last-of-the-line-106

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Subject: Last of the Line Chapter 106 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 =============================================================================== Chapter 106 If three days earlier Jack, Hamish or I had been asked to imagine what we would be doing in the sling when I reached Inverthrum none of us would have thought of inducting a 15-year-old into the joys of being soaked in it. For joy was as clear to see on Stewart’s face as gallons of piss – his and ours – was on his body. “Fuck!” he breathed, “I had no idea it could be so hot.” Jack leaned over him. “You thought that hot, Stewart? There’s hotter to come. Are you ready?” “How could anything be … aaah!” Jack had inserted a lubed pair of fingers, immediately followed by his cock. Stewart grimaced for a second or two – perhaps the lubing hadn’t been as thorough as it might have been – but when Jack was all the way in a smile replaced the grimace. “Wow! That’s the biggest I’ve had,” he said softly, “I like it here.” “That’s not what I was thinking of,” murmured Jack, “but this is.” Hamish and I knew what was going to happen, so we were both watching Stewart’s face. Emotions chased each other across it: the smile was gone – surprise – amazement – delight – laughter as his rectum gave up the struggle to contain what Jack was pouring into it – astonishment that he kept on being filled – and at last when Jack had finished pissing he looked him in the eye. “That’s the craziest thing that’s ever happened to me. Do you do that all the time?” “We do, and since you enjoy it as much as we do the four of us will be doing it a lot more,” I said, bending to kiss him, “now relax and enjoy what else Jack can do for you. This is the best bit.” Jack pulled out and as expected two things happened. The rest of the piss in Stewart’s arse gushed out and Stewart groaned “no, keep it in”. His wish was met when Jack pushed in again. Once all the way in again he leaned over again. “Fast or slow, Stewart?” he whispered. The answer was immediate. “Slow. I want it to last for ever.” As Jack started to fuck him I leaned over. “There’s two more of us. Do you want one of us to take over when he’s cum?” His eyes glittered, “yeah,” he whispered, “all night if you can.” I grinned down at him. “I’m glad you didn’t kill me.” “So … am … I, Dab.” “On him, not in him,” I said to Jack, “I think he’d like to see it the first time.” I remembered the spectacle of white spunk shooting from a black cock the first time I’d seen it hundreds of years and thousands of cums ago. I knew that when it happened this time Hamish would allow it to be admired for several seconds before he moved to remove it from sight, though not of course taste. This didn’t happen for half an hour, and when it did and Jack sprayed cum onto Stewart’s pissy body it was onto a belly already wet with Stewart’s spunk, shot there some minutes earlier. Hamish and I had sampled a little, but we’d left most of it glistening there, knowing it would be augmented soon enough. When he came Stewart was very voluble. I was glad that he was unconcerned about any feeling of restraint – it made me think he was even more relaxed about being here with us. The one place you can make a noise when you’re being fucked is where you feel safe and happy, after all. He was almost as voluble when Jack pulled out and he saw what happened. It would have been wonderful to see it in slow motion. Jack’s cock was wet and slippery with lube, piss and Stewart’s copious juices; his foreskin was fully retracted, pink against the coal-black of his shaft; his purple cock-head was swollen with the orgasm fractions of a second away; his piss-slit opened to a circle; a jet of thick white spunk appeared; his cock-head contracted for an instant, forcing the jet of spunk to fly from his cock in an arc over Stewart’s cock, half-hard again and wet with piss; the arc landed in a line on Stewart; another arc followed it; another; another; Jack’s cock twitched, lurched; a smaller jet flew, not reaching as far, but landing on Stewart’s cock; a drop appeared but remained on Jack’s cock-head; lips (mine) gathered it, taking Jack’s cock in; lips (Hamish’s) gathered everything that decorated Stewart’s belly, making sure that nothing remained; those lips met Stewart’s where they remained fastened while I placed my cock against the wet gaping arse lips. “Yes, Dab,” he whispered, taking a few seconds from spunk-sharing with Hamish. I didn’t last as long as Jack, but it was still a good 15 minutes before I unloaded in the boy. “Enough,” he groaned., “sorry, Hamish, but my arse is getting sore.” Hamish leaned over and kissed him again. “We’ve got the rest of our lives,” he whispered, “and I’m first in the queue tomorrow.” Stewart nodded. “Is it always like this?” I shook my head. “We all take turns in the sling, Stewart, and next time you get to fuck one of us.” I turned to my companions, “it’s well worth waiting for. He fucked me so hard I pissed involuntarily.” “That’s the first kilis escort time you’ve done that,” said Jack with a grin. ***** Next morning Stewart asked who guarded our boundary. “No-one,” said Jack, “why?” Stewart was amazed that what to him were basic precautions hadn’t occurred to any of us. “How big is