by
Part 23: On The Road
And so, I was finally going to see Ciggy. At last I was on my way to our long awaited and eagerly anticipated reunion. Altair had somehow arranged for me to be taken to the Red Cross field hospital where Ciggy was being cared for. He had even arranged for a car to escort me there. But I should have known that it would never turn out to be that simple. Nothing was ever straightforward in this war.
As the car sped away from the inn, leaving the few scattered houses of the village behind, we soon found ourselves back out in open country. The car gathered momentum along the deserted country lanes of Verolino. I looked around and noticed how beat up and worn out the car was. It was an SUV, but not just another repainted Land Rover of the type deployed by VFOR. No, evidently I was being chauffeured away in a graphite colored Mitsubishi Outlander. It looked quite battered and used, with faded leather upholstery and mud ingrained in the floor mats. It must have been a nice car once. But it had certainly seen a lot of wear and tear. I looked out over the high sloping hood. Up front the big engine growled like a tractor. The instruments on the dashboard were illuminated with little LED graphics and digital displays, all lit up like a miniature flight deck.
I didn't know who the driver was. For the moment he was focused on the road and didn't really look at me. I wasn't even sure if I should speak to him, so I just sat in the passenger seat and stole furtive glances at him, my curiosity as usual getting the better of me. All I could see of him was mostly his profile, but he appeared quite young, maybe no more than 18. Naturally that raised a lot of questions in my mind as to who he was and why he was doing this. This was, after all, a risky journey, fraught with danger. His mystique was all the more heightened by the fact that he was wearing a pair of black wraparound sunglasses, so I couldn't see his eyes. The most distinctive thing about him was that his skin was a delicious shade of light brown. He had very handsome features - an oval face with a firm jawline, a cute, pert nose that gently curved upwards at the tip, and full, red, pouty lips. His straggly hair was longish and thick and a strange gray-brown color, spilling out from under a baseball cap which he had crammed onto the back of his head and tilted at quite a raffish angle. He was dressed very simply, in a tight t-shirt and faded light blue jeans. His arms were the same light brown as his face, with a sparse dusting of lightly colored hair on his forearms, and his biceps were beautifully sculpted. He wasn't muscly or anything, but he had excellent definition for a boy of his age, obviously developing nicely. I guess he detected my curiosity because, after a long period of silence had passed, and we had left the inn far behind us, eventually he turned to glance at me briefly. The sunglasses flashed in my direction.
'My name is Orion, in case you're wondering.'
It was almost as though he had read my mind. I wondered if there was perhaps something in my demeanor that had given away my musing.
'My name is Cloud,' I replied.
'I know,' he said.
'I used to be…'
'I know,' he said again, interjecting, 'Altair told me all about you.'
'Oh,' I said.
He smiled, again glancing at me briefly.
'Your reputation precedes you,' he said, with a grin, 'your exploits are very well known.'
I smiled uncertainly, not sure if I should be pleased about that.
'Does that bother you?' I asked him.
He shook his head, indicating that he was not concerned.
'No. I don't give a fuck. It's cool with me,' he added.
I nodded in acknowledgment, reassured by that, and for the moment content.
'How do you know Altair?'
'I used to work for him,' he replied, again glancing over at me quickly.
'At the inn?'
'Yeah. I used to help out, before the war.'
I gave a quick nod in acknowledgement, but didn't reply. Then, after a few seconds, I turned to him again, suddenly curious.
'How old are you?' I asked.
'Sixteen,' he said.
Geez, he was even younger than I thought. Who would have guessed that this boy was only four years older than me? He certainly looked older than that, and could easily have passed for 18. He was tall for his age too, effortlessly filling the driving position of the Outlander, although he did have the seat pulled quite far forward.
'I look older don't I?' he asked, smiling.
I nodded, taken aback by the fact that he had once again correctly read my thoughts.
'How come you're doing this for me?' I asked, plaintively, and I hoped it sounded grateful and not simply a matter of childish curiosity.
Orion glanced over again.
'Look Cloud, don't ask too many fuckin' questions,' he warned me, 'It's safer that way. The less you know about me, the less you'll be able to tell them if we get caught.'
And that statement brought home to me the reality of what was going on here. This was a dangerous mission, with dire consequences for both of us if we were caught in transit.
'At the moment we're still in VLA territory,' he explained, 'The Red Cross field hospital is inside the VFOR safe area. We won't be out of danger until we cross the VFOR sector boundary.'
'How far away is that?'
'I don't know. The situation is changing all the time. Even the VFOR safe areas could come under attack. The fuckin' VLA doesn't observe any rules. They were the first to attack the UN safe areas. It was they who broke the ceasefire. It was they who walked out of the Reykjavik talks.'
'I see,' I said, downbeat, looking down into my lap.
Orion chuckled.
'Oh, it's not as bad as all that,' he said brightly, 'Trust me, I'll get us there.'
I flashed him a hopeful smile, showing him that I had indeed put my trust in him.
'You hungry?' he asked, looking over.
