Fellowship of the Schoolboy ring 5

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.

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Fellowship of the Schoolboy Ring.

By John Teller.

Part five.

Brice Washington-Thompson speaks.

Eight o'clock. Alan will be on his way to catch the bus. Well, you hope he will. He hasn't phoned you this morning, but you know why he hasn't. He doesn't want to wake you or you might get up. The front door key is under the mat, awaiting his arrival.

He's going to have a surprise when he brings your coffee. He probably thinks you'll drink them, have a couple of chocolate digestives, and then have sex. He's a twelve year old schoolboy, and most of them are horny little sods. Sinclair used to pout like a two year old if he didn't get his own way whenever he wanted it. But that's part of the game.

The game. You're going to play the game with Alan when he arrives and see how he reacts. You're going to teach him about the fun part of what you are. And there's a reason for that. Without fun, all you are is two people who want sex with each other. You do want sex with each other, but sex is only part of a loving relationship. For a relationship to grow and become secure, you need other things in it like non-sexual love and cuddling and talking and fun and laughter. Hopefully, what you've got planned for this morning will be all of those things. But part of the fun part to you is seeing how long the fun will last before the horny schoolboy rears his beautiful head... or in his case, his beautiful cock. That should be fun. How long? You'll give him thirty minutes max after he's got into your bed. But that will be good, because you've missed him like hell all week, and having seen and sampled his beautiful body, you most definitely want more. And to make matters even more pressing, you know that today he will do things to you that will drive you crazy. You know that, because all this week while you've been talking on the phone, he's outed his feelings and desires.

He's a clever boy. He used the pictures on his wall to describe his sexual fantasies when he's in bed at night with whoever he chose that night for his bed-partner, and because he did, you know he desires your body as much as you desire his. The urinating in your mouth bit never cropped up, but apart from that, he's pretty much like Sinclair was: obsessed with sex, and most definitely a cock-sucker. He wants anal sex - you in him - but you know that will be a slow process. There's a vast difference between a twelve year old bum taking a finger and that thing between your legs. Even Sinclair, who was super-sex-mad, took a few months before he could take you comfortably, and he was a natural bottom. But it will be fun getting to that situation. Alan's bottom is going to have your very best care and attention before he is ready to take all you have to offer.

Alan's bottom. It's superb. He's not a lad who carries a lot of weight, and what weight he has is stored in the right parts, especially those two well-rounded buttocks of his. When he was on top of you on the sofa and you were feeling him up, one of the most beautiful sensations was running your hands down his back, up onto his fabulous buttocks, and then down onto the backs of his glorious, soft, pliable thighs. He's got a roller-coaster body where you start at his shoulders, explore the delicate bone structure of his upper back, and then dip your hands into his deep, inverted waist before climbing a steep curve to caress buttocks that fit easily in your large hands... two orbs of mercurial elasticity to fondle. And the gradient of the journey down from them to his thighs is almost as steeply ramped as that of getting up to them in the first place. Alan's bottom is an entity of its own, and you adore it. But you've always adored little boy's bums, especially when they're part of a boy who has stolen your heart. Particularly bums of boys who have stolen your heart when they're just twelve years old.

Twelve years old. Yes, he is now. It was awkward not being able to celebrate his special day with him. He'd given you his address, and you sent him a card. But you had to be very careful what you wrote in it just in case his father asked who the card was from. You couldn't write `love' on it, so you had to think of something that would say that you loved him without his dad knowing. So you wrote: Best wishes on your special day, A, from George. And you put a five pound note in it. You would have liked to have given him a hundred, but five pounds was just about right from a schoolboy pal who doesn't have a lot of money, and you'd already spoken to Alan about the card (but not what you were going to write in it) and told him you wouldn't give the game away with what you wrote on it. He was to say it was from one of his mates he met each morning when he caught the school bus. He wouldn't be telling a lie then (well, not an out and out lie), which is something you've discovered he doesn't like doing to his dad. So, he got the card, and he was thrilled with what you'd put in it. He'd worked it out easily. `A' was a synonym for Alexandre, and `George' an abbreviation of Georges. Les Amitiés Particulières - Those Special friendships – your developing special friendship, which is becoming more precious by the day.

