Date: Wed, 07 Apr 2010 23:46:09 -0400
From: whitewold999@icqmail.com
Subject: Enema Boy (gay/adult youth, oral, anal, enema, b/M)

DISCLAIMER:

This story is a work of fiction and contains descriptions of explicit sexual
acts of boy's discovering their sexuality.  It contains graphic scenes of
sex between an underage boy and adult males...  If this type of content
offends you or you are under the age of 18 do not read it.

Author's Note:

This story is the property of the author. It can be downloaded for
personal reading pleasure or sending to a friend, but if you wish to re-
post them at your own site, please contact the author for permission.

If it is illegal to read such material where you live or if you find the topic
distasteful the please leave now.  If you enjoy the story or if it evokes
memories of your own, please let me know.  I am happy to write stories
from outlines.

Copyright 2010 Wolf, All rights reserved.

You may contact me at whitewold999@icqmail.com if you like.  All
flames will be ignored.

                                  Enema Boy
                                     By
                              Wolf and Friend

	It was about ten in the morning 1952.  I was heading home from
the park, and it was starting to rain.  It was promising to be a deluge.
The sky was black and there was thunder in the distance.  The longer I
walked the more the rain was increasing to come down.  The gutters
were filling up and running down the street to a backed up drain.
Crossing intersections was forcing me to wade through ankle deep cold
water.

	A car pulled up to the curb and the horn honked.  When I looked
at the car I saw a new two tone dark blue and white Buick Special as the
passenger door window was lowering, I looked through the open
window and saw an older man dressed in a business suit.  He looked like
he was going to work but he looked old enough to be retired.  I felt safe
talking to him.  I suspected that he was about to ask me for directions.

	He leaned across the bench seat and said, "Hi, sonny.  Why don't
you let me take you wherever you're going?  You are going to be soaked
by the time you get wherever you're headed."

	"Sure, thank you for the offer," I said, and ran to the car.  He had
already opened the door.  I stepped into the car and closed the door
behind me.  He asked, "Where are you headed?"

	"I was headed home because of the rain, Sir."

	"You're a polite boy, aren't you?" the man said.  "I like it when
children call me Mister and say yes sir and no sir."

	"Yes, sir," I wanted to please him because he was giving me a
lift.

	"My name is Mister Smith," as the man put the car in gear and
pulled away from the curb.

	"My name is Timmy, Mister Smith," I said, as a magazine sitting
on the seat between us caught my eye.

	Mr. Smith laughed, "Don't worry about the magazine.  Go ahead,
take a look at it.  When I was your age, I would have loved to get my
hands on a magazine like that.  Don't be embarrassed.  Go on, pick it up
and look at it."

	"Okay," I said and picked it up.  I was about to open it.

	Mr. Smith said, "Address me a sir boy.  Where do you live,
Timmy?"

	"I live about a mile away, turn left at the second light down
there, sir"

	I was thumbing through the magazine and got a ragging stiffy,
looking at the naked ladies, none of the pictures showed any pussies,
they were just pretty naked models with big tits.  I looked back at Mr.
Smith.

	"You know I have got a lot of magazines at my house.  They
have pictures of naked girls having sex with boys like you.  It's too bad
you have to go home."

	"Uh, actually, I only live with my mom.  She is at work, and
won't be home until five o' clock.  My dad died in the War."

	"Sorry to hear about your father," Mr. Smith said, as he reached
over to pat me on the knee of my wet jeans.

	"Thanks, sir" I said.

	"Well, you might as well come over and take a look at those
magazines with me.  I'll take you home anytime you want."

	I thought the invitation was a little strange, but my peepee was
telling me to accept it.  "Okay, yeah, sure.  Thank you, Mr. Smith."
remembering to be polite.  I sat back as Mr. Smith drove to the other side
of town.

	It was a more affluent neighborhood.  It was a mixture of well
kept older homes and new modern homes that had replaced older houses.
The strange thing was that he told me to duck down as we turned a
corner.  "I just don't want my neighbors to see me taking a young boy
into my house," even though the hard rain had cleared the streets.

	"Is that okay," as I bent over in the seat.

	"That's just fine, Timmy."

	We pulled into a garage, but as he instructed, I stayed down until
Mr. Smith got out of the car and closed the garage door.  I sat up when
he told me it was okay.  He even opened the passenger door and led me
to the connecting door to his house.  We entered the house through the
kitchen.  He motioned for me to sit down at the table.  I noticed that the
blinds were closed (he planned it that way, I'm sure).  I had only a vague
idea where we were.