I nodded eagerly. Due to the unscheduled visit of the Halcyon League boys, and my hasty departure from the inn, I hadn't had any breakfast.
'There's pastries in the glove box,' he said, 'and a flask of hot chocolate if you want it.'
I wanted it. I flipped the latch on the glove box and the flap dropped down. The compartment was deep, and stuffed full of grubby odds and ends. There was a paper bag nestling in there and a small vacuum flask secreted way down the back. I pulled out the paper bag and opened it. There were two sticky Danish pastries inside.
'You can have them both if you like,' said Orion, without taking his eyes off the road.
That was one thing I was starting to notice about Orion: he was often able to anticipate what I was thinking. It was like he always knew what I was about to say. Just as with Altair, it was almost as though there was something psychic going on. They just seemed to know things. It was uncanny.
As I started to eat one of the pastries, absently littering my lap and the upholstery with flaky crumbs, I carried on wondering about Orion. There were two things that aroused my curiosity about him straight away. The first one was the question of whether he was working for the Resistance. And I wondered, in a moment of distraction, whether it was customary in the Resistance to name themselves after stars and constellations. The second one was - as per my usual habit - to speculate on whether he was into boyfucking and what he was like in bed. He was certainly a good looking boy - with that deliciously brown skin and that thick, floppy head of hair, with that baseball cap tilted cutely on his head. I couldn't help casting an approving eye over his body as he was ensconced in that big leather driving seat. I knew that I liked what I saw. He wasn't heavily built, but he did have quite a substantial stature, so I imagined he must be a sportsman. Maybe a football player. But of course it was merely indulgent conjecture on my part. His tight t-shirt clearly accentuated the lats in his sides, and I imagined what a beautifully sculpted physique he must have. His thighs were quite well defined in the tight-fitting jeans. I couldn't see his crotch too well, but it didn't stop me wondering if he had a nice cock. He was only 16, and his voice was already deepening, with a quite distinctive huskiness to it which was quite alluring. Although it was not yet an adult tone, it told me that he was already well into adolescence. Probably he already had pubes, and a fat, juicy teen fuckstick that was able to serve up a hefty spunkwad of thick, white teen spunk. Not kiddiespunk, but real spunk. Proper teen cum, cum with real substance and volume, not the thin, watery, transparent kind, like mine. Little Cloud was stiffening up in my crotch just thinking about it, so that I had to furtively move an arm across my lap, pressing my elbow pleasurably into my little erection. Little Cloud resisted, pulsing in protest at being smothered, but I had to keep the irrepressible little fucker at bay.
'You okay?' Orion asked, flashing me a suspicious, sidelong glance.
Once again Orion somehow seemed to know exactly what was on my mind, even though I was pretty sure I had been discreet in giving him the once over - I was usually very good at doing that without being noticed.
'Yeah,' I said, not sure if he had seen the little bulge in my pants and whether I had given it away by moving my arm across my lap.
He chuckled again. It was very sweet when he did that.
'Good,' he said, 'now finish your pastry and leave everything to me.'
I didn't say anything, but I gave him a chuffed smile, my cheeks bulging as I munched away on another mouthful of Danish. I ate one of the pastries, and only drank a few sips of the hot chocolate, and then decided to let Orion concentrate on the driving. At that point I knew that Orion and I were going to get along just fine.
The most frightening part of the journey was when Orion warned that he could see a checkpoint up ahead. It was not unusual for the militia to want to restrict access to the areas they controlled, so they frequently setup roadblocks and checkpoints on the main approach routes. It was unclear which side controlled the roadblock. They all wore irregular uniforms and we had no way of knowing whose territory we had strayed into. As we approached the checkpoint, Orion finally took off his sunglasses. That indicated to me that he was preparing for a risky encounter. He turned to look at me with a grave expression and I saw his eyes for the first time. He had quite deep set eyes that were big and bright and round. The whites showed quite prominently and it struck me how much they contrasted nicely against the dark skin of his face. It also accentuated the air of mystery about him. He was an extremely handsome young man. But I didn't have time to admire his pretty face. Orion told me to get into the back of the car and lie down on the floor out of sight. That was not easy, and I don't think even my lithe, usually quite flexible little body had performed a feat of such physical agility, despite the most outrageous carnal calisthenics I might have engaged in, and notwithstanding the convoluted sexual juxtapositions I might have achieved with the most adventurous of my tricks. Nevertheless, I managed it. I somehow weaved my slim frame between the gap in the front seats, throwing myself onto the back of the car and stretched myself out on the floor. Orion threw a coat over me, and various other things he had on the back seat, covering my legs with my own backpack, and there was also a blanket that made it look like stuff was just thrown onto the floor of the car.
It worked, because the car barely stopped as it approached the makeshift barrier. It paused briefly, during which there was an anxious wait and I detected the voice of the militiaman ask Orion a couple of questions through the half-open window. The engine was still running expectantly. I could hear Orion talking to the militiaman, and they even shared a laugh. At any rate, it seemed a good-natured exchange. I was relieved when the car moved off and we were on our way again in no time. Afterwards, I asked Orion why he had hidden me. He said that he was well known by all the militiamen in these parts - VLA and KAPO alike - but an unfamiliar face would not have been easy to explain, especially since these particular militiamen were VLA who, as we were well aware, were already on the lookout for clandestine shota boys.
