Date: Fri, 3 Jun 2016 15:38:57 +0000 (UTC) From: simon peter Subject: The Price of Growing Up Dear Reader This story, like many of my other stories, has elements that are based on real personal experiences. However, the names and places are all fictitious. If you feel like sending me a comment, negative or positive, please do so: simon23232@yahoo.com I would love to read your comments and suggestions. Also, very importantly, please donate to keep nifty going. Thanks. Simon The Price of Growing Up By Simon Peter I sat at my bedroom window, in my boxer shorts, cock out of the fly, edging, as I watched the construction men working on a building site near our house. My bedroom is on the second floor. Since the construction site opened in the lot next to our house around a month ago, I have made it a point of rushing back from school every day and catching an hour or so of watching those hot men in nude torsos sweating, muscles rippling, working. Even before I get to my room I already would have a hard-on. Heck, I get a hard-on just by thinking about those men. So I like men. I am only 15 years old, but I like men. Girls do nothing for me. I listen to my friends at school, my brothers, my cousins, and all they talk about is pussy, although I am certain that most of them haven't even seen one, let alone fucked one. I have never been with a man. Except for the gay porn I watch on my laptop, I have no idea what it would be like to sleep with a man. I have checked out my classmates in the showers after phys ed class, of course, but it is difficult for me to see clearly since I wear glasses which I have to take off. My classmates' naked bodies under the showers are sort of fuzzy, and I can't really stare, can I? So here I was, fisting my hard boy dick, my nuts on the edge of explosion, and I feasted on the men. Luckily, I could keep my glasses on, unlike in the showers, and the naked torsos were clear and exciting. I love the muscles, the body hair, the crotches. Everything about them is deliriously erotic for me. Almost on the verge of shooting, I hear footsteps on the stairs. I recognize my older brother's stomping up, and I rush to pull up my boxers and move away from the window. "Heya, bro," Ronnie barges into the room. We don't share rooms. I have three brothers and we all have our separate rooms. My dad is an architect and he has designed the house to cater for a large family. I don't have any sisters, though, just Ronnie, Mike and Larry. I am the youngest, yes, the baby of the house. "Hey," I reply in a husky voice, trying to clear my throat. He has almost caught me wanking. Not cool! "Whatchu doin? Sitting here all naked and all? Fuck, Stevey. You look all flushed and all. You horny or sompfin'?" Ronnie is the kind of guy who catches on a word or phrase which he would include in almost every sentence he utters. His current favorite is "all." He is 2 years older than me and soon will move away to college, at which time I would have the run of the house to myself. Both Mike and Larry are already away attending the state university. "Shut up, Ronnie," I croak, trying my best to hide my crotch, pulling down on my penis. "Big words for such a fucking kid and all, Stevey. I bet you are all horned up. You hidin' your little pecker?" "Man," I say, turning beet red, "what's with you. This is my room. Get out!" Ronnie approaches me and starts to wrestle me down to the floor. He is much bigger than I am. He pulls my boxers down, and there is my dick popping up, plastered to me belly. I am shaking with rage and I feel the tears build up behind my eyeballs. What right does he have? "Awwwwww, my kid bro has a boner and all," Ronnie teases as he pushes me down on my back and straddles my thighs. "Who were you thinking of, Stevey? Is it Lucy? You have the hots for Lucy so you were sitting here and jerking your little dick?" "Fuck off, Ronnie," I try to struggle to get away, but his strong hands keep me pinned to the floor. So I don't have a donkey-size cock. So what? I have measured my dick and it has come up to 6 inches. Not bad for a 15-year old, huh? I have read somewhere on the net that a guy can keep growing his penis until he is twenty or so. So I have 5 more years to grow a couple more inches, haven't I? And then it suddenly strikes me. I have never seen Ronnie naked. Is his dick bigger. Of course, it has to be! I feel desperate to check out my brother's cock. My stomach churns. That is a weird thought, a sick thought. Ronnie is my older brother. How could I think of him that way? "Little dick?" I croak, full of anger. "As if yours is bigger." "Duh, Steve. Yea, sure, mine's bigger. Wanna see it and all?" My eyes go wild. Ronnie is squatting on top of me across my thighs, offering to show me his penis. My boy dick throbs back to full erection. Ronnie stands up and starts to undo his jeans belt slowly, gazing at my face. I just lie on the floor, mesmerized, unable to breathe. He pulls down his jeans and takes out his dick. Soft. Bigger than my erect dick! Even soft Ronnie's cock is bigger, thicker. The head looks huge, mushroomed with a defined ridge. Ronnie fists his dick and smirks at me. "What do you think of this fucker, bro?" I