Date: Fri, 24 Feb 2006 17:56:41 +0000 (GMT) From: Veneration Subject: Empty vessel part 3 Any comments are welcome. Your feedback is much appreciated. Send to veneration2003@yahoo.co.uk EMPTY VESSEL BY VENERATION PART 3 CHAPTER 12 The two friends amble along the dingy street, school uniforms scruffy and in disarray with loosened ties, shirts hanging out and socks around ankles. Red brick row houses line the street, rubbish and shards of broken bottles litter the footpaths and gutters. Many of the parked cares are battered and rusty, with the occasional abandoned wreck long past road-worthiness. The boys take two steps off the footpath, past the overgrown pocket-handkerchief garden and onto the doorstep. Trevor takes his key out of his pocket and opens the door. They step inside and Sam slams the door behind them. A dim passage stretches away from the front door and narrow stairs cling to the right hand wall. The walls are lined with old, faded wallpaper that is scuffed and torn near the floor. The grimy brown lino is cracked and lifting. The stale smells of fat, fish and overcooked cabbage compete for attention. The friends clatter up the stairs and into Trevor's bedroom. His bedroom is a haven from the world outside. Posters of footballers, rock bands, motor bikes, racing cars, and other aspirations of masculinity, hide most of the walls. A cheap ghetto blaster sits on the desk. Discarded clothes are strewn on the floor, like scum left on a beach by an ebbing wave. The air is a fug of teen boy and unwashed clothes that repels any threat of fresh air from entering the room. Trevor relaxes as the unnoticed scent signals to his subconscious that he has returned to his lair. School bags are dropped by the door and Trevor starts a tape playing on the gheto blaster. He and Sam lounge on the narrow unmade bed as they chat about the day and the weekend. "So, where were yer, Frid'y?" Trevor asks. Sam hesitates. He hasn't said anything to Trevor about his first visit to Roger, partly because he had needed to get over the emotional storm that had arisen, and partly because he didn't know how to explain why he would want to visit him. But now after the return visit, and because he already looks forward to seeing Roger again, and because he isn't used to keeping secrets from his best friend, it is time to come clean. "I stayed over at Roger's," he admits. Trevor looks puzzled. "Who? You don' mean the old geezer lives on Longwood?" "Yeah. An' I stayed the weekend before." Trevor looks at his friend in surprise. "Why?" Sam shrugs. "Jus' wanted ta get away from home fer a while." "But he's a fag." Trevor pauses. "He din't try anythin', did he?" "Nah." "But wot if he had?" Sam shrugs. "Well?" Trevor demands. "Dunno, wouldn't mind." Trevor is shocked, as that's the last thing he would expect his friend to say. "But that's queer." Sam is almost as surprised as his friend at what he has just said, as he hasn't ever thought of having sex with Roger or any other bloke. But having said it, he realises that in truth he wouldn't mind. "Nah," he replies, "it's just sex. I get so horny, I gotta get some sex sometime, don' you?" "I get lotsa sex" Trevor asserts. "I meant with someone else, wanker." Trevor grins. "Well, yeah, but that's what girls are for." "Oh, sure," Sam replies, "but they don' put out. I mean how many girls have you dun it with?" "Lots." "Bullshit. You ain't done it with nobody, yer woulda bragged about it if ya had." "Well, maybe," Trevor admits. "Anyhow, the only girls who would do kids like us would be real slags who're prob'ly diseased," Sam says. "Wouldn't want to touch 'em with a barge pole, let alone my dick. So you can stay a virgin 'til yore grown up if ya want, but I gotta have sex now an' it makes no diff'rence to me if it's a guy or not." "Fat Freddie?" Trevor asks, archly. "Yeech." Sam screws up his face. "I mean someone who ain't disgusting." The thought of Sam having sex makes Trevor's heart beat a little faster. "Yeah, but Roger's old. If youse that desperate, I'll mess with ya, just as a favour, mind." "Nah, why would I want to do that? Yore just a kid like me, ya don' know nuffink. Now, Rog, I bet he knows what to do. 'Sides, he's not that old, not like he's gross or somethin', an' anyways I likes him." "Yeah, he's cool," Trevor admits. He adjusts his cock, that has become unaccountably tangled in his boxers. "But ya know, I don' think he'll make a pass at you. I don' think he's like that." Sam considers that. "Yeah, I think yer right." "So if yore lookin' for sex, you'll have ta make a pass at him." Trevor grins at the thought. "Yeah." There is an awkward silence as San and Trevor think about what they have just said to each other. They realise that they have just been alarmingly honest. In their society, anyone who reveals any vulnerability simply makes a target that can and is used to attack him. Sam realises that he has just admitted that he is prepared to have sex with a man. As for Trevor's suggestion, he dismisses it. Why would he want to fool about with Trev, they are mates. Trevor realises that he has just offered to have sex with his friend, which is pretty faggy and not something that red-blooded males do. He thinks about his offer. Trevor has seen Sam naked many times in the changing room at the swimming baths and thought nothing of it. But this new thought of doing stuff with him is disturbing and oddly exciting. The two boys look at each other and grin, slightly shame-faced. After all, they are best friends and have always been