WARNING: This story is hopefully homoerotic in content, which means that it will involve male on male sex of various ages.
ALL THE CHARACTERS AND SITUATIONS CONTAINED WITHIN THIS STORY ARE FICTIONAL. ANY RESEMBLENCE TO REAL PEOPLE, PLACES ETC. IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL.
PETER PAN, CAPTAIN HOOK AND THE NEVER NEVER LAND ARE THE CREATIONS OF THE AUTHOR J.M. BARRIE.
THE LOST BOYS ARE BASED ON CELEBRETIES BUT HAVE BEEN RENAMED OR HAVE HAD THEIR NAMES TRUNCATED FOR THE PURPOSES OF STORYTELLING AND TO KEEP IN LINE WITH WORLD CREATED MR BARRIE. THE AUTHOR IS NOT COMMENTING ON THE SEXUAL ORIENTATION OF THESE CELEBRITIES - THIS IS MERELY FICTION. OK? OK.
This story contains consensual sexual activity between male minors. It didn't really happen, you know - seeing as it's a story and all. If that is an issue for you then please don't read on. It's also a fantasy, so don't go expecting real life resolutions to situations as they arise. Although not practiced by the characters in this story, the author always recommends 'safe' sex in real life. You must be above the Age of Consent in whatever god forsaken part of the globe you are reading this in. If not turn back - now - go on - jog on son...
Copyright 2012
I always appreciate contact/feedback - if there's any to be had I can be reached at - bangarang@hush.com
Pan
Chapter Three
Everything was shades of grey - light shone on little - dark, heavy clouds threatened the rusted silver sky. My wrists were red raw, bound with coarse rope - my arms stretched above my head. Wisps of black smoke encircled my cold and naked body. I could hear the sound of water lapping - of wood creaking and slow, threatening footsteps. I shivered with dread as a black figure moved toward me through the dense fog. Tall and broad like a great mountain, sinewy and deceitful like a serpent - the figure shifted and changed shape - growing and shrinking in size and girth. A hand grabbed a fistful of my hair - smashed my head against timber. I cried in pain, tears streaming down my face - something metal and sharp grazed my cheek. The figure leant over me - leant into me, black curls cascading onto my face. The cold sharp object ran from my cheek to my shoulder - scraping at my skin - I felt a bare hand grip my throat tight. The dark entity ran the cold steel onto my chest - cutting into my skin - thick droplets of black blood dribbled down my torso. He released my throat and immediately lunged for my balls. A huge plate like hand grabbed my nut sack and squeezed hard - pulling my jewels away from my body. I howled in agony - his vicelike grip tightened. The dark figures breath was on my face - hot and stale - rum and cigars. Through reddened, stinging eyes I looked down - feeling cold metal encircle my fattening cock. I was hard - crying, terrified - in fear of my life and rock hard!
With a start I awoke. My mind still a little fuzzy - vision slightly burred - the stench of the shadows breath still stung in my nostrils - it took me a moment to remember. The nightmare still played in my mind and my morning erection brought it back in waves.
I was alone. There was no sign of Peter.
Standing, buck naked, the last vestiges of the nightmare still clouding the corners of my thoughts - I pulled on my shorts and looked around. Light was still breaking in through cracks in the tree trunk. I was unsure if I'd slept right through to the next morning or only dozed for a couple of hours. I began looking for a way out. The first two doors, crudely painted green and blue, led to small rooms filled with hammocks - the floors covered in discarded clothes. The white door led to a cupboard filled with shelves - all coconut cups and carved wooden plates. The final door, painted red, opened up into a tunnel - dug beneath the earth. Seeing no possible way out, other than the hole in the wall Peter had pushed me through to enter, I crawled through the door - closing it behind me.
On hands and knees I edged through the dark and narrow channel of mud and roots - the weeds growing inwards. After a few metres the tunnel opened to a passage way- tall and wide enough for me to stand- a little more light coming through. I followed the track, that twisted and turned, in silence - my hands on the walls to feel my way, thinking about everything that had happened since that boy had found his way through my open window - from my room back in... in Edinburgh. From the tarmacked streets and concrete buildings of the city to our flight over the natural beauty of the Never Never Land - the stream - the woods - Peter's secret hiding place in the giant oak.
