Thursday, September 17, 2015

It's fall, and pumpkin season.

I used to know a hot little emo twink named Punkin. (No, that's not his photo.)

Punkin wasn't his real name, of course, just the name that his first boyfriend had given him. Punkin was 13, and the boyfriend 18. He was an older boy who lived a couple blocks away from Punkin, and they and a bunch of other kids were rough-housing and setting up forts in an abandoned playground nearby. Someone had thrown a huge tarp over a dome jungle-gym, and secured it with tie-downs. They'd then put a huge culvert pipe that had washed out of the ground against a portion of it, creating a sort of igloo-like thing. It meant that entrance to the "fort" was kind of restricted, and it got hot and sticky under there.

For whatever reason, Punkin said, the older boys were chasing the younger boys to "kidnap" them and "force them to be on their side" or something. Disorganized kids' games, and whatnot. Punkin fled into the "fort" and this older boy chased him. The older boy then "punished" him by spanking him. Punkin already knew he was gay; he'd known since he was seven years old. As he was spanked, Punkin became very sexually aroused. And Punkin's dick wasn't small. The older boy spanked him even harder for becoming aroused, and then forced down Punkin's pants. Punkin said he nearly ejaculated while being spanked. Sadly, the S&M ended: The older boy pulled out his cock, Punkin sucked him off, and then the older boy mounted Punkin face-down, missionary. (That made Punkin cum.)

Their relationship intensified, and lasted three years. It was Punkin's sleeping with as many boys and men as he possibly could that ended it.

Punkin was beautiful: Dark, dark brown hair and huge, dark, dark brown liquid eyes. Somewhat dusky skin coloring, with very small and very, very erect nipples. (Punkin often said that his nipples were erect all the time, and he often became sexually aroused if he wore a tight t-shirt or spandex sports shirt, because the sensation of his nipples rubbing against the cloth was so intense.) His body was almost hairless, except for a very dense pubic patch. His penis was large, curved up and to the right, and was uncircumcized.

Punkin was one of the first people I ever became acquainted with who was a top in his private life, but who bottomed most of the time. That's because he was such a beautiful, waifish twink: The type of men who were attracted to him were tops, and wanted badly to screw the bejesus out of him.

Ever since that incident in the "fort", Punkin became aware of his intense attraction to BDSM. By the time he was 16, he'd amassed a large amount of leather gear (several harnesses, a leather jock, buttless chaps, a ball-gag, a dildo-gag), and owned several large, ribbed dildos and a couple very large butt plugs. He loved loved loved loved loved loved to be spanked by an older man, and was sexually aroused by the feeling of achiness and sore muscles and a sore anus. When he was 20, Punkin met a boy in college who worked Punkin's foreskin and penis with his rough, calloused hands for several hours -- leaving Punkin's cock rubbed raw, even to the point where the skin had rubbed into sores. Punkin said he couldn't touch his penis for days, but was almost constantly aroused by the painful soreness. It drove him crazy, and he loved it.

I really liked Punkin.

But, like a lot of very hot twinks, he was psychotic. He believed his beauty was everything, and it would last forever. He refused to compromise, didn't have a lick of empathy for other people, was selfish, and used his body, cock, and face to get what he wanted.

The last I heard, he'd fallen in with a middle-aged woman who loved to torture the fuck out of his body. He'd abandoned all his friends, had no job, and was essentially leaching off her.

What a shame.

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