Date: Mon, 5 Jun 2017 13:04:43 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Fourteen Again Chapter 46 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 46 I wanted to concentrate on Steve, partly to gain a better awareness of what we might get up to tomorrow, and partly because - well, I fancied him. Sex with Bob had been good, but I had a feeling that sex with Steve would be a lot better: he seemed more adventurous, for a start, and I've found that adventurous boys are more likely to hit the high spots erotically. Anyway, I'd soon find out. I knelt down in front of Steve and very gently tickled the underside of his hard boy-cock with the tip of my tongue. He shivered. I repeated my long lick, starting as far under his balls as I could reach - ah! he parted his legs; now I could reach back a few inches further - and slowly, slowly licking along the urethra, prominent under the rigid flesh of his cock, right up to the tip of his beautiful foreskin. "Let me help," he said softly, and pulled back his foreskin to reveal his moist cock in all its perfection. My tongue teased his frenulum ("oh Christ, Peter") and was rewarded, as a bee is by a flower, by a drop of nectar. Very tasty nectar! Could I get him to cum, I wondered, standing in front of me while I used nothing but my mouth. Seven or eight minutes later my question was answered. All I had done was repeat, with gradually increasing firmness, the tongue action, adding to it a quick engulfing of his whole cock in my mouth and swirling my tongue round his glans. Each time I did this his moans became more intense and I knew that he was likely to explode in the next cycle. He was unable to stop twitching as my tongue made its slow way over his balls - you could almost hear the sperm sergeant-major forming his men up for the imminent charge - up along the underside of his cock straining, straining, begging for release - onto his frenulum now hot enough to melt steel, lips round cock, cock drawn all the way in - "Yessssssssssssss," from Steve, "oh fuck me! that's the best, and no-one even touched me." "Who'd want to touch that thing if it wasn't washed thoroughly first? But now it's really clean maybe Bob will finish it off?" Instantly Bob was on his knees in my place licking the last drops of his brother's spunk. I rolled the 13-year-old's load round my mouth and enjoyed its taste before finally swallowing. Protein is so good for the over-80s, I reminded myself. "Well Steve," I said, as he started to return to normal," your balls and cock are clean now, but it's your arse I'm really interested in. Kneel on the bed and let's have a look at it." Up he got and knelt with his knees well apart. What a beautiful sight! Smooth cheeks with not a mark on them, a hairless crack and a tight pink rosebud of an arsehole. "That looks tight," I said. Bob grinned, "it may look tight but you could get a bus up there, and he'd want more." "Yeah," muttered Steve, "I like stuff up there. You fisted Bob the other day and you're going to fist me soon. Greg used to stick his cock up there before they chopped it off, but now he fists me too so, yeah, I like stuff up me." "Delightful," I said, "I'm sure I can rise to meet your needs." I was going to fist this boy and then fuck him. I didn't know what Bob would do, but no doubt they had evolved their own pattern and my being there would add a bit of spice to their usual diet. I would soon discover. Bob disappeared into the huge bathroom between their two bedrooms and came back with a bottle of lube and three leather cock straps. He and Steve put theirs on immediately, leaving one for me. I wished I had met these two at the beginning of my visit to 1957 as I could probably have borrowed several of their toys. "Greg got these, I suppose?" "Yes," said Bob, "it's useful having a queer grown-up who can get this sort of stuff. There's plenty more in our rooms - we'll show you later." This would be interesting, I thought. With the lube ready to hand I settled down to the long slow business of fisting Steve. He was kneeling on all fours with his legs well apart. I lay on my back with my face below his balls and my legs way behind him. I started off in the same way as I had done earlier, only this time my tongue worked from his cock back over his balls and along his crack. When my tongue was about a millimetre short of his hole I went back and started again, only more firmly. On the fourth track I licked his rosebud ("at fucking last!") which winked at me. After the fifth I felt it was time to devote all of my effort to his arse, so I moved from under him to kneel behind him. I separated his cheeks and his crack was completely exposed. I rimmed him for a few minutes, causing him to sigh and moan. Eventually he said "Bob, come and suck my cock, it's leaking and it's a waste." Bob's lips were attached to his younger brother's cock within half a second, and they remained there throughout. "Don't make him cum," I said. "No, he