Everything seemed like a dream. A wonderful, unbelievable dream - a dream of a fantasy world ruled by a fantasy boy - a boy so perfect he may as well have been of my own creation. I wondered how long this could last - if it were possible that this could be my life now. Peter brought me here - to this place - but would he take me back? Would I ask him to?
Lost in thought I hadn't noticed the sound of crashing water from around the corner ahead of me. I ran to it - to water cascading down over the exit. I stepped into the ankle deep pool of fresh warm water and let the waterfall baptise me as I stepped through into the shallows.
Rubbing my eyes - adjusting them to the light of day, I looked up to the blue. Before I had fallen asleep there had been a single yellow sun - now there were two - one just about to set in the west and another at the highest point in the sky. The days here were indeed long.
I walked further into the pool - deeper into the still clear waters. Crouching, I submerged myself, feeling the cool liquid cover my body - and swam.
I stayed in the water for some time - enjoying the cool and refreshing effect it was having me. It banished all thoughts of my nightmare and made me feel clean and renewed. My muscles had begun to ache from the flying - my back and legs in particular. No one ever tells you that in films or books do they? I imagined Superman wanting nothing more than a relaxing long bubble bath in his fortress of solitude after a long day of patrolling the skies of Metropolis, keeping his city safe from the machinations of Lex Luthor or Brainiac.
Laying in the water - floating on my back - I looked back up to the sky. One sun had disappeared altogether now and the other was descending into the west. I heard a noise from the forest; a rustle of leaves and the snapping of twigs. Alerted, I swam to the shore.
My naked feet padded on the soft brown sand - leaving footprints in my wake - my soaked through grey track shorts clung to my skin. The forest had quietened but for the breeze whistling through the leaves. I stayed for a moment - listening to the soft currents of air - waiting for some sort of something -
Turning back to the pool the leaves rustled once more - the braches belched - then a voice:
"Get him boys!"
I spun on my heels - boys erupted forth from the forest, two grabbed my arms and threw me to the sand - as I kicked my legs they were grabbed by one more - holding me down - a fourth jumped on my chest, kneeling and leaning forward - eyeballing me. He pulled a pen knfe and held it close to my throat.
"What the..." I had started to say but -
"Kill the Pirate!" shouted the boy at my legs.
"He don't look like no Pirate," said the shirtless, blonde haired boy on my chest.
"Maybe he's a bloody Pirate spy," said the brunette boy holding my left wrist.
"I'm not a Pirate."
"Kill him anyway." said the one at my legs. I had a feeling that he didn't like me.
I squirmed hard, trying to break free.
"Look!" I shouted. "I'm not a Pirate. I'm not a Pirate spy. I'm Liam. Liam OK! Peter brought me here. I'm a kid. Like you."
The boy on my chest looked at me quizzically and squinting his grey/green eyes - leant forward and sniffed at me. I looked up at him and for the first time realised that he was only wearing an ill-fitting red loin cloth that hung loose at the front. I could see his little cock popping out of the side - his bare ass and smooth balls rested on my chest. The kid was quite the cutie too and as my eyes travelled over his tanned torso and slender young thighs, I could feel myself becoming aroused - my prick twitching in my wet shorts. If any of the boys noticed, they didn't say anything.
"OK," said the boy on my chest finally. "Let him up."
The four boys stood and formed a line as I sat up - trying to cover my erection.
"Sound off." called the boy who had caused my state of arousal.
"Darlan!" - The black boy who had my legs.
"Potter!" - The Asian boy who had my right wrist.
"Lip!" - The boy who was on my chest.
"Potty Mouth!" - The boy who held my left wrist.
"Why are you called Potty Mouth?" I asked.
"Why the fuck do you wanna know?" The boys all laughed. Question answered then.
I looked over my captors - all giggling and whispering to each other - all except Lip who stood eyeballing me suspiciously - his arms folded over his tight bronzed chest.
Without exception all fours boys were beautiful - beyond beautiful. All dressed (or undressed) in ragged and torn clothing.
"Why did Peter bring you here?" asked Lip, unfolding his arms and stepping towards me.
"Yeah," added Potter. "You don't seem so special."
I struggled to answer - words getting caught in my throat - unsure of what to say - whether to say that Peter caught me wanking and thought it a great game or to stay quiet.
