I decided, as I looked at him, that he is incredibly beautiful
and I gently brush the smooth satin skin with my hand. I have
watched people’s heads turn and look at him when we are out
together. I have seen men and women stare at the beautiful boy and
I sense that they are attracted, enamored of the boy with the lithe
graceful body. I know they wonder whether I am his father or merely
a friend. The boy feels deliciously warm and his body seems to glow
with energy and life. His skin is perfectly smooth with the silky
oiliness of a child, a dry warmth emanating from a lustrous brown
body.

Anton was indignant at first, but the idea had been planted in his
mind, and soon spread to his loins. Though his mouth refused, his penis showed a different opinion. It soon became clear that he would
have to allow Jag to help him for there was to be no privacy for self
relief. And the painful hardness showed relief was necessary. Anton
submitted to Jag’s hands. Jag expressed a wish to help him enjoy himself as much as possible. When the act was thoroughly underway, and
his hands were controlling Anton to a near climax, he had suggested
that Anton allow him to use his mouth to make the act even more pleasurable. Anton, who if in a less excited state who most certainly have
recoiled from the suggestion, gave a silent acquiescence to Jag, whose
warm mouth soon enclosed his shaft.

As Anton entered, the lithe figure that had been lying on one of
the bunks arose to a relaxed position of attention to greet him. He
was about a year older than Anton, though he looked perhaps a little
younger than him. In many ways he was similar, a little lighter in
build, but clearly athletic. He was black haired, with a light olive
skin – the hair thick on his head and brows, but his body clear, ex-
cept for the inevitable dusting on his legs and lower arms. The per-
fect tan of him was the product of hours under the sun, with due care
to the arrangement of lighter and darker shadings to emphasise his
good looks. He had chosen to keep his sexual midriff white, always
wearing briefs, because he liked the bright contrast of the darker
stomach and thighs and the dramatic shock of thick black pubic hair.
He answered to Jag, or `Lightning Loins’. His voice was as smooth as
his skin and as dark as his hair.

Slowly Klaudio worked. This had to be a good one – a better one
than a quick hand job – but he could use only limited resources for
fear of spooking his charge. A short burst of speed had Anton groan-
ing, and the feet started working. His hands, which had released the
grip on the sheets now clutched them again, but from ecstasy not fear.
His body began to arch up, but Klaudio knew how to change his grip at
the right moment, holding him there for a full minute before reducing
the stimulation to allow him to get his breath. Anton’s face now
looked very different. The strain that showed there now was from a
different stable, and the open mouthed smile was real.

Five times did Klaudio make his loins rear up and hold him there,
until he was crying out to be allowed to come. Then he came – shooting
high to land on his taut, flat belly. Klaudio risked trapping the
later spurts with his lips pressed to the eye of Anton’s glans: he was
too far gone to notice even if he had bitten the end off. He reeled
back, practically in a faint. By the time he was taking notice again,
Klaudio had cleaned him up and zipped his flaccid weapon back into his
fly, and began the language lesson as if nothing had happened.

Then he closed his eyes, flicked the light switch, and rolled over
on his side to sleep.
Anton looked towards the door at the sound, then dropped a hand
quickly to his crotch, to flatten his erection and to conceal it? His
hand gripped his weapon. Feverishly he pulled at the unfamiliar zip,
but by the time Klaudio had entered, his penis was still exposed. Anton froze.

Klaudio stood facing the bed, and smiled. With an exaggerated expression of delight, he started to point to the various parts of the
prick, repeating their names. His pointing finger got closer and
closer, but still he did not touch it. As he got very close, Anton’s
hands clutched at the surface of the bed. How long would he bear this
language lesson, before grabbing his tool and stuffing it hastily away
inside his trousers?

Then again he relaxed. He reached a hand up to move the book,
placing it upright on the bed, propped against the side mirror wall of
the alcove and turned the upper part of his body so that he could
stare at it.

