AGEIST

What follows is, of course, pure fantasy, a story of a man and a young boy created simply for entertainment for those who are entertained by stories of men and young boys. If such stories do not entertain you then you shouldn't read this one, and if they do entertain you then perhaps you ought to consider donating something to Nifty who make it possible for you to be entertained.

 

Jack Jones had never thought of himself as being ageist. True, and he never denied that it was true, he was only interested in teenage boys, and preferably young to mid-teenage boys – he had nothing against the legal ones, but unless they were something a bit special, he wasn't all that interested in taking them to bed.

Not quite the same with the ones that hadn't yet made it to teenage status – a fit ten-year-old would have him thinking that another three years was all it needed to make the boy worth seducing, and the occasional wonder did cross his mind that perhaps, just perhaps, soft and innocent ten-year-old lips might feel quite nice on his forty-two year old cock, but he had never felt any serious inclination to investigate the reality of that idle wonder.

He'd wondered that about Russ' lips because Russ was an incredibly fit ten-year-old, not an ounce of baby fat on him, or at least he seemed that way to Jack, but that was only surmise as Jack had never seen the boy when he wasn't fully clothed.

He was a stunner, though; for his age a tall slender stunner with crinkly black hair and the most enticingly full lips and café-au-lait skin that needed to be licked to see if it tasted as good as it looked.

Jack spent many a night wondering if it might be possible to seduce the lad in three year's time, but seducing the son of a friend is always fraught with problems and success can be as disastrous as failure.

Jack had known Russ's mother since she, with her family, had arrived in Britain when she was fifteen, refugees from Africa, and, at nineteen, she'd become over-acquainted with a white cock, disappeared somewhere with that cock, reappearing nine years later without the cock but with café-au-lait Russ instead. 

"When are you going to get round to making a move, then?" Bianca asked Jack bluntly over coffee in the restaurant of the local supermarket. The meeting had been accidental rather than planned, but planned ones happened as well simply because, Jack thought, they got on well enough to enjoy brief spells of each other's company.

The look of shock must have been obvious on Jack's face as Bianca snorted into her coffee with amusement.

"Not on me, you idiot," she grinned, "If you'd fancied me you'd have tried years ago, when I was sweet sixteen. I meant on Russ."

Now it was Jack's turn to splutter into his coffee, which he did rather more messily than Bianca had done with hers.

"Don't be silly, Jack," Bianca smiled at him, "I know you go for boys and not girls and I've seen how you look at Russ."

"Bianca, I couldn't, I wouldn't," Jack stammered as he struggled to think of something sensible to say.

"Why not?" she sounded genuinely puzzled, "He's a really attractive boy, isn't he?"

"But," Jack managed.

"Oh," Bianca misunderstood completely, well, not completely but she did misunderstand Jack's main reason, "Because he's my son. Why should that be a bother?" she asked, "Every boy you've had has been some mother's son, so what's different about Russ?"

"He's your son, for a start," Jack felt obliged to point out, "I'm not in the habit of attempting to seduce the sons of friends."

"Why ever not?" Bianca still looked puzzled, "You'd have a head start, wouldn't you? You'd already know the boy, know if you fancied him or not and have a built-in excuse for seeing him. I mean, you do that with us, don't you? Come round for coffee or something but really come round hoping to see Russ?"

"It's not quite like that," Jack protested.

"It's alright, Jack," Bianca reached out a hand and laid it over Jack's wrist, "I don't see anything wrong in you liking boys and I get a sense of maternal pride that you think Russ is a boy to like, and being the very attractive boy that he is, some man's going to make a play for him sooner or later, so why shouldn't that man be you? After all, we've known each other for years and I know Russ would be perfectly safe with you."

"He's only ten, Bianca," Jack said, almost helplessly.

"Jack Jones," Bianca glared, "Are you telling me that you're an ageist? I've always thought you to be a civilised liberal man, and now you're telling me that you're an ageist?"

"No, I'm not," Jack attempted to protest.

"Oh no?" Bianca sneered, "You think my son's too young for you and you say you're not an ageist? How hypocritical is that?"

"He's ten, Bianca," Jack tried again, "He's not old enough to know about, well, about," Jack trailed off.

"How do you know? Have you asked him? No, of course you haven't because you don't think he's old enough to know what you're asking him. If that's not being ageist, what is?"

"He's ten, Bianca," Jack repeated in the vain hope that simply stating the boy's age was argument sufficient.

"Exactly!" Bianca pronounced triumphantly, "All you can do is repeat his age and you pretend that you're not being ageist? I will not have my boy growing up, having his head filled with ridiculous prejudice, believing that he must have girl friends and get married and then when it's far too late, discovering that he's not that keen on women and had made a dreadful mistake. Have you any idea of the number of married men there are who use rent boys? No, I didn't think so!"

"That's not the point," Jack should have known better than to try to argue with a woman, but he didn't and continued to fight the hopeless battle, "He probably doesn't even realise yet that he's got a cock," Jack made his final stand, "Let alone have any idea which sex he wants to use it with."

"Men!" Bianca snorted in disgust, "Imagine, if your limited mind is capable of imagining, the effect you may be having on Russ. He's not a stupid boy, he knows, because he is a boy, that he's a very attractive boy and you always smile at him when you see him, but you don't do anything other than just smile. So, of course he's bound to start wondering what's wrong with him, isn't he? Why can it be that you don't ever touch him? What can be wrong with him, he wonders? Just think of the confusion that must be causing in his ten-year-old mind!"

