Date: Tue, 27 Feb 2024 08:39:07 +0000 (UTC) From: Piliki Boner Subject: Johan 2 Johan 2 I wake with summer sunrise at about 5 am. It takes me a few groggy seconds to register that a beautiful, naked boy is sprawled out all over me, but of course the memory of last night's spectacular sex with my young neighbour quickly comes back to me. Johan is lying on his side up against me, his head on my shoulder, a muscled arm over my chest and one beefy leg hooked up over my groin, the side of his knee pressing down pleasantly on my own morning wood, the deep instep of his hard brown foot cupped over my thigh just above my knee. I feel the hardness of his impressive morning wood pressing against my hip and I glance down to see half of its exceptional length sticking out between his belly and my hip. I nuzzle my cheek against the top of his blonde-bristled head and breathe in the sweet musky scent of young boy: `warm and smelling beautiful from sleep' (can't remember the poet just now). An unaccustomed feeling of warmth and wellbeing floods the area of my chest where I imagine my heart is, making my heart beat faster. ` What is this?' I think, `Can't remember feeling this before. Can't be a heart attack, it feels too good!' It dawns on me that I'm actually feeling happy, `Great feeling! But why? Can't just be the sex, though that was absolutely fucken amazing!' I lay my one hand over his big brown paw, where it rests open against my chest. With my other hand I gently feather-stroke the tips of my fingers up and down his thick neck and brawny brown back, running them over the two ridges of muscle that bulge up either side of his spine, forming a valley that runs all the way down into the deep cleft between the two marble-white globes of his beefy buttocks, circling those smooth, perfect orbs a few times and then back up again for another circuit. He murmurs contentedly and shifts slightly under my touch, but does not wake up. After a while, I stroke deeper into his cleft and gently probe at his anus, by now well-acquainted with both my fingers and my cock, and exposed to easy access by the spread-apart angle of his legs. Highly sensitized by a few years of frequent use, his hole flexes open involuntarily to my touch and my long middle finger slips easily into that warm, moist, slippery and welcoming channel. I feel his morning wood suddenly come alive against my hip: throbbing, swelling and hardening to the temper of steel, as he stirs against me, lifts his head and smiles at me sleepily, a husky satisfied purring sound in his throat. `Mmhh ... that's so lekker [nice]', he murmurs contentedly, sliding his knee off my morning wood and slipping his hand out from under mine, down over my belly to wrap his strong fingers around my shaft, sparking an electric tingling in the tip of my hardening cock as he starts stroking me firmly. An hour later Johan has ridden me, and himself, to two mind-numbing orgasms in succession and is lying once more against me with his one leg across my groin, wiping a finger through the splodges of our cum on my chest and belly, and licking it off his finger to see if he can taste the difference. Once again I am feather-stroking his back with my fingers. He lifts his head, catches my eyes with his, and says: `I'm just so happy lying here with you like this!' `The sex was amazing, Johan! Best ever, I reckon!' `Ja, the sex was great ... but it's not that ... it's something else.' `What?' `I dunno. It's like ... it's like I feel I'm home for the first time ... it's weird!' I pull him towards me and kiss him on the mouth. He kisses back eagerly, tongue probing my lips for entry - another indication of how sexually experienced he is. South African 13-year-olds don't go in much for kissing - let alone tongue-kissing! `I wish I could live here with you!', he says as he disengages his lips from mine, looking at me expectantly, his eyes asking for an answer. He said basically the same thing yesterday. And when you consider his current living circumstances, it's not hard to see how attractive the proposition must seem to him, spontaneous as it obviously was, given that we had just met and only fucked once when he said it. In itself perhaps an indicator of how bad things are at home. And of course it's massively tempting for me to agree, if only to have constant access to the best sex I've ever had while I'm here. And that's really the rub - `while I'm here'! It just wouldn't be fair to have him live with me for the next three months, fuck his brains out every day, and then send him back to live with his prostitute mother, her pimp boyfriend and the pimp's nympho daughter, in their two-roomed flat, when it's over. So I smile vaguely, ruffle his hair, and I don't give him an answer. But Johan isn't having any of that: `So, what do you say Stef?' he grins widely, getting up to sit on his knees beside me,`Did you think about it yet?' I hesitate before answering. `I did, yes, Johan. Thing is, I dunno if it's such a good idea ...' His grin fades and he looks at me earnestly, his forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. `Why's that? I know you love the sex! Is it me you don't like?' I sit up now and reach out to take his hand. `No, never! In fact, I like