Date: Thu, 12 Apr 2007 13:55:17 -0500
From: Jon Kent <jonkent@post.com>
Subject: RESCUE ME for ADULT YOUTH Gay

RESCUE ME
by JON KENT


DISCLAIMER

Everyone should accept the laws of his country, reserving the right to
strive democratically to change those he disagrees with.  Therefore, if the
laws where you live say that you should NOT be reading stories like these,
you are legally obliged to leave now and read no further. It does not
matter if these stories are fiction, made-up, only written to entertain,
instruct, engage, and inform. If for any reason, the law where you live
says you are NOT allowed to read them, you have to go. So off you go.  Live
a healthy and happy life, and come back, if you want to, whenb your laws
say you can.


INTRODUCTION

AS FOR YOU, Consider this.

At what age does the young male realise that he wants to experience sex?
In the modern developed world that realisation seems to be emerging at a
younger and younger age. Puberty itself seems to be occuring at younger and
younger ages. At the same time, youngsters are bombarded with sexual
imagery, sexual invitations, sexual temptation. And some of these young
people are going to become sexually engaged with older people. This is
simply a description of what happens.

At what age does the youngster become an 'older' person himself?  Does he
go to sleep an 'innocent' the night before his birthday, and wake up a
16-year-old predator?

Sex between an adult and a 'minor' is illegal.  Each society determines its
own age of consent.  Members of a society should accept the consequences of
their own actions.

But we should be aware that such relationships will happen.  This is not so
suggest we should condone them.  It is to suggest that we should try to
understand them.

To what extent is RESCUE ME fictional?  For the record, it is entirely
fiction; it never happened; for ALL stories are fictional.  Even the purest
autiobiography is fictional in the sense that events, people, incidents,
situations are selected, remembered, reconstructed, reimagined.

Nothing ever is as it was.

Read and remember.



RESCUE ME

"C'mere, you little bastard!"

"Fuck you!"

Neil didn't turn to look. He felt a hand brush his shoulder and
ducked. Ducked, twisted, and dived along the aisles. Thank Christ, the
shelves were so close together in Woolworth's. No fat bastard was going to
catch him. And catch him for what? A shitty handful of 'Pick 'n Mix' he
didn't really want anyway.

"Come back here, you little..."

"Fat fuckin' chance," and Neil was there. Obligingly the automatic doors
swung open for him, and he was out and away. He ducked into the nearest
alley, and almost tripped over it. "Sorry, missus." 'It' was Elsie, the bag
lady. Flat-out drunk, piss trickling between her legs. Neil stopped. It was
a can of Super Special, and it was there for the taking. Then he remembered
where the can had been, and, with a grimace, turned into a lane, climbed a
low wall, crossed a patch of scrubby burnt grass, nipped through a broken
gate, and was away.

"Fuckin' Jesus H. Christ, it's hot."

The sun slashed down as pitiless as any store floorwalker. His T-shirt
clung to him. He struggled out of it, and stuck it in his belt. It dragged
his jeans even lower, revealing the slogan 'Basic Concept' across the
elastic top of his boxers. He felt the fabric stick to his arse cheeks.
"For fuck's sake, it's up my ass," he grunted, pulling the material free.

Neil looked down at his skinny chest with its raisin nubs. Sweat trickled
down the narrow groove, slowed at his belly, and filled the little
innie. "Twelve years old, and I look about ten," he complained. "No wonder
they won't let me in. Fuckin' hell, gotta do something."

He wandered down towards the harbour. It might be cooler there. Even the
fuckin' tourists had scattered for shade. The streets were deserted. Like
in a movie where some virus wiped out the whole population. He was the only
one left on the whole mother-fuckin' planet. No shade. No water. No
food. But he had food, he had supplies. He jammed his hand deep into his
jeans pocket and pulled out a jellied mass. Half a dozen wine gums, his
haul from 'Pick and Mix', like some fuckin' jelly fish. He'd seen them down
at the harbour, poked sticks through them, hacked them about till they were
sloppy pieces of nothing. They didn't seem to mind, didn't seem to feel
anything, the lucky fuckers.

He raised the sticky blob to his lips and sank his teeth into it. With his
free hand he pushed his long dirty-blond hair, almost as sticky as the
gums, behind his ears. He sighed, chewed, walked on, chewing. He might get
his hair cut. God knows it wasn't much use in this heat. And maybe if he
didn't look so girly they might let him in. But half a dozen of the older
boys had long hair. Nobody gave a fuck any more. You hardly ever saw a
skinhead about. Certainly not a younger one. You saw older guys with
cropped hair or shaved heads. But that was because they were going bald, or
pug ugly, or both. With their fat fuckin' arses, and their hairy beer
bellies, tits big and droopy. He'd seen a few o those on top of his mum
when she'd been too fuckin' drunk, or too fuckin' broke, to care who was
buying in the booze. Too fuckin' drunk to close the bedroom door. And he'd
seen the way some of the men looked at him. He knew what they were -
fuckin' pervs, fuckin' pedos. Despite the heat he felt goose bumps on his
shoulders. He shook away the images like water off a dog.

All he wanted to be was let in. At twelve he was too old to play in the
sandpit on the council playground, and too young to be in the gang.
Charlie's gang. Robby's gang. They ruled it together. Two mean mother
fuckers. They were only two years older, maybe three, but that made all the
difference. They smoked, not just ciggies; they stole, not just fuckin'
wine gums; they'd been excluded from school, lots of times; they'd had sex,
real sex, not just with their own hands. And him - stupid little fucker, he
couldn't even cum properly. Just squirt a couple of jets of milky liquid,
and that was it. The feeling was marvellous, wonderful, it rattled his
whole body, but it wasn't really cumming. He'd seen some of the other boys
cum, in the 'Strip 21' card games; they could shoot the real stuff, thick
and gobby, and... He shook away the images like the sweat from his hair. He
was getting hard down there. Fuck 'n hell, thinking about boys shooting
their loads, and getting hard on it. What the fuck was he? Some kind of
perv, some kind of pedo?

