Date: Sat, 27 Mar 2021 09:28:20 +0000
From: nikinak13 <nikinak13@protonmail.com>
Subject: The Moroccan Boy

This is another adult fantasy concerning a hook up between a man and a
pubescent boy. If such fantasies disgust you, please click away, I won't
be offended. But before you do...or indeed if you love the idea, donate
to this excellent Nifty site. We all enjoy at least some of the
stories..the very least we can do is give up the price of a coffee to
keep it alive?

As always, if you have any comments, suggestions or...be still my beating
heart...praise, please feel free to email me. The best address is
nikinak13@protonmail.com. I always answer feedback. Right...onwards then.

The Moroccan Boy

....or at least I think that's where he hailed from. It was kind of a
brief encounter, worse luck. Conversation wasn't a priority. Sucking
cock was.

I'd been in Manchester, visiting a client and I wasn't looking forward
to the 3 and a half hour drive home. The weather was very much peak
Manchester. Dark grey skies, sodden streets and pinch faced people
scurrying along. It was just after lunch. One I had provided via my
company Amex card to the buyer I had just spent two hours fruitlessly
attempting a sale to. I knew from his eyes, and the apologetic expression
as we parted, that the £80 I had just spent on Mexican food and high
priced wine, was going to go down as an expense utterly wasted. He
wasn't buying.

I sighed as the fixed smile on my face faded, watching his large arse
wobble from the restaurant. Too many salesmen funded cholesterol crammed
lunches had contributed to his weight issues. But he was the one going
back to his centrally heated office, well fed and watered. While I was
heading for the multi storey car park a few hundred yards away. The rain
was starting to get heavier, which did nothing for my mood. A wasted
journey, future dyspepsia and the knowledge that the mineral water I had
stuck with as the non buyer polished off the Chablis Premier Cru, was
going to necessitate a final visit to a toilet before I retrieved my car
and headed for the M6.

I got to the shopping centre multi storey just before the rain increased
to a deluge. People everywhere were scurrying for shelter.

Luckily for me (and that was an understatement as it turned out), there
was a single storey toilet block just to one side of the car park. The
sort of block the local authorities put up in the 90's...before budget
cuts and paranoia about cottagers stopped them being erected (stop it..).
At least it was clean, I thought as I hurried to the brushed steel trough
style urinal. The place was obviously cleaned regularly. The walls were
free of graffiti, the urinal shiny and full of those little yellow
disinfectant cubes they used to use liberally. Even the mirror over the
trough was unpitted and freshly wiped.

I opened my dark grey heavy wool coat, reached down into to my suit
trousers and fished out my cock. A few seconds later, duty done, I shook
it, wiped the end dry with a fresh tissue from my coat pocket and made
ready to zip up.

Which was when a figure appeared beside me.

Now, the facilities weren't grand, by any means, but there was ample
room along the wall for anyone coming in to find a space well away from
the only other occupant? I jumped a little at the unexpected intrusion.

Now, I've been in many public toilets...mostly of course to use them for
the reason they were put up. But like most men who occasionally enjoy a
strangers stiff cock, I had spent several hours in total either stroking
or sucking an anonymous erection. But it was almost exclusively at
night...not at lunchtime, next to a multi storey car park and a shopping
centre full of shivering Mancunians. I sighed for the second time this
hour...but not in resignation, this time..

Without looking down at the no doubt erect cock which the stranger would
be hopefully waving, I turned to the figure next to me, to give him the
`thanks, but no thanks' speech.

I had no wish to end up in Piccadilly Police Station, explaining to the
desk sergeant that I'd never done anything like this before, and could
he just let me go with a caution.

I had my mouth open, ready for that exact brush off, when I saw the face
of the hopeful cottager.

My eyes went as wide as a very shocked person has ever done.

Instead of some middle aged guy, looking for some anonymous fun, staring
up at me...because he was a good 6 inches shorter than my 5'11"...was a
boy.

Now you'll know...if you've read my other stories, that I'm a bit of a
connoisseur of pretty adolescent boys. I was lucky enough to encounter
two willing pubescent beauties inside 2 years when I was in my 20's. But
now, I was 15 years older...probably no wiser...and the appeal I had for
experimental pre teens was much less. I'd virtually given up on ever
having a juvenile cock in my mouth again, let alone a boys on mine. But
it seemed fate had other plans.

