Prelude
A soft, warm breeze blew in through the open veranda doors, causing the sheer curtains to billow into the room like puffy white clouds in the twilight. The breeze made me shudder as it caressed the thin film of sweat that coated my body. The movement of my body made Ben stir a bit against me. I was still impaled upon his cock. It had started going flaccid as he drifted into sleep, but my stirring wakened it a bit and I could feel it hardening in my ass as Ben thrust forward with his hips to completely re-bury his rod inside of me.
He had fallen asleep with his cock inside of me and one hand wrapped possessively around my penis and the other caressing my chest. He grunted and drew me closer into him as he began to slowly move in and out of me. It felt as if my small, skinny body was being absorbed into his large, beefy torso. Even though he was sixty years old, no one could ever accuse Ben of being under-sexed.
He had fallen asleep after fucking the shit out of me for the last few hours and here he was, fucking me in his sleep. His cock was hard and throbbing now. The pace of his thrusting quickened and he began to shudder as I felt his load erupting into my ass. How could he still have so much in him after all of our love-making? He shuddered with the spasms of his eruption and his love-juice leaked out of my ass. It was over quickly. He snuggled closely and fell deeper into sleep with his arms wrapped tightly around me. I sighed deeply. How I had I come to this? Where had it all begun?
The Magazine
I guess it all started with a magazine. It was years ago – the early seventies; a different time; a simpler time; a time with no internet or cell phones or big screen TV's or tablet computers. I was eighteen years old and bound for my freshman year of college. My parents had taken me on a final summer fling to that famous theme park in Florida. It had been a nice trip, but now it was over and we were at the airport in Chicago waiting for our bags to come down the conveyor. Nature called and I excused myself to head to the men's room.
I was a pretty normal teenage boy; or at least I thought I was. I was full of raging hormones and constantly horny and very aware of all the temptations that surrounded me. Those temptations basically consisted of teenaged girls and it didn't take much to awaken little Paul, Jr. who resided in my pants. I had already had some success with the girls despite the fact that I wasn't exactly jock material.
In fact, I was a skinny, little guy whose five-foot, six-inch frame weighed in at one hundred and ten pounds. And Paul, Jr. wasn't really all that much to write home about. He stiffened up to only about five inches and was not very thick around. But when I pulled back his foreskin it exposed an attractive little head that glistened with pre-cum whenever temptation occurred. But I wasn't prepared for the temptation that presented itself in the airport restroom.
Instead of stepping up to the lavatory and pissing like a man, I retreated to a stall as was my wont. I didn't like exposing my little cock to other guys and, quite frankly, I never really mastered the art of pissing while standing up. I always seemed to spray all over the place and never hit the desired target. So, I generally sat down like a girl to do my duty. So, I picked a stall, put one of those paper protectors over the seat, pulled down my pants and sat down.
And there it was; at eye-level. It was a magazine propped on top of the toilet paper holder. "Men and Their Boyz" was the title on the cover. The front cover was a photograph of a large man standing in back of younger man. The older guy had one arm draped around the boy's shoulders and the other arm across the boy's torso with his hand cupping the boy's cock. There was a lascivious sneer on the face of the older man. The boy's eyes were closed and the look on his face communicated arousal and surrender. I took the magazine in my hands and as I stared at the powerful image on the cover, I could feel my cock begin to twitch to life.
This was unexpected, but not unpleasant. I opened the magazine and began to leaf through the pages. There were pictures of couples on every page; an older guy and a boy. The disclaimers in the magazine declared that all models were eighteen or older, but it was obvious that the boys chosen to model looked like young teenagers.
The deeper I progressed into the magazine, the more erotic the images became. First there were men kissing their boys; then fondling their boys while kissing them; then kissing them with their hands down the boy's pants. The centerfold was a photo of the man and boy on the front cover. But this time the boy was naked and the man was pinching one of his nipples with one hand and squeezing the boy's erect cock with his other hand. My own cock was now stiff and throbbing and I realized that I was stroking myself while staring at this photo. This couldn't be right; not getting aroused by pictures of males playing with each other!
But I was mesmerized. I kept turning pages. The pages after the centerfold were so hot! Now there were photos of men sucking their boy's dicks and boy's sucking their men's huge penises. I was stroking harder and faster as I turned the pages. The last two pages were like another centerfold spread. It was the man and boy from the cover again. This time they were both naked. The boy was on all fours. The man was kneeling in back of him with his hands on the boy's hips and his cock half-buried in the boy's ass. There was a look of triumph on the man's face.
But it was the look on the boy's face that pushed me over the edge. It was a look of pure lust and passion and fulfillment. My eyes took it all in and then focused on the boy's cock. It was standing out hard and stiff and dripping cum. As my eyes went back to the boy's face I could no longer contain my own passion. I finished myself off, violently jacking my cock as I came and came and came! At that moment, I wanted to be the boy!
Sated, I pulled myself together and cleaned myself up and returned to the terminal. My parents were concerned about what took so long, but I deflected that and we made it home safe and sound. Intellectually, I knew that what I had experienced in the men's room was rather "gay." And "gay" was not accepted at that time in history. But I knew that I wasn't gay. I was just a young guy who got hard at the drop of a hat. I was sure that further exposure to things like that magazine would have no effect whatsoever on me. And just to prove it, I had stuffed the magazine in my carry-on bag and brought it home with me.
I didn't take it out until the second day home. My parents were both out of the house for a few hours and so I retrieved my new-found treasure and sat at my desk with it. As convinced as I was that it would have no effect on me, within a matter of minutes I was starting to sport an erection from looking at the dirty, filthy, oh so hot and erotic photos in that book. In no time at all my heart was racing, my cock was stiff and hard and throbbing and I was frantically fondling myself.
I came to the photo at the end of the book; the photo of the boy being fucked and enjoying it. His eyes seemed to bore into mine. They seemed to be saying: "Be me! Be me!" I came four times in the few hours that my parents were gone.
Of course, I knew that what was happening to me was not normal. And I was certain that it was just a fluke, a passing thing that wouldn't last. And to prove that to myself I looked at the magazine every day, multiple times a day. The pictures burned themselves into my mind and by the end of the week it was like I was addicted to that damned book. I pulled it out every chance I got and when I pulled it out I pulled my cock out too! Maybe it was just something about this particular book?
Maybe I should get another picture book to prove to myself that it was only these men and boys I was attracted to; not men and/or boys in general. And so I decided to get another magazine. On the back cover, there was an address for the store that had sold the book. It was right here in Chicago. In the Old Town section. I determined to go there the next day.
The Bookstore
Old Town was a pretty raunchy area in those days. It had a few nice restaurants and clubs; but a lot of it was XXX rated theaters, strip clubs, gay bars – and adult book stores. I found the book store that had sold my magazine. It was a bland, dark storefront with opaque windows and metal grating on the windows and door. I entered warily and was immediately confronted by a rather dirty, unkempt man sitting behind a four-foot internal wall to the right of the entrance.
"Hi boy, what you lookin' for?" He demanded.
"I . . .I just wanted to look at some magazines." I stammered.
"Can't let you boy. You gotta be at least eighteen or I lose my license if I'm caught with you in here."
