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 sixteen.


Matthew Says:


It was Thursday 17th of March 1978, just before my fourteenth birthday. I'd not gone to college so I could do some swotting on my own. I needed to. My tutor had come to the conclusion he'd reached the limit of his ability to teach me, and I was waiting for someone else to move up a grade so I could take their place. I was in our dual office at home. One part was organized, and the other was organized chaos. Dean's was the former, and mine was the latter with bags of my work stuff all over the place. I decided in one of my rare moments of house maintenance, to sort some of the stuff out and tidy the place up a bit. I picked up a bag, and tipped the contents on the desk and began to sort through what I should keep and what I could bin. The first thing that caught my eye was a copy of the stuff dad sent to me about Harry that I'd hidden away before I gave Dean the other copy. It was minus the photo of Harry when he was a schoolboy, because that was now in Dean's tin box, but everything else was intact. At the top was the photo of Harry as he was just over a year ago. I looked at it, put it down, and began to read the rest of the stuff. There was nothing in it I didn't already know because I'd read it a dozen times that fateful day before Dean and I split up, and then re-read it numerous times when I was depressed after Dean and I had parted. Harry was studying at the college in Hereford, and would be almost twenty now. Amongst the papers was a single sheet. It was a copy of a police report from 1972. I giggled as I read it. Harry's name was one amongst others alleging they'd been `sexually active' with a man who worked at a travelling fair. No charges were brought, but a file was kept on the incident. You fool, Harry. You really should have put your address on that note you gave to Dean. He would have kept you satisfied so you didn't have to fuck about with gypsies. I looked through the other stuff, and a plan began to form in my mind.


I got off the bus and walked to Folly Lane. It was almost mid-day. I'd telephoned the college to see what time the students would take lunch, and they told me twelve-thirty. I asked the receptionist to pass a message to Harry Pattinson - John Salt would meet him at the entrance at lunchtime. There was a long wall by the entrance, and I sat on it, waiting to see if the message had been passed on. If it hadn't, I could still hope to catch him coming out of the college. I was as nervous as Hell while I waited.


It was just after twelve thirty when I saw him by the college gates, looking around to see who it was who wanted to meet him. When I saw him, my emotions were mixed. This young man, when he was a boy, had he been clever, would have changed my life for ever had he and Dean met. Maybe, even now, it would not have been me meeting him here, it may very well have been Dean, and that thought sickened me and made me angry and even more determined to do what I had planned to do.


He was surprised when I jumped from the wall and went to him.


"Hello. Are you Harry Pattinson?"


He looked at me with those same brown eyes Dean had fallen in love with. They were still lovely. "Who are you?"


"I'm John Salt. I need to talk to you. It's important."


"I can't talk now. I'm going for some dinner."


Now I was riled. "It's only one day in your life, Harry, and it is important. Well, it is to me, and I know you very well, even though you don't know me. I also know everything about you, including your romp with that gypsy fellow. Can we walk and talk?"


"Who the fuck are you, you little bastard?"


`Little bastard!'I gave him a withering look. "Let's just say that with a single telephone call, I can put you in jail for a long time. Don't fuck with me Harry. I may only be a young man, but I really can carry out that threat. I don't want to, and after we've talked, I promise to get out of your life and you won't ever see or hear from me again. Is it a deal?" I saw Harry wavering. "You were heading this way. Come on, let's walk and we'll chat as we go." I turned, and began walking. Harry caught up with me, and we walked in silence. My threat had worried him.


"What do you want from me?"


I was silent for a while. "About nine years ago, you were walking through a shopping mall with your mother. A blonde haired man, with blue eyes and aged about twenty came towards you. He couldn't take his eyes off you. You passed him, and then turned round to look at him. He did the same. Later, you were in a café, and so was he. You wrote him a note telling him you liked him and wanted to meet him, and you put your first name on it, and also your phone number. Oh, and you also put a kiss on it, and then you threw it to him as you left. Do you remember that?"


Harry was shaking his head. "How do you know all this?"


"It's not important. Do you remember?"


Harry took a while to answer. "Yes. Who was he?"


I didn't answer his question. "Did you fall in love with him?" Harry didn't answer. "It's ok, Harry. You're talking to somebody who's just like you. I fall in love with older men too. Did you fall in love with him?"


Harry nodded. "I was in love with him for a long time, and I still think a lot about him now."


"I know exactly what you mean Harry...and how you felt. It's strange. Just one look. That's all it takes. It's as if, when you look at them, their spirit jumps inside you. And once it's in, you can't get rid of it. And it hurts."


Harry looked at me, and I knew he was impressed. "Yes, that's exactly how it was. The moment I clapped eyes on him, I knew we were the same. I wish he'd have telephoned me."


"He did telephone you Harry; three times before your dad said he would call the police if he rang again."


Harry stopped in his tracks, and the look on his face was one of amazement. "He actually rang me?"


