Fourteen again by badboi666
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This story is - guess what! - fantasy. If sex with boys and dogs isn't your thing, go away. If, as is much more likely, you've come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about sex with a Labrador, a 14-year-old and a 13-year-old then make yourself comfortable - you're in the right place. Remember the three things:
1 Cum 2 Wipe 3 Donate
=============================================================================== Scat games with Steve
New readers will need something by way of introduction. Fourteen Again is a long series of Chapters filed under Adult/Youth. It might be helpful if an edited version of the first paragraphs of Chapter 1 are reprinted here.
When I woke on the morning of my 70th birthday there was a tiny fairy perched at the end of my bed.
"Happy birthday," she said, "I have a wish for you."
"Anything I want?" I asked, "even if it's impossible?"
"Of course, that's how 70th birthday wishes work. Tell me what you want."
I was born during the War, and when I was 14 and growing up in London the whole world seemed exciting, and out of reach. I had been introduced to masturbation at the age of 7 by an older boy (who was all of 8) and spent much of the time by the time I reached 14 in a state of heightened sexual desire - wholly unfulfilled apart from rare (very rare) mutual jerk-offs with one or two other boys who lived nearby.
"What I'd like is to be 14 again but to know everything I know now. Can you fix that?"
"Of course."
She waved her wand and suddenly I was a 14-year-old standing at Kings Cross in London.
One of the boys I met was 13-year-old Steve who lived with his brother Bob (14) in North London. He told me one day that he was desperate to experiment with shit, but Bob refused. They were both happy with pissing on each other, but Steve wanted his boundary to be stretched. Needless to say I was only too happy to oblige.
20 August 1957
As Bob had no interest in shit games it had been agreed that he would spend the day at Jack's where they would get their rocks off in other ways - ways that Steve and I had shared with both of them. Today, however, would be different. When Bob went off to Jack's Steve and I went into his bedroom and sat on the bed. "Look," I said, "all I know is that you want someone to shit on you, and Bob doesn't want to. I'm happy with that, but what do you really want? Have you done any shit games at all?"
He explained what he wanted. "Ever since I was little, before Greg appeared, I was fascinated by shitting. I liked the feeling of having a shit - I think it must be the same as liking being fisted now. The feeling of something really big just up inside me. Anyway, when I was 6 I didn't know anything about wanking, so I didn't associate the nice feeling of having a shit with anything sexual. That came later when Greg seduced us. Even though I was getting orgasms with Bob and Greg, and by myself, I still didn't associate them with the nice shit feeling. It wasn't until about three years ago when Bob and I were fooling around in the bath after a fucking session that he was giggling so much that he accidentally pissed on me. Well, you've seen what we do now - that accident opened the doors to all the piss fun we've had since. Bob loves it just as much as I do. Soon after that first time we were doing it again and I needed to shit. Straight out I asked him if he wanted me to shit on him, just like I'd been pissing on him seconds before. He was cross, and thumped me. Well, we have fights all the time - or we did then - so that didn't mean anything. I went and had a shit in the bog and no more was said about it until a week or so later. He was being affectionate after a nice 69 and he asked me what I meant about shitting on him. I told him what I've just told you, and he just hugged me. He said he loved me, and he loved the fucking and the sucking and all that, and the pissing, but the thought of shitting made him feel sick - really sick, throwing up. So that was that. I haven't asked since, well, not seriously. I've mentioned it now and again, hoping he might have changed his mind or got curious, but no. Then you showed up, Peter."
"Well, you've waited a long time, and your wait is over. But you still haven't told me what you actually want."
"I don't know what I want, Peter, until I've tried it. You seem to know a lot more than we do about all kinds of sex techniques and Bob and I have learnt a huge amount from you. I want you to show me what shit games you know, so that I can experience them and find out whether they're as much of a turn-on in real life as they are in my imagination. Does that make sense?" and he scooted into my arms. "It's OK, Steve," I said, cuddling him, "you will never meet anyone quite as hard to shock as I am. Of course I'll show you what I know. Let's get our stuff off and see where it goes, OK?"
