From: budi001@aol.com (BUDI001)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: FCP: A LESSON FROM LIFE (man/boy)
Date: 1 Jun 1995 23:58:04 -0400
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)

W  A  R  N  I  N  G

The following story contains adult material. If you are 
under the legal age to read such material, exit this 
story now.


FAN CHA PHAW PRESENTS:

"A LESSON FROM LIFE"

The following story contains sex and sexual situations 
involving adult homosexuality, and scenes of adult-
child sexuality. If you are offended by such things, exit 
now and do not continue reading.

If you are under the legal age to read adult sexual 
stories, exit this file now.

All characters in this story are fictional. They are not 
real.

Fan Cha Phaw does not condone the activities of the 
actors in this story. Fan Cha Phaw does not advocate the 
breaking of any laws known to mankind.

Ishmael Wilkins
Fan Cha Phaw 


A LESSON FROM LIFE

ACT ONE

"Life is a bitch, and then you die"  Some sage from the 
twentieth century.





Day after day I sit here by my window, wondering how 
I got myself into this hell-hole, and silently questioning 
myself if I will ever get out of it again. The noise, filth, 
and stench is enough to drive anyone crazy, but 
somehow I will survive. I must survive.


I am only three weeks out from behind the wall ... the 
big house, they call it. I served eight long years, never 
knowing from day to day if that was going to be my last. 
Somehow I survived that experience, although at times I 
wasn't sure that I was going to. I decided that if "they" 
didn't get to me, the guards would, and if they all failed 
in their God-driven mission to destroy me, I would 
probably do it by my own hand.


Eight long years was what the judge said. At hard labor. 
For crimes against society which he wished that he never 
had to judge against. A menace he called me. A menace 
to society, and to children where ever they lived and 
played. To protect society from me, and to protect me 
from myself, he locked me up with robbers, and 
murderers.


It seemed that the "ears" behind the wall knew just when 
I was to arrive, because no sooner than I had been 
processed into the joint, suffering from verbal abuse at 
the hand of my keepers, I was escorted down the 
hallways and into the cell block area.


As soon as the doors opened I knew that it was the 
beginning of the end. Although escorted through a 
protected tunnel, cons lined the tiers above and along my 
route. They shouted their pleas to the guards to move me 
nearer to the bars so that they could "greet me," or to 
move me into their cells so that they could help me feel at 
home.


Through the barrage of laughter and catcalls, came the 
taunts which I was to soon know all to well. "Diddler" 
"Baby Fucker" "Child Molester" Word traveled fast 
behind the wall, and I would not have been too surprised 
if the guards had not arranged for that greeting.


At first I thought that they were going to push me 
through those bars, and leave me to fend for myself 
amongst those animals, however, a few minutes more 
and a few more turns down different hallways and I was 
led through a doorway to new man's land.


My arrival brought a few icy stares from cons resting on 
their bunks, or huddled around small tables rolling 
cigarettes and playing cards. A few of those who felt at 
home already behind the walls made kissing sounds, and 
let their own brand of humor roll from their lips, making 
references to the new fish, and the possibilities of 
immediate marriage in that very block.


I was not then use to jail-house slang, but the comments 
I understood nonetheless. There was only one way to 
take comments like that. Unless one was totally stupid, 
he knew at that point that he was in deep shit.


Despite the three and a half days spend in new man's 
land, nothing remarkable took place. I laid waiting every 
moment I was awake for an attack, or to be confronted 
by one of those who gained so much pleasure in verbally 
abusing me throughout the day and night. When none 
came I was even more surprised, after all, I knew what 
happened to people with my charges when they went to 
prison.


It was not until I was moved to a segregation unit that I 
understood why no attacks were made while I was in the 
new man's section. While in the unit everyone was 
observed and classified. Although already classified to 
the maximum security prison, they had yet to be 
classified within the prison. Some units were worse than 
others, and some were down right feared. It was this 
fear of being placed in a bad unit which kept cons calm 
while waiting transfer.


The unit that I was transferred to was part of the hospital 
unit. One wing of it was set aside for special protective 
custody cases. It was those who had to be protected even 
from protective custody inmates that ended up here.


The cells were tiny, but at least they were singles. I 
wondered for a while why I was given a single cell when 
the prison was said to be so over crowded. It wasn't for 
a few days longer that I finally realized the reason.


The first two days in "seg" were hell. At least in the new 
man's tier I was able to be out in a dorm setting, even 
though I did not wander around much. In the seg unit, 
however, I was confined to a small cell only a bit bigger 
than the closets in my old house.


