Date: Sun, 11 Jan 2009 14:12:20 -0800 (PST) From: John Venn Subject: London Street Boy - Part 1 of 2 Disclaimer: This story contains scenes of a sexual nature between a man and boy. If this is not to your taste, or is illegal where you live, or you find it morally offensive, then read no further and leave now!! The story is purely imaginary and bears no resemblance to any living person or persons as far as I know, much as you or I might wish! Comments are always welcome at johnvenn1945@yahoo.co.uk ************************************************** Street Boy b/b, t/m, t/m by Alexander I used to be a Rent Boy up 'till two months ago, maybe I still am, I don't know, but I hope not. For the past eight weeks I have been living with Andrew in Camberwell (For those that don't know, Camberwell is a suburb of London south of the Thames). He gives me money each week as well as food and a bed. We also have sex together a few times as well. It's not like being a rent boy at all and so as far as I am concerned, I'm not. Renters earn a few pounds by having sex with men wherever and whenever they want, spend the loot on booze, cigarettes and drugs and then go out and earn some more. I've been there, seen it and done it - but no more, I've stopped all that. Sometimes Andrew calls me his Ganymede in fun and he tells me that it is the name given to boys who get paid for sex, but not like rent boys. They live with the man who pays for them, but it isn't just the sex that they want, it's the company and the caring for each other as well. Another word is catamite: I don't understand all the differences, but Andrew is a writer and he should know, and that is enough for me. I'll get round to telling you how we met a bit later on. What he wants me to do is to write what it is like being someone like me, and the sort of things I have had to do. When I told him that I hardly ever went to school and I couldn't write to save my life, he said that was OK, I should try my best, start at the beginning and take it from there. He even gave me a little pc to help with spelling and so on. I will try to write a bit each day in between tidying our flat, washing up, making the beds and so on. So, here we go. How It All Started. My mother left us when I was twelve years old. I don't know why, or where she went; the first I knew about it was when I got home early one evening. I'd bunked off school and had got home at the proper time and so we could at least pretend I'd been to school. She wasn't there though, which was odd. There was a letter for my dad, which of course I read. I can't remember exactly what she said, but the point is that she was pissed off with dad's drinking, womanising and general slobby nature and she'd gone back to Scotland. I didn't understand her problem as she was just the same as him except that it was men she went after of course. I'd even met a few when I'd arrived home unexpectedly and found them in bed. The fact that she'd gone didn't disturb me too much, as nearly all the kids I knew only had a mum or dad, and they seemed OK. It wasn't long before I was taking care of myself. Dad's drinking became almost continuous and I rarely saw him sober. I tried to keep my clothes clean, but didn't know how to use the old washing machine we had, and in any case dad hadn't put any money in the electric meter as a rule. He brought in some take-away food once in a while, but I couldn't depend on that, and survived by scrounging from friends or begging outside McD's. It was outside the Tower Hamlets McD's that I met Spikey (I don't know his real name). He was sat on the wall eating a burger and watching me try to bum some food. After a bit he gave me nearly a whole burger and said he'd get another for himself. He looked just as poor as me and I was goggle-eyed at all the money he showed me. There was more there than I'd ever seen before. "Where'd you get all that dosh?" I asked. "Over there," he said. I looked where he pointed, but couldn't see anything except the car park, petrol station and toilets. "Where?" "What are you, fuckin' stupid or something?" My blank look must've told him that I didn't understand fuck all. "In the bogs, wanking and blowing old men." I knew what the words meant, but what connection was there between them and all the money he had? "Christ!" He said. "Where the fuck are you from?" So I told him, and in exchange he told me how he got the dosh. "Wanna try it?" Spikey said after a bit. The fact that I was still hungry, hadn't got a penny in my pocket and had nothing better to do made my mind up for me. "See that old geezer over there," he said, nodding at a man crossing the car park. "That's the third time he's gone in the past ten minutes. My guess is that he's looking for a chicken." "Chicken?" "Young boy like you or me. All he'll want is a quick wank or BJ. I charge a fiver for a wank and a tenner for a BJ. You do know what a BJ is don't you?" I shook my head. "Suck him off. Put his prick in your gob and suck it until he cums." I'd wanked before of course, even with some neighbours boys once, but I'd never put a prick in my mouth and hadn't a clue what to