Slippery Slope Pt. 01

Prelude

A soft, warm breeze blew in through the open veranda doors, causing the sheer curtains to billow into the room like puffy white clouds in the twilight. The breeze made me shudder as it caressed the thin film of sweat that coated my body. The movement of my body made Ben stir a bit against me. I was still impaled upon his cock. It had started going flaccid as he drifted into sleep, but my stirring wakened it a bit and I could feel it hardening in my ass as Ben thrust forward with his hips to completely re-bury his rod inside of me.

He had fallen asleep with his cock inside of me and one hand wrapped possessively around my penis and the other caressing my chest. He grunted and drew me closer into him as he began to slowly move in and out of me. It felt as if my small, skinny body was being absorbed into his large, beefy torso. Even though he was sixty years old, no one could ever accuse Ben of being under-sexed.

He had fallen asleep after fucking the shit out of me for the last few hours and here he was, fucking me in his sleep. His cock was hard and throbbing now. The pace of his thrusting quickened and he began to shudder as I felt his load erupting into my ass. How could he still have so much in him after all of our love-making? He shuddered with the spasms of his eruption and his love-juice leaked out of my ass. It was over quickly. He snuggled closely and fell deeper into sleep with his arms wrapped tightly around me. I sighed deeply. How I had I come to this? Where had it all begun?

The Magazine

I guess it all started with a magazine. It was years ago – the early seventies; a different time; a simpler time; a time with no internet or cell phones or big screen TV's or tablet computers. I was eighteen years old and bound for my freshman year of college. My parents had taken me on a final summer fling to that famous theme park in Florida. It had been a nice trip, but now it was over and we were at the airport in Chicago waiting for our bags to come down the conveyor. Nature called and I excused myself to head to the men's room.

I was a pretty normal teenage boy; or at least I thought I was. I was full of raging hormones and constantly horny and very aware of all the temptations that surrounded me. Those temptations basically consisted of teenaged girls and it didn't take much to awaken little Paul, Jr. who resided in my pants. I had already had some success with the girls despite the fact that I wasn't exactly jock material.

In fact, I was a skinny, little guy whose five-foot, six-inch frame weighed in at one hundred and ten pounds. And Paul, Jr. wasn't really all that much to write home about. He stiffened up to only about five inches and was not very thick around. But when I pulled back his foreskin it exposed an attractive little head that glistened with pre-cum whenever temptation occurred. But I wasn't prepared for the temptation that presented itself in the airport restroom.

Instead of stepping up to the lavatory and pissing like a man, I retreated to a stall as was my wont. I didn't like exposing my little cock to other guys and, quite frankly, I never really mastered the art of pissing while standing up. I always seemed to spray all over the place and never hit the desired target. So, I generally sat down like a girl to do my duty. So, I picked a stall, put one of those paper protectors over the seat, pulled down my pants and sat down.

And there it was; at eye-level. It was a magazine propped on top of the toilet paper holder. "Men and Their Boyz" was the title on the cover. The front cover was a photograph of a large man standing in back of younger man. The older guy had one arm draped around the boy's shoulders and the other arm across the boy's torso with his hand cupping the boy's cock. There was a lascivious sneer on the face of the older man. The boy's eyes were closed and the look on his face communicated arousal and surrender. I took the magazine in my hands and as I stared at the powerful image on the cover, I could feel my cock begin to twitch to life.

This was unexpected, but not unpleasant. I opened the magazine and began to leaf through the pages. There were pictures of couples on every page; an older guy and a boy. The disclaimers in the magazine declared that all models were eighteen or older, but it was obvious that the boys chosen to model looked like young teenagers.

The deeper I progressed into the magazine, the more erotic the images became. First there were men kissing their boys; then fondling their boys while kissing them; then kissing them with their hands down the boy's pants. The centerfold was a photo of the man and boy on the front cover. But this time the boy was naked and the man was pinching one of his nipples with one hand and squeezing the boy's erect cock with his other hand. My own cock was now stiff and throbbing and I realized that I was stroking myself while staring at this photo. This couldn't be right; not getting aroused by pictures of males playing with each other!

