Date: Sun, 24 Jul 2005 09:25:04 -0500
From: Aihu Fist <aihufist@yahoo.com>
Subject: my life as a whoring student part 5

Raped by a Gun
			       by Aihu Fist

I was getting very focused on myself, lately. I observed the growth of hair
on my legs with hawk eyes. I hated it. Maybe it would make me less
attractive, I thought. I knew at least a handful of guys who would drop me
instantly if they discovered one hair on my thighs or butt. I was not hairy
at all and fortunately the genes in my family were not provoking early
growth of mustache or beard hair. My father had left us and I was glad for
that. He used to beat the shit out of my mum and occasionally us kids. I
would never be able to stay back in the city or stay over at Luc's had my
father been here. But my brother was mimicking my father's brutality and
took it out on us: my elder sister and me. That's why I really enjoyed
'humiliating him at night like cutting his dick hair off and stuff.

 I loved to wear shorts and stay 'young was an obsession for me. I wanted
men to find me attractive and take me home and do things with me. I cannot
explain why, I really cannot. I provoked men, maybe to see how far I could
get with them. On the scene at night I spotted two newcomers, they were
fifteen too, Yugoslavian. I fell in love straight away. They used to hang
out late at night in discos. They danced boogie together, which seemed to
very normal for them. I asked them whether they were gay and they denied
it. Men, dancing together was very common in Yugoslavia, they told
me. Those days, jeans were tight around the bum and the crotch, oh how I
hate the baggy fashion today. Bermudas, boxer shorts, please get rid of
them!

My haircut was in page style, it made me more effeminate, though I had no
queen look so to speak.  I had no idea, I wasn't that conscious of myself.

As soon as I got of the train in Brussels North I had to walk through the
red district area. I saw one brothel after another with only women in front
of the windows, sitting on plush chairs and beckoning customers. I never
looked at them, really; on the contrary, I hated them.  My colleagues from
school used to make fun of them. It was amazing that students had to walk
through this street and face it all. I don't know why I hated it, maybe I
found the women too vulgar; it surely increased my revulsion for straight
sex.

In the class room I looked at my schoolmates, scanned their faces and at
gym class I glanced discretely at their crotches, hairy armpits. I felt
like a thirteen year old amongst them. Were they still virgin? Had they
fucked a girl yet? How could I find out? They were always talking about
girls and I thought the stories they eagerly recounted were merely made up
on the spot. I simply couldn't imagine them having sex, because I put them
on a pedestal of innocence. I knew I had been ridden by various men and
sucked a great many dicks, I couldn't even count on my hands. What if they
knew or found out? How would they look at me?

I thought of the days I had stayed at the sanatorium for the treatment of
my asthma at the Belgian coast. The memories of being alone at night, and
the many weekends without a visit of my parents - because they couldn't
afford a three hundred kilometer train journey up and down. How I felt
abandoned the first day my father had left me there. He was hard, showing
little emotion. We boys were put up in dorms, each counting four huge
bedrooms and each housing fifteen bed. I belonged to the copains (the
friends) age twelve to fifteen. We were not allowed to use our own
underwear; we had it all from the institution. Our jogging suits made of
the cheapest material were a dark purple. We had communal showers and our
animators were students of sociology. We had the first year guys, the
second and the third. The ones of the third year were tougher and didn't
leave us much space to fool around. They had enough experience in the last
three years they had studied here to deal with us. The first comers were
nice and friendly and loved us. Some kids took of course advantage of this
kindness, which later we paid for in collective punishments like running
through the dunes in the cold rain while the wind was beating and lashing
our naked legs. We wore shorts in summer and springtime and Belgium isn't
exactly a sub tropical country.

My mind went back in time and lingered in there visualizing how my friend
Johan asked me to kiss him. He was one year younger than me. How odd he
wanted to kiss me on my mouth/ I was taken aback by his boldness, but I did
it. Or teeth clashed at first, we French kissed any way for a few
minutes. At night we watched TV with the other boys. No educator was
around. Steve sat next to me and was rubbing his dick. It was huge and
growing askew. I took it in my hands and rubbed it hard, he took mine and
no one made objections. I had Francis sleeping next to my bed; he was only
eleven. I asked him to caress me between my thighs and underneath my
balls. He did it with a smile.

All those memories flashed through my head when I looked at my half naked
running around in underwear schoolmates. The gym teacher hurried us up by
clapping in his hands.

