WARNING: This story – a fictional one - contains sex between a minor and an adult. Do not read the contents if it will offend you. If accessing this story causes you to break local laws (village, town, city, county, province, state, or country, etc.), please leave now.

 

Any characters portrayed in this story are fictional and not representative of anyone living or dead.

 

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Anthony Alboran's story – Crisp Buddies.

 

Written by John Teller.

 

Part nine.

 

I looked out of the side window of the aircraft at the sea below me and thought about the week I'd just had. Had it been good? More than that, it had been wonderful from when I arrived until Ashton and his family had put me on the 6am Saturday morning airport shuttle bus that ran along the coast to pick up passengers who wanted to get to Faro Airport. Because theirs was an afternoon flight and mine was a 10.50am flight, we'd decided it would be far easier for them for me to catch a bus rather than them making two journeys to Faro in the hire car, even though the bus journey was an arduous one because it stopped at every major resort along the coast to pick up passengers.

 

Parting is such sweet sorrow. That was certainly true for me and Ashton. Because we'd had such a wonderful week in our own personal paradise, facing the end of it had been emotional. That's why Olga tried to make it a hurried affair. No sooner had we arrived at the bus stop than she was lugging my suitcases out of the car and ushering me onto the waiting bus. Ten minutes later and I would have missed it, and the reason I was late was because Ashton had been unwilling to get out of bed because he was tired. Why was he tired? Because the little bugger insisted we sit by our favourite rock on the beach until midnight, and it was four when we had to get up.

 

*********************************

 

Lover's Rock. That's what he called it. Every night we spent two hours there, talking about many things and loving each other. Not sexually. That we left for the bedroom. No, we talked about what we had been, what we were, and what we would become. Well, because my life to that point had been pretty anonymous, mostly we talked about Ashton when we were discussing the past. I learned many things about the cruel period of his life with his father, and it brought me to tears a number of times. He wouldn't reveal what had happened in minute detail, but the general outline of what he'd been through was sufficient for me to fill in the blanks. A number of times he stopped talking and buried himself into me so that I could hold him. "Then I'll just lie here in your arms where nobody can hurt me." That comment he'd made on the night I couldn't go to sleep echoed in my mind every time he did it. In fact I spoke to Olga about it.

 

Ashton and Wendy had slipped off to the shops just before lunch to stock up on some items we needed, but I stayed with Olga on the patio, drinking a beer that Ashton had poured me before he went off with his mother. And because that was my first drink of the day, I wasn't intoxicated when I looked down at Lover's Rock and recalled what Ashton had told me the previous night. I tried to hide my sadness, but Olga, who was well-versed in emotional upsets, asked, "Has he been telling you about Him?"

 

I had to wipe my eyes with a serviette when I nodded to her. "Yes. Last night." I pointed to Lover's Rock. "Down there. We were there until two this morning." I tried to grin at her. "No, we don't do anything silly. We just talk and listen to music and stuff like that. Last night he told me about the time his father broke his arm." I shrugged my shoulders. "He said he heard it snap."

 

Olga got up and came behind me and wrapped her arms around my neck. "He's going to be fine now he's got you." Then she kissed me on the side of the head. "Thank God you came along. I've prayed for a Tony Alboran to come into his life, but if I'm honest, Tony, I didn't think that Tony Alboran would be the person he is." She pointed towards the beach. "I've seen lots of them out there who think he's so damned cute that they've wanted him ever since he was a nipper. Can't say I blame them. He's a gorgeous little sod when he's got no clothes on. Don't you think?"

 

Despite the seriousness of the situation, that made me chuckle, and I replied, "He's not bad, but that isn't why I love him."

 

"Then why do you love him?"

 

I shrugged my shoulders. "Dunno really. I took one look at the scruffy little bugger dawdling home from school, and just fell in love with him. I think it was his daft grin that did it. It was an honest grin... one that came from inside and not outside. I'm not sure you can understand that."

