Date: Thu, 02 Apr 2015 13:23:17 -0400
From: jacky-p@hushmail.com
Subject: Recruiter: Chapter 1: Winston

Recruiter Chapter 1: Winston
By Jack BP (jacky-p@hushmail.com)
Story Codes: Mb, oral, anal

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adult readers only. If it is illegal for you to read or own homosexual
erotic fiction about adults and young minors, please don't read this story.

This story is meant solely for entertainment purposes, not
instruction. Please do yourself (and everyone) a favor and DON'T have
sexual relationships any real minors.

All characters and events are fictional. Any likeness to any person living,
dead, or yet to be born is completely coincidental.

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Without further ado...

Recruiter
Winston

I stepped off the small, private plane onto the rich black tarmac, slipping
dark glasses over my eyes. Looking around, I spotted the Mini reserved for
me. I quickly got into the car and pulled over the padden envelope in the
passenger seat. Inside, was a small tablet computer.  It was an Apple, but
had a sophisticated hidden file structure. I typed in the secred PIN,
allowing the fingerprimt scanner hidden in the screen to verify my
access. The tablet opened and I scrolled to the special icon that would
only be available to me. Even if someone figured out the PIN, they wouldn't
get access to this file without my fingerprints.

I opened it and stats and icons quickly scrolled across:

Case:  GBUK-01097
Name: WINSTON HENRY MASON
Age: 11
Confidence: 0.72
(Interesting...confidence rarely went above .67)
Experience: Little to none (unverified)

It then listed my target's home and school addresses, his known hangouts
and associations. A couple of photos were attached.

I checked the time, then drove into town.

*   *   *

Churchshire was your quintessential English town. Cobbled streets lined
with tudor houses and small shoppes. The community was small and tight
knit. I noticed the townsfolk could tell right away that I was an outsider
as I drove through the quiet streets to my destination.

I parked a street down from the largest building in Churchshire. The school
was in recess, dozens and dozens of young boys and girls littered the
schoolyard playing games, chatting, and trying ameturishly to seduce the
opposite sex. All under the eyes of the Diocese of Abbington Middle Academy
proctors. I scanned the crowds: boys in ties, jackets and shorts; girls in
blouses and knee-length skirts; the proctors in suits an pantsuits.

There he was. Winston Henry Mason. The eleven-year-old stood apart watching
a few of the other boys play a game of football. As the other boys laughed
and played, I watched my young target. He stood, at around four feet
tall. A little short for his age, and I could tell he was smaller than most
of his peers. His sandy hair was neat, and as I studied him, he pulled out
his comb and, unnecessarily straightened his part. He licked his full lips
as he watched the game.

As I studied him, I realized he wasn't really watching the ball game at
all. He was watching one of the boys. I followed his gaze and saw why the
Foreign Assent Granting Secretariat chose me for this mission. The only boy
Winston had eyes for could have been my son. Of course, that's impossible,
but the resemblance was striking. I smiled to myself. This was going to be
easy.

I started to form my plan. Trapped in my thoughts I almost didn't notice
the severe looking woman with a frown walking towards me. Damn. I hated
this part of the job.

I stepped out of the car as the proctor reached me and put on my most
disarming smile. It didn't work.

"What are you doing here," she didn't waste on formalites. Or common
politeness. It disarmed me and I went immediately defensive.

"This is a public street. I have every right to be here."

Her eyes narrowed. "You do, but I'm charged with protecting my kids. What's
your interest in young Master Mason?"

I didn't answer, but shifted uncomfortably. I hated confrontation. My goal
was always to recruit without trouble, but sometimes I got stuck.

"Our treaty requires..." I began as her narrowed eyes shot open.

"You're a..." her controlled demeanor cracked as her face went ashen. She
swallowed hard. "You're a FAGS?" It wasn't a question, but I nodded assent
anyways.

She glanced at Winston. The schoolyard had silenced. Everyone, student and
minder had stopped to watch the confrontation. They couldn't hear from this
distance, but they could see her reaction.

She turned back to me, her face turned in revolt, but there was something
else in her eyes. Fear? Pity? It didn't matter at this point because here
thoughts became clear. "You people disgust me."

I tried not to flinch at the hurt. It reminded me of so much. "That's why
I'm here. To protect one of your students from your barbaric society."

She laughed at that last comment, but ignored it otherwise. "There are
other ways. Conversion is-"

"Execution." I interrupted trying to stem my anger. She didn't disagree but
looked back at Winston. This time, the other students saw and some shuffled
away from the boy as if they knew what we were talking about. Winston's
eyes were wide with fear.

"I should call his mother," she said as if to herself.

"It would be better for all invloved if you didn't," I softened my voice in
sympathy of her struggle.

"School gets out at 2:40," I knew this already.

She walked away, "Poor boy..."

