Date: Fri, 11 Nov 2016 18:04:02 +0000
From: Andy Brown <andybrown2000@outlook.com>
Subject: Tutoring Dylan - chapter 8

Tutoring Dylan - chapter 8


Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction which features sexual
activity between a teenage boy and a grown man.  If you do not want to read
such a story, or it is illegal for you to do so because of your age or
where you live, then I recommend you go read something else instead.  The
characters in this story do in fact exist. However, none of the things in
this story have ever happened. Also, clearly to protect the characters, I
have changed their names and some facts about their lives.

This story is property of the author; please do not post it elsewhere
without the author's permission.

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Thanks to everyone for the continued feedback, both from my regular readers
and new ones.  Please keep it coming; it's a great motivator.

***

From the end of chapter 7:

Pretty soon we were both dry and had gotten dressed again.  I hurriedly
stripped his bed whilst Dylan went to fetch some new sheets.

"Now go put these sheets in the washer," I told him, as I handed him the
chocolate and strawberry stained items.

"But what will mum say when she sees them in there?" he queried.

"Just tell her they were getting a bit smelly so you thought you'd be
helpful and put them in to wash," I replied.  "Oh, and can you bring a
dishcloth back up with you.  We're going to need to clean these walls."

Whilst Dylan took the sheets downstairs I pulled his bed away from the
walls and put the fresh sheets on.  Soon Dylan returned with a damp cloth
and I managed to get the walls cleaned.

"Right," I said, picking up my carrier bag.  "It's time I was heading off."

Together Dylan and I walked downstairs.  We stopped in the hallway to share
a slow, lingering kiss.

"See you soon," I said to him.

"Yeah, see ya," he replied.  "And thanks for today.  It was awesome!"



***


Since my food-fight with Dylan, the week had flown by.  I'd volunteered for
some overtime at work as we were slightly short staffed with people going
away for their summer holidays.  It would also help me get back in my
manager's good books after having taken a couple of days 'off sick'
recently.  I'd ended up working for nine days straight, leaving me very
little time to do much else aside from sleep, eat and have a couple of runs
out on my bike.  I'd also been busy preparing for my next few sessions with
Dylan, which had taken a fair bit of planning and organising.  He'd now
broken up for the summer holiday, giving us more opportunities to spend
time together.

Finishing work early, I pulled up outside Dylan's house.  His mum answered
the door.

"Hi Sandra," I greeted her.

"Hi Andy," she replied.  "How are things?"

"Good, good.  Been incredibly busy at work.  How about you?"

"Yeah, fine.  Dean's working late and Imogen's out with some friends, so
it's just me and the boys tonight."

"Okay.  Can you keep Tommy out of the way for a while whilst I go up and
see Dylan?  I've got my surprise to give him."

"Yeah, sure.  I think I'll take him down to the park for an hour or so -
give you a bit of space."  Suddenly her eyes widened.  "Oh!  You mean you
haven't told him yet?  I knew he hadn't begun packing, but I thought that
was just him being a typical boy!"

"No.  I thought I'd leave it as a surprise.  Everything's still okay for it
though?" I asked.

"Oh yes.  Absolutely fine.  I've let his coaches know he won't be at
training this week."  She smiled.  "I'm sure he'll be bouncing off the
walls when you tell him."

We both giggled.  Sandra walked through to the hallway, closing the door
behind her.

"Dylan!" she called.  "There's someone here to see you."

"Okay!" came Dylan's voice in the distance.  "I'll be right down."

The sound of an elephant stampede filled the house as Dylan thundered down
the stairs.  Suddenly the door burst open.

"Andy!" he shouted excitedly.  "I was wondering if you'd be round again
soon."

"Well here I am," I told him, looking him up and down as I did so.
Although it was probably my imagination, he looked to have grown a couple
of centimetres.  Perhaps it was the fact he was wearing shorts and a
singlet, showing off his elongated arms and legs.  His hair was shorter
than usual, obviously only being cut in the last couple of days.

"Are we going up to my room then?" he asked eagerly.

"Yeah, sure," I said, chuckling to myself.  Was this boy ever not horny?

As we entered his room, I closed his blind and sat next to him on his bed.

"I've got something for you," I said.

His eyes lit up like an infant on Christmas morning.  "Ohhh," he gasped,
bouncing on the bed.  "What is it?  What is it?"

I handed him a small package of silver paper.  Like a savage dog, he set to
work, ripping it open.  Two small pieces of cloth fell out onto his lap.
He picked one up and opened it out.

"Holy fuck!" he called out.  "What is this?"

Dylan stared at the item in his hands.  It was a pair of red low-rise
bikini swimwear with a drawstring waist and a white stripe on either side.

"It's a pair of swimming trunks," I said calmly.  "They're for you."  I
placed a hand on his thigh.

"I gathered that!" he replied.  "I didn't think they were for you - they
wouldn't fit!  But you can't expect me to wear them for diving practice.
They're even skimpier than my usual pair!"

"Oh, they're not for diving practice," I smirked.  "Why don't you have a
look at the other ones."

Placing the red pair down on the bed, Dylan picked up the second gift.
Opening it out, Dylan began to blush.

"But these are white!"  He sounded horrified.  "If I go to practice in
these, everyone will see - everything!"

"Aha.  Now turn them round."

He did.  His mouth dropped open.

"But they... there's no... I can't..." he stammered as he looked at the
thin strip of white nylon that ran down from the waistband.

"Don't you like them?" I queried, doing my best to look upset.

