Diary of a Shota Boy - Part 25

by

Cosmo

Part 25: Homecoming

From the field hospital, the Red Cross arranged to put us both on the next medevac flight out of Verolino. First this was aboard a Chinook helicopter which took us to a muster station and from there we boarded a C130 Hercules for the long haul flight to the USA. I thought it ironic that out of all the agencies that had tried to help us, including VFOR and the UNHCR, it was actually the ICRC that finally rescued us and flew us out of Verolino for good. Although, traveling on a C130 transporter was a hell of an experience. Being a passenger on an aircraft that was designed to carry cargo is not ideal. Those four turboprop engines were deafeningly loud, and the whole thing was vibrating so powerfully that the rattling inside of the aircraft was enough to loosen the teeth in your jaw. And yet, I slept. It was the kind of deep sleep that was brought on not just by sleepiness, but by total physical exhaustion - a kind of curious dead sleep that was characterized by total oblivion, more akin to unconsciousness than sleep. It was more like being in a coma.

The seating inside the cavernous aircraft was a temporary configuration, with netted seats arranged along the sides of the cargo hold. We were assigned two seats near the rear of the aircraft, almost by the cargo ramp, in amongst a rag-tag group of airmen who were being flown home. They looked like combat aircrew, probably having completed their tour of duty, and still in their olive drab flight overalls. They slept continuously all the way through. Indeed, there was little else to do. Ciggy allowed me to sleep on him. That is, he let me stretch out across our two seats so that my head was resting against his chest. He hugged me and let me sleep like that for ages. I was so exhausted, I was only barely aware of the hours passing by, and every now and then I would wake up to the noisy atmosphere of the plane, and check just to make sure he was still there. The first thing I became aware of was Ciggy's body next to me, holding me. He was warm, and strong and substantial. I was only half awake, but I knew he was looking after me and without even fully opening my eyes, I knew I was safe. I felt his arms around me, and it was an embrace of total reassurance. He was watching over me. I was so tired, I felt as though I could sleep for a week, but I allowed myself to lapse back into sleep, safe in the knowledge that he would protect me.

I hardly remember anything about the trip from the airfield. I know that the big lumbering aircraft landed heavily. It bounced at least three times when the wheels hit the runway, jolting us all in our seats. It was early morning as we disembarked, but the heat of the Kansas day was already taking hold, and a wall of humidity immediately enveloped us as we emerged from the relative shade of the aircraft. My exhaustion was apparent as I looked around bleary-eyed, blinded by the sunlight and still somewhat confused and uncoordinated. Luckily, Ciggy gently guided me away from the aircraft and through all the formalities.

At passport control, Ciggy produced two navy blue passports which he clutched possessively to his chest. As we filed towards the uniformed immigration officers at the gate, Ciggy merely turned to me to whisper something conspiratorially.

'If anyone asks, your name is Allie. Okay?'

I nodded. I didn't question it. Ciggy seemed to have everything worked out and I was happy to put myself entirely in his hands. I trusted him. At this moment, I had the utmost confidence in him. He smiled smugly, clutching the little navy blue passports. He had fixed everything. I don't know how, but I was sure glad he had. Minutes later, we were walking through the other side of the gate, being careful not to look too complacent. We just kept right on walking. Ciggy even reached down as we walked away, feeling for my hand, and triumphantly squeezed my little hand in his big, warm palm.

Finally, after a taxi journey, during which I dozed on and off, we arrived in a quiet suburban street, and I found myself standing on the steps of a rather grand house. It had neat shrubs and hedges around it, with a pristine driveway, and a broad paved forecourt leading up to a three car garage.

When the door opened, a slim, well-dressed woman was standing there. She was very beautiful, with immaculate makeup, expertly manicured nails and blond, honey-colored hair that was shiny and carefully coiffed. I knew straight away that she was Ciggy's mom. I knew from the way she looked at Ciggy standing there in the doorway, and she immediately welcomed him with open arms. I remembered that Ciggy had told me that he had not seen his folks for over two years. His mom was so happy to see him that she instantly burst into tears. As they stood in the doorway hugging, saying nothing, I noticed how Ciggy was so much bigger than her. She was a small woman, and she seemed dwarfed by her tall, lean, teenage son. But I knew just from her demeanor, and the way she held him, that this was definitely the woman that had brought this beautiful young man into the world.

They stepped apart, and Ciggy's mom dried her eyes, dabbing her tears with her wrists. Then she smiled benevolently at me as she ushered us inside, still saying nothing, but making it clear that I was welcome in her home. I instantly liked her, and I think she liked me too.

Once inside, Ciggy's mom hung back and allowed us to go through into the back of the house. Ciggy led me through a little lobby which gave way to the family room. The family room was the living area of the house. It was enormous, and gave a real sense of just how big the house really was. It was a vast expanse of deep, rich carpet, furnished with a sprawling corner sofa and a huge flat-screen TV. Over by the wall was a long dining table with eight chairs. The fixtures were well appointed and the room was neat and tidy. A row of French windows at the back of the room looked out onto a paved terrace where there was a lush green yard, and beyond that a swimming pool. Compared to what I had been used to, this was sheer unadulterated opulence. At the back of the room, the carpet gave way to ceramic floor tiles, and beyond that was the kitchen. Ciggy led me into the kitchen where there was a central island and a breakfast bar. The granite counter and worktops were festooned with shiny gadgets and just about every modern appliance you could think of. I could never have imagined living in such luxury.

Then I remember seeing Ciggy's dad for the first time. He was standing on the far side of the kitchen, behind the central island, and I realized he had been watching us ominously as we came through from the family room. He was quite distinguished looking, with a thick head of black hair that was much shorter than Ciggy's, much neater, and graying slightly at the temples. But he was very handsome, and it was easy to see where Ciggy had inherited his looks and those distinctive floppy black curls.

Ciggy stopped hesitantly and approached his dad with trepidation. His dad was not as welcoming as his mom. In fact he was a bit frosty and distant.

