Date: Mon, 7 May 2007 18:32:30 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jeff Spencer <jeffspencer69@yahoo.com>
Subject: Clash of Cultures, Part 10 (M/b, mast, oral, anal)

Clash of Cultures, Part 10 (M/b, masturbation, oral, anal)

This story involves descriptions of a sexual encounter between a man and a
pre-teen boy. Be warned, and do not read if reading this type of story is
illegal for you. It IS fiction. If you'd like to see more stories like it,
drop me a line at JeffSpencer69@yahoo.com. The story is Copyright Jeff
Spencer, 2007.

Please contribute some money to Nifty if you enjoy this and other works
posted there. You can also find many the following VERY HOT stories by
`Jeff Spencer' listed under `Prolific Internet Authors' at Nifty:

    * All Cats are Grey
    * Blue Eyed Accident
    * Boy Beach
    * Chris and Terry's Neighborly Adventure
    * Clash of Cultures
    * Dream
    * Jeff Comes Out
    * Jiffee Lube
    * Justin's Story
    * Lick It or Ticket
    * Locker Room Lovers
    * Loving Ryan and Chris
    * Me and Bobby McKee
    * Meeting Timmy
    * Pleasure Island
    * Queer Factor
    * Tony and Me
    * Weekend at B.A.'s
    * Writer's Block
    * You and I at the Arcade
    * Your Dream
    * Pool Boy
    * Soccer Summer

Author's Note - I strongly encourage you to read this story FROM THE
BEGINNING!!

==================================

My life had become a strange whirlwind. By day, I was filming a series of
commercials featuring a cast of nine cute, British boys, each one of them a
darling boy between ages 10 and 14, and all similarly sized, around 110
pounds or so, and none taller than 5' 4". By night, I was fucking each of
them, one by one, in my dreams. Dreams far beyond the typical `wet dream'.

Erotic dreams aren't so strange, though. What WAS strange was that the
dreams were shared with the boys - that is, we each remembered our
experiences in MY dreams, and the boys seemed to enjoy them immensely, as
did I. And it was all due to the efforts of the mysterious Stanley
Perkins. I've told you about him in earlier episodes - there was clearly
something mystical about him.

The next day, after my dream in which I rescued Ian from hypothermia in the
Pacific Northwest woods, sometime in the latter part of World War II, I
drove to work on the `shoot'. The reason we were all gathered together, was
the episodic series of video game cartridge commercials in which I played
the bumbling master of a Dickensian workhouse cum orphanage. The British
boys played the orphans, although they would be augmented by the miracle of
computer graphics later to appear as a cast of dozens.

The filming was being done in an old, abandoned manufacturing building in
Birmingham, Alabama. I think it had been a civil war-era mill of some
kind. It certainly looked like what I imagine a Dickens-era workhouse might
look like. As I expected, Ian appeared somewhat shy on seeing me, and he
sported an obvious boner when I saw him. I guess the black haired, blue
eyed twelve year old, a really CUTE twelve year old, wasn't as good as an
adult at hiding his feelings.  Though, I confess I pretty much always
sported a woody around these kids myself.

I noticed the other boys kidding him about it, and it was interesting to
see a blond boy, Ethan, looking at Ian a great deal longer than one would
expect from a casual once over. I also recalled that, in my first dream,
when the boys were involved in an orgy, Ian had made it very clear that
Ethan was his boyfriend. Perhaps there really was a close connection
between these dreams, and the boys' future reality. I hoped so, anyway.

The boys were having some fun with me between takes, as I'd been given
dialogue in the current commercial that was extremely tongue twisting. Now,
I've never been trained as an actor - if you'll recall, until recently, my
`day time job' had involved playing baseball professionally. So I wasn't
aware of all the tricks real actors use to master difficult
dialogue. Still, I managed my way through the day, though to the complete
and utter merriment of the boys, and at the end of the day I found myself
walking back to the `Talent Trailer', the self-contained RV that was used
to give cast members a place to hang out between takes, to freshen up, grab
a snack and just relax.  The other cast and crew members had already
departed for the hotel.

Now, before you get the impression that the clients were throwing money at
their cast members, let me assure that such was not the case. The RV was a
2001 Fleetwood Expedition, no more than about 40 feet long and used. Let me
emphasize that `used' part. The paint was faded, and it looked as though it
had been `rode hard and put down wet', as one of my dream characters might
have said. Still, it was clean and comfortable, if spartan, with basically
a small living room and galley kitchen with refrigerator and microwave (no
range or oven), and a small, clean bathroom.  That's it, and two couches in
the living room being the only `real' furniture.

The boys had already been driven away in their vans, so I was surprised to
see Ian standing inside the RV, by one of the sofas, looking anxious,
shifting from foot to foot. "You look like you have to pee," I said,
jokingly. Before he could say anything, I added, "Why did you stay behind?
It was just chance that I came here to grab a can of Coke before heading to
my car. You might have been alone here all night."

"You come here every night before you leave, to get a soda." I guess he was
far more observant than I. Ian paused. Then, "You were with me, in my dream
last night, weren't you?" he continued in a low voice. "You were with me
last night, and I know it was real. I've never felt anything more real than
that dream." His eyes looked almost haunted.

