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The following stories claim to be the autobiography of Nicky, a boy model in the 1960s. The reader will have to decide whether they are fiction or autobiography. In some places, Nicky wrote about real people and real places, almost all of whom (by 2021) are either dead or in hiding. He narrates events and actions which were illegal then and are illegal now, and if you do not wish to read about sex between men and boys, you should stop now–especially if your place of residence has laws against reading such material. None of this material is intended to encourage anyone to break any laws anywhere. You have been warned.

If you enjoy this, you may contact the author at ail The full series of Nicky”s life has already been written, and will continue to be posted.

Will you join your fellow authors and readers to support Nifty? To contribute discreetly to the continuing operations of the Nifty Erotic Stories Archive website using a credit card or other methods of donation, go to Nifty.

Nicky writes:


After my return from Camp Flying Cloud in August 1965 I was really in the throes of puberty and pretty much buried myself in swimming, running, and school work. My mother helped me to accept my intense sexuality and identity, but I saw only few photographers or artists in those months. I did continue to model for the artist (a woman) who had drawn me in the Spring, and she was very kind, allowing my nudity and the physical responses (erections and spontaneous orgasms) that I could not control then. It felt great to have her acceptance and support. Ted and I did not go out to see Mr. Quirk at Metecue that Fall.

My school had the whole week of Thanksgiving off, and once again my mom was happy for Uncle Ted to take me off her hands. I left school at day early, and we flew to New York that Friday, and then took the train up to New Haven. I had heard of Yale, of course, but had no real idea what it might be like. Once in New Haven, we stayed at the old Taft Hotel. Ted made sure I was in an appropriate shirt and tie in New Haven.

We went there to meet one of Ted”s friends, George Parker Rossman, whom he befriended at Yale. Rossman was some kind of professor and minister. He first came to see us at the Hotel and then we walked around the “old campus” of Yale, then men only. Like my school, Yale was off for the week, but some men were outside because it was a warm November day. One young man, thin and muscular, wearing a track his family seemed to take that pretty much business as usual. They weren”t very warm together. His wife rarely said anything, and left us to our own devices.

The next day (Saturday) Parker drove Ted and me out of New Haven up into some hills, down a country road, to a small house next to a wide driveway with a gate. He went in to talk with the old couple that apparently managed the place, and brought out some keys. After the old man opened the gate, we drove up a long, winding lane to the carriage house in back of a truly impressive estate house, brick and white trim, very private. We went inside; Parker seems to know his way around, and turned up the heat. It had very formal parlors and drawing rooms downstairs, an enclosed and heated pool in the back, and a maze of bedrooms and hallways upstairs. From a balcony I could see Long Island Sound. Then we went up to the third floor: more bedrooms, but they all opened into each other with side doors, and were furnished much more casually, almost like a college or private school.

“Pick any one you like,” said Parker, “the rest of the boys will be here later.” I did not know what was going on, and asked about it.

“Some boys are coming over for a week or so, and I”ll be doing some research here with several other men,” said Parker, “you”ll see how it works out.”

I wondered why he was being so evasive, but he was so charming about it that I let it go.

A while later, a VW van pulled up outside and six boys got out, and their older driver. We went downstairs to meet them at the back door. They were all prep-school boys a couple of years older than I; Parker introduced me. A couple of them glanced at each other when he told them my age. Each of them had brought a duffel bag with a few clothes, books, and things, and took them upstairs to the third floor where they each picked a room. Max, who seemed to be some kind of leader, told me to choose a slightly larger room that faced south, because it would stay warmer. It was already pretty warm up there, and all the boys began to strip. That was a pleasant surprise, so I stripped also.

“What exactly do we do here?” I asked Max.

“It”s called research, or art, but basically several older guys watch us, ask questions, a few draw us, and most have sex with us, or watch us have sex,” Max said plainly. “It”s fun for a few days–sure is a break from school.”

Suddenly it dawned on me: a boy party. I had heard of these, but never had taken part before. This was exciting, and immediately I hardened. Max noticed my half-erection and just laughed, “Yeah, there”s a lot of that. Just wait.”

