Marek and us  


This is a work of FICTION for ADULTS only.  Do NOT read this if you are under 18 or if you are not an adult according to the laws of your State or Country.  Do NOT read this if you are easily offended or if you are not interested in fantasies involving young boys.  This file contains sexually EXPLICIT material.

The author does not condone any of the acts in this file.  This story was not written to advocate sexual activity with minors. Agatha Christie wrote about murderers all her life.  She was not a criminal.  

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                                               story codes: (b/b, t/b, oral, anal)


Marek and us 

Part 5      

   No one in our village locked their doors. Nobody owned 
anything of value. The notion of a thief entering a home and 
taking something was totally alien to the few members of our 
community. We all knew each other anyway.

This made it easy for us to search for the map of the 
treasure. Mr. Pulaski went to the chapel every day, trotting 
fastidiously, supporting himself on his cane. The ritual of 
the ninety-year-old man afforded us a solid hour to peruse 
through his meagre possessions for the coveted item. We 
waltzed into his house via the front door and searched every 
nook and cranny, carefully putting back the objects we had 
moved in their original spot. 

Usually, after hours of unproductive investigating, we'd 
resort to fucking Oskar in Mr. Matejko's hangar or anywhere
we wouldn't get caught. The willing tyke cherished the 
attention, although we were strictly interested in his small
butt. Julian was the obsessed one. He fucked his little
brother three of four times a day. Sometimes, I slipped into
him while he did it to Oskar. The three of us were merged
together. A pleasant way of sealing our friendship.

Julian got his first wet orgasm. We told Oskar that our
dick juice was essential to the nutrition of a healthy lad.
The little redhead diligently opened his mouth every time to
capture our boyish spurts of cum and swallowed without 
objecting once.

Despite days of trespass, we could not find the 
location of the map in Mr. Pulaski's house. I didn't want 
to believe that Marek had lied to us. To be honest, I 
doubted we would ever discover the map but I esteemed the 
company of the would-be soldier too much to let a few weeks 
of sterile rummaging get in the way of my budding 
infatuation. Marek was a young God. He was everything that 
I aspired to become.

By then, we were having sex on a regular basis. I had grown 
accustomed to the incessant advances of the horny teenager. We 
gave each other hand jobs and blowjobs. In between sex, we 
listened to western rock n' roll music, smoked cigarettes and 
drank vodka. Marek made me feel older, important and useful. 
If my mother ever found out that I sneaked out every evening 
to go meet the older boy, nearly a man, she would have spanked
my little butt black and blue. The risk associated with my 
improper conduct contributed to the exhilaration.

I was particularly fascinated with Marek's circumcised 
penis. How even in a dormant state, the large bare head at the
end of it made it seem like he was aroused. Removing the 
foreskin was an uncommon chirurgical procedure for our part of 
the world. It turned out the boy had to be cut as a toddler 
for medical reasons. A blessing, for I spent hours licking the
big knob, feasting on the smooth spongy flesh.

Periodically, I sat on Marek's spike. He held my waist 
while I lowered my little ass on it until the hot compact 
mass pierced into me. My ambition was to be fucked by the 
tall lad in the same fashion he had fucked Julian. Hard and 
deep. So, I impaled myself, training my reluctant hole. 
Having the prick of the boy I idolized so much inside me was 
invigorating. I bounced on the prong and jacked off, 
achieving terrific orgasms. A dozen of so little puddles of 
my cum dotted his flat chest afterwards.

Eventually, I presumed that I was ripe for the ride and
let Marek take control. Laying naked on my tummy with two 
pillows under my midsection, my butt itched for the thunder of
his brute strength. The teenager slapped my buns and proceeded
to stuff his nine-inch cock into my waiting asshole. "Ughhhhn"
I grunted when the big head burst inside me. My fingers 
clutched the sheets. His broad penis progressed rapidly into
my guts and finally his prickly pubes tickled my crack.

I let out a moan. Marek kissed the back of my head and
began to fuck me. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" I exhaled, melting from
the intense dose of pain and pleasure. Tiny jolts travelled up
my spine. One moment, I could feel his bloated cock squeezed
between my buttocks and the other it throbbed in my rectum. The big lad raved, "Ohhhh yeahhh ohhhhhhhh yeahhhhhh", as 
he drove his fuckstick in my twelve-year-old butt.

I regressed to the shy little kid that I used to be, 
dissimulating how much I enjoyed the feel of his thick meat 
stretching my asshole. Marek rested on top of me and 
accentuated his thrusts. His head next to mine, he slammed into
me harder and harder and harder, until he pounded my butt, just
like I wanted. Uncontrollable whimpers came out of my mouth 
as his weight crushed me and his pelvis smashed against my 

   "Yeahhh ohhhhhhhh yeahhhhhh FUCK! Yeahhh!" He yelled 
out, obviously relishing the savage coupling.

My senses went into overload. My prostate quivered from
the incessant jabbing. I raised my chin and wailed, spilling my
boyish load on the pillow beneath me. Marek's erection swelled.
His hot teenage cream gushed out into my rectum. We jerked in 
unison, savouring every fleeting second of our mutual orgasms.

Near the end of august, Oskar Julian and I multiplied our 
visits to Mr. Pulaski's house to find the map of the treasure. 
We checked everywhere again.

   "I don't think it's in here." Oskar sighed, bored and
discouraged by our raids.

   "It's gotta be in here!" I asserted. Or perhaps not? It 
occurred to me that the wise man must have known that inside 
his domicile would be the first place someone would look for 
it. Thus, I dragged my young partners in crime outside.

It was Oskar who found it. The precious item was lodged 
under a loose plank on the side of the house. We fled with our 
loot to examine it in a safe spot. Our eyes aglow, we studied 
the yellowed cloth. It showed a drawing of our village with 
mysterious indications. Underneath, written in coarse black 
ink, were the directions to get to the treasure.

   "This is it!" I yelled out. "Thank you, Oskar! You found 
it!" I rejoiced, kissing him square on the mouth.

We raced to our respective homes to get our shovels and 
reunited at the town square. I read the directions aloud, 
marching cautiously with my buddies in tow.

"From the well walk north twenty steps."
"Turn right after the big rock."
"walk another hundred steps east into the forest."
"Under the oldest willow tree is where ye shall find me."

Evidently, the oldest willow was the tallest. That we knew 
and promptly dug amidst the angry roots. Ten minutes later,
Julian unearthed a wooden box. I dove in the hole, clearing 
away the dirt with my hands. The brothers kneeled beside me. 
I removed enough soil to open the lid. We glanced at each 
other, our tummies afire with pangs of jubilance.

   "We're gonna be rich!" I cheered, hugging my friends. 
Julian screamed and Oskar jumped up and down.

The box creaked when I opened it.

Our eyes bore into what it contained.

In the middle of the velvet lining, there was a book. I 
adjusted my glasses and read the title.

   "What does it say? What does it say?!" Oskar peeped.

   "Folktales, Legends and Extraordinary stories of Eastern 
Europe" I muttered.

The two redheads didn't comprehend. I browsed through the 
pages, getting that sinking feeling that I was so familiar 
with. Under the name of our village, a short paragraph told of
how the founder had fabricated the false tale to attract 
settlers. I should have been irate, dejected or in denial. But 
I laughed. I laughed hysterically. The brothers looked at me 
as if I had lost my mind. I tumbled on the ground, holding my 
sides, aching from laughing too hard.

Yes, we had been screwed.

In every sense of the word.

THE END     

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