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Nifty - Gay - Adult Youth - Diary Of A Shota Boy - Diary Of A Shota Boy 7

 

Diary of a Shota Boy - Part 7

by

Cosmo

Part 7: Top Brass

One afternoon Guus came to see me in my room. It was very unusual for Guus. He rarely ventured into any boy's room. That was one of the things I liked about Guus, he never invaded our private space. Sure it was his club and his hotel, but he respected our territory and never entered a boy's room unless he had permission. So he knocked on my door. I was lounging on my bed at the time. I was just reading. Nothing heavy, only Sherlock Holmes “The Sign of Four”. I was naked. I hardly ever got dressed these days. I worked naked and fucked naked so there seemed little point in putting clothes on when I was off duty. I got up and opened the door. He asked if he could have a quick word, so I invited him in. Guus didn't bat an eyelid as I let him slip into my room. He had already had my little ass many times, so neither of us were fazed by my nakedness. Tell the truth, I was thinking about the last time he fucked me, which was a good few weeks ago now. I remembered that afternoon when he had spent a good long time with his head way down between my legs, examining my stiffie at close quarters, kissing it gently all over and telling me what a beautiful cock I had. He was always admiring my little dick. He was full of compliments, Guus was. He was such a schmoozer. That was before he licked my star until it was slick with saliva and then laid me on his pudgy belly and stuck his big fat dick into me. That was what was going through my mind as he was talking. He stood in the middle of the room and, as he spoke, I could see him glancing strategically down at my hand as I was groping my crotch. My little cock was getting hard as I cupped my genitals in my fist. I tried to focus on what Guus was saying.

'So will you see him?' he asked.

I hadn't been listening.

'What? Who?'

'This client?' Guus repeated, a little peeved at my distractedness, 'He's very important - top UN brass - and he's looking for a nice boy.'

I shrugged, pretty non-committal, but secretly flattered that Guus had chosen me for this assignment.

'Sure,' I said, 'I'll see him.'

Guus smiled.

'You're a good boy,' he said, relieved but grateful.

It was not common practice for any of us shota boys to be available when the club was closed. This was our downtime, and the only time of the day we could recuperate from the rigors of the sexual treadmill we were all engaged in. But Guus came to see me knowing I was usually quite good humored and amenable, and as a favor to Guus, I agreed to see him. I didn't know who this client was, or why he was looking to fuck boy ass out of hours, but he must have been important to Guus. And hey, it wasn't as if I was doing anything constructive.

'Oh, I should let you know,' said Guus, pausing on his way back out, 'he's got someone with him.'

Then Guus disappeared without further explanation.

That was curious. Guus knew very well that no boy was allowed to entertain two men at once. It was too risky. Two-boys-one-man, yes, but two-men-one-boy was a no-no. I decided to slip my boxer briefs on anyway, already curious as to who this important visitor was going to be.

A few minutes later Guus came back and showed the man in. He was in uniform, as I suspected. No doubt another member of the joint UN forces of UNVERO, but I couldn't work out what origin. He was pretty senior though, and his dress uniform was festooned with emblems and lots of gold braid. Guus wasn't kidding when he described him as 'top brass'. I was about to shut the door when I realized he had a little boy with him. That was something I hadn't bargained for. He came into the room with the little boy in tow. Guus bade them farewell and left. I shut the door behind them.

'This is my son,' the man said, looking at the little boy, 'He won't be any trouble.'

I looked at the little pixie-like boy. He was very small, probably no more than 8 years old, and he was looking quite bemused and apprehensive. But he was very pretty. He had a big mop of shiny chestnut brown hair, a little narrow nose that was slightly upturned, and large liquid eyes that were cute and inviting. He also had big round ears that stuck out slightly, giving him the air of a cheeky scamp. He turned away shyly as I looked down at him.

'Daddy's going to have a meeting now,' he said to the boy, 'Why don't you wait in the other room?'

The little boy nodded acquiescently, although I wasn't sure how convinced he was. After all, what type of meeting could this be with me standing there in boxer briefs? He didn't question it though. I kinda felt sorry for him. I knew his daddy was there to sex me up in the most uncompromising way, but it was going to be no fun for the kid having to hang around in the next room while his daddy got his rocks off in the ass of another boy.

