It's not whoring if you fancy the guy: by (c) Hamilton Joyce   Mm

I remember it as the last Saturday of the summer school holidays, and working backwards I must have been thirteen, but only a month away from my fourteenth birthday. I had been to the beach with my father and mother and it was time to leave. While my parents put things away, packed the car and locked up our little beach hut my father told me to go to the toilets.

'Go and have a pee before we leave, Duncan. It's a long journey.'

'I don't need one, Dad.' I had just had my last swim of the day, probably of the summer, and had quietly pissed in the sea!

'Go on. I don't want to stop on the road. The traffic will be horrible. There's plenty of time. It will take us quarter of an hour to tidy up here.'

Most people had already left and the toilet block was empty. I've been back since, but in any case it would be imprinted on my mind. There was a row of eight white urinals, almost as tall as me, and opposite four ordinary cubicles and a larger one for the disabled. The stainless steel sinks had running water, but the big mirror had been cracked by some vandal. There was that smell of disinfectant and urine that I got to know so well later!

I decided I might as well try to drain the last drops before our two-hour journey, and stood in front of the end urinal, unzipping. A guy walked in.

I had never been able to piss when someone was standing beside me, and had often been embarrassed as a boy when I was completely arid when other boys had a communal pee. And here was this guy standing at the urinal immediately beside me. Also I was a bit embarrassed about my clothes. I had grown a lot that summer and my white shorts were now far too tight: I was only too aware that you could see the shape of my arse, and worse still when I had a hard on (which at thirteen was often) you could see my cock through them. Bugger! why did he have to come in now, and why just beside me? There were plenty of other urinals further away. Anyway, I decided to wait him out. Let him finish, and then try again to pee when he had gone. 

But he seemed to have the same problem as me, and was just standing there. I wondered if he was waiting for me to piss and go, just as I was waiting for him. I stole a glance at him out of the side of my eye. No, that was not his problem at all. He had a wonderful hard-on, a boner such as I had never seen before, big, hairy, veiny, and with a huge, angry-red helmet. I must have gasped and turned my head to get a better look. Between my finger and thumb, my own little cock was instantly hard.

He laughed, and my eyes met his, to see a guy in his twenties with piercing blue eyes and a great smile. 'You like it?' I could see him looking over the stall and down at my cock. I think I blushed.

'I ..... I.... I....' I stammered, but words would not come out.

'Never mind. I can see you like it: that's a nice boner you've got too. Want to feel this?' He had been stroking his cock up and down, as I did when I jerked myself off, so I had no doubt at all what he was doing and why. He half turned towards me, and my eyes were again riveted on his crotch.'

'I... I never....'. But my hand reached towards him as if not controlled by my mind and I held his cock for a second. It felt like mine, silky and warm on the outside, and so steely hard and muscled within, but so much bigger and with golden-blonde hair around it, while mine had just the lightest fuzz of fine hair at the base. I pulled my hand back as if scalded.

'In there. It's safer.'

He took me by the hand and I went with him, dazed and not protesting to the disabled toilet. We had crossed the slate-tiled floor with our hard cocks sticking out, leading the way for us as it were.  

There was plenty of room for two, and he locked the door behind us. He put the lid down and sat on the seat, pulling me towards him. His next action astounded me as he stood me in front of him and pulled my shorts down to my knees, without even loosening my belt. My little cock was bent back by the waistband and then sprang  free. He had his arms around me and his hands on my arse, cupping a cheek in each palm as he pulled me in towards himself. Then there was a delicious feeling of warmth and wetness as he took my cock in his mouth. I guess I was only about four inches long then, and he took my whole length easily, his face resting against my naked belly. (How I wish there were still some photographs of me naked as a boy: there used to be from a few months later, but they were destroyed by accident years ago). I had heard about "cock-sucking", which was one of the usual insults among the lads in my class, and had sometimes fantasised about it when masturbating, and here was the actual fact! And it was the greatest feeling ever, so much better than wanking. I felt his tongue flickering up and down my cock as he sucked, touching again and again that ultra-sensitive place at the front just below my knob. I looked down at his handsome, tanned face licking and sucking on me, and held his cropped blonde head between my palms. He looked up at me, my knob between his lips, and his eyes were blue and smiling. His hands moved slightly opening my arse crease a bit, and I felt the side of his palm pressing against my anus. I was glad I had been swimming all day and I would be clean there. The pressure of his hand felt so good on my most secret place. I knew I was about to cum, but he slipped my cock from his mouth and was licking my balls with the tip of his tongue. 

'Please...' I wanted him to continue sucking, good as it was to feel my little balls inside his generous mouth. 'Please.....  '

He laughed. 'It's good, isn't it?' But my cock was in his mouth again, and this time I knew nothing would stop me coming. I saw no need to warn him as so far I had only produced tiny amounts of thin, clear come, and thought that that was all that ever happened. It was, for a young boy, a huge orgasm, so strong as to be nearly painful in my arse and balls. He slurped and sucked harder and faster as I spurted my juice into his mouth, and then we rested, still, my cock in his mouth motionless, and as hard as it had been since I first saw him. I looked down at his cock, rearing towards me like some Saturn ICBM missile on its launch pad. A drop of clear liquid welled up in its eye and ran down the shaft. He unbuckled his belt and opened his trousers so I could see his hairy belly, golden-blonde, and the white tan-line contrasting with the summer brown of his torso. He was muscled, masculine, and I thought so very, very sexy. All my life since I have sought out masculine guys with toned bodies, and the hairier the better!

'Suck me now?'

I half wanted to, but was scared. Remember I was only thirteen and young boys have their heads filled with dreadful stories about sex, deliberate attempts to overlay normal desires with layers of guilt. 'No way!'

'Never mind. I know you want to feel it.' He stood up. trousers around his ankles, and sat me on the seat. His cock was even more exciting so close to my face, and I could feel my own cock getting aroused again as he took my hand and placed it on his cock. 'I expect you know how to jerk off. It'll be nicer if you do it for me, though I'll do it myself if you don't want to.'

But I was already running my hand up and down his shaft.

'You can grip it tighter than that. Yes, that's it. Like that.'

I found I was gently caressing his balls, which felt huge to me, and weighing them in a cupped hand. He groaned, and then was silent, realising the need to be discrete despite the locked door. Precum was oozing from him, and I nearly licked at it, but did not, little-boy-timid again. I rubbed faster, gripping harder, as I knew I would like if someone were jerking me. He groaned again, and suddenly he spurted cum, white globules spattering my naked belly, and spilling onto my hand. I had never seen or heard of such a thing. My own cum was one little squirt of clear juice. This was thick and creamy, and there was not just one spurt: a second and third followed, and then as I held his twitching weapon the final oozings dripped from my fist onto the floor.

'That was good. Now let me clean you up.' Pads of toilet paper wiped the cum from my skin, hands, and the two splashes on my t-shirt. 

He stood with a hand on each of my shoulders and kissed me on the top of my head, the first gesture of sexual tenderness in my young life. 'That was lovely, and I don't even know your name.'

'I'm Duncan.'

'Well, thank you Duncan. I'm Sylvester, though they call me Sly. That was real good. Here, get yourself something to remember me by.' He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a roll of notes with an elastic band round them. The one on the outside was a tenner, and he peeled it off, and shoved it in my pocket. 'You earned it. Now I'll go first. You follow in a couple of minutes.'

I noticed as he left that he had a gold ring on his wedding-ring finger.

So it was not really my fault that I started exploiting my boyish good-looks to earn money. And I can't really blame Sly, my first sexual partner, either, as I was an impossibly attractive boy. Consider all this, and decide whether you would have been able to resist...

.....I was a boy of thirteen, coming on fourteen.
.....I was blonde, and had lovely wavy hair.
.....I was tanned a golden brown, as only blondes with brown eyes tan.
.....I had the cutest bubble butt, and my white shorts were too tight.
.....I was slender, but on my arms and shoulders you could see muscle tone already.
.....I was standing at a urinal holding my cock and not pissing.
.....I had made sure I got a good sight of the next guy's cock, and was obvious doing that. 

Now tell me honestly, dear reader, would you have made a pass at me or would you not?

                                  ........................................................................

All the trip home, which took three hours, I kept getting a hard-on!

That night I went to bed early, needing a wank to relieve the sexual tension. I had two scrap books that I used as an aid to masturbation. One of them was of women, mostly clipped from corset ads in my mother's thrown-out magazines. The other was of guys, mostly athletes and especially swimmers (though they were not really hairy enough for me), and boxers. A few rugby players and some film stars in speedos made up the balance. I had not yet found any really naked pics, as this was just before the internet age. I lay propped up against my pillows leafing through the book, but none of the pictures had the power to arouse like my memories of Sly. As I ran my hand up and down my stiff shaft I replayed the episode in my mind's eye, fixing in my memory the exact feel of his mouth round my cock and his fingers in my arse crease, the colour of his hair, lighter round his cock and balls than on his belly and chest, his smile and friendly eyes. I felt myself coming but stopped it as I had learned, by gripping hard. The longer I waited the better it would be. I saw in my mind's eye that first spurt of creamy cum that hit me on my chest: how I wished I had agreed to suck him. I cursed myself for being scared and missing what I was sure would have been a wonderful and mind-altering experience. How could I have been such a wimp and refused what I knew would be delightful? I kicked myself as a silly little boy, a coward, and swore to myself that I would not miss the next chance to taste cock, if there was a next time..... I cursed myself for not even tasting a drop of his precum as it had oozed from his cock, and especially for not licking at least a drop of the creamy white that had splatted everywhere, not licking it from my fingers. With that thought I came myself, and my spurt went higher than ever before, hitting my neck as I sat there propped against my pillows. 

I wiped it with my finger, and for the first time transferred it to my mouth.It seemed tasteless, but felt slippery. I decided from now on to always eat my own cum.

In the morning I woke up with the usual morning woody, and as I jerked it to set myself up for the day I realised that my mind had been working away while I was asleep and a great idea had grown. My parents had decided a year or so before that the secondary schools in our part of the county were all hopelessly bad, and had enrolled me in an expensive private school in the city. They should really have sent me as boarder (imagine the fun I could have had in a boarding school and they could certainly have afforded it), but I was a day boy and travelled in by bus. Two buses in fact. In the morning it was ok: half an hour on the bus from our village, change at the interchange on the edge of the city, and then a tram almost immediately to the centre. Under an hour all-up. Coming back in the afternoon was the same, only there was a wait of twenty or thirty minutes at the interchange for the village bus. This was what my young mind had been working on.

