Author: Lizard69
Title: Research
Summary: Curiosity, Insatiable curiosity.
Keywords: Mb MMb reluctant


This is a work of fiction.  If you have trouble with the boundary between
fact and fantasy, don't read it.  If non-consensual sex between adult men
and a young boy freaks you out, don't read it.  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 it to be accessed by minors.  If you
have inadvertently 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 2011 by Lizard69.

   Research (M+b, rape, reluctant) Lizard69



   I'd missed the bus again.  It wasn't a big deal.  There was a later bus,
mainly for the kids involved in extracurricular activities like theater or
sports.  Besides, my folks were getting used to it by now.  I was a few
months into my first year of junior high and still going nuts in the
library.  The parochial school I transferred from had nothing but a single
room in the basement filled with children's books and, "Christian",
approved reading material.

   The school library wasn't anything special but I hit it like a man
wandering in the desert falls into a lake.  The librarian watched me
gulping information for a couple months before giving me the run of the
place, including her office where the items that might not be, "age
appropriate", were shelved.  In fact, that's why I was late.  Being new to
public school, this year was my first exposure to sex ed.  I wasn't as
ignorant as some of my classmates even when I was still being taught by
nuns.  A farm kid knows about livestock mating and where calves and
chickens came from.  The church may still have been struggling with the
idea of artificial insemination but I'd watched the procedure performed on
dozens of cows before my first day of school.  Reproduction was no mystery.

   What was new and exciting was the idea of human sexuality.  That is
*people* doing this stuff for love or pleasure.  Whoever put together the
program for early teens did as much as they could to deemphasize the
recreational possibilities of procreation.  But how can you deal with a
subject like masturbation, without giving the kids some idea that they
might want to try it?  The more you stress that it's a normal part of
growing up and nothing to be ashamed of, the closer you get to convincing
any kid who *hasn't* done it that they're missing something.

   I was still technically a virgin.  I'd done the usual little kid
exploration, "show and tell", or, "playing doctor".  My closest friend at
school was in the class ahead of mine.  On a sleep over he talked me into
experimenting a little.  He was short and fat while I was taller and damn
near anorexic.  If anyone had walked in on us it would have looked like
Laurel and Hardy watching each other masturbate.  With my red hair and
freckles maybe I was closer to Howdy Doody.  Regardless, we were two kids
doing solo play in the same room.  Neither one of us actually popped a load
but I managed to have what I later learned was a dry orgasm.  Probably
named by the same guy who came up with the term, "near beer".  I'd soon
discover it was pretty damned lame compared to the real thing.

   Which brings me back to the point of this story.  Reluctant to tear
myself away from the sexual dysfunction chapters of a psychology textbook,
I made it to the bus stop just in time to watch mine leaving without me.  I
suppose I could have returned to the library but it was only going to be
open a little longer.  That left a choice of an hour walk home, or a two
hour wait for the late bus.  About the only thing I had in common with a
normal twelve year old was more energy than patience.  Just the idea of
sitting around for a couple hours thinking about what I intended to do when
I got home was enough to make me start walking.

   It doesn't take a whole lot of attention to put one foot in front of
another.  Most of my mind was focused on what I'd read a little earlier. 
The segment on nymphomania sounded interesting but it didn't have anything
about recognizing symptoms in my female classmates.  Satyriasis was
different.  The idea that anybody could actually be more horny than a
teenage boy was too much to accept.  Homosexuality was just an intellectual
concept.  I'd been called a fag or homo by kids that didn't like me but it
was more of a general purpose insult than an accusation.

   It was still kind of warm for November, one of those fall days people
call crisp.  If you're walking in a summer weight jacket and the sun is
getting low it's more like chilly.  By the time the older guy in the Chevy
stopped to ask me if I wanted a ride I didn't even think about warnings
against getting in cars with strangers.

