Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Train Spotting : by (c) Hamilton Joyce

   Often after his sex a customer will ask that question all whores know
only too well.  'How did you get into this game?'

   Sitting, propped up against a pillow, smoking, two limp cocks, I would
make up all sorts of stories.  Usually I would invent a drunken father who
took my innocent virginity one night, while my mother watched.  Then this
twelve-year-old boy was pimped by him to wealthy clients...  politicians,
popstars and business men...  while we lived in the resulting luxury on the
Cote d'Azur.  Sometimes I was a choirboy too pretty for the village vicar
to resist.  Often, if I told the tale well my client would get hard again,
and pay for a repeat session.

   But this is the truth, how it really happened that I became a male
prostitute, and a very successful one at that.

   In the mid sixties it was still possible sometimes to see one of the
last steam locomotives, and the new sleek, streamlined diesels were coming
in.  I would have been twelve in 1965, and was bitten by the railway bug. I
remember the walls of the cubby-hole called my bedroom were lined with
pictures of the great engines of the past and the future.  I read all I
could about railways, borrowing everything I could find in the Library. 
And, of course, going train-spotting.

   Victoria Station was the closest to our flat for this, though it did not
have a large variety of engines.  I soon found there was a group of boys at
the end of platform nine writing train numbers and descriptions in their
exercise books.  There were about a dozen such enthusiasts, and most days
after school or the weekend three or four would be train spotting.

   A bit about myself at twelve.  I guess I had just reached puberty, that
time when the balls itch with new fine hair, and the hormones race, when
you can wank, wank, and wank again with great energy.  I can remember it
only took the vibration of the motor to make me hard when I sat on a bus,
or the closenesss of a male suit in the crush on the Underground.  There's
only two photographs of me as an early teen, both in football strip: I
should think we never ran to owning a camera ourselves!  I was a good
looking lad.  I played centre-half, what would now be called midfield, and
then as now it was the position of the biggest and strongest on the team. I
was tall for my age, and you can see my shoulder and arm muscles beginning
to develop.  But my legs and arse look still slender and boyish in the
too-tight shorts.  This was probably because I used to do press-ups every
morning, developing my chest and arms at the expense of my legs.  But I was
really handsome with my rather too-long hair (that was beginning to be the
fashion), dark and wavy, a cheeky Cockney grin and, though the pictures are
black and white, piercing blue eyes.  The combination of dark, latin looks,
blue eyes, and a good six-pack has earned me a lot of cash over the years.
That summer I would have been even darker tanned, as I used to sunbathe on
our flat's balcony.

   I wish there was a photo of me naked then!  I wonder how big my cock
was. About four inches I think I remember.  Any male who had a penchant for
boys would have found me about ideal.  Lots did!

   The eyes came from my mother who was blonde: the Latin colouring must
have come from my father whoever that was.  My mother worked as a barmaid,
shop assistant and part-time whore.  We lived in a crummy apartment high up
in the sky.  Brick built and old, it was cheap: that was all it had going
for it.  To be fair, though, it did face south, and we were high enough up
to avoid most of the noise.  But it was small.  I had a tiny room, almost a
cupboard, and my mother slept in the main room.  There was a tiny kitchen
and an even smaller bathroom.

   My mother was very beautiful, still, in her early thirties.  There was
no room for modesty in our cramped home, and I had often seen her naked,
and in the sexy lingerie she used when 'working' in the evenings.  Mostly
she 'did her business' round the back of some shop or other, but sometimes
she brought a special guy home, and from the age of four sex was no mystery
to me.  I'd seen sucking, fucking, arse-fucking, strap-ons, even threesomes
where she would bring a couple of bisexual males home, bondage, whipping.
....oh the whole lot of it.  And I'd seen a lot of naked guys and erect
cocks, and men sucking and fucking each other.

   I suppose some psychologists might say that with no father, and a mother
who shamelessly showed herself, I was destined to be gay.  Others would
claim it was in my genes.  Whatever the cause, it was the guys who aroused
my interest, especially the big, hairy, masculine ones, or the young,
muscular studs with broad shoulders and tiny hips, the type of body I
intended to build for myself.  And cocks, of course.  I even dreamed about
cocks.  I longed to have a big, grown-up cock, and had worked out that the
more I used it, the bigger it would grow, like biceps!

   My mother was not at all house-proud : and who would be with that crap
appartment!  What it would have been like if I did not sometimes dust and
vacuum-clean it I dread to think.  I used to keep my own room nice and
tidy, but was forever clearing up behind mother.  She always left clothes
strewn all over the place, especially if she had entertained a 'friend' the
night before.  I used to enjoy using a discarded pair of panties to jerk
myself off, luxuriating in the satin feel on my young cock.  I guess I was
not producing cum when I started doing that.  Of course, one day I slipped
a pair on.  I remember them so well!  Black and scarlet satin, they were,
with a split up the front.  I had watched through a crack in the door the
night before as a youngish guy, looked like a City Businessman, had sucked
her cunt through that split, his arms around her feeling the satin
stretched tight over her lovely arse.  She had later stripped him, sucked
him, and finally ridden him, kneeling over him and lowering her cunt,
framed by these same knickers, slowly down onto his nearly hairless cock.
The next afternoon I looked at myself in her long mirror, and liked what I
saw.  My little cock stood proud at fortyfive degrees, sticking out through
the lace and nylon.

   As I wanked I imagined myself in his arms, like my mother.  I thought of
his mouth on my cock, like a girl's clitoris.  I stroked my arse with my
free hand, and pretended, eyes closed, that he was feeling me as he sucked.
I came, and remember seeing a small spurt of cum fly out and hit the
mirror. I was excited.  I knew all about cum, of course, and had seen lots
of it in our flat, over mother's face, over her pretty tits, her arse, and
even over some guy's naked chest and belly.  Now I had my own cum.  I was a
man!  I recall wiping the smear with my finger and transferring the drop of
liquid to my mouth.  The first cum to enter there, but not the last!

   From then on, either knickered or naked, in front of the mirror or in my
bed at night, I fantasised being my mother, shagged, sucked, caressed by
handsome men.  I tried imagining fucking her myself but it did not work for
me.  I even stuck a finger up my arse and imagined she was having me with
her black strap-on..."Steely Dan" she called it.  That was better, but did
not work either.  I knew she was pretty and sexy, especially her small,
shapely breasts, but it was always the guys that turned me on.  And that
finger up my arse, like a cock in her cunt!

   I managed to steal a few American magazines from a market stall in
Petticoat Lane in the East End, and would jerk off to pictures of naked
males, athletic and oiled, and with large, willing cocks!  I imagined them
in my mouth, and up my bottom.Some of the pictures reminded me of mother's
threesomes, guys up each other's arses or sucking in beautiful sixty-nines.
Some of my wanking was increasingly imagining myself as male, playing with
an older male friend.  As time went by my mother, her breasts and her
lingerie became less important, her male visitors and any photos of men I
could find more important and effective.  I soon discovered that I was
circumcised, "cut", and that most men in the magazines were not.  I found
this fascinating, and it gave my sexual fantasies variety: sometimes my
imaginary lover would be cut, and sometimes I would have the pleasure (and
still a mystery to me still) of slipping the foreskin free of his knob.

   But back to trainspotting.I was well into my twelfth year, and at the
start of the summer holidays my mother said it would be ok for me to go by
myself to Kings Cross Station.  The boys at Victoria Station said it would
be better at Kings Cross as there were more and bigger locomotives for the
long journeys north, but the fare was four pence.  I found that by taking
my time and jumping off the old Routemaster's open platform just before the
conductor came to collect the fare I could ride for free.  The bus was a
number 24 or 29 .

   That first day I went to the end of platform one, the longest platform
and the one that the Scotland trains used.  There was a similar group of
boys to that at Victoria, but as well as the boys there were two or three
men who were standing about and apparently watching the trains.  I soon
noticed that they were watching the boys mostly.  The second time I went,
trusted now, one of the boys asked me to watch out for him.  He disappeared
behind the heap of baskets and mail-sacks always there, in the company of a
grown-up guy.  'Whistle if someone comes!' Five minutes later the guy came
out by himself, and walked very quickly away, eyes downcast.  A couple of
minutes, and then my new friend Dazza emerged.

   'You should try that, Kevin.  It's easy money and they'll go crazy for
you.'

   'Try what?'

   'It's two pounds for them to suck you off, and a pound for you to blow
them.' He showed me three green pound notes.  'It's best to have them suck
you first, and then they always want sucking.  Three pounds, eh?  Easy
money.'

   I should add that the average wage then was probably about fifteen
pounds a week, so three pounds was certainly useful!

   'You do the next one.  That guy emptied me.  Go on.  Give it a try.'

   And I did.

   My first guy was not really my type at all, but whores can't be chosers
(at least till they are rich and successful like yours truly nowadays!). 
And, of course, I've never forgotten him, and would not even if he had not
cropped up again later in my life.  He was that bank-clerk, estate-agent
type, rather mousey and down-trodden, middle-aged and greying.  You could
see he would have the flabby body that comes of a sedentary job.  He was
nervous as anything, but a driven man: he had to have cock, boy-cock.  He
kept looking over his shoulder as he came up the long, empty platform.  One
of the advantages of this venue was that you could see a long way off, and
if any railwaymen came you had plenty of warning.  (Some of the railway
guys were not adverse to a quickie with one of the boys, though.  We never
charged to suck them off.)

   'I've never seen that guy before.  But he's a mark, certain.  He's yours
if you want him.  I'm emptied for a bit in any case.'

   He felt he had to make some conversation, though that was really
unnecessary.  Both parties knew what was wanted, and it was enough to just
stroll behind the mail trolleys.  He was nervous as he asked about the
trains.  I could see him looking me up and down, avoiding my eyes, but his
glance often returning to my crotch.  I studied him.  He had the beginnings
of a beer-belly but he was hard!  To my surprise I found I was getting hard
too.  He was nowhere near as sexy as my mother's guys, but he was
available, and he was going to have me.  My trainspotter mate wandered off
to look at a diesel locomotive, and at last the john plucked up courage.

   'Do you want to earn some money?'

   'It's £2 for a blowjob, £4 to blow me.'

   'They told me it was £1 and £2.'

   'I'm better looking than the others and I'm only twelve.'

   'That's true.  We go round the back there?'

   He wanted me to blow him, and I had him pay me first, shoving the notes
in the back pocket of my shorts.  He unzipped and I saw he had no
underpants on: clearly he had come out specially for this.  He was small,
no bigger than mine.  I knew about cocks having seen dozens over the years
of watching my mother fuck her clients.  Six inches is probably about
average, and the biggest I had seen to that date was ten.  My mother
measured it with a tape-measure, and was clearly impressed.  Like all
twelve year olds I was concerned that mine was small and measured it often
to see if it was growing.  It was, and had reached four inches by the time
I had my first sex, that July day.  He left his trousers belted up, and
just stuck his cock out of the flies, so small that it scarcely protruded
at all from the black, pin-striped cloth.

   'Wouldn't you rather suck me off first?'

   'No.  Just suck me.'

   'I've a lovely little cock, and I'm hard.  My balls are lovely and
smooth.  I'm sure you'd love to suck me.  Come on!  It's only £4.'

   'Just suck me!'

   I knelt and took his knob in my mouth.  He sighed, and held my head in
both hands as he shoved his cock in.  It was easy to accommodate in my
mouth.  He smelt of aftershave, but there was also that smell of urine that
most guys, even the best-groomed and wealthiest, seem to get on their
suits. His cock was pleasant in my mouth, and he did most of the moving,
fucking me there.  I was still hard, if anything even harder, and I
realised that this was what I had always wanted.  And to be paid for
fulfilling my fantasies was even better.  I put my arms round his hips and
a hand on each buttock, partly to keep my balance as I knelt and partly
because I wanted to feel him there.  The whole job only took a couple of
minutes, and I felt him spurt in my mouth.  He may have been small, but he
had plenty of cum, and I found myself swallowing the silky, slippery,
slightly salt cum as he filled my mouth several times.  As he pulled his
cock from my mouth and stuck it back inside his suit I wondered if I should
have spat it out, but decided I rather liked the taste and the feel as I
swallowed.  It tasted just like my own really.  Just more of it.

   Without another word, he was away, almost running down the platform. 
Dazza was hunkering down.

