Fateful Comic Books

by Kellis

Fall, 2012, 6440 Words


“All right,” said Corey.  “If you’re sure you want to hear my fuck story.  I didn’t get started the same way you did.”

They were sitting over a checkerboard on the porch of the home.  Others conversed at adjacent tables but none dawdled close.  Don shrugged.  “If it was the same, it’d be less interesting anyway.  Sure, I want to hear it.  What else we got to do?”

“It starts about 1950, a little after the time of your tale.”  He chuckled reminiscently.  “You ever hear of Jimmy Walker’s claim to’ve never known a woman ruined by a book?”

“Mayor of New York — that Jimmy Walker?”

“Yeah.  When I’m being whimsical I sometimes think I was a boy ruined by one.”


* * *


My pal Jack and I were walking home from school on a warm sunny day in early fall.  He said, “I got something to show you.  Let’s go through the woods.”

So we turned off on the path that wound among trees and brambles.  Out of sight of the street, Jack pulled me down beside him on a fallen log, released his big geography book from the carrying strap and fished out a booklet that had been slipped among its pages.  “Let’s see how you like this.”

It consisted of maybe half a dozen sheets of paper, each about two by six inches, stapled together at one end, printed in black and white — the size of a panel from the daily funny paper, which I had been reading for a year.  Except you’d never find this in a daily paper!

“Gosh!” I declared, otherwise struck dumb.  The front page is a line drawing that displays a naked woman, lying on her back in a haystack, shapely legs up in the air with a rapturous look on her face, while a hairy man pushes his huge cock into her cunt.  White droplets fall from it.  In bold letters over their heads it says, “Burning Up the Hay.”

“It’s what they call a fuck book,” said Jack.

I paged through it slowly, studying every drawing.

The storyline is very simple: they fuck in about every position.  Near the end they’re at it so hard — you could tell because his ass is a lot of lines, just a blur — that flames spring up.  Her balloon says, “We’ve set the hay afire!”  His balloon says, ‘I’m coming!’  He pulls out his cock and sprays jizz all over the place, putting out the fire.

I had never before seen anything like that and I’ll never forget it.  The art was done well enough for us uncritical reviewers, except tits and cock were monsters.  For the first time my dick, which heretofore had risen only when jostled or full of piss, was hard as a rock.

“What d’you think?” said Jack.

“Good gravy!” was about all I could manage.  My old man had whipped my ass for cussing and I was honestly trying to avoid a repeat.

With a laugh Jack pointed to the flying jizz.  “Some gravy!”

“Where’d you get this?” I wanted to know.

“She made me promise not to tell.  I’ve got to give it back.”


“You won’t tell anybody, will you?”

“Cross my heart.”

“Okay.  It was Jane Fluret.”

Fifth Grade boys pay little attention to clothing, but even I had noticed that Jane wore ragged jeans, unheard-of on girls in those days.  She lived in a dilapidated house with no grass in the yard and was always hanging on the edge of girl groups.  I’d heard her cuss.

“Where’d she get it?”

He shrugged.  “Her big brother, I guess.”

I paged through it again, licking my lips.  “You got anymore?”

“Yeah.”  He chuckled and fished another out of the geography book.  Popeye and Olive Oyl starred in this one.  The drawing was poorly rendered but intelligible.

Olive Oyl has good legs but no tits.  Popeye’s dick is a shriveled sausage that Olive Oyl can’t get hard.  She sucks it and tries to put it in her cunt but it won’t go.  Wimpy, the hamburger lover, happens by.  Of course his little dick bounces right out there and Olive Oyl leaps on it.  While watching Wimpy’s jizz leak from Olive’s cunt, Popeye’s eyes give off daggers and he chugs a can of spinach.  You can guess what happens.  His cock swells to about six feet.  When he shoves it into Olive Oyl’s cunt, the head pops out of her mouth and Wimpy runs around, slurping the jizz out of the air.

I laughed with amazement.  My dick feels warm and sweet.  “Holy crud!” I yell.

