Confession of a Boy Lover – Chapter 5
I flipped between two articles, trying to figure out why two respected investment advisors were advocating entirely different strategies for a particular tech giant’s stock. Disagreements in buying, selling or holding strategies are common in my industry, the devil, though, is in the details.
In the living room, I heard death raining from the surround sound speakers. Jem used his birthday money, plus a bit more that I kicked in under the table, to buy a PlayStation. His mom didn’t let him hook it up in their living room, so Jem brought it over here and played it as often as he could. And while there had been no more sleep-overs since the beginning of the summer, he was still over here a few times a week.
When the doorbell chimed, I set the two articles aside. I’d figure out later what games those investors were pursuing. Jem was still smashing buttons as I walked past. Donna was at the door.
“Hi Donna,” I said as I waved her into the entryway, “You need Jem?”
Donna came in. Her hair was slightly mused from the current heat-wave. We didn’t get many, but now and then the temperature would soar into the nineties. “N-, no. Jem is playing one of his games?”
I nodded. She leaned against the wall and tears streamed down her cheeks, “H-, he’s at it again, Jack.”
I hadn’t seen Wes’s car when I let her in. It was a Friday, so I figured he might be at work on campus. “Wes?”
She nodded as more tears came. Then she leaned forward until she was hugging me, soaking my shirt with her tears, “Oh, fuck, Jack. Why does he do this to me? I thought we could fix things. I even thought he was making an effort. What a fucking bastard.”
I didn’t know what to do. I patted her on the back, “I’m really sorry, Donna. I really was pulling for you. You deserve a guy who’ll treat you right.”
Donna’s posture changed, and I felt her body meld itself to me. I became more aware of her breasts through the skimpy summer blouse she wore. She said, “Thanks, Jack. You’ve been a genuine friend since we moved in.” She tilted her head up, and her lips found mine. I blanked out. Aside from a couple of first-date kisses in college, I haven’t touched a woman’s lips in more than a decade.
My initial reaction, which was involuntary, was to respond to the kiss, but as I tasted the saltiness of her tears, I froze up. Then she pulled back with even more tears, “Oh, fuck! What the fuck’s wrong with me, coming onto my gay neighbor?”
Gay neighbor? My face had to have betrayed my shock. I said, “Hey, Donna, it’s okay. Life’s fucked up right now, and I guess your feelings got the best of you. Actually, I’m kind of flattered you kissed me.”
She had turned a bright shade of red, “I’m so fucking sorry, Jack. I just assumed you were gay. I’ve never seen women over here. But come to think of it, not any guys either.”
I took her by the hand and led her into the kitchen, “No worries. I’m just not in the market to date right now. I got my heart crushed pretty bad a couple of years before moving to Boulder. I guess I haven’t found anyone since then because I’ve not been looking.”
Donna shook her head, “And here I go and kiss you. I’m a fucking idiot.”
I shook my head, “No, you’re pissed and upset because Wes had fucked up big time.”
I got her a beer from my fridge. As she calmed down and dried her eyes, I said, “You thought I was gay?”
There was still some color in her cheeks, “You’re not?”
I managed to avoid looking into the living room where we could still hear Jem playing. I shrugged, “But you’ve been letting Jem hang out over here a lot. Why would you let him hang out and be friends with some guy you think is gay?”
Donna’s eyes traveled to the living room. We could just see the top of his strawberry blond hair from where we sat. “I know he’s still young. But there are days when I wonder if Jem will come out of the closet when he’s twelve or thirteen or if he’ll hide his attractions until he’s in college.”
I was stunned at Donna. “How can you know? He probably doesn’t even know.”
Donna took a long drag at the drink, “Call it mother’s intuition.”
I wondered about that mother’s intuition. If it were real, there’d be no way she’d trust her boy to me. My own feelings for Jem had always been complicated. But I wondered how I could resist his boyish charms as he neared puberty.
I subtly shook my head, “I guess so,” Then leaning forward until my head was close to hers, in a voice no louder than a whisper, I said, “I don’t understand, Donna. If you think Jem and I are both gay, why do you let him hang out with me so much?”
Donna said, “I’ve always got a good vibe from you, Jack. You’ve got a good heart and I know you’d never do anything to hurt Jem. Also, if you hadn’t noticed, he doesn’t make friends easily, but he adores you. And unless you missed how badly I fucked up by kissing you, I do too.”
