Date: Sun, 7 Aug 2016 08:28:40 +0100 (BST)
From: z.blake@tutanota.com
Subject: Quickerjacks 4

QUICKERJACKS 4
By Zachyboy
M/b, oral, facial, masturbation

The following pair of stories are both fiction, although wouldn't it be
funny if one of them was fiction and the other one wasn't? Hmm, that's kind
of sexy. Go ahead. You pick.

Quickerjacks are warm-up fappers, 1,500 words or less. They might make you
cum, they might just horn you up for another author's story you'll
eventually scamper off and lose your load to. Heck, don't feel pressured to
cum during my two. Shit. Dry rub on mine to get your motor running, then
hop off and blow your creampie on whoever else wrote a good one today. I'm
not offended in the least if you crank out your gravy elsewhere. Good
heavens, no. There's enough goop in your balls for all of us.

Today's topic, birthday boys! YAY! One's turning 11 and the other's turning
9. Admired from afar, and then reeeeally up close, by a couple of unrelated
pervs who have access to their boybits. One's a little bit darker and one's
a little bit lighter, as both men and erotica annoyingly tend to
be. ((chipper shrug)) If nothing else, I try to stay flexible!

Special thanks to Nifty fellow author Boy Ahoy for help on the first story
below, and for making the ending so much more palatable. Imagine the gall
of that fucker, passing out editing advice to a self-absorbed narcissist
prick like me. That's chutzpah, my friends, and you gotta love
chutzpah. Thanks, BA!

Okay. Let me say this one more time. If you haven't donated to the Nifty
Archive Alliance yet, I swear I'm going to throttle you. I mean, Jesus,
people. Is it so fucking hard?

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

I should just start calling out the ten most recent donors on the homepage
every time I write a new story and give you some respect for your awesome
dedication. Howz-bout that?

Cue the follow-spot, lighting crew. Bring up that number one bank of floods
and let these fuckers take a bow.

Michael, Simon, Ken, Harry, Joseph, Allan, John, Jim, William, and Timon? I
love you guys.

And you know why? Because you give me and 10,000 other lost souls a place
to put our most unprintable stuff, and that would never happen without
incredibly generous people like you.

"Recent Donors?" Pfft. That's a fucking understatement. You guys are my
champions. I thank you from the bottom of my boywriter heart to the
boyreader boybottom boynummy of yours. You make us all possible.

Enough said. Mother, I need a fucking tissue.

On with the show.

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

8. FACTOR OF TEN

"My son's name is Factor," she told me at dinner.

"Your whose name is what-huh?" I responded with momentary confusion. She
slung it out of nowhere while I was busy with my Yuengling. You don't just
blurt shit out like that. People aren't focused.

"My son," she repeated patiently, like I had a condition. "My son's name is
Factor."

"Factor. Got it. Super. Okay then."

She stared at me quizzically for my lukewarm response, but honestly, I
didn't know what was required of me. I mean, what the fuck do you say to,
"My son's name is Factor?"

"Congratulations?"

"That's creative?"

Was she warning me? Courting praise?

Saddle your kid with a name like Factor? That's a mumma-lumma starved for
attention. That's a crazy lady's cry for help right there.

She probably didn't want me to bump into him getting up for night pee and
laugh at his name. She was prepping me for him in case we swapped
handshakes, pre or post-coitus, which meant I was getting laid tonight.

Factor.

Jesus.

Talk about teasing on the playground.

I'd warn boyfriends too.

Oh well, I was just trying to get laid, not examine her DNA string. So all
I said was, "Factor. Got it. Super. Okay then." When pussy is pending, you
don't rock the apple cart.

Well, it turned out she became a regular thing, and Factor really grew on
me. He was 10 years old, soon to be 11, and like all seasoned 10's, Factor
was fun. He picked his nose when nobody was looking. He farted in front of
me, went fire-engine red, then snort-giggled sheepishly. I shrugged in
non-concern, farted back, he howled like a hyena and we were buds for life.

He had the most marvelous little mouth I'd seen on a 10-year-old since I
was 12 or 13 and used to stick my own dick in the same make and model. He
licked the pizza sauce off his lips one night and my dick actually
reared-up and spoke out loud. "Hey, old-timer," it whispered. "We used to
park our teenpecker in lips like his back in the day. Get the old Mustang
out. Let's take those sweet little flashbacks for a spin!"

