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‘THE BOY DAVID’ Part one

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4 Review(s) [add review], Author : Czykguy, Part 1 from 3.

‘THE BOY DAVID’ Part one

This is a fantasy and should be read as such

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I first met David when I was fourteen going on fifteen. I was then at Secondary School and I was having a bad time. Don’t let anyone tell you they were the best of days, at least for me they were the worst and I dreaded getting up every morning to go to school. I did not fit in with the all-male environment; I had spent most of my junior years playing with the girls with whom I had felt an affinity and I felt I was now a fish out of water, especially as I did not have any proper friends, at least no-one I was close to.
I had taken to adopting some of my younger brother’s friends as almost mine. Although we were close in age, two years and four months, we had little else in common, but I did have and still do have a great imagination and I could invent games that we could play, often with myself and one other pitted against the others. Games of non-violence, but involved territorial rights and capture of flags, HQ’s or freeing of prisoners and they followed me, not as their leader, more as a provider of ideas which in their collective fashion they adopted or not as they together saw fit. There was no competition to be my-side kick, it was just understood that it was a duty taken in turns with one exception, my brother was never ‘on my side’.
That summer we had got fed up of the park, there was a new keeper who always seemed to be on duty whenever we wanted to play and he didn’t want us ‘messing up the park’ as he put it. The other keeper’s had turned a blind eye to our actions, we were known by them as boys who did not injure trees or plants, we just used the hidden areas and undergrowth and the wild areas to play our games, but this new keeper was not likeable so we did our best to avoid him. As a result of his attitude, that summer we ended up using the local recreation ground to play in.
Known as ‘the wreck’, to differentiate it from all the other ‘Rec’s’ in the borough, ‘our wreck’ was a patch of grassland bounded on two sides by a long high cement covered brickwall. This formed the backwall to the gardens of overlooking houses and was itself distanced from the playground and open area by a concrete path, which followed the line of the wall. The ground between the path and the wall the ground inclined upwards to the base of the wall and was complemented by a line of grassed trees, which provided cover. On the other two sides were spiked railing fences which protected us from traffic bearing roads. There was a line of houses on the opposite sides to the railings, so we were constantly being reminded by parents of the need to be aware of the dangers of traffic. Originally it had been bounded by houses on all sides but with the need to make roads bigger, the community had lost a part of its amenity to progress and the streets had been turned into the busy roads.
The wreck had an area covered in hard tarmac and on this was built the swings and other play equipment. One of the most popular playthings being a pile of cemented pipes that could be crawled through or crawled over; a perfect ‘castle’ and it had a much larger grassy area with a few flower beds near the busy roads, upon which the large scale ball games were played.
We would meet at various times, dependent on mother’s working arrangements and we would be there from morning till late. A game could go on all day and had a fluid cast, as the summer progressed other kids who used the wreck to play in, began to join in and sometimes there would be as many as twenty boys and the occasional girl, joining in the idea, or ‘game’ of the day.
Usually I was the oldest; some lads would leave their younger brothers with me and go off to play in another part of the ground, mostly energetic ball games in which young inexperienced boys were not wanted. Sometimes we would play ball games but these did not require skill and although there were two teams often nothing was scored, we just needed to run and get rid of excess steam. Often I would sit aside to watch as the lads ran around when this happened, my size was an unfair advantage and my lack of any ball skill a personal embarrassing detraction.
I did not know all the new boys by name, but it did not matter, I just allocated people as they arrived, knowing which side was down by number. As time went by I also got to learn the new boy’s skills and talents and would use this to balance the teams. Some I did get to know and David was one of them.
I don’t remember when he first arrived. I do recall what he looked like, as it was often what most looked like. He had short ‘back and sides cut’ blondish hair and a thin face with large blue eyes and slightly darker eyebrows. He wore the regulation shirt, jumper, grey flannel school shorts and grey socks and black shoes. None of your modern day track suit and designer trainers. What we wore to school is what we had to play in, we had to face the consequences if any of it got damaged or ripped. Some were lucky enough to have long trousers or jeans; this depended on how rich your parents were. If you were really rich you wore baseball boots, a recent ‘must have’ innovation from America which is where we all wanted to live. I had tried a pair of these on in the shop but to my chagrin and my mother’s relief I did not have baseball boot sized feet, so I was reduced to last year’s shoes which pinched a bit but in the heat of the game was never an issue.
I think I first became aware of David as an individual one summer day when those that were left were bundled in the ‘dungeon’, one of the cement pipes, when it was raining. Those that had not run for home sought shelter where they could and this was a favoured place, others being under one of the large trees or against a wall where the rain could not reach. These were usually the province of the bigger boys who were very rude and unkind to anyone who dared invade their territory.
