Free Love and Teenage Chickenhawks    
          by Oskar M.    

This work of fiction contains explicit material meant for an adult readership over 18. If descriptive sex stories with preteen boys are not your thing, do not continue. 

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   I spent my childhood in a multi-ethnic part of the city. The residential working-class neighborhood was teeming with kids. A multitude of brothers and sisters, dressed in second-hand clothes, obtained from an elder or a charity.

Despite the relative poverty, no one suffered from depression. It was the mid-70s. The claws of religion had slackened their grip on people. An atmosphere of 'Peace and Love' still reigned supreme. Everyone did whatever they wanted. Tall girls went to work on roller skates, hair flowing in the wind. Hippies lying on the lawn of the park made crowns of flower and passed the hash pipe.

Living in this environment of freedom and promiscuity, children became mature before their time. At nine-years-old, I was already masturbating and so were my friends. Sex held no secrets because boys gathered in clusters. Each one contributed to the collective education of the group. Huddled together, we feasted on stories of girls who, according to the rumor, would take it in every hole. We participated in circle jerks and shared the under garment pages of store catalogs.

Not a day went by where we didn’t talk about sex and committed mischief. Raised on store-bought mac and cheese, we were all hyperactive and thin as picket fences. Amidst this unruly bunch, I distinguished myself with long disheveled blond hair, braces and a special status - the only child of a single mother. Otherwise, I was in every way a typical kid of the era. I wore Adidas shorts with tube socks every day. I went swimming at the public pool in an insanely teeny Speedo. My favorite candy cost two pennies and my only prized possession was a BMX bike.

It was a great time to be a boy. We were free to roam around until dusk. We were all looking to play some game or sport which made it easier to find a best bud. Mine was a loony redhead named Randy. He kept his mane of long orange hair from getting in his face with a bandana, like his idol, the tennis star Bjorn Borg. The kid made me laugh hysterically. He could contort his freckled face in many hideous grimaces that always amused me.

I often went to Randy's house after school. His sister arrived later and his parents were not back from work. We could do whatever we felt like, usually playing with our bodies. Conveniently, his dad kept a stash of porn magazines in a closet that aroused our curiosity amongst other things. There was a nice variety of smut, from the classy to total trash. Since the progressive man supported equal rights of women, he also purchased copies of ‘Playgirl’ for his wife. Those were all of nude furry-chested men with mustaches smiling for no reason. To me, they all looked like my uncle Frank.

Within a few minutes of looking at naked adults, Randy and I were horny and ready to beat off. Strangely, the ginger boy preferred rubbing on a stuffed toy banana. The gigantic four feet tube was as big as he was. He’d won the yellow thing at the amusement park after popping three balloons with darts.

- I like it better this way! Randy announced before each demonstration.

With his shorts and underpants around his ankles, he straddled the banana and raped it. The spectacle exposing the intimacy of my friend made my dick very hard. Randy’s small white buttocks wiggled up and down, back and forth. I masturbated fiercely looking at his backside.

- Ooohhh baby you like that! Ooooh! Randy cheered with every lunge of his slim hips. Ohh baby yeah! Ooohhh Ooohhh! He continued to coo, rubbing his stiffy wildly on the silky plush.

The idea of ​​climbing on his back and humping his cute ass triggered my climax. Randy continued to copulate for a moment and froze on the big banana, also seized with a dry orgasm.

If Randy's performance turned me on every time, I didn’t reserve my friendship exclusively to him and also spent time with an older boy who lived next door. The latter was called Marvin, an eleven-year-old Jamaican kid. My jovial neighbor displayed an eternal smile on his fleshy lips. He had an athletic body and looked taller because of the big Afro on his head.

In a short time, I developed a physical relationship with Marvin. Perhaps because of the two year age difference and skin color, I was particularly interested in his company.  Also, he provided me with ganja that we smoked together on his bed to the sound of ‘Saturday in the park’ in the background. The wise boy was in favor of mutual contact. He didn’t want me to beat off separately. I adhered to his reasoning. After all, why do it together if you use your own hand?

So, we took turns contenting each other, standing one behind the other. Marvin started first. He walked up to me, pressing his flat stomach on my back. He pulled down my shorts and underwear. Then, he hooked his arm in front. His fingers played with my balls and my small penis for a while. When it was stiff, he rubbed it delicately, eliciting a delicious sensation that reminded me of my babysitter fiddling my thingy during bath time at age four.