   This guy was certainly strange and getting stranger by the second.  He
was older than my dad and wider as well, not fat but heavy set, stocky.  If
I'd been a little slower getting into the car his smile alone would have
set off my mental alarm bells.  Not really false, like somebody just
pretending to be friendly, it was more overdone.  This guy wanted to be
liked...  a lot.  I mean he wanted it a lot AND he wanted to be liked more
than you could expect from somebody you just met.  I tried to ignore it,
looking straight ahead through the windshield while he pulled out into
traffic and got up to speed.  We were hardly rolling when he rested a hand
on my thigh and asked, "How far you going?" For a couple of minutes all I
could do was stare at his hand while a jumble of half understood clinical
terms fountained between my ears.  Homosexuality...  Pedophilia... 
Consensual vs non-consensual...  Isolated incident vs ongoing abuse... 
Accommodation syndrome...

   "STOP THE CAR!!!  NOW!!!"

   He pulled his hand away like he'd been burned.  Staring straight ahead,
he slowed the car and signaled to pull over.

   "I...  Uh...  I didn't mean any harm.  I wasn't trying to push you into
anything.  Honest!  I'll let you out right here...  or anyplace else you
want.  I'm sorry if I scared or offended you."

   Well yeah, he'd scared me.  From the way I was blushing it's also safe
to say he'd royally embarrassed me.  I guess most people would consider
that offensive.  I was gripping the door handle ready to leap out as soon
as the car stopped if not a little before.  Then I looked at him, I mean
really looked.  He was blushing too, and not actually leaning away from me
but sort of huddling into himself, like he wanted to curl up in a ball but
was too busy driving.  By the time he got the car stopped I realized what
was going on.  HE was afraid of ME and at least as embarrassed about
getting caught making a pass as I was about receiving one.  Maybe that's
what gave me the nerve to explore the situation a little deeper.

   "Mister, this is really weird.  Every other kid I know would jump out
and take off running.  Tomorrow he'd tell his friends about getting picked
up by a creep.  I guess that's what I should do too but, well, sometimes I
don't do what I should.  It never seems like I'm doing what everybody else
is.  I'm different.  I read, a LOT.  I don't have any close friends my own
age.  The friends who really matter to me are all older.  When I get
interested in something like engines or electronics I study everything I
can find.  I'll experiment, like taking apart a broken lawn mower engine to
see why it quit.  I built a radio out of parts I got from TV's I found at
the dump.  If I have a chance to talk with a mechanic or TV repairman I ask
tons of questions.  Understand?"

   "Yeah."

   "Right now the thing I'm more interested in than anything else is sex. I
read everything I can get my hands on.  I look at magazines.  I listen to
older kids and grownups.  I already know more than the other kids my age.
But it's not something I can just go up to somebody and start asking
questions about.  I can't even ask people who are supposed to answer.  I
mean can you imagine me raising my hand in sex ed and saying something
like, 'Ok, that's how it works when a man and woman fall in love and get
married.  What happens when a creepy homo pervert gets a boy to meet him
somewhere private?'."

   "That probably wouldn't be a very good idea."

   "Ya think?  But look at what happened.  It's going to be years before
I'm old enough to get married and maybe more years after that before I meet
the right girl.  I'm sitting here with you right now.  I'm different, but
I'm not exactly special.  I'll bet there are a *lot* more twelve year old
boys talking to homo perverts than there are making plans to get married."

   "You're probably right but I can't see your folks being thrilled to
catch you doing either one."

   "Uh huh, and it's bad enough when the guys at school use faggot as just
another insult.  If they ever found out I was with one I'd have to run away
or hang myself."

   "What are you talking about?"

   "You.  Grabbing my leg isn't a big deal, Ok?  But it's sort of like
testing the water, or the first step in seeing how much you can get away
with.  I yelled at you to stop and you did.  That's good.  We're both
learning things.  You know I'm not going to go running down the street
screaming the minute you start to get a little creepy.  I know you'll stop
if I think you're getting too creepy too fast.  But that's about as far as
it can go if we're out where somebody might see it.  I'm already kind of
worried some of the kids from school will see me sitting in a car with you.
Besides, somebody might walk by and hear what we're talking about.  I'll go
someplace private with you, but only if I'm sure I can leave any time I
want to."

   "I keep my promises but there's no way you can be sure of that.  I
suppose you could tell somebody where you're going, but that wouldn't be
very private."

