Date: Thu, 25 Aug 2005 19:23:16 +0000 From: Paul Francis Subject: 'Car Thief' The story below is a work of erotic fiction. If reading erotic material is illegal where you live, please leave this page now. If you are under age to read material of this type, please leave this page now. This story contains scenes of sexual interaction involving underage boys. if this is not what you want to read please leave this page now. Your comments and criticisms are most welcome; please e-mail them to pinkpanther2@hotmail.co.uk I will reply to them as soon as I can. CAR THIEF The O'Connor family are well known in this neighbourhood, well- respected too, on the whole. Mick O'Connor, a big, powerfully built man, runs his own ground works business, digging out the foundations and installing key services on new buildings. His wife Liz is a ward sister at the general hospital. They've got four children. The eldest, Brendan, is a strapping young man, the image of his dad. At eighteen he's already well established in the family business, driving the earth movers and other machines. Their next child, Rachel, is just seventeen, a charming, pretty girl, who's following her mum into the nursing profession. Their youngest, Patrick, is another strapping big lad. He turned fourteen a few weeks ago. He's got brains and sporting talent too; a student at the boys' grammar school, he's a county schools' Rugby player and track and field athlete. He intends to go into the construction industry as a structural engineer or even an architect. His parents are obviously very proud of him. Between Rachel and Patrick is Ciaran. He doesn't fit in at all; small for his age, very slim and, by all accounts, a complete waste of space. He's always in trouble; shoplifting, breaking into cars and houses, all sorts of stuff. He gets caught all the time, but it doesn't seem to stop him. Being a good, caring family, they've managed to keep him out of the clutches of social services, although the word is that some of that caring extends to Mick taking his belt to the kid when he's been caught stealing. The crunch comes when the kid hits fifteen. He gets caught again; with a police record stretching to several pages he gets four months in a Young Offenders' Institution. He surfaces again a few weeks ago. Monday evening I leave the car on the drive, thinking I may go out later. In the event I stay home watching television. About half past ten I go out to put the car in the garage. Someone's in the middle of breaking into my car. They've got the door open and they're trying to remove the hi-fi. I'm thirty one, I'm not a small guy, I work out regularly and I know how to handle myself. I grab the `someone' and drag them out of the car. I recognise him immediately. "Oh, it's you is it?" I bark at him. "Well, I can't say it's a surprise!"` I frogmarch him into the house and through to the living room. "Sit there while I call the police!" I snap, dumping him in a chair in the far corner of the room. "Please don't call the police!" he whimpers. "My dad will kill me if he knows I've been caught stealing again." "You should have thought of that before you broke into my car! I reply coldly. "You've been a one-boy crime wave round here for as long as I can remember!" He bursts into tears. "Please! Please don't call them! I'm sorry I broke into your car, really I am! I'll do anything to make it right with you." That stops me in my tracks. I've always assumed he would be difficult; aggressive, rebellious; I wasn't expecting a frightened boy sobbing his heart out when faced with what's going to happen to him. "So why did you do it?" I ask. "I've got no money. One pound fifty a week, that's all I get! Brendan and Patrick can have anything they want; I get nothing!" That strikes a chord. Mick O'Connor has many good qualities, but I can't see patience and understanding being among them. Ciaran's been a disappointment, a failure, a misfit; so his dad's rejected him, just punished the kid to make him improve; real old-fashioned Irish Christian Brothers stuff. I pass him a couple of paper hankies. "Right! Now wipe your eyes. I want you tell me about how all this started, all the stealing and that." "It started when I was at junior school," he starts off, looking at the floor, his voice faltering; clearly very distressed by the situation he's in. "I got bullied because I was small and didn't know how to fight. Patrick tried to stop them, but he was younger so he couldn't do much. Dad just said I had to learn to stand up for myself, said that was what he'd always had to do. So I started bunking off. That's when it started, the shoplifting and that. When I got to high school the bullying was even worse. I hate school anyway, so I was bunking off even more. Then I got into breaking into places; houses cars whatever." "So what happened when you got caught?" I ask quietly. "Police never did much, not at first anyway. Dad just beat me black and blue, stopped my pocket money.. That's what'll happen tonight if you call the police." "And you'll be back inside