I could only pace so far in such a small area, and with 
the exception of simple exercises, I was at a loss as to 
what to do with my time. I laid, most of the time, on my 
bunk listening to the sounds of the unit. Every once in a 
while moans or screams would float in from the regular 
hospital unit. 


A few of the cons on the unit would talk back and forth 
to each other, but when it got too noisy a guard would 
appear, and all would grow quiet again. Some of the 
cons would sing softly if no one yelled at them to shut 
up. I was amazed at how young and soft some of the 
voices sounded. It reminded me of the church choir.


Shortly before dinner was served my first night, a voice 
called out to me from the cell next to mine. I was in the 
first cell on the beginning of the tier, so it did not take 
much imagination to know where the voice was coming 
from.


I answered his call of "Hey you, next door," when I was 
sure that he was talking to me. I held my breath after 
answering him, wondering what new abuse he could 
come up with. He only asked me a question. He 
wondered if I had any matches.


I vaguely remember that I had been given a book of 
matches and a pouch of tobacco with some cigarette 
papers when I was processed into the prison. Even 
tough I did not smoke, I decided to take it. I had heard 
all of the stories, and had watched all of the movies. 
Tobacco was money behind the walls.


I told the voice next to me to wait while I looked for the 
matches. I found them after a few minutes. When I went 
to hand them to him, he told me to take a few out of the 
book and give them to him, and to keep the rest for 
myself. I did what he requested, and reached my hand 
out of the bars to hand them over to him.


After some practice I felt my hand touching his. I 
carefully placed the matches in his hand. When I went to 
pull my arm back into the cell, however, I felt him grab 
onto my wrist and pull. 


I panicked when he did this. I struggled against him. He 
released me after a minute or so, and all was quiet for a 
few minutes. I listened carefully, trying to figure out 
why he had done that to me, besides the obvious, that he 
had tried to break my arm.


After a few minutes I heard him call out again. I moved 
close to the bars, wondering what he had planned next. I 
could tell that he was leaning close to his bars as well. 
Softly, in a gentle voice he told me that he had not been 
trying to hurt me. He told me that what he had done was 
part of a lesson that I had to learn fast behind the walls.


He told me never to reach out of the cell unless I was 
sure that no one was around who could grab onto my 
arm. He said that one push into the bars and an arm 
could be broken. He told me that I should only pass 
things to people that I knew well, and then to hand them 
off and move away as fast as possible.


He told me never to lie or sleep with my head close to the 
bars. He told me that if I did that, it would make an easy 
target for anyone who wanted to bang me on he head. 
He also told me that no matter how hot it was in the cell, 
I should always sleep with my blanket close by, or on 
me.



A LESSON FROM LIFE
ACT TWO


He told me how trusties would sneak up and through 
pails of water, sometimes hot into cells, or worse yet, 
cups of piss or worse. With the blanket, he told me, I 
could save from being injured or covered in piss.


Whereas I had thought that my spirits would raise when 
I finally found someone to talk with, the opposite 
occurred. The more that he talked, the more depressed I 
became.


The con's final instruction was to check all food that was 
delivered to my cell for signs of tampering. He told the 
stories of trusties spitting into the food, of ground glass 
or chemicals being mixed in with the food, and all of 
those wonderful tales. 


When chow finally arrived that night, I was almost too 
scared to eat it. As I ate, I carefully probed every 
mouthful, least I find something which didn't belong 
there.


Later that night the con called out once more. We talked 
about this and that for about ten minutes before we both 
finally fell silent. Even though the guy had tried to break 
my arm, I was beginning to like him. He had given me 
valuable lessons and information on how to survive 
behind the walls.


The next afternoon a fairly kind guard appeared on the 
block. He opened a few cells and called out the inmates 
to clean the unit. My body stiffened when several 
inmates walked by my cell carrying mops, brooms, and 
buckets, however, short of glancing in to see the new 
guy, they did nothing to bother me.


About an hour after the cleaning crew was banished to 
their cells, the guard reappeared and opened the cell door 
next to me. He announced to the con that he was to take 
his shower. The guard stood there for a few minutes as 
the con got ready and then walked down the tier for the 
shower. I was wondering if I would get a chance to look 
at him when he came back.


After my neighbor walked down the tier, I moved 
towards the door and asked the guard if I would be able 
to shower as well. He looked at me for a moment, and 
then glanced down at his clipboard. He shook his head 
no, and told me that perhaps I could have one the next 
day.


After about ten minutes I heard the shower go off, and a 
few minutes later I heard my neighbor walking back 
down the tier. He obviously stopped by a few cells on 
the way, but soon he was standing in front of my door.


