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Anthony Alboran’s story – Crisp Buddies.
Written by John Teller.
Part seven.
August 8th. Sunday… and I was due back at work on the following day. Two weeks had passed since I first had dinner at Ashton’s, and things were becoming less hectic. It’s what happens, isn’t it? Well, Pederasty for Dummies should tell you that. You go through a few crazy days after your first date, and then you begin to get used to each other. As an example, instead of constantly looking for your boyfriend, you take it as given that he’s around someplace even if you’re not together. He’s at the end of a phone or a short walk or a trip on the bus if you haven’t got a car. He becomes an integral part of your every day existence, and even though you do miss him when he’s not around for whatever reason, it only takes a small thing to remind you of him. You see a young man with a cute bum and you’re comparing it to your boyfriend’s. I did that quite a few times when I was doing a bit of shopping or whatever, and I always finished up chuckling because I knew whatever was behind the shorts/jeans/chinos could not be as nice as my Crisp Buddy’s. He really did have the most beautiful, soft, curvaceous, supple, kissable bum on earth. I teased him about it, telling him that I now looked on it as a separate entity from him. He always giggled and called me a pervert. I never disagreed with him. I am a pervert when it comes to boys’ bottoms.
Wednesday, when we’d got up after staying at his house, I told him I was going to mum’s to take her some flowers because it was my parent’s wedding anniversary. I asked him if he’d be okay with that and told him I’d meet him at my place when I came back. That’s when he asked me for a key to our place so he could let himself in for when I got back.
Our place. That made me chuckle, and I asked him if he was going to pay half the rent if it was now our place. He laughed and said I’d got to take him to Ikea to get a new bed because the one we used was a bit noisy and he didn’t want the neighbours getting nosey because we were making lots of noise in the night. Ikea. He knew about Her and visits to Ikea, and it was his way of teasing me about her. I did have a spare key, and I told him I’d leave it under the mat by the back door. Then, after a quick dose of morning exercise (no, readers… his libido had not diminished with familiarity), I left him and walked home to sort things out. I called at the shops for a few things including a card and a dozen roses for mum, and after I’d done a quick clean at home and put a key to the back door under the mat as promised, I caught the bus and went on my way to mum’s. Riding on buses was thinking time.
Thinking time. I’d not said anything to Ashton, but it had been in my mind. Apart from the pals he played with online on his Xbox, he didn’t seem to bother with any. I thought that was unusual. I mean… all lads his age have pals that they knock about with, and I have to admit that I was feeling a bit guilty because I was thinking I was taking up all of his time when he should have been out socialising with his peers. I decided I would tackle him about it when we were at my place. Ooops! Our place.
I had a nice day with mum and dad, had lunch with them, and then caught the twenty past two bus to go home. I was quite pleased, because Ashton was going to be at our place that night and I was looking forward to fucking his gorgeous bottom as well as all the other things we did, including being able to love each other without keeping our actions part-secret and our voices low all the time. It was when we were at our place that we could be ourselves… when Ashton could be my proper crisp buddy; a pervy little sod!
One good thing about where I lived was that I didn’t have nosey neighbours. In fact I didn’t know the names of those who lived next door. That was because I lived in a street that was partly tenanted houses, and the turnover of tenants was frequent. Most of the terraced houses were owner-occupied, but they were mostly Asians who were gradually beginning to make the area their own. It’s the way they work. They buy one house somewhere; their cousins or whatever buys next door; racist sods that don’t like Asians move out, and as soon as they do that, more Asians move into the area. It never bothered me that they did. The only people who kept me awake at night was the ‘locals’ coming home at three in the morning, pissed as farts. You didn’t get that from the Asians. The only time they caused any problems was when one of them got married. Then the street would be full of Rollers and Mercs and they’d let off a few fireworks. Some of the ‘locals’ complained about the number of Asian kids everywhere. But it never bothered me. They were mostly nice kids who grinned at you, or else they just did their own stuff, like playing cricket at the backs of the houses. They did come uninvited into your backyard a few times to get their ball, but hey… they’re bloody kids playing cricket! Who gives a shit about that? The really bad problem about our street was parking, but because I didn’t have a car, even that didn’t bother me. The only time I ever complained was when two youths had a car at the front of my house and were repairing it. They were replacing the engine. So you can imagine the mess they were making… oil and stuff everywhere. They were Asians, but it wasn’t because of their race that I went out one Sunday morning when they woke me up with their hammering, and I told them to fuck off in no uncertain manner! Because I’m six foot tall and weigh fourteen stone and there’s no fat on me, they soon fucked off.