His dad did ask, and Alan told him it was from one of his mates he meets at the bus stop. Nothing more was said, thank goodness, because you don't want Alan do what he doesn't like doing, and what he's not very good at: telling lies. But not wanting to, nor being very good at telling lies can be a drawback to people like you in a situation like yours. With you and Sinclair, it was easy. You both used to lie through your back teeth to keep secret what you had and did. It's what you have to do, and you're very much aware that without that `asset', things are going to be much more difficult for you and Alan. Alan has got to get used to telling the odd lie or two, even to his dad, who, it seems, he adores, and you've both got to be clever and make the best of it.

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

The best of it. When you hear the front door close, you know you're about to experience the best of it, and you make sure things are exactly as planned. You were up earlier to take a shower and use the bathroom, and you're naked in bed as you sit up against pillows that are already arranged for him to lie beside you if he is brave enough.

Because you've left the bedroom door open and the house is quiet on a Sunday morning, you hear everything Alan is doing. You've already filled the electric kettle with water, so he boils it, and you hear it switch off. (It has a click that is loud and clearly identifiable.) You hear him stirring the two mugs that you prepared last night, and then almost silence. That's because you know he's wearing only socks as he comes up the stairs. Then he appears in the doorway with two mugs in his hand and a grin on his face from ear to ear when he says, "I've brought your coffee. Where do you want it?"

You grin at him and point to your own bedside cupboard, indicating that he puts it on there, which he does, and then you point to the other bedside cupboard, and tell him, "Put yours on your side." While he's walking round the bed, you appraise his clothes. He's wearing blue jeans and a sloppy, colourful tee-shirt that has a logo on the front that says, Fun time! Hilarious, and apt in this instance. Well, hopefully it will be when you get down to the nitty-gritty.

When he's put the mug down, he looks at you. You know what he's thinking. You're lying in bed with the left side vacant for him; the duvet is down to your midriff and he doesn't know if you're naked or not, and he's shy and doesn't know what to do. So he asks, "Where do you want me to go?"

You lift a bit of the duvet his side, and tell him, "In bed, of course."

He looks a bit puzzled, plucks at his tee-shirt, and asks, "With these on?"

You're dying not to laugh, but you manage to keep a straight face when you say, "No! Take your clothes off!"

"All of them?"

You shrug your shoulders. "Please yourself. If you're shy, leave on what you feel comfortable in, including your underpants."

He grins. "Have you got yours on?"

You grin back at him. "You'll find out when you get in bed. Come on... this coffee will be cold by the time you've finished messing about!" Then you chuckle inwardly. You've had a wager with yourself about what he'll do, and you win when he sits on the edge of the bed, removes his jeans and socks, and gets in bed with his tee-shirt and underpants on, leaving a small gap between yourselves. Despite what happened last Saturday, and despite all the sexy talk you've been having all week on the phone, he's shy now it's come to the crunch. Well, what twelve year old boy (apart from Sinclair) wouldn't be? When he's settled and has picked up his mug of coffee, you pick up yours, and take a sip. Then you look at him, and say, "Well done! Just how I like it."

He grins. "I only had to pour water on it, so I couldn't go wrong really."

"You caught the bus alright then?"

Another grin. "I must have done. I'm here."

You wink at him. "And not too soon."

He giggles. "Why's that?"

You put your mug of coffee back on the bedside cupboard, reach under the duvet on your side of the bed, and bring up the laptop that you put there. You open it, press the button to boot it up, grin at him, and say, "We'll watch a film, shall we?"

More giggles. "Watch a film?"

You give him a funny look. "Well what did you think we were going to do?"

You've embarrassed him, and he shrugs his shoulders. "What film?"

"Do you like Lord of the Rings?"

He giggles. "Not one of our films?"

"No. The fellowship of the Ring. It's my favourite. I've got them all. We can watch one of the others if you like. I've got The Hobbit if you want to watch that."