A few minutes later we were naked lying on his bed. We were lying side by side facing each other. This was conversation time, not sex time. "First of all," I said, "when did you last shit?" "The evening before last," he said, "I needed a shit most of yesterday afternoon and evening, but I kept it in because of today. I need a shit now." "Good," I said, "that'll make things better. When did you last eat meat?" "Yesterday dinner time. Why?" "If you're planning on shit games you should avoid meat for 3 days. Meat shit isn't nice to play with, it's lumpy, whereas vegetables or cereals are great. They make bulky shit which is softer and much nicer to play with." "I had no idea," he said, "tell me more." "Well, the best diet is cereal - corn flakes, porridge, and vegetables - any vegetables, but greens are best. As well as being good for you they make great shit." "I'm not sure," he said, "but I'll give it a try." "So that's the diet sorted. What do you want to do, Steve? Tell me."
"I told you, I don't know. What do you like, Peter?"
I was waiting for this. It was perhaps unfair of me to insist on his telling me, but I wanted to be certain that he genuinely had no idea of what activities he wanted to happen. It would be up to me to make the running and see how far he wanted to follow. With luck we would reach a stage where he started to suggest things. I took the plunge.
"OK, this is what I'd like to do. You put on a pair of pants. We go into the shower and fool about until we need to shit, then you shit in your pants. Very carefully you step out of them and I put them on back to front. When I pull them up my cock will be squashed into your shit." "That sounds really good," said Steve, "I'm stiff already just thinking about it." "So I see," I said, reaching down and giving his cock a gentle squeeze. "What happens then?" he asked. "Well, we can smear it about inside the pants and get really messy. If we want to piss we can, and that'll just make the mess sloppier, but that's more fun. Then when I'm good and messy you put the pants back on and you get messy. I like having shit smeared on my chest and below - I don't like it on my face. Shit's a great lube too. I've only ever done shit on my own, so this is new for me too. I've played with my own, but doing it with another boy has always been something I've wanted, just like you. Maybe we could fuck each other, we'll have to see how it goes."
Steve twisted round so that he could 69 with me. "That's nice, but don't let's cum," I said, "there's more fun to be had in the shower." But we still spent a nice few minutes gently sucking on each other's cock and getting ourselves well and truly aroused.
Soon Steve said, "I really need to shit." "Good," I said, "get some pants on and get on with it." Steve got a white pair from his drawer. I was glad to see they were proper briefs as boxers are useless for what I had in mind. You need pants that don't let the shit fall out of the leg holes. He put them on and stood in the shower. I could tell that now the moment had arrived Steve was nervous so I took him in my arms and nuzzled his head. "Don't be nervous," I said, "no-one apart from me knows what we're doing and I'm as keen as you are. This is what you've been dreaming of for years, just let it happen and enjoy it. It'll be good, I promise." He smiled, "Yes, you're right. It just seems an awfully big step." "And fucking and being fisted isn't a big step?" He gave me a tight cuddle. "I'm bursting," he said. "Piss or shit?" I asked. "You'll see any second," he said.
I moved my hands from being round his chest to his buttocks. I could feel his muscle tense, then my hand moved to the seat of his pants and I felt a lump of shit gently pushing its way out of his arse. "Yeah!" I breathed, "let it go, kid." He gave a big push and suddenly his pants were full. He shuddered and half-collapsed into my arms. "Good, eh?" I asked. He nodded. The smell was powerful, but we were expecting it, so neither of us was bothered by it. "Hold onto me while I take your pants off," I told him, and carefully lowered his stinking pants over his hard cock and down his legs. He looked down to see what it looked like. There was a large piece of shit there, about 7 inches long, lying in his pants like someone in a hammock. Just right for nestling my cock in. "Looks good," he said. Very very carefully, in order not to spill any of the shit, I put the pants on back to front, raising them only as far as my knees. "Ready?" I asked, "there's no turning back once they're pulled up." "Yeah, can't wait," he said, "let's get on with it."
I leaned forward and carefully pulled the pants up tight. My cock was now lying in his shit, which luckily wasn't too lumpy. I told Steve to spread the shit over my cock and balls, smearing it into my arse crack. "Inside or outside your pants?" he asked. "Whatever you like, it's up to you." I closed my eyes so that I could enjoy the sensation of his hot soft shit engulfing my cock and balls as he smeared the contents of his pants all over my boy bits. His hands were filthy now and as we embraced my back became stained with shit. "How do you like it?" I murmured into his ear, licking it as I did so. "Oh Peter, it's much better than I dreamed it would be. It's so hot! Can I put them on now?"