Jack laughed too and produced one more fuck book.  He had saved the best for last.  The cover shows three naked women sprawled on a couch and an old guy in fancy clothes looking from the side.  Its title is Two and Three in the City.  It even has a by-line: “Three lonely girls.”  The girls in the story are pretty, the tits and cocks, while larger than life, are not impossibly so and the old guy looks like the plutocrat on a Monopoly board.  The draftsmanship is excellent with lines thicker in the middle of curves, which I learned years later is typical of the three women who drew part of the early Marvelman strip.

It’s so well drawn you can tell that the boy, who the old guy takes up with first, is about our age.  He has the required big dick but no cock hair when the old guy pulls his pants down.  After sucking the boy off the plutocrat licks his lips, says “That’s sweet jizz!” then fucks him in the ass till it runs down his legs.  The old man says, “Stick with me and I’ll give you anything you can imagine.”

The boy says he wants some girls, so the old guy takes them both to a fancy place — a whorehouse, I would say now — where three girls are waiting.  The five do everything, including a Greek sandwich or two.  The cocks spray two or three times each and of course the girls catch it in their mouths, claiming to love the taste.

I pointed to the sprays.  “That’s what they call jizz, right?”

“Maybe.”  Jack shrugged.  “Hugh Mack calls it come.”

“Come?  I thought coming was when you make it.  If you do.”

“Hugh Mack can.”

Hugh Mack, big, fat, dumb and easy-going, was well behind his age group, having failed two grades.

With a grin I suggested, “Maybe we can ask Jane.”

“What does she know about jizzing boys?”

“She knew you’d like these fuck books.”

“Well, who wouldn’t!”

His hand darted out and felt of me through my britches.  I started to jerk away but his touch felt good.  He grinned.  “You like them too.”

“Oh, yeah!”

He paged back to the front of the book and pointed to the closeup of the boy’s dick disappearing under the plutocrat’s moustache.  “What do you think of that?”

“I’ve heard of it,” I said.  “Guys who do it are called ‘queers.’  They can put you in jail for it.”

“Who told you that?”

I shrugged.  “Just kids talking.”  In a moment I recalled more.  “It’s called a ‘crime against nature.’”

Jack nodded, reluctantly I thought.  “Yeah.  I’ve heard that too.  But they can’t put you in jail if they don’t catch you.”

“Unless somebody tells it,” I said, thinking of my blabbermouth sister.

“That’s why when you do it, you make sure the other guy does it too.”

“What if it’s a girl?”

“Then the law wouldn’t care.”

“Why’s that?”  I was impressed by the unfairness.  “You could do this to a girl too.”  I pointed to the scene with the plutocrat’s dick up the boy’s ass.  It’s so well drawn you can make out the pucker of the skin around it and the cufflink on the hand squeezing the boy’s balls.

Jack sniffed.  “You couldn’t grab her balls or suck her dick.”

“She could suck yours.”  The idea startled me.  “Do girls do that?”

He pointed to a later scene.  “They do here.”

This was before television but I knew the difference between fact and fiction.  “I mean a real girl.”

His lips pursed as if he wanted to say something.

I picked up on it.  “You know of one?”

“Jane kissed it.”

“‘Kissed it?’  What do you mean?”

He stood up, looked around and grabbed my arm.  “Let’s go deeper in the woods and I’ll show you.”

This was Jack.  He and I both were eleven years old in the Fifth Grade.  We were the same size within a couple pounds.  I’d known him since I was very little, when we played together in the park across from our houses.  Once I had blacked his eye while he gave me a “hot” ear.  We had touched each other’s cocks, even directed each other’s piss.  I knew him better than anyone else on Earth, but this was new: the first time had I ever followed him anywhere with a hard-on.  I felt a sense of anticipation.

We pushed downhill to the burbling brook where, naked, we had waded and splashed the summer before.  He dropped his books on a moss-covered rock, stepped out of both shorts and underpants and regarded me expectantly.  “Get with it,” he ordered.

