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Introduction:

Memories in the life of a boy.
A note for the reader. All the characters in this fictional story, that were involved in any sexual act, were carefully screened. Their identifications were thoroughly checked and authenticated. Not one is under the age of twenty one. If you are looking for a story involving underage fictional characters, you will not find them here. Occasionally a younger child is mentioned as a reference to allow the reader to understand a certain viewpoint. Rest assured any children that may have been mentioned were placed on a separate page until the sex scenes were over so their young minds wouldn’t be corrupted. The story was then pasted together after the children had gone to their fictitious homes.

The author is of the age that he sees all persons between the ages of four and thirty as boys and girls. The ones under age four are of course babies. The author does not distinguish the ages of the boys and girls other than the fact that all are above the legal age of twenty one and some are older than others. Thus many of the characters are referred to as boys and or girls. Sometimes the author might refer to them as little or young. That’s a force of habit. My forty year old son is still my little boy, even though he doesn’t think so.

To get the maximum enjoyment from the story, it is suggested that the reader read Part One first.




Total Confusion Part Twelve


When I think of all the times David told me all boys did it, but did not tell anybody, it made me wonder who some of my friends were doing it with. The bad part was I thought it was true. There were so many people that stared at me like if I ever get you alone, I am going to eat your thing off.

I don’t know if all of them wanted to suck me. I don’t know for sure if they all wanted me to suck them, but I knew for a surety everyone of them loved looking at me. Most of them, I will never know about. They never got me alone. Others just never had enough nerve to do anything but watch me. I hated doing it and if you weren’t going to make a bold move, I usually would be more than happy to leave you watching.

If you had enough nerve to make me go for it or actually ask me to, I did it. I was usually afraid not to. There were the few times I did it to get something I wanted, like the time at the motel, when I did it for beer. I was ashamed of that, but it never stopped me. I had a hard time trying to reason why it seemed so many guys wanted to kiss me.

I knew I was not supposed to be kissing any guys, but I was anyway. I was still hooked on kissing and enjoyed it immensely. Of course I was a little more particular about who I enjoyed it with, but damn near all of them were still guys. My lips couldn’t be that sweet, yet they seem to drool over the prospect of sticking their tongue onto mine. Why do they like to get spit out of my mouth. They would actually ask me to push my spit into their mouths and they would eagerly suck it up.

It was very weird. It made me feel like I was messed up and I was soiled and dirty, especially when they decided to slip a wad of their spit into my mouth. It was gross, but I didn’t dare throw up in one of their mouths. I was too afraid of being hurt. I felt like throwing up, but fear can work wonders. The guys that didn’t want me for sex didn’t want me at all. They didn’t want me around them, they said it was because I was just a young guy. I knew better. It was because I wasn’t worth a damn unless I was sucking you between your legs. I guess I had it coming.

I was being trained to be a faggot and I could not get out of the training. I always wished someone would make them stop, but no one knew about it except the ones that wanted to do me in the first place and they weren’t going to make anyone stop. I could not tell any one else, because they would know how fucked up I was and would no longer love me or worse yet would want me for themselves. Wondering who was going to want me next or what David would think of next, weren’t things that a young boy should have to worry about.

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That brings me back to David. I began to feel, David could get me anytime he wanted. I have always had a lot of trouble with my sinuses. I seemed to be allergic to almost everything. I had these same problems all through the abuse, but have refrained from bringing it up as it is really a separate issue and would have taken away from the emotion at that particular part of the story.

Today at David’s, I am suffering with a stopped up runny nose. For the benefit of those who have never experienced one, it is a nose that I can’t get any air through. It also drivels snot all across my lips. This was a fine day for a round in the box. Now the snot was running down my chin as well. I had to try to breathe while sucking on these guys’ dicks.

To top it all off, today was to be a 4 hour marathon. I hated the box on a good day. I had to hold my lips wrong to get air down one side of their shaft and this made my mouth sore. If you sucked a penis wrong, it made the insides of your cheeks sore after about twenty minutes. My nose made me less effective and I spent close to five hours finishing them off.

