Date: Sun, 12 Mar 2017 16:12:20 +0000 (UTC)
From: Peter Brown <badboi666@btinternet.com>
Subject: Fourteen again Chapter 2

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 - these buggers may do it for love but they still
have to eat.

===============================================================================
Chapter 2

When the bloke had gone I stayed for a while in the filthy bog.  Throughout
my life I had enjoyed reading the graffiti in these places.  The drawings
hadn't changed much in 56 years, but the "let's meet" stuff was completely
different.  Whereas in 2017 it was all mobile phone numbers back in 1957
all that could be scribbled was a time and place, often - usefully - with
some details of what the writer wanted, or was offering.  As I was still
only 14 my cock stiffened again quickly after my cum of a few minutes
earlier, and I slowly stroke it while I read.  Knowing what I knew now I
was able to sort out the more likely assignations.  I was here because I
wanted sex with other boys, not with older men (although I wasn't going to
turn down anyone who was interested in me and my teenage cock).  I read the
messages.

"Dirty old man wants to suck you off."  But no details of where or when - a
long time ago from the look of the writing.  Probably he was only in here
for a wank and a read - a bit like me.

"I'm 15 and I need to be fucked."  More interesting, although 15 was a
little older than I was after.  Still, you can't be too choosy when you're
only here (and 14) for a month.  But again, no details.  Bugger, I thought,
and read on.  There were more on the same lines, some with crude pictures
of cocks and balls - the usual toilet art.  At last, low down on the door,
was what I was looking for.  In small, recent-looking writing, was this.

"13 and horny.  Want older boy to play with.  Will be here 2nd August 10
o'clock."  Tomorrow morning!  I wondered what he would be like.  It was
pretty clear what was meant by "play" as he wouldn't have put "horny" if
all he was after was cops and robbers.  I decided I would be his playmate.
But it was still only early afternoon on 1st August and I wasn't planning
to waste any time.

In those days Platform 10 at Kings Cross (it's Platform 8 now) had no
barrier, so it was where the boys gathered for trainspotting.  No platform
ticket was needed - free entertainment!  There was a Gents down a flight of
stairs on the platform with a Gents barber as well as a long pissing trough
and cubicles.  I got a bus from Victoria to Kings Cross to see what I could
pick up.  In the Smith's I bought a notebook and a biro and quickly wrote
down some numbers in my book.  It had been over 50 years since I had last
done this, but my memory for the engines which were seen at Kings Cross was
still pretty accurate.  This is what I wrote down.

69545 69567 60140 I like 61027 60027 69551 sucking 60057 60013 cocks 61632
60127 interested?  69588

I went to the far end of Platform 10 and looked around me.  There were
about 20 boys there, ranging from about 7 - far too young - to about 16 or
17 - far too old - and a few men.  There were 6 boys of about the right age
for my tastes, and I scrutinized them carefully.  Two were fat, two were
scruffy-looking, and two seemed perfect.  One was about 13 or 14, slim,
wearing shorts, with blond hair and blue eyes - jail-bait in every way.
The other was a bit younger - 12 or 13 maybe - with longer red hair. I have
always been turned on by gingers and so I decided that this one was the
target for today.  I waited, watching.  He seemed to be on his own as he
made no contact with any of the men (good!  I didn't want father getting
anxious) or other boys.  Some of them were part of a gang, and I didn't
want a multiple session - not yet, anyway.

I stood next to Him.  We both wrote down numbers as trains came into the
station.  An unusual one appeared from York and we both said that it was a
"cop" (one we had not seen before, for those whose boyhood hobbies didn't
include trainspotting).  We smiled at each other, pleased at this piece of
luck.  His smile practically made me wet myself - he was beautiful.  Would
his cock be as delightful?  Only one way to find out.  I showed him my list
of numbers.

"These are what I've seen today."

He read quickly and gave a gasp as he did so.  His eyes widened.  He looked
at me with a stare.

"Are you kidding?" he said.

"No.  Everything there is true.  I've copped all those numbers.  Have I
copped you too?"

He grinned and nodded.

