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  Steve
Posted by: WMASG - 11-15-2025, 07:43 PM - Replies (6)

   


I grew up in Greenfield, Indiana, which is part of Indianapolis. I went to s pretty large high school, and I knew there had to be other gay guys, but I had no way to know who, or the guts to try to find out. I had few friends and spent most of my time at home alone. I tried to hide what I was.
When I went into middle school, and had to change and shower, it was hell and heaven, both, at the same time. Before the first month was over, I was popping wood all the time in there. I couldn't help it. The weirdest thing was that when I did, almost everyone else did, too. I started to think that maybe it was normal. But on days when I didn't, it seemed like nobody else did. I noticed that. One day I wasn't all hard, but I thought about the bodies and dicks around me and made it hard, and by the end of showers, there were so many hard dicks again, it was like a plague.
On nearly the last day of high school, in the gym showers, Paul S. pushed me around and called me a fag, and I was just so fucking sick of it. I knew I was, and I'd hidden it for so long. I'd known since I was a little boy. The floor was wet, and I ended up slipping and falling on my ass. It hurt like hell. Worse was that I was on the floor and he was standing in front of me all naked and wet from the showers. I stared at his dick in front of me like a complete moron and I got hard before I even got back on my feet.
"You're a fucking faggot!" he yelled at me.
Like I said, I knew, and I was sick of pretending and hiding it. In a few days, high school would be over and I wouldn't have to deal with these assholes ever again.
"So the fuck what?" I yelled back.
"You're not even going to deny it?" he asked, all surprised and shit.
I stood up, carefully, with a sore ass.
"NO! I'm not. I am. I'm gay!"
I screamed it.
I turned and walked away, hoping that he wouldn't jump me from behind. He didn't, and I got to my locker safely. I dressed. No one talked to me. I didn't have many friends anyway. Hell, I didn't have any. I knew I was gay, so I kept to myself.
I wasn't talked to all day, which wasn't a big surprise. I wasn't talked to all through high school. Nearly no one had talked to me all four years of high school. I was pushed around a lot, and beaten up a lot. I stayed to myself as much as I could.
On the last day, at the end of the day, I was walking home. Four guys from the other end of my lunch table came up to me. It felt wrong.
They were nice, talking to me and smiling at me. They wanted to know how much guts it took to admit to being gay. Especially in the showers, naked, on the floor, big, tall, powerful Paul S. standing over me with a rager.
I told them it wasn't anything big. It just happened. They kept asking me questions. How long did I know I was gay? Did I have sex with anyone yet? Did I know anyone else who was gay? Did I like anyone? They smiled and seemed nice. It felt wrong.
They said they had wanted to talk to me before, but were too shy to before then. Now, with high school over, they wanted to talk to me before we all went to colleges or moved away and they never had the chance to.
It just felt wrong.
We got to the alley by the liquor store, and they grabbed me. One of them held my mouth closed so I couldn't open it to yell for help.
I was skinny, always was. I was wimpy, too. And I was swishy. You know, effeminate. Even one of them could have done what he wanted to me. All four of them had no problem.
They took me through a steel door into a dark building. Light came in one window, a shaft cutting through the dust suspended in the air which was being disturbed by our violent, noisy entrance. It shone down on the floor, littered with junk and trash. Old machines, covered in dust and cobwebs and a few counters and tables were all the things that remained from some time long past. I noticed all that as if it mattered and I wasn't being hauled in there to be beaten. I was thrown on a table or bench, something, and held down. I suddenly realized that they weren't going to beat me up. At least, not first. I was face down, and the light from the window was slanted across the floor nearly in front of me; it was sort of photogenic. I sort of felt apart. It was weird. I stopped fighting and gave up.
Someone shoved their dick in my mouth and said if I bit on it he would break my neck. He told me to suck it like the faggot I was, and if I did a good job to all of them, they might let me live.
I didn't give a fuck.
It was the first dick I had ever experienced, so I experienced it. He shoved it in too far and too often, but I did the best I could. I even sort of liked it. I liked how he smelled. That sort of drove me on.

Continue reading..

  Tyson C
Posted by: WMASG - 11-15-2025, 07:34 PM - Replies (1)

   


I grew up pretty normal. Nothing different than my friends. We lived in a small suburb of a major city in the mid-western US. It was separated from the major city by a few miles of mostly farms and a few patches of woods and a river. We had a mostly rural life, but the city was less than half-an-hour away by car. We could see the glow of the city lights at night and they obscured most of the fainter stars.