In turn, I settled behind Marvin and reciprocated, ogling at his beautiful naked body. He had a stunning bubble butt, round, black and firm. His hard-on was surprisingly long for an eleven-year-old boy – almost five inches. I had practically as much fun touching his big chocolate erection as when he touched my dickie. Since he was circumcised, Marvin instructed me to manipulate him roughly. I wrapped my fingers around his dick and used relentless flicks of the wrist to please him. The black boy moaned loudly, his tongue sticking out like a happy dog. After a few minutes he exclaimed:

- Ohhh, Am goona squirt! Am goona squirt!

I craned my neck to see the small milky eruptions gushing from the tip of his brown dick, jealous of his physical maturity.

* * *

   Besides these two boys, I never hesitated when the opportunity to drop my shorts with a classmate or another kid arose. As long as we were in a discreet place, away from the scrutiny of adults, I was open to any clandestine activity between children.

Of course, we didn’t go around touching each other all day long. Full of energy, all the boys in the neighborhood played improvised soccer matches or ‘capture the flag’. Our favorite diversion was ‘Battle to death’. The confrontational game consisted in a primitive kind of Sumo wrestling. Two at a time, we climbed on the shed in Mr. Grant’s backyard with one goal in mind, pushing your opponent off the roof. The loser had three seconds to regain his balance and land upright. We fought bare feet on the hot tin surface, thinking warriors had to burn the soles of their feet to be heroic.

The champion at this game was Rolando. He was sixteen and certainly too old to play with kids. But, he participated anyway, taking pleasure in winning every one-on-one ‘deathmatch’, an easy way to flatter his ego. Rolando always arrived fashionably late. He took off his psychedelic tee-shirt and engaged in battle. It was a massacre. Kids in my gang dropped like flies. All the while, Rolando smiled wickedly. You could tell he genuinely enjoyed throwing little boys off a roof. After his victories, the arrogant teen did a silly dance and taunted us:

- So who's the next twerp in line? Who wants to eat grass?

I did not appreciate Rolando’s attitude but at the same time I could not hate him. The Italian boy was handsome. He stroked a comb through his jet-black hair all the time. His blue eyes sparkled like an ocean landscape. Above all, he wore skinny jeans that created a lovely bulge at crotch level.

Against him, I had no chance of triumphing and always resigned myself to being pushed off the roof. This occurred a lot until came a magical day. Before our duel, Rolando decided to adopt poses of a bodybuilder, showing his biceps, kissing his ‘guns’. He wasn’t paying attention to me. The opportunity proved too good to pass. One lunge forward and it was over. To my astonishment, I found myself alone on the roof of the shed. Skies were blue and the world was my oyster. I had managed to push the ‘big kid’ down! My euphoria was quickly replaced by fright as Rolando wailed down below. He held his arm and rolled on the ground.

- Arggh!! It hurts! It’s your fault! Arggh! You broke my arm! It not fair, I wasn’t ready! Arrggh! It hurts! It’s all your fault!

Alarmed by his accusation, I fled on my short legs before he could beat me up with his other arm. Back home, my heart continued to thump non-stop. For hours, Rolando's lamentations echoed in my ears. I hardly found sleep that night.

The very next day, after school, I hurried to his house and rang the doorbell, gnawed by guilt. Rolando welcomed me coldly. His right arm was encased in white plaster from the elbow to the second knuckle of his fingers. The shock of seeing him that way rattled me.

- I’m sorry! I didn’t want to! I said, following him inside, glued to his heels like a blond puppy as he strolled away to his room.

Rolando stretched on his bed and listened as I implored his clemency. I was terribly afraid that his parents would sue mine. Or worse, that the police would come, arrest me and send me to jail for the rest of my life. At nine-years-old, I watched a lot of cop shows on TV and believed that adult sanctions applied to children as well.

Rolando remained silent, unmoved by my clamor. As a last resort, I begged him:

- Can I do something to make it up? Anything you want!

A strange gleam passed through Rolando’s eyes. His left hand grasped his crotch.

- You're going to come here and take care of this every day, he said.
- Uh?
- I'm right-handed. He pointed out, waving the cast, his boring gaze indicating that he thought I was stupid.
- So?
- I can’t jerk off, dummy. You're gonna do it for me. Come here, get my dick out.

