From: FCPHAW@news.delphi.com (FCPHAW@DELPHI.COM)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: FCP: FINAL CORNEY DOGS  (m/m, minors)
Date: 25 Nov 1995 21:13:15 -0500
Organization: Delphi Internet Services Corporation
Lines: 223
Message-ID: <498ifr$ha9@news2.delphi.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: news2.delphi.com

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W  A  R  N  I  N  G !  !  !  !  !  !

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THIS FILE CONTAINS ADULT-ORIENTED MATERIAL. IF 
YOU ARE OFFENDED BY ADULT SEXUAL FICTION, EXIT 
THIS FILE NOW. IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 
EIGHTEEN (IN THE UNITED STATES) OR ARE UNDER 
THE LEGAL AGE IN YOUR COUNTRY TO READ 
SEXUALLY EXPLICIT MATERIALS, EXIT THIS FILE NOW 
AND DO NOT CONTINUE READING.




This file contains adult sexual fiction. Within can be found sexual 
activities and/or sexual situations involving adult males and/or 
females along with children, boys and/or girls, and sexual 
activities between children, boys and/or girls, and other children. 
Some files may contain sex and/or sexual situations between 
humans adults and/or children and animals.

If you or your community standards are offended by such 
material, exit now. If you do not wish to view files of this type, it 
is up to you to exit now. All characters in these files, unless 
otherwise noted in individual story lines, are fictional. They do 
not exist. Any resemblances between these actors and real people 
are purely coincidental.

FAN CHA PHAW is a small, Boston-based, publisher 
specializing in sexual freedom and amateur fiction zines. Stories 
are posted, from time to time, to the Internet as a service to 
readers who enjoy them. Fan Cha Phaw does not condone the 
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Ishmael Wilkins
FAN CHA PHAW


FAN CHA PHAW PRESENTS:





Corny Dogs.
by Mark Frisbee

Some folks are hooked on burgers, others liked tacos, but for 
me nothing is like a succulent juicy corny dog. You have the 
batter, and mustard, and then a hot wiener. Long wieners, short 
wieners, fat wieners, skinny wieners, wieners with cheese, and 
you always eat them end first. You stick them into your mouth, 
select the desired amount, apply a little pressure, and pop off 
the excess. I just have a thing for corny dogs.

Anyway, I liked to stop at the mall for a corny a dog and sit on 
a bench in the isle and eat it, watching the kids playing video 
games in an arcade across from the bench. It was a Saturday 
and the arcade was filled with high-school and junior-high sized 
kids as they blew their money on the high-tech baby sitters. 
Still, it wasn't completely wasted as I found it to be very 
entertaining as one ate a corny dog.

I was watching the guys twist their knobs, push their sticks, 
punch the buttons, turn their dials and all the other motions it 
must take to keep the purple peter eaters of the planet Zork from 
gobbling your goober. I call it the video ballet. It was certainly 
worth the admission price. The boys were absorbed in clearing 
the frontier of invaders from Borg forgetting the social graces 
about scratching and rearranging one's cock. They jiggled their 
little asses first tightening up one side then the other, now 
pulling their underwear out of their crack. The really fun part 
was watching them rearrange their dicks. At their age almost 
anything gave them a hard on and video games must have been 
very high on the list. It was the dance of the hard-ons.

I was noticing several prominent bulges but I kept coming back 
to this one boy. I was wise to the rise in his Levis. He was just 
some kid thrown out at the mall with a pocket full of quarters so 
his someone would not be bothered for a few hours. I had 
news for them, he was sure bothering me. I was sitting on the 
bench with a weinie dog in one hand and a summer sausage in 
my pants. The boy had moved to a machine directly across 
from me and was standing at a three quarter shot of his front. 
He was wearing fashion jeans that fit snug and were showing a 
nice firm ridge running from between his legs toward his left 
pocket. I guess dicks at this age must be part fly paper, because 
they stick to everything. He was repositioning his very 
prominent bulge to the right, then straight up, back to the left, I 
swear this could be set to music. I sure knew a little number I 
would like to do with it. Balls were creating somewhat of a 
problem too. Cut a bit short in the stride there buckeroo.

I looked up and down the walk way to see if anyone was 
noticing that I was sucking my corny dog. Oscar Meyer all beef 
jumbos, do it every time. slurp. smack. I tried to get my lap 
rearranged with out making it obvious I had taken all the slack 
out of my pleated pants. The boy was walking off and I was 
about to turn my attention else where when he paused at the rest 
room and praise Allah, he glanced back at me. I was sitting 
with my legs crossed and my hand in my lap. My eyes were 
riveted to him. The electricity crackled. I was no "Amazing 
Kreskin," but I could read his mind and I knew he had flipped a 
page or two of mine. He pushed open the door and I couldn't 
untangle my feet fast enough to bird dog after him.

