A Lesson to Remember
by Ashley Hardric ©2005

    This story is fiction.  That means it is not true. (Duh.) No boys were involved or harmed in the writing of this story and no trees were sacrificed.  The author does not condone sex with boys; he just writes fantasies about it.  Further, sex in reality requires caution and protection, but my characters won’t catch any bad bugs unless I write them in.  Be safe and legal in the real world, and enjoy the story only if you are of age and location to legally do so.

    **This story is the property of the author and may not be reproduced elsewhere (i.e. other than Nifty Archive)  without his permission.**


    I hugged his skinny body tightly, and stroked his smooth tummy and chest.  He hugged back, and laid his head against my shoulder.  A few minutes ago he had given me his very first blowjob, and he was tired.

    I took his little cock gently in my hand, admiring its slight upward curve as it stood nearly perpendicular to his naked body.  Barely ten minutes had passed since his last ejaculation and he was hard again already.  What he lacked in size, he made up for in stamina.

    Donny was a “late bloomer” physically; at eighteen he looked about five years younger.  Incredibly thin, he could have been a poster child for the Anti-anorexia Foundation.  His arms sported nearly no muscle, and his chest showed only ribs.  His skinny legs were thinner than many men’s arms.  No beard or moustache yet, just a little light brown hair on his lower legs, a few wisps under his arms, and a very modest bush of mostly straight pubic hair were all that had come in so far, and that just recently.  His penis seemed to be still growing  -- we hoped!--, but his balls had reached full size.  And he had just become one hell of a cocksucker.

    We had climbed to the peak of a local landmark, Nelson’s Pointe, and found a secluded half-cave near the very top.  The trail stopped quite a ways below, and our little love nest was totally hidden from any close view, although we could see across the valley forest for miles.

    Earlier, we’d been working on some of his stories -- he’d asked my help to get caught up in my fiction writing class before the mid-term.  We needed undisturbed time away from interruptions, so we’d met this warm Sunday afternoon in the park picnic area at the base of the Pointe.  As we worked on his writing, the line between fantasy and reality blurred, and he revealed a deep longing for the love of a father he’d never had.  He also seemed to have some major sexual issues that he’d not dealt with.

    He told me how his late physical development had been a source of constant pain for him during junior high and high school.  As the other boys gained pubic hair and growth spurts and ejaculations, Donny had been left behind, a teenager trapped in a little boy’s body.  Puberty had not arrived until he was 16, despite his near desperate attempts to coax some cum out of his diminutive dick.  His doctor assured him all was well, that he was simply on the extreme end of the “normal” range, but that hadn’t done anything to ease things for him.  And, as if Nature hadn’t done enough to him, he’d also temporarily developed small breasts after puberty did finally start when he was a Junior..  He told me that in the locker room he had been the target for every kind of rude and raunchy remark only high school boys can dream up.  “Guys would come up and squeeze my tits and call me names,” he told me.  “Sometimes they’d pick me up, one on each side, and another boy behind me would reach thru my legs and pull my penis back and squeeze my balls, and they’d hold me up and say ‘Look at our little pinup.  Isn’t she pretty?  Two dollars a fuck; five dollars for head.’   One time someone had a digital camera and they took turns taking pictures nude with me, making me hold their hard dicks by twisting one arm behind my back and squeezing the hell out of my balls.  They showed the pictures all over school.  It was horrible.” 

    Sometimes they kept him out of the locker room until after the bell, saying “You have to have a penis to come in this room, little girl!” and stuff like that.  Once after gym class, some of the football jocks had picked him up naked and wet from the shower and carried him down the hall to the girl’s locker room and thrown him inside the door.   He’d had to run back down the hall stark naked, and he hadn’t quite made it inside as the bell rang and the hall filled with kids.

    “That wasn’t the worst, though,” he told me, his eyes tearing a little at the memory, and his voice breaking.  “You promise you won’t tell anyone?”

    “Of course I won’t.  You know you can trust me,” I answered,  putting my arm around his shoulder and giving him a reassuring hug.

