Hamilton Joyce

A Trucker and a Boy
—
White Slave Boy

#1

"You keep your cab clean. Some are disgusting."

"You know a lot of truckers' cabs then, Fiona?"

"Oops!"

She turned to face him and he thought she looked very feminine, everything about her except her cock, now limp and satisfied.

"You've a great body, Murdo. I like strong men. " She was tracing patterns with her scarlet finger-nails through the black hair of his barrel chest and flat belly. She caressed his bicep and he flexed it for her. 'Ooh! Your arm is as thick as my thigh."

"And I like your bod, too, sweetie. Slender and feminine. I expect you look real boyish when you're not 'dressed'. "

"I do, hun. You like boys then? " She turned on her side, her back to him. She knew her legs and arse were her best, most feminine features.

"You bet! And I love the way these straps frame your arse, Fiona. " He lifted one of her white satin basque's suspender straps and let it snap back against her flesh. "Where did you get this tan?"

"In the park."

"But it's all-over!"

"So? There's some quiet spots in the town park."

He was caressing her bottom now. She lay over a bit onto her belly so he could reach more of it.

"You gonna fuck me again?"

"Hope so. That was great."

"The best?"

"Very nearly."

"Only nearly?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me about the very best you ever had, and then perhaps you'll have warmed up again to fuck me."

"You'll have to promise never to tell anyone."

"Illegal? Oh goody! I love that sort of thing. I promise."

"Well it was in the truck I had before this one, an old Foden. I had just got through Kettering crossing from the A1 to the M1. There's a pull-in there and I decided to take a half hour break before hitting the motorway. About a truck length into it, I was down to about 15 mph, and there was a vision standing there, thumb out, a real angel."

"Oooh! Tell me more!"

"It was a boy in school uniform, you know black blazer, grey shorts, tie. He was blonde, and had the sweetest face you ever saw, all peaches and cream. I hit the brakes, and he smiled at me, the nicest shy grin you ever saw. I don't usually pick up hitch-hikers, but this one I just had to."

I opened the cab window. "Where you headed son?"

"Scotland."

"Hop in then."

He only had a plastic Tesco bag, and I told him to stow that it the locker in front of him, and that I needed a half-hour break but we would be on our way then. I offered him a sandwich and a cup of tea from my thermos, but he said he had just had some before leaving home.

"Not come far yet then?"

"I lived in that village over there." He waved his hand in the direction of a Bovis Estate sort of place a few hundred yards away.

"Lived?"

"Yes. I'm going to live with my Gran in Scotland."

"Been waiting long?"

"Just arrived. Your's is the first lorry."

I realised I had a runaway here, and was tempted to put him back on the tarmac there and then. They might come looking for him, making what I intended all the more risky. But he really was so, so, so very good-looking! And he had not been there long enough for anyone to have seen him at the lay-by or worse still getting into my cab. As we chatted I found he was fourteen and was indeed running away from an abusive, violent and drunken mother. I decided to make my pass at him, my cock doing my thinking for me as usual!

"Where in Scotland?"

"Kirkaldy."

"Show me on the atlas. There, in the locker."

I rested my hand on his thigh as he leafed through the book, and felt my cock stiffening at the feel of that firm, smooth flesh. He found the page. I was in luck: just south of Dundee where I was taking this load of cigarettes. Not out of my way at all!

"It's a lot out of my way, but I could take you there." I tightened my grip on his thigh. "I'd want something in return, Kenny."

"??" He looked at me enquiring. I moved my hand up his thigh, under the leg of his shorts: the flesh felt warm to my touch and as smooth as silk. Two inches [5 cm] further would be his little-boy cock and hairless balls.

"Sex, Kenny. I would want some cock-fun with you."

"I've never…"

My hand had found the cotton of his underpants now, resting half on his flesh and half on the soft fabric. I only wear overalls when driving, nothing underneath, and my cock was making a good-sized tent in the denim.

"That's all right. I'll show you. It's great. You'll love it. Every guy does. Better than wanking!"

"I don't know… I've heard the boys talk about cock fun but…"

"All the way to Kirkaldy in one lift. Be there by tomorrow… And you'll love it. Everybody does it when they are grown up." My hand now over his cock, little-boy cock, soft still.

"OK then. But stop if I want to stop."

"Take your shoes off and hang your jacket up. Then up into there." I pointed at my bunk cabin above our heads. I put my hands under his arse to give him a heave as he scrambled up, a lovely firm arse! I drew the curtains round the cab in case by chance a mate noticed me parked up and came round for a chat. Closed curtains is a sacrosanct sign a guy does not want to be disturbed. As I unlaced my boots I remembered that afternoon years before when the Reverend Hackett had invited young Murdo McPherson back for tea and biscuits after Saturday choir practise. I knew from the other boys' nudges and winks and from references to 'cock fun' that sex would be involved but exactly what and how I had no idea. I expected young Kenny would be feeling all the emotions I felt that afternoon: I had been about his age. Excitement at being introduced to the adult world of pleasure, but guilt at feeling aroused. Fear of the unknown, and yet shame at being afraid. My cock was leaking precum and making a dark damp patch on my blue denim: I hoisted myself up to the sleeping cabin.

Kenny was laying on his back, propped against a pillow. I undid the buttons on the straps of my overalls and let the front fall down exposing my chest before I lay beside him.

"This is cozy, young Kenny." I pulled him onto his side, close to me, enfolded him in my arms and kissed him on his lips. I could feel him tense and fearful, and his lips stayed firm closed. I loosened his school tie, removed it, and pulled his white shirt from the waistband of his trousers. As I kissed him again, I felt him relaxing a bit and was able to slide my tongue between his lips at the same time as I could slip a hand up his shirt to feel his back. It felt smooth and flawless, and his arm was around my back now, his hand on my hairy shoulder. He opened his mouth and kissed properly, and I felt his tongue enter my mouth. Progress!

I fiddled with the buttons on his shirt and managed to undo two at the neck, enough for me to pull it up over his head and join his tie at the foot of the bed. He was all I could hope for, a sexy vision, tanned, slim and hairless, just beginning to get muscle in his shoulders and arms, but still with that sexy slender boyishness. His nipples were tanned brown and I kissed one of them, and then licked and kissed the other till both stood, hard little nubs. I took him in my arms again and his half-naked body felt warm against my hairy chest as we held each other tight and kissed. I thought I could feel him stiffen down there, pressed against my belly, and certainly he was combing the thick hair on my back and shoulders with both hands, caressing me just as I was stroking his smooth and flawless suntan.

I pulled my overalls down and off, and enjoyed the look on his face when he saw my cock, rearing up like some space-rocket from its mat of bushy black hair. I guessed he had never seen an adult erect cock.

"Nice?"

"Jesus!"

But I was undoing the belt on his shorts and pulling his shorts and underpants down together. There he was naked. He had a deep tan, but a triangle of white skin that framed the prettiest little cock, and white balls. There was a light fringe of blonde hair at the base of his cock, but his balls were still hairless. I cradled them in one hand, and held his cock with the other: it was white, perhaps five inches [12½ cm], and like everything about him slender. I pulled the foreskin down and his knob was a lovely shining pink. I took his hand and placed it on my cock.

