BLONDIE

Chapter 1

Ever had one of those days when something unexpected happens? One of those days when the stars align and everything just falls into place? The stars must have been shining down on me one summer day in 1978. It was August. It was hot. And so were the fashions for preteen boys. I mean, come on: very short shorts? Very tight jeans? Sleeveless shirts and vests? Shirts tied and knotted around their waists, revealing a midriff and belly button? Long hair styles? Tight speedos? A veritable feast for the eyes. And no one thought twice if you stopped to chat with these boy gods. Attitudes were very different then. Free and easy. And no CCTV, no mobile phones, no 'tracking' software, no computers. The only things boys walked around with, apart from their incredible bodies, were frisbees and skateboards.

I saw him up ahead from my position at the wheel of my camper van. Early afternoon. The sun was high and so was my libido. As I drove closer, I slowed to take a look at him. Long blonde, tousled hair. Tanned skin, soft and smooth. The fine blonde hair on his exposed arms, catching the sunlight. Blue eyes, crystal clear. White shirt unbuttoned at the front, but tied and knotted, and yes, revealing a bare midriff and an exquisite 'innie' belly button. Blue satin style shorts with a vibrant yellow stitching. The shorts went right up to his buttocks. It was clear he wasn't wearing underwear. Long white socks that reached to his calves. Blue and white trainers. I drove past him and stopped by the side of the road, and waited for him to catch up.

The road was clear of other people and traffic. No houses nearby, just the entrance to a park. I guessed that's where he was heading. That's where I'd stopped the van. I got out of the van and opened the side door, pretending I was looking for something inside. Blondie – I decided to call him that – meandered along, slowly getting closer. I guessed his age at ten, maybe eleven, as I viewed him out of the corner of my eye. Blondie was now by the van, and, sure enough, started to make his way to the entrance to the park. I saw the tops of his legs, I saw the hint of bum cheeks, I saw his blonde hair fly up and down from the back of his slender neck as he walked towards the park. I saw my opportunity. No one around. I grabbed him from behind, placed my hand over his mouth, and before he knew what was happening, or had a chance to shout or struggle, bundled him into the open side door of the van. I slid it shut and locked it. I hurried to the driver's seat.

Turning to look at the startled boy, I told him, with menace: "Don't make a sound or try to escape, or draw attention to yourself. If you do, I'll hit you. Hard."

Blondie looked at me with terrified eyes and nodded his head vigorously in compliance to my demand.

"Lie down on that bed and cover your eyes and head with the pillow. Do not look to see where I'm taking you. Understand?"

Blondie did as he was told. I started the engine and drove off.

I knew exactly where I would take my precious booty. I would take him to the place I was heading to anyway. The woods. Isolated. I had planned to spend the weekend there alone, to take myself away from it all. Now I planned to spend the weekend with Blondie, to take away his clothes and his virginity.

Chapter 2

Blondie was remarkably quiet. During the hour's drive to my destination, he kept still on the camper van bed, moving only very slightly to change his position, from on his back, to his side, and back again. The pillow remained covering his head, held in place by his slender young arms and hands. I kept glancing in the rear view mirror, adjusted slightly for me to watch him, to make sure he did what I said. I maneuvered the van through several trails in the woods until I reached a spot I knew would be secluded and very private. I stopped the engine. Birdsong and the occasional rustle of trees was all that was heard. I got out of the driver's seat and made my way to where Blondie was lying. I removed the pillow from his face.

"You and I are going to have some fun," I told him.

Blondie curled himself up into a foetal position, which was fine from my point of view: I could see right up his short shorts and it confirmed what I really had known already: no underwear. Blondie was showing more of his ass cheeks.

"Get up," I said in a stern voice, "If you do as I say, no harm will come to you."

Blondie slipped off the bed. I looked directly in his eyes, my face inches away from his.

"I'll tell you this. No one is going to hear any cries for help. You are deep in the woods and if you try to run away, you will get lost very easily. I am your only means of getting out of here. Is that clear?"

Blondie looked down and very quietly said "Yes."

I was determined to enjoy every moment spent with my catch. "Let's go outside," I said. I unlocked the side door of the van, stepped out, and gestured Blondie to follow.

The trees created a shady, sun dappled area. The moving tree shadows danced on the ground and on Blondie's white shirt. I untied the knotted shirt and opened it up, and I looked at his bare chest. I gently removed the shirt from one of his shoulders. Blondie was what you might call 'slender'. Not in a puny way; his ribs were well defined, and his shoulder and upper arm showed a little muscle development. I slipped the shirt from his other shoulder and removed the garment from his body.

"You won't need this any more today," I told him, as I threw the shirt into the camper van.

Blondie stood awkwardly, with his arms in front of his chest, as if he was shy or embarrassed of his body. I studied him some more, and then ordered him to put his hands on his head. This, he did. Blondie's nipples were small, but then again, so was he. I'd estimate about three and a half feet [1.10 m]. To me, he was a perfect specimen of boyhood. Fresh-faced, small nose, blonde eyebrows, long eyelashes, high cheek bones and a kissable, full, wet, mouth. He had a flat stomach and tiny waist: not skinny, but lean and as I said, 'slender'. Blondie's wonderful belly button, I knew, I would be exploring later.

"You can take your hands down, now," I ordered.

Blondie did as I commanded. I didn't want to know his real name, or where he came from, or if he was on his way to meet his friends when I interrupted his plans for the day. I wanted him to remain a mystery to me. Blondie, it would seem, didn't want to say much anyway. Probably scared out of his wits. Which gave me the edge. An advantage. And I was going to exploit that fully. I issued another command: "Turn around."

Blondie immediately did so. Blondie's shoulder blades stuck out, just like a boy of his age should. He had a few dark freckles on the back of his neck and shoulders. These were accentuated in contrast to his tanned skin. I followed the contour of his spine down to his blue satin style shorts. God, that ass! That glimpse of bum cheeks. I considered myself very fortunate to be in the middle of nowhere with this compliant package of delight.

I took a large bag from inside the camper van and emptied out the contents. Snacks. Drinks: cold in a cool box, packed with ice.

"Here," I said, touching Blondie's back with a cold can of soda.

Blondie jerked at the feeling of cold on his body, then turned around and accepted my offering. I opened a can of beer, took in some air. I sat on the edge of the camper van's open door and told Blondie to sit beside me. I gulped down some cold beer. Blondie sipped nervously on his can of soda. I slipped my hand on his thigh.

Chapter 3

Blondie almost spilled his can of soda. I felt his leg tense up. I saw his face freeze. He managed to utter a request: "Please…I want to go home."

"I told you," I said with a raised voice, "We're here to have some fun."

Blondie started to find his voice: "But…"

I interrupted him: "Shut up. Who told you to say anything? You keep quiet, understand?"

Blondie acknowledged with a nod of his head, and a downcast, frightened look on his face. I gave Blondie another command: "In the van, you'll find a large folded-up blanket. Get it and bring it out."

I took another gulp of beer while Blondie looked for the blanket. "This one?" he asked, nervously.

"That's the one. Give it to me."

I told Blondie to sit back down on the camper van's open edge, while I got up, unfolded the blanket and spread it on the ground. I ordered Blondie to "Come here!"

Blondie did so.

"Lay face down on the blanket."

Blondie blinked a couple of times, stared wide-eyed at the blanket, and then did as he was told. He placed his hands and arms under his head to support it.

"Open your legs."

I took a moment to absorb the beauty laid before me. The flickering shadows of the trees, painting moving shapes and patterns on his body. The short shorts showing a little more of his bare ass cheeks. I knelt down and began removing his trainers. Blondie offered no resistance, he just buried his face in his arms and the blanket. I caressed and massaged his feet, while his white socks were still on. They weren't on for long. I slipped them off and looked at his bare feet and legs. My hands began to stroke the back of his smooth legs, starting at the ankles, slowly moving up to his calves. I caressed his inner thighs. My hands found their way into Blondie's shorts and I lingered on his butt cheeks, then located his ass crack. I pulled his shorts a little to the left and had my first view of his butt. My finger traced down the curve of his bum crack and then I gently rubbed one of his cheeks.

"Turn over," I said sharply.

Blondie complied. His face was frozen with fear, his body trembling. He avoided eye contact with me. Blondie just stared up at the trees, shielding the sun's rays from his eyes with his arm. I started the same procedure with the front of his legs, but stopped short at the top of his thighs. I laid close beside him and began stroking his belly, and kissed one of his nipples. I felt Blondie's body tense up.

"Relax," I told him, "You'll enjoy this."

Blondie said nothing, but I knew he was unconvinced. No matter. I continued to concentrate on his belly and nipple. My tongue flicked on and around his nipple. My hand caressed and stroked his belly. I kissed his neck. I kissed his mouth. Lips only, no tongue. Not yet, anyway. I got up and knelt beside him. My hands traced their way to either side of Blondie's shorts and I took hold of the elastic waist band.

"Lift up your bottom," I commanded.

Blondie used his feet and legs to raise his bottom from the blanket. I tugged at his shorts and pulled them down. In a brief moment, his shorts were by his ankles and I removed them completely. I took my time looking at Blondie's naked body.

"Spread your legs, boy," was my next command.

Blondie did so. Blondie's cock was long, pencil-thin, uncircumcised, and resting between his legs and cradled between his two balls. Blondie's ball sack was small and tight. His ass crack looked extremely enticing.

Some people prefer a circumcised boy. Not me. I love the joy of pulling back the foreskin and revealing the tip. I had that pleasure to come. To my surprise, Blondie had no tan lines. His body was a light, golden brown all over. I'm going to enjoy gorging on this chicken, I thought to myself.

Chapter 4

It was time for me to explore Blondie's genital area. I went straight for his penis and lifted it up, rolling it around my fingers, and then started a masturbatory motion. Young boys can't help but get a stiffy when stimulated. Correction: Young boys have no control as to when it might happen, stimulated or otherwise. Blondie had no control. His penis sprang to life. I massaged this three-inch [8 cm] wonder, and started to lick it with my tongue. It jiggled and danced around my tongue as I explored it. I took hold of it and started to pull back Blondie's foreskin. I licked the tip. I engulfed the little cocklet with my mouth, and began to suck. Blondie yelped and groaned. Blondie's back arched. Blondie tried to turn his body away. I held him down and continued to suck. My hand found its way between his legs and I began to massage his balls while my mouth continued to savor the taste of boy cock. I must have spent a good ten minutes pleasuring my boy treasure in this way. I then started to lick his upper body. My tongue probed his belly button, all the while stroking and massaging his little dickie. Another ten minutes of this, and I was ready to explore further.

"Get up, turn over and kneel. On all fours. Like a doggy," I ordered, "And keep your legs open."

I watched and concentrated on every movement as Blondie meekly obeyed. Blondie's beautiful little ball sack twitched slightly as he assumed the position. His sweet, stiff little cocklet proudly pointing forwards. Slender legs, tight little ass cheeks.

"Move your arms down to the blanket, bend your back, and raise your bottom in the air," I instructed him.

As he did so, I was in prime position to view the unveiling of his asshole. Fresh and clean. Pink. Inviting.

Boys in 1978 were not as worldly-wise as they are today. Sex education wasn't taught until at least the age of thirteen or fourteen. Sex wasn't talked about except as bragging rights and rumors among their peers. The boys of 1978 were innocents. I was about to change that when it came to Blondie. As I studied Blondie's beautiful anus, I asked him: "How old are you?"

