A Boy's Part Time Job. by (c) Hamilton Joyce

It was a large cardboard box, and I decided to sort through it a bit because I could see some of those older French books, the ones with plain white or buff wrappers. In fact it was a mix of engineering and mining books in German, those fifties and sixties French novels and historical works, and also some crime thrillers published about five years back. The guy was not interested in selling individual books, and as he only wanted two pounds for the lot I paid up and carried them off to the Boot Sale carpark.

I'm glad I did, as I would not have found this fascinating little story otherwise. And I so wish I had bothered to ask the seller where the box had come from, how it had come to England. He was certainly neither French nor German himself with that Liverpool scouser accent!

It was months before I found it when I was sorting out the technical books in German to throw out, unwanted. The cd-rom fell out of the pages of a heavy tome where it had certainly been hidden deliberately. I nearly threw it away as well, but on an impulse loaded it into my PC, checked it for viruses, and then opened the Windows folder it contained. The file consisted of this narrative, written partly in French, partly in German, and mostly in patois, a mixture of French and German they often speak along the Rhine borders of the two nations, but you seldom see written. Luckily my job has made me fluent in both languages, and after I had read the first two chapters of the story I decided to translate it into English. This is that translation, and I hope you find it as interesting as I did.

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

My Part-Time Job, by Pascal.

I'm not sure why I am writing this down, because no-one except me will ever read it. Perhaps it is because so much has happened to me in the last year that I will soon find it difficult to remember it all, and it has been so exciting it would be a shame to forget it. It could get me and my friends into a lot of trouble, I know, but I am making sure it is never left in the computer, and the memory stick will be well hidden. From time to time I will put it on a disk and can hide that well also.

My name is Pascal, and I am now fourteen, though when the story begins I was still one month short of my fourteenth birthday. I live in a small town in the Black Forest region of France, close to the German border. Like all the village I can speak both French and German, and in my case I have been learning English at school. My father is German, working as an engineer in a mine, and my mother is French and does not work. I have always felt a bit different from my class-mates, mostly because I am tall and blonde, while they are typically short, stocky and dark-haired. My mother is blonde, and she says my grandfather was tall and blonde like me, a German from the Baltic Coast. I guess he was a soldier in the occupying army: he never married my Gran and was they say killed in the last days of the war. Gran never talks about him.

In the house Dad talks to Mum and me in German, Mum talks to me in French, and I use both languages. My father also sometimes talks to me in English, as he is keen for me to learn it and says once you have two languages, the third (and fourth) are easy. He would like me to go to university in the USA as he did.  He speaks Russian as well!

My story begins with me cycling into the small town one Friday morning to get the football paper I still read every week. In the village stores Monsieur Arnaud was sorting out the cards he puts in his shop window and changes each Friday.

'This looks like you, Pascal, if you want a part-time job.'

He handed me the card: "Two hours work each weekend: French, German and English speaker with some computer skills." The address was on the hill above the village, one of the three big, expensive houses up there. The telephone numnber was a mobile.

Dad was still home when I cycled back, and he told me "Go for it. A bit of pocket money is good for a lad, and the work too." 

I phoned and got an appointment and I remember I was quite excited. As usual when anything interesting happened my thirteen-year-old's cock stiffened. Almost anything would make it hard, even the vibration of the village bus when I took it into town. So I went to my room to jerk off. I can remember that one among all the others because it was the last masturbation that I had in complete ignorance of the pleasures of shared sex. I had an exercise book into which I stuck pictures clipped from magazines, mostly colour adverts. There would be plenty of women in sexy lingerie, and just the occasional naked breasts (I found that I liked the women with small, firm tits, and especially the ones who looked like teens... still do in fact!) There were also lots of men, mostly in tight speedos showing the bulge, but some of them naked from behind. I had not yet found any pic of a naked cock! All the men were fit and most of them very hairy and macho! I remember wanking off looking at a photo of a body-builder with great hairy legs and a barrel chest, imagining myself being hugged and caressed by him, my little-boy cock handled....it never took long, and I was just beginning to make enough cum to be worth tasting it! 

So the next morning, Saturday, I pushed my bike up the steep hill and rode it down quite a long gravel driveway to the house, which was very modern, all square bits with lots of huge glass windows. I propped my bike against a garden urn and rang the bell. Nothing! I rang again, and still nothing. I was about to give up when he appeared, not through the front door but round the corner of the house.

'Sorry to keep you waiting. It's Pascal isn't it? I could hear the bell, but I was at the end of the garden.'

He spoke in German, and I guessed he was testing me out as I had spoken French to him on the phone the day before, so I replied in German.

He introduced himself as Dieter.... no surname. Later I found out he called himself Dieter Falkenheim, though that was almost certainly not his real name!

'Come with me, Pascal, and I'll show you the job. Then we can each decide.'

As we walked round the house he checked what I know about computers, and I was able to answer that I had a laptop for several years, and we used them at school of course. Yes I knew all about Windows,and could find my way around very well. We entered the house through the garden door, straight into a huge kitchen with a great Aga-type oven and wine racks along one wall.

''My office is through here.'

You could describe the office as spartan. certainly there were none of the filing cabinets or paper files you expect to see, just an expensive looking office chair, a desk and a large screen desktop computer. Nothing else at all. My job would be to file away the correspondance that had been received since my last visit. It would be easy, if rather boring I thought. Still twenty euros for two hours work a week would be recompense for an aweful lot of boredom! I soon worked out that the correspondance was about orders placed and delivered and paid for by credit card. It must have been software, I guessed, as the delivery was by email too. 

What I had to do was to find the email address for each note and check existing files to see if there was already a folder: if there was, just move it in. If not I would set up a new one for that id. It looked as if Dieter had not done any of this for a month, but it still was well within two hours that I finished. With the last one done I swivelled the chair round, and found Dieter was standing in the doorawy looking at me. I wondered how long he had been there.

And I realised he looked very handsome. He was tall and had the same sort of blonde hair as me, but there the resemblance stopped because this guy was strong. He had baggy shorts, but you could see his legs were very muscular and especially his thighs. His t-shirt seemd a bit tight, but that was because he had developed pecs. I could see them and his nipples outined through the fabric. Above all he had a lovely smile and perfect, white teeth. He was better looking than all the pics in my exercise book, and I was embarassed to find my cock stiff yet again as I recalled those familiar images. I tried to cover the little tent with my hands as he stood beside me.

'Let's see what you've done, Pascal. Show me some old and new files.'

So I had to take my hands from my lap, and knew he could hardly fail to see my shame!

I explained,showed him, and he was pleased, telling me the job was mine, and giving me two red ten euro notes, crisp and new.

'Pascal, I like to take photographs, and since you are going to work, I hope for a long time, it would be nice to have a picture of you at your computer the first day.' I agreed, and he took a few very innocent shots of me smiling and working.

'I'll show you.'

He stood right up against me, his thigh touching me and I could feel the golden hairs tingling against my smooth legs. As he showed me the inmages on the camera's instant view I could feel my cock stiffen again. I was astounded to see his was too! It lay like an iron bar diagonally across his belly, outlined so clearly through the thin cloth of his baggy shorts. I wished I could see it for real!

'I see Pascal you're in the same state as me!' And beyond belief he took my hand from the keyboard and placed it on that cock. 'I badly need to jerk off! Do you jerk off, Pascal?' I didn't reply, blushing red. 'Or perhaps you call it wanking? Do you, Pascal? I do.' Finally I relied yes, and admitted I did it a lot. I watched in shocked fascination as he Pulled his shorts down and his cock sprang up free of the cloth: it was the first adult, erect penis I had ever seen, and it is imprinted on my mind still. I now know it was just average size, but it looked huge to me, and angry and red with its beautiful purple helmet.

'You too, Pascal?'

I was frozen, but swivelled the chair round clear of the desk and without thinking I lifted my bum while he pulled my shorts and underpants down together, round my ankles. I was even more amazed when he knelt in front of me, this big, macho man kneeling to slender slip of a lad, and fantastic! he slipped his lips around my knob. I started in surprise, but the pleasure of his mouth and tongue on my shaft was immediate and intense. This was better than masturbation. I was nearly giddy with the excitement and the delight of that first experience. I leaned back in the chair, but in a moment or two realised I was holding his head, fingers in his wavy blonde hair as he sucked and licked, his hands cradling and stroking my hairless balls, pulling gently at the skin of my tight sack. Of course, thirteen years old, I started to cum almost immediately and tried to pull away, but now his strong hands held me in place while he sucked, my hips jerked, and I spurted spunk into his mouth in one of the most intense orgasms I have ever, and I mean ever, experienced.

