"MY WORD IS LAW!"

Can you imagine these lovelies hanging at the end of a rope?

     The cruel despot stood atop the dais in the center of the huge arena. All about him, on a triggered platform, stood young men...five thousand in number...ranging in age from sixteen to twenty-three. They were dressed all in black...long-sleeved, hooded and gloved sweatshirts, baggy shorts, socks and sneakers. Their tanned legs were bare from the top of their thighs to just below their calves. Their hands were tied behind their backs, their feet at the ankles. Between their feet, securely tied to their ankle-bindings, were thirty-pound weights. Nooses were placed snugly about their necks.

     The despot looked all about him. He smiled as he gazed at the multitude that were about to be executed. Then, his smile faded and his countenance grew somber and serious.

     "You all know the law...that no legs shall be shown by any man", he shouted. Then, pointing down at the five thousand youths, he continued: "These youths sought to usurp that law. They have failed...and now they shall pay the supreme price, dressed as they wished to be".

     The despot turned to look at the executioner whose hand would activate the trigger and send the five thousand young men to their deaths. He turned once more to look at the black-clothed youths who stood there...waiting silently for their end. As he gazed at them, the despot nodded his head...and the trigger was pressed.

     As the audience watched, the floors beneath the young men fell out from under them and the weights fell to the ground. As they did, there was a horrendous sound as all five thousand necks snapped simultaneously. Crimson stained the inside of each hood as arteries, veins and capillaries broke and blood spewed from the tear ducts, noses and mouths. Urine and liquid feces poured down the front and back of the legs of the suspended youths as their bowels and bladders contracted involuntarily. Then, the arena went silent...save for the soft dripping of human waste from the twitching sneaker-covered feet of the condemned.

     One person alone laughed maniacally. The despot clapped his hands and tears of joy flowed from his eyes as he watched the death throes rippling through the bare thighs, knees and calves of the hanged youths, triggered by electrical impulses from their brains as they were suddenly disrupted.

     Suddenly, all was silent once again as the despot looked around him for approval to the mass-hanging. But, there was none.

     "What is wrong with you people?" he shouted. "I am the supreme ruler of this land. My word is law!!! These youths broke the law...and breaking the law means death!"

     He looked about him some more.

     Still...silence.

     "When I sentence people to hang publicly", he roared, "I expect to hear sounds of praise...applause...and laughter!"

     Still...silence.

     "Laugh!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, almost drowning out the crack that came from behind him.

     The despot fell dead over the wall in front of him, the back of his head blown open. Behind him stood a young man, dressed identically as the condemned, a smoking gun in his hand. As he dropped the gun onto the floor, the young man fell to his knees...and began to laugh.

     Soon, the arena was filled with laughter and applause. Not for the deaths of the five thousand youths who hung in the arena, their spasms slowly coming to an end, their paling legs stained yellow and brown...but for the one man who ordered them hanged.

THE SOCCER TEAM "CUMMINGS"

     After our initial night of "patty-cake" (which is what my gym teacher called the little game we did with each other), Mr. Michaels recommended I try out for several team sports...especially ones that required me to wear shorts. Hell, I knew I was athletically adept! Why not join some teams and let everybody else in the school see it? So, I decided to take Mr. Michaels up on his offer. I tried out for the three sports in which shorts are the norm...tennis, lacrosse and, my favorite, soccer. I won places on all three teams...as well as in baseball and basketball.

     On the school's soccer team, I got the place of goalie...which meant that all I had to do was to keep the opposing team from scoring a point. Of course, though, there were times when the kicker on the other team was faster than I was and managed to get the ball past me to score a point for his team. Besides making certain that the opposing never got a point, I had to throw the ball back into play if I stopped it by the use of my hands. When I did, I always made certain that the player I threw the ball closest to would be a teammate. And if the ball should miss one of them and make it nearer to an opposing player...boy, would I be in for a ribbing!!!

     There were also time when we would celebrate wholeheartedly if we won. One of these ways that we would celebrate would be "cumming". After my experiences with Mr. Michaels (who was also the supervisory coach of the soccer team), I was well-accustomed to the art...and since none of the other guys ever knew what it was or what it curtailed, Mr. Michaels asked me, as he had in the gym class, to demonstrate to the other team members by being the "cummee".

