From: budi001@aol.com (BUDI001) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: FCP: A LESSON FROM LIFE (man/boy) Date: 1 Jun 1995 23:58:04 -0400 Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364) W A R N I N G The following story contains adult material. If you are under the legal age to read such material, exit this story now. FAN CHA PHAW PRESENTS: "A LESSON FROM LIFE" The following story contains sex and sexual situations involving adult homosexuality, and scenes of adult- child sexuality. If you are offended by such things, exit now and do not continue reading. If you are under the legal age to read adult sexual stories, exit this file now. All characters in this story are fictional. They are not real. Fan Cha Phaw does not condone the activities of the actors in this story. Fan Cha Phaw does not advocate the breaking of any laws known to mankind. Ishmael Wilkins Fan Cha Phaw A LESSON FROM LIFE ACT ONE "Life is a bitch, and then you die" Some sage from the twentieth century. Day after day I sit here by my window, wondering how I got myself into this hell-hole, and silently questioning myself if I will ever get out of it again. The noise, filth, and stench is enough to drive anyone crazy, but somehow I will survive. I must survive. I am only three weeks out from behind the wall ... the big house, they call it. I served eight long years, never knowing from day to day if that was going to be my last. Somehow I survived that experience, although at times I wasn't sure that I was going to. I decided that if "they" didn't get to me, the guards would, and if they all failed in their God-driven mission to destroy me, I would probably do it by my own hand. Eight long years was what the judge said. At hard labor. For crimes against society which he wished that he never had to judge against. A menace he called me. A menace to society, and to children where ever they lived and played. To protect society from me, and to protect me from myself, he locked me up with robbers, and murderers. It seemed that the "ears" behind the wall knew just when I was to arrive, because no sooner than I had been processed into the joint, suffering from verbal abuse at the hand of my keepers, I was escorted down the hallways and into the cell block area. As soon as the doors opened I knew that it was the beginning of the end. Although escorted through a protected tunnel, cons lined the tiers above and along my route. They shouted their pleas to the guards to move me nearer to the bars so that they could "greet me," or to move me into their cells so that they could help me feel at home. Through the barrage of laughter and catcalls, came the taunts which I was to soon know all to well. "Diddler" "Baby Fucker" "Child Molester" Word traveled fast behind the wall, and I would not have been too surprised if the guards had not arranged for that greeting. At first I thought that they were going to push me through those bars, and leave me to fend for myself amongst those animals, however, a few minutes more and a few more turns down different hallways and I was led through a doorway to new man's land. My arrival brought a few icy stares from cons resting on their bunks, or huddled around small tables rolling cigarettes and playing cards. A few of those who felt at home already behind the walls made kissing sounds, and let their own brand of humor roll from their lips, making references to the new fish, and the possibilities of immediate marriage in that very block. I was not then use to jail-house slang, but the comments I understood nonetheless. There was only one way to take comments like that. Unless one was totally stupid, he knew at that point that he was in deep shit. Despite the three and a half days spend in new man's land, nothing remarkable took place. I laid waiting every moment I was awake for an attack, or to be confronted by one of those who gained so much pleasure in verbally abusing me throughout the day and night. When none came I was even more surprised, after all, I knew what happened to people with my charges when they went to prison. It was not until I was moved to a segregation unit that I understood why no attacks were made while I was in the new man's section. While in the unit everyone was observed and classified. Although already classified to the maximum security prison, they had yet to be classified within the prison. Some units were worse than others, and some were down right feared. It was this fear of being placed in a bad unit which kept cons calm while waiting transfer. The unit that I was transferred to was part of the hospital unit. One wing of it was set aside for special protective custody cases. It was those who had to be protected even from protective custody inmates that ended up here. The cells were tiny, but at least they were singles. I wondered for a while why I was given a single cell when the prison was said to be so over crowded. It wasn't for a few days longer that I finally realized the reason. The first two days in "seg" were hell. At least in the new man's tier I was able to be out in a dorm setting, even though I did not wander around much. In the seg unit, however, I was confined to a small cell only a bit bigger than the closets in my old house. I could