Endangered Species Chapter 2

 

I spotted the car turn into the road the moment it rounded the corner. I was a bundle of nerves and excitement, nervously looking around me for both the perv's car and anyone who might see me talking to him.

Unfortunately I saw both. A group of boys from my school were hanging around near the woods, smoking cigarettes and laughing. They were talking loudly and despite the distance I could sometimes pick out bits of what they said. I didn't know them, they were at least two years above me, but I felt very exposed standing here on my own.  I had hoped they would leave or go deeper into the woods but they showed no sign of doing either, so I was left in a bit of a dilemma.

I desperately wanted to continue with this game, take it further and experience even more danger. I had thought a lot about our last meeting, in truth I had thought of little else, and part of me was annoyed that he had given up so easily. It was almost as if by leaving he had gained the upper hand over me, where before I had been in control, telling him what to do and talking to him how I pleased, now he was dictating how we played. The loss of that control both scared and excited me, and I wanted to experience it again. I wanted to get closer to the cliff edge, closer to the fire, taking more risks and congratulating myself on being clever enough to get back before I was hurt.

Nervously I walked up to the car. He was sitting there much as before, looking unconcerned as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"We can't stay here yeah", I gestures with my head, not wanting to point, at the group of bigger boys. I was scared that he would simply drive off, that the game would be over, and I steeled myself to take another risk to ensure it continued.

 

 

The little gang of mid-teens by the woods were an unexpected nuisance. That they were engrossed in their own misbehaviour was obvious; smoking and talking noisily, but the sight of a Year Eight boy chatting to a guy in a car would be something they'd spot soon enough, and their lurid minds would have them jumping to conclusions that, accurate as they would be, were far from desirable, both for me and for Dylan.

 

I opened the passenger side window, and heard him say that we couldn't stay here, and told him I'd drive by, turn round at the end of the cul-de-sac and wait for him in the next road.

 

He nodded and I did just that, turning the car round and driving away as though Dylan was nothing to do with me. I could see in the mirror that the older kids were taking no notice of either me or Dylan, no comments following him as he walked off.

 

I pulled up and waited for him to arrive. A fairly big road for a housing estate and one with traffic, the sort of road where a car might wait to pick up a boy to give him a lift home after school.

 

What had seemed a nuisance had turned into an opportunity - we couldn't stop and chat here for more than a moment or two, so there was only one other possibility if he wanted to carry on playing the game, and that he did want to was obvious from the fact that he'd turned up. I opened the jaws of the Fly Trap so he'd be able to see the enticing inside, the honey-coated lure, the promise of satisfied desire. The passenger door open I waited for him to arrive.

 

"Better get in if you fancy chatting some more," I said as he arrived.

 

My pace slowed as I approached the car, my heart beating faster and a cold damp sweat forming on my back. I could see the passenger door open, inviting me in to take this game to the next, wholly more dangerous level.

I had been told all my life to avoid what I was now contemplating. Never, ever get in a stranger's car, it was a message we had been given since nursery, drummed into us by parents, teachers, and every other way possible. The idea of breaking that simple rule terrified me, we had all heard about what nasty men liked to do to boys my age, but the wrongness of it also excited me incredibly. I knew it was something virtually no boy my age would dare to do, it was like not just going up to the edge of the cliff but hanging over the side, and I wanted to sample the rush of that thrill.

"Got my phone yeah," I showed him my iPhone, pre-dialled to 999. One move from him and I could summon help, at least that's what I told myself. Taking one last look around I pulled my school bag off my back and chucked it in the footwell, before taking a deep breath and sliding into the passenger seat and closing the door.

He was close now. Closer than he had ever been, close enough so I could smell the cigarette smoke on him, and I shuffled in the passenger seat to sit as far away as possible. Even that I knew was pointless, he could easily reach over and grab me, and that knowledge made my cock stiffen in my school trousers.

Nervously I fidgeted, pulling off my jacket and turning it inside out and clumsily putting it back on. It was a reversible Northface down jacket, a birthday present from mum, and while the side I normally wore was black with a lime green zip reversing it meant that the colour changed completely to lime green with a black zip. I hoped that this meant no-one would spot me.

