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Subject: {ASSM} Sex Life of a Pre-teen Perv {Willie Do} (bg bMF bb b best cbt enem)
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Date: Thu, 02 Jun 2016 05:10:03 -0400
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{ASSM} Sex Life of a Pre-teen Perv {Willie Do} (bg bMF bb b best
cbt enem)

A story made of fictional gossamer over biographical truth.

PRE-SCHOOL

When I was four years old, Pop divorced his wife and got custody of the
children, and he moved to a different city with my stepmother, my eleven
year old sister Ginger, and me. Though she was my stepmother, Mom's the
woman who raised me so I think of her as my mother. I only have a few
memories of my real mother, and after she and Pop divorced I saw her just
once on a brief visit when I was eight, so she doesn't figure in my life.

Anyhow, Pop brought Ginny and me together with Mom and him in an
apartment in a residential neighborhood at the edge of the city. Pop
drove to work and was gone from early morning to early evening. Ginny
left for school after Pop left and returned before he got home. Mom
stayed home with me since I was too young for school. While she took care
of housework, I played around the apartment, wearing makeshift costumes,
pushing toy cars around the floor, and walking upright under the dining
room table while imagining myself a grownup cop. Mom took me with her to
the local grocery, and now and then she took me on the metro to the city
centre so she could shop in department stores or see her doctor. On those
days Pop drove us home, and Ginny stayed with friends after school.

Pop's first job in the city paid poorly, so Mom decided to earn extra
money by selling magazine subscriptions door to door. During the hours
that Ginny was in school, Mom and I went to a neighborhood near our own,
and she visited one house after another, all the way up the block. She
put me on the sidewalk with a toy while she went to each front door and
tried to chat her way to a sale. One day I tired of my toy and, seeking
adventure, I started attacking beasts with a branch I found on the ground
- until the woman at the front door screamed at me to stop ruining her
bushes. Mom told me to stop, and the woman asked, "Is that your child?"
Mom said yes and apologized for the damage I'd done. "Well I'll have to
get that cleaned up, so I don't have any money for magazines." The woman
slammed the door, and Mom came down the walk in a fury, picked up me and
my toy, and hurried home. She couldn't stop telling me how bad I was, how
I'd ruined her sale, stopped her from making money, and generally was
messing up her life. The next day she was nice again, though she never
sold magazines with me again.

My world expanded when I was five. That's when Mom took me for walks
around our block and taught me about the risks of being outside and what
rules I had to follow to stay safe. Mom viewed me as naive but
intelligent, so after Mom was sure I had passable street smarts, I was
allowed to walk around our block on my own and play outside without
supervision.

One day, walking along the alley that started behind our apartment
building and continued behind single-family houses, I discovered a
red-headed girl my own age playing in her backyard. We pre-schoolers made
introductions - Susan and Billie, and I began playing in her backyard
with her. Her mom saw me and smiled at me. Later that day I told Mom
about my new playmate, and she was pleased.

After several days of playing together in her yard, Susan invited me to
go with her under the back stairs of her house to look at each other's
crotches. I liked playing with her and was eager to do anything she
wanted. Under the stairs she told me to drop my bib overalls and
underpants so she could see what my middle looked like. I did, and she
stared at my bald crotch as I stood with my pants around my ankles. She
told me to lie over the drum of a lawn roller stored beneath the stairs
so she could see my butt. I laid with the rusty roller rough against my
belly and crotch, my head hanging down one side of the roller, my legs
almost to the ground on Susan's side.

Susan prodded my buttocks and balls, and after a pause she said I'm
putting something in you. I didn't think she should do that, but I stayed
draped over the drum anyhow. A rough object pushed through my anus. She
moved the object in and out, and jiggled it inside me. I liked the
feeling of my anus sliding over the object, and when she asked me how it
felt, I told her that it felt nice, and I liked it.

That got her keen to try it herself. Do it to me, she said. I stood up,
and she handed me the rusty nail she'd picked up from the ground - about
15 centimeters long and six millimeters thick, and smelling shitty now.
She dropped her overalls and underwear to her ankles and laid over the
roller the same way I had done. I got only a glimpse of her crotch while
she stood, but had a good view of her slit and pink asshole when she
draped herself over the drum with her legs and head hanging either side
and her ass raised.

"Don't put it in the front hole," she told me, "because Mommy says
nothing should go in there." I couldn't see a front hole but guessed that
she meant her slit.

She told me to spit on the nail to make it slippery and put it in her
butt hole. I followed her instructions and slid the nail into her asshole
a couple of centimeters, wiggled it around, pushed it inward another
couple of centimeters, and stroked it in and out. She said she liked it
and I should keep doing it. Eventually she told me to stop, and I took
the nail out of her. She got up, and I asked where to put the nail. "Just
throw it on the ground, that's where I got it," she said. We pulled up
our overalls, and after playing a while more, I went home.

On my next visit, I suggested going under the stairs again, and Susan
happily agreed. However, just when we got our clothes to our ankles, the
nextdoor neighbor stepped out on her back porch, saw us, and gasped. She
twirled around and went inside. Susan said we better stop before her
mother came out. We got dressed quickly, and I left for home.

The next time I visited, Susan said the neighbor told on us, and her
mommy scolded her for undressing outside. Susan suggested we go into her
basement for fun. The basement was clean and comfortable, with old
furniture scattered around, and Susan said that's where she played on
rainy days. Off came our pants and underwear. Susan told me to sit in an
easy chair because she wanted to play with the parts sticking out of my
crotch. So I sat with my legs spread and my feet up on the seat and
watched her squeeze and pull my cock and scrotum.

She looked at my face and said, "You wanna put that nail in my butt hole
again?" "Sure," I answered, "but we gotta dress to get it." She grinned
and said "Nun ah, I brought it with me." She went to her overalls and
pulled the nail from a pocket. She gave it to me when I stood up, and she
plopped down in the chair.

Susan laid back on the seat cushion with her butt hanging over the edge
and her legs tucked under her arms, looking more like an amputee than a
little girl with long skinny legs behind her head. Her pink asshole
budded in front of me, and her pussy opened enough for me to see inside
the crack a little. I spit on the tip of the nail and positioned its
point at the dent in her asshole. A push and her shiny pink anus expanded
around the rusty nail.

She gasped when the nail penetrated. She said, "That's nice. Take it out
and do it again." I drew out the nail and saw that her asshole now had a
red funnel centered in the pink circle.

A hand grabbed my fist holding the nail, nearly causing me to faint from
shock. Susan cried, "Mommy!"

Susan's mother took the nail from me, and said, "Don't put that dirty
nail inside her." To Susan she said, "Susan, never put sharp things
inside you."

Frozen in her ass-protruding posture, Susan sprouted tears, and said,
"I'm sorry Mommy. I didn't mean to be bad." Her mother said, "Honey, you
didn't know, so you're not bad. Just don't do it again because that nail
could hurt you." She paused, frowning, and added, "Let me check that
you're not hurt."

Susan's mother put the nail in her dress pocket and kneeled beside me on
the floor. She reached out, put her thumbs on either side of Susan's pink
anus, and pulled it open as much as she could, opening the red funnel and
showing the shiny skin inside.

"Everything's fine," the mother announced, dropping her hands. She looked
at me and said, "Don't do that again, Billie. Now you two put on your
clothes, and go play in the backyard." Susan and I obeyed.

I kept on visiting Susan for backyard play, until my family moved to a
different apartment, in the city too far away for me to walk over and
play with Susan. After that I never saw her again.

-  -  -

Sometimes I went with Mom on her visits to Dr. Beam. They went in his
office, and I stayed in Dr. Beam's waiting room, alone because as a hotel
doctor he had no waiting patients and no receptionist. Crayons and a
coloring book kept me occupied.

I couldn't hear anything they said through the closed door, but the first
time I was there I heard Mom cry out, then moan. I was anxious for her,
but she looked happy when she came out of his office. I said I'd heard
her yelling and asked why. "Oh nothing," she said, "just something the
doctor did inside me."

Mom visited the doctor about once a month, and every time that I went
with her I heard the same yell and moaning. Decades later when Mom was a
widow and we were sexually forthright with each other, I asked her what
happened when she visited Dr. Beam's office. The following monologue
summarizes some of what she said in our conversation.

"Daddy signed me up for nursing school when I was 16 because he was
afraid I'd get knocked up if I stayed for the last year of high school.
One day in the summer before my last year of high school, Daddy sat me
down in the barn and said that he'd heard I'd fucked a boy.  Daddy and my
brother and I watched animals fucking all the time, and we talked about
sex like sailors in a whorehouse, so that's what he actually said to me,
"Ruth, I hear a boy has been fucking you." I told him it was true. I even
told him how we did it, and what the boy's cock looked like. I was having
fun making Daddy have a hardon that showed through his pants. He grinned
and said he was glad I knew how to have a good time, and then went on
with what he had to say to me.

"He said he was pulling me out of high school. Instead of a high school
diploma I'd be a registered nurse with an RN diploma. He told me I was
lucky I wasn't pregnant - this was in the days before birth control pills
- but I'd learn in nursing school how to stay childless as long as I
wanted, and I'd get a good occupation besides. I tried talking him out of
it, but he'd already set up my training at a hospital in the city 400
kilometers away.

"So, I boarded the train on a hot August day, and five hours later I was
in the big city, a hot-blooded teenage girl straight off the farm. I did
fine at the nursing school, made friends with other girls in the school
and passed all the nursing tests. My problem was boys. The other nursing
students went out with boys from a nearby college, and I tried that, but
I'd grown up on a farm watching animals fuck, and I expected a boy to
feel my pussy as soon as he could, not sit around talking.

"Then I took a job working as an aide in the hospital to get some
practical experience and extra money, and everything changed. They
assigned me to the obstetrics ward, and Reese Beam and Damon Hawk were
the two obgyn residents there. Both of them were movie-star handsome.

"Those two! A week after I met them they had my feet in stirrups on an
exam table, and they're taking turns inspecting my cunt. They'd told me
they needed practice in examining a woman, and they talked me into
volunteering. Truth be told, I got warm thinking about showing my pussy
to such good-looking men, so I was easy to convince.

"After visiting hours, when the hospital was quiet, the three of us went
in one of the obgyn rooms. They had me undress all the way - naked, no
gown - so as to make the examination simpler they said. I knew they just
wanted to see my sexy teen body, and I wanted them to! I got excited
seeing hardons tenting their pants even before I got on the exam table.