 

Olga hugged me more tightly. "Of course I understand! Why do you think I fell in love with his mother? What happened to you and Muffin also happened to me and Wendy. We share something, Tony. I think we both think what the hell do they see in us? But maybe you and me have something else in common. We're both loving and caring and compassionate, and that's what those two need... somebody like us to love them. You and me sussed out what's behind their daft grins, and I think they both sussed out the love and compassion overflowing in both of us. Now how about we just get on with it and count our lucky stars every day that we were the chosen ones?" Olga chuckled. "We'll have to cope with their crazy sex drive. I take it Muffin is the same as his mother?"

 

I laughed, and pushed her away. "Bugger off! None of your business!"

 

And we were both still chuckling when Ashton and Wendy got back. Part of the reason I was amused was Olga's oft used term of address regarding Ashton as Muffin. I'd heard it many times before, and when I asked her why she called him that, she laughed and said it was because he was as stubborn as a mule: Muffin the Mule. LOL.

 

***********************************

 

The pilot came on the intercom and told us that we were over the Isle of Wight, and then we would be flying to the west of London before he expected us to land about five minutes early at East Midlands Airport, and that it was fifteen degrees and raining there. I was sitting at the back of the plane and looked out of the window. Sure enough; nothing but clouds to confirm his words. Back to reality: a late summer day in England. A far cry from the glorious weather we had while we were in Praia de Luz. But because the clouds had been with us for a while, it made me chuckle to think that Pierre would also be under them somewhere. Pierre. LOL.

 

************************************

 

On Wednesday, Olga and Wendy went off on their own to spend the day in Lagos. Meeting friends they were, and although they invited us along, Ashton decided he wanted to stay in Praia de Luz because it would give us a chance to be alone. Alone. LOL. The moment they left at ten in the morning he was dragging me to our bedroom. Then we spent a noisy, perverted hour making love properly just as we did at my place. Then he made us rush with our shower because he wanted to try and catch Pierre if he was on the beach. Try as I might, he wouldn't tell me why it was so important, and he was giggling all the time when I threw questions at him.

 

Pierre was on the beach, and because we hadn't taken a load of stuff with us and had sun creamed up before we left the apartment, it was easy for Ashton to find a spot near to where Pierre was with his family. I saw Pierre grin at him, and soon after, Ashton grabbed my hand and dragged me to the sea. We hadn't been in it more than a few minutes when Pierre joined us, and as soon as Ashton saw him, they palled up. Then we became three. Ashton made sure of that when he introduced us. We didn't shake hands or anything like that, but it was a bit awkward. During our perverted lovemaking before we went to the beach, Ashton had used Pierre's name to tease me... suggesting that we pretend both of us were him while we fucked: Ashton was Pierre being fucked by me, and I was Pierre fucking Ashton. (Did I tell you that he was a perverted little sod? But if I'm truly honest with you, I'm not averse to the odd perversion myself when I've got my dick buried up a lovely bum, and because Ashton insisted I could have free reign with my fantasies as long as I didn't tell him about them, at one point during our sexual liaison, I actually did imagine I was fucking the lovely French boy. LOL.) Anyway, Ashton manipulated the situation while we were all cavorting in the sea. Pierre was a clever lad. Although I knew it was my body he wanted, he used Ashton as a conduit to get closer to me. He allowed Ashton to climb onto his back so he could be led to me, and I didn't miss the mischievous grin on my boy's face when he was on Pierre's back and brought us close together. And it was Ashton who manoeuvred us to the next stage: lunch together in a restaurant overlooking the sea. I was left in the sea on my own while Ashton went with Pierre to his parents to get permission for him to join us. He obviously got it, because the next thing that happened was Ashton came dashing to me and said we were to get dressed because we were meeting Pierre by a small beachside café, the Bar Habana.

