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Part 10: New Year - I
For days all I could hear outside my window was the constant whir of helicopters. There was an almost continual stream of twin rotor Chinooks passing overhead, this time with Royal Air Force markings. They were a dark olive green color, almost black from a distance, and they always flew nose down as they crisscrossed the sky. Some were carrying slings laden with howitzers or armored vehicles. The distinctive chopping of the air from their twin rotors became incessant. This went on nearly all day, and for some of the night. The rest of the time, I could see the silhouettes of C130 transporters, distinctive with their fat, stubby fuselage and turboprop engines. I watched their unwieldy, almost jerky maneuvers, twisting and turning clumsily in the skies above Verolino, heavy with cargo, like some migrating bird exhausted after a long flight, looking for a safe place to put down. They circled the airfield, always taking the long way around, dropping decoy flares as they approached. Those magnesium flares were very beautiful, burning brightly like some kind of pyrotechnic display as the heavy aircraft banked and tipped its wings this way and that, trying to fool the enemy radar and throw any heat-seeking missiles off the scent. With all this aircraft movement, it was as though Verolino had suddenly become the world's busiest airport. Beyond the compound walls, I could hear the sound of heavy engines - big turbo diesels from armored vehicles, gears crunching and columns of trucks being maneuvered into place. There were echoed shouts, the sound of sturdy boots tramping the sidewalk, and the whir of tailgates and lifting gear, chains clanging and heavy items being dropped with a loud thud. There was so much activity you would have thought Verolino had become some kind of vast construction site. But it wasn't. It was the sound of the UN peacekeeping force preparing to abandon us, just as Ciggy had foreseen.
I thought a lot about Ciggy. I was missing him. I wished he was here with me now. He would know what to do. I was apprehensive about what was going to happen. The satellite news stations were next to useless in predicting anything useful. UNVERO were so tight-lipped about their intentions, supposedly to ensure security, that they gave no indication of their immediate plans. All they would say was that their mandate in Verolino was still in force and that they would continue to protect the UN-declared safe area until it was decided otherwise. I thought that was characteristically ambiguous, since there was a wide scope of interpretation as to who was responsible for doing the deciding.
On top of that, as New Year approached, Verolino was in the grip of a harsh and cruel winter. Almost overnight the temperatures dropped and everything froze over. When the snowstorm was over, the snow lay thick and compacted on the ground, and the initial beauty of the snowstorm had transfigured into a dull gray slush that blanketed everything. Then the snow merely became a hardship and a chore. It was below zero outside. This sterile, forbidding time of year meant that no one had the energy nor the inclination to go looking for a shota boy to fuck. Even the UN boys were not interested. I put it down to the excess of drugs and alcohol over the Christmas period. The Club was relatively quiet over Christmas. It was always a period of downtime for us. There were no rampant military cocks bursting to be fucked into our little boy cunts, or sucked hard until they squirted their sperm into our willing shota boy mouths. The UN contingent had until then provided a steady source of clientele to keep our little butts and cocks busy. But that seemed to slow to a trickle and then dried up altogether. The UN boys didn't seem to want to celebrate Christmas with us. But then, that may have had more to do with the fact that the UNVERO contingent now comprised of troops from Japan and Kuwait, and Christmas didn't seem to mean much to them. Even the volunteers from the relief organizations didn't seem to have the inclination to shed their fuckwads into us. For a good few days we were pretty much redundant.
During that curious few days between Christmas and New Year, when nothing much seems to happen, the Club reopened, and we shota boys went back to work. Some of us were quite relieved to be earning again, others fairly indifferent. Yet others, namely Sunny, grumbled that it was too soon and that he was still tired and fatigued. But then, Sunny was always tired and fatigued. That was why he was always smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. He claimed he needed that to keep him awake. Personally, I think it was the nicotine and caffeine that deprived him of sleep in the first place. Still, that was up to him. I was tired too, but I was also incredibly horny. If I didn't fuck about with anyone for a day or two, I got 'withdrawal' symptoms. When you are at the peak of your sexual performance, young and hard and full of spunk, you really feel the need to fuck. You want to feel your hard little dick pressed firmly into another boy's butt and pumping young spunk deep into his chute. Don't let anybody tell you that fucking is not an essential need. It is as much a need as sleep itself: no matter how much you put it off, you just know you will have to succumb at some point.
