Date: Sun, 15 Aug 2010 18:52:45 +0000
From: Josh Long <joshcock@hotmail.com>
Subject: Rob Boibeder chapter 2

Boibeder learned the boy's name, `Ash', and that, in the unlikely event
that his school would make enquiries about his absence, unlikely because it
was, Ash said, `a crap school an' he almost never went', his mother would
dismiss them, telling them that he'd gone to live with his father,
`somewhere up north.'

She had no more idea than Ash where his father was, Ash had never even seen
him, and he doubted if his mother had from the moment his father had found
out he'd got her pregnant.

End of chapter one



At the harbour there was no trouble getting Ash on board. The man at the
desk accepted without question what to Boibeder seemed the very lame excuse
of `my grandson decided at the last minute to come as well', pointing out
that the fare paid was for a car and up to four passengers and that
Boibeder had booked a two berth cabin so there was no accommodation problem
and no extra to pay.

Passport control barely even looked at their passports and they were on
board and in the cabin without anyone giving them as much as a second
glance.

Boibeder dumped his overnight bag on the lower bunk and planned his next
move in the bedding of Ash. The boy was, in Boibeder's opinion, perfect for
his needs. He liked his boys slender and Ash was certainly that. He was
about five six tall, fresh faced and with an easy smile, a very young
looking sixteen which held out the promise of nice, smooth thighs, an
essential for Boibeder's full enjoyment of a boy's charms.

Ash looked a shade uncertain but relieved as well when he took in the
sleeping arrangements. He would have a bunk to himself at least. His
earlier promise of `anything', though initially forgotten, had been nagging
at him once it was clear that he was actually being taken onto the ferry,
even though Boibeder had avoided any sexual hints or suggestions, Ash was
well aware that the deal he had struck had been taken as including his
body; the long, meaningful stares at his groin had made that clear, at
least to his subconscious mind, and although that had been dismissed as
unimportant and as `something that could be dealt with later' in the
urgency of his need to get away, he was now in a small cabin, alone with
the man to whom he had promised `anything'.  Like any other lad of his age,
Ash knew that there were men who went for boys in a sexual way. What would
he do if this guy, who was certainly old enough to be his grandfather for
real, understood `anything' to mean just that?

For his part, Boibeder had long since divined the boy's uncertainty, and
was enjoying playing on it. He was convinced the boy had no, or very
little, sexual experience, and was intending to maximise the pleasure of
leading him into the delights of man-boy sex, slowly, experience by
experience. Fate had dealt him the opportunity to indulge in his favourite
hobby – boy flesh – and he intended to make the most of it. If all
went well he would be enjoying this particular piece of flesh for some
time; if he played it wrong he'd only get it the once and he didn't want
that. At his age boys were not easy to get and he wanted to make the most
of the one he'd been given!

"Let's grab some munchies," he said, "And then raid the duty free, stock up
on tobacco. Fags as well, if you prefer them,"

Ash, who hadn't eaten for ages, smiled in relief. He really needed food and
the worries about how to keep his boxers on and not get abandoned in a
French port faded at the prospect of filling his stomach.

Brittany Ferries, being French, served good food, even in the cafeteria,
and Ash's eyes lit up at the choice presented to him, even though most of
what was on offer was outside his knowledge of food.

"I'd suggest the things that look like burgers," Boibeder said, aware of
the boy's problem.

"They're actually minced steak, not the crap you get from McDonalds."

Ash smiled at him.

"They look good, but so does the steak," he said. Steak did not form part
of his regular diet.

"Yeh," Boibeder agreed, "But be careful. The French like their steak still
going `moo', they show it the pan then put it on the plate. I call it
`raw'."

Ash shuddered. "The burger thingies, then," he grinned.

Boibeder had the salmon and ordered a bottle of Rudessheimer Rosengarten to
go with it. He was pretty sure young Ash hadn't indulged in wine and the
rose flavoured, fairly low alcohol German, would both taste good and not
knock him out.

In fact, as Boibeder hoped, Ash downed half the bottle with enjoyment as he
wolfed his meal. Enough alcohol to relax him and nowhere near enough to
have any adverse effects.

In the duty free, Boibeder grabbed a couple of packs of Golden Virginia and
asked Ash what he wanted.

Ash shrugged and looked embarrassed.

"I ain't got enough money for fags," he finally muttered.

"Not a problem," Boibeder smiled easily. "My part of our deal was to take
you along with me. That means I look after you."

Ash blushed, partly with the embarrassment of being treated in a way he'd
never been treated before and partly at the subtle reminder of their `deal'
and his promise of `anything'.

