Date: Wed, 25 Apr 2007 13:53:23 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jeff Spencer <jeffspencer69@yahoo.com>
Subject: Clash of Cultures, Part 9 (M/b, masturbation)

Clash of Cultures, Part 9 (M/b, masturbation)

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 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

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. By night, I was
fucking each of them, one by one. 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.

Getting back to the continuing story, the commercial shoot after my morning
delight with Michael was a little draining, considering that the 14 year
old cutie had milked my cock in a most wonderful, though draining,
fashion. On the set, I noticed that the boys were growing together, as boys
do when they become more familiar and at ease with each other, and possibly
due to their shared proclivities for gay sex, though so far only those with
whom I dreamed had realized their potential.

While the boys were all very friendly with me, and even familiar, touching
me as you might an old friend, still I was happy enough when the day's
shoot finished and the boys went off in the vans, leaving me alone to
return to the hotel. I decided to drive through the Greater Birmingham area
and `see the sights' a little bit. After all, about all I'd done in
Birmingham, Alabama up until now was eat, work, sleep and dream of fucking
young boys. Oh, and actually fuck a couple of those boys! I drove to the
Birmingham Museum of Art, and wandered around. The collection of
Renaissance Art was actually pretty interesting, though I can't say I'm any
type of art expert.  Then on to Vulcan Park to enjoy the greenery and the
views of the city.

I found myself eyeing young boys at each of those places - not with an eye
to inflicting myself on them - I would rather die than harm a child - but
rather just to appreciate their beauty. Young boys are so slim and playful,
not weighted down by either the aggressive nature of the adult male, nor
the sullen silence of those immersed deep in adolescence, but clearly and
brightly greeting the wonders of the world around them. I found myself
wishing that I could return to that innocence.

Instead, I mused, I had been tasked by a `mysterious stranger,' Stanley
Perkins, aka `Brother Sybilious', to reveal to a number of young, British
boys, their future as gay males, and in their dreams, to show them the
pleasures of that life, to be their introduction to the ecstasy of another
male's cock, ass and the rest. One can never be absolutely certain that the
actions one takes are right, but must compare them to the standard
established during one's life. I believed that what I was doing was right
and correct, and would provide each of these boys with a view of the life
choice that would be best for them.

In many cases, I never actually touched these boys, as our relationships
were forged in shared dreams. But in several cases, most recently young
Michael, revealing his interests to the boy provoked him to initiate a
relationship with me, and I went along with it. So, I don't consider myself
blameless, but a tool of a higher power. And, frankly, I enjoyed it.

I stopped for dinner at Hot and Hot Fish Club, trying the Shrimp and Grits
with Country Ham (it's good), then returned to the hotel, and watched
television for a little while, expecting that once I went to sleep, I would
once again find myself with one of the boys, but not necessarily realize
that it was a dream. I took a long, hot bath, soaking and relaxing my
muscles, a favorite way of easing into sleep for me. I dried off, then
slipped under the covers naked, the sheets cool against my hot skin. Within
seconds I was asleep.

Dreams - The Rescue

I found myself in a heavily wooded area, tall, thick evergreen trees
everywhere, mainly hemlock and fir, blocking my view more than twenty feet
in any direction. I could see clouds in the air from my breath. "Jeff?" a
voice said, startling me. I turned around to see a group of 5 men, grizzled
looking, three of them dressed as I imagine lumberjacks look, and two
wearing sheriff's deputy uniforms. "Seemed like you were daydreaming," the
speaker, one of the deputies, said.

"No, I was just thinking about how tough it would be to find him in this
thick brush," I said. I seemed to know that we were searching for a young
boy scout who'd gotten himself lost in the Willamette Forest, in
Oregon. His name was Kevin, and he was 12 years old. At the time, it didn't
surprise me that there were so few searchers, or that our clothing and
equipment was so primitive.

"The sheriff couldn't get any more searchers in this part of the woods,
Sam?" I asked.

"You know there's not that many men available, other than old grandfathers
or boys Kevin's age, what with the War in the Pacific and over there in
Europe taking all the men. Geez, if anyone should know it'd be you, Jeff. I
reckon you'd still be over there if you hadn't taken that shrapnel, where
was that, over France somewheres?"

"Yeah, but I was lucky," I said. "At least I got a chance to come back." I
became aware that I was limping slightly. "I'll be fine," I said.

"Anyway, we're responsible to comb this 10 by 10 quadrant, 100 square
miles, to see if we can't find him. Bad weather's coming in, and he doesn't
have that much by clothing, according to his scout master, no coat, just
his uniform." Sam assigned us our areas, and without much more fuss, we
separated and set off to our search areas.

