Date: Thu, 22 Jan 2009 09:48:41 -0800 (PST) From: Beautiful Creamer Subject: "Try Boys" (adult-youth) Try Boys By Beautiful Creamer One -- Rethinking the basics Rob Philbutz was having a typically rotten Saturday morning. Though with all his genetic gifts, he should have been having 365 good days each year. 366 in a leap year. Rob was in the full flower of his virility. Thirty-five years old. Head-turningly handsome. Fit and buff. A large, fat, highly rechargeable cock with huge balls that produced oceans of thick man's cream. But sexually and romantically frustrated. [Sigh] He had "known" several women since achieving puberty. But, though he had deposited hundreds of creamy loads within a great number of stunningly beautiful women, he found them to be uniformly self-centered, bossy, manipulative, pussy-stingy (when it suited their purposes), controlling and generally emasculating. A sad realization for our hero. Still, he never considered men as an alternative. Rob never felt "those urges." And saw no signs that he would. So there he was that Saturday. Alone. Reading the sports section. Trying to avoid the dumb "sexual performance" ads that, these days, seemed to be next to the football accounts. Pictures of incredibly alluring women, suggesting that only a man who used the advertised product could ever "fully satisfy" her or himself. Baloney. Rob was almost ready to abandon the newspaper, flip on the television and see what Scooby-Doo was doing at the old Spunkspill Manor. But then he saw it. Another sports section ad. Similar to the other, sexy ads. Yet markedly different. It was a picture of two boys, photographed from mid-chest, just above the nipples up. The boys were achingly beautiful. Even a committed-though-frustrated heterosexual like Rob could see that. He could also see that the boys were shirtless. Exposing their creamy shoulders. Rob knew he should ignore the ad. It was some sicko's idea of a joke. Especially the ad copy. "Tired of the nagging, manipulation and emasculation?" it asked. "Try boys." Huh? Try boys????? That was nuts. Who did that nutcase who placed the advertisement think he was? Those boys looked like they were eleven years old. Twelve at most. Wasn't it illegal to even show them like that? And the looks they were giving the camera. They looked so...needy. Needy for a man. A man like Rob. Rob groaned. With unexpected lust. And disgust at himself for even thinking what he was beginning to think. Being in bed with one of those boys. Naked. Being in bed with both of those boys. Naked. The boys looked as if they wanted that. To be in bed, naked, with a man. They looked as if they wanted that a lot. Oh. Poor Rob's cock was iron-hard. But that was wrong. So wrong. Wasn't it? Exerting the full force of his will, Rob closed the newspaper, rolled it into a ball, and buried it in the trash bin. Phew. That was close. Rob went to his couch and sought the familiar comfort of Scooby-Doo. Pushed all that "Try boys" stuff from his mind. Mostly. For about 15 minutes. At which point he frantically dug the newspaper out of the trash and found the "Try boys" ad again. Oh. Those boys were such angels. What would it be like to make love to them? How would he even go about that? Whatever he did, Rob was sure that the boys would be sexually enthusiastic. And grateful. Plus Rob would know whether his efforts had produced an orgasm in his love partner. All of which would be distinct advantages over the women he had dated. Try boys, eh? There was a web site. No phone number. Dare he visit the site? Would a battalion of vice cops break down his door five minutes after he logged on? Rob thought about it. Realized that with the current state that his life was in, he had little to lose. Cranked up his computer and typed in the "try boys" site. Wow. Boys. Pretty boys. Gorgeous boys. Photos of dozens of them. All fully clothed, except for the boys wearing modest bathing suits. Candid shots of boys -- young, beautiful boys -- being boys. No men. No words. At least on the home page, except, "Try boys." Inexplicably, the "innocent" pictures had poor Rob's cock nearly bursting. His upper lip was perspiring. Dare he double-click on the "next" button at the end of the page? He dared. Oh. Men were on the second page. Good-looking, 30-something and 40-something men. Walking with boys. Talking with boys. The looks they were giving each other! Admiring looks. Loving