Date: Thu, 13 Dec 2012 11:45:57 +0000
From: Ivor Sukwell <isukwell@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Two More Boys: First One

This is the first in a series of three short stories, each complete in
itself, but each linked to the others. For voracious Nifty readers, or for
those interested enough to look back, there is also a link to the `A Boy'
series. The content includes sex between under-age boys and an adult male,
and if such content is not to your taste, or if you are precluded from
reading such material for any reason, please take this as a warning not to
continue. The characters are all fictional, though the laws of probability
indicate that similar events and situations may well have occurred between
persons unknown to the author.

No boys were harmed in the writing of these stories.

First One
By Ivor Sukwell

She placed her tea-cup in the saucer carefully, but with enough rattle to
indicate that the words she would utter were of importance and not to be
ignored or dismissed lightly. She was, I suppose, quite a personable female
– in her mid-thirties, and, if women held any interest for you, more
than reasonably attractive. She was also attempting to demonstrate, in the
way women cannot help doing, that she was in charge of the situation and I
was grateful that she did not feel the need to be more forceful with my
best china.

"I think it important that we understand each other perfectly. Do you not
agree, Mr. Meadows?"

She said this to her tea-cup, making it obvious that she preferred to look
at it rather than at me.

For my part, I kept my gaze on the framed print of Caravaggio's `Amor
Vincit' that was hanging on the kitchen wall behind her head. A painting of
a naked boy was, in my opinion, a better subject for my attention that a
live, forceful, woman.

"I am under no illusions that your offer of accommodation to William, Harry
and myself has anything at all to do with a desire to assist us in our
present predicament; still less to do with me and absolutely everything to
do with a desire for William and Harry. I am correct, am I not,
Mr. Meadows?"

She raised her eyes from the Royal Worcester and forced me to drag my eyes
from Caravaggio. She was, as we both knew, completely correct, but I was
not going to give her the satisfaction of actually saying I wanted to fuck
her boys.

"William is, as you probably already know, barely fourteen, and Harry
scarcely eleven; still, may I remind you, in primary school. I am sure I do
not need to remind you of the consequences should your intentions towards
them become known outside these walls."

She did not. Both were prison sentences, Harry rather a long one.

"I thought not," she said in response to my silence. "It is very much in
your interest that such intentions are neither known nor suspected, and
very much in my interest," she smiled as sweetly as an icicle, "That the
boys and I have somewhere to live."

I managed a nod of agreement; it was the most I could manage.

"I work as you may or may not know, at Tesco's, and my hours mean I am
frequently unable to be home when the boys need me, especially when Harry
returns from school. You, I believe, will be able to be here when he comes
back from school?"

Again I nodded.

"And, no doubt, delighted to be so and able to supervise him changing out
of his school uniform." Another freezing smile accompanied her
words. "William is in need of some firm control; he needs a man in his life
and he has, I regret to say, had rather a lot of men attempting to fill
that position, usually only for an hour or two. I shall rely on you to
ensure that does not continue. Do I make myself clear?"

She did, so I asked her if she would like more tea.

"Why, thank you, Mr. Meadows, I believe I would," she smiled once more;
another icicle formed in the kitchen sink. "I am so pleased we understand
each other. As you are aware, I am not in a position to pay you for our
accommodation; if I were then this situation would not have arisen; though,
from my work, I will be able to contribute in kind with some food and
household necessities. The boys, I accept, will cover any other, I believe
an appropriate word is, `rent'."

Once more I nodded.

"Do we have an agreement?" she asked.

"We do," I finally said something meaningful.

She visibly relaxed, and actually slurped he second cup of tea.

"Thank god for that," she smiled a real smile this time; "I don't think I
could have kept that act up much longer. I'm not really a bitch, you know,
but I don't know you well enough to have said what needed saying in any
other way."

"We don't know each other at all," I said, also relaxing a shade, "I don't
even know your name. To be absolutely honest, I didn't even know the boys'
names until you said them."

She did raise an eyebrow at that revelation, so I told her the full story
of how her eldest boy had been, in effect, given to me by my former
bed-companion who was leaving for university and thought I needed someone
to replace him.

"How sweet of him," she smiled, "He must be a nice boy."

"He is," I agreed, "I picked him up on a street corner when he was
thirteen."

"And you stayed together for five whole years? Perhaps you might be good
for William and Harry."

"I like boys," I admitted, "Boys because they are boys and not just because
I like boys........in that way."

"William and Harry?" she asked, not needing to detail her question.

