LGBT Stories

“GAWD DAMMIT ALL TA HELL, LESTER T!” the cute sixteen-year-old boy-slut hollered as he grappled for balance in the back seat of the police cruiser. “THAT’S MY ASS HOLE YER FUCKIN’, NOT RHONDA JEAN’S BIG, FAT PUSSY! TAKE IT EASY!”

Grabbing a handful of the kid’s darkly thick, unruly hair, Sheriff Lester T. Coultrane barked, “Shet up that hole in yer face, boy, afore I run you in fer solicitin’.”

Jimmy Joe had heard that one afore. Many times, in fact, since the small-town Sheriff first got a piece ‘o his ass nigh unto two years back. Jimmy’d been workin’ the nasty-assed bathroom out at that sty of a trucker’s rest stop on I-20, giving ten dollar bow jobs and sellin’ his sweet ass for twenties from ’bout the time he hit the seventh grade. Somebody had to bring home the bacon, what with his daddy servin’ time in prison fer aggervated assault and momma nuthin’ mor’n a damned lush, constantly missin’ work on account of bein’ too hung over from the night afore. If it weren’t fer Jimmy Joe whorin’ his teen body they sure ’nuff wouldn’t be able ta make rent on their trailer park lot and, while Jimmy Joe didn’t give two hoots ’bout his booze-hag momma, he didn’t plan on bein’ homeless. That rickety-assed, run-down trailer least-wise put a roof over his pretty-boy head.

Lester T was ramming his short, but fat, cop’s cock in and out of Jimmy Joe’s knothole like some sort of damned jack rabbit on speed. His big, hairy barrel-belly rested in the small of the trailer park boy’s back, jigglin’ like a bowl full ‘o jelly as he fucked that sweet hole fast as he could. The hick Sheriff knew nuthin ’bout really pleasurin’ his fuck boy. Naught once in the years he’d been bangin’ the kid had he ever thought to play with Jimmy Joe’s ripe, pouting boy-tits, or to wrap his big, burly arms ’round the boy’s youthfully muscular body and caress him whilst he plowed hell outa him, let alone to maybe once—jest once—grab ahole of Jimmy Joe’s twitching prick and jerk him off. Hell, no! All the married cop knew to do was to shove Jimmy’s head inta his hairy crotch and hold onto him while Jimmy gave him the all-around best blow jobs Lester T’d ever had in his life and then throw the boy over on his belly, roughly finger his hole and fuck hell out of that hot, grasping chute until he creamed deep up inside.

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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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Things had been rough since my old boss found out that I was gay and decided to fire me. I had gotten a job in the hospital doing orderly work just to make enough to put food on the table. I liked it because the work was easy and I could go anyplace in the building while wearing the white jacket.

Today was the type of day that made me want to work 24 hours. I had been cleaning near the outpatient examination rooms. I entered the last one in the section and came face to face with high school age boy who was a real hunk. His eyes were a dark green and his hair was brown.

He was startled by me but said, “Hi Doc.”, in this great adolescent voice that wanted to crack. I just nodded as he continued,”will you be giving me my sports physical instead of Doctor Walters?”

“Yes”, I answered, unable to resist. “Remove your shirt and T-shirt and have a seat on the table.”

He unbuttoned his shirt and turned, putting it on the chair. As he began pulling the T-shirt up and off I continued,”I’ll need to know your name and other information and find out if you’ve every had a complete physical before.”

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I lived in a great house. It was two stories high with a large attic above. There was just enough room on the lot to hold the house and a small yard. You would see homes like this in any older small town in Central Jersey. It was the end of November when I discovered the best feature of the home.

I had decided to dig around in the attic and find last years Christmas decorations. I knew they were up there with the boxes of old clothing and other memories. I groped my way up the creaky steps and was reaching for the light cord when I realized that there was a dim glow from the home right next door. Looking out I could see where the attic of that home had been turned into a bedroom. It was a truly “all boys” room with plastic models and rock posters. A bed filled one corner. It was covered with rumpled sheets.

One of the teenage neighbors’ sons lay on the bed. It was Chuck who was about 16 years old. He had cut my lawn this past summer to earn extra money. I had watched him working each time. Dressed only in his OP shorts, he would parade back and forth, pushing the lawn mower. It made me wish for a larger lawn.

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My best friend Timmy and I loved fireworks, so we always looked forward to July 4th. One year, the fireworks were very, very different.

We always rode our bikes downtown early so we could get a good spot to watch the parade from. The year we were both 14, though, Timmy woke up late and by the time we got started the street was packed. We tried our best to find a break in the crowd we could get through, but people were packed so tight along the curb we finally gave up.

