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The Eternal Youth - The Sequel
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
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The Eternal Youth -- the Sequel
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by Drow Elf
<**( Radix Mallorum )**>
Written Sometime & Somewhere
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"Is this sodomy?" asked Tom, half in Ernest.
--Anonymous
I daresay the 18th century was trying for me, inasmuch I
found myself obligated by the Ministry of War to serve in the
Revolutionary War against you uncivil Americans, whom we
Londoners liked to call Yankee Doodle Dandies. I had no desire
to be shipped off to the other side of the world to brawl with
barbarians! But alas, I have always lacked any sensibility when
it came to financial matters, and being deeply in debt, I was
presented the option of being sent to debtor's prison or becoming
a soldier in His Majesty's Army. I chose the latter out of some
dubious romantic motive which I little understand now, as I
reflect on those years. I wonder if I might not have had more
fun in the debtor's prisons, from the rumors I have heard about
those places.
I was 75 years old at this time. You may now be properly
appalled at His Majesty's justice and wonder how such an elderly
man could possibly be treated so cruelly as to be drafted into a
war. Before you begin to utter liberal nonsense against the
Royalty, heed my timely confession. Though I had lived 75 years,
I appeared in every respect like an 18 year old boy with jet
black hair, a clear, pale complexion, bright blue eyes, and a
smooth, slender body. You see, as an 18 year old I had had the
good fortune and wise judgement to strike a bargain with a
mysterious merchant who applied a magical oil on my body which
completely and permanently stopped the aging process. Hence I
remain for eternity in a hot, sexy, strong young body which will
never age. The merchant and I made a simple exchange--I gave him
my virginity, he gave me eternity.
Do you envy me? Obviously you should! I am sorry if I seem
inconsiderate. Do not brood too long on your brief lifespan. It
is the fate of most. Cheer up, poor fellow; the time will come,
or so I have been told by knowledgeable sources, when modern
technology will advance to such heights that people like yourself
will be able to manipulate the aging process through scientific
means. Your great-great-grandchildren are likely to be the first
recipients, an idea which may not cause you to jump and click
your heels for joy, but is nevertheless a cause for rejoicing
among the philosophically minded.
There were of course many experiences I had in the Colonies
as a British infantryman which are of historical interest, and I
may some day be persuaded to write a novel about them. But as
those intimately acquainted with me are aware, I choose to focus
on my sexual escapades, to the neglect, aye, even complete
oblivion of other memories. This is why I have been labeled, not
unfairly, an erotic writer. It is also the singular reason that
anyone bothers to read my scribblings! I recommend to any novice
writer that in his stories he indulge his libido to the utmost
because it adds a zesty spice to what may be a lackluster meal
cooked by an inexperienced chef. With just a modicum of skill
and the proper "flavoring" your customers will enjoy the feast
and say "Bon Appetit!" while you will gain needed experience in
story-crafting and indulge your ego (and alter-ego)...
Even at the age of 18, when I arrested the aging process, I
could have passed for a fourteen year old, being slight of build
and always very youthful in appearance. Perhaps this had
something to do with the fact that I became the fond favorite of
our commander, Captain Rogers, a most grasping man. Upon my
arriving for duty in the Colonies, he immediately assigned me to
clerical duties at his headquarters, a fine and proper Victorian
mansion located in Charleston, South Carolina.
One afternoon after tea, he turned and said to me, "Private
Larson, you have such dashing good looks. How did you ever come
to join the army? You should be back home sweeping out chimneys
or 'prenticing. A boy like yourself--"
"But Sir," I protested, "if I may?" He nodded. I continued,
"I am not a boy. I am a man, 18 years old, two years over the
minimum age to be a soldier."
"As you say, Private." He reached in his coat pocket for his
snuff box. He didn't find it. "Drat, I must have misplaced my
snuff. Go find it for me, Private."
I leapt up from my chair and searched the room for his snuff
box. As I moved around and searched the shelves and drawers, I
became aware that Captain Roger's eyes were rivetted upon my body
and staring in a way that I was long accustomed to, from both men
and women. I suspected that his losing the snuff box a cheap
ploy but I decided to play along and see where it led--hopefully
into a warm bed where I might discover if what they said about
the cock-size of British officers was true or not.
I found the snuff box and presented in to him. He made a
motion as if taking it, then let it fall to the ground. As I
bent down to pick it up, his arm moved around my backside and
grasped my right buttock! I gasped in surprise and turned my
head to look at him. I felt him give his hand a squeeze and
heard him say, "Well, just don't look at me. Pick up the snuff
box." I picked it up, stood up straight and handed it to him.
He took the snuff box with one hand while his other remained
stationed on my rear and began a massaging motion as I stood
there. I didn't mind it quite so much, but I wondered where this
would lead. He wasn't saying anything and didn't look me in the
face--instead his eyes were focused on lower parts of my anatomy.
My cock was not responding just yet, I imagine because of the
novelty of the situation.
We heard a knock at the door and his hand instantly
disappeared. He asked who it was and a soldier replied that he
had news from the Colonel. Something about a rebel ambush on one
of our supply trains, I don't know. You Americans simply don't
know how to conduct a civilized war. Captain Rogers looked me in
the eye and said, "Would you like to return to my room this
evening after supper, Larson?" "Yes Sir," I nodded, saluting
with a smile. I opened the door and left as the messenger
entered to speak with the Captain.
