Generation Gap

“It’s good for him, being wanted by an older man whom he respects. Makes him feel special, and needed.”

“You know this how?”

“He said so when he came back from the class I signed him up for. You know, Sex-Ed, at the Generation Gap Group Home."

“Explain.”

“Petey’s tummy was turned by the idea of being teamed with a boy his age. I mean, he did what was expected – took off his clothes, jerked off and was jerked off by that kid, Sam Goody. They were posed together for photos with hands on each other’s cock, on each other’s butt.”

“Sounds harmless.”

“Boring, too. Sam’s myopic. His eyes roved aimlessly. Petey, however, had his eye on the instructor who was demonstrating how to kiss. Said the man could stop a train he’s so good looking. Only, the boy he was using, that sap Melvin Twain, didn’t want to kiss. Complained in his whiny way that he didn’t like his balls being fondled, didn’t want his mouth opened for Mr. Kent’s tongue, didn’t even want to be there.”

“So what did Petey do?”

“He grabbed flimsy Sam, pulled him into a mock embrace, leaned his head back, and began kissing him. The class saw what was going on. Their ruckus drew Mr. Kent’s attention. He knelt, concerned they get it right. Counseled Petey not to chew but to suck on Sam’s tongue. ‘If you want to turn him on more, slip your free hand down to his backside and diddle his ass,’ he said.”

“Must be a good teacher.”

“Wait, I haven’t gotten to the good part. Mr. Kent told the other kids to gather around, he would demonstrate to Petey how to kiss Sam. ‘Wrong!’ Petey told him. ‘You demonstrate with me.’ He cast Sam aside and flung himself against the man, squeezing his packed jockstrap and directing the guy’s hand to his own butt.”

“Forthright. You’ve raised him well. Knows what he wants?”

“Okay, yes. I’ve done the usual ‘Dad thing’ for him since he sprouted. Only thing is, it’s dawned on him that I’m dutiful – like any good father. He respects me. But he wants a man who’ll make him feel more special. And, as you know, I’m not at home a lot. I volunteer my cock at the County Reformatory for the upper tier lads applying for probation.”

“Of course, I know. I volunteer there, too, on weekends when you’re teeing off with your cronies.”

“Sorry, Hal, I did know that. Say, are you the one who those Puerto Ricans, Martin and Ricky, were fighting over?”

“Am I blushing? Yes. Broke it up, though. Smacked ’em both upside the head, whacked their balls, then made ’em lie down on the gravel to be fucked. They learned their lesson. Should be back in circulation by next Saturday.”

“Full of respect for you, I imagine.”

“Warden Stone says so. Anyway, tell me more about your Petey and his instructor’s kiss.”

“You should hear it straight from my boy. He’ll be proud to tell you. I’ll call to him. He’s in his room. Hey, Petey babe! Yoo-hoo, can you come downstairs? Bring your visitor, too.”

“Busy with a friend?”

“Yeah, practice-fucking Sam Goody. Homework assignment, you know.”

“Hi, Dad, who’s this looker? Sam, pull up your pants all the way…and don’t fart.”

“Petey, I’m Max. Been hearing about how you got young Mr. Kent’s cooperation at the GGG Home. Your dad says you’ll tell me the details.”

“Sure thing. Let’s all sit down.”

“Sam, you get some paper towels from the kitchen, so you won’t leak on the upholstery.  Listen guys, Sex-Ed wasn’t the only thing I’ve been taking at the Home. English Comp, taught by a really broad-minded lady. For her, I wrote the thing like, I guess, an essay or something. I’ll read it to you. … Sam, keep those paper towels in your crack and run upstairs. Bring back that red folder on my table, will you?”

“Training him for something?”

“Sam’s got no imagination, so he’s okay with being told what to do, especially when I reward him with kisses and use him for buttfuck practice – like Dad used to do with me.”

“That’s my boy. And here comes Sam.”

“Thanks for bringing this. Now sit. Here we go.”

