Date: Sat, 8 Apr 2017 08:08:01 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown <badboi666@btinternet.com> Subject: Fourteen again Chapter 18 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 18 The six albums were divided into subjects. Four of them contained the kind of picture I'd seen Tom taking at Exeter station today - boys, usually skimpily clothed so probably taken in summer, usually aged between about 8 and 15. None of the boys seemed to be aware he was being photographed (unlike me). There were close-up faces, always grinning or looking cheeky. There were close-ups of bottoms, always in tight trousers. There were group pictures of boys horsing about - just being boys. Nice to took at, nice to perv over for Tom, perhaps, but nothing special as far as I was concerned. The other two were much more explicit. Here were naked men clearly aware they were being photographed. I recognised the chaise longue in many of them. In one of the albums the poses were what we called "artistic" in those days - body-builder stuff with lots of muscles. The only difference between these pictures and the real body-builder stuff was that these guys had got rid of their posing pouches, and all the goods were on show. And pretty hot stuff the goods were! Tom's taste in men was clearly very precisely limited. Nothing under about 20, nothing over about 25, all were tall and slim, some hairy, some smooth, some cut, some uncut, all with above-average sized cocks. Maybe he didn't bother developing the snaps of guys with little cocks or fat bellies. The sixth album was explicit. Most of the pictures were of one of the posing guys having a wank, complete with close-ups of glistening cum trails and pools of cum on bellies. A few at the end were of two guys doing all sorts of things to each other - sucking (a really nice close-up from underneath of balls and a cock half into a nice smooth arse. Tom was clearly an artist, and I wondered whether he sold this stuff to a publisher in Amsterdam or somewhere. It would certainly have fetched a high price in those days. My plan took definite shape, and it concerned Album Number Seven. Eventually Tom returned from the dark room with today's pictures. I was startled by the ones he had taken of me at the station. I was aware of his taking several - 8 or 10 maybe - but he showed me 23. "I won't keep all of these," he said, "but 16 or 17 are really good. I assume you were posing?" "Of course," I replied, "I had you sussed right away. I was out hunting for meat just as much as you were. Don't forget the engine numbers." "Does that work?" he asked. "Yes," I said, and told him about - all about - my escapade with Jack at Kings Cross. At that moment I suddenly remembered that I'd promised to phone Jack a couple of days after our encounter, and that had been a week ago exactly. He had told me that his birthday was in 10 days - that would be 11 August, only three days away. Damn! "Tom," I said, I have an idea I want to tell you about, but can I use your phone first please? I have to get in touch with a friend in London and I completely forgot I'd promised to ring him. Please?" "OK," he said, "but don't be too long - that bed looks inviting and I want to show you the pictures we took here." He pointed to the phone in the hall. I dug out the notebook with the Kings Cross engine numbers, and underneath there was Jack's number. I hoped he would be in ... he was! "Hello, Peter," he said, "you didn't ring so I thought you'd forgotten." "No way, Jack," I lied, "but I've been in Cornwall for a few days. Can I still come to your party?" "Course you can," he said, his voice a great deal brighter. "I'll tell my mum. Would you be able to sleep over after?" "Sure thing. amigo," I said, pleased at the possibilities that such an invitation opened up. "Can I ring you back and tell you it's OK with my mum?" "Yes," I said, "but I'm at a friend's house at the moment. Can you ring in about 2 hours - I'll still be here then." "OK." And that was that. I had nearly made a big mistake! "What was that all about?" asked Tom when I joined him in the bed. I explained about Jack's birthday and that he's invited me to a sleepover. "Lucky you!" said Tom. "Why do you say that?" I asked, "I'd have thought that you could have boys here any time you wanted." "It doesn't work like that, Peter," he said, "how do I get boys here for the night?" The same way you got me, I thought, by waiting to be seduced by one. However I didn't think Tom would like to have that pointed out to him. "Well," I said, "I have an idea. I can use my engine numbers list to find a boy who's keen for me to suck his