I've been queer my whole life. I don't like boys, only cocks. I've never been with a boy, or seen a boy's erection, close up. I've fuck myself any number of times on things I pretended were cocks, and wished were cocks, but I'd never even had a dildo up me until I turned 14. In fact, it was my birthday weekend, and I just happened to by alone.

I wasn't supposed to be alone, not that night. It was pure chance I had the night to myself when the package arrived. I don't know how to explain it otherwise, except as coincidence. The sender couldn't have known. I didn't know. I didn't know who the sender was, either. Someone who knew I was queer.

Mrs. Kendall dropped me off. It was Saturday evening and I'd spent the afternoon with Daniel, playing games on his X-Box: Halo, Medal of Honor, and Grand Theft Auto. Mrs. Kendal made a small cake, even though my birthday was yesterday. Mom, Dad and Kendal (isn't that a coincidence?) were in PA visiting Penn State. They had gone for the day and were supposed to be home before dark. That didn't work out. Dad and Kendal got sick.

It was a stomach bug and Kendal was throwing up. Dad was nauseous also, but hadn't started vomiting before Mom called. He started half an hour later. They would spend the night at Grandma and Grandpa's house in Maryville, and come home Sunday. That was the plan, at least. I was to behave myself and not have anyone over. I got her call just after I got home. The package arrived half an hour later.

It was 7 o'clock, maybe a few minutes after when the doorbell rang. Wondering who was ringing my doorbell so late, I went to find out. It was Mr. Connolly, the next-door neighbor.

"This is yours," he said, extending his hand. In it was a long box, something like 4" square and 20" long. "It was delivered to me be mistake."

I had seen it leaning against his door when I came home and been curious, but I hadn't looked. Now I wish I had. His expression was very weird, embarrassed, and inquisitive. He'd opened the box and taped it back up, I thought.

"What is it?" I asked.

He colored, which made me nervous and embarrassed. It had to be personal, whatever it was. I told him thanks, went inside and closed the door in his face. Five seconds later my stomach plunged to my feet.

Horrified, I spun around and stared out the peephole. Mr. Connolly's front door was just closing. He was eyeing my door as it closed. He looked anxious and disappointed. Holy shit!

Let me tell you about my heart: it was pounding so hard it was hard to breath and I had to make myself calm down. In the box were three dildos, and three tubes of KY Personal Lubricant. A handwritten note read "To my favorite little queerboy. Have fun with your dildos--a friend."

The box was 20" long because inside was an 18" long dildo called a Rambone. It was black and 2-1/2" thick, with a huge suction cup at the end. When I measured the length of the shaft later, it was 14" long. Fourteen Inches! It looked even longer. The two smaller dildos were tiny in comparison, only 9" and 7" long, respectively. All were meant for my ass? OMG, no!

The Rambone was impossible. Nothing that thick could ever go up someone's behind. I discounted that immediately. The two smaller dildos I could handle, I thought, without injuring myself. The shaft of the larger was 7" long, the other measured 6" long. One was intimidatingly thick, the other not so much. I thought I would enjoy the 6" shaft up my ass. I laughed. Who had sent these damned things?

Now I was scared. No one knew I was queer. No one that I knew of, anyway. Somebody did, though. And they knew I liked fucking my ass.

It was not late enough to do anything now. I stuck the box on top of the refrigerator and went to the den to watch TV. The TV in the den is 54" wide. My TV Is 32" and not HD. No comparison.

I watched TV until 10 o'clock, when Mom called again. Dad and Kendal were worse. She was worried about herself, but so far, nothing more than sympathetic symptoms. She told me to call if I started feeling sick and hung up. I was free.

Fifteen minutes later I was on my bed, naked as can be except for my socks. I was on my knees with my chest flat to the mattress, the dildo pointing downward at the bed. At least it seemed that way, you know? I was curious if it actually pointed straight down like I thought it did. Finally, I had a 6" long cock in my ass. I was so happy.

It was rubber, yeah, but perfectly shaped and close as I'd come to a real cock. It made me want a real one badly and that bothered me. A real cock meant a real guy fucking me, and not even his bare cock, but one sheathed in a condom.

