Date: Sun, 17 Aug 2008 04:18:21 -0700 (PDT)
From: Tim Stillman <novemberhourglass@yahoo.com>
Subject: g/m adult/young friend "Cory's First Fuck"

			     Cory's First Fuck

				    By

			     Timothy Stillman

(For Cory, who asked, with love)

It was a cold rainy night in The City of Lights, and Cory, age 15, 5 ft. 5
inches, long thick yellow hair, willowy body, his green rimmed shades in
his left pocket of his Wrangler's-never be without his sunglasses...you
never knew when the sun would open up midnight and let some more happiness
in. In his jacket, his cell...never know when friends would call up...for
Cory was a tremendously cute boy who didn't know whether or not he liked
being called cute. He wore Spidey undies and the night said, hey you,
handsome, sweet faced dude, why not get out of the drizzly and take in a
flick?

So that was why he was here, horny, as always, ready to cum at the first
touch of his hand, experienced, but with a deep yearning to be penetrated
and to feel so close, closer than oral; he wanted sex this time; he wanted
his small boned bow-like body to be held and touched and he wanted his boy
pussy to be fucked; so he could say, yes, this is me, right? This is wot I
am and I am right and good and still funny...still the sweet clown dancing
round...but I want it in me for sure, so I take in a Saturday midnight
movie and I sit right down by someone-him?

Don't look. Don't cheat the eyes with the shadow sitting beside you. But a
guy's got a boner and its dark in here and a guy can't be blamed for
putting his hand down his jeans and just petting his cock a little, the
head of the 5.2 incher that happened to be laying right at Spidey's greedy
mouth per chance and leaning back, Cory, in the hard seat with his body
nicely arched and a lean glance at the shadow beside him. And a glance back
at Cory at the same instant.

Rush hand out of Wrangler's and away from Spidey's feast of the night,
cough politely in one hand, pay attention to the shadow show on the
screen. And then. Interminable seconds, minutes, and years, a hand...a
man's hand, big and warm and full of fingers touched Cory's thin left leg
and Cory stopped breathing. He sucked in his stomach almost to his backbone
and he felt his tits grow hard as little berries. No, come on, now, he
thought, don't let this be a joke...be a kind of little laugh; oh no, the
hand dropped like a large weight on his jeans crotch.

He felt his hard on go ballistic. There is sticky gum under my butt on this
sticky seat, his mind said. Cory brushed the thought away. He spread his
legs and the man's hand reached and rubbed and the man whispered in Cory's
ear, hot and sexual breath and words, "unbuckle, unzip." As in a trance,
Cory did just that and was pants open and Spidey exposed with that
wonderful pole of Cory's sticking straight up. His balls hurt, they were so
tight, and his foreskin was aching to be pulled down, to be Cory unpeeled.

The man took Cory's trembling hand and put it on the man's cock, already
jeans unzipped, no underwear, right there on that big cock that Cory felt
with amazement, thinking I want you to be the one. I want you to undress me
and kiss me and love me and hold me and know that wherever you go, after
me, I will be imprinted for always in your mind like a photograph that will
never fade. Love is true here. In Paris. The language the man spoke was
with his hand as it slipped into the boy's undies, as it touched and
measured, as Cory moaned, in as far as he could tell an empty theatre, save
for them.

"Anything you want," the man said, as Cory took a chance and looked at him
in the glow light of the projection of the film and the film itself as it
danced light and dark on them. He had a tentative smile on his face, the
man. He had eyes that seemed, can't say for sure, that were kind, and boy
and man looked at each other as they bucked in rhythm to masturbating one
another.

As Cory came in the man's hand and all over the kiddie undies, as the man
came in Cory's boy grip tight and hard, Cory smiled at him, a crumbly sweet
smile of a boy who needed this thing more than ever now. "I want," he
panted, in orgasmic heaven, "for you to put your man cock up my arsehole
and fill me with all the cum you have in you." At that, Cory's love pole
and the man's as well were getting hard again.

"Zip and buckle," the man said, his voice commanding, but not overbearing
or rude, "I know just the place." So they zipped and buckled, their hands
wet with each other, and they left the theater to an audience of empty as
the charlatan life on the screen continued on, to no eyes at all. The man
was wearing Gap clothing and had put on a Burberry coat, buttoning it
against the wind. He was maybe in his thirties. He had long brown hair. He
was tall. His body was rangy and well-muscled. He walked easily and put his
long arm round Cory, drawing him to his side, protecting him as best he
could from the cold rain and harsh wind and the city of night flowed on.

The hotel room was small and overheated. The bidet was broken. The
wallpaper was brown and some of it was torn. But the bed was nice and
seemed out of place. It had white clean sheets and a brown coverlet. And
the light was glowy orange from the ceiling bulb. The night was quiet and
traffic nil. And the man whispered to the boy he held and began stripping
with delicacy the boy's clothes off his delicious body. The man too was
naked now. A little over 6 incher, nice pubes, a bit of chest hair, a face
that was handsome, with big liquidy black eyes. They held tight. Their
erections against each other.

The man looked at Cory all over. Touched. Marveled. He luxuriated in the
presence of this lovely golden young boy and said to him as he licked
Cory's neck and down to his erection, "You are going to break a million
hearts. You are translucent. You will make boys and men jump into the Seine
when you have gone from them. Left and Right Bank and all through the
town. You will cut a swathe of love and sex and being wanted wherever you
go."


