Date: Thu, 10 Nov 2011 13:33:12 -0600
From: michaelpete@hushmail.com
Subject: Promiscuity and Purpose #3

Be advised that in the following one will find graphic sexual depiction
between minors and minors and adults. The story is fiction but based on
real characters, events, places and situations. There is no relationship
between the names used and that of any real person. Send comments to
michaelpete@hushmail.com.

Michael Peterson

CHAPTER III

GROWING PANGS

	Even though my sex life was quite satisfying, concern about my
actual sexual orientation was increasing. When, in eighth grade, our dicks
and balls got larger and hair started to grow around them, I'd half
expected to develop an interest in girls. It wasn't happening. I was still
enamored with Timmy and Billy and still looking low, down the row of boys
at the school urinal. It seemed certain that if Timmy and Billy hadn't been
around, I'd have been seeking other boys, not girls, for sex, especially
with Ned becoming physically so uninteresting. The explorative incident
with Patty years before had been a fluke.

	Then, Billy decided Ned's big dong was too painful and stopped
accepting either of us inside his body. That wasn't as difficult for me as
for Ned. Sucking Billy's cock, licking inside his legs and rimming him
while my hands caressed his smooth flesh was still very gratifying. Ned
liked to fuck a plump ass, something Timmy, who amazingly enough could
still take Ned's six inches full inside himself, definitely didn't
have. Billy made it clear that Timmy's was okay but our little country boy
was quite content to only screw Ned and me. By ten, hard, he had edged past
four inches in length. Often, after a bath or sex, he'd hang around,
unabashedly nude, doing his homework or lying on the bed with a comic
book. Just as often, I'd sit and stare for the longest time at that
glorious, long penis nestled between his tough little thighs or hanging off
to one side. Even though I'd cum shortly before, occasionally the draw was
strong enough that I'd slip in and suck him off again. He never seemed to
mind, wrapping his legs around me and holding on to my head as he
approached orgasm, staying that way afterwards while I sucked gently and
tongued his balls and down between his legs. If I stayed too long, he'd get
back to his comic book or studies but never pulled away before I did.

	One nice aspect of our progression into adolescence was the flavor
of Ned's initial emissions during sixty-nine sessions. They were actually
tasty, sweet, reducing my despair at the idea of pubic hair which would one
day distort the appearance of Billy Turner's gorgeous groin.

	An interesting sidebar: With Ned or dear Timmy readily available
for sex most days, I became a bit jaded, not as interested at times as my
ten year old lover would have preferred. So, to my surprise one evening,
Timmy hopped across the bed as we completed our homework, undid my fly,
reached inside, pulled out my soft organ and sucked it hard; the first time
his lips had ever touched me there. He'd been permitting some open mouth
kissing, but that had been all. Needless to say, we got it on.

He even swallowed my young sperm commenting afterward that, "It wasn't that
bad." You will note his vastly improved English. Even the accent, sadly,
wasn't as pronounced. Once he'd recognized the significance of the remarks
about the way he spoke, Timmy had consciously struggled to conform to the
local dialect which wasn't nearly as pleasant.

	Charley Miller, by the way, had for some reason he never adequately
explained, stopped coming around. With Billy and Timmy there for us, the
loss hadn't been that much of a big deal, especially for me, though Ned did
miss his big butt and sought other boys who could handle that baseball bat
of his, finding just one, an obviously gay thirteen year old just entering
puberty. Even though he didn't go to our school, we got him into the house
as a boy needing academic help. Patty always rolled her eyes on seeing him
but said nothing. I screwed him a few times as were, apparently if he was
to be believed, at least a half dozen other boys and one man. We were, at
the time, unaware of venereal diseases or I might have abstained.

	The only downside to Ray, that was his name, was his uncontrolled
habit of moaning or lightly squealing when Ned fucked him. The solution was
to have him suck either me or Timmy at the same time. That reduced the
sound effects to low groans.