My area was a fair hike, a block about 4 miles by 5 miles that encompassed
several peaks, swelling meadows, all the way down to the McKenzie River
that bisected the wilderness. The several mile hike caused me to work up a
slight sweat, but the deep shadows that covered most of my route along the
abandoned logging road, kept a chill in my bones. The temperature during
the day wasn't much above 45 degrees, and at night it got down to 10
degrees, a chill that never quite left the pine-needle covered ground all
around us.

The lost boy was a 12 year old boy scout named Kevin Fitzpatrick, a
black-haired, slim boy about 5' 2" tall. He'd been lost for a day,
including the overnight, and as I said, when last seen on a `snipe hunt',
he'd been wearing only his scout uniform, with no coat and no back pack of
supplies. I was bogged down with a sleeping bag and enough food and other
supplies for a couple of days, and with the survival skills I'd been taught
in the Army Air Forces, and which I'd used for a few days hiding from the
Germans in southern France, that would be sufficient.

I hoped and prayed that I'd be able to find the boy - it would break my
heart to see a young boy lost, when he should by rights be enjoying his
adolescence. I'd seen enough death in the fields of France, and I was done
with that. I began systematically searching through my grid, looking for
someone who might be unconscious, but calling out for him regularly in case
he was hunkered down, waiting for rescue.

Most of wilderness searching is kind of boring. A lost boy is going to be
on the ground somewhere, so you're focused on the ground in front of you,
the ground on either side for a distance of about 40 feet, and a sweeping
view from side to side to reorient yourself, repeated thousands of times,
with only breaks to investigate something that doesn't look `right'. It's
too easy to become blind to what you're looking for, just as driving a
DeSoto on a long road trip on Route 66 can mesmerize a fellow between
cities. So every once in a while you just have to shake the monotony out.

I hiked along for the rest of that day, finding nothing more than some old
beer and pop bottles, and an old fisherman's platform down by the
river. That represented the high point of the day, as with a floor and one
wall it represented the most shelter I could expect to find, so it seemed
an area the boy might gravitate to. There was a good chance I, or one of
the others, would find him down by the river. He'd already violated the
first scout rule when lost, `stay where you are', so maybe he'd remember to
follow the river downstream. I had no luck finding the boy there, but as it
was getting so dark, I had to cease searching for the night. I pitched my
canvas shelter half, and unrolled my sleeping bag. I set a small campfire
and heated a can of pork and beans, and opened a can of Spam. Eating that,
and washing it down with water from the river, then burying the crushed
cans, I went to sleep for the night, waking up at first light to resume the
search.

My search on the second day took me back up the mountain and down again, a
far more tiring hike than the day before, which had been mainly
downhill. My leg was starting to seriously hurt, and as the shadows
lengthened, the air took on a deep chill, flurries becoming at first light,
then much heavier.

I was close to concluding my search for the day, dark already swallowing up
most of the valley, when I came around a large granite outcropping down by
the river, about 100 yards from the bank, where the river rapids deepened
and became quieter. As I rounded the prominence, I gave a start when, to my
utter surprise, I saw the boy crossing over the river on a tree trunk that
had fallen over the banks. The tree had fallen at a point where the water
ran as rapids, but at a high rate of speed and probably no deeper than 3
feet. The shallow depth was misleading, though. The rocks in the rapids
were slimy with algae, and the water temperature hovered only a little
above freezing that time of year, consisting partially of snow melt. It was
extremely dangerous, and the water could kill in minutes.

It was one of the two boys from the cast named Ian, the black-haired
one. He had been blond Ethan's boyfriend in my `first dream'. In this
dream, though, his name was Kevin.

I thought about yelling to him, but I was afraid I'd startle him. As though
reading my mind, he looked up then, though. "Hey!" he yelled at me, in his
high, piping voice, waving his arms, with a big smile splitting his
face. "Hey, over here!" he yelled again, standing up on the trunk and
trying to run towards me. His feet immediately slipped on the moss-covered,
rotten wood, and he slipped off the trunk, his head hitting the wooden log
just before he splashed into the frigid water of the rapids. His body shot
downstream toward the pool, another 50 feet or so, and slipped under the
icy surface.

"Jesus Christ!" I yelled, even as I stripped off my gear and raced across
the rocky bank, diving heedlessly into the icy water, searching and
grabbing for the young boy's body before he had a chance to inhale any
water. I felt as though I searched for long minutes, but I guess it was
just a few seconds before I burst to the surface with the boy's shirt in my
hand, his body fortunately following. He was unconscious, but breathing. My
body was already numb from the cold.