"He must know some new games." said Darlan, in what I assumed to be a Brazilian or Portuguese accent. Wearing only a pair of raggedy looking black gym shorts he pushed the others aside and sat down on the beach next to me, the wet sand clinging to his smooth ebony skin. I watched him curl his pretty little toes and wriggle them into the sand. My erection wasn't going anywhere.
"Oh. I know some games."
"Fuckin' show us then!"
"Later. When Peter comes back."
Lip was still staring at me. Sizing me up - unsure if I was telling him the truth or if I was indeed some new pirate spy. He really was incredibly beautiful - almost as beautiful as Peter. They had the same shade of blonde hair, though Lip's was straight and shorter. He looked a little younger - twelve perhaps - his tanned skin was flawless except for a few grazes and small scabs on his shins and knees - his body seemed more defined than Peters - like a gymnast's - each muscle clearly cut and definite - not an ounce of fat on his whole body. My erection began to ache inside my shorts as I noticed the vein that travelled along his bicep. Lip ran his tongue over his thin top lip and flopped down to his seat across from me.
"If you came here with Peter," Lip began, "then how did you get here?" His accent was so soft it took me a while to pick him out as German - Austrian maybe.
"We flew." I answered, trying not to look between his legs as he made himself comfortable - the little red loincloth flapping and showing his sweet young cocklet and hairless balls. I slipped my hand into my still wet shorts to adjust my throbbing five and a half inch prick - but instead I ended up gripping it between my finger tips and sliding the skin up and down on my pole. My eyes rested on his tiny pink nipples, the curves of his forming pectorals - Lip's eyes shot to my hand working my cock and I quickly withdrew.
Potter sat down next to Lip. He seemed older - thirteen - maybe fourteen at the most. He wasn't particularly tall - certainly no taller than Lip but his body looked stronger - less definition but still lightly muscled - like puberty was kicking in. He ran his hands into the sand, letting the grains pass through his young fingers; my eyes followed his arms up to his shoulders and developing chest. His soft tinted skin was impeccable. I would guess that he's half Japanese half Caucasian by his facial features and skin tone.
"What route did you take?" asked Potter.
"What do you mean?"
"Shit! He means there's more than one way into Neverland." Scolded Potty Mouth - pulling at the shoulder straps of his dirty white vest. He was much shorter than the others and fair bit younger - at a guess I would've put him at ten. The ragged old white vest he wore was a good few sizes too big for him and the straps kept falling from his shoulder.
"Err - second on the right and straight on til morning?" I guessed - trying to remember Peter's directions.
"See, he is telling the truth. That's how Peter brought me here too." Darlan ran his fingers through the short dreads on top of his head and leant back on his elbows, giving me full view of his taut young body. Not an inch of him was wasted - he was taller than the others and I would guess at least the same age as me. His little black shorts barely covered him - riding so high up his lean youthful thighs and so low as to only have begun at the base of his adolescent cock - I could see a small patch of short dark pubic hair - he might as well not have been wearing them at all. From his hips to his groin were the deeply cut lines of his Apollo's Belt - I held firm - desperately resisting the urge to run my fingers down them and into his shorts.
"You thought I was a Pirate?"
"Or a Pirate spy." chipped in Potter. "Hook has his men searching the forests and fields every day for our secret hideout."
"The one under the oa..."
Darlan jumped - covered my mouth with his hand. "Sshh" he whispered - letting me go, though I wished he hadn't. "We don't say it out loud. They could be anywhere."
"Who's Hook?" I asked.
"Who's Hook?" mimicked Potty Mouth. "Who's Hook? You? In Neverland! And you ask who the fuck Hook is?" He shook his head - his mop of curly auburn hair swaying as he did. "Hook is the meanest, nastiest cold hearted son of a bitch Pirate that ever sailed the seas. Who's Hook? Pah!"
"Hook is Captain of the Jolly Roger. The ship out at the cove." began Lip, earnestly. "He wants revenge on Peter for cutting off his right hand and feeding it to the crocodile."
"Hook was Blackbeard's boatswain - he taught him everything he knew - until Hook ran him through as he slept one night." added an excited Darlan. "He's the only man that Long John Silver ever feared."