   "Maybe there's a way.  Find a place that has a copier, then go in and
make a copy of your drivers license."

   He didn't have to drive around very long to find a gas station with a
fax/copier sign in the window.  While he was inside I pulled a stamped
envelope out of my book bag and got it addressed.  When he came out with
the copy I looked it over before stuffing the envelope.

   "Robert huh?  I'm Joe.  Here's the deal.  They had us do a pen pal thing
in school.  My folks are used to me getting mail and they don't open it. 
Even if they do find this I can say a friend was sending some stuff and
must have got the wrong letter in the envelope.  There's a mailbox on the
corner.  Should I mail the letter and then we go for a ride?  Or should I
keep walking and tear it up on my way home?  As long as I make it home all
right I'm the only one that will see it."

   The smile he gave me when Bob said to mail it should have triggered an
avalanche of second thoughts.  Honestly though, I didn't *want* to think
too much about what I was doing.  I had never been part of the, "in", crowd
so having anyone dare me to do something was pretty rare.  The few times it
did happen I thought it over and did exactly what I wanted to.  The dare
itself had little or no influence.  The flip side was that once I decided
to do something it was more or less a done deal.  The more frightening or
difficult the task, the more I tended to, "lock in", on whatever action I'd
chosen.

   Bobs house was out in the country, only a couple miles from mine.  While
the address on his license was a mail box on the main road, his driveway
was almost a half mile long.  Two or three generations earlier a farmer had
broken a building lot out of the middle of his section.  The small farm
house where Bob lived alone didn't really look run down or abandoned, but
it didn't take much imagination to get the idea that maybe it ought to.

   Bob pulled the car into a building left over from it's days as a farm,
too small to be a barn but bigger than the average garage.  One half was
sort of a rough finished room with a loft overhead while the rest was open
inside.  Seconds after he shut the engine off his right arm was on the seat
back and his left hand was resting on my thigh.  We sat there for..., I
don't know.  It seemed like forever.  The loudest sounds were the pops and
pings of the engine cooling.  I sort of wanted to know, like, "What now?",
but not enough to actually ask.  He was plainly waiting for some sort of
response from me and I had no idea what to say or do.  How was *I* supposed
to know what he wanted, *he* was the pervert!

   Unable to think of anything I should do, I went limp.  Later, when I
started making out, I'd meet girls that did the same thing.  So, I'm in
this boneless slump, hands palm up on the seat beside me.  I can see his
hand but I'm not focusing on it.  I'm not focusing on anything.  I'm just
there.  His hand slowly moved up, over my crotch, then up my chest until he
was turning my head, tipping my face up, and he...  well...  he started
kissing me.  It was a complete surprise, embarrassing and kind of gross. 
My first impulse was to pull away but I was already laying back against the
seat.  He felt me start to tense up and backed off a little, letting me
turn my head to look out the window while he ran his hand lightly up and
down my chest, playing with the buttons on my shirt.  He'd popped half of
them when he kissed me again.  Soon I was so busy learning how to,
"french", I hardly noticed his hand fumbling with my belt buckle.

   The early fall weather was cool but I don't think the air outside had
much to do with the chill I felt as he tugged my jeans and underwear down
past my knees.  It's the next few minutes that fill my mind when I'm trying
to remember that day, or trying not to.  My shirt and jacket open, my pants
down around my ankles, I was still technically wearing my clothes while
uncovered from neck to knees.  Bob wasn't really touching me.  Ok, his hand
was on my cheek as we went back to deep kissing but that was it.  This is
going to sound weird but at the time it was happening it didn't seem like a
big deal.  I felt a little short on air.  I guess it's called breathless
but that sounds so, "romance novel".  The whole thing was kind of weird and
scary.  My heart was pounding like I was in one of those dreams where
you're running as hard as you can to get away from something awful, but it
isn't fast enough.  That's when I realized my cock was going from shrunken,
to soft, then...  well it kept getting stiffer and stiffer until it was
pointed at my chin, throbbing in time with my heartbeat.

