Date: Wed, 5 Jan 2011 16:27:29 +0000 (GMT)
From: Andy Caulden <andycaulden@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Boy Booker - Part 1 (M/b, oral)

All the usual disclaimers apply. The following story is
entirely fictional and contains explicit descriptions of
sexual activity between adult males and a young boy. READ
NO FURTHER if you are under the age of eighteen or offended
by such material.

Boy Booker - Part 1

By Andy Caulden

I was almost twelve years old when the following events
occurred in 1961. I was mad keen on westerns at the time,
and spent most of my pocket money on cinema tickets.
Fortunately, the day I met George, I didn't have enough
money to buy a ticket to see the latest John Wayne film.

I stood outside the Odeon cinema and cursed my luck for
being tuppence short. I knew I didn't have it in me to bunk
in, via the fire doors at the back, so I just stood there
and looked forlorn.

George stood and watched as I checked my pockets for the
non-existent money again; he then waited until I was about
to walk away before approaching me.

'Have you lost something, boy?' he said, in a concerned
voice. 'You'll miss the beginning of the film if you don't
cut along quick.'

'I don't have enough money, mister,' I replied. 'I'm
tuppence short.'

George, a well-dressed man in his late fifties, sighed and
put his hand in his trouser pocket.

'You don't want to miss seeing the Duke for the sake of a
couple of pennies,' he said, smiling. 'I'm always trying to
get rid of pennies and ha'pennies. It's a struggle to keep
my trousers up with a pocket full of copper.'

I laughed as the man pressed several coins into my hand.

'Come on,' he continued, 'we'll miss the beginning of the
film if we don't get our skates on.'

Because of the man's generosity, I felt obliged, after
buying my ticket, to follow him up the stairs and into the
circle.

'All seats are the same price for a weekday matinee,' said
the usher, as he took our tickets and showed us to the back
of the circle.

'Enjoy the film,' he said to me, before mumbling something
to George.

The circle was near empty, so no one was within earshot when
George took his jacket off and started talking.

'It gets quite hot in here,' he said, as he laid his jacket
across his lap. 'You'll be wise to take your jacket off as
well.'

I followed the man's advice and took off my windcheater.

'Why aren't you in school, boy?' he asked, as he helped me
place the windcheater across my lap.

'The school roof was hit by lightning, and the whole top
floor went up in flames,' I replied. 'Someone had nicked a
big chunk of the copper conductor. So I'm on holiday until
they can find another school to take my class.'

'An act of God,' said George, as he continued to fuss with
the windcheater. 'Now that was a bit of luck.'

When the lights went down, George still had his hand on the
windcheater - the section that spanned my groin. The back of
his hand stayed in constant contact with my shorts as it
moved back and forth over my cock. I tried to ignore the
feeling, but the hand wouldn't let me.

'Just relax, boy,' said George.

I sat frozen to the spot as the man and my cock conspired to
entertain me. The Duke was doing his thing on the big
screen, but I was more interested in what George was doing
to me in the semi-darkness of the cinema.

'Okay, boy,' said George. 'I need you to help me out a
little. Just put your hand under my jacket and take hold of
Gerald. He wants you to give him a little squeeze.'

'Gerald?' I queried.

'My cock,' he whispered. 'Gerald is the pet name I call my
cock; my dick; my dinkle.'

'Oh, right.'

Without giving it a second thought, I slid my hand under the
jacket and cast around for Gerald. I nearly jumped out of my
seat when my fingers found the unsheathed erection. It was
massive; it was hard; it was rampant.

'Give him a squeeze, boy,' said George.

I wrapped my hand round the hard-standing beast and
squeezed.

'That's it, boy. Make friends with Gerald.'

I sat in the semi-darkness and did my best to maintain a
firm grip on the man's cock - my bony fingers were nowhere
near as strong as they needed to be, but George and Gerald
didn't seem to mind.

