It's All About Boys

All the usual warnings and disclaimers, if man/boy sex is not your thing, read no further. If it is, then I hope you enjoy the following little fantasy.

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It's All About Boys, a short story fantasy by Ivor Sukwell.

 

 

"Have you fucked him yet?" Adele asked when I went down for breakfast, my arm round Robert's naked shoulder.

I hadn't, and there was a very good reason why I hadn't. The boy was only thirteen and I wanted to be sure that he was properly and healthily addicted to cock before I allowed him to be subjected to the perverted lure of slimy, wet cunt. I slept with him, I kissed, cuddled and fondled him, I ate his spunk and I rimmed and fingered his arse, but I hadn't yet fucked him. He'd fucked me, but that didn't count, didn't mean that Adele could get her hands on him yet. For now, Adele had to content herself with my two teenage sons, Hugh, who was fifteen, and Roger the same age as Robert. Both boys were well used to taking cock inside them and it was quite safe to allow Adele to use them; both would fuck her, but neither be permanently damaged by it.

Adele was my second wife, the boys' stepmother. She was Robert's aunt, he having only quite recently come to live with us.

My first wife, the mother of Hugh and Roger, had died three years ago and I had never had any intention of marrying again. Cunt didn't interest me, it never had. I'd got into marriage the first time because `it was the thing to do'. Everyone did it, so I did it as well. Fortunately for me, Hugh and Roger came along with the minimum of fucking, and when their mother died I set about bringing the boys up properly.

At ten, Roger was old enough to suck cock with relish, and Hugh, two years older, was more than willing to have his cock sucked, both by his brother and by me. It wasn't long before Hugh wanted to explore further and Roger's virginity disappeared on the end of his brother's prick before he was eleven. Hugh's lasted until his thirteenth birthday, my cock doing the honours.

We were a perfectly normal, cock-loving household, and kept the washing load down by only using one bed and being naked at all times in the house. Roger and Hugh provided me with visual delight and always available cock, and mine, of course, was always there for them to feel or suck when the mood took them.

Adele I acquired by accident. I met her at a party thrown by her elder brother, Lee, a man in his middle thirties who I had first got to know when he was a boy in his middle teens. Adele, at twenty-two was half my age, and, if women are your thing, seriously attractive.

We had some idle chat because she seemed to be as bored as I was, I assumed because the party was almost entirely middle-aged couples and no spare men, apart from me, for her to flirt with. I, of course, was bored because there were no boys to flirt with.

Lee ambled over to me when Adele went off in search of a re-filled glass;

"Reckon you could be in, there," he leered.

"Too old and wrong sex," I shrugged. Lee knew my preferences from when he was a teen and still undecided if he preferred cock to cunt and tried both.

"Nice tits, though," he said, even though he knew I liked tits to be hard, flat and belonging to boys.

Adele returned, glass full again and, being a woman, wanted to know what we were talking about.

"Your tits," her brother said, "But, bad luck, Luke likes boy tits."

"Do you?" Adele asked me when Lee had gone, "Like boy tits?"

"And the rest of them," I grinned.

"Cocks?" she asked, not in the least put out that I went for boys.

"Naturally," I confirmed.

"We have something in common, then," she commented, "The evening might just possibly improve. At least there's someone to talk to."

"Because I like boys?"

"Yes," she sipped her drink, "I like boys as well."

"Probably older than the ones I go for," I smiled, feeling surprisingly at ease discussing boys with a twenty-two year old woman.

"I doubt that," she said, "My cunt's not open to anything of a legal age."

"Same as my mouth," I grinned at her and we both laughed.

We talked boys for an hour or so and then she just said, out of nowhere,

"We should get married."

"You what!?"

"You've got two boys of the right ages, haven't you?"

"Yes, Hugh and Roger."

"And I can't imagine for one moment that you haven't fucked them."

I just stared at her, probably open-mouthed.

"I'd like to have them fuck me," she said, as though it was the most normal thing in the world to say. "Be good for them to try cunt as well as cock."

"As long as I don't have to," I gave a mock shudder.

"No chance," she shuddered back, "Nothing over sixteen gets in me."

It was a marriage of convenience; Adele did the cooking and the cleaning and the boys had their sex education expanded. Being teenagers they were well up for giving slit a try as an alternative to hole, but they were sensible boys and both expressed a preference for real sex over the hetero stuff. They also agreed with me that Adele should have a slightly different dress code and that her cunt should not be on display.

