Message-ID: <022454Z03061995@anon.penet.fi>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an151170@anon.penet.fi (Skryton)
X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories
Organization: Anonymous forwarding service
Reply-To: an151170@anon.penet.fi
Date: Sat,  3 Jun 1995 02:21:02 UTC
Subject: Shorts by Nick Tails (m+)
Lines: 313


.                          Shorts '90
.  A collection of story shorts, 1990 edition.  By Nick Tails
 
 
.    I want to jack off.  I want to masturbate and spray my juice
from the end of my cock all over the room and enjoy those
wonderful feelings that boys have when they play with their
pricks.  Can you imagine how many of the boys that live in my
neighborhood stay home at night and play with their penises and
play with the penises of their brothers.  Thirteen and fourteen
and possibly twelve year olds gently rubbing their cocks, lying
in bed at night, staring at the ceiling while their hands rub
under the sheets.   And how many do you suppose listen to their
brothers, their little brothers and their big brothers, and
listen to the sounds of their breathing and wonder if they are
joining them.
.    Did you ever stop to think how one of these events might
occur.  If perhaps, on a cold and snowy night like tonight, when
the house is cold and the parents are out, and a boy of a young
age just now reaching the time of his life to discover those
parts of his body that have been, up until this very moment,
relatively useless.  Can you imagine this boy, beneath his covers
deep in the night, and can you imagine an older brother, near in
another bed, hearing this boy cry out in the night.  The older
crosses the floor, wearing pajamas that fail to cover his feet,
and his feet tense walking across the cold, wooden floor.   And
you can see him find his younger sibling and climb into the bed,
and hold him tight, and look in his eyes and see that he is
afraid.  And you can imagine that the young boy is afraid because
he does not know what to do, that his body is acting on its own
and he is relentless and cannot talk about it.
.    But his brother knows.  And can you imagine that his older
brother holds him, tells him that it is fine, that all is well,
and that even, quite possibly, the older can teach his younger
sibling a few tricks of the trade.  And he does not want to at
first, the younger that is, to remove his clothes because of the
cold.  But the older says that he will be warm.  That he will
keep him warm.  That he will make sure his younger will not be
cold.
.    Can you imagine the two of them together, their bodies
pressed as they hold each other, that the younger wants to kiss
his brother and be with him.  Can you imagine that as long as
they are together, they will not be cold, not be alone, not be
afraid.   And as the older rids himself of the distraction of his
night clothes, and his sexual organs begin to rise as they have
for a longer period of time than have his brothers, and his
younger brother sees this and smiles.
.    Can you feel his feelings.  Can you feel him wanting his
brother's sexual attention, his desire that he does not
understand.  He reaches for his brother and grips him, his own
responding as he nurses from his brother, the older.  Can you
picture the younger boy, stretching with his tongue over his
brother's young boyhood.  Can you hear the older one moan, to say
that he likes this attention, and for it to continue.   The
little boy is learning, learning how to please his older brother,
and the older boy reaches his orgasm of intense proportions and
puts forth his life giving juices to his younger, to the boy who
gladly accepts this feeding.
 
     
.    The cold wind howls and the snow blows as the young boy
walks through the house.  You can feel the noise and see the
damage as the young boy tours a house without help from parents,
without help from siblings he does not have.  A television, a set
that he did not realize was on, glows and emanates from another
room.  The set projects a blue hue, the sole light source in the
entire house.
.    The young one witnesses the picture, two males engaging in
heavy sexual activity as the young boy feels the rising in his
loins.  He sits on the bare floor, the empty room with a
television set watching the sex before him.  He has a temptation,
a rising, a feeling to help himself out of this predicament that
he has gotten himself into.  He brings out his penis into the
air, the cold air of the room hitting his warm body and sending a
shock through his privates as his eyes, glazed from the night,
watch the scene.  He begins to rub, not for any reason he knows
of, but for one of excitement that he will name later.
.    He watches this pornographic showing and tantalizes himself,
rubbing from the tip of his prick to the base of his balls,
pulling the skin from one end of the other and feeling the sperm
crawl through his veins, waiting, wanting.  He does not know why
this excites him but this is something that he will not stop,
that he wants, that he desires.  He cries, an echo through the
house, not a cry of tear but a cry of intensity as in the room,
the cold room, his rich semen comes from him and lands before
him, and you can visibly see the steam rise from the floor where
it has landed.


after the football game and walks into the locker room.  He
stares at the other players, a hard game, and sees his favorite,
a young boy his age, after all this is only junior high football. 
A young boy in a young grade and he asks his favorite if perhaps,
if given the chance, if he might like to visit him at his home,
and perhaps the favorite accepts and they
.    end up at his house and conversation lapses from one point
to another.  The boy walks to his favorite and gently puts his
hand on the other's shoulder and they talk and they sit and he
looks at his favorite and the favorite looks back and does not
move away from his eyes.  Something has changed in the last few
minutes and when the boy starts moving in toward his favorite and
closes his eyes and opens his mouth, the favorite does not react,
or rather react badly.  He returns it.  He does not understand.
.    and the boys decide to lie down and start taking off each
other's clothes and the boy wants it and the favorite does not
understand.
.    gently pulling each other and tugging and kissing as the boy
goes down on the favorite, swallowing his organs and licking and
nibbling and sucking and the favorite responds.  He begins to
like it.  He begins to enjoy it.  He understands.
.    soon, just a little more, the two boys, muscular and
handsome from football and soft and beautiful from their age, a
sight that no one should see but everyone wants to.  The favorite
starts gasping and his spurt is spurted and his yell is yelled
and the boy drinks it and enjoys it and feels closer to his
favorite, and the favorite loves the boy