looks. Poor Rob. It was too much for his balls. They exploded and his spewing cock drenched his pajama bottoms with thick, hot man's cream. Rob was alone, but that didn't stop him from being humiliated. He had just blown his testicles out looking at pictures of fully-clothed, twelve-year-old boys. The horror! That was it. No more of this nonsense. He was going to shower off the cum, get dressed, call a woman, take her to lunch, then fuck her. Prove his heterosexuality once and for all. Settle things. Right after he looked at the next page of the "Try Boys" website. Rob actually trembled with anticipation as he watched a collage of pictures load onto his browser. What would he see? More men and boys. Together. Everyone still fully clothed. But this was different. The men were kissing the boys. Kissing! And even though they were all fully dressed, every man or boy in the pics was [gasp] sporting a stiffie. Tenting his pants. It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen in his life. Beautiful boys submitting to the adoring kisses of sexually aroused, rampant, snorting men! Rob cried out and, for the second time in 15 minutes, shot a devastating load of creamy sperm into his already-drenched pajama pants. How mortifying! How totally, achingly erotic! When Rob's eyes managed to uncross, he took stock of his situation. He had just had two debilitating orgasms from looking at pictures of pretty boys being seduced by men. Which meant he was gay. At a minimum. And a pervert. For certain. How did he feel about that? Uncomfortable. Disgusted at himself. Horribly excited about the sexual prospects for his future. Especially the prospect of what he was sure would be on the next page of the "Try boys" website. Naked boys. Sucking the cocks of naked men. Maybe even naked men fucking naked boys. He was sure of it. And he was very wrong. The next page, which was unfortunately the last page, had no pictures at all. Just links. Which disappointed Rob tremendously. Though he was hopeful about the links. Though they held no pictures either. Just links to something called "gay adult-youth" stories. Filthy drivel written by a number of hack authors, such as some guy with the ridiculous name of "Beautiful Creamer." Rob knew it was time to put an end to all this and get back to his real life. Dull though it may be. Back to the routine. That would do it. Rob worked out seven days a week. Five days at a gym near his office. Weekends were for a three-mile run ending in the park a block from his house. A run would clear his head. Rob cleaned himself up a bit, put on his exercise gear and took off on a run. A run away from the notion of making love to a boy. Two -- Trying men Skippy Spermero was a very determined young boy. Despite four straight, unsuccessful Saturday seductions, Skippy was about to embark on a fifth attempt. Love makes people crazy. And 12-year-old Skippy was in love. With a man whose name he didn't even know. All he knew was that the man was gorgeous, he appeared in the neighborhood park sweaty and shirtless from a run at the same time every Saturday and he didn't even know that Skippy existed. Which would have discouraged most pretty boys. But not Skippy. In his daydreams, Skippy called the man, "Tummy Drencher," since every time Skippy thought about the man and touched himself, the boy drenched his tummy with hot sperm. The man was that hunky! Skippy didn't quite understand the art of flirting yet. And he certainly didn't understand men completely. Though he knew more than most. Skippy knew that some men liked women and only women. Some, he knew, liked other men. Some liked girls. Young girls. He also knew that a whole lot of men, maybe most men, liked boys. And that most boys liked men. Skippy liked men, though he hadn't been "with" one yet. He liked boys too. And boys liked him. Skippy had been sucking his friends' cocks for at least a couple of years. And they sucked his cock too. He had sucked other boys' cocks too. The kind who loved having their cocks sucked but wouldn't suck a cock in return. Mommy knew about Skippy's "activities" and didn't seem to mind. Though it wouldn't matter if she did. Skippy was who he was, Daddy knew too, but wouldn't admit anything about Skippy's "interests" to himself or Mommy. Skippy flirted with Daddy sometimes, but Daddy never seemed to react to it. Though Skippy saw Daddy's cock "fill up" and twitch whenever Skippy was