Date: Fri, 25 Mar 2016 18:15:45 -0400
From: suck4straight@gmail.com
Subject: Waiting by the north door... (authoritarian)

One afternoon, in the fall of seventh grade,  as
I was leaving school by the north door, I was approached by a kid who was
in my gym class--he was waiting there for me. He was a big, tall,
good-looking, athletic kid--popular with the guys--and I worried that maybe
he had caught me sneaking a glimpse at his cock in the showers, which I
*tried* not to do (he was *so* mature and hairy down there--I couldn't help
looking).

He came up to me as soon as I had walked out the door. Bringing his face
right up *real *close to mine, he said in a low, hushed voice that he
wanted to talk to me; he put his hand on my shoulder and he seemed really
serious about something. I felt flattered that this big, tough kid wanted
to share something with me, a secret perhaps. Maybe he wanted to be my
friend. I was startled by the breathtaking physical closeness of his face
and intrigued by the promise of adventure and, although I sensed that I
probably shouldn't, I wanted to find out more--so I went with him. My heart
was pounding.

Once he had me out of the earshot of the others, he whispered to me that he
needed to have his dick sucked--that he needed it *real bad*--and he was
hoping that maybe I might "volunteer" to blow him.  Before I had a chance
to even think about how to answer, he pointed out the growing erection
visibly tenting my pants, "I know you want it--I won't tell any of the
guys," he promised. Then he took me off alone under a bridge in the park
near school where nobody could see us, and asked me if I wanted to touch
his hard-on through his jeans and when I didn't respond, he took my hand
and placed it on his crouch so I could feel it--it was much bigger than
mine. I knew that I shouldn't, but I squeezed it--it was rock hard.

"Where would we go?" I asked him sheepishly, eyes averted down at the
ground--afraid to look him in the eye, to meet his dominant, gaze. From
that moment on, he *knew* that he had pegged me correctly in gym class--in
fact, at that moment he had me just where he wanted me--he could see that I
was all queer for him and in his arrogant, adolescent narcissism he took
advantage of my confusion in order to to lure me into submission while he
could, before I had a chance to think it over.

He told me that he was a "latch-key" kid with no brothers or sisters and
that neither of his parents ever came home before four o'clock, so we went
to his house, only a few blocks from school -- and up in his bedroom,
behind closed doors, I sucked him off good, him sitting back in the chair
next to his desk and me down on my knees between his legs on the floor. He
came three times in less than an hour.

His first orgasm was really fast--he was so excited that he shot just
moments after I took his dick in my mouth; but then afterwards he was still
hard and had me blow him a second time, which took him quite a bit longer.
Having his hard dick in my mouth, and seeing his crude reactions to my
efforts to pleasure him, seeing how excited it got him when I varied the
speed, or combined the mouth suck with a hand grip, how uncontrollable this
made his jerking, spastic body, writhing in his chair in ecstasy, bringing
him to the brink like this, teasing him and making him beg for more if I
slowed down or withheld even a bit. Even though he was the dominant one,
once I got him going, he was at my mercy.

All this was thrilling in a forbidden sort of way--it was something that I
was convinced at the time was a sin, something shameful, against nature,
something I wasn't supposed to be doing, something my dad would not be
proud of, if he ever found out. Yet the strong sense of the forbidden, the
transgressive, enhanced the experience, upped the ante -- made me feel like
a sexual "outlaw," both ashamed and defiant

"Beat your meat while you suck me," the boy ordered. He had me do this not
so much because he cared about my pleasure, but because he thought that
stimulating myself would make me even more excited than I already was to
blow him (and he was right).

I don't know why I didn't ask him to reciprocate and suck me off in
turn--to tell the truth, it never even occurred to me to ask (how queer is
* that?*). Maybe that's why he kept me busy servicing him down there--so I
*wouldn't *ask. He really worked me hard for that second shot of his slimy
jizz--my jaw ached. Afterwards, I swallowed it all (just like his first
load of pud). Then he told me to "finish him off" by licking his balls,
real light.

While I was down there, darting my tongue around underneath his balls, I
caught a whiff of his sweaty nuts. Picking up on how much this turned me
on, and seeing yet another opportunity to demonstrate his dominance and my
perverseness, he said, "Sniff out them balls, while you got the chance,"
--at this point I abandoned any remaining inhibitions I had and deeply
inhaled his ripe, dirty scrotum odor with all the enthusiasm and relish of
a born faggot, wildly jacking my cock. The depravity of my submissive ball
work got him going again, and he jerked himself to orgasm a third time,
dribbling what little was left of his sperm onto his belly while I licked
his nut sack.

Afterward he seemed kind of embarrassed by the whole thing, and as it was
now nearing four o'clock, he quickly rushed me out of the house before his
parents got home. I felt very confused--ashamed of my submissive
subjugation to another guy, yet extremely stimulated by the whole thing--I
couldn't even wait to get home, but jerked myself off in a public toilet in
the park on the way back to my parent's house. I masturbated three or four
times later that night in bed--I could hardly sleep, tossing and turning,
anticipating out next encounter, feeling alternately excited and ashamed.

But when he didn't talk to me or even make eye contact with me the
following day at school, in the lunchroom, or in gym class, I figured that
this was just a one-time kind of thing.   But then there he was, waiting
again for me by the north door after school...