WARNING: This story contains sexually explicit parts involving sex between minors and adults. Do not read the contents if it will offend you. If accessing this story causes you to break local laws (village, town, city, county, province, state, or country, etc.), please leave now.
Any characters portrayed in this story are fictional and not representative of anyone living or dead.
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The Sound of Silence.
By John Teller.
Part 2 of 2.
It's been a beautiful day up to yet. The weather has remained warm due to a high-pressure area that's dominating the UK at the moment. CJ and I have been to Wallingford to try and get the River Boys some console games, but CJ was right when he said we probably wouldn't get them all there, so after a light lunch we motored up to Oxford and managed to find the rest, and we're both in a chipper mood as we head back to his place.
I prompt my friend to continue his story about Andrey, but he resists. "Later Old Boy... Later. When we've had a few glasses. I rooted out a few bottles of decent plonk before we set out. We'll go Italian tonight. We'll be in Tuscany this evening. I'll play some Italian music... Bocelli and Pavarotti... that should set the mood." He laughs. "If I get waylaid and start talking about Italian boys then just give me a kick under the table." With a wicked grin on his face, he looks across at me as he's driving. "Did I ever tell you about little Gino from San Vincenzo?"
I chuckle. "Little Gino with the rather large roger?"
"That's the one. Ahhh... then I must have told you about him." He sighs. "Wish he was ten years old again and in bed with me tonight. Wonder how he's doing? He'll be hung like a horse now. I pity the chap who he's with."
We both laugh, and during the rest of the journey CJ re-relates his tales of Little Gino with the rather large roger.
************************
We've cleared away the dinner things and retired to the patio again. CJ was right; the Italian reds we've drunk, and are still drinking, have been, and are, delicious. The one we're drinking now is a Piedmont 2007 Gaga Barbaresco; a sumptuous red with fragrant raspberry notes and an incredible poise... the perfect wine to go with one of CJ's anecdotes, especially because Andrea Bocelli is serenading us softly in the background. And so I wait patiently for my friend to continue his tale. The sun is just low enough on the horizon to create a myriad of colours when he begins after I prompt him to do so.
He studies the beautiful sky and adopts his story-telling face; a far-away look with a hint of a smirk on his countenance. "Where were we? Oh yes, James Bond was dining with a superb lady and a boy God who, earlier in the day had an incestuous relationship with his mother." He takes a drink of his wine, and when he's replaced the glass on the table, he continues. "When we'd eaten, Mrs Andrey asked if I would like to accompany her and her boy on a run down the coast the following day in her car. I suspected this was all planned and I was intrigued what the pair were up to. I accepted, of course. The evening crept on, and Andrey, (he chuckles) being unable to give me a friendly grope of Old Roger, instead, kept eye contact with me for quite a while just to let me know how he was feeling. Eventually, at little boys' bed time around eleven, he went off to his room, so mummy and I retired to the cocktail lounge to finish off the evening. All pretty normal, except I was entertaining the wife of a very important member of The Party. Because walls have ears and eyes, we developed a conversation in tongues. When she said that Andrey thought I was great fun and would enjoy spending the day with me, we both knew she meant that he wanted me and that the next day would be all about doing just that, and when I replied that I really enjoyed his company, she took it as given that I was up for whatever she'd planned. She was quite amused with the whole thing, actually."
I'm intrigued, and ask, "Why was that?"
CJ chuckles. "Well, what would Mr Andrey's walls have ears and eyes have been interested in regarding an affaire absconditum? She and I of course. But Mrs Andrey was cleverer than they thought. She said there was a small beach house about twenty miles down the coast that we could go to." He holds up one hand. "Don't ask. I didn't. Beach houses don't just magic themselves up, but she'd managed it somehow. Then she said that she might pop off for a short while when we were there and suggested that I might look after Andrey while she was away? She had a good friend to visit."
At this point I begin to laugh. "The naughty lady! She was off to get her end away, leaving you babysitting Andrey, knowing you were going to do the same?"
