Date: Tue, 9 Dec 2014 21:55:28 +0000 From: Jo HOrny Subject: Horny Young Joe Part 1 I love to hear feedback, especially from horny daddies. My email address is daddyseeker14@gmail.com PROLOGUE I don't regret who I am at all. I can't imagine my life any other way, and I love my life. So, I don't have any regrets. This is the story of how I became a faggot. Oh, I know that the word has many negative connotations, but I was taught what it truly meant a few years ago. And the realization that I was a faggot has freed me. I am not going to lie about the motivations of some of the men I have met; lots of them wants to use me for sex, and I let them. It's that word that is the sticking point for many people. Use. If I am used for sex, am I a victim. Sometimes maybe, but most of the time the use goes two ways. We both get what we want from the experience. So will start from the beginning. And the beginning, for me, is Mr Dodds. ---------------------------------------- Part 1 - MEETING MR DODDS My parents worked all the time. They were typical middle class LA type: Mother is a lawyer, and father is a Movie Exec. When they were at home, they ignored each other, and only barely noticed me. I know some of you will say this is the root cause of who am. Of course it is! We are what our parents make us, until we can control our own destiny that is. When they were at home, Dad was coked out of his head most of the time, and Mom drank wine. So, from about the age of 9 I was left to my own devices in the house. And an unfiltered internet. This was back in 2008. What really spurred on my situation is that I went through some kind of early puberty. By that, I mean that my hormones kicked in. I was rubbing and touching my penis constantly and everything got me horny. It wasn't long before I started looking at pictures on the web. It was men that got be excited from the get go, and I began to collect pictures on my computer to look at over and over. Older men did it for me. And then I discovered the dating sites and chat rooms. They all said you had to be 18 to get in there, but that was easy to fake. I had long ago taken one of my Dad's credit cards. He hadn't missed it or cancelled it, and most of the sites just needed a card as proof of age. I trawled those sites looking for men to talk to. It excited me, not just in the sexual sense, but I loved chatting to people online. My profile always said I was 18, but I quickly learnt that I could indicate otherwise by what I said. Some men immediately stopped chatting to me when they guessed, and I was booted from a site on more than one occasion. But others stayed to chat. Mr Dodds was one such individual. I liked the pic on his profile; is showed a tall man in a suit. He was in his forties, and had a ruggedly handsome face. I rubbed at my crotch through my PJs as I stared at the pic, and then clicked to open up a chat with him. "Hello Sir," I said. I always pays to be polite. After a few seconds, he replied. "Hi there Joe." My profile name was HornyYoungJoe. Joseph is my middle name. "Do you want to chat?" I asked. "Sure. Are you horny?" he said. "I am always horny!" "LOL!" The small-talk continued for a few minutes until I said, "I have to go soon. It's nearly my bedtime." There was a pause from his end, then "It's a bit early isn't it?" "My Mom will be up to tuck me in soon." It was a lie. My Mom hadn't tucked me in for at least three years. Another pause. "OK, well I hope you sleep well. Have you got school tomorrow?" "Yes." "What is you favorite subject?" "Math," I said, "We are doing our nine-times-tables tomorrow." It was a lie. I had done those last year. But it had the desired effect. "It's great that you love Math, sweetie. that was my favorite subject too." At the time I thought I was just being friendly. I knew that I felt something when I chatted to these men, but I was very naive. We chatted for another 30 minutes before he asked me if I had a pic. I hadn't put any up on any site for obvious reasons. I had a few on my computer; safe ones of my face, and one of me playing soccer. I sent them both over to him. There was a long pause this time. Then, "Is this really you Joey?" "Yes sir". "Wow! You are cute." "Thanks." Another long pause. "Whereabouts do you live?" "Mar Vista, by the airport." "OK. Cool. I am quite near you." We chatted some more about soccer. He managed to compliment my picture a lot, saying how nice he thought I looked in shorts. I was getting a really nice vibe off him, so when he asked if I wanted to meet him on Saturday, I said yes almost straight away. "How about I meet you outside the Museum of Flying at 9am?" I knew where that was, and it was easy for me to walk to. "Sure. Are we going to go round the museum." "Probably not. I just know it has easy parking." So there it was. An innocent meet-up arranged over the internet. I thought I was going to meet a new friend, and thought nothing much about it until Saturday morning came around. As I was getting dressed that day I remember I thought about what he had said about me looking good in shorts. I chose a pair of soccer shorts that were not very long at all, and a white t-shirt. As usual, my parents didn't care much about what I was doing. I said goodbye to my Mom who was talking with the housekeeper about something. There was a frown on the Mexican woman's face as I left the house; I am sure she disapproved of my mothers parenting style. I made it to the museum in good time after taking some money out of an ATM with my Dad's credit card. Just in case. Who knew what was going to happen?