Date: Sat, 06 Aug 2022 00:07:08 +0000
From: Lizard69 <69lizard69@pm.me>
Subject: Unicorn short complete

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Unicorn
(Mm, reluctant)
Lizard69

	Even when you're mature enough to be relatively experienced there's
some awkwardness the first time with someone new.  If you're horny enough
it's not an issue.  For some it's even an added turn on, bringing a hint of
"first time" excitement to something that's already a part of your life.
It could be why so many are willing to do things with strangers.  I had
another reason for taking that path.  My family wouldn't completely disown
me and the kids at school wouldn't intentionally make my life hell.  Things
would still move further in that direction than I wanted to think about if
the whole world found out what I was doing.

	The guy I was with this time wasn't a friend or even a friend of a
friend.  Some of us were hanging out when one guy made a comment about his
mom's soon to be ex boyfriend.  It wasn't an introduction or endorsement.
It just raised the idea that he was enough of a horndog to be interested
and old enough he'd be in deep shit if anyone found out.  I knew his name
was Greg.  He knew I was Al and there was no way for me to deny I "went
looking for it."  Not after I had to track the guy down myself.  It's
almost a stereotype but we finally got together in the "man cave" he'd
built in his parents basement.

	"You can relax.  My folks are out of town.  Dad had to make a
business trip and mom went along to turn it into sort of a mini vacation."

	He dug a couple sodas out of the fridge and we settled in on the
couch.

	"Uh, Greg, this is kind of awkward but I'm curious.  How did you
get started, you know, with guys?"

	"Our church sponsored a youth group.  I guess the goal was to
distract us from trying to get each others pants off for a little longer.
It might have slowed one or two of us down a little.  Mostly it was like
trying to hold back the tide.  That and putting the youth group leader in
a, uh, target rich environment.  He managed to convince me being with
another guy wasn't, you know, real sex, not like fucking a girl.  How about
you?"

	"I've got a friend a couple years older.  We spend a lot of time
just cruising around out in the country.  A while back we were both broke
and weren't keeping a close enough eye on the gas gauge..."

*****

	Fortunately there was room to pull off the pavement where the car
coasted to a stop.  Ricky stared straight ahead for a minute while putting
the gearshift in park and turning off the ignition.

	"Don't say it.  Not right now.  Not one word."

	There was a shallow curve to the road where we got out of the car,
enough that you couldn't see a house in either direction.

	"I don't know what's ahead.  We passed a farm house about a half
mile back.  Take a chance or go for the sure thing?  You have money?"

	"If I did it would already be in the gas tank.  If he won't just
give us a couple gallons he should let us work for it.  There's no such
thing as a farm where all the work is done, not ever."

	It was early summer, still fairly cool and a half mile walk plus
the driveway would have been pleasant if we were doing it by choice.

	"Why the hell do farms have such long driveways anyhow?"

	"It depends on the size of the farm.  The township is broken into
mile square sections, 640 acres.  If you have a farm that big you put the
buildings in the middle so you don't have to go more than about half a mile
to the farthest field.  Average size farm around here is a quarter section.
That puts the house an eighth of a mile off the road."

 	"Always got an answer for everything, huh?  Ya know, sometimes that
gets really annoying."

	A machinery shed near the house had a tractor with the engine
cowling off and a guy working on it.  We were both young enough that anyone
out of high school was an, "old guy", but if I had to guess he hadn't seen
the high side of thirty.

	"Hey mister, uh, we have a little bit of a problem."

	"Really?  Just a little bit?  I'm fuckin' jealous!  My wife started
a fight last week then grabbed the kids and ran off to her mother.  My
hired man was so sick this morning I sent him home half way through milking
because I couldn't handle doing his job and paying him for it too.  The
only tractor I have small enough to fit through the door to my free stalls
blew a head gasket.  I've got enough work stacked up to keep six of me busy
for a month and two weeks to get it done.  Kid, right now I'd give my left
nut to have nothing worse than a little problem!  Let's hear it."