Could you be a pedo at twelve? That was an interesting thought. But, no, he
wasn't. He'd seen little kids naked on the beach, and that's all he saw,
little naked kids. How the fuck could anybody get a hard-on about them? He
squashed the wine gums flat and let them slide down his throat.

He was at the harbour gates now. They were wide open. Not that the iron
railings ever kept him and his mates out when they wanted a bit of late
night fishing, or a bit of graffiti spraying. He'd tried his hand at
spraying. Charlie'd let him have a go. Charlie liked him, or seemed to, as
much as the gang leaders seemed to like anybody. He wasn't bad at it. The
curves came naturally. But, of course, he was too young to be allowed his
own signature.

Too young. Too fucking young. There it was again. Shit, he could smoke -
not that he liked smoking; he could drink - though it made him feel sick;
and he could cum - well, he'd made a start. He had to do something,
anything, to get into the gang. He knew where they were now, knew what
they'd be doing. They'd be in Robby's place. His mum worked for the
NHS. That meant she had crazy hours, crazy shifts. It was the weekend, so
she'd be on three in the afternoon till eight next morning. What time was
it now? About three thirty, he guessed. Yep, they'd be at Robby's. Sprawled
out on the couch, the carpet, drinking beer, smoking puff, watching a
porno, or maybe playing 'Strip 21'. There wouldn't be any girls. Robby and
Charlie said girls were only good for one thing, and you didn't need a
house for that. The air-raid shelters were good enough for that, thank you
very much.

It wouldn't be cool at Robby's, but it wouldn't be as fuckin' hot as
outside. The windows would be wide open, curtains closed, the living room
gloomy, and half a dozen boys, half stripped, sprawled across couch and
carpet. Fuck, he'd give anything, anything, to be there with them
now. "Dream on, Neil, fuckin' dream on," he told himself.

Maybe if he had something to bring them. He stuck his hand in his
pocket. Nuthin'. Not even a fuckin' wine gum. He knew what they
wanted. Lager. Not beer. Beer was for men, fat, hairy-bellied, big-titted
men. Lager was cool, and the cooler the better. Neil giggled at his
unintentional joke. Then frowned. How the fuck could he get a six-pack, he
couldn't even afford a can. Dream on, dream on.

He walked into the eastern end of the harbour. Was it really a harbour? If
it was, it was a fuckin' small one. The half a dozen small fishing boats
bobbing in the dock seemed to fill the place up. The fish sheds were open
for business, but who the fuck was buying on a day like this? The few
tourists there were were seated on the upper deck of the fish restaurant.
Sitting in the shade, sipping their - "lagers, I fuckin' bet."

Neil found the stand-pipe. Turned it on full blast and stuck his head
underneath it. Warm, tepid, cool, cold, freezin' - fuckin' ace! He soaked
his hair, let the water splash down his chest, down his belly, onto his
Basic Concepts and Zantos jeans. Zantos for fuck's sake; everybody knew
they were Matalan. At least they didn't know his mum had got them at
Relate, or was it Oxfam, or maybe Red Cross. His mum shopped in all the
best places - not.

It came to him all at once.

He knew what he had to do. Knew what he was going to do.

He was going to get that lager, a full six-pack, and he knew how he was
going get it.

He was going down to the West Gate. The western end of the harbour.

The western end.

Where the pervs hang out.

Neil glanced at a full-length window to his right, sucked in his breath,
expanded his small chest. His jeans slid lower. He wished he'd some hair
down there. Robby had hair. Charlie had hair, thick, auburn hair, lots of
it. It made him look really sexy. Neil wanted hair. These days he often
checked down there, wishing, hoping, but nuthin', absolutely fuckin'
nuthin'. As bald and shiny as a baby's bum. Just a little would do, peeking
over his Basic Concepts. That would look sexy. The pervs would like
that. He felt himself harden again. "Shit, what the fuck's wrong with me."
He hitched up his jeans and headed for the Western Dock.

The Western Dock lorry park. There were toilets there. That's where the
pervs hung out. He'd never actually seen a perv, but he knew about them
okay. The boys used to talk about them, laugh at them, and, on the edge of
the circle, he'd heard Robby, or was it Charlie? say, "They'll give you
anything, well, almost anything for a quick feel." He'd wanted to ask
Robby, or Charlie, how he knew, but that was dangerous territory, so he
kept his mouth shut and salted away the information.

A quick feel for a six pack. That didn't seem a bad deal. He wasn't going
to feel them, o, no, siree, but they wanted a quick feel of his 'growing
bits' - why the fuck did his mum have to call them that? - well, nobody
would know, he'd get his six pack, and that might be a passport to what he
so desperately wanted, a place in the West Enders.

Neil reached the public toilets. He sat on the kerb a few feet away from
the Men's. He pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned his elbows on his
knees. He looked small and alone. His eyes checked out the lorry park - two
lorries and a white van. Everything was still. Even the seagulls were
stunned by the heat. Out in the estuary the vague outline of a ship
shimmered in the hazy blue. He wondered where it was going, what it would
be like to be on it, going to faraway places with strange-sounding names,
his life changed utterly. He sighed and stretched out his legs, knocking
his cheap-o trainers together in some kind of rhythm.

Then he saw it, cruising round the lorry park. It was blue, maybe electric
blue, though he wasn't sure what made blue 'electric'. What was it - a
Porsche, a BMW? How the fuck would he know? But he knew it was
expensive. Maybe it was just looking for the seafood restaurant, but
something told him it wasn't. It slowed down, stopped, idled, then took off
again in a slow circle round the park. It came towards him, tentatively,
like the driver was unsure, pulled up alongside, idling. A man, not that
old, but he was wearing dark sunglasses so Neil couldn't be sure, leaned
out of the driver's window ---

"Hey, kid, got a minute?"