I sighed. "Yes, in some sense it was real. You and I shared a dream last
night. I'm not sure why, exactly, but it's been happening to the other
boys, too."

"I know," he said. "It was wonderful. I didn't want it to stop. Have you
ever had a dream you didn't want to stop?" I nodded.

"Yes. The last week has been like that," I said. "But, what can I do for
you? It looks like you missed your ride."

"Jeff, um, I think I love you," he said, to my shock. "I loved you saving
my life, and holding me, loving me....I've never felt anything so wonderful
in my entire life. In an orphanage, we don't get a lot of that."

"You mean, you really DO live in an orphanage?" I asked, surprised.

Ian laughed, his long black locks shaking as he moved. "Yes, although
fortunately it's not like the one you run in the commercials!" He
giggled. "The nuns who run it are very nice, but it's not the same as
having a family....did you know that all of us are from orphanages? Not the
same ones, of course, but we're all parentless, Jeff." He fell silent.

I was stunned to hear that, but it explained a little why the boys might be
more at risk of having their lives turn out badly, with no strong parent
figures in their lives. For some reason, the mystery man Stanley Perkins
had selected orphan boys as the targets of his attention.

"I think we all love, you, Jeff," he whispered. "Please hold me, like you
did last night, when I was Kevin in our dream," Ian said, and suddenly
melted into my arms, his body slight, but warm and supple within my
grasp. His breath was hot on my ears as his breathing became shallow and
rapid, excitement mounting already. We embraced, sensation coursing through
each of us, and from one to the other. His warmth was exhilarating, and it
was far better than it had been in our dream, as utterly wonderful as that
had been.

His hold on me was intense, as though he were a drowning boy holding a
piece of flotsam, the sole connection to the remainder of his life. I
murmured in his ear as we sank to the sofa behind us. As I lay back, Ian
fell back against me, raising his face to mine, his blue eyes searching
mine.  "Do you love me?" he asked, his lips searching out mine, and I
groaned.

"Oh, yes," I said as his lips pressed to mine, and our passion blossomed,
our bodies writhing together, his so slight, so lissome, but so full of
energy. My hand roamed over his frame, his shoulders narrow, but bent
toward me, as he tried to burrow into the safety and comfort of my arms.

"Oh, Jeff, please make love to me," his breath raced across my cheek, hot
and rapid with need.

"What do you know of making love, besides what we, er, did in our dream?" I
whispered into his neck, under his ear.

"I've heard some other boys talking about it. Um, I know that one man puts
his mouth on the other man's dick," he said, "and kisses and licks it. I
know that they do something with the other's bum, though I'm not quite sure
what, exactly..." I chuckled.

"Well, as long as you're expert at it," I said, smiling.

"Oh, I'm not an ex-" he began, then, seeing my smile, pushed against my
shoulder, his hand small on my biceps, lingering. "Would you teach me?" he
said, smiling himself now. His body was shaking with excitement.

Do you recall your first time, dear reader, when you knew that something
absolutely tremendous was going to happen, but you weren't exactly sure
what it was? And that you wanted it more than anything else ever before in
your life? That was the excitement that animated Ian, and when I saw it
then, and when I think of it, even now, I recall my own first time, and the
incredible power such an event has over one.

"You seemed to know what to do with this, last night," I said, my fingers
outlining the tent pole that was his boyish cock, still fully covered,
unfortunately.

"I've learned how to make myself spunk," he whispered, still shy about such
things. "It's fabulous," he added. "Will you teach me more about that?"

"About that, and more," I said. "But first, and this is your first lesson,
lock the door!" So saying, I got up and walked over to the door, my own
cock also doing a great imitation of a flagpole. After locking the door, I
returned to the old sofa, Ian sitting primly on it, feet flat on the
floor. I knelt between his legs, and he separated them slightly to make
room, his 4" cock slipping upwards inside his pants to point back toward
his face, a position which was less beckoning, but which had to be more
comfortable for him.

"I'm going to take off your shoes and socks, and then remove the rest of
your clothes," I said, looking slightly upwards at him, as I knelt. He
shivered with excitement, and nodded, not trusting his voice to squeak. I
unlatched the velcro strips of his running shoes. The producers had bought
all of the boys clothes for the few weeks we would be filming, which
included medium grade running shoes from a subsidiary company.

Pulling the shoes gently off his small feet, he unconsciously flexed them a
few times, unsticking his white athletic socks from the skin of his foot. I
could hear a few, small pops and creaks as ankle, foot and toe joints
cracked. I brought my fingers to the top of each sock in turn, slowly
pulling the clean but damp socks down over his pale ankles, then off his
feet, his little toes wriggling in freedom once they, too, were uncovered.

I'm not particularly excited by feet, but Ian's were so cute, and so sweet,
that I couldn't resist kissing each of them as they were uncovered, on the
pale, white tops, still showing the impression of his socks. Ian giggled
with pleasure, and the novelty of the act. I tossed the limp, white hose
behind me, then looked up into his deep, blue eyes. "I'm going to take off
your pants now, okay?" I asked. He nodded again, looking solemn, and his
body shook noticeably with his excitement.

"Okay," he said, his voice cracking sweetly this time. His vocal response
came many seconds after he had nodded. The delay was caused, no doubt, by
the fear that his nod of assent hadn't been seen, and that I might wander
off without his intimate need being sated. "Yes, please," he added, a
spoonful of sugar on top of the cherry of the boyish sundae he was offering
me.

