Shelter from the Storm Pt. 02 - Sex Stories

Shelter from the Storm Pt. 02

... was good: bread, butter, fruits, and cheese, all of it in large portions and all of it delicious. James had put on a shirt and jeans. I wasn't allowed a shirt, it turned out: boys like me were required to be topless at all times. Instead, all I wore was another pair of the little pink shorts. Wearing this with nothing else gave me a delicious thrill. It made my heart pound to think that all a man had to do was pull down my shorts, and my ass would be fully exposed, naked, ready for the taking.

But at the same time, and for the exact same reason, I was starting to grow nervous again. I knew that very soon now, we would reach the moment when we left this room, and James introduced me (gave me? handed me over?) to some other, unknown men in this fortress. And the thought of that moment made my stomach churn. The past twelve hours had been extraordinary, giving up my body for James and Sam. But was I really ready to let any other man treat me the same way -- with no consent, no say in the matter, no choice?

I picked hesitantly at the last of my food. "James," I asked. "What do ... how does this place work, really? I mean --" I felt myself blushing as he raised an amused eyebrow at me. "I mean, I know I'm ... I know what I'm here for. If I stay. But how does it actually work? How do you all live in this place?"

James grinned. "Well," he said. "There are two types of men in our community. We usually call them men and boys. Or sometimes, big boys and little boys. Sam and I ...

... are big boys, Aston."

I blushed again, thinking about their cocks.

"The men tend to be bigger," James went on. "Sometimes older as well, although nobody is much above forty. We have to be very fit, because we do all the hard work. Not that there's really much work to do here -- the community basically runs itself. But the men guard the fortress, keep things running, and go on expeditions into the world outside, to take things that we need. So we have to be strong enough to look after ourselves." I nodded, my eyes running over him, remembering his and Sam's toned, tough bodies.

"And then," James continued, "there are the boys."

Involuntarily I felt myself shiver.

"The boys are like you, Aston. Most of them are between eighteen and twenty-five. They keep fit, of course, but they're all smaller, softer ... weaker." He didn't make it sound like a bad thing.

"The boys never leave the fortress. They help to grow the food, but they never do the dangerous work that the men do. They serve the meals at dinners, they fetch and carry, and they do all the easy little tasks that need doing. But that's not why we keep them, of course -- and anyway it takes barely any time. Most of the boys are free from work most of their days. They get to live here in comfort ... so long as they do as they're told, of course."

He shot me a wicked grin, and my stomach churned.

"You see, Aston, boys in this community exist for one purpose, and one purpose only. They have no say in our ...