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The entirely fictitious narrative that follows includes depictions of consensual sexual activity between an adult and a young teenager. If this is likely to offend or if this type of material is forbidden for you then you should proceed no further.

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

 

ARCHIE

 

My new job means I have had to change my travel arrangements to and from work. Now I need to catch the 47 bus each day and it is on this selfsame bus that my most recent encounter starts.

 

Finishing my shift at 3 pm allows me to get ahead of the busier rush hour. All the same, the bus is quite crowded on the lower deck and so I make my way up the steps to find a seat. There are only a few travellers up here and I sit in one of the middle seats just as the bus lurches forward. I survey the scene from the window as the bus rumbles along. It is the usual town centre vista; shops and small businesses, the occasional pub, bank, takeaway, and so on.

 

A couple of stops later, I notice a group of school kids alighting the bus. It's a typical crowd of energetic adolescents, self-absorbed in their chatter as they jostle and joke. From my place up here it is hard to make out any detail but soon enough a group of them charges up the stairway and I'm able to take a better look. From the uniforms they are wearing it is clear they all attend the same school. Pale blue blazers with embroidered capital letters signifying the school's name. There are five boys and three girls ranging in ages, I guess, from perhaps twelve to fifteen. They clatter up the steps noisily and split into three smaller factions. An older boy swings himself beside one of the girls across the aisle. They're obviously an item and happy to disassociate themselves from their more raucous companions. Holding hands, they are soon gazing at one another with the puppy dog eyes of first love. Another boy storms to the rear of the bus pursued by the other two girls. They giggle inanely, egged on by the boy who curses loudly. He's quite good-looking, which is perhaps why the the giddy schoolgirls are drawn to him, but I find his yobbish air unappealing. The remaining three boys head for seats at the front of the bus. Each takes a double seat to himself which means they are mostly sideways on as they chat, affording me with a better view than expected.

 

I sit watching the boys, assessing each one in turn. I cannot be too obvious about this and from time to time I glance from the window as our journey progresses. All the same, within a couple of minutes I have completed my initial appraisal. They are probably of the same age, maybe thirteen. Boy 1 is rather chubby with short, fair hair and a perpetual grin. He's chomping on a chocolate bar, the wrapper casually discarded on the floor. Nice enough, I think to myself, imagining that he might have a stubby little prick. Meanwhile, his high-pitched voice suggests he's probably still lacking any pubes. Boy 2 is the noisiest of the three. He has dark hair in a fashionable cut and a thin face that might be described as weasel-like. He chatters incessantly and cannot keep still for a moment. A bundle of energetic youth that would probably be described as ADHD these days. A hint of fluff above his top lip hints that he is more advanced in the puberty stakes. I conjure up an image of a plump boycock in his trousers adorned with a dash of trim, black pubes. Boy 3 is the one who really captures my imagination. He has a slim build and is the tallest of the three. His blond locks constantly fall over his pretty blue eyes and he has a habit of flicking them back with one hand from time to time. Like his friends, his school tie is half-fastened in a ludicrous schoolboy fashion as if to say if I must wear a tie I shall wear it frivolously! I daydream about what it might be like having a sexual encounter with each of them but find my eyes more and more drawn to Boy 3 until I'm lost in an almost trance-like predicament.

 

Shit! He's looking straight back at me! I hurriedly turn my head to the views from the window, wondering if he's noticed my scrutiny. After a moment, I glance back at him. He is once again engaged with his friends so I assume he hasn't really noticed my leering after all.

 

As the bus makes its way into the more residential part of town it gradually begins to empty of passengers. Boy 1 is the first of my trio to leave. 'Laters, losers!' he calls, jauntily swiping a hand across the top of Boy 3's head.

 

'Wanker!' Boy 3 calls out, although it is all in good spirits.

 

A couple of stops later, it is Boy 2 who gets up to leave. They say their goodbyes and he hurtles down the steps. I watch him leap from the bus from my window. He turns towards Boy 3, gesturing crudely with his middle finger.

 

The bus pulls away and I find myself admiring Boy 3 once more. I can only see him from behind now. A thin trail of hair inches down the boy's nape. I wish I could run a sensual fingertip down it until he leans back like a cat being stroked.

 

Without warning he stands. This must be his stop, I suppose. I want to see him face on as he walks towards me down the aisle of the bus. I'm not expecting him to look back but he does. He looks straight at me, his blue eyes piercing me with their stare. I didn't mind, indeed, I half-smile at him. After all, I'm just another passenger on the bus, aren't I? Minding my own business and not perving over schoolboys. He's oblivious to my lustful thoughts, surely?

