Date: Tue, 26 Feb 2019 15:55:29 +0000 (UTC)
From: Tague Micheals <tag.michaels@yahoo.com>
Subject: Unlikely Muse VII

Okay, like many of my stories, and at least half the chapters in this one,
I'm opening in one place, and flashing back to another, exactly like the
previous chapter. There are a variety of reasons for this that I'm not
particularly inclined to share. Deal with it or leave as you see fit.
Otherwise, N-joy the ride.

Hugs,
Tag_m
~~~~		~~~~~~~~~~~~		~~~~~~~~~~~~		~~~~~~~~~~~~

I pulled Archer to me and hugged him tightly then gently let go. I decided
to just lay it out there for him, knowing he'd appreciate the candor.

"There isn't a single soul in the world except Pierre that knows what I do
and perhaps when I explain it to you Archer, you'll understand why I've
been less than honest with you in this regard." The boy was looking at me
intently, his attention riveted, which was normal for Archer when something
interested him.

"I am, by profession, an assassin. Without trying to brag, I'm possibly the
best in the world at what I do. My services are very expensive and the
results are guaranteed. No mistakes, no misses, no collateral damage, no
associates, no backing out. I do my best to meet the requirements of my
employer. In other words, if they want something showy I'll give them
showy. If they want it to be a mystery or if they want it to look
accidental then that's what they get. I can also make it look like someone
specific did it but I typically don't play that game, too many things can
go wrong."

"I am very particular about the contracts I accept and I complete each and
every one because I require a great deal of background before I accept one
and once I do accept it I do even more research. I am very detail oriented
and not detail is too small. Most, but not all, of my work comes from
intelligence agencies all over the world. The people I kill are typically
very bad people and like some of your victims, they deserve to die. I'm
sure you have questions so I will do my best to answer them. However, if I
feel the question is inappropriate or if I feel strongly that the answer is
none of your business for whatever reason then I expect you to accept
that."

Archer moved into my arms, kissed me lovingly, hugged me then backed away.

"Thank you for telling me Remy. I bet that it was uncomfortable and even a
little bit scary to give that up. It means a lot to me that you trust me
that much and I swear to you that I will die before revealing that
information." It was my turn to hug and kiss my preteen lover.

"I know that you will son." It pleased me greatly that Archer did not act
surprised or shocked, that he didn't make a big deal out of it being cool
or something along those lines." His first question surprised me.

"Do you like killing, Remy? You don't seem to be the kind of person that
would."

"I don't like it or dislike it Archer. It's a job that I'm very good at. I
don't kill because I want to, except for my first one, I kill because I
need to or I should say, they need killing. If you mean do I get any kind
of thrill out of the actual doing it, no I don't. I do enjoy the challenge,
the research, all of the things that I do to make it a perfect job and of
course, the hunt. But the actual taking of a life? No."

"Neither do I," the boy said. I had pretty much figured that out but was
relieved to hear him say it. "The people I've killed were like yours, bad
people that did bad things to other people. Except for that first guy, I've
never killed just because I was angry at the person. I might be plenty
pissed about what they had done though. I never done it for money neither."
I chose not to correct his grammar.

"May I ask Archer, how many people have you killed?" He didn't hesitate in
the least.

"Eleven, one was a woman. All of them deserved to die because of how they
treated other people. If you want me to, I can tell you about each one,
their name, why I killed them, how and where I killed them and the date and
the day of the week that I killed them. I don't remember all that stuff
because I keep track or anything it's just that I don't forget stuff." I
already knew that. It was like he had an eidetic memory, in fact I
suspected that he did. Still, I was impressed and a little surprised at the
number. I was curious about the woman but chose not to ask. I figured that
Archer would volunteer that information eventually because he made a point
of telling me. He could just as easily have said eleven and left it at that
but he didn't.

"How many have you killed Remy?" I didn't hesitate and said thirty
four. "How old were you when you did your first one?" This was a story that
only one person on the planet knew and that person was my grandfather and
he was long dead. Even Pierre didn't know it. Maybe it was time to tell the
tale, not that I was haunted by it in any way shape or form.

