Date: Sat, 20 Jan 2018 20:25:52 +0100 (CET)
From: jpcreamcheese@tutanota.com
Subject: THE CIRCLE GAME - GAY MALE - URINATION

THE CIRCLE GAME

The following story is total fiction, you might even say fantasy, and has
been written to amuse, intrigue, entertain, divert and delight.  It
contains scenes of graphic inter-generational sex. It is also scatalogical
in parts. If these are not to your taste, or if they are outlawed in your
city, state, providence, country, or jurisdiction, read no further.

Why bother writing this stuff anyway? Well, you don't need a psychologist
to tell you it's a form of sublimation. It's far safer to read and write
this stuff, to act out desires this way, than to go out and endanger
yourself or youngsters below the age of consent.

Neither I nor Nifty, nor, I suspect the vast majority of writers who
contribute condone, approve of, encourage, preach or practise
inter-generational sex. But to say that there aren't adults who fantasize
along these lines is patently absurd - as absurd as saying the majority of
boys don't masturbate. In fact, it is far healthier to read about such
relationships than to go out and actively seek them. I'm not sure sex
offenders are permitted access to Nifty while in prison.

If you have not yet reached the age of consent, read no further. It is not
the intention of Nifty nor this writer to fill your head with dreams,
desires and urges which, as yet, may be only vague and inchoate. There's
lots of fun to be had on the Net; go and find what is appropriate for
you. Think what you can do with Minecraft!

Donations - What would we do without Nifty? Imagine waking up horny one
morning to find that Nifty had disappeared forever. That's when we'd
realise that we should have made a donation, however small, every now and
again. Don't put off doing it. Just do it. Because, we all know, every
little bit helps.

THE CIRCLE GAME

"Mum, mum... He's here, Sir's here!"

Elwyn - ten-years-old - a small for his age, slim, well-defined chest,
nipples like cherries - high-rounded bum, bubble butt as they say - shaggy
blond hair hanging on his collar -blue eyes, thick-lashed - small ears,
lickable - flawless skin - high cheekbones - lips like Cupid's bow, perfect
teeth.

His class teacher calls him 'Angel'. Not to his face, of course, and not in
front of the class. As angelic as Elwyn is, he is all boy, though he isn't
beyond flirting a little to get his own way.

Elwyn comes bounding out of the kitchen door at the back of the house. Eyes
are shining, hair bouncing on his collar. He stops in front of me,
breathless. "I thought you might not come. Mum says you might call the trip
off. You won't, will you?" There's a note of desperation in his voice. I
find notes of desperation in a young boy's voice very appealing, don't you?

His mother steps out of the kitchen, fag hanging from her mouth, and again
I wonder how a slag like her could have produced a boy like Elwyn. His
stunning looks must have come from the other side of the family, though
we'd never know exactly from whom. Elwyn was a little bastard. His mother
had only a vague idea whose seed he might be. She told me you see. Mums
tell the school counsellor everything, and I was the school counseller, so
when she bleated she needed some respite from motherhood, I 'reluctantly'
offered to take Elwyn on the five-day camping trip I was taking two other
boys from a different school. She jumped at the chance. Well, if you can't
trust a school counsellor, who can you trust? I am an expert in 'special
needs', and, if a boy has 'special needs', I'm right there to make sure
they are fulfilled. And Elwyn would have special needs, even if I had to
create them myself.

If the truth be told, she didn't give a fuck about Elwyn. She wanted him
off her hands for a few days, and I was the answer to her prayers. Funny
thing is, Elwyn was the answer to mine. Me and the best-looking kid in Year
6, up in the woods for five days, on our own, nobody for miles around. (Oh,
yeh, there were no other two boys.) Things could hardly get better than
that. Elwyn already adored me. He should. I'd invested enough time in
him. From the moment I spotted him I singled him out for special, if
discreet, attention. Little responsibilities, extra duties, smiles, grins,
pats on the bum, praise in front of the other boys, everything
ten-year-olds thrive on. More than anything else, I gave him attention,
something he rarely received from his mother. She didn't starve him, she
didn't ill-treat him, she dressed him well, but from what I could see she
gave him little attention and less affection. Young boys are like
puppies. Give them attention, affection, praise and little rewards now and
again, and pretty soon they'll be eating out of your hand - regardless of
what's in it.

"Thank fuck, you're here," she says. "He just won't shut up about you. I'll
get his stuff," and steps back into the house. Why doesn't she just grab
Elwyn by the back of his shorts and throw him into the van alongside
me. She can hardly wait to get him off her hands. I can hardly wait to get
my hands on him. Elwyn stands there blushin

I pat the passenger seat, "Hop in, buddy." Elwyn clambers in, leans back,
stretches out his bare legs, and gives a big sigh. I smile and lean over
him to pull across the safety belt. Halfway there I drop my hand onto a
bare leg, run it up over his knee, and slip my fingers under the hem of
shorts. As I chat to him, my fingers casually caress the cool silky
skin. I've never believe in wasting time. If I've done the groundwork
properly, Elwyn won't push my fingers away. He'll be confused, of course,
puzzled. Why am I doing this? It must be a way of showing him how much I
like him. He daren't stop me. He has too much to lose. Not only his place
on the trip - he's yet to realise he is the trip - but my attention, my
affection, his place on the trip depends on me liking him, and he'll do
nothing to jeopardise that.

A ten-year-old can't put these into thoughts. Would you be able to if a
man's fingers were under your shorts, brushing your underpants? Your whole
body is blushing. Part of you is saying 'no'. After all, you've been taught
that this is wrong. But why does it feel so right? If this is the way to
get affection, you'll go along with it, won't you?

Your lips are close to his ear, one of those small perfectly-shaped
ears. You're talking about the trip, where you're going, the camp you'll
set up, the things you'll do, the fun you'll have. You mention the other
kids have called off. You're going on with the trip - just for Elwyn. "I
can call off the trip if you want," you say. "All you have to say is
'Don't'." A slight shake of the head. Elwyn doesn't want you to stop. You
let your fingers trace the bottom of his ball sac. "Just say 'Don't' if you
don't want to come on the trip."

He shakes his head almost imperceptibly

"This it's just us, just us."

Not strictly true. In fact not true at all. But then what do you expect
from a liar. You've invited a friend - Ryan. A friend who shares boys with
you, so fair's fair. And you need time, time to get Elwyn used to whatever
you want, to anything you want, to everything you want. Ryan's dirty,
really dirty, so you want to make sure Elwyn won't even want to say 'no' to
whatever it is you and your friend want.

I've parked the van out of sight of the kitchen window. I whisper in
Elwyn's ear: "Excited, baby?" He nods. I wonder if he registered the use of
the word 'baby'. "Don't I deserve a little kiss?" He nods. Plants a little
kiss on my cheek. "Not that baby stuff," I whisper, "a real kiss." I lean
into him and kiss him full on the lips, the tip of my tongue probing until
he opens just enough for me to push my tongue halfway into his mouth. A
gasp.

His head goes back. His mouth opens, and I'm in. My tongue is deep in his
mouth. I fence with his. He is forced to fence with mine. He is trying so
hard to breath he doesn't register my fingers have slipped under his briefs
to grasp his stiffy. I hear footsteps and pull back, smiling as I think
where my tongue and Elwyn's are going to end up long before this trip is
over. There are tighter holes than mouths to explore with our tongues.

The 'slag' comes bundling out of the kitchen: "Sorry to keep you
waiting. Couldn't find his swim things."

I'm tempted to say swim things are the last things he'll be needing but
limit myself to "That's okay, ma'am. We've been chatting about the trip. I
know Elwyn's going to love it. He's looking forward to every bit of it."

"Yeh, I've never seen him so excited." She pauses. Why the fuck doesn't she
hug him, give him a kiss, say his fucking name. She doesn't deserve a boy
like Elwyn. Neither do I. But at least I can give him some of what he's
been missing. "You'd better be off then," she says. "Don't want to keep the
other boys waiting."

"No, ma'am," I say, slip the van into gear, and, hey nonny no, off we jolly
well go. I look down at Elwyn's crotch. His erection is still evident. He
follows my glance, blushes, tries to push it to the right and a bit of
sight. "Hey, baby," I grin. "Don't do that. You've got a lovely dick, and
it looks even better when it's like that. Mine, too." I glance down at my
crotch. Elwyn follows my glance. My erection is hugely outlined beneath the
zip of my jeans. No pointing pushing it right or left. I'm not going to
hide that no matter where I shove it..... Well, I don't know.

Ten minutes later and we're bowling along the motorway. Ten in the morning
and already around 22C, the sun a golden penny in a clear blue sky. Elwyn
takes some time to get over his shock but soon we're chatting away about
what we have to do when we get to the campsite. Of course there is no
campsite. There's our tent by a lake in the middle of nowhere. In the five
years I've spent out there - Oscar, Noah, Elwyn, Gabe... can't remember the
names of the other boys. They were the 'special' ones.

Elwyn gets animated when I tell him we've got a gun shooting lead pellets
in.22 caliber - and we'll go out shooting stuff, mainly squirrels. Another
taboo to break. You see if a kid starts killing stuff it makes him feel
grown up. If he feels grown up, he can do what the big boys do. Right? So
I'm piling it on. Giving Elwyn more and more to lose. That's something I
don't talk about as we leave his childhood behind like a bit of roadkill. I
need Franke relaxed, responsive, cooperative. Even when we stop for cold
drinks and a piss at a roadside cafe, I resist the temptation to go into
the toilets with him - hey, I might be a pedo but I ain't no perv. But I
take the opportunity to dump his swim things in a rubbish bin. He won't be
needing them.

An hour later we leave the motorway and start bumping along the unadopted
road into the woods. Mine's a Toyota Hi-Lux 2.5 HL2 D-4D Single Cab 142 BHP
that takes the ruts and bumps with ease. After a while I pull to a stop.

"Time for you to do your share of the driving," I announce.

Elwyn's big blue eyes widen. I grin. "Slide over here," I say, opening my
legs wide. What boy can resist? He slides over and sits between my
legs. His round bottom is jammed into my crotch. I'm already erect. He
grips the wheel. I start the engine. Slip into gear. "Here we go," I
breathe into his ear. Off we go. His concentration is total. Focus fixed on
the track ahead.

I breathe into his ear: "All you have to say is 'Don't' and we'll turn
round and go straight back home."

I edge down the zip of his shorts as slowly as I can. I want him to
understand what's happening. Time for a decision, Elwyn baby. There's no
decision really. I flick open the button of the waist band. Raise his bum
just a little. He does the rest, raising himself until I wriggle down his
shorts and underpants to his knees. I run my palms and fingers along his
thighs, under his t-shirt, over his belly, up his chest, down towards his
penis but not touching it. I urge his legs open. Slide two fingers under
his balls. My middle finger slides back and forth over his
perineum. Heading towards his arsehole but not quite getting there.

I want Elwyn to know there's nothing off limits. I can feel his breathing
grow more shallow. I know his erect penis is straining. I can feel the tip
of it against my thumb. I want to bring to him to the edge again and
again. I won't let him tip over until he begs for it, even though I'm sure
he doesn't even know what an orgasm is. The most attractive thing about
Elwyn is his innocence. That won't last the trip but he has lots of other
attractions that make this investment worthwhile.

Elwyn, you can drive my car. Yes, you're gonna be a star.

We pull into the campsite around noon. The temp's touching 26C. Elwyn is
surprised by the size of the tent, which, as he says, is big enough for his
whole class. Not quite but more than enough room for us. He's surprised to
see a full-size double mattress - "Nothing but the best for us, babe," I
say. Neither of us is hungry, so it's swim time in the lake sparkling only
50 yards away. I help the boy unpack and stow away his stuff. He can't find
his swimsuit. He's sure it was in the holdall. I help him look for it. No
luck. It's skinny dipping for both of us.