	He stopped in the kitchen.  "Just make yourself comfortable,"
while he got out two glasses and a carton of milk.  He opened a pantry
and retrieved a fresh package of chocolate-chip cookies.  He brought the
package to the table and told me, "Help yourself, Timmy."

	"Thank you, sir."  I took one of the cookies, as he poured several
cookies on the plate.  He smiled at me, before returning to the kitchen
counter to pour a couple of glasses of milk.  When he returned, he placed
one glass in front of me.

	"It's nice to be in a warm cozy house on a cold wet day like this,"
he said.

	I responded without thinking, "Yeah."

	"Remember son, to say 'sir.'  I like polite boys."

	"I'm Sorry, sir."

	"Just like the army," Mr. Smith said with laugh.  "So how old are
you, Timmy?"

	"Eleven," I said, nervously, but feeling safe around the kindly
man that could have been my grandfather.  Both of my grandfathers
were still alive.  My mind was fixed on the naked pictures.

	We talked for a half an hour, casually about things like school,
before Mr. Smith said, "OH!, I almost forgot about the naked pictures.
Do you still want to see them?"

	I got nervous and swallowed before responding.  "Yeah, I
guess," then added, "Yeas, sir."

	"Good boy, I think it is great that you remembered your position.
I'm the adult with the authority, and you're the child.  Right?" he said.

	"Yes, sir."

	"Good.  Have another cookie, while I get that box I was telling
you about."

	He moved his chair back and stood up, he headed for another
room.  A short time later he returned with a large cardboard box.  He sat
it on the table.  From where I was sitting, I could not see inside the box.

	"Now Timmy, before I show you any of these pictures, we need
to make a deal.  You have to promise me that you will never, and I mean
never, tell anyone that I brought you here, or that I showed you these
pictures.

	"I promise that I'll never tell anyone about what you show me,
sir!"

	"Even your best friend?"

	"Even my best friend," sir!

	"Okay, let's shake on it, word of honor, Okay."

	"Yes, sir," I said, as I took his hand and shook it.

	After that gesture, Mr. Smith reached into the box.  "Now these
pictures of a young girl that I entertain sometimes, is named Sally and
she is ten." He said, as he handed me a large 8X10 photograph of a dark
hared girl in a yellow dress.  She was a little plump but a very pretty girl.
She had a sweet smile on her face.

	"She is pretty, isn't she," Mr. Smith said.

	"Yes, sir," I said, while I wondered what he rest of the pictures
showed.  I already had a painful stiffy, anticipating what they would
reveal.

	"This one is even prettier," he said, as he handed me the next
picture.

	I couldn't believe my eyes.  It showed the same girl standing
completely naked with her legs spread wide.  Her pussy slit was clearly
visible, of course at her age, she was too young to have any pubic hair.  It
was just a puffy bald vulva with a slit in the middle.

	"Nice, uh, Timmy," Mr. Smith asked.

	"Yes, sir."

	"Now have a look at this one."

	The third picture showed the girl standing with her back to the
camera with her legs apart, looking over her shoulder.  She was smiling as
she reached back with both hands to spread her butt cheeks, showing off
her hairless pussy slit and hairless asshole.  I almost choked as I
swallowed.  I had never imagined such pictures existed.  It was all so
new and strangely exciting.

	"You know, Timmy," Mr. Smith said, breaking my fixation on
every detail of the picture.  "If you are a good boy, I could bring you
here to meet Sally sometime.  She does like taking off her clothes and
showing off.  What do you think of that idea?"

	"Yeah, sure, yes sir, that would be great," I said as my stiffy
pressed against my pants.

	"You're a lucky boy, Timmy," Mr. Smith said.  "You can even
touch her and have her suck on your pepee."  He handed me another
picture, this one showed Sally kneeling in front of Mr. Smith.  She had is
stiff peepee in her mouth.

	"Just like that, do you think you would like that?" he asked.

	"Oh, yes, sir."

	"Good, can you come over on Thursday?"

	"I agreed quickly with a "Yes, sir."

	"Okay, this is our deal," he said, taking a magazine out of the box
with an unbelievable cover picture.