I crab legged back to the bank, both of us completely soaked and the
near-freezing water already sending fingers of pain into my legs and
arms. My fingers were quickly numbing. I'd heard of guys dying from the
cold when they became wet, and so I had to figure out some way to get Kevin
and myself dry and warm.

I carried the boy back to where I'd tossed my pack, ice already forming on
both of us, on our skin, and pain wracking my lungs every time I breathed
in the increasingly colder air as the night shadows lengthened. I had to
think fast. I could start a fire, but had to get Kevin warmed first. I laid
out the sleeping bag on top of the ground tarp, then stripped Kevin's
soaking wet clothes off him, his skin already turning blue, although his
breathing was steady. I dried him as best I could, his body small and
lacking a pink tinge, and zipped him up naked in the bedroll, then hunted
for my matches in the pack. I knew I'd be able to find some wood for a
fire.

As I searched fruitlessly for the matches, I remembered that instead of
putting the matches back in the pack the previous night, I'd put them in my
pocket. "Shit!" I groaned. Reaching in, I pulled the wooden sticks out, the
match heads hopelessly wet. They might fire later, after drying out, but
they were no good at that point. I decided to lay out Kevin's clothes to
dry out, even though the air would soon be below freezing. I lay the
matches next to them, then stripped myself, throwing my own wet clothes
next to his. Our only chance would be to combine and conserve our body
heat.

I crawled into the sleeping bag with Kevin. Because my own skin was chilled
so badly, and Kevin had a slight chance to warm up before me, his body felt
hot to me as I slid in naked, next to his small, nude body, but in reality
both of us were on the edge of hypothermia. As if on cue, Kevin began
shaking uncontrollably, as his small body tried to compensate for the
cold. I took him in my arms, wrapping myself around him, his face next to
mine, the only part of us that was uncovered.

The shelter half was laying next to us, and I figured we'd use that over
our faces when we got the situation a little more under control. Kevin was
laying with his small, round ass pressed against my stomach, the back of
his head on my cheek. I could hear his teeth chattering. "Are we
gonna....gonna...die?" he asked, trembling.

"Naah, I didn't come all this way just to lose you, Kev," I said. "By the
way, my name's Jeff."

"Pl...pl...pleased to...to...to meet you," he whispered, "but you look
familiar. Were you out looking for me?" His body ceased trembling
momentarily.

"Yes, your parents and everyone were very worried about you," I said.

"My dad's fighting in the Pacific," he said proudly. "We don't know where
exactly he is, but I know he's very brave," he said. "He's my dad." I felt
like crying, hearing the love in his voice for his father.

"I'll bet he is, Kev, you be brave too, okay, like him?" I whispered into
his ear, now red-tinged.

"Did you fight?" Kevin asked me, snuggling back into my encompassing arms,
starting to warm up.

"Yeah," I said. "I flew a fighter, a P-51 Mustang. Over in France. We'd fly
from England, then run into some Messerschmitts, and we'd fight `em."

"How come you're here, instead of still over there?" he asked, with the
directness of a child.

"Well, I took a little shrapnel and my plane crashed. They decided that
they didn't need me any more and I came home. I was thinking about buying
some property back here in the woods.  When I heard you were missing, I
volunteered to help find you."

"You didn't even know me...did you?" he asked, trying to turn his head to
look into my eyes, his voice going from certainty to uncertainty.

"No, but I couldn't bear the thought of a sm-, of a scout being lost out
here. I know I wouldn't want to be."

"Yeah," he replied, apropos of nothing, quieting down. Then, "Um, so you
took my clothes off because they were wet?"

"Yeah," I replied. "In this cold, wet clothes would kill you pretty
quickly. They must have taught you that in the scouts, I bet. We learned it
in the Army Air Forces."

"Really?" he said incredulously, impressed that he would have learned
something in the scouts that they were also teaching servicemen. "I could
kill bad guys in France," he said. "Or in the Pacific," he added.

"Well, you don't need to do that right now, you just need to survive out
here tonight. Then tomorrow our clothes should be dry, and we can hike out
of here."

"Okay," he said, snuggling closer. "You feel nice and warm," he whispered,
soon dropping off to sleep in my arms. He must have been exhausted. I dozed
off next to him, our bodies conserving heat inside the sleeping bag, and
gradually warming up. It was some time in the depths of the deep, inky
black around us, illuminated only by thousands of stars light years away
but filling the sky, that I became aware that Kevin was awake.