Curiously, Rolando’s proposal seemed fair considering the damage I had caused him. I approached and attacked each button on the fly of his jeans with my little fingers. I was both afraid and eager to see what he was hiding under that layer of denim. Rolando lifted his buttocks to help me out as I pulled on his undies. His package jumped out of the pair of briefs. He had plump balls, a tuft of black hair and a huge cock, even limp. Attributes that far exceeded what I had anticipated and made me hesitate.

- What are you waiting for? Rolando mumbled.

I grabbed his big droopy sausage. It immediately began to harden. My eyes locked on it as it swelled. Soon, I was holding in my little fist the fat eight-inch boner of a sixteen-year-old boy. I spat in the palm of my hand and tugged on the rigid mass. Clear juice started to ooze from the pee slit facilitating the repetitive movement. Seeing I had things in hand, Rolando laid his head on the pillow.

- Hmmm, that’s nice, he said, I didn’t think a kid could do it better than me. Ohh, you're really good at this…

The compliment made me blush. As he moaned, I watched my hand go up and down on his big turgid penis, wondering how long it would take to satisfy him. After five minutes, Rolando squirmed on the mattress, his body tortured by pleasure. But it took ten minutes before he yanked on his tee-shirt and watched his cock blast wads of thick cum all over it. The number of blasts mesmerized me; three, five, seven, nine times! The head of his cock flared and vomited. Rolando groaned every time his balls tightened to propel another dose of jizz. The caustic odors of the older boy, his convulsions and a claustrophobic feeling overwhelmed me. Having to come back every day to jerk him off seemed now, a most horrible chore.

- How long do you have to keep your cast, Rolando? I inquired sheepishly.

- Six weeks, he retorted and grinned widely.

* * *

   Throughout this period, my wrist was sore. I beat off alone and with my buddies. I jerked off Rolando and sometimes his friend Matt, who ‘happened’ to be there at the same time. In a few weeks, news of my manual reparation spread amongst the teenagers of the neighborhood. As we crossed path on the sidewalk, they laughed and moved their wrists suggestively. I gave them the middle finger.

Nevertheless, being a single child, my access to this universe of goofy teenagers enchanted me. Their freedom of action was attractive. They could get jobs in the local stores. They could earn money to take their girlfriends out, buy records or snacks. Those were all extraordinary privileges for a nine-year-old kid getting at best a quarter to buy candy.

In frequenting Rolando and his friends on a daily basis, I lived their lives by proxy. In the same way, I learned about the relationship between big and little brothers, among other things that there existed a parallel economy using sexual favors as a currency. A bike repair cost a blowjob and protection from a bully, a weekly bj. This way for kids to get benefits was very appealing to me. I quickly took advantage of this fraternal system to extract from older boys a pack of cigarettes, some kind of service or actual dollar bills. The unwritten rule required that the performance last at least five minutes to be deemed an 'official blowjob'. You had to swallow everything. Two conditions quite acceptable for a shameless kid like me.

A teenager in particular became a loyal barter partner. His name was Sebastian. The shy boy of fourteen thought I was cute. I didn’t feel the same way about him. Sebastian had a thick mop of curly brown hair that fell on a pimpled forehead. His body was gangly. And since he was nearsighted, he wore a huge pair of glasses. Regardless of my disdain, I pedaled to his house on Sunday morning while his folks attended mass. Sebastian got out of bed, took off his undies and sat his bony ass on the floor next to a lava lamp. He spread his knees and flaunted his morning hard-on, trying to impress me.

- Take you clothes off too, the perverse teen said, insisting every time that I strip naked.

Having no modesty, I took off everything and knelt. I leaned forward between his legs and licked his cock, peeled the foreskin back then gobbled up the head to gently suckle it. Sebastian avoided looking at my face but couldn’t help it.

- Ohhh, dammit, Ohhhh! He groaned, already overheating.

The teen almost fainted when I began to suck in earnest. He turned red like a lobster and struggled to inhale a satisfying breath. In his defense, I was really good and his cock suited me perfectly. I could almost engulf it all. Lips clenched around the shaft, I moved my head gradually faster to hear him moan louder. On the way down, the tip of my nose grazed his pubic bush. The more I sucked vigorously, the more it delighted me to hear him wail:

- Ohhhh dammit! Ohhhh! Orrrrghhh!