"As soon as my feet were in the stirrups they were looking inside me and
poking my parts. I got horny as a dog in heat. Reese came up by my head,
looking down at my face all professional, and said he'd noticed that I
was aroused sexually from the examination - did I want relief. Imagine me
lying there with two handsome doctors, my legs spread and my cunt
drooling. I nodded like a kid wanting ice cream. Reese and Damon soon had
me bouncing around on that table and squealing like a pig under a boar,
one orgasm after another.

"I kept enjoying the workout they gave me even when it hurt. Damon hurt
me when he pushed a catheter up my urethra. Then Reese opened up my
vagina with a speculum and stuck a sound through my cervix. His digging
around in my uterus would have been unbearable if Damon hadn't been
pinching my nipples and clitoris at the same time. Eventually I passed
out on the exam table from all the pleasure-pain they gave me.

"I ached for a couple of days, but I was their little slut after that. I
couldn't get enough of them. They treated me like their shared
girlfriend, and I took all the sex they'd give me, any way they wanted.
Occasionally we got free time and went out to dinner and nightclubs, then
back to their apartment to fuck all night. They weren't shy about
touching each other, so I got lots of fucks with a cock in my pussy and
my butt at the same time, and sometimes both in my pussy together.

The joke was, Dad sent me to nursing school because he worried about me
getting knocked up, and I got pregnant from my two doctors, I don't know
which. Reese gave me an abortion - we made it into another of those
orgies with me in the stirrups and Reese digging around in my womb while
Damon kept me orgasming.

I was sterile after the abortion. I liked the sexual freedom that gave
me, but sometimes I pined to have a family of kids. That's why I was glad
to raise you and Ginger.

"I got my RN degree the same time Reese and Damon finished their
residencies. I wanted to stay close to my folks in order to visit home
occasionally, so I got a job at another hospital in the same city. Reese
got a job there too. Damon took a job a thousand miles away, and I never
saw him again.

"Reese kept me as one of his girlfriends, and we explored a lot of kinky
sex together. He liked getting two or three girlfriends in bed at the
same time with us sexing each other while he went from one to another. We
joined an S&M club for a while, and hung out with people who liked sex
with animals. Once we took a vacation in South American and he bought an
eleven-year-old girl to fuck with us for a whole weekend.

"Then Reese raped a patient at our hospital. He thought she was drugged
unconscious, but she wasn't, and she reported him. Hospital big-wigs kept
it quiet to protect the hospital, but they told him he'd never get
another hospital job and wouldn't even be able to affiliate with a
hospital for private practice. So he got that job as hotel doctor. He
said it had sexual benefits and paid well enough.

"Before Reese's fiasco I thought about marrying him, but afterwards I
dated other men because hooking up with a disgraced doctor didn't seem
wise. I kept seeing Reese to enjoy the good times he gave me. Thats what
you heard, Billy, Reese giving me orgasms. He was incredible - hands,
mouth, cock, medical instruments. He even got an electrolysis machine and
used electricity to stimulate my pussy."

"When Carl and I started going out together, I told him about Reese, and
Carl liked hearing about my orgies with Reese and the kinky things we
did. I never mentioned I fucked Reese after I got married, but Carl must
have figured it out from my frequent visits - a gal doesn't need a doctor
once a month.

"Even though Carl loved hearing about all my kinky escapades, he divorced
Doreen because of her kinkiness. She fucked guys at home while Carl was
working, and Carl told me he didn't mind that, that he'd even eat her
pussy while she told him about what she'd done. But one guy convinced
Doreen to get Ginger in bed with them when Ginger was only six years old,
just for snuggling at first, then Ginger sucked off the guy, and then he
took Ginger's virginity - all with Doreen alongside and helping. That
went on until Carl found out and broke up the marriage, and he got
custody of you and Ginger.

"When Carl told me about Doreen's three-way with Ginger, it reminded me
of my weekend in South America with Reese and the little girl prostitute,
but I didn't let on to Carl that I thought Ginger having sex with her
mother and a man was exciting. One night when Carl and I were having sex,
I told him about the sexy time Reese and I had with the eleven-year-old
girl. I repeated it on other nights, making Carl cum while I told him how
much that little prostitute loved sex with Reese and me. Carl finally
came round and admitted my talk about the little girl excited him. Carl
never fucked Ginger as far as I know, but at least I got him open-minded
about sex with kids before I married him."

Mom's story about Dr. Beam cleared up what happened the day that she took
me to the doctor for a medical check up when I was five years old.

I went inside with her, and for a while Dr. Beam chatted with me about
the medical paraphernalia in his office while Mom sat watching. Then he
seated me on his examination table and inspected my ears, eyes, mouth,
and throat. Stepping back he said that I had to take off my clothes for
the rest. Mom got up and undressed me, leaving me sitting naked at the
end of the examination table with my calves and feet dangling down.

Dr. Beam stepped forward, towering over me, and stethoscoped around my
chest and belly, accompanying his actions with comforting patter. The
doctor grabbed me round my chest and lifted me forward with my butt near
the edge of the table and my thighs projecting outward. He got a small
metal hammer from a cabinet, assured me his actions wouldn't hurt, and
tapped each of my knees making my lower legs jerk reflexively.

He told me to spread my legs, and I stretched my knees so far apart that
I bumped them on the stirrups. I asked what those things were for. Dr.
Beam explained they held a woman's legs apart when he examined her, and
if I wanted he could adjust them for me to use too while he examined
between my legs. I declined emphatically and said I was a boy, not a girl!

He moved between my knees and put a hand on my scrotum. Suddenly one of
his fingers jabbed upward from my ball sack into my pubes. I yelped and
squirmed with the discomfort - it felt like he was pushing gravel into
me. As he pulled his finger out he said he was checking for hernia and
had to do the other side too. I stared as he again pressed his finger
into my scrotum and pushed upward beneath the skin beside my penis I
mutely endured the feeling of stones rolling inside my groin, watching is
wagging fingertip make a moving bulge in my pubes. I was astounded that
he could get his finger inside me like that. Dr. Beam withdrew his finger
and said, that's fine Billy, no hernia.

He grasped one of my nuts through my ball sack and squeezed, creating an
ache in my belly. I forced myself to hold still while he rolled my
testicle in his fingers. He said, now the other one, and switched his
fingers to my other nut, doing the same thing - grasping, squeezing, and
rolling the little cherry through the skin of my scrotum. I perched rigid
on the edge of the examination table keeping my legs spread for him.
Finally he stopped and said, no growths on your testicles Billy.

Dr. Beam called Mom over and had her stand beside him between my thighs.
He said to her, Billy's left testicle is smaller than the right one, you
feel them. Mom's fingers dug into my ball sack and grasped a nut, and Dr.
Beam instructed her to squeeze firmly in order to press down to the solid
core, and to roll the gonad between her fingers. I gasped, feeling the
belly ache again. Now the other one, Dr. Beam instructed. Mom pinched,
squeezed, and rolled my nut, despite my squirming, while Dr. Beam
explained that the difference between my two testicles was not abnormal.
Mom nodded, her fingers continuing to squeeze and roll my nuts.

Dr. Beam finally had her back up so he could continue the exam. Did that
hurt, Dr. Beam asked me. I nodded. Well, he said, that was the worst part
and you were a brave boy Billy, so you'll get some candy when we're done.

Now I need some of your pee, he told me. He turned on a faucet saying the
splashing sound would help me go. He got a beaker from a cabinet and held
it against my scrotum, grasped my flaccid penis, and put the end into the
beaker. Just let go and pee and I'll catch it in this glass, he told me.
He and Mom stood, looking down, waiting for me to pee. They conversed but
I don't remember what they said because I was trying hard to make the pee
come out. After a while some pale yellow urine trickled out of my cock,
and Dr. Beam and Mom stopped talking to watch. There wasn't much. When
the flow completely stopped, Dr. Beam set the beaker on the counter
behind him.

He turned back to me and said, I have to examine your penis, Billy. He
squatted in front of me, taking my cocklet in his fingers. He asked, does
this ever get stiff? I shrugged, but Mom said, yes Billy gets erections.
Dr. Beam said, Billy, I need your penis stiff so I can make sure it's
working. You sit and relax and I'll get it stiff. He began stroking and
pulling my cocklet while Mom stood watching him. He kept at it a while,
but my penis didn't stiffen.

He got up and went to his cabinet, saying, I know something that works
sometimes. Again he squatted in front of me, and stroked my penis with a
feather. He asked if it felt good, and I said it did. My penis gradually
stiffened and raised until it stood up in my crotch. Wonderful, Billy,
the doctor said as he stood up. Isn't that a fine erection, Ruth? Mom's
face reddened, and she agreed my erection was a fine one.

Dr. Beam filled the cup of his hand with clear liquid from a bottle out
of his cabinet. He said, I'm going to rub your penis with this castor oil
to make it feel nice. That's what we're testing now, Billy, how nice we
can make your penis feel. He reached down and sploshed the caster oil
over my crotch, making sure he thoroughly coated my boner and balls. He
grasped my cock and balls and pulled them through his fist. Then he
tightened his fist around my boner and pumped up and down.

Does that feel good Billy, the doctor asked. Yeah, I answered. He told me
to lie back on my elbows and enjoy the feelings. I did, watching while he
caressed my boner and balls, amazed at how good my cock fel. Aftter a
while he told Mom to take over. She poured some caster oil in her hand
and massaged my genitals while Dr. Beam watched. Mom did it even better
because she rubbed her fingers up and down my boner, and she kept
stroking her thumb over the head of my cock.

Eventually the doctor told Mom that I probably was too young to climax,
and he wanted to move on. While Mom cleaned my crotch with a soapy
washcloth, the doctor told me that I did fine, and the feelings in my
penis would be even better when I got older.

Rectal exam next, he said cheerfully, and he and Mom exchanged smiles. He
pulled out a shelf at the end of the exam table, had me stand on it, and
turn around. He told me to lean over and rest my chest on the table with
my feet apart. I laid on his exam table looking at medical charts on the
wall. Billy, he said, I'm going to put my finger in your butt hole so I
can feel inside you. He showed me his gloved finger coated in caster oil,
explaining that the oil would let his finger slip in easily. I felt his
finger massaging my anus and sliding slowly into my rectum. I held very
still for him and stared at the wall charts. Then his finger stroked in
and out. Does that hurt, he asked. No, I said, it feels good. Dr. Beam
and Mom chuckled. He extracted his finger, and I curled around watching
him over my shoulder. You're clean inside, he said, showing me the greasy
glove as he pulled it off and discarded it, so I'm going to look inside
you and make sure everything is healthy.

