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From: "john kirk" <able_vybor@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} boy pervert part one
Date: Sat, 21 Oct 2000 15:10:06 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Boyprv1.txt" begin>
MEMORIES OF A BOY PERVERT
true stories from a life of perversion
episode one
by John Kirk copyright October MM
1. SMALL BOY LUST
I was never abused as a child. At least, not that I remember. I'm just
made this way and glad of it. Being perverted makes for a much more
exciting and varied sex life, and the world offers a far wider range of
opportunities when you can think of just about everything you see from
babies and toddlers to adult women and teenage boys as potential victims.
And that's the point, I have always thought of them as victims, as
opportunities to fulfill my desires, not theirs. I simply do not recall a
time when I didn't feel that way. And I don't make wimpish excuses like I
was molested by the local priest when I was 5 or some pathetic shit like
that. I enjoy, have always enjoyed, and will continue to enjoy being a
cruel, sadistic and salacious pervert.
I remember taking an interest in my boy body at the age of just 4. Studying
myself nude in a mirror and even lying on the floor with the glass focused
between my legs so I could look at the curves of my bottom. I liked what I
saw and I think intuitively I understood the connection between looking at
myself, wriggling in front of the mirror, stroking, fondling and smacking my
own bottom and the powerful stiffening of my infant penis.
By the age of 5, I was masturbating, even though I didn't know why I was
doing it and was far too young even to experience a 'dry' orgasm. But I did
like the feeling I got from stroking myself like that whilst fondling my own
small boy bum. About that time, I went through a little phase of locking
myself in the lavatory, stripping off and pooing on the linoleum floor. I
used to like the lascivious feeling of it, especially watching in the mirror
I put nearby. I liked to see my own shit coming out of my bottom. I would
then sit on it and squish it around underneath my buttocks. I also liked
laying on the toilet with my feet up against the wall and urinating on
myself. Splashing it on my own face was always my aim, but I rarely managed
it without virtually standing upside down. Thankfully, I grew out of this
behaviour quite quickly when I realised it would be more interesting to make
other boys and girls play with my poo and splash them with my wee wee. It
was also difficult explaining what I was doing in there, all that time!
At infant school, I was using every opportunity to look at girls and boys in
what I realise now was a very sexual way. I loved sports, not for the
physical exercise which I hated, but for the changing before and after and
especially the showers. I revelled in seeing those lovely boys my own age
in the nude, showing me their pretty bottoms and their little boy cocks. I
touched at every chance. Somehow, I always got away with it. What a pity
sports wasn't unisex. But I got plenty of chances to see girls naked by
peering through a hole in the back of the shower room which backed onto
thick shrubbery in which I could hide. I liked children my own age but was
beginning to develop an interest in older girls and used to get to the spy
hole every chance I could when the 8 to 11 year olds did sports. I liked
their lovely supple bodies and dreamed at night of having 'sex' with them.
Of course, I had this notion that sex consisted of making them play with my
penis while I squirted my wee wee on their pretty faces and doing my poo in
their hands to lick up. It also involved smacking them or caning them very
hard on their lovely 'big' bottoms and on their cunnies.
I remember one little boy called Peter. He was 5 like me and was a
beautiful little blond boy with lovely big saucer-like blue eyes. He had a
little 4 year old sister called Jennifer. She was a pretty blonde too.
Peter and I were in the same class at school. Jennifer wasn't old enough to
go to school. In those days, school started at age 5. Peter and I used to
sit next to each other in class. I really don't recall how, but our
friendship quickly got twisted into a sort of sexual one. He was a very
innocent boy. Naive is probably the word. Perhaps he was frightened of
losing my friendship. I really don't remember. But I do recall some of the
things I made him do.
It started the morning after I'd laid in bed at night fantasizing about
caning Peter on his bottom and pooing into his little mouth. He came into
the classroom wearing really the shortest little shorts I'd ever seen. My
little cock was immediately a 2" rod of iron. During the register, I put my
hand on his thigh and left it there. He looked at me out of the corner of
his eye and I stared him down. He went red in the face and turned away but
did not attempt to remove my hand. I began to explore his lovely soft
thighs under the desk and still he made no attempt to stop me. I had never
felt so excited in my little life! For the first time ever, I was actually
using someone else for my perverted lust. I fondled both his legs from the
knees up to his groin, the tops, around the fleshy flanks and underneath. I
held and fondled his baby cock through the cotton of his shorts and slid my
hand underneath his bottom and traced the curve of his lovely buttocks and
his narrow bumcrack.
Later in the lesson, I took his hand and put it on my hard little penis and
I actually used it to rub myself. In the playground during break he asked
why I did that but I don't really recall what I told him. Whatever it was
must have worked for my purposes because, from that day on, he would let me
fondle him when and almost wherever I wanted. I used to make him come with
me at weekends to the waste ground near where we both lived and we would go
into one of the ruined houses. There, he would take his clothes off for me
and let me look at his body. I loved to examine him close up all over. I
used to kiss him and, even though I was too young to know about proper adult
kissing, I used to put my tongue in his mouth just for the pleasure of it.
I used to lick him everywhere. Gradually, as I became bolder, our games got
more perverse. Thankfully, whatever it was that bound him to me refused to
snap and Peter would let me do the most appalling things to him and could be
persuaded to do almost anything I told him to. It was almost master and
slave. The way I like it to this day.
I used to like making him kneel in front of me and lick my cock and my
little scrotum and then turn around and make him kiss my bottom, first both
my cheeks and then my bumhole. Kissing soon was not enough and I began to
make him lick and to push his tongue into my anus and, later still, to suck
me there. God, I loved it! But I'm getting ahead of myself. My small boy
abuse of Peter developed only slowly and later included his little sister,
but all this began about the time we hit the age of 6.
Early 1950s England must have been a pervert's paradise, seventh heaven for
child molesters, with the concept of child abuse still several decades ahead
and discussion of the subject almost forbidden. Parents would let their
children roam free without a thought to danger lurking out there and, of
course, danger did. It just wasn't thought of that way. So, life for a
little boy pervert, was carefree and opportunities were easy to find.
Looking back, I guess I was lucky to have avoided being abducted and raped
or killed or worse. But I did find some adults lurking in places like
bombed out buildings, parks, copses and public lavatories and clearly they
were looking for fresh meat like me. I found that exciting and attractive.
On Saturdays and Sundays, especially in the summer, and on some evenings
after school, I'd get out on my scooter and rush around the town pretending
to be a bus or some childish nonsense like that. Without any conscious
decision, I'd find myself scooting into a park on the edge of a factory
estate about five minutes from home. Many of the factories had been bombed
during the war and remained empty ruins. A great place for kids to play and
the perverts knew it. The park was densely overgrown in places and standing
adjacent to one particularly tangled wooded area was an old brick public
lavatory, gents one side, ladies the other. At age 6, I was often spending
whole afternoons in there. I look back on it as my pervert's
apprenticeship.
My first time in there was genuinely to pee. I thought I was alone,
standing at the urinal with my willie out of the leg of my short shorts.
But then the door of one of the stalls behind me creaked open and a man came
out. Being only 6, I thought of him as very old but, in truth, he was
probably only in his forties, younger than I am now. The thing that excited
me, and scared me a bit, was that he had his cock out of his trousers and it
was fucking huge!! At least, a 7" penis looks gigantic when you're only six
years old.
More to come.
<1st attachment end>
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