A few months before my first experience of gay sex I had needed to use the toilets at the bus station, and noticed the walls of the cubicle I used were covered with pencilled and felt-pen messages about sex and cock fun, even a few telephone numbers, and graphic descriptions of what guys had done in that very cubicle. I had taken very little notice, not really believing they were anything other than the sort of fantasies I had in bed at night. But now, after the beach carpark, I knew they were not necessarily just stories: they were probably fact. My cum spurted even higher that morning, and as I wiped it from my chin to stick my finger in my mouth, it looked thicker and creamier than usual. Something was growing up "down there". And I had made a decision. Why waste that half hour every evening sitting in the bus shelter doing homework when I could be playing with a cock, and perhaps earning a bit of pocket money?

                                ............................................................................

It was difficult to concentrate on lessons all day. In the morning I had nipped into the toilets at the bus interchange as I passed through, just to have a look around and remind myself of them. They were as I remembered, rather grotty, and smelling of piss and Jeyes Fluid disinfectant. I slipped into two of the three cubicles and the cream-painted walls of both were covered with sexy messages, comments, stories and even quite good drawings of guys fucking. There had been a hole between two of them, but it had been covered up with a steel plate rivetted on the other side of the wall. Another little hole had been started, but it was just a peep hole as yet. I could have wanked off there and then as my cock was twitching and hard, but decided I hadn't time. So all the school day my mind kept returning to the toilets, promising myself I'd wait and see if anyone approached me. I got told off by that bastard Strang, who was always picking on me, for not attending to the lesson!

When I was a teen it did not take much to make me hard. even the vibration of the bus would do it, or the sight through the window of an attractive man. I knew I was gay: girls almost never had the same effect! Today it was even worse, with what I had learned about sex between a man and a boy. I was hard all the way from school to the bus interchange, and did not dare even touch it in case I came! At last the tram came to it's terminus, on time so I would have a safe twenty five minutes to cruise (though I did not yet know that useful word). I went straight into the toilets and stood in front of the middle urinal with my cock sticking out. No-one came in for five minutes, and I realised it would be better to stand at the end one, and then I would know that any guy who stood immediately next to me was after sex. If he just wanted to piss he would leave a gap. I moved, and a second or two later guy came in and stood right beside me.

I snook a peek at his cock: not very big, and his clothes looked dirty. I Looked up at his face and saw lank, black hair and an ugly sort of rat-face....no chin and beaky nose, like many of the city's urban losers. He looked dirty, and was leering down at my cock. This was not my idea of a fun partner at all, and it was obvious he would not go away, so I stuck my cock back in, zipped up and went out to sit in the shelter till he came out. He did not! Some smartly dressed business man types, commuters, went in but came out a moment or two later; either they had just wanted a pee or they agreed with me about rat-face. Then a really good looking guy sat about two feet away in the bus shelter. He was well-dressed in what looked like a silk suit, grey and well cut for a clearly athletic body. Everything about him was groomed, even his manicured finger nails and polished shoes. He had a scrubbed-clean look about him. And was he handsome with classical good looks, and lovely brown wavy hair. I wondered what such a well-to-do guy was doing in a bus interchange... My cock stiffened as I thought about that slight bulge at his crotch. He may have noticed that because he stretched his legs out, opened them a bit, and is if absent-mindedly briefly rubbed his crotch. I was sure my hard on showed through my grey flannel trousers, but did not mind for once. He smiled at me. I smiled at him. I lightly rubbed my crotch too. And then my bus came!

I had to get it as it would be two hours before the next one to our village. I looked at him apologetic, rubbed my crotch just once more, stood up, picked up my school satchel and boarded the bus.

You can probably guess what I fantasised about when I jerked off in bed that night and again the next morning.... The cum spurted right up to my face this time, and I looked in the mirror as I licked it into my mouth.

                                 ..............................................................................

Same problem at school as the day before, but worse because I kept thinking about the handsome stranger. I decided he was probably in advertising or publishing, and that either he had got fed up with the perpetual traffic jams (the trams were crowded but much quicker, or, just perhaps, he had the same idea as myself in hanging about near the public toilets. He was obviously gay, and had made it pretty clear he fancied my slight, teenage self. I also  decided  I would have a quick look in the toilets and if no-one was already there I would wait in the bus shelter and follow any good looking guy in, so as not to be embarassed again by rat-face or his like.

As it happened that rather good plan was not needed.

My heart leapt as the tram drew in and I saw he was already sitting where he had been the afternoon before. I sat beside him, my satchel on the pavement in front of me. I gave him a nervous and hesitant smile.

His smile back was confident and assured. 'You catch that bus every afternoon?'

'School days.'

'I could see that from your school blazer. Crosbie's isn't it? In fact I know it is. I was at Crosbie's myself.'

'Really? Small world. It's a good school.' I moved a bit clearer and was sure he could see my cock making a little tent in my trousers.

He stretched his legs, and openly rubbed his crotch: I could see the shape of his cock through his silk suit, lightweight, summer cloth for this warm autumn afternoon. He looked around us. we were alone in the shelter, a few people waiting for a bus twenty yards away. He whispered. 'Fancy some cock fun, Crosbie's boy? I'll make it worth your while.'

'In there?' I nodded towards the toilets.

'Have to be, I'm afraid.'

I made it easy for him by getting up first, and he followed me into the little building. I chose the cubicle at the end, without the peephole.

'What will you do?'

I knew the answer to that. 'I'd like to suck you off, but I've never done it before.'

'A lovely answer from a handsome boy!' He was undoing his belt and slipped his trousers and pants down before sitting on the mahoganny seat. 'Used to be a lot of fun going on when I was at Crosbie's. Expect there still is?'

'Not as far as I know. Among the boarders perhaps. But they'd keep quiet about it I guess.'

'You'll be surprised if you keep your eyes open. Bound to be lots of cock action. Always was, boys and staff as well. So you've never done this before?'

'No. But I've seen a guy come, and wanted to try it so much, been dreaming about it nights. I wanted to taste it. And you've got a lovely cock, and lovely and hard.' It was bigger than Sly's, or at least longer. There was not so much hair, but the same drop of clear precum. He had a foreskin, and his knob was just about peeping out. I thought that, circumcised, it looked more gentle and less aggressive than a cut cock, still masculine but somehow prettier.

'Main thing is to keep your teeth away from the end of my knob. But you'll soon get the hang of it. You can kneel dowm. The floor's dry for once.' He spoke as if he had been in here before, and for a moment I wondered who with?

I knelt like the choirboy before the altar and lowered my lips slowly towards that holy object. I knew this was a moment I would remember all my life and made it last as long as I could. I licked at the precum and as I expected it had nearly no taste. I held with both hands on his firm, muscled hips to steady myself and closed my lips around his knob, still covered in foreskin. I felt it twitch in my mouth, and heard him groan. I looked up at him and our eyes met, his with a look of near-ecstasy, and I was so proud to be giving him such pleasure. I felt his hands on my head, fingers in my hair, gently pushing me downwards so the shaft slid through my lips and into my mouth, and I gagged slightly as the knob touched the back of my throat, but the moment passed, and to my amazement, and terrible excitement, I realised I had the cock of a handsome man fully in my mouth. I was so proud! I was a man and no longer a boy, despite my slender and hairless body. I knew what to do without any teaching (cock sucking must be an act as natural as breathing or drinking, instinctive to boys), and sucked hard, hollowing my cheeks, while bobbing my head up and down. I reached down and unzipped my flies, my cock springing free, not encumbered by underpants (which I had put in my satchel to leave myself naked for this or any other encounter. One hand still holding onto his hip or thigh, I jerked my cock with the other.

He was still holding my head between his palms, but one hand went down to his cock, stopping me for a moment. I felt him pull the foreskin down from his knob, and then I was sucking again, only now I could run my tongue over his naked knob. I remembered what had given me such pleasure, and licked down the front of his shaft as it moved in and out, and especially just under the rim of the knob, where it really is very sensitive. He groaned, and his hips were moving very slightly, tiny fucking motions, but most of the action was mine. My hand was flying up and down my cock as well, and it semed even more alive and eager than ever. I just knew this would be my best cum yet.

With my free hand I groped down and found his balls, sliding my palm between them and the toilet seat. I pushed hard with my index finger at the muscle between balls and anus: this must have tipped him over the top. Forgetting the need for discretion in a public washroom, he swore aloud, and I knew he was coming. I Looked up to a face transformed from handsome, smiling, calmly ecstatic features to one of passion, lust and even rage. It was red, eyes scrunched up, almost one would have thought in pain. Then I tasted his cum, hot, silky-smooth, filling my mouth. My own cock spurted the moment I had cum in my mouth, my largest longest cum yet, and enough to cover my little fist. But his spurted again, and then a third time, cock twitching and feeling bigger in my mouth even than before. It was difficult to swallow there was so much, and a few drops escaped to drip down my chin. As I suspected, it too was without any taste, but the texture was delicious, as was the knowledge that I had provoked this gesture of total dominance in a male, using me for the greatest pleasure man knows.

We were silent and motionless a long moment, his cock at first twitching and still oozing cum, and then becoming limp in my mouth: I liked the feel of that too, and decided that one day I would take a limp cock in my mouth and feel it harden as I sucked and he caressed my body.

But he had done, and pulled away from me, standing up and buckling his trousers. 'Was that good, Crosbie's boy? It was for me. You've got a real talent for sucking.'

'I loved it. And I came too.'

'Good lad. Now you wait in here a few minutes after I've gone. Don't want to leave together. And this is for you.' He took a note from the wallet and I stuck it, crumpled into my pocket. 'You're here most evenings?'

'School days.'

'I'll see you again. And I've a couple of friends who would certainly like to have you. Better go! Thanks for the sex.'

                                              .........................................................

Over the next few weeks I had a cock to suck most afternoons. That guy turned up several times, and his two friends as well, the first time both of them together. Every time my mouth was filled with hot cum or I spunked into some guy's eager lips I was amazed that I was being paid for such great fun. I still made sure that I only had sex with guys I fancied, though, and reckoned that made me not really a whore. All the same I learned to ask for the payment before the sex!

One day when I went into the cubicle with a guy I found someone had left a small heap of magazines there, six American and two from Denmark. That evening I threw my scrapbooks in the dustbin (the female one had not been opened for weeks!) and now had the real thing to stimulate my nightly fantasies. The pictures of young guys taking it in the arse encouraged me to start experimenting, and I found my ideal dildo was an old chairleg from the shed which, lubricated with petroleum jelly, taught me that after an initial discomfort there was indeed pleasure to be had inside one's arse.

But it was through school that my sex-life moved on.

In the last week of each term we all had interviews with our "Tutors", who are teachers told off to look after individual boys' moral development and academic problems. Each had about twenty young charges. Mine was a young teacher called McPherson: the boys called him Mac, and he was very popular. He was a good athlete, and we believed he had played football for a Scottish Second Division team as a student. I thought he was very handsome, with short-cropped blonde hair, and a good body. He also seemed  wealthier than most of his colleagues, with stylish clothes and driving a fast, black sportscar. As it happens, my interview was the first of the last day of term.