I'd hate having a condom in my ass, but I wouldn't want a guy fucking me otherwise. Unless he had never been with anyone else and could prove it to me. I shivered, thinking about a flesh and blood penis up my ass.

Penis, I thought. How I liked that word. It made me all shivery feeling, and so did the word erection, which a penis in my rear end would have to be in order to fuck me. Sliding in and out, fucking my rectum through my tightly clenched anus. I shivered again, and God, was I getting a world class hardon. Too bad it was so small.

I had the blinds open, because I'm not just a queer, but prevented. I wanted everyone to see me, even though the lights were out and no one could possibly see me without infrared binoculars. I eyed the parking lot, and the two buildings across the way. My rectum thumped pleasantly and I pleasantly had to go pee. I guess the dildo had something to do with that.

Michael, I thought ... what if the person who sent you the dildos is watching you right now? My eyes focused and looked more closely at the two buildings across the lot. Oh, my God, I thought. What if he is? What if he has infrared binoculars trained on me right now? I'm displaying myself with a dildo up my rear end. Offering myself to him? Oh, God, I thought.

And why did that make my penis so effing hard? And make my nipples ache, and send an intense shiver up my spine. He could be watching me right now.

I was on the second floor of our four-story condo, my bedroom window overlooking the main parking lot. From where I lay, I could count maybe thirty apartments, a hundred or more windows and patio doors. Any one of which could conceal my watcher.

I'm 14 years old, I thought. I just turned 14, a day ago. How long has this guy been watching me? The question left me trembling with anxiety.

"You knew I would do this, didn't you?" I said. "You're over there, looking at me with your dildo up my ass. God, I hope you're not photographing me," I said, really anxious now. The thought of being photographed fucking a dildo made my erection wilt. Suddenly, I didn't feel so excited anymore.

"Please don't photograph me. If you want to fuck me, I'm right here. Come over and fuck my ass. I'll let you, as long as you use a condom."

I lay there, tail high in the air with a dildo in it, considering what I'd just said. Was I asking this dude to come over and fuck me? Fuck my barely 14-year-old ass with his big cock?

My God, Michael, you're an almost ninth-grader, for God's sake. You have no business asking some adult to fuck your ass. You have no legal right to ask him. You're under age. It's statutory rape, at best.

My penis started getting hard again and my heart beat faster, thinking about this. If my gifter was across the parking lot with infrared binoculars right now, he knew I was alone, knew he could safely fuck me if he wanted. Statutory rape my rear end. OMG was my penis hard now. It wanted the gifter to come fuck me.

I rose up and sat back on my calves, holding the dildo in place with my left hand, so I could wave with my right. I did, inviting him to come fuck me. Fifteen minutes later, he did.

"This is crazy, you know. The dildos were a joke. I never expected you to use them, certainly not tonight."

Gil was a nervous, 45-year-old man with thinning hair and bad eyes. He wore thick, black-rimmed glasses, was horse-faced, rail-thin, and awkward. I was put off by his appearance at first, but after half a beer and a joint split between us--he couldn't possibly have brought a better or more useful present--I was feeling better about him. I was to call him Mr. Dennison.

"My parents aren't home," I said unnecessarily. "You couldn't know that. I didn't know that would happen."

I was dressed in my bathrobe, but naked underneath. I hadn't really expected him to come. I'd been panic-stricken, at first--I still was, a little. OK, more than a little.

He looked around anxiously. We were in the den. His dildo was on my nightstand, along with the others.

"How long have you been watching me?" I asked anxiously. I was so incredibly embarrassed. I was sitting with a man who wanted to fuck me. I had invited him over to fuck me. Was I insane?

"Tonight? Ever since you got home. I was hoping to see your reaction."

Jesus, I thought ... what if my parents were home?

"I meant, you know, since how long--" I shook my head. He'd misunderstood the question. Then I thought of something else.

"Did you bring the package over yourself? God, that was so dangerous, Mr. Dennison. There are cameras all over the place. What if you got caught? You left the box at the wrong door, you know."

He started in shock. I nodded. "It was my next door neighbor's door, Mr. Connolly." Uneasily, I wondered if he wanted to fuck me now too. He'd looked in the box, after all. I didn't tell Gil that. He was worried enough.