Our town had its own school system, including a newish high school. It was built with expansion in mind, so our classes were about twenty kids in a room. Gym class was about fifty boys and fifty girls, and there was no first period or last period gym classes. Lunch was split into three, and some kids went to a split class with lunch in the middle of it.

I had the normal amount of friends growing up, which expanded in junior high and grew even larger in high school. I was always good at sports, and I really loved baseball. I was a good batter, a fair pitcher, and a really good outfielder because I could throw the ball home from the outfield wall and not be off by more than a foot or so.

I hit puberty kind of early. By the end of sixth grade I was getting pubes and jerking off. Most of my friends then were still small and smooth down there. Yeah, we did some show and tell. It was interesting, for sure. In junior high, I got to see that I was well ahead of most of the guys in my class. I was more like some of the eighth-grade guys.

I dated a couple girls in junior high. I was a good looking guy with an athletic build, and I had no problems talking to girls. By the end of junior high I was no longer a virgin. I'd dated four girls and had some kind of sex with three of them. The last one, Kate, gave it all up pretty quickly. She didn't like to suck dick, but she had no problem giving up her pussy so long as I had a condom. I got them from my older brother.

So, high school was almost a breeze. I was popular, good looking, dating, getting laid, had a decent car, and had parents who made a good living. It was all good.

Then things got weird.

I'd always been just fine with gay guys. They didn't bother me and I didn't care. My friend Jason came out to me and a couple other of us close friends in ninth grade. We kept it quiet, like he asked. He didn't date anyone, being gay wasn't all that accepted yet, but at least it wasn't an automatic exile sentence anymore. He was the only gay guy I'd heard of in our school, possibly our entire town.

Jason tried to seduce me a couple of times. Let's just say it was a close call. I nearly went for it. He'd talked a good talk about it just being friends messing around. He claimed he could probably give better head than any chick for this and that reason. Good reasons, too. He was convincing. But it was just too weird. I liked girls. And Jason was a good friend. It was too weird to even think about. I told him no, but thanks, and I'm flattered, and all that. He was sort of let down, but, well, I just wasn't interested.

Continue reading..

  Walter
Posted by: WMASG - 11-15-2025, 07:29 PM - Replies (1)

   


