Date: Sat, 14 Nov 2015 01:01:10 +0100
From: Zachyboy <z.blake@mail.com>
Subject: Matthew, May I?

MATTHEW, MAY I?
By Zachyboy
M/b, oral, anal

The following story is a work of fiction. If reading about sexual
situations between a man and a boy is illegal where you live, or if it
offends you to think of such a thing, now's the time to make your quiet
exit before we get going. This is your safe word: goodbye. Otherwise, take
a seat and grab your doodly-doo, because we're about to begin.

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Now, on with the show.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

Matthew wasn't Matt, and he definitely wasn't Matty. He was 12. And he was
horny. And he was Matthew. He made all three of those things perfectly
clear.

I first met him at the lake years ago in upstate Washington where I spent
time with my nudist friends. He was the grandson of a Raymond and Shirl, a
regular couple I knew who always brought him along to give their daughter a
break for a few weeks every summer – so I literally watched Matthew grow
from a toddling 5, to a precocious 6, to an already arousing and flirty 7,
to now an impossibly beautiful and completely, graphically outspoken
12-year-old.

`You sure like looking at my cock a lot," he said to me once when he was
10.

"It's a nudist lake," I smiled at him. "Everybody looks at everybody's
cocks a lot. It's kind of in the mission statement."

"Yeah," he grinned. "But you look at mine extra."

That much was true.

"I bet you want to see it again right now, don't you?" he grinned, daring
me to say yes.

"Yes," I said. "I want to see it any time you want to show it to me."

"Say Matthew May I," he giggled. "Say Matthew May I see your cock."

"Matthew, may I see your cock."

"Yep!" he giggled and he exposed it over the rim of his swim suit. It was
pink and perfect and a little bit hard. He jutted it out and wiggled it
toward my grateful eyes.

"Maybe someday I'll let you suck on it," he teased.

"Maybe someday I'll suck on it without asking," I countered.

He giggled and said, "Oooh!" And then he was off like a shot, another
blue-balled drive-by from the little boy at the lake who'd been stealing my
heart already for years.

Matthew and I played Mario Kart one night in his grandparent's cabin. We
were all naked of course and I ran off the racetrack about fifty times,
because when you're drooling over a sweet little cocklet like Matthew's,
who gives a shit about racetrack curves and steering wheels. He beat me
easily.

"You were looking at my cock extra again," he giggled. "That's why you
always lose."

I grinned back. "If I look at your cock extra, it's only because yours is
extra cute."

And with that admission, a sweet, ongoing, flirty-dirty,
not-shy-to-talk-about-it summertime friendship was born.

Matthew was sexually sophisticated in the bold and plodding way that most
nudist boys of his age inevitably are. Faced at the earliest age with a
nonstop parade of naked people coming over for dinner and hanging out at
the beach, Matthew's view of the human form mixed the completely arousing
with the absolutely commonplace. There's a dick I'd like to go down on
versus there's a dick that's helping my grandma cook dinner. Sometimes it's
hot, sometimes it's not.

Matthew had a nonstop parade of both male and female body parts streaming
in front of him since he was just a teeny little shaver, so he saw plenty
of cocks, both child and grown-up versions. Tits and pussies. Dicks, balls
and butt cheeks. Cocks of men. Cocks of kids. Long ones, short ones, fat
ones, skinny ones, cut ones, intact ones. Cocks to Matthew were a dime a
dozen.

Like most naturist children, he faced sexuality the same way all the kids
who came to the lake did. With equal parts casual disinterest, burning
arousal, complete nonchalance and the utmost investigatory importance.

And it wasn't too long before he ran smack-dab into a favorite new cock of
his own.

"Did you see Danny Gallagher's dick?" he said to me at dinner one night at
his grandparents' cabin. His grandparents were in the other room, not that
they'd give a shit. They were pretty free and easy about body parts and how
boys and girls played with them.

"He's got a nice one," Matthew informed me. "And he's got a little mole on
his balls."

"What are you doing close enough to Danny Gallagher's balls that you can
make out a mole?" I asked him.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he said, grinning, cheeky. "Maybe I was
sucking his sperms out," he dared.

"Maybe I'll give you a second course," I said quietly, grabbing my
half-chubbed dick a little and squeezing it in his general direction.

He smiled, kind of teasingly, and sauntered away, back into his
bedroom. Nude, of course, like we all were at the lake. God, I loved to
watch that kid's ass saunter away in a fine sashay. He could tease me with
those creamy boy globes any day. I found speech nearly impossible when my
eyes were full of his ass cheeks. I can barely find words to describe it,
but that's a small price to pay. May God strike me dumb forever, I thought,
as long as I can watch that ass wiggle away for two minutes
longer. Masturbatory fodder for later doesn't even come close to describing
it.

Matthew clearly was gay as a breeze even in his younger years, that much
was obvious from the moment I met him. Like the front row of a Barbra
Streisand concert, my friend Grayson would say.

Matthew was always a grabby, tactile little gaybee, and as summers turned
into other summers, he went from tickle games to some of the other boys at
the lake, to actually being caught giving one of them a blowjob a few years
ago – a kid named Todd – an activity nobody seemed to mind whatsoever
(but his grandma did tell him to do it privately from now on, and not in
broad daylight behind the boathouse). Still, you had to give him points for
courage back then, just a little sprite, but already on his 9-year-old
knees, giving head to a very appreciative 15-year-old.

"It kinda tastes like sucking your thumb," he told me afterwards. "Salty,
but a little more like pee. And the pubes on top kinda smell like armpits,
only softer, like the volume's turned down."

I think I may have moaned out loud.

His advances to me were first sweet and coquettish, then more complicated
and layered. He brushed up against me. Shook his swim-suit clad ass at me
while walking down the path. Purposely showed me his ass at 10. Talked
dirty mostly nonstop. He used to bend over to pick things up on the hiking
trails when I walked behind him. Pine cones. Rocks. Anything to show me his
asshole. His beautiful, cock-aching, pristine little pink asshole. Lord, I
stopped dead in my tracks when the faintest flash of that sweet starfish
appeared. Apparently he already knew what that hole was for and how men and
boys wanted to use it.

On his 12th summer, he swam with me in the lake, and it was one of those
swims where he wouldn't let my body go. He was unusually graspy, even for
Matthew. A little sex wood tick. He just wouldn't stop hugging me, groping
me and grinding into me. In the lake, legs wrapped around me. Arms around
my neck. Whisper-giggle-dirty-talk-goofiness in my ear. I grew boner-steel
hard and he could feel it and it just egged him on more. He found reasons
to bump into my hard cock with his legs and his hands. He squeezed it. He
fondled it boldly. I let him.

And then, after the swim was over, he told me he just been fucked that
weekend by Danny Gallagher, the same bigger boy in the cabin next door he'd
been cock-eyeing for years. Mole-on-the-balls, big boy Danny Gallagher. And
that Danny fucked him really good and got his tingles right straight up his
butt and squirted his cum up inside.

"He wanted it really bad," Matthew bragged.

"How do you know that?" I asked him casually, hoping for some tips. "What
gave you the clue he wanted to fuck you?"

