Message-ID: <2724eli$9708081551@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/2724.txt> From: cagecashier@sprintmail.com X-Good-Line-Length: yes Subject: Repost-My Gay TXT Collection - all-nigh.txt(1/1) 19312 bytes Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.gay,alt.sex.stories.moderated Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <5sd70c$sjv@newsfep2.sprintmail.com> First of all...I didn't write any of these stories. My collection of stories come from places I've visited over the years. I tried to sort out all the incomplete and straight stories. If a few got past me, my apologies. Happy Reading!!!! ALL NIGHT by the wiz I'm his baby sitter. He's not exactly a baby; he's eleven. A Magic number. Slim, but taller than many his age. Dirty blonde hair. Tonight I watched him with a friend, a bit younger, in his room. Unaware of me, they stood in a corner. A dark evening house; a door slightly ajar. From the edge of the stair, I could see blue shorts above bare, tan legs and thin ankles; children's legs. Each with one hand, they held one another. Lightly. As though the slim, hard flesh might be a more tender thing. I could see his friend's hips push forward, as if to offer more, and his hand rose to the other boy to help somehow or maybe just to touch him in acknowledgment. Not wanting to stop them, I moved quietly back down the stairs, my own hardness tight in my shorts. Sticky wet. I didn't want to spend it, though. Not yet. After leaving them in silence for a while, I made a noise in the kitchen and heard their voices immediately. Footsteps followed. The front door opened. Some voices. A laugh. The friend was gone, off into the evening. He comes to the kitchen. Grins at me and puts his arm around my waist as I stand washing the few dishes that were left. He is taller than my shoulder; only an inch or so shorter than me. We talk about school. The dishes are finished; I dry my hands and turn. Facing him. I pull him gently to me and lean back against the counter. I wonder if we both feel the same magic feeling? I'm there because he wants me there; his request. We always hug and touch every time I'm here. I want him badly, but I'm too shy and too uncertain. Other times, with other boys, were uneasy, guilty, rushed. We have the house to ourselves, though. It's scary for me, but I've wished so hard for him. His arms go around me and his head falls to my shoulder. A hug. My hands at the small of his back, reach cautiously, slowly down. Past the elastic of his shorts. Press the warm skin at the top of his buttocks. Hugging him, rubbing his young muscles. Was there a hardness against my own? I shiver with excitement, my heart pounding. I smell his hair. Like summer. His thin T-shirt is warm, like his skin. I nuzzle his neck and kiss it lightly. A salt taste. I feel him hold me tighter. His hips move, pressing. It WAS his hardness! We touch together. Down there. Through the shorts and cloth. Knowing. Finally. Both of us knowing. His head stays, shy, on my shoulder; his eyes won't look at me. But his body presses more tightly now. Little motions. Little pushes. His and mine. I grow brave. My hand slides softly further down. His warm flesh is soft. A hint of sweat just inside the cleft. The globes are strong. Roundness. My hand moves. My finger traces the division. Lower. As it moves into the hidden softness, his legs part. Just a little. An invitation? My heart is pounding wildly. His hand moves lightly. To my thigh. To my crotch. To touch me. His small, strong fingers touch me. Through the cloth, they hold me gently. Almost gingerly. I can't breathe. I tighten - make it bigger to impress him. He squeezes in reply. By itself, my hand presses behind him. He shifts sideways; his hardness pushing on my other thigh. Are his legs farther apart? The deep cleft is damp. Soft. Open. My finger reaches him. Reaches into him. So soft! My mind focuses on just that fingertip. My eyes close. I feel/see/taste all the roundness and the small, wrinkled spot. Soft and open at my pressing finger. Almost hot. His body temperature. Not wet. Moist? Open. The tip inside. Yes. More. Easy, I think; not tight at all. Welcoming more. I give more; I put more in. God, how my heart pounds. I wonder that he can't hear it, but he clings even closer. His hips move to rub it, hard, on my thigh. His hand squeezes me. I take my other hand from his waist and, holding his, bring his hand inside my shorts. Over the elastic. Inside, he feels all around. He's so gentle! My hair. He feels my pubic hair. His fingers comb lightly through it. His arm extends, reaches further. He cups them in his fingers. His