Warning: The following is a work of fiction and does not relate to any real person or event. It describes explicit sexual activities between adult men and young boys. If this is not what you are looking for, you have no excuse for reading any further. If it is, then enjoy!

 

 

THE PORN BOYS

 

by

 

Cosmo

 

Chapter 8: A Love Like This

Zhukov was so high ranking in the Moscow Police that he was privileged enough to have a chauffeur driven car at his disposal -- a sleek black shiny sedan sporting diplomatic plates. Zhukov had his driver drop us off, and when we got in, we decided to call it a day. It was late when we got back from the restaurant. It had been a long day and we were both tired.

I sent Yura to his room to wash up and get ready for bed, while I went into the ensuite bathroom of my bedroom to do the same. When I emerged, switching off the light behind me, I was confronted by the sight of Yura laying on top of my bed. I stopped and stared at him. He was already naked and he was reclining with one arm up around the back of his head, his little dick stiffly sticking up in his crotch and a mischievous smile on his face. His smooth, lean preteen body laying there on my bed was a beautiful sight. But I hesitated a moment because it was clear to me that he wanted to play and it had not been that long since his little performance in the restroom at the restaurant. He had made me cum so hard, I wasn't even sure I wanted to play any more tonight. But my ambivalence was short-lived. He fixed me with one of his longing, come-hither stares and smiled, then looked down at his crotch, drawing my gaze down simultaneously. With his other hand he was tantalizingly drawing back the skin of his little boydick between his thumb and forefinger, and he did it in such a way that he wanted me to see it. He exposed the pink head of his stiff little dick and left the skin drawn back. Then, letting go, he flexed his little dick a couple of times and watched it waggle up and down on its own. He had such a beautiful little dick, long and thin and infinitely suckable, and it complimented his body perfectly. But he didn't stop there. He swung one of his legs out to the side, exposing his boyhole, and he stroked his little pucker lightly with his fingertips, in soft, circular motions, stopping to prod it ever so gently, indicating that he wanted something in there. God, he was so sexy. My hesitation was quickly subjugated by my weakness for him. I stopped in the middle of the room and stared right into those pretty eyes of his -- those magical cobalt-blue eyes that held so much mystery and wonder -- and I knew that I would always be a slave to this little boy. I would always be a victim of my love for him. My heart was filled with such deep affection for him, and he was just too beautiful to resist.

He gave me a cheeky grin and pulled back the covers on his side of the bed. He got into bed, making sure he was well snuggled under the comforter. Then, he lifted a corner of the bedclothes for me to get in. That was such an affectionate and mature gesture. In one swift action, I slipped into bed naked beside him and into his welcoming arms. I drew the bedclothes up around us both and pulled him to me tightly, feeling the smooth, silky warmth of his hairless little body next to mine. He cuddled up to me lovingly, rolling on top of me, his little arms embracing me tightly. I could feel a tangible heat coming from his tiny frame. His hot, hard little dick was jutting into my abdomen, the unmistakable reminder of his irrepressible horniness. He was planting resounding little kisses all over my chest and I kissed his head. He was panting short, hot breaths as he kissed me, nibbling on my nipples and burying his face into the side of my neck. The urgency of his little boy lust was apparent in the way he held me so tightly and rubbed his little dick against me quite hard with quick, rhythmic thrusts of his pelvis. He was stabbing his hard little dick against me so impetuously it was almost as though he was trying to fuck me. His little boydick was burning hot and so stiff and engorged it was like a little rod of iron. Briefly, I recalled what Anton had said about Yura being addicted to sex, and I wondered how true that was. He was certainly very demanding, and seemed to be horny all the time. I held his head and lifted it from my chest, so I could look at him.

`Hey little buddy, slow down.'

He hesitated a moment, quite surprised that I had stopped him in the heat of the moment. I held onto his head, brushing his hair back off his face, and he looked at me with a flushed and slightly bemused expression. Then he broke into a smile and just collapsed onto me. He cuddled me, perhaps conceding that there was no rush. He fidgeted around for a while, finally settling with his head resting on my chest, and we both just lay there in a prolonged boymoment, blissfully happy, not really feeling the need for conversation.