only pace so far in such a small area, and with the exception of simple exercises, I was at a loss as to what to do with my time. I laid, most of the time, on my bunk listening to the sounds of the unit. Every once in a while moans or screams would float in from the regular hospital unit. A few of the cons on the unit would talk back and forth to each other, but when it got too noisy a guard would appear, and all would grow quiet again. Some of the cons would sing softly if no one yelled at them to shut up. I was amazed at how young and soft some of the voices sounded. It reminded me of the church choir. Shortly before dinner was served my first night, a voice called out to me from the cell next to mine. I was in the first cell on the beginning of the tier, so it did not take much imagination to know where the voice was coming from. I answered his call of "Hey you, next door," when I was sure that he was talking to me. I held my breath after answering him, wondering what new abuse he could come up with. He only asked me a question. He wondered if I had any matches. I vaguely remember that I had been given a book of matches and a pouch of tobacco with some cigarette papers when I was processed into the prison. Even tough I did not smoke, I decided to take it. I had heard all of the stories, and had watched all of the movies. Tobacco was money behind the walls. I told the voice next to me to wait while I looked for the matches. I found them after a few minutes. When I went to hand them to him, he told me to take a few out of the book and give them to him, and to keep the rest for myself. I did what he requested, and reached my hand out of the bars to hand them over to him. After some practice I felt my hand touching his. I carefully placed the matches in his hand. When I went to pull my arm back into the cell, however, I felt him grab onto my wrist and pull. I panicked when he did this. I struggled against him. He released me after a minute or so, and all was quiet for a few minutes. I listened carefully, trying to figure out why he had done that to me, besides the obvious, that he had tried to break my arm. After a few minutes I heard him call out again. I moved close to the bars, wondering what he had planned next. I could tell that he was leaning close to his bars as well. Softly, in a gentle voice he told me that he had not been trying to hurt me. He told me that what he had done was part of a lesson that I had to learn fast behind the walls. He told me never to reach out of the cell unless I was sure that no one was around who could grab onto my arm. He said that one push into the bars and an arm could be broken. He told me that I should only pass things to people that I knew well, and then to hand them off and move away as fast as possible. He told me never to lie or sleep with my head close to the bars. He told me that if I did that, it would make an easy target for anyone who wanted to bang me on he head. He also told me that no matter how hot it was in the cell, I should always sleep with my blanket close by, or on me. A LESSON FROM LIFE ACT TWO He told me how trusties would sneak up and through pails of water, sometimes hot into cells, or worse yet, cups of piss or worse. With the blanket, he told me, I could save from being injured or covered in piss. Whereas I had thought that my spirits would raise when I finally found someone to talk with, the opposite occurred. The more that he talked, the more depressed I became. The con's final instruction was to check all food that was delivered to my cell for signs of tampering. He told the stories of trusties spitting into the food, of ground glass or chemicals being mixed in with the food, and all of those wonderful tales. When chow finally arrived that night, I was almost too scared to eat it. As I ate, I carefully probed every mouthful, least I find something which didn't belong there. Later that night the con called out once more. We talked about this and that for about ten minutes before we both finally fell silent. Even though the guy had tried to break my arm, I was beginning to like him. He had given me valuable lessons and information on how to survive behind the walls. The next afternoon a fairly kind guard appeared on the block. He opened a few cells and called out the inmates to clean the unit. My body stiffened when several inmates walked by my cell carrying mops, brooms, and buckets, however, short of glancing in to see the new guy, they did nothing to bother me. About an hour after the cleaning crew was banished to their cells, the guard reappeared and opened the cell door next to me. He announced to the con that he was to take his shower. The guard stood there for a few minutes as the con got ready and then walked down the tier for the shower. I was wondering if I would get a chance to look at him when he came back. After my neighbor walked down the tier, I moved towards the door and asked the guard if I would be able to shower as well. He looked at me for a moment, and then glanced down at his clipboard. He shook his head no, and told me that perhaps I could have one the next day. After about ten minutes I heard the shower go off, and a few minutes later I heard my neighbor walking back down the tier. He obviously