Date: Thu, 3 Aug 2006 05:46:52 EDT
From: Chetnadelphi22@aol.com
Subject: Brief Encounter - Part II

This is a work of fiction and the usual disclaimers apply. If you shouldn't
be here go somewhere else.

If you wish to make comments contact me on: chetnadelphi22@aol.com
I would enjoy your comments and happily quench all flames.

This is the first time this story has been published. I retain the copyright.


Brief Encounter Part II

By

TheIndigoIndian


The close of Part I...

I don't remember pulling out of him for I think we both fell asleep with me
deep inside him. I do remember the two of us pulling up our shorts as the
first light seeped into the compartment from the gathering dawn. I remember
too the way he turned his body around, toes to toes, cock to cock and
kissed me long and hard on the lips before whispering, `Just wait until
tonight, I have something special as a surprise'.

I could hardly wait!

Part II

The Bangalore Express plodded from the darkness into the awakening
landscape of central India. The day outside was bright but not yet
hot. Inside, the air conditioning kept us comfortable.  My compartment
companions and I made small talk over the breakfast of curry puffs and
masala tea served by the train staff.  Deepak, the boy with whom I had
shared a bed and a night of pleasure, joined in from time to time. His
Aunty, Leela, whose name I was invited to use, made the most of complaining
about the double booking, which had led to me sharing my berth with the
delectable adolescent. I looked forward to him joining me again in my bunk.

By 10am I had made two trips to the toilets to release the pressure on my
balls from an overload of boy-presence. When I returned from my second
release, Aunty, still full of gratitude from my offer without which, she
and the boy would have had to wait a few days to travel, made an invitation
of her own; `Deepak and I would like you to stay with us in Bangalore. We
have a bungalow not too far from the centre. You will have easy access to
your business connections'.

How could I resist such an offer without seeming churlish' It could curtail
my nocturnal activities in Central Park but, on the other hand, it would
give me the chance of another night of pleasure with this boy and with
space to experiment denied to us in the confines of the sleeping berth. `I
would be delighted to accept', I said, smiling, my words as formal and
stilted as her own had been moments earlier. I was also desperate to find
out the `surprise' waiting for me tonight.

In the afternoon, Deepak and I headed off to the toilets (I was escorting
him at Aunty's request) for a `shower' which was basically a body wash in
the confines of the toilet. We had time for me to give him a quick - and I
mean quick - blowjob. He was dammed quick to shoot his load, this boy;
spurting all over my tongue and into my throat with just a few strokes of
my lips around his glistening organ. I think it was my tongue penetrating
into the depths of his ample foreskin which did the trick. His cock,
though, was truly magnificent to behold, to hold and to taste and his
nectar retained that sweetness; as of the morning dew.

I hoped the opportunity would present itself to teach him a technique or
two on how to delay his orgasm and to achieve the maximum sensations.

After his seed had graced my throat, I grabbed the chance to ask him about
the `surprise' but he only smiled, secretively, and changed the subject. It
was no problem so I smiled a grimace in return. I am a patient man and
could wait. I just hoped my gonads could do the same.

Throughout the day, we talked about our lives. Aunty was extremely
sympathetic when she found out that I had been married but had lost my wife
nine years before to Malaria. `Why have you never re-married?' She asked,
intrigue in her words. Indian women want Indian men forever to be under the
control of females. An uncontrolled male is potentially a loose cannon full
of danger to the fairer sex. If she only knew that her nephew was the
fairest sex of all in my eyes she would have had a fit.

My practised response of, `How do I replace perfection?' Stopped any
further questions and I saw the light of matchmaking die in her eyes to be
replaced by satisfaction at my answer. Herself a widow who had loved her
husband dearly, she understood perfectly.

As the day wore on she spoke more of the boy and how he and his parents had
been involved in a terrible car accident. They had died leaving the boy
injured and orphaned, to be looked after by his nearest maternal relative;
the Aunty. She declared herself to be privileged to be able to care for
such a sweet and innocent boy. `He seems to have avoided all the vices of
adolescence and I have had not a single complaint from any girl's parents',
she told me. I managed to keep my face straight and remained non-committal,
aware of the boy's presence.

Deepak himself gazed out of our carriage window during this time, his face
a mask of mystery, hiding within himself from this unwanted and unwarranted
intrusion into his history; his personality: in front of a carriage full of
strangers, too.

