Date: Wed, 2 May 2012 11:56:36 -0600
From: Rob Loveboy <loveboyrob2@gmail.com>
Subject: When-Opportunity-Comes-Knocking-1 (Adult/Youth)

*Author's Note:*  I love to write gay erotica, an amateur hobby at best,
nothing more, nothing less. My interest turned from fictional to
nonfictional stories, preferring to write of real life experiences of real
life people. I am blessed to have many gay friends and acquaintances who
have allowed me the audacity to relentlessly pry into their innermost
memories of first time or unusual sexual experiences. It's the unusual that
I find perversely intriguing, delving into the most detailed personal,
emotional and physical detail, leaving no stone unturned. I want to know
their intimate thoughts at the time of their adventure... or their
misadventure; their fears and desires, regrets and solaces. From young and
old; straight, bi or gay, I have found most interesting subjects that also
found themselves at my merciless quest for total truth and assured
anonymity to reiterate a story worth telling.

Having said that, to write nonfictional accounts, one must also endeavour
to make it readable. Construct a beginning, a middle and an end, filling in
voids where needed  based on factual events. Careful not to embellish
truths, but simply expound on them as we can logically interpret them when
a person`s memory is vague of certain exact facts (or withheld).

Once again, it is merely a hobby that I enjoy writing for the diverse
readership of Nifty Stories and kudos, of course. to Nifty`s liberal
support and freedom of speech to do so. Where would we be without Nifty!
Don`t shoot the messenger if you find some stories offensive, simply move
on to whatever turns your crank in the limitless genre of your choice!
Feedback is always appreciated, it`s what keeps me, and others motivated,
without a doubt!


       Other Stories on Nifty

-Incapacitated Jordies Handjob, Young Friends,
-Summer With Michael, Adult/Youth
-It Just Happened, Adult/Youth
-Jack and Jill Went Downhill, High School
-Thinking With The Wrong Head, Adult/Youth



++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


*"...** the caveman dragged his woman by the hair through the mud and
gravel with one hand, the other lovingly held the small, soft hand of
his  pubescent boy lover..."*
* *
*


 Ancient Boy Love,*




*John Doe's Story*

My first time with a guy? Well, before I tell you, please understand that
centuries ago homo-pedophilia was a common practice in many cultures. I
believe that this once considered, 'natural' behavior was, and
still exists in the male sexual psycho-dynamics of the brain, although
deeply suppressed in modern-day man, no thanks to the hypocritical Catholic
Church! However, the primal instinct does surface from its depths in many
men, look no farther than the scandals over the past two or three decades!
Priests, politicians, movie and music stars, and of course your average Joe
who is behind bars for sampling the "Forbidden Fruit." Many others only
lust over the beauty of male youth, fantasize about it while fucking their
wives, jerk off  to the eye-candy seen at the beach, or locker rooms. Why
is it that there are hundreds-of-thousands of pornographic images and video
of boys? You would have to surmise there to be a huge market for it
in today's world, would you not? So, lets say a once in a lifetime
 opportunity presents itself to delve into and actually live those
fantasies, how many men could restrain themselves? I for one, could not
control that overpowering, primal instinct and paid the ultimate price, the
loss of my family and close friends!

About fifteen years ago; I was thirty at the time and living in a suburb of
Toronto. It was around midnight, my wife and daughter were sleeping and I
was in my den downstairs working on a sales presentation I had to deliver
the following morning. The room was dark except for my desk lamp and
thought I noticed movement in the darkness outside the window that looked
over my backyard. One of those situations where you're not sure and brush
it off as an over tired, just seeing things kind of imagination after
peering out and finding nothing.

Minutes later the faint sound of breaking glass made me realize that I
hadn't imagined things. Carpentry was a hobby and my garage served as my
workshop which had been broken into a few months earlier and wood working
hand tools stolen. There was no doubt in my mind that another burglary was
in progress, probably the same thief. There was no time to call the cops
and await their arrival, I wanted that fucker caught red handed and
detained to be handed over to them on a silver platter!