Anyway, whatever, after getting back from mums at about half past three, as soon as I went in I knew Ashton was there. Typical Ashton. He knew it pissed me off, but he often took a large bottle of Coke from the fridge, and after he’d poured some into a glass, he’d leave the bottle on the worktop in the kitchen. The Coke bottle was there, and I called to him. No answer, so I put the Coke back in the fridge and went upstairs. He was in bed… fast asleep! He’d closed the blinds but had not drawn the curtains, so I could clearly see him. He was facing away from me, on his side of the bed. Why was he in bed at that time of day? I lifted the duvet and saw he was wearing his new yellow boxers. (I’d taken him to town on Monday and bought them for him. He’d been tickled pink that I had… eight pairs in two packs: light blue, yellow, a sandy colour, and grey. Although I liked his briefs, I preferred boxers, and especially I liked short boxers that fit really snugly. You know the type… the ones that cling to their bums and are soft and comfy and show every bit of their gorgeous legs right to the top of their thighs; the ones that show up a boy’s bottom by partly disappearing up his bum crack. That sort; the sort where, when Ashton was walking about the house in just them, he’d always got his hands on his bottom feeling at himself just to give me a hard on because he knew I loved his bottom.) So, he was wearing those boxers, which gave me a message. He wanted to sleep. If he’d been completely naked, he would have wanted sex. I wasn’t disappointed… I loved to look at him when he was asleep. In fact, I decided to join him because I knew we both would need some sleep so he could last longer at night.
But my crisp buddy wasn’t asleep. He was just dozing, or he hadn’t had time to get into a deep sleep. Anyway, he woke when I stripped to my boxers and got in with him, and, sleepily, he said, “You’re back then.”
I snuggled up behind him and pulled him into me. “Caught the twenty past two bus. You left the bloody Coke out again! (I felt him snigger.) How many times do I have to tell you! Then you moan because the damned stuff is warm!”
I heard him snigger. “You’re beginning to sound like Olga.”
I chuckled, and pulled him even closer when I asked “What are you doing in bed at this time of day? Are you Billy-No-Mates? Where’s all your pals. Its school holidays. You should be out playing footy or something.”
“I am Billy-No-Mates. They’re a pain in the arse.”
“Who are?”
“My so-called mates. You’re waking me up, you know!”
(I knew what he meant by his last comment. A wide-awake Ashton became sex on two legs.) “What’s wrong with your mates?”
“They’re always in trouble. If they’re not getting pissed up in the park, then they’re burning the bushes down. They haven’t got a brain in their heads, because then they’re complaining there’s nowhere to hide to shag the girls. No bushes… no shagging. Anyway… have you gone off me? Have you been flashing at another kid to give you crisps?”
I chuckled. Ashton was as sharp as a razor when it came to humour. It’s part of the reason why I adored him. “I don’t flash at kids. Well, I didn’t have to do any flashing to catch the last one. I only asked him for a crisp and I’d hooked him. And stop giggling so much! My dick is getting some stick by that gorgeous bottom of yours.”
Ashton rolled over and locked his arms around my neck, and then grinned into my face while his nose was pressed against mine. He pecked at my lips, and said, “Do you want me to suck you off?”
I grinned at him. “No… I want you to go and play bloody cricket or something.”
He removed one arm from around my neck, reached down, and began to play with me. “I’ve got a bat and two balls here to play with, so why should I go and play bloody cricket with a bunch of tossers?” He grinned an evil grin. “Now I’m going to make you pay big style for waking me up!”