He was gorgeous. Under 5 feet 5", slim and pretty. Not pretty in the
Miko sense, not exotic and not even as conventionally handsome as our
Carl had been.

The boy was obviously not from Manchester...or at least not from the back
streets of Clayton or Ancoats. I guessed North African. Mocha coloured
skin, deep brown eyes, wide and lacking in guile, a wide, white smile,
which he flashed me when my shocked expression changed to admiration. He
was wearing just a thin zipped black nylon jacket over a black tee shirt
with a baggy neck and some faded blue jeans which had definitely not come
from Levi Strauss's warehouse. Dirty white trainers finished the picture
of a lad who was probably the recipient of the parsimonious state aid
this benighted country `awards' to refugees.

He smiled again, his expression hopeful as his eyes flicked down to my
cock still gripped in my fist.

The gesture was unmistakeable. He was here to earn...and a stiff cock has
no scruples. Despite the danger of the situation...the possibility of
someone walking in at any moment, he was making his play. By the look of
him, a few blowjobs for passing strangers was probably his main income.

It took about a nanosecond for me to decide. He was pretty, just the
right age (I guessed 15, but later found out he was a year younger) and
obviously willing to trade. I'd just blown £80 of the companies money on
a wasted lunch...my wallet contained a good £70 in various notes
and...well, the longer he stared at my erection, the more unlikely a
refusal was going to pass my lips. Unlike his cock I hoped...

But then it occurred to me that the best I could hope for would be
crouching in a cubicle, however well scrubbed, sucking on his dick, or
letting him suck mine. He was obviously hustling, but judging by his
youth, not for long. Maybe...

So, tucking my hardening cock back in my trousers, and noting with
satisfaction his look of disappointment, I looked him in the eye and made
a proposal. One he could take or leave. I was banking on his inexperience
and hunger for more than the contents of my wallet. That last look he
gave my disappearing dick wasn't just at the loss of a potential
customer...this kid was interested in flesh as well as currency...or so I
hoped.

His eyes held mine as I spoke. I could see he was struggling with
comprehension, but his English skills certainly allowed him to get the
basics.

"I'm not interested in being sucked off in a toilet...however good you
are. But if you're up for it...how about...?"

I outlined my proposal.

He would follow me to my car, we'd drive to the outskirts of the city,
where there was a Holiday Inn with an accommodation block comprising a
row of single chalet like rooms. That way I could check in without him
and park in front of the room without his presence giving anyone the
wrong (right) idea about my guest. He'd stay a few hours...I'd get a
meal delivered to the room after the sex and a hot shower before and
afterwards...then I'd pay him for his time and get a taxi to take him
back to the city centre, quite a lot better off.

Luckily, no one else came into the washroom while we were
`negotiating'. It took a while. I could hear the heavy rain pounding on
the glazed roof as we stood there. His face, still pretty, but
understandably wary about my proposition. I suppose. In his shoes, I'd
have felt the same at 14. Sucking off a stranger in a cubicle was dodgy
enough...getting in a car and being taken a few miles away was something
else.

To help him decide, I took out my wallet and used my fingers to take out
two £20's. I guessed correctly that the going rate for a quick blow was
about half that.

"If you make me happy...I'll double this..." I said. This time his
eyes looked from the cash to my face, then back again. I don't know who
had turned him out...a pimp or even his father, but I guess £80 for a
couple of hours work was a lot more than he was used to getting.

I was right. He shook his head...looking like he was clearing it of
negative thoughts, then smiled again.

"You want fuck too?" He grinned winningly

"Oh fucking hell yeah" I said, nodding. Two hours was enough time for
me to put two loads inside him...one in that pretty mouth, the other
inside his skinny body.

We left separately. But once we got to my car, he asked if he could phone
his `father' to let him know he'd be a couple of hours. He fished out
a crappy old Samsung phone, battered and cracked, then thumbed a number
on speed dial.

There was a burst of staccato Arabic, from him, then the other end. But
when he disconnected, that sexy little smile was back. Game on...

