When I was 8 years old (third grade for those of you who remember), I was a very shy boy. Read a lot of books, couldn’t see anything without my glasses, skinny enough to blow away in a strong breeze, pale as a ghost. You know the type.
I went to a really poor city school, the kind that had a library full of books without covers and tiles so old they were cracked and half missing.

Well one day in fall, early November, during recess I managed to get away from anyone without getting beaten up or teased by anyone. I snuck off to the side of the building, in a little nook between the brick wall and the brick fence that separated the front of the school from the playground/lot.
I wanted to finish reading Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, which of course we all remember as being one of the most horrifying books that everyone pretends isn’t going to traumatize the fuck out of their kids for the next 3 years of their life.

Anyway, I was there in the nook, where no one could see me (I could usually get away with an extra 5 or 10 minutes of recess there, because no teacher thought to check there while counting the students), sitting on the dead leaf strewn asphalt. I heard a noise, and looked up in time to see a 7th grader hopping over the brick fence. Sometimes the older kids would go hang out in front of the school instead of on the playground, and he must have come around to avoid going back through the school building. He was white, one of the few white kids in the school along with me. Brown hair, chain wallet, brown eyes.

I was terrified of course, I started crying, sitting there in a corner where no one could see me. I cried a lot at that age.

He laughed at me, came over and cornered me so I had nowhere to go (not that I’d have bothered to run). He said I had two options. That he could either beat the hell out of me and throw all my stuff out into the street, or I could suck his dick.

I had absolutely no clue what that meant. I just sat there crying and wishing I wasn’t there. I wished I wasn’t there a lot at that age too.

He didn’t bother to explain anything to me, just unzipped his pants and pushed himself in my face. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me against his crotch. I felt sick to my stomach with fear, I still had no idea what was happening or what he was doing. He told me to open my mouth, and when I did, he pushed his hips closer to me, and dropped the head of his limp dick in between my lips. I just sat there, staring at him, tears streaming down my face. He told me to suck on him really softly, and not to bite at all.

When I started to suck him into me, that’s when he really started to get hard. When I felt him getting bigger and firmer in my mouth, I pulled away in panic. I didn’t know what any of this meant, I barely realized my own peepee got hard sometimes. When I pulled my mouth off of him, he pulled my hair harder and jerked my head around sharply, hard enough to knock my glasses off, and started rubbing his dick hard against my lips.

He told me to open back up and keep sucking. I opened, but I was crying too hard to suck very well, so he just grabbed my head and bobbed me up and down along his length. He wasn’t too big, maybe 4 or 5 inches, and on the slender side, but my mouth was so small I could barely open wide enough to take him in.

After what felt like an eternity, but was probably more like 2 minutes, I felt my mouth filling with liquid. It was thick enough that I knew right away it wasn’t pee, but I still choked and tried to get away. His grip was tight enough that I couldn’t pull very far back, and I ended up swallowing half of the stuff while the rest spilled out onto the asphalt. For a while, we just sat there in that position. I was too scared to move as he kept letting little spurts in my mouth and rubbing himself on my tongue. Eventually, he pulled away and wiped the tip of his dick across my lips, and then zipped himself back up.

I suppose what happened next was predictable. He’d just had his orgasm, and wasn’t thinking about sex anymore. Now he was thinking about how much trouble he could get in. He pressed my head against the brick wall behind me and started punching me; not very hard – certainly not as hard as he could, but hard enough to hurt. Hard enough that my mouth had blood in it when he was done.

“If you tell anyone about this, I swear I’ll fucking kill you, understand?” I nodded, kept crying, staring up fearfully at him. I would never tell anyone, I promised him, I just wanted him to leave me alone.

He beat me for a while. Nothing new for me, I was used to kids beating me. When he was tired of it, or convinced I wasn’t going to talk, or whatever crossed his mind, he stopped and jumped back over the fence back into the front of the lot.

No one really thought anything about my state when recess was over. The teachers were used to seeing me roughed up and tired of hearing me cry about it. I just went back to class and back to my day.

