Date: Sat, 23 Jul 2016 04:31:33 +0100 (BST)
From: z.blake@tutanota.com
Subject: Quickerjacks

QUICKERJACKS
By Zachyboy
M/b, oral, anal

A friend of mine once said to me – (and I won't name him, so you're
totally safe, Benj) – "Sweet Buddha, Zach. It's not that I haven't been
meaning to read your last story, it's just that some of your stories are so
damn in-depth, I practically know what your kid characters had for lunch
yesterday and what grades they're getting in school before anyone gets
around to nailing their drainpipes."

In other words, by "in-depth" (kind euphemism), I'm assuming Benj meant
"ridiculously long." I mean, why mince words, right? I tend to be a bit of
a windbag sometimes. (Hahaha! I almost typed "douchebag." Same basic
principles apply).

And Mark, my "Smell This" co-author, (traitor!), once said I couldn't write
a thousand-word story if I tried.

Well, la-dee-dah and pissity-poop on you guys. Just watch me, fuckers.

I said to Mark, "I should do a shorter vignette series. You know, like
"Smell This," only nobody's got their nose up a kid's ass."

"Yeah," he said. "A vignette series...but a sex series, not a sniff
series."

"The Quickjack Chronicles!" I said with a flourish.

"Exactly!" he agreed. My hero. My buddy.

"Wait! Wait! Quickerjacks!" I amended. "For the guy on a time budget!"

We both laughed like silly little girls, which essentially we are
sometimes, and this new series was born.

So, here you go. Quick wanks for the man who wants to cum without all the
unnecessary character development. Rush, rush, rush. Everybody's in a such
a hurry these days.

I'm sad to tell Mark and Benj, I still didn't hit the
thousand-word-per-story cutoff, but I'm getting closer, God bless
me. "Manner Pudding" is 1,100 words, and "Hold His Head Down" is
1,300. See! I can *almost* be brief! (Well, kinda! Sorta!)

Both of these first quick "quickerjack" fappers deal with the delicious
concept of holding a boy's head down to receive "the gift" whether he's up
for the challenge or not. It's a concept close to my heart and even closer
to my nuts, so please enjoy.

And it goes without saying, the following stories are two big ol' works of
fiction, so don't try this at home, dummy.

And donate to the Nifty Archive Alliance to keep windbags like me yammering
happily away with our keyboards in one hand and our dicks in the other.

http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

On with the (much shorter) show.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

1. MANNER PUDDING

It started when my old friend Duggy texted me and said, "Good morning, my
sweet friend! Happy weekend! I'm up early making `nanner pudding today!"

And I texted back and said, "LOL, I have no idea what that is."

And he said, "You know. Southern slang for banana pudding!"

And I said, "OH! I read that too fast. I thought you said "manner" pudding,
not "nanner" pudding.

And he said, "LOL. Yes. Nanner, not manner.

And I said, "Lord, some of the phrases you people use down there."

And he said, "If I dropped you off at the Walmart in Huntsville for an
hour, you wouldn't understand a single word people are saying."

And I laughed. And agreed. But then I got to thinking of "manner" pudding.

"Would that be rich people's pudding they only serve in the manor?" I
mused, good-natured scamp that I am.

"You mean pudding to the manor born?" Duggy asked. He slays me
sometimes. He honestly does.

"Yeah," I grinned. "Rich folks in the manor eat it!!"

"No," he said. "Think of this. Manner pudding would be the result of a
polite jack-off session. Hahaha!"

I said, "Ha! No, I've got a better one. Remember that little smart-ass who
lives down the street from me? That kid, Nolan, who always picks on all the
other kids? I'd like to knock that little fucker down to his knees, unzip,
and feed him some manner pudding."

He said, "Oh yeah! That's hot! Teach him his manners!"

"Damn right," I said, "Manner pudding is a curative for a boy's bad
behavior."

"What is he?" Duggy asked. "10 now?"