*   *   *

I stood in the park, alone as I waited, partially hidden behind a corner in
the path. I waited. Then I heard the soft scraping of little shoes on the
pavement. I listened carefully and timed it. I walked briskly around the
corner and almost collided with the young body producing the sounds. My
timing was a little off. With a quiet squeak, the boy jumped in surprise.

"Sorry, little bro, I didn't see you there," I lied.

"It's okay," he began, then stopped, looking me up and down. "Hey, your the
guy Mrs. Brown was talking to."

"I am," I offered no explanation.

He bit his lower lip, looking conflicted. I took the time to take better
stock of the kid. My earlier observations were confirmed at this much
closer distance. He was just at four feet tall. His sandy hair was short,
recently trimmed and parted perfectly on the side. His clothes were neatly
pressed, clean, and fitted as if they were made for him. His black shoes
shined, polished; dark, socks conformed to his legs as they rose to
mid-calf contrasted with his white legs; above his knees rode his khaki
shorts. I examined his eleven-year-old crotch for his bulge, but the
pleated shorts hid any sort of boyish definition. At his hips, his shorts
were held up by a black leather belt. His white button-up shirt was tucked
neatly in his pants. He wore a navy necktie which matched his navy blazer
perfectly.

I looked into his face to see him skeptically looking at me. Caught!

"It's true what they said," he blurted as his eyes filled with water, "Your
from Manlantia and Beaver Bay, aren't you?"

"I am," I said solemnly. I knew what he was going through. I knew how hard
it could be. But I also knew how much better it would be for him once he
came around.

"Do you think I'm...that way?" He looked up at me pleading. My heart ached
with his pain.

"I do."

Tears spilled down his cheeks. "No. You're wrong. I'm not." He didn't sound
convinced.

I put my hand on his shoulder. "Let's find out together."

"No!" Winston snapped, "I know I'm not." He took a step back away from me.

I sighed to myself. "Okay. I believe you," I lied again. "At least let me
take you home."

Lost in his own inner turmoil, he didn't argue as I led him to my car.

*   *   *

We zoomed down the country road as we chatted. I started the conversation,
talking about how hard my childhood was and how wonderful my life had been
after I'd been recruited myself. I told him about my life, my husband, our
sons, our dogs. Winny, as he preferred to be called by 'his friends',
seemed to be relaxing a bit, but was still distracted. He didn't seem to
notice my hand rubbing on his knee in sensual comfort. Or that we should
have been to his house an hour ago.

"Hey," Winny said after a while, finally calm enough to notice, "where are
we?"

I didn't answer, but drove over to a secluded pull-out, hidden from the
road that I'd scouted earlier.

"Listen, Winny," I began, "I know you are trying to figure stuff out, but
I've done this a lot before. I know what I'm talking..." my voice broke. I
sighed at myself in perfect faux annoyance.

"Can you hand me the water in the glove box?" He did. I took a long gulp
and looked over at the young boy sitting next to me. I tried not to
smile. He had pulled out the other item in the glove box: a man's fitness
magazine.

His eyes were saucers and his jaw gaped open as he stared at the man on the
cover. "Is...is this you?" He looked over at me in disbelief.  This time I
didn't hide my smile.

"It's an old picture, but I really like how the lighting makes my chest
look."

Winny went back and started flipping through the magazine. He didn't even
notice my hand creeping up his thigh.

"But my favorite," I continued as I leaned towards him, "is on page 39."

He flipped to the page and oohed unconsiously. I smiled again at the
attention. I started to rub his crotch. I could feel his respectable
hardness. He pushed up into my hand.

"I wish I was still in that good of shape," I fished.

"I bet you are," he blushed. I knew I had him.

"You wanna find out?" I was already unzipping him as he nodded. I leanded
in and kissed Winny. As my tongue slipped into the eleven-year-old's mouth,
my hand, with practiced experience, fished out his boy-prick and started
stroking. He wrapped his thin arms around my neck to hold me in, but I had
other plans.

I pulled back with a disappointed grunt from the boy. That disappointment
evaporated into blissful gasps as I slipped his hardness in my mouth. It
was a wonderful boy-cock. It was a solid three and a half inches. Uncut,
which was surprising in this devout country. That would serve Winny well as
he wouldn't have to experience restoration surgery like I had. What also
would serve Winny well when he grew up a bit, I thought as I licked his
little sac, was the slight upward curve of his dick. Men would love looking
into his eyes as he fucked their prostates.

I could sense his impending explosion. He was exhibiting the usual signs:
his hips were bucking erradically, his breathing became haggard and
uncontrolled, and he even gripped my head in an inspired but ultimately
futile attempt to control his sex. But I couldn't let him come yet. As I
pulled off, he gripped my hair, desperate for me to continue.

