Date: Wed, 27 Aug 2014 03:26:45 -0500
From: jason.kason@manlymail.net
Subject: Cock Worshipper Part 4

COCK WORSHIPPER PART 4
by Jason Kason
jason.kason@manlymail.net
jasonkason.tumblr.com

~~~~~~

Philip says I need to put more about my feelings into my journal entries
and include a lot less detail about the sex.

"But that's why was why I was put in therapy in the first place," I said
back to him.  "Because of the sex and not being able to control it."

"True, but to gain some control over your behaviour, Jason, you need to be
aware of the emotions that underlie it.  When you understand why you feel
like you do, then you can move onto modifying how you react in different
situations."

I hadn't even dared nod, never mind agree with him.  Given any sign of
encouragement, he can prattle on like this for a whole session.

"Did you like what I wrote, though?" I asked, trying to move the
conversation on.  "About what happened with Bulmer near the level crossing,
and then Hutchy asking me to meet up with him?"

Philip nodded.  "It was interesting and some of the ways you phrased things
were quite revealing.  But I didn't like the bit where you tried to
anticipate how I would feel on reading it.  You need to write for yourself,
Jason, and not try to second-guess my reaction to it."

So I need to write the way he tells me to write, every emotion teased out
and dissected, but also to write the way I want to write.  Typical
self-contradictory psychobabble, if you ask me.

So I'll keep writing this my way.  It's working for me, doing it like this.
I'm actually quite enjoying writing all this down.  It's a bit like a
diary, one I wish I'd written at the time this was all happening.

Let's start at the back of Fishburn Street, where – just as you could
easily have figured out – I was hanging around that autumn evening from
about ten to six when it was starting to get dark.

Before I get to the bit where Hutchy turned up, I thought I'd mention that,
unlike Ted Barrass, I actually gave into my curiosity and looked him up on
Facebook.

Gavin Hutchinson is his full name and it didn't take me that long to find
him.  It's a pretty common name and there was a long list of pictures but,
although his face now looks horribly weathered and his blond hair is going
thin on top, you can instantly pick him out from his cheeky smirk.  His
profile is open – yeah, he's stupid enough to leave it like that –
and so I got to see photos of him and his whale of a wife, as well as their
two little kids.  It's actually quite eerie how the boy is the spit of how
Hutchy was when I knew him back then.  They're all on holiday in some
foreign shit-hole where there's British bars everywhere you look, and
Hutchy's tree trunk arms are covered in tattoos and one of his ears is
pierced with four or five rings.

He's changed a lot since that first night in the backstreet, but I bet he
still likes meeting up with other fellas on the quiet to gratify what he
used to call his 'flaw'.

Anyway, the younger version of Hutchy turned up just gone six, grinning at
me like he knew full well my curiosity would get the better of me.

We didn't even say hello.  He tried a few back gates until he found one
that would open, took a quick shifty inside and muttered, "We'll be alright
in here.  No-one'll catch us."

Still not entirely trusting his motives, I initially left things to him.  I
didn't want him to accuse me of coming onto him, like Bulmer had, but if he
really did want me to go down on his cock, I didn't want to fuck things up
by acting too coy.

The backyard was empty and the house was in darkness.  There was a little
outhouse on one side, maybe an old coal shed or an outside loo, and we went
behind that.

"Come on, then," he said, impatiently, unzipping his fly.  "Turn round and
pull your pants down."

"Turn around?" I asked.  "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Kasey!  Stop pissin' about!  Turn round and shove your arse out.
I wanna bum you."

He pulled his cock out from his zipper and it looked fully hard but, as I'd
expected, quite small and thin.  Much smaller than mine, and mine's only
average.

I wasn't sure I liked where this was heading.  "I thought we'd
just... well... I thought I was gonna suck you off."

"Naah, I don't like the feel of that," he said.  "I just like bumming.
Only I have to be the one doing it though.  I don't bend over, me.  Not for
no-one."

"I've never done bumming," I explained hesitantly.  "I don't know that I'd
like it."