And his eyes thus engaged, he resumed the pumping action. A looser
grip at first, his hand sliding farther up and down the shaft, then a
tighter grip at the top, the side of his finger digging into the sen-
sitive point. He meant to complete the job this time.

His other hand was cupped to his bollocks, the forefinger digging
into the root of the shaft beneath the taut skin. Did he mean to halt
the flowing? His hips and thigh reared up once more, his toes and feet
twisting the sheet into knots beneath them. The sheen on his glans was
lost as the pores open up with the climactic blood flow. He would
come! He would come!

He closed the book, laid it flat on his stomach, and passed a hand
down to grasp his shaft, then he began the work of the hand on the rod
of iron. His technique was obviously practised, but unsophisticated.
Writhing; delicious: he was a toe wiggler. The thigh muscles filled -
full buns with deep side hollows and a clean division between the
curve of the bun and the straighter convexity of the under-thigh. As
the knees came up, the deep top grooves were clear, and most inviting.

I had been riding for some seven hours now, but wasn’t yet tired. The

sun had just started to draw the evening curtains, and there was a

faint hint of rain on the cooling twilight air. I was cruising along a

quiet back road in Sussex on my BMW K100.

I have been riding bikes since I was 16, that’s 24 years now. I

have always liked biking, and will do it for as long as I can. I’m not

a flash rider. My bike is silver and standard; and I wear jeans and a

black leather jacket. I like wearing jeans, they are comfortable and

offer a little more protection than trousers.

I was doing about 50 when I saw across the hedge a Day-Glow lemon

top and black trousers. Quick check, no speed O.K. as I’m outside the

limit, still be careful! After rounding a couple of bends the road

straightened out and I could see the figure some way ahead. I was

wrong, it wasn’t the law, just some youngster in a fluorescent top and

black track suit trousers. He was hitching as far as I could tell from

this distance, but I don’t pick up hitch-hikers. Still I was in a good

mood as the day had been good; and he was miles from anywhere on a

road with little traffic and he couldn’t cause me much trouble on the

back really. I slowed down and pulled up alongside him.

Hewas about 18 I assume, but it was difficult to tell. Dark hair

and deep brown eyes. He was about five feet eight and had an athletic

build.

“Can I give you a lift, there’s a spare helmet in the back box.”

“Thanks very much mate.”

“Where are you going?”

“About twelve miles along this road, well I live just a bit off

but if you drop me at the turning I can walk from there.”

“That’s O.K. I’ll go all the way.”

“Good, that would be super.”

“Have you ever back-ridden before?”

“No, well not on one of these.”

“Well just hold on tight and stick close behind me. Don’t try to

stay upright when I lean the bike, now climb up and when we are near

your turning tap me on the left or right shoulder and I will take the

next left or right turn.”

“O.K. you’re the gov.”

He climbed up and slid himself forward till he was close behind

me. Instead of holding the seat he put his arms round my waist; obvi-

ously not been a back-rider before. We started off, and gathered

speed. There are some people who find the vibration and motion of a

big bike rather stimulating, perhaps that’s why I like bikes, all that

power throbbing between my thighs. I think it must have affected him,

as he pressed harder into my back, and I was sure I could feel quite a

hard bulge pressing against my rear. A few more miles and I felt his

hands slip down from my waist to my hips, then slowly he moved his

hands down onto my cock. The inevitable happened and my cock began to

stir and rise. He didn’t take his hand away, but cupped my swelling

bulge. Suddenly I felt a tap on my left shoulder so I regained concen-

tration, slowed and turned left up a little lane. I saw a cottage in

the distance on the right and then felt a tap on my right shoulder. I

slowed and stopped at the entrance to the drive of the cottage. He

slid off the back and removed the helmet. He stood next to me and

asked “Would you like a coffee or something before you go. I’d like to

thank you. There’s nobody in, my parents are on holiday.”

It was a bit chilly and I hadn’t had a drink since lunch. I looked

at him, and the thrusting bulge in his tracksuit. Why not.