    “Well, the worst time was in the shower after school.  I’d stayed after school for open-gym -- they had open gym every Wednesday and I liked to play volleyball -- and I was getting a shower afterwards.”  He gazed into the distance, reliving the memory, and then continued in a barely audible voice.  “The same football jocks who threw me out of the locker room nude come in to the shower.  Of course they start picking on me.  I try to ignore them, but they’re too big and they‘re getting right in my face.  A couple of them have hard-ons, and they’re huge.  I try to leave but they won’t let me past!  Then one of them grabs me from behind by both arms and pushes me against the wall.  He pushes his hard dick against my ass a few times, and then drags me out to one of those low benches in the drying-off area.  He’s so strong I can’t do anything to resist -- you think I’m skinny now, you should have seen me when I was 16.  I looked like most boys did at 11.  So anyway, this guy drags me over to the bench and pushes me down over it, face down.  My head is hanging over the bench, my hips are on top of it, and my feet are on the floor.  One of the other jocks pins my arms to the floor by kneeling on them and squeezing my head between his legs --  I can’t go anywhere, and I’m so scared about what they’re going to do to me.  Then one of them says ‘Who’s got the faggot lube?’ And then someone is rubbing my asshole, which feels really strange.  And then one of them gets down on top of me and pushes his dick into my ass.  It really hurts, and I’m crying and trying to get up but the jock keeps me pinned and I can’t move and the guy in my butt is fucking me and fucking me and then I feel him pulse a few times and then he pulls out.”  He was sobbing now, as he continued his horror story.

    “  ‘My turn,’ says one of the others.  Before he gets on me, though, he kneels down next to my face, grabs me by my hair, and shows me his massive cock.  It looks about a foot long and three inches thick.  ‘Look at this beauty, little girl,’ he says.  ‘All nine inches are here for you.  Kiss it for good luck.’  And he shoves it into my lips, and then gets up and mounts me from the back, and rams it in me with no warning at all.   I feel him inside me so far I’m sure his cum is gonna shoot out my mouth.  When he’s done the third guy goes.  The pain is just constant now, and I don’t care much what he does to me.  And then the last guy -- the one who grabbed me in the first place -- gets on me and starts to fuck me.  But this guy goes slow and easy, and after he’s in he reaches around under me and grabs my dick, which to my surprise is hard as a rock now.  So he’s squeezing my dick and fucking my butt and it still hurts but it feels good, all at the same time.  And then I have an orgasm -- still dry, but it feels great -- and he comes in my butt, and then pulls out.  So they leave me there and tell me they’re gonna do the same thing to me anytime they find me in the locker room.”

    “That was a horrible experience,” I told him softly.  “I’m glad you shared that with me.  Is there any more?”

    “Well,” he said, his sobs subsiding, “then I went back into the shower to clean up.  There was so much cum in me I had to let it drain out for about five minutes.  And I was bleeding some, too.  But the thing was, even though it hurt so much it felt good at the same time.”  He was silent for awhile, and then in a small voice said, “Maybe I really am a girl.  Maybe I’m one of those people trapped in the wrong sex body.  Maybe that’s why my body is so screwed up.”

    I hugged him again.  “Just because you have a body clock that’s a bit slow and you are confused about sex doesn’t mean you’re not a real boy,” I told him.  “Some boys like boys better than girls, but they’re still boys.  As far as I can tell, you’re 100% male.”   I pulled him to his feet.  “Come on, let’s get a little bit of exercise.  It will stimulate the creative juices.  Let’s climb to the top of the Pointe.”

    So we’d walked up the trail, and then on up to the rocky summit, where he found our cave.
    “Look at this, Mr. H!  It’s really cool!”

    I climbed after him, clambering over some huge boulders until I found where he was.  He’d discovered a lovely little natural shelter, enclosed on three sides and recessed into the rock, but open to the view out over the valley.  “This,” I said, “is awesome -- in the proper sense of the word.”  We both sat down and leaned against the smooth stone.  I put my arm around him, and he immediately snuggled into me as if he’d been doing it all his life, laying his near arm in my lap.  I pulled him closer and brought my other hand to rest on his middle.  We sat in comfortable silence.

    “I’ve been thinking about what you said about liking boys,” he said after a couple of minutes.  “I guess I do like boys better than girls.  I’ve never had a real date with a girl.  I always figured I was too skinny and ugly and little for any girl to go out with me.  And to tell you the truth, I was never much interested in them.  I get turned on more by cute guys than by any girl.”

    “Do you think maybe you’re gay?” I asked him.

    “I’ve been afraid to really think anything like that,” he said.  “It’s like, if I actually admit that maybe I am, then I’ll be all wierd or queer or something.  I don’t even know what I mean.”

    “Do you like the idea of having sex with boys?”

    “Well, that’s what I think about when I jerk off, mostly.  I really get turned on by the idea of having my cock sucked.  And I think I would like to have a guy’s dick in my mouth, too.”