 

 

He was so delightfully nervous when he got in the car, shuffling as far away from me as he could get, his left shoulder pressed against the window. He knew he was playing with fire and that scared him but it excited him at the same time. It made him incredibly sexy, early teen pheromones flooding out of him, even when he tried to threaten me with his phone, showing me the pre-dialed 999 to make it clear he knew the danger he was in.

 

He wriggled out of his padded jacket, reversed it and wriggled back into it, thinking, I supposed, that he'd put on a disguise, changing from excited, scared, Year Eight schoolboy into brave, daring Boy Hero, ready to deal with all the exciting dangers that faced him in the mobile lair of the Unmasked Perv.

 

I masked a grin of satisfied amusement as his wriggles made it very obvious just how excited he was, his young erection pushing at his grey, school trousers.

 

"You, Dylan," I smiled at him, "Are an endangered species."

 

He looked at me, puzzled, his face saying "You what?" as he tried to work out what I meant.

 

"A well fit, very sexy boy in his school uniform; what perv could ask for more?" I grinned at him, "All ready to be captured, tied up and taken to my lair so I can have my wicked way with you."

 

 

 

At the mention of being captured and tied up my hand instinctively fumbled for the door handle and I almost screamed for help. I was terrified in that moment, expecting him to pounce on me, clamp a hand over my mouth and wrestle me to the floor.

The perv made no move though, and having failed to grasp the door handle I relaxed. He has been joking, winding me up, and I scowled a bit and tried to look unbothered by what he had said.

"I'd batter you if you tried it," I attempted to sound defiant, though in truth I knew I would be powerless to stop him overflowing me and trussing me up if he wanted. And that idea made my cock twitch. I always liked the bits in adventure stories where the boy hero got captured and tied up by the villain, all adventure books for boys my age had that bit in the plot, and the idea of being in the boot of his car, my mouth covered by tape and my hands and feet tied was exciting.

"You reckon I'm sexy then?" I tried to get the conversation back to a place where I had the upper hand, where he wanted something from me.  The word sexy hung in the air between us. No-one had ever called me that. Girls at school would say you were fit or they fancied you. Sexy was an adult word, part of a world I was just starting to get curious about and which made my cock stiff.

 

"Of course I reckon you're sexy, you daft sod," I grinned at him, "Hardly be likely to fancy you if you weren't would I."

 

I let him ponder on that for a moment, get it clear in his head that I did fancy him, and that if I thought he was sexy, there might be a chance that I'd want to do something.

 

"Don't the girls in your school think you're sexy? Don't any of them want to get at your cock?"

 

 

 

I giggled at that, flattered that it should be obvious that I was attractive to an adult. He had said he wanted to have his wicked way with me, that he fancied me, and while those ideas scared me they were also exciting.

"Yeah some," I replied when he mentioned girls at school, though in truth my interaction with them had only gone as far as tongue kissing one. Cocks and pussys were words we joked or insulted about with other boys, not stuff that would be talked about with a girl. "Most fancy Connor though," I admitted truthfully.

Up close I was now able to get a better look at him. He was fit, physically fit I mean, and looked like he might play a lot of sport. He wasn't fat or ugly and it was easy to imagine him having a wife or girlfriend, but instead he had fancied me enough to follow me and risk the danger of getting caught talking to me. I smiled shyly and ran a hand through my untidy mop of hair.

"What's your name or should I call you perv?"I grinned, enjoying pricking him in his own car.

 

 

"Call me 'Perv' if you want," I grinned back at him, "But if you do then I'll have to call you 'Tasty'. If you'd rather I called you Dylan, then you can call me Rob."

 

I watched him run his fingers through his mop of blonde hair, thinking how much of the girl there was in a young teen boy, that state where sexuality has not crystalised, either by choice or by convention. I'm not in the least bit attracted to girls, but like many other guys who like boys, I find a hint or two of the feminine makes a boy more boyish.

 

He was relaxed now, still on his guard, but relaxed. He hadn't even got round to asking where we were going when I drove off with him, and his phone with its pre-dialled 999 was in his lap, no longer in his hand. He was enjoying the danger, the thrill of being chased, and, even more, the unspeakably thrilling possibility of being caught.

 

"Just goes to show that girls don't have any sense," I grinned, "How anyone could want to get into bed with Connor when you're available beats me."

 

 

I laughed at that, pleased to have got one over my mate even if it was in a way I could never reveal to him.

