Date: Wed, 02 Jul 2008 17:23:23 +0000
From: Moore
Subject: Man or Boy

MAN OR BOY
BY MOORE

CHAPTER ONE

The slick, unsheathed penis remained erect between my
ovalled lips for several minutes after delivering the
fruit of a powerful orgasm. The wiry pubic hair, damp and
matted down with my saliva, playfully tickled at the tip
of my nose. Too sensitive now for more tongue swirling
activity around the circumcised head, I held the spent
but rigid organ deeply in my mouth while savoring the
once so familiar texture and unique taste of the thick,
creamy semen.

The soul of the body next to mine was a wonderful blend
of passion, sex and love. It had been years since I'd
felt this way about a man and more years since I had let
any man ejaculate in my mouth. The naked penis and the
fresh sperm in my mouth conjured up long time past, but
not forgotten memories of the youthful emergence of my
rampant homosexuality.

I felt like an innocent young boy again, barely eleven
years old and sucking my very first cock at summer camp.
I was thrilled when my counselor, who had demonstrated
masturbation for us that afternoon, came to me that night
and asked me to kneel between his legs and take his erect
penis in my mouth.

"Suck the head like a lollypop," he instructed. "Nice and
easy."

Thrilled too when, after sucking him for a while, he held
my head steady with his big hands and then climaxed in my
mouth.  The warm spurts sent tingles up and down my
spine.

"That's called a blow job or cock sucking, Steven," he
explained, leading me back to my bunk. "You did it really
well. And the stuff I spurted in your mouth is called
sperm or cum. I think you really liked sucking my cock
and eating my cum. I think you just might be gay or, at
the very least, a natural cocksucker."

His explanation went over my head, but it didn't matter
because I did like sucking his cock more than words can
express. His penis felt, well, comfortable in my mouth
and his sperm was so warm, the creamy taste made me
tingle all over. I liked sucking him off again the next
night, doing it naked this time when he told me to take
off my pajamas and play with my tiny, hairless prick
while sucking his big, hairy dick.

And the night after that, naked again as I would suck him
off each night for the rest of the summer, and with one
other counselor watching me suck his pal's dick. I felt
so grown up giving them both nightly blow jobs when all
the other campers were fast asleep.

How naive I was that summer...and that fall when I went
back to school. I really grew up a year or so later when
I learned the painful truth about having normal sex with
girls as opposed to the abnormal queer stuff I was doing
with...or more accurately since no one touched me back in
a sexual way, doing for the boys in my class.

The knowledge that I was considered a sexual queer came
much too late to salvage my tainted reputation. Not that
it changed anything because I was too far gone into the
depravity of promiscuous homosexuality to much care that
every single boy in junior high school who could, had cum
at least one time in my mouth and that every boy knew me
as "The Fag."

Since the onslaught of HIV, engaging in casual gay sex
with a total stranger without a ready supply of condoms
and lube, sucking a naked cock...to say nothing of taking
another man's sperm in my mouth or ass, was an infrequent
event. Sperm, the holy grail of homosexual sex for me,
was, like drugs to an addict, dangerous to your health.

But this wonderful man in my bed was different somehow.
Not more than thirty minutes earlier, after a wondrously
sensuous blow job that left me doubting the quality of my
own oral skills as my orgasm neared, I had, with his full
knowledge and permission, happily ejaculated in his warm
and talented mouth. To my further unexpected surprise he
had willingly swallowed my sperm.

So now it was my turn to service his engorged penis and
despite my usual reluctance regarding exchanges of body
fluids, I felt I had to be fair and return the favor. By
the unwritten rules of homosexual gentlemen, of civilized
cocksuckers if you will, I had to allow this fantastic,
sexy man to climax in my mouth and swallow his sperm too.

A risky act on both our parts considering the fact that
Allan Foster and I, though lying naked together like
long-time lovers in a hotel bed, barely knew each other.
We had only just met that very afternoon at New York's
St. Regis Hotel. The physical attraction was immediate,
Allan's dark good looks turned more heads than mine as he
crossed the room towards the bar. Gay, I thought briefly
for no conscious reason, then dismissed the idea as mere
wishful thinking because of my own lack of sex the past
week.

"May I?" He asked, standing at the bar stool next to
mine. He could have chosen from ten empty seats, but he
opted to sit next to me. Curious and most welcome.

