Date: Tue, 01 Jul 2003 22:44:06 +0100
From: joshua Caddy  <joshuacaddy@lycos.co.uk>
Subject: Antiques Trade Chapter 1

Legal Notice: The following story may contain descriptions of graphic
sexual acts. These acts may be between boys or between a man and a boy. The
story is a work of fiction and has no basis in reality. The author, or his
designee, retains copyright to this story. There may be no reproducing or
distribution of this story without expressed written consent.

Antiques Trade - Chapter 1

You may think that dealing in antiques doesn't rank in the top ten ways of
meeting fit young lads but in making this assumption you would be very
wrong.

I have been working in this game long enough to know that round any
antiques fair there is always a proportion of talent, lads in faded
tee-shirts and dirty jeans, employed to do the lifting and shifting of any
heavy gear. This strenuous activity means that in general they are nicely
toned and the outdoor life means they have a good suntan with all the white
bits in just the right places. Most of the dealers treat these boys like
shit paying them a pittance with the only perks being a place to sleep in
the back of the van.

So now picture the scene, there's all this adolescent talent working up a
sweat all day and then sleeping in the back of a van at night. So what's
the thing they all want, other than the obvious that is? Answer somewhere
to have a shower. Now that's where I come in.

 You seen I've made my money in antiques and not wanting to give up the
trade (you will see why later) I've made my life a lot more comfortable
equipping myself with the largest caravan available. This mobile palace has
all the mod cons including a large shower cubicle.

Not long after getting this monster I was approached by one of the porters
(the more usual name for the fairs talent) asking if he could use my
facilities. It had been a long hot summer's day with little breeze and even
fewer punters so to say I was pissed off was an understatement. Anyway, I
was in the process of closing the only promising deal of the day so far
when this porter comes up and asks if he can use the shower in my
caravan. Not wanting the distraction I snap at him telling him to piss off
and come back later on. You can tell I was in the process of flogging a
crap reproduction table to an American tourist for a large wad as I didn't
really notice the sweaty teenager begging a favour from me. Normally he
would have had my undivided attention.

Well the yank parts with a large wad of greenbacks for a really crap table
and I forget about the porter. After this the trade picks up and keeps me
busy for the rest of the afternoon. As the fair shut for the night I'm sat
outside the caravan soaking up a good bottle of wine and gloating on the
gullibility of American tourists up he comes again with a towel under his
arm and looks at me expectantly. It's at this point that I get my first
good look at Jason.

We all have fantasies about our ideal bum boy. He could be tall, short fair
dark hung like a racehorse etc. Well hear was mine in the flesh. Jason
looked to be around 16 but could be a good couple of years younger. He was
about 5'6, straw blond hair plastered to his forehead with sweat making his
sapphire blue puppy dog eyes all the more noticeable. Dressed in a shabby
Guinness tee shirt and a pair of denim cut-offs he looked like he had been
dragged though all the muck off the fair. This good covering of filth could
not disguise the body beneath. Jason was what is described as skinny but
with a fine structure of muscles and prominent veins along his arms.

I don't know about you but if one thing jerks my chain its lads with veins
that stand out on their smooth arms which usually means the same in the
tops of their legs.

His cut-offs were chopped a little higher than what you would normally
expect, so much so that his black boxers were peeking below them showing a
snoopy motif. His legs were long, firm and tanned to such an extent that
the light dusting of blond hair was rendered almost translucent. This was
excentuated by the white football socks rumpled around the top of his
scruffy Nike trainers.

I must have sat and stared at him for about a minute because he looks at me
a bit funny and asks "So can I use your shower then". Startled out of my
ecstatic contemplation of this visitation of sex on legs I say sure go on
in and I'll turn the boiler on for you.

Gulping the last of the wine I followed Jason into the caravan coping a
good look at his firm young arse gliding under the faded denim as he
climbed up the steps. In his wake was the unmistakable perfume of the young
male, a combination of sweat and designer deodorant. I have often though
how good it would be if I could bottle this intoxicating scent.

