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Subject: Posing for Little Dale, part 1 Posing for Little Dale, part 1 This is a work of fiction about my favorite subject: Perpetrators. This work of gay fiction is for adults who enjoy fantasies not meant for to be taken as instruction. If this tale offends you, please leave now. If you enjoy the story here please donate to keep the site going. It provides a needed service to our community. Comments: ota When I was 10 I found a cache of my father’s muscle magazines in a box in the rafters in the garage. I had been looking for them for a couple of years. I saw them first when I was 8 years old and sneaking around in his underwear drawer. These weren’t regular muscle magazines. Sometimes the guys were completely nude. You could see butt. But their cocks were tucked into the most amazing apparatus I had ever seen: a posing strap. These little triangles of cloth were held in place by a fragile string around the waist that connected to another string from the bottom of the triangle up the butt crack to reconnect at the top of the butt. It was so much nastier than being naked. I loved these cock and ball holders that barely covered anything, and thus the reason I had been searching for a long time. I knew these were treasured magazines somehow. He wouldn’t have thrown them away. Now that my parents were divorced, Dad shared a little house in a bad neighborhood with his buddy Len. Len and Dad liked to drink a lot, so I was often left on my own on visitation weekends. But now that I knew where to find these little digest sized magazines, I knew how I would spend all my free alone time at Dad’s house. I tried for a long time to make a little triangle cock holder for myself. But I could never get it quite right. My older brother was in high school and wore a dirty old jock strap. I certainly spent some quality time with that before I would stow it back in the laundry hamper. But it was way too big for me. I needed something pretty small for my little boy nuts and dick. Dad and Len lived in a rough neighborhood in the northeast Bay Area. There were broken down trucks in hard scrabble front yards. Dogs roaming. Clothes lines and tires in front yards. Folks were often smoking and drinking on the street, like my dad and his buddy. Or they would all pile into a car and head out for an afternoon of drinking at the biker bar on the main drag. One afternoon I was watching TV and playing with my GI Joes at Dad’s house and the front door just opened up. Scared me to shit. Some big guy who looked like a beat up Elvis yelled for my dad. My dad yelled back for him to hold up, they were almost ready to leave. Then I must have caught his eye. “Well, what have we here, little man? You playing soldier?” “These are GI Joes”, I told him sternly. He came and squatted next to me on the floor. He had on a tight white T shirt and oil-covered jeans. They were really tight on his thighs. My eyes kind of automatically went to his crotch and it was bulging, and the denim was rubbed lighter in the whole area. I looked back up at his face. Blues eyes rimmed by black lashes, curly, greasy black hair, and a smirk. I could smell cigarettes and sweat, like my dad. His knuckles had black grease ground into them and under his nails. “So, what are yer soldiers doin’, huh? Maybe it’s time for them to hit the hay. You got a little bed for them?” I smiled at him and put them both in the shoebox I used to transport them, the blond GI Joe and the black GI Joe together with a paper towel I used for a blanket. “Hey, they can’t go to bed with all them clothes on, hard to sleep that way. You go to bed with all your clothes on?” I nodded no. “You sleep in your little jockey shorts?” I nodded yes. “Ever take them jockey shorts off and sleep in the buff? Ought to try it kid, it feels great to be all naked in bed.” I was enthralled and could barely breathe. The man reached in and pulled the pants down on both the soldiers. “There, that’ll feel better, right?” Then suddenly my dad and Len were in the room, all smelling like Jade East. The man popped up and backed away still smiling at me. I looked down at the dolls and quickly put the paper towel blanket up so no one could see their pants down around their boots. I looked up at the man and he winked at me. Later I was in bed with Dad and Len. We were watching TV and eating ice cream. Dad had poured a lot of his home made Kahlúa, “Queen’s Choice”, over the ice cream and I loved the boozy smell and taste, plus it felt naughty to get to have alcohol. I guess I didn’t think anything about Dad and Len sleeping together. There was just one bedroom and so it made sense to me. I slept on the living room sofa when I visited. “Dad, who was that man that came over?” Dad and Len looked at each other. Len rolled his eyes and Dad laughed, pretty drunk. “That was the neighborhood chicken-hawk, Little Dale.” The next morning while Dad was still asleep Len got up