Date: Thu, 27 Jul 2006 21:48:13 +0000
From: Trevor Martindale <attaboy-jo-jo@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Trevors Three Challenges - Part 1/3 (Revised)

All the usual disclaimers apply. The following story is
entirely fictional and contains explicit descriptions of
sexual activity between adult males and minors. READ NO
FURTHER if you are under the age of eighteen or offended by
such material.


Trevor's Three Challenges - Part 1/3 (M+/t, Oral)

By Trevor Martindale

It was an overcast day in late July. The summer holidays
had just begun and Lenny and Ronnie, my two mates, were at
the seaside with their parents: my mother and father had no
money for such expensive excursions, so I was left to kick
my heels until my mates returned from the coast.

A Tarzan film was showing at the local fleapit: the Ben-Hur
cinema in Aston Street. The place was a real dump, but it
was a lot easier to sneak into than the Empire or the Odeon
- Lloyd, the West Indian usher, kept one of the fire exit
doors open on a Tuesday afternoon.

The cinema was almost empty when I stepped inside and sat
down near the back. The house lights were down and the film
was just about to start, so I had picked the perfect time
to sneak in. Lloyd walked up the centre aisle and shone his
torch in my direction. This was the danger moment: if he
liked the look of you, you stayed; if not, you were thrown
out on your ear -- blond boys, like me, were never thrown
out, but I didn't know that at the time.

Lloyd disappeared into the darkness as I settled down to
watch `Tarzan's Three Challenges', starring Jock Mahoney
and Woody Strode. I had paid to see the film a few weeks
earlier at the Odeon, so my only interest in watching it
again was for the fight scenes, especially the machete
fight scene.

The man who sat down beside me some ten minutes into the
film was clearly no fan of Jock Mahoney.

`He's nowhere near as good as Gordon Scott,' he said. `In
fact, old Jock played the villain in one of Gordon's films,
"Tarzan the Magnificent". Have you seen it?'

`No,' I said.

`It was doing the rounds some three or four years ago. You
must have been, what, eleven or twelve years old?'

`Ten or eleven,' I replied truthfully.

`Hmm, it's a pity we didn't know one another then,' he
said, putting his hand on my bare, left knee. `Now listen,
sport. The manager's in today and he's on the lookout for a
bod who sneaked in without paying.'

The colour drained from my face as I turned and looked at
the man. The manager had once hit me across the back of the
head during a Saturday morning matinee. I was completely
innocent of course, but still the bastard had blamed me for
the uproar that had broken out after a crummy Roy Rogers'
short. Unfortunately, my father and the manager had
attended the same school together, so, when they met to
deal with my complaint, I was given another whack across
the back of the head for accusing my father's long lost
friend of assault.

`Don't worry, sport,' continued the man, squeezing my knee
gently. `Lloyd sent me over to look after you. He gave me
an extra ticket stub and said that, if asked, he would say
we came in together.'

`Oh, right,' I said, not knowing what else to say.

`I wouldn't try to leave now, sport,' warned the man,
sensing my reluctance to hang around. `The manager's bound
to nab you if you do a runner now. No, wait `til the end of
the film and leave with me, Uncle Frank.'

It was then that another man came shuffling along the row
of seats I was in and sat down next to me, on my right. I
nervously sat between the two men as Tarzan continued to
challenge the evil Khan.

`He's found the fire exit door open,' said the man. `The
old sod's on the prowl and looking for someone without a
ticket. Lloyd told me to tell you to stay put, son.'

I turned my head to thank the man for the message, and as I
did so, Frank shifted his hand from my knee to my crotch.

`Thanks for the update, John,' said Frank, squeezing my
cock through the fabric of my shorts and underpants. `I've
got the lad's ticket in my pocket, so as long as he stays
here, he's got nothing to worry about.'

`Good, good,' said John, putting his hand on my bare, right
knee. `The last boy they caught in here without a ticket
was dragged off to a borstal. He was locked up for nearly a
year and a half, the poor sod.'

The idea of being locked up in a borstal filled me with
dread. My father would be absolutely furious and beat me
black and blue. The very thought of being caught by the
manager made me feel faint; it also stopped me from doing
anything about the hand between my legs - the hand that
would have caused me to vault over the seats and make a run
for it at any other time.

`What's your name, sport?' asked Frank, feeling my cock
stiffen a little beneath the material of my shorts and
underpants.

`Trevor, Trevor Mar...'

`Well, Trevor,' he interrupted. `If you do exactly as
you're told, co-operate like, I'll tell the manager, if he
asks, that you're my nephew. Deal?'

