Date: Wed, 15 Jan 2020 12:43:11 +0000 From: Vintage Speedoboy Subject: Aussie Car Yard This story is entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons &c living or dead is purely unintentional and is not intended to reflect negatively on their characters. The Nifty archive is a wonderful resource of stories for the LGBT community which has stood the test of time since 1992. However, unlike an old book languishing on a shelf unread and gathering dust somewhere and not costing anything to be there, Nifty is a website which is totally reliant on public donations to keep operating so please find it in your hearts to send them a few greenbacks every once in a while and please do look in their shop window for that irrestistible bargain not available anywhere else, especially their excellent shoulder bag which is ideal for carrying your erotic books or electronic devices containing Nifty stories to read on trains, boats or planes. Signed Vintagespeedoboy. Aussie Car Yard G'day from Oz. My name's John Jones named after my father although all my mates call me Jack and having the name Jack Jones is a British term of endearment to being alone i.e. on your Jack Jones. I arrived here about 10 years ago with my parents when I was little with the government's assisted passage scheme from the old country on an old tub of a ship which arrived in Melbourne and since then my family's been called ten pound poms, it is this stigma which has stuck with me throughout school. It's December 1966, the year England won the world cup, there's a war going on in Vietnam and our Prime Minister Harold Holt, god bless his cotton baggy underpants has already sent our young blokes, some not older than myself over there. I am a 14 year old kid with dark coloured hair living with my parents in an old weatherboard house at Moonee Ponds which has been around for at least 100 years and the last days of my third secondary school year are about to come to an end with the ensuing long summer holidays and to make some pocket money I do a morning paper round before school on an old beat up bicycle which I put together from a huge pile of bikes in various stages of disrepair thanks to old Sam Lawson, an old duffer in his 60's who tends the dump at Sunshine, about three miles away which I heard about from the school's grapevine and walked there to sound the place out. It was one of those warm late spring days when all I wore was just a pair of cotton Stubbies shorts which had the leg hems taken up to the tops of my thighs exposing the bottom of my arse and my bottle green Speedo nylon swim trunks as underwear with a sheer black skin tight silky nylon sports vest tented out by my budding girly breasts with my large thimble sized nipples protruding like tiny cocks and totally visible through the sheer nylon carrying my old army haversack containing some money and my smokes consisting of a blue round two ounce Capstan cigarette tobacco tin containing tobacco and rolling papers and after leaving the house I rolled one up. Thankfully he's got a large toolkit which he keeps in the shed contained in a large steel toolbox which must weigh a ton containing a right mixture of old tools which people have discarded over the years and it's thanks to dad that I know the differences between the British Whitworth/BSF sizes, the American AF sizes and there's even some continental metric sizes contained within that box probably once owned by the owners of French, German and Italian cars which I must say that Dad has a penchant for Volkswagen beetles which he does a roaring trade in selling those really funny looking German cars. Old Sam hit the roof when I emptied the entire contents of his box onto the ground and sorted it all out into their relevant sizes that day otherwise I would be forever trying out whatever spanner or socket would fit whatever part I was either undoing or doing up and when I finished I cut up some cardboard and labeled each compartment with one of his felt markers, that way I quickly memorized what size spanner fits what nut &c. Old Sam thanked me for organizing his toolbox and helped me select the best parts from the huge pile of bicycle parts and he even took out his tape measure measuring me from the ground to my crotch feeling me up in the process to select a frame of the right size for me. I fathomed out that he must have been a top flight mechanical engineer in his younger days as once we assembled the bike, he made up the brake and the three speed gear cable for me from large reels of inner and outer cable and as to where he got the large tin containing brass nipples, ferrules, solder, flux &c is anyone's guess and he done a shit hot job using an old kerosene blowlamp and guaranteed that a nipple which he soldered on would never pull off. I suppose his secret was he tinned the end of the wire held in his vice then hit it with a small hammer flattening it into a small round disc which fits inside the brass nipple. The bike Sam and I constructed turned out to be a really good one and yet there's a boy who works at the same paper shop as me who tells me he used to own one like it. I did ask him what happened to it and he replied it was stolen and never found after which his dad bought him a secondhand one. I put it down to building the bike with different parts and those treasured cow horn handlebars Sam let me have from the pile. After I test rode the bike around the yard with Sam finally adjusting the height of the Brooks leather saddle, I was ready to ride home and was just about to give him some money which he refused and he invited me for a mug of tea with two Arnotts Tim Tams chocolate biscuits. After tea and biscuits, he began praising me telling me that I really was a good looking boy when he started feeling me all over complimenting me on my breasts which are about the size on a 12 year old girl when he stroked my nipples through the fabric of