Honey Trap by © Hamilton Joyce         MM

Sir James Cardigan removed the file from his in-tray with more than usual 
enthusiasm. Reports from Donald McFee were usually interesting.....even 
stimulating. He opened the folder, which contained a thin type-script and a 
large brown envelope. He opened this latter carefully with a silver paperknife 
(a farewell gift from his comrades in his regiment). Good! Photographs. The 
top one was of two young men lying side-by-side, naked, smoking. That they 
were smoking cigarettes and were limp-cocked suggested they had at least 
temporarily satisfied their passion.

Sir James knocked out his pipe and studied the A4 glossy closely. The blonde 
he knew....it was his top agent, Donald. He was still absurdly handsome. 
Boyish still, despite his thirty something years. As usual the blonde curly hair 
reminded Sir James of his schooldays, and his first love. Charles Witherspoon. 
So pretty with his golden curls he had the nickname 'Bubbles'. And Donald's 
firm, trim, athletic bottom was no less appetising than his young friend's had 
been, so many years ago. Charley Witherspoon was a high-court judge 
now....and he himself was Head of  Counter-intelligence. So no more boyish 
fun between the sheets for either of them. His files showed that Charley 
limited himself to the occasional rent-boy...as did Sir James himself, though 
no security file would ever show that!

No wonder Donald was so effective at setting honey-traps. Foreign diplomats, 
their wives, matronly senior civil servants, their sons and daughters and their 
husbands. They were all putty in his hands. Seduced, compromised, 
blackmailed, enlisted as spies. Too easy really.

He sighed, but brightened up at the prospect of a very good read to end the 
day. He lifted the phone. 'Miss Stanmore. No interruptions for an hour, please. 
' He locked the door using his new electronic remote device. He stretched his 
legs out beside the desk and started to read.

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

                                        Operations Oct/Nov 2000, Agent McFee.

The target was identified October 2nd in the Joint Finance Initiative meeting at 
the British Embassy. I was in attendance in my cover as interpreter. Target was 
also an interpreter for the other side. In the event neither of us was needed as 
their delegation all had perfect English. I was bored, and was drawing on my 
pad when I noticed the target looking at me , surreptitiously. Slim and 
willowy.  He had those boyish, slavonic good looks. Perfect complexion with 
very little need to shave, I guessed, and wavy dark hair, somewhat longer than 
socialist conformity permitted......he would have to be careful! I caught his eye 
and smiled, as the business droned on. I was amazed when he blushed like a 
young girl, and hurriedly looked away.

I didn't have to be a mind-reader to know I had caught the boy in some guilty 
thought! And that thought had included me. He avoided my gaze  for the rest 
of the meeting, and left with the crowd of his employers without my making 
any contact. But he had been identified as a probable prospect. More, he could 
not be an intelligence agent....no-one has ever found how to blush to order!

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

Sir James looked again at the top photo. Yes, perfect olive complexion. Skin 
on his thighs and bottom smooth as a peach. Hairless chest. Good body, 
without being muscular. The sort of wiry strength you get in ballet dancers. 
Yes! And in teenage boys. Cock circumcised, and elegant in repose. He 
compared the two cocks and as he did so his hand slipped to his flies, 
unpopped the buttons and liberated his own prick from the cotton and the 
expensive tweed. He teased it into full erection, and lifted his arse from the 
leather chair to slip his trunks and trousers down to his ankles. his hand moved 
slowly up and down the shaft. 

You always got good value with Donald's reports, he thought. Sir James had 
always stressed that no level of detail could be too much. 'We need to be 
aware of your personal trade-craft, my boy. And your reports are ....names and 
places  removed of course....... the most valuable training resource. Both in 
setting honey traps, and helping our randy officials to avoid them.Your 
technique is accepted as near perfect'. It went without saying that Sir James 
also revelled in the detail himself....his cock was hard already and twitching in 
anticipation.

                                           .............................................
He returned to the typescript:

First contact with the target was made at the reception to mark the successful 
conclusion of The Talks. It was at the Ministry of Finance. Again interpreters 
were not needed and  I noticed him standing alone, a glass in his hand. I went 
over to him.

