Date: Sat, 8 Jul 2017 21:55:40 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Fourteen Again Chapter 57 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 57 Jack and I went to bed at around 9. Well, we went to his bedroom. I knew that this would be the last night I would spend with him, and I knew that I would have to tell him somehow. Tomorrow we'd both go to Barry's, but what we would do there wouldn't have the same just-you-and-me-ness of a night with Jack in Jack's bed. There was no point in planning - I would just judge the moment when it came. He was about to take his clothes off when I stopped him. "No," I said, "let me undress you." He sat on the side of the bed. I knelt at his feel and unbuckled his sandals - all boys wore sandals in the summer in those days, with - as unfashionable as it may seem in 2017 - short ankle socks. I took his sandals off and slowly removed his socks, revealing his soft feet. We'd showered at Bob's, so the only scent was a scent of musky boy - quite different from the musky scent of his balls: a different kind of sweat, I guess. Very slowly I sucked each toe in turn - little left to big left, then little right to big right, licking carefully between each toe. He'd never experienced this before, and he wriggled like a 3-year-old. When I was satisfied that his feet were adequately cleaned I got up and whispered, "stand." When he was standing I knelt down again and unfastened the top button of his jeans. Very slowly I pulled the zip down, inch by inch. Inside his white underpants did little to mask his swelling cock, but I was in no hurry. When the zip was fully down I eased the jeans off his hips - slender still as his musculature had hardly begun to develop. When his jeans were at his feet I gently lifted each foot in turn, freeing his legs at last. They were beginning to grow fair hairs, unlike his ginger pubes (still hidden: I was saving that treat). "Sit back down," I whispered. I licked his left ankle, my tongue slowly working its way up the outside of his left leg, then round to the hot hollow behind his knee - a third scent there - and slowly, slowly up the inside of his left thigh. I could sense him getting excited, but I knew we had a long way to go. Just when my tongue was half an inch below the lowest hem of his pants I went quickly to his right ankle, where I repeated the slow lascivious licking climb of his right leg. He's moaning by now. Instead of making further gradual upward progress I shifted my attention to his t-shirt, lifting the hem from his belly and slowly revealing his chest. I pulled it up over his head, but instead of pulling it right off I stopped when his head was covered. Quickly to his left nipple, licking, licking, gently taking it between my teeth, not biting but letting him feel the pressure. Then to his right nipple, already hard from the attention I'd given his left: the same treatment. The moaning is now almost continuous. I lift the t-shirt off and his face is in front of me. He is wreathed in smiles, his eyes are sparkling, his mouth is open, his lips are seeking mine, they find their target, his eyes close, our heads adjust, our mouths feed hungrily on each other, our tongues battle in our mouths. Time stands still. We fall back onto his bed. When minutes have passed I stand up and very quickly strip off - it takes about 15 seconds. Then, kneeling again, I slowly lick up his legs - faster than the first time, but following the same pattern. When I get to the hem of his pants for the second time the wet patch in the front is enormous. The moans have become continuous again and he's leaning up and holding my head, tugging my hair as if to encourage me. I am resisting, of course: I'm in charge this time. I slowly lift the front hem of his pants over his cock, revealed for the first time. His pants come off quickly: the build-up is almost over. His cock is fully hard, and has been for some time. His foreskin is retracted and his reddish-purple cockhead is lying hard up against his belly. There's a pool of precum the size of a half crown under the tip. His cock is pulsing with his heart beat. I raise his legs over my shoulders and bend to lick his balls. He knows what's coming, and he knows it won't be him for quite a while yet. Moan on, lad! I raise his legs higher and push them back over his head. His arse is now completely exposed. His gorgeous ginger pubes are matted with precum, his cock is urgently seeking the release it won't get for some time. His balls, invisibly churning the spunk he'll eventually squirt, seem to be still in their hairless pouch, a pouch bathed by my tongue. But it's his arse I'm really interested in. I touch the lips with my tongue, a butterfly's kiss, imperceptible to any nerves except those guarding the entrance to him, the entrance I'm going to invade. My tongue visits again - it's not a butterfly after all, it's a bee seeking nectar, seeking, seeking and ... the flower opens! My tongue goes in, tasting, tasting. The nectar is divine: boy, pure boy. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to prolong this as long as I want, but I'll make an effort. I rim him, lapping generously all along his crack - yet another scent here, a scent stronger than the others. The boy here is a boy of hot secret places, full of desires which flavour his skin. There's sweat, there's a hint of piss (aphrodisiac indeed!), there's a hint of arse juice, liberated by my insistent tongue. My need is rising, I can't resist much longer. The lube (there's always lube in Jack's bedroom now) is applied, cold, tingling, my fingers go where the nectar is ... one, two ... three ... his moans rise in intensity "oh Peter, pleeeease!", I agree it's time, in I go, slowly slowly inch by inch, my cock hiding itself in the dark hot moist space that is the central part of Jack's being, I start to fuck him then deeper faster faster faster "Oh fuck, Peter, yessssssssssssssssss!" and he cums hugely and gloriously, more than he's ever cum before, an ocean of spunk swamping his belly and I cum too hotly and hard up his arse deep inside the boy I love yes I do even for a moment he's all that matters and I spurt again ... and again and ... I'm spent. So is he. I let my cock slide out of him, a ribbon of cum following and sliding down his arse crack. I lap up his ocean's-worth and share it with him in the cummiest kiss he's ever had. We lie on each other, sweaty and cummy and full of joy. Before I finally fall asleep I send a message of profound thanks to Ace: Ace who loves me enough to give me his blessing to love Jack as I have just done. Ace, whom I love infinitely more because he loves me. Ace, oh Ace, we've so little time. Two or three hours later I wake - I badly need a piss. Rather than wake Jack I tiptoe to the bathroom. It's 2 o'clock. When I get back to bed Jack is half awake. "Where've you been?" "Pissing." "Why didn't you wake me? We could've pissed together." "You looked so cute sprawled out I didn't have the heart to wake you." I kissed him gently, a kiss quite unlike the smooch or the cum-sharer earlier. Funny how there are so many ways of kissing. Funny, come to think of it, that Jack hadn't had any kisses until a few weeks ago. "Go and piss now, and then we can cuddle," I said. When he came back I could smell the dried cum on him - his on his belly and mine on his arse. I pulled him close. "You smell so sexy," I murmured, "I could fuck you all over again." "I doubt it," he whispered, "that was the most wonderful fuck I've ever had, and if I never have another one that good I shan't mind. I think you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." This was the time to say my piece. I held him in my arms. "Look, Jack," I said, "I won't be here after the end of the month - I have to go away." I went on quickly before he could ask why. "This is the last night we'll be together. I wanted that fuck to be special, and it was. It was wonderful for me too. I get so much pleasure from giving you pleasure - that's what it's really about. We've murmured 'I love you' a few times, and we've meant it just for the few seconds when we were at a peak of sexual ecstasy, but we don't really love each other at all - no, don't protest - we care hugely, but when you meet someone and really find yourself loving them you'll know the difference. What you and I shared earlier was up here" (I made a gesture a foot above the bed) "but real love, utterly overwhelming love is up here, way higher." He was quiet. "How do you know, Peter? Are you in love then?" "Yes, Jack, I am. It's a feeling so - I don't know - it just fills me up with sunshine," I ended lamely. I told him about Ace, everything. He was stunned. "And you're just 14 and he loves you too?" "Yes. I can't explain it, but I don't need to. It happened." "Is that where you're going at the end of the month? Away with Ace?" Oh bugger - the question I didn't want. What on earth can I say? "Yes, Jack. You and I will go to Barry's tomorrow - no, this morning - and we'll torture him. When we leave Barry's you'll come home to Polly, and I'll go home - yes, home - to Ace. On Wednesday we'll have a session with Bob and Steve, and Dan if he turns up, and that's when I say goodbye." Tears from Jack. I cuddled him, shushing him and rocking him. "It's OK to be sad. Parting is hell. I'm sad too, 'cos I've had some super times with you and, hey, there's tomorrow and Wednesday." The brave face helped me not to cry as well. My feelings for Robin had been more intense over a much shorter period, but I felt as though I'd known Jack for ages and seen him mature from a lonely boy to a fully-fledged sexual being, adult in many ways, and with a wide range of friends. He would be fine. Sad for a few days, but fine. I did love this boy. It's strange that there are moments of extreme closeness - physical and emotional - when sex is utterly irrelevant. This was such a moment. No doubt we would fuck like rabbits at Barry's and at Bob's, but now we were closer and just needed the close contact of warm skin and a beating heart. We slept. It was almost 6 when I came to. I looked towards Jack and saw that he was awake, propped on his elbow looking at me. "Hi," he said, "I've been looking at you for 10 minutes," and he bent forward to kiss my lips. "What have you seen?" I asked, still sleepy. "The person who in the last 24 days has changed my whole life. I know you're going, and I'll miss you desperately, but I will never forget these days as long as I live. You've taught me so much, not just about sex - though that's been out of this world - but about growing up and being loved. You've shown me that giving pleasure is as important as getting it. If I'm lucky I'll meet someone - man or woman - and I'll have the sort of deep love you have with Ace. I know that's something that I'll recognize when it happens, and when it does I'll think of you. I love what we've done in bed, but I'm only 14 and I know it's likely that this queer thing may just be a phase. I don't know, and I don't really care: what I care about is that you've shown me that I can love, and be loved. That hasn't happened before." And he kissed my lips again. "Thank you, Peter. You will always matter to me." I opened my arms and drew him to me. "Thank you, Jack," I murmured into his ear, "I'll miss you too." I could feel his sobs as the sheer power of the emotional turmoil overcame him, and, 14-year-olds