do. I was OK with jerking him off if it meant I'd get some money, but any more than that and he could whistle. "Right," Spikey said. "You go in there and stand next to him and get your prick out. Make sure he sees it, and if he's interested he'll smile at you and play with his cock. Then you say that you'll wank him for a fiver. Money first." Sounded easy. Just get a fiver and toss him off. I could manage that. I walked into the shitty, smelly toilets and stood waiting, my dick hard as nails and pointing at the roof. The man almost ran in behind me and unfastened his zip, letting his dong hang out. From out of the corner of my eye, I saw him look down at me. Taking my hand away so he could see my dick better, I turned ever so slightly towards him. I heard him gasp and watched, fascinated as his dick grew bigger and bigger. "Wank you for a fiver, mister," I said nervously. "Money up front." Hurriedly, he dug into his pockets and thrust five pound coins into my hand. I grabbed his cock and started to wank him. Suddenly he reached down and put his fingers on my knob. It made me jump at first, but I did my best to ignore it - after all I'd got five pounds in my pocket. I needn't have worried though because his hand was so rough and he held my cock so tight that he couldn't make me cum anyway. Wanking him was easy. It only took a couple of minutes before he spunked up and splattered it all over the pisser. Before he could get his breath, I was out and running, zipping up as I went. I was there every night for a week and made a good few quid. I ate well on chips, burgers and Coke - I didn't take any of it home though as dad would've wanted to know where the dosh came from: he was just a drunk, not stupid. I didn't see Spikey until the second week when I saw him in the street one day. He seemed glad to see me and we talked as we headed for the park. "Where you been?" I asked. "You ain't been around." "Other places. It don't do no good goin' to the same bog all the time 'cause someone will call the cops if they see you hangin' round too much." We sat on the grass talking for ages, with Spikey watching the men's toilets all the time. Twice he followed men into the bogs, coming back with a tenner the first time and twenty the second. "How the fuck did you get that much?" I gasped in awe. It would take me two or three days to earn that much. "BJ first one, being fucked second one." he said matter-of-factly. "And I ain't even cum yet, so that's another tenner." I sat, stunned, as I thought about it. "You sucked yet?" he asked, breaking into my thoughts. "No. I don't know how to." He laughed at me and said, "Come on then, I 'spose I gotta show you." Instead of going into the nearby bogs, Spikey led me across to the kids playground and into the 'Boys Only' toilets "Olds men ain't allowed in here," Spikey explained. "Only us kids. It'll be quieter." We went into a cubicle and stood facing each other. "Come on then, drop 'em." I undid my torn jeans and pushed my kecks down to my knees. They were dirty and piss-stained, but they were the least dirty of the three pairs I had. Spikey pulled a face when he saw them, but said nothing. He got me to stand on the toilet bowl and face him. To start with he used just one hand to feel all over my nads, his fingers feeling them up. Then he wrapped them round my nob and began to wank me off. "If you wanna get the men off quick," he said, "wank him a bit first and suck him just before he cums. Or, if you want, suck him more, but it takes longer." He was good at his job. As he jerked me off, his fingers seemed to be everywhere at once, making my nob hot and really hard. Just as I thought I was gonna shoot, he put his lips on the end of my dick and slowly sucked it in to his mouth. The feeling was fuckin' marvellous and I gasped in amazement as I felt a hot flush spread through my body. "Christ, you smell!" he said, taking his mouth away for a second. Personal cleanliness wasn't one of my strong points. We never had any hot water, and washing my cock and balls in cold water was definitely out. Manfully, he sank down on me again, and using both his mouth and hands soon brought me to a fantastic ball-draining cum. The best I ever had. He spat it out into the bowl I was standing on and said, "That's a tenner you owe me!" For a moment I was panic-stricken. I hadn't done anything yet and had no money. Luckily he smiled at me and said I could blow him if I wanted, "As my first customer!" We changed places and he dropped his jeans to reveal a nice, hard cock. It was a bit longer and fatter than mine, but then he was a little bit older. Gingerly I put my hand on it and ran my fingers round it. This bit I was used to by now and even enjoyed it sometimes, like I was now. Very carefully I leaned forward and, doing just as he did, allowed his swollen knob to enter my mouth. I didn't know what to expect, but the first thing I noticed was a slight taste of piss and spunk all mixed up. It wasn't bad when you got used to it. Spikey's cock was Ok. It felt smooth and warm and not at all gross. I took more and more of it in, even using my tongue to feel all round