Date: Fri, 7 Dec 2012 10:33:22 +0000
From: Ivor Sukwell <isukwell@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: A Boy part 5: Epilogue and Prologue

This is the last in this little series of `boy admiration' short stories.
Each is complete in itself, but each leads to the next. It is not knowingly
based on real persons nor on real events, although the laws of probability
would imply that something very similar has happened at some time and in
some place between characters accidentally similar to the ones portrayed
here.

The usual warnings and disclaimers naturally apply, and if you break any
laws by continuing to read, you do so at your own volition and your own
risk.


Epilogue and Prologue
By Ivor Sukwell


I woke him as I had woken him almost every morning for more than two
years. Barely awake myself, I slipped under the covers and took his
sleeping softness into my mouth. There is a very special pleasure in
feeling a boy's pride slowly fill, swell and lengthen in your mouth, a
pleasure that regular repetition does not diminish.

He was hard, as he often was, before he was awake. What dreams the warm
wetness of my mouth, the caressing of lips and tongue, created in his
sleeping mind I had no idea, but from the pulsing, throbbing, hardness, I
knew they pleased him.

Much more in my mouth now than there had been in those early times when he
lay back in the passenger seat of my Jensen, experiencing his first
suckings, taking his first steps on the path that had led him to sleeping
in my bed. His eighteen year old equipment was an inch longer than my own,
though, fortunately for my mouth, and, indeed, my hole, it was less thick.

"Gonna miss this," he murmured when consciousness came to him; "Love you
suckin' me awake."

"Love sucking you awake," I told him, my voice muffled by the covers and
the proximity of his foreskin to my lips, just far enough off him to allow
me words.

He first slept with me the night before his sixteenth birthday, and had
done so almost every night since. He did not live with me, he just slept
with me. In the mornings he would go off to school, home to his mother in
the afternoon and then round to me for the night. She, whatever she felt
about her son sleeping every night with a man, had, perhaps sensibly,
raised no objections to his choice. He was happy, he was content and he
could not get pregnant nor could he make his bed-partner pregnant and that,
at least, removed one source of possible concern.

If she knew her boy had lost his virginity before he was fourteen she never
said, either to him or to me, and she did now know me. A boy cannot be
intimate with the same man for more than five years without his mother
knowing, and what she must have suspected with suspicion bordering on
certainty for two years or more, became fact when he told her that, now he
was legal, he would, though not leaving home, be sleeping with his man from
then on.

We had stayed in bed and fucked all day when he received his GCSE results,
celebrating a success beyond anything he or his teachers would have
predicted in his early secondary school years. We did the same when he got
his `A' level scores, and with them the guarantee of a top university
place, though it was those same results and that university place that were
to conclude our relationship. He would be leaving soon, leaving to start a
new life in a new place.

"You gonna miss me?" he asked when I had eaten his spunk and returned up
the bed and shared a spunky kiss with him.

"Course I am. Been eating your spunk and fucking you for five years; of
course I'm gonna miss you."

"Will miss you as well," he agreed, "Love the way you see to my body."

"Lovely body to see to."

"Better for you when it was fourteen, though," he slipped me a wicked grin.

Although close – you can't bed a boy for five years without at least
liking him a bit as well as liking his cock a lot – neither of us had
ever pretended that our relationship was based on anything other than
sex. That's probably why it had lasted so long; as long as we satisfied
each other's needs we were both content. I asked nothing from him other
than his flesh and he wanted nothing from me other than me dealing with his
body. We were friends, of course, good friends and yes, I'd encouraged him
to work hard at school and keep out of the trouble he could so easily have
slipped into and he worked hard and stayed trouble free so nothing would
interfere with our friendship and, more importantly, our sex.

"What age you like boys best?" he asked, although he already knew the
answer.

"Fourteen, fifteen," I confirmed for him.

"Did me first when I was thirteen," he pointed out.

"Thirteen and horny and available; wasn't going to tell you to go away and
come back a year later, was I."

"Nah," he agreed with a smile. "Good job you didn't, weren't it."

