Date: Sat, 23 Jan 2021 18:07:13 +0000
From: Vance Von Jungsburg <vereinington@protonmail.com>
Subject: Blue Maserati (Gay/Adult-Youth)

The following story is fictional. None of the events or characters are
real. Please do not read if you are under 18 or if the content is illegal
in your jurisdiction.

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contact me at vereinington@protonmail.com.

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BLUE MASERATI

by Vance Von Jungsburg


I watched Jo's shirtless sun-bronzed back retreat down the stone paved
walkway in front of my "villa." His narrow waist and his
two-sizes-too-small red soccer shorts, taut against the mounds of his
12-year-old boy butt, were turning me on, despite the fact that I'd just
deposited a load of my seed in that elegant and hairless ass.  I imagined
my viscous discharge sloshing around in his innards as he navigated down
the rustic stepping stones toward the road below. Josip usually showered
after I fucked him, but his mother had texted him as we were lying in bed
after our lovemaking. He quickly pulled on his tiny bikini underwear and
red shorts and was out the door, telling me he was needed at home. At
least that's what I think he said. Jo's sixth grade English was almost
unintelligible, but that added to his charm.

I sat down at the small round table outside my front door and texted
Marta to bring me a coffee and a small glass of Rakija, the fruity brandy
I'd fallen in love with the first time I'd visited the Makarska Riviera
three years ago.  The fact that I'd discovered the boys of Makarska on
that same trip may have led to my fondness for the brandy.

The small tiled veranda in front of my house afforded me a view down my
steep front garden which descended to the road below. A few more houses
on the hillside were low enough that they didn't block my view of the
turquoise Adriatic Sea some 250 meters away. I took a sip of my coffee
and noticed someone on a bicycle pedaling leisurely past my property on
the lower road.

"Bok, Marko!" I yelled, using the local greeting. The boy ditched the
bicycle at my front gate and climbed the steep steps toward me.

"Hi, James," Marko said in English as he ascended the last series of
steps up to the veranda. He was wearing calf length trousers and a
sleeveless Adidas jersey.

"Sit!" I said.  "Do you want some lemonade or Rakija?"  Marko had
just turned 16, but there was no minimum drinking age in Croatia. I knew
Marko would opt for the brandy.

I texted Marta to bring another glass.

"So James, how's it going?"  Marko asked me. His English was sprinkled
with American idioms. He had practiced the "hard R" sound distinctive
to the generic midwestern American accent, though he wouldn't have been
mistaken for a native English speaker.


***

Marko was the first boy I'd met in Croatia three years earlier. I worked
for the parent company of a large app developer that had found great
success in smart phone gaming and was opening offices all over the world.
Since my grandmother was Croatian, I'd volunteered to spend four months
in Zagreb opening an office, despite the fact that I didn't speak a word
of Croatian. But nobody else at Corporate did either. We'd found a
Croatian national through Linkedin who would put together a team and I
would oversee him.

My company was paying for my apartment, auto lease and per diem, but when
I started looking online at cars for lease in Croatia I fell for a
Maserati Granturismo, which was beyond what the corporation was willing
to pay. I negotiated a deal with the company where I would make up the
monthly difference out of pocket, and two days after arriving in Zagreb I
was driving an Ocean Blue Granturismo. It wasn't the kind of car I would
have driven back in the Bay Area, but for a four month adventure in a
strange land it was perfect.

A couple weeks into my stay, I decided to spend the weekend in Makarska.
Several people in Zagreb had recommended I see the beautiful coastal area
three hours south of the city.  I drove down Friday night and checked
into a small boutique hotel a few blocks from the beach.  The next
morning I planned to hit the sea shore and do a little boy watching. I
hoped the kids in this area still wore the skimpy speedos that had been
declining in popularity around the world for decades.

On Saturday morning I put on swim trunks and asked the front desk clerk
about the closest beach and how long it would take to get there. He told
me it was a 20 minute walk to the beach, but a 40 minute walk back, as
the route was all uphill. I opted to drive.

I had scarcely pulled into the small paid parking lot across from the
beach when a young teenager rode up to my driver side door on a bicycle.

The boy said something in Croatian, but I only understood the word
"Maserati."

"Ne govorim hravatski,"  I said, indicating I didn't speak the
language.

"Ah. Do you speak English?" he asked with a slight American accent.  He
was easy to understand, unlike a lot of Croatians who relied on their
meager High School English to communicate with me.

"Yes, I'm from California," I said. Telling people I was from America
got a mixed reaction, but telling them I was from California was always
met with positive enthusiasm in Croatia.

"Oh! I love the Golden State Warriors! Steph Curry is number one!" he
exclaimed.

