Date: Mon, 22 Feb 2016 00:26:44 +0000 (GMT)
From: z.blake@tutanota.com
Subject: Tales from the Male Bag: The Making of Mason

TALES FROM THE MALE BAG:
THE MAKING OF MASON
By DJ, as told to Zachyboy
M/b, t/b, oral, anal, feet

Dear Readers,
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My friend DJ, who has written to me a few times over the past Nifty year,
often talks of a boy he was fully enamored with when he was a decade or two
younger. Mason was the boy's name, and he's all grown-up and a man already,
but DJ had known the sweet minx forever. He was the son of a friend of his.

It was a strict hands-off policy in real life, mind you. We don't promote
the messing-up of kids. This is the part where we stop politely and do the
usual disclaimer stuff about this story being a work of fiction, and how
blah-blah-blah no animals were harmed in the making of this motion picture
and what-not. It's good to be up-front about such things. This is only
jack-off-and-pretend, what we do here.

But I asked DJ one day, for the sake of pervy fun, "Hey dude (because I
call him dude, because he's way younger than me, and I want to sound cool),
if wishes came true, and there were no consequences for you or harm done to
Mason...at what age what age do you think you could have actually gone
balls-deep in him? You know. Care to take a six-point-five-inch stab at
him, for lack of a better euphemism?

His answer was too hot NOT to include in "Tales from the Male Bag" for
posterity, so here it is.

DJ wrote back:

I've been thinking about this quite a bit since you asked me last
week. Fantastic question, Teeerific, as my dad would say. Let's take a
closer look, shall we?

As you know by now, I'd been lusting after said Monkee Boy minx since he
was 7 years old. This was the Contact era.

I'd go over to his dad's house, and there he'd be, grabbing my legs like
the little Monkee Boy he always was. On one occasion, after playing leg
grab with me, he switched to his dad, who was sitting next to me on the
sofa. We were "watching" a game. More like, Mason Daddy was watching the
game, and I was watching his stunningly gorgeous son.

So the mini-Adonis finally goes stationary, hugging his dad's legs. His own
legs and bare feet were splayed outward toward me. Totally unprovoked and
without a care in the world, he began rubbing his toes along the side of my
own bare left foot (it was late summer and I'd left my flip flops in the
entry hall doorway).

I was already at full mast from the leg touches, and thanks to the
boyfoot-to-manfoot proceedings, my cock began to spasm & twitch. I felt at
one point like I could have quite easily spontaneously erupted,
hands-free. Things were that close.

As it was, with the attention span of a Seven, he moved onto other
conquests. My cock was leaking like a fucking mountain stream. Eventually I
developed a silver-dollar-sized spot of pre which had soaked through both
my boxer briefs and my cargo shorts. Fortunately my shirt was untucked, and
I stretched the fabric to my crotch. That is the last time I wore a pair of
light-colored shorts or pants to their house. Hard lessons learned.

I recall having half a mind to excuse myself to the guest bathroom, jack
off feverishly, and empty a creamy load into their toilet. However, their
guest bathroom is in a rather indiscrete spot. It's literally a few feet
from the kitchen in direct line of sight from the living room sofa. I
wasn't worried about taking a few minutes extra (people do have to take
care of "other" business from time to time), but I was literally terrified
to accidentally moan out "FUCK YEAH!" or "MONKEE BOY!" during my climax.

So I gave the minx his proper due, went home that evening (the Beef was
working THANK GOD), walked through the front door, shed every last stich of
clothing, laid down on the sofa, jerked off like a man possessed, and shot
a FUCKING MASSIVE load of DJ batter all over my stomach & chest. I wouldn't
be surprised if some reached my face. It was THAT erotic of an evening.

Then, on another visit a month or so later (wisely wearing dark-colored
shorts this time), the stunning minx was barefoot per usual, played
grab-leg again, and eventually settled on laying on his stomach on the
floor watching the game with us. Yes, THE POSITION. Tummy down. Butt
up. Legs bent at the knee. Bare feet straight up in the air.

Then the impossibly adorable angel proceeds to tap both sets of toes on my
left thigh - repeatedly. Now keep in mind I have a wonderful sightline of
perhaps my favorite view of boyfeet, the soles and toe bottoms, as he's
TAPPING those glorious entities AGAINST MY SKIN. My head nearly exploded
Scanners-style.

Rinse & repeat the paragraph above. This time I couldn't even wait 'til I
got home. I rubbed my insanely erect cock through my shorts & undies and
blew a load while driving. I think I might have taken my eyes off the road
for a moment when I tilted my head back slightly and closed my eyes for a
second in a nod to the sheer and unmatched beauty of the Boy Mason.

