Date: Mon, 03 Oct 2016 12:36:18 +0300 From: Ivan Ivanocich Subject: Dima's Choirboys 16 This story contains scenes of a mild sexual nature and if you are not allowed to read it please don't. If you are not old enough please don't. If by reading this you are breaking any laws in your country, then please do not read any further. If however you do, you can legally and want to, then read on and enjoy the story. Please DO NOT make copies, or post this. Soon, Gena was spunking too, leaning back against the wall whilst sitting on his bench, screwing his toes up tightly looking like a little boy having his first wank! "Oh. My fuck; it's coming," he groaned, leaning forward for a moment. "Shoot it proudly, Mate!" Oleg encouraged and – fucking puberty! – he did! For an eleven-year-old ("Nearly fucking twelve, Mate!" Gena just reminds us) he shot an impressive jet of mature spunk and active sperm across the changing room, followed by another, high into the air, before finishing off with some minor outpourings and collapsing backwards, his hands falling to his side. "`Classic!' as Dima would say if he were here, Kirill commentated. "Think it's a draw between Oleg and Gena! Gena because of his fucking bush and Oleg for the extra spunk and big knob and balls!" The boys had been so engrossed in their ministrations that they had not noticed the entry of a small boy, who was standing, wide-eyed, as he watched, fingering his own penis through the material of his underpants. It was eleven-year-old Yarik, whom the boys had noticed was starting pubes when they saw his him the shower earlier. "Pashka, when will you come to tell our story? The guys are waiting!" he said, as if he had seen them just drinking tea together. "It's okay, my little one," Pasha replied, getting his shorts and shirts on. "I'm coming now; we were just finishing washing," he added, rather guiltily, as he took the little boy by the hand and led him away. "See you guys in the morning!" he called back to the others. "So, what did you see in there?" Pasha asked in casual manner as they walked the corridor. "Oh nothing of course; just you guys being rather normal," he replied, squeezing Pasha's hand rather knowingly, as they entered the dormitory. "Sorry boys, I was busy with some tasks. Do you want a ghost story?" Pasha asked as he sat on the side of his bed. The boys jumped up immediately and came and huddled together on Pasha's bed, Yarik fighting for a place next to his hero. "A very frightening one, to make us sleep," little Roma commanded, snuggling up to Pasha on the other side. And so, Pasha told the most frightening tale, with his arms comfortingly around his charges, a story enough to keep the boys awake all night but soon, it seems, all were ready to sleep. "It seems to me that you are ready to sleep," Pasha said softly. "Can I sleep here with you?" Roma asked, lying flat on Pasha's bed in just his pants, as they got ready. "No, my little man," Pasha said, lifting the boy and carrying him over to his bed and kissing his cheek. "Oh, your tash tickels," Roma giggled, getting ready to sleep. Soon, Pasha had settled them all down, and he went last of all to little Yarik, who was waiting for him. Pasha kissed him on the cheek, like the others, but Yarik, took his finger and pointed to his mouth. "My father always kisses me like that," whispered the cute boy with chestnut hair and a Slavic face," so Pasha obliged by kissing him warmly on the lips, a sensation, Yarik did not want to release for some seconds. "Sleep now, my little one," Pasha bid him and went back to his own bed to sleep. He lay awake for some time until he thought all were asleep before going to his dreams too. It did not seem very long, but maybe it was an hour later, when Pasha was awakened by a soft hand touching his face. At first he thought he was dreaming, but saw Yarik's face in the dim light. "Pashka, I can't sleep," he whispered, sitting on the boy's bed. "What is it my cute one, was it the story that frightened you?" "No, it is something else, but I don't like to tell" the boy replied. Pasha felt the boy's hand and it was trebling. "Tell, Pasha," he whispered. "I promise I will make it okay." "You won't be angry? Well, here goes! I can't sleep because my penis is swollen very hard and it won't go down. So, now you know! And I turned for a long time but it is worse now, look!" he said, showing Pasha a now very long and hard penis still mostly covered by the skin. "It's okay: it will pass. At your age there is an overproduction and it will often happen, and you will soon know what to do," he said, gently pulling the boy's pants back up to cover the erection, which was flat against the boy's stomach. "Pasha, Will you be angry? I know what I want you to do, but I can't ask you." "Whisper it in my ear and I will promise not to laugh." Yarik then went close up to Pasha's ear and whispered his request. Pasha was a bit surprised but hid it. "You want me to do to your penis what I did