	In May of 1944, Ned and I both qualified for the city's top
technical high school. Ned had set being a doctor as his goal in life,
aside, of course, from having lots of boys. I wasn't sure what line of work
to pursue but some kind of construction trade seemed the most interesting.

When September arrived, school was no longer a walk away. We had to get up
forty-five minutes earlier to catch a streetcar. Since the final bell each
day was at two-thirty, we could usually be home by three or three
fifteen. Timmy would beat us there and be sprawled across my bed doing
homework; something high school had a lot more of than grade school.

	By the time Ned turned fourteen on November twentieth, he was going
out with girls, even screwing one as well as Timmy, Ray, and Billy Turner,
though only between Billy's smooth hairless thighs rather than his too
tight anus.  I was convinced I was, as a matter of fact, different; a homo,
a fag. The questions in my mind were why and was there a way out. Was there
a cure?

Ned, the future M.D, thought I was acting nuts. "Is Billy a fag?"

"I don't know."

"Yes you do and he isn't. What about Timmy or Charlie, or Mike? It's just
stuff we do `cause it feels good."

"That's stupid. Then why are we always looking for boys to have sex with?
Who else does that?"

"You sure nobody else does it? Who do we tell? Nobody. So, any other kid
doing it ain't gonna tell nobody neither. An' look how hot you got that
time Patty stuck your finger in her pussy."

That stopped the conversation which logically should have gotten to Judy
Frontberry whom I'd long ago admitted to Ned hadn't done a thing for me,
nor had any other girl. I was, as a matter of fact, far more interested in
boy bodies than girls'.

Ned said quietly, "And so what if we are different. We ain't sissies and we
don't talk like girls. I never heard you talk like one. I don't know."

With no one to ask, it was back to the library, carrying a dictionary,
twice with Patty along. She managed to stay in other sections. Three visits
later, I was nowhere closer to understanding myself but had some ideas
about maybe, possibly why. Supposed cures were out there but none sounded
like anything I wanted to try.

The `why' seemed to center on a boy's relationship with his
parents. Theories revolved around a weak father and a domineering, cold
mother but some had it just the opposite, or so it seemed. Neither case fit
my situation. Both my parents loved me and I loved them, very much. Of that
there was no doubt. Rules of the house were administered by both and had
never seemed unfair or burdensome. There admittedly wasn't much
communication or activity with my dad but that's just the way he was. His
bum leg didn't permit any kind of outdoor activity and baseball wasn't
played indoors, at least back then.

Mother was in charge of the house up to a point but there were times when
Dad had put an end to things she'd tolerated like the nudity on the second
floor once we began entering puberty, or fighting over which radio program
to listen to.

Still, the consensus seemed to be that homosexuality was a condition caused
by some situation during childhood but that it could, under certain
conditions, be reversed. And, homosexuals weren't always identifiable by
their actions, the way they walked or spoke. Some were quite manly. So much
for the sissy theory.

It was time for another discussion with Ned, whose family life had been a
disaster. He'd hardly known his father and didn't much like his mother,
hadn't much lived with her.

"Maybe, since I stay more at your house than mine, the same thing that made
you like this did it to me," he suggested.

	"Nope. They say it happens in early childhood like before you're
six. You didn't start living with us a lot until you were about six."

	"But I was with you a lot." He paused. "Okay, that don't work. What
if we were born like this; you know, inherited it. What about Ray, and that
kid, Walter something, lives over the next block. He's talked like a girl
since he was three, and still does, acts like one too and how old's he now,
ten, eleven? An' I'll bet Squeaky in eighth grade was like he is since he
was little too."

	I'd noticed them too but hadn't thought about it as much as Ned
apparently had. He too had been pondering our orientation dilemma for a
long time, just hadn't admitted it. I wondered how real his attraction to
girls was and asked.