I was always the last one to leave the locker room. As a matter of fact, it
was a room without lockers. We all kept our underwear in our schoolbag and
on the pegs on the wall.  There wasn't one boy I was interested in; they
had all grown hairy on their legs. I still felt revulsion looking at a cock
with pubic hair.  I thought of Luc, I hadn't seen him for a while. Other
boys from his class drew my attention. During recess, I had access to sixth
graders too. They looked so cute. My hands were itching to feel their butts
and tiny willies. But I noticed I got upset with myself when I thought of
horny things. I wanted to see them as angelic innocent beings and God knows
they ain't. I wasn't and my roommates weren't. I realized I had no friends
at all at school. I was a loner. I had many questions about the purpose of
life and why I was what I was?  The lonelier I got the stronger my sex
drive and libido went. At thirteen I had started a scrapbook with drawings
of my own penis. MI had measured about everything. The size of my piss
slit, the clans, the circumference of my cock, the length of it hard and
flaccid. I had the size of my balls and their diameter all written down in
it. I had cut out celebrities in underwear or beachwear and restored their
manhood with wax crayons. While doing this I grew hard and jacked off
nervously. This was my secret world. From men my collages went to boys. I
had cut out a picture of an aboriginal boy from Australia out of an
encyclopedic magazine. He turned me on. He was only dressed in a whitish
loincloth, was dark brown with a Mowgli-ish bush of hair on his head.  But
at night, alone in my bed, I took a hankie and let it descend between my
spread legs and caressed my crotch with it. I had my eyes close and thought
of Francis' fingers wandering there.

We were reaching well into summertime, all young boys were in shorts, no
Lycra yet, just cotton shorts of the old fashioned kind. It was really hard
to keep my attention to my studies. I stood in shorts at the place
Fontainas those days, in an Arab neighborhood, but still very much in the
center of Brussels. A stone throw away from the South Station.  It was ten
pm. I knew I would have to sleep at Abdul's if I was going to stay
longer. It was crowded; on all corners we had boys on the outlook for a
micheton (customer). I fondled my cock to get hard and slightly opened my
button fly. I wasn't wearing any briefs.  A car passed by twice. The man
inside looked intently at me. By the third time they stopped and urged me
to get in. It was eleven now and half of the kids had gone with
someone. Some came back in fifteen minutes; they had done a quickie in the
car. The trick was not to come, because some customers wanted us to come
and gobble up our sperm juice, others didn't. If we had come we 'd lose out
on a customer or two. The thing was to have the customer come as fast as
possible, cash in and go for another one.  I got in the small Honda. We
pushed of to the Forêt de Soignes, one of the last naturals forests
remaining in Belgium. The car stopped abruptly and switched on the light
inside.  -How old are you boy?  -Eighteen, I lied.  -Show me your ID?
-What for?  -Therefore, he said and showed me his police badge.

I shrinked in fear.

-I don't have it on me; I swear I am eighteen, sir, I...I gotta to. I was
waiting for my friend's friend to pick me up there.  -At this time and that
place, are you kidding me? He laughed.  -I thought you were his friend to
pick me up, that's why I got in so fast in your car, really. I had no idea
where he lives.  He opened up the door at my left side and said:

-Get out.

It was quite fresh for a summer night; I felt the breeze on my legs and
face. But It wasn't going to be a romantic night out here, I figured.

-Listen boy, he said as he grabbed my hand, I am no fool, I work for the
vice squad. Do you know what that means?  -No sir, I lied again.  -Are you
really that silly ass you pretend to be or do you think I am one?

I said no more. I knew something was coming up.

-You can choose, kid. Either I turn you in to the juvenile judge who will
inform your parents or you can right now start stripping your shorts and
T-shirt, right here in front of me, you hear?

I nodded. When my shorts lay at my feet he said:

-You wear nothing underneath, are you sure you are not a business boy?
What could I say?  I slipped my T-shirt over my head and stood there in my
naked glory in front of cop.

-Come here, he said. Let me smell you.

His hands ravaged through my hair, his lips touched my forehead descended
to my eyebrows, on to my eyelids, which I closed firmly. I think I liked
the way he kissed me. I had never been kissed like that. His hands held my
shoulders in a steady grip. He searched for my mouth entered his tongue and
broke my lips open. His thick tongue smelled whiskey and cigarettes, which
nearly made me puke. However, I didn't pull away.

-Good, boy, I see you like it. Now unbutton my fly slowly while I continue
kissing you and wank me nicely, ok.

