Date: Mon, 7 Jul 2008 13:53:52 EDT
From: EddyRiha@aol.com
Subject: voice in the shadows 2

The usual disclaimers apply.  This is a work of fiction, and those folks
who are prevented from reading such fictional works either by age, by moral
preference, or by law should not read any further.

All of the characters presented here are fictional representations,
including the narrator.  I do not recommend actually doing any of the
things described here.  It's just a story.

In answers to some readers' questions, yes, there was a boy I saw in
passing who inspired this story idea.  But other than his appearance,
everything else in this story is fictional.

All stunts were performed by professionals.  Do not attempt these at home.

Voice in the Shadows (Part 2)

by eddyriha

I paused outside the door.  I could hear panting breath, squeaking
bedsprings, soft moans, all signs that the boy was already engaged in his
favorite activity.  But he knew I had made an appointment to be with him
this evening, we had just confirmed it by cellphone a couple of hours ago.
Was his hunger and thirst so insatiable that he couldn't wait until I
arrived?  If so, I could easily have been here sooner.  After all, when we
spoke by phone, I had been merely fifteen minutes away by car, something I
didn't tell him at the time. . . .

Or did he want me to be aroused by the sounds of another man enjoying what
he had promised to me?  I had to admit, it was making me incredibly hard,
thinking and imagining what was happening in his bedroom right now.

He could always have met me outside the store where we first hooked up.  Or
somewhere else.  But, no, he told me to come to his house, to enter the
back door the same way we had the other night.  To climb the stairs
quietly, to enter his bedroom, where he would be waiting for me.

But instead there was another man in my place. . . .

I slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open a crack, peering in to
see.  At first, I could barely see anything, since the only light on was
from his TV screen.  Then I began to make out shapes and shadows, the broad
hairy back of a middle-aged man, his graying, balding head popping in and
out of the shadows with regularity and he fucked the boy's ass.  I pushed
the door open further, then slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind
me.  The hinges didn't squeak at all; I bet the boy oiled them well so his
mother would never hear how many times he opened his door to men.

I found a spot inside the open door of his closet where I could squat and
watch the scene before me, without either the boy or the man being aware of
my presence.  The man had pushed the boy flat on his stomach, and he was
currently engaged in thrusting his large hairy cock between the boy's
asscheeks.  He was grunting with the exertion, and his large belly slapped
the boy's back with each thrust forward.  The man himself was gross, but
the sight of David allowing himself to be so humiliated was an unexpected
turn-on.  Had he planned it this way, so I would see what his life was like
without me or someone like me?  So I would know how much my interest meant
to him?

Or was he so filled with desire that he wanted any man, every man, just as
long as they would fuck his ass?

As I was thinking, the man shuddered violently, as his thrusts became more
frantic and forceful.  The boy was moaning, whimpering into the sheets as
the man exploded his cum into the ass he was fucking.  Even in the dim
light, I could see the cum bubble up around the man's shaft and one stream
of cum trickled down the side of the boy's left asscheek.  With a great
sigh, the man collapsed upon the boy, his energy spent with the last burst
of cum.

He lay that way for a minute or two, breathing heavily and raspily, before
he pushed himself up and off the prone figure beneath him.  He stepped
forward, holding his still somewhat rigid cock, and said, "Here, boy, clean
my cock."  As the boy lifted himself up, the man squeezed out a couple of
drops of cum onto the boy's waiting tongue, then he thrust the whole shaft
into the boy's mouth.  The boy sucked all the cum off the cock for a couple
of minutes, before the man pulled it out.  He dressed quickly, his back to
the boy, who remained lying on the bed, head turned to watch the man put on
his clothes.  Then the man slapped the boy's ass and said, "Nice ass, kid,"
and in a moment he was out the door and down the stairs, not any too
quietly.

The boy continued to lie on the bed, and I realized after a moment, that he
was whimpering.  Was he crying?  I slipped out of the closet and knelt by
the side of the bed.

"David, are you OK?" I whispered.

He looked up, his eyes glistening with tears.  "You came," he whispered.
"I had so hoped you would come."

"I'm here, David," I said, as I stroked the boy's dark hair.  My fingers
ran down the middle of his back, covered in sweat and trembling lightly
under my touch.  "I'm here, I'm here."

He suddenly turned and buried his face in my t-shirt, his arms wrapping
around me.  I embraced him in turn and ran my fingers across his shoulder
blades, up and down the smooth skin of his back.  He was a gentle,
softspoken boy, yet that man who had preceded me had treated David as if he
were rough trade he'd picked up in a leather bar.  That wasn't the way to
love this boy, any boy, even someone you think is "rough trade."  You love
someone by gentleness and touch, that's the way beyond their skin to their
heart.

As I held him, I felt the other man's cum running down the boy's leg and
soaking into my jeans.  "Here," I said to David, "why don't you go to the
bathroom and clean yourself off, OK?"

He nodded and, without hesitation, he slipped out of the room.  In a
moment, I heard the toilet flush, and then he was back again, with the same
kind of wistful smile he had at my first visit to his room.  In the
meantime, I had shed my clothes and had sat on the bed, which was still
warm from the bodies, from the fuck I'd just witnessed.

After he closed the door and locked it, he whispered, "What would you
like?"

"I would love to fuck your ass," I replied.

His eyes dropped, and I could tell from his facial expression that he was
struggling between a desire to deny me that pleasure and a desire to have
me inside him.  Finally, he said, "Whatever you want, that's what I want."
But he still was looking down at his bare feet, and he was shifting his
weight nervously from leg to leg, slowly.