my vest which immediately had my balls tingling and my cock got so hard forming a huge tent in my shorts and spewing my love juices into my bottle green nylon Speedo swimming trunks which I prefer to wear instead of underpants owing to their silky sensuous feel on my skin plus I can get away with wearing these without drawing any suspicion from mum after she caught me wearing her panties. Not only that, after two years of having men and older teenagers plowing my arse with their cocks, my arse was pulsing with those cravings which could only be satisfied by having someone pounding me with his cock. Sam threw the latch on the shed door and lovingly stripped me naked; he sucked on both my nipples which felt really awesome muttering. "What I would give if only you could make milk for me." I replied. "Surely boys aren't supposed to make milk, aren't they?" "It takes a very special boy to make milk." This revelation was something I couldn't get my head around. He took out a tin of Vaseline and worked it into my arse with his finger which pleased him to see the gaping hole, a sign of a truly well stretched arse and when I finally saw his cock whilst he was smearing it with Vaseline, it was truly a huge monster about 10 inches long and fatter than mine with a huge bulbous head and me thinking. `Can I really take this huge monster?' He was ever so gentle as he pushed it right inside me whilst I bent over his desk, my cock was so hard now dripping my love juices onto his desk when he began thrusting into me uttering grunts whilst holding me by the hips and every one of his thrusts certainly excited some secret love button inside me and it didn't take long before I shot out a huge load of spunk all over his desk and the shed wall, this really was the biggest load ever to come out of my cock and I didn't have to wank it either. I felt my arse pulsing with delight which I fathomed must have taken him over the edge as I felt those lovely hot gushes of hot spunk flooding into me, it is this which finally satisfies those cravings which I experience inside my arse which for an old guy, Sam certainly delivered the goods. I rode away carrying his load inside my bowels deeply satisfied and riding a good bike to the Marybyrnong River where I stripped off to my Speedos and swam in the river washing off the sweat from my skin. I found a place in the water where I stood up, dropped my trunks and shat out the spunk contained within my bowels which also washed off any which leaked out into my trunks both from my cock and my arse hoping an opportunist greedy fish would come along for its feed. After a spell in the water, I got out and basked in the sun beside my bike to finally dry off. In my wallet I have the tow truck operator's card whose dad's mate who I call whenever I see a car accident hoping to collect a spotter's fee. Others too have the same idea as me and within minutes of an accident, loads of tow trucks turn up and their drivers start fighting over whose going to tow the wreck away when the cops usually turn up followed by an ambulance. Speaking of which, a ride in an ambulance costs a bloody fortune, for starters there's a 20 dollar flag fall and the ride costs a further dollar a mile which is why I have my both my ambulance and health insurance cards in my wallet. The seasons down under are the wrong way round with midsummer's day on the 21st of December even though the Aussies proudly insist that our seasons are correct and the Northern hemisphere's seasons are wrong begging the question of which way is up or down. It's a question I've asked Mr. James the science teacher about and believe it or not he couldn't honestly answer this question thus proving that no bludger really knows which way's up or down in space and the belief amongst small children is that Santa Claus is at the South pole which makes sense as it's closer to Australia plus its ideal for his holiday after he's finished delivering Christmas presents to the kids. Puberty's a right of passage for any hot blooded youngster which is a time when you go from being a sweet innocent child when you suddenly start growing and all sorts of things start happening to your body. For starters it's a time when men (and teachers) have carte blanch to root our arses with their cocks and filling our bowels with their spunk. `Has anyone ever told them it's impossible to get a boy pregnant?, oh yeah, they walk away with huge smiles on their faces whilst us boys have to put up with their spunk leaking into our undies, I don't mind this so much as long as the bloody perverts would pay us some money. I did wonder why Mr. Badcock, the P E and games master bought me three pairs of those specially tailored navy blue cotton P E shorts last Christmas. Mum did ask me about this and I told her that it's to give my legs unrestricted freedom whenever I ran, especially whenever I played footy. Mum took me to the doctors to have me checked out after she discovered that my undies bore a huge spunk stain after having farted in class and filled the back of my undies with a teacher's spunk, although she's seen my own spunk stains in my undies loads of times and told me that I was a growing lad and yet she demanded to know who rooted me up the arse. Hair grows around your cock and elsewhere, your balls get bigger and drop down and your cock gets a lot bigger and keeps cracking fat ones for no reason anytime day or night. Every time it does this it leaks my love juices like a tap into my undies. I'm proud of my cock which is the biggest one in my class as it's about eight inches long and as fat as a golf ball when its hard making me highly in demand for sex even though the other boys are jealous owing to its size and I can shoot heaps more spunk than anyone else which flies out at least six foot. Your breasts start to bud and become girly around your puffy nipples and in my case I have also grown girly breasts