 

Ashton was Blue Boy again, and because I was tanning up nicely by then, I wore my Cheese and Onion t-shirt and I didn't look like a lobster in it. We ordered nachos; mine with a beer and the boys had fruit drinks. I must admit that I was the odd man out. Although Pierre was a beautiful young man with gorgeous green eyes, and he had a lovely body, and he was obviously gay, I couldn't bring myself to be over familiar with him. Why? It all came back to the hurt Ashton had suffered in his life. In fact, Ashton's past was beginning to have more effect on me than it seemed to have on him. The kinky little sod was quite happy for us to be a threesome, and I reckon he might even have made it sexual if I was prepared to go along with it... but I couldn't do that. So I kept a respectful distance between myself and Pierre and just tried to be happy to please Ashton, and acted like a grown-up chaperoning two kids. But Pierre was a clever lad. He must have sensed that he would get nowhere with me, and to Ashton's disgust, when we parted after the meal, Pierre kept a distance between us. Yes, he joined Ashton in the sea a couple of times later in the holiday, but he pretty much ignored me. However, I did pay a price for my intentional isolation. It led to our first row.

 

Me and Ashton were at Lover's Rock on one of our nightly soirées when he turned to look at me, and said, "You can't protect me from everything, you know!"

 

I didn't know what he was on about, and I was puzzled when I asked him, "What do you mean?"

 

He glared into my eyes. "You think me and you and Pierre all being friends will spoil things between us! It wouldn't bother me if you fucked him! I know you love me, so why does it matter?"

 

I shrugged my shoulders. "It would matter to me. Doesn't that count?"

 

He turned, sat on his haunches facing me, and studied my face for a while. Then he stroked my cheek with his fingers and his voice softened when he said, "Yes it does, but I don't want to be the reason for you not having fun. I'm a burden enough as it is without doing that."

 

I'm afraid I got angry then, and grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled his face right into mine. "Jesus Christ, Ashton, whatever makes you think you're a burden to me?"

 

He pouted his lips. "Because I'm stopping you having fun."

 

My anger slipped away as quickly as it arose. "You're not stopping me having fun. Fun isn't going around fucking every young lad with a nice body. Fun is being here with you. Fun is hearing you laugh when you're happy. The only time I'm not having fun is when I'm not with you. Is this thing of ours stopping you having fun?"

 

He dropped his chin onto his chest, and muttered, "No. I'm frightened of losing you. I thought that if I let you do stuff with Pierre, it would make things better for us."

 

I lifted his chin and saw tears rolling from his eyes, so I put both hands behind his head and drew him to me and kissed his sulking lips. "It wouldn't do that. I'm not a promiscuous person, neither sexually or emotionally. I've only ever loved one person in my life, and that's good enough for me."

 

"But you loved Her."

 

I shook my head. "No, I never loved Her. In fact, until I met you I didn't know what love was. I had sex with her, but it was never loving sex like we have. Pierre would be pretty much like having sex with Her. I just don't need it, so you're not stopping me having fun. In fact, I would probably be the most miserable person on earth after I'd had sex with him. Sorry, but that's how I'm made."

 

"So... you wouldn't not be having sex with Pierre because it would hurt me?"

 

"No. I don't want to do stuff with Pierre because it would hurt me. Besides, even though you thought it might be a bit of fun, it would forever sow seeds of doubt in your mind that if I'd done it once, then I could do it again. If you and me are to be together for a long time, then it's important that we trust each other completely."

 

"Do you want us to be together for a long time?"

 

"Yes. Do you?"

 

Ashton looked right into my eyes. "Yes. But does all this mean that we can't have fun in bed?"

 

"Fun in bed?"

 

Ashton chuckled. "Yes, like we did in bed today. When were both pretending we were doing it with Pierre."

 

I giggled. "I wasn't pretending I was doing it with Pierre."

 

"Liar! Now tell me the truth!"

 

I pulled a silly face. "I tried, but because he's got a bottom nowhere near as nice as yours, it was impossible."

