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Playing Hooky, 1963 - 2
by Pegboy (attaboy-jo-jo@hotmail.co.uk)

***

A fourteen-year-old boy is seduced by Alan, a soldier, 
and introduced to a group of horny film buffs. (MM/m-
teen, 1st-gay-expr, oral, anal)

***

PART 2

The cinema manager was giving me the evil eye when Alan and 
another man came up to me on that memorable Saturday. I had 
been standing outside the Rivoli for some twenty-five 
minutes, wondering whether to stay or go - I still felt a 
little guilty about having sex with a man, but the promise 
of seeing all those photographs of naked men kept me from 
walking away.

Alan introduced me to Howard, a man in his early fifties 
who spoke and dressed like a toff. He owned a 1959 Singer 
Gazelle, which, when I first saw it, was in serious need of 
a good wash. The plan was for us to visit Howard's cottage 
to check out his extensive collection of pornography, but 
before we did, Alan wanted me to meet a few more of his 
friends.

Some ten minutes later Howard drew up in front of a bicycle 
repair shop that had clearly seen better days. There were 
no new bikes for sale and the inside of the shop was dark 
and dingy, and littered with scores of old, clapped-out 
bicycles.

The shop had once been owned by Otto Glaser. Unfortunately, 
Otto had died in 1959, leaving Victor, his son, to run the 
business into the ground. Victor was far more interested in 
sex than bikes. However, he did use the business as a cover 
to employ Saturday boys: young lads that were paid to help 
out in the shop, but in reality, spent their working day 
upstairs, posing in front of a camera.

Victor and his friends had converted the upstairs stockroom 
into a studio. They would invite a boy to stand under the 
lights, take off his clothes and have sex in front of a 
camera. Most of the Saturday boys were recruited by Ian and 
John, who worked as carers at the local children's home. 
Other boys were picked up in the amusement arcades by Alan 
and Brian, a man who liked to show the local sea scouts the 
ropes.

Victor was willing to pay me ten shillings a day to work as 
a Saturday boy. I would have done the job for nothing, but 
as Alan explained, my parents needed to be convinced that I 
was there to earn money, not to have sex.

The three of us entered the shop and were immediately waved 
through to the back by Brian, who was standing behind the 
counter fiddling with a dynamo. We climbed a narrow flight 
of stairs and entered the stockroom on the first floor. The 
room was extremely large and separated into three areas: 
the one to the left had a black leather settee at its 
centre; the one to the right had a large double bed; and 
the area in the centre was filled with an untidy array of 
lighting stands and camera tripods, and standing amongst 
this photographic equipment were two naked men and a boy.

Ian acknowledged me with a wink and a smile as he stood 
listening to Victor's plan for the next scene. Apparently, 
prior to our arrival, Ian had seduced the eleven-year-old 
boy on the settee, stripped him naked and licked his cock 
into shape. The next scene would see the two of them move 
across to the bed and go at it like rabbits.

'Fucking thing,' said Victor, as he continued to fiddle 
with the tripod that was refusing to hold the 16mm cine-
camera in place.

The boy - a small, innocent-looking redhead with freckles - 
stood beside Victor holding a near empty bottle of Pepsi-
Cola in one hand and a large jar of Vaseline in the other. 
Initially, I was taken aback by this rather surreal scene; 
which, if you recall, was happening in a seaside town on 
the south-east coast of boring old England. However, I soon 
accepted the odd reality of the situation when Alan told me 
to, 'get with it, and get naked'.

The stockroom was now occupied by four naked men, one naked 
teenager, and one naked eleven-year-old boy.

'Well, bugger me,' said Victor, throwing his arms up in 
delight. 'Young Alan's brought us some good luck. The 
fucking tripod's stayed put this time.'

'I told you to use another tripod,' rebuked Howard. 'We've 
got three or four of them around here somewhere .... And 
what happens when you need to change the film?'

Howard looked at Alan and mumbled something uncomplimentary 
about Victor under his breath. He then switched on the bank 
of photofloods and waited for Ian and the boy to step back 
into the limelight.

'Okay, let's get this show on the road,' said Victor 
cheerfully. 'And don't forget, Darren. I want to see that 
cock of yours really hard by the time I zoom in for the 
first close-up.'