I took the boy's frail little hand and led him into the next room. I was sure I could find something to keep the boy occupied while his daddy and I were fucking. I slipped open the adjoining door and took him over to the little bookstand. He sat down at the big oak writing desk and waited, with his little palms resting cutely on the desk in front of him. I picked out the most interesting book I could find, a big and colorful volume of “The Dangerous Book for Boys” and put it on the desk in front of him.

'Here,' I said, opening the brightly colored cover.

The gold letters of the title glinted as I flipped the big book open. He looked up at me nervously and smiled.

'You'll enjoy this,' I said, 'It's one of my favorite books.'

He started looking at the colorful illustrations and he seemed pleased by it.

'Will you be okay?' I asked him.

He looked up briefly, nodding reassuringly, then went back to flipping through the book. What a lovely little boy he was.

So I left him with the book and closed the adjoining door. Then I went back to finish my encounter with his father, who was already undressed and was sitting on the edge of my bed in his underwear. I could see the elongated lump of his erection in his boxers, no doubt already anticipating a punishingly stiff fuck. He was a good looking guy too, with a lovely thick head of hair and movie star features, and that same cute slightly upturned nose and protruding ears that his little boy had. You knew straight away he was the boy's father.

When we got down to business, this guy was extremely proficient in bed. He was a very accomplished boyfucker, obviously very experienced, and knew exactly what to do. He was quite affectionate too, holding me very close as he maneuvered me onto his lap, fucking up into me while I was perched astride him. He kissed my face and neck as he was stabbing up into my boycunt. Kissing didn't usually figure in my encounters, but this guy certainly knew the value of it. Tell the truth he really turned me on. His dick was big and stiff and he sure knew how to use it. He seemed to want to pleasure me too. These were the kind of boyfuckers I liked, the ones who really appreciated that part of the sexual transaction was to pleasure your lover as well as yourself. Well he certainly did that. He was one of the very few tricks that actually took time to make me cum while we were fucking. He obviously got pleasure from giving his little lovers an orgasm too, and I knew straight away what he was driving at because he kept altering the angle of his thrusting into my hole, no doubt looking for my gland. When he hit it square on, I stiffened, and that seemed to galvanize him even further. He carried on holding me close, his big hands on my back, holding me upright on his lap, looking lovingly into my face, and he went on stabbing impetuously, hitting my gland repeatedly. I knew he was going to make me cum like that. It sent me into a strange delirium - the kind of plateau phase of sex that I didn't often achieve with my tricks - where you stayed for a while on a plane of heightened pleasure, just on the brink of what you knew was going to be a cum of great profundity. And he was relentless, stimulating my gland to ever greater sensitivity. He carried on striking my little button until it became unbearable. When I could stand no more, my little body exploded. I felt this sudden rush of pure pleasure that rose up gradually building momentum like a distant tidal wave, completely overpowering me and finally crashing ashore, ripping through my whole body with a vast seizure of ecstatic release. It made my little cock pulse with such power and intensity that it spat out a little bullet of clear kidspunk that hit him on his lips and chin. For a few moments it pulsed madly, waggling about aimlessly in my crotch, pressed between us, and a few more serene little jets shot out and dripped back down the end of my little dick and the clear drops ran down my hairless crotch, making my tight little balls wet. He held the back of my head and tipped our foreheads together, looking into my eyes and smiled. He knew the pleasure he afforded me, and looked pleased. He had this benevolent smile on his lips, as pleased with my orgasm as I was. I took a few moments to get my breath back. I loved having the spunk fucked out of me, and it wasn't easy to induce a hands-free cum like that, but this guy knew exactly what he was doing. This guy was damn good.

