GANYMEDE

This short story contains scenes of sexual activity between a teenage boy and adult males. Don't read if that's not your thing. If it is your thing, then I hope you enjoy it, and, enjoy it or not, please remember to make a donation to Nifty.

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GANYMEDE, by Ivor Sukwell

 

Late spring at last, weather warmer, days longer and the theatres open again. The Theatre, The Rose and The Globe will be putting on plays again, the crowds will flock in and I can start earning money once more.

It's hard in the winter; the theatres are closed and the only decent crowds are the ones that gather to watch a hanging. True, there are a fair few hangings and there's usually some business to be done there because most men get hard watching a hanging, but the crowd is always packed with whores and they grab most of the potential customers.

There are plenty of purses to be cut, naturally, but I've always avoided doing that; far too much chance of getting caught, and if you are caught, well, you're the next to go dancing in the air.

I've seen enough of that to keep well clear of cutting purses. True, if it is a boy being hanged the crowds are greater, mostly, I guess, because a thin, skinny, scrawny, undernourished boy of eleven or so spends a lot more time doing his dance than a grown man or woman does, hasn't got the weight on him to pull the rope tight enough to finish him off quickly, has he.

So if one of the boys does get caught and dangled there's always a good crowd to watch and trade can be fairly decent then, because quite a few of the men watching find they fancy a boy's arse after watching a boy hang, boys do better trade then than whores.

So, if you haven't worked it out already, I'm what is politely known as a `Ganymede', which means I make my money with my arse. Not just my arse naturally, my mouth comes in for a fair bit of use and there are some men who like using my cock and that's all fine by me.

We're all in it for the same thing, really, all the Ganymede's. We all hope that one day we'll land a man with some money who takes a real fancy to us and take us on as a servant so he can do what men like doing with boys whenever he fancies.

We all know that apprentices, stable boys, servants, the lot, are all used to having cocks in their arses; why else would any man want to go to the trouble of training a boy, or providing food and shelter if he wasn't getting a nice, tight arse to fuck in exchange?

Men like fucking women, of course they do, but if you want something a bit different, a bit special, then you need a boy.

"Anyone who doesn't love tobacco and boys is a fool," my man once said, and I reckon he's right. I've sucked on the pipes of quite a lot of men, and had mine sucked plenty of times as well now, and it don't matter if you're sucking for smoke or seed; just a different sort of enjoyment, that's all.

I started being a bum-boy when I was ten. I know, a bit late, but there wasn't any need for me to be earning before then. My father had a reasonable job in the docks and we had plenty to live on. Not everything that comes off a ship finds its way to market after all, so we ate well enough. Then my father got himself stabbed in some fight or other and me and my mother were left to fend for ourselves.

She got in a few pennies with various things and I had the choice of cutting purses or selling my arse.

"No point in risking getting hung when you can get money by bending over," my mother told me, so off I went to work.

One thing I have to make very clear is that I soon found I enjoyed my work. Yes, the first few times it hurt bad, but once I'd learned what to do I started liking it, and when I began working the theatres instead of just the hangings and got picked up by a better class of client, I couldn't wait to get to work every afternoon.

I discovered that it wasn't just a matter of dropping your britches and bending over, which is all it had been up till then, but that there were men who wanted to do you in a bed instead of the nearest alley, and they wanted you naked and not simply with your arse in the air.

By the time I was eleven I knew that if I kept myself clean and free of lice, and made it clear that I knew how to use my mouth as well as my arse, then I was getting a better class of client and getting better paid as well.

I'd been working for almost two years when I met him.

I was at The Rose early. You hardly ever get any trade before a play, but if you hang around where the better-off go in there's always a chance you might catch the eye of someone who wants a bit of boy after the play, and then you know where to be when it's over and he knows where to find you.

There weren't many people about, I was too early really, but always worth being early and hanging around if you're hoping for something decent, when a group of four strolled past.

They were talking together and I didn't think they'd even noticed me at first. Strange thing about men – they never seem to notice Ganymedes unless they're actually looking for one – and this lot had gone past me before one of them turned round, looked and then said something to the others. They carried on, he came towards me.