and made me a bowl of cereal. We sat at the chrome dinette set and he had a beer while I ate Fruit Loops. He sat there in his pee-stained jockey shorts smoking quietly. I gulped down a bite and asked, “Len? What does `chicken-hawk’ mean?” Len coughed then took a drag and looked at me, side-eye, “Means he like little boys. And don’t you say nuthin’ to your dad that I told ya.” “Does that mean that Little Dale likes little boys?” Len stood up and leaned over me taking my empty cereal bowl away, but quickly poked me in my bare stomach for a tickle, “Yep, he likes little boys like you…” then he really tickled hard, “to just eat them up!” I giggled and Len hushed me so I wouldn’t wake my dad. Little Dale was a regular drop-in from then on. He apparently lived across the street in the shack with the sliding glass doors and the motorcycles in the driveway. They would all head out to the bar and he’d stop, “Hey is he alright here all by himself?” My dad said sure. He can watch TV, play with his stuff, he has a bike here, he knows how to take care of himself, don’t you buddy?” Dad picked me up and started taking fake bites of my neck making me scream with delight. I looked at Little Dale over Dad’s shoulder and he was wide-eyed watching me scream Diyarbakır Escort and struggle in my dad’s arms. Dad turned and saw him staring, “Down boy,” he said to Dale. Dale winked at me, and they were gone. As soon as they left I want to the garage to find Dad’s box of magazines. I really needed to study them extra closely all of the sudden. The very next weekend visit when Dad and Len were headed out the door, I heard Len say, “Naw, Dale’s staying here, says he’s tired.” Dad had already walked out to the car and Len looked at me as he was about to shut the door and stopped and held my eyes for a minute. “Uh, you be good.” I just stared at him waiting for him to go. “And, um, if you leave and go ride your bike or anything, make sure and lock the door, huh? If you need any help, Little Dale’s right across the street.” Then he winked and smiled big, and the door was shut. I waited until I saw the truck pull away. I locked the front door, leaving the key in the house, I went out to the garage, I got my Sting-ray bicycle, and pedaled off around the block. It was pretty hot for the Bay Area, I just had a little t-shirt on and my cut-offs, all frayed out. I wasn’t sure I had the courage to do it, so I rode around the block a few times. Then I stopped in front of Little Dale’s. Both his motorcycles were parked in the driveway under the carport. I walked my bike up and dropped it and knocked on the sliding glass doors. When Dale opened the door, he was all smiles and very little clothing. He had a beer in one hand and a cigarette dangling. His black hair was wet from a shower. I could feel the steam hit me as the door opened. His skin was pale white and tattoos of two sparrows were mounted on each side of his chest among other stuff like dice, the cartoon Lil Hot Stuff, and Betty Boop. He had on cut-offs too and some work boots. His cut-offs were in worse shape than mine and even shorter. I just stood there taking it in. “So, little man, does your daddy know you are over here? Is everything alright?” “I went for a bike ride and locked myself out. I got thirsty and stuff. Plus, I need to use the bathroom.” He spotted my bike in the driveway. “Better bring that in here, we don’t need people seeing’ that out there.” I thought it was cool to bring a bike in the house, and Dale’s place sure wasn’t fancy. Dale went to the kitchen. “How about I make one of my special Coca-Colas for you, huh?” He pointed to the bathroom, and I was a bit weirded out — it didn’t have a door. I mean, I could see where a pocket door used to be, but the slot was empty. Oh well. As I stood in front of the toilet in the bathroom that could have used a good scrubbing’ as my mother would have said, Dale walked up and looked down at me doing my business. “This’ll be waiting for you after you take a piss,” as he wagged the highball. I was excited that he said piss in front of me. It was 1964 and there was a lot of strict rules still. Out in his living room, if you could call it that, there was just two reclining loungers a small table between them and some weights and stuff at the other end of the room. His big chest muscles and arms all fit into the picture. He set my drink down on the table and fell back into his lounger lighting his cigarette. His legs were spread, and I could see the stretchy knit of a jock strap under his very short cut-offs. I took a sip of my drink, and it tasted like Dad — meaning I think there was booze in it, maybe rum? He smiled and winked, “What happens at Dale’s house stays at Dale’s house, huh kid? I mean those two are off drinking’ all day, why not kick back here and have a little yourself?” I was thirsty and took a big gulp and he smiled. As I set the drink back down, I looked on the table and there was a stack of magazines — the very same kind that my dad had. Not supermarket muscle magazines like Muscle and Strength, but the little digest-sized ones, like Vim, and Physique Pictorial, and Fizeek. I was agog. “Ever see these kinds of body building magazines, kid?” He nodded own at them, “Go ahead, take a peek.” Wow. Permission. I picked one off the pile, a Physique Pictorial. It had a drawing on the cover of a bunch of guys at a carnival, one guy was about to hit the strength testing machine with a big hammer while a bunch of really good-looking guys with big muscles all crowded around him. Everybody was smiling and looked so happy. I took a big gulp and started to slowly flip pages. “Ever see anything like that kid?” I looked up at Dale and somehow more of the jockstrapped bulge was bursting out of the sides of his cut-off crotch. I took another big gulp, starting to feel the warm sensations now, the loosening. “Yeah, Dad has some in the garage!” I blurted happily. Then a veil of fear dropped over me. That was a secret I should not have told. “But don’t tell Dad, I mean he doesn’t…” “Hey, I’m not tellin’ anyone anything. I’d be in a shitload of trouble if your father knew I was letting you look at them, so don’t tell on me either, huh?” Then he grabbed one and opened it up to a center spread of two oiled up guys wrestling, one was clearly being a bully to the other and they both had those little pouches on, nearly bursting, and you could see hair and everything down there. “Whaddya think of this? Like it?” I nodded and was very aware of my cramped up little penis in my shorts. I nodded and actually said, “Yeah, I like it a lot!” Dale let out a big laugh that almost frightened me. He stood up in front of me close and that jock bulge was popping out below the frayed denim, right out there a foot away from me. He grabbed my drink and swaggered back into the kitchen, “I’ll get us fresh ones here, you just enjoy yourself kid, look all you want.” While Dale was in the kitchen with ice and rum and Coke, I fixed my penis straight up in my shorts just in time for him to sort of catch me. He winked, squatted in front of me close with his legs spread wide enough to see a lot of the cream-colored jock. He leaned in to see what I was looking at. A picture of a guy in classic arms up pose with a pouch that was almost transparent. You could see where the head of his Diyarbakır Escort Bayan penis was. “You like that one?” I nodded. “Whaddya like about it”, he almost whispered, so close to me. I took a gulp of the drink. It was much stronger this time. I loved it. It made me feel like his friend. I smiled at him and pointed to the pouch. “I like that thing he’s wearing.” “Ohhh, you like a well-packed posing strap huh?” I nodded fast and hard. Dale laughed and rubbed my flat top. “I like their muscles, too.” “Get yer drink and follow me, babe.” Dale and I stood before the sliding glass doors in his spartan bedroom. There were ashtrays overflowing and piles of more muscle magazines. Some paperbacks piled up with pictures of naked guys on them. A big, opened jar of Vaseline next to the bed. Dale set our drinks down on the cigarette-burned dresser and opened the closet door to reveal shelves with underwear and jock straps, and a special box of just posing straps. He pulled the box out and held it in front of me. “See anything you like?” I stared sifting through them, the varieties if colors and textures, some were stretched out from use, others looked taut and satiny. One was made of just fishnet. I held it up. “Ooh, you are a naughty little boy. I like you.” Dale threw it on the unmade bed and routed through the box. He pulled out a very small sheer white pouch. He untied the white strings and tossed it on the bed with the fishnet pouch. “Want to try one on?” My clothing seemed to be completely lubricated by rum and coke. Dale pulled my little t-shirt up over my head and unbuttoned my shorts. “You wiggle those off, huh?” Meanwhile Dale hit the top button of his own shorts and they dropped to the ground, revealing his arced cock in the stretchy elastic pouch. I could see hair on either side of the pouch and I could smell him even more now. “Ok, you sure yer up for this? You better have more of your drink, I don’t want you crying’ to your daddy later that the mean man made you look at his big old cock.” I slugged more drink back, loopy with it now. “No, no, please I promise, I won’t tell.” “Well ok, then, but ya gotta help me some, ok? I’ll pull my jock down to my knees then you gotta get down there and be careful to pull it over my boots. You think you can do that?” I nodded and my head was swimming. Dale was flushing up from being turned-on I think. He was certainly sweatier than when I got there. He hooked his thumbs in and slowly dragged it down over his hefty length of meat and when it was past his cut cock head, it popped up a bit starting to rise. “Wow, kid, you keep drooling’ looking’ at my cock like that and it’ll get too