"Well... it's just that... I... I..." he struggled.  He took a deep breath.
"There's no way I can wear these.  Everyone at the pool will see my arse!"

I chuckled.  "But it's such a cute arse."  I ran my hand further up his
thigh, resting it at the side of his butt.  He frowned.  "Perhaps this will
help," I said, handing him an envelope.

Apprehensively he began to tear it open.  Reaching inside, he pulled out a
rectangular strip of card.  Dylan looked at it inquisitively.  Then it
suddenly dawned on him.

"Are you taking me on holiday?" he asked.

"Got it in one!"

"Cool," he said, throwing his arms around me.  "This is gonna be awesome!"
He looked down at the aeroplane ticket again.  "But this says the flight's
tomorrow?"

"Yup," I replied.  "You best get packed.  We've got to be at the airport
for 11 and it'll take us a couple of hours to get over to Manchester."

"Okay.  But what do I need to take?  How long are we going for?  What's the
weather going to be like?  And where on earth is Bourgas?" he asked, firing
questions at me like a machine gun.

"It's up to you what you pack really.  Bourgas is in Bulgaria, but we'll
actually be staying in a little town on the Black Sea coast called Obzor.
We'll be there for 4 days.  The weather's meant to be good - really sunny
and around 30 degrees, so you won't need many clothes.  Maybe something
nice to wear for dinner in the evenings, but a lot of the time you won't
need anything on."

I winked at Dylan.  He grinned back.

"Oh, and don't forget these," I said to him, picking up the swimwear he'd
discarded.

"You're kidding, right?" he said.

"I bloody well am not," I told him.  "I didn't spend good money on them for
you never to put them on."

"Oh," he said, sounding slightly taken aback.  "You mean, you actually want
me to wear them?"

"Of course I do."  He blushed again.  "There's no need to be embarrassed.
You've got an amazing body.  Why not show it off?  And besides, there won't
be anyone there you know."

"I suppose not," he said, a little glumly.

"Here's an idea," I suggested.  "Why don't you give me a little show now,
and then we can have a bit of fun before I have to go."

"Deal," Dylan replied, standing up and pulling off his singlet.  His shorts
soon followed, leaving him wearing just a pair of tight black boxer briefs.
The sight of this gorgeous, nearly naked boy gave me an instant hard-on.
"Which pair do you want me to try on first?" he asked.

"Red," I replied, slowly stroking my hard cock through the fabric of my
trousers.

He turned around and lowered his underwear.  His amazing arse came into
view.  My cock hardened.  Dylan bent down to pull on the red bikini
swimwear, giving me a flash of his cum-filled boy balls.

"You ready?" he asked, as he pulled up the spandex bathing suit.

"Oh yeah," I replied hungrily.

Turning around, Dylan looked heavenly.  The trunks were a perfect fit, cut
high at the sides and with an ample sized pouch which he filled out nicely
with his obviously hard dick.  Checking him out had led my penis to become
uncomfortably hard.  I was as horny as a bull in the middle of a field of
heifers during mating season.  Unbuckling my belt, I opened the top of my
trousers.  I pulled down the waistband of my boxers, releasing my rigid
cock and hooking my pants under my ballsac.

"You approve then?" Dylan asked.

"My god, I approve.  You're fucking sex on legs!"  Grasping my penis, I
began to stroke it to emphasise what I meant.

Dylan took a step towards me and then climbed onto the bed, his knees
either side of my own.  Reaching down, he nudged my fingers off my cock,
replacing them with his own.  My erection pulsed in his delicate digits.

"Oh, yeah," I moaned.  "That feels so good."

Slowly, Dylan slid his fingers up and down my shaft.  I could feel the cum
churning in my balls.

"Ohhhh.  Aaahhhh," I panted.  "Keep on going."

Continuing to stroke my cock with his right hand, Dylan brought his left
upwards, his nimble fingers beginning to unbutton my shirt.  With the first
few buttons unfastened, he worked his hand onto my chest.  Ripples went
through my body.  He grazed over my nipple, sending a wave of pleasure
right through me.

He continued to circle my nipple as he leaned towards my mouth.  Our lips
met.  I felt Dylan's tongue quickly prodding at my lips, wanting to gain
access.  Opening my mouth, I let the sweet flavour of his saliva enter me.
Our tongues duelled passionately.  I lifted my hands, placing them onto his
spandex covered arse.  I could feel the muscles from his gymnastics in
those firm cushions of flesh.  I slowly kneaded them as we kissed.  Dylan
moaned as he continued to pump my cock.

"This is so hot," Dylan said, breaking the kiss.

"Why don't you show me how the other swimsuit looks?" I suggested.

Reluctantly, Dylan pulled away, leaving my throbbing dick on the verge of
shooting.  Untying the drawstring, he shucked the bikini down his legs.
His penis stood out from the rest of his body, its circumcised head shiny
with precum.

In the first pair of swimwear Dylan had looked hot.  In the white thong, he
was smoking!  The colour perfectly contrasted with his olive skin.  The
fabric was translucent, showing off his hard cock and grape size balls.
Even his patch of pubic hair could be seen through the material.

"How do I look?" he asked, a big grin on his face, as if he already knew
the answer.

I didn't respond.  Instead, I pulled off the rest of my clothes and threw
them onto the floor.  Unexpectedly, Dylan walked over to his wardrobe.
Opening the door, he pulled out his school tie.

Making his way back towards me, he stood on the bed, his crotch level with
my face.  I couldn't help but inhale.  Sweet, yet musky.  Hints of vanilla
and cinnamon.  I became lost in the aroma he was secreting.

