Date: Mon, 14 Jun 2010 12:14:13 +0000
From: Josh Cock <joshcock@hotmail.com>
Subject: Say Please

All the usual disclaimers. Hope you enjoy

				Say Please

Danny was in need, well, to be more accurate, Danny was desperate. He had a
craving that seemed to dominate his lower stomach, to make his groin ache
and although the ache was physical, it also filled his mind; he could think
of little else: every few seconds the craving bloomed in his head; Danny
needed a boy: he knew the need, the craving, would not go away until he had
one; wanking might temporarily empty his balls, take away the ache in his
balls, but it would not take away the need; only a boy could do that.

It was months since Danny last had a boy, a smooth thighed sixteen year old
who'd satisfied his need for a brief while. It should have been for longer,
but, willing fuck flesh as the boy was, it was only in bed that he was any
good.  A limp wristed queen of a boy, he'd had more moods than a girl and
Danny didn't go for that sort of boy. Danny liked his boys to be real boys,
if he fancied girls he go for one with tits and a cunt, not one with a cock
and balls. Yes, if he had Anthony here now, he'd fuck the boy, fuck him
senseless; but he'd do it out of need, and once he'd spunked in the lisping
queen's gaping hole he'd be disgusted with himself and want the boy gone,
wish he'd had the resolve not to give in to the demand from his balls to
satisfy his craving in that slack, over fucked, but very available, hole.

He'd have loved to have done it with Gary; Gary was a real boy, a good
laugh as well as being good looking, hornily good looking, but Gary, good
mate as he was, good fun to be around, was straight, and had no interest at
all in cock, even for experimental purposes. Danny regretted that; he'd
wanked many times dreaming of Gary, wishing he was there in bed, using his
hands and mouth on Danny's cock, but, in reality, he didn't even know what
Gary's cock looked like, let alone felt like!

On the surface there seemed no reason why Danny should be in such need; a
fair haired, well built, good looking, almost seventeen, sixteen year old,
he was exactly the sort of boy who'd be welcomed into any cock lover's bed;
and that was where Danny's problem lay. Danny liked boys not men, boys
around his own age. He'd give or take a year or two, so his interests were
concentrated on boys between fourteen and eighteen, and boys of that age
were subjected, as Danny himself was, to the mountainous weight of peer
pressure. Boys of sixteen could not suggest sex to other boys, the
consequences would be disastrous.  He could, of course, make secret
arrangements with a queen like Anthony for a fuck, but it had to be secret,
he could never be seen around with someone like that, not if he wanted to
retain his image. He could `come out', announce to all and sundry that he
was queer, and that would be the end of his social life. Friends like Gary
would be ok with it, but even then there would be a slight distancing, free
and easy banter would be less free and easy; a degree of care and caution
would replace it, just in case any suspicion might arise that Danny was
`trying something on', or `making a move' on one of the others.

A few boys had come Danny's way since he was thirteen; the first ones had
been easy, boys his own age, not gay, just boys who had roaring hormones
and ever hard cocks that needed exercising, just like Danny. They'd wanked
each other for fun and giggled about it afterwards; but by the time Danny
was fourteen it wasn't just for fun and he'd stopped giggling about it
afterwards. By then Danny knew he was interested only in boys, not just for
a bit of fun, but properly interested; girls had no appeal for him, boys
did; Danny was gay and Danny knew it; and, very importantly, Danny was
happy with it.

As his teenage years progressed he found fewer and fewer boys to play with;
there may have been other boys like him at school, gay boys who, like
Danny, kept their preferences carefully concealed, terrified their cover
would be blown and their lives made hell, but Danny had no way of knowing
them, nor they him.

At college he'd come across Anthony, a boy in Danny's drama group who made
no secret of the fact that he was gay, and Danny had leapt at the chance of
sex, his first real sex. Within a few weeks Danny had fucked him, his first
ever fuck but certainly not Anthony's! It had been fun for a while, the
appeal of Anthony's mouth and arse outweighing the fact that Danny just did
not like the boy; he hated the affected, girlish behaviour; the limp
wristed, lisping, queenish queerness of him. Danny was queer, he knew that,
but he wasn't that sort of queer!

Anthony was always flirting, behaving suggestively towards anyone and
everyone, even the college lecturers! The end, for Danny, had come when
Anthony had cancelled an evening's fucking because he had something, or, to
be precise, someone, else to do.

"He's a real man, dear," Anthony had lisped, "And he really knows how to
treat a girl."

That was enough for Danny! It meant a return to imaginative wanking, but he
wanted nothing more to do with that teenage queen!

It had done something else as well; it had ruined Danny's plans for the
summer holiday. He'd had the idea of busking in southern France with
Anthony, earning a few Euros by day and shagging at night, but that was out
of the question now. He'd floated the idea to Gary, minus the shagging bit,
of course, but he wasn't interested, so Danny was going to have to go on
his own, or not at all. On his own it would be, then.

In a few minutes time he had his former drama teacher coming round to talk
over his busking plans and, hopefully, suggest some material he might
use. The guy was in his late thirties and had been a good laugh when Danny
was at school, and developed some good comedy sketches for himself and
Gary, so Danny had summoned up the courage to phone him, outline his plans
and ask for help. The response had been encouraging and now Danny was
waiting for him to arrive.

It was too late to have the wank his balls so urgently demanded, and Danny
was still wondering if he should change out of the brief shorts he was
wearing, the weather being distinctly warm, when the door bell rang.

"Good job I didn't give in and start tossing," Danny thought as he got up
to answer the door.

Danny didn't notice the appreciative stare his full, smooth, thighs got
from his visitor when he opened the door, nor the later, quick glances that
checked the outline of his ample package, clearly evident through the thin
cotton of his shorts.

Danny outlined his plans once fags had been lit and pleasantries exchanged.

