Warning: The following is a work of fiction and does not relate to any real person or event. It describes explicit sexual activities between adult men and young boys. If this is not what you are looking for, you have no excuse for reading any further. If it is, then enjoy!
COMIC BOOK DAYS
I was sitting on the wrought iron bench on my own when I first met him. I was always on my own in the playpark. The other kids didn't want to play with me. Perhaps it had something to do with the way their mothers whispered things into their ears about me, looking at me in a sidelong, suspicious, disapproving manner, telling their boys that they were not to talk to me and to stay away from me. Consequently, I was always on my own. None of the other kids ever came near me, and if I ever ventured into the playpark to climb onto the slide, or jump on one of the swings, the other kids would fix me with these hateful stares and promptly move away. So, even in the playpark I was on my own. I desperately wanted to play with the other kids, but the other kids would be way over the other side as far away from me as possible. I remember how lonely that made me feel and how much their hateful stares hurt. So eventually I stopped venturing into the playpark. I just sat on my own on the bench, always on the sidelines observing, having resigned myself to being permanently on the outside looking in.
So that's where I sat. On the iron bench, reading my copy of Eagle. I had the comic folded back in one hand and with the other I was playing with the little stiffie in my shorts. My dickie was very stiff as usual, and I was squeezing it furtively, being careful not to let anyone see. I liked playing with my stiff dickie. It was nice when I touched it, and sometimes, when I was peeing, if I rolled back the tight skin just a little, the tip of the shiny purple head would appear, and that spongy purple bit was so sensitive it almost hurt when I touched it. I didn't roll the skin back very far because it was just too sensitive. So I just squeezed my dickie when it was stiff, and I liked doing that because my dickie was stiff a lot of the time.
`Well aren't you just shiny as a penny?'
The voice made me jump. I looked around. A man had just joined me on the bench and was sitting next to me, beaming at me, with a benevolent smile and friendly eyes. I hadn't noticed him until he spoke. I quickly covered my crotch with the comic, but I knew straight away that he had spotted me squeezing my dickie. His eyes were drawn to my crotch, and he could see my little fist buried under the comic, studiously grabbing at my crotch through my shorts. He reached over, and I thought for a moment he was going to rub my crotch. But he didn't, he just picked up my Eagle comic.
`Oh, Dan Dare,' he said, `My favourite.'
I noticed as he leaned over that he had a very nice smell. It was a very strong lemony scent. I decided it must be his aftershave. I liked that smell. It was so clean and exciting.
He held up the comic and flicked through the pages.
`Who's your favourite?' he asked.
I was actually surprised that he knew anything about it, yet alone had a favourite character.
`Flamer,' I said, `he's my favourite.'
Flamer was Dan Dare's youthful sidekick. I liked Flamer. Flamer was cute. Flamer had freckles.
`Yeah, Flamer's good too,' the man said, with a chuckle, and he handed the comic back to me.
He seemed very relaxed and friendly, and I noticed that not only was he very clean shaven, he wore a suit and a tie, and he had very thick, neatly combed hair that was just going grey at the temples. He must have been a businessman of some kind, I decided.
`You know I have lots of those comics at home,' he said.
`You do?' I said, perking up with interest.
`Oh sure,' he said, `my boy has them all.'
I was wide-eyed with excitement.
`Uh huh,' he replied, nodding enthusiastically, `My boy has a very big collection.'
`Oh, cool,' I said, breathless with wonderment.
`Yes,' he went on, `I'm sure you would like my boy. You could be friends.'
That seemed like such a nice proposition. I had no friends. The other kids were wary of me, so the idea that this man had a boy at home who wanted to be my friend was wonderful.
`And it looks like you could do with some relief,' he went on, jerking his head at my crotch, and grinning broadly.
What did he mean? Was it conceivable that he had noticed me squeezing my stiffie?
The man leaned over and spoke very quietly.
`I should warn you though,' he said, in low tones, `My boy is very naughty sometimes, hehe. But I don't mind.'
I was turned towards him, looking up at him in wide-eyed wonderment, and he had this amused half-smile on his face. I understood he was anxious to get me to meet his boy, and his tone and demeanour hinted at something slightly illicit. I knew that this man was promising me something exciting, but I didn't really know what it was. I only knew that for some strange reason it made my stiffie get even harder and I felt it straining against the front of my tight shorts.
`So what do you think, little feller?' he asked, `Would you like to meet my boy?'