"Jeff?" he whispered, facing me now, his breath hot on my cheek.

"Yeah?" I whispered back.

"Are there bears here?" he asked, his voice cracking a little.

"Um, no, I don't think so. They're hibernating."

"Oh.... what's that mean?"

"It means they're sleeping."

"Oh......thanks." Then he surprised me, kissing my cheek. I don't know how
to explain the feeling that went through me then. I guess it was the shared
near-disaster, then the forced intimacy of being naked with him, but it
seemed entirely natural to kiss him back, a chaste peck on his downy,
smooth cheek. That was when I noticed that his young cock was, well, hard
as Chinese algebra.

"Mmmm," Kevin moaned, pressing his cheek against my stubbled skin, and
hugging me intently.  "It feels good to feel you hold me," he confessed.

"Well, it feels good to hold you," I said in return.

"I know," he giggled. "I can feel your dick between my legs!"

"I'm sorry," I said. "It's just one of those things..."

"Oh, it's okay. The boys in my troop like to compare our weenies, and even
touch each other's sometimes. It feels really good," he advised me.

"Yes, it does," I said. I guess that was the wrong thing to say.

"Would you touch mine?" Kevin asked. I could feel him hold his breath. I'd
like to say I was torn, but I kind of wanted to touch him and bring him
pleasure.

"Um, okay," I said, sounding reluctant.

"Okay," he said all in a rush, letting out his held breath, racing hot
against my cheek. My fingers slid down his slim, smooth, hairless body,
caressing his round butt cheeks momentarily, lingering on his silky smooth
ass, then slipped between us to his stiff 4 inch penis, feeling the intense
heat of his boy tool, as it longed for the touch of another. I could feel
his dick, then his body, quiver with pleasure as I lightly grasped his
hardness between my fingers and palm. I stroked him slowly. His small balls
in their loose, hairless sack, lay against the side of my hand.

He buried his face against my cheek, then lifted up and kissed me
passionately, his warm, plump lips pressed against mine, his breath
entering my mouth. It was an amazingly erotic feeling to have a boy kiss me
so passionately, and know that it was my touch on his supple young body
that was raising his passion to such an ardent level.

And, my own.

We kissed, warmly and deeply, and Kevin even mounted me, rolling himself
over so that he was on top of me, though still secure inside the warm
bedroll, the shelter half draped over our joined faces, keeping the bitter
chill off our only exposed parts. Kevin pressed his body into mine, his
stomach against my chest, his crotch at about my stomach level, his young
cock trying to fuck into my belly button, but instead held away by the
controlling grip of my strong right hand.

My left hand came around his side to cup, then squeeze, his cute young
buttocks, two melon sized globes of boy pleasure, warm and soft in my one
handed caress of him there. As I teased and felt his pleasant boy ass, he
breathed rapidly down onto my face, pleasure coursing through him, as his
hot, moist breath cascaded onto my face.

Although I couldn't see his face, only the outline, I knew his eyes were
open and he looked down on my face as he shuddered with pleasure. "Stroke
my dick, Jeff, it feels SO good...your hand is so strong on my cock. God,
that feels so great! Squeeze my butt cheeks, pinch me there, it feels
good....touch me, yeah!" That went on for several minutes, Kevin telling me
what he liked, my right hand masturbating his silky smooth rod of steel,
with its velvet covering, his circumcised dick moving with me, as his young
hips pushed forward, then pulled back.

Meanwhile, my fingers caressed and felt his hot bottom, perfect, round boy
butt, so sweet, so tasty. I groaned that I couldn't turn him over and just
bite that lovely set of boy ass globes, but opening the sleeping bag would
doom us both. So I consoled myself with bringing him as much pleasure as I
could manually, but wanting to stretch it out, make it last a long, long
time, something memorable, something he would never forget.

I stretched my body out, having unconsciously been holding myself tight
together, as one does under a blanket in a cold room. Kevin gasped as he
felt the raw power of a man's muscles stretching against his frail young
body, and squealed with pleasure. I felt hot squirts of liquid hitting my
chest, as Kevin unexpectedly came on top of me, his young dick jetting his
fresh seed onto and around the curly dark hairs of my chest. "Oh! Ohh! Oh,
yeah, UNNHH!!!" Kevin moaned as his orgasm washed over him, his body
forming an arc of ecstasy momentarily, then slumping against me, the crash
following the release.

He humped his hard young dick against my chest, his sensitive glans
maximizing its pleasure from the silky feel of my chest hairs, his creamy
cum rubbing into my skin and hair. His slight body shivered again and again
from the mind blowing pleasure, then he slumped against me, his body hot
now, and slick from sweat on me. His mouth sought out mine, and we kissed
happily, our tongues intertwining sexily, his body flexing against me with
aftershocks of pleasure, quivers running through him..