to your mouth earlier?" Yarik didn't answer but just stood up in front of Pasha, who had sat up in his bed, and tugged down his black pants again, exposing his mature-looking member. It was certainly very hard and swollen and the balls were quite bulbous and much larger than most 11-year-olds. Pasha ran his fingers round the base feeling for the few hairs he had clearly seen in the shower. "Please, Pasha; it will go down if you suck it," the boy pleaded. Perhaps Pasha had been mistaken and the boy was inexperienced, or perhaps he was a master of seduction! Carefully, Pasha took the long member in his fingers and quite easily slid the skin right back exposing the milk-white head, which was glistening in the dim light. All that was left to do was to take it gently in his mouth and place his hands on the boy's inviting buttocks and he gently sucked and massaged the balls. "Oh, it won't take long,now, - I'll spunk soon," the boy whispered, catching short breaths. Pasha was almost expecting a dry orgasm but soon he felt beautiful but sweet and salty juice shoot strongly to the back of his mouth, and the penis jumped several times followed by two lesser shots. The boy sighed and was finished and tried. "Thanks Pashka, I can sleep now," he said, kissing him on the mouth again. "And I love you very much". He pulled up his pants, his erection much diminished, and disappeared to his bed, falling into a beautiful sleep. "Oh my fucking, bastard spunker!" Pasha thought. Krill is right. How is it that small boys fall for me?" And now he had the same problem as little Yarik, but no-one to relieve him. But he had had a massive release earlier so it subsided quite quickly, and Pasha soon fell again into sleep, waking next morning wondering if it had been a dream. Soon, all were ready and on the small bus by nine o'clock to go to the camp facility where they would have breakfast. "Pasha, I always thought you would be a great leader of men," Dima the Director told him after he had observed him getting his small boys ready. "They would do anything for you, I can see it". "Oh, thank you, Dima; of course I would do anything for them," he replied thinking about his friend Yarik, who was happily sitting on the bus chatting to his friends. Just then he saw the lecher Igor, the security guard, loading some provisions into the baggage hold of the bus. Pasha had observed him talking to Yarik and little Roma earlier, with his hand on Yarik's bottom. Not unusual in itself with adults and small children, but Pasha knew what the man was up to. Before he got on the bus he went over to talk to him. "So, you like the new little boys, Igor?" he asked, as the man had stopped to smoke. "What is it to you? You don't even belong to this school." "Not true," Pasha shot back; "In this camp I am official leader of the small boys, and it is for me to look after them and see them safe." "Not official, I think!" Igor replied knowingly! "To be leader you must be aged 17, and have official papers, and you are just 15, and rather small, despite your tash and hardened voice to seem big. But we will help one another," he said, putting out his cigarette. "Don't worry about your little boys. I'll leave them for you," he finished, and as they were leaning into the baggage hold, Igor got behind Pasha and roughly pressed his hard penis into his arse between the buttocks and felt his ample balls with the other. Pasha let him have his moment of ecstasy, which was not long in coming, before breaking away roughly, feeling the two had come to a silent understanding. "Hey, Pashka; what were you talking to that cunt Igor about for so long?" Kirill whispered as he sat next to his best friend. "Tell you later," he whispered back. "I don't want my little ones to hear," he finished, patting his friend on the leg and settling down for the journey. "Heh, Pasha," little Roma called. "Is it true that your beautiful voice has failed and you can no longer sing. "I'm afraid so, my little one. It happens to all boy sopranos in time." "But little Dima is 16 and still has perfect voice," Yarik joined in. "Don't worry, Yark: Dima has a slower puberty and good training, so he will sing for some time yet. It does not make him unusual, just lucky in part, and grateful that he has such a good teacher in our Dimitry Petrovich. I'll explain it all to you tonight," he added. He thought he saw Yarik flush a little; he certainly smiled as he sat back in his seat. "What will you sing for me, guys?" Pasha asked. "What do you want? Some Soviet songs, knowing your tastes," Sasha replied. "Good idea," joked Pasha, because tomorrow Gleb will have us practising his religious music. "There's nothing wrong with church and sacred music, it is my favourite," Kirill retorted. "And don't forget your dear Comrade Stalin loved it too. "Yes, yes; I know all this information and love it too. Oleg, you have your guitar? Can you fetch it from the back of the bus." The boy obeyed and spent some moments tuning