again." "Yeah. They'll send me back there." There's something about the way he says the word `there' that makes stop and think. He's as scared of going back inside as he is of what his dad will do to him. It doesn't take me more than a moment to guess why. I've no direct experience of those places, but the reports about the `pecking-order' among the inmates, and the bullying and intimidation that go on are clear enough. As one of the youngest kids there, and looking at least eighteen months younger than he actually is, he'd have been right at the bottom of the food chain. I take a good look at him. He's very cute; the wolves would have been on his case the whole time. I weigh up the situation. I like young boys, and Ciaran is just my style, but as a rule I steer clear of the local kids, the risks are simply too great. There isn't anywhere in this area where I could go to pick up rent boys either, so holidays in various parts of Eastern Europe have been my main way of meeting the sort of boys I like. Up to now I've considered Ciaran to be even further off limits than most of the other kids round here. I don't know his mum and dad well, but well enough to speak to. He could have dropped me right in trouble if I'd tried anything out of order. Tonight has changed everything. I'll tell him what I have in mind for him to `make things right'. If he goes along with it, that's cool; he can hardly say anything afterwards without giving away how he came to be here. If he doesn't, I call the police. If he tells them what I asked him to do, I can simply deny that I said any such thing. Someone with his record that I've caught in the act of breaking into my car might have something of a credibility problem. "Well, I can see you've been through some rough times," I say after a long pause. "Doesn't alter the facts though. You've broken the lock on my car; I'll have to pay to get that fixed. You may have damaged the hi-fi as well, I don't know yet. So how are you going to put that right? On one pound fifty a week pocket money you can hardly pay me back, can you?" He squirms around in the chair still looking very distressed. "I don't know! Up to tonight I haven't touched anything since I came out, honest! I'm sorry! I'll do whatever you want!" "So how about providing me with a little entertainment?" He looks up, clearly puzzled. "Entertainment? What d'you mean?" "I think you know. The sort of entertainment that the older boys in that place you were in wanted from you; only I won't be as rough as they were. The next few seconds seem to last forever. "I'd no idea you were into that," he says at last. "I thought you were just a regular sort of guy." I smile at him. "That's what people are supposed to think." There's another long pause. "Okay then. Promise you won't hurt me?" "Yeah." "And afterwards we forget about what happened with the car?" "Sure. I forget about what happened with the car and you forget what we got up to afterwards. Is that a deal?" "Okay, that's a deal." I guide him up to my bedroom and start to undress. "Okay, take your jacket and your top off," I tell him quietly. I watch him remove them, catching my breath as he reveals his slender upper body, his nipples still small and barely visible, his skin so smooth and white it has an almost translucent quality to it. With his shortish, mousey-fair hair, blue eyes and almost delicate features, he's far cuter than I ever realized. "Beautiful!" I say approvingly. "Shoes and sock off, then your jeans." This just keeps getting better. His legs are beautifully slim and as smooth and pale as the rest of him. He's down to a pair of burgundy- coloured briefs; the bulge at the front of them suggests that's one area where he's well up with the average. He's absolutely gorgeous; every bit as cute as any of the Eastern European boys I've met. I give him a big smile. "Come here!" He stands in front of me and allows me to pull down his underpants. Even without a hard-on, he is stunning. Average size balls, a long, medium-thick cock with his piss-slit just visible beyond his foreskin. Above his cock, a small crop of short, wispy, golden brown hair is just starting to sprout. "Beautiful cock!" I say, sitting back to admire him. I can scarcely believe my luck; There's no way I'd expected him to have a beauty like this. I fondle it for a few seconds. It feels wonderful. I put it into my mouth and begin sucking. Within a few seconds it's as hard and smooth as polished marble covered in silk. I let it go. Almost seven inches, at a guess, the foreskin now completely retracted, the head on the small side of average; on this slender boy who stands no more than five and a half feet tall, it looks amazing. I pull my boxer shorts off. "Let's get on the bed," I say quietly. He complies without a murmur of protest. I know I need to take this gently. I lie right next to him, running my hand all over his firm, silky smooth body. I go back to playing with his cock. It's harder than ever; there's not a hint of him losing his erection. I guide his hand onto my