Date: Wed, 26 Apr 2017 22:49:14 +0000 (UTC)
From: Peter Brown <badboi666@btinternet.com>
Subject: Fourteen again Chapter 28
Fourteen again by badboi666
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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
2 Wipe
3 Donate
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Chapter 28
I was looking forward to being Barry's slave. We were lying side by side
on his bed. He had come twice while I was fisting him, and neither time
had his cock been touched. He had pissed in my mouth after he came the
second time, and I had managed to swallow almost all of it. Now he would
be the master. I wondered where his imagination would take us. Given that
he had just come it might be that he wasn't feeling sufficiently aroused to
be very adventurous; on the other hand being master was new territory for
him, having always wanted to be the slave. I was aware of two things: I
needed to get my rocks off (my cock was still stiff), and I would need a
piss fairly soon. While I had been happy (and that's an understatement) to
drink Barry's golden shower I had no idea how he would deal with mine when
I couldn't keep it in any longer. I doubted whether the towels would soak
it all up.
"Before we start," I said, "like you, I'm going to have to piss big time
quite soon. Shall I go to the bog and do it there, or shall we let it
happen when it happens?" He thought about it, and I could see him smile as
he decided. "No, keep it in, but tell me when you know you'll lose control
say in about two minutes. Say 'piss time'. OK?" We agreed, and I
wondered what it could be that required two minutes' warning. No doubt I
would find out quite soon.
"Right, slavey," he said, "I'm not going to tie you up, but you will do
exactly what you're told." "Yes, sir." He went to his desk and opened a
drawer. He came back to the bed with a long feather. "I will torture your
skin with this red hot needle," he announced, "and you will beg for mercy."
Keeping still while the instrument of torture was applied was going to be
difficult, and in his position I'd have tied me up, making my struggles
even more enjoyable for the master. Maybe it was the threat of pissing in
only two minutes that stopped him. I've always been ticklish, especially
on my sides between my arm-pits and my hip bone, and as he was using the
feather very lightly all over my body he found these vulnerable places
quite quickly. "Aha!" he cried, "slavey has a weak spot." Naturally that
was where he constantly returned after the feather had travelled to my
feet, or my knees, or my balls. They were sensitive too, but in a much
more enjoyable way that the tickling on my sides. All this time my cock
was as stiff as hell, but he never touched it with his feather.
After a few minutes of torture he lowered his lips onto my cock, and gently
pulled my foreskin back, exposing my hot glans to his warm breath.
"Slavey's cock is hot," he murmured, "slavey's balls must be full of boy
juices. Master needs to see these juices to make sure that Slavey's balls
are healthy. Master needs to taste these juices because sometimes
unhealthy boy juices look OK but are really not very good after all.
Master is in no hurry though, and Slavey must wait. Slavey's cock is hot,
and" - he bobbed his head - "makes tasty juices." Slavey was getting
pretty excited by this time. His engulfing my cock in his wet mouth made
me aware that my need to piss was now pretty urgent. Not as near as two
minutes, but not far off. I said nothing.
Barry put down the feather and turned to squat over my prone body. He was
facing my feet and he positioned his arse, still red with the punishment it
had received, right above my face. "Kiss my wounds, slavey." That was
hardly torture, but I felt I had to play along. "Oh, sir, must I? They
are so red and sore." "Kiss them, scum. Wash them with your tongue."
This was getting better and better, and I set to with a will. Sir started
moaning, although whether this was acting, or ecstasy, or just because my
licking was hurting I did not know (and could not ask). My bladder was
starting to issue urgent warnings, and his sitting on me wasn't helping.
Maybe another minute or so. "Sir, I will put ointment on your wounds quite
soon if you will allow me." Worth a try anyway; I needed to cum. "No,
slavey, my wounds, while painful, do not need ointment yet."
"Piss time," I said. "Right," he said, "forget the slavey stuff for the
moment. Come with me." He grabbed my hand and led me into the bathroom.
