Date: Tue, 07 Mar 2000 21:38:36 +0000 From: Alexander Subject: Gareth's Story. Part 2(of 3) This fictional story contains scenes of consensual sex between teenage boys. If this offends you, or possession of which is illegal where you live, don't read on!If you choose to do so, let me have your thoughts about the story. ************************************************************** This is the second part of an on-going story. If you would like more, please let me know! GARETH'S STORY -- Part 2 By Alexander Chapter Seven I sat and waited for Martin to return from his game of football for ages getting more and more pissed off with him as time went by. I was rapidly convincing myself that he must be punishing me in his own way for what we had done the night before. It must have been getting towards ten o'clock before they eventually got back. The gang, about four of them, hit the house like a tornado, slamming the front door and running into the lounge screaming and shouting. This did absolutely nothing to improve the mood I was in. Desperately anxious to have another "talk" with Martin, I was really angry with him now. It seemed that he preferred being with his mates playing football, a game which I know he didn't like all that much, rather than talk to me. He even seemed to be ignoring me altogether. I knew also that there was no point in saying anything now -- I would only loose my temper, say something I would regret and probably get a beating into the bargain.Rather than risk getting the beating from the kids, I bit my tongue. I threw Martin what was the worst withering glance I could manage, told them that I was going to bed and satisfied myself with "Cunts!" said under my breath. Martin, I noticed, seemed completely oblivious of my presence. Once in my room I got undressed and deciding to dispense with a wash or shower, turned on my TV and got into bed. I was disinterestedly watching a film when I remembered that I hadn't locked the door. "Bollocks!" I thought and was just about to get up and lock it, but decided against it as by now I was warm and comfortable; and in any case who would want to come in here. This of course made my thoughts turn towards Martin once again. "Shit!" couldn't I ever get that bastard out of my mind? Apparently not, because despite the evil thoughts I was having about him, my hand had unwittingly slid down into my groin and was gently massaging my growing erection, giving lie to the things I was turning over in my mind. The film ended about midnight and feeling rather tired by now, I switched the box off, turned over and tried to sleep. Half an hour later I was still trying. I had just thrown the bedclothes off, having decided to have a wank in the hope that it would make me sleep when the door opened and in slid Martin. "Hiya!" he whispered, "You OK? Can I come in?" -- unnecessarily as by now he was in and the door had been locked behind him. He was dressed in only his pyjama trousers - this time without any pants underneath as I could see his already half erect cock through the hole. All my nasty little thoughts about him evaporated instantly and without trace. Suddenly we were the best of friends again, and he didn't even know we'd fallen out! Not giving him a direct answer, I slid over on the bed a little to give him room to sit. "Almost started without me did you," he grinned, "We can't have that can we?" And so saying took hold of my semi-rigid cock and started to stimulate it back to life. "Read your story. Good isn't it. Is it all true? What happened next? Have you written any more?" he rushed out in one breath. Turning over onto my side to face him, I took hold of Martin's cock and began to emulate his movements on mine. "No, not yet. I haven't felt like it. I'll try and do some tomorrow." "Shit!" he replied, "Come on then, tell me what happened instead. Secretly pleased to hear this, and also delighted to have my earlier fears dispelled, I was more than willing to do as I was asked. Putting an arm round each other, we made ourselves comfortable before I started. Chapter Eight Well, after I'd made my mind up that I wouldn't see Deryck again, I hung about the toilets quite a lot after that, and made quite a bit of money as well. Once again, as I thought about this time of my life I almost forgot Martin's presence as the memories came flooding back. Almost subconsciously I began to talk to Martin: I'd been going there for about three months when I noticed that there were often a couple of men knocking about the area who seemed to take a great interest in what was going on but never got involved. They even hid behind some bushes when they saw some of the `regulars' in the area. My suspicious, and probably over-active imagination, led me to only one conclusion -- it must be the Police. Reluctantly I decided that I ought not to visit the park quite so often and so had to find an alternative outlet for my ever-increasing need for sexual relief! Therefore from then onwards for quite some considerable time I devoted all my attention to Alex -- and him to me. He too had noticed the undue attention that the park was getting and had not been there for some days before I had unknowingly followed his lead. I don't know whether it was mutual frustration, lack of alternative partners or what, but Alex and me had a smashing time for ages. We even managed to spend the odd hour or two in one or other's bed when our parents were out; and even on one occasion the whole night together when my mother had unexpectedly gone to visit her sister. It was the first time I'd been left alone in the house overnight, and took full advantage of it. My sex life at that time was fulfilling I suppose; but after a while I wanted more -- something seemed to be lacking, but I didn't know what. Perhaps I was getting bored with Alex, or perhaps it was the thrill and danger of the encounters I'd had in the park. Anyway, for whatever