Date: Wed, 16 Aug 2017 18:31:49 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Lion-King Chapter 9 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 9 31 August 2001. Idi is our houseboy again this year. He's 15 now and, while still delightful, will soon reach the end of his attractiveness. I doubt whether he will be with us next year, but the three years he's been with us have been very rewarding, and Idi is nice company outside the bedroom as well. ***** 31 August 1999. We found a new boy - Idi, who's 13 - in the usual way. I went into the souk and walked around with my shirt open, allowing all and sundry to see my tattoo. When Ace and I had them done in Cairo all those years ago neither of us dreamed that they would be useful as advertising material. You won't have heard about them before, of course. They were each done over four days for our 21st birthday presents to each other. Ace's had a naked man gazing out at the viewer. He's holding a naked boy upside down in front of him. The boy is presumably sucking the man's cock, although you couldn't see that. The man - Ace - is rimming the boy. Mine has the naked man in profile with the naked boy kneeling in front of him sucking him off. The tattoo artist charged us £40 each, which was exorbitant, but we haggled with him and he threw the boys (his sons) in for nothing. That tattoo has found me a lot of willing company in the souk over the years. This time I'd only walked about 200 metres when a boy caught sight of the art-work and ran along beside me. I stopped and smiled. "Do you like what you see?" I asked. He nodded. "Would you like to be the boy in the picture?" He nodded again, beaming from ear to ear. I took him into a little coffee shop and we discussed matters. He was 13, he said, and lived with his mother. If I would pay him - he named a ridiculously small sum - he would do what the boy in the picture was doing. I said that I wanted a more lasting relationship, at which his smile became even wider. At the mention of possible employment as houseboy, with a wage attached, he almost wept with joy. The money would enable his mother to buy all kinds of things her poverty obliged her to do without (or so he claimed). It was agreed that he would tell - not ask, he was a man, after all - his mother of his new status as bread-winner, and that when that was done he would return to me, here, at this table, and he would then become my houseboy. Before he dashed off I felt it right to advise him of the precise nature of his forthcoming responsibilities, and that there would be another gentleman wishing to share his delights. Idi's smile now reached round his entire head. You'll remember that the day before yesterday, in four year's time, Idi is a married man and devoted practising heterosexual. But right now, at 13, his entire life is centred on his cock, and the pleasure it brings him in a gratifyingly wide range of ways. Well, that's not strictly true. Half his entire life is centred on his cock, allowing his arse, in all its infinite capacity for delight, to occupy the other half of his waking hours. I just hope that his wife will supply the endless variety which Leo and I shared with Idi when he was still queer. Somehow I doubt it. Poor Idi! But right now, in 1999, Idi is ours. His body is like most boys' bodies in Tangier. They are all slim, brown, dark-haired, black-eyed beauties. He is about 5'6" - tall for his age, but that's an advantage if 69 is your lucky number. He is completely hairless - not even the tiniest hint of peach fuzz, even on his lip. He is cut, of course, and his cock is on the generous side at almost 7 inches when in use. It's unusual in that when it's at rest it is a great deal smaller - 3 inches if measured generously. The growth is one of the startling sights of a naked Idi. He's become aware in the last three weeks while he's been with us that his erection process is one Leo and I never tire of witnessing, so extraordinary is the degree of growth. To him it's perfectly normal (but surely you've seen other boys' cocks, I asked him one day. His reply was that the only time he saw other boys' cocks they were stiff already. Obvious, really). Idi has clear ideas about the manner in which he wishes to achieve his next orgasm. Happily for us all he seems to have a limitless supply of good manners. He's equally happy as a top or a bottom; his arse and his mouth are equally willing - greedy - recipients of our cum; he is a good fucker, becoming better each day; his sucking skills are not quite perfect yet, but we're all working hard to bring him on. The pity is that virtually all this will be wasted on Mrs Idi. Still, you never know, he might breed a succession of fine sons to keep him incestuously occupied in 15 years' time. Each morning, after breakfast (yes, Idi gives me mine in bed, just as all the later boys have done) and sweeping, the three of us sit down to discuss the day. The second day Idi was with us Leo thought it would be fun, given the boy's unusual imagination, and