Date: Tue, 21 Mar 2017 12:27:00 +0000 (UTC)
From: Peter Brown <badboi666@btinternet.com>
Subject: Fourteen again Chapter 8

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 (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.

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Chapter 8

After a few minutes I asked Peter how far he was going.

"Well, kid, that depends.  I'm 90% sure I understand where you're going,
but I need to be certain.  All the signs you've given me are that you're
looking for more than just a free ride along the A30.  What are you really
looking for?"

Like him I was only 90% sure, but as he was driving with both hands on the
wheel I felt it was up to me to make the next move towards what I hoped
would be 100%.  The way he'd mentioned 90% meant, surely, that he wanted it
to be 100%, or he would have just pulled over and told me to get out.
Maybe I was 99% sure.  Should I put my right hand on his thigh or ... no, I
would be more explicit.  I lifted my bum off the seat and pulled my shorts
down (still no underpants, remember).  "100% now?" I whispered.

"OK, kid, we're talking the same language here.  I like what I see.  Have
you done this before?"

For sixty-odd years, I thought.  "Yeah, if you mean going with older guys.
Never had it in a lorry before though.  What about you - d'you pick up lots
of boys?"

"Not many, and very few as sparky and up for it as you are.  I like your
bold approach.  How old are you anyway?"

"14," I said - might as well be honest.  "But I'm not a beginner, Peter.
I'm up for pretty much anything."

"Anything?"  "Well, not pain, but just about anything else.  What about
you?"  I was hoping he would be explicit, and the dirtier the better.
"What d'you want me to do?" I asked.

He was wriggling around in his seat - clearly he had a hard-on now and was
making himself more comfortable.

"Got a stiffy, I see, just like me," I said, "I'd like to see it soon."
"Soon enough, lad," he said, "but I've got to get this load as far as
Bristol by 4 o'clock."  (It was now about 2.)

"It's not the only load you'll be shifting today them," I said, and he gave
a huge laugh.  "God, kid, you go straight for it, don't you!"

We settled down to the drive, knowing that sooner or later we'd be getting
to know each other a great deal better.

********

After he got to Bristol and delivered his whatever it was he got back in
the cab.  "OK, Peter, here's what we'll do.  I have to pick up another load
in Taunton tonight and deliver it to Plymouth tomorrow.  If we go straight
to Taunton now and collect the load by about 8 we will have all evening to
do the business.  This rig has a bed space and we'll be fine in there.  I
don't suppose you have to be anywhere special, do you?"

I told him that I had no plans at all beyond spending the night with him
and getting to Plymouth with him tomorrow.  What happened after that would
depend on how tonight went, and whether I wanted to stick around with him.
One day at a time, that's my motto now I'm 14 again.  We drove on to
Taunton, stopping for something to eat on the way, picked up the load and
were driving out of the town towards Plymouth on the A38 by the time it was
getting dark after 9 o'clock.  This was long before the M5 was built and
there were lots of lay-bys for lorries to pull in for the night.  Peter
said he knew a nice place where it would be quiet.  I was looking forward
to getting there and settling down for a good session with this nice guy.

We pulled into the lay-by, and we were the only vehicle there.  It was
completely dark apart from the headlights of passing traffic.  Peter got
down from the cab and opened a door behind on my side.  "Hop in here," he
said.

Inside was a space the whole width of the lorry and about 4 feet deep.
There was a bed almost the whole width with space to stand, and at the foot
of the bed was a tiny space with a kettle and a small sink. This would be
where it all was going to happen, and my skin got goose bumps thinking
about it.  What would he be like, I wondered.  I would find out soon
enough.

Peter and I sat side by side on the bed, each of us waiting for the other
to make the first move.  I decided it ought to be me, after all I was the
one who was out looking for sex.

"What would you like to do?" I asked, "you've had long enough to think
about it.  I'm up for anything you might want."  And I stood up and took
off my clothes, allowing him to perv at my hairless young body.  My cock
was at full mast and it bobbed along with my heartbeat.  "C'mon, Peter, I'm
ready."

He stood up and knelt in front of me, and was about to take my cock in his
mouth.  "Oh, no," I said, "you have to be naked too.  I want to see your
cock and I want to get to play with it as well."  As I hoped he was out of
his clothes in about 30 seconds flat and I was able to take in the sight
before me.  He had a beautiful body, with a nice six-pack, very little body
hair, shaved pubes (delight!) and an uncut 7 inches poking skywards.  Just
about perfect, I thought.  "OK," I said, "now that we're equal you can get
down again and do your worst."  His tongue was very skilled, licking the
underside of my cock from my balls to the tip, over and over again.  I was
dying for him to take it into his mouth, but he didn't.  My cock started
producing drops of pearly pre-cum and each time he licked them up, still
not getting his lips round it.  This was a new sensation for me, and one
which I guessed he would want to prolong.  After a few more minutes he told
me to kneel on the bed so that he could explore my bum.  Nice, I thought.
I knelt and he laid behind me, opening my cheeks and licking my perineum.
More - a lot more - pre-cum oozed out and ran down the underside of my cock
to my balls where he licked it again.  After 10 minutes of this my whole
groin was awash with his saliva and my cock-juices.