"Why south of France?" Rob, his former drama teacher asked.

"No real reason," Danny confessed, "Just fancy the sun and beaches, I
guess."

"Fair enough," Rob conceded, "But it's expensive and they'll be an awful
lot of competition."

"Ah," Danny said, "Hadn't thought of that."

"My advice, for what it's worth, is that you think of Amsterdam."

"Amsterdam?" Danny echoed; "Why?"

"Well, for one thing, there's the cafes; no problem with getting something
to smoke."

Danny grinned; he did enjoy the occasional joint and was well aware that
his visitor knew that.

"Talking of which," Danny took the opportunity to say, "Fancy sharing one?"

"Love to," Rob smiled, "But I've got to drive home, so you just go ahead
and I'll just feel jealous."

"You sure?" Danny asked, more out of politeness than anything else.

"Go ahead," Rob grinned, and sat back to watch Danny roll his joint, mainly
because Danny was doing it on a small mat resting on his knees and Rob had
a nice view of the boy's legs.

"What else, apart from weed?" Danny asked when he'd finished concentrating
on his creation.

"Promise you won't be mad at me," Rob said.

"Why should I be?"

Rob took a deep breath before saying what he was thinking; he could be
wrong, though he didn't think he was. He'd long been convinced that Danny
was not the `normal', straight, teenager he appeared to be on the
surface. There was no one, single thing about the boy that had given Rob
that impression, more a collection of seemingly insignificant things, a
feeling that Danny was trying just a bit too hard to appear like his
peers. It was an act that may have convinced them, but not Rob. Had he not
been conducting a very pleasant affair with a boy a bit older than Danny, a
boy who, like Danny, there was not the slightest hint of gayness about, Rob
would have tested out his ideas about Danny in a practical way.

"I reckon you'd go down a bomb in the gay clubs," he said.

Danny stared for a second before squeaking,

"You what?"

"Good looking boy, superb legs if I may say so; you'd get plenty of work
and lots of appreciation."

"But.........." Danny started to say.

"But you're not gay, that what you're going to say?" Rob asked and Danny
blushed.

"Nooo," Danny said slowly; he didn't have the faintest idea how his former
teacher had worked out he was gay, but he obviously had and there didn't
seem any point in denying it.

"Cool," Rob grinned; "You just didn't think anyone knew, that it?"

"Something like that," Danny confessed. "How did you know?"

"I'm a drama teacher and an actor, remember," Rob smiled; "Sorta used to
using body language to create ideas in audiences' minds, and reading body
language in others."

"Yeh," Danny said, not really following. He knew he'd never behaved in
anything like a `gay' way, he wasn't gay in that sense, not like Anthony.

"The games you and Gary used to play," Rob continued.

"They were just games, having a laugh," Danny protested. True, the boys had
often mock embraced, mock bummed, but only as a laugh, nothing else.

"And they made everyone laugh," Rob agreed; "And for Gary, they were only
ever just games."

"So what gave you the idea they weren't just games for me as well?"

"Just a feeling I got," Rob said; "And don't worry, Danny, no-one else had
even the slightest suspicion that they were anything other than a comedy
show."

"Thank god for that," Danny said, feelingly.

"Don't worry about it," Rob reassured the boy, "I doubt if even Gary had
any idea you fancied him rotten."

"Fancy," Danny corrected with a grin, wondering why he was giving away such
a secret.

"Had a few wanks over him, have you," Rob grinned; "Can't say I blame you."

Danny looked up, had he heard right?

Rob noticed the look, but chose to ignore it; there was no need to rush
things. He'd slide a few more hints Danny's way, and if the boy chose to
pick up on them, all well and good; if not – well, he'd not planned on
trying to bed the boy before he'd got the call inviting him round, so it
wasn't as though he was going to miss out on something he'd been hoping
for.

"Dutch are much more open minded than we are," Rob returned to his
suggestion that Danny went to Amsterdam for his busking holiday; "Age of
consent is thirteen for a starter."

"Thirteen? You kidding?" Danny gasped, wondering what things would have
been like for him if it'd been legal when he was that age.

"No, straight up," Rob said, then grinned at his own, unintentional pun,
"Bet it is for a fair few of them," he added, so Danny understood the pun
as well.

"Lucky fuckers," Danny obligingly grinned.

Rob decided not to follow up the offered, if unintentional, opening and
enquire as to how lucky Danny had been up to now, and started talking about
the material the boy might use in Amsterdam's gay clubs.

"What sort of stuff had you thought about doing, Danny?" he asked.

"Nothing in gay clubs," Danny said, that idea had never entered his head.

"You got a decent voice," Rob mused, "And you can make noises on a guitar."
Both of those statements were true; Danny sang well and played the
classical, acoustic guitar fairly reasonably.

Danny nodded.

"Can you do `House of the Rising Sun'? Rob asked, knowing the boy could,
he'd heard him perform it several times.

"Yeh," Danny nodded, "You've heard me."

"True," Rob agreed. "Do it for me now, would you?"

Danny shrugged, got up, collected his guitar, put one foot on a chair,
strummed a chord and sang.



"There is a house in New Orleans

They call the Rising Sun

And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy

And God I know I'm one



My mother was a tailor

She sewed my new blue jeans

My father was a gamblin' man

Down in New Orleans"

"Nice one," Rob stopped the boy. "Now try it like this." He handed Danny a
piece of paper he'd been scribbling on while the boy had been singing.

Danny took the paper, read it, looked at Rob, back at the paper, read it
again, and gasped,

"Sing this?"

"Same tune, obviously, let's see how it sounds."

Danny shrugged, propped up the paper so he could read it while he strummed
his acoustic, and went for it.

"There is a house in New Orleans

They call the Rising Sun

And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy

And God I know I'm one.