We walked back down Platform 10 and it dawned on me that I had no plan at
all about where I would suck his cock.  I asked him what made him agree so
quickly.  "Don't know really.  You look nice and I've never had my cock
sucked.  I like wanking so it seemed a good idea.  You done this often?"

If only he knew, I thought.  An idea came to me - one that would guarantee
us an hour or more completely alone and undisturbed.  It would cost a fiver
and probably get me a bollocking, but neither of those worried me.  And we
could be there in only a few minutes.  We went over to the suburban part of
the station and saw that a local train was due to leave in a few minutes.
In those days the local trains on that line didn't have corridors - each
compartment of 10 or 12 seats had a door at each side and that was it.
Once you were in you couldn't get out and, better still, no-one else could
get in.  I led him to a compartment near the middle, making sure that there
wasn't anyone in any of the compartments nearby.  Didn't want anyone
overhearing, or coming to help.

"In you get," I said, "my name's Peter, what's yours?"

"Jack.  What are we going to do?"

"You'll see in a minute.  Once the train starts we'll get down to it.  When
did you last wank, and can you shoot spunk yet?"

Jack told me that he was an enthusiastic wanker, sometimes doing it 4 or 5
times a day.  As it was early afternoon he hadn't cummed yet today, but had
in bed last night.  He told me he was nearly 14 (his birthday was in a
couple of weeks) and that he had his first "proper squirt", as he put it,
about 5 months earlier.  He told me proudly that the day he had wanked 5
times he had made cum on the first four.  This sounded very promising.  I
leant out of the window - you could in those days - to make sure that
no-one else was getting on near our compartment, and a few moments later we
started.

Just outside Kings Cross there are two tunnels.  I calculated that if we
could get the train to stop in the second one we would be undisturbed for
as long as it took to get the train out again.  If I pulled the
communication cord as we entered the tunnel ("Penalty for Improper Use
£5") the train would be completely inside when it stopped, The guard
would not be able to see the little red flag indicating where the cord had
been pulled, nor would he or the driver be able to reach us. The train
would have to reverse out again, and getting permission to do that would
take ages.  We had an hour maybe - long enough for a long session with
Jack's cock.

Once we were in the first tunnel I reached over to Jack and put my hand up
his shorts leg.  His cock was soft, but hardened immediately my hand made
contact.

"Let's get our clothes off," I whispered, "don't worry, no-one's going to
see.  Trust me."

Jack's eyes widened, but his brain was, like mine, in thrall to his
genitals and he didn't stop to argue.  By the time the engine whistled on
the approach to Copenhagen Tunnel we were both naked, our cocks rampant.  I
reached up and pulled the cord.  Immediately the brakes came on and, as I
had planned, the whole train came to a screeching halt still inside the
tunnel.

"Did you plan that?" asked Jack in wonder.

"Of course," I said, "it's the best way to get an hour to suck cock that I
know.  And I've got enough to pay the fine too, so don't worry.  I'll take
the blame when they let us out and say it was a dare.  Now let's get on
with it."

I knelt on the floor and looked at his cock.  It was uncut, but his loose
foreskin was partially peeled back, showing his reddened glans and
piss-slit, already with a clear drop of precious pre-cum.  He had a few
ginger pubes - a turn-on for me.  I licked the drop of pre-cum and he
shivered.  Slowly I opened my mouth and tongued his waiting cock.  Up and
down its underside, licking the piss-slit each time.  After a couple of
minutes I took the whole of his 5 inches into my mouth and at the same time
began to feel his balls - nice and well-developed in their velvet sac.
Jack was moaning oh god! all the time.

"Enjoying it?" I asked.

"Christ, yes," he muttered, "this is the best feeling ever.  I wish it
could last for ever."

I thought to myself that it could be made to last a damn sight longer than
he imagined.  I would get his first cum down my throat pretty quickly, then
he could be edged for the second for a good 20 minutes or more.  Amazing
what 70-year-olds know, I thought gratefully.

I took his cock out of my mouth ("oh") and gently put my lips round his
balls ("oh" again, more intensely this time).  I rolled them in my mouth
("aah!") and taking his bum cheeks in my hands carefully separated them.
His body writhed, suggesting that arse play would be welcome later, but his
urgent desire was to shoot his cum as soon as he could.  Sensing that he
was near I engulfed his beautiful cock again and took it into my mouth as
far as it would go, all the time still playing with his cheeks.