	"Man and Boy." It said and the glossy picture showed a big cock
protruding from the bottom of the magazine with a boy's head behind it.
The cock looked as large as the boy's head.  Mr. Smith handed it to me
as he said, "Go ahead and open it."

	I did as I was told.  The first page had a picture of an old man
dressed like a doctor.  He had a white smock over a suit and tie.  At his
side was a naked boy about my age.  The boy had a stiffy, with no hair
around his crotch.  (I had no idea that this magazine was meant for the
seduction of young boys like me.)  It was made to look like a medical
journal.

	The caption read, "Mr. Paul is going to teach Johnny how to play
nasty."

	Mr. Smith was excited as he said, "Go ahead and turn the page."

	"Yes, sir," I said, as I turned the page.  The boy was standing
with his back to the man, and the man had his arms around the boy
playing with his peepee.

	Mr. Smith said, "I bet the boy likes what Mr. Paul is doing.
Don't you think so?"

	"Uh, yes, sir."

	"Go on read the caption.  Read it out loud."

	"Okay.  Uh, Mister Paul and Johnny are friends.  When Johnny is
older, he'll like playing nastily with girls, but for now he is learning how
to play nastily from a nice old friend.  Johnny is a lucky boy. If you are a
boy reading about Johnny, then you should do the same things with the
man that gave you this magazine.  Be a good boy and obey him.  You
will have a lot of fun."

	I glanced at Mr. Smith.  I knew that my parents had told me to
run from men like him, but my knees felt weak.  I didn't even think I
could stand up.  I also was fascinated with the unbelievable photographs.
I swallowed and felt my peepee move in my pants.

	Mr. Smith smiled, "Go on, Timmy, look at the next page and read
the caption."

	I turned the page, I'm sure that my eyes bulged.  The boy was
now kneeling in front of the man, as he sat in a chair with his legs draped
over the arms of the chair.  The boy had the man's cock in his mouth.

	While I was staring at the picture, Mr. Smith coughed, "Go
ahead, Timmy, read the caption."

	"Johnny," I said, not believing what I was seeing and reading,
"likes to suck on Mr. Paul's cock.  It makes Johnny's peepee stiff and
feeling wonderful.  Johnny is young, so his penis is called a 'peepee.'
Mr. Paul's penis is called a 'cock.'  Remember to let the old man take
charge.  You're the boy, and he's the adult.  Always be polite and an
obedient boy!"

	By that time I was so hot that I was sweating, even though it was
not all that warm in the house.  My stiffy was straining against the fabric
of my jeans.  I took another look at Mr. Smith and swallowed the lump
in my throat.

	"You know, Timmy," Mr. Smith said, "that could be us.  Can you
imagine having someone like me touching your stiff peepee or having my
cock in your mouth?  Believe me, you'd like it.  I would shower with
soap and water first."

	I didn't know what to say.  I must have nodded my head.

	"You know," Mr. Smith said, breaking the silence, "there is
nothing wrong with playing nasty.  It's very common for an old man,
such as myself, to introduce a boy to the subject.  Later, the boy will
want to play nasty with girls, but at you age, they often start with an old
man."

	"They do?" I asked with my eyes fastened on the picture of the
naked boy with the man's cock in his mouth.

	"Oh, yes, Timmy.  Sometimes it's with an uncle, or a neighbor.
The boy mows the man's lawn and goes inside to get paid, and winds up
playing nasty."

	"Oh," I said.

	"A lot of boys your age have been molested by old men.  That is
what it is called, being molested, or playing nasty.  Have you ever been
molested before?"

	"No, sir," my face felt warm.

	"Then it is about time.  You're a lucky boy to meet a man like me,
who is willing to teach you all about playing nasty.  What do you say?
Do you want me to molest you?"

	I hesitated and swallowed before I answered, "Yes, sir!"

	"Go on, ask me then, Say, please, molest me, sir."

	"Please molest me,"

	"Okay, but first understand, I'm a nice man who would never
hurt you, so just go with what you feel.  I won't tell anyone."

	"You won't?" I asked.

	"Never, Mr. Smith said, offering his hand.  "If you agree to play
nasty, I'll let you meet Sally.  Let's shake on it.  That'll be my word and
yours too.  You can never tell anyone either."

	"Okay, I said, shaking hands for the second time.

	"Good, now stand up in front of me, and I'll pull down your
pants.  I'll teach you what it means to be molested."

