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Jeep Vignettes: 136 Introduction
A vignette, as used here, is a short descriptive scene, less about plot and story than focusing on an impression, a moment in time. Meaning is evoked through imagery and the interaction of characters and setting. A vignette is NOT flash fiction.
Jeep Vignettes derive from three vignettes written by `Susan,” and submitted to the Nifty Archive in 2003. They chronicled `David” (me) and her son, `Kelly,” in surprisingly true-to-life situations. Susan”s vignettes may be found here:
As Susan wrote in 2003:
“… These vignettes are but glimpses, brief sketches that capture the spirit of their love. Each vignette is a little fuzzy on the edges because that”s how I want it. And finally, they”re not presented in sequential order for the same reason.”
Jeep Vignettes record significant moments for Luke and me, his grandpa (aka G and Jeep, for GP), beginning when he starts to realize he”s not like other boys. Unfortunately, Nifty”s policy (Author”s checklist 7: Story does not involve adults with infants, toddlers, children younger than 9) prohibits the publication of Jeep Vignettes 1-thru-135. Also, the Ship”s Log entries are NOT written by Luke, because that would violate Author Checklist 6.
Jeep Vignettes are dedicated to a frustrated, yet discriminating reader of Susan”s vignettes. After reading the first three vignettes, at great personal risk and expense, he sought continued satisfaction, even hiring a private investigator. Eventually, a fourth vignette appeared in the Nifty Archive in 2014. Six years later, the still-frustrated, yet discriminating reader imbibes homemade mango liqueur to excess, often in the company of cute Cuban salsa boys, and occasionally hot-blooded Cajun boys.
Rules of Engagement (Susan”s 2003 rules of engagement):
1. No kids allowed. There”s Dr. Seuss for you.
2. It isn”t cheap porn, it”s literature. If you want the other, go somewhere else.
3. If you live in a backward, repressive state that doesn”t allow you to read the things you want, pack up and leave.
4. It”s copyrighted.
5. If we can”t agree that love occurs regardless of age and gender, put this down and get a life.
6. Support Nifty. Give generously.
Notice to readers
After forwarding Vignette 165 to the Nifty Archive, I have been inundated with emails, 27 at last count. Rest assured that 100% of your tax-deductible donations will be used to support the Archive. When you send your donation, please add a note of thanks to the Archivist. Without him, there would be no Nifty. Also, if you request contact with the author, please do not share the email address your receive.
Most emails conveyed heartfelt thanks/appreciation, recounted personal experiences, or asked questions about `Seawalker,” or `Luke.” I regret I cannot answer every email, especially those requesting personal information, or those sent by younger readers (like AJ and Tristan). Of the dozen emails I did respond to, Dr. Franken”s email stood out. It is included at the end of this vignette. Dr. Franken is, of course, a pseudonym. He requested one of the earlier vignettes, when Luke was developing his oral skills. So, without further ado…
Vignette 136: Grandpa”s Summer Camp 2018, Day 26
S/V Seawalker Log Entry
After breakfast we motored out of Royal Island Harbor. I was in the bow pointing out rocks at the entrance. We came really close only it was safe until I missed a coral head, but it turned out okay because he saw it. It was no wind no sails day, so we motored across to Eleuthra on the far side. Seven miles and I was bare all the way 🙂 I am really tanned all over. When we got to Current Cut it was before the tide changed so we had to wait. We dropped the anchor away from the other boats. I did SC to G while we waited only I had to stop when we motored into the cut. The water was already moving really fast. The rock walls were very close so it was scary. On the other side we went around the sandbars so it was shallow.
There was no boats the whole way to Hatchett Bay so G got naked too. I did SC again only this time I got all of it. The way in is like a hole in the wall like between two buildings. We went very slow. We could have tied to a mooring ball but G wanted to be where people couldn”t see us. We swam and went ashore. We walked all over even to the ocean side. When we got back I fell asleep about a minute after G said he will always love me.
What a way to wake up! Naked wrestle-fest in bed until we had to pee. With his arms and legs wrapped around my middle, Luke made me lug all 64 pounds of squirmy boat brat into the head. I dumped him unceremoniously, yet carefully.
“You hold mine first,” he demanded.
I considered myself both lucky and honored, even though I was seconds from desperation�his limp little dick squirted an endless thin stream.
“Hurry the Hell up!”
“I don”t have a monster hose like you.” Snickering between giggles. “I”m going as fast as I can.”
“It”s barely a trickle.”
“Only because you”re holding it too tight.”