"Ten," came the soft, muffled, quavering reply.

I inquired further: "When were you ten?"

Blondie said quietly, in a high voice that seemed to trail away: "July…."

This boy's asshole I was staring at had only just turned ten!? I made sure: "July, last month?"

"Yes," Blondie almost whispered. Wow! Can this day get any better? I was going to make sure it did.

"Stay as you are. Do not move," I told him as I got up to retrieve something from the camper van. I was never a boy scout, but I liked their motto: 'Be Prepared.'

I returned from the van with a jar of Vaseline. I knelt down again and placed my hands on my little boy's smooth, soft, tanned ass cheeks and parted them so that his hole was on display in its gorgeous fullness.

There are some people that think a boy's most private, intimate part of his anatomy is his cock. Not me. What does it for me every time is the ass and hole:

1) The softness, smoothness, freshness and newness of a boy's bottom, and the anticipation of the reveal.

2) The full exposure of a boy's asshole.

3) Does he keep it clean? and

4) The movement of the anus muscles; does the asshole contract and dilate?

As far as Blondie was concerned, the answer to these questions was a resounding yes. I prized the lid off the jar of Vaseline.

Chapter 5

I kissed Blondie's bum cheeks. One, then the other. I allowed my tongue to slurp and taste naked boy butt. I moved Blondie's buns around with my hands, watching the changing shape of his sweet anus as I did so. "Stay still," I told my little prey. I felt like a cat, pleased with itself when it had caught a bird. Unlike a cat, I wasn't going to kill or injure my catch; just toy with it, for as long as possible.

For all I knew, there may have been fancy gels and lubricants available, but for me, in 1978, Petroleum Jelly was de rigueur. I dipped my finger into the jar of Vaseline and began to apply some of the unctuous substance to Blondie's fresh, young, exposed bum. I started at the top of his crease and slathered my way down, paying close attention to Blondie's little opening, smearing it around his anus. I continued down and, I couldn't help it, smeared some on his scrotum and cock. Blondie twitched slightly every now and then, jerking his muscles spasmodically at the places I happened to be concentrating on at the time.

Blondie got bold. With trepidation in his voice, he asked: "What are you doing?"

I decided to tell him: "I'm going to finger fuck your little boy pussy."

There was a pause before Blondie's slight voice inquired further: "What does that mean?"

I smiled at his naivety. "It means, I'm going to push my finger up your ass and feel you up."

Blondie plucked up the courage to turn his head to look at me: I swear, there's not a sight in the world to compare with a beautiful boy's face looking back at you while his bare backside and asshole, balls and cocklet, are on full display.

"Will it hurt?" he asked.

"Maybe. But only for a minute. Now stay still."

Blondie dropped his head and I could see his eyes clenched tight, as was his anus.

"If you relax a little, and let my finger in, it won't hurt as much," I said, as I patted one of his bum cheeks.

Blondie tried to relax. It didn't matter, I was going to do it anyway. I reached into the jar of Vaseline for another finger full, and smeared it around Blondie's hole. Slowly, I began to prize open Blondie's little treasure cave. "Open Sesame," I said to myself. My finger started to penetrate his tight little hole. Very delicately, I pushed my finger in, a tiny bit at a time. God, he was tight. I could feel his rectum wrapping around my finger. I could hear Blondie: "Eeeeh," "Aaaah," Oooh," as my finger explored deeper. When I decided I was in as far as I could go, I began moving my finger forwards and backwards.

"Owww," Blondie cried. "Urgh," "Eeeeh!" For all the noises he was making, there were no pleas from him to make me stop. I was expecting him to tell me 'It hurts,' but no. Just noises. High-pitched ones. Not screams of pain. Not loud noises. Just "Oooh," "Ummmm," and the occasional grunt. Blondie's breath began to quicken and he began panting. Was he enjoying this? I quickened the pace of my finger thrusts. Blondie's body and bum began a rocking movement in synch with my finger.

I had to ask him: "Are you liking this?"

Blondie, between breathless panting, said: "It's… weird… but… but… Ohhh!" I took that as a 'yes'.

My cock had been rock hard in my pants from the moment I saw Blondie. Now, it was like the hardest substance I'd ever known. As hard as a diamond. With my other hand, I had to relieve the tension and dig out my diamond from its mine. I managed to unzip my pants and expose my jewel to the atmosphere. I could have satisfied my desires by stopping the action, removing my clothes and pumping Blondie's ass with my diamond drill, but I showed restraint. I had the whole weekend to do that. I didn't want to stop the momentum of the finger fuck.

It suddenly occurred to me that while I was concentrating on liberating, and bringing my diamond to the surface, I had actually stopped my finger motion in Blondie's ass. I realized it was Blondie rocking back and forth. Blondie was riding my finger! I watched in amazement as Blondie pushed himself forward and back, enjoying the presence of my digit in his back passage. This was going to be one hell of a weekend, I thought to myself.

Chapter 6

I let Blondie continue fucking my finger for a short while, then I told him to stop, and I withdrew.

"Did I do it right?" a timid voice asked me.

"What do you mean?" I countered.

"It's just…"

I was intrigued. "Go on," I said.

"It's just that you stopped wiggling your finger. I thought…"

"What did you think?" I asked him.

"I thought I had to start wiggling my bum, or you might hit me."

I realized just how frightened this boy was of me. I had complete control over him. I could do anything with him. And I planned to do just that.

"I'll hit you hard if you don't do exactly what I tell you from now on. Is that clear?"

Blondie started to cry. He was still bent over, his ass in the air. "Turn over and sit on the blanket."

As Blondie moved, I felt in my pocket for a small pack of tissues. Boy Scout motto: 'Be prepared': tissues have a lot of uses. I opened the packet and said, as I handed it to Blondie, "Here. Stop that sniffling."

"I want to go home," Blondie struggled to say, through gulps and gasps of air as the tears flowed.

"I've only just got started with you. I'll tell you when it's time to go home," I growled. Blondie wiped his eyes and blew his nose in the tissue.

"You hungry?" I asked of my captive.

"I suppose…," Blondie's voice trailed away.

"We'll have a campfire later, and I'll cook some burgers. For now, I have some sandwiches."

"How long are we staying here?" Blondie asked.

"For as long as it takes," I retorted. I brought out a plastic container from what was left in the bag. I opened it. "There's ham, cheese, peanut butter. Bags of snacks. What do you want?"

"Peanut butter," was Blondie's reply.

I handed the plastic container over to him, pointing out the filling he had chosen. Blondie took two and began to eat, sheepishly and guarded. I offered him another can of soda. He accepted. Blondie munched on the sandwich, then took a mouthful of soda, swallowed, and asked: "Can I put my clothes on now?"

I replied with a curt "No."

I paused, then said: "It's hot. You won't need clothes for the rest of the day. In fact, I'm going to take mine off. We'll be naked together."

Blondie's eyes widened and a look of fear ran over his face. He stared blankly ahead while I got undressed, close by his side. I got down to my underwear. I turned to face Blondie and said: "Pull these off me."

Blondie shook his head.

"Do as I say, or you'll be sorry," I barked.

Blondie winced, and then looked at me. He could see my obvious arousal in my underwear. Blondie took hold of my underwear and yanked them down. I stepped out of my briefs and stood in front of Blondie's face.

"Touch it. Take hold of it," I said, looking down on him.

Blondie hesitated.

"Do it!" I said, forcefully.

Blondie lightly put his fingers on my erect cock.

"Take hold of it properly," I demanded.

Blondie wrapped his fingers around my penis, and lightly gripped it.

"Now kiss it, like I did yours," I told him.

Blondie drew back my foreskin and kissed the tip.

Hmmm, I thought, He remembered that I pulled his skin back. Interesting.

I issued another command: "Put it in your mouth, and suck on it."

Blondie looked up at me with pleading eyes, begging me to stop this.

"Put… it… in… your… mouth… and… SUCK… it," I said slowly and deliberately.

Blondie opened his mouth, and with what appeared to be a look of total disgust, wrapped his lips around my dick.

"Suck!" I said again.

Blondie started sucking, then took his mouth away, coughed and spat out what I knew to be pre-cum.

"It tastes horrible," Blondie remarked.

"I don't care what you think it tastes like. Get it back in your mouth , and SUCK IT, boy!"

After wiping his mouth with his arm, he accepted my cock inside his mouth once again, and began to suck. I watched his little face cheeks draw in, as if he were sucking on a straw, taking in a milk shake. He was going to do just that: take in my milk, after he'd shaken it up a little.

"Take hold of my balls. Rub them. Keep sucking."

It occurred to me Blondie may have the presence of mind to inflict damage to me, after my latest instruction to him. But I had the confidence that he would do anything I told him to. The threat of some unknown violence to him if he didn't, must be playing on his mind. Blondie took hold of my balls and began to fondle them gently. The feeling of his little soft hand was exquisite. His face a picture as he continued to suck my, what to him, would be an enormous cock. It was true I was well endowed, and in an aroused state, my dick was something to behold. And hold it he did. Blondie continued sucking, pausing for breath every now and then. I could feel my balls filling up, prior to squirting my seed into Blondie's unsuspecting orifice.

Chapter 7

I shot my load.

Blondie withdrew his mouth and started gagging, then coughing, then spitting.

"Wasn't expecting that, were you?" I said with a smirk on my face.

"Uurgh!" Blondie spluttered: "What was that?"

"Your first taste of my home-made milk shake. It's an acquired taste. You'll get used to it," I told him, grinning.

"I won't! It's horrible!" Blondie replied.

I detected some dissent in the ranks. I had to put a stop to that. "Don't talk back. I can see I'm going to have to teach you a lesson."

I grabbed hold of Blondie's arm, knelt down on one knee, and bent Blondie's naked frame over the other one. I slapped his bare backside.

"Ow!" he shrieked. Blondie tried to put his hands over his tush to prevent me from inflicting another blow.

I held his back down with my arm and, with one hand, took hold of both his wrists, keeping them away from his bum. With my free hand I whacked his ass again, firmer this time. The sound of the slap reverberated around the clearing. Another whack.

"Stop it! Please!" Blondie yelled. The first time I'd heard his voice in other than a near whisper.

"I'll decide when I'll stop," I yelled back at him. Whack! Another blow on his bare bum.

"Ow!"

Whack!

"Ow…wowww!"

I smacked his ass one more time. I took the opportunity to rub his now glowing red cheeks. I lifted him upright from my knee and deposited him down on his feet in front of me. I got to my feet. Blondie started rubbing his tight little bum, and in front, I watched as his penis wiggled and swung from side to side with his motion.

"That's nothing," I said to him. "Any more cheek from you, and I'll hit you where it really hurts. You'll wish you'd never been born."

Blondie started sobbing again.

"Don't waste your tears," I said. "I still have plans for you."

Blondie ran into the camper van and I heard a familiar squeak. A sound I knew of the camper van bed being occupied. I heard Blondie sniffing back tears. I left him alone.

I busied myself setting up a campfire, ready for the night, and preparing the ingredients necessary for burgers. It was still light at eight o'clock when Blondie emerged from the van. He had found his white shirt and had attempted to wrap it around his waist, hanging down, in a bid to cover his nakedness. His trainers, short shorts and socks were still on the blanket, where I'd left them after undressing him earlier.

"Take that off," I said menacingly.

"But I'm cold," he replied.

"It's thirty degrees [85°F]. Don't give me that. Take your shirt off, or I'll take it off for you."