After a while, Sebastian couldn’t take it anymore. His entire body was tensed. The veins on his legs were like copper wiring. He grabbed the back of my blond head and held it firmly down. I felt the hard flesh swell and pulsate at the entrance of my throat. I gulped down the slimy cream thinking of how I would spend the money he would give me. While he ejaculated, Sebastian glared at me like a hawk behind his glasses, making sure I was really swallowing his load.

* * *

   At that time, my new buddy of the moment was more ill-mannered than me. Luke was a rat-like little Irish kid. He had a thin face, a small mouth with tiny teeth and beady eyes. His head was shaven. It made his ears look big.

We wandered together on the sidewalks of our neighborhood looking for fun, two naughty nine-year-olds with nothing else to do but cause trouble. If an adult dared to reprimand us for some vandalism or bad behavior, Luke mooned the grownup and we ran away.

My pal’s favorite prank was putting miniature firecrackers in the handbag of old ladies. He sneaked up behind them, lit up the tiny red sticks and dropped them in their purse. We both laughed our heads off watching the wrinkled ladies scream, holding their hat and dancing around, thinking the noise was gunshots.

Needless to say, I liked Luke a lot and went to his home on a regular basis. He lived in a nearby three-storey house with his uncle and four older brothers in the age range of thirteen to nineteen. His uncle joked that his household was a 'sausage fest', which was very funny to me. Luke had his own room where I spent hours playing board games, fooling around and listening to his wild stories. Some that were unbelievable and some that were assuredly true. Of all things, my buddy boasted that his brothers began sexing him up when he was three-years-old. He also confessed that he loved doing a threesome where one of his brothers licked his butthole while he did a 69 with the other.

With the unscrupulous boy, I frequented Rolando and his friends’ gatherings. They took place in the basement of a house when the parents were away. The group was composed of eight to ten older boys, some of which were Luke’s brothers. They drank beer, smoked joints and listened to Pink Floyd. The indolent teenagers entertained conversations that made no sense and laughed in slow motion. Even Luke and I got stoned because a cloud of smoke constantly floated in the air.

Sometimes, one of the teens tickled me or hoisted me on his lap for a cuddle or a groping as if I was his girlfriend. Out of boredom, someone usually suggested that we do another suck fight. Two of the boys wobbled to their feet, lowered their bell-bottom pants and underwear. The contest was simple. Luke and I had to suck their cocks as quickly as possible to make them cum. The other boys attending the party placed bets on the outcome.

At the signal, I jumped on the limp teenage prick in front of my face and shoved it in my mouth. I bobbed my head madly, hoping to win the prize: a beer. From the corner of my eye, I could see Luke doing the same thing. He held the cock of his partner in his little hand and slid his wet lips on it with an equal determination. Since we both had experience in blowing dicks, the competition was intense. No one could predict whose mouth would get filled with sauce first. When the round was over, it started again with two other boys, until we had drained the balls of all the teenagers on the spot.

* * *

   Sucking dicks wasn’t a big deal despite the reputation it gave me and being called a cocksucker once in a while. I didn’t care, and knew it was a step above the worst: ‘boned in the butt’. Little boys who took dick up the ass lost all respect. I had heard the names of a few kids my age or younger who had been sodomized by a brother or a cousin. The jokes about them were ruthless. But even as mean as they were, they kept some restraint since the boy was usually na´ve and had been deceived into getting butt fucked by a cunning family member. Above all, a kid could not give his ass to an 'acquaintance'. Apparently, an eleven-year-old Puerto Rican kid did it with anyone without asking for compensation. Everyone thought he was the biggest slut of the neighborhood, including me.

Anyway, having seen the cock size of several teenagers, I did not envisage the possibility that my little bottom could be used this way. The obscene, though enticing, propositions for my cherry from blunt older boys were always declined with a categorical 'No'.

My resolution got even stronger after what I saw at Luke’s house. I sometimes slept over in a sleeping bag next to his bed. One night, awakened by thirst, I noticed that my friend was no longer under the sheets. After drinking a glass of water in the bathroom, I set out to find my buddy in the sleeping house. Clad in a pair of white briefs, I ventured in the hallways aimlessly. Then, a noise attracted me to the basement. Going down the steps, I spotted Luke in the distance, near the furnace. He was with one of his brothers, the middle one of fifteen whose name was Eric.

Just as I was about to say, 'What the hell are you doing?' my vision adjusted to the darkness. You didn’t have to be Einstein to figure out what was going on. The two boys had their underpants around their ankles. Eric held Luke in his arms, the flat of his hand on his mouth. The knees of the teenager were bent and his buttocks dimpled with each thrust of his hips. I could hear Luke's weak grunts through his brother's fingers.

