Date: Sun, 16 Jul 2017 17:52:54 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Fourteen again - Chapter 59 Fourteen again by badboi666 =============================================================================== This story is - guess what! - fantasy. If sex with boys isn't your thing, go away. If, as is much more likely, you've come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about sex with a 14-year-old then make yourself comfortable - you're in the right place. Remember the three things: 1 Cum 2 Wipe 3 Donate =============================================================================== Chapter 59 I spent the time on the train to Harlow thinking about the next week. Tonight I would be with Ace, safe and happy with the man I loved. No doubt King would be teasing me about my stupidity, but I could live with that. Not only did I deserve to be teased, but I liked King and being teased by family - as I was regarding these two - was part and parcel of family life. Tomorrow would be a fun session with four lads if Dan turned up. I was pretty sure he would, but if his mum had different plans for him then he wouldn't be there. I would spend tomorrow night at Bob and Steve's so that on Thursday Steve and I could have our fun with the sling - I was really keen to see what Greg had bought, and what his little extras might be. I would return home on Thursday night, and beyond that I had nothing I wanted to do ... unless ... now that was a possibility! It would be a wonderful way of filling my last weekend too. It would need to be mentioned casually, and at the right time. Not tonight though. I got to Harlow Station long before King's agreed meeting time, so I waited in the sunshine outside. I was glad that the fairy hadn't deprived me of the patience I had learned to acquire during a long life: waiting was hell when you were 14 for the first time. Ten minutes before he was due I heard the roar of a bike, and within seconds King pulled up. "Hop on, you daft bugger," he said cheerfully, "you aren't the only one who's been having kittens." When we got back home - even thinking about it as 'home' gave me a tingle of delight - King parked the bike and I got off. "Thanks, King, I owe you." "Yeah, but it's not me you should be worried about. Ace has been off his head with worry. He thinks it was his fault you got lost. Be nice to him." I grinned, "Oh yes, I'll be that all right." Ace came bursting out of the house and grabbed me in a huge hug, lifting me off the ground and practically squeezing me in half. "Oh God, Jack, I thought I'd lost you," he whispered, "and it's all my fault." "No, Ace, I should have thought about where we live before I went off yesterday. The first thing I'm going to do when I can breathe again is write down where I live, just like a 5-year-old going to school." Ace buried his head against my neck and I could feel the sobs of relief. I knew he loved me, but I hadn't fathomed the extent to which this newly-discovered 14-year-old had so completely taken over his life. That loaded an enormous responsibility onto me. Luckily I was three times his age, and could probably cope now that I had seen how much I mattered. Love can be a bugger if you let it, and I was determined to let it take me over. "Put me down, Ace, I can't breathe," I whispered, "we have to go in." "Yeah, you two, you'll have the local paper round for a wedding photo if you don't get inside," said King, relaxed now that his brother's panic was over. Sitting in the kitchen five minutes later with mugs of tea and a packet of biscuits the three of us took stock. King said, "Look you two, each of you is convinced he's the one who fucked up. The truth is that we all did; after all, the one whose eyes aren't filled with love-sick stars is supposed to keep his feet on the ground and look out for the other two. Let's forget what happened and just be glad that nothing went wrong. OK?" Ace and I nodded. Ace reached out and took my hand, squeezing it. "Now you're back," King continued, "what's your plan - that is, if you're not planning to get lost again?" I was going to have to get used to this jibe from King, who had had to put up with Ace's panic, and thus had earned the right to rib me. It would only be for a week though. For the first time I wished I would have to put up with his ribbing for a lot longer. "If Ace is still happy to let me go off and play with boys then I have one more sleep-over I'd like to have. Tomorrow I'd like to go to London again, and I'll be back on Thursday about this time. Then I promise I won't leave again." Ace's weary response was that, for the millionth time, he had no objection to my buggering about with my own age. "But when you come home on Thursday I'll hold you to it." A week ago I would have made some smart rejoinder, like 'I hope so, I like it when you do that', but now things were different. A seriousness had crept into my thinking. Was it love, or a delayed reaction to the near-catastrophe, or just an awareness that the end wasn't far off? I added, "but tonight I am yours," throwing my arms apart in a dramatic gesture. "Good," grunted King, "I take it that means both of us." Ace and I both said "of course" in unison. The plan for the rest of the day began to take shape. The first thing was to write down Ace's phone number and address, and Ace insisted I write down details of where I'd be for the next two days. The next thing was food. "Let's have a celebration meal out now you're back," suggested Ace, "what kind of food do you like, Jack?" Should I answer as an old man, or as a 14-year-old, I wondered. Since the number of meals I still had in front of me wasn't all that great I opted for what I - the real Peter - actually wanted. "Good French cuisine," I said, "I have a refined palate, and not just for spunk. Is there anywhere nearby?" "Not something we've tried," said Ace, "but I think there's a fancy place in Bishop's Stortford. That's only a few miles." King looked it up in the phone book and a booking was made for 8 o'clock. It was now 7.30. I had a quick shower, all by myself, but with an audience of two, and by 8 we were seated with menus in front of us. King said, in a low voice, "we've never eaten in a place like this, Jack, but you obviously have. How come?" I had to think fast. "I'll tell you later, but first let's order; I'm starving." Neither of them seemed able to make a choice, so I said (being a creature of habit) "I'd like the duck, and potted shrimps as the starter." Ace and King made eye contact. "We'll have the same then," said Ace to the hovering waiter. The hovering waiter then asked the killer question. "Which wine would you like, sir?" I knew I had to save poor Ace, so I chipped in, all smart-arse kid, "the '49 claret would be ideal." Ace and King looked at me with only marginally less astonishment than the waiter. An explanation