We didn't have to wait too long. Eventually New Year's Eve arrived, and the excitement was tangible. We were all still very apprehensive about the military situation, but we really had no choice other than to get on with it. In some ways, the New Year's Eve Bacchanal was a welcome distraction. It was always enjoyable. Hard work, but ultimately fulfilling. Tiring, but oh so much fun. It was actually good to have something else to focus on.
Now the New Year's Eve Bacchanal traditionally took place in the more salubrious part of the hotel. If the weather had been more clement, it might have taken place outside. There were some well-kept gardens and an outdoor pool in the central courtyard of the hotel, overlooked by the more well-appointed bedrooms in the newer part of the complex, where Simon-Peter and his father were staying. Quite a few of the top UN brass were staying in that part of the hotel, I discovered. That was one thing about UNVERO: they were never stingy in providing the best facilities for their commanding officers. UNVERO always commandeered the best of whatever was available. I doubt there was any equivocation that The Saxon Club was the best shota club around. But since the outdoor pool was pretty much out of the question, the New Year's Eve Bacchanal was taking place in what had once been the spa and leisure center of the hotel. It was rarely used these days, and pretty much redundant most of the time since it was difficult to maintain and the water supply was severely restricted. But somehow Guus had managed to pull out all the stops and he got the indoor spa operational. No doubt he had had to grease a few palms, but Guus always got what he wanted in the end. The indoor spa was very elaborately prepared and tastefully fitted out. The floor was marble, and there were ornate pillars, a low ceiling and mosaics on the walls. There were full length mirrors and hidden lighting, which added to the ambience. It was opulent, but not intimidating. In fact it was very welcoming and homely. At one end of the long room there was a circular Jacuzzi, which was really a small pool sunk into the floor. It had room for about twenty people. At the other end of the room was a little arena of beanbags and futons - essentially the fucking area - with enormous blankets and comforters and lots of oversized fluffy pillows scattered everywhere. The sight of it was very inviting and intimate. To one side, there was a small cocktail bar, serving drinks and various other psychoactive delights. There was also a buffet counter, stacked high with edible treats, both sweet and savory. In the background, an elaborate sound system played music of all genres, and in the air were the most alluring scents and aromas, sweet incense was burning, and scented candles added to the pleasantness. In this environment, all the senses were stimulated and pleasured in the most uncompromising way. In some respects it was sensory overload. Guus had literally thought of everything.
I knew from experience that these events were extremely hedonistic and self-indulgent. They were the type of grand and elaborate fuckfest where nothing was forbidden. They encompassed every single vice imaginable, an all-consuming evening of total debauchery which involved just about every earthly pleasure obtainable. Not only were the best of us shota boys provided as entertainment, there was food and drink and drugs all laid on, and all the guests could pretty much do as they liked. There was a litany of prescription drugs available, a whole array of sex aids and sex toys and there were basically no rules. The only stipulation was that there were no guns, and no clothing allowed. It was one of the very few nights that we all performed with numerous tricks. The leisure center was turned into some kind of enormous arena, where the privileged guests would get to pick the shota boy of their choice and do whatever they liked with him. The activities involved just about every fetish and paraphilia you could think of. It covered the entire range of sexual behavior, and anything or everything the men could possibly want to do to a shota boy in a sexual context. It included mild bondage, like tying the boy up and gagging him, maybe giving him a light whipping or caning; it could be watersports, where the boy got pissed on, and some of the more unusual peccadilloes such as spitting on the boy, or wet-and-messy fetishes like covering a naked boy in some kind of messy edible substance, like whipped cream, ice cream or peanut butter. My personal favorite was chocolate sauce. It could even include things like inserting objects into their boycunts. A lot of shota boys liked that and were quite proficient at it, especially Chip who, as I have already said, could take a twelve inch dildo with no problem. There were also dressing up fetishes which included leather or even dressing the boy in diapers. Wet diapers were very popular. Whatever perved-out little fantasy they wanted to act out, they could do it without reservation, and everyone else got to watch. I liked it for its utter perversity. It was exciting just to witness the sheer inventiveness of the depravity they wanted to indulge in. If you were willing and in demand, as Chip and I invariably were, the evening could turn into more of a test of our stamina and endurance rather than our profligacy or prodigiousness. We could take tremendous punishment, taking multiple loads up our butts, and swallowing quite a hefty serving of spunk. By the end of it, our lips would be blistered and our butts would be red raw. Our bodies would be streaked with dried cum stains. We would be hot and sweaty, panting from our exertions, our joints would be creaking and our muscles sore from all the mauling and manhandling.