It must have been near half a gallon before he stopped. Of course, he reciprocated. Mine dribbled, stopped, restarted. His rubbing didn”t help. I was still erect when we finished brushing our teeth. I expected to carry him back to bed; however, he had other plans.
“Um Jeep… Please…” He avoided my eyes as he muttered, “Suck cock?”
Pointed, expressive, unavoidable. Oral sex wasn”t new to this nine-year-old, in fact, entirely expected; an undeniable admission of his sexuality each time he uttered two simple words.
“You want to do it in the shower again?” Hoping I didn”t sound too eager.
Uncertain nod, still averting his gaze. I sensed something lurking; not embarrassment; he was far beyond that. Repetition brought reassurance, boosting his self-esteem, defining him, growing stronger, spontaneous. However, this wasn”t a whim of the moment.
Sometimes, I teased him. Sometimes, what he wanted made him hungry, anxious, irritable. This time he was serious.
“Gay boys need cock on a regular basis, huh?” Getting him admit was crucial.
He”d had the talk from both me and his mother; a gay boy”s urge was demanding, nothing to be ashamed about. His response, a shy smile, the submissive little boy for whom cock socking came easily, and often. No wonder he stared at his prize, unwavering eyes revealing a need so powerful he was unable to stop himself.
I mussed up his bed-head, wavy, sun-and sea-bleached, almost too long for a boy.
“Whenever you”re ready, he”s waiting.”
“Can you shave first, Jeep?” Giggling he pointed. “Down there!”
“How much down there?”
Gleeful became gorgeous as he considered it. “Just around him, so I can lick farther down.”
In two weeks, shaving my shaft was as far as he dared venture. It was a good job for a cabin boy; so far, no nicks.
“From now on, how much you shave is up to you.” After saying it, I wondered if leaving it up to him was going too far.
Still, I rummaged through the cabinet, toothpaste, soap, shampoo, dental floss, toilet bowel cleaner, a lighter-than-I remember can of Gillette Fusion, two hairbrushes that had seen better days… finally my safety razor. I inserted a fresh blade and placed it on the vanity; then a stern look at him.
“My shaving gel is almost gone.”
He met me with his `don”t blame me” look. “But Jeep, remember; you said to use it to make slime.” (link to Youtube)
I remembered. It was impossible to forget that rainy-afternoon activity. Great fun for a bored kid, mixing up clear Elmers glue, shaving gel, and food dye; and not nearly as messy as I expected. He made a flesh-light for Gay Sex Camp! Used it, too, mostly on me. With an erection as small as his, he couldn”t do much beyond getting the head inside.
“Just don”t tell your mom.”
“She said even though I”m a bottom, I should still know what pussy feels like.”
Trying hard not to laugh, I stepped into the tiny shower. He followed eagerly, shaking the can like he was mixing spray paint. Even without hanky-panky, it was a squeeze to fit both of us in the shower, yet he managed to scrunch himself against the wall and kneel before me. He smirked up at me and gestured impatiently�he wanted my hands out of the way. Between squirting and smearing, the pint-sized control-freak slathered my groin and lower belly with cream before he stopped. Armed with my razor, he leered up, evil nine-year-old gay boy about to denude his grandfather”s groin.
“Ready, Jeep?” Exaggerated and taking a breath as he inspected the blade�evil wasn”t malicious, just playful.
“Be careful.” Wasted words, he was a gentle sweet kid intent on having fun at my expense.
A sly knowing smirk and he grasped my slippery penis with his free hand, a tormenting squeeze before he changed his mind.
“You better hold your boy-toy out of the way. I might need both hands for this.”
That `boy-toy” was Boat Brat”s favorite plaything. He”d handled my razor often enough that I didn”t panic. He started with deft little strokes, working his way around the bottom third of my penis; then, carefully drawing the blade onto my scrotum, scraping away soapy gel. Satisfied, he looked up again, hand extended. I took the proffered razor and rinsed off accumulated sludge.
With his hand held up, he wasn”t done with the razor. He squirted more gel.
“Like whipped cream with a cherry on top, Jeep.”
After guffawing his pretty head off, he started on the junction of penis and pubis; he left it hairless.
He inspected his handiwork. “You like how he looks, Jeep? He”s kinda like mine now, huh?”
“You want the little-boy look, keep shaving Lukey.” Don”t know why I said that; did I want to look young again?
“Say bye bye to your poobic hairs, Jeepster.”
More guffawing, getting high on hilarious, squirting shaving gel until I took it away.
“You need to get a razor like what old-fashioned barbers use.”
“No way you”re using a straight-edge on my dick. One slip, you”d cut it off.”