it. Suddenly I coughed and spluttered so much that it brought tears to my eyes - his bell-end had touched the back of my throat. I spat his dick out and coughed again. "You'll get used to that," he laughed. "It feels even better when you can get it down your gizzard!" Cautiously, I tried again and this time I managed to swallow it all. I began to suck on him properly now, twisting and turning him in my gob, and licking it all the time. "Fuckin' Hell!" he suddenly shouted and he pulled me off by grabbing my hair. "Jesus!" he moaned, looking at his dick. "Watch your bleedin' teeth, and don't push the skin back so much either." Chastened, I said sorry and offered to try again. "Not now, mate. I don't wanna cum anyway. You did Ok though, for the first time." Over the next few weeks I went to all the toilets I could think of, earning a good few quid which I used to buy some new clothes with, and even went swimming sometimes to get myself clean. I met all sorts of men of all sorts of shapes and sizes and colours. Dicks and cocks in an amazing variety of shapes and sizes too. The best thing I learned though was to sort out the men who treated me roughly, and those who were OK. Spikey and I kept in touch by writing messages on bog walls for each other or I'd ring him at agreed times on a public phone. We also met some other boys who were doing the same thing as us and we told each other which toilets ('cottages') were being watched and which men didn't pay or beat you up afterwards. Hackney. The first time I got hurt was when I went to the cottage near the library in Hackney. I'd spotted this geezer who looked like an office worker, with a suit and tie. He followed me down the steps into the underground bogs and waved his old man at me. After I'd agreed to suck him for a tenner, he followed me into a shitter and closed the door behind him. To begin with he was OK. His dick wasn't too big and for a change it was clean. Anyway, I sat on the bowl and got down to work. I was doing a good job, guessing by the 'Ooooh and Aaaah' noises he was making when suddenly he grabbed my hair and started to fuck my mouth really hard. At the same time he was calling me a cunt, bastard, cocksucker and all the other names he could think of. I was so shocked with the face-fucking that I opened my mouth wider instead of biting down as I later learned to do. This made it even worse for me. When he came, he pulled his dick out and sprayed his cum all over my face, throwing my head back so it hit the wall so hard that I nearly passed out and felt sick. He then slapped me viciously across the face and left. At least I had just enough sense to bolt the door before I fell back and cried bitterly with both the shock and the pain. It took ages for me to feel even a bit better. At least there was no blood, just a very tender bump on the back of my head, growing bigger by the second. Using toilet paper and water from the bowl, I wiped away my tears and fell dizzily up the stairs into the street and safety. I've been hurt since then of course, but never by a man who turned so quickly or so viciously. I've also learned that it is a price I must pay for living the way I do. Battersea. I didn't go south of the river Thames very often as I didn't know the area that well and in any case there were enough places for me to go in east London. This particular day, for some reason I rode on the tube to Battersea and went to the park. I found where the toilets were and sat on a bench watching them. To my disappointment I soon discovered that there were far too many park attendants and groundsmen around to make it safe. I was trying to remember if I'd heard of anywhere else in the area when a man sat next to me, Automatically I turned to him and smiled. He smiled back and moved a little bit closer. He touched me on the shoulder after a while and said, "Bored?" I knew I'd caught him then, and nodded a 'yes' back at him. He looked nice: well dressed and well spoken. He left his hand on my shoulder, gently tapping his fingers. He glanced at his watch and said that he had an hour to spare and would I like to go back to his place. Naturally I agreed. I'd never been back to anyone's pad before: where I came from it would be fucking stupid, not that they asked anyway. After a ten minute walk, we went the back way into a big block of flats. The one the man, called Jason, lived in was heaps bigger than all of my house put together and all the furniture he had would've bought it. "Would you like a shower?" he asked. This was his way of telling me that I was a bit high, it'd been four days since I last went swimming and I suppose it showed. He led me into the bathroom, all chrome and frosted glass windows. Sitting on a small stool he stood me between his knees and slowly undress me, starting with my grubby T-shirt. After he'd removed my trainers and socks, he loosened my trousers. Putting my hand onto his shoulders to keep my balance, I stepped out of my pants and jeans, standing bollock naked in front of him, my cock gradually rising. I guess I should've been frightened or embarrassed or something at finding myself like