"Stand there, and don't you dare start pissing." He ran the hot tap into
the bath, filling it about half an inch deep. I had huge difficulty in not
pissing as the water gushing from the tap increased my urgency enormously.
"Oh, Christ, I can't hold it in much longer, Barry." "Only 30 seconds
now," he said, and climbed into the bath where he squatted down with his
arse in the air. "Stick your cock up my arse and when it's right in then
you can piss."
How could I resist? I climbed in behind him and put a finger in: he was
still awash inside from all the fisting, and I was able to put my cock
straight in. He sighed with pleasure. "Oh, Peter, that's so good. Now
fill me up."
I've never been all that good at pissing with an erection, but I was
patient (each of us was enjoying just having my cock where it was, so there
was no hurry) and after a minute or so the pressure was too great to
resist. A trickle flowed out of me deep into Barry's guts. "Oh, fuck,
that's hot," he said, "I've dreamed of having this happen." "It's called
piss-fucking," I said, "just so's you know." "Whatever it's called it's
fucking great. I can feel the piss gushing up into me and making my
insides hot." I kept on pissing. Suddenly the volume up him was too great
and a great burst of piss streamed out of his arse, soaking my belly and
running down my legs and his arse. This occasioned a big squeal of lusty
pleasure. "Jesus, this is good!" After what seemed like ten minutes, but
was probably less than two, my bladder was empty. "Shall I take it out, or
do you want me to fuck you?" I asked. "Fucking will be difficult, but I'll
try if you want." "No, I'm uncomfortable and if you fuck me good and hard
- which is what I want - it'll be too awkward. Let me get rid of all your
piss." I could have told him what would happen, but I decided not to: far
better for it to come as a surprise. "The bath is already full of piss, so
I'll just let it go here, and we can wash the bath out after," he said.
"Fine by me," I replied, and awaited the inevitable.
He gave a push and a gush of my piss squirted out of his arse. "Mmm! that
feels good," he murmured. Then another push - another gush of piss - then
another big push - and, as I expected, a whole load of shit as well as the
piss. "Oh God, I'm so sorry," he wailed, "did it go on you?" "No," I said
(I might have added 'alas', but time enough for that another time maybe.
He was clearly so deeply embarrassed by what had happened that I didn't
have the heart to say I'd rather expected it. "Never mind, Barry, that
often happens when you're piss-fucked," I reassured him, "it's often best
to make sure you don't need a shit beforehand. Remember that for next time
- if there is a next time?" "Too fucking right there'll be a next time,"
he declared, "apart from the shit that was terrific." "Good," I said,
"'cos it was good for me too. I love pissing up a lad's bum, and when the
lad's as sexy and cute as you are, well, it's just the tops." "Oh fuck off
and don't be so soft," he said, but I could tell he was pleased. "We need
to shower," he said, "and we need to clean the bath. What will I do with
the shit?" "The simplest thing is to pick it up and drop it in the bog," I
said. "Urgh!" "Why urgh? It's not as though you didn't know where it
came from. I've had tongue, fingers and cock up your arse and I'm not
bothered by a bit of shit," and I picked it up and threw it in the bog.
"There." "You're weird," he said. "Yes, hadn't you worked that out
already? Do most of your other friends fuck you and fist you and enjoy
pissing up your arse? No? So that makes me weird. It also makes me
highly desirable as a friend, or at least a fuck-buddy, wouldn't you say?"
"Oh shut up! Let's shower."
We showered together, each paying attention to the other's boy bits. He
had cum twice and I hadn't cum at all, so my need was still great, although
not at that stage urgent. It soon would be. I had to remember in the
urgency, when it finally came, that the cum was to be used as ointment for
Barry's tingling arse, and that would mean another shower of course. But
first we had to dry ourselves and get back to Barry's lair.
Once back on the bed I became Slavey again, a position I quite enjoyed,
certainly at Barry's hands. "Now, Slavey," he said," you are once more at
my mercy, and I'm going to fuck you. You will cry for mercy while your
tender insides are being speared by my throbbing weapon. Then, when I am
satisfied that you have been humiliated enough, I shall allow cock to
spend." He was doing pretty well, I thought, at this domination stuff.