But I was mesmerized. I kept turning pages. The pages after the centerfold were so hot! Now there were photos of men sucking their boy's dicks and boy's sucking their men's huge penises. I was stroking harder and faster as I turned the pages. The last two pages were like another centerfold spread. It was the man and boy from the cover again. This time they were both naked. The boy was on all fours. The man was kneeling in back of him with his hands on the boy's hips and his cock half-buried in the boy's ass. There was a look of triumph on the man's face.

But it was the look on the boy's face that pushed me over the edge. It was a look of pure lust and passion and fulfillment. My eyes took it all in and then focused on the boy's cock. It was standing out hard and stiff and dripping cum. As my eyes went back to the boy's face I could no longer contain my own passion. I finished myself off, violently jacking my cock as I came and came and came! At that moment, I wanted to be the boy!

Sated, I pulled myself together and cleaned myself up and returned to the terminal. My parents were concerned about what took so long, but I deflected that and we made it home safe and sound. Intellectually, I knew that what I had experienced in the men's room was rather "gay." And "gay" was not accepted at that time in history. But I knew that I wasn't gay. I was just a young guy who got hard at the drop of a hat. I was sure that further exposure to things like that magazine would have no effect whatsoever on me. And just to prove it, I had stuffed the magazine in my carry-on bag and brought it home with me.

I didn't take it out until the second day home. My parents were both out of the house for a few hours and so I retrieved my new-found treasure and sat at my desk with it. As convinced as I was that it would have no effect on me, within a matter of minutes I was starting to sport an erection from looking at the dirty, filthy, oh so hot and erotic photos in that book. In no time at all my heart was racing, my cock was stiff and hard and throbbing and I was frantically fondling myself.

I came to the photo at the end of the book; the photo of the boy being fucked and enjoying it. His eyes seemed to bore into mine. They seemed to be saying: "Be me! Be me!" I came four times in the few hours that my parents were gone.

Of course, I knew that what was happening to me was not normal. And I was certain that it was just a fluke, a passing thing that wouldn't last. And to prove that to myself I looked at the magazine every day, multiple times a day. The pictures burned themselves into my mind and by the end of the week it was like I was addicted to that damned book. I pulled it out every chance I got and when I pulled it out I pulled my cock out too! Maybe it was just something about this particular book?

Maybe I should get another picture book to prove to myself that it was only these men and boys I was attracted to; not men and/or boys in general. And so I decided to get another magazine. On the back cover, there was an address for the store that had sold the book. It was right here in Chicago. In the Old Town section. I determined to go there the next day.

The Bookstore

Old Town was a pretty raunchy area in those days. It had a few nice restaurants and clubs; but a lot of it was XXX rated theaters, strip clubs, gay bars – and adult book stores. I found the book store that had sold my magazine. It was a bland, dark storefront with opaque windows and metal grating on the windows and door. I entered warily and was immediately confronted by a rather dirty, unkempt man sitting behind a four-foot internal wall to the right of the entrance.

"Hi boy, what you lookin' for?" He demanded.

"I . . .I just wanted to look at some magazines." I stammered.

"Can't let you boy. You gotta be at least eighteen or I lose my license if I'm caught with you in here."

"I . . .I am eighteen." I burbled and produced my ID.

"Well, okay, boy." The clerk smiled. "Magazines for boys like you are in the back of the store."

"Thank you, sir." I answered and hurried towards the back of the store.

I passed racks of magazines sporting naked women or hetero couples on the covers. There was a doorway to a separate room at the back of the store. The sign above the doorway read: "Gay and Lesbian Erotica." That clerk had just assumed by looking at me that I was gay! I ought to go back there and set the bastard straight! But then again, this is why I came here – to find out. No! To assert my heterosexuality by proving that these gay magazines wouldn't affect me!

I peeked my head inside the doorway. There was no one in the room. I glanced around furtively and then quickly entered the room. The room was long and narrow. There were racks on both of the long walls; books and VCR tapes (I told you this was the '70's!) on the back wall and magazines on the near wall. There was a very small section of lesbian magazines near the doorway. About two-thirds of the wall was filled with magazines of young men; alone, together, generally naked, generally performing sex acts. I picked up a few and glanced through them. Disturbingly, I began to get aroused by the pictures. Before I could get a full hard-on, I moved further down the wall.