won't," replied Bob, "I know this boy's balls; he won't cum again for a good while. Tell me when you want him to cum and I'll make sure he does, about 30 seconds after you tell me." I wondered what process this might be, and lamented, for the millionth time, that I didn't have a brother about the same age to share sinful wickednesses with. Here we are then. Bob is lying under Steve suckling his cock. I am kneeling at Steve's arse about to invade it. Steve is somewhere else, but wherever he is he's moaning and sighing and we're being encouraged to send him even further into space, or wherever. Apply lube. Insert one finger. Wiggle it about. "As I said a few moments ago, at fucking last," from Steve, who could be formal when the occasion demanded it, "two more!" Two more followed. Prostate twitching magic. (Great sighs and moans.) Not too much, Peter, I reminded myself, we don't want him cumming, whatever Bob's secret spell might be. More - a lot more - lube. Fingers out; fist formed; fist slowly but resolutely inserted. ("Aaaaah! That's good, Peter, stick it in!") Encouraged to explore, I pushed further until, just before my elbow disappeared, I hit the barrier. "That's as far as I can go," I said. "Yeah," panted a very sweaty Steve, "that's as far as anyone goes. Maybe when I'm bigger my arse'll get bigger and some lucky bugger'll get his elbow in. But it's great, Peter, I feel so full and hot and ... I don't know ... just happy." From below Bob removed his mouth from Steve's cock long enough to inform us that, from where he was, he could attest to Steve's cock's delight at what was being done to Steve's insides. "Your cock's leaking like a fucking sieve." And he resumed swallowing duties (happily, it must be recorded). "What now, kiddo?" I asked Steve. "Take your fist out and fuck me." A good guest does what his host asks, although I did decide to remove my fist extremely slowly, pausing now and then in its outward journey to give a little twist, to open my knuckles a bit, to re-insert a little, all treats which the increasingly noisy Steve clearly appreciated. At last my middle finger was in prostate country, so it dwelt there a short time to remind itself of why it was there (more noise). When the widest part of my fist - where the knuckles were - was right at the lips of his arse I paused long enough to give him the biggest stretching my hand could arrange. "Like that?" I said. "Ohhhhhhhh yes!" (I was learning so much about tomorrow's playmate!) I gave my cock a few quick strokes to get it as hard as I could. Steve's arse would be wide open and awash with lube and - far nicer - his own juices, and I doubted whether he would be able to feel my cock at all. I'm proud of it, naturally, but it's a lot thinner than my fist and a lot shorter than my forearm. Still, it's attached to me and ... in it went, hard and fast. (A gratifying cry of "yessss", but whether that was erotic ecstasy or merely a good host reassuring his guest I cannot say.) I fucked hard for a couple of minutes and was beginning to feel my own orgasm. "Bob, I want him to cum in 30 seconds!" While fucking energetically, and with my own cum beginning to approach, I was able to watch what happened next. It was obviously a regular performance. Bob moved from under Steve to kneel in front of him with his cock right in front of Steve's mouth. Bob started to wank himself hard and fast, so fast that his right hand was a blur while his left fondled his balls. "Five seconds," he panted. Steve opened his mouth and Bob's cock went straight in. As he had advised us, five seconds later Bob's cock exploded into Steve's mouth, and about three seconds later, while Bob was still pumping, Steve's cock shot a long rope of cum onto the bed. His arse clamped hard on my cock, causing me to cum. All three of us were still spasming for several seconds. I have had multiple cums on many occasions, but I can truthfully say that that particular multiple cum was one of the best. My cock, my balls, my arse, all my insides were alight with something words can't describe. You've all felt it, or I hope you have, and it's so intense that it would be intolerable if it lasted more than a minute or two. Naturally Steve and I collapsed onto each other, and Bob fell onto us. We were sweating and panting, our cocks were leaking and softening. It was a magic couple of minutes. "He's good, my kid brother, isn't he?" said Bob. "I'm not good, I'm the best," said he. "I think you're both fucking marvellous," - the good guest again. While we were lying in a heap I manoeuvred myself round to nuzzle Bob's arse. I parted his cheeks and started to rim him. His sighs led me to think that were I to continue with my ministrations it would not be unwelcome. Seeing what was happening Steve rolled off to one side to watch, and let us get on with it. Within a couple of minutes my face was deeply engaged with Bob's arse, and when I reached round to grasp his cock I found it was nail-hard