(m/bbb - oral, anal)
The doll maker staggered to the couch
and sprawled on the leather cushions. He took a swig of Scotch from the bottle
and sighed. Nine days had passed since the paperboy last stopped by to clear
his debt. In a drunken haze, the man imagined the worst. Perhaps he had not
assessed the kid's maturity adequately? Were his instincts letting him down?
He knew very well that fucking children equated
playing the Russian roulette. If you put the barrel of the gun in your mouth
too many times, the probability of catching a bullet increased dramatically.
The matter required immediate action. However,
fleeing to Tokyo didn't appeal to Robson anymore, even though he had not seen
his mentor in over a decade. Surely, the old fellow would be pleased to
Master Takizawa had taught him everything he should
know concerning the subtle art of human dolls. Furthermore, the wise tutor had
introduced him to underground places where Shotacon fantasies came to life. It
had been a great honour to be taken under his wing.
For his first project, Robson had laboured on a
reproduction of the Asian man's four-year-old son, Hiroshi. The toddler
wriggled so much that they needed to sedate him in order to complete the full
For months, the apprentice remade the small doll,
again and again, honing his craft. He cussed during the plugging of every tiny
eyelash. The non-toxic glue didn't set hard enough to affix the synthetic
toenails. He couldn't overlook this flaw. A customer might choke on them when
he suckled the little piggies. The whole process required mountains of
Eventually, the Hiroshi doll was perfect. Master
Takizawa patted him on the back. They celebrated at an izakaya, drinking sake
and stuffing their faces with the exquisite dishes. Afterwards, they took a
cab to Club Kabegami. The peculiar joint was very popular. On the walls, naked
Japanese boys were suspended from metal hooks like paintings. Their wrists and
ankles were bound with florescent rope.
The patrons enjoyed a cocktail, conversed, and ambled
in the private Club. They stopped in front of a boy and sucked him off. Moans
and cries of joy of the children cumming repeatedly served as the background
music for the evening.
Robson shuddered awake from his snooze. He drank
another shot of Scotch and stood up. His decision was taken. He would not run
away from the cozy nest he'd built. And there were pressing things to deal
with. His customers had been e-mailing requests for a punk boy doll. He
couldn't just improvise one up.
The thrill of hunting for an authentic juvenile
delinquent gave him a purpose. At once, he forgot his anguish.
* * *
The crowd spewed out of the pubs. That
night, a refreshing drizzle turned the street into a mirror, reflecting the
blinking lights of the clubs.
This was the playground of all vices. The seedy part
of the city with its gay hangouts named 'Kox', 'Maleroom', 'Angus', the cheap
hotels and XXX video stores. Up the boulevard, grey-haired fellows exited the
'Cheekuns' where minutes before, sixteen-year-old boys with fake ID cards
shook their bony asses and twirled around a pole like hussies.
On the sidewalk, men passing by threw lustful
stares in Robson's direction, as if he was a piece of meat. At thirty, he had
completely shed the youthful aura of a teenager but he reckoned he was still a
good catch. The shameless flirting flattered him.
At this time of the night, nobody wanted to go home
alone. Tired drag queens held on to shirtless beefcakes under the scrutiny of
dumb twinks. Teenaged cocksuckers lurked in the darkened entryways of closed
shops, waiting for a generous businessman. Rejected creatures of the night
Robson observed the strange urban ballet for a while then
opted to prowl in the alley behind the bars.
A group of bums were sitting next to a blue dumpster. The
earthy aroma of burning weed wafted up his nostrils. In the pack of teenagers,
the youngest one had definite potential.
He scattered a round of cigarettes to wake up the
bad boys from their lethargy. They looked up menacingly; acting like they were
some kind of tough gang when in reality they were nothing but vulgar vagrants,
at best self-proclaimed anarchists. A sad bunch of squeegee rebels without a
cause, cleaning windshields on street corners for a couple of quarters.
