Date: Sat, 11 Apr 2020 14:45:30 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Last of the Line Chapter 52 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 52 John's piss, hot and forceful, soaked my body. My cock responded as it had learned to do in this place, and grew, it felt to me, inches longer and harder than it had been. I knew that this was foolish, for my cock was no greater in length nor girth than it was wont to be when a boy's body was to be enjoyed, but the imagination confers blessings which are not real. "Stop," I said, "keep some for later." He managed to stop the flow after a second or two and knelt closer. "In your mouth, Seth?" I shook my head. "Later, John, for I want to taste your cock as it delivers everything, but not yet. Let me allow the excitement to build." I reached up and drew him down onto me. Our lips met and our tongues played the merry game for which, I am sure, they must have been designed. We chew our food and the many divers tastes excite our senses, and our tongues play their part in this, but the joy our tongues bring to every fibre of our being (not least our cocks!) when they weave and dance with another's tongue is wondrous indeed. So John's tongue and mine busied themselves, bringing delight to us both, while my arms enfolded him and my hands caressed his smooth skin. Our bellies were awash with his piss, our cocks pressing hard against each other's, our minds aware that soon we should mount even higher peaks of pleasure. John was in no hurry, and neither was I. The universe stopped while we kissed. But his weight, light though he was, pressed on my bladder and I knew that the time had come when I could hold in my piss no longer. "I need to piss. Kneel and let me enter." Quick as a flash John was in position, his arse in the air, his legs apart, his grin telling me that the moment for his pleasure was come. "I am prepared, Seth, you have no need to delay." I felt his arse with a finger and I found he was very wet and slippery inside. "Put in in," he urged, "if you are bursting I want to feel it forcing out of you, Seth. I need you." Such talk stirred me to greater heights of urgency and I forced my cock in hard. "Aaah!" he moaned, "that is good. I love it hard and fierce." I had feared from his moan that I might have been unthinkingly violent, but if I had been it was no more than John desired. "Now let it out. Fill me," he whispered. My bladder began to relax and piss began, very gradually, to pour from my cock. Deep inside the 14-year-old my piss laved the soft wet walls of his arse, enlivening the myriad nerves and bearing messages of delight to his brain. Gradually the flow strengthened, and soon I was pissing as forcefully as I could remember. John's moans were unceasing, interspersed occasionally with meaningless words of encouragement - "yes", "aah!", "it's so hot", and more. Very soon the quantity of piss inside him was too great for his body to contain and as I pissed more that piss already inside him poured out and flowed onto my belly and down my legs. A mere few months ago before my time with Luke here such a situation would have been unimaginable, but now I was so enamoured of piss play that the feeling brought me close to spending. Close, but not too close, for I knew that I would fuck the boy hard as soon as my bladder had emptied. It was my intention - shared, I was sure, with the boy - that the first fuck would be hard and urgent, whereas the second would be slow, tender and (I allowed myself to think the word) loving. At last the flow of piss ceased. "Pull out, Seth, and let it soak us both, for if you fuck my with my arse full of piss you will not come." This was good advice which I heeded: the quantity of piss which flew from his arse was prodigious. "Push it in again and fuck me hard, Seth. Make me yours." Fucking him from behind, like an animal, was not my favourite position, but I was willing to allow him to dictate how our first spunkings were to be accomplished. In I went and I clasped him round the waist with my left hand; my right clasped his cock, hard and wet with my piss and, I did not doubt, his own piss and precum. "Aah," he sighed as my hand took hold of his hardness, "wank me, Seth, for I am red hot and will spunk in a trice." I did not wish him to come so swiftly, for I had learned that when a boy - or indeed a man - comes his arse tightens and if there should be a cock inside his arse then the cock is squeezed most delightfully the while. If I could arrange it that he came a few seconds before I reached my peak then my peak should be even more rewarding. All this took a second to enter my mind, and it spurred me to even faster and deeper plunging. I felt no need to restrain myself from making sounds - if one cannot fuck noisily in a brothel where can one? - and I grunted each time my belly pressed against his arse as my cock strove to bury itself even more