Date: Thu, 03 Jan 2002 17:37:44 +0800 From: Colin Cleary Subject: THE JASON CARTER STORY - 3 The stories included in this anthology are fiction, you might even say fantasy, and have been written to amuse, intrigue, entertain, divert and delight. They contain scenes of graphic inter-generational sex; if these are not to your taste, or if they are outlawed in your city, state, providence, or country, read no further, but simply go elsewhere for your entertainment. All characters who appear in the stories are fictional, and any similarities between them and the genuine living or dead are coincidental and unintentional. The only exception is Aaron Carter about whose sexuality the stories make no reference whatsoever; he does seem a nice kid and I appreciate his bubblegum rap, but that's it. Above all, if you have not yet reached the age of consent, read no further; it is not the intention of the site nor the writer to fill your head with dreams and desires 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. To everyone else who takes some pleasure from this tale, may you and yours live long and prosper. 3 - IN THE GOOD OLD SUMMER TIME I lie on my back in the dry hay, watching the swallows swoop and dive overhead. They circle the rafters, darting in and out through the open window lancing across a dusty shafts of sunlight. The dust dances in the hot air like a billion stars and I start thinking about the million billion stars in the universe. And our planet, like a green-blue speck of dust drifting in all this immensity. And me, a tiny speck on a tiny speck, lying in the hay on a hut summer's afternoon. In time the sun will set and mum will call me for dinner. Company's coming for dinner, though I'm not sure who. Probably some of my parents' friends. I'll have to sit around all evening on my best behaviour, bored to tears. I linger in the barn. All the mystery of summer is encapsulated in this afternoon. I'm wondering what I'm doing here. I could have gone to Summer Camp with Lee and Declan but I'd this urge to be alone. No, not to be alone, but to be left alone; there is a difference. So I did what no self-respecting teenage boy would do; I opted to spend the last of the summer holidays with mum and dad though, I knew, there would be few people my age around. What did it matter? I only wanted one person - a boy like myself who liked other boys. There, I've said it, it's out in the open, at least to myself, and maybe that's the hardest bit of all. Ever since I can remember, I've liked other boys, I mean, really liked them. But it's only in the last year or so it's become overwhelming, only since I started getting erections - and do I get erections! - by simply looking at boys has it become hard to take. I didn't choose to be like this. I don't want to be like this. But this is the way I am, and I guess I'll learn to live with it. After all, loving other boys is better than loving nobody. Sweat trickles down my back, gluing my Aaron Carter T-shirt to the skin underneath. I itch slightly from bits of straw that have crept under my clothes. The air is sweetly fragrant from the soft cushions of new mown hay. I stretch my arms and legs luxuriously, wishing I could stay here forever. Just me and my dreams - and the hard-on beneath the faded denim at my crotch. The barndoor opens, squeaking on rusty hinges. I freeze, resenting this intrusion into my private kingdom. I creep to the edge of the loft and peer downward through swirling columns of sunlit dust. A lone figure leading a horse enters. The image of Shane pops into my mind; the movie was on TV at the weekend; ancient but really good. Maybe this was my Shane coming backl for me. At first my eyes, unaccustomed to the brightness by the window, are unable to make out details in the dimness below. The intruder unsaddles the horse and begins settling him. I recognise Declan's older brother, Paul. Is that why I chose to spend the last fortnight of the summer at this stud farm. I'm about to call out a cheerful greeting to him, when something in the furtiveness of his movements stops me. My heart is thumping now. God, he is handsome. That thick straight auburn hair. Wide-set eyes. Straight nose, a bit long, but it suits him. Tanned skin. A fucking dimple in his chin! Paul should be in movies. If it was porno, I could be with him! Stop day-dreaming, you idiot. Paul's the real thing. You don't need dreams. Paul tends to the horse quickly, glancing now and again at the door. As soon as he is finished, he leads the horse outside and releases it into the paddock. A quick, nervous look around, and he slips back into the barn and hauls the door shut behind him. I watch curiously as he sits down on a bale of hay, then pulls a magazine out of his shirt and begins to read. Why