"Cause a lot more confusion if I just stuck my hand inside his pants!" Jack snorted.

"You don't know that!" Bianca glared, "It could be the very thing he's hoping you'll do. Think of the poor boy, playing with himself every night and wishing it was you playing with him."

"Is he old enough to play with himself?" Jack foolishly said.

"Of course he is," Bianca hissed, "And if he isn't then it's high time he was. If he hasn't started playing with it yet then he needs to be taught how to do it, doesn't he!"

"Wouldn't be just his that got played with," Jack's defences were giving way under the continued assault.

"Of course it wouldn't!" Bianca stated as a matter of known fact, "He'll need to learn how to deal with a man's cock, obviously."

"And if he doesn't like it?"

"Then he'll know he doesn't like it, won't he!"

"I give up," Jack sighed, admitting defeat.

"Good!" Bianca suddenly beamed, all smiles now, "Because you're going to be looking after Russ for a week while I'm away in London, and I expect you to seduce him. And," she added meaningfully, "I do not anticipate he'll be a virgin when I get back."

"Bianca!" Jack gasped, "For goodness sake, he's only ten! There are problems of, er, geometry. The relative size of pegs and holes, for example."

"Boys stretch," Bianca dismissed Jack's protest, "And I'm quite sure that you've stretched several before."

"None as young as ten," Jack protested.

"That'll be nice for Russ, then," Bianca smiled victoriously, "Knowing he's your first. That'll make him feel nice and special."

 

The real meaning of Bianca's cheerful, "He's all yours for the week," was not lost on Jack when a beaming, café-au-lait boy was deposited with him. That the boy's mother meant she expected her son to be seduced, and seduced as completely as possible, had been made very clear, and even clearer by the fact that ten-year-old Russ arrived with only a small backpack, nowhere near large enough to contain a week's worth of boy clothes.

"Mum said you don't want me to behave in any special way," young Russ parroted his instructions, "I've got to be just like I am at home."

"Of course," Jack agreed, smiling at the boy, who, he was obliged to confess to himself, was very much a boy worth smiling at, even if that was just to lay the basics for three years' time when he'd be old enough to be smiled at in a different way.

"Good," Russ chirruped, "I'll get changed then."

"Changed? Into what?" Jack questioned, thinking of the few clothes that could possibly be crammed into a not over-filled-looking backpack.

"Just my boxers, of course," Russ made it seem like Jack's question had been a typically stupid adult question, "Always wear just boxers at home."

"I've never seen you wearing just boxers," Jack said suspiciously, "And I've been to your place lots of times."

"Oh, you've only seen me when I've got home from school, or something," Russ shrugged, "Not when I'm just chilling."

"Oh," Jack accepted the boy's reasonable sounding explanation, "Well, you're going to do a fair bit of chilling, I suppose."

"Cool," Russ interrupted, "Where's the bedroom?"

"Why do you need the bedroom?" Jack was thinking of the fact that there was only one bedroom and one bed. Bianca knew that, but Jack thought she probably hadn't told Russ and he felt he ought to break that to the boy gently and later.

"Could just take trousers and shirt off here and dump them on the floor, but didn't think you'd like me doing that," the ten-year-old grinned a cheeky, ten-year-old, `I won that one' grin.

The idea of a boy, even a ten-year-old boy removing his trousers in Jack's lounge did not make Jack shudder with horror and disgust, and Russ's assumption that his shirt would join his trousers and no longer be in contact with his body had an effect that was quite the opposite of horror and disgust.

Bianca's assertion that he was ageist, though something he initially rejected, did on later reflection, have some truth in it; Jack's interest was in boys between thirteen and sixteen at the most, and that narrow range, he found himself unable to deny, did contain at least an element of ageism, and he felt it only reasonable that he should make an effort to counter that prejudice by allowing himself to enjoy the sight of an almost naked, very fit boy of ten.

"You don't have to dump them on the floor," he said reasonably, "You can fold them and put them on a chair to take to the bedroom later."

He felt quite smug about his reply until he realised that, to any observer, it would look like a quite advanced move in a seduction process.

"Okay," Russ chirped innocently, "If you don't mind me getting undressed with you watching."

"You're not going to get completely undressed?" Jack thought a completely nude Russ, stripped within ten minutes of being left by his mother, was going just a shade too far. Of course, if Russ were thirteen it would be a different matter, but he wasn't thirteen, he was ten, Jack had to remind himself.

"Not till bedtime," The boy grinned at Jack from under the shirt he was pulling over his head.

Fortunately for Jack's blood pressure and the diminishing remnants of his ageist prejudice, it was still only half-nine in the morning, which meant he had an entire day to consider how to deal with bedtime.

Jack did have several ageist matters to consider and as Russ had meant what he said when he declared he only ever wore boxers when he was chilling and had, with more cheeky grins, removed everything except boxers, trainers and socks included, and made a neat and tidy pile of them on a chair, so Jack now had a considerable acreage of flawless ten-year-old café-au-lait skin to try to avoid staring too obviously at, those matters were becoming in urgent need of resolution.