"So where are we going Rob the Perv?" I tried to keep the nerves out if my voices the car pulled off. I was inside a self-confessed boy-fancier's car, a place no thirteen year old should ever be, and I tried to show that I wasn't bothered and was instead playing my own game. "Can't be seen in your car yeah?" I told him, a bit worried that a mate or a friend of mum would spot me. I knew it was unlikely but friends of parents did have the habit of popping up at the most unfortunate moments.

The streets of the up market housing estate mum and I lived on went by, he wasn't driving fast or erratically, but I still had the sense of speeding away from everything I knew towards a whole new world.

 

"Thought we'd go shopping," I said, "Go to Sainsbury's." The nearest Sainsbury's was a fair way away, on the outskirts of town, a place that should be safe from any eyes who were acquainted with Dylan. "Car park there should be a safe enough place for a perv to chat to a boy he fancies. He might even take him into the café there and get him a milkshake."

 

He didn't seem to be bothered by that prospect so I thought I'd give him something a bit more dangerous;

"Of course, I could go somewhere a little more secluded if you've got something other than just chatting in mind."

 

 

I wrinkled my nose in distaste. I had been dragged around Sainsbury's too many times by my mum to find the prospect, even under these circumstances, appealing.

"Their milkshakes taste like shit," I shrugged to pretend I wasn't bothered, though I did want to push this game. "The cinema out of town has a drive thru Starbucks, their stuff is well nice." I meant their strawberry  frapuccinos but couldn't remember the fancy name. Mum sometimes brought me one as a treat, and I knew no-one would see us if we went to the drive thru.

The idea of going somewhere more secluded afterwards both scared and excited me. He hadn't made a move to touch me so far but would that change when we were on our own. Would I enjoy it? Part of me was terrified but a small part was curious. What did it feel like to have someone else touch your privates? Would I enjoy it or hate it?

"Where's private?" I asked him a low voice, telling myself I hadn't agreed to anything yet and could stop this any time I wanted.

 

 

"Okay, fine by me," I said, agreeing to his suggestion of the drive-thru. "Then, if you're up for it, we could go right out of town, up to the old Iron Age hill fort. The car park there doesn't have any barriers and it won't have any cars in it now it's almost dark. Apart from any pervs who've taken a boy there, of course," I grinned at him.

 

He was on the very lip of the fly trap now, on the edge and peering in. He knew perfectly well that it would be dangerous in there but he had a growing feeling that it was the sort of danger he wanted, and I had a growing certainty that it wasn't going to be long now before his cock learned how magic it was to be in someone's hand.

 

"We can just chat up there, of course. Depends entirely on what you want, how far you want to go. We got about an hour and a half before I have to get you home. Plenty of time for all sorts of things."

 

 

"Yeah ok," I shrugged as if an offer from an older man to drive me to a secluded spot was a normal part of my day. The phrase 'all sorts of things' was swirling around my mind as we drove. That could mean chatting, that could mean him raping me, that could mean anything in between.

I fondled my phone nervously, keeping a firm grip on it as if it was my last chance of escape. The number 999 still showed on the screen and I was careful not to press dial by mistake. Part of me wanted this to be over, to get out and run for home, but just like the scary build up in a horror film I didn't seem to be able to tear myself away from what was happening.

At the window I ordered a large strawberry frapuccino with cream, and as we drove away sucked nervously on the straw, unsure what I wanted to happen next. All I knew was that I had come this far and didn't want to go back now, however much I knew I should.

 

"You certainly know how to suck,"  I grinned as I drove him up to the hill fort. I knew the sexual innuendo wouldn't be missed, it wasn't meant to be. Initial flirting time was over, he needed to be very clear in his mind that his cock was what this was all about. What he was going to do about it I didn't know, but I was sure that he was, at least in part, wanting something to happen.

 

The car park was, as I expected, empty, a perfect place to take advantage of an innocent thirteen year old boy. Except that Dylan was not one hundred percent innocent, Oh, he was utterly innocent in deed, but his mind had wandered from the straight and boringly narrow. I wanted it to wander further still.

 

"Perfect place to molest a tasty boy," I teased him as I parked, "But I suppose there's a chance that the tasty boy doesn't want to be molested. So I suppose I'd better ask him what he does want to do, or what he wants to chat about."