your land, Dab?” “About 130 acres if that means anything to you. If you’re being precise I own about 22 acres, but the owners of a big piece of adjoining land are all dead and as far as I know there’s no-one left. So about 30 years ago we expanded – I think that’s the best way of putting it. We’ve grown food here since Hamish and Jack ploughed it up when they were your age. Expanding made sense when growing your own food became vital. We supply the village with a lot of stuff, and they let us have meat, eggs and so on. It works very well.” “But who keeps invaders out? How long is your boundary?” The only way to answer was for him to go and find out for himself, so he and Jack set off. Stewart had his automatic, much to Jack’s amusement. “Have you used that thing?” he asked. Stewart gave him a dirty look. “Deer. 300 metres in the eye. Remember?” Jack looked thoughtful as they trudged off. Two hours later they were back. “And how long is my boundary, Stewart?” “Five and a half k. Two and a half on the track, the rest not even fenced properly. Have you seriously never been attacked?” I looked at Jack. “You two have lived here for ever. Has there been trouble?” Hamish shook his head. “Not for ages. There were a lot of incomers after the Electric War, but they weren’t any trouble. Most of them gave up after a couple of winters and buggered off south again. Two families stayed and they’re still here with their grown-up kids. We’re so far from anywhere that refugees don’t reach us before they find somewhere that will let them stay. Stewart listened to all this. “All the more reason to be secure then.. If it’s as good here as you say then word will get out sooner or later. How do you stop 20 armed men determined to take over?” Jack said, “we don’t, but now that you’re here we should think about it. When I was 15 Dab put me in charge of the planting in this place – it was rushes before then, rushes and about six million rocks. Now that we have another expert 15-year-old why doesn’t Dab put you in charge of defence? From what you told me you have all the experience.” He turned to Hamish. “Stewart will defend us old buggers with his last round.” I was in no doubt of it, and resolved to find out what Jack had learned as they beat the bounds. “Are you serious? Dab, is that what you want me to do?” “Stewart,” I said, holding both his shoulders,” you live here. This is your home now. I have no family except the three people in this room. One day you will be the only one left. When that happens Inverthrum will be yours. So yes, make a defence plan. But don’t do it for Inverthrum – do it for Lairg.” I turned to Hamish. “Did you introduce him to Gregor?” Hamish nodded. “In that case the two of you go and see Gregor and tell him what Stewart is going to do. Stewart, I think it would be a good idea if Gregor knew about the killings. OK?” Stewart nodded, “all of them?” “All of them, and why – that’s the important bit. From now on if you kill you kill for Lairg.” “And Inverthrum, Dab,” he said softly. “And Inverthrum.” Hamish got up. “Come on, Stewart. Once Dab has an idea he wants something done about it.” “Leave this gun,” I said. Stewart glared at me. “Never. Don’t ask again, Dab – or any of you.” The two of them set off down the track. “What will Gregor make of that?” said Jack as we watched them go. “He’ll welcome him if he’s got any sense, and he wouldn’t be the Elder if he didn’t have sense.” Gregor Ross was a man of about 60 whose family had lived in Lairg since Noah landed, or so he maintained to anyone who cared to ask. His father and grandfather had been the local policemen, and when there was no longer any central policing authority (or any other kind of authority) his father had naturally kept his position at the earnest request of the rest of the village. Gregor had merely continued the family tradition when his father died in 2077. Aside from the fact of law enforcement – such as it was – being a family tradition Gregor was ideally suited to keeping order, being about 110 kilos and nearly 2 metres tall. “Did you know about Stewart? I mean the killing?” I nodded, though when I’d done so it occurred to me that in fact I knew very little, other than that he had been only seconds from killing me without seeming to turn a hair. “I know a little,” I said, “but maybe you know more after being out with him.” “He and his brother are the grandsons of the leader of their group.” “Yes, I know. I was at school with him, and that fact probably saved my life a few days ago. Having been at the wrong end of Stewart’s automatic and lived to tell the tale I would trust him with my life now. But if he sees danger he will shoot it without hesitation. With him here we’re a lot safer, even if there isn’t much danger.” “But if danger comes we won’t see it – that’s what worries him. What I said about my being in charge of the change here makes a lot of sense. He comes from a place where respect has to be earned, often the hard way, and he’s desperate to make a difference, and not just in bed. Let him be in charge as I kıbrıs escort was at his age, Dab.” I smiled: it was quite like old times having an enthusiastic 15-year-old anxious to prove himself. “You’d have been number 17, by the way.” I stopped smiling. ***** It turned out that Gregor was delighted. Stewart returned