I listened for other noises in the woods and looked around, but mainly what I noticed was his exposure.  From socks to knees his legs were scratched, like mine, after going through the briarbushes, but above the knee his skin was smooth and pale.  Especially his dick, which was sticking straight out, at least as hard as mine, with the purple knob mostly exposed.  It was the first hard cock I’d ever seen, besides my own.  I wanted to compare them.  So down went my own shorts and underpants and I stepped close to him.

Mine showed less knob and had a slight upward curve while his was perfectly straight, but otherwise they were identical: pale with bright purplish red on the ends.  I now understand that fuchsia is the right name for that color.  They were both about the size of my present forefinger except the knobs were larger.  We touched the tips together and both giggled.

“That looks funny,” he said.

“You were going to show me what Jane did.”

He squatted down, leaned forward and kissed the end of my dick.  I jerked back but the deed was done.  He looked up.  “Wish I could do that to mine.”

“Doubt if it’s much different,” I suggested.

“I’m really talking about this.”  To my astonishment he caught me around the ass, opened his mouth and sucked half my dick into it.  I thought, How awful it must taste!  I was ready to bash his face, but before I could do anything, he sucked more in and I felt something totally unexpected and sweeter than sugar — but what the hell, you know what I’m talking about!  It was the first time I ever felt that thrill.  You can bet I’ll never forget it.

He started to bob his head, taking it almost all the way in and out.  Of course the thrill got stronger.  My dick felt delicious, better than chocolate!  I stood perfectly still, unable to believe what I was feeling, willing to die rather than stop it.  It kept rising, more and more intense.  When I was certain I couldn’t stand it any longer, suddenly it throbbed powerfully several times.  The feeling was just as strong but its character had changed: now so sweet that it hurt.  My legs got weak.  I staggered backwards and sat on a boulder.

He stared at me, licked his lips, grinned knowingly and said, “You came, didn’t you?”

What did I know?  “M-maybe.”  I heaved a sigh.  “Something sure happened!”

“What did it feel like?  Really good and getting better until you sort of fell off the cliff?”

“Right!” I said admiringly.  “Almost right.  You show me a cliff that feels like that and I’ll jump every time.”

“Then you came,” he said positively.  Taking hold of his own cock, he worked his fist back and forth.

“Okay, I came.  But I didn’t make any jizz.  Or did I?”

“No, you didn’t.  Hugh Mack says boys don’t until they’re 12 or 13.”

“Even if they come?”

“So he says.”

His hand had been moving right along.  I said, “What are you doing?”

“Jacking off until you get ready to kiss mine.”

It was my turn to grin knowingly, but I said, “Is that all you want, kissing?”

“No, it ain’t.”

“Did Jane suck your dick?”

“No.  Like I said, she only kissed it.  And played with it a little.”

“Like you’re doing now?”

“Yeah.  And feeling my balls.  Then she loaned me those fuck books.  When I read them, it was the first time I thought about cock sucking.”

“You imagined you were the boy with the old man?”


“But he fucked the boy up the ass.”

“I wonder how that would feel.”

“To the boy or the old man?”

He shrugged.  “Both, I guess.”

“You want me to play the old man, don’t you?”

“Part of it, like I did you.”  He backed away, sat down on his own rock and spread his legs wide apart.  His dick poked up in the air like a little arrow.  Or a snake head.

I knelt down in front of him.  I wanted to do it, but   I said, “How did it taste?”

“What?  Your dick?”  He shrugged.  “Like a dick, I guess.  That stuff under the skin is sort of bitter at first, but it goes away.  It’s not bad, if that worries you.”

“You didn’t taste piss?”

“Not to notice.”

I leaned forward, kissed the tip and said with a grin, “Now I’m Jane.”

“I want more than Jane."

