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Subject: How I Fell In Love (With My Asshole) Paul and I are lovers. We met when freshmen in college. One night in the dorm he told me this story. How I Fell In Love (With My Asshole) I was 12 years old. I was in Boy Scouts. I was a nice American boy made from genes passed to me by my English and Norwegian grandparents. Back then, approaching my teenage years, I was a slender city youth with square shoulders, a small waist, and good posture. Soon to be a teenager, I began to pay more attention to physical things about myself and those around me, especially the boys. The attractive boys I noticed became models for my own growing aware personality. My main identity started to settle itself on my looks, and my body. I was often told how cute I looked by relatives and girls at school. My bedroom mirror agreed. When I turned sideways I seemed to notice for the first time how very round and muscular my ass appeared. It made me get erect. I began to choose my cloths myself now, more with an eye to their stylishness, placing extra attention on their fit. I choose jeans that were the skinniest I could squeeze into, pleased the way they molded around my ass, fitting my crotch so well with a noticeable bump there. My mother didn’t like it. I was a typical young boy on the scene, aware of my body and dick like I hadn’t before; aware more of the sexiness of daily life, the sexuality of my friends and aroused by it. I was often told I was cute. Cute was ok, cute was nice. Certainly it got the attention of the girls at school. And maybe boys? Or men? I learned there were men, and maybe women, who liked boys. Liked young boys sexually. They were called pedophiles. They would like my blue eyes, my long dark lashes, my smell of soap, the scent of my unwashed underwear, my dimpled smile best of all. Paul, that’s me. I was eighty-six darling pounds of boy, a sperm magnetic for the lurking pedophiles far closer to me than I or my parents could guess. I beguiled the grownups more than I knew. At age 5 I discovered the thing between my legs had uses other than pissing, and it delighted. Amazing the way it got hard! And if I touched it, played with it long enough, sugary-sparkly things happened down there. From age five on I played the touchy game so often my parents got a bit concerned. Just a bit worried. They loved me as parents tend to do, with just a tiny bit of half-hidden overtone of sexiness mixed in. At age 8 during sleep over told my best friend what could happen if you played with it, so, lying next to each other, we made the sparks together. We did that often. Then a classmate at school told us some other interesting things boys could do beside play video games. We invited him to our next sleepover. By10 years of age we happy trio of smooth attractive young boys jacked off together, or jerked each other, and when we got especially aroused, sucked each other. Paul and Dean and Jacky. But I never thought of my ass could be part of the game. That would come later with others. When I was 11 Dean moved away. Well, that wasn’t too much of a loss because we always had to waste time convincing him to suck us, whereas me and Jacky were always ready 24/7 to put our mouth on cock. I liked sucking more than Jacky seemed to. I was such a dreamy, romantic boy. I knew the word “desire” but not sure what it meant exactly. But desire konya escort was indeed what was growing in me: desire for boys, desire for sex, desire for cock, to…see…to feel…to taste cock. Desire to suck the cock of boys I would see, and wished we were friends. When a handsome boy came into view I always examined the stranger head to toe, paying special attention to the fit of the boy’s jeans at the crotch. What would it look and taste like? I loved the smell and taste of Jacky’s dick. And men too, like my 7th grade teacher. By age 11 my boy centered urges grew–boy urges big time. I had no thought of girls. No desire there. And boys were more fun than girls. We laughed at the same jokes, watched the same programs, played the same games, cursed the same, had the same enthusiasms. “Paul, Paul!” my teacher called to me when I didn’t answer the geography question. I dreamt a lot in class, sometimes with a hard cock. I sat with my legs open wide all the time, the bulge easily seen which I think he liked. Some of my classmates smirked when they mentioned Mr. Stevens’ name. I think he had fantasies about most of his boy students. I wanted to be high up