As I said, I liked "Mac" and was perfectly happy about the interview. He had some concerns though.

'You seem to be doing well in every subject except Art and Physics. Not much we can do about Art, I guess: either gifted or not, and not in your case! But Physics. I don't understand that. You're about the best in my Maths set, so you should be ace at Physics too. What's the problem?'

'I don't really know, sir.'

'Come round here and look at these results, Duncan.' He flashed me the sort of smile that made my knees turn to jelly. I went round his side of the desk and looked over his shoulder at my term report card. It was the first I had seen of it, of course, and I was interested. I quickly read the one and two line comments from my subject teachers, and only his general summary was missing. The Physics report stood out: terrible, and even vindictive. "Shows little aptitude and even less interest. Should consider dropping the subject, and replacing it with another language, probably German." I could smell Mac's aftershave, or perhaps the shampoo he had used that morning. There was a scent of lemon, clear and clean and very masculine. I felt that tautness in my chest I knew when a handsome guy seemed likely to approach me for sex. My cock was stirring too. Deliberately I moved closer as if trying to read the paper on his desk in front of him, and allowed my leg and hip to rest on his shoulder. He did not move away.

'I think you must have some opinion about it, Duncan...'

Well, sir,' I hesitated, 'I don't get on with Mr Strang'. Strang was the Physics teacher.

Mac was silent. The pause seemed to last seconds, and clearly he was not going to break it, so I was forced to continue. 'He doesn't like me at all, sir.'

Another embarassing pause.

'I know he doesn't because he's always sarcastic, even in front of the whole class.'

'About what, Duncan?'

'He keeps hinting I'm gay, sir.' There, I had said it! I felt the better for it.

'And are you, Duncan?' 

I'm sure I must have blushed deep red, but was glad he could not see my face as I stood beside him. I had allowed my weight to lean on him, and he felt warm and strong, and I trusted him. But I still could not say the words.

'Nothing wrong with that, Duncan. I'm gay myself and have no problem with it.'

'You, sir. But.... but....'

'Spit it out, Duncan. You are gay aren't you?'

'Yes. sir. I am. And I only want sex with men now, since I found out.'

'Well, us gays must stick together, Duncan. I'm going to move you from Mr Strang's Physics set to Mr Fellow's. That will give you a chance to catch up a bit. And what would you say to some personal tuition? I live in the next village to you, and next term you could come back once a week after school and I'd tutor you, until you are back in line with where you should be. I teach Maths, but my degree was in Physical Sciences.'

'Oh, would you sir. I'd like that!' And more to the point, my erect cock was telling me that I wanted this handsome man to take his pleasure with me, and me with him. Allelujah! He was gay, and "out" to me, as I was to him.

We'll start Wednesday afternoon next week. I know it's holidays, but you can cycle over, can't you?'

                                        ..................................................................

That Wednesday was in fact my birthday, and my parents thought it odd I wanted to go out into the cold on such a day, and for a Physics lesson of all things! But, good parents, they were not going to stand in the way of a young boy's ambition to improve himself. At least that's what I thought at the time, and I wondered with a shiver up my spine what the  the reaction would be if they knew what I was hoping for the visit. Many years later, when I had to clear my father's papers for the probate on his will, I found that like myself he was bisexual. In the filing cabinet he kept locked in his office I found a heap of dvds, all gay, and mostly of men and boys, and I expect he would have been pleased to know I was following in his footsteps! He never made a sexual approach to me, and I sometimes wonder what my reaction would have been?
  
It had snowed during the night and then frozen sharp. Sheepwash Lane between the twin villages had only two car tracks as I cycled along it, and I guessed they would be the Post Office van and Mr Ladbroke's tractor. I tried to keep my tyres within the wide tractor-tyre marks, and the snow crunched whenever I missed them. Despite my hat, gloves and heavy anorak I was well-frozen by the time I got to the imposing eighteenth-century gates of the Old Hall, which was where Mac lived. The snow on the drive-way up to the house was virgin, and I looked back from the porch at my footprints and the wheelmarks where I had pushed my bike the last few yards. 

My heart was beating as I pulled the bell handle down and heard it ring inside. He must have been waiting for me, because the door opened immediately, and his smile made my heart beat even faster.

'You look frozen, Duncan. Come into the kitchen and get warm.'

His kitchen was a proper farm-house job, with a long, black kitchen range and a massive pine table, covered with books and the debris of breakfast. But the real gem of the decor was introduced to me as Paolo. At first I assumed Paolo must be a servant, but it was immediately clear he was a companion, and equal. He was very beautiful with a lovely olive complexion and shining black hair in a pony tail. But it was the body that screamed sex at you, slender but muscled, and the tight black shorts and too-small pink t-shirt did nothing to hide it: 'sex-object' was the word that sprang to my mind. He held my hand for several moments longer than usual, and I realised he and Mac were lovers. Where did that leave my ambitions?.

'Mac has told me about you Duncan.' He was pouring me a milky coffee. 'He said you were good-looking, but he did not do you justice. You are so handsome.'

I was still not good at accepting compliments, and I probably blushed, making me seem even younger and more desirable than I really was.

My first Physics Class at Old Hall was about light, I remember. In fact I recall everything about that first visit. His office was modern in such an old building, with a couple of computers and white bookshelves. We sat opposite each other at a small table and he started to explain, teaching me by making me answer his questions, and explaining more when I could not. I was understanding concepts that had been a complete mystery to me in more formal classes. He asked me to come round and look over his shoulder at some diagrams, and as he pointed to them he made the move I had been expecting and hoping for. I felt his arm around my waist, and then as it slipped down his hand cupped my buttock. I wished it had been summer so I could be wearing shorts and feel his hand creep up the leg and towards my groin. But I managed to turn very slightly so my cock, hard again from those gentle caresses, pressed lightly against his body. He pulled me tighter against him, still explaining the diagrams, until finally, 'It's no good, Duncan. I can't concentrate. I've got the same problem as you.' His hand left my arse and was on my crotch, grasping my cock. 'We'd better do something about this, don't you think?'

His bedroom was next to his office, and was modern as well with little furniture beyond a large, low bed, a television on a chest of drawers, and mirrored wardrobes along one wall. 

Moments later we were laying on his bed and I was in heaven. His mouth on mine, wide open and wet, felt strange for a moment as he embraced me, but then it was all delight as I felt his tongue slide into my mouth. A second later my tongue was in his. I felt him pull my shirt out of my trousers top and his hands slip up under it. He licked inside my ear, sending tingles down my spine and whispered how fine and smooth my skin was. I pulled his shirt out and my hand was on his naked chest, fingers combing through the hair. We writhed together, and I was very aware of his cock, hard and demanding, pressing against me. He sat up and pulled his shirt over his head, and I did the same. We collapsed back into our embrace, but naked chest to naked chest.

He pulled away to look at me, and his hands traced patterns around my nipples and down to my belly. He told me how lovely I was with my flawless, hairless skin and his lips were on my right nipple. As he kissed and nibbled me there I felt my cock twitch in sympathy with the pleasure. I was stroking his muscular chest, and thought how handsome the golden hair was: I was so glad it was golden-blonde and not ginger. My turn now as I kissed and licked his neck, and then took one of his nipples in my mouth: it hardened to a little nail-head, and as I stiffened the other one too he groaned with pleasure. His skin was a translucent white under the fine curls, and I could see that unlike me he had not sunbathed in the summer. His muscle tone, though, was as good as mine, and his muscles, of course so much larger.

I felt his fingers scrabbling at my belt buckle, and finally he had it loosened. He slipped a hand down and grasped my hard little-boy cock through my (new that morning!) white y-front underpants. I lifted my butt so he could slide my trousers down. He  had to slip my shoes off before my trousers joined them and my shirt thrown on the carpet. We embraced again, but this time I was near-naked.

I fumbled at his waistband, and the button undid easily. I slid the zip down, and he was naked beneath, his cock springing clear of the restraint.  He raised his arse and I pulled trousers and shoes off. His cock sprang loose from a mass of curls, the colour of Welsh gold. I held his balls gently in one hand and his cock more firmly in the other, admiring it. I had by now seen a dozen cocks at least, but this seemed so handsome with its straight, white shaft and large pink helmet which was completely clear of his foreskin. later I found he had very little foreskin in fact. The knob was really swollen and his piss-slit was weeping precum for me. I lowered my face to it and licked those clear drops of nectar. I lay between his open legs, a hand resting on each thigh, and slowly took his cock into my mouth, slipping it right in until my nostrils were among his pubic hair. He smelled of lemon shower-gel as he had when I first knew I wanted him. All my life when I have smelled lemon my cock has hardened as I remember that first day with him.

I promised myself that I would give him the best blow job ever, that I would use all the skills I had learned those afternoons in the bus station. I started slow and deep, taking the full length of his cock each time my head bobbed down on him. Occasionally I gagged as his knob hit the back of my throat, but I did not change the slow, regular rhythm. After a bit I could feel his cock swelling even more, and twitching in my mouth, so I transferred my attention to his balls. These had been  tight in their sack earlier, but now they hung loose, and I took one into my mouth sucking gently on it, while tickling the other with my fingers. He groaned, and precum was really spilling out now. I was worried he might cum and not in my mouth he seemed so close, so I slipped it in again, and this time worked hard and fast at it, bobbing up and down, and making sure my tongue was running up and down the shaft,especially just under the knob, where it is always most sensitive. He grasped my head in two hands, and his hips were jerking up and down in time with my head. suddenly my mouth was filled with warm, silky-smooth cum. I swallowed, and there was more, and then more. I felt his body relax, and allowed his cock to rest motionless in my mouth, as the twitches told me he was still oozing cum with the last of his orgasm.

After a bit, his cock was limp, and he was satisfied. He pulled me up to him, and kissed me on the lips.

'That was lovely, Duncan. I can taste my cum on your lips!'

His imagination! His cum was almost tasteless. It was the feel of it and the knowledge of his pleasure that turned me on, not the taste!

'Your turn now.'

I was laying on my side, and felt the warm wetness of his mouth around my cock. Hyper-excited I knew I was going to cum in seconds, but he must have guessed that, and slid his lips from my cock to lick at my balls, still almost naked of all but the faintest signs of future hair. I was afraid I'd cum and rob him of that feeling of an exploding cock in his mouth, so I grasped his head and returned his mouth to my cock. Laying as we were on our sides, I was able to fuck his mouth. My cock was still so small, scarcely four inches, that he had no problem as my hips forced it in and out, until with an orgasm I could feel in my arse and balls as well as in my cock, I came.

Laying together later, on our backs, thighs touching, and his hands stroking my chest, belly and thighs, I asked him. 'Won't Paolo be annoyed, jealous I mean?'

