Date: Sat, 16 Jan 2021 20:45:58 +0000
From: Vance Von Jungsburg <vereinington@protonmail.com>
Subject: Peter Number Two (Gay/Adult-Youth)

The following story is fictional. None of the events or characters are
real. Please do not read if you are under 18 or if the content is illegal
in your jurisdiction.

If you liked the story or want to comment about it or anything else,
contact me at vereinington@protonmail.com.

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authors section under Vance Von Jungsburg.

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PETER NUMBER TWO

by Vance Von Jungsburg

"Peter?' Carolyne knocked softly on my open office door. "The boys don't
feel comfortable having a woman measure them. Will you do it?"

I took a deep breath, as if what I was just asked to do was an
imposition, but my insides were screaming with joy.

"Sure. No problem," I answered, expelling the air from my lungs. "I
assume they're all here?"

"All except Jack... of course," Carolyne explained. "I think he's in
fencing training right now. It's just the Lost Boys." She took the
measuring tape hanging around her neck and handed it to me.

I hurried down the steps from the backstage offices toward the sewing and
fitting rooms one floor below. Six boys in bathrobes and two mothers in
street clothes were sitting on folding chairs near the entrance to the
large costuming department. Two weeks earlier, when rehearsals had begun,
each boy had a parent or guardian accompanying him at all times, but as
the days wore on the stage mothers had divided the work and were taking
turns watching multiple boys. In another week or so, it would probably be
down to one adult guardian for all six boys.

"Hi Peter," said Kieran, an outgoing 13-year-old with thick dark hair
that came down to just above his eyes.

"Hello," I answered in a tone like I was ready to get down to business. I
looked at my clipboard. "Let's start with Noah." I motioned to the wiry
12-year-old with porcelain white skin and black hair to follow me.

On the left side of the sewing room were several costuming booths
separated by thick curtains from the main area. I chose the closest one
and closed the curtains behind Noah and me.

"Carolyne explained how this works, right?"

"Uh-huh," the boy grunted.

Placing my hands on the his shoulders, I positioned him in the middle of
the booth, then sat on a padded stool in front of him.

"Will you take off the robe?" It was an order more than a question.

Noah opened the white terrycloth robe and let it fall to the floor behind
him. I suppressed a gasp. I knew he'd be clad only in a dance belt, but
seeing the well-put-together boy inches from my face in the revealing
flesh-colored undergarment eclipsed all the times I'd visualized Noah
this way when I was designing his costume. A dance belt is specially
designed garment similar to thong underwear, with a single string going
up the crack of the ass on the rear and a front pouch with slight padding
which disguises the topography of the genitals and adds a bit of volume
to the package. When worn under tights, it shows the smooth panty-free
ass of the dancer and a respectable bulge at the front.

I'd been furnished with photos of the front, side and back view of each
member of the cast as an aid to conceptualizing and designing the
costumes for this all new production of "Peter Pan," but the boys had
been wearing lycra dance shorts in the pictures. Now, Noah's uncovered
ass was displayed in the three-way dressing mirror behind him. I was
happy that I had worn my loose corduroy trousers today, as they had
enough room to hide my growing appreciation of the 12-year-old's
physique.

"Raise your arms to each side," I instructed. I would start measuring at
the top and work my way toward his intimate parts as Noah got more
comfortable with the process. I started measuring and making notations:
head size, neck width, arm length and thickness at at elbow and wrist,
chest width and girth, upper torso diameter, width across the shoulder
blades, and so on down his body. Noah's skin was warm and silky smooth,
but I could feel his tense dancer's musculature beneath the soft skin. I
breathed deep, but not so deep that the boy could tell that I was trying
to inhale his distinctive tween scent. It reminded me slightly of vanilla
wafers.

When I got to Noah's legs, I measured from the outside hip to the ankle.
I knew the boy had long legs, but I was surprised at how long they were
compared to his torso.

"Julie picked you specifically because of your long legs," I told Noah.
Julie was the creator, director and co-writer of this re-imagining of the
Peter Pan story. She had returned to Broadway after a decade in Hollywood
trying to recreate her stage success on the big screen with mixed
results. The irony of having a costume designer on the production named
Peter was not lost on Julie, who called me "Peter number two."

"Yeah, I'm supposed to be like a deer or a gazelle," Noah said.