Something about the voice sounded phony, as if the guy had memorized it
from an American TV show, maybe even from that movie 'Bugsy Malone' with
kids playing... Neil shuffled to his feet, stretched up his arms as if he'd
been half-asleep, sucked in his tummy, felt his jeans slide down his
non-existent hips, his T-shirt ride up, and said "Yeh," unconsciously
matching his accent to the dude in the car.

"I'm looking for West Beach." The guy's accent was English now. "Any
ideas?"

Neil pointed up the road running parallel to the harbour. "Sure, mister. A
couple of miles up the road. That way. You can't miss it."

The guy smiled.

"I could miss anything, believe me." Then he added, "You couldn't show me,
could you? Come with me, I mean. I'd make it worth your while."

There was something in the man's voice. It made him sound he'd be almost
relieved if the boy said no. At the same time there was a note, a note of
what? Hope, longing, desire?

"Guess so, mister. Ain't doing nuthin' anyway. But you got to bring me back
after."

"Sure thing, kid. Hop in." He opened the door and Neil slid onto the
passenger seat. Christ, this was an expensive machine. If Charlie could see
him now. The car purred out of the Western Gate onto West Beach
Road. Despite the heat, the air conditioning was off. "Could be busted,"
thought Neil, settling back nervously, gazing out of his window as the
glittery-eyed houses winked at him.

"Hot today, isn't it? Do you mind?"

The sunglasses were parked on the dashboard. The man one-handedly pulled
off his glowing-white tennis shirt. Neil read the writing on the pocket -
Bermudas Tennis Club. He'd no idea where or what the 'Bermudas' were, but
they sounded as expensive as the car gliding along on air. The driver
slipped his sunglasses back on, and Neil risked a peek.

The guy was young, maybe 20, maybe 30, but not much older. He was
good-looking. No Brad Pitt or any of those Hollywood guys his mum mooned
over, but a cut or two above those fat, hairy fuckers she usually brought
home. He wasn't muscly, but he wasn't a skinny doodle either. That's what
Charlie called him sometimes - 'Skinny Doodle'. He didn't mind that
much. It came from Charlie, and Charlie was never nasty to him, never mean
in the way that Robby could be. And the perv smelled nice. Sort of like his
mum's 'Impulse' but not sickly sweet or anything like that. And he was
tanned, not burned brown like lots of his friends, but nicely tanned. Neil
wasn't that tanned. He was creamy ivory because his light skin burned
easily, so he usually kept a T shirt on.

"You can take your T-shirt off. If you want to, I mean. Much cooler this
way."

Neil fought with his sweaty shirt, wrestling over his, and stuffing it down
the side of the passenger seat. He began to hitch up his jeans but decided
to leave them half down his underpants. He leaned back cradling his head in
his hands and enjoyed the rush of cool air over his face and chest.

"What's say we take the car up to the Slopes? Marvellous view from there."

Neil grunted. He didn't give a fuck about any view but he couldn't figure
how to get down to business.

"We can park, watch the yachts and speedboats. Have a cold drink."

A cold drink.

"I need lager," mumbled Neil.

The man looked sidelong at Neil. He was smiling. "Aren't you a bit young
for lager? I've got beer in the freeze-bag but maybe you'd like a Coke
better. Got that, too."

"It's lager, lager I need," said Neil. He looked at the man. He had brown
eyes, long lashes, a friendly smile. "It's not for me. It's for my mates,"
he explained, without really explaining. "I got to get a six pack. Foster's
or Heineken." He managed to get the explanation out coherently. "Do
anything for a six pack," he mumbled.

"I see," said the man. "Let's park at the Slopes and see what we can do."
He accelerated smoothly. "Hey, by the way, my name's Dan."

There was no reply.

"What's your name? Make one up if you want to."

"Uh, my name... my name's Neil." Shit, why did this guy have to be so nice?
It would be easy with a fat, old perv. His small hand disappeared into the
larger hand and was gently shaken.

"Hey, Neil, I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to
do. Okay? You're a nice kid. I like your company. Hey, here's the Slopes."
He turned the car onto the grass verge of the Slopes that sloped steeply
down to the pebble beach. A line of brightly-coloured beach huts were
strung across the lower slopes. Between them people, old and young, all
shapes and sizes, could be seen settled on the beach or frolicking in the
water. There were many more young than old, the latter taking shade by the
huts. In the middle distance speedboats blazed parallel to the shore;
farther out yachts glided by as serene as swans on the river.

"Here, use these."

Neil found a pair of binoculars pressed into his hands. He leaned out of
the window and ran them across the scene. Wow - everything leapt with
disturbing clarity into view. His "Wow" was audible and brought a chuckle
from... from... the man. He turned. "Hey, mister, what's your...? Shit,
sorry. Sorry, Dan. Forgot for a moment." Next moment the boy yelped as he
felt a frozen can pressed into his belly.

"Hey, what the... Oh, it's my Coke. Thanks, mister. Thanks, Dan. Fuck me,
it's freezin'." He heard Dan's laugh again, leaned out of the window, and
worked the can open. Then he leaned out of the window, sipping at the Coke,
and training the 'nocs' on whatever took his fancy. "This is the life, this
is the fuckin' life..." Neil felt Dan's fingers run down his spine, and
froze for a moment. "What the fuck. The guy wasn't doing any harm, and,
shit, it felt good." Made him feel wanted. Made him happy to be there, not
alone, not on his own, in company, with a friend.

