Date: Fri, 10 Jul 2020 16:09:18 +0000 From: Strange writer Subject: Michael, So Far While valiantly trying to wrap up five other series, I made the mistake of starting another. Is there such a thing as adult onset ADHD? This is a story about Michael, who wants to share his philosophy concerning male anatomy, and his relationships up to this point in his (short) life. Let me know what you think about the series or anything else at strangestorywriter@protonmail.com. If you like this story, please check out my others: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bisexual/adult-youth/surprise-at-the-pool/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bisexual/incest/shelter-in-place/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/boys-in-the-alley https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/pinehurst-middle-school/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/lil-brian-takes-charge/ Disclaimer: This story involves sex between adults and children. Everything that follows is completely made up by me and is 100% fiction. All characters are figments of my imagination, they are not based on real people. Real children do not act this way. If you are not allowed to read this type of story in any way, or are unable to separate fact from fiction, please stop reading. If you enjoy the Nifty archive as much as I do, please consider donating to keep it alive and thriving at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. Best- Strange Writer Michael, So Far About Me Hi, my name is Michael (not Mike!), I'm finishing up eighth grade (High School baby!) and the reason that I'm writing on this adult website is this: I LOVE penises. It's that simple. I don't remember a time that I wasn't interested in my own and curious about others. I've been sexually active since elementary school, but I'm never really satisfied. I like big penises, small penises, and average ones too. They all have their pluses and minuses. I also like old man penises, young boy penises, and every aged penis in between. Lucky for me, I've tried them all. What do I like so much about them? When I get ahold of a nice big cock, that's fully hard in honor of me, I'm mesmerized by it. The shape is beautiful, the long shaft with the spongy head and flap-covered slit in the tip. I like to take the whole thing in my hand and lay it against my cheek, feeling the warmth and unyielding strength of the engorged organ. Then, and this is a little weird, I bring the tip to my nose and inhale, smelling the head. This is such a turn-on for me because they all smell a little different. I believe that they give off some sort of sex chemical, but nobody knows because they don't take the time to stop and smell the penises once in a while. After that, I rub the glans (big word right?) across my lips with them closed, feeling that squishy texture of the tip, and if I'm lucky, smearing some slick precum across my mouth before parting my lips, sticking out my tongue, and pressing that flap of skin aside in order to dig into the pee hole for some sort of offering. Hopefully there is some nice sweet emission there, then I'll lick around the whole head of the cock, sometimes even doing a little scrape with my teeth for variety. Then I like to take the shaft in my hand, hold it steady while I lick repeatedly from base to tip. When I get to the base I like to push my tongue into their ballsack before I take another long leisurely lap up and down that big cock again. Once I'm back down at the root, I finally give the scrotum some attention. I have no preference for how I like my balls, I like differences though, so if I had shaved one day, I might prefer natural the next. The same is true of loose versus tight, hairless little boys versus hairy old men, I'll take them all. I love to hold each testicle in my mouth and roll it around, feeling the different textures of the sack vs the ball etc. Once bathed properly, I never mind taking a trip over the taint. This no man's land can send many a man over the edge when combined with a stroking hand. If you want to really feel a man orgasm, just once you should try pressing your tongue right here below the balls but short of the hole. The pumping of that nice hot load starts right here, and to feel those contractions pumping like a factory to work that load to the surface while the man moans and screams as he shoots out his delicious cream is such satisfaction, and knowledge that it was a job well done. Then last, but definitely not least, we arrive at the deepest darkest place, the man's stinky asshole. Now, there aren't a ton of kids my age who even think about going near that thing, and of the few who understand the possibility, it's an even smaller group who will actually dive right in and taste the wrinkled eye. Me, you ask? You probably guessed it, I'm part of that exclusive group of kids who will happily grab a cheek in each hand, spread them open and plunge right in. How do I go about licking a man's shit hole? A very successful teacher that I had when I was just a precocious ten year old gave me the best advice: pretend like you're making out with the anus (Haha, I love the real words, they sound even dirtier now that everybody swears all of the time). For me, it doesn't taste bad, sometimes it smells a little (but that makes it seem dirtier in a good way), and like the man's cock, I like the different textures; the ring of the hole, the squishiness if you can get your tongue inside. Plus, the men go berserk. They kick and scream and howl about having their butthole licked. Too bad more kids aren't into it. So here's something to address before we move on; when you lick a guys hole, he's likely to let something else go in there. You may have guessed that I'm good at taking it