Date: Wed, 2 Aug 2017 18:24:40 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Lion-King Chapter 1 Lion-King by badboi666 =============================================================================== 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 14-year-olds then make yourself comfortable - you're in the right place. Don't leave, however, without doing this: Donate to Nifty - these buggers may do it for love but they still have to eat. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html =============================================================================== Chapter 1 The last few days have been the most upsetting I can remember. Two days ago they told us that Leo's treatment hadn't worked and that he had, at most, only two or three weeks to live. The consultant was very sweet, another gay boy like us. We'd been in and out of his hands so often - no, let me rephrase that - he had seen Leo so often, mostly with me there as well, that he felt easy in our company, and we felt easy in his. Leo was expecting this news - after all, they'd said a month ago that the treatment was experimental. Leo was up for it, although he did say to me that he didn't think he would benefit. "All the same, others will, I'm sure." Brave old Leo! Anyway, the consultant said that prostate cancer was a bugger - sometimes it stayed happily where it was for years, and sometimes it flared up and got you. Leo and I grinned - we had long ago accepted that the macabre sense of humour that had originally attracted us would see us through most things. And Leo's cancer was no exception. After we left Leo pointed out that it was only appropriate that the last thing up his arse would indeed be a bugger. I'm making it sound as though we weren't devastated - we were, but then again, when you're both in your 80s the spectre of death isn't altogether unfamiliar. When we got home we sat on the sofa holding hands. Leo said he wanted to die here, at home. I said I would make sure that they didn't cart him off somewhere, and he kissed me gently. "I know you won't let them take me away. Just be here for me at the end." We had often discussed how we would deal with impending death - like most married couples, I guess. We had all the usual stuff - living wills, power of attorney - and we'd agreed how we'd deal with the situation we now faced. We called it 'Plan D'. The agreement was that whoever it was that was dying would tell the other that Plan D was now in operation. This had all happened over 40 years ago, and every year, on the day we first met, we spent 20 minutes reviewing the agreement. We had done so only a few weeks ago. Now it might have to be put into practice. I'm rambling a bit, I know. I'll try to stay focused. Leo's been OK since then. He was always calm, and he's accepted that he's going to die very soon. He spent yesterday writing a list of the things he has to do while he still can - mainly seeing old friends for the last time, seeing a view, drinking a glass, eating - not that he does much of that any more. He's not in much pain, and the drugs they've given him seem to keep it manageable. Poor old bugger! We've been together for 45 years now. We met at the first Gay Pride rally on 1 July 1972. We've often wondered how many other gay couples met that day, and whether any of them are still together decades later. I was in my early 40s. I found myself beside this nice guy a bit younger than me. We got chatting as we marched and he told me it was his birthday - he was 40 that day. "This calls for a celebration," I said, and one thing led to another. It was a Saturday, I remember, and for the first - and last - time in my life I - we - spent an entire Sunday in bed. Well, we got up to piss, and to grab some food from the frig, but apart from that it was a day of unremitting fucking. And us in our 40s! Things quietened down a bit after that. He moved in the next weekend. I had my business to run, so it wasn't practical for me to move, what with the yard and everything, but Leo had an office job so he could commute from my place just as easily as he could from his flat in London. He ended up selling it for an absolute fortune. We bought a little flat for holidays and still had piles to spare. We've lived here for nearly 30 years now. By then two men living together didn't attract much attention - we were probably known as 'the queer couple' (or, by those more politically correct, 'the gay couple') with the same degree of censure as if we had been 'the Welsh couple'. In other words, none. We entered into (a usage which caused us both to smile) a civil partnership and traded up for a proper marriage a few years ago. From Day One (that famous Sunday) to today, with one exception, each of us has been wholly monogamous and faithful. The exception, and it's a big one or, to be precise, a whole series of big ones, is our houseboy. Houseboys would be more accurate. The 'little flat' we bought for holidays was in Tangier, deliberately chosen because Leo, like me, was attracted to boys. Each of us accepted, that Sunday, that other men were off the menu: we had each other. But boys - ah! boys. They were different. I'd been keen on boys as long as I could remember, and one in particular had filled my horizon. That was long before I met Leo, and since then I'd been too frightened and too vulnerable to risk another relationship with a boy. Leo put a stop to such silliness. "Don't be such a drip," he said, "we'll buy a place in Tangier where the boys are like ripe figs. No-one'll know." And so we did. Each summer we spent a month in Tangier, and each summer we employed a houseboy to look after us. And each summer we left Tangier after a month of satisfying sex with a boy (and with each other of course), and left a boy considerably richer in money and experience. Sometimes we employed the same boy for a second year, but since the age of the boy was important to both of us that didn't happen very often. Why am I telling you all this? I'm getting way off the subject again. As if Leo's news wasn't upsetting enough I had the most strange half hour yesterday. One of the other gays in the village - remember when that was funny the first time? - phoned me up to say that he had stumbled on something which he thought I ought to see. "Is it important?" I said, "Leo's my top priority at the moment." Jason - that's his name - said that he wasn't sure. It might be nothing or it might be the most important thing in my life. "That's hardly likely," I retorted. "Well, let me explain. Can we meet in the Feathers at 6?" Since Leo liked to sit in the Feathers in the early evening I agreed. "I'll be with Leo, of course." "Good," said Jason, "it might concern him too." Well, you can imagine I was interested. Jason can be a bit too easily excited, but this time he sounded worried. When we got to the Feathers Jason had got a round in - he's known us long enough to know what we like. He had a few sheets of paper with him. "Well?" I said. "There's a web site with erotic stories on it - gay ones, mostly - and I like to read it of an evening." (I'll bet, I thought, good wank material no doubt.) "There's a section for stories about sex between adults and boys, and as you know, that's an area where I have an interest." (Indeed I knew: it was an interest Leo and I had shared for many a long year with many a boy.) "I was reading a story - quite a lengthy one - and when I got to the end last night it was as though I'd been hit by lightning." The pause for effect required me to urge him to continue. "Go on, Jason, don't keep us waiting." "Well, it was about you." "What d'you mean, it was about me? How can it have been?" And then he started to explain. He showed me the first chapter and the last page of the last chapter. "Isn't that you? The date's right and that's what happened, isn't it?" I couldn't speak. I read the pages he'd brought. "Can I keep these? Is there much more? Can I see the rest of it?" So many questions. Jason knew that we didn't have a computer - in fact it was that which set us apart from the rest of the village, rather than our sexuality. That didn't bother them at all. "Come round tomorrow morning and I'll have the whole thing printed off by then. It runs to 250-odd pages." "And it's all about me?" "No, not all of it. Just the last few chapters." Leo, silent until now, turned to me and said, "Look, you've got to sort this out. How the hell can I go to my grave while you've got this weird thing going on. Get on with it; there isn't too much time." So, as I say, the last few days have been upsetting. I don't suppose I'll get much sleep tonight, what with Leo and seeing Jason tomorrow. What can it all mean? It's all too far-fetched. Maybe Jason's playing a trick ... but he's not mean, so whatever it is, he believes it. Oh fuck! I thought that awful night was buried deep enough. I've spent 60 years living with it. I know I've been a bit incoherent, so I'll try to set it out calmly. Why not start at the beginning, eh? ***** My name is Rex Perry. I was born on 20 August 1929 fifteen minutes after my twin brother Adam. =============================================================================== To be continued ...