"Oh, there was no clue," Matthew said. "It was pretty easy to figure out."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. We were messing around down in the boat house," Matthew said
casually, like it was no big deal, "and just came right out with it. He
asked me if he could suck my cock and stick his finger up my butt."

"And you said yes?"

"No shit, Sherlock, I said yes."

"What did his finger up your butt feel like?" I asked him. Lucky finger.

"Kinda long," he answered. "Kinda pokey and diggy."

"Yeah, they're kinda skinny and bony in there," I agreed, remembering one
or two up my own at his age, particularly from Joel, the man who bedded me
when I was 14. Damn, he had some diggy fingers.

"It felt good," Matthew said, "but then I told him I bet he could fit
something bigger up there."

"Oh yeah?" I said, trying not to cum in white gush of spontaneous
cumbustion. I wanted this edging to last so I could jack off to the image
of it later.

"Then what did he do?" I egged him on.

"Then he took his cock out."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. His whole cock came out in about one-point-five seconds."

"Nice."

"Yeah. Nice and hard."

"Was it hard already?"

"Oh yeah. It was WAYYYYY hard."

"And he just stuck it in your butt? Boom? Just like that?"

"Nah, he made me suck it a bunch first. You know. Get it slippery with spit
and stuff."

"Whoof. What'd it taste like, Matthew?"

"What do you think it tasted like, doof? It tasted like a guy's cock."

"Humor me."

He sighed. Looked at me like I was an idiot.

"Kinda pee flavored," he shrugged. "Like he missed a shower or two. It
smelled kinda musty."

"Did you get it all in your mouth? You know. Down your throat?"

"Oh sure," he said casually. "It's big, but not that big. I got it all
in. I'm not a baby."

"And how did he fuck you? Standing up? On your tummy? Doggie style?"

"Doggie style? What's doggie style?"

"You don't know what doggie style is? Seriously?"

"How am I supposed to know that stuff? I'm a kid!"

"Fine. I'll tell you later. How'd he fuck you?"

"On my tummy. Up my butt. He laid on top of me. He grunted a lot when he
did it. He called me the B-word."

"Did he stick it in fast or slow?"

"Pretty fast. And he didn't last long. The more he called me the B-word,
the more grunty he got."

Matthew did a deeper-voiced impersonation of Danny Gallagher: "Take it
bitch, oh yeah, you hot little fuck boy, take it bitch," and then he
giggled at his own pseudo-mockery.

"Did it hurt when he fucked you like that?"

"Nah," Matthew bragged. "It was okay. I know how to take it. I practice
with stuff. Cucumbers. My grandma's hair brush."

Wow, I thought, imagining Shirl fixing her hair in the morning, not
realizing her hand was wrapped around ten cc's of her grandson's dried
rectal paste.

"So, all in all it was a good experience, huh?"

"Oh yeah," he said. "For sure, it was great. I always knew he wanted to cum
up my butt, and, well, he did."

"So that was that."

"Yep," he nodded. "That was that."

There was a brief pause.

"You want to cum up my butt sometime too, right?"

He eyed me with doe eyes. Actually batted those beautiful fuckers at me.

"What makes you think I want to cum up your butt?" I said shakily. "I'm a
grown-up. You're a kid."

"So?" he shrugged. "Kids get fucked by grown-ups all the time, right?"

"Well..."

"Didn't you get fucked by a grown-up when you were a kid?"

"I – well – "

"I heard my grandma telling my grandpa. She said you confounded in her."

"Confided," I said. "And yeah. His name was Joel. He was my man friend. I
was 14."

"And he was your friend enough to cum up your butt, right?"

"Well, yeah. Kind of more complicated than that, but..."

"Okay then," he said, and I could tell he was pronouncing this debate
over. "Then guys your age occasionally cum inside kids my age, right?"

"Right," I admitted.

"All right then. Problem solved."

Matthew repeated his earlier speculation; that I did indeed want to cum up
his butt. And that I'd probably wanted to cum up his butt for the last few
years now, because he noticed my dick got hard every time he said sex stuff
to me. And I didn't even try to deny it because we both knew it was
absolutely true.

"Did you want to fuck me in the water when we were swimming like that?" he
asked me. "You know, when I was hanging onto you and grabbing your dick and
stuff? Because I read a story once on Nifty once where the guy fucked the
kid under the water, and people were on the beach, just fifty feet away,
but nobody could see them fucking."

"Well, first of all," I told him. "Nobody can fuck anybody in the
water. Water's not lube. That story was written by a guy who's never tried
to fuck in the water, because believe me, if any guy can fuck any kid with
nothing on his cock but cold lake water, he's going to win the science fair
ribbon for impossible boners and reinventing physics."

Matthew giggled.

"I like you," he said. "You talk smart. And you're funny and dirty and nice
to me."

I nodded.

"But you're only funny and dirty and nice to me because you wanna fuck me,
right?"

He cut to the chase, but I nodded again. I did want to fuck him, and it
would be stupid and insulting to pretend I didn't. It sort of felt like
Matthew was in the driver's seat and just like Mario Kart, I was only
running into walls and holding on for dear life. Still, giving him one more
opt out, I lumped myself in with all the other nearby flora and fauna.

"Matthew," I told him, "every single person at this lake wants to fuck
you. I mean, good for Danny Gallagher for finally getting up your pretty
snatch, because believe me, that's like the bulls eye fantasy of everyone
else in a twenty cabin radius."

He blushed proudly but let me continue.

"The men here want to fuck you. The boys here want to fuck you. The women
and girls here, I don't know. Maybe they want you to suck their tits while
you finger their asses, but shit, Matthew. Even the wildlife here want to
fuck you. I'd be surprised if there's not a raccoon out there in the woods
right now, jacking his cock wanting to stick it up your shithole."

Matthew giggled. "I'm so horny all the time, I'd probably let him."

"Good for you," I smiled. "Get as much hard cock as you can while you're
young. Get fucked every day if you can find the right playmates."

"Can I get some of you?" he smiled, clearly flirting. "Will you playmate me
up the ass?"

"You can get some of me whenever you're brave enough. I'll playmate you
like you've never been playmated before."

He paused. "I'm not too young?"

"Of course you're too young," I told him. "That's the whole fucking
point. Fuck, Matthew. I'm only human. I mean, Jesus. Look at you. You're
perfect."

"I don't feel perfect," he shrugged. "I feel kind of gangly. And
skinny. And not big enough in my cock department yet."

"Well, you're wrong. You're twelve. You're beautiful. You're perfect. Your
cock department has every man and boy here meowing like a cat in heat. You
may not know it yet, but you'll never be this perfect, ever again. Not in
any other year of your life."

"I wish I had pubes," he said.

"I wish you'd never grow any pubes at all. Ever. May I curse you now with
never a pube. Because that would be a blessing to every man who ever has
the honor of seeing you naked.

He nodded. Seemed to understand this.

"I know a lot of men here at the lake want to stick it in me," he said
perceptively. "When they're around me alone, their touches change. When
it's in front of my grandparents, it's kind of just a funny tickle
games. One guy says "I got your goosle," and then he tickles me all over my
neck and stuff. But I can feel all his fuck energy underneath. I already
know he wants to fuck me."

