Date: Fri, 11 Jul 2014 08:57:06 +0200
From: Zachary Blake <z.blake@mail.com>
Subject: Tales From the Male Bag: Bed Wrestling

TALES FROM THE MALE BAG:
BED WRESTLING
by Marky, as told to Zachyboy

(M/b, wrestling, oral, anal)

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Now, on with the show.

**** Our next story in the Male Bag is heartfelt and true; a story of
patience and yearning, tension and payoff. An aching, second-chance story
for the man and boy involved. Sometimes people's emails to me are sexy and
fun, but others like this one are just incredibly intense, wildly eroitc
and and beautifully haunting, all at the same time. This writer's skillful
economy of prose and super-charged erotic delay made it even more powerful
and fascinating. Thank you, Marky, for a beautiful story, tenderly
recalled, full of electricty, and an ending we're all cheering for by the
time we get there.

Marky wrote to me:

"About 21 years ago, I was still trying to tell myself that being a
boy-lover was just a phase that would pass.

I thought as I aged, the age of the boys I was attracted to would also age
at the same rate.

Not true.

I was in college and looking for a cheap place to live.

I looked at a room a woman showed me, and it was as close to perfect as I
could get.

But she had a drop-dead gorgeous 10-year-old son living with her, and that
might be a problem.

At first glance, I knew I WANTED him.

It was instant desire. He was beautiful.

And somehow I just "knew" that he had already been fucked, just by the look
in his eyes as he looked back at me.

It was a look that said, "hey, I know who you are."

"I know why you're looking at me like that."

"I know what you want from me."

And he smiled at me. Teasingly. Flirtingly.

He had done this before, I thought.

Almost instantly.

I couldn't believe it was true.

But if it were, there couldn't possibly be a better boy to play with than
one who had already been played with.

So I moved in, and as soon as I finished unpacking, he came running in and
jumped on my bed.

That forced me to tackle him and we started wrestling.

That first wrestling match took place in front of his mom, so as far as he
knew that first time, I wasn't about to try anything then.

But in later wrestling sessions when his mom wasn't nearby, I felt a "need"
to "test him," to see what he'd do.

I pinned him as if I was about to screw him – on his back, legs pushed
up, me on top between them.

I got him like that and he didn't resist.

Just looked up at me. Just smiled.

So I got more agressive. I got WAY closer. I stared right in his
eyes. Hungry.

I brought my crotch to within an inch of his while looking at him. Straight
in the eyes.

My fully-clothed but hard dick was about to press up against his
fully-clothed ass.

It was moving in and centimeters away from making contact with him.

He didn't move, but he shot me an angry look, which told me to stop.

And I did.

He'd gone as far as he wanted to go the minute I "faux mounted" him and
started to move in.

But he hadn't resisted in the least when I pinned him and pushed his legs
up.

Just balked at the dick moving in.

I felt that confirmed that he had indeed been in that position before.

Something about him made me believe he'd been like that.

Like he knew what was going on.

And not in a guesswork way.

In an "I've done this before" kind of way.

But he wasn't letting me in, that was for sure.

Missile target shut down. Instantly, with one angry glance. Mission abort.

I let him up, and we continued play-wrestling.

We play wrestled every day. He always started it, and I loved it.

I got boners all the time while wrestling with him.

I hid them from him by rolling onto my stomach.

When I did, he would jump on top of my back, grinding wildly at my ass.

He had boners too. Bigger than I would have imagined.

He'd grind them up against my fully clothed ass, but the second I'd even
remotely grind back against him, he'd shut down.

Climb off.

Look pissed.

I couldn't figure it out at all. He was sexy, but mad about it.

He started things, then got pissed and sullen the minute I reacted in
pleasure.

So, I hid my boners from him as much as I could.

He pretended not to notice them even though I'm sure he was aware of them,
since that first time I tried to press my clothed one into his ass crack.

So we just pretended I didn't get hard.