Once inside the caravan my shock had just about worn off and so remembering
my manners I asked Jason if he would like a cold beer. The smile, which
greeted this offer, was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. So
diving into the refrigerator I told Jason to find somewhere to sit down. I
should tell you at this point that I am not the tidiest person in the world
so suffices to say that the caravan was something of a tip. Clothes, old
booze bottles, various antiques were scattered over all the surface and the
odd bit of gay porn visible in an open cupboard. I have to say that it's
not common knowledge about my particular penchant for fit young lads and so
to maintain this fiction I casually shut the cupboard door as I handed
Jason a bottle of beer hoping he hadn't noticed the hard-core porn
contained within.

Whilst Jason drank the beer and I began to destroy another bottle of claret
we chatted about the fair and stuff. Whilst my day hadn't gone so bad the
dealer who Jason worked for had taken little brass and was well pissed
off. Jason told me that he had been working for Frank since he left
school. He had jumped at the first opportunity to get away from home so the
life following the antiques game suited him. There was something about this
that did not ring true. The way in which Jason describe his life around the
fairs gave the impression that he had been doing it for far longer than his
story indicated.

After what seemed like only ten minutes I realised that the tide had gone
out in the bottle of claret this prompted me to look at my watch. I had
been talking with Jason for over an hour. Doesn't time fly when you're
having fun. Jason noticed me looking at my watch and thought I was wanting
him to go away or something.  So he hastily stood up and asks if the boiler
has heated up for the shower.

Whilst I was disappointed that our talk was over the prospect of a glimpse
of more of Jason was enticing to say the least. So indicating the shower
cubical at the end of the van I told him to go have a ball.

Ever since I had bought the caravan the door to the shower had stuck
two-inch short of closing properly and being the idle bugger I am I had
never got round to fixing it. See it does pay to be idle.

Anyway, Jason went into the cubicle and pulled the door shut. At first I
didn't realise that the door was open a little wider than where it started
to stick but as I looked I realised that this door was open wider than it
should be. Hello I thought this might be interesting.

Jason started to get undressed. First he removed his faded black tee shirt
pulling it over smooth sun burnished skin, passed erect chocolate brown
nipples, one of which was pierced with a small silver bar and over his
tousled, long corn blond hair. The golden hair in his armpits was barely
visible, highlighted only by the stale sweat matting it together. His firm
tight stomach was marked with a patina of bruising, a patchwork of blue and
yellow marks blended into the gold of a summer working in the sun.

I began to wonder who could bring themselves to beat up a lad as cute as
Jason.

Through the gap in the door I could see Jason turn around and remove the
patched denim cut-offs, pulling them past his loose boxers and over the
shabby trainers. Whilst bending over to take off his shorts the top of his
bum peeped out above the elasticised band of his cartoon boxers showing
were the golden tan ended and the white of his modesty began. Sitting on
the shower stool he pulled off his trainers and then pealed off the long
white football socks to reveal a pair of perfectly shaped feet. Whilst
positioned on the stool it was possible for me to peer into the dark recess
of his boxer shorts, straining to see a glimpse of the treasures within.

Once unencumbered by his footwear Jason leaned back against the shower wall
and began to gently caress the front of his boxers. As he fondled himself
through the thin material I fond myself mirroring his actions over the top
of my 501's, stroking my growing erection to its fullest extent. He
continued his gentle ministrations on himself for five minutes and then
enticed his boyhood through the front opening of his boxers, allowing the
uncut head to peep out of the dark opening. With firm hands he commenced to
tease his perfect foreskin back and forth over the velvety bell end,
stretching the pliable skin to its elastic limit, thus allowing the gentle
caress of pain to show on his soft hairless face. As this masochistic act
continued more and more of his tool became visible revealing what a monster
it was. Jason's cock must have been eight inch long and he struggled to get
his hand all the way around the shaft. He continued to pull on his foreskin
for what seemed like an eternity, the enjoyment he gained from this action
was clearly visible on his face. With his eyes closed you could see the
transportation to ecstasy building within his lithe body, crossing his face
in waves of bliss he was building towards a climax of which a tidal wave
would be envious. Then he stopped dead. After a moment's contemplation he
gave his massive tool one single full length stroke, stood up, turned
around and dropped his boxers to the floor of the shower cubicle.