   It wasn't until I was lying in bed later wondering why I couldn't sleep
that the full weight of what I'd done rolled over me.  I had a mental image
of myself as clear as if I'd been standing next to the car looking in the
window.  I'd scooted forward until my knees were against the dash and my
bare butt rested on the edge of the seat.  His right arm had slipped off
the seat back and down until he could play with my nipple.  He'd introduced
me to sucking face and his left hand was now free to explore.  Lightly,
down my chest and across my belly until he was stroking the insides of my
thighs, stopping now and then to play with my balls.  Finally he brought
his hand a little higher and wrapped his fingers around the shaft of my
cock.

   Oh...  My...  Fuggin'...  God...  I damn near came right then and there.
He felt me gasp and tense up.  His hand left, moving up again to play with
my chest for a while before dipping again towards my throbbing stiffy.  He
laughed against my mouth and I felt my face get hot.  By the time he was
tickling my navel, my ass was lifting off the seat, trying to get my cock
back into his hand.  His head dropped down to lick and kiss the nipple he
wasn't already playing with while his free hand returned to my thighs.  I
thought I was ready this time for his fingers on my cock, then he decided
to add something else.  As his hand returned to my shaft, I felt warm
breath on my belly and suddenly his lips were tight around the head of my
cock.  They must have been tight because while his fingers stroked and
tongue swirled, he didn't lose a drop of the load I shot in his mouth.  A
few moments later, while my other head was still spinning, he kissed me
again and...  well...  he fed me the load from my first real orgasm.

   What in the *hell* was I thinking?  How could I let a total stranger
*do* that to me?  In the darkness of my room my face heated again and my
stomach lurched.  It wasn't just the memory of looking down at my spit
slick dick head while swallowing again and again, trying to clear my mouth
of the last traces of cum.  Bob continued to play with my naked body.  Only
now he was talking, saying things that made me cringe.  Like how much he
enjoyed the sight of my mostly hairless body, how he couldn't get enough of
touching my clear soft skin.  What a thrill it was for him to see the
pleasure I received from my introduction to man sex.  How amazed he was
that an ordinary young straight boy could also be such an eager little cum
slut.  What a precious gift it was, to share my secret with him.

   Oh no...  Oh God...  Oh...  FUCK!  If anyone, anywhere, *ever* found out
about this I was absolutely, no shit, going to fuckin' *DIE*!  And he knew
it, better than I did at the time.  He'd thought this through a lot further
than I had, probably more times than he could count.  I was still wobbly
when he dropped me near home, close enough to walk but far enough I didn't
have to answer questions about who gave me a ride.  He'd spent the short
trip talking about, "our secret", and the things I'd have to do to avoid
getting caught.  I thought it was a little strange at the time.  Now the
other shoe finally dropped.  He thought I was going to do this again! 
Didn't just think it, was so sure of it he didn't say *if*, not once. 
Everything was about *when*.  Bob told me he had other plans for the next
few days but I should give him a call after school on Monday.

   I fell asleep eventually.  It felt like my eyes had barely closed when
the alarm went off and I had to drag myself out of bed.  Don't ask how I
made it through school on Friday.  The only thing good about it was that
keeping up with what was going on was so challenging I didn't have time to
think about Bob.  I wish I could say the same about later.  I nodded off as
soon as I got home.  Then it was supper time, and homework.  When bedtime
arrived I was wide awake again.  It wasn't a school night so they let me
stay up watching TV.  At least I was sitting in front of the tube with my
eyes open.  Don't ask me what the movie was about.  My thoughts kept
drifting a couple miles down the road and a couple of days away.  Did I
really have to call him?  The way he said it wasn't like, "or else", but it
wasn't exactly a suggestion either.  It was just so certain.  Like maybe
the sun wouldn't come up tomorrow, or the school would burn down, or
sometime during the weekend my folks would sell me to a passing wagon full
of gypsies.  We both knew though that the school was still going to be
there, I would be in it, and when my last class ended I'd call him.  The
idea that he might come looking for me scared me worse than telling him
where to pick me up.  Besides, I was about to discover another problem.