 

Ashton giggled. "So did I, but when you kissed me and I tasted myself in your mouth, I forgot all about him."

 

"Sorry. I wanted you so badly that I should have brushed my teeth after I'd been kissing your bum."

 

More giggles from my boy. "No you daft sod! I didn't mean that! You'd just sucked me off!"

 

"And I'd been kissing your bum."

 

Ashton cocked his head to one side and gave me a puzzled look when he said, "I can't remember that bit."

 

I laughed. "Liar!"

 

That's when Ashton turned around and settled back into me again, and we giggled for a while before he fitted one of his Ipod earphones into my ear and played what he termed, Badass Music, and he was headbanging away in my arms while it was playing. Boys, eh! LOL.

 

********************************

 

"Cabin crew to your seats please."

 

Just as the pilot said that, I watched the flaps on the wing moving and the plane begin to shudder as it was slowing down to land. We were below the clouds when we passed over the M1 motorway, and then the runway was right below us. The plane jolted as it hit the ground, and I had to put a hand on the seat in front of me to steady myself as the plane decelerated rapidly. I was back on home territory, and to be honest, after the wonderful holiday I'd just had, I was depressed, which lasted until nine that night when Ashton let himself in and came into my arms.

 

Pederasty for Dummies. Chapter five; subsection 1V. Even Crisp Buddies cannot function properly after they've gone to bed at midnight; got up at four in the morning; flown a thousand miles in an airplane to get back home; had to trawl through customs with two suitcases and lump them onto a bus to get to Car Park 2 at East Midlands Airport; make the journey back to their home; eat a quick meal, and then have a lift to their lover's house just so they can spend the night in bed with them. That's why, even though Ashton had said we would fuck and make as much noise as we wanted, after we'd both had a cup of cocoa in bed, his eyes began to droop, and so did his dick. And the next thing I knew was that he was asleep in my arms. So I followed him safe in the knowledge that whatever he'd missed out on that night, he would make up for it in the morning.

 

And I was right. But at least I had ten hours rest before he used his morning wood deep in my throat to good effect, and after we'd taken a proper bath together, we went to bed again. (After three scrambled eggs on four pieces of toast that is. Where on earth do fifteen and a half year old boys put it all?!) Perchance to dream? No chance. Ashton was on his back with his knees on his chest and he was still burping on his breakfast while he was yelling, "Fuck meeeee! Fuck meeeeeeeee! Fuck meeeeee Tonyyyyyyyy!" as he wanked some of his own semen onto his belly simultaneously as I was filling him. Then a short respite of loving before we began again. (He'd wrapped his legs around my waist to stop me pulling out of him. Did I tell you that by this time, Princess Fiona loved to be fucked by Shrek? Well he did, and he was becoming something of an expert at using his tummy muscles to stimulate me to great heights when he had me inside him. Not that Shrek was complaining. Princess Fiona had a wonderful, accommodating tunnel of love.) And it was more of the same, but this time he wanted it a bit more basic, like me slamming my dick into him and me actually using his body as if it was sex doll. He had a term for this particular sex act: real fucking time. It was psychological. Maybe a throwback to when his father had been hurting him. He'd learned how to defeat his father by pretending he was being hurt, but in actual fact, once Ashton had got used to the baseball bat being inside him, he was able to take it without too much bother. When we first did real fucking time (reluctantly on my part), I was afraid of what I was doing, but then I realized that it was not me in control... it was Ashton dictating the occasion. That's why I stopped having a hang-up about it. And how did I know Ashton enjoyed it? That was simple. When I climaxed, so did he, without even touching his dick. But we didn't do it every time we had sex. It usually happened after we'd been apart sexually for a couple of days.

 

Because it was Sunday and I had to go to work on Monday and Ashton had to go to school after his six week break, we had dinner at his house that night. So it was back to reality for a while.