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

The next day I'm on the same bus at the same time. I've even forgotten about the schoolboys from yesterday so when they charge onto the bus again it comes almost as a surprise. The kids are exactly the same as before and and they sit in pretty much the same places; the yob at the rear with his female hangers-on, the teen lovebirds halfway down the bus, and my three boys at the front. It all proceeds as the first day. I watch the boys closely, feeling my cock stiffen a little as I imagine what each one of them looks like naked.

 

I picture Boy 1 sitting on the edge of his bed, desperately searching for the first signs of a pubic hair. It's not fair, I imagine him thinking, all my friends are growing pubes so why can't I? I imagine Boy 2 at home in the bathroom. He's just had a shower and is admiring his nakedness in the mirror. He's taking pictures with his phone, trying to get the best angle to show off his youthful torso. He poses sideways as it is the best way to catch the full length of his hard boycock that's now at full erection.

 

My musings move to Boy 3. I wonder if he's had a wank today. Maybe he awoke with a stiffy that needed attention; perhaps he had a quickie in the school toilets; will he have one as soon as he gets home or will he wait for a more leisurely wank at bedtime? He glances back at me and for a micro-second our eyes connect. Then he looks away again.

 

I'm not the only one with a hardon. I smile to myself as I notice Boy 2 adjusting himself, trying to hide the boner in his trousers that has popped up for no apparent reason. The other boys don't seem to notice, or if they do, they don't draw attention to it. When he eventually gets off the bus he uses his school-bag to conceal the boyish bulge. I don't get to see the lump in his trousers but I have at least discovered that his name is Harvey from one of the girls at the back who calls out, 'See you tomorrow, Harvey!' as he descends the steps.

 

All too soon it is Boy 3's stop. He looks at me as he passes but this time there's a definite grin and a sparkle in his eye. Or is it a fabrication on my part? Is it just my imagination in overdrive?

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

I am sitting nearer the front of the bus on the third day anticipating my three boys will head for their usual seats allowing me to be closer. I'm not to be disappointed and, when they scramble aboard, I'm just two seats away. I watch them discreetly and can listen in on their schoolboy chatter. They've obviously had a Maths test during the day and are discussing their grades. Boy 1 (who I've now discovered is called Ryan) did rather poorly, it seems, but makes light of it in his usual frivolous manner. Boy 2 (Harvey) managed to get away with cheating, cribbing some answers from a clever pupil he had strategically sat himself beside. He is a pleased as punch. Boy 3 (my delicious favourite – I wish I knew his name!) got an A grade. He is obviously as clever as he is cute!

 

Soon enough, Ryan and Harvey have disappeared and I have my special boy to myself. I'm gazing at him from behind when he suddenly turns, as if sensing my stares.

 

'Alright?' he asks. His voice is a deep treble, changing but still boyish.

 

'Er, yes,' I reply, 'You?'

 

'D'you always get this bus?' he asks.

 

'Yeah, I finish work early so I'm on the way home.'

 

'Cool,' he smiles. There's a momentary pause. If I don't say something he'll turn away again and the connection will be lost.

 

'What about you?' I ask, 'Which school do you go to?'

 

He tells me the name. I ask if he likes going there.

 

'It's okay, I s'pose,' he answers, 'Some things are good, others are bad.'

 

'Such as?'

 

'Having a laugh with my mates...good; too much homework...bad!'

 

We both smile.

 

'Well, I think you look very smart in your uniform,' I say. Damn! Do I have to make it so obvious?!

 

'Cheers,' he replies, 'But the first thing I do when I get home is take it all off!'

 

I have visions of him undressing. Kicking his shoes aside without untying the laces, yanking the tie free, pulling off his shirt and trousers and throwing them in a heap on the floor of his bedroom, standing there in just his underwear.

 

'My stop's next,' he announces, disrupting my reverie. 'See you tomorrow?'

 

'Yes, sure, I'll be here as usual.'

 

He stands to depart. 'I'm Archie, by the way,' he says with a grin, 'See ya!'

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

The rest of that week and the start of the next follows much the same pattern. The boys join me on the bus while I watch and listen. Once alone with Archie we have a few minutes of conversation before he leaves.

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

A few days later, as we chat, he cheekily asks if I am any good at French.

 

'Why do you ask?' I enquire.

 

'We have a tough translation to do by next Monday, that's all,' he explains.

 

'Well, as it happens I took French at A level back in the day!'

 

'Do you remember any of it?' he asks.

 

'Of course I do,' I say, 'My schooldays were not so long ago that I've forgotten!'

