Date: Mon, 03 Oct 2016 12:36:18 +0300
From: Ivan Ivanocich <ivan.ivanocich.97@mail.ru>
Subject: Dima's Choirboys 16

This story contains scenes of a mild sexual nature and if you are not
allowed to read it please don't. If you are not old enough please don't. If
by reading this you are breaking any laws in your country, then please do
not read any further. If however you do, you can legally and want to, then
read on and enjoy the story. Please DO NOT make copies, or post this.

Soon, Gena was spunking too, leaning back against the wall whilst sitting
on his bench, screwing his toes up tightly looking like a little boy having
his first wank!

"Oh. My fuck; it's coming," he groaned, leaning forward for a moment.

"Shoot it proudly, Mate!" Oleg encouraged and – fucking puberty! – he
did!  For an eleven-year-old ("Nearly fucking twelve, Mate!" Gena just
reminds us) he shot an impressive jet of mature spunk and active sperm
across the changing room, followed by another, high into the air, before
finishing off with some minor outpourings and collapsing backwards, his
hands falling to his side.

"`Classic!' as Dima would say if he were here, Kirill commentated. "Think
it's a draw between Oleg and Gena!  Gena because of his fucking bush and
Oleg for the extra spunk and big knob and balls!"

The boys had been so engrossed in their ministrations that they had not
noticed the entry of a small boy, who was standing, wide-eyed, as he
watched, fingering his own penis through the material of his underpants.
It was eleven-year-old Yarik, whom the boys had noticed was starting pubes
when they saw his him the shower earlier.

"Pashka, when will you come to tell our story?  The guys are waiting!" he
said, as if he had seen them just drinking tea together.

"It's okay, my little one," Pasha replied, getting his shorts and shirts
on.  "I'm coming now; we were just finishing washing," he added, rather
guiltily, as he took the little boy by the hand and led him away.

"See you guys in the morning!" he called back to the others.

"So, what did you see in there?" Pasha asked in casual manner as they
walked the corridor.

"Oh nothing of course; just you guys being rather normal," he replied,
squeezing Pasha's hand rather knowingly, as they entered the dormitory.

"Sorry boys, I was busy with some tasks.  Do you want a ghost story?"
Pasha asked as he sat on the side of his bed.

The boys jumped up immediately and came and huddled together on Pasha's
bed, Yarik fighting for a place next to his hero.

"A very frightening one, to make us sleep," little Roma commanded,
snuggling up to Pasha on the other side. And so, Pasha told the most
frightening tale, with his arms comfortingly around his charges, a story
enough to keep the boys awake all night but soon, it seems, all were ready
to sleep.

"It seems to me that you are ready to sleep," Pasha said softly.

"Can I sleep here with you?" Roma asked, lying flat on Pasha's bed in just
his pants, as they got ready.

"No, my little man," Pasha said, lifting the boy and carrying him over to
his bed and kissing his cheek.

"Oh, your tash tickels," Roma giggled, getting ready to sleep.

 Soon, Pasha had settled them all down, and he went last of all to little
Yarik, who was waiting for him.  Pasha kissed him on the cheek, like the
others, but Yarik, took his finger and pointed to his mouth.

"My father always kisses me like that," whispered the cute boy with
chestnut hair and a Slavic face," so Pasha obliged by kissing him warmly on
the lips, a sensation, Yarik did not want to release for some seconds.

"Sleep now, my little one," Pasha bid him and went back to his own bed to
sleep.  He lay awake for some time until he thought all were asleep before
going to his dreams too. It did not seem very long, but maybe it was an
hour later, when Pasha was awakened by a soft hand touching his face.  At
first he thought he was dreaming, but saw Yarik's face in the dim light.

"Pashka, I can't sleep," he whispered, sitting on the boy's bed.

"What is it my cute one, was it the story that frightened you?"

"No, it is something else, but I don't like to tell" the boy replied.

Pasha felt the boy's hand and it was trebling.

"Tell, Pasha," he whispered.  "I promise I will make it okay."

"You won't be angry? Well, here goes!  I can't sleep because my penis is
swollen very hard and it won't go down. So, now you know!  And I turned for
a long time but it is worse now, look!" he said, showing Pasha a now very
long and hard penis still mostly covered by the skin.

"It's okay: it will pass.  At your age there is an overproduction and it
will often happen, and you will soon know what to do," he said, gently
pulling the boy's pants back up to cover the erection, which was flat
against the boy's stomach.

"Pasha, Will you be angry?  I know what I want you to do, but I can't ask
you."

"Whisper it in my ear and I will promise not to laugh."