     After our most recent win, the team met inside the locker room, where, as the "cummee", I was instructed to lay face down upon the broad bench with my hands at my sides and the front of my knees (which were the only parts of my legs that were exposed) off the bench, giving the back of my knees that straight, hard look and feel that they had with Pierre and Jean-Paul years ago. Mr. Michaels then asked if any other boy on the team had an itchy crotch. One did...and it fell upon him to cum the back of my knees. The boy unzipped the fly of his soccer shorts, reached deep into his briefs, pulled out his penis and proceeded to rub it vigorously. Soon, his cum began to pour onto the back of my knees...and onto my shorts and knee socks as well.

     Did I mind that his cum was wetting my shorts and knee socks? Of course not! All I could think about was the feeling of utter exhilaration as his cum poured onto my knees. The other boys were able to see the look of total gratification on my face as I lifted my face from the bench. When I opened my eyes, I saw them looking at me...looking like the proverbial cat which swallowed the canary. I knew that I was finally caught in the act. That was the first time the other boys knew what my sexual pleasures were. Now, they knew that I loved having the back of my knees cummed. I knew that they would always pick on me to be the cummee. Why, even Mr. Michaels put it down in the team rule book that "after each win, the goalie shall lie face down upon the locker room bench to get the back of his knees cummed by each member of the team".

     But, I didn't mind being the so-called "scapegoat" for the team. Since that first time in the locker room, when Mr. Michaels cummed the back of my legs, I loved it. And I knew he loved it, too. Now, the other members of the soccer team would know the feeling of sexual gratification...and, hopefully, come to love it as I had.

MY GYM TEACHER'S LOVING HANDS

     You may be wondering...during my four years in the private boys' school which I attended, what was my favorite class? Well, I liked them all...but my favorite had to have been the ninety-minute gym class. Why? Because this was the only class where I could rid myself of the black constrictions that encased my legs, which were now starting to develop much more beautifully. As soon as the bell rang, I ran through the halls to get to the gym's locker room...just so I could change into my gym uniform!

     And, what a uniform it was! The uniform was all black...a black short-sleeved shirt (with the school's crest on the left breast), black shorts (with the crest at the left thigh) and black sneakers. The black dress socks doubled as our gym socks. As I sat, fully-clothed in my gym uniform and putting on my sneakers, I glanced down and fantasized about how I would look laying face down at attention on the broad locker room bench with the other boys staring down at me...especially at the back of my legs. Ever since that day with Pierre and Jean-Paul, draped across the back of my thighs and knees, I have had such fantasies.

     A shrill whistle aroused me from my reverie. It was the teacher, Mr. Michaels (a veritable Dennis Quaid look-alike), blowing his whistle, signalling the beginning of the class. We all ran out from the locker room and into the gym, an ocean of white amid waves of black. To start the class off, Mr. Michaels had us do our warm-up exercises...jumping-jacks, sit-ups, squat thrusts and, last but not least, push-ups. Now, with our hot blood rushing through our veins, we were ready to begin the day's class. Mr. Michaels, resplendent in his black gym uniform (like ours), paced back and forth, relating the course of what we were going to learn this day. As he did so, I took notice of the slightly bulging muscles in his well-contoured thighs and calves...well-proportioned and well-developed over years of working out as well as teaching. As he walked past me, I gazed at the back of his legs, the thigh and calf muscles tapering into the knees. But, the one thing that I really took notice of was how very little hair Mr. Michaels had on his legs. Possibly the result of working out.

     When Mr. Michaels had finished telling us of the day's course, he called on me to demonstrate the exercise. In this exercise, I was to climb a rope and slip my feet through two handles...and dangle upside down. While I dangled there, Mr. Michaels placed his hands against my calves, sliding them down along my knees and thighs. As he explained my posture to the rest of the class, I realized just how gentle this man's touch on my legs really was. I was then told to put my hands behind my head and arch my back so as to give my body an angular pose. When I had done so, Mr. Michaels again stroked his hands against my legs, this time touching both the back and the front...and stroking my penis.

     Then, it happened! I could feel the itch in my crotch and the tickle in my penis. No, I thought to myself. I can't let it happen now!