The leader of the pack looked to be around twenty,
surely a veteran in the flashy neighbourhood. The blue bandana on his forehead
did not conceal his bloodshot eyes and Robson could see into his pupils, into
the emptiness of his soul, drained over the years by the harsh lifestyle he'd
"Hey, if you got some good ex, I
can be your little girl." The young man proposed.
"You're too old for puppy
love." Robson replied.
The junkie smirked, threw his head to the side in a
blatant effort to show he didn't give a shit.
"Who's your friend?" The man
queried, thrusting his chin at the young lad whose glabrous jaw poked out of
"This here is Johnny." The
leader sang, wrapping his arm around the shoulders of the youngster. "He's
our new buddy. He came in on the big bus last week."
"Is that so?" Robson
exclaimed, surprised that the kid had eluded the claws of the scumbags preying
on naive runaways at the bus terminal.
The man crouched over the pot-smoking boy and
examined his face. It was untouched by the ravages of puberty. On his shaven
head, only a tuft of hair dyed green drooped down the front of his scalp. He
wore Doc Martens boots, torn blue jeans and a Rancid t-shirt, the guise of a
perfect little punk. The boy stared stupidly at him, feigning contempt with
eyes veiled by a blurry glaze
"Rat got your tongue?"
Robson asked bluntly.
They had taught him well already. The defiant boy
grunted, flashing that cocky look that all those punks use to shake you away.
"Fuck off, man. He won't do
it." Another teen butted in.
"So, you're his mommy now?"
Robson growled at him.
"He's only thirteen!"
"Well, I'm pretty sure Johnny
knows you have to put stuff in your mouth if you wanna survive." He
chimed with a mellow tone.
"I'm gonna chill here." The
kid finally spoke.
He had such a pretty voice, broken yet lyrical, with
raspy undertones. They considered each other. Robson produced his warmest
smile. The kid sought comfort in the depth of the adult's eyes, assurance that he
would not be harmed. Then he saw it, the glint of all glints, embodying
centuries of men's primal lust for boys like him. He bowed his head and
glanced coyly at his boots.
"It's your call. There's nothing
wrong with sleeping in the rain." Robson said, slowly departing from the
scene, dejected by his failure to reel him in.
At the end of the alley, footsteps resonated behind
him. The boy stamped out the distance between them. He followed the man
all the way to his hotel room. Robson ushered the little punk inside and
crumbled on the bed. The pretty boy fidgeted on the same spot,
deliberating on what he was supposed to do.
"Go take a shower, Johnny. You
stink of trash." Robson mumbled, switching the TV on with the remote. His
guards were up as he entertained the possibility that the street punk might
brandish a knife to mug him.
Thankfully, his prize breezed to the bathroom. He
ordered a pizza in the meantime. The shower ran and Johnny waltzed out,
wearing only a towel around his loins. Carelessness accompanied his movements.
He sat on the edge of the mattress. Without his provocative clothes, he looked
younger and vulnerable.
For a kid of thirteen, there weren't many muscles on
his frame. But it was easy to see how in a few years, he would be every
ebophile's ideal partner. A lean masculine specimen with a hard body perfectly
poised at the frontier, retaining its childhood frailty but ever so slanting
The doorbell rang. Robson fetched his wallet and
fished out a crisp twenty-dollar bill for the pizza.
"You can keep the change if you
drop that towel to answer the door." He challenged his guest.
Johnny frowned at first, then snickered, amused by
the ridiculous dare.
"You think I won't do it?"
"I know you won't."
The boy crushed the twenty in his fist and hurried to
the door, letting the towel fall behind his calves. Meanwhile, Robson curled
up with the latest Dennis Cooper novel and pretended to read, leering from the
corner of his eye at the lovely firm globes arise and descend with every step.
The expression on the delivery guy's face was
priceless. He peeked at the kid's package and diverted his stare, probably
thinking this was 'Candid Camera'. It never ceased to amaze Robson how even
something insignificant as a minor's nudity had become a taboo. Moreover, how
men had willingly handed their balls over to the feminist moral dictatorship.