One of the boys knew where the closet with towels were, and they eagerly each took one and went downstairs to the pool. I eagerly joined them –the water was warm, and it felt good to get wet again, nude as always.

I soon learned that Parker seemed to know everyone. The boy who had spoken to us at Yale showed up in a little Fiat with two more boys, so there were nine of us total. They all had names like Spencer, Aldrich, and Pierpont, the last also called “bunny” because he really liked to fuck, in both positions. They came from schools like Choate, Kent, and Salisbury –Parker got the best, that”s for sure. I don”t know how Parker contacted these boys; most were suggested to him by other boys or were younger brothers or cousins of boys Parker had hosted previously. They all seemed to know exactly what would be going on.

The real surprise to me was Maury from camp, Jeff”s older brother, who had already fucked me several times. That realization alone made me go totally erect, but no one seemed escort ankara to notice or particularly care. “Is Jeff coming?” I asked; “No, he”s too young for Hotchkiss, so he”s home–but I can tell everyone a lot about you;” Maury grinned. He was just different enough from Jeff that I did not see their similarity at first, but it was a huge relief and turn-on that he was there. I wondered why Jeff was not going to be there, but I let it go. In future years, I would see him Parker”s circle of boys.

I gathered that most of these boy”s parents did not really understand really what was going on . To them, this was some kind of retreat run by a Yale professor. To several other parents, this was a healthy outlet for their boys, and apparently they knew all about it and approved completely. Times were different, and for some family sexualized children was a very “modern” thing. I”m sure that Jeff”s and Maury”s parents knew all about it.

Later that afternoon, several men joined Parker: George Brehm, Morris Fraser, and Dennis Nichols was also from Michigan and was a professor at WMU. An artist also came, and one photographer, whose name I can”t trace or remember. Ted was there, but very much off on his own with his lens business.

What Max had said was right: several times over the next days Parker would take me aside to ask me questions about how I liked sex, what I liked, what kind of man I liked to have sex with, and why, and my previous experiences. He asked if I thought I was “consenting,” a word I did not really know, so he just asked me, “do you really like having sex with men?” (“Sure do!” I answered.)

I don”t know whether the whole concept of consent really meant much to me then. Men asked me to do things, and I did them–that”s how boys were raised then. Parker was fascinated by my mother and her attitude and manner of caring for me, and I told him about Gretchen as well. I demonstrated how I gave myself an enema, and how I got so hard afterwards, and Parker stroked me to orgasm. I taught several of the other boys how to do a quick enema, so that everyone would be clean, and all week there was a lot of fucking.

I was also photographed, drawn, and observed having sex with three or four other boys, especially with Maury. Basically, there were two boys for every man, so usually a man would ask us to have sex with another boy while he watched, sometimes touching us and kissing one of us. This kind of sex could happen anywhere in the house, so on the balcony, sheltered from the wind, and the weather was warm and sunny. Since I was the youngest and smallest boy, I was the natural bottom boy, and every other boy fucked me that week at least twice.

On the second night I experienced one of my spontaneous orgasms and ejaculations while sitting next to Parker and another boy on a sofa while we watched TV –Flipper I believe. Maybe Luke Halpin and Tommy Norden made me shoot –nice to think anyway. Parker loved it, furiously scribbling notes to himself.

The next day, Parker asked me a lot of questions about my spontaneous orgasms. As I lay out in front of him on a sofa, he fingered me in just the right way to make me cum without once touching my cock. During the week, he did that several times while some other boys watched–then one or two of those boys would fuck me (and I would cum again). Parker was the first one to restrain me during sex (with those boys), and I really began to like light restraints. I was never into heavy stuff.

During the days, we could swim, play a board game, sleep, wrestle, talk, even read –all while the men would watch us and ask us questions sometimes. The food was good but very light, the better to work through the boy”s digestive system quickly and cleanly. At night –and darkness came early in November–Parker would speak quietly to each boy, and say, “Martin wants you tonight,” or “I want you tonight,” or Dennis. (Ted did not join in this.)