It's so unfair when your cock taunts you that way.

I got a lot of head from younger boys back in my teen years (they were
always so cooperative and eager to please), but I soon grew out of it
because women are legal and boys aren't.

But Factor in the house added a complicating...well...factor, I guess. (Saw
that one coming a mile away, didn't we?)

10-year-old Factor upped the ante and woke up a whole bunch of dormant boy
feelings I thought I'd long-since pushed aside, complicating my
relationship with his mom...well...by a factor of 10.

I know. I'm sorry. I'll stop doing that. It's distracting.

But 10 made me want him, and 10 was so pretty, so I'd wait until his mom
was asleep (easy to determine because she snored like a horse), slip out of
her bed where I'd just fucked her (or not), and I'd pad down the hallway to
Factor's room, where I'd slither in softly and watch him asleep.

I'd stroke my dick in the moonlight, standing right next to his bed, amazed
at how pretty he was, staring at his lips mostly. Dreaming of sticking my
cock in his mouth.

Beautiful lips. Like a painting, perfection. Plump. Full. Begging to be
coated.

The first couple of nights, I jacked off looking at him, quietly, urgently,
and caught the cum in my hand. Palm-cupped, shot, and quietly backed
out. Washed in the sink and went back to bed.

After that, I got a little more daring. He never woke, so jacking away, I
started saying things to him. Sexy things. Whisper-dirty-pervy things.

"You want to eat some, Factor? You want to eat the cream out of this big
cock while you're sleeping, baby? You want this big fucker to give you some
cream-dreams?"

It took no time at all to lose my load when I whispered sexy fuck talk to
him. I'd shoot in less than a minute.

I started getting braver. He slept with a hand in front of his face, his
fingers right in front of me. Soft fingers, warm fingers. 10-year-old boy
fingers.

I lifted his hand and he didn't wake up. So I put it on my hard cock. I
squeezed his fingers around my dick. He stirred and I froze. But he went
back to sleep.

So I squeezed his fingers around me again. Made him feel my hardness. Used
his hand like a hot little boy glove. Jacked myself off in his grasp. Came
like crazy and caught my own jizz. My sticky hand was shaking. His fell
limply to the bed, unsullied. None the wiser.

"Good boy, Factor," I grunt-whispered quietly. "Good little man. You made
that dick shoot some thick stuff for you. Maybe our next time, you'll
swallow it down."

God, his face was pretty. His ears, his cheeks, his sleep-matted hair. His
nose, his lips, his little boy chin. His beautiful philtrum, that denty
little gully between his nose and lip. Perfect to catch just a little
souvenir. God, I needed to cum on him.

After his mom went to sleep the next night, I slipped into his room and
started stroking and watching him. But this time I needed it by his
mouth. This time, I moved my cockhead right up close. Right up to his pouty
red lips. I smeared pre-cum across him like silver, slimy lip gloss.

In stories, the boy smacks his lips and licks up the pre-cum. Takes the
man's cockhead into his mouth and nurses like a baby on the teat. No such
luck in real life. Factor just kept sleeping while I slowly rubbed my
sticky dick tip on his lips.

"Pretty Factor," I whispered like a good dog. "Pretty, baby. Pretty-pretty
good boy."

I stroked a few times and it sure didn't take long. He was so fucking
pretty and his mouth was so beautiful.

"Feel it," I whispered. "All over your mouth." I pressed my dickhead to his
lips and, "nnngh!" fired off. I whisper-hiss-grunted, and came on his
philtrum. His mouthgully sleepylips.

A second rope shot out and snot-gooped his nostril. A third streaked his
cheek. I was spellbound, watching myself cum on him.

"Factor got a facial," I whispered to him, awed. It sounded like a
ridiculous Nifty title, but I whispered it anyway.

I scooped the cum off his cheek with my finger and ate it.

I leaned down closer and did something daring. I licked the cum off his
lips. This time his tongue did flick out. It just barely touched mine, and
it felt like being electrocuted.