When I raised my head up from the bunk and looked at 
him I was shocked. He was no more than a boy. When 
he saw that I was looking at him he smiled. Without any 
hesitation or inhibition he opened his towel wide and 
exposed his hard-on for me to see.


I was shocked that this boy would do this, especially to a 
stranger. As much as I didn't want to look, I noticed 
how young and soft he was. He had no body hair short 
of a small, neat patch above his penis. His hard-on, 
while impressive to me, was no more than four inches 
long.


While I watched he began to wiggle his erection back 
and forth between the bars. When I made no move 
towards him, he moved closer, sticking his weapon 
deeper into my cell, and told me that I had better hurry 
before the guard came back.


Just when I was about to ask him what he meant, the 
outer door clanged, signaling that the guard was on his 
way in. The boy disappeared from the front of my cell, 
and I heard him enter into his. The guard appeared a few 
minutes later and locked him in, opening another cell 
further down the line to let the next con out.


I laid there thinking about what had taken place with my 
neighbor. Although I had an idea of what he had wanted, 
I was not really sure. In the middle of my deep thoughts 
about what he had wanted, I heard him call to me. 


Moving close to the bars, we began to whisper just loud 
enough to hear each other. He told me that I blew it, and 
then laughed at his own joke. He told me that when he 
had a chance to come to the cell, I had to be fast before 
the guard came. He also told me that when it was my 
turn to shower, I had to get to his cell fast afterwards so 
that he could "do" me before the guard came to lock me 
in.


It was becoming clearer. I had been right. Sex was on 
the boy's mind. I decided to play innocent, and asked 
him what he meant. I heard him groan and then giggle, 
and he replied, "You know. You take care of me, and I 
will take care of you."


When I asked him how we would take care of each 
other, figuring that he meant giving hand-jobs to one 
another, he sighed telling me that I could not be that 
dumb. Deciding that I might just be that dumb, he 
elaborated. "When I come to your cell you do me. You 
know, like blow me. When you come to my cell, I'll 
blow you too."


I stood in silence taking in what the boy had said. I had 
not sucked another male's dick since I was eleven. That 
time it had been with my best friend. We decided that 
sucking each other felt much better than jacking off. It 
was a childhood thing which had occurred from the time 
that I was about six or seven until I had just turned 
twelve and began to ejaculate. After that I had never had 
anything to do sexually with other males until that boy 
stood out in front of my cell asking me to blow him.


My silence must have bothered the boy, because he 
asked me if I were still there. I replied that I was. In the 
next breath I asked him how old he was. He had looked 
very young when he stood in front of my cell naked and 
hard. I could not even begin to guess at his age. I 
thought that if he were in that place, he had to be at least 
eighteen.


When he told me that he had just turned sixteen, I was 
stunned. I did not know what to say. I had heard from 
others that asking someone about their crime was taboo 
behind the walls, and so I refrained from asking. The 
boy was the only person that I had talked with since I 
arrived, and I didn't want to blow that. I laughed to 
myself at my own joke.


Things went quiet for a while. I heard the boy lay down 
on his bunk, and I wondered if I had hurt his feelings 
somehow. I wanted to call out to him, however, I 
decided that I would wait for him. I wanted friendship 
badly, and the cute young boy appealed to me in a big 
brother-kind of way, however, I was sure that I could 
not have the type of friendship that he wanted.


Long after dinner the boy remained silent. After the 
guards had made their early evening rounds, and the 
block was beginning to quiet down, I heard him call out 
to me. Moving closer to the bars, I listened for his 
whisper.


"What's the matter," he asked, "am I too ugly?" I could 
hear the hurt in his voice. He had been rejected, and it 
seemed as if he were not use to rejection. I told him that 
he was far from ugly.


"Am I too old? Do you just like little boys?" his 
wounded voice asked. At first I thought that he was 
being cruel, but I soon realized that he was asking an 
honest question, no malice was intended by him.


I told the boy that I didn't like little boys, and that I 
didn't "do it" with boys at all. The boy was silent for a 
few more minutes before he responded. "You don't have 
to lie to me. I want to be your friend. I will be your 
boy."


After a few more moments of silence, he blurted out 
what was on his mind. " I know what you are in for. We 
all heard the guards talking. You were busted for fucking 
little boys. In this block it ain't no big deal. There are 
four other guys here for boys."


I stood quietly for a few minutes taking in what he had 
said. I almost laughed out loud. Either someone had their 
wires crossed, or they had heard wrong. I was in for 
having sex with little girls not boys. I wondered how 
that mistake had been made.


"I won't say anything to anybody. I don't have anybody 
here or outside. I will be your boy. I'll do anything for 
you." I heard the boy's voice crack when he said that, 
and I could tell that he was close to tears if he was not 
already crying.


