DANNY BOY - PART ONE
By joe wilson
I could hear my mother and father say wicked things to each other. Though I could hear every word they said as their angry whispers penetrated thin walls, I did't know what the words meant. I was ten years old. The source of their conflict was beyond my understanding. Then I heard a final shout, full of hissing pain, and the house shook with the force of the slamming front door. Mother laughed. There was triumph in the cackle of her sound. I hated her. I guess I always had. I loved the warmth and closeness of my Dad, who was caring and took me places and bought me toys and candy.
I didn't know it at the time, but he would never come home again. They divorced. Mother got custody from the court. Dad moved from Phoenix to Los angeles, and I fell into the well of loneliness.
Alan Carr was the oldest boy in the 8th grade, His family traveled a lot, and he missed so many classes that he was held back several years. I was almost fourteen, but Alan was already sixteen. He was the class sissy, and all the boys made fun of him despite his size and maturity.
Yet I felt comfortable with Alan. I liked him. He waited for me every morning at the corner so that we could walk to school together. He always greeted me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, moist and warm and very pleasant.
He was a tall boy, slender in stature with long arms and gangling legs. He walked with a graceful flair that was not acceptable to his peers. But as they laughed at him, he laughed at them too. Alan was comfortable with his mannerisms; a european trait absorbed by years abroad.
His eyes were clear blue and changed color-intensity with his mood. His long lashes were blond and almost imperceptible, except when tears wetted them, or sunshine glistened them. His constant smile was mischievous as though he knew secret things, which he did. His teeth sparkled, and laid claim to a healthy body, sweet-breathed and fresh. A luscious pink on his ivory cheeks enhanced the feeling of femininity and encouraged the boys to ask, "Are you a girl dressed as a boy?" His reply was always, "Lordy, I hope not," and flounced his long blond hair by tilting his head back and upward and rolling his eyes, his voice musical and cadenced. As I watched his performance, I replaced him for my uncles in my fantasies.
One morning he was more animated than usual, his smile warmer, and his greeting kiss directed to my lips rather than my cheek. He pressed my hand and pulled me to him and kissed me yet again, sucking the air from my throat through half-parted lips. I felt a brief surge in my pee-pee, a not uncommon excitement when I was with him.
"My parents left for New York this morning. I'LL be alone now," he paused, and then with a burst of confidance he added, "Will you come over this afternoon? You will. I know you will."
Though I was but a boy, underdeveloped, like fruit too green to be plucked from the tree, I was far advanced in the knowledge of sexual processes and, for that reason seemed always to be over-stimulated. Looking through the window glass, as my mother performed with my various 'uncles', the animal simplicity of the all-important fuck left no mystery, no romantic notions.
One night I saw the homosexual alternative. Crouching on the porch, I watched two men tangle in a naked dance, giving of themselves each to the other, while Mother looked on from the inside and I from the outside. I thought of my Dad, and wished his arms were around me, loving me. It was then that my fantasies shifted, and the naked male became the ultimate goal. And when Alan kissed me that morning, arousal stirred my immature loins, and a certain tightness gripped my throat. My breath came and went in short gasping moments, and I knew my fantasies were about to happen.
How long the school day seemed as I sat several rows behind him. I was unable to think of anything but Alan. He glanced back at me occasionally, fluttering lashes and swinging blond locks, his smile, secret and knowing. Finally the three PM bell rang. Ignoring jeers and unkind laughter he kissed me and took my hand. Our friendship was public, and I revelled in the realization of it.
There was no ceremony when we arrived into the privacy of his house. Once the door was closed he gathered me into his arms for a long and satisfying kiss, while busy fingers unbuttoned my shirt. The entry hall was dark, lit only by the window on the stairway landing. I felt comforted in this dim cavern, and excited too, for I knew that we would soon be undressed.
When he dropped his silken panties, and I saw his huge upright cock surrounded by blond hair, I wondered if he would accept my immature body, but he put his arms around me. He pulled me to him and his smooth satiny skin rode over mine, sending sharp electric impulses down my spine.
"Come on," he cried in a high pitched excited voice, "Come to my rooms. I want to eat you alive and gobble you up." And I glanced up the stairs watching his creamy buttocks rotate enticingly.
"Come on, Danny. Hurry! I can't wait! I've wanted you for ever so long." A moment later I was on the bed with him, our naked bodies pressed together, our kisses were long and wet and excited me.
