21 Ağustos 2022 0 Yazar: sexhikayeleri


Subject: Last of the Line – Chapter 118 Last of the Line by badboi666 =============================================================================== If sex with boys isn’t your thing, go away. If, as is much more likely, you’ve come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about sex with 14-year-olds then make yourself comfortable – you’re in the right place. Don’t leave, however, without doing this: Donate to Nifty – these buggers may do it for love but they still have to eat. fty/donate.html NOTE to the reader: “Peter Brown” aka badboi666 is, as you might guess, not in the first flush of youth: indeed he is well into the you’ll-die-if-you-get-this-fucking-thing age cohort. If he gets a nasty cough and a temperature he will post a synopsis of what is still to come. Then, if he snuffs it, you can at least have some idea of what befell Dab in the end. The good news is that he has had his first Pfizer shot. =============================================================================== Chapter 118 They introduced themselves as Skinner and Tempest. “Posner,” I said. Skinner grinned. “I wonder if they’ll ever run out of names,” he said, “I take it you know the owner’s surname.” I shook my head. “Work it out,” said Tempest, “it’ll keep you busy. We usually come with a colleague of mine called Franklin, but he’s in New York this month. Pity really.” I wondered why Franklin’s absence was a pity, but as further information wasn’t forthcoming I let it drop. Menus appeared but neither Skinner nor Tempest bothered to look at them. “Beef stew and jam roly-poly for two,” said Skinner. “Make that three please,” I said, turning to hand my unread menu back, and being very glad that I had done so, for the boy taking our orders was worth looking at. I hadn’t seen him on either of my earlier visits. “Like what you see, Posner?” said Tempest when the boy had gone. “Indeed I do. There’s something about them at that age that really gets me going.” I should tell you that the boy was 15 – hardly news to you, given all you know about me – and slim and pretty. “Is he … ?” I said. “Oh yes, all the staff in here are available,” said Tempest, “but surely you know that.” I told them that this was only my second visit, and I still had most of the race card to sample. Skinner laughed. “There’s only four under 20, Posner, so you don’t have that many to try.” I grinned. “If I’m honest I haven’t got past Zeke yet.” “Ah, the lovely Zeke,” said Tempest, “Franklin’s preferred companion. Skinner and I prefer older meat – better hung, you might say. We won’t be competing with you.” Skinner bent close to tell me that their preference was Mark. “I met him when I was first brought here as a guest. My host liked to endure an hour with him. Not for me though. Still, ” I said, raising my glass, “it takes all sorts.” “If you’re into Zeke shouldn’t you be filling up with beer? Franklin positively sloshes about as the two of them go upstairs.” “Soon,” I said, “but I haven’t booked him yet.” Skinner was surprised. “You should, you know. It makes sense to book whoever you want before eating. Look around you – there’s 20, 25 of us eating but only 8 to satisfy baser needs.” Damn, I thought. Skinner caught a waiter’s eye – not one I’d noticed before. He approached – a large fit figure of a man in his later 20s, I judged. “Paul, my friend Posner was so keen to get his teeth round the excellent stew that he quite forgot to see whether the delightful Zeke would be free in – what – 45 minutes, say? Would you find out for us?” I was learning fast. Three minutes later the excellent stew was brought in by none other than the delightful Zeke. “Hello, Posner, it’s nice to see you. Paul says you’re after me today.” “Beef, roly-poly, rumpy-pumpy,” said Tempest, “what better way to spend an afternoon, eh, Zeke?” Zeke murmured something about Mr Whippy. “Too right, lad,” said Skinner, “while you explore the Yellow River with Posner Tempest and I will be under the lash. Takes all sorts, as Posner says.” None of the four participants in this exchange seemed at all fazed by it, I was glad to see. “An hour then,” I said. Zeke smiled, “OK.” I asked Skinner what the form was if I wanted to bring a guest. “You just turn up and hope that whoever you want is free. Old Lionel gives your guest a name – surely that’s what happened when you first came.” “Yes, but what if I want to bring another regular and two guests. Should I have a word with somebody first?” This wasn’t something with which either Skinner or Tempest was familiar. “I suppose if you’re planning a gang bang it would make sense to talk to Mr B first. I know that they cater for larger parties sometimes. I’ve not been to one, but the man who first brought me had been at a party to celebrate a man whose horse won big at Ascot. They all got to fuck the jockey apparently,” said Tempest, chuckling at the thought. The jam roly-poly was brought in by Mark. “I like to see red oozing from the result of my labours,” he said softly as he set the plates in front of us. I hoped my shudder wasn’t observed. Still, it took all sorts, I supposed. “I imagine the beers are for you, Posner.” I was surprised as I hadn’t ordered any, and I looked up at him. “Zeke thought you might care to prepare. There’s more if you need it. Compliments of the house.” My companions watched him stride