"Oh come on, soft lad," he snapped, wanking his little kiddie-sized cock
off to keep it hard.  "If you like suckin' cocks, you'll fuckin' love
getting knobbed up your arsehole!  Just turn round, yank your keks down and
bend over like you're taking a shit."

"But bumming, Hutchy... it's a bit... you know... heavy..."

He was asking for our bodies to be joined together: his cock actually
plugged up my bum.  I know it's a bit like that when you're giving a
blowjob, but having this ratty lad's dick properly inside my body suddenly
seemed a bit scary.

"It's not that different to what you did with Bulmer.  For a woofter like
you, it'll be fuckin' heaven, I promise."

I looked down at his prick in the dusky half-light as he jerked off in
front of me.  His bright red bell-end was like a dinky little button
mushroom.

"Can I suck you off first?" I asked.  I could tell it would be lovely to
slurp away on his knob and, unlike with Bulmer, I could easily get the
whole thing into my mouth.

He shook his head.  "I told you I don't like it, and in any case I haven't
got time.  I've gotta be home by seven and you've already spent ten minutes
fannyin' around."

I did as he said, disappointed that I wasn't get to see sniff and taste and
rub my face on his stiff little pecker.  It might be a fraction of the size
of Edgy's and Bulmer's but I was sure it would be just as wonderful in its
own unique way.

I pulled my trousers and briefs down around my thighs and bent over,
grabbing the damp brick wall to steady myself.

I was about get butt-fucked like proper queers do.  I'd known it would
happen at some point – ever since I'd found out that boys like me who
like other boys' cocks usually end up having them pushed up their arses –
but I hadn't realised it would be so soon, never mind like this in some
grimy backyard.

And as for my feelings, to give in to Philip's advice: well, I think at
that precise moment, my main emotion was one of being scared shitless, if
you'll forgive the badly timed use of that expression.  I expected having
Hutchy's dick up my bum was going to be absolute agony and that my mam
would end up finding blood in the back of my pants and quickly figure out
what I'd done.  And I really didn't want her to know I was letting other
boys use my like this, bending over with my pants down so they could shove
their horny knobs up my arsehole.

I heard Hutchy spit and for a second I thought he was doing what Bulmer had
done and was spitting on me to show how much he hated fags.  But when I
looked back over my shoulder, I realised he was spitting on his cock.

"It needs to be wet," he explained when he saw me looking at what he was
doing.  "Otherwise it's a fuckin' nightmare to get in.  And it'll hurt like
stink if it hasn't got spit on it.  Well, only for you.  It won't hurt me."

He threw me a smile and he looked quite sweet.  He could sometimes be quite
caring in his own rough way.

He pushed his cock against my hole, going on that, "Fanny batter makes
cocks slide up girls nice and smooth.  But arseholes haven't got anything
like that.  You should start carrying a little tub of Vaseline around with
you, Kasey.  The stuff you get for your lips.  That works a fuckin' treat."

He'd obviously done this many times before, I thought.  And not just with
lads but with lasses too.

I followed his advice on the Vaseline, by the way.  Always had a little tub
in my inside jacket pocket after that.

He pressed his cock really firmly against my bunghole and, to my surprise
and maybe to his too, it opened up for him to slide in a few inches.

Now I really did feel like I was a total gay boy: bending over like that
with another lad's cock pushing its way up my bum.  But I didn't feel in
any way ashamed that I was letting Hutchy butt-fuck me: I just felt
relieved that it didn't hurt half as much as I'd feared and was trying to
figure out how I could show his cock proper appreciation with muscles and
senses that I'd hardly previously known that I even had.

"Aah, yeah!" he called out.  "That is... fuckin'... mint!  I love the feel
of an arse around my knob, mate.  It's so tight and it looks so hot to see
my dick between a nice, round pair of arse-cheeks."

I bent a bit lower so he could push his shaft further up me, soon getting
used to the sensation and beginning to like it.  It felt a bit sore the way
it was stretching my hole open but, it was, nevertheless, a lad's erection
that was pushing into me, and even though I couldn't taste or smell it, I
found I could enjoy its shape by squeezing my bum around it.