I thought it was my lucky day because he was a man I'd have no problems bending over for. Around thirty and clean shaven apart from a very neat little pointed beard, no signs of pox on his face and dressed in a way that showed he had money. A Ganymede's delight indeed.

I knew I was good at my work and thought I may be able to use my skills well enough to get a reasonable fee and, wild dreams, even tempt him enough to want to use me again.

He came quite close and looked me all over, and must have liked what he saw well enough because he spoke.

"A Ganymede, I assume," he said, "How old?"

Like just about every other boy in the business I was skinny and scrawny – you don't get fat when you earn your food with your arse – so I knew that the boy he saw could have been anything from ten to about fourteen.

"Thirteen," I said, "Just."

"You look clean."

He sounded as though he was surprised at that, which was reasonable enough for most boys selling their arses don't have the chance to keep clean, even if they were inclined to.

"I am," I said, "I wash all over every day."

He raised his eyebrows at that.

"Unusual," he said, a tiny hint of a smile on his lips.

"I am unusual," I said, boldly, "I'm very good at what I do and I know men don't want to go away with lice after they've fucked a boy."

"So I won't get bitten when I fuck you?" he actually smiled.

"You won't get bitten, your purse won't get picked and you'll have a very good fuck. And you'll give me fair payment for that fuck."

"Perhaps I'll fuck you and throw you out without payment," he said, and his eyes twinkled.

"I think not," I stood my ground, "For by your dress you are some gentleman and your honour would not let you cheat me. And my honour as a Ganymede will not let me cheat you. You fuck me first and pay me what you think the value of it when you are done."

He laughed out loud and took me by the shoulder.

"A boy of some spirit and not a little wit," he said as he led me towards the theatre, "But be aware that not all who dress well are gentlemen indeed."

"I know that well already, sir," I answered, "But I have known some men and your eyes are honest."

"Bravely spoken, little Ganymede," he said, "If you are as good with your arse as you are with your words I shall have no complaint."

"Good with my arse," I told him, "And my mouth knows other uses than the speaking of words."

I knew long since that there are men who like best to have their cocks in a boy's mouth, like it better even than in a boy's arse, and men of that inclination treat a Ganymede well, both in payment and in the earning of that payment.

He stopped, turned me by the shoulder to look into his eyes,

"If that be so," he said, "Perchance I have found a Ganymede worthy of the name."

And if I prove worthy of that name, I thought, perchance I may have found a Zeus worthy of my arse.

Be not surprised that I, a mere Ganymede, should know enough of learned things to know of Zeus, for I have been around the theatres and been buggered enough by men of some learning to acquire some knowledge, aye, and can even cipher some, though but little.

"And should I be so, indeed, will you then be Zeus to me?" I asked, knowing he would be surprised to find I knew enough to know what he spoke of.

Surprised he was and looked at me again and with eyes that searched into me, then led me by the shoulder again, though not to the theatre where I had supposed he was headed, but to a tavern nearby, those that had been with him already there.

All looked at me with disdain when I entered, his arm on my shoulder, and one with more disdain than the others. An older man, near or even beyond fifty by my guess, and he wore a full beard of a style affected by those of some station.

"We have talk of some import, Kit," he said, "No place to bring your catamite."

I knew of his type, men of power who affected to disgust when confronted with boys like me, but men who fucked boys' arses as hard as any other man when the mood took them, aye, and were mean with their money after.

"Would you not wish to fuck him had you found him, Will?" the man with his hand on my shoulder who I now knew was named Kit, asked, the smile on his lips not a pleasant one. "Or is he perchance a little grown for your taste?"

I felt some fear then, for this was an insult meant and men of some power take not kindly to insult.

"I question not the intended deed," the one named Will said slowly, his voice calm, "But the time and the place. We have matters of some import to discuss."

"And nothing to me," Kit answered lightly, "Is ever of greater import than a boy's arse. I would have him take food and drink, and while he eats and drinks look you all three closely at him and later tell me what you see."

He had me brought the same meat and ale as they had and though I was in some state of nerves I ate well, for good food never goes amiss to a boy who only sees others eat such.