I continued to hide them from him, even as I was jacking off nightly to the
fantasy of getting him alone in a hotel room.

Having him initiate sex with me.

Sitting his liberally-lubed ass on my liberally-lubed dick.

Or vice-versa.

I wasn't really sure just who would be fucking who if this scenario ever
played out.

He was very, very aggressive.

Agressive, then instantly angry.

For about the next month we continued wrestling. Sometimes his little
sister would join us, but I had absolutely no interest in her at all. To
me, she was just invisible background noise.

She stayed way out of our way, afraid we'd bump into her.

He was so rough.

Eventually, she'd always get bored and just wander away.

Mostly it was just the two of us alone, me and him.

He'd come running into my room when I got home from school, and start
jumping on my bed giggling and singing "I'm jumping on the bed, jumping on
the bed, jumping on the bed!"

Repeat ad-infinitum, until I tackled him and we started wrestling.

We'd keep going until I got a boner and rolled on my stomach to "hide" it
from him.

The tip was just under the button of my tight Levi's and I was afraid if I
blew off while we were wrestling, some might shoot on him.

And God knows what he'd do if that came to pass.

As much as I tried to hide it, he'd still steal glances at my bulge as I
disengaged to roll on my stomach.

And he always smiled.

Pretended it wasn't there, but sure as hell smiled a lot, knowing that it
was.

But he never went further.

Then one day I was leaving the house to a semi-secluded place I often went.

He told me he wanted to come too.

I told him to ask his mom.

He ran in the house and called her on the phone.

He had a live-in maid who watched him while his mom was out.

He came running out excited, yelling "She said yes!"

I told him, "Get in and buckle up."

I was nervous because if something sexy were to happen, this seemed the
most likely time for it to happen.

I started the car and we pulled into the street.

He got quiet and withdrew.

For no reason, I thought. I hadn't said anything.

Still, he was looking at me with anger.

I was worried. I didn't know what was up.

I hadn't tried anything even slightly sexy with him since the time I tried
to mount him.

I had gone out of my way NOT to be misunderstood.

I sure as hell wanted him, but if anything sexy were to happen between us,
I had decided long ago, he would have to start it, and we'd go from there.

"I want to TELL you something," he snapped to me, looking at me with
burning, angry eyes.

He paused. Glared at me.

"I like SOME parts, but not that OTHER THING!"

I stayed quiet. Let him finish.

"I've already done THAT. With my friend. From school. And I don't want to
do it again."

"Okay," I said. "Did your friend..."

"I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!", he yelled.

Then he turned away from me, arms across his chest.

Wow, I thought. That was intense.

What is he thinking now, I thought.

Is he thinking, "Now he knows I've already done THAT, and he'll just want
to do THAT to me anyway?"

I felt about 2 centimeters tall, because honestly I still DID want to to
THAT.

I thought of a friend giving him a fumbling initiation that didn't work
out, and it made me sad for him, but (and I hated myself), HOT for him all
at the same time.

A million thoughts and feelings swirled through my head.

I was jealous of the lucky little boy who had nailed him before his 10th
birthday, but wished he'd shown a little more patience. Tenderness.

I knew he didn't want to talk about it, but my mind was clamoring for the
HOT details of his first fuck.

No luck, though. He'd shut down the topic before I could even start it up.

Maybe he'd done it with his friend several times?

A friend who was just sort of bumbling at it? At the "THAT" part?

But when I looked over at him, he didn't look angry anymore.

Just bored.

Zooming his hand out of the open window like an airplane. Humming.

Then he turned that perfect face with it's doe eyes and he smiled at me.

A sexy smile. A flirty smile.

"You like THAT part, don't you?"

My heart raced.

"You want to do THAT part with ME! HA!"

And with that, he stuck out his tongue, turned away, and looked out the
window again, completely in control.

FUCK! This kid was driving me CRAZY!

My dick was so hard it was about ready to jump out of the car.

Pulsing. Leaking in my pants.