Yarik then went close up to Pasha's ear and whispered his request. Pasha
was a bit surprised but hid it.

"You want me to do to your penis what I did to your mouth earlier?"

Yarik didn't answer but just stood up in front of Pasha, who had sat up in
his bed, and tugged down his black pants again, exposing his mature-looking
member.  It was certainly very hard and swollen and the balls were quite
bulbous and much larger than most 11-year-olds.

 Pasha ran his fingers round the base feeling for the few hairs he had
clearly seen in the shower.

"Please, Pasha; it will go down if you suck it," the boy pleaded.

Perhaps Pasha had been mistaken and the boy was inexperienced, or perhaps
he was a master of seduction!

 Carefully, Pasha took the long member in his fingers and quite easily slid
the skin right back exposing the milk-white head, which was glistening in
the dim light.  All that was left to do was to take it gently in his mouth
and place his hands on the boy's inviting buttocks and he gently sucked and
massaged the balls.

"Oh, it won't take long,now, - I'll spunk soon," the boy whispered,
catching short breaths.  Pasha was almost expecting a dry orgasm but soon
he felt beautiful but sweet and salty juice shoot strongly to the back of
his mouth, and the penis jumped several times followed by two lesser shots.

The boy sighed and was finished and tried.

"Thanks Pashka, I can sleep now," he said, kissing him on the mouth again.
"And I love you very much".  He pulled up his pants, his erection much
diminished, and disappeared to his bed, falling into a beautiful sleep.

"Oh my fucking, bastard spunker!"  Pasha thought.  Krill is right. How is
it that small boys fall for me?"

 And now he had the same problem as little Yarik, but no-one to relieve
him.  But he had had a massive release earlier so it subsided quite
quickly, and Pasha soon fell again into sleep, waking next morning
wondering if it had been a dream.

Soon, all were ready and on the small bus by nine o'clock to go to the camp
facility where they would have breakfast.

"Pasha, I always thought you would be a great leader of men," Dima the
Director told him after he had observed him getting his small boys ready.

"They would do anything for you, I can see it".

"Oh, thank you, Dima; of course I would do anything for them," he replied
thinking about his friend Yarik, who was happily sitting on the bus
chatting to his friends.

Just then he saw the lecher Igor, the security guard, loading some
provisions into the baggage hold of the bus.  Pasha had observed him
talking to Yarik and little Roma earlier, with his hand on Yarik's bottom.
Not unusual in itself with adults and small children, but Pasha knew what
the man was up to. Before he got on the bus he went over to talk to him.

"So, you like the new little boys, Igor?" he asked, as the man had stopped
to smoke.

"What is it to you?  You don't even belong to this school."

"Not true," Pasha shot back; "In this camp I am official leader of the
small boys, and it is for me to look after them and see them safe."

"Not official, I think!"  Igor replied knowingly!  "To be leader you must
be aged 17, and have official papers, and you are just 15, and rather
small, despite your tash and hardened voice to seem big.  But we will help
one another," he said, putting out his cigarette.  "Don't worry about your
little boys.  I'll leave them for you," he finished, and as they were
leaning into the baggage hold, Igor got behind Pasha and roughly pressed
his hard penis into his arse between the buttocks and felt his ample balls
with the other.  Pasha let him have his moment of ecstasy, which was not
long in coming, before breaking away roughly, feeling the two had come to a
silent understanding.

"Hey, Pashka; what were you talking to that cunt Igor about for so long?"
Kirill whispered as he sat next to his best friend.

"Tell you later," he whispered back.  "I don't want my little ones to
hear," he finished, patting his friend on the leg and settling down for the
journey.

"Heh, Pasha," little Roma called.  "Is it true that your beautiful voice
has failed and you can no longer sing.

"I'm afraid so, my little one.  It happens to all boy sopranos in time."

"But little Dima is 16 and still has perfect voice," Yarik joined in.

"Don't worry, Yark: Dima has a slower puberty and good training, so he will
sing for some time yet.  It does not make him unusual, just lucky in part,
and grateful that he has such a good teacher in our Dimitry Petrovich.
I'll explain it all to you tonight," he added.

He thought he saw Yarik flush a little; he certainly smiled as he sat back
in his seat.

"What will you sing for me, guys?"  Pasha asked.

"What do you want?  Some Soviet songs, knowing your tastes," Sasha replied.

"Good idea," joked Pasha, because tomorrow Gleb will have us practising his
religious music.

"There's nothing wrong with church and sacred music, it is my favourite,"
Kirill retorted.  "And don't forget your dear Comrade Stalin loved it too.