My dad died when I was two, and I was raised as an only child. Mom was strict but loving. By the time I was eleven, I acted more like a girl than a boy. I didn't know it then, had no idea, but when I see myself in old home movies from when I was a kid, I was one big sissy. Almost my every movement and gesture screamed 'GIRLY-BOY!'
I had golden-blond, curly hair and blue eyes. I was small-statured and slight of build - I inherited that from my dad as well as my mom. I was small for my age and skinny. I was taking piano lessons, and was pretty good. And I was smart. And painfully shy. I had no friends. Some guys talked to me in school, other dorks and music geeks, but that was all, and only at school.
I spent my free time playing in my yard, mostly running around and pretending I was playing war or cowboys and Indians with lots of friends. Alone. I'd hide behind the big trees in my yard, or the garage, and shoot around the corner at imagined foes. Sometimes I kicked the ball against the garage for hours. When the weather was bad, I'd read inside on my bed. Mostly fiction about spacemen and monsters.
Playing in my front yard was risky, but the several trees were fun to run from, one to the other, pretending to duck and dodge incoming fire from the space aliens or the bad guys. More than once, Billy and Terry walked by, or rode their bikes past and saw me. They were both older than me and lived on the same block. They were best friends with each other, and they both loved to pick on me. Seeing those old home movies, I can see why. They liked to call me a girly-boy. Gays weren't as well-known back then
At eleven, I had no sexual references. I knew boys and girls were different, and when we got old enough we could make babies, and that boys and girls could fall in love, and such things. But I wasn't interested in any of that. It was all below my radar.
So, one summer day, when I was eleven and in sixth grade, and while mom was at work, I was playing in the front yard, ducking ray-gun fire, running tree to tree. It was hot on Venus, and fighting the evil Venusians was hard work, so I took a break and sat on the steps of the temple I was defending and leaned back to rest.
Someone kicked my foot. I sat up. It was Billy and Terry. I pulled my feet up and began worrying, and getting scared. They were both at least two or three years older than me, and in junior high.
"Hi, girly-boy," Billy said, and kicked my foot again, but harder.
"He'd make such a good girl. Pretty hair and pretty eyes," Terry said.
They smiled, but I didn't like their smiles at all.
"Ever see how much of a girl's butt he's got?" Billy asked Terry.
"Yeah. I bet he don't even have a peter."
"Do too," I said.
I regretted it instantly. I knew I should have kept my mouth shut, and if I said anything, it should have been to call for my mom as if she were home.
"Yeah, right. Bet you pee sitting down, don't ya, girly-boy?"
"No."
"Sure ya do. Probably gonna get tits this year," Terry said, making them both laugh.
"Go away."
I curled up tighter, wrapping my arms around my knees.
"No. Why don't you show us your girl's butt?" Billy said, kicking my foot again.
"No."
"Awww, come on, girly Wally. Show us your girly butt, and maybe we'll leave you alone."
"I don't have a girly butt."
I did, actually. The only part of me that wasn't skinny was my ass. In those old home movies, it was clearly very full and rounded. Sometimes mom couldn't afford new jeans for a while, and as they got tighter, my butt showed off more and more. There's one home movie taken in the back yard later that summer, with my two cousins who were visiting with their folks. Big, round, full ass in tight, worn jeans, and even at eleven, I had a package out front.
"Sure ya do. Big ol' girl's butt. Better than Alicia's, even," Billy said, kicking my foot again. "Come on, show us, and we'll leave you alone. Promise."
I knew you don't trust a bully when he says 'Trust me.'
"No. Leave me alone."
"Just stand up and turn around once. Then we'll leave you alone."
"No you won't."
"Do it, or we'll pound you," Billy said, then kicked my foot hard enough that it hurt.
"Just stand up and turn around and face the house. Then we'll go," Terry said.
I knew they would kick me in my ass. Or push me down and pound on me. Something. But I hoped that would be all. It would be better than them beating me up face-to-face.
So, I stood up, then turned away from them.
"That's a girl's butt," Billy said.
"No kiddin'. Look at that," Terry said.
I waited for the kick, or the punch to my back. It didn't come. But a hand came around and over my mouth, and another around my chest. And then Terry came around in front of me and picked up my feet. Then they carried me behind the house.
"Over there, between the garage and the fence," Billy said.
They carried me that way. I was skinny and small, and they were big, even for their ages, and they easily carried me to the dark, narrow space between the garage and the high wooden fence.

Continue reading..

  Wesly
Posted by: WMASG - 11-15-2025, 07:23 PM - Replies (1)

   


