Date: Sun, 15 Aug 2010 18:52:45 +0000 From: Josh Long Subject: Rob Boibeder chapter 2 Boibeder learned the boy's name, `Ash', and that, in the unlikely event that his school would make enquiries about his absence, unlikely because it was, Ash said, `a crap school an' he almost never went', his mother would dismiss them, telling them that he'd gone to live with his father, `somewhere up north.' She had no more idea than Ash where his father was, Ash had never even seen him, and he doubted if his mother had from the moment his father had found out he'd got her pregnant. End of chapter one At the harbour there was no trouble getting Ash on board. The man at the desk accepted without question what to Boibeder seemed the very lame excuse of `my grandson decided at the last minute to come as well', pointing out that the fare paid was for a car and up to four passengers and that Boibeder had booked a two berth cabin so there was no accommodation problem and no extra to pay. Passport control barely even looked at their passports and they were on board and in the cabin without anyone giving them as much as a second glance. Boibeder dumped his overnight bag on the lower bunk and planned his next move in the bedding of Ash. The boy was, in Boibeder's opinion, perfect for his needs. He liked his boys slender and Ash was certainly that. He was about five six tall, fresh faced and with an easy smile, a very young looking sixteen which held out the promise of nice, smooth thighs, an essential for Boibeder's full enjoyment of a boy's charms. Ash looked a shade uncertain but relieved as well when he took in the sleeping arrangements. He would have a bunk to himself at least. His earlier promise of `anything', though initially forgotten, had been nagging at him once it was clear that he was actually being taken onto the ferry, even though Boibeder had avoided any sexual hints or suggestions, Ash was well aware that the deal he had struck had been taken as including his body; the long, meaningful stares at his groin had made that clear, at least to his subconscious mind, and although that had been dismissed as unimportant and as `something that could be dealt with later' in the urgency of his need to get away, he was now in a small cabin, alone with the man to whom he had promised `anything'. Like any other lad of his age, Ash knew that there were men who went for boys in a sexual way. What would he do if this guy, who was certainly old enough to be his grandfather for real, understood `anything' to mean just that? For his part, Boibeder had long since divined the boy's uncertainty, and was enjoying playing on it. He was convinced the boy had no, or very little, sexual experience, and was intending to maximise the pleasure of leading him into the delights of man-boy sex, slowly, experience by experience. Fate had dealt him the opportunity to indulge in his favourite hobby – boy flesh – and he intended to make the most of it. If all went well he would be enjoying this particular piece of flesh for some time; if he played it wrong he'd only get it the once and he didn't want that. At his age boys were not easy to get and he wanted to make the most of the one he'd been given! "Let's grab some munchies," he said, "And then raid the duty free, stock up on tobacco. Fags as well, if you prefer them," Ash, who hadn't eaten for ages, smiled in relief. He really needed food and the worries about how to keep his boxers on and not get abandoned in a French port faded at the prospect of filling his stomach. Brittany Ferries, being French, served good food, even in the cafeteria, and Ash's eyes lit up at the choice presented to him, even though most of what was on offer was outside his knowledge of food. "I'd suggest the things that look like burgers," Boibeder said, aware of the boy's problem. "They're actually minced steak, not the crap you get from McDonalds." Ash smiled at him. "They look good, but so does the steak," he said. Steak did not form part of his regular diet. "Yeh," Boibeder agreed, "But be careful. The French like their steak still going `moo', they show it the pan then put it on the plate. I call it `raw'." Ash shuddered. "The burger thingies, then," he grinned. Boibeder had the salmon and ordered a bottle of Rudessheimer Rosengarten to go with it. He was pretty sure young Ash hadn't indulged in wine and the rose flavoured, fairly low alcohol German, would both taste good and not knock him out. In fact, as Boibeder hoped, Ash downed half the bottle with enjoyment as he wolfed his meal. Enough alcohol to relax him and nowhere near enough to have any adverse effects. In the duty free, Boibeder grabbed a couple of packs of Golden Virginia and asked Ash what he wanted. Ash shrugged and looked embarrassed. "I ain't got enough money for fags," he finally muttered. "Not a problem," Boibeder smiled easily. "My part of our deal was to take you along with me. That means I look after you." Ash blushed, partly with the embarrassment of being treated in a way he'd never been treated before and partly at the subtle reminder of their `deal' and his promise of `anything'. Boibeder