I began unbuckling his belt, the strip of new, stiff brown leather
resisting me, then all too easily giving up the ghost, the tongue falling
out of the brown hole (and yes, THAT metaphor has NOT escaped me!), leaving
only a brass rivet and a short silver-colored zipper as the barriers
between me and his underpants. I made short work of them, flipping the
rivet through the hemmed hole in the fabric at his waist, as the fingers of
my other hand began puling the teeth of the stalwart zipper apart, a flash
of brilliant white gleaming at me under the pants fabric, his cloth-covered
cock poking through the enlarged opening.

When I had the zipper down, I began tugging his pants down, off his slim
hips, the fabric bunching where his warm, round bottom met the rough fabric
of the sofa cushion, until he realized he needed to lift himself up. He
quickly did so, pushing himself up with his hands against the cushion, and
I continued pulling the pants down, off his thighs, pale and slim, smooth
and hairless. His groin was a small mound of boy sex, thin white cotton
fabric stretched over his fully erect cock, 4" long. His balls below it,
fat and pulled up, but also stretching out the pure white cloth of his
pristine underpants.

The pants continued on their merry way down his legs, to the floor. I
picked up his left foot, and removed the pants from it, then he got the
idea and lifted his right, and shook it to let it slip to the floor. His
legs, taken as a whole, were perfectly formed. Shapely, not overly
muscular, but evident of a boy who liked to run and play, completely
hairless and exquisitely complexioned - a creamy flesh color, with the very
faintest line at about mid thigh to show that he had received some sun
while wearing shorts, but not overly much sun.

"Ian, you know that other boys like to talk about the things their dick
likes, and what they can make it do, don't you?" I asked him, my right hand
resting familiarly on one of his shins, softly stroking it.

"Yes, sir, they do," he said. "I'm most looking forward to that, too."

"Well, the difference in being made love to by a man, as opposed to by
another boy, is that the man will take the time to show you how every part
of your body can bring you nearly the same pleasure, or maybe even more
pleasure, than your cock will. At least, if he's a good man, he will." I
smiled up at him. "You don't mind if we take our time, do you?"

"I trust you, Jeff," he said, his expression plaintive and longing. I think
at that point, he'd have taken any damned thing he could! But I was
interested in bringing him more pleasure than just a hit and run. I began
stroking the sides of his calves with my fingertips, first one leg, then
the other. Never increasing the pressure, but lessening it, to increase his
frustration at not being brought off quickly, he groaned, torn between the
pleasure of my touch, and the agony of not experiencing a release of
building sexual pressure.

I gradually moved my stroking of the undersides of his legs up to his
thighs, and he lifted them up off the floor to allow me better access,
obviously thrilled that my tantalizing touch, so mesmerizing and erotic in
of itself, was getting closer to his aching boy penis, still frustratingly
covered by his white briefs. I noticed now, though, a wet spot at his piss
slit. At first he put his feet on the edge of the sofa, but this forced him
into a slightly uncomfortable position, so I told him it would be okay to
rest his bare feet on my shoulders. He did, and it was apparent he was more
comfortable, as his body relaxed more - well, except for his cock, which
seemed quite stiff!

I slid my hands so that they were solely on his thighs, and traced my
fingertips down his smooth, slim, boyish flesh, but rotating so that I
caressed first, inside of his thighs, then the backs, then the outsides,
then the fronts, until his small bottom was rotating with pleasure.

"Take off your shirt," I coaxed him. Well, that part wasn't hard, as he
whipped the knit short- sleeved shirt over his head nearly before I
finished saying the words. His chest and stomach were as creamy pale as his
lower thighs. It was evident that he did occasionally take his shirt off to
exercise and play outside, but as rumor has it, England is not exactly the
sunshine capitol of the world.

His nipples and areolae were small, quarter-sized, and a dark pink. Hard,
sticking out maybe a half inch, and surrounded by those small, pink,
goose-pimpled areolae, they looked like delectable treats that would
provide me with a sweetness all their own, eventually. But I was focusing
on his lower half then. I slipped my index fingers under the elastic of the
briefs at his thighs.

His skin there was exquisitely sensitive, and he gave a gasp halfway
between a giggle born of a tickle, and that moan of pleasure born when a
tight grip descends over one's cock, when the tips of my index fingers
scraped over the fold of skin where the thigh becomes pubis. His head
lolled back, and I was afraid I'd made him cream his undershorts - not the
worst thing in the world, but not my intention. At least, not yet.

I could feel the light and curly pubic hair that sparsely inhabited the
warm, flat plain above his dick. Nothing like my own, dense and rough, his
hair was silky, and all the more charming by its lack of presence. Ian was
less sensitive here, though he cooed at the feel of a man's finger coiling
through his private thatch, small though it might be. As for me, I loved
the feel of a boy's hairy groin, caught between boy and burgeoning man, but
with adulthood still so far off.