"Her tits are fine," Hugh said to me, "But cunt really isn't nice to look at, is it. Not like cock."

 

Then Robert arrived. We'd had a pleasant eighteen months, the boys fucking their step-mother, their father and each other and then Lee handed us his thirteen year-old boy, Robert.

His wife had traded him in for something with more money and Lee had got himself a job in the Middle East and thought that Adele and I were the perfect people to look after the boy while he was away. Naturally, Lee had no idea that his sister and I shagged our boys daily, and even thought that I had succumbed to the lure of cunt myself.

Robert was five feet of delicious thirteen-year-old boy. Blond and blue-eyed, slender and long-legged, he was perfect bed material. Adele and I looked at each other and we both nodded. Yes, we'd take Robert, no problem. Hugh and Roger were of a similar opinion.

"Who gets to fuck him first, dad?" Hugh asked when they'd left and we'd all shed our `visitors' clothes again. Both Hugh and Roger were standing proud, the prospect of fresh flesh making their mouths water.

"It may be best if we go Roger, you and then me," I suggested, "Start with the smallest first and break him in gently."

The boys thought this a good idea as well; Roger had just under four slender inches and Hugh, at fifteen, was near his full size at almost six and not the least bit slender. I had what Roger described as `a serious hole stretcher', only six and a half but thick with it.

"And what about me?" Adele demanded, "I get to have him as well, you know."

"You can have him after I've fucked him," I told her. "He gets started with the boys, then me, then you."

"Why can't I go first?" Adele wanted to know, "He's my nephew, after all; and it's not like I'll be stretching his arse, is it!"

"I don't think it's fair on the boy to be subjected to perversion before he's got used to proper sex," I explained to her; "Once the boys and I have shown him what his cock's for and fucked him a few times, then it'll be safe to let him have a go at your cunt."

"It's not fair," Adele sulked, "I want to be fucked by a virgin. You've no idea how brill it is to have a first-time cock inside you!"

Hugh and Roger sniggered openly; my arse was the first hole either of them had been in and I knew all about the wonders of having a first-time cock pounding away, all inhibitions lost in the magic of fucking.

"Tried it, have you?" I grinned at Adele, who, after a bit more sulking, grinned back.

"Yeh," she admitted, "But not one as young as Robert, yet."

"Tell you what," I offered, "We show Robert how much fun it is to be nice, young, fuck-flesh; everything except letting him fuck us. Then, when he's going well, you can be his first fuck. How about that?"

It was a reasonable offer and Adele accepted it with good grace.

"Not as good as a proper, never-been-touched-before, virgin, but it'll have to do," she sighed.

I gave no thought to the seduction of Robert; I suppose that I had become so used to the naked availability of teenage cock in the house that the idea that I might actually have to seduce the boy never entered my head. Hormones bounce around in a thirteen-year-old boy like frenzied atomic particles, so present one with unrestrained sexual opportunity and seduction wouldn't even enter into it.

We were all in our `visitors only' clothes when Lee dropped the boy, plus two large suitcases, off on his way to the airport and he departed with profuse thanks and not the slightest suspicion that he had provided us with nice, young, fresh, bed-meat.

"Robert's living here now," I said once Lee's taxi had whisked him away, "So he no longer classes as a visitor."

My boys grinned and went upstairs to hang their visitors clothes in the wardrobe, Adele simply took off her blouse to reveal her tits she had no need for a bra and never wore one.

Poor Robert's eyes popped out of his head at his first sight of real live tit and popped out even further when Roger and Hugh returned properly naked.

"No-one wears clothes in the house," I explained to him, "Except for Adele who has to keep her cunt covered. None of us wants to have to look at cunt. We all want to look at cock, though, and that includes yours."

The poor lad didn't know what to do. He was torn between growing a bone at the sight of tit and cock, and curling up into a red-faced, embarrassed ball and hiding somewhere.

"Get your kit off," I told him, "And I'll take it upstairs with your suitcases."

"Do I have to?" he squeaked.

"Of course you do, we all want to see what you've got."

"And not just see it," Roger chortled, licking his lips in anticipation.