able to trust each other in the past. As for their conversation, so what, it's just pushing the boundaries of behaviour and that's what they like do. "So, yer gonna take it up the arse then, are ya?" Trevor slyly asks. "Fuck off, cunt," Sam retorts as he throws a punch at his friend. Trevor catches Sam's arm and they begin to wrestle. ********* The two boys lie on the floor, where they have ended up after their play-fight, panting from their exertions and laughing from the pleasure of their friendship. They are completely oblivious to the fact that they are lying loosely in each other's arms and have just spent 15 minutes in intimate contact. Wrestling is, after all, a manly activity. And if both youths' dicks are semi-hard, what of it? Teenage boy and a little friction, however innocent, is a guaranteed boner recipe. Sam and Trevor hear the front door slam. "Are yer home then, Trev?" the voice bounces up the stairs and through the partially open bedroom door. "Yeah, Ma," Trevor shouts. "And yer would be on your own then, would ya?" "No, Ma, Sam's here," Trevor yells. "Well, he cain't stay long, then. Tea's not too long and youse got yer homework, which I warrant you ain't done yet." Trevor looks over at his friend with a sigh and rolls his eyes. " 'S OK, Trev," Sam says as he sits up. "I'se gotta go anyhow." Then, with a 'Tomorra, Sam' and a 'See ya, mate,' Sam makes his way down the stairs, braves the basilisk glare of Trevor's mum, and escapes out the front door. . o O 0 O o . CHAPTER 13 Roger stands between two rows of bookshelves, replenishing the shelves with the latest consignment of books, when he hears the sound of the bell above the door. He makes no move to attend to the customer as he knows that Charlie is at the counter. "Yeah, can I help?" he hears Charlie ask in an offhand manner. "Um, . . . no?" Roger thinks he recognises the young hesitant voice and he walks from between the shelves towards the counter. "Hello, Zack," he greets the boy. Zack turns and smiles. "Oh, hi, . . um . . ." "So, you've forgotten my name already," Roger asks with a frown. "Or perhaps you think my name is Um, son of Ugh." Zack laughs at being teased. "No, of course I haven't forgotten, Roger. It's just that I'm not used to calling . . . um . . . gownups by their first name." " 'Um . . . grownups?' Is that code for 'old'? What a rude little boy you are," Roger grumbles, then winks at the lad. "Oh, I would never actually say that, . . . out loud," Zack replies with a laugh. Charlie gives Roger a sly grin and walks towards the back of the shop. He knows when he's not needed and not wanted. "Well, it's very nice to see you again, Zack." The young teen smiles shyly. "I got 'The Hobbit' out of the library. I loved it, I thought it was wicked," he says. "I hoped you would, it's a good read," Roger replies. "What about 'The Lord of the Rings'?" "The first book is out of the library, so I put it on reserve. But I really liked 'The Hobbit', so I thought that while I was waiting I would read something else. I was wond'ring if you could suggest a good book to buy?" Zack asks. "I can certainly do that. Do you have a preference for Fantasy or Science Fiction?" Zack wrinkles his brow. "Um, . . . dunno?" "It's an unfair question I suppose. After all, you did ask for my advice because you don't know what you might like," Roger says. The boy grins. "Yeah." "Hmmm, it's difficult, there are so many good choices." Roger scratches his head, inspects the floor, gazes at the ceiling, scans his eyes from the A shelves to the Z shelves. Zack stands quietly, contentedly, happy to leave the decision-making to Roger. Tolkein has introduced him to a new world, that promises continuing excitement for the future. While he had passed Yardley's bookshop many times over the years, it had never really sunk in that there could be a whole shop filled with Science Fiction and Fantasy worth exploring. Zack is happy to have Roger as a guide, who is friendly, seems pretty cool, and is kinda good-looking. "Perhaps you could try Roger Zelazny," Roger finally suggests. "He's very easy to read and writes a mixture of Sci Fi and Fantasy, sometimes in the same book. You are probably best not to worry too much about the difference between the two genres, just find books that you like. Let's see, I think 'Jack of Shadows' is a good book to start with." "That sounds good to me," Zack agrees. "Um, . . . is it in the public library?" Roger smiles. "Probably." Zack grins. "Nah, I'll think I'll buy it." Roger and Zachary go through the standard business of a book purchase and the youth goes on his way, package in hand. Roger glances over at the white ghost, who has materialised by one of the bookshelves. Andrew Yardley raises his eyebrows at the sight of Zack actually buying a book, but Roger just smiles and returns to placing the new books on the shelves. . o O 0 O o . CHAPTER 14 Roger walks along Longwood Street, supermarket bags in hand. The weather is cool, overcast, and with a hint of a light drizzle. As he approaches his apartment building, he sees three figures sitting on the door step. "Hello boys," Roger greets them. The boys scramble to their feet. "Jeez, Wayne, are yer allas out?" Sam complains, but he grins as he speaks. "Help ya wid yor bags? It's such a long way to yer place." Trevor laughs as he grabs shopping bags to give to Sam and Bill, keeping one for himself. Bill, with uncombed hair and a dirt smudge on his cheek, looks up at Roger with a big gap-toothed smile. Roger leads the boys up the stairs