"Yes, of course," I replied. "Best not to drink alone. My
name is Steven, Steven Ross."

"Allan Foster. Nice to meet you, Steven."

No ring I noticed as we shook hands. Not a sure sign of
anything since lots of married men don't wear a wedding
ring. Though he did hold my hand a tad longer than a
straight man might think proper and he did brush my thigh
lightly as he settled into his seat. The gay vibes I'd
felt returned stronger than before.

"A single malt scotch," he said to the bartender. "Oban
if you have it."

"That's what I'm drinking, Oban."

"Really," he said, turning towards me. "And your suit is
Armani like mine. I wonder what else we have in common."

Quite a lot, as we discovered over the next hour and two
more Obans. Including our ages, forty seven, owners of
successful small businesses, and sexual orientation.

"Queer as a three dollar bill," Allan whispered in my ear
as I hurriedly signed the check. "And horny as a goat. I
haven't had sex for a week."

We all but ran to the elevator, drawing the attention of
a young desk clerk I'd foolishly invited up to my room on
a previous trip to New York. I ignored his not so subtle
nod and knowing smirk, recalling with shame and disgust
the way I had slavishly submitted to his selfish lust and
how he had used my mouth and ass for his pleasure, then
had the gall to slap my cheek with the used condom and
call me an old faggot.

Allan Foster would be different, I hoped, as the elevator
whisked us silently upwards to my luxury suite on the
29th floor. Homosexual men, because of guilt or perhaps
the peer pressures of growing up gay, are more readily
prone to deviant behavior and sexual fetishes than the
average heterosexual. Humiliation and submission, master
and slave, bondage and torture; Allan might be into any
of these...or worse.

I fumbled with the keycard, nervous as the gay teen I
once was anticipating a new homosexual encounter with
another male, finally getting the door unlocked on the
third attempt. Without exchanging a word, only a nod that
spoke volumes, we both got naked in seconds, leaving a
trail of expensive clothes behind as we hurried to the
bedroom. He kissed me tenderly on the lips and I opened
my mouth to receive his probing tongue.  We fell back
together on to the bed, a mass of writhing, quivering,
sexually charged male flesh, clutching each other's nude
body shamelessly.

"I want you," Allan gasped, while nibbling my earlobe. "I
want all of you."

My cock, already erect and throbbing, surged at his
words.  My heart was beating frantically under the weight
of his naked body atop mine. I wanted Allan to have me,
have me any way he wanted. "Take me," I moaned. "Take
me."

Allan Foster took me alright, straight to the special
place in heaven reserved for homosexuals, kissing and
licking his way down my body and then back up between my
legs to my crotch. Allan licked my testicles lightly and
kissed my inner thighs. Then, when I thought I would
explode from the stimulation, Allan rose to his knees,
looked me straight in the eye and took me in his mouth.


CHAPTER TWO

"So what brings you to New York?"  Allan asked as I
poured him a scotch from the well-stocked bar. We were
sweaty and nude, not bothering to shower or dress because
we planned a return to the bedroom for more sex after a
short break. His ample dick was already showing signs of
a speedy recovery and I was not far behind.

"Business mostly...and a little fun. It's rather dull in
Cincinnati. And you?"

"Same. I have several clients in Manhattan and Madison,
Wisconsin is not exactly a hot spot for meeting someone
special like you."  Allan raised his glass at me and
smiled. "You're quite the cocksucker, Steven, I haven't
cum like that in ages."

I raised my glass in return. "Takes one to know one," I
quipped. "Though I haven't been called a cocksucker since
college."

"Does it bother you?"

"No, not really. After all, that's what I am...we are,
cocksuckers."

"It used to bother me a lot, the whole put down routine
against homosexuals. Queer, fag, cocksucker, pussy...high
school was pretty rough on my self esteem. My so called
friends didn't mind the locker room blow jobs from a fag,
but the queer wasn't welcome the rest of the time."

We finished our drinks and happily followed our resurgent
erections to the bedroom for more consensual sex. I made
a stop at the bathroom to pick up the tube of vaseline
conveniently provided by the hotel. The blow job had been
great, but now I intended to discover if Allan Foster's
ass was as good as his mouth. And too, selfishly, it had
been a long while since I'd done it bareback, without a
condom, or with a considerate man like Allan. I wanted to
be pussy for him as well and to feel his naked dick deep
inside me. I wanted to feel him climax inside me...I
wanted to be fucked.