stopped by a few cells on the way, but soon he was standing in front of my door. When I raised my head up from the bunk and looked at him I was shocked. He was no more than a boy. When he saw that I was looking at him he smiled. Without any hesitation or inhibition he opened his towel wide and exposed his hard-on for me to see. I was shocked that this boy would do this, especially to a stranger. As much as I didn't want to look, I noticed how young and soft he was. He had no body hair short of a small, neat patch above his penis. His hard-on, while impressive to me, was no more than four inches long. While I watched he began to wiggle his erection back and forth between the bars. When I made no move towards him, he moved closer, sticking his weapon deeper into my cell, and told me that I had better hurry before the guard came back. Just when I was about to ask him what he meant, the outer door clanged, signaling that the guard was on his way in. The boy disappeared from the front of my cell, and I heard him enter into his. The guard appeared a few minutes later and locked him in, opening another cell further down the line to let the next con out. I laid there thinking about what had taken place with my neighbor. Although I had an idea of what he had wanted, I was not really sure. In the middle of my deep thoughts about what he had wanted, I heard him call to me. Moving close to the bars, we began to whisper just loud enough to hear each other. He told me that I blew it, and then laughed at his own joke. He told me that when he had a chance to come to the cell, I had to be fast before the guard came. He also told me that when it was my turn to shower, I had to get to his cell fast afterwards so that he could "do" me before the guard came to lock me in. It was becoming clearer. I had been right. Sex was on the boy's mind. I decided to play innocent, and asked him what he meant. I heard him groan and then giggle, and he replied, "You know. You take care of me, and I will take care of you." When I asked him how we would take care of each other, figuring that he meant giving hand-jobs to one another, he sighed telling me that I could not be that dumb. Deciding that I might just be that dumb, he elaborated. "When I come to your cell you do me. You know, like blow me. When you come to my cell, I'll blow you too." I stood in silence taking in what the boy had said. I had not sucked another male's dick since I was eleven. That time it had been with my best friend. We decided that sucking each other felt much better than jacking off. It was a childhood thing which had occurred from the time that I was about six or seven until I had just turned twelve and began to ejaculate. After that I had never had anything to do sexually with other males until that boy stood out in front of my cell asking me to blow him. My silence must have bothered the boy, because he asked me if I were still there. I replied that I was. In the next breath I asked him how old he was. He had looked very young when he stood in front of my cell naked and hard. I could not even begin to guess at his age. I thought that if he were in that place, he had to be at least eighteen. When he told me that he had just turned sixteen, I was stunned. I did not know what to say. I had heard from others that asking someone about their crime was taboo behind the walls, and so I refrained from asking. The boy was the only person that I had talked with since I arrived, and I didn't want to blow that. I laughed to myself at my own joke. Things went quiet for a while. I heard the boy lay down on his bunk, and I wondered if I had hurt his feelings somehow. I wanted to call out to him, however, I decided that I would wait for him. I wanted friendship badly, and the cute young boy appealed to me in a big brother-kind of way, however, I was sure that I could not have the type of friendship that he wanted. Long after dinner the boy remained silent. After the guards had made their early evening rounds, and the block was beginning to quiet down, I heard him call out to me. Moving closer to the bars, I listened for his whisper. "What's the matter," he asked, "am I too ugly?" I could hear the hurt in his voice. He had been rejected, and it seemed as if he were not use to rejection. I told him that he was far from ugly. "Am I too old? Do you just like little boys?" his wounded voice asked. At first I thought that he was being cruel, but I soon realized that he was asking an honest question, no malice was intended by him. I told the boy that I didn't like little boys, and that I didn't "do it" with boys at all. The boy was silent for a few more minutes before he responded. "You don't have to lie to me. I want to be your friend. I will be your boy." After a few more moments of silence, he blurted out what was on his mind. " I know what you are in for. We all heard the guards talking. You were busted for fucking little boys. In this block it ain't no big deal. There are four other guys here for boys." I stood quietly for a few minutes taking in what he had said. I almost laughed out loud. Either someone had their wires crossed, or they had heard wrong. I was in for having sex with little girls not boys. I wondered how that mistake had been made. "I