Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Organization: Delphi Internet Services Corporation Lines: 244 Message-ID: 31uvjr$72u@news.delphi.com NNTP-Posting-Host: news.delphi.com
The following is a fiction story from the archieves of FAN CHA PHAW. This story deals with a young boy and his sexuality. If this type of material offends you, stop now, do not read further.
This story may be distributed freely, as long as this header remains intact, and credit is given to FAN CHA PHAW, and the author.
BILLY'S SPOT By Randy Boys
"Watch out for the fender!"
"No problem, I got it."
If you bothered to look up to find the source of the grating sound you would have seen a boy of twelve, maybe thirteen, zipping by you on his brand-new skateboard. You would have seen the young daredevil dodging the moving cars and darting between parked ones in the beach parking lot. Your heart would have leaped when he cut in front of an overweight Pontiac, with just inches to spare. If you bothered to look up...
You would have seen a sweetly, tanned young man with shoulder length, strawberry-blond hair. You would have seen a fluffy, white beach-towel draped over the boy's shoulder, flapping in the wind. Your eyes would have been drawn to the obscene rise in the front of the tiny, red swimmer, which on closer inspection would have turned out to be a tube of sunscreen. If you had bothered to look, you would have seen all this and much, much more.
"Billy, look out!"
"Look out for wh...."
"Ieeeeee!" Billy Derringer yelped, as he suddenly found himself tumbling head over heals through the air.
"Where'd my skateboard go?"
"Ummph," the boy grunted, hitting the soft sand, butt first, with a thud. The slim kid was thankful for his well-padded bottom.
"Anybody see me?"
"Naw."
"Don'tcha know, I'm still cool!"
Billy giggled when he looked back and saw the wheels of his skateboard buried axle-deep in the beach sand. The blond gathered his transportation, his towel, and pulled the tube of lotion, that had lodged itself painfully beneath his delicate testes, from his bathing suit.
The boy of twelve, maybe thirteen, shuffled bare-foot over the warm softness. Billy peered at the girls and peeked at the boys.
"Either could be fun toys!"
Billy continued on down the beach, flashing an I-know-what- your-looking-at wink, to a man who had given his Speedos the twice-over. Too bad the guy was in the company of his wife and two young daughters, it might have been fun. No matter, he was almost there now. Nearer and nearer he came to his spot.
"Billy's spot."
The boy's pink kickers pumped faster, faster still, as he rounded the jut of sea-weed filmed rocks. A smile spread across the blonde's puffy lips as he came to his cozy, little lagoon, that was separated from the rest of the beach. There wasn't a swimmer or a sun bather to spoil his pleasure! It was so much better when he was by himself. He could really let himself be taken!
Billy carefully laid out his towel on the grainy sand and dropped the tube of lube on top. The young blonde looked to the left and then to the right, and then to the left again. No a soul in sight! With a good and naughty feeling warming his tummy, Billy's slender fingers dug beneath the elastic band of his flimsy, nylon garment. With a little wiggle of his butt he slipped the tiny suit down his slim hips and kicked it off.
The naked boy drew in a deep breath. It was time. Billy's skinny chest expanded and fell with one more lung full. It was time. The boy's feet started at a fast walk, the walk becoming a jog, the jog a flat-out run. Soon the boy was splashing in the cool ocean water.
Ankle deep. Knee deep. Waist deep. Nipple deep. But not too deep.
Billy stepped here, he stepped there, it was here somewhere. Just like last time, and the time before that, it would be waiting for him. Waiting for his smooth and milky boy-flesh. Billy would willingly let himself be...
"Ummmmmmm," the youngster cooed, as he felt a swirl of water snake around and around his right thigh, and then his left. He was there. It had found him. A zillion water bubbles rushed up between his legs and burst against the pink sac of skin that hung from his bare pubes.
"Shiiiittt, "Billy sighed. The popping water kissed his balls mercilessly. The not-so-innocent skate boarder let his body float limply, giving himself over to the water's every desire. The young boy's skinny pecker expanded to it's full four inches as underwater currents began lapping his solid, pinkish boyhood. Billy's tummy panted and his toes curled when mini pulses of salt water spiraled up and down his throbbing penis. The little blond was being used, used by mother nature in a most perverse way.
Up and down the water coiled. Round and round the tender cock. Billy's cock.
"This is Billy's spot."
"Eat me, lick me, touch me!" Billy screamed underwater, spreading his legs wide, inviting the tide to consume the tasty treats hidden between his legs. The loving force embraced him warmly. Gentle waves lapped and swam over the soft curves of his ass.
"Gawww, do it," the youngster hummed, feeling the agitated swell dip into the crease that separated his pillowy-soft buns. Billy's small body jerked and trembled as rushes of water snuggled in tightly and gurgled wildly in his sensitive valley. Insistent gushes thumped the kid's rosy-pink pucker. Oozing trickles of water seeped into the tightly clenched bottom, moistening the willing anus with it's wet, loving caresses.
Billy sobbed with excited pleasure. Never had the body of water touched him there before. Not ever. Nobody, not even Billy, a boy of...
"twelve, maybe thirteen"
...had ever touched himself there before. His most private spot.
"Billy's spot."
"I'm, yours," Billy moaned, licking his satiny lips. The young blond was feeling all dreamy and warm. The horny ocean sucked on his wiggling toes, tongued into the sweaty and smooth cups of his arm pits. Waves brushed his lips, kissed them gently. Ripples of water lovingly stroked the twin, rubbery circles on either side of his chest.
"I'm Billy, Mr. Ocean," the youngster croaked, letting himself be drawn deeper into the oceans depths. It's where young Billy wanted to be. He knew it was where he belonged. "Take me with you. I'll be yours forever."
Tight, sucking currents enveloped the boy's kid-cock. Wet jerking and stroking swishing up and down the length of the youngster's stiffer.
"Deeper, deeper, the boy was pulled...pulled gently, into a dream he had often fantasized about.
A pressurized column of water probed at the relaxing wrinkle of flesh. Billy's head rolled from side to side, his arms and legs flailed, as he bucked his butt back and captured the swirling mass of the ocean's...
"Deeper, deeper..."
Clear, blue water flushed and pumped in and out of the boy's bum. The blondeUs body shivered with love and pleasure. Little Billy Derringer eagerly parted his legs taking the water into his mouth, returning the love.
"Gaww, I', g-gonna squirt, Mr. Ocean!" Billy yipped and yelped. The plunging and racing wetness gushed faster and faster up his seat along with the current that was shamelessly squeezing his flopping flapper was just too much for the sweet boy.
He was just a boy of twelve, maybe thirteen.
"Unkkkaaa!" Billy squealed. His penis twitched and jerked and snapped off thin, milky streamers of creamy boy-juice into the frenzied whirlpool. The lad fed his Mr. Ocean all of what his balls had to offer.
I love you Mr. Ocean," Billy whispered.
"One last air-bubble rose to the surface."
A boy of twelve, maybe thirteen, came upon a little stretch of beach. He wondered where the boy that belonged to the swimming suit, towel, sun-tan lotion, and the skateboard was. With a shrug, the young red head dropped his towel and kicked off his sandals, eager to take a quick dip.
"This is nice," little Tommy Wilson smiled. "Nobody comes this far down the beach. This will be my spot."
"Tommy's spot..."
This story was presented by FAN CHA PHAW, publisher of "Private Dreams," and "Young, Hung & Promscuious," and of articles on anti-circumcision issues, and sexual freedom and liberation. FAN CHA PHAW may be reached on Delphi c/o william325@delphi.com and on AOL fanchaphaw@aol.com.
Ishmael Wilkins