big to fit in that damn pouch.” He just stood in front of me letting me ogle, while he casually lit another cigarette and swilled some of his drink. “Ok, now this part is complicated, cause ya really need someone to help you get these things on right, so we’re gone have to be ‘pouch buddies’ and help each other out, mmmk?” I think I did let some drool slip out accidentally at that point. He handed me the fishnet pouch, “Ok, get down there again and slip the leg opening over each of my boots, make sure you have it going the right way.” When I knelt in front of him his cock started to throb up some. He balanced himself with a hand on my little head and I turned to see us both in the closet mirror, realizing that I had been naked for some time now. I was so focused on him, I had forgotten. That, and my little penis was as hard as a nail. I was dizzy with ten-year-old lust as I slid the apparatus up his hairy thighs. All was going well until I got to the top. “Here’s where I need some help buddy. You want to kind of bend that down and curve it under some? That way you can kind of cram it into the posing strap. It’s gonna take a while as it got kind of hard, huh?,” as he said that he stroked my head pulling my face closer into his whole crotch area. He kept checking us out in the mirror, looking at this naked ten-year-old on his knees in front of him struggling with the sacred pouch.” “Ok, that’s good, yup. Hold the pouch back with one hand and yup, just grab my cock, kid. That’s it, oops, whoa,” he shivered, and suddenly there was slick wet stuff coming out of the head of his penis. “Hey, relax for a minute, you got my cock so damn hard with your little hands, we have to back off for a minute.” I just stayed there, feeling his pulse in a cock way too big for my little hand. It was hot and now it was leaking stuff. “Let’s get you set up here, kid.” Dale grabbed the little sheer pouch off the bed. “We have to make some adjustments. Put your hands on my shoulders.” He leaned into me as he dragged the little white strings up my hairless thighs and whispered right into my ear with a hot buzz, “Seems like your cock’s too hard too, huh kid? You get all worked up with your hands on my big adult cock?” I nodded and he rubbed his black sideburns on the side of my face making me shiver. He got the pouch all the way up and the string was tucked up between my ass cheeks giving me a delirious sensation on my little hole. Even though my cock was sitting straight up, Dale patted the pouch into place, holding the stings up as they were too loose. He turned me around by my hips and I could hear him take a big breath as he saw my butt. I looked at us in the mirror and I could see him just staring down there. He pulled up the slack right above my ass crack and the dangling strings made me giggle and squirm. “You just hold still little boy, or I’ll bite you all over,” which he then proceeded to do, all the while yanking my strings in and out of my ass crack sending my preteen body into overload. Finally, we calmed down, and he said, “I don’t got scissors in here, I’m just gonna bite off this extra string. He tied me up tight in the pouch then he dragged his unshaved face down my back to the place just above my crack and nibbled and kissed and licked a little. Finally, he chomped off the string’s selvage and ditched it, leaving his spit to cool on my butt crack. “You don’t mind an old man licking and biting around back there, do you?” He was hardly Escort Diyarbakır an old man, maybe 30. I just giggled. “Yeah, I thought so. You are just primed for this, huh kid. Yer dying’ for it,” he muttered all breathy. I was a drunk, horny, and completely liquor-loosened piece of bait at this point. Dale stood and quickly tucked his big cock in the pouch and said, “Stay there on yer knees, kid. Now you gotta check the fit. Make sure it’s all in the right place.” I looked up at him and nodded dutifully. “Take both your little hand and feel all around the pouch, make sure my balls aren’t hanging out.” My hands went crazy, and his cock was like curved steel in there. “Ok, now check the back.” I scooted around on my knees and took in the sight of his meaty hairless ass, more naked than naked because of the string up his butt crack. When he spread his legs, I could see the fishnet pouch dangling down in front. “Whadya think, buddy? Does it look OK?” I was wordless by now and just nodded. “Good. You need to check my ass and see if the string fits right in there. So, take your little hands and just spread my cheeks and take a good look.” This is the view I wanted. I had seen lots of carefully posed posing strap photos, but I always wanted to see the string right over the hole. As I spread his hard cheeks with my little hands the was a whiff of sweat and ass crack in my face and I loved it. “Does it look good in there? Do you like the way it looks?” I nodded yes. “Get your face a little closer in there, lemme know how it smells. I just took