Debonair

Carnal Winter

Starting at the age of nine, I woke up with an erection. The awkward situation got my adrenaline pumping. I jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom on tiptoe, hoping no one would see me. Behind the locked door, my nerves settled down. I heaved a sigh of relief and took off my flannel PJs. A bit of sticky substance always shone in the crotch and I threw the nightwear into the laundry basket.

Of course, the cause of my little penis' rigidity intrigued me. I did not know anything about sexuality. Having only proper friends and living in an isolated Nordic town, there was no source of information to explain the physical urges I was experiencing. My mind was as pure as virgin snow. On top of this, our family adhered to religious censorship. My mother – a furious Catholic practitioner – condemned all 'bad' words or anything that remotely seemed like a sin. She forced me to wear a silver chain around my neck with a tiny wooden cross. And though my father was more open, he complied with the rules of her dictatorship.

Every morning, approaching the toilet, I managed to pee despite the stiff resolute of my weenie. Afterwards, the need to masturbate precipitated my actions. I'd found the only way to soften my pecker was to beat it mercilessly. With nimble fingers, I fondled the rubbery peg faster and faster. The foreskin moved back and forth on the small pink head. But the demon of my urges demanded more and I tugged on my penis roughly with one hand while I rubbed my bare butt with the other.

Playing with my sinful parts certainly made me feel naughty, in a delicious way. It was thrilling not to be the good little blond boy that everyone thought I was. Soon, my legs were shaking. At the ultimate summit of sexual tension, I could not delay the detonation of the mysterious lightning. My head became heavy as a rock and tilted back. My buttocks contracted. Wonderful jolts of pleasure electrified my young body.

- = -

Solitary by nature, a loyal dog played the role of best friend in my life. The only living being that was dear to me. I had grown up with the beast since my toddler years. The chocolate Labrador, named Elvis, weighed heavier than me. Even after my ninth birthday, the hefty Lab had fifteen pounds [7 kg] on me. Because of my inability to control it, one could say that Elvis was the 'master' in our relationship. When he jumped in my arms to lick my face, I fell on my back, a victim of my delicate constitution. Despite being an active boy and participating in sports, I was a skinny thing, with a thin face veiled in golden blond hair parted in the middle.

Elvis never left my side. I spent hours playing with him in our yard or walking him around town, even if there was a snow storm. His paws would get crusted with ice and snow. My mother yelled when I went back inside. "Get that mutt in the bathtub and wait 'til it all melts! It's gonna dirty up the carpet."

I obeyed as always and tried to keep Elvis calm long enough for his paws to be presentable. At least once a day, I took off all my clothes and joined him for a bath. Elvis enjoyed having me naked with him in sudsy water. His tails wagged frenetically. I used a wash rag to apply the shampoo to his fur and ensure he was the most beautiful dog in the world.

During the meticulous cleaning of his balls, his canine sex came out of its hairy sheath every time. I inspected the strange organ to satisfy my childish curiosity. The ugly thing looked like a meaty purple sausage. It didn't take long before Elvis grabbed hold of my legs and humped it. With great efforts, I escaped his grasp, giggling. Having been rudely attacked this way many times and ignorant of the mechanics of reproduction, I decide one day to solicit answers from my father, counting on his occasional sincerity.

"Uh daddy, why is Elvis rubbing his doggy penis on me?"

"He thinks you're a girl-dog," my father replied. "It's his way to fu—"

"Stop, Joe!" my mother interrupted the sentence, frowning.

I realized then that doggy dicks were as much taboo as my little worm.

- = -

By getting the friendly pet, my parents could not have imagined how it was going to be at the heart of my sexual development. One evening I could not sleep and decided to read a comic book. Elvis was restless too. He circled the mattress, his tail raised up and his gaze haggard. He scratched my arm and his muzzle sniffed between my thighs. As I often did, I lowered my PJ pants and raised my butt to keep him occupied. The sensation of his big wet nose poking back there always made me feel good. Elvis usually explored for a while and started licking the crack of my small ass. His tongue went from my balls to my little hole again and again. Waves of voluptuous shivers ran through my body.

