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


Anyone wishing to contact me can do so at All emails will be answered.


Other stories on Nifty by J.T.S.Teller. Boys can be lovers, too.


All rights reserved. All parts of these documents are Copyright 2010 John T. S. Teller, and may not be reproduced in any form without the author's consent. have permission to reproduce it on their website.  


Jimmy the Love-Virus. 


By John T. S. Teller.  


Part three.  


Friday morning. Eight-fifteen. I need a piss. I'm so tired that I almost fall on the floor when I get out of bed, regain my balance, and stagger to the bathroom. As I'm relieving myself, a thought hits me like a sledgehammer... I've missed Jimmy. The paper! Blimey! He said he would be putting a note with it. Is Debbie already here? The texts last night. Oh my God! I can't stop pissing, but neither can I be bothered about the few drips that soak the front of my boxers as I flop Old-Faithful-Down-There back into his hidey-hole and dash downstairs to the front door. The paper is in the porch, so I pick it up, and, yes, an envelope is attached. I collect Celtic from the drawer and go back to my bedroom where I'm safe. Debbie never enters this domain if I'm in residence. We have our own code: the bedroom is out of bounds if my wallet is in the kitchen and I'm not to be found elsewhere about the house. Carefully, I open the letter. Same notepaper: same schoolboy handwriting.


Dear Rob. I think you like me but I'm not sure. It was great texting you last night. I feel daft because you might think I'm stupid, but I want you to know that I want to be friends with you. I wanted to tell you all this when we came to your house, but with Sam being there and me being very shy, I couldn't. Sorry. I'm pretty angry with myself because when Sam said we were going to your place with the paper, I was planning all sorts of things to say to you, but when we got there, I was hopeless. I'm hoping I don't see you this morning because I won't know what to do. Right, that's it. I'm going to spend all day worrying that I've made a fool of myself. I might not post this letter, but if you get it, you'll know I've plucked up curridge.  Luv Jimmy. XXX


PS. Please don't tell anybody about any of this. Please. XXX


`Curridge.' A spelling error. Naughty boy.


I hear the front door click shut. Debbie's arrived. The letter has hit me hard; so much so that, although I'm ecstatic with the contents, I'm worried that Jimmy is worried. My Virus has been a brave lad to write that. If he was wrong in his thinking about me really liking him, it opens him up to so much shit, that he'll never be able to look me in the face again. But he's taken that chance, and I'm proud of him, and, more important, I'm not going to let him go all day worrying if I can help it. I look at my alarm clock: 8.25. Will he have finished his papers? Does he have his mobile on him? It's worth a try. My mobile is in the kitchen, on charge, so I pull on a dressing gown and go down to get it. Debbie's there. "Morning, Debs."


"Morning, Rob. You been drinking?"


"No. What makes you say that?"


"You look rough. Anybody with you?"


"No. I was working until twelve-thirty last night. I just couldn't stop."


"I suspected you might work late. You were well into it when I left. Did it go well?"


"Brilliant. I haven't been on form like that for ages, and I didn't want to lose the rhythm."


"What's this one about then?"


"Bugger off. You know I never tell anybody that. It might be about you."


"Haha. I could tell you some stories that would shock that wavy hair of yours. You could call it, Social-Housing Floozy on the Rampage."


I giggle. "I don't want to know. Just clean the bloody dishes."


She laughs. "Yes, Boss. I your lady cleaner, Boss."


I leave her cleaning the room, return to the bedroom, and text Jimmy. It's raining slightly, so that gives me an out as to what to say. I hope he understands cryptic.


Oi! Note wet! But dont worry all day about it. I feel same way. Txt me at 7 tonight. Luv. Rob. XXX


I put the phone down on the dressing table, and make plans. If I don't get a reply quickly, I'll bloody well get the car out and try to catch him before he gets to school. I'm slipping on my jeans when a text comes in. One leg in and one leg out, I dash to the dressing table. It's from VIRUS. Thank God for that.


Im happy. Will do. Luv Jimmy. XXX


For the first time, I admit it to myself - I'm in love with a sixteen-year-old boy, and, what's more, I don't give a damn about it. Maybe Jimmy just wants friendship. That's fine. Well, maybe not. I want to take him to bed, but it won't happen if Jimmy isn't like me. I'm not into grooming straight guys. This Virus is ok, but it is making me tired. I shout to Debbie that I'm going back to bed, and I hear her reply that she won't disturb me. I lie in bed, imagining Jimmy, naked, next to me.