Elwyn blushes and gives me his startled fawn look.

"Hey, we're both guys," I say, and add, "You've nothing to be ashamed
of. In fact, you're a big boy for your age. You sure you're only ten?"

The ten-year-old manages a grin. I strip off double quick. Never give them
time to think. I grab a small hold-all, turn and stroll bare-arsed down to
the lake. I don't look back. Never ogle at a boy when he's stripping for
the first time. Make it all seem natural. I stride into the water. It's
like warm soup. I duck my head under the water. I turn and look
back. Elwyn's standing at the edge. He's naked, his hands covering his
private bits. "Come on in, you big sissy," I shout. No boy can stand that
insult. He takes his hands away from his groin, cups them behind his head,
strolls, stumble and falls face first into the water. He comes up spouting
water. God, he's beautiful.

I stroke my way to the small raft secured 50 yards out. Did I mention I'm a
teacher as well as Head of Special Needs? I teach PE (physical education)
and swimming is one of my specialities. I don't want to risk being immodest
but I swim for the county. I'm 26. I'm a teacher. I'm CRB checked so kids
are safe with me. I've got the certificate to prove it. I haul myself onto
the raft. I look back. Hey, I knew Elwyn can swim but I didn't know he
could swim this well. The kid's good, very good.He reaches the raft, tries
to pull himself up and on. He gets halfway. I put my foot against his chest
and push him back in. He tries again. I push him in again. There's an even
bigger splash.

"Hey, that's not fair!"

"Life's not fair. Get used to it," I push him back in again.

It's third time lucky for Elwyn. As he's pulling himself out, I dive right
over him hitting the water with hardly a splash. Boys will do anything for
men they admire. Before the trip is over Elwyn will do anything for me, and
I mean anything. I show off in the water for a few minutes, paddle water,
and shout, "Get in. It's time for your lesson."

His shyness has gone. He jumps in, arse first, splash. I swim over, get
under him, hold him straight, correct his legs and arms, and in ten minutes
he's made improvements and he knows it. He paddles water. "Thanks, sir," he
grins. Ducks under. Surfaces and spouts a mouthful into my face. We're both
laughing, relaxed and laughing, comfortable with each other. Back to the
beach, I signal.

The beach is real , almost. A few years ago they started to make the area a
holiday resort. Poured thousands of tons of soft silver sand on this side
of the lake.  The money ran out. The project collapsed. The sand
remained. Now the spot was all ours.

"Let's start a tan," I say. "Lie down." Give orders not
suggestions. Ten-year-olds rarely argue against direct
instructions. Elwyn's shyness has returned. I spread a huge towel. "On your
front. Start on your back." He's grateful to have the option. It seems
safer. Gratitude is a wonderful thing in boys. I slip an inflated cushion
under his head. Let's increase the boy's gratitude.

I sit beside him. God, his body is a feast. So small, so vulnerable. I
reach into the hold-all, get a tube of suntan cream, open, squeeze onto my
right palm and start just below the boy's neck. I caress his skin, silk on
silk. He sighs, adjusts himself, a dimple in his right buttock
twitches. Thank fuck, I have some control. I work on his shoulders, narrow
waist, and his bubble bum, stroking at first, the gently squeezing and
kneading. He adjusts himself again. My creamy fingers slip between the
cheeks of his arse, gently widening them and stroking the inner
walls. Elwyn's helpless. He's got a stiffy but he doesn't want me to know
it. Part of him wants to stop my hand, part of him wants to see what
happens next. His teacher wouldn't... would he?

His teacher fucking well would and does. The tip of my middle finds the
starfish edge of his anus and strokes it ever so gently. I apply gentle
pressure. His teacher isn't going to... is he?  The boy instinctively
raises his arse. It's not an invitation but his full weight is pushing his
cock against the packed sand below and that's uncomfortable. If only he
could roll over. He can't. Not unless I give a signal. I've no intention of
doing that.

I lean over him, breathe in his ear, "Open your legs, baby." He opens
them. I gently pull the cheeks apart. There it is. Elwyn's most secret,
intimate place. Only a few hours ago he was lying in bed imagining what the
trip would be like. No way he could have imagined this.

I keep his cheeks apart, lower my face, run my tongue the length of his
crack, pausing to give his anus a few licks. God, that cream is yucky, but
I'm willing to make the sacrifice. I slip one hand, one arm beneath him and
raise his arse to my face. I kiss and suck his hole. I wonder what's
happening in the kid's head. How is he processing an experience that's
almost beyond imagining.

He's lying naked on a sandy in the middle of nowhere. His teacher, naked
too, is kissing, licking and sucking at a part of him that even he's never
seen. A part of him he's been taught to believe is dirty beyond words. But
if it is..... He needn't worry, if that's what he's doing. I've no
intention of applying suntan cream to where the sun don't shine. I've got
plans but not for now. I slip one beneath him. I take his hard-on between
two fingers. His erection is as hard as ivory. I hear the boy moan, he
tries not to, but he can't help it. Could you? Without warning, I remove my
hand, slap his arse, and call out, "Come on. You're starting to burn."
That's a lie. "Back to the water. Let's clean off. Lunch. Then squirrel
hunting." I leap up, leaving him lying there, stroll down to the water,
stride into the water, dive, swim for the raft. I don't look back. After
all, it's only right to respect the boy's modesty, for now.

Back at the tent we're both respectable, in shorts. "I'll set the
barbeque," I say. "You get the fish."

"Where's the fish?" Elwyn asks.

"In the fucking lake. Where do you think? There's rods over there, take
one, and some bait. The fucking fish are in the fucking lake. Go get 'em,
baby."

Elwyn gives me his trademark look - startled fawn. "But I've never..."

"There's lots of things you've never..." I laugh. "But you're going to
learn on this trip. Hold on. I'll come with you. But you're not getting of
mine. Catch your own fucking fish," I laugh. Before this trip's over, the
boy will be telling me to "Fuck off!" Quite an achievement for a
ten-year-old to tell his teacher.

We wander down to the lake. I show him a spot over-hanging the lake, nice
and shady. We settle down. I show him how to bait the line, how to cast
it. The lake's well-stocked. We cast our lines. Not bad for a beginner. A
couple of minutes late: "I've got one, sir, I think I've got one." His
unbroken voice trembles with excitement. "Draw it in gently, gently," I
say. "Don't let it get away....." I smile. "Just the way I'm drawing you
in," I say to myself.

It's fair-sized catch. Beginner's luck. Let's hope he keeps it up. "Right,
get three more like that and we've got lunch. I'm going to set up the
bbq. Think you can handle it, baby?" For the first time Elwyn gives me his
full-frontal smile. "You bet, sir."

"And stop calling me 'sir'. When we're out here, on our own, you're
Elwyn. I'm Daniel - Dan. Got it?"

"Got it." (He pauses then adds...) "Sir." Four respectable fish, sliced
peppers, sliced garlic bread, thinly sliced potatoes (par boiled) go onto
the bbq, and, if I say so myself, they're fucking delicious. Elwyn is
bursting with pride. He couldn't say a word before, now he can't stop
talking. You'd think he's caught Moby Dick: I pour him a pint of that
Scottish muck Irn Bru. I let him stuff himself. He burps a couple of times,
blushes. "Better out than in," I laugh and he lets go a couple of real
belters. He's looking sleepy now.

"Stretch yourself out inside," I say. "Forty winks, then we'll let those
fucking squirrels have what's coming to them."

"Yeh, fucking squirrels," he yawns. It's great to hear the boy use bad
language. Gonna make a man of him yet.

Have you ever lain beside a ten-year-old stretched out almost naked on a
mattress in a shady tent on a hot sunny summer's afternoon?  Try it. You'll
love it.

I lie beside him, and perform an intimate inspection. He has a long white
neck, longer than you'd expect on a young boy. I run my lips its length
again and again. Those small fragile ears. I stick the tip of my tongue
inside and wiggle it. Why? Why not? I run my man's lips over his boy's
lips. Move down to his chest. I love its curve. He has a little puppy
fat. I love that. Take each cherry nipple, pinkish brown, between my lips,
pull and suck on them. So much better than those tiny flat colourless
kiddie nipples you can't get a grip of. Down to his belly button I
go. Someone cut his umbilical cord with care and precision, a cute little
innie, ideal for licking, kissing, tasting. Funny to think a boy as
beautiful as Elwyn came out of his whore of a mother - I wonder if she
takes it in the arse. I wonder if taking it in the arse runs in the
family. I hope so - for Elwyn's sake.

I love every bit of a boy's body but one bit I especially like is where the
torso fits into the lower half. You know the bit I mean. Where the torso
fits into the thighs and buttocks. Angel wings. I love them. I kiss and
lick Elwyn's for ages, gently, the boy needs his sleep. I choose his right
hand side and keep sucking the same spot, not too much, not too long, but
enough to give the boy a small hickey. A purplish bruise like a pair of
lips! It should last about five days.

Which is what he's got now - nocturnal penile tumescence, and it's two
o'clock in the afternoon. I wonder if Elwyn gets a morning woody. Pretty
odd if he doesn't. Wonder if he plays with it. Pretty odd if he
doesn't. Wonder if I'm going to play with it. Too fucking true I am.

I lay my head on his lower belly, my eyes six inches from his stiffy, and
edge back his foreskin. It easily covers the boy's cockhead. Exactly the
way I like. Few things are more thrilling than sliding back a boy's
foreskin for the first time, even if he can't see and feel you doing
it. Hurrah for England. Few English boys are circumcised so there's plenty
foreskins to go round. I love what gathers under pubescent boys' foreskins:
smegma is its own delight, at least in kids of that age.

I pull Elwyn's cock away from his body; it's a true stiffy. Three and half
inches long, and as thick as my thumb - not bad for a ten-year-old, not bad
at all. Gorgeous colour: ivory pink, with a small blue vein running three
quarters of its length. Not sure if his balls have started dropping but one
is slightly lower than the other. Should make getting both of them into my
mouth - along with his dick - easier. Wonder how he'll cope with mine. When
I think about some of the cocks I took in my mouth - and up my arse - when
I was his age... but that's for later.

I straddle Elwyn's body, a knee on either side of his chest, so that I can
look at his face as I jack off. Don't worry, I'm not to jerk off into his
face - not yet anyway - but I want to be looking at that sweet innocent
face when I cum over his chest and neck. I haven't shot my load for four or
five days so there's gonna be a lot of the creamy white stuff.

For a moment I think about holding open his lips and mouth and squirting
the whole cum load down his throat. That wouldn't be fair, and if I'm
anything, I'm a fair man. But it's not easy. The innocence, the
vulnerability, the trust are overwhelming. That's what makes it so
exciting. I feel a huge turd my arse but learned long ago, never shit in
your own nest, or at least not in the room/tent where you're going to be
sleeping. Whatever happens, you've got to have standards.

For the record, my cock's close to eight inches, thick, and uncut. Like
Elwyn, I've got foreskin that improves the wanking experience. It's awesome
(shit awful word but for once it's accurate) to look at the boy's face,
watch his eyelids flutter as I work my cock only inches from his face. I
love to feel my spread buttocks against his skin.

I can masturbate around 10 minutes before coming but not with a naked
ten-year-old beneath. I don't make two minutes before I'm spraying cum
across the boy's shoulders and neck. Three big globs hang from his chin,
one lands on his mouth. With my fingers I brush the cum along his
lips. He's likely to lick it in while he's waking up. I reach for the
tissue paper I've left within reach. I clean myself, then Elwyn, leaving a
little on his lips. He'll lick that reflexively as he wakes up. Another
first for Elwyn.

