Author: Lizard69 
Title: That Awkward Age 
Part: Part 1 
Summary:Early adolescent boy introduced to the world of pervs. 
Keywords: Mm, nc, Mdom

This is a work of fiction.  If you have trouble with the boundary
between fact and fantasy, don't read it.  If the story codes
following the title freak you out,  don't read it.  If I
mis-coded drop me a note through the author email link at ASSTR.
Do not under any circumstances forward this file to anyone that
hasn't specifically requested it.  In case you haven't figured it
out yet this is intended as *adult* entertainment.  Do not allow
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downloaded it in a jurisdiction where such material isn't legal
please delete it immediately.  Do not re-post in whole or in part
without this notice.  Do not repost on any "for profit" site
without my specific written permission. Copyright 2016 by
Lizard69.

That Awkward Age (Mm, nc, Mdom) by Lizard69

  It was unusual to see somebody like him in the little park near
our house.  Mostly it was mothers with young kids or retired guys
watching the grandchildren.  Now and then there'd be a cluster of
older boys or some blue collar  worker stopping on his way home.
The early summer day was so beautiful he must have decided
returning to the office after lunch just wasn't an option while
going straight home wasn't much better.  He'd pulled some papers
from the open top of the soft briefcase next to his bench but
seemed more interested in the surroundings than the reports he
was reading.  I was a little out of place myself, dressed for
soccer or jogging, loose shorts and a sleeveless tee, while
carrying a textbook.

  "Mind if I sit here?"

  "Not at all.  Grab a seat."

  For some time we sat there sizing each other up, trying not to
be too blatant about it.  He was an, "old guy", to me even if he
was still on the low side of forty, not exactly fat, on his way
to building an office waistline.  There was something else,
something I'd only recently started to pick up on, a hint that
maybe he was a little more interested in me than a total stranger
would, or should, be.

  "Hi.  Uh?"

  "Preston."

  "Preston, I'm John.  Isn't it a little unusual to be sitting
here reading a math text, dressed for something much more
active?"

  "I guess.  My tutor had to take care of something urgent and
the guys I play with don't get out of school for another hour."

  "Excuse me if this is too personal.  From the way you look it
might be better if you doubled up on the math and skipped the
sports."

  "Yeah, well, being a kid isn't all puppies and butterflies.  We
play pretty rough sometimes, even get into fights that would
cause serious damage if we were bigger.  It doesn't help that I'm
small for my age and bruise easier than the other kids.  My folks
used to argue about it.  Dad says as long as I don't think it's a
problem, and I continue to give as good as I get, the best thing
they can do is stand back and let nature take its course.  Being
ready to go another round when it looks like you already lost an
argument with a truck isn't always a bad thing.  Mom will get
weird if I don't change as soon as I get home.  If she saw all of
it she'd lock me in my room.  If she knew how I got some of it
she wouldn't even let me have visitors."

  "Oh?"

  "Uh, I guess that's a little too much information."

  Actually, it was closer to being just enough.

  A couple months earlier I walked into a restroom just as this
older kid and another boy, from the class behind mine, were
coming out of a stall.  The younger boy got kind of flustered
when he noticed me looking at them.  Later I caught him alone and
asked what was going on.  Instead of telling me he started
blushing and refused to answer.  The next day the older boy,
Charles, was waiting for me after school.

  "Leave the kid alone.  If you really want to know, I'll tell
you about horny perverts.  We can go for a walk, or you can just
forget about it.  You might be happier not knowing.  It doesn't
make much difference to me."

  "Let's walk."

  "Ok, you know grownups do sex stuff.  Older guys usually like
younger, prettier, women but most people have to settle for what
they can get.  Some guys are perverts.  They want things that
most people think are weird or creepy.  Just like normal people
they usually have to settle for what they can get."

  "Weird how?"

  "All sorts of ways.  Like, most guys want women with nice tits.
 Some are, "tit men", who think the size of her rack is the most
important thing about her.  That's getting a little weird.  Some
creeps think all a girl needs to be totally beautiful is tits so
huge she has to haul them around in a wheelbarrow.  A guy who
can't even get hard unless the girl he's with has a huge rack is
one kind of pervert."

