Date: Sat, 14 Sep 2019 07:46:23 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Last of the Line Last of the Line by badboi666 =============================================================================== 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 =============================================================================== Chapter 3 "If this is going to work," I said, "you're going to have to let me show you what to do." "How do you mean? Don't I just stick it in?" Oh dear, I thought, this is going to require tact. "No, Morry. The point of it is that each of us enjoys it. If you just stick it in, as you put it, it'll hurt me and if it hurts me I'm not going to be too keen to let you try again, am I?" "Yeah, sorry. OK, you get to be in charge. But don't fucking let on, will you." "No Morry, I'm not stupid," and as a sign of my lack of stupidity I leant forward and kissed his lips - very chaste, no tongues, just a kiss of peace. Plenty of time for tongues later. "I'll do everything to you that you should do to me, but I'll stop at the moment when a cock goes in. Maybe you'll let me fuck you one day, but today you're going to fuck me." Morry nodded, and for once I let his silence pass uncommented-on. "The best way for a beginner is when the boy being fucked is on his hands and knees. That's what we'll do this time. Maybe we'll move on to a better position another time." Morry wasn't about to seek an explanation of why he wasn't being allowed to do it the best way first - he was far too keen to get on with enjoying his first fuck. "Get on your hands and knees then," I said, and adjusted him into the right position. "Now your arse is bone dry, isn't it?" "Of course." "If we were fucking regularly I'd have put grease in my arse already, but since neither of us is greased -" "What d'you mean grease? Not real grease surely?" I explained about the many and varied kinds of lubricative liquids available at all good shops. "You're joking!" "Yes, but you can buy lube in any sex shop. I've got some." (By then, in 2032, there was no longer any difficulty in buying lube and sex toys generally. After the Moral Crusade of a few years earlier had fizzled out all the sex shops which had been closed down reappeared and you could buy most stuff without much difficulty. Naturally a 13-year-old couldn't go in - you had to be, or at least look as though you might be, 16. Rivers did my buying for me and parcels arrived as I needed them.) I went on, "but if we hadn't got any lube this is the next best thing," and as I was already behind him I merely knelt and licked his arse. He jumped. "Fuck, what are you doing, Dab?" "I'm licking your arse, Morry, or at least I'm trying to. Now keep still and enjoy it." I parted his gorgeous arse cheeks and saw for the first time his rosebud. Not too hairy, I was glad to note - in fact, hardly hairy at all (unlike his balls and a thick patch above his cock). I licked along his perineum and was pleased that he twitched as my tongue teased his pucker. "Got to get you good and wet, Morry," I murmured, "I hope you're memorizing everything I do." "Mmm. I like what you're doing, Dab," he whispered. I did it a lot more. After a few minutes I got on my back under his body, with my head under his balls. They got the benefit of my tongue for a while, and each ball spent time in my mouth being gently rolled about. "Oh fuck," moaned Morry, which I took to be encouragement rather than a direct instruction. Next I moved an inch or two up and got as much of his cock as I could in my mouth. I knew that he'd not last long when, as he put it, he stuck it in, so I wanted as much lubrication in all the right places as possible, "Right," I said, "time to swop. Lick my arse and get me good and wet." He seemed reluctant. "Are you clean? I don't want a mouthful of shit." "Did I ask if you were clean? Did it occur to you to tell me you were? No, I thought not. I'm clean, but even if I wasn't that's a risk you run fucking strange boys. I hope we can trust each other to be clean if we're going to do this a lot more." I was worried I might have overstepped a line, but Morry seemed not be bothered. Little Morry (quite big Morry, actually) was intent on being stuck in, so perhaps Morry's mind wasn't too critical of the cheekiness of the Pup. The Pup knelt. Morry got behind and pulled the Pup's cheeks apart. "Pretty little arse you've got, Dab," he said quietly. "You can kiss it if you like, before you get me nice and wet." I heard a chuckle, but two seconds later I felt lips on mine. And a few seconds after that I felt his tongue rather gingerly start to venture along the path set out for it. Three minutes of licking was all Morry was inclined to give me. "Can I stick it in yet?" "No, I'm dry inside. Get a finger wet with lube and put it in - gently at first." "Are you sure?" "Oh, Morry, trust me - I know what I'm doing. Go on, get a finger up me." "All the way?" "All the way. Slowly though." I heard him getting the lube open and getting a finger well-covered and I felt it touch my lips rather tentatively. "Ah yes," I moaned in what I hoped he would interpret as the heat of lust, "put it in." Rather to Morry's surprised it slipped in easily. He didn't know the importance of my pushing at that stage. "There's shit up there!" he cried, "I can feel a lump." "No, that's not shit, that's part of me. Rub it." I don't think he was