WARNING: This story contains sexually explicit parts involving sex between minors and adults. Do not read the contents if it will offend you. If accessing this story causes you to break local laws (village, town, city, county, province, state, or country, etc.), please leave now.

 

Any characters portrayed in this story are fictional and not representative of anyone living or dead.

 

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The Angel of Pie Jesu.

 

By John T. S. Teller.

 

Part 45.

 

Book two: Journey of the Coin.

 

 

Gareth. 23rd April... four and a half months after Gareth and Aleric first met.

I look up from my laptop and across the aisle of the business class seats of the British Airways flight to Tokyo when Pete Sawyer, my director of operations, UK branch, asks, "Has Townshend been in touch with you?"

 

I don't answer him until the waitress serves me a single malt and Pete a coffee, places them in front of us with a delicious smile, asks if there's anything else we need, and when we both answer in the negative, leaves us and goes forward to wherever her perch is. "He's spoken to Helena, but not to me. Too many things going on at the moment. The boys are attending singing lessons three times a week with Frau Müller now their Dad's out of hospital. Why do you ask?"

 

"Just wondering. How's their Dad doing?"

 

"He's doing great. As you know, the operation was a success, but he has a few months of physio before he'll be well enough to walk properly. It's April now, so probably around July or August, Frank Neumann says." I grin at Andy. "He's like a cat on hot bricks. Gretel says she's going to throw his walking frame away if he doesn't get more rest. He walks around... well, shuffles around the table for ten minutes at a time until she makes him sit down."

 

"He's lucky he's walking again," Andy says.

 

I nod. "He is. But he's also unlucky. He could have had this op years ago, but they said he was inoperable."

 

"And what now?"

 

"They've got that house by the Wannsee. It's gone through now. They could move in there in early May, but I've told them to stay put in the bottom apartment until Ralf is walking properly. They can go down at weekends and sort things, and when he's walking properly and they know things are alright, they can move in permanently."

 

"And what about you and Aleric?"

 

I scowl at him. "What about me and Aleric?"

 

Andy stares at me. "Gareth, we've known each other for a long time."

 

"So?"

 

"So don't treat me like a fool. If you don't want to talk about it, then fine, I'll respect that, but if you can't trust me by now, then maybe I should go and work for somebody else."

 

**********

 

Pete's words hit home. I'm in love with a fourteen year old boy; living with him; having sex with him almost every night, and although we've both managed to put on a front that I'm just his mentor, there's no way I can keep it a secret from those who are closest to me. My PS, Helena, has already worked it out, and now my best work pal has too. This trip to Tokyo came at a cost.

 

***********

 

It was at the end of March that I first mentioned to Aleric that I needed to fly out to Japan on the 23rd of April, but I had to fly to the UK on the 20th. He went crazy for a couple days, and he didn't pull the punches when he reminded me that I'd promised that I would give up travelling to be with him. That night he slept in the bottom apartment with his family and I spent a horrible night thinking we were going to go through all that shit we'd had before when I got to Schönefeld Airport and almost left him for good, and the time when he painted himself. But this time I was prepared. I'd talked it all over with Kurt before telling Aleric that the trip to Japan was definitely in the `must do' bracket because it was so important. Kurt reminded me of what we discussed when I phoned him and told him about the fucking spirit that was bugging us, and that if I wasn't to let that thing back into our lives then I had to be top dog in our affair. That's what got me through it. That and the fact that the Hahn family were beginning to get back to some semblance of normality.

 

We got the boys into the school and they actually like it there. Kurt did the initial carrying them to and fetching them from school, and when the Bentley was repaired I managed to do a bit of fetching and carrying myself. That did their street cred no harm at school, especially because, at first, they were called country bumpkins by some of the crueller kids who laughed at their northern accent. But wealth is a great leveller, and given that `my boys' and Hans wore clothes that most of the other kids could only dream of, and had phones and games consoles and play equipment that left most of the others in their wake, and because their `uncle Gareth' was a billionaire, the tables were soon turned, and it became fun, especially when Gottwin and Aleric reminded me often about the girls who were fawning over them.