Startled out of my haze, I noticed Dylan had grabbed both of my hands and
had pulled them behind my back.  The little devil was tying them together.
I began to struggle but it was too late.  Try as I might, I couldn't get
them free.

Ever so slowly, Dylan hooked his thumbs into the waistband and slid the
swimsuit down his legs.  His cock sprang free, hitting his abs and leaving
a trail of precum behind.  Grabbing hold of his hard dick, he shuffled
forwards.  More than anything in the world, I longed to reach out and touch
it, but the restraints wouldn't budge.

Closer and closer it got to my face, until finally it made contact with my
cheek.  The spongy head prodded against my face.  Teasing me, Dylan began
to move his rod over my skin, leaving a trail of watery pre-jizz behind.
After what felt like a lifetime, he moved towards my mouth.  I opened up,
longing to suck on his beautiful boy-stick.  Dylan pulled away.

"Come on Dylan," I pleaded.  "You're killing me here."

Taking pity on me, his penis headed towards my still opened mouth.  But at
the last moment, he moved upwards, instead running the tip of his boy cock
over my upper lip.  He pulled away before I had chance to react, my tongue
making contact with thin air.  Working upwards, I licked up the trail he
had left behind on my lip, savouring its sweetness.

"Nnnnggghhh!" I cried out in frustration.  "Please, Dylan!"

Ignoring my pleas, he turned around.  There it was, his wonderfully
sculpted bottom.  He jumped off the bed, and spent a few moments fiddling
with his iPad.  The sounds of 'Single Ladies' by Beyonce soon filled the
room.

Dylan hopped back onto the bed, his arse mere centimetres from my face.  He
began to dance in time with the music, his buttocks jiggling as he did so.
I was overcome with lust.  My cock was throbbing so much I wondered if I
would shoot without even touching it.

Turning his head to look at me, Dylan began to run his hands up and down
his own body.  Watching him, my mind was delirious with lust.

He turned around and continued dancing.  His hands now worked their way
across his chest and down his abdomen.  Licking a finger, he played with a
nipple.  His dick twitched; he was clearly enjoying teasing me.  Keeping in
time to the beat, he ran his fingers once more down his sides, massaging
his thighs.  As he did so, he thrust his hips in front of my face, droplets
of precum splattering all over me.

Grazing his pubes with his left hand, he took his leaking dick in his
right.  Smearing his natural lubricant over its head, he began to wank his
penis.  Soon his hand became a blur; his eyes closed and he tilted his head
back as he sank to his knees.

"Oh, fuck!" he screamed.  "Here it comes!"

The head of his cock opened as he fired three white streamers.  He moaned,
noisily.  The first spurt hit me on the cheek, the second on my chest, and
the third splattered on to my abs before trickling down into my pubes and
onto my dick.  It felt almost painfully hot where it landed, and the scent
of teenage spunk filled the air.  The smell was intoxicating!

Dylan dropped to his knees, exhausted from the show he'd just put on.  A
few smaller spurts dribbled out onto his fingers.

"Do me now!" I growled at him.  "Please Dylan!  Wank me off!"

"As you wish," he panted, trying to regain his breath after his orgasm.

He reached out with his cum stained hand and grasped my cock.  I moaned
with delight at the feeling of his soft fingers around my erection.  Moving
his hand up and down, he began to jerk me off.  It wouldn't take long, I
thought to myself, my body humming with pleasure.  Within a matter of
moments, I could feel my cum beginning to rise.

Like a geyser going off, I exploded, my pent-up jizz flying everywhere.
Taking deep gasping breaths, I slumped backwards on the bed.  The feelings
coursing through me were so intense.  For a moment, I blacked out.

Opening up my eyes, I could see Dylan had already started wiping his chest
and crotch where some of my cum had hit him.  Once finished, he handed me
the towel.  Shakily, I began to mop up the remnants of our combined
orgasms, which had plastered not only my chest, abs and pubic area, but
also my face and neck.

"That was wicked!" he announced.  "I can't wait to see what we get up to in
Bulgaria."

"No," I replied.  "Neither can I."  I smirked, knowing exactly what I'd got
planned and how enjoyable I hoped it would be.


***


As promised, I picked Dylan up at 9 o'clock the following morning.  He
greeted me with a big hug and an even bigger grin.  After saying his
goodbyes, he put his luggage in the boot.

The drive to the airport took a little longer than I'd hoped for, a
combination of road works near Dylan's village and tailbacks on the
motorway.  Dylan was a bundle of energy, asking me numerous questions about
what Obzor was like, what facilities the hotel had, and what we would be
doing when we got there.  I did my best to answer him, though I could sense
his frustration with my very brief responses about what we were going to
get up to.

After parking up the car, we headed into the airport terminal.  Heading out
of the office for a while, Dean met us at the check-in desk.  After talking
to the manager and giving his permission for me to take Dylan away, he gave
his son a hug and went back to work.  To say we were only going for three
days, Dylan's suitcase came alarmingly close to the allowed weight.  I had
to pay a small surcharge for my baggage.  I'd expected as much, given the
weight of a couple of items I'd brought along for Dylan's education.

Our suitcases safely labelled and sent down the conveyor belt, we made our
way to security.  After placing our wallets, watches, phones, etc. in a
plastic tray we waited our turn to go through the scanner.  I went first,
passing through without a problem.  Dylan followed behind me.  Bleep!

"Excuse me, young man," a burly security guard said to him.  "Step over
here please."

Dylan did as instructed.

"Is everything okay, sir?" I asked, approaching them.