sensed a good moment to nudge the boy into a slightly better understanding of his part in the arrangement. "You said `anything' remember," Boibeder said lightly, "So if I want to treat you, you have to put up with it, don't you." "You just bought me a meal," the boy responded, aware that all this attention could be putting him further into a debt he might have to pay, however much he didn't want to. "Now I'm buying you fags," Boibeder said with finality. "Which ones you want?" "Don't know," Ash replied, shy and embarrassed again. "Don't usually buy fags." "But you do smoke them," Boibeder grinned back. "Yeh, usually scrounge them off me mates or nick `em off the cow." By `cow' Boibeder assumed the boy was referring to his mother. "Well, now I'm buying them for you, so what you want?" Ash looked at the array in front of him, totally bewildered by the choice. "English fags not common in Spain," Boibeder pointed out, "Marlboro or Chesterfield's the most common apart from the local brands." "Packet of Marlboro, then," Ash acquiesced then gasped "What?" as Boibeder tossed a carton of two hundred in the basket. "Won't get any booze, `cos we dock at eight in the morning and then it's a thousand mile drive. OK?" Ash nodded. "Unless you want something, of course?" Ash shook his head. He wasn't used to drinking and the half bottle of wine had already got him gently squiffy and there was the matter of his boxers to think about, and the more Boibeder treated him the more Ash thought about his boxers. "Cool," Boibeder announced and paid for the purchase. "Let's dump these in the cabin, nip outside for a smoke and then get some kip, then," he suggested. They were shivering a bit when they returned to the cabin, shivers that didn't last long in the high inside temperatures. Ash, Boibeder noticed, looked a little pensive, as though something was troubling him. It wasn't hard to guess what – bedtime was nigh and that promise of `anything' was probably rearing itself in the boy's consciousness. "I'll just grab a quick wash, then you can shower and rinse out your socks, knickers and shirt," Boibeder announced, deliberately not noticing the boy's definable anxiety. Ash looked puzzled and Boibeder explained patiently, "You can't be carrying an extensive wardrobe in that little bag and I don't fancy a smelly youth sitting beside me for the next thousand miles. You wash out your kit while you're in the shower and drape them over the towel rail. They'll be well dry by the morning." Ash still looked confused so Boibeder clarified things for him, pointing out that there was no-one to provide clean clothing for him in the Bay of Biscay. There was an ulterior motive to Boibeder's suggestion, of course. With his underwear wet, Ash would have to sleep naked and Boibeder had already formed his plans for stage one in redeeming Ash's promise of `anything'. Boibeder was comfortably in his bunk when the boy came back from the small cabin bathroom, towel wrapped round his waist. His top was, of course, uncovered and Boibeder mentally licked his lips at the sight of the smooth, slender chest with its two brown nubs. He noted with even more mental lip licking that the boy's lower legs were almost innocent of hair and he looked forward with sensual delight and desire to the prospect of revealing the upper legs in all their cock hardening smoothness. Boibeder loved smooth boy thighs. Ash made his way to the bunks and went to start climbing the steps to his upper one. "Hold on, Ash," Boibeder said quietly. Ash stopped and looked at him. "Lose the towel." Ash stood motionless, frozen by the undeniable realisation that the moment had come when he would have to pay his bill or go back on his word and pull out of the deal he had made. He could do that, he could refuse Boibeder's demand.............and he could lose everything by doing so; everything except his virginity. For the first time, standing, rooted to the floor no more than a couple of feet away from the man who had rescued him, the man who had bought him food and cigarettes, the man who could so easily reach out and pull off the towel that still protected him, the understanding that `anything' really might mean `everything' flooded his mind. "Lose the towel, Ash," Boibeder said gently to the frozen boy, "I want to look at you." Ash didn't have to lose the towel, he knew that. He could refuse, he very much wanted to refuse; he could protest that he hadn't meant that sort of thing when he'd said `anything'; that he hadn't expected Boibeder to take it like that; that he wasn't `that sort of boy'; there were any number of things he could say, but Ash didn't say any of them. The words flashed through his mind, but they never reached his mouth. He had no desire to be left alone in a French ferry port; unable to speak one single word of French he'd be in the hands of the police in no time at all, and that would mean being sent back to England and, almost certainly, into some sort of juvenile centre. He didn't know that Boibeder would desert him, leave him stranded and alone, but it was a risk Ash couldn't dare to take. The