Date: Sun, 11 Jul 1999 11:16:52 +0900
From: Andrej Koymasky <andrejkoymasky@geocities.com>
Subject: Snot-boy-01

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SNOT BOY
by Andrej Koymasky (C) 1999
written on May 1st 1990
translated by the author
English text kindly revised by
J.O. Dickingson (authorsix@hotmail.com)

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USUAL DISCLAIMER

"SNOT BOY" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of
sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so
on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story.
But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think
you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.

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Chapter 1 - The Blade

The wood that runs alongside the Jambville Castle Estate was scattered
with poor homes. They were not real houses, but neither were they simple
huts. The buildings rose disorderly, partially done with crooked walls
of stones without mortar, partially with wooden boards, and with roofs
thatched with straw or made of bark. In most, smoke rose through a
simple hole in the roof, but some few even possessed a chimney pot. In
these dwellings lived a collection of wretched and ragged people, not
peasants of the Count, for they lived in places worthy of being called
houses even if poor, neither the Castle servants, who wore spotless
liveries, but rather people that managed to live carrying out the most
humble and unpleasant tasks needed for the castle inhabitants, like
bringing away the dung from the stables, cleaning the rivers of dead
branches or of wild animal corpses, and any other tasks that were below
the station of the Count's servants.

These people, apart from the food they received from the castle servants
in exchange for their occasional services, and from clothes so worn that
it was rather difficult to call them clothes and that were kept together
more by dirt and improvised strings than by tailor art, managed to eke a
living also by picking herbs and any other edibles provided by nature,
as well as by small thefts, rarely of anything too big a value to be
noticed: buckets with the bottoms bursting out, broken tools and parts
of what ended in the castle dustbin that they had to periodically empty.

Another common characteristic of these people was that nobody had a real
name, or if they ever had, it was one that was long ago buried in the
memory and forgotten. They called each other by nicknames and fake names
often cruel and vulgar: Crosseye, Stinky, Fuckass, Swipy, Poison,
Fattie, Gossipy, Plucky, Shitty, Nobottom and other names even less
refined.

When the castle lords or their guests were passing on the road that,
cutting through the wood, arrived at the castle, these beings hid in the
branches and the bushes. Nobody knows if it was because they were
ashamed to show their abjection, or because they were afraid to arouse
the powerful mockery that was sure to follow their discovery. From their
hideaways they spied on the rumbling passages of the coaches, or the
dusty drumming of the horses' hooves, or the proceeding of the rare
passerby on foot accompanied by his servants.

This invisible, at least for the castle lords, wood population, over
time was enriched by some new element: a few newborns that, however,
seldom survived to an adult age, or some fleeing soul looking for a
refuge in that anonymous society. There, at least, nobody asked
questions. There nobody was curious.

Here, in the year of Our Lord 1773, in an unspecified month of Spring,
on a day like all other days, to a certain Tawny and from an unknown
father, a baby was born. In the first years he didn't even have a name.
When, weaned and able to walk, he started to bother the other wood
inhabitants, they started to call him with various epithets and of
those, that of Snot-boy stuck to him. Contrary to the biggest part of
the newborn babes of that place, he grew up healthy and strong, full of
liveliness and curiosity. This last earned him slaps and kicks, and,
when older, even some strokes from a willow branch, but he never lost
his curiosity.

When the boy was nine years old, Tawny left him an orphan. If until then
he had had from his mother some kind of vague protection and guidance,
now Snot-boy was abandoned to himself. But exactly then the Blade
arrived, a newcomer with a hard aspect about him. He buried the woman,
appropriated what had been Tawny's shelter, and with it, all that was
there contained, including Snot-boy.

The Blade was different from the others, as often were the newcomers.
His clothes were less shapeless and worn out, and they still conserved a
trace of their original colors. His manners were less coarse. However,
his countenance was enough to command respect, and at times, even to
strike fear in the heart of others. Moreover, the Blade was still a
strong and sound man, around thirty years old, and his body wasn't
emaciated and weak like almost all the wood people. Finally, and above
all, The Blade always carried with him a very beautiful shining dagger,
that which gave him his new name. Snot-boy was soon fascinated by him.