I rubbed the length of his left leg from his ankle to mid-thigh. "I
know," I said. "I had that in mind when I was designing your costume."

Noah was at that stage where his face was still boyish and his narrow
trunk was like that of a prepubescent child, but his arms and legs had
started growing at an accelerated pace, giving him a long, lanky
appearance. In a normal boy, this might lead to a gangly awkwardness, but
Noah's body moved with a graceful elegance.

By now I'd measured almost every part of Noah, but still had to find out
the dimensions of his inseam, ankles and feet.  The inseam was the most
intimate place I would be exploring - I held the measuring tape at his
inner ankle and measured up the inside of his leg until I reached his
crotch.  My thumb and forefinger pressed into the soft rounded pouch of
his dance belt, I knew his two balls were nestled in the lower part of
the pouch with his penis pointing up toward his belly; my fingers were
pressed up against his baby-makers as I tried to get his accurate
dimensions. I held my hand at his crotch a little longer than necessary,
finally relenting and moving on to measure his ankles and feet.

And then the process was over. Sitting on the stool in front of Noah, my
face was level with his mounded crotch. I looked up at him and realized
this was the view I would have if I were giving him a blow job. Noah's
dark hair fell over his forehead and freckles splayed across his cheeks
as he looked down at me. I resisted the urge.

"Ok, will you call in Chris?" I asked. Noah put on his robe and left.

I measured Chris and his twin brother Carson, two 14-year-olds with
compact, muscular bodies and chestnut hair that fell over their neck and
ears in gentle curls. I don't know if I was imagining it, but Carson
seemed to have a larger protrusion at the front of his dance belt than
his brother.  Either these twins weren't identical, or Carson had
augmented his boyhood with a little extra padding. I felt both boy's
pouches, but wasn't able to determine if Carson's was stuffed.

After the twins, I measured Marcus, a tall black 13-year old. At almost
six feet, he was two inches taller than me, but his young boy features
and rail-thin body would never be mistaken for an adult. He giggled when
I touched his balls as I measured his inseam.

After Marcus, I took the measurements of the youngest Lost Boy,
11-year-old Leo, an undersized kid with a low, velvety voice. He was a
good six inches shorter than any of the other boys, but shared the same
lean dancer's build.

My final survey of the day would be Kieran, the friendly 13-year-old
who'd greeted me by name earlier. Kieran was my secret favorite; when I'd
been sent the photos of the six Lost Boys in dance shorts, Kieran's
picture set had impressed me with its subtle eroticism. Maybe it was the
way he looked at the camera with his ice blue eyes, or the positioning of
his legs and ass in the pictures, but I felt a gentle excitement growing
in me knowing I would be working with this gorgeous boy. Sitting at my
computer looking at his pictures, I imagined him slowly pulling down his
dance shorts to reveal an erect boy cock. I jerked off fantasizing about
him.

And now, Kieran stood before me wearing nothing but a dance belt to
obscure his beauty. His dark, smooth hair had been cut straight across
just above his eyes, but the sides and back were longer, It was an odd
hairstyle for a boy in 2021, but it worked on him, enhancing his features
and giving him a slight air of impishness.

The kid's body, which I'd spent a prolonged time studying in his photos,
was even more seductive in the flesh. His boyish proportions were
complemented by a lean musculature and flawless skin. His enticing ass
was on full display in the mirror behind him.

I wrapped the tape measure around the boy's chest.  Kieran looked at me
and asked "Have you measured Jack yet?"

Jack was the star of the show, an accomplished actor, singer and dancer,
known for his leading role on a hit Netflix series.  This production of
"Peter Pan" had practically been built around the talented 14-year-old
boy. Normally the lead role went to a petite woman, but Julie had opted
to cast an actual boy, one who had the chops and stage presence to carry
a show like this.

"Not yet," I answered. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know... just curious..." Kieran followed his comment with a
slight laugh, betraying something beyond his answer, as if he was privy
to an inside joke.

"Come on," I demanded. "What's up?"

After a moment of hesitation, Kieran went on. "I just want to see your
face when you measure his cock."

I felt my face flash with the shock of the titillating comment, then
composed myself.

"Well, first, I don't measure cocks. And.."

Kieran interrupted me. "You don't? I thought that was part of it!"

The boy could tell by my expression that I was surprised by this
statement.