Very carefully we swopped over and as the filthy pants were pulled up Steve's legs he shuddered with pleasure. "Oh Christ, Peter, this is far better than I dreamed it would be." He pulled the pants right up as tight as he could and the shit squished into all his crevices. "Can I piss now?" he said. "Course. You can piss when you like and as far as I'm concerned you don't need to warn me. Just do it where and when you like, and I'll do the same." We both started pissing and immediately a brown stream ran down both our legs. I put my hands inside the pants he was wearing and started to spread the foul mess on Steve's belly past his navel and up to his nipples. Then I reached in and coated his arse cheeks. "Do me," I moaned, as I was getting within cumming distance.
Our hands were busy coating the other's body with a mixture of shit and piss. Inevitably there was a lot of contact with straining cocks. "Lie down," I said. I knelt beside him and put my hand inside his pants. His cock was hard, but even as I took hold of it a stream of golden piss sprayed out. I started to wank him furiously - when I'd done this on my own it was vital to me to cum as fast as possible while the sexual high of having my wanking hand splashed the mess everywhere. I guessed Steve would want the same, and his cries convinced me I was right. Steve was a noisy cummer at the best of times, but the 'aaahs!' and 'yesses', as well as the 'oh fucks' were more insistent than I'd heard him do before. "Oh, Jesus, Peter, I'm cumming" and streaks of white boy spunk shot from his filthy cock into the brown pissy soup. "Oh, oh, oh, oh, that's so good'" he moaned as the power of his orgasm subsided. I damn nearly came myself just watching. "I'll do you in a minute, just let me get my breath back." "No hurry," I said, although to be honest I was urgently needing release: it was as much as I could do not to thrash my cock to release myself. He was as good as his word though, and after a minute his hand reached over to feel my hard cock waiting for his attentions. "Fast?" "Yes."
I have lost count of the number of times I've cum since I came back, but I know that the cum Steve produced then was in the top five. Perhaps even a medal winner. I can only ascribe it to the build-up, and the unusual (to put it mildly) circumstances in which the orgasm took place.
After a couple of minutes, when we'd both got back to normal - apart, that is, from being covered in shit - it was time for more adventuring. "Do we shower now?" asked Steve. "Not unless you think we've finished," I said, "and I don't for one minute think we have." "What d'you mean? What else can we do?" "Haven't you noticed that I haven't shat yet?" I removed his pants and put them in a corner of the bath. We were now both naked. "Kneel," I said, "I want to get at your arsehole." He grinned - he was enjoying this more than he'd dreamed. Using the bodily fluids so copiously provided by our bodies I was easily able to get the full ration of three exploratory fingers up Steve's arse - wide open still. I could feel more shit, so I pulled it out with my finger and smeared it on his back. "No, clean now - well, not clean exactly, but no more shit."
"Can you piss up my arse?" he asked, "it'd be really mucky if you could." I gave my cock a couple of strokes to firm it up a bit so I could get it in and soon I was deep inside him. Clasping him as I pissed into him I could feel the heat of his body through every pore of my shit-covered skin. When my bladder was empty - it took quite a while - I told him to clench his arse tight shut when I took my cock out. "I'm going to lie down and I want you to squat over me and force everything that's still up your arse onto me. It'll make a real mess and splash everywhere. Squat facing me with your arse directly over my navel - that way some'll go up onto my chest and the rest'll go onto my cock." "OK," and I could feel his arse lips clenching tight as my cock slipped out. He moved into position. "Now hold it in as long as you can," I said. "You bastard! that's a dirty trick," but he said it with a delightfully evil grin, so I wasn't too worried. To his credit he managed to keep it in for a couple of minutes, though the effort was pretty big - his face went red as he had to hold his breath - and suddenly "here it is, ooooh!" and an enormous gush of piss flew out of his arse onto me. As I knew would happen there was also a lot of shit, shit which had been washed out by my piss enema. Nice soft shit too, ideal for me to grab and, rubbing it in both hands, smear it on his thighs and arse. "Wow!" was all he could say. I reached my filthy hands up and draw him down onto me. "Piss as much as you can now," I whispered. Within a few seconds I could feel the intensely erotic sensation of hot - really hot, it seemed - piss trickling onto my belly and down my side adding to the pool in which I was lying. I have often lain in my bath (empty, of course) and poured a trickle of warm water onto myself, but it just doesn't work. It's got to be piss to give a sexual kick, whether my own (direct from the tap or from a bottle) or, better, some other guy's. Best of all of course is if the guy's age starts with a 1.