Blondie meekly untied the shirt and slipped it off. It was good to see his little cock again. And his slender, nude, body. I had an idle thought: If I were a ruler of a country or principality, I would make it a decree, a law, that all good looking boys up to the age of fourteen would spend their growing up years completely naked. And I would have my pick of them. In this isolated part of the woods, I WAS a ruler, and Blondie my subject, and my 'in the raw' law, applied to him.

"Come here," I said. "If you're cold, I must do something to warm you up."

Blondie was reluctant; I think my idea of 'fun' was different to his.

"Come HERE," I said in a louder voice.

Blondie inched slowly forward.

"Stand in front of me."

Blondie swallowed hard and acquiesced.

"Now, what part of your body is cold?" I asked, mockingly.

"It's alright," he said, "I've warmed up now."

I laughed. I took hold of his little stringbean cock. I knelt down in front of him and began massaging. It sprang to attention. I enveloped it with my mouth. I clasped my hands behind him on his two ass cheeks, and I rocked him back and forth, while my mouth enjoyed sucking on his little weenie. When I'd finished, I slid my hands off his bum and held him by his waist, stroking it with my thumbs. I looked at his body for a time, and then his face.

"Let's eat," I said.

Chapter 8

We both devoured our burgers, cooked over the flames of the campfire. It had yet to turn dark, but dusk was on its way. I settled back in a fold-up chair I had brought out from the van. As my original plan only involved myself, I saw no reason to load up the van with unnecessary equipment. That's why Blondie sat on the blanket. I drained the can of beer I had been drinking, and set it down on the grass. I looked at Blondie. I figured perhaps I should mellow a bit. After all, he couldn't find his way out of these woods without my help. He was naked. And perhaps I was a little too harsh with him. He was quiet, understandably scared, and I thought it was time to show him some kindness, but I needed to control him and for him to remain docile for the next day and a half. And how was I going to release him once I'd had this weekend with him? And who was going frantic and out of their mind with worry over their missing child? I had no communication with the outside world. The camper van radio was busted, so I couldn't listen to any news reports. And anyway, I didn't want to. And I sure as heck didn't want Blondie, or whatever his name really is, to hear anything. I looked at this vulnerable child, thinking he was a naked wood nymph, coming out to play at night.

"Hey, kid," I called.

Blondie turned his head to look at me.

"Come and sit on my lap."

Blondie seemed more relaxed after he'd been fed and watered. He jumped up from the blanket and walked towards me. He looked at my cock, probably to check it was 'resting', and then positioned his little butt on my lap. I cuddled him. He put his arms around me, and rested his head on my chest. I guess he was feeling sleepy.

Without looking up at me, Blondie said: "Why are you doing this to me?"

I stumbled for an answer. "I saw you today and thought you were a very beautiful boy, and I wanted to spend some time with you. I want you to have fun."

There was a pause, then Blondie said: "But how can I have fun when I'm scared of you?"

"Are you scared of me now?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied softly.

"There's really no need," I said, realizing that I was making a chink in my own armor. I continued: "I'm a pussy-cat, really."

Yes, I thought to myself; a pussy cat whose trapped a wonderful thing and won't let it go until I've had my way with it and until I get bored."

I asked Blondie another question: "What did you think of the game we played with my finger in your bum. Did you like it?"

Blondie: "I didn't at first. You sounded so mean. It felt so weird, but I did like it in the end."

I laughed. "In the end. Your end!"

Blondie looked up at me. It was the first time I had seen him smile and laugh. It was intoxicating. His whole face lit up, his white teeth flashed in the half-light. I didn't want to break the mood, so I didn't mention the two times I had with my cock in his mouth, or his cock in mine.

"Tomorrow," I said, "I'll take you to a stream that's not far from here. We can both freshen up. And I'll teach you another game. It's called 'sixty-nine'."

Blondie said: "That sounds cool. Then can I go home?"

"No," I said, "There's still a lot I want to show you. Tomorrow will be a busy day. And it must be past your bedtime."

I told Blondie to go to bed in the camper van. I would sleep under the stars. I thought: yes, the stars that aligned to bring me you. Blondie wriggled off my lap and started to walk to the van. He stopped, turned and looked at me, and asked: "This game, 'sixty-nine'. Does it have something to do with my willy, or my bum?"

"Go to sleep," was all I said in reply. I watched his 'bum' as he disappeared into the van. I followed a moment later and slid the camper van door shut, then locked it.

"Hey!" I heard Blondie say.

"Go to sleep," I said, "Don't want you having any ideas about trying to escape. I'm a light sleeper. I'll hear any noise if you try to climb through an open window or door in the night."

I waited until things went quiet in the van, then I prepared my sleeping bag. Goodnight, Blondie, I thought to myself, I need you wide awake tomorrow. I'm gonna keep you occupied… with my dick.

Chapter 9

I woke before dawn. The still, quietness of the woods, I knew, would soon be filled with a whole variety of birdsong. I lingered in my sleeping bag until the first light of day appeared. The trees deflected the early sun's rays, causing beams and shards of light to pierce their majesty. I slipped out of the sleeping bag, and while rolling it up, looked over at the blanket, and gazed at Blondie's discarded trainers, socks and short shorts. I liked calling them 'short' shorts, because that's what they were; my first sight of him in those, reaching up to his ass, and then some, was the reason he was with me now. I picked them up and sniffed them. A woodland scent had impregnated them, and mingled with the sweet perfume of preteen boy.

I walked over to the camper van and looked in the window. Blondie was sleeping. Mouth open slightly. His chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. He was on his back, one arm draped over his belly, the other above his head. His legs were straight, his pencil penis resting on one side. I let him sleep some more while I began preparing breakfast. I wanted to get to the stream early this morning. Where there's water, there is the possibility of other people about. Unlikely, as the spot I had chosen is pretty remote, but I couldn't be one hundred per cent sure. Even in 1978, when no one treated the sight of a man and boy together with suspicion, there was always the distinct possibility that people would be on the lookout for a 'missing child'. And Blondie would be easily recognizable, with his long blonde hair and blue short shorts. But, we needed to freshen up, wash, et cetera.

I unlocked the van door and slid it open. Blondie woke with a start and raised himself to a seated position.

"Breakfast," I said.

Blondie emerged from the van a few minutes later, wiping the sleep from his eyes. I watched him walk over to where I was cooking bacon and eggs. His gait was delicate, but sure-footed. His slender hips swayed slightly as he walked, as did his little cocklet. His balls stayed resolutely tight between his legs.

He slumped himself down as I dished up the food on a plate and handed it to him, together with a knife and fork. I watched him eat. Typical boy; wolfing it down, chewing briefly before gulping it down his throat, then rinsing and washing down what remained of the food in his mouth with orange juice.

After clearing away the detritus of breakfast, I said: "Come on. We're going for a little walk to a stream. You'll need your socks, trainers and shorts."

"What about my shirt?" he inquired.

"No need for that. It's going to be another hot day," I informed him, as I slung a small bag containing washing items over my shoulder, and started to walk away.

"Wait for me," Blondie said as he picked up his clothes from the blanket.

I stopped while, to my regret, he put back on his meager clothes. My regret, in that I wouldn't be able to watch his naked body walk, run and jump, the way young boys do, on the way to the stream. I was beginning to feel horny again. Discipline, I said to myself. Willpower.

I tried to take my mind off any thoughts of sex. It wasn't easy, walking along with a boy whose short shorts went right up and beyond his fine, fine ass. Words kept popping into my head:

Restraint.

Cheeky.

Ass.

Control yourself, I said in my mind. God, I want to fuck him!

Chapter 10

After ten minutes we reached the edge of the stream. I looked around for any sign of other human life or activity; were there any tell-tale signs? Discarded garbage, groundsheets, toweling, for instance. I listened for any voices, laughter. Nothing. Only the gentle sound of the water flowing and of course, the birdsong. I put my bag on the ground and picked out sachets of shampoo and soap. I told Blondie to strip naked again. He and I were going to wade in the water and wash ourselves down. Or, to be more accurate, I would wash both of us down. I watched as Blondie stripped off. Then it was my turn.

I took him by the hand and led him into the water, which only reached to his knees. I lathered the soap in the stream, and then soaped Blondie all over, with particular emphasis on his cock, balls and bum. Then I splashed water all over him to wash off the soap. I opened a sachet of shampoo and washed his hair. After I'd done the same thing to myself, we both returned to the edge of the stream and put our clothes back on. We started back to the camper van.

On the return journey, Blondie found the courage to ask me: "What's your name?"

I thought it 's a wonder he hadn't asked me that before now. "Just call me 'Felix'," I said (Not my real name, of course, but Felix, as in the cartoon, Felix the cat).

Blondie started to tell me: "My name is…"

I put my hand up in a 'halt' gesture, and stopped him in his tracks. I interrupted: "Don't tell me. I don't want to know your name. Anyway, I already have one for you. A made up name."

"Why don't you want to know my name?" Blondie said quizzically. He looked hurt.

"Because it's best I don't." I had no intention of getting too personal with this little sex pot. He was here only to satisfy my desires, and that was all. "As far as I am concerned," I said, "Your name is Blondie."

"That's my nickname at school," Blondie informed me.

"Is it, now. Tell me, do you like that name?"

"It's OK, I guess. It's better than being called 'Debbie', you know, that singer with the band…"

"Blondie," I said, interrupting him again, with a shrug and small laugh in my voice, "Why would your school pals call you Debbie?"

"Because they think I look like a girl," Blondie replied.

I had to admit, he had a feminine way about him. Not effeminate, but sensitive, graceful, and in some ways, delicate. I didn't press further, I didn't want to know, I just said: "Blondie are a kind of punk band. So that makes you a punk, punk!"

Blondie smirked.

"You like that, huh?" I said. "OK, I'll alternate between 'Blondie' and 'Punk'. How would that be?"

Blondie nodded in agreement.

We arrived back at the camper van.

"Take off your clothes, Punk," I said.

"What, again?" Blondie said, with a hint of rebellion. He may have started out very shy or very scared, but he was now beginning to act like a punk.

I sneered at him: "Don't think for one second that I brought you here so we could be friends. I can turn nasty with you if you give me any more lip. You're here to do what I tell you to," I told him in no uncertain terms. "Any more of that behavior and I'll do harm to you. Get it?"

Blondie looked taken aback, and stayed rooted to the spot. I went over to him and yanked his short shorts down with force. His little penis flipped up, and flopped down, when the elasticated waist band dropped past his hips. I manhandled him to the ground and removed his short shorts from his feet, then unceremoniously took off his trainers and socks. I could see fear in his eyes once more. An edge. An advantage. Control. I regained all three. I took hold of his arm, pulled him up and roughly transferred him to the blanket, and sat him down. Control. It felt good. Blondie is my puppet and I will pull his strings. And his dick. He's my plaything.

I left him alone for a while to contemplate who is the master here. Then I said to Blondie: "Sixty-nine. I'm going to teach you how to play."

Blondie subconsciously scratched and toyed with his penis. He watched silently as I took off my clothes.

Chapter 11

I held Blondie at the top of his arms, near his shoulders. "We'll start with a kiss or two," I informed him.

Blondie turned his head away: "Yeugh!" he exclaimed: "Pooves do that!"

Remember, this was 1978. Attitudes were different then. I turned his face towards me and put my hand on his face, and tapped his cheek lightly a couple of times.

"What have I told you about answering me back?"