CJ joins with my laughter. "Got it in one John. No walls have ears in a magic beach house, and I wasn't really interested in how she pulled off her affaire absconditum." He breaks into giggles. "I did find out before I left that it wasn't a gentleman she was seeing. It was another lady!"
Pavarotti singing Ave Maria in the background may, or may not have been suitable for the moment depending on how one interpreted the translation of the first verse of the hymn, which, in this instance could have been analogous to what was going on at the beach hut. Hail Mary, full of grace. The lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb. That thought reduces me to tears of laughter, and when I tell CJ why I'm so amused, he doubles up with laughter and eventually says, "By Jove, John, sometimes I forget why I enjoy your company so much. Perfect!" He drinks the rest of his wine in a single go, and points to the bottle. "Top us up again John."
I grin at him. "The reason you enjoy my company is because it saves you hiring a bloody butler."
He throws a wicked grin at me. "There is that, too. Now get on with it, Jeeves, or you won't hear the rest of this spicy tale."
I top us both up. "Anything else m'Lud?"
After he's taken another large draught from his glass, he shakes his head and continues with the tale. "I'll skip to nine-thirty the following morning. I'm dressed colonially... slacks and sandals and a flowery shirt... not forgetting my man-bag that contained all I needed if little Andrey liked the attentions of Old Roger in places some little boys like old rogers to go. Mrs A looked a million dollars and Young Master A was wearing those wonderful short shorts they used to wear way back then. You know the type... those that show all legs and fit tightly on superb boys' bottoms." CJ chuckles. "I'd skipped the nuptials the previous evening. I was sort of... you know how the song goes... Saving All My Loving For You... the `You' being the delectable creature who sat in the small back seat of the roadster fiddling with his bits while his mummy drove like Juan Fangio along the not so good roads they have over there. Perhaps it was as well that she did. The sight of Andrey fondling his not so well-hidden Little Roger was sort of balanced out by my terror of the way she drove, so Old Roger kept his head down."
I interrupt. "Weren't you followed?"
He nods his head. "Oh yes. That's why she was driving like a lunatic. She was enjoying the fun."
"Did you shake them off?"
"No. No need to. Well, not as far as Andrey and I were concerned. We reached the beach house and she brought the damned thing to a halt in a cloud of dust at the bottom of the drive to it, which was about a hundred yards from the road." He chuckles. "In no time, Andrey and I were in the sea and she was gone up the drive in another cloud of dust. We had a seabird's eye view of what was going on. She turned right at the top of the drive; the black car that had been following us took off after her, and how she went on after that is none of my business. It had all worked perfectly and I was left, literally, holding the baby."
I have a vision of what it was like in my mind's eye, and I ask, "Was he naked?"
CJ shakes his head. "No. That was at the hotel beach only. He was wearing a pair of black speedos."
I laugh. "And how long did they stay on?"
CJ chuckles. "Quite a while actually. All of twenty minutes." He takes another drink of his wine. "You know me, John... unlike you who gets tongue-tied with boys... I always find the best way of dealing with the little buggers is to come straight to the point. I told him that he was the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen in my life, that he had the cutest bottom on earth, and that I would be prepared to throw myself into a volcano for the privilege of kissing it. And, John, little Andrey was just like me. There was no messing about. We went back to the beach house, dried ourselves off, and were on the bed in the tiny bedroom before you could say `Jack Robinson'." He grins at me. "Do you want to know the intimate details?"
I scowl at him. "I bloody well do! Get on with it!"
He laughs. "Alright then. Well, you know what horny little boys are like. My first task was to take the sting out of his tail, so after I'd been swooning over his delectable frame for all of two minutes, I gave him a blow job the likes of which he probably still remembers to this day. I know how much he enjoyed it. He was so worked up that he almost strangled me when he wrapped his legs around my neck and his arms around my head and made me take every inch of what he had, and he took a full middle finger without so much as a whimper before he exploded with boy pleasure. Oh yes, my Andrey loved his sex. After that it was just a matter of exploring his tendencies, and with Andrey, that wasn't too difficult. Old Roger certainly enjoyed himself that day, especially because of the attention my Andrey paid to him. Not quite deep throat, but not far off. But as I've told you before, I was gifted with an Old Roger that's made for little boys. They don't like men who are hung like a horse. My mummy must have shopped for me in Savile Row. I have a pert size six that fits snugly into willing boys' mouths and bottoms."