The next day at recess, I stayed away from that side of the building. I went to the benches near the street and went about my reading. The other kids made fun of me a little, but mostly they were just playing their games.
I just wanted to stay somewhere everyone could see me.

When I looked over at the fence, at the nook where I’d been the day before, I saw the same kid. He jumped over the fence, and went into the nook we’d been in. I didn’t know why at the time, but presumably his guilt and fear made him go check out the area for anything that would get him in trouble.

I don’t know why I did what I did.
I stuffed my book into my backpack and ran over the nook. Away from the teachers, away from the students, back to that out of the way spot. When the kid saw me, he momentarily looked more scared than I must have; he was white as a ghost. He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back into the corner. Asked me if I’d told anyone what happened. I managed to let out a quiet little ‘No’, which he seemed to believe.

“I mean it, I’ll kill you if you do.”

“I know,” was all I said. I believed him. He looked relived; he knew he wasn’t in trouble and that he wasn’t going to be in trouble.

“Why’d you come back here?” he asked me. I told him I didn’t know. It wasn’t a lie, I had no clue.

He looked around, leaning out of the nook and checking the front yard, and the lot. When he realized it was just the two of us, he immediately forced me back against the wall, and down to my knees. I started crying again, but not quite as hard as before. He told me to just open my mouth and be quiet. I did. I knelt there with my mouth open, not making a noise, just watching my breath in the cool air as he looked around again before unzipping his pants once more.

He was all ready hard this time, something slick and shiny on the tip. He didn’t waste any time, just pushed his dick into my mouth and started humping me against the wall. It hurt my head, and he gagged me when he pushed all the way in.

He didn’t last nearly as long that way. After maybe, 30 or 40 seconds, he pulled out and started jerking himself. He told me to just keep my mouth open no matter what. I did. His cum came out in thick ropes, pooling on my tongue. I still had no idea what ANY of this meant. It was like I woke up in a dream world where nothing anyone did made sense. I didn’t like the taste of it, but it wasn’t bad enough to make me actually cringe.

When he was done cumming (it seemed to take almost as long as his humping), he wiped the last drop of it against my lower lip, and told me to swallow it. I must have looked confused. If I could have spoken I would have tried to say no, but I didn’t have a chance to even shake my head. He forced his hand over my mouth, closing it, and said “Swallow it, or I’ll hurt you”.

I immediately swallowed.
I choked a little, but I did swallow it all in one gulp. He pulled his hand away and told me to open my mouth again. He stared at my empty mouth for a long time.

After he was done staring, he grabbed me by the neck and told me that I’d still better not tell anyone, because he’d still fucking kill me.

“I know, I won’t tell anyone,” I cried.
He left without saying anything else.

For the next 3 weeks, I would suck him off every day. I started getting much better at it. He taught me the basics of it, and then started telling me to do things he liked. He would tell me when to lick, when to suck, when to kiss, where to kiss, when to lick at his balls.

Sometimes he still just pushed me against the wall and fucked my face, but usually, he would lean against the wall and watch out of the nook while I knelt in front of him and tended to him the best I could.

I swallowed almost every time, but every now and then he would cum on my face before pushing it all into my mouth. I didn’t like that, because my face never felt clean after he did that, but I never told him not to.

Thanksgiving break came and went, and when I went back to school, it was early December. I waited until recess very eagerly. On some level, I really missed him (Shawn, was his name, I eventually learned). No one ever talked to me, and even what we did during recess was a welcome bit of attention.

I ran to the nook and knelt there on the asphalt, and waited. Shawn jumped over the fence and started coming back. So did another black boy. I panicked, I started crying. I tried to run. I’d never told anyone what happened back there, but I thought they were going to seriously hurt me.

“Fucking wimp,” the black kid said staring at me as Shawn grabbed me and pushed me back into the nook.

“Be nice to him Eric,” Shawn responded to him. I didn’t know what the feelings meant at the time, but I fell in love with Shawn a little that day.
It was the first time I ever recalled anyone, teacher or otherwise, saying to be nice to me.

“It’s okay, Eric’s my friend, he wanted to see.” Apparently he’d spilled the beans about me over thanksgiving break.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” I managed to squeak out.

