Sins of the Cities of the Plain (3 page)

     Laying upon my belly there in my bed, an overstuffed pillow set in the crook of my pajama swathed thighs, I thought again as usual about Jerry. He had visited recently, and I recalled being quite surprised by his rate of growth. He had towered now nearly six foot, and was still quite skinny, save for where his arse and bosom had queerly softened and grown somewhat plump. The look of him was had very nearly struck me as comical, though I knew better than to point out the obvious by then; but at the same time, secretly, I found his body aesthetically pleasing. I could not help but gaze at him at every hidden opportunity, but this time no one took any notice of my hungering looks.

     But there that night on my belly, I was not thinking of Jerry’s friendship, but of his girlish body and what I might do with it, had I my way about him. Why, I thought, I would bind him with twine, so that he might not have a swing at me as I taunted him; and then, with preternatural power I would bring him to his knees, that I might tower over him and rub his pouting, girlish lips with the tingling palms of my hands. Then I would tease him and humiliate him about what a sissy boy he was, and how he looked like a big, lanky schoolgirl with his strange little bust and his chubby arse. I would taunt him until he fairly blubbered and cowered before me, and tears flowed from those great, tea saucer brown eyes and stream down over his soft cheeks. This, I mused, would put a crack in my hard heart, and I would final relent and comfort poor bound Jerry with gentle caresses, and, perhaps even kisses.

     Thus did I spend for the first time in my young life! At first I thought I was having an accident in my bed, and that I was pissing my sheets having forgotten to urinate before retiring. But such was not the case. When I thought of kissing Jerry, it fairly made my somehow over-inflated pego suddenly explode, causing me a world of pleasure which bordered upon dementia in addition to the horrific possibility that I had peed in my bed at such an advanced age. The electric orgasm shot gobs of pure, virgin spend into my blankets, to be mashed and spread about by my trembling belly. It was positively wonderful; I would be veritably addicted for life.

     Once or twice per annum, when our families gathered on holiday or for a visit, I would make certain to bed near Jerry, the better to inspect the ongoing process of his physical development. Rarely was I disappointed. Why, I can recall one time when Jerry had come for a visit; he was positively miserable, as his mum and dad had set him to work in the fields in the hopes that a harder labor would toughen his demeanor, and perhaps firm up his quite by-then lady-like appendages. They were correct, of course, and my cousin for the first time had grown somewhat larger with firmer teats, a thicker neck and a solid musculature.

     Late at night, while lying side by side in bed, I told him that I greatly admired his new physique; that he should be happy of it, and looking forward to baiting girls with such a body. And yet while he thanked me and appreciated my honest and uncruel sentiments, he confessed that he positively loathed the work in the fields, and that the other farmers teased him and recited nasty jokes in his presence, and at times have even mocked having him for a woman sometimes while in seclusion.

     As dear Jerry related these things to me, there in the darkness, I found my hand sliding down into my pyjamas, nearly of its own accord, to quietly begin frigging my blown up pego. Perhaps it was in the pitch of his voice, somewhat higher and more lilting than a man his age should possess. And perhaps it was in the tales of his being teased and taken by the other farmhands which riled my private lusts. Whatever it was, as cousin Jerry sang his woes, I shot several dizzying loads of spend, quite beyond his notice, into the bedclothes near him.

     Time next, but a few months later, I saw that his pleas had been finally heeded, and he had been taken out of his own family’s fields. He had rapidly restored his body to its softer and more womanly contours, though I kept my teasing to a minimum, lest I risked his abandoning our nighttime reveries. That eve, as I pushed our bed chatter toward elements which inspired and inflamed my young and inexperienced loins, I found myself inching closer to him under the covers.

     “—Oh, no, dear Jerry,” I said, mustering all the rare honesty I possessed and thrusting it into the tone of my voice. “I do believe that some of that firmness you developed on your sojourn to the fields has still remained with you, about the regions of your bosom, just here.”

     “Hmm,” said Jerry. “I should truly think not, Jack. Go ahead and have a feel if you like. Not a bit of muscle left, I’m afraid. Soft as a baby’s bottom.”