“Damn it!” Timmy said as we stood by our bikes. “Why’d I have to wake up late, today of all days! It’s gonna start soon.”

“Yeah. I know,” I said, putting my arm around his shoulder and trying in vain to see over the heads of the tall adults on the street. I turned around and scanned the buildings. “Don’t worry about it. Maybe we can figure out something…”

“What, you mean like get into one of these buildings and go upstairs?”

“Yeah.”

It didn’t look promising. The merchants and office managers all locked up their places before coming out to view the parade. It sure as hell wasn’t worth risking breaking into one of them.

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“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.

Now, curiously enough, if a boy comes in looking for women, Joe turns him out. But if the kid wants a man, Joe might let him stay. And Joe is the furthest thing from gay. Partly, I think, he does this because he doesn’t want this place to get the reputation as a brothel for horny straight kids. One teenager gets laid by a masseuse, you can lay even odds he’s going to shoot off his mouth to every other kid he runs into, and the next thing you know we lose our license. A gay kid, or one that’s just curious, isn’t going to tell anyone anything. He’s going to keep what happens in my office a secret. Also, Joe’s known me for years, man and boy. He knows I’m gentle, considerate and that I never, ever let things get out of hand. I don’t push myself on any client. Never have, never will.
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DRAKE, ANDY, & JORDAN - TODAY

He couldn’t use his real name so he called himself Drake. The name simply sounded sexy to him: like any one named Drake was a natural born fuck machine. He kept his real name secret, of course, so neither Andy nor his son, Jordan, knew who he really was.

Andy clapped his son on the shoulder. “You’ll be okay, won’t ya buddy?” he asked him.

“Sure, dad.” Jordan said, “Drake is gonna let me take over his computer so I can play some games!” Jordan acted like he couldn’t wait for his dad to go to his business appointment.

“Hell, Andy,” Drake said, “I just hope he likes the games I got on there for him.”

Andy laughed it off, “Don’t worry about it, Drake. He’ll take on with any ole game you got.” Drake gave Jordan a little shove toward the office where his computer was - just to let him know it was okay for him to go on in and get started. Jordan didn’t hesitate and ran into Drake’s office.

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My neighbor and his wife had to go out of town suddenly to visit her mother who’d had a stroke. A mild one - and she was fine - but it was a good excuse to make the trip they’d put off for too long. They left their son, Mike, home so he could keep up his practice. It was his second year on his school’s football team, and he didn’t want to miss any of the late summer practices.

They asked me to stay at their house to look after Mike. I’ve been a bachelor all my life and wasn´t used to kids, but then Mike wasn’t a little kid any more and could pretty much take care of himself. His folks just wanted some kind of authority figure around to make sure he ate some proper meals and wore clean underwear and didn’t tear up the house, and since I lived right next door it was no trouble at all.

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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 hated when I had to travel to one of the other stores in our chain. I really loved being at my store, and did not see any need for me to travel long distances to help when another manager had to leave for a meeting or vacation. My store was the only one in my region that had two full time managers. I was general manager of merchandising, while the other was general manager of sales.

I had just spent a week at a store some 30 miles north of my own store in the Northern part of Kentucky, and thought I was going to get to go back there for a while, when the main office called and told me that the manager at our Jellico, Tennessee store had taken seriously ill, and I would have to drive down and fill in for him for a couple of weeks. I went to my motel and picked up my things and checked out, gassed up my van, and headed for I-75 south. I was just north of Cincinnati, when I saw a young Marine hitch hiking on the side of the interstate so I pulled over and asked where he was headed.

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Oh, how I love my job! I’ve been teaching here at the SEX INSTITUTE FOR BOYS for a year now and it’s been much more enjoyable than when I was a plain old school teacher. I teach the beginner’s bondage course for young boys, ages nine and ten. It’s the earliest they can join by law without parental consent (thank the gods that be for sex reform laws!). Most boys have already been fooling around with their friends since they were toddlers, but there are always some that are more adventurous and want to try something new that maybe they’ve seen their parents doing.

I just finished a class a few moments ago, with 3 ten year olds and 1 nine, each one beautiful in his own way. I began by explaining what bondage was all about and how for some people being restrained in some way is a big turn on, but you must never try to hurt someone while they’re helpless; unless they want you to,of course. S&M was another course. I showed the boys pictures and illustrations from the textbook, watching them squirm in their seats as they viewed the various techniques, obviously getting erections.

“Alright,” I said. “Time for a demonstration. Who wants to go first?” I looked pointedly at the small bed, which had posts and straps on the four corners.