"I was really nervous," he admitted, fidgeting. "That was really stupid though." He seemed to remember something. "Forget the cameras, okay? The cheap assholes who run this place record over the video after one day."

I started. "Really? They don't keep the tapes?"

"There are none. They record to hard drive and have it set to loop back every 24 hours to save space. Spend all that money for cameras, and then don't save the recordings. What assholes," he said.

"And you know this how?" I asked slowly, unconvinced. He grinned.

"I service the equipment here. It's what I do. Install surveillance systems."

That explains a lot, I thought. "You personally?"

"Well, my company does. But I've been out here a couple times myself on service calls. It's a conflict of interest. I told them that before."

"Is that illegal or something?"

"Not saving the recordings, or my conflict of interest?"

"Both," I said uncertainly. "Either."

"Neither, just bad lapses of judgment. The condo rules say to keep recordings for a week. Our rules dictate no conflict of interest, like mine. Happens, anyway. Thankfully, too, considering," he said distractedly "I don't believe I brought the package over myself."

"I don't believe you actually--" I stopped, suddenly rattled.

"The cameras out there..." Oh, God, talk about instant paranoia as I pointed out the window. "Can they see into my bedroom?"

He laughed. "They don't have infrared ability, just low-light level. Not sensitive enough to see in your bedroom without the lights on, though. You're safe."

I breathed a sigh if relief. I had never once considered the cameras all over the place. Now ... address the other issue, Michael.

"Um ... you know I'm only 14, right?"

"I didn't know that," he said, looking chagrined. "I knew you were young, but 14... ?" He sighed. Then he winced as I told him exactly how 14, I was.

"Yesterday?" he exclaimed, sitting up straight.

I nodded unhappily. This was bad. Very bad. He sat back again.

"I can't do this. I'd go to jail forever," he said miserably. "Give me back the dildos, too. Even the lubricant. I can't afford to have any of that stuff coming from me. Not to a 14-year-old and one day boy. They'd crucify my ass."

I had to buy some time, slow him down until his nerves settled.

"How old did you think I was?"

"Older than 14 and one day," he said gruffly. "Go get the toys so I can get out of here, please. Just being here is trouble enough. Especially like that," he said indicating my robe. "Please put some clothes on."

He looked at the window, worriedly. I got up and closed the blinds.

"That's the last thing you should do," he fretted, adding, "No, leave them closed," when I offered to open them again. "Damage is done. You're really only 14 and a day?"

I had to laugh, which didn't help. "Sorry," I apologized. "I'll get your stuff." I turned but then turned back.

"Why did you send that monster dildo? Just to freak me out? No one could use that thing. Not up your ass, anyway." The thought made me laugh again.

"You'd be surprised."

"What?"

"I've seen guys, a couple of women too, take the whole thing up the ass."

I stared at him in disbelief. "No way!"

"Yes, way," he countered. "One guy took an 18" Monster Cock, 3" thick. I couldn't believe it. This one guy has three videos of him online, riding his Rambone, doing the thing from different angles and wearing the same lingerie, so I know it was real."

"Lingerie?" I repeated.

He laughed. "You'd look cute in a baby-doll nightly, yourself." Then he blushed, embarrassed. "Anyway, could you go get the things?"

I went, thinking distractedly of me in sexy, Victoria's Secret underwear, trying to mount his impossible Rambone. I turned around and went back.

"Could you show me a couple of those videos? I'd like to see."

It was true. I couldn't believe it. He took me to a website called xHamster, and keyed in the word Rambone. It was of those Galaxy Note phones, the first one I'd seen up close. It was so huge! It was like watching TV on my mom's iPad Mini.

The one guy's videos were jaw dropping. I knew the Rambone's shaft was only 14" long (only 14" ... LOL!) but it looked 18", or even 20" long in the video. We compared the real one to the video, and it was definitely a Rambone. In all three videos, the guy stuck the Rambone to the wall via the suction cup, and began fucking his ass. Just like that. As if impaling yourself on something 2-1/2" thick was nothing at all. The shaft I'd enjoyed tonight was only an inch thick. The larger dildo was only 1-1/4" thick. Please!