My lover was a sailor man

Took off my new blue jeans

My father was a pimpin' man

Sold me in New Orleans

I'm goin' back to New Orleans

Back to the Rising Sun

I'm gonna take some sweet poor boy

And fuck him up the bum."

"I can't sing stuff like that!" Danny protested, "Not to an audience."

"You'd sing it for a laugh, wouldn't you? Imagine it was a drama class."

"Well," Danny said slowly, the idea forming in his mind, "Maybe, but it's a
bit, well, you know."

"Blatant," Rob agreed. "Yeh, it is. It might do for a final piece, or an
encore sort of thing, but there's loads of traditional songs where you only
have to tweak a word or two to make them suggestively gay."

"Such as?" Danny wasn't convinced.

"Such as `Kingston Town'," Rob offered; "I've gotta leave a pretty boy in
Kingston Town, just change `girl' for `boy', easy."

"True," Danny agreed, "Could do the same with `Scarborough Fair'."

"And loads of others," Rob pushed. "And if the audience goes for it, you
just make it more blatant, more obvious."

"I gotta fuck a little boy in Kingston Town," Danny sang and then burst
into giggles, "I like it; it's so simple."

"Yup," Rob agreed, "Just get him to bend over and push it in."

Danny giggled again; he should have learned long ago not to feed his former
drama teacher lines, the guy never missed a chance!

"Serious, though," Danny said when he'd stopped giggling, "You think it
would work?"

"Danny," Rob said, changing his tone, "You'd only have to sit on a stage in
an Amsterdam gay club, wearing those shorts and you could sing baa baa
black sheep to rapturous applause."

Slowly the import of Rob's words sank into Danny's brain. At first he
thought he'd inadvertently revealed more than he should have, he had
nothing on under his shorts and, for a moment, thought Rob might have been
able to see under them while he was singing, but, as his fingers
instinctively checked he realised there was no gap, no view available. But
it wasn't the first reference Rob had made about his legs, he'd mentioned
them almost the moment he'd arrived. And, come to think about it, Rob had
looked a lot, looked at his legs and even a bit higher than just his legs.

In drama classes, at school, Rob had encouraged the boys to wear shorts for
movement lessons – did he like boys' legs? And then, this evening, he'd
come right out with the gay stuff; he known Danny was gay and Gary wasn't,
how had he known, not guessed, but known, that?

The need Danny had been feeling before Rob arrived surfaced
again. Admitting he was gay, talking about performing in gay clubs and
making up crude lyrics had made him remember the ache in his balls and the
urge to have his orgasm brought on by something other than his own right
hand. Danny had never been with a man, never thought about going with a
man, but he really was in need, desperate need, and if Rob was gay? Just
this once, just to ease the ache, Danny told himself; Rob wasn't some
mincing queen like Anthony; he could do it with Rob.

Make the offer, he told himself, and if the guy is interested, then go for
it.

Danny put the guitar down, moved over to where he'd left his makings and
picked them up.

"You sure you don't want to join me?" he asked.

"Love to, Danny, but, like I said, I gotta drive home, and I'm not doing
that stoned."

"You have to go home?" Danny asked.

"Small matter of getting some kip," Rob grinned.

"Mother's away for the week," Danny said, trying to sound casual, make it
seem as though his offer was only related to the smoke, "So you could
always crash here."

"You sure, Danny?" Rob was caught slightly off balance; he hadn't expected
that; and what did Danny mean by it? Just because the boy was gay it didn't
mean he had to be suggesting sex was on offer as well as weed. But would he
suggest Rob stay overnight just to share a joint? He would if it was Gary
he was talking to, but was it the sort of thing a sixteen year old would
suggest to a man in his mid thirties?

Rob certainly had no objections to spending an evening, and even a night,
with Danny. The boy was good looking, had lovely legs and a decent enough
package under those revealing shorts. Even if it was only to spend some
more time enjoying looking at those legs, it would be time well spent.

"No problem," Danny assured him, slightly disappointed that Rob hadn't
seemed more keen, but he hadn't refused either.

The atmosphere was thick with tension and uncertainty. Neither man nor boy
knew beyond doubt that the other was open to what both wanted. Though Rob
knew the boy was gay, he had no idea if Danny was experienced, or if his
thoughts went beyond boys of his own age; and he had no wish to insult the
boy by assuming he was an easy lay. Danny, for his part, had no idea if Rob
was gay or not: he was obviously not homophobic, his easy acceptance of
Danny's sexual orientation and his suggestions as to how Danny might profit
from them by working Amsterdam gay clubs, was evidence of that, but it
didn't prove he was gay.

Rob broke the silence that was threatening to become dangerous; dangerous
in that it would have been easy for both to retreat into, to avoid the risk
of rejection resulting from uncertain anxiety.

"I guess it gives me a chance to feast my eyes on those gorgeous legs for a
bit longer," he grinned; "So, as long as you've got no ideas about covering
them up, I'll happily accept your kind offer."

Danny flushed, the tension broken.

"You really think I've got nice legs?" he asked.

"I certainly do," Rob said with some feeling; and then, guessing the
atmosphere had eased enough for him to move towards suggesting what he
wanted to suggest, added, "I've thought that since I first saw them a
couple of years ago."

Danny fought back the urge to demand why Rob hadn't said something like
that before, back when Danny was at school, but he didn't have the courage
to do that; it would have been too much like offering himself on a plate,
and, desperate for sex as he was, Danny was no slut.

"In that case," Danny said instead, "I'll stay in shorts," and, feeling
nail bitingly daring, added, "Just for you."

Rob looked at the boy, saw how tense he was and guessed at the sort of
turmoil that was going on in Danny's head. The boy had confessed to being
gay, and must be wondering if Rob was intending to take advantage of that
confession. Perhaps he was hoping Rob would do just that; perhaps he was
praying that Rob wouldn't, that he wouldn't have to say `no' because the
question would not be asked. It was time to help the boy out, let the boy
know that if anything happened it would be Danny's choice, and if Danny's
choice was that nothing should happen, Rob would not be offended.

