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STORY: A Place To Hang Out (Mg,Mb,pedo,cons)
bobandcarole
2006-05-30 22:12:23 UTC
Disclaimer: The following story contains descriptions of sexual
activity
between men and minors, especially boys. If you are under 18 years of
age, READ NO FURTHER. If you are an opponent of the First Amendment of
the
U. S. Constitution, or are morally opposed to sexually explicit
fiction
involving minors, READ NO FURTHER. The following story is fantasy only
and was
written for the author's private enjoyment. Others have convinced me
to share....This fiction is not intended to contribute in any way to
illegal actions by the reader, nor is it intended to contribute in any
way to harmful acts toward children.

A Place to Hang Out, part 1 of 2

by Boisterous

When I was 41, I got divorced from my wife of 10 years and moved into a
dumpy apartment in a poor section of northeastern Portland. The
apartment
complex had a lot of single parents in it. One day after work as I
walked
up the outdoor steps to my second story apartment, Chad, a beautiful
little
urchin from the complex, sat at the top of the steps smoking a
cigarette.
Chad wore a baggy unwashed pair of gray jogging pants that had been
crudely
cut off just above the knees and nothing else. He had long blond hair
that
came to his shoulders in curls. A stray, thick curl dangled across one
eye.
He jumped when he saw that he had been caught smoking.
But he was a tough little kid, and he recovered quickly. I know he had
worse things to worry about than me. "Hello, Mr. Crawford," he chirped,
sliding to one side to give me room to pass. He still looked concerned
that
I might yell at him.
I had met him the week before, along with his wild and barely-20 year
old
mother, Cyndy. Cyndy, who had been wearing a tube top, wasted her time
by
making a pass at me. They lived in the apartment right next to mine.
I paused at the top step and gazed down at him. Skinny as he was, his
bent-over stomach had little wrinkles of skin with no fat. "Hi, Chad."
He
seemed surprised and pleased that I knew his name. "You are a little
young
to be smoking, aren't you?" I asked in a cheerful voice.
He must have sensed my friendliness because he stuck his chest out and
said, "Naw. I'll be 11 next month."
"Where's your mom?"
He looked up warily, and I gazed into his dazzling blue eyes. Freckles
nearly as big as polka dots covered his nose and forehead. "Beats me.
She
never came home last night."
I wondered how anyone, especially a mother, could ignore such a cute
kid.
"You had anything to eat today?"
"A peanut butter sandwich."
"Anything else?"
"Ain't nothing else. Just peanut butter, moldy bread and cigarettes.
Mom
doesn't shop much."
"Want to have dinner with me tonight?"
"Oh, I couldn't," he said. He gazed across the parking lot.
"That's too bad. I hate to eat alone. And I think it would be great to
get
to know you." I paused. He continued to stare into the distance. "If
you
change your mind, just knock on my door."
As I fumbled with my keys, he stood and said, "I guess I could...." He
stood.
"Let me grab a shirt."
"Don't bother. It's hot and I don't have air conditioning."
He padded eagerly into my apartment on bare feet. I lived in a studio
unit-a bedroom, kitchen, and living room all in one space. It was
identical
to the one his mother and he lived in. I wondered how they kept from
driving each other crazy. Or how they got any privacy. I grabbed a
couple
cans of Coke from the refrigerator. He stood just inside the doorway,
looking a little lost, the cigarette still in his hand. "Get rid of
the
smoke, okay?"
"Sure," he said, walking outside and flicking it over the rail. I
handed
him the Coke. "Thanks, Mr. Crawford," he said with a huge smile that
showed
a chipped incisor. He took a huge gulp that made his eyes water.
"Call me Mark. You can sit anywhere you want while I get some burgers
cooking." He sat at the kitchen table and watched me carefully, now
taking
ginger little sips from the coke. After I had the burgers in the
frying pan
and frozen fries in the oven, I said, "Man, is it ever hot. Going to
get
worse with the oven on. Mind if I get rid of some of these clothes?"
He did a double take. "No problem," he uttered enthusiastically. I went
over
to the bed side and kicked off my tennis shoes. I talked about
baseball,
especially the Seattle Mariners, as I stripped off my shirt. He stared
without any sign of embarrassment. I'm 5' 10" and 150 pounds. All my
life I
had been skinny until I neared 40 years of age. Then my stomach began
to
soften and bulge a little. Still, I looked a lot better than most 41
year
olds, so I felt comfortable having him stare. My stomach and chest are
covered with a see-through downy blanket of mostly-straight brown
hair.
Since he continued to stare, I decided to show him a little more and
dropped my pants around my ankles. I walked over to the stove to check
on
the burgers, absently scratching the crotch of my BVD's. He continued
to
watch me in silence. I went to my dresser to select a loose pair of
cotton
shorts. I didn't put a shirt on.
I got him to open up more during dinner. He talked about a range of
topics,
especially skateboarding, go-cart racing, and motorcycles. He ate
quickly.
Probably he hadn't eaten a hot meal for quite a while. Throughout
dinner, I
stared at the beautiful, nearly translucent skin that seemed stretched
too
tight across his bony chest. His nipples were tiny brown dots, small a
beauty marks. A thin, pink scar started at his chest and disappeared
beneath the waistband of his jogging shorts. It looked like the work
of a
crude surgeon, but I found it alluring. "I've noticed that you have a
scar.
Appendix surgery?"
He blushed and looked down. "A couple years ago one of my mom's
boyfriend
went nuts and tried to skin me alive. He's in prison." He glanced up
quickly and his voice lightened as he distanced himself from the
painful
memory. "Ugly, ain't it."
"No. Actually, I kind of like it." I wanted to touch it, but lacked the
