(Hiya, kids! Hiya! Hiya! Are you old enough to remember Froggy the Gremlin? Probably not. Nevertheless, please take the trouble to donate to Nifty to whatever extent you can afford. It would be great if you could send a buck for every time I replace an "h" with an apostrophe in the story that follows!)
Me and Jimmy and the Boy
So I 'ad me this job back in seventy, seventy-one, mucking up at the BBC, and that's how I come to meet Jimmy Savile. Sir Jimmy Savile, as 'e become. 'E were a corker, that 'un, always full o' fun. Mopping around with me mop, I run into him a lot, an' 'e always 'ad a wink and a nod fer me. Anyway, when I walks in on 'im payin' special tongular attention to that schoolgirl from the charity, 'e was not too disturbed.
"You like your job?" he asked me.
"Not much," I says, "but it's what I got."
"Then perhaps you'll just leave us and forget whatever you imagined you might have seen."
"I could do that," I replied, getting more than a little bold, "but I could stand a couple licks on that lolly before I goes."
"Back end," 'e said. "And make it brief." I joined 'im under 'er frock from the back end. She were maybe twelve, and truly delicious. Not so good as a little cocklet, but still truly delicious. Little girls and little boys, from the back end, are pretty much the same.
I can't say as 'ow me and Jimmy was friends, exactly, but 'e let me in on quite a few of 'is little romps when I come up on 'em with me mop. 'E weren't too careful, was Jimmy. Truly, I'm thinkin' them big mucky-mucks 'ad to know what 'e was up to, just perferred not to say. Anyway, 'e was bigger into the girls, and me, I perferred the lads. And, bless him, 'e shared. I would 'ave 'ad nothing 'cept for Jimmy Savile. I was right pleased when the Queen she give 'im 'is knighthood.
It were a few years on when 'e give me Andrew. Andrew were a right pretty boy, but like I said, Jimmy much perferred his girls. I can't say Andrew was all that happy.
"So you clean the studio floors with a mop," he said. Then he said something concerning how he did not see how a "relationship" with me would do him much good at the BBC.
"It's Jimmy's friendship you want," I told him, " and me and Jimmy is mates."
He thought about it, then said, "Well, at least you're not ugly. I suppose I can try it for a time. But if you want my ass, you'll have to lick it a lot before I let you get your dick up there."
I kept telling Jimmy 'ow Andrew 'ad to 'ave a tryout for this or that or 'e might open 'is mouth. I don't suppose that bothered Jimmy all that much, and maybe 'e done it for my sake. I'd like to think that, but not much likely. Jesus, I was so 'ot for that boy!
So, Andrew 'e got to go out and wiggle 'is bottom on the rock and roll dance show fairly regular. Me, thanks to Jimmy, I got moved up from mop to grip. Yes, I still was pushing shit around, but I was making union wages for it.
And, yes, I was licking Andrew's ass, and sucking his dick too. 'E made out like 'e was boss, and maybe someday 'e might let me fuck 'im, but I would 'ave swallowed that boy back front and sideways anyhows, and maybe paid to do it.
Probbally, you would like me to tell you a little about Andrew. First, that bottom he wiggled out there on the dance show was first class, so round and wiggly even Jimmy could not resist giving it a squeeze on his way by despite his greater liking for young girls. God, I loved that ass, and would have licked it nine ten hours a day, no union wage required. Besides his ass, 'e was on the young side of twelve, with the longish 'air boys wore in them days to look like Beatles. 'E 'ad fair 'air and 'is eyes was green, and in girl's togs 'e would 'ave looked just like a girl, pure and simple. Lots of the kids 'ad that look back then, which may be why Jimmy did some boys sometimes. 'E really did perfer the girlies, but a boy like Andrew could distract most anybody.
So one day my tongue is doing the loop-de-loop around Andrew's bumhole, and I got his kind of stubby but hard three-incher with not a single hair in my hand, and he says, "Jonesy, my mum says I got to start advancing my career. The dance show is okay, but if I got to be, like she says, 'taken advantage of,' she wants me in some genuine BBC drama."
Me, I didn't know shit 'bout no drama. I just dragged stuff on and off the sound stage, which is what a grip is intended to do. I suspected Jimmy didn't know much more than me, since his act was not what you'd call highbrow.
"Well," I said, "I'll talk to Jimmy, and we'll see what we can do."
"You get me in a real drama," he told me, "and you can fuck me."
"I'll try," I said, not caring all that much because my tongue could satisfy me just as much as my dick. Shit, that boy was delicious! "If that's what you want, I'll try my best."
So I tries asking Jimmy, but 'e 'as no time for me until I walks in on 'im in a supply closet while 'e's puttin' it to some little teenie, an' 'e says "Just get out and I'll find 'im a role." An' 'e did, which were maybe 'alf a minute with no lines and no mention in the credits in the new production of War and Peace they was doing back then, but it was enough to make Anthony's mother 'appy. So I got to fuck 'im. I picked the same supply closet where I found Jimmy with that teenie, figuring it was fitting. Mind you, I had licked Andrew'a crotch front and back many a time in that same closet, but I still figured it was the right place for his fucking to get done.
So he come in and dropped his pants, bent over a heap o' rarely used props, and said, "Go on, get it over with." I knelt to lick that beautiful young 'ole, and got a tongueful of petroleum jelly or somethin' similar. I stuck a finger up there, and it slid right in. That made me think of Jimmy, and if 'e'd been there before me, no matter his better liking for the girlies. "Well," I thought, "could've been anybody. Right?"
Anyway, when I reached around 'im, 'is little dickie was stiff as a spike, so I guessed 'e was not too un'appy about getting one up 'is bum'ole. I lined up my prick on 'is pucker, and pushed it up. Oh, and it slid right up there, and it felt like it was sucking on me, it was so fine. I fucked him hard as I could, figuring, I guess, that I'd never get the chance again, which turned out to be true. What a beautiful ass! What a beautiful boy!
Six months on, Andrew was kind of pimply and gawky, and he got dropped from the rock and roll dance show. I guess 'is mom was not too 'appy. Me, I moved over as a grip to ITV, where I worked at Pipkin. We had kids around sometimes, but they was way too small. Jimmy, as you know, just went on until he died, lucky bastard. I don't suppose he cares at all if his reputation was ruined once he was dead. He had his good time.
I don't suppose there will ever be anybody like Andrew again in my life. Sometimes it's just once and over.
(Sorry that this story was so short and not especially graphic, but I meant it as an homage to Jimmy Savile, who lived the life most of us would have wanted for ourselves. Wasn't it great how he managed to die, at a ripe old age, before all the shit hit the fan? If you would care to comment on the story, or criticize my take on working class Brit dialect, write to firstname.lastname@example.org )