Date: Thu, 19 Sep 2019 19:20:30 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Last of the Line Chapter 4 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 4 I knew that if I went back to the House after lunch that Morry might trap me into an activity which would be likely to mean that my performance with Prendergast would be less vigorous than either of us would wish. If Prendergast had made the suggestion he had, then to favour him with balls less than fully topped up would not be clever. But a gentleman does not go to an assignation unless he is fresh, and Cavendish - Piers - hadn't said that Prendergast liked them sweaty. We agreed (for Piers was in the same bind as I vis-a-vis pupdom) that we would go for a swim, thus ensuring nice clean boys for Prendergast's greater delight. And so, at the appointed hour, two 13-year-olds, clean, wise beyond their years, knocked on Prendergast's door. "Come in, come in," he said gleefully, pointing to the sofa. "I imagine Cavendish had told you what might be expected of you, Cunliffe." "Yes, sir. I've been looking forward to it all afternoon. He didn't know what you would want to do with me, but if it's the same as you do with him then I'm ready." I paused: nothing like good timing, after all. "Sir, may I say something". "Of course, my boy." "Cavendish has told me about the size of your cock. I've been fucked by two men before coming here, and neither of them was as big as you. I think a cock as big as yours will fill me so full that I'll explode - with ecstasy, that is." Prendergast seemed pleased that he had enticed a boy so fired up with lust as I. "Good. I'm sure you won't be disappointed. Cavendish, take him into the bedroom and make yourselves ready." Off we went, Piers leading the way. As soon as we were there he shut the door. "Strip off, Dab, and get on the bed. I don't know what he'll want to do, but if we're both lying there like a couple of whores he'll tell us soon enough. He's never done it with more than one boy - not with me anyway." "Are you up for whatever he wants?" I asked. "Oh yes. He fucks me and we suck each other. He hasn't tried anything else." You must remember that I was still only 13, and whereas Guy and Rivers - my only adult partners - had fucked me many times, nothing beyond what we would call plain vanilla had happened. So the range of available flavours of a more exotic nature was still uncharted - unknown, indeed - territory. It would not remain so for long. Prendergast appeared after a minute or two, his eyes lighting on the naked erect forms of two hairless boys lying together on their backs invitingly. "Well now," he said, rubbing his hands, "that is a treat and no mistake." Sixty seconds later our physics master was before us, naked and erect (startlingly so, despite its size being no longer a secret). "I'm going to fuck you, Cunliffe, but that will be the climax of the entertainment. Much will happen before then. Turn round, Cavendish, and 69 with him. Do not come, just suck each other's cock." This was easy, I thought, and I relaxed as Piers put his lips round my cock, and I mine round his. He was good at it, and after less than a minute we both broke off as orgasms weren't far off. "About to come, are we?" said Prendergast. Piers nodded. "Why don't you fuck him, Cavendish, and get him ready for me." As I was already on my back I decided that if I stayed like that Piers would have to fuck me in the way I liked most, and with any luck Prendergast would do the same and I would get the full value of the 10 inches on offer. So I lifted my knees and got them beside my ears. "An experienced boy you have there, Cavendish." I grinned. "Yes, sir, experienced and willing to learn." I lifted my arse off the bed as best I could. "Get me wet, Piers," I whispered. Piers knew what he was about, I'm glad to say, and he was bathing my arse crack with his tongue before the words were out of my mouth. I twitched and moaned encouragingly, "oh fuck, yes," and Prendergast laughed. "We've found a good playmate, Cavendish. Try a finger or two. I'm sure Cunliffe would welcome them." "Yeah," I whispered, "go for it." Piers had no fear of finding unwelcome matter up my arse, and the only lump he encountered was the one we both hoped would be located. "Yeah," I whispered again. He rubbed and I twitched again. "Can I cum, sir?" "Try not to, but if you can't stop tell me. I want to see you do it on your belly." This wasn't unexpected as it was how most of the cums I'd shared at prep school had been delivered. Would he lick it up, I wondered. Piers was bloody good at what he was doing, and once he had three fingers in I was away in dreamland. My hand were caressing his blond head and I was murmuring all kinds of rubbish about my feelings, both for him and for what he was doing. "I can't ... Sir, it's coming ... aaaah!" and a gratifyingly good four hard jets of Cunliffe's best landed on me. "Fuck him, Cavendish, fuck him now." Piers's fingers were whipped out and his cock slipped in. It