cock. I can then talk to him and find out whether he'd like to make a few bob being photographed. If I find one who's willing we're in; if not I try another. I don't mind sucking a few cocks along the way. The question is - are you willing to take photographs and, if we play our cards right, fuck a boy or two?" Tom was flabbergasted by my suggestion, but I could tell (his cock rather gave the game away) that he would get round to agreeing. It was now almost 5 o'clock, and the train-spotters would still be there. Would it be better to try now, or to wait until tomorrow? I did a quick calculation. If we left right now it would be 5.30 before we got to the station, and it might take a while to catch the right boy - say 7 till we got back here. Nothing like enough time before the boy would be expected back home. Tomorrow it would be. Good, that meant I would be sleeping - and doing a load of other things - here. I decided to help Tom towards a decision. "If you take me to Exeter for about 10 tomorrow morning I think there's a very good chance that there could be three of us in your studio by midday. If you got him back at the station in time for him to go home for his tea that would give us four hours. There's a lot of pictures you could take in four hours, and you haven't got any of naked boys, never mind boys sucking and fucking each other." Tom's cock had made up its mind, and all that remained was to get Tom on board as well. I scooted down under the bedclothes and said to his cock "You want all this, don't you? Why not tell Tom what you feel about it?" Tom laughed. "OK, if you think it'll work. We'll need to be bloody careful though." "Trust me," I said, "I'm good at this. You'll see. What type do you like ... no, better still, tell me when we get there. We won't stand near each other, but we'll find some way that you can indicate which one you fancy. He might not play, but if he doesn't I'll be the only one he knows about. With any luck he'll run off, leaving me to seduce another one." "What I really like is a small, neat boy with a sense of mischief, although that's not always easy to discover. Age 12 or more, but not over 15. Your age, in fact - that's why I was photographing you." "Your every wish is my command, Master," I chuckled. "Can I sleep here with you?" "I wasn't expecting to kick you out, Peter. Sex with you is great, and I'm sure we can work out more ways of turning each other on." I had to agree, but first I needed to refuel. "Can we get something to eat soon, I'm dying of hunger here." Tom laughed, and said that there was a little place in the town which sold take-away Chinese food. This was common enough to me, but in 1957 such places were still unusual. "I think that's a great idea, Tom, I like Chinese, and it's better if you're not seen with a strange kid. Don't want more shit, after all." An hour and a half later we were back in bed, the empty food cartons on the floor beside us. We were both feeling relaxed. "I need something to drink after all that," I said, "how about a glass of wine?" "Wine!" exploded Tom, "you're far too young for wine." "Tom," I said patiently, "I'm far too young to be fucked too, but that didn't seem to stop you. Wine, please," and I stared at him. "With so much excitement tomorrow you surely won't deny me that." I got my glass of wine (and a second one too). Tom offered me a cigarette, but I said 'no' on the grounds that I was too young. I hate the smell anyway, and I gave up over 40 years ago. He smoked, I drank my wine (he had a glass too), and it was all very sophisticated - just like a newly-married couple in bed after an afternoon fuck. When his fag was finished I put my empty glass down beside the bed and announced that I had work to do. Tom was disappointed, but as soon as he worked out that my 'work' was snuggling down the bed and getting into a 69 position he relaxed. I suckled his cock and he gave attention to mine, although it wasn't really in reach of his mouth. Coming up briefly for air I said, "forget my cock, my arse is in easy reach, and would welcome your attention." So we pretty much repeated what we had done that afternoon, only this time in bed, and far more gently and slowly. No play-acting, just tenderly giving and receiving pleasure. When my arse was well and truly sopping (spit, lube and a great deal of Peter arse-juice) it was invaded by fingers, again three, which twirled round and round my prostate. I asked him afterwards exactly what he had been doing (I might want to try it some day, after all) and he told me that his middle finger just went into me as far as it would go, while the second and fourth fingers