Tag Archives: kid

TIMFuck: Sam Porter, Jacob James and Alex Kage

When real life couple Sam Porter and Jacob James heard their fuck toy for the day was going to be Alex Kage, they got pretty excited. So excited, in fact, Sam can’t wait for the kid to arrive and dives right in, eating out his boyfriend’s ass. Once Alex gets to the alley, the guys are quick to welcome him — and Alex is just as quick to surrender, eagerly inviting the hot ‘n’ hung Euro studs to use and abuse both of his holes to their heart’s content.

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TIMFuck: Dayton O’Connor and Kyle Ferris

There’s no mercy as Dayton O’Connor takes immediate control of cumpup Kyle Ferris’ holes. He doesn’t let up until he’s fucked Kyle raw and deposited a mutually satisfying load deep in the kid’s guts.

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Dark Passengers Series

Dark Passenger: Volunteering for Molestation

Not until December 19, 1985, would I actually utter the words, “I am gay.” Interestingly enough, I’d be considered an “adult” at that time, just barely 18.

Between 15 and 18 years old, I plunged into the world of sex. My classmates spent their time experimenting with alcohol and weed, neither of which I even attempted at the time. Sex turned out to be my drug of choice.

Shoving my cock under stalls in bathrooms provided some satisfaction, but I am an analytical sort and I needed to understand what drove me into these situations. Satan? The Devil did actually turn out to be a leading contender.

You see, around this time, MTV came on the air. My father absolutely forbade cable television from ever coming into our home. But MTV did provide one good quality. For my parents, Satan moved from FM radio to MTV. I finally got my first clock radio.

In the years prior, the only music I was allowed on the JC Penney piece-of-shit my parents called a “stereo” was Barry Manilow and Christian music (including Christmas albums). I distinctly recall having to return the vinyl of Billy Joel to K-mart because my parents felt it as “inappropriate.” I did successfully get an Air Supply and Alan Parsons Project album in there somewhere.

In other words, my parents were very, very restrictive on my options.

The Internet didn’t exist. Deep within the thick white pages of our phone book, I did find the Gay and Lesbian Center of Atlanta. I would occasionally call and hang up. Eventually, I would speak with the “youth counselor” there.

I recall he was the first person to explain the mechanics of gay sex, including what a “blowjob” was. I didn’t understand where “blow” came from. Told you I was analytical.

In the end, this fucking pervert drove his nasty ass out to near my house. I biked to his location. How we found each other without cell phones still amazes me (then again, I lived just east of bumfuck in the middle of nowhere).

We walked into the woods and, I would say, he was probably the first man I officially fucked. Yes. If you were the “youth counselor” for the Atlanta Gay and Lesbian Center in 1982 or 1983, I was the kid who fucked you.

In his mind, it was all about “educating” me. He explained cleaning out and expelling the cum after it was shot in your hole. Condoms were never discussed.

My next experience with with a man in a black van. Yes. I crawled into a van with a man I’d just met in a Sears bathroom. I’d gotten his phone number off the bathroom wall.

I recall his cock as being huge. He had a lover and lived in downtown Atlanta. Somehow, I got out of the house one weekend and (as a 16 year old) drove to a store to meet him. He took me the rest of the way downtown.

After a dinner, we ended up at his place and I fucked his lover. I’ll never forget him in his jock, his legs behind his ears, begging for my cock. I was so much smaller than the black van man, who had a thick and long but a little limp 9 inches.

As I look back, I know it was stupid to put my trust into these men I never really knew. But my only method to find people was the phone book and bathroom wall.

Those two strangers probably define my memories from that time. One good (van guy) and one weird (counselor). As a teenager, too young to comprehend and too horny to stop myself, I continued to put myself into situations where older men would have sex with me.

 

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I Cum with References

I Cum with References

My ad on Craigslist read something like this:

VERY QUIET TOP seeks bottom for the following….

I don’t want a lot of back and forth. Ideally, there’s none. If you’re as slutty as I hope and you crave cum like a bottom should, the first e-mail to me should be your pic and your location.

You know your place is to be a bottom… a place for me to get pleasure. I don’t care whether you get anything out of it. I don’t care whether you’re ready or not. I don’t give a shit if you’re straight or bi or gay, old or young, hot or not. You are for a topman’s pleasure and nothing more. Your mouth and ass are available for my use.

I will fuck, mouth then ass. I might switch back and forth, so if you don’t like the taste of shit, then your ass better be clean.

I am quiet. I am not loud. I don’t yell. I don’t have to make a noise to fucking tear your ass up, use you, zip up and kick your ass out. I don’t care if you cum.

Since you’ll probably ask, I’m 38 years old with brown hair and brown eyes. I’m 6 foot 3 inches tall at 220 pounds, so it’s pretty tall and average. I love poppers, so have some available. If you want lube, make sure it’s on or in your ass. I just prefer spit — yours. I have a 7 1/2 inch cut cock that’s pretty damn thick. I’m neg, exclusively top and honestly don’t pay much attention to who I fuck. If you’re hot, even better. If you’re not, your ass better be damn good.

Be available. Want it. Or don’t bother me. It’s not based on your convenience. It’s based on mine.