 

'Any chance you might help me out?'

 

'I could take a look, I suppose.'

 

'I was thinking of a bit more than that,' he says, with a glint in his eye. 'I'm too busy at the weekend to do it properly...so I was thinking you might do it for me!'

 

'You've got a nerve, haven't you!'

 

'Don't ask, don't get,' he grins.

 

'Supposing I agree,' I continue, 'How's this going to work?'

 

'Easy,' he replies, reaching into his school-bag and retrieving a text book which he passes to me. 'It's page 33, exercise 4. You can give it to me tomorrow afternoon.'

 

That's not the only thing I'd like to give him, I think, taking the book from him. I find the page and cast an eye over the exercise. It's fairly basic stuff. 'Okay, I'll do it for you,' I say, 'But I may ask a favour in return sometime.'

 

'Such as?'

 

'Oh, I don't know,' I reply with an enigmatic smile, 'I'm sure I'll come up with something!'

 

We're nearing his bus stop and he prepares to go. It's so frustrating that we only have a few moments each day to talk but it's better than nothing, I suppose.

 

'See you tomorrow, then,' says Archie, 'And whatever you do, don't tell the others.'

 

'I'm good at keeping secrets,' I smile.

 

'Me too,' he responds with a conspiratorial wink that delights me.

 

He hurries away and I watch as he jumps from the bus. He turns and waves, something he's never done until now. Is he taking advantage of me, I wonder, or does he consider me as one of his friends?

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

He achieves full marks for the French translation exercise, of course, and the following week we continue our daily chats becoming more and more relaxed in one another's company. A cynic would call this 'grooming' but that hasn't even entered my mind. I'm just enjoying the company of this lad for a few minutes each day.

 

'How much further is your house?' he asks, one afternoon.

 

'Three more stops after yours,' I explain, 'Probably about a mile from where you live, I imagine.'

 

'Not a long walk for me then.'

 

'What do you mean?'

 

'You're only a few streets away,' he says, 'If I decided to call in on you one day.'

 

'Why would you want to do that?'

 

'Just so we could chat for longer, I guess. You could even do my homework for me!' he laughs.

 

'What would your parents think about that?' I ask.

 

'I wouldn't tell 'em. It would be nice to get out of the madhouse once in a while!'

 

He tells me a little about his crowded household. As well as his parents there are two older brothers and a sister who's recently had a baby.

 

'I see what you mean,' I say, 'I live by myself so you would be welcome to visit just to escape for a bit of peace and quiet.'

 

'Yeah, if you don't mind, I'd like that.'

 

'Best to keep it between us though,' I add. 'I'm not sure they would approve of you visiting a man you met on a bus!'

 

He smiles, 'Yeah, I see what you mean.'

 

'We wouldn't want people to think the wrong thing, would we?'

 

Then, quite unexpectedly, he lowers his hand to his crotch and gives it a little squeeze. Initially, I assume he's just making minor adjustments to himself but when he says, 'Whatever gave you that idea?' with a sly wink I'm rather caught by surprise.

 

[Thank you, dear Reader, for staying with me thus far. I am coming to the 'exciting' bits soon which, I suspect, are the reason for many of you being here]

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

Archie's visit comes sooner than expected. The very next day, in fact. The afternoon bus journey proceeds much as every other day. The teenage lovebirds have obviously fallen out as the girl is sitting downstairs with some friends and the boy has joined the trio at the rear of the bus. Other than that, little has changed. I watch 'my' three boys as usual. I like to think of them as 'my' boys although I've never even spoken to Ryan and Harvey. They behave exactly as you would expect thirteen-year-olds to behave; boisterous, chatting one above the other, unfettered by the worries of adult life.

 

Soon enough, Ryan and Harvey had departed and I'm chatting with Archie.

 

'Is it okay to come to your place now?' he asks.

 

'Er, well, I'm not sure,' I garble.

 

He persists, 'Go on...please!'

 

'Won't you be expected at home?' I ask.

 

'No, I told my mum I was going to Ryan's for my tea tonight.'

 

'You crafty beggar!'

 

'I hope you don't mind,' he goes on, 'I mean, if you're busy or whatever then...'

 

'No, it's fine, Archie.'

 

'So I can come back with you then?'

 

'Yeah, why not!'