	I did as I was told and watched as Mr. Smith unbuttoned my
jeans, he tugged them down my legs.  My stiffy, was about the size of a
man's index finger.  It had my underwear tented out in front of my
body.

	"Well, that's a peepee to be proud of," Mr. Smith said, pulling
down my shorts.  He reached for it and took hold of it with a couple of
fingers and his thumb.  He started pulling on it gently.  Just having a
strange hand touching me down there gave me the strangest feeling I had
ever felt.

	"Ah," I sighed.

	"Do you like that?" he asked.

	"Yes, sir," I said, as I panted.

	It's a wonderful feeling, isn't it?"

	"Yes, sir," I said, as I squirmed.

	"Do you know what else feels good?"

	"What?" I asked with bated breath.

	"If I put on a slick rubber glove and grease it up, before I gently
push my finger into your butt-hole.  It would feel good too.  Would you
like that?"

	"Yes, sir," I was trying to picture what he was talking about.

	"Okay, while I'm getting ready, you can look at the picture
again," pointing to the picture of the man sitting in the chair with the
cute boy kneeling between his legs, sucking on his cock.  "Let's go in the
bathroom, so I can wash my cock with plenty of soap and water.  I want
to be nice and clean.  Then I'll teach you to be a good cocksucker.  What
do you think about that?"

	"Okay," as I picked up the photo to take with me.

	"Good boy, now kick off your shoes, leave your pants and shorts
on the floor along with your jacket and shirt, and follow me."

	I did as I was told, without question.  I walked naked from the
dining area down the hall with him to the bathroom.  When we were
inside he closed the door and locked it.  There was a red enema bag
hanging on the back of the door with a red tube plugged into it and
wrapped around the hook.

	My mother had given me enemas before.  I knew what the bag
was for.  It had given me mixed feelings.  I didn't like the feeling caused
by the water filling up my colon and stretching it.  I had begged my
mother to pull it out because my tummy was full.  But when she allowed
me to sit on the toilet and release the dirty water in one big splash it felt
strangely good.

	Mr. Smith quickly undressed.  After hanging up his clothes he
started playing with his cock.  It did seem awfully big, but it was
probably a normal size.  He opened the glass door to the shower and
stepped into it.  I watched him wash the lower half of his body.  I had to
step back to allow him to get out and dry himself.  He put on a terrycloth
robe before he sat down on the lid of the toilet seat.  He allowed the robe
to fall away from his legs exposing his cock.

	"Okay, Timmy, kneel in front of me!"

	I followed orders without question.  As I kneeled between his
legs I rested my hands on his muscular thighs and looked at his erect
cock.  It was mesmerizing.  The open pee-hole looked like a one eyed
monster.  The size of the head made doubt that I could get it in my
mouth.  I felt weak and powerless.  I had never seen a man with an
erection before.

	"Now open your mouth, Timmy, and pull your lips over your
teeth, like this," as he showed me what to do.  "Keep your lips over your
teeth so that you don't scrape the tender skin of my cock with your
teeth.  What you need to do is milk it with your mouth.

	I followed his instruction to the letter.

	"Good Timmy.  Now to be a good cocksucker, you have to get it
in your mouth as far as you can and suck on it like you suck on a straw.
Milk it for all your worth.  Can you do that for me?"

	"Yes, sir," I saw a drop of clear liquid form at the opening of his
cock.

	"Good, that clear stuff is not pee," as he wiped the clear fluid off
with a piece of tissue.  "A man can't pee when he's got a stiff cock.  Go
ahead and suck it!"

	Even though I was a boy, I knew what a cockhead looked like,
but it was strange to see what a man's cockhead looked like up close and
erect.  I opened my mouth like I was told and leaned over his lap above
his cock.  Mr. Smith placed his hand on the back of my neck and gently
pulled my head down.  It felt strange.  His flesh was smooth, hot and
rubbery.

	"That's good, boy, he said; now look up at me, Timmy."

	I looked up into Mr. Smith's eyes.  He had a smile on his face
and took a deep breath.

	Ah, very good, Timmy.  That's where a child's mouth belongs."

	He liked to use words like 'child' 'boy' and 'youth' a lot.  Years
later I realized he was making sure I knew he was in charge.  His
message was clear.  I was the child and he was the adult with the power.
I needed to do whatever he wanted.  I needed to be a good boy.  That
was what it was all about.  You have to remember I was also one horny
little fucker myself.  My peepee was sticking straight up and was so stiff
that it hurt.