I knew I would jack off good tonight.

Fuck, would I jack off.

We continued the short trip.

He somehow kept track of the time without ever asking for it, and told me
when we had to leave to get back to his house.

He was still smiling and flirty, three hours later.

He told me in front of his mother that he'd enjoyed the trip.

That I was so nice to him.

That I liked to be extra special nice to him.

I got embarassed.

I told him I was glad he came.

Brushed it off.

His mother looked at us quizzically, then went back to her busy world.

I jacked off that night thinking about how hot it was to be wrestling with
an ABF boy on a daily basis.

ABF. Already Been Fucked.

"Already been fucked, already been fucked," I grunted to myself as I shot a
hot load of cum all over my stomach. "Already been fucked."

He continued wrestling with me, always starting it up.

I kept trying to hide my erections, but now, worried even more about any
misinterpretations of "THAT!" I now constantly worried about accidentally
touching his crotch or ass by mistake.

I was worried he'd tell on me if I did.

His mom was already raising eyebrows at the little hints he always managed
to drop.

Implying that I was "interested" in him.

And fuck. Of course I was.

I was afraid he'd get mad for no reason and blackmail me.

He was very much in-control of this "relationship."

Very bossy. Very demanding.

A day later he asked me for an expensive birthday present.

I wondered how many other pervs would demand some sexual contact in
exchange.

I wondered if he'd tell on me if I didn't.

Make something up.

Make the wrestling sound worse than it was.

Dirtier somehow.

Me more agressive, when I really wasn't, not after that first time he
rejected me.

So when he asked for an expensive present, I bought it for him.

I wanted to.

I wanted to make him happy.

But I also wanted to keep myself safe.

Not take chances.

He was that hard to anticipate.

To figure out.

And yes, I felt guilty, because I still wanted to fuck him, but I was sure
he'd never allow any sexual contact.

He'd been teasing me about my desire for him in front of everybody since I
moved in.

In front of his mom and uncle and little sister.

Just making little jokes.

Nobody really took him seriously. He was just that way and they were used
to his big talk.

But I worried.

Seeing him wrestle with his same-aged cousin was hot.

Seeing him cuddle with his uncle drove me crazy.

He's purposely cuddle closer to him when I walked into the room as if to
say "Aren't you jealous of him? I know how much you wish this was you, all
cuddled up next to me."

And he was right. I did. My desire for him never diminished.

But my desire to be kind to him was stronger.

I hung onto my last vestiges of respect and self-control, even though he
was toying with them constantly.

I could feel his hardness when we wrestled.

He got boners too.

Big boners.

He didn't even try to keep his a secret.

I never touched them, but he pressed them up against me.

A lot.

Whenever we wrestled.

The daily bed wrestling matches continued.

I continued being ultra-careful with my hands.

He was wearing a sweater one day, and as can easily happen when wrestling a
hot and sweaty boy, I accidentally snagged the hem of his sweater.

I almost stopped, but I was crazy with lust for him by now.

I had to continue.

I wrestled the sweater off him despite his near hysterical giggly
protestations.

"No, no, stop!"

It was giggly, tickly fun fun for both of us.

Once his sweater was off he dared me to continue.

"Betcha can't take off my shirt!"

I wanted to, but then I went paranoid.

I really want to see his chest, I thought. And taking off his shirt would
be okay, but what do I do if he dares me to take his pants?

Would he tell on me? His mom's in the next room.

So, I said "no."

He got upset and stormed out of the room.

I was worried he would tattle on me for my animalistic desires, but he came
back five minutes later and we resumed bed-wrestling.

Another month went by and we continued the same routine.

My desire to fuck him never stopped, but I was sure any sexual contact
would be met with anger and disclosure.

We kept bed-wrestling.

I kept jacking off after he left me, fantasizing about getting him in a
hotel for a weekend, and somehow turning our wrestling into sex.

Mutually-satisfying sex.

Whatever that meant to him.