"And you are?" the guard queried.

"I'm his uncle," I responded.  "On his mother's side," I added, in case he
decided to scrutinise our passports.

The guard looked at me suspiciously.  "We just need to do a body check.
Nothing to worry about."  He turned to Dylan.  "Have you got anything in
your pockets?  Are you wearing a belt."

"No sir," Dylan replied.  "I put everything in the tray."

"Right.  Lift your arms up and spread your legs," the guard instructed.

Dylan hesitated.  The guard grabbed his wrists and lifted his arms so they
were outstretched.  He then began to pat down Dylan's arms, attempting to
find the source of the problem.  Nothing.  He continued down Dylan's sides.
Still nothing.  Finally he kicked Dylan's feet apart, and then patted down
both of Dylan's legs.

"Hummm," the guard grunted.  "Take your shoes and socks off.  Leave them
over there."  He pointed to where I was standing.

Once Dylan had done so, the guard ordered him to go back through the
scanner.  It bleeped once more.

"Are you sure you've got nothing in your pockets," the guard growled.

"Yes sir," Dylan replied.  "I emptied everything out."

"Right," the guard sighed.  "Take your shorts off then."

"What, here?" Dylan asked, looking terribly embarrassed.  "In front of
everyone?"

"Yes!  Now hurry up!"

Hesitantly, Dylan slid down his shorts.  The reason for his embarrassment
was immediately clear.  There was an obvious bulge in the front of his
pants.  His patting down by the security guard has given him a boner.
Dylan's cheeks flushed crimson.  He looked to be on the verge of tears.
Placing the shorts on top of his trainers, he made his third walk through
the scanner.  This time, there was no noise.

"Pass me the shorts," the guard instructed me.

I handed them to him.  He began to rummage through each of the pockets.

"Aha!" he exclaimed, pulling a coin out of the back pocket.  The guard
looked disappointed.  "Still, better to be safe than sorry."  He threw them
to Dylan who quickly pulled them back on.  Without Dylan realising, I'd
slipped the penny into his pocket this morning when he hugged me.  I knew
it would make an interesting show!


***


With still nearly an hour before we were due to board, I suggested to Dylan
we get something to eat.  Soon we were sat at a table in one of the
restaurants, him with a cheese and bacon burger, me with a bowl of mac n'
cheese.

The food was good but our conversation was stilted.  Dylan looked rather
gloomy after his experience with the security guard.  My plan had backfired
and I didn't know what to say to cheer him up.

"Dylan," I said, putting down my knife and fork.  "There's something I need
to tell you."

"Okay," he replied, looking concerned.

"It's about that coin," I began.  "The one the guard found in your pocket."

"What about it?" Dylan asked.

"Well...I put it there."

"You?  You put it there?  But, why?"

"I'm sorry.  I thought you'd find it hot, being forced to strip in front of
other people.  Particularly after what you did yesterday.  And when you
took your shorts off and you were hard, I thought I was right.  But then I
could see how uncomfortable and scared you were, and I realised it was a
stupid idea."

Dylan didn't say anything.

"I really am sorry," I told him.

"It's okay," he replied, at last.  "It wasn't a stupid idea.  I get why you
did it.  I guess I'm not ready for anyone else to see me like that yet."

I was confused.  "But what about when you're diving?  Then you're only
wearing your speedos.  Don't you ever get hard then?"

"No," he said casually. "I'm so focused on what I'm doing, it doesn't
happen."

I still found it odd.  Here's a boy who will happily wear speedos and
gymnastics tunics in front of a crowd.  Who'll do a striptease for me in
his bedroom.  Who seems to get hard in front of me at the drop of a hat.
And yet, he gets mortally embarrassed when a few people at airport security
may, or may not, have seen him in his pants with an erection.


***


After touching down in Bourgas and collecting our bags, we boarded the
coach to Obzor.  An hour and a half later, we arrived at our hotel.

As we approached the complex, I was struck by how bright and modern it
looked.  A clean, white facade with two domed towers protruding from either
end.  Receiving a warm welcome at reception, we were soon led to our third
floor room.

"Wow!" Dylan exclaimed.  "The room's massive.  And, oh cool, we've even got
a balcony.  But why've we got two beds?"

"Because, my nephew," I began, realising the porter was still in the room
with us.  "I thought it would be easier to share a room rather than having
to pay out for separate ones."

Dylan turned around, looking as if he were about to argue.  He too noticed
the porter, which stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Thank you for assisting us with our cases," I said to the gentleman.
Opening up my wallet, I shoved a note into his hand.

"My pleasure," he replied in a thick accent, and headed out of the door.

"I don't know about you," I said to Dylan.  "But I need a shower before
dinner."

Dylan tugged down the arm of his t-shirt and sniffed.  "Yeah, I think I do
too."

"Then I'll let you go first," I told him.

"Awww!" he whined.  "Can't we go in together?"

"No," I said, though I was enormously tempted.  "Dinner's served in twenty
minutes and if I get in there with you, I can't imagine we'll be out in
time."

I patted his bum as he stomped towards the bathroom.

"Fine.  But you better make it up to me later."

"Oh, don't worry about that," I replied, knowing what I'd planned for the
rest of the evening.


***


By the time we arrived, the dining hall was nearly full.  Dylan had taken
longer in the shower than I'd have liked (no prizes for guessing why), and
had done a pretty poor job of cleaning up after himself.

We grabbed one of the few tables that were left and I told Dylan to go help
himself to the food.  Like many European hotels, it was a buffet with a
mixture of local and international dishes.  Dotted around the serving area
were several chefs, all of who appeared to be cooking a variety of
char-grilled meats and vegetable dishes.

