Six months had gone by since Mick took my virginity.
During that time I had come out to my mom. It had gone as I had expected it would: she was disinterested. She had rolled her eyes in that way mom’s have, and I was half expecting a comment about it being “just a phase” or something. She managed to say nothing then tried to hide her facial expression by giving me a cursory hug. As she walked away she muttered “God only knows what your father will say” before catching herself again and calling over her shoulder, “Not that we should care about his opinion!”
And that was that. It was never mentioned again, never even acknowledged. I hardly saw her anyway, as she was always doing some work-related thing or off for a “weekend retreat”. I was beginning to suspect she was seeing someone and didn’t want me involved. I didn’t really care. I was getting laid on the regular, so I guessed it was only fair that she was too.
My life had settled into a predictable routine. I was studying hard, I’d made a few friends, and once or twice a week I’d stop by Mick’s and we’d spend long hours talking about life and dreams and everything before he’d move in close and we’d fuck.
Sometimes it was long and slow and passionate. He’d begin by kissing my neck, slowly undressing me, drinking in my body with his fingertips, his lips, his tongue. Eventually, after edging me, fingering my hole and stretching it out with warm lube, he’d slide his penis inside me and rock backward and forward while he played with my cock, my balls, or my nipples.
Other times he was raw: He’d rip my clothes from my body the moment I stepped into his domain, firm fingers probing me everywhere. Often we wouldn’t even make it off the doormat, while other times he’d lead me to the living room or his bedroom. He’d spit into his hand on these occasions, using his saliva to lubricate my little boy hole before ramming his dick into me. He liked it when I struggled, when I pretended to try and get free. It made him all the hornier and he took me hard and fast. It was like a rape fantasy come to life, with two willing players getting their rocks off.
Mick was a good lover. He always ensured I came and his after-care of me and my body was wonderful. If we went at it slow and gentle he’d clean me with hot towels and bathe me. He’d do that after he fucked me hard, too, but he’d spend extra time rubbing ointment into and around my anus and making sure I was okay. He was educational too, instructing me on how to get properly clean and telling me about toys and terminology and showing me new positions. I often joked with him that he was like my personal fuck tutor, a role he enjoyed as much as me.
It was becoming clear that he was struggling to keep up with me, though, and I longed for a guy nearer to my age. It wasn’t that my time with Mick wasn’t fun - it was! It was more than fun. It was awesome. But I wanted to feel the closeness of someone who shared more of my interests, maybe a guy who could learn with me, maybe a boyfriend.
I had been honest with Mick about that. I was honest with him about everything. That’s how I knew he was struggling to keep up: he told me so. He said it would be good for me to find someone and he confided that he thought he was too old and too tired to keep going at my pace. I always chuckled at that. When Mick was behind me and living his rape fantasy with me, there was nothing old or frail about him, that was for sure. I wondered if this was his way of encouraging me to get out there, to find another lover. He was sweet like that.
But sweet or not, in six months I hadn’t had even so much as a sniff that anyone within a 200 mile radius to me was in the slightest bit gay. Apparently the only guy interested in my ass was Mick.
I admit, I was beginning to get depressed by my situation. Despite having made a couple of friends, despite having a personal mentor in Mick, I felt alone. I found myself watching Netflix shows and reading online romances. I’d hug a pillow while I watched or read, I’d cry, and then I’d feel annoyed and frustrated: why couldn’t these people in these shows and books be me? Fantasy happy endings started to really piss me off!
Literally no-one at school was showing any signs of being interested in my ass. In fact, everyone seemed to be chasing around after pussy, which was even more depressing. People were hooking up like it was about to go out of style.
I had shared how I felt with Mick, as I always did. He got a thoughtful look and said he might have an idea, but that he wanted to think about it and we’d chat about it at the weekend.
The weekend took its sweet time arriving. I got up late as usual, made myself ready for whatever Mick was going to do to me, and left the house. It was warm and sunny and that always made me horny on my walk up to Mick’s. I had selected a tight t-shirt and the most undersized little boy short-shorts I had. They were the kind of thing that should have been donated to the clothing bank two years ago, but I’d kept them because I really liked them when I was younger. Now I liked them even more: they made me feel incredibly slutty and I knew Mick would love to peel them off me.