away. “He’s so fierce when you get kilis escort to know him,” said Tempest happily. As the jam roly-poly disappeared I learned that Skinner and Tempest had been contemporaries at one of England’s more traditional public schools where, as Skinner put it, “Victorian discipline never died out”, and each of them had found such treatment to be encouraging of fiercer and more satisfying orgasms than any other form of stimulation. “How did you find this place?” I asked. Skinner and Tempest glanced at each other and a nod was exchanged. “Our housemaster brought us here in our last term. I was Head of House and Skinner was my deputy. As such we were meting out such delights and we found we missed not getting … treatment. ‘Have it as an early leaving present,’ he said.” “Did he join you?” “God no. He’s like you. Rufus was just 15 then. Have you had Rufus yet?” I shook my head. “You should before he gets too old for you. Are all your party into that colour?” I nodded. “Well then, you need Zeke and Rufus for sure.” He turned to Skinner. “Is the new boy a pisser?” “How would I know? We could ask him, he’s over there by the servery.” Tempest beckoned to the boy who, I noticed, had looked at our table a few times. Perhaps, if he was new, he was scanning the customers for the ones he fancied – not that a brothel works that way. “What’s your name?” I said. “Jeremy.” He paused as if to remember what he was supposed to say. “This is only my third week, but I’m 15 and willing to serve you in any way I can. I don’t have a favourite colour but -” (and he grinned seductively) “- I’m more of a rainbow type.” “All colours?” I asked. “All colours.” “Thank you, Jeremy. Would you mind bringing me a menu, please. Not the food one.” Jeremy grinned – ah! those front teeth – and off he went, this time with a bounce of his pert little arse. Tempest offered Skinner his view that ‘Posner here will be up that one like a rat up a drain’. Posner had to agree – but not today. Skinner got up. “Time for the serious business, Posner. It was good to talk to you. Maybe we’ll see each other again some time,” and he and Tempest went off to the punishment room. My bill came and I signed it. My credit card would be debited with a bland name – Universal Catering – 24 hours later. “I wonder if I might have a couple of minutes with the manager,” I said, placing £10 in the man’s hand – I’d not seen him before. I had a quick look for Jeremy in the menu. It showed a nice cock and gave the useful information that Jeremy was open to having new experiences. I looked forward to assisting in such matters on Coronation Day. Two minutes later he returned and I was led behind the baize door into a small office where Mr B (as I assumed him to be) held court. I asked whether it was permitted to be a party of four (‘two members and two guests’). “Of course, Posner, but if you have specific requirements, as I assume you do, then making the arrangement a week or two in advance would ensure that every thing would be as you would wish it.” He looked at a folder on his desk. “Zeke twice, I see, and again today. Is he ideal for you?” “Indeed he is, and all four of my party are of similar tastes.” “Four boys for you then?” I nodded, “on 1st May, all night, if that’s possible.” His eyebrows rose. “Coronation Day. Are you a guest there?” I knew that he knew who I was, so I had no reason to deny it. He made a quick decision. “You were wise to mention it today, Posner. We will be very busy. Shall I put your party down for 8pm if you wish to dine here?” “Yes, we’ll be desperate to eat by then.” “A boy, a yellow boy, overnight is normally £1000. Shall we say £3000 for all four of you? As it’s Coronation Day I think we can supply all the beer you might need on the house.” We shook hands. “Oh, one thing,” he said, “are you wanting all of them to be Zeke’s age? Rufus is 20 now – he’s the oldest I would offer you.” I said that Rufus, Zeke and Jeremy would be fine, and a fourth of his choosing would be acceptable. “In that case, Posner, enjoy your time with Zeke, who’s probably bursting now that we’ve kept him waiting an extra ten minutes, and we’ll see your party when Her Majesty had her big day.” Zeke was indeed anxious to get on with it when I went back through to the lounge. “Come on,” he said as he led the way upstairs, “I think I might just hold it in till we get there.” I always enjoy pissing sessions much more when I’m literally only seconds from having no control. I’d once arranged a meeting with Gordon in my room in Fisher and found myself caught the wrong side of a police cordon when some dignitary was in Cambridge. When they finally let us through I knew that I was dangerously close. I also knew that running would only make things worse. My brisk walk got me into College and luckily Gordon had had the wit, when there was no answer to his single knock, to go in and wait for me. Not just wait for me, but to do so sitting naked in the inflated pool. He was as startled by my ripping off my clothes and pissing with great force all over him as I was startled by the unexpected effect of being so uncontrollably full of piss, and how the ensuing fuck was so much more pleasing for both of us. “Wow!” Gordon had said, “was that all just because you needed to piss?” So I knew how Zeke must be feeling as, naked now, I enjoyed being soaked in the kıbrıs escort sunken bath. “Keep some back,” I