	I was bobbing my head up and down as I sucked on his cock for
a few minutes.  Mr. Smith pushed me away.  "Timmy," he said firmly, "I
need to get my finger up inside your rectum, but first I need to give you
an enema."

	I was reluctant to agree to get an enema, I could not defy Mr.
Smith.  I knelt on the tile floor of the bathroom, face down with my butt
in the air, while he filled the bottle with warm water.  I noticed that on
the end of the tube was a strange looking nozzle.  It looked like a black
plastic cock.  He greased it up and then stuck a greasy finger up my ass.
He stuck the nozzle into me and released the clamp.  I felt the water
filling me up until the lower part of my belly felt like it was hurting.  I
begged him to stop.  He assured me, "Just a little more."

	He made me stay there awhile after he clamped the tube off.  He
helped me up and sat me on the toilet just in time.  I felt the dirt water
splash up and get my butt wet.  It was a relief to get it out.  Mr. Smith
was filling the bag again.  He made me assume the position again and
repeated the enema again.  After I eliminate the second time and stood
up the toilet water was almost clear.

	Mr. Smith got in the shower with me and washed me very
carefully.  While I was finishing drying off, Mr. Smith left the room,
only to return with another glossy magazine.  He sat it face down on the
toilet seat.  He bent me over and stuck a finger up my ass.  He was
shoving his finger in and out of me until his fist was slamming into my
sphincter.  He finger fucked my ass until my little boner was swinging
back and forth between my legs.  When I thought I could not stand it
anymore he withdrew his finger and stood me up in front of him as he
picked up the magazine, so he could sit sown.  He showed me the cover.

	"Rectum Sex," was the title, "By Dr. William P. Arnold."

	Mr. Smith opened to the first page.  It looked like all of his
magazines had the same theme.  A doctor like man dressed in a suit and
medical smock, standing next to a naked preteen boy.

	"Read the caption, he told me.

	I took a deep breath. "Uh, Hello, I'm Doctor Arnold, and I've
just given Tommy, the boy at my side, three enemas.  This was all
preparation for his first anal sex experience, butt fucking or corn-holing.
I will demonstrate various ways to fuck a boy in the ass. Remember to
use copious amounts of lubrication, both on your cock and in the boy's
rectum.  Take it slow and be gentle with him, but be firm.  But first let's
discuss enemas."

	He said, "Turn the page and continue reading out loud!"

	The next picture showed Dr. Arnold holding a bulging hot water
bag with a red enemas tube attached.  It had a thick black nozzle like a
cock, just like the one Mr. Smith had used on me.  He was standing
facing the same naked boy, who had a sick look on his face.  The boy
was looking at the enema bag the same way I had looked at the one Mr.
Smith had used on me.

	"Read the caption," he commanded.

	I swallowed again, "Okay.  Uh, in any relationship with a young
boy, it is very important that you establish and maintain your authority.
You are the adult, and he is the child.  It is important that the child
understand that you have the authority and know how to use it.  The
enema bag is an intimidation devise to insure compliance with your will."

	"For example, I have just announced to Tommy that I am going
to give him an enema.  Tommy knows that his enema is not negotiable,
and I always drain the bag.  You will notice that Tommy has a stiffy,
because I molested him after I finished giving him the enemas.  That is
important too, it will make the child weak and compliant to your will.
The more dependent he is the better.  It is all about control and authority.

	Tommy's mother had enlisted my help.  She sends him to visit me
once a week for treatments.  She understands that he will receive enemas
and have his rectum stretched as a form of discipline.  Tommy
understands that non-compliance from his mother or me will result in
severe punishment."

	"The purpose of the enemas is to humiliate the boy and clean his
rectum.  It's pretty hard to be proud when you're helpless as your colon
is being filled with water.  Now look carefully at the next series of
photographs and notice Tommy's tummy swelling.

	In the following pictures showed Tommy on his hands and knees
with his butt in the air.  The pictures showed the bag being deflated.
When the boy stood up with the hose still in his butt, you could see his
lower tummy distended.  A picture of Tommy standing sideways made
him look like a starving African child, the way his tummy bulged out.
Dr. Arnold was standing behind him holding up the empty enema bag.
The hose was still inserted between the boy's white bottom cheeks.  I
continued reading the captions, and studying the individual pictures.