The twin white globes of smooth boy flesh were up tilted in my direction as
he slowly bent over to pick up his discarded underwear. The cleft between
his smooth white buttocks slightly parted to reveal a tightly puckered pink
boypussy devoid of a single hair. The joy of viewing this perfection of
boyhood was spoiled by the ugly wields lacerating each of his buttocks.
Coupled with the bruising to his torso it would seem that this fine young
lad had been seriously mistreated by someone.

He then straightened up stretching luxuriously and pressing his soiled
underwear to his face audible inhale the fragrance held there within.
Placing them on the hook with his other clothes Jason then turned on the
shower and stepped into the cascading water. Facing the wall he allowed the
water to flow through his tousled hair, plastering it to his head and then
on downward enveloping his toned body in a liquid glossy sheen. Lifting a
bottle of shampoo from the shower tray he massaged the liquid into his hair
forming a foamy lather which streamed down his tapering back into the
devine cleft of his buttocks and onward circulating down each firm thigh
and then pooling round his feet.

Once he had satisfactorily soaped his hair he turned around and tilting
back his head, proceeded to rise the soap from his golden tresses. In this
position, with hands upon his back tilted head I could see to full
advantage the slim perfection of his firm torso. The smooth silky flesh
glistening with the soapy liquid coursing down it, the sublimaty of his
defined musculature, nicely shaped pecs with the merest hint of a
burgeoning six pack.

My eyes continued to traverse downwards, glorying in the smooth perfection
of this beautiful youth, marred only by the ugly bruising inflicted upon
his flat stomach. I finally allowed myself the voyeuristic pleasure of
gazing upon his large boyhood. As I have already described Jason's prick
was thick and long. This great size was extenuated by the fact that he had
shaved off all his pubic hair leaving his cock as smooth as a marble
column. By shaving his crotch it was obvious Jason wanted to show off his
large cock and low hanging balls, which were the size of hens eggs. Even in
the flaccid state to which his cock had now returned it was still a large
piece of meat. His slim frame served only to emphasise the size of this
beautiful cock.

Have you ever noticed how tall thin lads often have massive, thick
cocks. It could be one of the reasons I am attracted to that particular
sort of lad.

Having washed the shampoo from his hair Jason the proceeded to lather his
body with the shower gel hanging in the cubicle. The way in which he
caressed his body with this slippery substance was almost beyond the
erotic. He practically had me creaming my pants as I discretely watched him
through the part open door. He continued to caress every inch of his lithe
young body enveloping it in the fragrant slippery gel. On completion of
this tour he then proceeded to give particular attention to his tight young
butt hole ensuring that it too had been well scrubbed by inserting the
middle finger of his left hand up the resisting hole and oscillating it in
and out a few times. With the wash cloth he then proceeded to scrub at his
rapidly expanding cock until it was fully erect. Pulling back his loose
foreskin he commenced to apply the coarse washcloth to the sensitive
mushroom head of his cock until this violent stimulation started to make
his entire body buck and writhe in time to his less then gentle cock
cleansing. It reached the point where his violent movements caused the
caravan to star rocking, no mean feat considering its size. Suddenly he
dropped the wash cloth and shot a huge wad of thick boy cream into the palm
of his hand. This he then slowly licked off with obvious enjoyment whilst
continuing to wank his softening cock with the other hand. Once he had
finished this cream snack he gave himself one last rinse off and turned off
the shower.