I stroke his blonde hair, and run my fingers down his cheeks until they reach his full lips, and I pull them open and stroke his white, even teeth. Those beautiful blue eyes are staring into mine. My own lips are drawn to his like a magnet, and we kiss, softly, and he purrs, as our tongues play games. I roll on top of him and he lifts his knees to his chest. He's got hold of my manhood, and guides it to his sweet rosebud, and when I press, it slips in easily, and to its depth. His arms lock around my head, and he kisses me passionately, and I begin to thrust into him. In just a few strokes, my love-juices squirt deep inside him, and he thrashes about in the ecstasy of the moment, and his own love-juices spatter along the length of his upper body.


It's twelve-thirty when I wake. That bloody mobile again. It's mum. I mellow, and instead of ignoring her or texting her back, I sit on the edge of the bed and ring her. "Hi, Mum. How are you? How's dad?"


"Hello, Rob. Good to hear from you again. I texted you yesterday, but you must have been busy. (Good old mum. She always makes excuses for me. Always does; I'm her special boy.) We're fine. We go to Monaco tomorrow for fifteen days, you know."


Damn. I'd forgotten. I lie. "Yes, I know Mum. I've tried desperately to make some time to get to see you before you go, but Clive Borthwick has been giving me grief, and I've had to work like a slave to keep up with his demands. Sometimes, I wish I'd never started this writing lark. My life isn't my own any more. I need a break. I really do, and I'm going to take one after I've finished the book I'm on now." Although I'm laying it on, I'm serious. Once in a while, I enjoy getting away from the writing. My parents' house is a nice country cottage in the Peak District, an up-market move from their semi-detached in suburbia. The move was funded out of my book sales. Well, the royalties pay the mortgage. I love both my parents.


"Don't worry, Rob. We'll see you when we get back. Your father would like a chat before we go, though. He misses you."


"I know, Mum. I'll tell you what. I'm off to London tomorrow, so I'll ring you both this evening, about six, and we can have a good chat. How does that sound?"


"It sounds good. I'll tell Dad when he gets home. You won't forget, will you?"


"No, Mum. In fact, I'll write a note now, and stick it on the computer. A text has just come in, so I'll have to ring off. I'll speak to you at Six. Love you, Mum."


"Love you too, Son. Be good now. Bye."


"Bye, Mum."


The text is from VIRUS. It must be lunch hour at school.


VIRUS: Playing cricket for skool at park at 2 with sam. U want 2 c us? XXX


Me: Not sure. Old man watching boys. Might think im pervert. *smiley face*


VIRUS: *smiley face* Please. *smiley face*


Me: OK. Ill b there like pervert. *smiley face*


VIRUS: *smiley face*. U can cum in changing room after if u want 2. *winkey face*


(Before I have chance to answer, another text arrives.)


VIRUS: I ment come. Haha. Sorry. XXX *smiley face smiley face*


Me: Haha. Go away. C u at 2. Luv. XXX


I can't stop giggling, as I eat the salad lunch Debbie's left me in the fridge. Cum indeed! Haha. At least my Virus is street-wise, sex-wise. I'm late. It's two-twenty when I open the garage doors with the remote, and drive to the park. This car is my only pretentious possession. I wear the usual good gear, and a Rolex, and a gold chain around my neck that cost three grand, but for a man of my status, I'm not overly blingish. I like to think that my good looks and build give me a head start, without having to look like a successful pimp out of the West End. Maybe my car helps a teeny-weeny bit. Well, it turns heads, and it makes the local boys a tad jealous in their aerodynamic, highly tuned Peugeot 360's, as I leave them almost standing, as I accelerate from 0 to 60 in just over 4 seconds in my Rossa Corsa Ferrari 360 Modena Coupe. And it turns heads, as I pull onto the car park at the local park just about fifty yards from where Virus's team is playing. This is fun. I change out of my Gucci shoes into a pair of Timberland Nubucks, and saunter over to watch the game, deliberately keeping well away from other adults. Virus is fielding, but he's across the other side of the pitch. Sam is fielding near me, and when the opposition player hits a good ball out near to where I'm standing, he runs across to get it, throws it in, grins at me, and yells, "What are you doing here, Rob?"


"I was just passing. How's it going?"


"They're six wickets down already. I think they've scored about thirty runs. I'm bowling next."


"Get on with it then!"


This isn't a game played in whites: most of the lads are wearing football tops and shorts. It takes Jimmy and Sam's team another four overs before the opposition is out (if Sam is right) for forty-six. I'm wondering if Jimmy is a decent player, when he walks onto the pitch as one of the opening batsmen, and I'm desperate for him to do well. He's taking strike, and deals with the first ball defensively, and easily. He hits the second ball smack in the middle of the bat, and it's a four. Well done, Jimmy! The next ball is treated exactly the same. I'm impressed. He may look younger than some of his mates, but there's no doubting the power in his small, muscular frame. He takes a quick single off the next ball, looks over at me, and I reward him with a wink. His partner is out next ball. Sam takes his place, and he's into his stride right away, and takes two runs from the last ball of the over. Jimmy's taking strike again, this time against a tall, ginger haired lad, who's at least six feet tall, and he hurtles one down that bounces and catches Jimmy in the ribs. I'm expecting him to fall to the floor in pain. He does no such thing; he just walks along the pitch and taps the spot where the tall guy made the ball bounce. Now I'm really impressed; even more so when Jimmy lashes the next ball for a six, and then points a threatening finger at the bowler. There's little doubt what he's saying: don't mess with a Turner, boy!