'That was... was so....'

'Better than wanking, eh?'

'Oh yes! It was wonderful...'

'What about me, then, Pascal?'

I knew what I wanted to do and amazed myself as I heard myself reply, almost unthinking.

'Can I suck you, Dieter? Please. I'd so like too.'

'Of course. I'll sit in the chair and you suck....' 

The only other places I had knelt had been by my bed when my grandmother insisted I said my prayers as a very little boy and more recently when the family went to a weddding or a funeral in the village church. But it was with something rather like religious awe that I knelt between his open legs and let his knob touch my cheek a second before licking the eye at the front of it, where a tiny drop of precum had gathered. I heard him moan, much as I had, as my tongue touched him, and another groan of pleasure as I opend my mouth as wide as I could and took his knob between my lips. Now it was his hands holding my head as I gradually allowed his shaft to fill my mouth, deeper and deeper till it touched my throat, and I gagged of course. I closed my hand around it, though it was too broad for my fingers to meet, but that would be enough to stop it before it made me gag again. And so I sucked at it, bobbing up and down, and especially feeling the weight of his balls in my cupped hand, playing with the fur there and at the base of his belly.

'See if you can swallow when I cum!'

I would have liked to have told him that I wanted more than anything to have his cum in my mouth, but that would have meant taking the cock from my mouth. I sucked on, and remembered how good it had been when he pulled at the skin of my balls sack. I did that, heard him groan again, felt his legs become tense for a moment, and then my mouth was filled with the man-juice. I gulped it down, swallowed again as he spurted again: it was too much and dribbled down my chin, but still I sucked and swallowed the warm, silky-smooth cum. Finally he stopped squirting and I let his cock, still lovely and hard, still twitching, rest in my mouth while I stroked his thighs.

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

During the week I still used my press-cuttings of athletes in spedos to jerk off, but it was memories of his naked, muscular body, and especially the veins on his angry red cock that accompanied my frequent climaxes. I abstained from Thursday on to make sure I had a lot of cum for Saturday morning. The result was for two days I walked about with a constant hard-on, mind full of images of men and cocks, mentally stripping every boy I met, and especially the young men of the village.

Saturday came at last, and it was up the hill again for me, heart beating and that tight feeling in my chest that I still get when about to meet a lover. I had nearly got to his gate, twenty minutes early, when his yellow Porsche drew up beside me.

'See you in the house in a moment or two!' He blew me a kiss and was off leaving me with the memory of his wide smile and perfect white teeth. He was so handsome, I thought. Still do!

Now I had cleared up all the back-log of correspondance I was finished in about an hour,and to kill time surfed the net: his laptop was much faster than mine, and in any case my father had installed software so I could not get at any porn on it. This was easy though, and I was soon looking at pics and videos of gay sex. I was so deeply into it that I did not notice Dieter standing behind me.

'That's a nice one!' I started, and instinctively cleared the screen which had been filled with a colour pic of a guy fucking a much younger man in his arse. He reached over me and I felt his cock press against my shoulder: he was in a shiny light cotton or perhaps wild silk dresing gown so there was little between my t-shirt and his cock. 'No need to do that. Let's get it back.' He clicked the back tab, and there was that fascinating, sexy, frightening image again. 'You know, I was younger than you when I first had love made to me, properly, like that.'

I was silent, enjoying the feel of his body pressing against me, his hand on my shoulder now, the excitement of his words, half-fearful, half-willing him to take me as a lover as the man was taking the boy on the screen.

'Not much younger, but I was only just thirteen. It was a teacher at school: he was a big guy, but kind and gentle. I was lucky, and I think I really loved him finally.'

'Big and gentle like you, Dieter.'

'And I was young and handsome like you, Pascal.'

'Did it hurt> It looks like it would.'

'First time yes, for a bit. But then it was ok. And when I got used to it I really loved it. Couldn't get enough.' He was gently massaging my shoulder muscles with both hands, and his cock was still pressing.

'In your bottom? Jeez!'

'Shall we try, Pascal. In my bedroom?'

'You'll not hurt me.'

'Only a bit. And I promise it gets better and better.'

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

It was only later I noticed his bedroom as at the time I had other things on my mind!

It took Dieter only second to strip naked: after all he was wearing a dressing gown and all he had to do was pull at the knotted belt, open the silk, and let it fall to the carpet. I had scarcely kicked my shoes off and was removing my socks when I was confronted by his amazingly masculine nudity. His cock was as I had remembered it in all my nightly solitary sex, but seemed even larger now he was completely naked. It was exciting all right, but also frightening in the thought that I was to take it up my little bottom-hole into which nothing larger than my grandmother's thermometer had ever penetrated!

He did not wait for me to undress, but had me in his arms immediately, and I felt my cock stiffen again: it had gone soft with my sudden fright and apprehension. But my heart wwas beating, and I was so pleased when I felt his fingers at my belt, unlinking it, unzipping my shorts, and letting them fall to my feet. He was crouching a bit to bring his face level with mine to kiss me so it was easy for me to grasp his throbbing, hot cock between us. His hand found the gap at the front of my white cotton underpants, and slipped inside. Now he was holding my cock just as I was holding his.

He lifted me up and carried me the two paces to his bed, a four-poster, and laid me on it, as carefully as if I had been porcelain, then standing over me and pulling at the waistband of my pants. I lifted my arse, and heard his exclamation as my hard cock was revealed to him, and my balls, tight inside my hairless sack. His hands now up beneath my t-shirt, first feeling for my nipples, and then roughly pulling it off, up and over my head. I lay there naked, quivering almost with that mixture of lustful anticipation, frightened trepidation, and just a tinge of guilt at contemplating an act so sinful as to be completely forbidden. Every boy seduced by an older man, or even an older boy at school, will surely recognise that odd amalgam of terror and desire that every guy I have discussed it with seems to have experienced. Of course this is the sort of discussion you only really have between the sheets!

'I want you so much, Pascal.'

'I have wanted you too, Dieter, All week I've imagined what it will be like. Please be gentle... or at least careful.'

I had heard stories in the school playground about monster cocks cutting new holes in the boy's arse, of blood, of severe wounds, hospitalisation and resulting scandal and although I was almost sure this was just exaggeration... well you never know. And yet my little cock was standing, and I knew I was made for this act: why else had I been made beautiful? Why else if not to pleasure men? Since Dieter had told me I was pretty and desirable I had taken more notice of men's attention and had soon learned to recognise the difference between an idle glance and the more prolonged, meaningful look that said quite clearly that the guy desired my body. He might look away in embarassment when I met his eye, but the meaning was already clear. Back then I was often hard, like all teenage boys, and had become sensitised to those admiring glances. I might only have been thirteen and a bit scared but deep inside me I wanted to give myself to Dieter....

'I'll be careful, Pascal: I remember my first time so well, and I want you to like it as much as I did finally. Now kneel down for me and I'll get your pussy ready for it.'

I had never heard the word pussy used for a boy's bottom, though it was heard all the time where boys boasted about girls. I liked the idea that i had a pussy too!

He knelt behind me and I felt his slippery fingers in my arse crease, and then an oily finger slipping into my anus. This was all right, and even quite pleasant as he poked around inside me, slipping that finger in and out. My face was buried in the pillow, and I could almost have dropped off to sleep under the massage. Then I felt fuller, and realised he must have two fingers up me. I asked him and he said yes, he had.

'Is that ok?'

'It's quite nice, really.'

'You're nicely relaxed. Now I'll oil my cock. This baby oil is lovely and slippery. Nice for both of us.'

I looked over my shoulder, and a shiver went through my body as I saw his cock gleaming with oil, so erect now that the cock-head nearly touched his hairy navel. I felt my cock twitch, and slid a hand down to hold it while I buried my head in the pillow again. It was slippery too, from the oil dripped into my buttock-crease, and my hand slid nicely up and down it a few times. not long now!

I felt the mattress move as Dieter knelt behind me, and then his hands on my bottom: they were oily and slipped, but he managed to hold the cheeks apart. I heard his murmur of pleasure as he looked at my anus for a moment, and then felt the pressure of his knob against my secret rose. This was nice, and I remember wriggling my hips. He laughed softly, and then pushed. The pain was sudden, but with my face deep in the down pillow I did not cry out. I must have spasmed and gripped the helmet of his cock with my sphincter muscle because he paused a moment. Then as the spasm passed he slid it easily in until his hairy thighs rested on my smooth bottom and I knew that, almost incredibly, he was deeply in me, the whole length of his cock.