At one station, with the train stopped and restocking with water and other
consumables, the train-master entered our carriage and told Aunty that a
berth had now become available in the other first-class carriage as that
passenger was sick and had been taken to hospital and would she like the
boy to sleep there tonight. He, with a single shake of his head
simultaneously managed to convey his fear of dormant disease; at sleeping
alone in a distant berth and his desire to stay `close to Aunty'. It was a
masterful piece of play-acting. With a wilting heart, I felt obliged to
offer to move my chattels to the newly available berth allowing Deepak to
have my own but he shook his head again and declared that, `I couldn't put
you out after your kindness to me. You might get the same sickness, and of
course, Aunty and I do enjoy your company. She nodded and muttered an
agreement.  I then added my own statement of, `He's welcome to stay here
and share with me again if that is what you both prefer' The vigorous
nodding from Deepak gave no concession to the train-master, and neither did
Aunty.

`Thank you, Trainmaster, but my nephew prefers to stay with me and as Mr
Patel is kind enough to share his bunk, we will leave things as they
are'. The Trainmaster was obviously delighted; more pennies for him, no
doubt.

Finally, the interminable day wore into the interminable evening and the
interminable evening became night and it was time once again to prepare for
bed.

In our shared toilet as we changed again into our nightclothes, Deepak
revealed his surprise.

`When my parents were killed in the car crash, the one good thing to come
out of it was that I was injured. Something hit my face or my face hit
something; I dunno, and I lost all of my front teeth top and
bottom'. Saying this, he put his hand into his mouth and removed a double
set of dentures, smiling at me as he did so.

He looked disarmed and charming; like a seven-year old whose milk teeth
have finally given way to leave a gummy smile. It enhanced his look of
innocence and took away his years leaving him looking like the beautiful
child he must surely have been. The sexual implications of this suddenly
sprang into my mind and my cock sang a doodle-dandy in anticipation,
shifting in my newly donned shorts. His free hand reached across and
caressed me there, unzipping me and releasing me into the open. He squatted
then, directly in front of me and my hardening knob was suddenly enveloped
in the hot wetness of his mouth, untroubled by sharp tooth edges. As he
slid me back and forth, the sensations of his smooth gums on the ridges of
my tool were incredible. He made me into a young boy again; so much so that
I nearly came in just three or four plunges.

He sensed my impending embarrassment, pulled his face away and said, `Come
in my mouth, I'd like that'. The thought of my seed flooding this perfect
specimen of boyhood heightened my sensations even further as he replaced me
in his mouth, his tongue curling around the head of my cock in swirling
motions.

`I can't hold on for long', I whispered, the tightening of my balls telling
me that my hot seed would soon be set free to leap and prance. He nodded
his answer to me, even as my penis sank deep into his hot, wet
mouth. Someone outside the toilet obviously couldn't hold on for long also
as he (or she) banged on the door. It didn't disturb us and it was too late
in any case. The building up to release had started.

Some unidentifiable point inside me was setting all my nerve ends a
jangling.

My short countdown to ejaculation had begun.

My balls were boiling.

I was cumming.

Jetting.

Flooding this delicious boy. My hot fluid searing and rasping me as it
spurted into his gulping throat. So much for the idea of me teaching him
delaying techniques!

He stopped the plunging action and just held me, deep. His tongue worked
miracles of pleasure on every nerve ending I possessed there; his toothless
gums lightly pressing and squeezing out every last drop of my semen.

At last I pulled him from me, the sensations now unbearable for a while,
pulled him up into my waiting arms and kissed him full on the lips, tasting
myself and the sweetness of him.

My hands reached down to grasp his taut buns and to pull him against
me. His cock was throbbing and pulsing against me. It had a life of its
own; desperate to find its own release. I wanted to see this boy spill his
seed. I wanted to taste him, yes! I also wanted to teach him control and
the joy of nearly cumming several times before allowing the spilling of
seed. But firstly, mostly, I wanted to see his spunk spurt forth in strings
and gobbets.

My hand reached in and grabbed his energized six inches. The heat was
amazing, I pulled him free of his shorts and eased back the skin until the
head of his cock was free and clear. I then started to stroke him smoothly
and carefully until I heard his breath increasing in speed, shortening. His
cock was proud at a 60 degree angle, the head glistening and fully
engorged, leaking pre-cum and I required no clairvoyant skills to know that
his essence would leap high into the air before falling to the ground.

I turned him slightly away from me to view the action and, even as I did
so, he shot hard, his viscous semen jetting three or four ropes high into
the air, the first and second rising to the same level as his beautiful
eyes, before it plunged down, lost and wasted. the remainder spilled out
over my eager fingers, to be claimed a little later by my hungry mouth.

He slumped against me, knees trembling and his eyelids closed and
fluttering as his cock pulsed weakly in my hand in its final spasms. And I
still had the night in our berth to look forward to and at least one night
in his home. Perhaps my business in Bangalore would require an extension of
time!

Suddenly I loved this cranky, dilapidated train.