Time moved on, we kept bed wrestling. I felt him getting stronger as the
months passed.

I actually LIKED the idea that he might somehow get strong enough to pin me
for real.

Not only could I imagine me fucking him, I also, increasingly, could
imagine him fucking me.

He was strong. And demanding.

He liked control.

Would I fuck him?

Or would he fuck me?

Sometimes it was all I could think about.

His little hard dick in me.

Sliding in and out.

Him grunting and sweating on top of me.


And that was hot too.

That would be fine with me.

I guess my wrestling moves were predictable because one day, he was
standing.

I started to lunge forward to grab his hip, thinking he'd move the same way
he always did, but he moved the other way.

I couldn't stop my momentum forward, and my hand landed high between his
legs.

Right between his right butt cheek and his leg, brushing firmly against his
package, and his clearly-hard dicklet head too.

I froze with the back of my hand against his firm, prominent, surprisingly
large 10-year-old package.

I froze looking up into his eyes.

I almost cupped him with my hand, wanting to give his cock a gentle
squeeze.

I wanted to, but I I'd just broken his rule.

I'd touched his sex.

By mistake, but I still touched him there.

I withdrew my hand, expecting him to run off and tell on me.

He didn't. Instead he dropped down to his knees, wrapped me in a hug,
pushed me on my back, and pretended to mount me.

Oh fuck, I thought. My mind exploded.

He moved in closer to my face, looking me right in the eyes.

I thought he was going to kiss me for a moment.

I really thought he would.

But he just hovered there looking at me.

I could feel his heart pounding out of his chest.

I watched between our bodies as he brought his hard crotch to within 1/8 an
inch of mine.

I thought he was about to frottage me.

Dry hump me.

Grind on me and get himself off.

I wanted it, but it was all up to him.

Just before our crotches touched, he rolled to the side, pulling me with
him and turned it back into a wrestling match.

Another month went by.

We continued our daily bed wrestling, unchanged until one day...

His sister was with us this time, and like I said, I had no interest in
her.

She just sort of giggled blankly and watched us and tried to stay out of
our way.

After wrestling, I rolled on my back with my normal hard-on.

His sister was sitting down at the bottom of the bed.

He rolled onto his back too, but this time, he didn't pretend to ignore my
hard dick.

This time, he zeroed in on it and just let his gaze linger there.

He was staring intently, hungrily at my hard dick through my pants.

And this time, he was done faking it.

"Nice," he whispered.

And I reached down and touched it for him. Rubbed my hand across it through
my pants.

Turned a little so he could see it's outline better.

His eyes went WIDE and glassy.

His mouth opened, and his tongue hung out a bit.

His breathing became slower and deeper.

Then, as if on automatic, he started rolling up onto all fours.

He started moving towards me.

The maid was in the next room.

His sister was on the edge of the bed, watching with vague curiosity.

And I was frozen.

As much as I WANTED this to happen, had been beating off fantasizing about
this happening, I had decided it was never remotely possible.

And with the maid in the next room and his sister in here, it was
potentially suicide for me if it did happen.

He was coming closer. It was no mystery what he was going for. My cock.

He realized I was scared, but he seemed to be HOTTED up enough that he
NEEDED to get at it.

He stopped, and screamed at his sister in a first-time ever queeny voice:
"TAKE IT OUT!"

"Damn! What do I do!" I thought.

It's bad enough I want sex with him, but I have absolutely no interest in
bringing this girl into it. I need to get her out of here, fast.

Meanwhile, used to following his bossy orders, she just automatically
complied.

Her hand was slowly inching closer to my HARD dick, and I thought, I need
to stop this now!

I only had seconds to stop this from happening.

It was torture. I had about ONE second before her hand would make contact
with my bulge, which I couldn't allow, but FUCK!

The boy of my fantasies was sitting on his heels and hands, puppy-dog
style, eyes WIDE and glassy, tongue hanging out, breathing deep and slow.