I eyed the young NBA fan as he sat on his black bicycle, one foot on the
ground and one on a pedal. I judged him to be 13 or 14; his narrow torso
and lean arms and legs were that of a kid just entering adolescence.  He
had a mop of unkempt brown hair that looked like it was a couple weeks
past due for a haircut. He was dressed in a thin white t-shirt that fit
his upper body snugly, and a pair of black track pants with Adidas
stripes down the sides.  Long dark lashes ringed his greenish hazel eyes
which fixed my eyes directly as he spoke.

"That's a really nice Maserati," he said. "Granturismo - you must be
rich!"

I laughed, but didn't tell the kid it was short term lease.  I'd only
met this boy ten seconds earlier and already wanted to impress him.

Then I did something completely out of character, something I never would
have done in the US.

"Do you want to ride in it?" I asked.

The boy's eyes grew wide but he didn't say anything.  I thought perhaps
I'd broken a social taboo - maybe paranoia about "stranger danger" was
as strong in Croatia as it was in America.

The kid swung his leg over his bike and walked it over to a metal
railing, then locked its back wheel to a post.

I watched as he walked to the passenger door. I clicked the unlock button
just before he pulled it open and sat down.

He reached over to shake my hand.

"Marko," he said. He had a firm grip.

"I'm James," I replied. "Where do you want to go?"

"How `bout up to Biokovo?" Marko suggested.

I didn't know what he was talking about so I told him to guide me.

The road to Biokovo was twisty, steep and a bit scary. The Granturismo's
throaty growl shook the narrow valley as I upshifted and downshifted the
six speed gearbox through the straightaways and turns.  Marko laughed
without inhibition when the sudden acceleration on a straight stretch of
road would push him back into his seat.

I couldn't keep my eyes off the kid. His face was smooth and blemish
free with a slight sun-bronzed tint.  His lean legs and arms were shapely
and long. I kept stealing glances at his crotch area, hoping to get an
idea about what lay beneath the thin fabric of his track pants.

As the kilometers passed the road narrowed and became less maintained.  I
pulled off at a gravel turnaround that had a low metal barrier separating
it from the steep, rocky mountainside below.

"I think this is as far as I want to go," I said. I opened my door to
stretch my legs. Seeing this, Marko got out, too.

We looked over the expansive vista.

After a few seconds Marko broke the silence. "James, do you want to
party with me?"

I didn't say anything as I processed what he was asking.  Party? That
was a euphemism prostitutes used all over the world. Or did he mean
something else? Had he noticed me perving on him?

"Party...?" I asked as I looked at him.

"You know, spend some time with me.  Just to have some fun," Marko
explained.

"I like you, but I could get into big trouble partying with someone your
age," I said.  I regretted having to say it, but I didn't want to take
chances, especially in a country where I was unfamiliar with the customs
and conventions.

"I'm 15!" he said.

I looked at him, still puzzled.

"It's legal to make sex at 15 in Croatia," Marko said.

Now I knew what "party" meant, but I was still unsure if the boy was
expecting to be paid for his participation. I tried to feel him out.

"Do you party with a lot of guys?" I asked.

"No, I only been with two guys. - my school friend and a guy I meet on
the beach. I was going to the beach to look for that guy or someone else,
then I saw your Maserati."

I felt the blood rushing to my groin. This kid was cute and looked young
for 15. And he'd gone to the beach to cruise for sex.

"Do you want to come back to my hotel?" I asked Marko.

"Yes, I would like," he said.

I couldn't stop talking on the way back to Makarska. I'm sure it was
the nerves. I told Marko all about myself, a 42 year old tech exec from
America and why I was in Croatia. I asked Marko about himself and what
sort of things he liked to do.  Aside from picking up strange men, he was
into computers, martial arts and going to the beach.

When the winding road widened and became less curvy I felt safe to put my
hand on Marko's left thigh just above his knee.  His skinny leg felt
warm and taut through the thin material of his track pants.  Wings of
excitement filled my chest. I gently stroked his thigh and slowly moved
my hand higher. Marko visibly leaned back in his seat and extended his
legs. I wasn't sure if I was imagining it, but his groin area seemed
more ample than it had earlier, like a loaf of bread which had puffed up
after baking in an oven.

Marko had come right out and said it - he wanted to party with me. My
hand was inches from his crotch. I knew that if I didn't do it now, I'd
never do it. My hand went to the groin of his track pants and grasped the
firm, warm bulge. I could feel his erection, long and full. I traced its
length with my fingers and felt the knob of flesh at its end. Marko
pressed his lower body against my hand. This was an affirmation that I
was doing what Marko wanted.

Keeping one eye on the road and one hand on the wheel, I pulled up the
bottom of his t-shirt revealing his taught lower abdomen and the hem of
his Bjorn Borg underwear. Laying my hand flat against his abdomen, my
fingers crept below the waistband of his boxer briefs. I felt a few soft
hairs above the root of his cock.  At 15, this kid seemed to have barely
entered puberty. I grasped his hard cock and Marko made a sharp intake of
breath. I caressed the warm, velvety length of his boyhood.

