The CFMS Programme
This little, totally fictional, story is intended for amusement purposes only, but if you don't like the idea of men and boys playing games together then you will not be amused – so don't read it. You shouldn't read it if you're not supposed to either, but we all do things we're not supposed to, don't we. You have been warned though.
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The CFMS Programme
A story by Ivor Sukwell
I do hope that the way this little entertainment has been written and presented is not too confusing to the reader. It's not confusing to me, but then I did write it and it would be a bit disastrous if it did confuse me, wouldn't it.
There are three main protagonists in the story: an unnamed Government Department who are represented by this typeface;
A seventeen year old boy who is represented thus;
And a boy of fourteen thus.
One section of the story is intended to represent a surveillance recording of events in the room of the older boy and contains words and pauses only with no description of events. However, I am sure your imaginations can supply the missing details.
"There has been some progress and some success, although it is far too early to be able to say anything for certain other than as yet, that we can say nothing for certain."
"Very illuminating," the Director smiled thinly. He was used to such reports from the Research Section, it was their way of saying they needed more money to continue researching. "Is there a chance that you could tell me what success and what progress?"
"It is, of course, essentially hypothetical at this point in time," the Head of Research smiled ingratiatingly, the smile of someone who is academically far superior to the person he is speaking to, and far inferior in terms of importance and pay grade, "But one thing that we can say for certain is that there is no such thing as a `gay gene'. That is not to say, of course, that genetics are in no way involved in the ultimate determination of sexual preferences, a considerable degree of research would be needed before we can be definitive about that, but all indications are that such preferences are chemically determined rather than, to use a very loose and unscientific phrase, `inborn'."
"Fascinating," the Director made little attempt to keep any hint of irony from his voice.
"You will, of course," the Head of Research continued, oblivious to the irony, "Be familiar with the concept of pheromones. Not that pheromones are a concept, of course, they are very real; you only have to observe the reaction of a male dog to a bitch in heat, though the male could be some considerable distance away, too far, in fact, to be able to pick up the scent even with the considerable nasal ability of the canine species."
"I have heard of pheromones," the Director sighed.
"Excellent," the Head of Research beamed, "Because what we appear to be dealing with here is some sort of super, but very subtle, form of that very thing. For want of a more scientific term, because as yet our research is far from complete, we have named this super-subtle chemical , CFMS. Now, it would seem that the CFMS that is given off by a person varies according both to age and sex; thus the CFMS from a boy of ten will be different from that of a boy of fourteen, and that would be different from that same boy were he to be seventeen and not fourteen, and, naturally, all would be different if the subject under consideration were to be a girl and not a boy."
"And what, exactly, is this CFMS?"
"Ah, now that we can't tell you, not exactly, that is, because research has not progressed far enough for us to be in any way definitive."
The Director restrained himself from rolling his eyes to heaven and instead asked for the words that CFMS were an acronym for. In his position he was used to acronyms and used, also to not having the slightest idea of what they stood for, even when he knew the full words, but he was Director and he wanted to know.
"CFMS is the term we have come up with to describe the matter we are researching," the Head of Research smiled, more knowingly this time. "It is completely unscientific but we feel that, for the moment at least, it is a meaningful description."
"Do tell me," and this time the Director made no effort at all to conceal the sarcastic nature of his request.
"CFMS," the Head of Research said, amused by the appropriate, if very unscientific nature of the acronym, "Stands for the `Come Fuck Me Smell."
Suddenly the Director was interested, very interested.
"You mean that every human being puts out a unique CFMS?" he asked.
"That we cannot, as yet, say. What we can say is that, for example, a boy of fourteen will emit a CFMS that defines him as a boy of fourteen and that he wishes to be sexually active. And, further, it also carries information as to the nature of his desired partner, whether that be a specific girl, any girl or woman, or, indeed, another boy or male of any age, again, specific or general."
"Now that is interesting, very interesting indeed," the Director conceded, and was not at all sarcastic. "How far has your research got along these specific lines?"
"Covert Operations have expressed an interest," the Head of Research divulged, "And are conducting a trial at the moment. What we have found, you see, is that, although we do not yet know for certain how CFMS works, we have been able to isolate certain chemical involvements and create those in laboratory conditions. The purpose of the trial is to see if our attempts to incorporate those elements into a perfectly ordinary substance, say, for example, a mars bar or a cigarette, will successfully transfer those elements from that substance to the person of the consumer of that substance and so affect the chemical make up of their natural CFMS. Thus, again for example, could we, by feeding a particular strain of CFMS to an aggressively heterosexual late teenage male, have him appeal to, in this instance, younger teenage males."
"Would your spiked mars bar make the older male want to fuck a younger one or would it simply seem to younger ones that he was wanting that?"
"This we do not yet know; the purpose of the trial really."
"I see," the Director mused, "And your subjects are, I assume, volunteers?"
"Not exactly," the Head of Research beamed, "Covert Ops have selected one James Edwardson, the son of Mathew Edwardson, a person gaining some popular notoriety with his, to use the phrase of the less reputable press, `Gas the Gays' movement."
"Typical Covert Ops," the Director sighed.
"James is seventeen, attends one of the country's more expensive schools where he is currently Head of House, Captain of Hockey and plays at centre for the First XIV. His extra-curricular activities include a dedicated pursuit of the barely upper school girls at a nearby educational establishment."
"So if it works on him............"
"It should work on anyone," the Head of Research finished the Director's thought.
"Keep me informed," and the interview was over.
`Fuckin' hell, look at those legs!' He blew smoke out from his mouth carefully so as not to make too much of a cloud. He was smoking out of the window of his study and it was unlikely anyone would see him, but he shouldn't be smoking at all and the Housemaster would not be pleased if his Head of House was caught smoking from his study window. `Good job it's rugby term, wouldn't be able to see fuck all if it was hockey. Rugby shorts are much shorter.'
It was only after he thought that he realised what it was he was thinking. `Fucking hell, what the fuck's the matter with me? They're fucking boys down there and I'm looking at their fucking legs, for fuck's sake!' He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, took another drag on his cigarette, poked his head out to expel the smoke and looked at the boys again. `Too far away to see anything properly; pity, that. Oh, for fuck's sake!' he mentally cursed as he realised that, yet again, he was peering to see the distant boys better.
He wished he had some field glasses and then remembered that he did have, grappled open a drawer and pulled them out; back at the window he focussed and sighed happily at the much better view they gave him.
`Oh, yes, look at that one!' He concentrated on a solidly built boy of fourteen – they were all fourteen except perhaps for one or two who still had a month or two to go before reaching that milestone – whose legs displayed full, firm and well-muscled thighs, swelling enticingly before disappearing from view inside his black rugby shorts.
`Can get a proper look now,' he congratulated himself, `And no-one think it at all odd, Head of House checking out the lower school before I get to pick the House team.'
