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Boy Of My Own

By Chris Carr

Eyes dark, the color of roasted chestnuts, they are vibrant, playful, sultry.

Cute button nose, and rosy, soft lips, full and sensuous

High cheekbones that provide character and a fine dusting of downy soft hair above his upper lip

Unruly locks of dark curly hair, it is like lamb’s wool.

Slight… yes, this boy is small and slim, his face almost gaunt.

The house is silent, his razor scooter carelessly left on the living room floor

Were his friends to know

Long forgotten they, no doubt, glide the streets, riding their own scooters

It is a conundrum

In the darkened room he stands, gazing curiously me at me. I am torn, now that it’s a reality. Quietly, I sip from my cognac, hoping to still myself.

Tender, butter brown skin, it is smooth and soft. Across his chest my willful eyes wander, temperature rising as I behold his sleek torso. The symmetry and form, dual pecs struggling to develop, each crowned with a sweet, butterscotch brown nipple. Small, slight shoulders, gangly arms, nimble, long fingers, the fingernails gnawed to the quick…

I sip again, observing him, my hands trembling around the tumbler.

Seizing the moment, he approaches, walking within inches of my chair. I glance up at him, frozen and he returns my gaze.

The boy is in search of his manhood, wrestling with conflicting desires.

My hand raises, halts then retreats. I take another sip, my anxiety temporarily calmed.

When first I saw him, scooting around my neighborhood, I wondered (wished).

But why? Why would he ever?

I spoke, he returned my greeting and I jumped in my car.

It became a ritual, until one day, he asked if had a tape recorder.

The heat from his body radiates, warming me, it stokes the fires within. I wait, hoping he has the nerve. It would be so much better.

He came over often, CD’s he’d borrowed from friends in hand. Plopping down in front of the stereo, he’d fire it up and start the day’s session. Rap, R&B, and an unusual affinity for Marcy Gray.

"You like this?" he’d ask, Marcy’s brisk voice belting out a tune.

Hats… he always wore hats.

Baseball caps, pulled low over his animated eyes.

Beanies, and ski caps.

His clothes, though somewhat worn, were always crisp and clean.

From his freshly ironed shirts, to the creases in his pants, he was a fastidious dresser.

He spoke sparingly, daring to converse when only necessary.

His presence… to be around him, reward enough.

The cognac’s effect welcomed, it dawns on me, we will wait like this forever.

He’s come so far, risking so much, but alas, the boy is but a child.

Like a vision, I saw him standing, head slightly bowed, nude in my room. It is a fantasy I’ve played a thousand times in my mind. Beyond that, I couldn’t fathom much more. Just the thought of him willingly standing there, that adolescent body of his exposed, gave me such a rush, I was certain I’d be discovered for my unholy imaginations.

I’d hidden my attraction well, or so I’d thought. And there were no tell-tell signs of my orientation. None of that mattered to Amiel, his mind obviously set from day one.

There is a soft rustling beside me and the towel drops. He stands demurely, his head deigning to lift, his soft eyes glancing at me, then darting away. Allowing my eyes to scan further, I can hear my breathing becoming thready.

So subtle, I wasn’t aware until it was upon me. I’d retired to my room to read.

"Gotta use the bathroom," he mumbled, walking past my room. I nodded, returning to my book, lost in thought, until I heard him padding softly into my room. Looking up, I gasped, shocked.

I detect his odor.

It is that of soap, mingled with the piquant fragrance of ripe adolescence.

His stomach is taut, the abs but a promise of what is to come.

Its smoothness is alluring and I allow myself to gently caress it.

He shudders, ever so softly, a soft rasp escaping him.

The skin is warm to the touch, velvety. Passing my hand over his navel, I feel him tremble. He closes his eyes, biting his lower lip waiting, my hand traveling further. Below his belly button the muscles grow more defined and I apply more pressure. He dares to look down, following my advancing hand.

As it nears the uppermost hairs of his pubic bush his flaccid member responds, languidly lengthening to stand at attention, pulsing… throbbing. I watch it extend, then, softly, I slip its beating span through my fingers. As they near the distended head, it twitches, expanding within my hand.