The sides of my index fingers bumped against a hot and soft enveloping
surface. Ian's ball sack, as yet free of hair, but silky soft, his balls
moving from his excitement inside the fleshy sack against my fingers, like
small animals begging for a petting. I stroked his hairless balls, and Ian
lifted his ass up, happy for any new sensation I would bring him. I thought
about the tiny, no doubt equally hairless, puckered opening between the
cheeks of his boyish bottom, and how very much I would enjoy teasing that
opening, but I was in no rush.

"Jeff, God...." Ian's voice trailed off, erotic sensation short-circuiting
his brain. "I've never felt so good," he finished. I leaned forward, and
kissed the insides of his thighs, from his knees, up to the still confining
tight, white cloth. I could smell Ian's erotic musk, and even the faint,
darker scent from further down between his legs, and my cock ached as it
pressed into the rough fabric of my own pants, which now seemed three sizes
too small.

Then I slid the fingers of my right hand further up inside his tighty
whities, and wrapped them around the hot, velvet shaft of his young
penis. Ian moaned loudly, so loudly that someone standing outside of the RV
could easily have heard him. "God, yes!!" he groaned. "Fuck me," he
whispered, though I suspected that was a visceral, instinctive response,
not an actual request.  Still, I'd be pleased if he begged to feel my man
cock filling his virgin hole, and perhaps that would happen. If not, his
pleasure would be my pleasure.

Rather than stroke up and down his shaft, pulsing with his strong heartbeat
now, which would most certainly make him shoot his young load prematurely,
I backed off, slipping my fingers out from inside his underpants. Then,
gripping the waistband of the underpants with the index finger and thumb of
each hand, I slowly began easing them off his slim hips.

Ian scrambled to once again lift his butt up to ease my removal of this
last barrier. As his round ass melons lifted off the rough cushion, his
underpants pulled down his thighs, caught only on the fat, red tip of his
hot boy cock. As the smooth, ribbed waistband pulled over the piss slit of
Ian's cock, I was pleased to see a long thread of his creamy pre-cum
connecting the fabric to his penis, and lengthening, then ultimately
breaking as it was pulled away. I noticed a creamy white pearl of his
glistening fluid already taking its place in the opening of the tiny, dark
red slit.

I hurriedly slid the underpants off each leg, as he lifted up his legs, and
I was rewarded with a lingering glimpse of the naked, dark hole, much
bigger than his piss slit, nestled warmly and familiarly between his pale,
round ass globes. Ian noticed my eyes on a spot below his balls, and
surmised I was looking at his ass hole, giggling and breaking the building
sexual tension.

"Your boy pussy looks luscious," I said, easily.

"Does it?" he asked. "I'm glad you like it, see?" he giggled again, lifting
his legs up farther to better show me his opening. "I'm so glad you like
it," he huffed, as the weight of his legs brought them back down again.

"I'm glad I wasn't in there kissing it....... just then," I commented
wryly, making a small joke, but also wanting to give him some idea of the
further pleasures awaiting him. His eyes widened at the implication, and
his hard cock, already pressing against his stomach with his nearly
overwhelming desire, pulsed several times, and a small, clear stream of his
slick male fluid coursed down one side of the dusky pink shaft.

I leaned forward, and without further ado, enveloped his plump, angry red
cock head with my lips, which I had already wetted with my tongue. The
salty-sweet taste of Ian's ejaculatory fluid was tangy on my tongue, and I
swirled my tongue around the plump knob, like a boy swirling his tongue
around the top of a soft serve cone, and to much the same effect. Like that
metaphorical boy, I came away with a mouthful of creamy white fluid, as Ian
suddenly exploded into my mouth, a hot shot of his semen jetting across my
tongue, his orgasm intense and unexpected.

I had suspected that it really wouldn't take much, and so I was prepared
when thick globs of his boy sauce followed, coating the top of my tongue
with the liquid evidence of his ecstasy. I slowed my licking of his
circumcised dick, since it was no longer necessary to stimulate him in
order to bring him pleasure. Indeed, I thought he might even find it
painful. The fragrance of boy musk filled my nostrils, the taste of boy
sperm filled my mouth, the heat of Ian's groin baked my face - it was one
of the most erotic moments of my life, causing the loss of this particular
boy's virginity. But it didn't seem to me that he was losing anything,
rather, his world was opening to so much more than he had ever imagined.

His young boy penis stayed hard, and hot, for the longest time in my
mouth. As I felt it slowly soften, I squeezed my lips around it one more
time, so that I wouldn't leave any of his boy essence on it, when it would
serve me better in my mouth. Then I licked it as I slowly let his heat slip
out of my mouth, its weight feeling so marvelous.

I got up, my dick nearly poking a hole in my pants, then sat down next to
him, pink and naked and vulnerable by my side. "C'mere," I murmured, and he
climbed into my lap as I held him. He nuzzled his face against my neck and
throat warmly and submissively, content to be in my strong arms. His ass
was warm on my lap, his dick, for once soft and resting beautifully over
his balls, his piss slit still dark red and moist inside, and still leaking
a minute quantity of his marvelous cream.

He looked deep into my eyes, eyes full of love, and slowly brought his
ruby-colored lips, moist and full, to mine. Our lips pressed together, and
I heard him give a little squeal of delight when his questing tongue found
several globs of his fresh, hot boy cum still in my mouth. His breath raced
across my cheek, hot and loud so close to my ear. We kissed passionately,
cum and saliva racing swapping from mouth to mouth, and back again, our
ardor increasing.