The evening started off with us shota boys putting on a little show. We cavorted around naked on the futons, guilelessly frolicking around amongst the pillows and beanbags, our hairless stiffies awkwardly jutting into one another. Whilst we played, the guests were assembling. The privileged men, who were all Guus's guests, filtered in slowly, and I was aware of the room gradually filling up. Our admiring audience stood on the sidelines, just biding their time. Some fondled their dicks, enjoying the live show, some just stood back, drinking and smoking, waiting for the Viagra to kick in or until they were stoned and mellow enough to want to join in. They seemed to be in no hurry, and content to savor the sight of us frolicking around on the floor. We were gentle with each other, all of us taking it easy and being loving and affectionate. We wanted to set the tone for the rest of the evening and were determined that it was going to be a loving and easygoing event, not characterized by too much oppressive man-boy sex, no heavy fucking and certainly no violent sex acts. We were all just rolling about naked really, playing with each other's stiffies and giving each other the odd token suck, kissing and sticking our fingers in each other's butts - all pretty fundamental stuff, but a good preamble for what was to follow. The music was already thudding away in the background, some up-tempo dance track that was designed to get everyone's hearts racing and their toes tapping. I was already flying. I was a little high from a joint that Ten had shared with me well before the proceedings were under way. I was full of energy, feeling good and - most importantly - extremely horny. I was lying on top of Chip, just kissing, his diminutive little body trapped underneath me, our little hairless dicks squashed together, and I rubbed my stiffie against him. Chip was really into it, gorging on my lips, twisting his bespectacled head around, sucking my tongue into his little mouth, his pretty lips pouting and twitching expertly. He even thrust his hot little dick up into my tummy, maneuvering his hips with such expertise that his experience was tangible. Meanwhile, the men were watching studiously, like a pride of lions preparing for the hunt - picking out their prey and deciding which boy they were going to target. The lights were dim, but it was just possible to make out the guests as they looked on lasciviously, circling us like predators. Not surprisingly, Chip and I were the first to be claimed.
It was hard to make out much detail in the semi-darkness, but I felt someone lie down next to me on the futon, and a pair of big strong hands pulled me off Chip's little body and onto his. It was a stark contrast. One moment I was pressed up against Chip's hot, hard, smooth little body, the next I was being lifted by a mighty pair of hands, and then warmly embraced by a big, strong man. He was a big guy, firm and muscular and a little hairy. I didn't mind. It was soft, downy hair, not the rough, crinkly kind. He laid me on his chest and started kissing me. His breath smelled of aniseed and tobacco. He stuck his slobbering tongue into my mouth, at the same time fiddling between my legs trying to locate my boyhole. He was already hard, and his dick was pressing insistently into that sensitive spot behind my balls, no doubt seeking the entrance to paradise. I reached down and, even as I lay on top of him, was able to maneuver his dick into the threshold of my little snatch. He held me tightly on top of him, and then thrust hard up between my legs and he was instantly inside me. I felt my little cunt expand with his girth, and he immediately started pummeling into me. He was impetuous and clumsy and a little rough, and the way he held me against him was a little too tight and uncomfortable. But he wasn't thinking of me. When you were being fucked like that, you could always tell when a guy was only thinking about his own orgasm because he hammered away without a thought for your own comfort. At moments like that, you were just a warm cunt - a welcoming orifice for his rampant dick - a mere spunk receptacle. I laid there and let him do what he wanted, hoping he wasn't going to take too long to blow his fuckwad into me. It was one of those ho-hum type fucks that you just submitted to by going through the motions and thinking of something else.
As he was fucking me, I saw that this guy had a tattoo on his upper arm. It was a faded illustration of an anchor with a ribbon intertwined around the shank - usually a sign that he was in the merchant navy. It made sense. His skin was brown and leathery - the result of too much sun and saltwater. I didn't much fancy this guy, so I imagined I was with someone else. As he was stabbing his dick into me, I found myself thinking about Ciggy. I wondered if it was significant that he was the first person that came into my mind. I liked that image. I played it out in my mind, and tried to imagine that it was Ciggy's dick that was busting my little cunt right now. I pictured Ciggy with a great big hard-on, tried to envisage his beautiful cock with an inordinately stiff erection, and Ciggy excitedly burying it into me, his face portraying the delight of finally getting to experience the exquisite pleasure of my little snatch. It was a pleasing vision. Perhaps one day I would play it out for real. You see, even us shota boys allowed ourselves to indulge in a little fantasy from time to time.