I do recall pulling in the boy who was nearest to me so that he could sit on my lap, thereby making room for another body as the rain lashed down. David, for it was he, huddled in close to me and as the others moved in closer to let as many others in, I remember that he smelt nice up against my face and as my hands naturally fell between his legs, I was also conscious of a certain hardness that pulsed gently, as we sat there through the downpour. I also noted that David made no attempt to move my hand, which now cuddled his small erection through his trousers.
The shower over we returned to our game, running wildly through the puddles, splashing each other as well as we could, desperately trying to avoid being splashed in return. Every so often I would stop and look for David, watching him run around with the others, wondering had it actually happened like that in the tunnel. At one point I wanted it to rain as before just in case it could happen again.

At this point in my life I was sexually active if not aware. I usually masturbated daily, it became a go to sleep habit and I had had an experience with my sixteen year old Patrol Leader at a Scout summer camp. Ollie, the Patrol Leader had come into the tent late one night, he had been with the other Patrol Leaders who had slipped off to a local pub where they had all enjoyed the local ‘scrumpy’ cider. It was Ollie’s first such trip to a pub and he had enjoyed himself very much. He was also very unused to alcohol and the scrumpy had affected him greatly.
As I was sleeping next to him, being the junior member of the patrol, I was the one he disturbed when he initially came in. Dozily I watched in the bright moonlight as he tried to undress himself in the confined space and then giving up, went back outside the tent to complete the task. Luckily it was a hot summer and a very warm night or he would have soon suffered from the cold. I sleepily watched him through the tent flap as he managed to get his clothes off and then was woken wide awake as he began to play with his, to me very large cock, it growing even bigger as he masturbated.
I watched entranced as he stroked his cock, just like I did to mine, then he seemed to stagger and lose his balance, having to let go of his cock to steady himself. Again he began to masturbate and again he lost his balance, this time falling to his knees. Immediately I got out of my sleeping bag and rushed to his aid. He was a lot heavier than I was and I found it difficult to pull him up. The scrumpy was increasing its effect and he was giggling and unable to control his movements.
Finally using me as a prop he pulled himself up on his feet and stood swaying slightly, his arm loosely, around my neck. We leant against the tent pole using it as an extra support. Ollie sighed and said, “Thanks,” in a very slurred way, his breath against my face smelt horrible and I assumed that he would now go to bed.
To my surprise, now that he was stable he began to once again stroke his cock. In the clear moonlight I was able to see his cock in great detail and was fascinated as his cock responded to his manipulations. I found myself comparing methods and noted that he spat into his palm and rubbed the very head of his cock into this, to me slimy, mess. I remember thinking that that must feel terrific and longed to try it myself. All at once he swayed and lost momentum. He swore gently and started again only to once again lose control. As he steadied himself, he shook his head and reached for his cock and missed. Again he swore gently and sagged against me, disappointment showing in his face and stance.
“Would you like me to finish it of for you?” I found myself saying.
Ollie turned to me, his eyes glazing without a proper focus, “Would you?” he asked, his words slurred as before.
I nodded in reply and took his cock in my hand and began to manipulate it as I had seen him do. His cock felt odd in my hand but also good too and I began to enjoy what I was doing. I was aware that my own cock was hard and was bulging through my pyjamas. Ollie’s cock felt harder and hotter in my hand and he was moaning gently, his breaths now coming in shorter gasps.
“Faster,” he gasped, “spit in your palm,” he added swaying slightly.
Carefully I spat into the palm of my hand and did as he had done, caressing the wet tip of his throbbing penis in my fist. His cock throbbed harder and his own lubricant now began to leak into and out of my clenched fingers. I pumped harder and faster conscious of his tensing arm around my head and down my arm, urging me on. My own cock had now freed itself and was poking through the fly of my pyjamas, rubbing up against the pyjama cord which despite its roughness felt good against my cock.
Ollie was urging me faster and faster, faster than I had done to myself and I felt his excitement as his climax neared. Suddenly he drew a deep moaning breath and thrust himself forward, his cock spitting forth his sperm. I was conscious of holding my own breath as he ejaculated and elated as his cock threw his sperm far into the night. As he sagged back against me I transferred my hand from his cock to mine and in no time at all my own sperm followed his into the night.
We stood there and then Ollie yawned, “ Bedtime,” he said and I helped him into the tent.
I gave up trying to get him into his own pyjamas, he was just too heavy and limp, in the end I just wrapped his open sleeping bag around him as best I could and slipped back into my own. I fell asleep looking at him lying there and all I could see was his cock spurting, over and over.
It must have been a couple of hours later that I woke up, my cock hard with the need to piss. Quickly, shivering slightly I slipped out of the tent and walked into the wooded area which we used for urinating. Back inside the tent I settled myself down inside my bag and tried to go back to sleep. Again I found myself looking at Ollie and seeing his cock and wondering did it really happen.