   'OK?'

   ''Just a £1 blowjob.  Didn't want to suck me.'

   Dazza laughed and stuck a hand out to grab me in the crotch.  'Left you
hard, did he, the bastard!  Well, next guy's yours as well.  I need at
least half an hour.'

   When the next john arrived, I could see Dazza at least half regretted
letting me have him as well.  The new guy was much more like what I wanted.
A builder type with sandy, scuffed boots, and well-worn working clothes. 
His denim shirt was open to the waist and I was instantly struck by his
broad chest with well defined pecs.  He was hairless, and his skin had a
lovely golden tan.  He was just the sort of guy I fantasised about, big,
strong, blonde, young.  I was sure now Dazza was regretting allowing me ...
there was no doubt Dazza too was getting hard as the mark walked, smiling,
towards us.  It was me he wanted, and me he addressed.

   I'm Randy.'

   'I'm Kevin.'

   'I'm Randy, Kevin.  And my name's Spad.'

   It's an old joke, but a good one, and both of us knew exactly what he
wanted.  The more so as he was stroking his denim crotch as he spoke.  I
could see the bulge, and even guess at the shape of his cock under the
faded blue cloth.

   'Behind the trolley there, Mr randy Spad.  Hey!  Dazza, whistle if
anyone comes.'

   'OK.  Have fun!'

   I followed him the ten or so yards to the laden trolley.  I could not
help looking at his arse, small and hard under his tight, faded jeans,
those broad shoulders stretching the t-shirt, and the rat-tailed golden
hair to his shoulders.  Typical builder, his jeans had slipped to his hips
and I could admire the bronzed arse crease, promising delights below the
waistline!  He looked like a Greek God, and my cock was responding,
twitching with a life of its own.  He did not turn to face me till we were
behind the trolley, and his grin was beautiful.

   'Come here, Kevin.'

   I took one step towards him and he grabbed me round my waist, lifting me
till my head was level with his.  And he kissed me, my first lover's kiss.
Holding me hard against his chest, he kissed me, properly, his tongue in my
mouth.  Then with a laugh he lifted me onto the top of the grey mail-bags.
He fumbled with my belt, opened the buckle, and unzipped me.  I lifted my
arse, and my shorts were first round my ankles, then on the concrete
platform.  I felt his hands, one gripping each thigh, and his mouth and
nose nuzzling my crotch, hard, but still decently covered by white
little-boy underpants.  He was gently biting my cock through the cotton.  I
lifted my arse again and he pulled them down to join my shorts on the
ground.  Now one hand behind me feeling the top of my arsecrack, the other
cradling my still-hairless balls, I felt his tongue on the front of my
little-boy cock.  It was delicious, but even better still was the tip of
his tongue tickling my balls.

   I'll never forget the sensation when he took my knob between his lips
and let my full length (scarcely more than four inches) slip into his mouth
till his nose touched my belly and his lips rested on my little patch of
fine black hair.  I held his head between my palms, and felt his tongue
fluttering up and down my cock, deep in his mouth, while he sucked me.  It
was like nothing I had ever experienced before.  How much better than my
own hand, even helped by silken knickers!  I found I was moving my hips,
shagging his eager mouth.  Then the spring uncoiled, and I found myself
coming, spurting my thin cum into his mouth.  You could see and feel he
liked that!  As I had half an hour before, he swallowed without spitting,
even licking his lips.

   'Me now!'

   He lifted me easily down and I knelt before him on the dry, hot concrete
as he leaned back on the soft grey sacks.  I promised myself to do even
better this, my second, time.  The guy was worth it!  I undid the large
brass buckle on his leather belt, and the button at the top of his jeans. I
pressed my face against the bulge of his cock.  His jeans smelled of male
but not of urine this time.  I couldn't wait, but made myself, mouthing his
cock through the thick fabric.  Then slowly, enjoying the moment, I slid
the zip down.  He was naked under his jeans...  johns looking for outdoor
sex often are!  His cock popped out into my face, touching my nose,
springy, young, and virile.  There was a drop of precum in the eye.  Like
me he was cut : a slender, very long cock, lighter than his tanned body,
and with a pretty pink helmet.  I thought it was the handsomest cock I had
ever seen, and treated myself to the luxury of thinking about it in my
mouth for a moment or two while I nibbled at his balls with my pursed lips.
He groaned his pleasure, and I tickled them with the tip of my tongue.  I
was amused and excited that, like mine when I lightly caressed them, the
skin shrank and crinkled as if shy.

   I couldn't wait any longer, and took his knob between my lips.  He
groaned again, and I felt his hands ruffle my hair and then grip my skull.
I allowed him to slip,slowly, oh-so-slowly down into my mouth till my nose
touched his golden pubic hair.  I fluttered my tongue against the shaft
whilke I sucked, and was rewarded by another groan of pleasure.  I parted
his buttocks with both hands, and slid the fingers of my right hand into
his crease till they were touching his anus.

   I felt his grip on my head tighten, and he withdrew his cock as far as
the knob.  But this was only in oredr to thrust it again deep inside my
mouth.  I cocncentrated on sucking whilst faster and faster he fucked my
mouth.  I knew what pleasure I got from this so I slipped the end of my
finger into his anus: there was enough sweat there now to lubricate it.  He
groaned, and his cock swelled even larger.  I knew it would not be long
now, and sucked the harder, using my tongue as well as he slid out and
thrust back.  He swore as the first spurt of cum filled my mouth.  Another
gush of silky, salty cum with each thrust, till his movements quietened,
and I pulled my finger from his arse.

   He lifted me to my feet, both of us naked from the waist down.  As he
pulled his jeans up and fastened the belt he spoke.  'You haven't done this
much, have you , Kevin?'

   'I'm sorry.  Didn't I do it right?'

   'I didn't mean that.  You look like an angel, and you suck like an
angel. No, I meant you forgot to ask me for the money.  They always ask
before, not after.'

   'It was going to be so good.  It was so good!  I forgot.'

   I was pulling my shorts up now.  He laughed.  'It's all right.  I know
the going rate.'

   The three green notes fron his back pocket were damp with the sweat of
our play together.  He lifted me off my feet and kissed me again.

   'Wait here a couple of minutes after I go.  Don't want to leave
together. Never know who's watching.'

   He was nearly at the end of the platform, and the last I ever saw of him
was that cute denim-covered arse rounding the barrier there.

  
...........................................................................
..................................

   I was there every day for a month, and normally sucked half a dozen
cocks and was sucked off three or four times each day.  The cash was
mounting up, and I was enjoying it more and more.  Customers were beginning
to return for more, so I was doing something right, I guess.

   And then I was very lucky!  Mid-August mother had her two weeks leave
from the Store and the Bar, and as usual we went to Weston-Super-Mare to
stay with her sister.  I enjoyed the sea and sand, of course, but missed my
daily cock-fest.  But it was lucky we went.  What would have happened had
we not, I dread to think.  I guess I would not be typing this happy tale!

   When we got back I was straight over to Kings Cross Station the next
morning.  The only guy at the end of our platform was little Jimmy.  He was
a train spotter, like the rest of us, but unlike most did not suck cocks
for money.  Anyway, he was far too small, grubby and ugly to have any
success at that.

   'Hi, Jimmy.  Where is everyone?'

   'Didn't you hear?  I thought you must have when you didn't turn up. 
Like the others.'

   'Hear what?'

   'The boys got raided.  The Old Bill turned up.  Two coppers and three
woman police.  Arrested four of the boys.'

   'Didn't they see them coming?'

   'Came down the tracks, not along the platform.'

   'Bastards!'

   Two months later it was in the Evening Standard and the other papers. 
The Fuzz had set up a camera with a zoom lens and filmed four lads and
seven johns through the afternoon.  I bet those films were popular viewing
at the Police Station later!  Anyway they picked up the guys one at a time
on the Station Concourse, and then gathered in the boys when they had
enough evidence.  Jimmy was taken in but released immediately as he had not
sucked or been sucked, as proven by the film.  The papers had the guys'
pictures and details, unlucky devils.  I knew three of them, and one was
the flabby guy who was my first ever.  Poor fucker!.  He was a Bank Clerk
as I had guessed, and was a churchwarden of his local Church.  Married with
kids...  and an urge to fondle boys!  Like the rest he got several years
inside.  The boys were 'Taken into care.' by the local Council.  Well,
they'd be cared for all right, get plenty of cock and arse in the care
hostel!  Dazza was not among them.

   I gave Kings Cross a miss from then on, and did my train-spotting at
Victoria, with no extra-curricular activities.

   .............................................

   But it was soon after that I lost my male virginity, took it in the arse
for the first time.  It happened like this.

   Mother had picked up a guy she fancied enough to have him back every
night for a week.  She still charged him the going rate as I heard them
arguing about it several times.  Five pounds for the night....for a
good-looking whore she was real cheap.  And he knew a good thing when he
saw one, and also knew she was genuinely coming, and coming, and coming all
night as he sucked and fucked her.  Not your usual whore faking it.  I've
learned as a whore myself that marks will pay well 'for the real thing',
the illusion of love as well as sex.

   He was a handsome guy.  In those days it was not so common to see guys
the result of Asian or Middle-Eastern and European parentage.  Now it is:
in fact they're probably the majority in the inner suburbs.  And very
handsome they can be.  This guy was about my boyish ideal, built like a
boxer, but a Lightweight.  Strong, broad shouldered, tiny-arsed, muscled,
and a lovely honey-coloured skin.  And a cock to die for, long, slender,
and very, very virile.  I kid you not!  When he was hard, which he mostly
was, his knob actually touched his navel he was so erect.  If I close my
eyes I can still visualise that tall, slim weapon with its golden shaft and
straining, dripping knob.  It looked to me as if the energy in his cock was
pulling his golden balls upwards and tighter.  All that week I had watched
him strip, watched his cock rise, and watched him and mother suck and fuck.


   This special night for me I was ready when they came in at ten-ish. 
Mother was certainly drunk, laughing and talking excited, fumbling with the
key, and stumbling into the room.  He kicked the door shut behind him, and
they fell onto her bed, opposite the door, in a flurry of arms, legs, and
uproarious laughter.  I opened my bedroom door a crack, and peeped through,
naked, little cock hard, and a pair of my Mother's soft satin panties round
it, to wank with and come into when the time was right.  I watched while
Mother knelt over him and stripped him naked.  I envied her as she caressed
his strong chest and kissed his nipples.  Then his shoes,socks, trousers
and underpants.  As usual he was hard, a lovely, long, springy cock, much
darker honey-brown than his light-tanned body, and with a wonderful purple
head.  I thought it was the handsomest, sexiest thing I had ever seen (and
I had seen and sucked a fair few cocks by then, although still only
twelve). He had his back to me, and I could enjoy the triangular shape of
his back as he started to undress her.  I was stroking my shaft in ecstacy
at the live-sex scene being acted out before me, imagining myself as the
lucky recipient of his caresses and kisses.  He had her down to her bra and
panties when either I made a noise or he noticed my door ajar.

   'Don't go away!' he said to her and was across to my door in a flash. 
'Look what we have here, sweetie!  Your little bastard watching you.'

   He picked me up, carried me across the room, and threw me onto the bed,
part on top of my Mother.

   'And look.  He's wanking into your knickers.  How about that?  Well,
little Kevin if you want to get into her knickers why not the real thing?'
He grabbed my wrist and, pulling the waistband of her panties open with his
free hand, pushed my hand down over her belly towards her cunt.  I could
see my hand through the blue nylon and black lace.  He clamped it in place
with his free hand, and my finger slipped into the crack between her lips.
It was wet, slimy, and, I fear, disgusting to me.  How could my mother be
like this, a bitch on heat?  How could he suck on that place?  And worse,
my Mother was finding the whole thing funny, giggling, laughing, and
wriggling so her clitoris rubbed against my unwilling fingers.  Her hand
now closed over mine, holding it in place over the crotch of her knickers.
I managed to pull my hand free, and wiped it on the bedsheet.

   'Why not feel her tits, too.  I expect that's what you've been peeping
at, isn't it?' He took my hand again and pressed it to her breast.  I could
feel the nipple hard under my palm.  In fact I've often quite admired
women's tits, if they are hard and shapely.  After all, many handsome men
have bodies not dissimilar there, especially if they are into
body-building. I kept my hand over the lace and satin of her bra, at least
for a moment or two.  And an erect nipple has always turned me on.