When I post this ad, I get a collection of the usual crap along with a few of the sincere. Not too long after my post, another post appeared:

VERY QUIET TOP seeks bottom for the following…. Anyone Been?

Anyone been to see this guy? His post sounds way fucking hot, but would love to hear more before I take the plunge…..

Maybe he didn’t think I was paying attention or that I don’t have multiple e-mail addresses. I don’t know. But I couldn’t let this opportunity pass me by. I used three different e-mail addresses across multiple services to give myself the references I needed. Here’s one.

He’s north of the city a ways and for some people it’s a little far. He fucks good. Really nice cock.

After a little while, I got this response from my alias address.

His ads just get me so hot. Very concerned that he is DDF as I am in a super long term and never BB. Do you feel reasonably comfortable with him? Is it safe there?

I responded.

I felt very safe. It’s in a subdivision just off the interstate. I know he’s quiet, like he says. He looks healthy, has a wedding band, looks like he has a baby and a wife. And he really does fuck good. Have you heard something else? I’m just curious since I’ve been there twice.

A few minutes later, he responded.

Nope, haven’t heard a bad thing yet. His ad gets me hot as hell and I have been aching to go over even though its a really long drive. Just probing a bit before I take my first plunge in years – I know the risks but would like to be reasonably sure that I am as safe as can be.

So I responded once more from the alias.

He’s certainly a good top and well worth the plunge in my estimation. Go for it!

Just after the e-mail went out, my other account popped up with an e-mail from the guy. Obviously, all the nice things I said about myself worked.

(Oh, and for you folks out there, each e-mail I sent used different punctuation, capitalization, cadence and style to assure the bottom couldn’t figure out it was me. The above e-mails were indeed copied-and-pasted. I only corrected the bottom’s crummy spelling.)

We exchanged a bit before he felt ready to go. Of course, a few obligatory pics went back and forth. Eventually, after the usual coddling you have to do with flighty bottoms, he agreed to come by my house.
I’d turned off all the lights in the late fall afternoon. My cover story had the wife and kid at her sister’s house for the day. I’d unfolded the baby playpen, scattered a few baby things around the living room and slipped on my wedding band. I darkened the master bedroom. Sometimes, with the skittish ones, it seems best to prevent them from seeing what they’re doing.

He arrived. I answered the door in a t-shirt and shorts. He was a little taller than I expected, but not much wider. In fact, he looked as if he’d lost a little weight. He seemed a little chatty but I ignored it, grabbed him by his hand and guided him upstairs. He passed the playpen and other baby things.

“How old is your son?” he asked.

I stopped on the stairs, halfway up. I dropped his hand, turned around and stared at him. I paused, and when I finally spoke, my tone was flat and non-judgmental. But I said the words quietly with force: “Would you like to talk or fuck?”

He stared back and I could see the glimmer of fright turn into lust. I didn’t move. I just looked into his brown eyes evenly waiting for his answer.

“Fuck.” It was almost a whisper… and a resignation.

I turned around and continued up the stairs and into my room. As I slipped into the darkness, I began removing the only two articles of clothing I had on. He came in and started to move toward me as I climbed on the bed.

“Clothes,” I said, again quietly and in that flat tone. He backed away and got the hint. Stripping down took him a little longer with shoes and socks, but soon he was naked too. When he reached toward me, he seemed to want to come into an embrace, something he was probably used to with his lover. I reached out to his face. Maybe he thought at first it was for me to gently caress him. I didn’t. I guided the slightly open mouth to me semi-erect cock.

He went to work, hungrily. He worked my hard-on until it was full and throbbing. A couple of times he wanted to come up and get more lovey dovey, but I kept him on task. He slobbered good on my cock and kept the attention going.

I snorted some poppers and enjoyed the sensation, directing him to lick my balls a little. Then I moved him to fuck his mouth. I held the back of his head and started thrusting. I’m not long but my head is big. My cock went deep enough to get him gagging but I didn’t care.

After the wave of pleasure ended, I let him up and moved him toward me. Again, he seemed to think it was for an embrace, but after I pushed his body and legs where it needed to go, he got the drift. His ass hovered over my cock, poised at his hole. I began to push him down.

“Lube? Where’s the…” he started to speak, reaching toward the nightstand.

“No,” I hissed.

He immediately jerked his hand back like it had touched a hot burner.

My cock broke through and he bounced off it fast. I know it stung, but I didn’t care. He was spitting on his hand and rubbing his asshole, but I kept persistent pressure on his thighs to sit down and arched my back. He relaxed a little and seemed to let me in again, a little further, but came off again quickly.

“I just need a little…” he again started.

“Get off me.” I said through gritted teeth.

“What?” he seemed confused.

“Get the fuck off me!”

He got the hint. I crawled off the bed tried to start pushing him down.

“What…” this fucker was plain stupid.

“Lay on your stomach and shut the fuck up.” Again, I lacked passion or hate. It was a command. He obeyed. I put my cock at his face and let him suck it a little, then pulled it out and climbed on top. I opened his ample cheeks and spit on his hole a couple of times. Maybe he thought I was going to eat him out, I didn’t. With one hand on his back and the other on his cock, I found his hole. Then, in one swift movement, I laid down on him and shoved my cock into him.