As I watched Ollie, stirring slightly in his sleep, I was overtaken with an urge to see his cock once again. I don’t know how long I lay there with this urge, this need growing larger and larger and more urgent until finally I summed up my courage and reached outside my sleeping bag. Tentatively I touched the edge of Ollie’s sleeping bag and then as my need grew even more stronger I slipped my hand inside and began to feel for his cock.
At my initial cold touch against his warm skin, Ollie started but did not make any other movements. Carefully I eased my way down his chest, past his stomach to the first rough feel of his pubic hair. So close to my goal I decided that I wanted to see it as well as feel it, so instead of moving down into his groin, I began to tug the sleeping bag away from his body.
At last the bag was clear of his groin and I was able to see his, now thin cock, nestled amongst his dark forest of pubic hair, slowly moving in time with his sleeping breathing. Almost nose to cock I found myself lying on my side, taking in the heady aroma that rose from his genitals, much more to my taste that the earlier pong from his alcoholic breath. Carefully I smoothed the dormant fleshy strip and watched entranced again as his cock began to rise, gaining thickness and height so that it towered above my head.
The puckered foreskin straightened and flattened as his cock rose to full erection and the pink of his glans could be seen through the opening gap. I began to smooth the foreskin up and down, up and down, each stroke bringing his cock closer and closer to my face until finally I was able to feel the silky smoothness of his cock against my cheek. I could also smell the warm tangy cock aroma that rose even stronger from his groin.
I was then aware that his body had changed its state and worried I looked up from his cock to his face. Ollie was smiling, but he was still asleep and he twitched gently. Assured I went back to my task and began to stroke him gently as before. His cock was throbbing; a live animal and it appeared to be stretching, reaching skywards, pulsating as I manipulated it. I became aware that Ollie’s pelvis was also moving, thrusting slightly upward. Again I checked to find that Ollie was still fast asleep, although the smile had been replaced with a look of sexual tension. I returned to my slow caress of his now throbbing hot cock, noticing that the tip was beginning to glisten as his own lubricant began to leak across the reddening tip.
As I stroked, some of his pre-cum, as I was later to learn what it was called, dribbled down my hand and on to my face. It smelt salty and spicy and for some reason I then did not fathom, caused my own excitement to rise and I felt my own cock throbbing in time with Ollie’s. His thrusting movements were more urgent and I was, at times, out of synch with my manipulation of his foreskin.
I now moved my position so that his movements brought his cock directly into contact with my face, with each simple thrust his cock caressed my cheek. I felt him tense and then with eyes wide open watched as his cock exploded onto my face covering my nose and lips and cheeks with his sperm. At almost the same time, as though his ejaculation was the trigger I felt my own cock shoot, even though I had not touched it at all. I lay there, my head now on his trembling stomach, as his orgasm subsided and the sperm oozing from his cock mixed with that sliding down off my face. At last feeling a happy sleepy sensation radiating through my body, I eased away from him and snuggled down inside my sleeping bag, feeling like I was glowing as bright as the sun if not the moon.
The next morning I woke when the sun broke intermittently through the tent flap as it moved in the early breeze, blinking across my face. Initially I startled, then as the memory of last night thrust itself on my brain I quickly looked at Ollie. He was fast asleep, his body tangled up in his sleeping bag. I looked carefully but his groin area was completely covered. I leaned over him and adjusted the tent flap so that it stayed closed and lay back in my bag trying to get back to sleep. I was lucky. Without the disturbance of the sun I was able to doze back into a fitful sleep until the sounds of a waking camp brought me back to full wakefulness. Again I glanced at Ollie, he was still sound asleep.
Throughout the day I found myself watching him, hoping for some indication of what had happened during the night. It was not to be, although he did take a lot of stick from the other’s who had been with him at the pub. Initially he did suffer from a hangover of some kind but this soon passed and he was able to rebuff some of the remarks that were thrown at him. It was clear however that his memory of what had happened stopped shortly after entering the pub, he was unable to recall anything that had happened after leaving the pub and waking up in the morning. This made me feel both happy and sad.
For me I now took a great interest in cocks, everyone’s cocks and there were a lot on display. As there was a lake in our field we were allowed with supervision to go swimming and as we were isolated we were allowed to swim nude. If you did put on swimming trunks then it was guaranteed that they would be forcibly removed by the others. One boy, Tom did this several times and it seemed to me he did it deliberately so that the others would jump on him and strip him. He did not have an interesting cock; it was thin and worm-like, so I did not pursue any interest in him.
It was also acceptable behaviour to grab each other’s cocks whilst swimming, although I soon learned that you had to be careful if the older boys were swimming. It was OK to make a grab for Ollie if it was a Patrol swim, but if it was a general swimming session then such a contact would result in a severe ducking.