"Certainly was. And what about you? What are you going to do all alone in a
strange town?"

He shrugged; "Whatever comes, I guess."

"Boy, girl or man?"

"Never had a boy or a girl, have I," he said, and, indeed, I knew he
hadn't; I had been his only source of sex. "Probably give both a try if I
can."

"You fancy trying with a girl?"

"Why not? I ain't gay am I, just always horny."

We had been fucking each other since before his fourteenth birthday and he
had never ever thought of himself as being the least bit gay. He was just
an over-sexed boy who had happened to find a man who kept him satisfied and
happy. A perfectly normal boy who just happened to, as yet, only have sex
with a man and loved every second of it because it was sex.

"No," I agreed, "You just need loads of sex."

"Right," he agreed, "An' you've made sure I got it," he grinned again.

"You're right," I told him, "Try girls and boys, you might even like them
both. People do."

"You don't."

He was right there; I was strictly a man for boys.

"True," I agreed, "Just boys; hot, horny, tasty, over-sexed boys."

"You ever fucked a girl?"

"No," I confessed. "Did have a girlfriend when I was your age, but she
never wanted to do anything interesting. Her younger brother did, though."

"You fucked your girfriend's brother?" he squeaked, incredulous.

"Why not? He wanted it and I wanted it, so we did it."

"Did she know?"

"Nah, only did him a couple of times, then I split with her, so I didn't
see him again."

"Wicked," he snorted and reached a hand down for my cock, which, not
surprisingly reacted as cocks do when a boy starts fondling them.

"You're not going to miss me, just my cock," I teased him as he played with
me.

"Didn't think I was gonna miss anything else, did you?"

"Course not. Why should you? And there's plenty more cocks out there to
fill the gap."

"Yeh," he agreed, "An' what you gonna do for cock when I'm gone?"

"Get used to wanking again, I suppose. Unless I come across a tasty teen on
a street corner, of course."

"An' you'll be lookin' I bet."

"Course I will. But I doubt I'll get lucky a second time."

"How you wanna cum?" he asked before the conversation turned a bit morbid,
"In me bum or me mouth?"

He did suck me from time to time, but not that often and only very
occasionally all the way. I never objected, he had always been free to do
what he wanted and not do what he was less keen on, but I've always been
wild about a boy sucking me.

"In your mouth," I said, hoping he would.

"Only if you promise to fuck me tonight, though."

"Promise," I agreed and he gave me a deep kiss. Well, he started the kiss,
but I joined in with enthusiasm, kissing was probably our most favourite
sport.

When he sucked me he pushed the bed covers out of the way so I could watch
his lips working my cock and he worked it wonderfully. Although he sucked
infrequently, he sucked well, using lips, cheeks and tongue, even the most
delicate of teeth scraping to get me really going. He'd never tried to deep
throat me, getting in no more than he could comfortably deal with, but what
he could get in he treated superbly.

"You're gonna make some boys really happy when you do that to them," I
smiled at him as he sucked me.

"Hope so," he came off me long enough to answer before returning to work
with his tongue inside my foreskin.

I reached down and ruffled his hair, stroked his shoulder as he was sucking
me, slow, long sucks, skin-nibbling with lip-covered teeth, pushing my
prick into his cheek, bobbing his head up and down, enjoying my cock as I
was enjoying his mouth. I do like being sucked, it's probably my favourite
way of spunking, every single bit of feeling concentrated in the cock, no
distractions, no need to hump up and down, just lie back and let it all
happen.

He took me all the way, swallowing my offering and giving me a grinning
smile when he'd finished.

"Liked that, didn't you," he smirked.

"You could tell?" I grinned back.

"Sorta got the idea," he smirked again, "But I reckon you used to enjoy it
even more when I was younger."

"Meaning what?" I asked.

"Meaning that it's probably a good thing I'm off to uni in a couple of
months. We're gettin' a bit old for each other now."

"You're not too old," I protested.