you a hell of a lot!' Even as I say the words, I realise that `like' doesn't nearly cover what I am feeling for a boy who, in the very short time since I met him, has not only given me the best sex I have ever had; but makes me feel deeply happy just by his presence - happier than I have ever been in fact. `Then why? I just don't understand!' he says, his face reddening and his eyes looking troubled, `I been happier this time I been with you than any time in my life, an' I know I make you happy - an' not just because of the sex - that I know I'm fucken good at! Why can't we be happy together? An' don't tell me because I'm someone else's kid, or some bullshit about the law!' I stare at him for a long moment. `Okay, here's the thing', I say eventually, `I'm only here for three months, and then I go back to Iraq or Afghanistan or some other shithole for another private military contract. Then I'm away for at least six months. What do I do with you then? I can't live with you and love you for three months and then walk away for six! And you can't live here alone while I'm gone! I mean, I know you are fully capable of looking after yourself, but Hennie and your Ma will drag the authorities into it and they will take you away and put you in a home somewhere!' Now Johan stares at me for a long while. `I don't care', he says eventually, and completely calmly, `I knew that anyway! I'm not a doos! [idiot, literally, cunt]. I know you here for just a short time and then you going away again. If I never see you again, at least I'll have the happiest three months of my life! An' if it means I can be with you again in six months, I'll go into a home, or whatever, with a fat fucken smile, an' I'll wait six months for you to come back an' I'll have another happy three months!' I search his face. He is absolutely sincere. I make up my mind. `Well, Johan. As long as you know that I promise you nothing more than the time I'm in-country, and you are prepared to take your chances on that, then I will be absolutely happy and delighted for you to move in with me while I'm here!' Johan launches himself like a released spring from where he is sitting back against his calves and dives his brawny bulk into me, wrapping his arms around me and knocking me back onto the bed to lie on top of me, laughing and crying at the same time with undiluted happiness. My eyes are also a little wet - (`Jeez, Stef, get a grip boy!' I think to myself) - and I wrap my arms around him and give him a bear hug as it dawns on me that the prospect of Johan living with me for the next three months has made me happy as a pig in shit. Happy naked Johan on top of happy naked Stef leads rapidly to another happy hour of celebratory sex, so that when we head for the shower I strip off the bed-linen and drop it in the laundry basket on the way to shower. I make a mental note to pick up a lot more bed-linen. With Johan moving in, it's looking like daily sheet changes, and my laundromat is gonna be kept pretty busy over the next three months. Over breakfast, which we don't bother getting dressed for, I broach the issue of what Johan's mom and Hennie might have to say about Johan moving in with me. `They got nothing to say!' he says scornfully, `My mom don't care, an' Hennie got no rights over me!' `We should probably at least let them know what's happening?' `Ag, I told you, sometimes I'm not home for a whole week - they don't ask where I been. Once I went to Durban with a client for three weeks - when I got back they didn't even ask where I was!' `Still, I'd feel more comfortable if we at least let them know you'll be staying here with me.' Johan shrugs his shoulders and waves a hand dismissively: `Okay if you want. Hennie will jus' be a shit about it.' After breakfast I put on shorts and an oversized short-sleeved cotton shirt that I like to wear hanging loose rather than tucked in. Johan squeezes himself into the too-small shorts and muscle vest that he came in, and we pad down the walkway, both of us barefoot, to call on Johan's mother and Hennie. Hennie comes to the door. He stands in the doorway with his back against one side of the frame and a hand stretched out to press against the other, as if afraid we might push past. He's about half a head shorter than me and he's dressed in tight black jeans that show off his only physical asset - a bulge in the groin so large I have to wonder if it's real - black long-sleeve turtle-neck sweater and pointed-toe black patent leather shoes, despite the blistering heat. His sandy hair is coiffured in an overblown mullet that looks like it's been sprayed with varnish ('he spends hours doing his hair' Johan tells me later). He must have been good-looking once, but the knocks of life have left his face thin, pale and drawn. The reddened whites of his watery blue eyes tell a tale of drug or alcohol abuse and he puffs and coughs constantly at a cigarette dangling between two fingers. He looks down at my bare feet with a sneer and then back up at me: `Cool, one less mouth to feed', Hennie says, `But don't get too used to having him around ... he'll come crawling back here soon ... he always does!' I look at him in surprise. He laughs. `What, did you think you was the first sugar daddy he