a shower so it’s good to go.” I leaned in and took a whiff. “It smells good!” “Oh honey, you got to get closer in there and breathe deep.” I leaned in so my nose was almost touching his hole. I was feeling woozy from booze but very happy. Suddenly he reached around and pushed my little coconut head right into the crack of his ass and held my face there. I figured that was what he wanted so I just stayed there while he kind of humped back at my face. “You like having a man’s ass on your face kid?,” he growled at me in a raspy voice. I nodded again moving my face up and down his crack and hole, getting his sweaty butt right on me. “Tell me you like my hole kid, I want you to like it back there.” “I love it!,” I mumbled into his hole and he shivered and thrust his stringed ass right into my mouth. He wasn’t mean or anything. I could tell I was making him happy. I was a good chicken, I thought. “C’mon, baby, let me check your string back there now” he said as he turned and lifted me up by my arms and swung me around, face down over the back of the recliner so I was up at his height. “Here drink some of this and I will give you a big treat” he said as he handed me my drink. “Great, now lean over the back of the recliner so your butt is up in the air, and I can really see what’s going on back there.” I leaned over and my ass went up in the air. He took my legs which weren’t quite reaching the arm rests and spread them wide, his hands big and warm on the backs of my thighs. He was kneeling on the seat of the chair now, so he just leaned over and stuck his open mouth on my crack, stabbing his tongue in my drunk ten-year-old little hole. I never dreamed of such a thing. First, I tried to squirm off of him, but I think that made him even more aggressive. I wiggled and he slathered my hole with spit and nibbled at everything in there over the little string dividing my tiny ass. I was panting and groaning, completely disinhibited by the combination of the booze and his tongue. “You need that little hole worked over, don’t ya kid. You love daddy tongue raping your little pussy back there, huh?” I was confused, why did he say ‘daddy’? And I knew that wasn’t a pussy. But I was starting to feel tingles and sparkling in my head. I was sucking in a lot of air, and my head was upside-down over the recliner. Things went dark. • When I came to, I was face down in his sheets that smelled like cigarettes. I felt one of his fingers pushed around the string in my crack and stroking my hole. I saw the big tub of Vaseline next to me with the lid off. “You scared me for a minute, buddy. I thought we lost you, so I figured you would need me to take care of your hole some till you woke up.” I moaned coming back to consciousness, not because I felt bad, but because it felt so good. “You like daddy fingering your little pussy, huh boy?” I figured what he was talking about and yes. I did like it and arched my ass back at him. “Oh yeah, be a good slut for me little boy and wag that ass at me.” As he said that he started pressing his finger deeper in a little bit at a time. Leaning next to me on the messy sheets he reached under with his other hand and rubbed my cock and balls, completely hard, through the little posing strap. I began to hump into his hand on my cock and then arch back up to his fingering of my hole. He got up and straddled my thighs while he continued to finger bang me. I could hear the crackle of the Vaseline as he must have smeared some on his other hand. He must have been stroking his cock. I gave into the feeling, and he would pull his finger out and lean down and rub his big cock on my hole. It felt great and I pushed back at it figuring his cock would just slip in easy like. But as I push harder, I could tell my little “pussy” was too small for his cock. “Good boy, just keep rubbing your pucker on my cock baby” he said as he switched back and forth between fingering me and poking at my hole with his blunt cock. He slowed down for a moment to get more Vaseline and then he gently added another finger so I was being stretched open now. It hurt good and I wanted more. I almost whispered, “stick it in me.” He chuckled a bit and said, “Too soon for that, baby. We gotta keep spreading and stretching your puss before that happens. But I’ll take care of your hole, darlin’.” He removed his fingers and stroked his cock right at me hole, almost sticking it in a little bit more with each stroke. He was panting and I felt some sweat drop down on me while I ground my ass back up at him. “Good boy,” he huffed. Open that pussy up for my big pedo cock, I’m gonna load your hole with my cum.” He grunted and pushed so that his cock head was splitting my tight hole open, and I felt a flood of liquid fill my ass. He pulled back and stripes of his cum slapped my ass and dripped out of my hole. Then there was a knocking on the sliding glass doors on the front of the house.
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