That evening, Elvis climbed on my back and began sliding his turgid dick between my buns. Absorbed in my reading, I didn't pay much attention to him until he invited himself into my most intimate opening. My eyes left the colored drawings. I stifled a cry of pain in the pillow, not wanting to alert my parents watching TV downstairs. Already, Elvis was gripping my rib cage and pushing his rigid cock inside of me.

I squirmed a bit then ceased trying to evade him, knowing the strength of my companion. Instead, I chose to be as quiet as possible. The prospect of my parents coming up the stairs and finding me in such a position made my pulse race. The most embarrassing aspect of it was that I was getting dominated by my own dog.

After a minute, the pain subsided. I could feel my butt hole loosen up to accommodate him. My little penis had never been so stiff. But the more Elvis copulated vigorously, the more the bestial act dazed me. My arms could hardly bear his weight on my back. Meanwhile, Elvis was squealing and whining.

"Shhhh, please don't make a sound," I begged. "Mom and dad are gonna hear us!"

His hard flesh started to stab inside me in frantic intromissions. Horrified yet excited, I often turned my head to look at this bloated mass buried in my poop hole. A trickle of drool ran down my neck and the stench of dog in heat invaded my nostrils. Nevertheless, the pleasure of this forced union was like I'd never felt before.

Suddenly, Elvis stopped humping my butt. I felt his member swell cruelly in my little anus. Squirts of hot juice exploded in my bowel. The response of my febrile body was instantaneous. My legs trembled and my toes curled up from a thunderous orgasm. Elvis withdrew from my entrails in one painful pull while I was still cumming. I did not really know what had happened. And it was only years later that I fully understood the shameful truth: I had lost my cherry to a dog at the age of nine.

- = -

Following this incident, the desire to play with my body and other boys' bodies intensified. I became a compulsive masturbator. Four or five times a day, I found a hiding place to jerk off, unaware that the frequency of my absences would cause concern. My mother caught me one day in the garden shed, with my snow suit around my ankles and my hand around my boner. The little cross on my chest was waddling to the rhythm of my youthful ardor. A shrill cry of shock rang out of her mouth.

"You are defiling your body!" she said, slapping my head. "Never do this again or you will go to hell!"

The next day, she sent me to confession with Father Henry. This did not prove enough to reassure her. For some reason, she got in her head that I should go through a process of sanitation of my perfidious soul. She threatened to keep me from going on the school ski trip if I wasn't a good Christian boy. So, every Saturday morning, I attended a catechesis class at church and confessed my sins of the moment. My mother was jubilant when I came back home announcing that I had been granted absolution.

These weekly classes were not so bad after all. There were other children my age there. Father Henry was an affable and playful young priest. He engaged in long snowball fights with kids and did everything to make religion attractive. The young man of twenty five looked pretty good in a black robe. He had wavy red hair, deep gray eyes and the smile of someone who genuinely cares about others.

I found it easy to confide in Father Henry. Sitting on the bench of the confessional, I revealed my most private secrets. Nearly every week, he specifically wanted me to recount the story of my canine rape. With my squeaky prepubescent voice I attempted to evoke the confusing emotions of being assaulted sexually by my best friend.

"… my jammies were down and Elvis was licking my but—"

"Do you like it when your dog does that to you?"

"Yes, it feels good. But then he got on my back and you know…"

"…and what? Tell me everything, my angel, tell me in details what happened…" he insisted.

Through the screen of the confessional booth, I could see he was pulling up his cassock. He didn't think I could see it. But his hard-on almost glowed in the darkness because it was very white. From the corner of my eye, I watched him stroke his erection listening to my innocent description of the savage anal assault.

Assuredly, I must have sounded like a perverted little sex freak, every week talking about masturbation, what I did with other boys and how much I had enjoyed being raped by my dog. The ecclesiastical fortitude of the man dwindled. Father Henry could not resist the temptation. Moreover, this divine permission that allowed me to do anything and be pardoned made of me a malleable child.