wiggling his bottom around Daddy. Skippy would have loved it if Daddy would be his "first man." Though that didn't seem to be imminent. Skippy was pretty sure that sooner or later, "Skippy and Daddy" were inevitable. That's how sure Skippy was of his beauty and appeal. And he was probably right. But if he was so beautiful and appealing, how was "Tummy Drencher" able to ignore Skippy for so long? [Sigh] That Saturday morning, Skippy resolved to make an extra effort to flirt with Tummy Drencher. If the man had one or more palpitating testicles, Skippy would figure out a way to empty them for him. The boy checked himself out in the mirror. Tiny, tight short pants. A very brief tshirt that showed a hint of his boyish navel. Sandals that exposed his lovely feet. A baseball hat, glove and baseball. Pretty face, with beautiful eyes and impossibly long lashes. Rosebud, highly kissable mouth. Pronouncing himself scrumptious, the boy left for the park. Three -- Man tries Boy Skippy was disappointed when Tummy Drencher wasn't at the park at his usual time. The man was usually dead on schedule. Little did the boy know that the object of his desire was having an "unusual" morning that had set him back 45 minutes and two guilt-ridden orgasms. Rob made up a bit of that time by pushing himself extra hard on his run. Punishing himself for his gayness. So he was 40 minutes behind schedule and quite exhausted when he hauled himself to his usual park bench for his usual cool-down. On previous Saturdays, Rob had enjoyed the looks he got from the teenaged girls who always seemed to be around his bench. Pretty girls. Jailbait girls. Who flirted with him. And he noticed. But didn't flirt back. That morning, though the thought of a shirtless "Runner Man" (as the barely pubescent little femmes called him) was enough to make their little pussies soppy, the girls had not waited for Rob. Rob sat, his chest heaving. Sweat covering his muscled torso. He noticed vaguely that there were few girls around. He had bigger notions on his mind. Like this crazy "Try boys" thing. Crazy. Trying boys. Ha. But just then, Rob saw a baseball bounce past his bench. And a boy chasing the ball. Catching up with it. Bending over to pick it up. Plump, round, short-shorts-covered bottom pointing at Rob. And, despite the exact same situation occurring each of the past four Saturdays, that time, finally, Rob noticed. He straightened his back a bit and watched as the boy stood straight, then turned around. Looking at Rob. Smiling at Rob, when he saw that Rob had finally made eye contact with him. Involuntarily, Rob smiled back. Danger alarm bells clanged in Rob's brain. The boy was clearly underage. By maybe six years! And he was a boy! It was gay to smile at boys. And imagine that they're sucking your cock. Which was the image forming in Rob's troubled mind. The boy was intensely cute. And heart-breakingly beautiful. Where had he been all of Rob's life? Apparently right there, waiting for Rob's brain to reboot. Skippy was new at this, but he knew he had to take a bit of the initiative. "Hi," he said, to Tummy Drencher. Rob was startled. He felt a mating ritual beginning and he didn't want it to. Not with a 12-year-old, magnificently gorgeous boy. So he did the only thing possible. He said, "Hi. My name's Rob. What's yours?" So much for discretion. Skippy's little sissyboy heart fluttered. If he played his cards right, he figured this man's cock would be in his boyish bum within two hours. And Skippy was holding all the aces. "My name's Skippy. My friend Tommy went home and I don't have anyone to play catch with. Will you play with me?" The thought of "playing" with this angel's private parts had poor Rob gasping. But he took a deep breath and said, "Sure, Skippy. I don't have a glove, so take it easy on me, OK?" Skippy smiled with satisfaction and his three-inch penis gained its full height. He ran about ten yards away and then "burned" in a pitch that stung Rob's hands. Just because you're a sissyboy doesn't mean you can't throw a fastball. Rob chuckled at Skippy's aggressive throw, then threw a hard pitch back. Skippy caught it easily in his glove and burned another back. At that rate, Rob would be going to the emergency room with two broken hands. So he proposed an alternative. "Do you like ice cream, Skippy? Maybe I could buy you an ice cream and you won't kill me with the baseball." That was the Rubicon. A catch