groaned. “Don’t worry, Pos, I’m a pro, remember. I know you want most of it up you.” “And the same from me.” Ten minutes later he had pissfucked me and, having showered briefly, we were lying on the bed. Before my hour was up we both knew that I would fuck him. Zeke wriggled down. “I need a snack, and I know just the best kind. And if I get fed now you’ll be able to fuck me in half an hour.” It was pushing it, I thought, but when his lips began their quest for sustenance I just let it all happen. As he said, he was a pro. “Before you get going, I still have plenty of piss,” I said. “Good.” We had done this often enough before that we each knew what that meant. Besides, there was always a towel or two under us. After I’d cum it was cuddling time again. “I’m coming again at the beginning of May with Dakin and another two – not a lot older than you. I was talking to your boss about it – that’s why you had to wait. We’re all into yellow, so it’ll be you and Rufus. At lunch I met Jeremy who said he was multi-coloured, so he’ll be with you. I left the fourth boy to your boss to sort out.” “What about Clive? He does yellow as well as brown. I know you liked it that first time. Are any of the others brown bears?” “One could well be,” I murmured, remembering Jack and Dodo’s mate, “but he’s never done it with the rest of us.” “Well now’s his chance, Pos. Lots of punters do stuff with us here they wouldn’t dream of doing at home. Why is Lobster Thermidor like oral sex? It’s a riddle.” I thought for a moment. “No idea, why?” “They’re both smashing but you never get them at home.” “Maybe it’s a heterosexual riddle, Zeke, because it happens all the time in my house. I don’t get lobster that often though.” The fuck was great, but then Zeke’s a pro. As I was warming him up – a process wholly unnecessary but nonetheless nice for both of us – I told him that I’d had lunch with two men who were even now being flogged by Mark. “Takes all sorts,” he said. ***** The other three were pleased to learn that they would be in London on Coronation Day. The Palace had written to say that as I had no Countess they could arrange for up to four guests to have reserved seats in one of the grandstands which would be erected along the route. The obvious fourth invitee was Rivers since he would be driving us to London. I’d already booked hotel rooms for the five of us for a night (two nights in the case of Rivers). Ten days later embossed tickets with their four names on arrived, and I gave them to Dunstable to look after. My ticket had already arrived and been admired. ‘The Right Honourable the Earl of Inchkeith’ had a certain ring to it which neither ‘Dab’ nor ‘Posner’ possessed. In good time on the last day of April I collected my gear from the hirer together with another copy of Billy’s instructions for getting me safely inside it all. “We always like to include a copy with the robes in case the first one had been mislaid.” It had been Billy’s bedtime reading for the last week, but he was itching to get his hands on the clothes themselves. When I bore everything in from the taxi the three of them were keen to see the dress rehearsal. Billy’s homework had proved thorough, and I was cloaked in ermine and admired by all. “Put your hat on,” said Jack. I put him right. “OK, your coronet thing then.” I had to admit I looked quite good in it all. It was while Billy was helping me out of it all again and as he was about to fold it lovingly back in the box that a new aspect of Billy became apparent. He and I had lived together, sharing everything, for over eight years, so it came as a surprise to me, as much as to Jack and Hamish, that Billy was massively turned on by fur. He couldn’t keep his hands off the ermine trim on my robe, holding it up to his face and stroking it. “You are joking, right?” said Jack. He wasn’t. “Can I try it on, Dab, just the cloak?” I saw no good reason why not. “OK, but just the cloak,” I said, “I mean that literally.” Jack and Hamish had the good sense to remain mute spectators while Billy stripped – well, almost mute. I heard Hamish whisper to Jack. “He’s as hard as hell! Is that just the fur, d’you think?” Jack shrugged; Jack whose experience hadn’t run to fetish gear apart from leather. Was being turned on by one lot of the bits of an animal weirder than being turned on by other bits? It was true though: Billy’s cock was 100% at action stations. “Don’t you fucking dare cum on it,” I warned him. Billy wrapped himself in the hired fetish gear, leaving his cock sticking out. His eyes closed. Suddenly I knelt in front of him. There was now no danger of anything untoward splashing onto tomorrow’s finery. We would have to find a way of introducing fur to our household, I decided, because the effect on Billy’s balls was as remarkable as the visible effect had been on his cock. I had sucked Billy off hundreds, maybe thousands, of times but never had he cum so hard so quickly. His hands, which had been stroking the fur round his neck, held my head while he pumped into me. It was rich and delicious. Jack and Hamish gently took the robe from his shoulders and laid it on the bed. Billy, naked, aglow, his cock still in my mouth, had tears streaming down his face. Nobody moved. Then Billy bent over me kırıkkale escort and lifted my head. “I love you, Dab, and that was the most wonderful thing I can remember. Thank you for loving