Having crossed the tentative frontier, we pressed further and further into VLA territory, driving without stopping. We must have traversed the entire width of that sector, because the next roadblock was manned by the KAPO militia. I thought we must have travelled a significant distance to be in KAPO territory already. Fortunately, Orion knew when it was not safe to try and cross into KAPO territory. He saw a roadblock way ahead as we headed across hilly terrain from a little distance above them. Orion had binoculars, and could see who they were. He didn't know them. So he decided to play it safe. It was better to wait until nightfall, then find a way around the roadblock by going off-road under cover of darkness. He assured me that this stop was necessary, and that we would be on the road again as soon as it was safe. We were spared for the moment from the impending dangers of our treacherous journey. I accepted it with my usual air of resignation.
When Orion decided we should stop, he pulled the car off the road and into a stretch of thick forest, where we could hide in amongst the cover of the trees without being seen from the road. We penetrated deep into the forest, negotiating the undulating ground of the forest floor. We weaved through trees, bushes and other vegetation, where there was just enough space to squeeze through, and maneuvered the car around the younger saplings, crushing the more fragile brushwood. We stopped only when we were so far into the forest that there was no chance of anybody stumbling across our location by accident. There was a natural clearing where the trees were far enough apart to create a feeling of space, but where the canopy of the trees still provided ample shelter. The clearing was created by a fallen tree, the bare, almost rotten trunk, lying on its side, stripped of bark and foliage, and creating a natural barrier for us to sit on or shelter behind. It was a nice spot, so we decided to make the most of it.
It turned out that Orion had some more provisions in the trunk of the car, so we were not short of anything to eat or drink. There was some bread and cheese and a gallon container of drinking water. He fixed some hastily assembled sandwiches which were quite rudimentary, but nevertheless welcome, and he even had some slices of watermelon, cut into semicircular wedges. Having spent the last few hours together enclosed in the confined space of the car, we were by now quite comfortable in each other's presence, so it was actually quite pleasant sitting on that fallen tree trunk with Orion. It felt very much like an impromptu picnic. I realized that the last time I had been outdoors like this with an older boy was with Ciggy. That memorable picnic out in the Verolino countryside seemed like such a long time ago now.
When we had eaten our fill, we sat down on the ground, which was soft and mulchy, and leaned back against that fallen tree trunk, quite relaxed. Orion had discarded his baseball cap and sunglasses and looked almost ready to take a nap. I was sat a few feet away from him. I was huddled over, a little cold and disconsolate. It was chilly out there in the forest. Whilst I was relieved to finally get out of the car, I was also disappointed that we had had to put our progress on hold. Thoughts of seeing Ciggy were still uppermost in my mind, but once again, circumstances were preventing us from being together. But, once again Orion anticipated my thoughts and my mood. He must have sensed my dejectedness, because he turned to me, quite purposefully.
'Hey Cloud?'
I turned to look at him.
'Thinkin' about Ciggy?'
I nodded, wondering how he knew about Ciggy. I guess it was possible that Altair had told him.
'You'll see him soon enough,' he reassured me.
I flashed him a smile, bolstered by his encouraging tones, trying to see the positive side.
'Thanks,' I said, grateful for his optimism.
Then Orion held up an arm, as if to invite me to come closer, ready to put it around my shoulders. It was a lovely gesture.
'C'mere,' he said, smiling, 'you look as though you need a hug.'
It was said with genuine warmth and sincerity. I had no hesitation in scooting over towards him, dragging my butt over the soft earth and closing the gap between us so that I was pressed right up against his side. I could feel the substance and warmth of his lean, hard, teen body. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and that was when I could see how much bigger than me he was, because his arm was long enough to encircle my shoulders and hang down far enough so that his limp hand rested somewhere on my hip. His arm around me was strangely reassuring, and he even pulled me closer in a gesture of solidarity and, I hoped, affection. What I liked most about that gesture is that it acknowledged a basic shota boy principle, and a fundamental tenet of young males in general: that older boys always took care of the younger ones.
For a few moments there was silence, and my mind drifted away with thoughts of Ciggy. Even as these thoughts were going through my mind, I became aware of Orion's hand stroking my hip gently. He had slipped his fingers under the hem of my sports shirt and was gently feeling around the sides of my tummy. That was quite ticklish, although extremely arousing, and it made my tummy muscles quiver like mad. I loved having my tummy stroked. For the moment, I just let him do what he wanted. I had half suspected that we might fuck around at some point. He knew I was a shota boy. He probably knew I fancied him. It would have been unusual if he hadn't made a move on me. So I just let him stroke my tummy, and when he detected that I wasn't about to object, he slipped his whole forearm up under the front of my shirt and was feeling up my chest as well. His touch was very tactile but gentle, and his palm felt warm and soothing as it brushed against my skin. He even pressed his fingertips into my nipples. It was lovely.
