Date: Thu, 26 Feb 2009 17:09:31 -0800
From: argylemonkey3.5@gmail.com
Subject: Fostered Lust - Chapter One - "Justin"

Preface:

This story is true.  I always roll my eyes when stories start like this
yet, considering it actually happened, I thought I might just get it out of
the way early on.  This all happened 10 or so years ago when I was 15 so,
naturally, I've had to do my best in recollecting the fuzzy bits.  I do
take some liberties with dialogue and description where my memory isn't
crystal clear, but the events themselves happened and the stories are as
real as the hand that will soon be in your pants.  The characters in these
stories are, presumably, living lives as grown men somewhere in the United
States.  I've refrained from embellishment as the facts are more
titillating and dizzying than any fiction I could fabricate.  If you are
under 18 or it is illegal for you to read smut like this where you are,
please don't get caught.

Enjoy.

Chapter One - Justin

When I was 12 I was busted for messing around with some of the younger kids
in my mother's day care.  Through a series of circumstances that transpired
over the following three years I ended up placed in the state's custody in
a juvenile foster home about an hour away from my hometown.  I met Ted, my
new foster dad, on a sunny October day with bags of my belongings piled in
his living room.  Ted (I, like the rest of his foster boys, would soon be
calling him Pa) had gotten into the foster care business with his wife some
15 years earlier.  It was her idea and it made good money, so when she died
a few years before my arrival, he continued to keep his home open to house
juvenile delinquents held in limbo between their homes and the correctional
facilities.  I do think he actually cared but I suspect he stayed in the
business because he couldn't think of anything else to do.  Pa was in his
early 60s. and smoked Marlboro reds by the bucket-full.

I was 15 at the time and had come out as gay in my eighth grade year, two
years prior.  It will be easier for you to enjoy the story if you have a
picture in your mind of how I looked then: I was about 5'7", 145# with dark
brown (almost black) hair that I kept short but long enough to style.  I
was an early bloomer and had started shaving at 12 and I kept my face
clean, I had chest hair and was fairly developed all around.  I'm
circumcised and was proud of my beautiful six inch cock.

Because of my sexual orientation and the nature of my offenses I was not to
share my room with anyone and had to sleep with the door open.  I didn't
mind hearing this as I'd shared a room my whole life with my little brother
and was used to not having any privacy.  I'm friendly and charismatic,
always have been, and I was honest when my new foster brothers, one by one
over a matter of hours, came to me to verify the rumors that I was, indeed,
a queer.

Surprisingly enough this didn't have the effect you might think it would on
a group of 13 to 16 year old guys who barely knew each other.  It didn't
seem to be a big deal, at least no one spoke up if it was.  When I first
arrived there were six of us boys, two to each room (the rule of my not
sharing a room having been broken right away).  Justin was my roommate.  He
was 16, a year older than me, slim and elfish in the face.  His hair was
light brown but he had it heavily highlighted with blond, and had dark,
thick eyebrows and bright blue eyes.  He took some obscure form of martial
arts and so was gone most nights at practice that kept him in great shape.
He was kind of a douche bag: nice enough, but obviously trying to prove
something.  He kept claiming he was training to be a ninja or something
like that.

At any rate, a few weeks passed as I acclimated to my new home, working
diligently to learn the ropes, the pecking order and to not make any waves.
I didn't like to fight and so steered clear of the ego clashes I witnessed
in the common space.  Our foster home was set up ideally.  The floor we
boys lived on was the ground floor, partially under ground but not entirely
a basement.  Coming down the steps from the main floor you walked through
the mini kitchen (in which nothing worked) and into the common space where
we had a big TV, a few couches and where two of the beds were.  Out to the
left was the sliding glass door into the back yard and the woods beyond,
off to the right was the hallway down which was found mine and Justin's
room, the third room where two other boys lived, and the bathroom.  The
autonomy that this set up afforded us is vital to how I got away with
having sex with so many of the guys I lived with over the next two years.
That autonomy was made greater by the fact that Pa was an alcoholic who
would often leave us with 20 bucks to go buy food, would lock the door to
the upstairs and go down the street to the bar where he would get hammered
until about 11pm when he would drive home in his very loud diesel truck,
which gave us plenty of heads up to shut off the lights and feign sleep
before he stumbled downstairs to check our bunks.  It's remarkable actually
that he got away with such lax supervision for so long without some stupid
tragedy that would have blown open the whole situation.  This miracle was
fostered by the fact that, while we were criminals we were no dummies, and
each of us understood that our lives would suck a lot more if Pa wasn't
gone all of the time or we had to go to another home.  So we did what we
wanted but protected our relative freedom fiercely.