When he finally pumped his spunk into me, it was hot and watery. I could feel it warming that little spot at the top of my chute. It was very much like the sensation of swallowing a hot drink, and feeling it burn the inside of your stomach, except this was much lower down, somewhere deep in my pelvis, just below my tummy. He pulled his slick fat dick out of me and I felt his runny jizz trickle out as he withdrew. I laid on top of his mighty frame, rising and falling with his breathing as he recovered. He took a few moments to get his breath back, then kissed me and thanked me. I rolled off him and he got up, no doubt in search of his next fuck. His dick was still stiff, still rampantly sticking out from his hairy balls, and I knew that, with his initial overexcitement relieved, he was probably going to blow a few more loads before the evening was over. What he had just injected into me was just the first.
I turned over, and on the futon next to me was Chip being fucked face down, with a pillow under his hips, raising his hot little butt up in the air. Chip had a beautiful little butt, firm and round and smooth, and very slim hips which made the rear view of his butt infinitely fuckable. The big, surly guy that was astride him was very refined in his technique, drawing back fully and plunging back in with great precision. A good long-dick action was very rare. Consequently, when you did come across a trick that had got that particular technique down to a fine art, you just had to admire it. He was astride Chip, his big muscular thighs straddling the little guy, and his rampant dick pistoning in and out of Chip's little snatch, ready to burst a copious load deep in Chip's narrow little pelvis. Chip's pretty face was pressed sideways into the futon, his little round glasses glinting in the half light, his eyes closed, but he was smiling. Chip was so horny, so virulent, so eager. Such a dedicated little shota boy. Fuck, it was beautiful.
As I laid there on the futon, looking around curiously at all the sex acts that were taking place, I admired the little sea of naked boys and men and the feverish way they were locked together in groups of two or three. Guus's New Years Eve Bacchanal was like a scene from some Hogarthian masterpiece. Boydicks and smooth boy butts everywhere, cavorting with naked men, all thrown together in an all-consuming bacchanalian panorama of hedonism and debauchery and sexual excess. Fuck, it was fantastic. I was amazed at how quickly the guests had got down to business. A few were just talking to their boys, drinking, sharing a joint or just kissing and fondling. Most had thrown themselves into the proceedings and were already fucking feverishly or were at least at the stiffie-sucking stage. It was quite a sight to behold. From somewhere in the little sea of naked bodies a boy urgently cried out 'I'm cumming daddy!' A few laughs and snickers went up, like a little flurry of amusement, amongst the assembled guests, and it helped to lift the tone somewhat.
Across the room, Ten was by the cocktail bar. His job was to dispense drinks, and the only thing that distinguished him from the shota boys was the dickie-bow around his neck, looking like some decorative choker against his smooth olive skin. Other than that, he was completely naked, like the rest of us. He glanced over and saw me looking at him. He smiled and winked. I smiled back. For a few moments I watched Ten as he went about the room with his tray, delivering cocktails and little snacks, collecting empty glasses and getting groped by the guests. He didn't have a hard-on, but that didn't discourage the horny clientele from feeling him up. I liked the way Ten handled their advances. He was such a beautiful boy, with his sultry, Mediterranean looks. He had such a trim, well-sculpted body and good definition, where his burgeoning adolescence was giving him the beginnings of muscles on his arms and chest, and even a quite discernable little six pack. He even had a few thin hairs around his dickie. I could understand how the clients wanted to touch him and stroke him. He was infinitely fuckable. When you saw him, you couldn't help being drawn to him. He was exceptionally beautiful. Ten was the kind of boy who exuded sexuality. Many people said the very same thing about me. I had been told that I exuded sexuality. I don't know if I would go that far, but if I did exude sexuality, it was nowhere near on the same scale as Ten. The difference between me and Ten was that I knew I was sexy. I played on it. Indeed, I earned a living from it. But with Ten, the attraction was in the very fact that he didn't know it. He really didn't know what he had. Sure he was handsome and confident, but there was a quiet self-assuredness about Ten, an x-factor that you couldn't quite put your finger on, an unknowingness that he carried with him, a kind of guileless innocence of his own attractiveness. And that very guileless innocence was a rare and fine trait indeed. In my eyes that made Ten very special.