Time slipped by. It must have. His Coke was finished. His belly was
gurgling happily. Neil turned from the window, laid down the empty can and
the binoculars, and stretched himself backwards in the seat, arms high
above his head. "Christ," he could almost go to sleep. He felt Dan's
fingertips run across his belly, fiddle with his belly button. "Still damn
hot, isn't it? Look how you're sweating. Must be all that Coke." The boy
watched the man's fingertips run across his stomach, across his chest, down
to where his boxers met his skin, trace the line - again, and again, and
again.

Neil felt himself getting hard. He tried to will his stiffy away, but his
penis was having none of that. He could see the outline rising under the
denim. It was so hard it was beginning to ache. He felt it throb. He felt
the man's fingers grasp it gently and work it into a vertical
position. Felt it hot and hard against his pubic area. The man took his
fingers away. Waited. The boy couldn't look at his face. But he cradled his
head on his hands again, stretched back and closed his eyes. He heard the
whispered word - "Lift" - and raised his bottom from the car seat. He heard
the man's whispered "beautiful" - and

fingers were stroking his hard-on, the tips running up and down his
shaft. Other fingers played with his balls. If only he were bigger... He
felt the fingers ease his foreskin back until the skin tightened round the
joiny bit. Fingers, so gentle, so caressing, so unhurried. He felt his
foreskin being pulled forward over the head, then pulled down again - and
again, and again. His bumhole tightened in response - again and again.

Then he felt more. What was that? Warm and wet. Closing over his
erection. His hard-on felt huge. Of course it wasn't huge. But it felt
it. He'd measured it with his clear Perspex rule. It was almost 4 inches
hard. Was that good for a kid of twelve? He might look young, but he had
the dick of a twelve year old, maybe of a teenager, maybe even - "Uh!" His
bumhole clenched real tight that time. He felt his balls rise. That
happened more and more when he was cumming. He could only squirt a few
milky spurts but there was definitely more of it. He kept his eyes closed
and... "Damn it! Not Charlie again. That couldn't be right. That was perv
stuff." He tried to conjure up one of the older girls in his school, but
all he saw was his mum, face down on the bed, mumbling, "No, not
there. Don't like it there." But he'd closed the door and crept back to the
couch he called bed. "Aw, what the fuck. Charlie wouldn't mind. Or at least
he'd never know." He lay back and surrendered to the dazzling image.

Too much. His bum was bouncing off the seat. He was pushing himself up and
into the man's mouth. Hot lips were tight around his shaft. A finger
tickled that joiny bit between his balls and his bum hole. He pushed
himself up hard, held himself there, and felt himself pump, jet, and squirt
into the wonderful warm wetness that held him so firmly, yet gently. "Uh,
uh, uh..." He heard a squeaky voice and realised it was his. He fell back
against the seat again - blushing. Not because he was ashamed of what he'd
done but because he'd enjoyed it so much. He shouldn't have enjoyed it so
much, shouldn't have enjoyed it at all. It was just business, just a
business deal. But he felt the glow spread from his genitals till it
suffused his whole body. Then he heard the voice again - "Lift" - and he
did, and his boxers and jeans were pulled up. Not all the way but at least
he was decent now. He risked a look at Dan.

Dan was looking straight ahead. His face was expressionless. Then he licked
his lips and smiled. Neil knew everything was okay. He turned at looked
down at the boy.

"You're beautiful, did you know that, Neil? You're beautiful, every bit of
you."

Neil coloured and lowered his eyes.

"Fuck'nhell," he said under his breath. Dan had a hard-on, a stiffy, and it
was huge. Under his cream-coloured slacks the outline looked like a bit of
garden hose. Not even Charlie or Robert had a cock like that. Not even when
they were hard and jerking. Dan's eyes followed the boy's. He
laughed. "Sorry, Neil, but that's what you do to me. I'd let you feel it
but I'd cum like a geyser, and I need these pants for tonight."

For a moment Neil wondered why Dan wouldn't want to cum like a geezer, and
then blurted out his question. "Don't you like girls, women, I mean? Are
you really a ... " He couldn't bring himself to say the word.

Dan's eyes held his own. "Well, I like women. I like their company. But I
don't love women, well, not in the way you mean. Don't know why. It's just
the way it's been since I can't remember."

"And what about... you know?"

"Men?" said Dan. "Nope, don't love them either. Never have. No, that's not
really true. When I was your age... But, shit, you don't want to hear
ancient history." He was smiling again. "So I guess that makes me a pervert
or a ..." It was Dan's turn to be unable to complete the thought. "But
fuck, look at the time. I have to..."

"Can't. Don't have a watch," interrupted Neil.

"It's nearly 4.30. I've got to get home. Got to get you home, too. And got
to get your six pack."

"Great," said Neil, recalling what the whole deal had been about.

"Where do you live?"

Neil gave him rough directions to Charlie's place, not mentioing it was his
building, too.

"Good. That's not too far. We'll stop off and get your six pack. I'll stick
it in a carrier bag. Keep it there till you get to your mate's. Okay?"

"Okay," confirmed Neil. This was great. They were friends
now. Conspirators. Maybe criminals even. Batman and Robin. No, that was the
wrong side.

Dan swung the car back along West Beach Road.

They go to an off-license. Dan went in, leaving Neil in charge of the car,
bought the six pack - Foster's - and returned. It only took a couple of
minutes to reach his street. Neil felt a wave of disappointment. The
adventure was over. He'd never see Dan again.

"Hey, I was thinking. Can I...?"

Their words weren't simultaneous. Their words weren't identical. But boy
and man meant exactly the same thing.

"Sorry, I can't make tomorrow, Neil. Working." He sensed the boy's
disappointment. "But Friday okay for you?"

"Same place. Same time," chirped the boy.

"Same time. But not same place. Not outside those toilets."

"Where then? Where?"