It still hurt, but less than that first moment. And I realised he was moving it slowly in and out. I remember thinking "I'm being fucked. I'm being properly fucked." Despite the pain.... more like discomfort than pain in fact.... I was still hard, and I was jerking myself in the same slow rhythm of his fuck. He was stroking my bottom gently, and also my back and shoulders, and whispering softly. I can't remember what he was saying, except that it showed this was really delightful for him. And it was ok for me now, not exactly pleasure, but certainly not pain any more. I thoght to myself that probably the pleasure would come later when I was really used to proper sex with a man, and in any case I was proud not to have cried out, and pleased that my new lover was experiencing ecstasy!.

Later fucks would last much longer, but Dieter came in about five minutes. I had wondered if I would feel the hot spurts of cum in my boy-pussy, but I did not, and it was only by the speed-up of his thrusts and the lovely comments he was making as he grasped my buttocks and really shagged me hard that I knew he was coming. Then the thrusts slowed down and I imagined his cum spurting with each deep push, until finally he was finished, and still.

'That was lovely, Pascal. wondeful. I didn't hurt you too much, I hope.'

My arse expelled his cock as I told him it had been nice finally, towards the end.

He turned me over and held my cock, still hard. 'Then you haven't been put off?'

'No. I think it will get better with practise like you said.'

'Good!'

He bent over me and I held his head between my oily palms as he sucked me off. It did not take long and he swallowed as usual.
 
                                                        .............................................................

I was on time the next Saturday and he kissed me as I arrived, but I went to work at the computer station immediately. I had the hang of it, and there had been less correspondance and less sales (I had worked out that Dieter was selling something on-line and still imagined it was software of some sort.

'I've finished Dieter.'

He was wearing a red silk dressing gown this time and looked dead sexy! He was also holding a glossy magazine.

'Have you got somewhere you can hide things in your room at home.'

'Sure!' I thought of my wanker's bible, the book of pictures of men and girls hidden behind the wardrobe.

'I thought you might like this, I mean to make you night-time masturbation more enjoyable. The cover showed a man kissing a boy, both naked. The book was in some foreign language, but who cared. I took it gladly.

'And there's something you could do for me, Pascal, to make my solo sessions better. Can I take some photos of you so I can remember what you are like when you are not there?'

Of course!'

We went into his main room, and he had me undress slowly while his camera flashed and he paced wuickly round getting new angles. When I was down to my brilliant white, tight underpants He came for some real close-ups: my cock was hard and outined through the thin cotton. I slipped my hand down the waistband and gripped it, and he took several shots of that!. Now I slowly pulled them down and his camera clicked as my little cock sprang free.

It was fun doing all sorts of cheesecake poses for him as the flashes went off. He must have taken dozens, including close-ups of my willy from all sorts of angles, including upwards from between my legs! When he seemed to be slowing down I looked cheekily over my shoulder. 'I can see you're lovely and hard, Dieter, even through your shorts, Are you going to take me to bed and fuck me like last week?'

'Do you want me to, Pascal.' I'm sure he was zooming in on my face as I smiled and replied.

'I'd like to try it again. It was just starting to feel good.'

'Bend over and show me your bum.'

I did so and the camera flashed a few more times.

'Now spread your cheeks so I can see your tight little hole, sweetie.'

He had never called me that before, and I liked it! I spread my buttocks with both hands and he took a lot more shots from different angles.

'Finger  yourself a bit for me, Pascal. Here, use some baby oil. You can get yourself ready for me.'

He photographed as I bent over with one and then two fingers up my bum. 

Lovely.....now lay down on your side and jerk yourself with one hand, and the other in your bottom....'

He was capering around like a mad thing taking pics from every angle.

'I'm going to cum if I don't stop.'

'Don't stop. I'd love to have some shots of you coming. we'll soon get you hard again in the bedroom.

I was very excited, and my cum spurted several feet, most of it landing on my shoulder and chest though. He was taking zoom close-iups of the white goo on my tanned skin, and then he put the camera down and to my astonishment licked it all off me before laying beside me and kissing me on my lips. I could taste my cum there!

Bed a few minutes later was better than the week before as apart from the first moment of penetration there was no discomfort, and although my cock went hard almost immediately and I was jerking myself while he fucked me doggy-fashion I was nowhere near coming again: that was the day I learned that it is better to journey than to arrive! After he came he sucked me off, and then I did come as he was very skilled. (I didn't know that then, but later learned I had been lucky in my choice of first lover.... he was a good fucker and a marvellous sucker).

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


All that week I was feeling especially horny and was jerking off at least three times each day either looking at the photos in the magazine or remembering the fun on Dieter's bed. The series of photos of a boy taking it from two big beefy guys, one in the bottom and one in the mouth, got me hard every time I looked at them or even thought about it. I practised with the douche Dieter had given me and shown me how to use, and did it so often I must have had the cleanest little-boy-pussy in the whole of France! On Monday after school I found an old chair leg in the barn and smoothed the end so it made a great dildo. Now I could wank while shagging myself in the arse: I found olive oil was a good lubricant and kept the mahogany nice and slick.

I made sure I did not cum all Thursday night, all day Friday, and Friday night so I would have a real big load of cum for Dieter to taste!

As you would guess it was a very horny little Pascal who arrived at Dieter's house exactly on time Saturday morning. I managed to finish my work in less than an hour, though there was more correspondance and more sales than before: I was sure now that Dieter was selling on-line, though the merchandise was never mentioned. I called out 'Finished' and he came in, naked today. I thought he looked magnificent, though his cock was not hard. Mine stiffened immediately.

'I thought you might like to see my pool today.'

It was a proper pool,at least as big as the one in the village I used quite a lot, and when I saw the blown-up air-bed on the mosaic tiles I knew we would be enjoying some sex in the sun today.

It will not surprise you and it did not surprise me that Dieter wanted some more pics! He had left the camera out by the pool ready for us... The session started like the first one with me undressing slowly, showing my naked bum and cock (already stiff), and taking up various poses. I enjoyed this, found it sexy to be the object of all this attention, and loved the effect I was having on Dieter as he jumped around clicking his camera: he was nice and hard too. This was going to be even more fun soon!

'Can you swim, Pascal?'

'I'm in the high school juniors water-polo team. I'm good.' I turned to look at the pool and heard the camera again as he took more pics of me from behind.

'I'd like some shots of you getting ready to dive, as if in a race, arms back and bending over a bit. Yes, like that, lovely! Then you diving in, swim a couple of lengths, haul yourself out, and lay on the sunbed.'

I did all that for him and guessed that I must have looked dead sexy naked with my bum sticking out and my arms behind me for a sprint start. Anyway, I swam up the pool and back, and pulled myself out: the shots of me from the front as I did that must have shown a shrunken little cock as the water was still quite cold! I lay down on the air-bed, and still he took photos as the sun dried me and warmed me up. My cock began to stiffen again and I did the same as the week before, jerking off with a couple of fingers up my bottom. When I was really on the edge of a great big orgasm he put the camera down and knelt over me. There was just time for him to get his mouth on my cock before I came: it had been a good idea not to jerk off for a couple of days as this time I'm sure I squirted three times and not my usual one-and-an-ooze, and he was swallowing franticly. Moments later his mouth was on mine and we were kissing: he was a bit heavy but it felt good with my arms around him and my hands on his cute  hard-muscled bottom and back warmed by the sun.

This was the first time I had been fucked "missionary position" with him on top, and I loved it, with my legs over his shoulder and him incredibly deep in me. He came too quick! But it was good to see the excitement and finally passion in his face as he took me.

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

The next Wednesday afternoon the school bus dropped me off in the village square as usual, and I was astounded to see Dieter and my father sitting outside the Cafe des Sports chatting together: there were some empty glasses and it looked as if they were getting on well. Dieter saw me and called me over.

'I've been telling Victor how useful you are to me, looking after all my business admin.'

They were on christian name terms already!

'I'm glad I'm useful, Mr Falkenheim.'

'You certainly are, Pascal. And I was saying how useful it would be to have you along at some business meetings with the laptop to take some notes when asked...'

