Date: Mon, 4 Sep 2017 16:20:27 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Lion-King Chapter 18 Lion-King by badboi666 =============================================================================== 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 fresh young lads then make yourself comfortable - you're in the right place. Don't leave, however, without doing this: Donate to Nifty - these buggers may do it for love but they still have to eat. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html =============================================================================== Chapter 18 Leo introduced me to a wide range of things after we met, and he probably thought the same about me. Until then I'd had no interest in opera, or indeed in classical music, but he persuaded me that what I was really saying was 'I didn't know any' rather than 'I didn't like it'. I'm so glad that he did, because he opened my ears to a huge amount of enjoyment, and if you're an opera fan you'll agree that as well as opening my ears, he opened my soul. Today it's 31 August 1975 and we have two tickets for a performance of 'Der Rosenkavalier' at the San Francisco Opera. We flew here a few days ago at the start of a hedonistic tour of the queer - though I must call them 'gay' now we're in the New World - fleshpots of California. According to Leo these are plentiful. He's bought a copy of the Spartacus Gay Guide, which has started three or four years ago, and together we'd planned an itinerary. We were adamant that we'd stick to our mutual vow of fidelity: fidelity, that is, to each other except with a boy of 17 or less. We reckoned we'd find plenty to amuse us without breaking any promises. We went to a gay bar yesterday to pick up leaflets and fliers for events and what they tactfully called 'places of interest'. They would better have been described as places of specialist interest. Few gay practices went uncatered-for, and unadvertised. Most were not on our list of things to do, but they certainly featured in our long list of things to be astonished by. Remember this is 1975, and the gay world was still in nappies. Nappies were not a feature of San Francisco gay culture, although there were two places where, on certain nights of the week, diapers were de rigeur. As you know, piss isn't on Leo's bucket list, so although I like a wet session in the tight company what I like is hot fresh piss. Wearing a nappy isn't exciting to me. So Diaper Heaven got a miss. As did Miss Whippy's Torture Chamber. Or it did until Leo spotted, in small print at the bottom, the enticing news that voyeurs were welcome - 'no participation required' - to spend an hour for $25. "That might be fun," he said, "see how the other half loves." By 3 o'clock we had paid our $25 each and were shown through a small door off to one side. A nice boy, wearing only a leather jock, really did say "Hi guys! I'm Darren and I'll be your host today. You'll be able to see and hear everything, but you'll not be allowed beyond the rope. If there's anything you would like" (and he emphasised the 'anything') "I want you to tell me. Some things are extra, but quite a lot of things are thrown in for nothing." To underline the 'anything-ness' he groped his jock for us. He pointed to a notice on the wall. It read: You may remove as much of your clothing as you wish - all of it if you choose Clothes lockers require 50c to activate You may touch your Host in any way you and he choose You may masturbate yourself or anyone in your party without charge (Kleenex provided free) You may masturbate your Host - $5 You may ask your Host to masturbate you - $5 Oral sex is permitted between Guests without charge Oral sex upon your Host is permitted - $15 Oral sex by your Host is permitted - $25 Anal sex is NOT permitted: please respect the decision of Management Passing water is permitted with the agreement of your Host All major Credit Cards are accepted Have a nice day! Leo snorted. "How to make something nice and sinful seem so hedged about with bloody rules!" he muttered. "Ssh!" I said, "we don't want to piss Darren off. He has to work here." "Let's strip off - do you have a couple of quarters?" I said. Luckily Leo had two quarters, so our clothes were soon in the locker, apart from our shoes and socks. We weren't 100% convinced that previous patrons would have used the Kleenex efficiently in the dark. Darren had waited patiently while all this was going on. "Don't worry about the charges," he said brightly, "part of a Host's job is to keep Guests happy; and part of it is keeping a tab of what Guests incur. You pay when you leave. Now then," he smiled, the formalities being concluded, "what's it to be, guys?" Leo and I exchanged a look which conveyed much. "Let's see what's happening, and take things as they come," he said. Darren led us out of the little changing area into the big room where the action was taking place. It was rather like a large version of one of my conversions, except that a narrow platform, on which we were standing, ran round three sides of the room. The fourth side had wall-bars and rings. There were seven naked men in there. One was tied by the ankles and wrists to the wall-bars in an X-shape. He looked uncomfortably stretched - but in Miss Whippy's Torture Chamber that was hardly to be a surprise. His