won't say anything to anybody. I don't have anybody here or outside. I will be your boy. I'll do anything for you." I heard the boy's voice crack when he said that, and I could tell that he was close to tears if he was not already crying. A LESSON FROM LIFE ACT THREE Going against my better judgment, and against the advice of my lawyer, I leaned closer to the bars and began to talk to the boy. " I am not in here for boys. Someone must have heard wrong. I am in here for little girls. I haven't done it with a boy since I was eleven." "Girls?" was the boy's only answer to my revealing myself to him. "Girls!" I heard him mutter to himself, and then I heard that laugh which I was growing to love. "Shit. No wonder you stood there with your jaw hanging when I flashed my dick at you. I thought I was too old for you. I was gonna shave off my dick hair tonight for you so that I would look like a little boy again." Not being able to help it, I began laughing. The boy stood silent for a minute or so, but then joined in on the laughter. "Shit. I would have been teased to death if I shaved my hair and then the guys found out that you liked little girls. They'd ask me if I were gonna cut my dick off for you too." That sent both of us off in a fit of laughter once again. I could not believe that I was laughing. I had not laughed for six months, and here a sixteen-year-old boy in the middle of prison, who wanted to be my lover had made me laugh. If the boy had been in front of my cell at that minute, I would have hugged him, and probably kissed him. I sat back wondering what I was thinking, when I thought that if he had been my cell mate I would probably be blowing him right then. I shuddered at that thought. It brought up a lot of old feelings, feelings from the time that I was little and sucked my first boy dick. I had never had those feelings since then. It has always been the pussy's of little girls that invaded my thoughts and dreams. I remembered back to the time that I had been hiking in the woods. I had heard some commotion off in the distance, and quietly headed off to see what was going on. As I approached I was stunned. There, about ten minutes away from civilization was a naked boy and girl. The boy looked about eight or nine, the girl a year younger than him. Both children were beautiful, and I stood watching them playing sexually with each other. I caught myself staring at the boy's erection as the little girl's tongue and mouth worked it over, wondering how it would be to have sex with both a girl and a boy at the same time. When the time came, and I approached them, playing the outraged adult, I told the boy to get dressed and sent him on his way. I caught the kids off guard by telling them that I was going to take them to their parents. The boy blurted out that it was the girl's idea, and my opening was at hand. I told him to get dressed and go home, and I would not tell on him. I watched until the boy was far off, and it was obvious that he was not going to be sticking around waiting for the girl. Once he was gone I made my move with the girl. She agreed that in lieu of me telling her parents, she would let me look at her up close naked, and touch her a little. Almost an hour was spent in the woods with the girl, and the looking and touching was expanded into kissing and licking. The girl was hyper-sexual and was far from a virgin. She sucked better than many older girls, and although she had never been fucked by an adult before, she had taken on a few teenagers and with a little effort she turned out to be quite a piece. The little girl had been such an eager little slut, that I did something with her that I normally did not do with the little girls, I fucked her in her ass as well. I was not too surprised to find that she was not a virgin there either. As I fucked deep into her fairly tight little bottom, I thought about the boy, wondering how his bottom would have felt. It was the only time that I had thought about fucking a boy up to that moment. I sat there wondering what would have happened if I had the boy stay as well. I wondered if he would have played around as well, and if he would have let me into his bottom. I was awakened from my fantasy by the whispering from the boy again. He told me that he understood, and that if I decided that I wanted a boy while in the joint, he would be mine. He also told me that if I didn't want to blow him that would be all right, he would blow me with no problems. I was stunned. I could not figure the boy out. Was he so lonely that he would offer himself for any friendship? He did not look or sound gay, or at least feminine, however, he went on and on like a lot of the young sissy boys that he had run across in his time. This boy seemed like the all-American boy next door. Coming to a decision, I told the boy to move as close to the bars as possible. I listened as he scurried to comply. He whispered that he was there. Breaking the rule that he taught me, I reached over and felt for him. With a little time and difficulty I finally touched his body. I was not sure what part of him it was at first, but I finally decided that it was his stomach. Not being able to reach any further, I told him to move himself up a bit. The boy moved quickly, sensing