Why couldn't Bianca have waited another three years before deciding that her son needed to have the valuable life experience of being seduced? Try as he did, Jack could find no fault with her maternal instincts; Russ was far too gorgeous a boy to make it from tween to twink to adult without an attempt being made by someone at some point to seduce him, and if that attempt was made before his innocent mind was corrupted by conventional concepts of `heterosexual good, homosexual bad' then there was a greater possibility of the boy making up his own mind about which sex he'd prefer to have his fun with. Bianca's reasoning and logic was impeccable; if one hasn't tasted both apples and pears, how can one possibly know which one is liked best?

Jack knew he was an apple man, but what he did not know, though until Bianca had got into his head he had believed he did know, was if a fresh Cox's Pippin was really less to his taste than a juicy James Grieve – he'd never tried the former so how could he possibly know if he'd like one?

Russ was now on the floor, on his tummy, legs idly waving in the air as he concentrated on a cartoon on the telly, so Jack had plenty of time to contemplate and analyse his thoughts.

The waving legs were a bit of a distraction, being as they were boy legs, and even if they were still too-young boy legs they were, undeniably, boy legs, and though Jack had never been greatly stimulated by boy legs from ankle to knee, above the knee he found boy legs to be objects both of beauty and desire, possibly because of what could be found between boy legs, at the very top of boy legs, as well as for the boy legs themselves.

Although Jack devoutly wished that Russ was thirteen and not a mere ten, he was forced to admit that Russ did have rather nice legs, real legs and not the thin sticks that one normally associated with boys of a mere ten, and it was fortunate, Jack allowed himself an internal smile at the thought, it was just as well that Russ was only ten and not thirteen, because the boxers he was wearing were not of the almost knee-length variety and may have presented some concealment shortcomings if he had been thirteen. Certainly, they were of a length that, had the wearer been thirteen, Jack would have slipped a hand up inside them and not had very far to slip it.

With a start, Jack realised that his mind had wandered up between the café-au-lait legs and was now thinking about what lay up there between them; was it just possible that a boy of ten could have anything of interest there? And even if he did, had he any idea what it was ultimately for? Or was it still just a tiny hose to drain piss from his insides?

When, Jack now tried to remember, did his stop being just a tiny hose and become a toy to play with? Try as he did, Jack could not recall the precise time or age when he ceased to have a willy and found he had a cock, but he did remember very clearly that he had been just eleven when he'd first played cock games with other boys and one of those boys had been younger than him!

Was it possible that Russ, at ten, had a cock and not a willy?

Possibly, Jack had to self-confess, he may be just a bit ageist, but cockist he was not. Well, a bit because cock, for Jack, had to be complete, but certainly he wasn't sizeist. Big or small, thick or thin, as long as it had a foreskin and belonged to a boy in his early to mid-teens, it was good enough for Jack.

Russ hadn't yet made it to his early teens so at the most he'd have no more than a finger length between his legs. Jack inspected his hand, studied his fingers and decided that, even if Russ only had as much as Jack's little finger, it was enough to have a go at sucking, and, essentially, it would be utterly smooth and hairless and Jack was a dedicated hairist, especially when it came to balls; hairy balls were not a good suck!

The same applied to crack and hole; Jack loved to eat out a smooth crack and hole, but no way would he get his mouth near a hairy one. Russ would be wonderfully smooth there, and perhaps, just perhaps, ten-year-old hole might just be worth eating.

"Jack," Russ piped without taking his eyes from the cartoons on the telly, "There isn't a Mrs Jack, is there. Why not?"

Jack was ripped from his fantasy about succulent ten-year-old boy bum to the reality of having to answer awkward ten-year-old questions.

"No, there isn't a Mrs Jack," he said and hoped Russ would leave it at that.

"Why not? Don't you want one?" Russ waved his legs a bit and asked more, "Do you just do married people things without getting married, like Mummy did?"

"Well, er, no, not exactly," Jack spluttered, wondering just how much ten-year-old Russ knew about `married people things'.

"Spose you must be gay, then," Russ declared knowledgably, "You have a boyfriend?"

"No, I do not have a boyfriend," Jack said in a tone of voice that he thought declared plainly that was the end of this particular conversation.

"Yes you do," Russ chirped with all the triumphant authority of a ten-year-old scoring a point over an adult, "I'm a boy and we're friends, so I'm your boyfriend."

Russ returned to cartoon watching and Jack breathed a sigh of relief, relief that was short-lived.

"For this week, anyway," Russ told the telly screen, leaving Jack to wonder what was coming next.

Russ knew he was in a new and rather exciting situation; he didn't know what exactly was exciting about it or why it was exciting, but it just was and he knew it had something to do with him wearing only his boxers. He did that at home and it was never at all exciting, so why was it exciting now? And Jack had been very abrupt when he asked if he had a boyfriend, like it was something he didn't want to talk about, which, of course, made Russ want to know more.

"I don't really know what being gay is," Russ said in his most innocent ten-year-old voice – and ten year olds are world champions at appearing innocent when it suits them – "And Mummy said I could ask you all sorts of things if I wanted, things I might want to ask my dad if he lived with us, but he doesn't so I can't."

"Did she?" Jack croaked.

