## Archive-name: eternal-youth-2

From: an151170@anon.penet.fi

Subject: Eternal Youthpt2: M/F M/M paid

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

The Eternal Youth -- the Sequel
version 2
a MUCH NEEDED rewrite

by skrytan
Written Sometime & Somewhere

"Is this sodomy?" asked Tom, half in Ernest.
--Anonymous

I daresay the 18th century was trying for me, inasmuch I found myself obligated by the Ministry of War to serve in the Revolutionary War against you uncivil Americans, whom we Londoners liked to call Yankee Doodle Dandies. I had no desire to be shipped off to the other side of the world to brawl with barbarians! But alas, I have always lacked any sensibility when it came to financial matters, and being deeply in debt, I was presented the option of either being sent to debtor's prison or becoming a soldier in His Majesty's Army. I chose the latter out of some dubious romantic motive which I little understand now, as I reflect on those years. I wonder if I might not have had more fun in the debtor's prisons, from the rumors I have heard about those places.
I was 75 years old at this time. You may now be properly appalled at His Majesty's justice and wonder how such an elderly man could possibly be treated so cruelly as to be drafted into a war. Before you begin to utter Liberal nonsense against the Royalty, heed my timely confession. Though I had lived 75 years, I appeared in every respect like an 18 year old boy with jet black hair, a pale, healthy complexion, bright blue eyes, and a slender body. You see, as an 18 year old I had had the good fortune and wise judgement to strike a bargain with a mysterious merchant who applied a magical oil on my body which completely and permanently stopped the aging process. Hence I remain for eternity in a strong young body which will never age.
Do you envy me? Obviously you should! I am sorry if I seem inconsiderate. Do not brood too long on your brief lifespan. It is the fate of most. Cheer up, poor fellow; the time will come, or so I have been told by knowledgeable sources, when modern technology will advance to such heights that people like yourself will be able to manipulate the aging process through scientific means. Your great-great-grandchildren are likely to be the first recipients, an idea which may not cause you to jump and click your heels for joy, but is nevertheless a cause for rejoicing among the philosophically minded.
There were of course many experiences I had in the Colonies as a British infantryman which are of historical interest, and I may some day be persuaded to write a novel about them. But as those intimately acquainted with me are aware, I choose to focus on my sexual escapades, to the neglect, aye, even complete oblivion of other memories. This is why I have been labeled, not unfairly, an erotic writer.