As he was feeling up my chest and tummy, Orion inadvertently brushed his arm against my stiff little lump, and I detected a distinct flinch of hesitation from him. He must have noticed it. When he resumed his intimate touching, he soon progressed to feeling up my crotch. I was secretly wishing that he would because Little Cloud was so hard in my pants that he was aching to be squeezed. Much to my delight, seeing that I was not about to stop him, Orion moved his hand down to feel my boyshit properly. He could feel my stiffie through my pants, and dug his fingers into my crotch, pressing his hand into my hardened boyshit, causing little jolts of pleasure to shoot all through my horny little body. Then he stopped abruptly and looked at me, as though he had suddenly remembered something.
'You are okay with this aren't you?' he asked, 'I don't want to take advantage of you.'
He broke the spell somewhat by choosing to speak. I tried to stifle a snigger, but I couldn't help laughing. It was odd to me that he wanted to make sure I was okay with it, and I found it funny that he wanted to check in with me before he went any further. It was flattering - because he was so polite. But I thought it unnecessary. To me, there was no such thing as taking advantage. I was a shota boy. Sex was my raison d'être. Having my body used was second nature to me - I expected it. It was normal for guys to want to do stuff with me. Indeed, if a guy didn't show any sexual interest in me, I took is as an affront. I remembered only too well how crestfallen I was when Matti rebuffed my advances when I first arrived at Kolina. In a strange kind of way, my sexuality was the only thing I had that I could reciprocate with. My only weapon, my only bargaining tool. It was the only thing I had to give and I gave it willingly. Orion was risking his life for me - or at any rate his liberty - and I couldn't begin to understand his motivation, but I was grateful. I was grateful and I was hugely indebted to him. I was certainly not going to begrudge him a bit of furtive fucking around with a luscious little fuckboy like me.
'I'm okay with it,' I declared openly, 'I want you to do it.'
That made him smile. He twisted around, one arm still around my shoulders, and leaned over me, looking deep into my eyes. He squeezed my little erection through my pants, tightening his fingers through the fabric real hard. It hurt, and yet it was perversely pleasurable. It made me elicit a plaintive little squeal, and Orion seemed to like that. He gave a little smile of twisted delight, clearly aroused by it.
'Wow,' he exclaimed, 'You're a fuckin' horny little bastard aren't you?'
'You never played with a shota boy before?' I asked him.
He shook his head.
'No,' he said, smiling sheepishly, 'though I always wanted to. But I never thought I would have one as pretty as you.'
That was a real compliment. For somebody who purported to be so inexperienced, he certainly knew how to flatter his little companions.
With our mutual agendas now agreed, I extricated myself from his embrace. I wriggled out of his arms and moved down to play with his cock. He let me. I homed in on my target and wasted no time in getting his cock out. I undid his pants, quickly opening the front of his tight jeans, and delved a hand into his underwear. I flipped down the front of his loose boxers and exposed his hardened teen cock, nestling there in a wisp of thin pubes. It was burning hot. I fingered it gently for a while, getting a feel of its proportions, giving it a little squeeze and massaging the shaft a little up and down. It was a short, stubby little thing, quite compact for a boy of his age, but very pretty. It was nicely cut, with a faint little ridge around the base of the head where his circumcision scar was. I was amazed at how pink his cockhead was. For such a dark-skinned boy, it was strange that his cockhead was so light in color. It was lighter than mine, which was a dark reddish color. It was lighter even than Ten, who also had dark skin - only Ten's cockhead was a kind of reddish purple. For someone who had been afforded the opportunity to study dicks at such close proximity, I couldn't help comparing. What I liked was that Orion moved down so that he was lying more flat on the ground, with only his head propped up and he was studiously watching me blow him. He held the elastic waistband of his boxers flipped down with one hand, which left me with both hands free to play with his todger.
After inspecting his dick pretty closely, and kissing it gently, but not for too long, I scooted down, still lying next to him in the soft soil, and instantly buried his hot, hard rod into my mouth, fully devouring its modest length. His dick was clean and tasted good. He moaned loudly, overcome by the sensation. Tell the truth, I was so horned up for this boy that I wanted to feast on that pretty dick. Oh yeah! I was gonna blow him real good. I liked this boy. I liked this boy a lot. I was determined to give that magnificent teen fuckstick the works.
'Oh, that's so good!' he groaned.
I liked his vocalizations. Boys who were verbal during sex were a great turn-on for me. It was quite hot in a way and served to encourage me by ratcheting up the excitement. With a combination of mouth and hand action, I focused on bringing him off with a few well-placed sucks of my greedy little orifice, making his hardened todger slick and wet, coordinated with some expert jacking of his shaft in my warm little fist as the head was encased in the back of my throat.
'Don't stop!' he cried, really getting into it.
I thought that was funny, almost reminiscent of the old porn flicks I'd seen. But I suppressed the impulse to laugh. Always the consummate fuckboy, I focused on the task in hand.