I had also bought the style of underwear that Mike said he really liked: a jock strap. It felt so wrong, but so goddam right! My little bulge all pushed up in front, with my ass hanging out with just the tight, undersized satin-like fabric of my shorts between my hole and the outside world. When the pack of three had arrived in the mail I had been surprised. These were not the sporty, supportive jockstraps that the guys at school wore on field! These were a light material, like girl’s underwear, one in powder blue, one in pink, and the other in white. Just wearing a pair was was making my dick strain at the fabric, so I hoped I didn’t meet anyone on the way. Given how tight my shorts were and how little support my underwear offered, it would be obvious that I was all chubbed up. I looked like a total slut and I knew it.
I arrived at Mick’s and knocked on the door. He preferred it if I knocked. He said he was cool with me having a key, but he liked opening the door to find me standing there. He liked looking me up and down and deciding how to fuck me that day. It turned him on. He said it was like getting a very special delivery, so while he gave me a key anyway I never used it.
The door swung open and Mick stood looking at me, his eyes bulging wide at the sight of my small frame in these super-tight clothes. I made a play of yawning and stretching, an action which dragged the hem of the small t-shirt over my waist, showing off the straps of my new kinky underwear above the waistband of the shorts.
I dropped my head to one side, feeling entirely submissive under the glare of this much older man. What would he want today? Hand and knees on the doormat so he could rape me hard, or a slow fuck on the couch after he’d delicately fingered my tight little hole? I found I was already getting hot with the anticipation.
“Can I come in Uncle Mick?” I asked in my best little boy voice. “I’m all ‘eepy and I need somewhere to rest my little body.” I had decided that I hoped he took me hard and fast today. I was so fucking horny I just wanted him to do it me.
Mick made an appreciative “mmmmmm” sound, but his expression remained unchanged. He was taking everything in with his eyes, processing what he saw and deciding how to respond.
It was apparent that his cock was already preparing an answer to my sluttiness, as with each passing second it bulged a little tighter in his jeans.
On a whim I said “Maybe I can slip out of these little shorts while I snooze?” I batted my eyelashes at him with a little smile on my face.
Mick took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring, his lips pursed shut. I knew him well enough to know that he was loving what he saw. Everything about him seemed more fired up than I had ever seen him. It was making my pulse race - and his!
Mick stood back, his tongue tracing a line over his top lip, the door left wide for me to enter. I climbed the two steps into his static caravan, into his domain. The sexual energy was electric, so I wasn’t surprised when he pushed me roughly up against the wall as the door slammed behind me.
I was his now. I’d stepped over the portal and that was our way of acknowledging a simple fact: from now on and until he came, he was in charge.
He stood close behind me, so close that I could feel the bulge in his jeans. He ran trembling hands over my shoulders and down my back, cupping my buttocks. He groped me, feeling around through the tight fabric for what was underneath, before placing both hands on my waist.
“Have you been a naughty boy?” He asked, his voice unusually gruff and gravelly.
“Yes sir. I think I have.” I responded, playing along, enjoying it, almost in sensory overload at the sexual anticipation.
He ran a single hand up to the back of my neck, where he gripped me tightly. It didn’t hurt, but I had no choice but to move as he manoeuvred me into his little kitchen.
This was new. We never did it in here. I took fast shallow breaths, my breathing in sync with my rapid heartbeat.
Mick sat on a stood by the kitchen table and pulled me down so that I was bent over his knee. He held the back of my neck with one hand, forcing my head down and keeping me still. He groped my bottom with the other, feeling for the elastic straps of my underwear through the tight, glossy fabric of my shorts.
“Naughty boys have to be spanked” he said quietly.
My eyes went wide. Spanked…..?
Mick’s hand swept down to slap the fleshy part of my lower buttocks and I flinched and made a little whimpering sound.
It stung, but it felt so good. Kind of warm, and sharp, and……
Another slap, and then another, and then another.
