Date: Tue, 27 Mar 2018 14:49:18 +0000 (UTC) From: Julian Otero Subject: What I Liked About Fucking Darby Please remember to make a contribution to nifty and help keep this archive going strong. What I Liked About Fucking Darby Mike, age 35, Darby's lover Darby James Rogers, age 12, school boy with a newspaper route What I Liked About Fucking Darby It was the sounds. And his smell. The sounds he made while my daddy-sized cock slid up his 12 year old ass. Those chirpy cheerful juvenile utterances alternating with sighs and grunts of delight. Hearing them added to my own delight as his tight pubescent asshole gripped me so, so wonderfully. Darby loved to get fucked. Some boychicks are like that: when they experience the intense pleasure a hot hard cock in their ass can provide they seek that joy more and more often. And his ass: superb. Boys his age begin to loose the firm roundness of that part, but not dear Darby. It was small and muscular, each moon gleaming and inviting. That part of him received me just about every week. Oh, his dick? Yes. I know you need to know. His four incher is just fine--excellent in fact, clean and gleaming. He allowed me--no, demanded--I put it in my mouth several times a week. Darby liked to verbalize his joy in sex, the anal pleasure my hard dick gave him, even the pain it delivered. You know what I mean. Pain at first then pleasure. He learned one was quickly followed by the other. You have to hear him in total coital bliss to appreciate fully what I mean. Maybe someday you will because this fine boy is well on his way to a remarkable career as a bottom dweller. Pips and squeaks you could easily mistake for a chipmunk. And dog-like grunts and growls. A cute lovable doggie with big brown limpid eyes. As cute as any one of those little furry-forest dwelling creatures. I, the circling hungry horny hawk. Darby was an adventuresome boy. And curious. He heard the warnings about older men and boys, warnings that only whetted his appetite. Girls at school gushed over his cuteness and when grown men looked at him with that special gaze, he noticed. He noticed the tingling in his groin. Sometimes the gaze grew his bone. The other thing I liked about the kid was his smell. The smell of his clear, blemish-free skin. The smell of a boy whose hormones are just beginning to emerge. The smell of his hair when I held him close. The scent from his neck on a warm summer's day got me hot quickest. His breath just after sucking my cock was a very special smell. When he got into my bed, his deliveries complete, I stripped off his sweaty socks and licked his feet. Pre-adolescent toes against my face, best sniffed direct from the source. Giggles a plenty. Pungent, cheesy and sharp, that odor lingered in my nose longest. But most of all his cock and asshole. If anything confirmed me as a boy lover it was addiction to emanations from those intimate parts, the waft of his asshole especially sealed my abject adoration of him, of all boys. Scents from those areas made me hard faster than his alluring looks, his sensual mouth, or funny laugh--not that his looks were second class. Sweet boy, he permitted me to nuzzle my nose up under his hairless balls and draw in their tender puppy-like smell as long as I wanted. At those times he'd spread open his legs very wide and up would arise the unmistakable fragrance of shit--not disgusting or repulsive--but wonderfully ripe boy ass after a full day of school activities, and usually mixed with the perfume of whatever soap his mother provided. I stayed down there between his smooth thighs an awfully long time, between his legs, as he squeaked and squealed, holding my head, telling which boy classmate got him hot that day. One day it was Peter. With my tongue up into Darby's asshole he went into raptures about Peter and how sexy the 14 year old looked in skinny jeans. "I touched his ass today and he just turned a smiled! Nobody saw!" Another day it was an eighth grader named Simon whose dick, which Darby is sure is big, he'd give anything to suck on. There was Grayson--I heard his name often--same age. Darby is certain the boy is gay. He told me Grayson's eyes are hazel colored, and that one has invited him to spend the night. Up until I met Darby my bedmates had been my age, in the 25 to 35 year range. Kids didn't interest me--so I thought. Darby is the neighborhood paperboy. Darby's father was the old fashioned type. His kids were required to start contributing to the family income as soon as they were able. Twelve years old and already quite an accomplished working boy, working the bottom side. When I was his age I didn't like getting fucked, put up with it just to be able to turn around and do the fucking. Darby likes taking more than giving. For money. Was I the only one whose bell the paperboy rang daily, handing me the rag with dimpled smiles? Handing it over with a fetching smile and very tight skinny jeans. Shyly, and always with an eye-twinkling smile he rang my bell at about 4:45 each day. This special service went on for several weeks until I sensed he had something on his mind, something he wanted to ask, or tell. At the end of his route, my little one story bungalow was situated rather privately from which I could see bits and bobs of other houses through surrounding trees and dense foliage. I liked it that way. I worked at home so looked forward to his arrival as my work day ended. I grew to anticipate that smile. The anticipation grew into horniness. After lunch break I found it difficult to keep my concentration on work. The image of his fine little ass leaving my door kept popping up in front of spreadsheets. Shit. -0- More of Darby to cum. I welcome your suggestions & comments. I will reply. Julian Otero ba9ba9goodman@yahoo.com or ba9ba9goodman@tutanota.com Please remember to make a contribution to nifty and help keep this archive going strong. Regards, Julian Otero all my stories are here: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#julianotero