Date: Wed, 03 Aug 2005 05:59:51 +0200 From: Stray Kiwi <straykiwi@hotmail.com> Subject: Starting the Journey - Ezra The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental. If male-to-male sexual scenes offend you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years old, the laws in most areas state that you're just too young to read filth like this. Stray straykiwi@hotmail.com ______________________________________________________________________________ EZRA Starting a Journey of Discovery . . . Ezra was gorgeous. Even at the age of fourteen, when I first laid eyes on him, Ezra was gorgeous. Blonde, blue-eyed, a strong jaw-line and a lean, loose, big-boned body. Gorgeous. He'd moved into my street with his mother and I'd done the neighbourly thing of helping them to move in. His mother was damned good value and we'd struck up an instant friendship. That's sorta how Ezra started coming `round to my place every day after school. His mother worked until 5.30 so Ezra would come `round to use my computer for his homework - his younger brother and sister were always using their home computer for what Ezra described as `crap kid stuff' - and to use the home gym that I'd set up in my basement. He was a good kid and I trusted him so it didn't matter if I was there or not - my work kept my timetable very flexible! This easy-going routine kept up for a few years until . . . By the time Ezra reached the age of seventeen he'd developed into quite a stud - but he didn't let his well-developed, muscular body or his natural good looks go to his head. He was intent on studying hard and getting into a good university. A great kid. Honest, respectful, intelligent and diligent. And still gorgeous . . . Anyway, it so happened that I was fooling around on the net one day and lost track of a work-related site that I'd visited the week before. I hit the History button to try and find it and - lo and behold - a whole heap of extra sites popped up. They were all sites I'd visited before at various times when I was surfing for my specific kinds of porn filth but I knew damned well that I hadn't jerked off at those sites in weeks . . . And only one other person had access to my computer . . . I just happened to be in the middle of a workout when Ezra called in the next day. "Hey, Ez, howzit? Any homework?" "Hey, Mr. B.," he replied. He'd come dressed in sweats ready to strip down to shorts for a workout but he'd brought a bag of books with him. "English assignment. D'you know `Othello'? Shakespeare?" "Ah, `The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief'." "That's Act One somewhere . . . Do you know everything, Mr. B.?" "Act One, scene three, actually. No, not everything, Ezra. But I did learn a lot yesterday . . .'Virtue! a fig! `tis in ourselves that we are thus . . . or thus.' You wanna do your assignment first or burn off some excess physical energy with a workout?" "I should get on with the assignment, really, but . . . `'Tis neither here nor there'." "Well done," I replied, laughing, "You're using the text - that's a practical sign that you understand it. What else do you understand, Ezra?" "What do you mean?" he asked, unsure of the direction I was suddenly taking. "You understand cookies?" "Eerr, I don't suppose you're talking Oreos . . ." "Cookies," I repeated. "Small bits of information that are stored in the computer for regular use. You know - names, passwords . . . `TeenageSlaveSlut', for instance; there's a name that could be saved as a cookie." Ezra stammered a bit and blushed. He'd been caught red handed and at least had the good grace not to deny anything. "Oh, shit - sorry, Mr. B . . . I was . . . just fooling around and . . ." "That leather Master in New York didn't seem to think you were fooling around." "You read my Hotmail?!" "Fuckin' hot Hotmail it was too! Do you do everything he demands of you, Ezra? Tie up your nuts and dick? Are you working on loosening up your asshole for him? Drinking your own slaveslut piss?" "I said I was sorry, Mr. B . . . I . . ." "Just answer the fucking question. Have you done those things?" "I . . ." he hung his handsome head in shame, staring the floor and replied in a quiet voice - "Yes, I have . . ." "Good. Strip." Ezra snapped his head up to look at me questioningly. "You heard, slut - strip." He remained standing there, his mouth gaping open, staring at me stupidly. I just drank in the sight - here was a prick-teasing cyber-flirt on the verge of finally getting what he'd always fantasised about. I'd read his e-mails, his message-board postings - all