"Please don't be offended, Danny," Rob said quietly as he finished rolling
his smoke, "But I think you are one gorgeous boy; not just your legs, but
all over: and if you ever feel in real need, really desperate need, and you
just want someone, anyone, to deal with things for you, all you have to do
is give me a ring."

Danny concentrated on his almost completed joint; he didn't dare look over
at Rob, and didn't dare say what was in his mind.

"I understand you may not have the faintest inclination to go with someone
my age, Danny, so I won't be offended if the phone doesn't ring. I just
thought you ought to be aware that, whilst my actions towards you may be
totally honourable, my thoughts most certainly are not!"

Rob was about to continue by saying that they should now get on with
planning Danny's busking tour, when Danny, still staring at his joint,
said, very softly,

"Ring."

He flicked his eyes up at Rob to see how his whisper had been taken and saw
Rob looking at him, his whole face a question. Fractionally, Danny nodded
his head, confirming that the answer to Rob's unspoken question was `yes',
and, as a smile started to form on the man's face, said, a big grin growing
on his own, washing away all remaining doubts,

"Ring, ring, ring!"

Rob lifted an arm in a silent invite and Danny rose from the stool he'd
been perched on, crossed the room and joined Rob on the two-seater sofa,
Rob's arm round his shoulder.

They smoked in silence while outside, the evening, summer sun set and
inside, the light thickened around them.

There was no need for words at the moment, indeed, words would have been
inappropriate as each was deep in his own thoughts. Rob's hand eased down
from Danny's shoulder, down his back to first softly squeeze the boy's hip,
and then slip under his tee shirt to caress warm, silky, teenage skin.

The boy moved, just a fraction, but enough to indicate the to the hand that
roved over his waist and lower ribs that it was not unwelcome, but not
enough to demand more. Danny's thoughts were equally equivocal; he wanted
sex and his need had led him to make his offer, but he still had
reservations: he'd never been with a man, never wanted to go with a man,
never even thought about going with a man. Would it be good, would he enjoy
it, or would he have to just accept it until his balls were emptied and his
need satisfied? If Rob had been a boy, then their clothes would be, by now,
scattered across the floor, their mouths locked and their tongues twisting
together; but Rob wasn't a boy and they were still both dressed.

There was still time to change his mind, to admit to Rob that boys, and
only boys, were what he needed, but the hand on his skin felt good and his
cock was slowly lengthening inside his shorts and all his doubts about
doing things with a man were not quenching his need.

In a moment it would be too late, those roving fingers were once again on
his waist, tips gently starting their probe at the waistband of his shorts,
and, as soon as they went further, under the elastic, they would encounter
no further textile defences and Danny would have no alternative but to
surrender. A boy who wore nothing under his thin, cotton shorts could not
pretend he wanted his cock to remain untouched; especially as Danny's lack
of underwear was not the only secret those questing fingers would uncover.

The hand did not move further south; it stayed, resting on Danny's hip,
while its owner finished his smoke.

Danny did not take his one remaining chance of withdrawal; he let events
make his decision for him, his cock now dominating his brain.

Rob finished his smoke and moved his now free right hand to Danny's thigh,
a place he had many times thought about stroking in the two years Danny had
been a student in his drama class. It was all he'd dreamed it would be;
warm, firm and smooth; perfect teenage boy flesh. His hand moved on and up,
under the hem of the boy's shorts, searching for, and finding, Danny's now
solid length of joy.

It was big, big enough to take Rob a little by surprise, but he had enough
experience of teenage boys to know that no two are equipped in the same
way. Rob never minded what he found, in fact, one of his pleasures in
seducing boys was the discovery of what they kept in their underwear and
brought out to play with at night, in the morning, or, in most cases,
both. Large or small, thick or thin, cut or uncut made no real difference
to Rob; it was the availability that mattered, the availability and the
cream that it would produce.

Danny's possession was, as far as Rob was concerned, about as close to
perfection as a boy could get. Rob always felt a thrill when his hand first
closed round a boy, no matter what the boy had, Rob liked it, but some he
liked a bit more than others. Cocks that were always willing to let him
indulge in them were special, he got to appreciate the individual ways they
liked to be treated and always tried his best to ensure that the cock got
what it wanted. Danny had, for Rob, a wonderful cock; long, at least seven
inches he guessed, thick and fully foreskinned, it was a cock to dream
about, a cock that would need lots of attention, a cock that would respond
to all sorts of care and stimulation; a cock Rob longed to swallow and make
spurt.

Danny gave a little gasp, no more than a sudden intake of breath through an
open mouth, when Rob's hand found his treasure; only a little gasp, but
enough to tell Rob the boy was eager for more, or at least the boy's cock
was, and Rob could tell from the way it jerked in his hand that it was
cock, not brain, that was in charge now.

Somehow Rob resisted the urge to bring the boy out from his shorts and go
straight down on the hard tube of flesh; instead he pulled the boy in
closer moving his lips close to those that were still parted from the
intake of breath that had followed the handling of his pride.

Danny held still for a moment, then allowed his head to be moved closer to
the man's, keeping his lips parted to accept the tongue he knew would probe
between them, accepting and then welcoming it, meeting it with his own and
surrendering himself to the fullness of a deep, sexual, kiss.

While their tongues were twisting Rob eased Danny out from his thin, cotton
covering; loving and admiring the hard, blood filled tube with his fingers,
knowing that the feverishly kissing boy was now his to do with as he
wished.

Danny knew it as well, his body was groaning for the sex it so desperately
needed, and any reservations about that sex being with a man and not a boy
were dismissed, at least until orgasms had sated that need.