me.” I stood and kissed him, sharing what he had given me. My eyes were wet as well. (It was almost impossible to buy real fur in those days. The ermine trim was real enough, but had probably been sewn on decades earlier. Jack and Hamish eventually found a fur stole in a charity shop in Stoke weeks later and bore it home with as much ceremony as fox hunters must have celebrated a kill back in Bertie’s day. Billy was overcome with joy. The three of us were overcome with essence of Billy. That was the last trip any of us were able to make for several weeks as it took place two days before the Electric War.) The Coronation went smoothly. I was looking forward to sitting next to Hector again, but the man on my left was not he. As we were in place ages before anything happened there was plenty of time for conversation. I soon discovered that, like Bertie, the third Earl of Inchkeith, Hector had managed to father at least one child – the fourth Earl of Quainton. Beyond him was his Countess. The fourth Earl lived with his five children in Somerset. It seemed unlikely with such a display of fecundity that he had inherited his father’s interests. Still, he was an interesting conversationalist. I stroked my ermine absent-mindedly. We were forever bobbing up and down and must have heard the National Anthem a dozen times. When the Archbish put the crown on the Queen’s head we all stuck out hats on (as Jack would have put it). I was glad – holding the damn thing had been a nuisance. Trumpets, a lot of oath-swearing (“Faith and Truth will I bear unto thee” – what on earth did that mean?), a hymn or three, another few National Anthems, and at last we could troop out. Billy made a huge effort back in the hotel and the robes and coronet went back in their box without further ado. We had used Rivers’s room for the unrobing as only he would be staying there that night. I arranged for him to pick the four of us up from the other premises at 9.30 the following morning after he had returned the hired costume. ***** By 7 o’clock I was starving. I’d thought to take a few sandwiches into the Abbey, but they had had to be eaten before things got under way, and that had been several hours earlier. Billy had described what would be happening to the other two, so we were all keen to get on with it. Rather than sit in Rivers’s room any longer I said we should walk to the club – it was a mile and a half away, and that would fill the time until we were expected. With empty bladders and greased arses we set off across Mayfair, still packed with tourists. “Posner and Dakin.” The door was opened by Lionel who greeted us with the news that not only were we expected, but that “your guests will be Timms and Rudge”. Jack said he would be Rudge. “That’s up to you, sir,” said Lionel. We went through into the bar, Jack and Hamish taking everything in. Zeke had been watching the door for us to appear, and as soon as he saw us he came forward. “This way, Posner,” he said, leading us to a table tucked in a corner and placing a pair of menus in front of each of us. “I imagine you two would like to read the smaller one, though Posner had already made today’s choices. Pos, it’s all set as you wanted.” He went off to attend to another table. Jeremy appeared with a large tray which he set down on a shelf. “Two pints each, gentlemen, and there’s more should you want it.” When he’d gone I told the other three that Zeke and Jeremy would be with us that night. Hamish had found Jeremy in the list. “It’s got a picture of him hard! It says he’s up for anything and likes all colours. What does that mean, Dab?” “You’ll see when we go through there after dinner. They wear rather less, but what they wear tells you what they do.” “Don’t tease him, Dab,” said Billy, “in the lounge they only wear leather shorts with a stripe. A yellow stripe means they’re into piss. Red is whipping. I don’t know the others.” “Nor do I, but I can guess,” I said, “brown might be shit. Look in the list – it may have something there.” Hamish resumed his careful study. “White means anything and blue means torture. I don’t like the sound of that. What do you think it means, Dab?” “Being tied up, I suppose. The ones that want to be whipped aren’t the only ones turned on by pain. Not my idea of fun though.” Zeke returned to take our orders. Jack said that he knew there would be four of them with us tonight, but who were the other two? “Rufus and Clive, Rudge.” Hamish studied the list again. “Zeke and Rufus are yellow, Jeremy is white and Clive is brown. Not sure about brown.” I said that our yellow needs were what had led to those four being allocated to us. “I can’t think that brown is compulsory – anybody who does brown is bound to be happy with yellow.” “Maybe Zeke and Rufus don’t do brown,” said Billy, “they can’t put all the colours on the stripe. Maybe they just put the most way out.” I said nothing, being well aware that Zeke wasn’t one to draw the line at brown. I wasn’t bothered, knowing that when we were all fired up with beer and lust the drawing of our individual lines might not be in the same places as they would be were they drawn in the cold light of day. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 119 as a busy night is enjoyed. Drop me a line at net – that is after you’ve dropped a few quid. ===============================================================================