  "What are the other kinds?"

  "I don't know all of them.  There are almost as many ways to be
a pervert as there are people.  Also, the guy one girl calls
pervert another calls boyfriend.  The exact same thing that is
normal if you do it with one person can be  perverted if you do
it with somebody else.

  "Like, most guys want their cock sucked.  When they first
started dating your grandmother probably told your grandfather
that was perverted.  Some people would think it's perverted if
she did it this afternoon.  Most people wouldn't have a problem
with some high school girl blowing her boyfriend.  If she was
blowing somebodies grandfather, that would be creepy.  If
somebodies grandfather had his dick in your mouth, that would be
perverted."

  "Eeewww!"

  "Uh huh, The kind of perv who gets his kicks with kids is the
only one you really need to worry about right now.  The ones who
are chasing high school or even middle school girls aren't a
problem.  Some of them though, are after skinny little girls that
aren't much different from a cute boy."

  "I'm different!  Even a blind pervert will know real quick if
he has a girl or a boy."

  "Oh, they'll know.  What I'm saying is that they might not
care.

  "Imagine a pervert gets a girl your age somewhere private.  If
he has the time and isn't worried about somebody crashing in on
them he'll try to get her naked.  Ok, she's got a cunt instead of
a dick.  It isn't big enough to do much for him.  He can rub
against it but she's a little kid.  If he tries to fuck her like
a woman he'll hurt her, maybe bad enough to need a doctor, for
sure bad enough she'll tell.  That's ok.  If he's that stupid and
mean he should be in jail.

  "So, what else can she do?  She can suck him.  Maybe she can't
take it as deep as her big sister, but she can stroke whatever
she can't swallow just like sis.  If she's any good at it he'll
keep coming back for more.  About the second time, if not sooner,
he'll start trying to get in her ass.  Maybe just teasing it with
a greasy fingertip, maybe inserting a pen or a fat bodied marker.

  "Sooner or later it will be his cock.  If he goes slow, uses
lots of lube, backs off when she asks him to, eventually she'll
let him fuck her ass.  For some girls it becomes like an
alternate cunt."

  "You're right.  That's weird."

  "Ya think?  Think about this.  Parents keep a close eye on
their innocent little girl.  It's a lot easier for a pervert to
get a young boy someplace private.  His cock can't tell the
difference between your mouth and hers.  Your ass is just as hot,
just as tight."

  "Perverts are queer?"

  "Not often and even the line between perv and normal isn't
always clear.  Let's say maybe one in a hundred guys has looked
at a kid sometime and thought about doing something.  In a city
this big those people would make a good sized town all by
themselves.  If one out of a hundred who thought about it
actually followed through and did something, it would be enough
to fill a stadium but still less than one in ten thousand.  Gays
say that they're like, ten percent of the population.  I don't
think it's that much but even if they're right the odds of a
queer fucking some kid are like, one in a hundred-thousand.  If
some guy is waving a hardon in front of your face, he's probably
got a girlfriend and maybe even a wife."

  "Oh...  Then why..?"

  "Because what you got doesn't always have a whole lot to do
with what you want.  If a perv wants to fuck kids, age is more
important than whether the kid is a boy or a girl or even who's
kid it is.  Some pervs will date a woman to get with her kid. 
Some will marry and have kids to get what they really want to
fuck.  That's another kind of perv.  Some are hot for anyone that
age, others want to do it because the kid is theirs."

  "That is *so* messed up!"

  "Yeah.  None of this is a big secret.  Nice people don't talk
about it.  If you back them into a corner and keep pushing
eventually they'll admit it happens and ask if they can talk
about something else now.  There is one thing a normal person
will never tell you.  Maybe they really don't know.  Maybe they
think it's something only pervs know and they don't want anyone
thinking they're a perv..."