with nipples the size of mum's thimble which are big enough that all my mates keep on at me asking when I'm going to start wearing a bra? The one day which has to be the proudest day of your life after having wanked off your cock countless times is the day when your spunk shoots out of your cock giving you immense pride? That's when you find out there's no shortage of men or older boys who want to suck out every drop your balls can make. The one part of our school uniform all the boys hate wearing is the regulation navy blue swimming trunks during our swimming lessons which are associated with girls navy blue knickers which is why every boy wears their Speedos instead whenever we swim at the local Queens Park pool, (where you can always hook up with another boy and wank each other off in the cubicles). The Marybyrnong River's another place good for hookups or at the beach and it didn't take boys, especially those like me who love wearing our nylon Speedo swimming briefs as undies and therefore not arousing our mums' suspicions although the really daring boys tend to wear their mum's or older sister's panties. Either way, the beauty of them is they give your skin a lovely caress owing to the silky nylon which is why we all love wearing them despite our cocks constantly popping fat ones, especially in class and leaking our love juices. I'm one of those boys who keeps having the dreaded wet dreams all the time, this got so bad that mum gets really racked off by having to wash the sheets, my pyjamas and undies every time my cock's flooded them with spunk whilst I slept that she now sends me to bed wearing medical incontinence pants with a nappy which I found totally degrading but I have no choice in the matter. School's an old wooden building which will either catch fire if there's a bushfire or float away like Noah's Ark if there's a flood with a strict uniform code wearing short trousers, (They're hoping we'll become smartly dressed true blue Aussies in the world of business) fat chance of that as all our school ever turns out is factory fodder. I have to say with hand on my heart that dads not like the rest, in fact he's a proper businessman and I'm proud of him as he owns a used car yard. Whether he's doing well happens to be another story and he's known all over Melbourne as. `Jack the bomb's used car yard,' bearing in mind that a bomb in Australia is a term of endearment for an old decrepit car and all the cars dad has in his yard are bombs, except for one. Despite this, he does a roaring trade with teenagers, students, migrants fresh off the boat (or plane) and old age pensioners. (Sometimes dad sends me down to the arrivals terminal holding up a sign advertising his car yard.) Whenever a ship comes in, there's loads of trades people waiting at the Ocean terminal holding up signboards advertising their vacant jobs, (during the holidays they get their kids to do it). They do this so they don't have to pay to advertise in `The age' the local Melbourne newspaper. Just before the summer holidays Mum collared me saying. "Your father wants you helping out down at the yard during the holidays," I helped dad last year cleaning cars, checking oil levels, tyre pressures &c as well as being his fetch and carry. (Thank god he's got an old sack truck despite it having seen better days.) The one rite of passage for a teenager is the day he or she gets their licence and dad's promised me driving lessons so that I take (and pass) my test quickly despite having to display P plates for a year during which is a time of careful driving so as not to get caught for a traffic offence and lose your licence. Sometimes dad sends me over to the local gas station with a jerry can which I wheel over on the sack truck, there are times when the gas station hasn't got standard and I have to fill up with super which is more expensive and dad always goes nuts and docks it from the money he pays me for filling the jerry can with super. I just wish that gas station would get their act together and stock up with more standard. The last few years he's been doing up an old British racing green Triumph TR2 sports car in his spare time and he's done a shit hot job doing it and the car now looks like new. I know that Mr. Breedlove, the school's headmaster was looking to buy a sports car, probably as a toy and when I told him that it was coming up for sale, he ripped into me saying. "Look sonny, I don't deal with car yards." I replied. "Well at least go and look at the car and you won't be disappointed." Dad got the phone call from the headmaster wanting to see the car and sent me over the gas station, this time to expressly fill up the jerry can with super. He connected the battery charger to charge up the battery despite the length of time he's spent sorting the car out which includes a recon engine, clutch and gearbox, steering and suspension &c. he's put his life and soul into that car and understandably he wants top dollar for it. Everything works as it should do on that car so after filling the tank from the jerry can, I spent the whole morning polishing an already polished car before putting the dust cover back over it and sitting in the tea room for a mug of tea with two Arnotts Tim tams biscuits and rolling a smoke from my blue Capstan tobacco tin. I had only just finished my smoke when he turned up for the big reveal. When dad pulled the dust cover off the car, he was blown away and yet he criticized dad for having a Standard badge displayed on the bonnet which, believe it or not is correct for this car which dad corrected him on. He sat in the car gazing at the instruments which reminded him of an aeroplane's cockpit; he turned the key and started up the four cylinder 1991cc tuned Standard Vanguard engine fed by two SU carburetturs started up with a healthy exhaust note. He blipped the accelerator revving the engine twice before letting it settle down to