It was still cock worship, only in a very different way.

I pushed my bum further out, encouraging him to shove the rest of his dick
up me, and Hutchy laughed that he knew I'd like it once I got started.

"I knew you'd like gettin' bummed, Kasey.  Lads like you always do!"

He grabbed me by the hips and began slowly fucking me.  He was far more
sensual than Bulmer and clearly liked to savour the pleasure of intimacy.
Although he'd said he had to be home by seven, he was in no rush to finish
off early and only gradually increased his rhythm to allow us both time to
warm into our sex and enjoy it fully.

I started working back against him, moving in time with him.  I realised I
was by now running a throbbing pork-on of my own and started wanking myself
off as his pacing steadily quickened.

"You're a right fuckin' bum-boy, Jason Kason – do you know that?" he
laughed.

I laughed back and realised he was pretty spot-on.

"What we'll do, right," he told me, still taking his time but gently
increasing his rhythm and the roughness of his thrusts, "is, when I fancy a
bit of bum stuff with you, I'll let you know the time and place after
assembly or at breaktime or something like that.  I'll just pass you by in
a corridor and say where and when.  Then you'll turn up and I'll shag you
same as I am now.  How does that sound?"

It sounded really nice so I nodded quickly.

I mean, I'd have preferred a lad who liked me to suck him off and lick his
dribbly bell-end before doing this to me, but if Hutchy wasn't into that
then so be it.  Maybe, over time, I could persuade him to get into
it... after all, it'd taken him just a couple of minutes to get me to give
up my butthole to him.

His thrusting got faster.  He moved his hands up to my shoulders and I bent
lower to really pump his dick with my arse.  I'd always wondered why
gay-boys getting screwed up the butt had to bend over for it.  Now I could
understand: it just felt so fucking good like that, splaying your arse wide
open to fully pleasure the cock.

I jacked my dick off faster and faster.  This was totally amazing: better
than I could ever have expected.  It's occurred to me many times, over and
over, that I was really lucky that my first fuck was with a lad whose cock
was, for all it was so skilled, a lot smaller than average.  Its size
helped it slide into me without too much pain, made losing my virginity
that much easier and left me with hardly any soreness in the hours
afterwards.

My first mega-fuck – that is with a lad whose cock was even bigger than
Bulmer's – came a good while afterward, and as I winced and grimaced
with the thing cleaving me in two, the thought came to me that if this had
been my first – well, that, my friends, would have been the end of that.

This journal would have been short and not very sweet.

That drain pipe fuck was with a dweeby, spotty lad who worked at the
Gateway supermarket in the precinct in town.  I'll tell you that story some
day.  He was a total dork with a retard brace on his teeth but, Jesus
Christ, he had a knob on him that could have fed a family of four for a
week.

That was some cock worshipping I did that day.  I mean, I would have been
down on my knees singing its praises to the good lord above if I'd only had
time between the wanking it, sucking it and trying to get the huge fucking
thing into my butt.

Anyway, back to Hutchy and what I was feeling as I bent as low as I could
against the wall.  Got to think of the feelings and keep my good counsellor
happy.

I was loving having him butt-fuck me, that much is pretty obvious.  I was
relieved that, once we'd both got into it, it stopped hurting completely:
that his cock just slid quickly and smoothly in and out of me like it was
meant to be up there.  I was pleased that there'd be no blood and no
awkward conversations with my mam next time she did the laundry.  And I
liked the fact that I was pleasuring this lad's sweet little dick by
clenching my butt muscles around it and making him gasp.

So it was all pretty positive really.

"Were you thinking of your father?"  That's the sort of dumb-ass question
Philip would ask me.

No, not at all.  My main focus right then was to hold off from cumming, if
the truth be told.  I couldn't help but jerk myself it felt so good having
Hutchy's cock driving in and out me, but I kept having to make myself stop
for a short time every half minute or so, because I knew it wouldn't feel
anywhere near as good once I'd shot my muck over the damp brick wall in
front of me.