The shadows of the winter afternoon slipped into the window and darkened the huge bed. The covers had been thrown awry and the blue sheets took on a darker tone. Alan stretched, reaching for the lamp. A loud click announced the soft red glow giving his ivory flesh a marvelous sheen. As he arched his body over mine, I inhaled the heat of his excesses, for we were so positioned on the bed that the motion placed his loins scarcely inches from my face. A certain tightness swarmed over my neck and throat and sharp electric pains coursed down my back. But as my eyes feasted on his big cock, I could not touch it, yet I wanted to. My parched throat needed his sweet cum to satisfy the fire burning inside, but I had not yet learned this.
He shifted his position and brought his body lengthwise with mine. Our skin touched, one to the other, and his tongue sought mine. My pee-pee was as hard as ever it could get and, as I sensed his mouth leaving mine, tracing wet ribbons down my neck, chest and belly, the warm moist mouth-cave lapped at the pee-pee and hairless balls and I shuddered a dry climax. He continued sucking, trying to draw love-juice, but I had to pull away for the pleasure had turned to pain.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," he paused gazing at me with a caring face, flushed with warmth, "It's the way I like it right now. Besides, It'll happen soon enough, and when it does I want to be the first. The first to taste you."
"But I should do it to you too. I want to. I really want to. I don't know what is stopping me."
"That's okay. You'll do it when you're ready, and then you'll wonder why you waited. Just play with it a little, with your hands, Easy! Ahhhh!" and he fell onto his back, and I looked at his beauty once more.
I cupped his balls into my hands, as gently as I could and slowly worked the throbbing cock back and forth so that the foreskin massaged the head of it. His groans and twists of the torso gave me pleasure for I knew that I was giving pleasure to him. And then his cock seemed to stiffen even more, and sticky white cream spurted on to his shoulder and his face, and an errant stream struck me in the chest. I watched in wonderment as the faithful geyser called up from the reservoir in the depths of him, and splashed its pleasure over both of us. He raised his arms and drew me to him and as we kissed, I could feel him still spouting between my legs.
Several afternoons later we lay naked upon the bed of blue sheets, under the red lamp, which fought the darkness of the winter sky. We had completed our preliminary caresses and kisses, and had honed the sharpness of the blades of passion to their most stretched-out point. A great surge of lust engulfed me, and with unaccustomed abandon, I cupped his testicles in my hands and squeezing gently, I watched his cock harden to its full power. The foreskin rolled back, and the shiny glans penus beckoned me. Caught in its' power, I leaned forward and kissed it lightly on the exposed tip. I closed my eyes and sucked it into my mouth, and in that instant, I learned the peace and harmony and complete fulfillment that belongs only to the cocksucker.
His slow thrusts forced his cock deeper into my throat. It was accompanied by almost silent whimpering. And as I sucked the heat of him, his intensity grew just as the fullness of his cock grew, and his pleasure caused him to cry out, and I knew that it was I who now controlled him. It was my destiny to bring him to an orgasmic climax. It was then I learned the power and excitement of the tease.
"Danny," he cried, "Danny...."
I kissed his balls and slithered my tongue up the underside of the shaft, and he moaned his hunger, growled his needs, thrashed his naked body about. His hard cock satisfied my own hungers in an oblique and subtle way. This was it. What I had been searching for. I pulled away, and sitting up on my haunches I took several long minutes to look at this beautiful animal. For he was beautiful. A slim and naked body, white and silken, luscious peach tones, and wreath of blond hair surrounding a soaring cock.
In the mirror on the wall, I saw my own undeveloped body. A boy, a nymph? A boy with the passions of a man. And I bent forward again and sucked the love cream from his spouting fountain.
We shared our love every afternoon in the darkened bedroom of the blue sheets and ruby lamp. In April as the spring developed, so did I. That is, I developed my own spring. And one raining afternoon, in the heat of prolonged foreplay, he buried his nose and chin in the sparse black wiry pubic hair that had so recently grown down there. He kissed and slobbered upon my soaring cock, and swallowed it down his throat. And I spouted great gobs of cum for the first time ever, and when my convulsive thrusts ended in exhaustion, he kissed me on opened lips, so that I too, could taste my own sweet sticky essence.
DANNY BOY - PART TWO
by joe wilson
In June, the long days of summer began. Alans' family closed the house on the hill, for they moved to New York. It would seem that I should be devastated at losing the beautiful Alan, but instead, I was relieved to see him go. I was fast approaching my full maturity, my manhood, if you can call a fifteen year old boy a man. For my sexual needs increased with each encounter I had with Alan.
After many months of afternoon trysts with the golden boy, I lost that first immediate and overwhelming passion I felt for him. His sweetness and effeminate ways, though always exciting, did not completely satisfy me. In my secret thoughts, I was haunted by the image of more mature men. Perhaps it was the need of a young boy for his father; I had not seen mine in five years.