cool arm, soft-skinned, presses against my hot penis while his fingers hold my loose sac gently. It tightens in his hand. I shiver. His hand returns to my hardness. Holding it firmly now. I move his hand up and down to help him learn. He learns fast. I pull my shorts down, uncovering myself for him. Below. To my thighs. Heart leaping. He looks at it. Down at me. Watches himself touch me. Is he afraid? No. He looks at my face. Smiles. A gentle smile. Beautiful. I want to taste his lips, but I only smile in return. I withdraw my finger slowly from the secret place and, with my thumbs, pull down on his blue shorts and white briefs. They fall. Holding me, he steps; shakes them off his ankles. I see him now. Devouring his whiteness with my eyes. Tan legs. He is not tiny, like a child. Smaller than me, of course. Five inches? Is there hair? Yes! So blonde that it's hard to see. The tip is red, not purple-red like mine. He's Not circumcised! The skin has slid back from the tip. Veins. Very white. So beautiful. I reach for him; he returns, pressing it hard against the side of my own. My breath slows. I reach behind him again. This time he has no shorts to restrict us. He bends his knees ever so slightly as I touch it. As I enter him. His body. The darkness is moist, still. Faintly slippery. Most of my finger is inside him. Reaching for his soul. He works me with his hand. More surely, now. My back aches from the countertop. I whisper, "...upstairs?" He nods. I slowly take my finger from him. We stumble up the stairs, half holding each other. In his room, I'm seized with the need to see him. I undress us both, finishing with my own briefs; our clothes make a puddle on the floor. Naked. We look up and down at one another, stopping in the center. Together. I move behind him. Does he know? Can he imagine? I touch him. His slim shoulders. He leans forward, hands on his bed. My hands feel his thighs. Strong, young, warm. The room is very warm, too. He puts his hands on the bed. My knees bend to the floor. I kiss his cheeks - the round muscle - the softness - the heat from the damp cleft. His legs open more. Reaching between, I grasp him. All of him; a complex grip. Squeezing gently before I move to the shaft. His foreskin slips easily back and forth. I begin a deliberate rhythm. He bends his knees. I can see it now; pink-brown; dark at the center. My tongue touches it. Enters it. I feel him press back into me. In and out and in and out. Deeper. Thrusting; wet. He throbs in my hand. I hold his thigh with the other. He pushes insistently back. I suck with my lips. He tastes of sweetness. Sweat. I drink a shade of salt, a shade of something else. Deeper. Pushing wet into him. At last, I move away, kissing with lips and tongue. I rise, releasing him with my hand, and I'm wet. Oozing. I rub the wetness, covering the tip. Take some on my finger. I rub it into him as he looks back at me. He likes the slipperiness. Another smile. I put the tip against the entrance to his holy body and press gently. He pushes, helping. Wanting. It goes in partly and I hold his slim hips. As I wonder. As I shiver with his beauty. His darkness holds me tightly. We pause and he puts his head down on the bed. I reach for him, find a pearl of slippery moisture at the end of it. Cover his shaft with more of it, squeezed from him by my fingers. His back is slim and strong. I kiss his shoulder and he squats down perceptibly wanting more. I push slowly, helped by all the slippery dew. All of me. I am in him now. Inside him. In his dark, moist bowels. He is bone-hard in my fingers. I work on him earnestly. He pushes back, now relaxed completely. Looser, easier. Wetter. The tightness is gone. My belly touches his round buttocks. All of me in all of him. I feel the hair at the root push hard against the ring of muscle at his entrance. He moves, making me move in him. He pushes hard back into me. I push hard to meet his strength. We are fucking. I am fucking him. I say it to myself. Unbelieving. My cock is as far in him as it can reach. Hard. Pulsing hard. His own, in my hand, is like a steel spring. He moves faster, harder. My root hair grinds against his stretched opening. I hold his chest with my other hand; feel him breathe harder. He is completely open. To me. For me. We work together for endless minutes. Changing our rhythms like a dance. Fast and hard, then slow and deep. We stop, pushing as hard as we can. The feeling of his closeness is indescribable. My knob tingles. As though ants were nibbling at it. There is so much heat in him. We move again. Faster. Harder. He wants so much of me. I drive it into him in fast, jarring