with a request to do for the whole of Lairg and its surroundings what he had begun to do for Inverthrum, “provided you agree, Dab,” he said. “How long will it take? Hamish, how far out should he go?” “Isn’t that exactly the kind of thing Stewart will work out for himself? He’s the expert.” I turned to him. “What do you think?” “I want two men to go with me, and to show me where things are – farms and so on – and I will make a report to Gregor – and you, Dab – about what defences are practical. If we go 10k from the village that’s a boundary of 60-odd k. Allowing for rough ground say 80k. Once I see the geography it may well be less than that – the loch here, for example. Four days should be enough given that there’s only 8 hours of daylight. I’ve to see Gregor with a plan tomorrow if you agree.” I was graciously pleased to accept my military adviser’s input. Later that evening my military adviser accepted my input, together with that of Jack and Hamish. *********** While Stewart is away I must return to 2040 – there’s quite a lot of catching-up to do still. World events didn’t have a severe impact on me – deaths a long way away, however terrible, didn’t change my day-to-day life. Like all my Cambridge contemporaries that year I sat my Tripos in the aftermath of a nuclear war. It seemed a waste of time, since we might all be dead within days, but after three years’ study to have failed to turn up would have been throwing so much away. Henry and Edward were on the back burner for ten days – a position they accepted, knowing that when they returned to the front they would have been simmering nicely, and I would be so starved that our resumption of music lessons would be volcanic. My exams finished on a Thursday afternoon. The boys had been made aware that I was willing to entertain visitors, and at 5 o’clock that day there was a knock at my door. There they were! Henry had a carrier bag which he put down carefully. “This is from us both,” he said, “and from Colin. He said as our lessons were coming to a close that he wanted to give you something to celebrate exams being over.” A gift-wrapped bottle half-bottle was produced. Champagne! I didn’t run to flutes, but I suspected that neither of my guests would know that the wine glasses I produced weren’t ideal for fizz. “I’ve never had champagne before,” said Henry, “is it nice?” Edward, who informed his younger colleague loftily that he had had champagne at an uncle’s wedding, was keen to get stuck in. I was grateful for the gift, the more so because a half bottle was just the right size. Had it been a full one the boys would inevitably had far more than was sensible – as it was they had a reasonable glass each – enough to become thoroughly relaxed and even more uninhibited than usual – and I had two. . The three of us were naked on my bed, glasses in hand. Henry had sampled the brew and it was obvious from his face that he didn’t like it. It was equally obvious that nothing would stop his finishing it – it was, after all, a grown-up thing to do. “I go down for good in three weeks,” I said, “so we’ll have to have a few more lessons to finish off what I need to teach you. Henry, can you be here on Mondays and Thursdays? Edward, Tuesdays and Fridays? I think it would be useful if there were joint revision sessions on Sunday afternoons, don’t you?” .Each of them looked pleased. “I hope you get plenty of rest on Wednesdays and Saturdays,” said Edward, “you’ll need it from the sound of things.” Whether it was the 10-day abstinence on my part (I was sure that the boys, untroubled by exams, had not given their balls a holiday) or the champagne the merriment that Thursday afternoon was spectacular. Edward, experienced in these matters, advised Henry that “if Dab hasn’t cum for ages it’ll probably hit the ceiling” and that for once my delivery should be in plain sight. “You can choose where the next one goes,” he told Henry kindly. My view was not sought on where the second would be, but I was allowed to specify how the first would be obtained. As there was still some champagne in each of our glasses I was in no hurry, and feigned deep thought. This seemed a good opportunity to show them something new. I had fingered both of them but neither of them had fingered me … but why stop at fingers? “Edward, get your right hand covered in lube and put two fingers as far in me as you can.” I made it easy for him by lying on my back with my knees up. “Why him, Dab?” said Henry. “Because his fingers are longer. Don’t worry, you’ll get a chance next time.” Edward obliged then “ugh! There’s a lump of shit.” “That’s not shit,” I said, “that’s part of me – it’s the bit that makes the spunk – well, the liquid bit the sperms swim in.” “So I’ve got one,” said Edward. “All men have and so have boys, but until you start making spunk it hasn’t developed. Now put your fingers in again and feel about gently.” Edward did as instructed and as he rubbed my prostate I could feel things beginning to warm up. “Don’t rub it any more or I’ll cum sooner than I want to. Now listen.” I told kırıkkale escort him about fisting, and how he should make a steeple. “Push in until your knuckles are at the entrance. That’s when I have to push like I’m having the biggest shit ever and when I do you push in – you’ll find your hand slips in