 

Well, not quite. Time moved on, and I passed my driving test on 25^th November, which was a Thursday, and on Friday night we went to look at a twelve year old Nissan Micra that a friend of Wendy was selling because she'd had a later model car. £1200 it was, and in good condition and low mileage. Ashton liked the colour: blue. (Blue boy?) It was a bright blue metallic, so that didn't surprise me. Then we went to Ashton's to talk about it. We did the sums and went online for an insurance quote. I was amazed. The insurance company wanted £900 for third party, fire and theft. That put the mockers on it for me, because, as I told you before, I was trying to save up for a deposit to buy my own house. (Did I tell you that? Sorry if I didn't, but I sort of recall telling you how much I'd got in the bank.) Anyway, I explained everything that was whizzing about in my mind to Ashton and Wendy and Olga, and told them that I really couldn't afford it. I could see that Ashton was disappointed, and because we were together on our sofa, I put my arm around his shoulder and said, "Which would you prefer... a runabout car or our own place?"

 

My Crisp Buddy looked up at me, and said grumpily, "Our own place?"

 

I nodded to him. "Yes. When you're old enough, if you still want me, then we'll need a place to live."

 

The place went deathly quiet, and I thought I'd dropped a massive clanger. Then the daft little bugger burst into tears and wrapped himself around me. I didn't know what to do. Was he crying because it was what he wanted too, or was it because I was pushing the agenda between us too quickly?

 

Batman to the rescue again. "I told you that you were getting a Steady Eddy, Muffin, so it's make your mind up time. You'll be sixteen in January, and you'll be old enough to bugger off from here if your mum gives you permission. But I'm not sure if you're mature enough to leave here if you cry over a bloody car."

 

Her words hit a nerve, because Ashton tore himself away from me, glared at Olga, and yelled through his tears, "You don't know anything about me!" Then he got off the sofa and ran out of the room and stomped off to his bedroom.

 

I was shocked; Wendy was shocked, but Olga wasn't. She smiled at me, and said, "Best you go up to him."

 

I must have looked a right dummy when I shrugged my shoulders, and said, "Sorry. What have I done?"

 

Olga half-smiled at me. "Nothing bad I can assure you. Our Muffin is growing up, but I don't think he wants to tear himself away from the safe world he lives in. It will take years, Tony, and you'll have to be patient." Olga hugged Wendy. "Same as this one here. She has to learn how not to blame herself. There's only one person to blame, and he's rotting in jail. But you and me can make them better, and you can start doing your bit now by going up to him. I reckon you two will have a lot to talk about. Go on... go to him."

 

Ashton was lying face down on the bed, still sobbing like mad, so I sat on the edge of the bed and stroked the back of his head and his shoulders. I didn't say anything, and that's because I didn't know what to say. All I could do right then was to be there if he needed me. It took quite a while before he stopped sobbing and turned to look at me through puffed eyes. Then he reached out a hand, grabbed the sleeve of my shirt, and pulled me down beside him. As soon as I was lying by his side, he snuggled into me, and I hugged him. Eventually, I heard him whisper, "I'm sorry."

 

I kissed the top of his head. "Nothing to be sorry about. You're upset and we need to work things out. Am I pushing things too fast for you?"

 

His voice was muffled because his head was buried into my chest. "I'm not sure. I just didn't expect that. I know we've talked about it, but it's different when it's actually happening."

 

Again I kissed the top of his head. "I understand. I'm thinking like an old man, and you're still a young man. You'll have to bear with me. It seems that both of us need more time. We'll have that car and have some fun before we get really serious."

 

Ashton lifted his head from my chest, and looked puzzled. "What does that mean?"

 

I leaned down and kissed his hot lips. "It means that you're not quite sixteen and need more time to be a young man before you become an old sod like me with a mortgage around your neck. So we'll have the car and have some fun." I grinned at him. "We can go fishing on our own then."

 

My comment made Ashton giggle, but he was glaring amusingly at me when he snorted, "So we're going to spend the next five years bloody fishing!"