ran away to? There been others, you know. That boy's like a feather in the wind - blows this way, blows that way - never gonna commit to anything - never gonna amount to anything! He's a natural born whore-boy, did you known that? Can't go a whole day without three or four cocks up his arse! One man's cock never gonna be enough for him. That's why he still works for me, even though he hates me - `cause all the johns in this neighbourhood belongs to me. Without me Johan couldn't give his bum away for free in this neighbourhood!' `Well, all the same, he'd like to pick up his things and move them to my flat now', I say, trying to keep things civil. `His things? His things? There's nothing in this place that he paid for. If he wants to walk out, he walks out with the clothes on his back ... An' I'm being generous with that much!' Johan glares at Hennie, then peels off his shorts and muscle vest and throws them at him. `Keep `em!' he yells, `You didn't buy `em either! You got `em outta the Church Bazaar Jumble!' At that, he turns on his hard bare heel and stalks off naked down the walkway back to my flat - our flat, I should say. Halfway there he turns again, points both hands down at the horse-cock dangling between his thighs and yells: `An' you not sellin' this no more neither! I'm never gonna work for you again!' Hennie smirks at me as he turns to go back into his flat. `Fuck, that kid's sexy! Just look at the length he got on him! Been like that since he was little, you know. I mean it when I say you never gonna be enough for him - he been a cock slut since I first give it him when he was 9', he says, pointing his cigarette at his groin, `You never forget your first, you know. He loved it then an' he loves it now. Can't get enough of it. An' even I'm not enough for him - he gotta go lookin' for more. We'll see how long he lasts before he comes begging for more cock!', he says and slams the door shut. His words were meant to demean Johan in my eyes and plant a seed of distaste for an unstable boy addicted to sex and so helplessly promiscuous that he would offer his bum to anyone who wants it. But instead, they have made me massively horny, and I am thankful for the bulky shirt that hides the evidence straining to get out of the front of my shorts. I hurry back to Johan. I find him standing in the kitchen, waiting for my return, anxiety written all over his face. `I'm so sorry Stef, !'m not like that...', he starts, but I cut him off by going straight up to him, wrapping my arms around him, lifting him up, clamping my lips over his in a passionate tongue kiss and carrying him to the bedroom. I drop him on his back on the bed and I yank off my shirt and shorts before getting up onto the bed and pushing his knees back to his shoulders. `I don't care if what Hennie said about you is true or not, it's made me horny as hell, and I just gotta fuck you now, if that's okay with you!' The huge grin on his face and the fact that he is already fully erected gives me answer, and I immediately enter him straight and hard. Afterward, we lie next to each other, face to face with our legs entwined, and embrace, just enjoying the wonderful afterglow of marvellous sex. I cup my hand over his cheek and look him in the eyes: `Let's just get one thing straight between us that's not our cocks!' I start. He chuckles at the weak joke. `Just because we're living and fucking together - I should say `making love' together, because I think that's what it is for me - doesn't mean I own you, or that you own me. I commit to looking after you, protecting you, and providing for everything you need while we are together; but that doesn't mean I've bought you, or that your arse is now mine, or that you can't have sex with anyone else if you want to. In fact I don't expect any kind of commitment from you at all. You're still a kid, and you're not expected to commit yourself to a steady relationship with someone else, boy or girl. Until you get there, I absolutely insist that you have as much sex with as many different people as you like. Even with Hennie, since he says you can't get enough of his cock!' Johan giggles at this. `That's just what Hennie thinks, okay.' He thinks a moment. `Hennie's a prick, but he fucks good, an' he's got a lekker big cock, though not so big as you!' `Well, that's a relief to know!' I chuckle. `I meant what I said', I add, `I really don't mind if you carry on doing rent-boy work for Hennie - at least you know you're reasonably safe with Hennie's clients. If you cruise for your own, you never know what you're gonna get.' `I only ask that, if you stay out overnight with anyone, or if you go to Durban with a client for a couple of weeks, you let me know. Not because you belong to me in any way, but because it's the decent thing to do, and because I will be worried shitless if I don't know that you're safe, and I might come out and break some doors and heads until I know that you are!' `Okay, I promise', he says, planting a kiss on my lips, `It feels different already that there's someone who gives a shit if I'm alive or dead!' I sit up. `Let's shower, and then we'll go get you clothes and stuff you need.' Johan wriggles his bum on the bed and his big half-hard sausage flops