"And Andrey was into anal as well as oral?" I enquire with more than a little curiosity.
"Uhuh," replies CJ. "I knew he would be when he bent over to dry himself at the hotel beach. Boys don't show their wares unless it's an invitation. Someone or something had been there before. Old Roger slipped in without so much as a whimper when he adopted the doggy position once we'd become familiar. I did the usual check to make sure he was enjoying it by reaching under him to check on Little Roger, and he was as hard as a nail. So it was all systems go and I fired off the second barrel."
"When was the first barrel?"
CJ snorts. "You haven't been listening, John! Deep throat?"
I chuckle. "You didn't tell me you fired."
"Of course I bloody well fired! Wouldn't you if Golden Boy was playing merry hell with your roger on his tonsils? I did tell you that I abstained the previous evening. That's why he got sixteen gauge on his tonsils and not twelve... a gentleman's round." CJ grins smugly. "Well, a gentleman who has abstained the previous night."
"Did he swallow?"
CJ throws me a disdainful glance. "Of course not! Despite what you might read in dirty stories, I can absolutely assure you that eleven year old boys do not swallow unless they're being forced to, and never in my life have I forced a boy to anything he didn't want. They're far too precious to use for simple gratification! To me, their souls are as important as their delectable bodies." Then he grins. "No, he didn't swallow, but neither did the contents of my loins make him puke. He just let it flow back out of his pretty mouth onto my tummy and then wiped his lips on a cloth I'd kept handy for my residue of love. Neither did he wash his mouth out afterwards, so he was not completely averse to the nutritional value of what I provided. Anyway, he didn't have time for a wash and brush up. The moment he'd emptied me, he was up on my chest, making sure Little Roger got the same treatment again." CJ chuckles. "My little Andrey possessed a high libido. Not counting the spasms he emitted when I served him via the backdoor, so to speak, which I think was another climax, I counted five times the little sprite went to Heaven." He winks at me. "All dry, of course. Unlike you, I prefer my boys to fire blank shots. He might have had a pair of rather lovely balls, but they weren't working yet."
I chuckle. "And you?"
My friend points to the bottle of unopened wine on the table. "Open that John. That will be our third bottle this evening, the same number of times that our Golden Boy felt was my just rewards for the joys I gave him. He was a very kind, unselfish boy. Not like some I've known who scarper once they've been pleasured."
When I've opened the bottle - a Chianti Superiore of 1997 vintage - I fill our glasses and we both savour the exquisite, earthy flavours before I venture another enquiry. "And then?"
CJ replaces his glass on the table and lights up a Havana cigar... something he always does when the last bottle is to be the last bottle. When he's fully alight, he blows a large plume of smoke up at the now dark night, and smiles. "We went into the sea again. Then we ate a packed lunch that mummy had provided. Then we talked. Quite a lot actually, and he did just mention that his mummy was going to see a lady friend. And yes, he was aware of the implications. In fact he was quite pleased that he'd not been dragged along this time. Then I discovered what an unhappy boy he was. Can you blame him? With wealth comes privilege, and with privilege comes isolation. Well, the sort of isolation that boys like Andrey find difficult to cope with. Not for him the intimate company of his peers. He preferred men to boys, and given the position of privilege his father was in, those who he liked and actually got to know were very few and far between. As a matter of fact, I was only his second conquest. The other was his uncle... mummy's brother."
"The plot thickens. Did mummy know about it?"