Matthew reached down his own pants a little. Clearly his own little talk
was getting him hard. The sweet, hot memory of being lust-tickled by
grown-ups.

"But when guys like him get me more alone," he continued, "it's more like
they suddenly get real quiet and rub my shoulders and stuff. And they want
to rub my back. And sometimes they even rub my legs. Higher up like they
want to rub my dick, but they're scared. And then I really know they want
to fuck me. It's like a blinking red light in the air. It's so huge you can
see it."

"We all want to fuck you," I admitted quietly. "We just don't know if
you'll tell."

"I won't tell," he said simply. "I wish they'd all stop being chicken and
just do something with me. I'm not a baby, Michael. I know how to do this
now."

"Oh, that part is pretty clear," I said. "I think you've always been really
well educated about this stuff."

"So, if somebody's going to stick it in me while I'm here, and you know
somebody's going to someday, right?"

I couldn't argue with logic like that. True enough. Eventually some lucky
guy out here would pull a Danny Gallagher and shoot the first man-sized
load up Matthew's near-virgin ass.

"So if somebody's gonna fuck me anyway," he said, daring me to correct his
math, "I kinda wish it would just be you, not somebody else who's always
chicken and doesn't even know how to get it started. With you I can just
say, let's fuck. And you really might do it, right?"

"Matthew," I said, looking him right in the eye, "I'll fuck you any time
you want me to."

"Good," he said. "Because I really want to get fucked."

"Good," I said. "So let's do it then."

He looked determined, but then added quickly, "Will it hurt?"

"Yep," I told him. "It hurts a lot at first.. But then it feels better."

"Good," he said. "Then figure out when you're gonna fuck me. Because I want
to see what it feels like with a man."

I closed my eyes and imagined. Thought back to my own boyhood.

"Fuck me like you got fucked," he dared. "Joel me up my ass."

Message received.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

Later that week, Raymond and Shirl wanted to go back into town for the
night, check some things at their house, take care of some banking and
bills and boring grownup things, so they left Matthew in my cabin, with the
promise of "he'll be a good boy for you, won't you Matthew," although I
already knew he'd be DAMN good, just not in the way they were predicting.

The afternoon hit the midway point, and Matthew and I, feeling like
honeymooners about to consummate, dicks so hard they were almost ready to
burst, waved goodbye to Shirl and Raymond from the porch of my cabin,
closed the door, went inside, and quietly began the culmination of what
we'd both known was coming since Matthew was only ten years old.

"You're really, REALLY gonna fuck me tonight, right?" he asked me when we
were alone, and walking along a private path along the lake, hand in hand
and almost silent, thinking about the evening to come. "I mean, you're not
just making it up and you're gonna chicken out or something. That's why you
told my granddad and grandma you'd keep me all night, right? So you can
finally fuck me right up the butt? For true? For real?"

I nodded at the simplicity of his question.

"For true. For real," I told him.

I wish I could be noble here and add one of those romantic boylover
storytime moments where the man says, "Matthew, we'll only go as far as you
want. We can do anything you want tonight, and whenever you get scared, or
if anything hurts too much, we can stop right away."

But I couldn't bring myself to say it. I had to be honest with him.

"Yeah," I said simply. "Tonight I'm going to fuck you in the butt. Probably
really deep and probably pretty hard before it's over."

He giggled. "It's going to hurt like holy hell up there, isn't it?" he
smiled.

"Well. It's going to be a new one for you, that's for sure" I admitted,
trying to downplay the potential discomfort, not wanting to scare him off.

"I'm not a baby," he reminded me. "I've had a dick in my butt before, you
know. Danny Gallagher fucked me three whole times now. And he fucks hard."

"How big is Danny?" I asked him.

He held his fingers apart, maybe five short inches.

"And how thick?" I asked him.

He made a diameter circle with his forefinger and his thumb.

"Well," I told him. "I'm this much bigger in length." I demonstrated with
my fingers. "And I'm this much thicker around."

His eyes bugged out. He whistled softly, respectfully.

"How much bigger around?" he whispered nervously.

I showed him again.

"Wow," he whistled again. "Yep, you're right. That's going to be a new one
for me."

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

After a light dinner that wouldn't fill his bowels – you sure don't need
that kind of pressure when you're 12-years-old and trying to hold your
insides together for your first unknown jaunt into manfuck territory –
he gave me some casual small talk that wasn't fooling anybody, then simply
looked at me, shrugged, and said, "Okay. Let's do the fucking part
now. Before I chicken out."

"Okay," I shrugged and agreed. "Let's do the fucking part," trying to sound
way more nonchalant and unconcerned about it than my pounding heart and my
screaming libido were telling me inside the hot, horny rollercoaster of my
mind.

We lay down on my bed together, still dressed in our sweats and t-shirts
from our walk around the lake. He was kind of sweaty, salty and boyishly
musky, and I was about to discover that I liked that taste and flavor on
him. A lot.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted sheepishly. And this time his
dirty-talk bravado was gone. The reality of this had finally taken the wind
out of his sails. And for now at least, he just looked 12, and nervous, and
delicate, and scared. My heart melted and my dick settled down a notch. He
wasn't just sex. He was a beautiful boy.

I reached up and stroked the soft prettiness of his face.

"Shhh," I told him. "It'll be okay. Nobody knows what to do when they first
lay down. It just sort of happens by itself. Sort of one little move at a
time."

"Oh," he said, and I saw him gulp a little, bracing himself. "Don't make it
hurt, okay?"

"Okay," I lied. "It'll all feel perfect."

I wished it could make it painless, of course, but we all know it doesn't
work that way. Not the first time anyway. It feels really big. And
sometimes big hurts a little.

I remember the first time Joel fucked me and I was afraid I was going to
crap on his bedsheets. And I giggled thinking back to the nervous, needful
nelly I truly was that first time.

"What's so funny?" Matthew said defensively.

"Nothing," I said. "It's not you. I was just remembering the first time I
was where you are. I was scared. Big time scared. And it's just weird how
it always starts out nervous and fearful and how that totally disappears in
about ten seconds once you start doing stuff."

"Yeah," he smiled. "It was that way with Danny too. The first time he
fucked me, I thought he was gonna faint. He was more scared that I was. And
I was the one who got the dick up my butt."

"Come here," I smiled. "Let's hug. Let's cuddle."

And we did. Wrapped in memories of them and each other, we cuddled like
puzzle pieces who were meant to fit together. With a sigh and surrender of
acquiescent relaxation, joined in my embrace, melted into my waiting arms,
and we were finally on our way.

The big brass bed was lit by moonlight through an open window, making him
look baby blue, casting him in all sorts of amazing shadows and
promises. And as he pressed up against me, his body felt wonderful from the
top to the bottom. Oh Lord. Especially the bottom.

I held his face in my hands, marveled again at his soft, quiet beauty, and
pulled him toward me for a kiss.

He gasped as our lips met. It took him by surprise, as electricity is
expected to do.

Our tongues met faster than I imagined they would. His was hungry and not
shy at all as it found its way into my mouth, wrestling with mine and
exploring its limits. He seemed to want to eat my mouth alive, all new at
this, an unpolished and hungry, but with cues from me, he slowly tapered
off into sweet swirling whimper licks, knowing there was no rush at all.

