Date: Sat, 11 Oct 2003 13:26:03 -0700
From: Tony Tiger <tonytig@hotmail.com>
Subject: Voluble Stranger

One morning when `J' phoned he said that there was someone he wanted me to
meet and on arrival I was introduced to `H'.    I had been brought up to
always observe the proper courtesies and I knew that J scrupulously did so
himself and  practically worshipped good manners. Accordingly I shook his
hand and said "How do you do, sir".  Any adult to boys my age were
automatically addressed as `sir' in those days.

`H' was tallish,thin,  immaculately dressed in a pin-striped suit and
somewhere in his fifties. I had a vague feeling I had seen him before
although it seemed highly unlikely.He asked politely about my school and
hobbies in a rather melodious voice with perfect diction  and unusual word
usage.  Children in their pubescent years have  innate,nature-given
senses,like those of a fawn feeding in a meadow,  that adults often don't
and I was acutely aware that his eyes would  continually  flicker from my
face to my shorts and legs.

`J' asked  me to make us all some coffee and when I returned ten minutes
later with the tray I  could catch only `H's voice... " absolutely nothing
else" and J's reply
..."well as long as I have your word but only if he agrees".When H left with
the niceties of farewells properly observed,I told J of my observation and
he said "yes, he enjoys just what I do..good-looking boys like you". I
thought nothing more of it.


However a few days later J told me   that he owed a very large favour to `H'
  and asked me, very hesitantly, how I would feel about visiting him  and
allowing him to enjoy me and make me ejaculate. He wouldnt do anything
else,but just feel me  and jerk me off. I didn't particularly want to do it
but J had been so good to me and I was genuinely fond of him so I rather
reluctantly agreed.I said I was hoping J would be there but he said that H
wanted me entirely on my own and that I should go to his flat the next
afternoon.

When I got there the next day `H' was wearing a robe and  welcomed me warmly
and  told me to go into the bedroom and put on a pair of undies that were
lying on the bed. It was obvious that he had the identical fetish to J for
they were black and made of  thin silk with a small trimming of white lace
around the very wide legs.When I returned to the living room he stood up and
removed his dressing gown and was naked underneath. I was surprised that
such a thin person could be so well endowed.His prick was not terribly thick
but had to be nine inches in length with a pronouced upward curve and red
and slightly wet at the end.

I suddenly felt terribly apprehensive that he was going to fuck me.  J was
always very considerate  about any possible pain I might feel when he
carefully slid his seven inches into my teenboy hole even though he
sometimes became much rougher when in the throes of orgasm,  slamming into
my quivering buns and  pumping jet after jet of hot cum into my colon.

The prospect of H inserting that length into me left me shaking slightly
with fright but as J had promised, I was spared that experience. He sat down
in a big armchair and told me to stand  sideways on to him in between his
knees..He bent down to look up the legs of my pants for the longest time
while his left hand slid up the back  caressing my buttocks and teasing the
crack in between.

He started to talk; to the air it seemed. "A lovely innocent boy,his taut
young bumcheeks ready to be separated by my searching hand; his teenage
prick and soft balls hanging quietly in the silken cleft of the pants,my
other hand now sliding up his smooth hairless  thighs into the vee where his
legs join"... He was matching his actions to his words and
while I was puzzled by this soliloquy, I couldn't deny that I  was getting
hard which didn't escape his notice.

"The lovely beginning of a tumescence in a boy still in puberty.I stroke
with featherlike touch the cream-filled balls almost ready to give up their
nectar;I hold the growing tender childlike flesh gently at first but now
harder,my thumb under the bulging  head rubbing in slow and loving strokes
while my whole hand tightens around the shaft"
"I wet my other finger with some of my own leaking slippery oil, gently
separate his twin cheeks to search for and find the small seemingly virgin
orifice I know is there; It wants to resist my invasion but I am heartless
and thrust into the moist slippery interior as far as it will go even though
the boy starts with a little cry of pain"

I had indeed let out a small yelp at the sudden invasion of my private place
but I was fascinated more by his actions than the speech although it did add
somehow to the intense excitement I was now feeling . Uninterupted he
continued his monologue.

"My thoughts run wild...I dream of what I would do had I not given my word..I
would kiss his open mouth to taste the first of his juices.My tongue would
leave a moist trail downwards over his velvet stomach  and my mouth open to
engulf his swelling little tube of flesh to savour its wet early emission
and then journey further on to part the protective globes that guard  his
virgin secret place"

"My tongue would thrust into the heart of the rose and every ounce from my
dripping mouth would be used to prepare the way and ready the passage for
the entry of my yearning aching rod...The scene has changed as the early
evening light gleams on the boy  facedown on my bed's silken coverlet ;a
pillow  beneath his hips,his arms by his sides and his lovely twin and
trembling ivory curves awaiting my invasion. I part them and thrust deep
into the sanctuary heedless of his scream. I am ruthless and piston
mercilesssly and all too soon my seed is leaving me in hot spurts for the
warmth of his cave. He mewls quietly and I am spent".

Standing there,in between his knees, I was completely caught up in his
narrative. Here was a  live bard,reciting a Chaucerian `Boy's tale',one of
the Decameron's 1001 nights or a fable from the worlds greatest authors of
the erotic.It was me in the story and I was enjoying it beyond my wildest
dreams.I was also reaching the height of an orgasm which he sensed as he
returned to reality.

"The boy is about to give up his essence,his honey,his sweet milk to my
waiting fingers and this flimsy garment. I thrust my finger in his clamping
orifice to and fro,faster and faster while my other hand matches its tempo
until,yes,his legs clamp tightly together and gout after gout of his hot
sticky cream spills into my hand under and on its silken covering".

I could never recall an orgasm like that and was somewhat embarrassed but H
whose prick I could see was covered in clear precum,just told me gently to
remove the pants very carefully and not spill any of  their very substantial
contents.He wiped my crotch and legs with a silk hanky and I went back into
the bedroom to get dressed in my own shorts.
.
When I emerged he was wearing the black pants pulled down slightly over his
thighs with the crotch still jammed tight in his. I could see several pools
of what must have been my cum still on the inside of the pants and a sticky
sheen of it on his balls and prick. He was holding the hanky to his face
with one hand and jacking himself off with the other.His hand moved faster
and faster until it was almost a blur. I stood there spellbound. The spurts
came like shots from a gun, an almost continuous stream which never seemed
to stop forming what looked like a lake of cream on the little black that
could still be seen of the sodden garment.

I murmured a goodbye and he muttered a thank you as I let myself out and
returned to J's apartment where he questioned me obviously worried. I didn't
elucidate but said it all went  which pleased and I think, relieved him.

As a normal fourteen-year old boy,politics was of absolutely no interest to
me and was reading a magazine as I was sitting with my aunt who was
routinely watching the evening news,which also usually bored me to bits .

I froze as I heard a voice I recognized and looked up to see a figure appear
on the screen making an impassioned plea  for some cause or another. I
gasped to see that it was `H' immaculately attired with a rose in his
buttonhole. He was almost Churchillian but even I, a young boy ,could not
fail to be impressed with, and  admire the passion and force with which he
spoke .
He concluded with deafening applause and the program cut to the announcer
who said "that was a member of the opposition,the honourable H...responding
to the government's new proposal to...

.My aunt put down her knitting and looked at me over her spectacles and said
"He's quite a speaker isn't he"...I had to agree.

(I heartily welcome comments,ideas or  suggestions to this or any of my
other 'stranger' stories and will try to answer all correspondence.. My
thanks to Ken James for his editorial vetting and ideas. Tony)