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When I Was A Kid
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Gay Male / 46
Learning To Read Poems And To Understand Myself A Bit More
Our town was small, with one high school. If you were a boy who needed a certain type of attention there were limited opportunities. Maybe you found another boy like you, maybe you mowed the lawn for the man down the street, or maybe like me you went looking for it in unexpected places.
I was a senior and our English teacher gave an assignment to read poems, any book, as long as it was poems and you had to write a report, worth 30% of your final grade. I hated poems, I always did and I always will.
My mother was a reader and she suggested I go down to the B&B bookstore and talk to Alfred the owner and see if he had something he could recommend. The store was quiet that afternoon without any other customers and he asked me a lot of questions, about what I liked and didn't like. He got a book and opened it to a poem and told me to sit at this table and read the poem and we could talk about it.
I tried but I couldn't get into it, he stood behind me rubbing my shoulders, leaning over me pointing out this set of words and that set of words. I could feel his breath on my neck and his hands all over my shoulders and down my chest. I tried to read but I couldn't. He stopped and sat beside me, like a piano teacher does, and he read the poem out loud. He whispered to me that it was a love story of one soldier to another during the Great War, telling me that boys could love each other.
He got up and closed the blinds and put the closed sign on the door and came over and sat beside me and asked me if there was any particular boy I loved. Loving a boy is natural, as natural as the rain, or the fishes in the pond, to tell him about the boy I loved. HIs hand was large and on my thigh, it was very warm as he gently rubbed me. Let me explain, he told me, when a boy kisses a girl she feels a certain warmth, an attraction, to be kissed. When a boy is kissed by another boy he feels the same attraction, to be kissed. And with that he kissed me on the mouth until I stopped and let him. See, he told me, no different than a girl, you want to be kissed.
He held my crotch in his hand while he kissed me, He squeezed my dick, and with able hands he undid the belt in my pants and pulled out my dick and held it in his hand. For a girl, you see, having a boy's hand on her breast or holding his hand in her lap is pleasurable. It's pleasurable for boys too, and with that he leaned down and took my dick in his mouth and sucked on it, running his tongue up and down the shaft. You see, boys are like girls, they want a boy to love them too.
I held his dick in my hand, it was so much bigger and hard, and he encouraged me to lick it. Between kissing his dick, he would lift my face and kiss me on the lips, stroking my dick and using his hand have me stroke him. There's a moment when a girl has to face that she's a girl, he said, and let the boy inside her. It's like that with boys too, they can't rest until the other boy's been inside him, and with that he leaned me on the table and he was inside me.
After he had sat back and used his handkerchief to clean himself and clean my ass, he kissed me gently and held me against him and asked me if I enjoyed being loved on by a boy. Well you, see that is what this poem is about, and he reread it, passage by passage, when the one writing asked the other soldier for a kiss, to he held, to have his member kissed, the feeling of his friend's hardness on his leg before he received him. You see, this is not new, it's as old as mankind, just like girls, some boys want another boy to kiss them.
I wrote my report of the love during the Great War, I just didn't mention if it was boys or girls, much like the author of that poem did when he wrote it. If you want it to be a girl longing for a boy's kisses, or of a soldier boy longing for his soldier's kisses, it's up to you. I got an A on the report.
I was a senior and our English teacher gave an assignment to read poems, any book, as long as it was poems and you had to write a report, worth 30% of your final grade. I hated poems, I always did and I always will.
My mother was a reader and she suggested I go down to the B&B bookstore and talk to Alfred the owner and see if he had something he could recommend. The store was quiet that afternoon without any other customers and he asked me a lot of questions, about what I liked and didn't like. He got a book and opened it to a poem and told me to sit at this table and read the poem and we could talk about it.
I tried but I couldn't get into it, he stood behind me rubbing my shoulders, leaning over me pointing out this set of words and that set of words. I could feel his breath on my neck and his hands all over my shoulders and down my chest. I tried to read but I couldn't. He stopped and sat beside me, like a piano teacher does, and he read the poem out loud. He whispered to me that it was a love story of one soldier to another during the Great War, telling me that boys could love each other.
He got up and closed the blinds and put the closed sign on the door and came over and sat beside me and asked me if there was any particular boy I loved. Loving a boy is natural, as natural as the rain, or the fishes in the pond, to tell him about the boy I loved. HIs hand was large and on my thigh, it was very warm as he gently rubbed me. Let me explain, he told me, when a boy kisses a girl she feels a certain warmth, an attraction, to be kissed. When a boy is kissed by another boy he feels the same attraction, to be kissed. And with that he kissed me on the mouth until I stopped and let him. See, he told me, no different than a girl, you want to be kissed.
He held my crotch in his hand while he kissed me, He squeezed my dick, and with able hands he undid the belt in my pants and pulled out my dick and held it in his hand. For a girl, you see, having a boy's hand on her breast or holding his hand in her lap is pleasurable. It's pleasurable for boys too, and with that he leaned down and took my dick in his mouth and sucked on it, running his tongue up and down the shaft. You see, boys are like girls, they want a boy to love them too.
I held his dick in my hand, it was so much bigger and hard, and he encouraged me to lick it. Between kissing his dick, he would lift my face and kiss me on the lips, stroking my dick and using his hand have me stroke him. There's a moment when a girl has to face that she's a girl, he said, and let the boy inside her. It's like that with boys too, they can't rest until the other boy's been inside him, and with that he leaned me on the table and he was inside me.
After he had sat back and used his handkerchief to clean himself and clean my ass, he kissed me gently and held me against him and asked me if I enjoyed being loved on by a boy. Well you, see that is what this poem is about, and he reread it, passage by passage, when the one writing asked the other soldier for a kiss, to he held, to have his member kissed, the feeling of his friend's hardness on his leg before he received him. You see, this is not new, it's as old as mankind, just like girls, some boys want another boy to kiss them.
I wrote my report of the love during the Great War, I just didn't mention if it was boys or girls, much like the author of that poem did when he wrote it. If you want it to be a girl longing for a boy's kisses, or of a soldier boy longing for his soldier's kisses, it's up to you. I got an A on the report.