"Well," he said when platters were empty, "What saw you? I ask not out of idle curiosity, but with meaning in my question."

Though at least one there was a man of more power than Kit, he led them in this for they answered as they saw.

"I see a ragged boy," the one called Will said, "A half-starved boy by the way he crammed meat into his mouth; and I see a boy who sells his arse."

"And you, Povey?" Kit asked another.

"I too see a ragged boy, and one who I would take to have an arsehole so wide that when he shits it touches not the sides."

I liked not that one, he had a cruel look to him.

"I see a Ganymede, older than most, but a Ganymede still. No doubt a good enough fuck if such are to your liking."

That one, I thought, was a careful man, a man who weighed his words before he spoke them.

"Gentles, I thank you," Kit said with a beaming smile, "Now I will take this Ganymede to a chamber above where he may earn his meal. The matters of import to be talked about can be talked about in my absence for it is only the conclusions that are of interest to me. An hour will suffice."

He rose from his stool, bowed to the others, took me again by the shoulder and led me to stairs and to a chamber above where he would fuck me.

That this pleased not the ones below I knew, for they muttered and grumbled as we left them, but if this was because Kit was taking me off to fuck and they had no boys of their own, or if the things they wished to talk of were of real import to them I cared not.

"I would have you naked," Kit said as he closed the door to the chamber, and that pleased me, for a man who wants a boy naked and not just bent over with his britches round his ankles is a man who knows how to fuck a boy properly.

He inspected my body carefully, peering close into the hairs above my cock, for I was old enough for hair there now, and had me bend and open my arse for him to inspect. I worried not about this for I was clean and free of lice and crabs.

"You told me true," he said with a touch of wonder in his voice.

"I had no reason to do other," I said, "Bad enough that hair grows now, if I were dirty and lice ridden no man would want me."

"Worry not about the hair," he smiled at me, "It is a thing you cannot stop the growing of and with it comes the growing of your cock, already a thing to please a man's hands and mouth."

That was a surprise to me, for though I have been once or twice with a man who liked my cock for his pleasure, I had not expected such from one who spoke so freely about fucking me.

A surprise, too, when I saw he was shedding his own clothes, for that is a complicated task for a man well-dressed, and not usual, unless there is a bed intended to be shared and a night spent.

A bed indeed there was and he laid me on it, joining me there and taking me in his arms and I knew then that he had intent to do more than just fuck me and I sighed with pleasure for all boys long to be naked in the arms of a man and loved fully.

Loved I was, for he kissed me deep and felt all my body before he took my cock into his mouth and I moved around so I could take his also, and though this was a thing I had never done before, taken a man's cock in my mouth whilst mine was in his, it was a thing easy learned and great pleasure to do.

It was a thing of wonder to have my cock in his mouth for it was a thing that happened for me almost never and the pleasure it gave me was great and I longed for it to be a thing that men would do often, but I feared when my seed began to rise for my cock was still in his mouth and he would not let me remove it.

I shot my seed there while he was sucking me and feared he would be angry, but he was not, and though he bid me keep him in my mouth, he stroked me and told me that I had fed him the best of cream.

I understood that he wanted to spend his seed in my mouth also, and this I minded not much. Men had done so before, and though I would usually spit it on the floor I minded not the taste, though I thought it not like any cream I had eaten.

His I did not spit, but swallowed all and that, I could see, pleased him greatly for he smiled and held me close and said I was indeed, truly a real Ganymede.

He reached then for his clothing and when he was again dressed, he took a shilling from his purse and pressed it in my hand.

I held it tight a moment, then held my hand out to him, the shilling on my palm.

"This I have not earned," I said, "For you did not fuck me and I have little enough earned the meat and ale."

"You earned that well enough," he smiled, "And you may keep the shilling for I have a task for you. Search for me and find another boy, one, if you can, that has hardly started yet to sell his arse, and bring him to this tavern before the curfew sounds."

I understood then why he had not fucked me, for he wanted arse younger than mine and I grudged him not that, but vowed to myself that I would find him a fresh boy, one who had not yet taken cock, and bring him meat of a flavour to his taste, for he had been good and kind to me.