Having been suitably cleansed Jason dried himself off with the threadbare
towel he had brought with him and proceeded to get dressed. First he sat on
the stool and put on the long white football socks pulling them up to his
knees and then sensuously pushing them down around his ankles. He then
reached into the pocket of his shorts and to my shock and great surprise
withdrew a blue jelly butt plug, which he proceeded to insert up his tight
back passage. Once this large monstrosity was in place he pulled on his tee
shirt and shorts leaving the black cartoon boxers hanging on the peg.

He then opened the shower cubicle door and stepping out closed it behind
him.

Even though he was dressed again in the same scruffy clothing the
perfection of his smooth good looks was now more apparent that the coating
of grime had been removed. His previously sweat slicked hair was now
tousled and hanging upon his shoulders. This gave him the appearance of a
puppy fresh from being bathed and looking equally adorable.

The expectant look Jason gave me as he sat down posed a number of
questions. Had I been watching his little show? Did I enjoy it? Was I going
to do anything about it? Additionally there was a haunted, wanting aspect
immersed deep within his baby blues. This more than anything else made me
pause to consider any action I would take with this boy.

Jason took my hesitancy as a rejection and haltingly asked me what fair I
was moving onto next. As he asked this the light within his eyes faded and
was replaced with a disappointed resigned emptiness.  At that point I made
a snap decision. If I followed this route Jason would shortly leave my
caravan and probably never approach me again. For some reason I felt that I
could not bare to suffer this loss. So ignoring his question I asked him if
he was hungry and did he want to stay and have a meal with me.

At that point one of the clocks in the debre started to chime the hour. As
though he had been electrocuted Jason jumped up from his seat say he had to
get back or Frank would be pissed of with him. You could hear a note of
fear in his voice as he spoke. He rapidly thanked me for the shower and
hoped I'd let him use it again and then he dashed out of the door.

After his sudden departure I was to say the least shell shocked. Had I read
something into his actions that wasn't there. Had he just treated the
shower as a private moment, why the butt plug and where had all the
bruising come from.

This tangle of questions was whirling around in my head and was not being
assisted by the quantity of claret I had drunk. So getting up I encouraged
the coffee percolator into life and spent the night in a sea of coffee
contemplating the scenario of Jason's visit.

The next morning I emerged from the disordered clutter of the caravan and
commenced to set up my stall, still in a contemplative mood from the
previous evening. That day was one of the busiest I have ever seen on any
fair anywhere. The punters were practically begging me to sell them
stuff. By mid morning I had virtually no stock left and so decided to go
for a walk and see how the other dealers were doing. I shoved the remaining
Items in the caravan and grabbing my stick went for a walk. You may think
that an antique dealer carrying a walking stick was something of an
affectation. In my case it isn't. After an incident some years ago I had
damaged my knee and now found I was unable to walk very far without some
additional support.

My good fortune that day had had been enjoyed by a large number of my
acquaintances around the fair and were all in a celebratory mood. I refused
numerous drinks as I went from stall to stall, something I am not noted
for. The events of the rest of that day may have turned out very
differently if I had been half cut, but for some reason lady luck was
sitting on my shoulder.

By the time I had got round most of the fair the crowds were beginning to
thin out with stall holders packing up and joe public off home with cars
full of junk. At the outskirts of the fairground sat forlornly behind a
small pile of unimpressive tat was Jason. Still dressed in the same clothes
he had worn the previous day he was practically pleading with a punter to
buy something from his stall. But to no avail. The man wandered off without
buying.

Trying to sound casual and off hand I said Hi to Jason who looked up and
gave me a weak little smile. I was shocked to see that he had acquired a
nasty cut on his left cheek. "It looks like you've been in the wars" I
tried to joke with him. He responded with a whispered "caught it on a
packing case in the dark last night". This did not ring true though. One
look could tell you that that cut was no accident. Not wanting to pry too
much in case he took offence I asked how business had been today. This
brought a very timid response. Jason had sold little and said that Frank
would be pissed off when he came back from the Pub. Thinking I would help
the kid out I offer to buy a number of his less tatty Items telling him I
needed to build up my stock. This brought a very hopeful response. So we
set to haggling over the price of a number of items. I must confess that
Jason was very skilled in the art of negotiation and ended up giving him
more for the stuff than I had intended even from a charity point of
view. As I had bought more than I wanted to carry I asked Jason if he would
bring the stuff over to my caravan later that evening. He agree to this far
more readily than customer relations required. So saying sionara I
continued to view the remaining stalls around the fair.