 

I gave him the raised eyebrows. "Five years! So that's how long you'd got in your mind before we got married?"

 

More tears then, but through a silly grin as he buried himself back into me. Then I heard him say, "I love you so much."

 

It was an hour later when we went back downstairs. (No! We did not have sex!) As soon as Olga saw us, she grinned, and asked, "Well?"

 

I grabbed Ashton around the neck in a headlock. "We're having the car. You're stuck with him for now I'm afraid."

 

I think Olga almost cried when I said that, because her eyes were misty when she said, "That's exactly what I've just told Wendy should happen. You two need to have some fun for a while. Never mind bloody houses. You save what you can, and then we'll help you out when the time comes. We'll get you a mansion as far away from here as possible so we can have some time to ourselves. Looking after you two is like looking after two kids. By the way, how much time have you got off at Christmas?"

 

"Two weeks. Why?"

 

Wendy giggled. "She says we're going to the apartment for Christmas."

 

Ashton slipped out the armlock. "Really!"

 

Olga laughed. "Unless you want to spend it alone with Steady Eddy here? I don't mind if you do. Two weeks away from you will do me the world of good."

 

Ashton laughed. "You've got no bloody chance!" He turned to me and cocked his head to one side. "Well?"

 

I laughed. "Only if you pay my air fare. I'm saving up for a house... you know."

 

And the crisis was over. But I learned a valuable lesson that day which should be in Pederasty for Dummies. Leave your boy to be a boy for as long as possible. He's only a boy once, and as sure as God made little apples, you'll miss that boy when he becomes a man and wants to do adult things. That's if you last that long. Many a slip twixt cup and lip. And I was yet to discover if me and my Crisp Buddy would stay the course. Most don't. In fact, most don't get beyond the first twelve months. Think on it.

 

Crispy. That's what Ashton called `our' car, and it was one of the best things I ever bought. It gave us freedom to be ourselves; freedom to go where we liked without relying on public transport or a lift from his mother or Olga. It also had another very important role to play in what we were: he could stay at my place every night if he wanted to, because all he had to do was get up with me when it was time to go to work, and I would drop him off at home so he could prepare for school. No, I never took him directly to school from my place. Far too risky, and I didn't want any of his peers finding out about us.

 

So we entered a new phase in our relationship, one of really doing what we wanted. We did actually go fishing in Crispy, but not too often. Although Ashton had enjoyed that first time, he never really took to fishing, so I used to go on my own mostly, which gave us space to be apart at times. And that's important.

 

Pederasty for Dummies: don't stifle your boy, and always remember that you need time away from him, too. You'll pay a price if you're apart too long... he'll practically rape you if you leave it longer than three days. That's nice, but if you're an old man, it can take a heavy toll on your psyche when you begin to realize you're not the Rasputin you thought you were. Be warned! But being apart has another benefit if you leave out the sex bit. You've not seen your boy for three days, and when you do, you fall in love all over again as soon as you see how beautiful he is. And again you'll wonder what the hell he sees in you. But don't worry too much about the latter. Trust me, he wouldn't grin and kiss you and love you if he didn't think you were the best thing since sliced bread was invented. That really is the most difficult part of what goes on... wondering why you're so special that a young man twelve years younger than you can find you so attractive that he'd get inside you if he could. Well, unless you're up your own arse, that is. For most of us, it's something you never get used to.

 

Mablethorpe in Crispy. You'll think I'm kidding, readers, when I tell you this tale, but it's as true as I'm sitting here, and I know the exact date because I've just looked in the drawer and checked the date the policeman gave me a ticket for not paying a parking ticket. Saturday 18^th December 2010. £60.00. £30.00 if paid within fifteen days.