"We get told at school about something called `stranger danger' and about men who want to touch us improptly, but the teacher never says what he means by that, just that if someone does we have to tell our parents or a teacher or a policeman," Russ gloried in the embarrassment he knew he was causing Jack and wondered if he'd gone all red like their teacher did when he was asked for details.

"The word is `inappropriately'," Jack sought refuge in correcting the boy's vocabulary.

"Yes, that's it," Russ told the cartoon on the telly, and asked it what the word meant.

"Well, er, it means touching you where you're not supposed to be touched," Jack picked up the spade to dig his own grave.

"Where's that? And why am I not supposed to be touched there?" Russ showed Jack where to start digging.

"I'm sure you know that," Jack tied not to dig, and failed.

"I don't," Russ lied with convincing innocence, "I wouldn't ask if I did, would I?" Russ knew the general area under discussion, but he didn't yet understand why that area was considered so importantly naughty. He had some vague ideas but he'd reached the age where vague was not sufficient; he wanted details. "Tell me, please, Jack?" he pleaded and turned at last from the telly he had only been appearing to be watching and fixed poor Jack with a wide, beaming, innocent smile.

It was obvious to Russ that Jack needed some help, so Russ helped him.

`It's something to do with my cock, isn't it?" he said sweetly, and Jack had no option now but to begin digging.

"I know that's a naughty word and the proper name sounds something like pencil, but we all call it cock at school. Sometimes it's prick, though mostly it's cock."

Russ's skilful use of innocence had Jack starting on digging the hole where his ageism would be buried; he ought to have remembered that innocence and ten-year-old boys are not compatible, they hadn't been compatible when he was that age and they weren't more than thirty years later. Inexperienced yes, innocent no.

"It's not a willy, then?" Jack couldn't help himself, he had to smile and dig.

"No, silly," Russ giggled, "We don't call it that anymore. That's a little boy word."

"The proper name is `penis'," Jack worked on the hole he was digging, "But I agree, cock sounds better."

"Oh, good," Russ cheeped, "It's going to be fun if I'm allowed to use naughty words. Mum said I'd have fun being here and learn lots of new things. So, why aren't I supposed to let someone touch me there?"

"Don't they teach you about sex at school?" Jack was sure sex education started in Primary Schools.

"Only boring stuff like telling us the names of things and we mustn't take sweets from strange men or get in their cars. They don't tell us what we want to know. You will, though, won't you, Jack? You'll tell me everything."

Jack did. Not all at once; he still clung to some of his ageist principles even as he dug, but almost naked Russ was putting those principles under considerable strain just by being a boy, super fit and almost naked.

Jack was of the opinion that some boys were just born to suck cock; you only had to look at a boy to know he'd open his mouth for cock. You didn't have to fancy him and it probably wouldn't be your cock he sucked, but he would suck cock because sucking cock was written in his stars and all over his face.

Russ was only ten and Jack wasn't used to reading the stars of boys of that age, but he was getting the growing feeling that when Russ was thirteen his mouth would be wide open and there wouldn't be a cock on the planet that wouldn't want those delicious, full lips wrapped around it and Jack's cock would be first in the queue.

Russ truly didn't know anything about sex, but he did know he wanted to find out. It wasn't that his hormones had begun their frantic surges and dances in his young body; he hadn't reached adolescence, he was just curious. He hadn't even watched any porn yet so he really didn't know what people did with and to other people; all he knew was that it had something to do with his cock and he wasn't supposed to let anyone feel it, which did seem both odd and silly because he felt it quite a bit himself and it did feel really very nice when he felt it and rubbed it up and down.

"It feels nice when I rub it," he said with genuine curiosity, "So is it that it doesn't feel nice if someone else rubs it for me? That I won't like it if someone does?"

Jack couldn't lie; Bianca, he knew, would never forgive him if he did, so he just gave a big, defeated sigh and told the truth.

"It's more that you'll like it a lot more," he said, "And grown-ups believe that you shouldn't like it."

"Oh," Russ nodded; that was something he did understand. Adults were always telling boys they mustn't do things they liked doing; everything from trying to hit a cat with a shot from a catapult to drinking too many fizzy drinks, so it was no surprise they would try to stop a boy from having a little bit of fun with his cock. It wasn't fair, though, like, whose cock was it anyway?

"Do you think I'd like it, Jack?" Russ asked.

"I don't know," Jack said honestly, "I suspect that you might, but I can't say you would because, well, it's your cock, isn't it, not mine."

Russ was thrilled; a grown-up had given him an honest answer! His mum was right, he would enjoy staying with Jack for a bit. Jack was nice, he liked Jack and he really could ask Jack anything and Jack didn't tell him to shut up.

It was more pre-pubescent boy instinct than any deliberate planning that gave Russ the idea that he'd learn a lot more if he wasn't lying on the floor but sitting cuddled up on Jack's lap instead, so he moved himself to share the armchair Jack was sitting in, which meant that Jack had to make room for him and the only way he could do that was by getting his left arm out of the way, and if he wasn't going to look silly by holding that arm up in the air he had to put it round Russ's shoulder.

Russ had snuggled into his mum and been cuddled many times, but this was different, very different!

Jack wasn't his mum for a start, and Jack was a man for a second, and though Russ had no idea why it should feel so different being cuddled by a man than by his mum, it did and Russ liked it that it did.