Dylan returned to the table, his plate laden high with a whole variety of
foods.

"Hungry, are we?" I asked him.

"Very!" he replied, tucking into a lamb chop.

Leaving him to devour his pile, I went to help myself to the buffet.  The
selection was amazing: a whole variety of salads, meats, roasted
vegetables, and grains.

By the time I had returned to the table, Dylan had already devoured half
his plateful.  Obviously having waited for me to sit down, a waiter came
over.

"Can I get you drinks?" he asked.

"Some red wine for me," I replied.  "Dylan?  What would you like?"

"Perhaps wine for your son too?" the waiter interrupted.  "In Bulgaria,
boys drink at 14 years old."

"Actually, he's my nephew," I told him.  "But yes, why not.  Wine for us
both."

"I go bring," he said, before hurrying away.

"So," I asked Dylan, "do you still see any of your class mates from primary
school?"

"Some of them," he replied.  "I'm still good friends with Jack.  And I
sometimes hang out with Oscar, as you know.  Freddie went off to St
Wilfred's along with Steph, so I don't really see them anymore.  Oh, and
Benjamin went to some posh boarding school up in Northumberland, so I only
see him in the holidays.  We've sort of drifted apart.  Most of the rest I
still see around school, but we're all mixed up in different forms and
sets.  I still get along well with Tyler who's in my class for PE, and I
see Robbie and Laura in Maths, and Scott and Johnny in science."

"Well, it's good to know you still see some of them around."

Our waiter came back over, carrying a carafe of red wine.

"Your wine, sirs," he announced, placing the glass bottle in the middle of
the table.

"Thanks," I said.  "That'll be all."

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Dylan said, excitedly.  "Harry came back from
Australia.  They arrived in the village again just after Christmas."

"You seen much of him?" I asked.

"A bit.  He's only in my English class.  But it's a bit weird.  He's been
away for three and a half years.  Things have changed.  We've all moved
on."

"Yeah," I said, sympathising with him.  "It can be like that sometimes.  I
remember when I moved back home after finishing at uni, it felt really
awkward meeting up with old school friends.  Somehow we'd all drifted
apart."

"I see Kate quite a bit too.  She goes to the same gymnastics club as me.
She's got a rocking body on her now."  I looked at him, confused.  "Though
she's not got the equipment I like," he added, reading the expression on my
face.

I poured us both a drink; Dylan's considerably less full than my own.  We
both took a sip and then went back to eating.  Every now and then, Dylan
would share an interesting titbit of information about one of his old
classmates.  Soon, we'd both cleared our plates.

"Ready for pudding?" I asked.  He nodded his head eagerly, so I sent him
off to help himself.  As he did so, I signalled for a waiter to remove our
plates.

Dylan returned with a modest plateful of sweet treats.  He was obviously
getting slightly full.  I left him for a few moments, going over to make my
own selection.

Returning to the table, we both took our time enjoying the desserts and
finishing off the wine.

"So, did you ever do anything with any of the lads in your class?" I asked.

"You mean, sex things?" he queried.

"Yeah.  Like with Jack maybe."

"Not really.  I've had quite a few sleepovers with Jack, and we've done the
whole 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours' thing, but nothing more
than that.  I'm pretty sure he's straight.  I don't want to push anything
in case it stops us being friends.  Though I wouldn't mind getting it on
with Harry - Australia's definitely improved him!"

I chuckled, imagining what he meant.  Harry was cute when I'd taught him as
a 9 year old.  If he'd matured like Dylan had, and with the added benefit
of Australian sun, I was sure he'd have become a right hottie!

"Some of us did a bit of messing around at the end of year 6," he went on.
"It was your fault really.  It was the week after the puberty lesson.  Me,
Jack, Freddie, Tyler, Craig and Johnny were playing in the woods, building
some dens.  We got a bit tired so had a sit down.  Someone, Craig I think,
started to talk about it, saying he'd seen his brother getting out of the
shower and how he was really hairy down there.  Then Freddie piped up that
he'd already started growing pubes, and said he bet that no one else in our
class had.  Jack said that he had, and I said that I had a few hairs too.
Craig didn't believe any of us, so demanded that we all show him.  Freddie
went first.  Then me and Jack did it together."

"After that Johnny spoke up," Dylan continued.  "He said he wondered how
big we'd all end up, saying that cos he was the tallest in the class then
surely he'd have the biggest dick.  We all got into a bit of an argument.
Tyler, who'd been really quiet so far, told us he'd read that most guys
ended up between five and a half and six and a half inches when hard.
Johnny then came out with 'Well I'm already six inches!'  None of us
believed him, and Freddie told him to prove it.  He said he would if
everyone else got theirs out and got hard too.  So we did.  We were all
pretty much erect anyway with all this talk about dicks and boners.  Johnny
was lying.  He was probably about four inches - a bit bigger than most of
us.  We were between two and three.  But Tyler beat us all hands down.  His
was five inches at least!"

"Anything else happen?" I asked, eagerly hoping they'd gone further.

"Freddie suggested we jack off.  Craig asked him what he meant.  Jack told
him it was another word for masturbating and reminded him of what you'd
said about it during the puberty lesson.  Several of us didn't know what to
do, so Freddie showed us.  Apparently he'd learned about it from an older
cousin and had been doing it for months.  Soon, we were all stroking away.
It was really cool watching the others doing it, and the noises we were
making were amazing.  Tyler told us to keep the noise down, in case anyone
heard us. Craig was the first to orgasm, then Freddie.  Neither of them
squirted anything.  Me and Johnny were next.  Both of us were dry too.  But
Jack shot a couple of drops into his belly button.  It gave him a right
shock!  Jack really surprised himself when he came, two small spurts
shooting out of his cock and into his belly button.  Tyler was last.  He
was dry as well.  But it was a one off.  We never did it again."