is he so secretive? I slither closer on my belly, my hard-on pressing into the wooden boards, trying to get a better look. His hand is inside his chequered shirt. He's pulling the shirt open. No T-shirt. He is so beautiful, all male and so beautiful. His nipples are dark against his tanned skin; each one like an old bronze penny; each one three times the size of mine. I don't understand why guys have nipples but I'm glad they do. I can barely make out anything from this distance, but I see enough to answer my question. Paul's reading one of those dirty magazines, the kind with the naked pictures. His face is scrunched up, and at first I think he must have a stomach ache or something. Then I notice that his jeans are unzipped, his hand is down the front of them. His hand is moving rhythmically, and I can hear him grunting and moaning in time with it. Hypnotized, I hang over the ledge. A cloud of dust puffs up in my face. I sneeze loudly. The noise echoes round the barn. Paul freezes. "Who's there?" he calls hoarsely. He has such a comical expression on his face, I can't help giggling. He's got that 'Caught you!' look, like when I was taking a shit in the orchard two days before and mum came strolling with with one of her friends! She still hasn't forgiven me! "It's just me - Jason, Jason Carter," I stupidly add. Paul seems relieved. He stuffs the magazine back into his shirt and clambers up the ladder to the loft, his zip still open. "Hi, kiddo!" he greets me cheerily. "Why didn't you say something when I came in?" He ruffles my hair casually, just like he always does. Today, this irritates me. I've had a crush on Paul since I was eight years old, but he's never taken me seriously. Now, Paul's a seriously good-looking guy. A slightly older version of Brad Renfro, that kid who was in 'The Client'. I'd a crush on Renfro for weeks after watching the video. Paul has the same open face, the same kind of "well, fuck you" attitude, and the same smouldering looks that turn people's heads for a second look. Got the same kind of body, too. Well-built, but lithe. I mean, the kind of long-legged, long-torso body that could wrap itself right round you and swallow you in a couple of gulps, if it had a mind too. Shit, Renfro was way out my league - whatever my league was! - but here was my Paul, caught with his pants wide open, if not actually down. "Why do you always hafta call me that?" I snap petulantly. "I ain't a baby anymore! I'm a guy now! See? I've even got hair!" Impulsively, I push down my shorts a bit to show a few swirls of dirty blond hair. Paul chuckles appreciatively. "Yeah, kidd- Jason," he corrects himself in time, "You sure do. How old are you now, anyway?" "Thirteen and a half!" I declare proudly. "Well! Practically a grown guy!" He's teasing me. Angry, I wrestle him to the hay strewn floor and begin tickling him. For a few minutes he tolerates this, laughing. Suddenly, he flips me over, and before I know what's happened, I'm flat on my back and Paul's sitting across my chest. I stick out my tongue at him in mock anger, but I'm actually enjoying the attention and the closeness. His knees are on either side of me, his zip open. If he moved up only a couiple of feet, I could... I try to maintain a frown, but something catches my eye and I burst into giggles. Paul looks confused for a minute, follows the direction of my gaze and flushes beet-red when he sees what I'm laughing at. Something soft and pink is peeking out between the zipper teeth. I've never seen a big boy blush before; the sight makes me giggle again. Gritting his teeth, Paul quickly stands and closes his pants. He looks uptight. I'm still lying on the floor, gasping for breath. Finally, the alarming colour begins to fade from his cheeks and ears. Anxious to change the subject, I glance nervously around. The magazine has fallen out of his shirt during our brief scuffle, so I pick it up and begin flipping through the pages. It's a dirty magazine all right, but everybody in it is male! Not a single pair of tits in sight! These are all guys, big naked guys with hard-ons! and they're doing things to each other! Dirty things! Things that make my hard-on ache as I turn the pages in slow motion. "What do you think?" Paul asks abruptly. "Well... they're a little... strong..." My voice trails off weakly. He gives me an encouraging nod, so I continue. "I mean... look at those bodies! I wish I looked like that..." I sigh wistfully. "I'll probably never have a dick like that..." Paul sinks down to lie in the hay beside me, our backs leaning against a square, tied bale of corn. "Hey..." Paul's voice is warm and soothing. "There's nothing wrong with your dick. If you've got hair, I'll bet you've got a decent-sized prick... " As if to confirm his words, his