back and buttocks were alarmingly criss-crossed with angry red weals. No-one was paying any attention to him. Two men were suspended. One was in a sling in the normal way, his ankles and wrists in cuffs and his arse - hairy and not to my taste at all - was being fisted all the way up to the elbow by a very large black man wearing only a large leather apron. As we neared the black guy noticed us and grinned as he took his arm out. The guy in the sling's arse wasn't as damaged as I'd feared, but it remained loose and wide open. The black guy turned to us and raised both arms together above his head, a bit like somebody preparing to dive. Darren whispered "He wants to know if you would like him to put both arms in." "Tell him Yes," I said, "I want to see this." I'd been to some wild biker sessions BL, but I'd never seen anyone fisted by two arms the size this guy had. Darren conveyed the message in an unsubtle way. "Give him both barrels, Dwayne." Dwayne turned and made a great show of greasing himself and the arse which was to receive his bounty. The owner of the arse, whom we now saw to be wearing a full face mask, grunted something like "thamps guys" (so maybe a ball gag as well?). I reached for Leo's hand. It was 50-50 whether Dwayne would enter gradually, teasing his audience and perhaps stimulating them to sexual activity, and thus to extra payment, or whether he ... By the time I had formulated this thought Dwayne stood at the gates and rammed both hands in, all the way to his wrists. A cry escaped from the fistee; a cry which slowly turned to a shriek as Dwayne's arms just went further and further in. Darren sought to reassure us. "Don't worry, guys, he loves it. They do this three times a day." This rather took the edge off the excitement. It was a bit like being a child at the circus: will the trapeze artist fall and die in front of me? Ghoulish, but thrilling. Here it was: will the poor fucker's arse rip open and his guts fall out? I felt across - Leo's cock, like mine, was still flaccid. The other guy hanging from the ceiling was in a harness which held him facing downwards from straps at his shoulders and upper thighs. It must have been horribly uncomfortable for any length of time. What made it eye-watering was the weight hanging from a strap tightly attached behind his balls. His cock was unfettered, but the weight was pulling his balls to an obscene length below his body - almost a foot. Every few minutes one of the other men came up to him and kicked the weight, making it swing hard. This pulled his balls and must have been agonizing. "He likes that?" I said to Darren. "Oh yes, he'll be there for about three hours. He likes to come, but he pays us not to let him. Look at his cock." We were only about three feet away, and by peering closely we could see some kind of metal plug round his cock head with a bit going into his piss slit. "There's a steel ball on the end of that about the size of a bean going into his cock," he explained, "and he can't come or pass water." I stifled a laugh: the juxtaposition of a description of the guy's 'cock' and the twee 'pass water' was so deliciously Californian. Darren asked if we would like to 'pass water' on him - pointing to the guy in the harness. I was happy to do so, knowing it would probably add to the guy's torture, for which he was presumably paying handsomely. Darren generously informed me that the first such passing would be, as he put it 'on the house, and on Cody'. I moved as close as I could and watered Cody, whose muffled groan was probably one of delight. Leo declined. Still not a vestige of an erection from either of us, or, as I discovered using a free feel, from Darren. He'd seen it all before. Leo whispered in my ear, "Let's get out of here. It's horrible." I had to agree. We told Darren that we'd seen enough, and he seemed disappointed. I thought it only tactful to offer him an explanation for our sudden departure. "My partner desperately needs me to fuck him, and I see that's not allowed. We'll have to find a quiet corner in the Park," I said. Collecting our clothes we dressed and made a quick exit. Darren followed us. "Come again soon," he said, sticking to a woefully inappropriate script. The daylight was welcome after Mr W's establishment. Leo said, "thank God we're only queer, and not abnormal like those poor sods." I suggested that he was being just a touch judgemental - after all, some of the guys being tortured in there probably thought that fucking 14-year-olds wasn't within their idea of 'normal'. "More fool they," sniffed Leo in the superior way I love so much. "Anyway, where do we find a 14-year-old in this place?" Spartacus had been of no use in this context: if anything it had been rather against any idea of condoning under-age liaisons. None of the leaflets we'd picked up suggested fruits of the forbidden kind that we sought, although there was presumably plenty of it around for harvesting. In London you went to Piccadilly Circus to pick up boys: where on earth did you go in San Francisco. Leo said suddenly, "Playland." "What do you mean?" I said. "Playland in New York - 7th Avenue or somewhere. Boys hang out playing pin-ball machines apparently. It's like Piccadilly but indoors. I wonder if there's a place like that here." Our Sparatcus map showed where the gay area was - we