He had a pistol in a holster on his belt. He was a cop indeed. He was
dressed in a marine blue Lacoste T-shirt, his nipples poking through the
fabric. I removed his fat hard cock out of his boxer shorts. A long thread
of precum filled my hand when I pulled back the foreskin.  He was still
French kissing me when he picked me up and turned me upside down showing my
mouth over his cock while he had mine in his. This was awesome. The guy was
strong and braced me from the waist with his gorilla arms against his
stomach. Then he nibbled at every centimer of my flesh.  His cock was
small, I think like my brother's about twelve centimeters, but it felt nice
in my mouth, I remember.  As I thought he was a nice guy, I had found this
time, I found out I was gravely mistaken. He put me back on my feet and
threw me on the car over the engine. My legs hung down from the front over
along the headlights.

-Open your mouth, boy, he hissed.

He took out his pistol and put the nose of it down near my tonsils. My
heart raced like mad. Who was this motherfucker?

-It is loaded, you see? I am going to fuck you real hard while you suck my
friend.

He unbuckled and shouted: move y'r legs over my shoulders, quickly.

I did what was told. He was gonna fuck me with a gun in my throat, did that
turn him on. He was sick. He rode me like a stallion, He heaved and sighed
and moaned, and pretty sure we were alone. I had no pain, as his penis was
small. He had only lubed it with his own spit and plunged in me like
mad. His eyes rolled backwards, his face became red a swollen like a
drunk. The headlights were off and no car was heard in mile around. With a
cracking voice he came inside me, plugging on until the last drop of his
semen hit me.  He pulled the gun out and put it back where it belonged.

-Now I want you to wank in front of me, he barked. We still have time. I
can't bare the thought you would have another one after me. A pretty boy
like you could take several ones at nigh, couldn't you?
 I nodded.

-I know, I have observed you many a times and secretly filmed you. Now you
are part of our archive, he smirked triumphantly.

While he said all this I stroked my cock fast and wild. I squirted my
precious cum right at his feet.

-Ok, nice, I'll drive you back to town. Next time I see you again you are
in trouble, because we will be two to take turns on you, you hear.

I nodded sheepishly. We said nothing more till he dropped me off at place
de Brouckêre, the center of the capital. I walked all the way to Schaerbeek
as there was no tram available anymore. Around twenty past midnight I rang
Abdul's doorbell. He opened up in his pajamas.

-Hi my friend, so late? Come in.

He looked at my tight short tight shorts.

-I haven't seen you for ages. What's going on?

I didn't know where to start my story. No way I could tell him about my
night activities, he would maybe think badly of me or start using me as a
whore as well.

-Sit down, have a cup of good Turkish tea; it will cheer you up. Does your
mum know you are here?

I nodded.

-Fine then. God, you look gorgeous. I missed you so many weeks. I must have
been two months since I saw you last. I have many pictures of Luc. You want
to see them.

-Yes, I said. Feeling a pang of love when I heard him pronounce 'Luc's
name.

He was down in a minute with a portfolio as thick as a bible.

-Luc came over several times and posed here in my bedroom and in the
kitchen.  I develop them myself you see, it is too risky for me to have
them processed in a shop.

I was listening but my eyes popped out of their sockets when I saw close
ups of Luc's boy hole and groin. Did I notice a slight growing of hair
around his pubes, though still silky looking? My cock in my shorts, swell
to a visible volume.  Abdul surely knew how to arouse me. He did it all on
purpose. By the time we had Luc staring at us with his legs open and his
hands stretching his arse muscle, Abdul had his hands on me: one at the
back, and one kneading my rubbery stone hard cock.

I let him passively take hold of me. I was his doll, his toy. I let him. He
could do as he pleased because I really felt he loved me. Several times he
asked me suck him, and I did no matter how repulsive the idea, I did it to
please him and to console my self with the idea that I was truly wanted by
someone.

-You are so handsome my Alex, he said while holding my head at my ears.

He stroked my earlobes, licked my chin went down to my throat and sucked at
my emerging Adam's apple. I laid the book to rest and gave in. He slid my
shorts off and buried his long penis between my thighs underneath my
scrotum. He moved silently, took my hands and placed them gently on his
backside, pushing my finger into his crack.

-Push it in, sweetie, he whispered. We have all the time.

This was my second fuck in one night and he had no idea. I kept silent as a
grave and let him have a go at me.

-Tomorrow I want to take a thousand nude pictures of you, you hear. You are
growing up too fast. I want to take your beauty in forever.

He added, while he moved his hips in a frenzy. I finally felt the hot semen
leak underneath my balls dripping to my arse cleft. He turned me on my
stomach and lapped me doggishly while breathing loudly. Luckily he didn't
suck me. I was too tired. We fell asleep like that on the couch, both naked
with just a bed sheet covering us, and the portfolio open and naked on the
carpet.

How do you feel about my life?


Aihufist@yahoo.com