Punk Kids or Brett's Big Boner 4

Disclaimer: If you are not yet 18 years of age, or if it is illegal to read materials of this kind where you live, then please stop now. This story is for adults, and contains descriptions of sexual activity between teenage boys initiated by them and with older men. This story is completely fiction, all descriptions and names are also made up, and any similarities are truly just that, purely similarities. I do not engage in or condone sexual activity between adults and teenagers which is regulated by law. These are fantasies for sexual private sexual enjoyment, not for emulation in real life.

I have not had the opportunity to write a major story, with the exception of one in collaboration with a colleague whose writing I admire. My stories are posted on Paulie’s Personal Web Site and on ASSGM.com. I would appreciate comments on my writing which may be a bit rusty. I certainly admire the good writers on the web, and consider myself still a learner. Please contact me at [email protected].

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Brent and Amy’s Raging Hormes

In the meantime, Brent McDermott and Amy Keller were exploring teenage sex in careful steps as they contemplated eventually sharing a real fuck. Brent could not get enough of his fingers diddling Amy’s itchy pussy and her stiff teen clit. There was something intoxicating about being able to make Amy cum, to feel her tits go stiff, and to make her splay her legs as Brent’s thick digit diddled back and forth and up and into Amy, causing her to squeal and squirm deliciously. Amy’s sweet All-American looks, and her innocent girl next door appearance belied a horny cunt. She prayed for forgiveness each night, but her own fingers played a constant drum beat between her sticky cunt lips, rubbing and probing until they settled on her bumpy clit, strumming it to sweet satisfaction, and often to three or four orgasms. Coupled with timely pinches of her thick nipples, Amy could dream of Brent’s cock, drilling her to sweet oblivion as she thrashed in her bed each night, stifling her grunts and groans as her fingers slid in and out of her pussy, so that her parents would not hear .

What no one new, not even Brent, was that Amy had learned about her cunt from the family Priest. At twelve, she had become a volunteer at St. Bridgette’s Catholic church, the one her parents attended and where she and her brother had their first communions. The youth pastor, who also provided the first confessions to Amy and her brother Kyle, was a young and handsome recent graduate of divinity school, Father Andrews. Amy was head over heels in love with the young Father, her pre-teen crush not taking into account that Priests were not allowed to marry. It did not matter to her, Father was so handsome, his dark hair and deep blue eyes and athletic build seemed to radiate sex to a girl whose periods had just begun and for whom her clit was now emerging as a source of pleasure even if she did not understand why. Suddenly riding her brother’s bike was uncomfortable, the bar riding between her cunt lips and touching something there that tingled and ached until she got off the bike. And when she showered, it seemed like cleaning her pussy was not longer routine, as that spot at the top made her shiver and close her legs together whenever she touched it. Once in the bath, she had taken the rope-soap and run the cord between her legs, and felt the burning pleasure when the cord rubbed back and forth over her clit. She had kept running it back and forth until her body shivered and shuddered, and her pussy contracted. That first orgasm was magical, and she had not repeated it often. But every time she let her fingers stray to her pussy, that feeling would start and when she thought of Father Andrews, it would start without her even touching herself.

Little did Amy know that Father was an equal opportunity lecher. In divinity school he had learned the pleasures of sex from an older brother of the order, and many nights his thick 7 inch prick was masturbated or sucked into oblivion by the man, his legs spread up and to his chest, a finger drilling into his firm ass, helping him to squirt gism by the quart into the talented fist and the voracious mouth of his mentor. Now free of the order, but chained to his vows, Father Andrew could not resist the temptations of lovely girls and boys over whom he had authority. The firm young boys’ bodies and the sweet cunts of the girls lured him to seduce them, and teach them as he had been taught at the divinity school.

It began for the Keller family with Kyle. At fourteen, his hormones were bursting out, and he often felt the need to share his sins in the confessional. Father Andrew was so willing to forgive him, but made him provide every detail of his fantasies, and what he did to himself. Eventually, he persuaded the young teen that the only absolution could come from showing the offending member and having its intrinsic sin washed away with holy water. Right in the confessional, Father Andrew had found a way to remove the screen that separated him from those on the other side, and within a month, Kyle’s thick five inch cudgel was hard and dripping through the opening in the confessional wall, its offending potency being stroked and bathed by young Father Andrew with “holy water” and some slippery substance that made Kyle gasp and grunt as the Father’s fingers danced up and down his shaft. For two years, long after he knew that Father Andrews was using him for sex, Kyle made sure to go to confession at least once a week, if not more. There his fat tipped prick was sucked and stroked into submission and he was able to shoot wads and wads of boy spunk to keep his blue balls under check.