The bewildered chap backed off when Johnny extended
his hand to pay, afraid he might be arrested if he got too close. Gathering
his courage, the man took the money and handed over the change.
Johnny returned with the box. His uncut sausage
swung left and right vivaciously. A goofy grin blossomed on his lips. Robson
watched the nude punk boy stretch on his tummy next to him. The kid wolfed down two slices
in a minute. The savagery of his hunger was enticing.
"Funny... How that guy reacted."
He mumbled, chewing a mouthful of dough.
"Not really." Robson
differed. "I was thinking more along the line of...pathetic."
Johnny shrugged, pursued the onslaught, oblivious to
the discourse. Robson took the opportunity to inspect his anatomy. The white
mounds of his ass were small. He couldn't conceive how he managed to hold up a
pair of jeans with those puny buns. His feet had definitely grown too fast;
they projected like diving fins at the end of his slender legs.
Unlike the other street wanderers, Johnny didn't keep
his distance. Robson could not discern a trace of distrust. The kid had not built
that invisible wall to protect himself from strangers.
"How come you're here in the big
bad city? Trouble at home?" Robson asked.
"My dad kicked me out when he
caught me getting fucked by a dude." He responded.
"Sorry to hear that." The
man said sincerely.
"That's ok." The boy smiled
awkwardly and dropped the piece of crust in the box. "So, are we gonna do
"You bet! You're hot as hell!"
In a snap, Robson stripped down to his boxers and
lounged on the bed, this time on his back.
"Come sit on me." He called
the young punk.
The nude boy straddled his chest. He had a nice set
of balls and the cock to go along with it. A scarce patch of wispy brown hairs
adorned his pubic mound.
"How old were you when you got
your first blowjob?" Robson inquired.
"From a boy or a
"A girl. She was our babysitter!"
Johnny chuckled. "She sucked my kid brother's dick and mine every week
before tucking us under the covers."
"More than once! What a slut! You
should have told on that child molester." The man remarked, gliding
between the hairless legs, putting his mouth underneath the plump
"Did it make you feel naughty and
dirty when she did that?" He asked, licking the balls.
"I'm gonna make you feel dirtier."
Robson vowed, nibbling on the sac.
Johnny's penis hardened rapidly. A slight shift
afforded the man a glimpse at his anus. He had not lied about losing his
virginity from the looks of it. He spread the buns and surged at the hairless
backdoor. The tip of his tongue swirled on the pucker and invaded the narrow
passage. Johnny impaled himself on the wet muscle, wriggling his behind and
jacking off like a horny toad.
"Don't touch your dick!"
With regrets, the boy forsook his joystick. He moaned
as furtive jabs of the tongue hit the bull's-eye. Every time he reached for
his hard prick, the man denied him that option. Sliding out from underneath
him, Robson turned around and ran his tongue on the underside of the boy's
penis, up to the head. The sole eye of the organ cried a rivulet of tears. His
tongue ventured on the membrane. He pulled on the foreskin to garner all of the
For long minutes, Robson slurped on the boycock ever
so gently. Despite all the precautions he took, Johnny panted, already on the
verge of blowing his wad. He did not want that. A wheezy hissing coming out of
his nose warned him that he should stop pleasuring him at once.
"Uhhh, c'mon, I need to cum! Do
it faster please." The febrile boy complained.
"You have to do it to me too."
Robson requested, in the hopes of cooling him off.
Johnny jumped to the edge of the mattress,
positioning himself before the adult's crotch. He tugged on the silk boxers.
Robson's straining pole sprung out, throbbing, begging for the moist embrace
of the kid's mouth.
"Oh shit, you got a big cock!"
Johnny cheered, apparently having never seen an eight-inch whopper.
Robson tilted the kid's head back, arched the
throat, and rubbed his hairy nuts on his pretty face.
"Chew my balls." He said,
stuffing the first one in. The rosy cheeks expanded from the size of the
testicle. He wedged the other one in the warm cavity, pinching it barely
through the oval of the lips.