I was not overly muscular but the life long passion of power swimming, and
my three times a week regime at the local Aquatic Centre kept me fit and
trim other than a slight beer belly that I found impossible to shed due to
my love of the suds. Armed with a baseball bat and a six-cell flashlight, I
quietly made my way to the garage door which was ajar and the same small
window pane shattered.

At the front of the garage where my tools were hung, the soft glow of what
appeared and sounded like a Bic lighter being flicked pin pointed the two
thieves exact position. Barefoot, I was afraid of stepping on nails or
shards of wood amongst the saw dust as I inched forward, sleek as a cat.
Just far enough from the only exit in order to block a hasty departure, I
illuminated the powerful light.

"Hold it right there, assholes!" I screamed.

Frozen in place like two deer in the headlights of a car, stood two
young boys of about twelve and thirteen. I recognized both from the
neighborhood but didn't know their names or where they lived. Once they
gained their senses they attempted to run. Each stopped dead in their
tracks when I took a threatening stance and they noticed the menacing bat.

I knew there was no chance that I could secure both kids and make my way to
the telephone ahead, one culprit would be sufficient. I grabbed the
shoulder length hair of the eldest, allowing the other to escape when he
realized the opportunity.

His face contorted in pain as I dragged him to the front of the garage,
turned on the florescent lights and picked up the phone to call the police.

"Please, Sir, dddon't call the cops." he plead and sobbed, tears streamed
from the corners of his hazel eyes. "Please, --they'll send me to juvenile
this time cuz I'm thirteen now!"

I snickered, "Like... tell me, why the fuck should I give a shit?" he
yelped as I forced his head down and back up,  "You broke into my garage
and were going to steal my stuff... like ya did a few months ago!"

"Ouch, ooowie... please? Just beat me up!" he continued to plea, "But don't
call the cops... okay?"

"So, you've been in trouble before..." that much was obvious, he was now a
teenager and would face stiffer punishment in juvenile detention. "and you
still haven't learned anything from it! --Sorry, but you're going to jail,
kiddo!" I laughed at him and reached for the telephone's touch pad.

"Please, please, please? I... I... I'll do anything you want, ya know? Like
yard work, maybe or..." he rambled on other odd jobs as his penance, but I
wasn't really listening.

I had a secret that was suppressed all my adult life. I liked
pubescent boys. The forbidden fruit that I lusted after at the pool, clad
in next to nothing, the material of wet bathing suits clinging like saran
wrap and exposing their goods. The occasional, immodest naked boy in the
showers or change room, just at that magical stage of development
that fuelled my fantasies of taking one to bed and doing everything
imaginable to him. They were far and few between, this generation of kids
were all so hung up on being seen naked for some reason. Mostly all I saw
was a bare ass, that is of course if they didn't use the 'towel wrapped
waist technique' to change into or out of bathing suits!

I dreamt of sex vacations, those places where boys of any age can be bought
and used for a man's carnal pleasure. Countries where the laws were either
lax or nonexistent and a means of survival for many kids. I wasn't
prejudice, but only Caucasian or Latino boys appealed to me and I had no
idea where to even begin finding promoters of such lurid vacation spots.
Those Mayan lads that I secretly drooled over while vacationing with my
wife in Mexico held possibilities, but again, finding someone to broker the
deal was as foreign to me as the country.

Suddenly, that very night as I held the very vulnerable cute boy by
his auburn hair, the opportunity was much too irresistible. The striing in
my track suit pants at the mere thought of the situation superseded any
other thoughts about calling cops... but the fearful prospect that cops
could eventually come to pick me up also weighed on my mind.

 "What's your name?" I commanded, tugging his hair.

"Sean,... ouch!" he grimaced.

"Sean 'ouch'... now that's a funny name. How do ya spell it?" I teased.

Sean didn't see the humor and replied, "Sean Miller."

"Well, Sean Miller, you haven't convinced me not to turn you in yet. Your
promise of coming back and doing chores for me doesn't cut it."

"I'll do anything, you name it, I swear!"

By that time my cock was as hard as any 2X4 in my shop, I could feel the
gel oozing from it and see the darker pigment absorbing into my grey
flannel pants. I was literally trembling in desire for him debating as to
exactly what it was I was going to do and how I was going to proceed. I had
waited a lifetime for that moment, jerking off or fucking my wife while
thinking of it. She was never enthusiastic about giving me blowjobs and
they all but came to a halt the day we were married! His mouth was becoming
more inviting by the second!