He laughed. 'Don't worry about that. We gays are not often possessive, and he'll be happy I've found such a good-looking and talented boy. In fact he'll probably give me a specially thorough fucking to show he loves me.'

'He fucks you?' I was amazed. I could imagine Mac fucking Paolo: in fact as soon as I saw Paolo's lovely body in the kitchen I assumed Mac would be having him, that slim arse so made for being fucked. But Paolo fucking him!!!

'Always. I sometimes fuck him, but usually he fucks me and then sucks me off: couples get into their habits, you know.'

'Is it nice?'

'Oh my lovely, innocent boy.' He kissed me on my lips. 'It's lovely.'

'I've tried with a chairleg I found. But I've never had the real thing.'

'Do you want it? Do you want to be fucked?'

'I think so, but I'm afraid a bit. My chairleg is not as fat as a guy's cock.'

'It might hurt first time, but you'll get used to it, and it can be very good. If you want to, then Paolo is the best. Me for Physics, but Paolo for fucking!' He laughed. If you want you can go and get him. He'll have finished his shower by now.'

I got from the bed and picked up my shirt.

'You don't need that. Let him see you naked. You're so lovely!'

Paolo was at the sink, naked except for a white apron. He had not noticed me as I padded in with bare feet, and I stood a moment looking at him as he finished drying some dishes. The white belt of the apron was tied in a bow around his waist, contrasting with the olive-tanned skin of his back and buttocks. He had that triangular shape from broad shoulders to tiny butt that is so sexy, and my cock stood again for him. He sensed my presence and turned round, the apron looking silly, but somehow sexy on him. He smiled, and I could see his eyes focus on my hard little-boy cock. The tent arose under his apron, and I could see the effect my body was having on him. His chest was smooth, hairless and tanned.

'You startled me, Duncan. God you're lovely, boy.'

'We hoped you would join us.....'

'Mac wants fucking, eh?'

'Well I hoped that.... I mean would you....?' I was nervous Of asking what I wanted.

He reached behind and undid the bow, throwing the apron by the sink, to join his tea-towel. He had shaved his balls and cock, leaving just a square patch of cropped black hair at the base of his shaft. None of the guys I had sucked had shaved, I guess because they will all have been married men, and this was another delightful surprise. I love hair, but his balls, held tight by a studded leather ball-strap, shone glossy and naked, and his cock looked so large, naked of all hair. He had a lovely hard six-pack too, and his all-over tan said he visited a nudist beach somewhere!

'So you want me to fuck you, Duncan?'

'I've never.....'

'How old are you?'

'Fourteen.' I did not want to tell him I was fourteen today as that always seems as if you're pushing for a present. I knew what I wanted from him for my birthday! 

'Then you should not be a virgin, boy. The Priest took my virginity when I was twelve, I'm glad to say. Then it was most of the men of the village! Let's go and join Mac.'

The two of us, a man and a boy, stood in the doorway of the bedroom, both posing for their lover on the bed, both aware of their beauty as individuals and as a couple. Mac took them in, the boy with his tan turning from that summer-brown to a winter-gold, blue eyed and blonde-haired, and with that lovely little triangle of fine blonde pubic hair crowning naked balls and little-boy cock. And his arm around the waist of the athlete with the natural mediterranean colouring, darkly handsome, skin smooth and waxed hairless. Both males were erect, the one sticking bolt upright, eight inches of stiff, masculine pride, so stiff as to be nearly touching his tidy little navel, the other four or perhaps five inches of boyish beauty, the promise of tender and loving caresses. Mac felt his own cock hardening as they crossed to the bed. 

'Duncan has told me what he wants, Mac.'

'And?'

'What do you think, sweetie. Come here, boy.'

Mac moved on the bed, and I finished up between the two of them, both trying to kiss me, my body pleasantly anchored securely between the two of them. I could feel Mac's cock pressed up against mine, and Paolo's hard against my buttocks, near where I half-hoped, half-feared he would possess me. The sensuality of having four hands kneading and caressing me was almost indescribable, and although he was laying on one of my arms my other one was free and I was stroking and touching Mac's strong muscles.

Paolo moved on the bed.

'Oh! That's nice!'

'What's he doing, Duncan?'

'He's licking round my bottom-hole. Oh! It's lovely. I can feel his cheeks against my flesh. Oooh! That's nice, Paolo. He's got his tongue right in me. His cheeks are rough, but it's lovely.' My mouth was inches from Mac's face and I was whispering, for no reason except the intimacy of the moment. 'His cheeks are rough, but his body is so smooth...'

'That's because I wax him all over. Every bit of hair.'

'You like him smooth? I mean no hairs?'

'Mmmmmmmmm.'

'Like a young boy?'

'Oh yes! Like you, Duncan.'

Paolo was licking round my anus, and sticking his pointed tongue up me. I knew men were mad about my buttocks, because nearly all of my afternoon customers told me what a lovely arse I had, bubble butt they called it. And a lot of them wanted to fuck me. My answer .... so far .... had always been "no way".

Is that why you're a teacher? To get young boys?'

'Good lord no. I never dared before now.'

'Ooooh! That's lovely!'

'What's Paolo doing now?'

'He's spread something on me and stuck his finger in. Oh yes, Paolo. Just there. That's the exact spot.' I had, of course, found my prostate in the course of my nightly experiments with fingers and the polished chair leg! And so had Paolo.

He whispered in my ear, but Mac was so close he must have been able to hear too.'Is that nice?' I murmured cosent, 'And that?' Two fingers in me now I guessed. Still about the same as my chairleg dildo, and much more supple in their ability to stroke and massage me deep within. 'And that?'

'Jeez! That hurts.' But it was not too bad, really, and I let him carry on with his probing and caressing. Mac was kissing my lips and had a hand down between us, holding my stiff little cock.

You're sure, now, you want it?'

I wasn't at all sure. Part of me wanted it desperately, wanted to fulfil my nightly dreams , to give rein to the feelings of submission that accompanied ny nightly fingerings, and to give a man that pleasure that I knew deep inside me only total compliance could achieve. I wanted him so much. And yet I was afraid, not with the timidity that had stopped me sucking 'the handsome stranger', but with the virgin's fear of the unknown. Would it hurt dreadfully?

'Yes, I really want it.'

'Say it! Tell me!'

'I really want you to fuck me, Paolo....'

Mac rolled away and the two men placed me on my belly with a pillow under me, my legs apart. I had never felt so naked and helpless, my anus exposed so shamelessly. I felt one of them spread more cold lube over my crease, and could see over my shoulder Paolo greasing his cock, the purple, angry helmet looking so large and intimidating now the moment was so close. How could that thing get up my tight little back passage, however much I had practised with the dildo? I felt myself tensing up, and my shoulders began to shake, but Mac whispered in my ear and stroked my bottom, calming me as one calms a young animal. I felt the sprung mattress move beneath me as Paolo knelt betwen my legs, and then his hands, heavier than Mac's, grasping my buttocks and pulling them apart. His knob felt good for the moment its weight was pressing against my tight-closed, virgin anus. That was the last good moment! For with a push he had his huge knob in me, up past my virgin areshole. My scream could have been heard in the next village! The pain was excruciating, the worst I had ever known, sharp and searing, and I would have wriggled free, but four strong male arms held me in place, two on my shoulders and two on my buttocks. I pleaded for him to stop, to let me out from under him, but Paolo took no notice, and after the briefest of pauses was pushing again until feeling his weight on my buttocks I knew he had buried his full length in me. Tears were running down my cheeks, and I was biting the cotton coverlet to control my sobbing and yells of anguish. And despite the pain I was glad he had not stopped. It still hurt terribly, but I had achieved it, I was his, like the bride surrendering to her groom I had accepted my goal in life, to submit to and pleasure the male. I have been true to that all my life, offering mouth, arse, hands to my lovers' tools and taking my pleasure mostly in their worship of my body.

The pain soon became a dull ache, a feeling of being over-full and stretched, but underlying the pain was a familiar feeling from my prostate. Pain was being mingled with pleasure, that great mystery of male sex, that one can feel both pain and pleasure at the same time. The mind can scream 'No', while the cock hardens!  Later I have met men who like to be whipped while being fucked, the ultimate perhaps in appreciation of the paradox of sex.

I hardly noticed pain now as he slipped his cock out, but certainly felt it with each inward thrust, the wedge shape of his cock stretching me at the end of each stroke. And then the ache was disappearing too, to be relaced by a glow of satisfaction, part psychological part physical that flowed through my young body. I could take it, and enjoy it! As Mac had promised, it was good, and would from now on be good, and I could give my body in the fullest and most complete way to those I loved.

'It's good, now, Paolo. You can do me as hard as you want.'

'My little, English darling!' I felt his lips on the back of my neck as he started to fuck me hard and furious. I wished I could reach my own cock to wank it as it demanded its own attention, but his weight was too much to slide my hand under.

Then, as if reading my mind, he slid his cock out completely.

'No! Please. No!'

He laughed and reassured me. 'I just want to see your face, pretty boy!'

If I had thought my secret rose shamelessly exposed before, now with my legs up over my shoulders it was completely open to him, the offering of a willing lad to his lover. There was no need for any further lube as he slid his cock easily in and bent to kiss me on my lips before shagging me even harder than before. I could reach my cock now, but found I did not need to. The impact of his cock on my prostate  with each thrust of his hips was better than any hand wanking me. My cock twitched with each thrust, and I could feel it coming. The orgasm built somewhere between my arsehole and my balls and finally unwound with the largest spurt of cum I had ever achieved, splashing up onto my face. The second hit my chest. He leaned forward and licked my cheek, swallowing some of my cum, and then I could see from the passion in his grimacing face he was going to cum. I swear I could feel the hot cum well up deep inside me, but I may have imagined it. 

Finally he collapsed in my arms. I just wanted to chat, to tell him how wonderful it was. How glad I was he had carried on through my protests to bring me to those golden moments of pleasure. But he, of course just wanted to lay silent. I now realise that my reaction had more of the feminine in it, his more of the male: but I am always like that!

Mac was stroking both of us, and seeing his cock, hard again from the show (and who would not get hard watching from a foot away a handsome Latino fucking a teenage blonde boy?), I rolled half over and down the bed to suck him. I could never get enough of his cock, and managed to get it further down my throat even than the first time. How I wished he would fuck me too... but he never would. In fact, I believe that some hang-up made him lose his erection almost with the moment of penetration, so he never fucked anyone. Like me, he sucked, and was fucked.

We smoked a joint between us (another first for me!), and there was no thought of further Physics. A lesson was, however, arranged for the next Wednesday, between Christmas annd the New Year.

'One hour's schoolwork, and then as long as we want in bed!'

.................................................................