"Jeff, that was the best cum I ever had," Ian breathed. "It felt like my
whole body shot out through my dick."

"Mmm, glad you enjoyed it. I love making you cum, sweetheart."

I held Ian in my arms, his naked body moving so sweetly and sexily against
my completely clothed one. And I found that extremely erotic - to be fully
clothed myself, but have a naked boy lover in my arms, pressing himself
against me, allowing me a small sampling of the pleasures of his body.

His young 4" cock, already hard again, pushed hungrily against my own,
lying flat, but equally hard, against my stomach. His smooth cheek against
my stubbled cheek, his moans as my rough beard irritated his smooth skin,
turning him on with one kind of male to male pleasure. His hips pressed
insistently against mine, his unconscious desire to impale my body with
his, and knowing that he would, soon. His arms, slim but strong, holding me
to him, and him to me, and never wanting to let go. His very nakedness an
open declaration of his love for me.

I knew I would always want a naked boy to greet me when I came home from
work, to see the gladness in his eyes when I entered the room....and him.

I knew I could love Ian greeting me that way. And Jeremy.

I had never forgotten Jeremy, from the burgeoning love we shared in my very
first dream, and I could only hope that we would share love again. But only
time would tell how that turned out, and I had a job to do. I had thought
on the subject of Stanley Perkins, and what, or who, he might be. Was it
possible he was merely a devil, playing me for a fool against a loving God?

I thought not. His machinations, while convoluted and nearly completely
opaque to me, had never resulted in any evil, or harm, or ill that I could
see, but HAD brought love to many places it had not previously existed, and
how could that be bad? Evil is the absence of good, I believe, but there
was only good here. There WAS some sort of competition going on, and I was
only seeing part of it, like a man racing in pitch dark, and I could only
think that its nature would eventually be revealed to me, or not.

But I wanted to halt these thoughts, and return to Ian's sweet embrace. He
was kissing my cheek, murmuring of his love. I kissed his downy cheek, then
his soft, warm lips, and said, "Are you ready to make love a different way,
darling?"

His eyes sparkled with joy, then he asked, "Will it hurt?" I shook my head,
still next to him.

"No, I promise it won't," I said. "Now lay on your stomach on the sofa."
Ian stretched out on the sofa, neatly tucking his erect cock and pink balls
between his thighs, his beautifully perfect bottom facing upwards, toward
the light fixture directly above us. I gently stroked him again, much as I
had earlier, from the sensitive soles of his bare feet, up calves to
thighs, dallying at the prominences of his warm, round ass, then to gently
massage his back until he was completely relaxed.

His body was beautiful, and perfect, youthful coltishness turning into
masculine hardness, but not yet too far along. "I'm going to do your bottom
now, Ian," I whispered, more to myself. He gave no sign he'd heard me,
sighing softly with pleasure. I gently spread his legs to give myself
access to the small opening that I wanted to explore so badly. He complied,
moving his legs farther and farther apart, as I knelt between them.

His bottom was two perfectly spherical, or hemi-spherical if you want to be
picky, pillows of warm, soft boy flesh. Slightly plumper and more
eye-pleasing than many, I thought it one of the loveliest boy bottoms I had
ever seen, and certainly far more exciting than any woman's.  Between those
heated pillows, pale yet also rosy, lay a darker furrow, darkening in its
depths as his ass cheeks separated. His fragrance was sweet and spicy,
humid and hot, not unpleasant, but then he was remarkably clean, which
pleased me immensely.

I brought my face down closer to Ian's dark furrow. It looked as though his
skin color naturally darkened there, as it does in many boys and men, but
at the very center, the glistening jewel of his boy anus glistened pinkly
with moisture, sweat perhaps. An oval stitched with puckered flesh, it
expanded and contracted as he felt stray sensations from my breath there.

I touched his soft skin with the tip of my finger, and it contracted
slightly. "That tickles," Ian murmured over his shoulder. "But it feels
nice." I teased his anal pucker with my finger, lightly pressing into him
to judge how tight it was. For the longest time I caressed him there, still
not inserting my finger inside him where there was resistance. Ian sighed
with pleasure.

"Is that fucking?" he asked, tremulously.

"Not quite," I answered. "But it feels lovely, doesn't it?"

"Oh, yes," he sighed. "I like that."

"Your bottom is so sweet and round, Ian," I said. "Your cheeks are quite
tasty looking. May I eat your bottom?" Ian giggled.

"Okay, but leave me something to sit on, please." He wiggled his butt
saucily for me. I leaned forward and kissed his bottom, lingeringly, each
cheek again and again.

"Oh, Ian, your ass is perfect!" I said. "I really would eat it, if I
could."

"Well, I very much like your kisses there," he hinted coyly. I kissed and
licked every square inch of his boy bottom, over and over, until I thought
he would be quite raw. Then I began to focus on his equally alluring anus,
nestled between those plump cheeks. I blew lightly over the puckered oval
of flesh, and Ian sighed.

"Wow," he said, moving his butt upwards slightly, the better to feel my
breath racing across it.  His fragrance there was a little earthier,
frankly, not particularly surprising, considering what ass holes are
usually used for, but it was not unpleasant, and his skin surrounding his
boy pussy was quite clean. I reached out with my tongue, its rough tip
scraping over Ian's sensitive pucker.  He yelped softly.