"Not too old, he agreed, "But you'd prefer something younger. And don't say
you wouldn't," he said before I could interrupt him, "Cos we both know you
would. An' I'm startin' to think I'm a bit old to be goin' with a man, an'
all."

I raised an eyebrow at him and he smiled again.

"Don't get the wrong idea. I've loved every single spunking you've given
me, an' every fuckin' we've done, an' I ain't gonna stop lovin' them in the
time we've got left before I leave. S'pose I loved it all cos I was a boy
an' it's the sorta stuff a boy should like doin'; an' no, to what you said
earlier, I won't be goin' with a man again after you."

"Going straight?" He wouldn't be the first boy I'd bedded who later went
that way.

"Fuck off," he snorted, "Might in the end, I s'pose, but not before I've
tried a boy or six."

"That's my boy," I grinned at him, "Good to know I've brought you up
properly."

"Dirty ol' cunt," he smiled cheerfully; "Certainly taught me what to do
with boys, anyway."

"You want to call it a day, then?" I enquired, suspecting that was what he
was leading up to. "Certainly no hard feelings or recriminations if you
do."

"Never thought there would be; but might be best if I went before you find
a tasty young teen to play with."

"Fat chance there is of that," I snorted, "Don't find them on street
corners, you know."

We both laughed at my reference to how we'd first met, and cuddled in for a
long kiss to show each other there were, indeed, no hard feelings about the
impending end of our relationship.

I had some fair idea of what he was thinking; I'd been there myself when I
too was eighteen and left behind the man who had taken such considerate
care of my sexual needs for more than three years. Going to university was
a milestone, and passing that milestone meant leaving boyhood
behind. Boyhood, and boyhood sexual pleasures. I had stopped wanting to be
a boy for a man's pleasure and become instead a man wanting boys for my
pleasure. Not simply for my pleasure, but for theirs as well; my man had
trained me well for my future – a man gets his greatest pleasure from a
boy when his main concern is to give pleasure to the boy was a lesson he
had so carefully taught me. He had me a lot, an awful lot, but he never
once took me. He led me, as I had led this boy, all the way to the end of
the primrose path, but he assumed nothing, indulged in nothing that was not
freely and willingly given. And when I no longer wanted to be a boy, he let
me go with cuddles and thanks, and I left him in the same way.

"No regrets?" I asked him.

"Not a single, fuckin' one," he smiled, "An' we're gonna have one massive
fuck tonight, an' we'll have a few beers before I go."

"You be sleeping at home from now on?" I asked, wanting to know how to plan
the future.

"Stay here till Wednesday, if that's okay with you," he said, his plans
worked out. "First day of term on Wednesday an' I thought I'd go in an' say
thanks to me old teachers. Sorta end of me as a schoolboy."

"And end of you as my boy. Nice and neat," I approved, "But, as you say, we
will go out before you leave and have a few too many beers."

Try as he might, he couldn't hide the relief at how easily this had gone,
and try as I might I couldn't resist giving him one more kiss.



I was surprised when, on Wednesday afternoon on his way home from his
school visit, he rung my doorbell. He'd always gone straight home from
school before and now he had no reason to call on me – tonight was to be
our first apart for a bit more than two years and was not the night planned
for our final drink-in. I was even more surprised that he was not alone. He
had with him a boy who'd stir any man's juices. He wasn't spectacularly
beautiful, he wasn't a little angel in schoolboy clothing, but he was
utterly blood-stirring.

I put him at around fourteen, though school uniforms can be so misleading,
both upwards and downwards, even more so when they are a little on the
shabby side as his was. His hair was pale straw, his eyes light blue and
his lips full and red. His features regular, nose the right size and his
skin perfect and unblemished. But he was not an angel, he was not
beautiful. He was a boy, though, a particularly boyish looking boy, a boy
who was brim-full of boyness.

Surprise must have been written all over my face because my boy, my ex-boy,
grinned widely and said,

"Can put him on a street corner if you prefer."

The inference was obvious, so obvious that my mouth flapped up and down but
no noises came out.

"You want to come in?" I eventually croaked.