My heart leaped. He was clever this Dieter, if a bit devious! I looked at my father for guidance, or pretended to!

'Go for it boy! It's all good experience and you're lucky!'

Innocent old Dad had no idea how lucky I actually was!

'I will of course pay you the same rate for the travel time and the meeting....'

'I'd like to do that!'

'Then after you do my books next Saturday morning, we'll drive to Strasbourg for a meeting with a couple of guys. Great.'

I refused the offer of a coke and left the two of them, my father and my fucker, to chat about football and local politics.

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

Dieter's business seemed to be growing and it took me well over an hour to sort it all out the next Saturday, but then it was into the Porsche and on the road to the City: he was not a fast driver despite the fast car and I enjoyed the summer woods as we negotiated the twisting road! In a Porsche it's almost as if you're laying down and I kept looking at Dieter beside me as he continually changed gear on the hairpin corners. He had a lovely bulge where his trousers were tight as he sat in them and I would have loved to have felt it, even leaned over and sucked him as he drove. I did not though! At last we pulled into a private parking space outside a shop called Guggenheim Studio: a photographer's!

Monsieur Guggenheim was introduced to me as "Thierry", and we were soon joined by a younger guy called "Yvgeny". He had very little German and no French and apparently was Ukranian. Yet another blonde, he was very good looking with a conventionally handsome face and under his casual clothes I guessed a body at least as good as the athletes I cut out of papers and used to wank over before that magazine brought me closer to the real thing! I fancied him immediately, which was lucky as the "business meeting" would involve him having sex with me. My body was beginning to respond with all the urgency  of a teenage cock reacting to the slightest stimulus. I was no longer embarrased by this and I was sure the men noticed. Good!

The three of them had a brief discussion leaning on the shop counter while I listened, Thierry translating into Russian for Yvgeny. Listening I found that Dieter was to pay five hundred euros to Yvgeny and eight hundred to Thierry. they all shook hands and we went into the back of the shop, which was set up as a studio. Thierry switched very bright lights on, and they were focussed on a huge low bed covered in a pastel blue sheet.

Yvgeny held my hand and led me over to it:  Dieter had already started taking photos on his hand-held camera while Thierry had a much larger one that must have been taking video.

Yvgeny held me in his arms and kissed me, and as I felt his cock harden against me, and my own cock completely stiffen too I forgot all about the cameras and the watchers. He soon had his hand up under my t-shirt and was stroking my chest and tweaking my nipples: I love that and felt it gave me license to slide my own hand up his shirt expecting to find a matt of hair. But his chest was completely hairless, which I found exciting as it reminded me of some of the male models in my wank-book. I felt downwards over a hard, muscular belly and that was hairless too. I wondered if he had removed the hair around his balls and artse as well. Now that would be something. I was soon to find out.....I played with his nipples as we kissed, and then he pulled my shirt up over my head, and threw it on the floor. His followed, and I saw he had indeed an athlete's body, big-built and strongly muscled, his chest tanned and smooth, hairless, and with tiny, hard nipples crowning his pecs. I thought he was beautiful and so very sexy and made to kiss him again.

This time it was with open-mouths and very wet, with tongues touching and penetrating mouths. He pulled at my belt and loosened the buckle so he could slip his hand down the waistband, and I felt him grasping my cock through my cotton underpants. I couldn't work his belt out, but managed to unzip and slide my hand inside: he was naked under his trousers and I found a lovely hot, throbbing cock that felt so large. Both photographers were eager to get pics and film of my hand inside his flies! I held his cock and then cradled his balls, tight in their sack and I did believe hairless! Yvgeny now held me at arm's length looking at me, and then he kicked off his shoes and let his trousers fall to his ankles, stepping out of them. He looked great: he had no body hair on his belly or round his cock and balls either. His cock seemed all the larger shaved, and he had a steel cock ring that made his balls stretched and shiny, standing out from his body like that hard, veiny cock with its almost purple helmet. 

He was the man of my nightly dreams, and I wanted him so badly, wanted to give myself to him, was in a hurry to worship him with my mouth and little boy pussy. I would be the altar for his worship! I kicked my shoes off and pulled my trousers and white underpants off together, standing there now naked, my little cock pointing at the object of its desire.. We looked at each other a moment and then were kissing naked.

I could feel both his hands on my bottom, and as he pulled the cheeks apart there was a flurry of activity from Dieter and Thierry. He pressed me closer to him, strong hands pulling at my bottom, and I could feel his thumbs right into my arse-crease, nearly touching the target I now knew men aimed at: little-boy anus!

Thierry said something in Russian and my athlete picked me up as if I was a feather and held me off the ground, cradled, while he kissed me before placing me on the bed and laying beside me.  

Now the real session began with Dieter capturing all our action with still photographs... no flashes because of the powerful lights..... and Thierry moving around with his video camera getting all the different angles and views.

The sex was passionate but not hurried, with Thierry telling my partner when to move to another stage... at least I assume that was what the occasional terse Russian was.

We started off by kissing and caressing but very soon his mouth was on my cock sucking at the helmet and letting the whole shaft sink into his mouth. He would do this for a few moments and then lick and suck at my balls, nibbling the sack gently and pulling at it with his teeth and lips. Then back to my cock again. He was murmuring something but I could not understand, but his mouth told me he was enjoying me, and his hands stroking my belly and chest. I was fascinated by his cock of course, but most of all by his big, shiny balls. I had seen cock rings on internet porn and always wanted to play with a real cock and balls with a cock ring. After a bit I moved on the bed so I could lick and suck at his balls, and of course get his cock in my mouth. He was too tall and me too short for us to sixty nine.

Then Thierry said something: it must have been after about ten minutes of lovely oral fun, and Yvgeny turned me over on my belly. I lay there enjoying the attention while he fondled my arse cheeks and kissed me all up and down my back and bottom. He slipped a hand under me, but not to get at my cock: rather he lifted me so that I was kneeling. I guessed what this would mean! But not yet, as he spread my cheeks (more close-up activity from both photographers), and I felt his bristly chin between them, and then his tongue on my anus. i love being rimmed (Dieter says every male likes that and especially ones who have learned to enjoy being fucked.) Well, I had learned to enjoy a cock up inside me, and certainly his tongue licking round and round and penetrating in and out was getting me in the mood for something bigger, large though his cock was!  I wriggled and wiggled my arse, and when I saw the video a long time later I could see a little boy on heat for a shagging!

The condoms and lube were in a green pottery bowl on a side table and I looked over my shoulder watching as Yvgeny opened the foil and stretched the latex over his knob before rolling it down the shaft. I studied this with interest as I had never seen it done: the videos and pics I had watched were not into safe sex, and Dieter never used one with me. I wanted to know how it was done and promised myself that next time I was shagged by someone other than my Saturday lover I would put the condom on him myself: it looked fun! I thought the cock looked very sexy and especially when it glistened with lube.  Then it was his oily fingers on my anus and penetrating my bottom, getting me ready to receive his cock.

He was good! He entered me slowly and powerfully, and I felt the usual moment of discomfort before my bottom relaxed and I accepted his full length. He felt bigger than Dieter and my bottom was very full, but it was good as well. He had his hands on my hips, holding me in place as he thrust, pulled back, and thrust again. Thierry gave an instruction, and he took his hands off my hips, fucking me now "no hands". I realised that his arms must have got in the way of the camera and video shots of his cock sliding in and out of my bottom. There was another comment from Thierry and Yvgeny speeded up, shagging me violently now: I felt his hand up and under me, grasping my hard cock. Thierry was laying on the bed videoing him from underneath getting my cock and balls in shot as well as that domineering cock. When Thierry moved back again Dieter took over with some up-shots on the still camera.

I think he was fucking me for about ten minutes, caressing me and sometimes kissing me too as I turned my head over my shoulder. Then he pulled out and rather roughly turned me over. When I saw the video I was surprised to see my arse-hole was now gaping wide open! Any way, he turned me on my back and lifted my legs trapping one under each arm. Bent like this my arse was wide open for him and, no hands, he shoved his cock in again. Now he fucked me really hard and fast, and I watched his face redden and his eyes bulge as he got more and more excited. I was able to jerk at my cock in this position as it stood between our two bodies, clear of both of them. After about ten minutes he said something quite loud in Russian and I heard Thierry say "ok". It must have been that it was ok for him to cum because he went at me even harder and I knew that the final six thrusts were each accompanied by a spurt of hot cum deep inside me. This was so exciting that I came myself, splashing my own cum in a streamer up my belly over my chest and onto my face. My second spurt was just on my belly. the photographers got both of them on film!