It was not long before Snot-boy started to pester him with thousands of
questions and thousands of whys. The Blade, if he was in a good mood,
which was very seldom, answered him. The little boy, if he didn't
receive an answer, didn't persist and took an interest in other matters.
However, if once in ten the answer did come, Snot-boy didn't lose a
single word and listened with never sated eagerness. Then, when alone,
he recalled and turned over in his mind what he had heard from the man.

Snot-boy was now a boy in full development, with a body not particularly
strong but neither frail. He was very fast in running, and very skilled
in climbing or in hiding. He seldom approached the castle or it's
immediate surroundings, but he did enter the estate sometimes, when
called with gestures by a servant or another asking him to perform some
small task. The boy felt an attraction to and a curiosity about the
great building as well as the people living in it, but an unconscious
fear prevented him from approaching too close. To him, the servants in
their elegant liveries seemed lords, and the real castle lords seemed
unreachable as dreams. (He would have thought "like gods" if he knew the
meaning of such, but nobody never talked about God among his people).

Once, sneaking through the bushes of the estate and arriving at the edge
of the garden at the back of the castle, he succeeded in seeing a little
boy. He was a little older than himself, and a bit taller, yet Snot
immediately felt, in a confused and vague way, that an abyss separated
them. The other was splendor personified. Whereas Snot-boy's clothes
were shapeless and of the color of soil, the other's were perfect and of
gay colors; whereas he was covered in crusts and unkept, so the other
was clean and tidy; and, whereas his hair was tangled and dark and stuck
to his head because he never washed it, so the other's hair was soft and
luminous and beautiful....

It was exactly this enormous difference, this abyss, that awoke in Snot
the urgent desire to go back to admire the other as often possible. From
that day on, therefore, he started to sneak more and more often into the
estate, in the hope of being able to see again the one that he now
called, for himself, "The Other".

The Blade noticed the more frequent absences of the little boy and one
day asked him the reason. He was not really interested in Snot's doings,
but he suspected that the boy might have found some small work from the
castle servants, and that he wasn't sharing with him the reward.

To the man's question Snot didn't know what to say, because he would not
share with anybody his secret. So he answered with a vague, "I stroll
and wander, here and there...." This vague answer made the Blade even
more suspicious so that he openly accused the boy of keeping all for
himself the food he received from the castle servants for tasks they had
given him. Snot denied this was so, but whilst denying, his eyes
sparkled, amused by the idea that the man was so far from the true
reason, and that his secret was safe. However, the Blade interpreted the
light in the boy's eyes as the final confirmation that his suspicions
were right.

He grasped the boy by his rags and started to shake him and to insult
and threaten him. Snot let the man do so undaunted, his eyes always
lightened by a faint glimmer of mischief and amusement. He let the man
have his way both because he was conscious he didn't have the physical
strength to oppose the Blade, and because all things considered, he was
accustomed to the angry outbursts of the man and he knew that they never
were too long or dangerous, if you didn't check them.

Suddenly, however, the boy read in the man's eyes something new, a light
he had never seen before, not evil, not good, but burning. Those dark
eyes seemed like they were letting leak out little by little, like a
hidden fire, a secret force. The little boy looked in amazement,
curiosity, and fascination at those eyes and barely noticed that the man
was ceasing to shake him but was clutching him more tightly than before.

Then, suddenly, the Blade dropped him and roughly pushed him far away,
but while he was pushing him away, his eyes seemed rather wanting to
possess him, two black whirlpools waiting to sweep up their booty. Snot
felt rather frightened. Now the smile that normally fluttered on his
boyish face faded, and a kind of strange bewilderment seized him. His
rather wild life had gotten him used, right from childhood, to recognize
the meaning of the different ways people had of looking. From that skill
came, for instance, the ability to flee a moment before a burst of rage
or an attempt to strike him. He was able to recognize in the other eyes
hate, hunger, boredom, anger, mockery, amusement, rage.... He could read
in the other eyes interest, pity, greed, liking....

Now he was dumbfounded: he had never seen a way of looking like he saw
that moment. He backed away from the Blade two or three steps,
continuing to look in his eyes as if hypnotized. Also the man, even
though he had sent the boy away from himself, continued to look
straight, and in silence, into the boy's eyes. Now Snot read in those
eyes something he recognized: uncertainty, hesitation, and then the
reflex of a struggle between two different imperatives.... Then finally
there was a lightning. Now his eyes were once again sure, hard, and
ablaze with that strange unknown fire.

