Boys Can Be Lovers Too 7

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.

Anyone wishing to contact me can do so at john.thestoryteller@gmail.com

Thanks to all those who have mailed me and enjoyed the story so far. If I haven't replied, it's because there are so many. My apologies if I don't.

Boys can be lovers, too.

Part seven.

Dean Says:

Tuesday of the Lloyd second week.

Things had been different between Matthew and me since we made love on the headland at port Isaac. He became far more assured about our liaison. Even our lovemaking changed. No longer was he the six or seven times multi-orgasmic boy trying different things and who never seemed satisfied whatever I did to or for him. Now, each session was three times at the most. Our night-time sex was the one he liked best. The first climax was always the same. Passively, because he knew how much his small body turned me on, he allowed me complete and unfettered access to every inch of him before he forced his boyhood into my mouth when his arousal reached a peak. Then, if he was hungry for me and also wanted the third act to last longer, he would do the same to me. The last act was either him sitting on me, or me behind him pounding him doggie style, or him on his back and me taking him with his legs pulled back over his shoulders. All seemed to have the same affect providing every inch of me was buried deep inside him and my pelvic bone was pummelling his beautiful butt as he multi-climaxed until we both reached a simultaneous peak of ecstasy. He was a noisy little sod, too, with his loud moans and squeals as he reached the peaks of his sexual satisfaction. There was also our morning sex. If I woke first, I went down on him. If Matthew woke first, he would go down on me, and for `afters', Willie would be bouncing off my tonsils. Then we would kiss and love each other before going down to the rocks below our site with a bar of soap and dive and swim and wash ourselves clean in the sparkling blue ocean.

Tuesday morning, I woke first and went down on him, and then I gave him a bonus by finishing him off doggy style, which I knew he'd particularly enjoyed because of his loud yells as he climaxed as I emptied my love juices deep inside his wonderful, sexy butt. When I was sure Matthew was satisfied enough not to want to start again in view of all and sundry, we went in our flip-flops and speedos down the headland to our favourite rock. Holding hands, we jumped into the freezing Atlantic and surfaced, gasping and laughing at the shock of the cold sea. Back on the rock, Matthew did something totally unexpected; he stripped off his speedo and jumped in. When he surfaced, his grin was a delight and he waved his hand, beckoning me to join him.

"Come on Dean, take them off and dive in. It's lovely being a nudist."

I laughed at him, took off my speedo and made a perfect dive into the blue ocean, coming up just a short distance from where he was treading water, and then we climbed back to our rock. Matthew looked fantastic. Willie was soft (a rare sight) and hung down over his scrotum. He'd tanned superbly since the beginning of the holiday and the whiteness of the parts of his body that had been protected from the sun by his speedo contrasted distinctly with the rest of him. His speedo was the briefest of brief, which left his tan line well below the cleft of his cute butt.

I was admiring my lover's beautiful body when out of the corner of my eye I saw a man about two hundred yards away, watching us through binoculars. I put my hand on Matthew's shoulder. "I think we have an audience. Whatever you do, don't stare. Look on the other side of the valley; about half way up; by the white quartz rock. Can you see him?"

Matthew adjusted his position. "I know who it is. He's the bloke with the black poodle who's staying in one of the static vans on the left as we walk down to the clubhouse. He's been giving me the eye since I got here. I think he's on his own. I've only seen him and his dog. He gets in the clubhouse at night"

I was amazed Matthew hadn't mentioned him before. I laughed. "So, we've got another boy-lover with us. Do you fancy him?"

Matthew hummed. "Maybe. I suppose he'd do at a push. Maybe if I hadn't met you I could have had it away with him."

Matthew's comment made me chuckle. "Maybe you could. Maybe I'm getting in the way of a good fuck. Do you want a night off and try your luck with him?"

