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 many 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.


Part fourteen.


Dean Says:


When Matthew brought Harry back into our relationship, I was seething with anger. Whatever was he thinking to do that? And then I looked deep into the eyes of the beautiful boy who lay by my side and, for the first time, I fully understood what he was, and I felt humbled to be in his presence. Especially, I felt humbled that this brilliant, intellectual young man had chosen me as his lover. He could see inside my brain. Of course he was right. I still loved Harry. I always had since the moment I met him, and he would always have a special place in my heart, and no amount of sidestepping the issue could fool Matthew. The paradox was that I loved Matthew too. He'd presented me with a hypothetical situation earlier, and I hadn't lied. But I'd not been liberal with the truth either. I hadn't told him of the countless nights that my sexual fantasies, before I met Matthew, were of me making love to Harry, and even while Matthew and I had been together, there had been the odd occasion when I reached the peak of my climax and had imagined Harry was the boy beneath me. Before we broke up, when Matthew gave me the photo of Harry, and I saw again the face of the boy who had dominated my life for the last seven years, I broke down in abject sorrow. Time had faded the memory of the beautiful boy I'd fallen in love with, but the photo brought the memories back. He really was everything I remembered him for. But who did I love the most: Harry or Matthew? I looked at the super boy by my side, and into his fabulous eyes that played games with my soul; at the soft contours of his face, and his sexy, pouting lips; at the one ear which was slightly larger than the other; at the little dimple just below the left side of his mouth; at the small gap between his two front teeth, and I knew the answer, and my face softened.


"Ok, but can you have a word with Harry?"


Matthew's eyes were sparkling. "What should I tell him?"


"Tell him I still love him, but I love Matthew Lloyd much more, and he'll always be a poor second best to you. Tell him that's the deal or I won't make love to him."


I saw an immense relief in Matthew's face, and he smiled. "Thank you Dean. I'll tell him, and this time I know I'll be telling him the truth."


I tickled the side of Matthew's face. "How does Harry like his sex?"


Matthew giggled, and gave me the evil eye. "Up the bum."


I stifled a laugh. "Well, tell Harry to turn over. We'll introduce him to William, shall we?"


`Harry' turned over. I got off the bed and rooted out the Vaseline, pulled down his khaki shorts and underpants, and greased his Snug. Then I lay behind him and inserted William slowly until he reached the magic spot. `Harry' squirmed with pleasure. I reached over, took hold of his erect penis and slowly rolled his foreskin on and off the swollen boy member. `Harry' and I created a rhythm, and we both climaxed together. I pulled out and rolled `Harry' onto his back.


I looked into Matthew's eyes. "Tell Harry he's pretty good, but he shouldn't make such a row when he comes. He reminds me of someone else I know. I wonder what his love juices taste like?"


Matthew looked at me, and grinned. "Taste it and see."


I brought the semen to my lips, and licked it off. "Hmmm. Not bad. It's strange though."


Matthew looked puzzled. "What's strange?"


"It tastes like mulligatawny soup."


Matthew burst into uncontrollable laughter, and I joined him. It was quite a while before we were remotely serious again, and then Matthew put on a hurt face.


"I'm jealous. You've done Harry, but you haven't done me."


I winked. "Harry's just a beginner. Shall we show him how it's really done?"


Matthew grinned, and pulled his legs back to his shoulders. I mounted him, and William disappeared completely into snug. When he was in, I looked at my boy. "This is just us, ok?"


Matthew nodded. "Just us. Tell me you love me."


"I love you Matthew Lloyd, more than anything or anybody in the world."


"And I love you Dean Sorrenson, more than anything or anybody in the world."




It was nine o'clock on Christmas morning when the bell to the front door chimed and I struggled into my dressing gown and went bleary eyed and exhausted to the door. I opened it and saw Henry and Janice grinning at me, so I stood back and let them in. As they did, Matthew, dressed only in his underpants, stumbled down the stairs and ran into their arms. I closed the door and waited, self-consciously, for the Lloyd family to have their special loving. I decided to leave them and went into the kitchen and switched on the kettle.