reason, in between meetings with Alex. I went in search of something - or somebody - else. I remembered that there was a sports centre across the other side of town which I'd been to once or twice before, and not only were there toilets in the complex of course, but there was also a public one outside. Being inexperienced in such matters, and not knowing where to begin looking for partners, in some desperation I made up my mind to give it a try. The following day instead of going to school as usual I took the bus out to the complex. The one thing I'd forgotten was that being a school-day, the centre was full of kids having swimming lessons and so on. Damn! The day had already got the all the hallmarks of being a disaster -- again. Having experimentally investigated the inside toilets and quickly finding out as I expected that there was no future there as the instructors and teachers kept a fairly close watch on the place, I ventured outside. Nobody: there wasn't a person in sight apart from one kid about my age kicking a ball about in the tennis courts. Having nothing else to do and nowhere to go, I ambled across the lawn and choosing a spot where I could see both him and the toilet block, sat on the grass watching them both from what I considered to be a discrete distance. Not that I particularly fancied him, or anything like that, it was just the fact that he was the only person in the park apart from me. I'd been there for half an hour or so when I noticed that he seemed to spend an awful lot of time looking in the direction of the toilets. Whenever a man looked as if he was heading towards them, his game slowed almost to a standstill as he watched, resuming only when the object of his attention walked on past. I began to think. All the signs were there; after all I'd played the same game myself on many occasions of late. My suspicions were solidly confirmed when seeing a middle-aged man go in he quickly kicked his ball into a corner and ran into the toilets. Ten minutes later the man left and hurriedly walked back the way he'd come. Second later the boy came out, counting what must have been loose change in his hands. Stuffing the notes in a wallet and the coins into his pocket, he left the park by the nearest gate and headed down the road towards the shops. Having nothing better to do, and thinking that I might be able to learn something from him if only we could get to talking, I stood up and started to follow him. Just as I was about to pass the toilets, I saw a man walking towards me along the footpath: maybe, just maybe...? Anyway, I went in and waited just on the off-chance. I'd undone my flies and was pretending to have a piss when he came in, took one glance round the deserted toilets and stood next to me. As much out of habit as anything else I turned towards him and smiled. Shit! I must be getting desperate -- I hadn't even seen his face until now and here I was propositioning him! Thankfully, he wasn't too bad looking, and what's more to the point was willing. Nodding in the direction of the nearest cubicle, he walked across and held the door open for me. Ten minutes later, I was ten pounds richer, he had shot his load against the toilet door to mingle with mine and I was ambling down the road looking for my erstwhile young friend-to-be. The shopping precinct was busy and there was no chance of my finding the kid I'd seen in the park and so decided to invest some of my earnings in a coke and burger whilst I considered what to do next. I'd picked them up from the counter and was making my way upstairs when I spotted my `friend' in the corner near the window gazing down the road. Picking a seat at the next table, I sat facing him to eat my snack, at the same time watching him carefully. It wasn't long before we made eye contact. Giving me a hard stare, he turned away. Damn! I didn't like being ignored like this, especially as we had more in common that he realised and more than anything now, I wanted to meet him. "Got any salt?" I asked. Instead of answering me he simply slid the salt pot across the table a few inches in my direction. This meant that I had to get up and fetch it myself, or...? Picking up my food, I went across and sat at his table, making a show of salting my burger -- something which I hate incidentally. "Thanks!" I mumbled. "OK." "Didn't I see you in the park just now?" I asked. "Maybe." Hmmmm. Great conversationalist I thought. "Get much?" I asked, as much to shock him into conversation as anything else, but still leaving enough room for him to choose to ignore the implication if he so chose. It worked. Staring back at me, eyeing me up and down, he answered "Fifteen." Christ! What the hell did he do to get fifteen pounds? We sat in a sort of nervous silence until we finished our food, both wanting to talk but neither knowing what to say. "Live round here?" I asked in an effort to kick-start the conversation again. This time he seemed more willing to talk. "Yeah. Oakwood House." Oakwood House I recalled was a children's' home not very far away. It didn't have a very good reputation as most of the kids there, all boys, seemed to be trouble-makers of one sort or another. A few came to my school and apart from the disgusting language they used, they would steal almost anything they could lay their hands on. But this boy seemed different somehow. At least he was willing to talk -- probably. "How much did you get?" he enquired. "Ten." "Jesus! That all! What did you do?" I felt embarrassed for some reason. That's the most I ever got, and often it wasn't even that. "Nothing really. Just jerked each other off. Why? What did you do?" "Not here," he whispered across the table, "Come on, let's go outside. Gladly following him downstairs, I left my now inedible burger and joined him outside. We ambled aimlessly through the precinct chatting away almost as if we were old friends, gently feeling our way