convinced, but at least he rubbed it and my reaction told him that whatever the lump was it had produced an effect. "Christ! What happened?" "I'll tell you later. Now get that big fat cock of yours where it belongs. Stick it in, Morry and push as hard as you can. Fill my little Pup arse." Who could resist? Not Morry. In it went. I resolved that next time more fingers might be invited in, but as I knew Morry wouldn't be in there for long I wasn't too troubled. "In as far as you can, Morry," I panted, "now reach round and hold my cock with one hand and grip me round the belly with the other." When we were both in position I whispered, "OK, Morry, fuck the daylights out of me, and wank me at the same time." The fuck was fast and furious - I like fast and furious sometimes, as I'm sure we all do - and I was pleasantly surprised that it lasted about a minute. "Oh ... oh ... of fuck, here it ... aaaah!" I don't know how long it had been since Morry had come (I hadn't been asked to wank him for almost three days, and I didn't know whether he performed the necessary by himself any more) but the strength of the pulses of spunk coating the inside of my arse was pretty intense. "Wow! Morry, I felt six big squirts. Now keep it up there and wank me hard." In his excitement he had forgotten to wank me - merely holding my cock as he might have held a handle while energetically pumping. "Yeah, sorry," he breathed. It's nice being wanked from behind when someone's just filled your arse and his cock's still up there, and it took only half a minute before I was shooting onto Morry's bed. "You've done it on my sheets, you little fucker," he growled. I told him not to worry. It wouldn't stay there long, I knew, and any vestige would dry by the time his bed was put to the purpose for which the school had provided it. "When it slips out I'll clench my arse as tight as I can. You tell me where you want the spunk. You've got about 20 seconds to decide and you've got three choices. On your sheets along with mine; in your mouth; or wasted - criminally wasted - in your bog. Choose." His cock slipped out; I clenched; he thought. "Oh fuck, Dab, I don't know. You choose." How pleasing to be so trusted, I thought, and turned on my back. Pulling my knees as close to my ears as I could (and with my pool of spunk strategically close to where anything which leaked from my arse would trickle, I said, "you come and suck it out. You can swallow, or we can share if you get a mouthful and kiss me." "Christ! you are the kinkiest, most perverted Pup ever," he said. I smiled, taking his remark, as I'm sure it was intended, as a compliment. "Yes," I whispered, "now let's get on with it, Morry." It took him about ten seconds to decide that he liked what he was being asked to do. It took him about ten minutes to be confident that he'd captured everything which had, only quarter of an hour earlier, been in his balls. Half of it was back in his stomach and half in mine. "Don't forget what I did," I murmured as his harvesting was complete. Like a pup himself, he licked it up obediently. "Not sharing this, Dab," he said quietly, before swallowing and engaging in another prolonged, but no longer spunk-swopping, smoochy kiss. "I think you have the makings of a very fine fucker, Morry," I said, "but naturally you need a great deal more practice." He grinned. "Yes, teacher." ***** You mustn't think that Morris Cohen, fly half and demon spin bowler, was the only boy with whom I shared my sexual energies: he was merely the boy with whom they were spent most frequently. Pups slept four to a small dormitory, and whereas public and, as I have said, unashamed wanking took place at my prep school, here things were rather different. Or they were initially. It seemed that sleeping arrangements had been made after the Pups chosen had been chosen by the Prefects, for all four of us in Canning and the four in Goderich all had a Prefect to serve, while the four in Walpole did not. The significance of this didn't become clear for some time. Our first night in Canning was a time which saw all four of us behaving rather warily. I wondered if like me, the other three had already endured - or, I hoped, enjoyed - their first intimate contact with their Trainer, but I wasn't going to be the first to raise the question. It was pleasing to see that none of the other three, all of whom had been to prep school, showed any modesty as we undressed for showers. Cocks were on display, though not flaunted. I noted that all four pairs of eyes took in the details of what lay before them. Archer had the biggest cock - a good 6 inches soft (as we all were at that moment) - and he clearly felt that this gave him not only bragging rights, but the obligation to take the lead in what followed. I will spare you the precise form of his speech, which was modelled on a style of schoolboy story current fully 100 years earlier, peppered with `you chaps' and `golly gosh' and other such things. His parents must have read Dornford Yates to him as a little boy. What Archer said (tidied up) was "I don't intend to waste this cock by letting it lie idle in bed. If any of you don't approve of wanking you'd better close your eyes." Six eyes remained wide open, and Archer grinned. "That's good," he said, "and I'll go a step further. Mine's so big when it's stiff that I could use a bit of help. Anyone interested?" Life was looking up, as