`Yes,' I replied submissively.

`Good. That's good,' he said, squeezing my cock real hard.
`Now unbuckle your belt, unbutton your shorts and pull out
your cock.'

`C'mon, son,' added John. `It'll be fun.'

Helped by the two men, I nervously released my snake belt,
unbuttoned my grey gabardine shorts and pulled out my cock,
which continued to stiffen.

`Nice,' said John, taking hold of my growing erection and
squeezing it behind the cock-head. `This feels real stiff.'

`So does this,' said Frank, as he took hold of my hand and
wrapped it round the stem of his hard-standing cock, which
was now, like mine, fully exposed to the elements.

`Now do as you're told, sport, and you'll walk away with
half-a-crown and a smile on your face. Okay?' continued
Frank.

I nodded my head and squeezed Frank's cock to underscore my
commitment to the deal we had struck: the offer of money
didn't register; I just needed that ticket stub.

The two men crowded in on me as I was encouraged to stroke
Frank's cock and let John's forefinger and thumb stroke
mine. I already knew how to wank, so I wasn't fazed in any
way by what we were doing. In fact, I kind of liked the
idea of being wanked off by somebody else.

The fear of being hauled off to the police station by the
cinema manager soon ebbed away as I concentrated on
satisfying the men's lust for underage sex. They sensed,
and quite rightly so, that I might be a boy that could be
called upon to satisfy their lust on a regular basis.

`You're really good at this, sport,' said Frank, lying
through his teeth. `I didn't think a youngster of your age
would so good at looking after an old man's cock.'

`He's got a really nice winkle as well,' added John. `It's
a pity we can't find somewhere more private to carry on
playing with it.'

`Yeah, the manager's bound to be sniffing around here soon,
Johnny boy,' said Frank, looking at the sea of empty seats
in front of him. `I think we better pack it in. Maybe we
could meet up again next Tuesday afternoon, when the
manager's not around. What you say, sport?'

This was the perfect time for me to say `yes' and not mean
it. Unfortunately, my cock wanted me to say `yes' and mean
it in spades. In fact, my cock wanted me to say `sod the
manager, let's carry on wanking'.

`He's thinking about it, Frank,' said John, releasing my
five-inch stem and plunging his hand into my Y-fronts for
an exploratory grope.

`C'mon, sport. What you say?'

`Yes, yes,' I said nervously. `I'll be here next Tuesday
afternoon. I promise.'

`Did you hear that, Frank, he's promised,' said John,
toying with the orbs inside my hairless ball-sac. `Tell you
what. Let's go outside and take a walk in the park.'

`Yeah, button up, sport,' said Frank. `The three of us can
take the air and talk about sex and such like.'

The park backed directly onto the rear of the cinema, and
that's where we ended up some ten to fifteen minutes later.
The base of the cinema wall was lined with scores of
displaced gravestones: the park had been a church cemetery
before the area was bombed during the Second World War.

A small grass-covered clearing, located between the cinema
wall and a dense line of bushes, was the perfect place to
have an unseen, open-air sex romp with a fourteen-year-old
schoolboy.

Frank, the taller of the two men, was in his early forties,
unshaven and rugged-looking. He wore a shabby, dark brown
suit and a pair of dilapidated brogues. His blond hair was
cropped, and even though he wasn't dirty or smelly, he did
look like a tall, skinny tramp.

John was in his late twenties or early thirties. He too was
blond, rugged-looking and thin. However, he looked nothing
like a tramp. He wore a navy-blue pull-over and reefer
jacket, blue jeans and a pair of black, Tuff boots. His
hair was a little longer than Frank's and he had a small
bluebird tattooed on the back of his right hand.

`Right-tee-ho, Trevor,' said Frank. `Let's see what you
look like with nothing on.'

`Nothing on!' I said in a high pitch voice. `What, naked
like?'

`Yep, that's it, son,' replied John. `In the nuddy; the
nude; starkers!'

The two men pushed me against a cracked marble gravestone
and started unbuttoning my shirt and shorts. They were very
strong, and I knew that they could easily rip my clothes if
I continued to resist them. I gave up the instant Frank
tried to pull my shirt over my head - my mother would have
gone berserk if I came home with a torn shirt.

`Okay, okay. Let me do it,' I said in a hoarse whisper.
`What do you want me to take off first?'

`Your shirt and vest,' replied Frank, as he let go of my
crumpled shirt. `Then your shoes and socks; and lastly your
shorts and Y-fronts.'