Without moving The Blade, always looking straight in his eyes, ordered,
"Take off yer rags!"

Snot didn't of course expect such an order, but, even though astounded,
he felt he could not disobey. The force of that look was enormous and
bound his will to that of the man. So, slowly, he removed from his body
the few rags that barely covered it.

"Down, on my bed. Face downward."

Again Snot obeyed, and, for the first time in those eternal minutes,
their eyes separated. Then The Blade approached and Snot instinctively
felt, or better, feared, that some menace, something terrible, was
threatening him. The man sat near the boy on the straw mattress and one
of his rough hands lay on Snot's buttocks, remained still for a while,
then in the unreal silence that had befallen the room, started to caress
them, at first slowly and lightly, then with more strength, rather than
with roughness. Now both hands of the man were groping the small
buttocks, were fingering them, and Snot felt that all that was happening
was weird. He didn't understand. In the short span of his life nothing
similar had ever happened.

He heard the Blade's breath becoming heavier, more excited, then, for a
moment, those hands left him. The little boy turned his head and looked
toward the man as he tried to understand what was happening. The man had
risen up and was untying his breeches. As he lowered them, Snot saw that
between his legs there was a thatch of dark hair from whence a fleshy
pole was jutting out, straight and quivering. The small boy couldn't
understand what was happening. He looked again in the man's eyes. They
were ablaze like two burning brands, seeming to burn with fever. They
emanated force, determination, and power, and, from the true bottom,
joy. A wild joy....

Stepping on each side of the little boy, the man knelt, took again his
buttocks in his hands, and opening them wide, leaned his face almost
until it brushed against them and spat, straight and with force. Snot
felt the spit hit his little hole. He didn't really understand, all was
so weird, so unexpected, so absurd.... What the hell was happening, and
why?

Whatever it was, the little boy felt it was something that had to
happen, something unavoidable, so he waited. He felt something hard
pushing on his anus and at once he realized that it was the man's pole
and understood that The Blade wanted to insert it inside him. He didn't
know, and couldn't understand, the reason for that, but if The Blade had
decided that was what he wanted, the boy thought he for sure must have
good reasons. The Blade never did things without good reason.

The man's hands continued to keep wide open the little boy buttocks and
the pole pushed with growing strength and determination, now charged
with all the weight of the man's body. Snot felt a sharp pain, then a
dull pain, and by instinct he contracted his muscles. The Blade pushed
with greater force. The boy relaxed just a short moment to catch his
breath and felt he was being penetrated, invaded, split open....

The Blade gave a strong push with his loins and sunk in him a little bit
more. Snot moaned, shut his eyes, and bit his lip, but he didn't try to
escape that pain. He knew that he could never be able to oppose The
Blade. He just continued to ask himself the meaning of what was
happening to him. Was this a way to punish him? Well, if so, he had just
to wait for the end of this unusual punishment. So he relaxed, resigned
to the inevitable.

That big pole of flesh between his buttocks, inside his small hole, once
more slid further inside. Snot perceived that the less he tried to
resist that invasion, the less he felt pain. Therefore he relaxed
completely and the man fully sunk inside him. Two steel hands grasped
him by the shoulders, and then the man, planting his knees and arms on
the mattress, started to move his pelvis up and down. That continuous
rubbing and pushing, that hard going and coming inside him, bothered
Snot, but he didn't move. He realized that The Blade's breath was
changing, becoming difficult, almost hoarse. It was as if the man was
suffering! In a short while, in fact, the man started to groan, to shake
convulsively, then stiffening and becoming hard as seasoned wood, he
quivered and vibrated. Accompanying a violent tremble, a choked yell
came from The Blade's throat and at last the man went limp on him,
falling inertly upon his small body.

At first the little boy thought that the man was dead and felt a sense
of bewilderment, and of panic. But then he felt the warm breath of the
man on the nape of his neck, and felt his hands moving. Finally, after a
few moments, The Blade unsheathed from inside him, exhaled a deep sigh,
and stretched out at his side. Snot looked The Blade in his eyes,
frightened but curious. Now he was able to read those eyes very well. It
was exactly the look that all the wood people had those rare times when
they succeeded in stuffing themselves with food. In The Blade's eyes he
saw that same sated, happy, satisfied air....