Boibeder sensed a good moment to nudge the boy into a slightly better
understanding of his part in the arrangement.

"You said `anything' remember," Boibeder said lightly, "So if I want to
treat you, you have to put up with it, don't you."

"You just bought me a meal," the boy responded, aware that all this
attention could be putting him further into a debt he might have to pay,
however much he didn't want to.

"Now I'm buying you fags," Boibeder said with finality. "Which ones you
want?"

"Don't know," Ash replied, shy and embarrassed again. "Don't usually buy
fags."

"But you do smoke them," Boibeder grinned back.

"Yeh, usually scrounge them off me mates or nick `em off the cow."

By `cow' Boibeder assumed the boy was referring to his mother.

"Well, now I'm buying them for you, so what you want?"

Ash looked at the array in front of him, totally bewildered by the choice.

"English fags not common in Spain," Boibeder pointed out, "Marlboro or
Chesterfield's the most common apart from the local brands."

"Packet of Marlboro, then," Ash acquiesced then gasped "What?" as Boibeder
tossed a carton of two hundred in the basket.

"Won't get any booze, `cos we dock at eight in the morning and then it's a
thousand mile drive. OK?"

Ash nodded.

"Unless you want something, of course?"

Ash shook his head. He wasn't used to drinking and the half bottle of wine
had already got him gently squiffy and there was the matter of his boxers
to think about, and the more Boibeder treated him the more Ash thought
about his boxers.

"Cool," Boibeder announced and paid for the purchase.

"Let's dump these in the cabin, nip outside for a smoke and then get some
kip, then," he suggested.

They were shivering a bit when they returned to the cabin, shivers that
didn't last long in the high inside temperatures. Ash, Boibeder noticed,
looked a little pensive, as though something was troubling him. It wasn't
hard to guess what – bedtime was nigh and that promise of `anything' was
probably rearing itself in the boy's consciousness.

"I'll just grab a quick wash, then you can shower and rinse out your socks,
knickers and shirt," Boibeder announced, deliberately not noticing the
boy's definable anxiety.

Ash looked puzzled and Boibeder explained patiently,

"You can't be carrying an extensive wardrobe in that little bag and I don't
fancy a smelly youth sitting beside me for the next thousand miles. You
wash out your kit while you're in the shower and drape them over the towel
rail. They'll be well dry by the morning."

Ash still looked confused so Boibeder clarified things for him, pointing
out that there was no-one to provide clean clothing for him in the Bay of
Biscay.

There was an ulterior motive to Boibeder's suggestion, of course. With his
underwear wet, Ash would have to sleep naked and Boibeder had already
formed his plans for stage one in redeeming Ash's promise of `anything'.

Boibeder was comfortably in his bunk when the boy came back from the small
cabin bathroom, towel wrapped round his waist. His top was, of course,
uncovered and Boibeder mentally licked his lips at the sight of the smooth,
slender chest with its two brown nubs. He noted with even more mental lip
licking that the boy's lower legs were almost innocent of hair and he
looked forward with sensual delight and desire to the prospect of revealing
the upper legs in all their cock hardening smoothness. Boibeder loved
smooth boy thighs.

Ash made his way to the bunks and went to start climbing the steps to his
upper one.

"Hold on, Ash," Boibeder said quietly.

Ash stopped and looked at him.

"Lose the towel."

Ash stood motionless, frozen by the undeniable realisation that the moment
had come when he would have to pay his bill or go back on his word and pull
out of the deal he had made. He could do that, he could refuse Boibeder's
demand.............and he could lose everything by doing so; everything
except his virginity. For the first time, standing, rooted to the floor no
more than a couple of feet away from the man who had rescued him, the man
who had bought him food and cigarettes, the man who could so easily reach
out and pull off the towel that still protected him, the understanding that
`anything' really might mean `everything' flooded his mind.

"Lose the towel, Ash," Boibeder said gently to the frozen boy, "I want to
look at you."

Ash didn't have to lose the towel, he knew that. He could refuse, he very
much wanted to refuse; he could protest that he hadn't meant that sort of
thing when he'd said `anything'; that he hadn't expected Boibeder to take
it like that; that he wasn't `that sort of boy'; there were any number of
things he could say, but Ash didn't say any of them. The words flashed
through his mind, but they never reached his mouth. He had no desire to be
left alone in a French ferry port; unable to speak one single word of
French he'd be in the hands of the police in no time at all, and that would
mean being sent back to England and, almost certainly, into some sort of
juvenile centre.