   'Well, it isn't, if you want to know...  Not my Mother.'

   'Don't be too hard on the boy, Nassar.  After all it's only natural.  I
bet you were a randy little sod at twelve!'

   'Not for my own mother, the dirty little bastard!'

   'I said before it wasn't my Mother I was watching.  It was you.  And
this!' I touched his cock lightly.  As usual it was beautifully hard.  I
dared not leave my hand there, but noticed he did not flinch away when my
fingers brushed the shaft.

   'Hear that, sweetie.  Your little bastard's gay!'

   'His Dad was bi.  At least I think that was his Dad.  He looks like him
so why shouldn't he take after him a bit?  And why not?  Go on, Naz.  Have
some fun with him.  I want to watch.  It'd be a turn on.'

   She rolled me off her legs, and I was now laying between the two of them
but facing him.  Much more interesting.  He did not reply to her, but I
felt his fist close round my cock.  That was my cue to reach for his, and
close my palm around it.  He pulled me towards him, and clutching each
other's cocks we kissed.  He kissed well (though I had not much experience
as yet.  Most of my marks just wanted to suck or be sucked.  It was only
later I learned the refinements of male sex).  I felt his hand wriggle
underneath me and start to caress my bottom.  I felt his finger on my anus
and knew he was interested in it.  My heart raced as I realised that this
would be IT, this would be the moment when I learned whether I really was
gay, or whether it was ' just a phase' (as the teacher who , dreadfully
embarassed probably by his own repressed desires, had explained to the
class a few weeks before.) Would I like a cock in my arse, a nice big,
adult cack?

   'You've a lovely smooth, firm arse, Kevin.' He had slipped the side of
his hand between my buttocks, turned it flat on to open them, and his
finger was pressing hard on my arsehole.  I love that, and started to rub
his cock, gently up and down.  'Do you take it in the arse, Kevin?  Like to
be butt-fucked?'

   'I never ...  But I ....'

   'You've thought about it and like the idea.  And I bet your fingers have
been up here, eh?' He had the tip if his finger in me now.  ''Pass us the
lube, sweetie.'

   I heard my Mother open the bedside table drawer.  I'd often used that
lube myself when wanking enjoying the slippery feel of thumb and forefinger
sliding up and down my cock.  And, of course, helping my own index finger
slip into my arse at the moment of orgasm.

   'Now!' He spread some lube in my crack, and his finger was into me.  I
pulled myself closer, so we were touching chest, belly and legs, our hands
crushed between us still holding cocks.  He kissed me and was finger
fucking me at the same time.  It felt better than my own finger up there,
and he knew, as I did, the best place to rub.

   'Please, Naz.  It'll be my first time.'

   'A pretty little virgin boy-arse.  Now that's nice.' He broke our
embrace and arranged me with a pillow under my belly, one leg bent
sideways, the other straight.  Mother was propped against the pillows now,
and I could see her fingers under the see-thru blue nylon working away at
her clit.  Nothing new in that for me!  So I kept my eyes on him as he
knelt between my legs, straining myself to look over my shoulder.  I
guessed he was greasing his cock, and then heard him throw the
lube-dispenser from the bed to the floor.  I felt his knob in my crease,
and then pushing against me, about half an inch too high.  I reached down
behind me and placed his knob directly against my anus.  It felt lovely as
he pressed against it without penetrating.  It always does!  Then he shoved
his knob in.

   And that DID hurt ; I screamed, but he gave not an inch, holding me down
with a hand on each of my shoulders, and his knob in my rectum.

   'Hey, careful Naz.  Don't ruin him!' Mother was still playing with her
clit.

   'I am, sweetie.  It'll be ok soon.  Always is!'

   'And what do you know about butt-fucking, Naz.'

   'You'd be surprised, sweetie.  Lot you don't know about Middle Eastern
families, and especially Tunisian.  Family that lays together stays
together, and they keep the boys well away from the girls.'

   While he was exchanging these pleasantries with my mother he had
gradually forced further and further up me till he was completely in, his
thighs touching my buttocks.  It still hurt, but more a dull ache than a
piercing pain.  I felt his lips against the nape of my neck, and he was
stroking me with both hands, as one calms a frightened animal.  He pulled
slowly out as far as his knob, and that felt almost good as it slipped out.
Then in again, and no pain this time.  I was relaxing, and he must have
felt that.

   'Better now, Kevin?'

   'Much.  I think I'm going to like this.'

   Mother was coming.  I could see her fingers flying up and down her slit,
and she was panting and grunting.  Odd she should find the sight of her
only son being buggered so very exciting!  Takes all sorts, I suppose.

   I buried my face in the pillow as he slowly withdrew, and then used his
weight to force in again.  I pushed my arse up towards him and at once his
cock started hitting the spot.  I always found it when finger fucking
myself, and that strange titillation was as usual communicating itself to
my cock, crushed against the mattress under the weight of our two bodies.
However, with his powerful thrusts, the weight of his muscular body
drinving him into me, and, of course, his cock much longer and broader than
my boyish finger, the pleasure was more intense, drowning any residual
pain. He was whispering softly endearments and encouragement, his tongue
even inside my ear at times, and still that cock forced in and out of my
now-receptive anus.

   Mother moved over so her body was touching his, and I knew she was
stroking his arse as he fucked me.  He fucked all the faster and harder for
that, and I could feel my own orgasm rising in my balls and deep in my
arse. I cried out.  "I'm coming.  I'm going to come." He had stopped
whispering and was sort of grunting, and I knew he was close.  I had seen
and heard enough guys come to know he was close as well.  Usually I could
control my orgasm, but this was just too strong, and I spurted into the
pillow beneath me.  As I panted I felt his rhythm change, sharper thrusts,
shorter and more rapid, then slipping even easier as his cum filled my
rectum, oiling my anus.  He collapsed on top of me, and I felt for the
first time the inert weight of a satisfied guy, laying on top of me, cock
throbbing deep inside me.  They are moments to treasure even now after
thousands of fucks.  My arse contracted involuntarily, and expelled his now
half-hard cock.  He rolled off me.

   'Jesus!  That was good.' But it was to my mother he turned, to kiss and
cuddle her.

   'Go to bed now, Kevin.'

   'Yes mother.'

  
...........................................................................
...........................

   He had me again the next morning, on my own bed, telling me not to cry
out and wake my mother.  We did it face to face that second time, my legs
over his shoulders, his mouth against mine as he came.  When he left me to
wake up mother I had not come and had to to wank, using mental images of
his lean, hard body and that cock I had kissed but was yet to suck.

   Nassar, Naz, lasted three more nights with mother before she tired of
him, and each night and morning he fucked me before having my mother.

   The Friday night I was awake waiting for them, and I heard them, drunk,
on the staircase, and her key in the lock.  I stood at my door, naked, my
little cock hard in anticipation.  I had even lubed my arse ready for him.
But it was not Naz.  It was a sailor!

   In those days you often saw sailors on leave in London, and in uniform.
They don't do it now, it seems, which is a pity as it is such a sexy
uniform.  Perhaps that's why they are told not to wear it when on leave? 
Gets them into trouble perhaps, especially the lean, fit young ones?  This
new guy was quite short and stocky, but muscular, and you could see from
his black stubbled chin and huge hairy hands that his muscular body would
be covered in hair.  I stood there naked and the two of them looked at me.

   'Go to bed, Kevin,'

   'Yes, mother.'

   Of course I watched them fuck, watched his hairy, powerful buttocks rise
and fall as he shoved his short, broad cock into her shaved cunt.  It did
not take them long, her a second or two less than him.

   They lay smoking a shared cigarette, propped against the bedhead.  She
was naked, and I remember thinking I was glad her tits were small and firm.
I hate big tits, which I find still to this day very intimidating in a
woman, even if she is fully-dressed.  I'm no longer emarrassed and tongue
tied, but still feel uncomfortable in their presence.  I saw her whisper in
his ear, her hand moving to his cock, soft now in its mass of black hair.
He nodded.

   'You awake, Kevin?'

   'Yes, mother.'

   'Come here, then.'

   I stood naked by the bed, my cock hard from watching them, and I had
still not come.  She had interrupted my wank.

   'There, Smiler, that's got to be worth a fiver to a randy sailor on
leave.  You don't get it as young as this on board ship.'

   'I guess it is, Gloria.' He reached over the bed so his fingers could
touch my arse, stroking it.  I shivered partly because his fingers felt so
tingly srtroking me, partly in anticipation of that broad, stubby cock.

   'Cash first, sailor.  Put it under the teapot there.'

   He got up and pulled a roll of notes from his back pocket, in among the
heap of clothes on the carpet.  I watched his thick thighs and strong
buttocks as he walked over to the mantlepiece and lifted the teapot to put
five green notes under it.  As he walked back, my eyes were rivetted by
that shrunken, tiny cock.  I was still standing by the bed when he sat on
the edge of it.  As I half expected my mother's hand moved down to her
crotch when he put his arms around me clutching my buttocks one cheek in
each palm, and pulling me towards him.  I felt the harsh stubble of his
chin on my belly, and then the feel of his tongue licking and nibbling at
my still-hairless balls.  I heard him murmur, though whether to me, himself
or even my mother I did not know.  'So smooth, smooth as silk, so firm,
lovely, lovely, lovely boy....' Then.  of course, his lips on my knob, his
mouth round it, and that long, slow swallow till the whole of my few inches
was in his mouth.  I was able to look down at his cock.  It was hard now,
not much longer than mine.  Five inches perhaps to my four and a half.  But
it was incredibly broad, one of the fattest, strongest, widest cocks I ever
saw.  And it was only the second that my young arse had been expected to
admit!  I knew I would have no choice.  Mother had taken his money and sold
me to him.  My excitement was high, but so was my dread of that huge wedge.

   He sucked me for only a minute or two, all the while kneading and
handling my buttocks.  That was what he wanted, my young bottom.  I
wondered for a second how many boy-arses he had enjoyed.  Did they still
have boy sailors in the navy?  My mind raced away for a moment, imagining
what it would be like to be a young lad in a ship full of sex-starved
sailors!

   He stood up and pushed me to my knees.  Now my mouth would be stretched
by his prick.  I could smell and taste my mother on him still, but that
soon passed as I sucked, tickling his balls with my fingers.  He was
groaning, and I could taste precum now.

   He turned me round so I was kneeling beside the bed.  A strong hand
pushed me down till my face was buried in the mattress.  I was aware of my
mother rubbing and pulling at her clit and cunt lips.  Then he was kneeling
behind me.  Mother passed him the lube dispenser, and I heard the squelch
as he pressed some into my crease, another squelch as he lubricated his
cock.  Then his finger working the grease into my anus.

   'Be careful with him, Smiler.  He's only twelve and hasn't been fucked
much.'

   Reply there was none, only that pleasant pressure of knob against my
anus.  Then the full weight of his body behind his first push, and the knob
was in.  I winced with the momentary pain, but knew now it would pass.  I
also knew I could accept his cock, and if I could take that one I could
take any cock.  At that moment a whole new world opened up to me.  I stuck
my arse out towards him as he slowly gained inch after inch, pushing
steadily up me, opening my anal muscle for me.  Then he was fully in, and I
felt the fur of his thighs against my skin.

   'Jeez.  That's bloody lovely.  Tight and firm.  He was stroking my arse
with one hand, and reached under me with the other.  I felt him grasp my
cock, and as he started to fuck me, I felt him tossing me off.  It was
good, and because he had just fucked Mother, he took his time.  I came
before him, covering his hand with my thin, boyish cum.  (By the way I
learned early that for me a long cock was better than a fat one!  But
whores can't really be chosers as I always say).  He removed his hand and
licked it.  That was the moment, and I knew he was coming in me.  Firm,
white arse, young, muscular, tanned back, tight anus, and the taste of
young cum, all took him over the edge and he slammed into me, pumping his
cum deep inside.

   He pulled out almost immediately, sat on the bed, and made me lick him
clean.  Cum dripped from my anus down the inside of my thighs.  I picked
mother's knickers from the floor, and wiped myself.  He laughed, and rolled
over onto the bed.  I walked over to the mantlepiece, lifted the teapot,
and picked up the five pounds.

   'What the fuck do you think you're doing?' My mother was real angry. 
Drunk, and angry.