deeply. Very soon I knew that I was close. My right hand went to work and John's moans became more intense. "Yes, Seth, yes, yes," and suddenly his cock jerked in my hand and I could feel his spunk pulsing out. His arse clenched tight and my cock was almost sucked more deeply into his velvet cavern. Two more hard thrusts saw me at my destination and my cock, like the boy's, spunked several shots of white joy. A climax in that position is not one conducive to immediate relaxation - that would come later - and as my weight bore upon him he sank onto his belly. "Mmm, you're good," he murmured, "but you're heavy too." Five minutes later we had turned on the spray and washed most of the piss from us. Dried, we lay on the bed, John in my arms. He looked in my eyes. "I still need to piss." "Kneel over me and let me drink your nectar then," I said, for I knew I wanted nothing more at that point than to take everything that came from his cock into my mouth and my stomach. "I will not spill a drip provided you do not flood me with it." He grinned. "I shall not let you spill a drop." I drank everything he had. When he had finished he turned and took my cock in his mouth. "Suck mine," he said. This was a new entertainment - he gave it a name, 69, explaining that we were coupled as the two numbers, each nestling at the other's cock - and one which I found very pleasing. I have described our tongues pleasuring each other; the pleasure a tongue brings to a recently-spent cock when the owner of that cock's tongue is similarly busy with the other's cock is also a wondrous feeling, the more so as the feelings are tender and not immediately directed to another spending. We rested a while afterwards. John's head was on my chest and I stroked his face. He sighed happily. "This is nice, Seth. You are gentle, and you were fierce earlier when that was what I needed. Not many gentlemen are able to turn from hot passion to warm tenderness." He looked up at me, happiness in his face. I smiled down at him. "Not many boys are so easy to be tender with, John, for when they have spunked as often as not they have no interest in tenderness. With them it is all heat and lust - and very fine that is - but they do not find out that lying as you are now in a man's arms is very pleasing too." He murmured something which I could not catch. "What did you say?" He was silent for many seconds. "I did not mean you to hear, Seth, for what I said was really only for my own ears. But ... " (he paused again, weighing up whether he should voice his secret feelings) "I have not felt like this before with other gentlemen." "How many other gentlemen have you been with, John? You are but 14, so it cannot be very many." He looked up at me again, a serious look on his face this time. "I will tell you the truth, Seth. You are the only gentleman I have been with - no, let me finish - you are the only gentle man. What you are doing now, holding me, stroking me, talking to me as though we were familiar friends - these are things no other patron has done. The Master keeps records of what each of us does, and I know from him that I have been fucked by 37 patrons since the first one nigh on three months ago. Understand that I enjoy being fucked, though many patrons care not for my feelings, being interested only in spending in a young boy. You alone are keen to give me as much pleasure as my body gives you." He was silent, fearing perhaps that he had said too much in opening his feelings to me. I too was silent, for the feeling of tenderness I had towards him was in danger of becoming something more, and of that I was wary. I held him and continued stroking his face. "I think that must be because I like you, John. I would not be here, in bed with you, if I did not like the idea of fucking a boy of your years, and the pissing games we have played have taught me that time spent with you us very precious. But if I am not like other patrons it is perhaps because I ... " and I found myself unable to finish. Had I gone on to say what was really in my mind I should have risked doing terrible damage to the boy. Had I told him that I was find of him - nay, Seth, be a man, say what you are afraid of saying - had I told him that I was close to thinking I could love him, could care for him (as well as fuck him, and all the things that we had done, and would do), and then risen from the bed when my time with him was up, not to see him again - think of what he would feel. Think what I would feel. Suddenly I was in a turmoil. By some strange chance it was at that moment that John's hand strayed down and stroked my cock, softly resting against my thigh. The spell was broken: troublesome thoughts banished, at least for a time. "It is time for me to be gentle with you," he whispered, "lie still and let me explore you, Seth, for I need to know every inch of you." He wriggled free from my arms and, kneeling over me, took my arms and