'Oh, make me cum!' he was moaning.
Which is exactly what I endeavored to do. As I jacked him, he squirmed about on the ground, biting his lip, closing his eyes, tossing his head around, loving what I was doing. I liked the way he was throwing his head back and licking his lips. He was really into it and I was inordinately turned on by the fact that my ministrations were having such an effect on him. He was still holding the front of his boxers down with one hand, just below his balls, with his thumb hooked over the elastic waistband, and he started to hold my head with the other. As the pleasure intensified, he was awkwardly pushing my mouth onto his rampant teen rod. It was a little distracting, but I knew from experience that it was also instinctive. Guys can't resist the temptation to push a shota boy's head onto their dick when it's buried balls-deep into their willing little fuckboy mouth.
When Orion started to breathe faster and the paradise stroke approached, he stopped writhing around for a moment and looked straight at me. I saw the incredulous look in his eyes as I tilted my head to look at him, his todger still clamped in my jaw.
'Oh shit! I'm gonna cum in your mouth!'
Like he needed to announce it! I looked up briefly and smiled slyly, which was the only answer he required. I impaled my head on his straining boycock once more, and used my teeth to bite gently around the sensitive area just below the rim of his cockhead. It had the desired effect. His cock exploded and he moaned loudly, shooting a long squirt of watery teen spunk into the back of my throat, which was expertly caught and swallowed. His dick ejected a good few squirts, filling my mouth two or three times over with warm teen jizz. His teen sperm was runny and gloopy and tasted very fresh and clean. It had a slightly oily texture, but with a vaguely earthy undertaste, not altogether unpleasant. I swallowed it all down in a series of eager little gulps. I didn't waste a drop.
When it was over, Orion stopped writhing around and looked at me with amazement. I raised my head, extracting his thick shaft from between my lips, and he smiled, shocked and delighted. He was sweaty and red-faced. It was that same old look of perved-out incredulity that I had become familiar with. It was infinitely gratifying.
'You fuckin' swallowed it!' he exclaimed.
I could see him struggling to assimilate that as he came down from the trauma of his cum. I smiled complicitly, and nodded with a smug grin. He really hadn't been with a shota boy before.
Orion took a few moments to recover. He released the waistband of his boxers, thus putting his dick away, though the outline of that big teen fuckstick was still visible, now spent, but still very much erect. Then another thought seemed to occur to him.
'What about you?' he asked, pointing to my crotch.
It surprised me a little because I wasn't used to having my own needs considered. Most guys, once they were off the boil, were not concerned about relieving my arousal. After they had had their orgasm, they couldn't care less about giving me one. Besides, my cum was only of secondary importance when I was performing, unless my tricks wanted to get off on watching me. But I was so horned up from sucking Orion, I really did want to cum. I wanted to spunk up real bad. Tell the truth, Little Cloud was hurting to the point of distraction.
'You wanna watch me?' I suggested.
He nodded enthusiastically, his eyes widening with an ever greater incredulity, perhaps not quite believing that he was stuck out here with this dirty little fuckboy who was prepared to do probably all the things he had secretly dreamed of.
'Fuck yeah! I wanna see you cum!' and then he added, as an afterthought, 'You CAN cum, can't you?'
'A little,' I replied, nodding.
'I wanna fuckin' see that!' he enthused, 'I've never seen a young boy cum before.'
'Okay,' I said, 'but will you do something for me?'
'Sure,' he said, nodding eagerly.
'Take your shirt off for me?'
He looked surprised for a moment, but was nevertheless quiescent. He gave a flippant little shrug and then, thinking no more of it, rose up and slipped off the thin t-shirt over his head. It mussed up his floppy hair, which left him looking a little ruffled. But it was very sexy.
He threw his shirt aside recklessly and leaned back against the fallen tree trunk, now shirtless. His pants were still open and his dick was still hard in his boxers, no doubt aroused by the prospect of watching me. For the first time I got to see his beautiful dark-skinned physique in all its glory, and it was every bit as perfect as I imagined. His body was still very boyish, young and smooth and yet the well-defined contours of his pecs and abs clearly demonstrated that he was just teetering on the cusp of manhood. Little Cloud was at full mast, inordinately aroused by this gorgeous teen boy, and I knew then that looking at him was going to make me cum real hard. He was so beautiful I wanted to jack my kidspunk all over him.
I got up on my knees, quite close to him, and slipped my pants and boxer briefs halfway down my thighs, exposing my boyshit to him for the first time. Little Cloud fell out, eagerly seeking fulfillment, craving a damn good thrashing. Orion's big, bright eyes widened.
'That's a fuckin' neat dick,' Orion gasped, 'A good size for a boy your age.'
'Thanks,' I replied, chuffed.
I took hold of my little dick, curling my fingers around it, and started working it up and down. Orion smiled with illicit pleasure.
'Oh yeah, jack that fuckin' dick for me!'