felt so hot in there - much hotter than his fingers. He fucked me hard and fast - like me he hadn't mastered the art of holding back - and it was only a few minutes before he gasped and groaned, "nearly there." "Pull out and do it on his belly," demanded Prendergast. I felt sorry for Piers: it's far nicer finishing the fuck where you are and coating the inside of the arse with your spunk, even though pulling out and letting it fly in the open air is spectacular. Cavendish added greatly to the cooling spunk on my belly. "Off you get, Cavendish," said Prendergast, settling himself beside me and eyeing the feast only inches from his lips. He bent and began to lick my body. To my surprise he didn't go for the cum initially - it was my left nipple which engaged his interest. No-one had done anything to my nipples before, and I was rather surprised to find that I liked it a lot. My hands went to his head and I murmured how much I liked what he was doing. I won't describe the whole process, but after the other nipple he went straight for my cock, taking the whole thing in (not a vast challenge) and swirling round enough to get my balls to add a few more drops. Then, and only then, did his tongue travel lightly to the cooling pool of nectar - Piers's and mine - glistening on my belly. "This is the best part," he said quietly. He made a very thorough job of getting every last morsel. "Now, Cunliffe, you are about to have your reward." I grinned, raising my knees and my arse again. "Do it slowly, sir, I want to enjoy every inch." "No, Cunliffe, it's 2032 now. You'll enjoy every centimetre - there are more of them to enjoy." The tip of his cock touched my engorged arse lips and I pushed out. In he slipped with a satisfied "aah!" and the slow hot indescribable delight of not 10 inches, but 25 centimetres gradually disappearing into me began. Prendergast put his arms round my shoulders, almost lifting me off the bed as his cock went further and further into me. As I've said, Guy and Rivers had fucked me many times, but the knowledge that Prendergast was going at least a couple of inches further made even the familiar first 8 inches a lot more thrilling than anything I'd had up me before. "Oh fuck, that's so hot," I moaned, "fill me up, fuck me and fill me with spunk, sir." In ordinary circumstances I'm sure Prendergast would have rebuked me for such utterances, but when you've got 8 inches of your cock up a red-hot red-haired 13-year-old, with 2 more inches to go, the circumstances are not ordinary. Prendergast allowed himself a smile and the briefest of replies. "Yes, you little slut, take the lot," and banged the magic last couple of inches in. I wasn't too happy about the slut bit, but it was a small price to pay for the body-consuming heat of the invading inches. I could get used to this, I thought. Prophetic words, as it turned out. Prendergast had had innumerable boys in his bed being subjected to his inches, and kept it going for a long time. It must have been 20 minutes or so before he accelerated and the pounding became heavy. "Oh God, yes," I groaned, "fill me, I know you're there." He was, and he did. Eight pulses and when he pulled out suddenly Piers was onto his cock like a starving man. This was clearly part of their usual practice. Piers cleaned Prendergast nicely. "Thank you," said Prendergast, "now perhaps you'd attend to Cunliffe's arse." When the two of us left, half an hour later after we'd showered in Prendergast's bathroom, we compared notes. Piers had not before had the pleasure of watching Prendergast's cock in action, but nothing else had been new. "Did you enjoy it?" he asked. "Loved every minute, and every inch too. Do you suppose he'll want it again?" "Certainly. He's been fucking me every other day since term started, so I expect we'll be regulars from now on." "Good. You and I ought to get it on now and again, just the two of us. I liked it when we 69'd and when you fucked me. But I'd like it more if I felt your spunk shooting up my arse." Piers grinned. "I'd prefer it too, and I'd like you to fuck me." We agreed that we would both think about how and where such activities could be arranged. It wouldn't be easy as we were in different Houses. ***** Piers and I managed several times to meet that term, and very satisfying they were. You will want to know that by the end of that first term we somehow managed to work out the secrets of the potentiometer: secrets which, from that day to this, have never been of the slightest use to me. I cannot speak for Piers who, when he left school, went to university to read Engineering. No doubt the potentiometer has been more useful to him. What with Piers and Morry by day, and the three sinners with whom I slept at night, being a Pup was never boring. Prendergast was not the only master with whom I spent intimate hours. When he saw how keen (and experienced) I was he persuaded me (it took little effort on his part) that I might enjoy the company of his colleague, Fagan, the chapel