Ten looked about him and saw that there were no guests waiting to be served. He dumped his empty tray and sauntered over to me. I wasn't with anybody, so he decided to have a quick snog with me. That was the thing about Ten: he only liked boys younger than him. He was only turned on by hairless little dicks, like mine. That was probably why he chose not to become a shota boy, though I'm sure Guus had given him plenty of incentive. Ten scampered over the pillows that were strewn around, nearly treading on a boy who was being spit-roasted by two men, one in his ass, one in his mouth. Ten simply stepped around them and threw himself down on top of me, both of us bouncing back up on the big pile of pillows. He kissed me hard. That was the kind of ad-hoc snog that I didn't mind. Ten was beautiful, with his long black, floppy hair and his dark, emerald green eyes. As I said before, I was kinda in love with him. I knew his feelings towards me were fairly indifferent. Our friendship could never go anywhere, but these little stolen moments with Ten were exquisite. He may have been only a bar boy, but he was also very sexual. As I laid there beneath him, pressed into the pillows under his weight, he rubbed his dick against mine. He was horning up and I thought he was gonna make me cum just by frotting. Ten was an expert frotter. I could feel his firm, rounded butt humping me and as I looked down along the length of his smooth back, his butt going up and down on me, he whispered into my ear.
'You're so fuckin' horny.'
He raised his butt a little and moved up, pressing the tip of his dick against my tummy, rubbing it a little on my belly button. Then he rolled off me. Shit! I wanted him to make me cum. Then I realized he was fiddling with something in his hand. He held a phial of poppers out for me with the cap flipped open. He took a big hit, holding the opened cap up to his nose and inhaled deeply. Then he proffered it to me. I leaned over and inhaled a deep hit of the heady liquid. As I did so, Ten held out his arms and rolled back on top of me so we could both enjoy the moment together. As soon as the fumes hit my brain, my heart jumped and started hammering away in my chest at warp speed. Two seconds later, with Ten lying on top of me, both of us in an affectionate embrace, I was in orbit. The whole room fell away and I was instantly launched into the stratosphere, plunged into a warm womb of pure pleasure where my brain was arrested in a momentary seizure of deep ecstasy. I couldn't think. I couldn't move. I could only feel a rush of pure energy and a profound high that left my head swirling and my cheeks flushed with blood. That was the thing about poppers - the high was incredible, but apart from a few dead brain cells, there were no lasting effects. A few seconds later my head had cleared and I was able to carry on as normal.
When we had both recovered, Ten got up on all fours above me, and started jacking his dick, firmly stroking it in his fist and pressing the head into the soft flesh of my tummy at the same time. As he did so, he was staring down into my eyes. I laid there submissively, fawning up at him, totally overawed by how much I adored this boy, and waiting to see what he wanted to do. He took a furtive look about him, and saw that everyone was busily attending to their boys. No one was about to stop him, so he decided to go for the win: he started jacking his dick in earnest and he whispered down at me.
'I'm gonna spunk you baby boy.'
I loved it when he called me that.
He was gonna cum on me. I put my arms behind my head to give him free reign, to demonstrate that he could do whatever he liked to my body. He took his big thick boydick in his fist and moved up to sit astride my chest. I giggled playfully. I knew what was coming. Ten rose up on his knees, his thighs straddling my chest, and his fist fudunking away over his rampant boycock. It loomed threateningly over my face, purple and engorged, and about to blow angrily.
When he was getting close, Ten expertly reached for the poppers again and, using only one hand, flipped the top and inhaled, holding one nostril closed. Then he also held it up to my nose, so I could get the hit with him. As the fumes of the poppers infused into his bloodstream, he threw himself forward, so that his dick was directly over my face and he cried out urgently.
'Oh fuck!'
My brain went into overdrive as Ten's orgasm began to play out. It was almost as though we became detached from what was going on around us. For a few moments, all that existed was me lying beneath Ten, and his beautiful body above me in a state of seizure. My head was rushing, but the events I was witnessing had reverted to slow motion. Ten spunked good and hard. I have already said, he spunked up a lot for a boy of his age. He was gonna be one of those boys who ejaculated copious amounts and could easily manage twelve good-sized squirts. Six to eight was about average for a boy in his prime - I should know, I've counted - so in my view anything more than ten squirts should be considered noteworthy. His hot boyspunk lashed my face with thick wet gobs. His spunk was always thick and sticky, not thin and watery, like mine. It had a beautiful stringy viscosity to it and it was pure white in color, making it not only inviting to swallow, but also good to play with.