this, but for some reason I liked and trusted the man. Turning me round several times, all he kept saying was, "Nice, very nice." He didn't touch me or anything except for one finger which he put on my arm to spin me round. When he saw my solid erection, with my tiny bush of new-grown hair above it, all he did was to swallow and say, "Beautiful!" The next thing he did was to turn the shower on, give me a bottle of shampoo, a bottle of liquid soap, and push me gently under the water. I thought, and hoped, that he would undress and get into the shower with me but to my surprise, he didn't move from where he was. All he did was stare at me, smiling, watching me wash. Maybe this is how he gets his rocks off I thought to myself, in which case I'm Ok with that. I acted for all I was worth, if it was a show he wanted, then a show he would get. I washed my hair vigorously, jiggling up and down to make my still erect dick bounce around. I soaped myself thoroughly, running my hands all over my body as provocatively as I knew how. I even showed him how I cleaned under my foreskin, which isn't easy with a boner. I hope he didn't see the build up of cheese I quickly washed away. When I'd done washing, I looked round for a towel, but there wasn't one in sight, only a small hand towel by the sink. Reaching over to the wall, Jason pushed a button and straightaway the water stopped running and streams of warm air surrounded me. It was amazing! Once I was dry, Jason took me by the hand (how soft his hands were!) and led me, still naked, into his living room. In my head, I was prepared for anything to happen now - it was payback time. To my surprise, he sat down in an enormous easy chair and pulled me down to sit on his knees. Picking up some sort of remote control, he pushed a few buttons; the curtains closed, soft lights came on and the room was full of quiet music. "Put your arms round my neck," he whispered in my ear. I did as I was told and clasped my hands behind him. He ran his fingers all over my body, feeling almost every square inch of it. He ran them through my hair, felt all over my face, squeeze my neck gently and rubbed my nipples softly. From the tips of my toes to the top of my head. Again and again and again he touched me with feather-light fingers and soft palms, everywhere except my nads. I was incredibly aroused by now of course, I felt a delicious glow all over me and my so far untouched prick was dripping pre-cum like never before. In fact I was so close to cumming that I had to bite my lip to stop it. To my immense relief, he pushed my legs apart slightly and gently held my balls in his hand, feeling their weight and so far hairless skin. Then he rested his fingers on my cock. Didn't rub me or anything, just held it between his fingers and thumb. My dick jerked two or three times and I only just managed not to shoot my load. "Let it cum, let it cum," he whispered in my ear. That was all it took. Instantly my body froze, my back arched and my dick spasmed. Six or seven huge gobs of spunk shot like guided missiles high in the air and my balls retracted so much I thought they'd end up in my throat! My head almost exploded with the sensation and I am sure I even passed out for a second or two. "Magnificent!" he murmured. "That really was very good. May I kiss you now?" I only partly heard this, but was just about sensible enough to nod at him. As far as I was concerned, just at that moment he could have roast me on a spit and I would've been happy. His kisses were as gentle as his hands, no tongues or anything, just simple, almost motherly. To my complete and utter disappointment, he said that unfortunately he had to go out again now and so our fun had to end. As he watched me dress, I did something I'd never done before. "Can I see you again, Jason?" I pleaded. "I don't know," he replied. "It's difficult. But you are beautiful, and just the age I like." After a bit of a discussion, it was agreed that he would try and ring me at 10 o'clock on Friday and Wednesday nights on the public telephone in the car park near McD's. I only knew the number because it was the one I used to talk to Spikey sometimes. It wasn't until we left the flat that Jason pressed a twenty pound note into my hand and suggested I treat myself to some new clothes before my next visit. Half an hour later, with the twenty pounds stored safely down my pants, I realised that he'd said 'for my next visit'. I smiled to myself, as happy as a pig in shit. ****************** Andrew has read through what I've written so far and changed bits of it so it is better. He said that it was OK, the only thing I had to do was to learn to spell! Oh, and try not to use the same words like 'nice' and 'fuck' too much. ****************** King's Cross. Spikey and me had decided to go to King's Cross station one day, not to do anything but just to have a look. Spikey'd told me that there were lots of rent boys there and they get lots and lots of trade and money. It took a long time to spot them because they were a lot older than us and much better dressed. They seemed to be at least eighteen years old. Some even wore