Cuddled together like that under the bedclothes, we were very warm, and pretty soon his little hand reached down towards my crotch and, even as he lay there under the covers, started playing with my cock. He was squeezing it, massaging it and yanking it down and from side to side. I was almost instantly hard. The sensation of his little hand on my dick was stimulating enough, but he was such a little fuckboy that he knew exactly how to manipulate my dick for maximum stimulation. A couple of times he rotated it down quite hard and it hurt -- it hurt but in a good way. When I winced, he chuckled.

His sweet head disappeared under the covers and I waited for his hot little mouth on my cock. He licked it up and down, applying copious amounts of spit until it was dripping with his saliva. Then he threw back the covers, exposing us both, and quickly mounted me, his slender, hairless legs astride my pelvis, the fleshy inner part of his thighs hugging my hips, and leaning over me with his little hands pressing into my chest hair. I could feel the heat of his hot little boycunt incubating the underside of my cock as it lay flat against my abdomen, pressing into the natural groove of his perineum. He reached under him with his little hand and clumsily connected my hard-on with his boyhole, raising himself up so he could fuck himself onto it. He was single minded and without hesitation, and knew exactly what he was doing. It was pretty clear that he had fucked in this position many times before. But he was patient and methodical. He bore down on my cock slowly, feeding it into his boyhole a little at a time. He shifted, adjusting his knees slightly, and bucked his hips, rotating his pelvis to ease it into him. I could feel his tight little boycunt swallowing my cock, the burning heat of his abdomen enveloping my shaft inch by inch. As he did so, he gave a few token yanks on his own little boydick, which was still as hard as wood and sticking straight up towards his navel. He screwed up his eyes in ecstasy as he did so, savoring the moment, and obviously enjoying the sensation of working this big dick up into his little boycunt. God, he was so into it.

When he had finished inserting my cock into him and it was fully inside his little cunt, he sat there for a few seconds and steadied himself. His warm little body was adjusting to the invasion, propping himself up on my chest with his arms and his legs spreadeagled across my hips. I looked down and saw this gorgeous kid impaled on me, his little hairless body with my big hard, throbbing cock buried deep into his pelvis. God he was so infinitely fuckable. I was a lucky man.

He saw me admiring him, taking in the beautiful sight of the little preteen body that was straddled upon me, and he smiled. Leaning over, he whispered into my ear.

`Your cock feels so good in my little ass.'

I smiled affectionately, then pulled down his sweet head and kissed him.

Then he got down to business, slowly raising himself up so he could fuck his little body onto my shaft, rising up and down and impaling himself hard onto my engorged cock. He fucked himself so hard onto my cock I was shocked that his little ass could take it after the punishment it had received recently. But he was loving it, head thrown back, eyes closed, his little tongue sticking out with effort and concentration. At the same time, he steadied himself with one hand, and with the other he was pulling roughly on his own little dick which was dagger hard, and which he was deliberately pushing down into my abdomen as he bore down on me. What a technique he had!

`Yeh, I need this,' he was saying, `That feels so good.'

And as he did so, his little hands sought mine. He clasped each of my hands, interlocking his little fingers with mine, and pressed my arms down onto the pillow on either side of my head, as though forcing my surrender. I was in a position of total submission, at that moment pinned to the bed by his little body, but all the more incapacitated by the sweet sensations his body was eliciting from my cock. And as he rode me like that, he was uttering the usual dirty talk.

`Fuck my little ass Mark. Fuck your cock into me real hard.'

Except it was really him that was doing the fucking. Somehow, the vision of this little boy riding on my cock like that, his little high-pitched voice begging for my cock up his little ass... it was just too much. In no time at all I could feel my orgasm rising. It felt as though my cock was growing thicker and thicker, inflating in his tight little ass as he pumped it to an ecstatic climax with every rise and fall of his body, until eventually it exploded. It really did feel like it had burst open in the most pleasurable way.

`Oh yeh, fuck your spunk into me!' he exclaimed, just as the first volley was pumping into him.