	"Some girls, yeah, depends on what they look like, but a little
like boys I think. Like Shirley, you know, not so big in front, kinda thin,
no, not thin, but, you know, like a boy. I don't know. I ain't really
figured it out yet."

	It had taken him many years to admit that to me, but he did. I
hugged him. He let me.

	Then there was the developing difference in our ages of
interest. While he did enjoy, even promote, Billy's regular appearance in
my bedroom or bathroom and, of course, continued to make use of Timmy's
large orifice, he went after boys I found undesirable due to their stage of
physical development, especially pubic hair. I liked my boys bare down
there. Ned didn't mind fuzz as long as it was just around a boy's cock. For
instance, one day when Timmy was staying with his grandmother, Ned seduced
one of his slower developing high school classmates who, of course, had a
large backside, and used my bedroom, my presence prohibited, to have his
fun.

	His description of what happened that first afternoon went like
this: "First, we just jerked off for a while. His cock's not all that big
yet, smaller'n yours but he's got a fat ass, you know, like Billy's but
bigger mostly `cause he's bigger'n Billy. So, I said we needed something
slippery so we could get off better and he starts spitting in his hand and
I said, `I know where's it slipperier' and he said he wasn't gonna suck me
and I said, `Not there', and he says `Where?" and I said, `in the
back'. So, he says no way I'm gonna fuck him but he's still jerking off so
I said okay, he can do me first but then he's gotta let me do it to him
after. Then, he just looks at me and I knew he was gonna do it `cause he
didn't say nothin'.

"At that point, being the jokester he was, Ned just sat there grinning at
me, waiting for me to ask for more, thinking my dick had to be getting hard
which it wasn't. Anyway, I had to ask.

	"Okay, then what? He fuck you?"

	"Uh huh. He sits there thinking for a long time. We're still
beating off but he's going slower, you know, thinking. Then, he says, `What
if it hurts?' and I say, `It ain't gonna hurt. Your turds are bigger'n my
dick, right?' and he thinks again and says, `Okay but your dick's a lot
bigger'n mine so if I say you gotta stop, you gotta stop, okay?' and I said
okay. So, he puts spit all over his dick. I almost sucked him but that
might've made him stop. Then, I was thinkin' you could come in and do him
but I know you don't like hair and he has hair but not all that much,
nothing like we got, but some, anyway so I didn't. Anyway, maybe with you
coming in he wasn't gonna do it so I didn't say nothin'. I just got on the
side of the bed like we do and he got behind me but I was too high for him
when he was on his knees and too low if he stood up so I lay on the bed and
he got on top. I hadda help him put it in my hole and he sticks it in and
all the way and I know he likes it `cause he just stays like that, holdin'
onto me, you know, tight. I hadda say to start fucking and then he did,
slow until I said to go faster so he could cum."

	I was getting frustrated with the pace of the story. "So, you fuck
him or not?"

	"Let me finish. He came real quick, maybe a couple minutes, nothing
like us or Billy or Timmy and it's my turn. I put him where I was on the
side of the bed and get the Vaseline out from under the bed, put some on my
dick and some in his hole. The dummy didn't know the difference until we
hadda wash it off. So, he's sayin' don't go in fast and all so I stick it
in slow but he says, `Stop, it hurts.' So I stopped but I didn't pull it
out, just stayed where I was, put some more spit on so it was even
slipperier. It felt real good in him so I really wanted to get all the way
in there and said he just needed to wait a minute and it wouldn't hurt no
more and, anyway, I lied and said it hurt me a little too but then it
didn't hurt no more so he says okay but I hadda wait until he said
okay. So, I was pushin' it in real slow, dripping more spit on it as it
goes in and he didn't say nothin' and then I was all the way in him so I
said, `See, don't hurt all that much.' When he didn't say nothin', I pulled
it out some, maybe half way, and put it back in a couple times and still he
wasn't saying nothin' so I started fuckin' `im and I grabbed his cock and
started playing with it while I'm fucking him and he got hard again so I
fucked harder and it really felt real good; good as Billy was when he was
still lettin' us fuck him, better `cause this was this kid's first time and
I got him, you know, a virgin."