"I was 14 years old Archer and the person I killed was my father." Again,
Archer didn't react to the information in any discernable way and I knew
that it wasn't because he was hardened to such things because on more than
one occasion over the course of our 5 month relationship he'd shown that he
had heart, soul and compassion. I began the story, which was not un-similar
to Archer's.

My father had been a mean, spiteful, jealous man, and a drunk to boot. He
used to punish me for the slightest reason. He didn't beat me, at least not
much, his punishments were more mental than physical but the physical,
often times, was doing a mindless chore over and over and over or standing
still in a corner for hours and as I got older it was physical labor.

He beat my mother from time to time and made me watch. He knew that I doted
on her and it was obvious that she loved me beyond measure, a love that was
denied him, thus one of the sources of his jealousy. Sometimes my mother
fought back, she could be a wildcat, and from time to time inflicted some
serious injury to him. It was after one of those times that my mother died,
specifically, she was killed. Not by him, at least not overtly. He had a
solid alibi. He was away to England on business and I was staying here at
the estate with my grandfather, my father's father. My own father sent me
away on some pretext or another which he did from time to time. That he had
sent me here was a little strange because he didn't like my grandfather
much.

I adored my grandfather, and he me, but I never understood why he had never
intervened on my mother's behalf. I didn't think that he feared my father
because I had the sense that my grandfather didn't fear anyone or
anything. Nothing overt that one could lay their hands on but certainly a
sense, and a strong sense at that.

In any case, supposedly burglar's had broken into our home, robbed, raped,
and killed my mother. I had shared with my grandfather more than once that
I'd like to kill my father. Of course, it was just a kid talking but he
didn't admonish me or downgrade me about it. The last time I'd said was
right after my mother died.

"I can't tell you to do or not to do something like that Remy, I
can't. What I can say is, if you choose to take that path, make it look
like an accident and preferably untraceable." At the time I thought that a
strange thing to say but I took it to heart.

At the time of my mother's death I was just completing secondary school and
scheduled to enter a Cambridge in January. My father had planned a trip to
go skiing which I was expected to go on. Over the course of the week prior
to the trip I went about devising and installing a little device in his
car. A small glass tube with acid in it, the device would only operate when
the car was at a 9% downward grade. It would break the seal then spill onto
both his brake and steering lines, which I had re-arranged to be side by
side at a certain place under the hood. The night before we were to leave
the ski lodge I snuck down into the parking garage and activated the device
while he was drinking in the bar. I also set a cup of whiskey, his favorite
drink, in a cupholder in the back seat. The top was barely resting on it. I
had another prepared for the cupholder in the passenger door that in a
Styrofoam coffee cup.

The next morning, he was hungover and in a surly mood which I helped to
enhance by my own surly attitude. He commented that the car smelled like
alcohol and I retorted that it was because he was sweating it out and stunk
from it. He got pissed, I got pissed right back and as we started out of
the resort's main gate I told him to go fuck himself and he told me to get
out of the car, so I did. He started down the mountainside in a rage.

Everything went as I'd planned. The glass vial broke and did its job about
a mile from a very steep part of the road and since he was probably going
well over the recommended speed, his decent was most likely
rapid. Witnesses concurred that he was indeed speeding, hit a patch of ice,
spun out of control and shot into a scenic lookout area, jumped the curb,
hit the rock wall barrier and went right through it. The drop down the
mountainside was 800 feet and he wasn't wearing a seatbelt which was part
of my plan. The car was completely demolished and why it hadn't burst into
flames was anybody's guess.

I found out about the accident an hour later and called my grandfather. He
chartered a helicopter and was at the resort in another hour. He asked how
I was doing, already knowing what the answer would be.

"I want you to live with me Remy," he said on the flight back down. I
readily agreed. My father's death was ruled an accident by mis-adventure. A
week later my grandfather came up to my room with a couple mugs of hot
chocolate.

"So, Remy," he said then took a sip of his drink, "you only made one
mistake that I could see." I gave him a blank expression. He took another
sip then looked at me over the top of his mug. "Of course, not 1 out of 100
investigators would have caught it, especially considering the
circumstances, but the fact is that brake lines and steering fluid lines
typically are not run snug up against each other on most vehicles. I
suspect that an altimeter or gravity device was used, most likely the
latter, but it doesn't matter. There was no evidence of one. The alcohol
fumes were a nice touch though. How did you manage that?" Since he had me
cold I didn't deny a thing and told him the truth.