The fuschia head of his dick was right under my nose, smelling like peanuts, but I hesitated.  He had sucked me to unmatched pleasure and I had no desire to withhold it from him.  Still

I took his dick in my hand and worked the skin.  It felt exactly like mine, even his balls when I squeezed them.  A couple years ago we had done that in exploration, with no sexual overtone.  Now it was different, as if I could sense what he was feeling.  I wondered how it had seemed to Jane.

I looked up at him.  “Jane could suck you.”

“She ain’t here.”

“Why didn’t she do it yesterday?  You were alone with her.”

“You’re right.”  He looked away.  “She would have, but I didn’t let her.”

“Didn’t let her?”  I laughed.  “You dummy!”

“You think I don’t know it?  I didn’t understand what she was doing.  When she opened her mouth, all I could see was sharp teeth.”

He actually blushed.  He’d been chicken!  But I understood perfectly.  At age eleven girls are strange and unpredictable creatures, not known for benevolence to boys.

I leaned forward and slurped up his whole dick, stopping only when my nose hit the skin above it.  It tickled the back of my throat but wasn’t long enough to gag.  He twitched when I closed my lips.

“Oh god!” he breathed, adding, “Lick the knob,” when I just knelt there, feeling a guilty thrill.  I had a dick in my mouth!

My lips had pushed the skin back, exposing the whole end.  I tasted the bitterness he had mentioned but was pleased at the smooth texture, like a bubble sucked in the skin of a balloon.  A tangy aroma teased my nose as I began to bob my head.  I wondered if it was piss.

“Oh god, that’s good!” he exclaimed with a shudder.  “Lick harder!”

So I worked my tongue fast.  He began to grunt and cuss.  “Oh fuck, oh fuck!  Don’t stop.  Whatever you do, don’t stop!  Yaa-aa-a!”

Don’t stop, he’d said.  Then why did he push my head back?  He took his dick in his fist and worked the skin like he had before.  But he soon quit, drew his knees together and leaned over them.  “God damn, Corey, that’s even better than jacking!”

“Then why are you cussing?”

“Can’t help it.”  He grinned up at me and guessed, “You really wanted to suck it, didn’t you.”

“Did you come?”

“Oh, yeah, you better believe it!  And I’ll tell you, it beats a fist all to pieces.”

“A fist?”

He gave me a puzzled look.  I was still kneeling before him.  He reached forward, grabbed my dick and began to slip the skin as he had done his own.  “Like this,” he said.  Once again I felt the unique thrill.  So a mouth wasn’t the only way!

I looked at his working hand.  “What do you call doing that?”

“Jacking off.  I can’t believe you never heard of it.”

I had heard the expression but no one ever told me what it meant.  Until now.  I had just learned something very important.

I was curious.  “How’d you learn about it?”

“Hugh Mack showed me.”

“Really?  Did he suck you?”

“Oh, no.  We didn’t talk about that.  Like I said, it was Jane’s fuck books that gave me that idea.”

“How did Hugh Mack show you?"

Jack giggled.  “Mr. Curiosity!”

“Why shouldn’t I know?  Unless   Did you suck his dick?”

Jack grimaced.  “I told you: we didn’t even mention cocksucking.”  He added with a little grin, “What he did was let me jack him off.  And it was really off!  He shot white stuff out in the air like a water pistol.”


“He called it come.”

“And he jacked you too, right?”

“Well, yeah, when he showed me how.”

“Did you come?”

“Yeah.  It was my first time.”  He giggled.  “Sure not my last!  But your mouth really beats a fist.  That was your first time just now, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Lucky devil, your first one was in somebody’s mouth!”

“It’s better than this?” I said wonderingly.

While we talked I had been stroking my cock.  The thrills were already almost continuous.  Thinking about that really makes me understand Shaw’s point that youth is wasted on the young.  Here I was coming again not 15 minutes after my first one.

He was right, I noticed: his mouth was better than my fist.  I recalled his tongue rubbing under my dick head.  Was that the reason?  That and the hot wetness and — even as a kid I understood it — the perverted nature of your piss-pipe stuck in somebody’s face.