"Outside the restaurant, the seafood restaurant. And, Neil..."

"Yeh?"

"Make sure you're hungry when you get there. Promise?"

The boy's eyes shone. "Promise."

"Now get that sweet little ass out of here. Go and play with your
mates. And, Neil, you know how to keep a secret, don't you?"

"You bet YOUR sweet ass I do," laughed the boy. And he was out of the car
and scampering to Charlie's, his 'story' how got the six pack in the
making. He didn't have to look back. He knew Dan would be there on
Friday. And so would he.


***


"And who bought the booze again?" asked Charlie.

"One of my mum's boyfriends. I told yah."

"Pretty neat," smiled the older boy. "You nicked a tenner from one of your
mum's boyfriends, and got another one of those assholes to buy the lager
for you."

"'Course I had to let him have a can," explained Neil smiling at his own
ability to tell the story again with exactly the same detail.

"Bright little fucker, aren't we," said the older boy, draping his arm
round the younger's shoulder. "It sure made the afternoon."

Neil's chest swelled with pride. Not only was Charlie praising him but he'd
actually dropped an arm round him. Shit, he was gonna do it, he was gonna
get in the West End boys. "And there's more where that came from," he
couldn't resist adding.

The boys were strolling down Albert Street. The sun was sinking fast out
over West Beach. Charlie and Neil lived in the same high rise block a
couple of streets on. A fuckin' dump, all council-owned. Practically nobody
in work, everybody depending on the next Giro, hanging on by the skin of
their teeth. Sydney Street was almost in sight.

"Charlie," said Neil, furious that his voice was so light, so
high. "Charlie, can I... do you think... could I come out with your guys
tonight? I won't be no trouble honest. Mum's got a new boyfriend, and
he's... he's a fat, ugly bastard, and..."

Charlie looked down into the boy's green eyes. "Christ, the kid was a
looker," he thought. He paused, shrugged, and said, "'Course you can. Got a
hood?"

Neil almost flung an arm round Charlie but held back just in time. "'Course
I have." He tried lowering the pitch of his voice, but only managed to
sound even younger.

"And tell you what," added Charlie. "You can come into our place for your
dinner. Mum's got enough beans to feed Iraq, and she never minds another
kid at the table. But we gotta be quick. We're meeting up at the Odeon at
half nine. Aw, shit, I forgot you were there this afternoon. You know what
we're doin' tonight."

Neil squeezed his legs together. He was gonna pee himself with joy, he just
knew it. But that would fuck things up, and he sure wasn't going to fuck up
the perfect end to a perfect day.


***


The man and the boy lay on their backs on a travelling rug in a grassy
clearing in Birch Wood.

"Maybe he's not gonna do anything," thought Neil. He was comfortable, his
belly full but not straining. The ham and cheese sandwiches were just
great. Ham AND cheese together in brown bread with seeds in it. He could
still pick out a couple of the seeds between his teeth. The Coke made him
burp now and again. And now and again he had to squeeze out a little fart,
hoping Dan didn't hear it. He glanced sideways at Dan. His eyes were still
closed. Maybe he really was asleep. He sure was a good-looking dude. He
even had a dimple in his chin. Charlie had the same kind of dimple. His mum
said men with dimples... but he didn't want to think about her, and her
men. He wanted to lie there in the shade, in the cool, and...

He glanced at his watch. He studied his watch. It was a present from
Dan. It wasn't a very expensive watch. As Dan said, that would be a stupid
thing to give him. But it was a nice watch, a Casio digital. And it was his
first watch, and already he loved it. He turned his attention back to
Dan. Was he going to... were they going to? He reached down to straight his
stiffy. "Christ, what's wrong with me?" He got hard-ons all the time. Even
when he wasn't thinking of anything sexy, it just popped up, and sometimes
stayed hard until it ached. Wanking helped a bit, but not much. A couple of
hours later and...

"Shit, Dan, don't just lie there. You brought me here. You like me. Do
something!" The thoughts raced around inside his head. "You like me. We've
talked for ages. Well, I've done most of the talking. But you ask such good
questions. It's easy with you. Not like home, where mum just gives orders,
and the boyfriends grunt at you. Not like in the Gang where you have to
watch what you say, if you dare say anything. Christ, Dan, don't just like
there...

"Do something!"

The last words came out as a yelp. Neil half-rolled, half-leapt on Dan,
pinning him down in a wrestling hold. He grabbed the man's wrists and
extended them over his head. He felt the resistance. Good, at least he was
awake. "I gotcha," he growled, leaning his face down close to Dan's. His
eyes were still closed but there was a smile on his lips. Neil knew what
he'd do. He'd drool on that. That's what they did to little kids at
school. Pinned them on their backs, knees on their arms, and drooled on
their faces.

Neil made saliva in his mouth, leaned forward, and... at the last moment he
kissed Dan. He actually kissed him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd
kissed anybody or anybody'd kissed him. And here he was now, kissing a man,
practically a stranger. What would Dan think? He'd think Neil was a little
sissy, a pansy, a poofter. But Dan was pressing his lips against his own,
opening his mouth, letting his big tongue play against his lips. Neil
opened his own lips a fraction, and the big tongue was pushing in, seeking
entry, insistent, relentless. The boy opened his mouth and the big tongue
slid inside, seeming to fill him up, exploring every corner, then
retreating to invite the smaller tongue to invade his own space. Neil
followed, his little pink tongue disappeared into Dan's mouth, their saliva
slopping together. He felt he was being swallowed up, felt Dan could
swallow his tongue, his lips, his mouth, his head, and then gobble him
right down to his skinny ankles.