"It's huge!"

"It's a man-sized cock, Kenny. They are all like this and yours will be in a few years."

I would have liked to caress him, learning the contours and textures of his young body, but knew that it would be best to strike while the iron was hot, to have him while he was compliant: young boys can change their minds so quickly… So I trailed my tongue down over his belly, took his knob between my lips and let the whole shaft enter my mouth, until my nose and chin rested on that fine golden pubic hair. I fluttered my tongue against the front of the shaft where it is most sensitive, and sucked with a warm and wet mouth. I think I was holding his hips.

I heard him groan with pleasure, and felt his body relax, all tension cured by the magic of a mouth on his cock. His hands were on my shoulders. I started to blow him properly, bobbing up and down on him as his cock slid in and out of my mouth: I could take his boyish five inches [12½ cm] with no difficulty. More moans, and his little hands on my head, guiding it and making the rhythm of my movements coincide with his own needs. He was not far from coming, and his hips kept raising to meet my mouth. I let a lot of saliva drip down the cock and onto his balls. I dabbled a finger in this and used it to lubricate as I slid my index finger into his tight arsehole. He flinched as I did so but there was no complaint, and the rhythm of my sucking and the rising and falling of his hips was uninterrupted. I felt around inside him and found the the prostate, not finger-fucking him, but pressing on it with the end of my finger with each down-stroke. More moans. His hands clutching handfulls of my hair and forcing my gobbling movements to be faster and faster. Then the release of his orgasm, and a small spurt of juice into my mouth. I allowed my movements to slow down and stop, but kept his cock in my mouth, and stroked his flat belly while he stroked my head.

"I never knew…It's better than…"

"Better than wanking? It sure is." I lay beside him, propped up against the pillows.

"Can I?" But his lips were already on my cock, kissing the slit with a tentative gesture. A thread of precum stretched between my knob and his lips, and then his lips were around my knob and he was sucking. As I caressed his back and shoulders I could scarcely believe my luck: he was so very pretty and sexy. I held his head between my hands, fingers in the fine blonde hair. And he was sucking well, learning from what I had just done to him. He bobbed up and down on me faster and faster, and I felt that I would come soon. I wanted to make the moment last, but when he slipped a finger up my arse that was just too much, and I spurted into his mouth. I expect he was surprised at the amount of cum… I was real excited… but he gulped and swallowed it all and then lay there tranquil as I had after sucking him.

Laying side-by-side later, Kenny was feeling the muscles on my chest, shoulders, and mostly my biceps. I flexed an arm for him and he held it in his tiny hand.

"I want to have a body like yours when I'm big." He pushed at my pecs.

"I exercise every day, and go to the gym for weight training."

"I can see. It's great. Your arm is thicker than my leg. But I do some training too."

He was beginning to get muscles in his upper arm and shoulders, but was still slender and childish from the waist down.

"Press ups?"

"Yes mostly. I do some every morning, and some pull-ups in the bedroom door frame."

"And you're getting some nice muscle too: that's all there is too it, really." He flexed his arm for me to enjoy that tanned, firm flesh. "But you need to develop your belly, bottom and legs too. There's exercises for them as well, and you should keep a balance or you'll end up like those swimmers, all arms and shoulders and no thighs!"

"I'll get a book on it."

"See if you can find a gym with weight training. But you've a great body for your age already. And you're hard again!"

"That's feeling your body, and your sexy body hair!"

"I'll show you something else. Put some of this on your cock." I watched as he tipped baby oil into his cupped hand and rubbed it onto his cock. I turned on my belly and half knelt. "Now stick it up me. Fuck me."

"Won't it hurt?"

"I love it!"

He was too small of course to do much for me, but I have had men who are as small as that. And there was a certain amount of pleasure as he penetrated me, and started to fuck. Above all there was a perverse delight in being fucked by a teenage boy, and a virgin at that. Added to which there was the knowledge that he could now scarcely object when I stuck my cock up him later, as I intended to do when we parked up for the night. And he fucked me well: there is nothing like the energy of a teenage boy going at it as hard and as eager as he can. I felt his hands on my arse as his thighs slapped into me, and finally he collapsed over my back as he came inside me.

"Here, wipe your cock on this." I passed him an old towel.

"I thought it would be shitty. It's not."

"Can be sometimes… all part of it, Kenny."

The boy had grown in confidence, and was even flirting with me as we drove through the rest of the afternoon non-stop. I kid you not! He had not put his shoes on again after our session in the cabin, and stretched out, lounging beside me with his feet up on the fascia. As he lay, almost prone, his shorts had risen up so they were very tight over his crotch, and I was treated to a long expanse of slender, tanned, teenage legs.

"I think cock-fun is great, Murdo." I could see his cheeky grin out of the corner of my eye, but the motorway traffic was heavy and I had to keep my attention on the truck ahead of me. He rubbed his crotch, and it was not absent-mindedly: he knew exactly what he was doing, and had exactly the effect on me he expected. The bulge in my overalls swelled as I became hard again. "It's better than wanking, and I'm going to have cock-fun from now on, not wanking." I could see the shape of his cock under the thin materials, and he rubbed it again. "Can we stop and have a bit more?"

"Nowhere to stop here, and anyway I want to be at our overnight place before dusk." I also did not want to be emptied of cum before the main event in the cozy darkness of the cab, when he would learn what 'cock-fun' really was between a man and a boy.

"Can I suck you while you drive then?" He reached over and felt my cock, hard under the blue denim.

"Not safe while I'm driving. Anyway someone might see and then we'd be in trouble."

"I'll keep down low. Please, Murdo. Please."

He had undone the two buttons on my overall straps and the front fell down, my cock-head just peeping out now.

"Please." And before I could say anything else he was on the floor of the cab, leaning over my lap, and sucking my cock. I looked down at that tousled blonde head bobbing up and down on me, and saw he had got his own pretty cock out and was jerking away at it almost as franticly as he was sucking. I made myself concentrate on the driving, as he in turn drove me towards another orgasm. The tension, the excitement of danger, and above all his pretty head and even more delightful cock… well, it did not take me long to come and I'm sure I filled his mouth with several spurts of hot cum.

He sat up on the seat again and fastened my overalls in place, then put away his own cock.

"I came too. It's the taste of spunk and the silky feel of it in my mouth. It's so exciting that I just come like that."

We drove in almost total silence the next hour, till I turned into the Truckstop.

"This is our place for the night. There's toilets, showers and a restaurant, but most of all it's secure. CCTV. I need that as my load is worth a million or two…cigarettes. Cigarettes north and then whisky south. They trust me, and reckon I'm big and tough enough to put any rogues off!

"You're big all right!" He giggled at the innuendo.

"But there is CCTV so we'll wait till it's good and dark, and you put this anorak on when we walk over, with the hood up. They are probably looking for you already. And don't look at the cameras! And call me Dad, and I'll call you Jamie. Lots of truckers take their kids with them on trips, so it'll seem natural and usual."

"All worked out, Murdo. You done this before!"

"I wish! I should be so lucky!"