Even more giggles. "No, we'll watch The Fellowship of the Ring. I like that one."

Again you wink at him. "Good lad. It's three hours long, and a lot can happen while we're on our way to Mount Doom. You can be Frodo and I'll be Gandalf. I've always reckoned Gandalf fancied Frodo. Drink your coffee, snuggle up to me, and we'll be on our way."

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

And Alan is snuggled up to you when Frodo begins his journey; his legs touching yours under the duvet; his head resting on your left shoulder and under your chin; your left arm under and around him, and your hand resting on his hip. Alan's right arm and hand are down by his side, which means he now knows you're not wearing anything. By the time Frodo and Sam get out of The Shire, you've managed to get Alan's tee-shirt up far enough to worm your hand inside the hem of his underpants to hold his hip. The beauty of that sharp move is that the thumb of your left hand is free to fondle Alan's lower tummy. Unfortunately, he has a ticklish spot there, and you feel the involuntary reactions of the muscles that will become his six-pack when he's a little older. Eventually, he has to say, "Stop that! You're tickling me!"

You pretend you weren't aware of what you were doing, and say, "Sorry. Shall I rearrange our position?"

You can't see Alan's face, but you hear him giggle when he says, "Do what you want, but stop tickling me there."

Do what you want. Silly boy! Of course you're going to do what you want, and it will be what Alan wants too, but you need to continue the Fun time! So you roll his lower body over so he's almost on top of you down there. The consequence of the roll-over is that his left leg comes over you and nestles on your rock hard cock, and he chuckles. Also, his left hand that was holding himself down there becomes redundant because his rock hard cock is now trapped and pressing against your hip, so the left hand takes up the same position as when you were cuddling on the sofa: on your right nipple. More fun time! The change of position means that your hand inside his underpants now has complete access to his naked, gorgeous, boy bum, and because his left leg (bent at the knee) is across you and pressing your hard cock onto your tummy, those wonderful bum cheeks have opened to allow you access.

Access time... and while Gandalf is being thrown to the top of the Tower of Isengard, your fingers, like the three little hobbits, Sam, Merry, and Pippin, are playing games with Alan's bum, and he's squirming and moaning with sexual need as you stimulate the sensitive nerves around his tight little sphincter while he plays with your swollen knob, which he got hold of while the hobbits were in the inn with Aragorn.

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

Apart from the brief moment on the sofa last Saturday, it's some years ago since you made love to a boy. But making love to a boy is much like riding a bike: once you've done it, you never forget the basics, and although boys are different as in having different gears and styles, they respond to the same things. When you press down hard on a bike pedal, the bike goes forward. Likewise, when you play with a boy's sphincter, it stimulates his sexual awareness and desire. There are nerves in a boy's sphincter that, when stimulated properly, on some occasions can actually bring them to a climax, and while you were rearranging Alan's position on you, you took the liberty to dip your fingers into a small tub of baby cream that you'd previously tucked under the pillows before he arrived. That's why, now, you can work such magic on his most private part.

Magic! Your middle finger is doing the most damage (nail well pared well before he arrived, and filed down to perfection so as not to hurt him) as you use it to manipulate his tender boy hole, even slipping the end of it in and out of him at times, which causes it to contract in rhythm with his pulsating cock that's trapped against you. Also, when a boy first experiences what is happening to Alan now, they like to experiment. And that's what he's doing now. Your well-oiled finger has become a sex toy, something to be used. And using it he is. He likes it up his bum, and after a while of stimulation, he begins to take matters into his own hands, or, in this instance, into his hot, tight, tunnel of desire. So, while Aragorn is fighting the terrifying black riders - the nine Ringwraiths - with sword and fire on the hill at Weathertop, Alan pushes back until your middle finger becomes buried deep inside him just as Frodo is wounded, and you're beginning to wonder just where on the journey to Mordor, Alan will no longer be able to contain himself?

It doesn't take long.