 

It feels odd reaching his usual bus stop with him not getting off but I'm also excited. I have a nervous butterfly feeling in my stomach; not that I'm anticipating anything sexual but just knowing Archie wanted to spend more time in my company. A few minutes later we both alight at my stop and take the short work to my home. We talk about his friends. They're obviously still in the 'gang phase' of boys' development. Enjoy it while it lasts, I think to myself, as soon enough the group will dissipate once they discover the appeal of girls! Archie tells me there are five boys in his clique. There's Ryan and Harvey, obviously, and two others I've never seen called Gavin and Mikey. It seems Gavin is Archie's best friend but he lives in the opposite direction and catches a different bus to ours.

 

As we near my home he tells me about his friends and some of their exploits. They are all typical boyish mischief although that doesn't stop my mind wandering. I imagine sleepovers amongst the boys, furtive fumblings as they compare cocks and pubes, discovering wanks and ejaculations and wanting to show off about it, maybe tentative explorations each other's bodies.

 

I unlock the front door of my house and he follows me inside. 'What time do you have to get back home? I ask.

 

'I told my mum about seven,' answers Archie.

 

That means we have around three hours together. He follows me into the kitchen. 'Drink?' I ask, opening the fridge.

 

'Coke?' he responds.

 

'Sure,' I say, taking a couple of cans, 'Let's go into the lounge.'

 

Archie removes his school blazer, laying it across the back of the sofa. We sit and talk. He tells me a bit about his school day, the lessons he's either hated or enjoyed, the latest exploits of his gang.

 

'No girlfriend, then?' I ask.

 

He laughs. 'No way! Girls are boring! Boys are much more fun!'

 

'In what way?'

 

'Oh, I dunno, all sorts of ways.'

 

'That's not a proper answer!'

 

'Boys are a laugh, aren't they. I mean, you can do stuff with boys that you couldn't do with girls.' I say nothing, hoping he might elucidate. He doesn't disappoint. 'You know, naughty stuff!' he says. As if to add emphasis he sits back in the chair, parts his legs and glances down at his groin before looking directly at me. I still don't say a word and he adds, 'Go on, then...I know you want to!'

 

'Only if you're sure,' I reply.

 

'Of course I'm sure,' he says, 'I wouldn't be here otherwise!'

 

I put one hand on his thigh. 'Go on, then!' he invites.

 

My hand drifts along his young thigh to the bulge in his trousers. I push my palm against it and he sighs. 'What I big boy you are!' I say, feeling his hardness. A rather cheesy comment, I admit, but I couldn't think of anything else. As I rub it gently he leans further back, puts his hands behind his head and closes his eyes. 'It must be a bit squashed in there,' I say, 'Why don't we take these trousers off?'

 

I unfasten his trousers and fumble with the zip. Archie, meanwhile, prises his shoes off toe against heel until they fell to the floor. I have managed to unzip him and between us his trousers are pushed down his legs and over his ankles. He kicks them to one side and then sits back as before, eyes closed. I don't know why but I had rather assumed he would be wearing boxers. What I see instead is a pair of skimpy briefs, dark green trimmed with white and perhaps a size to small for him. I wonder if he has chosen them especially as they sculpt his sausage-shaped bulge perfectly.

 

I touch him there again, stroking a fingernail up the length of his cock. It throbs back at me, pushing the underwear outwards. As I tease him there I admire his young body. He still has his socks on which looks somewhat comical. My eyes scan his legs from ankles up. They are still boyishly smooth, slender yet firm. One hand fondles his hardness while the other glides up beneath his school shirt. His belly is taut and warm and he stifles a little giggle as my fingers run across his flesh.

 

Now it is time to release his little beast! I take hold of the waistband of his briefs and tug gently. Realising what I am after, he raises his buttocks just enough for me to shuffle the garment down. He has one of those cocks that doesn't stick outwards but hardens alongside the curve of his belly. Freed at last, it slaps against his skin. He's shuffling his legs almost as if riding a bicycle, urging his little briefs downwards until they are off completely. With one foot, he flicks them half way across the room.

 

I hold his cock between my fingers. It is maybe a little bigger than I'd expected, perhaps five inches. The skin is smooth and unblemished. He is uncut but the dark red of his glans is poking out at the tip. It is wet and shiny, coated with a dribble of precum. The cock curves slightly so the tip is actually touching his belly. I coax the foreskin back a little. Is he able to expose the fullness of his glans yet? I peel it back gently, revealing more of the dark helmet. Archie releases a little gasp as I manipulate him. Then, almost with a plop, the glans is freed of the foreskin. The little slit oozes another dribble of precum as if in thanks of its liberation.

 

I slowly wank Archie, savouring the moment and not wishing to hurry. We all know boys have a tendency to peak quickly (I remember that when I was Archie's age I could 'knock one out' in a matter of seconds if I chose to!) and I want this to last if possible.