Paul had finished way before I had and sat there watching me for the hour in which he had no penis to suck. You were not allowed to get in line more than twice on either side. Just my luck, every one of the bastards got in my line twice. I knew this, because the maximum number of guys he would bring in was twenty five. I would often count them backwards from fifty. That way I knew when I had to be finished and if there weren't twenty five of them there or some of them only got in line once, it was a pleasant surprise.

When it was over, David got so excited seeing cum running down my chest he wanted a kiss. My mouth was killing me by now. When he noticed all the snot running out of my nose, he put his mouth over my nose and tried to suck the snot out of my head. It was terribly embarrassing. David liked to drink any liquid that came out of me, especially stuff like sweat, or snot, or piss, or even blood.

I felt really stupid when he made me do exercises to make me sweat so he could lick it off the back of my ass. He usually ended up licking me all over my body. I felt so fucked up when he did that. He really was a sick bastard. You would think I would be used to all of his sick shit by now, but I still felt squeamish about doing my private functions in the presence of people who shouldn’t be seeing it. This included jerking off and anything that a boy shouldn’t be doing with another male.

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I enjoyed spending the night with Paul and I wished I could spend every night with him. Of course I couldn’t move in with Paul, so that wasn’t happening. We would find ways of being alone whenever we could. I would like it better at Paul’s if I didn’t have to suck his Dad. I didn’t find him to be gross and I liked the way he tasted, but I felt like I didn’t belong on the end of it and there was something wrong with me for doing it with him.

I am very grateful to him that he never did me in my ass and was glad he never tried to suck me. Isn’t that great? I was grateful to someone for not sucking me. I know that sounds strange, but it was more embarrassing to get sucked than it was to suck. I was always conscious of my tiny prick. They never teased me about it when they wanted it, but I knew they thought it was a little tiny penis.

I couldn’t begin to count the number of dicks that I have sucked. The last time was when I sucked Paul just before he moved away. I did not include the times I was the abuser. The times when I found a young boy who was sweet and susceptible. That was an insignificant number compared to the rest of it anyway.

There were days when I did my stint in the box, where I did the fifty in line and David after they left, as well as Paul and his Dad when I walked home with Paul. I would do Paul twice if I spent the night. I never went a day that I didn’t do at least two a day. Sometimes it would be as many as 54, if I stayed at Paul’s after a full session in the box, which was usually at least a couple of two or three times a week.


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The number of blowjobs I have given easily exceeds 16000. I felt like all I ever did was suck. It really bothered me when I did it with people who hadn’t forced me to. I was gradually convincing myself that it wasn’t happening. By the time Paul went away, the only penis I remembered sucking was his and I had no idea how I ever got started sucking his.

I had a big chunk of my life missing. I wasn’t experiencing the full range of emotions. Love was something I didn’t seem to understand. I thought I loved the people I was supposed to, but there was always someone who was telling me that I was only concerned with myself.

I tried to make it different, but nothing seemed to change. I could experience anger, but it seemed that too had to be controlled. It was like I always held everyone at arm’s length. That was as close as you would get. It was as if I had some terrible secret to protect that I could never let anyone find out about, no matter what the cost. I would kill to protect it. That was one reason I had to control anger, the fact I knew I would kill to protect my secret.

During one of my therapy sessions, after I had progressed to the point where I allowed myself to start remembering the abuse, the therapist said I didn’t have to keep such a tight rein on my anger. It wasn’t like you are going to go out and kill someone. You need to let it out. You have to deal with it so it can go away. I wasn’t prepared to tell him at that point I had already killed to protect my secret and had done so without even knowing what the secret was.

I remember the day the abuse with David ended and it upsets me to this day. Sometimes I think if I had just had the nerve to do what I did that day, with David the first time, none of it would ever have happened. The way it ended was as simple as this. It was roughly a week after our last time with Tina. David was helping me celebrate my birthday. He was fucking me in the butt. He had done Paul a little earlier.