It happens when Frodo is being carried on Glorfindel's horse by the elf, Galadriel – The Lady of Lothlórien – to Rivendell, pursued by the nine Ringwraiths. In fact, it happens just as she crosses the river, and Elron – Master of Rivendell – creates a flood to wash the nine Ringwraiths away. It's a dramatic scene in the film, and equally as dramatic when Alan succumbs to the sensual overload that envelops his wonderful, small body. Thus!

The sensations of the finger and him rubbing his nail hard cock (which is now running free because his underpants have slipped down during the journey to Mordor) on your body becomes too much for him, and you realise it when he begins to sound as if he's choking, and at the same time turns his head up with wild eyes and open mouth for you to get inside the only other sensual orifice he has. But as much as you love and desire his mouth, you want something much more important right then. And that's why (after quickly sliding the laptop off and by the side of you) you grab hold of him and haul his small body right up the bed so you can get the throbbing cock into your mouth as his climax overwhelms him, and just as the nine Ringwraiths are saturated by the flood, so, too, is your mouth when a mixture boy semen and urine spurts into the back of your throat, which you swallow eagerly and greedily.

**********

Alan is almost in tears as he lies enfolded in your arms when it's all over, and he whines, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pee on you."

You lift his head, stare into his eyes with a smile on your face, and say, "In me, not on me. There's a world of difference. You couldn't help it. It happens sometimes, especially when a young boy loses control. Don't worry about it. It was your pee, so I'm fine with it. Sinclair used to do it on purpose."

Alan looks puzzled. "He didn't!"

You nod. "He did. He was a naughty little imp at times. It was one of his little kinks. I didn't mind. Urine is sterile when it's first produced, and because it came out of him, I used it as a mouthwash."

Alan giggles. "Now I know you're telling me lies."

I shake my head. "No. It was part of the fun we had. He didn't do it all the time, but occasionally he was naughty and would let some go while I was doing him that way. I'd curse him, but he'd just laugh, so don't you worry your pretty little head about the bit that's just come out of you. Actually, in a way I'm pleased you did it."

Another puzzled look. "Why?"

You kiss him gently on the lips. "You lost control, and that only happens when the feelings are so nice that you can't help it. Was it nice?"

Alan lets out a long, deep, shuddering sigh. "I've never felt anything like it before. I never realised it could be so nice when you do it with somebody you... you..."

"Love?"

Alan nods. "Mmmmm. I thought it wouldn't be much different than when you do it yourself. Well, after last Saturday, I knew it was nicer, but I still didn't realise it would get as good as that. Did Sinclair like it as much as I did?"

"Sometimes. It isn't always as nice as that. That was a special one. It's because I made you wait for it. How long is it since you did it last?"

Alan grins. "I set a record. Two days. It nearly killed me. I wanted to see how much I could make for you, but I've gone and spoilt it for you by peeing instead."

"As well... not instead." You grin at him. "You made two decent spurts before you had a pee."

"Did I really?"

You nod. "Uhuh. Don't you usually spurt?"

Alan shakes his head. "No, it's a bit thicker now than it was, but it's usually just, sort of, you know, comes out and covers the end of it." Then he tucks his head under your chin, and says, shyly, "We haven't finished, have we?"

You almost laugh, but manage to stop yourself. Then you lift up his chin again, and smile at him. "Certainly not! By the time we get to Mordor, I'm hoping you'll be knackered. Me too. That's if you want mutual sex?"

Alan grins. "I was hoping it would happen to you when I was playing with it. How did you manage to stop it?"

You wink at him. "I didn't wait two days. I did it this morning when I was having a shower."

Alan laughs, and then growls at you, "You swine! You dirty rotten swine! Why did you do that?"

You kiss his soft lips, and then tell him, "To be absolutely honest, I was so worked up thinking about you coming that I knew if I was in bed with you with nothing on, I could easily let my own needs get the better of me before I'd seen to yours. You're a sexy little sod, and I have very little resistance to sexy little sods, so you might have been covered with my stuff before you got your deserts."

Alan grins. "But we can do it now?"