Little did Kyle know that he was not the only member of the family getting special attention from the Priest. Within a month of starting in on Kyle, Father had Amy’s panties at her ankles, her ass bent towards the screen, and his fingers slavering in and out of her pussy, pinching and stroking her clit into series of sweet cums. Amy had to bring a towel to stick in her mouth, otherwise her squeals would have resulted in losing her weekly masturbation at the hands of the handsome Father. He even rubbed his prick against her pussy, and squirted his juice on her more than once. But he had never penetrated her, not wanting to leave a trail of lost virginity leading back to him. He had, though, obtained a sweet vibrating French tickler that he used on Amy and other girls and boys who surrendered to him in the Confessional booth, and Amy could not get enough of the ribbed and spiked device, rubbing back and forth against her swollen, soggy labia and the always itchy clit.

Now that she and Brent were dating, she had stopped seeing the Father for her weekly sessions, but it made her all the more horny for her boyfriends thick finger and the magical use of his tongue which he had shown her soon after the movie theater date. Father Andrews had never licked her pussy, but Brent loved to slide his teenage tongue up and down her trench, slurping out the sticky juices, and lapping at her button until she screamed with joy. Many a time in the back restroom at the library, late at night before they went home from studying, Brent would sneak her into the disabled stall of the men’s room and suck her clit through two and three orgasms, while her long, slender fingers masturbated his thick pole, with its wide knob, into giant ejaculations. She had not brought herself to suck on his penis, though she wanted to, and sometimes she could not bring him to ejaculation after she had come due to someone coming into the restroom. But he had accepted these conditions, and would go home to fuck his fist in order to get relief after one of their late night sessions, thrusting his hips into this fist, on his hands and knees in bed, flogging the big boy boner until it shot his thick sperm into the sock he used to keep his mother from knowing how often he masturbated. Once or twice per week, eit her Amy’s sweet fingers or Brent’s thick ones would ply their trade on his big boy bone. The rest of the time, he got erections thinking of the day when he would drive his teenage spike into Amy’s or some other girl’s cunt, and soak it with his baby sauce. Like Amy, Brent loved to cum, but no one at school looked at his handsome face and imagined how obsessed with sexual release he was. If only they knew why he curled his toes in his flip-flops at times, straining to keep his unruly boy cock from getting too hard as he walked and dreamed about cunt and cum.


Johnny’s Plan in Motion

When Wes shook Johnny’s hand as he entered his house, he gave the younger teen a knowing smirk. Johnny, not wanting to undermine his own scheme, looked down and blushed, hoping the older boy would imagine how he had him under his control. Later than Friday, shortly after his parents had left and Wes was in the bathroom upstairs, Johnny let Darren in the back door, and snuck him upstairs to his bedroom. There, he hid Darren in the closet where he had set up his video camera. Darren had strict instructions, but if he goofed up, it didn’t really matter. Johnny had become a whiz at using the editing capacity of his computer, and he could make pictures and films without much trouble, and was capable of limiting shots and scenes to just what he needed. When Wes came out of the john, walking wearing flip-flops and his jeans with just a t-shirt covering his muscled torso, Johnny was waiting dutifully for him by his bedroom door.

“So punk, you ready to get down on your knees and suck my toes….” Wes smirked and spoke in condescending tone to the younger boy, flexing the long, athletic digits for emphasis. “I’ll be you’ve been jerkin’ off day and night, waiting for me to get here and give you what you need…that right, huh?” Johnny said nothing, but got down on the carpeted floor outside his room, away from where Darren could hear or see, and kissed the top of Wes’ muscular foot, allowing the older boy to wriggle the long, thick toes into his mouth, as he suckled on them gently. They were clean, with only a slight scent of foot sweat from the morning drive from his house, in the flip-flops he wore practically everyplace during the summer. In spite of his determination to bring Wes to his knees, Johnny’s cock grew rigid in his pants as he sucked the bigger boy’s long toes, some with sprouts of hair on the top. There was something exciting about servicing this big kid, in spite of his fucked-up attitude, and the athletic yet pale toes spoke of his masculine power and strength, a strength that Johnny would soon humble, as well as his vulnerability that Johnny would soon expoit. But no matter, Wes was running out of time, and as they walked into the bedroom, Johnny began to put his plan in motion.