on his fantasy list. So it was no surprise when I met Mr. Stevens unexpectedly at the Baskin Robbins. I felt a little embarrassed, as if he knew the thoughts that boned me up in his class. Anyway, I accepted his offer to a treat with nervous excitement. We sat for an hour, boy and man–Larry was his name–him doing most of the talking. Seated across from each other there was no mistaking his knees pressed my knees. The buzz of the other people in the store was relaxing. Once in awhile I moved my knees against his, feeling bold and grown up all of a sudden. He responded in kind. Outside I got in his car, the offer to drive me home too exciting to refuse. “I’m glad I ran into to you Paul. When I saw your name on my roster it made me happy.” He put his hand on my thigh, the fingertips of his warm hand very near my dick, and smiled. “You’re warm…” he said, “very warm.” I opened my legs a bit more. “No, I should say you’re hot. One of the hottest in the school. Do you know that?” I looked at him and smiled and opened my still legs wider. He chuckled, said “teaser!” and told me I was a smart kid. He told me lots of other things, things about the school, others teachers, where he grew up and the sex games he played when he was my age. By now his hand was in my crotch, the head of my dick being squeezed and rolled between his thumb and forefinger. “Mr. Stevens, we shouldn’t do this.” “Why?” “You’re my teacher. You’re married. Your wife, what would she s…” “Paul, baby, leave my wife out of this. I see how you look at other boys, never the girls, how you glance at my crotch. You’re young and curious, aren’t you?” No answer. He asked again. Yes, I said, I was curious. He took my hand and pressed it against his dick. It was warm and hard and felt big. It made me dizzy. We felt each other for quite awhile. Darkness was falling. “Pull your pants down.” “How beautiful.” He fucked me. It hurt. The Boy Scouts By the time I joined the Boy Scouts and met Les, my teacher had fucked me once, had sucked me eight or nine times and I sucked him off about six times. Les was short for Lester I guess. Seventeen years old, Eagle Scout, his snug uniform pants konyaaltı escort alive with an unmistakable basket of boy parts and tempting ass. Les was more sexy than anyone I knew. I hadn’t paid much attention to “sexy” until then. Now I knew what it meant because the pull that boy had on me was like moth to flame. No, he didn’t have blond hair (it was black) or green eyes (they were blue) or an uncut 12 inch dick (it was six inches straight and clean, circumcised). He did have smooth, tawny skin that glowed no matter the season and a seductive voice. He smelled delicious. Delicious also was his personality. Everyone liked him. Everyone went to him for help and advice or just to spend time in his company. We would sit close around him, us young tenderfooties, his adoring acolytes, to listen him tell stories of his adventures in scouting, conscious of the influence of his sexuality. And he knew it. We were easy pickings for him. Every few weeks he would invite a handful of us youngsters to his house. In that relaxed atmosphere three or four or five of us listened to his dirtier stories, saw his cock grow in his jeans, then, as often as not, do an exciting circle jerk. I learned that he sometimes had boys over singly. I got the single invite soon after joining. He taught me boy-on-boy fucking. Morning After The First Time Gently he woke me with many soft kisses all over my sleepy face, smiling, obviously pleased with me. “Good morning…” From deep inside me I let go a groan of satisfaction. I felt his warm breath. He asked if I liked it. This time I let go a growl, and we laughed. “What did you like best?” I knew the answer but was shy to say it. His smile grew larger, showing such white even teeth. I wondered if I was as good looking as this admired boy. “You can tell me,” he coaxed. My mouth was dry. “Well..” There was a long pause. “It…was.” Another, longer pause. I was feeling embarrassed. He moved his head, lips next to my warm ear. “You can tell me…” he whispered near my ear “but I think I know.” I chuckled. “It was when I was licking your ass. Eating your asshole, wasn’t it?” I nodded. My face was warm and probably red. “I thought so! You look so cute when you’re embarrassed…shy. I’ll do it again. But you have to say it, Paul boy, you have to tell me. We lay said by side for half an hour watching the day break around us. When he spoke again it was a command given: “Say what