through an interesting conversation. I learned that he was about the same age as me, but quite a bit smaller and looked younger. He was originally from London, but had lived in care for almost as long as he could remember. This was his fourth or fifth home in two years (something I was to learn later wasn't at all unusual). He didn't like school very much and so didn't go all that often. No one seemed to care about this particularly; everyone was quite happy with him just as long as he didn't cause any major problems. He was `on the game' as he put it just for the money. Steve (that was the name he gave me, but I had a gut feeling it wasn't the right one) wasn't gay or anything -- he was adamant and quite firm about that -- just in it to get easy cash for his cigarettes and food. Oh, and the occasional joint. Despite the differences in our backgrounds, I found that I was beginning to like Steve. He had a sort of worldly-wise approach to life that I envied a little and he was much more independent than I could ever be. He was also very much more experienced sexually than I was I soon learned. At first also I envied him this, but after he'd told me how he'd got the fifteen pounds, I wasn't quite so sure. "He fucked me," he said matter-of-factly without feeling in response to my question. In my ignorance, and not giving it a seconds thought, I blurted out, "How?" It dawned on me just as I was asking the question. "What? Never been screwed?" Steve replied in surprise. "No. Never." I chose not to tell him about the disastrous episode with Deryck in the bushes - I didn't think that would count, and in any case I was interested in hearing what Steve had to say. "Christ! You still a virgin?" I could make no answer to this; I felt that he had put me down somehow and thought of me as a lesser person than him in some way I didn't understand. I longed to say "No, of course not," but didn't quite have the courage. We walked in silence for a few minutes and soon found ourselves drifting along the towpath by the canal, idly throwing stones in the water. "What's it like -- being fucked?" I asked, returning to our earlier conversation and ever keen to learn of new ways of experiencing sex. The more I thought about being screwed, the more I wanted it - even after remembering the pain I went through the one and only time I tried it. What he described sounded dirty, painful and disgusting. Also exhilarating, exciting and fun - and I couldn't wait to give it a go. Not in the least surprised, I noticed we both had boners. I had my hand in my pocket playing with mine; Steve was satisfied with simply re-adjusting his so it lay more comfortably. We both knew what we were doing, neither of us making a comment. "Wanna give it a try?" Steve asked out of the blue. "And he say's he's not gay!" I thought to myself. Whatever his motives, I was somewhat more than willing to give it a try. "Yeah. But where?" "Follow me." Steve obviously knew the locality better than I did, and had more than likely been here before and for much the same reason I guessed. Pushing a clump of bushes apart, we scrambled our way through the undergrowth until we were in a sort of little open space between the trees and the high wall of a railway bridge. Divesting ourselves of our trousers and pants, I was immensely impressed (wasn't I always!) by his dick. It was a little thinner than mine, and completely hairless. But it was longer. In fact it almost reached up to his belly-button. I had a lovely image of him being able to use two hands to wank with! Boy, what a turn on! "Turn round and bend over a bit," he told me. So doing, I jumped a bit when I felt something cold and sticky being smeared around my butt. Turning round to see what was happening, I saw him wiping the remainder of some Vaseline back into a small jar. "It'll help," he said, "Put your hands on your knees and brace yourself." Somewhat apprehensively I did as I was asked; feeling very nervous and yet excited at the same time. I had almost forgotten the sensation of Steve's lubricating my bum with the Vaseline when I was acutely aware of his prick gently sliding between my cheeks. I felt my own cock instantly come to life -- it gained an erection quicker than I had ever know it do before, and it was a good one, as hard as I had ever known it. Steve grasped my bum cheeks and held them apart so that he could see the target. I sensed his cock press against my bum-hole and ease forward gently. Much against my wishes, and despite all my efforts to stop it, I felt it tighten up, rejecting his advances. The harder I tried to relax, the tighter it seemed to get. "Relax," Steve said calmly, "Pretend you're having a shit -- it'll be easier." After a few seconds trying, I felt my arse relax just a bit: Steve took instant advantage and pushed himself forward enabling his cock to get just inside me. "Christ!" I shouted, "For Christ's sake, take it out!" Ignoring my pleas, Steve did nothing except stop where he was. "Wait just a few secs.," he gasped, "It'll go." Much to my relief he was right. The intense pain slowly disappeared and to my astonishment I could feel his dick inside me. I let out my breath slowly and with even more relief. "Good. That's better," he whispered and began to push forward again.This time, probably thanks to the Vaseline and my determined effort to relax as much as I could, he managed to get almost all the way inside me.The feeling was indescribable! If anyone had tried to tell me what it felt like, I would never have believed them. It was so wonderful that I forgot all the pain I had just endured and concentrated on the pleasure I was now being given. Slowly and very gently Steve began to fuck me, easing his cock back until I could sense the tip of it moving up and down my inside. I was ecstatic! Even Steve, despite his claim to `not being gay' was moaning and groaning with pleasure somewhere behind