When he had pleasured me, and made sure that I was happy, he concentrated on blowing his load into me. Well, he had been so good to me, I decided to make it good for him too. I used my best technique to squeeze the muscles of my boycunt every time he stabbed into me, tightening my hole to increase his pleasure. He felt it too. The first time I did it, he gasped and his eyes widened. Then I knew that I was creating a tangible sensation for his big dick. When I did it again, he gasped again, and this time he smiled. He knew I was doing it deliberately and the look in his eyes acknowledged that I was making this extra effort for him. He relaxed into it and submitted to me, closing his eyes in appreciation and letting himself feel the pleasure of my experienced little cunt. He carried on stabbing away. I bounced up and down a little, meeting his thrusts. When he was getting close, he leaned back submissively and allowed me to usher him towards a really powerful cum. He could feel it. Ages before it hit, his breaths became short and quick and he closed his eyes, preparing for the onslaught. Then suddenly, his whole body shuddered violently and this deep, almost guttural vocalization emanated from his throat and then ceased in strangulated pleasure. It was quite loud. I knew his little boy in the next room must have heard it. Then for a few long seconds he was consumed by the pleasure of his orgasm and I could feel his big dick pulsing away, sheathed tightly in my sensitive little snatch, and I felt every twinge and throb as he ejaculated deep inside me. His spunk was warm and comforting, coating the insides of my little chute with his therapeutic cream, soothing the savage sting of his punishingly big cock.

When his orgasm subsided, he thrust into me a few more times, wringing every last spark of pleasure out of my little body, and finally withdrew. His dick was softening and it looked pretty beat up. I could feel my hole slowly closing in the absence of his intrusion, and a little of his spunk was just leaking out and pooling in my perineum. We sat on the bed for a few moments facing each other while we got our breath back. He looked at me and smiled, clearly impressed.

'Thank you,' he said, 'That was fantastic.'

I knew immediately that an unspoken agreement had been struck. He would be back for more. There was no doubt about it. He was already hooked on my little cunt.

We finished up in satisfied silence. I got him a towel, and he wiped himself off as I cleaned up in the bathroom. I slipped back into my boxer briefs as he prepared to leave. When he was dressed, he went to get his son from the next room. The boy emerged without any questions or complaints. He just followed his dad. Before they left, his father took out a slim leather pocket book from inside his tunic and extracted several fresh, crisp notes, which he stuffed gratefully into my hands. It was a lot more than I'd bargained for. This guy obviously knew the going rate, and he had doubled it.

'Thanks,' I said, gratefully, slightly incredulous.

He smiled at that, and paused for a moment just to admire my face with a look of wondrous approval. He liked me. That made me very pleased with myself. But more than that, he was impressed with my performance. It sure was nice to know your efforts were appreciated.

After he and the boy had gone, I took a few moments to tidy up. I went about the room straightening stuff up and found the book the boy had been reading, still lying open on the desk. I closed the big, slim volume and slipped it back onto the shelf. Then I went and showered. Soon it would be time for dinner, and not long after that I would be back at work, plying my trade in the smoky atmosphere of the club way down in the basement.

After my shower I was a little more invigorated and fresher, but still somewhat fatigued. My hole was still a little sore, and so were my thighs, from where that guy had stretched my legs really wide across his lap. Tell you the truth, I felt matted and bruised all over. But that was normal. I was tired and feeling the need for some sustenance. I knew I would feel better after I had something to eat.

I decided to go along to the kitchen to see what was for dinner. I slipped back out into the passageway. As I shut the door behind me, I turned, and there was a little figure furtively languishing in the shadows over by the elevator shaft. I knew he wasn't waiting for the elevator. The elevator hadn't worked in months. The hallway was always dimly lit and he seemed to emerge from the shadows of the alcove between the elevator shaft and the stairway, revealing himself to me as I pulled the door to.

'Hi!' he said, beaming with enthusiasm, almost as though he expected me to be pleased to see him.

I recognized him immediately as the boy who had accompanied his father earlier, and had sat in the room next door while his father was busily plowing my little ass.

'Hi,' I replied, with a descending inflection, not sure what he was doing here and suspicious of his motives.

He just stood there beaming at me.

'Where's your daddy?' I asked him.

'He's dwinking in the bar,' he replied, in his little high-pitched voice.

'So what are you doing up here?'

'I'm weally bored,' he said, plainly.

I noticed the way he spoke. He was one of those little boys that had trouble pronouncing his R's. I thought that was so cute.

'I don't think you should be up here, ' I said, 'Why don't you go back to your daddy?'

'Can't I hang awound here with you?' he asked, plaintively.

'Why?' I asked.

He giggled nervously, and looked down shyly.

