Date: Mon, 06 Oct 2003 01:02:11 -0500
From: Tony Tiger <tonytig@hotmail.com>
Subject: Stranger in the Castle

Three weeks had slipped by since I had first met J and our relationship had
broadened into as happy a friendship as could likely be established between
a 14 yr-old boy and a middleaged man. Quiet by nature he was also amusing
and  could expound on any subject,   but was informative rather than seeming
to be lecturing in any way. Boys are strangely perceptive by nature and I
could sense that I could learn much from him that would be both useful, as
well as interesting, and I had no hesitation is asking about many things I
was puzzled about.

My knowledge of things sexual, like most young teenagers, was extremely
limited and often erroneous. He freely described the details of anatomy of
both men and women  and the incredible variety of the forms of relationship
between them including lesbian and gay behaviour. He told me of the many
fetishes that existed, some of which drew a  predictable "Yuch" from me. He
said I should never criticize or condemn any behaviour in others however
revolting I might think it. He even pointed out that many would consider his
(obvious to me ) passion for boys in shorts both deplorable and even
disgusting. He quoted  a phrase I have always remembered. "Nothing is evil
but thinking makes it so".

His passion or fetish whether evil or not, had full rein in our sexual
encounters.  Fairly early on,sensing he wanted it, but was reluctant to ask,
I had shyly asked if he would like me to suck him. My previous experience
having only been a rather clumsy slurping with my schoolmates. He coached me
gently in the techniques of using my tongue on the glans of his well-formed
seven- inch  prick while fondling his balls with one hand and stroking his
thigh with the other.

Considerate as ever, he had insisted on pulling out of my mouth the first
few times he ejaculated but again I knew he would have preferred it
otherwise, so I once pushed his hand away at the last minute in a firm
signal that I wanted to let my mouth receive his cream. I was unprepared
for the flood of semen that ensued and nearly gagged. He was concerned and
told me spit it out; I made an effort and after several swallows lay there
gasping for breath with a some of his thick slightly salty, chalky cum
still running out over my bottom lip and onto my chin.

I can hardly ever remember being totally naked with him. He went to a
conference or meeting in Paris one day and brought back several pairs of
what the french call " un slip", a tiny bikini-style man's brief in a thin
silky material.  He made me wear one under any of the many pairs of shorts
with  no liner that he insisted on buying for me and often I just wore one
alone around his apartment when we were doing other things.

I asked him one day rather clumsily what he did for 'work'. He laughed at
the phrase and said not much as he had inherited a very large sum of money
and was what people would call a dilettante,dabbling in any of the arts or
hobbies that took his fancy. I found I had to be careful for if I ever
admired something such a model sailboat in a shop window, I would find he
had bought it by the time I visited the next day. I had also to leave most
of my clothes at his flat to avoid explanations to my aunt as to how my
wardrobe had expanded so suddenly.

We went out a lot that summer: to the zoo, afternoon matinees at the
theatre and many of London's tourist attractions. He was always dressed
immaculately in summer suits and I in light hot- weather clothing with very
brief shorts. On many occasions when he noticed a man continually staring
at me he would make a point of patting my bum and making sure the man would
notice his hand lingering there fondling me for a few seconds. Now and
again while sitting in the park he asked me to put one foot up on the bench
to allow the leg of my shorts to gape and afford the voyeur a view of my
thin undies and what they contained

He was a master of self-control or 'coitus prolongatus' as it is technically
called, the art of extending one's orgasm by sheer willpower.  I tried to
learn the first beginnings of the skill which was impossible for a boy with
his sap running like wildfire. Sometimes he would suck me gently and when he
could see I was on the very verge of letting go, stop for a minute and start
again. If I reached down to finish it off he would slap my hand with a stern
'No' and roughly pull it away but when my hips and legs were writhing with a
screaming  desire for deliverance he would at last let my adolescent spasms
have their way to disgorge in  his soft mouth.

Sometime during every visit he would softly say "come here a minute boy"
which became almost a  code signalling a prelude to sex and would then lead
me to the sofa or into the bedroom to lie on his huge bed. After a steamy
bout of sex  he would often rest  with his head in between my open legs or
lie alongside me  with his warm still-wet prick either in between them or in
my shorts.

One day or 'that day'as I remember it, things were very very different......

On arrival he insisted that I have a large glass of sherry before lunch. He
seemed keyed up and nervous and had three or four martinis himself and later
several glasses of white wine with the little egg and savoury pies I learned
were  called quiches.He had given  me,  before lunch, another large glass of
sherry which seemed much stronger and fiery than the first.

When we had finished eating I retired to the sofa and he to his favourite
armchair where he sat in silence for a while, smoking one of his black
Russian cigarettes.  I finished my drink as I was wondering if he was cross
about something I had done or said and was about to ask him when he said
"Come over here a minute boy".It semed that everything was back to
normal.How little I knew.

I walked over to him, a little unsteadily. but instead of taking me to the
bedroom or the sofa he said he had bought me some special new undies and
asked me to go to the bedroom and put them on. When I got there I found on
the bed a pair of primrose coloured stepins, as women called them, with no
fly opening. They were  made of thin soft silk with a delicate border of
white lace on the very wide legs; I found out later they were known as
french knickers.