I sat back on the ground, leaning against a rock, and saw that he was watching me with a half smile.  He had dropped his own cock, which sagged over his balls, maybe half-hard still.

He said, “You think now you’ll like your fist better than my mouth?”

I had already considered that.  “No, I won’t.  Mouths are best.”  A new idea popped up.  “Let’s try it with Jane’s mouth.”

“I’ll bet she’d do it.”  He thought about it and grinned.  “Sucking is just deep kissing.”

“Right.  When’ve you got to give those books back?”


“Okay.  Let me go with you.”

He frowned.  “I don’t mind, but two of us might scare her off.”

“I can hang back and sort of stumble on you.”

“That might work.”  He cocked his head at me.  “But we don’t have to wait for Jane.”

“You know somebody else?”

“Me.  And you.”

I shook my head, “Jack, we gotta be careful.  We can’t take the chance that anybody finds out what we’re doing.”

One of life’s little coincidences occurred just at that moment.  We heard kids hollering to each other above us in the woods.

“Shit!” we cried in unison, jumped to our feet and snatched underpants and shorts up around our waists.  Barely in time.

Jarvis Denton, a Sixth Grader, came around a tree and stopped, staring at us.  “Well, look who’s here!” he said loudly.  “What’re you twerps up to?”

What indeed!  “We heard a snake was in the brook.”  Two snakes, I thought, now in our britches and shrinking fast.

“A snake!  Did you find it?”

“No, we didn’t.  Now we’re going home.”

“That’s a good idea.  You might get hurt trying to keep up with us.”

As he spoke three other Sixth Graders emerged from the bushes.  Of the same mind, Jack and I darted together around the farthest bush and ran up the hill.  They got noisy behind us but no one hollered after us.

Again at the path and pausing for breath, I said, “That was close.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed.  He looked at me wistfully.  “But Corey

I knew what he wanted.  My dick was still tingling too.  I wanted the same thing.  “Sleep over at my house tonight.  Think your Mom will let you?”

“She might.”  His eyes brightened.  “Especially if I hurry up and rake the leaves.”


* * *


Of course when I got home, my first move was to rush to my bedroom, shuck off both sets of shorts, leap onto the bed and start jacking my cock.  It was thrilling pretty good when the Blabbermouth threw open my non-lockable door.  I rolled off the bed but not before she saw my naked bottom and pumping hand.  She rushed around the bed and stared down at me while I covered my hard-on with both hands.

“What in the world are you doing, Corey?”

“Scratching,” was the best I could find to say.

Her eyes widened.  “Does it itch that bad?”

“Otherwise I wouldn’t be scratching.  Get out of here before I tell Mamma you came in my room without knocking.”

She sneered.  “Go ahead, tell her and I’ll tell about your itching privates.”  She cocked her head.  “Maybe I should tell her anyway, if it’s that bad.  Let me see if you have a rash.”

“I don’t have a rash.  Get on out!”

Her eyes were flinty.  “Not until you show me.”

“What did you come in here for anyway?”

“To borrow some paper for my homework.  I’ve been waiting for you to get home.  What took you so long?”

So I got up, unstrapped my books and unclipped a few sheets of ruled paper.  I made no attempt to conceal my still hard dick and of course her eyes followed it around the room.

“Corey,” she said in almost a whisper, “is something wrong with your thing?”

“Of course not.”

“But it’s all swollen up.”

“How would you know that?” I said, stepping into my pants.

“I got a glimpse last summer when you were changing.”

“Spying on me, were you?”

“It was an accident.”

“I’ll bet.”  Now with my nakedness concealed, I faced her with hands on hips.  “Jennifer, this is getting out of hand.  I think we both ought to forget this afternoon.”

“Do I get to keep the paper?”

“Yeah, sure, if you keep your mouth shut.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Suddenly I thought of her lips around my cock — tempting if I could talk her into it, but very hazardous.

She paused at the door and said with a wise-looking grin, “Does it really itch, Corey?”

