From: FCPHAW@news.delphi.com (FCPHAW@DELPHI.COM)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: FCP: A True Story  (m/m, minors)
Date: 3 Aug 1995 21:34:38 -0400

FAN CHA PHAW PRESENTS:

A TRUE STORY

The following file contains adult sexual matter. If you are
under the legal age to read such material, exit now, and go
watch the Power Rangers.

If you, or your community standards are offended by male-
male sex, and sex between boy, and between men and boys,
exit now, and do not continue reading.

Fan Cha Phaw does not condone the activities depicted in
this story. Fan Cha Phaw does not advocate the breaking of
any laws known to mankind.

Ishmael Wilkins



These are all true stories. I have considered myself a boy-
lover since I was 15.

It started when I was eight years old and sexually active with
my six-year-old best friend. Though we understood little, we
both enjoyed fondling and touching each other.

At nine, I had my first experience with a man, a close friend
to my father. Too young to understand what was behind the
love he had for me, I told my mom about the incident. She
raised all types of hell and my father threatened to kick his
ass. It never happened, though, and once the initial shock
wore off, my father and the man remained friends. Over the
next two years, there was minimal contact between this man
and myself, but at 11 I wanted him to seduce me again, and
set up a situation where he did.

Between ten and 13 I continued to be sexually active with
my younger male friends as well as my older brother's
friends. We played all types of games which led up to
innocent sex, and really enjoyed them.

At 13, I was introduced to the art of masturbation by an 11-
year-old. We played a game called draw. We both had three
sticks. Like in the cowboy shows, we started off back to back
and walked forward ten paces. The object was to try to hit
your opponent with a stick before he hit you. The loser had
to submit to a punishment of the winner's choice. He hit me
first, so he said we had to go into the house and up to my
room, where he told me to strip, which I did. The first thing
he did was to give me a pink belly. Then he started fondling
my cock. It didn't take long for me to get hard. Normally that
would have been it, but he decided as part of my punishment
to take it a step further. He made a fist around my cock and
started rubbing it skillfully up and down. About two minutes
later, I felt something that I had never felt before--like a
warm, pleasant itch, and with each stroke it kept getting
stronger and stronger. I became frightened by the feeling,
stopped him and made an excuse that I had to use the
bathroom. He honored my request. It wasn't till a couple
weeks later that I ejaculated for the first time. The feeling
was so intense and pleasurable that I no longer felt
frightened by it, and in fact sought after it.

Between 13 and 15 I could not get enough sex with my
friends. we did everything together, with the ultimate goal of
ejaculation.

By the time I was 15 I realized that I was different from the
other teenagers in my high school, and not only in my sexual
interests. Instead of wearing my hair Beatle-style and long,
which was the trend in the mid-60s, I wore a crew cut. I did
not indulge in pot, which was becoming pretty widespread,
nor did I like rock and roll music, which for a teenager
during that time was considered really square. Instead of
playing football, I enjoyed wrestling and was on the school's
soccer team, at a time when soccer was still considered a
girl's sport. I had no interest in girls, and in fact realized for
the first time that I was a boy-lover. This knowledge was
enhanced by my first real love affair.

His name was Bobby, and he was 12. I was with another
friend, working on his train set in his basement when Bobby
appeared. He was a beautiful boy, well-built, with a cherubic
face, long 60s-style hair, and with a hint of mischieviousness
in his dark eyes. I fell in love with him almost immediately.
We became friends that day and I made a point to be with
him as much as possible.

He had a paper route, and I would ride my bike out to meet
him and help him deliver papers. All the while I kept
fantasizing about him when I was alone. I would jack off,
dreaming that one day a sexual relationship would develop
between us.

One afternoon about a month after I met him, we were
finishing his paper route when he said he wanted to show me
a fort that he and his younger brother had constructed in the
woods behind his house. Naturally I was eager to see it. The
fort was about 100 yards down a dirt trail, completely
secluded from the rest of the neighborhood. Although it was
a crudely made fort that bordered a fallen oak tree, it looked
great to me. He took out a deck of cards and asked if I knew
how to play strip poker.

I was stunned by his question. Since I really did not know
how to play, he described the game to me. I readily agreed,
and to make it more interesting I suggested that we play for
punishment. He agreed wholeheartedly.

 He beat me the first round, and I ended up buck-ass naked
on top of the fallen tree trunk. He used the side of his hands
to give me chops from the chest down to my lower belly. He
seemed fascinated by my thatch of pubic hair and ran his
fingers through it. Finally, closing his fingers around my
erection, he started moving it back and forth, pretending that
he was driving a car with a stick shift. He had no idea of the
feelings he was inducing in me, and stopped before anything
else happened.

We played another hand, and this time I won. I was equally
fascinated by his dark, tanned body and the small erect cock
that jutted straight up from his hairless loins. It could not
have been more than four inches long and was not thicker
than my middle finger. I fondled it, and ran my hand
underneath to cup his acorn-sized balls. I rolled his slim dick
between the palms of my hands. We did not go as far as
stroking and fondling each other to orgasm, but what fun we
had that warm spring afternoon. I'll never forget it. I was
hooked completely. I now had a 12-year-old lover and the
fantasies that I had jerked off to had become reality.

Toward the end of the summer, Bobby and I went skinny
dipping at an isolated clear-water pond. No one else was
there, so we had the time of our lives. As we were relaxing
under the shade of a weeping willow tree, Bobby reached out
and playfully grasped my cock. It had already been half hard
and it did not take him long to coax it into a full erection.
Somehow his fingertips had stimulated it to a point like
never before. He kept fondling, squeezing, and rubbing it to
the point of no return. I warned him that I was about to shoot
off, but that did not faze him. I ejaculated my thick white
cum all over his fingertips in powerful spurts. He was
amazed, never having seen anyone do that before. He
wondered whether or not he could do that, and asked me to
rub him, which I was more than happy to do.

As my hand fondled his dick I noticed a single hair sprouting
out from his otherwise bald mound. He didn't believe me
when I told him, so I playfully pulled it and he let out a yelp
and begged me not to pull it out. My fingers wrapped around
his slim cock and I skillfully rubbed him, centering on the
most sensitive area on the underside of his shaft. In a few
minutes I saw him tense up and begin to shudder. A second
later my efforts were rewarded by a tiny clear drop that
bubbled out from his pulsating cock.

Our relationship lasted for another year, but by the time I
was 17 and he was 14 it had petered out. I had graduated
from high school and was now working full-time and
attending a community college. He went on to become a
football star in high school, and had his own circle of friends.
But for those two years we had a beautiful love for each
other, and the sex we shared was wonderful.

Although I'm not presently in a position to have any
relationships with boys, I think back to those wonderful
years of my adolescence.

--J.K.