Date: Thu, 5 May 2011 09:37:46 -0700 (PDT)
From: Baz Snider <actorbaz@yahoo.com>
Subject: Nasty Old Man

It was a warm sunny day as I drove up the long hill north of the village of
_----- in my pickup.  I was remembering one of the days in northern India,
driving my Pinzgauer 4 wheel drive up the mountain toward Darjeeling with
Carter, my buddy and sometime lover.  But that was a long time ago, Carter
was still alive then and I was still young and hot - tall, strong and, I
thought, invincible.  Now I'm 66 years old, running to fat and with
arthritic knees and scars all over my body from a life lived on the edge.
My cock, which once would slap against my thigh when I showered, now peered
shyly from its nest of thin graying pubic hair.  It was still impressive
when hard, about 8-1/2 inches and heavily veined, but who would see that now?
My six pack abs were now invisible beneath a layer of sagging flesh, my
once hard pecs were now man-tits. Even my balls sag now, hanging loosely
beneath my pathetic old man's cock.  I thought of how I pitied older men
when I was young - how could they live without sex, adrenaline and heavy
drinking in tropical dives surrounded by exotic women and the smell of
spices and cunt juice to keep them going?  Age sucks, I thought.  I'm
living on memories, jacking off alone in my dark bedroom, fantasizing about
men and women I had known but didn't value enough at the time.  But at
least I'm still alive, and I'm the only one left.  That alone was something
to celebrate.

When I rounded one of the many bends in the road I came up behind a group
of cyclists also climbing the hill.  There were five of them, four guys and
a woman, all but one of whom I judged to be in their early 20's.  The fifth
looked to be about 14 with his smooth hairless legs and skinny butt, and I
thought it was odd that he would be cycling with these older kids.
Probably a kid brother, I thought.

All of them were in good shape, and I slowed down to drive behind them -
the road was too narrow to risk passing them at that point.  I watched with
fascination as their beautiful butt cheeks moved independently, rising and
falling, clenching and releasing with each stroke.  I fantasized about
stripping their tight bike shorts off and watching them ride naked when I
noticed that the youngest one was wearing spandex shorts without padding.
Like the others, his hard butt was flexing mightily as he pushed to get up
the steep hill and I noticed that his butt had a line of perspiration
outlining his crack and his shorts puckered a bit with each down stroke.
Because of his age I quickly directed my attention to the woman, who was
just as hot as the others, but with long hair under her helmet and a very
slim waist.  "She's the hottest of the bunch," I thought. My cock twitched
at the thought of her naked and that beautiful black hair flowing softly
across my pillow.  "Oh well," I thought.  That was another time, and she's
with men ten times as hot as I am now.  "Wish I knew her about 40 years
ago."

The road at this point was very narrow and I knew I wouldn't be able to
pass until they had reached the top, so I pulled over into a parking spot
overlooking the river and got out to take a piss.  The road was almost
always deserted, so there was no risk of embarrassing any other drivers.  I
waited about five minutes and got back into the truck to continue up the
hill.  As I rounded the last curve before the summit I had to brake hard.
Right in front of me two bicycles lay in the road with one of the guys and
the kid sitting on the guardrail.  The kid was holding his knee and
appeared to be in pain.  His brother, or buddy, or whatever, was holding
him by the shoulder and looked to be comforting him.  I skidded to a stop,
and the two of them looked in my direction.  I was right, the kid was hurt
and his leg below his knee had a lot of blood on it.  I got out of the car
and ran quickly to them, noticing one of the bicycles had a badly bent
front wheel and was obviously a total wreck.  "What happened," I asked as I
approached them.  "Are you alright?

"Tom's bike hit a pothole and he fell," the older guy said.  "He's cut his
knee badly."

I ran back to the truck and got my first aid kit from behind the driver's
seat, approaching them again saying, "Let's have a look."  I set the kit
down and knelt in front of the kid asking him if it was OK If I touched his
knee.

"If you can help, go to it," said the older of the two.

"I have to ask," I said, "It's the law."

"Are you a doctor?"  asked the kid.

"No, but I have a lot of experience with wounds and such," I answered.

"OK," he said, "but be careful - it hurts a lot."  His voice was deep and
rich, with a confident tone that made him sound much older than I thought.
Surprised, I looked up at him.  I noticed that he had no eyebrows or
eyelashes, and that his face was as smooth as a baby's.  He had obviously
never shaved in his life, which made me think he was even younger than 14,
but his voice was much older.

I gently moved his hand away from his knee to look at the cut.  They were
right, the cut was deep and about 4" long running across the patella tendon
just above the knee cap.  It was bleeding freely, which was good, as that
would lower the risk of infection.  I softly pulled the cut open and saw
the cut went down into the tendon and possibly further.  He wouldn't be
able to walk for a while, I thought. "This is going to need stitches," I
said.  "Let me get the bleeding stopped and I'll run you back down the hill
to the hospital in -----."  I began cleaning the cut with gauze pads and
antiseptic.  I planned to use about six butterfly strips to hold it closed,
and cover it with gauze.  As I did so, I noticed that he wasn't wearing a
jock and was getting a hardon.  His tight shorts held his cock against his
leg, and the spandex was so thin that I could even see the veins bulging
along the shaft.  It was a big cock, and in the back of my mind I thought
it must be at least 8" long when fully erect.  He noticed I was looking and
moved his hand to cover himself, but of course his hand was not big enough.

"Don't worry about that," I said.  "It happens sometimes when a guy is
hurt.  "Something to do with adrenaline I think, or relief that you're
still alive."