thought of exposing himself to a man's eyes filled him with horror -he really wasn't `that sort of boy', but the idea of being abandoned in a foreign country filled him with something more than horror, it filled him with fear. What choice did he have? Drop his towel and let the man perv his nakedness, or refuse, and risk being left alone in France. Fear won. Trembling now, Ash slowly reached for the towel round his waist, he hesitated, embarrassment flooding through him, reddening his face: what if the man didn't like what he saw, if Ash's cock was too small to be interesting to him? He grasped the towel, waited a second, pleading with all his being for Boibeder to change his mind, say he didn't have to; but when that never happened, he pulled his modesty protection open and then let it drop to the floor, standing naked for the first time in front of a man. Not only standing naked, but standing naked so a man could look at him; look at all the bits Ash had never exposed to anyone before. Boibeder looked; he let his eyes rove over the slender, naked boy, from his blushing, embarrassed, hating every second of it, face, down over that slender chest, narrow hips and slender, smooth thighs before focussing on the centre, on a slim, uncut cock hanging softly over tight, smooth balls. The boy's pubic bush added weight to Boibeder's long since formed suspicions that Ash was nowhere near sixteen, he'd seen more growth on some of the thirteen year olds who'd shared his bed in times past. "Beautiful," he said softly. "You are one beautiful boy, Ash." Ash blushed even redder. He wanted to cover himself, hide his groin from Boibeder's unwavering gaze, but no-one had ever said he was beautiful before and part of him was flattered and wanted to hear it again; a part that Ash quelled even as it rose in his mind; he had to – he wasn't `that sort of boy'. And not just because of that – the man's gaze and words stirred something inside him, something he had no control over, and it too all his will to keep himself from rising. Boibeder tapped his quilt and Ash knew he was expected to sit beside the man, but he was naked and boys, good boys, don't do that naked with a man even if they are desperate for affection. "Come on, Ash," Boibeder said quietly. "Come and give me a cuddle. A boy as gorgeous as you needs cuddling." One thing Ash did need was cuddling. If he thought about it he'd have been unable to recall the last time he'd been cuddled, been shown any sign of affection and he was desperate for affection. But he was naked! It wasn't right. But neither was running away, promising a man `anything' if he'd take him with him. Why had he done that? He so wished he'd never said it! Almost in a trance Ash eased himself as chastely as possible, onto the narrow bunk beside Boibeder. He tried to avoid contact, but in that narrow space that was just not possible. Even less possible when Boibeder wrapped his arms round Ash's slender frame and pulled him in close. Even on the narrow bunk, Ash managed to retain his chastity. Cuddled close but only the top half, and keeping himself as rigidly still as possible, scarcely even breathing, he somehow kept their legs from touching and Boibeder made no move to intrude on that fractional remaining space. The warmth of the contact shot through both of them, though it was a different thrill for both. For Boibeder it was the electric thrill of having a naked boy in his arms with the certainty that sex would eventually follow. For Ash it was the thrill of fear, fear of the sexual contact he felt sure would follow, a contact he so desperately did not want to happen; but a contact one, uncontrollable, part of his body was trying to think differently about. Boibeder held him for just a long moment, and then gave him a chaste kiss on the forehead. "Good boy, Ash," he whispered, "Good, beautiful boy." Then he patted the boy lightly on the shoulder and smiled. "Be a bit uncomfortable for you to stay here all night, nice, but not good for sleeping." Ash eased out the moment Boibeder let him go, thankful that he could get away; that, horrible as it had been, sitting there naked, nothing more had happened. He went up to his bunk , a mixture of thoughts and feelings swirling through him. He'd hated it, hadn't he? Hated having to stand naked for Boibeder to stare at; hated having to get into bed with him and be cuddled. Yes, of course he had! He just wasn't the sort of boy who did those things; but he just had, and somewhere, something sneaked into his mind that Boibeder holding him like that hadn't been as bad as he'd feared it would be; that Boibeder's arm round his naked shoulder had been almost nice, in some dreadful, forbidden, way. And being told he was `beautiful' and given that chaste little kiss had been almost rather, he hesitated, trying to find the right word and settled for `comforting', hadn't it? "I'll certainly have a very pleasant dream, Ash," Boibeder said as Ash hid his nudity under the concealing duvet, "I hope you do as well." If `anything' was going to mean letting `that sort of stuff' happen, Ash thought as he drifted off