 

They weren't joking either. After four months in Berlin, the boys know their way around. Gottwin especially! He's had dates with three girls, and because the twins share most things, he arranged for a double date so Aleric could go with him and his last girlfriend to the cinema together. At first Aleric wouldn't go, and it took a lot of persuasion from me to get him to go. Naturally, I got the "You're trying to get rid of me", and questions such as, "Won't you be jealous that I might be kissing somebody else", which I waved away with a, "Not at all. If you manage to go the whole way then I might get an early night." I paid the price for my generosity of spirit. That night when he came home and slept with me, he refused to tell me what had gone on when I asked him if he'd got his end away. All I got was sniggers and "I'm a little tired tonight. Do you mind if we go to sleep?" So I wrapped him in my arms, gave him a soft kiss, and pretended to go to sleep. Within five minutes he was giggling like mad and it took me an hour to satisfy his insatiable, sexual appetite. Then we giggled ourselves to sleep. But not until he'd revealed to me that the girl Gottwin was going with couldn't keep her hands out of Gottwin's jeans and that he'd come home with his underpants all soaked and sticky.

 

That's how it's been until I told him I was going to Japan. After the cold shoulder of the first night, and after I'd eaten dinner with the Hahns on the following evening, I asked Aleric if he would go for a walk in the Tiergarten with me. He looked through the window and said that it was raining. Then he looked at his watch and said it was eight o'clock and too late. When I said "Okay. I'll go for a drink on my own," he gave me a nasty look, and said, "We'll take an umbrella!"

 

It was raining; a soft drizzle, and it was not too warm either. We were both dressed for the weather, but after ten minutes of walking silently through the park, Aleric came close, linked his arm through mine, and said, "I'm cold."

 

I stopped, gave him the umbrella, tucked his scarf tighter around his neck, pulled the zip of his bomber jacket a little higher and pulled the sheepskin collar higher, and it didn't pass my attention that he was wearing his favourite scarf: my best one. Then I took the umbrella from him, wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and he slipped his arm about my waist... our favourite, loving, walking posture. When we kissed behind the loving stone, his face was wet with tears. That's when we made up, and later that night, in my bed, we made up even more. And we talked. Long into the night, actually. There was a lot to talk about, and not only were we best friends again, my boy was a little more grown up. But he struck a hard bargain. For my `discretions', I had to promise to take him to Wales in the summer holidays.

 

*********

 

"What are you grinning at?" Pete asks me.

 

My train of thoughts broken, I smile at him, and reply, "Nothing. Just thinking." I take a nibble at my whisky, replace the glass on the table beside me, and look directly at him. "Does it bother you?"

 

"Aleric you mean?"

 

I nod. "Yes... Aleric and me."

 

Pete shrugs his shoulders. "I'm a bit mixed up with it. Don't his parents object?"

 

I shake my head. "No. And before you ask, it's got nothing to do with how wealthy I am." Then I realize that Pete is not a fool, and neither am I, so I expand on that comment. "Well, not with Aleric and me. My wealth has a lot to do with all the peripherals, and what I've done for the family has been entirely my doing. But I wouldn't use my money to buy Aleric. If that's how it was then it wouldn't be happening. Or maybe it would, but that would mean Aleric and I were no different than a man and a paid boy. Would you like me to explain it all to you?"

 

Pete nods. "I think it would be best. I like you Gareth, I've always enjoyed working for you, and we have a great working relationship." He grins. "I'm no angel myself, and if the wife knew what I get up to while I'm travelling, she'd kick my arse and boot me through the door. Maybe she does, and maybe while the cat's away the mouse plays, but what we don't know doesn't bother us. When I get home we're fine. We actually do love each other. So I'm more than familiar with most things, but I have to admit that your situation is beyond my experience of these things. So explain."

 

Three whiskies later for me (and another double waiting), and two for Pete (and another double waiting), and he knows everything. Not the intimate stuff, but the situation. It's funny at times the faces he pulls and the raised eyebrows when I'm explaining that while he was out shagging everything in sight, I was actually working and had no interest in that which turned him on, and neither do I fancy any small boys wherever we go. I explain the special circumstances that have changed me from an almost frigid, selfish person, into someone who loves (leaving out the personal details again) a very special person who has come into my life, and by the time I'm finished, he also knows that this is not a one-sided affair. When I tell him about the arguments and fallings out that me and Aleric have had, he says, "He must be crazy about you."