As usual, it only took a couple of minutes before I could feel the familiar burn of impending pleasure. The approaching ecstasy was all the more accelerated by the proximity of this sexy boy, his shirtless body stripped bare just for me. And when I was ready to spunk, I rose up onto my knees and put my dick close to him. I hunched over him desperately, seeking the inordinate thrill of seeing my unripe boyspunk splash on his hot teen body, hoping maybe I would get some of my meager kidspunk on those beautiful pecs and abs. Orion sensed when I was close and instinctively lowered his head, thus reciprocating the favor by sticking out his tongue. It was a good, hard cum, all the more powerful for the sense of release. I gasped as my kiddiespunk was ejected, and it was great to see my three little jets of transparent boyjizz lash his tongue, which was almost as light pink as his cockhead. Orion swallowed it too, in one big gulp, even showing me his clean tongue and empty mouth afterwards, pleased with himself. It was a fantastic cum. I only wished I had spunked more so that I could fill his eager mouth as good as he had mine.
* * * * * *
We hid in the forest as long as we dared and then Orion judged the right moment to get back on the road. It was already the dead of night when he fired up the car's engine again, shattering the long reign of silence that had pervaded our sojourn under cover of the trees. We negotiated a path back through the darkened woods, which were pitch black and very eerie at that time of night, eventually clambering back onto the smooth camber of the road. I don't remember much about the treacherous nighttime part of our journey. I was already exhausted from having been on the road all day, so while Orion drove, I tried to sleep. There was nothing to see. It was all black outside. We were just a small speck in the unseen vastness of the Verolino countryside, a panorama of nothingness which stretched out before us and enveloped us in darkness. The only reassuring thing was the drone of the car's engine and Orion sitting next to me. Our fate was entirely in his hands.
I don't know how long I slept for, but it seemed like quite a long time. I remember it because the next thing I knew I was being violently roused from what had been a very pleasant kip by my head lolling around in the big leather seat. The car was negotiating rough terrain, where the road surface had cracked and broken, probably because of the endless passage of heavy armor - alas, something these roads were never designed to cope with. I was quickly pulled out of my drowsy reverie to see Orion fighting with the steering wheel, trying to maneuver the big car over this precarious topography. I saw the car's headlamps shining out over the road ahead, cutting two sharp beams into the darkness, and it was possible to make out the jagged protruding corners of the cracked road surface, some parts sunk into the earth, others sticking up in places. The big engine was screaming in a very low gear as the car was thrown around, lurching all over the place on the broken ground. Orion saw me wake up and smiled, and his mellifluous, husky voice piped up.
'Hang on Cloud, we've run into a bit of turbulence.'
Even as he said it, I was grasping for my seat and the grab-handle on the door pillar, trying to prevent myself from being thrown around. I bounced around a little, and a lot of the forgotten paraphernalia inside the cabin was spilling out all over the place, dropping off the center console and there was stuff rolling around on the floor under the seats.
It was then that disaster struck. Our journey was suddenly and violently curtailed. I can't say with any certainty that I even know exactly what happened. I think maybe, in the darkness, we drove over a landmine. In any case there was a blinding flash, during which the darkness was turned instantaneously into day, followed a millisecond later by a loud explosion, and a powerful thud, like some giant unseen fist had punched the underside of the car, launching the heavy vehicle several feet into the air. I don't remember coming back down. I think maybe at that point I had already lost consciousness. I came to some minutes later, still strapped into my seat, aware that the car had come to rest at a funny angle, tilted forward with the back rising up behind me and the nose buried into the ground. The hood of the car was crushed like a concertina and embedded in grass and mud. There was steam rising from under the crumpled metal, but absolute silence. I was aware that I was stuck in the car and couldn't get out. My head was hurting and I wasn't able to move very much. That is all I remember. I must have drifted in and out of consciousness. I was very disorientated, at times barely aware of where I was, and this confusion was interspersed with lapses in consciousness and memory.
I think I must have slept on and off, not having the strength to get out of the car. I remember nothing more until I woke up the following morning, still strapped into the passenger seat. I was aware of daylight around me. It was chilly and my head was hurting. I was still somewhat dazed and not really sure of what had happened. All I was sure of at this point was that the Outlander had left the road and was at the bottom of a steep embankment. It was tilted at such an angle that one corner of the mangled car was buried in the soft earth and undergrowth, whilst only the rear end was visible from the road. I was able to turn my head just enough to see that the driver's seat was empty. The airbag had deployed and was now deflated, lying limply over the warped steering wheel. But the driver's door was open and Orion was gone. I vaguely recall that I was pleased he had obviously managed to escape the wreck, although that saddened me because I suddenly realized that I was totally alone.
After a long time had passed, I heard the sound of distant voices. At first I thought I had imagined it. But then the sound of murmurs and conversation became more tangible and distinct. They were getting closer. The voices were young - high pitched and unbroken. Obviously the chatter of young boys. Perhaps at last I was going to be rescued. I remember seeing young faces at the window. They did help me, hauling open the buckled passenger door and extricating me from the twisted, mangled hulk of the stricken car. They then hauled me up the steep, muddy, slippery embankment and up onto the road. Unfortunately, once there, I found myself staring straight into the machinegun nozzles of the Halcyon League. The face that greeted me struck a jolt of terror right through me. It was the same patrol leader that had visited the inn the previous day, and both his cohorts were again standing behind him with their machineguns also pointed at me. I recognized all three faces.