Now Paul was watching me get mine. I was having one of those times where I felt like I was super dirty and what was happening wasn’t right. Out of the clear blue I told David that if he didn’t stop, I would tell on him. Damn, he pulled his shaft out of my ass and put his clothes back on. I told him he had better leave Paul alone too.

We got dressed and David dropped us back out where he picked us up. He never tried anything with either of us again. As we walked up the road, Paul said, "Thanks! " That was the only time we discussed anything David had done to us. It was all he said, but I new what he meant. I didn't say anything, but I think Paul knew how I felt too.

That really hurt. All that shit I went through and all I had to do was say stop. The therapist helped me to realize that when I was younger, I was weak and David probably would have hurt Paul or me like he had threatened to. He let me understand that when I had gotten older I had also gotten stronger and bigger, and David knew his threats were now empty.

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My nose gave me a lot of problems. One of the worst problems was, it would bleed. Sometimes for up to two and a half hours, then I would have to go to the hospital to have it cauterized so I wouldn’t bleed to death. I was sitting on the couch one day watching TV with my Dad. I was fourteen at the time. I was just sitting there when my nose started bleeding. My Mom got some wet rags and ice to put on it to stop the bleeding.

The blood almost seemed to squirt out of the side of the rag. It would also run down the back of my throat causing me to have to swallow. After two hours of this, Dad decided to take me to the emergency room. When I walked in, I was incoherent and nauseous both from the blood loss and from having swallowed so much of it. It had bled for longer than this at times, but never this freely.

I was losing a lot of blood. I was still bleeding profusely and was a virtual red mess. I was staggering as if I was drunk. The emergency room nurse took one look at me and made a quick phone call. In short order, several doctors showed up. One carted me off to a treatment room and the other ushered my Mom and Dad off to another room.

I was only in the room for a few minutes when several policemen showed up. While the doctor was treating me, one of the policemen started grilling me on what happened to me. He asked me, "Who did this to you? Did your Dad beat you? It's ok, you can tell us. We can keep him from hurting you again, but only if you come clean and admit your Dad beat you."

I tried to tell them I had been sitting quietly on the couch when it started bleeding. I guess they hadn't believed me since I really did look like someone beat me pretty good. I found out later they didn't believe my Dad either. They had been trying to get him to go ahead and fess up. They told him it was a very bad thing for someone to beat a child like that.

They thought I was too scared of my Dad to tell on him. They wanted to put my Dad in jail, but they couldn't get me to change my story and they couldn't prove he had done it. The one thing they were sure of was it hadn't just started on it's own. They said no one's nose bled that profusely and just started on its own.

That was the first time I got the impression our police force may not necessarily be my friend, even though they were insisting they could help me immensely if I would just cooperate. Help me what? Brow beat me and scare me into saying my Dad hurt me so they would quit scaring me?

Then what? Spend the rest of my childhood in some children's home where the other boys might beat me or rape me? Maybe I would be better off in foster care than with my loving parents. After thinking through how the police handled a nose bleed by making me feel like I was a criminal that needed to fess up, there was absolutely no way they would ever find out I was being used as a girl.

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My nose bleeds could get really nasty. There were occasions this was a great thing. There were times my nose bleeding has shortened my time with David. He is a fucked up person, because he likes to suck the blood from my nose for a little while before he would let us get dressed and drop Paul and I off so I could go home with blood all over me. Sometimes I wondered if he liked sucking my nose better than sucking my meat.

David did have to be careful about my nose, as he didn’t want to have to deal with a dead recently fucked little boy in his house. He devised a plan where I would flip on a lamp he placed on top of the box, if my nose started to bleed during one of the marathons. We would finish the guy we were working on and I would have to get Paul to lick the blood off of my guy’s dick when I finished him.

If I finished before Paul, we would switch. I would have to finish Paul's guy and Paul would have to lick the blood off of them both. David would tell the rest of them the girls were tired of sucking for the day and they had to leave. Then David would lick some of the blood off the front of me before sucking on my nose.