	"Now," Dr. Arnold said, "Do you think Tommy is thinking about
anything besides his enema?  Of course not, and who controls his
thoughts?  I did, I am the one with the authority.  I'm the one with the
power.  What we have here is an enema compliant child.  As the
dominate male in the relationship, I am his master.  I enjoy Tommy's
begging for relief.  He promises to do anything just to sit on the toilet.
I'm sure the following pictures will inspire you to master your young
boys.

	The following pages were illustrated with an interview between a
Mr. Wilson (the interviewer) and Tommy.

	"Tommy, Dr. Arnold hired me to interview you about your
feelings.  What is your name?"

	"Tommy Moore... ah, sir," I said.

	'How old are you, Tommy?"

	"Eleven-years-old, sir"

	"Do you have any hair around your crotch or asshole?"

	"No, sir," I said.

	"So you are still a child?"

	"Yes, sir."

	Do you like being called a child?"

	"No, sir, but..."

	"But what?"

	"But Doctor Arnold says that's my position.  I'm the child and he
is the adult."

	"I see.  Now tell me how you became Dr. Arnold's patient."

	"My mother brought me to see Doctor Arnold," he hesitated."

	"Why did your mother bring you to Dr. Arnold?  Tommy, answer
my questions or I will tell Dr. Arnold."

	Tommy pleaded, "No, don't tell, please.  It was because my
mother caught me playing with my peepee."

	"Was your mother very angry?"

	"Yes, sir, she said that it was the worst thing I could do.  She
said that I was disgracing her, and had to be cured of my behavior."

	"Did she give Dr. Arnold complete authority to deal with you
playing with your peepee?"

	"Yes, sir.  I have to see Doctor Arnold every Monday.  I'm
allowed to miss school because it takes so long for my treatment.  My
teachers give me homework on Friday for me to work on to make up for
the day I miss."

	"I see.  Now tell me exactly what Dr. Arnold did to you at the
first treatment?"

	"Uh, he took off my clothes and had me take a shower.  Then he
had me put back on my white crew socks."

	"Why did you have to wear socks?"

	"It actually makes me feel even more naked."

	"Did that make you feel more embarrassed?"

	"Yes, sir, it was awful."

	"Then what did he do?"

	"He played with my peepee until I was stiff.  To remind me why
I was there," he said.

	"So, he molested you?"

	"Yes, sir.  To hum..."

	"To what?"

	"To humiliate me," he responded.

	"Having a stiff peepee in front of Dr. Arnold embarrassed you?"

	"Yes, sir."

	"Now, Tommy, I'm your interviewer, but what if I were to
molest you?"

	"I can't say no to any of Doctor Arnold's friends.

	"Why is that?"

	'Because he'll spank my ass hard if I refuse to please his friends.
He expects me to be obedient to any adult I meet at the clinic."

	"So, I could strip you and make you hold my cock in your
rectum?"

	"Yes, sir, but please, please don't."

	"We'll talk about that later.  Now what did Dr. Arnold do after
you had a stiff peepee?"

	"He gave me three enemas."

	"Tell me what you mean by the word enema."

	"Uh, he has a rubber bag...a hot water bottle...with a hose
attached to it, and a thick nozzle.  The bag is full of water."

	"And?"

	"And then he greased up my...my butt-hole...and pushed the
nozzle up inside of me.  Then he empties the water into my tummy."

	"So that's what an enema is?"

	"Yes sir."

	"Did you like those enemas?"

	"Well it did feel good until the water made my belly swell.  That
was when it began to hurt.  I didn't like that."

	"Did you cry?"

	"Yes sir.  I cried and begged him to stop the water."

	"Did he stop the water?"

	"Not until the bag was empty.  He made he hold it until I almost
let go, before he allowed me to sit on the toilet.  He did the same thing
two more times."

	"What does your tummy look like when it is full of water?"

	"It looks like I am about to have a baby."

	"So, the enemas are not just fun and games?"

	"No, sir, the doctor wants me to be afraid of getting enemas.  He
wants to see me humiliated by the enemas.  He wants my rectum clean
for his cock."

	"What does Dr. Arnold call you?"

	"I'm his 'little enema boy' or 'cock hole' when he is fucking me."

	"How do you feel about coming to see Dr. Arnold ever week?"

	"Uh, I get weak kneed."

	'So when you come to Dr. Arnold's office, you are afraid of
what he will do to you?"