and into his apartment, where they load the bags on the kitchen bench. As soon as his hands are free, Bill wrestles out of his over-sized ragged red T-shirt, that was handed down from his brother, and drops it on the floor. He removes his unlaced trainers with toes against heels, one by one, and leaves them where they lie, and pulls down his grubby grey shorts. Bill steps out of his pants and stands with a triumphant grin, clad only in his droopy briefs. Roger admires the performance, but doesn't think much of the pile of clothes in the kitchen. "Why don't you take your clothes into the other room, they're in the way there," he instructs the lad. " 'Kay." "Hey, we saw that pansy, Zack, from school, come outta yor shop the udder day," Sam says. "Oh? Why do you call him a pansy?" "Well, he's a real wuss. Anyone can push him around at school, I bet even the girls. He's allas gettin' trashed in the playground," Sam explains. "Yeah, an' he's such a teacher's pet," Trevor adds. "He never gets into trouble in class, an' he always answers the teacher's questions, an' dus his homework, an' stuff. He's pathetic." "He sounds like a nice, intelligent, well-behaved boy to me," Roger says. "Which is what he was like in the shop. He was polite and friendly and I liked him. But this doesn't mean that he's gay. And pansy is not a very nice label, we prefer gay. Zack is much nicer than you two boys and it wouldn't hurt if you were a bit more like him." There is an awkward silence as Roger turns away and starts to unpack the groceries. "Yeah, well, whatever," Sam mutters. Trevor looks for some way to change the subject. "So, what's new wid ya, Rog, anyhow?" "Oh? Well, I did buy myself a computer last week." "Cool. Does it have any games?" Trevor asks. "Yes, it came with a few very basic games" Roger replies. "Wicked. We can . . . ." Trevor pauses. "Um, Roger, is it OK if we can have a go on the 'puter?" Roger looks over at Trevor, who has a pleading look on his face. "Yes, that will be alright. Why don't you boys go ahead." With a 'primo' and a 'choice', the boys scamper out of the room. Roger shakes his head and smiles ruefully as he continues to unpack. He already knows that the teens are rascals, so he shouldn't expect anything else of them. Roger finishes in the kitchen, enters the livingroom and relaxes on a sofa. He can hear the boys talking and laughing in the study. He senses a movement out of the corner of his eye and turns his head to see Bill standing in the room, stark naked, wearing only a small, tentative smile. Roger smiles at the boy. On seeing this, Bill's grin widens. "Too hot," he explains. Bill walks towards the TV, his willy waggling as he moves. He bends over to turn on the TV and select the correct channel, and Roger gets a good look at his narrow, tight bum. Bill turns towards the sofa and clambers onto Roger, where he settles himself comfortably in the man's lap as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do, and starts watching the TV. Roger looks over the boy's shoulder at his family jewels. He is completely hairless, with a good-sized dick for a boy his age, and a tight foreskin that extends past his dickhead. Bill's balls are starting to grow and fill out his scrotum. Roger wonders what to do with his hands, with a naked boy on his lap. He lightly lays them on Bill's thighs. Bill takes Roger's hands and lays them squarely on his prick. Roger feels the warm little package cupped in the palm of his hand and gently massages it, just a little. Then, what is inevitable, when a hand fondles a boy's willy, happens and Roger feels the worm begin to squirm and stiffen. Roger hurriedly removes his hands and man and boy both inspect the sturdy spike that juts into the air, foreskin still just covering the head. Roger thinks it looks cute, but is unsure what to do or say. Bill grasps Roger's hands, places them back onto his stiffie and gives them a little pat. He relaxes back onto Roger, head against his chest. Bill gives a satisfied little sigh as he watches TV and enjoys the feel of Roger's hands on his willy. Roger takes that as permission to massage the boy's hard dick. His own cock is rock hard and rather painfully caught up in his pants, and he hopes that Bill doesn't notice the lump under his bum. Sam wanders past, on his way to the kitchen for a glass of water, and gives Roger an evil grin. Roger blushes at being caught, but can't remove his hands as Sam would then see that he has been fondling Bill's erection. "Havin' fun?" Sam asks, slyly. " Bill's a real little nuddie, 'cept Mum wont allow it. If ya let Bill get away with it, he'll allas be naked." "Oh, that's fine with me," Roger replies. "Is that OK with you Bill?" Bill glances up at Roger. "Yeah." The TV programme finishes and Bill climbs off Roger's lap and wanders off to see what Sam and Trevor are up to, his disregarded hard-on rapidly wilting. It's as if Bill is unaware that there is anything that can be done with a stiffie. Although Bill is aware of the basic facts of sex, he has not yet made the connection between his own dick and sex. Just as small boys fiddle with their willies for the comfort, with no sexual awareness or intent, so Bill enjoyed the simple comfort of being in Roger's arms and having his prick fondled. Roger, however, is neither young nor innocent. He has been in a sexual haze, with no memory of the programme that has just played on TV. His only thoughts have been of the naked boy in his lap and the little package in his hands. His erection is almost painfully hard and his balls ache for release. For the first time since the boys have started visiting, he can hardly wait for them to leave so that he can jerk off. Eventually the three boys leave, happy with the enjoyable afternoon and the one pound tip each from Roger in their pockets. 