The last third of the wall was magazines of older men with younger men. I stopped in front of one titled "Daddies & Twinks." I stared at the cover and my cock immediately went hard. The cover was similar to that of my first magazine. It depicted a Daddy standing behind his smaller twink. The Daddy's arms were around the twink. One hand cupped the boy's ass-cheek, obviously squeezing it; the other hand cupped the boy's cock and balls. The Daddy's mouth was buried in the boy's neck. The look on the boy's face was a combination of lust and fear. A caption screamed from under the photo: "This boy will be mine!"

With a slight groan, I removed the magazine from the rack with shaking hand. I was mesmerized! I began slowly turning pages. When I wasn't turning a page, my hand found its way between my legs, massaging my now erect cock.

After a while I realized that I was no longer alone in the room. There was a man in the room. An older man; maybe in his forties or fifties. I don't know; it's always been hard for me to tell people's ages. He was maybe five-eleven, stocky build, military-style crewcut. He was dressed in a suit and tie and had on an open trench coat. He smelled like he had taken a bath in Old Spice. I didn't know how long he had been there, but in a panic I realized that he might have seen me playing with myself. I avoided eye contact and grasped my open magazine with both hands, scared stiff and not moving a muscle.

He slowly worked his way down the wall till he was standing right next to me. I noticed the wedding ring on his finger as he pulled a magazine from the wall, looked at it a bit and then returned it. I was safe! This guy was married and probably just in this room because he was curious. But just as I was reassuring myself, he stood right up next to me and looked over my shoulder.

"Ah yes, that is a nice scene." He spoke softly as he pointed at the photo.

"I like the way this boy is kneeling in front of his Daddy and swallowing his Daddy's cock." He said as he put his arm around my back and rested his hand on my hip.

"Mmmm, this is a very pretty boy here." He remarked, turning the page in the book as he caressed my ass-cheek and then squeezed it.

"You're a very pretty boy. What's your name, boy?" He asked as he placed his other hand on my hip and moved directly in back of me.

"My . . . my name is Paul!" I gasped as his hand moved between my legs and began to massage my throbbing little cock.

"Mmmm, you feel so good; you smell so good, Paul." He said as he nuzzled my neck and then gently bit my ear lobe.

"Please, sir, we'll get caught." I begged and tried to pull away.

He pulled me back against him and wrapped his arms around me. I could feel his cock in the crack of my ass. It was hard and throbbing like mine, but felt much bigger than mine.

"Don't worry, baby. I know the owner. He likes to watch. He's probably staring at us in the mirror right now." The man whispered in my ear as one hand went back to my cock and the other began rubbing my chest and pinching my nipples through my shirt.

I hadn't realized that there was a mirror positioned at the doorway to allow the clerk to monitor the room. But there was nothing I could do about it now. I was feeling sensations I had never experienced before. My nipples were stiff and hard from the man's ministrations and my cock! Oh god, my cock was harder than it had ever been! I could hear moaning as I became more and more aroused. I realized that the moaning was coming from me! Then the man was unbuckling my belt and unzipping my jeans. They fell down to the floor and he pulled my briefs down to my knees.

"I'm sorry, you can't go back there." I heard the clerk say loudly to someone. "The gay area is closed temporarily, sir."

The clerk was watching! He could see! He was watching this man jack me off"

"You have such a pretty, little cock, Paul. Cum for me, baby. Cum for Daddy." The man urged as he jacked my throbbing penis.

"Oh noooo! Please, nooo!" I begged. But then the spasms took control of my body. My cock began to spit ropes of sperm as the man milked me till I was dry.

But he did not release me. He began to rub his torso against me and I could feel that big cock of his pulsing and throbbing against my ass. I braced my hands against the wall as he moved faster. Then he tensed up and came and I could feel his hot breath on my neck and the wetness of his pants against my ass. Then he released me and I almost collapsed.

