Message-ID: <022454Z03061995@anon.penet.fi> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories From: firstname.lastname@example.org (Skryton) X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories Organization: Anonymous forwarding service Reply-To: email@example.com 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 firstname.lastname@example.org. 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 email@example.com.