As his orgasm receded, so did the high of the poppers, and Ten was still sat astride me, slightly breathless with his wet cock in his hand. I laughed, even through a faceful of his boyjizz. It was pooling in one of my eyes and running down my cheeks and neck. Ten thoughtfully reached for a towel from one of the stacks that had been strategically positioned around the floor, and he lovingly wiped me down. At the same time, he stared mischievously into my eyes, both of us content and elated by our spunkgames. I licked what I could from around my mouth, and even dabbed my fingers in what was left, so I could suck it off, but the rest Ten cleaned off me and then took a deep breath. He swooped down and kissed me, by way of thanks, then got up.
'Ah well, back to work,' he said resignedly.
I felt a pang of disappointment as the weight of his beautiful body lifted off me. I enjoyed what he did, but I was left wanting. I really wanted to cum on him too. But Ten just turned and walked off, the cheeks of his gorgeous olive-skinned butt shifting sexily from side to side as he went. I would have loved to squirt my boyjizz over that butt. Instead, little Cloud was left forlornly straining upwards with stiffness, his load still intact, probably wondering why no one was making him spunk up. I realized that I had already taken two spunkloads but was yet to cum myself. That was not a very auspicious start to the evening. I could feel my little balls churning, preparing to squeeze out a wad of kidspunk that was already starting to leak from the tip of my stiffie. It was precum of course, and left a tantalizingly shiny little blob of clear gel accumulating on the opening of my exposed cockhead, like some kind of liquid appetizer, waiting expectantly for some eager tongue to lick it off.
I stood up frustratedly, watching Ten walk away, and Sunny came up to me. He emerged from the throng, having witnessed what had just happened, and decided to offer me a bite of the rather large cooking apple he was parading around with. How symbolic I thought, just like Eve in the Garden of Eden. He was using the apple as an excuse to stop and snog everybody. He stepped towards me with his arms open and gave me a quite affectionate hug and a kiss, speaking softly into my ear.
'Never mind lovey,' he said, in his camp and husky tones, really quite sympathetic, 'He's a real heartbreaker that one.'
Sunny licked my cheek and started feeling me up all over. He seemed to be in a very lovey-dovey mood. He stuck his tongue in my mouth and stroked my back, pressing his erect boycock against me. He sure was frisky. But he was very sweet. He was being quite complimentary and gentle with everyone as he shuttled around the room. His dick was inordinately hard even as he did so, but his pupils were so dilated and he was so hyper I knew he must be on something. Knowing Sunny it was probably E. It was the only time I ever found Sunny remotely tolerable. Whatever could be said about E, the transformation on boys like Sunny was remarkable. It was as though he was magically transformed from his usual neurotic, self-obsessed bitchiness to a relaxed, sociable and positively likeable boy. It was amazing.
When we had all been fucked at least once, including Sunny - who, whatever you said about him, could take cock like a real pro - there was a hiatus where everyone rested and recharged. It was essential to ensure there were plenty of breaks, if not just to let the boys recover. The event could go on all night. That was several hours. Sure, some of us could keep going all night non-stop, but at some point I knew we were going to need time for a drink, a quick puff on a joint and something to eat. After all, a tummy full of spunk, whilst certainly containing plenty of protein, could hardly constitute a balanced meal.
One by one, as we finished off our initial encounters, the boys all regrouped over by the Jacuzzi. As the guests were resting between bouts, we boys jumped into the bubbling water. Guus was trying to keep us all in order and trying to get our attention, but we were all too hyper and excited. It was rather like trying to hitch up a team of frisky ponies. The other boys were yammering away animatedly, wide eyed and antsy. Guus too was naked. He had joined in and had been walking around amongst his guests playing the genial host, making sure everyone had what they wanted. I noticed he was wearing a cockring, tightly trapping his cock and balls. It looked painful. His balls were pulled up tight, so that the skin was shiny and stretched. They looked about to burst. His big fat dick was sticking out long and straight and hard and the tip was glistening with precum. Guus stood by manipulating his thick dick. It was clear that he wanted to fuck too. Knowing Guus, he wasn't going to miss an opportunity to dip his wick in fuckboy ass. He certainly knew how to sample the delights on display and was never too unforthcoming to stick his hand in the cookie jar. One thing I will say about Guus, he may have been fat and camp, but he sure fucked as good as any macho military guy. For one thing, Guus had a big fat cock that was infinitely satisfying, and he could go for hours. He could cum two, three times in one evening and still keep wood, and even after his well was dry and he had virtually depleted his cum reserves, he could keep going. When Guus fucked, he fucked like a porn star. He could bend your knees right back against your shoulders, holding both your ankles in one hand, while holding the base of his dick in the other, piledriving that thick rod into you with such ease and familiarity. Yup - Guus was an expert boyfucker.