****************************
And he did - after standing on the bed and taking off his boxers while he was doing a sexy dance before he tore mine off - by using his latest craze of sucking and wanking me off until I ejaculated into his mouth and all over his beautiful face. Am I unusual? The sight of your beautiful lover sitting on your thighs with a triumphant grin on his face, legs apart and his dick at full stretch while he rubs your semen all over it, and with his face plastered with your jizz doesn’t turn you on? It does me, and he knew it did. That’s why he squealed and giggled when I grabbed him and threw him onto the bed and attacked his bottom. He didn’t put up much of a fight, and I knew he would have been prepared for this assault. His bottom was as clean as a whistle and smelt like Burberry Aftershave when I sank my tongue deep into him, and he soon gave up the struggle. In fact he hauled himself to his knees and shoved his bottom high in the air so I could be comfortable while I was rimming him. Then the familiar sounds of, “Ummm…ummmmm… ummmmmmm… yesssssssssssss… yessssssssssssssssss… yessssssssssssssssssssssss” echoed around the bedroom as my rimming and his wanking himself off took him to his sexual paradise.
**********************************
I chuckled when I saw the bath was already full with water, and all I needed to do was drain some away and top it up with hot so we could have a bath together. When we got in it and Ashton was snuggled back into me, I asked him, “What time did you get here?”
“At two. I had a bath to get ready for you, and then went to bed. I knew you’d wake me up.”
“I might not have done.”
“And pigs might fly. Wash my face. It’s still sort of sticky with your stuff.”
I soaked the sponge and washed his face, and then got the shampoo and lathered his hair. He was relaxed completely as I worked it into his scalp with my fingers. Then I used a plastic jug to rinse it out, both of us laughing because he was having difficulty breathing. Conditioner then… and I left that on until we’d both washed our bodies completely, and finally we stood up and rinsed ourselves off completely under the shower. Ashton was dried before I was, so he did a sexy dance while I finished off. His dick was hard again. Boys, eh! Then I took him into the bedroom to get my special treat.
I loved dressing him, and especially I loved fitting those tight boxers. He lay on the bed with his legs over the edge as I worked the sandy coloured ones up his legs, and then he stood up while I knelt down to fit them properly. Part of the ritual was that when I’d got them just under his balls, I had to love his dick and bottom for a while before he’d allow me to pull them right up. It was not a task I baulked at. Pressing my face against his dick while I rolled it on his belly sometimes entailed me having to suck him off… but that time it didn’t. (We had a whole night to go.) After I’d done the face/dick ritual, he turned around and allowed me to kiss his gorgeous bottom for a while. No rimming… just kissing, even though I did run my tongue along his bum crack a few times. (Did I tell you that I loved boys’ bottoms? I think I did. I think I would die happily if I was loving Ashton’s bottom.) Then I stood up and spent quite a while fitting his boxers to perfection, even arranging his hard dick sort of upwards and at an angle so it would be comfortable. Then it was time to choose his clothes.
No overnight bags. Wendy had sorted out a load of clothes and they were either in my wardrobe or in the drawers of my dressing table. White ankle socks as he sat on the bed (I made sure he’d dried between his toes), and then mid-brown chinos to go with his sandy coloured boxers, fastened at the waist with a brown leather belt. To finish him off, and because it was a warm evening, I chose a dark brown shirt, and rolled his sleeves back to his elbows so the creases in the folds were perfect. He gave me one of his funny, questioning looks, “Why are we getting all dressed up?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I like to see you dressed up. Anyway, I thought we might go out for a meal somewhere. Are you hungry?”
“McDonald’s?” he asked.
I laughed. “Why not KFC? Or even better, we could find a gay bar and have some fun.”
I was slipping his already fastened yellow necktie over his head when he stared at me, and said, “You’re joking! Right?”
I grinned into his eyes. “I was joking.”
Ashton giggled. “It’s not such a bad idea, though.”
I stared into his eyes. “You’re joking! Right?”
He gave me that naughty grin of his. “You could draw a moustache on me and we could get away with it.”
We both giggled for ages, and then I took him to the full length mirror on the wardrobe, holding him in front of me as stood in front of it. I wrapped my arms around him and we stared into each other’s eyes in the mirror. I kissed his head. “I love you.”