I sigh, slip off Elwyn's body, and lie down alongside him. I set my
internal alarm clock. Within seconds I'm sleeping the sleep of the just.

Four o'clock-ish. I rise, pull on my shorts, lean down, and cradling Elwyn
in my arms, I carry him down to the edge of the lake. Only ten-years-old
but he's a well-built boy and I'm happy to lay him down in the warm shallow
water. With my fingertips, I start washing away the shiny, silvery cum
that's hardened on his chest and neck. His eyes flicker open. A half
smile. He closes them again.

I pick him up, take five steps into the deeper water and drop him.

Splash!

His eyes fly open. He splutters and spouts. I stand there laughing. He
spits out the last of the water. Screws his eyes at me, then starts to
laugh. He looks down. Realises he is naked - and getting a hard-on. I start
laughing. He starts to cover himself up. Then he starts laughing and
washing himself down.

"Hurry up," I say. "Get your shorts on. Get your rifle. Let's get them
fucking squirrels."

"Fucking squirrels," he echoes. Makes me proud to hear my boy. I turn and
head for the tent.

If you think seducing pre-pubescent boys is easy, you've got another think
coming. And hunting squirrels can be even trickier. The little fuckers (the
squirrels) can move like lightning and you got to creep upon them with
quiet movements and precision shots. It's a bit like deer hunting in
miniature. Late afternoon is the best time to go after them so we're a bit
early. You can hunt them by stalking or by waiting.

Elwyn's new to the game so I lead him to a stretch of beech and oak trees
and we make ourselves comfortable and..... sit silent and wait.  Not silent
all the time because now and again I mimic squirrels. Don't be fucking
stupid, I don't sit there and try to sound like a squirrel. I drop my hand
onto the litter below the tree and rustle the leaves at random
intervals. Squirrels are compulsively curious; they tend to pause and wait
for potential danger to pause, and that's when you can send them to
squirrel heaven.

We pick off eight before the little critters realise if you go down to the
woods today, you're sure of a big surprise. Five to me; three to Elwyn. His
eyes are shining.

"What are going to do with them?" he asks.

"Eat them, of course," I say.

Startled fawn time again.

"Eat them?"

"Yeh," I say. "What did you think we were gonna do with them. Shove them up
our arses?" He looks at the little limp bodies in horror.

"Listen, dumbshit," I say - affectionately - "Squirrels make good
eating. They taste a bit like wild rabbit but a bit sweeter. Probably cos
they spend their lives scoffing nuts all day long." That gets a
laugh. "They don't have much meat on them, apart from their haunches and
legs, so I'll parboil them, strip the meat off, then fry them with
butter. Yummy. Yummy."

The boy looks up at me, half-convinced. I look down at him, yummy, yummy.

"Hey, don't I get a reward for all the stuff I'm teaching you?" I say.

For Elwyn 'reward' = 'hug'.  He steps towards me. I open my arms. He steps
between my arms. I tilt his face up, lower my own, and kiss him full on the
lips. I've caught him at just the right moment, his mouth is half open. My
tongue goes in deep, searches for his tonsils, withdraws, and is thrilled
to find the boy doesn't close his mouth. With only a little pressure his
tongue enters my mouth. Our tongues fence French style. This boy learns
quickly; in fact, I'm the one to break the kiss. I look into those
impossibly blue eyes.

"Spit in my mouth."

"What?" he says.

"You heard me. Spit in my mouth..... or you get no squirrel."

Of course that's a fucking ridiculous thing to say, but it gives Elwyn the
excuse he needs. I lower my face to his, open my mouth wide. I can hear him
hawking up some saliva. Then he does it, a full gob, dead centre. God, I'm
proud of my boy.

I taste his saliva and work it round my mouth. Dee-li-cious. "Thanks,
baby," I say.

I pick up my squirrels, start to move, Elwyn doesn't. "What you waiting
for?" I say. "Don't you want to.....? He can't finish the sentence. "For
fuck's sake, Elwyn," I say. "We haven't got time to hang around. Five
o'clock is the best time for fishing. We've got the squirrels to cook. And
I've still got to teach you backgammon. Pick up your squirrels. Get your
cute little bum into gear? Come on."

"Oh," he says... and it's almost a note of disappointment.

An hour later we're sitting by the lake, rods out. I'm not fussed on
catching anything but Elwyn's determined to repeat his earlier success. I
sense he'd like to ask questions about... I don't take the hints. I want
everything to be a hands-0on experience for him. I'm a teacher: we learn by
doing not by listening. I sense he's a little uncomfortable. It's not for
the reason I think it is.

"Sir... I mean, Dan, I've got to..."

"What?" I ask.

"You know."

"I don't know. Do you want to give me three guesses?" He blushes.

"I've got to... do a No. 2." I'm sure it sounds as babyish to Elwyn as it
does to me. "For God's sake, Elwyn, you're a big boy now. You've got to do
what?" The blush deepens. "I've got to... to take a shit."

"A No. 2?"

"Yeh, a shit."

"A shit?"

"Yeh, repeat after me: shit, shit, shit."

"Shit, shit, shit," the boy repeats, and obviously feels better for it.

"Elwyn, in case you didn't notice, we're in the middle of a fucking forest.
There's nobody for miles around. Bears shit in the forest. Men shit in the
forest. Boys shit in the forest. It's as simple as that. Go shit in the
forest."

"But I couldn't find any toilet paper in the tent," he explains.

"That's because there isn't any."

Startled fawn time.

"Go ten yards that way. That's where a stream runs into the lake. Have your
No. 2. Squat in the stream. Do your No. 2. Stick your hand up your crack.
Wash away whatever's left. Get yourself whistle clean. You're not gonna
handle my squirrels with shitty fingers."

Like the brave little trooper, off he goes.

I give him three minutes and follow him. My timing is spot on. He's
squatting in the stream straining to release a big one, but it's a little
late to reverse the process. He is stunned to see me. I step out my shorts,
squat down beside him and say, "Mind if I join you. Nice weather we're
having. Do you come here often?" Elwyn can't help laughing, not easy when
you're squeezing out a big one in front of your teacher. We drop our loads
more or less in unison.

He's looking at his hands. Is he wondering which hand to use?

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I say, and before he realises what's happening, I
slip my hand between his arse cheeks and start washing the area around his
anus. He freezes like a rabbit in my headlights. But as my fingers stroke
around his arse hole and then directly on his hole, I sense him relaxing. A
sort of che sera sera.

I tickle and press his little pucker directly. A little tension, then
relaxation. The water, his shit, my shit, and insistent pressure, and my
middle finger slides in to the first knuckle. I watch the boy's face. His
eyes are closed. He is nibbling at his lower lip. I make circling motions
with my middle finger, edging in deeper, as his external sphincter relaxes
its grip. I wonder if Elwyn is aware he's moaning. Gently I ease out my
finger and hold it to his nose. He jerks his face back but there's signs of
disgust - which is always a good sign.

"Now get your bum up to the tent and check on those squirrels," I say. He
jumps up from the water, stumbles, half falls over, and I give him a slap
on his bare arse loud enough to scare half the birds in the trees if they
weren't so dazed by the heat.

"You mother fucker!" he shouts as he stumbles out of the water, grabs his
shorts, and scrambles along the lakeside.

Mother fucker?

Did that ten-year-old boy just call me a mother fucker to my face?

So much progress in such a little time.

An hour later we're sitting by the camp fire finishing off the last of the
roast squirrel, roasted on a campfire, because though it's still around
20C, what's a camp without a campfire. I resist singing 'Kumbaya
MiLordi'. I can just about cope with it when I'm taking the six-year-olds
camping with the school but you have to draw the line somewhere.

Elwyn washes down the last of Mister Squirrel with a gulp of Irn Bru (on
the QT, I've splashed in some vodka), burps contentedly, and says "It's
easy to play backgammon, isn't it, Dan?"  It's easy to learn and play, I
agree, but not so easy to beat an experienced player - and that's me. I
hand him one of knickerbocker glory specials, just a hint of rum, and watch
hungrily as he slurps it down his gullet. His lovely blue eyes are a bit
glazed already.

"Can we play a bit of backgammon before..." He pauses. "...before bedtime?"
he asks. For the first time since I cleaned his arsehole at the lake
there's tension in the air. "'Course we can, baby," I say. It's easy for us
to use 'baby', 'babe', and Dan now. We've come a long way since ten this
morning, and we still have a long way to go. I let Elwyn close to winning a
round but I don't let him quite get there. Always leave boys something to
aim for; it keeps them motivated. Finally I close the lid.

"And so to bed, says Dan," I say. "Come on, let's take a piss in the
lake. That's what it's there for." We stand at the edge, Elwyn watching me
piss far out. He can't help glancing at mine; I look directly at his and
lick my lips, making sure he sees me. He reddens but doesn't attempt to
hide himself.

"You can take a piss our not?"

"Yes," he mumbles.

"Well, piss in this," I say and drop to my knees, my mouth wide
open. "Don't wanna waste that fine Irn Bru," I add.

There's belief on the ten-year-old's face. The vodka and the rum do the
trick. He starts squirting directly into my mouth, his piss making a
glittering arc in the evening sun. "Close your eyes," I hear him say, and
now he's pissing all over my face. I gulp down what I've been able to
catch. Then say: "You dirty little mother fucker." Elwyn laughs as he
shakes away the last few drops. "Get into bed while I have a wash. I'll
catch you up." Unsteady on his feet, he makes for the tent.

'Onto the bed' is more accurate than 'into bed'. Bed's a double mattress
with clean sheets. By the time I get there Elwyn is on the bed covered by a
thin white linen sheet. I shuck off my shorts - I'm semi-tumescent and
hanging heavy - and slip under the sheet alongside him. The boy is wearing
only a pair of pure white boxers. Resting on one elbow, he looks up at
me. His eyes are wide.

"Please don't hurt me," he whispers.

"That's something I'll never do," I say. "I'll never do anything you don't
want, or anything you're not ready for."

I lean down, brush his lips with mine, and whisper, "Close your eyes. I'm
going to take you round the world."

My lips run gently round his face, lick his ears, move down his neck, his
chest, and give each nipple tiny kisses. I raise his arm and lick his
armpits in long languid strokes - the taste and smell are pure boy. I
return to his nipples and chew on them and the tiny mounds of fat that
support them. His skin is flawless ivory, slightly tanned by the sun, and
glowing in the amber light from the lamp I've hung on a tent pole. My mouth
moves down to his belly, slightly rounded, and his belly button. I open my
mouth wide and suck on his innie. If I could, I'd suck the whole thing into
my mouth and the boy along with it.

My fingers brush the front of his boxers. The boy is fully erect, as hard
as a nail. Above me I hear a whimper. My thumbs slip into either side of
the shorts. "Lift." He lifts. I ease the shorts down to his knees. His
penis springs up and slap against his hairless pubic area. His balls are
already raised tight beneath his stiffy. I must be careful. The last thing
I want is a spontaneous orgasm, even if it's only a dry one. I slide down
his body, kissing, licking, sucking, as I go, lowering his shorts to his
ankles. He raises his feet. Big for a ten-year-old. I slip off the boxers
and chuck them into the darkness. I slide back up his body.