As there was little left worth buying on the stalls I went back to my
caravan and put a joint in the oven think that when Jason came over I would
offer him a meal again. This done I thought I would take a shower and at
least try and make myself a little more presentable. Having got undressed I
went into the shower cubicle and saw Jason's black boxers hanging where he
had left them. I had forgotten about him leaving them there and I
practically ripped them off the wall in my haste to inhale his boyish
fragrance. To say they were a little high was an understatement. They smelt
as if he had not changed them for a month. The intensity of his aroma
practically knocked me off my feet. There interior showed evidence of cum
stains front and somewhat surprisingly back as well. In addition to these
white stains was something far more sinister There was evidence of dried
blood stains on the seat. It was obvious that he had been wearing these
boxers when someone had thrashed him hard enough to make him bleed. I
remembered the marks I had seen on his arse the other evening but had
thought they did not look recent. Did this mean that he hadn't had a change
of clothes for some time. This evidence of the boys harsh treatment had
quite removed any thoughts I had original had about filling his shorts with
my cum. In fact the hard on which I had support on first seeing his shorts
had rapidly gone down. So I took my shower thinking that when Jason brought
the stuff over I would have to try and get him to open up to me.

When I had got dried and changed I put the TV on and waited for Jason to
show.  When the clock reached 11.00pm and he still had not put in an
appearance I had a very uneasy feeling and so I put on my overcoat and went
to look for him.

All was quite in the fairground as most of the dealers had packed up and
moved on. As I walked through the rubbish they had left behind towards
where Jason had had his stall I though I could hear raised voices. This was
interrupted by a muffled scream. I hurried on and could see that an old
lorry had been parked where the stall had been. A light could bee seen
around the wagons raised tailgate. On reaching the wagon I peered through
one of these gaps and could not believe what I saw.

Jason was suspended from the roof of the wagon, chained by the wrists and
wearing nothing but the tattered remnants of his clothes. Across his chest
was a large gash from which blood was running down his sides past the
remnants of his cut-offs and down smooth legs turning the white football
socks garish pink. The scream I had herd resulting from this horrific
treatment was muffled by that blue jelly butt plug which was now stuffed in
his mouth.

"How do you like that then you little fucking bastard. I tol you what would
happen the next time you fucking spoke to me. I don't even want you as my
cum dump anymore so happen we can find out how much you want to talk when
I've finished cutting you" With these words Jason's tormentor moved into
view. Six foot high six foot wide close cropped hair with a month of
stubble on his fat face this was Frank, dealer in this, that and anything
that was too hot for anyone else to handle. In one hairy hand he was
holding a cut throat razor and in the other a wicked looking pair of
pincers. He stepped up to Jason and opening the pincers he caressed the top
of Jason's leg squeezing them into the muscle. The muted howling Jason
emitted then was heart breaking and this made the fat bastard start to
laugh. When the jaws of the pincers had met through the poor boys flesh
Frank let go leaving them hanging in Jason's flesh. Already you could see
the blood well from the wound and spiral downwards dripping from his toes.

"You scream just like a little girl" said Frank "Howd you like to be one"?
Saying this he began to caress Jason's groin squeezing cock and pulling his
balls. "Lets get it hard so its easier to cut" growled Frank.

At this point I had to act. How could I let this act of cruel barbarity
continue. Firmly gripping my stick I began to bang upon the side of the
wagon shouting "Frank you swindling bastard where's my gear, fucking well
deliver"

End of chapter the first.

Is this worth continuing? Do you care what happens to Jason

Your comments would be welocom as this is my first attempt at writing
Cheers Joshuacaddy@lycos.co.uk