 

 

I coughed a bit as he told me I was good at sucking and continued slurping on my shake pretending not to notice. I knew he meant a different sort of sucking, the sort girls were supposed to do to boys not boys to older men, and was a bit scared by it. No adult had ever spoken to me like this, talked to me not just about sex stuff but in a way that made it clear he wanted to do that stuff with me, and the feeling terrified and delighted me.

The car park was empty and I looked around nervously. I still had my phone but that suddenly seemed like a feeble protection against what I had got myself into. Even if I called for help it wouldn't arrive before he had done stuff to me, and the thought of events being out of my control and in his hands was thrilling as well as terrifying.

Did that mean I wanted to be molested? Being molested was a bad thing, a terrible fate we were warned to do everything to avoid, but instead I had willingly got in a car with a stranger and driven to this place.

"Dunno", I shrugged unsure what to do next. "Like it when you talk about sex stuff," I admitted before adding, my face blushing a bright red, "You gonna touch me up?"

 

 

"Nice idea," I smiled, "And if your school trousers and boxers were down round your ankles then 'touching you up' would be totally irresistible. But they're not down round your ankles and I'm certainly not going to try and grope you with them still in place; I probably wouldn't be able to feel a thing."

 

I let him absorb that before saying, "I might not be able to resist the temptation of putting an arm round your shoulder, though, it would add something to talking dirty with you."

 

I made no move to do that, I wanted him to think about the possibility of agreeing to it, and I definitely wanted him to go for talking dirty.

 

"You're sitting here in a car in a dark and deserted place with a guy you know damn well wants your cock. Why are you doing that? Do you want to have your cock felt, maybe even sucked?"

 

Would he rise to the bait, or would he chicken out now when he was faced with the reality of what he was doing and ask to be taken home?

 

 

I knew I should stop this now, knew I had taken the game too far already and knew that I should at least demand to be taken home and probably jump out of the car and run for it on my own.

Instead, taking a deep breath, I unbuckled the seat belt and scooted over a bit in the seat, enough to let an arm be draped around my shoulder if he wanted. I was smart enough to know that what I was doing wasn't harmless, that it could and probably would lead further, to things boys my age are supposed to be afraid of.

"Yeah you can feel it" I mumbled in a whisper, unable to stop myself. I knew I had gone from standing on the cliff edge to jump off it, but I couldn't resist the temptation of the water below.

 

 

He undid his seat belt, shifted over in his seat, even leaned a bit towards me so that I could get an arm round his shoulder easily. I knew what doing that had cost him, the mental turmoil and struggle he'd gone though before giving in to the urge deep inside him.

 

That wasn't simply a boy's urge to at last get some sort of very basic sex, it was this particular boy's need to have an adult male he could relate to, and if that meant that his trousers were going to have to come off, well, so fucking what! It was his cock wasn't it? He could do what he wanted with it.

 

I could have put one arm round his shoulder then, reached across with my other hand, got his trouser button and zip undone and reached inside for the prize. I could have done that, but I didn't. This boy had got to me now, not just another boy with a cock to feel, he was more than that.

 

Instead I just put an arm round his shoulder, gave it a light squeeze.

 

"You're not just a tasty, sexy, yummy, brave boy, Dylan," I whispered to him, "You're also totally fucking gorgeous."

 

I could feel him tense a little when my arm went round his shoulder, but he eased fractionally closer when I gave him that light squeeze, and, for a moment, I thought he was going to cry when I told him he was gorgeous.

 

"Thanks for telling me I can," I said softly, "You don't know how much that means. But shall we leave that bit until you really want it?"

 

 

He seemed to move in slow motion as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, stretching it out carefully as if not to spook a frightened animal.

And in truth that was what I was. My heart was beating faster than I had ever known it, and I felt as if I would be sick at any moment, and my whole body tensed as the limb settled on me neck and his hand squeezed my left shoulder.

I had expected him to grab me, put his big hands all over my body and feel whatever he wanted, but instead he just sat there seemingly happy to have his arm around me. After the initial terror I quite liked the feeling, and shuffled over as much as I could to get further into his reach.  I smiled shyly as he called me brave and tasty then gorgeous, enjoying being so close to an adult man. The scent of his aftershave and the cigarettes he smoked filled my nose and I wriggled again, not to escape, but to get comfortable on the edge of the seat.