Father Henry began to put his hands down my undies and fiddle my boner. Then he showed me how to do a hand job and how to give a decent blowjob. These sex lessons enlivened me since I'd been raised in total disapproval of physical delights.

Father Henry did not skimp on caresses and tender kisses. My little naked body felt so alive in his strong arms. He overheated quickly after so many years of chastity. When I sucked his cock, it only took two minutes until it erupted. The flow of thick cream gushed in my mouth. I backed away and got the rest of his sauce all over my face.

After he'd cleaned me up, we both knelt and implored baby Jesus for forgiveness in order to atone for our carnal sin. I recited the prayers that Father Henry whispered to me word for word while the salty taste of his sperm still lingered on my taste buds.

- = -

Every Saturday morning, I put on my boots, snow suit and woolen hat to go to church, my heart thumping at the thought of enjoying other physical pleasures. After the catechesis class, Father Henry took me away from the other children of the group and discreetly guided me to his room at the back of the presbytery. He summarized an episode of the Bible so that I could have something to say to my mother if she ever questioned me. Then he undressed me, whispering in my ear that I was a special little boy but I could never tell anyone what was going on between us.

This precaution was unnecessary since I knew everything that involved removing your underwear was abject and should be kept for oneself. And doing forbidden things with an adult filled me with immense pride. I absolutely did not want to spoil these times of happiness by being too talkative.

Over the weeks, the sex with Father Henry lasted longer and became immoderate, going all the way to anal. He let me sit on his big cock. I could control the rate and intensity of the pain. I also liked being perched on him, my bare feet on his knees, elbows on his shoulders, my face beaming. While I rode his cock, his warm hands caressed my stomach and thighs. His fingers went down to cup my smooth little balls and tug on my stiffy. I trembled, whimpering with joy, cumming hard impaled on his cock.

If the priest suffered bouts of guilt, the man under the robe certainly had no shame in using a nine-year-old boy as a sex toy. During a blowjob, he rubbed his cock on my face, stuffed it in the back of my mouth and watched me with burning lust in his eyes. "Oh yes, bob your head, suck my cock, Ohhhh, that's so good, suck it, yes suck that big cock…"

Kneeling in front of him, Father Henry's prick seemed gigantic, especially since he shaved his pubes bald, which gave the illusion it was longer than seven inches. When I saw it up close, it stunned me that the large mushroom head, as big as a plum, could get into my tiny rectal opening, a stupefaction often renewed because Father Henry loved to fuck my little butt, probably because I did not fight him and cooed like a happy pigeon the whole time.

After I'd gotten used to it, he usually took me from behind on his bed. Both hands clutching my shoulders, he held me down, submitting me to his unbridled fervor. It reminded me somewhat of that first time with Elvis, but the man's fat cock definitely stretched my asshole much more. I grunted and was shaken every time his hips collided violently with my bony ass. The smacking noise echoed in the room and I could feel his large balls bouncing off my cheeks.

Despite the brutality, I found pleasure in getting fucked; from the actual intercourse and also thinking about my mother who believed I was learning virtue when it was the opposite. When Father Henry's pulsing penis poured a hot torrent of semen into my rectum, I immediately had a dry orgasm and yelped. The young man groaned like an engine behind me.

"Ohhhhh Yessss, dear God!" he exclaimed, filling me up with his cum.

For the entire winter, I was the confidential lover of Father Henry before he was transferred to another parish. I felt sad seeing the only person I could tell everything disappear from my life. The only one who did not condemn anything I said or did.

A decade later, I was old enough to know that Father Henry had taken advantage of my gullibility to realize all his repressed fantasies. He had pissed in my mouth, stuck his cock down my throat and made me swallow his load on many occasions. He had sodomized me at least fifty times in all imaginable positions. But, I did not hold a grudge against him. It could not be otherwise since I was voluntary.

Around the same period, I learned that he had defrocked shortly after his departure from our parish. Surely I was the cause of his turnaround. Faith isn't that appealing once you've experienced the bliss of fucking a little blond boy.

The End