"Beautiful cock, Danny," Rob whispered when the frantic kissing had ended
and the boy's head rested on the man's shoulder.

"Thanks," Danny accepted the compliment. All boys want their equipment to
be approved of and Danny was no exception.

Rob held the hard, pulsing, item upright with his thumb; admiring it with
his eyes as he had earlier admired it with his hand. It was, indeed,
beautiful: long and thick, its prominent head still skin covered, its shaft
thickening half way down before tapering just a little as it neared the
base.

Danny looked as well; proud, as a boy should be, of his favourite toy, he
was pleased that Rob was admiring it, holding it upright to see it in its
full glory.

"Big," Rob complimented.

"Seven and a quarter," Danny said proudly. It was bigger than any of the
boys Danny had been with, even when he was thirteen he had more to hold
than the two older boys he had once played with.

"Probably just as well Gary's straight," Rob grinned, "That'd have made his
eyes really water."

Danny sniggered, again pleased at the compliment. He hadn't made Anthony's
eyes water, but that boy had taken more cocks up his always open arse than
Danny had even seen, let alone enjoyed.

"Wouldn't have minded trying, though," Danny said, a little wistfully; he
would have liked to be more than just good mates with his school friend.

"Can't win them all," Rob consoled him, "Some boys just don't know what
they're missing."

"I know what I've been missing," Danny grinned, pumping blood into his cock
to make it jerk against Rob's thumb.

"Me too," Rob agreed, shifted position and went down to take those seven
inches in his mouth.

Rob loved having cock, teenage cock, in his mouth. He'd sucked his first
boy at the age of fourteen and become instantly addicted to the feel of the
tube of warm, responsive flesh in his mouth, and to the spurts of slippery
cream that came from it. He'd learned quickly, so very quickly, that when
he sucked a boy he controlled the boy's whole existence in a way it was
impossible to do by hand, that a boy being properly sucked is a boy in
bliss.

Danny was no different from any other boy that Rob had sucked; he, like all
those before him, put his very soul into his cock once that cock was in the
warm, wet, heaven of Rob's cock loving mouth.

Rob didn't swallow him, not at first: he took just the head between his
lips and slowly swirled his tongue round it, with the occasional flick over
the tip of the slit covering foreskin; the lightness of his lips and tongue
making the boy want more, need more.

Rob gave him more, clamping his lips just tightly enough around the head to
be able to use those lips to peel back Danny's foreskin, not all the way,
just far enough to expose the super sensitive glans, which he then washed
with more tongue swirls, interspersed with gentle prods at the uncovered
slit, prods that made Danny gasp and moan.

As the demand built up in Danny's body, his hips began to move, pushing his
cock deeper into Rob's mouth, and Rob slipped his tongue underneath the
pushing weapon, lifting it so the tip was thrusting against his hard
palette, making Danny's need rise even more and his thrusts grow in
intensity.

He could have made Danny spunk like that, and the boy would have been
grateful, but it was too soon for that; Rob hadn't given the boy enough
pleasure yet.

He gripped the boy's cock, positioned it, opened his throat and let the boy
all the way in, swallowing every bit of those seven, thick inches. Danny
moaned out loud as he was swallowed, experiencing sensations he had never
experienced before. Yes, he'd been sucked before, but never like this,
never in a way that demanded he just give himself up to what was happening;
his whole being was in his cock and his cock was in a mouth, in a bliss it
never knew existed.

And then, when his spunk was about to rise, his cock was no longer in Rob's
throat, it was out in the cooling air and a tongue was licking it and a
hand caressing it. It was an anti-climax, but not an anti-climax that
disappointed him, rather one that made him want it all to start again, to
take him back into bliss.

"Make me spunk," he heard himself groan, "Please make me spunk."

"Not yet, Danny," Rob whispered, holding Danny's throbbing flesh against
his cheek, "Not yet, make it last."

"Noooooooo," Danny groaned, "Make it spunk now, and then do it again and
again. Please," he begged, "Make me spunk, I need to spunk!"

"Can you manage more than one?" Rob asked, licking the boy's exposed tip.

"As many as you want," the boy moaned, "Anything you want."

It was a risk, Rob knew. Some boys withdrew once their spunk had been made
to flow, their initial need satisfied. He hadn't even got Danny naked yet,
and once the boy's balls had given up their initial load there was a chance
he might hide his softening, sensitive, cock inside his shorts and not
reveal it again.

But if Rob was addicted to teenage cock, he was even more addicted to
teenage spunk, and the possibility of further mouthfuls of that nectar
overcame the worry that the first spurting might also be the last.

He put the boy's cock back into his mouth and took Danny to bliss again,
peeling him enough to be able to lick the exposed, sensitive glans, then
covering him again so his orgasm was not brought on too soon; swallowing
him whole, bringing him completely out and gently blowing air over the wet
tip and the swallowing him again.

Danny moaned and groaned, his hips bucked, his cock thrust in and out and
his balls tightened. Rob brought him out so he rested on his tongue, just
inside his lips, so that when he spurted he would flood Rob's tongue with
his cream, every drop stimulating his taste buds, none wasted by pumping it
straight down his throat.

Danny spunked, his cock jerked and spat, spunk flowed and flooded Rob's
mouth in jerking eruption after jerking eruption, filling Rob's mouth in a
way that it hadn't been filled for many a long month; and every drop was
savoured and swallowed.

All boys like having their spunk eaten, it is the ultimate compliment to
their sexual prowess, proof positive that their surrender of their cock has
been appreciated and not simply used. Danny loved having his spunk eaten;
he'd fucked his sperm down Anthony's throat many times, but those had been
different, he'd simply fucked a passive mouth; this time a mouth had worked
him, driven him to a lusting need he'd never felt before, milked his spunk
from him and savoured it, appreciated it, enjoyed it, and eaten it. Danny
had never been done like this before, never before had he been taken to
such heights of pleasure.