placed them above my head. "Do not move them. I am in charge now," and he smiled a strange smile, part sad, part tender. "Close your eyes," he whispered, and when I did so he bent forward and gently kissed my eyelids. This had an effect on my cock, and a greater, though hidden, one in a different part of my body. John spent a long time in bringing me close to spunking again. His lips and his fingers stroked all parts of my body, darting about so that each new sensation was a surprise. It must have been fully 15 minutes before any part of him touched any sexual part of me - but during those minutes, though he never touched my cock, or my balls, or my arse, my cock was full of heat and by the time his lips finally took it in it was as hard as I could remember. He tongued me briefly then - my eyes were still closed - I felt him move up the bed. I heard him whisper very close to my ear. "I want you to come in my mouth, for your spunk is very precious to me." I smiled, "I shall, John, and then soon after I shall wish for your spunk in my mouth, and for the same reason." He moved back down the bed and I gave myself over to the mounting pleasure he was giving me. If Henry had instructed him in the skills he was using then Henry was a fine teacher. His tongue traced a path between my arse cheeks, lapping hungrily at my arsehole. I felt him pour a little oil on, and his fingers probed easily into me. Had Luke told him that I had been fisted? Surely the Master's records would show that I enjoyed such treatment. Three fingers had sought entry and I uttered just one word. "More." "Fist?" I nodded, "yes, John." John's arm brought me to such intense heights that I cannot describe the feeling. As his arm probed deeper and deeper he bent his head over my cock and began to apply his tongue as urgently as his hand was working its magic hidden so far in me. My balls had been throbbing fir many minutes and suddenly I knew that the moment was upon me. My hands clasped the boy's head as though to ensure that he could not detach himself from my urgent need to spunk in his mouth. My cock knew, and my head knew, that this was earnestly - urgently - desired by both of us, but my foolish hands were not as trusting. And in the height of my passion, in the overwhelming joy if my release I knew, and knew that it was true, that I loved this boy. Why I cannot say, nor can I explain how the notion came to me. Did that make me come harder? Did it make the pulses of my cock seem to endure for hours, rather than a few seconds? I have asked myself these questions many times, yet never found an answer. A few minutes after I had come I took his cock in my mouth and used every fibre of my being, and all the skills upon which I could call, to deliver him of as wonderful a spunking in my mouth as he had drawn from me. We lay together again, man and boy, each spent, each entirely content, he smiling as he stroked my chest, his fingers making circles round my nipples, I in a turmoil of thoughts. Part of me wanted to sweep him up and carry him off on my white charger to live with me for ever. A more earth-bound part of me knew that such a deed would be utterly foolish, for it is very easy to confuse the `love' that one feels while one is in a sexual frenzy with true `love'. Moreover while I could persuade myself that I loved - or might well love - John there was little to suggest that he might feel the same for me. It was true he had waxed enthusiastic about my gentleness, but that was a far cry from a declaration of undying love. No, Seth, you must say nothing, I decided. The boy must not be shown a glimpse of a future he cannot have. "It is time I went, John," I said about a thousand years later. He sighed; a sound which tore my heart. "Shall you come again?" he asked softly. "I leave Stoke tomorrow. I know not when I shall be back, but I hope it will not be many months. I have spent the happiest hours of my life here, and I shall never forget them." We rose from the bed and I put on my clothes. John put on a robe. "I will bid you farewell here, Seth," he said, and I could see his eyes bright with unshed tears. Painful though it was I knew I was doing the right thing - the kind thing - for John. I kissed him. "Be happy, John," I whispered, "and here is something to remember me." I put two sovereigns in his hand. "Do not tell the Master." I left quickly before his tears became evident. ***** For several days after my return home I was in a dark place. Were my feelings for John real? or were they merely a passing foolishness while lying with a warm boy in my arms? There was no-one to whom I could turn for counsel, for Amos and Arthur knew only the reality of their own feelings for each other and, as I had been told many times, their attraction was never in doubt to the other. Besides, I told myself, each of them was 20 and more when they had met. While I was of that age John was not, and surely, I