Sam and Jimmy knock off the rest of the runs between them, and the game is over. I'm proud of my two boys. Yes, they might be Social-Housing dwellers, but they're my Social-Housing dwellers, and when they both walk across to me after the game, I tell them that they took their time knocking the runs off. They both laugh. Virus is a bit sheepish, not knowing what to say. I put his mind at ease when I smile directly into his sparkling blue eyes. "Well played, but keep off my bloody lawn or I'll kick your arse. (I turn to Sam.) And well played, Sam."


Sam laughs. "Mum said you'd given him a rollicking. We'd better go. See you, Rob." He turns, and walks away.


Jimmy hesitates, and then gives me a beautiful grin. "Thanks for coming. I'll text you at seven." Before I can answer, he's gone... and I'm disappointed.


Friday evening. I've been on the phone for thirty minutes, chatting to Mum and Dad, but now I need to get ready, because I have a date at eight with Kathleen Pretty. Lovely name, and it suits her. I met her at Uni, and she's head buyer for a major chain of clothes retailers now. She's lovely in bed, too, and I'm hoping she'll stay over. It won't happen if she's on her bad week, so I calculate when the last time was that she had her period. She finished two weeks ago. I'm ok. Goody, goody. Old-Faithful-Down-There will enjoy himself tonight. We're eating Italian, so I select a dress shirt, tie to match, and am just taking out a suit, when... Beep. Beep. Diddly dah do dah.


VIRUS: U ok with letter?


Me: Yes. We both feel same way. I'd like 2 b friends 2.


VIRUS: That cricket was 4 u.


Me: *smiley face* 4 a perv? *smiley face* U tuf guy.


VIRUS: Not inside.


Me: Me neither. Like chewy mint. Wot r u? *winkey face*


VIRUS: I like chewy mints. *winkey face* Im a fizzy lollypop. *smiley face*


ME: *smiley face smiley face* I won't say what Im thinking. *smiley face*


VIRUS: Y? *smiley face*


Me: Work it out. Wot do u do with lollypop? *winkey face*


VIRUS: Hahahahaha. Thought u was in2 girls.


ME: Got a date with that ginger boy who bowled at u. *winkey face*


VIRUS: Ill knock his block off if he cums hahahaha near u. *smiley face*


Me: Comes! Haha. Good job im seeing kath then. *winkey face*


VIRUS: Ok. Wll txt u tomorrow nite. That ok?


Me: Looking 4ward 2 it. Take care. Nite. XXX


VIRUS: Nite. Thnks 4 being frend. Luv u. XXX


Me: Nite. Luv u. XXX


I'm meeting Kathleen at Gianno's, a posh Italian just off the high Street, and I'll be drinking tonight, so I order a taxi. Akhtar arrives at seven fifty, and drops me off at eight. Kath hasn't arrived yet, so I order a small beer to last me until she does. My date arrives. Gianno takes her coat, and leads her to our table. I get up and kiss her on the cheek. God, she smells lovely! The meal is excellent: the company is wonderful. We chat and flirt throughout the meal, and the fine wine heightens our sexual tensions. When the taxi picks us up at eleven fifteen, we both know that tonight is going to be a success. And it is. Kathleen is on a par with me... she enjoys sex immensely. By the time we drift off to sleep at two in the early hours, there isn't a part of our bodies that is not tingling from stimulation and satisfaction. Oh yes, Kathleen and I are very compatible. Well, Old-Faithful-Down-There thinks so. He sleeps well tonight, and even has a bonus, as we perform a short, but hectic fuck when we wake at nine. I take Kath home, and, when I get back, I sort out the computer for Jimmy, and put it and all the accessories in the garage. I've explained all to Debs, so he can pick it up any time while I'm away. I hope he does a good job on the car. Akhtar picks me up, and, on the way to the station, I explain the arrangements with Jimmy and the computer, and that I'll settle up with him when I get back, if Jimmy uses him. The train is on time, and I'm settled and working on my laptop when I realise that I've left my mobile phone at home.


Blast and damn and shit! I can get over most of the problems, because I have all the details of my contacts in the address book on this laptop, but the most important one of all at the moment, Jimmy's, I don't have. How the hell can I get over this?


To be continued...



Other stories on Nifty by J.T.S.Teller: Boys can be lovers, too.