what I was trying to do. When my fingers touched his underpants, I felt them move, and the next minute my fingers were touching his naked penis. As he was when he stood in front of my cell, he was hard. I managed to get a few finger grip on his penis, and I gently squeezed him. The boy thrust himself upwards a bit more, and I was able to cover the head of his penis with my fingers. Knowing that neither of us could remain like that for long, I began stroking him as best as I could. It took only a minute for him to tense up. I felt his penis begin to throb, and then felt my fingers become wet as he shot his load from his body. Glancing out on the floor, I grimaced. The boy had shot long and hard. There was a small puddle of his cum on the floor, from about a foot out moving inwards. When the boy calmed down, I told him to look. He mumbled an obscenity under his breath and then reached his towel out through the bars to clean up before the guard saw it. Just when I was heading towards the sink to wash his cum from my hand, I heard him call out to me. Moving back to the bars, I listened. He asked me not to wash it off, and to use it on my dick to jack off. What he was asking me to do was kinky, but somehow it kind of appealed to me. It was his next request that sent me over the edge. I "chubbed" up shamelessly. He asked me to jack off onto a piece of paper or something and then pass it over to him through the bars. His request was not only kinky, it was child-like, but it was that which appealed to me so much. Suddenly that young boy next door to me was transformed into one of my several boyhood friends with whom I played sexually. I managed to rummage up a piece of paper which could be passed to him, and with little effort I drenched the paper with my cum. It had been quite a while since I had last cum, and so a lot was stored up. Several seconds after I passed the cum drenched paper over to him, thinking that he was going to use my cum as lubrication to jack off again, I heard a slurping sound and an exaggerated swallowing. This produced several chuckles from others on the tier, as well as a few squeaks being produced from beds, others obviously enjoying the entertainment immensely. The boy moved back to the bars and whispered his bedtime comment. "Tomorrow I will get it directly from you, Okay?" he asked pleadingly. Without much hesitation I replied "Yeah." I could sense is smile through the wall as he slipped into his bed. About five more minutes passed before I heard him whispering again. I got back out of bed and went to the bars. "Hey, what's your name?" he asked, adding his boyish giggle. "Tony. What's yours?" "Mark" "Good night Mark." "Good night Tony." A LESSON FROM LIFE ACT FOUR Stumbling back into my bed, I smiled, happy that I made the boy's life a little happier. I wondered what the boy's story was, hoping that I would have a chance to find out. A few minutes later I was blushing, pulling the pillow over my face and pulling the covers up to cover the pillow. Outside of a few cons who were still engaged in their acts of solo sex, the tier was quiet. Just when a pin dropping could almost be heard, I heard Mark's voice, in much more than a whisper call out. "I love you Tony." Giggles, a few cat calls, and many more kissing sounds rang out in the night, as I groaned, wondering what I had started. Surprisingly things quieted down rather quickly after Mark's public announcement. I was hoping that the same would be true the next day. I found myself half wanting to have him back in front of my cell so that I could strangle him, however, the other half of me was pleased. I don't know what got into me, but just as things calmed down again, in a voice no lower than Mark's had been, I proclaimed "I love you too Mark." That ended any pretenses of order on the tier. Everyone busted out in laughter, and the jokes flew. Whereas I would have thought that a lot of name calling would have taken place, it seemed that everyone was eager to laugh, and to celebrate the fact that love could take place, even in a hell-hole like that. When he night guard showed up a few minutes later to check on all the laughter, it took close to five minutes for everyone to quiet down again. Lucky for all of us that it was a friendly guard. After walking down the tier in front of everyone's cells, he headed back down towards the exit. Stopping in front of Mark's cell, he asked in a fairly loud voice, "Got a boyfriend, huh, Mark?" That started things off again, but he soon had them quiet again. The guard stopped by my cell and looked in. He motioned me over to the bars and whispered, "I thought you liked little girls?" Not knowing how to respond, I shrugged my shoulders. Looking at me for a few minutes, he said "Be good to him. He's had a rough life." Without further comment he left the cell block. I am not sure if the rest of the block heard the guards comment, but things were quiet after that. The next day after breakfast the tier was unusually quiet. I was not sure if everyone decided to go back to sleep, or if they were waiting patiently for day two of the lover's courtship. I decided that I wanted to talk with Mark privately. The only way to do so was to write notes back and forth, and so I set off writing