He knew from my lead he could nibble and taste, gently taste lips, and that
no one tonight would be rushing to a finish. To love a boy is amazing. To
love a boy slowly and have him realize he can love you back just as slowly,
is sublime.

My hands massaged their way down his back and rested on the curve of his
pert, pliant globes. Through his sweats, I let my finger dig a trail
through the sweet, warm furrow of his endangered maidenhood. I squeezed and
kneaded his cups like bread dough. His dick was a little rocket pressing
against me.

"So good," I whispered as I stroked his little buttocks. He dry humped my
tummy. Panting. Voice shaking.

"Do it in me," he whispered. "With your cock. With your wiener. Do it in
me."

I moaned and pulled him to me, kissing him even deeper. His tongue flicked
circles around mine and it enraptured me, the diminutive size and shape of
it, doing something so grown up. His mouth, his tongue. So tiny, so
childlike, but already so good at this.

My hands continued to stroke the covered curve of his rounded rump. He
groaned a needful, treble whimper as I cupped and squeezed his perfect
ass. A sweet soprano fuckneed. I could tell he'd wanted to be felt like
this for so long, ached for it, this powerful squeezing from a man, not a
boy.

"Please take my pants off," he begged. "Please do some butt stuff to me."

"Nice and slow," I whispered to him. "Nice and slow."

He wasn't wearing any underwear and neither was I. I'd seen his blue briefs
wadded in a corner in the bathroom. When he peed before bed, he'd purposely
shucked them off, anticipating where the night was going. We both knew the
night was made for fucking. Undies were one less impediment to worry about.

"Right down here," I told him softly, running my hand down inside his
sweats to feel his warm bare ass, and letting my finger take a slow, sweaty
trip from the bottom of his ass crack to the top. "I'm gonna fuck you right
down here."

My finger found middle ground and pressed gently on his tight, tacky
hole. He cried out like a million fireflies had surrounded him and bucked
his hips against me hard. For a minute I thought he had cum from the touch
of my fingertip to his anus, but then he caught his breath and pressed back
hard against my finger, urging me forward. Wanting it in him.

"Please," he whispered. "Take my clothes off. I didn't wear much. Please."

Even at 12, Matthew knew enough to dress light for playtime. I eyed-up the
shape of his tight, bubbly buns and the outline of his freeballing little
cock rocket under his sweat pants as a sign of eagerness on his part and a
true green light to proceed fully invited.

"You feel so strong to me," he whispered. "So big. Like power I can't pull
up from." I could hear the awe in his voice.

"You feel soft," I whispered quietly. "Like everything I've ever
wanted. Exactly like I knew you'd feel."

He cuddled himself into my arms, total surrender, smelling of nutmeg and
pine cones and a thousand hints of boy. There was soap from his last
shower, pre-pubescent spicy promise from his underarms, and a deeper,
rolling, enveloping musk from his hike-sweaty boy parts down below. The
pheromones were tangible. A boy in heat and ready to be fucked. I smelled
my finger, just faintly scented from his sweet, fragrant ass crack. What
remained was heavenly.

"Let me lift your shirt off, Matthew."

"Okay," he whispered softly, still lost in my kisses and raising his arms
like an obedient, sleepy child at bedtime. A boy in hypnosis, just quietly
waiting for the fuck to happen.

I took my time, slowly hiking his shirt up, past his tight tummy and his
adorable innie belly button, up past his ribs, all shiny and showing, past
the cusp of his nipples like little brown dimes, and over his scruffy hair,
still damp and unkempt from the day's tag-along puppyhood.

"Oh, Matthew," I whispered as I took in his perfect, bare chest. "You're
beautiful. You know that, don't you? Jesus. Just perfect."

He sighed happily and burrowed his head into my neck. Rubbing his hair into
me, like a cat nudging for love. It must feel good for him, I thought, to
finally be told how pretty he was. He knew it of course. He just never
heard it uttered by a man who wanted to make love to him.

"You make me feel good," he said in a voice on the verge of tears, nuzzling
into me. "You make me feel special all the time. And not afraid."

He looked at me deeply, right in the eyes.

"I'm not afraid, Michael," he repeated, all seriousness. "I'm not afraid
for you to do this to me."

"I know," I said soothingly. "You're very, very brave."

He kissed me hungrily, flirting with his tongue. Teasing. Licking. "I'm not
afraid for you to fuck me with your big, hard cock," he whispered
dirtily. "You can fuck me as fast as you want now. You can stick it in me."

I ran my hands up the nakedness of his small chest and he shivered at my
gentle touch. Bracing him upward and into me, I let my lips kiss the
softness of his skin, let my tongue tease and then lightly suck each
nipple. He grasped my head when I did this and pulled me into him closer.

"Oh!" he gasped. "I didn't know – "

He didn't know it could feel so good, my silent mind continued. That's what
he wanted to say, but it felt so good, so new and amazing, he couldn't get
the words out.

I reached for his small, soft hand and I placed it on my cock, which was
fully hard and waiting for his touch.

The cock that would marry his rectum in a moment.

The cock he'd remember for the rest of his life.

He gasped when he touched it. Marveled at the power of it. This was no
boy's cock, slender and slapdash. This was a man's cock, full of a need and
seed, and it wasn't going to stop until it made Matthew's slippery insides
its baby holder.

"You're so hard," he whispered breathlessly. "Did I do that?"

"You've always made it hard, Matthew," I whispered. "Every night I've ever
seen you. Every night I've ever been with you, it's been this hard because
of you. Since you were six years old."

He sighed. He cooed. He cuddled up into me. Held my cock in his warm hand
and squeezed it through my sweat pants. Stroked it up and down. I needed to
put it in him, and we both knew it.

"I'm going to take your pants off now," I told him softly.

"Say "Matthew, may I?'" he giggled.

"Matthew, may I?" I pleaded softly, nibbling at his lip.

"Oh yes," he whispered, arching his back and pressing his hard covered
penis against me. "Please, Michael. Yes."

I hitched my fingers into the elastic of the waistband and slowly slid them
down.

"I'm scared," he whispered.

"I know," I told him, and I continued to remove his sweats.

His penis actually jumped out with an audible snap as it cleared the
waistband of his pants, which he quickly squiggle-shucked down with his
feet, helping me remove them entirely.

As he did, I lifted my own t-shirt over my head, and scooted my own sweats
and undies off in a smooth, swift removal that took all of ten seconds. We
were both lying next to each other now, totally naked and hard in the
moonlight.

"This is important, right?" he said as he looked into my eyes. "It's
big. It matters."

Not so much a question on his part, but a realization.

"It's very important," I told him with a kiss to the tip of his nose. "I
think you have no idea."

We kissed again. Naked, warm and together.

Once upon a time, I was a Loved Boy like Matthew. I had a man who
befriended me, and loved me, and took my sweet virginity, which admittedly
was precarious and hanging by a thread, but this man who I loved and
admired so dearly, took a maddening chance that I wouldn't turn him in –
you're insane to fuck a boy – and walking that high wire, he loved me
back in every sense of the word, and my life was never the same again.

And Matthew, sweet Matthew, if I could only give a piece of that same gift
to you. An ounce, a taste of the love I once felt in the arms of
Joel. Powerful. Profound. For a brief, shining summer, he was my
everything.