He grasped my cock and a ball, wielding the safety razor like a barber stropping. It was definitely weird, exciting, too. Maybe it was Luke”s rough handling and childish glee; maybe it was knowing a little gay boy was utterly entranced; whatever the cause, my penis grew before our eyes. Swelling, lifting up, darkening, all of it for him, niğde escort because of him. It thrilled me deep down.
Infatuated him for sure; mesmerized was a strong possibility given how he kept staring. Something important was going on inside his ragamuffin head. Whatever it was, there was no hesitation as he smeared excess foam over my groin, one slow decisive stroke, away from my now-erect penis, across my pubis, leaving a bald swathe behind. Then, another.
He glanced up, suddenly nervous, likely worrying that he”d gone too far.
“Keep going, Gorgeous. As much as you want,” I murmured.
“You”re sure it”s okay, right?”
I nodded and he made a third long slow stroke, headed to my belly button. More strokes followed, returning to where he”d already shaved, scraping off streaks of foam, the razor going in different directions. He was intent on removing every last strand before he stopped for me to rinse off the blade.
He inspected in silence while I picked curly fur from the razor, little fingers caressing bald bare skin, avoiding my penis. Fully engorged, it wavered before his face, still potent and powerful despite what he”d done to the surrounding area. Seeing his small hands and his curious exploration was unsettling, yet the rest of me felt strangely rejuvenated.
“My little gay boy did an awesome job.”
“Can I do the rest so I can lick all over?”
It wasn”t that big a step, not when I”d been licking and sucking him `all over” for a year.
“Let”s save the rest for another day.”
“You can”t let it grow back during summer camp, okay.” Telling, not asking.
I hooked his armpits and boosted him up from the shower floor. Little arms and legs wrapped around me as I turned on the shower wand. He rested his head on my shoulder, Li”l Luke poking around near my bellybutton. After a moment for hot water to pump from the heater, I began to rinse him off, enough water running down between us to rinse me, too. He liked me clasping his buttocks with my fingertips marauding his crevice, getting him used to the inevitable. As usual, he wriggled his pelvis hopefully.
“Want what you do, little Padawan.” I used my Obi-wan voice, teasing a gay boy was fun when he was needy, all sexed up.
“Go inside, Master.”
Soapy finger, slowly rubbing, going around and around his puckered boy-anus. He concentrated on unsettling sensations, steady deep breathing, relaxing. Inserting to the first joint brought a giggle, then, seriously dreamy with his eyes closed to slits. No invasion, it was all about sharing and bonding, pure unadulterated pleasure.
“You”re such a little homo,” I crooned in his ear. “You like really my finger in here, don”t you?”
He nodded, no hesitation. “It feels nice.”
His tone said otherwise; it didn”t just feel nice; it felt great. The slightest pressure against moist tender flesh, dabbling, tickling, reassuring, stimulating the desire for penetration.
“I wish it was your cock up there,” he muttered.
`Up there” was essential to being gay; he knew it, I knew it, and so did his mother.
Around 9:15 am, with his belly full of fruit salad and yesterday”s homemade bread, Luke bounded up the stairs. The two nearest boats had already departed the anchorage, one turning for Spanish Wells, the other heading across the bank toward Eleuthera. I started the engine and turned on the chart-plotter and depth-sounder, and called to him in his self-assigned seat in the bow.
“You remember the eight anchor signals?”
He went through them fast, calling them off as he flung out his arms. Forward. Stop. Slow, Port and starboard, both normal and panic modes. Reverse.
“You”ll be lookout, too, so pay attention.” As if he needed reminding!
Raising the anchor proceeded without hitch. My little cabin boy was also a mostly competent first mate. I skirted the rock at the entrance, hugging the headland on the port side to avoid a coral outcropping.
Luke stopped looking for starfish long enough to point at a dull brownish shape.
“Yo, Captain Hairless, there be coral.”
We passed it forty feet away, too close for comfort�I”d deliberately cut it close.
“No sea cock for you tonight, Matey,” I called back.
He realized “no sucking cock”; fleeting dismay until I grinned�lesson learned. Still, he sulked, wandering around the boat, checking `things”, the same as he”d seen me do.
I set the course on the chart plotter and engaged the autopilot. Our next waypoint was seven nautical miles, 158 degrees; Current Cut. It split a peninsula, Current Island and Eleuthera, channeling the tidal flow from a vast shoaling bank, most of it unmarked on the chart.
With no need to hurry, I adjusted the throttle to 1,500 rpm, a fast idle, slower than cruising speed. When I looked up, Luke was sitting in the cockpit, only a skimpy dive-team Speedo separating modesty and indecency.