We waited till the dark which would dull the CCTV images, even with the floodlighting, and Kenny played along well in the cafe, asking his 'Dad' if he could have another burger, and me asking 'Jamie' if he wanted an icecream. I caught a few admiring glances from truckers who fancied a blonde teen, but it was just ordinary male lust, no inquisitive suspicion. We showered, but in separate showere… no risks there either, however tempting it would have been to have had him naked in a shower cubicle! There were other truckers about in the shower block too, so it was Dad and Jamie again. I had parked close to the toilets (one reason why I liked to arrive early, about dusk), so there would be no difficulty slipping out during the evening and night if we needed to.

And then it was back to the truck for the main event. I could sense how eager the boy was: he did not yet know what I had planned for him. Probably thought it was another sixty-nine and another mouthful of hot, slippery cum!

As usual I checked the security of the truck, testing all the locks, and by the time I was in the cab he was already in bed. I quickly stripped naked, and as I hoisted myself up to join him a drop of my precum fell to the upholstered seat.

He was waiting for me, laying naked on his back. His face was one big grin as he raised his arms and opened them to welcome me. I lay on top of him and felt his hands on my back as he hugged me and we kissed, a long, passionate, wet kiss. His tongue was in my mouth and I felt his hands combing through the hair on my back.

"'Not too heavy for you?"

"I love it. I love the feel of you, so big and strong."

"And I love the feel of you, so smooth and firm."

He giggled. "My cock's firm too."

"I know. I can feel it pressing against me."

This time I could take as long as I wanted, and I intended to enjoy his body to the full, learning the contours and textures of it and fixing it in my memory. Who knows how long it would be before I had another teenage boy to play with, and I doubted I would ever find one so pretty and so willing. I mouthed his nipple, tanned a deeper brown than the rest of him, and nibbled it, licking it into erection as a hard little point of passion. The other one too, closing my lips on it and even gently provoking it with my teeth. His chest was tanned and completely hairless, and I let my tongue wander down over it, down towards his flat belly. He giggled again when I stuck the tip of my tongue in his navel. This 'cock-fun' was clearly fun for him. He was just beginning to get pubic hair, and had a fine fringe of hair at the base of his cock, not ash-blonde like his head, but fine golden curls in a tiny triangle. I combed my fingers through them, and kissed them lightly.

His cock was standing: in fact it seemed to be hard most of the time. Oh to be a teenager again when even the vibration of a truck engine or a bus would be enough to make you hard and ready for it! I did not intend to suck him off, but could not resist uncovering taking that pink knob, closing my lips round it, and letting the shaft glide into my warm, wet mouth. He sighed, contented, and thinking I suppose that this was to be the main event of the evening. He was wrong: I wanted his cute bubble butt.

So I turned him over on his belly. The tan-lines on his bottom made a lovely white triangle, the point leading down to the focus of my attention, the crease and his arsehole.

"You must have been sun-bathing all summer to get that tan…"

"I go to the pool a lot, training for my diving and swimming."

"You wear tiny little trunks… speedos?"

"Mmm."

"I bet you look good in them. Lotsa guys give you the eye?"

"Some. I know why now. I didn't then."

I spread his bottom cheeks, and there was his tight little anus, pinkish brown against the sheer white of his thighs. I could just make out the back of his balls as he lay there tranquil. I lay between his spread legs and licked the length of his arse crease: I could smell the shower gel we had used a few minutes ealier, and also a clean teenage boy scent from his balls. I licked his arsehole, pointed my tongue and slipped it into him, reaming it round and round the muscle there, sliding it in and out.

He giggled, and wriggeled his hips. "What are you doing?"

"I'm rimming you."

I had stopped to speak. "Don't stop. It feels lovely!"

So I spent the next minutes licking and kissing his arse, starting to loosen it, while caressing and kneading his firm buttocks, running my hands up and down his slender legs, and stroking his tanned back.

"You have a lovely body, so smooth and firm."

While we talked I was spilling some baby oil into my palm and slopping it into his crease. I dabbled my index finger it it and slipped the finger up into him. I turned him on his side, and lay beside him again while I finger-fucked him.

"There's a place in there. You found it before too. It's great when you push it."

"That's why men like being fucked in the arse. That's why I wanted you to fuck me this morning."

"I want to see if I can find it."

"OK." He took the bottle and oiled his fingers. I felt his finger up my arse again. "Tell me when I'm right."

He finger fucked me a bit, while I loosened him up with one finger.

"That's it, Kenny. Just there."

"It's a sort of lump inside."

"That's right. Some men can come when you massage them there, nothing else."

"That's what you're feeling inside me?"

"Mmm." I slipped a second finger inside him. "That feel ok?"

"Sort of full."

"I've got two fingers in you now." I stretched his anus by opening my fingers a bit. No complaints from the boy, and I felt him finger fucking me with two fingers as well. We went on like this for a few minutes in silence because I was kissing him at the same time. Then I decided he was loose enough for the third finger.

"Ouch! That hurts!"

"Try squeezing on me and then relaxing."

I felt his arse grip and then relax, grip again and relax.

"That's a bit better. You want to fuck me, like I did last night…"

"I certainly do, Kenny."

"Don't hurt me, Murdo."

I knelt him on the bed, his face in the pillow to muffle any sounds: the next truck was only a few yards away. His bottom was an inviting white triangle to aim at and his back smooth suntanned flesh and when I parted his arsecheeks his arsehole was a little pink rose: I had loosened him but not completely opened. My cock might have been designed for buggering virgin boys. I have a small knob which makes my prick almost pointed, but it gets broader towards the base like a wedge. So I had no real problem getting my knob into him. I placed it carefully and with a small push felt it pass his sphincter muscle. There was no protest and I guess it was still smaller than my three fingers before. It changed when I pushed again and started to get the shaft up him. There were protests.

"That hurts! No, Murdo. Please. It hurts. No. Please, please."

I took no notice but pressed on till about half my cock was in. His anus spasmed and he gripped me so tight I doubt if I could have moved it. That is a lovely feeling, when an arse really grips your cock, something you can't get with a pussy. The spasm passed and I forced it home till my balls and pubic bone were pressed against that smooth white bottom. He was sobbing, but I stroked his back, as one might calm a frightened puppy: it was in any case exciting to have that lovely, triangular, sun-tanned back under my palms, so silky and smooth. And I started to fuck him, in and out with long, slow strokes. He was sobbing, and sometimes his arse would go very, very tight, but there were no more protests.

I could have come so easily, but I knew it was important this first time to make it last long enough for the pain to become mixed with pleasure, perhaps even become replaced by pleasure. There was a crisis, and I nearly came, but I managed to control myself (good job I had come a twice earlier in his mouth!), and the moment passed. Now my cock felt like steel and I was fucking harder and faster. I could see the fine golden hairs on his neck, and just had to run my tongue over them. He smelt of the lemon shower gel the truckstop provided. For years after whenever I smelled that scent I was reminded of Kenny and his pretty arse and back, and tousled blonde hair, kneeling and taking my full length.