"Oh," I replied, slightly shocked that Dylan, this horny young teenager,
had a pretty limited experience of messing around with his mates.  Then I
remembered.  "And how are things with Luke?"

Dylan sighed.  "Still pretty shit.  We've chatted.  He's obviously confused
about what he likes.  I've told him he can talk to me anytime.  But it's
still awkward."

"Well, keep trying," I encouraged him.  "I'm sure he'll open up
eventually."  I looked down at our plates and glasses.  They were empty.
"Time to go back up to our room," I told him.  "I believe I've got some
making up to do for earlier."

Dylan's face lit up.


***


As we entered the room, I instructed Dylan to go wait in the bathroom while
I set a few things up.  I told him I'd call him when I was ready.

With Dylan safely out of sight, I set to work.  Stripping the sheets off
one of the beds, I replaced it with a long roll of paper.  I took a small
bag out of my suitcase, placing the tools I needed on top of the desk.
Finally, I put on a white lab coat and hung a stethoscope round my neck.
I'm going to enjoy this, I thought to myself.

"Dylan Williams," I called out.  "Please step into my office."

The bathroom door opened, and out came Dylan.  He had a confused look on
his face, unsure of what I'd just said.  As he looked around the room, his
eyes widened.

"Is this for real?" he asked in amazement.

"Of course it's for real, young man," I replied, getting into character.
"It is time for your medical examination.  Take off your trainers and then
step this way please."

He did as I'd instructed.  After slipping off his footwear, he walked over
to where I stood.

"You can keep your clothes on for now," I told him.  "First I need to take
some measurements.  Then I need to do some routine checks."

Turning around, I picked the tape measure up off the desk.  I proceeded to
measure his height, followed by his head circumference.  Grabbing my
clipboard, I made a note of the readings.

Putting down the tape measure, I picked up the otoscope.  Using it, I
looked into his right ear, then his left.  I, of course, had no idea what I
was looking for, but I thought these exercises would add something to the
atmosphere.

"Open your mouth please," I instructed.  "Stick your tongue out."

Dylan followed my commands.  I pushed the depressor onto his tongue and
told him to say 'Aaaahhhh'.

"All looks fine so far," I said, encouragingly.  "Slip your shirt off."

Dylan took off his shirt and laid it over the back of the chair.

"This next part may feel a little cold," I told him.

"Okay, doc," he said, getting into the part.

Pulling the stethoscope from around my neck, I fixed the two ear-pieces
into place.  Taking the bell in my hand, I placed it onto Dylan's chest.
He inhaled sharply.  Looking down, I could see his shorts were already
tented out.

"Take a slow breath in," I instructed, "and out."  I moved it to the other
side of his chest.  "In again... and out.  Very good," I said, pulling the
stethoscope out of my ears and placing it on the desk.  "Time for a bit
more measuring."

I started by measuring his neck, requiring me to stand very close and be
almost face to face (and lip to lip) with him.  He leaned forward slightly,
but I refused to break from my role.  Not yet, anyway.  Next came his arm
span from finger tip to finger-tip, which allowed me to see his armpits,
dusted with light brown hairs.  With his arms outstretched I was able to
inhale his scent.  Despite having recently showered, the Bulgarian heat had
caused him to perspire, allowing me to breath in that heady mixture of boy
sweat and Lynx bodyspray.  The reaction was instantaneous.  I was hard as a
rock.

I then measured him from armpit to finger-tip.  As my fingers made contact
with his pit, I made sure to give him a little tickle.  Dylan squirmed, his
giggle somehow making me even more aroused.

I carried on further down, this time measuring his chest.  My fingers
purposefully grazed his nipples, Dylan moaning as I did so.  Going down
further I tickled his sides, and then measured his slim waist.

"Shorts and socks off now," I instructed.  "Then sit on the edge of the
bed."  Dylan did as requested.  "Cross your knees for me," I told him.

Picking up the knee percussor, I tapped him with it.  His reaction was
perfect, his leg kicking straight out.  I repeated the exercise with his
other knee.

"Stand back up again please."

I continued my measurements.  Getting on my hands and knees, I measured
from his knee to his ankle, my hand running down the soft downy hair on his
calves as I did so.

It was then time to take his inside leg measurement.  I was torn.  The last
time we did this I got him to move his dick out of the way.  I knew he'd
have no problem with me doing it this time.  But would it turn him on more
to do things exactly as we'd done previously?

"Dylan," I said.

"Yes Dr Brown."

"For the next measurement I need to do your inside leg, do you know what
that is?"

Dylan winked at me, and put on a shy expression.

"Isn't it your...your...private bits?" he whispered, repeating word for
word what he'd said two years ago.

"Nearly Dylan.  It's the muscle that runs from your 'private bits' as you
say, down the inside of your leg."  I showed him by tracing a line using my
finger on myself.  "To measure your inside leg I need to measure from your
groin all the way down your leg."

 "Okay," he replied.

"So what I need you to do is hold your penis to one side so that I can push
the tape measure right into your groin and then measure your inside leg.
Once I've done one side, then I can do the other."