'So you're back,' he said.

It was a strange greeting. Not at all what I expected.

Ciggy's father stepped forward, almost as though he was confronting him, his face set in a challenging, distinctly hostile expression.

'You think you can go off and live the high life in Europe and then slink back here whenever you feel like it?'

'Hardly the high life, dad,' Ciggy responded, not at all riled, 'There IS a war in Europe, in case you'd forgotten.'

'So I should just take you back in, like the prodigal son?'

Ciggy laughed. It was a little laugh of derision. I could tell that he and his father had had their differences in the past, and in some ways that might even have been what prompted Ciggy to run away to Europe.

'What's the problem, dad?' Ciggy asked, in a more conciliatory tone, 'I'm here aren't I? I came back.'

'With nothing to show for it but a few battlescars and some mangy street kid,' his father grumbled, alluding to me.

'Hey, I'm no street kid,' I protested.

And I wasn't mangy either for that matter.

'He's my friend, dad,' Ciggy reasoned, looking at me with a loving and affectionate stare, 'You should get to know him. He's a great kid.'

I was standing a little behind Ciggy, not at all sure what to do. His father turned his gaze on me as though it was some kind of effort, like he didn't even want to look at me. His expression was not entirely approving. Then he looked me up and down, sizing me up, and gave me a belittling glare.

'He's no replacement for Allie,' he said, distinctly unimpressed.

Ciggy huffed.

'Is that what you think?' he asked, with a tone of frustration, 'I'm not trying to replace Allie. Allie was one of a kind.'

Then Ciggy took a deep breath, perhaps struggling to keep his emotions at bay. It was clear that this family were still very much feeling the tragedy of losing a child, and it revealed what was truly at the heart of this little exchange.

Ciggy looked earnestly at his father.

'I miss him too, y'know dad,' he said.

'Do you?' his father questioned, 'You lost a brother, but I lost a son.'

'And I don't pretend to know what that's like,' Ciggy reasoned, 'but Allie's gone dad. Allie's dead. There'll never be another. It's time we moved on.'

Then Ciggy stepped over to me and stood behind me, wrapping his strong arms around my shoulders as if to demonstrate our solidarity.

'Let me tell you something dad. Over the past few months, I've been to hell and back. Yeah, it was my choice, and yeah I probably got everything I deserved. But I've seen things you couldn't even imagine. I've seen terrible cruelty and I've seen extraordinary kindness, and there were times I thought I might not make it. But through all that unspeakable horror, only one thing kept me going. It was this lil guy.'

And Ciggy hugged my head, laying his cheek against the top of my dirty-blond mop.

'I love him dad. I want to be with him. He is my life now.'

And as his words trailed off, the sheer profundity of what he had just said struck me. I think it struck his father too, for he seemed to mellow a little. He took a deep breath and relaxed his stance and looked at me again.

'You always did fall for the pretty ones,' he said, indicating to me that even his father was aware of Ciggy's predilections.

For me, it was at least a compliment of sorts.

'So we can stay?' Ciggy asked, with an appealing grin.

His father relented.

'Of course,' he said, 'I've already lost one son. I couldn't stand to lose another.'

At this point, Ciggy stepped forward and hugged his dad. It was not as loving and affectionate as when he hugged his mom, but it was acceptance nevertheless. Then they slapped each other on the back and stepped apart. But his father still looked unconvinced.

'So what now? I just let you use my house like a truckstop?'

Ciggy dug deep into the hip pockets of his camouflage tunic and fished out a large fistful of greenbacks.

'Here,' he said, thrusting the crumpled buckwads at his father, 'Five years rent. That do ya?'

He stuffed the crumpled notes into his father's hands and curtly turned to walk away, leaving his father incredulous at how much money was there.

'I didn't mean...' his father started to say.

'It's okay dad,' said Ciggy, 'Keep it. You deserve it.'

His father smiled, his frostiness ameliorated by Ciggy's gesture, and he seemed to be shaking his head.

'See dad, crime DOES pay,' said Ciggy sarcastically, as he ascended the stairs.

His father laughed jovially, and I could tell it was an affectionate, forgiving little laugh. At this point, I knew that the rift between Ciggy and his dad was starting to be repaired, and their rapprochement was an indication that at least they were reconciled to putting their differences behind them.

I followed Ciggy up the stairs, smiling smugly.

Up in Ciggy's room, we found ourselves alone at last. The door was firmly shut against the outside world, and we were finally at the end of our odyssey. The buzz of the noisy aircraft was still ringing in our ears, and we were tired and fatigued from the journey. I looked around. It was a nice room - neat, clean, modern and spacious. The walls were painted in electric blue, and Ciggy's personal paraphernalia adorned the shelves and walls. There was a bookcase by the door with books and other knick-knacks, like a catchers mitt and a die-cast model car - a 1950's Ford Thunderbird, I think. There was a movie poster on the wall and an acoustic guitar propped up against the closet. It was all confirmation and a reminder that Ciggy was once the all-American boy. It also emphasized the fact that there was still so much I didn't know about him. And yet, all this was now almost an anachronism, an allusion to the past. Ciggy had moved on now and left his former life behind. He was no longer that boy. He had ventured out into the world, now returning as a young adult. He had been to war and had been wounded. He had grown up. He was a man now.

Then I saw Ciggy's big bed, which seemed to take up almost the entire length of the far wall, above which was a low window with a louvered blind. I noticed straight away that it was possible to lie in bed and look out of the window, down onto the street. It was a lush, green, tree-lined street, with wide, grassy sidewalks, and when the wind blew through the leafy boughs of the trees, it was possible to make out the well-kept residences on the opposite side of the street, some of which had three storeys.

Standing in the middle of the room, I turned and looked at Ciggy. Ciggy hung back by the door and let me explore the room, watching me with a smirk of curiosity on his lips. There was a lot I wanted to touch and examine, but the accoutrements of this room could wait. There was something else I wanted to do first.