The sobbing had stopped now and I was aware of little wrigglings in that bottom under me, as his buttocks started to move in rhythm with my fucking. My heart leapt: he was enjoying it! I went at him harder now, as hard as I would if it were one of my regular, adult sex-partners, and was rewarded by sounds that were certainly little noises of pleasure, and perhaps even of orgasm. I could wait no longer and allowed myself to come, a huge, balls-draining come, pumping spurt after spurt of cum into him.

Later we rolled over on our sides, and his anus contracted to expel my cock, only half-hard now. I kissed his lips lightly in gratitude.

"That was lovely, Kenny. Best ever."

He giggled. "It was certainly my best ever!" A poor joke, but a welcome one.

"I hurt you a bit. I'm sorry."

"It hurt dreadfully at first, but later it was ok. I'm sorry: I came into your pillow. It's all wet and sticky."

I took him in my arms and kissed him. "That's wonderful."

He looked at me enquiring, as if he had found a new kink in this cock-fun thing.

"No. It means that it was good for you. I so wanted that."

We went to sleep in each other's arms, and no newly weds on their honeymoon night could have been more loving!

He woke with the dawn, before me, and woke me up as he was putting on his shorts.

"I've got to have a piss."

"Me too. I'll come with you."

I slipped on shorts as well… dungarees not convenient for pissing. I enjoyed standing beside him in the toilets, looking at his cock as he pissed, and he was looking at me as well.

"It's nice to be able to look openly. At the pool I always try to look sideways and see a guy's cock if I can. And I know guys look at mine when they get the chance."

"You're a naughty boy, Kenny! Hey it's cold here, let's get back in the warm." We were not wearing shirts, and even at the end of the summer it was crisp first thing.

Laying together in the overhead bunk I could feel his cock hard even through the layers of his and my clothes. We lay kissing, naked from the waist up, but still wearing our shorts. I slipped a hand down the waistband of his and grasped that little cock I had just been looking at in the urinals.

"Hey! your hand is cold!"

"Soon warm it up here!' I cradled his tight little ball-sack, and I could indeed feel my hand warming up. It felt incredibly hot down there, inside his pants. I grasped his cock again, and he giggled that infectious little chuckle as he slid his own hand down into my shorts. His was cold too! But I loved the feel of his soft-skinned fingers around the shaft as we kissed and cuddled.

"I want to fuck you again, Kenny."

"I know…"

"I'll show you another way…"

He was already undoing his belt, raising his hips and pulling his shorts down. I stripped mine off quickly. He was turning on his belly and getting ready to kneel.

"No, Kenny. I'll show you another way." I turned him on his back again and bent his legs up so I could see his pretty little anus. It did not seem to be too sore after the session the night before: a bit pinker perhaps. I spilled some oil into the crack, and rubbed some onto his arsehole, slipping my finger in as far as the first knuckle. Then I presented my cock to it, and with just the slightest pressure I was in him again, or at least my knob was. He flinched, so he must have felt some pain, but there were no protests this second time. I sank down into him, and felt his arms close over my back and his heels lock together behind my bum. I started to fuck him, long and slow sweeps of my cock. It slipped in as easy as it had at the end of our fuck the night before: he seemed entirely relaxed. I felt his hand slip between our bodies and realised he was wanking as we fucked. I lifted myself on my elbows to watch him his fist slipping up and down that little cock in the same rthythm as our bodies. Oil had spread to it, and the pink knob gleamed. I fucked him harder, and watched a small spurt of thin cum stream up onto his tanned chest. It was too much for me, and I came too.

Driving North he teased me as he had the day before, his bare feet resting on the dashboard, and his tanned legs within reach of my left hand, though I was not willing to start caressing them while driving, however sexy that would have been. He was full of himself and could not stop chattering. I guess he was over-excited by his discovery of sex!

"I wish you lived near me, Murdo. Where do you live?"

"Plymouth. But, yes it would be good."

"I liked calling you Dad in the cafe. If you really were my Dad would you fuck me?"

"Probably not. But lots of men would like to. I tell you!"

"I want to have lots of cock-fun. I don't know how to get guys to do me. I mean you can't just go up to a guy and say 'fuck me please, mister!'"

"No that wouldn't be a good idea. We're nearly at Kirkaldy, about half an hour now." I was pulling into a shallow road-side lay-bye. "Grab that Atlas again, Kenny. Look, we're on this road about here, and that's Kirkaldy. I'm sure they won't let a rig this size into the town without a permit, so I'll drop you at this roundabout here. It's only about a mile [1½ km], say quarter hour walk, from the centre. OK?"

"OK Murdo, and thanks. But I'll miss you…"

"The sex you'll miss! Pass me that pad and pen. Has your Gran got a computer?"

"Yes!"

"Well, unless they've got net-nanny or something to stop you looking, here's a couple of websites. This one is a listing of all the places where guys hang out to meet other guys for sex. There are places all over the UK, all over the world in fact. Bound to be some near here. And this one has profiles of guys who want gay sex, and chat rooms where you can meet them or message them. And here's a couple I like with pics and videos, especially guys with younger gays."

"That's great. My Mum had all those blocked on ours, but I'm sure Gran would not know how to. I was wondering how I could meet guys."

"Don't forget your school-mates. You should have some of them."

"I'd rather have big strong guys…" Flirting again, blinkinking his eyes, smiling, and feeling my pecs.

"Take it from me, you have those pretty boys while you are young and it's easy. Or you'll spend later years regretting missed opportunities."

"Do you, Murdo?"

I laughed. "No, Kenny. I was terrible. I had all the boys I knew when I was your age."

"Can we do it again, once more before you go? Please!"

"OK. You've got me hard again, you young rascal. How do you want it?"

"Fuck me again, please, Murdo. That's the best."

In the bunk again, naked, I showed him how to ride me. And that, Fiona my sweet, really was the best fuck of my life. I lay back against the bedhead, my hands behind my head and watched his face as he sank down on my cock, impaling himself. He had been sparing with the baby oil this time, using just a few drops to moisten my cock-head.

"I want to really feel you, so I have something to remember," he said. I saw in his eyes the eagerness, the moment of doubt as my cock stretched his young arsehole, the satisfaction as he sank down to rest his slight weight on my body, and then the glint of excitement as his body began to register pleasure and he murmured, 'Yes! Oh yes! Yes!' I rested my hands one on each sun-tanned hip and helped to raise him a few inches before he sank back again with a gasp of delight. Then he was fucking properly, bobbing up and down like someone who had been doing it all his life. I studied him unashamedly, fixing the contours of his body in my mind, caressing his smooth, flat belly, tweaking his hard little nipples, handling his little-boy erect cock, but not wanking him. That would be for later I hoped! Despite the balls-draining sessions of the past twenty four hours I was hyper-excited, and I knew I would come too quickly. And when he fell forward onto me, pulling my head towards him to kiss me, I could not stop myself and came deep inside him, his arse gripping my cock and his muscles there milking the cum from me.

I told him that it was lovely, and asked him if he wanted to fuck me now.

"I'd rather you sucked me again, Murdo, please. That's if you don't mind. I mean, I'll fuck you if you want, but it would be good to be sucked again."

