Date: Sat, 29 Jul 2006 07:37:00 -0700 (PDT)
From: Christopher Marlowe <marlower15@yahoo.com>
Subject: Speedo boy's daredevil challenge 1

Speedo boy's daredevil challenge 1
by "Christopher Marlowe"
part 1 of a new story for the "Adult/Youth" and "Authoritarian" Gay Male
sections
( M/b, mast, anal, oral, fist, bond, bd, sm, s+m, tort, cbt etc )

(Disclaimer - this is a work of fiction involving a man and a preteen
boy, and will  involve speedos, consensual bondage and consensual
sex...so if that makes you say yuck please don't read it!
Nothing described within here has ever happened in real life and nor
should it. It should not be imitated or copied in any way...stay safe out
there guys...this is pure fantasy!)

"Oh...and there was a letter for you, darling..."
"Thanks Mum".
Rob eyed the envelope curiously. Like most twelve year old boys, he
hardly ever got any letters, except maybe when it was Christmas or his
birthday. Never now, at the very start of the summer holidays, when he'd
only just got home from boarding school.
Just a white envelope with his name and address neatly printed on the
front. No return address on the back. It felt as through there was just a
thin piece of card inside.
He raced upstairs in a boyish blur, locked his bedroom door and jumped
onto his little bed and tore open the envelope.
Then he caught his breath sharply as he caught sight of the logo printed
on the card. It depicted a young boy in speedos holding a trident. The
little imp was grinning, and horns protruded from his head.
"Crikey..." the boy whispered, as his little heart started hammering
beneath his rib cage.
In ornate handwriting, the card said:
"Lord Wolf requests the pleasure of your  company for a testing night
that you will never, ever forget".
He turned the card over.
On the back was written:
"Dress code: strictly black speedos only".
And underneath that "Only brave, wicked boys need apply - your personal
welfare and safety are by no means guaranteed."
The twelve year old boy felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach. His
tummy started to turn somersaults. His slim body tingled and fizzed with
boyish energy. And he found that he was shaking a little too. He began to
re-live memories of his extraordinary summer spent at Poseidon Manor two
summers before, as a daring ten year old. (NOTE TO READER: as told in the
Nifty Stories Archives as "Boy Daredevils In Speedos", available in Nifty
or on any Google search.)
It had been a nightmare, but it was still his favourite nightmare. The
risks he had taken. The pain he had suffered. The abuse. The cruelty that
had been inflicted on him at such a young age. Perverse cruelty. But also
the thrills. The excitement. The joy of being stretched to his limits in
his speedos, and then pushed way beyond..his pride in knowing that it had
all been carefully filmed, every inch of his suffering, so that his
dangerous exploits could bring pleasure to men with unusual tastes. The
kind of guys who get off on watching pretty and energetic little boys in
speedos swimming, diving, wrestling, boxing, doing dangerous stunts,
getting hurt sometimes, winning sometimes, and getting introduced to
scarey things which no little boy should  experience, like real bondage
and torture, conducted by adults who took no account of the tender age of
their child victim.
But young Rob also remembered the strong friendships he'd made with the
other boys there...the way he's fallen in love with a nine year old blond
boy called Paul, and the way Paul's older brother had shown him how to do
things he'd never done before. The way he'd grown in confidence so that
he felt he could do anything.
But he'd resolved never to go back. He'd done it once, and that was
enough. He could never go back. His sensible, logical side told him it
wasn't right. It was kind of unhealthy...even a bit sick and a bit
weird. He needed to look after himself. He was wiser now. He was
twelve...almost a teenager. And yet....
His boyish sense of adventure always seemed to win through. His slim
little hand reached down past his silky yellow T-shirt and inside his
black lycra cycling shorts and his little cock began to pulsate with
excitement. And as he began to rub, a wicked grin spread over his face,
and he knew where his destiny lay. Just for one night.
Only one thing worried him: black speedos. Rob knew from experience that
that color meant only one thing to Lord Wolf - no safety limits. No
limits at all. "Your personal welfare and safety are by no means
guaranteed." Black can mean....ummm...black can actually mean......no,
better not to even think it. It couldn't possibly go that far in real
life. But it was quite exciting thinking about it...
He tore off his T-shirt and his black and yellow football socks...he
spreadeagled himself face down on his Batman and Robin duvet, utterly
naked apart from the clinging black lycra undergarment...it was almost as
sexy as masturbating in his speedos.
It didn't take Rob long to climax...when you're twelve you need to jerk
off all the time...but this time it was a savage, wanton, rough, abusive
little orgasm as he pumped his boyfresh juice into the beloved black
fabric of his tight little cycling shorts.
His boyish fringe of brown hair whipped into his big brown eyes as he
tossed his head around wildly, like a little pony struggling desperately
in a tiny, cruel leather harness. He murmured "Wolf..." hopelessly as
he smeared his small ejaculation hastily over his hairless tummy, and
then up over his heaving chest towards his boyish little nipples, and
then he knew he was lost. "I'm coming" he murmured "I'm coming...and I'm
yours...dead or live!"

(to be continued...if you want!)
(please send any suggestions, requests, comments or feedback to
marlower15@yahoo.com about how young Rob's session with Lord Wolf should
pan out..no holds barred...)