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

Do it now. After you've taken off Alan's tee-shirt and removed his underpants completely and put the laptop on the floor beside your bed, you give him what he wants... and take what you want from the gorgeous young man who has become your love and lover. But before that can happen, you have to work him up again so that any shyness left in him is overwhelmed by his desire for sex, and to get him in that state, you lay him on his back and make special love to his gorgeous young body with kisses from head to foot, and then turn him over so you can devour the rest of his wonderful presence. Only when he's surrendered to you completely can you do it now, and Alan is an absolutely willing partner when you pull him on top of you in the sixty-nine position and let him suck you off while your tongue is working it's magic where last your finger performed that task. And while his mouth and face and hands and fingers are still covered in the man-juices you fed to him, you pull him further up your body and suck on his stiff rod until he spasms to his second climax of the morning. Half an hour later you do the same to him again, but this time he's lying on his back with his legs wrapped around your neck when he reaches nirvana. And the morning session ends with him on his knees while you masturbate into his stretched sphincter, and you make sure some of the remnants of your man-juices go inside him. That's so important, because, hopefully, it's the first step in a long journey that one day will end in him taking every inch of your manhood. This first step is also meaningful in another way. You studied Alan's reactions while you were doing it, and although you're too big to enter him yet, you could tell by how he responded - pushing firmly against you - that he desires to be coupled with you one day.

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

"You're a good cook," Alan says as he tucks into the meat and potato pie and gravy washed down with orange juice. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"

You wink at him. "I learnt in my spare time while I was waiting for another Sinclair to come along."

Alan giggles. "Haven't you had any more boys besides me and Sinclair?"

"No. Not a single one. I was beginning to think of taking up the cloth and becoming a priest."

Alan giggles even louder. "You'd get plenty of boys if you did. I was thinking of becoming an altar boy myself."

You nod while you're chewing a piece of meat, and when you've eaten it, you take a swig of orange juice, grin at him, and say, "That would be nice. A naked, virgin, sacrificial lamb to be taken after you've delivered the sacrament. In my case, it would have to be ex opere operato, because even though you may be as pure as driven snow, I'm afraid I am full of sin. I like that. I'll use that as one of my fantasies about you while I'm waiting for your next visit."

Alan can't stop laughing at your conversation, and when he's stopped, he grins at you, and says, "I'm not as white as driven snow."

You stare at him across the table. "I'm not your first?"

Alan takes a mouthful of pie from his fork, and chuckles while he's eating it, and he doesn't empty his mouth when he says, "Not quite."

You stop eating, and stare questionably at him. "You've been with another man before me?"

Alan looks into your eyes. "No, not another man. My cousin used to do stuff with me."

"Your cousin? How old is he?"

"Eighteen now."

"And how old were you when this was going on?"

"Eight. I used to sleep in his bed when we stayed with them. He lives in Canvey Island."

You chuckle. "I'm not surprised. They're a randy lot down there. I have an ex-wrestler friend who's very familiar with that area, and he knows his way around boys, but they're usually much older than eight. And was it mutual?"

Alan giggles. "What do you think?"

"I think, having just tasted you big time, that you were probably responsible for the whole affair."

Alan almost chokes with laughter, and only when he's controlled himself does he say, "It was sort of mutual."

You grin at him. "Let me have a photograph of you when you were eight, and that can be another one of my fantasies. I'll bet you were a right little goer. I can just imagine you seducing your innocent cousin. Poor lad. I'll bet he was worn out by the time you'd finished with him. You're as bad as Sinclair when you get going."

Alan gives you a naughty grin. "Am I really?"

You wink at him. "Uhuh. I gone and got myself a Sinclair doppelgänger without really trying. Now who would have thought that?"

Alan is silent for a short while, and then he says, "You really loved him, didn't you."

You nod. "Yes. I still do. Does that hurt you?"

Alan shakes his head. "No. I think it's nice that you think that way. I hope you'll think the same way about me one day."

You look right into his beautiful blue eyes, and you can see them misting over slightly. Your new boy is a sensitive soul, and that warms your love for him even more. You nod your head. "I will. And just so you know, you're becoming as special to me as Sinclair was. You're different than him. You're shy while he was gregarious in everything he did."