  Hey, I'm twelve.  I haven't been alive long enough to develop a
really sensitive bullshit detector.  I suppose Charles could have
been a good storyteller.  The thing is it didn't just sound true.
 The language was crude and the ideas a little shocking but it
*fit*.  Like somewhere in my head all these half heard, half
remembered, pieces were bouncing around looking for the larger
ideas they were part of.  His final line still floored me.

  "Some kids *like* it."

  I didn't see him again for more than a week.  Charles was in
high school so our paths wouldn't normally cross unless one of us
was looking for the other.  What I wanted to ask was embarrassing
enough I didn't want him to think I was looking for him.

  "Uh, these pervs...  Do you know any?"

  "Sure, so do you, you just don't know that they're pervs yet."

  "Oh...  How do I find out?"

  "Well, that's the tricky part.  They can't exactly walk around
wearing an athletic shirt with, 'Team Pervert', on the back, can
they?  Asking the wrong kid the wrong question would get them
interviewed by more cops than you ever want to meet.  It's a lot
safer if a kid asks them the kind of question that lets them know
he's not so innocent."

  "Ok, I get that, but what do I ask?  Who do I ask?  I can't
just walk down the street asking every old guy if he fucks young
boys."

  He grinned and said, "You could do worse."

  "Yeah, right, should I tell them Charles sent me?"

  "Ok, how about this?  Tell me where I can meet you Saturday
morning.  I'll spend some time watching your back.  I won't be
stepping on your heels but I'll stay close enough to see who's
checking you out.  Don't go anywhere or do anything special. 
Mostly I want to see the guys who know you or at least have seen
you around before."

  "You can tell by looking at them?"

  "Not really.  I mean, if somebody put together a photo album
where half the pictures were guys who fuck kids I wouldn't be
able to pick them out."

  "Then why..?"

  "If I can watch how they act around you, how they look at you,
especially when they think you can't see them, I can make some
good guesses...  at least about the ones interested in you."

  It was a little strange at first, until it sank in that he
wasn't really following me, more like trying to be the same
places.  By the middle of the afternoon I was almost startled
when Charles walked up to me.

  "There's one for sure.  I know another boy he's been with."

  "The other boy from..."

  "Don't ask.  Anybody who wants you to know can tell you
himself.  There's a couple more that are pretty safe bets and
another that's a, 'definite maybe'.  What do you want to do about
it?"

  Good question, what did I want to do?  Did I want to do
anything?  Did I even want to know who was interested?

  "I guess I want to know who's looking, at least the one you
know for sure."

  "Yeah, well, there's a problem with that.  He's taking a chance
on messing up his whole life each time he does a new kid.  If
it's ok with you, I'll let him know you won't tell.  What he does
about it is up to him.

  "The guy who runs the hobby shop is almost panting and
drooling.  I'll bet he starts getting hard when he sees you
coming up the street.  One of the guys at the park is kid
watching and he noticed you.  It's hard to tell how interested he
is in any particular kid.

  "Did you see who was changing the sign when you passed the
church?  I don't know who he is.  I go to a different one.  Don't
kneel when he's around unless you want cum on your face."

  "Gross!"

  "So what?  It washes off.  Some of them get a bigger kick out
of seeing their cum on your face than finding a kid who
swallows."

  "Eeewww."

  "Those are the options, spit, swallow, or wear it.  You'll want
to keep it off your clothes.  If you're naked it doesn't matter
so much.  The taste isn't anything special.  If you don't like
it, you'll notice it less to let him go deep when he cums instead
of trying to spit it out."

  That was more than I could handle for one day.  We went our
separate ways before getting into what I was supposed to ask.  It
was another thing to think about during the following week.  I
was far enough into puberty I had sex on the brain any time I
wasn't busy with something else.  Half the time I wondered if I
was turning into some kind of pervert.  That was before finding
out about this *other* kind of sex.

  The thought of some girl knowing what I was thinking of doing
with her was enough to send me into a stammering panic.  To
suddenly find pervert cock invading my fantasies was too much. 
When I finally quit shivering at the thought of some perv wanting
to get me naked, it occurred to me that, "alternate cunt", wasn't
just a girl thing.  There was more than one marathon jerk off
session before I saw Charles again.  Then, all he did was give me
a few tips and suggestions.  I was more or less on my own.