'Donald McFee. Like you, I'm an interpreter.'

'Yuri Orlov. Yes, I noticed you in the meeting yesterday.' I held his hand for 
just a second more than normal when we shook. I could see the surprised 
question in his eyes, but ignored it .

'I was bored out of my mind!'

'That was obvious Donald. They'd sack me if  I openly doodled on my pad 
while one of them was talking! Some things have changed here, but not that'

'Pompous, self-important idiots. Mine are too! But they aren't  as unprincipled 
as yours! Look, this place is dreadful. Let's slip out and go to a bar I know.'

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

It was only nine o'clock, so The Pink Parrot was still quiet, calm, and if not 
quite respectable, well not yet outrageous. That would start at about midnight 
when the real queens put in their appearance. So we were able to sit at a quiet 
table....lights subdued. I ordered a bottle of local champagne from one of the 
delightful young waiters and paid in dollars as required (though deutschmarks 
are acceptable!)  There were perhaps a dozen clients in the club at this early 
hour. Most of them Western businessmen looking for their squeeze that night. 
And, of course, about twenty 'waiters' and bar-hosts.

The bar had been there for ten years, to my knowledge, and had figured in 
several of my seductions. But since the wall came down it had a more open, 
tolerated existance.

We were chatting about how similar and how dreadful our lives were in the 
two opposing bureaucracies when a businessman, a German judging by the 
accent that cut through his pigeon-Slavonic, came over and asked Yuri to 
dance with him. For the second time Yuri blushed bright crimson, but 
managed to stutter a polite refusal.

Then, to me,'Dance! Oh, Donald, I just couldn't.'

'He thought you were one of the club-boys. They dance with customers for a 
few dollars a dance. Look. He's found one.' The stout German was clutching a 
very pretty boy in the standard uniform of tight, black trousers and white silk 
shirt. They were swaying together, chest-to chest, and I watched his be-ringed 
hands stroking the boy's bottom as they swayed together. Immediately, the ice 
broken, six or so other couples were on the floor.

I looked him in the eyes, into those deep, mysterious dark eyes. 'Ah! You 
couldn't dance with him, Yuri. But could you dance with me....I'd so like to!'

Again the deep blush. 'We shouldn't....it's not.......' I smiled and held his hand 
in mine as I rose from my chair. Submissive, he followed me, and we were on 
the dance floor. He danced well, following my lead. 'You see! What fun it is!' 
He laughed, and as the music changed to a slow blues he was pressing his 
body up to mine, his hands linked over my shoulder, behind my neck. I was 
imitating the German! Caressing Yuri's bottom cheeks, and pressing my belly 
against him. I could feel his erection and moved so that mine moved against 
his as we swayed rather than danced. He rested his cheek against mine.

We danced for perhaps ten minutes. The band was unpacking its instruments. 
With live music the whole place would soon be jumping. I told him this.  
'Let's go and have a sauna. I'm a member at a good one.'

Their saunas are not like ours! Not a bit. In fact they are really central to 
working lives, especially for important people. They combine the roles of 
golfclub, English gentleman's club, and pub. Men go there to talk, network, do 
business, politic etc. And very, very respectable! 'None of that sort of thing, 
mother!'

I watched him as he stripped.....this was going to be a pleasant asignment! You 
will see from the accompanying photographs that his body is almost hairless, 
though he has the physical development of an average seventeen year-old. (He 
is in fact twenty). He, with lowered eyes was watching me too and I carelessly 
showed him my body. In the hot room there were  three oldish gents  sitting in 
a circle. From their very loud conversation they were obviously military 
officers and close to being drunk. And obviously not gay.....not one glance in 
our direction from any of them. Yuri and I lay side by side on the hot slab, 
each with a white towel over our mid-riffs. We lay,  silent, sweating away the 
frustration of the working day.

'You know, Yuri, if this were in the UK, there'd be a girl to give you a 
massage and anything else you might want.'

'Aweful thought' he muttered.