Boys there were aplenty in the Rookery and many who would give their arse for a month for the shilling I clutched and finding one of ten or less years would be a task of some ease.

I left that tavern and left Kit to have his talk with the others who waited there for him, and though, not being there, I knew not what was said, I learned much of it later.

 

"You saw but a Ganymede," Kit spoke when he returned to them, "You saw nothing but a boy who sells his arse."

"What else to see?" Povey shrugged, "A boy you found and fucked."

"Saw you no more?" Kit asked, "None of you more than that?"

"That you found him, brought him here and took him above to fuck him while we should have talked. As Povey said, what else to see?"

Will's displeasure was evident, his anger barely hidden.

"Ale here," Kit called and when it was brought, he said quietly, "Then the boy is perfect. Did none of you not smell him? Did none see that his hair moved not? Did none see beyond his ragged clothing?"

"I understand not, Kit," the third man said, "Why should we see such things?"

"Because he looked like a Ganymede you took him for one, took him to be what he seemed. Am I expected to work with men who see so little?"

"Was he not, then, a Ganymede?" Will asked, "Did you not fuck him? What purpose in this?"

"The purpose in this is that we are men who deal in secrets, and men who deal in secrets should be aware of the secrets of others. Our lives depend on knowing who is true and who false. Boys as well as men. Yes, that boy is a Ganymede, all knew that when we passed him in the street. I stopped and spoke with him, brought him here. All three of you thought that was because he was a boy whose arse I could fuck and you all know well boys' arses hold great appeal to me. I stopped because when we passed I did not smell him. I spoke with him to see if I was mistaken, I was not. I noted that his hair was free of lice. How many boys who sell their arses are freshly washed and free of lice?"

A silence round the table as three spies considered their failings.

"I brought him here and fed him, bid you observe him while he ate and you noticed only a boy with an arse to sell, and all assumed that I took him above to make use of that arse."

"Did you not, then?" Povey asked, covering his own error, or so he hoped.

"I used him, yes, and will perchance use him more, in more ways than one," Kit said. "I gave him a shilling and told him to find me another boy, someone young and fresh, not used to cock in his arse, and bring him here before curfew."

"Use him to procure more boys for you to fuck," Will said, disdain in his voice.

"How many boys who sell their bodies do you think there are who would do more than take that shilling and never be seen again?" Kit demanded.

"All," Povey stated.

"And if he returns, before curfew, with another boy?"

"Then he is unusual, but what is that to us?"

"A Ganymede may get close to men who would keep secrets, a chance meeting of three or four in a street and a boy hoping for trade? See you no use in that?"

"That he may spy for us?"

"Just so. His eyes and ears will get places we could never get. London crawls with Ganymedes, who notices them but those wanting an arse to fuck? Who would recognise one from another?"

"Think you Sir Francis would agree?"

"Will," Kit sighed, "We know all that Sir Francis would whore his daughters if it brought him information. If the boy returns I will use him. Plots abound in this city and we are charged to find the plotters."

 

I thought to keep the shilling, for a shilling was more than my arse would earn in several days, but I had made a vow to find a boy for Kit. True that I had made that vow only to myself, but made it I had and would not break it.

True also that it upset me more than some that Kit wanted a young boy to fuck, for I had taken a fancy to him and to his cock and would fain have had that cock inside me, but perchance, if I found a boy for him he would reward me by taking my cock in his mouth once more.

There are boys by the hundred in the Rookery, but few reach an age of ten and still not fucked. Young boys are fair game for men and boys in the Rookery, and no payment needed either; to find one of the right age with no knowledge of taking cock inside him would be some task.

Boys do not hang around and play in the Rookery, they work. They scrabble in rubbish for anything of use, they scavenge the river banks for anything that may be eaten, searching the foul mud for stranded shellfish when the tide is out, fighting the cats for fish heads thrown by fishwives when they gut.

A group of six or seven were searching the mud, and though of the right age I knew none would have an arse untouched by cock.

"You want what?" One demanded, leaving the mud to come close enough to threaten.

"Information only," I said, trying to be calm, "A man charged me with finding him a boy."

"Easy enough," the boy said, "Seven of us here."