me. "Beautiful! Marvellous! Fucking brilliant!" I could hear him say with each thrust. Smiling inwardly to myself, I thought that if he is getting even half the pleasure I am, he must be delirious. By now I was so relaxed that I even tried to match his thrusts and as he pushed into me, tried to force myself back so he could penetrate even deeper. I must have been doing something right as I could hear Steve saying words to that effect from about a million miles behind me. Closing my eyes to enjoy the sensation, I became aware that my own cock was so hard it was getting painful and I was relieved when my partner stopped for a rest, reached round in front of me and started to toss me off. There have been very few occasions in my life when I have enjoyed myself sexually so much and been so happy. Even the brilliant times I had with Mick in the early days were nothing compared to what I was feeling now and I simply never wanted it to stop. Steve on the other hand, had different ideas. He must have sensed that I was about to come because he stopped masturbating me and resumed action from the rear. Unable to control myself I took over from where he'd left off and taking hold of my tool started to wank. Within three or four strokes I came in great, powerful spurts. Not only much more than I could remember having produced before, but also much harder. At exactly the same time, Steve shot his load inside me. What with the involuntary clenching of my arse cheeks and his own ejaculation, I must have sucked every last drop of spunk from within him -- much to his delight. Instead of pulling out straight away as I expected him to, Steve grabbed me round the waist and pulled me tightly to him for a few seconds before withdrawing his still semi-hard cock. My legs were trembling uncontrollably and I collapsed on the bit of grass, shaking all over. Steve followed suit and lay facing me. "Fucking brilliant!" he said, the accidentally perfectly apposite phrase not being lost on me. I still felt unable to speak and simply nodded my agreement. I don't think I could have made a move to get dressed even if I wanted to, for at least five minutes. Likewise Steve. Instead, once I was able to talk again, I informed him that I'd rather enjoyed it -- and could we do it again. Please! "Bollocks! I'm knackered!" he managed to say, actually raising a bit of a grin. Instead we lay there chatting for a bit, still with our trousers round our ankles. I learned that Steve had only done this once or twice before with `friends', although he quite liked doing it when it was for pleasure. "There's something different when you are in a toilet and being fucked by an old man for money," he explained. "I like doing it like this, when I want to," he added, "Doesn't make me fucking gay though." Ignoring the fixation he seemed to have about not being gay, I agreed with him. Whether he was gay or not, we had both enjoyed the past few minutes and that was all that really mattered as far as I was concerned. I was rapidly becoming used to the idea that I was gay, and it didn't really bother me that much -- then. What Steve thought about himself I couldn't at that stage begin to work out. I could understand why he did what he did for money: I'd been down the same road, not necessarily solely for the cash, but it did help! Personally I thought that he was gay, and assumed he denied it so often and vehemently because of the stigma it would create for himself in the environment in which he lived. I had experienced a little of it myself, and unknown to me at the time of course, was to experience a whole lot more in the not too distant future. Feeling a bit cold around my nether regions I reluctantly stood up and got dressed. Steve still sat on the ground struggled to pull his pants and trousers up. Once we were somewhat more respectable than just a little earlier, we started to walk back towards his home. We reached my bus stop and had decided that we must meet again when he confirmed my earlier thoughts. "Ring me if you like. The number's in the book. Oh, and ask for Alan!" he added grinning mischievously. Chapter Nine I paused, thinking of some of the wonderful times that Alan and I had over the next few months. As it turned out, he wasn't half as bad as the other boys who lived in the home. All the anger and bitterness he projected to those around him was a front, forced on him by his situation. I suddenly became aware of Martin's presence. Yet again I had got so wrapped up in my own story that I'd completely forgotten he was there. "Hey you - wake up!", Martin whispered in my ear, and to make sure I did, pinched the skin of my cock between his fingernails. "Sorry - I was just remembering ..." " 'S'all right. You OK now?" "Yeah. Think so anyway," I answered. "Good. Hey listen," Martin whispered, shifting his arm so he could look me straight in the face, "Have you ever - ever ..." He hesitated as if not sure what to say next. "Have you ever been fucked since?" My cock gave an involuntary twitch as I heard this; and Martin felt it under his hand. Similarly I felt his prick harden up under my fingers. Perhaps ... perhaps ...? I thought wistfully. "Only a couple of times, and that was with Steve ... Alan," I answered. "We met about half a dozen times after that and had sex each time and I got fucked twice I think. But he moved away quite suddenly last year and I haven't seen him since. They wouldn't even tell me where he'd gone when I rang the house." The conversation died for a few minutes. I was certainly thinking what it would be like for Martin to screw me. If he would that is. I still wasn't sure about his sexuality: having had so many bad experiences with other boys, I wasn't sure even now if he was taking the piss or not and I didn't want him blabbing to all the others in the house about me "trying to rape him" or something. I know that we'd tossed each other off yesterday, but this was