   'Taking my wages mother.'

   'Put the bloody stuff back.' She tried to get up, but fell back on the
springy mattress.

   'At least give him half of it, Gloria.  He's fuckin earned it.' He
laughed.  'Fuckin earned it, fucking.  And you've had your pay for tonight.
You take half of it, son.  And hide it well or this tart will nick it from
you!'

   I took three and left two.

  
...........................................................................
.................................

   That was how it was all through that Autumn.  When mother brought a mark
home, which was most nights, she would fuck him, and then show him her
pretty and willing little son.  About one in three would take up her offer,
and I would get to keep half the rent.  Occasionally a john would get angry
about the offer, and then mother would treat it all as a big, drunken joke,
just testing out his masculinity.

   It would be the next Spring, or at least just after Christmas, that my
life moved on again.  In which case I was still twelve, but about to be
thirteen.  I was skilled now at sucking and had an educated, talented
bottom!  I was still into train-spotting, and the other boys at Victoria
said that since I would not go to Kings Cross for some reason, I should try
Paddington Station.  They had some fantastic engines on the West Coast
Mainline, and pulling the Cornishman.

   It was one of those cold, crisp days, and I had my old duffle coat and
lots of gear, scarfs, gloves and so on.  I spent a happy two hours
recording train numbers and writing up the various steam and diesel
engines, but then it was getting cold, and a bit dark, though still really
only mid--afternoon.  I decided to catch the bus home, but needed a piss on
the way.  The toliets at Paddington Staion are bleak and characterless
nowadays, but they still, then, had a Victorian or perhaps Edwardian
splendour.  Down-at-heel and dirty, of course, but full of nineteenth
century brown and orange tiles, greening brasswork, and huge, tall
porcelain urinals, nearly as tall as that twelve-year-old boy.  The toilets
were were nearly empty on a Sunday afternoon.

   To my surprise and delight, I realised that Dazza, from Kings Cross in
the summer, was standing in front of one of the urinals.  I walked over,
unzipped and stood beside him.  'Hi Dazza .  Long time no see.'

   'I'll be buggered.  It's Kevin the Train.  I was worried you'd been
caught in the raid.'

   'I was lucky.'

   'Me too.  I hang out here now as the marks are scared off the platforms.
Can't blame 'em after what happened, eh?  It's just as good, and warmer
than the platform.' I looked over the edge of the urinal and could see he
was slowly, gently wanking a hard cock.  It looked bigger than mine.  I was
interested, of course, but have never really been into young boys.  Even
now, in middle age, I'd rather have a fit, well-set-up male in his twenties
and thirties than a teenager, however pretty!  But then, I've always been a
bottom, and only a top if the john insists, or as a favour to a special
friend.

   'What here?'

   'In one of the cubicles.  The far end one's best.  Look, Kevin, you
stand over by the sinks and watch in the mirror.  You'll get the idea.'

   I stood in the gloom, pretending to wash my hands, watching Kevin at the
far end of the row of urinals.  A guy walked in, looked round, saw there
was only Dazza and me, another rent boy he assumed, and went over to stand
beside Dazza.  I could see him looking over and down at that pretty cock.
They exchanged a few words, and I could guess what was said!  The guy
walked over to the end cubicle, went in, and a second later Dazza joined
him, shutting the door behind them.  I timed them on my Timex watch.  Three
and a half minutes, and the door opened again, and the mark walked quickly
out.  Another few seconds and a smiling Dazza emerged, licking his lips!

   'See, Kevin, money for old-rope!  Sucked him off, and didn't come
myself. Come on, I'll buy us something warm.  You look frozen.'

   We sat in the cafe, and Dazza told me that he charged "two and four"
here, just as I mostly had at Kings Cross.  He only used to get "one and
two" there, but as he pointed out there was less competition here.

   'How much for being fucked in the arse?'

   'You do that?  Well, Kevin, you'd get rich here.  That's worth a tenner
with a good-looking teen boy.  I don't fancy it myself.  They keep asking.'

   'I love it.  Can't get enough.'

   'We should work together.  One at the stalls waiting, one outside
keeping watch.  Then vice versa.'

   'Count me in, Dazza.  This tea tastes like piss!'

   ''Crap food here too.  But it's warm and wet I guess.'

   For the next two years I would cut school most afternoons and sell my
arsehole and mouth at Paddington.  We worked well as a team, Dazza and me.
I never had Dazza, would you believe it?  Actually, I don't think Dazza was
really gay at all, just greedy for cash and an easy life, and as you know
boys turn me on less than men.  Me, well I certainly was gay, and loved to
bend over the mahogany toilet seat, baring my arse as an altar for each new
male worshipper.  Most afternoons I would have three or four fucks. 
Sometimes even more.  The best times were four in the afternoon till six,
catching the married commuters with their memories of happy school days and
their nostalgia for clean-cut, smooth, boyish arses.  You can imagine them
later fucking their loyal wives, while fantasising it is that pretty,
dark-haired boy with his tight little arse and hairless balls.  Several
would seek me out at least onece a week.  I got the occasional "dose", had
the clap twice, but nothing a couple of jabs at the clinic did not clear up
quickly.  Those were happy days, before aids, when we could all bare-back
with little risk.  (I was lucky.  I never got aids in those months when it
was prevalent and we did not know.) And I had several thousand pounds
hoarded away in my Post Office Savings Book.  But, unlike Dazza, I was into
it for the sex more than the money.  But I earned much more than him with
my willing arse.

   And I still got the occasional few quid from Mother's clients.

  
...........................................................................
........................

   I was just fifteen when Gulliver entered my life, Sir Gulliver Stone. 
(Names changed to protect the memory of a lovely dirty-old-man!) We got
good at sensing money in our customers, Dazza and I.  And this guy just
exuded the smell of real cash.  Hand-made shoes, hand-stitched suit,
astrakhan overcoat opened down the front, and immaculate grooming, hair
wavy and grey but not one strand out of place, scrubbed pink complexion,
and manicured nails.  Oh yes, and a body that showed despite his forty or
fifty years, he worked out regularly.  I guessed he was an officer in one
of the really good Guards Regiments.  We had them from time to time and it
was easy to spot the type.I had my cock out, hard and ready, stroking it
gently as I stood in the far-end urinal.  He stood beside me without
bothering to unzip.  No need to pretend here!.  'You bottom, boy?'

   'Yes, sir.  Ten pounds.'

   'Later, perhaps.  First come and have a cuppa with me.  Oh, Here's your
ten pounds,' The wallet was expensive looking too.  As were the bulging
contents!

   We did not go to the Station Buffet, with its dirty tables, weak coffee,
and stale sandwiches.  He took me into the big hotel a few paces down the
busy street, and we sat in their tea-rooms after a flunky had taken his
expensive coat and my cheap one (I was not into spending money on
clothes!). I could see an ironic, even jealous look in the waiter's eye as
we ordered.  Cream buns and tea for me.  Just a black coffee for him.

   'Hard life, selling sex?'

   'I like it, Sir.  I mean I like the sex.'

   'Yes.  I think I would too..'

   His proposal was direct and simple.  I was to go home with him now, and
we would have sex.  If it seemed good for both of us I would move in with
him for at least a year, perhaps two years, but no more than that.He worked
out from what I told him that I was earning about £200 a week with my arse
and mouth, and offered £300.  It was then I realised he was seriously rich,
or else a 'fucking con-artist.' On balance I guessed he was in fact genuine
and agreed.  Apparently he would want to lend me to his friends from time
to time, but that would always bring a gift or a tip on top of the weekly
wages.  That made it even more attractive.

   I admired the style with which he sent the cloakroom attendant to get us
a taxi.  It was only a half-mile drive, and I again saw that ironic,
half-jealous look in the cabbie's eyes.  Gulliver did not touch me while
sitting beside me in the cab.  Style again!

   I assumed when the cab drew up in front of a fine town-house, that his
would be an appartment : many such houses have been split into four flats,
one on each floor.  But no!  The whole place was his!

   And the door was opened by a Butler...  in full butler-rig!  Impressed?
You bet I was.  I was introduced as 'young Mr Kevin, who will be living
here with me.' Intimidated?  Well, to be honest I was a bit, but told
myself that really this was just another john who wanted a pretty boy-arse
to fuck.

   'Very good, sir.' No ironic look here!

   'Oh, and Parkin, please run a bath for us.'

   'Very good, sir.'

   At Sir Gulliver's suggestion I left a message on Mother's answerphone
that I would be staying with a friend that night.  And probably the next
too.

   ......................................................

   It seems commonplace now, but I remember how astounding it was to see
Parkin helping Sir Gulliver out of his suit jacket and waistcoat, and even
his trousers.  It was even more astonishing when it was clear he was
expecting to take my jacket and trousers too.

   'That will be all for this evening, thankyou Parkin.'

   'Very good, sir.'

   As he finished stripping it was clear my first impression had been
correct.  He was lean and muscular: the sort of frame that would hurt if
you bumped into it in the street, or on the football field.  And the tan
was all-over.  He was not really vey hairy, and his chest hairs had a few
grey ones in among the black.  His pubic hair was still glossy black.  He
was cut, and his cock hung very gracefully I thought.  All in all, I had
fallen on my feet here.  Rich, civilised, gay and handsome.  I was stripped
seconds before him, and deliberately turned side-on to show him my little
cock, and cute arse.  (I knew it was cute as I had been told by many a
man.) He led the way into the bathroom.

   Another surprise.  We have all seen round baths for two or more people.
Indeed, I have one such in my South London house now.  But this is the only
"double bath" on the double bed principle I have ever come across.  About
the size and shape of a double bed, I thought it the most luxurious and
sensual thing I had ever seen.

   'Surprising?  Yes, I expect it is.  Sometime we must make love in it,
but not this first time, I think.'

   I got in the bath first.  It was almost too hot after the cold of the
January day, but it soon felt ok, and he was laying beside me.  I expected
him to make a grab for me, but he did not.  We just lay silent for about
five minutes, and then he reached for the soap.  I watched as he stood in
the hot water and soaped himself.  Most men would have had me soap their
arse, balls and cock, but he was content to let me watch.  I was getting
hard.  Then he passed me the soap, and I repeated the exercise, being
careful to get into all the little secret corners.  I wanted so much for
him to enjoy this first time with me.  And again he made no attempt to grab
me under the pretence of soaping me down.  But he was hard as well now.

   'I like to finish with a shower.'

   There were two shower heads side by side , marble to stand on, and a
wide gulley taking the water to a grid.  One dial controlled both showers
and we stood side-by-side letting the needle sharp hot water wash off the
soap.  He passed me the shampoo and I imitated him, washing my hair.  We
stood side-by-side, inches apart but still not touching, both cocks hard,
his twice mine in breadth and half as long again as mine.  I kept looking
at his hard, handsome body and looking forward to feeling his weight on me
as I surrendered to his maleness.  Then pain!  No, not that....but he
without warning turned the dial and the shower ran icy-cold.  He grabbed my
arm as I was about to jump from the shower, the first time he had touched
me, and held me there while he slowly counted to ten.  Two limp cocks now!
I did not feel so bad about losing my erection (which seldom happened at
that age), when I saw his shrivelled as well.  I thought how nice it would
be to take it in my mouth and feel it grow.

   'Cold water is painful for a moment.  You'll appreciate it in a minute
or two, Kevin my boy.'

   And indeed I did.  As the warmth crept back I felt invigorated,
energetic, ready for anything, and especially for THAT!  We used the
electric blower to dry each other's hair, enfolded in our thick, soft
towelling bath robes.

   Now for another new thing.  In his bedroom he took the robe off and
stood naked for me.  'I always use this after a bath, Kevin: you should
start now, as a teen, and your skin will stay young and supple long after
it should have dried and withered.' I dropped my robe to the floor as well.
It struck me that we must represent two male ideals.  Him the mature adult,
me the pretty teen boy.  I knew about ancient Greece, and it crossed my
mind that this scene must have played out so often in those far-happier
days.  I told him about my thoughts, and he smiled his agreement.  He had
me massage his whole body with the white cream, starting with his neck,
shoulders, back and chest, but then his calves and thighs, and finally his
hips, buttocks, and the crease of his arse and the hollows of his groin.  I
loved feeling the strength of muscle, firm under a silky skin.  You must
remember that although I had enjoyed many different sexual partners,
dozens, even hundreds of male cocks in my mouth or arse over the past two
years, I had never really had the chance to fondle, caress, really enjoy a
male body.  All they wanted was to spill their jiz in my mouth or arse, and
then go their ways as fast as possible.  This guy was the first to treat me
as a lover rather than a whore.