you want me to do to you.” He had to coax me several more times while his warm finger tips traced my hip bone and curve of my ass. “I want you… to… lick…it.. … my ass,” said finally, softly, my face growing warmer still. “I love doing it…How do you think I got to Eagle Scout?” Licking ass and getting licked he confessed got him favors from older scouts. I thought about this for awhile, a little sadly. Was this the way to get ahead in scouts, in life too, to lick asshole for real? But my greedy appetite for sexual adventure and approval knocked that thought away. If this is how to get what you want in life I was willing to try it. Les turned me over, lifted my hips, got himself into position behind me, all the time purring like a cat. “You’re the best fuck I’ve had in a long while Paul, maybe the best ever, kid.” I felt his weight shift. “You’ve got the best ass in the Troop.” konyaaltı eve gelen escort His tongue touched me. At that moment I knew why I’d been born. I was born to get fucked by older boys and young handsome men. My asshole–my boy pussy–was a gift to horny hot males to fill with their warm sperm, to capture me: under them I would open and they would protect me in their beautiful strong arms. Can you picture it? I was only twelve years old; he was seventeen magnificent years old. That beautiful boy started to lick my asshole. I was startled and concerned. Was I clean enough? Was I smelly? If his groans and moans were any sign, dirty or not didn’t matter: his tongue was aggressively doing its work, forcing inward as far as it could go. Instinctively I tightened. “Relax, let me do it…its so good.” “Do I smell?” “I love it…you smell good. Squeeze and let go.” When I did that I felt his dick-like tongue enter me a little. For a moment I felt disgusted, but that was cancelled by new sensational pleasure that made me dizzy. This was a kind of boy-fucking I hadn’t imagined was practiced. My asshole had awakened as a third source of sexual pleasure along with my dick and mouth. Blood surged again into my cock getting it even harder. Harder because I surrendered completely to whatever Les wanted and knew I would do the same to him, my face against his asshole no matter if smelly or hairy or even shitty. He called me a “slut,” and I liked the word. He could do whatever he wanted with me, his little slut-boy-slave. I think we must have spent a half in that position. When finished he put his arm around me and drew me close. From his underarm the odor of sweat hit my nose unexpectedly. “Good” I thought, more of him I know! The minutes drifted by slowly of that never forgotten golden day. We talked for awhile in low, complaisant voices. I felt grown up now, his equal. And I knew we weren’t finished. I got on my knees. “Turn over,” I said with a big smile. He grinned then got face down, those smooth long legs spread. I pushed open the cheeks of his firm ass and put my face there. The same sweat smell again, but funky too, earthly and rich like a whiff of organic decay. The boy’s ass crack was not hairy, but smooth like the rest of him. I licked and nibbled and sucked, needy and greedy for whatever I could get. I felt like I was the first boy in the world to do this to another boy, to suck asshole. When he squeezed he caught my tongue in a tight grip. I reached under feeling for his cock: the whole area was wet! I made him cum! I kept going, not wanting to stop. I was in love with his asshole, and mine too! We always began all Troop meetings saluting the flag and reciting the pledge of allegiance. All forty of us were drawn up in ranks. Our two young assistant scout masters stood apart in the first rank, and Mr. Fineman, the Scout Master leading. The flag was on our right, and so was my adored teen lover, Les. As I recited the pledge my eyes drifted down from his shoulders in the close fitting olive drab uniform to that beautiful ass. I pledged to the flag and pledged myself to that ass as well. My eyes remained glued there. Were other boys looking there too? “I had my tongue up that ass!” I thought, a smug grin on my lips. There were to be many more boy butts I would explore that way as I advanced in rank. I’d like to know if you enjoyed this story. Please put the title in your email. “How I Fell” will be enough. Thanks, hoo And its a good idea to make a contribution to Nifty so this ever-better archive many continue. Regards, Julian Otero all my stories are fty//authors.htmljulianotero

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