Matthew kissed me again and I reached my fingers down to feel his spike
between my thumb and my forefinger. The little shaft was so unyielding it
could have been carved out of marble. It was granite and boybone. The kind
of sculpted stiffy that has long-since snapped off the museum statues. The
spoils of war. I couldn't imagine a boy boner any harder.

He sucked in air through his teeth as I stroked him up and down.

"Don't do it too much, don't do it too much," he warned me quickly. "It's
gonna go off. I'll get my tickles if you don't stop. I'm almost there now."

He wanted to wait. So sweet. He didn't yet realize he'd be getting his
tickles about five times tonight, if I had anything to say about it. Still,
I backed off for his sake. Squeezed his perfect ass again. Tenderly
fingered his hole, but just the outside. I didn't yet finger fuck him
fully.

"Can I suck your cock, Matthew?" I asked him quietly. "Can I put your
pretty peter in my mouth? Matthew, may I?"

"I'm almost cumming already," he said breathlessly. "Can I suck yours
instead?"

By way of an answer, I cupped the sides of his head in my hand, and
nudge-lowered his sweet freckle face into my warm waiting dickspot. He
stopped and tickled his nose against my pubes, long enough to breath in
deeply, really smell them and utter, "Oh my God, that's strong. I love that
smell. It's sexy. It's dirty. It makes me want to do anything for you."

His mouth was on me in a shot. I tried to coax him down on my bone slowly,
but Matthew was hungry and not to be denied. At first he went down on it so
fast he gagged instantly, squeezed his watery eyes shut and had to steady
himself with a hand on my hip. But then he relaxed, slowed down, found his
rhythm and as I closed my eyes and my head back, he absolutely took me away
to the staggering depths of throat and memory.

"Am I doing it right?," he mumbled through a long strand of drool. "Is it
feeling okay on you?"

"Oh, Matthew, you're doing just fine. "It's feeling really good on me. Go
deeper, baby. Take it all in your throat if you can."

He did as I asked with a couple more gags, but with absolute commitment.

"Good," he mumbled. "Good-tasting cock."

It's almost impossible to put into words how beautifully this child sucked
my dick. He did it gracefully. Slowly. Expertly, with measured rhythm and
amazing variation. Mother of God, he even stopped halfway through to lick
my taint and the creases between my thigh and my sack. He taint-licked me,
this child. He knew enough to do that.

God almighty, he even had sense enough to nibble my balls! I couldn't
believe he knew how to do that. Believe me, you don't even know what your
balls are for until a boy nibbles on them.

"Give me your cock," I whispered to him. "Come around. I want some of yours
to taste too."

I scooted him around on top of me so his groin was in my face for a 69. He
knew what to do immediately, and that little missile between his legs found
its target so fast in my mouth, it was almost a blur. One minute I was
going to tell him to push it deep in my mouth, but before I could get the
words out, he was already there, rocking in and out like he owned the
place. Which honestly, he did.

"Oh yesssssss," he hissed as he slow-pumped in and out the warm tight seal
my lips were making for him. I flicked my tongue on his tasty-salty dick
head with each instroke. I felt him tense up and shiver almost immediately,
an involuntary full-body shudder that I knew was signaling his first cum of
the evening, whether he was ready for it or not.

"Can't help it, can't help it," he gasped as he tensed. "Gonna jizz in your
mouth, gonna jizz in your mouth...unnngh...AHHH...UHHHH...AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"
And he pushed forward with all he had, and hip-locked his twitching little
cock as deep as he could and fired a round of imaginary bullets into my
mouth.

But wait! What was that? A few actual drops of sweet, clear boy nectar? Oh
yes! Oh God! It wasn't a dry cum after all! It was Karo Syrup and pure boy
nut!  Sticky pre-juice! Lord, what an honor! What a taste treat! Spermless
semen! God, so sweet! I drank it all, his tiny little grunt offering! His
first! So delicious!

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whispered at his preemie. "I had to cum. It had
to cum it all out. Did I do it too fast?"

"Shhh," I told him. "We're not nearly finished yet. Plenty of time for more
of those."

I continued to suck his twitching honey stick, making sure to capture the
remaining drops of his pretty first mess. A boy doesn't make that flavor
for long. It's a rare and limited microbrew, and God, get a taste whenever
it's offered, because there's nothing like it at any other age, I guarantee
you that.

I licked my middle finger with a big wad of spit and I pressed it up
against Matthew's tight asshole. His first cum was over. Mine was about to
get started.

"Oh God," he groaned as I diddled his private spot. That magical place
where all his life he'd been dirty and clean, dirty and clean, that crazy
dual irony of the butthole for a gay boy. It's where the poopy comes out
but where the experiments go in. He'd been plugging that hole with
who-knows-what for who-knows-how long.

It's an exit AND an entrance to a gay boy, and don't you forget it. And any
man or boy who hasn't used it at least once as an entrance before their
time runs off the clock, well, I pity them. Because straight or gay, if
you've never taken a cock up your hole, man, you are missing the reference
point of a lifetime.

"Lay on me, Matthew. Lay your ass on my face and let me eat it. Let me
taste your asshole."

"Taste my--? Eat it? he stuttered. "I don't understand. I don't know
what--?

"I want to lick your butthole now, Matthew," I demanded more firmly. "I
want to put my tongue in your ass. Matthew, may I?"

"But it's dirty. It's where I poop. Why would you want to lick my ass?"

I cut him off with a shut-up tongue kiss. Tired and impatient with his
oh-no coquettishness, I flipped him around rather roughly face down, spread
his cheeks as far as I could with my hands, and dove into his ass with my
deep-lapping tongue like it was the first food drop from the Red Cross
helicopters. Take this, I thought madly, as I tongue-probed his
rectum. Doctors Without Borders.

He instantly arched up. If he'd been standing, he would have shot four feet
in the air on his tippy-toes. As it was, his back hollowed out, his ass
came off the mattress to meet my face, and he found out right then and
there what rimming was, and why it's the second oldest magic trick in the
book. Getting a cock up your hole is presto-chango number one. But having a
man stick his tongue up your slit, that's gotta run a close second for
sure.

"Oh wow," he babbled. "Oh wow. It's good. It's hot. I never knew. I didn't
know this was part of it. I – lick it harder – lick my cunt – oh,
lick my cunt."

I was so turned on by his use of the filthy word. I knew I'd have to thank
Danny Gallagher for teaching him that one. Matthew was buns up and gyrating
his marvelous-tasting ass so far into my nose and face, I was sure I'd have
bruises in the morning. His ass flavor was bitter and sweet like
dandelions, maple and sweet glass bottles of agave nectar. The smell was
enough to make me weep with desire. I wanted to marry that smell. Rings and
all.

I ate him, and lube assisted, I started fingering his rosebud. Not one
finger, then two, then three, like the dumb stories claim. How do you stick
in three fingers? That's dumb. One's all you need. One long
forefinger. Stick it way in deep then pull firmly up. That's
north. Stretching his anal ring in each direction. Hold it up north, pull
it straight up, and count to ten.

Then take that same finger and pull it down. That's south. Pull it and
hold. And count to ten.