“Ooh…… oooh…….oooh” My ass felt hotter and hotter with each slap. Each slap stung more and more and my eyes began to water. Every three of four times he’d rub me, his thumb delving into my crack, pushing at my hole through the material of my shorts.
I was taking deep breaths, taking in these new sensations, trying hard not to cry out. It hurt a little, of course, but it was also just about the sexiest I’d ever felt. And it was another new experience and I craved those like a sex-addicted teenager.
He spanked me some more until I could tell that my cheeks were red. Then he stopped.
“Stand” he instructed, and I did as he told me immediately.
“Pull them down over your bottom” he said. I knew what he meant. I faced away from him and slowly peeling the shorts down over my bottom, bending forward slightly so I could push them to mid thigh while showing off my little pink hole, revealed through the jock that I was wearing.
“Stay there. Put your hands on your knees” he said. Again, I did exactly as I had been instructed, goosebumps erupting all over my body. I loved it when he told me what to do.
I sensed rather than heard him dribble saliva into his fingertips. He smeared the mess into my open crack, rubbing my anus gently. My knees went weak at his touch and a little arc of electricity jumped up my spine from vertebrae to vertebrae. I arched my back for him and he slid a finger inside me.
The first penetration.
“Mmmmmmm” he said again, the most appreciate sound in the world. “Now, back over here” he took his finger away and I sighed even as he brought me back over his knee, back to the same position, his hand gripping the back of my neck again.
Another slap echoed around the kitchen. It hurt more now, the small degree of protection that my shorts had offered now removed from the equation.
Slap, slap, slap, slap…..
Now I really had tears in my eyes. My buttocks felt searing heat and my body was uncomfortable over Mick’s knee, but I was still able to fight the urge to complain. For every degree that it hurt, there was a new degree of pleasure and admit, I was longing for him to do more to me. Even the discomfort of the position, forced down over his knees, was making me feel hornier and hornier. My dick was dripping with pre-cum, soaking the front of my jock.
I tensed awaiting the next slap, but it never came.
Mick used both hands to massage, to grope my buttocks, before pulling them apart with some force and spitting into my crack. I could feel the warmth of his saliva as it slid down and coated my entrance.
Then came the thumb. Mick’s Magic Thumb. It probed into me in a single shove, right up to the second knuckle, to the meat of his hand.
The second penetration.
I exhaled sharply in surprise and pleasure. He dug around, pulling at my anus, pulling me open, stretching me, making me ready. It always felt so naughty, so sexual and intimate, Mick’s thumb where no older man’s thumb should be.
God, I thought. I need something bigger…..
No sooner had I considered it than Mick had begun to stand, pushing me off his knee and onto the floor. Was this it? Was he going to get me on my hands and knees and just fuck into me?
The answer came immediately and he grasped and handful of my hair and pulled me up. I staggered to my feet and was pushed face first over the little kitchen table. Its plastic surface was cold against my hot flesh, and I winced.
Then he was there. I felt the head of his dick against my wet hole and before I could react, he thrust forward with all of his strength. He buried his meat half-way into me in one shove before grabbing my shoulders with hands and ramming in the rest. He was in me up the hilt, his public hair pressed hard against my ass, and I could feel him twitching inside me.
The final penetration.
He pressed down at the centre of my back with one hand and grabbed my hip with the other. Then he fucked me, fucked me like a deranged ex-con who’d been locked in solitary confinement for the past ten years.
My cheeks were hot and red and sore, my hole was forced wide open and was taking a pounding, and my hips were getting bruised against the kitchen table.
And through all this, my cock was leaking juices like a puppy on heat and my mind was lost in a sexual haze. I felt myself getting hard, felt my scrotum getting tighter and tighter around my balls. Something about this, or maybe everything about this, was hitting something inside me that I liked.
Mick was panting now and I knew he’d be sweating. I was drowning, being washed over by wave after relentless wave of sexual energy. My insides had become Mick’s fuck sleeve and every square inch of my flesh had become super-sensitive. My cock was straining, so hard that I didn’t know what to do. My hands were gripping the edge of the table as Mick continued to pound, pound, pound. I realised I was crying out with each thrust, making loud ah-ah-oh-ah sounds that must have been audible outside this tin shelter.