But I digress. You asked me what age I'd do what to him.

Without going full Boybottuzup and fucking Mason in the back of an empty
school bus like he did with Sean in "Civil Air Patrol" (Nifty Adult-Youth,
November 2001) (and man, what a great read that chapter four was) in an
alternate universe, I would have hoped to...

1. Begin Playtime at Seven. Get him comfortable being naked. Get him
comfortable seeing me naked. Expand the touching. Expand the CONTACT. As a
Seven, the hot little fucker was already supremely feet-focused. Expand on
that. Slowly introduce him to boyfeet worship. Lick his soles, suck his
toes, make it a fun/funny/ticklish game. Eventually touch my pre-cummy cock
to his soles, spreading my DNA on his dreamily soft skin.

2. At Eight, teach him how to kiss. Really kiss. Not like he does with
mommy & daddy. Progress to sucking his cocklet. Prove that the appendage is
for far more than peeing. Show him how to suck mine, even if it's only the
cut helmet. Get him comfortable with the concept of eating cum. Begin with
a taste. Eventually move on to having him lap it up like a puppy. Play
Puppy Love Club games (a nod to Boyz). In no time, he'll be swallowing jizz
directly from the source like the nourishing milk it is.

3. At Nine (a delightful age for such things), progress Playtime to his
butt. Prove to him that it's far more than just a "dirty" exit point. Show
him how to deep clean that area in the shower. Introduce him to the
thousands of nerve endings associated with his taint, crack, and
hole. Eventually kiss and lick him here, ratcheting up his prepubescent
eroticism a hundred-fold. Before he turns 10, I'd be feasting on his ass
with my mouth & tongue like a ravenous animal.

4. At Ten, celebrate double digits and the first of his tween years by
finally taking his virginity.

"Shouldn't we wait another year?" he might say at first.

"No," I'd answer, "But I CAN untie your shoes and take them off. Followed
by your socks. Then your shirt. Then your shorts. And finally your
tighty-whities. Ah, that's better. That wasn't so hard was it? Now for the
rite of passage part. I'll try to minimize the grueling and unforgiving
part as best I can."

Just the tip at first, carefully working in part of the shaft during future
sessions.

"Ow," he might say as the mushroom first pops past his number one
sphincter, the glorious outer ring.

"Shhh, bite down on your pillow baby, it'll all be over soon."

Sorry, Mason. This is great for me, but of course, it comes with twinges of
necessary discomfort for you, little buddy.

But I'll whisper sweet nothings.

"My sweet, sweet Monkee Angel. You feel so good in there."

Oh yeah, I'm telling him whatever he needs to hear 'til my climax and
ejaculation inside his Hot Pocket. Ejaculate that first time with my penis
head inside him, indicating that is where pedo seed goes and belongs.

Dayum, it's even hotter when I write it down. And I'm confident I got that
part right. I've been in love with him for years, and now with my kamikaze
sperm swimming inside him for a few brief moments, I've marked him as
profoundly Loved. That can never be taken away. It's like a permanent
tattoo inside him, marking him as my own. Whatever he does, wherever he
goes, whoever he ends up choosing - he's Mine Forever now. Whoof, what a
glorious theme.

5. At Eleven, he's slowly becoming TAFFY. (That's my abbreviation for able
to "Take A Fuck." T.A.F. "TAFFY."). By now, he's used to penetration. It's
a regular part of Playtime. He now has a wealth of experience taking half
my shaft. I'm using these occasions to work my way toward 4 inches of my
man cock inside his hot, impossibly tight rectum.

For him, it's really beginning to feel good and much more comfortable. He's
constantly inquiring about it or outright asking to be fucked. He's
well-versed in all the perverted terminology. His growing cocklet is always
stiff as a nail during penetration.

6. On his 12th birthday...fucking YUM, and I ain't talkin' about the damn
cake. He's getting the first 5 inches of my manhood inside him. It's easily
explained, as these are the size of his average shits anyway. No biggie. I
inform him that even though I'm slightly above average in the size
department, many men have cocks larger than mine. Up to 8 or 9 inches. I
don't want to scare him, but I tell him that he's inevitably going to have
a lover with a huge cock who'll sooner-or-later want a true taste of his
insides. I'm helping to prep him for his long life as a bottom boy fuck
toy.

Time is of the essence now. I want to utilize the next few weeks after his
birthday to work on getting six full inches, all but my last half-inch
inside him. It's a monumental challenge, but the more dry shivers I give
him, the easier the task toward the goal.