thick seven and a half inches. He fondles it willingly; the touch of his slender young fingers sending shock waves all over my body. I lean over him and take his cock into my mouth, gently sucking right down on it, using my tongue to lick all over the head. It's delicious; hard, smooth and fresh, the way only a young boy can be. After a couple of minutes I let it go. "Will you suck mine now?" I ask. For a second there's a hint of apprehension in his eyes, then he just leans across me and does as I've asked. He's clearly not too experienced, but he's no novice; the sensations are wonderful. I ruffle his hair; he continues sucking. I feel my balls just starting to tighten. "Right, you can stop now." I tell him. He slowly lets me go and lies back down next to me. I look across at him; he's got a very subtle smile on his face. I smile back. "You okay?" I ask. "Yeah, cool." "You didn't mind doing that, did you?" He grins and shrugs his shoulders. "No, that's cool." I ruffle his hair. "You got a hard time off the older kids when you were inside?" He nods, the grin disappearing. "Yeah." "You sure you're okay with this?" "Yeah, you're cool. When I went away, the kids in there were like animals; they treated me like shit." I kiss his forehead. "You're beautiful! Is it cool if I suck you off, then you give me a wank. Then that's your debt paid, okay?" The little smile comes back. "Yeah, that's sound." I put my arm round his shoulder. "Unless you want to earn some extra pocket money so you don't need to go out stealing again." "What d'you want?" he asks, a frown crossing his face. "Let me fuck you." He pauses for several seconds. "How much?" "Thirty." He looks at me intently. "You'll use some lube on me before you do it?" "Yes, of course." "Okay then." I get the KY from the bedside cabinet, then lean across him and resume sucking his cock. I spread his legs and get him to pull his knees up. I smear some gel on my fingers and begin to work it into his bum. He's beautifully tight; tight enough for me to know that he's not been fucked since he got out. I get out the vibrator and smear it with lube. It's a medium-sized one, just the right size to make the kid relax enough so that the real thing won't hurt him too much. I use it plenty on my foreign trips. "What's that?" he asks, grinning. "A vibrator," I tell him. "It'll help you relax." "Yeah, cool! Go on then!" I gently push it into him, turn it on and work it slowly in and out. His face tells me everything: it is a bit painful, but it's making him even hornier. I keep it in there until he's moaning quietly, not showing the slightest sign of discomfort. "That okay?" I ask. "Yeah! That's cool!" "You ready then?" "Yeah!" I place two pillows in the middle of the bed and roll him over so he's lying on top of them with his legs spread and his butt sticking up. I look down. He is gorgeous, as cute as any boy I've ever met anywhere! I lower myself onto him. My patience is rewarded; my cock goes straight into him. God alone knows how many times he was fucked while he was inside, but his tight little ass is making damn sure my cock's not going anywhere. I give it to him nice and slow at first, enjoying the sensation of his firm young body pinioned beneath me. This is the ultimate, the pinnacle; it just doesn't get any better than this. I gradually increase the tempo. Ciaran joins in with the action, pushing his hips back to meet my downward thrusts, his moaning getting louder, his breathing shallow and uneven. Suddenly his whole body shakes violently, his bum squeezing my cock even tighter. I know what's happened. "You naughty boy, Ciaran!" I rasp in mock, role-play anger. "You've spunked on my bed!" I pick up the pace till I'm fucking him with all the force I can muster. Now it's my turn to experience the wild, crazy spasms. I'm shaking, the room's shaking, everything's shaking! I thrust in right up to my balls. "Oh! Take this, you naughty boy! Take it! Take it! Oh!! Oh!! Ohhhhh!!!!!!" My balls explode into action, sending load after load of hot, thick spunk barrelling through my cock and out into Ciaran's cute little bum. I collapse on top of him, completely out of it; it's the best fuck I've had in ages. It takes me almost a minute to recover sufficiently for me to pull out. "Are you okay?" I ask as I climb off him. He rolls over and smiles up at me. "Yeah, cool! Sorry I made a mess!" "No problem!" I tell him, kissing his nose. He hurries along to the bathroom; he comes back wearing nothing but that sexy little smile. He is stunning; one of the most beautiful boys I've ever seen. As he gets dressed I hand him the thirty pounds I promised him. "Thanks!" he says warmly. "Hide it, in your socks or somewhere. If your dad doesn't know you've got it, he can't take it off you, can he?" He nods, that subtle, sexy smile crossing his face again. "And if you want to make another fifty quid, come round Friday evening." "Sure!" "About eight o'clock." The smile broadens, just re-emphasising how cute he is. I think I'm going to faint. "I'll be here," he says.