again. I started to wank it, but he put his hand on mine to stop me. "No," he said, "the one thing you and I haven't done is me cum in your mouth." This was music to my ears - my mouth gets much more pleasure from being liberally bathed in a teenager's cum that my hand does. "69?" I said. "Yeah." And so it was. Steve interrupted, "In the bath." The three of us went into the connecting bathroom and Steve made Bob and me lie down on a towel in the enormous bath. "Go on, then," he said. I was interested that Bob, clearly unwilling to play shit games with anyone, was happy to suck my cock, still liberally covered with my cum (obviously not a problem) and Steve's flavoursome arse juices. Maybe juices were OK but what they were there to facilitate wasn't. Odd, but not my problem luckily. I guessed that tomorrow Steve's ideas might be wild. Good! Bob and I were both sucking and licking, our mouths slurping and generally going at each other's cocks like boys demented. Each of us was clasping the other's body tightly, making as much skin-to-skin erotic contact as possible. This was a race to cum as quickly as possible, a race to empty our balls - for the second time in 15 minutes - into the greedy mouth, and stomach, of the boy to whose cock you were doing the same. From the groans of 'mmm' we were both making it was obvious that the race was nearing its climax. Bob came first, and I could feel three hard spurts of his cum splashing the inside of my mouth. I was on top and the next thing I felt was a stream of hot piss from Steve running down my back, over my arse crack, and onto Bob's face. Naturally that was all I needed to shoot into Bob. Still clinging onto each other, and still with a mouthful of cock, we turned onto our sides so that Steve's piss could soak both of us. I took my mouth off Bob's cock long enough to tell him that if he wanted to piss exactly where he was that was fine by me. He took his mouth of my cock to say "OK, but d'you mind if you don't piss in my mouth?" "Fine," I said, "you go ahead. I'll wait." Soon he started to let go and before long I was swallowing as hard as I could. I'm usually pretty good at this, and I was pleased that not a precious drop was spilt. Steve's cock had finished pissing by this time. "You'll get mine tomorrow," he grinned. Bob and I stood up. "Lie down, you two," I said, "I feel the need to pass water." I sprayed it round all over both of them. Neither was remotely bothered by being pissed on anywhere - body, face, hair even. I found this very strange given Bob's reluctance to play shit games. He drew the line in a very odd place. I looked forward to discovering more tomorrow when Bob and Jack would be up to no good, leaving Steve and me to unspeakable vileness. Three wet boys, covered in piss. One large bath. Drain piss, wring out towel ("Just throw it over there, Greg'll deal with it. He's had plenty wet towels before," from one brother. "I think he sniffs them," from the other.") All into a huge shower, washing each other, much cock-grasping, but fooling about, as boys do, rather than anything sexual. It's curious how subtle that off-switch is: one moment it's what our American cousins call grab-ass; the next moment it's a caress as the first step to a fuck. Right now it was grab-ass. We needed recovery time from these multiple cums. Dried and dressed I decided that a walk in Grovelands Park might be fun. I took them to the wanking bushes and was amused to learn that they too had exposed their penises to the open air in the same place. I suppose a good chunk of North London's youth had done the same (probably still were, in 2017 - or is it 2035 now?). I didn't suppose that Greg had been with them though. "How did the Greg thing start?" I asked as we walked round the lake. "I was 7 and Steve was almost 6," said Bob. We'd had a nanny until then, right from when I was born, but she left. I don't know why - no-one ever told us. We were both heart-broken because she was the one who looked after us and loved us. Our parents have always been distant - either our father's abroad on some business and our mother's with him, or they're for ever going to places for dinners and meetings. We don't see them much even when they're here. I think they're quite fond of us, but you'd be pushed to feel any affection." I was sorry to hear all this - it seemed to be a pattern in this well-heeled area, given Jack's absence of love as well. "So where did Greg fit in?" "He just appeared one day - now that we're older we think it was the day before the nanny left, and we guess that Greg basically either pushed her out, or she saw that her days were numbered. Greg can be - or he could be then - quite fierce." "What on earth made your parents think he was a suitable person to look after two small boys?" "He was our father's batman - his personal servant - in the War and at some point he saved his life - our father's, that is. That apparently gives him a hold over Dad so when