Yvgeny let his cock rest throbbing in me for a minute or two and I saw his face go back from the twisted, almost angry expression as he came, to his normal cheerful and handsome smile. He pulled out, and licked up the cum from my belly and chest: there was still cum in his mouth and I tasted it when we kissed. Cum dribbled out of my bottom onto my thigh, and that was filmed too.

And that was the end of the session. Yvgeny and I dressed again, and in the shop Dieter paid Thierry and the Ukranian in green hundred euro notes.

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

I was silent on the road back, thinking hard. At some roadworks where we were held up by trafic lights I decided to speak.

'I know how you earn your money, Dieter. I know what all those emails I file every week are about. It's not software, is it?'

The lights changed to green and we pulled away.

'There's a lay-bye around that corner, Dieter. Pull over please. I haven't finished yet.'

He pulled into the roadside cutting and cut the engine.

'You sell photos, don't you. Sets of photos you send out by email.'

He was silent, embarrassed, but nodded.

'I think you should have told me, trusted me.'

'I was worried I would scare you away, Pascal, and I wanted you so much. I think I'm in love...'

'You told me you wanted the photos to jerk off with when I wasn't there, and all the time you were selling them!' I was quite indignant, angry even as I worked myself up.

'I used them for that every night and morning, Pascal. I'm obsessed by you, and I'm so sorry I didn't trust you. I wasn't being mean, I was just scared of losing you.believe me.'

There were tears in his eyes....the first man who ever loved me. I did believe him.

'Look, I'll make you a partner. You've got a bank account. When we get back I'll transfer the money I should have given you. That's five hundred euros for each of the first two shoots, and fifteen hundred for today, that's five hundred for the stills and a thousand for the video. You're a huge hit all round the world with men clamouring for more and more pictures of you.'

Being paid did not sound like being a "partner" to me, but it sounded good, and I could see he meant it when he said he loved me, so I leaned over and kissed him.

'Fuck me on my back when we get home, like Yvgeny did. I want to watch you as you come. I gave his cock a little squeeze of friendship as we pulled back into the road.

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


All that summer we fucked, he took photos and my bank account swelled! And I really was a partner, with a percentage of each sale being paid to me. Business was booming, and I reckon by the end of the summer there were five or six times as many files for me to sort each Saturday. We also had photo sessions with Thierry and quite a number of different "actors", so many that I can't now remember them all.

One or two stand out, though, including the English scoutmaster. 

Dieter was interested in boy scouts as he found them especially sexy: apparently he had several sets of photos in his sales catalogue though all of them had been purchased from other porn suppliers. (A lot of bartering and exchange went on among owners of porn supply sites). He had always fancied having a real boy scout himself!

I admitted that I had been a scout, but had packed it in last summer.... I still had the uniform.

'It will be a bit tight now.'

'All the better!'

So he fucked me in my uniform over a bench on his patio with my khaki shorts down around my ankles. It was one of the best and most vigorous seeing-tos he ever gave me! My "boy's place" as we called my prostate, had been learning to enjoy being massages, better still pummelled by a cock, and I was now really NEEDING cock in my arse. As usual being fucked was enough to make me cum even if neither I nor my sex-partner masturbated me.

After he had cum he said that a lot of guys would pay to have film and pics of a boy scout being seduced by a scoutmaster, and one of his clients was indeed a scouter and had already offered good money to be filmed with me in scouting uniform. And it was good money!

'Why not then?'

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

Harold Barraclough was an Englishman of a faintly military appearance. His moustache was grey as was his clipped short hair, and he had a rather stern look about him. But he was tall and had only a very slight pot-belly as far as one could see in his tweeds. I was already in my shorts and shirt with that silly cravat thing, but he went out the back to change into his. I nearly laughed when he emerged with nobbly knees and a funny Australian type hat. I didn't laugh of course. Thierry arrived soon after with his large video camera.

The film started with the two of us walking apparently through a forest: in fact it was a patch of woodland enclosed by the fence round Dieter's property.... very private and discrete.  Harold was pretending to point things out to me as we walked, the cameras taking close-ups of his hands on my bare arms, sometimes his arm round my shoulder, and once the naughty man having a grope at my bottom through my thin shorts. I could see he was hard, bulging nicely through his shorts, and my cock was at least half-hard in anticipation.

Finally we came to a clearing, where the bright sun had dried some lush long grass on a small bank. This was where the innocent young boy-scout's seduction would take place. Harold and I sat down, and I stretched out enjoying the heat of the sun. As we had walked together I found he spoke a little French, but what followed was mostly in silence. 

He moved closer to me so our thighs were touching as we lay on our backs. I closed my eyes, entering into the spirit of the filming, and felt his hand rest lightly on my knee. I felt it move gently up my thigh till it was creeping under the hem of my shorts. Higher still on my thigh and resting there, but then stroking gently. Still feigning sleep I nestled closer to him, and his hand went further up the leg of my shorts until it encountered the cotton of my tight underpants. I felt him squeeze my balls gently and then he was stroking the front of my cock.

I pretended to wake up and look at him in surprise, half sitting up before laying down again. Since I made no protest he slid his hand inside my underpants and was holding the naked flesh of my hard cock. He took my hand in his free hand and placed it over the bulge in his shorts: I grasped him through the cotton. He murmured something inaudible and was unzipping and taking his cock out. I was not disappointed as it was a nice broad one which looked as if had seen long and good service, with standing veins and a lovely red helmet, cut. I held it tight in my little hand and rolled even closer to him, laying on my side.

Now he kissed me, a long wet open-mouthed kiss.

I became aware for a second of Thierry and Dieter as they took close-ups of our crotches and our mouths in embrace, but Harold soon distracted me again, pulling at my belt buckle and slipping my shorts and pants down in one easy gesture: I helped him by raising myself from the grass a bit. Now my shirt, and I was naked except for trainers and socks. It was as if he had not had sex for months, as he was all over me, licking my nipples, squeezing my buttocks, stroking my belly, combing my fine pubic fringe with his fingers, pulling gently at my balls, giving my cock a couple of rubs, caressing me, kissing me, and finally fastening his mouth on my cock. As ever I luxuriated in the feel of a warm wet mouth on my shaft. I wanted to play with his body too, and managed to undo his belt. He was naked beneath his shorts, as I had suspected from the clear shape of his bulge earlier, and I could enjoy his hairy balls and firm belly as well as that battered but so-masculine cock. He stopped sucking me for long enough to pull his shorts down completely and kick them away, and was about to return to my little willy but I whispered that i wanted to see him naked too, and he quickly undid that cravat and pulled the shirt up over his head. It joined our clothes in a heap on the grass, and he was again leaning over me, looking at my cock for a moment, handling it with an almost reverent air, and finally plunging it back between his lips.

I could reach his chest and nipples as we lay together and was rewarded with even more energetic sucking as I ran my fingers through his greying chest hair and tweaked his nipples. Each time I rolled one between finger and thumb he gave an especially hard suck.

After a bit I pushed him away, and answered the enquiring, almost protesting look in his eye by showing him what I too wanted, by kissing the knob of his cock, letting the little pool of clear precum in its eye stick to my lip. I licked my lips, tasted the precum, and wanted more: his knob was almost too big for my mouth, but I managed to get around it and swallowed about half the shaft before in touched my throat and I gagged. Since I have managed to suppress the gagging-reflex, but in those early days I needed to have my fist around the base of any adult cock to limit its penetration if I was to really enjoy a suck. So I gave him my best blow-job without deep-throating, fluttering my tongue along the front of it as I bobbed up and down. His turn now to lay on his back and enjoy!

And I was certainly milking precum out of it!

Finally he too pushed me away, and I was excited to see him reach for a condom in his shorts pocket. I recognised immediately the blue foil as he used his teeth to open it. He made a better job of putting it on than the first guy I had seen do it, and his cock looked especially sexy under the shining rubber! It soon glistened more as he greased it up.

He had enough French to tell me he wanted me kneeling....I guess men into sex with boys learn those few words in a lot of languages! As I spread my arse-cheeks and he rubbed lube into my crack both photographers were in close-up mode again!

They always put a musical soundtrack on the porn videos, but a few, genuinely unscripted words help sell the dvd! So neither Dieter nor Thierry will have minded my squealing and almost shouting, 'Softly, mister. You're big for me. Take it gently.'