"Sorry," he said, mournfully.

I put my finger below, and my thumb on, his chin and eased his lower jaw down. "Open," I commanded.

Blondie reluctantly obeyed. I placed my hands back on to his shoulders and drew him closer. My lips met with his. I moved my hand to the side of his face, and played with his ear lobe, then stroked his neck, all the while pressing my lips to his. My tongue began to invade Blondie's mouth.

"Ungff," Blondie murmured. He tried to break away, but I held him by the back of his head and clamped my lips over his. My tongue darted around the inside of his mouth. My tongue toyed with his. Blondie must have realized his pathetic, attempted resistance was in vain, as his body went limp and he surrendered to the inevitable.

After a time of tongue gymnastics, I brushed away his golden hair from his forehead and kissed him there. Then his nose. His eyelids. His cheeks. His ear. His neck. My hand transferred its attention to his chest and nipples. I laid us both down, stroked his arm, and, barely an inch away from his face, looked into his blue eyes. His sweet breath quickened. I smiled at him and softly said: "Sixty-nine. Here's what you do."

I laid on my back. I invited Blondie to "Climb on top of me."

Blondie, of course, did so, and sat his bare behind on my chest, and faced me, looking down at me.

"No, not like that," I told him. "Turn around and face the opposite direction. Lay yourself down, position your legs either side of my head, and let your cock dangle in front of my face."

Blondie's body squirmed about on top of me until he settled in the right place, with a little help from me.

"Now, take hold of my cock."

I could hear Blondie sigh.

"Take hold of my cock," I repeated.

Blondie, with trepidation, lifted my, at present, flaccid member, and gripped it gently.

"Now, I'm going to take your cock in my mouth and give it some pleasure. I want you to copy what I do. Feel what I'm doing with your cock, and try to do the same with mine. Understood?"

Another sigh: "Do I have to?" he complained.

"I think you know the answer to that," I said, impatiently.

I took hold of Blondie's cocklet and put it straight in my mouth and sucked. I started rubbing the backs of Blondie's legs, then stroking them, sliding my hands up to his ass cheeks, continuing up his torso, along his back, down to his ass cheeks, and down his legs again. I repeated the stroking and caressing of his body several times. Blondie's cocklet twitched in my mouth, as it expanded to its full, erect, three inches [8 cm]. I released Blondie's cock from my mouth and concentrated my efforts on his beautiful balls, flicking them with my tongue, taking them in my mouth, sucking them. I returned my attentions to his little dickie. My two hands, meanwhile, rested on Blondie's butt cheeks. I then spread them apart. My finger found his asshole. I traced my finger around his anal ring a few times, then started tickling and flicking my finger on the opening of his anus, all the while pleasuring his cocklet in my mouth.

Blondie started to groan. I could feel his body writhing, then rocking to and fro, his bum cheek muscles tightening and then relaxing. He was jerking his body. I carried on with what I was doing to him. Blondie let out some noises: "Oh, Oooh, Uhh, Mmm, Uhhh, Oh, Aaah, Uhhh, Oh…"

Blondie was having his first proper sexual experience, and it seemed he liked it. I was aware also, that he hadn't even tried following my lead down at his end. Instead, he just lowered his head and buried his face in the side of my groin, in my pubes, still holding on to my cock. I could feel his hot breath on my balls and leg. I didn't care that he had abandoned his part of the deal, I was enjoying what I was doing to his body as much as he evidently was. I thought: I can bide my time. Before this weekend is through, I'm going to deploy my cum-pistol right up Blondie's ass.

Blondie's body motions gathered momentum and intensity. Blondie bounced his body up and down on me. He was fucking my mouth.

"Ohhhh…!" he uttered loudly, and again: "Ohhhh!"

A final, "Ohhh," and then stillness and an exhausted little body on top of me. Blondie had dry-cummed. He lay on my body and I heard him: "Mmmmm… Aaaaahh."

Blondie exhaled and his breath felt good on my balls and leg. To my surprise, before he let go of my cock, he kissed it tenderly, as if to say: Thank you for a good fuck.

I let him linger on top of my body. We stayed like that for five minutes or so, listening to the birdsong and the soft, rustling trees. I patted his behind, and moved to get up. Blondie slid off of me and lay, spread-eagled on his back in the sun. He had a contented look on his face: Afterglow, Blondie style.

Chapter 12

I made myself busy by collecting dry sticks and twigs for the evening's campfire. Blondie had got up from his reverie and was walking, jumping up on to, and off again, a fallen log, skipping, spinning around, running around and talking to himself. He was lost in a ten year old's imaginary world. I don't know what he was making up in that child's mind of his, but it was entertaining to watch him: in the nude. I carried my bundle of wood to the center of the clearing and dropped them down. Blondie ran up to me, breathlessly panting, leaning over with his hands on his spread apart legs. Catching his breath, he said: "That was great. Can we do it again?"

I looked him up and down, and said, teasingly, "Can we do what again?"

"You know," he said: "Sixty-nine."

It would appear my training of this little sex toy was paying off. I noticed he was going slightly red on his shoulders. My adopted motto of being prepared, hadn't prepared me enough to bring with me some sun block. I didn't want my sexy boy to get burned. I didn't want him to, but I thought it best: "You're going red. Better put on your shirt," I said, deliberately being obtuse about his earlier request.

I could see in his face that he was pondering why I hadn't replied in the way he thought I might, just for a second, then he said: "OK," and ran to the camper van. Blondie reappeared not more than a minute later, with his shirt on, tied and knotted around his middle. The sight of him like that, with nothing else on, stirred something inside of me.

That's a sexy look, I thought to myself. "Soda?" I asked him.

"Mmm," came the reply. He took it, opened it and drank a little. With the can in his hand, he drifted into his imaginary world again, swinging his hips from side to side, dancing on the spot. With so many other memories of this weekend, that was one sight I will always remember.

I opened a can of beer and continued to watch Blondie play acting whatever it was in his mind. A warm breeze blew through the trees. In the distance I could hear above the birdsong, a beast of some kind calling. Perhaps it was calling for a mate. I thought: Bless the beasts and children.

Another sound filled the air. Something approaching above. A helicopter! I ran to Blondie, held him by the arm and made for the camper van. Blondie dropped his can of soda.

"Inside, quickly," I said.

Blondie was startled by this sudden interruption of his play. He looked at me as if to say: "What have I done wrong now?"

I bundled him into the van. The helicopter flew over and away. I managed to see from inside the van, the logo on the side of the helicopter as it passed overhead: "Weather Channel."

I breathed a sigh of relief. For all I knew, there could be a major search going on for a missing boy. Calming down, I returned to some kind of reasoning; Blondie had been missing for a night and half of a day. Searches aren't usually put in action until at least another day; 'appropriate use of resources', and all that. "In most cases, missing children invariably turn up after a day or two" – I could write the script for the authorities' stock responses. But this incident made me realize that I must not get too complacent, not too confident. Truth was, I was spooked, and you can make some rash decisions and wrong choices when you're not thinking straight, and my mind was all over the place.

I became aware of Blondie looking at me as if to say: "What was all that about?"

I composed myself as best I could, looked at him, and said: "Sixty-nine. Let's do it in here. The sun is too strong outside at noon.".

Chapter 13

It was a few years old, and I purchased it as a 'used' camper van. Some things no longer worked in it. Like the radio. The cooker. It looked a little beat up, but it was reliable and a good runner. It could cope with rough-ish terrain.

I kept the side door open; I wanted to see and hear if anyone was approaching. And, with all the hot activity I was anticipating, the interior of a closed camper van would be stifling, steamy. The bed had a squeak. Blondie liked the sound of the squeak, so he bounced his naked little tush on it several times. I knelt in front of him, and stopped him from continuing, as the noise was irritating me. I untied the knot on his shirt, and removed it from his body. Blondie was completely naked again. If Viagra had been around in 1978, I'd swear he was taking it. His penis was standing proud yet again.

"So you liked playing sixty-nine, did you?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, with enthusiasm. "What you experienced is called an orgasm," I explained. "Orgasms make you feel good, don't they?"

"Yes," he said again, with an embarrassed smile.

"Orgasms are even better when someone, or something, enters your bum hole," I told him.

Blondie's eyes widened. I could see him think for a moment, then he asked: "Do fingers have orgasms?"

I stifled a laugh. Blondie went on: "Did your finger have an orgasm when you put it up my bum?"

I tried to comprehend what goes on in the mind of a child! Trying not to burst out laughing, I said: "No, fingers don't have orgasms, but the act of placing one in a hole can bring about feelings in your dickie."

Blondie thought for another moment, then asked: "If I look like a girl, as they say at school, is that why you put your finger in my hole. You think I'm a girl?"

"No, I don't think that at all," I reassured him, "You are all boy, and a very good looking one."

I continued: "Remember when you told me you had a weird feeling in your butt, but didn't know why? I'm explaining to you why a finger, or something else, can give you those 'feelings'. It's the first time you'd experienced those feelings, so they were 'weird' for you. Trust me, you get to like those feelings very much."

Blondie blinked, tried to make sense of it, then said: "So, a boy and a man can give each other feelings, and not be a poove?"

A breakthrough, of sorts! "Yes, exactly," I said, "Do you want to try it?"

Blondie considered my proposal. "I suppose," he replied, hesitantly.

My cock was aching to fuck my little beauty, but persuasion and co-operation takes time. I didn't want to 'take' him this time, or so I thought. I wanted him to get used to the idea of a cock up his butt. I must be going soft, I thought. My original intention was to have my way with him without ever thinking of his welfare. But Blondie was starting to have an effect on me. Hell or high water, I was going to have his ass, but the kid might as well enjoy it too. He was still at an age where he'd believe almost anything an adult told him. Trust: perhaps that was my new form of control over him.

"Let's get started," I said.

Chapter 14

All the time I'd been having this strange conversation, Blondie had been sitting on the bed. I had been kneeling in front of him, with my hands on his legs; rubbing, stroking and caressing them. My hands occasionally brushing his balls and cocklet. I leaned in for a kiss. Blondie's lips parted readily this time. Blondie laid back on the bed. The bed squeaked. I eased my naked body on top of his. The bed squeaked. I could feel Blondie's stiff cocklet underneath me, throbbing ever so slightly, on my stomach. I put my hands on both sides of his face, and played with his ears. The bed squeaked. With my knees and legs, I parted Blondie's legs. My erect cock was underneath his balls and I could feel his little asshole. The bed squeaked.

"Enough!" I said to myself. It may kill the mood Blondie was in, but I couldn't put up with that squeak. It dawned on me, that the only reason Blondie and I were in the camper van was because of that damned weather channel helicopter. No one had been around, ever since we arrived here. And the reason I gave Blondie, about the sun being too strong to be outside, was just a bad decision I made to shield us from any prying eyes; and I was sure there were none. I had always been sure. I had been spooked into being overly cautious of being discovered. The adrenalin rush I originally had, had returned to me; the thrill of the chance I took: The taking of the boy. The taking of his clothes. The taking of his virginity. It was too cramped in the van, and that squeaking bed was driving me nuts.

I raised myself off of Blondie.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," I said, "If we're going to do this properly, we need more space. We'll go outside."

"But what about the sun?" Blondie asked.

"The sun can look down on us and smile," I replied.

I led Blondie by the hand to the blanket. I laid Blondie down, and resumed my position on top of him. I spread his legs apart, and my cock once again found itself knocking on the door of Blondie's asshole.