"Okay," he responded.  I could see his dick swell a little as he said it.
He cupped his dick and balls, pulling them to one side.  Taking the tape
measure between the thumb and first finger of my left hand, I pushed it
into him, letting it unravel down his leg so I could take the measurement.
I could feel he was searingly hot, and a little damp.

"Thank you Dylan," I said once I'd finished measuring.  "Time to do the
right leg now."  With that he swapped hands, now cupping his tackle with
his left hand.  I measured his right leg, taking the time to brush my
fingers against his balls.

"Okay Dylan," I said.  "We now come to your hip measurement.  For this I
need to make sure there isn't any clothing getting in the way and affecting
the measurement.  So pants off."

It was amazing how far Dylan had come.  Without hesitation, he whipped his
boxers down, his hard cock springing back up and slapping against his
belly.  Still on my knees, I measured around his hips.  My head was
positioned directly in front of his leaking penis.  Quickly, I stood up,
fearing I wouldn't be able to resist temptation if I stayed down there too
long.

"Just a few more checks and measurements to go now," I told him.  "First I
need to check your testicles."

Reaching out, I placed my hand over his smooth ballsac.  Grasping one of
his balls, I rolled it gently between my thumb and index finger to feel for
lumps.  Dylan squirmed and moaned in appreciation.  I did the same with his
other testicle, causing the same reaction.

"Time to check your temperature," I said.  "Lean over the end of the bed."

"You what?" he replied.  He'd obviously realised what I intended.  "My mum
usually puts it in my mouth or under my arm."

"Well, that's as may be," I told him.  "But this is how we do it properly."

Reluctantly, Dylan turned round and leant over the bed, giving me a perfect
view of his arse.  Grasping the thermometer in my hand, I coated the end
with some KY jelly.

"This may feel a little uncomfortable," I warned him, placing my left hand
on his soft buttock, and pushing it slightly to open up his small, brown
hole.  Placing the end of the thermometer at his opening, I could feel
Dylan tense up.  "Relax," I told him, "it'll go in easier that way."  I
started to push.  Dylan squirmed.  I pushed harder.  He squirmed more.
Reaching around, I took his still hard penis in my hand, stroking it up and
down.  Dylan visibly calmed down.  The thermometer slipped in.

"Ouwwhhh," Dylan cried out, a mixture of pain and pleasure.

Slowly, I worked it in a little further, before stopping.  Dylan was
gasping beneath me, trying his best to get used to the foreign invader.  I
let go of the instrument and took a step back.  It was a sight to behold.
This teenage stud, naked and bent over, his arse in the air with a probe
stuck out of it.  Reaching down my trousers, I gave my hard cock a few
pumps.

"How's that feel?" I asked him.

"It hurts," he replied.  "But it's weird.  It sort of feels really good
too."

I chuckled to myself.  He'd soon be ready for the real thing.

Carefully, I pulled the thermometer out.  As Dylan stood up, I took a
cursory glance at the reading.

"Sit down on the bed.  I've got a few questions to ask you before we do our
final measurements," I told him, picking up my clipboard as I did so.  "I
see you're hard now.  How often do you get erections?"

"Um, I don't know."

"Answer me, boy."

"A lot.  Probably ten, maybe a dozen times a day."

"Good, good.  Fairly healthy for a lad of your age.  I notice you already
have a good sized patch of pubic hair, when did that first start growing."

"Just after I was eleven."

"So before you finished primary school?"

"Yes," he replied.  The questions were clearly making him uncomfortable.

"And you have hair under your arms.  Did that start growing at the same
time?"

"No doctor.  A bit later.  Around when I was twelve."

"You are able to ejaculate I assume?"

"Um, yeah."

"And how old were you when that first happened?"

"Between the two.  Eleven and a half."

"Were you masturbating at the time?"

"Aha," Dylan replied, his face beet red.

"Do you masturbate often?"

"The usual, I suppose."

"And what does that mean?  Once a week?  Once a day?  How often?" I asked,
being deliberately harsh with him.

"Every day," he blurted out.  "Sometimes two or three times."  He looked
like he wanted the ground to swallow him up, yet his penis didn't lie.  It
was still rock hard, and leaking profusely.

"Normal for someone your age.  And what do you think about when you
masturbate?"

"Other people.  Doing things with them."

"Which other people?  Doing what with them?"

"Boys in my year.  Older boys sometimes.  Men too."

"And what do you think about doing with them as you stimulate your penis?"

Dylan spoke in barely more than a whisper.  He was clearly worked up.
"Touching them.  Wanking them.  Sucking their dicks.  Letting them fuck
me."

"Thank you.  And when was the last time you ejaculated?"

"A couple of hours ago," he replied, his cock bouncing as it throbbed.  "I
jacked off in the shower."

I gave him a few moments to settle himself down.  Putting down the
clipboard, I picked up the tape measure again.

"A couple of last things to measure," I said.  "On your feet again."

With Dylan stood in front of me, I dropped down onto my knees.  Taking hold
of his penis, I lay the tape across the top.  Dylan mewed as I made
contact.

"Four and a half inches," I told him.  "A good size."  He smiled at the
compliment.

I wrapped it around, this time measuring its girth.

"Two and three quarters," I announced.  "Fairly thin, but I'm sure you'll
thicken out in good time."  Dylan nodded.  "And now," I said, "it's time
for our final test.  Let's check how much you ejaculate."

I looked up Dylan's body at his face and saw him looking back down at me.
He smiled eagerly.  Reaching out with my right hand, I grabbed his erect
cock.  Peering up to watch his reaction, I brought his dick towards me and
rubbed the precum laden head across my lips.  The sweet taste soon invaded
my mouth as I continued to rub the sensitive glans over them.