I stripped hurriedly, impetuously jettisoning the trappings of my clothes and shedding them like they were some cumbersome accessory. Ciggy watched. I wanted to get naked and hard for him. I wanted to be free to show him my body, which I knew he loved. I wanted him to sex me up and use me. I wanted to feel him inside me, rooting my little cunt, stabbing his big teen fuckstick deep into my boyhole.

I was already hard as I tossed all my clothes onto the floor recklessly, and threw my naked little body right into the middle of his big bed. It was a deep, springy one, the type of mattress which you sank into as though it was going to swallow you up. I bounced back up, and stretched out, putting my hands behind my head, totally relaxed.

'I can't believe I'm actually here,' I said contentedly, staring up at the ceiling fan.

Ciggy came over and sat on the edge of the bed, one foot on the floor, and looked over my naked body, smiling in appreciation. I enjoyed the way his warm brown eyes roved over my nakedness as I was stretched out before him.

'Happy?' he asked.

I smiled and nodded. I was on a high - seeing all this for the first time, now invited into Ciggy's personal space - his house, his room, his bed... the house he grew up in, the room he inhabited as a young boy, probably the very bed where he used to fuck his little brother Allie. It was all so exciting for me.

I squirmed about coquettishly on the bed, and openly fondled my hardened little dick. Ciggy's eyes were drawn to my crotch. I was offering myself to him, and he knew it. Little Cloud was pointing straight up, leaning slightly towards my tummy, sticking out from my crotch like a little hook. My cantilevered little fuckstick was inordinately hard, aching to be played with. But Ciggy was determined to make me wait.

'You're such a lil fuckboy,' he said, and I assumed he meant it as a compliment, 'You're just too good to be true lil man. You're just like Allie. He was hot and horny, just like you.'

I stared back at Ciggy with a frown, not really bothered by the comparison, but surprised at the unexpected mention of Allie.

'Sorry,' he said, a little downbeat, 'I didn't mean to compare.'

'That's okay. Go on, tell me about Allie,' I said, genuinely interested.

'You really wanna know?' Ciggy asked, looking for signs of interest in my expression.

I nodded encouragingly. That elicited a smile from Ciggy, like he relished the opportunity to talk openly about Allie.

'Oh Cloud...' he said, happy that he had my permission to talk freely, and he finally made himself comfortable on the bed next to me.

I scooted over to make room for him, and he looked across at me, reclined on the pillow next to him.

'He was the nicest kid. Bright, cheerful, precocious...'

He turned his gaze away and focused down on the comforter.

'He was a beautiful boy too,' he went on, becoming slightly more circumspect, 'cute as a button.'

Ciggy looked back up at me.

'You're just like him in many ways.'

Then he sat up, indicating that he wanted to make a more serious point, and he looked deep into my eyes.

'I still miss him y'know.'

And as he said that, I could see his eyes glaze over with tears. Then I knew that the memory of his little brother was still very poignant for him, and he was struggling to keep his emotions at bay. I rose up, leaned over, and hugged him, comforting him in the same way as he had comforted me, feeling that even my little body against his was of some comfort, and my small hands rubbing his back was some consolation to this older boy who, though he was so much more mature than me, had shown himself to be equally as vulnerable.

As we sat there on the bed, hugging, Little Cloud was painfully stiff in my crotch. He had been virtually from the moment we walked in. And in all the time we talked, my little dick was as hard as a nail, poking upwards, hot and stiff and begging to be smacked about. I could almost see the little droplets of precum seeping from my little cockhead, creating a shiny little blob on the tip. I don't know how Ciggy resisted the temptation to attack my little dick. I wanted him to. I wanted him to jack my stiffie in his big fist, or to swallow my hardness in his warm, wet suctioning lips and make it spunk right into his handsome head, just like he had on our picnic that glorious afternoon in the Verolino countryside the day after we first met.

I was happy when Ciggy finally stretched out next to me on the bed and we started kissing. He was still fully clothed, which was unusually erotic. His clothed body against my naked frame made me feel very small and vulnerable. He threw himself over me and kissed me all over, even giving a few token sucks on my little stiffie. As he gorged on my lips, he played with my dickie, squeezing it a little in his big fist, and pulling it this way and that. I thrust my eager, horny little body against him, humping my hips into him, grazing the sensitive skin of my little cockhead and snagging my tender foreskin against the roughness of his clothing.

Eventually, when we both could not stand the anticipation any longer, Ciggy finally started taking his clothes off. I don't know why he waited - he must have been anxious to sex me up. I could see his dick, long and hard in his pants, begging to be released. It was worth the wait. If Ciggy's intention was to ratchet up the anticipation, it worked. He slipped off his shirt, revealing that gorgeous teen body for me, and I saw how smooth and tanned his skin was. His body had a very inviting biscuity tint to it. He was very toned, tight and muscular, and when he bent over to slip down his pants, I saw the beautiful way his lean, compact torso curved ever so lithely. When he took his pants down, his dick was already hard. He was primed for sex - cocked and ready to fire, already stiff with arousal at what was in the offing. It was the first time I had seen his dick hard. When he first revealed that beautiful dick to me, I almost gasped in awe. It was magnificent. Long, thick, beautifully cut, with a proud, pink conical head, and a gentle curvature to it that made the piss-slit point to the ceiling. It was technically perfect - proud and tumescent and threateningly large - oh fuck I wanted it in me. It was so beautiful I wanted to lick it, I wanted to taste it, I wanted to take a bite out of it; I wanted to shove it so far down my throat I wanted to swallow it whole - I wanted to take it deep into my little cunt, I wanted to feel it pounding my gland, fucking the spunk out of me, to fuck me till I was dizzy, rooting painfully into my most intimate place, sheathing its girth in my tight little snatch and pumping its steaming seed deep into my little body - oh fuck I wanted that cock to do stuff to me real bad.