was called for. "They teach you all kinds of useful stuff at school, you know." The waiter looked at Ace. "If he says it's ideal then that's what we'll have," he said. "You have quite a lot to tell us 'later'," mused King. The potted shrimps arrived with nice hot toast. I dug some out with the butter and slapped it on, conscious that I was the only one who knew how to deal with them. Had I overdone the sophistication? would Ace and King have been happier at a steakhouse? No, I decided, they had a lot to give to me and I had only a limited amount (apart from sex) to give them - how to eat exotic grub was a small offering. The shrimps didn't last long. When the plates were cleared away the waiter arrived bearing a bottle, wrapped in a linen cloth, and with a broad grin on his face poured a small quantity into my glass. "You seem to be the expert, sir, and as there are no other diners tonight I see no reason why you should not sample the wine." Again I was in the spotlight as Ace and King watched, curious to see what happened. I decided not to play up - it wasn't fair. So I didn't swirl it round; I didn't warm the glass in my palm; I didn't inhale the bouquet (although - God! it was good); all I did was a little swirl and a little sip. I caught the waiter's eye and nodded. "Thank you." He filled all three glasses. When he'd gone Ace said "how come he's letting you drink?" "It's legal provided I'm having a meal with an adult," I said, "do you think I'd have chosen this if I couldn't get a couple of glasses of wine down me?" King was quick to calculate that if I wanted a couple of glasses then a second bottle was going to be needed. It was time for the 'later' conversation. What I told them was, in terms of the practical details, largely true, although it had happened to me about 80 years ago. "My parents took me for a holiday on the Continent a few years ago, and when we were in France we had a meal like this. French kids drink wine from an early age - 10, say - but their parents dilute it with water. That way they learn to appreciate grown-up tastes without getting drunk. I think it's a great idea: the kids think they're being grown-up and everyone's happy." "What happened to your parents?" asked Ace gently. Truth again. "They're both dead. I don't like to talk about it." I was glad that they both respected my view, no doubt because it wasn't so very far from their own. Ace put his hand on mine and squeezed it. I felt a shit for lying, but the truth was not an option. Luckily the duck appeared and that put an end to further problems. The first bottle soon emptied and King signalled for another. "Look," I said, "I want you to agree to something. I want it very much, and I've thought about it a lot." Ace and King exchanged a look, almost as if to say 'we've been expecting this'. I took the plunge. "Please don't be offended, either of you. The prices in this place are very high - no, let me finish - and when I came here at the start of August I had a lot of money with me. I've spent very little, mainly because people have been generous and fed me -" "And let you sleep in their beds," added Ace with a wink. "- Yes, that too," I agreed, " but I've got more than I need and I want to pay for this meal. I have plenty, honestly." "OK," said Ace, "that's very generous, we accept." "Good, thanks. If I'm coming to live with you guys then what's mine becomes ours." Another hand squeeze from Ace. King turned to Ace and, for my benefit, said "This boy of yours is quite a find, bro. I think you should let him stay. If he persuades us to eat food like this, and pay for it, I don't mind fucking him now and again." "Don't forget the wine," I put in, "Ace gets to fuck me too." Amazing what a couple of glasses of a '49 will do. "Right," I said, "cheese. Let's put this place to the test." I am delighted to report that 'this place' passed with flying colours. In 1957 if you asked for biscuits and cheese in an English restaurant you'd have got a piece of cheddar and a bit of Danish blue and a few crackers. 'This place' was clearly French-run, and the cheese board was a stunner. I counted 12 different cheeses and M. le Patron was so pleased with a table of customers who knew their way about (well, one of them did and the other two joined in) that he encouraged us to have four different pieces. And no bloody crackers, but real crusty bread. The second half of the the second bottle made excellent into perfect. This would probably be my last gastronomic delight, and it exceeded my best hopes. To add cognac would have been stupid. The bill came to £38, so I took nine big white £5 notes from my pocket and passed them quietly to Ace. "Tell him to keep the change," I whispered. Ace's eyes were out on stalks, but he didn't say anything. Needless to say M. le Patron was effusive in his thanks, urging us to return as soon as we could. I smiled. There would be no return. "Merci, m'sieu," I said quietly, "ç'etait parfait." Outside I climbed on behind Ace and together we roared back to Harlow. I suppose that both of them were over the limit, but in those days if you didn't have an accident no-one bothered. We got home safely. "That whole experience was very strange," said King when we were in the sitting room relaxing. "I don't see how you could have picked up all the knowledge you obviously have just by watching your parents ordering food and wine. There must be more to it." "What could there be?" said Ace, "Jack's bright and he must have taken in everything that happened." What could there be indeed! "Did you enjoy it?" I asked. Both of them nodded at the same time. "Yes, but I wouldn't want to eat like that too often," said Ace. "Couldn't bloody afford it," put in King, "after our rich find's money runs out." I loved the way King could say sarky things without a hint of malice - his sense of humour was very like mine. Ace's was too, but in everything he said I could detect a sense that he was protecting me. And because that was because he loved me, I didn't mind at all. All three of us were at ease with each other. I moved to sit close to Ace. "I feel frisky after all that wine. Let's all three go into the bedroom." "Yeah," said King, "I want to thank you for that meal, and I think I know a way you'll like." Ace grinned. "Come on then. I want to thank my lucky stars you found your way home, and since there aren't any other stars around it'll have to be you I thank." I had my own idea about what I wanted to do, however. They would soon find out. =============================================================================== No sex this time, but a lot of bonding, and a really good claret. I expect we'll get our kit off pretty soon though. badboi666@btinternet.com is where you should sent comments and suggestions. Make sure you drop something Nifty's way at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html