"From what I have seen, I think they are going to be a lot of fun; and not
just in that way."

"A lot of fun for you in that way as well," she sighed. "I have no
illusions about my boys' inclinations, you know. I caught them fucking when
William was eleven. I remember yelling, what the hell did they think they
were doing, and Harry telling me with a huge smile that they were having
fun. What does a mother do? I decided it would be pointless trying to stop
them, so I tried to understand instead. I still don't understand why some
men like boys instead of women; no offence, Mr. Meadows. More
understandable, though, I suppose, than men liking men, but that's a woman
talking."

"For what it's worth, I think you made the right decision. Trying to
prevent them being the boys they are could have soured things between
you. But that's a man who likes boys talking."

"I like you, Mr. Meadows. I know I shouldn't because you are going to sleep
with my boys, but they gave up being virgins a long time ago and it's not
as though you're going to seduce them; they'll be in your bed waiting for
you every night if I know them."

"Call me James," I said, "Mr. Meadows is a bit formal as we're going to be
living together."

"Sandra," she smiled at me; "And can I suggest that we go out together now
and again? Make it look as though I'm living here because we are, well,
sort of, together. All the boys at William's school know what he is like
and it might help to reduce malicious talk."

"That is an excellent idea," I agreed, and couldn't resist adding that it
would also give the boys a bit of time together.

"You're a boy at heart, aren't you," she said perceptively, "Just another
boy."

"Bit old to be a boy now," I shrugged.

"But you think like one," she smiled, "Nice really. Now perhaps you should
call the boys in," she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper,
"They've almost certainly been listening at the door anyway."

She was right, they had been, and they hadn't even tried to get away and
pretend they hadn't.

"It's alright, then, Mum," the fair-haired elder boy chirped as they dashed
in without me even getting out of my chair, "We can stay and James can fuck
us?"

"Yes," she said, "And fat chance I'd have of trying to stop you, wouldn't
I."

William dashed across the kitchen and gave his mother a huge hug.

"Thanks, Mum, you're so cool."

"You better be off to work soon, Mum," Harry said from the doorway, "We can
stay here with James. We can stay all night now."

"Can't you even pretend to be decent," his mother sighed.

"Mum, " Harry whined.

"You can come back with me and start getting your things together. William
can stay and keep James company."

"MUM," Harry whined at full whine volume, "That's not fair!"

"Yes it is!" William asserted. "I'm the older, so it's only right I should
get first go. You can have your turn later."

"You've already had a go!" Harry protested.

"Not officially," William insisted and I had to suppress a snigger.

"Harry, come!" Sandra said firmly, "Leave the big boys to play. You'll no
doubt have a chance to join in later."

Harry pouted, pushing out his lower lip and making it look eminently
kissable.

"Just you make sure you save some for me," he called over his shoulder as
his mother dragged him out, though whether he was speaking to me or his
brother I wasn't sure.

"I've never been fucked on a kitchen table," young William lisped at me,
fluttering his eyelashes and wasting not a single second of time. His
mother and brother had not even left the house and he was suggesting we get
started!

"Probably about the only place you haven't," I retorted, half-teasing and
half not.

"Not been done THAT much," William protested as he started removing his
clothes; "Well, p'raps quite a bit," he conceded as he tossed his shirt
over a chair back and tugged his jeans off to join it, "But never on a
kitchen table. Honest."

"Not sure if I want to know," I muttered, my concentration entirely on his
skin as it was revealed.

"Course you do," he chirped cheerfully as he pulled down and stepped out of
his briefs and then stood facing me, one hand on his hip, the other arm by
his side, one knee slightly bent – the classical boy-nude pose. The only
difference from the classical boy-nude was that he was fully upright, his
four and a bit inches pointing jauntily up and out at about forty-five
degrees. "Men always want me to tell them all about what stuff I've
done. They find it sexy."

"And do you?" I asked as I copied him in clothes removal while he cleared a
sufficient space on the kitchen table.

"Tell them, or find it sexy?" he said as he put, thankfully carefully, the
used Royal Worcester in the sink and moved the vase of flowers out of the
way.

"Either, both," I muttered in his ear, my hands now round his warm,
slender, naked hips.

"Course I tell them," he said as my hands wandered a bit, "It gets them
really going an' that's well sexy."

I didn't ask him if the last words referred to getting his men in a sexy
mood or to my hands, one of which was now cupping his smooth balls, the
other investigating the solidity of his cock.