it. "So, you know "The Blue Wagon" [it is an old Pioneer song]. Oleg thought so and tried some chords. "Give me the guitar please, if you don't mind. That is too low for our voices," Kirill demanded. With that the boy gladly gave the instrument to Kirill who, after correcting some poor tuning, and calling Oleg a fool, struck up in a beautiful key and then the boys began to sing. "Shut up, Pasha," we don't like your new voice!" Kirill called out in jest as they heard him trying to sing bass. "You will soon have one like it," he replied. "Try to sing contralto a third lower than us: here is the line," Kirill replied and then demonstrated expertly," before going back to the soprano part. Their choirmaster, Dimitry was listening from the front of the bus. "Not bad contralto, Pashka;" you could train that voice: Kirill will help you," he called. "Here is another one for Comrade Pashka – or is it Colya? – [ a joke only picked up by those who knew Stalin's pet name]," Kirill called: " `Let there be Sunshine' – And Comrade Sashka, take the solos, like you did in the concert." Soon Sasha was displaying his light and floating voice which had a very emotional tone and was very suited to many types of music. "Not bad, Sashka: can you sing that English duet, `Pie Jesu,' Dimitry Petrovich called to him and Kirill. "The rest can harmonise the chorus and I will put in the bass." "Okay, Guys, let's do it!" Sasha said. "Kirill find the correct solfage. Who will take the first part? – I? " "Guys, you know it from the concert last year," Kirill stated as he gave the note." And so the boys sang beautifully and it was wonderful to hear the voices of Kirill and Sasha blend together in perfect harmony, because they were very musical, and Kirill, despite his rough and rude way with his friends, was very cultured. As we know, he has a powerful and delicate soprano voice like Sasha but, unlike Sasha, a rich second soprano and contralto voice too on account of his stage of puberty. "That was great," Pasha whispered to Kirill. I wish I still had your voice." "Shut up, you blue cunt: it just gives you an erection to hear it," his friend answered, resting his hand on his hairy leg and touching something hard. Remember, friends, that Pasha is the only true "blue" boy in our company and his fantasy is really rough boys. Kirill is half-so, and as for the others, it's just normal messing around with their friends. And so, our friends soon found themselves in the camp in a nice shaded forest with a lake, and who should be waiting for them outside the living house (corpus) but our old friend Gleb and his friend Ilya. Remember that Ilya, like Oleg, is a newcomer to the school, so he was a bit shy, but he soon felt at home after they had greeted each other. "Gleb, you old friend; you haven't changed a bit," Kirill joked, hugging him. "Just a bit taller, that's all," he replied, still in his soft, silky voice, which somehow had taken on a more sexy appeal in a boy of his stature and bearing, now almost like a Greek God! He and Ilya had arrived some hour before and had already changed into nice camp clothes of blue shirt and cotton shorts. "Hello, Gleb. Hello, Ilya," Dimitry Petrovich greeted them with a kiss. "Did you have a good summer?" "Yes, of course. Ilya came to stay with me after I came back from the Church Camp and we gave some concerts together and earned some money that way," he replied. "Guys, I have presents for you all - You too, Dimitry Petrvich. But later perhaps!" "Take your friend to the rooms, Gleb. I think you have the list from the administrator. And remember breakfast will be in 30 minutes in the canteen." "Yes, of course. Come guys, we have nice rooms. I will show you." And with that he led the boys onto the first floor where they had three very nice rooms and a large room for playing games and activities. At the end of the corridor, there was a room with five beds. "This is for Pasha and his little men," Gosha, Max, Yarik and Roman were to sleep with Pasha but Oleg, the other new boy, being older, would sleep with the others. "So, there are five beds in each of the other two rooms, so we can divide it up. Maybe Gena, Sasha, Oleg, Peter and Victor will sleep in one room and I Ilya, Kirill, and Dima – when he comes, will have the smaller room." This seemed agreeable to all, especially as the rooms were adjacent. "Go and unpack your things," Pasha told his boys. "I am not going to be your servant. Put all the baggage in the baggage room next to the drying room here and let me see the room tidy in 15 minutes. I am going to talk to my friends for some time." When Pasha entered the other rooms he found his friends opening little packets. "Here is yours, Pasha," Gleb said, as he gave him a small packet. "They are all little icons, so we can set them up on that table with some candles," Gleb continued. All his friends were used to Gleb's icons by now, except for Oleg, who was a new boy. But even he was touched by the thought and