"One who has an arse not yet used," I shrugged, "If any such boy exists."

That produced the snort of laughter I expected.

"Any like that are still sucking on their mothers' tits," he said, "Tear one of those away if you will."

"A penny for anyone who knows where I may find one," I offered, knowing that money can get anything in the Rookery.

"Might be one," the boy said, his tone changing and holding out his hand for the penny.

"When you show me the boy," I am no fool to part with a penny for nothing.

"Show me the penny," he said and I did, but kept it well from him.

"Down there, right at the end. You may find one there."

"Is that all?" I asked, "Down where I get my throat cut for a halfpenny there may be a boy."

"New," another voice piped in, "Been there a week since their man got hung."

"Big fellow," I asked, "Great black beard on him, dangled for murder?"

"No," the voice said, "Little chap, swung for stealing."

I remembered that one and the fuss that followed. The crowd had expected a good hanging but the man's woman and boy had somehow broken past the constables and hauled on the victim's legs, breaking his neck quickly so the fun was short lived as well as the man.

"Stayed well hidden," the boy who was in front of me said, "Cost people a lot of money, finishing him off that quickly."

I could understand them staying hidden; whores, Ganymedes, pie sellers, all would have lost trade with a hanging over so quickly and they would not forgive easily.

I had a memory of the boy as well, thought him to be perhaps nine or ten.

"Perhaps I will be lucky, then," I said and tossed the boy his penny. He wasn't arguing, he could buy a whole fresh loaf for that.

I found them easily enough, for even in the Rookery, no-one sinks so low as to have to live there where a gentle curve in the river means all the filth and shit stays on the bank, even at high tide.

They looked suspicious as I approached, a woman and a boy, clearly almost starving. I ignored the woman and looked at the boy; thin and filthy, but he seemed of the right age.

"You," I said, still ignoring the mother, "How old?"

He looked to his mother for help and she gave the answer,

"Nine," she said, "Ten before mid-summer."

"Have you been fucked?" I asked, seeing no need to be other than direct.

"No," he whispered, a hint of a tear showing in his eye. He knew well enough that soon he would be.

"A shilling for his arse," I said to the mother, "I have a man by The Rose who would fuck him tonight."

"Give me the shilling and his arse is yours," the mother said without hesitation. "Do I get him back afterwards?"

"I'll return him tomorrow," I said, "And he'll know then what his arse is for and can earn money instead of sitting in this foul place."

"Keep him if you want," she said as I led him away "I don't want him back."

Nobody questioned me leading a crying, snivelling boy through and away from the Rookery. Any who saw would have guessed that I was taking a boy off to his first fucking, but none cared. Boys get fucked and if someone manages to make some money out of it, good fortune to them.

I could not present him to Kit as he was, so when we passed a pond I threw him in. It did little to really clean him, but did wash off some of the filth and smell.

"Wait," I told him when we reached the tavern, "If you run I'll find you and slit your throat."

He was already too frightened to run and the threat did no more than to leave him frozen to the spot.

Inside, Kit was sitting on his own and I ran up to him, though I stayed a yard or two away as I knew there was smell on me now.

"Boy is outside," I said, "But he'll need cleaning."

"And not just him," Kit smiled, "You have some of his perfume on you. Let us see what you have brought," he said and followed me from the tavern.

"Not ten till mid-summer," I told him, "And never had his arse filled. Is he what you wanted?"

"Indeed he is," Kit smiled again, "And indeed you are."

I didn't know what he meant by that but it sounded nice.

"Take him to the stables," Kit said, "And have him washed thoroughly. Tell the stable boy to use horse soap on him and groom his hair well. And if you wash also it would not be amiss."

He put another shilling in my hand, "For the stable boy," he said, "He'll earn it."

The stable boy thought it great amusement to wash two naked boys instead of grumpy horses, and took his chance to feel my cock and balls more than one time, a liberty I permitted with a grin. Aye, and a wink also, for if Kit wanted me not then this stable boy would fill my arse and I had not been fucked that day and too late now to earn.

We were sent back to the tavern through a rear door, wrapped in blankets from the stables. They smelt some of horse, but men know well the smell of horse and I doubted not that Kit would take it not amiss.