'And in the US this room would be full of men feeling each other, sucking and 
even.........well, I leave it to your imagination! What your bosses still call the 
Decadent West!'

He blushed...a third time! And I could see a tent rising up under his towel. My 
cock stiffened as I watched his.

'You've the same problem as me,'I said, and for a second flipped my towel 
aside to show him my prick standing.  But I immediately stood up and tied the 
towel around my waist. 'Cold room  for me....and for you  too I should think.' 
I playfully brushed his prick with the back of my hand through his towel. 'Just 
one of two or three ways of getting rid of this!' In passing, I find inuendo and 
double entendres very useful for introducing gradually the notion of sex, of 
setting the scene as it were, and preparing the way for the direct approach. 

Across two rooms, with a scattering of people, and then the Cold . I dropped 
my towel and, naked dived in. As usual it took my breath away, but I struck 
out across the pool. I saw his hard cock for a second as he dropped his 
towel....and knew I would have no problem with my potency when I finally got 
him to bed. It was a lovely, straight, long, thin and elegant cock. A cock to die 
for.  He dived in after me, and I was pleased to see that he swam with a strong, 
athletic stroke. It was too cold to play, but we had the pool to ourselves and I 
dived under him, coming up between his legs and brushing his cock, limp now 
from the freezing , with my body as I did so. He laughed, struck off to the edge 
and hauled himself out. His buttocks opened with the effort, revealing his 
secret rose.  I swam behind him and he reached a hand down to help me out. 
Just as I was almost out, he let go, and I splashed back in. As I came up 
spluttering he laughed. 'That'll teach you......' And suddenly he blushed again!

This was obviously the best opportunity I would get to seduce and compromise 
him, and I took it, inviting him back to my appartment for a nightcap.

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

I put the two glasses on the coffee table, and leaned on the mantlepiece as I lit  
cigarettes for us. I deliberately adopted a romantic pose.....the mantlepiece, a 
relic from the pre-revolutionary grandeur of the appartment when it was still 
the salon of some nobleman, was white marble. Yuri visibly relaxed as we 
chatted. I made up a rigmarole about  my early life in The Highlands, and I 
learned he had been brought up by his mother, with whom he still lived. His 
father had died in an accident when Yuri was just a babe. I invented a father 
who is a sergeant in the army, and a mother who has to follow him around the 
world. I invented stories about my life in English boarding schools where I had 
suffered by being a Scot. And I certainly held his attention when I hinted that 
my blonde prettiness had led to 'certain  practises' in the single-sex school. 

'You see, Yuri, these acts are by no means as uncommon in my country as 
they are in yours. Most boys in boarding schools will have experienced 
fondling another boy's penis. A fair number will  have experimented with 
mouths and a large minority even with bottoms. Whereas, here, there is very 
little play between men.' I watched him blush! 'Or am I wrong about that? I 
really know so little about your country.'

'It is nearly impossible here. And when I......I mean even if a boy 
wanted.......well I don't know how he.......' His voice tailed off and he was  red 
with embarrassment. 'That was why I was so surprised at the club. I mean 
dancing! Men together.'

'But it was nice, wasn't it. I mean it was for me. I enjoyed dancing with you, 
Yuri.'

'Oh! Me too, Donald. Me too.'

I handed him his vodka. 'To us. To Yuri and Donald.'

'To us. To Yuri and Donald.'

We threw back the searing liquid. 

'Look, Yuri. It's late. You'll never get a taxi now , and I don't have to tell you 
how dangerous the streets are at this hour. Why not stay over. I can run you 
into your ministry in the morning. It's on the way to my embassy.'

'I'd like that.'

'Good. The bedroom's there. And use my things in the bathroom if you want.'

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

Sir James looked at the top photograph again. He'd been rationing himself, 
and as usual would only look at the next  when agent McFee's report indicated 
it. He wondered if Donald's bisexuality.....so very useful to The 
Department.....  had indeed originated in attentions paid to his blonde hair , his 
full lips and smooth, boyish bottom at school. Again he found his mind 
wandering back to 'Bubbles' Witherspoon. Yes! Donald would certainly have 
had his mouth and arse filled had he gone to their School. And so would Yuri.