“About two hours, huh?”
I scratched my chin, impressed. He”d looked at the chart book during breakfast, figured out the distance, and estimated our speed.
I glanced around to be certain, nodded. He got naked in two seconds flat, draped his miniature Speedo over the compass, and showed me. Full frontal, partial stiffy, so small he might”ve been neutered. Shameless gay boy tempting a boy-loving glutton. Instinct fully functional at nine years old! Nature at work; it was always the same whether dolphins, dogs, or humans.
“Sorry I wasn”t paying attention, Jeep.”
“I get distracted, too, especially when you”re running around naked.” I gave him the `serious look.”
He was still smiling when he lay on the sunny-side cockpit seat, ready for me to apply Hawaiian Tropic, SPF close-to-zero. Rubbing his arms, shoulders, back, buttocks; reaching between slender thighs, squirting Tropic, making his sex parts extra oily. Five minutes of fun to end up with a shiny slippery boy, lustrous sheen, smooth sleek skin.
After fun came two hot hours of talking about super heroes, pirates, Spanish Wells settlers, hurricanes, what do gay girls do for sex…
“So gay girls suck each other”s pussies, huh?”
“Remember when we talked about gay boys needing cock? Your mom said lesbians need pussy the same way.”
He was tanning his front, sprawled on the aft deck, one arm bent to support his head, his foot braced on a stanchion, a hand in front to hide his stiff little penis. It was all about tempting me.
“Kind of boring,” he snickered, likely picturing hairy vaginas�his mom was his only experience. “She said girls use their fingers to masturbate, only not the same as we do it.”
I wasn”t ready to start the clitoris conversation, even less interested in lesbians using dildos to replace men they despised.
“The principle”s the same. Like me rubbing your butt hole, except pussy smells like sardines.”
No gay nine-year-old needed to know about imaginary G-spots, not when he had his own infinitely more pleasurable prostate gland. He knew it made anal intercourse mutually satisfying, which was appropriate information as far as I was concerned.
“It”s way better when you put your finger inside me,” he said seriously.
I mimicked him, “Oooh. It”s sooo awesome, Jeeeep.”
He had yet to experience an anal orgasm. He already knew what was involved, how good the sensations could be leading up to it, so it wouldn”t be much longer�it was one of those things his mom had scheduled for summer camp.
“I don”t sound anything like that…”
“Please don”t stop. Pleeease.”
He pretend-grimaced and made a fist, shaking it impotently. I gestured for him to come closer, He flipped his middle finger. Mouthed `mother fucker”. It was really amusing. Then, he switched to serious-Luke.
“Mom said a man will put his cock up there when I”m older.” He fixed me with his `I know she means you” stare.
“Just be glad you”re a boy and not a lesbian. You can have orgasms front and rear, real ones.”
He was still reflecting when I stood up, plucking his Speedo from the compass, tossing it at his middle.
I looked around as Luke clambered back into the cockpit. Five anchored boats clustered left of the entrance to Current Cut, keeping a safe distance from the out-rushing water. I veered east, using the binoculars to scope out our distant neighbors, before dropping the anchor in 10 feet of water.
“We”re still an hour early,” I explained.
He was on it instantly, giving me a sheepish look, not reluctant, still shy about asking. “Suck you?”
A reassuring smile and I sat in the shade, thinking about how to deal with chronic shyness. He unfastened the cord of my swim shorts, made me lift up while he tugged them past my knees, shoved them down to my ankles. Nothing shy about him as he pushed my thighs apart, staring. Not sheepish, or reluctant, or ashamed; trying to decide how he wanted to do it. A creature of habit, he curled up on the seat beside me, his head on my thigh, cupping his hand under my scrotum, sweaty hot, and utterly hairless. His thumb stroked the shaft, rubbed my leaking glans against his forehead, anointing himself with preseminal fluid.
“When you and me do butt sex… are you going to squirt inside me?”
“That”s where it”s supposed to go,” I said calmly.
His question was momentous, not earth-shattering, crucial. Awareness of what it meant for a boy to be homosexual; carrying his man”s semen inside him.
“It”s messy otherwise.” I hugged him, tickling his ear, leaning close. “The first time is really special, an initiation. When part of me remains inside you after we make love, we”ll always remember. Every time after will remind us.”
He nodded, expertly extracting more slimy juice, daubing his forehead. There were smears on his cheeks.
“What if it goes in my mouth? I mean all of it, and I swallow.”