	"Yes, sir, he can do whatever he wants to me."

	'So, Dr. Arnold does stick his stiff cock up your rectum?'

	"Yes, every week.  It's to loosen up my asshole.  It's part of my
discipline training.  He tells me that I am learning to be a boy toy."

	"What does your asshole look like after you have been fucked by
Dr. Arnold?"

	"I have seen it in a mirror.  It looks red and swollen, and the hole
is almost as large as his cock."

	"So your tight little asshole doesn't look like a normal asshole
after you have been fucked?"

	"No, sir, it is a gaping hole."

	"How long does it say that way?"

	"Uh...about an hour before it relaxes."

	"Now tell me Tommy, did you have any enemas today?"

	"Yes sir...three."

	"Did, Dr. Arnold also grease your bottom?"

	"Yes sir."

	"What happens when you have three enemas and your rectum is
greased up?"

	"I get fucked."

	"Dr. Arnold told you that he was not going to fuck you today."

	Tommy swallowed, "Oh, yah."

	"You know that I am an old friend of Dr. Arnold's?"

	"Yes, sir."

	"Yes, and Dr. Arnold told me that after our interview, I could
use your rectum."

	Tommy looked at me with pleading eyes, "Please don't."

	"Do you know how good it feels for an old man to push his cock
into a tight boy's rectum?"

	No, please don't do it this time?"

	Mr. Wilson's picture showed him to be a white haired man.  The
next picture showed him standing up with his pants and shorts down
around his ankles.  His cock was sticking straight out in front of him.
The next picture shows him rubbing a white cream all over his cock.

	The caption said, "Tommy, can you guess what I'm going to do
to you with this?"

	"Fuck me!"

	Mr. Wilson removes Tommy's clothes before he molest the boy.
Subsequent pictures show him playing with the boy's stiff peepee.  On
the next page Mr. Wilson picks up the boy and places him face down on
the examination table, in the room, with his legs dangling over the edge.
Mr. Wilson aimed his cock at the little red hole.

	The caption said, "Spread you legs, boy, and hold your nice little
bubble-butt open for me."  The picture showed the boy reaching back
and spreading his butt.  Mr. Wilson sticks his cock head into the boy's
hairless asshole.

	You can see the expression on Tommy's face as the cock enters
his ass.  The caption says, "Oh, it's going in.  He tries to resist the anal
invasion, unsuccessfully."

	The caption went on to say, "Now that isn't so bad, being my
cock sleeve."

	The next picture shows the man's front pressed tightly against the
boy's butt.  The last picture shows the man squirting cum all over the
boy's back.

	As I closed the book, Mr. Smith led me into his bedroom where
he took a tube of something greasy and worked his greasy finger up my
asshole.  He had me lay on my back at the edge of the bed.  I watched
him grease up his cock before he placed my heels on his shoulders and
guided his cock to my tight little asshole.  When my asshole allowed the
mushroom head to enter my butt it gave me such a full feeling.  Mt little
peepee was standing straight up.

	When Mr. Smith slid all of his cock, balls deep into my ass he
took hold of my peepee with his greasy hand and while he fucked my ass
he jacked me off.  I felt helpless to stop him even if I had wanted to.  All
I could do was relax and accept what was going on.

	Mr. Smith pulled his cock all of the way out and applied more
cream to his cock before shoving it back into my ass.  He told me, "Move
your ass around Timmy."

	I whimpered as it filled my ass.  It was easier this time.  My
temples were still throbbing while I felt Mr. Smith's body slapping
against my butt.  When he finished fucking me he pulled out and shot
cum all over my little nut sack, peepee, belly and even my face.

	He led me back to the bathroom and we showered together.  He
made sure I was clean and dry before we got dressed.  He drove me
home before my mom got home.  He assured me that he had a lot more
nasty pictures I could see any time I wanted.  It rained almost all night.

	My ass was sore for a couple of days.  I debated about waiting
until Thursday to meet Sally, but the thought of seeing more nasty
pictures and playing nasty games with Mr. Smith was too much of an
attraction.  I had to make arrangement for Mr. Smith to pick me up again.
I called him from a pay phone at a gas station.  This time when we were
in his house I sat on his lap with his cock up my ass while we looked at
more pictures of boys having sex with older men.



If you enjoyed the story and have a story you want me to write about
your introduction to the world of male sexuality, please send your outline
to whitewold999@icqmail.com