The boy was grinding down. He wanted to grind his crotch against the man's,
but he was small, far too small, and could only grins against his
chest. "Ah, what the fuck." It gave him that great feeling anyway. Then he
felt his jeans and boxers sliding down, being slid down. "Aw, shit, Dan'll
feel my hard on. He doesn't even have his shirt on. He's bound to feel it."
But that's what the boy wanted, skin against skin. He felt his jeans and
boxers reach his ankles as he continued to grind into the soft/hard warmth
of Dan's chest. He giggled a little because the man's chest hairs tickled
his dick, the foreskin already fully retracted.

Neil began fucking motions on the man's chest, his penis slipping backwards
and forwards along the groove. He wasn't sure if he was doing it
right. He'd seen men going up and down on his mother in this position, so
he must be doing it near right. He was still leaning forward, his mouth
fastened to Dan's. The sloppy circling went on, but sometimes Dan was
kissing his whole face, eyes, nose, ears, everything. He liked the
roughness of Dan's skin against his own. He liked the smell of Dan. He felt
sweat trickle down his back. Knew that droplets of sweat were falling from
his long hair that stuck to Dan's skin. He speed up his fucking
motions. Not intentionally. He wasn't doing anything intentionally. His
body had a mind of its own.

Dan's hands were under the boy's buttocks. Lifting him, raising him,
persuading him forwards. Neil wondered what for. He couldn't keep kissing
Dan like this. Then he realised where his dick was. The tip was right at
the man's mouth. The boy leaned forward and the mouth swallowed him, lips
firm against the hot, hard shaft. But the boy was puzzled. The man wasn't
sucking. Only holding him firmly between his lips. The boy placed his
flattened hands on either side of the man's head, then began the fucking
motion again. Backwards and forwards. In and out. Again and again. And the
man was changing the pressures on his stiffy, sometimes hard, sometimes
soft, but never actually sucking. The boy had to do all the work, and it
was... fuckin' great. Faster, harder, deeper, until the tip of his cock
bounced against the man's the throat.

And the man was... the man was spreading the boy's buttocks, pulling them
gently apart. A shiver of fear ran through the boy. Maybe Dan was going to
fuck him. He'd seen his mum being fucked like this. Sitting astraddle a
man. Riding his cock. And sometimes the words, "No, not in there. I don't
like it in there." It hurt in there. He knew it would hurt in there. But
Dan had his chinos on, and he wouldn't want to mess them up, so, no, he
wasn't going to fuck him. And the air felt nice up there, cool and
nice. And Dan's finger tickling his... his what? What would he call it?
Yeh, his bumhole. Dan was tickling his bumhole. Well, if he enjoyed
that. And Neil rode on, moving his hips backwards and forwards to drive his
prick in and out of Dan's mouth. Wow, he was fucking, actually fucking. If
only Charlie could see him now. The thought of Charlie watching him made
his penis harden even more. His balls were beginning to ache.

The finger tip played with his bumhole, pressed gently against the
opening. Tiny, so tiny. But it began to give, just a fraction at a time,
but definitely to give. Then the muscle relaxed. The tip pushed in. But
dry, o, so dry. Then it was gone. A flutter of disappointment. Then the
finger was at the boy's lips. He opened his mouth, sucked it in, sucked on
it, the way his baby sister sucked at his mum's tit. It was a little bitter
but not horrible, far from horrible. Then the finger withdrew, and the tip
was back at his bumhole, pressing again and again, until it broke through
and slid in. Deeper and deeper until it was all the way in. And it didn't
hurt - much; and it felt - good. And the boy began to ride it. Like a
little jockey. Riding the finger up his arse while his stiffy, hard as a
milk bottle, drove in and out of the man's hot, wet mouth.

Oh, let it go on forever.

Forever and forever.

But it couldn't. The boy sensed it couldn't. It was like wanking but not
like wanking. You had some control over wanking. When you're wanking you
can slow up, stop for a while, think about something else, and then start
again. But this was different. This grabbed you, seized you, was in control
of you. Now you're growling. Moaning. Saying dirty things. You know you're
going somewhere, you have to get there, you don't want to get there, but
you do, oh yes, you do, you do, you do.

The boy spurts into the man's throat. The man's middle finger drives deep,
all the way, stays in deep. The boy rocks above him, head thrown back,
mouth open, teeth tight together. And he spurts, little squirts that seem
to empty his entire body. The boy falls forward, his cock still in the
man's mouth, his sweet crotch pressed across the man's face. Limp as a wet
rag.

Gently the man eases the boy out. Rolls him sideways. Lowers him gently
onto the tartan rag. Sees him stretched out. Arm across his eyes. T-shirt
up to his nipples. Jeans and boxers down at his ankles.

The man smiles. Because the boy is still hard. His erection has barely
softened. A drip of cum at the tip of his cock. His balls still tightly
raised. He slides down the boy's body. Kisses the drop away. Then slides
further down to ease up the boy's boxers and jeans. Gently zips him
up. Then lies back to watch the sunlight dappling the trees.

Minutes go by. Five, ten, fifteen...

Neil turned to face Dan, propped himself up on his elbow. He gave him a
quizzical look. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

Neil wasn't sure how to ask the question, but "Don't you want to...?
Shouldn't I...? You know, what I did?"

"Cum, you mean?" said Dan.

"Yeh, that's it. Don't you wanna to cum?"

"Yeh, 'course I do. But I want to enjoy you for a while."

"Enjoy me?"

"Yes. Just being here with you." Dan smiled.

"Oh, well... Dan, can I ask you something - somethings?"

"Of course, you can. You can ask me anything."

"Well..." and now the boy's voice is serious. "Why did you put your finger
up my bum? It hurt at first. Then it felt good. But how does it work?"

For the next half hour Dan answered the 101 questions pubescent boys want
to ask in Sex Education classes, but never get the answer to. Patiently he
made sure the boy understood the answers. He was surprised by the boy's
acuteness, his intelligence, the way he pursued and worried a question
until he got what he needed to know.