'There was something I wanted to ask you,' he said.

I stopped and looked at this innocent looking little boy. He was quite cute in his own way, slight and diminutive, with that fresh-faced precocity that was instantly appealing. He was a pretty little thing, with his pixie-like face and those slightly protruding ears. His allure was instantly captivating.

'What did you want to ask me?'

'Why did my daddy give you money?' he asked, going right ahead with whatever was on his mind.

Obviously a reference to the transaction that had taken place in my room earlier.

'Your daddy gave me money so I would play with him,' I explained, in the simplest terms I knew.

He stood there for a moment, assimilating this information, and clearly contemplating the repercussions.

'That's what I do,' I went on, elaborating further, 'Guys who are lonely pay me money so that I will play with them.'

He seemed to be happy with that explanation, and he cocked his head to one side, clearly considering his response. He shifted his weight from one tiny foot to the other, and hung his head down in thought. Then, slowly, he raised his little head and his expression looked more hopeful. He reached into the back pocket of his little jeans.

'I've saved twenty five dollars,' he said, holding out a sheaf of rumpled bills in his little hands, and proffering them to me, 'will you play with me?'

I have to admit, that really threw me. I had never been propositioned by someone so young, and certainly never with such touching innocence. His cuteness and naivety was disarming, tell you the truth. He stood there, this tiny boy, with those greenbacks in his little outstretched hands, like Oliver asking for another bowl of gruel, and my heart absolutely melted.

I smiled and pushed his outstretched hands away.

'Put that away,' I said, moving towards him, 'you're my friend. There's no charge for you.'

'Oh, cool!' he exclaimed.

He seemed delighted and more than a little relieved by that, tentatively withdrawing his offering. With a resigned shrug, he stuffed the greenbacks into his pocket again.

'My name's Cloud,' I said, 'What's yours?'

'My name's Simon-Peter,' he said.

'Hello Simon-Peter,' I said, and I held out my hand as though we'd just met, 'that's a real nice name.'

He shook my hand quite readily. His little hand felt very warm and pliable in mine. He beamed with happiness, not only at my complimentary words, but also the fact that he knew he had just made a new friend. He seemed so eager to latch onto my company, that I almost felt happy for him. I liked this boy. I liked him a lot. And as we headed down the passageway, his diminutive little frame moving with me in unison, I knew I was going to enjoy getting to know this wonderful little boy.

To my relief the kitchen was deserted. I wasn't in the mood to socialize, tell you the truth, and I just wanted to eat and talk to Simon-Peter without too many questions. There was food on the hotplate as usual. That was one thing that could always be said about Guus: he always made sure there was fresh food for us. He even had a cook who came in every day to prepare it. Today there was a deep tray of penne pasta. I scooped out two small bowls of the stuff and gave one to Simon-Peter. I set it down in front of him with a spoon and he smiled, like it was his favorite food or something.

'Oh thanks!' he said, gratefully.

Such a polite, well-mannered little boy.

He immediately started spooning the pasta into his mouth, smearing his cute lips with tomato sauce, his dimpled cheeks bulging as he chewed. He seemed to be enjoying it.

I sat down opposite him and we both ate in silence for a bit. It was funny, I thought, as I sat in the yellowed and greasy kitchen where we shota boys usually took our meals, that I should suddenly find myself in the company of this little boy. This sweet, innocent little person who was so unworldly, consorting with an experienced shota boy like me who perhaps had grown up too quickly and was too knowing for his own good.

As we settled into our meals, I got up and fetched him a drink. I poured him some juice into a beaker and stuck a bendy straw in it. It struck me how nice it felt to be doing stuff for this little boy. I suddenly felt quite responsible for him, even though I knew that his daddy, who was top brass and very high up in UNVERO, was at that moment somewhere downstairs in the bar.

