Date: Fri, 11 Aug 2017 15:32:32 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Lion-King Chapter 6 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. You'll discover some Arabic on the way. You could Google to get translations, but the meaning is usually pretty clear, and the English words are used as well. 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 6 31 August 2009 - a memorable day in a memorable month in Tangier. Zeb's been with us for three weeks now, and Leo and I have been astonished at the boy's sexuality. He's far more adventurous than any of his brothers have been, so it's hard to know quite where his horizons became expanded. We've done our bit, of course, but as often as not in the last few weeks it's been Zeb who initiates things. And not just initiating things, some of the things themselves have been an eye-opener. I'll tell you about this afternoon in a minute. The day started as it usually does. Leo went out to the souk after his breakfast (I'd had mine in bed) and Zeb spent the necessary 15 minutes sweeping and tidying. I was on the balcony in my wrap reading when he came quietly out with two glasses of lemon juice. He gave me mine and squatted on his heels beside me. I opened my arms to encourage him to come and lie in my lap, but he shook his head. He wanted to have a serious conversation, and this is his way of showing that, for the time being at least, he's a man with man things to say, not a 12-year-old boy purring with orgasmic delight. I put on my serious face too. "Well, Zeb, what is it you need to discuss?" (They like discussing, boys, it's a grown-up thing to do.) Zeb told me that he had been storing the money we'd given him each day in a jar in the kitchen. (We'd been in the habit of giving our boys about £10 a day for spending on themselves, and his older brothers had not involved us in how they spent it.) "Yes," I said, "that's very wise, Zeb." He paused. "Rex, my English is not very good" (this conversation, like most, was in Arabic) "and I want to learn better." "Zeb, your English is very good for a boy of 12 - it's much better than other boys." He dismissed his brothers as being useful for comparison purposes: he was comparing himself to his teachers. "Do you want to have lessons to make your English better?" "Yes, Rex. I will save the money you and Leo give me and when you go back to England I will buy lessons and next year when you come back - you will come back, won't you? - I will be better." I smiled. "Yes, Zeb, we will come back, and I'm sure you will have better English. That's a wise thing to do." I paused, wondering why he was telling me this. Then he went on. "I have a friend at school. He is 12 also and his English is" - and here he broke into English with a wicked grin - "fucking awful bad." It turned out that Zeb wanted to spend some of his money on getting English lessons for this boy as well. Our grown-up discussion continued for some time. By the time Leo got back from the souk I had a clear picture of the position. We sat down on the balcony and discussed it in English so that Zeb wouldn't pick up much of what we were saying. I explained about the friend with the less than perfect command of English. Leo loved Zeb's description. "Zeb obviously likes this boy or he wouldn't think of spending his own money. Should we cough up a bit, do you think? Maybe £10 a day for this other boy?" Leo thought this a bad idea. "I don't mind helping Zeb to help his friend - that will show Zeb we care about his welfare as well as his arse, and I don't mind giving Zeb money so he can do that. I don't think we ought to give this other boy anything though." I had to agree. "What shall we say?" I said. "Tell him we'll give him some money. Zeb's being very Arab and man-to-man about this, so ask him how much he needs. He'll respect that." I called Zeb back and the three of us sat formally at the kitchen table. I told Zeb what we had decided and asked him what plans he had for English lessons. He'd done a pretty good job, actually, and had made an arrangement with the teacher at the school to have extra lessons. They would cost £2 for three hours. He had no idea how many hours would be needed. "The teacher will know when I'm good," he said simply. We agreed that we would give him £40 for his friend's lessons and an extra £40 for himself. "We want to show that we respect you as a man for doing this for your friend," I said, rather more formally than my usual way with Zeb. Zeb rather spoilt the grown-up bit then by leaping on me, kissing my neck and weeping with joy. He quickly remembered he was, albeit briefly, being a man. "Thank you, Rex and Leo" (in English; then in Arabic) "I will bring my friend this afternoon. You will meet him and he will thank you. He is like me, and he knows how to thank men." He kissed us both and disappeared. This was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Leo caught my eye and we both