'At last,' Roger thinks as he hurriedly pulls down his pants, wincing as his hard-on gets caught in his boxers. He carefully pulls the waistband away from his cock, steps out of trousers and daks, and sits on the sofa. Roger spreads his knees, his heavy balls rest on the sofa, his rigid cock with red engorged head quivers as it strains for release. Roger cups his balls with one hand, fingering the undersides, and with the other hand he grasps his erection and slowly begins to stroke. Roger closes his eyes as he remembers the experience of the naked boy on his lap. Bill's naked butt had pressed on Roger's hard-on, and every time the boy had shifted or moved a little, the man had almost come in his pants. Roger remembers the feel of Bill's package in his hands, soft yet rigid, squishy yet firm. The boy's balls were marbles that he explored and rolled around in their little purse. His dick was a firm little rod that twitched and throbbed as Roger massaged it and rolled its foreskin back from the head. Even the sight of Bill's naked belly and thighs and Roger's large hands firmly planted in the boy's crotch had been entrancing. Then with a groan and a shudder, Roger shoots. He opens his eyes and looks down at the spurt of spunk on his belly, pooled on his hand and wrist, and dripping into his pubes. 'What a mess,' Roger thinks. He licks most of the slimy deposit off his hand and heads off to the bathroom to clean up. . o O 0 O o . CHAPTER 15 It is the last week of school and the atmosphere is more than usually restless. There is the anticipation of the coming summer holidays, combined with the impatience of having to endure one more week of school. The teachers have given up on trying to teach anything new, but instead are just attempting to keep their classes under control. The school playground is lined with brick buildings and walls, grimy from decades of air pollution and neglect. The asphalt ground is patched, with still more holes that need filling. In spite of the teachers' best efforts, rubbish litters the ground. It is lunchtime and the playground is crowded, with each tribe keeping to their separate territories. The boys are segregated from the girls. While the older children are starting to discover that the opposite sex is becoming more interesting than they would ever have imagined, and are starting to throw glances over at the other species, they are not yet ready to cross that enormous divide in public. The younger children keep a wary eye on the older, meaner, more aggressive pupils. One of their earliest and most important lessons at school was to keep a distance from the big kids, who are so much larger and more threatening. The tribes that are playing games, vigorous and careless, dominate the middle of the playground. These separate swirling groups of kids occasionally bump into one another and, with curses and shoves, separate again. Everyone avoids the toughest, meanest kids with the worst reputations who lurk in the corners like sharks, with younger aspiring hoodlums in admiring attendance, like pilot fish. The timid and the weak try to be as inconspicuous as possible, while they wait until they can scurry back to the safety of the classrooms. Sam and Trevor thread their way through the crowds, looking for a quiet corner to talk. They are not the hardest of the boys at school and are not part of any gang, but they are amongst the oldest and largest and are not to be messed with, as they are able and prepared to fight if necessary. As long as they don't bother the bullies and the gangs, they are left alone. Trevor nudges his friend. "Hey, there's Fat Freddie and Gormless Greg beating up on zit-faced Zack." He laughs as he points to a doorway, away from the general view of the playground, where two figures loom over a smaller one. Sam looks towards the figures and thinks for a moment. "Yeah. Let's go sort 'em out." "Why?" "Why not? It's summat ta do. Anyhow, they's pricks an' it'll be fun to piss them off." Sam is not sure that he wants to admit, even to himself, that Roger's comments about Zack has had an effect. Trevor shrugs as he follows Sam. "Hey, pig-face, what the fuck are ya doin'?" Sam demands. "Leave him alone, why don' cha," Fat Freddie turns his head to look at the approaching teens. His hands grasp the front of Zack's shirt and he has the youth pushed against the door. His eyes squint between rolls of fat, his coarse crew-cut hair sticks up like pig bristles, and sweat beads his face. "Fuck off, Sam," he retorts. "What's it to you anyways, arsehole?" "Don't care meself," Sam replies. "But Zack's a wimp anyone could trash, even me kid bruvver. It's boring beating him up, an' only rats' arses like youse would think it's worth the effort. But yer shit-on-a-stick an' smashing yor ugly face in, now that'd be worth doin'." Fat Freddie releases his victim with a push against the door and turns to face the threat. His hands close into fists and he glances towards Gormless Greg for support. An angry rash of pimples flourishes on Greg's sunken cheeks, his black hair is greasy and the vacant look in his eyes hints that he is the muscle in a team that is rather under-endowed in brains. Gormless Greg starts to move to support his friend, but hesitates