He moved the glasses from boy to boy, searching for the legs he liked most, mentally grading them as he did so, until he picked out one and moved the glasses no more.
A tall, for his age, slender creature who had legs far too long for his body; he'd just reached that point in adolescent development where the only word to describe him was `coltish', all leg and not much else. Long, slender, curving thighs that just went on and on and on until they reached the hem of his shorts, shorts that were no shorter or longer than those of any other boy, but seemed to reveal so much more skin.
`Oh, fuck, yes!' he breathed, out loud this time for the thought was too intense to remain a silent one, `Would I like to get my hands on those!'
Suddenly he tore the glasses from his eyes and hurled them on his bed. `What the fuck!' he mentally screamed, `What the fuck's the matter with me?!! I do not want to go to bed with a fucking boy! And where the fuck did that thought come from? Not been thinking of going to bed with them, just looking at their legs, that's all. Bad enough looking at boys' legs, but go to bed with one? No way! Christ, I'll be wondering what their cocks are like next! You need a cunt, my son,' he told himself, `Far too long since you've had one. Must be a week now; pressure of sperm on the brain,' he grinned at his understanding, a perfectly sensible explanation for looking at boys' legs, simply wishing they were girls. Like that one last week from St. Mary's; she'd been fourteen as well and still tight as they come, though he knew for a fact that his was not the first cock she'd had up her.
Relieved that he'd got things sorted, he sat down at his desk and shoved a mars bar in his mouth and hardly noticed that he wondered if that's what a boy's cock would be like, and if that boy with those amazing long, slender thighs had a cock that matched them and if he was cut or uncut.
"Some progress, Director," the Head of Covert Ops reported, "Our agent in the school reports that the subject has been displaying some, until now, unusual, shall we say, inclinations."
"Agent in the school?" the Director raised an eyebrow, "You've placed an agent in the school?"
"Not specifically for this operation, no," Covert Ops smiled, "We have at least one agent in every major school as a matter of course; never know when knowing what a boy gets up to may come in useful somewhere along the line."
"Ah, yes, of course," the Director nodded, understanding. These schools catered for the sons of the great and good, from all sorts of different countries, and indeed, who did know when a titbit of information may prove to be useful in certain circumstances.
"Young James, it seems, has developed a new interest, specifically he has been observed on several occasions recently taking a lot of interest in lower school boys while they are engaged in rugby practice. Using field glasses from his study window, it seems."
"Has he indeed? And this is definitely a new interest?"
"Oh, yes," Head of Covert ops enthused, "It emerged directly following his smoking of a particular cigarette. He has since consumed a mars bar, but we have no reports on any effect that may have had as yet."
"And is his interest merely a general one, or does it, perchance, have an individual focus?"
"Mainly general, it appears, but there is one individual that our agent suspects may have a particular appeal. He wondered if a suitable dosage of CFMS to that individual might proceed matters."
"And the individual concerned?"
"A fourteen-year-old, son of a bishop, who has, incidentally been making a wave or two in opposing gay marriage."
"Very well," the Director agreed.
"Research has already provided a suitable version of CFMS, in a soft drink this time. The individual will probably consume it sometime today."
"Very well," the Director said again, "Do keep me informed."
This was weird. He'd gone, just as he always did after a games session, to the House tuck shop to get himself a soft, fizzy drink. It wasn't that he was terribly thirsty after games because he never did much in the way of games. For rugby he mostly stood out wide on the wing and ran up and down a little, hoping that no-one would throw him a pass, and they almost never did because they knew he'd only drop it if they did.
No, it was because if he spent ten minutes having his fizzy drink then most of the other boys would have showered, changed and gone before he got to the changing rooms. And it wasn't that he didn't want to have a shower, not that he had any choice there because it was a House rule that you had to, or that he felt particularly shy about being naked, and up until a few months ago he'd have been in the showers just as quickly as the others.
What had changed was that, in those few months, the other boys had all grown hair down there, even the ones who were a few months younger than him, and he didn't yet have one single hair at all. It wasn't so much that the others teased him about it and called him `Baldy', he could cope with that, but recently one or two had been a bit less kind and had been suggesting that his lack of hair was a bit less than just natural late development, and because his long, slender, curving thighs were innocent of even the faintest hint of fuzz, they'd started wicked and hurtful rumours that he shaved.
Perhaps if his cock had been slow to grow as well no-one would have taken any notice, but that was not the case. True it was just as slender as the rest of him, but in soft length he had more hanging there than almost every other boy. There were a couple of black boys who had more, longer and thicker, and there were some Asian boys who had no more signs of hair on their legs than he did, but they all had plenty in the other place.
It wasn't as if he couldn't spunk either; he'd been shooting sperm when he wanked for much more than a year, and he suspected that perhaps some of those that teased him were a little behind in that aspect of development.
That wasn't what was weird, though, that was an everyday thing. No, what was weird was that he was sipping coke and eating crisps when he'd gone to the tuck shop to buy a Seven Up and no crisps. When he got to the tuck shop it had been the Housemaster there and not the Matron as it always was, and the Housemaster had said, "Ah, Peter, you'll be wanting a coke." as though he knew it was always a coke he had, and how he knew that was a real mystery, except that, because he was the Housemaster he probably knew everything. And when he'd explained that today he fancied a Seven Up for a change the Housemaster had seemed a bit confused for a moment and then told him that he did have one bottle of coke in the chiller that was out of date today, and because he really shouldn't sell it and because of that he could have it for free.
Now that was really weird because you never got anything for free, but because his funds were somewhat limited, he'd taken the offer and used some of his Seven Up money to buy some crisps. His father was a bishop and always going on about how one should help the poor, but he clearly did not regard his son as being one of the poor, insisting instead that he should learn to live within his means, however limited those means may be.
Now he was sitting here, drinking coke and eating crisps and wondering why it was that Edwardson, the Head of House, should be looking out of his study window watching them every time they had games now. And not just idly watching, but watching them through field glasses.
Of course, the other boys had noticed it as well, and the general opinion seemed to be that the House XVI would be chosen shortly and that Edwardson was just too lazy to go outside and watch from the touchline where he might get both cold and wet. And that was probably what it was, nothing more.
He took another swig of his coke, emptying the bottle, and had a sudden thought that Edwardson was not watching them play rugby at all. He was watching, but he was watching one person in particular, and that one person never got involved in the game because no-one ever passed the ball to him.
He had a thought that if Edwardson was watching just him, then he didn't mind at all, Edwardson could watch and look as much as he wanted and he almost choked on a crisp, because that thought brought another thought with it and that was most certainly not a thought that the fourteen-year-old, well brought-up son of a bishop should have!