something different and I knew that if it went wrong then I would be in deep shit with everyone. "Well? ... " he queried. "Well what?" I retorted, knowing full well what he meant but needing him to say it outright In answer he slid his pyjamas down, threw them on the floor and lay back looking at his beautifully erect cock. "OK then. What do we do?" he asked, shifting his stare to the ceiling. Satisfied with this answer, I asked if he wanted to fuck me, or me to fuck him. "Me fuck you." "OK then, just a minute, " and getting up from the bed searched for the tin of Germolene I used on myself sometimes. "Here, wipe some of this round your cock - it'll help make it go in easier." As he was doing this, I carefully spread some round the hole in my bum, even managing to work my finger inside a little to prepare it for what was about to come. In my very limited experience of being screwed, I had learned at least one thing. When Deryck and I had tried it, I had been kneeling on the ground; when Steve and me did it, I was laying on my back with my legs on his shoulders, and this seemed to be easier for us both, and certainly less painful. Telling Martin to kneel between my legs I hitched mine up onto his shoulders and arched my back slightly. "Here. Push it in - but for Christ's sake do it slowly!" Martin's face was a picture of concentration as he carefully worked himself into position. I felt the tip of his tool press against my hole as he grasped me around the hips. "Ready? " he asked, still looking worried. "Yeah. Go on." It slid in remarkably easily - the easiest yet. Perhaps it was because I was getting used to it, or perhaps it was because I was really hot for it, but whatever the reason, there was virtually no pain and Martin was in before I even knew it. Martin pushed himself as far in as he possibly could; I felt his balls against my crotch as he rested for a moment or two. Then he started. It was wonderful. He was a natural at this I thought - much better than Steve who tended to be a bit on the aggressive side sometimes. Slowly Martin eased himself in and out, each time managing to hit 'the spot', making my own by now iron-hard cock even hotter. Being the novice that he was, it was only half a dozen strokes later that he came - massively. I even felt him ejaculate inside me as he rammed down hard into my groin. I almost came in sympathy, but managed to stop it by putting my fingers on the end of my prick - I wanted to try something else in a minute if Martin was agreeable. Martin collapsed on top of me, not even having the strength to withdraw himself from deep inside my arse. "Fucking Hell! That was brilliant!" he gasped, "You OK?" "Yeah - perfect. That was a bit of allright wasn't it?" Pulling myself up the bed a little so Martin's cock slid out, I turned over onto my side pulling him over with me, and for some unknown reason kissed him on the forehead. "You were marvellous," I whispered, "Fucking marvellous!" He smiled at me, as pleased with the compliment as with the fucking he'd just given me. "Wanna try something else?" I asked. "Jesus, I'm buggered!" he replied, "I couldn't do a fucking thing." "Wait. I'll see what I can do about that," I laughed, "We have ways .... !" Flipping over on the bed, I buried my face in his groin and took his now limp cock in my mouth and caressed it with my tongue. Amazingly, considering where it had just been, it didn't have any other taste than that of sweet young boys spunk. Within a few moments, it was solidly hard again and I set to work flicking my tongue all round the circumcised head. From somewhere in the distance I could hear my partner moaning and groaning with delight. And the language was something else! Thankfully, Martin quickly cottoned on to what I was doing, and took my own boner in his warm, wet mouth. At least it stopped him talking I thought. Now it was my turn. I was just going to tell Martin that I was about to come, when my body decided to pre-empt me. I erupted straight down his throat, not giving him any chance whatsoever to avoid it. Coughing and spluttering, he almost bit my cock as he threw back his head, leaned over the side of my bed and spat the juices onto the carpet. "Fucking hell, Gareth! You could have told me!" he managed to gasp between coughs. "Sorry!" I laughed, "But didn't have time!" Joining in the laughter, he at least took it in good part and wasn't too annoyed. This time it was his turn. After laying back on the bed, breathing deeply, he leaned over and kissed my softly on the lips. "Lovely." was his only word. We lay in each others arms for ages without speaking, both perfectly comfortable and at ease with each other. It had been absolutely ages since I had enjoyed anything but solo sex, and I was more than ready for it - readier even that I realised. And being Martin's first time (as far as I knew), he was over the moon. Glancing at the clock I saw that it was almost two thirty in the morning and I reluctantly informed Martin of this, stirring him from his almost asleep state. "Bloody hell! I don't wanna move," he sighed, "Let's stay here all night." "Bollocks!" I whispered, smiling, "What happens if someone goes into your room, or even comes in here?" "You're right I suppose," he conceded, "Oh, well ..." Still half asleep he got off the bed, searched for his long-forgotten pyjamas and put them on. "See you tomorrow?" he grinned. "Yeah, if you want," I replied. "Repeat performance?" "You betcha!" Martin whispered as he kissed me gently on the lips. "Oh, and by the way, don't you fucking dare write about this in your life story!" he added as he unlocked the door and headed for his own room. Supremely happy and content with life, I lay back and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of all the things to come - in more ways than one! Chapter 10 Over the next few days I managed to add some more pages to my 'diary'. Despite my initial