Date: Fri, 4 Aug 2017 18:41:07 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Lion-King Chapter 3 Lion-King by badboi666 =============================================================================== If you haven't read "Fourteen Again" here you really ought to read it before starting "Lion-King", which is both a prequel and a sequel. You will meet men and boys here to whom you have been introduced in "Fourteen Again". You'll meet some new ones too, so there will be fresh flesh to read about. 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. We need to establish a few things first, however, so there isn't much activity in the first few chapters. But there will be - oh yes, there will be plenty. 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 3 When I woke on the morning of my 88th birthday there was a tiny fairy perched at the end of my bed. "Happy birthday," she said, "I have a wish for you." "Anything I want?" I asked, "even if it's impossible?" "Of course, that's how 88th birthday wishes work. Tell me what you want and I'll tell you what you'll have to pay to have your wish granted. Mind you," she added, "they don't work the same way as on a 70th birthday." Was this the JR-it's-all-just-been-a-dream moment? Was there really a fairy there? There was only one way to find out. I thought carefully, very very carefully. What I said now, assuming my wish were to be granted, would be critical. "What I would like would be to spend 31 August again, going right back 60 years. Could you arrange that?" "Of course," she said, "I'll come back in 11 days time, and you can start then. It's easier that way as these things really only work on the right day. I think you know that though," and she smiled, "I'll tell you all the details when I see you again," and she vanished. I could have put the whole thing down to emotional exhaustion: it had been an extremely stressful three weeks. Had it not been for my having read about Jack's similar experience I might even have thought I really was dreaming. But I had read about Jack, and the fairy had indeed seemed very real. I had 11 days to do everything I need to do, because if Jack's experience had taught me anything it was that I wouldn't be coming back to the village. Jack had aged a year for every day he'd been back in 1957; I was asking for 60 days and the tariff would take me well past death in 2017 or whenever. I had to sell up and draw a line under my life here. I went to see our lawyer and explained that I wanted him to handle Lion's Estate without involving me. He wasn't too happy at first, but when I told him that I was putting the house on the market immediately and going abroad he had little option. Lion had left everything to me, and my Will left everything to various charities, so that was straightforward enough. I told him that I'd be leaving the country at the end of the month, so he had 10 days to deal with anything that needed my input. In the end I gave most of our gay stuff to Jason and the rest of the furniture, books, pictures and so on to various friends in the village. People were a bit mystified by my giving everything away, but when I said I was going abroad they seemed to accept it. By the evening of 30 August all I still had in the house was our bed - I couldn't bring myself to part with that - and personal stuff I was expecting to take with me. Having read about Jack's failure to think ahead about taking certain useful items with him into the past I wasn't going to make that mistake. Everything went into a small holdall. The next morning there was the fairy. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she said, "we have to ask." "We?" I said. "Oh yes, it's not just me, you know. There are several of us, but I do Europe. I will take you back to 31 August every second year, two years at a time. You'll have 24 hours each year. You can come back any time you want, and I'll give you a piece of paper, just as I gave Jack a month ago - you know about that, I assume?" (I nodded) "and if you decide not to come back - well, you know what will happen." I nodded again: this was the bargain I'd expected. I was content. I had three ambitions in the 60 years I was about to revisit. "Before you go," she said, "there are several conditions. Jack was planning to be a boy again, and the rules for boys are different. The rules for men are harder. You will probably want to see people you saw in real life at the time. That's fine, but they won't be aware of you. They'll only see the King that was alive then, and not the King that's returning. You'll see yourself, but you won't be able to make the real King do anything different, or anyone else you actually saw the first time. Anyone you didn't see will be fine: you can talk to them and they will think you're real. Do you understand?" This took some swallowing. One of the three things was to find out how Jack - not our Jack, the other one - and Zak and Robin and the other boys had fared: were they happy in life? The fairy's restriction would make no difference to that. The first ambition was to have a lot more sex with the various houseboys, but that looked off limits. I asked the fairy about this aspect. "Oh, that'll be fine," she said, "I only do Europe. In Africa the rules don't apply. You can just be yourself. Leo and the boys will be just as real as they ever were." That was all right then. I could work out how to deal with the third ambition in my own good time. I smiled: it was pleasing that the fairy was quite uncensorious about my sinful desires. "Yes, please." The fairy waved her wand and ... ... Leo and I were in the flat. He was still Leo then, of course. We'd been there for three weeks and we'd be there another week. It was early morning and the three of us were in bed. Hassan lay between us, his slim brown body as enticing this morning as it had been for the last three weeks. He was 14. Hassan was the youngest of a family of five brothers. Five gorgeous sexy brothers, and over