He leaned out of his study window having another cigarette. He was smoking too much, this was the third today and it was all the fault of that bloody kid with the luscious legs. It was safe now, though, because it was dark and there were no boys to look at. No boys to look at!!!! What the fuck was he thinking!! Okay, so he'd looked at a fourteen-year old boy's legs, so what? What he'd really been thinking about was the simple fact that it was nearly ten days now since he'd had a fuck and that boy's legs had kept reminding him of that, every time he'd looked out of his window and seen those slender, curving thighs it reminded him he needed a fuck, nothing more, nothing else.
They were luscious legs though, better legs than anything on any of the cunt he'd been in had possessed. They were mostly fat and floppy where this boy's legs were long, slender and firm, the sort of legs you'd love to have wrapped round you when you went to work with your cock.
Holy, fucking shit! Was he thinking of fucking a boy now? That was just sick, perverted and disgusting! No way could he ever do a thing like that!
And somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he heard a soft, cynical chuckle. He'd go down to supper now and he would not notice the boy, would not even look at him and that would prove he didn't want to fuck him, wouldn't it!
He brushed his long, wavy, ash-blond hair carefully, arranging it so that it framed his elfin face; he even brushed his teeth, squirted deodorant under his arms and even bit his lips a little so they went red and puffed up a bit, and why he did all that he had no real idea.
Of course he wanted Edwardson to notice him, but what he didn't realise was that he was trying to make himself into a boy with more than simply long legs, legs he was convinced that were the reason why Edwardson stared at him through field glasses. Why anyone should want to look at his legs he really didn't know, but he was convinced that looking at his legs was what Edwardson was doing, and something made him want to make the rest of him worth looking at as well.
That thought he'd had, the one he shouldn't have had, didn't return, well, not too openly, perhaps because it was `that sort of thought' and well-brought up sons of bishops don't have thoughts like that, and certainly big, strong, athletic Heads of House would never have a thought like that about him anyway.
What did occur to him as he made his final adjustments to his hair, was that perhaps, just perhaps, it was a pity Heads of House didn't have such thoughts.
Whatever else, what you must not do is in any way acknowledge that Peter Chalmers exists, he told himself. It's perfectly alright to look at his legs; it might even be acceptable to think that they are very nice legs; even, though this was stretching it a bit, that they were better legs than he'd ever seen on any girl. What he must not do, not in any circumstances, was to allow himself to wonder if they stayed just as nice all the way up, after they'd disappeared from sight under the boy's rugby shorts. And he must never, never ever, wonder what there was between those legs when they reached up as far as legs can go, because wondering that would, without a shadow of a doubt, be gay, and though he didn't go as far as his dad and think all gays should be gassed, he was in no doubt at all that a good kicking would do the world of good to them.
So, ignore Peter Chalmers, pretend he didn't exist and if he was, for some reason, forced to speak to him, he was `Chalmers' not `Peter', never `Peter'. No boy at the school called another by his given name, to do so would arouse suspicions of unseemly intimacy.
The boy was there now, at the serving counter getting his supper. Alone. Was he always alone or was it just a chance happening and other boys would be coming soon? Or perhaps they were already here and once he'd got his meal he'd find their table and join them.
Fuck! He was better looking by far than most, if not all, the girls he'd shagged; that long, ash-blond, curly hair – he'd never noticed that when he'd been studying the boy's legs – and those wide, red lips!
Ignore him, don't stare. Ignore the fact that he exists, that's the only way to deal with it, though what `it' was he wasn't sure, but it needed to be dealt with.
The boy had his food and was glancing round, looking for somewhere to sit and eat, looking for his friends probably, but he didn't seem to spot any. He's coming closer now, going to walk right past where I have my table. Ignore him, ignore him, ignore him.
`Hi Peter,' he said, `Join me if you've got nowhere special to sit.'
Fuck! How the fuck had that come out of his mouth? Done now, have to make the best of it, Head of House being generous to a lower school boy; he could get away with that.
The boy smiled, the sort of smile that if it had been a girl that smiled it he'd have been dead certain his cock would be in action later and he smiled back, his special smile, the one with one eyebrow slightly raised that said `Anytime you want.'
The boy thanked him politely and sat and, because he felt he needed to say something, start a conversation, he said that he'd noticed him watching their rugby practice, and that he couldn't have been worth watching because he was no good at games.
`I expect there's something you are good at,' he heard himself saying, and when the boy said he really wasn't sure, his mouth said that he hoped they'd be able to find out soon, very soon. The boy said that he hoped so too and he was sure the whole of the dining hall must be staring at them and it was really hard to eat because he couldn't swallow properly, and it was boy he wanted to eat, not fishcakes and chips.
"The event appears to be proceeding in a satisfactory manner," Covert Ops reported to the Director.
"My Division is delighted with the results so far," Research added. "Three doses were inserted into Subject A, but only one into Subject B, but reports indicate that both are reacting in an appropriate manner."
"Subject A?" the Director enquired.
"Ah, that is James Edwardson, aged seventeen," Research elaborated, "Subject B is Peter Chalmers, aged fourteen."
"And the reason for the difference in dosages?"
"That was partly due to the age of Subject A, and partly because it was felt that, owing to his known sexual activities, he may have a considerable amount of CFMS of a natural nature already present, and thus it may require a greater dosage of our material to overcome this and alter the CFMS he is transmitting."
"Our agent reports that the trial has all the hallmarks of being successful," Covert Ops gloated. "Subjects A and B have already made contact greater than the norm for their circumstances, and should the matter continue in this manner then there is every likelihood that Subjects A and B will, fairly shortly, be progressing in the direction of becoming Subject A plus B."
"And, should that event occur, I am assuming that you have already considered the possibilities of this CFMS in matters of national security?"
"Very much so, Director, I can assure you of that."
"Excellent," the Director permitted himself a very small smile, "Keep me informed."
That thought, the one he shouldn't have, was coming all the time now and he didn't even try to stop it anymore. He'd had a wank after that supper, the one when James asked him to sit at his table; and yes, he did call him `James' now, and James called him `Peter'. It was against School rules of course, so they only called each other by their given names when there was no-one else around, and that meant at supper because he always sat with James now, for three days, so it was obvious that James wanted him to sit with him and it was the highlight of the day for him.
He wanked every time after, and it wasn't easy having a wank in a room with three other boys. He couldn't just grab it and pound it up and down, whispering `James' while he was doing it. No it had to be done carefully and without a sound, but he'd found a way of doing it and it worked well. He `d lay on his side, grip just the head between his first two fingers and thumb and sort of twiddle and doing it that way there was no movement of his bedclothes so the other boys would have no idea he was wanking.
It was a strange way of doing it, but it worked; the feeling built up slowly but once it got going it was so intense and because it wasn't properly in his hand it was almost as though he wasn't doing it to himself and he could easily pretend it was James doing it for him. Even better when he discovered that if he just twiddled his foreskin, and he had a long one of those so he could do that easily, it took absolutely ages and his cock seemed to swell so much it felt like it was going to burst and he had to be really quick with his handkerchief when his spunk finally came because it really did shoot out and the very last thing he wanted was to have spunk stains on his sheets.