   I wouldn't say that up to that time I'd been bothered by unwanted
erections.  Some were embarrassing.  Mostly I enjoyed them.  Now that I
knew how to cope with the problem I should have enjoyed them even more. 
Thinking about the cute cheerleader that sat next to me in homeroom, rarely
failed.  Especially on the days she had cheer practice after school.  We
returned to homeroom for dismissal at the end of the day.  She had gym for
her last class and usually changed into her cheer uni then.  I didn't have
to think about her too long for the front of my jeans to start getting
tight.  It wasn't all that late and I was more horny than sleepy when I
undressed for bed, undressed a little further than usual.  I normally slept
in my underwear.  That Friday I wasn't under the covers more than a few
minutes before my tee shirt was pulled up and my shorts were dangling from
one ankle.  Thoughts of little Jenny?, Julie?, had provided a fine, firm,
stiffy to play with.

   I dropped it like it was hot, not the horny kind of hot, almost on the
first stroke.  I was still horny for my little cheerleader but as my
fingers wrapped around my cock a completely different scene flooded my
mind. Memory trampled fantasy.  I couldn't touch myself without remembering
what happened in a car, in a shed, with a creepy homo pervert.  It would
have been bad enough if my hardon wilted at the thought.  This was worse.
The memory of lying there exposed, kissing him, while his hands...  Oh God!
My cock twitched, growing stiffer than I thought possible.  I knew what an
orgasm felt like now.  There was one waiting for me, minutes, maybe only
seconds away, if I was willing to pay the price.  Could I?  Could I turn
back, this close to release?  I pulled my bunched tee shirt higher and bit
down on it to muffle my sobs.  With my eyes squinched shut and tears
trickling back towards my pillow, I reached down to do what had to be done.
I guess I panicked when my orgasm arrived.  Later I'd have a catch rag
handy.  Right then all I had was my hands and barely managed to toss the
covers aside in time.  I kept from blasting boy juice in all directions but
both hands and my lower belly were covered with sticky wetness.  A tiny
trickle started to meander to one side and I reflexively flattened my
stomach as much as possible.  I knew of one way to dispose of a load,
but... no...  I couldn't...  I, I...  didn't really have an alternative
that wouldn't include answering some humiliating questions regarding
stained bedding.  I spit out my undershirt and had to listen to my own soft
sobs as I licked my hands clean.  It shouldn't have been that bad.  I was
alone.  Unless I told them, nobody would ever find out about this moment.
It was the memory of Bob kissing me, the taste of spunk on his tongue in my
mouth, that made it the most degrading act imaginable.  Bob or not, I would
have eventually learned to jack off.  Without him, the idea of cleaning up
the mess by swallowing would never have occurred to me.

   I did it a couple more times that weekend, with a catch rag handy. 
While I didn't manage to concentrate on my cheerleader all the way to an
orgasm, I got better at it.  Cumming a few more times did make my memories
a little less traumatic.  Maybe things wouldn't be so bad.

   I tried to tell myself that calling Bob on Monday was more, "research".
The truth is I was afraid.  I know now that if we got caught he'd be in
more trouble than me.  I guess I knew it back then too.  The thought of
what my life would be like if the other kids found out was, like, don't
even go there.  I didn't waste a lot of time thinking about his problems.
The idea of him coming up to me while I was with my friends scared me more
than meeting him somewhere.  He picked me up several blocks from school. 
It was a compromise.  I'd have been willing to walk the whole way if it
would keep anyone from seeing us together.  He didn't want anyone to see
where I was going.  It was chilly when we got out of the car.  Fortunately
the, (tack room?), built into the shed had south facing windows.  There was
nothing like curtains or blinds but the windows were dusty and that side
faced away from the road.  We could easily hear passing traffic and anyone
who pulled into the driveway.  The nearest neighbors on that side were far
enough away that even if they caught a flicker of movement they'd have no
idea what it was about.

   Then he was kissing me and unbuttoning my shirt.  I was still mentally
debating how far I was willing to let things go when he had me...  not
naked...  not exactly.  My shirt and tee were hanging on a nearby nail but
everything else was down around my ankles.  He had me turned so I didn't
see the jar of lube.  The first hint I had about how different this was
going to be was feeling his greasy fingertip between my cheeks while he
kissed me and jacked me with his other hand.  His finger in my butt was
uncomfortable.  The second one hurt, even after I had time to relax and get
used to it.  Taking his cock up my ass actually hurt less, physically
anyway.