The boy smiled as Ian came up behind him, kissed the side 
of his neck and squeezed his tiny arse-cheeks. Howard put a 
reassuring hand on Victor's shoulder to let him know that 
they were still friends; and as he did so, Alan signalled 
that he and I should get out of the way and stand over by 
the curtained windows, which offered a better view of the 
developing sex romp.

Ian and Darren were quick to get into their stride. The 
young redhead was being held in a gentle embrace and urged 
to stroke his pencil-thin cock, which was some four inches 
long and uncut. Ian stood behind the boy and firmly pressed 
his cock and ball-sac into the small of the youngster's 
back.

'Ace,' said Victor, with a tremor in his voice. 'That looks 
so sexy.'

'Kiss and cuddle him some more,' suggested Howard. 'And 
play with his nips, Ian .... He likes that.'

Ian did as his friend suggested, which prompted the boy to 
nestled back in his lover's arms and give out a low moan of 
satisfaction. Everyone else in the room had a hand wrapped 
tightly around his own erection - the sight of a man having 
sex with a prepubescent boy was far too stimulating to 
ignore. The young sea scout's body was small and slim, with 
prominent shoulder blades and a ridged backbone. His silky 
smooth skin was stretched drum tight over his slender rib 
cage, and punctuated by tiny, hard-standing nipples. In 
contrast, Ian's body was large and muscular, and fit enough 
to fuck a whole boatload of sea scouts.

'Okay, Darren,' said Howard. 'Bend forward and let Ian's 
tongue go to work on that lovely bum-hole of yours.'

The boy spread his legs, leaned forward and placed his 
hands flat-out on the sheet covered bed. He then turned and 
smiled directly into the camera's lens as Ian knelt down, 
eased his arse-cheeks apart and began licking his 'lovely 
bum-hole'.

'That's it, that's it,' Victor enthused. 'It's a pity we 
haven't got the other camera up and running. We could have 
done with a close-up of both the head and the tail.'

'Just concentrate on the tail shot,' said Howard, patting 
Victor's right buttock with his free hand. 'You're no Roman 
Polanksi.'

'Maybe we should invite Polanksi to direct our next film,' 
said Victor. 'We could call it "Prick in the Water", or 
"Prick in the Arse", or maybe something a little more arty 
farty.'

'Just concentrate on the tail shot,' repeated Howard, 
wearily.

Alan and I stood by the curtained windows and watched 
Darren's body tense, relax, and then tense again in 
response to Ian's probing tongue. I became very envious of 
the redhead when I heard him cooing and sighing with such 
intensity. However, my envy suddenly vanished when Alan 
told me to spread my legs, leaned forward and take hold of 
my knees.

For some ten minutes Darren and I were treated to an 
exhilarating and mind-blowing bout of rimming. My whole 
body quaked with excitement as Alan used the tip of his 
tongue to keep me pleading for 'more, more, more' - just 
like Darren was doing on the end of Ian's greedy tongue.

'That's it, Alan,' said Howard. 'Get him ready for the four 
o'cock rock. We can fuck him on the bed later, after Ian's 
finished poking Darren.'

I looked up and saw Ian and Darren separate, clamber onto 
the bed and re-engage in a sixty-nine position. The cine-
camera zoomed in to capture a tight close-up of the boy 
struggling to cope with Ian's eight-inch cock - his mouth 
was simply too small to accommodate the whole thing in one 
go. Unfortunately, I missed out on what happened next. My 
head dropped and I gave out a howl of satisfaction - Alan's 
tongue had struck gold and I was right there to cash in on 
the strike.

I grasped my knees until they hurt; I shook my head until I 
was dizzy; and I kept saying 'don't stop' until I was blue 
in the face. I was on cloud nine and my four-inch cock, 
which was aching for relief and bouncing around in mid-air 
below my belly, was on cloud ten.

'What a horny little fucker,' said Howard. 'He certainly 
likes all that attention you're giving him, Alan.'

'Don't over do it,' added Victor. 'We don't want him 
shagged out before the big event.'