He got a speculum from his cabinet and showed it to me. He said, I'll
slide these blades inside you and spread them like this: see how it
works? I nodded. He said, I'll warm the metal first. He turned away and
flowed hot water over the instrument. Mom seemed excited about him
looking inside me, and she told me to hold still and keep my butt high to
make it easy for him. The doctor came behind me rubbing the speculum with
caster oil. Lie flat on your chest, he said, and I pressed my chest to
the exam table with my behind held high. While I stared at the wall
charts, he slid the speculum's snout into my rectum and spread the
blades. Good, he murmured. I twisted my head, looking over my shoulder,
and saw him bent over, peering into my behind. He spread the blades more,
looked, spread some more. My anus began to tingle but I answered no when
he asked if it hurt.

He pulled out the speculum without reducing its size, and Mom behind me
said I had a big hole. The doctor said, your opening is big enough for me
to examine your insides with another instrument if you want, Billy. Go
ahead and do it, I said, proud that my hole was so big. Good boy, he
said, and turned away. Over his shoulder he said, this one's not hard
like that metal one.

Mom reminded me to keep my chest down and my rear up. I did. Suddenly Mom
leaned across my back and pinned me to the table. I protested that I
wouldn't move, but Mom said that she had to make sure I stayed still
while the doctor used the next instrument. I strained to look over my
shoulder, but I couldn't see much, just Mom over me, looking down at my
butt, and the doctor's face above her, also looking at my butt as he
stood behind me. The doctor murmured something, and Mom wiggled further
over me so I couldn't see behind me.

I stared ahead at the charts as the doctor pushed the new instrument into
me. It was more comfortable than the speculum. I pictured the doctor
bending over, pushing the instrument around while he looked inside my
butt. Instead he kept pushing, until the bottom of his lab coat touched
my calves. He withdrew the instrument a ways, then again pushed it in
until his coat brushed my legs. I laid quietly, looking at the wall
posters, comfortable with the instrument moving in and out of me, but
confused about why he was staying upright with his coat touching my legs
instead of bending over to examine me. I heard his breathing get louder
while the instrument moved in me. He caught his breath, and Mom shifted
along my back close to my behind. I glanced back, and she was looking
down at the instrument inside me. The doctor groaned and stopped moving.
A minute later he pulled the instrument out of me, and swabbed around and
inside my asshole with tissues.

Mom got off my back and helped me sit up, facing the doctor again. I
asked what touched my legs while he was looking in me. Doctor Beam said
it was the bottom of his lab coat, leaving me perplexed about what he was
doing. He asked me if the last instrument felt bigger than the metal one.
I said, no it felt like your finger. Mom laughed, and the doctor looked
sheepish.

That was the end of my medical examination. Mom dressed me, and the
doctor gave me candy. When we were in the car driving home that evening
Mom told my father about the doctor visit, explaining that Dr. Beam gave
me a complete exam, including rectal, and all my organs were working
perfectly. I said nothing, supposing that everything that happened was
what a complete exam meant.

After Mom told me about her sexual activities with Dr. Beam, I finally
understood what happened at my first medical exam. I had mixed emotions
about it. Letting her lover fuck my butt made me just another kinky
experience for them. I wished they had let me be a participant like I was
in the anal games with Susan. Of course, Mom would have worried I'd tell
Pop about Dr. Beam fucking my butt if I knew what happened, and Pop might
react the same way he had on discovering what happened to Ginny.

SIX TO EIGHT

I started school when I was six. The first day Ginny walked me from our
new apartment to our school. I remember almost nothing of first grade
after that, other than getting scolded for looking up little girls'
dresses.

When I was seven we moved to a rural subdivision 50 kilometers from the
the city and started new routines. Pop drove downtown to work each
weekday, leaving very early and returning late. Ginny, now a 14-year-old,
enrolled as a freshman in the high school five kilometers away and rode
the school-bus, leaving soon after Pop and getting home in late
afternoon. She became a cheerleader and spent little time at home
thereafter. Mom stayed home, a housewife who also raised poultry and
tended a garden, besides taking care of us kids.

Mom enrolled me in the third grade at the one-room schoolhouse two
kilometers from our home. She had a conference with Mrs. Usher, the
teacher, and managed to skip me a grade. Doing without second grade was
easy because Mom had home-schooled me in nature studies, reading, and
arithmetic whenever we were together.

The first week of school Mom accompanied me on the walks to and from the
schoolhouse, but I was on my own thereafter. Mornings I typically met up
with other kids going to school along the inter-city highway that made up
most of our route, and afternoons we kids walked home together enjoying
talk, play, and side trips.

Prior to our moving to our ten acre tract, my father had built a wooden
tool-shed that later expanded into his rock shop. Our first summer in the
country he and some others added a shanty-home that was insulated to
protect us from the cold but that had no electricity, telephone, or
plumbing. We spent the winter in that building with heat from a
coal-and-wood stove. Our toilet was an outhouse, and baths were in a
round tub filled with water heated on the stove. Pop's shirts and Ginny's
blouses had to be ironed with a heavy metal iron, heated on the stove.

As a nurse, Mom was keen on the restorative power of enemas, and she
started giving them to us once every few months that year. The deed was
done beside the stove, lit by a kerosene lantern, with expulsion into a
15-liter bucket whose rim was painful for sitting. I tried to be outside
when Pop got his enemas because it seemed gross. I was shooed outside
during Ginny's, but Ginny only let Mom give her a couple of enemas before
Ginny ended it.

Enema time meant I had to remove my pants and stand barefoot, bent over
with my elbows on my knees. Mom greased my anus with cold creme, her
finger spreading the creme around the outside and then pushing through to
lubricate the inside thoroughly, sliding her finger in and out and
curling and twisting her finger within my rectum. I liked that part of
getting an enema, and I stood still poking my ass toward her, never
complaining even though she took a while preparing my anus for the
nozzle. Sometimes she had me spread my feet more and bend further
forward, probably to give her a better view of my cock and balls.

Mom used a bulbed douche nozzle for enemas because, she said, the enema
nozzle that came with her bag was too small to stay in. She slid the bulb
inside my well lubricated asshole, and clicked open the clamp on the
rubber hose. Warm soapy water rushed in rapidly from the bag hung high on
a post, and cramps came quickly! If I whined desperately enough, Mom
clamped the hose part-way through to let my cramps subside. Always though
I ended with the bag's two-liter capacity ballooning my rectum and colon.
I then had to stand before her with my protruding gut and my face
sweating from the hot acerbic water inside me until I lunged for the
bucket. She left while I evacuated, then returned to empty and clean the
bucket.

The summer when I was eight was devoted to building the first rooms of
our permanent house. The concrete blocks were laid on weekdays by our
next-door neighbor, a wirey old guy who also built a brick house for
himself. My father and some young guys labored hard on construction over
the weekends. At sunset, after the workers had left, we'd gather around a
car radio connected to a storage battery to listen to news and mystery
programs. Nature also entertained us, such as fireflies putting on light
shows.

Our pair of dogs became entertainment when the bitch came in heat. Pop,
Mom, Ginny, and I stood outside in the balmy evening watching our male
German Shepherd get it on with our mongrel bitch who was about half his
size. Since it was all totally new to me, my parents had to explain
everything, which they each did with lots of laughing. Why is he licking
her rear end? Because her pussy - her female part - makes a scent he
can't resist. Why's he trying to jump on her back? Because that's how
dogs do it - you'll see. What's that red thing under him? That's his
penis - he's got a hardon now so he can push it in her. Why's he jerking
his behind so fast? Because he's getting his hardon into her pussy. Why's
she whining and trying to bite him? Because his hardon's too big inside
her and hurts. Shouldn't we get them apart? No, she wants it, and anyway
now his hardon's stuck in her with a big swelling. Why's he sitting on
her? He's getting his leg over her so he can rest. Why are they standing
with their butts together? Because he's squirting his male stuff inside
her to make puppies grow in her belly. Why's he pulling her behind him
and making her cry? Because he's done and wants to get loose, but the
swelling's still too big, and hurts her when he tries to pull it out. Was
his hardon that big inside her with that ball at the bottom? Yes, even
bigger. Why's he licking his thing? Because he likes the tastes of her
pussy and his male stuff. She won't want that anymore, will she? Oh yes,
she'll make him do it again tomorrow.

The prediction was correct - we watched the dogs fucking every night for
more than a week, every time a bawdy frolic for my parents, with changes
in their faces and voices that I was too naive to recognize as lewdness
and lust.

My sister huffed off inside as soon as the dogs got stuck together, and
in retrospect I like to think watching the dogs fuck made her so horny
she had to go masturbate. She was a sex slut by then, gangbanging jocks
on bus rides home from games - the stories about her and other
cheerleaders still were circulating when I got to high school.

I experienced nothing sexual about the dog fucks, just the high spirited
revelry. When the bitch no longer was in heat, I delighted my parents
some evenings by dropping to all fours and wiggling my butt in front of
the male dog until he mounted my back and humped against my behind. When
he hopped off we all could see I'd given him a red hardon that hung
beneath him. Both of my parents found this hilarious, and they got those
same lustful looks on their faces.

The Shepherd died soon after my genetic mother made a visit, and Mom
claimed that Doreen had poisoned the dog. Whatever the case, Mom and Pop
soon replaced the Shepherd with another male dog - a Labrador-Retriever
mix with short golden hair. He was a bit smaller than the Shepherd had
been, though still a big dog.

My father started me in his home rock shop when I was eight. He gave me a
bag of semi-precious stones to distribute into compartments of a drawer.
That was a 15-minute job for an expert but it took me all afternoon.
Thereafter I worked in my father's shop on weekends, eventually cutting
and polishing stones. My father took my products with him to the city,
helping to pay for expensive toys I accumulated during my pre-teen years.

We moved into the first wing of our permanent house as soon as it was
weather-tight, and lived a winter there. It was still primitive but at
least we had indoor plumbing. Pop and his helpers continued constructing
the rest of the house as weather permitted, and the basic structure was
ready the next year.