She was almost 13, nearly two years older than I.  I wondered if she knew about jacking off.  I wondered if girls do it.  And how, if they did.  Fortunately, before I could ask any of that, she giggled and left, leaving the door open.

Okay.  I turned my study desk around.  It had a vanity panel that prevented anyone in front from seeing under it.  With pants shoved down to my knees, I plopped into the chair behind it and resumed playing with my new toy.  Soon I enjoyed my third orgasm.  Blabbermouth did not reappear.

God, those first ones were wonderful!  It’s probably a damn good thing adults can’t string ‘em out like kids, else nobody would get any work done.  I’ve noticed that women can do it once you get ‘em started.  Again it’s probably a good thing they’re so hard to start.

I had to let it alone when I discovered that you can’t whip up another come immediately after the last one.  Later I proved that in fact you can, but you have to work too hard for it.

At last I realized what Blabbermouth’s invasion portended.  If Jack and I were going to suck cocks in my bed tonight, I had to find someway to lock the door.  Ideas came fast in those days.  Looking at my desk, the answer popped right up.  Jack and I would put it in front of the door.

Which is what we did as soon as Mom sent us to bed.  Then we grinned at each other, turned out the light and tore off our clothes.  Going to one knee, I said, “I’ll do you first.”

Jack was having ideas too.  “Let’s do it together.”


Of course that was simple.  We arranged ourselves on the bed in the classic sideways 69 and started sucking with a will.  He was already hard and so was I.  He came off first while making curious humming sounds.  He backed his hips away and spat out my dick.

“Hey!” I whispered loudly.  “Keep going!  I’m almost there.”

“I want to try something that I thought of at home.”

“While you were jacking off.”

He giggled.  “Just like you.  No.  When you come, don’t pull it out.  Just freeze.  I think you’ll like what happens next.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll see.”

He reslurped me and in half a minute I was coming.  I froze as he had directed.  He kept sucking for maybe half of the declining thrills, but when the too-much point arrived, he held his mouth perfectly still.  I could stand that!  When my dick stopped pulsing, he increased the suction very gently.  The fading thrills lasted a lot longer.

“How was that?” he asked when I relaxed.

“The greatest yet.  I know what you did.  I’ll do it to you.”

“Do it now.  I’m still hard.”

My hand found his dick.  My mouth followed and I sucked him lightly.  He did the same to me.  The feeling was nice but not at all sharp.  We kept it up for a long time.  I think I fell asleep with his dick in my mouth.

At first light we awoke and resumed sucking.  Very briefly.  Our bladders were full, of course, and neither of us liked the flavor of piss.


* * *


An hour after school we met Jane in the woods behind her house.  She was there before us.  I hung back when we saw her but Jack motioned for me to join them.  As I approached, he said, “I told her you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

She laughed.  “Unless he’s sucking a dick?”

I glared at him.  “Who’s mouth has been open!”

He cried, “Shut up, you dumb ass.”

She bent over from laughing.  I realized I had merely confirmed her supposition.

She had unkempt red hair.  Are all red-haired women hot numbers?  This one was about eleven, our age, in our school class, not yet fully a woman, and although her family was poverty-stricken, she was no dumb bunny.  She wore a faded shirt too large for her and threadbare jeans with the knees out, at a time when respectable girls wore skirts.

Now she grinned at me.  “Did you like what the old man did to the boy?”

I listened carefully but could hear only good humor in her voice.

Jack said, “What we like is what the girls did to both of them.”

She studied him.  “And what Popeye did to Olive Oyl?”

I had to demur.  “Nobody’s dick is that big!”

“Too bad.  You bring my books?”

Jack unstrapped his geography and produced the fuck books.  She put them in a paper bag and grinned.  “What’d you think of ‘em?”

I said, “We liked them.  Where’d you get ‘em?”

“From some very interesting guys.”  She cocked her head at Jack.  “They want to meet you.”

“Meet me?  What for?”