   I was hard.  And so was he.

   Now it was my turn...  his?  He had me lay on the bed on my belly. 
Stupidly I was worried for a moment that the body-cream would mark the silk
sheets.  Why should I worry; clearly he did not.  I lay there, my cock
pressed against the soft and silky mattress, while he massaged my back and
shoulders.  Then my thighs and calves running his palms up and down till my
skin absorbed the balm.  And the, of course my arse.  This was the first
time he had touched me sexually in the two hours since we met, and I'm sure
I groaned my pleasure as he spread the cream on my buttocks and rubbed it
in with a circular motion of both hands.  Now my cheeks were spread, and I
felt his fingers in my crack, playing lightly over my anus.

   'You are just delightful, Kevin.  So firm, such silky skin, such a
pretty little rose here...' His finger tapped on my anus.It was almost too
much to bear.  I was sure my precum must be leaking all over the sheets. 
'Turn over, now.  Ah!  Yes!  Now that really is gallant.' He leaned over me
and gave my straining cock the very lightest of kisses, right on the eye,
which was, as it were, weeping with joy.  But he meant it about the cream.
He intended me to keep my boyish bloom, and indeed my skin still has that
eleasticity of youth even after all these years due to his advice.  So I
lay there, cock twitching, admiring his long, slender tool while he
massaged and caressed my chest and neck, my nipples, my belly and the front
of my legs.

   'There.  That's done.  Now we'll play.  Kiss me, boy.'

   The sensuality of that embrace was almost more than I could bear.  I
felt his cock hard against mine, almost like two lovers themselves., our
embrace and the embrace of our cocks.  His lips felt very full and wet as
we kissed, and .of course, he slipped his tongue into my mouth.  I
reciprocated, my tongue fighting his.  He held me so tight, one legs over
me as we kissed, but his hands were all over my body, stroking, caressing,
fondling.  I explored his, feeling the muscles under that warm skin.

   He rolled me over on my back and I felt his weight on me.  I moved so
his cock rested in the crease between my buttocks, there just under my
balls.  I was still slippery there from his massage, but I moistened my
fingers and reached between us, adding that to the oil in my arsehole.  His
cock was still pushing at me an inch or so too high, so I grasped it.  Like
his body, in miniature, it was silky and warm, but with the strength of
steel beneath that softness.  I placed the knob over my hole and knew again
that exciting feeling of pressure as his weight bore down on me, all his
power concentated on that one, willing spot.  The usual momentary
discomfort as his knob penetrated and my anus closed around his shaft, and
then the feeling of fullness, completeness as his shaft slid deeper and
deeper till our bodies touched again.  I raised my legs, bending and
clasping them round his waist, and felt him slip even deeper as my arsehole
was raised for him.

   I buried my face in the crook between his neck and his shoulders,
kissing him there with open lips as his cock withdrew, only to slide in
again.  He was whispering, part to himself and part to me, what a lovely
boy I was, how smooth my skin, how tight my arsehole, how good the fuck
was. He was fucking me with long, slow strokes, and I knew that, despite
the long and relaxed build up of foreplay this was going to be a long,
satisfying fuck.  Not like those hurried sessions bent over a toilet bowl
at Paddington, or being rammed by one of my mother's drunken lovers.  I was
completely relaxed, enjoying the surrender of my boy's body to a powerful
man, my arse accepting him as he slipped in and out.  Only my little cock
was tense.  With our bodies touching, my legs round his waist, I could not
reach it to wank it as he fucked me, but did not need to.  He was finding
my spot with each thrust, and I could feel the pleasure mounting in my
cock: I knew I would be weeping precum in streams.

   The long, slow sweeps of his cock speeded up, becoming shorter, stabbing
motions.  Sometimes his cock would slip right out of me, and I would feel
again the pleasure of his knob forcing into my anus.  I knew by now it
would be gaping wide to welcome him each time.  He managed to get his lips
over mine again, and as we kissed I knew he was close to coming.  This was
like no fuck I had known.  I felt almost part of him, surrendered to a man
I was beginning to feel somewthing very like love for.  I was wriggling
beneath him, trying to raise my hips to meet every down-thrust.  And then I
was coming.  He must have felt my passion as I came, my anus contracting on
his cock with each little spurt of cum.  And he came too.  I could feel the
warm slipperiness as his cock moved even more freely with the lubrication
of his man-cum, and imagined I could feel the spurt with each stabbing
thrust.

   We lay silent, clasping each other, while his cock twitched inside me,
and my anus pulsed as well.  He kissed me again, and told me what a lovely
boy I was, and how lucky he had been to find me.  I told him I hadf never
before felt pleasure like he had given me, and what a handsome man he was,
what a lovely body and beautiful cock, and what a vigorous fucker.  He
rolled off me, and my anus expelled his now half-hard prick.

   We slept together that first night.  Usually thereafter we had separate
rooms for sleeping, but that first night we slept in each other's arms, his
leg pleasantly heavy over mine.  Lovers!

   .............................................................

   The next day was a whirlwind.  It started off very well with Gulliver
sucking me off.  In fact he was in mid-flow as it were, my cock completely
in his mouth and his hands over my arse , when the maid brought our morning
coffee in.  She was completely unphased by the sex going on and just put
the tray down, opened the curtains to let the morning sun in, and left as
silently as she had arrived.  I thought she looked quite pretty for a girl,
with long, long legs and pert breasts pushed up by some sort of corset,
part of her "French-maid's" uniform.  She was a black girl.  I was not very
interested, though I enjoyed the flash of her scarlet and black panties as
she opened the curtains.  Sir Gulliver Just continued to suck and caress,
till I came.  He swallowed it all, not that there would have been very
much, I guess.

   I was more interested when, after he had poured two cups of coffee, he
said,'"That was Mariah, with an aitch on the end.  She lives with Parkin in
the basement flat, and looks after our kitchen.  Looks after Parkin, too,
the dog!  Oh, and she's got a lovely black cock with a huge plum-purple
knob.  Her best feature really.'

   'Really, a cock?  But she's so convincing.'

   'Yes, Kevin.  Really a cock.  And, yes, she could earn a fortune in the
clubs she's so good.  But she's in love with the butler, so that's that.'

   Later I also met Pablo and Pedro, who lived in the flat up in the roof.
Pablo was hoovering a carpet and Pedro was dusting.  They were much more
interesting to me than Mariah.  Lovely golden Mediterranean skin, handsome
with their identical pencil moustaches, and broad shoulders.  They could
have been brothers, but they were, in fact, lovers.

   Sir Gulliver said I need some more, and better clothes.  The casual wear
we found was expensive, but easy to buy.  But he also wanted me to have a
good lightweight suit, and a dinner jacket (my American friends call it a'
tuxedo', which always sounds to me like some small town in New Mexico, and
my French friends a 'smoking', which reminds me of a hot cock).  This was
more complicated and involved having measurements taken.  The establishment
was very posh.  All respectful-respectable, with a sort of hush about it.
But that did not stop the silver haired gent who was the tailor making sure
he had a good feel of my cock and arse as he took the inside-leg
measurements.

   Sir Gulliver asked me always to call him "Uncle" or "Uncle Gulliver", so
as not to arouse suspicion that I was in fact his pretty little bum-boy. 
(His words, not mine.  He could be lovely and coarse-spoken if he wanted
to.)

   That evening he fucked me bended over the back of an armchair, in his
dining room after dinner.  I was naked and he had his trousers round his
ankles when Mariah came in to clear the table.  She took no obvious notice
of us, and silently went about her work.  But I was able to watch her
carefully while Uncle Gulliver shoved his cock in and out, grunting and
feeling my buttocks.  I could see now there was a bulge in the front of her
black silk mini-skirt.  She had a hard on, and I was convinced it was my
arse that had done it!  I caught her eye for a second and she smiled at me.
I smiled back, and she winked.  I promised myself I would see that"huge
black dick" sometime, and if it was all it was claimed for it then have it
in my arse for a few minutes of pleasure.  Also, in all my whoring, I had
never sucked a black dick.

   That night I slept alone in my own room.  But Uncle Gulliver was there
in the morning, wanting a proper sixty-nine this time.

  
...........................................................................
............................

   He wanted to make sure my mother would not make any trouble for us, so I
took him round to our grotty flat at about eleven.  It was Sunday and
Mother would be there, either alone or with a guy from the night before. 
As luck would have it she had already got rid of a guy, though the flat was
in a real shambles, with underwear and 'club-clothes' strewn about, and a
bed that looked as if ten marines had been fucking in it.  She was in a a
tight satin negligee, and was clutching her (probably) first whisky of the
day.  She looked what she was, a real slut.  I knew some guys find that
sexy.  Not me!  and I guess, not Uncle Gulliver either.

   I had to admire his no-nonsense approach.  It went something like
this...

   'Miss Higgins, Kevin has told me how you sell him to your customers
several times a week.  Well, I hope you have been getting plenty of cash
for him because, I assure you Miss Higgins, your boy is something special.
I've had his arse, which is delightful, and his mouth, twice in fact, And
enjoyed his pretty little boy cock in my mouth too.  Yes, Miss Higgins.  He
is special, so special in fact I want to take him off your hands
completely.'

   'I don't know about that, sir.' A low-cunning look, one I knew very
well, replaced the momentary fear in her eyes.  She really was so easy to
read, even for a twelve year old.

   'I do, Miss Higgins.  It's just a matter of how much, really, isn't it?
Two hundred?'

   'Have to be more than that, sir.'

   I was amused and impressed by the way he had her calling him sir.... 
natural superiority I guess.  I certainly never heard her call any other
man sir!

   'Well?'

   'Five hundred?' She was hesitant.

   He considered for a moment.  'Four fifty, then, and it's a deal.'

   'Cash?'

   'Of course.  Here.' He started to count off a roll of fifties.  There
were ten in all.

   She reached out for them and he passed the nine notes over.  'And
another fifty but I want you to do something for me.'

   'OK.' She opened her negligee, and I must say if you are into women at
all you would have liked that.  Nice tits, trim waist, shaved cunt.  But
Sir Gulliver was not!'

   'No, not that, woman.  Good Lord no.  He almost shuddered.  'No, I want
you to tell his school his father has taken him back to Ireland, so he
won't be at School any more.'

   'I'll do that, sir.  Not that they'd notice.  Right dump that school. 
Bloody shambles.'

   'Here you are then.  And remember to keep your mouth well-closed.  You
could get years in prison for whoring your own son, just as I could for
fucking him.  We both need to keep mum!'

   And that was that.  'Anything you want from your room, Kevin?' It was
nice of him to ask, but I had really grown out of train spotting.  And
there was nothing else there.

   'I'd like to give the train stuff to a couple of friends.  They'll be on
the platform at Victoria by now.  Ok to bring them round, mother?'

  
...........................................................................
....................

   I introduced Jason and Izzy to him as, "My Uncle Gulliver".  I could see
Jason had his measure as a guy who fucks boys, and he knew I had been a
whore for a bit, but Izzy was just grateful for my gifts.

   Later in the cab.  'He's good looking that Jason, in a street sort of
way.  Does he fuck?'

   'I don't think so.  but I'm sure he would suck.'

   'We may try him one day then.......'

  
...........................................................................
...........

   The next two weeks fell into something of a routine.  Uncle Gulliver
would fuck me in the evening either before or after dinner (once during!).
And he would either come to my room or get Mariah to call me to his in the
morning to suck him off.  sometimes he would suck me off, but mostly it was
his own cock he wanted to gratify.  The rest of the time was my own, as he
would go off to his office in The City.  Daytimes I would listen to records
(I had plenty of cash to buy them), read comics or go and look up some of
my old friends.  I saw Daz once and bought him a meal.  I got to know
Mariah and the two "maids" Pablo and Pedro quite well, chatted a lot to
them.  But no sex as yet!

   At the age of twelve I had a real lust for good-looking guys in uniform.
A policeman, army officer, even a railwayman could get me hard just looking
at them.  And as for a sailor.....