And there we lay for quite a while until the pool of piss began to be too cold. "Come on, kiddo, time to shower and sluice this mess away." "Are we finished?" he asked. "No, but that's the end of the first session. We'll have another later when I need to shit. Don't worry, it's cooking nicely and you'll get a different sort of treat then."
We got out and I hosed our feet enough so that we could get as far as the shower without getting shit on the floor. We soaped each other thoroughly for several minutes and by the time we had finished we were pretty much back to normal. I then showed him how to clean out the bath, washing the shit down the plug hole. No need to be too thorough there as it would get mucky again later. Clean, smelling only slightly of shit, we went downstairs and out of the house. In the Green near Winchmore Hill station, less than half a mile away, there was a small shop where we bought hot sausage rolls and Tizer (a truly horrible mixture to anyone over the age of about 14) and consumed them in the street (horrors!) on the way back to Steve's house. Knowing that we would be playing again in the bath Steve got us each a large glass of juice and, when we'd drained it, refilled with another. After two large glasses and the fizzy Tizer our bladders would be full soon.
"You told me yesterday you had loads of toys here," I reminded him, "where are they?" We went into Bob's room. "We keep them in this drawer," he said, opening a veritable treasure trove of adult stuff that no 14-year-old would be able to buy. "Did Greg get all this?" "Of course. Most of it was stuff he chose, but he's always been willing to buy stuff we want." I examined what was there. Much of it was to my 90-year-old eyes (gosh! had I reached that far) fairly normal gay stuff, albeit not normal for boys of their age. There were different kinds of lube, several butt plugs - mostly fairly small, suitable perhaps for the first penetration of a young teenager being introduced to the joys of anal sex by Bob or Steve, but working up to one Dan-sized. There were two quite a bit larger "Can you get these up?" "Oh yes, but it took a long time working up to them. This one's no bigger than your forearm, and that's been exploring, hasn't it?" "It has; would you like it to explore again?" His smile widened, "Do you really need to ask?" Other toys included cock straps of leather and one with inward-pointed studs. "Who the hell uses that?" I asked. It looked fearsome. "Greg liked it when he still had a cock, but no-one uses it now. We've tried it, but it's far too painful for us. Neither of us is into pain - well, not too much pain; a bit of discomfort's OK." There was clothing too - rubber vest and pants, and leather with zips in all the right places. These looked small enough to have been bought for boys, rather than men. "Do you wear these?" I asked, picking up the leather shorts. "Sometimes, do you want me to put them on for you?" "I'd love it, but they'll get covered with shit." "Oh, that doesn't matter. Greg will clean them like he cleans all our stuff, and he'll probably get a kick from it."
I was interested in the whole Greg business. I knew that he had seduced Bob and Steve when he became their 'nanny' several years ago (they had been 7 and almost 6) and that their sexual horizons had been hugely expanded (as had their arseholes) by Greg until three years ago. His accident then had led to the removal of his damaged cock and balls. "What does he do to you now?" I asked. "Well, his mouth works as well as it always did, and he's a first-class cock sucker. His fingers are good, and if you met him you'd see he had fairly small hands, so we can both take his fisting. We both love cocks up our arse, and the feeling of cum jetting up into us, so we do each other. It's pretty good really." I could only agree - these two were probably getting more sex than most adults, even if it was somewhat unorthodox. An idea crept into my mind - if it worked I would maybe get the benefit before the end of the month, and Bob and Steve would get the benefit for as long as they wanted.