about how he wanted to serve, to worship, to grovel before, to be OWNED by a Man. How he wanted to suckle the sweat from his Master's Glorious Pits; to drink of the Glorious Fountain of his Master's Bladder; and to suck the sweet Nectar of his Master's Jubilant Eruption . . . I continued to stare at him. He hesitated, swallowed hard, his eyes still on mine. Slowly, he bent down and loosened the laces of his trainers. He stood erect again and kicked off his shoes, gingerly grabbed the bottom of his shirt and started to raise it over his torso. He stopped. "Mr B., I don't . . ." I lunged towards him and grabbed his face in my hand. "Listen up, Ezra. Up to this point you've been nothing but a prick-teasing, horny teenage wannabe with a wild dream of submitting yourself before a dominant Man. Life isn't about dreams, Ezra. It's about achievement, achieving goals. Are these sexual desires of yours nothing but dreams? Or are they achievable goals? "You can live the dream all your life, doing nothing but privately follow the `orders' of some faceless, bodiless e-mail `master' if you want - or you can live the reality and give yourself over to a real Master. Our friendship needn't change, but the key to turn our friendship into something more, something wild, exciting, something real, that key is yours." I released his face, pushing back a step or two. "You wanna live in dreamland, Ezra? Or do you wanna work on achieving some goals?" Ezra continued to stare at me for a further few seconds, then ripped the shirt over his head and dropped his sweat pants and briefs. "Good boy," I murmured. "Get your hands behind your head, feet apart." He readily complied and I drank in the beauty of his young, muscular body, noting with amusement that his dick was rock hard. I ran an admiring hand over his left bicep, across his shoulder, chest, his beautifully defined abs, and `round to his perfect bubble butt. Yesterday this kid was the gorgeous, good-natured son of a neighbour. Now he was an agreeable object of dark desires. "You've got a good body, cocksucker," I said squeezing his butt cheek. "Seems that all that time in my gym has paid off - for you. Now's the time for you to pay me . . ." I suddenly grabbed his nipples and squeezed. His knees buckled slightly as he moaned in pleasure. I increased the pressure and twisted them. He whimpered and nearly fell to his knees. I released his tits and stepped back. Ezra slowly straightened his legs and stood fully upright again, his hands still behind his head. Slowly, deliberately, I walked around behind this little slave stud, wrapped my arms around his chest, rubbing his nipples and grinding my denim-covered crotch into his naked, muscular ass. "That's better, cumbucket," I murmured. "Your tits are nearly as hard as your faggot dick. What else can we play with?" I ran my hands down his body, into his crotch, avoiding his drooling dick, and wrapped them lightly around his balls. They were tight, riding high in his sac. I wrapped forefinger and thumb around the top of his sac and gently pulled down on his balls. Again, he buckled at the knees, trying to escape from the pressure I was exerting on his tender nuts. I wrapped the rest of my hand around his balls and squeezed gently, judging his pain threshold. He threw his head back sharply, eyes and mouth clamped shut as he emitted a strangulated groan. "Fuckit, kid - don't get so carried away. I've hardly fuckin' started . . . Get back in position." He resumed his previous stance - feet apart, dick and balls swinging free, his head high with his hands behind. I ordered him to push his arms backs, thus thrusting out his chest and showing off every line of muscle in his torso. "You're gonna havta come round here a lot more often, Ezra. We're gonna havta get this body of yours into some serious shape." I walked behind him slowly, admiring his lithe, muscular, youthful body. I wrapped one arm around his chest and grabbed hold of a nipple - gently twisting, tugging on it - while I loaded two fingers from my other hand with saliva and eased them up his hairless, tight little asshole. "You want that, slut? Hmmm, you want me to work on your body?" "Yes, Sir," he replied. His voice was clear, assured. He knew what he wanted - he didn't yet know what he was going to get . . . _________________________________________________________________________ Copyright 2004 - Stray. straykiwi@hotmail.com All Rights Reserved. Permission is NOT granted to publish this story to any PAY site, nor any site other than nifty.org, without the author's prior consent.