Eventually by early summer (he's a spring baby), it's warm out, and he's
barefoot all the fucking time. We go to Target weekly to reward him for
good service via the toys and sporting goods aisles (I got him the Lego
Millennium Falcon for his 12th birthday, and now he can have pretty much
whatever the fuck he wants, one purchase at a time).

I always make sure he's wearing flip flops, as his pretty feet are far too
perfect not to show off to other potential BLs in and around town. I even
allow and encourage him to kick them off at the store and walk around an
aisle barefoot, as long as he slips them back on before heading to the next
aisle. I get an occasional scowl from a soccer mom or two, but a return
glare with my devil eyes diverts their attention back to their own damn
business where it belongs.

The first Monday after school is out in mid-June, I take him to Water World
as a kickoff to summer treat. I want to oogle him and show him off to the
world in all his shirtless/barefoot glory. Afterward we get pizza, and
later that night I gift him that final half-inch of DJ Jr.

I mean, he's been driving me absolutely delirious with lust all damn
day. Wet hair, water droplets on his bare, porcelain skin, blue eyes
shimmering next to the water. This is obviously something DJ Jr. has craved
since the early Contact era. He's waited almost five fucking years to be
wholly embedded into this glorious specimen of boyhood. The moment has
finally arrived.

In the missionary position (Mason's favorite as well - so I can suck his
toes, which he now loves), I most carefully bottom out balls deep and emit
the most contented exhale of my entire life. He knows something is
different, as I'm quite sure he can feel the pubes of my testicles tickling
his taint.

"Are you all the way in?"

"I am, Baby Boy. I am finally balls-deep inside you." He smiles the widest
smile, showing off nearly all his dazzling white Chiclets. So fucking proud
of himself for the monumental accomplishment. We've spent years together to
reach this zenith. So much trust. So much joy. So many good feelings for
both of us.

"I am so proud of you, Mase. I love you very much."

"I love you too." I lean down to kiss him deeply and passionately, my
tongue slathering all over his, rather sloppily, rather hungrily.

"Are you ready to get fucked?"

"Yeah, but go slow. I really want to feel it in me."

After 15 minutes, I warn him, "I'm going to cum inside you, Baby. I'm about
to fill you with my Love."

"Yeah," he grunts. "Fill it in me. Squirt it in me."

I proceed to drive deep with my final pregnancy thrusts, dumping an
inordinately massive amount of semen all over his budding prostate and
rectum, into the very depths of his boycunt.

My head is thrown back in ecstasy, and my eyes are closed as I shriek out a
long series of gibberish profanity. Mase is moaning like a baby-banshee in
heat below me. The tween is squealing his own delightfully gibberish
profanity as only a Loved Boy can.

Then I open my eyes just in the nick of time. With an incredibly loud wail,
"OHHHH FUUCCCKKKK!!!" and an O-face to put all others to shame, the slit of
his circumcised, purplish, insanely erect cocklet jettisons a
not-insignificant rocket of clear boy jizz onto his tummy, quickly draining
into his innie belly button. He's in total shock and awe.

"Did I just..."

"Yes you did, Baby. You just had your very first wet orgasm. No more dry
shivers. I couldn't be more proud of you than this moment. You took me
balls-deep and shot your first load of pre-teen semen."

"You think there's any sperm swimming around in it?"

"Maybe, but probably not much. But don't worry, you'll be shooting thick,
creamy, sperm-filled loads in no time. Until then..."

I seize the opportunity to lean down to his belly button, placing my lips
against his skin, and sucke out the delicious remnants of his very first
load into my mouth. The taste is euphorically indescribable. Ever so sweet,
ever so salty. All Boy. The very essence of my Mason. Then I lean down and
mama-bird it into his waiting mouth, like a chewed-up worm. He greedily
accepts it, and we tongue-wrestle for several more minutes.

"How's it taste, Sport?"

"Different than yours. But good. I can't wait to taste more."

"Well then, I'll have to show you how to lift your legs back, touch your
toes to the headboard, and jerk your cum into your own mouth for the times
I can't be around."

"Show me now," he grunts, assuming the position. He's already hard and
ready to do it. "Show me what I need to know."

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So I said to DJ, "That's the drill then, huh? You would have tipped him at
Ten? Then came back and deep-cocked the ever-loving bejeebers out of him
all throughout his teen years?"

"Yep," said DJ. "Tipping at Ten. Full at Twelve. Then the latter at
Thirteen Plus."