Suddenly something changed. A switch went off in my mind and I knew I had reached the point of no return: I was going to come, hands-free, while Mick raped into my hole. My noises turned to well-fucked mewing and Mick began to grunt with each forceful shove. My body seemed to go numb, all except my hole, my buttocks, my hips on the table, and the growing tight hardness of my cock.
Every thrust edged me closer. I desperately wanted it to end, to climax, but my little body couldn’t get there without more and more and more from Mick. I was so aware of how his huge hard dick pushed into me, filling me right up before sliding back out and leaving me empty. My mind was fixated by that, by the in-and-out, by the sensations imparted on my little pink ring. Every thrust seemed to get me even harder, and I worried my dick would literally explode it felt so hard.
Then it changed again. I felt a wave of heat and electricity build in my core, fed by Mick’s relentless thrusting and fucking. It grew and grew, like a globe of molten lava that consumed everything it touched as it expanded inside me. Another thrust from Mick and it hit my groin, another and it consumed my balls. I let out a yell of pleasure and pain and ecstasy. Mick thrust back inside me, both hands yanked my hips toward him, his cock growing and pulsating inside me. I felt him cum in huge, hot, wet spurts that coated my rectum just as my own balls exploding like they’d never exploded before.
I came and came and came, only eventually stopping when I began to worry there’d be nothing left inside me, my stupid thought breaking the moment.
After long minutes of Mick’s aftershocks and my dribbling, he gently slid his shaft and then the head out of me. I could feel his cum leaking from my well-used hole, the warm goo running down my thigh. My own cum was leaking through the fabric of my jock and running down the front of my legs. I was an exhausted, cummy mess!
As always, Mick fetched some towels. He wiped me down, cleaned me, saw to my sore buttocks and abused hole and then he carried me to his bed where we lay together to recover from the fucking of my life.
We spent an hour like that, just touching and caressing and snoozing a little. Eventually I acknowledged: “That was the best yet. My balls may never make cum ever again!”
Mick chuckled. “I haven’t cum like that since I was your age. I don’t think I’ve fucked that hard since I was your age, to be honest.”
“Yeah, I might not actually be able to walk home” I joked. “And even if I can, I won’t be able to sit down for a few days.” We both laughed at that.
“So listen” Mick said after a pause in the chatter. “I was thinking about what you said last week. I think it’s time I took you out. Took you into the city.”
I say up, looked him in the eye. “How’s that going to help?” I asked, confused.
“There are a few places in the city. One in particular that I’ve been to a few times.” He paused. “Bars, clubs you might call them. Places where a hot piece of ass like you will attract attention. If you want it.”
I got a thoughtful expression. “You mean a gay club?” I asked.
Mick nodded. “Yeah”.
There was another long pause while I thought about what he was saying. He spoke before I could. “Maybe there’s no-one for you in this old hick town” he said. “But I know for a fact that there’s a whole host of people of all ages in the city. People just like you. Sure, the bars and clubs can be daunting, but I’ll take you. I’ll show you the ropes. The rest is up to you, kid.”
I thought about it. Was I ready to go out to a place where people said, openly, “hey I’m gay - you want some?” I mean, I knew that it wasn’t quite like that, but the admission, the outing of oneself in a public place, seemed terrifying.
But I wanted to meet people like me, didn’t I? I wanted to find a soul mate. I wanted friends with interests like mine. Did I want it enough to step over the threshold and be openly gay?
“When” I asked my voice quiet.
“Next Friday is best.” He replied.
I looked at him in the eyes. I knew he’d look after me. I knew he knew how naive I was, even if I couldn’t admit that out loud.
“Okay” I said finally.
He smiled at me, and I smiled back. I was already nervous! Waiting for Friday was going to be awful.
Part 4 cumming soon. If you liked Part 3, please leave a rating and a comment. Oh, and I'm answering emails again ;)