"Time for a deeper exploration," he said, "you OK with that?"  "You bet," I
said, "fingers or cock?"  "Fingers first, then let's see," he said.  He
reached for the lube - he clearly agreed with the Boy Scout motto - and
squirted a good dollop on the places that needed it.  One finger went in
("ooh!" "Another?" "Yes, 2 or 3.") then another, and another ("ooooh!
that's good").  He rolled his three fingers about and I pushed back trying
to squeeze them further in.  "I'm gonna fuck you now, OK?"  "Yessss, stick
it in and fuck me hard, Peter."

He removed his fingers and I could feel the hot hard head of his lovely
cock pressing against the wet open lips of my 14-year-old arsehole.  "Go
for it," I begged him, "fuck me silly, fill me with your hot spunk."

In it went, hard and fast.  I gasped with the sheer deep penetrating
pleasure of it.  I had come 56 years to have sex with boys and here I was,
joyously receiving the thrusting cock of a man 10 years older.  And I was
loving it.  I pushed back as he fucked me, slowly at first.  He reached
round and felt my rigid cock.  "You're loving this, kid, aren't you!"
"Mmmm."

He kept up a good rhythm for about three minutes, then started to speed up
as his climax approached.  I was in heaven, just wishing he would keep
going for ever.  The nerves inside my arse chute were working overtime as
the ridge of his cock-head plunged in and out.  My prostate was getting
more stimulation from this guy's cock than it had had for years.  Too soon,
too soon he pushed in further than ever and groaned. I could feel his spunk
jetting into me ... one, two, three, four big spurts.  He stayed in, his
cock softening a bit, bit still big and satisfyingly filling me up.
Eventually it slipped out and quick as a flash I was round and immediately
took it in my mouth and licked all the cummy juices - tasty! - and arse
juices - yes, they were tasty too.  I kept my cheeks pinched as shut as I
could while I was doing this, then, when his cock was clean, I knelt over
his belly and leaned forward to kiss him on the lips.  He was a bit
surprised by this, but not as surprised as he was five seconds later when I
pushed and all his hot sticky spunk came out of my arse and landed smearing
on his belly.

"I need to cum now," I said, "and I'd like you to use your cum as lube
while you wank me with one hand and smear the cum on my ball-bag with the
other.

"God, you're a kinky little bugger, aren't you," he said.  "Just you wait,"
I said, "but get on with the wanking."

He did as I asked.  His left hand scooped up half the mess - there was a
lot of it - and cupped my balls in it.  He scooped the rest up with his
right hand and "lie on your back now" got to work on me.  Both hands
wandered over the whole of the area; sometimes I was being wanked with one
hand, sometimes the other; I was wriggling and twitching and moaning and
"I'm nearly there" at last he took my cock in his mouth and closed his lips
and I came and came and came and "oh, fuck, Peter, that was the best
ever". "It was the best ever for me too, Peter," he said.  I lay back,
exhausted by the massive cum.  He laid beside me, hot and sweaty with the
energy of his fucking.  We held hands while we came down from Cloud Nine.

After some minutes I asked him where he would be going after Plymouth.  I
wanted to stay with this guy, at least for a few days.  It was almost
midnight and tomorrow would be the 4th of August, so I still had plenty of
time for fucking boys, even if I spent several days with Peter.

"Why are you asking?  Does that mean you want to stick around for more fun
- I hope so, 'cos I live in Cornwall and I've got four days before I need
to pick up a load to go north."

This was getting better and better, I thought.  If he lives there we can
have more fucking in a proper bed.  There'll be a beach too where I can
perv the other boys, and if he liked sex with me there's a good chance we
might find other lads to have an orgy.  The horizons of lust were
expanding, just like my cock as I thought about it all.

"Yeah, I think I might just about manage to fit you into my busy schedule,"
I said.  "Is your place near the sea?"

"Little place called Camborne, nearly as far down the A30 as it goes.  It's
a few miles from the sea, but there's an interesting beach nearby - you'll
like it."

We had cooled down now and I needed a piss.  I got out and did what all the
old carters used to do - piss on the nearside wheel.  Peter climbed down
and watched and when I'd finished he and did the same.  I watched the arc
of his piss hungrily as it splattered onto the wheel.  He noticed me
watching.  "Into piss, are you?"  "Mmm."  "You'll enjoy the next few days
even more then."

We snuggled together in the bed and were soon asleep.

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<End of Chapter 8: hope you're enjoying the hitch-hiking, Bruce>

Thanks to the guys who've already been on with ideas - keep them coming.
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.