Matthew was panting at this point, whispering "oh yes, oh yes," because he
knew already that east and west were still to come.

Then that finger pulled firmly to the left. And I counted to ten in a
westerly fashion. And then to the right. Quietly in my mind, I counted to
ten to the east.

North, south, west, east. Stretch that ass-opening like you're spinning the
weathervane. Ten seconds apiece in all four directions and now that boy's
ready to take whatever size cock you've got for him.

I put him on his back, bent his knees up, lifted his legs and let him rest
them on my shoulders, scooted him forward and touched the tip of my
dripping hard cock to the pink, quivering gateway to his earth's best baby
hole.

"Pleeeeeeease fuck me," he cried, real tears wetting the corners of his
eyes. "Please, Michael. If you don't fuck me now, I think I'm going to
die!"

I pressed forward slightly. Just a kiss of my cock knocking on his doorway.

"Like this?" I teased. "You want me to put my slippery cock in this tiny
little hole right here?

He couldn't even talk. He just whimpered for it. Whined.

"But Matthew," I teased. "I don't think it'll fit. I think you're too
small."

"Pleeeeease," he begged. Tears were falling, so great was his need.

The time had come to deflower the boy. We'd been leading up to it all
summer, this sweet, sexy, shy-private dance, and now in the heat of my
steel straining dick and the sweet summer smell of his musky-wide asshole,
the moment was finally here.

"I love you, Matthew," I whispered quietly as I pressed forward into the
sponge-rubber tissue of his wet yielding asshole. "I'm going to put my dick
up your butt now. Really far. Really deep."

"Yessssssssssss," he whispered gratefully, feeling it begin. Having the
baby. Giving birth in reverse. "I've wanted it in me soooooo long. When
Danny fucks me, I pretend that he's you."

The admission made me moan and kiss him again. I loved this kid so
much. I'd watched him grow from pest to scamp to fuckable prize, one I
intended to win right now.

Put this fucking notch in my belt, I grunted, as I pressed my wet cock into
the last conceivable self-delusion of his heterosexuality. If he wasn't gay
up until this point, he was damn sure going to be in the next ten minutes.

"Oh God," he groaned. "I feel it. I feel it."

Then dirty, "I feel your fat thick cock in the start of my asshole, trying
to get in."

"Let it in," I whispered. "Push out. Push hard. Open up that pretty hole
for me and let me stick it in."

Slowly, painstakingly, with as much empathy as my fucklust would allow, I
slid my long, hard acre, an inch at a beautiful, wincing time up the
velvet-hot glove of his tight, squid-slippery rectum.

"Noooooo!" he cried out at the beginning of the intrusion. "Too fast, too
fast! Go slow, go slow!" He bit his lower lip, frustrated, impatient,
wanting it in, but not wanting it to hurt so much. I slowed as much as I
could without backing out. Without giving up purchase.

It was almost maddening wanting to shove it into him all in at once, in one
deep push like a baby's crowning glory, but experience told me I had to
conquer his twitching pussy in miniscule maneuvers. Too slow and I'd never
get in there, but too fast and he'd balk, pull away and retreat, fearful of
a remount, in tears or anxiety.

We found a compromise. I slowed and he adjusted.

"Better," he whispered. "Ohhhhh. Yessssssss. Better."

I let his pulsing fuckhole lead the way, pushing forward ever so slightly
and waiting for him to push back in my direction, first a millimeter, then
a centimeter, then a little big deeper, a wiggle and shove from Matthew –
my cue to bear forward and slip another healthy portion of my dick into his
gatekeeper.

The noises he made were in between grunts and moans and whimpers and
pants. I heard breathy hisses and sweet treble "nnnnnnn" groans as my dick
dug deeper into the fire-hot furnace of his pre-pubescent rectum. I watched
in real amazement as his head tilted back, his eyes squeezed shut, his
teeth gnashed and gnawed against each other with a chomp and a click, and
his fingers clasped around handfuls of bed sheets until his knuckles turned
into ten snow-capped blossoms of white.

"You're doing so good, buddy," I reassured him with a kiss, wiping his
sweaty forehead with my fingertips and a piece of the bedsheet. "Nurse,
sponge," was all I could think. "You're doing so good. You're such a good
big boy. I'm almost all the way in you now."

"Hurry...up..." he panted. "Just push. Get it in me. Get it over with."

I smiled, remembering Joel. My first time with him was punishment and bliss
too. Sometimes you just want the end of it in one fast shove. Rip the
Band-Aid. Just get it done.

My dick felt wet. I don't know if it was the lube or the natural mucous of
his ass, but in my mind, rivulets of pre-cum were already flowing up and
into him. His eyes were wide as saucers as my syrupy mating goo defied all
gravity and leaked upwards into his colon, pre-injecting his passageway and
loosening and lubricating his membranes, turning them into a slimy, wet
welcome mat for the deep impact fucking he was about to receive.

I bored forward and stuffed it up into him in one final shove. His eyes
popped out of his head. He tensed, then relaxed.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," he whispered.

"You like that, don't you?" I teased him. "You like it up deep in there,
don't you."

He sounded meek and breathless, but still full of daring. "Yeah," he
gasped. "I like cock a lot."

"How much," I teased.

"As deep as you can fuck me with it," he dared, finding his courage again.

Impressed, I upped the ante.

"You like grabbing my dick in the lake? Rubbing all over me?"

I power thrusted into him and made him grunt.

"Yeah," he grunted defiantly back. "I liked grabbing your big fat cock."

"Well here's what happened to boys who flirt," I told him. "Boys who flirt
get fucked."

He moaned again. "Oh yes," he whispered "Fuck me some manners. Teach me a
lesson."

It was a pleasure to finally slip my dick all the way into him. He'd been
teasing me for years. Every wince he made as my cock pierced its way
through his armor was mild revenge for every sweet, impudent ass-shake he'd
been shooting in my direction since before he knew what his cock was
for. Just watching his eyes bug out as my bush met his buns made me happy
to know I was the one finally taming him.

And it was more than clear he needed this too. Caused it and orchestrated
it. He wanted it and he was finally getting it. And with my man-sized dick
fully inside his little 12-year-old snapper like an SUV squeezing its way
into a compact-only parking space, I could see the pride on his face. The
effort and exertion had paid off. He'd taken all of my cock with earnest
stick-to-itiveness and now he was breathless and sweating, but elated he'd
conquered such a grown-up achievement. Check it off the bucket list, this
rock hard task up his ass.

"I can't believe it's all in there," he whispered, and his voice was
quivering. "Fuck you, Danny Gallagher," he said with a laugh. "I can take a
cock way bigger than yours is! Fuck you and your 30-second cum cock!"

"It's in," I dared him, "but can you take a load? It's one thing to put it
in. It's a whole new thing to open up and let me root you hard and cum up
your ass."

"I can do anything," he flirted defiantly. "Do whatever you want me."

Oh man. My dick grew an inch just hearing him say that. And you better
believe I wanted to take him up on the offer in the hardest way imaginable.

But ever the gentleman, and common sense in the lead, I continued to pump
in and out of him slowly. I wanted to finish in him and I didn't want to
wear him out before I did. Because make no mistake, at a certain point,
politeness is off the table and inevitability takes over.