"11," I told him. "Hot as a fire engine. Nasty as a thumb tack."

"Boy, there's a boy who needs a wad of manner pudding down his gorge."

"No shit," I told him. "I'd pay good money to watch Nolan wince down his
first big load of manner pudding from my cock. Maybe he'll like it, maybe
not. But it's sure going to be fun to see the look on his face when he gags
it all down."

"Oh, yeah," Dugger said. "Watch his eyes bug out as you feed him some
tapioca."

"Reminds me of the first time I shot a liquid load in my cousin Bricso's
mouth when we were kids," I told Duggy. "He'd already been sucking me for
years, but we were just kids, so all I ever gave him were dry cums. So when
my stuff started coming out, I remember how wide his eyes got that first
time there was suddenly a few little oozes of slimy liquid to contend
with. He wasn't quite sure if he was supposed to swallow it or not."

"Did he swallow it?" Duggy asked.

"Oh yeah," I answered. "He swallowed it all."

"Mmm," he said. "Cute little Brisco with his surprised, slimy tongue,
gagging it all down like a big boy."

"Yep," I said. "Of course, I was holding his head down and not letting him
up, telling him not to waste any, so it wasn't like he had a whole lot of
choice in the matter, LOL."

Well, the text chat tapered off as Duggy went back to his `nanner pudding,
and I went back to thinking of feeding a thicker, bleachier, warmer load of
"manner" pudding to smart-ass neighbor boy Nolan.

"I see you picking on those other kids, Nolan," I said to him the next day
in my back yard when nobody else could see us. High ledges. No sight
lines. Ample tree cover with low hanging branches. "Get down on your knees
and open up wide, cockslut. It's time somebody taught you some manners,
boy. I got a great big load of manner pudding boiling in my balls I've been
saving up for you, sunshine."

"Fuck you," he sneered. "I'm supposed to suck your dumb cock? Who cares? I
suck my brother's cock all the time, you shitty old numb nuts."

"Your brother's 14," I told him. "I'm 44. He shoots drops. I shoot ropes."

"Big deal" Nolan shrugged, not giving me the pleasure of seeing him
scared...or excited. "Big cocks taste like little cocks, as far as I'm
concerned."

"Ohhhh," I told him, "I think you're going to be surprised, Nolan. I think
this one's going to taste like whole new ballgame at the end, kiddo."

Nolan shrugged and dropped to his knees while I unzipped and grabbed the
back of his head. He opened wide and he got to work like he does for plenty
of guys, sucking me like a champion. He's done this enough to know how to
go down deep, then back off the fuckpipe to please a guy shallow.

He alternated between taking me deep in his maw, almost caressing me with
his throat muscles, and then pulling back almost too far, so nearly the tip
of my crown kissed his lips, while he tongue-rolled and hoovered my glans
like the young 5th grade professional bottom boy he's someday destined to
be.

"Does your brother make you swallow all his jizz or do you spit it all
out?" I grunted, nearing my apex.

"I spit it all out," he grumbled between mouthfuls of cock. "I ain't
swallowing none of THAT gross shit, motherfucker."

"Yeah?" I sneered at him authoritatively, watching him bob and grabbing
some head purchase. "I think you're about to be WAY wrong about that,
sunshine."

I grabbed his head firmly and watched his eyes bug out in surprise, then
excitement, as I pumped forward into the deepest part of his throat,
enjoying the sound of his hitching gag reflex, and fired all the sauce in
my balls right straight down his smart-ass windpipe. He reached for his own
cock and squeezed it hard when he swallowed. His eyes rolled back in his
head and I let him have it good, really yanking him down on my dick shaft
and not letting go.

"NNNGH...gulp...UNGHH," he sputtered. Then, "fuck!" Then, "ewww!" He came
up for air, trying to drool and spit it all out, but too late. He'd already
gobbled.

"There's your manner pudding, smart-ass," I grunted. His post-gulp aversion
wasn't fooling anybody. I'd fed him my jets and watched him rub his hard
littel boy cocklet as he drank it.