"Goodness, what WAS that?" he asked, trying to turn.

"Well, before I can eat your bottom I must taste it," I teased.

"That was your tongue? In my bum hole? Oh, Jeff, are you sure?" he sounded
a little concerned, but also torn with desire for more.

"Yes, I'm quite sure that was my tongue," I confirmed.

"No, I meant, in my bum hole?" he repeated.

"Oh, yes, that was indeed my tongue on your sweet little hole, honey. But
there's more," I said.

"Well, okay," he responded dubiously. I leaned forward, my tongue
contacting Ian's deep pink anal opening much more intimately, lapping over
and penetrating each and every fold of his anal ring, over and over, the
slick feel of his anus unusual compared to the `fleshier' feel of most
skin.  If Ian was still dubious about the oral attention being paid to his
ass, he apparently got over it, as he was cooing and sighing happily. I
reached between his legs, under his soft, velvety ball sack, and gripped
his cock, quite hard again.

Then I stiffened my tongue into a little flesh spear, and slipped it
between his ass lips, into the musky, musty opening to his rectum. Ian
groaned, a deeper response to actual penetration of his most intimate
opening, the deepest secret a boy can share with a man. My tongue, wet and
aided by its active salivation, slipped deeper into his anus, heat
increasing to molten temperatures inside the boy. I could feel his anus
tighten momentarily at first, then relax as Ian came to terms with the
pleasure of being penetrated by a man. Not by a man's cock, of course, but
when it's your first time, a tongue itself can feel so large.

As Ian adjusted to my tongue fucking, my pink spear slipped deeper inside
him, and his hips responded instinctively, his ass thrusting backwards into
my face, as he now strove to feel penetration even deeper inside him. I
slowly fucked in and out of his tight hole, so hot and sweet.  I could feel
his ass alternately gripping and relaxing around my tongue, and I could
only imagine how it would feel on my cock.

"Fuck me, Jeff, please fuck me with your hot tongue," Ian urged me, and I
was only too happy to continue. As I licked and fucked his ass hole, I
salivated profusely, to further lubricate and ease his rear passage. "Oh,
yes that's SO good," he murmured, his hips rotating now, his reactions
entirely those of a boy out of control in love with the feelings that sex
were bringing to him.  "Fuck me, fuck me," he cooed, his hand going down
between his legs, to stroke himself while I orally fucked his ass.

After I had pleasured his ass for many long minutes, I figured Ian was
ready for more. "Was that nice, baby?" I asked him, as he lay with his face
against the sofa, but his ass high in the air. If a boy was readier to be
fucked than he was, I'm not sure who that would be. But there would be more
to his pleasuring.

"God, yes, Jeff!" he exclaimed. "Keep making me feel so good!" the
twelve-year old finished.

"Okay," I said, bringing my finger tips back to his dark hole, now slick
and much more open, so much so that I could see the glistening pink tunnel
revealing itself for me. I slowly slipped my index finger inside his anus,
up to the first knuckle, and Ian sucked in his breath. No matter how ready
you think you are the first time, you're not. So I kept my finger in him
there for a minute or so, just to the knuckle, then removed it.

Sounding surprised, Ian said, "It feels empty inside, there. Put it back
in." I slipped my finger back in, then immediately out, then back, over and
over, fucking his small, boy pussy with just the tip of my finger, but
pressing more against the sides of his anal ring pressing back, and then
lingering with my finger tip against the sides of his pink rectum, savoring
its slick, hot feel.

His hips moving actively, Ian pressed back to urge more of my finger inside
him. So, I obliged his need, thrusting my finger ever deeper, until it was
as far inside as I could get one finger. "I feel so full, Jeff," he
moaned. "But it feels good," he assured me, his fingers dancing over his
hard dick, hanging down between his legs.

I reached below his boy anus with my other hand, and stroked the underside
of his pink ball sack with my fingertips. Ian moaned loudly. "Fuck!" His
stroking speeded up, and as I pulled my finger out of his ass, then thrust
it back in, combined with my other hand tickling his sack, Ian erupted in a
second orgasm, his hole tightening around my finger, and his balls pulling
up towards his cock, as his body expelled more jets of his fresh, creamy
boy cum, hot and salty- sweet, onto the pillows of the sofa. I idly
thought, "We'll have to remember to clean that before we leave," then
returned my attention to Ian's pleasure.

"Ohhh," Ian sighed, his body relaxing onto the sofa, his anal sphincter now
much looser and relaxed. I took my fingers off his balls, and began
stroking the backs of his thighs, below his ass.  He bubbled with sounds of
pleasure and contentment. "That was quite wonderful," he murmured.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Ian, but gently, okay?"

"Yes, Jeff, I'd like you to do it to me, please," he said, his face pressed
to the cushion. I leaned over his sweet little ass, and spat several large
globs of saliva onto his little hole, and spread it in there, but more so
into the long furrow between his warm cheeks, until there was a valley of
warm spit between his round globes. Then I stood in front of him, and began
stripping in a workmanlike manner, not teasingly, just stripping down,
taking my time, and letting him see clearly what he was getting.