were four cocks. Archer's remained the largest, at a little over 7 inches (we measured them all the following night, rulers not having been thought a useful adjunct to the dormitory that first night), with Aitken a close second (almost 7), me third and Bottomley mustering only 5. This didn't seem to bother Bottomley however. Aitken announced that he would be willing to render assistance to Aitken "and to anyone else, come to that" if the assistance were reciprocated. My resolve to appear pure and above such smutty matters, having collapsed under Cohen's influence, was now rendered nugatory among my peers. "It looks like we were all happy wankers at prep school," I said, and the other three agreed. We got into bed - our own, and on our own (it was the first night, after all) - and it was clear that none of us was going to waste time before enjoying the first orgasm of our time together. I was about to propose that we did what we were about to do in view of all the others when Aitken said, "why don't we get on top of our beds, then we can all see who comes the hardest." This met with universal approval, and the happy and unashamed wanking I had enjoyed so much at prep school was established as the norm now. Archer got going quickly. "I don't think I'll squirt much," he said, "because my Teacher, Johnson, made me wank for him this afternoon." This produced grins from the other two, as it was a pleasure evidently that all Pups had experienced. "Me too," I said, "Cohen and I did it as well. What about you two?" Cameron had been wanked by Aitken and Brown by Bottomley. "Do you think they planned it?" said Bottomley. "I expect it's what always happens," said Aitken, "and I'm not complaining." Four beds were creaking as four cocks were taken on their journey. Conversation dried up as we concentrated on what was in hand. Creaking accelerated. Then "Aaah" from Bottomley as a surprisingly large quantity of spunk shot from his cock high up onto his chest. "Wow!" muttered Aitken from the next bed, "that's a lot more than I do. Is that really the second today?" "Yeah," sighed Bottomley happily, it now being clearer why the size of his cock didn't worry him, "I cum lots." So, moments later, did Archer, again up onto his chest. As soon as he had finished Bottomley went to stand beside Archer, spunk still glistening on both their chests. "I want to lick it off," said Bottomley, "but if you don't want me to, that's fine - I won't ask again." He turned to Aitken and to me. "I'll lick yours up too. I love cum." I was nearly there, but I found the energy to groan that I too was a keen cum drinker. At that moment my cock pulsed and my chest too was streaked with the product of four hours' worth of my balls' hard work. "Oh fuck, that's hot," muttered Archer as Bottomley knelt on his bed and gathered everything up with his tongue. "You can have mine if you like," said Bottomley between licks, but Archer wasn't interested. "Come over here," I said, and we'll have each others'." Archer found himself bereft of company and Bottomley and I quickly settled into a quasi-69 mutual licking session. After the spunk had disappeared Bottomley looked at me and I looked at him. Each of us must have given a tiny nod at the same time because each of us moved several inches up the other one's body and mouths and cocks joined. "Fucking hell," said Archer, "you're a pair of queers." "Three," said Aitken, "but don't you think it's really four? Hasn't what you did with Johnson made you a bit queer as well? Only in here with us, of course." Archer nodded. "I suppose so. But not a word outside this room." We all agreed. Aitken and Archer still had cum-coated chests. I hadn't noticed Aitken coming as Bottomley and I had been busy at the time. I had Aitken's as Bottomley had had Archer's. Back in my own bed I composed myself for sleep. So many orgasms, and I'd been there for less than 12 hours. ***** The pattern of my first weeks had become established. During my free time I would be ready to service Cohen, and at night the four of us would do what any healthy 13-year-old would be doing. School life also involved lessons, and that was where a third tier of activity would soon appear. Although Maths remained my favourite subject I was now learning Physics and Chemistry, as well as familiar subjects from prep school. I had an aptitude for the sciences, and I soon discovered that at least one of the masters had an interest in his new charges which went rather beyond a professional desire to instruct them in the properties of electricity. We were paired off for practical experiments, and I was told to work with a rather nice blond boy called Cavendish. He and I got along well, neither of us holding the other back, and although he was in a different house from me a friendship developed. I rather fancied him, but since my dance card was already well-filled I didn't make any advance on him. After about a month, when he and I were trying to work out a tedious experiment with a potentiometer I saw the Physics master - one Prendergast - approach. "Having difficulty, gentlemen?" he said quietly. Cavendish was quicker off the mark than I - perhaps there had been an earlier approach? - and "yes, Sir," he said, "I think we need some help." Help came in the strange form of Prendergast patting my arm and moving the thing (I never could remember its name) up and down the potentiometer until