I ate the cum off his philtrum. I sucked and kissed and nibbled-lipped
gently. I cum-sucked him clean. He never woke up.

In the middle of the night, I woke up his mom and I fucked her insanely
hard.

"Someone's excited," she winced as she let me.

"Someone just ate his wad off your little boy's lips," I wanted to
grunt. "Someone's pretending your cunt is his hole."

But why rock the apple cart? I came in her primally, dented her cervix, and
let her limp to the bathroom for a tidy and a pee. I could tell she was
sore, but I couldn't care less. Her son was so beautiful, and if I couldn't
fuck him, I'd rattle her lumbar. Sorry dear Deb, but this is spinal
tap. You better get used to it.

Tomorrow I'd get Factor to swallow just a little. Push a little of my
cocktip inside. Just barely make him taste the flavor. Rest it on his
tongue and shoot off so he'd swallow. No one's the wiser.

"Hey guys," he smiled at the breakfast table. "Weird dreams last night."

"Yeah?" I asked him, pouring his cereal.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Kinda good ones though."

"Birthday tomorrow," his mom said, kissing his head. "Excited or bored?"

"Bored," he yawned. "I hate getting presents."

I winked and he giggled.

He ate and he dressed and he went off to school. He farted, shrugged
innocently, and waved at the door.

"I'll give you a present," I thought as I nodded. "Frost it up like a
birthday cake and see if you want a piece."

He gave me a grin, and Lord, what a smile. What perfect white boy
teeth. The better to eat you with, my dear. I looked at his lips and I may
have licked mine. He was off like a shot. His last day of 10.

When I coaxed my cockhead into his sleeping mouth that night, sure enough,
he started to nurse on me, just like they say in the Nifty stories.

It turns out sleeping boys really do suck you like babies on their sleepy
birthday eves with the moon shining down. And they swallow what you feed
them without even knowing.

"Good boy," I whispered as he slept through his bedtime snack.

He'd complicated my life by a factor of 10.

But I pushed my cock in his mouth, just a little bit deeper.

Happy birthday, dear Factor.

Let's turn it up to 11.

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

9. GAG GIFT

Marshall Mackenzie Halloran the Third was gay as a little springtime breeze
and everybody knew it.

In Kindergarten, I overheard one of the PTO moms say, "I'm pretty sure that
little Macky boy is gay."

And the other mom got all puffed up and indignant like self-important moms
do and said, "You can't assign "gay" or "straight" to a boy that little. A
boy that little is still entirely non-sexual. That's just wrong to call a
5-year-old gay."

And then Marshall Mackenzie Halloran the Third came out of his classroom
and did a perfect, twirling, twinkle-toed pirouette all the way down the
hallway and straight down to carline, and the other mom stopped in the
midst of her mini-lecture, her jaw dropped open, and I heard her whisper to
the other mom, "Oh, fuck yeah. He's gay."

My name's Noah, and I'm a friend of the family. Macky calls me Nobey. He
knows I'm gay and I know he's gay. We're very frank about it.

I own a little house down the street about four houses away from Macky's
house, and I also own the first penis Macky ever sucked on the afternoon of
his 9th birthday, although Macky called it my ding-dong.

"Huxley Baker says gay boys suck ding-dongs," Macky said to me as we were
cleaning up wrapping paper and tossing out paper plates of half-eaten
birthday cake and cardboard-cold pizza crusts.

The party had ended an hour ago. The last kid had gone home. Macky's mom
and dad had to take his sister to her dance competition. Never a dull
moment in the Halloran household. I volunteered to watch Macky so he could
play with his new birthday toys. I said I'd clean up. I'd been in their
lives for years. Trusted old friend and honorary uncle. Beautiful fools.

"Well, sure," I told him. "A lot of us suck ding-dongs, but not everybody
does."

"How come?" he asked.

"Well, some people suck them, some like theirs sucked."

"Which do you like?"

"Oh, I like both," I answered honestly. "Lots of guys like both."

"Are they big?" he wondered.

"Men's are. Boys' aren't."

I went back to picking up the party mess and throwing some plastic cups in
the sink, and I thought that was the end of the conversation until Macky
called from across the room, "Hey Nobey, wanna go in my bedroom and try to
suck each other's ding-dongs?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, Macky. Grown-ups can get in a lot of
trouble for sucking kids' ding-dongs."

