Any characters portrayed in this story are fictional and not representative of anyone living or dead.
This is a story about the love between a twelve-year-old boy and a twenty-seven-year-old man and it contains graphic details of sexual contact between them. If you are under age and if this is illegal where you live or where you're accessing this site, then I suggest you leave immediately. For those who wish to stay, then this story is a long one of sixteen parts and an epilogue, which deals with a relationship rather than a brief and sexually stimulating read, although there are parts when the sexuality of the liaison is paramount to the story and I've done my best to leave nothing out.
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Boys can be lovers, too.
Dean lived just south of Hereford at a place called Lower Bullingham. I'd questioned him about my new home, but he'd not been too descriptive in his comments. `It's an old place by the river. Wait and see. I think you'll like it unless you like the Chelsea scene', he said. When he drove the Capri up the gravel drive, I was gobsmacked. It wasn't old. It was a detached house, built about the same time as my parent's home in Droitwich; probably about forty years old, with mature hedges and shrubs and a garage and a small speedboat parked at the side of it. This was definitely not what I expected, especially because Dean was no millionaire. Immediately, I wondered how he'd been able to afford it.
He looked at me, and grinned. "Do you like it?"
I grinned back. "I expected my Prince Charming to have a castle. Is it really yours?"
"No. It belongs to the bank, and I have to work damned hard to keep up the payments, and I'll have to continue working damned hard for the next twenty three years before it's mine. Shall we go in? I'll show you the bedroom first. I think I need to. You haven't had your hand off my leg for the last twenty miles. Anybody would think you're sex starved."
I chuckled. "I am. It's because I've fallen in love with an old man instead of a Prince Charming."
Dean scuffed me on the side of the head, and giggled at my quip.
We'd parted company with mum and dad at a service station on the M5. It had been a pragmatic parting: no tears, just `See you next weekend; we'll ring you when we get home; if you need anything, then ring us; behave yourselves, both of you.' And then we drove off. I knew mum would have cried once we'd gone, but it wasn't the end of the world. We'd made plans to go and stay at Droitwich the following weekend. That would soon come around. Many of the plans for my stay with Dean had been sorted over meals in The White Lion, and other places, and because I wasn't due to start at my new college until September, there was plenty of time to arrange that. It was still only the end of July.
Dean unlocked the front door of our home, picked me up, and carried me over the doorstep. Once inside, he kicked the door closed, and then kissed me. "Coffee or sex?"
I hugged his head, and kissed him back. "Sex."
He grinned. "Coffee it is then. I need to use the bathroom. The kitchen is through there. Go and make us some. You know how I like mine; sweet with cream, just like you." He dropped me down.
I went through to the kitchen/diner, emptied the water out of the chrome kettle, refilled it, and switched it on, and then I wandered into the large living room that overlooked lawns and the drive.
At the rear end of the room was Dean's work area, which was partitioned off by a teak, shelved, dividing unit. That was interesting, because many of the things on it had, obviously, been brought back from Cornwall. There were slate murals and flotsam and jetsam he'd probably picked up from our cove after a storm. I found that quite moving, and I felt quite privileged that he'd now brought another piece of flotsam back: Me. The floor was covered in a thick, dark-brown, shagpile carpet, that covered the living room and continued into the office. In the office were some technical drawings of jobs he was doing, or whatever. Everything was neat and tidy, as was his handwriting on the notes he'd added. I went back into the living room. The teak surround glass coffee table was nice, but the nicest thing of all was the long, curved, cream coloured, soft leather sofa units that stretched from the entrance door, continued under the window that overlooked the frontage, and stopped at the back wall. In the middle of that back wall was a nice, wood burning fireplace, and on the floor in front of it was a large sheepskin rug. I thought that was sexy, and I made my mind up to make use of it. The cream walls and white ceiling finished off the room perfectly. I was impressed. Everything was modern...but cosy. A door closed and I heard Dean coming, and I lay flat on the sofa and pushed my shorts and underpants down to my knees.
Dean walked in, looked at me, and laughed. "Make yourself at home. Where's the coffee?"
I grinned at him as I was fondling a now erect Willie. "Coffee can wait. Come here."