Johnny took the initiative as the two boys walked into the bedroom, not wanting to lose Darren’s support for their scheme as he hid in the closet and listened to what he was taping. “Wes, I wish you’d strip down, and tease me as you do it, tell me what I have been missing and what you expect me to do…it really turns me on, and I’ve been waiting for you to play these games all summer… please Wes, please give me a strip tease, and then talk to me down and dirty and tell me what you’re going to make me do….” Johnny lowered his eyes, and humbled himself, as if he was shy and helpless, his erection pushing out the material of his shorts suggesting his sexual supplication to the older boy. Wes smirked again, enjoying the power he seemed to have over the younger boy .

“K dude, don’t get your dick in a knot…I’ll give ya what you’ve been waiting for…but just remember, you’re gonna do everything I tell ya…got it?” Wes looked at Johnny through cold deliberate eyes, his cock already stiff from the prospect of making the boy service him from head to toe. His nipples hardened and his dick burped pre-fuck, he could not wait for Johnny’s tongue to lick him to a huge cum.

He kicked off his flip-flops and let his long toes curl into the carpet, and then pulled his t-shirt off and threw it at Johnny, hitting him in the face. Johnny closed his eyes, and inhaled the older boys scent from the t-shirt, and Wes gave a deep laugh seeing him sniff the t-shirt and smell his deodorant and the slight scent of soap from his morning shower. Then Wes really got into the act, slowly fingering his cotton shorts, making them bulge obscenely where his thick cock protruded against his boxers. He teased the fat knob that was outlined, and then grasped the material to stroke it over his thick prick head
… groaning out loud to tease the younger boy who watched rapt with attention. Then Wes unbuttoned, unzipped, and lowered his shorts, kicking them off his big feet at the other boy. His boxers were wet where the sticky knob grazed against the material, making a wide stain. Again, Wes gripped the end of his thick boner, and rubbed it over the wet spot on the loose boxers, making them baste the itchy prick tip with the soft, scratchy material. He couldn’t stand that sensation too long, so he let go, and slowly slid the shorts over his rigid prong, making it pull down the rigid shaft, and then cause it to snap up wetly against his stomach when the waistband popped free from the big head. With the smug air of power, his big, beautiful body facing the younger boy, Wes began his filthy litany.

“Okay douche bag, get down and crawl over to me…because that is where you belong, on your knees worshipping my body. You can start with my feet, and work your way, up…yeah, how do I look punk…like your wet dream cum true?” As Wes spoke, his fingers trailed over his own perfect body, grasping his nipples and tweaking them, smoothing over his taut stomach, and then grasping his fat tool, waving it toward Johnny like he was holding a bone for a starving dog… stretching and holding himself. Finally, he got to a part that peaked his own horniness, turning to moon the boy and spread his ass checks so Johnny could see the hairy hole that he would be servicing. “Oh yeah, fuck wad, yeah, look at my hairy butt hole, that’s where you tongue is going to spend part of the night, licking and sucking till I tell you to stop…!” Wes bent over, and spread the tight moons of his ass cheeks, and the hairy crack split open to reveal a soft, pink wrinkle that was his pucker, seemingly buried under a mound of thick, dark hair.

Johnny got down on the ground, but for reasons that were unknown to Wes. In fact, Johnny wanted to make sure that Darren with his camera in the closet had an unobstructed view of Wes touching himself, talking dirty, pinching his tits, jerking his big boy boner, and spreading his ass cheeks to tickle the little portal hidden beneath the hair. Wes gave a show worthy of a alpha male, making his prey grovel for the scraps he was throwing to him. And every turn, every smirk, every tweak and jerk, and the fingering of his hot hole were captured on by Johnny’s high resolution camera and video recorder. Darren had been carefully instructed, and like the good friend he was, he made sure that even the close ups were in focus and clear.

Johnny crawled over to Wes, and nuzzled the big hairy legs, as the older boy continued to fondle and stroke himself, looking down with contempt on his younger victim. Johnny closed his eyes, and played the part, stroking his hands up the thick, legs, combing his fingers through the thick blond whorls of hair, and finally reaching up to stroke the huge cock that Wes was aiming down at him. Johnny’s fingers felt so good on the older boy’s aching shaft, and his fingers grazed lightly from the root up to the fat, drooling tip, smoothing the clear sap into the bulbous knob, roiling around the glans and tickling the coronal ridge with his rough finger pad. Wes grunted, but all that could be seen in Darren’s camera was the bigger boy, closing his eyes, and throwing his head back, letting some unknown hand masturbate his fat shaft and cock head. Johnny looked up to see Wes groaning with his head back, and turned quickly to Darren to give him the high sign, to cut off the filming.