“That would be great,” I replied. I parked the bike and went in

after him.

“Here, let me take your jacket. I’ve put the coffee on, I’m just

going to get out of these trousers, the damp has got in them. Make

yourself at home. By the way my name is Wayne.”

“Thanks, I’m Nick.” I watched as that tight little arse walked out

of the room. Don’t be silly, he would never go for someone my age; and

anyway he had done nothing since we stopped to indicate he wanted any-

thing like that; just my imagination.

I heard a door click in the kitchen and the rattle of cups. A

minute or two later Wayne came in with two cups of coffee, and very

little else. Gone was his tee-shirt and trainers. Gone were the track-

suit trousers. He was wearing a pair of white shorts. At first I

thought they were boxers, cut high in the legs, but no they were run-

ning shorts; and the way things hung and moved I could see there was

nothing underneath but flesh.

He handed me a cup and said “Sugar is on the table.”

He went across to a low table and bent down to put sugar in his

coffee. The material pulled tight across his cheeks, showing how

round, firm and neat it was. I could have grabbed it right then but,

wow Nick!, don’t be silly. I got my sugar and we stood drinking and

making small talk. He was just 16 it turned out. He’d been out walking

and was on his way home when I came across him. His parents we away in

Paris for a long weekend and so he was looking after himself for five

days. So far he had been O.K. but there were still three days to go.

I turned to put my cup on the fire surround, Wayne had finished

his. Suddenly I felt his arms slip round me again. “I enjoyed back-

riding with you. I felt very exhilarated. How did you feel?”

I turned and looked at him, he had a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Well, I, er felt….”

“I know how you felt, I felt it!” As he said this his hand reached

forward and cupped the bulge in my jeans. I could see the swelling in

his shorts, thick and thrusting against the material; and probing down

his right leg. It must almost have reached the bottom. “I like to feel

a cock in jeans,” he said.

“Look”, I replied, “I don’t want to seem uninterested, but I can’t

understand why a youngster like you, as good looking and well built as

you, would want to bother with someone my age!”

“Well first, I don’t like people my own age, no experience nor

staying power. Secondly there is very little around here at all. And

thirdly you are here and I am turned on. Are you going to say no?” He

was slipping my zip down as he said this. I didn’t say no. He slipped

his hand into my jeans and very gently massaged my ever swelling cock.

I ran my hands over that firm hairless, muscular body. As I caressed

his small but firm nipples he gave a low moan of pleasure. Slowly I

ran my hands across his chest and back, lower and lower, until I

reached his shorts. I took hold of that swelling cock through the thin

material. Another deep moan of pleasure.

Suddenly he burst into action. His hands were under my tee-shirt.

He pushed it up. Sucking my nipples he almost tore the tee-shirt off

me. Then hands slid down to my waist and my jeans were undone and

slipped over my thighs. “You’ve got a great arse”. He said, “Really

small and round for your age, so neat and tight.”

The with a shove I was flat on my back on a couch. My boots and

socks were ripped off, my jeans followed. He came forward and I

slipped my hand up the leg of his shorts and took hold of that firm

youthful cock. He froze for a moment, then relaxed and groaned with

pleasure. I moved my hand up and down the shaft. I could feel he was

uncut, and there was just a little hair around the base. His balls

were firm and full.

I stood up before him and put my hands on his waist. My nipples

were lust in line and he nibbled and sucked them for a moment. I slid

down to my knees and slowly slipped those shorts down over his arse.

His cock, almost six inches I would guess, thrust out straight and

proud from his body. All reticence went, I slipped my lips over that

young shaft and sucked and tongued it. He groaned and moaned, as I

tongued the tip he writhed with pleasure. Then he pulled me off him

and up.

It was his turn, and he dropped in front of me. He nibbled my cock

through the material of my briefs, and then pulled them down with his

teeth; all the time squeezing and massaging my arse. He licked and

kissed his way up my legs and slipped his smooth young lips over my

cock. It filled his mouth and he gagged a bit but sucked long and

deep. I didn’t know how much more of that I could take. He stopped and

stood up. Pulling my head down he kissed me, our tongues probing and

touching. Then he led me upstairs to a bedroom.