He so wanted James to be able to look at much more than just his legs; he'd even thought about wearing nothing under his rugby shorts so he could at least feel that he was trying to offer James more than just half a leg to look at, but he didn't dare because if he had to run, and he sometimes did, then it would hang out from below his shorts and that would be wonderful if it was only James watching, but there'd be all the other boys as well and he knew he wouldn't just get teased about it.
He wished there was a way he'd be able to let James see all of him and somehow he knew James wanted that as well; it wasn't just him being silly and thinking thoughts he shouldn't think, he could almost smell what James wanted when they were together eating supper. That was silly, though, because obviously you can't actually smell something like that, but it really did seem that way.
The weirdest thing of all was that he'd actually stopped trying to stop thinking about Peter. He wasn't just a boy with luscious legs anymore, he was Peter. He did have luscious legs, not fat and flabby like a girl's legs, but firm and slender and, from what he'd been able to see through his field glasses, smooth as well.
He got hard just thinking about those legs – he was hard now; hard and thinking about running his hands up the firm, slender, curving smoothness of Peter's legs, on and up and up, all the way up till there was no leg left to feel and the only place left for his hand to go was onto cock.
Yes, for fuck's sake, he was thinking about feeling a boy's cock! And why shouldn't he think about it? With legs like that Peter must have a wonderful cock, whatever a wonderful cock would be like, Peter's would be it! What would it be like to feel it and hold it and squeeze it and rub it and make the spunk squirt out from it? What would it be like to suck it? Yes, fuck you, suck it! And I don't give a fuck, world, if you think I am sick wanting to do that with a boy's cock, it's fucking Peter's cock and I want it in my mouth, I want it spunking in my mouth; I want to taste his spunk and eat his spunk and when I've done that I want to do it again and again.
Fuck! I am sick! And I don't fucking care! I want a boy who's fourteen years, two months, three weeks and two days old in my bed, and yes, I have fucking looked up his birthday, and when he's fourteen and three months I'm going to buy him a present and I don't give a fuck what any of you cunts out there think. So there!
And it's not just his cock I want, oh no! I want his arse as well. I want to get my mouth in there and eat his arse and I know it's going to be better than any fanny I've munched at, and I've had a fair few muff-burgers believe you me. And yes, I want to fuck him, and if you think that's sick, wanting to fuck a boy who's fourteen, two months, three weeks and two days old, well, I don't give a shit what you fucking think. I don't give a toss if I am a sick, perverted, queer, faggot or whatever you want to call me, I don't fucking care! Get that? Understand? You want to gas me, father? Well, fuck you!
Know what I'm going to do, father? Well, I'll tell you. Sunday is when Peter is fourteen and three months, and I'm going to take him out in that nice, yellow, beautifully restored Lotus Elite you gave me for my birthday. What you think of that eh? And you know where I'm going to take him? That nice little cottage on the Downs, that's where. That's right, your cottage, the one I got keys to; the keys I got copied just in case there was some bit of cunt I wanted to shag somewhere nice and quiet. Didn't know that, did you? Well, fuck you! And when I've got him there I'm going to fuck him, and I'm going to fuck him in your bed.
Like that idea? Well, you'll like this bit even less, because when I've fucked him and eaten all his spunk I'm going to ask him to be my boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend. Oh, no, he's not just some casual fuck, oh no. Not just a passing phase, oh no. I'm fucking crazy about that fucking boy and I don't give a fucking shit what you think. So shove that up your gay-hating arse!!
I guess that's it now, isn't it. I've said it. Well, to myself anyway, and I'm the only one that matters. Well, not the only one because Peter matters, but you know what I mean. At supper tonight I'll ask Peter to come to my room. It'll be alright because his room won't get checked until half-nine so I can have him to myself for the best part of three hours, and I'll probably be all weak at the knees or something all the time, not because we might get caught or anything because I'm Head of House and my room is never checked, but it's not going to be like spending three hours with a girl and I'm going to be nervous as shit in case I get anything wrong.
I can hardly believe it! At supper this evening James asked me if I fancied going to his room after, and spending the evening with him until check-up time! Did I fancy it?! I wanted to kiss him there and then! Yes, I know that sounds gay, but that's probably because it is. I know my father would have me in the confessional for hours on end if he knew – he's High Church by the way, so goes in for confessions and stuff – but I don't care. My heart went all fluttery and my stomach sort of rolled over and I felt as light as a feather. And that smell thing was coming off James so strong I'm surprised that no-one else seemed to notice it. But, to be honest, I don't care if they did because it wasn't meant for them, I knew it was all for me.
I was a bit worried, and told him that, because if we got caught it could be bad. He'd lose Head of House at the very least and we could both be expelled, and I had this horrid thought that because James is seventeen and I'm only fourteen he could get put in prison or something terrible like that.
Yes, I know you can't get put in prison for just wanting to look at a boy's legs, but I'm absolutely certain that James wants to do more than just that, and even if he doesn't then I do!
He must have known what I was thinking because he told me not to worry and if we did get caught he didn't care what they did to him because he'd have spent three hours alone with me and that would be worth anything they could do to him. Then he told me that if the worst did happen then he'd say it was all his fault and he'd made me go to his room because no way would he ever let anything bad happen to me.
And I told him that when I was with him the only things that could possibly happen to me were good things, and he sort of lifted an eyebrow at me and we both giggled and I'm sure he knew what I was thinking of.
I've dashed back to my room to change because I want to look good for him. I'm going to wear a pale pink tee shirt that I've got but hardly ever wear because pink is a bit of a gay colour and not what you wear around school; and I'm going to put on my rugby shorts so he can look at my legs. Yes, I know that's a bit wicked, and it's even more wicked that I'm not going to wear anything at all underneath them.
I don't care – I want to be wicked for James.
"I know it was only last week that we met, Director, but the event would seem to have proceeded even more rapidly than we anticipated, and, I may say, rather more intensely as well."
"In a satisfactory manner?"
"Oh, very satisfactory, Director. Perhaps the best thing would be for you to listen to the recordings we have. They are, how shall we say, a little explicit, but then, in a matter of this nature one cannot expect over-much delicacy."
"Naturally Subject A's room has been bugged, Director. Until now we've picked up nothing of importance, just a few expletives, some quite violent, but this one, as they say, brought home the bacon. And Subject A was kind enough to give us two other locations that we have been able to bug as well."
"Very well. I promise not to be too shocked."
"Unfortunately we were not able to fit video in the first two of the locations, but I'm sure that the conversations and sounds will leave you in no doubt as to the efficacy of the operation."
"I suspect that my imagination will stretch far enough for me to be able to visualise the nature of events. Put it on."