The first time he went beyond bottoming out at the end of his rectum, I groaned. The six-incher bottomed out in me ... How could he possibly do that? I looked at Mr. Dennison in stupefaction. It's the only word to describe my reaction.

"Where is it going?" I croaked.

He put the video on hold and Googled 'male anal-rectal anatomy' and showed me my insides. My rectum was approximately 6" deep (I knew that already), and joined my sigmoid colon at more than a ninety-degree angle. I shook my head, not understanding how the Rambone got past that junction without tearing something apart.

"A lot of practice and patience," he said. "I wouldn't expect you to do it your first time out."

I laughed, bemused.

"Maybe your tenth time."

I laughed again. "Right."

I couldn't believe what a hardon this had given me. It was becoming embarrassingly obvious, impossible to conceal in just my bathrobe. I really should have put something on, I thought. I snuck a peek at his crotch and realized he was bunched up there too. I wondered how big he was. He looked big. I was barely 4-1/2" long on my best day, and less than an inch thick. Pitifully embarrassing. How embarrassing.

We watched the guy's three videos, and then sought out the guy doing the Monster Cock; I groaned aloud. Mr. Dennison laughed, patting my knee.

"Shines a whole new light on the subject, don't it?"

"Oh, my. God," I croaked. "How can he do that?"

"A lot of practice and patience," we said together.

"Would you like to spend the night with me?" I asked.

His grin faded to nothing. "If anyone found out..."

"I'm not telling anybody," I said.

"You don't have to. You have neighbors who will. I have to worry about that too." He sighed. "I shouldn't have come here at all. What the fuck was I thinking? Please go get the package so I can get out of here, Michael."

I didn't want him to go. I wanted to suck his cock. I wanted him to fuck my ass. If he left, even my toys were gone. I'd be effing miserable.

"How about I come to your place?" I asked.

"No!" he said sternly. "No way."

"How about--"

"Do I have to take you over my knee and paddle your behind, Michael? Go get the package!"

OMG! What a terrible jolt to my hardon that was! It liked that idea--being spanked, bare-bottomed, over his knee. I envisioned myself squirming and pleading, squealing as his hand came down on my butt cheeks with resounding smacks.

He sighed. "I must be insane. I'll stay."

"You will?" I gushed. I ran to and through my arms around his waist and hugged him very tight.

"Down, boy!" He laughed "You are never to tell anyone I was here. Never, ever, ever. I'll leave an hour before dawn. It's industry-wide knowledge that an hour before dawn is the safest time to commit mayhem. Police hate the hour before dawn. So do I, usually."

He looked around, examining the den's windows carefully, and then unbelted my robe and spread it apart. My little penis got so incredibly hard; my scrotum shriveled up to nothing, scrunching my tiny balls. It was actually a little painful

"I am insane." He slid the robe back over my shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Then he backed to the closest chair, taking me with him by the hand, sat down, and urged me to my knees between his legs.

It was 3:24 am. I was snuggled up to him in bed, my leg over his thighs, my penis hanging limply between my legs. His hand patted my rear end, gently rubbing it. He'd made good on his promise to spank my bottom. It was nice and red now. Embarrassingly red, I thought. I was so embarrassed.

I was so patently gay. I had given him my virginity, sucking his flesh and blood cock, masturbating him lovingly, licking and kissing every inch of his huge erection. I had carefully fondled his immense testicles, and sucked them without castrating him. I was his boy sperm bank now, his deposit safely hidden away deep in my rectum and a second, bitter and salty one in my stomach. It was so yucky and so wonderfully tasty. I was so gay. I was also seriously sore inside.

"Mr. Dennison?" I asked sleepily.

He patted my rear end.

"Will I get pregnant? We didn't--"

I didn't get to finish saying we hadn't used protection because he laughed and smacked my ass hard enough to make me yelp, and then I was laughing to.

"I really liked fucking you, Michael," he said. "You have the tightest asshole I've ever buggered."

"Have you buggered a lot?" I asked, unexpectedly jealous and a little wounded. I wasn't his first?

He patted and rubbed my behind. "You're my first boy. Leave it to me to start with a 14-year-old and a day, and a neighbor boy to boot. 14 years old," he muttered in wonder.

"And two days," I added. "It's Sunday now."