I looked up at his flush face as it became frustrated. I grinned cheekily,
"My turn, Little Bro." I sat up and moved my seat back.

As I unzipped my pants and pulled my hard, dripping boy-fucker out, I
noticed Winny desperately jacking his prick. "Now, now," I admonished,
taking his hand away, "Not yet. Now, come over here."

I lifted the boy up by his arm pits and set him on the floor below the
steering wheel, between my legs. He looked at my cock, entranced. With one
hand, he reached out and squeezed my cock. A bead of pre oozed out. His
other hand had snaked to hus crotch. "Hey!" I shouted at the little horn
dog, "No. Your hands on my thighs." He obeyed. During all this, his eyes
never left my pedo-cock.

I gently rubbed my dick against is full boy-lips, smearing my pre as if it
were lip gloss. It made his lips shine, too. Eager, without being told to,
he opened his lips and let my dick head into his eleven-year-old mouth. I
throbbed at the hotness of his enthusiasm. He started thrusting me in and
out of him but I stopped him.

Many men and boys like massive pricks. I've found that I have a perfect
cock for my line of work. At barely 5 inches in length, and 2.5 in
circumference, my prick was made for small inexperienced throats and
bums. It did embarass me at some of the Manlantean parties, but I usually
hung out with the smaller crowds, anyway.

One thing was certain as I pulled the eager boy's head to my crotch. This
throat was made for my cock. As his little upturned nose entered my pubic
bush, I could feel the tip of my cock prod against the back of Winny's
throat. To the boy's credit, he held back his gag. But the strands of my
pubic hair up his little nose clearly irritated him. He wiggled his nose at
the tickling. In doing so, he rubbed my cock back and forth against the
back of his throat. I sighed.

"Suck," I said. Some men like it when you suck their cock up and down like
you're jacking them off. That's fun and all, but I prefer it when my cock
stays in their mouth the whole time. Its amazing how much pleasure you can
get from just a tongue rubbing against your dick.

I looked down at Winny as the boy's tongue worked to get me off. Seeing my
cock sticking out between his smooth lips as he looked up at me, begging
for validation of his skills (ameturish as they were) put me quickly over
the edge. I pulled his head almost off my dick as I came. I like shooting
in a little boy's mouth, making him taste my jism as my seed swam around
his tongue. Does that make me a pervert?

I pulled out an quickly lifted the boy up, standing him on my seat. I
engulfed his little prick. As soon as it entered my mouth, his legs
trembled and I tasted, for the first time, the salty sweetness of his
immature ejaculate.

I looked up at him. "So, do you think you're Manlantis material?"

He looked down at me and took a large swallow. The little perv had kept my
cum in his mouth until he got off. Only now was my thick load working its
way down Winny's throat to warm his pubescent belly.

*   *   *

We were in the Manlantean jet. A few minutes ago, the pilot had turned on
the light to indicate we were in international airspace. We had an eighteen
hour flight. Eighteen hours to get this little eleven-year-old boy ready
for his hazing.

Winny was kneeling on the leather recliner in the passenger compartment
naked. I was behind him, my tongue lodged in his ass. He tasted great. The
first thing I do when we get airborn is clean a recruit out before rimming
him. Boy-ass always tastes better than man-ass. Not that I really
care. Winny wiggled his bum on my face. He was ready.

I stood, spread my dripping pre on my cock, stepped up to the boy. He
looked behind him to see what I was doing. He smiled as I lined up. With a
slow and steady push, I entered my virgin. I like to look as the hole
stretches. Winny groaned in discomfort. Then he fully caught up and
screamed at the pain. It was still better this way than being popped at the
hazing.

*   *   *

Mrs. Brown was so caught up in her own thoughts that she almost missed the
bookbag laying unceremoniously on the ground. She looked around but didn't
see anyone so she walked over to it and opened it up. Inside she read the
label and her breath caught. "WINSTON H. MASON".

"Poor boy," she said under her breath as she shook her head. Then she knelt
down, right there in the parking lot and prayed for the little boy's soul.

*   *   *

I slammed in and out of the little boy's anus. The fourth time in 24 hours
was always hard for me, but I needed to prepare him. Besides, Winny's
little round bubble butt made me so horny. This fucking was almost violent
as I plowed inwards. Winny was lying prone on his stomach under me.

His hole was loose and I could barely feel it, but I fucked away. There was
a mess under us. My previous two loads had been fucked out of the
eleven-year-old anus and left a slippery mess on the couches. The captain
had just turned on the fasten seatbelt sign so I didn't have much time
left. The boy was moaning under me as my sweat dripped onto his back. I was
close. So close.

"Finish in me, Big Bro," he thrust back like a pro. He'll do great at the
hazing.

The end...?

*   *   *   *   *

So, what did you think? Let me know: jacky-p@hushmail.com

More to come. Thanks for reading.

Jp