I thought you were never coming.
Sorry, James. I didn't mean to keep you waiting. I just wanted to look nice for you, that's all.
You always look nice. But you've put your rugby shorts on; was that for me?
Course it was, silly. I know you like looking at my legs.
You don't mind that, do you? Me looking at your legs?
Don't be daft; I love it. Look as much as you want.
I might want to do more than just look! But you mustn't let me if you don't want me to. I promise I won't do anything you don't want. But you do have fabulous legs and no way can I promise to keep my hands off them if you sit as close as you are now.
I don't think I want to move. And James................and this is going to sound really silly........and you can tell me to fuck off and go away if you want..........but you like girls, don't you?
Did. Not so sure now.
This is really hard to say...........never said anything like this before..........never even thought I'd say anything like it...................and you'll probably think me a complete pervert or something................but........just for this evening..............if you want.........you................you can think of me as a girl if you want to and I won't think it daft of you or anything or ever tell anyone I promise cross my heart I won't and if you want to pretend I'm a girl I really don't mind cos I'm sure you'd much rather have a girl here that you could do things with and you've only got me to make do with and I wish I could be a girl for you so you could do those things to me and if you don't say something quickly I'm going to cry and run out of here.
Come here. No need to cry. That's it, cuddle in really close and tight. God, you feel wonderful. Just having my arm round your shoulder............magic. Your hair is amazing, so soft and silky.
I washed it before supper. I wanted to look nice for you.
You always look nice, and not just your legs.
You've got a thing about my legs, haven't you.
You guessed. They are, without doubt, the most wonderful, luscious legs I've ever seen. They look so incredibly smooth.
They are smooth. Not a sign of a hair on them. I think I'll be like fifty or something and still have hairless legs. You can check if you want. Oh God! James! No! Please don't stop! Oh, God! I've wanted you to do this for so long! Your hand...............wonderful. More........please. Oh, God! Yes, James, yes! No, don't stop there go higher go as high as you can................go all the way up. Oh, God YES! Please, that bit as well! Feel my cock, James. Hold my cock! Oh yes, please James, all the way off. Oh, that's better. I've been wanking every night dreaming of you doing this! Of being naked for you. Oh, God, that is so wonderful! Do anything you want to me. Anything. Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh. Oh, God. Oh. Oh, James!
I think I know a boy who likes being sucked.
Oh, yes James! It's incredible. I never dreamed anything could be as good as this!
Nor me. If I'd known having it with a boy was anything like this, then you would most definitely not have been my first.
Am I? Am I really your first?
You are. And you're fucking wonderful. Bollocks to girls now. You're better than any girl I've had, and I really mean that. Come here.
Oh shit! Oh, God! Your tongue in my mouth! Unbelievable. I've never been kissed before. Can we do it again?
Got to suck you again. Your cock is at least as lush as your legs. Come here, cock, come and get sucked.
Is it alright? My cock? I'm sorry it's got no hair, but it just hasn't grown yet.
Far more than alright. From now on I might even ignore your legs if I can get at your cock. And I just love it smooth. Don't you dare let any hair grow on it, understand? I want it smooth and I want it loads...........I want to feel it and wank it and suck it and rub it all over my face and make it spunk and spunk and spunk.
You can, and you never have to ask first. Just do it.
No hair, remember. I do not want to suck hairy balls.
Oh shit! James! Oh, fuck!
Mmmm. Nice balls. I want you to feel mine. Will you?
Oh, yes please. I was scared to ask. Oh wow, that is huge.
Not much longer than yours.
But it's so much thicker. And you've got all that hair. Oh, God, I love it in my hand. So hard and soft at the same time. Does mine feel like that to you? Can I try sucking it please?
Careful, no teeth. Swirl your tongue round it that's it. Don't try to get it all in. Peel the skin a bit with your lips yes, like that now swirl your tongue again. Perfect. Stop now. You don't want a mouthful of cum.
Who says I don't?
Do you? Okay then, let's do it like this that's it now we can suck each other at the same time. It's called a sixty-nine.
Oh, Peter, your spunk tastes delicious.
So does yours.
I need a cigarette. Is that alright with you?
Course it is. Anything you do is alright with me. Haven't you worked that out yet?
Sort of. I guess I just haven't dared believe it.
Better start believing then. Can I have a cigarette as well?
I didn't think you smoked.
I don't. But I didn't suck cock till just now either.
Better put your shirt on so you don't get cold.
Do I have to? I like being naked for you so you can look as much as you want and feel me as well.
Thanks, Peter. I spose you've worked out that I'm just a tiny bit fond of you?
Sort of, but I haven't dared believe it.
Better start believing it then, you cheeky sod! Have to blow the smoke out the window, don't want the room smelling. Now, something I want to ask you.
Sunday's your fourteen and three months day and I'd like to take you out for the afternoon. We can go for a ride in my Lotus, up to a cottage my disgusting father has on the Downs, and then we can.......well, I guess you can work that bit out.
You know my birthday?
Course I do. Will you come?
And I had intended to ask you something very special then, but I'm going to ask it now.
Will you be my boyfriend, Peter? Please?
Yes. And can I ask you something?
Course you can, dafty. You're my boyfriend now.
Do you want to fuck me? Please say you do, James. I want you to fuck me.
Come here. Oh, shit, you kiss better than any fucking girl!
Girls are all wet and sloppy, like kissing a wet lettuce. Your lips are so firm, and your tongue...........oh shit! Kissing you is nothing at all like a wet lettuce.
What's it like then?
Like kissing a boy, the best, most yummy boy in the world. Fucking crazy about you, Peter.
Good, cos I'm crazy about you as well, James. Should we have that cigarette now cos it's quarter past nine already.
Fuck! Is it?
"I feel there is no need for me to be subjected to further material, though you will, naturally retain all such material for further use should that prove necessary."
"And with regard to, what I suppose must be referred to as Subject A+B, what plans have you there?"
"That immediate matter is in hand, Director. It appears that there has been an unfortunate incident in the room shared by Subject B and it seems that it will be unsuitable for occupation, at least until the end of the current school year. Three of the occupants have been satisfactorily transferred to accommodation in other Lower School rooms, but such accommodation has not been found for the fourth boy. Subject B has, therefore, been moved into the room occupied by the Head of House, it appears without protest."
"So they can fuck each other for another two and a half terms. Very well. May I congratulate both Research and Covert Ops on a very satisfactory outcome to this experiment. And for the future?"
"A place has been arranged for Subject A at Oxford," the Head of Personnel informed the meeting. From there, and providing that he maintains his current interest in boys of fourteen, it is proposed that he should find a suitable placement in one of our better schools where he may indulge his interests and locate further suitable subjects for what we are codenaming the CFMS Programme. Subject B will be the spearhead of that Programme in the autumn of next year. A US Senator will, we understand, be visiting this country in some absurd search for ancestral roots. As it happens, he has not been very friendly with regard to our interests in the Pacific Rim, and there is a possibility that Subject B may prove influential in altering his opinions."