'Now give him a little wank,' said George, as he squeezed my
cock through the coarse material of my shorts.

'Wank?' I queried.

George's free hand disappeared beneath the jacket to
encompass my hand. I was then schooled in the art of wanking
by a true enthusiast.

'Hands-on training is the only way to learn,' said George.
'Ask anyone.'

'Is my cock big enough to wank?' I asked.

'Let's see. Lose the shorts and give Gerald Junior an
outing.'

George released my hand and watched as I unbuckled my belt
and unbuttoned my shorts. I then rose up in my seat and
slipped both shorts and Y-fronts over my knees, letting them
fall to the floor, around my ankles.

'Now spread your knees and let Uncle George play with Junior
and the twins.'

I eagerly spread my knees as Junior twitched uncontrollably,
which made my balls (the twins) bounce around in their
hairless sac.

'Nice and stiff,' George continued, as he began wanking me
off with his finger and thumb. 'I like 'em nice and stiff,
and matchstick thin.'

The feeling in my belly was truly awesome: I couldn't
believe a finger and thumb was capable of giving me so much
pleasure. I felt obliged to reach out and take hold of
Gerald again, just to be polite, but my arms and legs
wouldn't budge - my whole body was enjoying the moment, big
time.

'It feels good, yes?' asked George.

'Yes-s-s-s, real good!' I replied.

'You stick with me, boy. I know how to keep that fire in
your belly burning for a long, long time. It'll feel good
when you do it yourself, but Uncle George knows all the ways
of getting the best out of Junior and the twins.'

My fingers gripped the arms of the seat as George stepped up
the stroke-rate. My knees were well apart, and the
windcheater was now on the floor, tangled up with my shorts
and Y-fronts. I was on cloud nine, and so failed to see the
usher lurking in the main aisle: crouching down and watching
the action in the reflective light of the silver screen.

'Your cock is rock hard, boy,' said George. 'Do you want me
to ease up and give it a little rest?'

'No way!' I snapped. 'I like it rock hard; it's good rock
hard.'

'Yes, it feels good, real good. But...'

'Ahh, fudging hell,' I spluttered, as I half stood up and
dry climaxed.

'That's it, boy,' George encouraged. 'Don't hold back. Let
it all out.'

I collapsed back into my seat, threw back my head and let
out a low whistle. I felt great, and wanted to do it all
over again. It was then that I saw, out the corner of my
eye, the usher stand up.

Panic replaced euphoria in an instant. I lurched forward and
put my hand on George's wrist.

'Let go, George,' I whispered. 'The usher's seen us doing
it. He's standing at the end of the row, and he's seen us.'

'Calm down, boy. Melvin's on our side; he likes to watch.'

The reflective light from the silver screen dropped away
dramatically when the Duke stopped to make camp for the
night. Melvin, who was standing some ten seats away on my
left, switched on his torch; George, who was sitting on my
right, told me to stand up and turn my back to the usher. I
did as I was told, too nervous to refuse.

'That's it, boy,' said George. 'Now pull up your shirt and
give Melvin something nice to look at.'

The usher's torch bathed my arse-cheeks in dull, yellow
light. I wanted so much to look over my shoulder, to make
sure Melvin was truly 'on our side', but George took hold of
my cock and distracted me, big time.

'Now let's kiss Junior all better, and get him nice and
stiff again,' said George, as he squeezed my ball-sac and
sucked my cock into his mouth.

My whole body shuddered with excitement: the man's tongue
quickly had Junior up and running again. I arched my back to
get more of my uncut cock into George's mouth. I wanted to
step forward, but, with the tangle of clothes around my
ankles, I couldn't risk falling arse-over-tit.

The torch's dull, yellow light continued to pick out my
arse-cheeks from the surrounding gloom. Melvin shone his
torch up and down my body several times, ensuring that he
could see my arse in the top or bottom half of the light
beam at all times.