My reaction was to crawl behind a stack of boxes and stare like a voyeur. The brothers shifted and I got to see Luke clearly, with both hands on his ass cheeks keeping them apart. There was no doubt now that he was taking Eric’s big chubby in the butt. Since Luke was nine-years-old like me, I could imagine the pain he felt taking this large prick in his tiny poop hole. Whenever Eric sent his cock farther inside, Luke’s bald little head titled back and his eyes bulged out of their sockets.

For long minutes, I witnessed the scene. Eric jammed his cock increasingly faster inside Luke’s butt, until my friend started to squeal like a rodent. The teenager slowed down a bit to whisper in his ear:

- I'm almost done...

Then, he sped up again, pumping Luke’s ass steadily, muttering between his teeth:

- Ohhh, squeeze your asshole…That’s it…Yeah, now it feels good... I like doing it really hard like this... Fuck yyyeah... spread your buns wide, I’m gonna take it out and shoot in your hole.

Upon hearing this, I fled like a thief and pretended to be asleep in my bag. Luke returned to the bedroom. He was sniffling. Days later, he admitted casually that all his brothers fucked his butt. Each time, they gave him a Smurf figurine. Luke put the small blue creature on a shelf in his bedroom. This explained how he managed to get the entire collection.

* * *

   Following the eye-opening incestuous encounter between Luke and his older brother, I literally swore to myself that it would never happen to me. In any case, the teenagers I hooked up with were amply satisfied with my oral service. They even allowed me to put down this talent as collateral when we played cards.

Rolando and his friends were avid gamblers. Poker was their game of choice. All of them played with real money. Tag along youngsters like Luke, me and Russ, another wanton kid from the area, could only offer services. We borrowed cash in exchange for potential future blowjobs if we lost. Rolando always loaned me the funds. After all, we had become intimately acquainted after I broke his arm.

One evening, when luck wasn’t on my side, I was losing the equivalent of 4 blowjobs. Rolando, in his infinite kindness, offered that I play double or nothing to get back in the game. With a cigarette between my lips, I stared intently at the cards fanned out in my hand, much like a gangster. In spite of my determination to win, all the cards sent my way were under ten, not a single ace or king. Soon, I was down 8 blowjobs, then 16. Rolando’s friends were joking.

- Holy shit, you're gonna have your own little cocksucker! Your mom’s gonna be happy, she won’t have to do it anymore!

Like all nine-year-old smarty pants who think they are invincible, I continued to try my luck, hoping to erase my debt all at once and save my dignity. But the number doubled every time. It seemed like the forces of the world were against me. In a state of panic, I folded, opting to owe 64 blowjobs to Rolando. An excessive number since I could not count to it on my fingers, not even if I used my toes.

A few days later, I joined Rolando in his room to make my first refund. The Italian teen sported a winning smile on his lips, his blue eyes full of malice. He took off his jeans while I knelt down on the floor. My mind was focused on getting the job done quickly. It took a few seconds before I registered Rolando’s suggestion.

- Hey, maybe we can make a deal, he sang, looking down at me.
- Uh?
- 64 bjs, that’s a lot, right? I could forget them if you let me do it in your butt.
- Nooo, I replied, lowering my chin.
- Are you scared?
- I'm not scared! I lied.
- Well then, let’s do it? You got a cute ass.
- I don’t want to.
- You’d rather do 64 bjs? That’s stupid. I’ve done it with Juan and Russ. They loved it, trust me!
- Not me.
- You're chicken shit, that's it. You know you're gonna cry like a little girl.
- I won’t cry!
- Yes, you’re a wimp. A crybaby who will run to his mommy!

Rolando’s incessant badgering of my virility got to me. The next second, I was undressing. I wanted to show him that I was no longer a little kid, although that was exactly what I was. In the back of my mind, I also took into account clearing that debt of 64 blowjobs, a definite advantage to this agreement. Even though, I was confident about my decision, I suddenly felt vulnerable, baring my ass in front of the teenager. Rolando pressed his hand on my back to bend me over his bed. He kept it there, on my spine, probably afraid I might change my mind. With his other hand, he rubbed Vaseline on his dick.

- I bet you'll cry, he whispered.
- Nuh-uh, I whined, lifting my behind to indicate how eager I was to take it in the can.

