I hauled him up from the tub with both hands, delighting at the sight of his lovely wet bottom as it rose from the water, squeaky-clean and rosy from the heat. The cakes were clenched together in defensive resistance to what we both knew was coming, and the drops of water spilled down his back toward the crack between his cheeks and, finding their access barred, rolled over the mounds of his gorgeous ass instead of nestling between the hot-cakes themselves. Well, water droplets might not get in to that rosy preserve, I thought, but I certainly would. And what's more, I knew he wanted me to. His _c_o_c_k_, bloated now and spreading away more and more from the patch of wet hair above the roiled-up balls, told me so.
But I was gonna make him beg for it first.
I reached in front of him and grabbed the now rigid and throbbing _d_i_c_k_. He started, tried to remove my grip with his free hand.
What's this, now, kid?. I grinned. A pistol, isn't it? And rarin' to be fired off? He struggled more, but I held him easily. Still , I mused, It isn't the pistol that interests me, so much as that cute little holster you got back-stairs.
With that, I grabbed his ass with my free hand. I felt the hot flesh cupped in my palm with rising excitement. The kid's ass was hairless, smooth -- but firm, muscled, well-rounded, like a ripe melon cut in half. I ran my hand along its contours, caressing his butt-cheeks with my open palm.
I let my hand drop into the warm, soapy water of the tub for a moment, and then, furiously, so fast he couldn't have seen it coming if he'd wanted to, I raised my open palm and brought it down, fast, against his butt. The splat! of my wet hand smacking his cute ass cut the air. He yelped and squirmed, but I held tight. In the glowing lamplight, his buttocks burned with a rosy red as the imprint of my hand on their hairless contours began to deepen. I raised up and brought my hand down once more. Splat! A second blotch of red began to form on his golden cheeks. My _c_o_c_k_ rose to an even greater height. And when I raised my hand once more to strike his red-hot butt, he pushed it back toward me, meeting the blow. I glanced at his penis -- rigid now, hard and throbbing. I grinned, and hauled him up out of the tub.
Before he had time to think of anything to do in his own defense, I sat back down on the stool and threw the boy belly-first over my lap. I placed a firm hand on his damp back and adjusted my legs slightly so that his buttocks parted. Placing my free hand on his slightly red backside, I felt it drying. Well, this wouldn't do at all.
I dunked my hand back into the tub and brought it up full of warm water, which I poured over his naked ass. After I'd applied a couple more handfuls of the water to his rump, I cupped his cheeks again. Dripping wet now. Perfect.
What the hell d'ya think you're doin'? , he squealed.
Somethin your daddy should've done a long time ago, kid.
I raised my hand up high and brought it down -- hard. His soaking wet assflesh responded beautifully, and the wet splat! echoed sharply in the dark kitchen.
Owwwwwww!!! , he cried, squirming. Cut it out!
"It's either my hand or the switch I cut off one of Mrs. A's trees, kid. I can go either way."
With satisfaction, I noticed that his butt was turning a deeper red, so I hit him again, square across both cheeks. Splatttt!!
No! Ow! Don't! Stop it!
"You want the switch?"
"No! No, god_d_a_m_n_it!"
"All right then," I smiled, and layed into his butt with a series of well-aimed blows that landed all over his squirming bottom. He was writhing now, desperate to get away, and I held him down tightly. I began to spank him faster, harder. His _c_o_c_k_ was thumping against my leg, and his balls were bobbing delightedly as the wet blows struck over and over against his naked ass. His buttcheeks burned a deep red, and after about ten more blows, the last five low on his ass just above his thighs, I stopped spanking him and lovingly touched the fevered redness with my hands, gently caressing their plump contours.
He'd stopped struggling long before now, and I could feel the flesh yield to my touch. Testing the limits of his acceptance, I licked my index finger, spreading as much saliva over it as I could. Then I pried his buttocks apart and slipped my slick finger between their heat. He sucked in his breath but did not try to resist, and when I pressed my finger inward, glancing against his pucker, he jumped slightly, gasped, and I felt the rippled flesh spasm against my finger.
But he didn't tell me to stop.
So I went on, applying gentle pressure against his hot man-cunt. Finally, relaxed, it opened enough to allow my digit to slide into his heat. He moaned openly then, turning his head toward me. I leaned over and put my lips against his ear. Lapping at his lobe, I pushed my finger in further, digging inside his treasure-chest, and when I was fully embedded there, I slid my tongue inside his ear and licked it while moving my finger back and forth inside his warm asshole. Each new assault brought a heaving, raspy shudder of breath, and I moved my lips to his mouth with its wide, luscious lips and kissed him hard.