a nice even tick over. I saw that he was thrilled to bits with this car and knew he certainly wouldn't be getting his trousers or shirt dirty by sitting inside her when dad said. "Sonny, jump in and enjoy your ride." I got in the passenger seat and belted up when he reversed the car out of the workshop, onto the road and drove to his house in a side street off the Gardenvale road in Caulfield South. On the way to his house he stoked my right leg with his left hand with a touch so sensual it gave me goose bumps, I felt a really odd nice sensation in my girly breasts and my nipples got really hard, my cock got so hard it strained against the silky nylon of my Speedos, the foreskin retracted by itself and my love juices started leaking into the silky nylon. Those eight inches of fat teen schoolboy root stick made a tent like a log inside my shorts with a wet patch where my juices leaked through both the silky nylon and cotton that I wasn't far short of shooting off my spunk and flooding both garments, thankfully he took his hand away after feeling my package through the silky nylon up the leg of my shorts leaving me with those intense cravings for cocks inside my arse which have developed owing to the huge number that's already been up there. After pulling up in his drive and switching off the engine, we entered his old weatherboard house and sat in the lounge when he poured me a beer, after taking a sip and putting the glass down, he asked. "As we're not at school now, you can smoke if you wish." I was glad I brought my haversack along containing some money and smokes which rode in the car's foot well; I rolled one up, lit it and passed him the tin where he did likewise complimenting me on my choice of tobacco. He passed me a magazine containing photos of naked teenage boys in woodland, camp ground, river, lake and seaside settings doing numerous activities and just being themselves when he asked me. "How would you like to spend a holiday with boys like these?" Thoughts of spending a week out in the bush naked with other boys did strike me as odd and yet something inside me fired me up wanting to go despite having to use gallons of insect repellant to keep the bugs away. Seeing those naked teens in his magazine really fuelled my lust. I've seen plenty of girly magazines before and wanked over them but this was my first time seeing one with naked teenage boys, my cock got really hard and started leaking my juices adding to the wet patch and it was twitching like crazy when he grasped it through my shorts with a wry smile of approval saying. "I've been wanting your cock for some time now," then he pulled my shorts right off looking in approval at my Speedos before he untied the draw cord and I raised myself up to assist him taking them off and finally revealing my huge cock with its exposed bulbous head coated in my leaking love juices as my foreskin had already retracted. He gazed with approval gasping at its size then took it into his mouth sucking on it like a lollipop and teasing the head with his tongue as he stroked my hardened nipples through my vests silky nylon when within seconds I shot a huge load into his mouth in several powerful gushes which he sucked in hard and swallowed as I was assaulted by an orgasm so intense I was screaming my head off kicking and writhing begging him to stop and was highly relieved when he finished giving me a highly intense blow job but he wasn't finished with me yet. After a kissing and cuddling session, he led me into his bedroom, pulled my vest off gazing with approval at my naked form; he caressed my girly breasts teasing my nipples saying. "I really like seeing these on you; they're what I would expect to see on a 12 year old girl," He sucked on each nipple which felt truly awesome inside my breasts sending electricity straight to my balls and despite nothing coming out, I secretly wished then that they would produce milk. He stripped naked and beckoned me to lie across the bed on my back, he gasped when he saw the gaping hole in my arse and knew straight away that loads of large cocks have already been inside there and filling my bowels with their owners spunk and he was about to thrust a huge monster of a cock which had to be at least 10 inches which certainly dwarfed mine, I knew I was about to take the biggest cock in my entire young life. He smeared a thick scented liquid over his cock and using a huge medical syringe minus its needle, he emptied the syringe deep inside my arse when moments later I felt a lovely warm tingling feeling inside just before he slowly pushed his huge monster inside me which surprisingly went straight in. He thrust into me with a gentle pleasing motion which definitely excited my secret love button inside; he was uttering loads of filthiest expletives and asking. "Are you going to make milk in your tits for me?" This revelation bugged the hell out of me whilst I thought. `If you want tit milk, why don't you get a good woman?' I became surprised at how quickly my balls recharged with more spunk and wanked my cock when I felt those highly intense sensations, especially as its head was now so sensitive that I shot several huge squirts of spunk across to the far side of the bed as I felt his huge monster blast shit loads deep inside my bowels like there's no tomorrow. I had taken the biggest load of my entire life and he shot so much inside me that loads leaked back out past his cock which I felt running down the insides of my thighs and when he finally pulled out, he sent me straight to the toilet telling me to shit out his spunk which came out in thunderous farts like a severe case of diarrhea. Lastly I sat on his couch naked with a towel under me to avoid returning with after leakage whilst he made a pot of tea with Arnotts Tim tams chocolate biscuits finishing by rolling a smoke then we finally dressed and just before we left, I heard a key being inserted