admitted they were very beautiful presents. "I see you mean to keep us very holy, Gleb," Kirill said. "What did I say, guys but Gleb would come back in a very holy mood." "So, you can take these to your computers at home and put them near, and if you look at anything you wouldn't want the icon to see, you know it is wrong to look," Gleb continued. "If you can't control yourself, you can turn the icon to the wall," he added with his winning smile. "Is this what you have been learning in your church camp, Gleb?" Pasha asked. "Oh yes, and it works very well," he replied, going out to take his presents to the little boys in the other room. "Fucking hell, he's not going to stop us having fun is he?" Oleg asked after Gleb had gone out. "Don't worry, mate!" Kirill replied. "Fucking puberty, he's the worst of us all really when he gets going, and you should see his knob, it's bigger than yours, Oleg!" The others all agreed that Gleb was really the greatest guy around, and remembered their plan to get him with a girl in the camp. Pasha then went back to inspect his boys' room and found it in fair condition, but thought he should find some fault, as it is not the Russian way to give small children praise lightly. "Well, not bad, but the beds are creased and that bag must go to the baggage room," he commanded. "I close my eyes for one minute an then I will open to find you standing by your beds and all correct." Pasha closed his eyes and heard scurrying in the room; and when he opened them he was please to see all correct and the boys to attention. "Pashka, you are worse than my teacher," Yarik joked. "Of course, because I am your Captain and you my Kadets," Pasha replied. "Come, boys; let's go to breakfast; I hear the bell in the Parade Ground." Misha, the Sports teacher, who was in overall charge of the group was waiting for the boys somewhat annoyed. "You forgot to appoint someone to lay our tables in the canteen," he reprimanded. "Who will go?" Kirill said he would go and take one of the small boys to help, so he and Roma ran off to do the tasks. By the time the others had walked down slowly through the parade square and games' areas to the canteen, the tales were almost ready set with typical camp food of porridge, bread, cheese and butter and cocoa. "Now boys, if you don't eat your kasha, you will never be strong. Our Soviet Army marched on meat and kasha and won the Great Patriotic War like that," he added. "Guys, who poured this cocoa into the mugs?" he continued. "Was it you, Roman?" "Yes, Pasha, I tried not to spill it from the kettle," the little boy replied, his face falling. "Well, for you, it is not bad. If it had been Kirill, I would have killed him because he poured some in my porridge," he joked. "Eat properly, George [Gosha] and don't lean into the plate like a village person with no manners." The others were watching this with amusement from the next table, and Kirill and Gleb with pride, because they both loved Pasha very much. If Gleb had not been such a nice boy, Kirill would have felt pangs of jealousy, but he never felt one and was content to share his friend with both Gleb and James! And Pasha, how does he feel? All will be revealed here when James arrives at the camp and there is deep conversation between Kirill, Gleb, Pasha and James! But for now, the boys finished their breakfast and cleared the tables. There was shortly to be a training session for their voices, taken by Dimitry. As Pasha was wasn't involved, he would have some free time and plan some activates for the boys in the afternoon. Misha had asked him to visit the camp of the Kadet Corpus and another camp which were using the place to study nature and science. The Kadets were living in the same building but on another floor, but the artistic camp was in the next building. The leaders were very interested to hear about the choir boys and immediately invited them to perform at their evening show that night. "Yes, of course; I am sure we can bring some solos and a chorus or two. It will be great!" Pasha agreed. Pasha then went over to the Kadet boys, two of whom he saw smoking on the edge of the forest, and he soon realised that they were not very cultured, but he knew how to talk to them in their own language, and soon struck up a form of working. They agreed on a football game that afternoon, and Pasha thought this a useful start. "We have got just eight boys of your ages: I don't want the little ones playing," he said. "We've got some little cunts too," Vova, one of the boys, aged about 14 replied, rudely spitting on the ground; and he pointed out six small, young looking guys in the distance. "Okay, agreed: they can play our younger boys, maybe tomorrow," Pasha stated, looking closely at Vova who was a well-built boy in military uniform with strong hips and the beginnings of a lowering voice, which cracked sometimes when he spoke. "You got any girls in your camp?" Vova asked, now in soprano tones! "No, you wanker, it's a