Amiel hisses softly, throwing his head back as I slide his shiny knob through my caressing fist. So precious, so erotic.

I release his hair-trigger rifle and cuddle his constricting balls. He widens his stance slightly, granting me full access to his bulging orbs. They are warm, the texture of wrinkled flesh sensuous on my fingers. His missile remains erect, angling upward from his groin as I fondle his cum-heavy balls.

His legs astride, I gaze at each scrumptious column. Nimble, graceful limbs made for sprinting, there is no hair save the fine feathering of fleece about his calves. With this small area I am familiar as he often goes without socks. The way that small growth of hair stops abruptly above his ankles has taunted me for some time.

Below that subtle growth, his ankles are somehow… tantalizing. Their smoothness, the way they are oddly pallid, just above his feet. And now his feet are exposed, twin pedestals extending immodestly beneath him, sustaining his lovely frame.

My hand encircles the base of his distended pole causing his toes to spring up, wiggling in time to the rhythm of his pulsing member. Slipping his rigid 7 inches through my fingers again, a dollop of sweet nectar raises from its swollen head. He gasps softly as I bend and flick that pearl of clear liquid off the end of his rod.

Exasperated, he impatiently reaches down and rips my shirt over my head, tossing it aside. Stooping, he grabs my shoes and wrestles them off, not even bothering to untie them. With great urgency, he pulls first my socks, then my pants off and I watch, intrigued.

"Take them off, too," he whispers, indicating my boxers.

I raise up, slipping them below my hips and he strips them off my feet, tossing them aside too. Standing, he takes my hand and tugs prompting me to stand. I relent, charmed by this sudden display of dominance.

I stand above him by a few inches and he peers up at me blinking, then lowers his head. We stand like this for an eternity, it seems, the warmth from our two bodies reverberating between us. Amiel has the patience of Job.

My quivering hands reach to touch, but miserably fail. I watch as they stop, frozen mid-air, inches from his adorable physique.

Amiel sees this. I can tell, even though his head is still down.

As I start to lower my hands, he inches closer… closer… closer… until…

There is a unique bond between boy and man. The boy, desirous of all things male, emulates and associates. The man, fancying his days of old, regresses.

"Can’t wait till I’m grown," he grumbles, angry at some limitation.

Yet, Amiel was no mere child, our bond somehow finding a middle ground. A place where each of us valued the other as equals.

His music, my books. His fire for life, my acceptance. His desire, pitted against my caution.

…I shuddered.

He is like a hot, smoldering furnace against me, searing me with his ardor. Distressed, I stiffen, paralyzed. Gently, he rests his head against me and sighs softly. Slowly, my arms extend to embrace him.

Holding him close, my hands travel over his lithe back, luxuriating in the sensation of his silken flesh beneath my fingertips. Amiel lolls his head on my shoulder and exhales softly, his body enfolding against mine.

Shoulder blades, supple shoulders.

Spine, rigid yet velvety soft.

Shoulder blades.

Middle

Sides

Vertebrae

Vertebrae…

His rigidity prods me, its oozing head sliming my pelvis. We are clasped together, entwined as one. Amiel hisses as my hand seizes his pliant ass. There is movement between us, his eager tool spiraling stiffer. He whispers my name, his head nuzzled against my neck.

Whimpering, his insistent bayonet spears me, his body trembling in my embrace.

"Cody…" he exhales, gnawing on my neck.

Shudders

Grips me tight

Gasps

Strains… pushes… thrusts…

Shudders, his warmth spurting out against me in hot torrents of pent up passion.

In sweet repose, he lays across my bed, his breathing rhythmical. I sip my cognac again, gazing at him, serene. Something causes him to stir and I am drawn to his bare feet, wiggling before me. As I am sitting at the foot of the bed, they are most prominent, his toes and soles divine.

His body freshened from his recent shower, it glistens, the youth too tired to even dry. I watch as his chest rises and falls and wonder; how many times is this scene being repeated around the world? How many boys are struggling to find themselves with some man, this very minute? Can I be the only one?

