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Subject: Baltimore Part Nine Please give generously to Nifty. Baltimore Part Nine Henry There was a neighborhood boy that ended up being one of the most passionate relationships, albeit short-lived and irregular, I had during the time I spent in Baltimore. That it evolved into that was quite unusual. Encounter 1 I met Henry in the A-1 Mart. The teenage boy was in front of the newspapers reading a comic. Dark-haired in a dark hoodie, skater type, just into his growth spurt by my estimation; a few pimples on his forehead and his crooked nose, obviously broken in the past. Sullen? Of course. I naturally went for some small talk. “X-Men?” I questioned seeing the title, “Looks interesting.” “That’s what’s on the cover isn’t it?” “Sure is,” I replied positively, adding, “I used to know a guy who was a comic artist in L.A.” “Yeah, big deal.” I got the message. “Mind if I get the paper?” The boy stepped aside just enough. “Thanks.” “Don’t mention it,” was the sarcastic reply. Okay, not every boy was game for sexual adventure; no harm in giving it a try, though. The thing is, this kid gave off a vibe that was not one of disinterest. Maybe it was my overactive imagination. Besides, I had the relationship with Josh going and I wasn’t actively looking for more. Encounter 2 Same place, in front of the newsstand in the A-1 Mart, about a week later, I ran into Henry again. “I guess you want me to move?” “Trying to get a paper.” “What if I don’t wanna move?” This was said in a way that wasn’t an invitation to a fight, more an invitation to something else. “What’s your name?” “I don’t know if I should tell you, you might be some kind of pervert.” “Could be …” I said without commitment. “That sort of thing goes on around here.” “Oh? How do you know … uh …,” I left an opening for at least the boy’s name. “Henry’s the name. I hear things … from other boys.” “Sounds interesting,” I intoned leadingly, “What’d ya hear?” “A bunch of stuff, not that I’m into that,” the teen declaimed, finishing with, “I’m not a queer.” “Good to know, Henry. Do you think I can get that paper now?” “Yeah, sure.” He moved aside with something like an expectant look. I decided to throw the lad a curve as a test. I grabbed a paper and abruptly said, “Well, gotta go. See ya `round, Henry.” I turned and went to the register without another word. If he was interested, I’d see him again. Encounter 3 It was near the alley where I next saw Henry. I was passing by and he was with some other boys I knew casually from the neighborhood. There was a cute, longer haired, blondish kid who happened to be picking something up from the ground just in front of Henry as I passed. Henry took the opportunity to say a bit too exaggeratedly, “Gee, Cam, get up off your knees.” I noticed Henry saying this and Henry noticed I noticed. Was he getting sucked by this boy? Good for him if he was. Cam didn’t appear either embarrassed or angry. My guess? Probably wasn’t sucking Henry, four to one. I kept going to Sam’s. Encounter 4 The next day, I turned the corner to my apartment and Henry was leaning halfway across the stairs trying to look casually cool. He looked like he was waiting for a while. On a school day. In the early afternoon. “Well, if it isn’t … Henry, right?” “Yep.” He didn’t move, still blocking half of the stairs. “What are you doing here?” I asked according to the script, “Shouldn’t you be in school?” “I skipped, didn’t want to go.” “Henry … I think you’re a `bad boy.'” Henry would’ve beamed except he had to maintain his cool attitude. This is just what he wanted to hear. “You better be careful,” I continued, “You might get punished if you get caught skipping school.” “I don’t give a fuck! I’m not going to get punished because I’m not gonna get caught,” Henry rose up to deliver his youthful challenge. I stepped closer. Very close. I quietly and slowly said, “Bad boys get caught and punished eventually. Sooner or later they’ll learn their lesson. I think I might just have to take you upstairs and give you a bare-assed spanking. What do you think about that, Henry?” “My old man spanked me a bunch of times when I was