told myself, that must make a difference. If I truly did love him - and I was not even certain of that - what then? If he said he loved me could I draw him away from his employ? Would the Master not cavil at losing so useful an earner? And I spirited him away what then? Assuredly he would be welcome by Amos and Arthur, but what would he do between bouts of fucking - nay, Seth, call it love-making - in my - our - bed? And if he laughed and said that while he enjoyed being fucked by me (and pissed on, and being sucked: yes, Seth, torture yourself with all the pleasures you shared), he no more loved me that he loved the Master: what then, Seth? Would you torture yourself with constant remembrance of your folly? As I say, for several days I mooned about hither and thither in my mind, finding no resolution. One minute I resolved to go on the morrow to Stoke, the next I saw the folly of it, the next I wrestled with myself: folly? what folly? can it be folly to declare love for another? Yes, Seth, if the one loved merely laughs. ***** It must have been ten days or so since my return from Stoke that a letter came from the owner of one of the businesses I had been to see, and in whom we proposed to make a significant investment. I found myself unable to go there, so I asked Amos if he would go in my stead. "You go, for a fresh pair of eyes may see something I had not; besides if we are to invest it is good that the owner knows both of us." So Amos rode off after lunch, saying that he would make use of his visit to see others I had spoken of. No sooner was he gone than Arthur came and stood behind me, rubbing my shoulders. "You are vexed, Seth, and you have been so since Stoke. What happened there? It surely can't be business else you would not have sent Amos so quickly." I sagged in my chair. "Oh Arthur, I am torn in two." Half an hour later I had told him everything - yes, everything - about the Master's establishment, about the boys, about what delights they had shared with me, even about the commission I should earn were I to introduce a patron. Arthur listened, asking only the occasional question. Then, when I had done, he said that the way seemed clear enough to him. "Why so, Arthur, for it is misty to me?" "That is because I am outside the tangle in which you are enmeshed, Seth, and can see where to begin to unpick the strands; you are inside and see only darkness where the tangle obstructs your vision." "You must introduce me to this Master of yours, and two things will happen. You will receive whatever the Master gives by way of commission, and I will receive the services of Henry. It is very simple." "But will Amos not object? Do you and he ... fuck others apart from me? And why Henry?" "Seth, you ask so many questions. Amos will not object because from time to time each of us does indeed take our pleasures elsewhere - always away from home and always without secrecy or deception. Sometimes when I have to go into Lincolnshire I visit inns where lads are free with their time and their arses. Amos does the same. Did you not know?" I shook my head - innocent that I was I had fancied myself to be the only adventurous member of the family. "And how can I discover what John's feelings are without asking him, and that I cannot do. but if he is as long in the chops as you have been these ten days then his brother will have drilled the cause from him. All I have to do is engage Henry and, while we are recovering ourselves for the second assault, I shall engage him somehow. Now, what steps do we have to take?" ***** Two days later Amos had returned very satisfied with his business in Stoke. "The potter is very keen to expand his business as you said, Seth, and he and I have agreed to invest double the sum he discussed with you. We shall have a half share in the business." I said I was glad that the second pair of eyes had been so far-seeing. Arthur and I had agreed that it should be he who told Amos about our need to go that very day to Stoke. That conversation took place privately, but it was clear from Amos's expression that Arthur had told him most of the story. (I hoped that certain details had been kept from him.) "Good luck, my boy," he said as we rode off. He had not called me 'my boy' since I had come to live with them, and it affected me greatly. "Bless you, Father." "And you, Arthur, you rascal, good luck to you too!" "He knows then?" "He knows. We have no secrets. Tell me of this Henry of yours - what skills should I anticipate?" We arranged to sleep at the usual place, taking two rooms. It seemed very strange. At nine o'clock Arthur and I walked to the little door and I knocked. "Gilead," I said. "Gomorrah." =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 53 as I earn the Master's commission. Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped nifty a few quid. ===============================================================================