AGE 9

Two boys, Bobby and Harry, transfered to my one-room school. Each lived
an easy walk or bike ride from my house, and when I was nine they became
my playmates, first Bobby who also was nine, then Harry who was ten.

Bobby's father was a German immigrant who raised pigs, worked odd jobs,
and trapped for furs. Bobby's mother was a roly-poly woman, and Bobby's
eleven year old sister took after her mother. I had a snooty opinion of
the family, but Mom liked them and thereby involved me with Bobby.

One late spring day just after I'd turned nine years old, Bobby and his
mother visited, and our mothers took off back to the other family's
house. As soon as Bobby and I were alone he told me he'd teach me some
fun things he learned from his cousins in the city if we could go
somewhere hidden yet close enough to hear our mothers returning. I took
him to a crawlspace under the first section of our house, lit by sunlight
through dirty windows.

Bobby told me to take off my shoes and pants as he was doing, and shortly
we sat half naked on the dusty ground with joists right above our heads,
our knees nearly touching, staring at each other's crotches. Each little
pecker stood stiffly upward. My penis, my father's, and all others I'd
seen, were circumcised, but Bobby's was not. It stood pointed with a
little pucker at the tip, which fascinated me! He pulled down the
foreskin revealing the shiny red glans, and I was mind-boggled.

Bobby started jacking off, and he told me to copy his motions, which I
did. After a while he suggested doing something more fun, and I followed
his directions until we ended up lying on the ground in a 69 position. He
sucked my cock, and I delighted in the sensations, staring at his boner
in front of my face. "You do mine, too, but don't bite" he said. I
engulfed his pecker in my mouth, and tongued and sucked. I liked the
feelings, but soon my jaw ached from holding it so far open, and I tucked
his boner between my cheek and teeth to be more comfortable. I laid
passive, enjoying his cocksucking.

"You're not sucking me," he complained, peeved. He sat up and pulled on
his pants. I didn't want to stop our fun, and I begged him to stay.

We went upstairs, and he asked if I ever wore Mom's panties. I said no,
dumbfounded at the idea. He said he liked to wear girl's underwear and
suggested we both give it a try. A few minutes later we stood, each
wearing a pair of Mom's panties, baggy on our small bodies, and
unfeminine with our boners protruding. I liked the silky feel, and I
liked looking at Bobby's boner tenting the panties he wore. However, we
soon got bored and put the panties back in the drawer.

With a secretive air Bobby said his cousins had taught him something I'd
really like. He bent over and said I should put my boner in his butthole.
I pressed my unlubricated glans to his puckered anus and it stopped, too
dry to penetrate. He said he'd try it with me. I bent over and felt his
cock plunge into me as his glans slipped out of his foreskin through my
anus without need for lubricant. His boner was about the same size as
Mom's finger when she lubricated me for an enema, so I was comfortable
with the feeling, and even enjoyed it. He kept pumping in and out for a
while, but eventually he tired of the action. He pulled out and got
dressed. I complained that I hadn't got to feel my boner inside him, but
he said I was the lucky one, that having a boner in you is best.

A few weeks later our moms again left us alone at my house, and this time
I was with both Bobby and his sister. I made sure the girl was busy, and
then I led Bobby to an old car, and we got inside for more sex play. I'd
got the idea of using spit as lubricant for butt fucking (maybe I
remembered it from my play with Susan five years before). I got his pants
down, sunk my slippery boner in him, and eagerly began fucking his ass,
when I looked up and saw his fat sister leering at us through the car
window.

I was furious that she'd caught me being homo. I scrambled from the
vehicle pulling up my pants, and yelled at the girl never to tell. She
wise-cracked that I looked like a homo when I had my pecker in Bobby. I
yanked out my belt, doubled it over, and slapped her face with it. She
cried. Bobby admonished me, saying she'd never tell because she was
fucking their cousins, and he asked her to fuck me so we could all make
up. Still crying, she said, "No, he's mean!" They went home.

I got together with Bobby one more time. I asked if I could suck his
cock. He said, "Sure," and we climbed to my tree-house and stripped off
our pants. His uncut boner stood waiting for me between his spread legs,
and I could hardly wait to get to it. "Okay if I pull down the skin on
the end," I asked. Bobby told me to go ahead, like I needn't bother to
ask. So I leaned forward into his crotch and watched from inches away as
I rolled his foreskin up and down, fascinated at making his shiny red
glans come out like a dog boner and then disappear, making his prick
pointed. I got so engrossed that Bobby finally asked, "Aren't you going
to suck it?" I answered "yeah" and sunk his boner in my mouth. I sucked
until my jaw tired from staying wide open so I didn't scrape his cock
with my teeth. He wanted to suck my boner then, and I enjoyed that until
he pulled away and said he had to go home.

I never played with Bobby again because our lives took different
directions. For all the sex he taught me, neither of us ever had orgasms
in our play.

Harry, in my same school grade, lived with his mother and her lesbian
butch. He rarely saw his father except for a few summer sports events.
Our association grew out of football games he organized at school in
which he pounded others unnecessarily. My tenacity kept me coming back
regardless of hurting, so, when other boys began avoiding him, I became
his sole pal. That summer, as Bobby dropped out of my activities, Harry
replaced him, and soon Harry and I were playing together several days a
week.

Harry got in with a group of boys visiting from the city, and took me to
one of their circle jerks. I was the youngest, then Harry and another
ten-year-old and an eleven year old, and a couple of twelve year olds.
The oldest was Brian, a fourteen year old just starting high school who
lived in our neighborhood.

Bobby already had taught me about jacking off, so I joined the circle of
boys with their cocks out and began jacking mine while I looked around
assessing the hardons of the other boys as they jacked theirs. After a
while a twelve year old announced he was cumming. We all looked at his
boner and suddenly it spewed white drops to the ground. I was astounded!
Then another and another of the older preteens added their deposits to
the dusty ground between us. Brian grunted he was cumming, and we all
watched reverently as his much bigger hardon jetted half a dozen spurts,
adding to the dark spots of jism on the dusty ground. The ten-year-old I
didn't know announced his orgasm, and we could see his pecker throbbing,
but nothing came out. Someone explained he was too young to shoot.
Neither Harry nor I orgasmed before the circle disbanded.

That night I laid in bed jacking off, determined to find out what
happened when those older boys jacked off. It took about half an hour,
but I finally felt weird sensations spreading through my body and mind,
so strange I had to drive myself to continue. As the neural explosion
overwhelmed me, I was sure I'd never be the same because of the body harm
taking place at that moment. In truth I never was the same, but only
because I turned into an inveterate masturbator, having daily orgasms by
the time I was ten and peaking with seven orgasms a day when I was
thirteen.

Harry and I went to another circle jerk. The younger boys were absent but
Tony, a new city boy, was there, a swarthy thirteen year old with an
uncut cock. By that time Harry's provocative talk and jostling had
alienated those boys, too, so Harry and I were treated curtly though not
told to leave. However, after the older boys had orgasmed, Tony
confronted Harry, wrestled him to the ground, and kneeled on his
shoulders with his limp cock on Harry's face. Brian said he wanted no
part of Tony's actions, and left. The two other boys stayed, and so did I
out of loyalty to Harry.

"You're gonna suck my dick and get me hard. Then you're gonna suck me
off," Tony told Harry. He positioned the pointed foreskin of his cock on
Harry's mouth.

Harry twisted his face to one side, squealing, "No, no!" Tony followed
Harry's mouth with his cock, and touched the cock tip to Harry's lips
again. Harry twisted his face to the other side, squealing, "No, I
won't." They repeated the sequence several times.

Tony paused and declared, "You're gonna suck my cock, or I'm gonna piss
on your face."

Again Harry squealed "No, no", and dodged the penis tip seeking his mouth.

After several tries, Tony hunched forward, rested the end of his cock on
Harry's forehead, and dribbled a small puddle of piss that trickled to
Harry's eye.

Harry began sobbing, "Moma, I want my moma."

The other two boys said they were getting out of there and ran away. Tony
had second thoughts about what he was doing and scooted away from Harry.

Harry jumped up and took off running for his house a kilometer away, and
I ran with him, my efforts to comfort him drowned out by his bawling for
his mother. I left him before he reached his house because I didn't want
to be the one telling his mother what had happened.

I tried to respect Harry for resisting Tony, but I couldn't because he'd
called for his moma, like a toddler. In his place, I'd have opened my
mouth and let the pecker in, and I would have sucked off the big uncut
cock until it squirted jism in my mouth. That would have been humiliating
with the other boys watching, but kind of sexy too. In any case, I
realized then that Harry and I were on different paths, which made it
easy to resist him later when he goaded me to join his sprees of vandalism.

For my ninth birthday my parents bought me a Gilbert chemistry set,
consisting of three hinged metal cases that stood as a unit when
unfolded. Each case had shelves brimming with laboratory equipment and
chemicals that included acids, mercury and cubes of sodium, various
poisons, and ingredients for making gunpowder and other explosives. Such
a toy is too dangerous to sell now, but I loved it, and I did most of the
experiments printed in the manual. Pop built a lab bench in my room, and
I expanded my lab to include bottles of chemicals plus beakers, flasks,
retorts, tripods, and alcohol burners.


AGE 10

I received a microscope for my tenth birthday, and a neighbor gave me
home-ground telescope lenses, and these acquisitions expanded my
interests beyond chemistry. I started electricity experiments with
half-inch glass rods for generating electrostatic charges,

At age ten I masturbated daily and looked at nearly everything with a
lustful eye, my lab being no exception. One day it dawned on me that the
glass stirring rods in my chemistry set would fit into my urethra, and
the viscous fluid that had started trickling out of my cock during my
jack-off sessions would lubricate insertion.

I made the ends of a stirring rod completely round and smooth by heating
in an alcohol lamp, following instructions in my chemistry set manual.
During my next masturbation session, with Mom out in the garden, I
cleaned the glass rod with alcohol and sat at the edge of my bed with my
pants at my knees, the glass rod in one hand, and my boner in my other
hand. I gently pushed the rod into my slippery cock hole. The smooth
glass tickled the mucous membrane deliciously. I pushed deeper, knowing
the glass rod was sturdy as long as I didn't bend it. My urethra
constricted below the entrance, so the glass rod started stretching the
duct and causing a burning sensation. The pleasant tickle still was
there, though, so I pushed on slowly. Staring down at my hairless crotch,
I could see the rod bulging the bottom of my boner as it slid deeper,
until the tip was halfway down my cock. I ended the first session there,
wanting to wait and be sure nothing was damaged.