organist. Honesty compels me to record that Fagan enjoyed my company more than I his. I recall that Fagan waxed lyrical about my arse, praising its qualities and its accommodating nature in particular. Fagan was quite a bit older than any of the other men who had been in there - he would not have seen 40 again - but he had a pleasingly large cock and donkey's years of experience of using it to bring boys to a state of gibbering lust with its girth. He came buckets, always a plus with me. By the end of my first term I was ready for four weeks of rest and recuperation. Only Rivers remained on the menu - or so I thought. It was good to be back in Rivers's bed after a term away. He was fascinated by the new things I had learned at the hands - and not just the hands - of so many new partners. "Tell me about them, Dab," he said quietly as we recovered from his first fuck of the holidays. I decided to spin things out. "Well, there were two masters - neither of them as good as you, by the way. One's longer and one's thicker, but you're better at it than either of them. Maybe it's because you're a lot younger," and I turned to give him a kiss. It turned into a rather longer and more exciting kiss than I'd initially intended, and when I felt his cock hardening again against my thigh I broke off to disappear under the bedclothes to apply my lips to it. "Oh fuck, Dab," he groaned, "I love it when you suck my cock." "Mmm," I went, and continued with my task. We both knew that I was only too happy for him to come in my mouth, so although he didn't warn me I could tell from his writhing that protein was on its way. I swirled my tongue round his swollen cock head and was rewarded for my trouble. On most days I'd have scooted up the bed, but this was the first day of the holidays and I wanted it all to myself. There would be plenty of opportunities for sharing later. Rivers's cum tasted quite different from the other mouthfuls of spunk I'd enjoyed since his last slipped past my tonsils. Prendergast and Fagan had both been bitter and although I'd enjoyed sucking their cocks I hadn't much liked what they produced. Morry's had been best - thick and a bit salty. I suppose it was because he was 17 that he produced a good load every time. Mind you, Bottomley's was always the biggest. As I lay beside Rivers, now pretty much out of it after two cums in 20 minutes, I allowed myself to wonder idly about the quantity Bottomley might conjure up when he was 17. Only four years to wait, Dab! Archer and Aitken were like me - our spunk was sweetish. It won't surprise you to learn that all four of us in Canning had swallowed each other's spunk dozens of times. On the other hand it probably will surprise you to know that fucking had been a fairly rare occurrence in Canning. Archer, confident in his 7 inches that he held droit de seigneur, at least within the walls of Canning, announced that he would fuck any of us who would volunteer. Bottomley and I stepped manfully forward. Aitken remained in his bed. "Whom shall I service first?" said Archer, mindful of the good grammar rammed into him in his expensive prep school. Bottomley and I looked at each other. A cruel impulse made me say, "smallest first," but I was immediately made to regret it. "Small-er, Cunliffe," said Archer. "Fuck you, Archer," I retorted, but again he got the better of me. "No, I'll fuck Bottomley. I shall fuck you tomorrow." I retreated to Aitken's bed. "May I join you?" I asked politely. "Come on in," said Aitken, "just because I don't want to be fucked doesn't mean I don't want a sexy boy in bed with me." I grinned, and wriggled in beside him - warm, naked, hard, just like me. I held his cock and he held mine. "Let's watch these disgusting queers," he whispered, "we may learn something." While I rather doubted this I was a good guest and forbore from comment. I squeezed his cock. It began to harden. I turned to my host. "You can fuck me if you like." "I may just do that, Cunliffe, but not tonight. Archer has to be up there first." A conspiratorial grin was shared. Bottomley lay on his back on his bed, his arse enticingly exposed for Archer's inspection. As all four of us knew exactly what was what in the being-fucked department Archer spent time on the essential preliminaries. "I wish Johnson weren't as hairy as he is. Your arse is smooth as silk, Bottomley, so's mine and I want to keep it that way." All four of us felt the same, but we knew that Nature would so arrange matters that hair would grow where it wasn't wanted. A bit above our cocks would be fine, and Archer and Aitken already boasted a little growth, but on our arse - no. At 13 the idea of shaving didn't occur to us. Archer went on to lick Bottomley's crack, Bottomley sighing happily the while. Aitken and I were feeling very hot by this time, but before I could make any suggestion about how we might deal with what was happening he whispered, "after he's cum we can do each other, but let's watch." "OK." I wondered what 'doing each other' might mean, but