little, I can take it.” izmit escort “You wanna come up and prove it?” Henry lost his composure slightly. “You ain’t my old man.” “No, I’m not. You came over here, though. We’re going to go up stairs and you’re going to get your `bad boy’ lesson. Let’s go.” I headed upstairs. Henry followed. He could’ve gone the other way. I knew he wouldn’t. After opening the door and throwing my keys in the bowl near the door, I turned to Henry who looked a little unsure now that he was alone in my apartment. “Go over to the chair.” Henry hesitated for a moment. “Go,” I said with certainty. Henry did so. He was about to sit down when I stopped him. “I didn’t say sit in the chair; I just said `go over to the chair.'” Henry was just ready to come back with some attitude when I cut him off again. “Okay, I’m here so …” “Take your pants down.” “You’re not really going spank me,” the boy questioned with mild opposition. “Maybe, maybe not. Now, take down your pants, bend over and grab the arm of that chair.” “You’re not the boss of me.” “Nope,” I agreed, “But, I told you, `you’re a bad boy and you are going to learn your lesson.’ Are you ready to learn it or not?” “Okay.” The boy took the dare. He loosened his belt and dropped his jeans to his ankles. “Underwear too, `bare-assed,’ I said.” Henry took a moment before sliding his boxers down. He added a comment in a quieter voice. “I knew you were a pervert.” “Bend over with both hands on the arm of the chair.” Henry did and waited. I took the four or five steps across the room slowly, admiring an adolescently-taut ass. I got near but made no contact, staying uncomfortably close. Henry looked back with a small smirk. “Like what you see?” I made no immediate reply. I reached out and touched the boy’s naked cheek with an open palm. I could feel an instant slipperiness at the tip of my foreskin. “Ready for your lesson?” I casually massaged each cheek, studying the thin muscularity of Henry’s lower back, that which was revealed by his disheveled shirt. The boy yielded somewhat to my touch. “So, Henry,” I said slowly, “Have you been doing bad things? Bad things with other boys?” I ran my hand sensually about. Henry was responding. “Yeah, some. So?” “Did you make that boy, the blond boy I saw you with on the corner, suck your cock?” “You mean, uh, Cam?” My caressing explorations distracted, the teen gave disjointed replies. “Yeah. Did you make him …,” here is where I grabbed Henry’s ass firmly, “… suck you?” My grab made Henry gasp slightly. I could tell the boy was becoming aroused. “Hmm? Was he on his knees? Sucking you?” Henry responded distractedly, “Yeah, uh, he sucked me.” “I wonder about that. You wouldn’t be fibbing would you, Henry?” “No,” he answered, his response less than convincing. “Maybe I should ask him the next time I see him?” Henry didn’t answer. “How about you Henry? You ever suck a cock?” I stepped forward, my hand on the boy’s shoulder and my swelling crotch making contact with Henry’s bottom. He felt it. “I …” “Yeah?” I reached around and delicately ran the back of my fingernails over Henry’s stiff prick.” “Ohhh!” I made casual contact with the hairs of Henry’s balls. He stuttered. “I … I, uh … yeah, I … sucked some older boys … once.” “Well, well, well,” I teased, “That’s nice.” I leaned on Henry more. “You ready to suck a man’s cock? Ready to get it nice and wet?” I gave Henry’s boyhood a firm rub with my open hand. “Uhhh!” “You’re going to want to get it nice and wet. It makes it easier to slide it up your ass, Henry.” I gave the boy’s arrow and purse a vigorous grab. “Uhh … I, ah … I don’t … know,” Henry mumbled. The boy could hardly speak. He was hot to the touch, writhing with new sensations. “I know,” I declared, “You want it or you wouldn’t be here.” I rose up, pushing Henry down on the arm of the chair as I did so. I spread the boy’s cheeks. I pressed my thumb into the hot, creamy, dirty asshole. “Ihhnnhh.” “You’re a dirty boy, Henry. A bad and dirty boy.” I worked the constricted orifice forcefully. Henry moaned. My cock and balls were swelling. I abruptly ceased my yahya kaptan escort anal pressure and stood back. “Get up, Henry.” It took him a moment