True, he'd had a lot of fun wanking with boys when he was younger, he and
his partners thoroughly enjoying each others' cocks; he'd been with a
couple of boys a year or two older than himself and learned to use his
mouth, and he'd fucked Anthony, fucked himself stupid in an arse that just
wanted cock, any cock, inside it; but he'd never experienced anything like
what had just happened. He'd been an instrument played by an expert and
he'd loved it.

Danny made no move to hide his orgasm sensitive cock back inside his shorts
when Rob came up from between his parted legs and sat beside him once
again, arm round his shoulder. Wonderful as what he'd just experienced had
been, it was only a prelude, a concerto maybe; the full symphony was still
to come and Danny had no intention of missing out on it.

"Enjoy, Danny?" Rob whispered into his hair as his head moved to rest on
the man's shoulder.

"Guess," Danny breathed.

"That wonderful cock of yours produces the most delicious cream," Rob
flattered him.

Danny purred, enjoying the flattery;

"Plenty more where that came from," he murmured, boasting as all boys like
to boast of their sexual prowess, and letting Rob know that spunking once
was not the end of the evening.

Rob squeezed the boy's shoulder, an agreement that he was happy to play
more as soon as Danny had recovered enough.





Danny sogged into the man beside him, slowly recovering from the shuddering
weakness that had accompanied his orgasm, a weakness that started in his
toes and went all the way up to his lips, but seemed to be concentrated in
his thighs and stomach. He drew slowly on the cigarette that Rob had got
for him, and placed it, already lit, between his loose feeling lips.

It had been a powerful orgasm, he must, Danny thought, have pumped out
loads, far more than normal, even allowing for the fact that he hadn't
wanked for a couple of days.

After his break up with queen Anthony, Danny had wanked furiously, six,
seven, sometimes eight times a day, more in frustration than the need to
empty his balls; but, as the urge grew to share his spunk with someone,
some nice, compliant boy who would let Danny use him, the frantic wanking
had slowed, replaced with a want to save his spunk so that, should he find
such a boy, he could demonstrate his dominance with copious, creamy,
outpourings. He hadn't found such a boy, and hormonal need had led instead
to his cock being in a man's mouth, a mouth that was way beyond any mouth
Danny had been in before, a mouth that had worked him, stimulated him and
then milked him; sucked him like Danny had never been sucked before.

Thoughts blurred through his orgasm drugged brain. His semi soft cock still
hung out from his shorts, shorts, like his tee shirt, that he still
wore. Rob had made no move to strip him, expose his full nakedness; he
would have encountered no resistance had he tried to do so, Danny would
have been quite willing for Rob to have exposed all his teenage body, but
he hadn't.

Rob was also still fully clothed, and completely untouched; Danny hadn't
even groped him while he was being sucked: would that have happened if Rob
had been a boy? But, could any boy have sucked him like he'd just been
sucked?

Would just sucking out Danny's spunk be enough for Rob; and, equally
important, was it enough for Danny? If Rob wanted more, wouldn't he have
taken off Danny's shorts and shirt, wouldn't he have stripped himself,
ignored Danny's plea to make him spunk and just done anything he wanted
with the boy?

True, he had promised more after his first spunking, but a promise like
that wouldn't have stopped Danny from stripping a boy whose cock was
already in his mouth; if a boy was that available, his arse might be on
offer as well, but perhaps not after his immediate need had been
satisfied. Would Rob have tried for his arse, would he still try for it
later? Did Danny want to go that far; did he want to be fucked?

Mixed with that was the pleasure, the very real, warming pleasure, of being
snuggled against the man, an arm round his shoulder and his half hard cock
still hanging out from his shorts for the man to look at, just visible in
the evening dark room: and Rob was looking, Danny was aware of that.

The fingers gently tousling his hair as he smoked his cigarette felt good;
it wasn't like any of the sexual encounters Danny had experienced before;
it was sexual, no doubt about that, but it was softer, different. It
seemed, somehow, that it was about him, not just his cock, or even his
arse, but him as a person, and Danny liked that; it made him feel special.

He felt sexy as well, his open to view cock being looked at was sexy;
having nothing on under his shorts was sexy – it always was sexy, that's
why Danny didn't wear anything under his shorts when there was no-one
around, but it was ten times more sexy when like this, with someone who
knew Danny's flesh was so unobstructed.

"Really is a nice cock, Danny," Rob murmured as he fingered the boy's hair;
"Owned by a nice boy, too; a nice, sexy boy."

"Thanks," Danny appreciated, and then asked, wanting the answer to be
affirmative, "You really think I'm sexy?"

"Boy who don't wear knickers and keeps his balls smooth, yeh, he's sexy,"
Rob grinned and turned his head to give Danny a little kiss on the nose.

"Not just my balls," Danny confessed. He retained just a tiny black patch,
an arrowhead pointing to the love tool below.

Rob's other hand wandered down to Danny's thigh and then upwards, under his
shorts to check how far the smoothness went.

"Naughty boy," Rob whispered in his ear as he felt smoothness where smooth
skin should not have been; "Naughty, sexy, delicious, boy."

When Danny's finished cigarette joined Rob's in the ash tray, Rob's
investigating hand closed round the boy's still half filled tube, a tube
that steadily grew, filling completely in the warmth of its enclosing grip.

Danny sighed as he hardened, and this time his own hand moved, searching
for the lump it knew it would find between the man's legs.

Their mouths met again, at first in a shared nibbling of lips and then in a
full, lip clamping exchange of tongues. At some point in their kissing
Danny lost his shirt; he never noticed it being removed, though he must
have complied in its shedding for their lips must have parted long enough
for it to be lifted over his head. He lost his shorts as well and was naked
for the man to savour, glorying in his nakedness, his full exposure to the
hands and mouth that relished him.