The boy kissed me back, hungry, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth while I finger-_f_u_c_k_ed his responsive butt. When I slid my finger out again, he shook with a tremor of _s_e_x_ual heat, and then turned away again, fuming silently.
It's okay to like it, I said, laughing.
His pretty face pouted, the nostrils of his wide, button nose flaring.
I don t like it. No one's ever gonna say I do.
Right, I thought. I leaned over and picked up the bar of soap floating in the tub. I ran my hand over it, soaping up.
Then I pushed two fingers up his butt.
He jolted as if bitten by a snake, relaxed, and -- despite himself -- cooed and grunted in time to my rhythmic explorations; I thrust my fingers up his hot backside and withdrew them slowly, feeling his pucker clamp down on them. Wriggled them almost out of his clean little bung-hole, then shoved them back up the now open tunnel again, fast, hard, faster, harder, letting his toned-up moaning direct my pace. I found the knot of his joy-spot and massaged it gently, reaching beneath him and grabbing his fat _c_o_c_k_, hard now and pulsing like a live thing in my hand. With soapy fingers, I slid the skin back from the hood of his uncut pecker, then pushed it back over the rosy tip. He gasped.
Okay, kid , I murmured in his soft ear. Keep on tellin' me how much you hate it. Your _d_i_c_k_iebird tells me otherwise.
He had no answer for a moment, so I slid the skin back and forth over his _c_o_c_k_-head, releasing a glistening drop of cum. Meanwhile, my busy finger pried his twat, teased his hole, _f_u_c_k_ed his butt. Then, softly, with anguish and _s_e_x_ual need giving his voice a throaty burr: _s_h_i_t_ -- aw, _s_h_i_t_. _s_h_i_t_. _s_h_i_t_. Aw, _f_u_c_k_, man. _s_h_i_t_.
I pulled out.
Picking him up again, I deposited him back into the tub.
He shuddered then, his body relaxed into the water, and I turned away. I reached over to the pantry and, with my back to him, casually withdrew a can of cooking grease and dropped it in the bubbling pan of water on the stove. I crossed my arms and waited. Slowly he turned around, his eyes asking why I'd stopped. My answer was to hold his eyes with mine and, smiling, take the warmed-up jar of grease out of the pan. I thrust my fingers into the hot, viscous grease, globbing a goodly amount over them. Then I advanced toward him, and without warning, shoved two oily fingers up his backside. The warmth of the grease made him gasp, and I pushed up as far as possible, teasing him open, finger-_f_u_c_k_ing him first slowly, then faster. Abruptly, as his breathing grew raspier and quicker, I withdrew and went back to the stove, crossed my arms and waited.
I let him stew in the bath while I took my time waiting. Then I began to hear the sound of him beating off in the water. I made my voice hard, a barking command.
Take your hands off that _d_i_c_k_ now!!
Silence. Then:
Pard, I --
Yes?
My hands oiled up and reaching for my throbbing, bouncing prick.
You gotta -- gotta --
I gotta what, kid?
You gotta -- I mean, don't - don't stop.
This, muttered in a tone almost inaudible. But hear it I did. Still, just for emphasis, I snapped out:
What was that, kid? What'd you say?
I said --
What, kid?
I said --
What?
Don t stop, _d_a_m_n_it!
Don't stop, you say? And here I thought you didn't like it.
I --
You what, you little punk?
I was -- I was lyin'.
You were, huh? (What a surprise.) Well, now. Lyin' about --what?
About -- oh, god, I gotta -- oh, please, pardner --
Lyin about what?
About -- about not likin' it.
Not likin' what?
(Hoping this can resume soon, as my _d_i_c_k_ is dribbling cum and I long to have his ass kissing it.)
Likin' -- well, I --
Spit it out!
(Not acting now: I want his butt-crack around my _c_o_c_k_ so bad I can hardly stand up.)
_d_i_c_k_s up my ass!! I like it, I do - I want -- oh, god, I ain't never -- never wanted any such a thing before so much in my life as I want that big pistol in me!
You're no virgin, then. Are you, kid? I mean, for _c_o_c_k_?
No, no, I ain't! I admit it, god, I admit it --
How many you had, kid? Huh? How many other pricks you had up that tight little twat?
I -- I don't --
I smacked his ass with my palm, hard. He yelped. But by now, I knew he liked it.
You remember. A man doesn't forget a thing like that. You remember, you little bastard. Tell me!