"Well, that's a start at least," he grinned, enjoying my confusion.

"Who..............." I started to say when they were in the lounge and
seated.

"I told him about you an' he wanted to meet you," was all he said by way of
explanation. The fair-haired boy said nothing, just observed.

"You told him about me?" What, exactly, had he told?

"Got to warn you," he said, "He's gay as fuck an' everyone at school knows
he is, so there could be a few probs."

"What probs?" I really was not following this.

"If you two hit it off, of course," he sighed, "Peeps know he's seein' you,
they'll guess you're fuckin' him."

"Let me get this straight," I said, attempting to be firm; "You have been
into school, collected a boy who you believe is gay, and have brought him
here to see if we fancy each other?"

"Bout right," he said cheerfully.

"I am gay," the fair-haired boy spoke at last, and spoke in a voice that
was a delightful only-just-broken, young teenage voice.

"He's gay, you know he's gay and you're going to tell me that you have
never actually found that out for yourself?" I was struggling to work this
all out. If he had been with this so very boyish boy it would be easier to
follow, but, unless it had been something that had happened in the last
couple of days, he had no more knowledge of the boy's intimate parts than I
had, and I had never seen him before. That, if he had known this boy, a boy
who had "Bed Me" written over every inch of him, was, for me, was something
very difficult to believe.

"True," he shrugged. "Couldn't while I was at school though, could I? I was
seen with him an'......well, you can guess."

I could guess. Even rampant teenage cock-urge can wilt when faced with
outraged homophobic peer pressure.

"So you just picked him up today for the first time and brought him here?"

"Something like that."

"He did ask me what I thought about men who like boys," the fair-haired one
piped in, "And I said if he knew one I'd like to meet him." He flashed a
cock-swelling smile at me.

"I'll be gettin' on home, then," my ex-boy grinned, "Leave you two to get
to know each other."

"I'll have to go as well," fair-hair said in his lovely boy-voice, "My
brother will be home by now and I have to look after him till Mum gets
back."

"How old's brother?" I asked, not out of sexual interest, but simply for
something normal to say in what, I felt, were far from normal
circumstances.

"Eleven," fair-hair piped. "I could bring him round here with me if you
want to see more of me this afternoon."

I was sure he didn't mean the same by `see more of me' as I would have
liked him to mean, but I changed my mind about that when he cheerfully
announced that, for eleven, his brother had a really big cock.

"P'raps I should come back in a bit," my ex grinned, naughty thoughts
clearly obvious in his mind.

"Why not?" fair-hair said, apparent innocence all over him.

All ideas of innocence were well and truly gone later that afternoon. My
ex, although I still liked him and he me, I thought of him now as my ex,
was on one sofa, a slender, petite eleven year old beside him, an eleven
year old who had, half-an-hour before, discovered my ex's penchant for not
using underwear; while I was on the other sofa, my tongue searching for
fair-hair's tonsils as he did his very best to prove his assertion that he
was gay.

"Pity we didn't meet before," he chirruped when I had got his
anxious-to-be-undone jeans undone and his four or so slender, uncut inches
in my hand, "We got to move in a week."

"Move?" I squeaked. I did not want him moving away. Not now!

"Got to. Don't know where we're going," he said, his high, boy-voice matter
of fact. "Mum can't pay the rent and we're getting kicked out. Again."

"Probly gotta go in care," his younger brother said, equally matter of
fact, taking his mouth from seven inches of eighteen year old cock just
long enough to say it.

"Bet you'd like to take them into care, wouldn't you," my ex grinned
lasciviously at me, though he had a little difficulty in getting the words
out as a result of the mouth that was back round his cock.

"Ooohhhh, that would be nice," fair-hair piped, and then added, even more
high pitched, "And so is that!" as I gave his foreskin a finger treat.

"You could do it, you know," my ex said, suddenly serious despite still
being sucked.

"Do what?"

"You got loads of room; you could take them in as lodgers."

"Oh yeh," I said sarcastically, "Two sex mad young kids and their mother
living with a guy who likes boys in his bed. How long you think it would be
before she found out?"