I watched him observing his boy. I loved it when he did this. I loved it more when he removed all my clothes to leave me naked, and when his hands began to roam over the body he worshipped. Gentle fingers caressed every part of me. He leaned over and kissed me. I returned the kiss, and our tongues circled, and then I sucked his tongue in and out. This was one of our special signals...for what I desired most. He got the message, went to the kitchen, and came back with a towel and a tin of Vaseline. I was manoeuvred into position...butt on the edge of the sofa and the towel underneath me. He raised my legs and passed them to me, and I hugged them to my shoulders as he went to his knees. I grinned at him. "This sofa is perfect...just the right height."
He smiled back at me. "I bought it with you in mind."
"How could you? You hadn't met me. Maybe Harry was your fantasy sofa fuck?"
Dean giggled. "Maybe he was, but you'll do." He looked me in the eyes. "Which do you want first, Tongue or William?"
I waggled my tongue at him. He stuck two fingers up at me, dipped them in the Vaseline, and then slipped them deep inside Snug. They massaged my magic spot, and I moaned. I'd been desperate for this since we turned off the motorway, and the thought of it was the reason why I hadn't been able to keep my hands off his leg. I closed my eyes and gave myself up to the gentle massage that made my senses reel. Then he stopped. I opened my eyes and saw him taking down his shorts. My jaw quivered when I saw William at his very best, and I hugged my legs harder as I watched Dean put his raging sex into me and felt it sliding deep into my tummy. There was no other feeling like it on earth. We'd done it often enough now for my body to adapt, and I knew the exact moment when I should relax and push out to allow him to go beyond my love spot and into my belly. Even my teeth were sensitive to the sensation. The position was more than perfect for Dean, because he leaned over, and I felt his lips and tongue and teeth on my neck.
Part of my sexual satisfaction with Dean was the thought of his sperm shooting deep inside me. He wasn't prolific in the act, but I never imagined anyone could produce so much each time we made love. But he was at the height of his manhood. There was no way on earth I could resist what he was doing, and in a very short time, I was squealing on the end of him as I climaxed, and I felt him filling me with his love juices as he bit deep into my neck. When the magic had passed, I looked at Dean, and he was serious.
"Sorry, sweetheart. I think I bit your neck."
"I think you did. What was that about?"
"Dunno. You drive me crazy. I've wanted to do that for ages, but didn't dare, because you would have been walking about in Cornwall with bites all over you if I had. At least now we're home, we can hide it. Does it hurt?"
I rubbed my neck. "A bit. But I liked it." William withdrew, and my feet went back onto the carpet. I pointed to the globules of semen on my belly. "You'd better lick your Royal Jelly off."
Dean smiled, and licked every drop off me. Then he nibbled at my belly. That was nice. I grabbed his head, and pressed him onto me. He took a big mouthful, and sucked, and nibbled away at me, and then I pushed him to `the valley of love', as he called it; the depression of my body that ran from my hips to my perineum, and he bit his way along its length, and then did the same to the other side. Willie, loving what he was doing, came back to attention, so I led Dean's eager mouth to him, and I watched him take me, and once he was past my bulbous, purple knob, he nibbled his way down my shaft, and then back up again, and kept doing it until I grabbed his hair and forced myself deep inside him, and then I bucked and fucked into him. He must have sensed it was his teeth scraping along the length of my shaft that was turning me on, so he grabbed the cheeks of my butt and gripped them so tight they were hurting, and I exploded again.
Coffee, kisses, and hugs aplenty; plus a meal of spaghetti Bolognese followed our special loving. Dean took me on a tour of the house, and then the gardens at the rear, that led down to the River Wye. Now I knew what the boat was for. Beneath willow trees with branches that swept the surface, and a small concrete jetty that disappeared into the almost clear water, the river flowed slowly and tranquilly towards the west. Not in my wildest dreams could I have imagined when mum and dad and I set off for Cornwall, that two weeks later, I would be living with the most beautiful man I'd ever seen, and in such a superb home. When darkness had fallen, as I lay on the sofa with my head in his lap and his hands caressing my face, and as I looked up into the eyes of my lover, I realized that Matthew Lloyd was a very lucky boy indeed.
Matthew was like a proper twelve-year-old after we made love and I'd shown him around the place. He delved and dived into everything that had been my private domain before I met him. I didn't mind; I had no secrets to hide from him, and what I had before, was now also his for as long as we were together. We'd eaten, and were on the sofa. Matthew's head was in my lap. He looked up at me.
"Are you happy?" he asked.