"Ohhh yeah, suck my balls good."
The boy looked like a squirrel, munching on the
obese wrinkled bag. Catching Robson off guard, the horny rascal went for his
pecker and gave it a few wanks.
"No way!" The man roared.
"You can't play with yourself when you're playing with me." He
ordered, popping his balls out of the kid's mouth.
"C'mmmmmon!" Johnny whined.
"Don't fret, you'll cum very hard
soon." He promised, cradling the nape of the kid's neck and feeding him
his tool. The lips clamped down on his penis, slid back and forth right away.
"That's it! Suck that big cock!"
Robson chanted, watching him take it in earnest. Not bad for a kid picked up
For a while, he just stood there, surveying the
tuft of green hair bounce up and down over his swollen cock. Arms akimbo, muscles tensed. The
boy's mouth seemed like it was going to suck the sauce right out of the
furnace of his balls before he even came. A dazzling cocksucker he was, always
pulling on his prick, flicking his tongue on the head. Robson couldn't take
more than five minutes of that magnificent service before he was ready to
unload. He pushed the boy's head away.
"You're ready to cum now?"
"Yeah! Pleeze!" Johnny
The man grabbed the cooperative kid by his ankles and
rolled him on his back. Johnny reached up with his humid lips, trying to kiss
the tip of his penis, starving for the relief he had been refused. Robson sat
on his feet above his head to secure his balance, stroking the back of his
thighs, going up to his firm buttocks. The boy presented a great tableau; bent
in two, his hairless asshole lewdly exposed and his beautiful five-inch prick
pointing down at his face.
"I can't reach!" Johnny
"Suck on this." Robson said,
shoving his middle finger in the kid's mouth. "Get it real wet."
The young boy suckled the finger and followed the
moist digit with his eyes as it left his lips and zoomed over to his
"Ohhhhh fuck!" He cried out,
eyeing it circle his hole.
With his free hand, Robson milked the kid's hard
dick, rubbing his thumb in the sensitive indentation underneath the glans. The
tight asshole relaxed to the pressure of his finger. He tugged on the kid's
erection faster, sinking the longest of his digits into him. Johnny moaned
while the probe sought his prostate gland.
"Open your mouth." Robson
The lad complied. His mouth cracked open below his
erection. The big finger gradually plunged and emerged faster into his
"Uhhhh! Uhhhh! UHHHHH!"
Johnny moaned, overwhelmed by the euphoria of both stimulations, reaching the
point when males just became slaves to their own pleasure, when they
relinquished all sense of dignity and were prepared to do anything to get
"Cum in your mouth! I want to see
it. Shoot your load and eat it!" Robson exulted.
"Stick another finger in my
"Yessir!" The man acquiesced,
worming his index along with its buddy square into the orifice. The tenacious
sphincter battled the intrusion, but he lodged both fingers down to the first
"OHHH! OHHHH! I'm gonna cum!"
Robson scooted over to the kid's upturned butt. He
grabbed his erection and bent the shaft at a ninety-degree angle. There wasn't
a second to spare. He flexed his knees and buried his cock in the kid's
asshole, using it like a jackhammer to fuck him. With passionate thrust, he
drove his cock hard and steady deep into the boy's guts. Sadly, Johnny
overheated and trashed on the mattress from his orgasm.
Robson aimed the boy's shooting prick at his mouth,
guiding each milky jet on his outstretched tongue. Johnny raised his neck like
he was drinking from a fountain, collecting all five squirts of jizz. He
smiled slyly at the man as he consumed his own spunk.
Robson's cock swelled from the spectacle. A shot of
bliss numbed him. 'Arrgh, the little slut!'
He went over the edge and pulled out quickly to
shove his cock in the kid's mouth. The abundant sauce flooded the oral cavity
and overflowed from the corners of the boy's lips. Johnny gulped down the
mouthful, swallowing all the rich seed.
To be continued...
can send comments to debonair _atsign_ hushmail.com. Flames are deleted.