heavily from hip to hip. `I like being bare-arse like this!' `Me too! And when you're home you don't ever have to wear clothes. But when I take you out, you gotta wear clothes!' `I know, I'm jus' saying I wish we didn't have to! Surely there's somewhere we could live where nobody wears clothes?' he grins. `I'm sure there is - we'll have to google it and see', I say ruffling his blonde bristles with my hand. After showering, Johan puts on the old gym shorts I gave him yesterday. They're rather baggy, but his big, brawny build makes them work. Then I find an old Army vest for him to wear. The neck of the vest hangs open to his navel and the hem hangs down past his butt, but he thinks it's cool, and I have to concede that he looks pretty sexy in his oversized clothes - proving that if you have a great body you can get away with wearing just about anything. Or nothing, depending on the circumstances! I dress in what I was wearing earlier, just adding beach slops to my feet, and we head down to the lock-up garage that I am renting in addition to the flat. As I swing up the metal door, Johan's mouth drops open in stunned admiration for my `81 Harley-Davidson FXE 1340 Super Glide. `Fok my! [Fuck me!]' he exclaims, `Is that yours, Stef? That's fucken amazing!' `Yup! That's my baby!' He darts forward to run his hand admiringly over the long curved seat and the deep metallic maroon paintwork of the fuel tank. `Jeez, this seat is long an' wide enough to fuck on!' he grins mischievously at me. `Actually, I can confirm that it is!' I grin back. Absent-mindedly, he squeezes his cock through his vest and shorts, and from its brief outline in the fabric as he does so, it is evident that the thought has made him horny. Doesn't take much with Johan, I'm learning!. `I bet you fucked lotsa boys on this thing?' he says huskily. `Actually, there's been just a very special few! Five, to be exact!' His eyes seem to glaze slightly and he grips his hardening shaft again. He looks a plea at me while his hand rests on the soft black leather seat. `Am I special enough to be number six?' I grin at him: `As far as I'm concerned, you're the most special of them all. I reckon you're special enough to be the 6th and last!' He throws himself at me and buries his face in my chest, his arms around my back. `That's the nicest thing anyone ever said to me - an' meant it - in my whole life!' Then he steps back. `Please can we do it now?' `No the garage is not the place. We'll do it properly, out on a ride, at the right time, okay, but just not now. We got stuff to do!' The glint in his eye goes out and he grins: `Okay, Stef, you the boss-man!' On the way to a shopping centre, Johan sits right up against me, his muscled arms wrapped around my belly, and I can feel his hardness sandwiched between his belly and my lower back, evidence that being fucked on the bike's pillion is still very much in his thoughts. Johan and I have loads of fun kitting him out with clothes and other stuff. I really enjoy spoiling him as if he were my own son, which all the shop assistants assume he is. At one point I hand him a pair of expensive Nike trainers to try on, but he hands them straight back. `Thanks, but I don't wear shoes', he says. `But maybe if we go to a fancy place for dinner sometime, you'd like to wear shoes?' I counter. `If you gotta wear shoes to fit in I don't wanna go there!' he says, in a matter-of-fact, end-of-discussion tone. `Okay, Johan, you the boss-boy!' I grin. He grins back. I suddenly realise I'm happy to take him to the best restaurant in the City barefoot, if that's what he wants. So much for my firm traditional military views about the right dress for the right occasion. This kid is changing me already! Eventually we have to buy Johan a sizeable backpack to carry all his stuff in. Then we head back to the flat. It's midday and we stop to pick up a big bag of burgers, chips and cold drinks for lunch. On the way home we pass one of Johannesburg's iconic, long abandoned, gold mine dumps - one of the early conical ones, where the waste was physically delivered in dump-trucks, rather than the huge slimes dams of more recent construction. I slow down at once, turn around, and take a side road to the entrance gate. `What we gonna do here?' Johan asks, his youthful face really cute under the military style half-helmet with the Stars and Stripes decal that I made him wear. `I thought we could take a slow ride up the truck track to the top and have our lunch looking out over the City.' `Cool!' he replies. I suddenly notice an unusual burning smell, and I take a close look to see what it could be. The mystery is cleared up when I see that, instead of folding out the foot pedals, Johan is resting his bare feet on the chromed exhausts on either side of the bike, and the heat is burning his calloused soles without him feeling anything! `Now I see you truly don't need shoes!' I laugh, smacking the top of his helmet and pulling out the foot pedals for him. The gate is not locked and the Harley growls slowly along the truck track that winds up the outside of the dump until we reach a flat top where trees have grown over the years, that provide a shady spot where we can park and eat our lunch while enjoying the view. I