Usually one of these men had us in pairs or threes. We would go downstairs to one of the big bedrooms on the second floor and use the big beds and sofas in those rooms for all kinds of sex, directed by the man, or including him in some way. Since I was the youngest, at least once each man wanted to me by myself, and mostly would hold, touch, stroke me, suck me, and I would ejaculate for him several times. Only one the men fucked me (Dennis Martin), but most of them did fuck a couple of the older boys. Parker and Dennis watched while two older boys with medium-sized penises fucked me, each while I sucked the other one. It was very relaxing, not stressful, and felt like fun.

On some days, Parker took us into Yale –we could swim at the Payne Whitney pool (always naked for every man and boy then), or see other things. On Thanksgiving Day we dressed nicely and went to Christ Church, a very high Episcopal church where two of the acolytes were Parker”s boys or former boys. We had dinner with the master of one of the colleges in his very elegant apartment, and he asked us a lot of questions about sex and boys, and looked at our photographs from that weekend, and more of mine that Ted showed him. Later that afternoon, the master asked me to stay on with him, and after the others left, I stripped for him and he felt all over my body and made me cum. He wanted one of his Yale boys to come over and fuck me, but that boy wasn”t available somehow. Then he took me back to Parker.

Parker seemed to know everyone and obviously had connections; the house where we stayed was the property of one of the old Yale families with buildings or gates named after them. Grosse Pointe began to seem a bit lower class than these people and surroundings –Parker said that the owners knew who and what we were. These men clearly had the support of very powerful and wealthy people, and they opened that world to us. (Years later I learned that Parker had a lot of contacts in Princeton, and that he paved the way for me there.)

After Thanksgiving most of the boys left on Saturday; Uncle Ted and I stayed in New Haven with Parker”s family, who either knew exactly why we were there, or did not discuss it. His son Terry asked me flat out if I liked the sex–and I answered esenyurt escort truthfully and without any hesitation: “the best.”

I was with Parker several other times in that big house with other boys (including with Jeff, another one of Jeff”s older brothers); sometimes an older woman professor from Yale would come to watch us with Parker. Parker also took me to friends at Deerfield Academy in western Massachusetts, and to the Phillips Academy, Andover, and I played and had sex with boys at those schools. (That was my first connection to Deerfield, where later I attended for a year as the chosen boy of one of Parker”s friends.) Parker and Dennis turned up for parents” weekend at camp one summer (I think my third summer there) and were treated as my parents without any questions. (My mother never came to those weekends, of course.). Parker and Dennis usually liked to suck me, or watch me masturbate; a couple of times I sucked each of them, but not to ejaculation. They also liked to kiss with me, and go to sleep holding me. Only Dennis fucked me (pretty well, I recall).

I don”t have any photographs from Parker”s weekends, only a photograph of him, and one that I am pretty sure is me when I was thirteen at the house outside New Haven, at the top of the stairway down from the third to the second floors. I know that Parker, George, and Martin went on to have some legal troubles in later years; I last saw him in the 1990s when he was working on computer projects; Terry died in a car crash a several years later. I read that Parker died in 2013.

Whatever Parker seemed to be to others, he was always very kind and loving to me, and I really appreciated that he accepted and facilitated my very powerful sex drive. He really understood–one of the few men who could–how being fucked changes a boy. He did not do any of the ridiculous “I understand boys, I”m just like you” thing. He understood that when a man fucks a boy, the boy becomes a different kind of boy. He knew that a boy who liked to be fucked had crossed into a new understanding of himself. He may have seemed a monster to some, but I remember him fondly.

Parker wrote a book, Boys for Sale: A Study of the Prostitution of Young Boys for Sexual Purposes. He wrote about the training of geisha boys in Japan:

At [his trainer”s] home, the boy would spend the evening hours naked with his trainer who would employ sexual play as an everynight form of entertainment. The boy was allowed to satisfy his natural curiosity about his trainer”s genitals, and was allowed and encouraged to touch them and handle them at will. In the course of sex play, the boy was taught to use his tongue on the man”s penis prior to actual fellation. Once the boy became accustomed to tonguing and mouthing the organ, the transition to complete fellatio was simple.