I'd just made a pot of tea when I heard a sound behind me. I turned and saw Janice looking at me. She looked haggard, and I felt so damned sorry that her son and I had inflicted so much suffering to her, especially when her pregnancy was so obvious. But, like Matthew, despite her situation, she had lost none of her natural beauty. "You look beautiful, Janice. I'm sorry for what's happened."


She smiled, and came to me, and we hugged. I knew how much she cared for me, and as she rested her head on my chest, I caressed her hair. I felt the hug tighten, and I knew she knew how I was feeling, too. She pulled away, took my hands and looked into my eyes. "It doesn't matter now. All's well that ends well. Did you both have a good sleep last night?"


I grinned. "It was late when we went to sleep."


She giggled. "I thought it might be. How's the tea coming on?"


I turned and looked at the teapot. "I think it's brewed. Shall we have some?"


She let go of my hands. "I think we'd better, before they come in."


Simple words, but they told me that, had we met in a different world, we would have been lovers. It's just as well we did, because Henry and Matthew came in carrying bags full of stuff. 


Christmas was a strange affair, full of positive and negative emotions. It was great that Matthew and I were back together, but we couldn't eat rich food, which is what Christmas is all about. I'd bought no presents for anyone, and neither had Matthew, but Henry and Janice had got some for their son. After a very light dinner, I sat on the sofa with Matthew's parents and we watched him on the sheepskin rug opening his gifts. Most of the presents were clothes, but there was one other thing in a massive box which made him yell with delight: an electric train set. It's strange how some things suddenly smack you in the mouth to bring you back to reality. Those days, I rarely, if ever, thought of Matthew as a child, but when I saw his happy face as he opened the childish gift, I realized that, in many ways, he was still a child.


He looked up at me. "Where can I put it?"


"I dunno, but it's not going in my bloody office!"


He giggled. "Our office!"


"Our office then, but it's still not going in the bloody office!"


"How about the bedroom?"


"How about the bloody garage?"


He licked his tongue out at me. "The front bedroom it is then. You'll have to clean all your rubbish out."


"Why not the small bedroom?"


"Don't be daft. It's too big to go in there." Then he cocked his head to one side, and I knew he was scheming. "How about we knock the wall out between the small bedroom and our bedroom, then, when you're snoring like a pig because you're old and past it, I can play with my train set."


I laughed, and gave up. I would never win with my boy, and I was happy that I wouldn't. Losing to him was part of the reason why I adored him. Janice and Henry were also laughing. Part of our laughter was relief that Matthew was getting back to the boy we all loved so much.


All the gifts were opened, and I suggested we have coffee and a brandy. Henry thought it was a great idea, but he said there was just one more present to open. He got up and went into the hall, came back, and gave me a present. "We didn't leave you out. It's from Janice and I. Merry Christmas, Dean."


The present was flat, and about A4 size. Matthew came and knelt on the carpet in front of me while I opened it. It was a photograph of him at the campsite. I remembered it well. It was one Henry had taken when Matthew was giggling at me being Captain Kidd. He wasn't self consciousness, or posing in the photo - it was Matthew being Matthew, the boy I loved. What made it especially meaningful was that the only clothes he was wearing were the khaki shorts which turned me on. I clamped my arms to my sides and dropped my head and tried to stifle the sobs that were simmering below the surface, but I failed, and tears escaped and ran down my cheeks. Matthew took the photo from me and looked at it. Then he put it on the sofa and did something we'd never done before. In front of his parents, he cupped my face in his hands, planted his lips firmly onto mine, and kissed me softly and passionately. If they had any doubts about how much their son and I meant to each other, they could have none now. I closed my eyes, put my arms around my boy, and hugged him to me.


Henry saved me from more embarrassment. "I'll get that brandy. Where is it Dean?"


"In the drinks cabinet. In the unit."


Henry went to the cabinet and I heard him searching for the brandy. Then I felt Janice sit next to me. She put her arms through mine, and rested her head on my shoulder. Matthew took her hand and brought it to my lips, and I kissed the slender fingers. There was no fooling my boy. He held his mother's hand at my lips for a while, and then let it fall to my thighs, and Janice's fingers stoked me. Then she pulled away as Matthew got up from the floor and held out his hands and helped me to my feet.