"Hook himself is only afraid of two things;" started Potter, "the sight of his own blood which is as green as the leaves on the trees and that crocodile."
"That's nonsense." said Lip. "We've seen Hook bleed and it's as red as yours and mine. The ONLY thing that frightened him was that croc but he hunted it down and killed that thing a long time ago."
"Peter cut of a man's hand?" I asked unbelievingly - not really buying into their tall tales.
"Not a man. Not a grown-up. A Pirate!" corrected Lip.
"All grown-ups are Pirates," came a voice from above us.
We all looked up in unison and saw Peter gently floating down to us. As his beautiful bare feet touched the sand, the boys darted up and stood to attention in a straight line. Peter ran to me, threw his arms around me and kissed my lips. My heart swelled for him.
Lip curled his mouth, unsure of what to make of Peter's greeting.
"You've met some of the Lost Boys."
"We thought he was a Pirate." said Potter.
"A bloody Pirate spy." corrected Potty Mouth.
"What?" Peter drew his long dagger and pointed it at the boys. "If they hurt you I'll kill them where they stand."
The boys looked nervous - straightened their backs and edged away.
"No, really," I said, "It's cool. Really! They were only defending you're hideout."
Peter eyed them with suspicion - his dagger still drawn and pointing in the direction of the four boys on the beach. The boy's eyes darted from Peter to me. I placed one hand on his bare shoulder and took his wrist holding the dagger with the other.
The boys sighed with relief as sheathed his blade.
"Where are the others?" asked Peter. "Everyone has to meet Liam."
"They're hunting boar on the other side of the island." said Lip.
"In that case it can wait." Peter spun back to me and put his hand on my shoulder. "It'll soon be nightfall we should go back to the hideout. Hooks men are abroad - I saw them rowing Long Tom to the beach and came back to find you."
"Long Tom?" I asked.
"A row boat," said Potter.
"Come," ordered Peter as we followed him back through the waterfall.
In the tunnel leading back to Peter's hideout, Darlan, Potter and Potty Mouth led the way, Peter walked beside me while Lip followed on behind us. I watched the boys - Through the dim light my eyes fixed on the firm juvenile arses of the three boys in front of me. All three of them had near perfect rumps; I wanted to reach out - to cup each one of their young buttocks in my hands.
As we neared the smaller tunnel that had to be crawled through - Potty Mouth went first, followed by Darlan then Potter, then me. Each time I put my hand forward I grazed Potter's bare feet - at one point they'd stopped without me noticing and my face came into contact with the fourteen-year- olds butt - my face pressing into his torn blue and white cotton boxer briefs. I took a deep whiff - smelling the boy - he didn't smell bad - he smelt of unadulterated sweaty boy. My prick jolted in my shorts - my mind's eye flashed with images of me pressing my tongue to his pink rosebud like opening.
We knew we had reached the end when little by little, more light began to creep into the tunnel as Potty Mouth opened the red door to Peter's hideout.
As we all crawled inside, I was doing my best to conceal my erection, the thought of rimming Potters tight fourteen year-old hole still buzzing about my head.
"I'm tired." said Potty Mouth - rubbing his eyes with his fists and yawning wide - stretching his big pink lips as far as they would go. In that instant - the thought of my cock stuffing that little boy's mouth as he yawned - the thought of his young pink lips straining to take all of my meat into his ten- year-old maw was driving me crazy. These boys - this place - Neverland was driving me crazy.
"G'night." Pulling off his vest top and throwing it to the floor - he padded through to one of the hammock rooms.
Peter's hand went to the small of my back, his fingers running circles on my skin. He put his mouth to my ear and whispered: "I want to play."
Lip frowned - his eyes on Peter's lips in my ear and his hand on my back.
Peter pulled hard on a cord that was hanging close to the wall. There was a rattling above us - a clang and a whip. Falling from the top of the tree was a rope ladder - branches tied together with twine.
"Climb."
"Huh?" The steps seemed to be nothing but splinters and the rope looked thread bare.
"Climb." Peter repeated.
Peter jumped onto the rope ladder and began to climb up the inside of the tree.
"Peter." Called Darlan, "Where you going? Don't you wanna play a game or something?"
"Later. I've got something to show Liam."