Perhaps fortunately for the few remaining ageist principles that Jack was still clinging on to, an old Batman film was just starting on the telly, and Russ switched his interest away from his cock to the telly once more.

 

Sometime around mid-afternoon Russ suddenly remembered how nice it had been when he sat on Jack's lap and got cuddled, and because he was ten he didn't think it was necessary to seek permission to reinstate himself there and unwittingly put more strain on Jack's ageist determination and this time unwittingly test it to destruction.

Russ wriggled himself comfortable and Jack helped by putting an arm round his shoulder again, which felt nice, and helped even more this time by putting his other hand on Russ's leg, which wasn't really necessary as his leg wasn't going to slip off from where it was, but felt nice as well and Russ gave Jack a little grin to show he appreciated Jack's help.

"Is this what you do when you're being gay with a boy?" Russ innocently asked. It was genuinely innocent because Russ had been honest when he'd said he knew nothing about what gay people did, and he really did think it was all about men touching boys where they weren't supposed to touch them.

Jack gulped as reality struck him between the eyes; he had a boy on his lap, a boy wearing only a pair of rather brief boxers and he had one hand on that boy's shoulder and the other hand on his leg, not far below where boxers ended. It almost didn't matter that the boy was only ten, it was a boy and Jack's cock had begun to realise that it was in close proximity to an almost naked boy.

"Sort of," Jack mumbled.

"Shouldn't you be giving me a sweet, then?" Russ giggled naughtily, flirting with a man for the very first time, though still innocently flirting.

"Do you want a sweet?" Jack said because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Russ giggled again; it wasn't just nice sitting on Jack with Jack's hands on him, it was naughty nice and that, of course, made it nicer.

"I might," a boy instinct made those words come out of his mouth.

"Mustn't take sweets from strangers," Jack found he was encouraging the boy to flirt more.

"But you're not a stranger," Russ cheeped, "And I want to know all about what you do with a boy when you're being gay with one so I'll know whether to take a sweet if a stranger offers me one or not."

Jack could feel the rope that bound him to his ageism parting strand by strand.

"Do you just rub his cock?" Russ picked up a knife and began sawing at the last remaining strands of Jack's rope, "Is it nicer to rub a boy's cock that it is to rub your own?"

"Yes," Jack croaked.

"And does the boy rub your cock as well?"

"Yes."

"Ooohh, that's really naughty," Russ chirped with delight, "I think I might like to be given a sweet," and, realising just how naughty he'd been, he hid his face on Jack's chest.

"It's alright for me to rub my cock, isn't it?" Russ was suddenly serious, "Nothing bad happens, does it?"

Jack breathed a sigh of relief, he was on safer ground now; not good, solid firm ground, but safer. Talking to Russ about masturbation was a normal thing for a man to do with a boy of Russ's age, a boy who didn't have a father around to have such a talk with him.

"No, nothing bad," Jack assured the boy, "It doesn't make you go blind or make it drop off. All boys do it."

"It does make me feel funny sometimes," Russ explained, "I get a funny feeling in my tummy and then sort of tingles all over."

Jack dutifully explained orgasms and how the funny feelings were Russ's body trying to make his cock squirt out white stuff that made babies but, because he wasn't old enough yet to make any white stuff he just had the tingles and those tingles would get stronger and stronger as he got a little older and when he was old enough to make white stuff he'd find those tingles were simply amazing.

Jack thought he'd done a good job, satisfying the boy's curiosity, which he had, but he'd encouraged more curiosity as well.

"So," Russ said thoughtfully, "When you do gay things with a boy and he rubs your cock he makes white stuff come out of it?"

"Well, yes," Jack admitted.

"Can I?"

"Can you what?"

"Can I rub it and make the white stuff come out?"

Jack's cock loved the idea of having young, slender fingers on it, what cock wouldn't want super-fit, ten-year-old, café-au-lait  Russ to have a go at it, especially if those fingers were followed by sweet, soft, full Russ lips, but Russ had no idea that mouth should follow hand and if Jack was going to abandon his ageist principles it was going to have to be for more than just a wank.

Why hadn't stupid Bianca let the boy watch some decent educational porn? Let the boy know what he was in for if he accepted a sweet from a stranger instead of asking Jack to provide him with the details? Porn! Porn was the answer! Show the boy some proper porn and then see if he still wanted to wank Jack's cock when he knew what came next!

"Okay," Jack said cunningly, "You want to know what happens when I have a boy to be gay with? Well, watch this first and then, if you still want to make my white stuff shoot, you can."

Russ sighed as Jack used the telly remote to load the pen drive porn that was always in place for him to amuse himself with, an action that only required him to move his hand from Russ's slender thigh for a moment, but his acquiescent sigh turned to an open-mouthed, "WOW!" when the pen drive began his education.

At first Russ couldn't believe what he was seeing as some high quality and extremely illegal Russian porn from the end of the previous century introduced him to the real world of what might happen to a boy who takes a sweet from a stranger.

Of course, Russ didn't see any of the boys actually taking a sweet from a stranger; that must have happened earlier, before the boys took all their clothes off, but they must have been really good sweets because the boys were doing unbelievable things! Some of them were doing those things with other boys and some were doing them with men, and several of the boys looked to be no older than Russ, so obviously, Russ concluded, he must be old enough to do those things as well.