When Ciggy was ready, he pushed me down onto the bed quite roughly, and I knew he meant business. He had a solemn, resolute expression, fixed in concentration. He knelt between my opened legs and positioned himself between my knees. He said nothing, but then words were not needed. I raised my knees, and what I liked was that Ciggy automatically put his big hands behind my knees, folding my legs up against my chest. He scooted closer, settled himself on top of me, and planted an arm either side of me, with my knees hooked around his elbows, pinning my legs back so he could fuck me. I loved that. His head was somewhere between my ankles, as my feet pointed up in the air, and he raised his butt to enter me. He looked into my eyes just on the threshold of that magic moment, both of us flush with arousal, and held his big dick in place, poised for penetration. I looked back up at him, hyperventilating with anticipation.

'I've waited so long for this,' he whispered, his eyes narrowing wistfully.

'Me too,' I whispered, still pinned beneath him.

'Ready?' he asked.

I nodded, yielding completely to him. My hands gripped his strong biceps, squeezing the powerful arms that were at that moment holding me captive.

'Please go easy on me,' I begged plaintively, looking up at him, 'I'm still a little sore.'

He nodded assuredly, with an expression that told me he would try not to hurt me.

'Now fuck me,' I said, tersely.

He pressed his stiff teen dick against my hole, still pinning my thighs against my chest, and glared at me, gripped by the powerful erotic desire that had been denied him for so long. But his hesitation was sweet torture.

'Please fuck it into me,' I pleaded, just managing to get my words out between short, sharp breaths.

Then he did. He fucked it into me so hard, he made me cry out. It was a childish vocalization of shock and pain, which I tried to stifle. I always loved the shock of that initial, penetrative thrust which prized my little ring open. This time it hurt more than ever, but the pleasure masked the pain of my battered little chute. As his teen fuckstick violently invaded my body, I screwed up my face and felt the sting of tears in my eyes. I could feel the tears brimming over and trailing down my temples. But I don't know if they were tears of pain, tears of relief, tears of sexual expression, or simply unrestrained joy. At last, Ciggy was inside me.

The instant Ciggy first entered me was a seminal moment and one which I shall remember for the rest of my life. I had dreamed of this moment. I had wished for it. I had even pulled my little todger fantasizing about it, cumming hard at the prospect of Ciggy's dick inside me. He had too. He had said so. And so, when he forced that beautiful dick into my little fuckbox, finally connecting us sexually, it was like a spiritual as well as a physical coupling. It felt right. As though we were a perfect fit. Like we were meant to be together. What confirmed it for me was that we both cummed almost instantly, and in unison. No sooner had his big teen dick bottomed out in my little cunt, he groaned loudly and pumped an enormous load into me. He hadn't even taken a single stroke. He merely sank it into me, and cummed straight away. I guess the anticipation of this moment, the build up, had been so intense, that the moment he felt his dick swallowed right to the root in the tight warmth of my little snatch, it overwhelmed him. And that dick let go with a force that I could feel deep inside the walls of my chute, filling my little cunt and bathing it in the scalding heat of his fuckjuice. As soon as I felt his dick let go, and the thickness of his teenage rod pressing hard against my gland, something in my brain snapped and my little cock let go in sympathy. I cummed hard and exhaled sharply, feeling as though all the air had been knocked out of my lungs. I was overwhelmed by the sweet ecstasy of the orgasm Ciggy initiated. My whole pubic region pulsed violently around his cock, my own little dick spitting out a gooey bullet of cloudy kidspunk two or three inches into the air which landed on my chest. The rest of my meager little fuckwad fittingly ran down my shaft and around my hairless balls and pooled around my star, even with Ciggy's dick buried in it to the hilt. Thus, my kidspunk anointed his big teen dick with an introductory sperming, whilst his teen fuckload was injected emphatically and irredeemably deep inside my hot little snatch.

Still on top of me, Ciggy paused. He raised his head and looked down into my eyes as I was pinned beneath him, his big dick still firmly embedded in my little boycunt.

'You're mine now,' he said.

I remember thinking what an apt remark that was. We were finally united, our bodies now irretrievably connected, with his essence inside me, and we kissed.

What amazed me was that Ciggy didn't pull out. He stayed in me after he had cum, and took a few delicious stabs in and out. His massaging of my gland kept my boydick as hard as an iron pole. Even after such a powerful cum, Little Cloud was fully alert, straining with hardness, inordinately reinforced by the feelings that Ciggy was infusing into my little body. I felt small, weak, powerless, and totally at his mercy. He could do whatever he wanted with me. Feeling his big, proficient dick rooting into my chute sent volts of electricity all the way from my eager little fuckhole, up my spine and into my brain, totally subduing me with sheer pleasure. From that moment, I became his slave. Once he had relieved the initial imperative to blow his big teen load into my butt for the first time, he was able to continue fucking. I had known a few tricks who used that technique. It was a well known ploy for premature ejaculators. If they were likely to cum too quickly, it was a good idea to blow them or jack them off first, to relieve the initial excitement. Cumming a second time usually took longer, and so they were able to enjoy a proper fuck and relish the experience of fucking a hot little shota boy cunt without blowing their load too quickly and without risking the anticlimax of the proceedings culminating too soon.

Ciggy fucked me good. By now he was confident in our union, and he lifted me off the bed, still impaled on the giant plug of his dick. He lifted my small, trembling frame in his strong arms, holding my whole body up, supporting me with his big hands under my butt. I was wrapped around him with my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. He was thrusting up into me, and as he was doing that, holding me close, our bodies enmeshed like that, he was murmuring into my ear, softly.

'You're mine, mine, mine...'

And with each thrust of his pelvis he would say 'Mine, mine...' Fuck, it was so erotic.

He was rapidly heading for another cum, and as he was stabbing his hips into me, his brown eyes widened and he smiled in gratitude and delight, looking straight at me even as he was focused on his big dick thrusting in and out of my sopping little butt, already dripping wet with his first teen spunkload.