grinned. And that is why today was memorable. Zeb was back after a short time, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He prepared lunch and we sat with a glass of wine each afterwards, watching him move about the kitchen, clearing up. His dishdash - nothing underneath. of course - did nothing to conceal the slim elegance of his body. Even though he was only 12 there was not an ounce of puppy-fat on him. When all was neat and tidy he said that he would now go and bring Ali to us. Leo and I exchanged glances, each of us wondering what Ali would be bringing to the party. What we didn't know was that the mystery person who had expanded Zeb's sexual horizons was about to spend the afternoon with us, along with his prize pupil. Zeb was back, bringing with him a boy who could have been his twin. "This is Ali," he said proudly, almost as if he had conjured Ali from a magician's hat. Ali grinned at us both - a wide smile, beautiful white teeth unstained by the khat which so spoiled adult mouths, dark dark eyes feet deep with barely-concealed wickedness. Zeb nudged his friend, and Ali said that he was very happy to be with Zeb's friends. At the second nudge he remembered to thank us for our great kindness to him. We had honoured his family by bringing learning to him. Zeb relaxed: the formalities had been attended to. Ali relaxed too: Zeb wasn't nudging him any more. Zeb took the initiative: this was his party. "Now we thank you properly," he announced. He made eye contact with Ali and you could almost see them thinking 'three, two, one ... ' before at the same instant they both took off their dishdash. Now they were no longer twins. Zeb, at 12, had a nice slim cock, hairless naturally, which when it was at rest reached about 3 inches. Stiff it was about 5. Ali's was markedly different. At rest, as it was now, it was about 6. Soon - very very soon - it would extend to 7 inches. 7 inches of proud Arab boy; 7 inches perched on top of the juiciest pair of balls I'd seen on any boy that age; 7 inches which would be put to an interesting variety of uses this afternoon. (7 inches, Zeb told us after Ali had gone home, that had been his - Zeb's - companions for three years now, ever since there had only been 4.) During Zeb's brief absence before lunch he had clearly given Ali detailed instructions about what he should do, because each boy now approached us - Zeb with Leo and Ali with me - and, taking us by the hand, led us into the bedroom. There we were relieved of our clothes (folded neatly - they were well-mannered boys) and led to the bed. Leo was lying at his side of the bed, and I on mine. The boys climbed on board, 'sixynining' as Zeb would put it. Ali was some cocksucker, managing to get pretty well all of me into his throat. I wondered who had taught him that skill. I had his cock in my mouth and when I took it out and ran my tongue over his balls he moaned and indicated that his arsehole would welcome my attention. "Zub' in ist, effendi," he had said. "No, Ali, you call me effendi in the souk, in bed you call me Rex." He nodded I unsixynined him - it was too complicated getting at his arsehole with my cock down his throat - and turned him so that he was crouching on my chest, facing away from me, his arse nicely presented for inspection. On inspection it proved to be a very fine little arse. Clean (he had had notice, after all) and smelling only of boy; his cheeks were smooth and unblemished, nice handfuls of promise. I licked up his perineum from his balls, and he shivered ("ah, Rex"). To my delight (who had taught him this?) his arse lips parted - an invitation I wasn't about to decline ... or to rush. I wanted to savour this boy. I licked some more, not allowing my tongue to touch his pink distended lips. I could hear him moaning. "Lisan, lisan, Rex." I advanced my lisan to his hole - no harm in complying with a request for anilingus. My lisan licked him, outside and in, for a few minutes while he continued to moan. I was guessing that his next request would be for some finger-work and, sure enough, he whispered "isba, Rex." A finger went in, and went in a very long way. Ali's lips clenched on it: this boy was an expert. I used a second, and a third. He sighed as I probed his insides. I licked his balls, provoking a shudder and a whispered "zub', Rex, zub'". It was time to fuck him: he needed it and I needed it. Fucking Ali that day was something I've never forgotten. I've fucked hundreds of boys, as you know, but never in my life have I fucked a 12-year-old who was quite so abandoned and quite so expert at being fucked. Most boys love it, once you've got them used to it, but few have the skills to communicate to the invading cock with their arse and pelvic muscles. I was completely still at one point, deep inside him, when he milked my cock from inside. He didn't move himself - to Leo and Zeb (if they had the time to peer over at us) we would both have seemed