"Oh, Sir, don't be too fierce, I beg you," I whimpered. Luckily he knew
how the game was played and he lubed me up nicely: one finger, two, three.
"You can fist me - oh, sorry, macaroni - if you like, Sir, but take care."
More lube was applied to his hand and my arse, and after a bit of pushing
(and me gritting my teeth) his fist popped in, and very nice it was. My
whole belly area felt invaded, but invaded in a way that felt really good.
My hole itself wasn't uncomfortable - I've had men up there, after all, but
a boy's fist presses on different places, probably because it's wide, than
even a big cock. I decided that width was more sensationally enjoyable
than length. Remembering what I had done to make him cum suddenly without
warning he didn't rotate his fist but moved it gently in and out. I was
very happy!
Suddenly - too soon! - he whipped his fist out and immediately plunged his
cock in. This didn't give me nearly as much sensual overload as his fist
had done, but I am a nice boy and a good guest, so I moaned "Aaaaah! that's
so good!" After all, if things went for him as seemed likely, he would
fuck a lot more guys that he would be allowed to fist. Cock confidence is
so important to the teenager. He thrust away, sweating and panting
mightily. I didn't think I was going to cum this way however. "Sir," I
said, "Slavey begs you to use your lips." Sir got the message; after two
copious cums he probably wasn't going to manage another by fucking me
before he got too tired to fuck properly. "Sod this Slavey stuff," he
said, "I want to make you cum," and he applied lips and tongue to this end.
That was more like it, especially when his hands went to work on my balls.
"Getting close," I said," let me clean your cock, 69 me." He switched
quickly. "Don't you cum in my mouth," he said, "I love it when you do, but
this cum is ointment, don't forget." "OK," I panted, and set to sucking my
arse juices from his cock, hot and hard and insistent in my mouth. I have
never understood why shit (and farts, come to that) smell unpleasant while
arse juices taste wonderful. But then, as he pointed out, I'm weird.
He was doing a very good job on my cock, but I wanted him to finish me by
hand. "Stop now, and wank me off," I muttered, nearing the magic moment.
Instantly he was beside me, his right hand grasping my cock and wanking it.
"Hard," I said. A few seconds later we were rewarded with a mighty
explosion of cum: I hadn't cum since I'd done so with Jack, and this one
had been built up in Barry's lair (and his arse, and his mouth) for quite a
while. When my spunk made it into the open it travelled a good foot in the
air ("fuck me," from Barry, "that's amazing!") before landing on me. I
swear you could hear the splat! it made. Before it landed the second great
squirt had left my cock slit and followed it into the air. Squirts three
and four followed, albeit less dramatically. When my cock had wept its
last there was a pool of cum about two inches across lying between my navel
and my cock. "There's your ointment for your poor arse, Barry," I said,
"will I apply it to you now?" He nodded, his eyes bright with lustful
desire. "Then kneel over my thighs and face away from me. Raise your poor
dear savaged arse so that I can soothe it. (It was a bit like Doctors and
Nurses at this point: a game I'm sure you've all played.) I scooped up two
handfuls of still-hot cum and spread them on his cheeks ("gosh!), rubbing
the sticky mess well in. "Oh, that's so hot!" he said, "but your tum's all
messy." Before I could react he has quickly turned round as was lapping up
the remains of my outpourings. "Oh fuck! that's so tasty," he murmured as
he swilled my spunk round his mouth. "Don't swallow,"' I said, "kiss me."
And we spunk-swapped, out tongues hungrily invading each other's mouth.
Satisfied at last that we had cleaned, and consumed, the last sperm we
headed back to the shower.
Before we washed I knelt in front of him and sucked him off. His third cum
was still well worth it! "Oh, Peter, this is so nice." "Wait till Jack
gets here next week," I said. He'll blow your socks off.
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<End of Chapter 28>
Keep your depraved ideas coming, guys. They're always welcome and, like a
bog wall, often make interesting reading. badboi666@btinternet.com
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