	"We ran out of gas a half mile up the road."

	"Uh-huh, and I suppose if you turned out your pockets you haven't
got a dollar between you."

	"We can work for it.  If you're so far behind...?"

	"Well, if you hadn't made the offer I'd have told you to go to
hell.  I won't get caught up by taking time to teach you the job.  The last
guy to get a can of gas cut the lock off my tank while I was out in the
field.  The one before that had a few bucks.  Neither one brought back my
can and I'm tired of giving them away.  One of you can damn well stay here
until his buddy brings the can back."

	Ricky looked like he might have been happier with me carrying a
five gallon can up the road.  He knew damn well I could drive but I was
still more than two years short of a license.  I watched him as far as the
end of the driveway then got interested in what the farmer was doing to his
tractor.  I should have stood off to the side and tried to become part of
the scenery instead of asking enough questions to be annoying.

	Finally he put down his wrench, and wiping his hands on a grease
rag, turned to face me.

	"Were you serious about working for the gas?"

	"Yeah."

	"Then blow me."

	"WHAT?!"

	"You heard me.  Get down on your knees, pull out my dick, and eat
it 'til it comes."

	"Wha...  You're crazy!"

	"No, just horny.  I told you my wife took off a week ago.  She
hasn't exactly been affectionate for over a month.  Part of being married
is getting used to having it fairly regular.  In a few more weeks the south
end of a heifer is going to get interesting.  I'm already at the point
where a mouth is a mouth."

	"I couldn't...  I never...  NO!  No way!"

	"Suit yourself.  I can be on the phone to the Sheriff in two
minutes and he can have a car here in ten or fifteen more.  Think he'll
waste much time on what you have to say when I tell him I caught a couple
of the kids who've been stealin' my gas?  Especially if your buddy drives
in with my gas can just about then?"

	For a long minute we stood there staring at each other.

	"Time's wastin'.  Your buddy is a little on the tubby side but he
can still lug a gas can half a mile in twenty minutes.  Give him another
five, ten at the outside, to dump it in the car and drive back here.
Unless maybe you want him to watch the big finish?  When ya got a frog to
swallow it don't help to spend too much time looking at it."

*****

	"Uh...  You're saying he... raped you?"

	"Yes... no... hell, I don't know.  I mean, technically I'm too
young to make that choice so he'd be in deep shit no matter how much I
wanted it.  He didn't actually force me.  Threatening to call a cop wasn't
nice but if he was really trying to make me do it calling a cop wasn't much
of a threat.  Like saying, if you don't blow me I'll call somebody who will
arrest me for asking, ya know?"

	"Yeah, but it's still pretty messed up."

	"Uh-huh, but...  you remember what middle school was like?  Girls
who are old enough to start getting horny but too young to really know what
they want?"

	"I wish I could tell you they grow out of that."

	"So, she gets a boyfriend.  He's more interested in getting his
dick wet than being social but they're mostly on the same page.  He can't
just walk up and say let's fuck.  I mean he could, but if she said yes he'd
be like what the hell do I do now?"

	"And as soon as he started bragging to his buddies her reputation
would turn to shit."

	"So she goes from no, to maybe a little, to some pretty serious
fooling around but keeps saying no to going all the way until he gets fed
up and threatens to dump her if he isn't getting any."

	"I guess that's pretty much the way it was and probably always will
be."

	"So, she can pretend he's twisting her arm, but they both know
she'd be disappointed if he didn't do the, `spread for me or I walk',
thing.  The farmer was sort of like that.  He had to lean on me a little
harder.  We didn't have any history or a whole lot of time.  It
was... compressed, skip the hearts and flowers, cut straight to the chase."

	"It's still a pretty crappy way to treat a kid, just hitting you
with it out of nowhere."

