Date: Sat, 27 May 2017 16:16:37 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Fourteen Again Chapter 43 Fourteen again by badboi666 =============================================================================== This story is - guess what! - fantasy. If sex with boys isn't your thing, go away. If, as is much more likely, you've come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about sex with a 14-year-old then make yourself comfortable - you're in the right place. Remember the three things: 1 Cum 2 Wipe 3 Donate =============================================================================== Chapter 43 Jack and I walked back to the bus. "I loved that," said Jack, "and I'll definitely be seeing Barry again. I wonder how he got into being tied up." "No idea," I replied, "but I'm sure you'll find out soon enough when you see him again." He agreed. We were alone on the top deck, and it was all of 45 minutes since we'd last cum, so naturally, being 14, we started to feel each other up. "I loved seeing you in your sexy pouch," I said. "Yes, and I loved wearing it. Every time I moved this morning the inside of my trousers rubbed against the silk and it was almost like my cock was being stroked. I was hard most of the time. It was a great present." I could feel he has hard as he was telling me this. "Are you wearing it now?" "Yes, of course. And I suppose you are - what did you call it, without pants?" "Commando." "Yes. Are you?" "Of course. It's not as sexy from the sound of it as having silk against your cock but it's still pretty stiffy-making. Feel." He did, and it was. As it was getting on for 4.30 the bus started to fill up, so any in-trouser feeling had to be postponed. "Bugger," he said as a man came up the stairs. "Tell you what," he added, "what if you come home with me and have tea. Polly will be glad to see you. Maybe you could stay the night again," and his eyes sparkled. It seemed a good idea to me - I would get a night in another boy's bed, much preferable to another night in the Youth Hostel or a hotel (I wasn't likely to meet another man as good as Cy had been, after all), and it might not only be the 14-year-old's bed I got into either. "Great," I said, "we'll ask your mum." And so it was. Polly was very pleased to see me again. While Jack was off in search of his mother to ask if I could stay Polly told me that the change in Jack had been remarkable. "He's gone from being a lonely withdrawn boy to an outgoing cheerful person. I don't suppose I ought to approve of what you two do, but the result is wonderful. I'm so happy for him because his parents don't seem to pay any attention. He's hungry for love, and you've shown him a path to finding it. Oh, I'm sorry, that's a very big speech, but I know you know that I'm both blind and happy for him." I gave her a hug. "Of course I do, Polly, and I know too that you're the most important person in this house for him. He'll grow up soon, but until then I know you'll protect him." Jack returned, his face a clear sign that nocturnal events would be occurring. "She said 'yes'. I'm not sure she knew who you were, but when I said you'd been at the party she said 'such a nice boy', so that was that." Polly produced boy-food and we filled ourselves with a will. "What would you like now?" she asked when we'd finished. I debated whether 'a large gin and tonic' would have been wise and decided that it was too important that Polly was on-side. Asking for something like that would have jeopardised the working relationship she and I had evolved for Jack. So I contented myself by saying "Polly, that was super. I couldn't manage another mouthful." (Not until Jack provided one, that is.) "Jack," I said, "I need a walk after that food. Let's go into the park." "Come on then," he said and we headed off to Grovelands Park. This was where I'd played as a boy and although it seemed a lot smaller in 2017 it had resumed its larger size again in 1957. At 14 we were technically too old for the swings (which it would be fun to use when we were 17 or so and couldn't be seen as babies, but at 14 the risk of being so castigated was too great) so we aimed instead for the lake. We wandered round it like a couple of pensioners (well, one of us was) looking in an avuncular manner at the little kids feeding the ducks. I broached the subject I had thought of at Barry's. "You told me all about the fun you had with Bob and Steve. It sounded exciting. I'd like to meet them. Can you give me their number when we get home?" "Yeah, sure. They're not far away." To cut a long story short I rang them when we got back to Jack's and Steve answered. He was pleased to hear it was me. "Oh wow! Peter, where are you?" "I'm at Jack's for a sleep-over." "We're away tomorrow, but what are you doing the day after? Can you both come round?" I put my hand over the phone