.    He's heartbroken.  He's alone, sitting in front of his
machine, thinking about him.  The him in question is a man, a man
whom he loves, but a man he cannot have.  He cries for a while,
perhaps.  Perhaps he just sits and thinks.  Mere masturbation can
not take care of this, this goes far beyond instant
gratification.  This is in the realm of love, quite possibly.


.    Aerck had told him.  The conversation was long and drawn
out, and what started out with a simple hello in the school
cafeteria had led into a plan.
.    "You were tied up?"
.    "Sure."
.    "What did the guy do?" Billy asked him.  They didn't notice
lunch was over and everyone was leaving.
.    "Well, he was like, I don't know.  He started touching me."
.    "Did you like it?"
.    "Not really.  Not then."
.    "Do you like it now?"
.    Aerck didn't say anything until everyone left.  The classes
had started.  They didn't care.  "Most times I don't, but
sometimes...  I think about, you know?  It's weird."
.    "What did he do?"
.    "He licked me, kind of."
.    "He licked you?"  Billy was in a mixture of disgust and awe.
.    "Not really lick.  It was like..."  Aerck threw down his
milk carton in anger and tears.  "Shit... I can't remember." 
Billy put his arm around his friend.
.    "Do you want to show me?" Billy asked him.  Aerck didn't say
anything, but just watched the milk slowly drain onto the table
from the upset carton.
.    "If you come over, we can do it," Aerck said.  Then he
looked at Billy.
.    Billy went over to Aerck's house after school.  He walked
the back way, avoiding the street where he knew all the older
high school kids would be.  He didn't like the kids from the high
school.  They scared him.  He didn't know why.
.    Aerck was alone when Billy walked into the house.
.    "So...what do you we do?" Billy asked.  Aerck didn't say
anything for a while, then led Billy to his bedroom.  It was
warm, the heat from the day had been building up in the room
while Aerck was away at school and greeted him when he walked
through the door.  Aerck was scared like Billy.  Only Aerck knew
why he was scared.  He was scared he would do more than his
friend wanted him to do.
.    Aerck was almost crying when he sat down.  Billy had never
seen him like this and it worried him.  Billy sat next to him and
put his arm around him like he had done earlier and held Aerck's
body against his.  Aerck leaned and lied back on the bed, pulling
Billy with him.  Then Aerck turned over and faced him.
.    "I'm sorry I brought you here," Aerck said.
.    "Why?"
.    "I can't do this."
.    "You're scared?" Billy stated more than asked.  Aerck
paused.
.    "You can tell?"  Billy nodded, then had an impulse he hadn't
had before.  He wanted to kiss his friend, and he didn't know
why.  He started to move closer to Aerck but stopped.  He looked
at Aerck, his forehead slightly wrinkled and his eyes trembling
from slight fear and suddenly, a slight chill.
.    At first Billy hadn't realized he had done it.  It took a
moment, a long pause for reality to set in.
.    "Thank you for going first," Aerck told Billy when the kiss
was over.  Billy blushed, but looked back at his friend.  And he
kissed him again, this time not quite so short.  This time, a
little deeper.  As they kept each other's tongue warm, Aerck ran
his hands along Billy's body.  They would later call this
"feeling each other up", but for now it was just something that
seemed like a good idea.
.    "I'm sorry I bought you here," Aerck repeated.
.    "Don't be."  Billy watched Aerck's face.  "Don't ever be
sorry about something you want."
.    Aerck looked at the floor while Billy studied him.  He
didn't look up.  "Do you want to have sex?" Aerck asked his
friend.
.    "No." Billy told him.  Aerck looked up and saw Billy's face
and saw what he was feeling.  "I want to make love."
.    "It's the same thing, Billy."
.    "No it's not."  Aerck stopped and watched Billy for a
moment.  In one brief flash Aerck realized that this was not
something that had been suddenly brought on by their conversation
earlier.  This was something that Billy had been feeling for
quite a long time.  Billy talked as if every line had been
rehearsed, and he seemed so sure of what he was saying.  This was
something Aerck was not.
.    Aerck shut his eyes and fought the urge to cry.  Billy
grabbed him and held him tightly, closing his eyes and in the
blackness trying to image what had happened to Aerck.  Was he
scared because of what had happened or was he scared because he
had enjoyed what had happened.  Billy didn't know, possibly even
Aerck didn't know himself.  But Aerck did know that he didn't
want Billy to leave.