After a long, boring and uneventful summer, I returned to school with increased anticipation, The tenth grade. A freshman in high school. 'A new adventure,' I told myself. I was the youngest in a student body of nine hundred boys and men.
I had little interest in sports, but the compulsory gym class was an exciting revelation. I could barely contain myself when I walked into the steamy locker and shower room, and saw men and boys of every description, naked and totally unabashed by it, cavorting in the mist from the shower, bragging over the development of pubic hair and growing penises. I proudly exhibited my own body as they did theirs, and thus took pleasure in walking naked among my peers, but my ever-active imagination concentrated on the loving aspects of certain cocks, swinging like pendulums, cut or uncut, and the familiar stirrings in my loins forced me to cover myself with a towel. It struck me how much I needed the physical contact that I once had with Alan......the feel of a warm, silky body rubbing aginst mine.....the splash of cum in the back of my throat.
I learned that later, in the afternoon the older students, those active in sports, the jocks, used the shower and locker room after practice sesions. I applied for, and got, the job of gathering up the used towels, damp from caressing secret places, straightening the benches, making certain all the lockers were locked, and that the water in the showers was turned off. This marvelous job authorized me to be in the gym when the athletes were there......thirty or forty or fifty naked men, not boys, strutting their macho bodies for me. I sat on a bench, my back against the wall and watched them, horny and ready. I was naked too, but I covered my throbbing cock, carefully and securely, with a towel.
One raining afternoon, though practice had been cancelled, I went into the gym. I heard the sound of the shower splashing its force upon the tile floor. I had expected it would be empty, but was thrilled when I realized someone was there. He had his back to me as he soaped his body, but I recognized Bill Hogan, the tall, slim, wiry macho basketball player. He was the top athlete of the school. A real letterman-hero, and my fantasy lover.
I sat at my usual place on the bench where I had full view of the shower- room. Pulling down my fly I reached my hand inside. My fingers excited my cock as they massaged the warm love-nest of pubic hair, solid balls and rising muscle-meat.
He turned toward me slightly, just enough for me to see the profile of his body strung with sinewy muscle. His cock jutted out in a horizontal stance. It was erect and he was pumping it. The soapy foreskin slid back and forth over the tip as he masturbated. His eyes were closed, living a secret dream. As I watched, observing all the beautiful proportions of his naked body, I knew I had to have him. I had to taste that luscious cock. 'I can give him pleasure,' I thought, 'Better than jacking off.' I thought of Alan, the sweet effeminate Alan Carr. I realized how far in the past Alan was. He was only a brief interlude, a stepping stone to the sensual side of life. But I needed him no more. It was men, men like Bill Hogan that I craved.
Without realizing what I was doing until it was done, I slipped out of my clothes. Naked, I was drawn into the shower-room like a piece of flotsam caught in a whirlpool.
I was beside him now, the warm water cascaded down upon us. Suddenly, he realized he was not alone, and he turned to me, opening his eyes. He resented being interrupted, the intrusion of another body.
"Hey," he cried.
"I can't help it," I said, reaching to him.
"What the fuck you think you're doing?"
"I can't help it," and my fingers grazed over the low-hanging testicles, the hairs wetted and plastered to the wrinkled skin. "Please, please don't stop me."
"Aaaahhhh!," he moaned, smiling at last, and I knelt down and his cock slipped into my mouth.
I had forgotton how sweet the pleasure could be, the sense of harmony and completeness overwhelmed me. On my knees, my arms grabbed his buttocks pulling him to me so that his cock could go deeper into my throat. The water splashed out of the shower and pounded upon my head and shoulders. With a cry, he thrust his hips forward and ejected his spurts of cum into my mouth, one and then another and another, in so rapid succession that I could barely swallow them in time to receive the next. And as he emptied his orgasm into me, my own cock ejaculated cream onto the tile floor and the water washed the cum down the drain.
"Jesus christ!" he said at last as he leaned his willowy stature against the wall. "Jesus H. Christ!" But he was smiling, and I knew that he was mine.
Now every afternoon, when practice sessions were over, we were the last to leave. Alone in the shower we satisfied our lust, for his needs were as great as mine.
The following February, I looked out the window of the bus as it sloshed through puddles of warm rain that had accumulated on the surface of interstate 10. The wide and heavy tires sang a monotonous litany in an uninterrupted rhythm that counterpointed the heavy beating of my heart. Outside the window was the desert that connected Phoenix to Los Angeles. I was on my way to live with my Dad, a circumstance that should have lightened my heart, but instead, clouded it with an imposing dread. I was being sent to him by my mother and her newly acquired husband.