	The `virgin' concept had come up among our classmates regarding
different girls and how much better it was when they were that way. Ned had
been disappointed when the girl he'd screwed hadn't been one so this kid
was special like Billy had been, except I, being smaller, had been the
first inside him.

	Ned went on, "So, I'm fucking and fucking and his dick is getting
real hard so I know he likes it and I fucked even harder and he's goin'
`unh unh' but he ain't complainin' and then I can't hold it no more and,
bam, I shot my load inside him and I'm jerkin' him off real fast and then
he shoots his load on the side of the mattress, not all that much. You
oughta try him too. He liked it. S'posed to come back Saturday."

	By that time I was hard and thinking about fucking Ned.

"Okay," he agreed, "but you gotta suck me after."

	The `virgin' didn't come Saturday but Monday after school. Ned
fucked him again, not me. The kid just didn't turn me on.

	Shamelessly, since I had sexy, loving Timmy Dunkle any time I
wanted, I had my eyes on a boy too. He was younger, a hairless ten year old
public school kid named Brian McGinnis, who, rumor had it, was going out
with men much like Mike McMullen had a few years before. Well, I learned
something else about that sort of thing. They got paid for sex. Of course,
I'd sort of known that but not the specifics. Brian provided specifics.

After plying him with candy and some of Ned's jokes, (He especially liked
the one about the great god Thor), he finally came to my house and up into
my bedroom to see my impressive comic book collection. I told Mom I was
going to help him with his arithmetic. As he was reading, actually mostly
looking at, a Green Lantern story, I asked him if the kids in his class
were beating off like we did back then. Some did. Did he? Of course. Wanna?
Okay.

	I'd based my pursuit of the boy on his relative good looks, a
feeling that he might have been well endowed where it counted and, of
course, that he was reportedly letting men blow him. Not only wasn't he
well endowed, he was uncircumcised, unclean and wanted a dime for me to
touch him. We beat off.

	Gorgeous blond Billy Turner, by then in the first stages of his
great journey into adolescence, began coming around more often, as much as
twice a week. His body had thickened a bit but he was still wonderful to
caress while sucking on that growing circumcised, still hairless cock and
thrusting between his saliva slickened, silky smooth thighs. From behind,
it was almost as good as being inside him so we didn't protest for
long. When fucking me, he gripped my body tight to his, screwing slowly to
keep from cumming too quickly, rocking side to side, making my insides feel
like pudding. It was even better with Ned on top of the two of us, the head
of his long dong poking my perineum, pressing dear Billy's flesh to mine
and his cock deeper inside me.

	For all the boys we took to my room for sex, you'd think one of my
sisters would eventually figure out we were doing more than homework in
there but, they hadn't so far. It took Ned with Nancy McFadden to blow that
myth.

	Nancy was our age, nearly fifteen, fully developed though with
small tits and relatively narrow hips, boyish as Ned liked, with a
reputation far more widespread than Brian the callboy. Patty saw her go up
with us and noticed we weren't carrying school books as we did when boys
were brought in on weekdays. She listened outside my door and heard it all.

	Nancy, who was aware of Ned's great cock via the rumor mill; a girl
who'd heard it from a girl who'd heard it from Ned's sort of girl friend,
then Ned himself. She went right for it, pushing him down on the bed,
opening his belt and unzipping his fly while Ned lay back, hands behind his
head. I sat beside him and watched. She reached in and tugged it out,
already nearly extended its full six and a half inches. For a few moments,
she held it gently in both her hands, staring.

	Ned said, "See? You didn't believe me. What..."