I grew up in a very small town. It was so small that we only had an elementary school. There were between ten and twenty kids in each grade, so each grade had it's own room and teacher. "Downtown" was the one-car police station where our one police officer could be found on weekdays between nine and five. There was a post office, which shared the same building with the water board, the electrical co-op office, and the mayor and city council. We had a volunteer fire department, which had a small fire truck, but any real fires were fought with the trucks from the nearest town that was almost twenty miles away and had two fire trucks. The rest of "downtown" was the hardware store, the little grocery store that also rented movies, and a pizza place that only delivered on Friday, Saturday and Sunday until eight - but at least it had some arcade games. That's about it. All surrounded by farms and open fields and small woodlands. There was a reservoir about ten miles away, and a river ran through town that was about fifty feet wide during the spring and just a few trickles among the rocks the rest of the year.
Naturally, my friends were the guys in my grade at school. Kids in the next grade were so much older it seemed, and the kids in the grade below were just little kids.
I was a pretty normal kid. I rode my bike with my friends, watched movies our folks rented from the grocery store, and played arcade games at the pizza place when we could get a few quarters. Todd and Bryce were my best buds, and Jake and Ryan and Mitch were my other friends. The other boys in my class were either brains/dorks or rich kids who thought they were too good to play with the regular kids. I liked playing baseball, but not as much as playing the arcade games at the pizza place. Todd and Bryce were the same. Jake, Ryan and Mitch were more into sports and such than the three of us were, but they weren't total sports-heads. Of course, in elementary school, jocks and dorks weren't firm cliques yet, but us boys were separated a bit by our likes.
So during the summer before sixth grade, when I was eleven, I was riding with Jake and Bryce out to the hills outside town where a bike trail of sorts was forged through the hilly woodlands there. It was fun to do, and every boy in town could be found there at some time or another. This was a hot summer day, and the sun was really bearing down, so getting into the shade of the woods was welcomed. There were a few other boys there already, some older, some younger, but we all managed to get along for the most part. We spent most of the day out there, riding and racing and having a good time.
Jake and Bryce wanted to go home about five, for dinner, but I wanted to stay longer, so they left. I rode some more, raced some more, and had a good time. Most of the rest of the boys went home about six or so. Most of the older boys that had been there when I arrived earlier had left, and some others had come throughout the day. Now it was all older boys, and I was the youngest still there. I knew I would probably get yelled at when I got home after being gone all day, especially if I didn't head home really soon and get there before dark. But I was testing those waters, if you know what I mean. I was already in trouble for missing dinner, which wasn't a huge deal.
So there I was, the only eleven-year-old out there, trying to keep up with the older boys. I couldn't, not with most of them. Then the other boys got worn out and went home. I was left with just one of older boys - one of the teenagers who weren't old enough to have a license, or that were but didn't have a car. I couldn't keep up with him, so I rode on my own and tried the more dangerous stunts on the bigger hills and ramps that I didn't want my friends to see me wipe out doing another day.
I had just tried one of the biggest dirt ramps and had wiped out, and was walking my bike back up the hill to the top. I had hurt my leg a bit and was limping some, when the last guy there, Caleb, came over the hill. I knew almost nothing about him. He was one of the high school guys, that was about all I knew. I think he fourteen or fifteen. Maybe sixteen without a car or something. Anyway, he saw me limping my way up the hill, and put his foot down into the dirt to stop next to me.
"Hey, little dude. Wipe out?"
"Yeah."
"You okay?"
"Yeah. Just about racked my nuts on the bar, but missed 'em," I laughed.
He laughed too, then said, "Yeah, I've racked the ol' balls a few times out here. You gotta learn to lean to one side. Better yet, try to fall over when you're gonna land bad. Ya know?"
"Yeah."
"You gonna try again?"
"Nah. I think I banged my ass on the bar enough today. Gonna head home."
"Oh. Too bad."
"Why?"
"Well, I was gonna show you something."
"What?"
"Well, you wanna see how I keep from racking my nuts on the bar?"
"How?"
"Come on, I'll show ya."
I followed him up the hill, and then he left it and went into the trees.
"Where ya goin'?" I asked.
"To the cave," he told me over his shoulder.
Cave? That sounded too cool to pass up, so I followed him. Actually, I ended up walking alongside him once we got into less dense trees.
"How far is it?"

Continue reading..

  Will
Posted by: WMASG - 11-15-2025, 07:19 PM - Replies (1)

   


I was sixteen. It was the middle of tenth grade. I'd known I was gay since about thirteen. The showers in seventh grade proved it. I'd had crushes on guys ever since. My few friends had no idea. I hoped.
I was a thin, short little dork. Not very popular and not very outgoing.
My latest crush was Walter. He was an American Indian, for the most part. Brown-skinned with black hair and black eyes. A little on the chubby side, but not fat at all. Just not skinny at all. Some muscles, for sure. He was taller than me, too. Definitely stronger. He wasn't a bully, but he wasn't prey either. Just an average dude who liked baseball and was on the team.
And he was in my gym class. I'd seen him naked and wet plenty. And I'd looked, too. Too often. He'd spotted me at least a half-dozen times. But he never did anything about it. He didn't look angry at me, either. So I liked to look more often. On the sly. Never wanted to be caught at it, ya know?
One day, he was walking past as I was under the shower head, and I turned to have a look as he approached, and again as he walked away. He had a nice bush of black hair above a nice fat cock. It didn't look very long, but it sure had some girth. He had a nice set of balls, too. Having brown skin, his sack was darker brown, and his fat cock was almost as dark as his sack. The head of that cock looked so plump and juicy. I mean, it was just plain impressive. How could I not look? And his ass was just awesome. Juicy too. Plump and round and full. Even his chest was nice. Firm pecs with nice pinkish nipples and a little hair. His abs weren't flat, but he didn't have a gut either. He was solid and firm all over. Including his strong legs, which had a nice growth of black hairs below the knees.
I looked as he walked away, and he turned around and saw me looking. I turned away and finished my shower.
I was home after school, doing homework like the good little nerd I was. The doorbell rang. My few friends didn't come over that early on school days, so I wondered who it was as I headed downstairs and to the front door. When I opened it, there was Walt.
My guts imploded.
I knew I was about to get a severe beating. My folks wouldn't be home for almost two hours. I started to slam the door shut. He pushed it open easily and walked inside. He closed the door behind him and locked it.
I knew I was so dead.
"Your folks home?" he asked.

Continue reading..

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