   Nobody is ever really ready to lose their virginity.  I sure as hell
wasn't ready for this.  Being a normal young boy I was instantly able to
spin a fantasy around anything female that caught my eye.  None of my
mental practice runs included a grown up creep doing homo stuff to me.  So,
it was awkward and uncomfortable, totally embarrassing, and far outside
anything I'd imagined.

   There was a sharp pain right at first when I realized he'd pulled his
fingers out and it was the head of his dick pushing into my ass.  Bob
stopped everything else and just held me for a while until I relaxed again.
It's hard to describe what I felt at the time. His arms were thick and
solid like the branches of an old tree I liked to climb in our back yard.
He wasn't rough but with those arms around me I knew I wasn't going
anywhere until he'd finished getting everything he wanted .  It was scary
in a way.  Like picking blueberries with a big pair of pliers, and me as
the blueberry.  Only his concentration and control were keeping him from
turning me into jam.

   Unable to pull away, rising up on my toes, straining to avoid the slow
invasion of his thick greasy cock, was only a part of it.  As it filled my
ass it began to press against something up inside me, a very special
something.  The sensation was so intense I'm not sure it was pleasure, at
least not at first.  My dick had it's own opinion.  Already stiff, it tried
to give new meaning to the term erection.  Somehow I survived that first
full insertion and felt a wave of relief as the equally slow withdrawal
progressed, followed by despair and more embarrassment at the second
stroke. How had I formed the idea he was only going to shove it in once? 
He'd bent me forward slightly and I found myself watching my own stiffy
bobbing in time with his slow thrusts.  I wasn't the only one watching. 
Bob stopped nibbling my ear long enough to chuckle and ask what the little
cutie I had the hots for would think if she could see me now?

   It was turning into a whole series of shocks.  Everybody knows a horny
boy is going to be drooling over at least one girl.  At the time though, I
was like, oh my God, he *knows* about my little cheerleader and all the
fantasies.  He didn't leave it at that, talking about how she'd probably
soak her panties watching my stiffy wave around while a creepy old perv
opened up my tight little ass.  If I asked her real nice maybe she'd jerk
me off while I was getting man fucked.  Maybe I should ask her to slap it
instead, after telling her I'm an evil little sex freak that needs to have
his cock spanked.

   It was scary, like watching a horror movie, going to have nightmares
later scary.  Or maybe more like already having the nightmare can't wake
myself up.  The pain was really bad at first and never got better than
uncomfortable.  Worse than the physical sensation of my ass being
stretched, was the how and why of it.  His *cock* was being shoved inside
me.  He was doing it so he could cum.  It was *sex* but twisted and
backwards, nothing like what it was supposed to be.  There wasn't a girl
anywhere around.  At the same time there was no way to deny that Bob was
sure as shit *fucking*, no way to hide from the knowledge of who was the
fuckee.  Imagining anyone seeing me like this went way past simple
embarrassment.  Horror and humiliation were fighting to get the upper hand.

   That's when the biggest shock hit like a silent hammer blow.  I was...
enjoying it.  He began teasing me about the tears streaming down my face,
telling me this was special.  I wouldn't be the innocent virgin next time,
a shy little nerd hiding a terrible secret maybe, but certainly not a
virgin.  As soon as he said it I knew it was true.  This was only the first
time.  I would be back.  That little piece of guilty knowledge brought
another.  The instant anything touched my aching stiffy I was going to
squirt boy juice half way across the room.  Bob continued to hold me and
pull me back to meet his slow deep thrusts.  I don't know if he went back
to nibbling my ear for it's own sake or as something to do while he kept an
eye on my stiffy.  I know that the third time I started to reach for my
cock only to pull my hand away, he chuckled.

   "Go on, don't be shy.  I'm about ready to bust a nut myself.  Watching
you jerk a load off while I'm fucking you is sure to push me over the edge.
I could make you do it, or give you a reach around, but I don't have to. 
There's no bigger thrill for me than a shy young boy getting so turned on
that he has to pleasure himself while I fuck him."

