Within 48 hours of bringing home the young boy he’d found on the subway, Angus had fucked him over nearly every surface in his small apartment. He’d fucked him over the arm of the couch where the boy would be sleeping. He’d fucked him on the small living-room coffee table. He’d fucked him over the perfectly crotch-height bar stools at the kitchen breakfast bar. He’d fucked him in the bathtub, surrounded by water and suds. He’d fucked him multiple times on and across the bed, standing at the edge, kneeling in the center, lying spooned up behind the boy. He’d even fucked him on the floor of the tiny kitchen. He’d honestly surprised himself with how many times he’d managed to get it up over such a short period; he felt like a young man again. And at least here he had access to proper lube.
Somewhere in midst of these proceedings, Angus remembered himself well enough to ask the boy’s name. “I’m Angus,” he offered politely. “You can call me...” Papa? Probably couldn’t get away with that. He was certainly old enough to be the boy’s grandfather, even if the boy were willing to call him father. It might be confusing in public. “...Uncle,” he decided finally. “Uncle Angus. What’s your name?”
But the boy was quiet, scared and sullen, and would not reply. “If you don’t tell me your name, I’ll just have to make one up for you,” Angus teased. But still the boy would not reply. He was nude from the waist down and cum dribbled down one leg from Angus’s latest leavings.
“Fine then,” said Angus. “How about... Angel? Since you’re my little angel, hm?”
The boy said nothing, his hands balled tightly into little fists that clutched at the hem of his shirt. Angus sighed, but didn’t press him.
By the end of the second day, Angus realized he would need some supplies if he was going to keep the boy around. The boy could sleep on the couch for now—it was certainly large enough and soft enough, although he’d have to clean the cum stains off of it first—but they would definitely need some other essentials. At the very least the child would need clothes: after two days of marathon sex, every last stitch the boy had been wearing was liberally stained with cum.
While Angus washed the boy’s only outfit in the closet-sized laundry room of his apartment (fucking the boy once more against the vibrating machine, his tiny nude form irresistable), Angus planned his next move. He could just go out and get the supplies they needed, eyeballing the boy’s clothing size and making his best guess. But he couldn’t help feeling nervous about leaving the boy alone. What if he hurt himself, or tried to escape, or called the police? Even beyond that, the thought of being away from the boy for more than a moment made his heart clench. No, the best solution was to bring the child shopping with him.
And so, once the boy’s clothes were dry, Angus brought him out to the local department store.
“We’re going to get you some more clothes,” he told the boy. “Go ahead and pick whatever you like and we’ll go try them on.”
The boy was still frightened, and took a bit of further cajoling, but eventually Angus was able to get him to select a variety of shorts, pants, and t-shirts. He completely ignored the need for underwear, so Angus took the liberty of picking out some that he thought the boy would look good in. He also found a few with lacy edges meant for young girls, and hid them surreptitiously in the pile of clothes he was carrying.
When his arms were well-laden, Angus led the boy to the back of the store. In a small back hallway were the changing rooms. A single bored attendant flipped through a magazine at the desk by the hall’s entrance, barely looking up when Angus led the boy past and vaguely indicated the bundle of clothing he carried.
Angus took the boy to the changing room farthest back, at the end of the hallway. It was surprisingly spacious, with full mirrors along two of the walls. The lock made a little metallic snick as Angus closed it behind them. He laid their prospective purchases in a pile on one of the room’s benches and handed the first one to the boy. “Here,” he said. “Get changed.”
And so the boy began to try on the clothes. Angus got harder and harder as he watched the child repeatedly strip off his clothing and shimmy into something new. Every article removed was like a new delight for Angus, a show just for him. By the end of it he was practically drooling.
When it came time for the boy to try on the girly underwear that Angus had smuggled in, the old man found he could no longer take it. Seeing the child standing in the center of the room in lacy little pink panties with a tiny red bow on the front, reflected from multiple angles in the two enormous mirrors, was too much for him.
Angus unzipped his own fly and fell to his knees behind the boy. As soon as his cock was exposed to the open air, he began to rub it up against the soft, smooth skin of the boy’s lower back, occasionally dropping down to slide over the silky fabric canyon of the boy’s clothed rear. The texture was heavenly as he thrust up and down along the boy’s spinal column. Suddenly Angus remembered why he had loved the subway so much: there was something about the thrill of being in public, knowing what he was getting away with, that made his heart pound practically out of his chest. His cock somehow grew even harder at the thought. He resolved to bring the boy out for covert public fucking more often.
Angus wanted desperately to enter the boy’s ass once more, but he was wary of doing so here. He didn’t have any lube, and more importantly he had nothing with which to clean up the mess afterwards. Cum stains on any article of clothing were likely to be noticed by the checkout clerk. Angus fantasized about coming on the cloth of the boy’s new panties, soaking them again and again until they were sopping wet, and then forcing him to wear them out underneath his usual clothes. But if he got caught for shoplifting, someone might ask unfortunate questions about his relationship to the boy, nevermind the incriminating nature of the stains.
These fantasies made Angus thrust harder, and he grabbed the boy around the stomach to pull him back more firmly against the desperate frottage. His hair? Would anyone notice if the boy’s hair was sticky with cum? Probably, since he’d come in with it clean. No, that wouldn’t do either.
Angus was getting close now. He needed to stop and put himself away. Any further and there would be no turning back. But the boy was so soft, and so warm, and his skin so very delightful against Angus’s cock. Angus couldn’t help himself. His thrusts got faster and faster until he was smearing his precum all over the boy’s back, dick skating helplessly over his skin like it was searching for something. He couldn’t stop now. He couldn’t, he was so close, he was-
Desperately, Angus wrenched the boy around and grabbed his head in both hands, slamming his mouth down onto Angus’s cock. He barely had time to bury his phallus deep in the boy’s throat before he was coming, long and hard, his semen exploding into the boy.
The boy choked, but Angus wouldn’t release him. He kept his cock buried in the boy’s throat as long as he could, glancing around to look at the reflections in the changing room mirrors. Every angle showed the boy’s lips reddened and stretched around the base of his member, his eyes bulging with surprise and pricked in the corner with tears. Angus wished he had a free hand to take a picture with his phone. He’d have to take some like this when they got home.
When Angus’s long orgasm eventually slowed to the last few spurts, he let his softening cock finally slip out from between those red lips, leaving the boy coughing hard and gasping for breath. Angus sighed in relief and satisfaction. He hadn’t tried oral with the boy yet, too uncertain of what he might try to do once Angus’s cock was in his mouth. But this had been sudden enough that the boy had had no time to react, and Angus’s release had been perfect.
Angus patted the child on the head and zipped himself back up. “Alright Angel,” he said cheerfully. “Just a few more things to try on, and then we’ll go and get some groceries and head home. Maybe we’ll even stop for ice cream on the way back, if you’re good!”
Maybe. Maybe not: Angus was eager to get the boy back to the confines of his apartment. He’d found several new fantasies this afternoon that he was already desperate to try out.