Date: Thu, 31 Oct 2019 08:40:28 +0000 (UTC)
From: Peter Brown <badboi666@btinternet.com>
Subject: Last of the Line Chapter 12

Last of the Line by badboi666

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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 14-year-olds then make yourself comfortable - you're in the right
place.  Don't leave, however, without doing this:

Donate to Nifty - these buggers may do it for love but they still have to
eat.  http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

When I wrote Chapter 11 on my PC I was careful to put the extracts from
Joel's Memoir in italics.  Alas, the nifty elves don't appear able to
produce such a typeface.  Thus, for the avoidance of doubt I shall use

***** as a break within Dab's narrative or Joel's Memoir and

+++++ to indicate a change in the voice: Dab to Joel (or another, as will
happen later), or vice versa.  I hope that helps.

===============================================================================

Chapter 12

Rivers fucked me, as I had promised he would, in the back of the Rolls in
what I had come to regard as 'our' lay-by.  Afterwards, while we lay back
and recovered (he had sucked me off, as usual) I broached the subject of
hair.  "Billy and I have decided it's much sexier if we're smooth.  Will
you show me how to shave in the holidays?  And Billy too?"  Rivers laughed.
"Of course I will, Dab, if that's what you want.  When I was your age I was
desperate to grow hairs to show I was growing up."  It was my turn to
laugh.  "So was I until I encountered Billy.  I became far more grown-up
when I found I loved him and he loved me than growing a few wispy hairs
would have done.  Besides, it's sexier skin on skin, isn't it?"  Rivers
agreed.  "That's why I like `em young, Dab, just like you were at first."
It was agreed that shaving, and shaving lessons, would be high on the
priorities on my return for Christmas.  Thirteen weeks, thirteen long
Billy-less weeks.  Still, he would have a zipper in a day or two and we
would zip each other every day.  "You won't forget his zipper, will you?"
"No, Dab, I won't forget.  That's the twentieth time you've reminded me."

*****

In my desire to get on with my story I realise that I told you nothing of
my year as a Third.  Thirds slept four to a dormitory - evidently greater
age brought a slight decrease in the number of people one was expected to
share with.  This didn't bother me as my companions in Rockingham were
Nigger, Dugald and Sid Erridge (who, for an unfathomable reason, continued
to be thought of as just 'Erridge').  Sex, in all possible couplings, had
taken place frequently and entirely enjoyably.  Facts had continued to be
drilled into us in between nights of adolescent lust.  I enjoyed being 15.

Now, however, I was at a fork in the road.  Would the Housemaster on my
return appoint me as a Prefect (with all the responsibilities that that
entailed), or would I be a Fourth?  There were 14 of us still in our fourth
year and not all of us would be Prefects.  The tradition was that returning
fourth-year boys would find a letter appointing them (if they were lucky)
to the exalted heights of a prefectship when they looked in their
pigeon-hole.  I looked - nothing!  I had expected a letter, and I was
disappointed.  Still, the attraction of being one of those for whom the new
intake of Village Whores would be required to satisfy went some way to
ameliorating my disappointment.

I went to my Den - larger again than the ones I'd occupied in earlier years
- to find Nigger and Dugald.  Nigger had a letter in his hand.  "I'm a
Prefect, and so's Dugald," he cried, waving his piece of paper rather in
the manner of Chamberlain waving his.  "Well done," I said, "I'm not."
Dugald laughed.  "Oh yes you are, you silly bugger.  Nigger pinched your
letter," and he threw it at me.  It was true.  All three of us, as well as
Erridge, Quiggin and Archer were to join the elite.  Each of us would have
a Pup.  "The Pups parade is at 6," said Nigger, "so we've only got half an
hour.  I think the three of us and Erridge should agree a plan."  I asked
what he meant.  "Well, it might be more fun if the four of us shared four
Pups.  Not all the time, but if we swopped now and again -" "- or had a
foursome," said Dugald.  It seemed an interesting idea and we went in
search of Erridge.  His agreement was quickly obtained.

"What do we want to do?" I said.  Nigger and Dugald had thought it through.
"We want four Pups with different characteristics.  Some small, some tall."
"I don't want a fatty," I said, and found to my relief that all four of us
had a desire for slim Pups.  "Let's just wait until they parade, then we
can put our heads together," said Erridge.