There were things Russ wasn't sure he wanted to do, but most things had to do with cock, though other things often happened later and some of those had nothing to do with cock at all, and seemed very peculiar things to do.

Jack, meanwhile, had been digging out the last spade fulls of his ageism burial pit, and that task finished, he put down his spade and returned his attention to the boy beside him.

The hand on Russ's slender thigh crept higher; he'd had the argument with himself that the boy wasn't old enough, that even if he did get his hand all the way up inside Russ's boxers there'd be nothing of interest to find there, that even if it turned out to be bigger than his little finger it still wouldn't be big enough to be worth sucking and even if it was worth sucking it would be a pointless sexercise as nothing would come out of it for him to taste and swallow. He'd had that argument while he was digging, and he'd lost.

Russ didn't appear to notice Jack's hand slowly creeping higher, sneaking a finger under the leg of his boxers, making little circles on his upper leg, being joined by another finger until the whole hand was inside his boxers, but, because of the way he was sitting, the hand couldn't get to where it wanted to go.

The thumb tried and almost got there, and Russ waited till it tried again before he giggled, "You haven't given me a sweet."

Russ wanted some of what he'd been watching on the telly; he wasn't sure how much of it he wanted but he definitely wanted to be touched where he shouldn't be touched and to do some of that touching to Jack. Idle curiosity had become urgent curiosity.

"Later," Jack grunted, and knowing that he couldn't get at whatever Russ had to get at with subtle movements of hand and fingers, Jack leapt into the pit he'd dug for his ageist principles and forced his hand across to its target.

It wasn't the best way of getting there, but the restricting boxers made any other way impossible and Jack was past caring about subtlety; Russ was a boy, too young for sure, but he was still a boy and boys have cocks and Jack was addicted to cock of boy.

"Oooohhh," Russ gasped in both surprise and delight when he was felt for the first time; surprise because his cock was in Jack's hand and delight because he instantly discovered that he liked it being there.

"Is this the naughty touching I mustn't let you do?" he asked, wriggling a bit so Jack could get a better feel, "Why is it supposed to be so naughty? It feels nice."

"It's only naughty if it doesn't feel nice," Jack said, "But other people think it's naughty so they mustn't know about it."

"That's silly," Russ declared emphatically, "But don't you want me to take my boxers off? None of the boys on the telly have kept theirs on."

Jack did want Russ to get his boxers off; apart from it being his firm belief that boys (and that now included ten-year-old boys like Russ) look, and generally behave, best when naked, his hand had encountered more than he'd anticipated and he required visual confirmation. Jack had expected no more than a little finger but what he felt seemed more middle finger size, nothing of teenage dimensions, but not at all bad for a boy of ten.

Not only that, it seemed, from what he could tell from his fingers, to have more than a basic helping of foreskin, and in Jack's opinion, the more the foreskin the more the enjoyment.

Russ had no intentions of allowing Jack to have his naughty touches for free, no matter how nice those naughty touches felt, and they did feel very nice indeed. Jack had made a promise and Russ had every intention of making Jack keep his promise.

"But," Russ stated before he lost his boxers, "You promised I could make your white stuff come out if I watched the telly first, and I can't do that if you've got all your clothes on, can I?" The array of cocks of various ages that had been paraded in front of his eyes on the telly had given Russ more than a curious desire to wank Jack, it had given him a very definite desire to see what it was he would be wanking.

"It's only fair," Russ insisted, "The men on the telly didn't have any clothes on."

"You are a very naughty boy," Jack smiled in defeat, or was it victory? He wasn't quite sure.

"And you're a very naughty man," Russ giggled delightedly, "Because you're doing naughty touching, and you haven't even given me a sweet."

"Do you want a sweet?"

"No. I want to make your white stuff come out."

"And I want to do more naughty touching."

"Can if you let me make your white stuff come out."

"Lots of naughty touching?"

Russ thought about that for a moment or two as he was being naughtily touched. "Some of the things on the telly were more naughty than others," he floated an idea.

"Much more naughty," Jack agreed, "I suppose it all depends on how naughty the boy wants to be."

"I suppose," Russ wondered how naughty he might dare to be. Being naughty touched was really very nice, so would being more naughty be even nicer?

"How naughty do you think you'd like to be?" Jack sensed an opportunity to shove his ageism into the hole he'd dug for it.

"Not sure," Russ pondered, "The boys seemed to like being very, very naughty."

"I think you rather like being naughty," Jack smiled encouragingly, trying to ease Russ close to the edge of his hole.

Russ nodded, "I do so far," he said, "I like you holding me all close and touching me, so I suppose I might like some of the other things as well."

"Well," Jack took hold of Russ's hand and led him right up to the edge of the pit, "If I take my clothes off, perhaps we could find out if you do like any of those naughty things before you make my white stuff spurt."

"Okay," Russ agreed, "Some of them seem really silly, though." He gave a sudden ten-year-old snigger, "Like having a cock in your mouth."

"That," Jack announced with conviction, "Is one of the nicest of all the naughty things."

"Is it?" Russ said with surprise, "Even nicer than being naughty touched?"

"Much nicer," Jack confirmed.

"Oh. We can do that, then, if you want."