SEXED up.

Exactly like I wanted him to be... waiting and WANTING to see my cock!

But I had to stop this, so I yelled "NO!" And the girl's hand stopped.

And my beautiful little hottie-ABF boyfriend once more stormed from the
room in tears.

I took the girl's hand, led her to the living room, turned on the TV and
said, "stay here."

The maid was in the kitchen, dishes clattering -- she'd be fine.

I went back to my room. Sat on the bed. Waited for him.

He came back five minutes later. Shut the door. Glared at me.

I said I was sorry.

He looked at me. Defiantly. Angry eyes.

"I just want to SEE IT!" he snapped

"So SEE IT!" I yelled back. "But not in front of your sister!"

Tired of denying myself any longer. I stood up. Went to the door.

Locked it.

"Fuck, this is ridiculous," I spat at him. I didn't even care if I got into
trouble anymore.

I came back to the bed.

Stood before him.

Unzipped.

Put my hands on my waistband.

Pulled down my shorts.

And I SHOWED IT to him.

"There!" I said. "There it IS! Is THIS what you've been trying to see for
seven months?"

His eyes were wide. HUGE. SEXED-UP.

My dick was still hard.

I wrapped my hand around it.

Stroked it a few times in front of him, slowly.

Made it even harder.

If he wanted to SEE IT, he could SEE IT ALL.

His breathing was heavy.

Gaspy.

Shaking.

He stared.

Intently.

Moved forward.

Put his hand out, tentitvely.

Stopped before he touched it.

Looked up at me, hands shaking.

Searching in my eyes.

Asking for permission with his pleading glance.

Ironic. This little boy who was always in control, asking me.

Asking if he could touch it.

I nodded.

He practically leapt at me.

Practically pounced, he was so hungry to get to it.

He knows I'm not gonna stop him now.

But now he's back in control again.

"MOVE!" he says, and he slaps my hand away. "LET ME SEE!"

He grasps it and I gasp.

His hand is so hot on it. So warm.

He runs it up and down the shaft.

I shiver.

He angles it this way and that.

I almost blow just watching him.

I've waited so long for this. So long.

His "little head" is still doing the thinking for him, but he's more
relaxed now, because his "big head" has figured it out: he's in control
again.

I'm going to do exactly what he wants, and nothing more.

And he knows it.

And he smiles, knowing that.

He sees some precum and takes a sniff.

Puts his finger in it.

Sniffs it.

Tastes it.

Moves his face in to the source.

Talks about what it feels like in his hands.

"S'BIG," he giggles. "Really BIG."

"Yeah," I gasp.

"And HARD. Really big and HARD."

He delights in that word and whispers it again to himself.

"Hard, hard, hard."

Each "hard" comes with a squeeze.

I watch this all with fascination, praying I won't shoot too soon.

He explores my dripping cock.

Jacks it.

Digs in his pants and rearranges his.

He is super hard. I can see it through the fabric.

He leans in close.

Sniffs my dick and then licks it.

Turns his mouth into a big "O." Wraps his lips around it.

Slides it inside.

Starts sucking.

God it feels good.

So good.

So wet.

So tight.

So incredible.

He sucks me greedily.

And with great skill.

He's done this before.

Maybe just for another boy, but he's certainly transferred this skill.

He knows how to do this on a man now, too.

So he does.

And my eyes roll back in my head as he does it.

I've wanted this for so long.

And it feels so good.

So good.

So good.

He pushes me back on the bed. Agressively. Straddles me.

He humps me and grinds against me. He is horny.

He is in charge.

He takes his pants and undies off.

Quickly.

Desperately.

His dick springs free and it is five-inches long and rock hard and perfect.

It is a magnificent, thin, long dick.

I have dreamed about seeing this dick for so long, and now here it is.

Skinny and perfect.

Long.

Angry red mushroom head.

Twitching.

NEEDING.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

"Oh, God," I whisper. "Your dick is so pretty. Your dick is so---"

"NO TALKING!" he snaps, and I instatly fall silent.

