Date: Sun, 7 Nov 2004 06:45:36 EST
From: Janek92003@aol.com
Subject: Boy corrupted, Parts 2 and 3

Part 2

"The garden is a disgrace, dear."
Only my good lady wife (whom I always referred to mentally as "The
Dragon") could make the word "dear" sound like an insult.
"I know, darling" - I put an equal amount of venom into that endearment -
"but I really am so busy these days, what with...."
I let the words trail off.
"So, we need to get a gardener."
"Yes, dear. Splendid idea. Nobody too expensive, though."
"Well, what about one of your boys?"
The way she said "your boys" made it sound as if I had a harem of
catamites. Secretly, I was flattered.
"I doubt if we could find a boy with the talent to take our garden in
hand, dear," I said.
"All he needs is good muscles, a good back and an appetite for hard
work."
She was right, of course.
"Listen, Douglas," she continued, "I met one of your boys in town the
other day, a very big-boned strapping lad, and I mentioned it to him. He
seemed quite keen."
"Well, dear, if you think he would be suitable."
"You can judge for yourself. He will be here in about five minutes."
Five minutes later, Hislop walked up the path to our front door.
Oh fuck, I thought. A mixture of elation and panic threw me into a tizz.
Fortunately, my "lady wife" took charge of the situation. Poor Hislop
tried to avoid my gaze. I couldn't blame him.
"So, that's agreed, then," said the Dragon, "Ian will come every Saturday
morning, and we shall pay him...."
I wasn't really listening. I had already registered that fact that the
Dragon had some Women's Institute thing every Saturday morning. Hislop
and I would be alone together. Is Fate kind or what? I tried to keep the
grin off my face. I caught Hislop's gaze. There was a glint in his eye
that disconcerted me.
"Excellent, Hislop. I am sure you will be a treasure."
"Oh do call him by his first name, dear. I hate how you masters always
refer to boys by their surnames. It's so brutal."
Hislop looked at me.
"It's all right, sir, I don't mind."
"Very well..............., erm, Ian, see you Saturday."
That glint in his eye. Was his cock stirring as mine was at the prospect
that he and I would have the whole of Saturday morning to ourselves,
thanks to my silly wife? For once I was grateful to the Dragon.
God, how I loved boys!
It's a strange thing, this obsession with boys. God made a perfectly good
system - a man's rodlike penis to fit into a woman's sheath-like vagina -
and yet he made boys so very very attractive that any red-blooded male
will (or should) get a hard-on at the sight of a naked boy. Firm flesh,
delicious plump buttocks, suckable pecs and, above all, that amazing
thing between his legs. There is something special about a young boy's
penis. It is clean and sweet and fresh-tasting and easily aroused and
untiring. Oh god, how many adjectives does it take to explain why I love
boys' penises? My mouth waters, my heart beats faster, my pulse races: I
CRAVE boycock! And yet, the sad reality was that I had very little real
life experience of the
boytouching-boyfondling-boystroking-boysucking-boyfucking fantasies that
fed my dreams and my regular jackoffs.
And now, here was dear Hislop - sorry, Ian - on a plate, so to speak.
That glint in his eye spoke volumes. He wanted it as much as I did, bless
him. Whatever the "it" was. We shall see, I thought, giving my hard cock
inside my trousers a reassuring pat.
Saturday seemed an age away. Every night, I was haunted by images of my
darling boy, and narratives of how it would be when he and I were finally
alone together. I wondered idly if I had wanked myself to a standstill.
What if Saturday came and I couldn't even get it up? My poor overworked
cock. But there is truth in the saying; the more you use it, the better
it gets. Well, that was my version; more reassuring than "use it or lose
it", which sounds so negative. Not that there was any chance of my losing
it!
Hislop turned up as agreed at ten on Saturday morning. Do boys know how
sexually attractive they are in tight jeans and teeshirt? Are they aware
of the effect they have on a man's groin as he contemplates the firm
outlines of their bodies under that combination? Bulge of crotch totally
visible, hard pecs and nipples etched against the flimsy material -
forget about Page Three Girls, this was raw sexuality of a kind that
would stir any man's cock.
"Morning, sir."
"Good morning, Hislop, erm, Ian."
"Is Mrs Hamilton home?"
"No, she's left me in charge, so to speak."
I tried a laugh, but it wasn't convincing.
"Oh, OK, sir. What do you want me to do?"
What I wanted him to do was to strip off naked and let me suck his lovely
penis into my mouth, but that wasn't an option. Was it?
"Listen, Ian,  I'm sorry about the other day. I was really too hard on
you."
"That's all right, sir. In fact, I thought it was great."
"What was great?"
"The way you held me here" - gesturing to his groin - "and showed me how
to, you know, wank."
For once in my life, I was lost for words.
"Sir, can I tell you something."
I nodded.
"I am not interested in girls."
I felt my cock stirring to attention. Emboldened by my silence, he
continued.
"I loved seeing your cock, sir. It really got me going."
A sudden thought entered my mind.
"Have you, erm, any other experience with men?"
He hesitated.
"My uncle, sir. He did stuff with me once. Well, he's not my real uncle.
Just a friend of the family."
"What exactly did he do?"
My cock was straining against my clothing now, fit to burst its bonds.
"You know, showing me his cock, letting me hold it, stuff like that."
"That's terrible!"
"No, I didn't mind at all. In fact, I really liked it."
Pause.
"Sorry, I guess that makes me a very bad person."
"Not at all, dear boy. So, no interest in girls, eh?"
"No. They're silly, and they smell."
My sentiments exactly.
"You know, Ian, talking like this makes me very, erm, aroused."
"Me too, sir."
I led him into the house. My darling boy was ripe for what I had in mind.
Fuck the garden, and fuck the Dragon: we had better things to do.