A finger and thumb ease the boy's foreskin back and forth. My hand on his
belly feels the tension. His cock has a lovely pink head with a tiny mouth
that smiles at me. I can't resist. I lean down and give it a tiny
lick. Elwyn's whimpers are audible now. Remember the approach of your first
orgasm as a boy. The thrill. The panic. The terror. The inevitability. I
slide Elwyn's stiff penis into my mouth so my lips rest on the lovely spot
where it joins his body. I stay very still. This is the first time Elwyn
has been sucked off. I'm pretty sure he doesn't know what being sucked off
involves. I want him to remember this for a long, long time. I apply gentle
pressure and let my lips move slowly up and down the four-inch shaft. I can
feel the tremble of his belly under my palm. I slide back up his body and
pull him against me. He buries his face in my neck.

"Suck my neck," I whisper.

At first nothing.

"Suck my neck, Elwyn," I repeat.

Those white little teeth tentatively fasten on my neck and they begin to
suck my neck. I pull Elwyn against me so he can feel my erection pushing
against his belly. I've no hair on my chest, I'm a swimmer. Hairy chests
scare young boys. It's too adult for them. My dark pubic hair presses
against him. That's arousing for boys because they see older boys around
them sprouting and they'd like a bit of that too. I let Elwyn relax for
five minutes then slide back down his body. This time he pushes his crotch
towards me, probably a reflex action, but it gets the job done.

My mouth closes over him again. I manage to get his balls in there,
too. Not for long. The boy's only ten-years-old but he's already a bit of a
mouthful. This time I begin to suck him off deliberately, his penis sliding
in and out of my tightening lips. My fingers and thumb play with his balls
and sac, gentle squeezes, then my middle finger begins a gentle perineal
massage of the delicate tissues between his scrotum and his anus. Elwyn
manages about 60 seconds before the trembling of his hips and the tiny
pulsations in his cock tell me he is close to the edge. Up I slide again to
held him close. Frustration is a powerful motivator. I take one of his
small hands, open his fingers, and wrap them round my cock The tips of his
fingers can't quite meet. I don't try to get him to masturbate me. All I
want is for the boy to become comfortable with every part of my body, to
realise that nothing is off limits, and I mean nothing. The boy begins his
own little experiments down there, sliding his fingers along the shaft,
then playing in my pubic hair. Good boy. Good boy.

Down I slide again. This suck off's for real. I begin slowly. Up down, up
down, swirl the head between my lips, up down up down, gently squeeze his
ball sac. It's almost a nursery rhyme. Whimpers from above. My middle
finger slides along the perineum and up to Elwyn's asshole. He opens his
legs instinctively. I press against pucker, smooth my finger tip against,
press, probe, push, until the tip makes its way in. Stop sucking. Let the
finger tip rest. Let the external sphincter get used to it. Start sucking
again. Circle the finger tip while pushing forward. Take it easy, take it
slow. The finger slides into the first knuckle. Round and round the finger
goes, when it stops nobody knows. At least Elwyn doesn't. Push a little
more. Pop goes the second knuckle. Into the hilt. Round and round we go. A
second finger? No, that's too much too soon. A little pain, a little
pleasure. Too much pain, no fucking pleasure.

Elwyn's hips are rocking now, his belly is fluttering..... I ease my finger
out of his arse, my lips move faster, my finger and its arse juices slide
up to his face, rest under his nose, my sucking becomes more and more
rapid, the pressure of my lips more and more insistent... and Elwyn
cums. His arse rises to push himself into my mouth as deeply as he can,
falls, rises again... his head rolls on the pillow, his eyelids flutter,
whimpers and moans fill the tent, sweat beneath my finger tips as I squeeze
his belly rhythmically. He's pulling head up, he wants my mouth off his
penis, it's wonderful, amazing, awesome, but it's too much, way too
much. For the last time that night I slide up and hold him tightly to me.

This time he puts his arms round me, holds me tight, buries his face
against my neck. I whisper sweet filth into his ear as I lick and kiss
it. I'm not sure who falls asleep first, Elwyn or me. I think I whispered
"Good night, sweet prince," but I can't really remember and it doesn't
really matter. Because tomorrow is another day.

The dawn wakes me for a moment. I'm still sleepy. I don't know when it
happened but Elwyn and I are making spoons My knees drawn up to make a
cradle for his bum. My arm around his waist. His legs drawn up. His back
against my chest. His head cushioned by my collar bone.

I close my eyes for a moment. When I open them, the sun, framed by the
opening of the tent is climbing into a clear blue sky. I slip away from
Elwyn, slide off the mattress, stand up, yawn, stretch, scratch my balls,
and stroll outside to take a piss in the woods. The dew is long gone from
what little green there is of the grass. The world is turning burnt sienna.

I stroll back to the tent.

"Are you going to fuck me?" the boy says.

"Not on an empty stomach," I say.

"Are you going to fuck me?" he repeats.

"Don't speak with your mouth full," I say.

He chews and swallows his last chunk of rarebit. Washes it all down with
the last of his coffee. Looks at me with those big green eyes."

"Well, are you going to fuck me?"

"Yes," I say.

"Will it hurt?" he says.

"Yes," I say. "It'll hurt for a bit. Then you'll get used to it. Then
you'll like it. Then you'll love it."

He mulls it over for a bit. Frowns. Imperceptible nod of his head.

"How do you know about fucking?" I ask.

"Men fuck my mum," he says. His voice is matter of fact. "She thinks I
don't know. But I do. Sometimes I lie in bed and listen to them. They're
gonna break the bed. She squeals a lot. She says they're my uncles." He
pauses. "I've got more uncles than any other kid in my school." For a
moment I think he's being serious.

The sun is shining down. The birds are twittering deliriously. The lake
sparkles. We've had a lovely swim, a lovely breakfast. And this
ten-year-old boy is sitting on a canvas fold-up chair, white and blue
stripes, asking me if I'm going to fuck him. I'm not a believer but, if
Heaven exists, this is what it must be like - at least for me.

"No more questions. Now shift your lazy ass and get those dishes done. Do
them in the stream, not in the lake. I'm going to get our stuff ready." We
both stand up.

"Are we going squirreling again?" Elwyn asks.

"Nope. We're going on safari."

"Safari?!"

"Yep. We're going on a camera safari. You're going to take lots of
pics. We're going to enter the best three in a foto competition. Winner
gets a thousand quid. Whatever you win, you keep. So get those dishes
done. We've got to put on camouflage before we go into the jungle." Elwyn's
eyes widen. He steps towards me, throws his arms round me, hugs me, says,
"You're the best." I lean down and lick the last of the Scotch rarebit and
raspberry jam from his face. Turn him round, slap his arse, and him send
off skipping.

I get the camera. It's a good camera. It's a Sony H200 Bridge Camera
(20.1MP with Optical Stabilization, 26x Optical Zoom), absolutely amazing
for distance and close-up shots. It captures the tiniest details in vibrant
colour. I know. I've got a collection to prove it - and some vids that are
never going to appear on youtube. Elwyn can point and shoot at whatever
takes his fancy. I know what I'm going to point and shoot
at. Photographs. Vibrant colour. Close ups. The tiniest details. Elwyn's
beautiful face. Smiling. My semen on his lips, in his mouth, on his
arsehole.

This is the life for me!

Have you seen that movie 'Son of Rambow'? We're stalking rabbits in a field
near the woods. I suddenly realise who Elwyn reminds me of. He's dressed
like the kid in that movie. He even has a red bandana to keep the hair out
of his eyes. He's a bit better built, his hair's collar length and his eyes
are green. Otherwise with the camouflage stuff on, he could have doubled
for the kid in the movie. I'm letting him have a go at rabbits because he's
listened carefully about taking photographs of wildlife, and I'm pretty
sure he's got some good ones. His reward is to take out a couple of
bunnies, and, God knows, there's plenty of those in this field. As ever,
it's a case of biding your time and grabbing the opportunity when it comes
along.

Elwyn takes out two with clean shots to the head. Two of them he wounds so
he has to learn to kill them as humanely as possible. I show him the art of
'chinning'. I won't go into detail here. Some of you might be
squeamish. Elwyn learns the skill with the minimum of fuss. I wonder how
he'll feel when I tell him it's his job to skin them. After all, they're
his rabbits. I take a few shots of a boy and his rabbits. We won't be
entering them for the competition.

Back at camp we clean up. Camouflage face paint can be a bugger to get off
but it's a pleasure to wash and rub him down as we stand in the
stream. I've got raspberry bubble shampoo for him. Elwyn insists I rub it
everywhere. The cheeky little fucker stands there with a hard-on fit to
break a plate. I've it a couple of swipes and say, "That's it."

He gives me a flirty look. "I'll do yours," he says. "Fuck off, you little
perv," I say. He gives me his full frontal frown. I slap his bare arse
hard. "Get to bed," I say. "You need an hour's shut eye." The flirty look
again. "You coming, too?" I raise my hand. He takes the hint and scampers
off to the tent.

By the time I get to the tent Elwyn's sound asleep. I decide to leave him
for a couple of hours. The kid's whacked. I take pity on him and skin, gut
and clean the rabbits myself. Easy as peeling a banana when you get it
right. I decide to do a rabbit stew. That avoids the problem of dryness in
such lean meat. I simmer a couple of whole rabbits in a simple stock made
up of carrot, onion, celery, one bay leaf, a few peppercorns and a sprinkle
of salt.

I simmer the rabbits for a couple of hours, remove the stock and leave the
rest to cool. The meat is so tender it falls off the bone. Camping's not
the place for anything fancy, so I get the stuff together for a simple
salad. I sit back and look through the pics Elwyn has taken on the
viewer. Some of them are pretty impressive. I open a folder in the camera's
memory and add the pics from that onto the end of the boy's pics.

I sit back, listen to the stew simmer, and, though I try to keep it shut, a
folder in my own memory opens.

......

My eyes widen as I gaze at the sticky pucker of the man's shithole. It's
like the mini-crater in the version of the Moon I'd drawn in class that
afternoon. But this crater has thick, black strands of hair plastered
across it. The smell attracts me and sickens me.

"Come on, Daniel," came Mr.  Allen's voice, "sniff that fuckin'
arsehole. You know you want to." And the awful thing is I know I do. Ever
since their neighbour had started to 'baby sit' him after school, ever
since Mr. Allen had started 'teaching' him stuff, I'd been obsessed with
the idea of seeing a grown-up's hole.

I couldn't resist pushing my face between the man's hairy buttocks. Would I
have hair like that one day? I wondered. My little nose took in deep sniffs
of the rank stink. The smell was intoxicating, so much stronger than I got
from my own little hole even when I got two fingers up there. I let my nose
nuzzle against the greasy, puffy opening of the adult anus. I could even
push the tip of my nose inside the hole. It was incredible. I thought I
might throw up but I couldn't stop anyway.

"What about a little kiss, Daniel? Don't I deserve a little kiss? You know
you want to."

Mr.  Allen's voice was muffled and husky. How did he know exactly what I
wanted. I drew my face back. Inspected the hairy swollen mound, used little
thumbs thumbs to pull the lips apart, saw a red something or other bulging
inside, leaned forward, and gave it - whatever it was - a lick and a
kiss. Icould even fasten his lips round it, sort of, so he I, and licked
it, kissed it, and sucked at it.

Maybe Mr. Allen would do that to me.

"That's it, boy," came the voice from above. "Stick your tongue up my
arse. Lick the shit out of my prolapse."

I'd no idea what that word meant but it probably had something to do with
the red 'doughnut' inside his swollen hole.

Mr.  Allen made his hole pooch and breathe. My little pink tongue licked at
the anal grease, savouring the rich, earthy juices, gulping as I breathed
in little gasps.

The more I licked, the more the hole seemed to loosen. I wondered how the
man could keep his legs in the air so long, locked over his shoulders. The
root of my tongue was beginning to ache. I mashed my face between the man's
cheeks. I could actually get my tongue to lick the slimy walls inside. I
wondered what it looked like in there.