 

We'd spent Friday night at my house, and when we got up on Saturday morning, it was lashing down with rain. We had cornflakes and toast, and while we were eating, Ashton was moaning because I hadn't got an Xbox at my place where he could go online and play games with his pals. I didn't take a lot of notice. He did it regularly. Nor did I even hint that the matter would be rectified because that's what I'd bought him for Christmas. So he looked out of the window, and said, "I'm bored."

 

"So what do you want to do? And before you say it... no... I'm not going back to bed!"

 

He giggled. "Let's go to Mablethorpe."

 

"Mablethorpe?! In this weather?! Are you crazy?!"

 

He had that delightfully naughty grin on his face that got deep inside me when he said, "It will be fun! Don't be a boring old fart. We can stop at a Little Chef and have an American Breakfast."

 

"I've never been to Mablethorpe. What's it like?"

 

"Dunno. Some of my mates at school go there for their holidays, and they say it's great."

 

"But that's in summertime. It's the middle of bloody winter... and just look outside! It's pissing down."

 

Ashton chuckled. "They say that Mablethorpe is a strange place. When it's raining everywhere else, it's nice there." Then he put on his best pleading voice. "Come on! It will be fun, and we can have a walk along the beach by the seaside."

 

"We'll be by the seaside next week just in case you've forgotten... at the apartment." I giggled. "Why don't we stay in this morning and go out this afternoon to get those new underpants I promised you?"

 

He pointed a finger at me. "I'm not wearing bloody Mickey Mouse underpants for you or anybody else, you kinky sod! I always said you were a pedo."

 

I laughed. It was a standing joke with us that he would call me a pedo, and I would agree with him. We had lots of perverted fun in bed with it. LOL. I shrugged my shoulders. "I've seen a lovely little boy by the shops who would wear them for me."

 

"Was he eating crisps?"

 

"No."

 

"Then he's no use to you. Come on! I'll ring mum and tell her we're going."

 

(To cut a long story short, we did go, and we had an American Breakfast in a Little Chef on the ring road around Lincoln, and we did, eventually, get to Mablethorpe.)

 

I drove onto a massive, deserted car park by some dunes overlooking the sea, but we couldn't see the sea because it was lashing down with rain. Ashton hadn't been able to stop giggling as he listened to his CD's when we making our way there, because far from being a strange place where: When it's raining everywhere else, it's nice there, it's no different than anywhere else when the weather forecast says the East Coast is directly under a deep depression and will have heavy rain all day.

 

When I stopped the car, I looked at Ashton, and asked, "Well?"

 

He giggled. "It's better than buying Mickey Mouse underpants." He looked around. Then he undid his jeans, got his hard dick out, grinned at me, and said, "You can suck me off.

 

I laughed at him. "No chance! You know what Olga said! Your place or mine... and that's it! Put it away!"

 

He pulled a face. "Look around you! Nobody will see us! Nobody would be daft enough to come here!"

 

I chuckled. "Except us. Put it away!"

 

He put on a hurt look, placed a hand behind my head, and pulled on it to get me to go down on him. Then his pleading voice, "Come onnnnn! It will be fun. We've never done it outside." More pressure on my head. "Come onnnn! I've been hard for an hour. We haven't done it since this morning." He pulled the lever at the side of the seat and the back of the seat folded down. Then he slipped his jeans to his knees, pulled his t-shirt up his body, and began to roll his foreskin on and off his pink knob, before again putting a hand behind my head, and this time he pulled really hard when he said, "Come onnnn! Please!"

 

We were facing the sea, so I decided to turn the car around so we would see if anybody came onto the car park, and then I allowed myself to do Ashton's bidding. Well, I didn't take much persuading, especially when he lifted his bottom so I could get a hand under him to grasp that gorgeous part of him. (Did I tell you that I loved his bottom? It was a magnetic bottom to me. I adored and worshipped it as much as the Egyptians worshipped Ra, their Sun God.) So I soon had a finger inserted into Ra, and in less than five minutes I was swallowing Ashton's creamy offering, which went down very well after an American Breakfast. Then he pulled his jeans up and straightened himself out, put his seat back up, grinned at me, and said, "You pervert!"