to gather himself. He turned with difficulty, his pants at his ankles. “Get down on your knees, Henry.” I pulled his shirt up and off, his hair was beautifully displaced. The boy looked to me with a timeless expression, the moment of inevitability � the moment when you are going to suck cock and there is no turning away. I unbuckled before him. I tugged my fly open, slid my pants below my hot, hidden serpent. I released it. Ruddy and redolent, it fascinated. A few more tugs and I freed all; my loaded sack hung thick. “Come,” I gestured with a beckoning hand, “Take it.” Henry leaned forward. I touched the side of his head, fingertips in his short, dark locks. I pressed his face to my awakening manhood, hot and turgid against rosy, downy cheek. The boy swooned, intoxicated by the sensual banquet. One-handed, I rolled his head back and forth across my crotch. Henry inhaled my potent scent, his nostrils flared, his jaw slackened with his transports. The sight fired my arousal, I swelled. I took a small step back. Tilting the youngster’s head slightly back, I commanded, “Suck it. Taste it, Henry.” I took my cock in my free hand and, holding the boy’s curls gently with the other, I drew my half-unhooded scepter across the boy’s lips. Henry tasted. I allowed him more and more as I slowly introduced my glans into his open mouth. I let him suck, tasting and enjoying, pleasuring himself hungrily. The boy had wanted, yearned; I gave. Now he would have more. I began introducing my member, deeper and deeper. Henry took, his jaw dropping, his mouth rounding. I knew his feelings; wanting more cock, he took greedily, then as the intrusion increased, a doubt, then a fear as, mouth stretched full, the cockhead pressed against the back of his throat. One slide. Two. The third time a slight reaction and on the fourth, a momentary gag. I drew back and paused, a few heartbeats only. Then, the merest movement forward; the boy’s desire unspoken, sensed ethereally, the desire for total incorporation and acceptance. I pushed gently, my glans just throat-deep. Henry tried and did well to keep his trophy before wanting a gulp of air. I pulled free. On his knees before me, I gave the boy a few seconds to recover. I had sensed from our first meeting that Henry sought something, something from a man. I leaned down and took the boy off the floor. “C’mere.” I took the boy in my arms and embraced him to my chest. He looked up, vulnerable. “It’s okay,” I drew my hand over his forehead, moving the tousled locks, tilting the boy’s head back. I leaned down and kissed his waiting lips. He melted in my arms with a whimper of gratification. I pressed my lips harder against his, our embrace became closer, my arms restricting Henry’s lean chest. That, and our wet cocks touching, had us both breathing passionately, writhing against each other. I took control. Stepping back just enough, I whispered to the enraptured boy, “Get your clothes off.” Henry kicked his shoes and pants off in seconds. I unbuttoned my work shirt. By the time I peeled it down, Henry had his socks off and kicked them aside. He stood ready but unsure. “Unlace my boots.” Henry smiled, bent down, and went to his assigned task. I watched the whorl of his hair, the two tendons that ran from his neck, taut. Shoulder blades rowed lean muscle, thin triceps moved at their task. Vitality. Youth. One and the same. Unlaced, I told Henry, “Get on the couch.” He scampered. I kicked my boots aside; my socks came off with my pants. When I looked up, the boy was on the couch, looking to me. Lust, admiration, uncertainty. I came towards him slowly, my cock jutting forth. Henry observed the approaching rampant staff, engorged and glistening. I leaned down, pushing the teen back, taking him within my arms, our eyes locked, putting a knee between his legs, spreading them to have them part. We went cock to cock. “I’m going to fuck you, Henry. Tilt your ass back.” I held my weight from the boy as he moved under me. I grabbed gebze escort my pole and tried to position it near Henry’s hot anus. We fumbled about for a few moments before I got the right angle for the boy’s ass and sited my dripping head in