*Gay Sex: Older & Young men*

“Excuse me–sir?”

I turned around at the sound of the voice. It was young.

The boy stood in the doorway, wearing only a white towel below his slender belly.

I smiled to myself. Once in a while Joe, the manager, lets a cute teenager he knows is underage in the door. He doesn’t do it often–we walk a thin line with the vice boys. They look the other way as long as they get their palms greased, but if they found out we trafficked in chicken we’d lose our license. And that would be the least of it.

My attitude about the whole thing is, live and let live. If any kid walks into this joint, he knows what he’s getting into. This is a massage parlor, not the local mall. If some pretty boy wants his cherry popped, that’s his business. And if he wants me to pop it for him, so much the better for both of us. Normally I like men, not boys. I’ve never put the moves on a teenager, and I never will. Guys who prey on kids make my skin crawl. But if a teenager puts the moves on me, or makes out he wants more than a good massage, all bets are off.

(more…)

This is a fantasy and should be read as one or is it drawn from your life, your time, your expectations - who can tell in this day and age; but if it touches a nerve, fulfils a dream then contact me at czykguy@hotmail.com and let me know I first met David when I was fourteen going on fifteen. I was then at Secondary School and I was having a bad time. Don’t let anyone tell you they were the best of days, at least for me they were the worst and I dreaded getting up every morning to go to school. I did not fit in with the all-male environment; I had spent most of my junior years playing with the girls with whom I had felt an affinity and I felt I was now a fish out of water, especially as I did not have any proper friends, at least no-one I was close to.

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You open a door and walk through. You are standing in a grass field. The field goes as far as your eyes can see. You look behind you and the door you walked through is missing. You turn back around and see a nude boy standing in front of you. The boy is about 14 or 15 years old. His hair short with its part in the middle. His hair color is blonde. The color blonde, like a ripe wheat field. You look into his face. His eyes are blue. The type of blue that the sky wishes it could be and the sea will never be. You see a light dusting of freckles on his nose. You see no blemishes or hair on his face. You look down some more. The boy’s chest has no hair on it. His tits are the size of dimes and they are erect. You look down again and see his stomach is flat with the beginnings of a nice six pack forming. You look down again and see a small but dense blond pubic bush. The boy’s penis is about 5 inches of hard boy meat. You see a clear drop of his fluid on the tip. His balls hang low in the heat of the day. You see no hair on his sac. You look down again and see his legs, his legs have a nice muscle tone to them and the boy is starting to get some light blond hairs on his calves. You look back up to the boy’s face. The boy smiles at you. You are blinded by sunlight shining off his braces and the beauty of the smile. You know that this boys smile would melt the heart of anyone who would look upon it. The boy steps forward and gives you a kiss. You feel the boy’s tongue rub your lips, so you open your mouth to let his tongue in. The boy’s tongue rubs your teeth and gums, then moves in to explore the rest of your mouth. You feel the boy’s tongue dance around your mouth as you push your tongue into his. You run your tongue around the inside of the boy’s mouth and taste his breath. His breath has a mint after taste from some sort of mint the boy has eaten.

(more…)

Terry was happy. Well, maybe not happy, but satisfied with his life. Finally he had a steady job and a place to live, though it wasn’t much - just a crappy rooming house. Truth be told, the job wasn’t great, either, but after 5 years as a bum on the street asking for handouts, well, that stuff got old, and this was better. He was clean, and he liked it. He was off the booze, and for once, he didn’t miss it. He *did* miss being with a woman, though, missed it badly.

It was late, nearly 7 o’clock, and Terry was still there cleaning out wastebaskets. Basically, he was a gofer, low man on the totem pole - if there was a lousy job to be done in the office, he did it. But he didn’t mind. It was better than life on the street. And most of the employees liked him.

“Damn, Elizabeth! What are we supposed to do?” his boss yelled into the phone. He was talking to his wife, and seldom did he adopt that tone with her. Mr. Johnson was all decked out in coat and tails - black tie. “Can’t you get someone else?” An inaudible response. “Well, isn’t he old enough that …?” A long pause - Mr. Johnson was getting a bit of his own back from his wife. “I’m sorry, dear, I understand, but I can’t miss this dinner, you know that.” More talking. Mr. Johnson glanced at Terry, who carried the wastebasket bag out of the room. “I’ll call you back,” he heard his boss say, as he hung up the phone.

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12-year old Lance looked into 11-year-old Charlie’s eyes. He spoke quietly so he would not be heard by the man down the hall. “I heard my mom and dad before they left. Mom didn’t want Uncle Tom to sit for us this weekend. You know why?”

“Why?” Charlie asked, mildly bored, mildly interested.

“She says he’s ‘too old to be a bachelor.’ Know what that means?” Lance asked excitedly.

“No, what?”

“He’s *gay*, that’s what. Mom thinks Uncle Tom is gay, and I bet he is, too.”

Charlie was taken aback. “You mean he … she didn’t want him to be with you because he ….”

“… because he likes boys,” Lance said, grinning ear to ear, with an exaggerated lisp, flipping his wrist.

Charlie got the joke. “Uncle Tom is a fag …,” he started, then started laughing - too loud. Lance went up to him quickly and put his hand over Charlie’s mouth.

“Shhhh … he’ll hear you,” Lance said in an urgent whisper. Charlie shut up. Lance went on. “He thinks he’s so cool, that nobody knows. Why don’t we find out how cool he is?”

