Under 18: Ix-nay: go be elsewhere, please. This story is Copyright 2014 by Soaringtoad. No other reproduction or distribution than Nifty Archives is permitted, without the author's permission. Please donate to Nifty: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html


The Scent of Him

So I met him at the teen center. It was actually odd that he was even there. He didn't really fit in: a little too bad boy, a little too itching for action. Slim-hipped and physically quick. Ramones teeshirt and skinny jeans. Seemed... not dangerous -- worldly -- to me. Worldly. I was needy and hollow and soft. Craving a strong assertive teenboy. To be touched, to touch him, to crawl into him, bury myself in him, be taken, be blanketed in strong teenboy.

Despite his magnetism, I was afraid to reach out. But he stood a little too close, talking to me. Followed me into the back, where the bathrooms were. Pulled me to him. I like you, he breathed on me, pressed himself to me. Too close, a little scary. My heart raced, my nuts drew up, as the wave of arousal hit. Then not close enough, as I got so stiff, felt myself melt, needing, reaching out, hands on his belt, clinging, craving to have him, be had by him. Pulling together, my dick pressing against his warm thigh, the sweet shrill craving making me groan and tremble.

On bikes, I followed him home. Suspended weightless with desire. Floating in through the kitchen door, past the flickering TV den, the still, gray faces lit by the set. Up to his room. Messy, smell of piled clothes and teenboy. He pulls me to him, warm, grasping my butt, pressing, bigger than me, kissing, his bulge full, yielding, itchy-ecstatic where we mash together. Hand on my back, on the back of my neck, fingers on my head, in my hair. Smell of teen boy pits and metallic strength. Button popping: my jeans come open. His hand inside my pants, outside my briefs, on my bulge, cupping, pressing through the fabric, hand inside my shirt, fingers tender on my tits, deep strong kissing, pressing me back against the door, hand plunging in, sliding against my skin, sliding past my straining dick, to take my balls into his big soft hand.

I'm on his bed, on my back, my dick's in his mouth. He's kicking off his own jeans, straddling my face. I look up at his body. It's shockingly boyish, youthful, his fat cock shapely, tender, eager, virginal. Beautiful smooth boy body, at odds with that worldly pose. It's been all day since he bathed. His musk is heavy, magic, liquid in my nostrils, his penis fat, the lovely head taken between my lips, tender, boyish, slipping deeper to probe my mouth, my lips around the fat shaft. I worship the dick of him, lips savoring his soft penis skin, seeking the root, pressing against his body, his pubes. The scent of him, of his bush. A holy thing, my mind blank, prayerful. He sucks me, holds my sack, gently tugs at the skin at the back. It scrunches hard from the thrill. I worry they are too small, now. I feel passive, feminized. He runs his hand over them, gathering and containing my lust. I thrust to give them into his hand, moaning their surrender. He tugs the skin, pulling on my hole. It thrills and clenches, wanting more. He pries my buns apart, exposing me. Now I am fully opened before him. He sees my gay boy desire, my flagrant arousal, all the places that want him. He tugs gently, pulling on my hole. I whimper and wink, helplessly wanting this. He spits on it, touching, stroking, the invasive sensation overwhelming, paralyzing, melting me. Helpless, yielding.

I hear a bottle cap and Ploosh. His mouth on my dick, cool lube and a finger coming to rest in the center of my hole. Pressing in, pressing. Catching the center and circling, lubing, opening, making me want, making me desperate to open, hungry to be entered. I feel my self weaken and tremble for this. My heart pounds hugely, pounds in my face, my ass hungry, my balls drawn tight against my straining boner. Hole, inside, hungry for the prying fingers, hungry to be opened, entered. He softly lubes me as I surrender to him, as I moan to be taken. He flips around, kisses me with slobbery dick-taste lips, his tongue deep in my mouth. He rears back and rolls me over, grabs my hips and pulls me kneeling, pulls my hungry bottom up to contact his huge organ, first the hot length of him in my crack, the bigness of him. He lubes himself. I move my knees apart and he slides his slippery dick next to my sack, slides across the back of my needy bag, to fuck next to my bag on the other side, both sides slimy with lube. His dickhead comes to rest on my weak place, my hungry place, my trembly place. I needed a strong boy. I needed a big tender dick. Now I need him in me. He touches me huge, warm, slippery, impossibly large. I tremble and weaken, feeling him begin to open me, no will to stop him, my body opening in gladness to feel him touch just inside, touching my inside places, inciting me, my heart racing, the thrill making me soft, making me push back against him to get him inside. He begins to enter me, just a little. My bag shrinks and burns with the thrill. The drama of being entered takes me, conquering all resistance. I freeze, fascinated, as he enters me, huge, painful, desired, majestic. I yield to the timeless thrill of being penetrated, of being possessed by a huge hard phallus. Timeless giant tender invader, scary welcome, scary fulfilling, my soul trembles with the need, the thrill, the reality of having him, the promise of some nameless fulfillment. I barely hear myself crying out into the bunched up covers.

My head fills with light, with the huge fact of having him going into me deep. He possesses my body, tender hands on my hips, bottoms out in me, holds me against him. I adjust to the penis domination, giving my softness to him, accepting the huge phallus of him joyously into the depth of me, celebrating it. No longer forcing, I am a joy tube for him. He is sliding, desired, cherished, cradled, welcomed into my ass with joy. He strokes, deep and male, inexorable, dominant, slowly speeding, deepening, pressing, slapping me with his pubes, with his body, his big nuts bouncing softly against mine. Receptive: timeless male fucking me. The paradoxical softness, his huge hardness, his tender near-brutality, his thrusts faster, deeper, stopping to fully bury himself in me, pressing that extra tiny bit deeper for a moment, for all too brief a moment, for both of us to savor the reality of this. My ass grips, trying vainly to understand this marvel. He fucks me some more, bringing me closer, pauses as I clench with wonder to know this hugeness within me, this tender domination.

He lies sweaty on me, putting his full, hot weight on my back, reaches around to take my dripping boner in his gentle hand, thrusting deep as he jacks me sweet. I press back to take him deeper, his dick feeling sweeter and sweeter inside me. I want deeper. I clench to savor the huge maleness of him, the huge teen phallus thrusting past my clenching ring, taking me. I've tasted this thing, had it in my mouth, and now it's in me deep. Sweet. The joyful absoluteness, the carnal certainty of being truly fucked. It confirms something nameless and good. The joy of his domination rips away any pretense. I exult in being fucked, in the smell and the animal power of him. The smell of him fucking me. The sweetness of his hand grows, the sweetness in my ass turns huge, sharp, savage, rises up, a terrible flower of joy, tearing and scouring me mindless, too huge to contain. I clench, impaling my soul on the joy, holding it, holding it, loading with cream, until I can hold no more. Yielding, spurting, expelling my joy in giant gouts of cream, clenching helplessly around his final thrusts. He groans and shoots in me, making creamy pumping magic, pulsing in the core of me. We pulse together. He gives a little laugh. Not derisive: pure joy. Whew. Fuck. Amazing. Was it good for you, his hugeness still in my deepest place, his fading pulses still sending goosebumps and a burning thrill up my sides. I shudder from the core, embracing the joy of having been taken and fucked completely.

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