and asked Jack. "No, worse luck," he said, "I have to go and see my bloody cousins with mum and dad. You go." This was exactly what I wanted as my aim was to get one of the 'twins' on his own - my guess was that Sammy, although younger, was more likely to provide what I was after. "Oh, what a shame," I said to Jack, and returning to the phone I told Sammy that I would come round. He told me the address and said "see you around 10 on Saturday." "OK." We wandered into the wooded area of the park where 60 and more years ago I had dammed the stream, now disappointingly small, and thrown mud at my pals. Jack of course knew this area as well as I did as it was his local swing park. When I led him into a part of the wood where there wasn't an exit he tried to make tracks for the gate but I told him that there was something I wanted him to see. Against the wall (which was the back garden wall of one of the posh houses in Jack's street (although 'street' was rather a vulgar description for that particular road) was a line of laurel bushes, quite thick at that time of year. I pushed between the bushes and the wall, and Jack followed. Once inside you could, if you were little, convince yourself that no-one could see you. "What's this about?" asked Jack. I pointed to the next bush. "That is where I was first shown how to wank. I was 7 and he was 8. A bit of history for you," and I gave his package a little squeeze. "I'm looking forward to showing you how seven years of devoted and single-minded practice have improved my wanking technique since that day long ago." He grinned, "Yeah, you're getting quite good now. I shall treasure this moment for ever," and he gave me a soft kiss. "Me too," I murmured, opening my lips and allowing our tongues to touch briefly, "more of this, much more, later." We went back to the house, and to the kitchen to stock up on essentials - biscuits, crisps, you know the kind of thing. Before we left Polly's domain I got a knife and some ice from the fridge. I was going to treat myself to a refreshing G&T. I explained to Jack what I had in my backpack and asked if he wanted any. He thought a moment and said that it sounded very grown up (as indeed it was!) but that a sip of mine would be all he wanted. Wise boy - a good shot of gin would not be likely to lead to prolonged sex. Once we were in Jack's bedroom we were immediately wrapped in each other's arms. It was remarkable how in a matter of two weeks Jack had gone from being reticent, if willing, in matters of romance to a full-on joyful instigator. I was no longer a seducer: Jack was offering himself, as I was, as equal partner in a shared sexual relationship. I wondered if this was how it would be between him and Barry from now on - I hoped so. Barry's needs were quite different from Jack's but each could satisfy the other's. Aside from the need to be bound and punished what Barry wanted was the same as what Jack was after - having his cock sucked, having it up another boy's arse, and being the willing recipient of another boy's cock and what was from time to time squirted out of it. Right now, however, that other boy was me and I was determined that tonight would be memorable. While still clasping me Jack moved his head back, looking at me deeply in the eyes. "You are a real find, Peter," he said. "When you showed me your train numbers at Kings Cross I had no idea what a hot sex engine you would be. We've done so much since then, and there's so much I want to do with you. My eyes have been opened." "And not just your eyes," I joked, wanting to cool down the intensity. I feared there was about to be a declaration of undying love coming. I liked Jack a lot, and sex with him was great, but my feelings for him weren't like my feelings had been for Zak or Robin. I cared a lot about him, as I cared about Barry and some of the others, and I wanted to help them find happiness with another boy (or man) if that was the way of it. But love: no. "I know, Jack," I said, nuzzling the soft skin under his ear, "but don't let yourself get too fond of me. I won't be here much longer." "Oh, why? Can't we go on seeing each other?" "No. I'll be leaving before the end of the month, and I have places to go before then. I hope you'll let Barry take my place." "What d'you mean 'take your place'?" "Only that when I'm gone you'll go on seeing him and bring him here for Polly to ignore." He giggled at the thought of Polly continuing not to be aware of a string of fuckable boys. "See what I mean?" I said, "it's not so far-fetched." "No, I suppose not," and he embraced me again. Were tears far away? Time for a drink. I had been looking forward to this for days. I poured a goodly dose and took a swig. "Try it," I said. He did, rather hesitantly. "Ugh, that's vile!" "So is what we do, to many people," I reminded him. "But that tastes nice," he