can be innocent, but a proposed trip for nourishment signals clear intent (See "North American Mating Rituals," 4th edition, by Creamer, pp 126-134). Skippy hadn't read that particular field manual, but he knew what the ice cream thing meant. He agreed eagerly, then said, "I have to tell my Mom that I won't be home for lunch. Do you have a cell phone?" Clearly Rob didn't, since he was dressed for a run. So Skippy proceeded with, "If you live nearby, I could call Mom from your place, Rob. You could clean up and change too, if you wanted." Game, set and match to Skippy. Rob agreed, dazzled by the possibilities of having the young beauty in his apartment. Just the two of them. And their stiff penises. Which neither of them was capable of hiding from the other's lustful gaze. Rob and Skippy walked the block to Rob's apartment, talking about Skippy's school and baseball team and friends. But Rob wasn't really listening. He was thinking, "Are people watching us? Calling the police? Writing down our descriptions?" And most importantly, "What will I do with this boy? What will he let me do?" and, "Can I really go through with this?" Poor Rob's heart rate was higher than it had been on his run when he opened his apartment door and ushered Skippy in. Skippy was trembling too. He hoped Rob wasn't an axe murderer or anything. Though it might be worth it if Rob was a really, really good fuck. Nervously, Rob said, "Get yourself a soda from the fridge, Skippy, while I shower. Make yourself comfortable." Skippy smiled at Rob so brilliantly that Rob almost creamed his pants. Then Rob scooted off to the shower to get the sweaty stink off. In preparation for creating a much better stink. Rob half-expected Skippy to join him in the shower and was mildly disappointed when he didn't. Though he was still pretty sure where his cock would be within the hour. At the moment, poor, agitated Rob's cock was iron-hard and flat against his hairy tummy -- the drooling knob was leaking into his belly button. Rob ached to cum, but knew he should wait and deposit that load somewhere more appropriate than the drain of his shower. Skippy was pretty sure about Rob's imminent penile relocation too, so he didn't want his first fuck to be a "join-me-in-the-shower-and-bend-over" cliché. Instead, he used the five minutes of alone time to snoop around Rob's apartment. No girlfriend pictures. No boyfriend pictures either. Just one of an older couple who must have been Rob's Mom and Dad. Hmmm. Rob's Daddy was kind of "mature hunky," Skippy thought. So, Skippy thought, Rob's looking for love. Thus far in all the wrong places. Then Skippy saw the crumpled-up newspaper ad for "Try Boys." Hmmmm. So that was why Rob finally decided to look at Skippy that particular day. The power of suggestive suggestion. Men are so shallow, Skippy thought. Then he added a "thank goodness" to all that. Skippy heard the shower turning off, so he sat on Rob's couch, removed his sandals, put his pretty feet onto Rob's coffee table, pointing his pink toes, and waited. Not for long. Rob dried himself off, brushed his hair, but didn't dry it, slid on a pair of Bermuda shorts, a tshirt and deck shoes and hustled into the living room to reassure himself that Skippy was still there. And wasn't accompanied by several members of the local police force -- whose guns were drawn at Rob. Just Skippy. Sitting there. On the couch. Looking sweet and innocent. And fucking gorgeous. With the prettiest, pinkest, bare toes and feet Rob had ever seen. Rob groaned softly and prayed Skippy hadn't heard him do that. Skippy had heard the groan and loved it. It was a huge ego burst to know that one's beauty drives men wild. And Rob was only a step or two from "wild." Rob opened his mouth and, after a brief interlude, words formed. "Say, uh, Skippy. About that ice cream. Maybe we could get that later." Skippy smiled. And moved over to make room for Rob on the couch. Rob gulped. Drew in a breath. Decide it was time to "man up." Take charge. Rob sat next to Skippy on the couch and looked at his beautiful face -- smiling at him so innocently. Could he really "violate" that perfect, little, innocent angel? Just try and stop him. Skippy knew that his time had come. He had had his playtime with other boys. Now was the time for him to be loved by a man. Rob's time had come too. He had tried women and been disappointed. Bitterly disappointed. Now it was time to