I shuddered with excitement as my imagination conjured up a 
vivid image of the 'big event': I was going to be fucked by 
dozens of big, burly men. They were all waiting outside the 
stockroom door, on the staircase, and they were all naked 
and extremely .... A hard slap on my right thigh brought me 
suddenly back to reality.

'Come on, son,' said Alan. 'Let's fool around on the settee 
for a while .... It'll be more comfortable.'

'But,' I said in a disappointed huff.

'No buts!' chide Alan. 'The settee awaits.'

From the glint in his eye, I knew that Alan was expecting 
me to reward him for all the hard work he had put in so 
far; and sure enough, the instant we were on the settee he 
assumed the position and invited me to use my tongue on his 
'love hole'.

'That's it, son,' he cooed, as my tongue probed the little 
starburst between his arse-cheeks. 'Keep doing.... Ah! Yes, 
yes, yes-s-s-s.'

Meanwhile, on the bed, Ian and Darren were locked in a 
passionate embrace. The camera had been moved to a new 
location, to get a better view of the action, and Howard 
and Victor were waiting for Ian to end the scene by turning 
the boy on his front and spreading his legs apart.

'That's great, Ian,' said Howard. 'Now in the next scene I 
want to see you climb aboard and take the young scallywag 
for a ride .... And don't worry about being too hard on 
him, he can handle it.'

As Ian reached for the Vaseline, Victor announced that he 
needed a couple of minutes to replace the film in the 
camera; a task which, when complete, didn't cause any of 
the problems Howard had envisaged earlier.

With a new film in the camera, Victor signalled to Howard 
that he was ready to resume filming.

'Okay, everybody,' said Howard. 'Let's get this show on the 
road. We have a hole to fill and an audience to please, so 
chop, chop.'

Darren sniggered and braced himself for the scene ahead. He 
had been fucked a good many times before, but never by a 
cock that was as big as Ian's. Howard usually teamed him up 
with boys from the children's home, although he had been 
fucked by a rather large dildo once.

The film in which he and the dildo had shared a scene 
together was based on one of Howard's abduction and rape 
fantasies. Three teenagers and a man, a Fagin-type 
character, jumped him in the park and carried him off to 
their liar. The gang stripped him naked and took turns in 
sucking his cock. The teenagers then tied him to a Long 
John coffee table and, before fucking him with the rubber 
dildo, helped the man redden his arse-cheeks with a leather 
strap.

Darren winced when Ian's cock-head entered his arsehole. 
The memory of the dildo and leather strap made him shudder 
as the Vaseline coated cock pushed its way into his rectum.

'Spread those legs apart, boy,' boomed Howard. 'And don't 
look so glum. It's good to have a cock up your bum.'

Victor looked up from the camera and gave an exaggerated 
sigh: he had heard the same old line a hundred times before 
from Howard. Darren was too preoccupied with Ian's lust for 
his arse to take much notice of the joke. He just shut his 
eyes and grimaced when the man's powerful buttocks began to 
pound his body into the mattress.

Because of all the attention he had received from Ian, the 
young sea scout was too exhausted to watch his replacement 
being stretched out on the bed and fucked in turn by Alan, 
Howard, Victor and Brian. All four men managed to put me in 
the same exhausted state as the redhead. In fact, Darren 
and I spent a good hour recovering on the settee while the 
men drank beer and discussed their sexual prowess.

* * * 

Two months later: 

Victor and Howard stood behind the cine-camera and waited 
for me to walk down the hallway and open the front door.

The opening edge of the door hit me full-square on the 
forehead as Brian and his friends burst into the cottage, 
pretending to be rapists. I was sent flying and hit the 
wall with an almighty thump.

The front door slammed shut as I was pinned against the 
wall by the three men. My air supply was cut off several 
times by hands pressing against my throat; my feet were 
trampled on by a variety of shoes and boots; and my cock 
and ball-sac were squeezed by some pretty powerful hands. I 
tried to break free when John began to rip off my clothes.

'That's it, son,' said Howard. 'Try to fight the rapists 
off. Let's make it look real!'

'Yeah,' said Brian, 'Let's make a fight of it. I like 
hurtin' young scallywags who don't wanna play ball.'