A LESSON FROM LIFE
ACT THREE

Going against my better judgment, and against the advice 
of my lawyer, I leaned closer to the bars and began to 
talk to the boy. " I am not in here for boys. Someone 
must have heard wrong. I am in here for little girls. I 
haven't done it with a boy since I was eleven."


"Girls?" was the boy's only answer to my revealing 
myself to him.


"Girls!" I heard him mutter to himself, and then I heard 
that laugh which I was growing to love.


"Shit. No wonder you stood there with your jaw 
hanging when I flashed my dick at you. I thought I was 
too old for you. I was gonna shave off my dick hair 
tonight for you so that I would look like a little boy 
again."


Not being able to help it, I began laughing. The boy 
stood silent for a minute or so, but then joined in on the 
laughter.


"Shit. I would have been teased to death if I shaved my 
hair and then the guys found out that you liked little 
girls. They'd ask me if I were gonna cut my dick off for 
you too."


That sent both of us off in a fit of laughter once again. I 
could not believe that I was laughing. I had not laughed 
for six months, and here a sixteen-year-old boy in the 
middle of prison, who wanted to be my lover had made 
me laugh.


If the boy had been in front of my cell at that minute, I 
would have hugged him, and probably kissed him. I sat 
back wondering what I was thinking, when I thought 
that if he had been my cell mate I would probably be 
blowing him right then.


I shuddered at that thought. It brought up a lot of old 
feelings, feelings from the time that I was little and 
sucked my first boy dick. I had never had those feelings 
since then. It has always been the pussy's of little girls 
that invaded my thoughts and dreams.


I remembered back to the time that I had been hiking in 
the woods. I had heard some commotion off in the 
distance, and quietly headed off to see what was going 
on. As I approached I was stunned. There, about ten 
minutes away from civilization was a naked boy and girl. 
The boy looked about eight or nine, the girl a year 
younger than him. Both children were beautiful, and I 
stood watching them playing sexually with each other. 


I caught myself staring at the boy's erection as the little 
girl's tongue and mouth worked it over, wondering how 
it would be to have sex with both a girl and a boy at the 
same time.


When the time came, and I approached them, playing the 
outraged adult, I told the boy to get dressed and sent him 
on his way. I caught the kids off guard by telling them 
that I was going to take them to their parents. The boy 
blurted out that it was the girl's idea, and my opening 
was at hand. I told him to get dressed and go home, and 
I would not tell on him.


I watched until the boy was far off, and it was obvious 
that he was not going to be sticking around waiting for 
the girl. Once he was gone I made my move with the 
girl. She agreed that in lieu of me telling her parents, she 
would let me look at her up close naked, and touch her a 
little.


Almost an hour was spent in the woods with the girl, 
and the looking and touching was expanded into kissing 
and licking. The girl was hyper-sexual and was far from 
a virgin. She sucked better than many older girls, and 
although she had never been fucked by an adult before, 
she had taken on a few teenagers and with a little effort 
she turned out to be quite a piece. 


The little girl had been such an eager little slut, that I did 
something with her that I normally did not do with the 
little girls, I fucked her in her ass as well. I was not too 
surprised to find that she was not a virgin there either. 
As I fucked deep into her fairly tight little bottom, I 
thought about the boy, wondering how his bottom 
would have felt. 


It was the only time that I had thought about fucking a 
boy up to that moment. I sat there wondering what 
would have happened if I had the boy stay as well. I 
wondered if he would have played around as well, and if 
he would have let me into his bottom.


I was awakened from my fantasy by the whispering 
from the boy again. He told me that he understood, and 
that if I decided that I wanted a boy while in the joint, he 
would be mine. He also told me that if I didn't want to 
blow him that would be all right, he would blow me with 
no problems.


I was stunned. I could not figure the boy out. Was he so 
lonely that he would offer himself for any friendship? He 
did not look or sound gay, or at least feminine, however, 
he went on and on like a lot of the young sissy boys that 
he had run across in his time. This boy seemed like the 
all-American boy next door.


Coming to a decision, I told the boy to move as close to 
the bars as possible. I listened as he scurried to comply. 
He whispered that he was there. Breaking the rule that he 
taught me, I reached over and felt for him. With a little 
time and difficulty I finally touched his body. I was not 
sure what part of him it was at first, but I finally decided 
that it was his stomach.


Not being able to reach any further, I told him to move 
himself up a bit. The boy moved quickly, sensing what I 
was trying to do. When my fingers touched his 
underpants, I felt them move, and the next minute my 
fingers were touching his naked penis. As he was when 
he stood in front of my cell, he was hard.