He didn't know that Boibeder would desert him, leave him stranded and
alone, but it was a risk Ash couldn't dare to take. The thought of exposing
himself to a man's eyes filled him with horror -he really wasn't `that sort
of boy', but the idea of being abandoned in a foreign country filled him
with something more than horror, it filled him with fear. What choice did
he have? Drop his towel and let the man perv his nakedness, or refuse, and
risk being left alone in France.

Fear won.

Trembling now, Ash slowly reached for the towel round his waist, he
hesitated, embarrassment flooding through him, reddening his face: what if
the man didn't like what he saw, if Ash's cock was too small to be
interesting to him? He grasped the towel, waited a second, pleading with
all his being for Boibeder to change his mind, say he didn't have to; but
when that never happened, he pulled his modesty protection open and then
let it drop to the floor, standing naked for the first time in front of a
man. Not only standing naked, but standing naked so a man could look at
him; look at all the bits Ash had never exposed to anyone before.

Boibeder looked; he let his eyes rove over the slender, naked boy, from his
blushing, embarrassed, hating every second of it, face, down over that
slender chest, narrow hips and slender, smooth thighs before focussing on
the centre, on a slim, uncut cock hanging softly over tight, smooth
balls. The boy's pubic bush added weight to Boibeder's long since formed
suspicions that Ash was nowhere near sixteen, he'd seen more growth on some
of the thirteen year olds who'd shared his bed in times past.

"Beautiful," he said softly. "You are one beautiful boy, Ash."

Ash blushed even redder. He wanted to cover himself, hide his groin from
Boibeder's unwavering gaze, but no-one had ever said he was beautiful
before and part of him was flattered and wanted to hear it again; a part
that Ash quelled even as it rose in his mind; he had to – he wasn't
`that sort of boy'. And not just because of that – the man's gaze and
words stirred something inside him, something he had no control over, and
it too all his will to keep himself from rising.

Boibeder tapped his quilt and Ash knew he was expected to sit beside the
man, but he was naked and boys, good boys, don't do that naked with a man
even if they are desperate for affection.

"Come on, Ash," Boibeder said quietly. "Come and give me a cuddle. A boy as
gorgeous as you needs cuddling."

One thing Ash did need was cuddling. If he thought about it he'd have been
unable to recall the last time he'd been cuddled, been shown any sign of
affection and he was desperate for affection. But he was naked! It wasn't
right. But neither was running away, promising a man `anything' if he'd
take him with him. Why had he done that? He so wished he'd never said it!

Almost in a trance Ash eased himself as chastely as possible, onto the
narrow bunk beside Boibeder. He tried to avoid contact, but in that narrow
space that was just not possible. Even less possible when Boibeder wrapped
his arms round Ash's slender frame and pulled him in close. Even on the
narrow bunk, Ash managed to retain his chastity. Cuddled close but only the
top half, and keeping himself as rigidly still as possible, scarcely even
breathing, he somehow kept their legs from touching and Boibeder made no
move to intrude on that fractional remaining space.

The warmth of the contact shot through both of them, though it was a
different thrill for both. For Boibeder it was the electric thrill of
having a naked boy in his arms with the certainty that sex would eventually
follow. For Ash it was the thrill of fear, fear of the sexual contact he
felt sure would follow, a contact he so desperately did not want to happen;
but a contact one, uncontrollable, part of his body was trying to think
differently about.

Boibeder held him for just a long moment, and then gave him a chaste kiss
on the forehead.

"Good boy, Ash," he whispered, "Good, beautiful boy."

Then he patted the boy lightly on the shoulder and smiled.

"Be a bit uncomfortable for you to stay here all night, nice, but not good
for sleeping."

Ash eased out the moment Boibeder let him go, thankful that he could get
away; that, horrible as it had been, sitting there naked, nothing more had
happened.  He went up to his bunk , a mixture of thoughts and feelings
swirling through him.

He'd hated it, hadn't he? Hated having to stand naked for Boibeder to stare
at; hated having to get into bed with him and be cuddled. Yes, of course he
had! He just wasn't the sort of boy who did those things; but he just had,
and somewhere, something sneaked into his mind that Boibeder holding him
like that hadn't been as bad as he'd feared it would be; that Boibeder's
arm round his naked shoulder had been almost nice, in some dreadful,
forbidden, way. And being told he was `beautiful' and given that chaste
little kiss had been almost rather, he hesitated, trying to find the right
word and settled for `comforting', hadn't it?

"I'll certainly have a very pleasant dream, Ash," Boibeder said as Ash hid
his nudity under the concealing duvet, "I hope you do as well."