were close to the middle of it, so if we wandered about for half an hour and saw an amusement arcade it might well be Playland-on-the-Pacific. It was worth a try. It wasn't 4 yet and the opera didn't kick off until 6.30. By 4.20 we were outside a promising place. From across the street we noticed men going in and out, quite often with a boy a tactfully, if blindingly obviously, ten feet behind. "This is it," I said. We went in. It took a few minutes to become accustomed to the suitably dim lighting. There were maybe 30 pin-ball machines of varying degrees of light-flashing complexity. Most had a boy playing, sometimes with a couple of others offering encouragement. Around three-quarters of the machines had an older male 'assisting'. While we watched we observed that 'assistance' generally fell into one of two categories. The first was the ready provision of more quarters with which to feed the machine's insatiable appetite. The second, usually leading from the first, was the application of the man's hand to the player's cock, an action which, while doing nothing for the player's concentration, fed the player's (and the man's) insatiable appetite. Some appetites, however, and these were among them, could easily be satiated. A procession of men, willing to perform such acts of satiation as the as-yet-unsatiated boys might wish, left the premises, bound we knew not where. Leo, as I've remarked before, can be awfully common sometimes. "I fancy a fuck," he said. "Don't you always, love," I said quietly. "No, look, what about that one," he said, pointing to a boy playing a machine in the corner, watched by another boy. We walked over: there was no point in subtlety here. You don't go into a butcher's shop to discuss the weather, hoping the conversation will lead to the mention of sausages. So it was here. We stopped to watch. A quick glance from the boys. Two smiles from us, one to each boy. An exchange of looks between the boys. An imperceptible nod (we had passed whatever muster was needed). The spectating boy fished a card from his pocket and put it in my hand. They like their notices, these Americans. It read: Wank me - $5 I wank you - $5 Suck my cock - $8 I suck your cock - $12 Cum in my mouth - $5 extra Fuck me - $20 Cum up my ass - $5 extra Same for my brother Both of us - 25% discount This was the entrepreneurial spirit which had made America great. It was 4.30. We had to get to our hotel, change (including washing off any lingering odours - sorry, odors - which might remain after our afternoon's exertions, and get to the opera by 6.15. I did a quick calculation. "Leo, we've got 40 minutes. What do you think?" He didn't miss a beat. "We'll fuck you both and cum up your pretty little asses." "How do you know they're pretty?" "All boys' asses are pretty, or hadn't you noticed?" I said. The card was back in its owner's pocket. "Follow me. Don't make it obvious though. Make it 40 feet behind," and he was off through a door in the back, followed immediately by 'my brother' and, obediently 40 feet behind, Leo and me. We were in a dark corridor so I took the opportunity to check on Leo. A fine erection! None of this torture torture. Out into a narrow alley behind the arcade; 100 yards along through a little gate; across a weed-strewn yard; up a rickety iron fire escape; through a door on the second floor; along a short corridor (we'd reduced the 40 feet to about 2 feet by this time, or we'd have got lost); through a door straight into a bedroom with two big king-size beds and not much else. A couple of chairs for clothes, a night-stand for lube and Kleenex. "You talk funny," said the older boy. "You got it," I said, "we're aliens from another planet. When we get our clothes off you'll see that we have two cocks - one for fucking and the other one, much longer, for boys to suck while we fuck them." He laughed. "I like you," he said, "you're not like most johns." This was gratifying to hear. "I'm Rex," I said, "and this is Leo." "I'm Jeff," said the talkative one, "and my brother is Ronnie. I'm 14 and he's 12. But don't be fooled. He's been fucking since he was 9." We were, it seemed in the company of a skilled professional team. "OK," I said, "let's get on with it. We'll give you $50 to fuck you both and cum inside you. Forget the discount, and we'll just fuck you with one of our cocks." Ronnie laughed. "I like you," he said, "will you fuck me?" "Well now," said Leo, "I think you should wait until we've got our clothes off. Rex's cock is long and mine's thick. You guys should choose." Two minutes later all four of us were naked, and all four of us were studying the genitalia of the other generation. Rex 46, Leo 43, Jeff 14 and Ronnie 12. Four cocks, two foreskins (these Americans are so fucking stupid), four sets of hormones. Ronnie reached out to touch mine. "Wow!" he said (always nice to hear) "I don't think I can take all that." "What about this then?" said Leo. "Yummy!" was the reply he received, followed instantly by a mouth anxious to verify the yumminess. "We haven't paid to be sucked off," he said, although the protest carried little conviction. "Oh, he's not sucking you off, " explained Jeff, "that's him applying lube. He prefers it that way." I turned my attention, and my cock, to Jeff. "Well, what about you, Jeff, can you get that up yo' pretty li'l