My first experience. Getting used.

He was an older boy from the neighborhood. A little rough, a bit of a bully. Somehow, I found myself alone with him out between some houses. When he made lewd advances, I didn't resist that much, maybe out of fear. Maybe I was curious, maybe I was horny. Somehow, I found myself on my knees in front of him. He had taken out his cock. I remember how my eyes seemed glued to it. How it swung as he moved. Somehow, it was arrousing.

I remember him taking his cock by the base and shaking it at me. I remember his thick, dark, dense mound of pubic hair. His other hand on the back of my head, moving me ever closer. He rubbed it on my face, he slapped me with it. His cock felt soft, but firm as he rubbed it on my lips. His words, his orders rang out. I remember his gasp when I opened my mouth and took it in. How quickly it swelled and became hard, rock hard. I struggled to take more of it as he pulled me closer. The tip pressing against the back of my throat, gagging me as he face fucked my mouth. "Suck that dick, you fucking fag."

I remember his grunts. Holding my face close, he quickly stroked himself and released thick, heavy streams of white, hot jizz. I remember the force of them, landing across my face, on my lips and into my mouth. I tried to spit it out and he laughed at me. He laughed at me, on my knees, covered in cum.

I couldn't get the taste out of my mouth. As much as I tried to wipe myself off, I couldn't get the feeling of his cum off of me. I felt still on me, marking me. The scent of it, the odd taste of it, the even odder allure of it. Days later, it was still all I could think about. Why did I want that experience again?

So bold, I actually went to his house. I knew what that meant. I knew it was admitting that I, somehow, some way, wanted more. He laughed when he opened the door. Of course, he knew what that meant, too. As chance would have it, no one else was home and he invited me in.

"Get your clothes off," I felt a rush and did as he said. I felt his eyes wash over me. I could sense his lust, of maybe just his urges, building. I stood there naked in front of him. Embarrashed, embarrashed by my own urges. "Suck my dick, you fag!" I couldn't say a word. I couldn't resist. It was, afterall, exactly why I had come over. His pants fell to the floor as his hands on my shoulders forced me down. Cock just inches from my face, I parted my lips, sucked him and felt it grow. I sucked him, hoping for, wanting tnat same expeience. The feeling of his cum, of being used. He had other plans, however.

"Lay down, faggot!" I remember trying to hide my erection and layed down on my stomach. He knealed down and straddled me. His hands pulling apart my ass cheeks. My whole world was spinning. I guess I had thought about it, even touched myself, but nothing
prepared me for it. Feeling him spit on me, feeling his wet saliva on my asshole. Then, feeling the tip of his hard dick. He pushed himself inside me. So hard, so deep, then he began to slam into me, pounding me, fucking my ass. His grunts, the slapping sound, the feeling of his hard dick punishing me, fucking me, using me.

I felt him begin to shake on top of me and his cock pulse inside me. He held still, his cock inside me to his balls and released his load.