`And as they come off, you give them to me,' added John.

I unbuttoned my shirt and took it off. My vest, shoes and
socks quickly followed. The grass beneath my feet was long
and dry, so I had no problem standing barefoot in the
clearing. Frank insisted on helping me remove my shorts and
underpants.

`Sweet, real sweet,' said Frank, as he handed over my Y-
fronts to John. `We've struck gold here, Johnny boy;
twenty-four carat gold!'

I nervously twiddled with my hair as the two men stepped
back and studied my puny, adolescent body. I was very
embarrassed, and this embarrassment grew as the two men
compared notes.

`Look at those tiny nipples, Frank,' admired John. `And
check out that ribcage, belly button and stiffy. The skin
covering his ribs is drum-tight and so-o-o pale. Hmm...'

`Yeah, it's as tight and white as his foreskin. And check
out those lips. Jeez, he'll be sucking cock for England by
Bonfire Night.'

`Sooner, I bet.'

`Turn round and face the headstones, sport,' said Frank,
taking off his jacket and spreading it out on the grass.
`Let's have a look at your arse.'

`That's it, son,' added John. `Turn round, spread your legs
a bit and put your hands on your hips.'

My cheeks were burning up with embarrassment. So to save a
few more blushes I gladly turned round, spread my legs and
put my hands on my hips.

`Now that's a sight for sore eyes,' said Frank. `The boy
looks like an angel but clearly wants a couple of old
perverts like us to turn him into a horny, little devil.
Ain't that right, sport?'

`C'mon, Trevor,' prompted John. `Wiggle your bum and answer
the man.'

Suddenly I felt the warmth of Frank's breath on the back of
my neck as he decided to forego my answer and take
possession of my body. My cock twitched with excitement as
I was pulled back and down onto his jacket.

`Attaboy, sport,' soothed Frank, as he lay beside me. Just
relax and let me do all the work.'

As John turned and disappeared into the bushes I heard, off
to my left, the eerie sound of a crow calling its mate. The
crow called out again as John and my clothes left the park
and headed back to the cinema.

`He'll be back soon,' soothed Frank, taking hold of my
aching erection between his forefinger and thumb. `He's
just gone to get "the man with the most" ... Lloyd's big,
black cock is nearly ten inches long when riled.'

I tried to protest about the loss of my clothes, but Frank
pulled me close and began stroking my stem to calm me down;
and as he did so, a second crow called out to the first and
crashed about in the bushes nearby. The old bird had seen
many a young boy being introduced to oral and anal sex in
the bushes.

`Just think of us as your three challenges,' explained
Frank, squeezing my cock real hard between his finger and
thumb. `If you take the three of us on and win - and you'll
have no trouble in doing that with those lips of yours -
you can be assured of rumpy pumpy for the rest of the
school holiday.'

My cheeks were still burning up with embarrassment, but my
cock wasn't going to let my timid nature get in the way of
what it craved. It had brought me this far, against all the
warnings I had received on the subject of going off with
strange men, and was determined to get as much rumpy pumpy
as possible over the next six weeks.

`Ronnie, my mate, showed me a picture of a woman sucking a
man's cock once,' I said excitedly. `Do you want me to suck
your cock?'

`That's it,' replied Frank. `I want you to suck my cock,
John's cock and Lloyd's cock. Is that okay with you,
sport?'

I shrugged my shoulders, smiled and said `If you want me
to.'

`That's great, Trevor,' said Frank, grinning. `And as a
reward, I'll take you for a ride in the back of my van
tomorrow and suck your cock. Deal?'

`Yeah, why not,' I replied boldly.

Frank continued to keep my aching cock on the brink of a
climax until John and Lloyd turned up. The poor thing
twitched incessantly as the man increased and decreased his
stroke rate to suit the moment; and when his friends did
eventually arrive, he put the climax on hold until I had
completed my three challenges, the bastard.

* * *

The three men stood before me in a semicircle as I knelt on
Frank's jacket and watched them unbuckle their belts and
lower their jeans and trousers.

Each cock bounced into view semi-erect and begging for
attention. They swayed up and down and from side to side,
twitching with excitement, as their owners made them ready
for my first cock-sucking outing.

`Open your mouth, rude boy,' said Lloyd, as he smiled and
stroked his black mamba. `Let's see that tongue of yours.
C'mon, stick it out.'

I did as I was told and watched his massive uncut cock rise
to the occasion. It looked so big compared to Frank and
John's uncut erections. Don't get me wrong, the cocks
flanking the black mamba were long, maybe seven to eight
inches long, but Lloyd's ebony stem was going to be the
real challenge of the day.