 

Russ wriggled and squirmed, panted, moaned and gasped as Jack expertly rimmed and tongued him. Jack could make his tongue go right inside him and it was just the best thing ever, so naughty as to be beyond being just naughty.

Mind you, everything had been wonderfully naughty ever since Russ had taken his boxers off three days ago, and never put them on again since. He had no idea of how many time Jack had given him the tingles, it must be hundreds by now, he thought, and every time he was given the tingles he wanted it again, and Jack was really nice because he never got fed up with doing it for him and even gave him the tingles as many as five or six times in a row, without stopping, until Russ couldn't manage anymore without having a rest because his cock got really sensitive when it was made to have the tingles as many times as five in a row.

The ones Russ liked best of all were the ones Jack gave him when he had fingers up his bum where his tongue was now and he was sucking his cock at the same time; they were brilliant! Jack could get three fingers in him at the same time now, and he didn't just suck his cock, he somehow managed to get all his cock and his balls in his mouth at the same time, and how he did that Russ had no idea.

He couldn't manage to get more than just the top bit of Jack's cock in his mouth when he sucked Jack; he had to do Jack's balls separately and one at a time, though Jack seemed happy enough with that and always spurted his stuff now when Russ sucked him.

That had been a bit weird the first time, having Jack spurt in his mouth, but even though it had been weird, he'd been a good naughty boy and swallowed it down and Jack had been really pleased with him because he had and told him what a wonderful naughty boy he was, and Russ liked being told that and cuddled especially closely.

Now he swallowed every time and sort of liked it; it was still a strange taste, but not a nasty strange and he liked it lots when he didn't swallow it all and Jack kissed him, proper open-mouth kissed him (which he'd thought a really silly thing to do until he did it) and they shared some of Jack's white stuff while they kissed.

He knew there was still one more naughty thing to come, the naughtiest of them all, and that was why Jack put fingers in his bum, so he could get him ready to be fucked. His hole, Jack had told him, had to get used to having something up there so it wouldn't hurt too much when he was fucked for the first time; Jack was really nice like that, always told Russ why he did things and trying to make sure it was nice for Russ so Russ would enjoy stuff and want to do it again.

Jack's ageism had died three days ago and the pit that had been dug for it was filled in now, completely covered over, unlike Jack, who was as naked as the boy he was enjoying. And Jack was enjoying ten-year-old, café-au-lait Russ; the boy tasted as delicious as he looked.

Jack's only regret was the boy's cock; not because it was only three-and-three-eighths inches long and three-and-a-quarter in circumference, but because it couldn't spunk. Jack loved boy spunk – he often fantasised about being some long-ago emperor with hundreds of slave boys and eating nothing but slave-boy spunk – but, if he was honest, Russ's non-spunking cock did have its compensations. It was very easy to suck for a start, he could give the boy dry one after dry one and not have his mouth the least bit tired, and he could get everything in, balls and all, with no problem, and it did have the most wonderful foreskin.

Then there was the advantage that orgasms didn't slow Russ down at all; he squealed and squirmed his way through a dry one, panted for a few seconds and then was ready to start on being given another. Jack, of course, being a lot older than ten, had to limit his orgasms to two or three a day, but as Russ was still able to play with him as long as he didn't insist on having some spunk to eat, and Russ had really developed  a taste for spunk, he managed just fine.

The real difference between Russ and the adolescents that Jack had always indulged in before, was that Russ still had no concept of sex; he wasn't having sex with Jack, he was simply having lots and lots of very naughty fun which meant that he was so easy to seduce. It usually took a bit of effort to get a new thirteen or fourteen to suck him and a lot of hard work to get the boy to swallow, but Russ, having seen it on telly, simply took it for granted that he should do it and just did it and now he loved eating spunk as much as Jack did.

It had been the same with kissing; lots of teenagers are reluctant to kiss properly, not so with Russ. Sure, it had taken a little explaining of how to do it properly, but there'd been no hesitation about giving it a try and Russ's lips had been all they promised to be.

The same with his hole; Russ didn't know why Jack wanted to eat him out but it only needed one flick of the tongue over his tight little rosebud to convert him to understanding he wanted that lots as well, and when Jack explained that, not only was it nice to do, it also was part of getting him ready to take cock up inside him, Russ had simply giggled and told Jack he had to do it lots and he shouldn't take too long getting him ready as they only had a week.

Jack munched on Russ's tight little hole – not as tight now as it had been three days ago – until he got jaw-ache and reached for the lube. One finger slid in with no trouble at all, just a satisfied sigh from Russ as he was pierced, and the second finger went in almost as smoothly.

"Ready for another?" Jack asked.

"Course, silly," Russ chirped and gave a little gasp as the third finger joined the other two inside him.

Jack worked his fingers, carefully stretching the boy and making sure he touched the right bit inside so pre-pubescent Russ had some nice feelings and made the right sort of appreciative noises as his hole was thoughtfully prepared to take cock.

"Aren't I ready yet?" the boy asked, "I really want to be fucked like those boys we watch."

"I think we could try," Jack conceded, just as anxious as Russ was to get his cock where his fingers were, "But you have to promise to say straight away if it hurts lots."

"I will," Russ sighed, "But your fingers don't hurt at all, they just feel nice."

"If my cock doesn't hurt then it'll feel loads better than my fingers do," Jack promised.