'Sorry, boy, I got carried away. You're a dream come true.'

'It's Ok now. You can go as fast as you want.....'

But he had got into a nice slow rhythm now, long strokes and slowly out before another stroke. He was tickling up my "boy-place" nicely with each time his knob passed it, and there was a chance I would come just by this massaging of my young prostate.

'Oh, mister! That's good. Just like that. Only faster. Please. Faster.'

The good thing about older guys....if they can get it up.... is that they can last a long time. This guy must have been fit because he fucked me without stopping, mostly very fast and hard, but sometimes slowing down and giving me sensual kisses on my back, and stroking my shoulders or bottom-cheeks. Then hard and fast again. Finally I could hold out no longer and shouted, " I'm going to cum...."

Immediately the two photographers were laying on their bellies, one each side of us, cameras running to get shots of by boy's cum, and my scout-master reached beneath me for the first time to grab my cock. I spurted, and when I saw the film later I saw it as a real stream of white cum, my first almost adult sperm! Mr Barraclough got some of the cum on his hand and gleefully licked it off.

'Boy-juice! Lovely'.

But it was his undoing, as he almost immediatley came, nearly pushing me flat with the force of his final thrusts as he unloaded his balls into my well-abused bottom!

And that was that! The two guys both had the pics and video they wanted, and our scoutmaster had only paid for one fuck, I guess, so although I'm sure I could have got him hard again, and would have liked that, he was led away by Dieter, and Thierry walked with me to the pool and left me in the sun.

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

My father was now in the habit of having a glass or two of beer or wine with Dieter most afternoons after work and before before dinner: I often wondered what it would be like to be shagged by Papa, but that was unthinkable.....

Anyway, it was after one of these afternoon chats that Papa suggested to me, 'Dieter's going to a meeeting in Stasbourg on Friday afternoon, and he would like you to go with him to take notes. I said it was ok by me, and up to you. Good of him to ask me first: they are very correct these Germans!'

Correct! If only he knew! 

'He pays me, and it's easy work. I'll have to miss a couple of hours school, but you can do me a sick-note?'

'Sure! Better experience than sitting in the classroom at all events...'

Experience! Again, if only he knew! Perhaps if he did he would take me in his arms, kiss me and then.... I had never even seen his cock hard, though I'd bet he had a big one! I dismissed the incestuous vision.

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

It was not Stasbourg, but a large country hotel over the border in Germany, a huge old place with lovely gardens. 

I was dressed in my "Sunday Clothes", a nice suit, and Dieter was very elegant too, and we must have looked good as he parked his sports car and we entered the lobby. The old guy on the reception desk was expecting us. I only wore that suit for Church usually, and was not expecting this to be anything of a religious meeting. Nor that I expected to wear the suit for long, come to that!

'Wecome Herr Falkenheim: your colleagues are already here, and have booked the Bonn Suite. They have given strict instructions that once you have arrived there are to be no interruptions, and I have instructed the staff accordingly. You may be assured of complete privacy, and we pride ourselves on our discretion.'

The guy was eyeing me as he spoke, and he had such a look of longing.... more accurately lust.... that I would not be surprised if he had more than a vague idea what sort of "Discussions" were about to take place in the Bonn Suite and would not have said no to an invit! It occurred to me that this sort of hotel was really an up-market knocking shop, and you betcha those guys had their little spy-holes. Didn't worry me though: I'm used to the idea of guys wanting to look at me naked!

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

In the lift Dieter filled me in a bit more.

'There was supposed to be six guys, but one could not make it: flight delayed in London. But there are certainly five gentlemen for you, four Swedes and one German, and all randy as hell! Good customers for our pics and vids, real boy-lovers. I expect you'll have a lot of fun. They have been told it's one-at-a -time....best for your first real group work. And no filming or photos. If one of them tries to take a pic on his mobile, shout out and I'll come and stop him. They have paid for sex, not pics!'

'OK'.

As the lift doors opened we were greeted by a vision of beauty. He was probably about my age but had shoulder-length blonde hair and a peaches and cream complexion, full-lipped and sensual eyes. He was dressed to kill, too, in blue satin tight little hot-pants, so tight you could see the shape of his little cock and balls, and a sort of satin jacket that was tight across the shoulders but loose at the front so it covered nothing of his hairless, white alabaster chest and tiny pink nipples. I could have fancied him, despite my preference for adult males. He was born and groomed for sex...I could see that.

'I'm Pym. You must be Mr Falkenheim and Pascal. Welcome. The men are waiting for you, so eagerly!'

As he ushered us through the heavy door padded on the inside with red leather, I could not take my eyes of his cute little bottom, moving so sexily under those shorts. Dieter, too, was instantly hard and I could see that familiar bulge under his light-weight summer suit.

Inside in a semicircle were my five clients....

I had expected them to be in suits, like me and Dieter, but they were ready for sex, each in a calf-length jacket that looked as if it had been made with fine silk. Each had a different colour, and each had a promising tent at the front, nearly lifting the hem above what I hoped were large, free-swinging balls, just as I liked. I didn't have time to study them much as the lovely Pym immediately showed me into an adjoining room. This was almost empty except for a huge, low bed covered in a black satin sheet. There were a few pillows, also black satin, and little else. A small bedside table had a glass bowl with condoms and lube sachets in it, a roll of tissues, and a waste-paper basket beside it. Nothing else! It was clear what the sole purpose of this place would be.... and I must admit I was looking forward to it.

As Pym undressed me and stowed my suit and stuff away in a cupboard he chatted in slightly accented German.

'You're Dutch aren't you Pym?'

'It still shows? Yes. The hotel manager picked me up for sex in Amsterdam, and offered me a job here. It's good.'

'Plenty of sex then?'

'That is the job. His guests fill my mouth and my bum, and we both get well paid by them, me and Herr Blum, the Manager I mean. He has me too, of course.'

'I could fancy you, Pym: you're the prettiest I have ever seen....'

'You're lovely too, Pascal, but you need to keep up your strength for those five. I think we'll get a chance to play this afternoon later: they'll want us to put on a show together according to Herr Blum. You can fuck me then, if you've still got any spunk left. He gave my balls and cock, hard now, a quick grope, kissed me on my nose, and left the room. I lay on the bed and waited for my first lover.

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

He did not introduce himself, and was stripping off his silk chemise even as he walked to the bed, .......

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

And sadly that is where the disk ended.

But it is not quite the end of the story. I had always considered myself a hundred percent heterosexual, but as I translated the text of this short memoire I found myself getting interested in the sexual acivities iof young Pascal. More to the point I started fantasising about pretty young lads, like him, and even masturbated to these fantasies, boys often replacing the mental images of nubile young girls that had previously accompanied my solitary pleasures.

Pascal would probably be in his early twenties now, and i wondered what had become of him after all that early sexual experience, and whether Dieter Falkenheim still had his then-thriving internet business, whether he had found young boys to replace Pascal as that lad moved from sexy-boyhood into un-sexy manhood. There was enough information on the disk just about enough information for there to be a chance at least of finding the village or small town where the boy and his adult lover had lived. I had some leave due and I decided to make a trip to The Vosges to see if I could find it: Easter would be a good time for the exercise.

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

The road map had showed two possible roads leading West out of the City, each with a string of villages and small towns. I knew the one I was seeking was about an hour's drive at sensible speeds, say between thirty and fifty miles, which narrowed it quite a lot.

I had picked up a hired car at the airport, and as it was still early afternoon I decided to drive out on the northerly of the two roads.... No luck!

the next morning I tried the other one and at about mid-day I realised I had found it! There was the Cafe des Sports. Even more to the point, there was a steep, narrow road at the end of the village, winding up the steep hillside overlooking the village. Through deep, old forest with several hairpin bends, and then suddenly I came to a tall stone wall along the edge of the lane, and impressive wrought iron gates with a gravelled drive behind them. The house was out of view, and it was clear there was electronic protection on the entrance. Now I was convinced. I drove a few hundred metres further on to where I could turn the car and returned to the village, where I checked in at the the friendly-looking restaurant-pension just opposite the cafe in the little town square.  

It was still only mid-day and I had a pleasant salade nicoise in the retaurant, the only customer so early. The lady who served me was in her forties I should think, and had the local accent when speaking French: she was clearly a villager.

I explained to her that I had found some valuable property that belonged to a young man called Pascal who had probably lived in this village.... he would be in his early twenties and fair-haired. His father had been an engineer. that is all I knew about him.