    “How do you feel when I do this?” I asked him, moving my hand around on his chest and down to his stomach and on to his crotch, which was beginning to bulge a bit.

    “Fantastic,” he said.  “Do it some more.”

    I continued the caress, dropping my hand between his bare legs and gently stroking the soft inner thighs.  He opened his legs to give me more room, and I snaked my hand into the leg openings of his shorts to find his balls.  He groaned with pleasure, and started to breathe hard.  I untied the drawstring of his gym shorts and pulled them down and off, Donny arching up to assist me.  I left his Jockey shorts on for the time being.  His prick was straining against the cotton bikini, and I gave it a quick squeeze before moving back up under his tee shirt across his smooth tummy to his chest.  Without a word, I pulled the tee off, and went to work on his nipples, kissing and licking and teasing them to full erect state.  I worked my way down to his abdomen again, stroking the straining rod through the cotton, cupping and caressing the balls too.  Then I pulled the bikini briefs down and off, and he lay before me totally naked, his petite penis nearly vertical.  I went down to savor the sweet taste of adolescent boy, and he could hold back no longer.  No sooner had I sucked his little throbbing rod into my mouth, but he came, bucking up against my lips, shooting strong streams of cum from his ample balls into my mouth.  I held it in my mouth, and moved up to kiss him.  He opened his lips, and we shared the taste of his pleasure.  And then I gently urged him down to my own raging erection.

    He repeated everything for me that I had just done for him.  Starting with my own shorts, he unzipped me and took my adult hard-on out -- I seldom wore underwear if I could avoid it.  He held it for a moment, and then began stroking it, gently touching the head, moving down to the very bottom, caressing my balls.  Then he pulled the shorts off, and returned his hands all the way up my legs to my crotch, going over and over the inner thighs and driving me crazy with desire.  Then he continued upward under my shirt, which he pulled off, and attended to my nipples, my neck, my stomach, and back down to my prick.  He licked it up and down like a melting popsicle and then licked my balls with his delicate tongue.  He sucked them into his lips and gave them a wonderful mouth massage and then returned his attention to my stiff rod, working his way from the base back up to the top.  When I thought I could stand no more, he took my swollen head into his mouth and sucked and licked and sucked and licked.  I took hold of his head and held him steady as I began to fuck his face, finding a rhythm with him that was totally natural.   As my ecstacy mounted, we increased our speed until with a cry of joy I erupted into his mouth.  Probably the most intense orgasm of my life flooded into his mouth, more than he could swallow, three, four, five streams of thick creamy cum.  Some of it leaked out of his mouth and dribbled down his chin.

    I pulled him up to me and kissed him again.  Once again we shared the taste of our love-making.  I wiped the cum off his chin and fed it to him.  He eagerly licked it off my fingers, and then sucked on my fingers for a few moments more.

    “That was incredible,” he said.  “That was better than I ever imagined.  Both parts.  I can’t believe I’ve finally done all that.”

    I stroked him gently, my hand moving down again to his little penis.  It was hard again.
    “Doesn’t this thing ever get tired?” I asked him.

    “Occasionally,” he said.  “It’s kind of like the Eveready bunny.  It keeps going and going...”

    “Yeah, well, good things come in small packages,” I said.  “Pun intended.  As I said before, you’re 100% boy.  Forget that shit about being a girl in a boy’s body.  Sexual preference has nothing to do with gender.”  I gave his stiff prick another squeeze, and kissed him on the mouth again.  “Let’s leave some in there for you to jerk off with tonight.   We better get dressed and go back down.  You still have to finish your story for tomorrow.”

    “I feel like I can write anything now,” he said.  “I have never felt this good in my entire life.”

    “So you think you might like to do this again?” I asked.

    “Might like to?” he replied.  “If you don’t let me have another chance at it, I’m gonna die from ruptured balls!  We can do it again, can’t we?  Please??”

    “Of course we can.  Maybe not here, but we’ll find a place.  Where will you be this Summer?”

    “I guess I’ll take a class or two; I’ve got no reason to go back to my mom’s house.  She’s all wrapped up in her own social whirl and has no time for me.  So I guess I’ll stay in the dorm.”

    “Maybe we should think about alternate living arrangements,” I said.  “Like maybe you could live with me this Summer.  Think about it.”  And with that, I pulled on my shorts and shirt, slipped on my Tevas, and as soon as he had done the same, we headed down the mountain.

    Neither of our lives would ever be the same.

The End