Allan laughed aloud when he spied the small tube in my
hand, then spread his legs for me seductively. "I do hope
there's enough in there for two," he said as I mounted
him. "Or you'll have to call room service for more when
it's my turn to fuck you."
 
Well lubed, I slipped into Allan like the proverbial hot
knife through butter. His anus gripped my dick with a
warm, welcoming embrace. "Oh, god, oh, god," he moaned as
I eased my way in. "It feels so good to have your cock
inside me. Fuck me, Steven, please fuck me. Make me your
pussy."

I made passionate love to Allan Foster, showering his
handsome face with kisses as I fulfilled his wish to be
my pussy. He met my deep, penetrating thrusts, rising up
as I drove down, then he wrapped his legs around my body
and rolled me over on to my back. Now that he was on top
impaled on my cock I could not hold back any longer.
"Gonna cum," I gasped as my orgasm hit. "Oh, god, I'm
cumming in your ass."

There was enough vaseline left in the small tube for
Allan to lube up my ass and his cock for a smooth and
easy penetration. "How do you want to fuck me?" I asked
when my breath and heart rate had returned to normal.

"Woof", was his single word response, which sent me
scurrying to my hands and knees. Head down on the pillow
and ass way up in the air.

The first man to fuck me, a teacher back in high school,
took me from behind...doggy style. He had me kneel to
suck his fat dick first and then he pulled down my pants
and bent me over his desk, a humiliating position which
I still believe is best suited for animals. The pain was
excruciating as he worked the head of his dick into my
virgin asshole and frustrating because I couldn't see
what he was doing. "Stop, please," I cried out. "You're
killing me."

He slapped my ass, hard, and continued his physical and
verbal assault. "Take it pussy boy, take my big fucking
cock. Your pussy ass is mine now, faggot."

I took it, every thick, painful inch, and his flood of
semen which ran down my legs when he finally pulled out
of me. I couldn't sit without pain for a week and only
let him, and others since then, fuck me again in the face
to face missionary position.

I bent over for Allan because he was different from all
the other men I'd been with in a homosexual relationship.
I was in love with a man I'd only just met a few hours
ago and that made all the difference in the world.


CHAPTER THREE

Allan Foster spent the night in my bed, naked as I was,
and in my arms. We didn't sleep very much, coupling as
frequently as our erections allowed. Licking and kissing
every square inch of flesh, and often joining together in
a lazy sixty-nine but for no other reason than to keep
our mouths filled with a lover's warm cock. It was a
heavenly night that I wished would never end.

The wake-up call from the hotel operator came promptly at
seven. We both had business meetings to attend, otherwise
we would have surely spent the day in bed making love. He
slept soundly through the call so after a quick visit to
the bathroom I roused him with a lingering kiss. A kiss
that travelled wetly down his gorgeous body to his sleepy
cock. Allan's eyelids fluttered when I kissed the tip of
his flaccid penis, opening fully when I took him fully in
my mouth and began to gently suck.

"I thought I was dreaming," he said through a yawn. "Ahh,
this is much better than any dream...what a way to wake
up."

His sleepy organ was coming awake as well, lengthening,
hardening and thickening, until my mouth was stuffed with
the thick shaft of a fully erect cock, the head at the
top of my throat. I kept my hands away from his body, a
silent message between homosexuals that showed my trust
that he would not thrust up violently, an instinctive
male reaction under the circumstances, which would
certainly choke me and cause me discomfort.

Allan rewarded my trust, cock sliding smoothly between my
lips. I would have sucked him to a satisfying climax and
for me his warm, morning sperm. Before that could happen,
however, he presented me with another decision to make.

"Mother nature is calling," he said. "Don't move, Steven,
I'll be right back."

In my mouth, I thought, holding him firmly between my
lips.  Why not. We had already shared saliva, sweat and
semen, one more body fluid from the man I loved could do
no harm. It wouldn't be the first time a guy had urinated
in my mouth and drinking the salty urine hadn't made me
ill. Granted, I last did it during my wild high school
days when the word humiliation was not in my vocabulary.
I did a lot of crazy, desperate things back then in my
insatiable search for cocks to suck. Many of which I'd
rather forget.

The guys on the team thought I was bluffing when I agreed
to the outrageously humiliating offer out of desperation.
They laughed at me, but they all learned something about
homosexuals that they wouldn't soon forget.