My First Kiss

By Peter Brown

-I’d never really kissed anyone – seriously. Only followed directions to try kissing with another boy as part of GGH’s educational program here. That wasn’t going anywhere until I challenged our instructor, Mr. Kent. I now think it was somehow the right thing to further my education. I was thinking ahead, I suppose. When I had myself in his arms, I leaned up close and pressed my lips to his.

-I knew how men are supposed to kiss from seeing it in my Dad’s porn movies. So I pressed with my tongue and wriggled it a bit, and pressed harder to force his mouth open, and then I was feeling and tasting Mr. Kent’s spit. I explored, my cock growing painfully hard as my tongue pressed against his. Then, all of a sudden, it was almost as if we were fighting - I’d grabbed his head and pulled it tight against mine as our open mouths locked together, then both our tongues were darting in and out, and I felt his hand pull my head almost at right angles with our lips still together as we panted and gasped. I slid my hand up his chest and pinched his nipples. That and the thrashing of our tongues forced my passion to take hold of him.

-When he took over, my smart-aleck behavior drained away. In his hands I became soft clay. Mr. Kent bent me back, laid me down – I was naked, remember? – climbed on top of me. Whoo! His goodies in that jockstrap nudged my balls something fierce. He started to dry-hump me – Petey Brown! – while I was trying to breathe more than the air from his nose. I needed the fresh stuff but my mouth was crammed with his tongue. It was a pre-dick-ament.

-That pun was correctly used. My dick, feeling his all crumpled up rubbing into my supercharged balls, would have fired off except for what little creep Melvin did. The prank that local history and all the boys who were there will never forget was to get a pair of scissors from the crafts table and to sneak up behind where Mr. Kent was on top of me and to cut the waistband of his jockstrap.   Melvin squealed with some other boy swiped the thing right off, leaving Mr. Kent free to get me but good.

The End

“Petey, that can’t be the end. There’s no summary or conclusion.”

“Oh, yeah? Max, there was a conclusion, believe me. Dad, why’s he so huffy?”

“It’s just that an essay for English Composition must have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Where’s yours?”

“In my pants. Want to see?”

“If you were mine, I’d smack you for impertinence. I only want to know what happened.”

“I’ll tell you, but I won’t write it ’cause it was a let-down.”

“Would you tell the man, Petey, so we can go back to my lesson?”

“Okay, Sam. I really do need to practice with you to get good.”

“I’m still greased.”

“Look guys, we were in the thick of things when memory struck Mr. Kent hard. He stopped. ‘The oral part of Sex-Ed isn’t complete,’ he worried. ‘After kissing comes sucking. We can’t fuck – that belongs in the anal phase.’ I offered to skip the rest of the oral phase, but he said no. That’s when he said I could jump ahead on my own with Sam, here. He expects me to show up at the Home next time ready to learn to suck. Now, you understand why my essay has to stop. I can’t bring myself to write about anything so disgusting.”

“Max, I didn’t know the Generation Gap Group Home was teaching queer behaviors, did you?

“No. That’s distressing. Must be worrisome for you, Petey, because you’re being coerced into a relationship with a boy of your generation when you should have a man in your life – one who really wants you. What about your coming home with me for a couple of nights? I can do a lot for you.”

“Dad? What do you think? He’s acting nicer than before – and he’s tall and bulky the way you are, and hairy all over, I’ll bet. Only one thing. What about Sam here? Sam hasn’t been fucked much and he wants to be.”

“Son, I’ll look after Sam – if that’s all right with you, Sam – while you and Max check each other out.

“Mr. Brown?”

“Yes, Sam?”

“Is your dick like Petey’s? … My, that’s a nice smile.”

“Max? Is your dick as big as my Dad’s?”

“No, Petey. Bigger. Longer. Stronger.”

“Bye, Sam.”

“Bye, Petey.”