 

I look at the double whisky in front of me, lift it and down it in one go, and because the whisky is hitting home, there are tears misting my eyes when I say, "He is, and I'm crazy about him. In fact, the whole lot is crazy, but there's nothing I can do about it, and nor do I want to do anything about it. I'm happier now than I've ever been in my life, so let the devil take the hindfuckingmost."

 

He chuckles. "That's the best tmesis I've heard in a long time."

 

I stare at him. "Tmesis? What are you on about?"

 

"You uneducated Welsh pleb sheepshagger. Look it up on Google! I'm going to get some sleep. I suggest you do the same." He looks at his watch. "Ten o'clock European time. Five in the morning in Tokyo. We've got eight hours of this flight left. We land at one, and there's a meeting at five. We'll be fresh and they'll be knackered after fretting all day about the hard deal you'll be striking. Sleep boyo. We'll win this one and I'll be shagging big time afterwards." He giggles. "I'll see if I can sort you out with something young to whet your appetite. Preferably something with trousers on."

 

I point a warning finger at him. "You do that, and while you're doing it, I'll make a note of every whore you've shagged on your travels and give it to your lady when we get back."

 

Pete laughs, presses the button for attention so we can get the seats set up so we can get some sleep, and I go to the bathroom while they're being sorted.

 

*********

 

We were at Heathrow the last time I spoke to my boy. The first words he said when I called him were, "You've been drinking."

 

"Uhuh. I've had a couple."

 

"Where are you exactly?"

 

"At Heathrow. Waiting to board the plane. Why do you want to know?"

 

"I won't be able to speak to you for hours so I need to know where you are at all times. What route does the plane go?"

 

"Over the top end of Russia."

 

"I didn't know the plane went that way."

 

"Which way did you think it would go?"

 

"Across Africa. What are you doing?"

 

"I'm talking to you."

 

He giggled. "You really think you're really funny, don't you!" Then he was serious. "I've been worried about you."

 

"Worried? What about?"

 

"The plane might crash."

 

"You mustn't think of those sorts of things. Flying is a thousand times safer than crossing the road. I'll be fine. What have you been doing since I spoke to you last?"

 

"More school. Then we're going for singing lessons tonight."

 

"If the mad butler lets you in."

 

Aleric giggled. "Yes. I had to thump Gotty to stop him imitating him while we were walking behind him last night. But we have a bit of a problem."

 

"What's that?"

 

"Frau Müller says Gotty's voice is breaking and he's going to have to learn how to do new stuff. She tried some new things and it worked out well in the end. In fact I think she was pleased. We've now got a range of three vocals, so she's making us harmonise. We had some fun with it. She had us singing Rossini's Duetto buffo di due gatti."

 

"What's that?"

 

Aleric started singing like a cat meowing. Then, when he'd finished and I was giggling so much because it was so funny, he said, "Did you like that?"

 

"Yes. It was really sexy! I'm not a cat lover, but I might become one if you were to tempt me with that when you're in heat."

 

Aleric chuckled. "I'll do it when you come home and then ignore you to pee you off."

 

"That will be the day."

 

"What will be the day?"

 

"The day you ignore me. I spend most of my time trying to keep you out of my underpants."

 

"It was you who started it if I remember correctly. You wanted to be in mine when we first met. You've got an underpants fetish. I'll sort you some dirty ones to take with you on your next trip."

 

"I don't do dirty underpants. You're thinking of somebody else."

 

Although I couldn't sense anger in Aleric's voice, I could feel sadness in it when he said, "Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. Sorry Gareth."

 

I realised my stupidity and tried to apologise. "No, it's me that should be sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."

 

"It's okay. Phone me as soon as you can."

 

Then he broke the call. So I texted him. ILY. I always will. ILY. Gxxxx

 

A couple of minutes later I got one back. Stay safe. I can't live without you. ILY. Axxxx

 

********** ********** *********** *********** **********

 

Aleric.