'Oh! I know Pascal! In fact, that's him sitting in the sun opposite enjoying his Pernod!'

My heart leaped! I thanked her, finished my glass of white wine and crossed the road.

He really was a very handsome young man, blonde of course, tanned, athletic, and if you were into young men he would have been very, very sexy.

He looked up as I stood by his table. 

'Pascal? My name is Nelson. May I join you a moment? I think I have found something you lost a few years back....'

'Please do.'

The waiter was hovering and I ordered another glass of white wine.

I explained to him about finding the books, and about the disk, and that I had been fascinated and had translated it for my own pleasure.

'Oh my God! I am so embarassed...'

'Don't worry. I'm not a prude or puritan, and I found the story fascinating, and to be honest rather exciting! I just wish it had not stopped at the moment when you were about to meet that group of businessmen, one by one.'

Pascal laughed, but was still clearly worried. 'Yes that was quite a day, and probably for the best that I did not have time to record it before the thing got lost!'

'Well, here it is.' 

I took it from my breast pocket and handed the brown-envelope to him. He opened it, took the disk out, smiled and replaced it.

'I really am so grateful. what are you going to do with the translation?'

'Keep it for my own amusement: it really is very sexy.'

'I'd like to do more than just thank you.... You found it exciting? Does that mean you like young boys?'

'I wish! It's just too dangerous where I live.'

'Of course! But there are places in the world.'

He was silent for a moment.

'Dieter still makes videos and photo-sets and sometimes I'm in them: as the adult male nowadays not the young boy of course.  He's always the real focus of attention, but I enjoy the sessions and Dieter pays well.'

'He found a boy to replace you, I mean when you were too old for his clients?'

'Several, in fact. he has quite a hahem nowadays.'

There was a silence as I digested this fact.

'Look, would you like an afternoon with one of his boys. It's the very least I could do...?

I gulped and hesitated. Many times since reading that disk I had imagined sex with a teenage boy, and had quietly lusted after one or two beauties I had seen from afar, as it were. This was perhaps a unique opportunity. I wished I had not used my own name at the little hotel. Too late now.

'He's got a really lovely lad in the villa at the moment. Blonde. French, thirteeen, and very very sexy. Loves sex too!'

I just had to! I hesitated. A risk of years of hardship and disgrace against an afternoon of forbidden pleasures. But thirteen, blonde and loves sex. A real dilemma. I would have to refuse the offer of course.

But I heard myself saying, 'I'd like that, Pascal.'

'Don't go. I've a call to make. there's no signal this side of the road.'

He crossed and stood in front of the pension with his mobile. I knew that he just did not want me to hear the call, but OK. He was soon back.

'That's all fixed up! You're to meet Yves at Dieter's place three o'clock this afternoon. Dieter's away, but Yves will be by the pool behind the house. Let me draw you directions to get there.....

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

I took a hundred milligram viagra pill at two o'clock. this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and I intended to make the most of it!

Five to three I was outside those grandiose double gates, and the little card Pascal lent me opened them. I parked as instructed outside the main doors, and walked over the crunchygravel to the side of the house, through a rose-arched path where the air was heavy with perfume. I emerged from the shade into bright sunlight and there was the pool I knew so well from the disk. The sight stopped me dead in my tracks, not the pool, though that was attractive enough, not the luxuriant, almost mediterranean or tropical plants that grew about the white marble surround. No it was the lithe form laying stretched out on a yellow blow-up mattress beside the blue water of the pool. It was a boy, and what a boy! I stood silent about twenty feet away looking at him, taking in the uniform deep golden sun-tan, blonde cropped hair, slender arms and long legs, flawless back, but above all the cutest little bottom you ever saw. This was a shapelier butt than any I had secretly admired on the beach at home, two perfect, rounded buns the same uniform tan as back and shoulders, or perhaps just a little bit lighter. My cock stirred into life as I realised for the first time, really, that I would be enjoying that body within a few minutes.

Who needs viagra? I thought. 

He did not stir as I approached him, my sandals nearly silent on the marble slabs. But he must have heard me as without moving at all he murmured, 'You must be Pascal's friend....' He spoke French, but without the local accent.

'Yes, I'm Roger, Yves.'

He turned over and the delights of his body were re-doubled. My eyes flitted from his wide smile, perfect teeth and full-sensuous lips, back to the treasures of his little-boy cock and balls. He had just started to get a pubic fleece, a triangle of fine golden-blonde hair at the base of that sun-tanned, firm little belly. He took his sun-glasses off and his eyes were a deep, piercing blue. My cock was really stiff now, and made a goodly tent in my white shorts.

'Yes,I'm Yves. I'm here to give you pleasure this afternoon.' Again that cheeky, boyish smile.

'You've already given me pleasure Yves....you are very, very handsome. And I hope I can give you pleasure too....'

'I'm sure you can, and a good way to start would be to take off those shorts and shirt...'

I obliiged, of course, and was naked in a couple of moments. My cock was really hard now, a steel rod tight up against my belly. I visit the gym three or four times a week, and have a good body, and certainly have no qualms about being seen shirtless.... or indeed shirtless and shortless.

'Oh yes! Looking at you I'm sure you can give me immense pleasure, Roger. But I'm hot from sun-bathing. Join me in the pool.....careful as you dive in: it's shallow this end.'

As he ran lightly to the very edge, his cocklet which had got nicely hard as I stripped, waved in front of him charmingly. I guessed it would be about four inches long, a nice mouthful! I saw him dive in, and followed immediately.

He was fast doing the two laps, faster than me, and when I got back to the start he was already sitting on the edge. He reached a hand down to pull me from the water too, and just when I was almost out laughed and deliberately piched forward so we both fell back in with a great splash.

I came up spluttering and laughing too, and also very aware that this sexy lad was now in my arms, legs entangled with mine, young body pressed against me as we stood in the water. It only came up to mid-thigh on me here and my cock was still standing: the water was nearly at blood heat and scarcely a shock at all. For a second or two I held him against me and could feel that little cock pressing on me. 

His head was resting on my chest, I could feel his tongue licking the fine hair around my nipples and the His lips closed around a nipple and he nibbled. a shock ran through my body: no-one had ever stimulated me here, an erogenous zone I did not even know I had. I squeaked. He laughed. 'I'm glad you're not too hairy, Roger. it makes a change for me to have a man who is still smooth. Hairy where it matters though, and as he giggled again I felt his hand on my cock.

Then he slipped from my grasp, squatted, arms around my waist and palms on my butt, his lips on my balls nibbling there just as he had on my nipple. I groaned as he slipped the cock-head into his mouth, closing his lips about a couple of inches down the shaft. As he slowly slid the full length down into his throat I wondered for a second how he managed that without gagging, but said nothing as I squeaked again. this time it was because as he swallowed my cock he penetrated my anus with his finger, slipping it up me exaclty as my cock penetrated his mouth. I was about to protest when it began to feel good. Strange, but undeniably good as he bobbed up and down on my cock and was massaging me somewhere inside my rectum. This must be the prostate massage I'd read about but never expeienced. Well, Pascal had said he was good at sex, and that was true!

I was sure he had a second finger up me now, and that was even better. I would come. I was about to draw away when it was suddenly too late, and the orgasm built in my bum, my balls and my cock until I filled his mouth with my first squirt of semen. He swallowed, giggled, pulled my cock from his mouth, stroked it with his free hand and watched as a second stream of white cum spurted, some on his face, but some high into the air splattering finally into the water where it floated below the surface in white streams separate from the water.

He splashed some water over my oozing cock, ducked beneath the surface to rinse his face, and then was athletically out of the pool. As he pulled himself up I had a tantalising glimse of his most secret place, revealed as the muscles of his arse parted his cheeks, and I saw that pinky-brown, petalled like a rose, tight-closed arse-hole. I promised myself my tongue and cock would soon penetrate there as I levered myself from the water and caught the towel he threw at me.

Dried we lay side-by side on the yellow air-bed. He was inches away from me, but that was too much. I wanted that young body, needed it at that moment more than anything else. His cocklet was still stiff, and invited the sort of treatment he had just given mine. I shifted head-to-toe and took it in my mouth. This was genuinely the first cock I had ever sucked. (I have never wanted to suck on an adult cock....but teenage boys, well that's another matter!). He groaned with pleasure, and I slid one arm under him, the other over, to pull him in close so his whole cock was in my mouth, his smooth belly against my only slightly rougher chin. the side of my hand rested between his are-cheeks, there where I had just had a quick vision of the beauty of his little-boy anus, so I took the opportunity to slide my index finger into him. He moaned, but it was clearly pleasure, not pain, and his arms clasped me even tighter, his nice little cock now shagging my very-willing mouth. I masturbated his anus, slipping my finger in and out, realising that he must have lubed it even before I arrived.