"So your hole closes up afterwards?" he persisted.

"Yes, it does. Just think when you're constipated, Neil, or when you do a
really big shit. Your hole has to open up to let the stuff out, then it has
to close up again. and it does."

"It has to, I guess, or you'd keep on dumping all over the place," laughed
the boy.

"But that doesn't mean you go around shoving any old things up it, just to
test it," said Dan.

"Fuck, I wouldn't do that," protested the boy. "I'm no fuckin'
pervert..... oh, sorry."

Dan laughed.

"Hey, what's the time, loverboy. You've got a watch, haven't you?"

Neil raised his wrist, regarded his watch studiously and announced, "It's
10 minutes and 31 seconds past 5 o'clock."

"Time to be going."

"Aw, do we have to?"

"Yep, we have to. But would you like to...?"

Neil held his breath.

"Go to a movie on Saturday."

"A movie? In a cinema? With you? You bet I would!"

"Okay, it's a deal," grinned Dan. "Meet you at Woolworth's at four
o'clock. Look in the paper. You choose the movie."

"Whoopee!"

The boy flung himself against the man.

"Hey, hold off a minute," Dan laughed. "What's that I feel down there. Not
another hard-on?"

Neil grinned and pressed himself against.

"'t's not another hard-on. 'Cos the first one didn't go down."

The cinema was almost empty at four thirty on a Saturday afternoon. "Well,
it would be, wouldn't it?" thought Neil to himself. Snuggled up against Dan
in the posh seats, the expensive seats, a box even, the boy puffed out a
little with pride. "If only Charlie and Robby could see me now," he thought
but then corrected himself. He'd be fucked if Charlie, Robby, or any of the
gang could see him. They'd know immediately that Dan was as perv, and
they'd know immediately that he, Neil, was a whore. He'd heard men use that
words towards his mother. They didn't pronounce it that way; they called
her a 'hoor', but he wasn't dumb, he knew how to spell it. Was that what he
was - a boy-whore? Okay, Dan was nice to him, generous; he'd given him the
beer, the watch, and brought him to the cinema. Funny, he didn't feel like
he was a whore. He'd feel happy with Dan even if the man bought him, gave
him nothing. He just liked being with Dan. And though Dan was a perv - Neil
was honest enough to admit that to himself - that didn't seem to
matter. Dan wanted sex with him, had sex with him, but he liked it, enjoyed
it, wanted it, wanted more of it. Even these thoughts made his dick go
hard. He wished, he wished, he wished Dan would touch him, but Dan seemed
completely involved in the movie, didn't seem interested in sex at all. But
surely that's what they'd come for, to sit in the dark and feel each other
up, like boyfriend and girl friend.

Feel each other up?

That meant him feeling Dan up.

Aw, fuck it, he was bored. Dan wouldn't mind, would he? If he...

Neil slid is small hand into Dan's lap. He ran his fingers where he thought
Dan's prick would be. There was something there all right, something soft
and squelchy. He prodded it with his fingers, tried to find out its
shape. The shape begins to change shape. To harden, lengthen, elongate,
like a lazy snake sliding out into the sunlight. He could run his finger
either side of the shape, the tube, now. Christ, it was big. And though it
felt soft to the touch it was also hard and getting harder.

"Hey, down there, don't bite off more than you can chew," came the whisper.

"Fuck it. I ain't gonna chew it," the boy whispered back, "but I might give
it a good licking," he added, giggling as the joke dawned on him. Dan's
hard-on, his stiffy - it was funny to think of a man having a 'hard-on', a
'stiffy'. That was language for kids. He must remember to ask Dan what
grown-ups called their hard cocks. "Maybe they call them Nigel," he giggled
to himself. The hard flesh bulged against fabric of the man's slack,
pushing the zipper into view. The boy had a hard time working the zipper
down. But finally he was there. Sitting on Dan's right, Neil burrowed his
fingers under Dan's fly. Fuck it, he was wearing boxer shorts. But boxer
shorts were good. Boxer shorts had big openings, so "Here we go", and his
fingers burrowed into the opening.

"Jesus wept," the boy gasped, almost under his breath. It was that big. It
was hot and hard and huge. 'Huge' wasn't a word Neil used very often, but
he couldn't think of a better one. Dan's hard-on was hot and hard and
huge. He could hardly get his fingers round it. And it was hairy! At least
there was a lot of hair at the base of the man's cock and it tickled
against his fingers. Actually it felt nice, and Neil wondered for a moment
if he'd ever be as hairy as that, as 'huge' as that. He could feel it. He
could touch it. He had to see it. He just had to.

The boy worked the man's erection out of his boxer shorts, out of his
flies, until it stood fiercely erect. Gently with his fingers he rolled the
foreskin back down the head until the purple glance was naked, the little
eye already seeping... what had Dan called the fluid? - pre-cum, yes,
pre-cum, that was it. Funny that he didn't make much pre-cum himself, but
he felt Dan's pre-cum run down onto his hand. He guessed he should work
Dan's hard-on as Dan worked his. The shaft felt hard as steel yet curiously
soft, and it seemed to beat beneath his fingertips. He fingered the length
of the tube running along the underside of the shaft. He knew its name. Dan
told him. It was called the urethra. He wasn't sure he could spell the
word, but he knew what it did. It was the canal that carried urine and
sperm out of the body. He was quite proud he'd remembered that. Dan had
explained lots of things, and, unlike school where he rarely listened, Neil
remembered most of them.