Now Gareth isn't here I've decided to sleep with Gottwin. I don't want to sleep alone. I hate sleeping alone. I lie back and think of Gareth high up the clouds flying away from me. It hurts. He left two days ago to go to his London office and sort some things with his associate, Pete Sawyer, before flying out today at six o'clock so they would be in Japan for six o'clock in the morning our time. But I'm wishing I hadn't made that last call. It was stupid of me to mention the dirty underpants. That was Herr Biermaier's dirty trick. Inadvertently, I'd brought him in from the past.

 

****************

 

Herr Biermaier. We never talk about him, but I can never forget him. How could I? He's the reason how I discovered what I am. Well, the sexual side of what I am. When it was happening I always told myself that I hated it... every bit of it, but that wouldn't be true. There were times when I was at school that I was looking forward to choir practice, and although I love to sing, it wasn't always the singing part I was looking forward to. I hated him, but I didn't always hate what we did. He was the first stranger to touch my pinkler, and when he did, I couldn't stop it going hard. In fact it was hard before he touched it.

 

I was sitting on his knee after everybody had gone and he was pretending to teach me how to reach some high notes. He'd been caressing the inside of my thighs while he was doing it and I was aware of how nice the feelings were. Then his fingers went higher, right inside my short trousers until he was rubbing his fingers over my pinkler that was hard inside my underpants. I remember I made a half-hearted effort to push his hand out. It was half-hearted because I didn't want him to do it, but it was so nice that I did want him to do it. Then his fingers were inside my underpants and he was wanking me off. I remember the exact moment when I surrendered to him. It was the words he spoke. It's okay Aleric. You'll be fine after this first time. All the boys are a bit nervous the first time. Just relax and enjoy it.

 

I did and I didn't. The feelings were lovely, but the guilt wasn't. I felt dirty. Then his words hit home. All the boys are a bit nervous the first time. I didn't dare ask the rest of the boys, but I assumed they all let Herr Biermaier do it. Why shouldn't they? Most were older than me and they knew more about sex than I did. Some of the older boys joked about the men in the audience wanking or sucking them off. So how did they know what it was like unless Herr Biermaier had shown them what it was like?

 

Sucking them off. That came a few weeks later. At Herr Biermaier's house. On his big sofa. My trousers and underpants were around my ankles and he sucked me off. Then he pulled my trousers and underpants right off and pushed my knees onto my chest and stuck his tongue right up my bum. I thought he was disgusting, but my pinkler didn't. It liked what he was doing and it went hard again. Then he sucked me off again. I cried that night in bed when Gottwin had gone to sleep, but then I wanked myself off thinking about Herr Biermaier's tongue up my bottom.

 

I told him that I didn't want to do it anymore. That's when he threw caution to the wind and threatened to expel me from the choir if I didn't let him do what he wanted. I wasn't a coward, but I loved singing more than I was disgusted with myself for letting him do things to me. So I let him.

 

He shoved a finger up me. Then two... then three. Then the butt plug he made me shove up my bum and which he fastened in with a long plaster before we had choir practice. Back to his house and he began trying to get his massive pinkler inside me. It wouldn't go in so he tongued my bum and sucked me off and then wanked himself off by my hole, and he used a larger butt plug the next time we had choir practice. That did the trick. Well, that and liberal amounts of lube on three fingers for fifteen minutes of probing. It went in this time... just the head of his massive pinkler, and he cummed inside me for the first time. That was my passport to celebrity status in the choir. I became his favourite soloist. But that came at a price, and the price was very expensive. Within the year he could get every bit of himself inside me, and it was no longer pleasant. And then along came Hansie and I was second billing in Herr Biermaier's eyes.

 

But Hansie isn't like me. I did it partly because I like sex, and mostly because I like to sing. It's the opposite way round with Hansie. But I can't blame Herr Biermaier for that. We are what we are, and Hansie is into masochism.