When the Pups paraded they were confronted with nine Prefects - six
newly-appointed and three old and wrinkled by the year of responsibility
(and fucking) to which they had been called.

There were twelve Pups and nine of us.  Two were plumper than we wanted,
but one of them was snapped up by Peter Quiggin.  There were two black
boys, both of whom were slim and attractive.  I chose one (Russell) and
Nigger, appropriately enough, chose the other (Golding).  Erridge had
always told us that he fancied blond boys, and one of the Pups had the
fairest hair I'd ever seen, so he - Eliot - was Erridge's choice.  Dugald
picked s pretty boy with a twinkle in his eye - the delightful Galsworthy
who, poor boy, had no doubt been 'Ballsworthy' at his prep school We felt
that we'd made good choices.

I took Russell back to my den - the same Den in which Morry Cohen and I had
spent so many happy hours and spilt so much spunk.  I asked Russell the
same question Morry had asked me.  "Wank, do you, Russell?"  He grinned,
"that I do, Sir."  "One of your duties will be to make sure that my balls
never become too full, Russell: does that fill you with dread, or with
delight?" His grin told me all I needed to know.  "I see," I said, "I think
we understand each other?"  "That I do, Sir."  I wondered if he had any
other words by way of conversation.

"In that case let's see what you've got in those trousers," I said.  While
he was stripping I should tell you that he was about four inches shorter
than I, weighed around 45 kilos, had very short hair, white teeth
contrasting with his black face when he grinned (which seemed to be the
natural setting of his features), and the blackest skin I'd ever seen.  He
told me later that all four of his grandparents had come from Nigeria, "and
we're the blackest in all Africa".  He was the oldest of his year, and
would be 14 the following spring.  Despite this his body was hairless.  He
stood before me, naked and unashamed.  His long uncut cock hung over
fully-developed balls like a length of hose-pipe.

I admired what he had, knowing that the coming year would not be without a
great deal of fun with a cock that big.  "Do you like what you see, Sir?"
"I do indeed, Russell.  I'm not Sir though.  My name is Cunliffe and I'm
the Earl of Inchkeith, not that that's important.  You call me Cunliffe, at
least for the time being."  "I don't know the form, Sir ... Cunliffe.  May
I speak?"  "Of course.  What is it?"  "May I see yours?"  It was my turn to
smile.  I stripped and stood facing him, my cock still soft.  He feasted
his eyes on his newly-revealed naked Trainer and came forward, kneeling in
front of me.  Gently he lifted my cock until it was in front of his mouth.
"I'm going to enjoy getting to know you," he said to it, "and I hope mine
will find a friend too."  I took his head in my hands.  "I think there's no
question of that."  I led him to the bed and we lay side by side, our hands
holding the other's cock.

"Tell me what you like," I said, "are you a top or a bottom?"  "Whatever's
going.  I like it both ways."  Music to my ears, I thought.  "On your back
then, I need to fuck you.  Then you'll be my Pup and I'll be your Trainer."
He lay back, his legs apart and his knees up by his ears.  I knelt and
admired his arse - flawless, hairless and inviting.  I bent to rim him. The
taste was quite different from any other arse I'd rimmed - musky, exotic
and exciting.  As my tongue lapped his arsehole I was intrigued to see it
open like a flower.  "I'm not the first to be up there," I said.  He
chuckled.  "No, not by a long chalk.  I was first fucked - properly fucked,
that is, fucked by a man, when I was 10.  I'd had boys up there since I was
8, but they didn't count because they were too small.  I love being fucked,
as you can tell."  I carried on with my rimming, moving to lick the length
- the considerable length - of his now hard ebony cock.  He shuddered.
"Fuck me, Cunliffe, hard please.  I need you in me.  Now!"  I obliged.

When I'd softened and slipped out he whipped round and cleaned me
thoroughly.  When all traces of spunk had gone (most of them in the process
of being digested) he lay back again, his hands behind his head.  "Thank
you," he said simply, "would you like me to fuck you now?"  I had already
decided that being fucked by Russell's 8 inches would be something to look
forward to, not rushed.  "No, not today.  I want to get my mouth round it,
or round as much of it as I can."  He chucked - it was an infectious sound.
"I've only found one man who can get it all in.  A teacher at my prep
school, and it took him a whole term before he managed."