With our passions so recently spent in the toilet, our first hour within
our private, curtained bunk was spent lying mostly naked, with our shorts
and underwear warming our ankles and simply holding one another with some
tender, soft kissing to revitalise the extremities. My hands were free to
roam his body, sliding into and over his soft contours, my mind imagining
the shadows and hollows of his loins in the dark. He was hard again long
before I managed it: oh the vigour of youth!

The skin of his back and belly and loins was so soft beneath my fingers; as
though covered in a layer of dust, it so lightened my touch and so smoothed
my actions. He responded with little intakes of breath each time my fingers
found some new G-spot to raise his excitement but my hands avoided his boy
parts, only occasionally sliding across them in titillation. At one point,
my fingers had his body twitching violently as they caressed the soft,
tender skin of his underarm; a few soft silken hairs nestling there.

His body was almost feminine, retaining still the androgynous properties of
boyhood and in its soft, rich curves although I knew that the projecting
maleness of him would always deny such a charge to any investigator. His
lips were soft velvet against mine and he seemed to be a practised kisser
with an active tongue, which from time to time retreated to become passive
by turns.

My own lips brushed across his eyes and brows. They travelled the distance
from the bridge of his nose across one closed eyelid, feeling the gently
shifting orb beneath, to his ear lobe and that is how I found another
G-spot: sucking on the lobe had him trembling in anticipation of more and
when I tongued the opening to his ear, he released a small whimper.

In the carriage his whimper was echoed by a sudden snore as his Aunty
shifted on her berth and someone smacked their lips in a dream.

My tongue and lips left a snail-trail down the nape of his neck and across
his chest to his left nipple. His hand, which had been awkwardly reaching
to caress my cock, suddenly shot to his mouth to stifle a yell. `Another
one hit the spot', to paraphrase an old pop song.

There was that magnificence to his form, which I have always found so
delightful in mid-teen boys. The hardness, the angularity of the adult body
is not yet apparent and yet the torso is full-sized but with an edible
softness that demands caresses from tongue and lips. The other beauty of
that age is that the erect penis, already fully developed, looks outsized
on the adolescent body, demanding attention as it sways and flops about.

I fell to its demands, sliding my tongue still further down his torso to
swathe the gentle slopes of his navel before briefly licking the peeking
head of his cock in an action designed to tease rather than to appease. His
taste was delightful. Even after so many hours on board this lumbering
beast, he emitted only the lightest scent of sweat; not at all unpleasant,
tinged with all the myriad flavours of boy.

His penis gave off odours of previous cummings even as his pheromones
released to assail my nostrils. Semen; cum; jism, jizz, whatever word you
like, he smelled of it and my senses basked in it; the heady brew bringing
fresh delights with each waft.  I could deny his twitching, dripping cock
no longer (not to mention my own need to wrap my lips around his maleness
and say, `Honolulu', fifty times) and lifted my chin so that my wetly
slicked and opening lips could gather him in before sliding down his full
length, drawing a gasp from deep within him. As before, my tongue sampled
his slippery wetness; drawing his pre-cum forth from its hiding place
within his gathered and puckered entrance, even as my sliding lips moved
all the way down him,

My teasing must have been beyond bearing for I only managed that single
slide before he was jetting into me as forcefully as he had before; no
diminishment in the quantity of his seed or in the power of his projecting.
I could feel his knees trembling against my solar plexus as his body pumped
and pumped and pumped again, making my holding mouth and throat awash with
his sweet emission. I continued to hold him there, trapped, his backside
against the carriage wall and his softening penis wet and slippery within
me. It was a beautiful sensation to leave this boy's mannish cock inside my
mouth. It never shrivelled, as many do in post-coital repose, but rather
slumped, semi-erect, solid, disposed to hardening again as my tongue gently
brushed and cleaned him.

I sensed his body slump too as sleep began to claim him and knew that I had
enjoyed all the release available to me today. It would give my body the
chance to rebuild and renew my stock of juices. Shifting slowly up and
releasing his penis reluctantly, I lifted my face to his and gave him a
goodnight kiss, my hand capturing and holding that part of him my mouth had
surrendered.

That was how we both fell asleep, drained, and that was how we
simultaneously woke in the early dawn light with the sounds of others
awakening and the noises of the train staff preparing for their daily
grind. We were shifting, then, to pull up underwear and shorts and thus to
regain the respectability our lives required of us. I gave his morning
erection a gentle squeeze, his lips a gentle kiss and gave myself the
reward of looking forward to another night to be spent in his company, but
at his home, with the space to try so many other things, to teach him, and
to have him enjoy. I wondered if he had ever known a tongue gently teasing
his perineum and anus. We would have to make this the subject of further
research.

My cock trembled at the thought.