He smiled at me through the mirror. “I know you do. I love you, and when I’m sixteen I’m going to go everywhere with you, and I don’t give a damn what anybody says.”
I kissed his head again. “We should move to Spain. The age of consent there is fifteen.”
Ashton, smiling at me through the mirror, said, “You’re wrong. Thirteen in Spain. Fourteen in Portugal and Italy and lots of other places in Europe. Perhaps we should go live there?”
I kissed his hair. “Clever Clogs.” And then I started to sing, “If I were a rich man, ya ba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dum. All day long I'd fiddle with your bum. If I were a wealthy man.”
And we were both laughing when we left the house and turned right up the street.
**********************************
We’d taken the Shardlow Road out of Alvaston when Ashton asked, “Where are we going?”
“I thought we’d go to The New Inn at Shardlow. It’s a lovely day, and we can sit outside by the canal and have something to eat.”
“But its miles away!”
I laughed at his painful expression. “It’s only about four miles from here. What do you think you’ve got legs for?”
Ashton looked up at me, and grinned. “They were made especially to stop you leaving me. You love my legs. Well, you spend enough time kissing and playing with them, especially at the top of them.”
I laughed, and shook my head. “Does everything have a sexual slant to you?”
“Not everything.”
“What doesn’t then?”
He laughed. “Chicken and chips.”
I chuckled. “Good. Then that’s what we’ll have at The New Inn.”
At The New Inn. We’d taken a table for two outside, right by the canal, and I’d bought drinks (a beer for me and a Coke for Ashton) and we watched the barges on the canal and folks having a good time while we waited for our meal. It arrived, so I ordered new drinks and we ate and drank mostly without speaking. It was a lovely summer evening and we were in a beautiful place, but I could see that Ashton wasn’t as happy as he normally was, so I said to him. “You’re quiet. You okay?”
He looked forlorn. “You’re going to work tomorrow… and I’ve told mum I don’t want to go on holiday.”
I thought about his comments. I wasn’t too happy that I’d be back at work the next day, and I was even more unhappy that he and his ‘family’ were off to Portugal on the 21st August and didn’t get back until 4th September, right at the end of the week I was taking my second holiday of the summer. His going away had been a bone of contention with both of us for a couple of days, but I pretended I thought it was a good idea he should go and spend some time with his ‘family’, and I said I’d be okay, because I could then spend the week fishing while he was gone. Naturally, he came out with the comment: You think more of your bloody fishing than you do of me! I told him I did, and that he would always play second fiddle to my fishing. (I got some cold shoulder for that, and then had to make it up to him in bed.)
I took a drink from my pint, and said, “You must go! It’s paid for and everything. I’ll be here when you get back.”
He looked right at me. “It’s for two weeks! I don’t want to go two weeks without seeing you!”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Neither do I, but I’ll be working the first week you’re away, so we won’t be together for that week even if we wanted to be.”
Again he dropped his head and looked forlorn, so to cheer him up, I said, “You might find a nice Portuguese chap you like.”
Ashton looked daggers at me. “That… is… not… funny!” Then he cocked his head to one side, and said, “How much money have you really got?”
I grinned at him. “About twenty five pounds in cash to pay for this meal.”
He tried to be angry, but couldn’t keep a straight face when he said, “No you dummy! You know what I mean! How much have you got in the bank? And no funny remarks!”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Why do you want to know?”
He looked right into my eyes. “You could come out and stay with us on your week’s holiday. That would mean I would only go a week without seeing you. You only need enough money for the flight because we’re staying in Olga’s mum’s apartment at Praia de Luz. It’s a brilliant place right by the coast with brilliant views along the beaches.”