I was a bit taken aback by Donna’s emotional admission. I blushed a bit, “Eh, don’t worry about the kiss. What’s one between friends? It means a lot that you trust me with Jem. I’ve probably come to adore him just as much.”
Donna finished the beer. “I better get on back to the house. I’ve probably said too much or too little.”
I felt a bit too warm as I stood, “I’ll get Jem.”
Her hand reached out, grabbing me, “Don’t.”
I felt perplexed by the emotional rollercoaster she was on, “Okay?”
She headed toward the door. When I opened it for her, she said, “I need some alone time this weekend. Maybe even go perving for some guys who aren’t my gay neighbor.”
I flushed at the comment, but didn’t contradict her. She said, “I know it’s sudden, but do you mind if Jem spends the weekend with you?”
I found myself nodding before I even knew it. “You know, he’s always welcome.”
She gave me another hug, and even though I felt her breasts pressing against me, I knew she wasn’t doing it for me. She bit her lip, and I could see some kind of internal conflict. She took a step, then turned back, “I know I’m right about my son, Jack. I really hope you’re still in his life when he finally comes out of the closet. He’ll need you more then than even now.”
With that, she turned and walked back across the street. I turned and went back into the house. Jem was sitting on the couch, his game paused. “Was that Mom?”
He grimaced, “She thinks Dad’s cheating again.”
I collapsed on the couch next to him, “What do you think?”
Jem’s naturally rosy cheeks flared dark red as tears threatened to spill down his face. His next words shocked me, “He’s been fucking Aunt Cindy since right after he and Mom went to that marriage retreat.”
Jem had never used any profanity in my presence. When the tears spilled over, he flung himself into my arms and I pulled him onto my lap and I held him as he cried. I understood how he felt. His parents’ marriage was over in all but name. Even the stability of the summer was nothing but a façade.
After a while, I said, “Your mom asked me if it was okay if you stayed over tonight and tomorrow. Is that okay with you?”
The tears dried up fast as he looked up at me with a genuine smile, “Really? You said yes. Right?”
My arms went around his back and I gave him a big hug, “Of course, buddy.”
After a few minutes, Jem asked me to come with him while he grabbed some stuff. I had been in the Nelson’s house a few times, but this time, it felt less like a house and more like a mausoleum of Donna and Wes’s marriage. Donna was on the phone at their kitchen table when we came in. She waved as we went by. This was the first time I saw Jem’s room. Before, I have always treated it as off limits.
There was a large painting of a rainbow reflecting off some clouds with the Rocky Mountains as a backdrop. There weren’t any clothes scattered around, and even his bed was made. There were even a couple of stuffed animals in one corner. Jem grabbed his backpack from the closet and loaded it with some changes of clothes and white utilitarian underwear.
The room felt little like what you’d expect a ten-year-old boy’s room should look like. Not that it looked like a girl’s room. Just something unique to Jem. After a couple of minutes, he said, “All packed.”
Donna was off the phone when we came back toward the door. She waved us over and gave Jem a hug and then caught me off guard by giving me just as big a hug. “That was my friend Wanda. She’s in Aspen. She invited me to come stay with her for the weekend, and dammit, I think I’m going to do it.”
I nodded, “That’s the spirit, Donna. Take care of yourself.”
She said, “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. But would it be a problem if Jem stays through Monday?”
As I shook my head, I said, “What about Wes?”
Donna spat, “Fuck that bastard. He’ll be holed up with my whore of a cousin until then, I suspect.”
With that, I took Jem by the arm and beat a hasty retreat. Things between Donna and Wes were even worse than I thought, now that she was willing to run her soon-to-be-ex down in Jem’s presence.
Back in my house, I said, “Well, roommate, what do you want to do?”
Jem glanced toward my office, “Are you finished for the day?”
I thought about the articles I had been reading. I wasn’t in the right frame to come back to them yet. “It’ll be there Monday.”
“Cool, can we play on the PS?”
Jem schooled me on a couple of his games and before we knew it, the sun was going down and we still hadn’t eaten. With this responsibility suddenly thrust on me, my dinner selection was nearly nonexistent. Still, it wasn’t something pizza delivery couldn’t take care of.