Here's where it starts: Pa had called down the stairs and declared lights
out.  Twenty minutes later he had made his rounds, cigarette in mouth and
flashlight in hand, checking to be sure we were all tucked away.  After
checking our room he quietly closed the door to check on the third room.
We listened for his slippers to shuffle by again on his way upstairs before
resuming our conversation.  Justin was, of his own volition, explaining to
me why he didn't think he was into guys and had just started telling me
about the only semi-experience he had ever had with another guy - where he
and his good friend had gotten all hot and bothered on a camping trip
talking about the hot pussy they'd pounded earlier in the week and they,
horny and needing relief, went to different places and jacked off at the
same time, completely isolated from one another.

"Oh.  And that was it?"  I asked from my top bunk, under-whelmed but still
a bit jittery in my guts from the direction of the conversation.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Could you even see or hear each other?" I asked.

"No."

"How do you know you're not into guys then, if you've never even tried
anything?"  I was honestly curious (and hard as a rock, hoping against
hope...).

Justin paused.  I could hear him breathing in the bunk below me, his
springs squeaked as he shifted.  "I dunno," he said, "I guess I don't.
It's just that I don't look at guys and think 'he's hot' but I get boners
and stuff for girls all the time."

I waited, my heart pounding in my throat and my stomach cold as ice.

He continued, almost to himself: "I guess it wouldn't be a bad idea to see
if it does anything for me, cuz you're right: if I haven't tried it I can't
honestly say I don't like it."

I grinned and gulped, "I could suck your dick for you and then you could
see if it does it for you or not."

Another long pause.  "I'm not going to suck yours.  So don't even bother
asking."

"Sure, that's cool.  If it'll help you sort things out I'd be ok blowing
you without you paying me back," I reassured him.

Again, silence.  I could almost hear him chewing on the prospect in his
brain.  The tension between our two bunks was palpable.  At least a whole
minute passed before I heard, almost inaudibly from the bottom bunk, "Ok."

I jumped gingerly from my bunk to the floor.  "Do you want to do it lying
down or what?"

"Um, I guess I'll stand." And he did.  In the pale of the porch light
reflecting through our window I could see him get out of bed wearing his
flannel pajama pants and a wife-beater undershirt, his crotch already
tenting.  "You can't say anything to anyone.  Swear to God."

"Not a word, I swear." I was already on my knees eying his dick through the
fabric.

"Ok." He pulled down his pajama pants to his thighs showing me his
beautiful cut cock that jutted up at a slight angle, bobbing gently with
his heartbeat.  My eyes were adjusted to the dark and I took in the whole
picture of him in the pale light.  He had gorgeous balls in a slightly
hairy sack.  I started there, coming in slowly and using my nose to
appreciate what was about to be in my mouth.  He smelled soapish and
slightly musky.  I dug in, licking firmly where his sac and thigh met.

"Whoa!" he whispered quietly as he sucked in breath.

I sucked his ball sac into my mouth and massaged the soft skin with my
tongue. I felt a hand on my shoulder as I sucked his balls toward the back
of my mouth and slipped my tongue out along the bottom to lick his taint.
I had been having sex for a couple of years already and was no beginner,
but I was also 15 and eager.  I didn't wait any longer before holding his
very hard cock by its base and pointing it down just enough to get the head
in past my lips.  I suckled his head for a moment and then pulled off,
running my tongue along the sides and bottom of his dick.  Then I pursed my
lips at the very tip of his now throbbing wood and pressed my face forward
and keeping the tension in my lips while burying his cock in my face.  He
gasped again as my lips reached his hairs and I swallowed with his dickhead
against the back of my throat.  I pulled my mouth off, feeling the ridge of
his dickhead slide along the roof of my mouth until it was almost to my
lips and then, sucking, I pushed my head forward again.  I got in a few of
these before he put his hand in my hair and started to pull out on his own,
slowly pushing back in as he began fucking my face.  I took my hand off his
cock and moved it around to his backside where I softly stroked his mostly
smooth ass cheeks and tickled and held his balls, still damp from my spit,
with the other hand.  In very short order the pace of his hips quickly
increased along with his breath as he continued to fuck my face, his balls
now lightly thwacking my chin with each thrust as my hand had abandoned
them for my own cock.

I was so horny I could have fainted as I felt his ass cheeks flexing under
my hand and his dick punching the back of my throat.  His fingers flexed
and relaxed in my hair, grabbing chunks to pull my face harder against his
crotch.  He kept hold of my hair on the top of my head and wrapped his
other hand around to the base of my head in the back, getting a vice grip
on my skull and keeping up his steady rhythm.  I kept my lips pursed and
the suction constant, my hear t racing and my eyes beginning to tear up.