* * * *

I admit setting that up. My end goal was Sam Goody’s bod. Ever since seeing him prancing around with Petey, seeing that high-arched nose of his and Cupid’s-bow lips, his nips poking his always too-tight flex-cotton pullovers, and the way his tush stands out so roundly it looks padded – who wouldn’t want to fuck him?

Trouble was, Petey was in my way. That’s why Max was exactly the right person to entice him toward. Built big, Max stood out in all the places a sensitive boy’s eyes wanted to see. Especially strong arms for hugging, a firm expression, and a basket the size of, well, a basket. My plan, worked out in advance, worked one hundred percent.

Sam is mine.

* * * *

Max led Petey to his bedroom at home. He closed the curtains to dim the light.

Petey looked dreamily at his host who loosened his clothes. They tumbled to the floor.

“I burn,” Max’s eyes raked him. “I’m going to take my pleasure with you. I must.”

With his jaw tilted up in parallel to his risen penis, Petey drew down the man’s bristly forearms until it was obvious his youthful mouth was on offer.

As clumsy hands pulled together mature and maturing faces, the malleable innocence of Petey’s lips astonished Max. His sex strained during the kiss.  An arm cradled the boy’s head; the other moved from a hardened nipple to test genital readiness, then reached beneath, gathered balls for access beyond, and contacted the springy gate to lovers’ paradise.

Kiss intact, they landed on the bed. Max, lost in the response from Petey, groped blindly to press his advantage. Petey panicked at the finger punching his perineum. He sought, found, and squeezed the nearest part of Max he could, his hairy root.

“Ease off, Max. Get some lube.”

Seething, Max thought too much KY would dampen his sensations. Yet, the sight of Petey spreading it on himself in the back then careening to the bed, legs up, tokened readiness.

This could be good. Maybe special, his booty’s beautiful. How will it look when I’m in there?

Bursting with anticipation, Max hovered, lowered, centered, entered. A look of possible reluctance stopped him, faded in mere seconds.

Petey nodded, closed his eyes once, and then opened them wide as if preparing for something special.

Max entered further. Paused for adjustments being made, he imagined, to his girth. He braced himself to gain traction for the pure elation of lusty conquest. Began to plow.

Suddenly, the catch of an undertow, a whirlpool, a vortex of anal muscles, gradual at first, then accelerating dizzily. Thirty-two vigorous, loin-sapping minutes later, consumed by climax, his final cum plunged through, hemorrhaging every vesicle.

Bloodshot, his eyes rolled. To get his wind back, he puffed and huffed. Grateful breaths later, he asked himself where he was. Blinking, he saw what at first he could not feel: He was..in…deep….inside a sprawled young guy happy as the blissful dead. His were the ankles now lolling lifelessly across Max’s arms.

“Petey?”

“Hi, Max. That was great. Can you do it again?”

* * * *

I, Hal Brown, being of devious mind and rife with desire for diminutive Sam Goody, hereby resolve to report the truth about my dalliance with same.

All of five feet, three inches tall and weighing one-hundred-twenty-two pounds, Sam is pleasantly dispositioned, if not particularly self-demonstrative. By that, I mean, the kid’s passive. With my son ever since they met at the Generation Gap Group Home, Sam is amenable to simple masturbation and, up till he met me, to being fucked by Petey for practice purposes.

Without a word of complaint.

Their roles as Alpha and Beta were a prescription by the GGG Home’s instructor, Mr. Clarkson Kent. Mr. Kent, for whom Petey’s heart throbbed, has a rigid schedule for his Sex-Education classes. It could not accommodate the omission of oral sex as following oral expression by way of mouth-to-mouth contact, or kissing.

Thus, Petey did not get his way. Mr.Kent declined the honor of fucking my raring-to-go son. His loss, I can tell you. Petey’s been a good fuck ever since I did the right thing and got into him like my good ol’ Pa did with me when I was a tad.

Only more.