grinned. I had to agree. "Come on, let's enjoy tonight and not worry about the rest of our lives," I said, "I want to see naked Jack in all his 14-year-old shameless glory." Within two minutes we had stripped and two glorious naked 14-year-olds were soon facing each other, cocks hard and urgent for release. We knew each other's bodies well enough by now to know that quick release wasn't the best release: we would slowly build up the tension in each other's bodies that the first release when it came would be intense. We knew too that there would be more releases after the first. To my delight Jack took the lead. Taking my hand he led me to the bed. "Come on, Peter, I need you to fuck me, but before you put your lovely cock into me I want a long session with your magic fingers." This sounded good to me. It was over two weeks since I'd first seen Jack naked, and first had a really good look at his cock. Now here it was again before me, erect and proud. Since I didn't expect to savour its delights on many future occasions it was only right that I should now allow myself the luxury of drinking in its beauty (before doing the same with its bounty - several times with luck). I think it was bigger than it had been two weeks ago - was that possible? Like me he was 14 and a growth spurt was likely at any time, but surely it wouldn't have affected his cock? Much more likely, it seemed to me, was that the enormous increase in the number (and, perhaps more important, the intensity) of his orgasms was the reason. His balls were being put under a much greater demand to produce spunk: could this account for it? I would never know, and I don't suppose Jack would give much thought to it either. His ginger pubes were, as always, a source of major excitement to me. "I'm pretty sure your cock's bigger than it was," I said. "Yeah, I was thinking that too." "I wonder if I'll still be able to get my lips round it." A few minutes later we found that I could. Before starting the long process of bringing him to his first cum of the day I wanted to enjoy the sight in front of me. His cock was flawless; its almost six inches of ivory skin had the necessary veins carrying the necessary blood. His heartbeat was duplicated by the pulse of his cock. Below hung his balls, also larger and hanging lower than when I had first set eyes, or lips, on them. And I knew, and would soon see, that the ridge in the middle of his scrotum would, if traced backwards by a questing tongue, lead a path along his hairless perineum to his rosebud arsehole. I suddenly wanted to devour every bit of him. I gently pulled back his foreskin to reveal his purple cock-head, already leaking pre-cum. Out came the tip of my tongue to collect it with the delicacy of a bee collecting nectar - the tiniest sip. He gave a shudder, "Oh fuck, Peter, you make me feel so sexy." "That's because you are so sexy already," I said. I felt that whole love thing again - I wish there were different words for these different kinds of love, but we're stuck with it, I suppose. My tongue, nectar-laden, slowly ran down the underside of his cock, removed itself to collect the fresh drop of nectar that he had just delivered, ran down again and very very softly ran over his balls. Another shudder, another drop of nectar, another sip, another gentle run over his balls. "This is so good my knees are giving out," he sighed, "let's get on the bed." Being thus more comfortable I positioned him on his back in the time-honoured position with his knees over my shoulders. I was lying with my face where I wanted it, where my tongue and lips could lick and suck the secret parts of this boy; this boy for whom I wanted this night to be the best of his life so far. I tongued along his perineum and watched as his rosebud clenched and opened in anticipation of the pleasures to come. "I want to suck you too," he said, "turn and 69 with me." "No, not yet," I said, " we'll 69 later, but I want your first cum to be just for you. I promise we'll do anything you want later, but this one's just for you. Let me give you a cum to remember." "Mmm, sounds good," he said, and then he used the L-word. Oh bugger, I thought, I'm in danger of breaking so many fucking hearts. But like Jack I was in the throes of heightened sexual feelings and the bloody L-word just slips out. Deal with it in the morning, I thought. If using the L-word means that the sex is better and the cums fly higher then maybe it's a risk worth running. It was time to concentrate on his arse - beautiful, hairless, unblemished, with a musky scent all of its own - a heady aphrodisiac indeed. I licked, it opened and closed, I licked, it opened and didn't close quite as much, I licked with a long lingering lick, getting my tongue a little way in, it opened and ... stayed open. Copiously lubed fingers entered him, an entry clearly