hand slides inside the front of my baggy jeans. Shit, I'm wearing no underpants! His palm is rough against my skin. His touch sparks strange tremors inside me, and I shiver slightly, as if from a sudden breeze. Slowly, he circles my pubes with fingertips that seem to trail fire behind them. My prick stiffens as his fingertips brush the head. His left arm is across my shoulders, his right hand is in my shorts, I turn the pages of the magazine. We gaze at the pictures while Paul feels and fondles my erection. I'm looking at the guys in the pictures and wishing there was a picture of Paul. I want to see him nude, naked, posed like that, with a hard-on. My breathing's a little jerky now. Paul slips my cock out of the opening at the front of my shorts. It is red and hard, hot and slippery. I am acutely embarrassed. I watch his big fingers and thumb close around the shaft; he jerks me gently. Paul turns my face towards him. I am solemn and serious; he is grinning. "Nice, real nice," he whispers, squeezing my cock. "Nothing to be ashamed of here, kiddo. Good-looking boy, good-looking cock." I snuggle into him, reassured. There's a pressure building up down there, in my cock and balls, in my stomach, it makes me tighten my asshole. Of course I know about ejaculation and stuff like that, but knowing about it isn't the same as feeling it. What will it be like to 'cum', to squirt my stuff with an older guy watching? Will I be embarrassed? Will Paul be embarrassed? It's all so scary; all so thrilling; all so right. A loud snorting sound interrupts us. Paul jumps guiltily, stuffing the magazine back under his shirt. "It's okay," I whisper. "It's just Morgan." I lead him to the window, pointing out the familiar sight of Morgan, our bull, mounting one of the cows. Today he has selected Maggie, a fat reddish cow who placidly ignores his attentions. Morgan's cock dangles grotesquely, all pink and slimey looking. I pick up one of the pebbles I keep by the window and throw it at him. He ignores it, as usual. The is a strange gleam in Paul's eye as he watches the rutting bull. His arms slip around me, one hand low enough to stroke my ass, and I see the acts before me with new eyes. What has previously been just a disgusting ritual assumes new meaning, and a strange thrill courses through me. A sudden thought strikes me, and I turn to Paul, eyes wide with wonder. "Is your...I mean...is it...like...that?" I stammer, blushing furiously. A grin splits Paul's face. "You've never seen a big one before, have you?" he asks. I shake my head. His grin broadens. "Want to see mine?" I nod, and he hauls it out of his jeans. His cock reminds me of a thick salami sausage as it stretches out from his body, seeming to defy gravity. It makes my four inches seem puny. "Touch me..." he urges. I reach out carefully and touch just the end of it. It's getting hard, slightly rubbery, and hot. I snatch my hand back guiltily. It's so more intimidating than my own pale, pink column. Will I really be like that one day? Paul is laughing softly. "Here..." he urges, taking my hand in his. "You hold it like this." He curls my hand around his cock, then begins moving my hand slowly up and down his shaft. It feels alive, the way it pulses and throbs under my fingers. The skin is smooth and soft, radiating a fierce heat. It swells at my touch, growing harder and hotter by the minute. Paul isn't laughing anymore; instead, his eyes are closed in fierce concentration and his jaws are clenched. I touch something slippery and look down in confusion. Beads of clear liquid are seeping slowly out of the slit. Paul moans softly, then opens his eyes and stares piercingly at me. "Do you like that?" he asks gently. I hesitate a moment, unsure, then nod slowly. "Would you like to try something else, something that would really make me happy?" I nod again, slower this time. He takes out the magazine again and flips purposefully through the pages. "Here," he says, extending a picture toward me. "Think you could do that?" I look at the picture in bewilderment. It shows a teenager sitting on the edge of a bed, and a guy kneeling on the floor between his legs. They are both naked, and he seems to have his...thing...in the boy's mouth. My stomach lurches uncomfortably at the idea, but Paul is staring expectantly at me. I don't want him to think of me as just a baby! Defiantly, I say, "Sure, I could try - But you'll hafta tell me what to do..." From the grin that spreads slowly across his face, I know I've said what he wanted to hear. His smile causes a warm, bubbly feeling to creep through my groin, stomach and chest. "Here..." he whispers, gripping my shoulders gently. He pushes me slowly down to my knees, so that his erect cock bobs directly in front of my face. It bounces off the