Date: Wed, 5 Apr 2017 22:48:40 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown <badboi666@btinternet.com> Subject: Fourteen again Chapter 16 Fourteen again by badboi666 =============================================================================== This story is - guess what! - fantasy. If sex with boys isn't your thing, go away. If, as is much more likely, you've come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about sex with a 14-year-old then make yourself comfortable - you're in the right place. Remember the three things: 1 Cum (you may wish to do this more than once) 2 Wipe carefully 3 Donate to Nifty =============================================================================== Chapter 16 We lay asleep like that, still sticky with sweat, spit and cum. At about 2 o'clock I woke, needing a piss. I got up and went out to the garden to do it, as flushing the bog might have woken Zak and Peter. I enjoyed a monster piss in the long grass, waving my soft cock around and spraying it everywhere. When I went back in I found that Zak had turned over and was now being cuddled in Peter's arms. I smiled at the sight of them. The old me couldn't help feeling a glow of pleasure at the sight of two males entwined, one at the very doorstep of his full sexuality, the other an adult who has taken that path and who would, if luck held, be the man in Zak's life. I wished that I had had such an experience, but I reflected that my life hadn't been too bad, even though I had had to wait until I was 70 to have any sort of sexual experience with a 12-year-old. Better late than never. Thank you, fairy. I got back to bed and spooned Zak. As he sensed me cuddle him from behind he reached his arm over and pulled me closer into him. A sleepy "Mmm" came from his lips, parted slightly with the tip of his tongue showing. I was glad I would be leaving this morning. Love can be a killer if you let it. At around 8 o'clock Zak began to stir, and gradually the three of us woke. The pleasures of the night before were a memory - a vivid one, and one which each of us would always remember, but a memory nevertheless. Today was today, and today would be a day of parting. Zak and I got out of bed first and went to the shower. It was hard not to be sexual with Zak, and I knew that he would have been enthusiastic about a mutual wank. My main aim was to leave him as unhurt by my going away as possible, and to let him believe that Peter would be his main support. It was Woody to whom he had professed love, and Woody was disappearing. We each washed, touching only occasionally. When we went back to the bedroom Peter was up and dressed, and a quick breakfast was on the table in the kitchen. Zak finished his, remaining very quiet. "I really ought to go," he said, "I told my mum I'd be back by half past eight." I hugged him and whispered goodbye. There were tears in his eyes - mine too, come to that. "Let Peter look after you," I murmured. I kissed him on the lips, and the tears now flowed freely down his cheeks. Peter took over. "Cheer up, Zak," he said, "you know where I live. You will always - always - be welcome here. Sex is nice, but you shouldn't feel it's the most important thing. If you need to talk, or want a cuddle, or just want somewhere to be sad, then this house is always here for you. OK?" Zak nodded. "Come on then, dry your eyes and off you go. No point in annoying your mum by being late." Zak gave us each a quick cuddle and cycled off. He and I would never see each other again. Peter and I looked at each other. "My God!" he said, "that kid really fell for you, didn't he. What did you do?" "Nothing," I said, "he just responded well to kindness and caring. Obviously sex helped, but we both know that sex doesn't have to have love behind it to be great. When there is love it's just so much better, but you can't expect a 12-year-old to know that." "Or a 14-year-old either," smiled Peter, "you are wise beyond your years, Peter." I must be more careful, I thought, don't want him thinking I could be his grandfather. "Yes, well," I mumbled in good teenager-speak. "I notice you didn't shower this morning. Is that because you didn't want to interrupt us - nothing happened, by the way - or because you're planning a steamy session with me before I bugger off out of your life as well? I do hope so!" "Come on then, you randy little bugger, get 'em off!" And so I did. Peter's smell this morning was raunchy - the dried sweat and cum acted on my nose and sent urgent messages to my cock. I was all lovely and clean, of course, so it was only reasonable for Peter to get his nose into the immediate area of my arsehole. One thing led to another and in a few minutes I was being treated to the same tongue music as Peter had played on Zak's arse last night. And very exciting it was - tongue well up in me, fingers to follow (three, I think). "Oh God!, I moaned, "give me your cock, Peter, I need a proper man-fuck. Make it deep and hard." Peter obliged. His cock speared my tender arse and his thrusting sent me heavenwards. He managed to prolong it for four or five minutes, every one of them crammed with 60 seconds of pure nerve-shattering sensation. My ankles were locked behind his head, my arse was on fire with lust, my cock was awash with pre-cum, my hands were all over his body, his hair, his face. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," I begged. And at last his cock swelled up and fired shot after shot of his spunk up into me. "Aaaah!" I sighed, happy for him that his orgasm had been so powerful. An idea struck me. "Keep it in there, can you?" He nodded, sweat pouring off him. "There's a waterproof sheet on the bed, so why don't you turn that super fuck into a super pissfuck? Go on, fill me up with piss as well." I knew he hadn't pissed this morning, so if he was willing (and I would soon find out) then there would be a lot of piss coming my way. "You boys are really into piss, aren't you," he said, "but it's not something I've ever tried." I found this odd - I thought all boys were into piss at some stage - but instead I said, "You'll never find out if you don't try, and you'll never have a more willing arse to piss in that the one you're in right now. Go on, give me a drenching. Fuck the mess, it'll be worth it." His cock was still deep inside me and if he delayed too much longer I was afraid it would slip out. I held my breath and tightened my arse muscle in the hope that it might squeeze his cock enough to get his going. "Oh, fuck it," he said, "why not. Are you sure about this?" The gleam in my eye and the wide grin on my face reassured him. "I might join you," I said mischievously. A moment later I felt his cock lurch as it started to pour piss into me. His bladder was full and it just kept on gushing. My rectum swelled up, putting pressure on bits of me that being fucked, even by a big cock, hadn't done. I suppose it was because a cock pushes in whereas an arse being filled with piss pushes outwards. Whatever the cause was, the sensation was wild! Even while the piss was streaming out his cock hardened. "Go on, fuck me again," I cried, my desire to be used in this way overcoming any thought about the mess that we would surely make. He started to fuck, his cock still pouring piss into me. As he withdrew slightly and plunged in again the pressure of the built-up piss in me was too great, and some of his piss was squirted out of my arse, coating his cock and balls. This turned him on greatly (as I hoped it would) and he redoubled the energy of his fucking. Soon his bladder emptied, but my arse was still full of his hot piss, constantly being pistoned deeper into me, then squirting out. The sensation was extremely erotic for me. It was erotic for him too, because all too soon he groaned, plunging deeply into me, and emptied his balls for the second time. He fell exhausted onto me. I'm lying on my back. Peter's cock is still (just) in me. The bed is covered in piss. Peter is covered in piss. I need to piss. Why should I hold back! I pissed into the space between us. Peter could feel the hot liquid forcing its way out of my cock into the wet mess that lay between our bellies. Bliss! After I'd finished pissing I said, "I need to cum. How d'you want it?" "Oh, bugger it," he said, "we're so filthy already I might as well do it properly," and he lowered himself onto my cock and started to suck me off. "No, no," I said, "69." So he swapped ends and while I gently suckled his spent cock he gave me a stupendous orgasm with his tongue and lips. Slowly building up, edging me, slowly building up again, edging me again ... "oh God, get me there" ... slow and, for the first time, as deep a throating as my 14-year-old cock could reach. I spewed my spunk into his throat. He swallowed. He collapsed onto me, wet and stinking. We were both happy. After a while cold reality began to dawn, and we went for a shower. Like the shower I had had earlier with Zak it wasn't sexual, but we washed each other fondly. I knew Peter had to be back on the road today, and I asked him when he would have to leave. Around midday, he said. Would he give me a lift to Plymouth? Of course. And that was where we parted. He dropped me at the station and drove out of my life. I would never know whether he and Zak had a relationship, although I could hope. I was very fond of both of them. =============================================================================== <End of Chapter 16> Just a short one this time. Keep the ideas coming (as well as yourselves). badboi666 "at" btinternet "dot" com Make sure you drop something Nifty's way at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html