     Slowly, the itching and the tickling subsided. Of course, Mr. Michaels was still touching my legs...but I managed to control my urge. As the demonstration ended, I began to clumsily remove my feet from the handles and fell to the mat. While the other boys laughed hysterically, Mr. Michaels approached me and whispered to me. It appeared he wanted me to come to the gym later that evening and he would help me with my awkwardness. He also told me to dress in my gym uniform for the tutoring.

     After gym class was over, I redressed in my school uniform and went to my other classes. But, all through the rest of the day, I dreamned about returning to the gym later that evening in my gym uniform...and feeling Mr. Michaels's gentle hands stroking my legs once more. When the final school bell rang, I immediately made my way to the gym, only to find the doors locked. I pounded on the door. Mr. Michaels, still dressed in his gym uniform, unlocked the door from the inside and welcomed me into the gym, re-locking the door after I entered.

     As Mr. Michaels went into his office, I entered the locker room, went to my locker and changed into my gym uniform. But, I hadn't noticed that Mr. Michaels was watching me the entire time while I was dressing. When I was finished, I rushed into the gym, nearly colliding with Mr. Michaels, who was exiting his office. He told me to take the same pose I took for the class's demonstration. I climbed the rope and hooked my feet through the handles. As I dangled there, upside down, I not only found out how loving Mr. Michaels's hands were upon my legs...but how wet his tongue was as well.

     To my amazement, Mr. Michaels was not only touching the back of my bare legs...he was licking them!!! I was then that I also discovered just how strong his teeth were as he bit the back of my legs...first, my thighs...then, my calves...and, finally, my knees. As I dangled there, whimpering so slightly with tears rolling out from my eyes, Mr. Michaels licked the back of my legs once more, all the time relating how he will see to it that worse things would happen to me if I ever told anybody about what he was doing.

     Mr. Michaels helped me down from the rope and accompanied me into the locker room, where he continued physically "assaulting" me. As i had fantasized, Mr. Michaels had me lie face down upon the broad bench and got on top of me, placing his knees upon my head. Holding my hands at my sides, he once again began licking and chewing the back of my legs, fervently smacking his lips each time he raised his head. After he dismounted, he unzipped his shorts. Then, towering over me, he exposed his manly penis and began stroking it. Soon, his cum began gushing out onto the back of my legs. It was so surprisingly cool that I began to calm down and accept what was happening to me. When his cum had petered out, he reached down and began to smooth it all over my thighs, knees and calves with his bare hands! To my amazement, I wasn't feeling abused or assaulted anymore. Just like that day, when I was playing with the brothers and Jean-Paul's saliva was running down the back of my knee, I was actually beginning to love the feel of Mr. Michaels's smooth white cum soaking my legs.

     When he had finished, Mr. Michaels replaced his penis inside his underwear, zipped up his shorts and took the same position on the bench as I had and, as I mounted his back, reached up and grabbed the back of my knees. Ecstasy was indeed etched on my face as I began to lick and chew his thighs, knees and calves. His muscles were so lean and well-defined that each lick and bite were sheer pleasure. Then, feeling the itching and tickling that I had earlier that day in class, I now decided to follow my urge. I rose to my feet, extended my penis and, stroking it vigorously, cummed Mr. Michaels's thighs, knees and calves, kneeling when I was finished and spreading the cum all over his well-proportioned legs.

     When all was finished, we sat together on the bench and looked at each other, panting and sweating. I could see the look of ecstasy on Mr. Michaels's face...and he could see it on mine. When we had retreated to the showers to wash the now-dried cum off each of our legs, we spoke about meeting again and repeating the night's "performance".

     However, Mr. Michaels and I would have only a few more nights of sexual gratification together. Halfway through my sophomore year, Mr. Michaels stopped coming to the gym. What happened to him? Was he already dissatisfied with me? Was what he was doing to me discovered? Was he terminated?

     Terminated!

     What a strange choice of words. Yes, he was terminated...for the police found him dead in his apartment in town. He was found hanging from the rafter in his livingroom, clad only in his tee-shirt and boxers...his neck, throat, arms and legs shredded and bloodied. Apparently, I thought, another "student" was not as satisfied with Mr. Michaels as I was.