As I was cumming, I thrust my hips upwards, stabbing impetuously into his little cunt as hard and as deep as I could, and my spunk was shooting into him like rapid-fire, filling his little chute with scalding hot liquid. Even as I was doing so, I moaned out loud, `Oh baby boy!' nearly tossing his little body up into the air. But he held on, rode it out, and even thought to put a little hand over my mouth to stop me crying out too loudly. He foresaw the whole thing, and I must admit this kid turned me on so much, and the orgasm he induced was so powerful, I felt like screaming from the intensity. Even in the height of passion, this kid was utterly in control. As it was, any further utterances were muffled by his little hand and I ended up biting gently into the soft fleshy part of his hand between his thumb and fingers. As his little body milked my cock at one end, he was stifling my passion at the other. And even as his little hand was over my mouth, I could see him smiling a little crooked smile of satisfaction. He enjoyed what he was doing, and loved having that control over me. His presence of mind was breathtaking.

When this little rollercoaster ride was over, I relaxed, totally spent and exhausted and somewhat breathless. It was a great cum, and I took a few seconds to get my breath back. He took his hand away and let me take a deep breath. I went as if to pull out of his little butt, but he reasserted himself on me, pushing back down onto my still hard cock.

`No, stay in me,' he said, pressing himself down onto my cock, which was still hard and still firmly lodged up his little ass.

He leaned back and pushed my cock deeper into his now sloppy little boycunt, and I could feel the spunk I had just fucked into him leaking down the sides of my cock as it went back up his little chute, squelching down the sides of my shaft and making my whole crotch wet. As he forced my cock back into him, I could see him grabbing at his own little boydick and start to jack himself off in earnest. I reached up and felt up his little preteen body, appreciating the sight of the young body which was still connected to me. My hands gently skimmed all over his smooth little boy chest, feeling his silky, flawless young skin and pinching his little nipples. He loved that and was moaning and throwing his head back as I did so. The harder I did it, the louder he moaned. God, his little boy moans were so erotic.

Furiously, he was jacking his boydick with one hand. With the other, he cupped his tight little balls which were wet with my spunk, and was squeezing them in a rough, almost careless way, which looked quite painful. But he was enraptured and working up to what we both knew was going to be a great cum for him. I cast my mind back to earlier in the evening when I had reached for his crotch and he had stopped me, saying that he was saving it. Saving it! What kid had the foresight to delay gratification like that? He was so remarkable.

His breathing was growing ever more erratic, shorter and heavier, the breaths becoming more like rapid puffs, and I could see his little chest heaving with the effort and rising excitement. He quickened the pace on his dick and continued fucking himself up and down onto my cock. He was perfectly coordinated, wriggling his pelvis as he fucked, deliberately making my cock connect with his gland. I was still hard, mesmerized by the beauty and sheer sexuality of this little boy, and his insatiable, irrepressible appetite for sex.

I anticipated the spectacle of seeing his little cock spunk. That made my cock even harder. Then, as his orgasm hit, his whole pubic region seemed to contract, and I could feel the initial pulses of his orgasm constricting around my cock as he continued to fuck himself onto it. It was as though my cock was being gripped by some tightening fist and ruthlessly milked, and it actually hurt a little. As Yura started to spunk, he uttered one gratuitous `Oh fuck...' and then his whole body froze, tensing up as his perfect little boy dick flexed wildly and with each pulse urgently spat out several little jets of clear little boy spunk. It was ejected in long, wet streaks which all went in different directions, all the way up my chest and abs. His orgasm seemed to go on for a good long time, consuming his whole body which shuddered violently for several seconds, during which he seemed to hold his breath. His boyspunk was copious and burning hot... always a sign that it had been accumulating for some time, and once again he ejaculated more than I thought possible for a boy his age. There was so much of it that my chest and abs were soaked in it, forming little pools in my chest hair, and even up as far as my neck and shoulders. What a little spunkboy.

Finally, Yura breathed a tangible sigh of relief and let go of his little dick. He literally fell off me, exhausted, at the same time releasing my dick from his chute. He collapsed onto the bed next to me, face down, panting heavily. It always took him a little while to recover. I leaned over and stroked his back, kissed the back of his sweet head, and whispered into his ear.

`God, you're such a little spunkboy. Where do you get it from?'

He didn't answer straight away. He carried on hyperventilating into the pillow for a bit, then promptly turned over and looked up at me. He swallowed hard and caught his breath, licking his lips and dry mouth. He stared right up at me with a mischievous grin.

`Watch this,' he said, cryptically.