"Yes, yes; I know all this information and love it too. Oleg, you have your
guitar?  Can you fetch it from the back of the bus."  The boy obeyed and
spent some moments tuning it.

"So, you know "The Blue Wagon" [it is an old Pioneer song].

Oleg thought so and tried some chords.

"Give me the guitar please, if you don't mind.  That is too low for our
voices," Kirill demanded.  With that the boy gladly gave the instrument to
Kirill who, after correcting some poor tuning, and calling Oleg a fool,
struck up in a beautiful key and then the boys began to sing.

"Shut up, Pasha," we don't like your new voice!" Kirill called out in jest
as they heard him trying to sing bass.

"You will soon have one like it," he replied.

"Try to sing contralto a third lower than us: here is the line," Kirill
replied and then demonstrated expertly," before going back to the soprano
part.

Their choirmaster, Dimitry was listening from the front of the bus.

"Not bad contralto, Pashka;" you could train that voice: Kirill will help
you," he called.

"Here is another one for Comrade Pashka – or is it Colya? – [ a joke
only picked up by those who knew Stalin's pet name]," Kirill called: " `Let
there be Sunshine' – And Comrade Sashka, take the solos, like you did in
the concert."

Soon Sasha was displaying his light and floating voice which had a very
emotional tone and was very suited to many types of music.

"Not bad, Sashka: can you sing that English duet, `Pie Jesu,' Dimitry
Petrovich called to him and Kirill.  "The rest can harmonise the chorus and
I will put in the bass."

"Okay, Guys, let's do it!" Sasha said.  "Kirill find the correct solfage.
Who will take the first part? – I? "

"Guys, you know it from the concert last year," Kirill stated as he gave
the note."

And so the boys sang beautifully and it was wonderful to hear the voices of
Kirill and Sasha blend together in perfect harmony, because they were very
musical, and Kirill, despite his rough and rude way with his friends, was
very cultured. As we know, he has a powerful and delicate soprano voice
like Sasha but, unlike Sasha, a rich second soprano and contralto voice too
on account of his stage of puberty.

"That was great," Pasha whispered to Kirill.  I wish I still had your
voice."

"Shut up, you blue cunt: it just gives you an erection to hear it," his
friend answered, resting his hand on his hairy leg and touching something
hard.

Remember, friends, that Pasha is the only true "blue" boy in our company
and his fantasy is really rough boys.  Kirill is half-so, and as for the
others, it's just normal messing around with their friends.

And so, our friends soon found themselves in the camp in a nice shaded
forest with a lake, and who should be waiting for them outside the living
house (corpus) but our old friend Gleb and his friend Ilya.  Remember that
Ilya, like Oleg, is a newcomer to the school, so he was a bit shy, but he
soon felt at home after they had greeted each other.

"Gleb, you old friend; you haven't changed a bit," Kirill joked, hugging
him.

"Just a bit taller, that's all," he replied, still in his soft, silky
voice, which somehow had taken on a more sexy appeal in a boy of his
stature and bearing, now almost like a Greek God!

He and Ilya had arrived some hour before and had already changed into nice
camp clothes of blue shirt and cotton shorts.

"Hello, Gleb. Hello, Ilya," Dimitry Petrovich greeted them with a
kiss. "Did you have a good summer?"

"Yes, of course.  Ilya came to stay with me after I came back from the
Church Camp and we gave some concerts together and earned some money that
way," he replied.

"Guys, I have presents for you all - You too, Dimitry Petrvich.  But later
perhaps!"

"Take your friend to the rooms, Gleb.  I think you have the list from the
administrator. And remember breakfast will be in 30 minutes in the
canteen."

"Yes, of course.  Come guys, we have nice rooms.  I will show you."  And
with that he led the boys onto the first floor where they had three very
nice rooms and a large room for playing games and activities.

At the end of the corridor, there was a room with five beds.  "This is for
Pasha and his little men,"

Gosha, Max, Yarik and Roman were to sleep with Pasha but Oleg, the other
new boy, being older, would sleep with the others. "So, there are five beds
in each of the other two rooms, so we can divide it up.  Maybe Gena, Sasha,
Oleg, Peter and Victor will sleep in one room and I Ilya, Kirill, and Dima
– when he comes, will have the smaller room." This seemed agreeable to
all, especially as the rooms were adjacent.

"Go and unpack your things," Pasha told his boys. "I am not going to be
your servant.  Put all the baggage in the baggage room next to the drying
room here and let me see the room tidy in 15 minutes.  I am going to talk
to my friends for some time."

When Pasha entered the other rooms he found his friends opening little
packets.

"Here is yours, Pasha," Gleb said, as he gave him a small packet.  "They
are all little icons, so we can set them up on that table with some
candles," Gleb continued.

