("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2005. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- My Grownup and Me by Tinman (tinmanjc9@hotmail.com) *** As a nine year old, I was already a sex addict. When a grownup played with me at the movie theatre, I not only enjoyed it I wanted more. (MM, Mb, ped, 1st-gay-expr, mast) *** In the fourth grade at a Catholic school in Kansas City. I was nine, ‘cause I got an early start in school, my birthday being in early September. Nine year old boys didn’t have much to do in those 1944 WWII days; no TV, no radio, no playground or park close by, only a few toys to play with and, of course, my little pecker. I’d been taught how to play with my pecker by three girl cousins and a young boy who happened along one afternoon back down in southern Missouri where I was born and spent the first eight years of my life. I liked playing with my pecker. I did it whenever I could. Sometimes my friend, Bobby, a year older than me, who lived on the street behind us, would join me. We’d play with our own, and then we’d handle each other’s. Neither of us had yet started to cum, although the playing felt mighty good. Still, cumming was still ahead of us by a couple of years or so. I had my own room in our apartment and both mom and dad worked all day until late, so Bobby and I could get together almost every day. We played soldiers, cowboys and other games, but we got more fun from our young pricks than anything. It seems odd now that I look back that we never thought of sucking each other, nor of trying to put our little stiffies up each other’s bottoms. Just never occurred to us. Our apartment house was just a block away from a small row of shops that included a market and a movie theatre. Movies in those days only cost a dime. I could usually manage to squeeze enough out of mom for a Saturday morning movie, coke and popcorn; a total of a quarter, or two bits, as we called it then. The theatre showed movies featuring the Three Stooges, Ollie and Stan, Gene Au trey and other kid stuff. For some reason, Bobby never accompanied me to the movies. But I was a Saturday morning regular. I always chose a seat about four rows back from the front. The theatre was never very crowded in the mornings, just a few kids was about all, and an occasional grownup. Hardly ever did anyone else sit in the same row with me, but now and then if the theatre was a little crowded there would be others in the same row. I liked to sit about four seats in from the left aisle for some reason, probably because it was easier and faster to get up and run to pee. Anyway, this one morning I had laid down my dime, got my coke and popcorn, found my regular seat and munched until the bag of popcorn was gone. As I watched the movies, I noticed a grownup entering my row. It was fall, a little chilly, and he had on a dark jacket that came about arm’s length. Although our row wasn’t crowded, there were a few people in the row that morning. So I really didn’t really think anything about it when this guy sat in the seat right next to mine, ignoring the other two seats by the aisle. We watched the movie for a while. I don’t remember what it was, but I remember that it was a comedy and everyone laughed a lot. During one of the big laughs, I felt my neighbor’s hand on the arm rest, and then felt it slip over the rest and land on my leg. He slid it slowly back and forth, moving it up and gave my thigh a squeeze. I liked the feel of that. It kind of tickled, although tickle really isn’t the right word to describe that yummy sexual feeling I get when someone else touches me. For a while, he just stroked my thigh, making me feel good as I watched the movie. I never even looked at him, but I sure enjoyed the contact. I wasn’t being molested; in fact I’d never even heard the word. For me, it was just very, very nice. Pretty soon, his hand was cupping my crotch and kind of squeezing me there. His hand was making my boy-cock stiffer and stiffer. It sure felt good. He carefully unbuttoned my corduroys and opened them wide. He reached inside looking for my prick. I knew what he was doing, so I helped him; I jiggled and squirmed around and pushed my little-boy jockeys down, freeing my little hard on. His hand immediately went around it, and skinned the foreskin back and forth several times. I had not yet been circumcised – that would come some 20 years later. He made it feel wonderful for me, and that tickle just kept getting stronger deep up in my little bottom. Then his hand left me, disappointing me at the loss of those good feelings. He took my hand and moved it to his lap. I was surprised to find a large, very warm, rigid pole sticking up from his lap. It took me a few seconds to realize it was his cock. He had his cock out and it was sticking straight up. He placed my hand around the big, hot thing and showed me how to move my hand up and down. When I got the idea and started doing it myself, his hand returned to my lap and my little hard on. I was really enjoying this entire thing. This was the biggest dickie I had ever handled. I wished I could see it, but whenever I would look it was too dark to see anything. So I just kept moving his skin up and down. I did notice that some very slippery stuff was coming out the tip of his thing and sliding down to my hand, making it smoother for me to rub him up and down. I also noticed that he was kind of raising and lowering himself to match my hand movements. Now, of course, I realize that he was fucking my hand. And all slippery lubrication made his dick actually slide inside my hand some as he moved. He was also moving his hand faster and faster on my little guy. Now and then he would let go the shaft and cup and squeeze my ball sack, then return to slide my shaft up and down again. I remember that I felt kind of wet down there, so I suppose I was actually lubricating as he was, only not as much of course. The feeling of my slippery wetness must have been a real turn on for him, just as his wetness was for me. I didn’t know why, but it sure was. I was getting pretty excited, so much so that I almost forgot the movie. Then, without saying anything I felt him raise up, lifting his prick in my hand, and something very warm and wet was sliding down over my hand. Lots of it, and a rich scent hit my nose. It was the scent of man sex, although I wouldn’t recognize it as such for many years yet; still, I remember it well. I felt his hand leave my stiffie and grasp my hand on his cock and squeeze really hard, and still more of that hot wet stuff poured down over my hand, making him slipperier still. Finally, he kind of grunted quietly and relaxed. His cock immediately began to soften and shrink. He wiped my hand off with his handkerchief, fastened his trousers up and got up and left. He never said a word the entire time, nor did I. I was left with my little prick still standing up straight, all stiff and kind of throbbing. But soon it was shrinking, too, for lack of stimulation I suppose. So I put him away and re-buttoned my courds. I went back to focusing on the movies, laughing and enjoying the antics of Stan and Ollie. Later, much later, I thought to myself what an opportunity that guy missed. If he had even hinted that he’d like me to leave with him, I’d have done so in a minute. He could have taken me to his place, or anywhere for that matter, and he could have had his way with me in just about any way he wanted. I was really a willing kid, I loved anything sexual, and anyone who knew more than I did was a real treat to me. I wanted to do more, more, more!! Every Saturday I went to the movies until we moved away from Kansas City a year after WWII ended. I always sat in the same seat area, and I always hoped my grownup would come back and we’d do that again. My prick would get stiff just thinking about it, and sometimes I’d just take him out in the theatre and give him the two- finger exercise for a while. But, my grownup never showed up again. Too bad. Some say I was abused. I say, bullshit! I didn’t feel abused then, and I’ve never felt abused since. I didn’t turn out gay, I turned out bisexual. My life wasn’t ruined, it was affected in the same way that all life experiences affect our futures. And my memory of that day has always been good for an occasional masturbatory session, invariably resulting in a very warm and wonderful soul-wracking orgasm. Funny, eh? END [Tinman writes for fun mostly. I invite positive feedback and will answer all reasonable comments; unreasonable ones will be trash-canned.] *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* The author does not condone child abuse, this story is meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their local prison. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Kristen's collection - Directory 36