park the bike sideways on to the view and we sit side by side and make short work of the takeaways. Afterward I get off and walk to the edge of the flat top to pee over the side. When I return to the bike I find Johan lying on his side, lengthways along the top of the bike in an exaggerated Playboy type of pose, his head supported on one elbow, his other arm lifted with the hand at the back of his head, the top knee raised with his foot flat on the seat, and the bottom leg stretched out onto the fuel tank. He is wearing nothing but a grin and an inordinately long erection! `How about now?' he asks. `Well, talk about an offer I can't refuse!' I reply as I quickly strip off my shirt and shorts and Johan swings up into a sitting position. `How we gonna do this?' he asks. `Easy!' I reply, `You sit on my seat like you gonna ride the bike, then you lie back against your seat where it slopes up over the wheel, and you rest you head against your backpack on the carrier. Then you lift your knees to your shoulders like always, and I stand up on these pedals, lie over you, push my cock in and fuck!' `Cool!' Johan says as he hastens to comply. As I bend over to enter him, he looks sideways out over the City and chuckles. `I always wanted to fuck in front of the whole of Joburg!' Straightaway I plunge my fuck-pole all the way into him and he groans aloud at the pain of my customary hard driving initial entry. After the hundreds, quite possibly thousands of times his arse has been fucked since Hennie took his virginity at the age of 9, it is amazing to me how firm and strong his sphincter still is on first entry, though of course the years of practice show in the rapidity with which it becomes more supple and accommodating afterward. Johan is not a passive fuck by any means, which I absolutely love about him. He participates actively: using his powerful abdominals to rock his bumhole back onto my cock in time with each thrust; wrapping his muscular legs around my back to pull me harder into him; and rapidly clenching his strong sphincter muscle up and down the whole length of my cock as it moves in and out of him, playing it like a flute in effect, and so producing a sensation unlike anything I have ever felt before. I have never known anyone, boy or man, who has such masterful control over his own fuck channel - and my travels in the East have crossed the paths of many men and boys trained from birth and exceptionally skilled in the male-on-male sexual arts. What Johan does certainly enhances my own sexual pleasure to the power of ten, but it seems obvious from the intense enjoyment he gets out of it himself, that it is aimed at enhancing his own sexual pleasure quite as much, which is why he invariably seems to achieve orgasm some time before I do; and again when I finally do. His ability to coincide our final orgasms is also uncanny. And this time is no different: I feel his body stiffen momentarily under me and then go into the most violent convulsions around my cock while his horse-cock sprays his chest, neck and face with several spurts of thick white cum as he bellows his delight. I keep fucking through it, and immediately after the convulsions cease, he is again fucking back on my cock with the same intensity as before, until my own orgasm explodes through me, jerking and spasming my body in exquisite ecstasy, while at the same time Johan is in the grip of his second big orgasm underneath me. We have barely recovered our breath when Johan sits up, my cum rushing out of his still flexed-open hole to dribble and run down the smooth leather surface of the seat. Then he gets off the bike and makes me lie back against the pillion where he had just been lying, before climbing up to straddle me, standing precariously with his strong toes gripping the crash bars on either side, while he lowers himself onto my cock and then rides both of us to two further orgasms. Finally, we are both sated, for now, and we sit naked on a boulder nearby, allowing the sun to dry the cum on our bodies, while we down the last two cold drinks - no longer that cold, but wet and sweet at least. `Well, that was the best fuck I ever had on that bike, thank you, Johan, you were amazing, as always!' Johan leans his head into me. `Thanks Stef, that was the best ever for me too! Sorry about messing cum all over the bike, I'll wash it off when we get back to your place.' `First off - it's our place now, not my place. And second, I've never washed any cum off the bike. I just leave it to sink in and dry and rub off on its own - so the seat is actually right now still impregnated with the cum of everyone who ever fucked on that bike! And that's the way I like it.' `That's kinda weird, but it's also really cool to think I'll always be part of that great bike!' he grins. In that mood we decide we'll ride back to the flat naked, but when we get down to the gate, we hear a police car siren on the main road just nearby, so we chicken out and put just our shorts back on for the rest of the ride home, our cocks pleasantly half erect as they remember the amazing sex they just enjoyed on the mine dump. `We gotta do that again!' Johan shouts into my ear above the roar of the Harley. I give him a thumbs-up in agreement.