"Mind! I'd love to suck you, Kenny." He lifted himself off me, and my cock was not very shitty. He lay on his back and I lay half on top of him. His little cock was a delight, and I can still remember it, Fiona. He held my head in both hands and his fingers ruffled my hair as I bobbed up and down on him, gobbling and sliding it between my lips with plenty of saliva dripping down. He was groaning. I cupped his balls in one hand and he raised his hips very slightly inviting my other hand to slip under him. I knew what he wanted, and dabbled an index finger in the spit and oil before slipping it into his arse. A big groan of pleasure now as I sought out his prostate to press and pummel it. Then the thin stream of boy-cum into my mouth, and my gentle sucking to get the last of it, before we rolled apart.

I made him dress carefully before we drove off the few miles to his roundabout, where I duly dropped him off. He looked so smart and sexy as he waved, there in his school blazer in the sunlight, and I moved up through the gears, pulling away. He had given me his gran's telephone number 'in case you are ever through here. We could meet in a lay bye…'

"And did you ever meet him again?"

"No, Fiona. That had been a calculated risk and was worth it. Anything more would have been too risky. I certainly thought about it, and finally threw the scrap of paper away to make sure I wasn't tempted."

"Tempting it must have been. And I'll forgive you. I was a bit annoyed to hear I was not your best fuck, but now I've heard I don't expect to compete with a teenage angel!"

"Nearly, Fi, nearly!"

"You're hard again, Murdo. Now I'll ride you like that little boy. Lay back and enjoy…"

Cecil stetched his legs out, enjoying the feel of the leather against his naked thighs.

Mr Chartier always liked him to wear shorts when he visited the old man's flat, and could be relied on to feel up the boy's naked thigh under the leg of his shorts, finally grasping the boy's by-now hard little cock while stealing his first kiss of the afternoon.

But not his last! He was a randy old buzzard, Mr Chartier, and presumably with the help of viagra could also be relied on to shag the boy's cute little bottom at least twice each visit.

Cecil reached under himself, fingering his anus a moment to make sure he was not still dribbling the guy's cum. OK! Reasonably dry.

Unusually, Mr Chartier had suggested to the boy, once he had drained his balls into that willing rectum, that Cecil might like to meet one of Mr Chartier's friends, one who also loved young boys. His friend was, it seemed, a big-built black man, muscular and with cock and balls to match his massive frame. And very rich!

Cecil was a bit afraid… perhaps it was true what they said about black guys, perhaps he would be really massive and stretch the boy's male pussy as none of his several lovers had yet managed. Other boys had stories about torn arseholes caused by man-monsters, though Cecil had yet to come across a cock his anus could not accommodate. He decided to give it a try… so here he was in the hired car Mr Chartier's friend had sent to collect him, and looking forward to even more sex than usual on a Saturday afternoon. He had never had a black guy before but had often fantasised. And if the guy really was fit, muscular, that would be a real treat.

The driver was a big guy too. Black, like the man he was to meet, and he kept looking in the mirror at the boy. Cecil knew that look in an adult male: the guy fancied him, would love to slip his cock between his little-boy buns. There was that look in his eyes. All he had to do was pull into a lay-bye, kill the engine and ask: Cecil really fancied him and would have enjoyed a quickie. But the guy just drove on, often glancing in his mirror and meeting Cecil's eyes there. Cecil stretched his legs out again and rubbed his crotch a moment, where his cock was already making a little tent.

This was better than the usual taxi! In fact it was magnificent, a huge black Mercedes, air-conditioned, tinted windows, leather… the works. And in the arm-rest a little bowl with triangular sweeties in it. Cecil recognised the gold foil of his favourite chocolate and thought, "Why Not." He unwrapped one and popped it in his mouth, enjoying the familiar chocolate and orange flavour as he wolfed it down.

The driver caught his eye in the mirror and was smiling, so that was all right. Cecil unwrapped another one, and took his time sucking it slowly and luxuriously.

It was getting hot in the car. Too hot! Cecil looked for a window catch, but they must have been electric, and in any case he was feeling a bit sleepy. That would be the result of nearly an hour's pleasure with Mr Chartier, being fucked kneeling and then for a long age on his back with his legs round the old guy. He liked Mr Chartier and the guy was never in a hurry. The driver would wake him when they got there! He nodded off…

Cecil woke up feeling quite refreshed, stetched his long legs and rubbed his eyes.

He was not in that black limousine.

Where was he? He sat up. The bed was large and low, and covered with a pimk satin sheet. He could smell talcum powder. It was on his own skin! And where did these panties come from. He felt them with both hands, and looked down. They were see-though black nylon and more like the bottom part of a shortie-nightdress than girlie panties. Sure enough, the top part, the see-through nightie bit, was laying on the floor by the bed.

It was chilly in the room, and Cecil reached for the frothy nylon and put it on.

To be honest, girlie panties and stuff did not do much for Cecil, who rather preferred his sex naked. But several of his man-friends liked their little boys to cross-dress a bit, and Cecil of course went along with that: it was always exciting to see the effect he had especially on married men, the bisexual ones, when in sexy lingerie. And it must be said his own brand of good looks probably was even sexier in see-through nylon… so feminine.

Where was he? Presumably in Mr Chartier's friend's place. Perhaps he had passed out after the pummelling his prostate had taken from Mr Chartier's cock and the four times he had cum while being shagged, twice with a stream of boy-juice over his tanned chest, and then twice even more intensely but nearly dry. It had been a long and good session. Yes! That must be it. He had fainted, been delivered unconscious to the black millionaire's place, washed, powdered and prepared for sex, but left to recover a bit from the rigours of the afternoon earlier.He got up from the bed and looked out of the only window; the garden was lush and green, and the plants were a bit unfamiliar, but he supposed a millionaire might well have exotic plants in his garden. He shivered and realised why he was a bit cold: the place was air-conditioned. There was no-one in sight in the garden and the house was very quiet: he decided to try looking out the door, which was ajar. He was nearly at the door when it opened, and yet another huge black guy came in. Perhaps this was Mr Chartier's friend?

"Follow me. The General is waiting for you."

Cecil followed him, wondering why the guy was clad only in a white loin-cloth tied around his waist and if anything accentuating the bulge of his cock and balls. As he followed the man, Cecil could not take his eyes of those massive thighs like tree-trunks, and the muscles of his arse as he walked. He looked as if he would be a vigorous fucker! The rich friend must be The General, and with luck he would be built like his driver and servant.

Cecil would have liked to question this man, certainly a servant, but had to hurry to keep up with him, as he padded naked feet over polished wood flooring with the occasional furry animal skin as a mat here and there. The walls too were wood-panelled, but with a few paintings and occasionally a white marble statue on a plinth: always naked boys, statues and paintings! Every room was empty but luxuriously furnished till they came to a large hall in which there were some people. About a dozen young boys, all about his own age he guessed, but all black or brown, were lolling about on cushions and low beds like the one on which he had woken up. Several of them were playing computer games or watching television. Two were laying on a bed and kissing, fingers groping each other's little hard cocks. A few of the boys were wearing satin panties or thongs and one tall arab boy was in a long satin negligee and was looking at himself in a mirror, but most were naked. Except for the two on the bed they looked up as Cecil and his escort moved swiftly through the room.