Amiel shifts, parting his legs ever so slightly and I am captivated, gazing at his long, graceful limbs. His dangling balls. His hanging member.

Where this whole relationship has led, troubles me. Even in the presence of his wondrously alluring body, I am melancholy. Torn with the knowledge that this could be the source of great anguish. Tremendous pain.

I am distraught, angered that some external force could intrude, exacting its biased judgment. The powers that be would never consider anything between us honorable. Couldn’t possibly know Amiel had taught me dominoes. Or that I’d taught him chess. Or that Amiel, for reasons even I can’t explain, was drawn to me.

Amiel opens his eyes and looks lazily at me. He turns to his side to face me, curling into a fetal position.

Beauty so extraordinary, it hurts.

He observes my disturbed expression, sitting up.

An embrace, so tender, so sincere,

It melts tension, washing it away like a clear water stream.

I am held, Amiel’s gentle caresses comforting.

Touch… sensuous tactile stimulation. Skin against silky soft skin. The gentle murmur of a beating heart.

Amiel pauses, looking at me. I drop my head and he embraces me again. Genuinely moved, I return his embrace and we are entangled again.

Oh sweet lovely youth sublime.

That I could hold you like this, time immortal.

I push him back onto the bed and lay across him, sensing every inch of him beneath me. He wraps his arms about me in a deep hug, writhing about. His length prods me again, urgent.

Battling my demons I am conflicted, lust struggling against reasoning. Relenting, I echo his submission, offering an equally rigid baton. Like rutting pigs, we writhe about, stabbing our stiff poles at each other. Amiel whimpers, his unruly club throbbing bone hard.

I raise up, my conscience smiting me as I straddle his magnificent face, aiming my stiff joystick at his mouth. He gazes at me, his big brown eyes imposing. Opening his mouth wide, he wraps it clumsily around my rod.

Heavenly

Licentious

The sensation of his warm wet mouth around my pulsating tool is incredible. Every inch is now experiencing nirvana, his precious orifice too wondrous to describe.

Slurping loudly, he twists his head about, searching for a comfortable position around my prodding piece. Gently, I slide my dick across his waggling tongue. Amiel gags, his eyes widening as it strokes his sensitive throat. His mouth overflowing, juices run over his suckling lips, wetting them sensuously.

Sliding up a little, Amiel better positions himself to accept my post. His head twisting about, he holds the base in his delicate fingers to support it. With vigor he laps at my spearing wand. Steadily improving, he nevertheless nicks me, his teeth intruding on his technique.

I caress his head, accepting his ineptitude as part of the process. Trembling, I thrust a few more times, then withdraw before it’s too late. Amiel looks at me, wiping drool from his mouth with the back of his hand and I bend low to kiss him on his supple lips.

His mouth tastes better than it felt. My tongue swabbing his opened mouth, we form a sensuous embrace. Dashing tongues, swathing back and forth between orifices. Smacks and groans, both of us pawing at each other.

I raise up and observe him beneath me, this vision that’s haunted my fantasies so long. His downy soft hair, ruffled in shocks of curls. A face so lovely, so delicately beautiful, it is as close to perfection possible.

And this lean, sinuous teen body that I’ve lusted after from day one. Yearned to see revealed, my imaginations clumsily conjuring up what reality now blasts away.

Amiel sighs softly as I caress his chest, tweaking his sensitive nipples. His soaring arrow twitches and thumps as I drag my tongue across one of his raw nubs, suckling… lapping… licking.

From one brown nib to the other I travel, slobbering each with my whipping tongue. Amiel thrashes about, his legs spreading. He grabs my head and caresses it, gasping as each sensation rivets him. I nuzzle his paps, making sweet love to them, enjoying the way each crowned jewel dances on my tongue.

Between his legs I dash, spreading him wide. His taut balls are snuggled close to his groin, forming almost one, contiguous sac. He watches me, captivated as I near them, hissing loudly when my tongue whips out to slather them. His toes curl, and he unconsciously bobs his legs up and down.