"Yeah ok," I mumbled at his suggestion we leave him not touching my cock. I was surprised but not disappointed; right now I was happy being in the crook of his arm and didn't want to spoil it. Instead I reached up with my left hand and shyly touched his hand. I could feel his grip through my down jacket but this was the first time our flesh had touched.

"I like this," I confided, though it was probably obvious that I was excited. His hand was warm, if a bit hairy, and I shyly touched it again, biting my lip as I did so. "Can we talk about dirty stuff?" I mumbled, embarrassed to be saying the words despite there only being two of us to hear them.

 

"Yeah," I said, "Let's talk about dirty stuff."

The feel of his young hand on mine was incredibly erotic, far more sexy than feeling his hard cock would have been. His cock would come, no doubt about that now, but it would come when he was ready, when he wanted to give it to me; give not just his cock but the whole of him, everything he had to give.

 

I reached across with my right hand, ruffled the untidy mop of his hair, "Will you be offended if I tell you that you're beautiful?" I whispered in his ear, "Cos you fucking are."

 

I squeezed his narrow shoulder again; there was really nothing to feel because of the padded jacket he was wearing;  that didn't matter, it was the doing of it that counted. The doing of it and the way his small hand pressed just a little more onto mine.

 

He gave a tiny sigh as I ruffled his hair again and his head moved a fraction closer to my shoulder, one more move and it would be resting there.

 

"I expect you want to know why I like boys and what I do with them," I said softly, "Is that the dirty stuff you want to talk about?"

 

 

 

I giggled as he ruffled my hair, wriggling in my seat as the big hand messed up my already untidy mop. It felt good to be this close to him, to have his hands touching me like this, even if it was the way a dad, (a good dad not a dick like mine), would mess about with you.

Shyly I touched his hand again, curiously feeling the fingers resting on my shoulder.  He didn't seem to mind and I left my hand there, just resting on his, to enjoy the feeling a bit longer. I was right on the corner of my seat now, and I rested my head on his shoulder in an effort to get comfortable.

"Would you really have tied me up and taken me back to your lair?" I giggled a bit as I said it, pretending to be an innocent boy asking the question with wide scared eyes. In truth I was a boy with a tent, and a damp patch from a leaking cocky in my school trousers, excited by what was happening and not wanting it to end.

 

 

 

"You better believe it," I said, looking stern and threatening. If this was the way he wanted to play then I was happy to go along with it.  He was here and that was the only thing that mattered. "Tied you up tight, stuffed you in the boot and taken you to my secret boy-molesting lair, where even if you pressed the call button on your phone, the police would never find you. And once I got you there I'd do unspeakable things to you, and I wouldn't stop just because you spunked. Oh, no, I'd keep on doing them until your cock was sore and had blisters on it because it had been wanked so much."

 

He giggled as he was supposed to, and took his hand off mine for a moment to make an adjustment to the bulge inside his school trousers, but as soon as he'd rearranged things his hand came back to mine.

 

His head felt wonderful on my shoulder and if I turned just a fraction his unruly mop of hair tickled against my face.

 

"I'd have done all those things to you," I said with a grin, "But right now, all I want to do is kiss you."

 

 

 

I giggled as he spoke, no-longer believing that he would abduct me but enjoying the description of what evil things my kidnapper would do to me. I liked that he played along with me, didn't tell me I was being silly, and seemed to think the idea was exciting as well. I wondered if he would take the game further one day, tie me up for real, I thought I would enjoy that and suspected he would to.

At the mention of kissing I felt my face blush again. "Yeah sure," I mumbled, staying still in the crook of his arm. I didn't know how to start doing something like that, I had only kissed one girl before and she had slobbered all over me at a mate's house before I had a chance to tell her to fuck off.

 

 

 

I eased his face away from my shoulder, looked into his eyes. Even in the dark I could tell he was blushing, perhaps from the embarrassment of saying 'Yes' to kissing a man, perhaps from the excitement of it.

 

I moved in on his face slowly, a little peck on his forehead, another on his nose, and then lips to lips. Gently at first, just moving lips around, lip-nibbling his lower lip to get him started, and then closing in a bit more firmly, pressing lips against his and hinting with my tongue for him to open his mouth.