Probable , too, that the dark-haired boy had never so much as fondled another 
boy's body. Useful, this to the Department. When the wall came down most 
taboos had collapsed with it. But this one, against homosexuality, remained as 
strong as ever. Gay honey-traps were as effective now as they always had 
been. Admittedly in the old days to be caught might have earned you the 
camps....especially if the sex was  with a westerner. But nowadays the social 
disgrace....and resulting unemployment....was still a powerful consideration. 
Their loss and our gain, he concluded.

But back to the report!

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

I had undressed completely and was laying on the double bed naked when Yuri 
came back from the bathroom. He stopped with an amusing double take. He 
had after all seen me naked ...if only for a moment....at the pool. 

'I sleep nude. Hope that's ok?'

'No problem.' he said, but he was blushing. I could almost hear his heart 
racing as he finally found his darkest fantasies on the edge of realisation. He 
dropped the shirt and socks he was carrying onto a chair, and undid his 
trousers, allowing them to drop to the floor. And now his boxer trunks. He 
stood there facing me, half-erect. He didn't know what to do next, so I gave 
him something to do. My cock was  stiffening at the prospect of having that 
hard little arse.

'Put out the overhead light...there's a dear. Switch's over there. And then 
come to bed.' The bedside lamp gave a soft, intimate light. As he walked back 
towards the bed his cock swayed, graceful, arcing down, at least semi-erect. 
Even here, on his tight balls and up to his flat stomach, his  body hair was 
slight, though dark and glossy. His legs and arms were as slim as a young 
boy's, and his hips and bottom too. His face was almost feminine with his 
wavy dark hair and full lips. Altogether a very pretty mouthful. I found myself 
licking my lips in anticipation, my own cock hardening. He lay on the bed 
beside me, a foot or soof no-mans-land between us.

Now or never! I leaned over him, took his head between my two hands, and 
planted my lips against his. I felt his body stiffen under me and for a moment 
thought he would reject me, shame and fear triumphing over desire. But as I 
kissed him, I felt his body relax , and his mouth opened as I slipped my tongue 
in. I released his head from my hold but only so that I could feel his body. It 
was every bit as good as I had suspected when we were dancing. I ran my 
hands over his chest and hips, and now he was responding, his hands running 
over my back, kneading muscles on my shoulders, and on my buttocks. Still 
we kissed, neither wanting, nor daring perhaps, to stop.

Finally I had to come up for air, and instead placed my lips over his nearly 
hairless nipple, sucking until it stood, a hard little grain, in my mouth. He 
moaned as I licked his other nipple into erection. Now I traced a spiral pattern 
with the tip of my tongue over his chest and belly. I gripped his hips  and, still 
with the lightest of touches from my tongue, ran it down over the helmet of his 
cock, down the shaft. His hips rose in an involuntary movement, inviting me to 
take him in my mouth. His hands gripped my shoulders.

'Please, Donald......'

I ignored him, and licked the skin of his his tight scrotum. His cock twitched, 
and I knew it would explode in orgasm almost the moment I mouthed it. This 
was certainly a tempting prospect, but there was a real danger that once he had 
come guilt and shame would replace lust, and I would be left without having 
had what I really wanted....his arse. And what I really needed for the honey 
trap....pictures of his pleasure at being fucked in the arse.

I was still holding him tight, a hand on each hip. I turned him over on his side 
and spread his buttocks with both hands. His arsehole, which had twinkled at 
me so briefly in the sauna,   was brown and puckered, revealed now between 
the olive, smooth delights of his bottom cheeks. Apart from a very light fuzz 
he was still hairless. I pressed my face into his cleavage, and licked. I was 
rewarded by that same moan of pleasure. My tongue now, pursed and hard as I 
penetrated him with it, first into him, and then round and round in a circular 
motion.

'Oh! That tickles, Donald....'

'You have a lovely, tight little arse, Yuri.' I heard my voice muffled by his 
body.

'Don't stop!'