the last 12 years we'd fucked all of them. (You'll hear about the older brothers as I continue this strange journey back to 1957.) He'd been with us since a couple of years ago when he was just 12, and since the oldest brother had been our houseboy that first time in 2003, our employing a succession of brothers had become a big source of the large family's income. There were sisters too, but we never employed any of them of course. We had met the father that first year, but that's a story for then - we'll get there, I promise. It's really quite disconcerting, living one's life backwards, so to speak. Today, like all days, was 31 August. It was 2015. It was around 6 a.m. and, as I said, Hassan was lying still asleep between us. He was slim and hairless. Like all Tangier boys his cock was cut. Like all Tangier boys, or at least all the ones we'd encountered, he was sexually mature, and like 14-year-old boys everywhere he was very horny and full of stamina. Even if Leo and I had been 60 years younger Hassan would have worn us out. As it was we didn't tax him as much as we'd have liked to. This was the third year he'd been our houseboy. As he was the youngest brother we'd have to look elsewhere in 2016. At my age I found it well-nigh impossible to fuck boys any more, but as we progress backwards you'll learn that my performance in that direction will improve. Nowadays my pleasure in boys, apart from just gazing at their beauty, admiring their capacity for provoking and slaking lust, was obtained by the use of the mouth - mine and theirs. All my life I've loved the feel of a boy's cock in my mouth and the erotic sensation of its pulsing its honeyed load of treasure into my mouth. The utter abandon of a young teenager as he succumbs to the orgasm as it overcomes him is a delight every time it happens. The first time, of course, he lasts only a few seconds, but once you and the boy have done it together a few times both of you have adjusted to allow a more prolonged, and much more satisfying, cum - cums, if you're both really good at it. It's just as well that Leo, being so much younger than I am, is still capable of fucking, otherwise the queue of boys keen to act as houseboy to the English men would probably be much shorter. Between us we cover both ends, and that's how it will for a good few years to come. That's 'to come' in the direction of this story. I'll get used to it soon. Hassan loves being fucked - what 14-year-old doesn't - and he loves being sucked off. My guess is that his brothers have handed down tales of what the English men like to do, and as he develops enough to be interesting to us, each brother has looked forward to his month of ecstasy each summer. The houseboy's duties haven't changed much over the years. He has to keep the flat clean, deal with the local tradesmen and do odd bits of shopping. Leo is the cook in Tangier (I cook at home) and he insists of buying the food. Our Arabic is pretty good after all these years, and since none of the boys has more than very basic English all our dealings in Tangier are in Arabic. Apart from all that, his duties extend to whatever sex he and we feel like, and that is usually a great deal. He wears a dishdash with nothing underneath, which does nothing to conceal his rampant cock - that's how we like it, and after a couple of days that's generally how he likes it too. Even when it's soft you can see where his cock and his balls are as he moves around the flat. Didn't I say - Hassan is blessed in the cock department (as am I). I'm 9 inches erect and Hassan is 7, which on a skinny 14-year-old looks a lot bigger. We might as well complete the biological details. Leo's cock is uncut (like mine) and is 6 inches, but satisfyingly thick; in fact his is one of the thickest cocks it has been my pleasure to accommodate. As I've only been awake here in this bed in 2015 for 20 minutes or so I have no idea what Leo and I have already done with Hassan since we went to bed yesterday, but I imagine we've given him two or three orgasms at least. That's why he's still asleep. It's time for breakfast though. I bend down and lick his soft cock, lying gently against his brown thigh. It stirs. I lick it again: it stirs again and rises a little from his thigh. Very gently I use two fingers to lift it away from his thigh and place my lips round it, licking his glans round just behind the flare. It's now well on the way to being erect and Hassan is well aware of what's happening - after all, it's what happens every morning. I feel his hands caressing my head as I bob on his cock. I hear his soft moaning as his balls start their morning exercise. Hassan likes having his arse held while he cums and his moans have reached the stage when I must move. He lifts his hips off the bed - this has the effect of getting more of his cock into my mouth as well as allowing my hands to reach under him and cup his smooth firm cheeks. I pull them apart - this is what he really likes - and pull him deeper into me. I'm licking all over his cock and he's fucking my mouth and he's moaning all the time and now he's spurting spurting spurting as only a teenager can. I rejoice in a boy for the millionth time, letting his spunk coat the taste-sensitive membranes in my mouth before swallowing. A boy's cum is like a fine wine: it has to be savoured, not swigged. Breakfast has been served. Hassan gives me a quick kiss, just to make sure that nothing has been spilled, rolls over me, leans over to give my cock a quick kiss, stands up, stretches, goes to the bathroom to piss, farts noisily, comes back, climbs into his dishdash and goes off to the kitchen to make Leo's breakfast. Another hot day in Tangier has begun. Nowadays we don't do a great deal during the day - it's far too hot. We have a good deal of shade on the balcony, however, and we spend most of the day there, reading or dozing. The balcony isn't overlooked, so if we feel like we can indulge our sexual desires freely. ***** It's nearly 11 