"You ready?" I asked.

"Fuck, yeah!" he groaned.

Reaching around, I placed my left hand on his arse.  Opening up, I pushed
his backside towards me.  The head of his cock slid in.  I closed my lips
around him.  He gasped as I ran my tongue around his ridge.

Pushing him more, I brought his pelvis towards my face.  His hard dick slid
further inside.  The length was perfect.  As the hairs above his boystick
touched my nose, the head grazed the back of my throat.  It was like his
rod was made for me to suck.  Dylan seemed to agree.

"Oh yeah," he groaned, "that feels so good."

I felt him shuffling as he adjusted his weight.  My right hand on his hip,
I pushed him back until only his head was inside.  A shove on his bottom,
and his entire dick plunged back between my lips.  His moist pubic mound
once again tickled my nose, the scent driving me crazy with desire.

A little more help, and soon Dylan was starting to repeat the motion on his
own.  Moving slowly, withdrawing his cock and then plunging it all the way
back into me.

I tilted my head back slightly, changing the angle that his penis entered,
and giving him a bit more throat to go at.  As his cock plunged in, he
managed to go a little deeper, pressing his hips firmly down into my face.
My own dick was throbbing in the confines of my pants.  As he withdrew
slowly, I opened my eyes and looked up to see Dylan staring at his cock as
it once again slid between my lips.  He appeared to be in a trance, his
eyes glazed over with lust.  He hit the back of my throat again, groaning
as he did so, and I tasted more of his precum leaking out into my mouth.

I continued to look upwards at Dylan as he plunged in and out.  The
sensation was amazing for me as well as him; the taste and texture of his
boystick was out of this world.

Dylan continued to plunge his dick in and out, getting faster and faster.
As the pace increased, he was pushing his hips further and further in,
sending every last bit of his boyhood into my opening.  I could feel his
balls tightening as they hit my chin, and I knew that the inevitable end
wouldn't be far off.

Placing both my hands on his pelvis, I shoved him backwards.  His cock
slipped out.  Dylan lost his balance, toppling on to the bed.

"Whoah," he cried.  "What was that for?"

Instead of answering him, I threw off the jacket and stripped out of the
rest of my clothes.  Getting on to the bed, I leaned over him.

"Want me to finish you off?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes.  "What do you think?"

Lowering my head, I took him inside me once more, swallowing his dick down
to the base.  Slowly, teasingly, I made my way up and down his shaft.

Dylan had other ideas.  Not wanting to wait, he began to buck his hips in
time with my sucking.  Faster and faster he went, driving his rod towards
my throat.

Suddenly, Dylan's breathing became heavier.  Peering up, I could see the
sweat from his exertions glistening on his chest.  He continued to fuck my
face, plunging his cock in and out as fast as he could.

With a final gasp, Dylan stared me in the eyes as his dick expanded and
went even harder.  He thrust his hips up, burying his rod deeply in my
mouth.  Expecting this move, I retracted my head backwards.  Leaving just
the head inside, I gave a final flick with my tongue before Dylan exploded.

We stared each other in the eyes while I felt him pump one, then two, then
three jets of cum.  Dylan's face was one of intense lust as he watched his
cock pump my mouth full of his sweet boy-juice.  The taste was similar to
his precum: sweet and fresh, yet with a tanginess that showed the virility
of a boy who was fast becoming a young man.  I swallowed, happily.

Dylan continued to squirt several smaller loads, all the time staring at me
and at his penis, which was still embedded inside me.  Finally, he
finished, and with a last drool his cock stopped pumping.

As the pulses stopped, he slowly withdrew his dick and sank into the bed.
I leaned over him, bringing our lips into contact.  Instinctively, our
tongues passionately duelled.  Soon gravity took its course, the last few
spurts of his orgasm dripping into Dylan's orifice, which I swirled around.
I could sense him swallow as droplets of spunk hit the back of his throat.
He broke the kiss.

"Was that...?" he asked.

"Your cum? Yeah.  I hope you don't mind."

"No.  It's okay.  Actually, it tasted sort of sweet."

"Yeah, yours does."  Sitting up, I grabbed hold of my penis and started to
pump.  I was so horny, I knew it wouldn't take long.  Within moments I was
gasping.  Dylan reached out, stroking my thigh with one hand, my chest with
the other.

His electric touch tipped me over the edge.  With a final groan, my cum
sprayed all over his chest and neck.  Exhausted, I rolled off him, sinking
down next to him on the bed.  It took several minutes before either of us
had recovered enough to talk.

"Do you remember the promise you made me earlier?" I asked him.  Dylan
nodded his head unenthusiastically, clearly regretting our agreement.  "I
think it's time for you to pay up."

Hesitantly, Dylan reached down, touching a pool of my cum on his chest.
Bringing his finger up towards his mouth, he inspected the white, viscous
liquid on its tip.  He stuck out his tongue, bringing the digit down to
meet it.  Contact made, he drew his tongue back and swirled it around.  His
Adam's apple bobbed down as he swallowed.

"So what do you think?" I asked.

I could see him weighing things up in his mind.  "Not bad," he replied.
"Quite salty and a bit tangy.  Mine was nicer."  He grinned.

I pulled a sheet over us.  Putting my arm around him, I pulled him towards
me.  Soon, we were fast asleep.

***

End of chapter 8.  I wonder what else they're going to get up to on their
holiday together?

This is my first time writing on Nifty and all feedback is greatly
appreciated - andybrown2000@outlook.com