Matthew came to me, wrapped his arms around me and crushed his body to mine. Then he broke away and looked into my eyes. "There, that should give you an answer and it will tell him to fuck off as well because he'll know now I've got what I want. Besides, I forgot to tell you, he isn't much taller than me and I'm not into midgets. I like my men tall, handsome, and well endowed. He might be well endowed for all I know, but he isn't the other two. Come on, let's give him a treat. No more swimming trunks until we leave. I hope he's got a camera with a good lens."

We spent the rest of our time exhibiting ourselves as much as possible and then dried off and walked, laughing, back to the tent. Henry was sitting in his canvas chair when we arrived.

He looked at us and grinned. "What trouble have you rogues been up to then?"

Matthew answered. "We've been skinny dipping and a bloke has been watching us. We gave him something to think about when he goes to bed tonight."

"Which one of you did he fancy then?"

Matthew snorted. "Me of course! There's nothing sexy about that long haired hippie."

Henry and I broke down laughing. His son was an amusing young man at times.

We spent another perfect day in our cove before Matthew decided we'd spend the late evening in the clubhouse where we could play bar-billiards and listen to the jukebox. I thought I knew what he was up to, and when we were ready and I saw he'd put on the very brief shorts he was wearing when I first saw him, I grinned to myself. `Shorty', as we now called him, was in for a treat if he was in the clubhouse.

He was; on his own with his dog settled by his feet. We were a bit early and the place wasn't too full. Matthew chose a table as near to Shorty as we could get and arranged our seating so both he and I were facing my new adversary. I went to the bar to get the drinks and when I returned, Matthew was sitting back in his chair with his hands behind his head and his legs spread wide. When I placed his drink in front of him, I whispered in his ear. "I think he's got a hard on already."

Matthew giggled. I gave Henry and Janice their drinks and sat down.

Henry narrowed his eyes. "What are you two up to again?"

Matthew answered. "Nothing dad." The way he said it told Henry that we were, and he grinned. Janice just smiled a loving smile at the son she loved. She knew him too well and was aware the devil in him was up to something.

Henry got the second round of drinks while we waited our turn to get on the bar-billiards table. That arrangement was by paying Pete for a half hour session, and in return, he gave us a numbered raffle ticket which denoted whose turn it was. Pete was always spot on and nobody argued with him when he called out the next number, even if they were halfway through a game.

Henry sat down and grinned. "I know what you're up to now you young rogue. Mr Poodle is here." Henry whispered in Janice's ear, and she giggled.

Matthew acted the innocent. "I don't know what you mean dad. Who's Mr Poodle?"

I was belly chuckling now.

Henry put his elbows on the table, leaned forward and with his right index finger, beckoned Matthew towards him. Matthew put his elbows on the table, leaned forward and stared into his father's eyes.

"Mr Poodle, young man, is the man who's staying in one of the static vans and Mr Poodle, young man, is the one who's been ogling you since the day you arrived. Mr Poodle, young man, is sitting almost behind me and he's the man you've been teasing since we got in here and I'll wager that Mr Poodle is the same person who was watching you this morning and I wouldn't be a bit surprised if the reason you wanted to come here tonight is because you specially wanted to tease him. Am I right, young man?"

Matthew knew he was beaten, but he still kept a straight face when he replied. "Oh, you mean Shorty? Yes, he's sitting where you said he is. Is that what you call him? Mr Poodle? That's a good name. I wish we'd thought of that."

I burst out laughing and let father and son sort themselves out. This battle was nothing to do with me. Before the battle could reach another level, Pete called out our number and we decided to play a foursome; Henry and Matthew versus Janice and me. I was pretty good at bar billiards, having represented my local in the pub leagues in Hereford. Henry made a mistake in the first game and I cleared up. Matthew looked daggers at me. Janice and I lost the second game and Matthew punched the air. I was getting to know my boy a little more each day. He wasn't a good loser.