make-up, but I didn't like that, it seemed too tarty and made it too obvious what they were. "They're the ones who like doing it," Spikey told me. "They don't do it just for the money like us." "Where do they go?" I asked. In a big place like King's Cross there was nowhere to hide away as far as I could see. "Some have their own pads near here, but a lot go to hotels and things," he explained. We'd never stopped walking around all the time we were talking and looking, and I was getting tired of it. "Let's get a drink an something to eat," I said. "I wanna sit down." Surprisingly, he took me out of the station and into a coffee bar a few streets away. "You gotta watch it in there," he told me. "There are lots of cops around watching you, some in plain clothes. If they see anyone like us who are too young or by ourselves, they'll stop you and ask lots of stupid questions like where are you going, where you live. What's your name and stuff. They even have cameras watching you all the time. They seem to leave the older boys alone though, as long at they keep moving and don't piss anyone off." We walked to Soho from King's Cross because Spikey said that it was another place that men picked up boys. "You gotta watch it though," he went on. "There are lots of kids on the make in Soho and they'll kick you in if you try and steal their punters." Picking the rent boys out this time was easier. Most of them spent their time in the amusement arcades playing on the slot machines. If a man wanted to pick 'em up, all he had to do was watch the boy for a bit, and when he ran out of coins, offer to give him some in return 'for a favour'. It turned out that there were lots of back alleys and hidden corners where you could go for a few minutes if you were in a hurry, but the lucky ones were taken to a porno cinema. There were lots of these in Soho, buried in the cellars and basements of the shops. Some of the seedier ones let the underage boys in if they were with a man; after all it was another fiver in their bin and as long as there was no trouble they were OK. I didn't like the idea much because there was no way to escape if you got in trouble, and it was too dark to see properly anyway. I learned a lot that day, mostly that there was a sort of secret London which I never knew about. There were lots and lots of boys like me who turned tricks to earn money, which was OK with me, as it was a quick and easy way to get a few quid. There were also some boys who seemed to do it because they liked doing it anyway. That too was OK - I liked doing it myself sometimes. Spikey and I were sat on the top deck of the 'bus on the way home, all by ourselves at the back. We'd had such a sexy sort of day that we felt each other up through our opened flies all the way home. I even managed to suck him a couple of times, which we both liked. We didn't cum though because we still had to go and earn some money. Later that night as I sat waiting for a customer, I decided that Central London was too dangerous for me to add to my list of places to go. It was too crowded, too far from my own patch, and, most of all, had too high a chance of my being caught or beaten up. My Home Life I'd not been back to school hardly at all for ages. I used to go once in a while when we had letters threatening to take me and my dad to court, but a few days attendance kept them off our backs and dad never knew anything. In fact I rarely saw my dad; we'd sort of come to an arrangement that worked for us both. I'd get home late at night, but before he came home from the pub. Then I'd go to bed and stay there until he'd gone to work the following day. Once in a while he'd remember that I was there and bring home pie or fish and chips for me, usually cold. These he threw onto my bed with a grunt before closing the door. Nine times out of ten they were thrown away the following morning. The gas used for cooking had been cut off ages ago because we didn't pay the bill, the electric was on a coin-in-the-slot meter, but as just about the only thing electric we had working were the TV and lights we didn't use that much - and I paid for that. He never gave me any money, and on the one occasion he asked me where I got mine from, I told him I had a week-end job. Whether or not he believed me, I couldn't give a fuck. Eventually the inevitable happened. The council came round and evicted us for not paying the rent. He couldn't even manage that. By a lot of fucking about and the help of a kind lady from the Social Services, the council moved us into a cheap flat in the worst part of town. One advantage for me was that it was in a different school area. All I did was to tell my old school that I was moving, gave them a made-up address and didn't register in my new school. Other than that nothing changed. Oh, and I got a mobile phone which I nicked off a drunk punter one night as he was wanking me, and got the number changed on a market stall. I could've bought a mobile phone I suppose, but it was much more fun to nick it - after all why waste money when you can get one for free! What I did buy though was a cheap back-pack in which I kept some