  I was used to the hobby shop guy watching me every minute, like
he thought I was a shoplifter.  That he might have some other
reason to watch would never have crossed my mind before Charles.
This time I watched his reflection in the store window while I
pretended to look over a shelf of model kits.  Before long he
reached down to shift his dick to a more comfortable position. 
It was like being a member of some secret club and exchanging
recognition signals.  I smiled at him over my shoulder...  then
got scared and left.  I wasn't sure yet how far I wanted to take
this.  It's not like there was any big hurry to find out.

  It's a little embarrassing to remember being that naive.  I
should have known other people might have been a lot more eager
to push my limits.  Like Henry, a retired guy on my paper route.

  That first time, he pulled me inside when I came collecting for
the week.  I'd been given some vague warnings about dealing with
strangers.  I should have been old enough to understand the
danger even if I hadn't lied about my age to start a route before
I turned thirteen.  Especially after Charles filled my head with
creepy fantasies.  Then, all of a sudden, it was real.  That's
what I remember most about the first time, a feeling of, "ready
or not, this is it".

  "What?  Why?  Lemme go!  I didn't do anything!"

  "You will.  Get your clothes off."

  "I...  You..."

  "Right.  The quickest way for you to get back to whatever, is
to do what you're told.  If I wanted to argue I'd get married
again."

  Everything was happening so fast.  He almost tore my clothes
off when I wasn't quick enough, then dragged me naked towards the
couch.  It was so unfair.  Not that an adult was ordering me
around, kids get used to that, the way he wasn't giving me the
time to do what he wanted.  There was pain, he was probably
hurting me more than I realized.  There was fear, shock,
embarrassment, but what had me in tears was being jerked around
before I had a chance to do what I was told.

  Then Henry was on the couch.  I stood next to it naked, bent
over, with the head of his cock in my mouth.  His hand was
covering mine, which was wrapped around the shaft, stroking... 
harder...  faster.

  "Yeah...  Like that...  Jack it!"

  The fingers of his free hand, slippery with lube, were in the
crack of my ass, massaging my ass hole, dipping slightly into it
as he pushed some of the lube inside me.  One finger dipped,
tipped, slid deep into my ass, as the other hand released mine
and moved to the back of my head, preventing me from pulling
away.  I could feel the spurts pulsing up the shaft, filling my
mouth.

  "Swallow!  Eat my cum!"

  I guess I did... some of it at least.  Most of it flowed back
out to glaze his cock and my hand.  He relaxed.  His finger
slipped out of my ass.  I straightened up, started to wipe a
dribble off my chin and realized there was more on my hand than
my face.  Henry got up.  I could hear him running water in the
bathroom.  The sense of... relief I guess, was almost giddy, like
I could push off the carpet with my toes and float right up to
the ceiling.  He returned with a towel and a warm wet wash cloth.

  "Clean up and get dressed.  Don't even think of telling
anybody.  I've got a half dozen friends who will swear I was
playing cards with them all afternoon."

  He shoved me out the door with, "Here's five for the paper. 
Keep the change."

  The actual tab was a little over four.  So many of my other
customers said the same thing, it was like being dumped back into
the normal world.  The only world I'd known until then.  I
finished collecting then found a quiet place to think.  I guess
it was rape.  I mean, if I'd walked out his door, bumped into a
cop, and that cop asked me what was wrong, I would have reported
it.  But, the shock was already starting to fade.  I was more
upset at the idea of people finding out than I was over what I'd
done.  Yeah, what *I* had done.  Maybe it was my own mind trying
to put the best face on a bad event after the fact.  Part of it
was a case of raging adolescence.  I couldn't stop jerking off
any more than I could suddenly decide to stop breathing.  I also
couldn't have an orgasm without remembering the sensation of his
cum surging up the shaft I was stroking on its way to my mouth.