reluctance to do as I had been asked, I found that I was actually enjoying the exercise. Not only did it bring back to life some of the happier times I'd had, but it also gave me a semi-permanent erection! I would sometimes even find myself drifting off into a dream world at school, recollecting events and working out how I could put them into my story. This habit I'd developed got me into more trouble at school, but by now most of the staff had written me off as a waster, and as long as I didn't cause them any bother they were content enough to leave me alone for the most part. For various reasons, Martin wasn't able to pay me any nocturnal visits for a few days and so I had to content myself by dividing my time between writing and wanking - and roughly in equal parts! It must have been about Thursday when Martin and I found ourselves alone in the house for the first time that week, and able to talk fairly freely for the first time in ages. "Written any more?" he asked, "Can I read it?" Surprisingly I found that I was secretly pleased that Martin was interested enough to want to read some more of my efforts and was more that happy to retrieve my latest efforts from their hiding place. "Take 'em upstairs and read 'em," I whispered, "Don't want anyone else to know about them. Give them back to me later." Jesus! I found that I had got yet another erection, just by thinking about Martin reading some of the things that I'd written about myself. And as usual I needed to relieve myself in the traditional manner once again. Hurriedly I went into the bathroom, and after carefully locking the door, dropped my pants and trousers to the floor and sat on the toilet, leaning back against the wall and thinking about what Martin was now reading. Idly I played with my erection as I reminisced. Chapter 11 Having lost touch with Alan, and missing any sort of excitement in my life, I began to search for other places to explore. We lived in a fairly small town at the time, and one thing which pissed me off in this direction was the lack of places to go and try to find some 'excitement'. For about the tenth time I was wandering fairly aimlessly about the place, desperately trying to think of somewhere to go when I felt that I wanted a piss, and for once needed to find a toilet and use it for the purpose for which it was intended! It's amazing how in times of desperation, one's mind seems to change gear and actually produce some useful thoughts. "The railway station!" The thought hit me like a thunderbolt, now that the need to find a place to go was getting urgent, "Why the hell didn't I think of that before!" Luckily, it was only a hundred yards or so away and so soon found myself in the enormous entrance hall. I had only been in the station a few times before and so wasn't quite sure where the toilets were. In a somewhat desperate state by now, I asked the man collecting tickets where they were. "Platform 1," he replied, without taking his eyes from the newspaper he was reading. Gratefully I ran down the stairs and through the tunnel which ran underneath the railway lines. Dashing up the steps on the other side, I ran into the toilet, unfastening my zip as I entered. With more than a bit of relief, I watched as the pressured stream of my piss steamed its way into the urinal. I sighed with pleasure as the pressure on my bladder dropped and stared down at the eddy of urine disappearing down the hole. "You needed that, by the sound of it!" I heard a voice say. In my hurry to relieve myself, for once I hadn't even bothered to look around the room to see if anyone else was in there. Glancing round to my left I saw a man of about 40 standing at the urinal, not, I noticed, having a piss. He was just standing there, holding his limp cock in his hand. Automatically I looked down at it before I remembered where I was and in some embarrassment looked away and stared at the wall in front of me. I'd finished my piss by now and was now thinking a little clearer. "Perhaps ....... ?" I carefully slid my eyes towards the man and looked at him more closely now. He was obviously well-off as he was wearing a suit and tie, and I could even smell his after-shave from where I was stood - and he was quite good looking as well. Once again I looked at his cock. It had visibly hardened, and although by no means fully erect, it was well on the way. And so was mine. The instant I saw his prick, I felt the usually stirring down below, and involuntarily took a step forward in an attempt to hide it. "That's a nice one," he whispered, taking a step sideways at the same time, "Can I have a look at it?" Not daring to look at him, I continued staring at my rapidly forming erection and took a step closer to him. My heart was racing as I heard him whistle softly to himself. "Beautiful. Beautiful!" he whispered. "Can I feel it?" Not believing my luck, I nodded at him and without bothering to fasten my trousers went into a vacant cubicle, leaving the door open behind me. Quickly the stranger followed me in and secured the door behind him. Without waiting for anything else, he gently took hold of my cock and felt it gently. His touch was magical. It had been ages since I had had any 'fun' and I'd missed it. He had a wonderfully soft and caressing sort of touch and my cock responded magnificently to it. Delicately I took hold of his cock and returned the favour. His cock was by now just as rock-hard as mine, and, I was pleased to note, wasn't all that much bigger than mine. Feeling the need to say something, I said that his was nice as well. Sounded a bit lame, I know, but that's what I said. "Done this sort of thing before?" he asked as he started to toss me off. Having been asked this question more times than I care to remember, I answered as usual, "No. Never." I could feel his cock stir under my hand as he heard what he obviously wanted to hear. "Marvellous!" he moaned. We messed about