Tentatively I took hold of the two white cocks as Lloyd fed
the mamba's dark purple knob into my mouth.

`Look up, boy,' said Lloyd. `Let's see those bright red
cheeks and baby blue eyes.'

`He colours up real quick,' said John to Lloyd. `The little
sod's so fuckin' cute, and so fuckin' fuckable!'

`Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Johnny boy,' rebuked
Frank. `Trevor needs to learn how to walk before he can
run. So button it!'

`Alright, Frank,' replied John sheepishly. `I only...'

`That's it, boy,' interrupted Lloyd, putting his hands on
my head. `Open wide for Roger the Lodger.'

I gulped and nearly gagged as the man's bulbous knob, which
was slimy with pre-cum, hit the back of my mouth.

`Easy, blue eyes,' he continued, pulling back a little.
`Breathe through your nose ... That's it.'

The crow perched in the bushes suddenly took off and flew
away, screeching out a frenzied warning as it did so. This
prompted the three men to freeze and listen out for what
had spooked the bird. Nearby, on the path that ran through
the park, a man called out `Come here, boy'; and then, when
that didn't work, `Laddie, heel'.

`Fucking dogs,' whispered Frank. `The only good dog is a
hot dog, with mustard.'

`The only good dog is a dog with its dick up its owner's
arse,' laughed Lloyd, when the man and his dog had been
reunited by the water fountain, which stood in the centre
of the park.

For some reason the image of a naked man being mounted by a
big, black dog was imprinted on my subconscious that day. I
had no idea whether a man could actually be fucked by a
dog, but the very thought of it intrigued me.

With the man and his dog gone, the three friends resumed
their afternoon delight. Frank and John wrapped their hands
around my hands and began wanking themselves off. I grunted
as the West Indian pushed forward and filled my mouth with
a little more cock.

Lloyd was about the same age as John. He was well-built and
a tad taller than John. His skin was coal-black, his hair
close-cropped and he had a neatly trimmed Van Dyke beard
and moustache. The usher's uniform he wore was ill-fitting
and dark green in colour. It was decorated with brass
buttons and gold braid, and had a gold stripe running down
the outside of each trouser leg.

`Attaboy, sport,' said Frank. `Keep sucking on that big,
black cock. Make it give up its seed; and don't forget to
swallow every drop.'

`Caution, boy, said Lloyd. `Don't you go choking on my love
juice. If you can't swallow it, don't fret. It's no big
deal.'

`That's right, son,' added John. `It took me a while to
swallow a full load. The man's a spunk factory!'

I gagged as the mamba hit the back of my mouth and tried to
go further. Lloyd pulled back to help me recover, and as he
did so, I ran the tip of my tongue over his cock-head. He
groaned and waited for me to clear my throat and regain my
composure; he then fed his cock back into my mouth and
began face-fucking me.

As Lloyd's body went rigid, I tightened my grip on the two
throbbing cocks that flanked the black mamba. The West
Indian gave out a long, low moan of satisfaction as he
flooded my mouth with warm, salty sperm. I gagged again as
my throat closed instinctively to prevent the viscous
liquid reaching my stomach.

`Fucking sweet,' said Lloyd in a long outward breath.

It was then that Frank muttered something under his breath
and suddenly stopped wanking. Alas it was too late: a
forceful jet of spunk flew through the air and hit me high
on the left cheek, just below the eye, then trickled down
to join the stuff leaking out of my mouth. John laughed as
another spurt of Frank's seed hit me in the same spot.

Frank released my hand, threw back his head and started
swearing under his breath. I squeezed his stem a few times
in a `there, there, let's make it better' sort of way, but
it didn't seem to help the man who had just missed out on a
blowjob.

Lloyd withdrew his cock and told me to spit out his load
and concentrate on `licking John's todger into shape'.

`Give it a good seeing to,' said John, as he pulled back
the foreskin and fed the cock-head into my mouth.

After the black mamba, John's todger was a lot easier to
handle. With spunk dripping from my chin, I ran my tongue
over the shiny knob and along the smooth, steely length.

`Take hold of his bollocks,' said Lloyd. `Give his ball-bag
a squeeze ... Go on! Don't be scared.'

John suddenly upped the tempo and started face-fucking me
in a serious way. This prevented me from taking hold of his
ball-sac, which annoyed the West Indian.

`That's it, Johnny boy,' said Frank, returning to the fold
after a few minutes sulk. `Turn the sprog into a cock-
sucking sex pet. C'mon, you can do it!'