him a cheerful good morning note. I heard his boyish giggles as he read the note, and then there was silence for a long time after that. I heard something tapping up against my wall. When I moved to the bars, I saw Mark's hand, he had written his reply. I grinned as I opened and then began to read his letter. He had the penmanship of a school boy. I had to stop and think that if he had been on the outside he would have been a school boy. When we were passing back yet another note, suddenly a voice sounded out from down the tier. "Shit. They're passing notes," and then he laughed. A few minutes of chaos occurred, but quickly quieted down. Now that they realized that they would not be able to sit back and listen to the lovers court, the tier came alive as it normally was. Mark and I continued to pass our notes back and forth, oblivious to the ongoings on the tier. After about the tenth note, Mark wrote that he wanted to write something long for me, and that it would take a while to complete. I laid back and waited for him to finish his letter, and I thought about what I would do if it were my turn to get out for a shower. I knew that Mark expected me to stop by his cell. I also knew that the rest of the tier expected it as well. Mark and I had proclaimed our love for each other the previous night, and now it had to unfold. I wondered if when the time came, I would be able to respond to him as he obviously expected me to respond. After about a half hour I was wondering what Mark was up to, when all of a sudden I heard his pen clank up against the wall. I reached out and took the papers from him. I could not believe what the boy had handed me. There before me, in his small, neat handwriting were four pages, double sided. I sat down on my bunk and began to read, wondering what the boy was about to reveal to me. I was hoping to hear his story, and perhaps that would occur. My body stiffened as I began to read Mark's letter. I was not sure if I wanted to know what he was about to tell me: Dear Tony, I am really happy to have you as my friend. Last night when you said that you loved me, I cried all night I was so happy. I have been so scared here, and no one wants to be my friend. They all think that I am nuts. I decided that before they tell you stories, or before you hear them from someone else, I will tell you. I am really scared that after I tell you this you will not want to be my friend, and that you will be like the rest. I really DO love you Tony, and I hope that you will still like me, and maybe love me. If you don't want to be my friend, I will understand. I will still suck your dick if you want me to, even if you don't want me as your friend and boy. If we ever get a chance, and you want to, I will let you fuck me too. Here goes. Please read all of this without stopping, no matter what you think. I am not crazy Tony. Really I am not. I got life for killing a man and a boy. They said that I stabbed the man about 200 times, and that I cut his dick off. They said that I fucked the kid for hours after I killed the man and then I cut his throat and stabbed him all over, and then cut his dick off too. They said that when they found me I was covered with blood, and that the boy's dick was in my pocket. I guess that I really did go nuts for a while then, because I don't remember doing those things. I got life for each of their murders, and I will probably never get parole. They sent me to a mental hospital for about a year, and then here when the hospital said that I was not crazy. Since I got here the story got out and nobody talks to me much. They joke once in a while, but they are afraid that I will go crazy on them too. When I was really little, like about four, my mom and dad split up. After a while my mom started dating again. When she would go out she would hire a baby-sitter for me. For a while things were OK, until she hired a boy who lived in the neighborhood. She got him because he would sit for me cheap, and because his parents didn't care if he stayed out late, or stayed out over night. At first he was real nice to me, although he always wanted to give me a bath, or have me run around the house naked. Finally one night after he gave me a bath, he took me into my bedroom. Instead of putting on underpants as he did sometimes, he picked me up and laid me down on he bed. He started to take his clothes off too. He told me that we were going to play a game, and that I would like it. At first it was fun. He tickled me and played with my dick, and it felt good. He let me play with his too. I remember that it was big, and that he had hair on it like my dad did. He didn't waste any time in sucking my dick. He did it for about a half hour total, until I told him that it hurt. He then pulled me on top of him and told me to wiggle around. After we did that for a while, he rolled me over onto my stomach and licked my butt hole. I laughed because it tickled. He then got on top of me and put his dick between my legs. He began fucking me between my legs, and didn't stop until he came between them. A LESSON FROM LIFE ACT FIVE After he cleaned me up, he put on my underpants and told me not to tell anyone or we would not be able to play together again. I told him that I wouldn't tell, and