I pulled him back into me so my hardness was pushed against the small of
his back and he wriggled against it.

"Mmmmmm," he sighed as he moved his back against my prick, "Feels
nice. Nice and big."

"Like big cock, do you?" My voice was thick – naked teen boys seem to
make it go like that for some reason!

"Big cock, little cock; love cock. Ooohhh, that's well nice," he sort of
gasped as I twiddled his foreskin.

"Me too," I agreed, "Boy cock."

He let me twiddle his foreskin for a bit – I had to pull enough up to
grip properly, getting thumb and fingers just below ridge level and tugging
up so his twiddled skin was tight across his helmet. I've made quite a few
boys spunk that way; it takes a bit of time because the sensations build
gradually, unlike in a normal wanking, but the slow, relentless build up
always results in a big load. William, though, was a long way from being
ready to want to spunk, so he only allowed me a minute or two of playing
with him before he turned round in my arms, offered up his mouth and just
had time to say, "Love being kissed an' all," before his lips glued
themselves to mine.

Naturally I felt him while we kissed, felt the warm hardness of his back
and the pliable mounds of his bum, mounds he clenched and flexed as I
squeezed them, making it clear to me that he enjoyed his bum being felt and
squeezed and that when I wanted to do other things to his bum he would be
happy to permit me.

I moved him against the table and sat him on it and then pushed him
backwards so his lower legs dangled off it, his feet not quite reaching the
floor.

"I'm going to taste you from knee to nose," I told him and started, as
promised with a knee, his left knee.

He giggled as I licked his knee, the tiny, faint beginnings of fuzz nowhere
near enough to diminish his smoothness.

"Make sure you don't miss anything," he giggled as I slowly worked my way
up his thigh, starting on the outside and working my way round, across the
smooth, taught skin of the front to the soft, sensitive flesh of his inner
thigh.

"I won't," I said, teasing him, "If you tell me all about you and Harry."

"Told you men like boys to talk sexy," he sniggered, not the least bit
abashed by my request. "What you wanna know?"

"Everything."

"Greedy."

"I am, greedy for boyflesh," I said and bit him gently on the inside of his
thigh, quite high up, but not high enough to touch his balls.

"Ohhh," he sighed happily, "Do that to my balls!"

"If you tell me."

"Told you before, mum caught us fucking."

"That's not where it started, though, is it," I pointed out, starting now
on his right knee.

"No, course not. Started playing with his cock long before that."

"How long before?" I gave him another little bite, in the centre of his
thigh, this time, slightly harder, enough to leave a sign that he had been
bitten that would last a day or two.

"Dunno, really, s'pose when I was nine or ten. We slept in the same bed, so
I s'pose it was bound to happen some time."

"And you helped it along?"

"Course," he giggled, "Harry liked it an' all. He soon started sucking me
an' I think I must have fucked him first time when I was ten. He loves
being fucked."

Harry was three years younger than William, so that meant Harry's bum had
been introduced to cock when he was only seven, but William would still
have only been tiny so the mechanics of it were well within the bounds of
the possible and probably the painless.

I went straight up to his balls when William had made his confession and he
sighed with delight as I licked them and took them into my mouth, rolling
them around and nibbling at his sac skin.

"Gotta teach Harry to do that," William sighed, "It's fab!"

"Harry fuck you as well?" I asked before making a meal of his nipples,
having finished with his balls, ignored his cock and mouthed my way up his
sides and stomach.

"Course!" William snorted, as though the mere idea that his brother would
not do such an obvious thing was beyond comprehension. "His cock's amazing
for a kid his age."

I'd had just the one look at Harry's equipment and that initial sighting
was of something that did seem far longer than a boy his size and age would
normally possess, long and very, very thin. I was going to get more than
just a quick look at it later, so I didn't pursue the subject now,
concentrating instead on making William squeal and writhe by eating his
nipples and then surprising him, and definitely pleasing him, by
introducing his armpits to a similar treatment.

It was time now to lift his legs and have a go at his well-used
bum. William needed only the slightest hint to swing his legs up and pull
his knees down to his ears opening up his brown delight for me to observe
as he twitched it, all clean and inviting.

An invitation I could not resist and he did not want me to resist, and,
after a decent period of visual admiration, I delved in with my mouth,
savouring his hole with my tongue and lips and the delightful smoothness of
his thighs with my hands.

"Use butter," he sniggered when I'd tongued him, mouth-aching ages later,
to a craving for cock-entry, "Be well kinky."