I was loving every minute of my first sexual encounter, and
I really liked the idea of being watched by Melvin. In fact,
I pulled up my shirt as high as it would go, just to give
the usher a real eyeful of my eleven-year-old body - George
had certainly managed to bring out the little devil in me.

I tightened the grip I had on my shirt when George's tongue
teased the very end of my cock. It was then that my body
shuddered uncontrollably, triggering another dry climax.

Still reeling from the climax, I let out a whole series of
oohs and aahs. My knees were in real danger of giving way as
George continued to pleasure my knob with the tip of his
tongue. I so wanted to sit down and rest, but I didn't want
the man to stop licking my hard-standing cock. Eventually,
George decided to stop sucking my cock when my oohs and aahs
became a tad too loud for his liking.

'Keep the noise down, boy,' he scolded. 'It seems that you
need to stop up that gob of yours with something hot and
tasty.'

Collecting up his jacket and my windcheater, George placed
them on the seat to his right. He then spread his legs.

'Now get down on your knees, between mine, and suck me off.
I want you to lick Gerald into shape.'

I was happy to take the weight off my feet, and I was keen
to try out a little cock-sucking. Melvin had wandered off
for a few minutes: to check out the circle and see that all
was well. He was now back, and preparing to light up my
performance with his torch.

'Just lick the head, like you would an ice cream,' George
advised. 'I want you to take it nice and slow.'

Melvin's torch found me kissing Gerald's bulbous cock-head,
just seconds before my tongue went to work on its shiny,
smooth surface. Gerald tasted salty, and smelt a little
musky, but the cock's length and girth were the things I
remember most from that first up close and personal
encounter.

Watching westerns and other films had now been relegated to
second place on my list of favourite pastimes. I was now mad
keen on playing with cock, especially man-size cock. That
first tentative touch of George's stem had flipped a switch
in my head, a switch that had turned me on to sex in a big
way.

'Nice and slow,' George repeated. 'Uncle George likes it
nice and slow.'

The uncut cock twitched when the tip of my tongue glided
over the base of the exposed cock-head. George sighed when
my tongue went back to make Gerald twitch again.

'That's a good boy,' said George. 'You're going to be really
good at this sort of thing; and that's coming from someone
who knows what he's talking about.'

Some five minutes later my head was bobbing up and down on
George's cock in a slow, rhythmic way. Melvin was still
eagerly watching the novice at work, but now he was sitting
in the first seat of our row.

'You can stop now, boy,' said George. 'I don't want you
choking on my spunk.'

I stopped sucking Gerald and looked up.

'What's spunk?' I asked.

It was then that a jet of semen erupted from George's cock-
head and hit me under the chin.

'That's spunk, boy,' George replied, laughing.

Another jet of semen followed the first, hitting me on the
right cheek as I handed Gerald back to George. In exchange,
I was given a handkerchief to get cleaned up.

'You can swallow the spunk next time; now that you know what
to expect,' said George. 'Swallowing spunk will put hairs on
your chest and make your cock bigger. It's a known fact.'

'Get away. That can't be true.'

'Ah, but it is,' George joked. 'But don't you go telling
folk. What we just did is considered abnormal and wicked by
people like your mother and father, so you must keep it a
secret. We could both be locked up for lewd behaviour. Cock
play between men and boys is against the law, even though
it's good fun.'

'It sure is,' I said, smiling.

'So, if you promise to keep it a secret,' said George, 'I'll
introduce you to some of my friends. They all like playing
with boy cock.'

'I promise. I promise. I promise.'

'Well, that's settled then. Now, what's your name; and how
old are you?'

'Roy Booker. But my friends call me "Boy"; and I'll be
twelve years old next month.'

'Excellent,' said George. 'But you must promise to let me
see you in your birthday suit before then.'

I laughed as I pulled up my shorts and Y-fronts and sat down
in my seat.

- - -

Copyright (c) Andy Caulden, January 2011

All comments welcome (andycaulden@yahoo.co.uk)