"Very good. Excellent, in fact. Proceed as planned."
"This is a transcript of the first of what Subjects A and B plan to be monthly emails, Director. Naturally, not all the information contained therein is new to us, but, nevertheless, I felt it may be illuminating for you to read it."
"Thank you, Covert," the Director extended a hand for the typed transcript, "All is proceeding as anticipated, I trust?"
"In many ways, yes, Director, although in one area I think I may say, slightly beyond expectations."
"Is that good or bad?"
"I leave that to you to decide, Director. In my opinion it opens up a possibility for development that we had not taken into consideration."
The Director looked at his Head of Covert Operations and decided that his expression indicated that he should read the document in his hand before requesting a further explanation.
"I take it that you wish me to read this before asking you for the precise nature of your opinion? Very well."
Hi James. What I really wanted to start with was how much I miss you kissing me and sucking me and eating my arse and, more than anything, fucking me. The feeling when you pushed your cock slowly into me was so amazing, so incredible, and I loved having you deep inside me and fucking me till you spunked. But I thought if I said any of that you'd think me a silly, soft girl, so I won't say it. Hehe.
So tell me, what's it like at Oxford? I don't suppose you've been lucky and found a room with a nice, tasty fourteen year old boy in it, but I really do hope you've found at least one boy to fuck there. I know you and I know your cock, and your cock needs to be inside a boy's arse on a regular basis or it won't be a happy cock. You can have my arse anytime you can get here for it, you know that, but it is fifteen now and you may not want it now it's that old, hehehe.
But seriously, you must tell me everything about Oxford because I really do want to know absolutely everything and not just the full details of the boys you've fucked.
It's been really quite exciting here, well, exciting for School anyway. They had some sort of policy change and made a new sort of semi-prefect position – Assistant Head of School with responsibility for Lower School, and, guess what, THAT'S ME! I don't know why; Housemaster did say that because I'd had to spend almost a year sharing a room with you I would have a good idea about the responsibilities and stuff like that so I was the obvious choice, but really all I learnt when we were sharing were the responsibilities a fourteen year old boy has to his seventeen year old boyfriend hehe.
Anyway I got given my own room! And I thought fantastic, cos I could really go for it when I was wanking and thinking about you, and I made the most of it and wanked at least four times a day for the first week. I don't wank at all now though. No, I haven't caught religion – my father's a bishop, remember, so I'm immune – I've got a boy! And no, he's not a replacement for you, he's thirteen, one month and two days old; he's four foot, eleven and three quarters tall; his cock's four and one eighth long and four and a quarter round it's thickest bit, which is half way down the shaft. He's uncut, of course, thank goodness hehe, and the head is really slim, no bulging ridge like yours has got. He did have about six hairs, but he's shaved them off now, and, of course, he can spunk. YUM YUM! Hehe.
Oh, and he's got really black hair and blue eyes and really white skin and he sucks magic and I fuck him every night. Yes, I FUCK HIM! And now I know why you liked fucking me so much hehe.
I bet you're wondering how I got him, aren't you. Well, it wasn't cos of his legs cos I'd never even seen his legs lol, no, it was the smell. You know, THAT smell.
Third day of term in the hall for supper and I smelt it, really strong, almost as strong as you used to smell, but I had no idea who it was coming from, so I did a tour of the hall, like you used to do, asking if everyone was okay, and I spotted Soren (that's his name, lol) sitting a bit away from other kids and I knew it was him making the smell. Asked him why he was on his own cos I knew it wasn't cos he smelled, cos no-one else had seemed to notice it, but he just shrugged and scowled a bit. So I told him that tomorrow he had to sit with me for supper (cos he's fucking lush to look at hehe) and he didn't have any choice about it cos I was Assistant Head of House and it was an order. Well he did, and the smell was still there and he kept looking at me a bit funny like, and he never said a lot, just that he was finding it a bit difficult to fit in cos everyone else came from really posh families and his family weren't posh at all.
I said I didn't give a fuck about his family, and I don't, and my father's a fucking bishop and what could be worse than that and he grinned. Anyway, Housemaster called me to his study and asked why Soren was at my table and I told him the kid was finding it hard to fit in and I was trying to help him and I thought he was an okay kid.
Housemaster said he knew the boy was having some problems and how would I feel if he was moved from the dorm into my room, just for a bit perhaps, and I thought that might make wanking a bit awkward, but he was giving off THAT smell. So I said okay.
Well, you are NOT going to believe what happened! You know the very first thing he said when he moved in? He just looked at me and said, "You want to fuck me, don't you."
Well, I think I bruised my chin on my knee! I just stared at him with my mouth open and he shrugged and said, "It's okay, I've been fucked lots of times, never by a boy though."
And I just said, "So have I, but I've never done the fucking."
He giggled and told me now I could and I asked him if he kissed, cos you know how I like that, and he said course he fucking did and did I want him to prove it!
It was after supper when he moved in so it was only about ten minutes after that and we were in bed with our tongues stuck down each other's throats.
He wanted to know why I was bald and I told him that was how I was when you first got me and you liked it that way, so I shaved now and he said didn't that give me problems in the showers. Well, it doesn't does it, cos I don't have to have showers with the other boys cos I have my own and he asked if that meant he would be able to use it as well cos if he did he'd get rid of the few that had started growing on him cos men liked it better when a boy was smooth.
Men! Yes, men. Well, he only had one to go on and that had been one of his teachers at his prep school, but apparently he'd told him that men knew they were really in for a good time if a boy was smooth.
Well, I've never thought before about doing it with a man, but Soren said I ought to try it because it was just out of this world. He reckons men really know how to make a boy feel amazing and I told him that you were eighteen by the time we last fucked and that you used to eat my arse and stuff, and Soren said that was only just a starter and wait till I got done by a man!
He's okay about doing it with a boy now though, hehe, and I fuck him every night and some mornings as well, now we've got hold of some proper arse lube. He likes to spunk at least five times a day, and, of course, I always eat it and he eats mine when it don't go in his arse. We get on really well hehe.
Anyway, as I said, I've never thought about doing it with a man before, but I am wondering about it now. I was in Polly's having a coffee – being Assistant Head of House I'm allowed into town when I'm free – and there was a guy in there having coffee as well and I smelt the smell. It wasn't strong like Soren was giving it off and I only got a very faint whiff of it when the guy looked in my direction, but it was definitely there.
He's, I don't know, about forty or something, about the same as Housemaster I guess and I did wonder what it would be like to get fucked by him cos my arse hasn't had anything in it since you and I could do with a good fucking. Soren is take only and that's okay cos we agreed, bit like us, that older fucks younger.
