Date: Tue, 25 Jul 2017 07:53:35 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Fourteen again Chapter 63 Fourteen again by badboi666 =============================================================================== This story is - guess what! - fantasy. If sex with boys isn't your thing, go away. If, as is much more likely, you've come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about sex with a 14-year-old then make yourself comfortable - you're in the right place. Remember the three things: 1 Cum 2 Wipe 3 Donate =============================================================================== Chapter 63 We left Yeovil at about 9 and were in Camborne shortly after 11. I navigated to Peter's house, but there was no sign of his lorry, and the door bell wasn't answered. "Let's try the beach," I said, "he may be there, and even if he's not it'll be fun." Ace was happy to go along with this - why not, as he had a body to display with pride. We got to the parking place and there, to my delight, was Peter's lorry. "He's here!" I said, "now all we have to do is find him." Ace locked the bike and I led him to the concrete changing block. Was it only 20 days since I'd last been here? It seemed like half a lifetime. We stripped off and stowed our clothes in one of the lockers before stepping out. Ace whispered to me that he'd never been to a nudist beach before. I explained about the etiquette - look by all means, don't be embarrassed by your own hard-on, and don't stare at anyone else's. I received another of those how-do-you-know-all-this-if-you're-only-14 looks. "I've been here before, OK? Come on, there's a beachful of queers who don't know what a treat is about to show himself. And he's all mine!" Ace grinned and gave me a quick hug. "Oh, by the way," I said, "in these parts I'm known as Woody. Can't think why," and I ran off in front of him towards the beach. I wanted to be there to see my man stride out in all his glory. I dropped our towels in a nice spot. There were more men and boys on the beach today that there had been three weeks ago - maybe it was that the end of the summer wasn't far away; this might be the last scorching weekend (and scorching it was). I couldn't see either Peter or Zak. What I could see was a bronzed figure striding towards me with a broad grin on his face and a semi-erect penis leading the way. One or two men noticed and within seconds Ace was being studied by everyone within 50 yards. I couldn't contain myself. I ran towards him and jumped into his arms, burying my face in the crook of his neck. "Oh Ace, you're gorgeous. Look at them all admiring you." "And envying you, I think," he added, hugging me before putting me down beside him. We both now had full-on erections. Nothing to do for it but aim for the sea and its quenching ability. As we walked smiles broke out and random cries "Wow!" "Hi!" and "Would you look at that!" followed us. We swam for a while, playing like a couple of kids (which neither of us was, of course). After ten minutes our cocks were fit for human eyes again and we came ashore. A small crowd was watching from a respectful distance and as we walked towards where we'd left our towels I heard a cry of "Woody!" Some of the men gasped at such a breach of etiquette - you didn't comment on erections - but when Zak rushed up to me and we hugged they relaxed. (This boy's name must be Woody - how appropriate.) Zak was all over me, what have you been up to, why are you here, are you staying, I've missed you - all in one breath. I gave him a quick kiss and told him I was here with my lover, pointing to Ace, standing a few feet away, much amused by the sudden appearance of this cannonball. Zak's jaw fell, then he remembered his manners. "I'm Zak," he said, "are you really Woody's lover?" "Well, Zak, I'm Ace and, as you can see, I'm here with Woody. We live together now." Zak's eyes glittered. "You lucky bugger," he said to me, "I wish I lived with Peter. He's here somewhere. My mum doesn't suspect anything, of course, but I only see him at the weekend." He couldn't take his eyes off Ace's cock. I was amused by looking at the faces of the men nearby. Most of them looked at Ace's cock, glanced away and were mesmerized by Tattoo-boy. I suppose they felt they could stare at Art, but not at Ace. The boys, on the other hand, were like rabbits before a snake, only in this case, a Snake. Because Zak knew me he was the only boy brave enough. "Can I touch it?" he whispered to me. "Not here," I said, "but when Peter appears I'm sure the four of us will go somewhere nice." Zak's eyes glittered. "I'd like that," he whispered. You and the whole fucking beach, I thought, but only you will get your wish. Peter had been swimming some way out, and was curious about the crowd which had formed on the beach. When he came in and saw me he ran up. When he saw Ace standing next to me the brakes went on instantly. "My God, Woody, is he yours?" Ace held out his hand. "You must be Peter; Jack's - no, Woody's - told me all about you." The two alpha males shook hands while we two boys looked on, conscious that about a million eyes were on our little group. Peter turned, "Come on guys, you've seen plenty of cocks before; have a good look at this beauty then fuck off and let us enjoy time at the beach." There was much laughter: most of the men there knew Peter and knew he wasn't being too serious. One brave soul said, "your cock's pretty amazing, but the tattoo is unbelievable." This broke the ice and the Art was admired at close range. Ace was asked where it had been done, and there was