 

We are what we are. That would apply to Herr Baiermaier as well as us. Yes, he might like soiled underpants, but he's served a purpose. Without Herr Biermaier I would never have met Gareth, and neither would I have understood what we were to each other without I'd been introduced to the sexual aspect of what I am. That's why I didn't think properly when I mentioned to Gareth about the dirty underpants. Gareth was hurt by the remark, but to me it didn't mean anything. It's all in the past. Biermaier's abuse... dirty underpants... I'm not even interested now. Because of all that shit I've got the most beautiful person in the world, and he loves me for what I am and not for how I can pleasure him. Yes, he likes me pleasuring him, but that only happens within the confines of the deep love we have for each other. Fuck Biermaier! He's served his purpose and I hope he drops dead now.

 

**********************

 

We're both wearing shorts type pyjamas, and Gottwin is running his left hand up and down my naked thigh while I'm thinking, and it's having an effect on me, just as Herr Biermaier's hand did. I reach down and push his hand away, but it soon comes creeping back, higher this time, right at the top of my thigh and his fingers are touching my balls. I giggle and push his hand away again, but he giggles and puts it back. So I ask him, "What's up with you? Are you thinking about that Lydia you've been fucking?"

 

He chuckles. "I haven't fucked her yet, but I will before long. I've had my finger up and she likes that. I'll need some condoms. Ask Kurt to get me some."

 

"You ask him! He'll think they're for me if I ask him."

 

Gotty giggles again. "We can share them. I'll get us a double date again and then you can fuck Else. She can't wait to get in your pants."

 

"And how do you know that?"

 

"Lydia told me." He really giggles. "She's got a mad crush on you."

 

I chuckle. "Well she can fuck off! I might let her suck me off a couple of times while Gareth is away if I'm really desperate, but she can fuck her love stuff off."

 

Gotty's hand moves up and he plays with my hard pinkler, but this time I don't push his hand away. I grin to myself. I love my sexual fantasies, and tonight I'm eleven years old and I'm going to be molested by the old pervert choirmaster.

 

********** ********** ********** ********** **********

 

Herr Biermaier.

The weather forecast is that the run of bad weather we've had over the early months of this year is finally over. Thank goodness for that! When I came to Spain, I at least expected the weather to be reasonably nice, but we've had floods here in Velilla de San Esteban. In fact it began two days after Carlos last visited me, and I've never seen him since. There could be a number of reasons why he hasn't been, but I'm now hoping it was just the bad weather putting him off. I've looked for him and the older boy, Raul, when I was in the village, but never caught sight of them. Perhaps Carlos has told Raul what we got up to and they're both giving me a wide berth. Shit!

 

My house in Germany is sold... thank goodness. The money is in the bank. I'm wondering whether to move down south, to the more populated areas now I've hidden myself away for four months. If anything was going to happen to me for what I've been up to in the choir then it would have happened by now. I've had plenty of time to think about it, and after much reflection, I can count my lucky stars that it was that bastard fairy who eventually caught up with me. But I miss having sex with boys, and especially I miss my little Hansie. I've even toyed with the idea of going to Berlin to try and find him after I made a few enquiries and found out he's gone there, as have the Hahns. I've thought it through. I just know he would be pleased to see me. Nobody can sexually satisfy my Hansie like I can. I could rent an apartment, and if I found him, we could sneak off to it and have fun. I could find him. He's got to be going to school somewhere, so I could wait outside different schools until I spotted him, and then choose a convenient moment to contact him. I know how to get him worked up. Whenever I showed him photographs of us doing things together, particularly those with my spunk dripping from his lips, it always made him twice as randy. Even if he rejected me the first time, I know he wouldn't tell anybody, especially if I threatened to leave some of the spicy pictures of just him lying around for his friends to find. I know how he works. He'd go home and think about it, and very probably the next time I saw him he'd jump in the car like a shot. He wants what I can give him as much as I want what he can give me. God, I miss him!

 

**********

 

24th April. Late afternoon. I've spent most of the day getting out the good weather stuff and taking the cover off the pool. It's been hard work, so I take a shower, pour myself a glass of white, and sit inside, reading a book. I almost jump out of my skin when somebody taps on the patio windows. I look up, and there is Carlos standing by the patio doors with a big grin on his face. Bingo!

 

**********

 

The formality of reintroductions have long since gone and refreshments have disappeared into his little tummy when Carlos relaxes back on the sofa next to me and I point to the tiny bulge in his blue shorts and say, "Sol?"