The drive to the hotel seemed longer than usual. I had to make my own
call to work, making up some bullshit about a puncture and a night in a
motel. But by the time we were pulling into the darkening car park, I was
already stiffening in anticipation. All through the short journey, the
kid stayed silent, just looking out of the window.

Checked in for one night and paying in advance, I pulled the car round
the back of the accommodation block, pulling up right outside chalet 124.
There were cars outside a few other rooms, but none really close. I
looked around before getting out and closing his door. We slipped into
the already warm room.

Bog standard Holiday Inn. A bathroom to the left, a wardrobe with wire
hangers, a double bed and a window looking out over the fields at the
back. Perfect, I thought.

The boy stood just inside the door as I closed it behind us and drew the
curtains. Then I switched on the two bedside lamps instead of the
overhead light. It cast a deep yellow glow over the utilitarian motel
room.

"Right..." I said firmly...the boy still standing passively by the
door, hands clasped in front of him. I realised I didn't even know his
name, which, considering what I was hoping to do with him in a few
minutes, seemed a bit off "...what's your name?"

"Samir" he said, smiling faintly "...but my friends and family call me
Sami?"

Perfect, I thought. He looks like a Sami....

"Well Sami...how many times have you done something like this?"

He raised an eyebrow at my direct question, but then shrugged. This
wasn't a relationship...more a financial transaction. He must have
decided there was no point in being dishonest about his situation.

"My family and I come from Agadir...two months ago. But my parents are
in a...I think you call it detention centre... near Dover?"

I could see by his downcast expression, the loss of his parents was still
sharp.

"And you....how did you get to Manchester." I said gently. Sounded like
a typical refugee story. The family probably landed in a dinghy somewhere
along the south coast, like hundreds of others have.

"I ran when the police came..my father told me to run and hide. Then I
hitchhiked here...I thought I might find relatives in Manchester, but
there was just an uncle...well, not really an uncle?"

I had a good idea what sort of uncle this man probably was. A pimp by any
other name. The boy was pretty, quite effeminate in manner and there is
always demand for adolescents who are prepared to earn on their knees.
It's a hard world.

"So...how long have you been...?" I prompted.

"A month or so...my uncle tells me to call him dada...and drops me off
at the shopping centre in the afternoons...there are always men...you
know?"

I did...and it was with a touch of shame I realised I was just another of
those men.

"B...but...I really don't mind...uh...I like to...umm...sometimes...I
do like to..." he said thickly, understanding that I might think him
reluctant.

I understood. Blowing strangers wasn't the worst thing he could have
been asked to do. It looked from his manner as if he was inclined that
way anyway...this way he got paid and fed for indulging his interests. I
decided not to press him further. He wasn't yet spoiled yet by the
frequent anonymous sex...still in that stage where the act itself gave
him pleasure...lucky old me.

"Shower then...Sami...together, yes?"

Part of that was a desire to ensure he was properly clean...but also,
showering together meant I wasn't about to lose my wallet and car keys
while I was out of the room.

He nodded quickly and headed for the bathroom, shedding his clothing on
the chair next to the door. My heart fluttered as his nakedness was
revealed. That mocha skin was all over. Flat chest, smooth, hairless legs
and a tiny butt. He was gorgeous. He turned to me as the last bit of
clothing hit the floor and grinned at my no doubt hungry look. His cock,
small and cut, was thickening visibly as I leered. I swallowed...

My own clothes quickly followed his and we went into the bathroom,
pulling back the glass shower door and I twisted the control, sending a
powerful spray of warm water downwards.

The shower was fun. He washed me, I washed him...thoroughly. But he
wasn't smelly or dirty, rather the opposite. Wherever he was staying
obviously had some basic facilities. But the washing and drying with the
standard thick fluffy towels had the inevitable effect on both our
bodies. By the time we stepped back into the bedroom, both of us were
rock hard. He went and sat on the bed, his thin but proportionate
erection bobbing between his legs as he waited for me to decide what I
wanted to do first.

I was in a dilemma...that rosebud mouth and cheeky face begged for a hard
cock...but then, the rigid teenage cock between his legs looked more than
good enough to eat...decisions, decisions.