very welcome to judge by his moans and yesses. Two ... three ... his brain knew what would be coming next and the message his brain sent to his balls was - lots more pre-cum needed. Pre-cum his cock duly delivered and pre-cum that my tongue licked and swallowed. Finger twitching time, but only very carefully as I didn't want to cum yet: there was much more to be done before then. The brief stimulation of his prostate was enough to make him cry out and arch his body: his genetic instinct was to force his cock deeper into the cunt it thought it was fucking - how wrong our instincts can be! More pre-cum for Peter. I whispered "Do you want me to try fisting you?" "Oh yes, get as much of you up me as you can. I want your whole fucking body up inside me." Not wholly sensible, but I knew what he meant. A lubed hand applied quantities of lube around his rosebud - not so much a bud now as a full bloom - and fingers lubed his insides. I made a fist and gently inserted it. "Aaaaaaah! fuck, that's good," he moaned, "how far up can you get it?" "It's in up to my wrist," I told him, "shall I push and see." "Fuck, yes." I hadn't lubed up any further, but the lube on my fingers and his own arse juices would have to do. I pushed slowly further in. He squirmed. I stopped. "OK?" "Oh yes, more. I want more of you up me. This is so fucking hot." Being thus encouraged, and reassured that it didn't seem to be doing him any harm (short, perhaps, of a heart attack) I pushed in a bit more, and a bit more ... until I hit an obstacle. I guessed that I'd reached a turning point in his colon. "That's as far as I think it's safe to go," I said, "I've hit a corner in your guts." "How far in are you?" "Would you believe almost to my elbow?" The 'fuck' that he breathed then was truly one of awe. "Move it around a bit," he said. I twisted a bit and made a small in-and-out fucking motion. He squirmed and sighed happily. "I don't think I've had more intense feelings than I've got now. This is just bliss." I don't think he could have said anything more touching or more rewarding than that. Giving him sexual ecstasy was what I had set out to do, and he hadn't even cum once yet. Time to remedy that. "Well, stand by to get even blissier." Slowly I withdrew my arm until the knuckles of my fist were stretching his arsehole. He shuddered and moaned "yessss". "Like that?" "Oh God yes. My arsehole loves being stretched like that." I spent a couple of minutes moving my fist just into and just outside his arsehole, causing him to cry out that this was the best fucking feeling he'd ever fucking had. I was glad that his mum was out. I hoped Polly's deafness was working. Time to finish him off, at least for Round One. Fist out ... three fingers in ... prostate twitching ... ten seconds later Jack's cock spurted the biggest cum of his life. I was watching, knowing that it would be spectacular. I didn't want it to go over his head (which it would certainly have done) so with my left hand (not then doing the business in the dark) I held his cock - red hot practically by this time - and aimed it upward. When the cum came it went at least two feet in the air - thicker that I'd seen his spunk before. Five good squirts, all landing between his chest and his cock. Five good squirts which would soon be in my mouth. "Quick, give me yours now," he begged, "69 time." Out came my hand. Pausing only to lick up his generous offering I turned to 69. His cock was still oozing, so even after I swallowed the massive load my mouth would be replenished. He took me in his mouth, greedily sucking and tonguing and murmuring sweet nothings while doing so. Since my fingers were still in roughly the right area I continued to tickle his ravaged arsehole, still twitching hungrily as though trying to recapture the thing that had so recently been the source of such hot pleasure. And then I came. I came in Jack's sweet mouth. He swallowed the first few hard urgent spurts and teased another couple with his tongue. We were both exhausted. "Come up here," he said, "my mouth needs you more than my arse does." We lay in each other's arms, our spunky mouths locked together. Our tongues lashed each other's. Our breathing gradually returned to normal. We stayed locked. As well as spunk and saliva the L-word was exchanged. Did we mean it? What 14-year-old does? "I love you, Peter, I love your cock, I love your balls, I love the spunk they produce, I love the taste of it, I love what you do to me, I love the feelings you make me have, I love everything about you." "I love you too, Jack. Now shut up and let's just cuddle." ============================================================================== badboi666@btinternet.com is where you should sent comments and suggestions. Make sure you drop something Nifty's way at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html