to sleep, perhaps it wouldn't be too bad. As long as it was just that and not things that boys like him, real boys not poofs, because he wasn't one of those, proper straight boys like he was, wouldn't do, couldn't do; yeh, he could manage that: not too much of the naked stuff though, just now and again, so he could keep his side of the deal. His hand slipped, unbidden, down to his hardening groin. Why was it getting hard? Ash didn't want it to get hard, didn't want to think about the possibility of it getting hard because he'd just shown it off, been stared at naked and told he looked beautiful. Nice boys, good boys, real boys wouldn't stiffen up because they'd been admired naked; by a girl yes, but not by a man. He forced himself to let go of it, to think of anything, anything that had nothing to do with sex, sex of any sort, and slid into safe, comforting, sleep. Boibeder lay quietly, waiting to hear any telltale sounds of young Ash dealing with what Boibeder hoped would be a fully erect young cock, but he heard nothing. He'd noticed the slightly fuller equipment on the boy when he'd climbed into the upper bunk, and he smiled to himself in satisfaction. He knew he could have taken the boy while they were together in his bunk. A hand slipping between them would not have been welcomed, but it would have encountered no resistance. That same hand could have moved down the boy's back, cupping a tight, young buttock and easing their groins together. Ash would have let it happen, Boibeder knew the boy would be terrified of being dumped, left in France alone, and would give up his cock to avoid that from happening, but Boibeder wanted more than that, he wanted the boy as a regular, willing bed partner, and he wouldn't get that by forcing him. Ash needed to be led into wanting to give his cock, and, Boibeder gave his lips a mental lick, not only his cock, not having it taken against his will. Unlike Ash, Boibeder did dream of sex. The morning, Boibeder dreamt, would be different. In his dream he woke early, about half past six, and slipped quietly into the small bathroom to shower and shave. He returned to the still dark cabin, though a grey rather than black, dark. He could make out the shape of Ash in the upper bunk as he made his naked way across the cabin. At the bunk he quietly moved the ladder to the upper bunk so it was level with where he guessed the middle of the boy's thighs would be and softly climbed a couple of steps so his waist was level with the bed. He admired the sleeping boy for a moment or two, both admiring the young face and slender shoulders that were visible above the quilt but also assessing the boy's position. Gently he lifted the quilt away from the boy and eased it down till Ash's equipment was exposed. Ash was lying half on his back and half on his side, so his groin was open to view, his soft, uncut cock lying idle across one ball and down to just touch his thigh. Boibeder leaned forward and took the boy's limpness in his mouth, relishing the feel and taste of boy after such a long time. One of Boibeder's greatest pleasures was bringing a boy up hard in his mouth. To take the limp, softness and feel it swell on his tongue, growing and hardening to its youthful glory. To do it to a boy who was still sleeping and imagine the dreams that passed through his mind as his cock was eased into growth in a warm, wet cavern, was a mental and physical near orgasm for Boibeder. Slowly he felt Ash's delight stiffening in his mouth and he gently started to suckle it, increasing its hardness and bringing a small moan from Ash as his own sudden dream became more intense. The little, involuntary movements of the boy's body, a slight easing forwards and backwards of his hips and a slow stretching of a thigh told Boibeder that Ash was moving from sleep to wake, that the boy's body knew it was experiencing fellatio for the first ever time and was sending messages to the brain. Experience told Boibeder that now was the time to accelerate, to add even more feelings to the young flesh he was already delighting so that when the young mind woke it would demand a continuance. He reached out his right hand and stroked the thigh nearest him, a silken smooth length of boy perfection, slender and curving from the knee, swelling so gently as it reached the top and Boibeder followed the contours with his seductive hand. A sensual overload opened Ash's eyes and his brain to the sucking and stroking and realisation came as his eyes focussed on Boibeder's head as it gave him wave after never known before pleasure as it sucked his rampant cock. The hand stroking so lovingly at his thigh was both another sensual delight and a calming, comforting reassurance. He was not being raped, he was being physically adored. It never even occurred to him to demand it stop, that he was a good boy, a straight boy and he didn't do these sorts of things with men. It did occur to him that it felt good, no, it felt wonderful, and that if this was where `anything' was taking him then it was ok by him. What he did not want to happen was for Boibeder to stop. Ash was a boy, and