I looked down into the wonderful brown eyes of my boy; the eyes that weaved enchanting spells with my soul and made me catch my breath each time they locked with my own, just as they had done since the moment we met. "Yes. I'm happier now than I've ever been in my life. And you? Are you happy?"
Matthew smiled up at me. "Yes. Do you sleep in the nude?"
I laughed. "What evil thoughts are going through your mind now? As a matter of fact, I do. Why do you ask?"
He gave me a silly, mischievous grin. "I was just picturing you in bed when we wake in the morning. You know I'm going to rape you tomorrow morning, don't you?"
"Matthew Lloyd, you're a sex mad fiend."
"It's the reason why you love me, isn't it?"
I caressed his cheek and lips. "No. I love you because you're you. There's just something special about you."
Matthew's teeth locked on my finger, and he spoke through his teeth. "Like Harry?"
I thought for a while before answering him. "Yes. Like Harry. But Harry and I were not destined to be anything other than ships passing in the night. Like countless thousands of others in the past, you and I were destined to be lovers. Did you know that in the past, many great men have felt as I do towards you?"
Matthew let go my finger, and gave me a smug grin. "Yes. Plato loved boys. So did Socrates. You're in good company, Mr Electrician."
I shook my head in disbelief that my twelve-year-old boy could know so much about the love between men and boys. "How did you find that out?"
He became serious. "I spent a lot of time researching that shit when I should have been studying properly. Now I've discovered who and what I am, and now I've got you, I can get on with my life. I love you, Dean."
The eyes that were looking into mine were slightly misty. I knew exactly how he was feeling. I loved him, too. I smiled, pulled him from the sofa and led him upstairs. Our new life together was going to be interesting.
Dean was still in the shower when I went back into the bedroom and dried myself. `Our' bedroom was at the rear of the house, with views of the river. I stood in front of the window and looked at the half moon; the same half moon we had sat under on the headland at Cornwall last night. It was here, now, above us, and below the weeping willows, where the branches brushed the water, the small, dancing eddies they created, reflected `our' silver moon. And then I felt it...jealousy. I was an intruder in Dean's world, the place where he had fallen in love with another small boy: Harry, who had bugged me since the day Dean had mentioned him. And, very probably, he was not far from where I was now, and he would be able to see `our' moon. Fuck you, Harry. This moon belongs to Dean and me. You wasted your fucking chance, you wanker.
I went to the wardrobe where I'd put my clothes, and took out the grey flannel trousers and white shirt that Mum had ironed after we'd exchanged rings at The White Lion. Clean underpants, trousers, white shirt, and socks, and then I fished around for a nice tie. Dean had one; a plain blue one. That would do. And then I brushed my hair, trying different styles, until I found one I thought would do the trick. And then I lay on the bed on my back with my arms folded behind my head, and waited. I heard the shower stop, and it was quiet.
Dean came out of the bathroom, naked, and stopped in his tracks when he saw me. He looked puzzled.
I gave him a shy, schoolboy, sexy look, the sort of look I reckon Harry would have given him after Dean had lured him to his bedroom. "Do you like me, Dean?"
Dean said nothing as his eyes followed the contours of my body from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, and then he came to the bed and sat on it, and stroked my hair and face, and toyed with the tie. He got off the bed, went to the dressing table and brushed his long, blond hair, until it shone like silk, and when he got up and turned to me, his manhood was so hard that his foreskin peeled back by itself. He came and sat on the bed again, and then he lay down on his side, facing me. We stared into each other's eyes for a long time, and then he made his move. Very slowly, his hand began to caress my body. He got to the top of my trousers, and I stopped him.
I gave him a coy look. "I've never done this before. I'm not sure I should. I'm only twelve."
I saw the recognition in Dean's eyes that he knew I was playing a game.
He came over me and looked down into my face. "It's ok. I won't hurt you. Just relax. It's nice. Trust me. Just let me hold it."
He pushed his hand down. I tried to stop him, but he was stronger than me, and soon he was stroking erect Willie through my trousers.
I pretended to be frightened. "I think I'd better go now. I told mum I would be home for dinner."
Dean's fingers were now manipulating my foreskin on and off my knob. "It's ok. It won't take long, and then you can go. I promise."