With the pizza on the coffee table in front of us, we put something on Jem wanted to watch. After a few pizza slices, he turned off the TV and said, “Um, Jack, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, bro. What’s on your mind?”
Whatever was on his mind had him embarrassed. He chewed at his lip before he said, “I know you said I should talk to my dad about, you know, stuff. But … I can’t do that. Is it okay to talk to you?”
I rocked back. The last thing I wanted to do was say something to drive a wedge between Jem and Wes. On the other side of that coin, Wes was doing a good job doing that on his own. I said, “Well, you should feel able to talk with him about stuff. But yeah, buddy, if you want to talk about stuff, you can ask me anything.”
He went back to chewing on his lip for a moment. Whatever it was, he needed to work up the courage. He tilted his head as if looking at me differently, “Mom says that you’re, um, gay.”
My eyes widened, surprised to hear the same accusation twice within a few hours. The funny thing about progressive people like Donna is that having a gay friend is almost a badge of honor; their way of saying, “See, I support you.” Letting her believe I like other men was a simple misdirect. I felt a kindred spirit with Jem, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to give him the same misdirect. But the truth wasn’t something I was willing to share, even with this wonderful and perceptive boy.
“She thinks I’m gay? Wow. Okay. What do you think?”
He kept tilting his head one way and then the other, studying me. “I dunno. I guess it’s possible.”
“Would that bother you?”
His lips curled at the ends as he shook his head, “No. If you were, I think that’d be cool.”
Cool? Not the answer I expected. “Oh? Why’s that?”
Jem glanced furtively toward the front door, as though half-expecting to see someone overhear our conversation. Then he turned back and moved back against me, “Jack, can you promise to keep a secret? I know you’re an adult and adults tell kids they’ll keep a secret, and then if they think they’ve got to tell someone, then they break their promise.”
It was my turn to cock any eyebrow at him. “Jem, the last time you stayed over here, and you slept in my bed, what did I tell you?”
Jem answered right away, “That it was something my mom wouldn’t approve of.”
I said, “I think we’re both pretty good at keeping each other’s secrets, don’t you?”
He flushed as he grinned, “Yeah. I guess so. So, you promise, right?”
I held up my hand, “I promise, Jem.”
He leaned forward, “I think I’m gay.”
One point for Donna’s intuition. I said, “Are you sure? Most ten-year-olds aren’t interested in girls or boys.”
He shrugged, “Not sure. But I think so. This summer, when mom took me to the pool. I saw several other boys in the showers, um, you know, naked. I got a funny feeling in my stomach and well, I wanted to look more.”
I said, “It’s okay if you are, Jem. It’s okay if you aren’t. Either way, it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
He smiled coyly, “How do you feel about me?”
I reached an arm around him and squeezed him in a bear hug, “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a very long time.”
When I let go the hug, he settled into my lap, and said, “Do you love me?”
I wrapped my arms around him. Instead of another bear hug, I just drew him into my chest, “Yeah, Jem. I love you.”
His hands wrapped around mine, “Cool. I love you too, Jack.”
While I wasn’t sure what had just happened, Jem turned the TV back on and we watched a couple of cartoons before I saw it was getting late. After Porky Pig told us that’s all folks, I said, “Alright, I think it’s about time to get ready for bed. You need a bath?”
Still in my lap, Jem said, “Will you give it to me?”
Even though I knew I needed to back away, I also knew I was hopelessly smitten with Jem and I was willing to tread back into dangerous waters. I asked, “Your mom still giving you baths?”
He shrugged, “She still bathes me. But I can tell she would rather not.”
I said, “I know she told you last time that it was okay if you wanted me to give you a bath. Did you tell her?”
Jem shook his head, “No. She asked about it once, and I told her I didn’t take a bath that night.
Surprised, I said, “You lied to her?”
He craned his neck around until our eyes connected, “I figured it was like sleeping in your bed. Our secret.”
Somewhere deep inside me, I hated myself for falling more in love with Jem right then. I said, “Okay. Well, if we’re going to get your bath, we best get busy.”
With him sitting in my lap, it was easy enough to pull his T-shirt over his head. “You want to head to the bathroom now?”
Jem giggled, “I bet you can’t get the rest of my clothes off with me sitting here.”
My arms were already around his torso, “You’re on, big buy.”