Their chests together as they deep throated each other, sucking like life's
elixir on each other's tongues, as the man pushed with gentle stair step
degrees the boy to the bed, and suddenly Cory was himself, individual, with
the long naked legs and the chewable narrow butt, and the cell phone in his
pocket rang. The man and boy looked at each other as "Crazy Car" tune
played. Then they laughed. The man said "The Naked Brothers Band...Nat and
Alex Wolff" and the boy smiled a knowing smile, it was going to happen-he
wasn't too young...not too old...just right...then Cory searched in the
thrown to the floor clothes, to his cell, picked it up and clicked it off.

"You like young boys, mister?" Cory asked, sweetly. Playing a tune in his
head. Alex was hot. And so were the man and boy.

"I love young boys...ah..." The man rubbed Cory's hard on as he helped the
boy kneel on the bed on his hands and knees.

"Cory," the golden elf boy said, as he bent his head and arched his back,
as the man put on a condom. Spread some cream on it, then some cream on his
arsehole.

"Cory," the man said, with his French words and loving lilting accent, as
the wind hammered at the poorly sealed window, the cold getting in now and
the room getting less hot. "..Have you ever been fucked before?" Cory
didn't say a word. Didn't move. "Well," the man said, "it's going to hurt
some. But I'll stop when you want me to." Cory nodded, suddenly unsure of
this, then yes, he wanted it so much, and he would suffer any pain for
it...any at all.

Begin.

Cock at boy pussy. Cory holding head down, blood rushing to it, as the man
spread the young boy's legs apart further and entered the man cock into the
muscle of Cory's virgin no more boy hole, and it made Cory shiver, it made
the man hold Cory's hips tighter, so kitchen stove hot there, as the boy
felt himself penetrated, as the cock's mushroom head flared in him. Cory
whimpered. The man stopped. "No, no," Cory panted, "Keep going" as the man
pushed another bit into Cory's most private, most secret place, as he felt
his muscles, his skin pull back and up and out at the unfamiliar
feeling. Different than a finger. Different than a vibrator. Real
skin. Real flesh. Real cock.

The man pushing into the hot tight hole and up to the love muscle just up
ahead, as the boy broke into a sweat and the man held him round his waist
as the cock went further and the man thought I can feel my heart breaking
already, and with that he said, "Ready, Spiderman?" Cory managed a nod. He
was breathing as hard as the man. It hurt, it felt massive inside him, even
a six incher should not feel massive inside his little boy hole, but it
felt gigantic, like pain of a toothache felt huge and made his mouth the
size of his body, it seemed. Oh God mister, Cory thought, his body wrapped
in a cock, the cock wrapped in him.

Then he closed his eyes and saw immense red. The vein in his head and neck
almost erupted. Then he gathered his will and strength and said best he
could, his eyes leaking, "F-f-fuck me, Mister." Which the man began to do,
as Cory naked child on his knees and arms and hands felt that first shove,
like a whole hand was in there, and Cory became not himself for a while, he
became the world, he became pain, he became fire, he became a dancing star
of opal in the bright night air.

Everything in him was full. The man's cock was fucking him
now. Fucking. Like he was a man himself. Fucking and screaming both man and
boy. Fucking in and out and nothing existed but his little boy arsehole and
the cock of a man whose name he was never to know, fucked in and out and
made fire life and pleasure quench the fire, and the man on his knees
fucked the boy in and out and the boy's hard on detumesced as his penis and
balls flapped back and forth and the man's balls hit Cory's arse and there
was only the work of sexuality, as there was the work of the boy pushing
his arse to the man's cock and somehow the man getting even deeper and
rubbing the love muscle that sent out spasms of feelings through the boy he
had never known before existed and the man fucked harder and harder and
said "Cory, I love you." And said, breathless, "Cory, remember me," and the
boy's head was a hive filled with bees buzzing so madly about.

And the man stopped at once...no, Cory thought, begged, no don't stop,
don't pull out. The man fucked deeply...once twice three...then the cum
emitted, exploded, the cum rushed into Cory and he felt the man cock
pulsating and cumming and the cum inside his boy pussy filling with life
and love and adventure and the first time of many and it hurt, his hole was
raw and the spunk fired against that rawness. Then after more cums, then
after the cock had finally spent itself, Cory fell to his stomach, as the
man fell on the back of the beautiful golden child.

Then Cory turned over as the man got up to take off his cum filled
condom. Cory was angry. He hadn't known. He had thought the man had bare
backed him. He had imagined the cum in him. The man disposed of the
condom. Then he lay down with the boy who was happy again. He had finally
been fucked. He had finally been made love to.  He curled like a kitten
against the protective naked man body. And purred. They slept a bit, and
then woke to coming dawn, the lights of the sky mingling with the lights of
the city. They kissed. They dressed. They left to have croissants and
chocolate at a street café. They touched each other's faces and they
laughed and talked and the boy thanked the man and the man thanked the boy,
saying, "You taught me much, Cory."

Cory was puzzled. "But I'm a little kid, how can I teach a man anything?"

The man smiled cryptically and finished his croissant. He stood up, put
money on the small rickety table and said, "My Cory." And he smiled
sadly. Touched Cory's cheek with his left hand. Then he turned and went on
his way. Cory's bum was sore as hell. But it had been worth it. He headed
to home, head full of excuses to explain his absence. He turned back to
look at the man in the Burberry coat, as the man turned a corner a block
away, then was gone. And Cory said to no one in particular, "I wanted you
to stay. You could have. You still can."  No wonder the man was alone. "I
love you," he said to the man and the memory. Then he walked all the way
home and dawn in the city had never and would never be the same to him
again.


The pavements were still wet from last night's rain. The air was still
cold. But the rising sun in its majesty was already burning the rain from
the sidewalks and the streets. He had much to contemplate and set about
doing so.