 

He resisted for a few seconds and then his mouth opened inviting my tongue inside. He let it happen for a while and then it was as though a switch had been thrown and his tongue joined mine in a frenzied swirl.

 

I held him tight now, pressing him against me as our mouths ground away. My right hand went under the back of his padded jacket, under his school sweater, under the shirt that had come free from his trousers and up the warm skin of his slender young back.

 

As he felt my hand on his skin his kissing became wilder, he moaned into my mouth while his tongue swirled with mine, and his little hand, no longer just resting on mine but gripping it tight.

 

All good kisses have to come to an end to allow air back into lungs, and when our mouths parted I kept his cheek, his soft, smooth, boy cheek against my adult one and he made no move to have it anywhere else.

 

 

I was happy to be held once the kiss was over, the stubble of his cheek rough against my face as I panted into his neck.
I hadn't known what to do at first, had been too scared to do anything as his tongue made its way into my mouth but after a moment it was like something changed inside me and I had hungrily wrestled tongues with him, tasting his cigarettes and coffee and an assortment of other flavours that seemed so adult and exciting.

With one hand on my back and other intertwined in my own I knew I was totally within his grasp, but was surprised to find I wasn't afraid. He wouldn't hurt me, I knew that now, and I dreamily moaned and rubbed my face against his.

"Do that again please?" I panted, aware that there was a sticky damp mess in my pants but well past caring. I wanted his tongue in my mouth again, to have his hands on my body as he kissed me, and to be held like this all night.

 

"Your wish is my command, beautiful boy," I murmured into his hair, "And if things get a bit intense down below you have my permission to do something about it."

I went for his mouth again, tasting boy, milkshake and boy, strawberry flavoured boy and found the flavour utterly intoxicating. Our tongues swirled again, not in such a frenzied dance this time, more of a slow waltz as we enjoyed the wicked delight of kissing. I could guess how his cock was feeling - mine was straining for release from its confines, but that wasn't surprising since I had my tongue in a thirteen year old boy's mouth and he had his tongue in mine.

 

I didn't know how much, if any, girl-kissing experience he'd had, but he had all the right instincts and I doubted if there were many boys of his age who could kiss the way he did. The waltz quickened into a fox-trot, then into another wild, swirling flamenco and my hand was in bliss feeling the warmth of the naked skin of his back.

 

It was all I could do to control that hand, stop it from leaving his back and fumbling his trousers open, but I'd promised no cock until he gave it to me, and this was a boy I was not going to break that promise to.

 

I leapt back on him hungrily, clamping my mouth on his. There was no hesitation this time, my tongue went into his mouth desperate for another taste of grown man, and so moaned in pleasure as his own tongue probed and swirled around my mouth.

Clumsily, my lips locked with his, I struggled out of my jacket so I was sitting in just my now scruffy school uniform. I moaned again as his tongue tastes me, exciting me, and I fumbled at first my belt then my trouser button and zip to pull them open.

I couldn't get my trousers off, but I could get them open and that was enough to allow me to pull the waist band of my undies down. My cock sprang free, popping up against my school jumper leaving a patch of snot like dick leak on it, and I started to pump it furiously as I continued to kiss him.

"Touch me," I moaned, my eyes screwed shut.

 

 

I don't know how he managed to get his jacket off without breaking the kiss, but somehow he did, and then his hand was fumbling at his trousers, tugging them open, releasing his young cock.

"Touch me," he moaned, barely breaking the kiss for long enough to moan it, and then back to a desperate search for my tonsils, one hand gripping hard one mine around his shoulder, the other frantically punishing his cock.

 

My right hand, freed from its adoration of his back by his contortions to remove his jacket, went to the waist of his trousers and boxers, pulling at them to free up his body. He clung to my neck, still tongue twisting, and lifted his bottom off the seat enough for me to shove his unwanted clothing down his thighs, and then all the way down over his knees.

 

I traced the wonderful smoothness of his thighs back up to his cock, a cock still gripped by his own young hand, but a hand that released it the moment it felt the approach of mine.

 

His cock was perfection, not huge and ridiculous, not tiny and disappointing; I guessed that he had something around four inches of boy delight and it was all mine to explore and enjoy. Hard as he was, his foreskin still covered everything, not tightly, it slid easily, but enough of it to add to the pleasure of playing with him. A searching thumb found nothing but smooth skin above it, and his balls were soft and crinkly smooth in my fingers when I explored those in their turn.