"A couple of 8 ounce paper coffee cups about ¾ of the way filled. One in
the backseat and one in the passenger door holder. I figured any quick
jarring would do the job but a roll over would be even better." He nodded
his head.

"I further assume that you instigated an argument of some kind to give you
reason to leave the car or be asked to leave prior to departure."

"Told to leave, but yes." My grandfather also guessed that I'd factored my
father's anger and rage into the equation, which I had.

"Overall Remy, I'd give you 9.8 out of a 10 for that job." I couldn't
imagine having a more bizarre conversation but my imagination fell short of
the mark.

"So, again, how are you doing," my grandfather asked. I didn't hesitate.

"Actually very well. My father was a cocksucker and a prick which gives
both cocksuckers and pricks a bad name." He actually laughed at that. The
conversation that followed was just like what Archer and I had
discussed. Did I like killing? Killing him specifically, yes, killing in
general I had no feelings about one way or the other.

"Well said. If you had it to do all over, would you, and if so would you
change anything?"

"Yes to the first and no to the second. You said yourself that it was a
good job although I don't know what credentials you have for making such a
statement."

"More on my credentials in a moment," he responded, not unkindly. "If a
situation came up where there was a definite need to kill, the person very
clearly deserving of death, could you do it?" I gave him a quizzical look.

"Where in the hell is this going grandfather," I asked him. He asked me to
humor him. I thought for a moment then said, "probably, depending on all of
the factors that came into play. A case by case sort of thing, if you
will. If you're asking would I like it, the killing, no I wouldn't. It
would be like taking out the trash, something that needed to be done."

"Fair enough," he said, "I'll come back to that in a moment but I want to
veer off just a wee bit. Just so you know, I am well aware of your sexual
orientation and I have no judgement on it one way or the other unless it
interferes with my quality of life in some way. That said, you are welcome
to have friends stay the night or weekends as long as they are within a
year or two of your own age. Fair enough?" I told him it was, then thanked
him for being up front with me about it.

"My credentials are this," he said, "I am the third generation of men who
kill for a living. Call us assassins, contract operatives, spies if you
will, although we didn't and don't spy. I am a businessman. I contract with
intelligence agencies for the most part and then only the heads of such
agencies. Much of my work is initiated from higher up the food chain but
the point of contact is the agencies. From time to time I do work outside
of that bubble but even those are referred through the agencies. That none
of us have ever been caught, implicated or even suspected is a testament to
our skills. In more than one instance we have been tasked with the
elimination of other's in the same profession."

"The point of the discussion is this. I am getting old, will have to
retire, which leaves a void in the profession and naturally would mean the
end of our line. I would as soon not see that happen. I ruled your father
out by the time he was your age. As far as trying to find someone to
apprentice with me that is not family, that isn't an option. You are my
only living family member, the only person that could carry on the,
"tradition" as it were."

"When you mentioned killing your father, after your mother died, I knew
that you meant it which is why I said what I did although I don't believe
that my words influenced you to be more careful. You would have done that
regardless. The quality of the job shows me a lot of things but in the
short, you have the skills, the mentality, and the cautiousness to succeed
at that profession."

Archer had listened with rapt attention, not interrupting, not getting
bored or fidgety. "That's the beginning. My grandfather asked if I'd
consider it but I didn't have to. I told him I wanted to follow in his
footsteps and he started training me the next day."

"That is a very cool story Remy. You are lucky to have such a family as
that." He paused then added, "and I'm lucky to have you as my family." That
said he snuggled into me, kissed me again then backed up. "I'm starving
Remy. Can we go down to the kitchen and scare something up?" I was in
agreement, so we tugged on bathrobes and headed downstairs, hand in hand.