know that if I keep starting at Ronnie's manhood, even flaccid and hanging over his balls, I am going to ejaculate without even touching myself. "You're 17, Ronnie," I say as I heave myself up and pull up my boxers, pressing my dick to my belly. "What did you expect? For my age, my dick is big anyway." "You haven't seen it all hard, have you? It gets double, Stevey. You want to get it hard for me. And all?" Is he serious? No way! I love cocks and naked men, but not my brother's, my own flesh and blood. Laughing, Ronnie tucks his dick back into his jeans and leaves the room tousling my hair. "Good wanking and all, bro," he parts. That night, I masturbate with Ronnie's dick vividly in my head, imagining it getting longer, harder, thicker, rising up and up, throbbing, until it points towards the ceiling, grand and masculine and powerful. My ejaculation is much more intense than when I jack off watching the construction workers next door. But am I going to spend my life masturbating to images in my head? Shouldn't I be out looking to meet someone? Have sex with someone other than the palm of my hand? Two days ago, I decided to do something about my sexuality and my intense desire for guys. I had just got back from school, but instead of jacking off as I watched the construction men, I got online. Maybe I could find something. I signed into a chat room, a gay chat room. I made myself to be 22 years old with a 10-inch cock, hairy chest and all. After a short while, I started to chat with someone who claimed he was 22 also and who told me that his dick was a ten-incher as well. I realized that it was very possible that this person was probably 50 years old or 15 like me, but I couldn't tell from the style he used in the chat. However, it was very erotic and it made feel better about myself. Our chat developed quickly into cyber sex with this guy, chat name of "hotandhorny". It took me by surprise when-after I shot my load reading his response: "oh man am cumminggg Cummingggg," visualizing a squirting man cock showering me with his semen-he asked for us to meet. In real. I realized then that I was fucked. How could I reveal my false identity? The fact that "hotandhorny" was ready to meet in person told me that he hadn't been lying about who he was. He couldn't be 50 or 15, could he? If he were, he would be satisfied with the cyber sex we were having. "Why r u hesitant?" he asked me. "I don't know," I answered. I was flustered. Should I or shouldn't I? But what the hell? What had I got to lose? I could simply walk away if I felt there was something weird going on. How would he react about my lying about my age? Again, he could walk away if things were not to his liking. "Ok," I said. "Ok? U mean it?" came the instant reply. He gave me his phone number and we agreed to meet at 6:00 the following evening at the entrance of a park near to my home. On the phone, he sounded young and sexy, causing my boy dick to stiffen inside my shorts. That night, I couldn't sleep. Or rather I slept fitfully, always with a raging hard-on. I kept telling myself that there was a huge chance that nothing would come out of this meeting, but it was a totally new experience for me. Meeting a gay guy who knew I was gay too. Wow! The day crept on for what it felt like a century. I spent the time in a daze, couldn't concentrate on my classes, didn't give a fuck about my classes, and always with an erection pressed to my belly by my tight briefs. We had agreed to wear blue jeans and white t-shirts to identify ourselves. Fuck me! This was real. Not my room overlooking a construction site full of partially naked, sexy men. Not my brother bragging about his dick. No the Internet and the chat room. Here: almost 6:00 at the park, real time. I stood on the sidewalk facing the entrance to park, listening the pounding of my heartbeats. Sure enough, a young guy in blue jeans and white t-shirt was slowly pacing back and forth. He looked gorgeous. I estimated 20 years, just as he said in the chat room. What was I to do? I had lied. But I needed to make the date. I needed to see his reaction. I was dying for him to approve even though I had lied. Holding my heart in my hand, I crossed the street and walked up to him. "Hi," my voice came out a bit too high in pitch for my liking. Shit. Now I not only looked 15 but sounded like a fucking 15-year-old punk. He looked at me appraisingly, a question mark visibly drawn on his handsome, chiseled face. Dear God, make him like me, please, pretty please. I bit my lower lip and tried to smile. "I don't believe it," he said in a low voice, and I thought that was the huskiest, sexiest voice I had ever heard. I was already in love, totally, irrevocably in love. "Sorry," I mumbled. He scratched his head, his fingers moving up and down his curly black hair and shook his head in wonder. "You're a fucking kid," he said, still wearing this incredulous expression on his face. I nodded, not daring to say anything, desperately hoping for things to improve. I wanted to fly into his arms and make him kiss me. He was such a hunk. "Oh, man," he said, shaking his head. "Now I'm in fucking trouble." "Why?" I asked timidly, my heart racing, my palms