He laughed and patted my bottom again. I had so liked having it spanked. He'd taken me over his knee and paddled me one hundred plus times with his bare hand. I tried to count, but lost track, what with all the squirming, twisting and kicking my feet. He filmed us though, on his Galaxy Note, and we counted together afterward. I was so embarrassed: a 14 year old, being spanked like a girl.

Remembering made me harden again and stiffen against his thigh. He began to harden in response and I took him and played with it as he thickened. He was not quite as big as the larger, normal dildo.

"I'm so glad you stayed," I said.

I was so embarrassed, offering only my 4-1/2" against his 8", much thicker cock, but he wouldn't touch it anyway, so it didn't matter. I was his boy toy. We hadn't kissed, and he'd done nothing with me to suggest he was anything but straight.

"Am I really your first boy?" I asked.

"You're my first since I was like 15, when I experimented with a friend. I didn't like it. Sucking was not for me. I didn't actually like being sucked that much, either. It made me feel que--I mean, gay."

"Like me," I joked. "Queer Michael Cooper."

He laughed. "Do you like girls at all?"

I raised my head. "That's the weird thing, you know ... I do. I fantasize about them all the time. I never fantasize about guys. But I want to be with them. Isn't that weird?"

"No, it just means you swing both ways. You're bisexual."

I laid my head back on his chest. I was quite a lot smaller than him, only 5'3" tall and 115 lbs. He was over 6' tall and maybe 175 lbs. He handled me like I a little girl, which I guess I was to him.

"Do you like me being a boy?"

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't. I would never have approached a teenage girl, especially such a young one. That's just suicide, nowadays," he said as I chimed in with "14 years old and two days."

He whacked my ass again. "Will you stop saying that! Like I could forget it. Christ, what grade are you in, anyway? 9th?"

"Going in 9th," I confirmed. "In September."

"Fuck," he groaned. "An 8th grader. I am so stupid. And don't correct me, either. I'm the adult here, and children don't correct their elders. And you are still a child," he reminded me. "14 years old, and two days. I gotta have my fucking head examined."

I giggled. Just like a girl. I felt just like a girl ... how humiliating. I'd been seriously fucked, and done everything with my mouth a girl could possibly do. Technically, I was a girl. Mr. Dennison's girl.

"Can I--"

"No! Go to sleep."

"But I--"

"I don't care what you want to do, Michael. Go to sleep."

I burrowed into him, still playing with him thick penis. He seemed to have no issue with that. I wished I could play with mine too, but it was sort of unreachable like this.

I had masturbated while he fucked my ass, chest flat to the mattress the way I liked, tail high in the air. He wanted me to come when he came, and I did, making a mess of my sheets while he flooded my rectum with cum. He came forever and ever and ever. I thought he would never stop, and imagined myself filling up and exploding inside like an overfilled water balloon. I didn't ejaculate half as long, or a quarter as much.

"Do you always come so much?" I asked.

"No. Now go to sleep."

"Cum tastes really cruddy, you know. I gagged. I almost spit it out. I didn't expect it to be like that."

"You've never tasted your own?"

I shook my head. "I knew it tasted bitter, but I wasn't expecting how really bad it was. How do girls do that? Swallow it all the time?"

"You swallowed it," he pointed out.

"I know. I will again, if you let me?"

"Go to sleep, Michael. You've had enough sex for one night."

That, I thought, was not true. But I slept anyway, as instructed, until 5 am when he left.

He packed up his box and took it with him home. The only thing left was a tube of KY Lubricant that had fallen down beside my night table. Luckily, I found it a few days later, and not Mom. I had a really sore ass the next day, and not from the spanking. And that was my first sexual experience with a man.

I was so horribly depressed. I missed Mr. Dennison like I could not believe. I had loved spending the night with him and being in bed, falling asleep with him and waking up. My hands wanted to hold him, to stroke his huge cock and fondle those immense testicles. They were so big, I imagined, to pump out all that wonderful sperm. He was extraordinary in that he ejaculated three times as much as a normal man. He showed me a picture he took with his cell phone of a shot glass 3/4 full to the top. That's how much he came when he came. I wasn't just imagining it.