"She wouldn't mind," eleven stopped sucking long enough to announce, "She
knows we fuck anyway."

"She what? You what?" Incredulity hit a new high. What had I been got into?

"She caught us," fair-hair explained; "You wanna get my jeans off so you
can get at me properly? We share a bed and she caught us doing it."

I did want to get his jeans off, and not just his jeans either, and he
obligingly helped me remove them so I could appreciate him a bit more
properly. And very nice legs he had, long, slender and utterly smooth. He
didn't have much in the way of pubes either, just a few dark gold ones
around the edges. He took his own shirt off while I was sucking him,
confirming my growing certainty that I wanted to deal with him properly and
frequently and then, of course, my cock started doing the thinking.

"She might not be so understanding about things if she knew what her boys
are doing now," I said, trying to look at the downside, "And certainly not
if you were all living here." I said that between licking all around
fair-hair's tight balls and treating my mouth to a good taste of his legs.

"Don't think she'd mind if we had somewhere to live," he said as I licked
his thighs, "Don't fancy eating my hole, do you?"

I did fancy, of course.

"Ohhh, that is nice. You do that really well," he complimented me as I
munched away.

"Likes having his bum licked out," his brother announced, somewhat
unnecessarily as I'd already discovered that for myself, "Likes me doing it
before we fuck."

I wondered who fucked who, but couldn't ask because my mouth and tongue
were busy devouring boy hole, and eating out a boy is a lot more fun than
talking. Having his bum munched didn't stop him talking, though.

"We can ask Mum when we get home," he said to his brother without looking
in his direction, his face was buried in sofa cushions while I ate him,
"And don't expect to fuck me now. I don't fuck on a first meeting," he told
me, just in case I was getting ideas.

"He don't fuck first time so he makes sure there's a second," his brother
giggled between slurps on cock. "We tell Mum that we're the rent, she's
bound to be alright with it."

"Yeh," fair-hair giggled, "We can be real rent boys."

"And we won't have to go into care," the eleven chimed cheerfully, "Be
ace."

"You want to suck me off now?" fair-hair asked, taking his face out of the
cushions, "We got to be going soon and I do want to spunk before we go."

This, my cock informed me, was a boy I would be very happy to take instead
of rent, and that was even without taking his brother into account.

It was all a fantasy though, wasn't it? The boys were real enough, and
fair-hair's sperm was absolutely delicious, but the bit about their mother
knowing and not caring had to be made up. And as for them all moving in and
me having the boys to play with........well, nice thought, but nothing like
reality.

"We'll come round after school tomorrow and let you know what Mum says,"
fair-hair told me as he returned clothes to his sucked-off body, "Sure
she'll be alright with it. And it'll be a second meeting as well." He
flashed me another smile, a smile I knew I wanted to have flashed at me
again and again.

I had little doubt what he meant by that, and no doubt at all when his
brother said to my ex,

"You can fuck me as well if you're here."

"He will be," I told them, "I think you can bet on that."

"Cool," the little lad cooed, "You're gonna love having us live with you."

I don't know if I would........I did know my cock would certainly love it!

"Did you set that up?" I asked when the two brothers had gone.

"Did set up the older one for you," he confessed, "Couldn't bear the idea
of you not having something to play with; not after all the fun you've
given me since I was thirteen. Just didn't seem fair on you."

I opened my arms for him, inviting a cuddle, a far easier way of saying
`thank-you' than using words.

"Had no idea he had a brother, though, an' no idea they was about to be
homeless."

"Just chance," I whispered in his close-to-me ear, "Bit like meeting
someone on a street corner."

"Bit like that," he agreed with an ear nibble of his own. "Think of me now
an' again when you're fuckin' them."

"I will. And you think of me when you're balls deep in your own tasty
teen."

"Bank on it," he whispered and we had a long, lingering kiss. Our last,
though we still had an evening to come when we would smile happily at each
other as the pints went down.



ivorsukwell@hotmail.co.uk