	"That's the other thing.  I met Ricky on my first day of middle
school.  My folks let me transfer early from parochial school because me
and the nuns were getting too good at making each other unhappy.  A handful
of my classmates would follow me over in a couple of years but for now I
was dumped into a group that had history going back to preschool.  I was
standing there feeling like a chicken in a flock of turkeys, waiting for
the doors to open when he walked up and started making friendly noises.  By
the time I figured out that the main reason a kid two years older wanted to
be friends was because the kids his own age had enough of his shit, I was
the choirboy hanging out with the creep.  Nobody else wanted anything to do
with either of us so we kind of got stuck with each other."

	"You have no idea how glad I am that I finally aged out of that
shit."

	"It got worse.  By the time I met that farmer it was a year later.
I was still in middle school but Ricky was doing his first year of high
school and had a car.  I was so happy to have a friend to hang with who had
transportation it didn't matter to me that I was a social zero with the
kids my own age.  I didn't give a lot of weight to the rumors going around.
Things about me and Ricky spending so much time alone together and that old
line about nobody riding for free.  I was enough of an outcast that no girl
wanted to be anywhere near me, and then getting strange looks because
neither Ricky nor I had a girlfriend.  I must have been stupid innocent.
Cocksucker wasn't a description, like bus driver or quarterback, just a
general purpose insult.  Until the first time I did it."

	"Oh...  Wow..."

	"All of a sudden a small mountain of half heard whispers and snarky
comments took on a whole new meaning.  Ricky is an asshole.  He's an only
child whose one real talent is to be irritating enough to get his way
without pushing it so far you slap the stupid prick.  He's also the only
guy on earth who might be even hornier than I am.  I'm dead certain that if
he ever got the idea that I might let him do something, he'd keep coming
back to it until I caved in and gave it a try."

	"Uh-huh.  You know that not all fairytales begin with once upon a
time?  Some of them start out, just this once."

	"That would be Ricky.  When it hit me, I wanted to run around
telling everybody at school it wasn't like that.  The thing is, I couldn't
think of anything that would do a better job of convincing everybody it was
*exactly* like that.  Want to hear something creepy and perverted?"

	"Always."

	"After a week or so of comments that used to roll off me like water
off a duck, I noticed something else.  What was creeping me out was the
idea of them thinking I was doing it with *Ricky*.  If any of them knew
about me sucking off that farmer I'd be more worried that they might think
Ricky put me up to it."

	"This is starting to get more interesting.  Like, I'm not Ricky.
Is that enough?"

	"It's a good beginning."

	Greg was sitting next to me on the couch.  He slipped his arm
around my shoulders and started playing with the top button on my shirt.
He thought it was kind of cute, the way I sat there pretending that nothing
was going on.

	"When will your folks get home?"

	"Tuesday."

	"Don't give me a hard time about not knowing what to do.  I'm still
kind of new at this.  If you just want to do something quick that's ok,
but..."

	"But...?"

	"I kinda wondered what it would be like to hang around long enough
to do, like, everything."

	"What do you call everything?"

	"Anything you want to do, anything I can do to make it more fun for
you.  Then hang around long enough to do whatever it takes to get you horny
again for a second time, maybe more.  Let you really do it, fuck me any way
you want until you can't get it up again, then stay the night in case you
want me to knock down your morning wood."

	"Uh...  Yeah... That, that sounds good.  Won't your folks get
worried?"

	"Let me use your phone.  Ricky isn't a completely worthless
asshole.  He will still cover for me without asking a bunch of questions."

	Greg did sort of a double take when I came back.  I still had my
shirt on... just my shirt, well socks too but they really don't count.  I
looked down where his eyes were focused, where my hardon parted the bottom
of my shirt tail.

	"It just seemed easier while I was up.  Uh, don't get mad.  I had
to give Ricky your phone number.  If somebody calls him looking for me
he'll tell them I'm in the bathroom and pass the word for me to call them
back."