'Look Steine, it's one of the innkeeper's boys,' one of them announced.
The patrol leader stepped forward for a closer inspection. His face lit up in perverse recognition.
'You certainly get around,' he said, with a note of sarcasm.
I looked at him standing there in his immaculate blue and white uniform with the purple neckerchief, and the skulking bear motif on the breast pocket. His thick, dark, fuzz of closely shorn hair under that tilted sidecap and those mysterious eyes. He was so handsome, so well groomed, and yet so menacing.
'Where's the driver?' he demanded, obviously having noted the vacant driver's seat.
'I don't know,' I said, holding my head, which was still hurting savagely from the impact.
'You're a long way from home,' he went on, 'Where were you going?'
I remembered what Orion had said about not giving away too much information and, whilst I was unable to disguise the fact that I was clearly in transit, I was loath to tell him anything for fear of implicating Orion.
'I can't tell you that,' I said, not wanting to give anything away.
Steine narrowed his eyes in a hostile way, clearly peeved by my non-compliance.
'Why can't you tell me?'
'I'm sorry, I can't tell you that either.'
He didn't like that and let out a frustrated huff, tilting his machine-pistol at me threateningly. For a few moments we stood there in a psychological standoff, during which I could see he was contemplating ways to subjugate me, at least metaphorically.
'Search the car,' he ordered.
The other two boys shouldered their machine-pistols and set about clambering over the stricken and twisted Outlander, pulling open the doors and tailgate and rummaging about inside. Steine and I watched them. Then Steine did something quite unexpected. He lowered his machinegun, clutching it by the stock, with the barrel pointing to the ground by his feet, and the strap fell off his shoulder and whipped the dusty ground. Then he stepped closer to me in a quite benevolent, unthreatening manner.
'Go on, tell me the truth,' he said quietly, so the other boys couldn't hear, 'You're a shota boy, aren't you?'
He acted as though he wanted to be friends, like he was asking me to confide in him and reassuring me that I could trust him. And for a moment I was very nearly taken in by him.
'What makes you think that?' I asked him.
'You're too good-looking to be working for the Resistance,' he replied, 'Besides, it's pretty obvious you've never done any manual work in your life.'
It was a double-edged remark - flattering, yet presumptuous at the same time. I could easily have taken exception to the accusation that I had never done any manual work. Sure, I may not have had the telltale muscles of manual labor nor tanned and weather-beaten skin from toiling outdoors, but that was not to say that the work of a shota boy was not physically arduous at times. The events of the New Years Eve Bacchanal quickly flashed through my mind and I remembered quite clearly what a feat of physical endurance that was. It took real strength and stamina to pull that off successfully, not to mention a great deal of fortitude and perseverance.
'I guess you'll never know,' I replied, thus confirming that I was resolved to tell him nothing.
'Then you leave me no choice,' he said curtly.
'Take him in!' he called out to the other boys, gesturing towards me with his machinegun.
The other two boys came over, having found nothing of interest in the wrecked car, and manhandled me over to their truck. They put me into the back of their truck. It was probably the same truck they had used when they took away the two poor refugee boys from the inn the day before. We all clambered up into the truck and we sat on the wooden benches on each side. Then one of the boys turned to their leader once again.
'What do we do now Steine?'
'Take him to the Lieutenant, ' Steine replied, 'He'll decide what to do.'
The truck started up and we all held on as the high vehicle negotiated the bumps and potholes in the road. As we left the scene, and the truck pulled away, I was saddened to see the mangled wreck of the Outlander, still face down in the embankment, marking the spot where my brief, illicit flight across Verolino had ended. Since this was now the umpteenth time that some unforeseen occurrence had prevented my reunion with Ciggy, I was starting to question my lack of good fortune and whether it was ever really meant to be. Every single time, some element of this stupid war had diverted me from my destiny. A boy with lower self-esteem might easily have been forgiven for wondering if it was worth the effort, having long ago thrown his hands up in the air and given up the fight. But not me. Luckily, I still had some fight left in me. And somehow I suspected, perhaps now more than ever, in the travails that I now knew would inevitably follow, I was definitely going to need it.
The Halcyon League Boys fingered their machine-pistols the whole time in the back of the truck, zealously guarding me as though I was some valuable trophy. Silence reigned, other than the strained growl of the big diesel engine of the vehicle. What followed was an arduous journey, during which we were driven at speed across the devastated landscape of Verolino. I got thrown around a little in the back of the high vehicle, so that I had to hold on to the rails on the side. We were in turn passed in the other direction by a column of tanks and SPGs, all heavy with ragged VLA infantrymen clinging to the sides like limpets. They were probably returning from the front. The soldiers were clustered to the hulls of the armored vehicles like bees, hanging onto the turrets and gun barrels. These troops had the cheerless demeanor of defeat about them, looking weary, bloody, muddy and demoralized, the air of having been utterly trounced, despite their superior equipment and numbers, and I wondered just who the hell who was actually winning this war.