"What does gregarious mean?"

"It means he didn't give a damn, and he was as crafty as a barrowload of monkeys when it came to matters regarding him and me. He was the best liar I've ever known, but you're not like that, Alan, and that does worry me a bit."

"In what way?"

You shrug your shoulders. "What we do has to be kept a secret... from everybody! I could go to jail for a long time if ever anybody found out. I know what we do is what you want as well, but the law doesn't look on it like that. I'm an abuser... a paedophile, and that makes me the lowest of the low. So I'm trusting you never to tell anybody what we do."

"I won't, I promise. It doesn't matter what anybody says to me, I won't tell them."

"And if your dad ever finds out that you're visiting me, what will you tell him?"

Alan stares back into your eyes. "I've already worked it out. If anybody does find out that I'm coming here, I'm going to tell them that you're teaching me how to be a writer. If they ask me why I haven't said anything, I'll tell them that I haven't because I didn't want them thinking we were doing anything wrong. But I'm not very good at lying, so can you teach me how to be a writer? If you do, then I can swear black and blue that's what I was doing, and I wouldn't be telling a lie."

You smile at him. "Do you have Apple MAC's at school, or do you use desktop PC's?"

"PC's."

"Good. Then I'll teach you how to use a MAC, and that will back up your story. If I can get you proficient with a MAC, then not only will it back up what you're saying, when you do go on to higher education, it will come in handy to you. Do you fancy that?"

"Have you got a MAC?"

You wink at him. "Eat your pie up and I'll show you where Halifaxual was made."

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

Alan is all eyes and very curious when he looks around your office. His hands run across the spines of the many books you have on the bookshelves, and he takes a while studying them before he says, "You must read a lot. Do you like reading?"

"Yes. Do you?"

"Sometimes. Depends what it is."

You walk across to almost where he's standing, and take out a book and show it to him. "You'll like this."

He's grinning when he sees it's an American published copy of Les Amitiés Particulières – Those Special Friendships. He looks up at you. "Can I borrow it?"

You smile at him. "Yes, and keep the tissues handy. But I think you should look inside the front cover before you take it."

He looks puzzled, and then opens the book. He sees it immediately... a photograph of Sinclair, and Sinclair is naked. It's not pornographic; just a simple scene of a naked thirteen year old boy standing in the sand dunes of North Wales, and unusually for Sinclair, his penis is flaccid and hanging perfectly over his tidy ballsac. It isn't posed. You took it one day when you lied your way to spending a day together. Alan studies it for a while, and then he says, "He really was beautiful, wasn't he. Why is it in the book?"

"Turn the photograph over."

Alan does, and slowly reads the words aloud. "A gift to my beautiful Georges, with special love from your Alexandre." Then Alan surprises you. Tears roll from his eyes, and there's a look of sadness in them when he looks into yours, and says, "I wanted to be your Alexandre."

You go to him and hold him close before you whisper to him, "You can be my Jeroen if you want to?"

Alan shakes his head, and mumbles into your chest, "I like Jeroen, but Alexandre's love was very special. I see myself like him most of the time."

Boys! One tends to forget that, at twelve years of age they're young and very impressionable, especially if they have a tendency to romanticism. Then, while you comfort Alan, an idea comes into your mind that might save the situation. So you push him slightly away from you, lift up his chin, stare deeply into his tearful eyes, and smile at him when you say, "You could be my somebody else? Somebody very special to me?"

He looks puzzled. "I don't understand."

You let go of him, reach onto the top shelf of your bookshelves, and take down two books. Then you go and sit in your office chair and beckon for Alan to sit on your knee. When he's settled, you turn the books over in your fingers for a few moments, and then give one to him. He studies the title: A Loved Boy in Rome, and looks at the picture of a bust of a boy that adorns the front cover. You sigh, and hug him to you when you tell him, "I wrote this story when I was at university. It was never published. In fact... only three copies were ever made. I had them made specially. Sort of secretly because I didn't want anybody to know I was gay. Sinclair has one; and I kept two. Now I've only got one if you want this copy."