"Come here, David," I said.  I pulled the boy's slim body to him, and
pressed my cheek against his warm one.  I breathed in his warm, sweaty, boy
scent.  "Do you trust me, David?"

"Yes, I do," he replied, though I could sense some fear in his voice as he
said it.

"Then lie down on the bed, on your stomach."

He looked into my eyes a moment, still obviously struggling between
desires, but without speaking, he slipped from my arms and onto the bed,
head away from me, on his belly.

His ass was thus exposed to me, red and sore from the fuck before me.  The
lips of his boyhole were particularly inflamed, and as I gently ran my
finger around the edge of the hole, his whole body winced with pain.

I pulled the tube of KY from my pocket and squeezed some onto my fingers,
then I began gently rubbing it around the boy's sore pucker.  As he
relaxed, I worked a finger inside, working the lube in every direction, At
first, he whimpered a little, but as the lube reached every sore part, his
whimperings slowed and finally stopped.  When I had finished, his ass was
still sore and inflamed, but it no longer hurt him as much as it had, that
was clear.

"Here," I said, handing him the lube, "you need to keep some of this
around, just so when your hole hurts you can make it feel better again.
This stuff isn't only for fucking, you know."

He smiled and thanked me.  Then he stretched out, expecting me to begin
fucking his ass.  And you know I just wanted to.  But I didn't want to hurt
the boy any more than he'd already been hurt.  So I rolled him over onto
his back.  Instinctively, he lifted his knees to his chest, but I pulled
them back down.  In one motion, I sucked his cock into my mouth and
immediately he began swelling and stiffening.  He closed his eyes and
sighed as I worked him closer and closer toward climax.

But when it seemed like he might be nearing orgasm, I released his cock and
sat back.  "I tell you what," I said.  "Why don't you fuck me instead?"

The boy opened his eyes wide.  "You mean you want me to--"

I nodded.  "Your ass is too sore for me to fuck you tonight, and somebody
needs to get fucked tonight."  He smiled at that.  I rarely let anyone fuck
me, since I (and most of the guys I've known) prefer that I do the fucking.
If the boy had a huge cock, I would never have suggested the idea, but his
rod was only four inches or so.  And it was thin, not much wider than my
forefinger.  And this boy so wanted intimacy. . . .

I lay down beside him on the bed and lifted my legs to my chest, exposing
my ass.  He didn't need any prompting; he had experienced this from the
submissive position enough to know what to do.

He dabbed some KY on the fingers of his left hand and brought them to my
hole.  He hesitated a moment, looking into my eyes to see if I was really
going to let him do this.  I nodded, and he began working the lube into my
dry hole first with one finger, then with a second, then a third.  At that
point, it began to hurt, and he saw the expression on my face.

"Should I stop?" he asked as he withdrew his fingers.

"No, it's OK," I said.  "But use one or two, not three."

He smiled and resumed spreading the lube around my hole and into my rectum.
He found my prostate and spent a few minutes rubbing it and making my
aroused cock jump.  I could tell he hadn't done this very much, if at all,
because of the deliberate care that he took with every aspect of preparing
my ass, and with the look of wonder on his face.  There's a certain kind of
power that you feel when you are in that position, working on a willing,
submitted ass, that is like nothing else you ever will know.  And I could
tell he was discovering that power for the very first time.

Then he rubbed some KY on his stiff prick, before he positioned himself
above my waiting hole.  He gently lowered himself, and I could feel the
touch of the helmet against my sphincter.  But it didn't go in, he kept
pushing, but his cock kept sliding to one side or the other.

"You have to aim it," I told him, "and don't worry about being gentle.  You
sometimes have to force it into the hole at first, until the hole becomes
used to its invader."

He nodded and did what I said.  As soon as his cock broke through, the
force of his weight (light as he was) pushed him down into my arms.  I
kissed his lips as my ass became used to the feel of his thin rod inside
me.  We lay there like that for a moment, then I said, "Go ahead, fuck me."

He began, slowly, to slide himself back and forth, a couple of times
pulling back too far and slipping out and then having to push back inside.
After a few minutes, he found his rhythm and began pumping up and down
breathlessly like a piston.  My hands caressed his sweaty asscheeks, and I
helped hold him in position as he worked himself into a passion, fucking my
ass like all he was worth.  I enjoyed the feel of his skin under my hands,
the contact every time his pelvis slapped against my ass, his hair hanging
down over his face and brushing my shoulder as he fucked me.

His body suddenly stiffened and then he began jerking and shaking as I felt
his boycum flowing into my ass.  He was trembling all over and he
collapsed, totally spent, onto my chest, his cock still inside my for a few
minutes until it slipped out on its own.

I kissed the top of his head and breathed in his warm scent.  He clung to
me, his arms still trembling from delight, from passion.  Finally, he
pushed himself up and looked me in the eye.

"That was the first time," he said, "that anyone let me fuck him."

I'd guessed correctly.  This boy was so easy to read, which was such a
pleasure after I've dealt with so many boys who tell you what they think
you want to hear, not what is the truth.  David was without guile, without
deception.  He said what he meant, he said what was true.  That's rare
especially in a boy like him, a boy who's been with many men to fill that
empty space inside.

"I know," I said.  "It's my gift to you, David."

He kissed me on the lips, then deeply, massaging my tongue with his.  Then
he sat back and said, "Thank you, mister, that was the nicest gift anyone
could have given me."

Then he looked down to see my cock was still aroused, but that I hadn't
come yet.  "Now it's time for me to give you something good," he said, just
before his lips encircled the cockhead. . . .