I was still horny, and my hands both held his plump ass globes, then my
fingers slowly sought out the heated vortex of Kevin's anus, wet and open
for me. One index finger pressed into the plump ring around his hole, and
Kevin moaned even as he continued to kiss me. "Unnh," he moaned, pushing
his ass back into my hand, inviting me to penetrate him there.

I moaned into his mouth, too, my finger delighting in the pleasurable feel
of his wet, tight opening, my finger fucking deeper into his boy cunt, his
hot skin embracing my invading digit.  "Uhh, yeah," he moaned into my ear,
his cheek now against mine, his lips against my ear, his tongue saucily
tickling my ear lobe. I began finger fucking in and out of Kevin's
clenching pussy, his hips rotating around as he felt me fucking him.

Then Kevin's hand slipped between us, his fingers hungrily searching out my
hard, 8" cock. He began stroking me in a practiced way, forcing my dick
between his tightly clenched and sweaty thighs. It was clear he was
somewhat familiar with pleasing a male, if only himself, and I resolved to
ask him about it afterward. My cock slipped into the tight opening between
his hot thighs, slick and feeling just like his ass felt on my finger. Soon
I was humping hard into his ass, and between his legs simultaneously, while
his tongue fucked into my mouth.

He kissed and licked my throat, his warm, wet tongue and plump, red lips on
me, one arm around my neck, the other behind him. My finger was sawing in
and out of his sweet love hole, and my cock thrusting between his legs. I
could feel his sweet boy cock stiffening again, and soon I felt my own
orgasm overcoming me.

"Kevin, I'm gonna cum. Gonna shoot my hot jizz between your legs, fuck your
tight hole, kiss your sweet lips....." my voice trailed off as I felt pure
pleasure engulfing me, and when Kevin kissed me again, thrusting his tongue
deep inside my mouth, I shot load after load of my own, hot cum between his
thighs, my sticky sauce jetting out. I imagined I was filling his hot ass
with my cum, making the pleasure I felt even more intense. His hand behind
his leg was positioned to catch my hot, salty spurts of jizz. He moaned as
he felt my man sauce filling his palm, and squealing with genuine pleasure
as he felt my spasms of cum hitting him.

Kevin hugged me happily, then brought his cum-filled hand up to his face,
openly licking the pearly white cream from his hand, and grinning at
me. "Good," he grunted, threads of sperm connecting his upper and lower
lips. Once again he snuggled into my arms, content and ready to return to
sleep. "Kevin, was that your first time being with a man?" I asked him,
sleepy myself.

"With a man, yes," he yawned. "But I've done it some with other boys. I
like it better with a man, I think," he whispered, nestling his face in the
crook of my jaw, followed by soft snoring. I mused on that, but only for a
few seconds, because I too fell back to sleep.

The next day we woke early, the air still very crisp, too crisp for two
naked males. "Jeff, wake up," Kevin whispered urgently. "I've gotta pee."

"Unnh?" I responded sleepily, coming back to consciousness after the most
pleasant of dreams (within a dream!) "Oh yeah, no clothes," I
mumbled. "Here, I'll unzip the bedroll, and you lay on your side with your
pecker pointed that way, okay?"

"Okay," Kevin responded dubiously. I was fairly successful in getting an
opening for his dick to peek out, and almost immediately a steaming yellow
stream of boy piss arced out of the opening onto the ground at the edge of
the ground cloth, running for about 30 seconds, as he emptied his bladder
next to us. "Ahh," he said, signaling his finish.

Since we were now both awake, we worked out how we would retrieve our now
dry clothes. Of course, that pretty much meant I would go out naked,
quickly clothe myself, then bring him his outfit to dress himself inside
the warm confines of the sleeping bag. Then I checked the matches, which
were now functional once again. Soon we had a small fire going, and I fixed
Kevin a man's breakfast of scrambled eggs (made from dried eggs and river
water) and campfire coffee.  Kevin was voraciously hungry as well as
thirsty, but soon we were ready to hike back to civilization.

It was at that point that I woke up, back in my hotel room, and alone. I
was becoming used to the jarring `reality' of my dreams disappearing,
leaving me in the `reality' of my everyday life, but I was seriously
wondering which was the dream and which was my life. I expected that when I
got to the set, Kevin would have the guilty, somewhat confused expression
that each of the previous boys with whom I'd shared dreams had manifested.

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

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