With that, he rose up, and got astride me again, this time sitting way up on my chest, with his knees almost in my armpits, and weighing down on my rib cage, pressing my torso right down onto the bed. In doing so, he mixed the boyspunk he had ejaculated all over me with the spunk I had pumped into his little ass, which was now leaking out of his hole onto my chest. As he sat on top of me, he smeared it all into my skin with the underside of his thighs and little butt. His little dick was still hard and leaking little boy spunk from the tip, but it was nevertheless still standing to attention.

Sitting up on top of me, Yura grabbed his hard little dick once again. He milked out the last few drops of cum from his tube, catching them on the back of his little fingers, and looked up at me. He smiled that mischievous little boy smile of his and, staring directly into my eyes, he brought his hand up to his lips and licked it all off. Still staring intently at me, he swallowed hard and licked his lips to show how much he relished the taste of his own little boy cum. He was such a dirty little spunkboy. Then he reached down and started jacking his little dick again furiously, at a tremendously fast pace.

`Watch,' he said again.

I watched. I laid there and enjoyed this little performance he was putting on for me. When he grabbed his little dick again like that, and settled his little boy butt on my chest, I knew he was going for another cum. He appeared to recover from the first one quite quickly, and this time he made himself cum fairly rapidly, working himself up into another orgasm within a matter of minutes. This time, he fell forward, thrusting his little dick up at me, and aimed his little boy spunk right into my face. He gasped, his little body tightening up one more time, and he shot two or three little squirts of thin boyspunk right over my face. This time it was my turn to lick around my mouth, and tasted the sweetness of his little boy juice. Considering he just spunked up quite a voluminous amount, I was incredulous that he was able to spunk up some more within a matter of minutes. His capacity to cum so much and with such frequency in such a short time truly amazed me.

`See,' he said, `I told you I was saving it.'

He smiled knowingly, and without saying a word, shifted down and sat on my hips once again. He leaned over and started sucking up the cum from my chest and abs, the mixture of spunk which had leaked from his ass and the spunk he had shot all over me. He moved up my body, sucking up the spunk he had just shot over my face, his hot little tongue licking my body and face almost clean. God, that was so erotic. When he had accumulated a good amount in his little mouth I thought he was going to swallow it. But he didn't. He leaned over, almost laying flat on top of me, and poked a little finger into my mouth. I parted my lips and, with his little face directly above mine, our lips only an inch apart, he opened his little mouth and he allowed the spunk in his mouth to drip into my open lips. It was hot from sitting on his little tongue, and I of course swallowed everything he fed me. When the last of the dribbling cum had fallen from his lips, he pressed his little mouth onto mine, locking our lips together, and he tongued the remnants into my open mouth, forcing whatever was left in his mouth into mine. God this kid was so unbelievably sexual. His little cum-swapping spunk games were mind-blowing.

`God, where did you learn to do that little buddy?' I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

`Huh, you think that's good?' he said, almost blasÚ, `You should see what Vladik can do.'

 

******

 

It was almost prophetic that those were his last words before going to sleep. Prophetic because later that night, Yura called out in his sleep.

`Vladik!'

It was a plaintive cry, as though he was calling out a warning to him.

I was roused by his shout and felt a lot of commotion and ruffling of the bedclothes in the bed next to me. The awareness of this sudden activity alerted me that there was something very wrong. I opened my eyes and reached for the bedside lamp. Switching on the light, I turned to see Yura sitting up in the bed with an alarmed and confused expression, his eyes wide and staring fixedly, panting little shallow breaths of shock.

I rose up, genuinely concerned.

`Hey, what's wrong little buddy?'

`I... I had a... a nightmare,' he gasped, between breaths.

I leaned over and hugged him. He clung to me.

`It was Vladik. I saw Vladik,' he gasped.

`It's okay little buddy,' I reassured him, `It's over now,' and I held him close, rubbing his back.

`Vladik was falling,' he went on, emitting his words at such a speed they were almost tripping over themselves, `I saw him falling. He was on top of a building, and I was down below, and I saw him jump, and I was going to catch him...'

`Hey, slow down,' I said, calming him.

`Oh Mark, it was so real!'

I squeezed him tightly.

`It's okay, it's over now.'

`Something happened to Vladik,' he kept on saying.

`It's only a dream,' I assured him.

He shook his head and pulled free from my embrace.