    I almost skipped him when collecting the next week but I
wasn't making enough to give anybody a free subscription.   I was
actually kind of let down when he answered the door acting like
nothing had happened.  He needed to run some errands before he'd
have the money and I should come to the back door after supper. 
It was getting dark by then so it made sense to scoot down the
alley rather than try to navigate an unfamiliar yard.  Later I'd
think of the low budget horror films where nobody saw the idiot
victim enter the killer's house.  At the time I knocked, I wasn't
exactly nervous.  For that I'd have to think about what might
happen.  Call it skittish, like an animal sensing something isn't
quite right.

  I was looking around, noticing that his back door wasn't
visible from the nearest houses when it opened.  His hand shot
out and I thought for an instant he'd lightly punched me in the
gut.  Instead his fingers slipped into my waistband, closed on my
belt buckle, and snatched me inside the house so quickly he
lifted me right off my feet.  He half walked, half carried me
down some stairs to a windowless basement laundry room.  A bare
bulb dangling from the rafters illuminated the washer, dryer, and
a sturdy table.

  "Get your clothes off, it's play time."

  I suppose I could have begged or argued.  I knew what he wanted
to do was wrong.  I also knew that the quickest way out of there
was to do it.  He soon had me bent over the table, bare naked,
with my head turned to one side so he could stand next to me and
put it in my mouth.  He didn't have to wrap my hand around his
cock.  I was so relieved to know what was happening I began
stroking him before he told me to.  I felt his fingers playing
with my ass hole and something else I couldn't identify at first.
 The tops of my thighs were pressing against the edge of the
table.  I blushed as I realized the top of my cock was also
straining against the wood as it tried to point at my chin.  I
thought he wanted me to speed up when he grabbed my wrist. 
Instead he pulled both of them down until one hand could pin them
where they crossed at the small of my back.  Standing behind me
he wrapped his greasy fingers around his cock and began fucking
his fist.  The head came through, into my ass crack and up
against my hole.

  "No!  Please don't!  It's too big!"

  "Shut up until you have a reason to whine.  I'm not doing
anything yet."

  That wasn't completely true but he was right about it not being
a big deal... yet.  It was uncomfortable to have the head of his
cock pressing, stretching, sinking a little deeper with every
nudge.  But it stopped a little short of painful.  About the time
when I was trying to figure out how to make him understand I
really couldn't take any more he gave one last shove.  Not even
the head was all the way in but it was deep enough in a hole that
was tight enough nothing leaked when he gave me a sperm enema.

  The next time I tried to stand back but had to reach out when
he handed me the money.  Releasing the bills he instantly shifted
his grip to my wrist and hauled me inside.

  "Stop!  I can't!  It's *wrong*!"

  "Uh huh.  Charles told me you were asking all the right
questions.  That's not a roll of nickels in your pocket.  It's
kind of silly to tell me you can't do something you already did a
couple of times.  Downstairs, now."

  It was pretty much a repeat of the time before.  Except...   He
managed to get two fingers into my ass and when he started
fucking his fist the head of his dick went into me.  It didn't go
deep but I could tell I was opened up enough he could have. 
Before he let me go Henry made it clear that I didn't have to
keep him as a customer, but if I did, I'd have to keep doing
this.  It took me an awfully long time to get to sleep that
night.

  I can't say it was an accident when I finally bumped into
Charles again.  There were a few things I wanted to ask him
about.  Seeing him leaving Henry's while I was collecting for the
week at the house next door was a small surprise.  The money he
folded and jammed in his pocket as he turned away was a good
place to start when I caught up with him some distance down the
street.

  "So, Henry pays you?"

  "Yeah, but not for what you think."

  "What makes you so sure you know what I think?"

  "Maybe I don't, if we were talking about anything but Henry. 
You're only a couple years younger than me, but I'm already
getting too old to be interesting.  I'm still young enough to be
a bridge that kids like you can cross to get to him."

  "You set me up!"

  "Oh puh-leeze don't start playing *that* tune.  We both know
you can't even think about some pervert doing you without getting
hard.  I told Henry he could get away with it.  That's all.  It's
true, and it would still be true if he never touched you."

  "Touched?!  He fuckin' raped me.  And you knew he was going to
do it."