boys of his age spunked in the mornings and Ash wanted to spunk. He wanted to shoot his load and he wanted to do it while his cock was out of his control in a warm, wet heaven. Boibeder, knowing Ash was now his, moved his stroking hand up the boy's thigh until he reached the smooth balls that lay between them. Softly he kneaded them for Ash while he continued sucking him. He knew Ash hadn't wanked last night and probably not since yesterday morning, and his young balls would be full of cream panting to get released. The feeling of fingers that were not his own, teasing and kneading his sac moved Ash rapidly to climax. "I'm gonna shoot," he muttered in warning as he felt his spunking build down deep. He never dreamed Boibeder would keep his mouth there, that he'd even increase his sucking and ball playing knowing Ash would spurt soon. Boibeder too, had felt the warning signs of cum on the way. The tightening of the boy's balls, the extra hardening of the cock in his mouth, the tenseness gripping the young body as sperm burst free from their storage and rampaged up the four and a half slender rigid boyinches to erupt in his mouth, filling it with the essence of boy as the cock jerked hard three or four times, then twitched again and again as it ejected the last drops. Boibeder welcomed the teenage cream into his mouth, holding and savouring it as he milked out the last little dribbles before allowing it to trickle down his throat. He kissed the softening tip and looked up at Ash and smiled. "Morning Ash," he said softly. "Hope you liked your alarm call." Ash shut his eyes and without thinking, nodded. His brain was trying to come to terms with the reality that he'd just been sucked off by a man, and he'd loved it. Those first post orgasmic moments, Boibeder knew, were vital with a first time boy, and he was under no illusion that this was anything other than Ash's first time. Left alone the boy could well feel guilt, come down hard from the super high of his induced cumming. He might even resolve to never do it again, and that was something Boibeder had always tried to prevent. Let the boy know he was special, that he was appreciated and that he'd been wonderful. "Thanks," Boibeder said, looking the boy in the eyes. "That was fantastic, thanks." And he put his head on the boy's hip so his lips were just brushing the rapidly softening boycock. He stroked the boy's delicious thigh again to emphasise just how much he appreciated being allowed to do what he had done. Ash let out a long, slow sigh and muttered, "Shit," in the way boys do when they can't describe what they feel. Boibeder kissed the now soft flesh and moved away, putting a hand on Ash's waist and looking again directly at him. "Time to get up, dressed and out for breakfast." Then he smiled, "Well, your breakfast, anyway. I've just had mine," he paused, then added, "And it was absolutely delicious," said with a big grin. Ash could do nothing but grin back. "Glad you enjoyed it." He didn't know why he said it, but he realised he actually meant it! It had been a shock to wake with his cock in a man's mouth, his exposed, naked body stroked by a man's hand and then to have that hand and mouth build him to a climax that the man had swallowed with evident grateful pleasure. The morning ejaculation that would normally have been squirted into a tissue which would have been screwed up and semi-guiltily flushed away had instead been pumped into the mouth that was sucking him, savoured and swallowed. The man had eaten his essence, the fruit of his orgasm had been enjoyed, not wasted, and the man had thanked him for it! Yes, of course Boibeder had sucked him because he wanted to, because he wanted his cock, Ash knew that, but he also knew, or thought he knew, that part of the man's pleasure had been in trying to make sure that Ash enjoyed it as well. Did Boibeder have the faintest idea just how much that meant to an unloved and fugitive boy? Could he even begin to understand what it meant to Ash that he'd not just made him cum, but eaten his cum as though it was the most valuable and delicious food in the world? Ash had just had his first ever sexual experience, but it didn't feel like sex to Ash. Sex was when he wanked, thinking about sticking his cock in some fantasy girl's slit and then flushing away the evidence. Kids at school had talked dirty about their random encounters and how good it was to fuck a girl, but they had no idea just how good it was to lay naked for a man, to be sucked and stroked, to know that the man was doing all he could to make you feel good, to feel wanted. Ash hovered around `to feel loved' but he didn't go that far, going there was dangerous, no-one loved Ash. No, this wasn't sex, this was some sort of amazing sharing and Ash hoped against hope that there was more, that he wouldn't be cast aside now he'd been given a glimpse of what might impossibly be. That was the dream, but even as he was dreaming it, Boibeder knew reality didn't work like that; and when he woke he knew with total certainty, that if he did what he'd done in his dream, he'd lose the boy for good.