The glass rod had chafed the mucous membranes a little, so peeing stung
slightly for a day. But that was the extent of the damage so urethral
insertions became an occasional component of my masturbation sessions.
Over time I pushed the rod to the bottom of my cock where it stopped at
the bend in the urethra going under my balls. Later I got even deeper by
lying down so the rod had a straight path beneath my balls all the way to
the next bend going up toward my bladder. I made new insertors by
switching to glass tubes and blowing a tiny bulb at the end, again
following instructions from my chemistry manual. A glass tube smaller
than my urethra with a bulb just fitting inside was a favorite, providing
a delicious tickle with hardly any sting.

I began making semen between my tenth and eleventh birthdays, and before
long I investigated that bonus of masturbation. Ejaculating into a
graduated cylinder, I found I produced one to two cubic centimeters of
the translucent stuff. That was from a boner in a hairless crotch, and
the quantity increased to three or four cc's after puberty. Ejaculating
into a test tube, I found no chemicals that reacted with jism, and
simmering the jizz over an alcohol lamp only yielded a disagreeable
boiled meat smell. I found that dogs lapped the stuff up eagerly,
followed by a funny quivering of their jaws.

I dripped a dot of my semen on a glass slide and took a look with my
microscope. Spermatozoa darted around the fluid like mosquito larva in a
rain barrel. Seeing scores or hundreds of the little wigglers, I supposed
that a single ejaculation must have thousands.

I sipped from a test tube containing my semen. The semen had a mild taste
with a potent aroma akin to ammonia or bleach. Swallowing a blob combined
a gummy coating in my throat with the pungent smell, and I gagged so
intensely that I resolved never to do that again. But I tried another
swallow a few days later, and the gag reflex was milder the second time.
On my third try the semen slid down pleasurably, and I was a semen
devotee thereafter.

Test tubes coated with Vaseline were good for anal insertions. The smooth
rounded tips provided the perfect amount of anal expansion for
titillation without pain. However, I worried about having glass in such a
sensitive spot while squatting and groping backward, so I moved on to
non-fragile objects like tool handles and vegetables when I wanted anal
pleasure.

Electroshocks with static charges in glass rods didn't hurt my hands and
arms much, so I tried them on my boner too. No pleasure resulted, but the
pain was interesting enough to garner a few repetitions.

-  -  -

One day Mom and Pop left me alone while they made a trip to a nearby town
to take care of some legal matter. I was to manage at home on my own. If
I needed help I could go to the elderly neighbors two doors down the road
who'd been notified that I would be alone but who weren't asked to check
on me. My parents were grooming me for spending a whole day on my own,
which started when I was eleven.

I'd enjoyed jack-off orgies in my room but I never got naked while Mom
was around. That day I decided to enjoy nakedness to give me complete
freedom in trying things with my boner and my asshole - things like
rubbing my boner on different surfaces, sliding it into bottle necks, and
popping greased objects through my anus.

I left our female dog outside. I brought the male dog in for company, but
he curled up and went to sleep in the kitchen. However, about an hour
into my sex session, he wandered into my room wagging his tail, looking
for a petting.

I greeted him happily, petted him, rubbed my hardon in his fur, and let
him smell my crotch. I decided to get his cock hard as part of my
personal orgy. Maybe I would even feel his boner, I thought. I'd learned
years before how to give a dog a hardon. All I had to do was get on hands
and knees and wag my butt to make the dog mount and hump me. By the time
he hopped off he'd have a big red hardon hanging down.

So I dropped to all fours in the free space beside my bed, turned my
behind toward the dog, and waggled my behind, watching him over my
shoulder, grinning about being naked, horny, and making the dog want to
fuck. My wagging ass enticed him perfectly. He hopped on my back, wrapped
his front paws around my waist, and began hunching his rear against mine.
Everything was working just like it had when I was eight and putting on a
show for my parents.

Except for one crucial difference - this time I wasn't wearing pants.
That difference jolted me as soon as the dog settled on my rear. I'd
never felt fur against my lower back and buttocks before. Then the dog
curled his forelegs around me, and I realized I'd never felt fur against
my waist and belly either. He began rapidly humping his rear end, and it
seemed far more intimate than before. Then came another sensation I'd
never felt with my pants on - his pointed cock poking at my ass and
thighs, over and over, from one spot to another as his hardon sought a
hole.

I stopped grinning when all the novel sensations dissolved my feeling of
control. This was so different from the humpings that I'd taken years
before that I decided to stop the activity. I lifted my back to loosen
the dog's grip so I could stand, and found I couldn't! Though not a big
dog, he weighed as much as I did, and he was strong and intent on keeping
me in his grip as he tried to get a fuck. I couldn't raise up, and he
kept dabbing his cock around my rear.

Then - SHIT! - the tip of his boner slipped through my anus! Immediately
it slipped out because of his frenetic humping, but I was paralyzed by
the realization that he could fuck me, he could sink his boner all the
way into my rectum while holding me tight.

The dog humped me more excitedly now with all his boner pokes focused
around my anus. Suddenly his hardon plunged deep into my rectum, and he
changed over to smooth rapid humping that stroked his cock to and fro
inside me. I was stunned, crouching on the floor, feeling his boner
moving in my rectum while his forepaws around my waist held me tight.

The dog's boner felt nicer than any object I'd inserted, but my mind
raced past my immediate pleasure. The base of his cock would swell any
minute and knot me to him. I feared that the huge swelling would tear my
body, causing pain and damage. Then an even more horrifying thought
occurred: my parents could come home anytime, walk in, see me naked on
the floor, stuck on the dog's cock, able only to stare up at them until
the dog finished with me. My envisioned humiliation roused me to action.

I struggled strenuously to escape the dog's grip and stand. I couldn't
get free. His weight, his grip, and his energy had me as helpless as that
bitch wanting to escape the dog cock that was hurting her. Urgency
changed to panic. I had to stop this before he locked in me!

I screamed at him, telling him stop, get away, bad dog. His humping
faltered, but then he continued. I was giving him more pleasure with my
ass than I was giving him worry with my voice. I had to get free before
he locked inside me. Again I tried raising my torso, and failed.
Mindlessly, I crawled forward. The dog stepped along behind me, holding
me in his grip, still humping irregularly. I was near tears, worrying
that I'd get locked to him, damaged, found by my parents. Dispirited, I
dropped my face to the floor. My new position let him pump his cock even
deeper. I gave up, and slackened my muscles in surrender.

That freed me. Dropping to the floor on my belly made him lose his grip
because I was too heavy for him to hold up. His boner slid out of my
rectum, and he scrambled around behind me. I jumped to my feet and leaped
on my bed to get away from him, overwrought with emotion - relief to have
escaped and regret that I couldn't enjoy more of his fucking. As soon as
the dog left my room I rose and dressed in case my parents arrived home.

-  -  -

Harry and I often walked in a nearby woods, and sometimes we stopped at
the farmhouse to talk to Iris, a cute girl a little younger than us, and
her brother Ken who was a bit older (they were in a different school
district). On one occasion we heard activity in the barn, and found the
two kids grooming a stallion who was tethered in the aisle. The kids
proudly showed us what they were doing, and then Ken grinned and
whispered, "Watch this!" He tickled the horse's prepuce, and out glided
the horse's black cock, about half a meter long, dangling almost to the
floor. Ken grabbed the cock and swung it around as he watched Harry and I
staring at the huge organ. I could hardly believe the thing really was a
cock, but as Ken waved it I saw the end had a big pisshole. Ken asked if
we wanted to feel the horse cock. Harry indignantly declined. I said,
"I'm scared he'll kick me or bite me." Ken said, "Nah, he's gentle, and
he can't turn his head the way he's tied. Iris likes playing with his
cock. Show them Iris." Little Iris stepped almost under the horse, lifted
the monster cock in her arms, and held it near her face as she giggled
and looked at us boys. "Cato's nice," she said, "I love him." She rubbed
her cheek on the horse's cock.

Well, I thought, if she can do that I can find out what it feels like. I
told her, "Keep holding it, Iris, while I touch it." I slipped an arm
around her waist to feel more secure, and raised a finger to touch the
big prick, reaching out cautiously. Iris twisted her body and jammed the
tip of the cock right in my face. She and her brother giggled gleefully
as I stood in a state of shock. I collected myself, grabbed the warm
spongy flesh in my free hand and twisted the flat end of it to Iris's
mouth. "There, how do you like it," I said grinning.

We heard a man's exclamation and saw the farm hand rushing through the
barn door toward us. Iris and I dropped the horse cock and stepped away
from the animal. "You kids get away from him! Don't go near Cato when
he's like that! He might trample you!" He drew up at the side of the
horse and kicked the big black cock until it drew upward and disappeared
into the prepuce.

A few weeks later Harry and I were on our way to the woods, and we came
upon Iris playing outside her house. We stopped to talk with her, and
after a while Harry convinced Iris to go walking in the woods with us. We
started out, went past the farm's cattle barn, and just as we were
entering the woods Iris stopped and said she had to go back to her house.
Harry asked why, and she said she had to go to the bathroom. Harry told
her to squat right there, and we two boys would watch that no one caught
her peeing outside. "But it's number two," she pleaded, "and I'll need
toilet paper." Harry told her we'd gather leaves that she could use
instead of toilet paper. Somewhat doubtfully Iris acquiesced, and Harry
sent me off to find the leaves. By the time I got back, Harry had
convinced Iris to remove her panties so as not to soil them.

We went in the woods to a spot where the cow barn hid us from the house,
and Iris squatted down with her dress pulled up about her waist. The cute
nine year old girl pissed on the ground as she looked at Harry and me
standing nearby watching her. A turd poked out of her bottom, and Harry
and I squatted in front of her and watched her push it out, plus another
couple. When she finished defecating she said she needed to wipe, and I
handed her the leaves. As she reached behind herself wiping, Harry rubbed
her hairless slit. "Feel it, Billy," he said to me, and I felt Iris's
moist pubes and crack. Harry took over again and told Iris he was going
to put his finger in her pussy. "No, don't," Iris said. She jumped up and
pushed her dress down. She ran back to her house, leaving her panties
laying on the ground.