   ***

   I woke up disoriented.  Moonlight on the oddly angled nylon above me
eventually let me figure out I was in a tent.  School had been out for
summer a couple of weeks.  It had been months since the last time I had
that nightmare.  I didn't have to think very hard or long to figure out why
it was back.  I'd told Bob my family was going camping at the state park
for two weeks and I wouldn't be able to see him until we got back.  Then
yesterday I'd seen him setting up his own tent at the edge of the
campground closest to our space.

   The scariest part of the dream was that it wasn't at all, "dream like".
In fact, it was brighter and more detailed than my waking memories of the
same event.  I'd lost count of the number of times he'd had me since that
afternoon in the shed.  Some of the things we did would make a sailor
blush. If my folks ever found out, my dad would kill him before my mom woke
up from fainting.  I never had dreams about that, not any of it, not ever.
That first time though, from the moment I discovered I was way too deep
into something I didn't really understand, to the point where I realized I
*liked* being in that position, returned to haunt me again and again.  I
could practically guarantee a replay if I fell asleep contemplating some
new form of, "research".

   My folks stayed up late drinking and talking grown up stuff by the
campfire.  It had been a long day and by the time it got dark I was beat. I
knew when I crawled into my sleeping bag I was going to wake up early.  I
was normally up by sunrise and here I was going to sleep hours earlier in
an unfamiliar place.  Maybe that was the reason, or it could have been
nothing more than traffic, not everyone was a family type and several cars
full of rowdy drunks rolled in after the local bars closed.  Almost from
the first I'd insisted on my own tent for these family vacations.  Now I
was wide awake a little after two in the morning and acutely aware that a
nearby tent held a pervo who might not mind getting up this early.

   The restrooms were in the other direction.  If anyone asked I figured
I'd tell them I got lost on my way back.  I was starting to worry that I'd
wake people in the next tent before I got Bob to answer me.  Then instead
of asking me in he told me to wait a minute and eventually crawled out. 
The moonlight was bright enough to see fairly well but his tent was close
enough to the trees to be in the shadows.  When Bob realized we weren't the
only ones awake he pulled me into the woods.  A few feet from the
campground we were invisible to anyone else.  I'm sure we were still close
enough for his friend to hear when Bob told me there was somebody else with
him.  Somebody Bob wanted me to meet, away from the campground where we had
more privacy.

   The other guy joined us, not too close, another shadow in a woods full
of them.  Bob led me directly into the woods avoiding the hiking trails. 
By the time he stopped we were deep enough in the forest somebody still
might hear me scream but it would take a while for anyone to get to me. 
Don't ask me where that thought came from.  Maybe it was the nightmare. 
Maybe I was unconsciously aware of how this would look to other campers. 
You know, grown men take young boy on late night nature hike.  I was more
curious and excited than frightened.  Especially as Bob began to fill me in
on his companion.

   "This is Gerry.  He's not as much older than me as I'm older than you
but we met when I was about your age.  My dad died a couple years earlier
and mom didn't have the training to get a good job so we moved back into
her dads house.  In some ways he was better than a dad, he had more
practice raising kids and more time to spend with me.  He really was a
grand father.  When I was so busy drooling over the little cutie who sat
next to me in math that I was failing the course, he talked my teacher into
letting me pass if I got tutoring over the summer.

   "Gerry was an associate professor at the local campus of the state
college back then, doing tutoring as a part time job during the summer
break.  I think it took about twenty minutes for him to decide he was going
to teach me more than math.  I didn't learn as fast as you.  Still, when
the day came that granddad returned home unexpectedly it was pretty damn
obvious that I knew what I was doing.  Consent?  Well...  I wasn't exactly
eager to admit it.  Gramps told Gerry it would be a good idea for him to
get his ass somewhere else while we talked about a few things.