 

He giggles and squirms. I giggle with him, and then point to the massive bulge in mine. Then he gives me a naughty look, and says, "Sol?"

 

I grin and nod, and then I slip my shorts off and fondle my erection. Carlos giggles and does the same. I'm not wearing a top, so I point to his. He gets the message and slips it off, and again I've got a naked and gorgeous elfin beside me playing with his stiff pinkler. But I do detect a slight difference in what he's doing this time. He's not wanking... he's playing. So I decide to play, not with myself, but with him. Not with his pinkler at first, but by laying a flat hand on his tummy and stroking the softness and warmth of him. His own actions on his pinkler lessens as my hand slides ever lower; nearer his erection, and when I finally reach it and take it from him, he doesn't object.

 

I don't know for sure, but this could be the first time a `foreign' hand has touched his genitals, and I know from experience that it's a very special moment when somebody else does it for you. Whatever sensations he felt before will be multiplied many times, and there are very few restrictions as to what is allowed once a boy has surrendered to the experience. That's why he allows me to push his slim legs apart and fondle his thighs and ballsac, and why he lets my exploring finger go down between his small orbs and almost to his sphincter. That's why he lets my experienced fingers play games with his shaft, and that's why he allows me to slide his foreskin off his pink, swollen knob. But most important of all, once I've rolled his foreskin back, he allows me to get off the sofa and go between his legs and place my eager lips over the bundle of sexual nerves that make up a boy. And when the expert Herr Biermaier knows that Carlos is mine to do as I will, I apply pressure to his legs to lift them up onto his tiny chest, pull his bum cheeks apart and insert my tongue into the tiny sphincter, playing with another bundle of nerves that he didn't know existed before this moment.

 

The rest is easy. Once I've taken him past the point of no return, I leave off rimming him, kneel before him rubbing my precum soaked knob on his tiny unprotected one, we both climax together, and even the sight and experience of having lots of hot spunk cascading onto his pinkler and balls and tummy isn't enough to stop him wailing with pleasure as the ultimate feelings spasm throughout his young body.

 

**********

 

I've cleaned us both up and Carlos, now dressed and sitting on the sheepskin rug in front of the sofa where I'm sitting, is giggling and chuckling when he nods madly as he eats his cookies and drinks his glass of lemonade when I pull funny faces and ask, "Sol! Muy bueno?"

 

The cheeky little man is indeed a cheeky little man now he's gained confidence, and when he half rolls over and grabs both his bum cheeks and waggles them at me, he says, "Sol! Muy bueno!" we both laugh.

 

This is going well, and because I haven't bothered to dress and am still naked, I grab my pinkler and waggle it at him. He stuffs another cookie into his mouth and grins at me. Then I have an idea. I get up and go into the bedroom and take a shoebox back into the lounge and sit on the sofa again. I open the box and take out some photographs, taking my time to study each one. Curiosity kills the cat, and it also lures little boys onto the sofa beside me to see what I'm looking at. At first I make sure he can't see them, and then I just give him a quick glimpse of one of them, a particularly nice one of a boy I had a few years ago who is lying on my bed, naked, legs wide apart and wanking himself off. Carlos leans closer, so I pretend to try and hide it from him. He's on his knees now on the sofa, and then he's standing up on it, holding onto the back and trying to look around me. I tease him again, and this time I allow him a longer look before placing the photograph back in the box and taking out another. This one is the same boy, but now he's holding his knees to his chest, displaying his bum hole, which is partly open and dripping with my spunk because I've just fucked him. The shoe box is on my left side of the sofa, and Carlos is on my right side, his hands on my right shoulder, looking down. So I hold the photo in my left hand, slip my right hand up between his thighs and under the flimsy shorts he's wearing to feel at his small orbs, and at the same time I let him have a good look. Then I put the photograph back and do nothing.