the puckered depression. I pressed. “Uhh … Wait …” It was an expression of surprise from the boy. He may have pleasured himself alone, penetrating his boyhole, but I could tell that he hadn’t been fucked before. “Relax and let it slide, Henry.” “Ow!” “Relax,” I commanded. “Go slow, okay?” “Okay,” I conceded. I pressed on, slowly, giving the boy time. He protested like many virgins do. “Uh … No, wait … Ow, it hurts! … Oh … Ohh! Stop!” Et cetera, et cetera. My cock was going in, facts are facts. “Henry,” I stated calmly, “You been asking for it and you’re going to get it. That’s the way it is. Now, do what I say and relax your ass.” The youth did relax enough that my cockhead pushed through. Henry moaned through his nostrils, trying to stifle a cry of pain. I waited but, holding the boy firmly in my arms, didn’t allow Henry to pull away. “That’s it, just relax.” “I can’t fucking relax with your big fucking cock in my ass,” Henry came back, pissed off. “Maybe I should take you back to school where you can play little boy games.” “Shut up.” Still being a smart ass. “Well, Henry, what do you want?” I gently thrust against the boy’s prostate. “Ugh!” “Do you want that, huh? Do you want a man’s cock?” I gave another prod or two. “Fuck!” I could tell he was trying to keep control of the situation with snotty attitude and defiant looks. The boy wanted cock but he didn’t want to submit; he couldn’t have it both ways. The sensation of my cock in his ass was something that couldn’t be argued with, just the right angle across Henry’s prostate had him moaning and unable to be anything other than be subservient to gratifying pleasure. I pushed forward. “Uhh … Oh! Ohhh!” “You’ve been a bad boy and you’re going to get what bad boys get.” I wanted him. I gave him cock and kept Henry moaning. “Uhn! Oh, fuck! Jeez! It’s … Uhh! Goddamn … Oh … Oh … Shit!” “That’s it, boy. Talk to me.” Soon, I was grunting like a hog at a trough, my cock getting more and more of the boy’s ass. I controlled my thrusts, but barely, intensely aware of my glans bottoming in a pocket of the hot passage. His hairless inner thighs slid freely against me as I thrust. Henry, loosened up now, began what can be called “love grunts,” the steady, rhythmic exhalations that come from the deepest point of penetration, the sound of lust satisfied. “Ungh … Unghh … Ungh … Unghh …” My desire was at a fever pitch. I fucked Henry and fucked him hard, ramming myself home again and again. The couch springs began creaking and squeaking beneath us. Henry wanted cock and I gave it to him, he wanted to be fucked and I fucked him. I could feel the swollen base of my shaft pulling Henry’s ring out in an obscene circle each time I withdrew. It collapsed inward as I pumped deeply into the hot furnace of the boy’s ass. Henry responded with a delirious fervor. “Oh! Oh, God! … Uhh … Uhhh! … Ohh! … Ohhh!” The boy came, moaning and crying. “You little fucker,” I declared through gritted teeth, seconds away from pumping the boy’s ass full of man cream. Nearly at my peak, I slowed. Deep, deliberate power thrusts � one, two, three � timed to the boy’s anal spasms. Henry’s legs clutched, tightening desperately, a reflexive reaction, profoundly penetrated by cock and coming in decreasing spurts but endlessly orgasming from my ramrod pounding his prostate. Looking at the boy transported in erotic ecstasy, I came, groaning and cursing. “Inngh … Inggghh! … Fuck! Uh! Uh! Fuck!” I ejaculated, jet after jet, my fiery discharge pooling deep. Fully spent, I collapsed, panting. I grasped the boy, holding his glistening flesh in an amorous embrace. Our breathing was our only expression of love and lust fulfilled. After a time, we both regained our senses. “Did you get what you wanted?” I asked the boy. “Yes,” was the honest reply. “Good.” What Henry knew with certainty was that he was sexually satisfied; what I knew was that he was loved by a man and he would realize this gradually, years later. I banged Henry about a dozen times in all. He wanted to be a bad boy and he wanted a man; visiting me he got both. Copyright 2019. All Rights Reserved.
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