 

I was about to laugh when I saw a police car driving slowly up the ramp to the car park about fifty yards away. I was petrified! (Well, readers, how would you be feeling if you were sitting on a deserted car park in the rain with an underage boy in your car who you'd just given a blow job to, and the police arrived?!)

 

It pulled alongside, and two policemen stared through their side window at us. Then the one nearest to us dropped his window, and indicated that I should do the same. As soon as I had, he called across to me, "What are you doing here?"

 

What could I say? I wasn't about to tell him that I'd just committed an act of gross indecency with an almost sixteen year old boy, so I said the first thing that came into my head, "We've come for a run out to the seaside."

 

He looked at me as if I was crazy, and then said, "Niiiice! Are you enjoying it? I'm surprised you haven't gone swimming. Have you got any identification on you? Both of you!"

 

I looked at Ashton. "Have you got anything?" (Believe me, readers; the little bugger was actually grinning!)

 

"I've got my debit card in my wallet. Will that do?" he asked.

 

I looked at the policeman. "He's got his debit card, and I've got quite a few things in my wallet."

 

He jerked a thumb at us. "Get in the back of the car!"  

 

(In the back of the police car.)

 

Questions. Lots of them. What are your names? Does the car belong to you? What relationship are you?

 

(I told him I was a family friend and we'd decided to go to Mablethorpe because Ashton was bored.)

 

Do your parents know you're here?

 

That was to Ashton. That was the first mistake the policeman made. Ashton snarled at him, and said, "My mum does. My dad doesn't! He's in jail serving sixteen years for abusing me, and I hope he rots in hell!"  

 

It went sort of uphill and downhill from there. Anyway, to cut a long story short again, after checking my identification, using their computer in the patrol car to verify the car was all legal and above board; and after ringing Wendy to confirm that she knew where Ashton was and who he was with, the bastards gave me a parking ticket because I hadn't paid to park on the car park. (I know... you couldn't make it up, could you? The middle of winter; we were the only silly buggers there, and he hands out a fucking car parking ticket!) That was the second mistake. It really pissed my Crisp Buddy off. He snarled at the policeman who gave me the ticket, and said, "What have we got that for? It's pissing down with rain, we didn't even see the bloody parking machine, there's not a soul in sight, and you've got nothing better to do than give out bloody parking tickets! Where were you when I needed you? Open the damned door and let us out of here! You make me sick you bloody lot do! You'd probably have given him who's in jail a parking ticket while he was breaking my fucking arms for the fun of it!"  

 

I had to grab him then and hug him to me before something went really wrong. "It's okay. Shhhh. Come on, let's go."

 

Ashton sulked, and even cried in anger at times when we were driving home. I could see the other side of what had happened. The police were just doing their job. Not the parking ticket thing. That was just the nature of one of the officers. He probably lived with a whore of a wife and took out his pettiness on others. That had been completely unjustified, and things like that get all policemen a bad name. My affair with Ashton was a loving, mutual one, but at that car park, it might have been someone who really was abusing a young boy. Swings and roundabouts. Anyway, I learned a valuable lesson that day... Olga was right. Either at Ashton's place or mine, or in Praia de Luz at the apartment where we wouldn't be breaking any laws. That's how I managed to cheer Ashton up before we got home. I told him I was going to fuck him by our Lover's Rock even if it killed me. He made me laugh then. He told me that it was going to happen sooner, because as soon as we got to my place, he intended getting our £60 worth by us fucking all night so `I can get my own back on that fucking copper!'.

 

We never went to Mablethorpe in Crispy again, but we often laughed about it afterwards. LOL.  

 

To be continued... 

 

You can find my other stories on Nifty here. If you wish to comment on this or any of my other stories, just drop me a line to JTST449@gmail.com Genuine comments will be appreciated. All flames will be extinguished in the trash bin.