At the age of 18, when I had arrested the aging process, I could have passed for a fourteen year old, being slight of build and always very youthful in appearance. Perhaps this had something to do with the fact that I became the fond favorite of our commander, Captain Rogers, a most grasping man. Upon my arrival for duty in the Colonies, he immediately assigned me to clerical duties at his headquarters, a fine and proper mansion located in Charleston, South Carolina.
One afternoon after tea, he turned and said to me, "Private Larson, you have such dashing good looks. How did you ever come to join the army? You should be back home flirting with rich old ladies and building a career. A boy like yourself--"
"But Sir," I protested, "if I may?" He nodded. I continued, "I am not a boy. I am a man, 18 years old, two years over the minimum age to be a soldier."
"As you say, Private." He reached in his coat pocket for his snuff box. He didn't find it. "Drat, I must have misplaced my snuff. Go find it for me, Private."
I got up from my chair and searched the room for his snuff box. As I moved around and searched the shelves and drawers, I became aware that Captain Roger's eyes were rivetted upon my body and staring in a way that I was long accustomed to, from both men and women. I suspected that his losing the snuff box was a cheap ploy but decided to play along and see where it led--hopefully into a warm bed where I might discover if what they said about the cock-size of British officers was true or not.
I found the snuff box and presented in to him. He made a motion as if taking it, then let it fall to the ground. As I bent down to pick it up, his arm moved around my backside and I felt his hands grab my buttocks! I gasped in surprise and turned my head to look at him. I felt him squeeze my flesh and heard him say, "Well, don't look at me. Pick up the snuff box." I picked it up, stood up straight and handed it to him.
He took the snuff box with one hand while his other returned to its station on my rear and began a massaging motion as I stood there. I didn't mind it quite so much, but I wondered where this would lead. He wasn't saying anything and didn't look me in the face--instead his eyes were focused on lower parts of my anatomy. My cock was not responding just yet, I imagine because of the novelty of the situation.
We heard a knock at the door and his hand instantly disappeared. He asked who it was and a soldier replied that he had news from the Colonel. Something about a rebel ambush on one of our supply trains, I don't know. You Americans simply don't know how to conduct a civilized war. Captain Rogers looked me in the eye and said, "Would you like to return to my room this evening after supper, Larson?" "Yes Sir," I nodded, saluting with a smile. I opened the door and left as the messenger entered to speak with the Captain.
Realizing that the Captain would be preoccupied with the Colonel's messenger for a good while, I decided to take a stroll in town to occupy myself until suppertime, which was 2 hours away. I must say I cut a fine figure in my smart red uniform as I walked down the streets of Charleston. I caught the eyes of several passing ladies glancing surreptitiously at me in admiration and secret desire. My lust was building from this welcome (though discrete) attention and in anticipation of this evening's adventures with the Captain. On impulse I headed for the docks, where I knew of a notorious street where whores could be purchased any time of the day or night.
I came upon a group of five or six prostitutes ranging from young to old. The one that caught my eye was a thin young brunette, fragile-looking, very pale with long black hair and beautiful brown eyes. I was enchanted by a faint look of suffering on her face, a weak smile, a sad expression she tried and failed to hide, which compelled me, which spoke to something deep within my heart so that I wanted to reach out and hold her, caress her face, whisper warm things in her ear. "This world," I would say, "is not so bad. Look at me, feel me, and I will show you what I mean..."
These thoughts of mine soon disappeared, or rather were relegated to the sidelines, as she boldly approached me and purred, "Why good afternoon, young Brit! Out on the town for a bit of fun, are we? I bet little Sabrina can give you a good time!" She groped for my crotch; I was amazed by her forwardness, so unlike the properly prudish ladies of my acquaintance and at the time, rather refreshing... I smiled and said, "Cute little Sabrina, if you will give me but an hour of your time, I'll give you half a pound!" Quite satisfied with the amount, she nodded and said, "Let's go, my love!"