I knew what it felt like in there. First two fingers, then four, then four
fingers and thumb, then the whole of my fist and my wrist. I knew I could
wriggle my skinny arm up to the elbow if he wanted to me. If he was on his
back, would I be able to see the outline of my arm deep inside his
belly?......

"Waken up, sleepy head. I'm starving. When we gonna eat?"

Elwyn's standing over me.

"You skinned my rabbits. You said I could do it." He pretends to be
disappointed when I say the job's done. He drops the pretence the moment I
say the words 'swimming lesson'. I tell him to go back and put his boxers
on. I'll be ready at the lake. We put in a good half hour. Did I mention
the boy's a natural?

"This is the best stuff I've ever eaten," Elwyn says cramming the last of
the rabbit stew into mouth. "I'm stuffed." I pull vanilla icecream out of
the ice-box and drizzle it with raspberry sirop. Elwyn realises he isn't
stuffed after all. Down the hatch it goes.  He burps as loudly and deeply
as he can. I hand him a plastic cup of Irn Bru. I've crushed a very mild
sedative in his drink. Down the hatch it goes. Calm his nerves, relax him,
not fucking knock him out! If he's lucky he may feel a little drunk, even
euphoric, but no hangover. Definitely no more alcohol for this kid.

"Are you gonna fuck me now?" he says.

"Nope," I say. "Not on an empty stomach, and defo not on a full stomach."

Elwyn frowns.

"Are we gonna do stuff?" he says.

"Yep," I say.

Elwyn smiles.

"Are you gonna give me more of your..." He searches for the word. "...cum?"

"Probably not," I say.

"Can I give you some of mine?" he says.

I smile.

"Nope. You're too young to make cum. You're just starting puberty. Be a
couple of years before your balls can produce cum." I pause. "But I can
still give you that awesome feeling."

Elwyn smiles.

"That's okay then." He pauses. "Can we go in the tent now? I'm sleepy." The
boy looks anything but sleepy.

"Okay," I say. "We'll break the golden rule and leave cleaning up until
later. Now go and take a piss and a dump in the woods.. Then clean your
arse out inthe stream."

"Aw, Dan, do I have to?"

He sees the look on my face, bounds out of the fold-away and scampers off
to do what a boy's got to do. I get up to tidy stuff away, hoping he
doesn't clean his arse too well. We're camping. We should enjoy the natural
sounds and smells around us. Elwyn's a boy. I doubt he ever cleans his ass
too well.

Ten minutes later I step into the tent. Behind me the sun is just going
down. Elwyn is stretched out on the mattress, naked, his hands cupped
beneath his head. He has a smile on his face. It suggests the sedative has
kicked in. "How do you want me?" he says.

"Flip over on your front," I say. I reach for the camera. He flips over. I
put the camera on the pillow by his head. "Check out your pics," I
say. "Some of them are first class." He doesn't look back at me. He is
absorbed in seeing what he's captured on screen. I slide my shorts off, sit
on the side of the mattress, and begin to knead his butterfly
shoulders. "Mmmmm," he sighs.

I knead his shoulders, massage him gently. He's caught the sun. No swimming
tomorrow. I kiss his shoulders, his upper and lower back a hundred
times. "This shot's terrific," he says. "Shhhh," I hush him.

I slide down to the end of mattress, tweak his long legs apart, give his
bottom tiny kisses. A little giggle. With my thumbs I part his
buttocks. I'm amazed how beautiful his skin is, a boy's skin is at this
age. Utterly flawless. Smooth as silk, ivory pale. I open him up. There it
is. His little pucker, hardly puckered. The little mouth of his anus hardly
serrated. I run the tip of my tongue along the little starfish again and
again. I waken smells of brown sugar and copper.

Elwyn has washed himself well but nothing can remove his utterly boy
smells. His anus smells like the inside of a hamster's cage, and that's a
compliment. With my thumbs and index fingers I stretch his arsehole a
little wider. Muskier scents rise up. I replace my tongue with the tip of
my index finger, then nail filed all the way down and begin gentle but
insistent pressure.

Don't let anyone tell you they can get their tongue in the virgin arse of a
ten-year-old boy. It just can't be done. Even then I reach for my 50ml
squeezy bottle of Durex Real Feel Pleasure Gel & Lubricant, squirt a little
into the palm of my hand, dip my finger in, wipe the residue on the boy's
beautiful bottom, and return to his gorgeous anus. My finger tip runs
backwards and forwards, gently increasing the pressure, until it simply
slides in to the first knuckle.

"Fuck me," I hear Elwyn squeal. It's not a cry of pain or invitation. "Look
what that man's doing to this boy." He's found the 'other' pics. They're
not of me. They're of my mate Ryan, you know, the dirty one. They include
Noah, Ben, Gabe, and he's fucking them, amongst other things, in a variety
of positions. I've made sure none of them show this tent or even the woods
and the lake. Ryan is nothing if not inventive, and I know these pics will
be an education for Elwyn in themselves.

"Wow, look at this one, Dan, look at this one."

"Shhh," I repeat and push my finger in deep to add emphasis. An outraged
"Ow" comes from above, followed by silence disturbed only by the squelchy
sounds I'm making down here - Elwyn wriggles his arse - and his own
shortening of breath.

I get my finger in as deep as it will go and start turning it in
circles. Weaken the sphincters, widen the hole, stroke the inner walls. I
slip my finger out. Tweak his hole as open as I can, and let as much saliva
as I can dribble into it. As someone somewhere says, "Every little bit
helps." And anyway I want to be part of Elwyn even if it's only my spit up
his beautiful bottom.

I return my finger, this time my lubed-up middle finger. It's longer and
thicker than my index finger, and I can hear a grunt from the boy. He
twists his arse round a bit, a reflex action, but only manages to pull my
digit in deeper and clamp it with is inner muscle.

I'd like to find Elwyn's prostate gland but at his age that's like hunting
for the proverbial needle in the haystack. I know. At Elwyn's age, I spent
lots of time trying to find mine after Mr.  Allen and his friend described
what it was and what it would do to me if they could find it. God knows
they tried hard enough. They had no luck and neither did I, at least until
I was twelve. That, as they say, is a different story.

I slide out my finger, tweak the boy's anus as open as I can, kiss, licked
and suck it for luck. I slip up the mattress, take the camera, lay at the
side, and manoeuvre him till he's straddling my chest. His penis is
standing stiffly against his pubic area. I take him by the hips and move
him forward. I open my mouth. He raises himself on his knees, leans forward
and let's his hot hard erection slip between my lips. It's time to give
Elwyn what he needs.

With my help the boy establishes a rocking motion. His stiffy is slipping
in and out between my lips. As he sits back, I close my lips round the head
of his cock and suck.

As he moves forward, I clamp my lips so he has to struggle to get in. My
free hands are running up and down his back. He moves forward. His bum
rises above my stomach. I slip a hand beneath him, and, as he drops back, I
make sure the finger tip of my middle finger is centred on his anus. The
lube has kept him greasy, and, this, added to his natural juices, lets my
finger slip inside him. He bears down jamming my finger in as far as it
will go.

He breathes in short, sharp bursts.

Perspiration dampens his face.

His blond hair brushes my face.

I hold his hips and move him back and forwards faster. When I stop, he
takes over. He finds his own rhythm and begins fucking my face. The head of
his cock touches the back of my throat. He is rocking on his knees now,
driving his cock into me, then sliding back onto my middle finger.

He makes whimpering sounds, hard to tell if it's pain, pleasure or both. He
head goes back. He starts to shake. Not just tremble but to shake hard,
almost as if he's having a fit. I hold him steady.

"Fuck, cunt, fuck..." The words blurt from his lips as he falls onto me,
almost breaking my fucking finger. hold him tightly against me until the
shaking stops.

I hug him to me, draw the sheet up over us, hold him until his breathing
becomes shallow. Outside I hear an owl hoot. Inside the tent I hear Elwyn
faintly snore. Must be the sedative. Ah well, there's a first time for
everything. I lie there, holding my boy, and watch the Moon until I fall
asleep and leave the Moon watching us.

..........

I'm on a bed. It's Mr.  Allen's bed. I'm pinned down. It's not
Mr. Allen. At first I can't make out who it is. I realise it's Mr.  Allen's
friend Raheem. He is older than Mr.  Allen - big, fat, ugly, and
powerful. He is kneeling over me. My legs are hanging off the end of the
bed. I'm pinned down, helpless.

The man's big curved cock is jammed in my throat, his wiry grey hairs
pressed against my lips. I'm trying to breathe through my nose. I'm
helpless, over-powered, used, abused, hate it, love it, can't sort out the
feelings. My hands try to reach round the man's buttocks. They're big and
hairy. I can't get a grip on them. I'm trying to pull him back.

I just want to swallow my saliva, get more air, stop gagging. I think I
might vomit. He pulls back a bit. My eyes are watering but I can see his
thick dark cock, my spit is running down it, frothy and bubbly. I can feel
my own cock, stiff and hard, pressing against my underwear. I feel them
being ripped off. That can't be the man. That must be Mr.  Allen.

"Turn him over." That's Mr.  Allen's voice.

Big hands flip me over like a rag doll. I'm lying on my front. I've still
got my white t-shirt on, my white ankle socks. He said we were going out to
play tennis. A hand on my back pins me to the bed. Other hands pull the
cheeks of my arse apart.

There are fingers at my arsehole, pulling it open. Wads of saliva hit my
hole, trickle into it. Lots and lots of spit. Both of the men are spitting
into my hole. My cock is pressed between my belly and the bed. I'm so hard
it hurts. I feel dizzy, light-headed, like I might pass out.

Sudden pain in my hole. Too big to be a finger. I bite the pillow -
Mr. Allen taught me to do that. - and whimper as the bulbous head of a cock
forces its way through the tight ring of my anus, into my rectum, into my
guts. Someone turns my side.

"Open up, Danny boy." It's Mr.  Allen. He likes getting sucked better than
fucking. He's gentler than Raheem, and not so big. His cock slides in and
out of my mouth. I press my lips against the shaft like I've been
taught. It's hard to concentrate because the other man is fucking me so
hard. I feel his hairy balls slap slap against my arse.

His cock is so deep into me it must be pressing the insides of my tummy. I
wonder if you'd see it from the outside. I wonder what my hole will look
like when he's finished. Will we go and play tennis after? I've got to work
on my serve.

Have you ever seen rabbits fucking? Raheem starts to fuck me like
that. Fast, hard, like he's a machine. He's pushed my t-shirt around my
neck. I can feel his huge hairy body pressing against my back. He's got
tits. Not real tits. Man tits. And he's really hairy all over. I can feel
his hair pressing against my back, my bum.

He's grunting in my ear. He's a fucking pig. I'm being fucked by a pig. I'd
like to squeal but I can't with Mr.  Allen's cock halfway down my
throat. My balls start drawing up against the base of my dick. My body
starts to jerk. My asshole goes into spasms, it tightens round his thick
cock, like it's starting to milk it.

His big hand presses me deeper into the bed, he starts to jack rabbit me. I
can't think, I can't breathe, I'm cumming, like the whole of me is
squirting through my cock, even my brains.

I can't shoot cum yet but that's what it feels like. Raheem slams his cock
deep inside me one last time and holds it there. Mr.  Allen does the same
in my throat.

I pass out....................

I feel arms round my neck. Open my eyes. It's Elwyn. He's got cum on his
lips, his chin. I lick it off. He opens his mouth to speak. There are
slivers of cum in his mouth. I pull him to me, kiss him deeply. Hold
him. Cuddle him. Push back. Look into those impossibly blue eyes, fringed
by thick dark lashes.