 

"Mmmm," I moaned into his mouth to let him know that I liked the present he had given me, holding him firmly in my hand now and starting the movements that have only one end.

 

"Tell me when you're getting close," I said, "We don't want any nasty mess," and then went back to kissing him.

 

 

I writhed and moaned as his hands pulled down my trousers and undies, squirming up and wriggling around in the seat to get rid of the obstacle between my cock and release.

They only slid down to my knees but that was enough, and I moaned and tongued harder as his hand stroked its way up my thigh. The feel of his adult hands on my body was intoxicating, I knew I was his now and didn't just not care, but actively wanted it, wanted his hands on me, to feel, to touch me in forbidden places and make me moan in pleasure.

And moan I did, a high pitched whine of pleasure that only increased as his hand replaced my own on my cock. I screwed my eyes shut as his fingers closed around it, where I had been roughly yanking it, desperate for release, his gently explored my privates and, judging from his own moans, he liked what he found.

"Yeah, yeah," I panted between kisses as he slowly stroked it up and and down. I had only discovered the joys of wanking recently and still roughly pulled it, sometimes making it sore. He was different, building the strokes with a firm but gentle grip, teasing my cock and then getting faster. I was bucking my hips forward now, the confines of the car the only thing stopping me humping his hand, and I screwed my eyes tight shut as I felt the familiar tingling in my balls.

"Gonna cum," I managed before clamping my mouth back on his.

 

His slender cock was hard as only a young boy's cock can be hard, it really was as though there was bone under the velvet soft skin, skin that moved so easily, was so soft that it made the hardness underneath seem harder still. A cock younger, less developed than the cocks I usually enjoyed, but a cock that was somehow more beautiful because of that.

 

This was the cock of a boy, barely thirteen, the cock of a boy who had never allowed it to be touched by a hand other than his, a cock that now pulsed and throbbed with the urgency of its need, a need it had discovered only now and only in my hand.

 

That alone would have made this moment special, but there was more than that. Not only was it special, it was beyond description in the erotic nature of the event itself. This was the cock of a boy who had almost torn open his trousers to release it for me, a boy who had wriggled and shuffled in an attempt to free himself from the confines of his clothing so that I could have access to his young, never-before-touched flesh; a boy whose mouth was glued to mine, his tongue in a frenzied swirl of passion in my mouth, a boy who was moaning with the pleasure of being touched, felt and enjoyed.

 

It was the cock of a boy, a boy of only just thirteen, who had discovered his need for a man and done that in the front seat of a car in his school uniform.

 

It was his school trousers that were now around his knees, his school shirt and jumper that were pushed up over his stomach, wrinkled there by my hand when I explored the beauty of his body; indulging in the flesh of boy straight from school, still clothed, now only partly clothed, in his everyday anonymous disguise as 'just another boy', that was so incredibly erotic.

 

I wanked him with care, intending that he should have at least as much pleasure from his wanking as I was getting from doing it for him; at least as much, more if that were possible.

 

I knew he was near spunking before he jerked his mouth from mine to tell me he was going to cum, I knew it from the way his cock had hardened even more, from the way he sucked in his breath so his stomach was drawn in, I knew it from the way his thighs tensed as every muscle in his body prepared to propel his sperm from his balls.

 

He went back for my mouth as soon as he'd gasped out his words, but this was not the time to kiss again.

 

I pushed his head from mine, a squeak of displeasure from him as I did so, somehow bent myself in my seat and took that wonderful young cock in my mouth instead of his tongue.

 

I thought I heard a gasp as my mouth enclosed him, but I wasn't thinking now about him, all I was interested in was his spunk. No way was I going to permit this wonderful boy to spurt his first cumming for me wastefully!

 

His cock jerked again in my mouth; I heard him moan, quite loudly this time, and then spurts of hot boy juice spattered the inside of my mouth.

 

A boy of barely thirteen does not pump out a huge load, nor does he pump out a thick, creamy one. His cock spits out the thin offering of his balls with such force that it would fly through the air for several feet if it were not prevented from doing so by a mouth that intended to savour every drop.