I pulled them on very carefully amazed at their lightness but puzzled at the
lace edging on the legs. I returned to J stood in front of him and asked if
they looked alright. A hot day, he had a small fan whirring on a table which
caused the flimsy material to flutter gently around my thighs. He stared in
fascination at them for the longest time and said "Boy, I know people who
would pay a fortune to see you standing there wearing those".

He made me sit on an ottoman,a velvet covered bench like a long footstool,
so  my bum was right on the edge and  the backs of the silk legs could fall
away. I was confused, what with the woozy feeling the sherry had induced and
the unfamiliar beginning to our normal routine. He stripped slowly never
taking his eyes off me  and knelt in front of me. He parted my legs and
buried his face in between my thighs. I could feel his lips move slowly from
beneath my balls and on into my parted  cheeks which he gently licked.
Suddenly his tongue was wetly probing and then entering my virgin hole.I was
still wearing my undies but the wide short legs were no obstacle to him
whatever.

He made me lie back on the ottoman and put my feet up on the edge.From out
of nowhere I could see him produce a small vial like an eye dropper and felt
him insert it gently into me. He must have squeezed the bulb carefully as I
felt a little warm liquid slowly enter me and spread. "This is balsam oil"
he whispered " it will help prevent too much pain".

Even with calming effect of the alcohol that I was completely unused to, my
senses started as nature's protective mechanisms kicked in; fight,fly or
surrender.Here was the crucial decisive moment that I known and feared would
be on me some day.I had seen a nature programme on Africa only the day
before and had empathized with a lioness,pursued,hounded and savaged
slightly by a rutting male  but seemingly knowing that the acceptance of her
fate was what she had been designed for.I knew I could have said no and that
he would have stopped but I found that I wanted it so without a word or
gesture I braced myself and did  exactly what the lioness did....I
surrendered.

The invader was suddenly at the gate,my flimsy pants were wide open,  the
drawbridge was down.The sentries of my bumcheeks fought bravely knowing the
cause was lost, but were overpowered;the battering ram forced its way past
the guard and smashed through the portcullis;the castle defences were
breached.

The pain was sudden,sharp and intense and I couldnt help emitting a loud
'oooooowwwww' but a hanky was instantly thrust over my mouth muffling my
cry.  I faintly heard J say "Its okayitsokayitsokay".  For a moment I felt
betrayed;I could see it had all been carefully planned ;the sherry( laced
with brandy perhaps),the balsam oil ready and even the hanky at hand to
still my expected scream; all designed to quieten me while my innocence and
virginity were ravished.

J was motionless, the head of his prick just but definitely inside me;the
hurt had diminished slightly.
Could this really be J,who I had grown fond of?. Could he really be blamed?.
Was this the end of the world?  I managed to relax slightly even though I
still felt both kinds of hurt neither of which had gone completely away.

He must have felt the beginning of my acceptance  and my resistance
weakening as he thrust gently letting another inch slide in. He paused,
pushed again and paused again.The pain was still there but only in my
bruised and violated sphincter.  On and on,a thrust,a pause,another and yet
another until I suddenly felt the touch of his hips on my inside thighs and
his balls in the cavity under my buttock cheeks.My colon was full to seeming
bursting with his hot fleshy rod.  The castle keep had fallen.It remained
only for the invader to hoist his flag.

J leaned forward putting his arms around me and his lips on my still gasping
open mouth. The touch of his hot flesh completely inside me  massaging  my
prostate along with the pressure of his stomach muscles on my stiffening
prick under its thin silky covering caused an ecstatic feeling I had never
known before

He moved back slightly and then forward again.Withdrawal,invasion, again and
again in slowly increasing speed.At times it almost felt that he had pulled
out completely but my bruised sphincter told me otherwise as he rammed back
in again to the hilt. J's lips were sucking on mine in a frenzy; his tongue
thrusting in time with his hips;faster and faster he ruthlessly pounded
while my legs,free of the ottoman now,were flailing in mid air and my neck
jerking and my arms flapping helplessly at my side.
With three or four colossal thrusts everything was suddenly still.

Everyone sometime who has waded waisthigh  in the sea, must have braced
themselves for a large incoming wave only to be staggered on its arrival by
the unexpected power of the tons of water.Its relentless and irresistable
power and force seemed identical to my sensation as J released torrent after
torrent into the inner sanctum of my fortress.I knew that an orgasm of my
own had secretly soaked my and J's stomach as well as the filmy cloth
between them.J's practiced ability to prolong his ecstasy was evident as
there was a distinct pause between each boiling gush. They semed to go on
forever.

I remember little of the rest of the day. J carried me to bed where I slept
until almost dark then dressed me and took me down to the taxi he had
insisted on.He smiled slightly and hugged me as he said goodbye and
whispered "I love you boy".

Still sleepy and exhausted I murmured something and couldnt quite
comprehend why he semed to freeze and stare at me while his eyes filled with
tears as the door closed and the taxi pulled away.Only when the taxi got
home did I recall exactly what I had said in reply.. "I love you too Dad".