	"Ok, uh, I guess you're not gonna pitch a fit if I get you to sit
back down and start to unbutton your shirt."

	"Do you want me to?  Pitch a fit that is?  This is still kind of
new for me, a little bit scary.  It wouldn't be hard to pretend I'm not
really ready for this.  Why don't you start popping buttons and we'll see
how it goes."

	It went just fine until he started to push my open shirt back off
my shoulders.

	"Hold up a minute.  I don't have much experience but there's
something I kind of like.  If you want me bare all over we can do that but
it's fun to fool around in just an open shirt.  Like, I'm undressed enough
to do whatever.  We're already having sex.  But the way your hands feel,
inside, outside, bunching up the fabric, moving it around, it's like I'm
letting you undress me.  Only it isn't just, get it done and get down to
it.  It goes on and on, like you're still getting me naked on top of
whatever else we're doing."

	"Don't take this the wrong way.  For somebody who doesn't have
experience and doesn't know what to do you seem to have a real talent for
turning up the heat.  Just how many guys have you been with?"

	"A couple more like that farmer, where I sort of walked into it
without thinking.  Mike says it's because I'm a Catholic school kid."

	"Mike?"

	"I'm kind of embarrassed about it.  Don't give me a hard time, ok?
After the farmer there were a couple other guys.  It wasn't rape, not like
getting dragged into an alley anyway.  Afterwards I was more worried
somebody might find out than upset about what happened.  Then one day Ricky
had me along when he needed to stop at a friends place.  Before we got
there he warned me that Mike was a party animal who didn't care that much
where he was sticking it.  He didn't want me doing the shocked Sunday
school kid thing if Mike made some comment that wasn't, like, `man on wife
get it over with quick'.  It pissed me off a little.  Parochial school kids
usually go a little wild when they escape into the real world.  I was more
likely to give him a pass for something I should get upset about that try
to hand him crap for no reason."

	"Uh-huh, the freakiest girl I met in college wanted to be a nun
when she was twelve."

	"So, Mike had loaned him some money and Ricky was late paying it
back.  I was too busy checking out the house to pay much attention."

	"The house?"

	"Mike is a professional photographer who uses his home as a studio.
Every inside wall looks like it came from a completely different house, as
if the place was assembled out of panels from a dozen different buildings.
Anyway, I started paying attention again about the time Ricky told him that
the bottom line was he didn't have the money and unless Mike was willing to
take it out in trade he needed more time.  Mike told Ricky he wasn't worth
it but his friend might be interesting."

	"Oh shit.  This is where it gets embarrassing?"

	"Yeah, but not the way you think.  At the time I was so clueless it
almost seems intentional.  I heard, `in trade', and was thinking labor like
cleaning out the garage or maybe Ricky giving Mike something he owned.  At
the first hint of getting me involved I slammed the door on that *hard*
making it crystal clear that I didn't write checks on Ricky's account and
wasn't responsible for his IOU's.  It's a damn good thing Ricky had dropped
me at home and was out of my reach when it dawned on me that if a girl owed
me money, `take it in trade', might have a whole different meaning.  Don't
even get me started on `owned'.  That should have been the end of it but
Mike's house is on the way to a place I sometimes go after school.  A
couple weeks later I saw him get home just when I was passing and instead
of leaving bad enough alone decided I had to let him know I wasn't really
that retarded."

	"Let me guess, farmer all over again?"

	"More like a whole different level.  First he wouldn't let me
leave.  Then he kind of backed off, but made it clear that if I wasn't
ready to play he'd tell Ricky I came back alone after I figured out what
they were talking about.  Mike knows Ricky as well as I do.  Sooner or
later he'd nag me into it.  Hell, I'd be lucky if Ricky didn't want to
watch.  I might have still told him to go to hell but to be honest, by that
point it was more a question of when and how, not if."

	"So you let him..."