(Time to chat with you readers again. What my crisp buddy was suggesting had also crossed my mind, but I hadn’t mentioned it because… well, because it was a ‘family’ thing, and also because, even though me and Ashton were now a proper item, I felt I was still not in a position to set agendas regarding him and me and the ‘family’. I mean, we’d only been together properly for about two weeks, even though it was five weeks since we first met by the shops. That was no time for me to intrude on the ‘family’, and some things then were not mine to decide. I was sort of going with the flow. As far as money was concerned, I’d settled all outstanding bills and even managed to save about £5,000, which I’d been planning on using, when I’d added another couple of year’s savings, to use as a deposit on a home of my own. In fact, dad had told me he would lend me some money so I could do it sooner rather than later, but because I’ve always been an independent bugger, I refused. I did earn decent money – about £32,000 a year before stoppages, and because we were going back on full time after my second holiday, and because I was single and didn’t need a fortune to live on, I could save about £8,000 a year. And another matter of fact was that I’d booked driving lessons for the weeks Ashton was away. I wanted it to be a surprise for him when he got back. I wouldn’t have passed my driving test, but it would have been the first steps on making me independent so we could go out to various places if I passed my test and could buy a cheap car. Our association up to that point had been a hodgepodge of taking the bus and walking everywhere.)
So, all these things were in my mind when I replied to Ashton, “Perhaps your mum and Olga wouldn’t want me there? We’ve only known each other for five minutes.”
Ashton snorted. “They won’t want me there when I give them the grumps because I’m not with you! Can you afford the flight?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “How much would it cost?”
(What did I tell you about fifteen and half year old boys? They have their own way of getting their own way, and my reply of how much would it cost? was tantamount to complete submission in my Ashton’s mind.)
Ashton grinned, and took out his phone. I chuckled inwardly, told him to empty his glass, and went to the bar to refill our drinks while he was messing about on his phone. When I returned with another pint of ale and his Coke, the grin he gave me was enough to tell me that it was all over bar the shouting. As soon as I sat down, he pushed the phone into my face, and said, “You can get a flight from East Midlands Airport on Saturday 28th and a return flight the following Saturday, but it won’t be the one we come back on. But I’m not too bothered about that as long as you’re with us all week.”
I took a drink from my pint and looked over the top of the glass at him when I asked, “And how much will that lot cost me?”
My beautiful Ashton! Did I tell you how much I loved him? Maybe you’ll begin to understand how much and why I did when, despite the trials and tribulations of his young life up to then, just what a beautiful person he was when he looked affectionately right into my eyes, and said, “Nothing. I’ve got enough savings to pay for it.”
Honestly, I could have wept. In fact I think my eyes were misty when I smiled at him and said, “Thank you, but there’s no need to do that. How much?”
He hesitated for a moment, and then said, “Two hundred and fifty pounds give and take a few bob.”
I was shocked. Like most people, I was used to hearing how flights were cheap, and some pals of mine had bragged they paid only fifty pounds for a return flight to Spain with Ryanair, but they had been pre-booked weeks in advance, and were off-season, but when we were looking at this particular flight, it was peak holiday time, and looking back, I was actually lucky to get a flight because most charter flights to the Iberian Peninsula would have been fully booked. I got over my initial shock, and smiled at Ashton. “I can afford that, but I’m not sure your mum and Olga would want me there.”
Game over! The moment I said that, Ashton was on the phone again. The conversation, along with plenty of intervals for responses, went something like: Mum, can Tony come with us to Portugal? The second week. He’s off that week and can come with us. He says he doesn’t want to intrude on us but I’ve told him that he won’t be. You know I’m not going to enjoy it if he isn’t with us. Yes… there is a flight. I’ve just looked online. Monarch on Saturday 28th and he returns the same day as us. About two hundred and fifty pounds. Yes, he says he can afford it. I offered to pay for it but he won’t let me. If you go online you can book it now, and Tony will pay you back. Ring me back. The New Inn at Shardlow. We’re sitting outside.
When Ashton broke the call, he grinned at me, and said, “Mum’s talking it over with Olga. She’s ringing me back in a minute or two. Are you half drunk yet?”
I giggled. “No. Why do you ask?”
He gave me that naughty grin of his. “I like it when you’re half drunk.”
“Why?”
He gave me that really sexy look. “Because you’re not embarrassed if I’m being really pervy when you’re half drunk.”
I shook my head in mock disgust. “You’ll get us in trouble with your perving on the beach in Portugal if your mum lets me go with you.”