 

I tickle his pubes. They are wispy and immature and sit above the base of his cock. Everywhere else is hairless including his scrotum. I fondle the wrinkled bag and gently feel the contents. Two little plum-shaped boy's balls. Archie giggles again as I delicately squish them between thumb and finger. He's enjoying it, though, and opens his thighs a little allowing me to explore his smooth perineum and the ridge of skin that heads for his bumhole. That's for another day, perhaps, I say to myself.

 

I lean my head down to suck him. I begin by swirling my tongue across his glans, licking up the precum and sampling its tanginess. My lips enclose the head of the delicious boycock and glide along its full length until I feel the fluff of his pubes against my face. I suck it up and down and he responds by pushing forward his bony hips, matching each of my motions. I continue for a few minutes, slowly working on his saliva-coated cock and teasing every inch of him with my lips and tongue.

 

Eventually I sit up. I take in some air, fully intending to quickly return to the erotic treat. Archie opens his eyes and smiles.

 

'That's amazing,' he says, 'It's the best thing ever!' Then he sits up, 'D'you want me to suck you now?'

 

'No, you don't have to,' I reply. It is true to say that I'm more than happy to pleasure the boy and don't seek reciprocation. Sucking on a stiff, thirteen-year-old's boner is more than enough.

 

'But what if I want to?' he asks.

 

'Really?'

 

'Yeah, I'd like to try it anyway.'

 

I don't argue. A boy offering to suck your cock is a rare gift. Removing my trousers and underpants I sit beside him. 'Are you sure?' I ask.

 

Archie leans in towards me and then takes my erection in his hand, tentatively to begin but then gripping it firmly. Like him, the head of my cock is glazed with sticky precum. He teases it with a finger, drawing it out in a viscous strand. He opens his lips and begins to suck the top of it making me draw in my breath.

 

'Okay?' I inquire.

 

'Mmmm!' he mumbles, his mouth filled with my rigid shaft.

 

He's resting his head on my stomach as he works on my cock. In this position, I'm able to reach towards his boycock which I proceed to manipulate. My other hand is free to ruffle through his blond locks. He isn't exactly an expert but he gives it his best shot and it isn't long before I sense my orgasm is building.

 

'You're gonna make me cum if you keep doing that!' I mutter.

 

He pauses and looks up at me. 'I don't think I'll be able to swallow your spunk,' he says, 'I bet you squirt loads, don't you?'

 

'That's fine,' I reply, 'I'll let you know when I cum and you can finish by just wanking me if you like.

 

'Can I ask you something?' he asks.

 

'Go ahead.'

 

'Would it be too weird if I wanked your spunk all over my face?'

 

Tempted as I am to discover where this notion has come from I am too close to finishing now. I simply reply, 'Yeah, of course!'

 

He resumes his sucking and even uses a free hand to squeeze my balls. A minute later and I'm ready. 'It's cumming.' I gasp.

 

He keeps his head on my belly, replacing his mouth with his young fingers. He jerks me frenetically and I groan as I feel my orgasm summit. I cannot resist looking down at him as a string of cum splashes across his cheeks. Another spurt hits one of his eyes but thankfully he has closed it as is protected from its pungency. He daubs the remaining, smaller throbs of my spooge over his lips, using the head of my cock to smear the hot fluid around his mouth and chin.

 

Archie is clearly very turned on by the facial I have granted him. He lays back, 'Do me, quick!' he gulps. I suck and fondle him once more and within seconds he's bucking and gasping. His little balls are drawn up tight and his iron hard boner seems to swell in my mouth. I'm finally rewarded as I taste his little squirts of boyjuice. I savour the hot, sweet nectar and swallow every drop, licking the last morsels from his tender glans as his orgasm subsides.

 

'Phew!' trills Archie, his voice suddenly sounding more boyish than usual.

 

I look at him sitting there. It almost looks farcical. A schoolboy naked from the waist down, his white school shirt and tie dishevelled and untidy, his pretty face coated in semen that is beginning to trickle.

 

'You had better have a shower,' I suggest, 'You can't go home looking like that!'

 

We both laugh and I pass him some tissues to deal with the worst of the sticky mess.

 

'Shall we get pizza?' I call through the bathroom door as he showers.

 

'Yeah, great!' he calls.

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

 

Thanks for reading my story. I welcome feedback and can be found at:

puermalo1@protonmail.com

 

I'm also happy to correspond with like-minded individuals and will answer all correspondence.

 

It is my intention that this should be a single, one-off story but if there is sufficient interest (and even ideas!) than I will consider continuing it.