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The First Boy

562 words | 5 |4.35
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The first time I took a boy’s innocence…

A lot of these stories start by relating how the teller was abused or forced themselves at a younger age. This helps to defuse the situation, framing the narrative as one of handed down abuse, shared pain, and ultimately casting a light of understanding, if not redemption.

I have no such excuses. I was not abused. I was not harmed. But as I grew up, the desire to take what I wanted grew too strong. Maybe I was born with something intrinsically wrong…. Probably, I am irredeemable.

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I was 12 when I raped another boy for the first time. He was 10, and his parents used to take me and my younger brother along to Sunday school with him and his little brother. I’d known him for years. We’d grown up alongside each other, and played in the local woods a million times.

He was shorter than me – stockier too, with raven black hair. I had hair a reddish brown, and a lithe runners body. I’d discovered the joys of my cock as I passed the age of 11, and by 13, I wanted to try them out with someone else.

I’d become more and more conscious of Steve’s body, puppy fat giving him a nice curved ass, and lips that looked so ready to open for me. And wheni got the opportunity, I pounced.

We were playing in the garden, hide and seek, and I hid in the garden shed. I’d discovered that I could press myself against the wall behind the door, and let the door swing open, so it looked like it was empty. But still Steve decided to investigate, and as he stepped into the shed, I pushed the door shut and grabbed him. He wasn’t expecting me, and a squeal started to escape his lips. I pressed mine to his to shut him up, as I forced him back against the wall.

Pulling back from this, I told him that I’d captured him, and he had to do what I said now. As I pressed myself against his body, I felt my cock growing harder, and I pushed him onto his knees, and pulled down the front of my running shorts.

He opened his mouth to complain again, and I pushed my hardening cock in. I was determined to make him mine, determined to get a fuck. I should probably regret how I forced him, regret making him choke on my teenage cock. But I don’t. I’d do the same today – dominate him, force my cock into his mouth, and holding his head in place, rabbitfuck my small watery load into his mouth. No regrets, no worries. And then I told him that this meant he was gay.

His parents didn’t like gays. I told him as he cried that they’d hate him if they knew, and while he lay there in a huddle, I reached into his pants, feeling for his cock, seeing what I could get away with.

He didn’t stop me. Nor did he stop me the other times I sought him out, pushed him to his knees, and used that that sweet mouth. Unfortunately, my family moved away before I could try his ass. But the things I learned from him, I was able to improve on next time. And the next boy to catch my eye would be none other than my own brother.

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5 Comments

  • Reply Blackbear7 ID:1ck6aiqta2pr

    I have never raped anyone ever. I don’t condone or consider it. I never had it with anyone under the age that we weren’t the same age group and we all knew what was going to happen. If a partner changed their mind. I stopped, both male and female. I have never had a virgin in any sense. Never know that knowledge that I was their first.

  • Reply [email protected] ID:7yliv6toik

    Hot

  • Reply Anonymous ID:8glhd3aqzji

    I can’t wait to hear about your brother. I hope you fucked him and used his mouth. I’m hard just thinking about it.

  • Reply Cracksniffer ID:16oigapfzr9

    You really were a bad boy, but I admire the fact that you have no regrets.

    • GoldenBall ID:3k40n6rnv9j

      I still am a bad boy. I just got far less chances to act on it as I aged. Rape is much easier as a teenager than as a guy in his 40s. But I still take guys out and pour drinks into them until they’re unable to fight me off, then use their holes. I’ll tell the story of my brother next, and how he became my unwilling sex toy.