	She cut him off by dropping her wide open mouth down on it, taking
in more than she should have been able to. I could only take about two
thirds of it inside my mouth. Her lips almost reached his pubic
hairs. After only a half dozen times up and down, she said,

"Let's fuck," the fuck coming out like `ffffuhhck'.

	She was out of her dress and panties faster than Ned could get out
of his shoes, kicking them off rather than untying them. He was still
trying to pull his pants off when she climbed on top of him. I had to rush
around and tug them off. Ned's cock disappeared inside her. I peeked around
from behind to see his face. He was looking down his body with either
curiosity or concern. I wasn't sure which.

She rolled the both of them over. "Fuck me hard."

	Ned, my brother, noticed me and said in a strained voice, "You
gotta do Steve after?"

	"Sure," she replied. "Fuck."

	I wasn't interested. Ned fucked, hard. I stood there and watched,
my cock soft as her boobs. She started to groan.

	"Shhh, they're gonna hear us," pleaded Ned in a strained
whisper. He looked over at me and mouthed `big'.

	I smiled, thinking how much nicer it was up Timmy's hole or between
Billy's thighs than the hairy cave Ned was spelunking. Even my well plumbed
ass had to be tighter. And I didn't groan or smell funny. I opened the
window, concerned that mother might recognize the strange aroma.

	It took a while. I was sure someone was going to hear us, unaware
that all three of my sisters were right outside with their ears to my
door. When he finally was about to fire, she sensed it and pushed him
off. He squirted all over himself and the bed. Ned was surprised. I was
impressed. She was ready for me, probably in hopes that what Ned carried
was part of a broad family inheritance.

	"I'm kinda, uh, there's some crap on my dick."

	She shrugged her shoulders and asked, "Where's the bathroom?"

	We kept a complete cleanup kit with a screw on top jelly jar full
of water, a small piece of soap and a roll of toilet paper in the back of
my bottom dresser drawer. All clean and dressed, we opened the door and
there they were, arms folded across their chests, smirks contorting their
faces.

"Mom's gonna hear about this," said Patty with the other two nodding
agreement.

	Nancy `hmmmphed' and headed for the stairs.

Ned pleaded, "C'mon, Patty, she begged me, you know, `cause, you know." He
touched his fly. "I never done this before. I hadda try it. C'mon."

	"We all heard," injected Nellie, her head cocked and eyebrows
raised.

	"All right," I said, "what? You know I never ratted on any of you
like when you broke the chain in the toilet and I fixed it before Dad got
home."

	"That was a accident," returned Debbie.

	There was negotiation, a painful discussion. I had to agree to make
their beds and do their homework for a week plus, tossed in at the end, let
them watch if we ever did it again.

	"Watch?  You're actin' like this is supposed to be bad and you
think we're gonna do it again around you?"

	"Even if you do it someplace else. You gotta tell us," stated
Nellie like it was some new municipal ordinance.

	Ned said, "Well, we ain't gonna do it no more so forget it. We can
tell your mother you said that."

	"No you can't. We'll say it's a lie and she'll believe us, three
against two, and we're girls, like Mom. She'll believe us."

	For a week, we did their homework. Ned only stayed over twice those
seven days, probably so he wouldn't have to make their beds. He really
hated listening to the three of them making comments about how poorly we
were doing it. Poor Timmy pitched in, not learning until later the whole
truth behind our punishment. He thought it had something to do with some
boy Ned had brought around.

	Then the corker, Patty followed us into my room that last night,
with Timmy lying across the bed working on his science homework, and
insisted on being told what it was like.

	"I ain't tellin' you shit!" blurted out Ned.

	"I'm gonna tell Mom you're cussing."

	"Tell her!"

	That ended interfamily discussion for several days. At the dinner
table, Mother asked what all the silence was about. No one would answer. My
father thought it was great.

	Timmy thought it was funny but, as we suspected he might, insisted
he get a crack at the next female.