I watched everything he did and noticed that whenever he was playing a ball from the far side of the table, he took his shot quickly. When he was playing from the front, he took his time, bent over to inspect the balls and then finally, with his cute butt sticking up as high as he could get it, he took the shot. I knew what he was doing: displaying his butt to Shorty. I also noticed that I couldn't see the hemline of his underpants beneath his shorts. When he bent over, the tight shorts disappeared up the crevice of his butt. Because they were khaki, it didn't take a great leap of thought to imagine he had nothing on. I was becoming aroused myself, so I stopped looking. Poor Shorty must have been sweating. We were in the middle of the fifth and deciding game when Pete called out the next number, so we left the table without a victor. Thank goodness for that.

We got back to our table and Matthew asked Henry for some coins to put in the jukebox. He got up, went to it, selected a couple of songs and sauntered back. When he sat down, he leaned against me, wrapped his arms around my biceps and rested his head on my shoulder. The first song he selected was The Wurzels singing `Combine Harvester'. When it ended, Matthew hugged me tighter and then stretched a hand out across the table to his dad, who took it and held it. The Real Thing began singing: `You to me are everything', and Henry put his other arm around Janice's shoulders and drew her to him. I looked at Janice and our eyes met. She stretched out a hand and I took it. Now we were all linked, and we stayed like that until the song finished. It was a beautiful moment. The song ended and we returned to our drinks and conversation about what we would do the following day. I suggested we visit Padstow. Janice overruled me. Padstow was for Friday; our last day here.

At eleven, we decided to leave. Just as we got out the door, Henry stopped and muttered that he'd left his cigars on the table. I was about to tell him I'd seen him pick them up when I felt his strong hand crush my bicep. I stopped mid-sentence. He told Janice and Matthew to start walking back and we would join them. Matthew linked his mother and they strolled off. Henry went back into the bar and I followed him. He went directly to Shorty and leaned across the table until his face was just a few inches from the voyeur.

Henry's voice was deep and ominous. "Shorty, if you so much as look at either of my sons again, I'll cut your balls off and feed them to that fucking dog you've got there. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" Shorty began to protest, but Henry put a finger to his lips to shush him, and the voice died away. I would have done what Shorty did. Any sane man would. So, this was the real Henry. Jeezus; thank goodness he was on my side. Shorty didn't speak a word. Instead, he swallowed hard and nodded rapidly. Henry turned away. I did the same and followed him out the door.

We walked for a short way before I spoke. "Sons?"

Henry was serious. "You're Matthew's half brother."

"I don't understand."

Henry stopped. I stopped. "Then you'd better start understanding unless you want to end up in jail. It's pretty simple. You were taken into care when you were a baby. Fifteen years later, your mother had another baby by another man and that baby was also taken into care. We adopted that child. That child is Matthew."

"How do you..." My voice trailed off. "Of course, you know everything about me. But I'm still puzzled by the Matthew bit. He can't be my real half brother. He was conceived in Padstow to you and Janice."

Henry smiled. "At least your brain is working now. No, of course he isn't, but by the time I've finished with some paperwork, he will be. By the way, you do know he's coming to live with you don't you?" My shock was obvious to Henry. "He hasn't told you, has he? The little sod hasn't even given you a clue. I should kick his butt big time. Well, unless you don't want him, he is. He demanded it. That's why he's coming home with you on Saturday and not returning with us. Do you want him?"

My mind was all over the place. "Do I want him? Of course I do. But he belongs to you, not me. I can't take him away from you. It's not fair."

Henry put his arm on my shoulder and we began to saunter back to the caravan and tents. "Nothing's fair in love and war. This is the love bit. We need to have a long talk, you and I, but the basics are that Matthew is already growing away from us. I did tell you he needed special education, but what I didn't tell you was that in September he was going to York. Well, I've made some changes. Since Matt demanded he go and live with you, I've found another college that can cater for his intellect. It's near to you: Ross-on-Wye. Now do you understand? Not only has his college been decided, but he's also got free board and lodgings and he's not too far away from us. Well, not as far as York and not quite free board and lodgings; he will have his allowance to tide you over. So, do you want him?"