clean clothes for Jason, a towel and my swimming things. There was also a secret pocket for my stash of dosh. Jason. Jason had rung me a few times at the public phone box, and I'd met him in then park near his house. Then we'd go to his flat and go through the whole shower thing. It was a bit strange I thought, but what the Hell! It was twenty pounds a time and in fact I liked it. Now I had the mobile, Jason could ring or text me at any time with a message and sometimes he would text me to say that he had some spare time and could I get over to see him. I always made sure I could. One Wednesday it was pissing down with rain and I'd spent a miserable morning dodging in and out of shops to keep warm. Worst of all was that the cottages were a waste of time in the wet weather, they were cold, wet and smelled even worse than usual. There were no punters anyway. Then Jason sent me a message telling me that he was free if I was. An hour later we met at our usual bench and then to his flat. While I was in the shower, Jason and I had started to talk to each other over the past few weeks, although it was me who did the talking mostly. He learned a lot about me, but I got to know next to nothing about him. I didn't mind too much because he seemed to be interested in me, which no one else ever was unless I was in trouble. He even learned my real name (Ian as it happens) which no one else did except Spikey. That particular wet day, Jason said that there was no hurry for me to leave as he'd finished work and so we had all the afternoon to ourselves. Before too long I was sat on Jason's knee, naked as a Jaybird and cuddled up to him with my head on his shoulder. This was the best part for me - in an odd sort of way he was giving me something which neither of my parents never had. Often I dozed off as he caressed and fondled me, dreaming of a world I'd never be part of. I was even pleased when he woke me by wanking me gently and almost lovingly. I didn't even care about the dosh he gave me - I would have done it for nothing. I never did though. Anyway, he was playing with my tits (wonderful!) When he asked me if I'd like to look at some pictures with him. Straightaway I assumed that they would be some sort of seedy porno pics of young men and boys - good for a sexy jerk-off when the real thing wasn't available. I agreed anyway, after all it was his house and he was paying me. Another few buttons were pushed on the remote and a projector appeared from nowhere and shone a picture on the wall in front of us. Rather than the gay porn I'd expected, the pictures were of old paintings and sculptures, some hundreds of years old by the look of them They were all nudes though - of boys and men. Fascinated, I stared as they slowly faded from one to another. There were pictures of hairless young boys posing as cupids or angels, handsome young teenagers with bowls of fruit or looking into pools of water, good looking older men reading books or holding swords and shields. As we watched them, he told me what the thing was called, and who did it. The more I saw, the more I liked them. They weren't porno at all, but they kept me hard. And they made Jason hard too because I could feel his cock under my leg. I moved slightly to make room for it, giving Jason a sweet smile. He mouthed a 'thanks' to me, but no more than that. "Did you like them?" Jason asked as the show finished. "Yes," I answered honestly. "They were nice. Not dirty at all." Jason was now holding my dick and balls cupped in his hand, gently rubbing his thumb up and down my knob. "Which ones did you like best?" He flicked through them one by one until he reached a painting of a cupid by a man called 'caravan' or something. "That's called 'Love Conquers All' he told me, or sometimes 'Amor Vincit Omnia' in Latin. The picture was of a nude boy with big brown wings like on an angel. He was holding a bunch of arrows and sort of stood with his legs apart, one of them resting on a table. Whoever painted it must've spent hours looking at naked boys because his dick was perfect. You could even see where the skin fitted round his dickhead. There were also some violins and things on the floor, but I think they'd been put there just to fill the space. "What do you think of his face?" Jason asked. I hadn't hardly looked at it before, but now I did I saw something I recognised straight away. It was exactly the look I gave when I was on the make! That sort of 'I'm all yours, come and get me' look I'd used so often. Instead of answering him, I giggled slightly and blushed. "Exactly!" Jason said, smiling back at me. "That's precisely the look you gave me when we first met in the park." Was I that obvious? Shit! If I looked at men like that, it was amazing that I hadn't been arrested a thousand times! Now feeling very guilty, I looked away from the embarrassing picture and hung my head down. "Hey!" Jason said, putting a finger under my chin and lifting my head up. "It's allright. If you hadn't looked at me like that we'd never have met. And we would both be worse off." He gave my cock a gentle squeeze and even gave me a little kiss on the