"Anything, you say." I said more as a statement than a question, "I guess
that a tough, street savvy, career criminal like yourself knows what a
blowjob is. You'll be giving lots of them where you're going, trust me!" I
laughed at him for emphasis. "Perhaps you've already sucked cock in a
similar place?

He nodded, eyes bulged staring up at me and his jaw had dropped
exposing the pink, wet tongue flush against the inner side of his
bottom ivory white teeth.

"Is that a yes that you know what a blowjob is?" I persisted, he nodded.
"Or a yes that you've blown guys?"

"Nooo!" he exclaimed emphatically, searching for more words that never
escaped his trembling lips.

"Maybe we can make a deal after all, ya know? Think of it this way,... you
can suck off a whole lot of guys and certainly take it up the ass in
jail; that also comes with the territory by the way," I eased the pressure
to his scalp maintaining a grasp of hair for assurance and replaced the
receiver on the craddle, "or you can cut your losses and get on your knees
and only have to suck one cock! --That is until you fuck up again and
someone not as kind as me sends you away. Look on the bright side,... at
least you'll have the experience then!" I paused a short while for effect,
"Your choice, Sean Miller."

The moment of truth arrived when I reached for the phone again and he
slowly got down on his knees. He surveyed the scene before his eyes, closed
them and sighed. I pulled the draw strings and once the waist band was free
on my wood, gravity sent them to my knees.  With the back of his head
secured with one hand and my cock held in the other, I basted his
puckered lips to a glistening sheen before applying some pressure between
them only to meet the disappointing barrier of his clamped teeth, but
something told me that he wouldn't resist for very long and accept his fate.

I felt his warm breath exhale before his mouth allowed full access to the
even warmer confines within. Four out of six inches wasn't bad to begin
with to let him adjust to the thick girth and length that my wife joked,
looked like a perfect replica of an Italian sausage complete with the
slight curve!

After some minor coaching, I was gliding over his tightly wrapped, saliva
soaked lips, the odd scrape of teeth forgiven in lieu of the earnest effort
he was making. He learned to use his hand and tongue when pausing for
air in order to assure continued pleasure,  not much caring to lick inside
of my slit that was steadily seeping precum, but a prerequisite,
nonetheless. He learned to manipulate and knead my balls with his free
hand, then how to gently take a testicle for a spin around in his mouth,
rolling it over and under his tongue.

Yes, Sean was a quick learner. A lesson in sucking cock that even I had no
prior experience or qualifications to be teaching him. It was merely the
way I perceived  a blowjob should be performed, nothing more, nothing less
and he was a good student. If I didn't know better at the time, I'd swear
that he was enjoying it as much as I was. And I certainly was!

In the heat of the moment, I gagged him. Too much, too fast. He sputtered
and heaved, but didn't throw up. Quickly gaining his composure, I urged him
to continue and minutes later he was gagging again as I unloaded an
unprecedented orgasm. I've read a lot stories about it hitting the back of
their throats as they buried their cocks to the max and ejactulated,
perhaps that wasn't a myth, who was I to judge, all I knew is that he
comfortably bobbed on four to five inches and it was the volume of semen
that built up and clogged his air ways as I held his head in place to
recieve it. He did spit up a combination of green and white bile and cum
onto the floor the second I released him.

He looked up at me and I saw sheer hatred in his eyes, "Can I go now?" he
said with scorn, rolling his eyes in disgust and slime being wiped away
from his mouth by a forearm.

No, I decided.

"Stand up and take off your clothes." I ordered, "I wanna see you naked
first, --then you can leave!" In for a penny, in for a dime, I had nothing
to lose.

Sean stood up, but he was developing a cocky attitude, "That wasn't part of
the deal, man! Ya made me blow ya and... I did, so now I'm outta here... ya
fucking faggot!"

He was very correct. I should have been satisfied, and I was; don't get me
wrong! But I yearned far too long for more than to let him just slip away.
I wanted to suck his cock! The old adage, 'opportunity only knocks once,'
prevailed in my thoughtless thought process.