nervously when Trevor moves towards him. "Well, come on, fuckwits" Sam taunts. "Ain't got all day to beat the crap outa ya. Lunch'll be over soon." He smiles dangerously at the pair of bullies in front of him and spreads his arms slightly in invitation for them to have a go at him. Fat Freddie screws up his mouth in distaste at the thought of a real fight, with no advantages in numbers or surprise. His larger size is not enough, not against Sam. "Fuck it all," he says. "I don't care, ain't got no time for any of this shit." Fat Freddie pushes past Sam and Trevor, Gormless Greg trailing in his wake. "Yer a crazy bastard," he shouts over his shoulder as he walks away. "Don't wan' to have nuffink to do wit' ya." Sam and Trevor grin at each other triumphantly. "They're such dickless dickheads," Trevor laughs. Zack looks warily at the pair before him. He knows Sam and Trevor's reputations and generally tries to avoid them, and wonders what they are up to now. "Um, thanks," he says. "Er, . . . why did you help me, anyway?" "Why not?" Sam replies with a shrug. "Anyhow, Roger says yer a cool dude. Who knows, he might even be right." "Roger?" "Yer know, Roger from Yardley's bookshop." Sam says. "You know Roger?" Zack is bewildered that there should be a connection between some of the rough elements of his school and the world of books and Sci Fi. "Shure we do, we visit alla time," Trevor says. "At the bookshop?" "Well, no, not likely," Trevor replies. "At his home." "Why don' cha come visit wid us some time?" Sam suggests. Trevor and Zack both look at Sam in surprise. This is about the last thing either would have expected to hear. "Why not?" Sam continues. "It'd be cool." Poor Sam, he's starting to come under Roger's influence and is starting to develop a little empathy. Sam begins to think that if Roger approves of Zack, he might even be worth knowing. "Yeah, if yore not too scared to, that is, seein' as he's a poofter 'n all." Trevor grins slyly, then with a glance at Sam the two friends walk away. The school bell signals the end of lunch and as Zack returns to his classroom, he thinks about Roger, who is the first gay man he has met, at least as far as Zack knows. 'I never would have guessed,' Zack thinks. 'He looks so normal, kind of distinguished and handsome, even.' Zack's heart starts to pound and he springs a stiffie, to his embarrassment as sporting wood at school is not something he wants noticed. . o O 0 O o . CHAPTER 16 Roger and Sam relax on a sofa in the livingroom, in what has quickly become a cosy and domestic routine of quiet evening, supper, sleep and a session of meditation in the morning. As the routine doesn't change, it's not interesting, yet they are not interested in changing the pattern. The routine is not boring, but is eagerly anticipated and valued because it provides the security of knowing what to expect. Sam has only slept in Roger's bed once. The boy knows that he can sleep with Roger whenever he feels the need, and with that reassurance he has chosen to stay in his own room. Sam senses that returning to Roger's bed could lead their relationship in unknown directions and he hesitates to make that change. But his thoughts keep returning to his earlier conversation with Trevor and the suggestion of having sex with Roger. His dick stirs whenever he thinks of it. Roger and Sam prepare for bed. They finish brushing their teeth and Roger hugs the boy and kisses his forehead. "Goodnight, Sam." Sam hesitates, then releases his hold. He mumbles something inaudible and retreats into his bedroom. Roger lies on his side in bed, reading in the light of the bedside lamp, when he hears a quiet "Rog, yer awake?" He turns to see the boxer-clad boy standing by his bed. "Can I sleep with ya?" "Of course," Roger replies and he holds up a corner of the bedclothes in invitation. Sam hops into bed and into Roger's welcoming arms. He sighs as Roger gently strokes his shoulders and the back of his neck. Sam's body is warm, smooth and firm, with the vigour of a healthy lad. He smells clean and fresh from the shower taken earlier in the evening, but there is an underlying musk of teen boy that makes his scent more enticing than mere antiseptic soap. Sam takes a deep breath and looks deeply into Roger's eyes. "Ya know, if yer want ta do stuff, I don' mind," he whispers. "Stuff?" "You know, stuff. Mess aroun'." He gives Roger a little jab in the ribs in reproof. "Oh, messy stuff." Roger grins as the boy gives him another jab. "That would be lovely," he continues, "but I think we're becoming good friends and the last thing I want to do is to spoil our friendship. I'm afraid that sex might do that, and I have long realised that I don't have to have sex with cute boys. After all I've had years of practice in that." "Don't be daft, it's just sex," Sam replies, a little impatiently. "An', an', . . . I wanna have sex with you. 