Disclaimer bit: this is a fantasy. Not real. No animals were harmed, etc., and especially no kids. This didn't happen, and even if it had, the kid wouldn't have known he was being watched, so it makes very little difference. The point is, this is a fantasy involving voyeurism of a 12 year old boy having a wank. If that's the sort of thing that turns you on (and let's face it, it probably does if you're at Nifty), then you might well enjoy it. I hope you do. If you're here by mistake, then I'm sorry to have wasted your time, but you probably don't want to read on. By the way, I'd love to hear from you. Have you had a similar experience, but in real life? Or have you, like I have, once shown off for a dirty old man who was peeking at you through the toilet wall? Or has nothing like this ever happened, but you liked the story anywaY? Either way, e-mail me at bwriterb@hotmail.com and tell me about it... Zack
A brief airport fantasy
I was waiting in airport for my gate to be called, waiting for the announcement that would precipitate one of the longest airline journeys in the world, the long haul to Singapore. I hated the journey. Every time, it left me feeling like I'd been run through the mangle, and it took me days each time to recover. The fact that my business trips were only a week long at a time just added to the torment. I was sitting on one of those impossibly uncomfortable airport seats, struggling to hold the paper in the right position to finish the crossword. I only had one more clue to work out, the ancient name for Switzerland. I let my mind drift, and my eyes wander around the room. I wasn't really looking at anything in particular, just letting myself defocus. When the answer came to me (it's Helvetica, in case you were wondering. I'll never forget that clue), my eyes snapped back into focus, and I realised where they were looking. Across the way, playing with a handheld console of some kind, was a young boy, maybe twelve years old, or a young thirteen. I let my eyes rest there for a minute, drinking in the lad's beauty. He really was my type. I'd realised years ago that I was attracted to boys, and didn't try to persuade myself that I was anything but a boylover. I had been married in the past, when I was quite young, but my wife was well gone, with my best wishes and half the pension fund. The lad was cute. Really cute. Slightly longer then normal hair, though you would hesitate to call it long. It was light brown, almost sun-bleached on top. He had a little button nose and proper rosy cheeks on quite a pale, flawless complexion. The clothes were good, too, a sort of half-hearted attempt at the skater look, with very soft, faded looking blue jeans. Definitely my type. I watched for a few more seconds, before I realised that perhaps I had been looking for a little too long, and forced myself to return to the puzzle and write in that last clue. After a few more moments scanning the other brainteasers on the back page, I decided to have a quick piss before we had to go through the gate, and there was a long wait on the other side until we were in the air. As luck would have it, the boy chose the same moment to do the same thing, and walked about ten feet in front of me all the way to the toilet. The gents was one of my favourite places to spy a bit of little boy dick, either at the urinals or through a peep-hole between cubicles. My boy went into a cubicle, and so I decided that I would chance the cubicle next to his. The only word that's fitting at this point is 'jackpot!'. There was a peephole between the two stalls, and quickly ridding myself of my trousers and pants, i sat down on the toilet seat and had a look through. What I saw sent my heart racing and the blood pumping to my dick. I was eye-high with the boy's dick, which he was idly holding. It was a lovely dick, one of the nicest I'd seen in some time, a perfect little tube of flesh with a foreskin that was far too long for it and a little bit pink at the tip, contrasting nicely with the pale shaft. I reckoned it to be about 2 inches soft. After a moment, I saw it bulge a little and a shaft of piss broke free from the end, making a loud splashing in the water of the bowl. It lasted for about 30 mouth-watering seconds before the stream dried up and the boy started shaking the last few drops off, pinching the head through the foreskin, puckering it up even more than it had been. I thought the show was over, and was about to stop watching and start having a wank, when I noticed that the boy wasn't pulling his pants up. Instead, he was still tugging and squeezing at his dick, and I realised that it was starting to harden. He let go for a second, ovbviously to check on the progress he had made, and I saw with delight for the first time since I was that age myself a boy's dick growing in front of my eyes. It hardened pretty quickly (young boys have all the luck), and ended up a good four inches, I'd say, though quite thin still. The foreskin was long enough that it still hung over the end - my very favourite type - and the veins on the side stood out strongly. After a moment letting it stand there, the boy went to work on what I assumed was a fairly regular passtime, judging by the refined technique. He went for the two-fingers-and-a-thumb style that I typically employed myself, working the foreskin up and down his shaft. Clearly he didn't have long before he would be missed, and went at it quite fast. His little balls, in their hairless sack, were pulled close to his body and jiggled up and down in time with his wanking. Pretty soon I could see the boy's stomach muscles tensing, and his other hand went down to cup his balls. A finger definitely drifted back beneath his scrotum towards his arse, and stuarted rubbing around, which brought a barely audible gasp from his side of the wall, and nearly got one from me, too. He was very close to cumming, and when it happened, I was pleasantly surprised to see a couple of drops of watery semen dripping out of the end of his forekin, which were caught in the hand that had been fondling his sack. I assumed he would just wipe the secretion off on a bit of toilet paper, but the hand disappeared upwards, out of the line of my sight. I could only assume that he licked his hand clean, because when it came back to capture the drop that worked its way out of his softening dick, it was clean and glistening slightly. As quickly as the moment had started, it was over. The boy zipped up quickly and left the stall in a hurry, maybe feeling guilty, or perhaps just a little bit late. I was going to have a wank of my own, but I realised I'd already shot my load onto the floor between my feet without having even touched myself. I never saw the boy again. He wasn't in the lounge area any more when i returned to my seat, and there was no sign of him as I went through the gate, but I still have fond memories of the time I managed to look in on his most private of moments.
That's it, guys. A short one, but I had to get it out of my head and down onto the page. Hope you enjoyed it. Once again, if you feel it necessary to tell me anything about the story, let me know at bwriterb@hotmail.com