I did stop, but only for the time it took to get a squeeze of KY on my finger 
and return to relaxing his anus. I slipped the tip of my finger in, very gently, 
and started to finger-fuck him.
He was writhing under me, and was taking the full length of my index finger 
as it slipped easily in and out. A second finger. And a third. There was going 
to be no problem with this one! The second photograph in the report 
documents this phase of the operation.

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

Sir James at last allowed himself a look at the second one, slipping the first to 
the bottom of the heap. The dark-haired boy was lying on his side . He was 
biting his arm with a look almost of pain, but surely of pleasure , on his face. 
One leg was stretched out, and the other bent so the slim but rounded shape of 
his buttocks and thigh was accentuated. The blonde boy was pressed up 
against him, his face buried in the other's neck and shoulders, his hand pressed 
between the other's legs. 

He was in danger of coming as he looked at the picture and stroked his cock. 
So he returned to the typescript.
                                           ...................................................
                     
I rolled him on his back, my fingers still in him, fucking him. Again , his cock 
was tempting, but again I postponed that pleasure. Instead I kissed him again 
before telling him 'Now I'm going to fuck you Yuri.' They have at least a 
dozen words for that , and I used a gentle, romantic one. The sort of expression 
a bridgroom might use to his bride on their wedding night.

'Shall I kneel?'

'Later. This time I want to see your face....'

I positioned him on his back so that one of the cameras would focus on his 
face and another be centred on his belly. I have selected two photographs from 
some thirty of this phase. They are numbered 3 and 3a.

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

Sir James turned over the glossy paper. Yes, Number three. This was clearly 
the moment of entry. The boy's face, and below that his belly, and the 
suspicion of another body. The boy's face was contorted in pain, his teeth 
clenched and his lips drawn back. Sir James laughed, and remembered his first 
time....part of the 'new-boy's' initiation at school. It had been that thug 
Rugglestone who did it first. It had hurt....but not for long. He had a sudden 
thought, wondering what happened to Rugglestone. Easy to find out! He 
scribbled himself a note. Soon the full weight of Military Intelligence would 
be looking for Mr Rugglestone! No, it didn't hurt for long. Photo 3a showed 
that same slavonic  face with a mysterious smile.....was that where Leonardo 
found it? Yes , it was clear the boy was enjoying his first fucking.

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

As usual, at the moment of first penetration there was a sudden sharp pain, 
even though I was as gentle and careful as I know how to be. I have found it is 
better to press on, and that with the withdrawal, and second long, gentle push 
the pain is replaced by , if not quite pleasure yet, then an acceptable 
discomfort. And of course, an increasing pleasure. We were fucking properly 
now, my full length in and out, his hips rising to meet me. And our lips 
together in a long kiss, tongues inter-mingling. 

I needed to come up for air again. I broke off the kiss, and raised myself on 
one elbow, still fucking with the same slow rhythm. His cock was hard. I 
reached down with my free hand and grasped it. I could feel it throbbing and 
twitching in my loose hold. A drop of cum in its eye. He was close to coming. 
I fucked harder and wanked at his cock. He moaned and came, great globules 
of white cum spattering up over his belly and chest. I released the cock and 
collapsed on his chest, his cock trapped between our two bodies, still twitching 
and oozing cum. I fucked faster, and pressed my lips to his as I came. Six 
sharp thrusts, each culminating in a spurt deep into him. 

The shot of him coming with me deep in his arse is numbered 4. The shot of 
our embrace at the end is numbered 4a. I should stress there are many other 
shots as the camera was on twenty-second automatic.

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

Sir James nodded. Yes, always the professional , our Donald. And the full 
sequence could well be edited for a forthcoming Anglo-American training 
exercise. He needed something to impress the Americans with The 
Department's expertise. There were still some things the Brits excelled at!  He 
read on, forgoing the temptation to allow himself to come. Later!

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

There was, happily, no shame, guilt or embarrassment from this newly 
initiated boy. He explained to me that since puberty, and maybe before, he had 
always dreamed of male bodies in his wet dreams. And that if he 
masturbated...which mostly he didn't....or so he claimed (?)..
it would be with images of young men in his mind. He had been painfully in 
love with a boy at school, but had never dared do anything.

