Date: Mon, 06 Oct 2003 01:02:11 -0500 From: Tony Tiger Subject: Stranger in the Castle Three weeks had slipped by since I had first met J and our relationship had broadened into as happy a friendship as could likely be established between a 14 yr-old boy and a middleaged man. Quiet by nature he was also amusing and could expound on any subject, but was informative rather than seeming to be lecturing in any way. Boys are strangely perceptive by nature and I could sense that I could learn much from him that would be both useful, as well as interesting, and I had no hesitation is asking about many things I was puzzled about. My knowledge of things sexual, like most young teenagers, was extremely limited and often erroneous. He freely described the details of anatomy of both men and women and the incredible variety of the forms of relationship between them including lesbian and gay behaviour. He told me of the many fetishes that existed, some of which drew a predictable "Yuch" from me. He said I should never criticize or condemn any behaviour in others however revolting I might think it. He even pointed out that many would consider his (obvious to me ) passion for boys in shorts both deplorable and even disgusting. He quoted a phrase I have always remembered. "Nothing is evil but thinking makes it so". His passion or fetish whether evil or not, had full rein in our sexual encounters. Fairly early on,sensing he wanted it, but was reluctant to ask, I had shyly asked if he would like me to suck him. My previous experience having only been a rather clumsy slurping with my schoolmates. He coached me gently in the techniques of using my tongue on the glans of his well-formed seven- inch prick while fondling his balls with one hand and stroking his thigh with the other. Considerate as ever, he had insisted on pulling out of my mouth the first few times he ejaculated but again I knew he would have preferred it otherwise, so I once pushed his hand away at the last minute in a firm signal that I wanted to let my mouth receive his cream. I was unprepared for the flood of semen that ensued and nearly gagged. He was concerned and told me spit it out; I made an effort and after several swallows lay there gasping for breath with a some of his thick slightly salty, chalky cum still running out over my bottom lip and onto my chin. I can hardly ever remember being totally naked with him. He went to a conference or meeting in Paris one day and brought back several pairs of what the french call " un slip", a tiny bikini-style man's brief in a thin silky material. He made me wear one under any of the many pairs of shorts with no liner that he insisted on buying for me and often I just wore one alone around his apartment when we were doing other things. I asked him one day rather clumsily what he did for 'work'. He laughed at the phrase and said not much as he had inherited a very large sum of money and was what people would call a dilettante,dabbling in any of the arts or hobbies that took his fancy. I found I had to be careful for if I ever admired something such a model sailboat in a shop window, I would find he had bought it by the time I visited the next day. I had also to leave most of my clothes at his flat to avoid explanations to my aunt as to how my wardrobe had expanded so suddenly. We went out a lot that summer: to the zoo, afternoon matinees at the theatre and many of London's tourist attractions. He was always dressed immaculately in summer suits and I in light hot- weather clothing with very brief shorts. On many occasions when he noticed a man continually staring at me he would make a point of patting my bum and making sure the man would notice his hand lingering there fondling me for a few seconds. Now and again while sitting in the park he asked me to put one foot up on the bench to allow the leg of my shorts to gape and afford the voyeur a view of my thin undies and what they contained He was a master of self-control or 'coitus prolongatus' as it is technically called, the art of extending one's orgasm by sheer willpower. I tried to learn the first beginnings of the skill which was impossible for a boy with his sap running like wildfire. Sometimes he would suck me gently and when he could see I was on the very verge of letting go, stop for a minute and start again. If I reached down to finish it off he would slap my hand with a stern 'No' and roughly pull it away but when my hips and legs were writhing with a screaming desire for deliverance he would at last let my adolescent spasms have their way to disgorge in his soft mouth. Sometime during every visit he would softly say "come here a minute boy" which became almost a code signalling a prelude to sex and would then lead me to the sofa or into the bedroom to lie on his huge bed. After a steamy bout of sex he would often rest with his head in between my open legs or lie alongside me with his warm still-wet prick either in between them or in my shorts. One day or 'that day'as I remember it, things were very very different...... On arrival he insisted that I have a large glass of sherry before lunch. He seemed keyed up and nervous and had three or four martinis himself and later several glasses of white wine with the little egg and savoury pies I learned were called quiches.He had given me, before lunch, another large glass of sherry which seemed much stronger and fiery than the first. When we had finished eating I retired to the sofa and he to his favourite armchair where he sat in silence for a while, smoking one of his black Russian cigarettes. I finished my drink as I was wondering if he was cross about something I had done or said and was about to ask him when he said "Come over here a minute boy".It semed that everything was back to normal.How little I knew. I walked over to him, a little unsteadily. but instead of taking me to the bedroom or the sofa he said he had bought me some special new undies and asked me to go to the bedroom and put them on. When I got there I found on