I didn't. Later when I was in bed, he came back into my room, and took my underpants off and fucked me between my legs again. I kind of remember that he did it a couple of more times that night as well. The next time that he sat, as soon a mom left the house, he took me upstairs and undressed me. He got undressed too. He started to lick and suck me all over, and then he sucked my dick again for a long time. When my dick hurt he stopped and he pulled me on top of him and told me to rub around. While I rubbed, he started kissing my face, and then on my mouth. He told me to kiss him back and I did. He then taught me how to tongue kiss, and we did that for a while. He showed me how to play with his dick, and he taught me how to jack him and myself off. I jacked him off for a while, and then he asked me to kiss his dick. It took him a while to convince me, but I finally did it. After a while he also convinced me to lick it all over, and once I did that he taught me how to suck. That was the first time that I tasted cum. I thought that he peed in my mouth, and I tried to spit it out, but he held his dick in my mouth and made me swallow it. He told me later that I would get big like him, and have a big dick if I sucked him and swallowed his cum. I was little and stupid, and I believed him. I sucked him off two more times that night, and about a million times every time he sat for me after that. One night he came to baby-sit me when my mother was going to be out all night. He was especially excited when he arrived. He told me that we would have a lot of fun, and that he could sleep naked together. Almost as soon as mom was gone he got us both naked and we were fooling around. He had not been there even an hour, and I had already drank two of his loads of cum. While we rested, he carried me to the bathroom and we took a bath together. Afterwards we went downstairs naked and watched TV. He went into the kitchen for a minute, and when he came back he had a beer in his hands. He told me if I were good, I could drink beer with him. He gave me a taste, and I didn't like it much, but he kept telling me that it would make me a big boy. It didn't take long before I was half drunk. He carried me back upstairs to the bedroom and laid me on the bed. He went into the bathroom for a few minutes and then came back. He was carrying something with him. He started playing with me again, and then sucked me off. When he was finished he rolled me onto my stomach and started licking my butt hole again. He licked it for a long time, and then he started sticking his finger inside. I told him that it hurt, and he stopped. He reached over, opened a jar, and spread some lotion on my butt, and then on his hand. He told me to keep quiet, and to relax my butt muscles. I did what he told me, and he started sticking his finger into my butt. It hurt, and I told him so. He told me not to be a sissy, that all big boys did it, and that if I wanted to be a big boy I had to do it too. I laid still while he poked his finger up in my butt. It hurt like hell, but I didn't want to be a sissy. I had no idea what being a sissy was, but it didn't sound good. I wanted to be a big boy. After a while he must have been satisfied that I loosened my butt, because he pulled his finger out. My head was spinning, and I was groggy, but I remember that he started rubbing some of the lotion on his dick. He told me that he was going to put his dick in my butt like he did his finger. He told me to be a big boy and keep my butt relaxed. He told me that I could do it to his butt afterwards. I cried out when his dick slid into my butt. It must have scared him, because he pulled out again. He put his finger back inside me for a while, and then tried his dick again. I cried out again after he pushed in a little more, and out he came. Eventually he must have become so horny that he could not take it, because he got on top of me, put his dick up against my butt hole, and then put his hands over my mouth. He started pushing inside of me, stopping my screaming with his hands. It hurt like hell as he pushed his dick inside of me. I cried and fought against him, but he was too big, strong, and heavy. He kept his grip on my mouth, and continued pushing his dick inside of me. Finally he was in all the way, and he laid down on top of me and rested. When he noticed that I had stopped crying, he took his hands off my mouth. I told him that it hurt, and he told me to be a big boy. He told me that all little boys got butt fucked by older boys. When he started humping inside of me, the pain started again, and I started crying and yelling. Once again he held his hands over my mouth while he raped my ass. I must have passed out at the point that he was ramming away inside me, ready to cum, because the next thing I remember was that he had me in the bathtub, and he was washing off my butt. Afterwards he was even more nice to me, and told me that I was now a big boy because I had an older boy fuck me in the butt and I took it like a big boy. He had me laughing and joking, even though my butt still hurt real bad. He was good to his promise, and a while after he laid on his stomach and told me to climb on top of him. He helped me get inside of him, and then instructed me