much sighing when the source was revealed as being as far away as Egypt. One man stroked his friend's chest and said to him, "Oh well, I can dream there's a boy there when we're in bed." That provoked gales of laughter all round and the group began to disperse, not without a few regretful lingering glances, and not just at Tattoo-boy. Soon the four of us were on our own. I led a move to our towels and we all sat down. "Enjoying yourselves here?" asked Peter. Ace told him that this was his first time on a nudist beach. "In that case you handled it well," said Peter, causing Zak to burst into fits of giggles. I told Ace what Zak had whispered to me and he smiled and said that Zak would be more than welcome to stroke it, but not here. He looked at Peter, who nodded agreement. Peter's bungalow it would be then. Peter and Zak and I caught up with our news while Ace lay on his back topping up his tan. Casually I stroked his white arse, and he purred, "Mmmm! nice, Woody. I like that name." Peter has been true to his word about looking out for Zak, and the boy was clearly devoted to his new grown-up friend. They spent a lot of time together. I wondered what Zak's mum thought about it all, or his dad, come to that. Zak's dad had never been mentioned. I decided that the easiest way to find out more about what Zak felt about his life now that Peter had become a part of it was to ask. "Do your mum and dad know Peter?" I asked. "I'm sure they know who he is, after all, Camborne isn't a big place, but he's not one of their friends or anything. They've no idea about me and him, thank God, or my dad would kill me." "What does your dad do?" I asked, knowing that it was always 'my mum' who had to grant permission for him to do things. "He's a merchant seaman; he's on long distance ships. Right now he's somewhere in the Indian Ocean on his was to Singapore. I don't see much of him. Peter does things with me - no, not those things - things a Dad would do if he was here." This was sad, but Zak's father's career was hardly my responsibility. "I'm glad you've got Peter then," I said quietly. Zak snuggled close and whispered in my ear, "You did that, Woody, and every night in bed I think of you, and I thank you for ... just being who you are." Emotional stuff for both of us. Ace and Peter had been chatting away happily, Ace forgetting completely about being unnaturally naked. It's amazing what having a fantastic body (and fantastic Art) can do to remove self-consciousness in a man. Peter stood up. "Come on, you two," it's time to hit the pub." We all trooped back to the changing block and climbed into our clothes. Peter admired Ace's bike when we got to it. "It's a Triumph Thunderbird, isn't it?" "Yes, a 1955. My twin brother's got an identical one." "He's got an almost identical tattoo as well," I added. Peter told Ace to follow him in the lorry. "It's only a couple of miles, but it's all country lanes and if I try to tell you I'll get lost myself." Before I got on the bike Zak beckoned to me. "Is Ace into piss, like we are? 'Cos that's why Peter and I go to the pub." "Oh yes," I said, "you can rely on me to choose my lovers well." And as soon as I'd said it I felt cheap. I must be growing old. The pub was a real joy. I had forgotten what an English country pub was like. The last 60-odd years had seen the take-over of so many local breweries by chains, usually with soulless marketing people, and the tarting-up of so many pubs into garish roadhouses with muzak and general ghastliness. I was now certain I was growing old. This pub could not have been more welcoming. Peter and Zak were clearly regular visitors, and the owner, sweating behind his pumps, greeted them cheerfully. "Afternoon, gents, your usual?" Zak nodded, no doubt breaking all kinds of laws in technically placing an order to purchase alcoholic beverages while being under age. But this was rural Cornwall in late Summer 1957, and no-one could care less. Peter turned to Ace. "What'll you have, Ace?" Ace decided that a pint of best would go down nicely (a grin from Zak, who was clearly picking up the queer lingo) "no, make that two. There's a garden, I suppose?" The publican pulled three pints and poured a lemonade for Zak, giving me an old-fashioned look, and pointing to the garden. "It's not in sight of the bar, as you know, Peter," he said. What could this mean, I wondered. I was given a tray to carry with the drinks on, to which had been added an empty glass. Once seated Peter poured half of the third pint into the empty glass, and topped it up with lemonade. He then put the rest of the lemonade into the half-empty beer mug, "Here you are," he said, handing the glasses to Zak and me, "a pint of shandy each. Sup up." This was the first beer I'd drunk since coming back, and it reminded me how much we'd lost in the name of progress. True, you could find decent beer in an increasing number of pubs in 2017, but in lots of places it was well-nigh impossible. I decided that my second pint would be a proper one. I had worked out that the beer was going to feature later on, so a second pint for me (and probably a third for Ace and Peter) would be on the cards. I settled back to enjoy myself in the sun. Ace and Peter were deep in a discussion of motor bikes, and although a bit of me knew that I had promised myself to bone up on this subject I couldn't really sustain any interest. Maybe when Ace and I - or even King and I - were on our own I could ask to be taught about these machines, but right now the only thing boning up was me. I had forgotten how sexy Zak was. Was I