Cecil did not mind them looking: he might as well be naked himself in this flimsy nightie and panties, and he knew he looked good. So did those boys. Cecil mostly had sex with grown men, but of course he enjoyed it too with those of his school-mates who were into little-boy sex, and he could have fancied any one of these. His cock, half-hard before at the prospect of a muscular black-man now went full-erect with the thought of being spit-roast by a couple of those boys, with their shiny black skin.

Cecil knew what a harem was, and clearly this millionaire, this 'General' had his own harem of little boys. Cecil smiled to himself: who could blame the guy? Cecil thought that he himself was rich he would have a harem of his own… all big strong guys with hard, springy cocks! He wondered where the guy's mansion was… Must be in the country to be as big as it semed. probably one of thos huge mansions in Surrey or somewhere…

And finally they were there.

His escort ushered the boy in first, saluting a man who was sitting at a huge mahogany desk. "The boy awoke five minutes ago. I brought him immediately as ordered."

"That is all, Mustapha."

Another salute, and the boy was left with 'Mr Chartier's friend'.

A moment silence while the guy, not moving from the huge mahogany chair with a high-domed back, inspected him. Cecil looked at him. He was wearing military uniform of the camouflage type, and it looked like thin cotton. You could see he was immense, barrel chested with bulging biceps (the jacket was short-sleeved), and very, very black. He did not smile, not at all.

"Ah! So you are the English whore…"

Cecil was not so pleased at that. All right, Mr Chartier always gave him a £5 note as did some other guys. Some of them gave him panties and stockings, high heeled shoes even, but that was really more for their own pleasure than as a reward he supposed. And one had even given him a pair of ear-rings… real diamonds. But these were presents not payment. No, not nice to be called a whore!

"They told me you were pretty. And you are. Turn round and show me your arse!"

That was better, the guy thought he was pretty!

"Take them off… those silken things."

"Good! The guy liked his boys naked. Better than those who wanted him in stockings and things…"

"Now bend and spread your buttocks, boy. Ah yes! you will find out soon what I do with boy-bottoms."

Cecil had often met this sort of role-playing stuff, and while it was a bit boring it made some guys really horny, which was good. Some wanted to be uncles with nephews, teachers with schoolboys, fathers and sons… the scenarios were endless, but always ended with the same two acts!

"Turn round and face me. Ah, yes. They told me you would be worth it. I paid five thousand for a white English girlie-boy and here he is. I am going to shag you, boy, and in fucking you I'll be fucking the whole bloody British Empire and their bloody Commonwealth. Churchill, Thatcher, The Queen, and bloody politicians who call me a slaver and try to get me in front of their bloody International Court."

"Five thousand what, Cecil wondered. Not pounds, obviously. And this guy was really over the top in his role-play… nasty chip on his shoulder. Still if it turned him on to humiliate a representative of England, so be it. as long as he fucked well! And if he considered me a whore then probably he would pay me!

"Come here, boy."

He was unzipping his uniform trousers, and you could see he had no underpants on as he levered out his cock. It was huge, and Cecil shuddered. It must be ten inches [25 cm] long and so broad at the knob… God! could he take one as big as that?

"Suck it, English whore!"

Cecil was intimidated a bit, partly by the size of that monstrous cock, but mostly because the man had a surly and angry tone all the time, as if he really meant to humiliate the boy. But Cecil reasoned to himself that this guy liked to role play, and if it was a bit realistic well he was not the first guy the boy had serviced who enjoyed these little mind-games. They were not real, only games after all. And that cock was magnificent, so tall and straight with huge veins standing out on it and a great, flaring purple head. Cecil was glad the guy had no foreskin as that would be an extra problem given the size of The General's weapon.

Cecil pulled the light cotton trousers down a bit so he could get at the balls: as he expected these were huge too, loose in their black sack, and the hair was crispy and tightly curled. He had never had a black guy before and was fascinated by this so-different pubic hair. He licked at the sack and nibbled it.

"I said suck, whore. Suck means suck!"

The knob was almost too big for Cecil's mouth: he was only twelve, though actually he would be thirteen next week. He had a sudden fear. Suppose at thirteen he was too old for the nice men who allowed him to suck their cocks, who gladly accepted his boy-juice into their eager mouths, and above all massaged his prostate with ther adult cocks. He managed to get the knob past his lips, and found the shaft, not as wide, did not stretch his mouth as much. He could suck, and it was really very nice. The guy was so macho and masculine: he might pretend to be a tyrant but Cecil understood men who liked to play dom-sub games with a willing girlie-boy. The shaft was moving nicely in and out his mouth now, though he could only take about half of it. The knob hit the top of his throat with each thrust, but he had long ago learned to repress the gagging reflex.

Those balls were interesting! Cecil cupped them in his little hand, white against black, and felt their weight. Very sexy! He pulled at the skin pinched between thumb and forefinger, and suddenly his mouth was filled with hot, creamy cum. The guy pulled his cock out and a second spurt hit the boy full in the face, splatting in a line of thick, white man-juice from his chin, across one eye, and over his forehead. Roughly The General grabbed the boy's head and forced it over his cock-head again so the next spurt again filled his mouth, and the next. The guy's legs had tensed and lifted off the floor while he came, but now the cock was motionless, still oozing gently and twitching from time to time, the tension left those tree-trunk thighs, and his boots were back on the floor.

The boy was surprised how quickly he had cum: he must have been desperate for it.

Thanks for good head? Hardly!

"Bloody English whore. Like all the whores you make me cum so I don't have your arse. You think because I cum I'll spare your tender bum? Well I'll show you what I do with whores' arseholes. I'll show you, English."

Cecil suddenly thought, 'What if the guy really means it. What if it isn't role-play?' He was frightened, but his cock still stood five-inches [12½ cm] proud, and the sight of those balls and the half-hard cock, hanging now like a thick, rubber air-hose, was still working its magic on the boy. He wanted the guy at least to try and get it up and into his tight little bum-hole.

The guy kicked at him as he knelt before the throne (for that is what it seemed), and the boy went flying backward. The boot had caught him in the chest, and it hurt.

This was no joke. However rich Mr Chartier's friend was he should not have done that. The little boy cock shrank back to winkle size!

But that was not all. The General grapped the lad by one arm, grip hurting him, and pushed him over a low bench covered with red leather. Bent double, Cecil felt his wrists and ankles bound by cold stainless steel. He heard four clicks as some sort of locking kept him bent double, head able to see little except the polished floor, and his legs spread wide open. He expected to be fucked imminently and was at least half looking forward to it. The man might be a nasty sort of bully, but he had a wonderful cock, the sort of cock you might go five years as a girlie-boy and never enjoy. Again, Cecil was aware he had spent three of his girlie-boy years already, and only really had two more before he was a full adolescent and no longer attractive to the boy-lovers he himself loved so much. He would make the most of this shag!

But he was wrong!

There was a whistling through the air and a terrible sharp pain across his buttocks. He was being whipped!

"One for the British empire, English boy-whore!"

"Please no. That's not right! Nooooo!"