David was a really fucked up individual. He would get Paul and I to piss in his mouth and he would gulp it down. David seemed to have an addiction to Paul's and my piss. He couldn't seem to get enough of it. The longer we held it in, the better he liked it. David liked for it to have a really strong piss taste to it when he swallowed it. I preferred for it to taste as much like water as possible. I detested the taste of piss. None the less, I've still had my share of it.

He liked to shit in our mouths from time to time. He actually expected us to chew it up and swallow it. It was really impossible to hold it in my mouth let alone do the other two. Even so, I have swallowed quite a bit of it however briefly before going into a barf fest. I would get ill when he was getting ready to do that. Anytime he said to suck on his ass, I knew I was going to eat shit.

As scared as I was of David, I still threw up vehemently every time the shit rolled in. I guess David knew I would never get used to eating shit, because he didn’t say anything about not getting sick. David asked Paul to shit in his mouth one time, but he started puking big time and that was the end of that. It turns out David found out eating shit wasn’t all that exciting. It wasn’t quite boring enough for him to quit making us eat it.


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As time went on, I loved Paul more and more and hated David more and more. I thought the donkey episode was over. It was not so. We celebrated my next birthday sans a week by dropping by Mister Donkey’s place for a few hours. David made Paul and I kiss at the head of the donkey’s thing with our lips pushed together and wrapped around it.

David fucked my butt while he jerked the donkey off into our mouths. I felt like dying. It was so gross, kissing Paul with a mouth full of stuff from a donkey’s prick. When we had finished the regular crap of he sucked who, David put Paul on the crate. Paul was so scared he pissed. He was shaking all over and actually turned white. He screamed bloody murder, but David held him the same way he held me. I knew there was nothing Paul could do but cry. When it was over, I could see Paul was sick. He looked like he was dead. He probably felt dead too except I figure he needed to take a major shit and would probably shoot it all over the place.

Again, not so. David made Paul lay on the dirt floor of the barn on his back with his legs up in the air to give the donkey’s cum time to move around in his bowels. That would give him the Hershey squirts for sure. He forced me to put my ear on Paul’s belly and to listen to it turn his insides to mush. I did this for about five minutes. All the while I could see the struggle on Paul’s face as he tried desperately to hold it in.

Then David made me lay on the floor in the hay while Paul stood on his knees with his ass facing the top of my head. David told him to lower his butt into my mouth and ordered me to suck Paul’s ass. He told Paul that if he could hold it for five more minutes he could take a shit without doing it in my mouth. It was really gross. Not that I had Paul's hiney hole in my mouth, but he had a lot of dirt and straw stuck to the donkey cum in the crack of his ass.

Now that was in my mouth too. It was all I could do to keep from puking up my guts. I could feel Paul’s muscles working back and forth while he tried desperately to keep from shitting. He had made it for three minutes when David told me to stick my tongue in Paul’s butt hole. When my tongue slid in, Paul sprayed the inside of my mouth. He shit in my mouth and he shit all over me as well. I can’t tell you what throwing up means to a boy with a mouthful of donkey cum mixed with his friend’s liquefied shit. Damn David. I hated that bastard.

I know how Paul felt trying so hard not to take a dump in his friend’s mouth and making a mess anyway. I dreaded the times I was forced to do those nasty things to Paul. Having to watch him lie there and gag was hard on me. I was also scared to death, because I knew just as soon as the donkey had enough time to relax a little, David was going to stuff that big dick up my ass again. God it hurt and I felt so bad. I screamed constantly while the donkey was in me. Afterward I was crying from the pain and humiliation and being upset because I was forced to shit it all into Paul’s mouth when the donkey got through.


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Paul’s Dad must have been extremely horny today. He actually walked into the bathroom while I was taking a bath. Actually I was working on making Paul excited as hell without making him shoot off. Sometimes we would take turns playing with each other and building the excitement and letting it die down just a little before doing it all over again. When I was careful to do it right, Paul would start oozing cum out of his rod for as long as I kept up the teasing rhythm.