	"... finish breaking me in.  He had me bare naked, down on my hands
and knees.  I was pushing my ass back onto his greasy hardon, when he made
some creepy comment about how much he liked breaking in Catholic boys.
Like, it's harder to get us to do stuff but when we give it up, we give it
*all* up.  I guess that's when I lost it.  Three other guys had already
been with me, one of them even made me cum, so I thought the virgin thing
was history.  Then I finally, completely, `gave it up', and made the jump
from coping with whatever some creep wanted to actual sexual submission."

	"You came out?"

	"Sort of, I accepted that men were going to fuck me, that I would
*let* them do it, that for some reason I don't completely understand I
*want* them to do it.  What Mike does to me is still kind of awkward and
embarrassing.  It's wrong but it isn't evil, not like burning down
somebodies house or mugging somebodies grandfather.  It's like barking cat
wrong, inside out sandwich wrong, a boy swimming in a girls suit wrong."

	"I think the technical term is perverse."

	"Perverted?  No shit!  I want to do it with a girl.  What Mike does
with me is about as far from that as anybody can get but physically it's
still sex.  Every time it gets more coordinated, like practicing a sport or
some weird martial art.  The change from not fighting to queer sex with him
was huge.  Like all of a sudden my body started learning how to move and
was trying to make up for lost time.  Uh, you're not gonna believe this.
If I wasn't looking right at my cock when I came I'm not sure I'd believe
it myself.  His hands were all over me while he did it but right when I let
loose it was waving around in open air, nothing even touching it.  I was
past the peak and coming back down to reality when I felt Mike let go
inside me."

	"Oh..."

	"Mike got up and while I was catching my breath I heard a series of
whir-clicks.  I looked back over my shoulder to see a professional
photographer holding a camera with a motor drive."

	"Oh shit."

	"I don't know if I actually said that but the thought did cross my
mind.  I cleaned up, got dressed, and listened while he gave me the
preschool version of what professional photography was all about.  He told
me to take at least a week to think it over, then come back and either pick
up the photos or sign a model release."

	"You went back?"

	"Not for the photos.  Well for them too but it didn't take a week
for me to know I was going to be with him again.  No way was I going to
sign a release.  That was crazy.  I'm underage.  A release wouldn't mean
anything.  It would be like proof he's making child porn.  Then I saw the
pictures."

	"That bad?"

	"That good.  He did a half dozen shots in the time it would take
for a decent sneeze.  You've seen family albums?  Crappy color, mug shot
poses, weird angles and not really in focus?  These were matte finish,
black and white, eight by ten shot from a rear quarter at maybe half his
normal eye level.  I never imagined I could look so totally fucked.  Then I
saw the last shot.  I was there when he did it.  I know damn well that when
I looked back over my shoulder the question in my head was, `What now?'.  I
don't know if it's professional photography or black magic but the
expression he captured in that final pic was saying, `Who's next?', as loud
and clear as if the picture could talk."

	"What did you do?"

	"What could I do?  I signed the release... then took off my
clothes.  Most people would think he's a total monster.  If he is, I'm
worse.  I get so horny while he's taking pictures of me the sound of the
camera all by itself is enough to get me hard.  I don't know where they've
been sold or who has seen them.  They could be in the collection of some
millionaire in a foreign country or a magazine that belongs to a homeless
guy jacking off under a bridge downtown."

	"Doesn't that bother you?"

	"Does it bother you that I have no idea how many perverts have seen
me naked?  Sucking cock?  Taking some old guy's hot, hard, dick balls deep
in my ass?"

	"Uh..."

	"Didn't think so.  I'm not quite horny enough to start begging you
to fuck me, not yet, but it wouldn't hurt if you got naked.  You know, just
in case it happens quicker than we expect."

	When Greg got back down on the couch I started lightly running a
finger tip up and down the underside of his cock.

	"It looks like you really get into hearing about me with other
guys.  Want more?"

	"Hell yeah! If you don't mind talking about it."