If `anything' was going to mean letting `that sort of stuff' happen, Ash
thought as he drifted off to sleep, perhaps it wouldn't be too bad. As long
as it was just that and not things that boys like him, real boys not poofs,
because he wasn't one of those, proper straight boys like he was, wouldn't
do, couldn't do; yeh, he could manage that: not too much of the naked stuff
though, just now and again, so he could keep his side of the deal.

His hand slipped, unbidden, down to his hardening groin. Why was it getting
hard? Ash didn't want it to get hard, didn't want to think about the
possibility of it getting hard because he'd just shown it off, been stared
at naked and told he looked beautiful. Nice boys, good boys, real boys
wouldn't stiffen up because they'd been admired naked; by a girl yes, but
not by a man. He forced himself to let go of it, to think of anything,
anything that had nothing to do with sex, sex of any sort, and slid into
safe, comforting, sleep.



Boibeder lay quietly, waiting to hear any telltale sounds of young Ash
dealing with what Boibeder hoped would be a fully erect young cock, but he
heard nothing. He'd noticed the slightly fuller equipment on the boy when
he'd climbed into the upper bunk, and he smiled to himself in
satisfaction. He knew he could have taken the boy while they were together
in his bunk. A hand slipping between them would not have been welcomed, but
it would have encountered no resistance. That same hand could have moved
down the boy's back, cupping a tight, young buttock and easing their groins
together. Ash would have let it happen, Boibeder knew the boy would be
terrified of being dumped, left in France alone, and would give up his cock
to avoid that from happening, but Boibeder wanted more than that, he wanted
the boy as a regular, willing bed partner, and he wouldn't get that by
forcing him. Ash needed to be led into wanting to give his cock, and,
Boibeder gave his lips a mental lick, not only his cock, not having it
taken against his will.

Unlike Ash, Boibeder did dream of sex.

The morning, Boibeder dreamt, would be different.

In his dream he woke early, about half past six, and slipped quietly into
the small bathroom to shower and shave.

He returned to the still dark cabin, though a grey rather than black,
dark. He could make out the shape of Ash in the upper bunk as he made his
naked way across the cabin.

At the bunk he quietly moved the ladder to the upper bunk so it was level
with where he guessed the middle of the boy's thighs would be and softly
climbed a couple of steps so his waist was level with the bed.

He admired the sleeping boy for a moment or two, both admiring the young
face and slender shoulders that were visible above the quilt but also
assessing the boy's position.

Gently he lifted the quilt away from the boy and eased it down till Ash's
equipment was exposed.

Ash was lying half on his back and half on his side, so his groin was open
to view, his soft, uncut cock lying idle across one ball and down to just
touch his thigh.

Boibeder leaned forward and took the boy's limpness in his mouth, relishing
the feel and taste of boy after such a long time.

One of Boibeder's greatest pleasures was bringing a boy up hard in his
mouth. To take the limp, softness and feel it swell on his tongue, growing
and hardening to its youthful glory. To do it to a boy who was still
sleeping and imagine the dreams that passed through his mind as his cock
was eased into growth in a warm, wet cavern, was a mental and physical near
orgasm for Boibeder.

Slowly he felt Ash's delight stiffening in his mouth and he gently started
to suckle it, increasing its hardness and bringing a small moan from Ash as
his own sudden dream became more intense.

The little, involuntary movements of the boy's body, a slight easing
forwards and backwards of his hips and a slow stretching of a thigh told
Boibeder that Ash was moving from sleep to wake, that the boy's body knew
it was experiencing fellatio for the first ever time and was sending
messages to the brain.

Experience told Boibeder that now was the time to accelerate, to add even
more feelings to the young flesh he was already delighting so that when the
young mind woke it would demand a continuance. He reached out his right
hand and stroked the thigh nearest him, a silken smooth length of boy
perfection, slender and curving from the knee, swelling so gently as it
reached the top and Boibeder followed the contours with his seductive hand.

A sensual overload opened Ash's eyes and his brain to the sucking and
stroking and realisation came as his eyes focussed on Boibeder's head as it
gave him wave after never known before pleasure as it sucked his rampant
cock. The hand stroking so lovingly at his thigh was both another sensual
delight and a calming, comforting reassurance. He was not being raped, he
was being physically adored. It never even occurred to him to demand it
stop, that he was a good boy, a straight boy and he didn't do these sorts
of things with men. It did occur to him that it felt good, no, it felt
wonderful, and that if this was where `anything' was taking him then it was
ok by him. What he did not want to happen was for Boibeder to stop. Ash was
a boy, and boys of his age spunked in the mornings and Ash wanted to
spunk. He wanted to shoot his load and he wanted to do it while his cock
was out of his control in a warm, wet heaven.