As we were eating our fill of the pasta, I managed to ascertain that Simon-Peter and his father were staying in the hotel, and were in fact Guus's guests. There were some very well-appointed bedrooms reserved for such guests in the new wing of the hotel that were rarely rented out, but which Guus used to accommodate his many friends and acquaintances. Whatever could be said about Guus, he was very well connected and had friends in some very high places. Not all of them necessarily legitimate, but each with a great deal of influence in one way or another. Simon-Peter said he was from London. No wonder he spoke English so well. His father was very high up in the British Army and was now posted to Verolino as part of the joint United Nations forces. I knew he was something very high up in UNVERO. Simon-Peter's story fascinated me. I told him I had always wanted to go to London. I had read so much about it, and it seemed to me to be a place of timeless romance and mystique. I told him that I hoped one day I would get to visit London.

'I hope so too,' said Simon-Peter, 'And you can stay with us. You can sleep in my woom.'

'That's very kind of you,' I said, humbled by this little boy's eagerness to project our friendship into the future, perhaps when the war in Europe was over and we were all free to pursue normal lives.

Then he seemed to zone out for a moment, perhaps thinking his own thoughts as he finished eating, and then he focused back on me.

'Do you play with their pee-pees?' Simon-Peter asked, completely out of the blue.

Tell the truth, I had no idea that this little boy was so knowing about the rudiments of my encounters. I was slightly taken aback. I decided that perhaps I had underestimated him.

'Yes,' I said, deciding not to try and deceive him or fudge the issue, 'that's exactly what I do.'

'Why?' he asked, looking up from his drink.

As he looked up, releasing the straw from between his lips, I could see that he had impetuously chewed on the end of it.

'Because it gives them a nice feeling,' I said, not knowing at all whether this was the right way to describe things to such a young and naïve little boy.

'They put their pee-pees in me as well,' I went on, deciding he may as well know the full extent of my involvement.

'They bum you?' he exclaimed, in surprise.

I smiled and couldn't help eliciting a little giggle. I'd never heard that term before.

'Yes,' I said, 'If that's what you want to call it.'

'Don't it hurt?' he asked, fiddling with the straw.

'Only at first,' I replied, 'But you soon get used to it.'

'Do you like it?'

'Yes,' I nodded, 'I like it very much.'

'Oh cool,' he said again, smiling cutely.

Apparently he was reassured by that, and went back to sucking on his straw. I could see the orange liquid being drawn up the slim tube into his little mouth as he pursed his lips around it, and for a moment I could just picture those luscious little lips wrapped around my todger. I was flattered that he was so interested in my exploits. I wondered if he was leading up to something.

At this point, our conversation was interrupted by Sunny. Sunny was another of the shota boys at the Club, and one which I didn't have much to do with. But I tolerated him. I tolerated him because he was one of Guus's favorites. Sunny was quite effeminate. Guus liked that, and so did many of the clients. Sunny was popular because of that. He had a thick head of peroxide yellow hair that was styled in big flowing waves. He liked to make out he was blond, but he wasn't fooling anybody. You didn't have to be a natural blond like me to be able to differentiate a genuine shade of blond. You could tell that his blondness was artificial. In fact, everything about Sunny was somewhat fake and phony, right down to the damn false nails he was wearing, painted in a garish pink nail-varnish. And he had a very distinctive lolloping walk, this boy, as though he was bouncing up and down on his ankles as he walked, which made his body wobble about all over the place, as though his bones were made of jell-o. But he annoyed the hell out of me, if you want to know the truth, not more so than because he was usually quite sarcastic. He always had something derogatory to say, always had to pass comment on whatever you happened to be doing. I can't tell you how annoying that was.

We both looked up as Sunny waltzed into the kitchen, his lean body wrapped in a brightly colored silk robe.

'Hey Claudia,' he said as he spotted me sitting there, 'screwing little boys now are we?'

I guessed he was referring to Simon-Peter. Oh, and that was another thing that annoyed the hell out of me - he spoke in a real camp way and had this grating habit of always assigning us names of a female equivalent. I hated that. I was a boy. I liked being a boy. I liked fucking with real men. Cocks belonged in boycunts, as far as I was concerned. I didn't liken myself to a girl, like he did.

'What's it to you?' I countered, already ruffled by his presence.

'Ooh!' he squealed, already launching into his usual camp parlance, 'Get out the wrong side of bed, did we dearie?'

Fuck off nancy boy, I thought to myself. I didn't say it out loud, of course. Although, if Simon-Peter hadn't been sitting there I might have been tempted.