Undaunted I knelt over his chest.  If I was going to suck him off I might
as well give him the opportunity to 69 me, although the height difference
might make it tricky.  I settled to my task.  I pulled his foreskin back
gently, revealing a pink cockhead not unlike mine.  How strange, I thought.
I licked all round, getting a taste of a new cock - sharp with a faint
touch of piss and lots of precum.  Just how I liked it.  He wisely kept
still, allowing me to take it in at a comfortable rate.  I managed about 4
inches.  My fingers were active round his arse, still full of my spunk and
leaking copiously.  I drew some of the wetness up over his balls.  "You can
stick your fingers in," he whispered, "I love it."  So it was that on
Russell's first day at school he had his first orgasm in my mouth and
enjoyed my first orgasm up his arse.  Also up his arse while he shot in my
mouth were three fingers.  He told me afterwards that he could accommodate
four, but the angles had been wrong.  I resolved to correct that the
following day.

"Is this how it is here?" he asked as we lay together after he'd come.
"Yup.  You're here to get me off.  Luckily I chose well, and I think you'll
enjoy it as much as I will."  He turned to look at me.  "I hope so,
Cunliffe.  That was a good fuck, hard and fast, and that's how I like it."
I didn't kiss him that first day - it wouldn't have been proper.  But I
resolved that such an act of intimacy would not be long delayed.

*****

As the weeks went by we moved quickly, as Morry and I had done, to Dab and
Dan.  He was a very inventive Pup, willing to try new things (as I was keen
to experiment with him) and he soon found that a long slow fuck with bags
of foreplay was just as exciting as the fast, hard fucks he'd said he
preferred.  I got four fingers up him a couple of days after our first
session, and although he wanted me to get more in I wasn't able to do so -
my hands were too big.

I've jumped ahead a bit, as usual.  Dan and I had an important hurdle to
cross, and you will wish to hear about it.  You'll remember that we four
Trainers had agreed that a somewhat larger group than one Trainer and his
Pup might occasionally gather.  It took a fortnight for the first such
party to happen.  Dugald and I decided one evening that our Pups were
sufficiently well-trained (which boiled down to their being as keen on sex
with us as we were with them) for a foursome to be worth enjoying.  We
tossed a coin and it was decided that Dan and I would visit Dugald and
Galsworthy the following afternoon at 4 o'clock.  "Does Galsworthy wear a
cock strap?" I asked.  "Good God no, Dab.  Got to keep something back for
after Christmas."  "Nor does Dan."  Dugald's eyebrows shot up.  "Got that
intimate with him already, Dab?  What will Billy think if he has a rival in
Russell?" I pooh-poohed his nonsense.  "Billy's special - you know that -
but he's miles away.  He knows I fuck about with Dan - I zipped him to tell
him as soon as I knew I was a Prefect - and he says he doesn't mind.  What
he actually said was that I have to fuck him twice as much in the Christmas
holidays to make up for the fucks Dan has had that he hasn't."  "I don't
understand," said Dugald.  "Nor do I, but Billy's happy that there will be
megafucking as Santa approaches.  So no straps tomorrow."  "And no butt
plugs either."  "Agreed.  These things can only be introduced by a Trainer
in a private session with his Pup."  Dugald chuckled.  The 9-incher was
still in my Den, still uninserted.  It crossed my mind that Dan might
usefully be informed of its existence.

The session in Dugald's Den was memorable in so many ways.  Galsworthy (who
by the end of the afternoon had become Joe ("I hate Joseph", he'd said))
and Dan complemented each other: Dan's masculine face contrasting with
Joe's boyishly pretty one.  Had Dan not been black, and endowed with the
exoticism of a different skin colour (and taste, in the areas of special
interest), I would probably have picked Galsworthy, so the afternoon was
packed with boy-lovers' boxes to be ticked.  Joe's interests were
exclusively those of a bottom, and Dugald explained that this suited both
of them well.  "Have you never fucked anyone?" asked Dan disbelievingly.
"Of course I have," said Joe, "but only MacDonald's mouth."  "Aren't you
curious about sticking it up some luscious arse?" went on Dan.  Joe shook
his head.  "Too much talk, " I said, and set an example by removing my
clothes.  Two minutes later four piles of clothes occupied the four corners
of Dugald's Den and four naked teenagers occupied the cushions beside the
bed.