Anyone who's gotten their dick that deep in a boy knows that "stop" becomes
a laughably old-fashioned concept. Even if a boy were to utter it, you'd be
hard pressed to comply. There's no safe word in the universe that can shut
off a cock and make it go home after it gets a taste of a hot, wet cunt
like Matthew's.

I drilled it in him deeper and he let out an "ooof."

"You like that?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he said defiantly. "Do it."

I punched forward and made him go "ooof" again.

He took a deep breath, grabbed my ass cheeks and I could see him brace
himself. It suddenly occurred to him, he'd have to hang on for dear life
for a whole lot of this.

There's that moment of truth for the boy. That moment early-on in the fuck
when he realizes that this deep, hard, gulp-creating, lump-in-the-throat
in-and-out of him isn't going to stop until the man blows his load.

It's at this early point that he realizes he's good and fucked, both anally
and figuratively. The boy might not even be shooting his own young sperm
yet, but he's certainly jacked off by now, and he's certainly gotten his
dry tingles, and he knows by this point how utterly and completely at the
mercy of momentum he is.

Whoops, he suddenly realizes, with an ass full of cock and a long way to
the exit sign. Ready or not, this thing's in him for the long haul.

And whew, beads of sweat on his forehead and smart mouth that got him into
this position in the first place, it doesn't make a lick of difference now
if he says "stop" or "go." The man's gonna do what the man's gonna do. Just
like he knows from jacking his own little mini-bone, nobody stops once
they're headed for their rainbows and sparkles, and this man's not going to
stop grunting inside his well-stretched pussy until he's done too.

"I don't care," he whispered defiantly. "I don't care how hard you fuck
me. I can take your cock. Fuck me with your big fat cock. Fuck me with it
good."

I grabbed some of his ass and then he knew exactly what momentum meant. It
means the man's in a asshole hunger that only a grand finish can satisfy
now, and like it or not, the boy's in it until the grunt goes deep and the
man blows his nut. All up his ass and the extra runs out. So much cum that
it bubbles back out and soaks the sheets under his locked-open, puffy
asshole.

"You want it," I teased him. "You want it, don't you?"

"Yeah," he grunted. "Give it to me, Michael. Fuck me like you've always
wanted to fuck me."

Little smart ass. I had half a mind to plow him extra hard just for
smart-ass spite. I'll teach him a thing or two about giving me lip.

And if it turns out the boy bit off more than his inexperienced ass can
chew, too bad, so sad, he's still on his back with his legs in the air
until the man's had enough pussy to call it a day. It's something a boy
often doesn't think about until he's got six hard inches buried straight up
his kumquat.

"Yeah," he whispered. "That's a good fuck. That's way better than Danny."

He really surrendered to it this time. I felt tightness give way to
squidgy-loose softness. Acceptance of my whole, deep-rooting shaft.

"Yessssssss," he whispered with his wet hot rectum making slurping sounds
on my cock. "So good. So deep in me now."

After his second sphincter fully loosened – because, face it, the first
one is a breeze – after the inner, deeper ring was breached, the place
where a boy really loses his anal virginity – I felt like I had too much
lube on my cock shaft and I wasn't getting the friction and resistance I
wanted, so I pulled it back out and wiped the excess off on his pert little
balls.

I slathered them one, two, three, like three spreads of mayo on a hamburger
bun. Like a fry cook in a dirty apron, spreading out lunch. Order up!
Here's a gob of ass-wet fuck sauce, and here's two more. It's all in the
wrist. My dick just ordered off the children's menu.

I could feel his ass muscles squeezing my dick hungrily like a Venus fly
trap, like they were eager for the meal of cum I was about to feed
it. Damn, he made me horny when he started squeezing his sphincter open and
shut on my slow-sliding dick meat. Just the act of him ass-nibbling on me
that way made me immediately fuck him harder and deeper.

"Danny likes this," he grunted. "He says it makes him cum faster."

"I can't believe I've made it this long," I gasped, as he squeezed me from
the inside.

He giggled. Even his fuck giggle seemed naughty to me. God, he turned me
on. I wanted to be one with his dirty little atoms. I wanted to merge with
his slutty little blood cells. I wanted to fuck the living corpuscles out
of his squidgy little cunt box, the grasping little prick tease.

By this time he was harnessed firmly to my cock, like a female bitch in the
full bloom of heat and caught by the dog next door. He was not only coping
well with the oar lock as I steadily plowed upstream, but he was actually
moaning in enjoyment and pushing back against me, making his own little
waves, enjoying his own little motion in the ocean.

"You fuck good," he told me, grabbing my ass and gyrating me into
him. "Fuck me like this way more times. WAY more times."

I think I answered, but maybe not. Speech and coherent thought were
becoming a rare commodity at this point.

"Damn," I whispered, trying to catch my breath. "Damn you smell good."

There were rich, sweet-smelling anal secretions coming out of him and
messing the sheets beneath us, not poop exactly, not lube exactly, but that
in-between froth, that light-tan, lotiony combination of all his inner
mucous and all my deeply-rutted pre-lube, making the slow ride in and out
of him an exquisite hot river ride up the deep, damp swamp of his pussy.

He started to jack himself, and I let him. None of that nonsense story
writing "slapped his hands away and made him wait and call me sir" bullshit
for me. Fuck no. If I boy wants to start stroking his dick while I'm
playing the fiddle in and out of his tight spot, all the better for me. A
happy customer's a return customer, so when he took his shiny spike between
his fingers and started twiddling it in a steady, breathless "oh..oh.." up
and down, all I did was encourage him further.

"That's it, buddy. Stroke that hot little cock. See if you can shoot it off
before I cum up your ass."

He moaned and held me tight to himself. He kissed me wetly, moaning in my
mouth. He was pliant, like putty. Like a sweating, panting rag doll. His
impoverished asshole was gulping at my dick, and still, he never lost a
stroke. Me fucking him. Him jacking off. A competition to the
finish. Complex. Complicated. But oh, so cooperative.

"Scoot up, Matthew," I coaxed. He immediately pushed up, causing my
imbedded dick to go even deeper, which made him moan loudly. He pushed even
harder at me. He butt-mashed me. He couldn't have been more compliant for a
deep one if I'd hypnotized him.

And I couldn't believe how hard I was inside him. This was no half-hard,
lackluster boner I'd have to cross my fingers and strain to get inside some
past-his-prime 40-year-old guy I met in a bar. I was fucking 12-year-old
Matthew, grandson of Raymond and Shirl, with the honest-to-Jesus, red-hot,
bona fide dick steel that only stallions possess. I felt like a breeding,
champion Derby winner.

The smell of boy ass is like Viagra to me and every time I slid my brass
monkey in and out of his twat, I realized with every gritted grunt, I was
stretching his limits and deep diving into him almost obscenely, impolite
reaction-winces.

"It hurts," he said suddenly, and I jerked in response. Almost immediately
slowed.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," he grunted. "It hurts me good I mean. It hurts in a good way."

"Oh fuck, Matthew. You're a good, dirty boy. God, I love fucking your
hole."

"Hurt me till I'm pregnant," he gritted. "Hurt me till you put a baby in my
cunt."