boys' choir; and we don't want slags from the village, if you are offering them." "Shut the fuck up and listen, you cunt," he said, walking Pasha into the forest with another boy, Peter, whom Pasha immediately felt a stirring for and noticed he was looking at the bulge in his shorts. "You visited the artistic camp and they have some girls there. Can you get us invited to meet them?" he asked, offering Pasha a cigarette. "We'll talk about this tomorrow, maybe," Pasha replied, looking at the cute Peter, who still had a light if rather common voice. He was wearing just green nylon shorts and sports' shoes, and Pasha could see he wasn't wearing pants under his shorts, for his balls were hanging very loosely in the wide-legged shorts. "How do you know they would want that knob of yours up their cunts, or even pressing against them," he directed at Peter. The three boys laughed, and the ice seemed broken. Peter spat on the floor and touched his penis which seemed to have swelled slightly in the material. "Till this afternoon at 3 o'clock on the football ground," Pasha agreed, walking off, briefly touching his balls, satisfied with his meeting. He decided to have a walk down to the river to check out where the guys could go swimming later. As he took the quiet path he heard someone behind him and, turning saw Peter, still bare-chested. He stopped and the cute boy caught up with him. Pasha could see the boy was nervous but puberty and mischief was written all over his face. The boy had deep brown hair but a smooth skin which had been tanned by the sun. He wasn't tall – about the stature of rather short Pasha - but his chest was strong but smooth and his nipples a little puffy. "Hey, you cunt: want to see our boat down by the river?" he asked nervously, his hands in his pockets, making his low hanging equipment more prominent "Okay, why not. Let's go," he replied, pulling up his shorts slightly. Peter led the way down to the river, his arse well filling out the thin green shorts. The little ship was quite a large boat with an engine and a cabin used by the Kadets for some training. As they climbed aboard, up the ladder, Pasha made as if to slip and Pasha, who was right behind Peter, caught on to his bottom firmly. As soon as he felt the smooth buttocks, he began to rub gently, both staying motionless on the ladder. After a few moments, Peter continued up to the deck, and waited for Pasha to follow. "Fucking deserted mate!" he said, as they entered the little cabin and looked out of the window. Suddenly, Pasha felt a pressure on his buttocks and then a hand reached round and touched his balls. "Fucking bastard cunt: what a wanker?" Pasha said roughly, pressing back into Peter's erection as the boy started opening his shorts. Pasha turned: "You got pubes, Mate?" he asked, pulling the boy roughly to him and gripping his buttocks. As if by answer, the boy pulled down his green shorts revealing is milk-white pubic area which had been protected from the sun by swimming trunks. His balls were impressive but hairless and his fat penis, now swelling strongly and rising as Pasha watched was nesting in a thick but small patch of curly pubic hair. "Fucking puberty, Mate! Pasha responded as he let Peter take down his own trunks revealing his impressive balls and thick bush. The two boys gripped each other tightly, their penises locked together and their hands groping each other's buttocks. Next Pasha found himself on the floor, the boy on top of him. By some movements, Peter was on top of him. Then Pasha spread his legs apart and brought the boy up to his arse. "I knew you would want this, you bastard!" Peter said, still in his un-hardened voice, roughly pushing his penis (skin now right back and exposing the knob) into Pasha's arse. "Go on, you bastard, fuck me hard," Pasha responded, making his position as easy as possible for Peter, who was no sliding his member into the desired place! "Have you ever had that up a girl's cunt?" Pasha asked. "Yes, but this is better," the boy replied, thrusting hard. "Any more guys who will do this in your camp." "Just one," Pasha replied, thinking of Kirill. "No-one in our corpus," Peter replied, getting nearer to an orgasm. "O course, they will all fucking wank and play around, but not this.!! Pasha pulled the boy towards him and started kissing him in a deep way. Soon there was an orgasmic explosion on both sides and a lot of mess, and then a total collapse, because they were both expired. For some moments the two fifteen-year-olds lay in each other's arms and almost slept. "Love your tash, Mate!" Peter said, rubbing his fingers over it whilst lying in Pasha's arms. "So, we had better go. I must look after my little ones," Pasha said, getting up and arranging his clothing. Peter also stood up and put on his shorts, looking untidy. "Okay, let's go!" he said. "And you'll help us get some girls for my friend, won't you!" I hope you liked this chapter. It's good to get feedback. -- Ivan Ivanocich