In a split second, these thoughts ran through my mind: Firstly, ever since that helicopter, I'd been in some kind of panic. A fear of being disturbed, of being discovered. Secondly, having that bizarre conversation with Blondie about orgasmic fingers, and, thirdly, I had allowed Blondie's cuteness to worm its way into my affections. What had I been thinking? My mind became much clearer. More focused.

Control. I had to assume control. That noisy, squeaking bed had brought me to my senses. Blondie was here for one reason only: to be my fuck toy. I had been wasting precious time. I knew I was going to release the boy tomorrow, before the weekend was over. I wasn't going to use persuasion or wait for his co-operation. Persuasion and co-operation can go fuck themselves: It was time, way overdue time, that I fucked Blondie.

Chapter 15

I raised myself off of Blondie for a second time.

"Have I done something wrong?" he asked.

I walked over to the fold up chair, where I'd placed my rolled up sleeping bag, picked up the bag, and carried it over to where Blondie was lying, with his legs open.

"Here," I said. "Turn over on to your stomach."

Blondie looked confused, but did as I had told him to. I lifted his waist and hips, put the sleeping bag underneath him, spread his legs again and raised his butt. I got a good view of his balls, cock, ass and hole, which was now staring up at me. The Vaseline jar was to hand on the blanket. I knelt between Blondie's open legs and began applying the Vaseline liberally around his ass and hole. Blondie turned his face to look at me, and asked: "Aren't I supposed to be on top of you?."

"Change of plan," I said, flatly. I availed myself of more Vaseline on my finger, and, with my other hand, took hold of one of Blondie's ass cheeks and moved it aside. My coated finger once again started to slowly penetrate Blondie's anus. The Vaseline was now in his rectum and alimentary canal. I coated my cock with more Vaseline. Blondie kept watching me, as best he could from his position. And I positioned myself for entry. I slithered my cock around Blondie's buttocks, slithered it down his bum crack, and guided my cock to its destination. My cum-pistol was locked and loaded. With one hand still keeping his ass cheek open, I pressed my cock to Blondie's anus.

Blondie had turned his head away, and again buried his face in his arms and the blanket. God, he was tight. It took me several attempts to ease my cock into his hole, but steadily, my cock was forcing his little hole to yield, to open up to me. Blondie made some noises; quiet, restrained ones. My cock gained entry, and I slowly and delicately pushed it in further.

Blondie let out a cry: "Aaah!" and another one: "Ohhhh!" and another: "Oooohh!"

While I continued to explore the depths of Blondie's interior, I let go of Blondie's ass cheek, guided my hand to his front, and began playing with his, once again, erect cocklet. I also raised his hips up a little higher, for me to gain maximum entry into his bum hole.

"Aaaahhh!" was all Blondie could say.

I allowed my cock to linger in his cavity, enjoying the tightness and the warmth, before I commenced pumping. My hand, meanwhile, was enjoying his stiff little dickie, now both smeared with Vaseline. My hand alternated its affections, playing with Blondie's balls, going up to, and stroking, his flat stomach, and repeating the process by returning to his cock and fondling it between my fingers. Time for some movement: I began to gently move my cock forward and backwards in Blondie's ass.

"Mmmm," Blondie murmured. I gathered a little more momentum. "Ooooh!."

From the first time I had seen Blondie, I had been thinking of this moment; having my cock in his ass.

"Eeeh!"

I ignored Blondie's vocal noises, and continued to ravish him. As my pumping intensified, slapping sounds were created by the collision of my groin and Blondie's ass. My pumping turned into pounding, then ramming. The slapping sounds grew louder, and the space between each sound became less and less. Blondie's body rocked involuntarily with the sheer force of my body pummeling his; I intended to fuck this boy's brains out. Blondie's utterances began to synchronize with my rhythm: "Ah, Ah, Oh, Ee, Ah, Ah, Ah, AH, AHH."

We both began to perspire. Although it was daylight, I raised my head to the sky, and offered a silent prayer of thanks to the stars that had aligned and presented this virgin boy to me. No longer a virgin. I felt as if I could split this boy in two with my incessant thrusting and thumping. My hand was now on his lower back. My back arched, as I could feel my balls were about to explode. I increased the speed of my ramming, knowing the release was imminent. One final, forceful, jab, in Blondie's ass, and my whole being erupted with ecstasy as my cum-pistol was triggered, delivering its milky bullet to its target.

I withdrew from Blondie and watched as cum oozed out of his asshole. Blondie's body went limp. He laid on the blanket, over the sleeping bag, with his asshole up and stretched open wide, his ass covered with a mix of Vaseline and cum. I rubbed his bottom with the palms of my hands, then collapsed on my back by his side. I felt him shaking. I took his arm away from his face. He had a look of complete shock, of paralysis.

Chapter 16

I got up from Blondie's side and inspected his rear end. My cock had left him gaping. I soaked a cloth with water and cleaned him up as best I could. Another trip to the stream, I guess, I thought to myself.

Blondie put his hand to his backside and felt around. "That hurt," was all he said.

Blondie didn't know it yet, but I planned to give him a 'leaving gift' before I released him tomorrow; this time on his back. I wanted to see his face when my cock was in his ass. For now, I helped him up, and played with his tousled hair, glinting gold in the sunlight.

Any minute now, I was expecting him to react like a child of ten would, telling me he "hates me," or, "I'll tell my mom," or, "I want to go home."

Blondie said none of those things. Instead, he said, adjusting his body in an attempt to regain some dignity: "Is that what it's like for a girl?."

I left his question dangling in the warm air. "I'm taking you to the stream," I announced.

I knew I was taking a huge risk, venturing to the stream in the afternoon, but my confidence was high. The excitement of parading a boy, a missing boy, washing him naked, with the possibility of being seen, fed my ego. The stars were in alignment. The stars were on my side.

By the time we got back to the campsite, it was four in the afternoon. We ate. Blondie was ravenous. I stared at my little bird, stripped of his plumage – he was naked again – while I drank my coffee. Blondie was aware I was looking.

"How's your ass?" I inquired.

With all that had happened, he still had a look of embarrassment as he told me: "It's OK," unconvincingly.

I was merely making conversation, and ascertaining if he was ready for another fuck. I know I was ready. I always was. I decided to leave him alone for a while, let him recover. I finished my coffee and washed up the plates and cutlery. Blondie started playing his imaginary game again, spinning around, jumping on the fallen log, balancing himself, walking upon it with his arms outstretched, jumping off, walking around. I went into a daydream of my own: If only all days were like this. …

"Felix."

I thought about other wasted opportunities I had in the past that I could have taken advantage of. Other boys I could have had, but didn't have the nerve to…

"Felix."

I became aware of Blondie saying something.

"Felix," he said again.

'Oh, that's me,' I thought: the fictitious name I was calling myself. "What?" I replied.

"Are you going to do that to me again?" he asked, pointedly.

"Yes," I replied, equally pointedly.

"My bottom's really sore," he said, in a manner I knew was an untruth, as he had been dancing, leaping, jumping and running around, only a few moments ago. I could see through Blondie's lie. He just wanted to convince me to refrain from having him again.

"Is it, now?" I said, "Well, let's have a look at it. Maybe I can rub it better."

Blondie instantly knew it was no use. His ruse hadn't worked. He resigned himself to his fate.

"Well, let's see it," I insisted.

Blondie slowly made his way over to me.

"Turn around, then," I issued directions to him from my chair.

Blondie turned his body to face away from me.

"Bend over, then," I told him.

As Blondie did so, I took hold of both ass cheeks and parted them. The boy's asshole had returned to its normal size; small and tight.

"Nothing wrong there," I said, "That a big cock won't cure."

I slapped his ass and he stood upright.

"Ow!" he exclaimed and rubbed his behind.

"I've got in mind, a different way to give you fun later," I told him.

"What's that then?" he said, attempting to mock me in the only way a boy of ten can muster: "Is it a, a," Blondie searched in his brain to find the words for the worst thing he could say back at me: "…A, a, one hundred and one?"

"No," I said, "Six of the best, if you talk to me like that again."

Blondie glared at me.

"I'm saving something special for you," I told him, with a thunderous look.

Blondie bowed his head and went quiet.

Chapter 17

Blondie soon returned to his play. He was practicing handstands now. Very entertaining for me to watch. It would seem he very quickly forgot about his 'sore bottom', the way he was: upside down, walking on his hands. His cocklet swinging around, his balls still as tight as ever.

Apart from breakfast tomorrow, my last meal with Blondie would be tonight. I thought about getting things prepared for it. I then thought about how and where I would free my captive. Where can I deposit him him, without being seen? My newly discovered, devil-may-care, cavalier attitude kicked in: take him back to where I first saw him. The stars are with me. No one will see. It was risky, but I was prepared to chance it.

I prepared food for the evening. Blondie and I ate it. I cleared up. No point in describing mundane details any more. The meal was just the first course, as far as I was concerned; Blondie was the main course, and the dessert, merged into one. And I wanted to merge my cock with his ass once again. He knew it was coming, he just didn't know when. The big finale for our time together.

Seven-thirty. The birds were silent. No breeze. The trees were still. Blondie wandered about restlessly, keeping his distance from me, giving me quick glances, thinking I hadn't noticed. Glances that told me he was wondering: When is he going to want my body?

The answer came soon enough. I got out of my chair, picked up my unrolled sleeping bag and walked to the blanket. I placed the bag on the blanket. Blondie watched me.

"Come and get your gift," I said to him. "I'm taking you back early tomorrow, and I want to give you something you'll remember me by."

I could see Blondie was confused; I could see his little brain thinking: A gift? Really? What is it? Or does he want my bum again?

"Come on. Over here," I urged my little hot bod. Blondie reluctantly walked over to me. "Lay yourself down, punk," I insisted, "On your back."

Blondie was now under no illusion about the nature of my 'gift'. Blondie complied. "Open your legs. Wide."

I continued with my instructions: "Lift your legs up. I want a good look at what you've got to offer."

Blondie's complete set of treasures were on display: Cocklet, surprisingly not yet standing to attention. Balls, small and perfectly formed: no sagging ones here! Blondie's anus contracted and opened: his hole was ready. I genuflected before the boy god and worshiped at the altar of his genitals. I began stroking his thighs, up and down. My lips lifted his cocklet and they guided it into my mouth. I rolled it around with my tongue, and sucked. Slurping noises ensued. Little Blondie immediately became three-inch [8 cm] Blondie: I swear, his dickie was powered by a spring; boing! And up it came. One hand of mine played with his bum cheeks, until I reached his magic cave; I fingered the rim of his anus, twirling my digit around and around it, occasionally poking the tip of my finger into his asshole, stimulating it with a wiggle or two. Or three. Or four. My other hand stroked his belly, toying with his belly button and alternating that by tickling the area just at the base of his shaft; his hairless pudendum.

Blondie couldn't help but react to this triple onslaught. His body began to writhe, trying to escape the process, yet not really putting up a fight. His eyes, when I had a chance to look up, were closed. Not tightly, but in a gentle 'do this to me more' mellowness.

His mouth was closed, but his lips drew in, and then out again, as if he were applying lipstick. "Mmmmmfff," "Mmmmmm," I heard him murmur. I lifted his legs up, placed the sleeping bag under him, and continued with the triple offensive. I told him to hold his legs up, and apart, with his hands or arms. Blondie obliged. I returned his cock to my mouth. My hand moved from his navel until I located a nipple. Now, one hand was stimulating his senses around his nipple, the other around his asshole. Blondie's body didn't know which way to writhe, or jerk. Five minutes of this, and Blondie was breathing heavily, jerking his pelvis, as best he could on the sleeping bag, and moved his torso from side to side.