"Asshole," he sputtered, wiping his lips on the back of his dirty
arm. "Warn a guy when you're gonna do that."

"That takes the surprise away," I grinned.

"Manner pudding," I texted Duggy later that evening. "Turns out he likes
it."

"It goes down smooth and sticks to the ribcage." Duggy smiley-faced back.

"He's coming back tomorrow to gobble some more."

Three thumbs-up and we both went to bed.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

2. HOLD HIS HEAD DOWN

It's not that I objected to holding a boy's head down when I came in his
mouth, it's just that I hadn't done it for a long time.

When Frank told me Scooter really liked it when Dear Old Dad locked his
head in place when he popped off a visit from Mr. Whitey down the little
kid's gullet, I was skeptical.

"The kid's only 12," I said. "It just seems impolite to gag him with a full
manload, man. Don't you want to let him up so he can catch his breath at
least? Give him a little breathing room?"

"Nah," his dad assured me. "Hold him firm and let him latch on. He'll
sputter a little, but he'll gulp it all down. Christ, he's been doing this
for a long time, Mickey. It's not like he's going to get squeamish and
vomit on you."

"Wow," I said. "Just...wow."

I thought back to when Frank and I were kids. Cousins. He was two years
younger than me. And he was sucking my cock long before I could cum. I was
9 and he was 7.

For Frank, swallowing my sperm was just a natural evolution of our
playtime. It had to happen sooner or later. Boys grow up into bigger
boys. But I do remember when I fed him my first wet one, slimy and sweet
and peppering off into his little mouth when I was 12 and he was 10, it
caught him by such surprise, his eyes bugged out when the honey hit his
tongue.

"Hey!" He tried to balk and pull off my dick, but I held him in place.

I locked him back onto my cock shaft, and deep-throated trembling, I made
him eat every last drop. Not that there was that much to eat, but you know,
even at 12, there's some natural born male evolutionary instinct about
cumming into a mouth or a hole and wanting it to stay there. Later it turns
into crude adult order-barking. "Swallow it, bitch."

But back then it's just the alpha male's (alpha boy's?) body saying, "Hey,
guys. We're ejaculating now. This is the juice that makes babies. It's
important to keep it in the hole and not spill any out, you know?
Perpetuation of the species, dude. Keep the liquid in there." Our poor
little gayboy boyballs think every hole's a cunt to impregnate.

Anyway, I held Frank's little head down on my 12-year-old, 3-inch stiffy,
no bigger or longer than my ring finger, and made him swallow all of my
watery pre-sperm. It was more like honey-goo at that age. Crystal clear
Karo Light Corn Syrup. Not even semen, really. But it was as sweet as a
kiss from Jesus.

And now here we were, thirty years later, all grown up, and he was telling
me to do the same thing to his own son, my own nephew Scooter.

"Hold him firm and let him latch on. He'll sputter a little, but he'll gulp
it all down. Christ, he's been doing this for a long time, Mickey. It's not
like he's going to get squeamish and vomit on you."

All right. What the fuck. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Now, little Scooter had sucked me off before, and he'd already dealt with
my pudding-thick cumloads in the makeshift, rambshackle ad-lib combination
of spit and swallow tactics common to a boy of 12. On some days, he'd
swallow it and wince a little and go "eww," and on other days he'd spit it
clandestinely on the sheets when he thought I wasn't looking.

I gave Scooter wide berth with my goo-loads and let him do what he needed
to do. I never called him out when he spit. He was proud of his cocksucking
talent, just iffy on the swallowing. So why embarrass the poor boy? When he
looked a little nauseous after a big one, I just politely averted my eyes
and let him drool it back out on the bed sheet or into my pubes so he could
save face and move on.

I mean, why be greedy? If a boy's going to be cooperative enough to suck
you to completion, be a sport and let him do whatever he needs to do with
the ball sauce.