cheek. Whatever, or whoever, this man was, he certainly had a way of saying or doing things that made me feel better. "And what else did you like?" he asked, changing the subject. After a few more pictures we came to the other one I liked. It was a statue of a boy called David by someone called Donnytello. He was nude again and holding a big sword. When I looked at it closely, it seemed a bit odd to me. "It could be a girl," I giggled at Jason. "What with those?" he laughed. "No. He's wearing a funny hat, he's got his arm bent like a queer and his hair is over his shoulders. If you cover up his nads, you couldn't tell." I told him. "That supposed to be the world's first full-sized proper nude," Jason said. "It's said by a lot of people to be the most beautiful boy ever." Once again I felt his cock twitch and began to understand just a little about him. It wasn't sex he was interested in, it was the beauty and handsomeness of boys he liked. This was a surprise to me as I'd never thought about it before. Ok, I'd been told many times that I was beautiful and even that a punter loved me, but I was bright enough to know that I was only told that because I was giving the man a hand or blow job. With Jason, beauty and love had different meanings. And, I thought with a little embarrassment, he must think I'm beautiful in a way too. He seemed pleased at my interest in his pictures and got out some art books with lots more pictures. We spent ages looking through them and talking about them. Some were hundreds of years old and done by famous people (although I'd never heard of them) and some of them, especially the photographs were quite new. For some reason I looked out of the window and saw to my astonishment that it was dark outside. "What time is it?" I said hurriedly. "Just past eight o'clock," Jason said as surprised as me. "You alright to get home?" he asked worriedly. "Dunno," I replied. "I've never crossed London at night before by myself." In fact I'd never crossed London in the dark before, with anyone else or not, and it scared me a bit. "Can I .....?" The sentence was left unfinished as I was sure that he'd never let me stay the night, and I didn't want to ask him really. I didn't want to spoil things between us by making him angry or anything. He thought for a moment and said, "You'd be very welcome young man. It's been a long time since I had a house guest, especially one as young and good looking as you." I was relieved beyond belief. Not only had I been spared the terrors of the journey home, but I was staying in a lovely, clean, warm house for once. "Do you want to ring your dad?" He asked. "No, thanks. He won't know I'm not there. We don't have a phone anyway." He absorbed this for a second, then rubbed his hands together and said cheerfully, "Right then. Food. Hungry?" I realised that I hadn't eaten all day and was starving. "Shall I get dressed?" I said. "Not unless you want to," he replied from the kitchen. "It's up to you." I'd never met anyone like him before - he seemed totally relaxed about everything, nothing seemed to faze him. I decided to stay as I was, firstly because I knew he liked looking at me, and secondly I actually got a kick out of wandering about completely bollock naked. "Come on, " he called from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready." When I got there, I was gobsmacked. I knew the man was posh, but he'd laid the table out properly like they do in restaurants. There were even little mats for the plates and napkins to clean your hands with. Apprehensively I sat down opposite him and stared down at the meal in front of me. It was a sort of stew with meat, potatoes and lots of veg, only some of which I recognised. As I began to eat, he laughed at me and said, "You'd better put that napkin down there," pointing through the table at my cock and balls with his fork, "we don't want you burning yourself do we!" I giggled in response and did as I was told. We even shared some wine, but I didn't drink much as it made me cough. After we'd finished he put the dirty things into a machine and we went to watch some TV. Whatever was on, I haven't a clue. Once settled back on his lap, I nuzzled into his neck and sighed as he caressed me. He didn't even tell me off when I kissed his neck and hugged him. All he did was give my dick a little squeeze. I must've dozed off again because the next thing I knew was that he was shaking me awake. "Bed," he whispered. "You can either sleep there," indicating the settee, or share my bed with me. I promise not to touch a single hair of your body!" There was no choice was there? His bed, needless to say, was huge - enough room for six I thought. I slipped under the sheets and lay on my back watching him undress. There was no shyness at all. He took his clothes off, folded them up carefully and opened a draw for his pyjamas. Looking straight at me, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "I don't usually wear them anyway." He put them back and climbed into bed. We lay facing each other about two feet apart and started talking. This time I learned that he was a photographer, wasn't married