That moment, it was like riding a bronco. He yelped in pain and pushed up, just high enough for me to wrap my arms around him, shove in deeper and latch my legs around his side.

“No!” he screamed.

“Shut the fuck up.”

He was tense and seeming to start crying or wining. The bucking stopped though.

“Relax or it will hurt more,” I whispered.

With that, the tension began to release, but he was still crying or something. I began to move my cock a little in and out, while maintaining my grip and assuring he wouldn’t escape. He ass was tight. Too tight. But I didn’t care. I fucked.

“Ow ow ow” he was now whispering it like a mantra.

“Shut up.” I growled.

He relaxed even more and began to quiet down. Finally he was flat on the bed and I loosened my grip. My pace quickened as my cock slid in and out of his ass more easily. I knew he was not enjoying it. But he had resigned to it. He let me have my way.

I really began savoring the warm sensation of his ass and its intense tightness. I began to buck against him, pushing my cock as deep as it could go and adding a little force to my down-stroke. I lifted my own body off his and used gravity along with some back muscles to really push my hard cock into him. He grunted a little with each thrust. I wonder if it had started to feel any better, but I didn’t care really that much.

I paused, leaned up and angled my cock a little to scrape the right side of his ass walls. He flinched with a little change in pace, but didn’t try to get the invader out of his body. After a moment, I moved back into the position, hunched over him, to use my ass to really plunge into his. After a moment, the cum boiled up.

Another pause, this time for a snort of poppers and a wait to feel that warm rush come over me. Then I resumed with faster and shorter strokes, deep inside him, still feeling it all. His body was relaxed and resigned to the onslaught now. I varied my pace a little, speeding up and slowing down, riding the wave of pleasure with a good popper hit until I was there.

I didn’t ask permission. I didn’t utter a word. I just pushed my cock in deep and held it there. And I held my breath for a moment, as the final pulse throbbed through my cock and the first burst of cum slammed into his ass walls.

A second and third throb unleashed propelled my spunk into his raw ass and then I resumed my fuck job. I began moving my hips, eyes closed and hanging on. I enjoyed every moment and every subsequent throb of my cock as I continued to dump my load into his ass. And churning up the baby batter in his guts, I made sure his ass was coated and completely full of my cum. I continued, just as hard as always, pushing the cum deeper and deeper inside him.

Then I stopped and laid there. I didn’t move. I didn’t hang on. If he wanted to buck me off, he could have. But he didn’t. He stayed right where he was, my cock still inside him. I waited a bit, recovering from the poppers and the intensity of my load release.

I rolled off finally, my cock popping out of his ass. He stayed on his stomach. He didn’t move. He just breathed.

I eventually crawled off the bed, walked around until my cock was again poised at his mouth. He opened up and cleaned my cock off of the remaining cum and ass juices. When I was satisfied, I backed up, yanking my cock from his willing mouth.

“Leave,” was all I said.

He didn’t move immediately, but seemed to wait a moment until he knew for certainty what I’d said. Then he climbed off the bed and gathered his clothes. I ignored him, went to the bathroom to start the shower and get the stink of him off me. He seemed to be taking to long. I looked out as he was sitting down to put his socks on.

“I said, ‘LEAVE.'” This time I put emphasis on the word. His eyes darted up and looked at me with a mixture of hate and self-disgust. He stopped with his socks, picked up his shoes and walked downstairs and out the front door.

Dark Passengers Series

Dark Passenger: The Beginning of Me

Ending the fucked up relationship with my molester caused me to develop an appetite for sex. After all, I was a 15-year-old boy. While my friendship with the straight classmate couldn’t endure school starting again, I had discovered the bathrooms at stores that would abate my sexual appetite.

Lucky for me, my parents went to “town” on a weekly basis — just like clockwork. Even better, the bathroom at the discount department store (a predecessor to modern-day Target) turned out to be frequented by cocksuckers.

So every week, we’d go and I’d wander through the store only to end up at the bathroom in the back. And usually every week, I’d get sucked off under the stall.

Weekly, this would happen. The quality of men turned out to be less than attractive. But even me — a thin, pimply faced, geeky kid — got sucked greedily by men. I’d come to recognize different shoes of the frequenters there (one old man I would never forget and always avoid) and quality of suck jobs (some better, some worse).

Rarely would I engage in a conversation and, since I relied heavily on my parents for transportation, my only choice in these circumstance turned out to be the blowjob. As I think back, I don’t recall having the desire to fuck ass or to suck cock in return. I used men, much the way I do now, but I didn’t recognize it as “using.”

I got off. Men wanted to suck me off. So I let them. In a way, I was a passive top. I got it hard and they could do what they liked. I still enjoy that scene on occasion — an aggressive bottom just using me as his play toy. My cock isn’t as big as all those dildos from porn stars, but it’s a helluva lot warmer and it spurts my own little joy juice.

And, in a way, I continued to be molested. I chose that path. I let it happen. Men continued it. Men wanted to. I wanted men to.

 

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