Mind games were warranted again, I picked up the phone.

"Look, mister! You call the cops and I tell them what you did to me, and..."

"You think they will believe you?" I laughed, "A kid with a record, just
trying to get out of trouble and making up lies?"

He was no dumb kid, he pulled off his t-shirt just as I faked punching in
the last digit in the 911 sequence. I had dialed 411.

Sean hesitated undoing his buttoned jeans. I fell to my knees and relieved
him of the burden. Pants and underwear down in one swipe, I stared at his
beauty. Three inches of chubby, uncut boy cock hung below a spattering of
short brown pubic hair. He was barely thirteen, I determined. My cock
responded in kind to my mental state; perversion!

Not satisfied that he was naked to his knees, I pulled off his shoes and
socks and struggled to free him of his tight jeans. The Adonis boy of my
dreams stood in front of me totally naked! I lost every ounce of dignity,
licking his arm pits, nipples and belly button. My downward quest had my
nose buried in his sparse foliage, then biting and sucking the skin above
his cock and leaving a tell tale, purplish red mark in my wake before the
main event.

Fondling his member, I concentrated on his pink, satin sac first. Both orbs
easily occupied my mouth with room to spare, my tongue darted over that
tender spot between his scrotum and his cherry bud, that was next on my
list of self degradation, I wanted to eat his asshole! Turning him around
and spreading his cheeks I found he wasn't clean. Particles of whatever
were evident; underwear lint, toilet paper, shit or all of the above didn't
inhibit my shallow excavation of his rectum. Anyone whose eaten pussy knows
where I'm coming from! Right? I licked his hole, I know that I heard him
purr and I could feel his anal muscles throb in response to the stimuli.
Another, larger hickey was planted on his inner left cheek.  Where that
sudden urge derived was beyond me!  Maybe some sort of subconscious
branding to warn others that he belongs to me!  I chucked in self
amusement. Then sadly, I realised the implications! However nothing
mattered other than the matters at hand, it was like an addiction. I
couldn't stop doing it, no desire to stop, only wanting more! I knew full
well it was wrong of me and that I took full advantage of the boy,
blackmailed and coerced him against his will. I justified everything in a
heart beat, he attempted to steal from me. The jury was still out on
whether or not he executed the last theft, but he didn't deny it when I
confronted him earlier.

Sean's cock began to expand in my mouth, the main course saved for last.
Delicious is all I can say. Remarkably, he grew to at least five inches and
thick as my thumb. I supposed that I forgot what my own developing body
looked like back then. I wasn't foolish enough to think that he gained
an erection because he was horny. It was merely a natural male response to
stimuli of the genitals, he was bored and he showed it, hands on hips and
sighing, the ever rolling of the eyes. He was denying himself the pleasure,
and I wouldn't be able to make him cum under those circumstances for all
the tea in China!

My jaw ached in relentlessness, my erection full bore. I honestly
contemplated fucking him, the last objective on my list of perverted things
to do to a boy, but without lubricant, I surmised that the task would be
rather difficult and very painful for Sean. Incriminating proof of rape,
his cherry taken would be sore and swollen, my DNA planted inside him, the
final evidence to bring me back to reality.

He looked relieved when I pulled up my pants and told him to dress. His
carnage was over. He paid the price for his indiscretion of the law by my
virtual indiscretion of his body. I felt truly sorry for him. He was a very
nice looking boy, somewhat intelligent, I gathered. I wanted to know more
about him. I offered him a beer from my fridge which he refused, obviously
anxious to get the fuck out of Dodge, lest I molested him again.

I couldn't resist asking, "Why did you want to steal people's things, Sean?"

"Oh! --Because I want to be a carpenter too and had no tools!" he said
facetiously, "Why the fuck do ya think, --for money! Are you an idiot?"

I let the insult go when I would never have tolerated it from a kid before,
but I didn't want to lose him and wanted him back for selfish reasons.

"If it's money you need, well... I can help you out. You scratch my back,
I'll scratch yours!" I bluntly advised.