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Uncle Phil was babysitting me tonight. Personally, I thought I was getting a little old to really need a sitter -after all, I turned 10 almost two months ago- but I didn’t mind when it was him. He usually brought along a movie to watch, something my mom and dad wouldn’t let me rent at the store and I had told him secretly to bring along. Once I asked him to bring “Dawn Of The Dead”, but he said I wasn’t old enough for one THAT scary yet. That made me want to see it even more, so I kept pestering him until he finally brought it. It was about walking dead people eating LIVING people, and after watching ten minutes I was closing my eyes and telling him to turn it off, it was so gross. He never said “I told you so” or anything, and after that I trusted him when it came to movies. Tonight he brought “Aliens”. I liked sci-fi movies with awesome special-effects, like “Terminator”, or “Star Wars”.

Uncle Phil was real old -I think he’s 35 or something- but he was always a lot of fun. He had a mustache and a short beard, brown hair like mine, and he was kinda thin like me,too. Whenever he came over he seemed to pay more attention to me than to my parents! Ever since I was real little I’d climb into his lap while he talked with my mom and dad and demand to be tickled. Then he’d start tickling me all over, sometimes pulling my shirt out of my pants so he could tickle my skin. I’d scream and yell for him to stop, but he wouldn’t until I said “uncle”, and then he’d start all over again. My dad would say, “Ryan,Uncle Phil didn’t come over just to tickle you, ya know.” And Uncle Phil would say, “Sure I did! You don’t think I’m here to see you, do ya?” (meaning my dad). That made me feel kinda special. He could play Nintendo pretty good too, sometimes even beating me at a few games. He was kinda like a big kid. Maybe it’s because he isn’t married. He didn’t even have any girl friends, which was OK by me since I didn’t care much for girls myself.

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The boy who answered the door was wearing only his briefs.
“Hi, are you Luke?” I asked.
“Yeah,” the kid replied, in a tone somewhere between non chalance and
attitude. He looked me over, sizing me up. I was wearing my summer uniform:
a tank top, tight cut-off jeans and sneakers. His gaze lingered at the bulge
in my shorts. He seemed pretty interested in it for such a young kid. I
figured he was no more than ten years old.
“I’m Mike, the building super,” I said, trying to sound cool. “Your mom
asked me to put a phone extension in her bedroom.”
“Oh, yeah,” he replied. His smile was bright. “She said you were coming
by. Come on in.” He opened the door wider and I stepped in with my tool
box.
The apartment was exactly like every other two bedroom apartment in this
building. My grandfather owned the building and I was its superintendent.
The kid led me to his mother’s room, his small butt wiggling invitingly in
the thin, white fabric of his briefs. I could easily see the crack of his
ass. My cock began to stir and rub against the denim of my shorts. I wasn’t
wearing underwear.
Luke opened the door to the bedroom and showed me where the phone jack was
to go, near the bed. Then he sat on the edge of the bed. He crossed his
legs and flexed his feet.
“Can I watch you work?” he asked me with his big, baby blue eyes smiling at
me. He was an exquisitely beautiful boy and I could see Luke would make a
fine athlete in any sport some day. His body was slender. His legs were
fleshy and hairless. My cock was now blue-steel hard and the head was just
beginning to peak out from my shorts.

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I wasn’t drunk when I left the bar, considering that I had to ride my
motorcycle home. I usually can get plastered because I usually go to bars in
my neighborhood, but tonight I went to the leather bar across town to hang out
with some rough-trade friends. I was dressed for the part too: leather jacket,
T-shirt, blue jeans, boots and black leather chaps and cap-total leatherman.
And I had more than my share of cruisy looks and propositions mainly from lowly
pig bottoms that’d crawl over to me a lick my boots. Since it had been only
four months since I broke up with Matt, I was not at all interested in another
bottom. Matt was in his mid-twenties and a complete flake. That I found out
around month three when he came home one night tweaking. I forgave him and
gave him another chance, which he blew the very next week. I threw him out the
next day. For the following I felt a bit lonely but I didn’t miss Matt. It
was over the next few weeks I slowly realized that losing Matt was not the
cause of my loneliness. I found myself noticing young boys more and more
often. Not boys in the sense of twinkies or teens but real boys like little
kids.