Part Three

Boys can be terrible teases. My reputation as "Dirty Duggie" and my
propensity for ogling naked boys in the showers made me an easy target.
One boy in particular, a dark-haired fifteen-year old called Peter
Biillingsley liked to flirt with me. I mean FLIRT, coquettishly, like a
girl. With his sensual cupids bow lips and his long dark eyelashes, he
was devastatingly pretty. But there was something wickedly slutty about
him too. A typical Billingsley enounter:.
"Sir, why can't we have one of the boys pose in the nude for us?"
Eyelashes flutter.
"Headmaster wouldn't approve."
"I would love to pose nude for you, sir." Wicked glint in the eye.
"Don't talk nonsense, Billingsley."
"I know I am not beautiful like Michelangelo's David." Pout.
"Yes, well, the David is unique, perhaps the most famous nude boy in the
world."
"Somebody told me he was out of proportion." Pause, waiting for me to
take the bait.
"In what way?"
"They say his penis isn't big enough in relation to the rest of his
body." Mischievous grin. I take the bait.
"Rubbish! Anyway, what do you think, Billingsley?"
"I think David's penis is beautiful, but I would like it more if it was
bigger." Getting the hook deeper into me.
"Oh why?"
"I just love big cocks, sir. Don't you, sir?"  Eyelashes flutter again.
Game, set and match to Billingsley.
As you can imagine, Peter Billingsley has been a constant masturbatory
fantasy. I often wonder if he was really gay, or just enjoyed teasing
poor Dirty  Duggie. I just hoped that he was, because the thought of him
defiling his penis in the smelly slack cunt of some trashy slut of a girl
made me nauseous.