I'd gone to the locker room after a game hoping to score
some dick. They knew I was gay, an avid cocksucker that
had gladly serviced each of them at one time or another
when they needed my kind of service. I'd made this kind
of service call several times before so my presence in
the locker room was neither unusual nor unwelcome.

I got my usual greeting from Tom Burns, the captain, "Hey
faggot," and sat down on the narrow bench by his locker.
Sometimes he called me queer or cocksucker, depending on
his mood. He was hyped after leading the team to a big
win over an arch rival, strutting around in his jock
strap like a peacock. Tom was big, black and gorgeous;
with a dick and an ego that perfectly matched his size.
Nothing went down on the team without his permission,
including me, so I posed my question directly to him.

"You wanna blow job, Tom?"

If he said yes as he'd done before and as I expected he
would again tonight, then the whole team would line up
behind him for a turn with me. Twelve blow jobs would
slake my lusty needs for cock and cum for a while. But if
he said no I'd be off to the park for a rough and often
dangerous night of cruising with the other homosexuals
for dicks to suck. The competition was fierce for the
limited supply of dick.

Fag watching and fag bashing were popular sports among
the gangs in town. Forced to engage in homosexual acts
with another gay boy or simply jerking off to climax in
front of a gang was humiliating but harmless. Fag bashing
was different and many's the night I slinked my way home
from the park, used, bruised and in shredded clothes, or
no clothes at all if the gang felt particularly mean.

Tom took a step closer to me so that his crotch was in my
face. So close that I could count the black pubic hairs
peeking through the mesh fabric of his bulging white jock
strap and smell the stinging smell of his sweat. Then he
looked down at me grinning broadly, his big white teeth
glowing in sharp contrast with his ebony skin, and rubbed
his wet jock in my face. My spirits soared along with my
dick and then came crashing back to earth.

"Nah, don't think so, faggot" he said, backing away. "I'm
meeting my girl later. I want to be ready in case she's
ready to put out tonight. Don't want to waste my jizz on
a fag cocksucker."

How did the girls do it, I thought naively from a gay
boy's biased point of view. The sexual power they exerted
over straight guys was a secret I'd love to learn. He was
willing to give up a sure thing....a bird in the hand,
his cock in my welcoming mouth, for the off chance that
his girl might put out. A rushed, sloppy  hand job if he
got very lucky, but I knew his girl friend and there was
no way in hell that she was going down on him tonight or
any other night. Nice girls talked about it plenty, but
unlike a gay boy they did not suck dick.

I was crushed by Tom's negative answer, but not ready to
throw in the towel or try to preserve the last shred of
my dignity. If I could get his dick in my mouth, even for
a minute or two, then the rest of the team would be free
to follow their leader. I'd gladly settle for eleven blow
jobs, though begging a guy for his dick was a new and
humbling experience.

"Please, Tom," I said cautiously, falling to my knees at
his feet. "Please let me blow you. I won't make you cum,
promise, just hold your dick in my mouth."

"Piss off, cocksucker," Tom said, removing his jock and
heading to the showers. He stopped halfway there and
turned back to me with a strange look on his face. "You
want my dick so bad, why don't I just piss off in your
faggot mouth....after you crawl over and kiss my big
black ass."

Kissing Tom's ass was no big deal and I got to lick his
balls.  As for his piss, well, Tom put his cock to my
lips and let it flow. A steady stream of hot urine flowed
into my mouth and I drank it. It wasn't as gross as I
thought it would be and I hardly heard the laughter. The
loads of semen that followed from blowing the rest of the
team displaced the acrid taste.

I looked up at Allan's sweet face and said, "Do it in my
mouth, lover. I want to drink your urine."

His expression did not change. "Sure?"

Neither did mine. "Absolutely sure."

We took a hot shower together, washing away the remains
from our night of serious love making and the taste of
urine from my mouth. We then made plans to meet at the
bar after work. We kissed goodbye at the door and then I
watched him, my new lover, walk down the hall to the
elevator. 

CHAPTER FOUR

"Sorry I'm late," Allan said as he sat down beside me at
the bar. "I bumped into an old friend from college, my
roommate actually and former lover."

"Former?" I said anxiously, trying to keep the jealousy
I felt out of my voice.

"Definitely former, Steven, I haven't seen Gene since
graduation. He was kinky then, sexually speaking, and,
well, today he was with a boy."

"His son?"