As we entered the rest room the mirrors in front let me see 
under the stalls to check for feet. I was satisfied no one was 
there or at least they had no legs. He walked over to the urinal 
which was the long trough type. When I came up behind him I 
surveyed his slender build. He was small with two tight firm 
buns stuffed in outgrown pants. His nose would have fit nicely 
into the crease between my pectorals. I wanted to open his 
mouth and check his teeth. You can't be too careful judging 
prime horse flesh. This fresh and frisky colt had not long been 
on the range. I sure had an ache up high, between my big toes, 
that wanted to slip a saddle on this little mustang. When I pulled 
up beside him I could tell he was gonna be hung like a horse 
someday. Whoa big fellow, you definitely are a friend of Flika.

He had unbuttoned his pants and hauled it out over the top of 
the underwear he wasn't wearing. It was stiff and although he 
had his hand around it there was at least three or four inches 
sticking out above that. It was not real big in diameter but I 
knew his growing days were just starting. He pulled his pants 
into a vee and let his hands move to his side. His magnificent 
boyhood stood hard at attention like a cadet being reviewed by 
the head dick. He tensed it and rotated his pelvis and it bobbled 
like a band leaders baton conducting a polka. His wonder wand 
had a gentle curve upward that was topped with a perfect head. 
It was flared like a hooded cobra, a pink knob of a cyclops with 
its mischievous one eye. I had seen nothing like this since 
Jason and the Argonauts.

I glanced at his face and smiled and was greeted with a big grin 
in return. I looked at his fantastic piece of boneless tube steak 
then back in honest admiration. He gave me a John Wayne, "no 
brag, just fact" grin. What the hell, a little show and tell 
shouldn't hurt. I unzipped my pants and pulled them apart, 
noticeably using two hands to haul out the quarter pounder (no 
cheese). I must confess as appendages go, mine is 
extraordinary. I would have been a foot taller if I hadn't had so 
much pulled out of my middle to make a dick. I can use a two 
handed over the shoulder boner holder and the head still sticks 
out. I stroked mine a couple of times but my eyes never left the 
pink niblet beside me. I took a half step and turned to face him. 
He was waiting for me to make the first move so I reached my 
left hand out and around his prize. It was about the size of a 
quarter but long and definitely running a temperature. I moved 
up and down the shaft a few times letting the skin slide over the 
head. He had been cut but the doctor had generously left 
enough skin to pull forward making the red head wink an 
enticing peek-a-boo.

The youngster was fascinated with my industrial grade 
frankfurter looking up at him. He reached for it with both 
hands. I put my stroking on automatic and looked him over 
more closely. He had a new crop of pubic fuzz that was just 
coming in, not yet thick and fine as frogs hair. It was almost 
black, considerable darker than the tassel of hair he wore neatly 
brushed. His smoothness would soon take on the cut of muscle 
but for now was firm without the thickness his juices would 
soon start. I stood a good two foot taller than him, and when he 
looked up I could see a shyness the bravado had tried to hide. I 
knew the trolling was for the attention, and that he knew he had 
a gorgeous dick. It was only bait to get someone to give him the 
touching and caring, the caressing and holding he was really 
after. Still it was the damndest "night crawler" this old fish had 
seen in a long time. It sure brought out a urge to spawn. I knew 
what he wanted and I wanted it too. A few special hours that 
included caressing and hugging. A time for the heat before the 
ecstasy, and time to lay close, his smallness surrounded by my 
largeness. Those precious moments that are pure, when the 
mind is clear, the juices are spent, and we choose our words 
because they say how we really feel. A very tender time when 
our egos are fragile, not a time to be holding dicks in a john.

"What do you want me to call you?" I asked him. My voice was 
dry and a little raspy, I'm Dan I continued. I'm Josh, he 
answered in a voice that cracked slightly, vocal cords undecided 
which octave to get in. We had both glanced down to supervise 
the putting away of the family jewels. Tell you what Josh, why 
don't we drive through the golden arches and go to the park. 
I'd like to eat lunch with you if you have time. "Yeah, that's 
fine, I don't have to be anywhere anyway," he replied in a low 
voice and with a downcast expression.

We turned and walked out, hell, there wasn't anything I wanted 
washed off my hand anyway. Leaving the mall I put my arm on 
his shoulder and It felt just right. We pushed both doors open, 
cock of the walk, and headed for my van. I unlocked my door 
and hit the button to unlock his side. We climbed into the 
captain chairs and I reached over and put my hand on his leg. 

"I think meeting you is going to make me very happy," I said. 
Josh grinned and relaxed his leg in nonverbal agreement. I 
popped a casette of Creedence Clearwater Revival in the dash. 
Nobody but Fogerty could do Rollin' on a River. We were 
backing out but not backing away. 

God, how I love a corny dog.

The End



THIS IS A FINAL POSTING OF THIS STORY