She took me by the arm to place down a side street, opened the door and we walked into a dark, musty room. She lit a candle and I saw a bare room with unpainted brick walls. It was unfurnished save for a mattress with several rips in it and the whore's personal belongings scattered over the floor, a fragment of a lady's mirror, a bottle of wine, a tinderbox and candles, and numerous rags which could pass as clothes.
I sighed, "Poor Sabrina! Is this how you live, my dear? Ah well, it is no concern of mine!" She said, "Silly Brit, do you think I take my johns home? I was robbed once and I never shall suffer that again!" "Robbed?" I said, "You? But by whom?" "By a damned rebel, of all things! Said he knew I was pleasing the redcoats and he was levying a 'revolutionary tax' on my business!" "Why, the scoundrel!" I said, with an involuntary smirk. "A low-life dog, he was!" she declared.
I loved the look of anger in her eyes; it made them gleam, it made her face red with spirit, and her little body shook all over with the passionate anger. I wanted to take her now, naked, body against body. I took off my coat and began unbuttoning my shirt. She saw that as a signal to get undressed. I almost stopped her, thinking I might enjoy taking her clothes off myself, slowly, piece by piece, watching her reaction as I stripped down each garment. But I was too hurried, too filled with lust to do so. I felt my cock reacting as I watched her slipping out of her clothes, easily, quickly, as if she did this several times a day, as no doubt she did.
She was naked before I had gotten out of my pants and she walked to me on bare feet, looking straight into my eyes, a little tigress closing in on her prey. My cock was hard as she knelt on the floor in front of me, took my pants in her hand and pulled them down all the way to my ankles. My cock stood out, engorged. Her breasts, luscious melons, rested against my legs as she placed her face next to my cock and looked up at me. It was a sight I won't forget, Sabrina kneeling before me with those brown eyes, that cute young face, her dark hair flowing down to the small of her back, not quite reaching the twin curves of her buttocks with her delicate little feet resting underneath.
She looked at me, opened her mouth and left it gaping open, waiting. I rested my hands on the back of her head, caressing her silky black hair as I thrust my cock forward, sliding it several times across her pretty face, missing her open mouth, teasing her unintentionally until finally my cock passed through her wet lips and she closed her lips over it. Her tongue squirmed underneath my cock as she sucked me, bathing my cock, making it wet and slick, a development I noted with satisfaction, as I intended to fuck her soon. I yearned to see what bright colors I could raise in her pretty pale face, to hear this nightingale's love-cries.
Her tongue rolled around my cock, tossing it around her mouth, brushing it lightly against her teeth. I heard her slurping, I heard the air evacuate as she took my cock deeper into her mouth, to her throat and then back almost to her lips. Damnation, I thought to myself; she sought to make me cum quickly, pocket my money and find another john. Ah well, I thought to myself: que sera sera. If that was her design, let it be--this felt too good to stop.
I stared at her head, her back, her buttocks--her sweet perfect buttocks which had not felt my hands on them, kneading and rubbing their soft flesh. I thought of her sweet pussy which had not taken my cock. I wanted to take her...but how would I last under this delicious treatment?
She was picking up pace, rapidly taking my cock in and out of her mouth, rubbing my cockhead quickly with her tongue. My breath was quickening, my muscles were hard, my pulse rapid. She knew. She took my cock out of her mouth. A silvery line of semen stretching from her lips to my cock fell away as she licked her lips. She held my cock in her hands, smiling, and said, "You are too beautiful. I want to feel you inside me, soldier." I caught my breath as my impending orgasm faded away, though my desire was inflamed now.