But at least my darling Ian was no tease. He clung to my arm as we walked
into the house. I could sense his intensity: he wanted this as much as I
did. I wondered if his boycock was already getting hard. I brushed the
back of my hand against the front of his jeans. He flinched but didn't
draw back. No doubt about it! The growing bulge gave him away, a
tumescent boycock ripe for pleasure.
I calculated that we had a good three hours of lovemaking before the
Dragon returned. We settled down on the sofa and I turned to my sweet
catamite.
"Ian, show me what your uncle did."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, let's start by doing whatever you and he did together."
"Oh."
"Well?"
"First thing he did was make me hold his cock, sir."
"Mmmm! Nice! Well?"
Awkwardly, the boy leant over and unzipped me. What a heavenly moment! I
knew that, now that the ice was broken, we were in for a real steamy sex
session. Sensing that he wasn't sure how to extricate my already
burgeoning cock, I took charge.
"Here, let me help you, dear boy."
With practised ease - how many zillion times had I take my cock out as a
prelude to a wank or a blowjob?! - I flicked my cock out, grinning with
satisfaction as it bounced to attention. A whistle of admiration escaped
from my boy's lips.
"You like it, Ian?"
"God yessssssssssss," he breathed.
"It's yours, dear boy, to do with as you please."
He looked nonoplussed.
"Surely you know what to do with a man's cock, Ian. What did your uncle
make you do?"
"He made me toss him off, sir."
Oh my goodness, the expressions these boys have for man's greatest
pleasure: wanking, jerking off, jacking off, and now the delicious phrase
tossing off.
"Do you want to toss me off?"
"I think so."
"Did you like holding your uncle's cock?"
"Oh yes."
"You boys! It's every boy's dream to hold a man's cock, isn't it?"
He nodded, looking up at me shyly before wrapping his young slim fingers
round the shaft of my cock. Being of Scottish origins, my pubes had a
reddish tinge which seemed to fascinate him.
"Wish I had hair like that."
"Oh? Don't you have any hair down there yet, Ian?"
"Some."
"Show me. Then you can wank me some more, dear boy."
Bless him, my innocent stood up, shucked of his jeans and his underpants
and then turned to face me. His cock was inches from my face. I took my
time to examine its beauty while I slowly masturbated.
"Stand there, darling. Let me look at you. Oh my! How beautiful! And how
big!"
His penis was as white as alabaster with a tracery of bluish veins that
my tongue longed to explore. He has uncut, but his foreskin was well
back, forming a kind of ruff round the ridge of his helmet. So pretty. So
EATABLE. But then, men know that every boy's cock is desirable! And, at
the base, a delicate fuzz of dark pubic hairs, the sort that tickle your
nose when you go down on it.
"Not big like yours, though."
"Silly boy. You will be one day. How quickly it stands up!"
He was fully hard by now, excited by my attention to his prize
possession. I stopped masturbating and slid my hands round him, gripping
his buttocks and pulling him towards me.
"Did your uncle see your cock, Ian?"
"Yes, sir."
"What did he do then?"
"Nothing sir. Somebody came in and we had to stop."
"Do you know what a blowjob is, Ian?"
"I think so, sir. It's like when someone sucks your penis into his
mouth."
The precum was oozing from me now in a steady tingling flow. I was high.
"Feed your penis into my mouth, dear boy. That is, if you want to."
Without prompting, he took hold of his cock and fed it between my lips.
I sighed inwardly. It had been so long since I had had a boy's penis in
my mouth. There is no better taste than that of a fresh young penis on
your tongue, no headier scent than the body odour of a boy in heat, no
finer sound than the hungry slurp of  a wet mouth servicing a youngster's
hard on. I rolled back his foreskin with my lips and played my tongue
behind the ridge and below the helmet of his fine young prick. He was
moaning with pleasure, which only served to make me more aroused too. My
hands were on his plump young buns, my fingertips teasing his sweet
pucker. We were in perfect harmony now, man and boy together. This is
what sex and love are all about.
"Don't stop, sir. It's wonderful! I feel....."
Words failed him as they so often fail us when we try to describe the
mystery and magic of our sexual arousal. I worked my mouth back and forth
over the shaft of his penis. I had long ago learned the "swallowing"
technique that enabled me to take a boy's penis past my soft palate and
into my throat without gagging. I sucked him lovingly but slowly to
prolong his pleasure (and mine). I was delighted too to feel the tickle
of his pubes on my nose. Soon I became aware of the delicious spermatic
taste of his precum. My boy was leaking precum, just as I was. Copiously,
Wonderful!! I knew at that moment how desperate I was for him to climax
in my mouth. I attacked his cock with renewed vigour, waiting for that
moment when he would hold still, stiffen and judder. The moment came
quickly enough.
"Oh god, I'm going to spunk up!"
He tried to pull back but I held him tight pulling him harder than ever
against me. He was down my throat now, my nose was pressed into his
pretty boyfuzz and my whole being was focussed on taking all his boycum
into me. I was dimly aware that my aching cock was stabbing the air as I
sucked his boyseed down my throat. My turn would come soon enough.
Ian collapsed against me, shipwrecked. I think I had drained every drop
of seminal fluid from the poor boy, emptied him and filled myself. I
caught him in my arms and cradled him the way you might try to soothe an
infant. His body pressed against my throbbing cock. It was a moment of
pure bliss.
"Happy, Ian dear?"
He nodded and snuggled into me.
"What about you, sir? You haven't spunked up."
"All in good time, dear boy."
He reached down and grasped my cock again. Like all boys, he loved the
feel of a man's hard cock gripped in his eager fist. I wondered if he was
going to take the initiative. As it turned out, Fate snatched the
initiative from us in a most unexpected way.

[to be continued. Comments to janek92003@aol.com]