into the front door lock which opened followed by a bespectacled blond haired teenager of about 16 wearing round lens spectacles entering the living room, he sat down and bummed a smoke from my tin when Mr. Breedlove said. "Jack, I would like to introduce Dylan Masters, he's a placement from the youth prison system." I thought. "Bloody hell, he's got a criminal lodging with him." I returned to dad's car yard with Mr. Breedlove where he finalized the deal for an undisclosed sum making dad a very happy bunny indeed. He sent me out for my lunch and when I finished I began washing down an American Ford V8 pilot and yet I felt there was times when Dylan was messing with my head. I tried to fathom him out and yet he looked so innocent even though there was little doubt that he was his bedmate wondering how on earth did Mr. Breedlove manage to have a youngster from a youth prison lodging with him?. Having washed down the Ford, I vacuumed out the car's interior, emptied out all the junk with the ashtray then lifted the bonnet ready to blast inside the engine compartment with dad's `Steaming demon' steam cleaner which he does as a matter of course to check for oil leaks. I looked over the Ford flathead V8 side valve engine and knew straight away this was no ordinary donk. For starters it had a pair of Aluminium Edelbrock heads and the carburettur with its air filter was different, this engine looked like one from a hot rod, dad smiled at me saying. "Son, you're looking at a 3/8 by 3/8 killer engine. It's been bored out 3/8" and stroked 3/8" giving it extra cubes as well as having been tuned," he sat in the left hand driver's seat and started the engine which revved up with a throaty roar before settling down to a nice even tick over, he stood a cigarette on top of the air cleaner which stayed there bolt upright saying. "That's how smooth these old yank cars run, it's also the yardstick which good tune ups are judged by." He looked around the engine bay looking for oil leaks with his lead light and inspection mirror noting with satisfaction there were none then a quick look under the to check for transmission oil leaks before finally stopping the engine and displaying a price tag on the windscreen. I had just made a pot of tea for us and lit up our smokes when a disgruntled teenage lad walked in carrying a Volkswagen beetle cylinder head, he showed it to dad saying. "That car you sold me last week's blown a spark plug and I want it fixed." Dad inspected the head then said. "Seeing as you started by fixing your mate's bike's cylinder head, off you go and remember, these use a shortened insert, you'll find them in the package from Volkswagen." I put the head in a vice with a rag to protect it, pulled out dad's kit resembling a metallic blue socket set box stenciled, `Bollhoff helicoil fur Volkswagen.' I took out the tap, assembled the insertion tool, drilled out the damaged threads with a 9/16" drill through a tubular spacer which sits on the washer seat which he had made by an engineer to make sure I drilled the hole straight then using a second tubular spacer with loads of oil on the tap, I tapped out the hole, blew it out with the air line, fitted the correct insert and finally checked it with a spark plug, job done. I handed the head back to the lad but not before dad said to him. "You owe the kid five dollars," which he begrudgingly gave me, I replied. "Look mate, I've just saved your head." I mentally thanked dad for having previously taught me how to use this kit although I did suspect it came out of their back door, I knew this kit had to be worth heaps as he always brings it home with him and it's turned out to be a little money maker and one of his regular customers is the local Honda dealer at nearby Ascot Vale plus he has a number of Armstrong kits for the thread repairs he does as a sideline in the evenings. It was last year I met some kids riding an old stripped down Honda 50 at the dyke when the sump plug fell out dropping a pool of oil onto the concrete, they had obviously tried to glue it back but it didn't hold for long. They pushed it round to my house and dad fixed it for them using his kit although he did have to clean off the glue with his bench grinder fitted with a wire brush wheel. Having fixed it, It was Dylan Masters who I first met who taught me ride that bike (or should I call it a pop pop) at the dyke which was my first ever time riding a motorcycle which was a highly memorable experience, now I can't wait to get my licence. Shortly after the lad left with the Volkswagen cylinder head, a middle aged smartly dressed man arrived by tram and paid cash for the Ford V8 pilot which was one of dad's quickest sales as the car had barely stood in the yard for a day and I got the rat for not having been taken for a ride in it. The next sale was a 1963 MK 1 Hillman imp, this was a beautiful little car, low mileage and it still had the plastic covers on the seats. Dad did tell me that it was the first one which arrived in Australia; being a small car it makes an ideal runabout in the city. It was the last sale of the day which was bought by a man in his mid twenties fresh off the plane from the old country. After a shower, change of clothes and evening meal. Dylan rang me inviting me for a sleepover. Seeing it was the weekend, I grabbed my overnight bag with my swim gear, partly dismantled my bike and caught the 59 tram to the city connecting with the 64 tram alighting at the intersection of North and Hawthorn roads. I reassembled the bike and rode the short distance to Mr. Breedlove's house pleasantly surprised that he's gone away for the weekend leaving Dylan home alone, no sooner had I entered the house and wheeled the bike through to the back room, we fell into a lover's embrace passionately hugging, kissing and humping our groins into each other and both our cocks really were hard as nails so we didn't waste any