Frank knelt down beside me and took hold of my flaccid
cock, which had been left to wither while I satisfied the
men.

`Your cock's shrunk down to nothing,' he said ruefully. `I
shouldn't have left it unattended for so long. Sorry about
that, sport.'

The maestro had my cock up and running again in no time at
all; and it felt a whole lot stiffer than before.

`That's better,' he whispered into my ear. `You really like
me doing this, don't you, sport?'

With a mouth full of cock, my reply was a little garbled
and needed a nod of the head to get the message across.

`Your cock feels so hard,' he said. `And that knob of yours
is getting darker and darker. I think your gonna come and
beat Johnny boy to the draw.'

`No way, José,' said John, taking up the challenge. `I'm
nearly there.'

`He's got you beat, boy,' taunted Frank. `The sprog's gonna
shed his load before you.'

Lloyd began to massage John's bare buttocks with his big,
broad hand. The race was now on and I was enjoying every
second of it.

`C'mon, John,' encouraged Lloyd. `You can't let this little
fellow beat you. Empty that ball-bag of spunk into his
mouth.'

Frank suddenly stopped stroking my swollen erection, but
still held it firmly between his forefinger and thumb.

`I can't wait to see you come, sport,' he purred. `I love
watching boys shoot their load; it's a real turn-on for
me.'

My cock twitched and demanded more attention. John was
almost there, and the vice-like grip he now had on my head
was starting to hurt.

Frank cupped my left buttock in his right hand and squeezed
it gently. He then resumed stroking my cock: using slow,
full-length strokes. The base of my stem ached as he held
me on the very brink of a climax.

`Yes! Yes! Yes!' announced John triumphantly, `Fuckin'
yes!'

The race was over; but I didn't give a hoot. The victor was
now filling my mouth with white, salty seed; and as he did
so, I felt a heavy pounding in my groin. Then, too late to
claim the prize, a forceful jet of sperm leapt from my
cock-head and hit John on the leg, just below the left
kneecap. Two more jets arced through the air as Frank
squeezed my buttock real hard and ran a finger over my
slippery, purple knob.

`What a performance,' said Lloyd. `The boy's really got
what it takes to join our club. Let's make his member a
member. All those in favour, say aye.'

The men laughed as John withdrew his glistening length from
my mouth, which allowed the sperm to ooze out of the
orifice and onto my chin. Frank quickly ran the palm of his
hand over my wet lips, and saying `aye', wiped it over my
face.

`Cock cream is good for the complexion,' said John,
grinning. `It'll keep you young and good-looking; and if
you swallow it, you're cock will grow and grow.'

`Just like your nose,' said Lloyd to John, as he slapped
him hard across the buttocks.

`More please, Sir,' said John, bending forward and
thrusting out his arse-cheeks.

`Later, later,' snapped Frank. `Let's get Trevor cleaned up
and dressed. The poor sod looks done in.'

`I'm alright,' I said breathlessly. `I don't have to be in
until five o'clock, so we can do it again if you want.'

`Maybe next time,' said Lloyd. `I'm late already, so Beth's
sure to tell the manager when he comes in at six o'clock;
she's sweet on him.'

`I thought the manager was already in, and searching for
me,' I said, confused.

The three men laughed as they helped me to my feet and
began groping me.

`If we'd told you any different, sport, you wouldn't be in
the bushes with us now,' said Frank.

`We knew you wanted to get your cock out, son,' said John,
lying. `You just needed a little encouragement. Am I
right?'

`Well, maybe. I'm not really sure...'

`Is it going to be a problem?' interrupted Frank.

`No. Not really, but... but...'

`Good. So let's get on with it,' said Lloyd. `Clean the boy
up, get him dressed and give him five bob.'

`I said half-a-crown,' grumbled Frank. `Five bob's too
much, especially when I didn't get a blowjob.'

`I'll give you one now,' I said. `Instead of the money; I
don't want any money.'

`I knew you were one of us,' said John, as he continued to
explore my arse-crack and bum-hole. `You up for another
meeting tomorrow; say around ten? We can pick you up in the
van. Do you know where White Horse Lane is?'

I nodded my head to both questions as Frank buttoned
himself up and went off to the water fountain, carrying two
handkerchiefs for the big clean up.

- - - - -

Copyright, February 2006

Join the discussion (attaboy-jo-jo@hotmail.co.uk): what is
going to happen to Trevor when he climbs into the back of
Frank's van? Comments and constructive criticism welcome.

- - - - -