I managed to get a few finger grip on his penis, and I 
gently squeezed him. The boy thrust himself upwards a 
bit more, and I was able to cover the head of his penis 
with my fingers. Knowing that neither of us could 
remain like that for long, I began stroking him as best as 
I could. It took only a minute for him to tense up. I felt 
his penis begin to throb, and then felt my fingers become 
wet as he shot his load from his body. 


Glancing out on the floor, I grimaced. The boy had shot 
long and hard. There was a small puddle of his cum on 
the floor, from about a foot out moving inwards. When 
the boy calmed down, I told him to look. He mumbled 
an obscenity under his breath and then reached his towel 
out through the bars to clean up before the guard saw it.


Just when I was heading towards the sink to wash his 
cum from my hand, I heard him call out to me. Moving 
back to the bars, I listened. He asked me not to wash it 
off, and to use it on my dick to jack off. What he was 
asking me to do was kinky, but somehow it kind of 
appealed to me. It was his next request that sent me over 
the edge. I "chubbed" up shamelessly. He asked me to 
jack off onto a piece of paper or something and then pass 
it over to him through the bars.


His request was not only kinky, it was child-like, but it 
was that which appealed to me so much. Suddenly that 
young boy next door to me was transformed into one of 
my several boyhood friends with whom I played 
sexually.


I managed to rummage up a piece of paper which could 
be passed to him, and with little effort I drenched the 
paper with my cum. It had been quite a while since I had 
last cum, and so a lot was stored up.


Several seconds after I passed the cum drenched paper 
over to him, thinking that he was going to use my cum 
as lubrication to jack off again, I heard a slurping sound 
and an exaggerated swallowing. This produced several 
chuckles from others on the tier, as well as a few 
squeaks being produced from beds, others obviously 
enjoying the entertainment immensely.


The boy moved back to the bars and whispered his 
bedtime comment. "Tomorrow I will get it directly from 
you, Okay?" he asked pleadingly. Without much 
hesitation I replied "Yeah." I could sense is smile 
through the wall as he slipped into his bed.


About five more minutes passed before I heard him 
whispering again. I got back out of bed and went to the 
bars. 


"Hey, what's your name?" he asked, adding his boyish 
giggle.


"Tony. What's yours?"


"Mark"


"Good night Mark."


"Good night Tony."



A LESSON FROM LIFE
ACT FOUR

Stumbling back into my bed, I smiled, happy that I made 
the boy's life a little happier. I wondered what the boy's 
story was, hoping that I would have a chance to find out.


A few minutes later I was blushing, pulling the pillow 
over my face and pulling the covers up to cover the 
pillow. Outside of a few cons who were still engaged in 
their acts of solo sex, the tier was quiet. Just when a pin 
dropping could almost be heard, I heard Mark's voice, in 
much more than a whisper call out.


"I love you Tony."


Giggles, a few cat calls, and many more kissing sounds 
rang out in the night, as I groaned, wondering what I 
had started. Surprisingly things quieted down rather 
quickly after Mark's public announcement. I was hoping 
that the same would be true the next day. I found myself 
half wanting to have him back in front of my cell so that 
I could strangle him, however, the other half of me was 
pleased.


I don't know what got into me, but just as things calmed 
down again, in a voice no lower than Mark's had been, I 
proclaimed "I love you too Mark."


That ended any pretenses of order on the tier. Everyone 
busted out in laughter, and the jokes flew. Whereas I 
would have thought that a lot of name calling would have 
taken place, it seemed that everyone was eager to laugh, 
and to celebrate the fact that love could take place, even 
in a hell-hole like that.


When he night guard showed up a few minutes later to 
check on all the laughter, it took close to five minutes for 
everyone to quiet down again. Lucky for all of us that it 
was a friendly guard. After walking down the tier in 
front of everyone's cells, he headed back down towards 
the exit. 


Stopping in front of Mark's cell, he asked in a fairly loud 
voice, "Got a boyfriend, huh, Mark?"


That started things off again, but he soon had them quiet 
again. The guard stopped by my cell and looked in. He 
motioned me over to the bars and whispered, "I thought 
you liked little girls?" Not knowing how to respond, I 
shrugged my shoulders.


Looking at me for a few minutes, he said "Be good to 
him. He's had a rough life." Without further comment he 
left the cell block. I am not sure if the rest of the block 
heard the guards comment, but things were quiet after 
that.


The next day after breakfast the tier was unusually quiet. 
I was not sure if everyone decided to go back to sleep, or 
if they were waiting patiently for day two of the lover's 
courtship.