All his friends were used to Gleb's icons by now, except for Oleg, who was
a new boy.  But even he was touched by the thought and admitted they were
very beautiful presents.

"I see you mean to keep us very holy, Gleb," Kirill said.  "What did I say,
guys but Gleb would come back in a very holy mood."

"So, you can take these to your computers at home and put them near, and if
you look at anything you wouldn't want the icon to see, you know it is
wrong to look," Gleb continued.  "If you can't control yourself, you can
turn the icon to the wall," he added with his winning smile.

"Is this what you have been learning in your church camp, Gleb?"  Pasha
asked.

"Oh yes, and it works very well," he replied, going out to take his
presents to the little boys in the other room.

"Fucking hell, he's not going to stop us having fun is he?" Oleg asked
after Gleb had gone out.

"Don't worry, mate!"  Kirill replied.  "Fucking puberty, he's the worst of
us all really when he gets going, and you should see his knob, it's bigger
than yours, Oleg!"

The others all agreed that Gleb was really the greatest guy around, and
remembered their plan to get him with a girl in the camp.

Pasha then went back to inspect his boys' room and found it in fair
condition, but thought he should find some fault, as it is not the Russian
way to give small children praise lightly.

"Well, not bad, but the beds are creased and that bag must go to the
baggage room," he commanded.  "I close my eyes for one minute an then I
will open to find you standing by your beds and all correct."

Pasha closed his eyes and heard scurrying in the room; and when he opened
them he was please to see all correct and the boys to attention.

"Pashka, you are worse than my teacher," Yarik joked.

"Of course, because I am your Captain and you my Kadets," Pasha replied.
"Come, boys; let's go to breakfast; I hear the bell in the Parade Ground."
Misha, the Sports teacher, who was in overall charge of the group was
waiting for the boys somewhat annoyed.

"You forgot to appoint someone to lay our tables in the canteen," he
reprimanded.  "Who will go?"

Kirill said he would go and take one of the small boys to help, so he and
Roma ran off to do the tasks.  By the time the others had walked down
slowly through the parade square and games' areas to the canteen, the tales
were almost ready set with typical camp food of porridge, bread, cheese and
butter and cocoa.

"Now boys, if you don't eat your kasha, you will never be strong.  Our
Soviet Army marched on meat and kasha and won the Great Patriotic War like
that," he added.  "Guys, who poured this cocoa into the mugs?" he
continued.  "Was it you, Roman?"

"Yes, Pasha, I tried not to spill it from the kettle," the little boy
replied, his face falling.

"Well, for you, it is not bad.  If it had been Kirill, I would have killed
him because he poured some in my porridge," he joked.  "Eat properly,
George [Gosha] and don't lean into the plate like a village person with no
manners."

The others were watching this with amusement from the next table, and
Kirill and Gleb with pride, because they both loved Pasha very much.  If
Gleb had not been such a nice boy, Kirill would have felt pangs of
jealousy, but he never felt one and was content to share his friend with
both Gleb and James! And Pasha, how does he feel?  All will be revealed
here when James arrives at the camp and there is deep conversation between
Kirill, Gleb, Pasha and James!  But for now, the boys finished their
breakfast and cleared the tables.  There was shortly to be a training
session for their voices, taken by Dimitry.  As Pasha was wasn't involved,
he would have some free time and plan some activates for the boys in the
afternoon.

Misha had asked him to visit the camp of the Kadet Corpus and another camp
which were using the place to study nature and science.  The Kadets were
living in the same building but on another floor, but the artistic camp was
in the next building.  The leaders were very interested to hear about the
choir boys and immediately invited them to perform at their evening show
that night.

"Yes, of course; I am sure we can bring some solos and a chorus or two.  It
will be great!" Pasha agreed.

Pasha then went over to the Kadet boys, two of whom he saw smoking on the
edge of the forest, and he soon realised that they were not very cultured,
but he knew how to talk to them in their own language, and soon struck up a
form of working.  They agreed on a football game that afternoon, and Pasha
thought this a useful start.

"We have got just eight boys of your ages: I don't want the little ones
playing," he said.

"We've got some little cunts too," Vova, one of the boys, aged about 14
replied, rudely spitting on the ground; and he pointed out six small, young
looking guys in the distance.

"Okay, agreed: they can play our younger boys, maybe tomorrow," Pasha
stated, looking closely at Vova who was a well-built boy in military
uniform with strong hips and the beginnings of a lowering voice, which
cracked sometimes when he spoke.

"You got any girls in your camp?" Vova asked, now in soprano tones!