As I began applying the butterfly stitches, he relaxed a bit and moved his
hand away.  "I'm not worried," he said.  "Just a little embarrassed."

"Don't be," I said.  "I've seen plenty before and it doesn't bother me.
And you've got nothing to be embarrassed about.  That log is bigger than
mine, and I'm no pussy."

Of course it bothered me a lot - I was on me knees in front of a young kid
with a magnificent raging hardon, and I found I was a little turned on.  My
own dick was twitching, and I tried to concentrate on patching him up with
my now-trembling hands.  I had always been disgusted by men who preyed on
young boys, especially those brutal cock suckers who raped and mutilated
boys and girls in African villages and Arab cities where I had worked.  I
found it hard to fight alongside them, knowing they were obsessed with
young flesh and the power their weapons gave them over the unarmed civilian
population.  I had even cut short the lives of a few of them when I was
unlucky enough to catch them in the act.  Now here I was, unable to stop
staring at the boy's cock, with a small drop of wetness at the tip and
throbbing uncontrollably with each movement of the kid's leg.

I finished up, and stood, turning my back on the two to hide my own growing
erection.  Of course the kid noticed, and he said "I see what you mean.
That is a big cock."  My embarrassment was humiliating as I turned toward
the truck to make room for the kid in the front seat.

The older guy said, "Wow, that is a great cock you've got.  Who would have
guessed?"

Confused, I started moving some of the junk on the passenger seat to the
storage area behind the seats.  I barely heard the kid say, "I think I cut
my butt, too.  It hurts a lot and I think it's bleeding.  Could you check,
Phil?"

"Oh, wow, it's even bigger than the one on your knee," he said, and I
turned back with the kit to have a look.  I knelt behind the kid and saw
that his shorts had a six inch rip over the right butt cheek and a nasty
laceration on the smooth white skin.  Again I knelt down, and pulled the
back of his shots down to get a better look.  Now my fantasy about watching
them cycle naked returned as I examined the damage to that perfect bubble
butt.  His gluteus muscle was well defined, with a dimple right at the base
of his spine.  My breathing became shallow and quick, and again I was
disgusted with myself.

As I started cleaning the cut, my hand lightly grazed the inside of his
butt crack, and he trembled slightly.  "Sorry," I said, "I know it hurts,
but there's a bit of glass in the cut.  That'll have to be taken out under
anaesthetic at the hospital.  It's too close to nerves and blood vessels
for me to try it here."

"No," said the kid.  "It's not that.  It just felt great when you touched
my asshole.  That's not helping my boner any."

"Can I see," asked his buddy as he knelt down beside me.  He reached out
with his hand and firmly rubbed two fingers on the kid's pink puckered
asshole.  The kid trembled again, and this time he moaned slightly.  I was
shocked and angered by this 20 something touching a young teen's asshole
and pulled his hand away.

"Look," I said.  "Leave the kid alone.  I'll not have you molesting this
kid.  Step back before I knock you back."

"You're one to talk, he said, pointing at my crotch.  "You're as turned on
as he is."

I realized it was true, but I had no intention of doing anything about it.
I'd probably jack off later, but I would be careful to think about the
woman who had been with them instead of this innocent kid.  I quickly
covered the cut with gauze and started to tape it down when the kid
trembled more and moaned louder through clenched teeth.  Then he relaxed
and gave a huge sigh.  When I stood up and went around him to go to the
truck I realized that he had cum in his shorts. There was a surprising
amount of cum, showing as a dark patch on his shorts with drops of cum
squeezing through the fabric and dripping on the gravel beneath him.  I
handed him some gauze and said "Here.  Clean yourself up and I'll get you
to the hospital.  You don't want them seeing that.  They'll think we've
been messing around with you and we'll both have to explain what happened -
and hope they believe us.  Give me your phone number and I'll call your
folks to meet us there."

"My folks?  Why?"

"The hospital won't treat you without parental consent.  They'll have to
sign consent forms and then take you home."

"Oh," said the kid.  "You don't have to worry about that - I'm 24."

"Twenty four?  Come on.  You don't look any older than 14."

"I know," he said.  It's always been a problem for me.  It's because I have
no beard or body hair."

"Alopecia?  That explains a lot.  Must be very difficult for you."  I was
relieved to learn that I wasn't in fact turned on by a kid, but by a mature
adult who happened to look like a kid.  That explained the size of his cock
and the amount of cum he had shot.

"It used to be, but my MBA and law degree usually get respect.  I'm a
lawyer with ------------,------ and ------ down in the City."

"No hair anywhere?"  I asked.

"Nope.  You can imagine how I attract perverts and pedophiles.  I do have
to watch how I behave, and make sure I only get naked in front of guys who
know me.  Some of them are still turned off, but I have a lot of friends
I've known for years, and I'm comfortable with them.  I'm relieved to know
that you're at least ashamed to have been turned on by what you thought was
a kid."

"Me, too" I thought as I picked him up in my arms and carried him to the
truck.  I carefully set him down in the passenger seat and told the older
guy to put the bikes in the back and squeeze in between me and the kid.  I
turned the truck around and started down the hill.

 As we passed my house near the bottom, the older guy said, "That's where
you live, isn't it?"

"How did you know?"  I asked.

"We see you on the porch every morning reading and drinking coffee.  We
always comment on how hot you look in your silk robe and your legs crossed.
We can see your balls hanging beneath your legs."

"I'll have to remember that," I thought.  I hadn't realized that my robe
didn't cover me.  How embarrassing.