Marko looked me directly in the eyes, then grasped my crotch with his
left hand. I was rock hard, and the thin material of the board shorts I
was wearing offered little resistance to his probing fingers.

As we neared my hotel I warned Marko that we should probably stop the
petting so that we wouldn't be sporting obvious erections as we walked
through the lobby.  That thought caused me a little unease. How would it
look if I took a boy up to my hotel room?  We decided that I'd drop
Marko back at his bicycle and he'd ride to the hotel where we would meet
in the lobby after I changed out of my swim suit. I gave Marko my mobile
number and told him to text me when he got to the hotel.

A few minutes later Marko greeted me in the lobby. "Uncle James! How was
your drive to Makarska?"

"Fine. You look good, Marko!" I answered.  We sat in the lobby for a
couple minutes chatting about the hotel and then I invited my "nephew"
up to see what my suite looked like.

Once in my room I wasted no time, as if thinking about what I was about
to do would make me abort my plans. I reminded myself that at
15-years-old, Marko was of legal age in Croatia.  Then why did I find
myself so apprehensive about what we were about to do?  I squashed those
thoughts and embraced Marko. He returned the gesture and put his arms
around me. We ground our pelvises together and my cock surged with the
sweet feeling of Marko's warm, soft body pressed against mine. I grasped
Marko's buttocks through the thin material of his track pants.  The
round firm globes felt natural in each palm, as if God had sized the
boy's bottom perfectly for my hands. Marko squeezed his butt and pushed
into me even more firmly.

Marko's mop of brown hair had been pressed into my right shoulder, but
when my hands touched his ass he looked up at my face with his
long-lashed eyes. I leaned in and he opened his mouth to receive my kiss.

When I'd fantasized about meeting a beach boy in Makarska I'd hoped
that maybe I'd find someone who'd let me give him a blowjob. But here
was a willing young teen ready to engage in real, passionate lovemaking.
My erection felt impossibly constrained in my jeans. I could feel
Marko's erect cock pressed against my hip. I grasped his track pants by
each front pocket and pulled down, revealing tight boxer briefs in a
colorful blue and white striped pattern.  The unmistakable projection at
the front of his underwear was that of a cock standing straight and
erect. I'd already felt it but I hadn't seen it yet.

I pulled his boxer briefs down his thighs and his hard cock bounced like
a springboard. His erection curved slightly upward and his foreskin was
fully retracted, revealing a shiny pink glans. His balls were pulled up
tightly against his body and attracted me like a magnet - I had to caress
them. They were smooth and hairless and Marko only had a small patch of
whispy hairs above his cock. I was beginning do doubt that this kid was
15. When I began to stroke Marko's boyhood he reached for the snap of my
jeans, signalling what he wanted.

I undid my trousers and pulled them to the ground, then slid my gray
boxer briefs down my legs.  Marko watched with intense interest as my
hard cock came into his view. We stood looking at each other for a few
moments, two guys with our pants around our ankles, our eager erections
sticking out from under our t-shirts. I reached for the hem of Marko's
white shirt and pulled it over his head, then stepped back to look at the
entire boy, naked from the top of his head to his ankles, where his black
track pants had puddled at his feet.

The view of Marko's exposed body, golden tan with a pale white
mid-section from which an erect adolescent cock projected, was too much
for me. I dropped to my knees and devoured him, pulling him as deep into
my mouth as I could. My nose nestled against his lower abdomen just above
his sparse patch of pubes for a few seconds, and then I began the slow in
and out, taking his erection far down my throat and then out to the point
that only his smooth cock head remained in my mouth. My tongue teased his
head, then I pulled him back in as far as he could go and repeated the
process, gradually building up speed.

Marko placed his hands on my shoulders and began caressing my neck and
upper back.

After a couple minutes Marko whispered, "James! I will soon sprinkler."

Even with a cock in my mouth I chuckled at his clever translation. I
pulled off, wanting to explore more activities with the kid before he
came. In my experience, some boys lose all interest in sex once they've
nutted, others remain horny and eager to continue the lovemaking.

"Let's get in bed," I told Marko. I pulled the white duvet off the bed
and we lay down, leaning on our sides looking at each other. I was again
struck at how beautiful this boy was, and how lucky I was to be naked in
bed with him. I ran my hand along the side of his torso and hips,
caressing the smooth, warm skin, then grabbed his wet cock and pulled him
toward me. We embraced and began kissing, grinding our pelvises together
while our tongues intertwined like snakes in a basket.

Marko broke off the kiss and then began licking my neck, planting small
kisses down my chest and torso until he reached my stiff cock. He gripped
it with one hand and looked at it closely, moving the skin up and down.

"You're a Muslim?" Marko asked.