<Chapter 2>

In such a state of arousal, I felt more an animal than a proper British gentleman; but in some ways it was an improvement, I daresay. She saw the thoughts in my eyes and smiled, anticipating my next move. I reached down for her arms and raised her up, then placed one hand on her inner thigh and the other around her back and picked her up into my arms. I said, "You cannot be more than ten and one-hundred pounds." She looked up from my cradling arms with a smile on her face.
I turned around in a circle, holding her tightly in my arms. She swooned happily and placed her arms around my neck. When I had come to a stop she said, "You know what?", looking me in the eyes as she licked her lips, "I liked the taste of your cock."
"Oh bollocks!" I scolded. I lifted her up closer to my face and kissed her quickly and then laid her down on the ragged matress. I grabbed her ankles and placed them on my shoulders. Her bare feet wiggled by my head as her naked arms spread across matress. Her nipples were firm, standing out. Her breath was quick, her eyes excited.
I placed my finger on her labia, feeling the wetness and the heat. I rubbed her clit lightly, watching her lips part in pleasure. My finger rubbed around the entrance until I found what I sought and slowly entered.
I removed my finger and laid on the bed beside her. I stroked, fondled and kissed her, and she reached down and took hold of my cock, as I cooperated and moved when need be, as she pushed it easily inside her. Sabrina gasped and thrashed upon the bed.
My cock slid in and out as I began that old familiar rhythm. I thought: in my 75 years of existence upon this Earth, how many whores had I fucked, how many virgins deflowered, how many young seeming-proper mistresses filled with my manhood? I have stolen pleasures far beyond my due from the hands of Time. I shall always be young! Always! Women and men will always want me!
I watched her face flush red and stared at her gleaming eyes which looked up at the ceiling, blinking, rolling in ecstasy as I pumped, my hips now slapping loudly against her upper legs and lower buttocks, leaving faint pink marks on her delicate flesh. Abstractly I considered fucking her in the ass, but realized I couldn't hold out much longer, and I knew besides that I had to be heading back to headquarters soon.
Her feminine squeals of joy and pleasure were joined by my masculine gasps and moans and the sloppy noises of our lovemaking. Suddenly I felt her orgasm, and let myself go immediately, feeling weightless, soaring through the clouds, as my head arched up, my back straightened, and I came suddenly. I felt absorbed by her, a part of her...briefly...and then the moment passed, and we were separate people again on a torn mattress in this little ragged room.
She sighed, turned over on the mattress and laid on her chest, silent and smiling in post-orgasmic bliss. I gently put my body over hers, resting my spent, wet cock in the crack of her buttocks, surrounding her legs with my own, placing my arms on her shoulders, massaging as I admired her long, silky black hair which I found infinitely attractive. She enjoyed my gentle massage and her body became softer, more pliant. I noticed her legs spreading out, her buttocks rising, opening for my wet, tumescent cock. I imagined she did it unconsciously, under the intoxicating influence of my massage. Only the presence of my legs around hers kept her legs from spreading out.
She moaned in pleasure as I rubbed, my fingers plying the smooth flesh, unraveling her stiff little muscles. She turned her head left and right. "Feels so good," she moaned. My cock was not stiff, but was not soft. I pressed it against her buttocks, felt it slide over her dry flesh. I knew I didn't have time to take her ass. I'd have to make an excuse, then get up, pay her and leave. She wiggled her buttocks and purred, "Is it true what they say about British soldiers?" I pressed down on her again and asked what she meant. She giggled. I said with pretended outrage, "Do those infernal Yanks say that we like to brown our ladies?" She nodded, smiling. I chuckled: the little imp, she must have read my mind! Or perhaps she read my cock, which I realized had probably advertised my desires by its predatory motions around her posterior.
I hated to say it: "Sorry lass, but you may never find out the truth of that rumor. I must leave. Duty calls, you know." I regretted saying the word "never." I immediately realized I wanted to see this hot little tart again--soon. But I didn't clarify the words. I got up to my feet.
She turned to look at me. She was disappointed and surprised. "Wait just a minute, Brit...didn't you enjoy it?" she asked, insecure, doubting for a moment. The warm smile and the desire that still flamed in my eyes answered her question, and she smiled too. After a moment I grinned and joked, "You were the best I've had in, oh, at least a week or two..." She kicked at my rear.
"Oh..." she sighed, "if you say you must leave...even though I wish you would stay and play with me some more... But please, oh please come back to little Sabrina next time you want a woman." I picked up my pants. "That I shall, Sabrina." I fumbled through my money purse, found enough shillings to make a half-pound. "I'll come back soon. You can count on it. Now count these!" I tossed the shillings on her waist. Coins tinkled across her hips, onto the mattress, her legs, her groin, her chest. Another woman might have been insulted, but Sabrina counted the coins.
I quickly slipped into my clothes, knowing I would look disheveled when I left the house, but trusting on the dim light of the early evening to cover me. As I headed for the door, Sabrina called after me. "You will be back," she said, pleading, "won't you?" I smiled, enjoying the look on her face. I waited, as if deliberating the matter. After an unbearable pause, I confessed, "I can't resist a lass who likes it up the ass!"
I saw the glint in her eyes: I had confirmed the rumor. So much the better, I thought. She would know what to expect next time. Maybe in the meantime she could practice with a candlestick or some such object to prepare her other orifice for our next encounter. I opened the door and stepped out of the house, tipping my hat at the minister and his wife walking on the other side of the street.

End.

To find out more about the anon service, send mail to help@anon.penet.fi. Due to the double-blind, any mail replies to this message will be anonymized, and an anonymous id will be allocated automatically. You have been warned. Please report any problems, inappropriate use etc. to admin@anon.penet.fi.

Last modified (12/24/96 14:22:27) by Eli-the-Bearded.

Go back to the main erotica page.