And that's how it went on through the days of Winter: sucking cock or being sucked most afternoons at the bus-station, being fucked by Paolo and sucking Mac Wednesday evenings. And there was no further action in my story until the Easter holidays.

It was unusually warm that late-April, and I managed to wheedle my parents into agreeing I could spend a few days by myself at the beach-hut. Strictly speaking you were not supposed to overnight in them but people often did (especially when they had too much to drink to drive legally!) I promised to 'be good', though I don't know what they meant by that. Mother told me at the last moment that my shorts were too tight, but Dad told her 'to let the boy alone, he's just right for a warm Spring day.' In fact she was right, really, and I had chosen them to show off my legs and butt. She had vetoed hitch-hiking too, which was the whole point of the tight, khaki shorts and skimpy little sweat shirt, so Dad gave me an extra few quid for the train and bus fare, but instead of taking the bus to the station I took one in the other direction to the edge of town.

Hitch-hikers going south out of town used to stand just before a long truck-stop lay-bye and that was where I dropped my rucksack down, hitched my shorts up so that they were really tight over my groin, bared a lot of thigh, and stuck my thumb out at the passing traffic. It was early in the year and there was no hitch-hiking competition yet and it was only minutes before a car pulled into the parking; it stopped about thirty yards away and the driver looked out. My type! He looked smart in a crisp white shirt, his suit jacket hanging in the rear seat as seasoned drivers do. He looked well-built. I picked up my rucksack and ambled over.

'Where you going, son?'

'Down the A30. Not far though.'

'Hop in then. Dump your bag on the back seat.'

The way he looked at me told me he was a good prospect, and I could almost see him drooling as he licked his lips in what I guess would be an unconscious gesture of anticipation. Close up he looked tasty enough himself, a big-built, athletic looking guy, and well-dressed too. His car was a nearly new top of the range BMW which suggested he would pay ok. I stretched my legs out and made sure I adjusted my crotch as I settled into the deep seat. 

'Been waiting long?' He drew out, down the lay-bye, and into the traffic.

I had been preparing my come-on line all the night before. 'Not long. The last guy wanted me to suck him off for five pounds.'

'Jesus!  There's some guys about!'

'Real cheapskate! I told him it would cost him a tenner and he was lucky to get it for that!'

'Really. You'd suck him off for ten pounds?' I could see a drop of sweat forming on his upper lip despite the air-conditioning.

'I did. He was good-looking and had a nice cock.'

I was a bit worried as he had his eyes on me and especially my legs and crotch more than the road! 'Am I good looking?' He laughed.

'You are. Very. And have you got a nice cock?'

'Ten pounds, you'll suck me off?'

'Yup!'

'Where can we go?'

'Two miles up the road there's some pine woods. Take the first little forest track on the left, and a hundred yards in there's a good place.' It was one of the places my schoolfriends and I would cycle to in the summer, so I knew it well, and that it was very quiet there.

The BMW bumped a bit along the rutted path but we were soon at the clearing where a few months earlier foresters had stacked and loaded logs. I had been looking at his crotch and watching his cock harden under the charcoal-grey suiting. He had reached for my naked thigh resting his open hand on it, but found he needed two hands on the wheel as the ruts took the wheels in all directions.

'In the car or on the grass?' It looked pleasant in the early Spring sunshine.

'Car. Don't want dust or grass-stains on this suit. Hey. Here's your tenner.' He kept a small roll of notes in the ashtray....clearly a wealthy guy. He started to unbuckle his belt.

'No. Let me. You just lay back and enjoy.' The seat fell into a reclining position as he worked some lever beneath it. I leaned over him and fondled his cock through the thin, summer-grade cloth. It felt good, steel under the fabric! He stretched his legs out as I unbuckled his belt and carefully slid the zip down in case he was naked beneath: a scrap of foreskin caught up in a zip can be painful! I need not have worried as he had white boxers on under. I slipped to the floor, glad he had a large car with plenty of leg-room, and laid my cheek against his crotch, looking up at him. He smiled as our eyes met and he took my head between both hands, lightly turning it so my lips were on the cotton-mound. I nibbled it between my lips and made him (and myself) wait a long moment before I slid the trunks down freeing his cock. It was not huge, but like everything about him it was handsome, straight, circumcised, but with a knob not much broader than the shaft itself. There were no circumcision scar-marks, no jutting veins, just a smooth, pure column. He raised his arse from the seat and I slipped trunks and pants down to his calves. A drop of precum appeared in the eye of his cock.

I undid the bottom three buttons of his shirt and pulled it back from his belly. It was flat, tanned, and with plenty of brown curls. 

'You keep fit, I can see.' I could feel as well: a true six-pack, often the sexiest part of a male's body visually!

'Gym every morning, but get on with it. I'm desperate for it.'

'I can see that too!' I licked the drop from his knob, and slowly, so slowly closed my lips on it. He groaned and his legs straightened, lifting his heels from the floor. I gradually slid the shaft into my mouth till his knob touched my throat (once I would have gagged, even retched) and my nose was into that curly hair, that strong six-pack. I left one hand on his hip but just had to stroke his belly with the other. I could feel my cock twitching inside my over-tight shorts. I raised my head allowing his cock to slide out as far as his knob, and then pressure from his hands moved me down onto him again. His hips were moving in rhthym with my head now, but really only little jerky movements rather than full-flown fucking. I guessed he was not far from coming, and I was enjoying this cock too much to let him just yet. Ignoring the grasp of his hands I let his cock slip from my mouth and pressed my nose and lips into his balls and that hard, muscular piece between balls and anus. I licked one large ball with the very tip of my tongue, and again was rewarded with that groan of sheer delight.

Four times I brought him to the edge of orgasm, and then backed off to lick his belly or his balls till the moment had passed. The fifth time he held my head firmly in place and I heard him plead, 'For the love of Jesus, for Christ's sake make me come, boy. Now.'

But again I managed to slip his cock from my lips, and this time moved to sit beside him on my seat, slipping my cock out of my shorts. I leaned over and took his cock in my mouth again, and held one of his hands, pressing it against my crotch. The feel of my naked little-boy cock was just too much for him and I felt his whole body stiffen and then the first spurt of hot, silky, salty cum in my mouth. I had really worked him up and it took four more spurts before his cock settled into the slow twitches of satisfaction. I had managed to swallow the lot, and contented myself with licking the last oozings from his gradually softening prick.

Guys either chatter a lot or are completely silent after sex. This was one of the latter. He pulled up his pants, buckled the belt, put the car into first and went back along the rutted path.

'Where can I drop you?'

I could have asked for him to take me through all the way to Cliffhaven, but I decided I would have at least one more session before getting to the beach. 'You know the big lay-bye and truck-stop about twenty miles down the road?'

'OK, I'll drop you there, no problem. By the way, I haven't done that since I left school, and it was great.'

'So you'll do it again?'

'If I can find another boy as good-looking as you, which I doubt. But yes, I must!'

                                      ..........................................

It was still only ten O'clock but the sun felt warm on my bare legs. It would be a lovely day, and promised good weather for the rest of my week at the beach. I considered taking off my shirt and sunning my back, still tanned from last year, but nowhere near as deep as it would be by the end of the summer. I was about to remove my shirt, as after all a bare torso was likely to generate a lift from the sort of guy I was looking for, when again I was lucky.... or it was those shorts! Anyway, within ten minutes of the car dropping me off an HGV drew into the lay-bye and stopped a cricket pitch or so along it. A tanned, tattooed arm came out the window and beckoned.

My heart leaped when I saw the driver close-up. 

'Where you going, son?'

'Cliffhaven way.'

'Jump in, then.'

He was one of those small, wiry guys, muscular,all right, but not with the body building sort of muscles. "Fit" is the word that came to mind. The cab was not as hot as the roadside had been, and was one of those modern rigs with air-conditioning. The guy had bare shoulders and arms as he was wearing a company overalls with the logo on the front, and no shirt or vest under. I thought he looked sexy!

'Been there long?'

I launched into my rehearsed "come-on". 'Five minutes. The last lift offered me five ponds to suck him off.'

'Don't blame him! You're drop-dead sexy!'

'I charged him a tenner, though.'

His eyes met mine. Like mine his were blue, and it crossed my mind that I would like to look like him in ten or so years, bit taller perhaps ideally, but fit and strong like him. He had a tattoo on his arm, a heart and dagger and the name "Rosie". Was he straight, I wondered, or perhaps bi? He certainly had a look in his eye, and his gaze wandered off down to my crotch, where a tent had formed in my over-tight denim shorts.

'A tenner? You're worth it! Suck me off for a tenner?'

'Yup.'

The truck was moving slowly in first gear down the lay-bye towards the road-exit: he pulled over, stopped and switched off the motor.

'OK. Ten it is. Here.' His jacket hung behind him, the same blue cotton as his uniform overalls. He took a wallet out, found the note and handed it to me. I shoved it in my back pocket with the tenner from the BMW. 'Take your shoes off and get up in there.' He indicated the bunk behind a curtain over our heads, behind us.

It was cosy in there, cleaner than you would expect, and a decent amount of headroom. I fancied this guy, and decided to give him a treat, so I stripped off my shorts and shirt, and slipped my socks into my pockets, waiting for him bollock-naked. I moved to the back of the double-bed space to let him in as he hoisted himself up.

'Now if that isn't a wet-dream. You're something, sonny!' His arms were around me and his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth. I could feel his cock pressing hard against my own as we lay side-by-side. 'I'll get out of these, too.' He wore nothing beneath his overalls and in a couple of seconds was naked as well. Naked body to naked body this time, and my hands feeling him. As I thought when I saw him first, he was very fit, all bone and muscle, with the sort of hard body that would hurt if he tackled you in the rugby field. I felt his tight little butt, all firm and no flab, and licked his bicep, over the tattoo, salty and above all firm and masculine.

'You didn't get fit like this sitting behind an HGV steering wheel!'

'Nah! I'm a boxer and train all the time I'm not working. Amateur, but good. May go to the Olympics next year if I'm lucky in my next two fights. Lightweight.'

'So you're fast as well as strong.' I was really enjoying the feel of his hands stroking my arse and thighs, and the feel of his cock against me. I kissed him again. 'Can I suck you now?'

'Me first!' 

There was nothing amateur about his action on my cock. I had enjoyed a lot of mouths on my cock by then, but he was one of the best, or perhaps he seemed so because I fancied him so much! Anyway, he slid my length into his mouth and sucked me with little fluttering movements of his tongue up and down the front of my shaft. I felt his fingers in the crease of my arse as he slid the cock from his mouth and licked my balls with the tip of a pointed tongue. He looked closely at my cock as if committing it to memory, and perhaps he was, as how often does a guy find a pretty, teenage boy to play with in the best game of all?   