"Don't mind if it hurts a bit," Russ offered, "Like your fingers did at first, cos if it's like your fingers it just feels nice now."

That, to Jack, translated as `the boy is ready', and he eased out his fingers and added more lube to Russ's open hole.

It didn't seem possible that the small, café-au-lait, pre-pubescent body could take grown-up adult cock inside it; Jack wasn't huge, but he did have a decent, six-inch, reasonably thick man-cock, and even though it had been thoughtfully tongued and fingered, Russ's hole was still only a ten-year-old hole and a virgin hole as well.

Bianca, though, had been correct in her assertion that boys stretch; they are designed that way. Boys of Russ's age, and probably younger, have been taking man-cock up their bums since Homo first became Erectus and quite possibly even before that, so although visually an entry seemed impossible, that was nothing more than an optical illusion.

Russ's well-worked first sphincter gulped at the seeming enormity of the task ahead, gritted its teeth and did its duty as a good boy sphincter must do, slowly opening and stretching to permit the entry of a cock.

Russ's eyes popped wide as he felt himself being penetrated; he was used to three fingers but fingers went in one at a time, cock goes in complete and that was quite some stretch for his virgin hole to cope with.

It didn't hurt, but it was a surprise and a shade uncomfortable at first, though none of that mattered as it felt wonderfully good and Russ knew it was the naughtiest thing he'd ever done and he really liked being very naughty.

Jack waited patiently - though being patient was the last thing he wanted to do now with the tip of his cock inside Russ – until the boy relaxed as he became used to having a bit of cock in him, and then he knocked gently on the door of the second sphincter and waited for his knock to be answered.

Russ's second gateway hesitated, uncertain if it should open or not until the slow determined pressure of Jack's cock forced it to yield and it collapsed, the suddenness of its collapse and the shock of having three or four inches of cock inside him made Russ yell in surprise.

Russ yelled a bit louder, well, actually a lot louder, when half-a-second or so later he realised that having cock up his bum hurt quite a bit and he hadn't been expecting any hurt. He was a brave boy though, and determined not to cry; the boys on telly hadn't cried when cocks were put in their bums, so Russ scrunched up his eyes and bit his lips and hoped it would stop hurting soon.

"It always hurts a bit the first time," Russ heard Jack saying and tried to believe him, "Soon it will start to feel really nice."

It already felt really nice for Jack, his cock was half-way inside a ten-year-old boy's hot, wet-velvet, tightly gripping tunnel of bliss and Jack desperately wanted to get the rest in and start fucking, but he'd always been a kind, careful and considerate deflowerer of boys and he knew a little wait would result in a better shag than if he rushed things now.

Slowly Russ's insides became accustomed to having cock in them and as they did the realisation that he actually had cock in him dawned on Russ properly. He was being the ultimate naughty boy, he was doing everything he'd been told he must never do and a lot of things that nobody had got round to telling him he mustn't do, he was letting a man do evil, wicked things to him and even if it did still hurt that didn't matter because he had a man's cock up inside his bum!

Jack sensed the time was right and gently and slowly fed the rest of his cock inside until Russ had it all and slowly a wicked smile creased his lovely lips.

"I'm being fucked, aren't I?" he grinned, forgetting all about the hurt in the wonderful wickedness of his naughtiness.

"You are," Jack smiled at him and began to move his cock in Russ's tunnel, slowly but with evil and lascivious intent, determined to convert young Russ to what men so like boys to be and what all boys become if their cherries are thoughtfully and carefully popped.

The more Jack's cock moved inside him the more Russ forgot all about how much it had hurt; something inside him kept getting brushed and hit by the cock as it pushed in and pulled out and whatever it was the feelings were worth all the hurt to start with and it was even better than being given the tingles and Russ had thought that had been the best thing ever until now.

The sheer, immature smallness of the boy he was fucking was a spunking matter in itself and Jack had to fight to control his desire to rabbit the boy and to fuck only with care and consideration, telling himself that harder, faster fucks would come later once Russ realised how much he needed to have cock inside him. For now it was enough to fuck the boy slowly, relishing in the wicked delight of fucking a boy of ten and wondering how he could ever have been so stupid as to not have done it before.

Perhaps Jack was still a bit ageist, but he'd extended his range by three years, and that was pretty good, he thought.

 

Bianca didn't need to be told her son was in a different condition when she collected him that he had been when she deposited him.

"Good job boys can't get pregnant," she smiled, "I told you he'd stretch."

"You did, and he did," Jack confirmed.

"Any chance you'd want to keep him?"

"Love to," Jack grinned, "Why? You want to get rid of him?"

It was just a bit of friendly banter, Jack thought,  Bianca telling him he could keep seeing Russ and fucking him from time to time if he wanted and no problems raised if he did.

"No." Bianca stated firmly, "But you'll need to get a bigger place. We'll need two bedrooms for a start. One for you and Russ and one for me."

Jack just stared, open-mouthed.

"The boy needs his mother," Bianca said calmly, "And it's very clear he now needs his daddy, so best for everyone if we move in together."

"Can we, Jack?" Russ piped excitedly, "You can fuck me every night if we do."

What could Jack do but look for somewhere with two bedrooms? He wouldn't need anything larger, not for nine years at least, not until Russ reached sixteen.

 

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