"Ohhh," "Mmmm," Aaahh."

I turned my attention to Blondie's balls, licking them, sucking them, having them in my mouth. I substituted my finger on, or in, his anus, with my lips and tongue. I kissed his hole. I licked it. And licked it. My tongue tickled and lolled about around his asshole. I kissed his ass cheeks several times, slurping and gorging on mouthfuls of his sweet, peachy treats. Finally, I stopped. Blondie lay there, and opened his eyes to see what I was doing. I was opening the jar of Vaseline. Blondie watched as my hand and fingers, once again, slathered his ass with the stuff. I applied a generous amount to my hard cock. I took Blondie's legs and placed them on my shoulders, then massaged Blondie's hole with my hand and finger. I parted his ass cheeks. The tip of my cock took over where my hand had left off; massaging his asshole. Slowly, I invaded Blondie's most intimate part. I was inside him once more.

I resolved to be more gentle this time. I eased my cock further into Blondie, slowly and progressively. The tightness and the warmth of his inner being sent waves and spasms of joy through my body. My hand played with Blondie's penis and his balls as I ventured further into the boy. I saw Blondie bite his lower lip and wince as my cock inched its way in. There were no protestations from my golden haired boy, just short, sharp, noises: "Eeeh," "Oooh," "Aaah."

Blondie's eyes widened when I reached a certain point, then he threw his head back. "Oh, oh, ohhh," he murmured. Blondie then lifted his head to look at me. Grimacing slightly, he said: "Oooh, I don't know if I like this or not."

"See if you like this," I said, as I started to move my cock backwards and forwards.

"Please be…soft," he said, for want of a better word from a ten year old.

Soft I most definitely wasn't. My cock was like a ramrod. I ignored Blondie's request and started pumping; slowly at first, then increasing in pace. Blondie's body started rocking with the motion, his cocklet and balls wobbling like jellies with each thrust. Blondie's hands gripped the blanket tightly as I continued my assault on his ass. Blondie closed his eyes again and moved his head to one side. "Ah, ah, ah," he uttered. We both grunted and groaned, for two different reasons, I suspect. Blondie's boy pussy was glorious. And I was Felix the cat, the pussy-cat that got the cream. And very soon, my cream was going to be transferred to Blondie.

The release when it came, was, literally – now it was my turn to search for a word. For want of a better one – 'Orgasmic'. I held my own balls and milked them of every last drop of cum I could produce into Blondie's hole. I withdrew my cock and watched, for the second time, as Blondie's ass ejected the semen. It trickled along his ass crack and dripped onto the blanket. I whisked the cum around Blondie's nether regions until it resembled a meringue mix; Blondie's dessert had been served. Blondie laid there, and I laid beside him, the warmth of his soft little body touching mine.

After about ten minutes, I helped him up. When he was on his feet, he immediately put his hand around the back of his body and explored his asshole. Blondie said nothing. I washed him down, front and back. It was rapidly getting dark.

"Time for bed," I told him. "Am I going home, tomorrow?" he very tiredly asked.

"Yes," I confirmed.

Chapter 18
Final Part – Conclusion

Very early Sunday morning. Breakfast. Stream. Packing up. Camper van loaded. Blondie on the bed, dressed in his white shirt, tied around his middle; blue short shorts, socks and trainers. Pillow over his head. The engine of the old van clattered into life. The van bumped its way through the trails in the woods. Out on the open road. Would the stars be on my side when I reached the park entrance? Would there be anyone about?

I expect you're thinking that there will be a twist in the tale; that I would receive my 'come uppance' as the bad guy. Well, I'm going to disappoint you.

I stopped outside the park. I kept the motor running. Still early. No sign of anyone. No searches being carried out. No police activity. Nothing. I opened the side door of the van, and, looking here and there, I made absolutely sure we were alone.

"Time to say goodbye, Blondie," I said.

Blondie took the pillow away from his head and climbed out of the van. I know it was crass, and the most obvious thing to say, even for 1978, but I stared Blondie straight in the eyes. With barely a gap between his face and mine, I said, with menace: "You don't say a word about what happened to you, or anything about me. Understood? If you do, I'll come after you. I know where you live."

Of course, I hadn't a clue where Blondie lived, but Blondie didn't know that. I held his face in my hands and gave him a final kiss, full on his lips. Then, I squatted down in front of him and pulled his short shorts down. I cupped his balls in one hand and lightly squeezed them. I put my other hand on his bottom and put a finger in his hole. I kissed his dickie one last time.

"Step out of your shorts," I ordered.

Blondie lifted one leg, then the other, as I helped him get them off, over his trainers. "A souvenir," I said to him, holding his short shorts aloft in front of him. "Something to remember you by," I added. "Now, put your hands over your eyes and start counting. Don't even think of looking, or running, until you've reached to one hundred." I thought I may as well use another tired old trick in the book. It gave me time to get in the van, and drive away. I left him by the side of the road, wearing only his shirt, socks and trainers, with his hands over his eyes. And he was bare assed. Blondie's embarrassment and humiliation was complete.

Driving home, I reflected on the past two days: I had taken Blondie, his body, his virginity, his dignity. I had also taken his short shorts: I might frame them when I get home, I thought.

Buoyed by my successful, magical, dirty weekend with Blondie, I resolved from that moment on, to continue looking for opportunities to satisfy my cravings; no longer concerned about what consequences there may or not be. And indeed, I kept my word in the years to come. "Carpe Deum," in Latin, translates as: "Seize the day."

I added a motto of my own: "Seize the boy."

Life is too short, I said to myself. You've got to take your pleasure where you find it.

BEN

Chapter 19

Before I knew it, Halloween had come and gone, and November had rolled into town, announcing itself with a biting cold wind. I could have taken advantage of a few kids when they tapped on my door demanding 'Trick or treat'. Sure, I could have given them a few 'treats'; and I had a few tricks up my sleeve I could have shown them, too. But I thought to lay low for the rest of the summer and in to autumn, sure in my belief that, despite my threats, Blondie would have been persuaded to tell all [for the story of Blondie, see Take Your Pleasure Where You Find It – Part I]. To my surprise, there had been no reports of a missing child; no reports of him being found outside a park semi-naked. I looked at my trophy on the wall; a framed pair of boy's blue, satin-look short shorts, with yellow stitching. Anyway, the opportunities to repeat the success I'd had with Blondie were few and far between. Trick or treaters never arrive solo. They come in packs. Some had mothers or fathers standing back, in the darkness, ready to rush to their aid should there be any sense of danger towards their little darlings. Wasn't that what Halloween was all about? A sense of danger, of evil?

I figured an opportunity would present itself, at some point, without me going out of my way to look for it; after all, that's the way it just 'happened' with Blondie. I was certain it would happen again. In the meantime, I took solace and comfort in my collection of Chicken, Naughty Preteens and Model Boys magazines, bought at the local porno bookshop downtown. You could do that in 1978.

The camper van had been put into hibernation for the winter, wrapped up snugly in the garage. I put it in there almost immediately after leaving Blondie, just in case it had been recognized. To get myself around, I bought another old heap; more rust than car, but it got me where I wanted to go, and it was surprisingly economical with its gas consumption.

I guess you could say I was a loner. I had a couple of friends I could call if I wanted to hang out with, and they, vice-versa. I had colleagues at work, but as soon as the shift ended, that was that; no contact otherwise. I'd risen to the dizzy heights of supervisor in the packing and distribution center in a warehouse for a mail-order company. My salary was enough to pay the bills, keep a roof over my head in a reasonable suburban neighborhood, and have the occasional reckless spend, like a brand new color TV with a 30 inch screen. I'd also got me a polaroid camera; you know, one of those that produced pictures right in front of your eyes, without having to take a roll of film into town to have it developed. I figured that would come in useful. I just wish I'd bought one sooner; I would have had better souvenirs than Blondie's framed short shorts. Don't get me wrong, Blondie's short shorts were fine to look at, and to remember him by, but a photographic record of my weekend with him would have been an added bonus; the cherry on top. The cherry I'd popped.

Early Friday morning. I was a natural early riser, in more ways than one, if you know what I mean. A bright, crisp, November morning. I enjoyed the quiet before the neighborhood sprung into noisy life; cars being washed, radios on, lawns being mowed for the last time until Spring, parents ferrying their kids to school or whatever activity they had committed them to, dogs barking or yapping; I could quite happily shoot the little yapper that resided in the house diagonally opposite. The sound of the paper being plopped on the lawn outside my own house. I thought the paperboy was cute, but I never thought about doing anything with him. Okay, yes, I admit it; I had thought about it, but I stuck to that old adage, never make a mess on your own front step. Unlike that yapping, crapping dog from across the street.

I could pass the time of day with some of my neighbors, and give them a helping hand to some of them if need be, but they knew, generally, that I liked to keep myself to myself. I retrieved the paper from the front lawn, breathed in some of the cold morning air, and returned to the house. I fixed myself a coffee, some breakfast, and settled down to read the latest, at the kitchen table. I was still in my dressing gown. If I'd have gone out in the street wearing nothing but a smile, I knew the nosy old woman across the street, also an early riser, would have got an unexpected thrill. Or a heart palpitation. Or dropped down dead of shock. If only her yapping dog would do the same. I liked to sleep naked.

The usual headlines, doom and gloom; who's done what to whom; who's who, and who's out of favor through some misdemeanor. I reached page twenty, and something caught my eye; an article concerning something happening in a town, not thirty miles [50 km] from here; Tomorrow, at 2pm, a personal appearance and a book signing; or more accurately, a comic book signing, by none other than Ed Powell. Who's he? Well, I'll tell you. I didn't know who he was until I read it, Ed Powell created and drew the artwork for a hugely popular comic book character, called Awesome Boy. It appeals to a certain demographic, preteen boys. I was sure there would be lots of them, all hoping to get their comic books signed by the great man. I saw an opportunity. Risky? Yes, but an opportunity, nonetheless.

Chapter 20

Saturday morning. The TV weather forecast was for a cold, but dry, day. I set out early for the trip 29.5 miles [47 km] due north. It would give me time to look around and select a cheap hotel room. One where they didn't ask any questions about who you brought back with you. I had the feeling the stars were aligning once again. I packed a few items of clothing and essentials, and my new camera. I took to the road in the rust bucket of a car.

The comic book signing would be taking place in a bookstore. I easily found a room for myself, four blocks away, in what I would describe as the butt end of town. I paid cash and gave a false name, 'E. Powell'. The hotel was pretty basic, but the room was bigger than I thought it would be, and it had a double bed.

I had no intention of joining the queue to see Ed Powell. My idea was to wander around the bookstore, in the hope of finding easy pickings; right in plain sight of a busy thoroughfare. Just as animal predators zeroed in on the vulnerable and the weak, I considered myself to have the same innate sense when it came to identifying susceptible preteen boys.

They started queuing about 11 am. From my vantage point in a coffee house across the street, I assessed each boy as they joined the queue. Don't even think about the ones with parents, no matter how pretty they are. Forget, too, the ones with friends. I couldn't really see much of the boy's bodies to assess their eligibility for my standards and requirements; it was a bright, but chilly day, and the boys were wrapped up in winter clothes. I studied them anyway; my antenna would, I'm sure, guide me to the right one.