I decided that I wanted to talk with Mark privately. The 
only way to do so was to write notes back and forth, and 
so I set off writing him a cheerful good morning note. I 
heard his boyish giggles as he read the note, and then 
there was silence for a long time after that. 


I heard something tapping up against my wall. When I 
moved to the bars, I saw Mark's hand, he had written 
his reply. I grinned as I opened and then began to read 
his letter. He had the penmanship of a school boy. I had 
to stop and think that if he had been on the outside he 
would have been a school boy.


When we were passing back yet another note, suddenly 
a voice sounded out from down the tier. "Shit. They're 
passing notes," and then he laughed. A few minutes of 
chaos occurred, but quickly quieted down. Now that 
they realized that they would not be able to sit back and 
listen to the lovers court, the tier came alive as it 
normally was.


Mark and I continued to pass our notes back and forth, 
oblivious to the ongoings on the tier. After about the 
tenth note, Mark wrote that he wanted to write something 
long for me, and that it would take a while to complete.


I laid back and waited for him to finish his letter, and I 
thought about what I would do if it were my turn to get 
out for a shower. I knew that Mark expected me to stop 
by his cell. I also knew that the rest of the tier expected it 
as well. Mark and I had proclaimed our love for each 
other the previous night, and now it had to unfold.


I wondered if when the time came, I would be able to 
respond to him as he obviously expected me to respond.


After about a half hour I was wondering what Mark was 
up to, when all of a sudden I heard his pen clank up 
against the wall. I reached out and took the papers from 
him. I could not believe what the boy had handed me. 
There before me, in his small, neat handwriting were 
four pages, double sided.


I sat down on my bunk and began to read, wondering 
what the boy was about to reveal to me. I was hoping to 
hear his story, and perhaps that would occur. My body 
stiffened as I began to read Mark's letter. I was not sure 
if I wanted to know what he was about to tell me:


Dear Tony,


I am really happy to have you as my friend. Last night 
when you said that you loved me, I cried all night I was 
so happy. I have been so scared here, and no one wants 
to be my friend. They all think that I am nuts. I decided 
that before they tell you stories, or before you hear them 
from someone else, I will tell you.


I am really scared that after I tell you this you will not 
want to be my friend, and that you will be like the rest. I 
really DO love you Tony, and I hope that you will still 
like me, and maybe love me.


If you don't want to be my friend, I will understand. I 
will still suck your dick if you want me to, even if you 
don't want me as your friend and boy. If we ever get a 
chance, and you want to, I will let you fuck me too.


Here goes. Please read all of this without stopping, no 
matter what you think. I am not crazy Tony. Really I am 
not.


I got life for killing a man and a boy. They said that I 
stabbed the man about 200 times, and that I cut his dick 
off. They said that I fucked the kid for hours after I 
killed the man and then I cut his throat and stabbed him 
all over, and then cut his dick off too.


They said that when they found me I was covered with 
blood, and that the boy's dick was in my pocket. I guess 
that I really did go nuts for a while then, because I don't 
remember doing those things.


I got life for each of their murders, and I will probably 
never get parole. They sent me to a mental hospital for 
about a year, and then here when the hospital said that I 
was not crazy.


Since I got here the story got out and nobody talks to me 
much. They joke once in a while, but they are afraid that 
I will go crazy on them too.


When I was really little, like about four, my mom and 
dad split up. After a while my mom started dating again. 
When she would go out she would hire a baby-sitter for 
me. For a while things were OK, until she hired a boy 
who lived in the neighborhood. 


She got him because he would sit for me cheap, and 
because his parents didn't care if he stayed out late, or 
stayed out over night. At first he was real nice to me, 
although he always wanted to give me a bath, or have me 
run around the house naked.


Finally one night after he gave me a bath, he took me 
into my bedroom. Instead of putting on underpants as he 
did sometimes, he picked me up and laid me down on he 
bed. He started to take his clothes off too. He told me 
that we were going to play a game, and that I would like 
it.


At first it was fun. He tickled me and played with my 
dick, and it felt good. He let me play with his too. I 
remember that it was big, and that he had hair on it like 
my dad did.


He didn't waste any time in sucking my dick. He did it 
for about a half hour total, until I told him that it hurt. He 
then pulled me on top of him and told me to wiggle 
around.


After we did that for a while, he rolled me over onto my 
stomach and licked my butt hole. I laughed because it 
tickled. He then got on top of me and put his dick 
between my legs. He began fucking me between my 
legs, and didn't stop until he came between them.


A LESSON FROM LIFE
ACT FIVE

After he cleaned me up, he put on my underpants and 
told me not to tell anyone or we would not be able to 
play together again. I told him that I wouldn't tell, and I 
didn't.