I had no contact with Ollie’s cock for a couple of days and despite seeing it several times, what I wanted was to touch it, to hold it, to stroke it, and see him spurt his spunk again. At night I would carefully toss myself, using my flannel to hide my own spunk, making sure I washed it clean before using it to wash with, but it was Ollie’s spunk I wanted to experience.
Three nights after ‘the night’, I woke up in the middle of the night. Again it was a warm moonlit night and I found myself staring at the lump that was Ollie lying next to me. In the white moonlight I thought I could see the lump that had to be his cock and I found myself tentatively reaching out to stroke the bulge, only to find it was a simple fold of cloth. Unable to stop myself I began to explore his sleeping bag until at last I found the squishy lump that had to be his cock. Carefully I started to squeeze it, feeling it hardening when to my horror Ollie moved and worse of all, woke up.
“Whassermatter,” he said sleepily, his hand appearing out of his bag to rub his eyes. “Oh it’s you,” he said, smoothing back his hair from his face, long hair was the youthful teenage rebellion of the times, “Do you want to go out?” he asked.
I had already removed my offending hand and just nodded my yes.
“Think I’ll go too,” he said, “I need a slash as well.”
With that we both, clad in only our pyjamas barefooted our way to the wood where, whilst I struggled to produce a respectable stream, he easily managed his own waterfall.
“Needed that,” he whispered, waving his cock in the air, throwing the last droplets in a wide circle. “Finished?” he added and again I nodded. We went back to the tent and I fell into a disappointed sleep.
It was another two nights before the boys repeated their trip to the pub. I was well asleep when the noise of their and Ollie’s return woke me. I stuck my head out of the bottom of the tent to investigate the noise that had awakened me. Ollie was being held by three of them and was arguing drunkenly.
“Wana go fer a shwim,” he said, “lerra go, gotta swum.”
“For fuck’s sake Ollie. Don’t be a prat. You can’t go swimming at this time of the night and especially when your drunk,” said Mark one of the older Patrol Leaders and then turning to the others said, “ I don’t believe it. He’s worse than last time when he kept pulling out his prick as we walked along an’ he hasn’t drunk anywhere near as much tonight. I said he’d be a liability. What the fuck are we going to do with him?”
“Put him to bed,” answered Harry, who was holding one of Ollie’s arms. Ollie was still muttering about “schwimmimg” as they discussed what to do.
“Well I don’t fancy trying to get him into his sleeping bag,” said Mark, “we may just as well tie him up to a tree until he’s slept if off. When Bob (the Scoutmaster) sees the mess he’s in we will be for it. Just our fucking luck.”
At this point I spoke up, “I’ll do it,” I said.
The boys spun around at the sound of my voice. Cries of “whose that?” and “what the fuck?” and “Christ you scared the shit out of me!” were thrown at me as I exited the tent and went to join them.
“It’s OK,” I explained, “I got him to bed last time and I’ll be able to do it again. Just leave him with me.”
Mark was not so sure but as the other’s all wanted to get into their beds he finally gave in. “You sure you can manage him shrimp?” he asked.
“Yes, Yes,” I said, “I did him last time and I’ll be able to do him again. It’s OK I’ll manage.”
They left whispering their thanks and goodnights and I as at last left with a muttering Ollie.
“Schwim,” he said.
“No,” I said and grabbing him by his cock which I noticed was showing through his open flies, “Lets have a wank instead,” as I grabbed him his cock started showing signs of interest.
“OK,” he said and soon I was once again holding him up naked by the tent door, working his thick cock. All too soon he was thrusting into my spit-covered hand, shooting his load through my fingers. Quickly I dropped my pyjama bottoms and rubbed my throbbing cock against his slimy throbbing organ, covering him with my own spunk.
Now docile I manoeuvred him into the tent and arranged him on his sleeping bag so that I had complete access to his body. I also removed my pyjamas so that we were both naked. Whilst he lay back sleepily I began to work on his cock again longing to experience the sensation of him exploding onto my face. It did not take too long before his sperm was dripping down my face and onto his oozing cock. Such was the height of my excitement I found myself rubbing myself against his groin until I too shot a second heavy load.
I lay on top of him for what seemed like ages and then wanting to see his cock again I resumed my position and began to stroke his squishy lump again. To my surprise he did get erect again though not as hard as before and it took a long time before he ejaculated a small amount of semen, which mostly bubbled rather than shot out. I wiped it over my face, revelling in his smell.
The next morning like before he had no memory of what had happened and he suffered a much longer period of hangover. The others like the previous time ribbed him mercilessly and also included me as his nanny. He gave me a couple of odd looks but took the ribbing in good part and was soon back to his old self.



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