	"You're kidding, right?  Sex is the biggest thing that happened to
me so far and will probably be in the top three for the rest of my life.
Not being able to tell anyone is killing me."

	"Because you're queer?"

	"Because I'm not.  Look, the first couple of guys were like, horny
bad luck, the sort of thing that could happen to anybody.  They would have
left me alone if I pushed back hard enough but it was easier to just get it
done and have them go away.  It will be pure coincidence if I ever see
either of them again.  The third guy was my first anal, he raped me, but
the situation was so messed up there's no way in hell I can report it.  I
don't hate him.  I could even go back for another round but he's such a
total creep I don't want to imagine how desperate I'd have to be.  There
was one more guy I agreed to fuck without really understanding what I was
getting into.  He was the first one to make me cum while he did it.  Now
there's Mike.  I listen to guys bragging about how far they got with their
girlfriend and it's interesting but a little hard to understand how they
could be so excited about it.  From the way I react and not having anything
of my own to brag about most of them probably think I haven't even figured
out how to jerk off yet.  If they found out what I'm doing they wouldn't
want to get anywhere near me."

	"They wouldn't want anybody to know about it.  I'm sure there's at
least a couple who'd drag you into a mop closet it they thought they could
get away with it."

	Greg must have decided my fingertip stroke job was interesting
enough to return the favor.

	"Careful!  It's ok.  You can touch me anywhere but I'm really close
and don't want to cum too soon."

	"There's no such thing as too soon.  When it's time, it's time."

	"You should talk to Mike.  Maybe that really isn't fair.  I'm
pretty sure he feels the same way you do if it's just him fucking me.  When
he's got a camera it's like the photos aren't hot enough if I don't have
blue balls before he's done.  He always wants to get at least one shot
where I'm leaking pre-cum and so hard it's starting to hurt."

	"He takes a lot of pictures?  Like, how many different poses are
there?  After you show everybody everything what's left?"

	"I thought so too.  He turns it into sort of a role play thing.  We
start with me in some normal, everyday, nice kid next door setting.  Then
do a series of shots, like storyboards for a movie only photos instead of
drawings.  Sometimes it's me solo.  More often it's some old guy perving on
me."

	"Old guy?"

	"Just Mike so far but he's talking about shooting me with somebody
else.  Sometimes he combines the two, using the photos and a phony chat log
to fake screen caps of me putting on a show for some pervert.  Once he was
part of the show.  You know, like the pervert had me find some local guy to
do the stuff I would be doing with him if he could be there."

	"You better hold up a minute or I'm going to be the one that cums
too soon.  How old are you anyway?"

	"Almost fifteen, yeah, tell me about how I don't look it.  I'm
skinny enough I could hide in the crowd at a concentration camp.  I had a
couple hairs on my chest and a little fluff around my dick before Mike made
me wax.  He showed me one magazine where they made up a storyline to go
with the photos about some skank renting out her twelve year old son to pay
for her drug habit... and how if mom didn't need the money I would be doing
it for free."

	"You are about to get sooo fucked!"

	"Lay back and let me climb on top.  You have lube?  We can tongue
wrestle while you finger me and loosen me up."

	I wasn't as ready as I could have been when Greg's cock slid into
me.  It didn't really hurt, just felt kind of uncomfortable.  What mattered
most was that he popped his load deep inside me before his dick could rub
me raw, and my own cock was splattering him with boy batter while it was
still waving around in open air.

	"Mike calls that a ruined orgasm.  It isn't really ruined.  It felt
good, a whole lot better than not cumming.  But it's, like, unfinished.  I
don't get the post-nut feeling, sometimes I don't even go soft.  I'm
already thinking about doing it again.  If you told me to get dressed and
kicked me out right now I might start jacking off before I made it all the
way home."

	"So you're telling me you're just getting started?  Ok, I guess I
can deal with that."

(A long, long, way from)

The End