Date: Mon, 22 May 2006 14:35:24 -0700
From: aberration@hush.com
Subject: First Resolutions - Part Eleven - Mysterious

First Resolutions
By: Aberration


All the usual disclaimers apply.

This is a story involving consensual sex between the principal characters,
which may include grown men and underage boys. If this type of story
offends you, or is not to your liking, then leave now. This is not true. It
is merely a figment of the author's imagination. The author does not
condone unsafe sex, and absolutely does not encourage sex with underage
people no matter the form.

Story Codes: (mb, voy, oral, anal, mast)


Comments are welcome at aberration@hush.com


Part Eleven - Mysterious


If you're fortunate enough to simply have dreams; or you've ever chemically
induced dreams, then you probably have experienced him floating into your
vision.

So captivating, luscious eyes telling you he knows exactly what you want
and he's not frightened. Innocent yet so damnable charged with
sexuality. Distorted, but edging clear and precise.

Long practiced, out of no where some fingers slip around a perfect four and
half inch representation, hearing the barely audible gasp, sliding the
already retracted foreskin back over the darkly pink crown and then
exposing it again.

Oil appears in the next cloud, coating and mashing the sparse bush,
trickling over the velveteen, tightly retracted figs.

Audio becomes enhanced and the grunts are at a pitch only an emerging
trachea could produce.

The seal sleek torso tenses, feet curling miniature toes.

A final gasp of astonishment and bursting from the buds of flowering petals
a million butterflies flap and flitter in thousands of directions, some so
laden with sweets of the plants, the glistening drops of fluid plop onto
the tiny indented hole, along with the heaving flesh of his chest and
stomach.

Then just as he came, he departs, floating away, dissolved into fragments
scattered throughout the universe as you contemplate your own inexplicable
drops of fluid splattered upon your torso and realize the room is full of
orange, black and yellow Monarch Butterflies.

Mysterious!

P.S. If Rod Serling is smoking a cigarette, leaning against the door frame
watching you ... well,

"YOU'RE ON OWN, SON!"