     To my youthful mind, this would be the culmination of many a waking dream that ended in great wet spots on the sheets or somewhat encrusted pyjamas in the morning. I reached forth and felt the warm, soft fleshiness of his chest, running my fingers over each side, and squeezing up the fleshy excess in my palm.

     “I will bet you are right indeed, cuz. Have you given thought to a regimen of calisthenics or some other form of exercise?” My pego was positively alive and dancing about my waist. I truly wanted to rub it against him, push it and shove it against him ‘till it exploded; but I was too shy and it was beyond my experience to manipulate such a tableau.

     My curious and trembling fingers did manage to creep down his chest and over his belly, as he spoke in response, down to the drawstring of his pyjamas, even as I managed to begin a furious if undisturbing frig of my own self on the sly.

     Jerry stiffened abruptly as I pulled at the string and unmade it, then allowed my wandering and mischievous fingers to reach within to have a grope at the mystery between his thighs. To my sheer delight it came awake immediately in my fingers, and I began to frig him with mindless abandon.

     He moaned and trembled under my raw and unskilled efforts; and I nearly burst with laughter at how much terribly smaller he, who was older than I by some years, was when compared to my own endowment. Still I frigged him, and with a squeal he spent a streaming load upon himself, brief moments after I had initiated the evening’s attack. To my great disappointment, he turned over and quickly set to, snoring, and I had to gratify myself quite on my own.

     Rarely did I see Jerry thereafter, as his family moved further away, and when they did come for a visit, he used his elder position to hold up later than I, and spend the evening clucking with the women, whilst I lay in bed on my own and fell to sleep. Then I would not see him for a number of years, as my life would take several interesting turns, and his would settle into one of typical boredom.

     About three years afterwards, when Jerry was a married man, happening to be left alone with him for a short time one day, I recalled that initial incident of my unabashed curiosity to his memory. In fact I believe he never forgot it, as he used to regard me with a most peculiar kind of look from time to time.

     How he blushed at first: but putting my arms ‘round his waist, I asked him to kiss and forgive me, if it was such a long time ago.

     “You know, Jack, I will. You were such a tit then,” he replied, as he permitted me to take the kiss.

     “But, Jerry, I love you so, and am as curious as ever. Can you forgive that?”

     His eyes looked anywhere but in my face, as he blushed and seemed deeply moved. Knowing I was quite onto something, I redoubled my osculatory attentions, using what skills I had picked up over my many escapades ‘till then. Cooing and chatting, taking to the brandy held in the cupboard for special occasions, fairly soon enough I had raised quite a storm of desire in both our heaving bosoms.

     He was married to a rather old and ugly woman, whose money had caught the silly butterfly, who thought that wealth alone could secure happiness.

     You may guess the result. A friendly sofa was at hand. We sank down upon it, and, in spite of his pretended resistance, I not only investigated the shaft of love but got it into me. He was one of those smooth and quietly lustful men one occasionally meets with, and when he had once tasted the fine root I introduced into his arse (which was already quite ripe to receive my spendings before Mr. Pego could even present his head), he could scarcely ever be satisfied!

     In fact, we ran awful risks. When I was stopping in the house he would leave his wife asleep and come to my room, and when he had fairly fucked me to a standstill, would suck my prick, slap my arse, bugger me with his finger, and do everything he could think of to get even a tenth or eleventh go out of me. Never did we discuss those nights in my bed chamber, nor even did we attempt to fathom how we had fallen so quickly to carrying on in our present circumstances. We simply had a lark for some months, then, and it would be myself who gradually moved on to other adventures.

CHAPTER III. Instructions in the Art of Pleasure

     Not long after my initial encounters with Jerry, I was sent to a college at Gloucester. Here we all those who boarded, as I did, slept by twos in abed.

     Well do I remember the first night! My bedfellow, was a senior named Freeman, and at once he began to handle me all over as soon as the lights were out. His hands soon found my cock, which, as naive as I was of the notion, was a fine one—somehow it was already stiff.