We passed by my library and saw Pierre in an overstuffed arm chair reading
a book that I recognized as Plato's Lectures. Archer invited him to join us
for a snack. In the kitchen Pierre pulled a fruit pizza from the fridge
while I got out plates and silverware and Archer poured milk into chilled
glasses. We adjourned to the breakfast nook and sat down to generous
portions of the dessert that Angelina had prepared after supper. After a
couple of bites in silence, Archer asked,

"Are you still thinking about a house down by that beach Remy?" I nodded my
head as I finished chewing then swallowing a bite."

"Yes Archer I am. In fact, I have a line on a couple of places that aren't
far from where Andres lives." The boys' face brightened visibly and while I
wasn't sure which part of the statement caused it, Archer let me know.

"Oh man Remy, I sure wouldn't mind spending more time visiting him and his
friends." Frankly, neither would I. Being with that boy pack had been a
memorable experience for me. "Besides Remy, you owe Andres a spanking."
Pierre arched an eyebrow at that statement.

As I've said before, Pierre is fully aware of my predilection toward boys
but has never commented about it and certainly never participated, nor did
I ever get a sense that he did want to participate. Pierre never talked
about his sex life at all, assuming he had one. He never mentioned having a
girl or a boyfriend, lover, partner or any other type of relationship. As
far as I knew he didn't have any family and he never mentioned spending
time with friends. He was a mystery. I most assuredly could have found out
something if I'd wanted to but I didn't. Now, I will say this.

About every 2 months Pierre would take off and be gone anywhere from 2 to 5
days. He never said where he was going or what he was doing nor did I
ask. He might have been getting his ashes hauled, he might have been
spending time with an aging family member, he may have been attending a
religious retreat. Although the latter is possible is it highly improbable.

Archer caught Pierre's reaction then apologized for mentioning it. Not to
hide any activities from Pierre but because I frown on anyone talking about
someone else's business. Regardless, Archer had been correct; At his
insistence, I had promised Andres a return bout at which point he wanted to
engage in spanking. There hadn't been time that evening. Too many boys to
fuck and too little time but some very pleasant memories.

So, there I was, on my back with Andres straddling my chest with his big
fat 14 year old cock in my mouth. I had both hands on his ass, kneading the
flesh but also keeping them peeled wide open so that Cyan could get his
fingers in there and work the black haired teen. I could hear the younger
boy moaning softly in accompaniment to the squishy sounds of his finger, or
fingers, working in and out of Andres hole. Those sounds, were in turn,
accompanied by Andres' moaning.

The kid was seeping precum like a slow running faucet and like a good
drain, I was taking it all down my throat. He was moving his ass around
like a hula dancer as well albeit not nearly as rapidly. Andres' moaning
became louder and more pronounced and I knew that it wouldn't be long
before he was ready to be dicked.

"Make me cum Archer," Gage cried out from beside us, "I can cum soon. Fuck
me into a cum." The boys' high pitched voice was considerably deeper that
it had been. I wondered briefly if he was going to want me to fuck him and
was rather hoping he would follow through on his earlier not so subtle
hints.

The sounds of boys having sex surrounded me like a good stereo
system. Although I couldn't see them at the moment, I knew that Marc had
teamed up with Zaran and Esme had hooked up with Dakota. Based on what I
was hearing it would appear that the older boys would, or were, servicing
the younger one.

"Go ahead and put your big cock in my butt Marc," Zaran said in a voice
that was deeper than when I'd met him. "I haven't been fucked for 2 days."
Clearly the cute young thing had an active sex life.

"I love when you suck my dick Esme," Dakota said.

"You just love your cock sucked Dakota; it's not that I'm better than
anybody else."

"Yes you are Esme," I heard someone else call out.

"I think I need you have your cock in my ass Remy," Andres groaned. I felt
Cyan move back then Andres backed up, his big cock springing up and
standing at attention in front of his flat belly, well, almost standing.

"How about if we start off with me riding you like bucking bronco Remy?"

"I got no problem with that hot stuff," I replied.

"Will you get the lube and grease Remy up while I kiss on him please Cyan?"
That said, the black haired hottie leaned down and planted his delicious
lips against mine and began the process. His probing tongue pressured me to
open my mouth, although pressure isn't exactly the correct term, and in
seconds both mouths were wide open and our tongues were engaging in battle,
a loving battle that is.