"You're a cute piece of ass, baby." He smiled appreciatively as he buttoned his long topcoat to hide the wet spot on his crotch. If I weren't married, I'd take you home and fuck the shit out of you. You're gonna make some man really happy, honey." And then he patted me on the ass and turned and left.

I was putting myself back together when the clerk came into the room with a wet mop to clean up all the spunk I had sprayed on the floor.

"That was a nice show, twink." The clerk said. "But don't think you can come in here and do that regular. I don't wanna be turnin' customers away from this room like I had to do before. If you wanna get someone to play with you, go to one of the gay movie theaters down the street. There's always some action there."

"Th . . . thank you." I sputtered. "I . . . I'd better pay for this magazine."

"Nah, you can have it free, boy. The show was worth it."

I rolled up the magazine and ran out of the store.

The Date

Over the next few days, I spent a lot of time trying to convince myself that the encounter in the bookstore did not make me gay. The man in the trench coat had simply taken advantage of my sexual arousal caused by the magazine. Anyone could have caused me to climax in the state I was in. And I didn't resist him because I was petrified with fear.

Of course it took me awhile to admit that the whole situation happenedbecause of my arousallooking at the photos in the magazine. No matter how I tried to parse it, that cover photo of the man and boy had captured and aroused me and set me up for what was to follow. I also had to admit to myself that having the clerk/owner watching had been a turn-on.

But I simply had to set this right. So I did what was to me the most logical thing. I went on a date with Mary Lou Martin.

Mary Lou and I had graduated from high school together that June. She wasn't the brightest light bulb in the lamp, so she had been held back twice in grammar school, making her all of twenty years old at high school graduation. She also wasn't the prettiest girl in town. Her nose was rather large for her face and she had a tendency to go slightly cross-eyed. But she had a very shapely body and a pair of knockers that got the boys to drooling. Staring at them had always given me a quick hard-on. We had always gotten along pretty well in school and she had a reputation as a girl who would put out, so I wasn't too surprised when she agreed to go out with me.

Of course we went to the greatest invention of mid-twentieth century America – the drive-in movies. Or as my friends and I called it, the passion pit. And Mary Lou was appropriately dressed for the venue. She wore a pair of blue jean short-shorts and frilly, sleeveless white blouse that buttoned up the front. It was obvious that she was not wearing a bra. I got us popcorn and drinks which we consumed during the previews of coming attractions and the two cartoons that preceded the feature film.

When the feature came on, I moved the front seat back as far as it would go and Mary Lou nestled in close to me. Five minutes into the film we were locked in a close embrace, lips plastered together and tongues frantically licking at each other. Ten minutes in, I had her blouse unbuttoned and was kissing her ample bosom and nibbling on her pert, little nipples. Fifteen minutes in, my hand was down her shorts and my finger was sliding up and down her slit. Good gosh she was wet and slippery down there!

Then suddenly it all turned to shit. Mary Lou's hand found my crotch. She rubbed and squeezed, but my dick was flaccid. She unzipped my pants and inserted her hand into my briefs and began to squeeze and fondle my cock. But nothing was happening down there.

"What the fuck!" she exclaimed. "Is something wrong?"

"No." I answered sheepishly. "I . . . I don't know what's wrong. Maybe I'm just a little tired."

"Tired, my ass! You're not gettin' hard at all." She said as she insistently squeezed my cock.

"Please don't." I said as I removed her hand from my pants.

"You some kind of queer or something?" She demanded angrily.

"No. Let's just forget it for now and watch the movie."

"Watch the movie?! Watch the movie?! I didn't come her to watch no fuckin' movie! You take me home right now!"

We drove in silence. When I pulled up in front of her house, she quickly opened the car door and slamming it behind her ran into the house. I never saw Mary Lou Martin again.

Back home, in my room, I resolved to put an end to all of this nonsense. I was going to throw those damned magazines away and get back to some good old normal sexual stimuli. I got the magazines out of my desk drawer and dropped them on the desktop. My eyes were drawn to the photos on the covers. My cock immediately began to twitch to life. I was hard as a rock in a matter of seconds. With a groan of desperation, I surrendered to my urges and dropped my pants and sat down in front of those magazines and began to play with myself. I came quickly.