courage to ask. "And the rest of you is so beautiful-handsome, I
mean-that
somehow it makes you look even more interesting."
"You mean you like it?"
"Don't get me wrong, I hate that guy for hurting you. If I could make
it go
away, I would. But I think you are a very special kid, and since it's
part
of you, I like it."
He tilted his head to one side and sat looking shy and adorable. After
we
finished eating he said, "I'll wash dishes."
"That's okay," I said, still staring at his chest and stomach. I
noticed
that he had been checking out my bare chest, as well.
"Really. I want to. To pay you back for the meal."
"No, thanks," I said quickly. After a moment, I added, "There is
something
you could do, though."
"What?"
"Pose for a couple of pictures."
He looked surprised. "Me? Why would you want to take a picture of me?"
"Because I like to take pictures of cute boys and men. And you are very
cute."
"You really think so?" He sat up straight. "You do, don't you?"
"Definitely. I could look at you all day long. Maybe if I had a couple
pictures, I would look at them all day long." He blushed again. "You
don't
need no picture. You can look at me anytime you want."
I got my 35mm camera from the closet shelf. It was already loaded with
black and white film. "Stand over by the window." He held himself rigid
as
he posed. After taking the shot, I gave him more specific instructions
on
how to pose. He tried to comply, but he was still too nervous to give
me a
good shot. As I praised his good looks and the nice job he was doing,
he
relaxed.
"Will you pose for a couple of seated pictures?"
"Sure," he said. "Take as many as you want." I put him in several poses
at
the kitchen chair, then on the sofa. The poses slowly became more
sexually
suggestive. How about laying on the bed on your side. That's it. Now
raise
one knee and put your hand on that thigh. Good. Now support your head
with
the other hand." I took several more shots. I set the camera down.
"Are you done?" he asked, looking disappointed.
"Well, those are all the poses I can think of...at least with you
dressed
like that."
"Do you want me to change my clothes?" he asked, sitting upright on the
bed.
"Actually," I said, feeling my pulse race, "I was thinking of less
clothes
rather than different ones."
A long silence stretched between us. "You want me naked?" he asked in
surprise.
"Well, that would be really cool."
He nibbled on his lip. "But why?"
"Because I think you are sexy."
"Sexy. You mean like a girl?"
"Sort of. You know how some men look at pictures of naked girls, like
in
Playboy magazine?" I swallowed hard, knowing I was taking a big risk.
"I'd like to look at a naked picture of you."
He frowned in deep thought. Without speaking, he stood and stripped
naked
in one swift motion. He stood boldly before me, his butt against the
edge
of my bed, offering his little-boy genitals to my lusty gaze. I was
surprised at how small his and perfectly formed his genitals were. His
cock, thinner than a pencil, was less than an inch long and had a
delicate
pink-colored glans at the end. His balls, pink in their hairless sac,
hung
low but were only the size of raspberries. He had no pubic hair. The
scar
that began on his chest ended atop the bump his pubic bone made over
his
penis. Another two inches lower and the boy's cock would have been
cut.
After staring for at least a minute, I remembered my camera and took a
picture.
"Am I too ugly?"
"When will you get it? I think you are beautiful as an angel."
"Is my dick too small?"
"It's just the right size for a 10 year old." I directed him to some
more
standing and seated poses, including some shots of his smooth, rounded
buttocks.
He was sitting on the bed, both knees raised so I could see the hint of
his
anus, when he asked, "When guys look at Playboy, don't they get
boners?"
"Yes, I'll bet most guys do get aroused."
"Do you have a boner from looking at me?" He was staring at the huge
lump
in my baggy cotton shorts. It was my turn to blush. "Yes," I humbly
admitted.
"Cool," he said. "Can I see it?"
"Oh, that's not a very good idea."
"Why not?"
"Because," I answered.
He didn't argue, but as he waited for me to load a new roll of film,
his
boy-cock became erect, straining upward to its proud 2 and a quarter
inches. I quickly snapped a picture of his erection, then asked him to
lie
on the bed on his stomach. I instructed him to spread his legs and
took
several more pictures. He was posed on his knees with his cheek on the
pillow so his butt stuck up in the air when he asked, "When guys look
at
Playboy, don't they think about how good it would feel to put their
boners
in the woman's pussy?"
"Yes, I suppose most men would think that."
"But I don't have a pussy."
I would have laughed out loud but the dear boy sounded so serious.
"That's right," I said simply.
He kept his ass in the air. "One of the kids I hang out with, Derek,
told
me his older brother keeps trying to talk him into letting him fuck
his
ass."
My cock had never ached so much. "Does he let him?"
"No Derek says he ain't queer." Chad wiggled his butt. "Can a
grown-up's
cock really fit in a boy's butthole?"
"I guess so." I set the camera down. "I guess it hurts a lot, but if
the
man is gentle and the boy is willing, it can definitely fit."
There was a long pause.
"Are you done taking pictures?" he asked, sounding a little
disappointed.
"Yeah, I think I am." We could hear his mother moving around in the
apartment next door. Chad got dressed and thanked me before he left.
The
moment he was out the door, I pulled my shorts down and stoked my cock
about six times. I began ejaculating all over the table.
I opened my eyes when I heard the door open. In my haste I had
neglected to
lock it. Chad stood in the doorway, his mouth hanging open. I turned
my
back and started to pull my shorts up as he slammed the door. I
thought
about going after him, then realized how stupid that would be. Instead
I
got some Kleenex and began wiping my semen off the table.

THE END
Moron Asylum
2006-05-30 22:42:34 UTC