his willingness to share his desires with us, if each morning the three of us took it in turns to determine who would do what, and with whom, that afternoon. (Leo and I had agreed this approach, and I had insisted that it applied only to the afternoon's frolics: bed-time would be for the grown-ups to determine.) Idi was very grave at these morning meetings: he was being a man while we sat formally. As soon as we had agreed matters he stood up, and reverted to being a boy. Yesterday it had been Leo who decided what would happen, and Idi had ended up being fucked solidly by Leo for half an hour, then me for almost as long. During this prolonged session Idi had had three orgasms, one in my mouth, one in his hand, subsequently transferred to his mouth, and one - less copious, but still pleasing - delivered into Leo's mouth while I was engaged up his arse. Idi had enjoyed yesterday afternoon, and it was good that he was able to cum again in bed last night. Idi cleared his throat - the traditional Arab precursor to the business in hand. "Today, Rex, I want to fuck you very much." Good, I thought, I like being fucked by Idi. "And then I want Leo to suck my cock while you play with your fingers in my arse." Even better: Idi's arse is a very rewarding place to spend time. The three of us smiled at what was in store after lunch. Leo went out to his daily shopping expedition in the souk and I busied myself at home. That's not strictly true: there's nothing to busy me here at all. Idi's done the sweeping and is pottering about. I am perving on his slim body, clad only in a dishdash which conceals nothing. As he moves he does so with the elegance of a ballet dancer and the unconcerned grace of a wild animal. As he reaches up to a shelf I can see his cock pressing on the fabric; as he bends down the smooth round guardians of the paradise that is his arse tempt me. I resist the temptation. He moves to the bedroom to tidy up there ready for siesta. The only time our bed is neat is between breakfast and siesta. It doesn't take him long. He comes back and - I think he does this deliberately - bends down again to straighten one of the mats. The guardians of paradise are before me again. This time I don't even try to resist. I reach forward and take his arse cheeks in my hands, caressing them and kneading them. Idi purrs, "yes" he murmurs, "I like that, Rex." I remove my hands only to insinuate them back onto his arse, but this time inside his dishdash. The heat is incredible. He moves back onto me, a movement which means my hands slip round his hips - narrow brown boyish hips - and find, with no great surprise, Idi's half-hard cock. My left hand drops a couple of inches to gather his balls and a few seconds later my right hand is no longer holding a half-hard cock. Instead it has witnessed Idi's miraculous growth spurt again and had 7 inches to stroke. This needed more attention that I could give it under a dishdash. I stand up and lead him by the cock into the bedroom. There he stands, still in his dishdash, his cock monstrously poking the front towards me. He smiles the smile of a boy who knows that the only thing between him and his next orgasm is the delightful process of getting him there. I lean forward and kiss his lips. They part; his tongue comes forward just enough to touch the tip of my tongue; our tongues play gently. Somehow this is more erotic than the full-blown tonsil-threatening kissing the sometimes happens. Idi commands a gratifyingly wide repertoire of techniques. While our tongues are still playing Idi reaches down and starts to lift his dishdash. We break off from kissing while he removes it completely. "Now you, Rex," he whispers. I take off my robe. He stands before me and, not for the first time, traces my tattoo with his forefinger. "I like this," he said, "he is a lucky boy. Is he real?" I told him that the boy was indeed real, but that he was probably about 60 now. "If he is 60, Rex, then you need another boy to play tattoo games," and with that he knelt and, as the 60-year-old had done in 1950 in Cairo when he was only 11, he took my cock in his mouth. His tongue and lips were very skilled - they had done this before, both to me and to Leo, but this occasion was somehow special. Here was the boy in Cairo being remembered - not something that had happened before. Our tattoos had been widely admired over the years before Ace died, but mine had had little exposure since then outside the souk and the bedroom. Here today it was inspiring an act of homage to a long-forgotten memory. I leant down slightly and took Idi's head in my hands, cradling it as you do when your cock is being sucked. Idi's fingers were not idle. He tapped my thighs, and I interpreted this as a signal that he wished me to part them, allowing his hands access to my balls. He cupped them in his left hand, rolling them gently and sending a thrill through me. He'd done this several times in the last few weeks, but this time it's much more exciting. His right hand reached