like this for a good five minutes before we both came together. I know that he had enjoyed himself, but what amazed me was that so had I - more than I usually did in these circumstances. Slowly and carefully we dressed ourselves, making as little noise as possible. He had put his hand in his inside pocket as was about to give me a ten pound note when he stopped as an idea struck him. "Do you want to come back to my place?" he whispered, his nervousness making his voice tremble, "I've got a car outside." For a split second I thought about it. "Yeah. OK, if you want." I said quietly. The man, not believing his luck, quickly returned the note to his pocket and told me to wait a couple of minutes before meeting him in the station car park. "It's a black Jaguar," were his final words as he left the cubicle. And so it was. A new one. Christ! He must be loaded I thought as I climbed in the front and fastened my seat belt. The smell of his after-shave combined with the smell of the new leather was strangely erotic and that, together with the thoughts of what I was doing gave me another erection. This time, however, I made no attempt to hide it from my new conquest. Within a few minutes we had left most of the town behind and were driving along a street of very large and expensive houses, one of which he smoothly turned in to. As he did so, the garage door opened automatically and he slid the car into it, drawing to a gentle stop. "Come on, this way." he smiled at me, "We'll go in the back way." Leaving the garage by the back door, we went into a fantastic back garden, complete with swimming pool and sauna. My face must have shown my surprise at the sight as he suddenly said, "Ever had a sauna?" "No, never," I replied, still getting over the shock of such obvious luxury. "Come on then, let's go." Warily, I looked around the garden to see if we could be overlooked by any of the neighbours, but fortunately his enormous garden was surrounded by a high hedge and tall trees - there was no chance of anyone overlooking the pool or garden. "Oh, by the way, my name's Phil." my new friend smiled at me, "And don't worry, we can't be seen by anyone. I've taken great care of that as I like to swim nude in the summer time." "I'm Gareth. Hiya!", I returned, smiling at him, and rather stupidly extended my hand for him to shake. "Hello, Gareth," he replied, flashing that beautiful smile at me. " Come on, in here." We stepped into a medium-sized wooden shed sort of building, inside of which were three or four wooden bunk sort of benches. In the middle of the room was a big round thing full of smooth, black rocks. Phil explained how the thing worked and added that it wouldn't take long to warm up. Phil turned to a sort of control panel thing on the wall, played a few controls and within a couple of minutes the small room was getting hotter and filling with steam. "Come on, we might as well go and get undressed. It'll get most uncomfortable if we don't!" I didn't completely understand what he meant, but like a lamb, followed him out of the sauna and through the French windows into the house. Still tagging along behind, we climbed the stairs and entered his bedroom. Without a word he turned his back on me and started to get undressed. Still a little embarrassed at the situation I had found myself in, I very slowly started to take off my shirt. Apart from anything else, the thought suddenly struck me that I had never actually been naked in front of a man before - apart from Mick of course, and that didn't seem the same somehow. I also had a hard-on, caused partly by the sight of Phil, who by now was completely stripped, and partly because of the sense of anticipation of things to come. Phil must have somehow sensed what I was feeling because he threw a dressing gown over to me and said I might like to put it on. Gratefully I did as I was told, wrapping it around me before I took off my trousers and pants. Returning to the sauna, I was amazed to find how warm and steamy it had become in just the few minutes we had been away. It was stiflingly hot and I could only breath with great difficulty. Phil, on the other hand seemed not to mind at all - the temperature and humidity seemingly having no effect on him at all. Seeing my discomfort, Phil smiled at me and said that he was sorry. He was used to the sauna being as it was and had forgotten that I was totally new to the experience. "Hold on, I'll turn it down a bit," he said, much to my relief. Lazily, he lay on one of the benches and stretched out, indicating that I should do the same. Choosing the one on the other side of the cabin, I lay on my back, arms under my head and staring at the ceiling absorbing the atmosphere, Feeling a lot more relaxed now, I turned my head to look at Phil and saw that he had taken his dressing gown off and was seemingly dozing. I felt a familiar stirring in my groin at this sight and copying Phil's example, unfastening the belt of my dressing gown, let it fall open. Without moving my head, I peered down at my cock and was delighted to find that I could just see the tip of it above my tummy. Forgetting where I was for a second, I amused myself by making it twitch a little, making it appear and disappear from my sight. Then I remembered Phil. Turning my head to one side, I looked at him. His body was beautiful. Not muscular, but not thin either. He had a few hairs on his chest, but not that many. Not as many as Mick had anyway. His prick, I was saddened to notice, wasn't hard. At least I couldn't see it, and so assumed it was still soft. Sliding myself up the bench a bit, I lifted my head up and rested it on the wall. Now I could see his tool. Just like Phil, it was nice looking, even in its present state. Mentally, I compared it with my own, much smaller version and hoped that mine would grow to look just like his. As I was thinking these delicious thoughts, I saw his cock begin