strokes, pumping as hard as I can. I slow down, making long strokes far up into his depths. Inside, his muscles are pulsing with me - slippery and burning hot. He quivers. Suddenly wet. In my hand. A long spurt and then rain drops falling to the bed and floor. I finish him, squeezing and jerking. He pants openly, done at last. I thrust as hard as I can. It comes out of me, into him. My babies. My sperm. From my soul into his. Joy explodes in us. I explode in his sweetness. Spurts and spurts. I shudder and push hard, straining to empty myself in him, pushing hard. We slide down and lay forward on his bed together. I hold him under his arms, hugging, still in him. His legs are pulled up at the knees, holding me close to his ass. I bury myself in him deeper and soak. Soak in love with him. Soak in semen and rectal mucus. In our juices. I kiss his neck, leaving my lips on his warm skin. I hear him whisper, "...good." "Yes, " I whisper in return, "so good...!" I hear, very softly, "....love you..." "Me too...." I tell him. "I love you, too". I raise my hips and pull myself out of him; not much softer. At 17 it takes more than this to soften it. I get up but he lies, still spread, and it occurs to me to kiss him there. To taste myself in him. To drink it from his body. I kneel again and gently spread the cheeks and push in, sucking and tonguing. I taste us. Bitter and sweet. Musk. I suck our juices from his darkness; tasting both the promise and the fulfillment. He squirms, but opens his legs even more as I finish. As I rise, he turns over. He is still hard, too. I reach for his hand and pull him, standing, to hold him to me. He holds me so tightly. Love. Yes. Oh, yes. But the urgency is gone. Should we wait? We can - his parents are gone - we have all night. I pull my head back and he does, too. We smile our joy into each other's eyes. I look at his full lips. He moves toward me. A fraction. Twisting a little, our lips meet at last. His eyes close. He is sweeter than candy. Wet. Tongues. His tongue is hard, no, soft, no, alive. He eats mine; swallowing it. Gives me his. I suck it. It makes me want him in my mouth. Minutes? Hours? Eternities.... We can't stop. We feel ourselves - so hard against each other again. He pulls me to the bed. We fall clumsily, laughing. Lying side by side, we look at one another. His chest and arms aren't very muscular at all. His nipples are brown, erect. His belly is flat and tan, rounded at the bottom. His penis lies taut against his lower belly, hard and waiting. Mine sticks out more; it's bigger. He looks at me, too. All over. He touches my chest with the flat of his hand; moves it to my hip, moves it to my groin. Caresses. I separate my legs to let his hand get to my testicles. He likes to hold them. They're tight, like his. We both watch him hold my penis. He squeezes it in his fingers. Gently tugging. I reach for his and he offers it; thrusting out his hips toward my hand. We look at each other; gentle smiles. I've never felt so good. So wanted. I handle his cock as tenderly as if it were his heart. The end, under his foreskin, is sticky, slippery. His own hand explores me. Probes. I open my thighs for him and he reaches under; finds me. Gingerly, he pushes it into me, looking at my eyes. His finger feels small in me, but I push toward him to let him know that I want him, too. That I'll accept him. That he's already there. I roll on to my back, pulling him over me, and he kneels between my open thighs. He looks down at all of me, and pushes himself down, pressing against me. I take some spit on my fingers and wet us more. He presses into me carefully, but it's easy. Easy to take him. Easy to give myself to him. All the way. Up. Me. He feels so good. I put my legs on his shoulders, resting them lightly there. He lies down on me, pressing my hardness into his belly; his hardness into my body. I reach for his buttocks and pull him hard into me, rising to meet him. To let him in. His lower belly presses against the edge of my opening. He feels so good. He moves; beginning. After going in and out, deeper and deeper, he rests and holds me in his hands. Cradling with one; the other on my shaft. He's getting better already. He's so tender about it. So caring. His hips move him in and out of me as he works on me. Finally, I have to reach for his shoulders and bring him back down. Our lips can just meet. They do. I wonder briefly if it feels like this for girls? This good? This is so good. I love him. Deep, deep, deep. His tongue. His penis. I open wide for both. No thought for my own hardness; just welcoming him into my body. Into myself. He moves