'Corse ya prob'ly not interested." "Oh, my dear boy, I'm very interested. You're a handsome sexy lad that has been testing my self-control from the beginning, but I'd hate to do you any harm. If you are looking for a little fun, I think you would be better to experiment with a friend your own age." Sam shakes his head in displeasure at the suggestion. He's horny and wants sex now, he feels safe and secure in Roger's arms, and he can't think of anyone else he would like to discover sex with. He remembers Trevor's comment that he would have to make the first move, but wishes that Roger would just accept it and get on with it. Sam rolls out of Roger's arms, disappears under the bedclothes and pulls off his boxers. His head reappears, he waves his boxers in the air with a flourish, then with a grin drapes them over Roger's face. Roger gasps, chokes, retches and wrestles the funky undies off his face. He smiles up at Sam, who is propped up on an elbow and looking down at him. "Ijit," Sam laughs. "OK, I give up," Roger says. "Having a sexy boy, who's also naked, in my bed is far too much for my self control. However, I wont have sex, but I will make love." "I should bleedin' well 'ope so," Sam grumbles. "I mean, what dus a guy hafta do around here to get laid?" Sam disappears under the bedclothes again and Roger feels him tugging at his boxers. He lifts his hips to make the boy's task easier. Roger feels a hand tweak his cock and Sam emerges, boxers in hand. The youth waves them in the air and throws them on the floor. Sam sits on Roger's thighs, grasps the bottom of the man's T-shirt and begins to pull them up his torso. The youth tugs the T-shirt over Roger's chest, but in order to reach the man's armpits, Sam moves forward until he is sitting squarely on Roger's crotch. Roger looks up at the teen, who smiles down at him, cheeks flushed from his exertions. His cock is nestled in the crack of Sam's arse and it begins to swell and stiffen. However, his erection is pointing in the wrong direction and starts to become uncomfortable, almost painful. Roger groans. "Er, . . Sam," he says. "Yer gettin' hard. I can feel it on me bum." "Well, yes, but it's getting a bit painful, it needs to be pointing the other way." "Yeah? So?" The teen gives the man below him an evil grin. "Would you raise your bum, just for a moment," Roger pleads. Sam considers this. "Maybe," he says, but pauses until Roger groans again, then with a chuckle raises himself off the man. With the release of pressure, Roger's erection flips up and hits his belly with a smack. Sam sits down again on the hard-on. The end of Roger's swollen cock pokes out from underneath the teen's plump hairless balls. There is a narrow strip of hair across the base of Sam's dick, which is well-developed, solid and uncut. It begins to stir and swell and lift. The cockhead peeks out from the protecting foreskin, then is fully exposed as the foreskin retracts and Sams erection proudly juts up into the air. As Roger gazes at the display, his cock begins to throb. "Right, then, let's get this off ya." Sam's voice goes husky with lust and anticipation as he leans over remove the T-shirt. Roger helps as much as he can as the boy struggles the T-shirt over his shoulders, head, and arms. "Cor," Sam pants, as he triumphantly holds up Roger's T-shirt and throws it off to one side. Roger wraps his arms around Sam's shoulders and pulls him down. He relishes the solid weight of Sam lying on top of him, the boy's head resting on his shoulder, their two stiff cocks nudging each other in the dark warm crevice of groins and pubes. Roger strokes his hands down Sam's back and onto his arse. Then he gives a sharp slap onto each butt cheek. "Hey," Sam protests as he raises his head to look down at Roger. "That's for being cruel to my poor suffering stiffie," Roger explains. Sam smirks and with a clenching of his buttocks, grinds his hard-on into the man's groin with an instinctive fucking movement. Roger raises his head and kisses the boy on the lips. He doesn't know whether Sam will accept this intimacy, but in his passion he finds those lips irresistible. Sam pulls his head away with a slight frown, looks thoughtful, then lays his head back in the hollow of Roger's neck. Roger rolls onto his side, Sam in his arms. He releases his hold of the teen, lying on the bed beside him. Roger runs his fingers through Sam's tousled mop, explores his ear, caresses his smooth cheek and sturdy neck. Roger runs his hand over the youth's chest to his large nipples and plays with each until it becomes hard and pointy. "Ssss," Sam hisses as his nipples are stimulated and become sensitive to touch. Sam lies with eyes half closed and a slight smile, as Roger worships his body. He had always thought that his dick was his only sexual organ and never dreamt that such simple caresses could be so arousing. Roger's hand explores its way from an erect nipple and dives into an armpit. After exploring that little hollow, it reappears and strokes and smooths its way over Sam's firm, muscled, stomach. With Sam's state of arousal, his belly is super-sensitive and it trembles at Roger's touch. The man's caress is almost too much to bear. Roger dips a finger into Sam's innie, then as he moves his hand further down it bumps into the boy's erection. He slides his hand down Sam's belly, under the teen's hard cock so that it runs over his fingers and knuckles. "Oh", Sam sighs at the friction against his hard-on that quivers and aches for release. Roger reaches Sam's little bush and grasps the boy's weapon. "Mmm," Sam murmurs at the novel sensation of someone else's hand on his dick. The youth's dick fills Roger's hand, hot and throbbing in time with Sam's heartbeat. Roger strokes it down to the base and up. "Aah," Sam moans, as Roger's fingers run over his super-sensitive cockhead. He is about to achieve the climax he has been eagerly awaiting. "Oh," Sam whines in disappointment as Roger releases his hold. Roger fondles and massages Sam's balls that have tightened and are now held close to his body. Roger wriggles his hand between Sam's thighs and the teen opens his legs to grant easier access. Roger runs