"Yes. He was somebody who fell in love with you, too. Why didn't you give him your address? He could have come and found you."


"I wasn't thinking straight. Even though he didn't telephone me, I went back to the mall lots of times after to see if I could see him again, but I never did. Do you know him? What was his name?"


"Yes, I know him. I can't tell you his name. He's my lover."


Harry grimaced. "You lucky sod! Any chance I could meet him again?"


I was sure Harry would detect the pretend sadness in my voice. "No. He wouldn't want you now, Harry. He's a lover of boys. I'm going to lose him one day, and then I'll be like you, searching for a new love." I gave him an enquiring glance. "That is, unless you've found someone?"


Harry shook his head. "No. I'm seeing someone, but it isn't love, if you know what I mean."


I stopped, and looked at Harry. "He was right. He remembered your eyes were like mine."


"Yes they are. You're very beautiful you know. I wish I was still a kid, and I was in your place."


I grinned. "You often are. You're part of our fantasies when we make love."


Harry was smiling now. "Doesn't that make you jealous?"


"No, it was my idea. I like being you. I'm kinky that way. I've got a photo of you when you were eleven, and I picture myself as you when he's inside me massaging my prostate and making me spunk without him touching my cock."


"How have you got a picture of me when I was eleven, and how have you found me?"


I smirked. "My father's a top man in the police force."


Harry looked worried, and then he laughed. "You're a right cheeky sod, I know that. I like my prostate milked too, and I can do what you do. Is he that good?"


"He's fantastic, especially when his full length is in up to my belly. And he drinks every bit of my spunk. I drink his, too."


"Does he tie you up?"


I almost laughed at Harry's revelation that he was as kinky as me, and I told a lie. "Yes, sometimes he does, and sometimes he rapes me. I love it when he does that and I'm pretending that I'm you." My plan was working. I could see Harry getting worked up at my sex talk. "There's one thing missing though."


Harry was breathing heavily. "What's that?"


"The picture I've got of you is with all your clothes on. I can't envisage you without them. I don't know what shape your cock is or anything. I want a photo of you naked at that age. Have you got one?"


Harry swallowed hard. "No I haven't. Not with nothing on at that age. I've got one when I was abut five with nothing on. I can show you that." Then I noticed a slight change in Harry, and I knew exactly what he was going to say, and I was delighted because I'd thought we might have to meet a few times before I got him to do what I wanted him to do. He continued, "I can show you what I look like now. Do you want to see?"


I pretended to be flustered. "How can we do that?"


"Come on, and I'll show you."


Harry began walking, and I followed. He turned right into a side street, and then led us to the front door of a semi-detached house. He fumbled for his keys, unlocked the door, and we went in. This had worked out far better than I planned. The best I had hoped for was that we might, eventually, end up in a field somewhere.


"I live here. Come on. Let's go upstairs. Nobody will be home until teatime."


I followed him into his bedroom and looked around, and noticed every detail of the room. That was important for my own fantasies later when I was pretending to be Harry while Dean was fucking me. Our talk, as we walked to his house, had certainly aroused Harry, because, when we got to his bedroom, he certainly wasn't backwards at coming forwards. He took off his coat, dropped his trousers and underpants, and I looked at the swollen penis. Like mine, it was uncut, and I was elated at the discovery, and I knew I wouldn't have to ask for permission when I went down to my knees and took him in my mouth, and neither did Harry protest as I sucked him until he exploded into the back of my throat and then swallowed every bit of his semen.


I really should have been in the acting profession, because after I'd wiped my mouth, I fawned over Harry and told him how sexy he was, and I even managed to shed a few crocodile tears as I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him and told him how precious he was. Of course, he responded, and asked if he could do something to me. I thought he would be straight in and want to fuck me, but, instead, he asked if he could suck my cock because he wanted to please me. Because that was part of my plans, Harry really was making it easy for me, so I dropped my jeans, lay back on the bed with my legs dangling over the edge, and he sucked me off, and I shot my sperm into his throat, and he swallowed it eagerly.


Just one more thing to do now: the final act. "Have you got any Vaseline, Harry?"


"No, but I've got some gel I use. I'll get it." Harry messed about in a drawer, and found it. When he came back to me, I was already in position; naked, and kneeling on the bed with Snug at the ready.


I turned my head around to him. "Pretend you're the man you fell in love with. Do to me what you wanted him to do to you. I don't care what it is, just do it."