being what they are, my tears flowed easily too. We clung to each other, knowing that when 'tonight' ended the chance to express emotions as raw as this would be gone. It was nearly 8 when we finally let go of each other. "Time to face the world again, Tiger," I said, "let's go and bugger Barry good and proper." That set the tone for the morning: tenderness was back in its box for the time being. As this was the last time I'd set foot in Jack's house I told him I wanted a few minutes on my own with Polly. "What are you going to say?" he asked, with a worried look. "Trust me." I couldn't tell Polly the whole truth - who would believe the fairy story? - and I wasn't sure that bringing Ace into the picture was clever either. Polly saw me as a wiser person that your average 14-year-old and I had to reinforce that perception - accurate, after all - rather than weaken it. Telling her that I'd fallen in love with a man twice my age and was in the process of being whisked away over the hills on his white stallion wouldn't lend seriousness. I kept it simple. I told her I was moving away (always a useful form of words) in a few days and wouldn't see her again. Kids move away all the time as their parents move house, and have to put up with the inevitable social upheaval of leaving friends. This was ordinary enough. What wasn't ordinary was the nature of the relationship Jack and I had, which she well understood. She interrupted me. "Peter, I'll be sorry not to see you. You've turned Jack from a lonely boy to a confident happy teenager. I know how and I'm not worried. He'll be stronger for having known you. You've brought love into this house where it's been a stranger for years. I love him too, but -" and here Polly's tears started to flow. I hugged her. "Don't say any more, Polly, look after him. He'll be sad for a few days but he'll get over it. Thanks for everything you've done for us - you've made a huge difference by being blind." She smiled. "Go, Peter, and God bless!" Two hours later Jack and I were in Croydon heading for Barry's lair when a thunderbolt struck me. I hadn't made any plan for getting back to Harlow today. I didn't know where Ace and King lived as I'd only ever arrived or left on Ace's bike. I didn't even know their surname. If I could get myself to the outskirts of Harlow I could probably trace the route, but I was far from certain. Fuck! Jack could see I was worried. "What's up?" he asked. I told him. "Blimey. What will you do?" "No idea. Maybe I'll think of something," but I wasn't sure. This would put a blight on the day until I could come up with an idea. Barry answered the door as soon as we got there. He greeted us with a cheesy grin. "Come on guys, I'm ready for you." We went up to his room, Jack bouncy, me less so. How could I have been so stupid? Ace meant more to me than anyone, and I'd maybe lost him. Once in Barry's room we sat on his bed. Up to now I'd taken the lead in these encounters, but not today. "You're in charge, Jack," I said, "I need to think." With part of my mind I heard Jack and Barry discuss what we'd do. I know Jack asked Barry to tell him what he wanted to happen to him, but the details went in one ear and out of the other. I would play my part when told. Damn! No ... wait! I'd got it. "Can I use your phone?" I asked. "Yeah, 'course. Who are you phoning?" "I'm not too sure. I need to find a number in Harlow." "Where's that?" asked our host. "Essex, so the operator should be able to find it." In the event it took a lot longer in 1957 than it would have done 60 years later in the Internet age. In 2017 googling 'gay builder harlow' would have got me there instantly, but I needed to charm the operator into going further than would have been normal. Time to put on my little boy lost behaviour. I dialled 100. I explained that I was lost and needed to call my foster parents in Harlow. "Do you know the number?" "No, I only met them yesterday and I've been really stupid and I ran away and ... " The well-placed silence worked. "Oh, dear," she said, "let's see. Harlow, you said. You don't know their name?" "No," I snuffled, "but he's a builder. Can you look up builders?" A couple of minutes passed. "There are three I can see. I'll give you the numbers and you can phone them to see which ones are your foster parents. I do hope you find them. If you don't, then phone again and ask for me - my name's Phyllis. And if you do find them, don't run away again, will you? I'm sure they love you and will be very worried." Now the snuffling didn't have to be put on. The mention of love hit the target all right. "Thank you, Phyllis. I promise I'll be more grown-up." I wrote down the three numbers. The first one was answered by a woman, so I said, "oh sorry! wrong number." I didn't think it likely that Ace and King would have female company, or even a female cleaner, given their bedroom set-up. The second rang and rang far ages. It could easily have been Ace's. The third was answered by a man who certainly wasn't Ace, so I did the 'wrong number' thing again. I would have to try the second number again later. Bugger! When I went back up to Barry's room they had started. Barry was - surprise! - naked and tied face down by his ankles and wrists in an X on a large towel he'd already spread on his bed before we arrived. His buttocks were already red where Jack had started to administer the required punishment. "Any good?" "Not yet, but I'll try again later. Let's give this piece of dirt the punishment he deserves. What has he confessed to?" ============================================================================== Sorry about the delay. Should be back to normal now. 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