'My turn now!' I wanted that cock, so very, very straight and stiff. Rosie's own plaything! Like everything about him, it was slender but very, very hard. It was the most aroused cock I had ever seen, standing so proud that the knob was only a fraction of an inch away from his belly-button. I held it, and it felt like wood under the warm skin. I wanted it. Mouth or arse, I wanted it! 

'Do you take it? In your bum I mean.'

'Have you got a condom?'

'Yeah!'

'How do you want me?' Suddenly I wanted nothing more than to feel his cock deep in me; more even than in my mouth I wanted him to fuck me.

'Kneeling. I want your lovely, little-boy arse.'

There was headroom for me to kneel, and I felt his hands on my arse-cheeks, pulling them apart to expose my anus. My hole is reddish-brown and was naturally hairless at that time. (Later years I had to wax it, though I never was very hairy.) And it was pretty, with only three or four little wrinkles, like the petals of a flower Paolo used to say. I knew what would come next, and jutted my arse out to receive his tongue.

'That's beautiful. What a bod you've got, sweetie.' 

I felt the harshness of his rough-shaven cheeks against the sensitive skin of my buttocks, and his tongue tickled me as it probed into me. He reached into a cubby hole over our heads, and I heard him tear open a packet, and the fumbling sound of the rubber being rolled down his cock. Now the cold of some lube in my arse, and the warmth of his finger slipping into me. 

'Now! Do me now! God, I want it!'

'You little darling!' There was the usual pang as his knob entered, and for a few seconds after, but as he sank deeper and deeper into me it was replaced by the familiar, satisfying feeling of warmth. Yes, there was still pain, or at least discomfort, but the promise too of pleasure.'

'OK?'

'Mmmmmm!' Now fuck me.' 

I had learned from Paolo how close pain and pleasure are, how they can co-exist. This incredibly firm and hard cock moved in and out to its full depth, and gradually awoke my prostate, pressing on it with each thrust, massaging it, and as my anus relaxed the pleasure outweighed the pain until I heard myself begging him to fuck me harder, faster. I would have liked to have wanked my cock, but knew that he would collapse me on the mattress if I removed one of my elbows from it, and feared he would lose his rhythm, even worse slip out entirely if I did so. His running commentary was of praise for my "bubble butt", for the "tightness", for my "flawless back", for my ability to take it, that I was so "up for it". He went on and on about how good it was, and I merely panted in my pleasure, lost in the ecstasy of a really great fuck. I could feel the thrusts getting shorter and swifter and knew he would come soon. I willed him to fuck me and fuck me and fuck me, for hours, please, but then I heard his oaths and felt his cock pulse deep inside me, and knew he had spurted cum into that damned rubber. It made sense, but how much better it was to feel the cock slip and slide in hot spunk! Never mind, it had been a good fuck, and I collapsed, belly onto the mattress, his weight on top of me, his cock pulsing still in my anus.

Dressed again, and driving the thirty or so miles down the road to the little fishing harbour, I learned he was called Jake Lowell, and told him I would follow his boxing career. He suggested we might meet again if he had a match in the West Country... he sometimes had a match in Bristol or Cardiff. I told him I was fourteen. "Jesus!" was his comment as he realised what he had just done was legally rape of a minor. I laughed and told him it hadn't seemed like rape to me. I decided two sessions was enough for one morning and that I would not have him drop me off short to pick up another lift, despite the fact I had not cum yet. For the moment, surfing seemed more inviting than sex! He dropped me off at  Cliffhaven and it still was not mid-day.

I collected some food and drink at a small stores, and set off on foot the mile or so to the east, along the cliffs, to the bay where we had our beach-hut. I passed the car-park (rather further by road than on foot along the cliffs) but it was empty. However, for old-times' sake I had a look in the toilets: nothing had changed over the winter.

The hut had come through the winter undamaged, and my surf board and wet-suit were there and all ok.

                                       .......................................................................

The beach was empty except for one surfer. I watched him for a few minutes, and saw he was not as good at surfing as me, but not too bad all the same. I waited for him to catch a wave and come in close, and then waded out to join him.

It was Mark Abrahams, from my school but in the Upper Sixth, four years ahead of me. He was almost a man, at seventeen or eighteen. But he was friendly enough, and we surfed together for about a couple of hours before I told him I had better go and get organised at my hut. I would, however, be on the beach again in the morning.  

It took me about an hour to air the place and blow up the inflatable mattress I would use under my sleeping bag. The gas was on and the cylinder was nearly full. I put away the food and drink..... and decided to go up to the carpark! I had not cum in the BMW or the truck, and was feeling real horny. Late afternoon was the best time to catch straights looking for a bit of sex, and especially boy-sex!

                                      ....................................................................... 

I checked out the toilets. Empty. And peeped into the cubicles. All empty, and the glory hole was still there, though personally I preferred the whole body of a guy to the anonymity of a hard cock by itself. I went and sat on my shirt draped over the wall, my back to the sun and the beach. I had been there half an hour with no car at all and was about to give up. Obviously the place would be busier in Summer than in Spring. But then a car drew in, slowly, and parked carefully. Looked possible. Some sort of Japanese sports car. A middle-aged guy in a white shirt stepped out, stretched and made his way to the toilets. I gave him three minutes. Either he was having a dump, or he was waiting for some action. and there he was, still standing at the urinals, and I should think very happy to have a pretty, fourteen year-old standing beside him. I looked down and sideways. Nice, hard, cut cock. I turned slightly so he could see my much smaller, but oh-so-desirable hard little-boy shaft. I murmured, 'Tenner for a suck'. 

'Me or you?'

'Either.....'

'OK.'
 
The familiar gesture of reaching into back pocket for wallet, peeling off a note, and then following me into the end cubicle, the one with a glory hole. He did not speak....that's safest when you are two in one cubicle and can't be sure who is outside .... but sat on the seat and started to undo my shorts' belt as I stood before him. They fell to the floor and I was naked as I had left my tee-shirt on the wall outside. He had one arm around me, holding my arse, while with his free hand he unzipped and took his cock out. I was relieved that, at last today, I was going to be sucked, and would get some relief from the sexual tension that had been building. He jerked at his cock as he sucked me, and did not need to be really good at it to get me to the edge of coming. I shut my eyes and imagined it was Jake Lowell sucking and not some anonymous, chubby middle-aged creep. I came and he swallowed, choking slightly as I spurted clear into his throat I guess. He had not come, but my contract was fulfilled and I pulled up my shorts. I was just opening the door when a cock appeared through the glory hole. My wanking guy turned and in a second his lips were round that cock in its turn. I slipped out of the cubicle leaving him jerking on his own cock and sucking on that anonymous offering from the next cubicle.

In the carpark a motor-cycle had joined the sports car. I had had enough for the day and went back to my hut.

                                ..........................................................................

The next day was clear and warm again, but I gave it till nearly mid-day to really warm up before I took my surfboard down to the beach. Mark was already there: had been for over an hour, and we surfed together for nearly three hours before I had had enough. He had too, and we went back together to his tent where he made some coffee on the little spirit stove. I must say I enjoyed watching as he pulled off his wet suit. He turned his back on me at the crucial moment but I had a fleeting glimpse of a large, cut cock, impressively long even in its limp state. And with his back to me while he slipped on shorts and shirt I had a glorious view of strong buttocks, narrow and forming a triangle with broad shoulders.He was quite hairy too.... you know by now what I like! I had to keep my wet suit on, a bit uncomfortable, but at least it hid the erection his brief nakedness had given me.

Later, I sat on that wall for a long time, but no car drove up. Mark came past and gave me a wave. Half an hour later he came back carrying a couple of plastic bags from the little shop. I was really bored waiting for sex, my cock intermittently hard in anticipation, and decided to walk back to the beach with him. I invited him back to my place this time for a proper coffee. Down the narrow path he walked ahead and I was happy to watch his bottom move sexily under tight shorts, and like me he had his shirt off so I could admire the muscles on a flawless back. By the time we got to my hut I was hot, and not only from the sun!

He was willing to chat despite our age differences. And did I fancy him! There were a couple of deckchairs as part of the furniture of the hut, and we stretched out in them in the sun. I made no attempt to hide my hard-on, and occasionally caught his eye flickering down towards it. He had some cans of beer in one of his shopping bags and insisted we drink some. We were on our third strong lager, and I guess a bit tipsy by the time the conversation moved on to more interesting matters than surfing, football and school.

'Good to drink beer in the sun after a work out in the surf.' He stretched his legs and raised his arse as he did so. The muscles stood out on his six-pack belly and along his sun-tanned thighs. Mark was blonde, like me, but wore his hair cropped very short. The hair on his legs looked golden in the sun, and I wondered whether his pubic hair would be golden blonde like my few wisps, or red like some blondes. I hoped he was blonde there too. His belly was still clear of any other than the lightest fuzz, and his bronzed chest too.

'Good beer, and strong. I don't get it much!'

'I meant to ask. Why do you sit on the wall in the car-park? You've been there two afternoons.'

It may have been the beer I was not used to, it may have been the sight of that strong, masculine bod, or it may have been some devil that got into me. Whatever it was my answer just slipped out. 'Guys park up there for me to suck them off!'

'Fuckin ell! Gross.'

'No, not really. I love it and most of them are married guys whose wives won't give them head. And a mouth's just a mouth in any case! Does Jennifer suck you off?' Jennifer santini was Mark Abraham's little squeeze at the time. The guys in my class used to drool and fantasise over her though she was a couple of years older than us. I guess she was pretty if you like tall tits, a tiny waist and long, slender legs. No good for me as you might guess, but if she had a brother with the same latin looks and muscle tone....

There was a pause while Mark considered whether to answer my question. Probably he decided I had been so very open with him, he would. 'Nah! I've asked her, but no way.' There was a real regret in his voice. And I could see his cock beginning to harden, making a tent in his thin white shorts. I thought to myself I could just make out the shape of a knob, and that he probably was not wearing underpants. I was stiffening too.

'Then you don't know what you're missing: it's great, and I'm good so they say. Shall I suck you off?' I did not wait for an answer, but reached over and grabbed that hardening cock through the thin cotton, feeling it steely hard in my grasp. 'A mouth's just a mouth, after all. Shut your eyes and imagine it's Jennifer.' I knelt beside his deckchair and pulled the waist of his shorts down: they were the elasticated gym-shorts type we wore for summer sports at school. His cock popped out, and I saw he was cut; 'Jewish', I thought. 'Yummy!' I did not want to give him any time to change his mind ... I was sure he was straight and a virgin for gay sex ... so I slipped him into my mouth and made sure the whole length was down my throat immediately. I rested it there, sucking and fluttering my tongue against the front of his shaft, and especially just under the knob where it is most sensitive. I could feel it twitching in my mouth and tasted precum. I looked up at his face and he had his eyes shut and a smile of contentment. Jennifer I guess! I slipped it out as far as his knob and then slid the length in again. His body arched with pleasure, and I profited from his raising his arse from the canvas to pull his shorts completely down and off over his sandals. He was naked for me! 