“To have fun.”

I had a suspicion.  “Like the old man and the boy?”

She looked at me but didn’t answer.  Jack picked it up.  “Like the old man and the boy?”

“Like the girls too,” she said to him.

“Are you like the girls?” I asked.  We had no doubt which girls were being referenced.

She said, still looking at Jack, “I can do everything they could.”

That was a lot.  With the help of man and boy they had even demonstrated a Greek sandwich.  But I thought she was putting on.

I bored in.  “You’ll suck our dicks?”

She took Jack’s hand, said, “Come on,” and led him deeper into the woods.  It never occurred to me that she might want to exclude me.  I followed them.

We came to a cool little grassy clearing.  “This is my favorite place,” she said.  “Sit for a while.”

So we sat down in the grass on either side of her.  She still held Jack’s hand but said to me, “Some things are more fun than cocksucking.”

I couldn’t imagine what.  Neither could Jack.  He said, “No way!”

“I’ll show you.”  She shucked her shoes, wiggled out of her jeans, threw off the oversize shirt and sat staring at Jack.  “Your turn.”

I said, “What if somebody comes along?”

“Nobody knows we’re here.  I already saw what you got, Jack.  What are you waiting for?"

So he stripped too.  When he did, I was quick to follow.  The air felt cool but was warm enough.  His dick was sticking straight out.  I pumped mine a little, wondering what was next.

She laughed at him.  “I was gonna suck your cock hard.”  She extended her hand.  “Come here and get on top.”

As he crawled over her, she spat in her hand, caught his dick and guided it.  I stooped down between their legs and saw it go right into her hairless slit, which opened up around it.  His tight little ball sack was lying right over her asshole.

“Now fuck me,” she said.  Their hips began to move.

I knelt beside them.  So this was fucking!  Dimples were coming and going in Jack’s ass cheeks.  I stroked my tingling dick but slowed down when the thrill started.

Before long Jack’s back arched and he froze.  It seemed to me he was trying to stick his cock through her and out her mouth, like Popeye with Olive Oyl.  He grunted several times and rolled off her onto his back.  She lay with her scabby knees drawn up, pussy gaping a little.  It looked wet.

Her eyes sought mine with real purpose for the first time.  “Your turn,” she said, “but first do me a favor.  You’ll like it after you get started.”

I had already dropped to my knees in front of her.  “What favor?”

“Lick my pussy.”

The old man had licked all three pussies in the comics and claimed they tasted like honey, which I had taken the liberty to doubt.  The boy had finally been talked into it, but the old man was sucking his dick the whole time.

Jack looked to be out for the count, so it was up to me.  Was a pussy worse than a dick in your mouth?  Huh!  How could you get one in it?

So I leaned down and wiggled her slit with a tentative tongue.  I smelled piss and something hot.

She said, “Do it harder.  I’ve already got started.”

So I bore down.  My tongue delved into rolls of flesh.  She said, “At the top.  Do it at the top.”

I understand now that of course she wanted her clitoris stimulated.  A tongue can recognize one as it stiffens under attack.  I went to town on hers.  Before long she squealed and closed her thighs on my ears.  Something about it — the strange intimacy, the odor — made my dick so hard it almost hurt.

She was pulling my hair.  I raised my head.  Her lips were drawn back over her teeth.  “Fuck me, damn it!” she ordered.

I only had to fall forward onto her.  I think my dick slipped into her unguided.  Maybe the upward curve helped.  Her pussy gripped me almost tight as my fist.  She was right.  It beat even a sucking mouth.

I started coming almost right away and discovered why Jack had arched his back.  If I could have, I would have shoved my dickhead up into her throat also!

In reconstructing that scene, which is as plain in my memory now, 60 years later, as if it were yesterday, I think Jack had aroused her but like most boys was much too quick.  From the experience with her “guys” she knew what to do.  She started coming under my tongue and finished it around my cock.  As for me, that may have been the strongest single climax of my life, despite its dryness.  I knew a woman years later who could make me let them build up to what she called a “Vesuvius eruption,” but that’s another story.