I knew I wouldn't have long to wait. Once Archer started he wouldn't last long. "Come on, Archer, get it in," muttered Bottomley, "I'm ready. I need to be fucked." Archer smiled and did as he was invited. It slipped in remarkably easily (Bottomley confessed to being greased at all times, "Steve made sure I was well-prepared") and Archer went into full-on fuck mode. (If I slip forward a few years to tell you that when he and I were 17 Archer fucked me for over an hour you will understand just how much Archer learned about self-control during our time at school.) Bottomley grabbed him round the waist and pulled all 7 inches in. Alas, they didn't stay long. Less than a minute passed before Archer groaned deeply and unloaded into Bottomley. "Oh fuck," he moaned, "I felt red hot lava coming out of your cock - Cunliffe, you'll love this tomorrow!" Archer didn't hang about. One of the other things he'd learn (at whose hands we never discovered) was post-fuck etiquette. His technique wasn't quite whip-it-in-whip-it-out-and-wipe-it, but nevertheless left a great deal to be desired. It was left to Aitken or me to deal with what still remained, and I was quicker. Leaving Aitken's cock to look after itself for a few minutes I was down at Bottomley's arse hoovering up the goodies, then up at Bottomley's cock to seek delivery of what he had to offer. "Oh fuck, Cunliffe, yes ... yessss ... aaah!" and delivery was made. Quick kiss - lips only at that stage - back to Aitken in 69 mode - he sucked me off - I sucked him off - satisfaction all round. Back in my own bed - oddly, we slept chastely that first term - I smacked my lips and reminded Archer that I expected a great deal more from him that Bottomley had been granted. "If you can't keep it up for 5 minutes then tomorrow's is the only fuck you'll get from me, big boy." As I indicated earlier, further fucks from Archer were enjoyed by both of us over the years. The first one lasted 8 minutes, so honour was satisfied. So was Archer; so was I. ***** But I am in bed with Rivers, and we are talking. How had Rivers passed the time since I had last graced his bed, I asked. "Well, I have news for you, Dab. Your mother has decided to employ a boy to help Jorrocks in the garden. He says he's too old to do some of the work, so Mr Dunstable got a boy from the village, although that's not exactly true." Get to the point, I thought - the idea of a boy had possibilities. "Dunstable asked me if I knew of a family in the village with a boy who might do. I immediately thought of the Wilkins boy, you know, at the shop." I nodded. The Wilkins family were well-known and I'd seen at least two boys helping their father. "Which one?" "Billy - the 14-year-old. He can't start officially until he's 15 in January, but when he leaves school in a few days' time he's going to start unofficially." (Such employment would have been impossible before I was born, but things had become so bad during the 20s that children could - in many cases, were obliged to - leave school at 15. National service in the Army and so on was compulsory from age 16, but an astute boy who wanted to avoid being fired at by fanatical chaps overseas - and there were plenty of those at that time, believe me - could opt for some form of land-service at 15. The upside of this - apart from not adding the bodies in foreign fields (or being blown to bits, and thus not being a body at all) - was that after four years you could get on with the rest of your life. Estates like ours counted, as technically the boy was employed in growing food of some kind. I imagined that Jorrocks would give him some responsibility in the vegetable garden to satisfy the Inspectors of Labour. All this passed over my head at the time of course. I would spend many moments later in life thanking my lucky stars that I was born into the family I was.) "Does Billy offer anything beyond gardening skills?" Rivers grinned. "That's up to you, Dab. What I can tell you is that he's worth pursuing. If you can charm him into bed then this bed's available to you both. The only rent I ask is that sometimes I get to play too. Deal?" "Deal. When do I get to meet him?" "He's been told to come to Jorrocks on Saturday morning." Jorrocks was a married man with a large brood, and so unlikely to have any interest in Wilkins beyond the boy's gardening skills. I told Rivers that the matter could be left to me, and that I would keep him informed. "Very good, your lordship," said Rivers gravely. I didn't like using the courtesy title, but in the circumstances of being naked beside the man using it I didn't object. I wouldn't accede to the earldom for another few weeks. You will wish to hear about the seduction of Billy Wilkins, which went well. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 5 as Billy Wilkins yields to my advances. The story is, of course, fiction. Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped nifty a few quid. ===============================================================================