in my hole (we'll get to that later), but that doesn't mean that I don't like giving it to someone else too. So if that pleasure requires a little oral prep, I'm good with that exchange. When that star opens up to surround your dick with its tight sheath, there's nothing better. Let's move back around to the front, now we're ready for some business, lots of tongue, lots of head bobbing and lots of stroking, because in the end, that's what's gonna set him off. Now I like to vary speeds and intensity, but if time is of the essence, I can bring that nice feeling about in just a couple of minutes. I'm not bad looking, so imagine someone with my experience, my pretty blue eyes and my little body bobbing up and down on your big schlong while I stare right into your eyes. How long would you last? That's what I thought. Now that brings us to the last area that I want to cover concerning boy mouth on man body/parts. We're skipping things that I'm not interested (toes! Gross!) so that leaves us with the big finale, the icing on the cake (pun intended): the cumshot. As you know, there are several options here; on the face, on the body, in the mouth but spit, and in the mouth and swallow. I'll give you one guess which one I like. Wow, you've scored 100% so far, because yes, I love to guzzle it down. It wasn't always that way. As an elementary school kid I didn't love the thick texture and the quantity that made you feel like it would never stop coming. After a few choking, spitting oral sessions, I began to get used to these things, and pretty fast moved on to working out whether I liked the taste or not. Within a year I'd say, I had grown to like the starchy taste and the feeling as it slithered down my throat. I know it was within a year because this all happened with one man who I won't name (*cough, kindly old man next door, cough*) for the sake of privacy. I think that even more than liking the taste and feel, because it's definitely not ice cream and candy, it's more about me knowing that I did something sooooo nice, that he couldn't hold back, and had to shoot that hot load right into me. For me it's the taste and feel of a job well done, as the man loses all control of his bodily functions above me. That's true of wherever he chooses to place his offering, as I've said before, I'm never opposed to taking my medicine rectally. Now you're probably thinking, "I'm bored with all of this `What I like about dick' stuff," and you are about to be rewarded for hanging in there (even though some of you might be hanging in by stroking your cock and tickling your balls), because there is a story here. That story is how I came to have two boyfriends, which is to say, the whole story of my sex life so far. Why two boyfriends? Well, one is a boy, Justin, who is 11, and one is a man, Paul, who is something over 30. After a few years of figuring things out, I now date one man and one boy at all times because they offer such different things. I need a boy to be my friend and the person who I connect to as equals. I need a man to be my protector, to be the one who I run to to have him wrap his arms around me and make me feel safe and warm. Even if that warmth comes from his hot cock stabbing me in the butt! Here's my rules: first they both have to know about the other, and they both have to be fine with it, and second they both have to understand that just because they're my special one, I'm still going to fuck anything that moves, I mean come on! The nice thing with Justin and Paul is that they both fuck each other, so the three of us have sex all of the time. But it's understood that I'm the one that they each prefer. Ok, enough about philosophy, here goes the story, it all started one day... Grandpa Bob My dad wasn't around anymore. I loved him and all, but he treated my mom like shit and honestly wasn't that much better with me. But with me it was ignoring, with mom it was yelling and throwing stuff. It's better now that he's gone. But the funny thing was, as soon as he left, I suddenly found myself in lots of situations where I was alone with men. So if my dad hadn't left, I'd probably be a virgin. So thank god he's gone! The first such instance was with Mr Green next door. We live near LA, and the streets all run up and down hill. Because of that, you walked up to Mr Green's house, and his ranch was on the same plane as our second floor. He was always really nice to me, treated me like a grown-up, so I used to go over to his garage all of the time to just talk. He was widowed and retired, so he had lots of time. He even had me call him Grandpa Bob because he knew that my dad and grandparents weren't around. One time while I was still a little kid in elementary school, the chain on my bike got stuck and snapped. Had my dad been around he would have dealt with it, but since he wasn't, my mom suggested that I ask that nice Mr Green for help. So I dragged my bike next door and found him already working in the garage. Mr Green was old, probably in his sixties, had half grey-half brown hair. He was good looking, with a strong jawline and kind eyes. He was also in good shape, mainly from the manual labor that he seemed to put in all day every day. As for me, well Mr Green probably saw a very cute 4th grader, with brown hair, blue eyes, and a slim build. I spent all of my time running around and didn't have the patience to eat, so gaining weight was more of a goal than a problem. I still remember that day I was wearing a Magic Mountain t-shirt and my usual athletic shorts. If it didn't have an elastic waistband it meant that I was dressing up, not a favorite activity. I also remember what Grandpa Bob was wearing, a white undershirt and plaid shorts with a zipper. If I close my eyes I can still see him, standing in the