Hesitantly, I began to climb the rickety rope ladder with Peter just ahead of me. Step by step and foot by foot, I took each step upwards cautiously. Peter, however, had no such care - tearing up the ladder - the rope stretched and creaked - the wooden steps rasped. The ladder bounced from the wall of the tree to the centre of the room, swaying and spinning and making me dizzier and dizzier. I needed to find focus - to keep my attention on something other than the possible fall to my death. I kept my attention focused upward, my eyes straight - focusing on what was ahead of me. What was ahead of me was Peter's arse - his firm, narrow arse. Every time he lifted his strong little legs from one step to the next the leaves that wrapped themselves around him parted in places - giving discreet hints of the supple tanned flesh beneath them. Each golden globe moved with comfort and ease as the boy worked his way up the ladder. If I was going to die, I was going to die looking at perfection.
When we had reached the top, Peter leaned across the wall and pushed open a hatch just big enough to squeeze through. He clambered over to and through the hatch, popping his head back inwards to see what was keeping me.
"Come on slow polk."
"This would've been easier if you'd have flown me up here Peter."
"Where's the fun in that?" and he disappeared through the hatch.
I climbed the last few steps, my arms beginning to ache from the strain of trying to keep the ladder steady, and grabbed a hold of the ledge. Hauling myself through the hatch I felt safer - more sure footed on steady ground.
When I finally stood - out in the open air - the world that greeted me was beyond what I could have expected. Standing on a wooden platform half the size of a tennis court, I saw that The Never Never Land after nightfall had changed from a domain of a summer day's playful adventure to one of romantic wildness. The air around me was warm but clear - the humid nights back home a long forgotten memory. Peering through the leaves on the branches above me - the sky was an inky black with stars so bright they may all have been suns burning in some distant galaxy. As the heavens met the horizon, the sky became lighter, a blanket of blue and mauve sleeping behind three moons - one moon so close that I couldn't cover it with my hands - the sea before and below me glistened a burnished silver from their glare.
I heard a cough from behind me and turned. Peter looked up at me through his eyelashes, an impish grin spread across his face. He held out his hand and I took it - pulled him in towards me - wrapped my arms around his body and kissed his soft, pink lips.
"Peter, this... this place... It's amazing."
Peter didn't answer - instead he responded by planting his lips to mine - his hands ran from my back and into my hair - his tongue parted my lips and softly searched my mouth.
I slid my fingertips down his back, feeling his silken skin gooseflesh under my touch. Breaking from his lips, I kissed his cheek, his neck, lightly biting and licking at his sensitive skin. I turned his body away from me and drew him in again - pressing myself into his back - my fattening cock into his arse. My lips grazed the nape of his neck - his shoulder - Peter leant into me, purring like a kitten. With my left hand I peeled down his sash, hiked my thumbs into his shorts and pushed them down.
My fingers gently stoked his nipples - two ripe berries - circled them, eagerly pinching them to arousal. I let my hand search lower, gliding over his body, following every burgeoning muscle in his taut young body. I traced his abs, run a finger over his navel - he bucked into me and giggled.
Continuing to kiss his neck, my left hand cupped his juvenile ball sack, the delicate skin feeling like heaven in my hands, I rolled his little orbs in my palm and he sighed. My right hand found his stiff little prick - no thicker than a felt tip pen - I wrapped my fist around it, all four and a bit inches and drew back his foreskin. Gently caressing his adolescent member, I continued to kiss his flesh. This blonde haired, blue eyed young boy deserved to be worshiped for everything that he was - everything that his very existence meant.
I spun him around once more, found his lips with mine and kissed him deeply - as if I were trying to inhabit him. He shucked down my shorts and smiled at me, grinding our erections into each other. The feeling of his hard stick of flesh pressing into mine sent me into overdrive. I held him tight, my hands working his firm little buttocks - it was time to step it up - to introduce him to what else we could offer one another.
"Lay down."
In unison we found our way to the floor - our lips barely parting. With the boy on his back, I continued to stroke his erection with my fingers while my mouth worked its way down his lovely young body. I ran my tongue the length of his clavicle - drew it over his pectorals, taking in the sweet and salty taste of his skin - the aroma of a boy, barely in puberty, who has ridden the wind.