Anyway, the guy was there again the next day as well – I go to Polly's every mid-morning break – yes I know it's expensive but the mean bishop has coughed up a few more quid now I'm fifteen – and I caught that faint whiff again. He spoke this time; seems he's American and is here trying to trace some family roots; staying at The Crown for a month and pops into Polly's most mornings for coffee. He was in there yesterday as well and the whiff was a lot, lot stronger and he was quite chatty.
Oh well, see what happens, I suppose.
Write soon, I want to hear all about those Oxford boys hehe
"Interesting," the Director commented, "No doubt there has been some follow up?"
"Naturally, Director. With regard to the thirteen year old boy, and we did congratulate our agent on his prompt action there, his parent runs a small chain of hardware stores in the midlands, and really the boy should never have been sent where he is for his education, utterly out of his comfort zone. We can see no use at all for him in terms of, shall we say, leverage, but there are aspects of him that may be very useful indeed. We have accordingly classified him as Subject C.
Equally naturally, we have located and contacted the teacher at that boy's preparatory school, informed him that we are aware of his proclivities, that no action will be taken against him and that should he happen across another boy with similar inclinations to those of Subject C, we are to be informed immediately so appropriate observations may be instigated. He has also, naturally, signed the Official Secrets Act.
With regard to our target, we are delighted that contact has been made by Subject B without our intervention, and, given the events that have so far occurred in that regard, which were all observed, naturally, by an agent, the target will have, today, imbibed a dosage of CFMS, labelled "40/50-15" with his coffee. The reactions of Subject B and the influence of Subject C have led Research to believe that no further CFMS need be administered to Subject B."
"Very good, Covert, very good indeed. I look forward to reading the reply from Subject A when it becomes available."
Hi Peter, Wow, things are going for you, aren't they! I think it's totally magic that you're getting that lovely, long, slender cock of yours inside a boy and totally jealous that he's thirteen! He must be an absolute delight to fuck and I'm really pleased for you. He sounds delicious and I'm not surprised you've given up wanking hehe.
Doing it with a man sounds interesting; I'm a bit old for that now, I think, but if I hadn't been so stupid when I was your age I reckon I'd have been up for giving it a go. You must let me know how that goes and what it's like if you get lucky.
As for Oxford, well there's lots of boys of course but I haven't been able to make much in the way of inroads into them as yet. First few weeks very busy here, settling in and stuff and, of course, all the boys are outside of college so one has to go looking for them, not like School hehe. I have managed to suck the spunk out of one, but it was a cut one and sixteen as well, so I haven't looked for it again. It was okay, but nothing like yours, and, of course, it had a whole fucking forest of pubes so it wasn't anywhere near like the one you're sucking now.
And my room mate is a dedicated fanny chaser, so can't even talk about boys. Boring. There is a skate park not too far away, out of the centre where the College is, but I can easily bike there and I'm popping out there on Saturday to check it out. Who knows, might get lucky.
Sorry there's so little to tell you, hope there's more next time.
"I think, under the circumstances, this is about all we could reasonably expect," the Director handed the transcript back to Covert Ops, "Subject A is clearly maintaining an interest that suits our purposes. We should not expect too much until he has graduated and been placed in a suitable educational establishment. Anything he unearths before that time should be considered as a bonus. Anything to report in the matter of our primary target?"
"Indeed, Director. Research were most interested in Subject B's transcript, in what, Subject B refers to, as `The Smell'. They were surprised that Subject C appears to have been transmitting CFMS in such large quantities without artificial intervention and they would like to get their hands on him for some tests."
"Presumably nothing that would harm the boy? We do really need him intact and untraumatised in order to ensure that Subject B remains firmly in our clutches."
"I understand that they feel they could obtain valuable information from a simple medical, blood tests and that sort of thing, and a psychological assessment, the sort of thing that his School might refer him for in an attempt to resolve the nature of his integration difficulties."
"Very well, authorised."
"Research will be grateful, Director. With regard to the target, Research were very surprised that he appears to be transmitting any CFMS of a nature that Subject B should have been able to recognise. There is absolutely no evidence that the target has ever shown any interest of an even remotely sexual nature with regard to boys, indeed with regard to males of any age. They wonder if Subject B may, through physical appearance possibly, have some characteristics that may be mis-interpreted as being of a female nature. You will recall that, in the first recording we made of his intimate relationship with Subject A, he did state that he wished he were a girl for Subject A in order to initiate sexual activities."
"The same pretext could be used as for Subject C. They share a room, and an investigation into Subject C's integration problems could easily include an assessment of Subject B, for, if you like, confirmatory evidence."
"Even before the target had ingested our version of CFMS, which, as you are aware, is a simple variant on the one given to Subject A, and should, Research insists, really be named IWTFYS, and yes, Director, that is an acronym for
`I Want To Fuck You Smell', he was exhibiting an unexpected interest in Subject B, and that interest has now developed in a manner that I'm sure will be very much in the interests of the State."
The Director raised his eyebrow and took the offered transcript.
Hi James, Millions of tongue down your throat kisses hehe. I know it's only two weeks but I couldn't wait another two to tell you. I've been done by a man! Yes, really, honest. Wasn't easy though, I had to seduce him hehe.
I better tell you all of it properly cos I know you'll want all the details, and you'll probably wank yourself silly by the time I finish hehehe.
I told you about that American and how I thought he wanted to chat me up, well, sort of wanted to but not properly if you know what I mean. Like he sort of fancied me but didn't think he should. Well, the next time I went to Polly's and he was there the smell was really, really strong and I knew he wanted to but he was going to need a bit of help to overcome the `didn't think he should bit'.
So I started the conversation and asked him how his search for his ancestors was going and he must have some clues as he was staying here for a month and he wouldn't be doing that unless there was a reason. He got quite excited and said he was just about certain that his lot came from some village round about and I said it was pretty easy then as if he knew their family name all he had to do was check the churches.
He said he had, but it wasn't that easy as lots of the churches didn't have graveyards going back to the sixteenth century and he was sure his lot had gone to America in the time of the first Elizabeth.
Well, that was the perfect opening, wasn't it. This is father's diocese and I told him I knew just about every church in it cos I'd been dragged round them all as a kid and a lot of the vicars knew me. We only had to go to the ones that had been around back then (churches not vicars hehe) and I was sure if I smiled nicely at them the vicars would dig out the records. He just jumped at it didn't he and I said I could be free on Saturday and if he had a car we could drive round quite a lot of them.
So I turn up on Saturday and it's still warm so I'm wearing that pink tee shirt (bit of a tight fit now) and shorts, NOT my rugby shorts, the other ones hehe, and I'll let you guess what I had on underneath hehe.