My cock was stiff again, but with that secure sort of erection you know will last for ever, like winged steel. He was fucking my mouth harder, faster now, and then there was the reward, a stream of boy-cum into my mouth, which I swallowed avidly. My first taste of cum (I had not even sampled my own, though I always do nowadays!) I enjoyed the twitches of his cock in my mouth for a minute or two until he pulled it out, still stiff. Without viagra! Oh to be fourteen again! 

'That was lovely, Yves.'

'For me too, Roger. What do you want to do now?' I was stiff again, and he giggled as he grasped my cock in one hand and cradled my balls in the other.'

'Turn over on your belly, like you were when I first saw you.'

'You like bottoms?'

'When they are as sexy as yours, Yves.'

I had often fantasised stroking and kissing firm. tanned bottom-cheeks, but to be honest the idea of licking  a boy's bottom-hole, much less penetrating it with my tongue, had not figured at all in my masturbatory fantasies, even those triggered by Pascal's disk. But I had had that tantalising glimpse of the holy place as the boy lifted himself from the pool and it looked so pretty I just had to see it again. I stroked his butt feeling the warmth of the tanned skin beneath my palms, the silky smoothness yet the firmness underneath. I stretched the cheeks apart, one hand on each, and he giggled placing his hands beside mine and pulling the flesh even further apart. There was his pretty "secret rose" puckered, hairless of course, and looking just like some exotic flower. I leaned over and placed a tentative kiss on it, the first kiss I had placed anywhere on his body. He wriggled his hips in appreciation and lifted his bottom just a fraction: I knew he was inviting more from me. And it was so good I licked with the point of my tongue: more wiriggling and a little chuckle: the arse raised just a bit more. Almost unthinking I made a point with my tongue and penetrated him. Now he giggled, and then sighed.

'That's lovely! I love that!'

For ten minutes I must have rimmed him while he encouraged me by telling me how good it was, by raising his hips for deeper pentration, and while my eager hands explored his back, his shoulders, arms, legs, and above all his buttocks. I wanted to kiss him on the lips, but it was so good to be kissing his bottom-hole that I defered that pleasure.

Finally Yves wanted more.....

'There's some lube under the corner of the mattress....

'You want me to fuck you?'

'Please.'

'I've no condoms.'

'It's OK. Pascal says you're a virgin. I'm your first so it's OK. I'm safe....get tested all the time and don't take chances in any case.'

'I'd love to fuck you, Yves. Kiss me.'

Still laying on his belly he turned his head so I could reach his lips, and as we kissed he recovered the lube, which was in a sort of pump-dispenser. I squirted some on my fingers, and then fingered his bottom hole. As we kissed I slid two fingers up him and felt his lips almost melt as I did so. The boy was incredibly sensual and clearly loved it. My tongue was inside his mouth, then his in mine, and then we were kissing completely open-mouthed. This sort of passion was new to me, and I was astounded how good it was between man and boy: my fumblings with neighbours' wives and the occasional girl at work never had this intensity.

Finally he could wait no longer and was kneeling for me. 

'Now! Please, Roger. I need it.'

A dab of lube on my knob, placed between his cheeks, up against that pretty anus, a push, a sigh from the boy and the knob was in. Yves pushed backwards as I pushed forward and amazingly my full length slid easily into his body. I leaned forward, deeply embedded, and kissed the back of his neck, there where he had some very fine blonde hairs. He shivered and begged me to fuck him. I obliged, starting a steady rhythm. 

Coming in his mouth and over his face in the pool had taken the edge off my urgency, but not off my pleasure. and I was as close to ecstasy as I have ever been as I held his hips between two hands and shagged him steadily and with rhythm. There was no danger of premature ejaculation, and we must have continued this wonderful exercise for near twenty minutes before I could feel tension building in my cock. I reached under him and held his cock and balls in one hand: he was nice and hard still, clearly enjoying being fucked. I started to wank him gently in time with my fucking and he started to pant and make little squeaking noises. I fucked hoim harder as my pleasure increased, and then felt my fist bathed in his boy-juice. This was too much for me and with a huge thrust I came, my first spurt deeep inside his rectum. Then another and another. I pulled my hand from under him and looked at it covered in his cum. I licked it, then licked all of it as I fucked slowly and more gently as my orgasm faded. finally I bent over him and kissed his neck. He turned his head to me and I kissed his lips feeling his tongue in my mouth, and supposing he could taste his own cum now on my lips.

His anus expelled my half-hard cock with a bit of a fart, at which we both laughed.

'I need another swim. It's hot!'

I had sweated up. too, and followed him into the pool as before. This time we did four lengths before coming out and drying.

'Hey, that was good, Roger. It's nice when we both cum together. Doesn't happen so often.'

'It was your cum that made me cum. I could feel it on my fingers and it blew my mind. It was better than good for me!'

'Was it really your first?'

'First with a boy, first with a male, first anal, best sex ever!'

'Great. Let's get a drink, rest a bit and see whether something comes up again.'

There was a fridge in the pavillion and I chose an ice-cold lager while the boy had a coke. He drank from the bottle, and I always drink from the can unless I'm in a bar. We lay side by side, and sometimes I stroked his fine skin, sometimes he combed his slender fingers through my pubic hair, or twisted up the hairs on my "treasure trail".

'You know, Yves, I wouldn't dare do this in my country....they are fiercely against love between a man and a boy.'

'Are here, too. But Dieter seems to have it worked out OK. Got some important friends I guess. So it's not woth the risk, eh?'

'I think it might be worth it. I've never had sex as good as this. You're so beautiful, and so good at it.'

'You're good too, Roger. Got a good body, too.'

'You reckon there are countries....?

'Sure, lots where boys and men have sex. Illegal of course, but happens all the time.'

'I'll look into it!'

Thanks in part to the little blue pill it was not long before my cock was stiffening....and his cocklet went stiff at about the same time. He laughed and grabbed at me. I loved his soft hand on my cock, which seemed almost to have a life of its own it was so hard.

'On my back this time, and it should last a good long time!'

The image of the boy laying on his back in the sun, tanned, little bown nipples and that proud little-boy cocklet standing above his tiny balls in their tight sack. He bent his legs back over his shoulders, incredibly supple, and this made his arse raise from the air-bed, opening the cheeks of his butt and again un-masking that cute puckered arsehole. I wanted him desperately. I grabbed the lube and squirted some on my knob, some on his anus and was on top of him, pushing at him with my steel-hard prick. It was an open door and I glided in watching a dreamy look of pleasure replace the usual cheeky grin on his face. And we fucked, and fucked and fucked and fucked. 

After what seemed a timeless age, he moved and put his heels on my shoulders. Now he could get his hands to his little cock and he wanked at it as I fucked him. His little fist flew up and down the shaft and I shagged him harder and faster. I felt his body tense, he closed his eyes, and a stream of white cum spurted from his cock, landing white against the tanned gold of his chest. As before his cum triggered mine and I had the biggest, longest orgasm I have ever known, before or since, straining to unload my balls into his willing bottom.

I collapsed on him, his legs off my shoulders now, and we kissed while my cock throbbed inside him and his arse gripped me.

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

And that was it.... we had been at it for hours in fact. We swam a couple of lengths to get rid of the sweat and cool off, had another coke and a beer, and then Yves had to dress so I did too.

I offered him a lift, but he was waiting for Dieter to return.

'Photo-shoot this evening. So it's love you and leave you. it was a great afternoon.'

'I can't tell you how good it was, Yves. I've never had sex like that.'

'what are you doing with the rest of your trip?'

'I thought I would go to Cologne for a few days.'

'Now that's a thought! Look. If you feel like some boy-sex while you are there call this number.' He was writing on one of Dieter's visiting cards. 'Abdi is Turkish. he's thirteen and very sexy. He lives with his father, and you pay his father. He'll visit your hotel for the night or you can vist their apartement for a couple of hours. I often do photo shoots with him, and he loves to be fucked.'

I had a lot to think about as I drove back down to the village.....

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