 

And savour it I did, every single drop and drip, and when all was done, I slipped his glorious cock from my mouth, kissed him gently where one day soon hair would be growing, and told him he was wonderful.

 

"Thank-you, Dylan. Never in your life have you ever given anyone a present better than that. You are a wonderful, gorgeous, beautiful boy."

 

 

 

My moan of protest turned into a cry of delight as his mouth moved from my lips to my cock. I gasped as my prick was swallowed into the wet, warm enclosure and his tongue stroked and teased my shaft. I had never experienced anything like it and I let out a half moan, half high pitched squeal as he started to suck me in earnest.

Not that he had to suck long. My already excited body didn't resist and suddenly my cock spurted, and I screwed my eyes shut and cried out again. The moment seemed to last an eternity but when I finally opened my eyes he was retreating, letting my softening cock slip out of his lips and back onto my thigh.

I snuggled into him afterwards, instinctively wanting to be warm and safe in his embrace. His arm slipped around my shoulder again as he called me gorgeous and wonderful, and I moaned softly in pleasure as my cock softened back down to its usual slight semi. My trousers and undies were down around my ankles and my jacket strewn on the back seat but I made no move to dress myself, I wanted to enjoy being like this in his arms and give him the pleasure of looking at my body. It wasn't vanity that made me do it, just an understanding that he found the view of my bare crotch pleasurable, and that I enjoyed the pleasure he got from it in return.

At that moment I would have happily stayed in his arms forever, me his boy and him my man, but eventually reality intruded and I looked at the clock on his dashboard.

"Mum will be home soon," I mumbled, not wanting not this evening to end but knowing it had to. "Can I see you again?"

 

The moments after a boy has spunked are crucial, vital moments. Would post-orgasmic guilt strike and he hurriedly pull his clothes back into place, or would he relax, knowing he has done no wrong, whatever the world may think or say?

 

Dylan sighed long and deep when his spunking was over, sighed and snuggled into me, no attempt made to restore his clothing. He lay, cuddled into my shoulder, my left arm around him, my right hand resting on his naked hip.

 

I whispered into his unruly mop of hair how special he was, how wonderful, and I meant every whisper of it. I'd followed him as a boy who might give cock; I got to know him a little as a boy who, if he did give cock, might give it for some months to come; I cuddled him now because he was a boy I did not want to let go of, a boy I wanted to be with, a boy I wanted around me and it didn't really matter if he gave cock or not.

 

That mattered even less now because he'd given so much more than cock, he'd given boy, whole, complete boy, and what more can a man who adores boys ask than that?

 

He sat now, cuddled into me, his school trousers now down around his ankles, his school shirt and jumper pulled up, revealing his all and revealing it so I could look at it. No embarrassment, no shame, no guilt.

 

I could do nothing to make this beautiful boy mine, if he was to be mine it would be by his choosing, not mine. Perhaps later, in bed tonight, he may think back and wonder why he done the things he had, might regret the doing of them, vow never to do them again. Perhaps he would reach for his cock and wank out more boy spunk, reliving what had been.

 

Time passes very quickly when you have a boy in your arms, all too quickly.

 

"Can I see you again?" he asked me.

 

"I want that so much, Dylan," I murmured in his ear, "I'll wait for you by the woods again tomorrow after school. But if tonight or tomorrow you change your mind, think you shouldn't see me again, don't worry about it. Even if you're not there tomorrow I'll still think you are a beautiful, very special boy, and I'll never forget this evening."

 

 

I knew I should have felt guilty, dirty even, for doing what I had done. I had broken the one golden rule all people my age knew, 'never go with strangers', and been an active participant in what had happened.

But I truth I felt no guilt. Not when I struggled back into my clothes, not when he dropped me off a few streets from my house or when I wanked myself to another climax in the dark of my bedroom later that night while thinking about his hands on my body and his mouth on my cock. He had told me I was special, I was gorgeous and I was amazing. I knew I should dismiss those things as him grooming me, we had been told of all the ways evil men did that, but I believed each one, and knew he meant them. I understood that he had enjoyed my body just like I had enjoyed his, the memory of his tongue in my mouth for the first time woke me at 2am with a puddle of jizz in my pjs, but I had also enjoyed his company, his smell and his soft words when I was in his arms.

 

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