already sweating. "Why?" he looked straight into my blue eyes. "You are asking me why? First, kid, you're a kid, right? You're an under-age minor, right?" I nodded my head stupidly. As if I didn't know! As if I didn't wish I were 24, muscular, grabbing him and kissing him. "Second, you're cute as fuck!" his gaze bore into my eyes. I went numb at his remark. My knees felt weak and I wasn't sure if I could stay standing or disintegrate right there at the entrance to the park. "Is that a problem?" I managed to say. Jesus! Couldn't I think of something smarter to say? More mature? He said I was cute. I didn't want to be cute! I wanted to be hot and sexy and manly. But he said it, I was cute and there was nothing I could do about it. After some hesitation, he walked into the park, beckoning for me to follow. I followed like a puppy. From behind he looked awesome, at least 4 inches taller, v-shaped torso, bubble butt inside the tight jeans. I wondered how he would look like naked and I melted. He found a bench next to some bushes and sat down, leaving space for me to sit next to him. It was starting to get dark and the park lights went on. There weren't many people around and the spot he had chosen was sort of secluded. "Why did you lie to me?" he asked as I sat down, my head bent, staring at the space between my feet. I had no answer. I just froze. I could feel his body heat next to me and I was dying. "Look at me," he ordered. "And tell me why." I looked at him, and in the darkening light and shadows, he looked like a god. I still could not utter a word. "Why?" he repeated, and he placed one hand on my thigh. "I mean you are a cute kid. Why would you want to hide your real age?" He rubbed up and down my inner thigh. God! A man was caressing my thigh. Oh my God. What could I say? I was totally at a loss, totally in love. "I'm sorry," I mumbled. "You are cute too." His hand moved slowly to under my balls, and I took in a breath, my body on fire. He glanced around and then bent and brushed his lips along the side of my neck. "Oh, fuck," he whispered. "Am I in fucking trouble!" His hand was cupping my crotch, feeling my dick, totally erect. I moaned and he shushed me, pressing on my hardness, his other hand massaging his own crotch. Still rubbing up and down the outline of my erection, he took my hand and placed on his own penis. I felt the throbbing, the hardness, the man-sized cock inside the jeans. By then, my mind had shut down and my lust had taken over, completely. He pulled me up and led me behind the bushes, where he pulled me to him and bent over me and raised my head with his hand under my chin and kissed me full on the lips and pushed his tongue to force my lips open and inserted his tongue inside my mouth and pressed his body on mine and his cock poked my boy chest and his other hand cupped my boy butt and I died and went to heaven. Shielded by the bushes, the guy pulled down his jeans and fisted his dick. Yes, 10 inches of it. The guy was no liar. He pushed my head down and my face was suddenly in line with his cock, staring me straight at the mouth. In the darkening light, I licked the head. I felt his hand on the back of my head goading me. I took the cock head between my lips to just under the ridge and my mouth was already full. I was reeling with the realization that I had a real flesh and blood-no, it felt like a rock-hard rod- man cock in my mouth. He pushed my head onto his groin and arched into my mouth forcing a couple more inches before I gagged. He pulled out, but not completely, and then pushed back in again. I gagged and slobbered. He pulled out, and then thrust deeper holding my head in place. I gagged and coughed and couldn't breathe, but he kept the pressure. Actually, he was thrusting in and out fast, fucking my face. I could see the remaining inches of his rod and I wrapped my hand around it feeling the rock-hardness of the man tool. When my gagging and coughing got too loud, he pulled off me and made me turn around. Plastering himself at my back, he undid my jeans and pulled them down. He bent me over. I felt his cock in my crack. Oh my God. The guy was going to fuck me in the ass. I had seen porn clips and pictures of anal sex. It turned me on, to watch a man penis disappear inside another man's hole. But this was my hole and nothing bigger than my index finger had gotten in there. With one hand, he covered my mouth, the other holding my hip. He pushed hard on my boy hole and penetrated. My screams were muffled by his hand, but that didn't lessen the pain, an unbearable, searing, Mach-one kind of pain. Still covering my mouth with his hand, keeping me bent over, the guy kept on pushing into me, overpowering me with his muscled arms and his large body. It felt like forever for his cock to force itself all the way inside me. I could feel my tears streaming down on my face cheeks and onto the hand that was covering my mouth, stifling my screams of pain. He fucked me for possibly three or four minutes, like a dog, emptied his semen in my ass, released me, tucked himself into his jeans, and walked away. I slumped down onto the ground, stones and brush pressed into my knees and hands. I didn't feel the