'Ah! You're making me cum again!' he uttered breathlessly, as he neared another orgasm.

He sounded as though this was a surprise to him, but paying me the ultimate compliment by acknowledging me, like it was me that was doing this to him, except that it was actually him that was doing it.

He cummed again very quickly, with a minimum of stimulation, it seemed. His body trembled with the violence of his orgasm, so tangible that he made my little body quake in sympathy, and he squeezed my tiny frame against him even as I was still impaled on him. His spunkwad was just as hot and watery as the first one, and just as ample in quantity, drenching my chute once more with his hot teen sperm.

When he had cum twice, he finally unplugged his dick from my hole. Then he lowered me back down and placed me gently on the bed, with my feet jutting out over the edge, and he knelt on the end of the bed looking down at me. He was slightly breathless, but his cock was still hard. It was shiny and wet, his cut cockhead glistening with his own fuckslime. I thought he was going to stop and rest at this point, after all he had just had two very powerful cums in rapid succession. He seemed to pause for a few seconds, and I liked the way he admired me, his dominant gaze taking in the sight of the little boy he had just subjugated, appreciating the youthful form that he had just roughly violated with that threateningly big cock, the young body that had just received his steaming hot teen spunk.

'Geez, that was fantastic lil man,' he murmured.

But instead of lying down on the bed next to me, breaking off our fucking, he pulled me up. He held me close to him, with his arm around the small of my back, suspended from his strong teen body. His expression told me that he wasn't ready to rest just yet. The look in his eyes was full of lust and sexual desire.

'I'm gonna fuck you again,' he announced, emphatically.

I liked the way he emphasized the word 'fuck' like this time he really meant it, as though to imply that up to now he was only toying with me and the real fucking was about to commence. The way he said 'fuck' with such vehemence, made Little Cloud pulse perceptibly, hardening up in anticipation of a good hard pummeling, and it sent a little jolt of delight all through me.

Despite two profoundly powerful orgasms, Ciggy was still inordinately horny and determined to subject my body to his every sexual whim. Apparently he was not yet sated. He wanted more. His still hard dick was at full mast. He took up position, opened my legs, and closed in to fuck me again. His strong, teenage body covered me, and he assaulted my snatch one more time, thrusting his stiff teen dick up into me again as though he was carrying on where he left off. Far from breaking off, he entered into a renewed bout of fucking. It was as though he had found his second wind, throwing himself into it with reinforced energy and vigor.

Ciggy teased me and toyed with my body for hours. He worked me up into such a frenzy that I was inordinately horny. Much more than usual. He took things to a new level, crossing a previously unknown threshold of sexual desire, where the need to fuck, to satisfy the sexual urge was focused only on extracting maximum pleasure out of each other and pushing the boundaries of super-sexual performance to the point where that primal urge became oppressive, obsessive and all-consuming, as though it became - at that moment - more important even than survival itself. He fucked me for a long time. He used me as his own personal fucktoy. He thoroughly wrested every last grain of pleasure out of me, bending my body into shapes of his own choosing, sticking his stiffness hard into every part of me, injecting a hot fuckload into my hole, into my mouth, over my face and chest. He cummed repeatedly, until he had run out of holes to fuck and hairless skin to smother in his copious teen fuckjuice. Tell the truth, he hurt me. He bruised my already abused body and made my already sore muscles ache. But I wanted it. I wanted him to abuse me. I wanted him to hurt me. I let him do whatever he wanted. I was brave for him. I bore the pain and the discomfort and the sheer exhaustion, because I loved him. I loved this boy and all the extreme things he was doing to me, for I had no doubt, in all the many hours I spent being blasted by his cum, or filled by his pulsing teen cock, that this was his expression of the deep affection he had for me. I had been fucked by many men, more than I could ever choose to count. I had been fucked roughly and I had been fucked slowly; I had been fucked cruelly and I had been fucked lovingly. But I had never been fucked the way Ciggy fucked me. No, this was a different level of fucking entirely.

On one occasion, I was on my knees, bent underneath him on the bed, with him fucking me doggy-style, the curvature of his bigger body perfectly matched to my smaller frame underneath him, and he had his big hand splayed on my tummy, holding me in place as his dick savaged my little cunt, and he was breathing heavily into the back of my head.

'Oh yeh!' he would exclaim, 'Feel it with me,' he would whisper.

It was an invitation for me to share the orgasm with him, as though he could synchronize our cums just by vocalizing it. The amazing thing was that it worked. It was as if those words set into motion a launch sequence, a countdown to ignition which made us both cum together, so that he would pump my little butt, and with his other hand, reach around and mechanically jack my little dick, timing it perfectly so that my little orgasm coincided with his. It was as though both my cock and cunt were being assaulted at the same time - my whole pubic region being attacked by him both back and front, like there was no escape from the things he was doing to me. I could feel my dick straining in his big fist at the same time as my little cunt contracted violently around his own spunking cock. Oh fuck, it was fantastic. The best sex ever.

When at last he broke off, if not just to get his breath back, he was kneeling between my opened legs, looking down at me. But I didn't want him to stop. My body needed him.

'Fuck me again,' I implored him, almost distressed at how much I wanted him.

He smiled at that, and stuck his fingers into my little boycunt, as though to compensate for the vacancy created by his recuperating cock. He dug two fingers in as far as he could, hooking his fingers so that they scraped the inside of my already battered little fuckchute, and he made me moan. He seemed to like that. When he withdrew his fingers from my little fuckbox, they were slimy with cum, soiled with the fuckloads he had already injected into my snatch. I already had Ciggy inside me, his thick and sticky essence - the residue of the liquid love he had deposited inside me - an intimate part of him that he gifted to me to demonstrate the extent of his love for me.

'Please fuck me,' I said again.