"Not likely since the boy was black, maybe twelve years
old and pretty as a girl. Gene always fantasized about
having sex with young boys and I think his fantasy has
been realized."

"I'm having a fantasy right now, Allan."

"Hmmm, really? You want to share it with me?"

I downed my drink and signaled for the tab. "It's about
you, lover boy. Your sexy body in my bed upstairs, naked
of course, and that big dick of yours....

Allan took my hand in his. "Let's go."

Four fantasy-filled hours later we talked about dinner.
"Eat in or go out?" I asked, tasting the semen that
coated my tongue.

"Out," Allan responded. "Give housekeeping a chance to
change these sheets. A girl could get pregnant by laying
down in this bed."

Sperm was oozing from his ass and mine, there wasn't a
dry spot to be found on the bed. "Good idea. Where?"

"Gene invited me to the private club he owns on the Upper
West Side."

"Who?"

"Gene, my college roommate, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, the boy lover. I wonder if it's a gay club?"

"Would that bother you? We don't have to go."

I'd been to one gay bar in Manhattan, alone, only to see
what the experience was like. The scene was uninspiring
and more than a little depressing; a mix of middle aged
homosexual men, much like myself, seeking a long-term
relationship, and randy young stud muffins looking for a
night of raw sex. I might have been tempted by the sexual
advances of one black fellow, until he brazenly put my
hand in his crotch and described exactly what he had in
mind for me and where I was going to do it.

"You're gonna love going down on my big cock, pops," he
said aloud with the confidence of youth. Like he was
doing a big favor for an old man by offering me the
chance to suck his dick. "Suck it real good, pops, and
we'll keep your mouth busy all night."

"How big is your dick?" I asked, stringing him along for
the fun of it. "Ten inches, nine? I hear you black guys
are really hung."

"Six inches," he said in a whisper, apparently ashamed to
admit that he had just an average size dick. "You wanna
suck it?"

I declined politely because big or small, blowing him and
his friends in the back room of a gay bar was not my kind
of sex. This time I would be with Allan and it just might
be fun.

The club was in a nondescript, four story building on a
quiet residential side street. Allan knocked on the door,
unmarked save for a plaque with the address, and we were
promptly admitted inside after giving our names. Allan's
friend Gene, with an Asian boy at his side, met us at the
entrance to a dimly lit lounge.  The boy was young, early
teens, slightly built...and pretty as a girl. Except for
the jeweled collar around his neck and the sandals on his
feet the boy was naked as the day he was born.

"Glad you could make it," Gene said warmly. I didn't want
to like him, pedophiles are scum in my opinion, but he
was so open and friendly, and the boy appeared to be
unfazed by his nudity, that it was easy to forget what he
was.

"Follow me," Gene said as he took the boy's hand. "I have
a table by the stage and the evening's entertainment is
about to begin."

When my eyes adjusted to the dim light I noticed that
each table in the smokey lounge was occupied by men.
Happy men, judging by the buzz of conversation and hearty
laughter. And darting between the tables, serving drinks
and food, were a slew of naked boys.

"Beautiful creatures aren't they?" Gene said when he saw
me staring at the unexpected sight. "I keep them naked
because there's nothing so lovely as a smooth skinned
naked boy just entering puberty."

"Where do you get them?" Allan asked as we settled into
our seats.

"Here and there," Gene said noncommittally. "Ah, now here
is your boy for the night, Ishan. He will provide you
with food and drink and whatever else you may desire."

"Your friend is sick," I said to Allan who was staring at
the brown boy waiting by our table. The boy was nude like
the others and absolutely faultless, the wispy curls of
black pubic hair above his uncircumcised penis the only
clue to his age.

"Huh? What did you say?" Allan asked the boy to bring two
Obans and turned to me at last. "Who's sick?"

The stage lights came on before I could respond. A shroud
of silence descended upon the room as the show began. The
boys, seven of them, paraded onstage nude, firmly holding
the penis of the boy to his rear. They performed for an
hour, erotic, homosexual acts, concluding with a group
masturbation and a simultaneous ejaculation of sperm. The
appreciative audience, many with erections in hand or in
a boy's mouth, cheered its approval.

Ishan, silent throughout the evening, finally spoke in
fractured English. "Suck and fuck now," he said, kneeling
between us. "Man and boy make sex."

"Man and man make sex," Allan said with a twinkle in his
eye. "C'mon, Steven, let's go back to the hotel."