I felt Cyan's sticky cold hand grip my cock and slather it from stem to
gudgeon with lube. He pulled my foreskin down and slathered the head before
holding it upright.

"It's ready when you are Andres," the boy said in his high pitched voice.

"I'm cumming," Gage all but screamed out, his high pitched voice sounding
much like a little girl. Archer mumbled something that sounded like,
"that's good because so am I."

"Ready," Cyan said. The continued to hold my cock up for Andres as the
older boy slid down my torso. The younger boy put a hand on the teen's ass
to help guide him and a moment later I felt my cock touch his puckered
muscle. Andres pushed and Cyan wiggled my cock in the ages old effort to
dominate the muscle and of course it worked after 10 seconds or so of
trying. Needless to say, once the head was lodged in his asshole, Andres
stopped.

"Ouchie," he said as I penetrated him. The grimace on his face matched the
tone of his voice. Andres didn't move, I didn't move, even Cyan didn't
move. I looked around and noticed many of the couples had switched out
partners, moving from cock or asshole to another. It was like a buffet; you
wanted to try a variety things.

Archer was still with Gage, those to having stopped and were laying next to
each other kissing. Hagen and Luc were in a stacked 69, sucking cock and
licking butthole. Marc was pounding Zaran's ass like a piston and the young
hottie was gasping loudly with each thrust. If one didn't know better
they'd a thought someone was being beaten.

"I'm ready," Andres said, bringing my focus back to the task at hand, or
asshole if you wanted to be accurate about it. He began to lower his
glorious bottom while Cyan held onto my cock to make sure it all went
smoothly. Or maybe, just to be holding on to my cock. He took to feeling on
my balls too, which added more stimuli to the mix. It took about a half
minute, Andres apparently wasn't in any real big hurry, before he stopped
moving.

"Oh fuck, I haven't been this full in a long time," the boy said in a husky
voice, "if ever. He lowered his head and we kissed, tongues and all for a
good 20 seconds before he backed away from me. He stayed close however, his
face above mine, looking down into my eyes, and began to move.

Andres started out with a simply up and down motion although it more like a
to and fro, given the angle of his asshole to my cock. Needless to say, it
didn't matter one iota to me how he did it; it all felt good. After a
minute or so, the boy leaned down and kissed me gently while continuing to
fuck himself on my cock.

I felt my balls being felt up and looked down to see Cyan still there and
doing the duty. Around us, boys continued to suck fuck and play but I
brought my focus back to Andres.

"Would you like to suck on Cyan's delicious little cock while we fuck
Remy?"

"I don't know if he wants me to," I said, teasing the boy because I knew
damn well he would. A moment later the youngling in question was kneeling
beside my head.

"Does this tell you anything Remy," he asked, somewhat coyly I might
add. Andres moved his body so that he was more upright than bent over and
Cyan took that as an invitation to move up next to me. I admired his body
for a brief moment.

His cock, about 5 inches give or take, was rock hard and I could see it bob
with each beat of his little heart. His cock head was barely peeking out
from under his foreskin, both of them almost glowing red. His balls hung
between his smooth pale thighs, one lower than the other, and I could see a
small mole on the underside of his cock, right at the base. His balls were
completely smooth but I could the barest smattering of light colored hairs
growing at the base of throbbing cock. I wondered if he was making sperm
but didn't ask because at that moment, it was about the least important
thing to consider.

"You're a beautiful boy Cyan," I said.

"Thank you. Does that mean you'll fuck me later?"

"You're about 3rd in line after me," Andres said with a giggle, "but who
knows, somebody could drop out of the race.

"Not me," Gage said. "I'm in it to win it and pin it." That got some more
laughs and I could feel Andres' asshole flex against my cock when he did
it.

"Pin it means your cock Remy. He'll pin it by having it shoved up his ass."
Made sense to me.

The viewing of Cyan's parts done, I pulled the pretty little youngling's
cock down and the boy leaned over my head so that his boner wasn't bent too
much which was fine with me. I took him into my mouth and proceeded to blow
the kid.