   That first dinner party I realised I could add dinner-jacketed males to
the list.  We were eight round the table.  Uncle Gulliver had brought me,
of course, proud as a little peacock in my new suit.  His brother, a City
Gent too, had brought a pretty lad I guessed a few years older than me. 
Then there was a University Professor of some sort who had brought one of
his students, a handsome, willowy young man.  And, for me the star of the
piece, Ralston McKenzie the UK Heavyweight boxing champion.  He had brought
another black guy with him, softer and more feminine in appearance, but
still well-built and handsome rather than pretty.  I was seated beside my
new uncle's brother, and next to the pretty lad as well.  The boxing champ
was opposite.

   We started with soup.  I'd seen enough films of this sort of thing not
to be too phased by the various cutlery and "proper" ways of eating.  I
noticed Will (the other boy present) watched the others like me to make
sure he got it right.  The conversation was mainly among the Professor, his
student and the two Brothers Stone.  The rest of us said little, Will and
me nothing.  We both knew what we were there for, and it was not for our
conversation about politics, the theatre, books etc!  I was amused that
Pablo and Pedro (who were serving the food dressed only in tiny, revealing
black satin posing pouches, both made sure that their thighs and scarcely
concealed pricks brushed my face as they served.  The grown-ups drank wine
with the main course: Will and I stuck to fizzy water.  It was odd that
these men would go through the social ritual of dinner with all its
formality of manners, dress and conversation as a preliminary to what we
all knew would be a naked, homosexual orgy.

   As the plates were cleared ready for the desert, the table-wide
conversation broke up, and I found myself talking with the tall,
distinguished brother of Uncle Gulliver sitting beside me.  He was plain
"Mr Stone" not having purchased his knighthood, I assume.

   He guessed I had not been with Sir Gulliver long.  'I was sure we had
not met before.  I could hardly have forgotten such a lovely young boy'.

   I thanked him for the compliment and made sure my eyelashes fluttered
coquettishly for him.  I told him it was just two weeks, and I was enjoying
the change.

   'Ah!  Yes!  Sir Gulliver and I have a lot in common.' I felt his hand
resting on my thigh, gripping and feeling the muscle-tone.

   'You came with Will...' Will was chatting with my new guardian.

   'Yes.  A pretty lad, but just a tad too old for me, really.  He's
sixteen, apparently.  You're much more what I like.  Sir Gulliver tells me
you're thirteen?'

   'I'm still twelve till next month.'

   His hand gripped tighter, and moved up my thigh.  I looked him straight
in the eye and flashed my most inviting smile.

   'Really?  Still twelve.  How utterly delightful.  And talented, he tells
me...'

   'He's a very nice man, and generous, so I try to please him as much as I
can.'

   'Every evening and morning, I'll wager.' I was still looking him in the
eye, bold and inviting, and felt the hand move to my groin, where my
little-boy cock was already hard.  He grasped the shaft through the layers
of clothing and I was amused to see him lick his lips, and a small bead of
sweat appear on his upper lip.  'And if I were generous, would you try to
please me.'

   'Oh, yes, Mr Stone.  And you seem very nice too.  And ever-so handsome.'
I placed my hand on his thigh, and ran it up over the smooth material till
I found his cock.  It felt gratifyingly hard and large!  'Ooh!  I say!'

   'I'll be generous then!  We can have some greatl fun together.'

   'What about Will?'

   'Oh, your guardian will enjoy him tonight for a change.  He's only a boy
from the escort agency, nothing special.  I'm not as lucky as Sir Gulliver
to have my own, my very own boy-lover to keep me young!  From time to time
I hire a young whore and have him satisfy me.  You take it in the mouth and
bottom?'

   'I love both, Mr Stone.'

   'Uncle Thadeus, dear boy.  '

   'You love it in the arse, really?'

   'Can't get enough, Uncle Thadeus.'

   'Then you will find me very generous, Kevin.  Ah, here comes the desert.
A lemon souffle I think.'

   As we ate the confection, I studied the others round the table.  I could
not really see the other boy, Will, and was not really interested in him.
The huge black guy, Ralston McKenzie, was clearly very pleased with
himself. His every gesture exuded masculinity and confidence.  The guy he
came with was one of those pretty black guys, with full sensual lips and a
complexion that seemed as soft as velvet.  He was clearly muscular and
well-set-up, and bodily very masculine.  I decided I had been wrong to
describe him as effeminate earlier.  He was pretty, would have a body to
die for when he stripped, as we all would soon.  Despite his long
eye-lashes and dark, sultry looks, he was masculine: very, very gay, but
very, very masculine.  The University student, Jolyon, had a real
upper-class English accent.  I assumed he was a typical product of our
School System, privileged, rich, and benefitting from all those years in
the crowded, sexually charged atmosphere of Boarding School, all those nice
boy bottoms to fuck, and all those lovely strong Seniors' cocks to be
fucked by.  I had met a lot like him in my whoring days: they just could
not resist a slender arse!  And they were a type I quite liked too, though
I preferred the rugby football version of it more than the willowy
cricketer!  His Professor, Mr Ponson, was nondescript.  Lean and wiry,
greying sandy hair, he could be any age between forty and sixty.

   I felt that hand again stroking my groin.  'So, which of them do you
fancy, Kevin?'

   'You're a mind-reader, Uncle Thadeus.  Any way, I've promised you my
arse.' Uncle Thadeus was very like his brother, greying but still a good,
hard body.  He saw me looking across at Uncle Gulliver and then back to
himself.

   'Yes, we are similar.  We are twins, you know, but not identical.  I
suppose that's why we like the same things.  We were very close as
children, and I mean very close.  Our silly parents allowed us to sleep in
the same double bed, and you can imagine what that led to!'

   'Lucky!'

   'It was.  Certainly we both learned the joys of a teenage body, bottom,
cock, and slender smooth frame.  Oh yes!' He paused a moment, still
stroking my erect little cock.  And I'm afraid we were a bad influence at
Prep School.'

   'There was no boy-sex at all at my school.  Some of the boys fucked the
girls though.'

   'You've made up for that since eh?  But you haven't said who you fancy,
apart from me that is.'

   'The big boxer guy.  Though sometimes those huge muscle-guys have tiny
little cocks.'

   'And you like 'em big eh?  Well, you'll like mine, and you'll just drool
over his.  I've seen it.  It's monstrous!'

  
...........................................................................

   After the meal, the plates were cleared, and brandy and malt whiskey
brought in by Parkin.  On the same tray was a bowl of white powder (coke of
course) and a few carefully rolled joints.  The University guy and his
student lit joints, Sir Gulliver and his brother snorted some cocaine,
while the two boxers had a glass of brandy each.I stuck with my fizzy
water, as did Will.  Uncle Thadeus kissed me as we sat at the table, a
long, wet, passionate kiss, his hand groping my lunch box.  The three other
couples were occasionally kissing and caressing.  I was amused (I still am
as I am a life-long abstainer from alcohol and drugs) .  Yes, I was amused
to see how just-plain-silly guys get as they become slightly drunk or
stoned.  However, it would clearly lead to some good, uninhibited sex soon!

   Uncle Gulliver must have rung, because Parkin came in again.  He was
told to take the drinks, glasses, pot and coke to the library, and, 'That
will be all for this evening, thankyou, Parkin.'

   'Very well, sir.'

   'And now let's go through and get comfortable!'

  
...........................................................................
........

   The library was as I had not seen it before.  The large leather arm
chairs, the great desk, the ladders and small tables, all that had been
cleared out, and replaced by two king-sized mattresses on the thick carpet,
and a couple of leather-covered benches.  Pablo and Pedro must have been
busy during the afternoon.  The bottles, glasses, smokes and coke were on a
small side table, with sachets I recognised as lube.

   I stood at the edge of a mattress and kicked my shoes off: as I bent to
remove my socks I felt hands on my arse.  Thadeus was having a grope at his
second favourite part of a boy's anatomy.  All round me clothes were flying
to the corners of the room as eager men tore them off.  I wondered how they
would ever sort them out especially as eveyone was wearing the same.  I
pulled at my bow tie.

   'No, Kevin.  Let me.'

   Uncle Thadeus wanted to strip me naked himself.  I stood there as his
hands worked over me.  He pulled my tie loose, and slowly undid buttons on
my shirt.  I knew he was savouring every moment of this disrobing.  A hand
slipped into my open shirt and explored my bare chest.  My right nipple was
rolled between finger and thumb.  My left nipple was tweaked.  He pulled my
shirt from my waistband and slipped it off, throwing it to the side of the
room.

   'Delightful!  Firm and so very boy-ish.  Silky!' As he caressed me he
was talking to himself, fixing the memory for later pleasure I guessed. 
Now his hands were at my waist, fumbling with buttons and the cummerbund.
Slowly he drew the zip down, and I stepped out of the trousers.  He knelt
in front of me, still fully-dressed.  The other men were all naked now.  I
looked across at the boxing champ.  He was magnificent!  Clearly vain he
had struck a pose, leaning against a polished book-case, shoulders square
against it, legs apart, belly pushed slightly forward to accentuate his
balls and cock.  His hairless torsoe shone as if oiled, and perhaps it had
been lightly oiled to give this effect.  Muscles rippled.

   Uncle Thadeus had his mouth over my clean white underpants now, nuzzling
my hard little cock through the cloth.  From my Kings Cross whoring days, I
knew that many men dream of just that, mouthing a young boys through his
underpants as a prelude to even greater pleasures.  I ruffled his hair
gently as he played, his hands gripping my buttocks, but still denying
himself my naked flesh.  The black guy I was watching was not yet hard, but
his cock was impressive even in this state, hanging a good six inches in a
graceful arc, like a salami suasage, I thought.  He may have waxed his
chest, but from belly down he was hairy, with those lovely tight curls of
pubic hair some black men have.I could not wait to see him erect.  And I
did not have to wait long, as the willowy, upper-class-type student was
beside him now, caressing his body, kissing his bull-neck.  The white guy
was certainly hard.  A long, thin cock, quite attractive, cut with a light
pink head on its white shaft.

   He was pulling my underpants down now, revealing my little-boy cock,
hard and throbbing.  I expected him to suck, but he stood up and pulled me
to him.

   There is something especially sexy to be naked in the arms of a
fully-clothed man, and I have told you of my fetish for uniforms.  Later in
my life, one of the great pleasures of nude photo-modelling was to seduce
the photographer, pressing my naked body to his clothed!  So for a moment
or two I forgot the vision of masculine beauty I had been studying, and
concentrated on Uncle Thadeus.  I squirmed against him as we kissed.  My
cock must have been dribbling a bit on his dinner-jacket trousers I
thought. I could feel his cock hard beneath the layers of cloth as I rubbed
myself against him.  He reached between us and felt for me: his hand cupped
my balls.  'Delightful!  Hairless little balls.  And what an eager little
cock for me!' He was murmuring to himself, not me, but I found the words
exciting and flattering none-the-less.  His other hand was on my buttocks,
sometimes stroking and kneading, sometimes pulling me closer onto him as
his tongue explored my mouth.

   On the mattress (we were still staning on the floor at its edge) Uncle
Gulliver was kneeling behind Will, his tongue round the boy's anus,
preparing him to be impaled on that cock I knew so well.  The soft-skinned,
lithe black guy and the University Prof were lying side-by-side in the most
endearing sixty-nine.  I was astounded to see the Champ, back to me now,
legs still apart, but leaning against the bookcase so the student guy could
get at his arse.  It shows you how wrong you can be from appearances, I had
assumed the student would be 'bottom', like so many of our rich and
powerful schooled to accept cock up their arses from long years in
boarding-school.  And that the huge muscular black would be a powerful
fucker of tender arses.  Wrong!  It was clear the Champ was a bottom,
presenting his arse to the fortunate white guy.

   I wished I could see that cock.  It looked as if it would be hard by
now.

   Uncle Thadeus was still fully dressed.  I pulled at his tie impatiently.
He broke away from me and started to strip.