time stripping naked and jumping into Mr. Breedlove's double bed. What I hadn't expected was Dylan pouring his heart out to me but there was no doubting that his heart was ripped right out of him and all he could do was cry his eyes out. His father was in Pentridge prison for robbery and ordered to be deported after serving his sentence and his mum was desperately struggling to take care of him until she was evicted from their housing commission flat making him a ward of the state when he rebelled and ran away only to live by his wits stealing food and rough sleeping until he was caught, tried and sentenced to juvenile prison. He was one of Mr. Breedlove's students and when his letter from the youth prison which was a cry for help arrived on his desk, he pulled out all the stops to save him signing his adoption papers and re-admitting him back to the school for the start of the 1967 school year in February when we'll be classmates once again sat next to each other as he's the same age as me. There's an old saying that love will overcome all obstacles, although one half of me was saying not to take advantage of him, we've been mates and the best of fuck buddies since our first day of secondary school and Dylan's seven inches of hugely fat teen boy fuck rod was probing my belly as my fuck rod was also probing his and Mr. Breedlove's bottle of lube was on top of his bedside cabinet waiting to be used. I was begging to take his cock up my arse even though its girth is fatter than mine making it a really tight fit up my well used arse; I was one of the few boys who could take him thanks to being broken in by adult men at a St Kilda boy brothel and the teachers so I reached for the lube passing it to him and within those precious moments the old Dylan I knew came back to me. I wanked his cock a few strokes which got it really hard and leaking his love juices then sucked on it like a lollipop teasing its huge head and piss slit with my tongue before we got out of bed and he lubed up his cock and my arse. I bent down over the bed with my towel underneath when he slowly pushed his hugely fat fuck rod up my arse stretching it right out. I let him get settled inside me before he held me by the hips and began thrusting into me. He was always very vocal whenever having sex and this time was no exception as he was uttering the filthiest of expletives, admiring my girly breasts begging me to make milk for him, mewling like a kitten and wishing to make me pregnant. He told me his secret that his mum breast fed him right through from the day he was born swearing me to secrecy, a promise I have never broken and understandably he's sorely missing her life nourishing liquid from her bosoms and is hoping for me to be his substitute. I felt his fuck rod getting even fatter with powerful twitches when he took one last thrust right inside me when I felt his hot load flooding my bowels only this time it came in long well spaced out hot gushes and I knew I had taken his biggest ever load to date which he's saved specially for me. This was the best hot load ever to flood inside me delivered from the cock of the one I truly loved and I rewarded him by shooting off a hands free load of spunk which flew out like a water pistol and went everywhere. We just laid together in a lovely embrace in the satisfying sleepy afterglow of sex where he sucked like a baby on my nipples which responded by becoming obscenely huge making my balls tingle with delight with my cock hard as nails leaking my love juices but it was those lovely sensations inside my breasts which had me wishing for these magic moments to continue. I felt a wonderful sensation coursing right through me which has never happened before when he looked at me in total amazement, that's when I saw a bead of white liquid on the other nipple. He sucked from both of them and I thanked my lucky stars to give him what he really wanted despite being only a teaspoonful. This was my special gift to him from the god Eros and I felt honoured to be the one having given it to him. I got dressed and rode my bike to a nearby fish and chip shop ordering two lots of fish, chips and peas for our evening meals finishing by him making two mugs of hot sweet Milo chocolate malted drink then returned to the bed for a blissful night together. We both slept dead to the world and I felt contented to have Dylan next to me in the same bed which for once it was nice to see him at peace, especially after what he's been through. I woke up the following morning which was a Sunday to find him sucking my breasts which pleased him as he managed to draw out a teaspoonful of my love liquid from each breast and both our cocks were rock hard. I did managed to taste a bead of my precious liquid which really tasted delicious, it was like the nectar of Eros and yet he told me it was much nicer than what his mum fed him from her bosoms. I began to think perhaps there's a purpose for this. It was my turn to plunge my huge fuck rod inside his arse and boy, he was begging for it like hell and to see that wanton look on his face was pure delight. Even after lubing up, I couldn't get it in there fast enough and there was no doubting that this boy had to be the hottest satyr maniac on the planet, I could only describe his desire for cock as insatiable and wondered if I would ever be able to satisfy him even with my enormously huge size which I'm blessed with and yet he's taken so many cocks up him that mine just slid into him with ease. I began thrusting into him and was pleasantly surprised by the strength of his arse muscles that he brought me off in no time flat when I flooded him with another of my huge loads which leaked out past my cock. The sensations were so intense I felt like screaming my head off and I even felt it inside my arse which twitched in time with every squirt of spunk erupting from my cock plus I had those wonderful sensations