Thinking back, Petey’s always been ticklish right there. His favorite place since childhood baths. He was standing up so I could wash between his cheeks and giggling like an idiot when one of his feet slipped. My soapy finger just went right in – a couple of inches. “Oh Daddy,” he said, “that’s way better than a tickle.”

Finger play became a game between bath nights. When he started to grow and sprang erections, he got the idea that I should join him in the tub him. Pretty soon, he was sitting on me, bopping up and down and playing strangle-the-chicken (a term he had learned in the schoolyard).

It was Petey who put my mind at rest about what we were enjoying. Told me I should join the P.T.A. Dad’s Club. His boy friends’ fathers were collaborating with their sons on advice from teachers and the Superintendent of the Board of Education. Mr. Walker Knox (who, coincidentally, serves on the board of the GGG Home) – and they had regular get-togethers back then as they do today, you know, for discussions and demonstrations. Talked about improved grades, father-son relations, adolescent growth!

Ensconced in each other’s arms, Petey and Max were out of my picture. Focus could shift to picking up from the prep Petey gave expectant Sam.

I’m five-ten and weigh one-seventy-eight, unclothed. My cock…

“Mr. Brown,” a voice broke softly into my reverie, “I’m getting chilled. Don’t you want me?”

“Naturally, Sam, I do. See what’s in my pants?” I outlined the shape.

“Mmm…okay. When?”

“Now’s good.”

He handled the thing with interest. Took me seconds to join him in nakedness. My thought to kiss him was thwarted as I closed the distance between our faces.

“Do you think I look like a parrot?”

“You mean, because of your nose?”

“You do! I knew it.”

Poor thing sounded so pitiful, I turned by head sideways to zero in. Lips to his arched bridge, I ran my mouth along its nostril’s flare and back. Not a kiss from his times with Petey. Something different, even for me.

To a slight intake of air, my palm closed around Sam’s pulsing little sex. “Lean into my shoulder, I’ll support you.” His head’s tilt back let me kiss his mouth while my hand kneaded his wettening excitement.

His closest hand located my sex. He echoed, “I’m still greased.”

“And that means we can and are about to couple. See that sheepskin rug on the floor? Lie down, Sam. It will cushion your back – and feel very good as I pick up where my son left off.”

Susceptible. Accessible. Wriggling in the fleece. Himself barely fleecy. Gazing my way naively.

Over him, I stood astride like the Colossus of Rhodes, alive and showing him my looming scrotum and spit-slicked cock. At their aspect, his knees pivoted and feet lifted. Dead-center: a well-greased button.

Lightweight limbs cushioned heavier ones. The button-shaped opening strained to accept what sought to enter there. Eased by distracting kisses, it became unhinged by force. There was pain: this was part of being impaled by his first grown man. Yet it proved irresistible, a splendid overpowering. My initial thrust brought a groan from Sam, who felt his whole body moving in the same rhythm. It seemed a throbbing circle of pleasure radiated through him from that now-spread-wide orifice.

Mad with ecstasy, it clutched at my unyielding penis – and strangled from its momentary pause a landslide of cascading viscous assets. Excruciating rushes from my scrotum pistoned into the boy’s thrashing pelvis. We reached our summit with a pinnacle of feeling – for each other.

I blushed, realizing I wanted Sam for my lover. His illuminated eyes said as much while he writhed on the remainder of my sex’s presence.

He said, “At the end, we were together, weren’t we?”

“We still are. Sam, you are more special than I had any idea you would be.”

His blush prompted me to move a little – back perhaps an inch, and to return with slow intent.

“Can we have this forever?” he asked, shy like a child.

“We can have it now.” My cock filled completely. I sank it into the voluptuous dream awaiting inside my Sam’s small body. Giddy with sensations of buoyancy, I experienced a feathery continuum of life’s breath until there was no reckoning of time’s passing, only of the flow of love in and around and in again. Love’s pace made itself known only when lubed friction eroded my sky-borne mirage in favor of rising fanfares of orgasm.