	That spring, the war entered its final phases, The death toll was
staggering. In March, the Americans fire bombed Tokyo, killing over eighty
thousand mostly non-combatants including countless women and
children. Then, a month later, the Russians entered Berlin, fighting house
to house, slaughtering civilians as well as German troops, many of whom
were younger than me at the time. My mother, while recognizing the evil the
Nazis represented and that they and the Japanese had started the war, was
distraught that their leaders and the Allied politicians couldn't somehow
end their hopeless cause without the death and frequently horrifying
injuries to the innocents. In the days before Hitler finally committed
suicide, she sat on my bed with me and cried over the suffering brought on
by `a small group of egomaniacal, unfeeling men on both sides'.

	It turned me into a lifelong pacifist.

	For a while, it even blunted my sex drive, even my concern over
being different. Ned didn't understand my somber mood. I'm not going to say
he was indifferent to the suffering of others; it was just too far
away. Sanitized Movietone news at the movie theater and newspaper pictures
compromised his vision of what was happening outside our part of town. I
concentrated on studies and reading, Ned continued on boys.

Then came V-E Day. The war in Europe and the murder of children was
over. Sadly, being a white boy with virtually no knowledge of those with
darker skin, be they American blacks or browns or the `yellow' of Asia, I
didn't yet have the same degree of empathy for the masses dying in the
East.

	With a sense that the world was headed in a positive direction,
that the end was near for the Japanese, by then in my fifteenth summer, I
greatly developed my repair anything business earning enough to make my
father, already glowing over my ending the school year second academically
in my class, prouder still by contributing toward family expenses, buying
my own and Timmy's clothes and some for Ned, growing my savings account and
having enough to spend on, what else, boys. Well, Dad didn't know about
that.

Brian McGinnis, by then twelve and obviously well taken care of by someone
other than his poor parents, was the first boy I spent money on. His price
had gone up. It took a while to get him to admit what he'd do and for how
much. Each activity had a price. It was twenty cents to blow him, another
five if naked, half a dollar for him to blow me and seventy-five cents if I
wanted to fuck him. A dollar would buy me the entire package and an hour of
his time. I got the feeling he was putting all this together as we spoke
but I wasn't yet fully aware of the thriving boy prostitution going on in
some sections of the city, including my own.

Up in my room, alone in the house for a change, I suggested he bathe first
but he `guaranteed' he'd showered in a hotel just that morning.

I was skeptical. "How'd you get into a hotel? You sneak in?"

	"Unh uh, I stayed there last night with this man, a guy like you."
He pulled a dollar out of his pocket and waved it at me, immediately
becoming more credible.

	Recovering from this startling revelation, I pulled out a quarter
and handed it to him. He stripped and lay back on the bed, hands behind his
head, little dick tilted to the right but clean. I fondled it, feeling
strangely empowered by my first purchase of a boy's services. The penis
lifted, hardened, and stretched out longer than I'd expected but short of
what I'd have liked. He opened his legs when I put my fingers under his pea
balls. It was like being in a department store. What did I really want to
buy? The answer was easy.

	"Can we kiss?"

	"Ten cent."

	"Does the dollar include kissing?"

	"Uh huh."

	I took back the quarter and handed over a bill.

	Quickly naked, I lay beside him and tugged us together, with his
help. Without any hesitation, his mouth opened, eyes closed, and lips came
to mine. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced. His tongue went
everywhere inside my mouth, even along side my teeth. He sucked on my
tongue until it hurt. His hands massaged my back, shoulders, neck and head
then went to my ass, perineum, balls and finally to my bloated erection. I
had to be careful not to unload long before my already paid for sixty
minutes were up. How much of the hour had gone by? Five, ten minutes?
Everything was moving so fast.

	He rolled on top of me, sat up and masturbated me behind himself.

"Want me to blow you now? We can do it sixty nine so you can do me too."