Jem wore a pair of athletic shorts, with a drawstring to keep it tight. I lifted him up and grabbed the waist band from the back and tugged on them until his shorts were midway down his thighs. Then, when he stopped squirming, I slid them the rest of the way down and off.
Having him sitting in my lap in nothing more than his underwear was a moment of erotic pleasure. And I felt myself growing inside my jeans. I leaned against his ear, “What do you want, Jem?”
He leaned his head back against my shoulder, “You can take it off, if you want, Jack.”
He didn’t squirm or wrestle about as I lifted his bottom off my lap with one hand and with the other, I tugged until his underwear slid down his legs. His little penis was pointing straight up, hard as a rock. His hands rested on his thighs, although ready to cover himself. But they didn’t.
With that, I picked him up and had him stand, “Come on, big guy, let’s get you that bath.”
Running the water was easy enough and once it was full enough, Jem sat down in the water. He seemed truly okay with me seeing his erect little cock. Curious about it, I said, “Jem, how do you handle things when this happens with your mom?”
He shook his head, “It doesn’t happen very often. But when it does, I cover it.”
“Why are you so chill about it with me?”
He shrugged, “I dunno. I just am. Last time, you told me we all get them. Then I saw yours in when we peed. Also, I…” his voice faded away, until he whispered, “Do you like seeing me like this?”
I should have lied. Instead, as I ran my soapy hands down his back, I said, “Yeah, bro.”
In the same near whisper, he said, “Me too.”
Once finished with his back, I said, “Lay back in the water and I’ll get your front.”
Jem slid his feet toward the drain and his head toward the back of the tub. He looked gorgeous, lying in the tub, exposing himself to me. Over the previous two months, he’d grown a bit. I guessed he was about four feet five inches. His marvelous penis still looked to be around two inches when stiff, as he certainly was.
I pulled the shower curtain back all the way and bent over the tub to reach his shoulders. As I moved down to his chest, he splashed some water at me, drenching my shirt. I knew the game he played, yet I felt powerless to stop it. I pulled my shirt off and worked my way down his stomach and abdomen, only stopping when I reached his pubic area.
Then switched down to his feet. As I worked my way up, I didn’t stop when I reached his knees. Nor did I stop when I reached his thighs. I only stopped when I touched his immature scrotum. Then I said, “Well, we just about got you clean. Can you finish yourself up?”
This time, Jem shook his head, “Can you finish me?”
With his invitation, my fingers, still slick with soap, cupped Jem’s little balls, caressing them gently. Then, as lightly as I could, I encircled his little penis and stroked him a few times, lathering his erection with soap. I also soaped up his hips and thighs, this time, not bothering to stop, happily and gently touching his erection. Once done, I said, “Okay, buddy, I think we’ve got you pretty well clean.”
Jem sat up with a silly grin on his face that he kept sending my direction. I’m sure I would have felt guilt and remorse if I wasn’t so fucking horny myself.
After washing his hair, I picked him up. At sixty pounds soaking wet, he was light. I wrapped him in a towel and set him on my lap as I towel dried his hair and then rubbed him dry over the rest of his body. This time, I didn’t hesitate to touch his stiffy through the towel. At that point, I was all-in, I figured.
When I had him stand, he was still naked, and he stood, turned around and wrapped his arms around my neck, kissing my cheek affectionately. Absentmindedly, I couldn’t help wondering how Donna would feel if, instead of her fifteen- or sixteen-year-old came out of the closet, instead, her ten-year-old did. Somehow, I didn’t imagine it would go well for me.
I grabbed his underwear and said, “Come on, you little nudist, let’s get you into these.”
Once he was dressed in his underwear, Jem settled down a bit with the overt and sexual affection. As I headed over to the door, I said, “I guess there’s no reason even pretending with setting up the couch tonight?”
Jem giggled, “Nope.”
Once we were in my bed, I put some Cartoon network show on and then stripped down to my underwear.”
Once I pulled the covers up, he moved over until we were touching. After a moment, he slipped his head between my arm and my chest, resting on my chest. A few minutes passed until he said, “Jack, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, bro. What’s on your mind?”
“Can I see your, um, thing?”
I hadn’t expected that. Although if he were indeed gay, then a request to see my boner shouldn’t be a surprise.
I said, “Thing? What thing?”
He dug his elbow into my ribs, “You know, your, um, penis?”