Ciggy said nothing. He merely positioned me on the pillow and got up on his knees, towering over me threateningly. His big teen dick looked evil and menacing - sticking up proudly, thick and hard, looking like he was about to punish me with it. I grabbed it, desperate for him to use it on me, and curled my little fingers around its scalding girth. He paused and looked down at me plaintively grasping his equipment and he smiled perversely.

That night, Ciggy made love to me in every conceivable position. He was relentless. He fucked me hard for hours, and for so long that I almost lost track of time. He fucked me till I was dizzy with his thrusting, till my body was thoroughly used up by him, consumed by his erotic drive, so thoroughly toyed with like I was his own personal object of amusement, there to take his cock in every conceivable way and to accept his every spunkload wherever he chose to deposit it. He squirted in every hole, cumming repeatedly, fucking me to orgasm again and again. It was incredible. He would pummel me hard, pneumatically driving his big teen dick in and out, inject his hot spunk into me, then turn me over and start again, seemingly wanting to repeat the ecstasy over and over again. This was oppressive, hard, unforgiving sex. We were not making love anymore. We were fucking. We were feeding off each other's bodies, gorging on each other's libidos, desperate to burst our loads into and over each other; him into my tight little cunt and over my pretty face, me into his warm, suctioning mouth.

Ciggy fucked me lying face down on the bed and doggy-style with him behind me. He fucked me on his lap with me astride him, facing him. He fucked me bent over the edge of the bed, and my favorite, on my back with my knees up to my chest and Ciggy flowing above me, his face inches from mine, driving his big teen dick into me from above. On another occasion he fucked me lying on my side. He scooted up behind me and lifted my uppermost leg, hooking his elbow under my knee, and folding my leg up so he could get access to my hole. He was the only guy who ever did that, and I could tell from the ease and familiarity that he did it, that it was a position he had used many times before, maybe when he was fucking Allie. He fucked me so hard and for so long I was almost delirious. He was unstoppable, no doubt determined to make up for lost time. He had certainly not forgotten how to use that weapon of his.

Ciggy filled my little cunt so many times that I lost count, before he finally fell asleep, chewing on a piece of his favorite gum. He had exhausted himself in his pursuit to inject every last drop of his eager teen spunk deep inside me. I laid there, weak and floppy, thoroughly spent, overflowing with his fuckjuice, feeling as though he had filled me to the brim. I laid there just watching him, happy for him and looking on in awe at this beautiful young man, this sexual dynamo that had infused so much pleasure into me. I myself wasn't able to sleep. Funny, it was so quiet that I just couldn't sleep. But that didn't matter. I was just so overawed by my new surroundings that I was happy just to lie next to Ciggy in his big bed, and watch his silent breaths, as his breast was gently rising and falling under the comforter.

Hours later, as the dawn broke, and the birds had just started singing, Ciggy woke up. He had slept well, whereas I had slept only fitfully. And when he opened his eyes, he saw me smiling down at him. He broke into a smile, his moist lips gliding ever so gracefully over his perfect white teeth.

'Hi lil man,' he murmured, and executed a long, slow stretch, just like a cat.

'Hi,' I replied.

'Still up?' he asked.

I looked down very deliberately at my crotch where I had thrown off the covers, and his gaze followed mine. Little Cloud was poking up insistently, eternally hard.

'Yup,' I said, and we both giggled in unison.

He crawled on top of me and we started kissing. He held my head as he went to town on my lips, his fingers digging into my scalp as he held my head there, with my disheveled dirty-blond mop now scrambled untidily over the pillow.

Coming up for air, he raised his head and looked down at me, still lying on top of me, and I could feel his big teen dick was hard again.

'Whadya say we have another piece o' gum and then do it one more time?'

It seemed he was immediately ready to pick up where we left off.

'My butt's sore,' I replied, with a mischievous smirk.

Ciggy planted another kiss on my mouth. It was an affectionate kiss, short and sweet, like a friendly little nip.

'My dick is sore,' he countered, 'But I just love that sweet ass of yours.'

He moved off me and rolled me over onto my stomach.

'I'm so hard for you lil man, you make my cock ache.'

'We'll have to do something about that, won't we?' I giggled, muffled into the pillow.

He climbed on top of me, sitting astride my butt, and I could feel the weight of his substantial teen body pressing my hips into the mattress. Then he leaned over me, and whispered into my ear.

'I'm so into you kid. Geez, I'm so into you I just wanna fill you up with spunk.'

He was really getting the hang of this dirty talk. I was loving it.

'Go ahead,' I said, playfully, egging him on, 'Fill 'er up!'

And with that, he settled himself on top of me, opened his legs and covered my butt. I could feel his heavy blood-engorged dick resting on my butt crack, tickling it tantalizingly, as if giving notice of what he was about to do. I buried my face into the pillow, waiting for his assault. There was a moment of quiet concentration, as though he was contemplating what to do, mustering his reserves, and then suddenly, almost without warning, he quickly thrust his dick into my snatch. He did it with such violence, and yet with such accuracy, that he was inside me in an instant. I barely had time to assimilate what was going on. He breathed deeply, appreciating the exquisite pleasure of burying his dick deep into my boypussy, and it gladdened my heart. I felt truly warm and happy inside because I knew how much he had missed this - the best thing in the world; what all men craved: a hot, tight, willing little shota boy cunt. At last I was able to give that to him. At last he was able to experience that pleasure once again. I was happy that it was me who was able to give that to him. Yes, it was MY little cunt. The best there was. He deserved it.