end of my nose a couple times. I'm trying hard not to giggle. "Now, open your mouth..." I do as he instructs, and he slowly eases himself into my mouth. The liquid at the tip is warm and salty, not at all unpleasant to taste, though I'm not so sure I like its slimy consistency. He feels bigger than he did when I held him in my hand. Hotter, too. I feel like I'll choke in another minute, but I'm trying not to. I don't think Paul would like that. "Close your lips round it, and suck gently..." he instructs. Hesitantly, I do as he says. He begins moving slowly in and out of my mouth, sliding over my lips and tongue. At first, I just kneel there. Then, as I gain courage, I begin exploring his hot shaft with my tongue. He groans. Encouraged, I begin flickering my tongue over the smooth head, feathering it along the sensitive underside of the shaft, and even darting the tip of my tongue into the tiny hole at the end. I am taking my cues from Paul; whatever he seems to like, I repeat or explore further. He's breathing hard now, and I can feel him pulsing gently. The salty fluid begins to flow more rapidly, first one drop and then another. Suddenly, he wraps both hands tightly in my hair. I gasp at the brief pain, then forget it as he thrusts firmly into my mouth and holds me there, pressed tightly against his groin. He is all the way inside my mouth, his curly, dark pubic hair tickling my nose and lips, and the head of his cock rubbing the back of my throat. A hot throbbing begins, and I feel it all along my tongue and the insides of my cheeks and on my lips. He's jerking my head back and forwards now, so his cock pushes deep inside my mouth, draws back to the head, then pushes halfway in again. I'd like to take him in all the way, but as the shaft bends into my throat, I've to gag and push him away again. Paul finds a nice, easy rhythm, and it becomes a pleasure to feel his thick, sweaty shaft sliding in and out of me. I become less passive; sometimes I squeeze hard with my lips, other times I let it slip in and out easily. My hands seemed wasted, so with one I squeeze his left buttock, with the right I cup his balls and squeeze them, too. I'm pulling him onto me, pulling him into me. I seem to be doing something right; Paul's breath is coming in gasps, like he's been swimming underwater too long and has to come up for air. Spurts of warm liquid spurt from him into my mouth and throat. The jets are thick and salty and have a familiar smell that I can't quite place. But they smell of sex; all around me everything smells of sex. My eyes are watering terribly, and I begin to choke. Will it ever end? Finally the throbbing dies down. A few erratic spasms shake him, and then he is still. He draws a deep, ragged breath and I realize he has been holding his breath for a while. With a deep sigh, he withdraws himself from my mouth and draws the end of his semi-hard cock along my cheeks as if he is cleaning himself. I don't mind. I quite like it. It seems part of the act itself. Then I turn away and spit out the liquid that remains in my mouth. It forms a small, slimy puddle that is quickly absorbed by the dusty hay. I'm not stupid. I know what it is. It's strange to think there's millions of sperm down there, and down my throat, all swimming around blindly looking for something they'll never reach. Is that what boys like us do - swim around blindly, thrashing our little tails, looking for the way to fulfil our destiny? Shut the fuck up! That's me to me. I've always suffered from babbling inside my own head. "Excellent!" Paul sighs. I nod shakily, not altogether certain that I agree. It was different, yes, and even a little exciting, but I'm not sure I'd care to try it again right away. At least he'd enjoyed it, though. Maybe now he'd see me as a real guy, rather than just a pesky kid. My own cock is so hard it hurts. I look down and see the bulge tenting my shorts. Paul's eyes follow mine. He eases me backwards until I tumble in the hay. Then he follows, lying along side me as, looking into my eyes, he undoes the buttons of my jeans and slips them off, disposing of my socks and trainers as he goes. "Mmmm," he murmurs, "you sure ain't a little kid anymore." I blush with pleasure, then blush even more as his lips graze my throat, my chest, my nipples, my tummy - and yes, yes, he slips the head of my cock into his mouth easing back my foreskin with his lips. I'm already wet and slippery down there with sweat and what I learn is pre-cum. He takes my whole length into is mouth, his head bobbing up and down on my erection. I stiffen for a moment as I feel the fingers of his hand reach into my crack. What must be his middle finger strokes my dirtiest bit, but it doesn't seem dirty and I relax as he whispers in my ear, "Relax, baby, take