I decided to take a closer look. I finished my coffee and strolled across the street, and passed by the, growing by the minute queue, surreptitiously glancing at each boy that seemed to be alone. The queue started to snake around the corner. So did I. One boy took my eye; he'd just joined the back of the line. This boy must be crazy, or stupid, I thought to myself. On a cold, November day, there he was, wearing nothing but a shirt, tied around his waist, a la Blondie, but, unlike Blondie, he wore underneath, a red t-shirt, with, as far as I could make out, lettering on it, bearing the legend, Awesome Boy. He wore tight, blue jean cut-offs, showing his long, bare legs; white socks and black sneakers. His hair was mid-length, and black. I'd guess he was about eleven or twelve. As for height, the top of his head came up to the middle of my chest. I was five feet ten [1.78 m]. You work it out. I'd guess at four feet six [1.37 m]? And I would think three [90 cm] feet of that was legs. I exaggerate, of course, but god, those legs were mighty fine. Big, gray eyes. High-set cheekbones. Button nose. Wet, pink lips. Why the hell was he standing there with no winter clothes on? I made my move, before more boys joined the queue behind him.

"Aren't you cold?" I asked him.

"Yeah, I guess," he replied, in a sexy, gruff, yet high unbroken voice. When he spoke, it set my pulse racing.

"Here," I said, as I started to take off my overcoat, "Do you want to put this on?"

The boy looked at me, saw me smile at him, then said, "Okay."

I draped my overcoat around his shoulders.

"Is that better?" I inquired.

"Mmm," he said, with a slight nod of his head.

I inquired further, "What are you thinking, coming out dressed like that on a day like this?"

"I didn't have time to change," he said, in that high, gruff voice.

I looked at him quizzically. I didn't really comprehend his answer.

He explained further, "I was at home. I saw on the TV that Ed Powell was in town, signing books, like, now!" he said, excitedly, "He's my absolute hero. I love his artwork for Awesome Boy. I had to get here as fast as I could. I didn't want to miss out. Getting his autograph is so cool."

I began to understand, "Didn't you have time to at least grab a coat?" I asked.

"I guess not," he said, with a shrug of his shoulders.

"It's really important to you, then; getting Ed Powell's autograph?" I asked.

"He's the coolest," he offered in response.

"Does anyone know you're here?" I continued probing.

"It's cool. My folks are used to me going out," he replied.

I was still trying to decide if he was crazy, or stupid. Either way, I'd made contact, and he was willing to talk. I hadn't intended on joining the line to meet Ed Powell, but I heard myself saying, "Do you mind if I wait in line with you? You're wearing my coat, after all."

The boy began to take my coat off his shoulders. "No, no. Keep it on. You'll catch cold. I'll stay with you, until you get Ed Powell's signature. Afterwards, perhaps I can warm you up with a cup of coffee. Maybe treat you to a meal, and let me put something hot inside you. How would that be?" I asked, thinking he'd never fall for that one.

"Cool," he said.

I guessed that was his favorite word. I also came to the conclusion that, of the two; 'crazy' or 'stupid', he was stupid. I didn't want to know his name, but different situations require different tactics, "My name's Felix," I said, "What's yours?"

"Ben," he told me. "What… as in… Ben Dover?" I said to him, pulling a face with my eyes crossed.

Ben giggled with that sexy gruffness in his throat, "No. You're funny!" he informed me. He laughed as if he'd never heard that one before. He didn't know it, but I did, I had chosen the right one.

"Cool," I said, in response.

Chapter 21

"What are you getting Ed Powell to sign? Your body?" I asked Ben flippantly.

"No. That's silly," he said, laughing. Ben slipped out a copy of Awesome Boy comic from under my overcoat, between his tied-up shirt and t-shirt. "This," he said, showing me the cover. "It's my favorite story, and the artwork is so…"

I had to say it for him; I interrupted, and said, "Cool?"

"So cool," he added, "I wish I was Awesome Boy."

I had no idea who Awesome Boy was, other than what I'd read in the newspaper feature, but I knew I was looking at my own awesome boy; it was a pity he wasn't blonde, I thought.

"I like your t-shirt," I told him.

"Thanks. It's Awesome Boy," he told me, as if I hadn't figured that one out.

"You know what?" I ventured, "Something tells me you're wearing Awesome Boy underwear as well. Am I right?"

Ben looked at me in genuine amazement, "How did you know? Have you got X-Ray vision, like Awesome Boy?"

"Yep," I proudly told him. And Yep, I thought to myself. He's stupid.

The queue grew ever longer behind us. Ben looked faintly ridiculous, standing beside me with my overcoat draped around him. The overcoat was practically covering most of him, as it reached down to below his knees. Two white-sock covered legs, from lower calf to ankles, protruded from the bottom of the dark gray overcoat, anchored by his two black sneakers. I'd had the good sense to wear several layers of clothes, so I wasn't feeling the cold. The queue began to move forward. A long line of boys, fathers, mothers, and more boys, shuffled along the sidewalk, until we had turned the corner. I thought Ed Powell's writing arm might seize up, with the number of books he would be signing. I hoped it wouldn't affect his ability to draw; think of all the boys he would disappoint if he could no longer draw Awesome Boy.

The queue shuffled ever nearer to the bookstore entrance. After what seemed to be an interminable wait, me and my little chosen one had made it through the doors, and into the warmth of the bookstore. Suffice to say, Ben had his book signed by the great man. I watched as Ben hero worshiped Mr. Powell, telling the artist he was the "Coolest ever!" and that he wished he could be Awesome Boy. I got the impression that Ed Powell had heard that at least two hundred times already that day. To his credit, Ed Powell was polite to his young readers. While Ben was being entertained by Ed Powell, I thought I'd buy a copy of an Awesome Boy comic from the pile on sale on Ed Powell's table, and have him sign it, "To Felix. Best wishes, Ed Powell."

I told him it was for my nephew. I bet Ed Powell had heard that one before, as well.

Ben almost danced around me as we headed out of the bookstore. He was clutching his signed comic book and looking at it with reverence. A stupid smile was on his face as he gazed admiringly at Ed Powell's signature. I thought he might wet himself with excitement.

"Want to go for that coffee and a bite to eat?" I asked my young charge.

"I think, really, I should go home now. Thanks for lending me your coat," Ben replied.

That was not what I wanted to hear; he may be stupid, but he wasn't that dumb. I'd been very patient with him, trying to look interested while he told me more than I wanted, or needed, to know about Awesome Boy and Ed Powell. Waiting in line for over an hour and a half in the cold, I figured I deserved my reward. Ben started removing my coat from his shoulders.

"I've got a better idea," I said, "Keep the coat on. I'm staying in a hotel not far from here. I have a collection of Ed Powell artwork I brought with me. I was on my way to the hotel to get one for Ed Powell to sign. I'm also a big fan. When I saw you shivering in the queue, I thought I could help you keep warm. I could show you my collection, if you're interested. My hotel is only three or four blocks away. What do you say? One good turn deserves another, as they say. We could get a bite to eat at the hotel?"

In my head, I was sounding desperate; and a predator exuding desperation…? Well, the warning signs could easily be picked up by the prey.

Ben looked up at me. "Okay. Cool!" he said. I thanked the stars once again, this time for delivering to me, a very stupid boy.

Chapter 22

We walked to the hotel. Into reception. I picked up the key from the guy at the desk. He made no comment or inquiry as to why I had brought back a young boy, wearing my coat. I ushered Ben into the elevator. Third floor. We walked along the corridor. I opened the door to my room. Ben and I entered. In 1978, there were no 'electronic' keys, no bits of plastic – just a door key. I made sure my prey couldn't escape; I locked the door. Ben looked around the room, probably wondering where my Ed Powell collection was kept. Ben took off my overcoat and set it down on a chair. Ben wandered over to the window to look out at the street below.

I looked at Ben; black hair, almost like a silhouette against the daylight streaming in through the window. Shirt tied around his middle. Red t-shirt underneath. His slim waist and hips accentuated by the window's light. Tight, cut-off jeans, that contained within, a rounded, but tight little ass. The jeans looked as if they were a couple of sizes too small for him. How he got into them I'll never know. Long, sylph-like legs, encased in white socks, culminating in those black sneakers.

I got straight to the point, "Ben, I'd like to see your collection," I told him.

Ben turned to look at me, "My collection? I only have my signed comic book."

He produced it from where he'd kept it, close to his heart.

"No, not that," I said, "I've seen that. No, I mean your other collection."

I could see the cogs turning in Ben's head, wondering what I meant.

"Your Awesome Boy underwear," I enlightened him.

"Can I see your collection?" he asked, beginning to look concerned.

I can't believe what I said to him next, "You show me yours, and I'll show you mine."

Ben hesitated, then said, "I… don't think so."

Ben looked fearful when I gave him an order, "Take off your jeans."

There was nowhere for Ben to run to; I was blocking his only means of escape, and I had locked the door. I could see in his face he was thinking of how he could extricate himself from the situation he suddenly found himself in.

"Take off your jeans," I repeated, more forcefully.

Ben wasn't the sharpest tool in the box. It took him a moment or two to come up with what, perhaps, was a solution to his predicament.

"I'll shout for help," he said.

"Tell you what," I said, "WE'LL BOTH SHOUT. OUT LOUD. HELLLPPP!" I bellowed out as loud as I could.

Ben was taken aback. "See? No one's going to come to your aid. In this hotel, it would be a surprise if there WASN'T ANY SHOUTING!"

It was true; the establishment I had chosen was, as I had said previously, at the 'butt' end of town, and used for nefarious activities; I was sure of that. The last thing this hotel needed was the attention of the cops.

"Go on, scream the house down," I told him, "While you're taking down your jeans."

Ben looked at me with wide, worried, gray eyes, "You haven't got a collection of comic books, have you?" Ben asked.

I couldn't believe how stupid this boy was; finally, the penny had dropped.

"I'll tell you again. Take off your jeans," I said, impatiently.

"No. I don't want to," he said, rebelliously.

I threatened him, "Do as I say, or I'll put you across my knee and spank you."

Ben tried to dodge me by jumping on the bed and making for the door. I lunged at him and grabbed him by one of his legs. He tripped and fell on to the bed.

Perfect place, I thought, Right where I want him.

Ben shouted, "Let go! Let… go… of… me!"

He started to struggle, but I was too powerful for him. I sat on the bed, pulled him close and positioned him, face down, bent over my lap. His tight little jeans-clad ass was staring up at me. I raised my free hand – the other was holding him down by the back of his neck – and brought it down hard on to his ass; the sound of my open hand colliding with his backside produced a loud 'crack!' noise.

Ben tried to put his hands over his ass to try and prevent me from hitting him again. I pushed them away and landed another hard 'whack!' on his jeans-covered posterior.

"Aaah!" he cried. Another blow fell on his little tush, 'crack!' I rubbed his ass to deaden the pain, and to have a first proper feel of his rump. It was as if his ass had been tightly wrapped, or 'vacuum-packed for freshness'.

"Are you going to take off your jeans?" I asked him.

"Fuck off!" he blurted out, in his high but husky voice, close to tears.

'Crack!' Another blow hit its target.

Ben jerked his head up, "Urgh!" was all he could say.

'Whack! whack! crack!', three more in quick succession.

"Want more?" I asked him.

"Stop it!" he yelled, his voice becoming even huskier.

"I'll stop when you take off your jeans," I told him.