`No,' he insisted, `You don't understand. Something has happened to Vladik.'

He looked genuinely perturbed by this dream, and profoundly upset by it. The look in his face betrayed a type of agitation I had never seen in him before.

`It was like I was there,' he was saying, `I really saw him.'

`It's okay little buddy. It was just a dream.'

I sat up in bed with him for a good long time, stroking him, rubbing his back and massaging his little shoulders, and enjoying an impromptu little boymoment with him, reassuring him and soothing his anxiety. I wondered whether it was significant that he should have dreamt about Vladik, given what Zhukov had disclosed to me earlier in the evening. Of course, Yura had talked a lot about Vladik, and I knew that there was a special bond between them, but I couldn't help wondering if at that moment something really was happening to Vladik.

It took me a long time to calm Yura down and I sat up with him until he had relaxed and eventually fell asleep again. By the morning, the hiatus of the night was almost forgotten. At any rate it was not mentioned. Either the incident was completely out of his mind, or he had chosen to say nothing more about it.

The next day we had a busy schedule of quite mundane errands to perform. It was almost a relief to be engaged in fairly routine pursuits, and it was good to have the opportunity to provide Yura with a good counterpoint to recent events, and get him to do some ordinary everyday things. Shopping was an incredibly boring and unappealing chore for any kid, but it was an exercise intended to expose them to normal everyday interactions. So my strategy was to always get them involved in finding things, to try and preoccupy them in some way. Of course it wasn't always successful. My previous experiences taking young boys shopping were fraught with behaviour ranging from extreme disinterest to full-blown tantrums. So, it was almost unnatural to me to discover that it required no effort at all with Yura. Luckily, he was always very cooperative and helpful and never once complained or demanded anything.

The trip to the supermarket would have been relatively uneventful and forgettable if it hadn't been for two significant events. The first one happened soon after we had entered the store. There was a rather large woman, who was seriously overweight, pushing a shopping cart down the aisle. Her cart was full to overflowing, mostly with junk, and she was puffing quite loudly, apparently from the sheer effort of walking. She was sweating profusely and seemed impervious to the two tiny little boys that were trailing along forlornly behind her. They were cute little things, probably about five or six years old. I guess they must have been twins. They were not identical, but looked very similar in appearance, with little mops of straight golden blond hair, button noses and big brown eyes. Their diminutive little bodies were decked out in basketball kits of thin vests and loose shorts. Their skimpy vests afforded a good view of their smooth armpits and necks. On their bare little boy feet were sandals which exposed the full length of their sinewy little legs. But there was no sign of any jackets or outdoor clothing to protect them from the cold. My first thought was that it had turned quite chilly outside, and I couldn't see how these two cute little specimens wouldn't be cold, even if it was just walking out to the parking lot. Yura and I found ourselves behind them in the aisle and they were cheekily whispering things to each other and giggling. Their corpulent mother forged on ahead, completely immersed in her shopping. The two little boys turned and smiled at us and they giggled to each other. Yura spotted them. It was delightful to see how Yura responded to them with such affection, and he gave them a warm, friendly smile. Apparently he found them just as endearing as I did. We even turned and glanced at each other, simultaneously captivated by the little boys' prettiness and cheeky smiles. Just then, their mother loomed up unexpectedly, grabbed them each by an arm, and abruptly swung them around, dealing out a harsh, resounding slap, first to one, then the other. She hit them quite hard, the sharp blow causing their heads to jolt violently. I could hear Yura gasp in shock and he recoiled at the sight of that.

`I told you little fuckers to stay close to me,' she hissed, with real malice and vehemence in her tone.

The two little boys held their smarting cheeks, visibly shocked into silence by the extreme and unexpected blow meted out by their mother. What had been a delightful and tender moment had been prematurely halted and perverted by their mother's unwarranted intervention. I felt so sorry for them. She grabbed them both by their vests and violently jerked them away, and as she did so, their little vests rode up exposing a small expanse of their midriffs, so that you could see their flat little tummies and their cute little innie belly-buttons. They reluctantly went, their happy giggles now silenced and the cheeky smiles of a moment ago now cruelly wiped from their faces. We watched them go, their expressions contorted in pain and self-pity and with enormous tears welling up in their eyes.