Again that sinister whooshing.

"Two for Waterloo!"

"Three for Trafalgar!"

"Four for Churchill!"

"Five for the Queen."

"And six for the bloody International Court of Justice."

There was a pause, and Cecil felt fingers in his arse-crease. Oily fingers. Penetrating, finger-fucking hard. That was nice! His cock stiffened despite all. The fingers pulled out, and then a sudden searing pain as that great, flaring knob was forced into his bottom. Even the first time with Daddy had not been as painful as this. It was terrible, and his squeaky scream rang out though the corridors of the palace (for palace is what it was).

Cecil forced his anal sphincter to relax, as he had learned long ago, and gradually the pain reduced until of course it was replaced by the pleasure of the pummelled prostate. Not so pleasant was the slap on his already martyrised bottom as The General walloped him with an open hand to accompany each deep and powerful thrust. But as his anus learned to accommodate the unusual girth and length the pleasure increased and Cecil might even have cum if his violator had not cum first, muttering invective about England and Britain as he pumped his load into the boy.

No sooner done than cock was withdrawn and he retreated behind his desk again, wiping his weapon on a towel doubtless kept handy for cleaning up cum. He pushed a button and almost instantly the doors opened to admit the servant again.

"Clear away that rubbish and the English whore. I'm done with him for today."

The servant saluted, incongruous to see a military salute from a man dressed only in a white loin-cloth! He swept up the crumpled nylon nightie and panties, slipped the metal catches, and picked Cecil up as easily as he had lifted the lingerie.

Outside the room, still hoding the boy cradled in his arms, he whispered in his ear. "I'm Mustapha. I'll take you to my room and we'll clean you up, and put some soothing oil on your sore bottom-cheeks."

Cecil allowed himself to be carried, and it was good to feel this man caring for him.

"You smell nice, Mustapha."

"After I shower I use a light lemon-oil. That will be good for your sore bottom, too. You'll see."

Cecil nestled his head into that strong shoulder.

As tenderly as any father Mustapha carried the boy through long corridors, all empty of people, pushed a door open with a bare foot, and laid the boy on a bed. The room was nice… its window looked out onto the same garden Cecil had first seen when he had awoken and the sunlight streamed in. There was a fridge, a television, an armchair, and a table with two chairs. Through a half-open door the boy could see what looked like a shower room. The bed was big, and the sheet covering it was crisp and clean.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Cecil."

"Let me clean you up a bit."

Cum had dried on the boy's cheek and forehead and in little crusts across his smooth chest. Mustapha went to the shower room and emerged with a damp cloth which he used to wipe all traces of that first orgasm.

Mustapha felt a tenderness towards this young boy, so innocent and hardly understanding how desperate his situation was. These boys were all so pretty and so willing to please: he loved them all, and sometimes thought he and his fellow guards were substitute fathers, mothers too perhaps, for these lost boys. Though many fathers would baulk at the physical expression of that love that all the guards gave the boys. And how the little beauties loved that! How they loved these big cocks stretching their tight bottoms and filling their mouths, sucking their little-boy cocklets and swallowing the thin cum. The boys thought of their muscled guards as servants, companions, sex-partners, but guards they were nonetheless. He gently kissed the boy on his forehead. This was the first white boy The General had procured (heaven only knows where he got some of his harem), and with his blonde good looks and his clear, golden skin, the boy was going to be kept busy by a succession of male admirers. The boy smiled, timidly at him, and he kissed him on that snub-nose.

"Turn over on your belly, Cecil. Ah! Not too bad and I've seen worse. Those weals will soon go down and he has not broken the skin. That would be a shame with such a pretty bottom."

Cecil relaxed completely as strong hands massaged his bottom cheeks, waist, back and thighs, the clean scent of lemons filling the room. The stinging sensation went away.

"Did he hurt you here. I heard you scream?"

An oily finger penetrated the boy's bottom.

"At first. He's the biggest I ever had, and it hurt at first. Later it was nice, but not the slapping. He slapped me too hard, and it isn't fun any more if it really stings…"

"Then it was not the first time a man has had your bottom?"

"Jeez no. Lots of guys do me, and I really like it."

"That's good. It's terrible for the boys who have never been fucked, to have The General as their first…"

"He's a bully. And the dom thing is not just a game with him; he really means it."

"Poor Cecil! The General is a brute… but he's a good general all the same. His army are glad they have him!"

A finger still in the boy's bottom, he felt underneath and found Cecil's cock hard now.

"Did he let you cum?"

"I nearly did, but he was too quick."

"He always is! That's his main problem." Mustapha laughed. "Turn over again, Cecil, and we'll put that right."

He stood looking down at the angelic blonde boy with that pretty little-boy cock. He undid his loin cloth and let it fall to the floor. Cecil looked up saw a fine half-hard black cock, long and slender with a pointy purple knob… cut just as The General's had been, but nowhere near as thick. Just as long though. Their eyes met and they smiled, both complicit in the sex act that Cecil knew so well, that had been part of his daily routine since Daddy first showed him how to be fucked, so gently and happily for both of them. Cecil had been so proud when his father first slid that mysterious adult cock into his arse-hole, tight of course in a boy just eleven years old. He had not protested, and had soon learned to look forward to the morning fuck in the back of the car half-way to school, and the goodnight fuck last thing.

Mustapha knelt by the bed, leaned over and closed his lips round the little pink knob. The boy sighed, and opened his legs as the mouth sank down swallowing the whole cock until nostril rested on his pubes. A hand under the boy to continue the anal masturbation, the other hand cradling, stroking, tickling a tight little ball sack, and the familiar slurping-sound of a boy's cock slipping in and out of a man's mouth. Mustapha felt and saw the boys legs stretch and flex and knew he was about to be rewarded, and sure enough a silky stream of cum filled his mouth. It tasted like black boy's cum, Mustapha thought: interesting there was no difference there.

Cecil kept his hands on Mustapha's shaven head, holding it in place over his cock until the last twitches and little spasms of his orgasm were over and then released it.

Back on the bed he cuddled the boy, who enjoyed the muscular arms around him, the feel of that barrel chest, and above all the sensation of a now rock-solid cock pressing against him. It was always good to be cuddled by a handsome man, and the more so when it was the prelude to inevitable fucking. His Daddy would cuddle him tonight and would reward the boy for being good all day by a nce cock in his mouth or bottom. Cecil loved a cuddle. As they kissed, Cecil reached down and grasped the rigid pole, feeling a suspicion of precum at its tip.

"'Do you want to… ?"

"I certainly do Cecil. Kneel for me on the bed."

The boy felt bristly chin betweeen his buttock cheeks, and then a pointed tongue licking around his anus. It penetrated and Cecil pushed backwards, giggling as he always did when rimmed.

"That's lovely, but I want you to fuck me, Mustapha. I really do. Please."

"Ah! These so-willing boys, though it was not always that they were so keen the first day they arrived, and especially after meeting The General! When they had been traumatised by their first, really bad sex, then Mustapha and his fellow guards would cuddle and kiss them, whisper in their ears, but spare them any more stress from oral or anal sex. Always after a few days with the other boys in the play-room new arrivals were ready for it, even eager!