inside my breasts and found a drop of my precious liquid on each nipple which I scooped off with a finger and swallowed. We showered together even though it was a tight squeeze to stand in his bath. We had to wait for the water to heat up after he lit the antiquated wood chip bath heater having poured a drop of metho onto the wood chips before lighting it then swiveling the burner tray back inside the body of the heater and we were both naked throughout and remained naked whilst cooking and eating breakfast and when we finished we rolled up and had our smokes. We dressed in our shorts and vests, stashed our towels into my haversack and rode to Elwood beach on bikes. Dylan had to use Mr. Breedlove's ancient WW1 army bike which I can only describe as a real boneshaker with only the one brake operated by a rod from the one handlebar lever. This bike was so decrepit with worn tyres that I feared he may cop a puncture. We did make it to the beach, locked up the bikes, stripped to our Speedos under our shorts and swam out to a large wooden platform about 200 yards from the beach, climbed up and basked in the sun. I thanked my lucky stars that he was a good swimmer and if there's one good thing which he came away from the youth prison with, he was trained for and passed his Bronze Medallion giving him a real feather in his hat whereby when he's 16, he could work as a lifeguard anywhere, either on a beach or any of the suburban swimming pools around the city. We watched a powerfully built man swimming out to the platform with a powerful front crawl stroke like an Olympic swimmer and joined us on the platform. He had to be at least 60 years old wearing the same bottle green Speedos as me and boy was I glad to meet this man who was a top flight engineer who worked at the Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology although you wouldn't think so when we finally left the beach and helped him to push start his car. We saw him trying to start his old left hand drive Morris Minor, one of the earliest models with a split windscreen powered by a side valve four cylinder engine which had to be at least 16 years old when he saw us on the bikes and called out asking to give him a push. He selected second gear before we gave the car a good push when he dropped the clutch and the engine fired blowing a plume of blue smoke out of the exhaust. Dylan said. "The battery's crook, the engine smokes, the steering wheel's on the wrong side of the car, this car's a bloody bomb," I burst out laughing as it was so funny when it dawned on me that one of dad's car yard window stickers was displayed in the back window, the old bloke looked at me thoughtfully then said. "I know that face anywhere, you're Jack the bomb's kid," when Dylan too burst out laughing saying. "The old duffer's got you." He passed me his card and when I read it, I realized he was Mr. Breedlove's next door neighbour saying. "Pop over anytime and I'll make you both a pot of tea." We rode back when calamity struck; there was a loud bang when Mr. Breedlove's bike's rear tyre blew out in Martin Street just before the Nepean Highway, a quick look revealed that the rear tyre was beyond fixing which meant pushing the bike home. I got off and wheeled my bike alongside Dylan and once back in the back room I turned the bike upside down, took the wheel out, removed the tyre and tube and that's as far as we got as where were we going to get a tyre and inner tube on a Sunday with hardly any money so we left the bike in pieces in disgust and went next door. Phil McCaverty answered the door letting us into his weatherboard house and as he promised made us a pot of tea with chocolate biscuits which we were glad of. After sitting down Dylan explained his predicament when Phil got the phone book out. I told him about building my bike at Sunshine dump and he looked through the phone book then dialed the number, surprisingly the place was open and he was kind enough to drive us there so I grabbed the wheel and my emergency repair kit hoping to god the Morris would start even though it was parked outside facing down the hill. We got in, he turned the key, selected second gear with the foot on the clutch, rolled downhill when he released the clutch and the engine fired. I saw the fuel gauge indicated half tank and knew he had enough gas for the journey hoping he wouldn't stall the car at traffic lights. Thankfully the drive there was uneventful and the old duffer in charge of the dump let us loose on the pile of bicycle parts and I soon found a good tyre and tube on a wheel and changed it over in a jiffy. Finally he blew up the tyre with an old brass stirrup pump which he blew it up as hard as a rock. Phil gave him a couple of dollars and started the car which surprised me as it fired up on the key despite struggling to turn the engine over. I said to Phil. "Before you leave this place, ask him if he's got a battery as this one's crook." He led us to a huge pile of old car batteries when I saw a clean one of the same size, Phil grabbed it and changed it over, it too fired up the car straight away and he drove out of the yard leaving his old battery behind. As it turns out, we both did each other a good turn, he got a serviceable battery for his car and I fixed Mr. Breedlove's bike. We stayed with Phil as he offered to cook a Sunday roast which was worth waiting for to sate our hungry bellies albeit with a small chook although he made up the rest in veggies and roast spuds. Lastly he had a Christmas pudding which he steamed in the same old pressure cooker he used to cook the veggies with, if there's one good thing about it, it's the heaps of time saved on cooking. The best way I could describe Phil's house is a time capsule from the last century albeit festooned with motorcycle memorabilia but the best was yet to come when he led us out to the garage containing his small machine shop and a covered