"I nearly choked. But I got it all down." He frowns. "Will I be able to cum
like that?" he asks. "Yeh, course you will," I say. "But I'll never be as
big as you," he says. "We all end up much the same," I say. "Really?" he
says. "Yep," I say. "You taste nice," he says. "The taste's a bit weird but
it's okay," he adds. "Thank you," I say. "All them sperms must be swimming
in my tummy," he says. "What happens to them?" he asks. "Nothing much," I
say. "You just shit them out of your cute little arse," I say. "That's
gross," he says.

"Are you gonna fuck me now?" he asks.

"Nope," I say.

"What are we gona do then?" he asks.

"We're going to have a quick swim. Then we're going to have breakfast. Then
we're going to play tennis."

"Tennis?" he says, eyes widening.

"Yep. School's on holiday. Courts are empty. We're going there to play
tennis."

"I can't play tennis very well."

"That's why you've got me. I'm your teacher."

Elwyn throws his arms round my neck. Kisses me on the lips. Says "You're
the best, Dan. You're the best."

Tennis is fun for both of us. Elwyn doesn't have the natural skills he
shows in swimming but he's got great focus and concentration. He listens
carefully and does what he's told. After an hour we're trading forehands
with rallies lasting up to 10 strokes - not bad at all for a beginner. I
tell him to make sure he signs up for the school tennis programme when he
moves to secondary in September. If Elwyn's as academically secure as I
suspect he is he'll sail through the Test and win a place at the town's
boarding school for G&T (Gifted and Talented) Boys.

We take a break after an hour, sit in the shade by the side of the courts,
sip ice-cold Cola, and chat about everything under the sun. Elwyn's a good
listener. He's also very articulate when he feels comfortable. Only once do
we stray into the territory of sex.

"Sir... Dan, may I ask you something?" As soon as a boy says that, you know
he's got something on his mind. I sip and nod.

"Those photographs - the ones on the camera - you know the ones I
mean. Well, did you take those photos? Were you there when that man was
doing - you know - that stuff to those boys?"

I look him in the eye and lie. "No. I found them on the Net."

Elwyn gives a sigh of relief. "I didn't think so," he says. "That man was
doing - " He pauses. "I mean, the sex is okay but he was doing bad stuff to
those boys. Really dirty stuff. One of them was tied..."

"I've seen the photos," I interrupt.

"Oh, yeh," he says. "Do you know that man?" he says.

I look him in the eye and lie. "No. I don't."

"Good," he says.

"Don't drink that Coke too quickly," I say. "You'll give yourself a belly
ache."

He takes a gulp, burps, and smiles at me with purpled lips. "May I ask
something else?" I nod.

"Well, it's about my bumhole. It's aching a bit but it's a nice sort of
ache."

"Thanks for sharing," I say.

He laughs.

"What I mean is, why do you like playing with my bumhole?"

"Cos it's a very pretty bumhole," I say.

"But you lick it and kiss it," he says. "I don't mind," he quickly adds. "I
kinda like it. But you stick your tongue in there. Why do you do that?
Isn't it gross?"

"Not sure," I tell him truthfully. "It's part of you. I like every little
bit of you."

"But my shit's up there." Elwyn is in full flow now. "Do you like my shit?"

"Well, I'm not so sure about that. ... But I like where it comes from."

He frowns. "Did you see what that man in the photo was doing with his shit?
I bet those boys..."

"Elwyn," I say sharply. "Finish your Coke. Don't let it get warm. We're
going on court in five minutes. Time to hit backhands. Then we're going for
lunch." He drains the last of the Coke. "Where we going, Dan? I'm starting
to get hungry. We going back to camp."

"Nope," I say. "We're having lunch out."

"Where?" he says.

"It's a surprise," I say. "Now get your racquet and your sweet little ass
back on court," I say. Elwyn stands, picks up his racquet, turns his back
to me, bends over, wiggles his bum, giggles and heads for the court. The
sun pours down like honey.

Evening falls. The temperature is still in the low 20s. We take a swim
before...  I watch Elwyn, naked as he strolls into the soup-warm water. He
lies flat on his back, hands cupped beneath his head. High above, the moon
is a pale gold coin. I remember the moment in one of my favourite movies,
Immortal Beloved, when the boy-Beethoven escaping from his brutal father,
runs through the forest to the lake. He strips, enters the water as Elwyn
has done, and lies on his back gazing up at the stars. Since then 'Ode to
Joy' has been my favourite piece of music - Don't tell my mates: but the
boy in the water is the most beautiful image I know.

Christ! I must be getting old and sentimental. I join Elwyn. Together we
swim out to the raft, lie on our backs and watch the first stars appear in
the darkening sky.

"You going to fuck me tonight," asks Elwyn in his sweet, unbroken,
matter-of-fact voice.

"Nope," I say.

His reply is a grunt. It has a distinct tinge if disappointment.

Back on our mattress, everything is at hand. I slip into the 69
position. Elwyn's penis is a hard stick of asparagus. It slides between my
lips. My fingers begin to caress his hole. I want to get him fully
aroused. I want to distract him from what is going to happen below. Suck
him, play with his balls, finger his hole, get him to the edge again and
again, but don't let him go over. Keep him there until he's desperate.

I feel his small hand close round my own erection. Good. Boys are
insatiably curious about sex. Give him time. He'll work out what to do. For
the moment he is exploring and each exploration carries him further into
what has been forbidden, scary territory. A grown man's cock, balls, hair,
and everything they represent. I feel him slide back my own foreskin,
already slippery in pre-cum. Then the first tentative lick. He's tasted me
before but this time it's completely his choice to lick around the head
with his little pink tongue.

Has he noticed my middle finger is inserted all the way into his anus, his
rectum? I withdraw it to the first knuckle and begin circling
motions. Stretch the entrance to his anus, give his sphincter muscles time
to relax, feel the sponginess close around my finger. Slip out my
finger. Fasten my lips over his hole - it's still small but not as tiny as
before. Boy smells are an aphrodisiac to boy lovers. Probe with the tip of
my tongue. It slides in. Spear his hole with my stiffened tongue. A little
deeper every time. Make circles with my tongue as if I'm licking my own
lips.

Elwyn has half of my shaft in his own mouth. His cheeks must be
bulging. I'm not huge but I'm not small. And my cock is fat. He holds the
lower part of the shaft with his small fingers. The fingers of his other
hand play in my thick pubic hair.

Pubertal boys are fascinated by pubic hair. At the swimming centre in our
school the younger boys can't keep their eyes away from the older boys as
they change before and after swimming lessons. The main attraction is not
the array of naked cocks; the main attraction is the older boys' pubic
hair. How much have they got? How far does it spread? Look at the older
boys. They've got a trail of hair going up to their belly buttons. Some of
the oldest ones have got hair on their chests.

The hairless boys are fascinated... and terrified. They want hair, too, but
it's scary, embarrassing, and looks in their terms so pathetic when it
first appears. Lots of them pluck out the first few hairs they get, hide
themselves, until they have enough of what they think is a
respectable. Then they can't wait to flaunt amongst the hairless boys, to
wait for that wonderful comment: "Look, he's got hair." For boys there is
no greater stamp of manhood than pubic hair.

I'm surprised to feel Elwyn urging my legs apart. Even more surprised to
work out he has changed his position to explore between the cheeks of my
arse. As I return to his hole, I wonder how far he will go there. I wonder
how far I'll go.

Still masturbating him gently, I reach for the rubber dildo I've already
lubed. It's a six incher, narrow at the head, thickening towards the
base. I press the rubber tip against the boy's hole. It slides in with no
apparent discomfort to Elwyn. I circle the rubber head inside the
ten-year-old boy's anus, easing it into his rectum. Gently. I don't want to
hurt him.

...........

"Hurt him, hurt him, hurt the little fucker"

That isn't Mr. Allen's voice. It's Raheem's voice. There are the voices of
other men, too, but Dan never learns their names.

"Where's those poppers? Give him another hit. Then he'll take anything."

The boy feels a hand cover his mouth. Fingers close one nostril then the
other, forcing him to inhale. He feels light-headed, giddy, hot all
over. Then something is rammed in his hole. Intense pain for a moment. He
tries to tell them, to shout, scream: "It hurts, it hurts, it fucking
hurts," but can't.

He's upside down. Standing on his head. Being held upside down by the
legs. One of the men - he doesn't know which one - is pushing his cock deep
into the boy's arsehole - and the man is big, very big, and he's not taking
time, he's pushing hard, down, down, down, until Dan feels he's bring split
in two.

More poppers are pressed against the boy's nose. The pain is less intense
as his sphincter muscles relax. His head is turned to one side. Fingers
force his mouth open. "Bite me and I'll fuckin' kill you," says another
voice. An erect cock is pushed into his mouth, his throat. "Now suck it,
bitch," says the voice. Dan tries his best though the smell is
sickening. Everything is heightened. "My turn now." Another voice. The
boy's head is turned to the left, another voice rammed into his throat. How
can he suck when it's so hard to breathe? His grunts have turned to
whimpers.

The second voice again.

"For fuck's sake, can't this kid get a hard-on?" the man says.

"It's the poppers," says another voice. It's Mr. Allen. "Sometimes poppers
give them a hard-on, sometimes they don't. You never can tell."

"Come round here," says Mr. Allen. "Look at the little bastard's hole. It's
really gaping now. See if you can double fuck him. Give me the camera. I'll
get some great close-ups. We can make real money from the DVDs."

"Poppers and poop next time," another voice laughs.

"Sugar and shit."

Dan can't remember much after that. How long did it go on? Did he faint?
All he remember is waking up with a terrific headache. It made him sob. It
made him want to die. In fact Dan's wanted to be dead for quite a while
now. He knows he chose to be here. He knows he wanted sex with Mr. Allen,
at least at the beginning.

He remembers the first time when Mr. Allen let him stay with him in the
tent in the back garden. He can still hear their voices, but he hears them
as if they were outside himself.

"You're freezing. Get over here, closer to me. There, that's better, isn't
it? Let me rub your back." (Minutes later). Turn over. I'll do your
front... Nice, isn't it? You like this, don't you?"

Dan hears himself giggle... "It tickles."

"Shhh, baby."

Dan feels something warm and wet slide over his chest, down his tummy, and
the warmth and the wet is swallowing him whole.

"Oh... oh... oh..."

Even when Raheem joined in, it wasn't too bad. When they weren't drunk, or
out of their minds on those popper things, it could be fun. But when those
men he didn't know started turning up, it all went wrong, bad, really
bad. And now they were taking pictures, photographs, even making vids.

The boy wanted it to end but there seemed to be no way, no way out.

...........

I realise I've been easing the rubber dildo into Elwyn's arse until the
flat section is pressed against the stretched lips of his hole. I watch
them fold back and forth as the dildo fucks him. I leave it all the way in,
turn him to me, and suck him to orgasm. This takes all of ten
seconds. Elwyn writhes on the mattress and pushes himself into my mouth
until my lips are pressed against his hairless pubis. I let him relax in my
mouth until he slips out softly. I turned myself, slide up, turn him to me,
and fold him in my arms. He is silent and breathless. Not for
long. Ten-year-olds rarely are.

"You smell nice down there," he whispers.

"We both had a crap," I say. "And we went swimming for half an hour."

He giggles at the word 'crap'.

"What's that up my bum?" he says.

"It's called a dildo," I say. "It's made of rubber. It's like a cock. It
won't hurt you."

"I know that," he says. "You'd never hurt me."