From the lack of surprise shown by Joe in Dan's mighty cock it had clearly
already passed before his eyes.  Dugald, on the other hand, was impressed
and made no effort to disguise the fact.  "I take it you've had that up
you, Dab?"  I nodded.  "And very nice it is too."  I was amused to see a
broad grin on Joe's face, and looked a raised-eyebrow question at him.  He
nodded, and rubbed his belly, rolling his eyes theatrically.  "It would
seem that there are few strangers to Dan's cock here, Dugald, and as you
are both the host and the owner of the only arse up which the good Russell
has not ejaculated, he'd better fuck you first."

By now all four of us were hard, and moisture was to be seen crowning all
four foreskins.  "Oh, very well," said Dugald, "I'd better get it over
with, I suppose."  His expression gave him away though.  He, like me (and
presumably Galsworthy), was keen to experience something that big.  Dugald
got on the bed.  "I like it doggy-fashion," he said, and crouched
invitingly.

Dan climbed onto the bed and knelt behind Dugald, kneading his arse cheeks.
"Is white man ready for black boy's massive cock?  Will he split in two
when black boy pushes it all in?  Will black boy's spunk come hurtling out
of white man's navel as it surges out of black boy's balls?"  "Have you
trained him to talk like that, Dab, or is he a natural?"  I hadn't heard
anything like it from Dan before, so I put it down to a hitherto unknown
acting skill.  Dan, having subtly placed himself firmly in charge announced
to Dugald's arse exactly what he planned to do to it.

"I am going to prepare you very carefully, nice white arse, by licking you
and teasing you with my tongue Like yours, it's a pink tongue, but it had
thousands of generations of black wickedness in it, and it knows how to
inflame white men's desire.  By the time I've finished you will be
screaming inside your head, and screaming inside your arse, for the red hot
cock you know is going to fill you up.  And when I finally let myself
pierce you you will know a sensation unlike any you've experienced before.
You will scream some more, but no-one will hear you: only my cock will
respond, and it will grow angry and hotter and ... boom! ... it will sear
your damp insides with white black fire."  "Good God Almighty, Dab, where
did you find this one?  the fucking National Theatre?  Tell your Pup to
stop acting and start delivering on his promise."  Dan glanced at me and we
nodded.  "Go for it," I mouthed.

When Dan first fucked me his foreplay had been pretty good; it was now
(thanks to my expert tuition) as good as any I'd come across in one so
young.  He had the rare ability to control his own urgency to come while
stoking up unbearable desire in his partner (just the opposite from his
behaviour when he was being fucked).  I like to think he learnt some of
that from me - from my thousands of generations of whatever-it-was.

After he'd finished Dan pulled out and waved his spunky cock for all to
admire.  Joe was on it immediately.  Joe's expression as he gleaned every
last morsel was a joy to see: eyes closed, pleasure radiating from every
inch of his face as his tongue gathered the nectar it sought.  Dugald and I
shared a happy glance: the children were enjoying themselves.  When Dan was
back to normal I pulled Joe onto the bed.  "My turn," I said, "how do you
like it, Joe?"  "Deep ... and please will you let Dan fuck me straight
after you ... no, you, Cunliffe, then MacDonald straight after then Dan
straight after that.  I want to be fucked by as many cocks as possible one
after the other."  "I'm lucky, Dab, to have such a slutty little Pup, am I
not?" said Dugald happily.  "By the way," he added quietly, "I think towels
under them might be useful."  I looked a question, and he nodded.
"Sometimes, yes."

If we were to have a prolonged session, as I - and doubtless Joe were
hoping for - then Joe would have to be on his back.  I placed him where I
wanted him - he was acting like a rag doll, allowing me to place his limp
limbs where I wanted them.  The hard part - and it was very hard indeed -
went where it pleased, rigidly against his smooth belly.  Joe's arse was
presented for my inspection - I had put his knees by his ears and placed my
hands under his hips - and I gave it a good rimming.  Joe's eyes closed -
they remained closed throughout the ensuing marathon - and his body arched
under my tongue's insistent ministrations.  My wet cockhead replaced my
tongue ... Joe moaned ... my cockhead rubbed itself round and round his
arse lips ... Joe moaned more urgently, making suggestive little upward
thrusts with his hips.  "I think he wants you to fuck him, Dab," said
Dugald in a spirit of helpful co-operation.  "Too fucking right," murmured
Dan, stroking his cock in preparation.  It was already half-hard, a mere 10
minutes after it had boiled Dugald's insides in the manner promised.