   "The first surprise was that he actually wanted to talk, or rather,
wanted me to talk and was willing to listen with an open mind.  When he
walked in I thought we were toast.  Instead I got the advantage of him
already having traveled the usual road with his own kids.  It helped a lot
that we trusted each other enough that he didn't try to pretend I wasn't in
trouble and I didn't try to convince him I was some sort of innocent.  The
whole situation relaxed a lot once he was sure I wasn't getting my arm
twisted and I had realized that was his main concern.  Don't get me wrong,
he was anything but happy about what we were doing.  There just wasn't a
whole lot he could do to stop it and he wasn't going to make a fool out of
himself by trying.  In return for accepting that it was my body and my
choice about what got done to it he forced me to concede that it wasn't
just my reputation.  If I was careless or unlucky enough to get publicly
caught I'd be taking my family name down with me.  To his way of thinking
that gave him the right to set some terms and conditions.

   "I won't go into the whole list.  It was mostly common sense.  One
condition he set had unexpected effects.  While we would all be more
comfortable with me keeping my private life private it was important to
remember I was *not* an adult.  Even adults could get themselves into bad
situations.  Chasing tail was often the quickest way to get there.  For my
own safety it was important that somebody know where I was and who I was
with at all times.  If it was a place or a person my mom might find
questionable I was to tell granddad.  The first few times were awkward. 
After that he might remind me about some later event as I went out the door
or just say bye.  I couldn't and wouldn't ever be really comfortable having
my granddad know I was on my way to get fucked.

   "Years later, after I'd graduated from college and was out on my own, he
revealed that he found the arrangement much more of an ordeal than I had.
Understanding there wasn't any way for him to stop it didn't lessen his
disapproval of what I was doing.  He'd never experimented homosexually,
found the whole idea repellent.  Certainly he'd never contemplated doing
anything like that with his own grandson.  Yet, when I was out engaging in
that sort of activity with his passive cooperation if not his consent, the
thought of what I was doing usually got him sexually aroused.  Eventually
he was so upset by his reaction that he swore my mom to secrecy and
revealed why he would be much more comfortable not knowing if I was out
with certain people.  She not only refused to take him off the hook, she
claimed it was for the exact same reason.  The idea of a cute boy
participating in homosexual activity wasn't especially exciting to her, and
her own son had never had any sort of role in her private fantasies. 
However, the thought of her cute, young, son accompanying a man, or worse
yet a series of men to some private location for sexual purposes would have
her...  well...  better not to take the idea any further."

   "Oh my." From the shadow that was Gerry.  "All these years I thought you
had convinced your grandfather it was a one time thing.  Now I discover
that even your mother knew, and found the idea of me having you exciting?
I'm going to be very angry with you if you don't find a way to make it up
to me for not saying something sooner."

   I was pretty bright for a kid, a regular rocket scientist.  I've since
learned that they often find themselves in social situations where they're
left on the platform after everyone else has boarded the clue train and
departed.  However, if I'm standing in a dark forest and somebody lights up
a neon sign I can read the message.

   "You're going to make me do it."

   "Well, no, not exactly.  Don't waste time trying to act innocent.  I
didn't sneak into your tent to make a straight boy do things while his
folks are snoring nearby.  You woke me up hours before dawn looking for a
dick you already know well.  I've told Gerry some of the things we've done,
things he taught me and I taught you in turn.  It got me thinking about
what it was like for my granddad, or maybe more like my mom.  Only I
wouldn't just want to know about it.  I'd want to be there.

   "You don't have to do anything with anybody.  I'd like for you to do it
with Gerry.  This is going to sound a little weird, but it's a bigger
thrill for me if you *don't* want to.  Like if you promised to do something
really special for me without putting any conditions on it, and now I want
you to let me watch you strip naked out in the woods and fuck some horny
perv.  Then ask us to take turns doing the kinkiest stuff imaginable until
we can't get it up again."

   I guess by some standards it wasn't much of a gang rape.  There were
only two and they would stop any time I told them.  At least that's what I
believed...  really needed to believe, at the time.  Movies aren't real
life, but there's this thing in some of them where a pimp breaks in a new
girl by making her do it over and over with a bunch of guys.  That night
was my coming out party.  From that day forward I did anything Bob told me
with anybody up until I left for college and we lost touch.  At least I
hope that ended it.  I'm married now and have kids of my own.  I can't
exactly skip my little girls recital to suck off a couple grubby winos
behind some dumpster, can I?
   The End