Later when I was in bed, he came back into my room, 
and took my underpants off and fucked me between my 
legs again. I kind of remember that he did it a couple of 
more times that night as well.


The next time that he sat, as soon a mom left the house, 
he took me upstairs and undressed me. He got undressed 
too. He started to lick and suck me all over, and then he 
sucked my dick again for a long time. When my dick 
hurt he stopped and he pulled me on top of him and told 
me to rub around. 


While I rubbed, he started kissing my face, and then on 
my mouth. He told me to kiss him back and I did. He 
then taught me how to tongue kiss, and we did that for a 
while.


He showed me how to play with his dick, and he taught 
me how to jack him and myself off. I jacked him off for 
a while, and then he asked me to kiss his dick. It took 
him a while to convince me, but I finally did it. After a 
while he also convinced me to lick it all over, and once I 
did that he taught me how to suck.


That was the first time that I tasted cum. I thought that he 
peed in my mouth, and I tried to spit it out, but he held 
his dick in my mouth and made me swallow it. He told 
me later that I would get big like him, and have a big 
dick if I sucked him and swallowed his cum. I was little 
and stupid, and I believed him. I sucked him off two 
more times that night, and about a million times every 
time he sat for me after that.


One night he came to baby-sit me when my mother was 
going to be out all night. He was especially excited when 
he arrived. He told me that we would have a lot of fun, 
and that he could sleep naked together.


Almost as soon as mom was gone he got us both naked 
and we were fooling around. He had not been there even 
an hour, and I had already drank two of his loads of 
cum.


While we rested, he carried me to the bathroom and we 
took a bath together. Afterwards we went downstairs 
naked and watched TV. He went into the kitchen for a 
minute, and when he came back he had a beer in his 
hands. He told me if I were good, I could drink beer 
with him.


He gave me a taste, and I didn't like it much, but he kept 
telling me that it would make me a big boy. It didn't take 
long before I was half drunk. He carried me back 
upstairs to the bedroom and laid me on the bed. He went 
into the bathroom for a few minutes and then came back. 
He was carrying something with him.


He started playing with me again, and then sucked me 
off. When he was finished he rolled me onto my 
stomach and started licking my butt hole again. He licked 
it for a long time, and then he started sticking his finger 
inside. I told him that it hurt, and he stopped. He reached 
over, opened a jar, and spread some lotion on my butt, 
and then on his hand.


He told me to keep quiet, and to relax my butt muscles. I 
did what he told me, and he started sticking his finger 
into my butt. It hurt, and I told him so. He told me not to 
be a sissy, that all big boys did it, and that if I wanted to 
be a big boy I had to do it too.


I laid still while he poked his finger up in my butt. It hurt 
like hell, but I didn't want to be a sissy. I had no idea 
what being a sissy was, but it didn't sound good. I 
wanted to be a big boy.


After a while he must have been satisfied that I loosened 
my butt, because he pulled his finger out. My head was 
spinning, and I was groggy, but I remember that he 
started rubbing some of the lotion on his dick. He told 
me that he was going to put his dick in my butt like he 
did his finger. He told me to be a big boy and keep my 
butt relaxed. He told me that I could do it to his butt 
afterwards.


I cried out when his dick slid into my butt. It must have 
scared him, because he pulled out again. He put his 
finger back inside me for a while, and then tried his dick 
again. I cried out again after he pushed in a little more, 
and out he came.


Eventually he must have become so horny that he could 
not take it, because he got on top of me, put his dick up 
against my butt hole, and then put his hands over my 
mouth. He started pushing inside of me, stopping my 
screaming with his hands. It hurt like hell as he pushed 
his dick inside of me.


I cried and fought against him, but he was too big, 
strong, and heavy. He kept his grip on my mouth, and 
continued pushing his dick inside of me. Finally he was 
in all the way, and he laid down on top of me and rested. 
When he noticed that I had stopped crying, he took his 
hands off my mouth. I told him that it hurt, and he told 
me to be a big boy. He told me that all little boys got butt 
fucked by older boys.


When he started humping inside of me, the pain started 
again, and I started crying and yelling. Once again he 
held his hands over my mouth while he raped my ass. I 
must have passed out at the point that he was ramming 
away inside me, ready to cum, because the next thing I 
remember was that he had me in the bathtub, and he was 
washing off my butt.


Afterwards he was even more nice to me, and told me 
that I was now a big boy because I had an older boy fuck 
me in the butt and I took it like a big boy. He had me 
laughing and joking, even though my butt still hurt real 
bad.