  "Like you didn't?  Ok, maybe not the first time.  But he
doesn't give me a finders fee the first time, you have to come
back.  That's what really scares you, isn't it?  That everyone
will find out you went back."

  "I'm not like that!"

  "Not queer?  So what, the last thing he wants is some little
lost puppy begging for attention.  He wants a tight, slippery
hole.  An eager little cunt, hot for man cock."

  "But... I'm *NOT*!"

  "Not much, not yet, he's breaking you in slow.  You're past the
first big step.  You're not just curious anymore, you know what
it's like to be fucked by a pervert.  Even if he never does it
again you won't forget.  And when he's done with you, now or
later...  Well, you aren't exactly upset that there's already
other pervs checking you out."

  He had a point, though it took another session with Henry and a
few days thinking about it before I was ready to admit it.  I
guess he was expecting me.  It was easier than it should have
been to find him after school.

  "So... What happens next?"

  "It's up to you.  I suppose you could quit.  That would be like
a kid giving up jacking off after he finds out how good it feels.
 It might be possible but it really isn't going to happen.  Not
for long anyway."

  "I meant with Henry.  You said he was breaking me in slow.  If
this is slow I don't even want to think about fast."

  "You spend a lot of time thinking about slow, huh?"

  "Uh..."

  "Relax, I'd know you were lying if you said you didn't. 
There's no way you can make yourself cum without thinking about
what Henry does to you.  You can say you hate it.  Maybe that's
even true.  But you know you're going to keep on doing it as long
as Henry likes it more than you hate it."

  "But it's wrong."

  "Uh-huh, nasty, wicked, perverted, the guys at school would
give you a hard time about it, at least in public where their
friends could see.  Most of them anyway, a few would do it to you
if they could get you alone somewhere and knew you wouldn't tell
anyone.  Same with the girls, they'd whisper and giggle about you
with their friends.  But if they knew where it was going to
happen, and there was some way they could watch without getting
caught, most of them wouldn't be able to resist the urge to take
a peek.  A few of them would even find some guy to do you if they
knew how much you want it."

  "But I don't..."

  "... want it?  Ok, you don't, not like wanting to go see a new
movie.  It isn't like wanting a cold drink when you're hot and
thirsty or food when you're hungry.  You're not even horny, like
drooling over the cute girl in your last class of the day before
you rush home to get yourself off.  But if you know when and
where Henry wants to make you get naked and use you for sex, you
*have* to go there.  You can stay away longer than you can hold
your breath but what would be the point?  You know from the
beginning you're going to do it.

  "Then, when he's done with you, you'll go home.  You still
won't be horny, not like thinking about a girl.  But you'll think
about it, how much he wanted to see you naked, how much pleasure
you gave him with your mouth.  You'll remember how it felt to
have a grown man on you, in you, fucking you until he cums.  And
you'll jerk off, again and again until you couldn't get it up one
more time if your life depended on it."

  For a while all I could do was stand there and blush.  Then it
hit me.

  "How did you know?"

  "Oh come on, you can't think you're the only one.  There aren't
many, not as many as there are horny boy fuckers, but enough to
go around if the perverts don't mind sharing."

  "Uh... Sharing?"

  "Not this afternoon, maybe not even next month, but...  Well...
 You didn't think this was it, did you?  I mean if you only did
it a few times you should know you're just getting started. 
There's no going back, no saying, 'This far but no further.'  You
can stall, slow it down some, in the end you'll do whatever the
creeps want.

  "Look, maybe you're a good kid, always have been, want people
to keep on thinking you are.  That's ok, maybe better than ok. 
Most of your life will go on just the way it has been.  Sooner or
later though, somebody is going to see or hear something that
would get them thinking if they didn't already know you were the
neighborhood, 'nice boy'.  The others, like Henry, or the ones
like me who know but don't really care, will help.  It's safer
for us, and a bigger kick, to have everyone else think you're a
little goody two shoes.  Just remember it's a two way street."

  "What do you mean?"

  "If you want them to help you keep your reputation as a 'nice
boy', you have to help them turn you into a fuck toy."

End Part 1