My clothing I did protest some about, for though old and ragged they were all I owned and I wanted not to be sent naked from the tavern when Kit had finished with me. That would have me in the stocks, something I'd managed to avoid as yet.

My protests were as nothing and, along with the boy I had brought for Kit to fuck, I was hustled up back stairs to the chamber he had taken.

"Ale, some cold meat and bread, a basin of hot water and soap, if you would, Meg," Kit said to the woman who had brought us to his chamber.

He seemed not a whit concerned that two boys were being delivered to him, and boys are of only one use to a man at night.

A large fire blazed in the hearth, for though it was now Spring the nights were cold still. Kit sat beside the fire, a burning pipe in his hand. He had moved not when we were brought, nor when he gave his order to the woman he named as Meg.

He looked at me and raised an eyebrow and I knew I should remove the blanket, and so I did, standing now naked before him. I was pleased that he wanted me naked for I doubted that he would dismiss me at once having me uncovered before him, and had hopes that he would again use his mouth on me.

He flicked a finger at the boy I had brought, its meaning clear, and, though less eagerly than I, the boy removed the blanket from his body.

He was not, if truth be told, a sight to gladden many eyes, his thin body marked all over with the bites where lice had feasted, but I knew that men worried not about such things, their interest in the arse and nothing more.

A concern though, that Meg would return and find us both unclothed, for it is one thing to assume that a man will fuck boys but another to see the evidence clear before the eyes.

Meg did indeed return and saw us thus. Me she ignored with her eyes, the boy she peered at.

"Some salve needed there, Master Kit," she said, "Should I fetch some?"

And so she did, and indeed covered the skinny boy with it, taking no care as to where her hands went, and what the boy did think when she smothered around his privates I knew not.

He did blush deep, but stood, unprotesting, aware at least that protest would be of no avail.

"Be mostly gone by morning," Meg announced with a cheery smile, "And itch not during the night so he should sleep fine."

As though the boy was here to sleep, I thought, no boy goes to sleep while he is being fucked.

My surprise was great when Kit spoke to me. He had looked hard and long at my naked form and I enjoyed his so doing, but I had thought it was the boy he wished to fuck, not me.

"A sight to gladden the heart, indeed," Kit smiled, his eyes hard on my cock, "But a sight that can yet be made better."

Then fear ran through me, for Kit produced a razor and called me close.

"Worry not," he smiled when he saw my fear, "It is but the hair I shall remove."

That is as maybe, and the loss of the hair I would not regret, for men like boys to be young and hairless for their pleasure and my living comes from letting men take their pleasure with me, but sharp steel close to my cock and stones gave me pause indeed!

Kit was careful, though, and shaved me clean as the little boy I had brought him, the crack of my arse also, so I seemed a little boy again, and not a single nick on my skin he made.

"Now," he smiled, "You are a very Ganymede indeed."

I smiled also, for I could look down and see I was now smooth where there had been hair, and though it made my cock appear larger, I knew it would make also my arse more a thing of desire.

Surprises did not finish there, for when I dared to ask Kit if he would fuck the boy I had brought him, he laughed openly.

"I did not ask you to bring me a boy to fuck," he said, "I but asked you to bring me a boy young and unused to cock."

"So have I done," I said, puzzled.

"Indeed you have, and done well in so doing, for you have earned the shilling I gave you."

"That you gave me to find a boy for you," I said, "And I used it honestly and brought you one."

I told how I had found the boy and given his mother the shilling for his arse and she had said to keep him if I wished.

"So you bought the boy," Kit smiled, and, indeed, I supposed that I had done so, but with money that was his, not mine.

"Indeed, not so," Kit said, "For I gave you the money. True indeed, I set you a task, and a test also. If you returned to me with, or indeed without a boy, then I would know you are honest indeed, and can be trusted fully."

"I am honest," I protested, "I may sell my arse, but I am honest in my dealings."

"That you are," Kit agreed, "And I am glad of it, for I have uses for you and would have you in my bed for more than this one night."

That gladdened my heart, for I would share his bed whenever he so desired and told him so, and he pulled me close where he sat and his hand squeezed the mounds of my arse and I hoped that he would fuck me soon.