I liked the way he called me `little feller'. It seemed so friendly and affectionate. He was looking at me with this hopeful expression, eager to show me his boy's comics, and suddenly I thought it wouldn't be polite to disappoint him.
`Okay,' I said, resignedly.
He seemed pleased.
`That's a good boy,' he said, praising my quiescence, `Come on, you can have a ride in my car.'
`What car have you got?' I asked, curious.
`A Jaguar,' he said, proudly, beaming at me.
My jaw dropped.
`Really?' I said, once again wide-eyed.
I liked cars. Especially fast and sporty looking ones.
`Yeah, it's over there,' he said, pointing over towards the trees that formed the periphery of the park.
I looked, and sure enough, just beyond the trees, parked on the road on the other side of the railings was a Jaguar. It was a nice sleek car that was shiny and new and looked very expensive.
I gasped. He seemed to like that.
`So, you wanna ride little feller?'
I nodded vigorously, speechless with excitement.
Readily, I left the iron bench and the isolation of the playpark, and I followed this man over to the gate. In no time, we were standing on the sidewalk admiring his car. It was definitely a Jaguar. I knew it was a Jaguar because it had a little chrome figurine of a leaping Jaguar on the hood, as though it was leaping off the grille. It was racing green as well, and it was so clean and shiny and polished to a high gloss.
The man walked around and unlocked the door. What I liked was that he came back around to where I was standing and opened the door for me to get in. I gladly hopped into the big leather seat. It was so deep and comfortable, it was like an armchair. Then he got in the other side and started the engine. I looked around the inside of the car and I saw it had wood on the doors and dashboard, and there were lots of little clocks on the driver's side. It smelled of leather. I guessed this was a very expensive car and this man must be rich.
On the drive, the man kept looking over at me and smiling. Every time he smiled, my dickie stiffened even more in my tight pants. I still didn't really understand why. I just knew it felt good. I was snuggled into the big leather seat. I could just see over the edge of the window, and I looked out at the people and the cars, overawed by the privilege of riding in his big expensive car.
It was only a short drive, during which I was almost breathless with excitement. Finally, he turned into a quiet, tree-lined street, and slowed down. Then he manoeuvred the car into a shady driveway leading up to a large house with big arched windows. He reached into the glove box and took out a little box, a remote controller of some kind. Then he pressed a little button, and the garage door magically tilted open. The garage lights came on and he eased the car inside. The garage door closed behind us, trapping us inside. The man got out and opened the car door for me, and showed me into the house.
Inside, he took me through the kitchen into the family room. I was overawed by how big the house was, and how much tidier it was than mine, and it smelled of new stuff, a bit like the leather smell of his Jaguar. He told me to sit down while he got changed. There was a long corner sofa that was as wide as my bed, and if I sat back on it, my feet didn't even reach the edge. He switched on the big TV for me and gave me the remote, and I thought what a kind man he was.
`What would you like to drink little feller?'
`Coke please,' I said, without even thinking.
`Coke it is,' he said, and went off into the kitchen.
I could hear him clattering about in the kitchen for a minute whilst I tried to concentrate on the cartoons on the big TV. Tom was getting blown up by Jerry again. There was a big explosion and when the smoke cleared, Tom was left with his fur singed and his face blackened.
When he came back, he handed me the drink. The Coke was still bubbling effervescently in a big heavy glass, and he had even put ice in it with a little slice of lemon. I liked the way the ice cubes clinked against the side of the glass as he handed it to me. It was the best Coke I had ever tasted.
`My boy will be home soon,' the man said, `Then you can play together. Just look at these for now.'
He opened a little cupboard that was on one side of the family room, like a little closet that was for coats and shoes and stuff, and he brought out a little cardboard box. It was full of comics.
`Here,' he said, putting the box on the floor right in front of where I was sitting.
I looked down and descended from the sofa onto the floor to inspect this treasure trove further. I delved into the comics. The box was stuffed full of every conceivable copy of Eagle. A few I had, but most of them I didn't.
`Oh, cool!' I gasped, breathless with excitement.
`Hehe, you like that little feller?'
I nodded emphatically, feeling like I was in heaven.
`You look at those until my boy comes home, and then we'll have some fun.'
I thought it was a bit strange that his boy wasn't home yet, but I hoped he would come back soon, if not just so I could thank him for letting me look at his comics.
The man left me alone for a while, drinking my Coke and watching the cartoons and immersing myself in a mountain of comics. It was funny I thought, whilst I was alone in this big room, that this man wanted me to watch kid's cartoons and look at comic books and drink soda, when I half suspected that what he really wanted to do with me was something rude and dirty. I didn't know what, but my dickie was stiffer than ever just thinking about it.