"No, you wanker, it's a boys' choir; and we don't want slags from the
village, if you are offering them."

"Shut the fuck up and listen, you cunt," he said, walking Pasha into the
forest with another boy, Peter, whom Pasha immediately felt a stirring for
and noticed he was looking at the bulge in his shorts.

"You visited the artistic camp and they have some girls there.  Can you get
us invited to meet them?" he asked, offering Pasha a cigarette.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow, maybe," Pasha replied, looking at the cute
Peter, who still had a light if rather common voice. He was wearing just
green nylon shorts and sports' shoes, and Pasha could see he wasn't wearing
pants under his shorts, for his balls were hanging very loosely in the
wide-legged shorts.  "How do you know they would want that knob of yours up
their cunts, or even pressing against them," he directed at Peter.

The three boys laughed, and the ice seemed broken.  Peter spat on the floor
and touched his penis which seemed to have swelled slightly in the
material.

"Till this afternoon at 3 o'clock on the football ground," Pasha agreed,
walking off, briefly touching his balls, satisfied with his meeting.

He decided to have a walk down to the river to check out where the guys
could go swimming later. As he took the quiet path he heard someone behind
him and, turning saw Peter, still bare-chested.  He stopped and the cute
boy caught up with him.  Pasha could see the boy was nervous but puberty
and mischief was written all over his face.  The boy had deep brown hair
but a smooth skin which had been tanned by the sun.  He wasn't tall –
about the stature of rather short Pasha - but his chest was strong but
smooth and his nipples a little puffy.

"Hey, you cunt: want to see our boat down by the river?"  he asked
nervously, his hands in his pockets, making his low hanging equipment more
prominent

"Okay, why not.  Let's go," he replied, pulling up his shorts slightly.
Peter led the way down to the river, his arse well filling out the thin
green shorts.  The little ship was quite a large boat with an engine and a
cabin used by the Kadets for some training.  As they climbed aboard, up the
ladder, Pasha made as if to slip and Pasha, who was right behind Peter,
caught on to his bottom firmly.  As soon as he felt the smooth buttocks, he
began to rub gently, both staying motionless on the ladder. After a few
moments, Peter continued up to the deck, and waited for Pasha to follow.

"Fucking deserted mate!" he said, as they entered the little cabin and
looked out of the window.  Suddenly, Pasha felt a pressure on his buttocks
and then a hand reached round and touched his balls.

"Fucking bastard cunt: what a wanker?" Pasha said roughly, pressing back
into Peter's erection as the boy started opening his shorts.

Pasha turned: "You got pubes, Mate?"  he asked, pulling the boy roughly to
him and gripping his buttocks.  As if by answer, the boy pulled down his
green shorts revealing is milk-white pubic area which had been protected
from the sun by swimming trunks.  His balls were impressive but hairless
and his fat penis, now swelling strongly and rising as Pasha watched was
nesting in a thick but small patch of curly pubic hair.

"Fucking puberty, Mate!  Pasha responded as he let Peter take down his own
trunks revealing his impressive balls and thick bush.  The two boys gripped
each other tightly, their penises locked together and their hands groping
each other's buttocks.  Next Pasha found himself on the floor, the boy on
top of him.  By some movements, Peter was on top of him.  Then Pasha spread
his legs apart and brought the boy up to his arse.

"I knew you would want this, you bastard!" Peter said, still in his
un-hardened voice, roughly pushing his penis (skin now right back and
exposing the knob) into Pasha's arse.

"Go on, you bastard, fuck me hard," Pasha responded, making his position as
easy as possible for Peter, who was no sliding his member into the desired
place!

"Have you ever had that up a girl's cunt?" Pasha asked.

"Yes, but this is better," the boy replied, thrusting hard.  "Any more guys
who will do this in your camp."

"Just one," Pasha replied, thinking of Kirill.

"No-one in our corpus," Peter replied, getting nearer to an orgasm.  "O
course, they will all fucking wank and play around, but not this.!!

Pasha pulled the boy towards him and started kissing him in a deep way.
Soon there was an orgasmic explosion on both sides and a lot of mess, and
then a total collapse, because they were both expired.  For some moments
the two fifteen-year-olds lay in each other's arms and almost slept.

 "Love your tash, Mate!" Peter said, rubbing his fingers over it whilst
lying in Pasha's arms.

"So, we had better go.  I must look after my little ones," Pasha said,
getting up and arranging his clothing. Peter also stood up and put on his
shorts, looking untidy.

"Okay, let's go!"  he said.  "And you'll help us get some girls for my
friend, won't you!"

I hope you liked this chapter.  It's good to get feedback.

--

Ivan Ivanocich