"And what of him?" I asked.

"What, indeed," Kit said and stroked my legs, "He is yours, do with him what you will."

"Mine?"

"You bought him, he is yours."

"Then I will sell his arse," I said without a moment of thought, "He will soon repay the shilling I paid for him."

"A Ganymede of some enterprise," Kit laughed, "Though I would you fucked him first and took your pleasure in his arse, for that you would enjoy."

I would indeed, for though thirteen, I have yet to fuck a boy and would fain learn why men take so much delight in doing so.

"I will do so," I grinned widely, and emboldened much, declared, "But I would fain have your cock inside me and mine in your mouth again."

Kit laughed, pulled me onto his sitting lap and pushed his mouth against mine and I opened wide for his tongue and with his tongue came desire and my arse called loud for his cock.

I know not how many times I have been fucked, but none was like the fucking I then had.

Kit greased my hole and entered slow, and I felt every moment of his entry as a separate pleasure, my hole opening slowly as he pushed, welcoming his cock inside and I knew he was taking time to make it a fucking I would remember.

Mostly men push in hard and spend their seed quickly, but Kit not so.

When finally he was in and I was filled with his cock, he moved in me, not with lust but with concern that my pleasure should be as his, and when, as it must, lust overrides all, I used all the skills I had learned with my arse so that he would want to have the pleasure of fucking me many times more.

I felt his cock in me as I have never felt a cock before. Hosts of cocks I have had inside me, but never one like this. It consumed me, my body became devoted to the thing that drove into my bowels, aye, my mind also, and my soul, for it claimed my entire being.

I used all the skill I had with my arse, gripping him tight when he thrust in, and less so when he drew back to thrust again.

I heard myself begging him to use me for his pleasure and so he did, but I know that even so doing, he wanted my pleasure as well.

His cock hit that place inside me that so few cocks are in my arse long enough to find and none but Kit had searched for, and my stones churned together and I yelled loud that I would seed, my cock untouched.

It did not so, for when I yelled, Kit did withdraw his cock and took mine in his mouth so that there I seeded, and he smiled at me, called me a beautiful boy, and went, once more to fucking me.

Seeded, I was but limp flesh under him, but he cared not and fucked me still, bringing life again to that which had gone limp and I wished for no more than to be fucked till dawn.

Indeed when dawn came I had Kit's cock in me, for it was with that he woke me, and never has boy been woken better.

So I became Kit's catamite, his boy, and I became his spy as well.

Ed, the boy I had bought for him and who now was mine, I trained to use his arse, and took great pleasure in that training, for, indeed, fucking a boy of ten is a wonder all men should know.

True, he screamed loud when first I entered him, as I had once screamed when first I took cock in my arse, but his screams worried me not and soon they passed. He screamed once more when Kit used him, for no man can turn from an arse of such years when it is given for use, but he was my boy as I was now Kit's, though it gave me much pleasure to watch Kit fuck him.

Kit found me lodging, not in the tavern, but in a barn close by where hay was stored, and when I could not be with Kit, fucked in his bed, the boy was fucked by me on our bed of hay.

I kept him clean and sold his arse only to men of some quality, and soon he was known and much used by those who cared not for lice with arse, and had the money to make it so.

The shilling I had paid for him he earned many times over and made good profit for me before he reached the age of ten. He pleased my cock much also, for I fucked him nightly in the hay when Kit had no need for me, and indeed, Kit was away often, though I knew not then why.

Being now half-way through my thirteen year my days as a Ganymede were drawing to a close, for few men wish for a boy as old as me when younger and tighter arse is in good supply. Fortunate I was that Ed earned good money and his arse kept us both in comfort greater than I had known before. Fortunate also, that Ed liked cock inside him as much as I and sold his arse willingly and was much sought after.

This I said to Kit when I saw him next, saying how fortunate it was that I did not, as yet, need to seek for sustenance in ways dangerous to my neck.

Kit told me then that he had work for me to do that had some small danger to my neck but greater danger to my throat, for that being cut was the price paid for being careless in that work.