The hand slipped my zip down and I felt him getting Willie out, and when he was out, Dean smiled at me and began to slowly masturbate me. I tried to stop him, but he pushed my hand away, and continued doing it. His face came down to mine, and our lips met. I kept mine tightly closed as his tongue tried to get into my mouth. Dean was patient, and kept trying. Very slowly, I relaxed my lips, and his tongue found my clenched teeth. I wouldn't let him in. That is, until his hand on Eccles was too much for me, and as I felt the climax approaching, I began to gasp, and as my mouth opened, Dean's tongue forced itself into me and he clamped his mouth on mine. My stifled squeals and thrusting body told him he'd achieved the objective, and when I sank back onto the bed, he pulled his face away from me and looked into my eyes.
"There, that was nice, wasn't it? Can we do it again sometime?"
I didn't answer him. Instead, I tucked Willie into my trousers and zipped myself up, and then I scrambled over him and ran to the bathroom. I stripped and folded the clothes, and combed my hair to my own style. Naked, I walked back into the bedroom.
Now, Dean was lying back on the bed with his hands folded behind his head. There was a smirk on his face as I went to him. Willie was erect again.
I straddled his chest and pushed Willie against his lips. "Open!"
Dean kept his lips clamped together, and shook his head. He spoke through his teeth. "No chance. Now it's my turn. Turn around. I want to get at Snug. And if you even dare touch William, I'll throw you out of bed and you can sleep in the spare room."
Eagerly, I reversed my position and stared down at William, who was now throbbing with excitement. I, desperately, wanted to have him in my mouth and suck him until he exploded into my throat, but I didn't dare. Dean's command had been too fierce not to obey it.
Dean's hands gripped my hips and he pulled me back onto his face, and then he parted my bum cheeks and began to lick at me. His fabulous tongue played with me, and then he pulled me wide and inserted it, and began to tongue fuck me. The feeling was fantastic, and was driving me to a sexual frenzy, but still I didn't dare touch William. So I did the next best thing to try and make contact; I created as much saliva as I could, and allowed it to drip from my open mouth onto the swollen knob, and my spittle ran in streams down the length of him.
Dean's mouth left me. I was disappointed, and wondered what would happen next. I soon found out when I felt him applying Vaseline to Snug, and then felt two fingers enter me and begin searching for my magic spot. He knew he'd found it when I let out an involuntary yelp, and he began to play with it.
In the two weeks we'd been together, Dean had become an expert `in there'. He knew every muscle and the most sensitive parts of me, and now he began to tease me. Unfortunately, for Dean, I was in too high a state of arousal for his simple teasing not to bring me to my first climax within thirty seconds of him being inside me, and my residual semen spurted onto the hairs on his chest. But Dean didn't stop. He continued milking my prostate.
I had two types of climaxes. One was the result of penis stimulation, and the other was generated from my prostate. By now, I knew which one I preferred: the latter. It did things to my nervous system that penis stimulation couldn't achieve; a whole body climax, rather than one emanating from my penis head. And now, especially because of the power of Dean's command, I was helpless, and wave after wave of sensual multi-climaxes overwhelmed me until I was a quivering tool to be used as Dean wanted. I lost count of the number of times I peaked, and I was beginning to feel faint when Dean, finally, pushed my head down onto the waiting William, and his sperm spurted deep into my throat.
I lay snuggled in Dean's arms. He'd said nothing since he commanded me not to touch William. Now, he spoke.
"Who was the boy?"
I'd been planning for this question, and I told him an outright lie."The blond haired boy with the blue eyes and the green shorts and the long, warm legs. The boy with no shirt on. The boy you said you would, and I would, too."
Dean giggled. "David?"
I stroked Dean's face, and nodded. "Well, was he any good?"
Dean's arms came around me and hugged me tight. "Don't bother with the ménage a trois. He isn't a patch on the boy with the sexy brown eyes, and the soft, curvy bum that drives me insane...the boy I love more than anything in the world, and who nobody can hold a candle to. Did you enjoy the punishment I gave you for playing your silly games?"
I pushed my face up to Dean's, and looked into his beautiful eyes. "Yes. And the medicine I got at the end was lovely, too. Shall we go to sleep now?"
Dean kissed me. "I think we'd better, before any other boys sneak into our room."
I began to drift off to sleep. Suddenly, my heart missed a beat. I'd made an error. What was it I'd said when I began the game? "I've never done this before. I'm not sure I should. I'm only twelve." David was fourteen, and not twelve. I hoped Dean hadn't noticed the slip.
To be continued...