Mom, Dad and Kendal got home around one. I went through the condo three times, looking for anything out of place. Everything was in order.

None were in particularly good condition and wouldn't have noticed a pink elephant in the den. Kendal went right to bed while Mom and Dad unpacked. Then Dad went to bed too. On the living room couch with a bottle of Gatorade and was asleep In minutes. Mom was exhausted after being up half the night and went to bed herself. I may as well have been alone. I liked it that way.

I watched TV in the den until 4 o'clock, and then went to my room to nap. I hadn't thought about it, but I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. I was surprised when Mom woke me up at 8 o'clock.

"Are you sick too?" she said in alarm.

I sat up, dislocated and confused. "Just tired. What time is it?" I asked. I looked at my clock in surprise, also eying the front of Mom's robe. It was loose, the belt not tied securely. She was topless underneath and showing a startling amount of chest, if not cleavage. Mom could be Rachel Leigh Cook's older sister. Her breasts were about that big too. It made me anxious, seeing that much of her.

"Oh, sorry," she said, tightening up. "That's so embarrassing."

"What?" I muttered, pretending not to have seen.

She sighed. "Are you sure you're okay? No temperature?" She felt my forehead with the back of her hand, and then the inside of her wrist.

"You're hot," I said, meaning she might have a fever. She took it the other way.

"Why thank you. I think. I don't feel so particularly hot right now. Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

I knew from her tone, and the way she glanced back over her shoulder, the question would be embarrassing.

"What?" I asked slowly.

She looked at the open door again, then hunched forward and asked softly: "Are you gay, Michael?"

I had expected the question, and didn't.

"Uh ... do you think I am?"

"I think you might be leaning that way. We don't have to talk about it, if you don't want."

I told her what I had said to Mr. Dennison, that I liked girls. Her judgment matched his. "You're bisexual then. Have you ever... ?" She blushed bright red.

"Been with a boy?" I asked. This I could honestly answer no. I had never been with a boy. That wouldn't happen for another month yet, when I started sucking Daniel.

"What about... ?"

"Girls? No. Would you like to be my first?"

She colored dark as a Red Delicious apple. "Michael! I can't believe you said that!" She laughed, and then giggled girlishly. "I guess I had it coming, after the robe business. I really am sorry about that."

I was pretty much the same color as her. I said the first thing that came to mind. "You know, you look a lot like--"

"Rachel Leigh Cook, I know," she said. I get that all the time."

"How old are you?" I counted mentally and came up with 39. I guessed 38, to be on the same side. Kendal was 18, and I thought Mom had her when she was 21. I was terrible remembering ages.

"Two years older than my doppelganger," she said, smiling.

"You looked her up?" I asked in surprise.

"When everyone tells you you look like someone..." She shrugged. "I never saw the resemblance," she lied.

We shared an uncomfortably long silence.

"Sorry I said that," I said. "Even joking. It's not a good thing to say to your mother."

"No, it isn't," she agreed, "but neither is coming in your son's room in a mostly open bathrobe."

We shared another long silence.

"Mom... ?"

"Wait." She got up to close my door. On second thought, she locked it, looking very stressed and unsure of herself. She came back and sat next to me on the bed, biting her lower lip.

"Can I tell you something in confidence? It must never leave this room, Michael. Never."

"What?" I asked, mystified.

Her face was brick red now, the color of mortification. I looked down at her wringing hands.

"What's going on, Mom?"

She blurted out: "Your father and I don't have sex! It's been almost five years since he's done anything other than kiss me." She turned away, horror-stricken. "Oh, God ... I don't believe I just said that."

I watched in shock as she bolted for the door, fumbled it open and fled my room. I sat there with my mouth open.

At just before 11, I got a reprieve from my misery. My cell phone pinged, an unusual thing in itself as I had few male friends. I got only a few text messages that late at night, and never from girls.

It was from an unknown number. I knew who it was, though.

"What's the magic word?" he asked.

I only thought for a second. "Rambone?"

"Is it safe to talk?"

"Everyone's in bed but me."

Technically, that was a lie, as I was in bed streaming a movie on Netflix. I had my hand down my shorts, idly fingering myself at the sexier parts. It was a surprisingly sexy movie staring Rachel Leigh Cook.