Sean was even more blunt and pompous, "Ya mean you'll pay me to have sex
with you, right?"

"You're a very, very smart boy, Sean! Nothing slips by you, does it?" I
responded with callousness, not wanting him to get the upper hand.

"Let me think about it, okay? he cowered, my approach set the tone. "How
much?"

"Forty bucks."

"Sixty!" he counter offered.

"Fifty, and if you cum I'll throw in another ten."

The deal was struck. We'd always rendezvous at MacDonald's, then I would
take him to cheap motels at least twice a week, sometimes three. I couldn't
get enough of him. I was like a junkie, he became my drug of choice. I had
his phone number and an agreed cover story that he was doing odd jobs for
me in my shop, that appeased his mom not only to justify where the kid got
money from, but also calling him at home when I wanted him.

I think it was the second tryst at a motel when I convinced him into anal
sex, for a nominal fee, of course. The routine never varied after that,
first he would give me a blowjob which he excelled at performing, then he
was treated to a fifteen or twenty minute rim job that he loved receiving,
followed by a very long cock sucking session, sometimes forty-five minutes
or an hour to coax his young balls into surrendering their nectar. But the
time was well spent and allowed me to recharge and fuck him long and hard.
Sean never did get used to be fucked, but he soon stopped complaining and
accepted it.

I had covered my tracks well. Evenings spent with Sean were my regular
workout nights. My wife was satisfied during the off days. The only problem
was the depletion of our bank account. I told her that I was buying tools,
getting my car repaired, "damn lemon of a money pit" suddenly, and anything
else I could think of under pressure.

Eventually forced to abandon the comforts of a motel room, the loft of the
garage was cleaned out and added an old mattress, it substituted as our
love nest. Sean reluctantly accepted a pay cut of half of what he was
accustomed to. I had to forfeit bum fucking him unless I paid an
additional twenty for the privilege What he did with his money was none of
my business, but I was certain that he wasn't taking drugs. He did buy
electronic gizmos, I saw those in his possession as well as the latest
teen clothing accessories that I enjoyed removing from his body.

After a few months, Sean had become a fixture around my shop, we discovered
he had knack for carpentry. I was more than happy to teach him. He learned
the use of lathes, band saws, plains and various hand tools. He mass
produced bird houses that he sold door to door, it seemed nobody could
refuse his entrepreneur, handcrafted  work. His biggest seller of various
designs was what he called "Bird Nestominiums, a multiple family housing
facility."

His sales spiel said it all, "So many homeless birds looking for housing.
Because of the shortage, they're forced to live in your eaves and attics!
Did you know that the more birds living in your yard, the less bugs you'll
have?" He named his business "Miller's Avian Real-estate Sales," acronym,
MARS,  and made flyers illustrating his available designs that I
photocopied for him at work. I was so proud of him. I was also falling in
love with him!

His "fees" for sex were reduced substantially and bum fucking was thrown in
gratis, compensating me for my materials and equipment used in his business
venture that I brought to his attention after one of our 'unbored
room meetings.'

Dianne, my wife, grew accustomed and fond of Sean, his presence around the
house became regular. He ate meals with us often and he was always the
perfect, polite young man around her. "The son you always wanted!" She
would say. If only she knew.

My marital bed was a welcomed change of venue on occasion. My wife worked
Saturdays and my young daughter spent most of the weekends at her
grandparents home. One day Sean and I were showering together in the en
suite. Dianne came home early. The bedroom was strewn with discarded
clothes, the ever meticulously made bed was wrinkled. An uncapped bottle of
lubricant sat on the bed table. Five minutes earlier, she would have
witnessed what caused her mother's hand made quilt to be disheveled.

She entered the bathroom just as Sean and I were exiting the shower,
embarrassed, she made apologies and made a hasty retreat. I was fucking
paranoid! I didn't have to tell Sean to dress quick and get the fuck out of
the house. Second thoughts had me instruct him otherwise, stay for dinner
as usual and act like normal. His abrupt departure would only add
suspicion. A very wise decision, I thought.

