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I started messing around with younger boys when I was 13. At first, it was just groping and jerking off, but I eventually graduated to blowing and buttfucking By the time I was 26, I had a routine worked out. I would show the boy who interested me that I had a boner and watch his reaction. If he wasn't repelled, I'd feel him up. If he didn't know how to jerk off already, I'd teach him. For some time, usually several weeks, we groped each other and jerked each other off. Then, one day while we were jerking off together, or jerking each other off, I'd suddenly go down on him and blow him to orgasm. I didn't ask him to do it to me. Rather, we'd go on for several weeks with me blowing him and him jerking me off.. If he offered to blow me, we'd 69 for a few weeks . If he didn't offer to blow me, I'd ask him to let me buttfuck him. I have a fairly long but thin dick, 6 inches long but only about 5/8" thick. Usually, it didn't hurt at all to take it up the ass Most of the boys I buttfucked enjoyed it, those who didn't reacted in various ways. Some avoided me thereafter., some went back to letting me blow them and jerking me off. Some got mad but didn't do anything about it. After all, most boys, back then, didn't dare talk to their parents about the dirty stuff we were doing . Also, I bribed them with candy and cigarettes and took them to the movies. So, I didn't believe that I had anything to worry about. I lived in a third-floor walkup apartment. I kept cool in the summer by sitting around in my undershorts with a couple of electric fans blowing on me and drinking cold beer which I kept in the ice-box in the back hall. I would have all the windows and the back door open. The screen door was held shut by a spring, without any hook or bolt. One sweltering August evening, I went out to the kitchen on my way to the ice-box for a bottle of beer, when the screen door opened, five men in work clothes with bandanna handkerchiefs over their faces, rushed into the kitchen, grabbed me, gagged me, and tied my hands behind by back in less time than it takes to read about it. I never had time to put up a fight or make an outcry. One of the men was wearing a sheathed hunting knife on his belt. He drew it, pulled down my boxer shorts, and grabbed my balls. Then, of course, I started to struggle, but, with four men holding me, I couldn't do much. One quick slash and it was over and he was holding my balls up before my eyes. I fainted. When I came to, the men and my balls were gone. I was lying on the linoleum bleeding but untied, though still gagged. I pulled out the gag and phoned the police. I tried to stanch the bleeding by holding a rolled-up towel tightly between my thighs. I couldn't provide the police with any useful information inasmuch as I couldn't identify any of my assailants. Obviously, I played it dumb about the reason for the attack. I was back from the hospital the next day, neatly sewed up down below. After a few days of rest (I told my boss that I'd ruptured myself and had to have an emergency operation for it.) I was out and about again. I quickly learned that only the police and I didn't know who had castrated me. The whole neighborhood seemed to know about it. The men smirked at me and hoisted their balls when we met on the street; the women sniffed at me and looked away, and the boys openly laughed at me and made remarks, especially Josh Black, the last boy not to like being buttfucked by me.An older boy showed me a boner and sneered "Wouldn't you like to be able to do this ?" I was so shattered emotionally that I actually bursted into tears and ran back to my apartment. I moved out of the neighborhood as soon as possible and later out of the city, but I can't run away from the emptiness of my own life. |