and shared the flat with a man who spent a lot of time travelling. I didn't ask whether he was his lover or not. >From the way the conversation was going, it was obvious that he meant what he said about touching me and he didn't. Disappointed, I put a hand on my hard cock and played with it. I felt a desperate urge to jack off, but there was no way I could do it with him there and in any case what would I do with the spunk? Didn't change the fact that I was feeling horny though. Very slowly I slid an arm across and gently stroked his arm, waiting for a sign to tell me that my attentions weren't wanted. It didn't come. Taking this for an approval, I scooched closer to him and ran my fingers over his chest and stomach. "That's nice," I whispered, hoping to encourage him. The only thing he did was to turn onto his side and face me. Very leisurely I let my hand drift down towards his crotch. As I got near his pubes, I felt his body stiffen a bit and a quiet moan escape from his lips. I wrapped my fingers around his solid erection and stroked it carefully. Then I took his hand and placed it on my hot, now leaking cock. If he didn't know what to do, I certainly did. "It's been a long time," he said as much to himself as to me, "A very long time." For a split second I thought about going down on him, but quickly decided that it might be unwelcome, or even worse, make him think I was some sort of slut. Instead I toyed with his nads, using the few skills I had to make it as good for him as possible. He too was fondling me beautifully and delicately. Apart from a few grunts and moans of pleasure from both of us we were silent. I was really happy and enjoying myself, and so I think was he. Even I knew that whenever you are happy and enjoying yourself, it never seems to last very long, and true to form, it wasn't long before we both spunked up, breathlessly and ecstatically. From somewhere he produced some paper towels and cleaned us both up . The instant his hand touched my dick, it jerked to attention again, ready for some more action! This surprised even me. "Randy bugger!" Jason laughed and let go. We fell asleep embracing each other. I can't remember ever being so happy and at peace with the world. I saw Jason at least once a week after that memorable night, but I only ever stayed the whole night once or twice. We never did any sex stuff again, but at least he let me put my hand on his dick through his trousers when he got a boner. End of Part 1 - Part 2 (final) next ************************* List of longer my stories posted on the Nifty Stories site: Cairo Holiday /nifty/gay/highschool/cairo-holiday/ A developing story of two teenage boys who meet when one of them is on holiday to Egypt. It tells of their developing relationship and the liaisons they have with the local boys. They grow to like each other - and more. They share a mutual desire to explore this magical city, and discover more than they ever thought they would, not only about Egypt but also themselves. Things change however, when their families learn about their special relationship. Forest House /nifty/gay/adult-youth/forest-house/ Life in a home for teenage boys leads a young care worker into finding a new side to himself which he didn't know existed, and at the same time teaches a group of behaviour-problem boys that life can be fun sometimes! Gareth's Story /nifty/gay/highschool/gareths-story/ Gareth is in care, and has been asked to put his life history down on paper. Despite his misgivings, he does, and in so doing discovers not only himself but new friends. Later on he meets a new friend and his life improves as he moves out of care to join a new family. Garry and John Stories /nifty/gay/adult-youth/garry-and-john/ The story of John, a university undergraduate and his 12-year-old cousin who find they enjoy each other's company and more, despite family differences. They strike up a loving relationship and John takes Garry away from an abusive and unloving home. Garry and John Make A Home follows on, they leave Oxford behind and set up home together. Despite problems, they both mature together and find that they can't live apart. In the third part, they leave England and move to Cairo where their relationship develops and they make new friends and find life is fun as well as interesting! Life Is What You Make It /nifty/gay/college/life-is-what-you-make-it/ Story of a boy who leaves school and spends the summer trying to find out who he is. He finds a soul-mate from his old school and, despite their different cultures, learn that they have a great deal in common, eventually setting up home together. Tanta /nifty/gay/adult-youth/tanta/ Ahmed is the young house-boy for a young accountant working in Egypt. A relationship soon develops which suits them both and before long they are living together, much to the satisfaction of them both. Tom Brown's Schoolboy /nifty/gay/adult-youth/tom-browns-schoolboy/ Story about a young boy from a very disadvantaged background who is befriended by one of his teachers who helps him move on to a much better life. Brian is Different /nifty/gay/adult-youth/brian-is-different/