I was amused by Robert's hesitant embarrassment. Being so used to my two teenage boys flaunting their possessions I had forgotten that most boys of that age were shy about revealing their all. Hugh had been twelve when we began our `naked always' lifestyle, not quite old enough for the culture inspired `keep it covered at all times' inhibitions to take root, and Roger, at ten, had welcomed the `naughty' aspect of being on display and had eagerly embraced our `leave your own alone but get as much of your brother's and your father's as you want' philosophy. I don't think that Roger has actually wanked himself even once!

"Dad," Hugh suggested, "Why don't you take Robert's stuff upstairs while Adele gets us something to eat? Roger and I will sort Robert out."

I saw the sense of that, the boy might be less embarrassed about getting uncovered if it was not done in the presence of two adults, and although both Adele and I were anxious to watch the bit by bit revelation of Robert's flesh, we did as Hugh suggested.

I couldn't see his unclothing from upstairs, but I could hear every word of what went on.

"We are always naked here," I heard Hugh telling the boy, "And now you live here you have to be as well."

"And we want to see your cock," Roger piped in.

"Be quiet, Roger! Can't you see Robert's embarrassed? He's not used to being naked like we are."

"Do I have to be?" There was a definite tremble in Robert's early teen treble.

"You do," Hugh soothed, "And you'll soon get used to it. I bet you'll really like it, too, once you've got used to it."

"But you'll all be looking at my cock, won't you."

"And you'll be looking at ours," Hugh agreed.

"Not just looking, either," Roger piped in again.

"Roger!" Hugh hissed.

"Sorry."

"Look," Hugh said kindly, "There's something you ought to know. Wanking is not permitted here. I know you must have started wanking by now, but it's not allowed here. If you need a wank then you just get one of the rest of us to do it for you. I know that might seem weird to you now, but I promise that you'll like it more than just wanking yourself."

"Don't know," Robert's treble quavered.

"Not been wanked yet?"

"No, never."

"But you do wank yourself?"

"Yes. Sometimes."

"How many `sometimes'?"

"Don't know."

"Course you do. Once a day, twice? Or more than that?"

"Sometimes more, I spose."

"Good boy," the grin in Hugh's voice was clear to hear.

"And you can spunk?"

"Yeah."

"Well," Hugh encouraged, "Here you can spunk as often as you want as long as one of us wanks or sucks it for you."

"Sucks it?" Robert's voice squeaked in shock.

"Oh, yes," Roger piped in yet again, "We all love sucking. Dad's brilliant at it."

"Your dad sucks you?"

"Course he does," Roger snorted, "And we suck him as well."

"Get your clothes off" Hugh said softly, "Just go for it."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"Cos .............."

"Cos he's got a bone," Roger chortled.

"Well, if you have, you're not the only one," Hugh grinned, "What you think that is sticking out the front of Roger?"

"Hehe," Roger giggled, "And one guess as to who it's pointing at!"

"Guys," Robert protested feebly.

"Okay," Hugh said, "You're shy and you've got a bone and that's making you even more shy. I think I know how we can help."

I gave up just listening then; whatever Hugh had in mind I wanted to see, so I sneaked quietly half way down the stairs where I could get a view.

Hugh was just undoing the last buttons on Robert's shirt, the boy standing, red-faced but not resisting when the last button was undone and the shirt slipped off his slender shoulders. My own cock stiffened as I took in the sight of his narrow chest, the two brown nubs of his nipples magnetic points of desire.

Hugh knelt in front of Robert, unlaced his trainers an act not necessary for their removal, but one that emphasised the sensual nature of the boy's slow uncovering. Robert lifted each foot in turn to allow his socks to be peeled off, something he would not have done if he had truly been determined to remain covered, and when Hugh reached up for his belt he sucked in his stomach and held his breath while the buckle was released and the top button of his jeans undone.

No protest when the zip was slid down and, freed from restraint, his jeans slipped slowly down his legs to puddle round his ankles.

Long legs; smooth legs, coltish legs; the long, smooth, coltish legs of a thirteen-year-old boy. My cock hardened even more. He lifted each leg delicately, allowing Hugh to ease the now unwanted jeans over his feet, and he did so with such supple grace that my hand reached for my hardness and held it tight.

I had no intention of breaking the house rule about wanking, but one of the boys would be taking that hardness down his throat in the very near future!

Robert sucked in air and stomach once more when Hugh's hands reached gently for the waist band of his boxer briefs, and he held that breath while Hugh eased the elastic away from and over the throbbing hardness they had been concealing.