Relieved that Dianne wasn't banging pots and pans, slamming dishes on the
table as she usually did when angry, she only smiled at us and asked how
Sean's micro business was. Random conversation followed and we had a nice
pasta dinner. Afterward, Sean bade farewell, kissed Dianne and shook my
hand with a manly hug.

Shortly after his departure she began to question things! "Why were you two
showering together, don't you think that's a little odd?"

"Ohhh, --Dianne,... the fucking heat today!... I mean the garage was like
an oven, as usual, and we were covered in saw dust. I told Sean that I
needed a shower before you came home, he said he needed one too!" I tried
to reason.

"But don't you think it a little odd... ya know, to shower with him?"

"Dianne!... like... we're both boys!" I shrugged, chuckled and peered at
her quizzically, an academy award performance.  "I shower with boys all the
time at the pool! --I mean, he just followed me... guess maybe I could have
told him to use the hall bath room and mess it up, --but as I said, we're
both boys, no big deal!, really!"

She smiled, accepting my plausible explanation without question, and joked,
"He must have been in an awful hurry, cuz he left a trail of his clothes up
the stairs!"

"Boy stuff, honey, --that's all" I forced a  laugh, slapped my knee.
I recalled his strip tease that he knew I loved. His provocative,
sexy dance as he hummed the famous stripper tune, slowly undressing as
he climbed the stairs. "We're lucky,"  I chuckled, "we have a daughter;...
 girls tend to pick up after themselves, --hooray for us!" She hadn't
noticed the bottle of lube, thank God, and she didn't comment on
her crumpled quilt. I put both out of my mind and changed the subject.

My payments for sexual services rendered ceased. It was taken out in trade
instead when I made him realize the expense of materials. He had branched
out and was creating beautiful oak plaques, the sir names of families
creatively routered amidst leaves burnt into the wood and shellacked to a
shiny resin finish, to be mounted by his clientele at their front doors. At
only thirteen, Sean displayed a natural carpentry skill, not to mention a
superb business aptitude that I admire to this very day! He was always
thinking ahead of fresh, new sell-ables, knowing that his limited community
market place would eventually dry up in the need for what he had to offer.

Sean's body literally and rapidly developed before my eyes over a six month
period. I adored each new sprouting pubic hair, every millimeter
increase of genital maturity. His semen became thicker and whiter and
ejaculated gobs of it as far as his neck, or more deliciously, to the back
of my throat! He reached orgasm sooner and sooner and I learned to read
every twitch and pulse of his cock, the slight retraction of his testicles
and his breathing to know exactly when he was ready. I enjoyed making him
squirm, prolonging the inevitable and torturing him as long as I could,
until he would shutter and shake like he was having an epileptic seizure!

Although he would never admit it, Sean was enjoying the sex the further
he blossomed through puberty. I believed that at some point, he reached the
magical stage of sexual awakening and awareness and the pleasure derived
from letting himself experience the wonders of it. I also think that he
finally understood the pleasures he had been providing me the many
months of our relationship.

He had always refused my attempts to kiss him passionately, "that was too
gay," he insisted. Stressing all to often after the sex that he wasn't gay,
and naming girls at school that he wanted to fuck, in order to satisfy his
straight persona in his own mind. I promoted bisexuality as simply an
alternative sexual diversion, "the best of both worlds!" After all, I was
married, and what better role model for him?

A new sexual act was added to our itinerary, Sean was fucking me
thereafter. Initially, I couldn't refuse his curiosity to explore new
things, thinking it was a passing fancy, but it wasn't.The role reversal
was difficult for me to accept. In all my wildest dreams of boys, never had
I entertained the thought of a young boy fucking me. Sucking their cocks or
eating ass was not considered demeaning to me, but anal intercourse I
believed to be the man's role in order to maintain his dignity and have the
balance of power in his favor. Not that I didn't like the new experience, I
loved it! But for whatever inane, physiological reason, it shamed me!

However, in order to keep Sean's interest, I ended up submissive to him and
that soon led to his assuming the dominant role in bed. He became
selfish to his own needs, knowing full well the power he held over my
perversion for him. Seldom did I savour the taste of his sweetness any
longer, instead he humped me like a dog in heat, wasting it in the depth of
my innards and then collapsing, sprawled over my back.

to be continued...