As the tip of his cock grazed my anus, all the cons of this situation flooded my mind. Rolando, at sixteen-years-old, was the most robust boy in the neighborhood and without a doubt the one with the biggest penis. It was already too late. The head of his cock was forcing the entrance. I clenched my teeth as he pushed against the small orifice without respite. For a moment, it appeared like it could never possibly get in. Suddenly, his big hard-on burst inside of me, wrenching a long growl of despair out of my throat. Immediately, my body was electrified. Rolando gripped my thin waist and began to fuck my little butt right away.

- Oh, sweet! You’re really tight! He commented, adding a few chuckles to humiliate me.

I could feel his throbbing flesh spearing in my rectum. My delicate little pucker hurt like hell and my eyes were itchy. In spite of this, I kept my ass up and cringed, intent in showing Rolando that I was not weak. Every passing minute, he thrust deeper into me. Soon, the horny teen was merrily pumping my butt. Holding the covers on the bed in my small fists, I repressed the desire to break down and bawl, choosing to grunt instead.

- Oh man, that feels goood, Rolando murmured under his breath. Yeah, that’s it… mmm, take it in the ass... Do you like my cock? It’s really nice and big, uh?

I knew Rolando wanted me to flatter his ego, to tell him he was strong and the best. It disgusted me. But I did not want to upset him and responded with a feeble, 'yes'.

When he stopped moving, I figured it was over. Rolando grabbed my buns and parted them. He started to stuff his big cock deeper in my asshole, albeit slowly but deliberately. I shrieked and slammed my face on the mattress. He backed off a bit and then tried again. After a moment, I made the mistake of turning my head. Rolando’s balls rested in the smooth valley of my buttocks. My poor little hole was scarlet and stretched around the thick base of his cock. The bastard had crammed the whole cannolo in there. I wanted to pass out. Rolando must have seen the concern of my face because he pulled out gently and invited me to the middle of the room.

- Come here. Bend over and hold your ankles. Now, I’m gonna make you cry.

I obeyed, accustomed to the position in which my mom punished me with a wooden spoon, except that this time I was naked. Rolando took off the tee-shirt he had kept and did a narcissistic dance, his shiny erection bouncing up and down. He approached behind me and plunged his cock in my anus. His hands gripped my hips to hold me in place. He started to fuck me again with more vigor. My little balls flailed all about from the force of his thrusts. I wrapped my fingers tightly around my ankles, trying to keep my balance as he banged my butt.

- Oooooh Rolando, please don’t do it so hard! I complained with my squeaky voice.

Eyes shut I tried to think of something else so as not to live the present moment. The more time advanced, the more he fucked me harder with quick powerful bursts.

- Oh yeah ... mmm Ohhh yeah mmmm! Rolando jubilated, ramming his cock to the hilt in my asshole.
- Annngh! Please don’t do it so hard! I complained again.

But the teen didn’t slow down. He continued to pound away, making sure to keep my butt at the right height. When my hips sagged, he lifted them quickly with both hands. I was folded in two, standing on the tip of my toes, at his mercy. The next instant, my feet were off the floor. At that point, Rolando was nailing me with all his teenage strength. Suspended by the waist in the air, I still held on to my ankles. The sound of his hips slapping against my buttocks echoed in the room. I could see my long blond hair sweeping the floor and couldn’t help but squeal as he harpooned me:

- Annngh! Anngh! Rolando! Anngggh!
- Oh Shiiit yeah, just a bit more. I'm gonna cum in your ass soon, he blurted out to reassure me.

When finally his hot sap exploded in my bowel, a groan of joy escaped my lips. Rolando shook me like a doll with every jolt of pleasure from his orgasm. For a couple of minutes, I felt his cock unloading hot cum inside of me. Afterwards, Rolando lowered me back on the floor and pulled out. Then, he lit up a smoke from his pack. I calmly put my clothes back on, glancing at him as he savored his cigarette naked. In between puffs, he just said, “That was hot.”

On my way back home, I limped a bit but was rather proud. In fact, a smile illuminated my face. I honestly believed that I had had the upper hand on Rolando. The teen stud had boned me in the butt and I had not shed a single tear.

 The End.
Previous Works

A Precocious Debauchery
Being my Big Brother's Bitch
Certain Rules for a Gay Childhood
Down and Dirty with Danny
Elliot's Big Secret