I'd spend the rest of his Twelfth year loving him to the hilt, but doing so
in a slow, methodical manner so as not to hurt him in any "meaningful" way
(there's always a tad bit of pain, as we discussed earlier, but very
necessary).

The teen years, however, usher in a new methodology. Those long, lanky,
lithe gams in the air - when he's finally tall enough after his growth
spurt for his ankles to rest comfortably on my shoulders.

And Holy Fuck, his feet have undergone the same spurt, at an even faster
rate. They're awkwardly huge now, outpacing the rest of his growing body. I
can't get all five of his toes in my mouth at once anymore. And that's
quite alright. His Bigs are now mini-phalluses. Yes, get those planks on my
shoulders right next to my head. Easy access for licking, sucking, and
general worship. Peace out. Piece In. A big piece. More like a slab.

By the time he reaches high school, the faint flicker of interest in girls
& pussies has been extinguished for good. For Good. Freshman year, I'm
banging him so hard - the damn slapping noises are so intense - I'm afraid
the neighbors might hear. I have to turn the stereo to drown out his
deepening moans.

And remember the trip to Water World on the day he took it balls-deep at 12
years old I buy him a season pass the summer after freshman year for only
$120. Now he's picking up the hot lifeguards to fuck him in the locker
room. Eventually I feel cum that's not my own inside his butt when I'm
banging him. And that's okay. I've always encouraged him to explore other
men, other boys, other teens.

But I want a personal taste of some of those blond Adonises, so I encourage
him to bring them home. After all, I'm the cool guy with the full beer
fridge and plenty of reefer. Pretty soon I'm tapping his tricks in the ass
as they're fucking him, spreading my seed all over town.

Eventually by sophomore year, he's got a hankering for some ass
himself. I've let him fuck me from time to time, but he knows how good it
felt to get fucked as a pre-pubescent. And my hole isn't quite as tight as
it used to be. He wants something younger, fresher - with a bit firmer grip
on his teen cock, which is now hard & dripping with adolescent pre more
hours of the day than it's flaccid.

When I'm not fucking him, or he's fucking me, he's masturbating half a
dozen times a day. I notice sticky tissues in the bathroom wastebasket when
he comes over to get away from the prying eyes of his parents to watch gay
twink porn.

He's getting uncontrollable urges to spread his own seed, so I teach him
some new things. He's used to flirting with boys his own age, but he's
wants to learn how to talk to the younger minxes now. So I teach him the
fine art of younger appeal. Overcoming short attention spans. Making
himself the sole focus. Making himself desirable to a kid who may know
nothing about sex yet.

By the summer after his sophomore year, I've bought him another pass at
Water World. It's so worth it. I also make sure he has plenty of spending
money to buy his youthful objectives an ice cream or a snow cone. By
mid-summer, there's not a day goes by when I show up at the pick-up area
when he doesn't have a newbie with him.

And God does he have good taste. They're all Grade A premium minxes, and
yours truly always gets a taste. I've encouraged him to distribute
babysitting flyers throughout the neighborhood, so on the days he's not at
the water park, he's fucking some lucky kid in the latter's own twin bed -
and getting paid to do so, the teen whore! I'm so proud of him.

I invite him to bring his clients' kids around as much as he wants, when we
can take turns fucking the freshly adulterated minxes in a proper king
bed. The M/t/b threesomes are mind-numbing. He's become a regular Justin
from Boybottumzup's "Wanna Bet" (Nifty Adult-Youth, February 2003). Chapter
9, particularly.

Oh, and he fucking loves Nifty now. He's a living, breathing, sexualized
animal, and I only have myself to blame (thank?). By next summer, he'll
have his driver's license, so it'll be even easier for him to bring fresh
snacks home to daddy. Whoof, the Circle of Pedo Life. Mason the teen BL.

Girls? Ha!!! I'll eventually have to talk him into selling some of that
copious jizz of his to the sperm bank, because Lord knows this Earth needs
plenty of young Masons running around (barefoot of course). He can add the
payments to his babysitting money and maybe buy himself a shaggin'
wagon. Something cool and badass but practical, like a used Mustang, the
perfect car for luring the boys.

WHOOF. Talk about a digression. Jeezus, all that talk of water parks got me
off on a tangent.

Anyway, to make a long story short and answer your question...(my boxer
briefs are literally soaked with pre right now)...

You asked me, "At what theoretical age do you think you could have gone
balls-deep in Mason?"

Twelve and change, my friend. Twelve and change.

The summer after his Twelfth birthday.

The Summer of Love.

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