Whatever you need, I think, so grateful just to be here. Whatever you need.

He straddles me again.

Humps at my crotch.

He is shaky. Gaspy. He starts grasping at me.

Reaching behind.

Tugging at my hardness.

Trying to put it in.

Trying to make it fit.

Grinding his ass against it.

Pushing. Grunting. Frustrated.

Wanting it.

I tell him it will feel better if we make it slippery.

He rubs it in his crack, confused and glassy-eyed.

Slippery? How?

He's confused, but still pushing against it.

He presses back as it passes over his hole.

"Now, now, now, please, please, please," he whines.

He centers it on his hole. Keeps rocking against it.

He wants it inside.

"It won't go in!" he yells. "It never GOES IN RIGHT!"

"It has to be SLIPPERY first," I whisper simply.

Did these kids not know about LUBE?

What were they doing?

I reach for the tube in my drawer.

I add some lube to were my cock meets his hole.

He sighs, just feeling the moisture of it.

Sighs and relaxes.

I feel his shoulders drop.

His eyes are closed.

Smiling now.

He gets it.

Slippery.

He rocks back against me quietly.

Eyes closed. Panting.

It starts slipping in a bit farther, millimeters farther as he continues
rocking.

I warn him about what might happen if he keeps it up.

"It's going to pop in," I tell him. "Are you sure you ---"

"QUIET!" he snaps at me. "I KNOW!"

I'm quiet.

"JUST LET ME DO IT!" he yells.

I'm beyond caring about the maid hearing.

He keeps doing it.

Slides and sighs and grinds back against it.

I pop in.

He gasps!

A wince!

His eyes pinch tighter!

Then a satisfied grin.

He's shaking.

Surprised and happy.

He looks at me.

Proud!

"It's in," he whispers, beaming, as if I wouldn't notice. "It's in, it's
in, it's in!"

And God, is he tight.

Incredibly tight.

Tight as in heaven.

He sighs.

Actually sighs, "Ahhhhhhhhh."

He does it again.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh."

This is filling him.

This feels good.

This is a relief to him.

And slowly, imperceptively at first, he begins to move up and down on it.

First just a centimeter at a time.

Then more.

Then more.

Until now he is rocking on it.

Sliding on it.

Letting it fill him, then pulling it back.

Riding it.

Needing it and wanting it.

He's lost in his own fog of hotness.

He starts to jerk off.

He spits in his hand and flogs his own bone. Wildly. Quickly.

To fast. His hand slips. He looks frustrated.

I hold him close and tell him to calm down.

He does.

I tell him to go slow.

Take his time.

Push out like he has to poop.

Relax his muscles.

He does and I gently slip out to add more lube.

To make him more comfortable.

He pouts.

"More," he says.

He cuddles to me. Nuzzles my neck. Just for a second.

Then he comes back down.

"Too empty," he says. "Put it back in."

He lines it up with his hole, and I slip right in.

I tell him it feels good.

It can always feel good.

We just have to keep it slippery like this.

When your friend does it, just keep it slippery like this, I tell him.

He thinks it over and nods his head.

More slippery. More good.

Problem solved.

He tells me to warn him before I shoot.

He wants to see it...

"You don't want it me to shoot inside you?" I ask him (almost sadly).

"I WANT TO SEE IT!" he snaps.

Okay.

It's his show.

I can put it anywhere.

Wherever he wants it.

I rock myself in and out of him.

Close my eyes.

Rejoice in the feeling of filling him.

The rhythm of our first fuck is a heartbeat.

A sweet, shared slow-dance.

A redemption.

A prayer.

I get close.

Start pushing deeper.

He moans when I do.

I tell him I'm going to cum.

I tell him it's going to be soon.

God, I want to cum in his ass, but I promised him.

I promised.

I slide it out of him, almost moaning myself at the loss.

But his hand is on it quickly.