The trick was watching his eyes. When they got that special glint to them, I knew he was building up to orgasm. I would ease up a little until he calmed back down and then I would charge him up again. I enjoyed it immensely when he did it to me too. Usually I would sit on the edge of the bed beside him and he would soak his lap. Later, I would lick him clean. Today I was coating the surface of the water in the tub with his juice.

Anyway, this was the first time Paul's Dad had the nerve to approach us before everyone went to bed and while Paul’s Mom was home. He had come in the bathroom while we were taking a bath before, but no one else was home then. Paul sucked him from the edge of the tub and then shared it with me in a long caressing kiss while I continued to milk him lovingly into the tub.

Sherry often watched me do it to Paul in his bedroom and would sometimes lie down on the floor so Paul's cum would fall all over her face and tits. It was a little uncomfortable when you were the dribbler. You had to slide your butt to the edge of the bed far enough for your three inch peter to reach her. It was well worth the discomfort to see Sherry get so excited.

Sherry looked some kind of sexy lying on the floor covered in Paul’s cum. I couldn’t wait to get my lips on her. Trust me it was worth the wait. I figured her Dad was getting her to give him blow jobs too. There was no way she could give them like she did, if it had been her first time. She was as skilled at giving blow jobs as Paul, and I were. Her Dad had just left out of her room when Paul and I went in. When I kissed her, she tasted sweet, like Paul did, just after sucking his Dad. I guess I really knew she was doing him too, but I also understood her not wanting us to know.

Somehow I knew the importance to her stability for me not to ask if she was giving her Dad suck. I certainly didn't want her to know I was. I often worried she would taste her Dad on me when I kissed her. That maybe she knew, but understood she shouldn't ask either. I asked her once if she had ever done it with any of her girl friends. She said no she hadn’t, but had been wondering what it might be like.

Sherry said one of her girl friends had hinted at trying it, but so far, nothing had happened. She promised that next time her girl friend hinted she would make sure something happened. Sherry said she admired all of her girl friends pussies when ever they were undressed together. She promised to let us watch when she found the right friend.

I was hoping it would be her friend Sarah. She spent the night with Sherry every once in a while and presented quite a sight in her underwear. A lot of little girls liked to wear a man’s T-shirt that would be comfortable yet expose their legs and a wisp of their crotch. Jenny used to do it all the time when she spent the night at my house. She claimed it was comfortable.

Sarah kept my little rod hard the whole time she was there. I noticed Paul's Dad kept a pretty good eye on Sarah too. His dick would poke at his pants the whole time she was around him. Paul and I peeked at Sarah through the keyhole whenever we could. She tore my nerves up when we looked at her this way. Her pussy and tits were beautiful. Sherry was a good sport, because she would stay clear of our line of sight so we could enjoy Sarah's beauty.

Sherry knew we would be looking because we asked Sherry if we could peek at her through the keyhole when she was in the bathroom. She thought it was neat having us steal glances at her that way and thought it would be exciting knowing we were getting all tore up looking at her friend as well. She said just to be careful Sarah didn't catch us. I drooled over the prospect of doing Sarah, but I figured I never would. We got to peek at several of Sherry's other girl friends as well. All of them were absolutely gorgeous, but none of them excited me quite like Sarah did.




To be continued………………………………........................................
4 comments

anonymous readerReport

2013-10-26 21:02:42
Im a dude Kik me @twotrill if u want to trade pics or vids. The younger the better. Boy or girl

Kenny1kennyReport

2011-09-27 22:02:33
Thank you for your heartfelt opinion. Yes the story has a lot of what you call changes. It is a compilation of memories about the characters abuse. The story is also about 28 chapters long. Some of which are quite a bit longer than others. I tried to separate the thoughts with a series of *************** as much as possible to let the reader know they were either a different chain of thought or a separate time frame. I still respect your observation. I also agree that the story is hard to believe. Anyone else have a take on it?

anonymous readerReport

2011-09-27 14:05:36
story has to many changes hard to believe it real

Kenny1kennyReport

2010-04-29 20:43:18
Are these stories fantasy or did this little boy actually go through all of this. Give me your input. Don't forget to vote.

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