He moaned when his nipples were kissed and lip nibbled; he gasped in
surprise and then delight when his pits were kissed and lapped and made
noises of wonder when his balls were sucked and tongue bathed; and all the
time, whenever he could reach it, he grasped and pulled on the rigid length
that rose from the man's groin.

All Danny's noises were as nothing compared with the sounds that escaped
from him when he was repositioned on the small sofa and Rob's ever eager
mouth went to his rear; hands parted him and a probing tongue lapped up and
down his crack, swirling round his rosebud. He groaned and moaned his
approval as Rob ate his arse, the first eating his arse had ever received,
and its eating made a new longing rise in him, a longing to have it
entered, used; a longing he hadn't had before, a longing to be fucked.

"Ooooohhhhhh," he moaned when a finger replaced the tongue, slowly pushing
against his defences, defences that yielded with almost no resistance,
drawing that finger inside and making his need grow more.

"Yeeeeeeeeeeeesssss," he sighed when a second finger joined the first,
stretching him for the cock that would inevitably follow.

How long Rob worked on opening him, and where the lube came from, Danny had
no idea, but he was lubed and open, and he felt Rob's thick cock, as thick,
if not quite as long, as his own, at his now open, willing and eager
entrance.

A sudden shaft of blinding pain, and then Danny was no longer on a sofa in
a darkened room, he was no longer on earth, he was somewhere in that
ageless man-boy world; he was being fucked, fucked for the first time.

He breathed deeply as the initial pain turned into something words cannot
describe; he knew, without the thought forming in his mind, why that queen
he'd fucked so thoughtlessly had loved cock, any cock, inside him; he knew
sex would never be the same for him again. Yes, he'd still want to fuck
himself, and the boy beneath him, into oblivion, but he'd also want cock
inside him, need the feel of hard flesh pounding his bowels, pummelling his
prostrate, driving him to worlds beyond description.

"Oh, yes," he moaned, "Fuck me deep," as Rob's hard shaft penetrated him,
filling his insides in a way his own fingers had never filled him; "Fuck
me, just fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."

And Rob fucked him, loving the hot, tight, velvet feel of Danny's freshly
devirginalised hole gripping his cock as it plundered the fresh treasures
presented to it, fitting his shaft like a slippery glove as he thrust in
and out, taking them both to that place that only boys and men can know. A
cunt can make a cock feel good, but only a boy's hole can make a cock feel
the full pleasure a cock can know: girls are for pleasure, but boys are
true bliss.

Danny had never intended to be fucked, but now he could think of, want
nothing else than, cock inside him; cock sliding in and out of his open,
wanting, needing, hole; cock filling him, cock thrusting deep into him;
cock, cock, cock; his whole world was his hole and the cock that filled it.

He grunted at each thrust, sighed at each withdrawal, waiting in an agony
of abstinence until the next downthrust filled him again; he moaned at the
long, slow, loss of fullness when Rob withdrew, and gasped with delight
when the man thrust back deeply inside him. He panted with lust when Rob
fucked him hard and fast, rabbit fucking him way beyond the solar system,
then moaned again when the pace dropped, bringing him back to earth so his
position could be changed and he could be fucked a different way.

He had no idea of how many ways Rob fucked him, what positions he was put
into, he only knew there was cock inside him and he didn't want it to end.

End it had to; he felt Rob grow even harder inside him, felt him stiffen
and jerk, and then his bowels were flooded with a hot wetness, filled to
bursting, so when Rob withdrew for the last time, the wetness followed him,
leaking out from Danny's open hole while he moaned at the loss of the cock
from inside him.

"Oh shit," he whimpered, when Rob held him tightly, "I never knew it would
be like that!"

Rob cuddled him, stroking his hair, exhausted himself with the fucking he'd
given the boy.

"Never been fucked before," Danny confessed, "Never knew it was like that."

A cigarette later and they were in Danny's bed, cuddled and kissing softly.

"Why didn't you make a move on me when I was at school?" Danny asked while
Rob stroked his thighs and fondled his balls; "If you knew I was gay."

"If you'd stayed on, not gone to college, I would have done," Rob said;
"But you didn't, and it would have been too dangerous, too risky."

"Why?" Danny asked, genuinely puzzled; "I'd never have said anything."

"Of course you wouldn't," Rob agreed with him, gently squeezing the boy's
full again balls; "But you wouldn't have had to."

"Eh?" Danny grunted, not understanding.

"Gary would have known," Rob explained. "I'm not the only one who'd worked
out you're gay; Gary knows as well."

Danny said nothing, he didn't have to; the way his body reacted to Rob's
words was enough.

"Gary knows you fancy him," Rob explained, "Though `fancy' isn't quite the
right word, is it. You're fuckin' nuts on him, and he knows it, but he's
far too good a mate to ever let it interfere with being friends as long as
you never make a move on him."

"You what?" Danny gasped in horror, "He knows?"

"Course he knows," Rob said, stroking Danny's thigh; "He knows you're gay
just as you know he's straight. You don't have to tell him you like boys
any more than he's had to tell you he doesn't: but if I'd have made a move
on you, and you'd have said `yes', which you might have done, then Gary
would have sussed it straight away, and that would have made life awkward
for all three of us."

"He wouldn't have split on you," Danny said.

"No, he wouldn't, but it might have fucked up your friendship with him, and
he's a bit important to you, isn't he."

"Yeh," Danny agreed; Gary was important; he was the unreachable,
untouchable boy of Danny's dreams; the boy he'd wished for, longed for,
when he'd fucked queen Anthony, the boy he'd moaned over at night when he
wanked in the dark.

"So what's different now?"