"Have you ever heard of a sling?" I asked. "You mean in a sex context, not for a broken arm?" I explained what a sling was, and how being in one opened up ... so many things. "Can you get Greg to buy one, do you think? The best kind use a kind of light scaffolding framework and the leather hangs from it. I think it would cost about £40." "Blimey, that's a fortune." "Yes, but luckily I have enough to buy it for you." (My £400 had barely been depleted since I arrived, and I still had almost £300. Buying these two a sling wasn't going to do any lasting damage, and if Greg could get it inside 10 days I'd be getting the benefit of a good sling session. "How can you just give me £40?" asked Steve in astonishment. "I told you, I'm magic," I said, "but the money's real enough." It didn't take long to persuade Steve to go along with my plan and I got the money from the bottom of my trusty backpack. "Tell Greg exactly what you want, Steve." "You'd be better telling him yourself," he said, "that way he'll be more likely to get it right. He'll be back later - why not stay?" I was in two minds. I didn't really want to meet the creepy Greg, but I did want him to buy a sling. As usual the desire of my arse got the better of my head. "OK."
"That's settled then. What next?" asked Steve. "Well, I reckon I'll need a shit in half an hour, possibly less. What would you like to do before then while we wait?" He thought for a moment. "What I'd like is to cuddle and smooch with you. Bob and I do all sorts of stuff, but we don't cuddle very often except after we come. Would you cuddle me?" Less than a minute later our clothes were in a heap on the floor and we were entwined on Steve's bed, legs, arms tangled, our mouths feverishly trying to consume each other's tongue, lips awash with teen-hormone-driven saliva. Oddly our cocks didn't join in, this was all about kissing and tight tight holding. "Oh, Peter, this is so nice," he sighed. What a shame, I thought, that something as basic as a cuddle from another human being was so unusual for this boy. What were his parents thinking of? He was getting far more sex than most teenagers, and sex, moreover, from a vastly greater repertoire, but good old-fashioned loving cuddles were missing. "Doesn't Bob cuddle you?" "Yes, I told you, but only after we cum." "Don't you think he might miss cuddles as much as you do - if he does and you give him a nice warm naked, no sex involved, cuddle just like we've done, he might be as happy as you are. Try it." His eyes glistened, "I will, Peter."
Having said all that there's no reason why a nice naked no-sex-involved cuddle can't after 15 minutes gradually become a nice naked let's-think-about-sex cuddle, as ours did. I reached down and felt his cock. It was chubby but very soon it started to harden. He broke away from me and looked at mine, still soft. "You're like all old men," he said, "you can't get it up as fast as a 13-year-old." I am pleased to tell you that he applied his 13-year-old skills to remedy this failing - the tools used on this occasion being his lips. It was reassuring to discover that the passionate bruising to which they had been subjected in our smooching had not impaired their fellating skill. "Don't make me cum," I warned him. He stopped sucking and started licking instead, so I scooted into a 69 formation and we spent a while just gently licking - the cock-sucking equivalent of the cuddling we'd done earlier. Soon it was time to move. "Get a little lube on your finger and see what you can find up my arse," I said. "I wonder what it'll be," he mused as he lubed himself, "let's see ... aha! I detect some kind of blockage here ... will it go away if I poke it? ... no ... shall I pull it out?" "No, I have a much better idea. Go and lie down in the bath again." "Don't you want me to put the leather shorts on?" "Yeah, go on."
I'm naked and full of shit, he's got the sexy tight leathers on and is lying on his back in the bath. "Ready?" "Yup. Do your worst, big boy." I gave him his instructions. He was to lie completely still, and his arms were to remain by his side until I told him he could move. He was not to piss until told. He grinned. "You're gonna do all the work then, eh?" I knew I had to shit right now. I squatted down facing him with my arse just north of the top of the leathers - no point in wasting good shit on anything that wasn't boy skin, not yet, anyway.
I pushed gently and the tip of my shit emerged. "Can I speak?" he said. "Yes, the dirtier the better." "Your shit is about an inch out of your arse ... now it's getting longer ... it's touching my belly." "Like it?" "You bet!" "Then here's the rest," I said and pushed hard, scooting along his body as I did so. My shit - all in one piece - lay along the middle of his body. It started an inch below his navel and reached 7 or 8 inches towards his chest. "Fucking bloody hell! that's something special," he breathed, "disgusting and sexy at the same time." I pushed again, but there was no more. Slowly, very slowly, I lowered myself over him until I was only half an inch above the long trail of hot shit on his 13-year-old body. I lowered my face and kissed him softly. I lifted my face an inch and said, "You can move your arms now," at the same time lowering my face and kissing him more deeply. As I expected his arms were instantly round my back and he pulled me down on top of him, mashing my shit between our two bodies. I writhed about so that we were both well smeared.