He was used to samples, licked from his fingers or mine, increasingly sucked from the source, squeezing out the final few droplets after ejaculation. Neutral taste, bland texture, uniquely male; just not enough to be meaningful.
“It goes down your throat and into your tummy.”
He thought about it while he tried nişantaşı escort putting the tip of my penis inside his right nostril. Cock snorting until giggles took over.
I lowered my voice, spy-level. “The thing about a man”s cum is it”s addictive, especially for a gay boy.”
He whispered back, “Like taking drugs?”
“Well… it”s kinda like pot; a few hits won”t hurt you. However, after the first time, you”ll want to do it again. Soon, you”ll want more and more. That”s why gay guys do it a lot.”
Suddenly, he sat up, fascinated. “Mom wouldn”t want me getting stoned.”
Out of left field, or was I reading into it? Had his mother given him the `swallow it” talk?
“Cum isn”t like that, Lukey. Having it in your tummy is nice. You feel good, sort of glowing all over.”
“Because part of you is inside me.” He cogitated on that for a while. “Can I try, Jeep?”
We rearranged, me sitting with my back against the cabin side, legs outstretched, one on the seat, the other lifted and hooked over the cockpit coaming. Luke knelt, face hovering over my crotch, dribbling saliva as he licked along my erection.
“You like doing that, don”t you?” I whispered.
He nodded, not interrupting, not even slowing. All gay boys liked `cock”; Luke adored it. Increasingly bold, until he couldn”t stop himself, he lifted the shaft, guiding my plump crimson glans to his mouth. Awkward for a moment, the angle was wrong, he wasn”t close enough; he squirmed, nudging my leg outward.
He kissed, not tentatively, deliberately wet as he expelled saliva, bringing his lips forward and around, enclosing. He looked up, his cheeks concaving, sucking, tasting. His primal submissive act witnessed, not for the first time. Familiar smile; he was accepted no matter what he did. Eyes bright, shameless, feeling his urge accelerate.
Content, his eyes closed. Dreamy boy, lost in homosexual hedonism, seeking pleasure essential for his well-being. Suckling rhythmically until his jaw ached. His neck muscles took over. He bobbed, an inch, nearly two sometimes. Slow, faster, erratically, quick jerks as if to match his heart, slow pushes with each breath.
I fondled his hair, wavy, knotty, soft as silk if it wasn”t for sea salt.
We motored into the narrow rock-faced channel, a couple of knots faster than the current to maintain steerage. It was already surging only minutes after the tide changed, a brisk four knots. Veering to port as we passed the government dock; then a hard turn to starboard, wide open throttle to get out of the current, shallows and grass bars looming ahead. There were rocks on one side and sandbars on the other for the mile it took to reach the next waypoint.
After unfurling and adjusting the sails for fluky wind, I glanced around. A center-console boat drifted on the flats, likely fly-fishing for bonefish; a sailboat on a diverging heading, likely to Gregory Town; both were too far away to see Luke divesting, stretching, getting ready for his morning exercise by dancing in the cockpit.
Between admiring glances, I entered the heading to Hatchett Bay, sixteen-plus nautical miles to the east. Then, I cranked up the volume on Sirius Radio, sat back, and watched Luke `Timberlake” lip-syncing to Can”t Stop the Feeling!
No dance instruction except from his mother, and lots of practice in front of his mirror. Cavorting nude, gay-languid and cool, very cool. No inhibition; his version of the `Feeling” was erotic. Like most gay boys, he was body aware, his movements increasingly urgent, primal, raw, blatantly sexual. Awareness came easily, almost too easily, orally, genitally, anally.
“Get naked, too Jeep.” His voice was unnaturally husky, assertive.
Instead, I beckoned him closer. Within arm”s reach, I gorged on his gyrating abdomen, taut belly with beads of sweat like diamonds on glistening tanned skin, narrow diver”s pelvis, little boy parts bouncing. Beyond tempting, I needed him, wanted him. I hungered to love him, properly bugger him; however, that would come later; first, he had unfinished business with my penis.
I caught his wrists, pulling each in turn, rhythmically rotating his torso until he took control, humping his middle into my face. I licked, slathering saliva on his brown wiry body, slick with sweat and Hawaiian Tropic, shameless, sensuous, intensely serious. I clasped rubbery buttocks as his hands clamped my head. I leaned down as he went to tiptoes. I devoured his dick, both teensy balls, lips jammed up against his soft pubis-pad, inhaling coconut, absorbing boy-fragrance.
“Can I, please? Jeep, please…” Luke”s murmur brought me back from nirvana.