"Wow," Kieran said. "When I was getting measured for 'Newsies' the
costumer had to measure our dick size."

I was acquanted with the costume designer on that production. I made a
mental note to give him a call. "Well, it's not part of my process," I
explained.

"Hmm."

I don't know if I was imagining it, but I sensed a little disappointment
in Kieran's voice.

"And why would I be surprised if I measured Jack's penis?" I dug deeper.

"Because... it's huge!" Keiran answered as if he'd just given away a plot
spoiler.

I needed to know more. This conversation had already gone places that
could get me barred from Broadway, but Kieran's gossipy banter reminded
me of the conversations gay guys had among themselves after a couple
glasses of wine. Bawdy and explicit, the talk was designed to provoke and
arouse.

"How do you know this?" I probed. From his expression I knew Kieran was
dying to answer.

"Cause I gave him a blow job. Well... blow jobs," Kieran admitted. "After
rehearsal last week he invited me to the apartment him and his mom are
staying at."

From my experience in theatre I knew that at least half of male dancers
are gay, so it shouldn't have been a surprise that Kieran and Jack hooked
up.

"I didn't know Jack was gay," I said.

"Oh, he's not." Kieran said. "I guess you could could say... I seduced
him?"

"I guess you could," I replied. Again I was thankful I was wearing loose
corduroy trousers.

"Well, how big is he?" I had to know.

Kieran held his hands about seven inches apart. My eyes widened.

"Impressive," I told Kieran.

I continued taking measurements while Kieran chattered. He told me about
Jack's apartment on East 88th, Jack's collection of selfies with
celebrities and the way Jack panted when his dick was in Kieran's mouth.

When I got to Kieran's inseam I pressed my hand against the boy's ball
sack with a little more force than needed while I measured.  Kieran
looked down at me with a half smile and pressed his groin into my hand.

The signals were unmistakeable. I felt like I was standing at the edge of
a high dive platform. I could either take the scary plunge or back down
the steps with regret. But no one ever backs down the steps.

I moved my hand up the front of Kieran's dance belt until I felt the
hard, straight length of the boy's cock, confined to the pouch and
pointing up toward his belly.

I took the measuring tape and held it against the vertical protuberance.
"Five inches," I said, looking Kieran in the eyes.

The boy smiled down at me and chuckled, then stuck his fingers in the
waist strap of his dance belt. I knew what was coming.

Kieran pulled the brief garment down to his thighs. His hard cock, freed
from the confines of its well-designed concealment, pointed straight at
my face. He had a few dark curls above his cock, but the rest of his body
appeared hairless.

I grabbed his buttocks and pulled him into my mouth. The warm length of
his boyhood was easy to take down to the root as my nose pressed against
his lower abdomen. We had to be hasty and quiet, so I determined to get
the kid off quickly. My tongue, throat and lips worked in concert to
administer maximal pleasure. Kieran put his hands on my head as I allowed
him to set the rhthym, pumping in and out at an increasing pace as the
erotic feelings built up. I knew he wouldn't last long. After less than
two minutes I felt his cockhead expand, then deposit his sweet, salty
cream deep in my mouth. Kieran's thrusts corresponded with the pulsing
discharges of his cock. I swallowed, then pulled him deep into my mouth
and held him there for a few more seconds. Kieran withdrew his cock, pink
and wet with saliva.

"That's the best blowjob I've ever had!" the boy enthused in a husky
whisper. He reached for my groin.

"Not now," I had to admonish, We'd already been in the costuming booth
twice as long as any of the others.

Kieran looked disappointed.

"Another time," I said. " I promise."

Kieran smiled and nodded as he reached for his robe.

"Oh, yeah..." he said, pulling his iPhone out of the robe pocket. He
scrolled through it then held it up for me to see.

It was a photo of a naked young teen lying on bed taken from an angle
between his legs. The boyish hand of the picture-taker was wrapped around
the cock of the reclining kid. His erection looked out of proportion and
enormous on the thin, muscular body. The picture was cut off just below
the chin. I knew Jack was too clever to let his face appear in a lewd
photo.

"Oh, God!" I said. "You were right." I knew I would have to wear my loose
corduroy trousers the day I measured Jack.

I gave Kieran a peck on the lips and we left the booth to rejoin the
other Lost Boys.


END