He grinned. "You old softie you! Whatever am I going to do with you?"


I looked at him. "You can start by clearing up this bloody mess on the carpet. Bloody kids!"


Matthew Says:


Despite the circumstances, it was a wonderful Christmas, and Dean and I were now a lot better. After the first couple of days, we began to eat like pigs. The third day after Christmas, by dad's invitation, we had some visitors: Dr Two-a-Penny and his wife and two daughters. One was as old as me, and the other was fifteen. The young one, Emily, wouldn't leave me alone, and I knew I'd get some stick from Dean about it later. It turned out to be a great day. At about eleven, dad asked Dean if he and The Doctor could take the boat out for a spin. Dean gave them a hand. As soon as the small speed boat was in the river, The Doctor took the wheel and they sped off in the direction of Hereford. It was four hours later when they got back, both semi-inebriated. `We met some mates', they said. Of the adults, only Dean didn't believe them. I'd not told him that dad and The Doctor were Special Forces, and the home of Special Forces was at Credenhill, in Hereford.


It was seven in the evening when the Doctor and his family left. His wife was driving and my special doctor was just about to get in the passenger front seat when I called to him, and walked towards him. "Oi you, come here!"


He grinned, and walked back to me, and when he reached me, I gave him a huge hug.


I felt his arms come around me. "What do you want, Stinky Pants?"


I had a present in my hand, which I'd wrapped with some of the paper that had been discarded after we'd opened our presents. "I forgot to give you your Christmas present."


He took the gift from me, and ripped off the wrapping. It was the photograph of me, which Dean kept on the office desk. I'd taken it out of the frame and written on it before putting it back in its frame.


My doctor looked at it and read the words. `Matthew loves you, Dr Two-a-Penny.' He stared at the photograph, and then he stretched out his left arm, inviting me to him. I sank into him. His strong arm crushed me to him. Then he relaxed and pushed me slightly away. He lifted my chin, and we looked into each other's eyes. "Aren't you going to thank me for saving your life?"


I grinned at him, and lowered my voice. "No chance. Just sod off Dr Two-a-Penny."


He giggled. "Just remember what I told you. I'm always here for you whenever you need me. Ok?"


I nodded. "You can do me one favour."


"What's that?"


"Take care, and look after yourself. Ok?"


He scuffed me under the chin and then went back to the car. He didn't even look at me as they drove off. It didn't bother me. It was just another part of our adversarial rapport.




It was the second of January 2007 when mum and dad went home. I went with them. Dean persuaded me to go. He said it was best for both of us. He needed to get back to work, but more importantly, mum and dad needed some quality time with the son they'd almost lost. Once again, Dean's unselfishness had come to the fore, and I told him I loved him for it.


"I'm not being unselfish," he said. "Snug needs some time off, or he'll finish up at the doctors."


One week I was away, and then I caught the train to Hereford and Dean picked me up at the station. When we were driving home, he asked how Snug was.


"He's fine now. Why do you ask?"


He grinned at me. "No reason. No reason at all, apart from being concerned for his welfare."


I put my hand on his thigh and stroked it. "He's missed you."


Dean removed my hand. "Leave me alone, or I'll crash the car."


I giggled, and put my hand back on his thigh. "Put your foot down will you. I need to get your clothes off."




A few of the synonyms for lust are, desire: long for: yearn: ache for. However, words cannot describe exactly that trait when it's coupled with that other deep emotion: love. Especially when you love someone so deeply that it hurts not to be with them. And lust and that deep love is what I felt for Dean, and he for me, and when we came together, we were like two possessed animals as we stripped naked and went to the part of the sofa where Dean had placed a throw-over earlier in the day in anticipation of this moment.