 

But Carlos does. His curiosity is leading him ever closer to where I want him, and because I know what his next move will be, I lean back and continue to rub his bottom. Within a few seconds he's on his knees beside me, leaning over my lap and looking at the photographs, so I stroke the inside of his spread thighs while he's engrossed in the pornography unfolding before his eyes, and then fondle everything I can get to, including his small pinkler that is rock hard and throbbing again. In less than a minute I've got his shorts down to his knees, and easy access to his tiny sphincter. He's enjoying the pornography, and when he gets to a particularly juicy one of Hansie sucking my pinkler while spunk is running from the corners of his lips, he giggles and shows it to me. I chuckle with him, and then with my left hand I search for one of Hansie with my pinkler buried deep between his bum cheeks. When I show it to Carlos, his mouth and eyes are open in disbelief that a bum hole is capable of such intrusion. I grin at him, spit on my middle finger, and work just the tip of it into his sphincter. I expect him to reach back and remove it, but he doesn't. Instead, while I'm tickling his anus, he continues looking at the photographs... a definite invitation if ever there was one, and I'm thinking that I really misjudged this small boy when he was swimming in the lake. Carlos is more advanced sexually than I gave him credit for... and he likes pornography as much as I like little boys leaning over my knees enjoying having a finger up them! But I'm also wise in the way of little boys, and I know that for me (and him) to enjoy this experience, I'll need more than spit to lubricate this small orifice. That's why I lift him up, get off the sofa, point a finger at him and tell him to stay exactly where he is, and go and get some lube from the bedroom.

 

When I get back, Carlos is still in the same kneeling position with his inviting bum cocked up in the air, so I sit behind him, lean down by the side of him on one elbow to look at the photographs with him, and while we're doing it, with a now well-greased finger, I venture through his sphincter again. Taking it very gently, stopping frequently to allow him to get used to the intrusion, I manage eventually to work my middle finger deep into his hot tunnel. I know the insides of little boys' bottoms better than I know the back of my hand, and it doesn't take me long to locate the small mound not too far inside his small frame. This boy knows how to wank; how to get the pleasures, so with a bit of luck I can give him a pleasure that he didn't know existed.

 

I'm pretending to enjoy the photographs with him, but my mind is elsewhere... concentrating on my finger movements deep inside him. I know I've found the spot when I see his back arch downwards, so very gently I continue to massage a place just at the front of the small mound of desire: Carlos's P-spot, and suddenly he's not interested in pornography any more. He pushes the shoebox away, buries his head in the softness of the sofa, and I concentrate on taking Carlos to the next level of his desires: and my needs. Three minutes later with the middle finger of my right hand working its magic inside him and the fingers of my left hand underneath him fondling his swollen, skin covered knob, he emits the love call of satisfaction as the sensations of his climax make him eject warm pee onto my fingers... a typical reaction from a boy his age who has just been stimulated beyond anything he's ever experienced before in his young life.

 

If he was three years older, it would be all over now for at least fifteen minutes, but boys his age have an amazing ability to recuperate almost immediately, and that's why I continue to fondle his still hard pinkler and also leave my intrusive finger where it is. In a very short while he gyrates his bum on my finger. He wants more. And so do I. I haven't had a boy for months.

 

**********

 

At first he objects, but with a mixture of gentle persuasion and some finger manipulation, I manage to turn him onto his back on the sofa with his legs on his chest, his small bum just over the edge of the sofa while I kneel in front of him and, after removing my finger, I massage his sphincter with my swollen knob. When he realizes that I'm not going to penetrate him, he begins to relax and actually grins at me while I'm rubbing my knob along the length of his open crease. But I do tease him when I get to his sphincter and press hard so it spreads it a little, and he lets out a lovely giggle when he wriggles his bum so it can't go in. His hands are holding his knees, but after a while they begin to relax and his lower legs drop lower, down onto the back of his thighs. I smile at him: he smiles back at me. I move up a bit and rub my knob over his ballsac and pinkler. He watches me doing it for a while, and then he pushes my greased knob back down again, so I lodge it right by his hole, let go of it, put my hands behind his knees and push his small legs as far back as they will go, which also lifts his bum into the perfect position to fuck, and make gentle fucking motions, prodding the well-greased, wrinkled sphincter. Our eyes meet. He grins, and says, "Sol."

 

I chuckle, and nod. "Sol."