I had to agree that it would indeed be well kinky, using butter on his hole
from the dish that would later be used for bread and toast. I fingered
butter deep inside him, returning that finger frequently to the butter dish
for more; butter melts quickly in a boy's bum!

"Don't need to do that," he told me as I went to open him properly with a
second finger, "Push it in while I'm still tight."

"Might hurt," I cautioned him.

"Taken bigger than yours," he boasted and I believed him.

Going into a loosened up boy of his age is still a tight fit, going into
one who is still unopened is amazingly so. It seemed at first as though it
would not be possible for my prick to go beyond the very tip, the blunt
point of the helmet that is no thicker than a finger and goes in the first
millimetre with ease; but what follows is thick, as helmet swells rapidly
to its full girth as it nears the ridge. Surely if I pushed further it
would be arse-splitting rape, but, even as I hesitated, he pushed back onto
me and I felt the elastic of his ring stretching round me, gripping as
tight as could be imagined, vice-like round my cock as his push forced me
inside.

"Ohhhh fuckin' yeeess!" he yelled as I went past the outer defences and on
through his inner ring, my full length soon sheathed in the velvet of his
bowels. He'd been fucked before of course, fucked time and time again, but
he was still only fourteen and still tight, enterable but tight and he knew
what to do when he had cock inside him. He gripped me with his arse, his
ring a hot vice behind my ridge, no way was he letting me out now he had
got me in.

"Fuck me hard," he begged, "Fuck me bad, ream my hole you dirty old
man. Fuck your boy so he knows he's been fucked." The filth that poured
from his angelic lips did what it was intended to do, it drove me into
fucking him harder than I usually fuck a boy. I like boys, I respect boys,
I want my boys to experience bliss when I screw them; he wanted me to take
him, dominate him, fuck him brutally, and he made me do it.

"Get that fucking cock in deep," he yelled, "Pound my arse, fuck me harder,
harder, harder!"

With his slender, young teen legs pulled right back so his knees were
beside his ears on the table, his arse up, my cock buried deep inside it,
he was a picture of depravity itself, and when he opened his eyes to watch
my cock reaming him, those eyes were full of burning lust. With his clothes
on he was an image of the innocent, sweet schoolboy; naked, hole crammed
with cock he was a throwback to the satyrs of Greek myth, and, like those
ancient creatures, he was insatiable.

I slammed my cock into him as deeply and as forcefully as I could – he
grinned with lust; I forced it out, past his tight-gripping ring, and then
drove it violently back in until my shaved groin slapped hard against his
smooth, young arse cheeks and I did that not once, not twice, but time and
time again and each time he yelled with lust and demanded more.

"Got to stop," I panted, "Can't spunk in you; not using a condom."

I shouldn't have said it, of course, I should just have pulled out and
spunked over him, but say it I did.

"No fuckin' way!" he yelled, gripping me as tightly as he could, "Spunk in
me, spunk in me, make me your boy."

And I did. I did because it was what I wanted to do, I wanted to feel my
seed spurt from me, fill his insides and I stopped caring how wrong that
was, how dangerous it might be. I no longer cared, I just needed to feel my
sperm flow in him, make him truly mine.

My cock jerked, throbbed and burst, sperm squirting deep inside him and he
howled with joy at the feel of it, letting go of his legs so they crashed
down onto my shoulders as I orgasmed.

My cock came out of him, slimy with spent sperm, sperm that followed it
out, oozing from his wide open hole and dripping onto the table.

I eased away from him, gently lowering his legs to the table so he could
lie, panting, recovering from probably the most violent fuck of my life.

"Should not have done that," I muttered, "Should not have spunked in you."

"Why not," he croaked, "I wanted you to."

"You've been fucked by god knows how many men; it's not safe."

He fixed me with a pitying stare, the sort of stare that adolescents give
so well to that inferior species known as adults;

"I'm a slut," he stated, "But not a stupid slut. That's the first time I've
done it bareback, apart from with Harry, an' he can't spunk yet."

"I will use a condom next time," I told him.

"Too right you will," he agreed, "Told you, I am not stupid."

"No," I accepted, "But you are one incredibly hot boy, and I am not going
to be able to leave your body alone."

"Fucking better not," he said with emphasis, before he smiled and added,
"Apart from when you're doing Harry, of course."

We were both still naked when Harry returned, the last drips of my spunk
dribbling from William's almost closed hole while William's spunk was
nestling comfortably in my stomach.



isukwell@hotmail.co.uk