(more…)

Jonathan looked, for the most part, like a typical teenager. During the summer months he usually dressed in shorts that were slightly too big and some sort of logo T-shirt, “Nike” or something like that, and a pair of sneakers. At 14, he was sort of tall for his age, about 5′ 9″ with good, natural muscle developement. His dirty blonde hair was cut in a neat crew style, and he had a golden tan that accented his large steel blue eyes. In short, if naked, he would resemble the statues of greek youth.

Larry on the other hand, was short at 5′ 6″, with dark auburn hair and hazel eyes, and virtually no tan at all. At 48, while not a bad looking man, he had started to develope a little “middle age spread”.

Larry saw Jonathan every morning as he left for work, during the school year while he waited on the bus, and during the summer, when he would work in his yard early, to beat the midday heat. Then he would see him again in the evening, as he returned from work, either playing in his yard with some of the neighborhood kids or raking leaves in the fall. Jonathan only lived three houses down the street from Larry, so it was not unusual for them to see each other, and even speak to one another when the opportunity presented it’self. Larry kenw Jonathan’s mother Brenda, but was only aquainted with his step-father Arty.

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I had just gotten back from the doctor’s office. Like most men, I didn’t go until it was clear, even to me, that I was quite ill and couldn’t ignore it any longer. I walked into his office where he greeted me as he always did whenever I came in.

“Hi Jeff. Boy, you really look like shit!” Gotta love that bedside manner.

“Gee, thanks Doc,” I replied sarcastically. “What’s next? I’m ugly and my mother dresses me funny?” He just chuckled and ushered me into the exam room where he took blood, made me give him a urine sample, and generally did doctor things.

“You’ve got a raging sinus infection. You’re running a temp of 103. I’d like to admit you, but you’re not going to go for that, are you?” He asked me.

“Nope doc, you’re right yet again. Just write me a prescription and I’ll get it filled.”

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Chapter 1 It all started with Mr. Adamson

Summer jobs were tough to come by, so when I managed to line up several lawn cutting jobs I was happy. I’d cut each lawn once a week and do some extra clean up work when needed. The pay was OK and as I got to know my customers better, the job became easier and more interesting. The Adamsons were one of the better customers. Both of them were teachers. She had been my fifth grade teacher and Mr. Adamson was my high school math teacher. From May through June it had been the same each time. I would cut the lawn and then knock on the door. Mr. or Mrs. Adamson would give me a check. They would always ask me in for a cold drink. One day in July, I was working up a sweat when I noticed Mr. Adamson watching from his second floor window. I could only see him when I made the turn at the far end of the lawn.

He seemed to move back into the shadows of the room when I turned and pushed my mower in his direction. I finished and as usual I went to the back door and knocked. Mr. Adamson came to the door dressed in his robe. He seemed a little different this morning, almost as though the heat of the July summer morning was getting to him. It was obvious that he was naked under his robe. It was slightly open and although I couldn’t really see anything I found myself looking. I realized I may have been staring too long but when I looked up and saw a small smile on Mr. A’s face. We stood there for a second just looking at each other. I guess we were somewhere between being embarrassed and excited. I had seen lots of naked guys before but today there was a strange electricity to the situation.

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Now it is W, a boy of the gang of the adults, in the town of the mountain where we passed the family the summer vacations. Me 13, 14, 15 see an old picture, in the terrace of the pool, the dance of Saturdays in the afternoon. Both, predator and prey are there. There was more people but all seem spectators, all know, they wait, they want that it happens, however neither are aware of the essence of the moment. W invites me to go for a walk with its motorcycle.

At the beginning I held on to the bar of behind and cost me work to maintain the balance. He stops the motorcycle after a very closed curve in which I was about to fall. He told me that holds on strong to their waist that he will run a little fast. With fear my hands surrounded their torso tenuously. But to the following curve I had to hold on strong and in the following one I had to hit my cheek to their back. Curves and more curves, the heat of his body, the coolness of the air, the scent of the pines, I felt happy, very happy tight against his strong body. He told me that he had to go by his apartment, because his girlfriend waited him, but that will be only a few minutes and after that he carry me to my house. When entering in the apartment he calls to his girlfriend, she doesn’t answer. She was on the bed; their body naked back up, half covered by a savanna. I knew her from the pool, she was a blond and very pretty girl and with an impressive body, I had masturbated many times thinking on her. She turn her face, and the unexpected surprise that both were there made she put red of shame and of rage, I left and stops out, I heard like they discussed, then she crosses like an exhalation before me, I heard she pulled up her small motorcycle and she left as quickly as possible. I be confused and without knowing that to do.

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My name is Matt. At the time of this story I was twenty years old, five feet and ten inches tall, one-hundred thirty nine pounds. My hair was light brown, and I had a somewhat muscular build, not too many muscles, but no flab either.

It was the last week of August in 1982, and the final few days of summer camp at “Lake Hiawatha” in northern Michigan. Most of the kids had gone home already, but about a dozen youngsters remained to soak up the sun and enjoy the last days before the start of school in a couple weeks. As well, only two of us counselors remained to finish up the weeks activities. My friend Pete was in charge of the eight to twelve year olds, and I was left with the thirteen to fifteen year olds, of which there were only two, Dylan and Kyle.

Dylan was fourteen, very slender, dark tan, dark brown hair, about five feet tall, one-hundred pounds at best, and very shy. Kyle on the other hand was fifteen, slim to medium build, muscular and defined for his age, about five feet and four inches tall, one-undred and fifteen pounds, and lighter skin tone but not totally white, except where the sun couldn’t reach due to his seemingly constant wearing of his swim trunks. He was also very outgoing and quiet a handful at times.

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