I stripped off my golf shirt, my chest hairs matted down, then gradually
uncoiling. My nipples, a dark brown, were stiff and sticking out about a
half inch. I idly fingered them, and Ian swallowed when he saw they were
stiff. I think even at a young age, boys become aware of sexual signals.
He wiggled his hips a little. Then I unbuckled my belt, pulled down the
zipper, my dick pressing out inside my boxers, through the opening.

"My dick is really hard, Ian, from my thinking about your sexy boy body,
and how good you taste, and feel to me," I said, my pants falling to the
floor. I kicked them off, then spread my legs to give my heavy, cum-filled
balls a chance to breathe after being cooped up so long. Then I pushed my
boxers down off my hips, my 8" cock stiffly erect and pointing upwards and
outwards from my groin. I had a thick patch of curly dark hairs crowning
it, and more hair on my ball sack, heavy and wrinkled. Ian's eyes widened,
and he unconsciously licked his lips.

"Want to taste it, honey?" I murmured. Ian nodded slightly, and rose up a
little, while keeping his crotch flat on the sofa. I leaned down next to
him, and brought the dark red head of my circumcised cock to his mouth. The
piss slit was slimy with my pre cum. Ian opened his lips hesitantly, and I
pressed my anxious dick forward. I could feel his soft, warm and wet lips
on my penis, for the first time, the heat and moisture of his mouth
enveloping my fat dick head.

"Be careful not to let your teeth touch my dick, baby," I cautioned him,
then pressed forward slightly. I didn't want to overwhelm him, knowing it
was his first time, only wanting him to get used to the feel, and taste,
and smell of a man's cock in his mouth. The rest could come later, if
ever. Ian was a natural, his tongue swirling around the plump cock head,
licking up my pre cum as though it were ice cream.

He sucked on my cock for a few minutes, then he brought his right hand up
to stroke the length of my long, pink shaft while he suckled on my dick. I
let him enjoy himself, as I was enjoying the sensation of a boy's mouth on
my penis, then gradually began to pull away. "Now I'm going to fuck you,
baby," I said. He let me pull away, and waited supinely. I moved between
his legs, then knelt between them, my cock ever closer to his warm and
waiting ass.

I knelt forward further, until my hard rod was lying between his hot
cheeks, in the long puddle of spit. Then I began frigging myself between
those two round ass globes, fucking his hot boy furrow. My dick stroked
back and forth in that narrow channel, fucking his ass globes, but not his
hot, boy ass hole. Oh, I REALLY wanted to fuck Ian in his tasty and warm
ass hole, but I knew that I was too big, and he was too virgin, for me to
be the first to fuck him there. I wanted him to love the feel of cock in
his ass, but it would be totally unfair to rip into him.

I had seen when I licked and finger fucked him, that he was much too tight
to have a man's big dick fucking his unusually tight boy pussy, even
tighter than the other boys' pussies had been. I never wanted any of these
boys to feel pain from being made love to, so, at least in Ian's case, I'd
have to do something other than ram my cock in his ass.

So, as I fucked between his ass cheeks, I slipped my right hand between us,
between my hot, hairy crotch, and his warm, soft ass, and began slipping
two fingers into his compliant hole. Even that was a tight fit, but it was
far more enjoyable for Ian than my battering ram would have been.  I fucked
my fingers in and out of his hole, as my dick sawed between his butt
cheeks, until his hips were rocking upwards and around in excitement and
desire. My other hand I slipped under his hip, squeezing and stroking his
dick, hard again.

"Fuck me, Jeff, God, it feels so good!" he moaned. "I love feeling you
inside me, fuck me hard, I love you!" he nearly screamed, in ecstasy. I
worked myself up to a state in which I knew I couldn't turn back, which
certainly wasn't difficult, then pulled off his enticing body and quickly
lay down next to him, my head to his hot crotch, and his head to my
cock. My cock was already beginning to spit cum.

"Take it in your mouth, suck it!" I moaned. He quickly wrapped his lips
around my fat cock head, as I slipped my mouth and lips over his, and I
shot several long, thick loads of man cum across his tongue and filling his
mouth. Because my dick wasn't too deep inside his mouth, there was no
chance of him choking on my sperm. He let my cum fill his mouth, savoring
it, but also not exactly sure what to do with it, as I contentedly stroked
and milked my cock between his lips.

His dick was still quite hard, as I'd brought him to the brink of orgasm a
third time. I leaned over and kept his cock as deeply inside my mouth as I
could, nearly inhaling his meat. Stroking his shaft with my fingers, and
swirling my tongue around its sensitive head, he came again, hardly any
semen this time, and what there was, watery, but it was nice. We lay there
content for a few seconds, then I moved to lie with him, head to head and
feet to feet, and kissed his sweet boy mouth, finding his mouth still full
of my cum.

We shared each other's cum as we kissed, eventually swallowing our mixed
semen, and he fell into my arms, two naked males enjoying the afterglow of
lovemaking. Eventually, I said, "We have to go now, Ian, it's getting
late." He nodded sleepily against me. I imagine that cumming three times,
while it's easily possible for such a sexy and randy boy, still would be
quite draining!

We dressed, and walked out to my car. "It looks like you're going to miss
dinner with the other boys, Ian. Would you like to dine out with me?"