Reluctantly releasing his precious boy-parts, licking my lips; savoring a taste denied by an impoverished modern morality.
“Suck cock,” I offered, only what he was still hesitant to ask for.
Needy boy nodded, nervous, desperate, longing in his unsteady gaze. He blinked.
“I can”t help it, Jeep,” he whispered, nearly whining. “I want you… I want him so bad I can”t stand it.”
Was it wrong to unleash lust in such a young boy? Of course, gayness had been there all along; it just required nurturing, awakening, and enough time to blossom.
He gazed across turquoise water and whitened sandbars. The world was tranquil yet desolate, still swaying his hips, mocking pelvic thrusts, inflaming desire, building up to the Feeling, mostly rubbing his erection against my face.
“Mom said it was okay,” he appended, disturbing indifference.
His open-minded mom subscribed to the approach, `his having sex is inevitable, so the sooner the better.”
I shoved down my swim shorts and pulled him onto me. Slow motion dancing until he was subdued in my embrace, wet hot kisses on his forehead and nose, licking his lips until his tongue poked out. I sucked, clasping his head from behind, brushing back bleached-blond hair. Provoking, stirring until his urge became urgent. A rush of adrenaline had Li”l Luke hard and throbbing before I touched, tormenting his tender tip, scrunching balls below.
Secure in my arms, Luke whimpered, snuggled, a little gay vampire chewing on my neck. After the first love-bite, I lay back on the seat, maneuvering him, no worse than a heavy sail bag. He ended with his head and tail placed precisely, my cock in front of his face, his tail-end exposed. With unfettered access, I fingered his ass, balls, and in-between, all slathered with Tropic, primarily testing pucker elasticity.
He smooched slavishly; boy-slobber all over my helmet, dribbles down the shaft. Time was the essence of boy love, no rush to the finish. Exploring, enjoying, always teasing�his muted giggles were reassuring. Being already familiar didn”t mean taking anything for granted�I treasured each caress, his and mine.
“Sleepy, Jeepy,” he murmured.
His head rested on my thigh, the rest of him slumped over my front, thighs either side of my head. We were both hot and sweaty, drained of energy, not desire. Actual sucking had ceased, now an excuse for delicate skin to become thoroughly acquainted with inquisitive fingers, tantalizing lips, and especially his luscious tongue.
He was so relaxed that my finger easily penetrated his juvenile sphincter, still tight, yet able to push in and pull out through oily hot tissue. Sometimes, he twitched, inhaled sharply, enough that I minimized re-entry. Instead, with his sphincter gripping firmly, I felt around until only one thing remained unexplored, not untouched.
Again and again, I probed beyond his sphincter, barely into his rectum, pressing into the root of his penis. His nub was years from maturity, tiny, tender, a bump about the size of a flattened chick-pea. I could tell he enjoyed the sensation, my finger like a little cock, not merely embedded in his rectum. It aroused awareness, the unique physiological response that made a boy prefer his own gender. Sexuality integrated mind and body�his mother was right; this was right for him, and me, too.
“Do it up there…” His `Please, Jeep,” was an afterthought.
He wanted more, the next step inevitable.
“One, two, cha cha cha…” I patted his butt, baby slaps. “Takes two to tango, Lukey.”
With four miles to go, it was past lunchtime. However, he wasn”t hungry, not for peanut butter and jelly. Renewed, he sucked side-on, his tongue surprisingly talented as he focused on the groove under my glans, his teeth all but scraping the rim. No matter, it was still arousing, my helmet swelling, the shaft thickening, extending. Making me erect motivated him to straddle my belly, man-boy `69″.
Positioned like that, with his groin on my chest, placed his mouth where it needed to be. From behind, I teased his prostate, index finger hooked inside his rectum, the tip touching his core, pressing very gently.
“This the place you want tickled?”
He clenched on my finger, horny nine-year-old boy. He sucked harder, took more inside, started bobbing. I hadn”t taught him to nose-breath, yet; instinctive, I guess.
“You”re my little gay boy,” I crooned to encourage. “I bet you”re the best cock sucker in all the Bahamas.”
He sucked even harder to prove it. I played in his ass, not too hard. He wasn”t ready to be finger-fucked; maybe in a few days. For now, I concentrated on the guy-gland, strumming, sending vibrations down his spine, through his bladder, into his core.
“You know, Lukey… when Zeus made love to Ganymede…” I leaned to kiss his buttocks. “… his cock touched right here.”
He lifted off momentarily, his face glowing, breathless. “My Ganymede Spot, huh?”
The real G-spot, no fake female `Goddess Spot”. Properly trained, it was enough for a boy to be a bottom for life.