I give him a squeeze. He yawns.

"I'm really sleepy," he says. "What are we doing tomorrow?" he asks.

"You're getting driving lessons," I say. "Through the tracks in the
woods. Not on the roads."

I'm not sure he's heard me. I feel his warm breath against my
shoulder. He's sound asleep.

'Morning has broken like the first morning..." the song we used to sing in
assembly plays through head as I watch Elwyn paddle in the sparkling water
of the lake. He turns and waves to me. His trust his total. A few minutes
ago he'd taken a crap in the woods. Washed himself in the stream. Splashed
his way to the lake. Called me to him.

"I'm not sure if I've cleaned myself properly. You'd better check." He
turns away, bends over, pulls his cheeks wide apart. I kneel in the
water. Apart from slight bruising and a puffiness around the hole, he looks
fine. "You're fine," I say. "You'd better make sure," he says. I lean into
him and run my tongue along his perineum, kiss his little starfish, pulls
him to me, try my best to fasten my lips on his hole and suck gently with
my pursed lips. I probe and press, the tip of my tongue slips in easily, I
spear my tongue and drive in as far as I can. The flesh inside feels
softer, more mushy. There's less resistance from his anal muscles.

Elwyn has removed one hand. With the thumb and fingers of his other hand he
is masturbating. I can hear whimpers above the slurping, kissing, sucking
sounds I'm making. I slap his hand away.

"Ouch," he says.

"Not before breakfast," I say.

"Spoilsport," he says.

"Not before bedtime," I say.

"You gonna fuck me tonight?" he says.

"Good," he says.

"Race you to the raft," I say, turning to head for deeper water. "Loser has
to clean the other's jacksie."

"Right!" shouts Elwyn.

I make sure he loses.

What will I tell you about the day? Elwyn's screams of delight as he
bounced the four wheeler along the tracks through the woods. The three
rabbits he shot. How he skinned them himself - what a mess. How he rubbed
the blood over his almost naked body and hid in the bushes from me. I found
him. Held him spread-eagled beneath me, licked him clean, french-kissed,
spat in each other's mouths, curled into a 69, made love to each other's
anuses. Lay in the chilly running water of the stream. Built a little fire,
roasted rabbit and chicken, french-kissed the fat into each other's
mouths. How Elwyn fell asleep in my arms.

Lying there, watching the boy sleep open-mouthed. Thinking about the call I
had to make to Ryan.

Built a fire, roasted rabbit and chicken, french-kissed the fat into each
other's mouths. Lying there, watching the boy sleep open-mouthed. Thinking
about the call I had to make to Ryan. Watching is eyes flicker open.

"Can we go to bed now?" Elwyn asks.

"It's only 8.30," I say.

"I know but... "

Elwyn doesn't complete the sentence. He doesn't have to. He reaches
forward, runs his hand across my groin, outlines the penis beneath my
shorts. "Will you put that dildo thingy in me first?" he asks. "No," I
say. "I'll open you up with my fingers, with my tongue." He smiles but I
hear the tremor in his voice. "That's better," he says. "I don't like that
thingy. It feels like a big poop up my bum." It's the first time he's used
a baby word, poop. I manage to keep a tremor out of my voice.

"How do you want me?" the boy asks.

I lean against the support I've made for my back. I'm naked. Elwyn is
naked. I stretch out my legs. I've already slathered 'Real Feel' on my
erection. It's hard to believe the whole shaft will force its way inside
this boy who looks so small, so vulnerable, so innocent. He little cock is
an iron spike.

I help him into the position I want.  A leg either side of my thighs. His
arms wrapped around my neck. His cock pressed against my belly. My cock
jammed between his buttocks. One hand strokes his back up and down, the
other squeezes and kneads his buttocks. One of his small feet rests on my
leg above my knee. This helps open him up to me.

As I stroke him, I pull him into me and he kisses my neck while his hair
rubs my cheek. I can feel the tension in his fingers round the back of my
neck. His hard-on presses and strokes the hair on my belly. With both hands
I edge open the cheeks of his bottom and place the tip of my cock against
his hole. My hands lips beneath the cheeks, pull them as far apart as I can
without hurting him, and whisper, "Down onto me, Elwyn. Lower yourself down
onto me."

My thumbs prise the little mouth of his anus apart.

What a brave little boy he is.

I feel his face jammed against my neck. I can hear his whimpers. I let him
take his time. Without warning the head of my cock is inside him. I can
feel him jerk upwards. I hold him up. He bites my neck. I hold him tight. I
don't let my cock ram straight up him. I know what agony that can be. I
simply hold him for a while.

"You're a superhero, Elwyn," I whisper.. I feel his soft lips kiss my
unshaven cheek. He pushes himself down a little more, hold it, then lowers
himself a little more. I imagine the lips of his anus stretched wide. Kids
are so flexible, so elastic. I feel the sponginess of his rectum enclose a
third of my cock. I push Elwyn's head back so we can french-kiss - deeply
-and while he's distracted I urge him downwards, millimetre by millimetre.

"It's inside my tummy," he whispers. "I can feel your cock, Dan. It's
inside my tummy."

"No, darling, it isn't," I whisper back. "It just feels like that."  As I
whisper, I can feel my pubic hair against Elwyn's bottom as he rises and
falls. His penis is soft against my belly. It is unbelievably
erotic. Holding him against me, skin to skin. His arms around my neck. His
lips kissing my collar bone. My fingers against his back, his bum. His
moans, groans, whimpers.

I ease him from me. Let my cock slide out, feel his sphincters reluctant to
release me. He clings to me. I slip to my knees, lower him gently onto the
mattress below me. I pull him towards me, lift his legs and put them over
my shoulders. God, he's so fucking tiny, lying there with my bulk above
him. I slip between his buttocks, spread his cheeks, prise open his hole,
bluish, purplish, bruised, puffy.

Holding myself up on one arm - "Elwyn, look at me." - I take my cock and
press the head against his hole. I watch his eyes widen as I push my stiff
shaft all the way inside him, hair rubbing against his inner cheeks
again. The boy's eyes are as wide as I've ever seen them. I prop myself
above him on both arms, then drive my cock in and out of him. In, out, in,
out, full length every time. I hear him gasp and grunt each time I bottom
out. I'm in so deep I can smell Elwyn's insides. His head rolls from side
to side.

"Look at me, Elwyn," I say. "Look at me."

And he does, though his glazed eyes have a faraway look.

The boy is so light it's easy to whip him over. Get him on his hands and
knees. Fuck him doggie style. Hard. Fast, Ruthless. He's making animalistic
sounds now. So am I.

I yank him to me, bury myself completely inside him, hold him there, as my
cock spits and spurts myself into him.

My body is stretched out against his, my lips fastened to the back of his
neck.

I empty my body into his.

I withdraw, still hard, flip him over, stretch out on my back, seat him
across my upper chest, a leg stretched down each side of my shoulders, take
his soft cock and balls into my mouth. I feel him harden almost
immediately. No room for his balls. I urge him to face fuck me. He raises
his arms, cups his hands against the back of his head and fucks my
mouth. His hips take over. His eyes fixed on mine, he fucks my face. My
fingers seek his tiny nipples and twist them.

I take him to the edge three times. Then I flip him over and run my cock
across his lips. I have lost nothing of my hard-on. Instinctively, he opens
his mouth wide and I slide the head in. I hear him sucking. Then he tries
to remove his mouth but I keep my cock where it is, fucking his mouth
gently. I sense his protests. I flip him back over and let him face fuck me
again.

Elwyn cries out and jabs his pubic bone against my lips while his whole
body shakes and shudders in orgasm.

I give him time, then let him slide from me, into my arms. His eyes are
bleary, his sppech slurred.

"There was shit on your dick. I could taste it. That's not fair." I say
nothing and he is too exhausted to protest more, and falls fast asleep, in
my arms. I'm ready for a good night's sleep, too, but first I take my
mobile and make that call to Ryan.

I let Elwyn sleep till around ten. He wakes up with hug yawns: "Are you
going to fuck me again?"

"Nope," I say. "How's your bum?"

Another big yawn. "It's sore but it's okay, really. If you want to fuck me
now , it's okay. I'll be better at this time."

I smile and tousle his bed-head hair. "I know you'll be, but we haven't got
time. Time to get up. We've got a lot to do."

Elwyn manages to keep his eyes open. He looks puzzled. "What time is it?"
he asks. "It feels very early."

"It's ten," I say. "We're getting up early. We've got a lot to do. We're
leaving in an hour."

A frown. "Leaving? I thought we were staying five days?"

"Change of plan," I say. "Now upsee daisy. We've got a lot to do and if we
don't get it done, it's no breakfast for you."

"Okay, you're the boss," he says, yawns again and rolls over.

"Right, that's it," I say. I stand, bend, slide my hands under him, cradle,
lift him, and head for the beach. He hardly stirs. We're both naked. I lay
him in the water.

"What the fuck?" he says. His eyes spring open. He starts to shiver. I kick
splashes of water over him. "Get washed," I say. "The water will wash out
your bumhole." I turn and head back to the tent.

"You better wash out yours," he shouts. "You had shit up your hole last
night."

I turn laughing and give him the V sign.

He gives me one back, laughing.

"Where we going then?" he asks as we spin along the motorway.

"My place," I say. "It's on the other side of town."

"Cool," Elwyn says, and settled back, his head on my shoulder, to
sleep. Not even the scream of a fire brigade siren disturbs him as it raced
past us. The siren disturbed me.

...........

It wasn't Mr. Allen's basement that scared Dan. Not even the weird array of
slings, beds and equipment stored down there. Not fat ugly Ali Raheem and
his hairy belly, legs and arsehole. Not the other men who used him - though
that was getting scarier. Not the poppers. Not the poop, though what they
did with the shit sometimes made him throw up. And some of them even liked
his vomit!

A couple of them liked his vomit so much they lapped it up. Lapped it up
and then kissed each other, open-mouthed, slopping his vomit into each
other's mouths. One of them - the one who wore the mask and sounded really
posh - slathered his vomit on his cock and then fuck me with it. That's
sick! The vomit that came out of my mouth ended back up my arse.

Some of them wanted to shit in his mouth. He did what he was told. He let
the pot-bellied man squat over him and licked and sucked his shit hole, but
Mr. Allen wouldn't let the man shit in his mouth - "That's for Raheem," he
said, not bothering if the boy heard him or not. Even that might be
bearable, but it was the camera and the DVDs that changed everything. The
thought of them being bought and sold by men like Ali and Mr. Allen scared
the shit out of him, gave nightmares, and splitting headaches far worse
than poppers ever could. He'd seen some of their videos - not the ones with
him in but others from their collection. With kids, real kids, toddlers
even. And there were no limits. Dan knew he haqd to do something, but he
didn't know what.

He was going to the boarding school in September. He'd worked hard to pass
the test. Passed it with flying colours. Mum had shown how proud she was of
him. And mum had found a new man, a new uncle for Dan. And Dan liked
him. He wasn't creepy like some of the others. And he was rich - mega
fuckin' rich. Mum said he'd asked her to marry him. She even asked for
Dan's advice. Dan shrugged, said it was up to her, but he liked his new
uncle. And the idea of moving away, far away, far away was great. Away from
all this Mr. Allen shit would be great.

The DVDs were the problem. He'd seen some of them. Not the ones 'starring'
him but others, worse, far far worse, than anything he'd done -
yet. Mr. Allen and Ali Raheem had shown them to him in the basement. They
laughed when they saw the shock on Dan's face, when he had to watch kids,
little kids being used like rag dolls. He hated the videos, hated the men
who used them, who used him, hated himself.