"Oh fuck!" Roger sighed, a sigh over-flowing with lust, as Hugh eased down that last defence of modesty and Robert's now released and no longer just personal pride, jutted proudly out, at a solid, stiff, forty-five degree angle from his smooth, flat, hairless stomach.

The length, perhaps, of the palm of my hand, the thickness little more than that of my middle finger, it was a young teen cock to adore in all the ways it is possible to adore young teen cock.

"That has just got to spunk in my mouth," Roger breathed in lust, "The spunk from that has just got to taste fantastic."

I could only agree!

"Still feeling a bit shy?" Hugh asked, very softly, and when Robert nodded, Hugh leaned in and placed his fifteen-year-old face against thirteen-year-old hardness and nuzzled it for a moment. "Any better?" he asked.

"Never done anything," Robert whispered, "Except wank. Is it okay? I mean, safe? With parents around?"

"No worries about that," Hugh whispered back, "We told you about that, remember? Your cock is our cock now, and our cocks are yours."

Hugh slid a hand up Robert's smooth, slender and oh, so tempting thigh, up to his balls, and then his cock, before leaning in once more and taking those slender inches into his mouth.

Robert gasped.

I thought, `Cheeky sod, Hugh, getting the first taste,' whilst at the same time thinking congratulations to my elder son for so easily and efficiently turning Robert from shy, never-been-touched virgin into a normal, healthy, thirteen-year-old-now-know-what-my-cock-is-for-and-don't-stop-now-cos-it-feels-amazing, boy.

"Oh shit! Oh fuck! Oh shit!" Robert gasped and moaned as Hugh sucked him. His hands went from their I'm-just-letting-this-happen- because-I've-got-no-choice position by his sides to creeping up and round Hugh's head, his hips going from a neutral stillness to a perceptible gentle thrusting as his cock conveyed the message to his brain that being sucked was something that cock liked. A lot!

Hugh was a skilled and talented cock-sucker. His lips and tongue would entice an orgasm from a dead man and if something more basic was required, well, he could swallow me whole with no effort at all. Actually, I preferred the oral attentions of Roger he was far less skilled, but the fact that he was thirteen and not fifteen more than made up for that.

Robert's cock was in Hugh's mouth and it would not escape from there until it had done its duty and shot its load.

Robert's slender body began to stiffen, his gasps became ragged.

"Gonna cum," he hissed, his fingers clawing at Hugh's hair, "Gonna ........." He arched his back, head tilted backwards and his cock did what sucked cocks do.

"Tried to tell you," Robert muttered, seemingly ashamed that he had spurted into Hugh's mouth, "But you wouldn't stop."

"Course he wouldn't," Roger sniggered.

Hugh licked his lips appreciatively. "Not much," he said, "But deliciously sweet."

I know what he meant, the first, early spunkings of young teens are thin but the flavour is exquisite.

 

By bedtime Robert had spent some six hours naked, six hours in which his shyness lessened, and his visual interest in the three cocks on show for him to look at, increased. Adele's tits did not go unnoticed by him either, and, to be fair, her tits were worth a glance or two. If she'd only had a cock between her legs instead of a horrid wet slit, she might have been fun to bed.

Sleeping arrangements were simple; Adele could attempt once more to pervert Hugh and Roger, and I would take Robert and begin his education properly.

Once in the bedroom the boy's shy nervousness returned. No thirteen-year-old boy would be under any illusions about what will happen when his naked body shares a bed with a naked man, and never-been-touched-before-today Robert was far from sure if he wanted those things to happen! Knowing that he had no choice in the matter didn't help and I'd no doubt that his mind was full of the lurid possibilities that boys of thirteen snigger to each other about.

So nervous was he that his lovely young cock was as limp as it could get, but that didn't prevent him from looking utterly beautiful. Sometimes a naked boy with a soft cock is more of a pleasure to the eye that one whose cock is hard, and Robert was certainly a pleasure to the eye! Five feet of slender, smooth, early adolescent perfection; the pale skin of his narrow shoulders and chest highlighted by the twin brown nubs of his nipples, nipples that were soon to discover that they are far more than just little lumps with no purpose. Skin stretched taught across his ribs, his flat stomach centred by an `innie', and a perfect `V' diving down to his beautiful young cock, a cock sheathed in an ample covering of foreskin that ended in a softly pink partly opened rosebud.