On our next visit to the farm, Iris's mother came out and told us to
leave and stay away.

-  -  -

One day Harry and I bicycled to a forest preserve a couple of klicks
away. As we were exploring we discovered Brian sitting by the lake
fishing. We talked to him a few minutes, and then Harry took off to see a
wooden toboggan run, while I stayed with Brian. I asked Brian if I could
watch him jack off like he did the year before at the circle jerks. He
said okay, but only if I got rid of Harry, whom he disliked. Downcast, I
said I couldn't because Harry was my pal. I left the preserve with Harry,
knowing I'd missed a special experience sitting at Brian's side and
watching up close as his cock jetted cum.

Harry and I often rode our bikes to towns three to five kilometers away
in order to swim in municipal pools. We had good times, and I got hard
seeing men's cocks in the dressing rooms. Some of the men liked looking
at our kid cocks, too. We occasionally got propositioned with lines like,
"Want some ice cream?" We never accepted, a little wary of men who liked
little boys. However in another context I was friendlier.

When I was alone on my walk to school, I sometimes hitchhiked, and almost
always got picked up by inter-city truckers. Several truckers showed me
pornographic pictures, and while my ride was too short for actual sex to
happen, I looked at the pictures until we reached my school.

A spring morning before I turned eleven I was hitchhiking, and the
trucker who picked me up was a young guy who had porn laying on the seat
when I got in the cab. Seeing that I was interested in the pictures, he
told me to scoot close to him so he could tell me about each picture
while I looked at it. We went through some photos of men fucking women,
then photos of women cocksucking, then we came to a photo of one guy
sucking another guy's cock. "That guy's cocksucking. It's fun. You ever
do it?" I told him I'd sucked another boy's boner. "Great," he said,
"then you know how good it is. It's even better when you suck off someone
old enough to make jizz. You want to suck mine and taste jizz?" "I know
how jizz tastes 'cause I swallow my own," I said proudly. "You really
make jizz already, and eat it?" he asked, and I confirmed I did. "I bet
you want to suck me off and eat mine, right?" "I can't," I said, "I have
to get out at the next corner because that's where my school is."

Instead of stopping at the corner, the guy turned his truck into the
crossroad, drove away from my school beyond the corner buildings to a
field, and parked. That scared me and I was repeating that I had to get
to school. He pulled out his hardon and slid across the seat against me
so his boner was almost under my face. "You can take a minute to suck me
off. Then I'll drive you right up to your school if you want." I stared
at his uncircumcised hardon with the foreskin halfway down the glans, and
fluid drooling out his piss hole. All I had to do was dip my head, purse
my lips around the head, and I could be slurping up his cock juices. I
did it.

"Oh you little fuck," he said, "Suck me." I slid down on the seat and
grabbed his hardon in both my hands while I continued sucking its juices.
He put his hand in my hair and cussed while I sucked, and a minute later
he said, "I'm cumming! Drink my jizz, drink it all, you cocksucker!" My
mouth filled with slimy pungent sperm that I swallowed.

He tucked his cock away, and caught his breath. As he said "I'll take you
..." I opened the door and jumped from the cab and ran to school, my
heart racing, grinning at the wild thing I'd done, still tasting his
semen as I joined the line of kids filing into school.


AGE 11

One day Harry and I stood at my bathroom sink masturbating to see who
could shoot the furthest. Harry spattered a few drops into the sink, and
a minute later I sploshed gobs to the top of the bathroom mirror. We quit
jacking off together after that since Harry didn't like being outdone.

A few weeks later we were alone at my house, and I told Harry I wanted to
suck him off. He was hesitant, but after I begged, he said, "Okay, get on
your knees." I kneeled before him and he slowly moved his hardon toward
me. As my lips touched the glans, he pulled away, said he didn't want to,
and went home.

Another incident with Harry about the same time is memorable. We were at
my house, and Harry playfully grabbed a hat I was wearing. I chased him
until I got bored and suggested we do something else. He waved the hat
and continued to taunt me, slowly moving backward. The trouble was, he
was facing away from a large hole in the floor where Pop planned to build
a stairway to the basement. I told him to watch out for the hole. "I'm
not falling for that trick," he said, continuing to back up and wave the
hat. I said, "Really, I'm not kidding! There's a big hole in the floor
behind you." He smirked at my lame attempt to fool him, saying he knows
I'll jump him as soon as he looks backward. Now he was getting close to
the hole, and I was frightened for him. I moved to the other side of the
room, saying, "No, Harry, I'm too far away to jump you. Please stop
backing up!" I even went in the next room, and then stepped out the front
door to convince him. But he kept backing up. Suddenly his foot hit the
edge of the hole and he careened backward, smacked his shoulder on the
other edge, and disappeared into the basement. I dashed to an outside
basement entrance. I found him miraculously uninjured, though crying for
his mama. I helped him out of the basement, and he ran home crying.

-  -  -

I felt frustrated every time I looked at milky semen that I'd just
ejaculated and felt my lust to drink the jizz fade away after my orgasm.
I thought, if I could suck myself off, I'd be able to gulp jism right
when I craved it most. I tried bending forward while sitting, and that
got my tongue close to my cockhead but not touching. Wrapping my arms
around my thighs and squeezing got my face still closer to my crotch, but
then I didn't have a hand free to direct my cock to my mouth.

I found a solution one day when Mom went with Pop to the city, and I was
enjoying nude times at home. I laid on the couch and swung my feet over
my head, pressing my toes against the couch's armrest. In this position
my cock was above my face, and both my hands were free to hold my boner
and point it where I wanted. I jacked off with my boner pointing down at
my open mouth, and for the first time I drank my semen as I ejaculated it.

My quest on subsequent days was to get my cockhead into my mouth and
actually suck myself off. The solution involved the same position, except
with my head closer to the couch's armrest so that my feet could press
against the armrest and exert force to bend my back. The first time I did
this, I lessened the distance between my crotch and my face enough to
lick my pisshole and ejaculate on my tongue. I repeated every time I was
alone, and eventually I stretched my back to the point where I could
suckle my whole cockhead and ejaculate on the back of my tongue.

A couple of times I tried a variation where I sank myself crosswise into
the bathroom tub so as to bend my body enough for me to get my lips
around my cockhead. I didn't have to strain my muscles so hard with this
method, but I could feel more stress on my back, and it was difficult to
get free when I was done, so I gave up doing it that way. I continued my
couch method until one day a cartilage snapped in my back. The injury
healed on its own, but I gave up self-sucking then, when I was twelve.

-  -  -

One evening I was so horny that I begged off listening to radio programs
with my parents and said I was going to sleep. I went to my room and got
nude. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at my boner fucking
the neck of an empty reagent bottle, when I heard my father coming down
the hall. I guessed he was going to the bathroom next to my room, but to
be safe I tucked the bottle on my boner downward and squeezed my thighs
tight above it. To my astonishment and horror, my father threw open the
door and took in the sight of his eleven-year-old son sitting at the side
of his bed with his hairless crotch looking more like a girl's than a
boy's. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Getting ready for bed," I
answered, terrified that my softening cock would drop the bottle on the
wooden floor. My father stared a spell, then grinned and said, "I'd sure
like to know what you were doing." He closed the door, and I quickly
returned the bottle to the lab bench. I felt obligated to turn out the
light and actually go to bed early.

My father kept a pack of porno pictures in a desk at the front of his
rock shop, and I liked to examine them while masturbating. One Saturday
about a year after I discovered the pictures, I was sitting in the desk
chair while my father pottered around and took little swigs of whiskey in
one of his rare toots. I tensed when he opened the desk drawer, afraid he
would discover that I trespassed with his porno stash. He pulled out the
pack of photos, stripped off the rubber band, and began looking through
them, tossing pictures on the desk as he finished with them. His boner
tented his pants.

He said, "You can look at these. See what sex is about." Not wanting to
give away how sex-obsessed I was, I answered, "No, that's alright. I
don't want to see." Apparently my prissiness put him on the defensive,
and he explained that he was given the photos by Charlie, the elevator
operator at one of the buildings he frequented in his latest job and whom
I'd met while accompanying my father one summer day. "Charlie gives me
this stuff, and I take it to make him happy. There's more over here."

Pop turned to a bookcase next to the desk that contained his books on
business. He brought out a couple of 16-page cartoon books and a
pornographic MERRY-CHRISTMAS card. One of the Tijuana Bibles showed rough
drawings of Olive Oyl fucking and sucking Popeye, which didn't interest
me. The other was roughly drawn too, but it showed Blondie fucking a huge
dog, and that grabbed my attention as I remembered our male dog doing the
same to me. I leafed through the booklet, thinking "Wow! People really do
this. I'm not as weird as I thought."

Pop noticed my interest in the bestiality comic and said, "Some gals like
fucking a dog. I'd sure like to see that sometime." He stared wistfully
out the window and said, "Doreen wanted more fucking than I could give
her." "My real mother? Did she do it with other men?" "Yep. Lots of
peckers fucked her. I really loved her, so I told her, fuck all the cocks
you want, just don't get pregnant."

I blurted out, "No wonder I ..." and caught myself. "No wonder you what?"
Pop asked. I didn't want to tell him that I was sex crazy just like my
real mother, and especially I didn't want to tell him how close he came
to seeing a dog fuck me. "Uh, nothing," I said.

I tossed the bestiality comic on the desk and picked up the
MERRY-CHRISTMAS card. Each letter was comprised of fucking and sucking
nudes expertly sketched, and the different letters featured both hetero
and homosexual acts. Some letters showed boys and girls even younger than
me sucking adult cocks and being fucked.

I held up the card and said to Pop, "This shows kids doing sex things
with grownups." Pop took the card and examined it. He grinned at me and
said, "Yep, a merry Christmas for the whole family." I felt my boner
flex. I looked at Pop's crotch and saw his boner still tented out his
pants, and cock juices had made a wet spot too.

I pointed to the card and said, "Do people really do that with kids? This
girl looks only six or seven years old, and the man is fucking her." I
held my breath because that was the first time I'd said "fuck" in front
of Pop, but he didn't even notice. "It happens, Billy." He paused, lost
in thought. He smiled and continued. "Charlie's always telling me about
sex with kids, and he has photos of kids doing those things with men - he
showed them to me. But I don't know much about it other than that." He
grinned at me. "Want me to drop you off with Charlie some time so he can
teach you?"