completely still - but it was as though a tiny pixie inside his arse was wanking me with fur gloves. Never in my life have I felt that sensation. It couldn't last, or so I thought. I was beginning to feel the build-up when Ali shot forward without warning, leaving my cock in mid air. I'm not sure whether I heard his arse snap shut - maybe it was the noise of my jaw hitting my chest at the suddenness of his movement. He turned and smiled at me. "Too soon, Rex. Now my zub' your ist." This could be fun, I thought. I haven't been fucked by a 12-year-old for more years than I care to think about. But then again, not that many 12-year-olds have got 7 inches to fuck with. But I wasn't ready to give his arse up yet. I remained on my back and told Ali to squat over me. His eyes lit up. "Ah, Rex, this is new way for me." Before he lowered himself onto me he made a great show of amazement at the size of my zub' - very flattering, but not altogether sincere, and reassured himself of its firmness for the intended purpose. He used his lips for this - a procedure I found entirely to my liking. Then, poised over my cock, its foreskin withdrawn, its slit leaking precum, he lined himself up. I could feel my cock being clasped again by his arse lips then ... wham! - he dropped like a stone onto me, forcing my entire 9 inches straight up inside him. This was a trick it must have taken ages to perfect, and it certainly worked on me. "Oh, fuck, Ali," I yelled, causing Leo and Zeb to glance across. Ali was enjoying showing off his repertoire to me, but equally he was intent on remaining in charge. Orgasms, when they eventually arrived, would do so this afternoon at Ali's bidding, not mine. I surrendered to him. He pulled off me again, again leaving my throbbing cock exposed in mid-air. "Now, Rex," he said fiercely, "Ali zub' in Rex ist." This time there was no denying him. I lifted my ancient legs as far as they would go over his back - far enough for a wiry 12-year-old - and he was in me. No messing about - straight in. He hadn't used any lube, and I hadn't expected to be fucked, so I hadn't prepared, but his foreplay had evidently drawn down enough of my arse juices to allow him in - all the way in - without discomfort to either of us. I'm not a habitual bottom, indeed few men have fucked me over the years, but on those occasions donkey's years ago I liked being fucked slowly. Ali's hymn-sheet didn't include slow. He was at me like a mad thing, rutting away as though his life depended on it. And, you know, it was amazingly erotic. I think if he's been 32, rather than 12, the magic would have been less, but being fucked as vigorously as this by a boy like Ali was incredibly exciting. Zeb and Leo had reached a pause in whatever they were up to, and Zeb (who probably knew Ali's fucking technique inside out, if that's the right expression) whispered to Leo, "Watch, it will be fun." Zeb rose from his side of the bed and stood over us, watching. What the hell were they going to see? Ali accelerated and I felt he was near. Suddenly - again - he whipped backwards, only this time it was to allow his cock to pour his spunk onto my belly. The boy had actually pulled out so that he could come on me, rather than in me. Immediately Zeb was down on my belly, feasting on Ali's hot cum, hot cum which Zeb passed to my mouth as soon as he had enough to share. Ali fell forwards onto me, kissing me in a frenzy. I lifted him up and lowered him back onto my cock. It was time I came. Despite having just emptied himself onto me he was still erect, and again I could feel the pixie with his fur gloves. This time I kept completely still and allowed the pixie to finish me off. To my amazement that's exactly what happened, and what's more I felt my cock shooting more cum that I'd made for a good few years. It would have been impossible to repeat that kind of performance: any attempt would be doomed to disappointing failure. That hour, on 31 August 2009, was one I would always treasure. Later, after Ali had gone home with our thanks and blessings, Leo told me that he and Zeb had had two orgasms each before Zeb made them watch Ali and me. I'd been unaware of any of their performance, but I was glad that they'd had an afternoon to remember as well. Before then, just to put the icing on the cake, Ali and Zeb had had a sixynine for our delectation - something which they clearly made a habit of doing - and so practised were they that their orgasms were practically simultaneous, each boy removing his urgent zeb from the other boy's hungry lips and coming explosively on his face. Leo and I were invited to clean their faces and Leo - bless him! - knowing my fondness for the spunk of boys, allowed me to service them both - their faces and their cocks. That is why 2009 was memorable. =============================================================================== badboi666@btinternet.com is where you should sent comments and suggestions