'Ease up, Brian,' said Victor. 'He's only had a couple of 
rough-sex sessions so far. I think three onto one might be 
too much for the lad.'

'Shut up, dozy,' said Howard to Victor. 'It's a rape scene, 
so let's get the lad naked and ready for some rumpy pumpy.'

'He's a nice looking boy,' said Ian, running his fingers 
through my hair. 'Let's find him a comfortable bed to lie 
on.'

The men stripped me naked and frog-marched me along the 
hallway, up the stairs and into the spare bedroom.

'Stand with your feet apart and your hands behind your 
head, fingers interlocked like,' ordered John.

I did as I was told as the camera zoomed in on my face, 
which had just been slapped hard by Brian.

The three men circled me, like sharks.

'Alan told us you've been humped by that loon, Lance 
Worthington,' said Ian. 'How was it?'

'Not good. The bastard nearly bit my ear off the last time 
he shagged me.'

'Don't you like being roughed up then, sunshine?' asked 
John.

'It all depends on who's doing the roughing up.'

'Oh my, we have a prima donna on our hands,' said John to 
Brian.

Suddenly, and without warning, Brian punched me in the 
stomach. I doubled up and stumbled back into John's arms. 
The man grabbed me, and then held me in a full-nelson while 
Brian punched me in the stomach again.

'I'll bite your fuckin' cock off if you start acting all 
lardy-da with me,' snarled Brian.

'Is that clear, sunshine?' added John.

Winded, I tried to reply by nodding my head, but John's 
grip made it impossible.

'I can't hear you,' said Brian, punching me again.

'Yes-s-s,' I spluttered, as John released me. 'I didn't 
mean it in that way. I'm no prima...'

'Button it, arsehole,' interrupted Ian. 'Now get on the bed 
and start playing with yourself.'

I spread myself out on the stripped-down bed and took hold 
of my flaccid cock. The three men watched me intensely as 
they undressed.

'Now I need to punish you with this,' said John, holding up 
a twelve-inch, wooden ruler. 'My old teacher always used a 
wooden ruler to punish me when I was naughty. What did your 
teacher use?'

'The same,' I lied, sycophantically.

'Good, good; so you're happy for me to punish you with this 
little beauty?' asked John.

'Yes, sir,' I lied again. 'But I ain't no prima donna, 
honest I ain't.

'No excuses now,' said Ian. 'You did wrong, so you must be 
punished properly.'

'Yes, sir.'

I thought the man was going to use the ruler on my hand. 
However, I was taken completely by surprise when he pulled 
my hand away and whacked my hard-standing cock instead.

'Fuckin' hell!' I shrieked, sitting up abruptly. 'That 
fuckin' hurt.'

The second blow brought tears to my eyes as Brian ensured 
that I didn't try to cover my genitals with my hands. He 
then had to use some considerable force to prevent me from 
fending off the third blow.

I was still f-ing and blinding when they rolled me over, 
onto my front, and began punishing my arse-cheeks and the 
soles of my feet. I buried my face in the mattress and 
yelled at the top of my voice as the ruler went to work on 
my backside and feet.

'Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!' I continued to yell when the ruler was 
replaced with an onslaught of biting and slapping. My arse 
and feet were bright red from the assault, but still the 
three ruffians kept hurting me.

It was only when I stopped swearing and made a promise to 
be good did they pull the plug on the pain. However, the 
sex that followed was just as manic and uncomfortable as 
the stuff that had gone on before.

For most of the time I was held in an agonizing jack-knife 
position, with my head stuck between my feet and my arse up 
in the air. The three men, who all had some pretty heavy 
stubble, took great delight in grazing on my arse-crack, 
anus and ball-sac. My inflamed cock and arse-cheeks were 
also treated to the stubble's rough caress.

'He tastes real good,' said John to Ian. 'Maybe we should 
take him home with us tonight. Keep him locked up in the 
basement for a couple of weeks. What'cha say?'

'Good idea,' replied Ian. 'He could be our live-in sex 
slave.'

'Let's see if he can bend over a little more and suck on 
his own cock,' suggested Brian.

'I don't think I can, sir,' I said.