Though Pop made the suggestion in jest, I considered it seriously.
Charlie was old - about sixty - so he was not someone I wanted to spend
time with, but he could tell me all about sex - even kid sex - and show
me pictures. I remembered the time I'd visited the basement of Charlie's
building and used the weird toilet raised on a platform without any
walls, with Charlie's office space beside it. He had a big desk and now I
guessed the desk drawers were packed with sex stuff.

"Maybe," I said. Pop looked shocked. "Billy, he'd want sex with you. I'm
damned sure he'd try to suck your pecker." I shrugged, thinking that made
it sound better yet.

Pop said, "Son, I'm hot as hell, and I gotta cum, so leave now if you
want. Or stay and jack off if you want - I see you got a hardon too.
Either way's okay with me." I knew I'd end up sucking off Pop if I
stayed, and that seemed a step too far, so I left.

-  -  -

One day I was horny and needed to jack off while Mom was housekeeping
around my bedroom. I went outside to an unused poultry coop where I'd
played over the years and crawled through its small doorway. The low roof
cramped me more than in the past because I'd grown, but I managed to sit
against the back wall where I could look out the doorway and see if Mom
was approaching. I stripped my jeans and underwear down to my ankles, and
began sliding my boner in my fist, lubricated by the plentiful glair
pouring from my cock.

A head poking through the doorway startled me. It was our female dog
checking where I'd gone. I didn't encourage her company, but she came in
wagging her tail and licking my legs and face. She found my cock covered
in juices, and got engrossed in licking up the goo. Another head peeked
through the doorway, the male dog. He too came in to see what treat the
female dog had found.

I felt a bit sour with myself for letting dogs lick my boner and balls,
yet their tongues felt gritty, hot, and stimulating, so I let them
continue. Soon my ejaculation began. I held my boner upright so the dogs
would catch my cum, and they gobbled jizz like ice cream, not letting any
of the spurts fall to my crotch. Afterwards they lowered their heads and
quivered their jaws.

A few months later, on a hot summer day, I lay naked on my bed. Mom was
in the city, and I was alone for the day having one of my sex fests.
Lazily I stared at my boner as I stroked it and caught drops of cock
juice for tasting. I'd had my first cum of the day an hour or so earlier,
and now I was working toward a second.

Black houseflies had gotten past the screens and buzzed around inside.
The smell of my jizzy cock attracted them. They flew closer and closer
until I had to wave them away with my hand. Still they kept returning,
closer and closer to my cock, even trying to land on it. How annoying:
bugs interrupting my sexual pleasures.

Then I wondered what it would feel like if they did land on my cock. I
pushed my drooling boner upright and stopped shooing the flies away. One
fly, two, three landed on my glans and crawled around, their proboscises
dunking into the gooey cock juice and left-over sperm on my boner's
swollen helmet. Their light padding tickled, and the sight of insects
teeming on my cock caused a wicked thrill. However, the excitement soon
dimmed. I swatted them away, arose, and washed up.

-  -  -

The highway that we kids walked along to school had a motel catering to
prostitutes and their customers. The units were built in a row with a
covered garage beside each cabin, and the entrance to each cabin was
inside its garage. According to scuttlebutt, a car would drive up to the
office, the girl would go in to pay and get the key, and when she
returned to the car the guy would drive into the garage of the rented
unit and enter the cabin with the girl without anyone ever seeing him.
Solicitation took place at a race track 15 kilometers away.

Other than gossiping and giggling about the place, we kids ignored the
motel since the real action there took place hours after we passed on our
way home. Then one day the place swarmed with police, and a few days
later the proprietress beckoned us kids to detour from our walk home and
see what the fuss had been. She was excited to have her motel in the
spotlight, and she served us cookies and soft drinks before taking us to
see unit seven - the scene of a murder! Inside the cabin we saw the
bullet-holes a Tommy gun had sprayed over the walls during the gang
slaying. The girl had not been harmed because the assailants waited until
she slipped out to the car to get something.

Most of us kids were a bit frightened by the scene, but Harry was agog
with interest, fascinated by rough play in the underworld. That turned
out to be ironic since he himself ended up a similar victim of murder,
ending his adult career as a professional criminal.

I had to cut through fields to get to the highway, and one field I used
only rarely was the back lot of the motel. One day after the murder I
decided to take that shortcut, and I came upon a pile of used condoms
knee high and half a meter across hidden among weeds. The condoms at the
bottom were old, yellow, and disintegrating. The ones at the top were
fresh - some tied shut, others leaking semen to the pile below. Being a
semen junkie, I nearly picked up one to suck out its contents before a
second thought came to me - guys fucking whores used condoms because of
the risk of disease. The thought of VD germs swimming among the
spermatozoa made me hurry away from the pile, and I never re-visited it.

AGE 12

As short hairs began circling my cock, my sex fantasies turned more to
girls, based largely on shared capers with Harry, first with Iris, and
then with girls at our school.

Kids in the higher grades at our school had desks toward the back of the
room, and we were free to use the toilet or go to the water fountain in
the back hall without getting the teacher's permission, as long as we
kept quiet. One day I slipped to the back hall, turned toward the
fountain, and pulled up stunned at seeing Harry and Joanne huddled by the
fountain, out of sight of anyone in the classroom.

Joanne was the only girl among us four eighth graders - a petite girl
with a plain face and a friendly way. When she was ten she'd put on strip
shows inside a storage shed at one corner of the school yard, taking off
her clothes and holding her pussy open, while all the boys who wanted to
see huddled on the outside looking through cracks in the shed's siding.
Now here she was, standing with Harry, happy about him having one hand up
her blouse feeling her tits, and his other hand under her skirt groping
her crotch.

Harry shushed me. He whispered, "Come over here and feel Joanne's tits
while I get her panties off. We're gonna fuck." Joanne smiled at me, and
I snuggled up to her as Harry squatted and popped his head under her
skirt to get her panties off.

Joanne whispered, "Feel my boobies, Bill. They're getting big." I thrust
my hand under the bottom of her blouse to her bra-less tits. She was
right, her breasts had grown to soft handfuls with firm nipples at the
ends. I groped her while she lifted one foot then the other helping Harry
get her panties off.

Harry popped up beside us and handed Joanne her panties which she tucked
in a skirt pocket. Harry unzipped his fly and pulled out his boner, and
Joanne lifted her skirt above her crotch. Harry guided his cock between
her legs, and Joanne hitched a leg to help, then sighed as his cock slid
into her vagina. She put her arms around his neck drawing his head down,
and they kissed as Harry pumped her, the two of them completely ignoring
me standing beside them watching. A minute later Harry pumped faster and
breathed harder. Joanne whimpered while he came.

Harry got his cock tucked away and said he'd leave first. When he was
gone, I moved on Joanne hoping to fuck her myself. She held me off,
whispering, "I've got to get back. I've been out too long." "At least let
me feel your pussy," I whispered. "Okay," she answered pulling up her
skirt. I touched between her thighs, felt her small bush, then the
soaking wet swollen cuntlips between her outer labia. She pushed me back,
slipped around me as she smoothed her skirt down, and then she too
slipped into to the schoolroom. Alone in the back hall by the fountain, I
smelled my fingers and detected sperm and the something-else of her cunt.
I sucked my fingers clean.

I glanced at Joanne the rest of the morning, thinking about her sitting
at her desk without panties and her cunt full of Harry's sperm.
Occasionally she glanced over at me with a naughty little smile, as if
she'd be happy for me to fuck her too. However, that was the last sexual
encounter I had with Joanne.

Going home that day Harry told me he'd been fucking Joanne for more than
a year, but she would only let him fuck her on certain days - her method
of birth control. She was his first, but he made rapid progress after
her, and I got to share his high-jinks with two other girls.

One day Harry and I were walking home with Edna, who lived with her
mother in a house near Harry's. Harry was 13, I was 12, and Edna was only
10, three grades behind us. I'd told Harry that my Mom was in the city
that day, so Harry convinced Edna to come with us to my place to play for
a while. She was thrilled to play with boys so much older than she was.

Pop had made a small haystack from grass cuttings, and we decided to play
king-of-the-mountain on it. Harry had me go first, and he taught Edna his
special rules as the two of them wrestled me from the top. Most important
was tackling rulers to bring them down on the hay, and then tickling them
everywhere until they said uncle. When I fell, Harry demonstrated,
showing Edna how he focused his tickling on my crotch, and then he got
Edna to do it too, making sure she felt my boner in my pants. I said
uncle to move things along, and Harry took the top. I took him down, sat
on his chest, and told Edna to tickle his crotch and make him say uncle.
She nipped her hands at his crotch, and I told her to work on the hard
thing because that's where he was most ticklish. She gave me a doubtful
look, but I encouraged her, "Go on, make him say uncle!" Little Edna
grabbed and pinched Harry's boner - maybe the first one she'd ever felt -
until he shouted uncle just to make her queen of the mountain.

The cute little blond stood atop the hay pile awaiting our attacks. She
wore a skirt and blouse and walking shoes with bobby socks. Harry
motioned me to feint toward her while he crept behind. He rushed up,
grabbed her round the waist, and fell with her to the hay. Her skirt
flitted up, her legs flew apart, and I flopped between them, attacking
her pantied belly with my fingers. She began laughing hysterically, even
when I moved one hand into her crotch and tickled her panty-covered pussy.

Harry said, "You hold her. I'll make her say uncle." I moved around and
held down her shoulders while Harry wiggled round beside her hips. He
hardly bothered with tickling, moving directly to pulling her panties
half way down her thighs. Edna still was laughing so hard she didn't
realize what was happening. With her panties down, Harry began massaging
her twat, and her giggling lessened as her eyes grew wider. Harry wet a
finger in his mouth and stuck it in Edna's vagina.

Suddenly Edna became a hellcat, yelling "No! No! Let me go!" Her fists
pounding my face made me move back. She sat up and gave Harry the same
treatment until he too backed away. She pulled her panties up, jumped to
her feet, and ran. A stone's throw away, she turned her head while still
running, and yelled, "You pigs! You're awful boys!" She was gone, and she
never talked to me again.

Another incident involved Harry and Carol. Carol was a 13-year-old in
seventh grade. Behind a year in school and with a horsey face, she seemed
not to have a lot going for her, but her smile was bright even if it was
big-toothed, and her Norwegian-immigrant parents had brought her up with
a sweet disposition.