"No," I answered. "Most American men are circumcised," I explained,
making the scissors symbol with my fingers.

"It's okay. I like it," he said as he directed my cock into his mouth. It
wasn't the best blowjob I'd ever had, but it was definitely the prettiest
mouth that had ever been on my cock.  Looking down at the lust and
enjoyment playing across the young teen's face kicked my testosterone
into overdrive. I felt my orgasm approaching.

"Marko," I said, "I'm going to sprinkler soon."

The boy took his mouth off my cock. "I know... But you wanna do it in my
ass, right."

His directness caught me by surprise.  "Can I...?"

Without saying anything Marko rolled over onto his hand and knees and
stuck his butt up.

I leaned over and spread his cheeks. His crack and taint were smooth and
hairless, and his tawny colored rosebud looked clean and inviting. I
stuck my face in his ass and started licking. The kid began a slight
humping motion on the bed as my tongue probed his boy hole. After a few
minutes eating him out I was ready to try. I had to reach over Marko,
draping my body over his to get the tube of Astroglide in the bedside
drawer.

"Have you been fucked before?" I asked the boy as I ran my fingers along
the length of his crack, spreading the lube evenly over his hole and
exploring it with my finger.

"My school friend Luka fucked me in the ass sometimes, but he got a
girlfriend now," Marko answered, looking over his shoulder at me.

I nodded and lined my cock up with his butt. Spreading his cheeks, I
gently pressed my member against his hole and felt it open to receive me.
Slowly, slowly I entered him with mellow thrusts until I was deep in his
body. Marko's warm, tight insides caressed and encompassed my hard, eager
cock. My thrusts grew more forceful as I straddled the boy. I reached
around and caressed the boy's penis, happy to know he was fully erect.  I
needed to see that hard cock and Marko's cute face while I fucked him, so
I pulled out and turned Marko over by clutching his legs.  Marko lay on
his back looking up at me, then pulled his legs up towards his shoulders
without prompting. I reentered the boy and resumed pumping. Testosterone
and dopamine flooded my body as I looked at the gorgeous boy stroking his
cock with an expression of bliss on his face.

At that moment, the waves of sensation and pleasure built up so much that
felt like I was watching someone else fucking this cute kid, as if I had
been transformed into a spirit floating over the entwined man and boy for
just a moment.  The sound, feel and sight of this act had turned the
dials of every sense in my body up to ten. Reinhabiting my body, I looked
down at this beautiful boy who was looking directly at me with a slight
smile across his lips. Marko closed his eyes and arched his back, then a
small cry escaped from him as his jerking cock sprinkled his young boy
cum over his abdomen and stomach. I felt the climax approaching, like a
mountain heavy with snow seconds before an avalanche. And then the valley
rumbled as walls of white snow cascaded down the cliffs. Currents of
pleasure flowed through my body as my seed propelled itself deep into the
boy's core.

The thrusts of my body grew gentler, then I pulled out and fell onto the
bed next to the boy. I felt like I had just finished a hundred meter
sprint. Marko rolled over and embraced me. Even after our passionate
lovemaking it was a bit of a turn-on feeling his frontside, wet and
sticky with boy juice.

"James?" Marko looked at me. "I feel really bad..."

I felt a shot of pain, like a hot knife being plunged into my guts. Had
the boy not liked this?

I took a breath and asked "Why do you feel bad?"

"Because I lied to you. I'm just thirteen."

Distress and worry rushed out of me like a deflating balloon.

"That's OK," I said. "I still like you. But we can't tell anyone about
this, right?

Marko nodded with a look of acknowledgement.

"How long are you gonna be in Makarska?" he asked just above a whisper.

"I have to go back to Zagreb on Sunday night," I said, feeling pangs of
regret.  "But I'll come back. I promise."

***

Marko spent all weekend with me, naked in my hotel room except for a
couple trips into the village for restaurant meals. I kept my promise to
the boy. I did return to Makarska two weeks later, this time with a
recommendation for a local realtor.  I found my "villa" on a hillside
with a clear view of the Adriatic Sea. It was a little run down, but the
location was perfect. I bought out the lease on the Maserati as well. The
car and the house were tight on my finances, but I cashed in some of my
stock options from the company and sold my condo in Palo Alto.

I spend my summers in Makarska and the rest of the year in living in an
apartment in the Bay Area. Eventually Marko got a boyfriend closer to his
age, but not before introducing me to other young kids eager for
experience. The Ocean Blue Maserati is helpful as well, since every boy
in town seems to be attracted to it. And Marko and I are still friendly.
In fact, he's sitting right beside me at this moment, drinking Rakija,
the local brandy I love so much.


END


























































Marko continued,"Are you horny right now? I am." The boy always got
right to the point.

"Well..." I hedged. "I actually just blew a load."  Then I had an
idea.

"Luka's coming by later. He's always up for