I was beginning to wonder if he knew the correct name. I already knew my answer by now. And I didn’t have it in me to torture out my response. “You want me to pull my underwear down and let you see me?”
He nodded, “Yeah. I can pull mine down too, if you want.”
I had already seen and touched him. Although it was endearing how far he would go to see me. I said, “Okay, bro.”
I pulled the covers down to the end of the bed and then pulled my underwear down to my ankles. I figured in for a penny, in for a pound. After all the touching I’d already done, I was hopelessly wound up. I even had a bead of pre-cum on my slit.
Not to be outdone, Jem slid his underwear down to his ankles. We propped our backs up with our pillows and Jem leaned over me, looking at my modest manhood. After a moment, he used a finger and touched it, running a finger from my glans, down past my circumcision scar, all the way down to my base and the smattering of pubic hair. “Cool,” he said.
His finger found the bead of pre-cum on my tip and he rubbed his finger around, causing my glans to become slick. “Wow, is this the stuff babies are made from?”
I sighed at his delicate touch, “No. That’s a lube our bodies make.”
Jem grabbed his stiffy in his hand, “Mine doesn’t do that.”
I gave him another hug, “Not yet, but give it time and it’ll happen.”
With that encouragement, he played around with my erection for a couple of minutes until I was sure he knew nothing about masturbation. While I had a growing awareness Donna wouldn’t mind if I explained about masturbation to Jem, I was equally sure she wanted that conversation to wait another year or two and not involve mutual exploration.
But when he said, “How do you make the stuff babies are made from come out?” I knew Donna’s concerns weren’t mine or Jem’s.
“Let me show you,” I said as I gripped my erection. Then I moved my fist up and down on my dick, enjoying the tingling that started in my balls and then went to my shaft.
After a moment, I moved my hand out of the way, and with no words exchanged, Jem’s smaller fingers wrapped around my shaft. Were I larger, I don’t think he could have wrapped his entire hand around me. But when he started moving his hand just as I did, I really didn’t care if he could fully encircle me or not. The feeling of his hand on my dick felt so much better than mine, even though he was inexperienced.
I let him go on for a minute or so, as the pressure in my balls built. My voice strained through the rising tide of my pending orgasm, “Watch out, Jem. I’m about to shoot my baby makers!”
To Jem’s credit, his fingers didn’t stop moving, even when my penis spasmed in his hand and a glob of cum shot into the air and landed on my chest. The rest of my orgasm landed lower on my abdomen or ran down Jem’s fingers.
When he pulled his hand away, the stickiness of my semen made it appear Jem had webbing between his fingers, “That was freaking cool, Jack.”
The feeling of my orgasm at Jem’s hand reminded me so much of my time with Mark, even though eight years separated the occasions. I said, “Yeah, for you and me, both.”
I grabbed my underwear and used them to mop up my seed and grabbed a couple of tissues for the boy’s fingers. As he was cleaning his hand, Jem said, “Can you do that to me?”
His quivering two inches called to me as clearly as a siren’s horn beckons sailors. I said, “I can, bro. But you don’t make that stuff yet.”
Jem nodded, “I know, Jack. But the way you moaned and the look on your face, I want the same thing.”
I wrapped my thumb and forefinger around his little boner and, as gently as possible, jacked on his erection. It didn’t take long for Jem to moan in pleasure. I kept working on him, sliding my fingers over his incredibly hard boner. A couple of minutes had passed when Jem’s eyes shot open, “Oh, shoot, I gotta pee!”
I sped the motion on his erection, “That’s normal, sport. Just ride it out, and you’ll like the result.”
A couple of dozen strokes later, Jem went rigid as his first orgasm washed over his body. His little erection spasmed over and over again, trying to ejaculate what wasn’t there. When his dick finally stopped jerking about, I took my hand off his two inches and said, “What do you think?”
Jem had a hazy and blissful look on his face, “F-, fuck!” he managed.
Then, as he came off his orgasmic high, he added, “Wow, Jack. I wish you’d shown me that the last time you gave me a bath. That was freaking awesome.”
I got up and grabbed clean underwear from my chest of drawers, “I don’t know if you were ready back then. I know for sure, I wasn’t.”
As he pulled his underwear back up, he said, “Because it’s a secret. Is that it?”