This was almost too much to take in and I mumbled a reply. "Yes. Ross-on-Wye is only ten miles from where I live. I can sort that."

Henry slapped me on the back. "Good man. Things happen in strange ways sometimes. It seems we're all winners this time. Come on, let's go and join Janice and Matt. Oh, a word of warning: go easy on Matt for not telling you. He's got quite a bite if you upset him."

Matthew says.

Mum and I were sipping coffee when dad and Dean joined us. I was in no doubt they'd been talking about me, and very probably it was about me going to live in Hereford. Dad had told me what he'd arranged and said he would be telling Dean later. I was sitting by mum. Dad got two glasses and a half-full bottle of Scotch out of a cupboard and sat opposite mum. My beautiful lover slipped in opposite me. Dad poured two large measures; one for himself and one for Dean, who downed it in one go, and looked at me. I could see in his eyes that he wasn't pleased. We played cards for a while. The bottle of Scotch disappeared and mum said she was tired, so Dean and I left and went to his tent after we'd used the caravan chemical toilet to have a pee.

Dean lay on his back and let me zip up the tent. I lay beside him and threw an arm and a leg over him, snuggled onto his shoulder and kissed the side of his face. He was quiet and didn't return my affections. Had it not been for his hand caressing my butt, he could have been asleep. I waited for a while until I realised he wasn't going to make the first move. "Are you angry with me?"

His voice was gritty. "No."

The singular answer warned me that I needed to take things easy with him. He was lying: he was angry with me. Well, at least he wasn't best pleased. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For not telling you I was coming to live with you. That's what this is about isn't it? If you don't want me, I can tell dad to send me to York." I felt his jaw clamp and heard him grind his teeth. He was angrier than I'd expected him to be.

"Of course I fucking want you! But don't you think you should have consulted me?"

"If I had, you'd have said `no'. I know how you work. You think of other people all the time. You're too unselfish."

He was quiet for a while. "What's wrong with being unselfish?"

"There's everything wrong with being unselfish. The world passes you by when you're unselfish. You lose out on the things you want because you don't want to hurt or use people. I'm different, especially about anything to do with you. I've just found you and fallen in love with you and I want that now; I want it tomorrow and I want it for as long as I can get it, and if you think I'm going to let your morals and unselfishness get in the way of me having that, then you don't understand me. So that's why I didn't tell you. We're going to live together until you don't want me anymore and then I'll get out of your life. Well, what do you think of that?"

Dean exhaled a deep sigh. "You're like your father. He frightens me too."

Dean's words chilled me inside. I pondered over his words and realised I should have consulted him before I made mum and dad sort things. The thought that Dean's actions and thoughts would be affected by fear of what might happen to him if he didn't do as I or dad said were awful. I wanted our relationship to be mutual; unconditional; and not based on fear. Despite what I wanted, I'd done the opposite. Dean had been left with very little choice, not out of unselfishness, but wholly because of my selfishness, and because I loved Dean with every beat of my heart, I knew I'd made the wrong move. I was really angry with myself for my stupidity and lack of thought.

Dean's hand stopped moving over my butt. I looked at his face and saw that the beers and the Scotch had taken their toll. I unfurled myself from him, unzipped the tent, pulled out my airbed and sleeping bag and pillows and went to my own tent and cried. Oh how I cried! The sobs that came from deep within me were hurting: actually hurting. I went to sleep hurting and I was still hurting when I awoke and thought about the previous night. When I went out of the tent, I was distraught. Dean's tent was gone. All that was left of him was a flattened, anaemic square of grass where his tent had been. I ran to the car park and his Ford Capri was nowhere to be seen. Crying, I ran back and banged on the caravan door. Dad opened it, and in a blind panic, I fell into his arms.

To be continued...