CJ nods and takes another draw of his cigar. "Indeed the plot thickens, and Andrey told me mummy did not know about her brother serving our Golden Boy. But I did wonder whether or not she did. Little boys do not always know the full story. My chat the previous evening with Mummy told me that she was more than familiar with Andrey's disposition. Now where would she learn that?" CJ takes a large draught from his glass, and sighs. "We've been in the diplomatic business long enough to know the intrigues that lie behind words, John. I think she did know. Why she chose not to reveal it was her business. Maybe her affair with her lady friend became a bargaining tool? Who knows? Whatever, knowing that Andrey would not be completely neglected when we parted was sort of comforting. A boy like Andrey needs his outlets. Without them they can do very silly things." Again CJ sighs. "But Andrey survived... which is good. Unfortunately, I still bear the scars of our short adventure. I fell head over heels with the beautiful boy, and after I'd given my precious little man one more special blow job before mummy arrived to take us back to the hotel, after that day I never saw him again."
"Why was that?"
CJ shrugs his shoulders. "Mummy came back, we all went back to the hotel, had dinner together, and the next morning they were gone before I ate breakfast."
"They didn't tell you they were leaving?"
"No."
"Is Mrs A still fine?"
CJ nods. "Oh yes. And she and Mr A are still together."
"Weren't you worried at their sudden disappearance?"
"Indeed I was. In fact I was worried for the following three months until I got back to Blighty, and even then I was looking over my shoulder for a while." CJ grins at me. "You're wondering whether it was worth it?"
I laugh. "You're reading my mind again!"
CJ laughs. "Only I can do that, John. Don't fret. Apart from a broken heart for a while, it was worth every risk I took. Andrey was the pinnacle of my conquests. No boy before or since has ever been the complete Monty as he was. It may only have been a one day wonder, but I swear to God that my last thoughts on this earth will be of him taking Old Roger completely and enjoying every moment of it. Now then, will you be abstaining tonight? River Boy George texted earlier to make sure you were still here."
I laugh. "Did he indeed?"
"Yes, and I replied that you have the hots for him."
"And what did he reply to that?"
CJ grins. "What have we had for dinner this evening?"
"A lovely sirloin steak. Why?"
"I was going to do us a lasagne this evening to go with the wine and the music, but George replied that I should, `Feed him plenty of steak'."
We both giggle, and then begin to laugh.
***********************
That was CJ's tale about Andrey, but I won't leave you in the lurch as to what happened when the River Boys, George and Daniel came to visit. So I'll tell you about it.
************************
The sound of silence. The cause of that disposition was beginning again, and this time it was in the shape of a gorgeous boy named George.
Knowing the boys would soon arrive, I decided to use the bathroom to make myself presentable before they did, and because I'm fastidious with my cleanliness and appearance, I was quite a while. When I was eventually done and walked back into the lounge, there they were, all playing a console football game on the TV. CJ has two large, very comfy sofas in the lounge. On one sat CJ, and snuggled into him was a gorgeous little boy with a host of freckles on his sun tanned face. So this was Daniel, and once again I inwardly congratulated my friend on his choice. CJ described him as petite, and rightly so. Having discarded his trainers and white socks untidily on the carpet, he was dressed only in a tee-shirt and pair of white shorts, one leg of which was showing more leg than the other, and that's because CJ's hand was gently stroking his inner thigh at about crutch level and his thumb was playing games with the boy's obvious erection. So much for propriety! But modesty was never a high priority for CJ. That's why he's so successful in his conquests.
But I'm different and I was a little awkward when I saw George was on the other sofa. What to do? So I asked the really attractive young man if he minded if I sit next to him. He beamed at me and patted the space beside him. "Sit here John." Then, showing me the game controller in his hand, he added, "We're playing FIFA 15. You can help me play those two."
I sat down and smiled at him. "I'm afraid I'm not a great fan of soccer, but I'll do my best."
He looked surprised. "You don't like football!"
I shook my head and grinned at him. "Not really, but I don't mind joining in. You play, and I'll cheer you on. How does that sound?"
He grinned. "That's okay. You sit on the end of the sofa and I'll sit with you."