The last things I saw were my extended cock probing, withdrawing, plunging, and ramming, and Sam’s beatific expression spreading like a never-seen horizon – our unity transfusing bodily phenomena back to celestial experience. Suspended again where frisson need never cease, we lingered, every cell quivering before sleep caught us in its drift.

* * * *

Long after fatigue left and rest let consciousness return, we got off the bed, straightened its covers, went for a shower, dried ourselves, drank fresh lemonade, looked at each other, and started to speak. At the same moment.

“Sorry.”                                                                        

“No, no. You go first.”

“What do you suppose…”

“…Max and Petey are doing?”

“You finished my question.”

“I was thinking the same. It’s going to be that way for us.”

“Why, because we’ve mated?”

My naked arms collected, then moved him face forward just above my risen staff. “We are mated.”

Bright as a tack, “I’ll stake my trust on that.”

“On…?”

“…your thrust.”

* * * *

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Knox?”

“Yes, Mr. Kent. Take a seat.”

“What progress are you making with Melvin Twain?

“With his mother’s consent, he’s been shrink-wrapped like a mummy except for his face, his boy parts, and his anal crevice.”

“Willingness to kiss?”

“Mrs. Twain and I work together on that. If I may explain, she uses a small swatter on his parts while I explain how he is to open his lips. He really hates being swatted. She says she’ll stop when he behaves. I lean over, gentle his balls and place my lips to his, making as if to nibble. The second he reacts negatively, she swats him. Her actions are controlled – she’s developed the skill with an older son. When he starts whining again, she reminds him to listen to my instructions. And the swats continue. I explain about opening his mouth and letting my tongue in, and that, when he cooperates, I’ll rub on some salve. He does, until my tongue slides over his to tickle his uvula. He puts up a fuss and gets swatted a longer time – steadily, patiently. He learns he can control her swats by asking for my kisses. A big step. I rape his mouth with my tongue, my lotioned hand playing with him until he gets an erection.”

“Good work, young man. I’m pleased you’re working with us. I notice one thing, though. You describe your progress with Melvin in the present tense. Why is that?”

“Mr. Knox, it’s become a ritual to be re-enacted every time Mrs. Twain brings him in. The boy’s petulant until fully wrapped. He likes seeing himself immobilized and being made to do what he pretends to dislike. He erects sooner, whether because of me or his mother’s swats. We’ve discussed that the time may have come for me to roll him on his face and to begin to skewer him from behind.”

“I approve. I want him opened thoroughly before I step into the breach. Mrs. Twain – Lucinda – and I have decided I’m the man for him. Everything about him, especially his slightly rebellious nature and his ability – thanks to you – to become aroused during discipline, makes him seem appropriate to test for becoming a surrogate son before he mates with me.”

“Sir, that will come as welcome news to Mrs. Throckmorton and her Todd as well as to Mr. Saavedra and his Delfin. They’re chafing for my services.”

“By the way, you’ll be pleased to know that inadvertently, your starting work with Petey Brown and Sam Goody have reaped benefits.”

“Oh?”

“Those boys are now mated to each other’s fathers. The men, in gratitude, have underwritten a bonus to your salary.”

“Thank you for the news! My lover will fuck me to kingdom come when I tell him.”

* * * *

NOTICE

The Generation Gap Group Home

is pleased to announce a new course

ADVANCED ANAL INTERCOURSE

FOR EMOTIONAL STABILITY

Clarkson Kent, instructor

Peter Brown & Sam Goody, assistant instructors

AVOID DISAPPOINTMENT: DADS & SONS REGISTER EARLY

By registering your approval of this story, you assure (or dissuade) the further appearance here on Gaydemon of work for your pleasure by my own earnest self. GENERATION GAP numbers eightieth in my output for you. Want to read another story which you may have overlooked, read Tender bits here. Highly approved yet little read, it tells of a whole life focused on sex. Crave lots of anality? – my novel abounds in that on Amazon.