Ashton gave me a triumphant laugh. “No I won’t! You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?”
“Forgotten what?”
He gave me a smug grin. “The age of consent in Portugal is fourteen.”
I looked right into his laughing eyes. “You’re a clever little bugger when you want something… aren’t you?”
He nodded, and grinned, and giggled. And then he began to describe the apartment and Praia de Luz and all the things we could do together when we got there. He went on and on, and those laughing eyes burned deep into my soul. In fact, I didn’t really hear all he was telling me. I was studying the beautiful young man who had burst into my life and turned it upside down. Looking at him then, with his excited eyes and laughs and grins and exuberance, you would never have thought he had been subjected to sadistic cruelty by his blood father. That was the most amazing thing about my crisp buddy… despite everything, he was probably more normal than most normal boys. In fact, as I looked at him, I realized that he was an extraordinary human being… and my love for him became even stronger. My thoughts were interrupted when his phone rang. I watched him intently as he spoke to his mother, and then he handed the phone to me. “Mum wants a word.”
I took it from him, and spoke to her. “Hello Wendy. Sorry about all this, but he’s driven me mad to get me to go with him.”
I heard Wendy laugh, and then she said, “Don’t worry about it. At least now we’ll only have the teenage grumps from him for one week. I hope you’re not thinking of changing your mind. Olga’s already booked your flight.”
I chuckled. “No, I don’t have much option once he’s made up my mind. Is Olga okay with it?”
“Olga’s the same as him. She can’t stop giggling.”
I laughed. “They’re a pair together, those two. How did you manage alone before I arrived to help you out?”
Wendy chuckled. “With difficulty. But I’d be lost without them.”
(Although conversational, those words had deep meaning to me. Wendy was as much a victim of her husband’s cruelty as Ashton had been. I mean… can you imagine how you would feel if the son you loved had been subjected to such vile things by the man you thought loved you, and who had created your beautiful child with you? Her situation was unimaginable, and every day she had to live with the guilt and deep hurt of not knowing what was happening under her nose. I’d seen the way she looked at me when I was with Ashton, especially when we unashamedly cuddled in her company. There was an element of relief on her face that at the very least, her beloved son had finally found a male who loved him. In her eyes, I was playing a dual role… I was both his lover and father figure, and I’m pretty sure that’s why she accepted the age difference between me and Ashton.)
I chuckled. “Me too. Anyway, thank you for having me, and thanks for booking the flight. Do you want to speak to your lunatic son now?”
Wendy laughed. “Not really, but I suppose I’d better.”
When I gave the phone back to Ashton, I was surprised to hear him say, “Can you order us a taxi and we’ll come and spend a couple of hours with you before we go to Tony’s?” Then there was quite a long pause before he said, “That’s a great idea. There’s a four person table empty just by us. I’ll grab it. See you in about half an hour. Love you.” When I gave him a puzzled look, he grinned, and said, “They’re coming here. We can celebrate together. Let’s get that table before anybody else does.”
Half an hour later there were four of us sitting in the evening sun by the canal with our drinks. I’d sort of taken a back seat and was people watching: ergo I was watching Ashton and Wendy and Olga. It was lovely. In fact, you could cut the happy atmosphere with a knife. I thought my intruding on their holiday might have been a forced thing, done because Ashton was a bugger if he didn’t get his own way, but I soon discovered that my going out to them in Portugal was a shared joy. It seemed that I was a wanted man by all three of them, and so I relaxed and enjoyed the lovely ambience of ‘our family’.
(See what I did there, readers? And now we were four? After just two weeks? Bloody amazing, wasn’t it? And no way could Pederasty for Dummies have foreseen this situation. It would probably have given guidance to don’t rush things and be patient.)
And the ambience was even better when I was five-pints-drunk. No, I wasn’t really drunk, but that was only because I’d eaten a good meal while we were at the pub, and the five pints had taken all evening to dissolve into my system, and don’t forget that five pints of ale going into a bloke who weighs two hundred pounds is far less lethal than if it was going into a smaller being. Nevertheless, I was quite merry when we all piled into the car to go home at ten o’clock. Work in the morning for me, so that meant I had to be up at six-thirty. How Ashton would handle that was a mystery then, but one thing was for sure… no way would his sleepover at my place be an all-nighter.