[Japanese trainers] felt that a boy is a delicate instrument to be handled carefully. They believed that a boy during training should always be encouraged to direct his erotic pleasure to his anus. . . . Often boy and trainer would lie in bed for hours with the trainer”s two fingers carefully planted in the boy”s bottom, his fingers making scissoring motions to accustom the anal sphincter to accept insertions pleasurably. . . . During the long training sessions, as he was being gradually prepared for his future life, the boy was able to ask many vital sexual questions and get valid answers from the perfect sources. . . .

In anal intercourse (as well as oral), once the insertion is completed, much of the pleasure consist of lying absolutely still for long periods of time, quivering or moving as little as possible. Penetration may, therefore, continue for hours–without climax but presumably with many near orgasms . . .

. . . the Japanese would say, “I am going to seek my peace in your heaven.” The most common word for anal intercourse meant “to spend the night.” . . . The boy might sit upon the trainer”s lap, facing the man, with his legs spread out over the man”s thighs. This position, in erotic foreplay, enabled the boy to play with the man”s penis as well as allow the man to caress the boy”s back and buttocks, and at the same time inserting a finger or two into his anus. . . . [Later] when the boy fellated him, the position used would enable the man to insert his finger gently, keeping the boy aroused to fever pitch and enhancing his own pleasure in the bargain.

This describes very well the way that Parker and his friends were with boys–I remember that he might have two fingers deep inside me for hours, doing those scissor motions, while gently stroking my penis, and we were silent, just breathing in unison. A little further one, Parker wrote,

In spite of the preparation, the [trainer”s] first actual penile penetration always creates a tremendous impact–especially at the moment of entry. There is an initial shock which has a psychological meaning quite apart from the question of pain. That shock of becoming aware that one is being controlled involuntarily by another. Some have suggested that perhaps a horse being broken consists of coming to terms with the same shock–giving up one”s independence to a rider who holds the reins. When a burning pain is added to the shock, there is more than resignation and acceptance. There is a re-shaping of personality, a loss of identity, and the gain of a new self-understanding. Sartre, in Saint Genet, gives a related interpretation of sexual experience– “I am the helpless one who knows another”s pleasure as pain.”

That is exactly what happened to me with Rick, and then with other men.

That first summer at Camp Flying Cloud, Rick knew he wanted to make my hole bigger, so he produced a black rubber dildo, curved, and told me to practice keeping it inside my anus. It was hard to find time at camp to do this, but I managed to most days for a couple of weeks, mostly the time after I gave myself enemas, which I did when the group shower was not so busy.

After the lights were out at night, and most boys were asleep, Rick allowed us to cuddle up with him–since we slept next to him on the floor of the lean-to, so we could just roll over towards eskişehir escort him. I could touch his big, hard penis and he would hold me close on one side, Jeff on the other. That first night, he put his finger inside my anus, then two, and did this scissors-like movement with them to help stretch me. About that time, I was cuddling with Jeff one night right after lights-out, and ejaculated for the first time. That feeling was amazing. Very soon, Rick could make me cum by doing that scissors motion in my hole with his fingers. He told me often that I was a very good boy, and just made for a man like him.

Rick understood that by fucking me he was going to change me forever, and he wanted to change me (as I later learned I wanted to be changed–I just didn”t realize it at first).

When Rick took us on our first “exploration” to the cabin at the far end of the Camp, we could at last feast on his body. We could touch him everywhere, feel his amazing, hard penis and play with his balls, which seemed big and heavy. I was thrilled to be touching a man”s body so freely.

Rick had more than that in mind. He arranged an old blanket for me to lie on the bunk, and with Jeff at my side he kissed me very deeply, his tongue way down my throat as he ran his hands all over me. He brought out some lube and lubed me deep inside my hole with his fingers, and then lubed up his erect penis. I was on my back, and he folded my legs back and up in the air, and crouched over me. Without saying anything he began to press his, hard penis against my hole, and I felt myself open but could not seem to open enough. He took his penis out, put two fingers in my hole to open me up more, and then started to penetrate me with his penis again.