Once again we lost ourselves in the heady world of sex - that elusive Brigadoon where our fantasies can flourish unimpeded; that fleeting realm of unknown pleasure where the mundane tribulations of everyday life pale into unimportance and where only the pursuit of those carnal pleasures matter; that secret, forbidden place in our hearts and minds where only sex exists. Ciggy set to work on my little body once again. He made me cum continuously. My little dick was in perpetual orgasm. I had cum so many times that there were traces of blood in my kidspunk. In fact, I had no kidspunk left. I was practically dry-cumming. It felt like my well was dry and my little balls were ejaculating traces of blood instead. I remembered what Guus had taught me about seeing blood in your spunk - that it was a sign that you should stop. But the problem was that I couldn't stop. Ciggy was making me cum repeatedly, seemingly at will, like he could control every function of my body, toying with every physiological function for his own amusement, laughing every time I was gripped by that elusive seizure of orgasm, admiring the way my little dick waggled uncontrollably in my crotch as it tried to eject the kidspunk that had long ago run dry. It was starting to hurt, but I needed it. Though it was tinged with pain, the joy of Ciggy's ministrations on my little dick made me a slave to the feelings he induced. I was addicted to him, controlled by the sexual narcotic he infused into my body. Like a dope fiend, I let him carry on toying with me, unable to deny myself this sweet pleasure, drunk on the ecstasy of it all, and willing to submit myself to him until my body was all used up, until he had extracted every last iota of pleasure and abandoned me to die. But what a beautiful death it would have been.

Finally, Ciggy pulled out of me and laid on the bed next to me, breathing so fast it was almost as though he had been running.

'Oh geez Cloud,' he exclaimed, 'No one's ever done that to me before.'

'Done what?' I asked, puzzled.

'Made me cum so much and so hard.'

He rolled towards me and we stared at each other, face to face, on the pillow.

'I've never felt like this before,' he went on, incredulous, 'You really do something to me kid.'

I didn't really know what he meant. But I didn't much care. There would be plenty of time for reflection later. Right now I just wanted to fuck.

'Can we do it doggy-style now?' I asked, mischievously.

Ciggy laughed, like he thought my precocity was cute, and he smiled broadly. I turned towards him and for a change I initiated a kiss. I think he didn't expect that, because up till then it was Ciggy always leading the way. But I wanted to show him that I valued him too, and that sometimes I wanted to reward him with little tokens of affection, as unremarkable as they were.

We decided to break off from our marathon fuckfest to forage in the kitchen for sustenance. Our bodies were still in a state of arousal, flushed and sweaty. But for the moment we entered a hiatus in the proceedings that allowed us to rest, recuperate for a short interval, and take on nourishment, interrupted from our primal rutting by the need to satisfy our thirst and hunger. First, we both stood around the toilet bowl, peeing in unison, and I looked at Ciggy's substantial teen dick as he held it there between his fingers. It was a beautiful dick, even when not erect. I admired the way it was so perfectly cut, with that trim, rounded, pinkish head and such silky texture to the skin which was a slightly darker shade than the rest of him. It was a formidable dick, especially now that I had seen what it was capable of. Dicks were my specialist subject, and I was in awe of beautiful, potent teen dicks like Ciggy's.

Ciggy saw me checking out his shit and he giggled. Aware that I was openly ogling him, he reached over and ruffled my hair tenderly, amused by the look of fascination on my face.

'You're such a lil fuckboy,' he said affectionately.

I was flattered by that. To me, it was the greatest compliment.

After peeing, we both ambled into the kitchen with only one outfit between us - him in only his pants, me in only a shirt. He was naked from the waist up and I was naked from the waist down. What I liked was that I was wearing Ciggy's shirt, which was long and baggy on me, and came all the way down to my thighs, beneath which only my bare legs were visible. But it was a nice shirt, cut from a fine, quality cloth. The nicest thing about it was that it still retained Ciggy's scent. It was a heady, lightly perfumed aroma, infused with inherent maleness, and I loved that I was able to carry his smell around with me.

We went into the kitchen and Ciggy lifted me up onto the counter, his strong arms assisting me as I hopped up, and I settled next to him as he worked. I could feel the cool, hard granite beneath my bare butt. We were at eye level, so I smiled at him because I loved the way he did little things like that for me. As I sat there, with my hands tucked between my bare thighs, he stopped and looked at me very closely for a moment, his warm brown eyes glinting with admiration, and he seemed to smile benevolently. He chuckled.

'Look,' he said, indicating something on my face, 'You missed a bit.'

And he leaned over towards me as I sat there, on that granite counter top, and gently dabbed a fingertip just on the corner of my lips, and showed it to me. It was a little blob of spunk - his spunk - the remnants of our sex games, the unmistakable evidence of our cock-to-mouth antics that had coaxed countless droplets of Ciggy's teen spunk from his heavy, fertile balls, ejected with such force out of his virile teen cock, pelting my young features with his copious fuckjuice, the best part of which I had licked off, which had travelled eagerly down my throat, and was now sitting warmly in my tummy.

'It suits you,' he said admiring me, 'You look good with my jizz on you.'

I chuckled lovingly at his dirty talk.

'Maybe I'll paint your pretty face some more,' he said in jest, 'put some on the other side just to make it symmetrical.'

How I loved his dirty talk, and I quickly sucked the tip of his finger as he held it there, sensing the merest taste of the now cool droplet of his sperm that he had wiped from my cheek. He liked it, and stuck two fingers into my mouth, piercing my puckered lips. It was a cute, loving, suggestive gesture, and I liked the way he stabbed his fingers deep into my mouth, so symptomatic of the way his big teen dick had been buried so deeply, so emphatically into my little boycunt earlier. No part of my body was off limits to him. He could explore every part of me. He could insinuate himself into every little fold and cavity of my physiology. I wanted him to. His fingers invaded my mouth, roving over my teeth and eager little tongue, and I bit down gently on them, hurting him in the same way his big cock had hurt me, eliciting a muted little grimace from him just as he had elicited a squeal of joy and pain earlier when he had punched his teen dick through my willing little sphincter.

Withdrawing his fingers, now slick with my spit, he stepped closer to me, holding my head in his hands, his palms over my ears, and he stared into my eyes at point blank range with a wondrous, mystified expression.

'You're so fuckin' beautiful Cloud Nine,' he said, 'I don't think I'll ever tire of lookin' at that pretty face.'