"Everything," Rob answered; "You're not at school now; you're over sixteen,
legal and I'm not a threat to your friendship with him, anymore than
whatever girl he's shagging is a threat to you."

"I guess," Danny half agreed, not fully convinced; "But didn't you fancy me
at school?"

"Danny," Rob said, "I couldn't tear my eyes away from your legs when you
did dance sessions, apart from when they drifted up a bit and tried to see
through your shorts: I wanted to drag you into my office and rip those
fucking shorts off and suck whatever it was that you had underneath them
until your balls were like shrivelled up prunes. I had a gay, gorgeous boy
in my class and I couldn't do anything about him because no-one else knew
he was gay, and there was no way I could give his secret away."

"No-one but Gary," Danny said.

"No-one but Gary," Rob agreed, "And neither of us was going to fuck up your
life by giving you away."

"Or yours," Danny said with a sudden flash of perspicacity; "I had no idea
you were bent."

"Right," Rob smiled in the darkness, "And if you had, then you wouldn't
have been the only one, and I would have been out of a job."

"Right," Danny understood, and then returned to the thing that had been
bothering him, "But if it had been safe, would you have made a move?"

"If I'm not mistaken," Rob whispered in the boy's ear, "I popped your
cherry about an hour ago; I can only dribble about how magic it would have
been to have popped it when you were fourteen."

"Mmmmmmmmmm," Danny murmured, his ego satisfied, and then added, a touch
wistfully, "So can I!"

He lost count of his orgasms that night; he spunked in Rob's mouth, he
spunked in Rob's hand, and Rob spunked in his. He woke at one point, his
cock hard yet again, and in his half asleep brain, forgot he was not alone
and reached for his erection to satisfy it. His pumping woke the man beside
him, who brushed his hand away and took over, wanking, and then sucking,
the thin dribbles out from him.

In the morning he woke with his cock already in the man's mouth and it took
him forever to spunk; it was, he thought, the most relaxed orgasm he'd ever
had.

"Fuck," he breathed when he'd finally spasmed whatever was left in him into
Rob's mouth, "How many times have you made me spunk?"

"I make it ten," Rob grinned in the morning light, "And we'd better get up
before I go for twenty."

"I don't think it'll get hard again for a week," Danny sniggered. "Thanks,
Rob."

"My pleasure," Rob smiled, "And my thanks to you for a magic night. Whoever
gets you as a boyfriend is one lucky fucker."

"Thanks," Danny said, wondering if Rob was going to apply for that position
and hoping he wasn't: fantastic though the sex had been, and happy as Danny
was to repeat it at some point, he wanted a boy, not a man, for his special
friend.

"Do you know Neil West?" Rob asked when they were downstairs and Danny had
put the kettle on for morning tea. They were both still naked, their
clothes, shed the previous night being downstairs and neither had made a
move to put them back on. Danny loved being naked, and anyway, he knew Rob
was enjoying looking at him just as much as the man liked exposing himself
to the boy he'd fucked that night.

"No; should I?" Danny responded.

"I think you might like to," Rob said, making it sound casual. "Pop into
school on Monday at lunch time. Come down to my office and meet him."

"Why?" Danny hadn't realised what Rob was on about and his attention was on
making the tea.

"I think you might, shall we say, find it worthwhile," Rob lit a morning
cigarette, letting the thought stir in Danny's mind.

"Why; who is he?" the boy asked.

"He's dark haired, good looking, got fantastic legs, and he's fourteen,"
Rob said as though he was discussing the weather.

Danny turned away from the tea he was making to look at the man,

"And?" he asked.

"And he's gay," Rob concluded, "As gay as you and me."

"You sure? You had him?" Danny whispered, naughty thoughts stirring in his
mind at the idea of a gay, good looking, smooth thighed fourteen year old.

"No, I've not had him, but I'd certainly like to," Rob admitted.

"So how d'you know he's up for it?" Danny wanted to know.

"I hear things," Rob said, "Hear what the kids say about each other. Young
Neil, apparently, has tried one or two of the boys in his class, asked them
if they're interested. Not a wise move on his part, because now everyone
knows about it and his life is not all it might be: I've had him come down
and talk with me a couple of times, doing the pastoral bit, you know."

"Sizing up if you can bed him?" Danny grinned.

"Thought had crossed my mind," Rob accepted with a grin back, "But just as
much to let him know there's somewhere safe for him to come if things get a
bit too difficult."

"So why should I want to meet him?"

"Because he likes boys, just like you do, just like I do; and a sixteen
year old who knows what it's like to have his cherry popped is exactly what
he needs; especially a sixteen year old who'd love to pop a fourteen year
old cherry," Rob said, watching Danny to see his reaction.

"You sure he's bent?" Danny asked, his mind already dribbling.

"Danny," Rob smiled, "All he needs is for someone to say `please', and his
knickers will hit the floor faster than a lead balloon coming down."

"Why don't you say `please' to him, then?" Danny asked.

"Safety first, Danny, safety first; the day he leaves school is the day
I'll make a move on him. Until then he's all yours if you want him, and if
you do want him, then by the time he's left school his arse will really
know what life's all about if it's had that fantastic cock of yours inside
it for the best part of two years."

"See you Monday lunchtime." Danny said later when Rob was leaving.

"Yeh," Rob grinned, "And remember, if you ever feel in need......."

"Just ring," Danny grinned back.

"That's it," Rob smiled at him, "Though I don't expect the phone will ring
once you've met young Neil."

"You never know," Danny said, though he knew if young Neil was anything
like he hoped, he'd not be ringing the man for sex.

"Don't wear him out, though," Rob said, "I'd love a go when he's left
school, remember."

"Promise," Danny said, and meant it, "If he's what you say, then I'll make
sure he's in your bed the day he leaves. I'll bring him round myself."



Hope you liked it, folks.

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