.    I had walked up to the third floor to try and find the
bathroom.  Jerry had said to use this one as the second floor
bath was still being built.  Matthew, Jerry's son of 11, was
inside trying to figure out how to fish a bottle of shampoo out
of the toilet.  He had a real apprehension of putting his hands
in the water.
.    "How did you do that?" I asked him.  He shrugged and looked
around.  I spied a pair of rubber gloves on the counter and
handed them to him.  He put them on and pulled out the bottle. 
"You were trying to put this up your butt, weren't you?"  He
nodded sheepishly.  "How far did you get?"
.    "To the 'M'," he told me.  His Texan accent rang out.  The
"M" on the bottle was about four inches from the top.  
.    "Better," I told him, then I stopped for a second.  "Have
you ever been tongued?"  He shook his head.  "Do you want to be
tongued?"
.    "Sure," he said.
.    I told Jerry that Matthew and I were going over to my cabin
for a while.  Matthew was an only child, and I had worked myself
into his life as a substitute big brother, with Jerry's
encouragement.  I was 13.  
.    Both Jerry and my parents had houses here in the mountains,
about half a mile apart.  Jerry knew that Matthew and I fooled
around sometimes.
.    Because of the housing market depression recently, my
parents had managed to buy this huge, multi-story house near Vail
for quite a bargain.  One of the rooms had a jacuzzi inside,
which is where Matthew and I headed.  I undressed him, then
myself, and we climbed in the hot water.  The temperature kept
both our erections in check.  My parents were not home.
.    I rubbed his back for a while and slowly worked my way down
to his uncut four incher.  He was sitting in my lap and leaned
back against my chest, interlacing his fingers behind my neck. 
We stayed that way for a while, keeping our eyes closed and our
bodies pressed together while listening to the water bubble.
.    I shut off the air pump and helped Matthew climb out.  The
towel was ignored, instead we trooped up to my bedroom, my own
tiny erection bobbing from stair climbing.  We climbed, still
dripping, onto my bed and I looked at him.  Matthew was a very
handsome boy, light brown hair, gold tan with no tan lines
(Matthew had a skylight in his bedroom where he could tan nude,
where I often joined him), and a face that anyone could love in a
second.  As aforementioned, he was uncircumcised, and since
hitting puberty, young Matthew's erections came and went
relentlessly, not unlike my own.  I laid down beside him and
pulled back his foreskin, rubbing his meat slightly.
.    "Uh-uh," he told me, shaking his head.  "Give me what you
promised me," as he pulled his knees to his shoulders."  I smiled
and rolled him over on his belly.  He pulled his legs under his
body, pushing his hips in the air while his head and shoulders
were against the bed.  I knelt behind him and rubbed his buns,
looking at his tender, pink hole.  I pulled his cheeks apart and
pressed my lips against his body, his sphincter letting my tongue
slip inside.  Matthew groaned a pleasure whimper as I slowly ate
him out.  I ran my hands along his back and chest, feeling his
soft skin tense and relax with my movements.  When I reached his
penis, I found the last bits of semen dripping.   The adolescent
had had an orgasm and I hadn't even realized it.
.    I pulled away from him and turned him over.  His face had
the look of terror.
.    "I'm sorry I messed your bed," he almost cried.  I couldn't
believe that it bothered him.  I grabbed and held him against me,
telling him that it wasn't wrong, it was wonderful.  I kissed
him, deeply.


.    I didn't know what I was getting into, I don't know why I
did it and I don't know how to get out.  I'm too young for this,
14 is too young, right?  
.    I wake up, he's right here beside me.  He's older than me, a
couple of years I guess.  He picked me up, I was his pick-up, out
on the street.
.    Wait a second, is that all I am?  Just a street kid?  I
don't think I have to do this, to be a junkie I mean.  If I have
to fuck guys like this one, I don't want to be a part of this
anymore.  He's...I dunno, I don't want to talk about it.  Shit,
where's my clothes.  Look how I'm dressed.  This is pretty sick,
I have to get out of this.  I'm outta here, out of his apartment,
out of the city.  But where the hell am I going to go.  At this
hour.  Maybe I'll cruise a little, maybe make a couple of more
bucks before I leave.  'Course, that's what I said last time. 
Maybe I can't get out, maybe this is it.  That's so fucking
stupid, this can't be it.  There's people a hundred miles down
the coast making millions of dollars, I can't stand here and fuck
guys and think this is it.
.    I'm probably wrong, maybe there's not a lot I can do.  Oh,
look at him.  Well, he's cute, I guess.  He's got what I want,
shit, I hope a cop's not around.  Maybe I'll do this once, just
once more and maybe I can get a bus or something out of here, go
somewhere else.  Yeah, just once more, that guy wasn't really so
bad, this one will be better, though.


.         Shorts '91 will be released January 01, 1992.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
To find out more about the anon service, send mail to help@anon.penet.fi.
If you reply to this message, your message WILL be *automatically* anonymized
and you are allocated an anon id. Read the help file to prevent this.
Please report any problems, inappropriate use etc. to admin@anon.penet.fi.