The girls were laughing when me and Ashton got out of the car at my place, and after Olga had said, “Sweet dreams you two… that’s if you have any time for dreams.”
It got even funnier when we were in the house. He was in a great mood, and a loving and caring one… tactile in so many ways, even making me kiss him a few times, but they were only gentle ones and not passionate ones. I think he was disappointed when I told him he didn’t have to make some sandwiches for me to take to work because I always had a dinner in the works canteen. But he did help me sort out my work things, and placed them on the bedroom chair for when I woke up, and it was he who set my alarm clock for six-thirty. It was like living with a nice wife. LOL.
Ashton the Conqueror! Yes, my stunningly wonderful young man had got all his own way again, and he was in an eager mood to reward me for my acquiescence, even telling me that he didn’t want us to shower before we went to bed. And when we did go to bed, his mood of what had gone previously was still in force, and it was Ashton who was in command. I was told to lie on my back, and then he sat on my thighs, his dick pulsing and at a jaunty angle, precum oozing from his slit as he rubbed his hands all over me, scraping his fingernails along my skin, and then he began to lick me. Looking into my eyes, he began to lick my face, almost growling with passion. He bit my lips, and his kisses were almost brutal. In fact, the thought did go through my mind that a part of his father was in him when he chewed on my nipples so hard that they hurt. But that thought disappeared when he came back up to me, towered over me whilst looking right into my eyes, and said, “God… I love you so much I could eat you.” And for the next half hour that’s exactly what he tried to do, and his domination continued until his gorgeous bottom crushing my dick against my belly brought me to a fantastic climax, and when my spunk spurted up and onto my face, he let out a sex-crazed yell and it took only a few strokes of his own spunk-soaked fingers on his dick to release his pent up passions, and when his semen spurted from him to mix with mine, his head was back at a crazy angle as he gargled his sexual death rattle.
Then we showered, but it was not a sexy shower. It was a sensual one where our bodies pressed against each other and our lips met often as we used our hands to wash each other’s bodies, and as the warm water cleaned away all traces of the creamy shower lotion we’d used to wash ourselves, Ashton’s skin under my hands was like smooth velvet as I stroked and fondled him as he locked his arms around my neck and stood on tiptoes to kiss me throughout the entire experience.
In bed. He was spooned into me when he began to giggle. His mischievousness was infectious, and I was giggling when I asked him, “What’s so funny?”
That set him off even more, and he was literally crying with laughter when he said, “You’re like Shrek.”
I could hardly stop laughing myself as I gurgled, “You cheeky sod! What do you mean?”
Eventually, he managed to say, “You’re massive and cuddly.”
I kissed the top of his head. “And you’re small and beautiful and soft, and Shrek loves you. He always will.”
Ashton stopped laughing, and wriggled himself even closer into me. Then my crisp buddy began to cry. I didn’t ask why he was crying, I just held him tighter and planted oodles of kisses on his head. I knew why he was crying. He was happy. Why? Because a boy needs to feel that somebody can love him without suffocating him. That day I had asked nothing from him, and had given myself completely to him. His needs; his desires; his wiles; his plans… they had all come to fruition. I had spoiled him, and trust me, spoiling the young man you love can be the most rewarding thing in the world. What goes around comes around, and Ashton’s happiness was nectar to my soul.
Not Freddie Mercury this time, but this song by my namesake said it all for me when tears slipped from my own eyes as I struggled to contain my emotions of the very deepest love I had for Ashton. But eventually, the tears ended, and a teary-eyed, smiling Ashton turned his head up for me to kiss him. I smiled back at him, gave him the gentlest, most loving kiss I could, and then we settled down to go to sleep. But we went to sleep giggling when I whispered in his ear, “Bloody Shrek! I’ll give you bloody Shrek… you cheeky little sod!”
(Note to Pederasty for Dummies: Love and humour go hand in hand.)
To be continued…
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