I felt Harry's greased fingers penetrate me, and he certainly wasn't being gentle. He was ramming them into me, and I began my sexy, dirty talk. "That's it Mike. Thank God you've found me and picked me up from school. I'm only eleven, but I knew the moment you looked at me that you wanted me. You want my beautiful boy body, and my little boy cock. You want to fuck me, don't you Mike? Oh yes Mike, you do, and I want you to fuck me. I'm Harry Pattinson, the beautiful little boy you've fallen in love with. Fuck my bum Mike. I'm all yours. Ohhhh, yes, that's it. Put your big man cock in me. That's it. More! More!" The dirty talk banished any reservations Harry might have had, because I felt Harry's penis slam into me as far as it would go, and he bucked at my butt, almost knocking me off my knees. His hands gripped my hip bones, and he pulled me roughly back to him on every thrust. I began to buck back on him at the same time. "Oh yes! Oh yes! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" And Harry shot his load deep into me.


There. It was done.


Sitting on the bus back home, I smiled to myself. Harry had wanted more, but I made the excuse that I had to get back to school. He was still a fool. He didn't even ask what school I went to, not that I would have told him. The only thing I did say to him after I'd put my clothes back on was that this would remain a secret all our lives, and if he mentioned it to anyone, or if he made a move for me in the street if we happened to meet, he would regret it for the rest of his life. He nodded like a parrot when I said it.


The object of the exercise was simple: I was part Harry Pattinson now. I'd swallowed his semen, and my body would convert the very essence of him into my bloodstream, just as Dean and I were now part of him, because the semen he'd swallowed from me also contained part of Dean. And when Dean swallowed my semen later, he would also be swallowing part of the boy he once loved. I'd created my very own, cannibalistic, ménage-a-trois.

Why had I made him fuck me? That was also simple. I was just being kinky. I'd no intention of washing or relieving myself until Dean came home. I would make him fuck me as soon as he did. The act would be all the better knowing Dean's semen was mixing with the boy's he once loved. Dean wouldn't know it, but I would. And why had I gone to all these lengths? It was because, apart from the day he'd left me at the site, the time I gave him the photo of Harry was the only moment in our relationship when I was powerless to make Dean do as I wanted. I also controlled Harry now. When we were having sex, I'd referred to Dean as `Mike'. So, from now on, and for the rest of his life, Harry would always think of Dean as `Mike'. Tough shit, Harry. I knew I'd get even with you one day. You shouldn't have fucked about with the insides of the head of the man who I love more than life itself. You very nearly cost me my life, and Dean's. Revenge is sweet.

And neither do I make excuses for being a control freak. We are what we are, and nobody gets the better of Matthew Lloyd. Power and control is an elixir to me. It's the driving force behind everything I do, including sex. Especially sex. Now, I can go back to loving my man for as long as he'll have me. It's still looking good. Only yesterday he said he was enjoying me more than he'd ever done. I'm hoping and praying that it will be forever, because I can't imagine life without my beautiful lover.

The van pulled into the drive, and I smiled as I switched the kettle on and then went into the lounge to make sure the fire was nice and cosy. I heard the door go, and Dean came to me. I felt his arms come around me and his warm lips on my neck, and I turned and looked into the fabulous blue eyes that warmed my soul. I put my arms around his neck and pulled his face down to mine, and kissed him passionately. I chewed on his tongue and sucked it, and he responded by crushing our bodies together.

He pulled away from me, and looked into my eyes. "It isn't my birthday, is it? Why are you wearing just your dressing gown?"

I grinned at him, and took his hand and led him into the lounge, and to the sofa, which already had the throw-over in place, and then I lay back and lifted my legs. He looked at Snug, who was already well lubricated, and he dropped his trousers and underpants. William was at his best, and soon, he was in his comfortable home, searching for the pleasures only I, Matthew Lloyd, could give him. It didn't take long for us both to reach the peak of togetherness; the sexuality of what we were; the love only he and I shared, and when I lay screaming with the wonder of the exquisite pain and the erotic sensualities combined with the elixir of control, I experienced the most fabulous peak of sex I'd ever had in my life.

When it was over, after Dean had licked my love juices from my belly, we kissed and cuddled for a long time, and then Dean looked at me with a smile on his beautiful face. "I don't know what brought that on, but whatever it was that made you randy, it was certainly something special. You haven't had a new tutor at College, have you?"

I stuck my tongue out at him, and grinned. "No. It must have been the Mulligatawny soup I had for lunch."

Dean burst into laughter, and I joined him. Dean probably thought it was an off the cuff remark, but I still remembered his comment when, just after we'd got back together again, and after he'd licked up my semen when I was pretending to be Harry, he had said that `Harry's' semen had tasted like Mulligatawny soup. Well, the real `Mulligatawny soup' was now mixing merrily away with Dean's semen deep inside me. I hoped they were having a ball, because I was. I also reckoned that by tomorrow, when my body had converted Harry's semen into my own being, and Dean had sucked me off, he would be drinking the real `Mulligatawny soup', and the job would be complete, and with a bit of luck and a fair wind, Dean and I and Harry could live happily ever after.


Dear readers, there is an Epilogue to follow shortly. Please don't miss it!

Hugs from Matthew. XXX