Jack wanted to lick her pussy.  “Oh yeah!” she said with a happy grin.  It was his turn to slurp.  Panting, I lay watching them, stroking my dick.  She began to squeal as she had for me.  Her thighs closed again.  Soon she was pulling his hair.  Up he climbed and started fucking.  He was at it longer this time, several minutes, I think.  She humped and squealed the whole time.  I watched her with mounting astonishment.  Was she coming over and over?

I’ve often wondered if all eleven-year-old girls have such a limitless sexual capacity.  Why not?  Many teenage girls have exhibited it, and by analogy, if a prepubescent boy can jerk off twice as often as a man, why can’t little girls have orgasms as continual as a woman?  Did you ever hear of the sleepovers that girls throw, sometimes very young ones, where they lie around on the carpet, fingering themselves madly, in indulgence of “that feeling?”  But I digress.

When he rolled off, I was ready to go again, but she said sorrowfully, “I’d love it, Corey, but I can’t.  You’re first the next time.  Jack, when can you go with me to meet my guys?”

She was pulling her clothes back on.  Jack thought a minute.  “How about Saturday afternoon?  Corey and me always go to the movies.”

“Just you at first.”

He looked at me.  “Would you get mad?”

Of course I had to say no, but I was already jealous.

We were quiet on the way home.  In front of his house, he said, “Can you spend tonight with me?”

But I was pussy struck.  “You think cocksucking is as good as fucking?”

He looked at me sideways.  “We could fuck.”

His dick up my ass?  My dick in a shithole?  After Jane’s silken pussy both ideas were icky.  If he’d mentioned either the night before, I’m sure I’d’ve been game.

Instead I said, “Tell me what happens with Jane’s guys.”  It was Friday; he would know in 24 hours.

“Sure.  See you later, then.”

But we didn’t see each other again, not in the same way.  He didn’t show on Sunday.  When I finally cornered him at school, he said, “Her guys ain’t kids, Corey.”

“What happened?”

He hesitated, finally shook his head.  “I can’t talk about it.”

“‘Can’t talk about it!’  Why not?”

“They’d kill me.  And I ain’t kidding.”

He and I had been bosom buddies for five years, but that was end of our friendship, probably because my burning curiosity bugged him too much.  And he really was afraid of getting snuffed.  Oh, we were pleasant enough when we met, but he moved to a desk across the schoolroom from me.  We ceased to attend parties together.  Additional warm nights of cocksucking excitement were notable for their absence.

But that was all right.  With my new sexual expertise I was able to talk several girls into standing in for Jack over the forthcoming years.


* * *


“Ruined by a comic book, eh?” mused Don with a grin.  “Doesn’t sound too ruinous.”

“Doesn’t it?”  Corey grinned in return.  “How many queers get their start at age eleven?”

“Didn’t I see your daughters here last week?  Or did you adopt them?”

“No, they’re the real thing.  Or so my wife assures me.”

“Well, then you’re not a queer.  Did you ever have another gay experience?”

Corey shrugged.  “A fling in college.  But it wasn’t very gay.  I discovered I don’t like men to get that close.”

“The same here.  What happened to Jack?”

Corey nodded.  “There’s a bit more to his story.  The state cops made a big deal about busting a pedo ring several years after he and I parted.  It was thoroughly written-up with all the euphemisms.  Jack and Jane were ringleaders.  They both went to prison.  Jane, a true ‘ugly duckling,’ turned out to be a beautiful woman.  I heard she fucked her way out of trouble and married a police commissioner.

“Used to be a saying, ‘16 will get you 40,’ referring to years of age and years in the slammer.  It applied to Jack.”

Don thought it over.  “You never heard if Jack learned to love sucking full-sized cocks?”

Corey grinned reminiscently.  “No, but I know he relished at least one little ’un.”



Contact Kellis: kellis@dhp.com