Still working his cock with my hand, my own straining against his skin, the exposed purple head rubbing against the smattering of light blonde hairs on his thigh; I took each of his alert nipples into my mouth. I ran my tongue around them, sucked on them, nibbled and adored them. His hips were responding to my actions, bucking into my hand, I slowed my stroke - not wanting him to reach orgasm before I was ready. Lifting my eyes from his young chest for a moment I could see glistening orbs of precum forming on the head of his little cock.
I went back to bathing his torso with my tongue, licking and kissing his fine smooth skin. My tongue followed the path that my fingers took moments earlier and traced the lines of his abdominal muscles - his skin stretched tight when he inhaled - displaying each one in all its glory. My mouth found his navel, his very centre. I kissed and licked at it, sending him into waves of laughter and convulsions of pleasure. I kissed the smooth skin of his belly, taking lung fulls of his scent.
As I licked down his forming obliques, the boy groaned and breathed deep, my prick rubbed against his knee and his calve - leaving a trail of precum not unlike a snail trail. I had never been so hard - never felt my cock straining to be released from its skin as it did then.
When I let go of his cock, Peter raised his head, wondering why I had stopped. I smiled at him and lifting his right leg over my shoulder, moved between his slender young thighs.
I kissed the inside of his thighs, the sleek skin beneath my lips - then I kissed his hairless nut sack. He raised his head again - questioning - unsure of where I was going. I took each of his balls individually into my mouth; sucking and running my tongue around each one, he raised his knees, put his feet flat to the floor and groaned with pleasure. I took them both in - his little pouch drawn tight below his cock. Soaking his small balls with my spit, I let them pop out, one at a time. I sucked my forefinger into my mouth and then placed it at his perineum - massaged downwards until I found his tight pink, little hole and ran rings around it with my fingertip.
"Oh... Oh... Oh... that's amazing." whispered Peter. "Don't stop."
My eyes focused on his small boner. It looked strong - unbreakable. Thin little blue veins running to its little purple head. I ran my tongue from its base to its head - letting it brush my cheek on the way back down.
"Oh... Oh... Never stop."
I did it again, all four and a bit inches of Peter Pan's young boy flesh was bathed in my spittle - his pre-cum - so sweet on the tip of my tongue. With my left hand I groped his sodden slight balls, with my right I played tentatively with his boy hole - with my mouth - I engulfed his young cock. He tasted of everything and nothing - sweet and meaty, fresh and a little sour -
"Oh... Oh... Never... Never..."
I worked his whole cock with my mouth, its tip just hitting the back of my throat. I ran my tongue over his small purple head - his foreskin rolled back - I lapped at his piss slit, his hips bucked wildly as he fucked my face - before I knew it; my finger had worked its way into his tight hole up to the first knuckle, his warm velvet insides beckoning for more. Continuing to work his cock with my mouth, to worship that which made him more boy than imp - I lapped at him - felt at one with him - felt myself nearing orgasm without so much as a single pump. I pulled back, admired his cock glistening in the moonlight - admired the luminosity in the pale silver glow.
Returning my lips to his youthful prick - my finger worked its way deeper inside the young boy, searching for that sweet spot - the little nub just behind his...
I couldn't take it - Peter fucking my face, my finger fucking his hole, his yelps and whimpers. I released his balls and grabbed my own cock, with barely four or five swift strokes I shot a hot load of thick cum to the floor - quickly followed by another and another dripping over my knuckles.
"Liam... I can't hold... much..."
His little prick twitched it in my mouth, spasmed once, twice, and then popped - my mouth filled with hit after hit of his adolescent spunk. Peter crowed. He crowed so loud that birds flew from trees around us, that had I the wherewithal to look, I'd have seen the moon herself look to see what the commotion was. Keeping his young cock in my mouth - I tried to swallow it all but some dribbled down the side of my lips and onto my chin.
Peter pulled himself away from me, then drew me up and into a kiss, his tongue taking back some of the cum he'd just spent.
"That was... why aren't we always doing that? Always?" he asked.
I smiled at him and kissed him back.
"Is there more? If there's more you have to show me."
"I'll show you another time. I think we're both kind of spent right now." I replied, holding him to me.
"Well maybe you can show me." That was Lip's voice.
We spun on our heels. Lip was standing before us in the hatch, scowling and angry - and from the tenting in his loin cloth, very aroused.
To be continued...