the bed a pair of primrose coloured stepins, as women called them, with no fly opening. They were made of thin soft silk with a delicate border of white lace on the very wide legs; I found out later they were known as french knickers. I pulled them on very carefully amazed at their lightness but puzzled at the lace edging on the legs. I returned to J stood in front of him and asked if they looked alright. A hot day, he had a small fan whirring on a table which caused the flimsy material to flutter gently around my thighs. He stared in fascination at them for the longest time and said "Boy, I know people who would pay a fortune to see you standing there wearing those". He made me sit on an ottoman,a velvet covered bench like a long footstool, so my bum was right on the edge and the backs of the silk legs could fall away. I was confused, what with the woozy feeling the sherry had induced and the unfamiliar beginning to our normal routine. He stripped slowly never taking his eyes off me and knelt in front of me. He parted my legs and buried his face in between my thighs. I could feel his lips move slowly from beneath my balls and on into my parted cheeks which he gently licked. Suddenly his tongue was wetly probing and then entering my virgin hole.I was still wearing my undies but the wide short legs were no obstacle to him whatever. He made me lie back on the ottoman and put my feet up on the edge.From out of nowhere I could see him produce a small vial like an eye dropper and felt him insert it gently into me. He must have squeezed the bulb carefully as I felt a little warm liquid slowly enter me and spread. "This is balsam oil" he whispered " it will help prevent too much pain". Even with calming effect of the alcohol that I was completely unused to, my senses started as nature's protective mechanisms kicked in; fight,fly or surrender.Here was the crucial decisive moment that I known and feared would be on me some day.I had seen a nature programme on Africa only the day before and had empathized with a lioness,pursued,hounded and savaged slightly by a rutting male but seemingly knowing that the acceptance of her fate was what she had been designed for.I knew I could have said no and that he would have stopped but I found that I wanted it so without a word or gesture I braced myself and did exactly what the lioness did....I surrendered. The invader was suddenly at the gate,my flimsy pants were wide open, the drawbridge was down.The sentries of my bumcheeks fought bravely knowing the cause was lost, but were overpowered;the battering ram forced its way past the guard and smashed through the portcullis;the castle defences were breached. The pain was sudden,sharp and intense and I couldnt help emitting a loud 'oooooowwwww' but a hanky was instantly thrust over my mouth muffling my cry. I faintly heard J say "Its okayitsokayitsokay". For a moment I felt betrayed;I could see it had all been carefully planned ;the sherry( laced with brandy perhaps),the balsam oil ready and even the hanky at hand to still my expected scream; all designed to quieten me while my innocence and virginity were ravished. J was motionless, the head of his prick just but definitely inside me;the hurt had diminished slightly. Could this really be J,who I had grown fond of?. Could he really be blamed?. Was this the end of the world? I managed to relax slightly even though I still felt both kinds of hurt neither of which had gone completely away. He must have felt the beginning of my acceptance and my resistance weakening as he thrust gently letting another inch slide in. He paused, pushed again and paused again.The pain was still there but only in my bruised and violated sphincter. On and on,a thrust,a pause,another and yet another until I suddenly felt the touch of his hips on my inside thighs and his balls in the cavity under my buttock cheeks.My colon was full to seeming bursting with his hot fleshy rod. The castle keep had fallen.It remained only for the invader to hoist his flag. J leaned forward putting his arms around me and his lips on my still gasping open mouth. The touch of his hot flesh completely inside me massaging my prostate along with the pressure of his stomach muscles on my stiffening prick under its thin silky covering caused an ecstatic feeling I had never known before He moved back slightly and then forward again.Withdrawal,invasion, again and again in slowly increasing speed.At times it almost felt that he had pulled out completely but my bruised sphincter told me otherwise as he rammed back in again to the hilt. J's lips were sucking on mine in a frenzy; his tongue thrusting in time with his hips;faster and faster he ruthlessly pounded while my legs,free of the ottoman now,were flailing in mid air and my neck jerking and my arms flapping helplessly at my side. With three or four colossal thrusts everything was suddenly still. Everyone sometime who has waded waisthigh in the sea, must have braced themselves for a large incoming wave only to be staggered on its arrival by the unexpected power of the tons of water.Its relentless and irresistable power and force seemed identical to my sensation as J released torrent after torrent into the inner sanctum of my fortress.I knew that an orgasm of my own had secretly soaked my and J's stomach as well as the filmy cloth between them.J's practiced ability to prolong his ecstasy was evident as there was a distinct pause between each boiling gush. They semed to go on forever. I remember little of the rest of the day. J carried me to bed where I slept until almost dark then dressed me and took me down to the taxi he had insisted on.He smiled slightly and hugged me as he said goodbye and whispered "I love you boy". Still sleepy and exhausted I murmured something and couldnt quite comprehend why he semed to freeze and stare at me while his eyes filled with tears as the door closed and the taxi pulled away.Only when the taxi got home did I recall exactly what I had said in reply.. "I love you too Dad".