 

Those two words release him from his inhibitions, and he reaches down and puts both hands around my pinkler and begins to direct operations. Literally, I'm in his hands now, especially because he's beginning to realize that it takes two to tango. Because I've got his legs so far back and his head is vertical against the back of the sofa, he can actually see what he's doing, and he becomes even more interested in what my knob is doing to his hole. I help him by pushing harder when he wriggles it around his hole, and my swollen knob begins to penetrate him. It's helped because the gel and my precum has softened him up, and the tender skin of his sphincter begins to stretch more and more. Now he seems to be on a mission, determined to get the end of me inside him. So I decide to help him out.

 

I pull away from him, and still holding one leg back with my left hand, I pour some gel onto his hole and insert a finger. He watches intently as I roll it around and stretch the skin, and then I insert two fingers. After the massaging it's had, the two finger ends slip in easily, and I continue the movements until I can roll those around easily. I take them out, put three fingers together, look at Carlos, and he grins and nods. More gel; Carlos pulls his bum cheeks as wide as he can get them, and they slip in as easily as the two fingers did. More grins, but because his hole is now full, I can't make rolling motions with my fingers, so I prod at him, going a little further in with each probe until all three fingers are as far in as they'll go, and because of the way I've positioned them, I know my probing is also stimulating his P-spot again. That's why he's tolerating the intrusion. This boy has discovered that something in there gives him great pleasure. But this boy's pleasure is something I'm not too interested in at the moment: my pleasure is far more important. In fact I'm so worked up that I know it will take very little for me to ejaculate again, and I know exactly where I want that ejaculation to happen.

 

When I withdraw my fingers, Carlos pulls a face at me. I smile at him, place my knob by his hole, and say, "Sol?"

 

He grins, reaches down and stretches his bum cheeks wider. I push. He stretches them further. I push. He stretches more. I push, and my knob slips through the slippery hole, and once inside him, his muscle retracts around the back of my glans, trapping me within the gorgeous tunnel that I adore and need. I look for signs of distress on his face. He does give out a slight grimace, but once I'm settled inside him without making any movements, he grins at me again when I grin at him and say, "Sol!"

 

Then the little monkey does something really amazing. He reaches for the box with the photos in it, finds one with Hansie with his hole distended and spunk running out of him, and shows it to me. I pretend to be shocked, and questioningly look at him and say, "Sol?"

 

He grins and nods. "Sol!"

 

I make a mental note that this kid loves child pornography, and then concentrate on the job at hand. The tender, sensitive parts of me are already clamped in Carlos's tight hole, and it takes only a few very shallow thrusts before I ejaculate into him, and I put on a good show for him so he knows how much his efforts mean to me when my man juices spurt deep into him, and he's got a satisfied look on his face when he realizes what he's achieved.

 

When I've pulled out of him and after he's watched with amusement all my juices seeping from his now tender hole, I get the camera and look questioningly at him for permission. He looks at the photograph of Hansie and grins and nods, so I take a number of pictures of him, including one with my finger right inside his spunk smeared hole. When I show it to him he grabs my hand and pushes my middle finger inside him.  I look at him again and ask, "Sol?" He grins and nods, so I massage his P-spot again, and suck him off while I'm doing it. This one must have been a good one, too, because again he ejects some boy pee when he climaxes, only this time it's into the back of my throat and down my gullet. But I've never been averse to a drop of boy pee. It contains a superb range of minerals and vitamins and anti-bacterial agents, and I love it. In fact, if I can cultivate this affair even more with this delicious boy, because he can't ejaculate boy cream yet, then I'll teach him to piss in my mouth instead. I reckon he's so kinky that he'll enjoy that. God... I do enjoy a delicious little boy, and my heart is filled with the joys of spring when, after Carlos is dressed and ready to go, he grins at me and says. "Sol. Mañana?"

 

I pat his little bottom and shove him through the door. "Sol. Mañana."

 

So? Tomorrow! I can't wait!

 

To be continued...

 

You can find my other stories on Nifty here. If you wish to comment on this or any of my other stories, just drop me a line to john.thestoryteller@gmail.com Genuine comments will be appreciated. All flames will be extinguished in the trash bin.