THE ITALIAN'S PONY
BY  JIMBO

     Looking through the family photo album now, it becomes quite clear to me
where it all started.  I see that picture of me at age six straddling a saddle
on a pony, wearing chaps, a neckerchief, and a ten gallon hat and nothing
else...and grinning lustfully at the photographer.  I remember that day so
clearly and it is my earliest childhood memory.
     It was a hot, humid August day when I saw the Italian man leading a pony
into our neighborhood.  He would ask permission and then photograph the
neighborhood kids dressed in cowboy outfits for a small fee from the parents.
I was fascinated, not so much by the pony as by the photographer.  Although my
mother called him a "boy" when she told my father about him, he was a man as
far as I was concerned.  And a real man at that.  I could see through his
partially opened shirt that his chest was very hairy and none of the men in my
family were hairy.
     I ran home and persuaded my mother to have my picture taken.  I ran back
and followed him down the street constantly reminding him which house I lived
in. When he had taken pictures of my brothers and me, my mother, kindly soul
that she always was, invited him to join our family for lunch on the picnic
table in the yard.  As he ate, I admired the flashing white teeth and broad
shoulders, but I was completely captivated by the hair protruding from his
open collared sport shirt.  
     After lunch, he proceeded to work his way down the street photographing
all the kids in the neighborhood in the same outfit I had worn.  I followed
constantly asking questions and volunteering to "help" by holding equipment.
Late in the afternoon we had walked several blocks from my home and had
reached an abandoned store building.  He led his pony into the shade on the
side of the building and leaned against the side of the building to smoke a
cigarette and rest from the almost unbearable heat of the day.  I watched in
open mouthed admiration.
    "Do you like what you see?" he asked.
    "Oh, yes.  You are a real man.  I can see that."
    "What gives you that idea?"
    "I never saw such a hairy chest!"
    "Wanta see some more?"
    "Oh, yes! Please!"
    He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the tails out of his trousers revealing
this marvelously sculpted, hairy chest.  "Wanta touch my hair?"
    Of course I did.  My little face was at a level with his belt buckle as I
reached out and gingerly touched his hairy stomach.
    "Go on.  Feel it.  Feel all you want."
     I needed no more encouragement.  I reached up and ran my fingers over his
beautiful pectorals and stuck my finger in his belly button.  I was thrilled
to death.  Then I saw the bulge in his pants.  I knew what lurked there and as
I stroked his chest with my left hand I delicately brought my right to touch
what was obviously the outline of the head of his cock.
    "You like that kid?  I'd show you some more if we weren't out here on
display."
     "We could go into this old store," I offered.  "No one has lived here for
a long time and the back door is open."
     So we went into the back of the store.  There were no houses at this end
of the street near the railroad tracks.  I remember hearing an approaching
freight train as we entered.
     "Do you want to open my belt?  Go ahead.  Unbutton the buttons.  It's
okay."
     I did as he said and his fly opened up.  I was spellbound by what I saw.
His cock was the biggest I had ever seen and completely surrounded by hair and
he was wearing no underwear.  "You don't have no underwear!!"
     "I never wear the stuff.  Slows me up.  You like what you see?"
     "Oh, yes.  You really are a real man.  Wow!  I never saw one that big!"
     "If you want to see it get even bigger,  just play with it," he said.
     As I did what he wanted, it grew and grew.  Soon it was fully hard and
his pants had dropped to the floor.  I ran one hand over his beautiful cock
and balls and used the other to stroke his powerful hairy legs and stomach and
chest.
     "Hey, kid.  That feels great.  Grab that big one and rub it like this.
Wait til you see what happens."
     Again I did what he said.  It was the most exciting thing that ever
happened to me.  I became more and more brave jacking his big dick with one
hand and running my other hand all over his hairy body.  I reached the firm
ass and he guided my hand to his asshole which I penetrated with my whole,
tiny hand.  He got more and more excited and then he erupted.  Spurt after
spurt of creamy white stuff shot out of the head of his dick.  I was terrified
that I had done something wrong.
     "Hey, that was great, kid.  I'll see you around."
     He pulled himself together and left quickly.  But I knew then that I
would spend the rest of my life looking for more like him.  No one would ever
be able to convince me that homosexuals were not born that way.  No one taught
me what to want.  I always knew.