	All I could do was nod. He did a quick turn, ass revolving one
hundred eighty degrees over my stomach, then slid back until his crotch was
over my chin. His uncircumcised dick pointed up at a forty-five degree
angle so he pushed it straight and poked it into my mouth. As I clomped
down on it, he swallowed mine, right down to the hairs. Possibly knowing
how close I was and wanting to earn his full fee, he worked me slowly up
and down, his shoulders moving side to side as he rotated my cock around
inside his mouth. He was doing things Ned and I, in all our years and
hundreds of times having sex, had never dreamt of. Where did he learn this
stuff?

	Air hit my cock as he lifted off and pressed my head down then
pulled it back up by the hair.

"Me too."

	I was under him. He didn't weigh all that much but his heaviest
part was on top of my face. I lifted him up with one hand, dug my elbows
into the bed and got to work. His slightly undersized boner was nice to
suck on, certainly better than any Sugar Daddy caramel bar. As I sucked, he
pumped, rocked side to side, pushed balls and all into my mouth and got
back to work on me. My mind flitted between his tasty morsel and my
energized anode. Timmy on his best day wasn't this good. If only this boy
could come and live with me!

	Several times, Brian took me right to the verge of orgasm then let
go and worked his own groin around in my mouth.

	"Good, ain't I?" he bragged at one point looking at me between his
legs.

	"Mmmph hmmph," was all I could get out with a full mouth.

	"Wanna fuck now?"

	Whoops, I thought, what to use for a lubricant? Ned had taken the
Vaseline for a possible tryst. Spit wasn't going to be enough for my almost
six inches in this little hole.

	He mouthed my boner a bit more, leaving it dripping.

"Now?" he asked a moment later.

	I answered with his dick still between my lips. "Hokay."

He rolled off and flopped tummy down, flat on the bed.

	He seemed to know what he was doing. I got behind him. He pushed
his little ass up at me and pulled the cheeks apart. There was the pucker.

"Put some spit on it," he ordered.

I crawled over him and dribbled enough to run down between his legs and
over his balls.

"Okay, put yours in."

I moved forward.

He grabbed hold of my shaft and put the point of my cock against his hole
and said, "Okay, go in."

A gentle push was all that was necessary. He was as easy to get inside as
Ned, easier than Timmy and just as nice, better than Ned since there was no
hair, just smooth bare flesh like Timmy and Billy. It was exhilarating. My
entire middle felt energized.

He pulled me down on top of him and put a hand behind my neck. I fucked him
slowly, completely, pulling out to the tip each time and pushing in until
only my balls were outside him. There had to have been a bunch of men with
big cocks to get a boy this size so loose. I chastised myself for doing
anything but enjoying the feel of his hot slick canal.

A few minutes into this final act, he said, "Tell me before you shoot so
you can jerk me off."

I almost put a price on that. The brat was enjoying this, maybe as much as
me.

Shortly, I obeyed. "Almost."

	He turned us onto our sides and pulled my upper hand to his cock,
his stone hard cock. What I did was automatic because my mind was under
control of my sex machinery. A few more thrusts then a couple of hard ones
and I shot additional lubricant into his innards.

	"Keep fucking! Don't stop yet."

He pushed my hand away and furiously masturbated himself. I felt it when he
climaxed. Clear throbs rolled down his rectum.

	"Don't take it out yet. Go in more."

He tugged at my bun. I pushed, feeling great doing it. I didn't want to
pull out any more than he wanted me gone.



	After paying Ned and Timmy for their help, I was earning from ten
to fifteen dollars a week fixing everything from toasters to doors. Brian
cost me a buck a week for the rest of the summer then once a month during
the school year. As you might imagine, I shared him with Ned who,
frequently along with Timmy, handed me tools, held things in place and ran
to the hardware store. It was incredible seeing Brian's ass swallow Ned's
monster completely. Timmy, for some reason, wanted nothing to do with
Brian. I think he saw him as competition. I was very attentive and loving
of Timmy when he slept over in hopes of calming any fears he may have had.