I'd like to say I did decide, but actually Sami did it for me. His eyes
were fixed on the column of flesh in front of him, then his lips parted
and that small pink tongue moistened them. I don't think he even
realised what a reflex action that was. He might be getting well paid to
service me...but that involuntary motion told me he was as excited about
it as me. One small hand came up and stroked the warm flesh lightly, the
other slipped under my balls and cupped me gently. I could feel his
breath on my glans...closer and closer.

"Suck me Sami" I said in a voice thick with need. There was never a
chance he wouldn't obey. With a small whimper of surrender, his mouth
opened and those young lips slowly surrounded my cock.

Exquisite...that's the only word I can use. Suction...slow, careful
suction...and the steady use of his hands to feed more and more into his
mouth. I looked down at his lap...his own erection was quivering...hard
as only a teenage hard on can be. I wanted it in my mouth, but the work
he was doing on me was just too good. Up and down his hand went, in and
out my cock went into his mouth. His tongue was dancing on the top every
upstroke. Whatever training he'd had from his `uncle' in
Manchester...this was no reluctant cock sucker...this boy was enjoying it
almost as much as me.

For a minute or so, I just stood in front of Sami, revelling in the
glorious sight of a young boy sucking my cock with relish. I'd been
sucked off by three other young boys in my life. Robin was my 13 year old
tutor, already experienced and eager to please. But I was only a few
months older, so too young to appreciate what a treat it was. Miko was 14
and deliciously submissive, sucking me under the instruction of his
stepfather. And Carl, younger than both, was probably the best I'd ever
had...at 12, already hungry for cock and cum. But Sami was right up there
with the best. No novice, but just young enough to look as if he had no
right to be savouring six inches of stiff dick in his swooping mouth. His
hands teased and stroked as his mouth bathed my straining cock with heat
and moisture. I groaned as he used his tongue again in a swirling motion
on my super sensitive glans, making my knees tremble in anticipation of
the moment when I filled his mouth with hot cum.

But I wanted more, greedy as that sounded. Sami might be a boy
prostitute, and was probably unused to any pleasure in return, but I had
no intention of using him that badly.

Reluctantly, I pulled my cock free of his clinging suction. He made a
small sound of disapproval at the removal of his treat, but I had
something else in mind.. I pushed him away and slid onto the bed, pulling
him over me, top to tail. I give him his due...he soon got the idea.
Despite the difference in our heights, with a couple of strategically
placed pillows and some clumsy adjustments, his mouth was soon back on
me, doing a job he loved.

For my part, I had the glorious sight of his body kneeling over mine,
that super hard little cock swaying in front of my face. I knew his
sucking would get me off in a few minutes...it was just too good. But I
wanted him in my mouth when it happened...bucking, groaning...shooting
his seed onto my welcoming tongue.

We worked on each other hungrily, him uttering little squeaks of pleasure
and me groaning as I sucked his slim nail quickly. I just had time to
moisten my middle finger and slip it inside his tight rosebud, before he
blew.

One minute I was sucking warm flesh and probing gently inside him...the
next he cried out...voice muffled by the cock in his mouth...then drove
his hips downwards. I felt the first spurt coat my tongue...sweet, with
just a hint of saltiness, before the second jet filled my mouth. As I
swallowed, savouring his delight, my own orgasm rushed over my body,
unstoppable. I jerked my hips upwards, making him grip my cock with his
fist to stop me choking him. Then I let loose spurt after spurt of hot
cum. He cried out again as his last spasms shook his thin body, but the
suction and the tight lips over my erection never quit. He swallowed
convulsively, moaning as I continued to fill his small mouth with semen.

Finally, both spent, we separated, lying now side by side on the wide
bed. Both sets of lungs heaving for air...both our faces bearing a
slightly smug grin at the pleasure we had given each other.

I dozed then and Sami snuggled up to me, his slim, brown body pressed
against mine, his head resting on my chest.

There would be more...much more...but for now we allowed our batteries to
recharge again. My finger held the memory of that tight and clinging
rear...I wanted my cock, once it had regained its strength, to probe
those depths. I wanted him under me, legs locked round my waist, his face
blank with pleasure, staring up at me while I filled a different hole
with warm cum.

But that's for later...

There is another chapter...I hadn't finished with Sami...not by a long
way. Thanks to all who bothered to comment...your feedback is welcome
always and I'll answer any questions you have.

Email me on nikinak13@protonmail.com

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