I must preface this story by saying that it is pure fantasy. As you might know, I don't always write fantasy. Sometimes I write fact disguised as fantasy. It's up to you to tell the difference. I avoid the usual disclaimers because, I figure, why are you here in the first place? Wouldn't you like to be surprised for a change?
What Me and Mozart Have in Common:
by Larkin, .... jet2larkin (at) gmail (.) com
July 2012, copyright
The School Bus.
We lived in the suburbs. My Mom was still trying to dress me each morning when she knew perfectly well that I could do it on my own. I let her do it and used the time to daydream. She stretches out my underpants and holds them down for me to step into each leg hole. Then she roughly pulled on my tee shirt. It was the one with the picture of a rabbit pulling a wagon.
"Carter! Did you do your homework last night?"
I said, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yea, ye, y."
I sat with my chin resting on the kitchen table. A plate of steaming scrambled eggs in front of me.
I hate eggs.
My Mother was rushing back and forth and making a fuss over who knows what? When she wasn't looking, I folded my scrambled eggs into a paper napkin. It was so I could get rid of them somewhere else.
As if in a panic, she screamed. "Carter! Hurry up you'll miss your bus!"
Slowly, I slid off the chair and slowly I put on my jacket and slowly I walked out the door. I stood out on the curb in front of my house. My eyes were open but I was asleep. I dreamt I was flying. I was soaring up and down. I heard a loud sniff. I looked and it was Katelyn. Her nose was running. Our eyes met and then I went back to my daydream.
The bus pulled up and there was a loud squish and the door opened. School was ok, it was just getting to and from that was the problem. It took forever. Katelyn sat up next to the driver. That was fine with me. I made my way to the back of the bus. I slumped down in the seat so that my chin rested on my chest and my legs were spread and dangling. This bus ride goes on and on and on and on.
David stood there looking down at me. I looked at his broken front tooth. I didn't move from my slumped position. I just slyly moved my eyes up in his direction so that I could see him. The whole bus is empty and he sits next to me?
David reaches over and starts fiddling with my pants. My eyes open wide. He looks up to see if anyone on the bus can see him. Then he looks back at me and reassures me that it is ok. He slides his hand down my pants and takes hold of my penis. Why am I letting him do this? He pulls my pants and underpants part way down and starts fiddling with my dickie. It starts to glow and then the glow begins to spread through my body. He tickles my balls and my little cock stands up all by itself. He puts his hand down on my chest to keep me from sitting up and he continues to pull and stroke on my boner. With no other choice, I give in and relax.
Why can't this bus ride go on forever?
I looked over at David and he has something in his hand. It's his boner. Holding it tightly in his hand, He squirts pee on the back of the seat in front of us. This is definitely better than my usual daydream. I look up and Tommy, David's friend is in the seat in front of us and he is up on his knees looking down at me. He giggled his approval. He reaches down and tugs at my boner too. David sits up higher and tries to push his boner into my mouth. Both he and Tommy hold my head so I can't move away. They are both excited and giggling.
The bus is beginning to fill up but no one is going to tell because David and Tommy are tough guys. I try to hold them off until they stop but then they start it all over again. Soon I was blowing David on the bus on my way to school. I open my mouth and let him stick it in.
The bus pulls up in front of the school and the commotion of students leaving the bus put a sudden end to it.
Davis whispered in my ear. "Just you wait, I'm gonna get you on the way home."
I was untroubled by the prospect.
My Back Story:
Just to get it out of the way and also to give you an idea of who I am and how I got that way..
My name is Carter Littlewood.
>From what I knew about my, Dad, which wasn't much, was that he was intelligent, handsome and that he made enough money to support my Mom and me after their marriage broke up. I was the pawn that they used against each other and since my Dad wouldn't play, I never saw him much after the age of three.
My Mother was highly feminine, flamboyant and impossibly difficult. It is an explanation enough for my Father to put geographical distance between us. Her whole life was a show of what she thought other people thought was important. She was full of pretentious opulence and false glamour. Like a Siamese cat, I was her ever present familiar. When I was too young to protest, she dressed me to match her outlandish outfits and drug me around as if I was her toy poodle.
Fortunately by the time I started school, she had quieted down and taken an alcoholic lover. It was then that she finally let me begin to lead a normal life. Of course all of these early excesses had a lifelong lasting effect on me.
I started school the same time as most kids but quickly skipped from third grade to fourth grade putting me in a room with kids a bit older. I don't want to say that I was smarter than everyone else, but third graders can be idiots. I didn't seem to have anything in common with them.
I think the qualities that helped me more than anything was that I started reading on my own very early and I read everything I could get my hands on. The other thing was that I started playing with myself by the age of seven, maybe even earlier. Perhaps it was the tension generated by my parent's divorce. The funny thing was that at first, I didn't associate it with other people. It was just my secret way of pleasing myself and experiencing intense pleasure adding to the way I looked at life.
If I was reading a fantasy book and I would read the description of some magical kingdom, I would play with myself and imagine that I was really there. So I guess you could really say that books were my first love.
Everything in school came to me quickly with little or no effort on my part. I had just turned 10 by the time I was supposed to go into the sixth grade when, at my Mother's insistence, I was skipped to the seventh grade. That put me right into the middle school with kids two and three years older.
Being much younger and much smaller posed special problems and advantages. Of the problems, I found that I really did have to try a lot harder to keep track of my classes and stay ahead of my studies. I needed to be clever enough to avoid bullies and sports jocks who were always trying to prove something. On the positive side girls were always trying to protect me and while I liked them and had fun with them, I had no interest beyond that.
I had no understanding why, but I began to notice and look at boys in class. Some were so cute, some were incredibly creepy and others had qualities I liked but didn't know why. I was years away from my own puberty but they were all right in the middle of theirs. Maybe it was in the air. Is it possible to get contact puberty? David got up and went to the front of the class. I looked at the way his pants fit his behind. Could it be that just breathing in their hormones was waking me up mentally? When he returned to his seat, I looked into his face. He had a twisted smile and he looked directly into my eyes. That's when I noticed his chipped tooth. I felt something go through my whole body.
I was a bookworm, a wimp, I was physically immature, I had a high voice and yet, I was entirely ready for what was next.
Continued upon request.
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