his fingers along Sam's perimeum to his anus and rubs against the ring of muscle. "Erk," Sam squeaks in surprise at the attack on his most private place. Roger pushes his finger inside the warm, tight tunnel. He can feel the boy's tight ring squeezing his finger. "Ouch," Sam winces at the invasion. Roger moves his finger, finger fucking the youth. "Ah," Sam groans at the unexpected pleasure. His hard-on lies along his belly, twitching as it throbs. Sam raises his knees so that his feet are flat on the bed, to give Roger as much access to his bum as possible, and he closes his eyes as he concentrates on the sensations coming from below. Roger removes his finger from Sam's back passage. "Oh," Sam whines at the loss. Roger positions himself over Sam, resting his weight on his arms and knees. The boy lies under him, open, vulnerable, accepting, looking up at the man with eyes wide in anticipation, lips slightly parted. Roger would love to nibble on those sweet lips and explore the damp cave of his mouth, reluctantly decides that would be too much for the teen. Roger smoothes Sam's hair away from his ear and gently nibbles on an earlobe, man's cheek against boy's. Roger sucks on one nipple, flicking it with his tongue, then on the other. "Hmmm," Sam hums at the sensation. Roger moves Sam's arm above his head and attacks the exposed armpit, licking the skin and sparse scattering of wispy hairs clean. The pit tastes slightly of sweat and essence of boy, sweet with a hint of chocolate. "Eeee," Sam giggles and twitches at the tickly feeling Roger laps at the other armpit. He sticks his tongue in Sam's navel, as the lad's belly twitches and shudders. Roger moves down to Sam's rigid erection with its swollen red head. He licks it from base to head and quickly licks the drop of precum that appears at the tip. "Argh," Sam gasps. Roger grasps Sam's legs behind the knees and lifts them above the teen's head, exposing his arsehole. He bends over and tongues Sam's ring, massaging it and pushing the tip inside. "Aaww," Sam squawks, as he holds up his legs to give Roger as much access as possible. The boy's butt is clean, but with a lingering earthy, funky smell that Roger relishes. Roger halts his assault on that magic muscle and lays Sam's legs flat, revealing his weapon as it oozes precum and begs for relief. Roger lifts the erection off the teens belly and engulfs it in his mouth, caressing the head with his tongue. "Urgh," Sam gurgles. Roger plunges down on Sam's erection, until the boy's pubes tickle his nose and the head of Sam's cock nudges against the entrance to his throat. "Hunh, Jeez," Sam whimpers. Roger sucks and stimulates the lad's already over-stimulated popsicle. "Ungh," Sam groans as his body goes rigid and he comes. Roger feels three or four little squirts hit the back of his mouth and land on his tongue. He tastes the creamy sweet boy-nectar and swallows it. Sam's dick softens slightly, but is still semi-rigid when Roger lets it slip out of his mouth with a final wipe of the head with his tongue. The youth releases his grip on the bedclothes as he recovers from the overwhelming sensations. Sam had never imagined how intense sex could be compared to mere wanking with his trusty right hand. Sam opens his eyes and smiles luxuriously as Roger fondly regards the boy as he lies alongside him on the bed. With the resilience and rapid mood changes of youth, Sam recovers. The experience is never to be forgotten, always to be treasured, but it is time to put the memory to one side and to move on. "Right, then," he says briskly. "Spose I gotta do that mucky stuff ta you." "Not at all. I don't want you to do anything you don't want." Roger hides a pang of disappointment at the thought. "Nah," Sam replies. "It'll be right disgustin' 'n all, but I knows yer expects it, really." Roger thinks Sam looks remarkably happy for a boy about to do something he thinks is revolting. And Sam's not the sort of boy to be forced into something he hates. Roger suspects that what Sam says is not what he means, so he decides to lie back and let the teen take charge. Sam strokes Roger's dense crop of short, dark hair, where a few silvery strands are just starting to appear. He pokes his finger into Roger's ear, to the man's surprise, then inspects his fingertip. "Yuk," he says and wipes his finger on Roger's chest. Sam runs his hand down Roger's jawline. "It's like sandpaper," he mutters. Sam's hand walks its way through Roger's chest hair and roughly tweaks his nipples. Sam's fingers delve into an armpit, grasp a tuft of hair and tug sharply. "Ouch, what's that for?" Roger complains. "That's fer spanking me bum," Sam retorts. Sam's fingers continue their march down Roger's chest and belly, with a short diversion into his navel, along the treasure trail and into the man's bush. He grasps Roger's hard-on. Roger sighs at the sensation of the boy's hand holding his cock, so similar and yet so different to his own hand on his erection. Roger's shaft throbs in Sam's grasp. He gives it a couple of strokes, then reluctantly releases his hold. Sam rolls Roger's balls around in the palm of his hand. His hand dives between the man's thighs, where he explores Roger's perineum, hesitates, then goes no further. Sam climbs on top of Roger and sits on top of the man's erection, with a wiggle of his bum to settle it comfortably in his crack. He leans forward, hovers over Roger's face, purses his lips, then sits up again. "No way I'm gonna kiss yer ear, Rog, that's so weird," he announces. Sam slides