I learned then, that though he had earned some fame with plays, his real service was to the Queen, and to Walsingham, and that was a name to be feared, for even in the Rookery all knew that no man could so much as fart without him knowing.

Thus it was that I became a spy.

It was a simple plan and one with much appeal. My enterprise with Ed had gone not un-noticed by Kit, and he proposed that I should add other boys, for boys may learn much from the men who fuck them, and anything they learned would go to Walsingham.

The barn in which I lived would hold a dozen boys with ease, and that Ganymedes should gather so together rouse no comment in any, and all I did need do was find boys and train them in the use of their ears as well as of their arses.

Such was a simple task, for all boys in the Rookery have ears as sharp as any bat, and all boys there know well enough that they cannot escape from cock unless they dance on the end of a rope, mistaken in a belief that cutting purses or stealing bread is a better life than bending over for cock.

I let it be known that I was in search of boys, and as all knew that Ed had prospered with his arse, boys found me without my searching.

Soon indeed, I obtained more boys, for Kit made money available to buy them for always there are boys in the Rookery for sale and families willing to sell them, and many also who have no families but will pledge their arses for a shilling or two. Though I let it be known I wanted boys of nine, for arse that age sells easy, and still not used by cock, I had no shortage.

Some I kept there in the Rookery, banded together and each looking out for the others, for though the trade of Ganymede has less danger that that of thief, throats are still cut from time to time.

Others I trained to use their mouths as well as their arses, and these were sent to labour as potboys in places of more quality where boys could be fucked in secret and in comfort. And these were safe indeed, for the great Walsingham himself ensured that they were so, for boys can learn many things from a man who has his cock in their arses.

The Ganymedes of the Rookery plied their trade at hangings, for boys can hear things there as well, and all came to me and from me to Kit, for he fucked me still and made much of my cock, though I am now past an age where boys are usually fucked.

That mattered not to Kit, for he kept me shaven smooth and found my cock to be a thing he wanted much, as my arse wanted always his cock, and what better place for a boy to pass on what he has learned than in a bed, his man's cock inside him?

Our business prospered, for always men want boys to fuck, and older boys I hired too, those not for their arses but for their fists and knives so Ganymedes knew they had some safety under my protection. That those older boys took also their pleasure in the arses of the Ganymedes was of no concern.

Much did those boys learn, though most seemed to me of no import, I knew well from Kit that many small things may make a larger picture, and Kit was pleased with what I had made. London teemed now with the ears of boys, and no man pays attention to the ears of a boy when it is arse that calls him.

 

Ed is now thirteen and I sixteen and we are in a skiff, rowing to a ship that waits for us, ready to sail to Holland.

A body lies in a street in Deptford and will be sworn by witnesses to be the body of Kit, sworn before the Queen's Coroner himself so none can doubt the truth of it.

Kit himself sits sadly in the skiff, for he must leave England now, never to return. There is only torture and death for him here now, for no spy can be safe forever. His sadness, I know, is much for me, the Ganymede he can never again fuck, though I have told him he must find boys in Holland, for I know Kit cannot live without boys and I have no wish for him to try.

I remain behind and must do what I can to live now. Money I have enough and London I should leave. The great Spymaster knows of me and that is danger in itself.

Too old now to be of use to any man as catamite and the only trade I know is that of selling the arses of boys. Perhaps I will stay awhile, I know not.

I have the streets of the city filled with boys who listen; I have still many who share the beds of men of substance and take their cocks inside them, pass their secrets to me.

Perchance the Spymaster will have use for me still.

If danger comes for me also, I will hear of it, and perhaps a body meant to be mine will be found in a street while I board a ship in the dark of night.

I have money enough to do so, but until that time comes there are secrets to be learned and boys to fuck. Aye, I learned well that the arse of a young boy is a pleasure that grows only greater the more it is indulged.

While I remain at liberty I must find more and new boys, train them well. The youngest and the newest learn the best secrets, though they fuck with more skill as they grow older.

There is a saying in the Rookery that a boy eats with his arse; there will be no shortage of boys.

And though there is danger in my trade, I like well the arses of boys.

 

Anybody like that little story? I hope someone did.

 

isukwell@hotmail.co.uk