Date: Sun, 15 Feb 2009 23:55:29 -0800 (PST) From: Jack De Gropier Subject: Short Story: Miguelito I gripped his hips and pulled him hard down on me. My cock was as deep in him now, as deep it could possibly go. His pretty gypsy boy face was contorted as he struggled to accommodate me. Those cupid-bow lips that had first attracted me to him were twisted now. He was biting his bottom lip, anxious not to cry out. I held still now, partly to give him time to get used to the rock-hard cock that had invaded his rectum, partly to prolong my own pleasure. "You wanna fuck my son? You wanna fuck my pretty Miguelito?" That old bitch of a gypsy woman had seen how I was looking at her son, and she knew how to exploit my lust. The boy himself had stared at me, unsmiling, his liquid brown eyes boring into mine. Funny, really, I usually go for pretty blond blue-eyed boys, like my Brian, the first boy I fucked when I was just eighteen. But this dark-skinned gypsy boy had that sexual aura that sends out a signal to men like me, a signal that says, yes, I like going with men. "You wanna fuck my Miguelito? It's gonna cost you." That whore! Selling her own son, knowing that I would use him like a girl! He was SO pretty, and that mouth! I wanted to kiss him full on his lips right there and then. "How much?" The words were out of my mouth before I had time to think. I had never paid for it before. This is what lust does to a man - reason flies out the window as your cock rises and all you can think about is your desperate need to fuck this delicious little gypsy boy. And now, here he was, straddling my thighs and trying to cope bravely with my cock thrust deep into his innards. I looked down at his diminutive penis and was delighted to see that it was tumescent. He was responding sexually at last. "Te gusta, Miguelito?" I whispered. "Do you like it?" "No se. Tal vez, pues si." "I don't know, Maybe. Well, yes." "Sure he likes it, my Miguelito. He's a little "puta", aren't you, Miguelito?" His crone of a mother had come into the room. I hated her. "You got ten minutes mister, you fuck him good, then you go!" Thank god the bitch then left us to enjoy our fuck together. My cock was throbbing inside the boy now, you know, that kind of palpating that is almost better than an orgasm. I started to move inside him again. controlling his movements with the grip of my hands on his hips. Miguelito began to respond, to wriggle to better accommodate my throbbing penis deep inside his boipussy. "Hold your pito for me, Miguelito," I whispered. The boy smiled for the first time, and obediently wrapped his fingers tightly round his penis. He quickly worked it to erection and began to masturbate. "You are very beautiful, Miguelito." He smiled the smile of a boy who had heard these words many times before. I suddenly wondered if maybe I wasn't the first man to fuck him. Damn. But then, he was so wonderfully tight, it had taken me quite a while to relax his sphincter with my tongue and my fingers. No, surely he was a virgin. "Can you make milk?" I asked him. He shook his head. "Not a problem, mi amor, I can make enough milk for both of us." I was getting close now, you know, that terrible moment when you want to prolong the fuck but your lust gets the better of you and you start thrusting aggressively like you wanted to split the boy in two, you get in a frenzy as you feel your ballsac tightening, aligning, your cock going into hyper-rigidity, the pause, the moment when the whole world seems to hang still, and then the release, spurt after spurt of precious manseed pumping into the boy, inseminating him, feeding him, bringing him the benison that is a man's semen, making him whole and strong. For the first time, Miguelito uttered an animal sound, not a moan, not a scream, a sort of open-throated roar, but soft like lion cub. His fist was still wrapped tightly round his little stiffy and he was pumping furiously in rhythm to the surges of my orgasm. It was beautiful. There should be a better word for it, maybe, beautifuck, I was dizzy now, no longer in control. Miguelito was in control now. He uttered his lioncub roar again, softer this time, and I realised he had experienced some kind of dry orgasm of his own. I pulled him to me and kissed him on his cupid's bow lips. He responded, bless him, and snuggled into me. Slowly slowly I detumesced until my cock slid out of him. What had started out as lust had turned, for both of us, into a sweet tenderness, I won't call it love, but maybe it was. "Time up. You go." The crone was back, breaking the spell. How could a woman so ugly be the mother of a boy so beautiful? My feelings of loving tenderness evaporated and I felt suddenly like the dirty old man I was. Damn her to hell. She stayed, arms akimbo, hatred in her eyes as she watched me dress, while her son busied himself cleaning himself and putting on his cheap teeshirt and pants. I avoided her gaze and got out of there as soon as I could. Out in the street, I breathed deeply, wondering how I could have been such a degenerate. "Mister?" It was Miguelito tugging at my sleeve. My little dark angel. "What is it, mi vida?" "COme." He guided me round the corner and into an alley, away from prying eyes. "If you want, we can do fuck again, mister. Just you and me, not my mother there." We made an arrangement to meet at another venue. I couldn't help myself. I wanted him again already. Just the two of us. I wondered if he would want me to pay him. Whatever. Once you've sold your soul to the devil, there's no going back. Free or not, I couldn't wait to slide my cock back into the haven of Miguelito's tight little love-sheath. 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