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay.” He unzipped his pants.

Normally, when I sucked Shawn off, I would just put my hands at my sides and work on him with my mouth. It was just the way things went, I wasn’t used to putting my hands up. That day though, I wrapped my arms around his thighs and hugged him close as I used my mouth on him.

I buried my face against him and kissed him all over. The black boy just stared as I sucked. Every now and then I would look up and over at him with Shawn in my mouth. Shawn said it was good when I looked him in the eyes while I did it, so I figured it must be true for Eric too.

After Shawn came, and I swallowed, Eric came over and unzipped his pants. He was a little bigger than Shawn, but not as much as the rumours would have you thinking. I looked over at Shawn, afraid, and he just told me to keep sucking. I took Eric into my mouth much more slowly, but I dutifully sucked and licked at him like Shawn taught me, and after a few minutes he came in my mouth as well, and I swallowed every drop.

Sometime in the next week, Shawn had a bright idea on how to get more use from me. He told me that at 9:35, I had to ask my teacher to use the restroom, and to come upstairs to the 4th-8th grade level and go in that bathroom.

The next day, I did exactly as he told me to, like always. I asked my teacher for a restroom pass, and of course, being a little bookworm, the teachers didn’t get too worked up about me being gone the way they would worry about a troublemaker. So I ran up to the top level and into the bathroom. Shawn and Eric were both waiting there. They locked the door behind me and immediately pushed me to my knees.

That started a new routine. Every day at recess after lunch, I would suck Shawn and Eric to orgasm, and then Shawn would tell me what time to go to the bathroom the next morning. Each morning at the time he told me, he and Eric would be waiting in the upstairs bathroom to use my mouth. Their recess blowjobs stayed the same, but they would start to get more creative when they had a locked room and 5 or 10 minutes to use me (being young, they came fast, so they had time to add new bits to their fun).

They started having me take off my clothes before sucking them in the bathroom. That scared me, but I wasn’t about to tell them no. One time they brought in a shot glass, and both of them came into it instead of my mouth, and told me to drink it. I did, naturally, even though I never learned to like the taste of cum.

One day, Shawn even brought in a little milk carton. You know the little cardboard chocolate milk deals? Before I sucked either of them off, they told me they wanted me to drink what was in it. It was a little over half full. Apparently Shawn and Eric had both been storing their cum in it. Must not have been for long, or it would have been much fuller, but it was still more cum than I’d ever had at once. It smelled awful, and I cried, but I did drink every drop I could get out of it. I did anything Shawn said, it didn’t matter.

Shawn decided that he wanted rim-jobs too, though Eric never really did. I really didn’t want to do that, it was way too gross. I cried, and said ‘Please no’ and all those little things that never matter in the end. Shawn didn’t have to hurt me; this time he just told me to over and over until I started licking his butt.

Once I did it, I immediately realized it wasn’t that bad. I actually preferred licking his butt to sucking his dick, because sometimes I gagged when his dick touched my throat, but kissing and sucking on his ass never actually hurt me.

Shawn absolutely loved for me to eat his ass. He would have me do it as long as he could get away with it, whether from behind, or just down between his legs. I realize now how obscene it really was, a third grader kneeling naked on the bathroom floor, sucking on a 7th graders asshole while another 7th grader waited for his blowjob.

At that age, it never occurred to me though. I was just doing what they wanted me to, and they were nice to me because of it. They kept kids from picking on me when they were around, they didn’t beat me or say mean things to me. Understanding it or not, I liked it. Not sexually, but just because it was almost like having friends.

All of this is 100% true. It went on for much longer, and got much sicker before it ended. I finally transferred schools in 7th grade, and nothing like that ever happened again. I never saw Shawn, or Eric, or any of the other kids who got involved again. I don’t know what I would do if I ever did.

This is the first time I’ve ever said anything about it. ANYTHING. None of the story has ever come out of me, either verbally or written. I feel a little bad actually, because I DID promise Shawn I’d never tell anyone. But he’s not going to get into trouble, and he certainly got his use from me, so I guess the internet is the perfect place to leave this out in the open.

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