What stuck in my mind about this incident was not the sheer lack of consideration demonstrated by the little boys' mother, but Yura's reaction to it. He gasped, and as the two little boys were being spirited away, he grabbed my arm quite hard. I could feel the distress in his grip because he held onto my arm so hard he pinched the skin on my bicep. He was visibly disturbed by the incident and looked up at me with an expression of horror and confusion. I hugged him and gave his ribs a reassuring squeeze. That little display of violence shook his sensitivity so profoundly that he retreated into a quiet and reflective mood for the rest of the time we were in the store.

Yura's reaction did not surprise me. But I felt for him. He abhorred violence. And yet, this was one of the very things that made Yura so remarkable and so lovable. He was a boy who had been shown very little love, and yet was so loving. A boy who had been beaten and brutalised, but was so placid and gentle. A boy who had been neglected and exploited, yet was the kindest and most considerate person I knew. But that was Yura. He may have been only ten years old, yet he had a wisdom and maturity that went way beyond his years. He was one big paradox, the measure of whom I don't think I was ever going to really understand. He was simply a wonderful human being.

When we finally got through the checkout and back out into the parking lot, I took Yura aside just on the forecourt of the store. I pulled out an item in a paper bag and presented it to him.

`This is for being so helpful today,' I told him.

He took it and peered inside. It was a new video game -- the latest release of Gran Turismo. He had been raving about it since he had played it with Misha the other day. Luckily I was good at remembering details like that. I had slipped it into the shopping cart whilst I sent him off to look for some obscure food item. I always believed in rewarding and thanking good behaviour. Yura looked up, overjoyed, and raising himself up on tiptoes, spontaneously kissed me on the lips. It was a lovely gesture, and probably one which felt quite natural to him. But it was not really something he should have done in public.

`Fag!' we heard behind us, in a critical and derogatory tone.

We both turned to see a young man, perhaps no more than fourteen or fifteen, slouching up against the wall, sneering at us. He was leaning well back, with one knee bent back, his foot resting on the wall behind him. He was dressed in a grey hoodie, although the hood was down, clearly exposing a big shock of hair which was sticking up in an unruly yellow peroxide explosion. I was tempted to show him my badge and warn him about his language, but I remembered that my priority was Yura.

I let it go and ignored his remark. Yura stared at the young man for a good long time, even as I was pulling him away. As we moved off, I could tell from his silence and the solemn look in his face that the remark had irked him. He knew it was an uncomplimentary word.

We returned to the car and started loading the grocery bags into the open tailgate.

`Mark, what does fag mean?' he asked me, as he passed me the grocery bags.

I looked down at him and saw his genuinely quizzical expression.

`It's not a very nice word for someone who's gay,' I explained.

He looked puzzled, and I watched as his face transfigured through a series of different expressions.

`Why did he say that?' Yura asked me.

`Because you're not supposed to kiss me like that in public,' I told him.

The look on his face told me that he really did not understand the implications of what he had just done. It was a clear indication of the unorthodox childhood he had lived so far, and served to demonstrate how his lack of exposure to proper boundaries was impacting on his conduct in public. This was a prime example of his relative unworldliness. In some ways he was wise and mature beyond his years, yet in others he was quite innocent and na´ve. I explained to him that a love like this, the kind of relationship we were having, was not acceptable in mainstream society. I had experienced it all once before when I was with John. I knew even then that it was difficult enough being gay, but the kind of inter-generational relationship we were having was forbidden. With a love like this, we could not show that kind of affection in public simply because it was so misinterpreted and misunderstood. The look on Yura's face betrayed his acute disappointment and confusion. He was crestfallen. It was all the more inhibiting for me, knowing that I was unable to freely express the way I loved him, and that I was forbidden from publicly demonstrating the special love that passed between us. Never would I be able to openly annunciate my feelings for him. The injustice of that restriction depressed me beyond words. It was all the more frustrating because I knew that a love like this was as pure as any love I could ever know. Far from suppressing it, I wanted everyone to know how beautiful our love was. I wanted to tell the world how wonderful it felt. Deep down inside, what I really wanted to do was to proclaim our love from the rooftops.

******

If you enjoyed this story, please write and tell me. We writers thrive on feedback, so give us some encouragement. I am quite amenable to comments and discussion and welcome ideas and suggestions: cosmonaut@hush.com