Well, we'd done a few churches and he hadn't even given the hint of making a move so I thought I'd try to hurry things on a bit. I took him up some really tiny lanes onto the Downs and when we'd found a well quiet bit I asked if I could have a cigarette. He gave me a bit of a look and said I shouldn't be smoking at my age and I gave him a wicked grin and said there were a lot of things I shouldn't be doing at my age, especially as I was the son of a bishop, but that didn't stop me doing them.
And at last he did something! He put a hand on my knee and said he thought I was a well nice kid and in case he moved it I put my hand on his hand and told him I thought he was pretty nice as well.
After that it was dead easy. He gave my knee a squeeze and I gave him a look that said I knew what he was thinking and he actually asked just how wicked I was. I said that as he was the one trying to find things out he'd better do some exploring if he wanted to know the answer to that and up his hand went, right on up under my shorts. He looked well surprised when he found only me under them hehe, so I just grinned and said I could be a lot more wicked than that and how wicked would he like me to be.
He said `very wicked' and his voice was all sort of husky and the smell was coming off him like crazy. We got in the back of the car – one of those Lexus four by four things with darkened rear windows – and I got my shorts off for him. He made a few grabs at my cock, and that, as you can imagine, was well hard by now, and he seemed a bit surprised about my foreskin; he even asked if it was normal for a boy not to have it cut off as a baby, can you believe it? Cutting off one of the real treats a boy has to offer? Hehe.
He mashed my cock about for a bit but he didn't really have a clue what to do to a boy so I dragged him onto me and kissed him. Took him a few seconds before he opened up, but once we had tongues in each other's mouths he warmed up a bit. His face was a bit scratchy, but after a bit I found that okay and helped him along a bit more by going for his zip. He seemed a bit hesitant about that as well, so I got a bit dirty and whispered to him that it had to come out if it was going to go in (yes, really, hehe) and eventually he undid things and dragged his jeans and boxers down enough. Bigger and fatter than yours, but cut, but, hell, it was going in my arse and my arse needed cock! Leaking like crazy hehe and that was just as well cos he hadn't brought any of the things you should bring if you're going to fuck a boy. It was leaking enough to sort of lube up my hole, and, for fuck's sake, I even had to do that for him! And I had to guide him and help him when he eventually tried to put it in.
Shit, Soren had said there was nothing like getting done by a man, but this Yank didn't have a fucking clue!
Anyway, he got that fat, cut head lined up with a lot of help and then just started to shove. Nothing gentle or subtle, just a shove. I had to help him again or it was going to hurt like hell, I mean he hadn't even opened me up a bit first, not even a finger. I felt the outer sphinctre opening a bit; I know it's ages since you last fucked me, but at least that bit remembered what to do hehe, and I did the shitting thing so the inner one opened as well and his fat cock popped inside.
It did hurt! But I never made a noise cos if I let him know it hurt he'd have stopped and I'd lose out on a fuck, and you know how much I like getting fucked hehe.
Once it was in he gave a sort of grunt, held still for a bit and then went fucking wild! He did grunt that my arse was a million dollars better than his wife's cunt, and then he set about making the most of it hehe. That Lexus must have been bouncing up and down like crazy!
I did tell him not to spunk in me cos that'd be messy, and he got it out in time to squirt on my back, then he just sagged back into the seat and sat there with his fat cock all glistening with spunk and arse juice.
When he'd recovered enough to get a fag in our faces I told him it weren't bad for a beginner and now he knew what to do then next time he could really have some fun. He seemed a bit surprised that I should be up for a `next time' and I told him there was no way I was going to let that big, fat cock of his off with just one go, and I was free tomorrow if he was interested hehe.
I told Soren all about it and he reckoned that the poor sod had only ever had cunt before, but now he knew what boy arse was like he'd get better at it well quick.
He did as well hehe. I spent all Sunday afternoon in his hotel room, and I did do the girl thing. Told him to treat my arse like it was a bit of fifteen year old fanny, and you know what, the poor sod said he hadn't been near one of those since he was seventeen and all he ever had now was his wife's cunt and that was as wide as a subway tunnel!
He did it a whole load better this time, no rush. He even gave my arse a really good eating out and reckoned that good, hard, boy tits were loads better than than the floppy things his wife had and he never got his mouth near those anymore but he'd be happy to eat mine all day.
And Soren is dead right. Doing it with a man is fucking great. It's well different from doing it with a boy. With boys it's just having fun together – don't get me wrong, no way am I giving up boys, I fucking love it with boys, well, with you and Soren anyway, not tried any more, YET hehe, but I'll open up my arse for a man any time now. You just give yourself up to it, let him do anything and everything. He even licked and kissed under my arms and you won't believe how sexy that is! And when he's on top of you! Oh wow, just the weight of him pressing you into the bed when he fucks you that way.
And what he did to my legs! You know how much I like having my legs seen to and he licked every inch of them from knee to the top. Really, ALL OVER! And when he kissed and nibbled a bit at the inside part I just went crazy.
He fucked me three times that afternoon, and he'd done his shopping so he could leave it in me when he spunked, and once I'd got him to suck he gobbled five loads from me and ate them all. Honestly, it took Soren ages to get me hard enough to get up inside him when I got back to School.
If I get to see him again before he goes I'm going to take Soren with me, I bet he'll really go for that.
Loads of wet, sloppy kisses hehe
"That would appear to be satisfactory," The Director carefully placed the transcript on his desk. "And the outcome?"
"We had a brief meeting with the Senator in London, before he returned to the States. We hoped he had enjoyed his stay here, and that his researches had proved fruitful. All his researches."
"He did get somewhat aggressive; for some reason he seemed to be labouring under an impression that we had intentions of, not to put too fine a phrase on it, blackmailing him. Naturally we dissuaded him from that impression and said that we simply hoped that he may come to view a certain aspect of Foreign Policy in a different light and that, should he wish to return here at some point in order to further his researches, we would be delighted to afford him every possible assistance. In all matters.
The Senator, as you will be aware, Director, is somewhat forthright in his opinions and has no inhibitions when it comes to making those opinion known. He asked, that should he feel the need to return, we were implying that he could fuck as many boys as he wanted and we'd do nothing about it.
We simply told him that we wouldn't even notice, but that if he found any difficulties in acquiring suitable boys then we would be most willing to assist. His exact words were," Covert Ops consulted a notebook, "You telling me that if I come back, say in six months to discuss a certain matter of foreign policy with your people, I could get to fuck those two kids again." We replied that we felt that three months would be a better time scale and he said "Deal."
We parted on most amicable terms and when we shook hands he said "I like the way you guys do business and you can bet your ass I'll be back."
I'm assuming that there is a transcription error in that last part because, as far as I am aware, the Department does not own any donkeys."
"I assume this has all been classified?"
"Absolutely, Director; under the one hundred and fifty year rule."
"Excellent. A study group, please, to see what best use can be made of Subjects B and C. I suspect they could be very useful to us. Very useful indeed."