"But what if the kid keeps it a really good secret?"

"Kids never keep really good secrets," I smiled at him. "Kids are pretty
shitty secret-keepers."

"Aw, Nobey. How'm I ever gonna learn ding-dong sucking if you don't get me
started?"

He had me there. I mean as far as gay stuff was concerned, I was indeed his
male role model. I pretty-much set the bar.

I wiped my hands on a dish towel and I tossed it on the counter, trying
once more valiantly to dodge the inevitable bullet. Inevitable, gosh, since
he was in the womb, I guess.

"Macky, let's have this conversation when you turn 15, not 9," I said, sort
of fake-exasperated.

He plowed on anyway, determined and focused.

"It's really not fair," he said with authority. "You've been sucking
ding-dongs for years. I never even took a single ding-dong lesson."

Oh, fuck it. My arousal got the better of me and it trumped my common
sense.

"Well..." I waffled cautiously...

"YAY!" he shouted. "We're gonna suck ding-dongs!"

I sighed. Game over.

He scampered off to his bedroom. Scampered? Twirled? Flitted? Poofed? There
was simply no word for the way Macky made an exit.

"Macky," I sighed, appearing in his doorway. "We're gonna get in trouble if
we do this, you know."

He made a lip locking pantomime. Tick a lock. Throw away the key.

"Cross my heart and hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye," he said
solemnly. A serious oath when you're 9.

"Oh, fine, Macky. Fine," I relented. "Pull down your pants and stick out
your ding-dong."

"Yay!" he squealed, a boy in victory.

"I'm only doing this for a few seconds. So don't send out any wedding
invitations."

"Boo!" he pouted.

He dropped his pants and out popped his little boner. It was beautiful
actually. Pinky thin and perfectly intact and about the same length as a
Jimmy Dean breakfast sausage. The little, pre-cooked mini-kind.

I took him by the armpits, lifted him up on his Star Wars bed standing up,
grabbed his cute little butt cheeks and sucked his little penis into my
mouth. It was salty and silky and it tasted like butterscotch. Maple and
boy-willy. Super Sugar Crisp cereal from my childhood.

"Ohhhh," he said reverently. "No wonder Huxley Baker says we do this. This
feels great, Nobey!"

I nodded "Mmm-hmm" and continued to suck him, and the hum made him giggle
when it vibrated his boybone.

My fingers instinctively sought out the crease of his tushy, and before I
knew it, my middle digit was slowly rubbing toward the entrance of his
gateway, which I found already slick with Vaseline.

"Macky," I said, a little surprised. "You're lubed in your butthole?"

"Huh?" he said, not knowing the word. "Nah. I just put that baby cream
stuff on it. So Sharpies go in. Once I got a whole yellow highlighter in
me!"

I savored the moment. Sucking his cock and finger-twirling his quivering
rosebud. His wet little boyhole.

"Okay," I told him, before I couldn't stop myself. "That's enough now,
Macky. Pull your pants back up."

He pouted but did, and I lifted him off his Star Wars bed.

"My turn!" he chirped. "Take out your ding-dong!"

"No, Macky. Mine's too big."

"Please, Nobey," he whined. "Today is my birthday!"

He pouted perfection. He waited and won. He completely stared me down.

"Oh, all right," I told him. But just the tip. And just for a second."

"Yay!" he hollered, and his eyes lit up.

I unzipped and tugged my pants down. His eyes bugged out when I lowered my
undies. My cock was half-hard, half-soft. Pointed down toward his carpet,
but certainly waking.

"Holy cow," he whispered. "It looks like the garden hose in the back yard!
This thing is HUGE!"

"Yeah right," I eye-rolled. It wasn't that big.

But before I could stop him, he was on it like a leech. Holy cow, he locked
on. His little mouth practically made a clicking noise, he sealed around it
so fast. And damn, he was good!

He sucked the head and rolled his tongue around me. First he went shallow,
and then he went deeper. Jesus Christ. Where did he learn how to do this so
well? Huxley Fucking Baker? Tumblr clips and Reddit threads? Who fucking
cared? I was erect in seconds.