He settled in for the duration, a cock-sucking machine, slow down, up, pause, flicking and swirling his tongue, repeat. When his neck or jaws tired, he massaged my balls. Each time, I pressed into his tender spot. Suddenly, I sensed ejaculation was imminent.
Gasping, straining up, balls tightly knotted. There was a change in him, too; his sucking more urgent, less controlled. He didn”t jerk away. Instead, he shuddered, gulping my semen, squirming as his little pelvis bucked, fucking himself on my finger.
After that, the rest of the day was dull.
Fan Email From: Dr. ankara olgun escort Ernst Frankel
06/03/2020 (10 hours ago)
An academic friend, whose name you withheld when you published his fan mail with your recent Jeep Vignettes 165 on the Nifty story site, provided your address. He did so in support of my ongoing research at the Hellenic Institute, in Berlin. In many respects, your writing is closely allied to its goals and objectives. It is with this in mind, and the potential for collaborative research, that I write to you.
To begin, I would like to introduce the Hellenic Institute (HI), and my contribution.
We live in an insolvent so-called-progressive society, subjugated by a corrupt moral system. Our essential humanity is disappearing, replaced by intellectually deprived servants, easily controlled and dependent on their masters. Without renewed purpose and direction, humanity is lost. Self-actualization, deemed vital by Maslow to human achievement and satisfaction, is sorely missing in today”s young males. The reason; a moral code that denies fulfillment of another need, sexuality. My contribution to HI is identifying specific sexual problems and solutions.
In that regard, HI identifies four primary themes underlying modern morality and sexuality. Briefly summarized in our strategic plan as copied below [citations included], these are:
1. Judeo-Christian Beliefs gave rise to monotheism, stressing sex for procreation only and service to religion institutions. [1, 2] Beginning in Genesis (the Garden of Eden), human sexuality is punished, never celebrated. [2, 3, 4] The Virgin Mary perpetuates the idiocy. The same religions instituted racism of the worst possible kind (God”s Chosen People), and enabled the desecration of nature [2, 4, 5].
2. Victorian Attitudes and the British Empire, extended Christian shame and guilt about sexuality throughout humanity . The so-called emancipation of the child imbued children with innocence until `adulthood.” Denial of youthful sexuality is an entirely unnatural situation which is responsible for many of society”s ills [7, 8].
3. American hegemony. The morality of early settlers (Spanish Catholics, Puritans, and others) created a culture of exploitation, sexual discrimination, and moral deprivation that remains to this day [9,10]. Foreign trade and media expanded Americanism to the rest of the world, dominating some cultures, and greatly influencing the rest.
4. Women”s Liberation diminished male dominance of society, and in doing so, eliminated masculinity, directly resulting in intellectual oppression and control [11, 12. 13, 14].
HI is concerned with the ability of humanity to return to its natural state, empowered by intellect . The Hellenic Institute believes Ancient Greece epitomizes this state, as do some other cultures less afflicted by the four factors above. For example, Buddhism, Shinto, and Confucianism provide very different moral codes . Burton”s classic work on the Sotadic Zone gives further impetus to the moral-sexual dilemma of western society. One need only to look at the Japanese Samurai for a highly effective integration of sexuality and moral code. Bushido inculcates honor, respect, justice, courage, mercy, and so on�virtues fundamental to pederastic relationships.
The practice of pederasty wasn”t just popular in Ancient Greece, it was the basis of the culture [12, 13]. The word `pederasty” means `the love of boys,” yet today”s scholars assure us that the youngest partner was mid-to-late teen, and his mate was typically only a few years older [12, 14]. Further, anal intercourse was seldom practiced [14, 16, 17, 18], and most people considered the relationship shameful. Nothing could be farther from the truth. [17, 19]
In Ancient Greece; a prepubescent boy (aged 10-12) [12, 14] had a partner several generations older [12, 14,]; anal sex was not only inevitable, but essential [15, 17]; and enabling parents who understood such a relationship was enduring and highly beneficial to both man and boy[20, 21].
Your Jeep Vignettes are startling, not only in the high degree of realism, but in their accurate portrayal of man-boy love. Upon reading just two of your Jeep Vignettes, my research team expressed strong enthusiasm to undertake a case study based upon the rest, from 1 to 165, and beyond. If you are interested, please let me know and I will have one of our doctoral students contact you directly.