Realizing that the Captain would be preoccupied with the
Colonel's messenger for a good while, I decided to take a stroll
in town to occupy myself until suppertime, which was 2 hours
away. I must say I cut a fine figure in my smart red uniform as
I walked down the streets of Charleston. I caught the eyes of
several passing ladies glancing surreptitiously at me in
admiration and secret desire. My lust was building from this
welcome (though discrete) attention and in anticipation of this
evening's adventures with the Captain. On impulse I headed for
the docks, where I knew of a notorious street where whores could
be purchased any time of the day or night.
I came upon a group of five or six prostitutes ranging from
young to old. The one that caught my eye was a thin young
brunette, fragile-looking, very pale with long black hair and
beautiful brown eyes. I was enchanted by a faint look of
suffering on her face, a weak smile, a sad expression she tried
and failed to hide, which compelled me, which spoke to something
deep within my heart so that I wanted to reach out and hold her,
caress her face, whisper warm things in her ear. "This world," I
would say, "is not so bad. Look at me, feel me, and I will show
you what I mean..."
These thoughts of mine soon disappeared, or rather were
relegated to the sidelines, as she boldly approached me and
purred, "Why good afternoon, young Brit! Out on the town for a
bit of fun, are we? I bet little Sabrina can give you a good
time!" She groped for my crotch; I was amazed by her
forwardness, so unlike the properly prudish ladies of my
acquaintance, and at the time, rather refreshing... I smiled and
said, "Cute little Sabrina, if you will give me but an hour of
your time, I'll give you half a pound!" Quite satisfied with the
amount, she nodded and said, "Let's go, my love!"
She took me by the arm to place down a side street, opened
the door and we walked into a dark, musty room. She lit a candle
and I saw a bare room with unpainted brick walls. It was
unfurnished save for a mattress with several rips in it and the
whore's personal belongings scattered over the floor, a fragment
of a lady's mirror, a bottle of wine, a tinderbox and candles,
and numerous rags which could pass as clothes.
I sighed, "Poor Sabrina! Is this how you live, my dear? Ah
well, it is no concern of mine!" She said, "Silly Brit, do you
think I take johns to my home? I was robbed once and I never
shall suffer that again!" "Robbed?" I said, "You? But by whom?"
"By a damned rebel, of all things! Said he knew I was pleasing
the redcoats and he was levying a 'revolutionary tax' on my
business!" "Why, the scoundrel!" I said, with an involuntary
smirk. "A low-life dog, he was!" she declared.
I loved the look of anger in her eyes; it made them gleam, it
made her face red with spirit, and her little body shook all over
with the passionate anger. I wanted to take her now, naked, body
against body, feel myself inside of this woman. I took off my
coat and began unbuttoning my shirt. She saw that as a signal to
get undressed. I almost stopped her, thinking I might enjoy
taking her clothes off myself, slowly, piece by piece, watching
her reaction as I stripped down each garment. But I was too
hurried, too filled with lust to do so. I felt my cock growing
hard as I watched her slipping out of her clothes, easily,
quickly, like she did it several times a day, as no doubt she
did.
She was naked before I had gotten out of my pants and she
walked to me on bare feet, looking straight into my eyes, a
little tigress closing in on her prey. My cock was hard as she
knelt on the floor in front of me, took my pants in her hand and
pulled them down all the way to my ankles. My cock stood out,
engorged. I resolved to myself that I was hers for now, I would
let her do what she wished, and after that I would take her. Her
breasts, luscious melons, rested against my legs as she placed
her face next to my cock and looked up at me. It was a sight I
won't forget, Sabrina kneeling before me with those brown eyes,
that cute young face, her dark hair flowing down to the small of
her back, not quite reaching those sharp twin curves of her
buttocks with her delicate little feet resting underneath.
She looked at me, opened her mouth and left it gaping open,
waiting. I rested my hands on the back of her head, caressing
her silky black hair as I thrust my cock forward, sliding it
several times across her pretty face, missing her open mouth,
teasing her unintentionally until finally my cock passed through
her wet lips and she closed her lips over it. Her tongue
squirmed underneath my cock as she sucked me, bathing my cock,
making it wet and slick, a development I immediately noted with
satisfaction, as I intended to fuck her soon. I yearned to see
what bright colors I could put into her pretty pale white face,
to hear what this little nightingale's love-cries sounded like.
Her tongue rolled around my cock, tossing it around her
mouth, brushing it lightly against her teeth. I heard her
slurping, I heard the squishing noise as she took my cock deeper
into her mouth. I watched her head move as she took me deeper,
to her throat and then back almost to her lips. The damnable
expert, I thought to myself; she sought to make me cum quickly,
pocket my money and find another john. Ah well, I thought to
myself: que sera sera. This felt too good to stop it.
I stared at her head, her back, her buttocks--her sweet
perfect ivory buttocks which had not felt my hands on them,
kneading and rubbing their soft flesh. I thought of her sweet
pussy which had not taken my cock, which I had not even looked
at. I wanted to take her...but how would I last under this
delicious treatment?
She was picking up pace, rapidly taking my cock in and out of
her mouth, rubbing my cockhead quickly with her tongue. My
breath was quickening, my muscles were hard, my pulse rapid. She
knew. She took my cock out of her mouth. A silvery line of
semen stretching from her lips to my cock fell away as she licked
her lips. She held my cock in her hands, smiling, and said, "You
are too beautiful to take your seed in my mouth. I want to feel
you inside me, soldier." I caught my breath as my impending
orgasm faded away, though my desire was very inflamed now.
.....................................<to be continued>...........
Send me a message if you like this story, and I will continue it!
Tell me which parts you like!
drow elf
"I just thought of this on the sperm of the moment..."
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