So, with an uncertain voice, he asked, "You feel ok, Blade?"

The man softly sniggered and answered, "'Course. Very well."

The boy turned on his side. "What happened?"

"I fucked you."

"Fucked? In what sense?"

"Literally. I've put it in yer ass."

"'Course, but why?"

"I felt like it."

"But why?"

"T' enjoy."

"You enjoyed? I felt pain."

"You'll get used t' it."

"So you'll put it again into me?"

"'Course. I'm an idiot I didn't think of doing it before!"

"But you liked it? I felt pain." Snot repeated. This wasn't a complaint,
or a protest, but simply a statement.

The Blade tied his breeches up. He met again the boy's eyes and said,
"When a man has a hard-on, he has to give vent, to push it in a hole.
When you grow older, you'll understand. To fuck is one of the best
things there can be, for a man."

This was one of the longest conversations the man ever had with the boy.
Snot didn't really understand, but he nodded. If The Blade said it, then
it must be that way. Snot had no doubts on that.

Snot learned to recognize that special light in the eyes of The Blade,
and when he spotted that, he just undressed and lay at once on the straw
mattress of the man and let him hammer at his little ass until the man
reached his orgasm, deeply embedded in him.

Snot learned to recognize that way of looking also in the eyes of other
people, and understood that what The Blade was doing with him, others
were doing the same between themselves when they withdrew with that look
in their faces to come back awhile later with a sated look... Even if he
didn't talk about that with anybody, he understood that often it
happened between men and women, but also between two men or two women,
but he was never curious enough to see how the others did it. He,
anyway, already knew that very well.

It was rare that the Blade had to ask him. He was able to understand
straightaway. And, as the months passed, he noticed that the pain was
little by little vanishing. Little Snot didn't yet feel pleasure, for
his body was not yet awakened to his sexuality, yet he allowed the man
to penetrate him without any hesitation. Rather, he realized that by
acting in a certain way he could light desire in The Blade's eyes, and
that by moving in a certain way under the man's assaults, he was able to
increase or lessen the man's pleasure, to lengthen or shorten his
orgasms. He realized that he was developing a certain power over the
man, and he was pleased by that. So, by instinct, he learned to please
him better and better. To him, this had become a kind of game....

Then something changed when, while The Blade was mounting him one day,
between the boy's legs a turgidness arose and Snot, for the first time,
felt also a vague sensation of pleasure that culminated in a dry orgasm.
The pleasure grew still greater some time later when from his little
pole, which was still small but had started to grow, the first drops of
a whitish liquid very similar to what The Blade left between his
buttocks when he fucked him started to come out.

Snot thought that possibly he would love to have somebody to fuck,
besides being fucked. However, he didn't know how to go about finding
someone, being that he was the youngest one in that community of wood
people, and confusedly understanding that he couldn't ask an adult, and
even less than that, ask The Blade to let him try.

When the man realized that the boy had started to mature and that he was
now able to emit his first seed drops, he one time said him, "When I
mount you, beat it."

"Beat it? What do I have t' beat? What do you mean?"

"This way," the man simply said, and started to masturbate in front of
the attentive eyes of the boy. Snot followed suit. The man smiled, and,
making him lean forward, took him from the back and started to fuck him,
this time standing up. The boy continued to masturbate and noticed that
now the hot pole inside him, especially when rubbed against a certain
spot, was giving him a strong, intense pleasure....

So, he discovered a new step in the reaching of pleasure. Soon he didn't
limit himself to masturbating when The Blade was fucking him, but began
doing it himself when he was alone. With one hand he masturbated while
he inserted two fingers of the other hand into his own back hole, and so
he discovered he was able to give himself pleasure at will, even if
alone. When he made that discovery, Snot was about thirteen....

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CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 2

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In my home page I've put some of my stories. If someone wants to read
them, the URL is

http://www.geocities.com/~andrejkoymasky/

If you want to send me feed-back, please e-mail at

andrejkoymasky@geocities.com

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