So I moved up and, bless his little cotton socks, he came right beside me, leaned against me, and put his legs along the sofa to make himself comfortable, which meant that I had no option other than to lift my right arm and allow it to drape around his shoulders. He grinned again at me, and I asked, "You don't mind, do you?"
Being so close and intimate, I took him in, in one short glance. He had straight dark hair quiffed to the left, lovely brown eyes, and the rest of his face, much like his body, was gently curved and very fetching, and it crossed my mind that he was more attractive in the flesh than in the photograph I had of him. Part of that train of thought was because he was not wearing jeans this day. Like his brother, he wore soccer shorts, and those had ridden up his thighs, revealing lovely strong legs. And he was warm! But let's skip the next fifteen minutes and get into the situation where we became familiar.
I knew soccer was a rowdy game, but I didn't realise that two boys competing on a console was as rowdy as it could be. But it was! Especially when two brothers are competing. By the time the first two games were over (both boys having won a game each) their blood was up. So was mine, especially because, like CJ, George's frantic body movements had somehow managed to land my right hand on the top of George's naked thigh. But, unlike CJ who had by this time managed to get his hand completely inside Daniel's shorts, I was still at the thigh-fondling stage and my thumb had not quite reached the obvious bulge in George's shorts. That was rectified during the next game. George, bless his little cotton socks again, when he had a fraction of a second to spare while playing the game during the second-half, took the opportunity to grab my hand and pull it directly onto the raging hard-on he was experiencing. It was at that point that I realised that sex and soccer go well together with boys, especially when the boys are not shy. Why did I come to that conclusion? Well, not only had George taken the full initiative openly with me, but little Daniel had also done his own thing. His shorts and underpants were now down to his thighs and CJ's finger and thumb were working hard on the small erection.
Game over. Daniel had won and George was no longer interested in losing, so he threw the controller onto the floor by the sofa and concentrated on me while I fondled him. (Daniel had also lost interest in the game and was now sitting sideways on CJ's lap while my friend was earnestly in the process of satisfying the little boy.) George lifted his head and looked into my face. "You're nicer than in the photograph. And you smell nice."
I smiled at him. "And you're nicer than in your photograph. CJ tells me you're fourteen."
He nodded. "Last March."
I squeezed his hard-on. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"
He nodded. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't, would I."
"Not really. You seem like a young man who knows his own mind." Then I added, "But I'm not too comfortable doing it in company."
George gave me an evil grin and said, "Neither am I. Can we go to your bedroom?"
I grinned back at him and replied, "Definitely!" I glanced across at CJ and Daniel, who were now both well into it. "We'll give them some space, shall we?"
So we both sauntered out of the lounge and to my bedroom. But the sauntering stopped when we got there, and that's because an old guy who hadn't had boy-sex for quite a while was in the company of a young man whose hormones were in rampant mode. No preliminaries... we just went at it hell for leather and in no time we were both completely naked and in the 69 position with George on top, and as I was drooling over the sweet boy essence that had been ejaculated into my throat, George was slobbering as he captured my own in his delectable mouth. Maybe CJ was right when he said that little boys do not like man sperm, but George was no longer a `little boy'. For a start, he had a Roger that was almost as big as mine, and, as CJ had said, he was sprouting a nice little tuft of pubic hair above the base of his boyhood. Just how I like them. He was uncut, clean without a trace of smegma when I rolled back his foreskin, and it was obvious that he'd bathed before he came, and put plenty of anti-perspirant on to make himself even more desirable. Good boy!
As I pointed out earlier, although he was only just fourteen, he was a rather well-built boy with a nice six-pack that rippled when he was doing the business. But the really nice thing about him is that he was a really nice boy. As you can imagine, most boys are not attracted to men my age, but he paid me a lovely compliment after the initial outing of lust was over and we were relaxing, when he said, "You're a cool bloke. You've got a great body."
I thanked him and added, "I still work out, don't smoke, don't go out with lewd women, and I eat well."
He giggled at that comment, and then asked, "But you go out with the men?"
I shook my head. "I'm not gay. I'm into boys just like you... and they don't grow on trees."