     “My eyes,” he whispered, “you’ve got a good’un. Feel mine; it is hardly bigger than yours,” as he directed my inexperienced hands to another equally stiff prick.

     “Rub it up and down,” he whispered again; “that is what we all do. Do you like it?”

     My body was in a tremble all over, and presently, as I continued the up and down motion of my hand on his cock, it was wetted all over with a warm, slimy kind of stuff which he shot into my hand.

     “We call it spendings, Jack,” he whispered. “It’s so nice. We often put our cocks in each other’s bottoms, and spend there. Would you like to try that on me?”

     “Oh, no, Freeman,” I whispered back in all my innocence. “I believe that idea quite daft, a bum is for droppings and was never constructed to do otherwise.”

     “Don’t be such a ninny, young Jack,” he taunted. “Surely you’ve frigged yourself for some years now, haven’t you? Well, then, I see by your face that you have, as have we all; but now it is high time for you to put yourself to the test. No go ahead and promise me that you will do it to-night. Promise me you will put that fine cock up my bum. You will not regret it!”

     I stalled and wondered. This was so unlike my earlier manoeuvres with Jerry, I thought. Never had I imagined fucking an arsehole, though by that time, I was most familiar with the doings of men and women in the dark of night; I was a young man, after all.

     Still, a hole was a hole, and heaven knows I had tried others, and Mr. Freeman did sound so terribly enticing.

     “Very well, Freeman,” said I, a small thrill of butterflies building once again low and deep within my belly. “I shall promise to try this strange little act of yours.”

     “Good show, friend Jack!” he cried.

     He turned his bum to me, and wetting both his hole and the tip of my affair with spittle, he himself directed my cock to the place, and pushed out his arse towards me.

     I did my best by shoving, and somehow it seemed to come quite naturally, really. I soon got in, and found my prick for the first time in a deliciously moist, warm, and tight sheath.

     “Push in and out, in and out,” he whispered, suiting the action of his rump to his instructions.

     I liked it immensely, and clung with my arms ‘round his buttocks, working with all my will, ‘till at last a sudden thrill seemed to come upon me with a kind of shooting sensation in my cock. We both stopped out of breath, as if something had happened, and I suppose that was my first spend with another man.

     The other boys seemed all very quiet that first night, but the next evening, as soon as we had retired to our room, Freeman at once introduced little Jack to the other half-dozen occupants of our room (there were four twin beds) as a highly fit and proper chum.

     “See, boys, what a fine prick the little fellow has got. He fucked my arse all right last night,’ and had his first spend,” he said, lifting my shirt and exposing my affair.

     They all crowded ‘round to handle and admire what they called a wonder for such a little’un.

     Presently all were quite naked, each prick was stiff, and we compared one with another. The next thing was to draw lots who should have my bottom first, and luckily for me the boy with the very smallest prick in the room drew the desired prize. He was eighteen, but such a pretty fair little fellow that I quite loved him at once.

     His first action was to come and kiss me, then with one arm ‘round my waist, stood belly-to-belly with me, and rubbed his much smaller prick against mine.

     Just then one suggested that unless we blocked up the window the light of the candles we were using would betray us, so they took a couple of blankets off the beds, and put them up so as effectually to darken the windows.

     The next thing was to make me lean over the bed on my face, so as to offer my bottom fairly to the attack of my young lover; they next took a little pomade from a pot, and put some both on my little hole as well as upon the head of his prick.

     Being small, there was not much difficulty about his getting in and he soon began to afford me great pleasure especially when, putting his arms ‘round to my front, he began to frig my stiff member.

     Looking ‘round to see all that was going on, I found my lover also had one in his bottom, and the whole of them soon formed a perfect string in action, each one in the bottom in front of him, forming a fleshy chain of eight links. There seemed quite a kind of electricity about it, as I fancied I felt all the pricks in my bottom by turns, and when at last it came to the spending crisis, one and all came together with cries of delight, whilst I also bedewed the hands of my partner with a few drops of spend, as I almost fainted from excessive emotion.