door of the open garage, waving to me and smiling at me, neither of us knowing that within 30 minutes he would have changed my life forever. "Hi Michael," he greeted me, "hows it going buddy? What's wrong with your bike?" he asked, noticing that my wheels weren't moving as I worked to drag the bike to him. "Something broke, the chain thingy, my mom thought that you might know what to do," I explained. "Ok, let's take a look," he said, "oh yeah, you actually broke the chain, and the rest of it is jammed in your gears, that's why nothing's moving," he showed me where the chain was hanging loose, "there's ways to fix the chain, but it's a pain and a new one isn't that expensive. We'll get this one off and then we can head to the bike shop for a new one." He started to work on freeing the chain, but it was completely jammed into the bottom of the chainring, so he had to lay down on his back to take a look. Grandpa Bob had his knees bent and his feet flat in the ground, and I got down on my hands and knees at his feet to try to see what he was doing. For some reason I glanced down at his legs, and was shocked and excited to see that the legs of his shorts had opened enough for me to see straight up them. His lower body was in the sunlight coming through the garage door, so the sun shone right up his pant leg and illuminated, right in front of me, his uncovered right testicle. It took a few seconds for me to take things in and realize what I was seeing: first recognizing that I was seeing his ball hanging there in his hairy sack, then realizing that I was seeing this because he wasn't wearing underwear, and last, the shocking realization that poking out of the dark was the soft one-eyed snake of his dickhead. I gasped at the sight, but my eyes were glued in place, taking in the forbidden view. Suddenly the man's penis moved, sliding across his sack before twisting upwards and out of sight. As I've told you already, I was always fascinated by dicks, so I had the expected reaction as my little 2 inch penis sprang up against my undies. While I was adjusting myself it slowly began to seep into my brain that the noise from the bike had stopped. I looked up and found that Grandpa Bob was staring right into my eyes, obviously seeing where I was looking while also seeing me hold my own junk between my fingers. "See something that you like?" he said with a smile, breaking the silence. "Um, um, um, I was just um," I sputtered. Grandpa Bob laughed, then said, "It's ok if you like to look, I like to look too. I got excited when I saw you looking, you even gave me a boner," he whispered, and pressed his shorts against his body, showing me the outline of his hard cock, "do you want to see?" I hadn't found my voice yet, so I just nodded, wanting so badly to see what what hidden inside those shorts. "Let's go inside for a second," he said while getting up and helping me to my feet. We walked through the door into the house. I trusted Grandpa Bob, but had butterflies in y stomach and a tingling in my penis I was so excited. Instead of going all of the way into the house, he turned immediately to the right as soon as we were inside the door and into his small laundry room. He walked half of the way into the room before turning back to me and standing with his hands on his hips, his erection clearly pressing against the single thin layer of fabric. We stood like this for several long moments, before he said calmly, "If you want to see it, you have to take it out." Now let me press pause for a second: what a perv, right? Like he could totally just whip it out like any other deviant, but no, he makes me do it. How dirty do you think that feels to him? And I know, if you asked him, he did it to make sure that it was what I wanted, but really, would you rather pull your pants down in front of a nervous kid 5 feet away, or have those little hands work your zipper and spread the fly to reveal your mass of pubic hair before reaching in and pulling your big cock out? Me too. Back to the story: I was surprised, I hadn't expected this, but it sure wasn't going to stop me and I closed the distance between us and reached out to unbutton his shorts. "Kneel down," he suggested when the angle was weird for me. His dick was trapped upwards against his body, so rather than being hidden when I started lowering the zipper, I was immediately treated to the sight of the glistening head a mere inches from my eyes and more and more shaft as I lowered the zipper to the bottom. When the zipper was far enough down, his erection fell forward and pointed right at me, I was mesmerized by the twitching head as it bounced in front of me. I held the fly of his shorts wide open to so that I could see as much as possible, but had yet to make contact with the giant organ in front of me. "Pull then all of the way down," he said gently, and I looked up into his eyes. He was so calm, it made me relax, and he put his hand gently on the side of my face. As he suggested, I pulled his shorts down far enough that they fell down to his ankles, his penis and sack sitting exposed in front of me. "What do you think?" he asked. How to explain how I felt? Captivated? Longed for? In love? I settled for, "It's big." "It's average, buddy," he told me, "you'll be this big too one day." (I'm still waiting for that, but thats beside them point) Then he threw out the obvious next step: "Do you want to touch it?" Did I want to touch it? Does the pope wear a funny hat? It was like a spring was attached to my hand as it reached out immediately upon gaining permission and wrapped itself around the thick (to me at least) shaft. The first thing that I noticed was how warm it felt. I didn't know enough to start stroking, so I just held it, looking at the head mostly, amazed at