Except in the end, of course, I did spunk up.  I pushed myself too far,
stopped to edge myself back and then realised it was too late.  Wanked
myself again because I would have cum anyway and it feels really crap if
you just let your dick throb on its own until your spunk slowly starts to
dribble from the slit.  It's much better to keep wanking when that happens:
you might as well enjoy the moment and shoot off properly if you're going
to cum anyway.

Hutchy laughed when he heard me grunting and gasping.  "Oh yeah, go for it,
Kasey!  I knew you'd end up nuttin' off gettin' bummed!"

I kept panting, jizzing off against the wall, when all of a sudden a door
banged open behind us and then some bloke's voice shouted, "You mucky
little bastards!  Get the fuck out of my yard!  Jesus fucking Christ, I'll
tell your mams what the two of you dirty little shits have been doing."

"What's going on, Arthur?" a woman's voice behind him called out.

Hutchy pulled out of me and the two of us quickly pulled up our pants and
trousers.

"There's two lads out here doing sex stuff together in our yard.  It's an
abomination, that's what it is!"

"Sex stuff?  How can two lads do sex stuff, Arthur?"

We ran out of the gate and down the back alley.  All I heard was the fella
shouting, "How d'you think?  One lad taking it up his arse, you daft cow!"

We got to the gates of the park and Hutchy had to support himself against
me he was laughing so much.  I wasn't at all amused: the mention of our
mams getting told had really broken the mood for me.

"Oh, Jesus, Jase!" Hutchy struggled to say.  "I can't believe he saw us
bummin' in his backyard!  That is fuckin' well class, that is!  Pity I
can't tell the lads – they'd fuckin' love it!"

"Do you want me to finish you off?" I asked.  My mind, as ever, was on
matters of penis.  "I mean, you didn't spunk up.  D'you want us to go into
the park so I can wank you off behind a bush or something?"

Hutchy was still smiling from his amusement at being caught but his grin
broadened into something even more good-natured.

"You're fuckin' top shelf, you are, Kasey.  I can't believe you'd even ask
that.  We'll defo meet up again.  Like I said, time and place when we pass
each other in a corridor.  Never in PE, though, I can't risk that."

I smiled back at him.  "Yeah, but what about you spunking up?"

He shrugged.  "I'll jazz off tonight.  It'll give me something to look
forward to, won't it – my first nut-off up your arse.  Make sure I come
back for more."

It was like he was desperate to reassure me that there'd be more times
ahead of us.  I've wondered since if maybe he himself had been let down by
a guy.  Someone who'd used him for sex on the promise of more sessions
which ultimately hadn't come about.

Perhaps that's also why he was always so against having his arse fucked by
me.  Or maybe this is all conjecture and bollocks, just like the sort of
crap I've had to hear every week for the past two years.

We walked back up Eden Road and were chatting away like mates, when
suddenly his face turned nasty on me.  He could do that so easily: be
really nice and almost boyfriendish one minute, and then be an absolute
cunt the next.

"You know that if you tell anyone about any of this, I'll mess you up.  I'm
not joking with you, Jase, I'll fuckin' do stuff to you... and slowly so it
hurts."

"Hutchy, seriously... there's no need to say stuff like that... there's no
way I'd ever tell anyone anything about this."

Suddenly his hateful expression turned back into an amicable smile.  Like
Jekyll and Hyde.  "Of course you won't, mate.  I know that!  I'm just
havin' a laugh with you!"

But of course I knew he wasn't.

I realised he could be a bit of wacko but I didn't let that put me off.
And at the same time I should emphasize that it didn't make him any more
attractive either.  He had a lovely, sweet cock that felt amazing when it
was pummelling my bum and that was all I really focussed on about him.
That and his blond pubes: I'd really have to get my nose sniffing around
those if we continued these little get-togethers.

And we did.  We met up about once a month or so – I figured his gay side
must only occasionally manifest itself – and he almost always wanted to
fuck me with me bending over in front of him.  I did get to try a few
different things with him, including getting my face into his wonderfully
whiffy sandy-coloured bush, but he liked to see my butt-cheeks with his
cock sliding in and out so that usually limited what we got to do.