Dean took me first. I allowed him to, because I knew his greatest turn on was devouring my body and satisfying my sexual needs. I lay back, whimpering and moaning as I watched him biting and sucking and kissing his way down the body he craved. I was lying flat along the sofa and Dean was on his knees on the floor, which gave him access to all of me. Willie was erect and pulsating when Dean got to him, and with his saliva covered lips each side of my throbbing member, he crushed it to my belly and began long slow caresses from its base to the fully exposed knob. I felt his hand grasp my ball-sack and his fingers slide along the subcutaneous continuation of my penis and insert into Snug. I spread my legs, one over his left shoulder and the other over the back of the sofa to give him complete access. The finger went deeper, and his lips pressed harder, pushing my foreskin on and off the gorged, pulsating knob. Just the sight of what he was doing was enough to bring me to a tremendous climax, and I watched spurts of semi-thick semen shoot out and land on my belly and chest. As soon as I'd relaxed, Dean devoured every drop of it, and then came onto the sofa and lay on top of me, and I wrapped my arms and legs around him and crushed him to me. The kiss was brutal, but we felt no pain. He raised himself on his arms, and stared down into my eyes.


"Did you miss me?"


I swallowed hard, and nodded.


He grinned. "That was just starters. I've got plans. You do realise this is going to take a long time, don't you?"


I nodded. "Do you want a smoke?"


Dean smiled and got up, went to the kitchen and returned with a tub of Vaseline, lit a cigarette, and sat on the sofa. As he smoked his cigarette, I looked at his broad back, which had now filled out and toned up. It turned me on, so I got up and knelt behind him and bit into the back and sides of his neck and gyrated Willie against his nakedness. While I was doing it, I was thinking. It wasn't just Dean who had made plans. I had hurt my beautiful man, and I needed punishment for doing it. I knew Dean wouldn't entertain the notion I should be castigated, but I didn't need his acquiescence to administer retribution on myself; and I would enjoy doing it.


As soon as Dean had finished his cigarette, I sat back on the sofa and made him kneel on it with his legs straddling my thighs. William was poking me in the face, so I took hold of him with both hands and kissed him. Dean, with his hands steadying himself by gripping the back of the sofa, tried to push him into my mouth, but I was having none of it. William was my ally; the only one I could trust to desecrate me for hurting my man. I opened the Vaseline and applied it to William. Then, gripping him tightly, I smeared my forehead and eyes and nose and firmed lips and cheeks and chin with the bulbous protrusion until he ejected his pent up love onto my face until it ran from my eye sockets and nose and lips and chin, and down my chest and belly and around the sides of my boy erection, and into the cleft of my boy buttocks.


That was the desecration. Now for the pain.


Dean was about to ease away, but the look I gave him told him that it would be a foolish thing to do. Still covered in his man juice, I lifted my butt from the sofa, placed my feet over my lover's shoulders, wiped some love juices from my belly, and inserted three fingers covered with it, into Snug. Then I took hold of William and led him into the place he loved to be. In he went, over my love spot that made me yell with excitement, and still deeper to the part that gave me pain; that delicious pain which made my senses reel. I was the master of my pain destiny, and as I held Dean's hips, I pushed and pulled until I was getting the maximum heights of passion and the greatest amount of pain, until, only too soon for me, the sensuality of the act and the knowledge Dean was about to come again, made me spasm and reach a tremendous, shuddering, screaming climax. There, it was done, and I felt so much better for it.


Dean withdrew, got up, lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bathroom. He ran a bath, placed me in it, and gently washed me from head to foot. He drained the water, refilled it, and we both got in together with me lying back into him. And then we made love without having sex. My act of self deprecation was not mentioned by word, but knowing looks and smiles from both of us cleared the air of any comebacks. Dean knew exactly what I'd done, and why I'd done it, and even though I knew he didn't like to hurt me, I knew Dean had accepted the situation, and I was much happier with myself for having done it. In fact, I had enjoyed doing it, because I was now very aware of my sexual kinks.


We spent the rest of the evening and night making love. Well, it was a case of me milking every last drop of sex from myself before we were both too worn out to continue, and finally, in our favourite chair sleeping position, we fell asleep: a man in love with his boy, and a boy in love with his man.

To be continued...