Next, I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to develop a research agenda with you, with the goal of extending our findings through personal experiences. For example, our research library contains a large amount of media about man-boy relationships. Penetrative intercourse, both oral and anal, is a crucial component. Any number of videos illustrate a boy in the throes of orgasm, writhing and gasping as his man”s penis stimulates his prostate gland. His expression is rapt as he groans and whimpers, and mutters encouragement and endearment to his much older dominant partner. As useful as that is to confirm a high level of enjoyment and pleasure, it falls short of conveying what a boy feels, his emotion, his passion, and satisfaction, in some cases truly sublime. A hidden camera, for example, recording an intimate session with Luke would go a long way to understanding how a boy responds in an authentic and loving relationship.
By now you will understand that our interest proceeds far beyond the sexual. We know from interviews of 108 prepubescent boys that they experience a prolonged and heightened sense of belonging and self-esteem from intercourse with adult males. Post-coital interactions take on greater intensity, learning advances in leaps and bounds, and creative and critical thinking dominate. Both men and boys `actualize,” both self and mutually. We believe this is why the 40,000 free male citizens of the small city state of Athens were able to achieve so much in a few hundred years.
Although our mutual friend tells me that you have explained some things for him, he couldn”t answer my questions�I had to write directly to you. I hope I can be frank.
Unlike my friend, I”m not interested in Luke”s mother, although as an enabling parent, she would make a good study subject for undergraduate research. My hope is to gain access to Luke directly and thereby circumvent such artistic license you might employ as a writer. I entreat your assistance, realizing my interest is entirely academic (cf. my attached CV).
With your ability to set forth young male behavior in relationship to mature men, you must want greater knowledge and understanding for yourself. If you think beyond what your characters and their behaviors express, to my qualifications as a scholar of psychosexuality, you will see the advantage of a deeply probing investigation by a seasoned professional, entirely private and held in the strictest confidence. While the type of investigation I envision must be sacrosanct, I am both able and eager to share the generalities of what I learn.
The investigation would be accomplished in three medically ethical sessions at the Hellenic Institute in Berlin. While only three days are required, you should count on a full week, with all expenses paid. My invitation extends to you and Luke”s mother, with Luke unaccompanied in the first two sessions so that he is able to speak and act freely.
A preliminary meeting to set him at ease on my soft-padded, Italian gray-leather couch, Schubert”s String Quintet in C (Adagio) playing softly in the background. I mention this not in passing, but deliberately. A young gay boy responds well to aesthetics, tradition, and high culture With thoughtful music, he will reflect and relax as I prepare him for what lies ahead, mentally, that is.
The territory for investigation should be entirely comprehensible, using photos and videos from our library to encourage discussion of various sexual themes. He will be freed of any lingering, subconscious inhibitions and will leave with all necessary ideas for cooperation during our second session.
This should take place the next day. My investigatory time with Luke will begin by uncovering the sources of his forthright nature, of his uncommon ability to turn sharp phrases bantering with his grandfather and partner. In particular, I will explore his unselfconscious recognition and pride of being homosexual. This will pre-date his `coming out,” in all likelihood revealing previously innocent activities as fundamental mileposts. Your earlier vignettes will be particularly helpful as a record of his development as a young gay boy.
With that knowledge, hypnosis can uncover past history otherwise forgotten or set aside; for example, what he heard in Health class, his confidences with other school boys, archetypal determinants in his path to homosexuality. Incidentally, at HI, we believe man-boy relationships are deeply ingrained from prehistoric times Accordingly, my approach follows the collective-unconscious model of Karl Jung, not Freud, who offers only ID and EGO for pederastic love.
Along the way, I will uncover much more and endeavor to plant positives that will guide him in his relationship with you, and what might follow when intimacy comes to its end.
Finally, session three will reinforce Luke”s homosexuality and what you and he have achieved together. Ideally, this will occur with both you and his mother present. He will face his future with new confidence, new trust, and a new outlook. I will be successful if you and Luke”s mother look deeply into his eyes and see a vibrant self-actualized boy, cognizant of his sexual potential, and eager for life.
With confidence in your help, I await confirmation of dates for my staff to arrange your travel schedule.
Finally, if I might make a special request for one or more specific vignettes. As you are well aware, penetration presents unequivocal evidence of a boy”s homosexuality, and demonstrates affection, commitment, and deference/respect, which are crucial to his development as the younger partner. With this in mind, Luke”s oral progress represents important milestones. We identify six stages: tentative kisses, licking and wet kisses, shallow insertion, deep insertion, semen sampling, and full ejaculation with ingestion. Your experience with Luke as revealed in any of these pre-164 vignettes would be extremely helpful.
Yours in the name of science,
Dr. Ernst Frankel, Ph.D. (Columbia)
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