his bum down Roger's thighs and leans forward to suck on one nipple until it goes hard, then the other. Roger shivers at the sensation. Sam licks and trails his way down the man's chest towards Roger's belly button until he bumps the underside of his chin against Roger's stiff cock. Roger winces at the impact on his sensitive cockhead. Sam raises his head and inspects Roger's erection at close range, as if puzzled at what it is and why it should be there. He tentatively licks the upper shaft and cockhead, thinks about it for a moment and shrugs as if he decides that licking a cock isn't such a big deal after all. Roger sighs in pleasure at the sight of Sam's tousled mop buried in his groin and the sensation of the boy's tongue along his weapon. "OK, Rog, lift yer legs up," Sam instructs and Roger obediently lifts his knees onto his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. He is content to let the youth take charge, as that means that Sam does exactly what he wants, and as a gift to the boy who has so little control over the rest of his life. Sam closely inspects the man's exposed butt and wrinkles his face at the sight. "Youse got a hairy arse," he says. "I've niver seen an arsehole before. It looks, weird, kinda revolting ta think that shit comes outta there. Don't know how ya could stick yer tongue in there, it's gross." "I can't. I'm not like cats and dogs, who can reach their own bottoms to lick them." Sam slaps Roger sharply on a bum cheek. "Not yor arse, dork, mine. You knows wot I mean." Roger laughs. "You have a sweet little arsehole, it was very tasty." "Well, I'm not doin' it," Sam retorts. Sam pulls Roger's legs flat along the bed and returns his attention to the man's straining erection. He blows a breath of air over the head of Roger's cock, then glances up. "Dus ya like the blow job, then?" "Um, yes, it's very nice, but that's not actually what a blow job is. You see, . . ." Roger notices a hint of a grin lurking in the corners of Sam's mouth. "And you know very well what a blow job is, you cheeky devil," he scolds the boy. Sam giggles and grasps the shaft of Roger's hard-on. He had never imagined that he would even consider sucking cock, but at the thought of what is about to happen his lips part slightly and his eyes glaze over. Sam opens his mouth wide and engulfs Roger's erection. Roger shivers at the rasp of the boy's tongue on his cockhead. Sam plunges down on the hard cock, but chokes as it pushes against the entrance to his throat. He retreats, with a grumble of frustration, until a more manageable length of Roger's cock is in his mouth. Sam begins to suck vigorously. Roger is as stimulated as he has been for a long time and the sight and feel of the teen feasting on his meat is very quickly too much for him. With a groan and a shudder, Roger comes with 3-4 powerful spurts that hit Sam's throat and coat his mouth. Sam chokes and splutters and pulls back, letting the man's cock slip from his mouth. A drizzle of spunk drips from his lips. Sam grimaces wildly at the taste of the slightly bitter sticky emission in his mouth. "Yuk, why din't ya warn me?" "Well, what did you expect when you sucked my cock?" "I din't mean ya spunking, ya moron. I meant why din't ya tell me when ya were gonna splurge in me mouth? I woulda pulled off" "I'm sorry," Roger replies. "You were doing so well with the blow job that I got carried away and forgot." "Lyin' toad," Sam grumbles. Sam climbs up on top of Roger, props himself up on his elbows and looks down at the man. Roger rests his hands on the boy's buttocks, with the tips of his fingers penetrating into Sam's bum crack. Sam looks triumphant and a little smug as he smiles down at Roger. He gives the man a quick peck on the mouth with his spermy lips. "Yer playing with me bum again," Sam comments. "Yes, it's such a lovely bum, it's irresistible." "Ya pervert." "I certainly hope so," Roger replies. Sam lowers his lips to Roger's. He kisses with a closed mouth, but his kiss is slow and soft. Roger gently nibbles on the youth's lips, then caresses them with his tongue. Sam's eyes widen in surprise. Roger pushes against Sam's lips and the boy reluctantly opens his mouth and lets the man inside. Their tongues meet and wrestle, just a little. Sam breaks off the kiss with a small gasp. "Wow." His hard dick throbs against Roger's belly and he grins. "Ya know, kissing is called 'swapping spit'. Niver thought about it being 'swapping spunk'." "Yes," Roger says, "and think where else my tongue has been." "Huh? Where? Oh, . . . me arsehole! Shit, that's so gross." Sam screws up his face ferociously and frantically wipes his mouth and tongue on Roger's chest. He collapses on Roger and begins to laugh. "Din't know this sex stuff would be so mucky." "So, give me another kiss, then," Roger demands. "Fat chance, matey," Sam retorts, but he eagerly raises his head back up to Roger's for another kiss. Roger and Sam roll on their sides, arms wrapped around each other. Sam is emotionally drained, he feels safe and secure in Roger's arms and so is perfectly relaxed and at peace. His eyes droop, and with one last kiss and a mumble, he relaxes his hold on the man and falls asleep. Roger's gaze lingers on the sleeping face beside him, that looks so young and innocent. He listens to the soft sound of the boy's breathing. He gives Sam a goodnight kiss on the forehead, gently removes his arm from under the boy's head, and reaches out to turn off the bedside light. . o O 0 O o . End of Part 3 To be continued . . .