going to be able to get some time with him? I got up to go to the bog and nodded that he should follow me. "Don't waste it, "warned Peter. "No chance of that, trust me," I grinned, "but you'd better have plans for where we go in an hour or so." In the bog Zak and I were alone. I stopped him getting his cock out. "We're not here to piss. Are you staying at Peter's tonight?" He nodded. "Mum thinks I'm at a friend's." "Doesn't she ever check up?" "No, not so far. I'm pretty sure she's OK." "Are you OK with Ace and me joining you?" "That's the first time since I've known you, Woody, that you've said anything really stupid. Peter and I are together as often as we can be, and you and Ace are obviously in love. Why wouldn't a foursome be fun? Ace's body is fantastic: can you get all of him up you? Doesn't it hurt?" So many questions! "In order - yes, isn't it; yes; at first a bit, but it's the kind of hurt that quickly turns into a hot feeling inside. You must feel the same when Peter fucks you." "Yes, I know. I can't put it into words." "A boy I knew called it 'electric bubbles'," I said. "Yes, I see what he means," said Zak. Our conversation finished we went back to the garden. Ace wasn't there. Peter said he was inside buying his round. I went back in and caught him before he was served. "I'd like a proper pint, and Zak wants a pint of shandy. Why don't you get 5 pints and a shandy? Then you and Peter'll have plenty to share with us innocent little boys when we get back to his place." "You've done this before, haven't you?" "What, sir, me sir? An innocent child like me?" I went back into the garden. Zak and Peter were muttering about something. Zak said, "Peter says it's OK." "That's good news," I said, "but hardly surprising. We've all come a long way since the A30 outside Staines." Peter laughed, "indeed we have, Woody. Do you live with Ace?" "With Ace and King," I said, "we have an open marriage." Peter spluttered into his beer, and roared with laughter. "That'll be the day!" Too right it will, I thought, but not for a few decades. I thought quickly. It was 1957 ... in 2013 Peter would be 81 and Zak 68. They might still be alive and able to marry. Plenty of hurdles before then, but you could dream. Dream ... now there's an idea. Could I tell Ace? Ace came back, armed with afternoon's fun's raw materials. "They do food as well, "he told me. "Do you fancy anything?" Biting back the obvious I said that I would indeed fancy some grub. "Go on in, then, you two, and sort out what you want. Peter and I want a Ploughman's." More cheap laughs to bite back. Zak and I went back in. Zak said that the pies were great, so I ordered pie and chips twice and two Ploughman's. It was time I paid for things. I had started with £400 and had over £200 left. I would give it all to Ace before Tuesday - Tuesday: oh God! only four more days. I took another big white £5 note out to pay for the food. The publican's eyes widened. "I don't see many of those down here," he said. "It's my special spending money," I said, "and I want to buy the food to thank them," jerking my thumb towards the garden. He added up the food - "eleven and six." I said I was really sorry I hadn't anything smaller, but he smiled and assured me that I needn't worry - there was plenty of change. I left half a crown on the bar, and he was genuinely pleased. "The food'll be with you in a few minutes." You don't want a detailed account of the meal, or of the third pint, or of the journey back to Peter's, or to know that my bladder had a real job keeping its contents in as Ace roared along six miles of Cornish back roads. You don't really want to hear that there was instant agreement that as soon as we got inside Peter's front door that all clothes were shed in a heap in the hall, and that there was only the briefest of discussion between Peter and Zak about where we would go - "bathroom or garden?" "garden, it's bigger and no-one can see", or that we sped out of the back door through the long grass to the wild bit of Peter's garden. What you want to hear about is the abandoned spraying of piss from four cocks onto four naked bodies, and how each man doused his boy from head to foot in beer, and how each boy drank from his man's tap, and how each boy offered his cock to his man, and how each man swallowed his boy's processed beer (or, as it might be, shandy). Once all four bladders were empty a decision had to be made about where the inevitable next stage would take place - "here or inside?" "inside, there's no twigs there". Soaked with piss as we were I was glad to see that the path from back door to bedroom was lino. "Never mind the bed," said Peter, "it'll wash." Our couplings were all that could be expected. Zak got his wish to touch Ace's cock, and was invited to become more involved with it than merely touching. I reprised my pleasure with Peter, and he with me. Ace returned Zak's gesture by giving the 12-year-old the blow-job of his life, and the stars that Zak saw when he came, and Ace swallowed, were almost visible to me as well. Zak went to be cuddled by Peter in the corner of the bed by the giant mirror. Ace turned to me. "I think it's our turn as guests to do our party piece for these guys." I grinned. Ace was going to fuck me for an audience for the first time (I didn't count King: he was family). =============================================================================== badboi666@btinternet.com is where you should sent comments and suggestions. Make sure you drop something Nifty's way at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html