Lord, that boy was good. I didn't know what he'd been practicing on,
crayons or carrots, but all I could say was God bless carrots.

He went WAY too deep after I got fully hard, and he made a little gagging
noise, and he came up for air.

"Gag gift," I giggled. "Happy birthday there, Tiger."

"Sorry," he said, and he was honestly embarrassed. "You must think I'm dumb
and I'm little."

"Hey," I told him. "I'd never think that."

He looked skeptical, but lovely.

"It's okay, buddy," I told him with kindness, stroking his gay-sweaty
hair. "All boys gag a little when they first start doing it."

"Did you gag the first time, Nobey?"

"I sure did, Macky. I gagged A LOT the first time."

"Okay," he said. "Well, I'm gonna do some more."

I nodded and let him.

He sucked and he swirled and he bobbed and he practiced. I watched myself
go in and out of him. I couldn't help but pump just a little, which he
seemed to like. He nodded when I did it.

"Hey, Macky," I whispered. "You better stop now, Tiger, before the white
stuff comes out."

His eyes looked up in wide surprise. "You mean the sperm from your
testicles?" he asked with excitement.

"Yes," I said. "A LOT of sperm from my testicles is about to come out."

"Can I see it?" he asked eagerly. "Only not in my mouth?"

"Sure," I told him. "But it's coming out now. So quick. Hold out your
hands."

He cupped his palms in front of my cockhead, and I stroked my cock, still
wet with his boy spit, and in five, ten, fifteen quick strokes, I clenched
my teeth, and arched my back, and gasped at the inevitable beauty as my
semen squirted out all over his hands. We'd been headed toward this moment
for years, since gay-twirly kindergarten.

"Wow," he whispered. "It's gooey. And hot!"

He started to play with it a little. He sniffed it and shivered.

"Goosebumps," he said. "Just smelling it makes goosebumps!"

I smiled.

"Can I taste it," he asked me.

I nodded. He did.

"Ewww," he said, spitting. "It's gross, Nobey. ICK!"

I laughed. Led him to the sink in his bathroom and helped him rinse his
hands off.

"Are gay guys really supposed to eat it?" he asked me, horrified. "Huxley
Baker says he always eats his dad's."

Note to Self: Sleepover weekend with Macky and Huxley Baker.

"Well, Huxley Baker's probably WAY more used to it, that's all. Some boys
swallow it and some boys don't. Either way is okay."

"Do you eat it, Nobey?"

"Mmm-hmm," I nodded. "I eat it all the time."

"Whoof," he said. "I'm gonna need to practice that."

Another Note to Self: See sentence above.

We went back to cleaning and putting away his presents. After the house was
cleaned up, we snuggled up on the couch and streamed a new movie. He
cuddled more than usual. He rubbed his hand on my cock. He made me hard
again, because he knew this time I wanted him to. This had been a long time
coming, and nobody had to pretend anymore.

"Wanna suck ding-dongs again?" he asked me simply. "Nobody's home for
another two hours."

"Okay," I said. Because honestly, I needed him. I wanted to hear him gag
again. I wanted to see if the Vaseline was still slippery.

"Let's go lay down this time," Macky said. "Or hey! Let's take our clothes
off!"

"Macky," I said in a disapproving tone...

"Aw, come on," he pouted. "It's my birthday, Nobey. A kid gets his wishes."

I relented and nodded. I could never deny him.

"Yay!" he yelled, flitting down the hall with his shirt already off and his
pants around his ankles, my little gaybee birthday boy. Jesus Christ, I
thought. I hope he keeps secrets.

He swallowed it all, my second, smaller load.

"I didn't gag at all that time, did I, Nobey?" he asked me with pride.

"You did great, Macky. You did it like a big boy."

"Still tastes weird though."

"You'll get used to it," I promised. "Just practice. We all did."

He beamed with pride and he kissed me on the nose.

"Now about that Vaseline," I smiled, letting my finger drift back to where
I'd last felt it. Invading digit, hungry for a hole.

Macky giggled and he pushed back against me.

"Let's see what else I can give you for your birthday," I smiled at
him. "Let's see what else a big boy needs to learn."

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