     To this day, I still dream of Mr. Michaels's loving touch and of how he made me discover myself.

GOOD GUYS/BAD GUYS

     Can you recall the first time you've ever had sexual gratification? Can you remember where it happened, what you were doing and how you were dressed when you had it?

     I can!!! I can remember my first encounter very well.

     It was mid-summer in 1979 and we were in the middle of a blistering heat wave. It was over 100 degrees in the shade and the only way to escape the heat was either to go swimming or play so vigorously that we became too ignorant as to just how hot it really was.

     Some friends and I were playing a game of "good guys and bad guys". I was dressed in a light brown short-sleeved shirt, mid-thigh denim short pants, white athletic knee socks and sneakers. Oh, I was an absolute picture of a handsome young man that day! On this day, I (and a couple of my friends) were playing the "bad guys". We were using air-powered paintball guns. When fired, the compressed air gave the water-based paintballs a cool feeling when they splattered against the body. We played our game in an open field near the school we attended. Since the school was closed for the summer, we were permitted to use the small park and game field that bordered the school.

     Our game was proceeding very well when, suddenly, I was struck in the center of my back by an extremely COLD red paintball. As soon as I felt it splatter against my back, I immediately dropped to my knees and slowly fell forward onto my stomach...but not before at least two more struck me on the outer side of my left thigh and the left side of my head just above my ear. I stiffened my legs in such a way that the front of my knees were off the ground and the back of my legs were straight and hard. Two of my teammates, a nine-year-old French-Canadian boy named Pierre and his six-year-old brother, Jean-Paul, dropped to the ground and took cover behind my prone body, using my stiff thighs and knees to steady their guns and aim them at our adversaries. As they did so, I was able to feel more paintballs (smaller ones than those which struck me in the back, thigh and head) beginning to pelt my left thigh and knee. How did I feel as all this was going on? You have to remember...I was dead! And yet, feeling my friends' bare arms and hands upon my well-formed pre-adolescent flesh filled me with such rapture that something happened which I had never experienced before in my young life.

     Cum began to squirt from my small penis and into my underwear!!!

     You want to know something else about this? Something strangely funny? I didn't care! I knew that the longer I lay face down on the grass and the more prepubescent cum gushed into my underwear, they would become drenched and leave a spot of incredible size upon the front of my short pants. But, something happened while this was going on that soon made me forget all about the wetness. The out-rush of the cum was accompanied by such a strong tickling sensation deep inside my penis way down to my balls! I knew I couldn't reveal that I was feeling it...otherwise our adversaries would know something happened. So, what do you think I did?

     I lay there on my stomach and smiled!!!

     Yes, the feeling was so ecstatic that my "dead" face smiled. But, since I was facing away from our adversaries, they couldn't see the look of utter satisfaction that was on my face. But, as gratifying as all this was, it couldn't compare with what happened next. Pierre and Jean-Paul rose to their knees and started firing a barrage of paintballs at our adversaries until their guns...and their luck...ran out. Red paintballs from the other team struck first Pierre and then his brother and they pitched forward across my body...Pierre on my rump, his left shoulder and arm draping down the length of my left thigh and knee, and Jean-Paul, with his mouth agape, his face lying across the back of my right knee, his exposed tongue dripping saliva onto it. Unknown to them...even as our adversaries stood over our dead bodies...the smile on my face broadened and my closed eyes rolled about in absolute ecstasy. Yes, with the cum drenching my underwear and Jean-Paul's drooling tongue on the back of my knee, I began to know what true gratification felt like. I was indeed in seventh heaven!!!

     Was this the end of our game? Hardly! Our adversaries decided that they would end the game by delivering a coup-de-grace to our prostrate bodies. Each boy from the opposite team fired one final paintball...behind our ears! Now, the game was truly ended.

     As we rose to our feet, laughing, each of us examined the extent of the "damage" inflicted on us. Red paint "stained"  the complete back of my shirt and ran down both sides of my head...just as Jean-Paul's drool ran down the back of my right knee and wet the top of my knee sock. But, that wasn't all. Pierre looked down at the fly of my short pants and noticed the huge wet spot. Turning me away from the other boys, he asked me if I had peed in my pants. I told him I hadn't...but that something much more beautiful and gratifying had happened.