'I wish I'd known you when I was fourteen, Yuri!'

'I'm too old for you, Donald.' His face was a picture of misery.

'You're perfect, Yuri. You're the best I've ever had. No, I just feel sorry for 
the teenage boy who so wants sex, but can't because the other boys won't. And 
yet, surely they wanted it too? What a tragedy. Wouldn't happen in my 
country!  I wish I'd been there to make love to you those years ago.'

'You're wonderful, Donald. So kind. And so gentle. And yet so strong. ' He 
felt down to my cock, which as usual was still hard after the first fuck. 'Shall 
we again?'

'In the shower this time. We're both hot. It'll be good in the shower.'  

There are two shots from the shower phase. The first shows Yuri and myself 
soaping each other. That is number 5. 5a shows Yuri in my arse. This is a 
transcription of the audio tape taken from the microphone in the shower:

McFee: That's not too cold , is it?

Subject: Perfect, Donald. I love it when you soap me. Over my back, now my 
chest, my belly, my bottom, and now my balls. I'm hard again.

McFee: Now everything I do to you, you do to me! Yes, like that. My balls and 
cock too.

Subject: How many fingers have you got in me?

McFee: Three......put yours up me. Yes, not too hard at first. Yes. Like that. In 
and out like that. God I love it. Hug me. Kiss me.

McFee: (after a silence). I can feel you hard against my belly. God, you've a 
lovely cock. Look, I'll brace myself against the wall, and stick my bottom out. 
Now, soap it again, and then slip that tool up me.  That's right. Plenty of soap. 
Now! Ouch! It still hurts me first...always has. But that's good now. And reach 
round me and wank me. I need both hands on the wall to support me. Time 
your hand with your cock. Run your hand up my shaft as you push it in, and 
down as you pull it out. God! You sure you've never done this before. God! 
That's good.

Subject: I can't hold it. It's too good. Dear God! I'm coming. Yes! 

Subject: (after a silence) I forgot you while I was coming. I forgot to jerk you. 
I'm so sorry, Donald. 

McFee: We all forget when we're coming! I love your tongue on my neck. 
Look, kneel down on the shower mat. Yes! You know what I want? I can see 
you do. Lovely. Lick it. Down the front where it's sensitive. Now the knob. 
And now in your mouth. Now suck while I push in and out. I'll hold your head 
still, Yuri, and push in and out as if I'm fucking your mouth. Lovely soft, full 
lips. God. My turn. Swallow. Yes, lovely, swallow! Yes. All. Swallow all! 
God!.

The tape ends there, and although there are photographs of the two of us 
sleeping happily, his arm over my chest....we have not included them in the 
report.

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

Sir James kicked the trousers away from his brogues and walked to the wall 
cabinet. He opened it, poured a whisky, and returned to his work. His cock 
waved in front of him as he walked.

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

In the event I did not need to blackmail. The conversation was as follows.
'Yuri, why is your society so down on people like us. I mean people who enjoy 
their own sex?'

'It is dangerous to them. They see it as subversive of their socialist value 
system. And the Church was always against it....although they do say the 
priests.......'

'And is it subversive.'

'I hope so!'

'Do you mean that, Yuri. Would you like to see it change?'

'You know I would, Donald. Kiss me. Mmmmmm'

'You could help change it, you know. You must see a lot of interesting stuff 
when you're translating?'

'Sure. Kiss me again. That's right, your hand there. Especially the papers we 
steal from you and the Americans. They all have to be translated.'

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

'Bingo!' thought Sir James

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

'Could you get them for us...I mean for the Embassy?'

'Easy! They're all on my hard disk. And it's easy to get floppies in and out of 
the Ministry.Yes, just like that. Mmmmmm.'

'There's someone you must meet, Yuri. His name's Gregor Conningham.

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

The case meeting with Head of Section, Gregor Conningham and myself has 
been minuted separately by HOS. But in outline the decision was to give the 
development of this agent (codenamed Toy) the highest priority, with 
Conningham to hand over all other duties for the time being, and to 
concentrate on him. It was decided that a sexual bonding and dependence 
should be used to reinforce the agent's ideological motivation. It would be 
Conningham's task to replace McFee as the object of the agent's libido.