the ammeter did whatever it was supposed to. "There," he said, "that's how it's done." Had that been all it would not have been worthy of note, but Prendergast continued to hold my arm. His other hand moved to hold Cavendish's. Cavendish blushed. "Not here, Sir, not in front of Cunliffe," he muttered. "Oh come, Cavendish, can't you tell? Cunliffe is as wicked as you are." He turned to me, Cavendish's paw still clasped. "Isn't that so, Cunliffe?" I should explain that the junior physics lab was rather a large room, and the next pair engaged upon extracting meaning from their potentiometer experiment were several yards away, and Prendergast's hands (and Cavendish's) were out of sight. It seemed that Prendergast and Cavendish had already moved somewhat beyond the pupil-teacher stage. I had no strong view about Prendergast, who was probably around 30, and without visible deformity, but the blond Cavendish was male and 13, and ticked my box (as we used to say) very nicely. If Prendergast was hinting at the possibility of a fuck I wasn't going to turn it away. "Sir, may I speak freely?" I said. "Of course, Cunliffe, but perhaps quietly as well." "I think Cavendish and I would benefit from some special help." I bent and whispered so that Cavendish couldn't hear - if I was to be hanged then why not for a sheep? - "fuck potentiometers, but if you want to fuck me ..." Nothing needed to be added. Prendergast stood up. "That's enough, Cunliffe. See me at the end of the lesson. You too, Cavendish, " and he went off to see what other experimenters were up to. "What did you say to him?" asked Cavendish. "Before I tell you, let me ask you something. Are you and he up to no good?" Cavendish blushed again - he was very sexy-looking when he blushed, I decided. "What d'you mean?" "Oh come off it, you know what I mean. He fancies us. Is he fucking you?" The blush deepened, and I felt a stirring down below. "Look, Cavendish, he fancies you, he fancies me, I fancy you, we're both 13 and I've got a fucking hard-on just talking about it. What I said was that if he wanted to fuck me I was up for it." "You didn't!" "Not in as many words, but he certainly got the message." "But he stormed off and he's cross. He wants to see us." "Yes, and I bet that he tells us to see him in his room later, and when he sees us it will be us, not our clothes." "You're mad, Cunliffe." I agreed that it was so. "Does he fuck you?" Cavendish grinned. Cavendish nodded. I noted that Cavendish's trousers required adjustment. We returned to our potentiometer, our failure to make it do anything no longer important. Out of sight under the bench each of us satisfied himself that the other's cock responded well to being felt. The lesson eventually ended, the potentiometer's secrets having failed to vouchsafe themselves to us, and as everyone else filed out Cavendish and I approached Prendergast. He closed the door. "You are wicked, wicked boys," he said. I could only agree, and as his pronouncement was made by a man who was smiling at our wickedness I could only conclude that our wickedness was about to be enjoyed by Mr Prendergast. "See me in my room at 4 o'clock. Cavendish, there is no need for Cunliffe to remain in ignorance of what might befall him there. Now go." Once we were safely in a place where we could confer without being overheard I turned to Cavendish. "You heard him - so tell me, what have you and he done?" Cavendish, blond devil that he was, grinned. "His brother teaches at my prep school and Steve - that's the brother - has been fucking me since I was 11. During my last term Steve asked me if I'd like to meet his brother - Prendergast - because he was a teacher here. 'It might be fun for you, Piers,' he said. I loved what Steve and I did, and I'd known it couldn't go on after I left, so I rather jumped at the idea. Prendergast came the following weekend and, well, you can guess." "I can, but it's much hotter if you tell me." "Steve got me all hot and ready, like he always did - you know, fingers, tongue, all that stuff -" He looked at me to see whether I was up to speed with the techniques being described. "Yeah, I know how it works. I've been fucked a few times too. Go on." "Well, Steve fucked me and Prendergast - he told me to call him Sir - stripped off and watched. After Steve had finished Sir said he wanted to fuck me right after, and was I happy with that. I must have gurgled something - I know I'd come while Steve was busy up my arse - so Sir was in there like a ferret in a rabbit-hole. You'll see it later, but Sir's cock is quite something - a good bit bigger than Steve's." "Music to my ears, Cavendish, or perhaps Piers, if we're going to work together. I'm Dab, by the way." And like all well-bred boys of our class we shook hands on being introduced, as it were. "Am I going to enjoy Sir's attentions, do you think?" I asked my new companion. "Depends, Dab. Have you had 10 inches before?" I had not. Guy and Rivers were well provided for, but neither reached double figures. My cock (and as I discovered a few seconds later, Piers's as well) was beginning to anticipate its tea-time exercise. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 4 as Prendergast introduces himself. The story is, of course, fiction. Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped nifty a few quid. ===============================================================================