it easy." The sucking, the stroking, the probing goes on and on making my cock ache, my stomach flutter, the perspiration stand out on my forehead and chest. I'm going to explode and implode at the same time.... then Paul takes his mouth away and sits up. I'm sick with disappointment till he puts his arm around me and whispers, "'S okay, I'm going to finish you off. I wouldn't leave a guy strung out like that." I'm thrilled to hear him call me a guy, that makes us sort of equals. "But c'mere," he continues I want to show you something. He stands and pulls me up by the hand. It's funny us standing there, me with a hard-on and Paul's big cock hanging between his legs. Outside, the bull is still grunting and pumping away. We creep over to the window to watch. After a moment, I feel Paul's arm slide around my shoulders. "Looks like they're having fun, doesn't it?" he whispers. I shrug noncommittally. "Like to try it?" he asks. I turn and look at him in shock. "What, just like that?" I gasp, incredulous. "No, silly, of course not!" he replies teasingly. "People do it a lot differently. You'll like it. Come on..." he urges. "Well... okay..." I agree. I'm not really sure I'll like it, but Paul wants to and I do enjoy making him happy. He beams at me, and I know again I've said the right thing. I turn to face him and am surprised to see he has removed his shirt and shoes, and is completely naked. Not only that, but his cock is again pointing straight out from his body. It bounces comically as he walks. He's beautiful. That's not a word I often use, but I can't think of any other word that will do. Paul is beautiful. He's got a deep chest, narrow waist, strong hips bones, a tight little butt, masses of hair below his belly button, and big cock and a scrotum that actually swings between his legs. He's tanned all over, I mean all over. I make a mental note to ask how he managed that - tanned all over. He runs his fingers lightly up my leg, tangling them among the wispy curls, then runs them along my erection. Tiny electric shocks surge through me, weakening my knees and almost causing me to collapse. Paul notices and guides me over to a bale of hay near the window. The hay prickles a bit on my bare bottom, but I don't care right now. Paul's fingers have continued their lazy exploration of my private regions, slipping between my buttocks and even probing at my naughty hole. Pressure on my shoulders indicates I should kneel, get on all fours actually, which means I've to sling myself over the bale of hay so my bum is high in the air. I can lean my arms and elbows on the wide window sill and look out over the farm. It's such a perfect day.... problems all left alone, weekenders on our own, having fun. Where did that come from? I pray Paul's not a member of the Four-F Club: Find 'em, feel 'em, fuck 'em and forget 'em. I heard that at school last term. Neat, or what? From where I am, I can see Morgan is taking a lively interest in Maggie, sniffing at her rear and raising his front legs; he means business. With a shock, I see the bull's cock has hardened, lengthened to enormous size. How is he going to something like that inside the cow's fuck hole! His hands are firm against my shoulders as he adjusts my body to make it more comfortable for both of us. The hay is soft and deep here, though it tickles slightly. It makes a fine nest for us. Paul slowly runs his hands down my body, leaving tiny trails of goosebumps behind. I'm breathing as hard as he is now, and I know I want something - I'm not sure exactly what - very badly. There is a deep, sweet ache inside me,a void yearning to be filled, and I know somehow Paul will be able to fill it. At last his hands reach my thighs, and very gently he draws them apart. He kneels between my legs for a moment, then stretches out on top of me. For a moment his weight forces the breath from my body, but then I become accustomed to it and he no longer seems heavy. His hands fumble between my legs. At first I am perplexed, but then I realize his intent as I feel the head of his cock, hard and hot, pressing against the entrance to my bottom.. It seems so big! There is no way it could fit, but still he presses against me. He withdraws one hand and I turn to see some slippery fluid glistening on his fingertips. It is thick and slimy and I realise it is the goo my dad puts on a cow's private parts before Morgan does the business! I feel Paul smooth it between my buttocks, over my hole and then with a couple of fingers push a gob inside me. I jump with pain, but as he holds his fingers there, I relax and let his fingers do the walking. He uses two fingers to make circles round the inside of my lips, the bum lips, I mean. It's dirty, I know, but there's something really exciting about