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

Gregor joined us at our table about ten minutes after we had arrived. He was 
careful to ingratiate himself with subject, encouraging him to retell the traumas 
of his life, smiling, flattering and generally using sophisticated seduction 
techniques.

These of course will be described in his separate contact report.
I  left them to talk, and pretended to be more interested in an effeminate 
creature in drag at the next table. However, I was able to see Toy becoming 
infatuated. Gregor is, as you will be aware, a massively-built man. Two 
hundred and ten pounds and six foot two. Not and ounce of fat on him, and 
shoulders and neck like a heavy-weight boxer (which in fact he is). 

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

Sir James stole a glance at the photograph next in the pack, and shuddered at 
the massive thighs and biceps. Not his sort at all! He turned back to the report. 
Only a page or two left now.

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

Toy was gazing into his eyes like a love-sick teenage girl, and hanging on his 
every word. His blushing had been cured and he tripped happily onto the 
dancefloor holding Gregor's hand. I watched them smooch, Gregor fondling 
Toy's arse, and Toy even daring to kiss him, pressed body-to-body. 

They finally returned to the table when the band started a livelier rock number. 
'The band is pretty good tonight, Tiny,' I said as they sat down.

'Tiny?' Yuri asked. 'Oh, I see . It is a joking name. Because he is so big, you 
call him 'Tiny'.'

'Well, Yuri, you're nearly right. Can I tell him, Gregor?' He nodded, grinning. 
'He was always called Tiny at school. And it was a joke , because he was so 
big. But not really his body. The joke was about his cock....it was the biggest 
any boy had ever seen....and it's even bigger now!'

Gregor laughed, depreciatingly.

'So very big?' Yuri was silent a bit. 'And the other boys played with him, like 
you explained, Duncan?'

Gregor was still laughing. 'Sure, Yuri. And I played with them. Wish you'd 
been there!'

I interrupted their happy chat. 'Let's go back to your place, Gregor.....and you 
can show him.'

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

We were all naked on Gregor's bed. But I stayed out of it, just wanking to 
keep hard. Photograph 7 records this phase. 

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

Sir James turned the next glossy print over, and saw the scene. Ducan indeed, 
a cigarette in one hand, and jerking his cock with the other. More excitingly 
Yuri ('Toy'....a stupid codename, thought Sir James. Too onvious. He was too 
obviously a pretty little, sweet little, luscious little Toy. He'd have to change 
that codename).....more excitingly, Yuri was kneeling with his face crushed in 
the pillow. Massive, twice the weight of the kneeling boy, Conningham knelt 
behind him, oiling his cock, which was encased in a condom. Must get special 
ones, thought Sir James. Christ, he's big.....length and girth. Sir James 
suddenly thought it would be interesting to try to suck that one....though not 
for him the prospect of passive buggery! Though he could understand how 
someone into being buggered would find the prospect of that huge prick in 
them quite entrancing.

He turned over the next photo, referred to in the report.

This must be the moment of penetration. He ran his eye over the text. Yes, it 
was indeed. The report drew attention to the momentary look of anguish on the 
subject's face as the cock was pressed home. The next photograph. Ah yes! 
Now the subject was smiling, and Conningham was clearly well into his stride, 
grasping the boy's hips in two great, bear-like paws, and shoving. The shot 
caught him half-inserted.

He read on.......wanking himself hard now. Only one paragraph left. 'It was 
clear the sexual bonding would be achieved. As I quietly picked up my clothes 
and walked out, neither noticed me go. I dressed next door to the sound of 
Gregor grunting with each insertion, and as I let myself out, I heard Toy come 
with a crescendo of endearments.'

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

Sir James closed the buff folder, and went back to the earlier photos. It was the 
one of Yuri in the shower, buggering the eager Donald, that he was looking at 
when he allowed himself to come, splattering the top of his polished desk.

                                                                    FIN



 