The only thing he said then was, “look me in the eye, and keep looking at me,” and as I watched him his face grew very determined. He pushed into me, it hurt, I cried out, but he said, “keep looking me in the eye,” and pushed again, and it really hurt. His eyes told me: I will take you and not let you go, you don”t have a choice anymore. Boy, you are not in charge. Jeff was touching me on the side, kissing my shoulder, and Rick said, “I won”t stop because you are a boy and I am a man, and you will give me your cherry, and I will take it now.” By this time I was crying some, but Rick kept pushing into me until he felt it was enough, then he would fuck me back and forth some, then push in deeper, and repeat. As I was crying he told me how much he loved me, and how good this felt for him, and made me promise to be his boy forever.

I recognize how much this was a life-changing event for me; I became a different boy. As I felt him penetrate me slowly, the strength and hardness of his cock overwhelmed me and controlled me, and I knew then how it felt to be controlled by a man, to lose all control, to submit to him totally; he could ride me like a horse. He bent down and fucked my mouth with his tongue, totally took control of my mouth. He was inside me, controlling me from both ends. He took more and more of me, deeper and deeper, until I had nothing more to give him. I was his, a helpless boy impaled on his cock.

As he fucked me back and forth, in deeper and deeper, I was learning to be a boy for a man, to understand myself in a completely new way. My pain was his pleasure, and pleasure was what I could give to him, and love, and loyalty. I felt him grow even harder and grunt more over me, his tongue deep in my mouth again, and his hands holding down my shoulders and around my throat, controlling my breathing, and then I felt him cum, the white heat of his semen deep inside me and I felt him pulse and squeeze me very tight. I knew the experience that every true bottom boy knows: the experience of being used for pleasure. Then I shot everything I had, one of my deepest, shaking cums ever. I had the overwhelming sense, “this is what I am, this is what I”m made for: for a man to fuck.”

I was amazed that after he ejaculated inside me, and we were still together, our breathing was completely synchronized–I had passed out of myself and into him and become part of him, an extension of his penis, a special place he could put his penis whenever he wanted. I was his, and I wanted him to use me in any way he liked.

When he pulled out, I felt so empty. The pain, the feeling of him filling me totally, receiving his strength, his hardness, and his cum, forever bound me to Rick in a very special way. He was my first fuck, my first master, and I was always his boy first. I will always be his boy first.

That day Rick and Jeff and I rested for a while, and then he fucked Jeff, who knew just what to do, and offered no resistance to Rick”s control. Jeff did not seem to feel any pain, and even asked Rick”s permission before he ejaculated. I learned that this was what a boy must do. Rick fucked each of us probably twice a week (or more) for the next six or seven weeks, and in the last couple of weeks another counsellor hiked up with us and fucked us also.

Rick and that counselor “owned” both of us our second summer of 1967. Fucking changed me in so many ways–my spontaneous orgasms, but also my sense of what I could do for and with men, and how they might really want me. I really understood myself as a boy, so that when photographers wanted to fuck me in subsequent years, I was skilled and available.

I began to understand that at least for a while, I could serve men in a special way and I loved the feeling of a man fucking me; I grew to prefer it in fact. Not every client subsequently fucked me–most did not, in fact, but for those who did I was a special value, and my uncle set my price accordingly. It was an adventure to be a fuckboy, and one that the boys at Grosse Pointe schools could not have imagined in any way.

If any of this sounds non-consensual, believe me, I consented to all of it, especially after my first fuck. If you asked me just when Rick”s first fuck started to be painful that afternoon, I would have said no, but then that boy went away and I became a different boy, a boy who always said yes–who wanted men to say yes, too.

I gave myself to Rick, and received back a new boy, a new purpose, and new self-understanding. That old boy went away and I became a boy for men. More than my choice, it was my destiny, my purpose in life for the next several years. (Well, and swimming, and I did fine in school.) I became, essentially, a very high-class whore. I loved it, until I was done, and then I stopped.

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