I reached behind me and unzipped his shorts - the zip went all the way from front to back: they were the kind of shorts which could be unzipped for fucking or being fucked. His cock, like mine fully erect, popped up into the mess. Now that his genitals would get the benefit I started to piss - not a lot, just enough to make things juicy. He felt me doing so, and moments later his cock was pissing too. "Don't do much," I said, "I want that thing up me." Quickly we moved so that he could fuck me, and before he put his cock in he used a handful of shit to smear all round my arsehole and lube his cock. In it went, filthy and stinking and utterly wonderful. No sooner was his cock right in, pressing his filthy body against mine, that he unleashed all that juice and Tizer. "Fuck me while you're pissing," I muttered, "never mind the mess." He immediately started a vigorous fucking and of course the piss went everywhere. I have noted earlier that the bath was big enough for 6 people - it was just as well. "I've finished pissing," he said. I clenched tight as he withdrew and he knew what to do next. I emptied my bowels onto him as he laid on his back - mostly piss, but a few bits of shit as well. "Your turn," I said, and this time I filled his arse with hot urgent piss. Moments later I was on my back again and he was hovering over me, his arse full of the promise of a drenching with golden boy piss and, if I was lucky, some nice shit too. "Let go," I said. He smiled at me and relaxed his muscles. No, he didn't relax his muscles, he pushed as hard as he could. The splash from my piss as it was squirted onto my belly soaked me from head to foot, but my sexual lust was so high that I didn't care that my hair got drenched. I reached forward to catch any shit that he had, and got a good handful which I rubbed on his chest and my right arm. "Kneel, I'm going to fist you," I said.
I didn't expect much resistance as he was as full of lust as I was, and my arm went in smoothly all the way to my elbow. He sighed, "Oh, Peter, this is magic." I moved my hand about and very soon he cried "Aaaah! cum!" and his shitty cock spewed out more cum than I'd seen it squirt before. I reached round with my left hand, almost as shitty as my right, and milked his cock. "Oooh! yes!" he said, "that's nice. I usually hate having it touched after I cum, but that's good." So good that he toppled over sideways with my hand still up his arse. I took it out slowly, an action I could feel being resisted by the muscles in his arse and by his arse lips, red, purple, brown, winking, anxious not to be vacated. All that remained was my orgasm. I was about to ask him to wank me when to my astonishment he offered to suck me off. "Are you sure? It's very shitty." "Yeah, but who cares?" and he gave my cock a cursory wipe with his far from clean hand and took it straight into his mouth. So grateful was I for this that I clasped his head in my hands, accidentally getting shit in his hair, while he licked and sucked me to a shattering cum in his mouth. Like his, mine was immense.
As with our morning session we lay wallowing in the mess in a post-orgasmic glow until it got cold. We went to the shower where it took us half an hour to get every trace of stink off us - hair is a bugger, as I've observed before. You can shave pubes but unless you're a skinhead there's not a lot you can do about head hair. Anyway, we were clean and we set about cleaning the bath. A quick second shower and less than an hour after our massive cums we were just two schoolboys wondering about some biscuits. Before we went downstairs in search of food Steve stood in front of me and looked me in the eyes. "Peter," he said, "that was the hottest thing I've ever done. I suppose that makes me utterly weird, but I don't care. Thank you so much," and he gave me the kind of kiss that isn't remotely sexual, but was full of tenderness.
Steve led me down to the kitchen and got biscuits and juice (how I wanted a gin and tonic right then!) and we were settling down to it when Greg walked in.
And there, my friends, the shitty tale ends, at least for the time being. My doings in 1957 are detailed under "Fourteen Again" in the Nifty Adult/Youth section. As you can see from the story so far the idea of a sling is uppermost in my mind. I'm sure Greg will buy one, but only if enough of you email me to tell me you'd like to hear more about how Steve and I love shit games. So over to you guys. badboi666@btinternet.com
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