Strong hands parted the boys rounded cheeks, still with something of the feminine at nearly thirteen, and lacking the masculine angularity that comes at fifteen or so. The boy's anus was relaxed and would still be oiled from the finger-fucking so Mustapha merely oiled his own cock, making sure the knob was especially shiny, and with a firm push forced it into the boy's anus.

Cecil was happy: this is how it should be: a huge, strong guy, but gentle and kind too, concerned that his girlie-boy lover should enjoy it as much as he did. Nice Mr Chartier was like that: not strong of course, but loving and considerate. The guy was fucking him well now, long slow strokes into him, and quickly out, for another slow, powerful thrust, and his knob-head was brushing against the boy's pleasure spot every time. Cecil found himself dreaming about his Papa again, thinking that daddy would fuck him just like this. He wondered if he were to take that see-through nightie home with him tonight, and showed it to Daddy, would he want to kiss him with more than the regulation peck on the cheek or forehead. The boy was getting quite excited now, and knew that he might come just from the steady prostate massage, without wanking himself at all.

"Can I turn over, please, Mustapha? This is lovely, but I want to be able to see you while you… while you do me." 'Fuck' seemed to crude a word for this loving sex, with gentle hands caressing his buttocks, back, shoulders, neck, while that cock inexorably plumbed him. He felt Mustapha's tongue licking his back a moment.

Wordless, Mustapha managed to turn the boy without wholly removing his cock, and continued fucking, the boy's legs now tucked under his arms, gold and black together. As he knew he would be, Cecil saw his lover was smiling happily as he calmly thrust in and out. He reached up and managed to touch one of the black man's man-breasts, pecs developed and muscular.

His own cock was just demanding it: the prostate massage was even better in this position, and when Mustapha bent him nearly double, with his slender legs over those massive ebony shoulders, the pleasure was intense and continuous. He got a hand on each pec now, and felt the muscles beneath the now-sweating skin. Mustapha murmured something in his own language, and Cecil knew he was coming, pouring his man-seed deep into the boy just as he loved. The thought of those streamers of silky cum in his rectum so excited the boy that he was coming too, without having touched his cocklet. The stream of boy-juice splattered over his own face and in a streamer down his chest and belly: a second spurt covered his belly in white droplets, and then, as he held it for the first time, it oozed onto his fist.

Mustapha released the boy's legs and with his cock still inside him scooped some of the boy-juice onto his index finger and licked it off.

"Lovely! That was lovely, Cecil. you are a good boy, and very pretty. I think you will be happy here eventually."

Cecil's anus expelled the cock just as he wondered what the man meant. He would be going home soon. Did Mustapha expect him to be coming back again? Well, he wasn't returning here. Whatever Mr Chartier said he was not having anything more to do with that General man, however friendly he was with Mr Chartier, however rich he was.

Mustapha smiled, and wiped the boy clean with the same damp flannel, before kissing him.

"Put these on again, and we'll go back to the playroom, where the other boys will want to get to know you.' Mustapha wound the white cloth around his cock and bum, and clipped it in place. There was a military uniform pressed smartly and hanging on the back of the shower dook but it seemed that Mustapha usually just went around in his underwear. Strange! But sexy!

Cecil wished there was a mirror so he could see himself in that sexy nightie and panties, but the only one was head and shoulders, so he used that to straighten his hair before holding hands with Mustapha, and again threading through long, polished corridors.

At the door of what Cecil had already learned was called the 'Playroom' he was left standing and looking at the boys, who had not noticed him yet. At last one of them, a lively-looking black boy dressed in girlie white nylon knickers and nothing else saw him and came scampering over.

"Hello! I'm Benjie."

"I'm Cecil…"

"Hey, you're English! I'm English too. Where are you from?"

Cecil was mystified again. why was the boy surprised he was English?… He really was not likely to be anything else, surely? But he replied, "Windsor."

"Peckham me. I've been here about a month. I'm the newest of the boys before you came. The others speak a bit of English, but not much, so am I glad you're here. And you look veyr tasty in that nightie! Yummy, yummy."

"Thanks, Benjie. And you look tasty too!"

"Those two guys sucking each other off over there are both arabs, one from Syria and the other from Israel. The two guys playing backgammon are from Nigeria and Ghana. And those three looking at the porn on the tv are all local boys. There's a couple of others too, but I guess theyve decided to go to bed together in private. Did The General hurt you much?"

"He's a pig. He called me an English Whore, he kicked me, tied me up and whipped me and then buggered me. I don't mind being had that way, in fact I usually like it. But I don't think he was doing it for pleasure, just trying to hurt me and make me ashamed. He's a pig, and I don't like him."

"None of us do. But luckily there's a lot of boys here. As well as those in this part of the Palace, there's another lot somewhere else, according to the servants, so with about twenty boys we don't get to see him much. He whips boys because that's the only way he can get it up again after he's cum the first time. And he has to do it twice as he cums so quick the first time that he can't even get it in you before it spurts. That's why he's so nasty I think. But his army love him because he makes them rich and gives them girls and boys. Best is the servants. there's probably probably about thirty of them and they are all built like the one you've seen, and they are all lovely in bed. When three or four come down to the playroom together there's real fun and games… The boys here all love sex."

"They all look nice. But where do you think my clothes are? I should get dressed as the car will come for me soon I'm sure: I'm not supposed to be out too late. My Daddy will be waiting for me for my good-night kiss."

"Car? I don't get it…"

"I came in a limousine, but I expect it will be a taxi back… usually is."

"Where do you think you are, Cecil?"

"I reckoned we must be in one of those big country houses in Surrey, or perhaps Berkshire…"

"Oh dear. You'd better come with me a minute…"

He led our little boy to a tall door and opened it. Both stepped out into sunlight, but a terrible moist heat after the cool of the air conditioning. And there was a smell on the air, like mushrooms, or decaying vegetation. Benjie closed the door behind them. "Where do you think you are now?"

"I've never seen anywhere like this. It almost looks like jungle, like on the television."

"It is, Cecil. This is The Peoples Republic of Matalanga, or rather that bit of it that belongs to The General and his army."

The jungle stretched like an ocean of green for miles.

"There's no road into this place… The General's Palace… The only way in and out is by helicopter so we're here until The General gets fed up with us… probably when we're about fifteen they say."

"Oh my God! I've been kidnapped…"

"We all have. On the other hand it's a cozy life, with games. There's a gym and swimming pool we can use three days a week… the other days are for the other room and we don't ever meet them. There's computer games, surfing the net, television. And of course all the sex you could ever want. Beats Peckham, I think.

"I can see buses, there right at the horizon…"

There was a scar in the jungle, just within eye-sight, a red gash, with grey streaks. The boy could just make out yellow vehicles moving.

"That's the diamond mines: they ain't buses: they're huge lorries about ten miles away. And behind that is the army camp. The mines are why The General is so rich and can have so many boys, and the army is to stop any of the other warlords around here taking it all from him."

"It's too hot out here." The black see-thru nylon was sticking to his skin. they turned and went back into the cool of their gilded cage.

The End