Guus jumped into the Jacuzzi with us and the other boys all gave an excited cheer. I wasn't sure if it was because they welcomed the prospect of getting fucked by him or because of the size of his splash. After submerging himself briefly, Guus's rotund frame bobbed back up, spluttering the water out of his face. For a few moments he laid back, enjoying the therapeutic bubbles of the pool. He wallowed about for a bit, literally rolling around with us all in the warm water. He still had his cockring on, and his big dick was red and engorged with blood. Guus was in quite good spirits. He seemed relaxed and playful, and started grabbing at the boys crotches, causing some of the younger ones to squirm about and squeal excitedly. Then he scooted over to the nearest boy, floating up behind him, grabbed the boy's hips, lying on his side, and was instantly inside him. Getting fucked by Guus was an occupational hazard. To most of us it was as routine as getting a haircut. Watching him was an education. He fucked good and hard, working his way around the tub, fucking each boy in turn. He would simply slip out of one boy and turn over, slipping into another with consummate ease. It was like a game of musical butts - a matter of chance who's butt he happened to be fucking when it was time to blow his wad.
Well, it was me that got Guus's spunk in the end. It was just a question of who he chose to take his load, and it was my little ass he filled. After fucking all the other boys, it was me that finished him off. I felt quite privileged. Guus fucked me longer than any of the others. We never openly acknowledged it, but I knew I was his favorite. I think Guus even had little fantasies about me. I could just imagine him pumping his big fat rod thinking about my slim, slight, hairless body. I bet he spunked real hard imagining his big thick fuckstick sinking into my soft, tight, round little ass. Guus was such a sexy, dirty bastard. Fuck, it made my hairless little dick hurt with hardness just thinking about it.
I knew when he was getting close. When Guus was heading for his bomb run, the other boys suddenly quieted down and I could feel them all watching us, fascinated by the sight of Guus digging his dick into me. They arranged themselves around the edge of the tub, kicking their toes up out of the water, and savored the show. I laid back quiescently, floating on the surface, my skin shiny with a greasy sheen and my usually shaggy mop of thick blond hair now slicked back with wetness. The warm water was bubbling away around my ears, and Guus pinned me against the edge of the Jacuzzi. He parted my legs, forcing himself between my thighs, and pumped his dick into me with all his strength. He was grunting with each thrust and ramming that thick fuckstick so deep into my boycunt that it was actually quite painful. I didn't mind. I knew I was gonna cum even harder with his big dick striking my gland. He knew how to press into the sides of my chute as he was fucking into me. His technique was excellent. Guus didn't last too long in my veteran little cunt. When Guus was cumming, he rammed his dick so hard into me, I had to grasp the sides of the pool to meet his thrusts. Then he spunked inside me. He emitted a deep, guttural gurgle as he filled my cunt. His spunk was warm and thick, and he even had the presence of mind to pull out as he was cumming, so that the last couple of jets of his spunk went all over my balls and tummy, to be washed away by the pool water. The sight of that was enough to tip me over the edge. He knew my boycum was imminent and, like the expert boyfucker that he was, reinserted his dick to coax my orgasm along. When I cummed, I nearly screamed my orgasm. My iron hard little pole was sticking out of the water and it squirted good and hard with Guus's dick hammering my gland. My hot boysperm was ejected into the vastness of the bubbling pool, my few precious drops of unripe kidspunk dissolving in the hot, fizzy water. The other boys all cooed and gasped as they witnessed it. I breathed a long, deep sigh of satisfaction. This was my first cum of the evening, and my dick had been hard for so long it craved relief. Finally, I had achieved release. It was a good, hard hands-free cum. Good old Guus. I loved having the spunk fucked out of me.
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