At my other end, Andres began using his knees and legs to rise and fall on
my cock. About every 4th or 5th dip he let his weight rest on me and ground
his ass around a little bit. Then he would stop and simple grind to and
fro, moving my cock around like a stick shift in an old Renault.

I reached my free hand up and cupped Cyan's smooth balls and gently fondled
and tugged on them causing the boy to moan loudly. I allowed my fingers to
move back along his perineum then upward where my fingers trailed back and
forth across his puckered little asshole which in turn garnered more moans
and groans.

Andres kept on fucking me, finally leaning forward some and planting his
palms on my chest and began working his ass like a pro. Cyan's moaning and
groaning seemed to escalate and it wasn't long before he said he was going
to cum.

"Wanna cum in my mouth sweet boy," I asked him

"Yessssss," he hissed. I swung my left arm across my body and latched onto
his right butt cheek and began kneading the pliable flesh. My other hand
continued to finger his hole although I wasn't going inside of him but
damned near.

"Oh fuck, I'm cumming I'm cumming," the boy cried out a moment later. I
felt his cock thicken against my lips but that wasn't unusual. Archer's
cock did the same thing when he was cumming. It wasn't any indication of
sperm being released. Except in this case, it was. I felt liquid on my
tongue and based on its viscosity I knew it wasn't piss. There wasn't a
lot, in fact, the first burp of it was the only one but it was enough to
catch the flavor which is almost sweet tasting at that age, and not the
bleachy taste of more mature sperm.

Cyan carried on like a beaten child for a good 4 minutes before he calmed
down, his orgasm was reportedly that powerful. Andres had continued to move
but the force of Cyan's, hhhhmmmm, experience was a little
disruptive. Permitted although still disruptive but certainly didn't cause
any undue stress.

Cyan finally backed away and along about that time Andres declared his
mouth was getting sore which was no surprise. "I need to be on my back
getting fucked good a proper like a boys is s'pose to be fucked. He was
prepared to disengage from me in order to move from where we were to where
he wanted to be. But I stopped him.

"It won't be necessary for me to come out of you Andres. We can manage the
move with me still inside you. To say that the boy was dubious about my
claim would be down playing it. But to his credit he went along with it and
became a believer.

We started by getting me into a sitting position facing Andres which he
thought was downright cool because we could kiss as though it were our
last. And we did. It was a head turning, mouth open, tongue battling, deep
breathing kiss that win people Oscars and accolades. I had both hands in
his hair, gripping it and holding him place, not that he had any plans to
go anywhere except on his back.

"God this position seems to push your cock deeper into my ass Remy," the
boy said with a bit of a groan.

"Are you ready to get fucked deep and hard sexy boy?" I kissed him on the
mouth

"I am." I kissed him on the mouth.

"Do you want to feel my hard cock pile driving into your tight little
pussy?"

"I do, I do," he panted.

"And will you cry out like a little girl when you cum and beg me for more?"

"Oh god, yes, I will, I promise, I will."

"Hold while I move us Andres," I said. The boy did as I request and after a
bit of maneuvering I got him onto his back. I then slipped my arms under
his thighs and leaned forward, placing my palms on the bed alongside his
shoulders which put my head and face above his.

"How's this baby, will this work for you," I said. He gulped and nodded his
head.

"Yes," he said in a barely audible voice, "Now fuck me Remy; fuck me long
and hard."

I did, eventually. But I started out slow, just figuring out the angles and
distances and all those sort of things. I was also bringing his heat level
back up. I really wanted the kid to be so red hot he'd think he was on
fire. I glanced around a little bit and saw boys fucking and sucking and
heard the moaning and groaning. I located Archer who seemed to have hook up
with Luc and while I wasn't sure, it looked like my boy would bottoming for
the older teen. Which was fine with me

After a good 2 minutes of getting my bearings and distances, and getting
Andres warmed up, I began to fuck the boy harder. I get a great deal of
satisfaction from fucking a boy and I don't mean just the stuff that's
going on in my cock and inside my balls. I mean the actually fucking, the
slamming of my cock into another person, the movement of my lower back and
my ass that allows me to slam my cock into another person. I get a great
deal of satisfaction from hearing the mewing sounds, the grunts and groans
and the crying out as my actions cause the rise and fall of feelings in
another person's body. It's like the satisfaction from a job well done as
the saying goes because in my mind, all those sounds another person makes
are from my work. Selfish and self-centered, perhaps. Narcissistic, maybe a
little, but aren't well all.