Eventually the truck slowed down and we arrived at a busy complex. It was surrounded by a high fence, lined with razor wire. Inside, there was a vast expanse of open ground that was busy with preparations for war. Platoons of uniformed VLA troops were hastily assembling in serried ranks on a paved parade ground. Beyond that, there were rows upon rows of VLA tanks and SPGs neatly arranged in smart ranks around the perimeter. On the far side there were several large mounds of what was clearly ammunition - wooden crates of HE rounds, mortar shells and rocket-propelled grenades, stacked as high as houses, like miniature mountains, barely disguised by mesh nets and tarpaulins. The place must have been some kind of VLA headquarters, or at least a supply depot and ammo dump.
The truck stopped by a very low concrete structure. I couldn't call it a building because it had no windows. It had sloping sides, with the walls fixed at a steep incline, and looked like it was sunk into the ground. It was a forbidding, sinister looking place, obviously a bunker of some kind. The Halcyon League boys, this time with their machineguns slung over their shoulders, ushered me towards the only opening in the structure, a narrow slit in the side that served as an entrance, and down a steep flight of concrete steps that seemed to descend into the earth.
Inside, the air was hot and stagnant. I could feel the change in atmosphere as soon as we entered. A heavy steel door was slammed shut behind us with an unsympathetic clang, thus blocking out the daylight. The transition to fluorescent electric light was tangible, and did not have the hue nor the intensity of natural sunlight. Once inside, we descended endless flights of welded metal steps, built into a deep concrete shaft, so that our footsteps echoed throughout. You could see all the way down to the bottom through the slots in the metal treads, giving a real sense of how deep it was. We descended several levels. I could feel the slight change in air pressure in my ears, so I knew we must have been pretty deep underground. I was taken down into the very bowels of this concrete bunker, deep beneath the complex. It was an anodyne, soulless place, with nothing but bare concrete walls and bare concrete floors. It must have been a relic of the Cold War, probably made of reinforced concrete that was designed to withstand airstrikes.
At the bottom, I was escorted along a very long corridor with many doors leading off it. The ceilings were oppressively low and all the doors were made of reinforced steel, clearly designed to hold up against enemy bombing. The bare concrete floor had little puddles in it. Even though it was deep underground, you could tell that the drainage system was fucked because rainwater accumulated at various intervals in the echoing passageways. At least I assumed it was rainwater. The dank, musty, fetid atmosphere stank of mildew and dampness.
'What is this place?' I asked, quite loudly, and my voice echoed off the bare concrete walls.
'Shh!' Steine demanded, 'No talking.'
'What are you gonna do with me?' I asked.
'No talking!' Steine snapped again.
We turned several corners left and right in a disorientating network of passageways, which gave a real sense of how extensive the bunker was. The part above ground was literally only the tip of the iceberg, as the bulk of the structure was completely hidden under the ground. The whole place was teeming with VLA personnel, most of them in their distinctive field-gray uniforms, but there were also legions of plain clothes civilian staff and of course a sizeable contingent of Halcyon League boys.
Eventually, I was put into a room on my own and the metal door slammed shut behind me. The door was so heavy it made the whole room shudder as it closed. A weighty lock scraped into place and then the Halcyon League boys walked away. I could hear their footsteps receding down the passageway. I looked around me. The room was small, barely bigger than a prison cell. The fact that there were no windows added to the sense of claustrophobia. It was completely bare, save for a solitary fluorescent light in the ceiling and a small metal ventilation grille very high up on one wall.
I suddenly felt very frightened. Confused, lonely, lost and beleaguered, I sank down onto the cold concrete floor, propped up against one of the walls, wondering what was going to happen. I wished Ciggy was here with me. He would know what to do. Not knowing what the VLA had in store was perhaps the most frightening thing. Their ideology concerning shota boys was very clear. Of course I had heard Chip's account of what had happened to him and Guus and the other boys when the Saxon Club was raided. They had all been taken prisoner by the VLA. The very same thing had happened to River and his club, so the portents did not bode well. On top of that, my head was still hurting. I had a throbbing, tender lump on the side of my head that was extremely sore. I had double vision and was finding it difficult to focus my eyes. In fact I had a debilitating headache that was sending sharp jolts of blinding pain right into my brain, making me feel both dizzy and nauseous. It must have been from hitting my head. I knew I had lost consciousness when the car crashed, so it must have been a hefty blow, probably from striking the door pillar or the ceiling, either in the initial landmine explosion, or when the car came to land face down in the embankment. I needed to rest my head. There was no bedding, so I slipped off my shirt and rolled it up into a makeshift pillow. Despite my pain and discomfort, and the glare of the fluorescent light, I laid down on the cold concrete and, having nothing else to do, tried to sleep.
* * * * * *