No more than a dozen or so dark gold hairs were trying to sprout at the base of his cock, and, as far as I could see, none had yet begun to break cover on his balls. Soon my tongue would check those for smoothness, just as it would check the smoothness of his thighs. Long, slender but gently swelling thighs; young, smooth, adolescent thighs that would harden the cock of any man. Or boy both Roger and Hugh had gazed long on Robert's long and lovely legs.

"Do I have to?" he whispered nervously, though when he asked he made no effort to conceal himself as, six hours earlier, he would have been frantic to do.

"You do," I told him, but told him with a kindly smile, "And there's nothing to be frightened about. All that will happen is that you'll find out some of what all your wanking has been a lead-up to."

"You won't hurt me, will you?" he queried, not far from frightened tears.

"No way. Never. You enjoy wanking, don't you?"

He nodded, a glistening beginning to show in his eyes.

"Imagine your best ever wank, remember what it was like when Hugh sucked you earlier; well, tonight will be a million times better than either of those."

"It will hurt, though, when you ................" His eyes were fastened on my cock and I knew what he was trying to say. I wasn't hard, no more than half-way there, but my cock is not small and to a boy of thirteen who had never seen a fully grown cock before it must have seemed enormous.

"That's not going to happen tonight," I assured him, "Tonight and the next few nights are about you starting to learn just how wonderful it is to be a boy."


He lay on the left-hand side of the bed, as close to the edge as he could get without falling out, but there is no escape in a bed. I lay close beside him, knowing that he could feel my body warmth just as I could feel his. Any movement he made would bring his flesh into contact with mine, and this he knew, trying to avoid even the slightest shift in his position.

I said nothing, no comforting whispers, no exhortations to relax and enjoy; they would have been meaningless. Instead I put my hand on the little bulge of his shoulder, feeling that almost electric tingle that comes with touching the skin of an adolescent boy.

He flinched a little at the touch but did nothing more. In his mind he had accepted that his body would be molested and he would endure it; he would hate it, be revolted and disgusted by it, but he would not fight it. He would suffer in silence, no begging to be left untouched, to sleep somewhere, anywhere else, no shouts of protest, no tears. He would endure.

I kept my hand still on his shoulder, allowing the warmth from it to seep into his skin, and gradually his body relaxed a fraction. Whilst my hand stayed still it was no threat, and I was in no rush. I had a thirteen-year-old boy in my bed and before sleep came to him I was going to enjoy the beauty of his young flesh, and, because he was a boy, he would be unable to fight the thrill of having his flesh enjoyed.

After minutes I moved my hand slowly down his arm and just as slowly back up again. No flinching this time, just a very slight tensing of his body, but when his brain registered that it was only his arm, he relaxed again. Three or four such soft strokes and when I returned to his shoulder it was with the gentlest of squeezes, and this time he did not flinch or tense.

Soon I was softly kneading his shoulder, gradually increasing the pressure of my fingers; a one-handed massage of just one shoulder, but it was having the desired effect. Slowly, slowly, Robert's young body relaxed and when I put pressure on his shoulder, encouraging him to move from his side to his back, he did, even though he knew that his special area was no longer protected.

From one shoulder across his narrow chest to the other and back again, slowly because I did not want to alarm him, and slowly because the feel of a young boy's body is too good to sample in a rush.

Equally slowly I worked my hand downwards, brushing his young nipples but not teasing or stimulating them, it was too soon for that. Down to the flatness of his stomach and lower still, but not low enough to make contact with his cock, a cock I knew would now be hard and soon be demanding to be touched.

I paused for a moment of the bone of his hip; there is something peculiarly erotic about that bit of a boy. I don't know if others find the same Roger laughs at me when I caress his hip as a prelude to kissing him. He understands well enough the appeal of his thighs, his stomach, his chest and nipples and even his shoulders, but the sexual attraction of his hips escape him utterly.

Robert's hip was all bone, just bone covered by warm, silky skin, but the tips of my fingers were on the softness beyond where hip gives way to groin; perhaps it is the contrast between hard and soft that makes it, for me, such a sexy spot.

Down then to the gently curving smoothness of Robert's thigh. The thighs of a thirteen-year-old boy are always a joy to stroke and caress, but Robert's thighs were beyond the ordinary joy of a boy. They were smooth, of course, as the thighs of any thirteen-year-old boy would be, but Robert's thighs were beyond smooth. They had the silkiness of freshly shaved skin, not even the hint of the beginnings of fuzz that would later grow to hair. Some boys are blessed with thighs that never grow hair and remain smooth always. His father had such legs, as smooth and silky when he was sixteen as they were when he was the age his son was now; Robert would go through his adolescence with legs a man could spunk on just from stroking them.