"I'm gonna cum!" he whispered urgently.  I pushed on his ass to show him
where I wanted him to do it.  He got the hint and his fingers dug into the
muscles at the base of my head and he took off like a jack rabbit, fucking
even faster, almost frantic in his final thrusts.  Less than ten strokes
later he moaned and paused briefly as I felt the first spurt of jizz land
on my tongue right before his still fucking cock slid back over it and
threw another against the back wall of my throat.  He slowed a bit but kept
fucking as he hunched over my face, his heaving stomach pressing against my
forehead, and he continued to allow his dick to empty into my mouth as I
swallowed.

I kept him in there until he was done.  After a moment he stood up, holding
my shoulder to steady himself as he pulled away from my face.  His half
hard and deflating dick leaving my mouth, he quickly pulled up his pajama
pants and said, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," I smiled.  "Did you like it?"

"I'm pretty sure I don't like guys.  The whole time I was thinking of you
being a girl," he said, looking away from me toward the door.

"Hm.  Well, thanks anyway for letting me blow you. If you ever want to do
it again just let me know," I replied, still idly stroking my hard on.

"Probably not," he said.

After a brief pause I plucked up and asked tentatively, "Um, could you
. . ." I faltered, looking down at my straining boner that bounced at pace
with my heart beat.

"No, dude.  I told you I'm not gonna blow you."

"I know.  I don't mean that, but could you like, just jerk me off?" He
looked at my dick incredulously. "Please?" I pleaded.

"Alright fine.  You better be fast though," he conceded, kneeling down in
front of me and taking my dick in his hand.  I was on fire letting him
stroke me, leaning back on my hands jutting my hips toward him, reveling in
the sensations.  My mind was racing and I was flexing my hips trying to
work myself to an orgasm.  I'd never cum in front of anyone before and I
wanted it to be him.  He was so hot, he was touching my dick, I just sucked
him off, I swallowed his cum.  I kept up this mantra, trying to coax my
orgasm out to no avail.  I opened my eyes and saw him looking out the
window, clearly bored.  I was embarrassed and knew I wasn't going to cum
anytime soon so I pulled away.

"Nevermind.  Don't worry about it.  I'm sorry," I said as I stood up, my
boner quickly subsiding.

"Whatever," he said, getting up and mumbling about having to pee as he left
the room.

I climbed into my bed feeling like a tool and pretty embarrassed about not
being able to cum and even dumber for asking him in the first place.  I was
still berating myself and had turned toward the wall when I heard Justin
come back in the room.  Not another word was shared that night as we both
went to sleep.  I was thinking of him, his dick, the shame of my last ditch
effort to jizz and the lingering tastes of his cum in my mouth.  I suspect
he was trying not to think about what he had just done with me judging by
the amount of tossing & turning I heard from his bunk.  Within an hour
though he had grown still and shortly afterward I fell asleep too.

As he requested, I never said a word.  As he promised, it never happened
again.  He was kind of an asshole to me after that, but not enough for me
to consider spilling the beans on him.  He left to go back home within a
few months anyhow.

As time passed a few new guys came as old ones cycled out, either going
home or to juvie.  I don't remember much about the guys who came and went
in those first few months, but one that I do remember is Jason.  He was 14
when he arrived, younger than me by a year.  A scrawny skater kid with
longish stringy hair and an impish face with a wide mischievous grin and
soft brown eyes.  He looked prepubescent, though his voice was cracky and
his hair and face were plenty oily, indicating the juices had begun to
flow.  I couldn't stand him right from the start: he was abrasive and
annoying, liked to be all up in your face and he had this invasive laugh
that he would cackle out while telling horrible stories like how his friend
fucked a chicken until it bled black stuff out of its asshole and then
died.  I steered clear of him and stuck to my room mostly, because he was
housed in one of the common area beds.  I swear to God I wanted to punch
his stupid face so many times in those first few weeks.  Yet, as weeks
crept by more guys left and no new ones came.  Our numbers dwindled
steadily until it was just Jason and I.  (I discovered later that Jason and
I were both "high risk" cases that paid enough that Pa could afford to have
just the two of us for a while).  I was left with no choice, aside from
complete isolation, but to hang out with him.  We started playing chess and
watching tv and playing video games together.  I eventually started
realizing he was kind of hot, I mean for a greasy annoying
fourteen-year-old psycho.  I didn't give any serious thought to screwing
around with him until one Saturday afternoon when I came out from doing
homework in my room to find him stroking off on the main couch in the
common room.  He paused just long enough for me to see his shockingly large
dick before pulling his track pants over it and brushing past me on his way
to the bathroom.

Needless to say, my interest was peaked and I was anxious to see more.
Being the two teenaged boys we were, it wouldn't be long at all before I
would have my anxiety thoroughly settled.

END CHAPTER ONE

Your feedback is welcomed and I will do my best to reply as quickly as
possible.  You can send comments or questions to argylemonkey3.5@gmail.com.
More to come...