pain. The pain was centered around my ass, burning and unrelenting pain. I felt some warm fluid running down my thighs. Crying, I reached down and wiped off some. It was slimy but it was also reddish-pink in color. This was his cum mixed with my blood. I started retching into the bush. I heaved and cried. What a wimpy baby I felt. Trembling, dizzy, heaving, I managed to dress and wobble home. Straight up to my room. Into the shower. Still crying. Still in pain. But now I was in disgust with myself. My ass burnt like hell, but it was my ego that was shattered. Had I been raped? Not if I had wanted it, lusted for it. Was it the guy's fault? I was the one who had lied. He was the age he had claimed to be with a cock that he had claimed it was. I hadn't agreed to the meeting in the park for donuts and juice. It was clearly implied that there would be sex. So who was to blame, really? I felt pathetic. I got rid of my dirtied briefs in the waste bin, hoping that my mother wouldn't notice, climbed into bed and cried myself to sleep. I was growing up, and the price was certainly high. The next day, Saturday, was sunny, but for me it was like the end of the world. I felt my ass hole. It was sore as hell. Damn it! Why should something make you feel fantastic when you watched it on video but in real life became awkward and shameful and so, so painful? My Mom called me down for breakfast. I ignored that. I just wanted to remain in bed and die. A guy had fucked me. Forcefully. I started to cry again. My bedroom door opened and there was Ronnie walking in, a look of concern on his face. "Stevey? Hey, bro, whassamatter? Stevey? What's wrong, bro?" This was the last person I wanted to see. He must have heard my heaving as he passed by my bedroom door. How could I face him? What would I say? How could I explain all the conflicting thoughts in my kid-head? The conflicting desires? The lust and the shame? "Leave alone," I muttered, unsuccessful trying to hide my whimpering voice. Ronnie sat on the side of the bed and made me turn to face him. I knew that my face was covered with tears. "Come on, bro, tell me. What is it? I'm your brother and all," he insisted. And then I spilled everything out: how I masturbated as I watched the men outside, surfed the net for men fucking men, got into the chat room, and finally the park! Everything. There was no way to describe the look on Ronnie's face as I blabbered, sometimes incoherently, between heaves, tears streaming down my face, unstoppable. The silence following my confession was deafening. Ronnie was staring at me, but I couldn't meet his eyes. I said all of that and there was nothing more to say. There it was. No lies, no glossing over, no excuses. Just that my ass was now fucked. To my utter surprise, Ronnie placed a hand on my head and ruffled my hair. "Oh, man," he exhaled. "I'm so sorry, Steve. God. I could kill that guy." "No, Ronnie. It wasn't his fault. Really. I asked for it and I got it, and now I have to live with it." "Shit, bro, you sound so mature. I still don't understand why you would want to meet some stranger for sex." I felt some disapproval in his tone. "It's not my fault that I am attracted to other guys," I said. "No, I know, Steve. No, it's not your fault. Besides, it's not a fault. You are who you are and I am comfortable with that." This took me by surprise. I was expecting some taunting, some teasing, some accusations, some words like "faggot" and "fruit" and such. Ronnie, however, sounded so understanding and I slowly started to relax. Still ruffling my hair, he said: "Jason? My friend?" "Yea," I stared at him, not crying anymore, curious. Jason was Ronnie's best friend and most of their time was spent together. They were both on the soccer team and they did all sorts of things together. Jason was handsome and popular. "He's gay," Ronnie said. My jaw dropped, my eyes got wider, and I inhaled audibly. "Yea, Steve. Jason is gay and I have known this for some time now." "My God, Ronnie, have you... have you... you know... guys... have you guys fucked?" Ronnie laughed. I felt myself smiling for the first time since the chatroom guy had pushed his cock into my mouth. "No, Steve. Not that Jason didn't want to. But we like each other as friends. I like girls and he likes guys, and we like each other's friendship. Why should his being gay affect our relationship?" I was speechless. "But," Ronnie added with a smile, a bit shy, I felt, "we did stroke each other once." "But you said you are not gay." "A hand is a hand and a pair of lips is a pair of lips. They don't have gender. And when you're horny, anything goes." "You jerked Jason off? And sucked his dick?" "I jerked him off, yes, but he did the sucking. And I tell you, bro, he sucks so much better than any chick I have been with. However, it only happened once. I am into girls." The relief I felt was enormous. I had support. My brother, who teased me all the time and enjoyed overpowering me, was really there for me. The strength I drew from Ronnie was enough for me to get over the park incident, put it behind me, make it part of my memories, but never let it scar me. I still like men. I still get fucked. But I have grown up.