'Nonsense,' said John, as he pushed down on my arse and 
thighs. 'Let me give you a helping hand.'

'Argggh!' I shrieked. 'It hurts, it hurts.'

'What a baby,' chide Ian. 'Let me help.'

The men pushed and pulled me into a variety of painful and 
contorted positions before finally admitting defeat. They 
then took hold of my ankles and dragged me off the bed. I 
hit the floor with a bump, and was kicked in the side as 
Brian ordered me to lie flat out on my back, with my mouth 
open.

John's hard-standing cock filled my mouth as the weight of 
his body pressed down on my face. I was gagging on his cock 
and fighting for air at the same time, and as I struggled, 
Ian began hitting my cock with the twelve-inch ruler.

For ten to fifteen minutes I was forced to endure John's 
brutal face-fucking and Ian's spiteful assault on my cock, 
ball-sac and feet. I was a total wreck by the time they 
threw me back on the bed and spread my arse-cheeks apart.

John was the first to fuck me. His cock replaced Ian's 
Vaseline-covered fingers and stretched my rectum to the 
maximum. The man then pounded my body into the mattress 
while I lay, in a daze, on a sweat-soaked sheet.

'Fuck him harder, John,' said Howard. 'He can take it.'

Sweat continued to pour off me as John held me down and 
fucked me like there was no tomorrow. He then stopped for a 
moment, feigning a possible respite, before plunging in 
again and humping me even more ferociously.

I was huffing and puffing like an old steam engine by the 
time he finally gave up his seed. The bedroom echoed to the 
sound of animal-like grunts and groans as John came down 
from cloud nine and collapsed on top of me.

'Fuckin' sweet!' exclaimed Brian. 'What a show! What a 
fuckin' horny show.'

John rolled off me a few minutes later and called on Ian to 
take over. I was mounted and lanced to the spot before I 
had a chance to request a five-minute breather. Ian's hard-
standing cock was less formidable than his friend's wand, 
but still it took its toll on my burning hole.

'Come on, slacker,' said Howard to Ian. 'Ride him hard! 
Make him cough up your cock-head.'

Ian renewed his efforts by grabbing hold of my shoulders 
and increasing his stroke rate.

'In, out! In, out!' chanted Brian.

I raised my head off the mattress and shook the sweat from 
my brow. The man was power fucking me like Worthington had 
done a week earlier - I began to fear for my ears.

'In, out! In, out!' continued Brian. 'Fuck his brains out.'

The two of us began grunting and groaning in unison as my 
inner sanctum was flooded by yet another load of man-seed. 
Ian's climax lasted a good deal longer than John's, and 
still he continued to fuck me in fits and starts for some 
time after.

Brian's cock slipped into my hole a few seconds after Ian 
had rolled off me, exhausted. The scout master hammered 
away at my arse for a good ten to fifteen minutes. He then 
flooded my inner sanctum with his seed as the camera zoomed 
in to capture me jabbering away in a language that no one, 
including myself, understood.

'The poor sod's delirious,' said Brian to Howard. 'Let's 
call it a day and hit the bathroom.'

*  *  *

I was in a daze after the men had cleaned me up in the 
bathroom and walked me back to the bedroom. I sat on the 
bed and watched them get dressed in total silence. Brian 
then left the room for a few minutes to retrieve a raincoat 
from Howard's cloakroom.

John and Ian dressed me in the oversized coat, which had 
clearly been all the rage in the 1940s, and threatened to 
beat me to a pulp if I didn't leave the cottage with them.

'My clothes; I can't leave without my clothes,' I said, 
trembling with fear.

'Don't worry, Alan. You'll be back within the hour,' said 
Howard. 'I just want you to suck off a very good friend of 
mine. That's all.'

'Yes, okay,' I said, nervously. 'But please let me put my 
clothes on.'

'No,' said John. 'You go as you are. No ifs; no buts; no 
noise.'

The trip to the barn took an age. I bumped around in the 
boot of the car and cursed my bad luck for being so weak 
and willing; and little did I know that Howard's very good 
friend had four legs and a tail.

- - - - -

(c) 2007 Pegboy

All comments welcome (attaboy-jo-jo@hotmail.co.uk)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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