through my first butt fuck. I doubt that he even felt my little dick inside of him, but all through my fuck he told me how big my dick was, and how good I fucked. He kept asking me if it felt good. It did feel good, and I told him so. He told me that it felt that good when he fucked me too. He must have been ready to fuck me again, because out came another beer, and I sipped away until I could not walk. Instead of bringing me to the bedroom, he fucked me on he floor in front of the TV. I can remember that it hurt, but I was too drunk to put up much of a fight that time, or the other times he went inside of me during the night. The next day I woke up with a very sore butt. When I looked at the sheets there was a little blood on them. He took them off and threw them into the washer. He rubbed some cream onto my butt hole, and told me not to tell anyone that he fucked me, or he would tell that I asked him too, and that I sucked his dick. He had me scared, and so I didn't tell my mother, even though my butt hurt real bad for days afterwards, and a little blood kept running out onto my underpants. Each time I noticed it, I washed them off in the sink, scared what would happen if my mother found out. A LESSON FROM LIFE ACT SIX About a week later the baby-sitter was back and he had my ass propped up in the air plowing into it before the car even left the driveway. The more that he fucked me, the sorer that my ass got, until I almost couldn't walk. I started having stomach aches, and diarrhea mixed with a little blood. Eventually I must not have been able to keep up with cleaning up after myself, and my mother noticed the blood. She then noticed that I sat and walked funny. After questioning me over and over, I finally broke down and blurted out what the baby-sitter had been doing to me. Her response was to spank me and to send me to my room as punishment. As I walked away in tears, she told me that I was just like my father, and that I was no good. I did not know then what she was talking about. Eventually my mother got around to talking to the baby- sitter. She called him to sit, and then when he came over she asked him about what I had told her. The boy admitted that he had played with me, but he told her that I had asked him to, and that I had sucked his dick when he was sleeping on the couch. He told my mother that I had asked him to fuck me in the ass, saying that I said that I did it with my friends all he time. My mother called me down and confronted me with the boy's story. I stood quiet, afraid to call him a liar. My mother spanked me again, and then sent me to bed. About a half hour after she left, he came into my room, took off my underpants and spanked me as well. Afterwards he climbed on top of me and fucked me in the ass again. If my mother had not met her current husband, that boy would have fucked me silly for several more years. As time went on, my mother started to be slow in paying him. He did not complain. It seemed that a silent agreement had been reached between them. He baby-sat in return for being able to fuck me. My mother started staying home more with her new boyfriend, and so the sitter was less and less. One night when they were both drunk, and I came into the living room naked looking for my pajamas, my mother yelled at me and told me to stop running around naked. Afterwards she told my stepfather about what had happened between me and the baby-sitter. She told him, of course, his version, which made me out to be a little fag looking for dick. As the night went on, they got drunker. When they ended up in bed, the subject of me came up again, and my step father told her to bring me into the bed with them so he could see my faggot shit. He must have convinced her, because I was picked up and carried into their room. I woke up as I was laid onto the bed. Her boy friend took off my pajamas and told me to play with myself like the little fag that I was. I cried and said that I didn't want to and he hit me, so I started jacking off. Eventually he had me play with his dick, and then suck him. Before the night was over, he was stuffing his dick up my ass, and I was sore and crying again. After I was sent back to my room, and my mother went to sleep, or passed out, he came into my room again, and fucked me two more times before he staggered back to the bedroom to pass out. That started an almost daily thing for him. He would come into my room, unannounced, take my clothes off, and fuck me in the ass. At night he would come into the room after my mom fell to sleep and he would fuck me silly. When he started to have me suck him off while he watched TV, and then when he would strip me naked and sit me on his lap, his dick in my ass, fucking me while they watched TV, my mother finally became jealous. There was a big fight, and my step father was ousted from the bedroom for the night. He did not seem too upset with that. He came into my room and slept in my room, fucking me whenever he pleased. In the morning I woke up and his dick was still inside of me. My mom decided that I was too much like my dad for her liking and so she sent me off to live with him. It was only after I was living with him for about a week that I began to understand what she was saying. END ACT SIX