You gotta --
Smack!!
Wait! I'll tell! First was my brother's, we was just kids, but --
How many times he _f_u_c_k_ you, kid?
He reached down to grab his _c_o_c_k_, desperate for release. I brushed his hand away.
Every night! Every night since he was 13.
An' how old were you then, kid?
No answer.
Smack!!
Twelve! I was twelve!
(The interrogation somehow excited me as much as his splendidly naked ass. As well as giving me the proof I'd sought.)
You ever _f_u_c_k_ him? Huh, kid?
Yeah! Plenty o'times!
You like _f_u_c_k_in', or bein' _f_u_c_k_ed better?
Bein', bein'!! Now, _f_u_c_k_ me, please!
As badly as I wanted to give him his wish (and mine), he'd been such a _s_h_i_t_ty little punk, my desire to humiliate him and prolong his agony of desire won out over my burning need to _f_u_c_k_ him.
I don't think so, kid.
Silence, heavy with despair. Then:
W-what -- whattaya mean?
I mean, I don't think I will now.
C'mon, pardner -- please!
The little ass pushed up further, parting anew, velvety pucker quivering, puckering, opening and closing like a crazy flower. I had to give it to him -- the kid knew how to torture me as keenly as I was now driving him nuts. The red, palm-marked and steaming buttocks wiggled. His hands moved back to his cheeks and drew them open. An index finger squirmed its way to the greasedup hole and dug itself inside.
All right, kid, I managed to gasp this out in a poor imitation of toughness. The kid had me just where he wanted me, and I gave up trying to prolong his heat.
I turned back to the stove and thrust my hand once more into the jar, removing a glob of oily cream and slavering it up and down the length of my _d_i_c_k_. He pulled his finger out of his butt then and moved his head around and as I walked back to him, my prong glistened in the dim light, the grease making it stand out like a big, pulsing fire in the night.
His eyes on it, scared, startled, desiring. He turned around then, gripped the tub and threw his hot ass up, spreading his legs. His buttocks were wide open in the air before me, pink hole twinkling with grease and winking, his hot young body leaning over the side of the tub, his _c_o_c_k_ pressed against it, his sweet round ass steaming from the hot water, cheeks parted. Open. Primed and waiting.
I got in the water, slapped each burning cheek in turn with my palms. He yelped. I grabbed his cheeks and kneaded them, prying them apart, exposing his lubed-up pussy. I moved my _c_o_c_k_ toward his hole, guided it to the opening, lifted my hips, and it slipped inside like a hand in a well-worn glove. Velvet. I nearly swooned, it was so hot.
Then I _f_u_c_k_ed him like it was the last _f_u_c_k_ either of us'd ever have.
Jerking his _c_o_c_k_ in my hand, yanking on his balls while I drilled his backside. Slamming it to him, slapping his hot, wet ass with my hands, my balls bouncing off the twin pillows while my _c_o_c_k_ went up under his heart, back again, out and in, spearing him hard and fast and with force, hottest ass I ever -- oh, my gawwwwwwwddddddddddddd!!!!! -- and as I come, he gets there too, and we go over the top together, his man-pussy squeezing every drop out of my raging _d_i_c_k_, my cum geysing out with every new contraction, his rod spurting like a pump, spraying the side of the tub, searing my hand with white lava.
He fell forward into the water then, and I fell with him, still embedded in his butt. He rotated his body around, still connected to my slowly deflating prong until we were facing each other. Then he gripped the sides of my head and pulling me to him, kissed my lips in gratitude. As my _c_o_c_k_ slipped its gradual way out of his delectable butt-hole, I held his body to mine and returned his kisses.
Later, drying by the fire in the lobby, his head against my breast, he told me his real name -- Billy -- and his story. How his brother had gotten a farm-girl pregnant and married her, but continued seeking out his younger sibling's sweet ass until the wife caught them in bed; she'd told Billy to make himself scarce or she'd scream it to anyone who'd listen. He'd left home with his colt and little else. After a couple of months spent in fruitless prospecting, he'd made a small discovery of gold but two drifters had caught wind of his find and stolen it from him in the night, along with his colt. The next morning, he'd given chase and managed to get his colt back, but nothing else. By then, he'd given up. Angry, hurt, disappointed, he'd ridden into town without a penny, hoping to find a job. His sullen attitude was genuine, I realized, and his story moved me.
As I kissed his grateful lips, his young penis stirred against my leg and we retired to my room for the night, during which he showed me with tender feeling that in the act of _s_e_x_, his expertise was not limited to the passive.