o'clock and I expect to be whisked back to 2013 in an hour or so. This is the best time to sit and write an account of what happened today. I'm going to have to get into a routine, I think. Stop whatever I'm doing at around 11, write what has to be written, go to bed before midnight, and wake up again two years ago. Today was like most of the days here nowadays. Years ago we were much more active - you'll hear about that in due course - but now the days didn't vary. I always sucked Hassan off first thing. Then he got up, as I've described, made breakfast for Leo (all I have apart from the cream I've already enjoyed is black coffee), spent maybe 20 minutes sweeping and tidying - not that there's much to tidy. The bed gets pretty rumpled, but not much else. By 10 Leo's out in the souk getting whatever fresh stuff he fancies cooking today. By 11 all three of us are back here with nothing to do for the rest of the day apart from prepare and eat meals, and fuck. Or in my case, suck. I said earlier that I found it hard to fuck boys. Hard, but not impossible. Hassan has worked out, guided, I have to say, by the English men, that if he lowers himself aboard, as it were, and does the work, the whole experience is pleasurable for all concerned. It's not something I can do every day, or even every week, but occasionally it works, and today was one such day. Now that he's been with us for a third year his arse is accustomed to great length (me) and great width (Leo). I'm not sure which he prefers, because he's a very polite boy who squirms and moans (and cries out) with equal joy whether he's being stretched this way or that. Leo and I are spectators as well, of course, usually offering a helping hand now and again. Not always just a hand though. Anyway, as I say, today Hassan and I managed it. After our lunch has been cleared away the three of us retire to bed for a siesta. Hassan always lies between us and stroking takes place. Often this is a prelude to sleep, but today the lust monkeys were active. Leo was unusually sprightly - maybe he'd sprinkled something extra on the lunch - and when Hassan put his hand down to stroke Leo he gave a little cry of pleasure. He looked down and saw that Leo was stiff; he looked at Leo's face and saw that Leo was eager; he got onto all fours - that's how Leo likes to fuck - from behind. Hassan, like all our boys, knows to keep himself well-lubricated. After the usual preliminaries Leo was in there. Hassan likes it in hard and fast; so does Leo. They are a well-suited couple in that regard. I'm lying back, watching. It's a performance I must have seen thousands of times before, with hundreds of boys, but it never palls. 14-year-old skin glows in a magical way when the arse inside the skin is being ploughed. One of the advantages - and there aren't too many - of being 83 is that you don't come too quickly. Leo fucked Hassan for a good 15 minutes, the boy moaning and sighing while his arse was being pounded. Because we'd been here many times I knew that he was up on Cloud Nine. His cock was like a nail, but whereas I usually stroked it and wanked it (I couldn't bend enough to suck it, not in this position) today something restrained me. Leo accelerated as Hassan started to cry out each time Leo was right in: this was the usual signal that the end was nigh. Leo reached his orgasm; he doesn't produce spunk any more, but the feeling's just as intense. Usually the two of them just collapse onto the bed, but Hassan hasn't come yet - and that is decidedly unusual. His eyes focus on my cock - hot and hard and 9 inches of promise for a boy who needs it up him in order to come. I laid back and stretched out, my cock like a flagpole. Hassan climbed on, squatting over me - facing, of course: I like to see what I'm doing - and lasciviously lowered himself on. He teased me - both of us - by rising and falling, each time getting more of my cock into his red hot arse. After a couple of minutes he'd had enough of teasing: now he wanted fucking, and fucking deep, hard and fast. He was doing the work, and it took only three or four minutes for me to cum up his arse. He knows the feeling my cock produces inside him when I cum - he's described it to me often enough when he's lying in my arms afterwards - and I was glad that I was giving him that feeling again. It was a dry cum, of course, like Leo's, but that didn't bother Hassan. What he needed was the deep sensation of penetration, and the waves of delight that his own prostate could give him when it was put under pressure. Half a minute after my cum had subsided he got off and knelt over me, his cock in my mouth again. Leo was at his arse - that's the orifice he likes best - and what with my tongue on his red hot cock and Leo's tongue up his red hot arse little Hassan exploded. Two hours later we disentangled ourselves and it was cool enough to go onto the balcony where Leo and I drank glasses of local white wine. Hassan, being a good Muslim, eschews such wickedness, but he likes to join us (and we welcome his company!) in a glass of lemon. The sun starts to set and it's time for the evening meal. Leo goes to the kitchen. Hassan and I always enjoy this time of day. I lie back in the big recliner and he lies on top of me like a big cat, purring contentedly. I feel his warm body against mine - he's in his dishdash and I'm in a thin cotton wrap. I can reach up under his dishdash and caress his arse; he can reach into my wrap and put his hands on my cock. These things are possible, and often happen while Leo is happy in the kitchen, but today we have already excelled ourselves. Rest, and human communion, is all that's needed. Don't think that Leo is excluded - he has his own moments of intimacy with the succession of Hassans. The three of us, each in his own way, are entirely content. Each day is taken as it comes. It's five to twelve. I must get to bed. =============================================================================== To be continued ...