Date: Fri, 14 Apr 2006 22:46:23 -0700 From: aberration@hush.com Subject: First Resolutions Part Four First Resolutions By: Aberration Part Three: First-Aid Disclaimer: This story contains material of a sexual nature and describes sexual acts between varied ages, which may include adult/youth. If you find this kind of material offensive, if you are not of legal age to read such material or if it is illegal in your country, please do not read any further. My stories may contain some factual or autobiographical elements, but they are works of fiction, figments of imagination and any apparent similarity of characters to real people is coincidental. Expression should never be considered intent and I do not condone nor endorse any of the activities included in these representations. Story Codes: (bb, tb, tf, voy, oral, anal, mast) Comments are welcome at aberration@hush.com "To Keep the Truth to one's self is not a lie." - Spock We wouldn't have met except for an errant skateboard that gave him a pretty good whack high up on the inner thigh of his left leg. Just a millimeter or three more to his right and he would have been howling much, much worse, I can guarantee you. As it happened he did screech high enough to catch my attention and when I looked through the kitchen window, I spied him writhing in agony on my front lawn and dashed out to ascertain if it was serious or not. Pain yes, but I could see it was most likely a severe muscle bruise and then my eyes glanced up the other, wide open, leg of his shorts, past the boxers to land on what could only be his right testicle and just the tip of a circumcised penis. As he writhed, teeth clenched and eyes tightly closed, I perved on the little hide and go seek show the pant leg was playing. Sometimes I could see almost all of him, and then it would disappear, then just his balls, nicely descended but totally devoid of hair. The view wasn't quite good enough to make out if he'd furred up at all yet, and suddenly I resolved to find out. I'd never before allowed myself to lower this barrier, I was happily married with two daughters and quite content, or so I thought. Oh of course, when I would masturbate during the wife's `time', there would creep in images and thoughts of younger males, up to late adolescence, I found them appealing. I missed the usual young games, never played `show me' or `doctor' unless I don't recall them and didn't discover masturbation until shown by an older cousin at about twelve, he was, I think almost fifteen. We also got together with his little brother who was eight I think and his was the only penis I ever sucked, though he sucked mine many times more then I his. Then that was it, I met a girl and forgot all about males, except for the guilt trip solo sessions, on rare occasions. Dated and pursued the forest patches, lost my virginity on Prom Night, etc., and so on. "Think it's bad?" I finally managed to ask as he'd stopped thrashing. "Naw, not really," he tried bravely to pretend. "Just a mutha' of a Charlie!" "Come on," I said and held his arm, "See if you can stand." "Owwww," he squeaked as he tried to straighten his leg and fell into my grasp. "Okay," I tried to smile as trustingly as possible, sweeping him up into a baby cradle, "We'll get you into the house and just rest it, right?" "Okay," he grimaced, then tried to grin and said, "Thanks!" "No problem," I smiled back and started for the open front door, not being able to stop myself from glancing around the quiet suburban neighborhood and fighting against the guilt that already was trying to keep me on the straight and narrow. "Still hurt badly?" I asked, laying him onto the couch. "Not unless I try and move it," he winced, then stretched back and sighed, relaxing slightly. "Check and see if there's a bruise, I can't bend." He held out the leg of his shorts and I moved close in, trying to be studious in appearance but only glancing at the red, soon to turn ugly purple and yellow spot about an inch wide and two inches across. My eyes locked directly on the perfect vision of nearly three inches flaccid and about marking pen thickness charms, which did indeed have about six or seven longer and coarser strands that curled around the base. The testicles were definitely descending, loose sack with the bluish veins running throughout, but smooth and nicely barren. When I looked up he was grinning at me and I flushed in embarrassment, stammered and stood up and attempted to cover, "I've got some cream that might help." "Yeah?" he said cocking an eyebrow, grinned mischievously and said, "S'pose it couldn't hurt." "Be right back," I said, probably a little to quickly, but retreated with a slight dignity to the bathroom where I quickly splashed myself with freezing water. I dried and rummaged until finding the tube, breathed hard and headed back to the living room. I was reading the instructions on the side and stopped dead in my tracks at the end of the couch. He'd stripped down to his plaid boxers and just lay there grinning, heads behind his head, waiting for my reaction. I was stunned and he was most definitely stunning, a most representative example of a boy poised on the brink. The chest slightly enhanced, arms and legs just beginning to gain definition. The smooth, sleek stage of life when your skin is like velvet, totally without the need of chemicals, the rush of testosterone not yet blemishing, but never dulling the bright smile or handsome face. "I was kinda hot, and I know that stains, so I thought I better take my stuff off." "Uhm, yes," I gulped, "Good idea." "Somebody seems to think so!" he giggled, eyes dropping with mine to stop upon the obvious bulge in my dress slacks. "Uh, uhm," I nearly panicked, tried to move myself with the same hand that held the cream. "Chill, man," he laughed pleasantly, "You're not the first dude to bone up over me!" "What?" I said in shock. "I'm Bi," he said, still grinning, "I've already batted from both sides, I dig sex, but I've never done it with, uh, well you know," he hesitated to say it. "An old dude?" I finally managed to grin back. "Yeah," he laughingly agreed, but then just curled a faint smile and looked me in the eye and said, "But that don't mean I won't." "But, your like eleven years old," I tried to rationalize, but he cut me off. "Almost thirteen," he said with a sneer, his pride ruffled, "What the fuck does that matter when we're both boned up for it?" he angrily spat. Opening the fly of his unders and letting his nicely plump, nearly four and half inches of stiff, bobbing, barely adolescent cock pop free and salute me, the tip shiny with a tiny drop of precum, that he scooped at, slipped his finger into his mouth, sucked and let it pop as he withdrew it, grinning almost feverishly. "Com'on, dude," he laughed, "Close your mouth, strip off your clothes and let's suck some dick!" Ah, there's nothing like being held slave to the desires of a barely adolescent sex fiend.