I nodded, feeling the post orgasm tiredness creeping up on me. “What do you imagine would happen to me if you told them what we did?”
Even though I could see his eyes growing heavy, Jem shook his head, unwilling to say the words, “Nothing. Because I would never tell. Not anyone at school, not Mom or Dad. Nobody.”
The guilt of what I’d done was settling heavily on me. But what I did was done. I couldn’t undo the molestation. Jem seemed happy. And I hoped with every fiber in my being as I drifted off that he would always feel the same way.
Copyright 2021 – Caliboy1991
All rights reserved
Wow! So much happened to bring us to this first time. I can picture it in my mind, but I can’t imagine what it must be like to have sex with an awesome ten-year-old boy like Jem. I think there are so many of us men out here in internet-land that get relief by jacking off to these stories and reading some of our favorite parts over and over again. I had a huge bolt of pleasure run through me in this chapter near the end when Jack said that what was done was done, and he could not undo the molestation. It’s hot to read that because the thought of masturbating a ten-year-old boy’s cock, knowing that it’s molestation and you could get caught, makes it super risky but also super sexy. I wish we could do these things, but in a nice way like Jack is and without hurting anyone. Just think of what it would be like to meet a ten-year-old boy and bring him home to fuck that same night. And have it all be completely legal. Nice, hot, tight pre-teen asses and total smoothness between their legs. How fun would it be to drive around with your 10 or 11-year-old boyfriend naked? Drive down the road with that young, hot mouth sucking on awesome adult cocks, and his beautiful little boy body—totally naked—-laying across the seat with his ass sticking up while he masturbates himself and gives head at the same time. And then the grand finale: Having the boyfriend take the adult boyfriend bareback in his ass. When the man is finished cumming inside him, he pulls out sees the gaping hole his giant cock left in the kid’s ass, as his stretched hole leaks cum. I’d go down on his ass right there on the spot and clean up my cum with my tongue and mouth, and then flip him over and give him a nice, deep, cum-kiss where we swap my cum and our combined spit back and forth a few times until the boy asks for it all because he wants it inside him.
But all of that, of course, is fantasyland. I wish it wasn’t. Maybe someday the age of consent will be lowered to 14 and there won’t be restrictions on us like there are now. Does anyone out there who is reading this now, understand why we love boys? I would love to hear from someone about what their life is like. My life has been phony for as long as I can recall. I just say that I’m gay to keep away the friends who try to set me up with women. Then I get asked why I’m not dating men if I’m gay? How do I answer that? How do you guys answer it? I can’t date women or men–it does nothing for me. But I can’t take my eyes off of middle school and high school boys. I’ve never touched one and I’ve never come close to touching one. The punishment is so severe that life would become useless and so very difficult. It’s hard enough now! But sites like this (thank you, thank you, thank you!) allow me to read these stories and pretend it’s me sucking on a kid’s 3-inch cock. And I would give almost anything to give a blowjob to a middle school student with a perfect body, circumcised 5-inch penis, “whispies” only, and the ability to shoot a good load. I wonder what it feels like to have a kid cum in your mouth? Or another fantasy that works for me also. I’d pay anything to be able to watch two 6th or 7th graders have sex. No condoms, full-on bareback sex between a boy and a girl. And to be able to watch him put his middle-school cock into the immature pussy of his 6th-grade classmate. Just picture that young ass bouncing up and down as his bare cock goes in and out of a 6th-grade girl’s pussy. Heck, that’s common these days with kids recording everything they do on their phones. If I only knew how to get a copy of a video like that! Or any visual stimuli to maybe satisfy my urges, but I can’t risk it which is why I love the stories on these Jason Crow pages. Thank you so much! And thank you for allowing me to write what I’ve been thinking for years. I know that there are lots of others out there just like me, and we live pretty crappy lives. Not because of money or status—I’m fine in that department. But I am a human being who will go through life with this incredibly strong urge that I can never do anything about. It is torture. Absolute torture. Thank you for allowing me to comment, and I hope that maybe someone liked the little blurb that I wrote here and it gave you a few minutes of pleasure and relief. That would be cool! Thanks.
I commend you on being completely upfront about the things that make many of us tick. Your comment is a testimony of the frustration that likely afflicts more people than will ever admit, and speaking about these feelings in a forum, even anonymously, is kind of hard to do.