	There were a few other boys that summer; Timmy and a growing Billy
Turner, of course, and four thirteen and fourteen year olds that Ned
seduced, as though most adolescents needed to be conned into sex. A few
times, when the house was empty of adults and girls, he was able to use my
bedroom, but mostly he took them to a junked mattress in an abandoned house
two blocks away but full of bugs, especially mosquitos.

	On Labor Day, the day before school began, Billy finally agreed to
let me, not Ned, again stick my dick inside him.

"Just once to see why you guys like it so much."

	At Timmy's recommendation, for lubrication we used what was
apparently a mountain concoction, a combination of spit and lard warmed up
in our hands. Rather than me sticking him, he insisted on sitting on my
cock, taking about two full minutes to get me completely inside.

"This doesn't feel all that good," he complained but lay back and let me
roll on top of him. "Go slow, okay?"

	Though this wasn't the little hairless soprano voiced Billy I'd
fallen in love with, it was still him and I was finally back inside. There
was no way I was going to make this an unpleasant experience for him. I
began with short, gentle thrusts, trying to hit that part of him I knew
felt so good. Angling my cock so it pressed more on the bottom of his
rectal canal, I slipped in and out again and again, resisting an urge to
push hard and deep. He didn't say a word.

I asked, "This okay?"

	"Sort of, yeah." He sounded slightly strained so I slowed even
more.

	Ned asked Billy, "Want me to suck you while he's doing that?"

	"That okay, Steve?"

	"Sure." I pulled us onto our sides and looked down. He was soft.

	Ned crawled in front of him, his semi-erect dong at Billy's
face. It had been there many times before. Billy would masturbate us but
not blow. As Ned sucked in his four inches, Billy did as before, taking
Ned's seven in both hands and working it slowly.

	I pushed in a bit deeper, held myself there waiting to see if
there'd be a complaint. Hearing none, I went a little farther inside him
with each penetration, gradually taking it almost completely out then
pushing back in until we were body to buns. Ned put his hand on top of
Billy's side and gave me the success sign. Timmy crawled in behind me and
poked his four inches where it wanted to go. I pumped a little harder,
careful with each thrust to run the tip of my cock where it would excite
him the most. As I was getting close, Billy stiffened. I sped up. He
jerked. I was fucking too hard to feel what was happening. Ned grabbed my
ass and yanked me forward. I fucked faster, and shot my young sperm up
where I'd wanted to put it for years.

My hole got so tight, Timmy, who'd pulled out expecting to push right back
in, found the door closed. But, being the experienced lad he was, kept
banging in between my cheeks and thighs until he too was able to reach his
goal.

	In the ensuing discussion, Ned had to reassure Billy he'd never try
to stick his anaconda, as we'd been calling that huge dong of late, inside
him. That settled, I could fuck him every once in a while as long as we did
it just as we had. Timmy regained interest and was told he could screw him
whenever I didn't.

	Then came the horror of atomic warfare. Though my mother and I
understood President Truman's reasoning in dropping those terrible
instruments of destruction, it just reinforced our feelings that mankind
had become significantly less human. I remember clutching Timmy to me the
night after we were told about Hiroshima. Once he realized it had nothing
to do with a desire for sex and, despite my rambling attempt at an
explanation, not understanding why I should care so much for strange people
halfway around the world who were responsible for the terrible things we'd
been told they'd done, it confused and frightened him into kissing me
repeatedly all over the face and reassuring me of his love.

	Finally, just as we were heading back to classes, there was the
anticlimactic relief of the Japanese surrender. The three of us celebrated
on top of my bed. I remember Timmy bouncing up and down, impaled on Ned's
anaconda, his arms waving every which way. When I saw the famous photo of
the sailor kissing the girl in Times Square, I compared the two images in
my mind, chuckling over what folks would think of that picture on the cover
of Life magazine.