Bottom line, I love fucking boys. I love pounding a boys ass one second,
and gently fucking him the next. I watched his emotions play out on his
smooth face as I slammed my cock home, deep inside his 14 year old body. I
went through the various anatomical acts, or positions if you will, that I
tried to employ when loving a boy and for me loving was a word I liked, not
just fucking.

I changed out my angle of thrust, going in from one of the points on the
compass and not just straight in. I moved my torso higher along Andres'
body which placed more pressure against my cock as well as the upper area
of his tight little hole. I pressed tight against him and moved my ass in
circles before pulling out of him so far the rim of my cock head was almost
showing then slamming back into him so hard that it moved him on the
mattress.

I took a moment to do some slow motion pounding, that is, pulling out of
him slowing then rapidly slamming my cock back into him. Andres grunted
loudly each time I did it and I don't know if it was that, or sheer
interest, but a few of the boys gathered `round to watch us.

Throughout the bout, which lasted another 10 minutes at least, Andres made
noises and talked. It wasn't a constant chatter but the usual kind of
dialog.

"Fuck me hard Remy." "God I love your cock in my pussy." "Oh god", and "so
good" were also used among other things. When I moved my body higher along
his, his head was under my chest and the boy took the opportunity to suck
on my nipple like a babe at a teat. That was new for me.

It finally became time to take it home so I braced myself above him and
began really hammering his ass. I could feel and hear my balls smacking
against his ass. His grunts and other sounds when I bottomed out inside of
him became louder and more constant.

"Jesus look at that will ya," someone said from behind us. Of course, he
was commenting on the view because the connection of my cock and his ass
was pretty much opened to view.

"Look, you can see the rim of his asshole going in and out."

"Goddamn I want some of that."

"So hot to watch." I never really knew who said what and I didn't care. My
sole focus was to make the boy cum and cum he did.

"I'm close Remy," He managed to utter, "I'm really close. Make me cum Remy,
fuck me into a cum. Oh Jesus Christ this is good." About 20 seconds later
Andres all but screamed out. His legs gripped my hips and his asshole
convulsed against my cock as the boy went through a powerful orgasm and
naturally it brought mine on as well.

"Oh fuck Andres fucking you is amazing. God what a delicious fuck you are,"
I groaned as I fired volley after volley of sperm deep into the boy. We
rocked, we rolled, we both cried out as 19 seconds of intense pleasure all
but ripped our bodies asunder. Around us boys were clapping and cheering as
if a race had been won. I began to slow down, not ready to leave the tight
warm hole that gripped me and neither was Andres ready for me to leave,
experience had taught me that. I finally came to a stop but stayed in
place, deep in his ass. The hot young teen finally opened his eyes, sort
of, and gave me a lazy, lopsided, "just fucked" grin.

"Do you think you could move here and live with us and fuck me every day
Remy," he asked in a husky voice. Then, "that was the most amazing fuck
I've ever had, period end of story. Oh my god." His arms were still around
my neck so I lowered my head and we kissed a little then he just fell back
on the pillow.

"Jesus Archer; is that what you get every day," I heard someone ask. The
question was accompanied by a few giggles.

"Yup, pretty much," my adorable preteen lover said.

"You gotta move here you guys, you just gotta," another boy said. By that
time everybody knew that Archer and I were from out of town. There was more
dialog but I wasn't paying much attention.

"How are you doing baby," I asked him.

"Really good Remy, thank you. I could probably go for a couple of days
without getting fucked. I won't; but I could." I chuckled and he commented
that he could feel that in his pussy so I flexed my Kagel muscles a couple
of times for him.

"I need to sit on the toilet but I'm afraid if you come out of me it's
going to drench the sheet."

"Hold on then," I said, "I lift you up and carry you to the bathroom." I
did so, and got more giggles from the boy. Once standing, I headed for the
bathroom with Andres clinging on as if for dear life.

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