He laughed. "No, in this instance they get washed up on the shores of a posh bloke's house by the river. So you got lucky then?"
I nodded. "Uhuh. You're like a peach in the desert."
He squinted. "A peach in the desert?"
I had my arm under him and pulled him closer. "Uhuh. An old Persian proverb. A woman for breeding; a boy for pleasure, but nothing is as delicious as a peach in the desert."
He put on a pretend hurtful look. "So I'm not a boy for pleasure?"
I kissed his forehead. "I was paying you the highest compliment. Although you're a boy for pleasure, I reckon you're also as scrumptious as a peach in the desert. Have you got a boyfriend?"
He smiled and shook his head. "No. Well, not a proper one. I met a lorry driver in the pictures about six months ago. He lives down south. I've seen him three times since. He phones me when he's coming this way and is staying overnight here. He's got one of those trucks with a sleeper cab. I spend the night with him."
"How do you work that? What do your parents think?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "My dad works on the oil rigs in Norway. We hardly see him. Mum's give up trying to tell me what to do. I just tell her I'm staying at friends overnight. Billy, that's my lorry driver pal, is always early away, so I go home, get changed to go to school, and that's it."
"How old is Billy?" I asked.
"Thirty one. How old are you?"
I then did what old men would usually do, knocked a few years off the truth when I replied, "Not quite twice his age."
He rubbed his hands over my tummy and then grabbed my Roger. "You've got a better body than Billy. He's pot bellied. Have you had enough yet?"
I chuckled. "Certainly not! Have you?"
"No!" He giggled. "You wouldn't like to fuck me, would you?"
Because Roger had became fully aroused again, I grinned at him and said, "I most certainly would! Are you sure you're okay with that George?"
He grinned. "Try me and see. Have you got something I can put on my bum?"
"Some gel you mean? There's some in that bag on the table. And condoms if you want me to wear one."
He snorted. "Bit late for that! No, I don't want you to wear a condom."
Five minutes later and George had taken half of me. The only reason I wasn't completely buried inside him was because we were doing it in the spoon position and George had a well-rounded bottom. So there was about three inches that were nestled between those gorgeous bum cheeks, and the other three inches were inside him. But he was happy with that. The stiff River Boy Roger I was masturbating while I was getting my end away was telling me that all was well. Being as old as I was and having already unloaded once, I knew it would take me a while to do it again, but it was just as well. George climaxed a couple of minutes after I'd gained full access, and again after I'd given him a rest period before we began again. This time it took about ten sensual minutes, and just as I felt my own feelings boiling over, I really worked George off and we came almost at the same time.
So that was my first time with George. Was it the last? Fortunately not. Apparently, for reasons no older person really understands, George likes me a lot. Yes, there's the fact that I've become a sugar daddy to him, but that's not the whole reason. I suppose its complex. These things usually are. George is a budding gay person who likes older partners... and I'm available. It's all in the mind. When we're not in bed, he calls me John. When we're in bed he uses more vulgar language and I won't repeat what he calls me when he's deep in his throes of ecstasy. As I said, these things are complex.
In bed? That's complicated too. During the school hols he tells his mother that he's going camping with his mates and comes and spends time at my house. I pay his train fare; we spend time doing various things, but we also spend quite a bit of time in bed. Being as old as I am, that's not easy for me. Think about it... a young stud hormonally well-balanced and an old guy who is way past his best in the Staying Stakes. But I'm an unselfish old boy lover. His needs are paramount. So I've acquired a number of aids that he enjoys immensely when my stamina has wilted. It's all good fun! But how long will it last before...
Hello
darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within
The end.
Postscript:
And Daniel? Well, he's still milking CJ on a regular basis. Payment in kind for those two, but it works, which is all that matters. If Daniel didn't think he was getting the best of the bargain, he wouldn't be there.
You can find my other stories on Nifty here. If you wish to comment on this or any of my other stories, just drop me a line to john.thestoryteller@gmail.com Genuine comments will be appreciated. All flames will be extinguished in the trash bin.