Oh God, I needed to cum. This is not going to be one of those impossibly
self-flattering porn stories where the man fucks the boy for 30 solid
minutes with a dick like the half-life of radium while the boy writhes
around gratefully, begging his new dick dad to make it last longer. Fuck
that shit. I wasn't even close to that hickory dickory skill level. This
motherfucker was going to be over and dripping out of his cunt in another
30 seconds.

And in the long run, that's good for the boy, to get it over faster that
first time. Sure it feels good to him, but that's just psychological. He's
conquered a mountain and turned a big emotional page. His mind and his
heart feel all grown up inside because of all that drilling in his butt
right now was a dream to live up to, and he's pleased with himself he was
able to do it like the big boys. And that feels powerful inside, and
powerful is good.

But physically speaking, his little rump is being corked to the limit, and
nobody needs a ride like that to go on for thirty-odd minutes their first
time at the rodeo. He's ready to cum and call it a day. He's got a hard,
intrusive fatness in his butt he can feel all the way up to the lump in his
throat, and after five minutes of deep-rutting, he's pretty-much ready for
it to be over until he gets his bearings for the raucous round two he
doesn't even know is coming yet.

"Are you ready to cum, buddy?" I asked him gently.

"Oh yeah," he panted. "I'm ready to shoot."

"Is your butthole getting sore?"

"No," he lied in rhythm to my thrusts. "I can go longer. It's sore now, but
it's good sore. It's good sore."

That first time with Matthew, five minutes would have been just fine, but
after giving him ten, if only to reiterate to him the stopping point was my
decision and not his, I was ready to give his aching pooper a break and
spew up his rump for humanitarian reasons.

He was tiring and tensing. The kisses were less passionate and his little
muscles stayed locked now. I saw him start to bite his lower lip, a sure
sign of the unspoken "hurry up and end this," so I clenched my nuts and got
my ducks in a row and rededicated myself to the grand finale because I knew
any more delay would be just plain greedy on my part and ultimately
uncomfortable for him.

"Do it," he whispered almost urgently, meanly, through gritted
teeth. "Squirt it in me."

And I sped my pace to quickly oblige. Because honestly, if you ever hope to
do it again, when the boy says shoot, you better start shooting. You don't
want to leave him with the feeling of, "well, that would have been good,
but he took way too long inside of me." When a boy is taking a grown-up
fuck, especially numero uno, you want to get in, get out, and get your
business done pronto.

"Oh fuck, buddy. I'm gonna cum inside your pussy now."

"Yessssssssss!" he begged as he fingernailed my flesh, grabbing into
me. "Please do it fast."

It was no heroic gesture on my part, cumming quickly the first time I
fucked him. Believe me, it felt so good inside him that first fuck, I was
already squeezing my nut muscles together at the one minute mark, quivering
and shaking and counting backwards from one-hundred, thinking of baseball
trying not to prematurely go to heaven in the euphoric nirvana of his easy
bake oven.

His eyes were rolled back in his head. Mouth open and gasping for
breath. Little Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Neck tendons strained
and flexing. He was whimpering, keening, wiggling and whining for it.

"I'm gonna cum again," he panted suddenly, tensing his body. "I'm gonna cum
again. Oh fuck, Michael! You're...gonna...make me! You're gonna make me do
it again!"

"You need it?" I teased, just a few pumps away.

"Oh yes, oh pleaaase!!! Hurry! Pleeeeease!!"

I could smell my cock and his butt in the air. The whole hot bedroom reeked
like sweet, musky boy ass and my own pubes and pheromones. I leaned down
and lapped at his mouth with my tongue. The salt from his upper lip burst
into my mouth like dirty, sexual flavor.

"Please," he chanted. "Please," he cried. "Squirt it in me! Hurry! Squirt
it in me! I gotta cum!"

His hands grasped my buttocks, pulling me in deeper, needing not just to be
bred, but to have that actual flame put out. To be inseminated and
possessed at last. To have his territory marked. There were tears in his
eyes because this was finally happening. For every gay boy everywhere, all
those years of yearnings all lead up to this.

And suddenly, bam, there it was. Like a rocket, he was cumming
again. Shaking! Twitching! Convulsing and spasming his epileptic orgasm on
the end of my sore, embedded cock.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" he screamed. "MICHAEL!!! OWWWW-EEEEEEEEE!" I'M CUMMING!
I'M CUMMING! OH FUCK ME! OH FUCK ME!!!!!!"

He was crying! Crying! Laughing! Cumming!

His need for me was impossible to describe at this point. Dirty and
unashamed. Powerful. Fierce. Feral. He grasped my ass with both of his
hands. Fingernails tore at my skin. Grunted. Pulled me so deep into his
cunt I thought I'd split him in two. Bit my lip like a little boy
vampire. I tasted copper. He panted. Howled out. Seized me. Grasping,
grappling, graphic, wild!

I threw back my head and I howled at the moon as my semen unleashed like
Niagara, and my load burst forth through my balls and urethra and blasted
its way through the hot wet deepness of his cunt.

"OH FUCKKKKKKK, OH YESSSSSSSSS, OH NNNNNNNNGGGGHHHH," I babbled
incoherently, crying out his name as I viciously inseminated his guts,
leaving him gasping, heaving, praying. He was stomach-jerking, weeping for
the mad, final joy of it. He'd entered this bed Pinocchio but he'd just
become a real boy at the pulsing, gobbing, cunt-creaming Jesus-end of my
fat throbbing fuckstick.

"Oh Michael," he panted. "Oh Michael, that felt so good. That was in me so
deep. I wanted that for so long. So much. I can't believe we finally did
that!" And then he was a mess of tears, grasping onto me, holding me,
loving me so tightly it hurt. He couldn't speak sensibly anymore. He was
laughing. And crying. And hugging me, and pulling me into him deeper.

"Oh buddy," I whispered. "You were so brave, Matthew. So good. Such a big
boy."

And my mouth was on his face everywhere. Kissing his lips, kissing his
eyelids. Licking the wet salty tears from his cheeks, feeling him laughing
and hugging me, kissing back. It was a moment I'll remember for the rest of
my life, burned into my heart like a fiery boy brand.

"I love you, Matthew," I whispered gently.

And then in my heart, "I love you, Joel."

I fucked Matthew two more times that night and we sucked each other off in
between. Four orgasms for me. Five for him. Not a bad night's work for two
old friends finally making the leap.

Summers rolled into other sweet summers. Some with just us, a few with
Danny Gallagher who joined in with us later.

But Matthew and I were just beginning. I loved him all the way through his
childhood. And all through his teen years. And even now that he's 26 and
gay, he's the same sweet boy who showed me his cock and flirted so
shamelessly. I still love Matthew every chance I get. In his body and in my
heart. Every time we meet. And he never grows old. He's always 12 and
perfect to me.

There are Peter Pan moments at the lakes of our memories. Shores and trees
and hiking trails of pixie dust. It all becomes a Neverland we rarely come
back from. Lost and grateful. Fulfilled and nostalgic.

I'd like to live there forever with you, Matthew. Would it be okay if I
kept you in my heart?

I'd be honored to do that and love you that way.

Matthew, may I?

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z.blake@mail.com
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#zachyboy