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I decided that I wanted to take Billy out for an ice cream so that we could get out of the house for a while and celebrate his 19th. I always like driving with Billy cause he loves to suck me off while I’m driving. And there is nothing that I like more … being sucked off by Billy. He is a really hot kid. When he was only 16, I discovered this about him and boy, I am so happy about it. He was in his room, apparently sleeping. I usually never disturb him when he is alone in his room. But I was really hot one night. I had been hiding my feelings for guys all those years and of course I never wanted to let on to Billy that I love sucking cock and love being sucked. I had never been sucked by a young kid before nor had I ever sucked young flesh. I had come home from work late one night and I had assumed that Billy was in his room sleeping. After getting myself ready for bed, I took a hot shower and had only a towel wrapped around my waist. I was so incredibly horny because of this window cleaner that was cleaning the windows in the office.

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Most nights when I go to the “garden” for a little sex, there is usually this one youth there that always gets my electricity going. I’m told he is 16 years old. He has really thick black hair on his head, very dark eyes and a magnificent physique for his age … or so it always appears when I have seen him walking around in the darkness. I usually go to the garden at night. Colors are always not as they really appear at night, so an exact description of him is quite hard to accomplish. I always follow him around, but he never seems to be interested in me, so I always end up being a little frustrated. You all know that feeling, I’m sure. You see a hunk you want to go off with, get undressed with, make love with and eventually be filled with his cum, but you never get the chance. He doesn’t seem to be interested in you. Well this particular hunk is “that person” for me on very many occasions. All I have to do is get out of my car and see him walking around and I’m already rock-hard with precum flowing. He is an incredible turn-on (if you like that age group of course!).

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“Are you gay?” Peter asked me suddenly, his big black eyes boring into me.

Let me explain; Peter is the 14-year-old son of an old friend. He and I were sitting on the deck outside his family’s summerhouse. A soft clear morning sun promised us another warm summer day filled with light, so typical of the West Coast of Sweden. His parents were shopping in the city and I was enjoying a late breakfast, Peter keeping me with company having nothing better to do.

I hesitated before answering him. I thought about how I could evade his question, but how could I deny him the truth, any truth? Still I stalled.

“Why do you ask?” I tried, hiding behind the coffee-cup.

“I want to know.” He looked over at me, stretching his agile body so he could better stare me down with those eyes I could not resist looking at. He was wearing a white t-shirt and a small pair of white shorts, emphasizing his long tanned legs. The skin on his legs was smooth and soft, like a girl.

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“Are you sad?” John’s clear treble voice broke through my brooding.

“Huh?” Eloquent as ever, that’s me.

“You look sad.” John persisted.

“I’m not.” I answered without conviction. “Let’s go on with the alphabet, so we can finish in time for a dip in the pool.”

John looked at me with knowing eyes, before turning back to the textbook in front of him. Shit, that boy had an uncanny ability to look through me. Of course I was unhappy. My girlfriend had just ditched me after 4 years. Shit! Why did she have to do that? Not loving her? Some bullshit! Course I loved her, didn’t I?

I forced myself back to the reality; my lecture in Hebrew with ours neighbor’s son John. “Alef, Beth, Gimmel, it’s not that difficult John.”
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“Tom, what is this?” I heard Arne from the bathroom, his voice absolutely had started breaking now; the usually clear angelic soprano voice was cracking with a bit raspy tenor. Well, it could not be avoided.

“I cannot see through walls!” I yelled back from the kitchen where I had started on our dinner. Arne was staying the whole weekend because his parents - my brother and his wife - had left on a much needed get-together-again trip for the weekend. I had opted to stay home Saturday evening for once, staying with Arne. Of course he would have been a smashing success at my club, but I thought it would be better to leave a 13 year old out of it! “Come and show me what you mean!” I yelled to him through the wall.

Arne’s unruly black hair followed by his big brown eyes came around the door, and triumph he placed the strange object on the kitchen table. Oh God! I had forgotten to tidy it away before his arrival! It was my little secret, a big douche with at thick black nozzle and a roomy red balloon.
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“Is it loaded?” Jan looked into my eyes with a soft smile on his lips.

“What loaded?” I answered trying to concentrate on the task at hand, and not about Jan’s warm backside pressing against me. The blinding rays of sunshine that fell on us through the open hatch above us made his soft skin glow.

At what age did boys start to grow a beard, I suddenly wondered. Jan had not a trace of facial hair. His skin was soft as a peach, smooth with the very soft down-like hair young kids have. 14 years old was what he had told me, and any beard growth was clearly far away. But his puberty has started, that was clear. His voice was kind of broken, and he had a few precious hairs between his legs - so much I had seen already. And his dick was no longer a small kid’s plaything. But beard - no, that was way off.

“Is it loaded?” Jan repeated. Without I really noticed it, Jan pressed his body softly back against mine.
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