how huge it looked and at the drop of clear stuff at the tip. I knew about sex a little, I knew that it wasn't pee that I was seeing, I knew, kind of, how babies were made (gross, putting it in a girls hairy vagina!), and therefore knew the idea of cum. I knew that when a man has a boner he can't pee, so this had to be cum. "Rub your hand up and down," he told me, so I started to move my hand, "Like this?" I asked as I held in tight and jerked hard up and down as fast as I could. "Yes, but more gently," he told me, "yeah, like that," he said when I slowed down, "oh, Michael, that feels sooo good buddy," he groaned, "keep stroking me baby." I was hard as a rock as I pulled the skin of his cock back and forth, watching the head as every few strokes a little more of that clear fluid would seep out. As if reading my mind, Grandpa Bob said, "That's precum, do you know what cum is?" I had heard the older kids use that dirty word, "It's sperm, right?" "Pretty much, we can talk about it later, but that is precum, it comes out because I like you and what you're doing feels good, it means that pretty soon you'll get the real cum." "That's the white stuff, right?" I asked. "It is, have you ever seen it?" I shook my head "no", "Would you like to see it?" he asked. I nodded my heard "yes". "Then keep doing what you're doing and you'll see it in no time. You know what would make me cum faster? If I could see your pretty little pecker," he told me. It took me a second to figure out what he meant, but then I got it and took my hand away from his cock in order to stand up and pull my shorts down, which I did in one swift motion, my 2-3 inch penis standing so hard it looked like it may snap off if you pulled it down. Mr Green reached down and took my tiny spike between his thumb and index finger and rubbed it up and down, sending shivers up my spine. "You do it to me too," he said and I reached over and took his cock in my small hand and resumed jerking him off. After a few minutes, he let go of my cock and placed his hand over mine, lifting it off of his shaft and bringing it down to his hanging sack, "Rub my balls sweetly, it feels so good," he encouraged me and I did as I was told, rubbing at first, but then caressed each testicle separately, stroking over it and pulling on it gently to get the full stretch of his loose sack which caused him to moan, something that I was quickly becoming addicted to. I felt myself wanting to do things to make him moan. It was because of these feelings that I was a sucker when he asked, "Do you want to do something to make me feel really good?" while he was stroking his big dick, running his palm over the tip to collect precum then spreading it down the length over and over as I incorporated both hands into fondling his balls, alternately weighing them, caressing them and inspecting them. "Sure, what's that," I answered his request. You get three guesses but the first two don't count on what he asked me to do. Made up your mind? Here's what he said: "Take your tongue and lick the end of my penis," he told me (complete shocker, right?), "it would feel so good and I'll cum really soon, that is if you still want to see my cum," he finished with a "I'm only doing this on your account" look. Total pervert, I'm telling ya! But, as you probably know, I took the plunge, staring at that fascinating head with its micro-wrinkles and, probably from the excitement of seeing me inch closer, a nice dollop of clear juice appeared and started to drip out of the peehole which made me pull back slightly. "It's ok," Grandpa Bob said, and wiped up the goo with his index finger, "you don't have to be scared, it tastes good, see?" and he put his finger in his mouth and licked it clean. "Mmmm," he said, only slightly exaggerated, "Go ahead, baby, you'll make Grandpa feel real good, and you'll get to see my white cum come out as your reward," he finished off, already knowing how to push my buttons. There was no question now, I wanted my reward, so I took the shaft in my preteen hand and stretched my tongue as far as it would go until I felt the wet tip of my first cock. Immediately I pulled my tongue back and sampled the viscous fluid, and Grandpa was right, it was good! It was sweet and salty and I wanted more, so I leaned in and licked across the whole head, causing Grandpa Bob to gasp, "Oh, that's so good, taste my dick baby, I'm going to cum for you if you keep doing that," he said, "just keep licking." I did just that, flipping my tongue back and forth over the glans while Grandpa took over jerking his cock. It was hard to keep up with his movements, he kept pulling his dick away from my tongue as he jerked harder and harder, so I did what seemed logical: I grabbed the whole thing with my lips. "Oh god!" he screamed, "yeah cutie, you suck Grandpa's cock sweetie, oh god yes!" and his flailing got faster and more erratic. "I'm close, I'm gonna cum!" he shouted, but I didn't understand the significance, "move back," he said, probably hoping not to scare me off so there would be a second time, "oh yes, here's your reward!" he shouted, then aimed his big penis slightly to the side, but I could see his hole open up and a big glob of jizz exploded from him and splatted down on the floor right next to me. Then it kept coming, with easily five more spurts before a last bit oozed out of the hole and clung to him, not wanting to detach like a blob of spit. He was crying, "Oh, oh, oh!" with each splurt, it was the grossest most exciting thing that I'd ever seen. Mr Green stood with one hand holding on the the washing machine, looking like he would collapse without it, and the other squeezing on his big man's dick. I looked up into his eyes and saw how happy he was and thought, "I can't wait to do that again!"