Alan studies it, and then asks, "What's it about?"

"It's a beautiful love story about a Roman nobleman called Herodes Atticus who fell in love with and mentored a young boy called Polydeukes."

Alan looks into your eyes. "Is it... you know... err?"

You smile at him. "Sexy?"

He grins. "Yes."

"Depends on what you consider sexy. If you mean do I go into the fine detail of their special loving... yes and no. Very often when you're writing, you can make things extremely sexy and sensuous without actually describing the fine details. That's what Roger Peyrefitte did with Les Amitiés Particulières – Those Special Friendships. Can I ask you a question?"

Alan nods. "Uhuh."

"When you watch the film with Alexandre in it, do you think they ever actually did it?"

Alan chuckles. "No, but I think they both wanted to even though they didn't. I reckon if the priest hadn't caught them in the hay, they would have kissed properly and then it would have happened later."

You wink at him. "I'm bloody sure they would have if Alexandre had had his way! It was he who was using Georges fingers to stroke his thigh. You boys! We old men have no chance when you decide that you want sex."

Alan giggles like a schoolgirl, and the furrows in his brow are deep and pronounced when he says, "If we waited for you old men to get to it, we'd be waiting a lifetime!"

You laugh, and hug him to you. "Well, you'll like A Loved Boy in Rome. They do actually get to do it, but you'll have to add your own fantasies about what they actually do once the kiss is over. From what you tell me about the blokes on your wall, I reckon Herodes Atticus will be worn out by the time you go to sleep. Much like me if today is anything to go by."

Alan giggles. "Harry Atticus and Polly Dukes."

"Pardon?"

Alan giggles even more. "If the book is as good as you say it is, and I'm to be the kid in it, then that's what I'll call it."

His comment makes you laugh, and when you've finished chuckling, you say to him, "One of the reasons I fell in love with you was because I could tell you have a great sense of humour. I used to watch you at the bus stop and I could see the devil in your eyes then."

Alan grins. "What were the other things you could see?"

You grin at him. "I'll tell you later when we go back to bed."

Alan's brow furrows big time; his eyes open really wide, and he asks, "When's later?"

"When I've shown you around properly, and when you've spent ten minutes on the MAC."

Alan grins. "Let's get on with it then!"

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

At ten o'clock, you get a text from Alan. Am reading Harry Atticus and Polly Dukes. Glad I didn't choose to be your Jeroen. Harry Atticus is my kinda guy. He's lovely. Thanks for the lovely words you've written in it. I'll treasure it all my life.

You text him back. Am pleased. Polly Dukes is a wonderful and beautiful boy. Just like you.

The brevity of Alan's reply: I love you. makes you think your comments have upset him, and in your mind's eye you can envisage his beautiful blue eyes misty with tears. Yours are not far away from misting up. Polly Dukes really has wormed his way into your being. He makes your heart sing when you think about him; fills you with joy when you see him, and overwhelms yours senses when he's with you. Just those three things would be more than enough for you, but the extra dimension of having him as your lover makes your association as complete as it can be, and when Alan has read A Loved Boy in Rome, he will, hopefully, understand exactly how you feel about him. Even more so now you've written: To my Polydeukes-Alan, with special love from your Herodes Atticus-Brice inside the front cover.

It's late. Alan has to get up for school in the morning, so you sign off your texting with, I love you. Sleep tight. HA. xxx

And then you go to sleep with a smile on your face thinking how the reserved Alan Parnell who arrived this morning morphed into the gregarious Polly Dukes who went to bed with you after he soon got fed up with instructions on how to use a MAC. There's more of the Sinclair in him than you imagined there would be. The little bugger couldn't stop chuckling when he allowed a bit of his pee to `inadvertently' seep out of his gorgeous penis while your lips were suckling him. Another Sinclair? You hope so.

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 john.thestoryteller@gmail.com Genuine comments will be appreciated. All flames will be extinguished in the trash bin.