But not tonight. If Frank insisted it gave Scooter a secret thrill to lock
his tonsils when the motherlode fires, then who was I to argue?

So that night, during the customary Saturday night sleepover so Frank and
Debbie could have their date night, Scooter was already in my bed, buns up
and kneeling with his magnificent little ass in my face, bare-butt brave,
going from town-to-town on my six-incher while I licked away at his balls
and his honey hole. I was about thirty seconds away from feeding him his
bedtime snack.

"That's it, Scooter," I whispered into his asshole. "You know how to suck
that mancock, don't you baby?"

"Uh-huh," Scooter whimpered in treble, more vibration than dialogue since
my dick was puffing out his boycheeks.

"I'm gonna feed you a big old creamy load right now, Scooter. You'd like
that, wouldn't you, baby? A great big thick wad you can swallow down your
boy belly?

"Uh-huh," Scooter whimpered yearningly, like no 6th grader had ever
whimpered before, getting excited and picking up the suction-pace. His own
little cocklet was rock hard and quivering.

"Eat it, you little cocksucking gobble-baby. Take my cockload and eat it!
Swallow!"

I reached up and held his head in place and fired off a sizeable load of
heady-thick man-goop right down his immature gulper. The results were
immediate.

I heard him sputter and I felt his throat muscles contract around it.

"Errrrghhh!" he objected, trying to break free. I held him down.

"NNNNGGHH!" I grunted again. Then, "Shhh! Be a good boy!"  as I fired away
into the back of his throat and wouldn't let him budge.

He coughed a few more times, then I felt him, gulp-gulp-gulp, swallow it
down, and satisfied I'd made some babies in his windpipe, I let him up to
catch his breath.

"Hey!" he hollered, wiping his lips and glaring at me. "How come you held
me down?"

I grinned. "Your dad said you like it that way. He said you get off."

"No way!" Scooter said, looking puzzled and horrified. "He never did that
to me! That was gross! That was glumpy!"

"Glumpy," I smiled. The boy thinks my cum is "glumpy." I squeezed the last
drop off the end of my pecker, grateful for made-up-goofy boywords, then
wiped it off and smeared it on his lips, like lip gloss.

"Sorry," I told him with an innocent shrug. "I guess your dad tricked me. I
guess he tricked both of us."

He licked my semen off his lips, reached down and squeezed my dick shaft.

"Ow!" I said.

"Asshole," he giggled. He leaned forward and kissed me. I tasted my own cum
on his lips.

"Next time you hold my head down like that, I'm gonna bite your cock off,"
he smiled. He burped and I smelled semen on his breath.

"That might be fun," I smiled at him. "There's nothing like a boy who
nibbles."

"Not nibble," he grinned. "I'm gonna bite your cockhead. Hard."

And somehow, I had a feeling he wasn't bullshitting.

He scooted up over my chest and stuck his little ring-finger dick at my
lips. Barbarians at the gate.

"Suck it," he ordered. "I'm gonna hold your head down and make you drink
mine, Uncle Mick."

I smiled. "You don't even cum yet, Scooter."

"Yeah?" he grinned. "Then I'll make you drink something else. Something
yellower."

And with that implied disaster impending, I grinned at my nephew and
grabbed his sexy little butt and slurped his dicklet into my mouth as my
quickly-lubed finger from the bottle in the night stand dresser drawer
sought the ovenlike bud of his little back door.

Scooter sighed as my fuck finger slipped into his clenchy-wet rectum and he
rammed his babybone forward and without much finesse, but with plenty of
enthusiasm, he fucked me senseless, boyraping a little uncleface.

And two minutes and fifteen seconds later after his dry shivers and a
couple of forced abdominal grunts, a grinning Scooter held my head in place
and made me drink a few little squirts of his payback.

It was a little too salty for my taste, but what the hell, I love that kid.

And after all, I did have it coming.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

Thanks to Benj and Mark, the best friends a pervy old windbag could hope
for.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

Love,
Zach
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/prolific.html#zachyboy