Sunny set about helping himself to some coffee from the percolator on the counter and noisily pottered about the kitchen cupboards looking for a mug. He was unnecessarily noisy and heavy-handed in everything he did. It prevented us from talking simply because any conversation would have been drowned out by the din he was making. He finally found a clean mug, poured himself some coffee, and came to sit at the end of the table uninvited. He pulled up a chair and drew himself right up to the edge of the table.

'So who's you're little fuckbuddy?' he asked, looking at Simon-Peter.

He was talking about Simon-Peter as if he wasn't there, which I thought was the height of rudeness.

'This is Simon-Peter,' I said, introducing him.

Sunny wasn't even listening. That was another annoying thing about him. He'd ask you a question and not even do you the courtesy of waiting for your answer. He was too distracted by the task of lighting a cigarette. He was addicted to caffeine and nicotine, this boy. He drew heavily on the cigarette, as though it was his first in a long time, impetuously wolfed the smoke down into his lungs, and exhaled smoke in both our faces. Then he neurotically started to flick his cigarette into the ashtray even before the ash had started to accumulate on the tip. I swear, everything Sunny did was designed to annoy you. Some people were like that. There were certain individuals you just couldn't stand to be in the same room with. Sunny was one of them.

'C'mon,' I said to Simon-Peter, 'Let's go.'

Sunny watched us vacate the table with an incredulous look on his face.

'Ooh, something I said?' he remarked, indignantly.

I leaned over and spoke right into his face.

'It's always something you said,' I told him, then, before he could say anything else, I said: 'By the way - your roots are showing.'

He hated being reminded that he wasn't a natural blond. He opened his mouth to utter some protest or other, but I walked away and took Simon-Peter by the hand, not bothering to look back.

When I got Simon-Peter back to my room, I was very surprised that he wanted me to show him pictures of what I did as a shota boy. He was very interested in knowing more about my exploits. So I sat him down on the bed, and we looked through one of my boyfuck magazines. They were good pictures too, large format and full color, clearly showing little boys playing with big men's dicks, sucking on them and taking them deep into their boyholes, being splattered with spectacular cumshots and little mouths overflowing with copious spunkloads.

As we sat there, turning the pages, I could see Simon-Peter squeezing his crotch, and I knew his little dickie must have been aching with stiffness from looking at those pictures. He looked up at me, slightly red-faced, flushed with sexual arousal.

'Is that what you did with my daddy?' he asked.

'Yes,' I replied, 'that's exactly what we did.'

He gazed back down at the big, colorful pictures in the boyfuck magazine, and let out a slow, almost inaudible gasp.

'Oh, that makes my pee-pee weally stiff,' he said, and grabbed his crotch again, his little fist clenching at the bulging bundle between his legs, and he squirmed about a little on the bed next to me.

'Cloud?' he said, looking up again, 'Will you play with my pee-pee?'

I stared down at him, this little boy sitting there next to me, and his cute face was glowing with little boy lust. I could see from his eyes that his request was genuine.

Then he put the magazine aside and just fell back on the bed, so that he was lying there with his little boyfeet dangling over the edge. He cutely closed his eyes, with his hand still squeezing at his crotch through the front of his pants.

'I wanna to do stuff with you,' he said.

Then he opened his eyes and looked up at me, even as he was lying there, and I turned and leaned over him. I looked over this little boy, lying there on my bed with his eyes closed, his straining stiffie stifled in his tight little pants, and he looked ripe for the taking. Tell the truth, I could have ravaged him right there. There was nothing I would have liked more than to flip him over, strip his little jeans down to his ankles, and sink my boydick right into his little virgin ass. Honest, I was so fucking horned up, I wanted to blow my kiddie fuckwad deep inside him right there.

'Do you wanna play with me?' he said, in a plaintive, little boy voice.

'Of course I do,' I said, with a smile, 'But you mustn't tell your daddy.'

'I won't,' he said, emphatically, 'It'll be our secwet.'

He knew exactly what was at stake, and seemed to understand the need for discretion.

'But right now I have to go to work,' I said.

'Pee-pee work?' he asked, with a cheeky grin.

It was quite quaint the way he phrased it.

'Yes,' I said, 'Pee-pee work.'

* * * * * *

 
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