crossed below it and rubbed either side of my prostate. I made a mental note to try this up the next arse my fingers were lucky enough to visit - Jack's, almost certainly. This time I decided that I was going - coming - first, so I didn't do much with Tom's cock apart from keeping it in my mouth - keeping it warm for later, if you like. His fingers were working me up nicely and I wondered what he would do next. I'd made it pretty clear that three was the limit. Would he fuck me again? I didn't have long to wait. He took hold of my hips and, holding me steady, raised my hips so that my upper body was vertical but upside down, and my legs were standing by his pillow. My head was still at his cock, my feet were on the bed and my arse was sticking up in the air for all to see. It was wide open too, and I could feel his breath as he put his lips over my hole and gently breathed out. This was a completely new sensation, and given the liveliness of the nerves which had been stimulated by his fingering, a highly sensuous one. But it was nothing to the sensation when I felt something warm trickling into me. What the hell could it be? It wasn't piss, or if it was it wasn't coming fresh from his cock. And as far as I knew he hadn't pissed for ages. "Enjoy your wine?" he asked. So that was it! An arseful of red wine! "Keep it in, Peter, and let your body absorb it slowly. I'll hold you, don't worry." Peculiar, I thought, but what the hell. To my surprise I could feel, or at least I managed to persuade myself that I could feel, a warm sensation deep inside me. I suppose it was the alcohol being absorbed by moist membranes - whatever it was it was certainly a bloody good feeling, and it made me even hornier. After the wine had been in me for about five minutes Tom swiftly put a greased butt plug in and lowered me so that I was lying beside him again. "That stays in for half an hour, then I take you to the bathroom and hold you over the toilet, and it comes out and I finger you all over again, then when you're begging in desperation for release I'm going to fuck you rigid." "Yes, please," I said, my eyes unable to disguise the delight before me. And so it was. By the time the butt plug and the remains of the wine came out I had drunk two glasses of wine, and otherwise absorbed most of a third, and was pretty pissed and giggly (a happy and wholly desirable state, especially when you're 14 again). The fingering was very slow and very deep and very very erotic and, as Tom had predicted, I was begging him to make me cum for a good 15 minutes while he worked me up more and more. The bed was very sloppy with traces of wine, gallons of pre-cum and assorted other bodily fluids (mainly sweat at this stage) and - surely to God! - the end was near - pleeeease! Out came his fingers, he turned me onto my back (more spillage from my arse), my knees went beside my ears, in went his cock - fast, all the way in, intent on spearing me deep. He fucked me like that for three or four minutes before I started to scream that I was there, there, theeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere! My cock delivered itself of a bucketful of cum, this time the first shot reaching a world record of actually missing me altogether and hitting the head-board. I could have sworn I heard the splat! as it landed. Moments later a ribbon of spunk lay along me from nose to navel. Tom whipped his cock out - how he had managed to hold himself back God only knows - and wanked himself hard while I stroked his hair. His torrential delivery came about 30 seconds after he started and covered a large part of my chest. There must have been a cupful - well, a small cupful anyway. As befits a man who has cum all over a cummy 14-year-old he collapsed onto me, our cum slithering and squelching between us. "Fuck, that was good!" I said, "thank you, Tom." "It was good for me too, kid," he said. Half an hour later we got up and shared a companionable, and non-sexual bath while the washing machine dealt with the bedclothes. After the bath we shared a companionable cup of cocoa (boys like their creature comforts almost as much as being fucked). After the cocoa, bed. And sleep. It had been a long day, ad tomorrow looked like being just as much fun. Was it only this morning I had said farewell to Zak! =============================================================================== <End of Chapter 18> badboii666 "at" btinternet "dot" com is where the depraved suggestions of readers will be gladly received, and maybe even incorporated. Make sure you drop something Nifty's way at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html