I was bobbing up and down on him now, still working rather slowly as I wanted this to last as long as possible. His body if anything felt even greater than it looked and I stroked his belly, ruffling the fine, almost invisible golden hairs below his navel, pressing on his six pack and feeling it tighten involuntarily under my kneading and fondling. I would have liked to have felt that hard little butt, beyond my reach at the moment and that pleasure would have to be for later. Because, oh yes! I intended to have him again and again now he had succumbed once to my caresses! His thighs were strong and tanned already this early in the year, I assumed from hours spent on the training ground and match-pitch in rare moments of winter sunshine. The tan was lighter towards his groin, but still a pale gold from last summer. I stroked and smoothed the hairs on his thighs, and especially on the inside where the skin was smoother, softer. He was a delight!

I tasted a sudden increase in pre-cum, and switched my attention to his balls. He groaned a protest, but I did not want him to cum just yet: this was too good! I licked his balls, teasing them with the tip of my tongue, and then gently, so gently, took one entirely into my mouth. His cock twitched and precum dribbled down it. I just had to have it again, cum or no cum! Back in my mouth it seemed to have a life of its own, pulsing and twitching. To make sure I did not leave him in the air again, seconds away from orgasm, he grasped my head in both hands and held it down while his hips raised up, fell, raised again, fell, and then raised again as he groaned in pleasure and I felt his spunk well out into my mouth. I gagged a second as a spurt hit my throat, but then my mouth was filled with hot, silky, almost tasteless cum. I swallowed, swallowed, swallowed as he spurted, and my head was bobbing up and down again in rhythm with his spurts.

Finally his hips stopped heaving and I rested, his cock still in my mouth, still oozing with little twitches of pleasure. We stayed a long moment, in suspended animation as it were, he in amazement at the pleasure he had felt, me at the virility of this handsome hunk. Finally his cock subsided, and before it was wholly limp I let it slip from my mouth. I gave his so-masculine belly a little kiss, and sat again in my deck-chair. I decided not to speak, to let him talk first.

The silence lasted about five minutes. I could almost feel him trying to come to terms with his first gay sex experience. Did this mean he was gay, etc, etc. Finally he spoke.

'That was great, wonderful, magnificent. I never knew it could be so good!'

'Thank you, Mark. It was great for me, and I'm so glad it was good for you too. I'll do it again any time you want.'

'I may hold you to that!'

'God! I hope so!'

                                 ............................................................................

We sat drinking the last of Mark's beers until early evening, when I put on the radio. Surfers always do this to get the weather forecast for the next day, and on the local station even a special surfing forecast. We had a shock!

'The Metereological Office has issued a severe weather warning for North Cornwall, Devon and the Severn Estuary. Storm force winds are expected and there will be localised flooding. The storm is expected to arrive in the early hours of the morning, and will not have blown itself out till mid-day tomorrow. Tomorrow afternoon will be blustery and fresher than of late, but with long periods of sunshine.'

'Surf will be good tomorrow then, after a storm.'

'Shit! But what about my tent?'

I had not thought about that, snug in my timber-built beach house. A little pea-pod tent had little chance of surviving 'storm-force winds'! Over-the-hills-and-far-away I should think!

'I hadn't thought of that. Better go down before it's dark and pack it all up. Stay the night here. There's plenty of room, and the mattress is double, so it'll be comfortable.'

'Thank you, Lord,' I thought. All night on a double blow-up mattress with this hulk! 'Oh, thank you, you Gods of male sex!' 

                                   ..........................................................................

We stumbled a bit on the rock path ... cans of strong lager! ... but finally got everything safely packed and back to the beach hut. The wind was getting stronger as I lit he gas grill to fry up some eggs, sausages and mushrooms. We would eat these with instant potatos and a few cups of coffee. By the time it was all cleared away and washed up it was nearly dark. We only had candles in the hut so it was sensible to go to bed with dusk and rise with dawn. 

It was the work of a few moments to inflate the mattress and lay out the sleeping bags.

I made sure Mark had a good eyeful of my butt when I undressed: I wanted him to see what is still my best feature. No-one, but no-one sees my cute bubble butt and just ignores it!

But, I guess, he was still emptied from his blow job a couple of hours before, and I was hard because I had watched him strip for bed, but not completely desperate as the guy in the toilets had taken the edge off my lust, so we just lay down, each in his sleeping bag, and I was soon asleep.

We awoke with the first crash of thunder. I lit a candle and saw it was two-thirty. The storm, on-time and as forecast! The rain beat on the large picture-window and the wind howled between the huts, or perhaps around the cliffs behind them. I stood by the window, looking out at the sheet-lightning far out to sea. I was aware of Mark then, standing beside me in the dim light of the candle. I turned slightly to look at him, and in that moment he was lit brilliantly by a flash of lightning. Like me, he was naked, and I saw again that beautiful cock, arcing gracefully over his lovely big balls, all framed by the blonde curls of his pubic hair. I was aware he must have seen me just as clearly. In the darkness again my cock instantly became erect. The thunder blasted us with a great explosion and then a rolling roar. More sheets and forks of lightning out to see.

'Christ! That must have been close!' Mark was very close beside me now.

I had been counting seconds between the flas and the thunder. 'Within half a mile. Reckon it struck the cliffs behind us.'

'Glad I'm in here with you, and not out there in my tent. Especially not on the cliffs!'

'Quite a show, isn't it. I love these storms.'

'Me too. I can see you clearly in the flashes.'

'I've been looking at you, too, Mark!'

I felt his hand on my arse. 'You've got a lovely body, Duncan!' His hand caressed my buttocks, stroking and kneading. My cock was super-rigid now, like winged steel!

'You like my arse, Mark?  It's my best feature, thank goodness. It's what's called "bubble butt".'

'Bubble butt? Oh I see, like a soap bubble, round and smooth. Yes, it's lovely! I never thought I'd find a boy's bod sexy, but yours is.'

'I can see that. And feel it!' I reached and held his cock, hard as mine, in my left hand. 'I'd like you to fuck me, Mark. I'll kneel for you and you can enjoy my arse if you want. I'm really up for it, and especially with the storm and all. It's very exciting! Or if you prefer I'll lean against the window and you can fuck me while we watch the storm.'  

The wind sometimes got into the hut and the candle would flare up for a moment, before flickering down. In these moments, and in the lightning flashes I could see his cock standing so hard that it nearly touched his belly-button, perpendicular and as straight as my trusty old chair-leg at home. I knew where I wanted it. If only he would take his newfound bi-sexuality as far as buggering a boy!

I did not wait for a answer, but leaned on the window ledge and stuck my arse out for him. I spat on my fingers, and lubricted my hole. That would have to do. I did not want the interruption of looking for my lube in the dark and possibly giving his hetero side time to assert itself. 'Come on, Mark, just get behind me. I'll place it right.'

I felt his breath on my shoulders and then the shape of his knob pressing into that hard bit between my anus and my balls. I moved down an inch by jutting my arse out even further and his knob was exactly right, pressing on my arsehole. I love that feeling, the pressure of an urgent cock seconds away from penetration. I reached behind and grasped it, holding it in the right place. I could feel precum running down it: my spit and his precum would be enough! I thought of those strong thighs, that muscular arse, and felt my precum drip over my balls and down onto my thighs. I had never been so eager, not even with Paolo.

'Push now, Mark. Oh yes, like that.' There was the usual momentary pain, the greater because his knob was quite large and we were not using lube, but he pushed again and won another inch. One more and he was up me, his thighs resting up against my butt. He stopped, and I could feel his hands fondling my hips. 'Now fuck me, Mark, as hard as you like!'

The thunder roared, the lightning flashed, the wind howled and the rain beat on the windows, but the sound of his thighs smacking against my buttocks with each thrust seemed to drown all out. It was almost too violent for me as he fucked me as if it was a cunt not an arse, but each thrust battered my prostate and sent jolts of pleasure amid the pain. I felt him reach round me, and then, joy! I felt his hand close around my cock, the first time he had really touched me sexually. So far I had pleasured him, but now he was seeking my pleasure. or perhaps he just wanted to feel a little-boy-hard-cock to add to his own excitement. Bit Of both I expect. At all events, I knew I would cum if he moved his fingers at all on my cock. He did just that, sliding his grip loosely down my shaft, up again, and then again down the length. My whole system uncoiled like a watch-spring and I felt the orgasm through my arse, my balls, and finally through my cock as my spunk splashed into the wall in front of me, some of it surely drenching his lover's fist. Anyone will tell you there is no feeling like the orgasm you get as you cum with a cock in your bum! It may have been the feel of slippery cum on his fingers, or perhaps the contractions of my arse as I came, but I felt him slow a second, then give a great push of his cock. I imagined I could feel his cum spurt deep inside me. Another thrust, another cum. And again, again, and then quieter thrusts as the orgasm fell away.

He planted a tender kiss in the centre of my back, his lips lingering, and I knew it was his way of thanking me, acknowledging his conversion to buggery!

Later I wiped him with an old towel, and stuck it between my legs to soak up any mess from the loads he had shot into me. We slept then, despite the storm, each in his own sleeping bag, but haddled against each other.

                                        ....................................................................

In the morning he wanted me again, and although I was feeling a bit sore I gave my arse to him. I had him fuck me missionary position this time, and he was amazed to find that boys could fuck face-to-face like a boy and a girl. I'm sure he enjoyed my arse more from behind (I have a lovely arse!) but for me the pleasure of having him kiss me as he came was intense. I did not cum this time.

We pissed side-by-side into the bucket on the verandah, and I was amazed to find I was not arid in the company of another guy, the first time I had ever been able to piss while someone was watching: I decided it was because I loved him!

After breakfast we both went over to the toilets for a dump. We had cubicles side-by-side, and chatted as we strained.

'Bloody hell! Must be that beer last night!'

'Me too...but more likely you filling me up!'

'That was good. I've done now.'

'Me too.'

'So this is where you suck guy's cocks?'

'Yup. Actually in this cubicle. End one.'

'I wouldn't mind watching that.'

'Easy! No problem.'

'You use this hole?' His finger appeared through the glory hole.

'No, I prefer to be able to see the guy. Get him in here with me.'

'I liked the feel of you as you came last night. Your cock felt good.'

'Felt good to me!'

'Are you hard?'

'Yup.'

'Me too, thinking about last night. Hey, stick your cock through so I can hold it.'

I was amazed. Mark Abrahams asking me to stick my cock through a glory hole! I stood up and poked it in. I felt his hand around it.

'Feels like mine, but different.'

'Smaller!'