the whole thing. For a moment, I want to go 'Moo!' very loudly, but this is serious business so I stifle the sound and the thought. Still, I can't keep it completely at bay: Paul the Big Bad Bull is about to fuck Jason the silly little Heifer! He grips my thighs tightly, spreading them further apart, and positions himself over me. He is now centred on my tiny hole, pressing firmly against me. I'm glad I've used Lee/Declan's dildo quite a bit that summer; otherwise it would be impossibe. It hurts like hell, but with the promise of pleasure to come. I press back against him, anxious to feel him inside me. Slowly, he begins to slide into me. I whimper softly. It feels as if I'm being ripped apart. I want him to stop, to withdraw, yet paradoxically, I want him to continue. The pain grows sharper, and it seems I can feel delicate tissues tearing as he forces his way into me, but I match him push for shove. Suddenly there is a wave of greater pain, and then he slides easily in as if whatever had blocked him had been torn away. Now he pulls back, nearly withdrawing completely from my body. I moan weakly, not wanting him to leave me. In answer, he drives easily into me again. This time there is no obstacle, and he buries himself to the hilt. Again and again he lunges into me. I raise my hips to match his thrusts, reacting to the same primitive instincts I've observed so many times in the livestock. A fierce pressure seems to be building up inside me, until I feel as if I'll burst. Another thrust, and I can scarcely contain it. Another, and I am shoved over the brink. Every muscle in my body convulses. My toes clench and my thighs twitch wildly. I'm looking out of the window, sometimes eyes open, sometimes eyes clenched shut. Paul's hand is below me, jerking at my erection. I've never felt my cock so hard in my life. I know I'm going to spurt the hot gooey cum for the first time in my life. My eyes open. It's blurry, but I can pick out Morgan and Maggie. The bull's humping the fuck out of her now. That's the phrase that springs to my mind: humping the fuck... My gaze wanders across the field. Shit! On the other side of the field, I see mum and dad! They must be out for a stroll. mum raises her hand. She is giving me a wave. Dad joins in. It must be fucking weird for them to see their beloved son's head popped over a window sill on the upper floor of a barn on a hot sunny afternoon. I grin weakly, wave, then jerk as Paul stabs into me again and again. mum and Dad are heading this way! No! mum's a bit squeamish; the sight of Morgan humping the fuck out of Maggie's a bit much for her. I wonder what - uh! - her reaction - uh! - would be -uh! - if she saw - uh! - Paul - uh! uh! - humping the fuck out of me! I can feel my inner muscles contract fiercely around Paul's cock, gripping it tightly with almost the same movement I use to milk the cows. And it seems to have a similar result on him, because he plunges deep into me and holds himself there, throbbing wildly as his juices spurt into me. No sooner has Paul finished than he pulls out and grabs me. He turns me round and bends my body backwards over the bale. I'm helpless. My groin is on the centre of the bale, my cock sticking straight up. Almost in the same movement, Paul kneels and sucks me straight in, to the bottom of my shaft. I I feel his lips on my pubes. He's sucking hard and fast. It only takes seconds, then I'm spurting and squirting my stuff into him. It's shattering, just shattering! In the distance we hear a voice: Paul's mum: "Paul! Jason! Time for tea!" We jump guiltily, grabbing frantically for our clothes. "We'll be right there!" I shout back in the general direction of the house. Hastily, we brush the dust and hay from our hair and sweaty bodies, then dress. Paul pauses to give me a quick kiss, then we scamper down the ladder. As we leave the barn, Paul whispers we can come back this evening. He puts his arm over my shoulder as we wander out of the barn. I can feel his cum squelching in my butt. I tug his sleeve. "What?" "When we come back this evening, Paul, it's my turn to be the bull." He grins at me: "Sure 'nuff, kiddo, sure 'nuff." Then he pauses, stops and looks at me. "Done much riding this summer, Jason," he asks. "Naw, nobody seems to have time for me." "I've," says Paul. "All the time in the world. You're having your first lesson after tea. We'll go riding to Donnelly's Farm. Maybe cadge dinner over there. What do you say?" "Great," I say. "But what about the other stuff? You know, in the barn?" "That can wait," says Paul. "We've got two more weeks left." We turn and stroll on. As we go, Paul gives me a hug and whispers, "Declan is right. You are one helluva sexy guy. And tell you something else, you're a far better fuck than that little tyke."