Dan knew how to get into the basement. Knew when Mr. Allen was out doing
whatever it was that he did. Knew how to wriggle through the ground level
window at the back of the house. Dropped through the window. Twisted his
ankle a bit. Ignored the pain. Limped. Turned over three of the oil lamps -
Mr. Allen called them Fastnet lamps, said they were really expensive - lit
the fourth and threw it as hard as he could against the far wall.

It explodes, splatters the oil everywhere. Flames spring
alive. Tongues. Streams. Dan turns and limps to the window. Climbs onto the
chair. Grips the window sill. Kicks the chair below him away. Fear gives up
strength. Pulls himself up. Wriggles out of the window on his belly. Lies
there panting, sweat pouring down his face, his back, his arse. Pulls
himself up. Limps across the backyard. Slides away a fence post. Slips
through. Slides it close behind him. Limps home. Doesn't look back.

Sirens screamed.

"Dan, Dan, come and look. There's a house on fire. My God, I think it's
Mr. Allen's house. You could've been in there. You could've been hurt. I
could've lost you." She hugged Dan, held him tight, tighter than he could
ever remember. Dan started crying. He didn't know why he was crying -
crying, sobbing, burying his face in his mother's breasts. And she held
him, held in the way he'd always wanted her to hold him. Maybe she'd been
hurt, too. Maybe they could get out of this shit together.

Dan never saw Mr. Allen again. He saw only a photograph of him, and
Mr. Raheem. They were in the local newspaper. Two weeks after the
fire. 'Stuff' had been found in an upstairs bedroom. The basement was
totally burned out. Security doors had saved the rest of the house. Allen
and Raheem were arrested for possession and distribution of the
'stuff'. Thousands of photographs, hundreds of videos. Kids were in most of
them. Animals, too. Allen and Raheem 'starred' in some of them. Level 5, it
said. Whatever that was. Police were carrying out 'further investigations'.

There was no knock at the door. No "Excuse me, ma'am, we'd like to have a
word with Dan. We think you should be present... "

A few weeks later they were gone. Dan's mother and her new husband, his new
'uncle', and Dan were gone, away, far far away. It was true. Dan's 'uncle'
was rich. He rented out the house in town. With its own indoors, basement
swimming pool. His 'uncle' became his step-dad, and it was true, he was
kind, considerate, fun... and in love with Dan's mum. Eventually, a few
days after Dan graduated from college, the couple moved to Spain, and "Dad"
he handed over the town house to Dan: "You're a great kid, Dan. I'm proud
to call you 'son'. I'm sorry you're not coming with us, but it's your life,
your decision." He hugged Dan, held him in his arms, and whispered, "Live
long and prosper".

That night Dan cried again... and again he was not sure why he was
crying. He laughed away the tears and headed down to the basement - and the
swimming pool.............

"Wow! Does this place really belong to you?" says Elwyn as I show him round
my home. "You must be mega rich." He frowns. "But you're only a teacher,"
he says before adding, "Sorry."

I laugh. "No, I'm not rich. I got it from my mum and dad. They live in
Spain now. I'm sort of the caretaker."

The boy nods.

"Wanna have a swim before lunch?" I say.

"Cool."

Elwyn follows me to the rear of the house. I open a door. We go down seven
steps. I flick a switch. Light floods the basement.

"Wow!" he gasps. His eyes widen. "You've got your own swimming pool. It's
bigger than the one in our school. It's amazing."

I start stripping. I throw my clothes into one of the cubicles. Elwyn's
naked before I am. He leaps, bum first, into the pool making an almighty
splash. I dive in, swim beneath him, pull him under. He surfaces, blowing
water like a dolphin, spluttering, "Not fair, not fair." Dives beneath
me. Grabs my cock. Gives it a jerk - Ouch! - and swims away. He doesn't get
far. I catch him. Hold him. He fastens his legs round my hips. We fasten
our open mouths together and kiss till we're out of breath.

We frolic in the pool for half an hour, then climb out. A quick
shower. Elwyn looks for a towel. No towels. "C'mere," I say. I lead him to
an enclosed area, hit a switch. Hot air blasts down from vents in the
ceiling. I turn the naked boy round and round under the vents, hand and
finger drying his hair as I do so. His penis thickens, lengthens to its
four inches, and rises to point stiffly up. When he's dry-ish, I point him
towards one of the recliners by the pool, slap his ass - "Rest up before we
head out for lunch," I say. Off he trots, his way led by his three-inch
hard-on. I finish drying myself.

I make my way to the recliner next to Elwyn's. Flick a switch. Music as
mellow as the lighting filters round us. I look at Elwyn. He's fondling his
erection. He's looking at me. My cock hardens and stretches in sympathy.

"Do you want to fuck me?" he whispers.

"Nope," I say.

A frown. He looks hurt. "Why not?"

"Because your bumhole's bruised," I say. "It looks a bit red and tender. It
must be sore. I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't care," he says. "Fuck me."

"Nope," I say.

He drums his fingers on the side of his recliner.

"Can I play with you then?"

"Play with you?"

"Play with you. Sex stuff."

Elwyn's penis is standing straight, pointing at his belly.

What you would like to do? We've only got half an hour till lunch."

"Can I fuck you then?"

I laugh. He frowns. Narrows his eyes. I realise I've hurt his pride.

"No, it's not that," I say, then add, "I haven't been fucked since I was a
boy."

His eyes widen. "You mean, you've been fucked, too?"

I nod.

"Wow," he says.

"I don't want you - " I emphasise the word 'you'. - "to hurt me". I
emphasise the word 'me'.

It's Elwyn's time to laugh. He wiggles his dick at me and says "With this?
Don't be silly." He underestimates himself. I haven't been fucked
since... all that stuff in the past. To be honest, I never found anyone I
wanted to fuck me. But as I look at Elwyn, I realise that's what I want. As
I look at him, lying there, in the beauty of boyhood, I want to feel him
inside me.

"Well, I know I'm big for my age, so I'd better loosen you up first."

"And how are you going to go about that?" I ask.

"Bend over that recliner thing," he says.

I turn, place a hand on either arm of the recliner, and bend over. To tell
the truth, I'm trembling with excitement.

I sense Elwyn kneeling down behind me. Then I'm genuinely shocked when I
feel the ten-year-old boy's probing my arse hole. I stand and turn round.

"Elwyn, I haven't had a shit this morning. Are you sure......?

Elwyn laughs.

"You said you love everything about me - even my shit. Same here. If
there's a turd up there, I'll find it... but that doesn't mean I'm going to
eat it." He pauses then adds: "Maybe I'll just give it a blow job." If I
was shocked before, I'm stunned now. "Where the fuck does a ten-year-old
get language like that?" Then I remember his home, his mother, his
'uncles'. There's probably lots I don't know about Elwyn Migden.

"Your treat," I say, and resume the position, legs spread wide.

I give the boy five minutes of slurping, slavering, probing, then stand up
and take over.

"Lie back on the recliner," I say. He lies back. I step to the
recliner. One leg on one side, one leg on the other. Poised over his
groin. "Put your dick in me," I say. I pull my cheeks as far apart as I
can. I lower myself on to him. I feel the head of his cock against my
arsehole. My water, the shower, the warm air, his fingers, his tongue have
loosened my anal muscles. It doesn't take long till the head pops into me.

"Hold yourself in place," I say. I'm a PE teacher. I can do a hundred
squats easily.

Slowly I lower myself.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck..." That's not me.

That's Elwyn.

I slide myself up and down his sweet ivory shaft until he is completely
inside me. I've never seen lust on the face of a ten-year-old boy. I'm
looking at it now. I begin lowering and raising myself, keeping my eyes
fixed on his face all the time.

I ride the boy faster, squeezing his cock with my anal muscles. "It's so
fucking tight... so hot... so..." Elwyn again.

His eyelids flutter. His eyes roll. His breathing is difficult. I press my
cock horizontally. Strings of cum shoot up his chest, his chin, his
nose. He 'cums' almost immediately, his little hips bouncing himself as
deeply into me as he can.

Only the sounds of our breathing and the muzac filtering from the
speakers. I ease myself from him. He is still hard. I help him from the
recliner. He can hardly stand. I usher him to the shower. We stand beneath
it letting the clean, fresh water wash away the past.

Later, as I'm doing up the buttons of his pyjamas, and packing him off to
bed - his own room, his own bed - Elwyn looks up at. I sense his anxiety.

"Dan... will Ryan be with us tomorrow?  Will have to...?

I brush the hair out of his eyes.

"Nope. Ryan will not be with us tomorrow... or on any other day."

I sense his relief.

"And, Dan... "  There is a longer pause. Then - "I love you."

I wonder how long it's been since Dan used these words. I know how hard it
is for any boy to say them.

"I know that," I tell him. "But there is something you don't know."

"What?"

"I'll always love you far more than you ever love me."

Smiles and tears.

"Now get that sweet little ass of yours into bed. We've got a busy day
tomorrow. Breakfast. Work on your algebra, which, by the way, sucks. Half
an hour's swimming. Then off to the tennis courts. And all that's before
lunchtime. Now, scat!"

Elwyn, with impeccable timing, turns his back, bends over, and releases
three musical farts in my direction.

Then he's off and running.

*********

Five years on and I'm downstairs typing this stuff out. Upstairs I can hear
'Like a Rolling Stone' pouring out of Elwyn's bedroom. The young man is a
Elwyn fanatic; Elwyn freak would be more accurate. It's the 21st
century. The boy is 15 years old and he is hooked on Bob Elwyn. There's no
accounting for taste. I turn the volume up and listen to 'Dance with Life'.

Elwyn is getting ready for a date. It'll be his boyfriend - and best friend
- Oscar. On his 13th birthday, Elwyn announced to the world he is gay, and
brought Oscar home for my approval - and Oscar's approval of me.

Elwyn won his place at the boarding and, to his mother's delight, spends
most of his free weekends and holidays here. It suits him, it suits his
mother, it suits me. He can move in permanently when he wants to. He knows
that. It gives him the security he needs. He is doing brilliantly at
school. He'll go on to university. He'll do brilliantly there. What will he
study? What will he become? I don't know. He doesn't know. There are so
many things he can turn his talents to. And there's no rush. For Elwyn,
there's time, lots and lots of time.

And me?

The new 11-year-olds have arrived at school. And one of them, his name is
Theo, is a stunning red-head. I walk into the boys' toilets during gym. The
place is empty - except for Theo. He is standing at a urinal spraying piss
against the porcelain. I stand beside him, fish out my dick, and let my
piss cross his. He looks up at me with a grin.

"You've got a really big one, sir," he says.

"So have you," I say.

"It gets even bigger," he says.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"It's Theo," he says.

"Hi, Theo," I say.

"Hi, sir," he says.

"Hey, Theo," I say. "I saw you playing tennis. You're good. Have you had
lessons?"

"I used to have them, sir, but mum can't afford them anymore."

The grin had gone.

"Well, I run a club on Tuesday after school: 3.30 to 5. It's free - if
you've got talent... and you've got talent. If you fancy it, tell your mum,
get permission and turn up on Tuesday."

"Sure thing, sir!"

The grin was back.

"And if you're any good, you might be able to come camping with us," I say.

"Wow!" he says. "I'm gonna ask my mum tonight. She'll say okay. She always
does."

We shake the last few drops of piss from our dicks.

Theo's got half a hard on.

As we leave the toilets, I think: "Here we go again."

Round and round in the circle game.

**************************************************************************

This is the final version of a story Nifty were kind enough to publish a
few years ago. I wasn't happy with it. I am now. So off into the big wide
world it goes. Like the boys in the story.  Jon Kent