"Sure," he said. "Could we try hot dogs?" I smiled. Boys are always boys,
no matter how old they are.

"Absolutely, I know just the place," I replied. We drove to one of the
local branches of a national hot dog fast food chain, and ordered a couple
of hot dogs each, along with lemonade. As we munched on the wonderfully
delicious treats, we talked about different things.

"I love American hot dogs," Ian confessed, "though I never had one before
we came over here."

"They are quite good," I said. "I think they're the most popular food sold
at baseball games, though since I was a player, I never got any." Ian
grinned at that.

"But I could have them, couldn't I?" he asked.

"Of course," I replied. Ian took one of his remaining hot dogs out of its
bun, and lasciviously slipped it between his lips, eyeing me all the while.

"Mmmm," I love this," he said, fucking it in and out of his mouth.

"Sexy boy," I grinned back. "You did well with my weiner," I said. Ian
almost choked with laughter, then took the hot dog and put it back in the
bun.

"Jeff, you didn't really put your dick in my bottom. How come?" he asked.

"I wanted to, Ian, I REALLY wanted to, and someday, maybe soon, I
will. There's nothing I'd like better than to fuck my hard cock deep inside
your tight, sexy bottom. But you've never had anyone up there before. If I
were to have fucked you back there in the trailer, especially as excited as
I was, and as much as I wanted you, I very possibly might have hurt you,
because I'm just too big, and your little pussy is just too small," I
explained.

"I felt like I really wanted to feel you deep inside me," he said, eyes
downcast. "But I guess I understand, and I appreciate you not wanting to
hurt me. But, I really, really want you to fuck me soon. Your fingers
inside my bottom felt SO good, and I pretended they were your cock." He
paused.

"Do you think one of the other boys might be small enough that they
wouldn't hurt my butt?" he asked.

I grinned at him. "Who did you have in mind?" Ian looked suddenly shy.

"Well.....that blond boy, Ethan? I think he's kind of, well, cute. I
sometimes think about what it would be like to hold him, if we were both
naked, y'know?" Ethan was the boy Ian had been with in my first dream, the
`orgy' dream, where many of the boys had been partnered off. I could only
guess that the dream had either been a foreshadowing of the future, or else
some reflection of desires that were already in the boys' hearts.

"I have a feeling you might get that chance someday, Ian," I said, being a
little mysterious myself for once.

"I hope so," Ian responded, not really thinking I might have any particular
insight. "And you know what I really liked, besides your fingers being in
my ass, I mean?"

"No, what?" I asked.

"When you came in my mouth, and I came in yours. In the dream, you
remember, the one where I was lost in the woods, and you saved my life? I
licked up your cum when you came between my legs. I didn't really know why
I did it, I just wanted to, but the funny thing was, the way I remember it
tasting in the dream, was just like what it really tasted when your penis
came in my mouth, kind of salty and sweet, and real creamy. The funny thing
was, before we had that dream about the woods, I had never, ever tasted
anybody's sperm, not even my one, but it tasted in my imagination just the
way it really does taste, at least yours!" He had a confused look on his
face.  "How would I know?"

I certainly had no idea how a boy could imagine what the taste of a man's
cum would be like, if he'd never experienced it beforehand, but I could
only chalk it up as one more mysterious accomplishment of the very
mysterious, and perhaps diabolical, Stanley Perkins, who I'd first met as
one `Brother Sybilious'. And come to think of it, I'd barely seen Stanley
Perkins since the night he informed me that I would be responsible for
initiating each of the nine sweet boys into the gay experience, in order to
save their lives and perhaps their souls.

I could only suppose that he had set the wheels in motion, and was
satisfied with how things were going. There seemed to be some power
watching over me, and the boys. The dreams, me with each boy, were
continuing apace. The opportunities I had to experience sex with the boys
`in real life', when I was absolutely certain I was in my own life and not
some dream, were never ruined by nosy crew workers, or someone accidentally
intruding into our lovemaking. That certainly didn't seem normal, but I
wasn't going to complain. I was falling in love with each of the boys,
night after night, even aside from the sex we had. They were the sweetest
and kindest boys I had ever met in my life.

"Ian, I really don't know, but I think I can tell you that something
special is happening with all of us, you nine boys and me, and that,
someday, some way, we'll perhaps find out what it is." He looked satisfied
with that explanation.

"Now, we've got to get back, okay?" I said. He nodded.

When we got back to the hotel, Ian said, "Jeff, could you please, please,
let me sleep with you tonight? I'm way too tired to go to our rooms, and
I'd feel safer if I could sleep in your bed, in your arms. I promise I
won't ask again."

I thought I might be making a mistake, but it would hardly be my
first. Besides, I could see he was feeling particularly insecure, and in
any case, we'd both cum enough that I figured all we'd do was sleep, though
I had no idea where my dreams, if any, would take me.

"Well, okay Ian, but it's just to help you sleep tonight. Tomorrow, you'll
go back with the other boys, okay? It doesn't mean I don't love you, I do,
but it wouldn't be fair or right if you slept with me all the time. Okay?"
He took it much better than I thought he would, and he behaved perfectly on
the way up to the room. By the time we got there, he was yawning
monster-sized yawns, and quickly slipped off his clothes, then under the
covers with me. The second our heads hit the pillows, we were both asleep.

============================

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