"Alright! Alright!" he shouted, "I'll take my jeans off. You only want to see my Awesome Boy underwear, right?" he asked me, hoping that was all I wanted to look at.

"That'll do for a start," I replied.

Chapter 23

I released Ben from my grip and my lap, while I remained seated on the bed. Ben got back to his feet. He was so easy to read; those cogs in his head began to spin again, and I could see he was going to make another attempt at bolting for the door. This time I let him. Ben scurried to the door and grabbed the handle. Of course, it wouldn't open. I reached in my pocket and took out the key, held it up in my hand and dangled it. Ben continued to wrestle with a door that would not open; he tugged at it, pushed it, banged on it, all to no avail. Finally, he turned around and saw me waving the key about.

"Take off your jeans," I said, calmly.

Ben was beginning to realize his options were limited. He stood by the door, his mouth drooping. Ben unbuttoned the top of his jeans.

"Better take your sneakers off first," I advised him, "Otherwise, you'll never get those jeans off completely."

Ben steadied his body by putting a hand on the door, lifted one leg and slipped off a sneaker, and threw it to the floor in disgust and anger. He did the same with the other one. Ben stood there in his socks.

"Go on, then," I told him, "Don't stop there. For the last time… take off your jeans."

Ben unzipped the fly, then I watched as he struggled to get the tight-fitting cut-offs down past his hips. He moved his hips from side to side, all the while pulling at his jeans by their belt loops. Slowly, they began to descend. I could see that his red Awesome Boy underwear was being taken down involuntarily, and Ben struggled to keep hold of them while he peeled off the tight jeans. Ben's jeans dropped to the floor, and he quickly readjusted his Awesome Boy underpants. I caught a glimpse of his abdomen, and a brief sighting of the top of his shaft, before he pulled up his underwear. I got up from the bed and stood in front of him. Ben had nowhere to go; he was trapped between the locked door and my towering presence.

I said, "There. That wasn't so difficult after all, was it?"

I took hold of his shirt and slowly untied it. I removed it from his shoulders.

I remembered I did exactly the same thing with my first conquest, Blondie. But Blondie had beautiful skin to look at, beautiful shoulders, beautiful chest, beautiful nipples and a sublime navel. Blondie was beautiful all over. I had been spoiled. No other kid could compare with Blondie. I'd had some awkward moments with Blondie, sure, but there were times I knew he'd enjoyed what I was doing to him, the finger-fuck; Blondie face-fucking me. Heck, I even allowed Blondie to get into my head and my heart.

This kid, Ben, on the other hand, was dumb, hard work and was here only to satisfy my desires. I felt only animosity towards him, but continued with my charade of patience and control. My adrenaline had kicked in; it was the thrill of the chase, the fear of being unmasked, the fear of having my true identity revealed, the fear of being exposed, bringing my secret life out in the open and at an end. I likened myself in that respect to any super-hero. No doubt Ed Powell's fictional Awesome Boy had the same thoughts. I pulled Ben's shirt from his arms and threw it over to the bed. I missed; it landed on the floor. No matter.

"Now, let's see the full Awesome Boy garb you're wearing," I told the little oik.

Ben looked down at his Awesome Boy t-shirt and underwear, then looked up at me. "Can I put my things back on, now?" he asked, huskily and belligerently.

The best form of defense is attack, I thought; and Ben was trying the best he could to deal with the situation he found himself in. But I had the upper hand. I kept him guessing, by not replying to his request. I raised my hand to touch his face, his cheek and his neck. He drew back, and attempted to swat away my advances with his hand. Ben found he was pinned against the locked door, and me. I pushed my body against his, and despite his resistance, cupped my hand on his cheek and neck. Ben looked at me with defiance. With my body pressed up against his, I let my other hand stroke his black hair. I felt his soft hair run through my fingers, while my other hand stroked his neck. I pressed my body further into his, letting him know, in no uncertain terms, that I had a hard-on.

Ben said nothing. He didn't have to; his face was a picture of disdain, shame and embarrassment, and that was turning me on.

He may not be a patch on Blondie, I thought, But I'm going to make damn sure I enjoy this.

I grabbed hold of the boy's neck in a vice-like grip and pulled him towards the bed.

"No!" he protested. I sat on the edge of the bed, with Ben standing in front of me. We were face to face, now both the same height as each other. I took hold of Ben's waist at both sides. He made no attempt at defiance. I looked at his Awesome Boy attire, red t-shirt, with a blue and yellow Awesome Boy logo. His underwear – red briefs – bore the same motif. I noticed that the 'o' in the word 'Boy' was positioned right at the bulge in his briefs, making it protrude, as if to tell me, "Here it is. Ringed by the 'o', the tip of Ben's cocklet."

I didn't waste any more time. Without any warning, I quickly pulled Ben's Awesome Boy underpants down to around his knees.

Chapter 24

Ben recoiled in horror at this outrage. He tried to pull up his pants. I stopped him by grabbing both his wrists. Ben's tiny little cocklet swung and jiggled from side to side with the motion.

"Keep still," I told him, with menace.

Ben continued to try and wriggle free of my clutches. I let go of one of his wrists, and with lightning speed, reached between his legs and grabbed hold of his balls.

"Move any more and I'll squeeze," I threatened.

I had Ben's attention. I felt Ben's little ball sack in my hand, two little plums. I toyed with them. Ben had a look of sheer hatred in his eyes, as if to say, 'I'm being touched up by a queer.'

In fact, that's more or less what he said to me, "Let me go, you… you… queer."

I applied pressure to his little balls. "Ow!" he said.

"I think we understand each other. Keep still, or I'll hurt you even more."

Ben acquiesced. He allowed me to fondle his balls, then I viewed his cocklet. Small. Cut. Penis glans exposed. I stroked his little dickie. He was certainly not Awesome Boy down below, but I decided to make the best of it. I played with his tiny dickie; it was difficult to determine if he'd got an erection or not, short and stubby as his dick was. Ben stared beyond me and focused his eyes on the wall behind me. I moved him slightly, and his underwear fell to the floor. I told him to step out of them. I kicked them to one side.

"Take off your t-shirt," I ordered.

At last, it had dawned in Ben's dull brain that I meant business and that there was no escape. I was going to do whatever it was I was going to do to him, no matter how he would try to resist. And no one was coming to rescue him. Ben removed his t-shirt. I had Ben standing in front of me with just his white socks on. Ben had slightly puffy breasts; his nipples standing out. His navel was small and inwards. He had two red marks on his chest, probably caused by the rough and tumble between the two of us. I put my hands on his waist again and told him to turn around. Ben, with a face like thunder, obeyed. Ben's black hair reached down to the base of his neck. His spine, straight and pronounced. He had two dimples at the base of the spine, leading to his two, rounded, but firm bum cheeks. He had two further dimples either side of his hips. He had long legs, unless it was an illusion made by the white socks he was still wearing. I took hold of his bum cheeks, and started to part them.

Ben moved away slightly and said, "Hey!"

I slapped his bare ass; the sound of my action was louder, harsher, and clearer than it had been when I'd spanked him with his pants on, crack!

"Come back here," I told him, as he tried to move.

The whack I had inflicted on him had left a red and white impression of my hand on his bare ass. Ben moved back to me and he clenched his butt cheeks. I forcefully prized them apart anyway and told my Awesome Boy fan to bend over.

"What are you going to do?" I heard him say.

"Bend over," I told him. Ben obeyed. Ben had a pink asshole, with a slight brownish discoloration around the anal ring. He wasn't dirty, it was his natural body coloring. Compared to Blondie's perfect, soft, pink, unblemished little hole, Ben's was no match.

He'll do, I thought to myself, It isn't as though I'm spending a whole weekend with this kid. I'll have my fun and then check out and leave tonight.

Again, without warning, I wet my little finger with saliva and pushed it into his asshole.

"No!" Ben protested.

I grabbed hold of his balls once again and countered, "Yes!"

Ben stood there, resigned and bent over, while I examined his bum hole; inside and out. I had no desire to suck on his tiny, disappointing cocklet, so I thought I'd get right down to it; after feeling his asshole, I ordered him to lay on the bed, face down, with his legs open. Ben knew he had to do it. He may be dumb, but even he realized he had no option but to do what I said. Ben assumed the position on the bed. I didn't bother taking off my own clothes, I just unzipped my fly, took out my dick, knelt on the bed, looking at his spread legs and ass. Saliva will do for this one, I thought I spat in my hand and transferred the substance to his asshole. I did the same with my cock. I laid on top of my, not-so-awesome boy; my penis head positioned itself at the opening of Ben's anus, and I began to push my way in.

Ben yelled, "Get off me, you queer!"

My cock delved deeper into Ben's asshole.

"Gah! You're hurting me!" he yelled again.

I moved my cock in further.

"AAAAGGGHH! that really hurts!" he yelled in that high, but husky voice.

I didn't care. This boy was more trouble than he was worth. I started thumping and pounding his ass. Ben's feet rose into the air, as the pummeling grew more intense. Under my breath, I said to myself, in rhythm with my lunges, "You… are… not… like… Blondie… you… are… a… moron… take… all… my… meat… up… your… ass!"

I wasn't enjoying it, yet in some strange way, I was. As long as I was in control of Ben, that was all that mattered. My whole body weight bore down on Ben's little body beneath me. My cock was inside Ben's rear end up to the hilt. I could see that Ben's face was etched with pain. Ben managed to grab hold of a pillow, and put it over his head, probably to prevent me from seeing how much pain he was in.

'Out of sight, out of mind,' I thought to myself. I was determined to take my pleasure. I could feel my balls filling up, preparing to expel my liquid gift to Ben. I withdrew my cock, manhandled him and turned him over very quickly. I put my cock up to his face.

"Open your mouth. Quick!" I demanded.

Ben shook his head. "Open, damn you!" I barked.

Ben opened his mouth, just at the time my cum shot its way out. Ben grimaced as he tasted my cum on his tongue.

'Perfect shot. Perfect timing,' I said to myself. I was also pleased with myself, as I watched Ben spit out my cum on the bed cover.

"Go and clean yourself up," I told him. "Take a shower."

Ben hurried off the bed and into the small bathroom. I heard the shower being turned on. I wiped my cock with a tissue. I suddenly realized I'd forgotten to take any pictures with my new camera. When Ben emerges from the bathroom, I'll take a few.

I picked up Ben's Awesome Boy underpants and stuffed them in my travel bag; Another souvenir, I said to myself.

Ben stayed in the bathroom with the shower running for almost fifteen minutes. Finally, he came back in the room. I had my camera poised, ready.

"Smile!" I said, as I took a picture of Ben standing naked, with a surprised, taken off-guard, expression on his face. I took several more pictures that afternoon, including Ben posing with his ass in the air, his legs spread apart, showing his dick and balls, and one of him posing, sucking my cock. I then let him get dressed.

"Where are my underpants?" he asked.

"Just put your jeans on," I told him, but be careful how you do up the zip".

I escorted Ben out of the hotel. "Here's a little something for you," I told him, and put some cash in his hand. "Go and buy yourself some more Awesome Boy underwear. And don't breathe a word to anyone about what happened. I know where you live, and if you do, I'll do some harm to you."

Well, it worked with Blondie, I thought, I may as well try it on this dumbass kid. "Now fuck off, and don't look back. Keep walking."

I watched as Ben hurried down the street. I went back into the hotel, collected my bag, checked out, and headed for home. 

The End