Then, still holding my head, he kissed me very hard on the mouth, and stepped back to admire me again from a safer distance, pleased with me.

'I love you lil man. I really do.'

I looked up at him, smiling with humility, and flattered that he was able to vocalize his feelings so readily - something which didn't come quite so easily to me.

'I... I think I love you too,' I said hesitantly.

That made him smile, chuffed and vaguely amused by my words.

'You mean you don't know for sure?' he said, teasingly.

I attempted to explain.

'It's just that I never... I mean, I haven't...'

'It's okay lil man,' Ciggy cut in, 'You don't need to justify yourself to me.'

And I could see from the look on his face that there was genuine consideration there. He really wasn't perturbed by my awkwardness and seemed to understand. That was when I knew for sure that it really didn't matter. His love for me was unconditional - it did not depend on whether I loved him or not.

Ciggy then turned to the business in hand, remembering what we had come in here for. He stood in front of this enormous silver refrigerator that had double doors, looking almost as though he was about to step inside. He threw both doors open and the contents of the refrigerator were illuminated by an almost dazzling interior light, revealing a cavernous trove of unimaginable goodies.

'We need energy,' said Ciggy, surveying the multifarious array of tins and jars before him, 'lots of energy.'

Then he grabbed a few tubs and jars and polythene wrapped packets, threw them all down on the counter and started making sandwiches. I watched him, still perched up on the counter, in awe of how domesticated he was, and impressed by his efficiency in the kitchen. Within minutes he handed me a thick, skew-cut sandwich that was crammed full of some jam-like filling which was oozing from the sides. I held it up and looked at it with interest.

'A traditional American delicacy,' he announced, 'peanut butter and jelly.'

I didn't question it. When in Rome, I thought.

Ciggy then stuffed the tubs and jars back in the fridge and tossed the knives into the sink, picking up his sandwich.

'C'mon,' said Ciggy, ushering me towards the door, 'let's go back upstairs and see if you really do love me.'

Already munching on our sandwiches, and clutching cans of chilled soda, we turned, arm in arm, to go up the stairs, passing the open doorway to the living room. I could see Ciggy's father standing there, watching us with a bemused expression, and he opened his mouth to raise an objection, but his wife stopped him. She stepped up behind him and nudged him with her elbow.

'Uh uh,' she chided, as though to indicate he should not voice his thoughts.

Ciggy and I reached the top of the stairs and we stepped into his bedroom, emphatically closing the door behind us. No sooner was the door closed, Ciggy took the spoils from my hands, almost before I could take another bite, and placed my half-eaten sandwich and can of soda on the bookcase by the door. Then he pushed me onto the bed right there and whipped off his pants. He couldn't even wait to get my shirt off. He flipped me over, face down on the bed, hitched up my shirt to expose my butt, and mounted me. Without any preliminaries, he was instantly inside me, quickly burying his stiff teen dick into me one more time. He penetrated me easily. My hole was still slimy from his previous spunkloads. He laid on me, pinioned into the comforter by his weight, and he whispered into my ear as his stiffness rooted deep into my little snatch.

'I love you so much lil man. Your lil tunnel feels so good.'

He needed this. Boy, did he need it. He said nothing more, he just fucked me hard, the bed jiggling rhythmically as he rocked my body beneath him, hammering hard into my little cunt. Outside the door, at the bottom of the stairs, I could hear Ciggy's mom.

'No Jim, leave him be. He's an adult now. He can do whatever he likes. Just trust him, and be grateful that he's home safe and alive.'

Ciggy's father did not reply. That was when I knew that Ciggy was home free and everything was going to be alright.

As Ciggy's beautiful teen body labored away above me, I once again submitted to the wonderful sensations he was inducing into my erogenous little snatch, and I laid beneath him, overwhelmed by the pleasure that he was infusing throughout my little body. I thought about how I came to be here and what had given rise to this perfect moment. Right now, Verolino seemed a million miles away. Like another world. Another lifetime. Catapulted from that hellhole, here we were in Ciggy's parent's house, in his bedroom - the very room he had grown up in before he had gone off to Europe and got tangled up in the war. It was so quiet here. So pleasant. So civilized. The road outside the window was not teeming with trucks and soldiers, but was mostly deserted, except for the odd shiny family sedan gliding serenely by. The streets were not characterized by rubble and shell craters, but grassy verges, well-kept lawns and tall, shady trees. And the air didn't echo to the sound of the distant rumble of artillery or the smattering of machine gun fire, like firecrackers in the distance. Instead there was the sound of children's laughter as they played on the lush green lawns, and the sweetness of birdsong, so random and pointless, and yet one of the nicest sounds there was. Here I was at last. America! This crazy, fascinating country that I had read so much about; this paradoxical, beautiful country with all its flaws and contradictions. America! The land of the free! At last I was here. And as Ciggy was rooting his big teen dick into me, thoroughly pummeling me into the mattress, I was lying there giving him free reign on my little body, and thinking how happy I was at last. What could be better than lying in this bed, in this house, in this street, in this country, with Ciggy's beautiful teen dick piledriving up my veteran little shota boy cunt, with all the pleasurable sensations that were surging through my hairless little frame. I twisted around to see Ciggy above me, pulling out for a moment and kneeling there, with his stiff cock jutting out, slimy with the residue of his previous cums, threateningly poised to re-enter me, and he smiled, exposing his perfect white teeth. I smiled back, thus confirming that I was enjoying this as much as he was. Those smiles were a confirmation of our regard for each other, an exchange of true love, and I realized at that moment how much I actually loved this boy. Our love was real and deep and profound. It was all I ever needed. All I ever wanted. Happy at last, I turned my head and buried my face back into the pillow, and I closed my eyes, steeling myself for yet another punishingly hard fuck.

THE END

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Authors note: To those of you who have made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my words. Thank you for sharing the tears and the joy and for taking this journey with me.