   Ralston and his admirer Jolyon moved to a more comfortable place, at the
far edge of the mattresses.  Here, the black guy could bend over, his arms
braced against one of the low benches, his arse jutting out for his lover,
but his cock free.  And what a cock!  A lot of muscular guys have tiny
cocks; well, that's not quite true: lots of muscular guys have
ordinary-sized cocks that look small against the backdrop of huge thighs
etc.  This one had a cock to suit his body, and a cock to die for.  It had
waved in the air in front of him as he crossed the room, and now it stuck
out gloriously as he offered his arse.  I just had to have it!  Thadeus was
still getting out of his pants as I crossed the room and knelt beneath the
hulking black frame.  I reached up and caressed two great balls hanging
loose in their sack.  I grasped the cock.  It was all I could do to get my
hand round the shaft.  It twitched and throbbed.  I guessed it was at least
ten inches!  The great purple plum of a knob leaked clear pre-cum.  He had
been cut.  I kissed the end of his cock and licked some precum.  This was
my first black cock (incredibly, but black guys just did not visit Kings
Cross, and apart from my first, the half-Asian, all Mother's guys were
white.) It looked magnificent and I managed to get that knob into my little
boy mouth, stretching it so I feared my jaw would dislocate.  I heard him
moan, and he pushed hard with his hips, forcing it further in.  It was no
good!  He was just too big for my little-boy, twelve-year-old mouth.  I
pulled away, and instead licked his balls, running my tongue up the crease,
over the crinkly, little black springs of hair.  Now up the front of his
cock.

   Jolyon was rubbing his cock-head between those buttocks, just inches
from my face.  Then the muscular black hips flinched towards me, and I knew
Jolyon was up him, pushing deep into him.  There was that smell of
penetrated rectum as well as the delightful male scent of his balls.  I
licked the precum from his knob while Jolyon fucked him.

   Arms around my waist as I knelt, and I was pulled away from my pleasure.
It was Thadeus, naked now, cock standing, and eager for some boy bottom!

   He rolled me over on my side on the mattress, and we were kissing, arms
around each other, belly to belly, legs entwined.  I could feel his hands
roaming all over me, feeling my smooth skin and slender body.  He rolled me
over on my back, still kissing me.  I could feel his cock hard against my
arsehole now.  I have always loved the pressure of a knob just there, and
the promise of greater pleasures to come.  He was sucking my nipples now
and muttering "Oh Baby!  Oh Baby" or some such nonsense endearment.  My
cock was hard against his belly.  My hands on his back, I pulled him even
closer.  He was pushing hard now, trying to enter me.

   'Lube, Uncle Thadeus.  Please use some lube.'

   He made no reply, but stuck his fingers in my mouth for me to moisten
them.  I felt him wiping his knob with them, and then the pressure again.
This very slight lubricant enabled his knob to enter.  It hurt as the skin
of my arsehole was pulled in with it.

   'So tight!  So lovely and tight!'

   That was it!  He was not just content with a twelve-year-old's tiny
arsehole, he wanted it specially tight, with no lube!

   'Please, Uncle!  It hurts!'

   I won't say he was brutal, but he did not pause.  A steady, relentless
pressure, and his cock was slipping into me, until I felt his weight
against my pubes, and knew he was completely in me.  There was a dull ache
where the very end of his cock touched my rectum, and I knew that ache,
that fullness, presaged pleasure to come.  He lifted my legs and held them
in the classic position, gaining another inch of my arse by so doing.  And
he started to fuck me, long and slow sweeps.  I looked at him for a moment,
and then as the pleasure started closed my eyes.

   It may have been five minutes, and he stopped and withdrew.

   'Please, Uncle.  that was so good!'

   I need not have worried.  It was just to turn me over.  He fancied my
bottom.  (I'm not being vain when I say I had a cute little bottom, a
bottom to die for, tanned, firm, slim and rounded.) I was glad he squirted
some lube on me this time, and slid so easily into me.  Now he was fucking
me quite hard, and fondling my buttocks, sometimes slapping me.  Noises of
fucking and sucking filled the room.  I was more aware of them now.  I
looked round.  Uncle Gulliver had stopped fucking Will, and they were
laying together sucking.  By the look of Uncle Thadeus's cock he had not
come yet.  Jolyon was still fucking his body-beautiful, The Prof and his
pretty black guy were laying side by side, innocently kissing and
caressing. And I was being fucked, very efficiently and thoroughly!  I
closed my eyes again to enjoy it.

   My head was pulled up and a glass, a half-pint glass, was thrust under
my nose.

   'Drink!'

   It was green, and looked dreadful.  (Some men like to get a boy drunk
for sex.  It gives them a sense of power.  They enjoy the knowledge that
the boy will not be able to resist their hands as they strip him naked and
explore the contours of his body.  That he will not be able to resist the
penetration of his mouth and anus by probing tongue, fingers and penis. 
Often they use his body for more bizarre sexual practises, safe in the
knowledge he cannot resist and will not remember when sober again.  These
guys can be dangerous, and that's one reason why I never drink!)

   'Drink!' The voice was that of the pretty black guy, and the hand
holding the glass was black.  My hair was being pulled, and my neck hurt,
so I drank.  It was sweet and tasted of peppermint.  I managed half the
tumbler and gagged as I realised it was burning my throat.  Whatever it
was, the alcohol in it was powerful.  My head was jerked back again and I
finished the glass.  It felt warm in my stomach and went straight to my
head.  I felt suddenly giddy.  Then there was this cock sticking out, right
in my face.  My second black cock of the evening: second of my young life!
Only this one was more manageable.  Long and slender, it was elegant and
fine, where the first had been all masculine and brutal.  I opened my lips,
eager for it to slide into me.

   I had, of course, been spit-roasted before, in my Mother's bed.  I love
the feeling of complete subjection to the male, cock in arse and cock in
mouth.  I was in ecstacy as that lovely cock shagged my mouth.  I supported
myself by clutching him round his hips, a palm on each buttock as he thrust
in and out.  His bum was cute, like mine, small, firm and silky smooth. 
Now it got even better as I felt someone sliding beneath our three-some,
and a mouth on my cock.  It was Will.

   I guess I was the centre of attention now (and later realised that had
been Uncle Gullivers intention).  There were hands all over my body,
kneading, teasing, fondling and caressing.  I felt the black cock in my
mouth getting close and hoped I would get to taste his cum.  Behind me
Jolyon was fucking harder and faster each instant, and I knew I would soon
feel the rush of his orgasm.  My head was reeling a bit and I was only half
aware of what was going on.  My mouth filled with hot, silky cum.  My first
black-guy cum, I thought.  I swallowed franticly as he spurted, and fucked
my mouth slower.  As he came to a rest, so Thadeus unloaded deep in my
arse. I felt his cock slip even easier as he rammed me lubricated by spurt
after spurt of hot cum.  And, almost unaware, I came in Will's mouth, as he
busily sucked my cock and tickled my balls.

   Both cocks stayed in place for minutes, hard and throbbing, and Will
kept his lips round my own cock till it went limp.

   I assumed that was it!  How wrong.  The minute Thadeus's cock slipped
from me, another took its place.  profitting, I assume, from my gaping arse
to slide easily in.  The black cock was removed, and Thadeus's rather limp
weapon took its place.  I was to suck him hard again, it seemed.

   I worked it out that the cock in my arse must belong to Jolyon, fresh
from shagging the Champ.  I wondered if he had come in that muscular, ebony
arse.  I hoped he had, as I would benefit from a longer fucking!

   I concentrated on Thadeus, holding the limp cock in my mouth and
alternately sucking and releasing.  A hand appeared and cradled his balls
while I sucked.  My own body was still being caressed and handled by
several separate hands, and Jolyon slapped my arse lightly with every deep
thrust.  I felt someone wriggle under me, where Will had been.  I could not
see who it was, but it was certainly not Will: the chin was prickly where
it touched my thighs and pubic bone as he sucked me.  Thadeus was
beiginning to get hard again, and so was I.  I realised it must be Ralston
sucking me : I still could not see, but as my stiff little prick slipped
from his mouth for a moment I felt the crinkly, sharp hair of his head
against my belly.  Not only was I being spit-roasted, I had one of the
sexiest, apparently most macho guys in England sucking my cock.  And I
don't know how many others feeling me up, enjoying my smooth and "
forbidden fruit" boy's body.  It must have been all four of the others I
think.

   Either Jolyon had pulled his cock out of Ralston's bum before he came,
or he was a real quick repeater.  The slaps on my arse became harder and
faster as he slammed his cock into me.  I heard him swear as he slammed one
great blow there, and I knew he was coming.  You can tell how these men
lusted after boy-flesh by the power of their orgasms as they came, whether
in my mouth or in my arse.  The hot spunk just gushed and gushed, a slap on
my arse with each thrust, with each spurt.

   Thadeus was still in my mouth as Jolyon's cock slipped out of my anus.
The same moment Ralston slid from under me.

   'Oh no!  Please, I've had enough.  Please, I'm only twelve and that's
enough.  Fuck someone else.  Please not me, please.' And really my arse
felt sore.

   I heard Ralston's deep laugh, and someone opened a poppers under my
nose. The rush to my head was instant, adding to the giddiness from the
green creme de menthe earlier.  I no longer knew where I was, who I was,
what I wanted.  I was just a mouth and an arse to be filled.

   I heard Gulliver.  'Careful Ralston, he's tight and you're huge.  Don't
damage him.'

   'Shit, man.  He's gaping like a five pound whore.  Look at the size of
that hole now.'

   I felt again the pressure of a knob on my arsehole.  I heard myself
begging, 'Please, yes.  Fuck me.  Give it me now.  Now.' My words were
muffled by Thadeus' cock.

   'Shit, man.  Hear that?  The little whore wants it.'

   It hurt as he pushed his cock-head into me, stretching my tender arse
further than it had ever been distended before.  I screamed.  I won't say
he was brutal, but he took no notice, holding my arse in both hands so I
could not flinch away.  With a slow relentless pressure, using the full
strength of his muscular lower body, he pushed his huge cock home, till his
sharp, prickly hair touched my tender arse.  The dull ache was back, but
not real pain.  I knew it would be good when he started really to fuck me.

   Another mouth slipped round my cock as I knelt.  Thadeus was shagging my
mouth hard, and I tried to tell Ralston to fuck me hard, but the words were
too muffled.  He must have got the idea, because that cock was slipping
easily in and out now, each sweep of it touching my "sweet spot" and
driving me on towards orgasm.  I felt myself coming in a mouth, whose I
know not.  I spurted and spurted and spurted.  Another popper was broken
under my nose as Thadeus came, filling my mouth with his silky, slippery
cum.  I was lost to the world, swimmimng in pleasure.  The blows of thighs
against my arse were massive now, and I knew Ralston would come in me.  I
actually felt his come as he spurted (mostly I don't), and I guess I passed
out and crumpled at that moment.  Too much alcohol, poppers, and cum I
guess!

   I can half remember being lifted and carried out, by Thadeus I imagine.
And in the middle of the night I awoke briefly to find myself laying on my
side, a cock in me, shagging me everso gently.  Thadeus again, I imagine. I
went to sleep again, despite being fucked, perhaps the only time that has
ever happened to me.

  
...........................................................................
....................

   In the morning I woke needing a piss, a shit, a shower, and a gallon of
cold water!  Uncle Thadeus was snoring, shattered by his exertions!

   I checked the toilet bowl.  No blood!  My arse felt a bit sore,
certainly Ralston's cock caused that, but there was no other damage.  I
cheerfully concluded if I could take that crowd of rampant males then I
could take anything.  I enjoyed my shower all the more, and with the
soaping and the thought of Uncle Thadeus laying there waiting soon went
hard again.

   I was just crossing the room back to the bed when Mariah walked in
carrying a tray.  She never knocked, that girl!

   'Sorry Mariah!'

   ''No problem, Kevin.  That looks very nice.Yummy yummy.'

   She put the tray down on a round antique table and drew the blinds. 
With the sudden sunlight Thadeus moaned and turned over onto his back.  He
was hard, a real early morning hard-on despite the exertions the night
before, and during the night as I half-remembered.  Mariah sat on the bed.

   'He likes to pretend to be asleep so I can wake him up.  It's always the
same when he stays overnight.' She leaned over him and took his cock in her
mouth.  As she stretched her black, maid's skirt rode up her long legs. 
Her black fishnet stockings reminded me of my mother, and even more the
startling scarlet satin panties.  I always assumed she would wear black or
white underwear, like her uniform, but these were as gaudy as any I had
seen in the Victoria flat.

   There was a most unfeminine shape to the red satin bulge!