After a while, the man came back. He had changed out of his suit and tie and was wearing a bathrobe, like he was getting ready to go to bed. But it was far too early for bed. It was a nice robe though, very colourful and with shiny material that looked quite expensive, like all his things. As he came in, he was carrying a glass in his hand with a clear light brown drink that had lots of bubbles and a little white foam on the top.
He came and sat down with me on the floor. He sat quite close, and I caught a whiff of the drink in his glass. It had quite a strong, heady aroma, though I didn't know what it was. He spotted me eyeing his glass inquisitively.
`You want some of this little feller?' he asked.
I wasn't quite sure what he meant. I hadn't intended to imply that I wanted to taste it, but so far he had been generous and amenable and by now I was beginning to understand that this man was likely to let me do pretty much anything I wanted.
`Here,' he said, before I could answer, and held the glass to my lips.
He tipped it for me and I dipped my head and took a big gulp, getting some of the foam on my nose.
Having sampled it, I scrunched my nose up. It tasted really bitter compared to my sweet Coke. He laughed at that.
`Hehe,' he chuckled, `It's an acquired taste.'
`What is it?' I asked.
`It's beer,' he said.
`It's horrible,' I said, at the risk of offending him, `I don't like it.'
`Don't worry, you will,' he replied, not in the least fazed by my reaction.
I guessed that meant it was something all adults did, even though it wasn't all that nice. I figured they just drank it until they got used to it.
He put the beer down, having taken a long draught of it, and then he scooted closer to me.
`You like the comics?' he asked.
`Yeh, they're great,' I replied.
`Good,' he said, and scooted even closer.
I had managed to unearth a particularly exciting edition of Eagle, one of the early and rare ones, and I gingerly spread it on the floor between my splayed legs, regarding it with some fascination.
Whilst I was engrossed in the comic, he edged closer to me on the floor until he was almost sitting with me between his legs. He wrapped himself around me, and I could feel him looking at the comic, hunched over my shoulder. I could smell his distinctive lemony after shave, mixed in with the smell of beer on his breath. My stiffie was getting harder and harder in my tight shorts. I still didn't really know why, I just knew that this man's proximity made me get excited. It was something about the way he looked at me, the way he talked to me, the way he treated me. I just knew he wanted to do things to me, and they were naughty, rude things. My dickie was almost hurting with stiffness and I wanted to press it against something. It was so hard I just wanted to squeeze it or get him to squeeze it for me. I was almost dizzy from excitement.
He reached around me and turned the pages with me, both of us looking at the comic, but I was no longer interested in the comic. He was breathing gently into my ear. He pressed up against my back, and wrapped his arms around me. I fell back against him, finally knowing that he was going to do stuff to me. He was holding me and pulling me tight against him, and I felt something hard on my butt. His breathing seemed to get short and quick, and I could feel his little shallow breaths hot against my cheek. Then I became aware that his robe was open, so that his body was exposed and warmly pressing against my back.
`That's it little feller,' he murmured softly, `Just sit there for a moment.'
He lifted up the back of my thin t-shirt and exposed my back. I didn't know if he just wanted to look at me, but I just sat there between his legs while he admired me. He pushed me forward, so that I was tilted well over the opened comic. He stroked my bare back up and down.
`When is your boy coming home?' I asked him, wondering how much longer he was going to be.
`Soon,' he said, `And when he does we'll all play together.'
As he was talking, reassuring me, I could feel his big, warm hands all over my bare skin. I could feel him admiring my body from where he was sitting on the floor behind me. His hands stroked all the way up my back, over my shoulders, my upper arms, and down all the way to the waist of my tight shorts, and all the time I was willing him to touch my stiffie. It was so hard from what he was doing, I just wanted him to squeeze it. It was aching to be touched. And then, as if in answer to my prayers, I felt his hand burrow down into my lap and I felt the most exquisite pleasure I had ever known. His big hand enveloped the bulge in my crotch and he clasped my stiffie and my little balls all together in his big fist. I closed my eyes and I couldn't help squealing with pleasure.
`That's it little feller,' he said, in low soft tones, `You like that don't you?'
I nodded, even though he was behind me, but I knew he knew the answer already.
`You really need this don't you, hehe,' he said.
I carried on sitting there, immersed in the electric feelings he was giving me. I closed my eyes, still hunched over the comic. It was so good I let him do whatever he wanted.