He was good to his promise, and a while after he laid on 
his stomach and told me to climb on top of him. He 
helped me get inside of him, and then instructed me 
through my first butt fuck. I doubt that he even felt my 
little dick inside of him, but all through my fuck he told 
me how big my dick was, and how good I fucked. He 
kept asking me if it felt good. It did feel good, and I told 
him so. He told me that it felt that good when he fucked 
me too.


He must have been ready to fuck me again, because out 
came another beer, and I sipped away until I could not 
walk. Instead of bringing me to the bedroom, he fucked 
me on he floor in front of the TV. I can remember that it 
hurt, but I was too drunk to put up much of a fight that 
time, or the other times he went inside of me during the 
night.


The next day I woke up with a very sore butt. When I 
looked at the sheets there was a little blood on them. He 
took them off and threw them into the washer. He 
rubbed some cream onto my butt hole, and told me not to 
tell anyone that he fucked me, or he would tell that I 
asked him too, and that I sucked his dick.


He had me scared, and so I didn't tell my mother, even 
though my butt hurt real bad for days afterwards, and a 
little blood kept running out onto my underpants. Each 
time I noticed it, I washed them off in the sink, scared 
what would happen if my mother found out.


A LESSON FROM LIFE
ACT SIX

About a week later the baby-sitter was back and he had 
my ass propped up in the air plowing into it before the 
car even left the driveway. The more that he fucked me, 
the sorer that my ass got, until I almost couldn't walk. I 
started having stomach aches, and diarrhea mixed with a 
little blood.


Eventually I must not have been able to keep up with 
cleaning up after myself, and my mother noticed the 
blood. She then noticed that I sat and walked funny. 
After questioning me over and over, I finally broke 
down and blurted out what the baby-sitter had been 
doing to me.


Her response was to spank me and to send me to my 
room as punishment. As I walked away in tears, she told 
me that I was just like my father, and that I was no good. 
I did not know then what she was talking about.


Eventually my mother got around to talking to the baby-
sitter. She called him to sit, and then when he came over 
she asked him about what I had told her. The boy 
admitted that he had played with me, but he told her that 
I had asked him to, and that I had sucked his dick when 
he was sleeping on the couch. He told my mother that I 
had asked him to fuck me in the ass, saying that I said 
that I did it with my friends all he time.


My mother called me down and confronted me with the 
boy's story. I stood quiet, afraid to call him a liar. My 
mother spanked me again, and then sent me to bed. 
About a half hour after she left, he came into my room, 
took off my underpants and spanked me as well. 
Afterwards he climbed on top of me and fucked me in 
the ass again.


If my mother had not met her current husband, that boy 
would have fucked me silly for several more years. As 
time went on, my mother started to be slow in paying 
him. He did not complain. It seemed that a silent 
agreement had been reached between them. He baby-sat 
in return for being able to fuck me.


My mother started staying home more with her new 
boyfriend, and so the sitter was less and less. One night 
when they were both drunk, and I came into the living 
room naked looking for my pajamas, my mother yelled 
at me and told me to stop running around naked. 


Afterwards she told my stepfather about what had 
happened between me and the baby-sitter. She told him, 
of course, his version, which made me out to be a little 
fag looking for dick.


As the night went on, they got drunker. When they 
ended up in bed, the subject of me came up again, and 
my step father told her to bring me into the bed with 
them so he could see my faggot shit. He must have 
convinced her, because I was picked up and carried into 
their room.


I woke up as I was laid onto the bed. Her boy friend 
took off my pajamas and told me to play with myself like 
the little fag that I was. I cried and said that I didn't want 
to and he hit me, so I started jacking off. Eventually he 
had me play with his dick, and then suck him. Before the 
night was over, he was stuffing his dick up my ass, and 
I was sore and crying again.


After I was sent back to my room, and my mother went 
to sleep, or passed out, he came into my room again, and 
fucked me two more times before he staggered back to 
the bedroom to pass out.


That started an almost daily thing for him. He would 
come into my room, unannounced, take my clothes off, 
and fuck me in the ass. At night he would come into the 
room after my mom fell to sleep and he would fuck me 
silly.


When he started to have me suck him off while he 
watched TV, and then when he would strip me naked 
and sit me on his lap, his dick in my ass, fucking me 
while they watched TV, my mother finally became 
jealous.


There was a big fight, and my step father was ousted 
from the bedroom for the night. He did not seem too 
upset with that. He came into my room and slept in my 
room, fucking me whenever he pleased. In the morning I 
woke up and his dick was still inside of me.


My mom decided that I was too much like my dad for 
her liking and so she sent me off to live with him. It was 
only after I was living with him for about a week that I 
began to understand what she was saying.

END ACT SIX