For the rest of the next two hours, Johnny stripped himself down and serviced the older boy’s athletic body, licking from his toes to his balls, gently tugging on Wes’ rubbery teats and then sucking them, licking out his hairy navel, and finally sucking the fat plum of his glans into his mouth, laving it, while he stroked the hard shaft. His palms glided up and down, as his mouth torqued round and round the irritated fuck tip, making Wes grind his strong ass into the bed, and force the younger boys head up and down the aching prick, while he closed his eyes and groaned in appreciation for the wonderful ache that was growing in his sweaty nuts. Up and down, up and down Johnny’s mouth slid, twisting while his fist rolled up and over the knob and down as he suckled the giant plum. Now Wes was really growling, begging his cocksucker to make him cum….

“Oh Fuck yeah…suck me…aaaaaaahhhhhhh, yeah, right there, oh shit, oh fuck, keep sucking me…on the knob…Jesus Christ…you little faggot…eat my dick meat--- ooohhh, that’s so good…yeah…right there…AAAAGGGGHHH, make me cum you cunt… oh jesus…shit, fuck….aaaaaagggggggghhhhhhh.” Wes had been waiting for days, and he could not take any more of the younger boys magic fist and lips sliding over his expanding glans, making the itchy tip of his cock grow fatter and the piss lips begin to open. The pressure began to grow in his chest, he seemed to lose control of his ass and hips, and the rigid prong that was his pride and joy was being ruthlessly milked by the younger boy’s lubricated fist. Suddenly ropes of cum started to shoot from the cock head, as Wes ground his butt into the bed one long, last time, trying to both escape Johnny’s insistent lips and fist, and yet wanting his fat cock worked and drained of every drop of teen fuck snot that had been stored in his fat balls. Johnny sped up his fist, making his rough palm slide over the top of the cock and back, milking the cum from the twisting, squealing boy he had momentarily under his power.

“Oh, Christ…stop…yer killin’ me….aaaaaaaawwwwwww…that’s it…you got it all faggot… oh shit…slow down…my cock is too sensitive…aaaaaaahhhhhh!” Wes drove his big boy feet into the bed and lifted his hips into the air, trying to dislodge Johnny’s relentless fist and suctioning mouth…finally prying Johnny’s grip from his aching prick and freeing the over-stimulated, sticky knob from the younger boy’s twisting hold. Yet even as Wes fought to get his bone from Johnny’s torturing clasp, his face was contorted in sweet agony. There was something so fucking amazing about the desperate tickle that a fist or mouth caused after his fuck tool had squirted its baby juice, and the knob was tender and raw. He couldn’t stand the sensation and loved it more than anything…but he couldn’t let the little twirp know helpless he was when that tickle struck. But Johnny’s camera in Darren’s capable hands had whirled and whirled on, capturing Wes’ slutty language, ecstatic ejaculation, and his sweet agonized expression. Johnny’s face was no where to be seen, and only another boy’s fist was captured sliding over and around the bloated prick tip, and his lips were seen, while Wes’ facial expressions, and nasty behavior were front and center. Everything had gone to perfection for Johnny’s wicked scheme.

Wes had kicked Johnny out the bed, his prick too tender to go through another session that night. Then he had padded down the hallway to the bathroom to take a shower before he went to bed, whistling and enjoying his post-ejaculation glow. Johnny waited until the shower stall door closed, and then he snuck back into his room and got Darren and the camera out of the closet. By the next morning, he had produced a film for the computer that he posted on a web site, and made a dozen careful and clear jpegs, which he also posted. Darren slipped out the back door, and raced home, stripping down as quick as he could and grabbing his favorite cum rag to fuck his throbbing erection into so he could squirt his pent up boy juice. Johnny had given him permission to wank his dick after the work he’d done hiding in the closet, and because watching the scene between Johnny and Wes had made him so horny, he’d almost shot twice while he was filming. The only reason he had not creamed his jean and briefs was because he had to focus and concentrate on the filming to be sure he followed Johnny’s precise instructions. But once he got into his bed, he closed his eyes, and imagined someone sucking his thick boy dick and milking it to the levels of delight that Wes seemed to be experiencing. No matter what Darren did, he could not get his mind off of his prick and its insatiable need to be masturbated, or the prospect of what he and Johnny were going to do with Wes.

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