motorcycle when he gave us the big reveal. Parked on a paddock stand was his Manx Norton featherbed framed BSA Gold Star race bike which hadn't seen daylight for several years brought over from the UK minus engine and transmission, one of the many Manx Norton's whose engines etc ended up in 500cc racing cars which became the basis of many specials. Phil stripped the whole bike down to modify the frame's right hand down tube to clear the BSA's oil pump housing and shoehorned an early BSA Gold Star engine and transmission using a set of Converta equipment duralumin engine plates made by P Kershaw in Yorkshire England. He was proud of his machine and understandably he didn't want to sell it. I had to ask him. "Why don't you put this machine on the road as it surely will be a real blast?" "I've been meaning to do that for ages but you know how things are when work and everything else only serves to louse things up." We finally settled down in his couch on either side of him eating our Sunday dinners out of trays whilst `The guns of Navarone' was on the telly where we both experienced the pleasure of his hands stroking our thighs finding their way up our shorts and feeling our rock hard nylon encased leaking cocks leading up to him stripping us totally naked, sucking our cocks and drinking both our offerings of spunk which he drank like a greedy cat. He wanted us sat there naked saying the praises for being such a lovely pair of lads begging us to sleep the night with him. I had to call dad and thankfully he accepted the sleepover with Dylan but my paper round the following morning entailed an early 5am rise. Dylan and I spent the rest of the day naked in Phil's house watching the telly and being fondled by him and my girly breasts with huge nipples certainly caught his attention when he started fondling and cupping them like a girl. He placed his hand underneath to gauge them by his fingers finding that they stick out by three of his fingers from my ribs to the tip of my nipple guessing them to be about a B cup size, owing to his ministrations, I felt those lovely warm sensations inside my breasts and my nipples began tingling and having felt this before with Dylan in Mr. Breedlove's bed I knew there and then that my love liquid had built up inside them and was seeking release. Both of them were now giving my breasts their full attention and all our cocks were fully hard. Phil only wore his Bonds underpants and we both saw that his cock was indeed a lot bigger than mine with a huge wet spot where his pre-cum leaked out and his monstrously huge cock was jerking in time with his heartbeat when beads of milk leaked out of both nipples. Phil felt this and looked at his thumb in astonishment asking. "What's all this then? Your nipples are leaking," then he licked it off his finger eliciting a hum and saying. "You taste truly delicious, is it what I think it is?" "Yes it is, it's our little secret, I make milk just like my mum only there's not a lot there." "Nevertheless, you truly have a gift my lad." He began sucking the contents of my breast and not to be outdone Dylan sucked on the other one, by this time my cock was on a hair trigger and their suckling had my balls tingling with delight quickly followed by my cock erupting like a volcano squirting spunk everywhere without even touching it followed by Phil sucking out whatever spunk remained in my cock and having tasted both my liquids fired up his lust to new heights sending Dylan to his bedroom to fetch his lube, dropping his underpants revealing a monster cock about a foot long dwarfing Dylan's golf ball sized girth. He lubed up his cock whilst directing Dylan to stretch out my arse before using an inflatable dildo with a rubber pump resembling the type used to prime outboard marine engines with a release valve and boy that thing really stretched my arse right out before he deflated it and pulled it out whilst Dylan knelt beside him slowly wanking his cock before lubing my arse. Phil bade me to bend over the couch then slowly pushed his huge fuck rod inside me and boy I felt it really was a tight fit inside me. Just a few moments ago I wondered if I could take that thing inside me and now he had it right in which certainly was sating my cravings for cock inside there. He bade Dylan to roll up a cigarette laced with cannabis thankfully having learned this in the youth prison, he lit it up, took a huge drag then passed it to me to enjoy whilst Phil pounded the hell out of my arse with his huge monster when, just like a teenager he shot a huge load of spunk deep within my bowels which felt truly awesome in there when my cock erupted again like a volcano squirting spunk onto the back of the couch totally surprising me at the speed which my balls had recharged. That roll up cigarette made me feel sleepy and the last thing I remembered was Phil tucking me into his double bed, I was dead to the world totally unaware of their night of passion with me fast asleep in the same bed as them going at it like a pair of rabbits when I was woken up by the hugely loud Canadian made Westclox repeater alarm clock going off at five am. I was up with the lark fully refreshed to face the day; Phil had already heated the water in his wood chip bath heater for my shower whilst tasking Dylan to cook my breakfast after which I partially dismantled my bike to fit inside Phil's car on the back seat and surprise, surprise, it started right away on the key before he reversed it out of his drive. He drove me across the city dropping me outside the paper shop leaving me to reassemble my bike, thank him and wave goodbye then collect my news bag of papers for my round. I cycled along those suburban streets putting newspapers into their mail boxes on a lovely sunny Monday morning wondering about whatever adventures were in store for me with the challenges of working at dad's used car yard through the holidays. The end?