try boys. Rob surrounded the boy with his arms and, for the first time in his life, kissed a boy. On the lips. Oh. That was nice. Skippy's kissback was just tentative enough to maintain the illusion of "innocent, but ready for change he could believe in." The boy's lips seemed to get hotter and more supple as Rob and Skippy adored each other's mouths. When tongues entered the picture, Skippy acted unschooled at first. Then showed himself to be a quick study. Sucking Rob's tongue as it licked Skippy's tonsils. Rob had never been so excited in his life. Or as terrified. He was positive that an anti-gay, anti-man-boy-love SWAT team was going to break down his door at any moment. The only breakdown, though, was in Rob's inhibitions. As the man and the boy heated each other up, Rob managed to remove both their shirts. Skippy's bare torso was delicious. Pink and delicate. With big nipples aching to be sucked by an adoring man. Rob's bare torso was delicious too. With rippling muscles that would overpower Skippy and make him submit to the complete satisfaction of every one of Rob's numerous, limitless, and totally disgusting needs. Yummo! Rob drew Skippy to his lap and worshiped the boy's nipples with his tongue and mouth. Groaning with pleasure as the boy squeaked and squealed out his love for what Rob was doing to him. Skippy ran his delicate hands all over Rob's bare shoulder flesh as the man sucked on Skippy's tender, right nipple. None of his boyish lovers had done anything like that, and it had poor Skippy in a major dither. The boy soon felt stirrings in his peeny. THOSE stirrings. He would be filling his shorts soon if Rob didn't stop licking his nipples that way. Rob needed to know that, so Skippy tried to squeak out a warning, but he just couldn't. Suddenly, Skippy's pants were down. Rob had eased him off his manly lap into a standing position, facing Rob, who then lowered Skippy's shorts and skimpy boypanties all the way down to his pretty ankles. Skippy's little cock was breathing free air. Then it wasn't. The randy man had been able to decipher all the warning squeaks and, taking the greatest risk of his life, erotic or otherwise, Rob consumed Skippy's aching, near-orgasmic cock with his mouth. Sucking it frantically and inexpertly until Skippy cried out and pumped six thick, creamy globs of boy's cream into his bold lover's hungry mouth. Rob was mortified and terrified at what he was doing. Swallowing a naked, 12-year-old boy's big, creamy load. Sucking the boy's tiny cock to a screaming orgasm. It was immoral. It was illegal. Worst of all, it was gay! It was also the most exciting moment of Rob's life. No woman had ever excited Rob half as much. No woman had ever appreciated Rob's voracious lovemaking half as much. No woman had ever been so eager to reciprocate as Skippy seemed to be. The boy was on his knees, naked as the day he was born, pulling at Rob's waistband in a frantic effort to get at the man's cock. Rob lifted his bottom off the couch and allowed his beautiful lover to "de-pants" him. Skippy actually gasped when he saw Rob's cock for the first time. No woman had ever done that either. Trying boys was working out for Rob so far. Trying men was good for Skippy too. The boy's mouth actually watered when he saw the stiff instrument that he was sure would soon rid him of his useless, anal virginity. It was a magnificent cock. Tall and proud, with a thick hood of skin and prominent, blue vein that went all the way to the tip. Massive, heavy testicles enclosed by a hairy bag that Skippy ached to kiss and bathe with his wet little tongue. Skippy just had to see the head, so he put his angelic, right hand on Rob's "boypleaser" and skinned the tip, exposing all of the fat, drooling, almost purple head. Skippy moaned at the sight. Rob heard that and almost spurted right then. Needless to say (but let's note it anyway), no woman would have moaned like that upon first viewing Rob's cockhead. Rob knew what was next. A beautiful boy, kneeling at his feet -- on his KNEES, for goodness sake -- was about to suck Rob's cock. Rob shuddered with lust. And prayed that his spermies would not "leave home" early. This was going to be something to savor. There were definitely some close calls. Like when Skippy gave Rob's hairy balls a good, eight-minute, tongue bath. That was sweet agony. How Rob ever managed to "hold things together" during that delicious torture