Like you, I seem to have little attraction to adult men or women. It isn’t just that I don’t prefer mature physical bodies, it’s also the “maturity” of adults’ personalities is much less alluring to me than the comparative innocence of children. I don’t doubt that the thrill of engaging in sexual behaviour as a child, given its “forbidden” quality, would be very intense, and I very much desire the ability to know what underage sexuality is like, up close and personal. To see, hear, feel, smell, and taste the experience, completely … it would be a dream come true.
That said, I have to argue the “other side” of this frustration, and how a fellow pedophile views this struggle.
Personally, I agree with all current laws (and social stigma) that forbids adults from interacting sexually with children. With the obvious exception for things like an 18-year-old should be able to be with a 17-year-old, there are simply too many risks of abuse and coercion when an adult and a child have a sexual relationship. I’m sure it’s true that many children could (and do) participate in fully consensual relationships with adults, relationships that don’t harm the children currently or in the future. But the existence of these examples cannot be allowed to grant permission for such relationships to be legitimized or legalized. There is simply too much evidence of it being generally a very bad idea. Far too many children are scarred by being subjected to sexual activity that they were unprepared for, and lack the maturity to handle well. It’s bad enough when such damage occurs between children, but at least in that case all parties were similarly unprepared and ignorant of how to behave in a sexual context. There’s no excuse when it is an adult who is prioritizing his/her own pleasure above the safety and well-being of a child.
Just because we are wired this way, to feel sexual pleasure only from children and not from adults, does not ever give us the right to indulge in pursuing this pleasure. To draw an analogy, imagine you are an extreme sadist, that you only experience pleasure from torturing and dismembering someone who is screaming in pain the entire time. You are not permitted in any sane society to experience this pleasure, even if you found someone who consented to (and even claimed to desire) that outcome.
I view my urge to be a cross that I must bear, and frankly so must you. I read (and occasionally write) fictional erotica in this realm because I enjoy it, and I stoutly oppose any attempts to restrict the legality of this form of free speech. Fictional stories are a form of escapism for us, no different from someone who reads a slasher horror story, and is not transformed into a serial killer in real life. But participation in any form of “real” child porn (including possession) is, IMHO, always unjustifiable. It sucks that this limits our ability to engage in a sexually pleasurable life that most other people take for granted, but it is what it is. I hope you can make peace with that fact. I don’t think it’s wise to be yearning for the day that you could finally have sex with a young boy, if not for the simple reason that you fear the consequences of being punished for doing so.
I couldn’t agree more!! The Slasher / Torture analogy is spot-on IMHO. You can think about, but acting on it, is always wrong.
I’m not judging Joe here! Not at all!! I feel his pain and I can relate to his struggles too. I fantasize about these things too. And then I write it down, so it’s out of my system. To me, this is a way to cope with it, although I don’t feel the yearning to do anything with it so strongly. Yes, I like looking at a handsome, boxer or swimsuit-clad, thirteen-year-old boy or girl!! I like looking at them a lot! But I don’t feel the urge to undress him or her, or have sex. That idea pops into my head later when I let my mind drift. I imagine how it would be, and make up a potential backstory which sporadically make it to my site. But that’s pretty much it.
The forbidden part of such act, is also an issue. Some, if not most, people get their kicks from doing something illegal. I compare it a bit with the cookie jar when I was younger. When my mom told me I couldn’t have one, I was mad. But when I secretly stole one and ate it, it tasted amazing. The next day, when I was allowed to take one, the cookie wasn’t all that great; the added tension of doing something naughty was gone. I’m afraid that something like this is true for the issue we’re discussing here.
I don’t see myself as a pedophile, but as a Hebephile. Although it’s not an official acclaimed term, the Wikipedia page with the description suits me way better than the term pedophile. In essence, this difference doesn’t matter. No matter how you look at it, they’re both bad things to act on. We know what we are and that we are wired this way. But the main reason for us not to act on it, should be the intrinsic motivation to not act. The motivation shouldn’t be the potential punishment and awful jail time.
To keep up with the horror agologie, I like reading a good psychological horror thriller! To me, it’s the same as reading stories like the ones on my site. I can’t write horror stories, but I can write about the things I like.
I enjoy a nice, civil discussion about this as much as any. So please, feel free to react!