He had a thing about us getting caught: I figured that out after we'd had a
fella shouting at us the third time in a row.  He loved to have someone
walk in on us, with him going at another lad's arse doggy-style.  He seemed
amused by the shock our position would cause and by the abusive reaction
which would then follow.  It just seemed to really crack him up and I
wondered if maybe he thought about it afterwards when he tossed himself
off.

"Oh Jesus fucking Christ!  You dirty little bastards!" was the usual way
our occasional moments of intimacy were so frequently interrupted.  "I've
never seen anything so fucking disgusting!  Get the hell out of it or I'll
call the cops on you!"

One day when we walking back up town after a nice long screw behind the
bingo hall that we were for once not disturbed in the middle of, I asked
him about the other lads he'd done stuff with.

"I wouldn't tell anyone about you, Jase, so I won't tell you nothin' about
them.  You should know better than to ask."

"But if it's lads I could get together with... do for them what I do for
you?"

"What are you sayin', mate?" he said.

"That maybe if other guys knew what I'm like... then I might get a bit more
fun... other lads whispering to me in corridors... giving me times and
places like you do..."

He smiled.  "Jase, I think the whole fuckin' school knows what you're
like."

"And yet I don't ever get anything!" I said back in frustration.  "Everyone
might say I'm a total fag, but I never seem to get any cock action.
There's only you, Hutchy, and you're only up for it once a month at best."

He looked over at me.  "The trouble is with you, Jase, is you're way too
prissy.  You come over all high and mighty like you wouldn't do any bum
stuff or anythin' that might get spunk on your finery."

"Oh my God, is that true?" I asked.  "Do I really seem like that?"

"Yeah, you do, mate.  You're like totally fuckin' anal, only not in a good
way.  It was only when you sucked Bulmer off that I figured out that you'd
probably like havin' it up you.  You need to lighten up, Jase, show guys
you're not just a prissy little fagboy who won't do much that's fun 'cause
it's 'way too icky'."

"Do I really sound like that?" I asked.  "Is that really how guys see me?"

"Mate," Hutchy said, "there's a good few other lads out there like me who
like shaggin' and havin' a nice tight hole around their knobs however they
can get it."

That's how he saw himself: just a lad who liked sex and who sometimes got
horny enough to feel like using an arse instead of a fanny.  Funny way of
looking at things, but I sincerely hoped he was right and there were a lot
more like him.

"You need to branch about a bit, Jase," he went on.  "Show all the horny
fuckers like me that you're up for a bit of butt play without gayin' it up
too much which puts lads off."

"How do I do that?" I asked.

"I dunno... maybe show your arse off a bit more.  Stop wearin' those baggy
trousers that make it look like you're frightened of what you've got.  And
don't be frightened to talk dirty sometimes like other lads do about
wantin' a shag and how long it is since you nutted off.  Not too much –
like I say you don't wanna come over all mincin' Mary 'cause no-one likes
that – but make it more obvious that you've got some spunk in your
bollocks."

So that's what I did.

I got my mam to take my trousers in so that they showed my knob off at the
front and my nice squat arse looking all pert and juicy round the back.  I
bought some new pants from the market that were supposed to emphasize my
bits even more and I started trying to make it more obvious I was up for
stuff, sticking my cute, round butt out into the lad behind me in the
dinner queue and saying more rude stuff like Hutchy had said, only not too
full-on because I didn't want to sound like a screaming queen and, anyway,
coming from me it would have seemed a bit weird.

The sort of things I said were more like double meanings.  Saying stuff
that could sound innocent, like telling the whole class in a Spanish lesson
about how much I enjoyed rolling my r's and in Biology how I was well into
botany, especially in the park, but which other lads of the right type
would easily recognise as smutty.

"Weren't you worried that you making yourself a bit too obvious?" Philip
asked.  "I mean, you grew up in a very homophobic environment and you've
already said one young man – Pearcy wasn't it? – had singled you out
for abuse."

"I talked about that with Hutchy," I told him.