I pushed in.  If Joe was going to give sloppy seconds twice we really ought
to get going.  As you are well aware, I've fucked a lot of arses, but I
think Joe's was the prettiest face.  Billy's face was special, but that was
because I loved him.  I loved his freckles.  But Billy could not be called
pretty.  Joe, on the other hand, was drop-dead gorgeous to look at - long
eyelashes, perfect teeth (showing now as I fucked him through slightly
parted lips), a smile to melt concrete - all in a face with behind it a
brain pulsing with erotic desire and (let's face it) highly irregular
sexual needs.  Needs which I was doing my best to fulfil - or, at least, to
be first in the queue of fulfillers.

At 16 I was good at holding back.  Most 16-year-olds are urgent in their
need to come, but this 16-year-old had, you must remember, half a lifetime
of practice.  So I managed to keep going steadily for quarter of an hour
before the balls decided that it was time for action.  When I was having a
wank all those years ago I used to love the feeling that started under my
balls that I would be coming in 20 seconds or so.  The feeling is magnified
(though thankfully not shortened) when instead of a hand being the thing
being fucked it's an arse.  And when the arse is a boy's arse it's
magnified even more.  And when the boy is gorgeously pretty like Joe
... aaaah! ... I came and came ... and came ... I fell onto him, kissing
his sexy little mouth.  His eyes remained closed, though his lips did not.
Tongues lashed as my cock dribbled out its last.  Joe pulled away.
"Thanks, Cunliffe, that was ace.  Come on MacDonald.  I'm red hot."

I rolled over and Dugald took my place.  These two had fucked every day for
a fortnight, so they were used to each other's needs.  This was the first
time that Dugald's cock had encountered an arse full of spunk, however, so
the extra lube was new to their fucking.  After a couple of minutes - Joe
still blissfully on his back, his knees out of the way, his eyes closed -
Dugald said "this isn't working.  Push it out, Joe."  Joe pushed and a
great dollop of my spunk trickled down his arse crack.  "The best place for
that," I said, feeling I still had proprietorial rights over my ejected
ejaculate, "is spread all over his cock and balls."  Dan turned to me and
whispered, "you're weird, Dab, you're really kinky."  I whispered back, "I
take it that's a compliment."  He nodded, and I decided that anointing the
genitalia of my Pup with my semen was something which would happen at the
earliest private opportunity we had.

Dugald gathered what he could and applied it to the parts recommended.
Joe's cock twitched - it liked being anointed - and it twitched a lot more
when Dugald rammed his cock back in hard.  "Mmm, that's better," murmured
Joe, "now let's see some action."

Dugald was quicker than I - maybe that how they both liked it - and only 6
or 7 minutes passed before he groaned, "here, Joe, aaah!" and thrust in as
deep as he could.  "Oh yesss!" cried Joe, turned on by the intensity of his
Trainer's orgasm, but still not having yet come himself.  His cock had been
rigid for nearly half an hour during which he'd been fucked hard, and his
arse filled with spunk twice - but he hadn't come.

"Out you get, MacDonald, he needs my mighty inches," said the modest Dan.
Dugald and I, old hands, and old hands recently come, lay back to watch
what we both expected would be a memorable performance.

Joe put his legs down.  Dan got on the bed and lay down beside him, his
cock pointing vertically up from his black hairless belly.  They had done
this before, for Joe squatted over Dan, facing him, and lowered his leaking
arsehole onto Dan's cock.  Dan held his cock steady, his foreskin fully
retracted while Joe slowly lowered himself onto it.  "Fuck," breathed
Dugald, "that's so hot."


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The fun continues in Chapter 13 as Dan and Joe continue to amaze us.  The
story is, of course, fiction.

Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped
nifty a few quid.
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