faster and harder into me. Farther up. My heart screaming in joy. I want him all inside me. I want his babies. I want his want. I need his need. His seed. His thighs push into the bones of my pelvis. The hard muscles at the base of his shaft and his pelvis slap against my opening. I squeeze him in me. He raises up, still pumping. Stares at me, jolting us now, breathing hard, a gleam of sweat on his temple. All the love in his eyes. Suddenly his arms go around my chest. He falls on me, hips moving in spasms. Trying to push his entire body into me AAhhhh..... I feel him jump and swell inside me. Hold him tight as he fills me with his hot, wet love. With his children. With himself. We rest. He softens in me and I gently roll him to the side, finally closing my thighs as he slides out of me. They're stiff. His arm moves over my chest and we sleep, holding each other. Hours later we wake - almost together. (How can that happen?) Stare a second and grin silly grins at one another. We're both hard, but it's bathroom time. Standing side by side at the toilet, giggling. Uncontrollably hard to aim. Holding one another; feeling tight sacs and bone hardness. He cups his hand over me, it splashes, wets me. I do the same to him; bright yellow splashes over his tan thighs. Urine all over the seat and floor. We laugh. We kiss; still spouting toward the bowl. Arms around waists, holding one another. I watch him; he watches me. Our hands and thighs are all wet when we finish. We dry each other, throwing the towel in the laundry basket. Empty, but throbbing again, we walk back to his bedroom. Stop and hug again. Tender. Feeling one another. Both in front and behind, this time. Concerto for four hands. Difficult. Hard in front. Sticky, slippery behind; not tight and dry anymore.. Fingers go in and out. Two fingers at once in him. He has three in me. I push back and squat slightly to open myself, wanting him in me. Our thighs are damp with urine. Drying. We're a mess. I pull away gently, go to the bed, lying on my back, and reach out to him. He comes, not sure of what we're playing. I turn him gently and pull him over me. His thighs on either side of my face. He understands. We take each other at the same time. Hungry. The musk and urine mix in my mouth. In his. I can swallow him, whole. Wetness and stickiness. He tries very hard to get all of me in his mouth. After a while, I release him and pull him further down, sucking at his opening. He helps me; spreading wider. My tongue slides easily in. His own head goes down between my thighs and I open them, rolling my legs back to give him room. His tongue feels like a hot worm in me. His lips like fat, warm butterflies. I push myself hard against his chest. His hands hold my cheeks open, stretching them. He squats down on my mouth, pressing hard as I work my tongue in him. We're dizzy with need for each other, but our lips tire; we slow down. He goes back to the shaft, sucking hard on the half he can swallow. Instinctively, he uses his hand on the rest. Up. I feel it happening. Down. My tongue is in him; I push it deeper, tasting his insides. My lips rest on the ring of muscle, sucking. Up. His other hand under my thigh. He pushes into me. Two fingers. Oh, Christ! Down. My hands rub frantically over his stretched buttocks and thighs. Squeezing between us, at my chest, I find him. Circle. Squeeze. Pull. Push. I feel myself tighten. I explode slowly into his mouth, five or six spurts. I feel his tongue move as he swallows to keep up. Each spurt is like pissing. Each feels like it fully empties me. Into his hungry mouth. His fingers feel so good inside me. They push it out of me for him, helping me feed him. Empty, I collapse. He suckles me, wanting more. His tongue in my slit, probing. His mouth hot and tight. Tired for a moment, I take him into my own mouth. He falls to the side. Our heads find our thighs; each the other. Pillowing. He is harder than I, but not for long. Not for long. I begin to repay him. First with my mouth; sucking hard at the red knob. My tongue searches under his foreskin, dissolving the remains of our glue. He is surely better at 11 than I was, even at 13. How will he grow? I feel a pain in my heart to think about the future. About him with others. Without me. I want to keep him as much as I want to keep my own youth. It's self- pity, though. I dismiss it. Remembering the present, feeling the wonder of just loving him. Amazed that we can do this. We soak slowly, dissolving in each other's mouths and souls. Resting. No hurry. After all, we have all night. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/> .../assm/faq.html> /