"We wash our hands of you," they yelled.
The principal of the high school had called them. I was suspended. The gym teacher had come into the locker room just as I was sucking on Bill Hogans' cock. The teacher didn't mention him, but I was reported with indignant complaint and graphic description. And now I was on my way to my Dad, a man I deeply loved, but had not seen in almost six years. Needless to say I was devastated. For the first time, great shades of guilt and confusion consumed me. How can I face my father now?
It was raining in Los Angeles when the bus pulled into the station. A warm heavy rain beating down with an ominous pressure. The heaviness in my heart and the sinking feeling washed over me like a giant wave, as I saw him standing there in the open, away from shelter, carefully calculating where the bus would stop and the door open. He was smiling.
"Danny!" he cried. and he hugged me, smothering me with kisses, holding me close, then forcing me away so that he could look at me. Only the rain came between us and it didn't matter.
"You're so tall. Not the little boy anymore. Oh Danny! I'm so glad you've come. I knew you would one day. We have so much to talk about."
His enthusiasm was the palliative that resolved my doubts and forebodings. "He doesn't know why Mother sent me to him." And I was caught up in his excitement. I smiled, then laughed and hugged him as he pulled me out of the drenching rain into the station where we waited for my suitcase. And we looked at each other once more with mounting approval. "It's going to be alright," I said to myself. "It's okay. He doesn't know."
He gave me a bottle of beer with dinner, my first, and his eyes sparkled as he poured the amber liquid into a glass. "This will warm you and make you sleep tonight."
As our clothes were wet from the rain, we changed into warm robes, and sat by the fire which crackled with burning eucalyptus, as we became acquainted once more. As I looked at him I tried to fit him into the six years we had been separated. At sixteen, six years is an enormous gap, yet our thoughts seemed to meld together, and soon it was as though we had never parted.
He appeared to have lost heighth. My impression of him had been that he was overly tall, but I myself had almost doubled in size during the intervening years so that now we were the same except for weight. He was younger than I remembered. Now that I had caught up to him in height, so too was I gaining in years. His clean-shaven face was young and boyish. Uncombed hair fell over his forehead and into his blue eyes which seemed to dart everywhere, alive and interested in my stories of growing up. He tossed his head back and laughed delightedly at all my adventures.
His hands were soft, his nails manicured. The robes we wore were of light cashmere. I glanced around the room and sensed an aura of under- stated luxury, orderly and beautiful....white carpeting, elegant lamps, silken draperies covered the windows and muffled the traffic on Los Feliz Boulevard.
"I'm doing well, Danny," he said quietly. I've worked hard and it's paid off.....nothing fancy, you understand, nor important either. I bought a small bar downtown, just a little place, and they went and built the courthouse right across the street. Big shots of customers. So I raised the prices. I fixed it up like a club. Got a decorator and everything, and the high rollers in the city liked it. I'm only open from three in the afternoon till nine or ten at night, so for a long time I ran it myself, no payroll or expenses. Now I have a bartender who watches the place when I'm away, like tonight. Being in the civic enter, I close on saturday and sunday, so it's as easy as it is lucrative. And the next two days I can show you the town. You've never seen the ocean, have you Danny? And how about Hollywood? Right up the hill behind us ia a planetarium and you can see all over the city."
He was flooded with happy excitement and it was infectious, and I forgot the reason I was sent to him. For a moment I was happy too. I told him of my dreams, as he told me of his, and we shared a closeness that had always been there despite our separation. The contentedness that flooded over me, combined with the warmth of hearth and the beer, and a demanding drowsiness came over me.
Dads' apartmeent had but one bedroom, but the bed was huge, and as he tucked in a corner of it, he kissed me with a wish for pleasant dreams and I was asleep.
Sometime in the night, I awoke with the familiar sense of dread that clouded over me ever since I was sent to the principals' office. My Dad was wonderful and being here with him was wonderful, but Mother will tell him about me I knew. It was only a matter of time until he would learn the truth, and my whole body blushed with the shame that had come to me.
I fretted for what seemed a long time trying not to shift position too frequently and thus disturb Dad. I was too agitated to sleep, too burdened with concern.
As the dawn began to lighten the sky, I realized that Dad was awake too. The bed moved when he turned around. I felt his warm hand on hy hip as he touched me.
"Danny," he whispered, "Danny, you awake?"
I eased onto my back facing the dark recesses of the ceiling, "Yes Dad, I'm awake."