One morning torrential rain caused the mid-morning recess at our school
to be called off. Lunch break was approaching, and Mrs. Usher knew that
the 35 kids in the school had to let off steam somehow, even if they
couldn't go outside. She called me up to her desk, and instructed me to
go downstairs and sweep the basement floor clean, so groups of kids could
take turns running around down there during the lunch hour. The basement
was large and empty, except for posts in the middle and a furnace in one
corner, and well lit by a line of high windows along one side.

I wished the maintenance guy would do the sweeping instead of me, but he
worked elsewhere during the day, so I had the job. I tidied my desk and
went to the back hall, past the water fountain, and down the stairs.
Dawdling the way I was, I made little noise as I moved to the entrance of
the big one-room basement.

Harry and Carol were under the windows, close by the entrance, unaware of
me. Harry leaned against the wall with his hardon jutting upward from his
fly. Carole squatted in front of him, engrossed by his prick. Harry was
motionless, except for the throbbing of his prick, watching Carol stare
at his boner. It had been a while since I'd seen it, and I was impressed
- his cock was half again thicker and longer than mine, and his
circumcision was so extreme that the skin on his shaft stretched tight
and his urethra gaped open like a fish mouth.

Something made Harry look up at me, and Carol's gaze followed his. Her
face reddened, and she began to rise.

Harry placed a palm on her head to keep her down and reassured her. "It's
okay, Carol. Bill won't tell anyone. He and I are buddies. It's better
that he's here because he'll warn us if anyone else is coming. Bill, be
our lookout, will you?"

"Sure. This spot's good," I said, moving back a few inches in the doorway
and looking up. "I can see people in the back hall before they see me."

"Okay. Carol going to suck me off - that's why we're down here."

Carol blushed even redder. I said, "Neat. You give me a boner too, Carol."

She couldn't stop blushing, but she beamed her fetching smile at me.

"Come on Carol, you better start." Harry pressed his boner down to her
lips. Still blushing like a lobster, she opened and took half of it in
her mouth. She blocked me out by closing her eyes, and with obvious
pleasure she orally ravished Harry's hardon. In a minute he began pumping
his hips, then he hunched over and grunted, and he came in her mouth.

He waved me over. I got out my boner and went to them. As Harry drew his
cock from Carol's mouth he said, "Hey Carol, suck off Bill too, will you?
Bill's my best friend."

She opened her eyes and looked up into mine, then down at my drooling
hardon. I pushed my cock to her mouth. She took it in and closed her eyes
again. My lust and her hot mouth made me fill her mouth with cum before
Harry was up the stairs. As soon as I pulled away, she jumped up and
dashed after Harry without a word to me.

I felt even less like cleaning the basement after orgasming, but I got it
done.

That was during my final year in grade school, when Harry and I were
drifting in separate directions. However, because of our shared intimacy
with Carol, Harry kept me up to date on his progress with her. A couple
of weeks later he reported that he'd ridden his bike to her house after
school and fucked Carol in the family's barn, up in the hayloft. Then a
couple of months later, he said Carol's little sister Janet had caught
them fucking, and Janet insisted on Harry fucking her too. Janet was
eleven and in contrast to her older sister was a Scandinavian cutie.
Imagining Janet as my first fuck, I regretted not being Harry's chum any
more.

In eighth grade Harry began engaging in heavy vandalism and had run-ins
with the law. Meanwhile, I began hanging out with my other male
classmate, a boy who lived about a 20-minute bike ride away from my
house. He appreciated my science interests, and was a core member of my
peer group in high school.

-  -  -

After I gave up self-sucking I was back with the big problem in eating
your own semen - orgasm squelches desire to guzzle the stuff, just when a
fresh portion is available. I ejaculated into a test tube and stored the
jism in a test tube rack until my libido rose again, but that had to be
no more than a few hours or the goo would go stale and smell fetid. Then
I figured out a different solution than self-sucking. I took over a
rarely used ice cube tray, and froze my semen into cubes that could be
melted into the elixir I craved when I was horny. The taste survived
pretty well, so I decided to save up a whole tray full of jism cubes for
a binge where I'd have a full cup of warm cum to drink.

Mom interrupted the plan when the tray was half full. With an odd smile
and a twinkle in her eye, she asked what I'd been keeping in the freezer.
I blushed and said, "Oh nothing, just a chemistry experiment." She
apologized and explained that she'd discarded the cubes and washed the
tray. I mumbled okay and fled the embarrassing situation. I wondered
though what her odd smile meant. I guessed she knew what the cubes were,
and that might mean she'd tasted them. Also it was unusual for her to
take something of mine without asking, so I fantasied that she'd usurped
the fun I'd planned for myself - melting and drinking half a cup of boy
jism.

Mom still was giving me enemas every few months when I was twelve. Even
after we moved to our permanent house, Mom stayed with the ritual she
started in our shanty-home. Enemas happened in the basement, beside the
furnace, lit by a bare light bulb overhead shining among spider webs
between the joists, the enema bag hanging from a nail in an overhead
beam, with expulsion into a 15-liter pail - never mind the bathroom
upstairs. On my last enema, as I stood without pants, bent over in front
of Mom, I recognized how sexual our enema scene was. I was showing Mom my
asshole and my balls, and she was going to slide things through my
asshole - something I did for pleasure. I even was looking forward to the
kinky pleasure-pain of having my guts swollen with hot soapy water. My
cock reacted to my thoughts and swelled into a boner.

Mom's finger, coated in cold creme, began circling my anus. As usual, she
did the job leisurely, going round and round, and occasionally stroking
across the hole. My boner stiffened, pulsing with my heartbeat.

Bent over with my elbows on my knees I stared at my throbbing hardon and
saw cockjuice drooling. I couldn't let it drip to the concrete floor so
that Mom knew I was aroused. Stealthily I angled one hand back and swiped
the cockjuice on my fingers. The only way to dispose of it was to suck it
off, and I did. Mom kept rubbing my asshole until there was another glob
of cockjuice, and I swallowed it too.

Mom's finger withdrew for more cold creme, touched my anus again, and
gently pushed through. I must have moaned because she asked, "Am I
hurting you?" "No Mom, it's okay." Her finger went deeper, and deeper. I
began feeling woozy with pleasure. I cupped the drooling glans of my cock
in my palm. Her finger drew out, and thrust in, and she waggled her
fingertip over my prostate.

I orgasmed. I forced myself to keep silent even as the upper half of my
head vibrated electrically and semen gushed from my cock into my palm. I
ejaculated as much jizz as my hand could hold, but Mom's finger moving in
my rectum kept my orgasm going, and I kept spurting more. I whisked my
other hand back to catch the rest. Finally it stopped. I nearly fainted
with post-orgasm languor.

Mom's finger still stroked through my asshole, lubricating me for my
enema. She hadn't noticed what happened to me.

Two palms gooey with semen. I had to get rid of it, and the only way was
to lick it up. I did even though I had no appetite for it and it made me
slightly nauseous. Mom's finger in my ass began annoying me. I remembered
she was preparing me for a belly full of hot soapy water, and now that
prospect seemed disagreeable. I staged a tantrum, yelling I didn't want
to do this anymore. Mom backed off, and never suggested an enema again.

A year before, Mom had started sauntering around the house naked most
mornings after Pop left for work. She said she liked being naked, and it
was educational for me to see a naked female. Her figure was good - slim
with full bouncy breasts and protruding nipples. She had a dense black
bush in her crotch with no hair straying to her belly and thighs. For my
part, I matched her by walking around half naked in underwear. I would
just as soon have been naked too, like I was when she went to the city,
but I knew I'd usually have a hardon sticking up, and I was too shy to
take that step with Mom.

On cold winter mornings we took turns hovering over the grate pouring
heat up from the furnace. Typically each of us stood a while and then
rested by squatting over the grate and leaning against the wall. She
didn't mind me sitting in an easy-chair in front of her while she
squatted naked over the grate, the two of us conversing. Of course I
stole glances at the black bush of hair at the apex of her parted thighs,
but could make out little of her cunt.

One morning I was incredibly horny and desperate to have some sort of sex
with her. I turned the conversation to the topic of sex education and my
complete ignorance of female anatomy. Tentatively, apprehensively, I
wondered if she would show me what I needed to know. She paused, then
brightly she guessed it would be alright if she laid on the dining room
table with a towel over her middle and explained what was underneath. A
suave boy would have accepted her offer and been fucking her within the
hour. But not me. I thought the towel idea was treating me like a
schoolboy, and my frustration about that, combined with my guilt about
wanting to fuck her, put me into a pique. I complained that wouldn't do
and went to my room in a huff.

-  -  -

When I was twelve the neighbor who had given me telescope lenses gave me
a home-made transformer for generating a variety of electrical voltages
from line current. One day when Mom left me alone for a day, I wrapped a
wire around the base of my cock and touched the glans with a second wire
from the box. A current of 60 volts hurt! 20V produced an interesting
pain like the electrostatic rod but with an extra buzz from the AC
current. Sticking with 20V, I tried touching the second electrode at
various places on my cock, down my urethra, and on my scrotum, and also I
tried an electrode in my asshole and another in my urethra. I stopped
these activities after a few episodes because I'd read just enough about
electricity to worry that I was getting too much amperage for the safety
of my precious orgasm centers. I'd been driven by curiosity rather than
masochism so it was easy to quit.

My father only moonlighted as a rock dealer, but he built his rock
business enough to hire a part time worker for a while. The young man was
pleasant and worked conscientiously. However, soon after he took the job,
I found a bottle of cheap wine hidden among the rock cases, and I decided
to punish our employee for sneaking booze on the job. I unscrewed the
cap, slavered over the neck of the wine bottle, and slid it up my ass,
doing some deep thrusting while I masturbated. As I recapped the bottle,
I saw smears of shit caught in the bottle's glass threads and a small
piece of shit floating in the wine. I returned the bottle to its hidding
place with self-righteous satisfaction, knowing that the young fellow was
going to get some shit over his dereliction of duty, even if he didn't
know it. A couple of Saturdays later, my father and I were working in the
shop. On a break he fetched the wine bottle and removed the cap while we
talked. I nearly yelled, "No, don't." He took a swig, and put the bottle
back. I smiled inwardly thinking that now my father was more intimate
with me than he knew.

-  -  -  -  -  -

Apreciations welcome. williedo@sigaint.org

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