to come to life. I watched, fascinated, as it slowly got bigger and bigger, harder and harder. Soon it was standing perfectly upright and looking even better than before. I longed desperately to feel it, to hold it and to play with it. And I wanted just as desperately for Phil to play with mine. I was just wondering how I could arrange this when Phil turned over to face me. "Want to share a bench?" he whispered hoarsely at me, "You can if you like." Nodding in assent, I climbed down, dropped my gown on the floor and joined Phil. To make enough room for me, he turned fully on his side and lay with his back against the wall. There was just enough room for the two of us, provided that I put an arm round and hugged him tightly - naturally I didn't object to that in the slightest. At that moment, I was ecstatic! The feeling I had of my whole body pressed tightly against his was magical! Closing my eyes, I concentrated with all my mind on the sensation, revelling in pure enjoyment. I was dimly aware of Phil sliding a hand down between us, taking hold of my prick and superbly caressing it, moving his fingers gently all round my cock and balls. I almost fainted with pleasure - I had never felt quite like this before, and I wanted it to go on for ever. Feeling him let go of me for a moment, I opened my eyes and found myself looking straight into his. He wasn't smiling any more; instead he was looking deadly serious. "You all right?" he whispered. "Yes. Fine. You?" "Never better. I just can't believe that you are here, that's all." As much to my surprise as his, I suddenly found myself kissing him on the lips. Shocked at myself, I pulled back. "Ssssorry!" I managed to stumble out, " I didn't mean ....." He silenced me with a finger to my lips. "Hey, I don't mind. Rather liked it in fact!" and with that kissed me back. That seemed to be the signal that all was OK between us, and we both relaxed in each others arms. I had been with men before of course, more in fact than I could remember. But they had almost all been quick gropes followed by hurried jerk-offs, a sordid handing over of money and a rapid separation. This was different. Phil and I seemed to have taken an intense and deep liking for each other, even on this short acquaintance. The next timeless age we spent exploring each other with an intensity and passion that I had never experienced before. No, not even with Mike. We kissed, cuddled, fondled and caressed each other with a passion I for one didn't know I had. Even after we had both come, covering ourselves with each others juices, we didn't stop. It was only when we both realised that it had become dark outside that we reluctantly brought a melancholy end to our pleasures. It was in a somewhat better spirit that we chatted easily as I was driven back towards home. Nothing was said about the past hours we had spent together. There was no need to as we both realised that it wasn't going to be the last. In fact we met regularly and frequently over the next weeks, agreeing to meet at the place we had first got together - the railway station. During our times together we both learned a great deal: not only about one another, but how we could delight and pleasure each other. Not once did he cause me any pain or grief, not even when he fucked me for the first time. It was wonderful. And it was even better when I fucked him. For once my life seemed to be easy and happy. I had no worries of any consequence, I had a friend who cared for me and even my school work improved enough to keep me out of trouble. Life was perfect. Until, that is, that fateful day. I can't even remember the date now - all I know is that it was a Thursday I will never forget. I had been with Phil the evening before, and was keenly waiting until the week-end when I was intending to spend the whole of Saturday with him. I was smiling to myself in excited anticipation of the week-end as I turned the key in my front door and went in. "That you Gareth?" I heard mum shout from the living room. I knew instantly something was wrong. Seriously wrong. "Come here will you?" Sat around the dining table was my mother and two strangers. On the table in front of them was a pile of official-looking papers, which were hurriedly turned over as I approached them. The next hour was the most awful of my life. Apparently one of Phil's neighbours had seen me going into his house rather a lot and had become so suspicious that she had told the Police. Unknown to either me or Phil they had watched us both for days, and they had actually arrested him on his way back home after he had dropped me off last night. They never actually asked what we had been doing, it was all inferences and indirect sort of questions. But I knew what they were getting al all right, and I wasn't going to help them if I could help it. Even when they said that I wasn't the first boy he'd "been friendly" with as they put it, I didn't care. I knew that I was the best, the one he liked the most, and anyway, he was my best friend. I was taken away from home that night and spent the next couple of weeks in a special sort of home - an assessment centre they called it. I was given all sorts of tests and medical examinations, none of which I cared a shit about. The only time I got really pissed off was when a doctor tried to put his finger up me. It hurt, surprisingly enough, knowing what had been there before. But it did, and I told the doctor so in no uncertain terms just before I smacked him on the mouth. That was it. From then on I never went home again. I was told that mum didn't want me anymore, and that in any case I would be better off "where someone can take care of me." The only good thing which came out of it was that I learned from one of the very few letters mum wrote to me that Phil wasn't charged as they couldn't prove anything. He did, however, move away and I never heard from him again. javu35@yahoo.co.uk