should be analyzed and recorded for posterity. As should Rob's restraint when the young beauty kissed and licked Rob's pole as he skinned the cockhead. Making Rob actually begin to sweat, but only on his upper lip. Twelve minutes into the splendid anguish of Rob's first "boyjob," Skippy began to pleasure Rob's cockhead with his tongue and mouth. Licking all around the tingling flesh. Lapping up the sweet, drip juices as he stirred Rob's balls with a free hand. By the time Skippy had consumed the entire, pulsing knob with his wet, warm mouth, Rob was half-mad with lust. Skippy went for the knockout punch. Stepping up the intensity of his tongue on the "arrow-point" as he locked eyes with Rob and telepathed him a message of raw lust. That did it. Slam, bam, young man. Rob cried out -- manfully, let the record show -- and deluged the boy with more sperm and semen than a man should ever spurt. Rob drew on his emergency sperm reserves or something to engender seven thick, globs of "crème de sperm" soup. Skippy gagged. Having previously only sucked off boys, Skippy was unprepared for both the volume and thickness of the "sissyboy's big reward" that Rob generously donated to his "education fund." Still, Skippy soldiered on. Swallowing what he could and drooling the rest all over his neck and chest. All the way to his extra-large, erect nipples. Rob "suffered" through the best orgasm of his life. The one by which all others would be measured. The one he would think about in his cell at night if Skippy was a boy who "kissed and told." Somehow, Rob didn't think so. It wouldn't have mattered at that point anyway. Rob's decision-making functions had migrated from his big head to his little head. And the little head said, "Re-grow that woodie and fuck this little doll." Rob had the boy stand and drew him back to his lap. Kissing his cum-soaked face. And neck. And chest. And nipples. Oh. Rob picked Skippy up and effortlessly carried him to his bedroom. Placed Skippy on his back -- on the bed. Rob looked at the new love of his life and for a moment, rationality almost took over. "I don't even know this kid's last name. Or his real first name. And I'm about to stick my cock into his bottom. Am I crazy?" The answer was surely affirmative, Rational Rob thought. But then Lustmeister Rob took over all command functions and the games resumed. Rob thought for a moment about telling Skippy how beautiful he was, but decided that was a waste of time. He could tell him that as he fucked him. And make no mistake. He was going to fuck Skippy that day. Twice if hen had the time. The little cutie was ready for it all right. He was wriggling and holding his arms out for Rob to cover him with his manly body. Not yet. Rob reviewed what he knew about assfucking. Lubricate, dilate, penetrate. That was it. He had only gotten as far as dilate with the women he had known. Most didn't even want lubricate. Some silliness about not wanting a good assfucking. [Sigh] There was a certain logic to it, though. Women didn't have a prostate. Rob needed a bit of time before he got to all that. He was still limp-cocked. Wasn't 18 anymore. Skippy was stiff and drippy. There was something he had wanted to do since he first considered "trying" Skippy. So he did it. Rob sat on the bed, near Skippy's feet and began to massage the boy's tootsies. Skippy was a bit puzzled by that, but it felt nice. Not as nice as the fucking that he knew was imminent. But nice. Skippy was really surprised when Rob drew Skippy's right foot to his manly mouth, then began to kiss each toe, gently and lovingly. Ooohhh. That was nice. And got nicer when Rob sucked his little toe. Mmmmmm. So loving. So adoring. Rob proceeded to kiss, lick and suck every toe on Skippy's right foot. Taking his time. Then the left foot. Skippy tried to hold back his creamies. He really did. But it was just so sexy. A man "worshipping" him like that. So as Rob sucked the middle toe of Skippy's left foot, the boy squealed and spurted. Which pleased Rob very much. Though not as much as it pleased Skippy. It was a VERY nice orgasm. Inspired by some very dirty, very unconventional, very imaginative lovemaking. Skippy was very lucky that Rob was his first man. Rob was feeling pretty lucky too as he finished off Skippy's toes and flipped him onto his stomach. Spreading that cum all over his bedspread. Oh well. Rob pulled a chair over to the bed and sat. "Huh?" formed