Suddenly, he grasped my arms and turned me around. He was so big and strong, he literally spun me around on the floor so that I was sitting facing him. I looked up at him, a little disorientated, a little scared, but still breathless with excitement. I looked down and I could see where his robe was open that he had a big hairy stiffie that was sticking up between his legs. It was enormous. It was so much bigger than my tiny one, and it looked red and angry.
`Hehe, you're so pretty little feller,' he chuckled, still friendly, `I gotta do this to you.'
He pulled my t-shirt off over my head and threw it aside. I was now half naked and I knew for sure he was going to do things to me. He pushed me backwards gently, so that I was lying on the floor between his open legs looking up at him. I felt the roughness of the carpet tickling my bare back, and I was aware that my head was lying on the now forgotten comic. My legs were resting on his hips. His big stiffie was very close to mine, and he pushed them together. It was very hot and it felt so good when he rubbed them together, grinding my tiny little dickie real hard, and I was nearly dizzy from the pleasure.
Next he took my hand and placed it around his big red stiffie. I curled my little fingers around the big hard pole and I could feel his crinkly little hairs tickle my wrist.
`That's a good boy,' he said, `Feels good to have someone else's hand on it doesn't it?'
I nodded as I was lying there looking up at him, the back of my head rubbing against the open comic. He grasped my hand, squeezing it tightly around his dickie, so that my little hand was wrapped in his big fist. He motioned for me to move it up and down. I saw how the elastic skin moved down, exposing the purple head completely, and I remember thinking how I had never managed to get the skin on my little dickie to ever go back that far.
`That's good little feller,' he coaxed, `Keep going. You're going to get a nice reward.'
I moved his skin up and down a few times and he started breathing faster and faster. I focused on his big red dickie and the big hole in the tip. He stared at me with a manic smile, obviously enjoying my little hand on him. Then he tilted his head back, as though he was looking up at the ceiling, leaning back on his arms, and held his breath for a moment. Suddenly a big jet of white liquid squirted out and landed in a line of droplets all up my bare tummy, and there were two or three more gobs that didn't squirt so far, but fell out and dribbled across my little hand as I had my fingers wrapped around his big cock. I stopped and let go, shocked and confused. I sat up, momentarily bewildered by all the liquid. And there was so much of it, spattered over my chest and tummy, all over the carpet, dripping from the end of his dickie and in his crinkly hairs. Then he smiled at me in a really benevolent way and I knew it was okay. He was pleased with me.
`See what you did,' he said encouragingly, `You made all the Brasso come out.'
`The what?' I asked, still in a state of shock.
`See that white stuff?' he said, jerking his head down at my wet tummy, `That's Brasso. All men have that.'
`Oh, cool!' I said, looking closely at the wetness on my tummy.
As I sat there, all wet, the glistening white droplets started to run down my tummy. I was fascinated by this magical substance which I'd never seen before, and which came out in such a spectacular way. It was warm and sticky. I had no idea that cocks could produce anything other than pee. Tentatively, I reached out and put a single fingertip into the wet stuff that was pooling in my little belly button, and looked at it dripping from the end of my finger. I looked back at him, fascinated.
`You've gotta taste it,' he said.
`Really?' I exclaimed, shocked.
`Oh yes,' he said, `Brasso is good for you.'
He then leaned forward, scooped a little on the end of one finger and stuck it between my lips.
`There,' he said, `little mouths like yours need to eat as much Brasso as possible.'
I screwed up my face, unimpressed.
`It's horrible,' I said, wiping it off my lips with the back of my hand, `I don't like it.'
`Don't worry, you will,' he replied.
I guessed that meant it was something all little boys did, even though it wasn't all that nice. But I didn't mind. I figured they just ate it until they got used to it. Just like drinking beer. I didn't like the smell or taste of beer, but adults still drank it.
The man got up and fetched a little dish towel from the kitchen, then he knelt down and stood me up, with all the Brasso running down my bare body. He wiped it all off. He was very gentle and was looking into my eyes and smiling as he did it. My little dickie was hurting with stiffness in my tight shorts.
`That's better isn't it, little feller?' he said, and he picked up my little t-shirt from the floor.
I noticed that he was about to give me my t-shirt back, but he didn't. He seemed to enjoy looking at me, so instead he folded it neatly and put it aside, hanging it ever so carefully on the end of the sofa.
`When my boy gets here we'll play some more,' he said.
I could hardly wait. I had anticipated meeting his boy all afternoon. Maybe his boy also had some Brasso for me to taste. My dickie was real hard thinking about it.
* * * * * *
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