'Yeah, but nice all the same.' Wonder of wonders, I felt his mouth, warm and wet as his lips closed on my cock. Now I was sure he was a convert to gay sex. Mark Abrahams sucking a little-boy cock! He was not very profficient at it and sometimes I felt his teeth as he slid it in and out of his mouth. But the occasional discomfort was a nothing price to play beside the excitement of a virgin cock-sucker, and such a handsome guy too! I tried to make it last as long as possible, but of course it was too much for me and I soon came. I guessed he had kept his mouth around it through my orgasm and must have taken my little load of boyish cum. I did not hear him spit.

'There! Now I've done it. You're really my lover now, Duncan. I was thinking about that all the time we were walking up here. And I still want to see you suck a guy off.'

'No reason why not. After we've surfed we can come up here and sort it out. You can fuck me while I suck. I'd like that.'

'Cool!'

                                               ......................................................................

The surf was good, very good in fact, but my mind was still more on the promise for later that afternoon. I still could not really get my mind around the macho Mark Abrahams, all the girls' hero, as a bisexual!

At four o'clock the sun was still hot enough for us to be sitting side-by-side on the car-park wall, wearing only our speedos, and sharing a can of beer.I had a hard on already, making a bulge in my tight, grey trunks, but that was nothing to the shape that showed clear through Mark's brilliant scarlet speedos: I swear you could see he was circumcised as clearly as if he was naked: he might as well have been naked!

'Nobody yet!'

'Gotta be patient, Mark. we've only been here ten minutes, and four is just a bit early. Someone'll come, you'll see.'

It was afurther ten minutes, and the beer was finished when a red coupe drew slowly into the carpark. The driver looked a youngish guy, thirty perhaops, and fit-looking. dark hair, and mediterranean looks, reminded me of Paolo. He certainly looked at us, and walked to the toilet block slowly. He turned and looked again before entering.

'He'll do, Mark. Give me five minutes and then come in!'

The transaction was as smooth as usual, and with minimum words as usual. I trousered the tenner by slipping it folded into the watch pocket on my speedos and beckoned the guy into the end cubicle with me. I motioned for him to sit on the seat and loosened his belt and unzipped his flies. He was hard ready for me. I pulled my trunks down and gave him a quick view of my stiff little cock before kneeling at the altar as it were. I wonder how many cocks I've seen, handled, sucked since then? Thousands I should think, and yet I can still see that one clearly in my mind's eye. Not because of anything special about it, but because of what happened next. I had just pulled his shorts down around his ankles and had his cock in my hand. About six inches, not big, and with an ordinary sized knob. The foreskin was already back. I was about to lower my head to it and give him his ten pounds' worth when we heard the main outside door creak as it always does.

'Shit!' His whisper was accompanied by a hurried attempt to pull up his pants. Caught in the act with an under-age boy!

'It's OK. It's my mate. He'll want to join in. OK with you?'

'The good-looking lad in red speedos? Good lord, yes! More the merrier!'

Of course I expected Mark to be straight up my arse as I knelt there, and I wiggled my bottom provocatively for him. But to my amazement he knelt beside me, and it was his mouth that descended to the waiting cock before mine could! I said I was amazed, but the word seems inadequate to describe what I felt seeing yesterday's macho male transformed into today's cocksucker. What one night in bed with a pretty teenage boy can do to a guy! He wasn't the first, I'm sure, and he won't be the last I'm equally sure, to want to move up from a sweet and delicate little-boy-cock to the real thing, a grown male capable of pumping loads of spunk! I know from my own experience of both that the smooth, soft buttocks of a little boy, and his finger-thick four inches are quite delightful, but as nothing compared with the hairy power of the grown male. Most guys probably start with boys, sharing wanking and later sucking. I was lucky, and knew sex with an adult before having it with boys of my own age.

I watched him suck, head bobbing up and down, hands on the guy's hips for balance as he knelt. I reached and slipped his trunks down, freeing up his cock for myself. It was awkward, but I managed to suck Mark's knob for a minute or two before it became just too uncomfortable for pleasure. So I started to kiss and lick the guy's balls, fitting my head neatly between the two of them. The guy groaned, and I felt his hand ruffling my hair. I looked up and saw Mark's head was getting the same caress. I reached down and held Mark's cock as he sucked and dribbled spit onto the cock. It would not be long now. I thought Mark had swallowed my spunk at the glory hole in the morning, but what would he make of the hot, thick, and above all copious cum of an adult? My unspoken question was answered as the guy came, panting, suppressing most noises but still obviously cumming loads. Mark swallowed it all!

As usual, the guy wanted out as quickly as possible after he had come, and left the two of us in the cubicle as he crossed the toilets doing up his belt.

I looked at Mark. He looked at me. We both laughed.

'I enjoyed that. I never thought I could, but it's as good as you said, Duncan.'

'Yup. I could see that! And I guess this is your's Mark. You're the one who earned it!' I held out the folded tenner.

'Shit no! I wouldn't have dared ask for it. That takes a real nerve!'

'But you will next time, Mark. Here. Take it. It's yours by right.' He would not so I slipped it into the waist of his speedos, which he had pulled up again, over that bone-hard cock.

'Thanks, Duncan. I suppose that makes me a whore!'

'Show me a nicer way to earn a few quid. I'd do it for free!'

'Me too, now. Shall I fuck you in here?'

'Let's go back and get the mattress out.'

It was colder outside now, in our skimpy speedos. But that was not why we ran together down the path to the hut, and another night of love!

                               ....................................................................

All the incidents in the story I have told have featured pleasant guys. Mac, Paolo, Mark, even the guys who bought my mouth or my cock. I could have added others: Simon, John and Henry, boys in my class at school; Nice Mr Patel at the village shop with his kindly ways, silky smooth brown skin, and wonderfully springy cock; yes and dozens of ten-pound-a-time guys. But as you will expect there were some who proved the world is also full of real bastards! And a case in point was Mr Strang!

Mac had once explained to me that the root cause of most homophobia was repressed homosexuality. "You can't really blame the guys too much, Duncan, as it's Society, the Churches, Schools, the tabloid Press, even in my youth the Law, all those influences tell young lads that it's wrong to love another boy. So many boys repress their innate urges and force themselves into a heterosexual mould which is false to their true nature. Gay-bashing is one of the results.' He told me this to explain why I would be unwise to "come out" until I had left school and was in a better position to protect myself from homophobic bullying.

His theory was about to be proved by the sneaky and miserable Strang!

'Pratt! Come here, boy!'

'It's Platt, sir. My names Platt.' He knew that, of course. Just being objectionable as usual.

'Whatever! Come to my room at one-thirty. Don't be late, Pratt.'

                                .................................................

They tell me, Pratt...'

'Platt, sir.'

'They tell me, boy, that you've been seen hanging about round the public conveniences at the bus interchange.' He paused. I went cold with apprehension.'Further, Pratt, they tell me that you solicit men, offering them oral sex for ten pounds.'

I was in a cold sweat now. Who were these "they" who had told him? Then I realised that it just had to be one of my clients, and if he was a guy who liked to be sucked off by an under-age boy, under what circumstances would he tell Strang? My mind was working fast. Strang would only know either if he hung about there himself and had somehow seen me, or if he was close enough to one of my guys to get this really dangerous confidence from him. Either way he was not a very dangerous witness! I felt better, a bit at any rate!

'I shall take your silence as an admission of guilt, Pratt.'

'Platt, sir.'

'Don't answer back, boy! The only question is who should I inform about this, Mr Anderson (our Headmaster), or perhaps the Social Services Department? Not the police, I think. Yes, Social Services might be best, though it will certainly mean you being taken into care. Pity! Those care homes are rough places I hear: I expect you'd soon become sexually quite versatile. Oh yes! And not only with oral sex, a good-looking young lad like you.' He was almost drooling!

I was silent, waiting for the punch line of what sounded like a prepared script. It was not long coming.

'On the other hand...' He paused a long moment. 'On the other hand, give me what you sell to those men and I may hold my silence.'

So the cheapskate wanted me to suck him off, and all this rigamarole was just to avoid paying me. Mean little bastard! And I knew it would not be once only. If I gave into him it would be as often as he wanted it for my whole school career, or until such time I was too old to arouse his lust for teenage boys.

He was undoing his belt, and he let his trousers fall to his ankles: he was naked beneath, in preparation for this treat. He stood there with his skinny white legs apart, his balls hanging down red and raw looking: he presumably had athletes-foot or some such fungal infection in his disgusting crotch. His cock stood up, but was tiny, the smallest I had seen in a grown man, and I had seen a few by then. It stood, and seemed to have been circumcised, but it had a brown birth-mark over the end of it, reaching halfway down, looking as if someone had poured liquid shit over it. I did not know whether to shudder or laugh! But mostly I was angry. This had to do with power and humiliation, and not sex. Sex was between willing equals, even if one had paid money, but this was about force and and the superiority of one male over another. Well! I'd show the mean, ugly, little bastard!  

His hand was on my shoulder and the weight of it forced me to my knees, in front of the ugliest set of tackle I had ever seen, or was ever to see. 'They say you're good, Pratt. You'd better be.' His two hands held my head and pushed it down on his knob. Of course, in my mouth it felt like any other cock, but I was still seething with anger. This was almost a rape! I'd show him! I cupped his balls with one hand and heard him groan with pleasure. He must have thought that this was a gesture of submission, of willingneess to pleasure him. He was about to learn differently as I cupped his balls in my left hand, made a fist with my right, and brought that fist crashing into his balls, crushing them between that fist and the palm of my hand. His scream must have echoed round the school, but the door of his little cubby hole was soundly locked! That scream was followed by another as I bit hard into his knob. And yet another as I pulled and squeezed his martyrised balls before letting go and standing up. He was crouching, doubled up, holding his cock and his balls in one hand.

He spat the next words out. 'You'll regret that, Pratt. Social Services for you.'

'It's Platt, sir. And I won't regret it because there's nothing you can do. Think about it. First, if you say anything I'll tell what you have just done, and even if they don't believe me mud will stick. And I guess other boys will come forward once one does, eh? I thought so. Second I can prove it. No-one ever had a cock and balls as ugly as yours, and I can describe them in detail. Proof you see. Third, my guess is your house is full of porn. You'll have to destroy all that quick before the police come knocking. And fourth, I bet your computer is full of kiddie porn?' He blanched white. 'I thought so. Better chuck it in the sea, as you can't be sure what those forensic guys can recover from any hard disk. Not worth it is it? And if I hear anything more from you, I can spread a few rumours too. I won't if you dont!'

With that I was out the door, shutting it in a civilised manner behind me.

And I almost kept my word. I only told Mac, and Paolo, and Mark, and Simon, and John, and Henry, and Mr Patel, and of course any of you who have taken the trouble to read this far. So I can't imagine how all those rumours started about Mr Strang, that probably were the reason he left in mid-term.



    

 






 


  

  

   
                              
 