“Please lay on the bed, across not end to end. I want to see and

handle all of you. Your cock is long and very thick, a beauty.”

“So is yours”, I replied, “And you also have a nice bum.”

He open a drawer in the bedside cabinet and took out a plastic

bottle. He poured something into his hand and started to rub my cock

again. It was baby oil. He rubbed it all over my cock and balls, and

down between my legs. “Please rub some into my cock too, Sir,” he

asked.

I slowly rubbed it all over his cock and balls. By now he had his

legs and bum near my head and was reaching down to my legs. He lifted

the left legs and rubbed oil into my arse. He probed the hole and I

moaned. My arse is very very sensitive, but very little used.

“You enjoyed that didn’t you?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied in a horse whisper.

He moved and positioned himself between my legs. He lifted my legs

onto his shoulders and started to rub more oil into my cock. It felt

great and I closed my eyes with pleasure. I felt his finger at my arse

again and it probed inside; no that was no finger. I open my eyes and

looked at Wayne. He had a look of pure pleasure on his face as he slid

hid cock into my arse. He thrust in time with the rubbing of my cock,

and each thrust produced a deep satisfied moan.

I thought he was going to cum, but no, he pulled out of me. He

climbed up and sat on my stomach. He rubbed my throbbing rock hard

cock, which was behind him and against his arse. Then he lifted him-

self and position my cock against his bum hole. Slowly he lowered him-

self, but as it pushed in he froze and moaned, this time with pain.

“I want it, but its so big, please I want it!” He pushed down

again, but as soon as I was a bit more in he stopped and I could see

the expression of pain on his face.

“Don’t worry Wayne, if you can’t manage it, don’t hurt yourself.”

“But I want it, and the pain is good as well as bad.” He pushed

down some more and I was almost in when he stopped. “Ohhhh! God it is

big!”

I could see it was really hurting, but he would not stop pushing

down. I could also feel just how tight he was. He pushed once more and

so I took a hand. As I felt his pressure go on I thrust up with my

hips as hard as I could. He yelled, screamed, and I slid into that

tight arse.

“Oh God, thank you,” he said and fell onto my chest.

I slowly drew out and thrust again, he moaned and move. I repeated

the thrust and withdrawal, he sat up. Now he was moving, up and down,

pushing so hard he almost had my balls in him as well. Up and down, up

and down, moaning and groaning and writhing in pleasure.

“Oh no, I’m going to cum without touching myself, Oh God, Oh God

Oh……”

He pumped up and down, faster and faster; then with a mighty down-

ward push that nearly sent me through the bottom of the bed he shoot

his young warm juices all over my chest and face. He fell forward onto

his own cum and rubbed it in with his body. He licked my face clean.

Slowly he rose from off me. He licked my body clean of his cum,

slowly working down to mt now dripping rampant cock. His lips closed

over it, and he sucked long and deep. My hand slid between his legs

and I played with his now soft cock. In no time he was hard again and

he eagerly sucked me, and I fucked his mouth. I knew I couldn’t hold

out much longer.

He was sucking as hard as he could and fucking my hand. My body

lifted in an arc off the bed and I gave a mighty moan and froze. My

hot cum shot into his eager mouth, over and over again. The first wave

caused him to cum a second time. He sucked and swallowed and sucked

and swallowed. At last I was empty. He licked my softening cock and my

balls. Then he slid onto the bed beside me.

We must have fallen asleep very quickly. It was pitch black we

woke up.

“I don’t suppose you could stay the night could you?”

“I haven’t got any things Wayne.”

“You’ll only need a toothbrush and a lot of stamina; and I’ve got

a spare toothbrush.”

When I eventually got home late the next day I slept for 15 hours.

Wayne was the best back-rider I’ve ever had.