   He was awake in a second, so perhaps he really had been pretending.  He
pulled her from his cock and hugged her.

   'It's been a long time, Mariah.'

   'It's been just two weeks, you dirty old man!'

   I watched while they kissed and fondled each other.  Then, 'Feel her
tits Kevin.  They're something else!  Special!'

   'Should be.  They cost me and Parkin enough!' She laughed, and Thadeus
grabbed my hand, pushing it down inside her low-cut blouse.  There was no
bra.  And she did not need one either.  Her tits were round, small and
firm, and again I was reminded of those 3-in-a-bed romps with my mother and
any one of her 'clients'.  I'm not a great one for tits, male or female (!)
but I must admit if they are like that they are nice.  He pulled my hand
from her and shoved it up her skirt.  I could feel her cock hard under the
satin, and it reminded me of my own boyish fun in my mother's panties,
feeling the shape of my hard little cock through satin.  My cock was really
hard now, and I thought of the two black cocks I had played with the
evening before.  Here was another, and it felt good.  I grasped it.  I
wanted to see it!

   As if mind-reading Thadeus told her to take her panties off.  'Don't
want to spoil them, darling.'

   He arranged us so that Mariah and I would enjoy a sixty nine, while he
had her in her arse.  Well, it was not a real sixty nine as she was a bit
too tall for me, but I started with her knob in my mouth.  She was not
huge, but a very pretty cock, straight in the shaft and with a lovely knob,
circumcised.  After a moment or two, Thadeus sliding in and out of her
bottom (I think she must have been lubricated ready for him before she came
in), she pulled away, and my cock was in her mouth while I was able to lick
and kiss the naked black flesh at the top of her stockings.

   Purely in passing, A client of mine, an eminent surgeon, once told me
that probably I never got aids, when many of my friends did, because I was
'cut'.  Mariah, too, lived on disease-free, despite her eager barebacking
in those dangerous years.

   Anyway, enough of those dismal thoughts!  Thadeus was giving her a real
seeing too, and I insisted on sucking her again.  She was getting more and
more excited, and I could taste precum, and lots of it.  Then suddenly, no
warning, my mouth was filled with her cum.  She was deep in my mouth when
the first spurt gushed, and I gagged for a second.  But I recovered and
swallowed, making sure my mouth, lips and tongue gave her the maximum
pleasure.

   Thadeus was still fucking her.  I expect his exploits with me (and I
guess others) the night before slowed him down a bit.

   My turn now, as Mariah took my cock in her mouth and gave me one of the
better blow-jobs I've had.  At the last minute she slid her finger in my
arse and I came.  I had not noticed, but Thadeus had already come.

  
...........................................................................
...........................

   The whole experience was made all the better by Thadeus leaving me a
cheque for £100, and the other three guys from the night before left me
tips totalling £220.  Over breakfast Thadeus asked me what I was doing with
all the cash I was 'earning'.  He laughed when I told him most of it
finished up in the Post Office Savings Book.  He told me to tell his
brother Gulliver first, and get him to take me round to his (Thadeus') City
Offices.  About a week later we did that, and I gave all my savings to
Uncle Thadeus for one of his people to manage for me.  I think there must
have been some 'insider trading' because over the next three years they
doubled, doubled, and doubled again.  And all the time I was adding most of
my monthly allowance from Gulliver, and the tips I earned from his dinner
parties, which were frequent.  Eventually, when my time with Uncle Gulliver
was up, there was enough for me to put down a large deposit on the fine
Victorian House facing Clapham Common which is where I still live.  I am
sitting in my study, overlooking the green parkland as I write this memoir.
Sometimes I let it out to wealthy visitors to London, preferring to pursue
my upper-class whoring in the more convenient quarter of Shepherd's Market,
but when the time came it was a splendid and prestigious address for me.

   The dinner parties also gave me that network of rich, mostly married
bisexuals who were the guts of my later business as a hire-class rent-boy!

  
...........................................................................
................................

   I had met the Count Szorski at one of those same parties, and thought
him handsome, delightful and charming.  He had some odd sexual tastes, but
I quite enjoyed my part in them too.  I'll tell you about them later.  So I
was not too upset when Uncle Gulliver told me that at nearly sixteen I was
really getting too old to satisfy his sexual tastes.  I had been with him
for a year longer than I expected in any case.  He told me Count Szorski
would like to take me over as one of his companions.

   First, and my last service to Uncle Gulliver, I had to find a suitable
successor to young Kevin.

   I knew what he wanted, of course, and started to hunt around the Railway
Station platforms and toliets, the same sorts of places he had found me.

   It took about a week, and it was in my old Paddington Station haunt that
I found him, young Jean-Paul.  He stood out as a lad with immense sexual
potential from the moment I spotted him.  He was new to the game, expecting
me to make the first move.  No whore can make a living that way!  And he
looked a bit dirty and dishevelled, though his clothes were probably good.
I asked him to come and have a coffee with me.

   It amused me to sit at the same table as I had those years before with
Gulliver.  A bit of superstition there as well, I guess: it seemed lucky.
He was hungry and wolfed down three plates of cakes!  Because I was not
really much older than him he was able to open up.  He was still twelve, a
couple of months from his thirteenth birthday.  He had 'disgraced himself
and his family', though at first he would not tell me how.

   I told him my story.  How I had sucked cocks and been sucked off in
those same toilets.  Alaways for cash.  How I had been rescued by a rich,
gay gentleman.

   Then he unwound.  He had been discovered by the Headmaster and the Padre
of his Paris school sucking the cock of a younger boy.  A local builder had
been with the teachers and there was no way the scandal could be kept
quiet. The boys had hidden in a laundry cupboard where they should have
been safe to explore each others' bodies.  Ill fortune had it that the
Builder had been summoned to estimate the costs of re-roofing that part of
the school, and there the two boys were, naked, erect and sucking!  And an
independent witness.  Jean-Paul got the blame because he was the older.

   His father went berserk!  His mother moped about weeping all day.  The
other boys in the neighbourhood were merciless with their taunts, 'Even the
ones who liked to suck cock!' Jean-Paul found that disloyalty perhaps the
most difficult to bear.

   I comforted him 'They were frightened.  Gays like us are still
ridiculed, and they were afraid they would get the same treatment.'

   He had run away from all this, bought a train ticket to London and
managed to cross the Channel without a passport.  A boy at Waterloo
Station, where he had ended up the night before, had told him he could earn
money in the toilets, but that Paddington was much safer than the modern
facilities at Waterloo.  He was happy to accept my offer of a bath and a
meeting with my benefactor.  It occurred to me that if people were looking
for him it would be in France, not here, as he had no passport.  Ideal!

   I undressed with him, to make him feel more at home.  I should describe
Jean-Paul perhaps.  He was about eight inches shorter than me, but then he
would be at three years younger.  His blonde hair had been cropped quite
short in the French schoolboy manner, but I guessed Gulliver would get him
to grow it longer: he loved wavy hair in a boy.  His eyes were a piercing,
deep blue, and he had those full lips you find in French boys (probably
getting their mouths round that language of theirs rather than the usual
explanation of a love of oral sex).  Apart from that his skin was without
blemish, silky-tanned except for the white where his trunks maintained
sun-bathing decency, and a tiny triangle of golden pubic hair.  He was not
fat, not lean, not yet muscular, but certainly not a child.  Just on that
cusp that I knew Gulliver lusted for in his boys.  His cock went hard when
he saw me stripped (I was hard, of course), and it looked a pretty little
four inches or so, uncut, and just right for Gulliver!  I was sure he would
approve.  I was glad he went hard when we stripped as that suggested he was
genuinely gay, which Gulliver insisted on.  We caressed each other in the
shower, but I told him we should not cum in case Gulliver wanted to play a
bit.  (In case?  I knew he would just drool at this find!).

  
...........................................................................
....................

   There were no hard feelings when Gulliver traded me in for a newer
model; after all that had been the deal, and in fact I had an extra year
with him.  And Count Szorski was generous, very good-looking, and lived in
great style.  He always had three companions in his country house, always
male, always in their late teens.  As with Gulliver you knew you would
leave after two or so years.The other two guys were Jason and Mark when I
arrived, and both left while I was with him.

   He owned a great, rambling manor house, parts of which dated back five
hundred years, especially the vaulted cellars which were believed to be the
last remains of a Priory that once stood on the site.  Other parts were
very new, like the gymnasium and swimming pool.  The house sat at the
centre of a several thousand acre estate, much of which was farmed by
tenant farmers.  There were stables and horses, and I soon became a good
enough rider to ride to hounds with the Count and his companions, in the
local Hunt.  The servants, all male, were, like Gulliver's, very used to
the sexual antics of their master and his companions.  They were, however,
strictly off-limits to us, and the Count never touched them either .  While
we were normally naked inside the house, the servants were always
respectably clothed.

   House rules were that the three of us had to spend two hours a day in
the gymnasium, and I often spent longer.  Count Szorski liked his young men
strong and muscular, with hard, fit bodies.  He used to enjoy watching us
work out, but himself did not.  As a result he was handsome in a rather
feminine way, with a good body, but no real muscles.  He felt soft and
silky when you caressed him.

   There was a lot of sex as you would imagine with three fit young guys
who had nothing much else to fill the hours of the day.  Count Szorski used
to like to watch us perform in threes.  Typically one would kneel on all
fours, a second enter him from behind, and the third fuck the second from
behind as well.  As a variation we would spit roast.  Sometimes the guy
being fucked would be sucked off.  All these variations left one of us boys
unsatisfied, cock still rigid.  Count Szorski would be hard as well
watching the show.

   I had guessed from his visits to Gulliver's 'evenings'' and it was no
surprise when, after I had been fucked in the arse by Jason, he led me down
into the cellars.  Here he had me lock his wrists into chains that hung
from the ceiling and whip him.  I enjoyed that, and was careful not to
break the skin, but knew it had to hurt just short of that.  I could see
the precum oozing from that long, slender penis as I whipped his arse and
back.  Then, as he shouted "now", I was required to quickly shove my cock
up his arse, which he had greased ready an hour before.  He liked this just
as he was on the point of coming, and I would watch his cum arc through the
air.  But I was expected to continue fucking, and he would stay hard. 
Usually he would cum a second time, and that was the signal that I could
unload into him.

  
...........................................................................
.............................................

   This happy household idyll went on for nearly two years.  I had plenty
of sex with Jason and Mark, and later their replacements as they moved on,
and learned to look forward to whipping and otherwise torturing my
employer. Like Gulliver, he sometimes gave parties, often for the whole
weekend.  These were something to look forward to, and were useful in
widening still further the contacts I would need when I left to continue my
career as a whore.  His guests were also generous tippers.

   On the financial front, apart from the house on Clapham Common, still
mortgaged, I had a tidy sum invested in shares and bonds, to which I added
continually.  Uncle Thadeus gave me preferential treatment, and it
increased rapidly with his peoples' trading skills.  Then, two years into
my stay, my financial situation was transformed.

   Poor Uncle Gulliver was run over by a bus in Fenchurch Street.  I wept
at his funeral, as did Jean-Paul his present companion, and the half dozen
other young men who had preceded us as bed-companions.  Pablo and Pedro,
Parkin and Mariah were all there, among the well-dressed City types around
the grave..

   The will was read to us a week later in Thadeus' office.  He had no
relatives (apart from Thadeus who was very wealthy in his own right), and
his fortune was split between the ten boys and men who had, over the years,
been his companions, and the four faithful servants.  Even split fourteen
ways it was a large sum!  And, the house was left to me!  I was so proud to
think that among all those boys I must have been the favourite!  I paid off
the mortgage on Clapham Common and there was still a huge amount for
Thadeus to invest for me.  Gulliver's lovely house I left as it was, and
still let it out furnished to visitors from the Middle East mainly.  It was
expensive!  Mariah and Parkin used some of their inheritance to open a gay
nightclub in Soho, but Pablo and Pedro stayed on and continued to work for
me and my short-term tenants, just as they had for Gulliver.  As the
visitors usually brought their own staff with them, there really was little
for them to do .

   And, of course, Jean-Paul moved in with Count Szorski, replacing me.

  
...........................................................................
................................................

   And that's how I became a whore.  And that's enough chat!  I want that
lovely cock up me again.  Stop playing with it, and give it to me hard and
rough!

   FIN















   .