Helping me.

Needing this.

He jacks it firmly.

I look in his deep, opeen eyes.

Four strokes and it explodes.

"Oh wow, he grins. "Wow, wow, wow, WOW!"

It flies everywhere.

I shoot all over myself.

All over him.

All over us.

He scoops it up in his hands and he rubs it on me.

He puts some in his mouth and in mine.

He grins.

Wicked sexy grin.

My body is on fire. I'm gasping and shaking.

I can't stop shaking. I needed that so much.

But he is not done.

"ROLL OVER," he growls.

I look at him in surprise.

"Roll over?" I repeat dumbly, not quite sure

"Now, now, NOW!" he says, trying to flip me over himself, grunting with the
effort.

Desperate.

I comply. I roll over.

He is on me in an instant. All heat. All hard boy.

No gentleness now.

He knows how to lube me.

He scoops the lube out of his own ass.

Takes my cum off his own body and rubs it on his little spike.

Grabs the bottle. Opens it. Squirts more on his cocklet, angry and red.

He lines it up with my ass and he pushes forward instantly and urgently.

I feel a bolt of pain. A white light as his slender cock stabs into me.

It is suprisingly long.

I didn't think it would hurt me that much.

But it is a good hurt.

An incredible hurt.

It is very hard.

It is suprisingly filling.

And he pushes it.

He rocks it, he jams it, inside and deep.

There is no art to this.

No finesse or tenderness.

He just wants to fuck me fast.

He is frantic.

Powerful.

He is almost overwhelming.

And I feel his slender boner, probing me, taking me, fucking me.

The rhythm is amazing. He is lighting my ass on fire.

I can hear him breathing.

I can feel his breath on my neck, ragged and hot.

"Yes, yes, yes," he is whispering.

He just wants to cum in me.

Needs to.

Getting there.

Closer...

And he DOES.

Oh, God, he DOES.

"UGGGGGGHHHHH!!" he screams with his last powerful thrust.

He is in me and shaking as deep as he can go.

Cramming his hips forward and locking them.

Panting wildly.

Spasming inside me, bucking and shaking.

His skinny dick hard and twitching in my ass.

I feel overpowered.

Completely fulfilled.

Simply used-up and taken. Consumed. NEEDED so badly by this little boy.

And it feels WONDERFUL.

It feels like I was meant to be here for him, taking this.

Even more than me fucking him, he needed THIS.

He needed THIS, fucking ME.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispers, gasping for breath and still
twitching inside of me.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

I wait for his breathing to slow. Just lay there while he breathes.

Just let him have this moment, whatever it means inside his head.

Filled with the intensity of him.

In love with this.

This feeling.

This him.

Fuck yeah, I love him.

I love him with all my heart.

He jerks his cock into me two more times. Stabs it into me for good
measure.

That'll teach you, he seems to be saying to me.

And that's fine.

If this is what he needs me to teach me, this is what I'll learn.

He feels good in there.

His dick is still hard. It hasn't gone down.

I want to stay like this forever, but he takes it out anyway.

He is 10. He is done. That's how it works.

And he smiles at me.

"THAT was good," he says. "MUCH better."

He decides he likes fucking now.

Now that he knows how to do it right.

Now that he knows he can fuck me too.

Now that he knows I will do this for him.

With him.

He asks me for repeats, ALL the time.

And it's not just the wrestling anymore.

Now it's everything. He gives me everything.

And like he did from the very beginning, always, ALWAYS leaves me wanting
more.

# # # # THE END # # # #

***** Thank you, Marky. I loved this story. You're an emotionally-charged
storyteller with a breathlessly direct style, and it's a real heart-pounder
to have you in the Male Bag. "Tales From the Male Bag" are true stories
from people who email me. The stories are used with their full
permission. If you'd like to write to Marky about his story above, please
use the address below, and I'll forward him your email. Keep the comments
cumming!

Peace,
Zachyboy
z.blake@mail.com