"Oh!" he moaned, "I'm about to cum - it'll go in your mouth."

Needless to say I wasn't about to withdraw and after a few more seconds he
gave a groan and his cock spurted the first of his loads into my mouth.  I
had waited all my life for this - well over 60 years - and it was pure joy.
My own cock gave a lurch as his second and third volleys filled my mouth.
I swallowed, making his cock convulse again, and slowly let it out of my
mouth.  Gently I licked the last drop of precious boy-spunk from the tip of
his cock, shrinking visibly.

"Fuck," he said, "that was the best cum ever.  Want me to do you now?  Can
I suck yours?"

A silly question, I thought, but all I did was lie down on the bench seat.
He climbed on and started to pay attention to my cock.  Two days ago, when
I was 70, it was about 7 inches erect and circumcised.  Unusually I wasn't
cut as an infant, and didn't have the operation until my twenties.  So at
14 I was uncut, with a loose foreskin; hard, as now, it came to about 5
inches - a perfect size for a 13-year-old's mouth, especially as I was (as
I discovered) his first.  I told him to be careful with his teeth, and he
took to it like a duck to water.  After a couple of minutes I pulled him up
to me and, grabbing him by both hips, bodily turned him round to a 69
position.  With my cock back in his mouth I took his in mine again, and it
stiffened quickly - all of 5 minutes since he had come.  Great things,
13-year-olds, I thought, blessing my little fairy friend.

"When I cum, " I said, where d'you want it?  D'you want to swallow or not?"

"I'd rather not swallow, but if you tell me just before you cum I can watch
it squirt onto your tummy, and that will be fun.  I like watching other
boys cum."  He hesitated.  "Um, I like licking it up after too.  I always
lick mine, so yours will be fun too, I expect."

I had quite by chance lit on one sexy little bugger, whose adventurousness
certainly exceeded mine when I really was that age 56 years ago.  Luckily
my inhibitions had disappeared decades ago.

"OK," I said, "I'm nearly there now."

He took his mouth off and quickly wanked me to a splendid climax.  The
first time I was 14 my spunk used to fly a long way and I was gratified to
see that (although it had not been as vigorous for many years) it still
went a good way now.  Jack was gently rolling my balls and his eyes opened
wide as my first volley shot up my chest almost to my chin.  Two more shots
followed, leaving a pearly trail from my Adam's Apple down to the wispy
beginning of my pubes.

"Fucking hell"" he said, "I've never seen anyone cum that hard."  And even
before the final drops appeared from my cock he was down on my belly,
licking greedily from my pubes up to my chest.

"Don't hog it all," I said, "leave some for me."  I was about to scoop some
up in my fingers when he beat me to it.  Bugger, I thought, but no - he
scooted up me and without warning planted a kiss on my lips.  Instinctively
my lips opened and this oh-so-innocent-looking not-quite-14-year-old
planted a spunky kiss onto my tongue.  You will not be surprised to learn
that the erotic nature of thus unexpected gesture led to my cock squirting
another good rope of cum, which coated his belly as well as mine.

We lay back exhausted.  We had each had one earth-shattering ejaculation
and had been in the train in the tunnel for just under 15 minutes.  We
still had at least half an hour by my reckoning.

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<End of Chapter 2>

Thanks to the guys who've already been on with ideas.  One suggested girls
- no, that won't happen as girls do nothing for me.  But some of his other
ideas appeal, and may well happen sometime.  There's a good chance of my
being gang-banged by some older men too - probably all young enough to be
my grandchildren, some of them.  I'm going to be here, being 14, for the
whole of August 1957.  I have lots of ideas about degrading, filthy,
exciting things I want to get up to.  But if you have things you would like
to read about while I do them, email me at badboi666 "at" btinternet "dot"
com and let me know.  Tell me your most depraved fantasies: I'm 70, after
all, and won't be shocked.  Even if I am only 14 to look at ... or touch
... or suck ... or fuck ... or piss on.