in Skippy's lust-filled brain. Followed by "Unnnhhhhhh!!!!" The man had spread Skippy's bottomcheeks apart with his thumbs and was licking Skippy's bottomhole!! Skippy screamed, which seemed to egg Rob into deeper excavation. It was all very logical. Rob had no suitable lube in the house, so he used his tongue. Well. Very well, if we were to ask Skippy. Rob had always loved eating pussy, but this was way better. Tastier. Dirtier. And more appreciated by the recipient. No one had ever even licked Skippy's "private place" before. Some of his "boyfriends" had entered it with their fingers, as boys do. But he had never dreamed of this -- nor imagined how good it would feel. It was incredible! The man was licking out the place where Skippy made poop! For Skippy's pleasure. That was an incredible, selfless act as far was Skippy was concerned. Another good reason to "give himself" to this loving man. Who was also enjoying himself. He loved all of Skippy's loving squeaks and squeals. It was great to be appreciated by one's sex partner, wasn't it? And the appreciation was flowing right to his Johnson, which had refound its manly vigor. After 12 delicious minutes of analingus, Rob moved to Phase Two -- Dilation. He joined Skippy on the bed, lying on his side next to the boy, enduring the storm of grateful, lustful kisses the boy hurled at him. All the while finding Skippy's sopping anus with the middle finger of his right hand, then entering him. Skippy grunted softly when Rob entered him, then resumed kissing his lover. Until Rob found the boy's prostate. And rubbed it for the first time in the boy's life. Skippy's beautiful eyes widened. Then filled with adoring tears as Rob's second finger joined the prostate party. Skippy saw the birth of the Universe as Rob massaged his prostate. Witnessed the Big Bang. Felt it. A new world for him. The one he wanted to live in forever. Skippy heaved and shuddered through his first prostate orgasm. Only able to produce three watery drops of boy's cream. But hurtled through the galaxy, through new stars and old. Knowing that the time to penetrate Skippy would never be better, Rob managed to get a limp Skippy onto all fours. He knelt behind Skippy, spat on his hand and lubricated his cock with his own saliva. Lined up his peehole with his sweet prize. Sighed. Pushed the head and two inches into the hottest, tightest place his cock had ever been. Listened to Skippy scream with the pains of sweet lust realized at last. Checked Skippy's vitals. Waited for the screams to evolve to whimpers. Then shoved in the rest. More screaming. Gee, Rob thought, I'm glad I'm giving, not taking. At one point in this, his first fucking, Skippy considered going straight. Burning his Streisand CDs. Trashing his Judy Garland posters. Joining the Republican Party. Ass fucking hurt!!! But then it didn't. And the man knew it. He picked up a rhythm. Each stroke rubbing against Skippy's tender prostate. Oh. That was good. Then it was great. He was being fucked. By his dream man. Whose life changed when he saw a newspaper ad to "try boys." Who said the newspaper business is dead? REMEMBER -- THIS IS JUST A STORY. DON'T "TRY" THIS AT HOME OR ANYWHERE ELSE. I welcome your comments at beautifulcreamer@yahoo.com. Other stories on nifty: "Sweetyboys" (gay young friends) August 31, 2007 "Boarding-School Bedmates" (bisexual adult-youth, though it's quite gay) May 5, 2008 "After-School Stroke Club" (gay high school) May 28, 2008 "Pretty" (gay adult-youth) May 21, 2008 "Hotel Management" (gay adult-youth) June 2, 2008 "Dating Pretty Boys" (gay young friends) July 2, 2008 "Sissyboy Stepson" (gay adult-youth) July 30, 2008 "The Little Prickpleaser" (gay-incest) August 1, 2008 "Sissyboy Showoff" (gay adult-youth) August 14, 2008 "Sissyboy Sleepover" (gay incest) August 26, 2008 "Cockteaser's Comeuppance" (gay adult-youth) September 5, 2008 "Schoolboy Pleasures" (gay adult-youth) October 23, 2008 "Home-Schooled Sissyboys" (gay incest) October 25, 2008 "Sissyboy Facts of Life" (gay incest) November 5, 2008 "Twelve" (gay incest) November 13, 2008 "Corporate Cockpleasers" (gay adult-youth) November 19, 2008 "Sissyboy-Daddy Reunion" (gay incest) November 24, 2008 "Sissyboy Shooting Lessons (gay adult youth) December 4, 2008 "Stepson Seduction" (gay incest) December 13, 2008 "The New Sissyboy" (gay incest) December 22, 2008 "Sissyboy Spunk Party" (gay incest) December 27, 2008