"Danny, you okay? You seemed kind of worried last night and I don't think you slept much. Seems to me like somethings eating you," He raised himself on one arm and looked down at me in the dim light of dawn.
I didn't say anything, but pulled my robe over, to cover me, for in the night it had fallen away. "I guess I'm okay Dad, it's just......well, it's just that I'm here and you should know why I'm here."
"But I do know, Danny." He was speaking in a low voice, "Your mother told me all the details about you and the boy at school."
I didn't answer him. What could I say? I was only conscious now of him looking at me, knowing that he knew all along what I had done. I started to cry, and as I tried to withhold the tears, a choking sob broke loose.
"Ah, Danny, don't cry. There's no reason for you to cry." He put his arm around me and drew me to him. His warm, hairy, silky flesh comforted my misery, and I snuggled into him, twisting a little so that I could look at him. In the dim light, the softened and gentle expression filled me with a warm glow as I accepted his kiss. My arm was around his shoulder holding him to me lest something should pull us apart, and my free hand touched his testicles, protected by fine spider-web hair, an then his swollen penis, I encircled it with my fingers and rolled the foreskin over that most sensitive ridge. The past few years had taught me much in how to give pleasure to a man. I pulled away to look at his body. He was looking at me too.
He was naked, no encumbrances clothed him. I slipped out of the robe that I only half wore, and was naked too. I liked the hair on his body, surrounding his absolutely huge cock. His eyes twinkled as he smiled and I realized he was not at all embarrassed, and neither was I. In fact, we were both proud of our excited and erect cocks. I put my arms around him and kissed him again, my tongue deep in his mouth, and then pulled away.
I knelt upright on the bed and bent forward. Tracing my tongue down his long torso, I stopped at each nipple for a few moments titillation, and then to the belly button, and then I slipped over the cock and hairy balls. His male smell was stong and musky and excited me. He put pressure on my left leg. I knew what he wanted, so I straddled his head, just behind the shoulders, and I lowered my loins to his open mouth. I licked and sucked his balls, then guided my tongue up the shaft of his penis, sensing the bulging vessels filled with blood, to the tip. He lay still as I sucked his cock into my mouth. Ah my god! This is Dad, my Dad. He lay still groaning, in almost inaudible gasps. And then the real pleasure came to me as he took my cock. His warm, wet tongue licked it. The sweet pleasure came two ways, giving and receiving.
The primal need we had that night soon took over, and despite our desire to prolong our pleasures, the passion climbed quickly, soaring to that exquisite non-returnable level, pumping, groaning, sucking faster and faster to a gushing climax of sweet cum. Sated, yet hungry for more, we separated, fully aware that this was only the beginning of an inevitable happening that was beyond our contol.
"Danny?"
"Yes, Dad."
"You see, Danny, how it with me. The same as you. We are what we are, Danny, and there's no use denying it. Lord knows there was a time when I tried to be something else, but it doesn't work. You understand what I mean, don't you?"
"Yes, Dad, I do......I understand....I'm glad they made me come to you."
"So am I, Danny." And he put his arms around me and kissed me, and we began again slowly, this time...........
He stirred, a slight tightening of arms, a shift of position. The sound of the steady drum of the rain upon the roof carried me to full wakefulness. A soft light flooded the room as he snapped the switch on the lamp. "Aaaaaah, Danny....you okay?"
"Yes Dad, I'm okay now," and I twisted around so that I could see him, look into his eyes. I returned his smile with my own.
"Does it bother you? What we did?"
"No Dad. I'm a little sore maybe. Kinda tender down there, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."
"I mean doin it. Letting me fuck you, you know. We did a lot of stuff together, the sex and all, I mean. It's not the most acceptable thing, a father and son, you know what I mean, what I'm trying to say?"
"Shit! That I feel guilty?" I laughed, "Making it with my Dad?" I sat up on the bed, my eyes held his in a steady lock. "I loved it, Dad. Every minute of it. I feel free now. Comfortable with my self.
"Even when I first made it with Alan, I felt there was something wrong about it. I guess it was the guilties. And then when they caught me going down on Bill, I was ashamed. They made me ashamed for what I was. They kept calling me queer and sissy and faggot. But now I know what I am. I'm not bad, I'm just different, I can't help it. That's the way I am. And if I get off sucking on your cock, or any one elses, that doesn't make me any less a person does it............?"
And so I found where I belonged in the scheme of things, and the direction I took, the path I followed, led to a wonderful life of freedom and fulfillment, but that is a story that is yet to be told.......
joe wilson
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