ass?" "You still haven't checked it's pretty, Rex, why don't you do that now. There's no charge for you lubing me if you want to use spit." "Even if I apply the spit with my tongue?" Jeff grinned. "I might even give you a discount." A boy after my own part. We had only half an hour, but it was half an hour well spent. Each boy was sensible enough to have douched after his last client (an day earlier? an hour?) so that his arse (I'm not speaking American to you - it's too trying) was soft and clean and, as I soon discovered, flavoured only with natural boy flavours. A bit of sweat, a trace of arse-juice, maybe the faintest hint that wiping hadn't been perfect: all aromas to keep a 46-year-old cock at full and insistent mast. I licked his arse for a good ten minutes - I wanted him panting for penetration. I didn't care how often he'd been fucked before, quite possibly by cocks bigger than mine, but I wanted to give him a fuck that he'd enjoy, and maybe even remember in a forest of fucks. I was therefore pleased when after ten minutes he murmured, "Rex, that's great - no-one's rimmed me that long - but fer Crissake fuck me with that thing of yours." By this time Leo was well in, so I decided to do as Jeff was asking. Sometimes I like to stick it in hard and fast, but it crossed my mind that a hooker probably got fucked like that all too often. A long gentle penetration might be nicer for him - doggy-fashion. "Here it comes, Jeff," I said, "nice and slow." The fist couple on inches told me that he would easily accept the whole thing. I like fucking a tight arse, but this boy's was like a cathedral. Poor kid, I thought, he's missing so much because he's taken far too much far too young. Still, I could at least try to touch the sides. I pulled out and entered again facing him - that way I could maybe get some action on his prostate. "That's better," he said, "I can frig around with my button." "How about I do that?" I said, "I can get a finger in there." "OK." I slowly pushed all nine inches in. It was nice to see Jeff's eyes gradually open wider as inches seven, eight and nine were slowly swallowed up. "Hey, man, you're some fucker," he breathed. I reached forward with my right index finger (well licked first, I'm a gentleman) and inserted it into his arse the near side of my cock. He gasped at the extra width. This is what poor Ronnie is having to endure, I thought. (Poor Ronnie sounded as though he was enjoying it, as did Leo.) I pushed my cock in as far as I could (Jeff's eyes opened even wider, as did his arse) and tweaked my finger in search of his prostate. "Aaah! that's it," he cried, "now hard, man, give me all you got." Speed was what he wanted, and speed was what I gave him. Prostates respond well to gentle teasing strokes, but they also respond well to be rubbed hard. My finger scrabbled over his prostate while I fucked him as hard as I could, pulling almost all the way out and slamming in again. I didn't last long. After three minutes he was crying out (in lust, not in pain, I hasten to tell you) every time I slammed in, and groaning 'yesss yesss' in between such thrusts. A constant source of sounds, this boy. Time to unload. One big final push and one, two, three ... four ....... five big spurts of alien spunk into this brave boy. "Oh fuck," he sighed, "you're good." I was interested to see that, although his cock was as hard as a nail, he hadn't cum. "D'you want me to finish you off?" "Yeah. Suck me. I'll do it for nothin." His cock was hot and as I rolled the mutilated head in my mouth he gasped. He'd only been about 10 seconds away. His spunk flooded me. "Kiss me," he said, " I like my jizz." Leo and Ronnie had finished by this time. I didn't see what they had got up to, but both seemed very happy with the outcome. We dressed and stood up to go. "Thanks, boys. Here's $100. We'll come back for more tomorrow, OK?" said Leo. Jeff grinned. "Yeah, and tomorrow I'm havin the thick one. Poor old Ronnie's got to learn some time." Poor old Ronnie looked far - very far - from being troubled by this prospect. "See you tomorrow then, aliens. Pity about your second cocks though," he said. They led us out into the street before returning to their hunting ground. The opera was great. Leo explained to me that before the curtain went up the older woman was being fucked by a boy of about 17. The fact that the boy was being sung by a woman, and would later disguise himself as a serving girl, all rather confused me. "Just enjoy the music," said Leo, "all opera plots are daft. What you will enjoy is the only fuck in opera, as it happens." "What do you mean? Isn't it before the curtain goes up." "Just listen. There's a nice build up of tension, then about 40 seconds in the French horns go whoop! whoop! whoop! whoop! That's the boy coming. Four fine spurts, as you would put it. Then the tension eases, then it's all sleepy and cuddly." "Just like us." "Exactly like us, Rex, but we last a whole lot longer." I've learned to love Rosenkavalier, and have heard many productions with Leo. I still think it's the best description of a boy coming that I know. And after our fun that afternoon it seemed the ideal end to the day. =============================================================================== badboi666@btinternet.com is where you should send comments and suggestions