One night, on the way back from the allotments after he'd shot his seed up
my arse in some fella's unlocked shed, I asked him how likely it was that
I'd end up getting beaten up by his mates from the PE changing rooms.

It used to really get to me, having to listen to them all giving me verbal
over-and-over, week-in week-out.  A lot of the time I'd have notes from my
mam to get me out of sport altogether.

"They'll give you jip for being queer – you can't blame them for that –
but as long as you keep your distance and don't do anythin' to piss them
off, that's all they'll give you.  The number one rule with all lads,
Jason, is never try and flirt.  Let everyone know you'd be up for some fun
but wait for anyone who's interested come to you."

"Have they noticed you hanging around with me sometimes?" I asked,
wondering if they might have put two and two together about him.

He shrugged.  "If they have, they haven't said nowt about it."

"Would it bother you if they did?"

He stopped and turned to me with his face wary and distrustful.  "If they
ask you about what we get up to, Kasey, I've already told you what'll
happen if you breathe a word of it."

"I won't say anything.  You know that."

He nodded and lightened up again and we kept on walking.

"Even if they do know what we're up to," he went on, "I don't think they'd
say owt to me.  We've all knocked about with each other since we were kids.
They might have figured out that... you know... I've got a bit of a flaw,
but they know for sure I'm no fairy."

I'd never thought of Hutchy's enjoyment of bum sex as being a 'flaw'.  Same
with my fascination for cocks.  It was just something that was a part of me
like having blue eyes and brown hair.  Something I couldn't change so
didn't think much about.

"So did your peacock strutting work?" Philip asked and then, when I looked
at him funny, clarified: "I mean the flashing of your backside and making
smutty jokes."

"Oh yeah," I grinned.  "It worked a treat."

Within a couple of weeks I had an older lad from the sixth form catching me
up after school.  He was called David Hetherington and was a posh lad from
one the bigger houses on our estate, detached and with a fancy conservatory
on the back.  I knew he wasn't someone who'd want to beat the crap out of
me but at the same time I wouldn't have figured him to be the sort who'd
want another lad to play with his dick.

But as he walked alongside me, he proved me wrong.

"I just thought... you know... you might want to do some stuff tonight,
Kasey?" he asked me, glancing around to make sure he wasn't been watched.

"Yeah," I said, smiling.  We both knew what he meant.  "Where do you want
to do it?"

"Down at the bottom of our estate, where they're building the new houses.
There's a place where you can get through the railings easy enough."

His girlfriends would probably get treated to a nice night out, maybe a
meal and some flowers with a fancy bottle of wine waiting back at his place
in the fridge.  But his butt-boys... well, we got taken to the back of a
fucking building site.

Still, it was better than nowt.

"What time?" I asked.

"About half seven.  Hang around there if I'm late.  I've got a driving
lesson at six and sometimes it goes over the hour."

"Okay," I grinned.  Posh boy cock: it was nice to try a new flavour at
last.

"I don't think it would be helpful to write-up a journal entry of that
encounter," said Philip.  "I'm sure it's largely the same as what happened
with Gavin Hutchinson and there's no point in repeating the same stories
over and over."

"It was quite a bit different, actually," I told him.  "Posh boy David
turned out to have a... er... particular interest you wouldn't have
expected from a nice, well-brought-up lad like him."

Philip smiled and looked intrigued.  At length he nodded and said, "Okay,
Jason, you've got me.  Write it up in your journal and I'll have a look at
it before our next session."

He made a point of looking up at the clock behind me.  That's his way of
telling me I've had my hour now it's time for me to fuck off.

So that's where we'll start next time.  That rainy evening in the middle of
February, with freezing rain sheeting down from the black dark sky.  And
there was me, squeezing through a building site fence and so infatuated
with the thought of what David Hetherington's cock might look like that I
hadn't even thought to put on a raincoat.

~~~~~~

I'd love to get some feedback about my 'Cock Worshipper' journal if you're
enjoying reading it, even if you just take the time to say 'hi' as a fellow
fanatic.  Or why not follow my blog to find out when my next journal entry
is due.

jason.kason@manlymail.net
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