I paint his orbs with saliva and he gazes, biting his lower lip. His throbbing canon is so hard, it stands erect from his groin, dangling in mid-air. There is a faint tang of male pungency coating his pear shaped nuts. I savor their rich flavor, polishing them, my tongue flicking about, drawing their tightness into my mouth.

The sensation is so intensive, Amiel can hardly stand it. His eyes wide, he moans and groans, his hips whipping about, pitching his balls so, I have to bob my head to stay with them. When he feels my tongue traveling further down, dabbing across the raw area between his drum tight hole and his writhing balls, he yelps, bucking wildly.

His head thrashing about, he whimpers and sighs in anticipation as I move closer. Sometime later, Amiel revealed that never, in his wildest dreams, could he have anticipated what happened that night. A mere teen, he’d never been with another male and, despite his reservations, he took the risk.

When I raised his legs high and lapped at his constricted hole that night, he had to suppress a scream. His toes wiggling wildly, Amiel bucked madly, whipping his slot across my darting tongue. His pole dangling over his quivering stomach dripped abundantly, searing it with hot drops of clear syrup.

With his legs spread the way they were, his dual buns parted easily, exposing his wicked hole. Sensations fired out from his stimulated blossom, assaulting his body as if his asshole had been rammed atop a live electrical wire. I lapped at that hole, diddling it with my tongue, torturing him.

Before long, it started to relax and my tongue easily wormed in. Amiel panted, gasped and groaned as his virgin opening accepted my diving tongue. He couldn’t believe the intense level of sensations rocketing up from his ass.

Pushing my tongue deep, I penetrated him, delivering, in essence, his first fuck. Amiel started whimpering and trembling so bad, I knew he was about to blow so I withdrew. The boy was so near climax, even my hands on the back of his thighs were causing him to writhe and moan.

I let him lay for a minute, hoping he wouldn’t go over the top. He shook and groaned, his brick hard dick pulsing. Eventually he looked at me, a sex-crazed expression on his face.

Man and boy, crossing the divide to taste the most forbidden taboo.

In an instant, as I gaze at his vulnerable condition, I am panged with feelings of guilt.

His appetite roused, Amiel has no such reservations.

Raising up, he straddles me, his inexperienced body awkward, huffing and panting in my ear as he clumsily positions atop me. I hear him grunt and exhale as he raises his enticingly, pert ass, dragging his rigid pipe across my rebounding dick. His breath against my ear, he grinds against me.

I am drawn back in, his efforts arousing. I embrace him, my hands coddling his shoulder blades and back. Amiel pants softly in my ear, his breath hot on my neck, his saucy ass rising and falling. Down his back my hands travel, his velvet soft skin erotic, finally moving to cup his upraised buns. They fill my hands perfectly, his hot round loaves intoxicating.

I ply them, kneading and caressing them. Amiel pushes his ass higher, cramming his cakes into my hands. My finger dives within his valley, sluicing across his spit lubed hole. Amiel wiggles his ass, his body quivering as I finger his hole.

By chance, his squirming frees my pinned cock, allowing it to rear up against his writhing ass. Amiel senses its presence at his door and gyrates, rubbing his hot box against it. There is an instant where we both pause, captured by what his willful bottom is doing. Amiel pants in my ear, gripping me tight as his ass undulates, thrusting against my spear.

Ablaze, my dick leaks its natural lubricant, slicking his incorrigible passage. Amiel pushes, determined, but his channel doesn’t yield. He pushes again, grunting in my ear, his tunnel refusing to give. The continued pressure against my dick is so stimulating, I fear I won’t gain passage before I blow all over him.

I groan in ecstasy, as Amiel works his ass back and forth, eventually lodging the tip of my dick in his hole. The sensation is incredible and I grip his bubbly cheeks, holding on for dear life. Beneath my hands, I feel his ass rotating, rising and falling to shove more of my column inside.

Amiel yelps, wincing as the head of my dick sinks in. He holds me in a death grip, sweat breaking out on his brow as he struggles to accommodate my ass-splitter. I, on the other hand, am enraptured, his snug opening snatching my knob in a mind searing stranglehold.