further back, past my balls. I felt a finger teasing my arse-hole. I bent my knees very slightly, signalling that he should not hang about on the welcome mat, but enter with all haste. This afternoon, at his suggestion, he would be fucking me, but this morning it was his fingers I needed up there. Idi knows all about prostates. Mine was his immediate target, and when his fingers found it he went to work. I knew I wasn't going to last long. "Idi," I moaned, "this is lovely, I'm nearly there." Idi then produced the icing on the cake - the cake that was his tongue on my cock and his fingers on my prostate. He closed his lips tightly just behind the head of my cock - urgent, pleading, leaking precum - and buzzed in his throat. The vibration was indescribable and it took me right over the edge. My spunk gushed into his mouth, still buzzing as I filled it. After four or five hard spurts my spasm ended and Idi stopped buzzing. He took his mouth, still full of my cum, off my cock and stood up. His slight eye-brow-raised query was answered by my nod and our mouths mashed together. This kiss was more in the tonsil-threatening category, and lasted several minutes. When it was over he dropped to his knees again. "We must have you clean for Leo," he said as he made sure my cock was residue-free. We still had the afternoon to look forward to. Idi had been careful not to cum himself. The smile in anticipation of the next orgasm was still there, wider perhaps than before as a result of the substantial shared protein intake. It's strange being fucked by a 13-year-old with a 7-inch cock. Strange, and very satisfying. A young teenager, even one fired up with the hormonal charge that Idi has right now, ploughing deep inside me, has energy an old bugger like me can only marvel at, never mind remember. I'm sure Ace and I fucked like this all those years ago, but try as I might I can't remember Ace as a 13-year-old. I haven't thought of Ace for a while now, but even as Idi's at work I'm aware that I'm slowly getting closer to him, day by day, year by year. Concentrate, King - no, Rex - it isn't time for King yet. Enjoy the animal energy of the boy busy fucking you, bringing himself to a churning climax deep inside you ... Idi's there, he's yelping as he comes, spurting spurting spurting, his cock swelling slightly with each spurt as he pumps his spunk high up in my guts. For that brief moment I love this boy, as I've loved so many boys at the peak of ecstasy. It doesn't last though: the only ones I love properly are dead. And Leo, of course, but my love for Leo is there all the time Idi's spent, but his cock is coated with his cum and my arse juices. He has commended Leo to clean him up. Leo lies the boy on his back on the bed and gets into 69 position. Idi hasn't specified this, saying only that Leo is to suck his cock while I play with his arse. Leo, full of guile and lust in pretty much equal measures, isn't going to allow Idi to get away without a reciprocal sucking, gives the boy no choice. Each of them is really delighted, of course. Leo's treat is more highly-flavoured than Idi's - that's the way Leo likes it. He licks the boy's cock like an ice lolly - long slow slurping licks - getting the full flavour of Idi and of me. Leo's cock hardens at these tastes. Idi knows his business. He bends to take Leo's cock in, and when I see that they're both happily feasting I start in on Idi's arse. My tongue laps along his perineum; it reaches his hole; it licks a couple of times; his muscle relaxes; my tongue goes in an inch or so; he relaxes more. Finger time now - a tongue is fine for unlocking the door, but it won't venture very far in. Two fingers please Idi greatly: he twitches; the third one takes pleasure a lot further. I wonder how much more he can take. I've never fisted him, and this isn't the time, given the proximity of his teeth to Leo's cock. On the other hand I'm very tempted ... no, Rex, not today. Maybe tomorrow. While I'm debating this there is action elsewhere. Leo has brought Idi to his destination, smiled at in anticipation three hours ago. Leo's mouth is as filled with 13-year-old cum as mine was this morning: where the boy gets it from I have no idea. Silly, now that I write it down - I know perfectly well where he gets it from: those beautiful low-hanging plums I love to suck. What I really mean is that I have no idea how quickly those soft vulnerable plums go so vigorously to work in their suede pouch to conjure up the billions of tiny tastes of joy. Happily I don't need to know: all I have to do is marvel at the sheer beauty of his adolescent maleness, and give thanks for being an old queer, and turned so hugely on by such things. Leo has come as well. Idi has his afternoon treat. He will grow big and strong, I'm sure. But tomorrow he will be invaded properly. My cock twitches as I think about it. =============================================================================== badboi666@btinternet.com is where you should sent comments and suggestions