Dad learned that Greg was out of a job he offered him one here." "That's fine, but he didn't have to offer him the nanny's job. Couldn't Greg have been a handyman, or a chauffeur or something?" "Don't as me. All we know is that this bloke appeared at bath time one night and said he would be looking after us from now on. We were shattered, as you can guess, and we cried ourselves to sleep for a good few nights. Greg's ploy was to wait until the crying had started and to come in to 'comfort' us. You can guess what 'comforting' meant, and of course we both responded immediately - or our cocks did. It took a lot longer for our heads to accept Greg, and our hearts never will. But our cocks loved it, and still do. Don't get me wrong: Greg's an utter arsehole, but sex with him is unbelievable. Lots and often. What more could horny teenagers want?" A very quiet voice whispered in my ear "to be shat on." "All in good time," I whispered back. By now we had circumnavigated the lake and the swings were in front of us. There were several boys and girls playing on the various things. Steve took up the story. "We've had sex with three of these kids," he said. "That one (a tall thin boy of about 14 with nothing to attract him to me), that one (a boy of no more than 10, small and pretty, ("We did him two weeks ago and he's up for a lot more. He's pretty special"), and - pointing to a complete picture of perfection - that one." The last one was 13 or so, with red hair, freckles and the wickedest grin imaginable. I was envious. "What did you do with him?" I asked. "Very little, sadly," said Steve. "He was very keen when I gave him a grope and he followed me into the bushes, and he let me get his cock out and wank it a bit. But when I bent down to suck it he ran off. Silly bugger." I could only agree - what a pity it was that a ginger stunner should be so unwilling. Steve stopped me. "Look," he said, "we know nothing about you, but we both love what we do. Bob and I have talked about this and we're up for it if you are - it's up to you." What could this be, I wondered. Bob took over. "The 10-year-old - his name's Dan - is as horny as we were at his age, and when we had him before he was really keen to do it again. Shall we ask him now?" I thought for all of about three seconds. I had never had any kind of sex with a boy that young (not since I was that age myself), but if he was as wired as Steve and Bob suggested what had I to lose? "Yeah, let's do that," I said. Steve wandered over to where Dan was on the swings and I could see a conversation taking place. Bob and I walked slowly on. I heard a whoop of excitement and, turning round, I could see Dan rushing towards Bob beaming all over his face. "Hi Bob!" he said, "who's this?" "This is Peter," said Bob, "and he plays with Steve and me the same as you do. We fancy playing together now." "Goody"" was the 10-year-old's only comment. Steve sauntered up. "Like taking sweets off a blind kid," he said. It was refreshing to meet someone for whom political correctness meant precisely nothing. I said quietly to Bob, "what does he like?" "You'll see," was the enigmatic reply, "it'll be worth the wait, I promise." Bob and Dan raced ahead of us. Steve and I walked back to their mansion. There was still no sign of Greg. "Where's Greg?" I asked Steve. "D'you really want to know?" he asked. "Why not? Is it something you think I'd rather not know?" My curiosity was well and truly piqued. "I'll tell you, but you must promise it won't alter what you do, or how you do it." I agreed, even more curious now. Steve said, "I told you a lie earlier when we said we'd no idea whether he could hear what we're up to. We didn't want to scare you, but now I've got to tell you the truth. He's got our bedrooms and the bathroom rigged with tiny spy cameras. I think he was in that kind of spy secret stuff in the War. He films everything we do and plays it back to get off whatever rocks he has. Don't ask me how, but he tells us how much he's enjoyed watching what we do, and he's watched us with Jack. You'll be the star attraction tonight. Well, you might have competition from Dan, but don't for God's sake let him know about Greg." This was strange indeed, but given that everything about me was strange I didn't find it difficult to accept. Why would I worry if Greg got pleasure from watching me fuck boys? I didn't want to see or have anything to do with him, but an unseen Greg was fine by me. "Do your visitors know about the filming?" "God, no. They'd probably never come back, and we'd be the losers. No, it's all a big secret: you're the only one who knows, and we've got to keep it that way. OK? Occasionally we make him show us some of the best bits. That's fun!" and he grinned at the recollection. By now we were all in Bob's room sitting on his bed. "Well?" said Dan. ============================================================================== 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