We lay like that for a few minutes, Amiel frozen in agony, me praying I don’t go off. Through it all, I can feel Amiel’s dick still rip roaring hard between us.

Eventually he loosens his grip and I feel his ass advance further down my dick.

"Uhh!" he whimpers, his virgin ass objecting.

"You don’t have…"

"Shhh!" Amiel protests, pushing again.

My eyes cross and my toes curl as more of my throbbing cock slides up Amiel’s pampering chute. Inch by painful inch it advances as Amiel rotates his hips, impaling himself. At the halfway mark, he shuddered, his dick thumping extra hard between us.

Whimpering softly in my ear, he humps again, forcing more of me inside him. Drawing himself up, I feel him tremble, then… with another whimper, he reverses, wedging all but the last few inches within. His breath hot against my neck again, he groans and mules, his spread hole aglow.

With every cycle he completes, his ass lewdly rising and falling astride my pole, he grips me tighter, locking me in his embrace. I am but a spectator, privileged to witness his deflowering. It’s not about me anymore. Selfishly propelling his stretched passage around my root, Amiel has found pleasure in the most unlikely place.

Gasping and puffing, he is a determined soul, desperately searching for the bottom of his libido. His ass pumping faster and faster atop my battering ram, his moans attest, he’s not hurting anymore.

We sway, joined in the most intimate way, my dick socketed in his vise tight hole. I peer over his shoulder and behold the wonder of his ratcheted ass, slammed atop my sword in the dresser mirror. The site of it, sliding up and down my torpedo is so utterly erotic, I am driven close to delivering.

Amiel is oblivious, lost in his own delight. Rutting like a dog in heat, he makes constant groans now.

Succulent, smoldering mounds of teen flesh, willingly spread

Their reflection tauntingly dancing

At the center, there is a union

My saber, his socket

Thighs flexing

Sensuous, pink soles

Wiggling toes

I gaze, transfixed, my throbbing dick nursed by this boy’s hungrily tight hole.

Amiel growls and I feel his asshole snap tighter around my cock. Another screech and now his whole body convulses as his anus chokes upon my bat. The bed is audibly squeaking under the force of his propulsions.

Squealing, he nips at my shoulder with his teeth, plunging his ass so deep, I feel the root of my dick ensconced. He holds himself impaled, his body shuddering as his dick leaps between us.

With a loud shriek I feel his asshole quiver, mind blowing ripples traveling the length of his tunnel, milking the life out of my canon. The bed shakes violently as we both quake, Amiel’s shotgun firing heavy projectiles across my stomach.

Yelling at the top of my lungs, I feel the cum sucked out of my balls and up my tube, exploding in angry torrents deep inside Amiel. My toes wiggle, as my dick leaps, cannonading repeatedly inside the boy’s passage.

Once again, we share, Amiel drenching my stomach and groin with his flow, wicked squirts of pent up lust pelting me endlessly, my own body wrenching spurts, euphoric. My shaft shudders, kissed passionately by Amiel’s writhing lovehole. It convulses, squeezing and choking up my very essence.

Writhing about, I thrust my dick up, lodging it deeper within Amiel’s aperture with each volley. My balls contract, their copious bounty ripped the length of my pulsating column. Shaking violently, I experience conflicting desires, part of me tortured while some other part prays it never ends.

Amiel squeals, groaning loudly every time my dick rams him. With every thrust I feel his poker lunge, blasting another spurt of hot juice.

Sweating

Humping

Thrusting

Ball wrenching glory

Lecherous copulation

Expending

Exploding

Exhausting

His razor scooter regularly abandoned in the front room, we are insatiably bound

Long, hard pole, in constant pursuit of relief, it tents his shorts before he can remove them

Pulsing, writhing, dripping

Suckle it, lick it, devour it

Sensuous sensation of its flared helmet

Knees weak as his mouth coddles my length

Amiel writhing, my tongue dividing his asscheeks

Insatiable caldron, willingly bifurcated astride my soaring cock

Ass searing length, reaching forever inside my tunnel

Rubbing

Prodding

Searching

Stimulating

Wetting

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