Boibeder, knowing Ash was now his, moved his stroking hand up the boy's
thigh until he reached the smooth balls that lay between them. Softly he
kneaded them for Ash while he continued sucking him. He knew Ash hadn't
wanked last night and probably not since yesterday morning, and his young
balls would be full of cream panting to get released. The feeling of
fingers that were not his own, teasing and kneading his sac moved Ash
rapidly to climax.

"I'm gonna shoot," he muttered in warning as he felt his spunking build
down deep.  He never dreamed Boibeder would keep his mouth there, that he'd
even increase his sucking and ball playing knowing Ash would spurt soon.

Boibeder too, had felt the warning signs of cum on the way. The tightening
of the boy's balls, the extra hardening of the cock in his mouth, the
tenseness gripping the young body as sperm burst free from their storage
and rampaged up the four and a half slender rigid boyinches to erupt in his
mouth, filling it with the essence of boy as the cock jerked hard three or
four times, then twitched again and again as it ejected the last drops.

Boibeder welcomed the teenage cream into his mouth, holding and savouring
it as he milked out the last little dribbles before allowing it to trickle
down his throat.

He kissed the softening tip and looked up at Ash and smiled.

"Morning Ash," he said softly. "Hope you liked your alarm call."

 Ash shut his eyes and without thinking, nodded. His brain was trying to
come to terms with the reality that he'd just been sucked off by a man, and
he'd loved it.

Those first post orgasmic moments, Boibeder knew, were vital with a first
time boy, and he was under no illusion that this was anything other than
Ash's first time. Left alone the boy could well feel guilt, come down hard
from the super high of his induced cumming. He might even resolve to never
do it again, and that was something Boibeder had always tried to
prevent. Let the boy know he was special, that he was appreciated and that
he'd been wonderful.

"Thanks," Boibeder said, looking the boy in the eyes. "That was fantastic,
thanks." And he put his head on the boy's hip so his lips were just
brushing the rapidly softening boycock. He stroked the boy's delicious
thigh again to emphasise just how much he appreciated being allowed to do
what he had done.

Ash let out a long, slow sigh and muttered, "Shit," in the way boys do when
they can't describe what they feel.

Boibeder kissed the now soft flesh and moved away, putting a hand on Ash's
waist and looking again directly at him.

"Time to get up, dressed and out for breakfast."

Then he smiled, "Well, your breakfast, anyway. I've just had mine," he
paused, then added, "And it was absolutely delicious," said with a big
grin.

Ash could do nothing but grin back.

"Glad you enjoyed it." He didn't know why he said it, but he realised he
actually meant it! It had been a shock to wake with his cock in a man's
mouth, his exposed, naked body stroked by a man's hand and then to have
that hand and mouth build him to a climax that the man had swallowed with
evident grateful pleasure. The morning ejaculation that would normally have
been squirted into a tissue which would have been screwed up and
semi-guiltily flushed away had instead been pumped into the mouth that was
sucking him, savoured and swallowed. The man had eaten his essence, the
fruit of his orgasm had been enjoyed, not wasted, and the man had thanked
him for it! Yes, of course Boibeder had sucked him because he wanted to,
because he wanted his cock, Ash knew that, but he also knew, or thought he
knew, that part of the man's pleasure had been in trying to make sure that
Ash enjoyed it as well. Did Boibeder have the faintest idea just how much
that meant to an unloved and fugitive boy? Could he even begin to
understand what it meant to Ash that he'd not just made him cum, but eaten
his cum as though it was the most valuable and delicious food in the world?
Ash had just had his first ever sexual experience, but it didn't feel like
sex to Ash. Sex was when he wanked, thinking about sticking his cock in
some fantasy girl's slit and then flushing away the evidence. Kids at
school had talked dirty about their random encounters and how good it was
to fuck a girl, but they had no idea just how good it was to lay naked for
a man, to be sucked and stroked, to know that the man was doing all he
could to make you feel good, to feel wanted. Ash hovered around `to feel
loved' but he didn't go that far, going there was dangerous, no-one loved
Ash. No, this wasn't sex, this was some sort of amazing sharing and Ash
hoped against hope that there was more, that he wouldn't be cast aside now
he'd been given a glimpse of what might impossibly be.

That was the dream, but even as he was dreaming it, Boibeder knew reality
didn't work like that; and when he woke he knew with total certainty, that
if he did what he'd done in his dream, he'd lose the boy for good.