     And, with the sun setting on our fun, we all returned to our homes to clean up...as if nothing had happened that day. But, I knew the truth...that this was just the first time I would experience the full pleasure of "cumming" in my underwear and short pants. I would experience it again and again in years to come. After all, I was only eight years old...and my whole life was still ahead of me.

INTRODUCTION

Greetings, male friends...old and new alike!!!



     Welcome to my Short Pants and Legs Fetish home page. In these pages, you will find anything and everything you could ever dream of about my short pants and legs fetish. Unlike another well-known fetishist who also loves short pants, I do not have a fetish for toy balloons...unless those balloons are filled with paint and placed on the "crack" between the back of my legs or the legs of other young men. You see, I just love to look at the back of well-proportioned male legs and having other young men (teenagers and adults alike) looking at the back of mine! I drool at the thought of looking at male hams (thighs to the layman), knees and calves that are young, well-built, tanned and, especially, shaved. I cannot abide male legs that are hirsute, fatty or too muscular. I prefer to look at male legs that are modelesque and slender, with just the right amount of meat on them...with very little gristle.

     In these chronicles, you will read stories of fantasy as well as reality of the pure pleasure of looking at, and being looked at by, other young men like myself who just love wearing short pants and showing off their beautifully, masculine legs.

     What will not be shown here will be anything of a pornographic nature. There will be stories of sexual gratification at seeing other young men wearing short pants and other young men seeing me dressed likewise.

     THIS IS AN ADULT SITE!!!

     If you find stories of a sexual nature vile and offensive or you are under 18 years of age

     PLEASE LEAVE NOW!

     If you have an interest in wearing and being seen in short pants of any kind or looking at other young men who wear them, whether you have a fetish or not, you may be interested in my Related Links page. Here, you will find such tales as:

     Good Guys/Bad Guys, a tale of a young boy's sexual gratification in short pants.

     My Word Is Law!, a short tale of a despot who executes young men who are dressed in short pants.

     The Body, a murder mystery with plenty of male legs...and short pants.

...and tales of truth and fantasy about short pants and the legs displayed by them. You will read stories of some of my friends as well as tales of myself...a male model who would rather be photographed, and seen, in short pants and swim trunks than any other form of clothing...and with my back to the camera!!!

     The Chronicles's sections are featured according to certain periods when my interests in short pants and my own legs became a crucial part of my life. These periods are as follows:

      Chronicle #1 - The Early Years - This chronicle features me from my somewhat "strange" birth in 1971 to when I discovered who, and where, my father was twelve years later. Here, you will also read about my first fun encounter with other boys.

      Chronicle #2 - The Adolescent and College Years (1983-1993) - This chronicles my early years with my father, my first taste of the tropical life in Florida, my four years in boarding school (where one teacher gave my legs their first hands-on treatment...as well as tongue and teeth treatments...and taught me and my classmates to appreciate my legs) and my return to Florida to attend college. Here, you will also learn of how I excelled in sports and started my career as an actor...and received many more modeling assignments.

     Chronicle #3 - My Adult Years (1994-The Present) - The details of my decisions to make the BIG move to the west coast...and to take the plunge.

     Chronicle #4 - Fun & Games...At School & Home - This section relates how other boys gave my legs their own brands of hands-on (and mouth-on) treatment.

     Chronicle #5 - Grandfather's Punishments - This part primarily deals with however my maternal grandfather chose to punish me when I lived with my mother.

     There is also a segment in which I shall tell About Me and My Fetishes, stories of what some of my college buddies and I do whenever we get together. Some of these stories will really drive you crazy and have you climbing the walls!

     My Fantasies is a section in which I will relate what I would like to do while wearing short pants...not only to myself, but to other young men in short pants and what they would do to me.

     Shorts and Legs Fantasies would deal primarily with how my wife and I play around both in our bed and on the beach at night. Real kinky!

     If you have similar fetishes and wish to relate your experiences, Send Me Some Feedback at sashak5871@aol.com. And don't forget to leave your e-mail address. I may wish to contact you. But remember...I am an actor and model! My schedule is tedious at times and, if you do leave an e-mail address, it may take a little time for me to answer you...but I will answer!!!