He parted them for me in response to gentle pressure; not wide apart, but just enough to allow my searching hand to slip between them, to that extra warmth and softness of his inner thigh, and he breathed just a little differently when my hand travelled slowly upwards until my knuckles brushed against the silken smoothness of the pouch that held his young balls.

He knew his cock was next and I allowed him time to appreciate that knowledge before cupping his young balls and then reaching for his hardness.

He was hard, as I knew he would be, and he was as hard as only a very young teen can be hard.

He gasped a little when he was held, but no more than that. He lay still, permitting himself to be held but doing nothing to show that he wanted to be held.

His detached acceptance didn't bother me; he was mine to enjoy as I pleased and I was enjoying his young flesh; the softness and hardness, the silkiness and the warmth, and as I enjoyed him I knew that slowly his body was overcoming his mind, his resistance gradually melting, and long before I made him spunk he would have given himself up to the pleasure that a boy can find in his body.

Slowly I began to wank him, sometimes with just fingers and at others with a full hand enclosing all he had and gradually his body responded. Tiny noises slipped from his mouth, little moans that he tried to stifle; tiny jerks of his cock in my hand that he could not stop from happening, and when I grasped him firmly in my fist and squeezed him hard he could not stop a long "Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh," escaping from his lips.

Jerks and noises were more frequent now, and when I teased the very tip of his foreskin bud with a soft finger he sucked in his breath and his cock throbbed.

I sucked him then and he fucked my mouth, unable to prevent himself, and when he spunked he moaned long and shuddered from toe to head, his body then rigid as his sperm spurted.

Hugh was right, there wasn't much, but it was pure ambrosia, the nectar of the gods.

I made him spunk four more times that night, and on the third and fourth he reached, unasked, for my cock.

I sucked him awake in the morning, a sucking that, once his eyes were open, he responded to with, if not enthusiasm, certainly with enjoyment evident. There would be no stopping his progress now, no more shyness. His mind had been opened to the pleasures of being a boy, and those gates, once opened, will not shut again.

I kept him to myself for his first week, at nights, that is; during the day he was free to feel and be felt, to experiment with the things he had learned. It was hard on Roger and Hugh, I understood that, having to sleep with Adele every night and be subject to her attempts to pervert them, but they managed. Roger confided to me one morning that he had fucked Adele up the arse,

"It had to be better than her cunt," he explained, "But it wasn't anywhere near as good as the real thing. I fucked Hugh later, when she was asleep, and it was so, so much better."

Slowly Robert began to welcome me educating his lovely young body, and when I rimmed and tongued him for the first time he almost fainted from the sheer bliss of it.

The first taste of a young boy's arse is heavenly, the aroma is pure boy and the flavour beyond description. His first, shocked gasp when tongue touches his hole, is music to the ears; the disbelieving tensing of his body as his hole is licked, followed by the relaxing of his flesh and the very soon afterwards attempts to push his opening onto the tongue that is probing at him, are no more than hints of the joy to come when cock enters there.

For four nights I rimmed and fingered him, three fingers inside him, gradually working his hole open while I sucked out his spunk; spunk that became thicker almost by the night. After his fifth night in my bed he was as eager for his body to be used as were Roger and Hugh, and on the sixth night I had Roger join us.
I had to apologise to Hugh at leaving him alone to Adele's tender, perverted mercies, but he knew Robert's arse would soon be his and he did his duty as a boy should.

For an hour I prepared Robert, caressing and stroking young flesh, teasing both his cock and his hole with my mouth and finally rimming his hole into a twitching, pulsing, beacon of desire. Then Roger mounted him, his slender cock sliding easily and painlessly into Robert's begging arse and the boy was a virgin no more.

 

"Well, have you?" Adele demanded once more.

"Not yet," I said, "He'll need a week more of Roger and Hugh before he's ready for me, and then another week to make sure he's safe from being perverted by you. Then I'll let you have his cock, if he wants to give it to you."

"Bet he won't," Roger giggled, "Really, Adele, who wants to fuck a woman when there's boys available?"

 

Hope you enjoyed that, Readers, and if one or two of you were moved to have a wank then it was worth writing it.

 

isukwell@hotmail.co.uk