easily. Once it’s in as far as your wrist stop, and I’ll tell you what to do.” “You mean you want my hand up your arse? Really?” I nodded. “It feels fantastic, believe me. Later if you want Henry can fist you – that’s what it’s called. My hands are too big for you, but Henry’s are just right.” Henry was interested. “OK, but who’ll do it to me?” “Maybe Edward. His hands aren’t too big. Now come on, I’m ready. Get me good and greasy.” Edward had concentration written all over his face. His steepled fingers went slowly in, his eyes never leaving mine. “It’s OK,” I said, “I won’t split – I’ve done this before.” He pushed and I felt the wonderful stretching feeling I loved so much. “Ready?” Edward nodded. I pushed. “Yes, push!” I groaned and suddenly his hand was six inches inside me, well past his wrist. “Keep it there; don’t move. Get used to the feeling.” Henry was fascinated. “Doesn’t it hurt?” “Not if there’s plenty of lube and the hand isn’t too big. Now, listen, Edward. Push gently further in, slowly, until you feel it won’t go any further. Guts turn a corner and you won’t get round. Go on.” Edward advanced gingerly until he felt the corner. “Bloody hell, I’m in almost up to my elbow!” Henry was intrigued, and from the look on his face he was looking forward to having an arm up his arse as soon as possible. “Now, you two want to see a 10-day cum. Henry, stand by to catch any that drips off the ceiling. Edward, pull your fist back slowly until I tell you to stop.” Edward’s arm slowly retreated. “Stop. Now when I say so twist your whole fist back and forwards as though you’re screwing and unscrewing. Don’t move further in or out.” “God, this is complicated. OK, what does that do?” “It rubs my prostate – that’s the lump – with your knuckles over and over again. Prostates tell balls to do their thing. It won’t take long. Look at my cock – it’s harder than it’s been for ages.” “Go.” Edward screwed and unscrewed. “Faster,” I groaned. “Yesss,” and my 10-day famine ended. “Wooo!” cried Henry. I put my hand on Edward’s to stop him. “Pull out,” I whispered. He admired his handiwork. “And you did all that just by me rubbing your thing?” I nodded, speech being for the moment too great an effort. Henry was already removing the spunk on my face, his lips touching mine occasionally. “It didn’t quite make the ceiling,” he murmured, “but I reckon it went two feet in the air.” I felt Edward’s tongue on my belly, and I relaxed as the two of them went about their harvesting. “That’s the biggest cum I’ve ever seen,” said Edward. “It’s the biggest cum I’ve ever done,” I said, “I’ve never gone 10 days since I first learned how to do it.” “I hope I never go 10 days,” said Henry. “Me too,” said Edward with feeling. When all the spunk had gone (except for some in my hair which Henry said was too much trouble to get out) the two of them lay on either side of me, stroking my body as I was stroking theirs. It was Henry who made the next move. “Can I do you, Edward, fisting, I mean?” Edward seemed unenthusiastic. ” It looked scary when I had my arm up Dab’s arse. How do I know I won’t tear inside?” I tried to reassure him. “Henry’s nails are short, so he won’t injure you. The fattest shit you’ve ever had is bound to be wider than his arm. OK, it probably made your eyes water, but you survived. Don’t you want to have a cum as powerful as the one you just made me have?” Edward wasn’t convinced. “Oh go on, Edward, don’t be such a pussy, my hands aren’t that big,” said Henry, flexing his fist in front of Edward’s eyes. “Will you make sure I’m OK, Dab?” I put my arms round him. “Of course I will, you silly bugger. It’ll hurt for a few seconds – remember how the first time you were fucked it hurt for a few seconds? Well, it’s the same with being fisted.” Edward’s desire to have a memorably spectacular orgasm wrestled with his fear of being ripped open. “OK,” he said at last, “but I’m trusting you both.” “We’ve all been trusting each other for years, Edward,” I said, giving him a ‘how-brave-you-are’ kiss. Henry was already lubing himself. I suggested that Edward should be on all fours. “Doggy fashion is easier for both of you, specially the first time.” Edward carefully got in place. Henry approached and plastered Edward’s arse crack with lube. “Fingers in there, Henry, three to get the lube well up inside.” It was immediately clear that Edward’s arse was no stranger to Henry’s fingers. A left hand reached round to coat Edward’s cock and balls with lube. “Mmm,” murmured brave Edward. I gestured to Henry (out of Edward’s sight) that a steepled hand should make itself felt. “Mmm,” from Edward. “I think he’s ready,” I said quietly. Henry’s steepled fingers pushed until they could go no further. “It’s now or never, Edward,” I said, “are you OK?” “Yeah, I suppose so.” “I’ll count down from three. When I get to ‘go’ push like you need the biggest shit of your life. Henry, you push in hard as far as your wrist. 3, 2, 1, GO!” =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 107 as Edward finds the experience one he wishes to experience again, and plumbing is carried out at Inverthrum. Drop me a line at net – that is after you’ve dropped a few quid. ===============================================================================

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