He wondered what Dan's pre-cum would taste like. He'd had a little taste of
his own, and his own 'cum', but it hadn't tasted of very much at all. It
wasn't a taste you could dislike but you wouldn't fancy it splashed all
over your chips, a bit slimy for that. He giggled at his own thoughts, and
then turned his attention seriously to the work in hand. What would a
little kiss taste like? Dan had kissed his own hard-on a thousand times; he
seemed to love kissing Neil's cock, almost as much as sucking it. But he
could give Dan's cock a real kiss. The head was so big he could plant his
lips right on it.

Shit, he'd do it. Dan wouldn't mind.

He lowered his head and planted his lips against the man's engorged
glans. He held them there, then flicked out his little tongue and slurped
some of the juice into his mouth. It was sweet! No, it was salty! No, it
was sweet and salty! He ran the tip of his tongue where the head joined the
shaft - a lot of pre-cum was gathered there, and he slurped it in. He
coughed a little as it slid over his throat.

Kissing it was fine. Would Dan mind if he sucked it? It would be like
sucking a huge plum or a small apple. He knew he couldn't the whole cock
in. Not the way Dan did to him. Taking in his cock and his balls at the
same time. He doubted he could get even half way down the shaft, but he'd
have a go. He stretched his mouth wide until his jaws clicked, and then
slid his mouth over the head, and let head and a couple of inches slide
into his mouth and throat. Almost immediately he gagged. His eyes
watered. He slid the thick column of flesh away. He wouldn't suck it this
time; well, just the head, but he'd lich the shaft, and he'd play with
Dan's balls while he did it. Down he went, first pressing the hot, hard
shaft against his cheek. It felt comforting, that was the word -
comforting. He liked the feel, he liked the smell, he liked the taste, he
liked it, loved it. Mmmmm... a hundred kisses and a thousand licks. His
very own "Lollipop Dan".

Neil had no idea how many minutes he'd been down on Dan. He felt his
shoulders drawn gently upwards. Felt himself reluctantly releasing his
'lollipop'. His eyes were glazed as he looked up into Dan's face,
flickering in the changing cinema light.

"What... what?" the boy murmured.

"That's enough, Neil. That's enough for now," came the whisper.

"No, no, I want to..."

"I know. But it's going to get really messy down there. You know what will
happen."

"Yeh, yeh, I know. I know you're gonna cum. You're gonna shoot your load. I
know there'll be a lot of it. Lots more than me. I know. But it's
okay. I'll catch it, all of it, I promise. It'll go straight into my tummy,
honest."

Neil heard Dan laugh, but the laughter was warm, not unkind.

"You won't be able to swallow it all, Neil. Believe me. Then we'll both end
up a right mess. Now cuddle into me. The big film's about to start."

Neil sighed. "Okay, you know best. But was I... was I doing okay?"

"Brilliantly, boy. You were doing Fucking Ace!"

Neil cuddled into Dan. "Well, that's okay then." He paused, then added,
"But, Dan... no stopping me next time. Promise?"

"Promise."

"That's all right then. And, Dan?"

"Yes, Neil."

"Where's the fuckin' popcorn?"

***

"Where the fuck you get this stuff?"

"I told you. I nicked it from my mum's... boyfriend."

The word 'boyfriend' stuck in Neil's throat. He knew they weren't really
his mum's 'boyfriends'. The guys who came and went might be somebody's
friend, but they definitely weren't his mum's, or his. A couple of them had
wanted to be his 'uncle', and one of them, a real creep, had wanted to be
his 'daddy', but the idea of 'friends' had never crossed his mind.

"Fuckin' little liar," grinned Charlie. "None of those assholes would give
you the steam of his shit, let alone class beer like this." The boy took
another gulp and settled deeper into the tatty old sofa. Neil grinned
back. There was a note of laughter in Charlie's snarl; that meant things
were cool, safe. Charlie's front room was empty except for the two
boys. Funny that, they were a wild bunch of 'hardmen' but they all went
home for tea, even Robby had to be home for tea else there'd be hell to
play. Charlie's mum wouldn't be in till six so they had the place to
themselves tho' Neil was only there because, as he'd admitted to himself,
he'd brought half a dozen cans of beer. He was just about finishing his
first, Charlie was on is fourth.

"Fuckin' five o'clock, and it's still boiling," Charlie growled pushing his
dirty white t-shirt up and over his head till it lay taut and stretched
across his shoulders. "Can hardly breathe in here," he sighed, rubbing is
sweaty belly. Auburn hairs peeped up and out of his boxer shorts, his jeans
being halfways down his skinny hips. Neil blushed but kept looking. Charlie
was tough, no denying that, but there was something incredibly sexy about
him. Maybe the shaggy dark hair, maybe those thick eyebrows, definitely
those eyes so deep brown you couldn't see any pupils. And those shoulders,
broad and wide, Neil felt he could sit behind Charlie's neck, his legs
dangling down the older boy's chest, his little hands leaning on those
shoulders, so strong they could carry the whole fuckin' world.

"C'mere."

"What?"

"I said 'C'mere'. It's not a fuckin' invitation. C'mere."

Neil approached the boy warily.

"Now sit down. No, not there, you little fart. Across my knees, sit
there. No, not facing the tele, facing me. Sit there." Little belches
punctuated the instructions.

Neil sat down, one leg either side of Charlie's legs. Charlie pulled the
boy into him.

"Now where the fuck did you get this beer? And that other stuff you've been
getting. Don't fucking' look away. Look at me."

Neil looked into those fathomless eyes. Shit, Charlie was beautiful. He
wanted to lean forward and... "I told ya'. I been nicking them."

"You been selling this cute little ass to your mum's boyfriends," murmured
Charlie, kneading Neil's buttock with his right hand, sipping his beer from
the can in his right.

"The fuck I have!" protested Neil. "I'll punch your fuckin' mouth if
you..." The boy's reaction was so vehement Charlie held up the can as if to
protect his face. "Hey, hey, cool it, baby," laughed Charlie. "I was only
asking."

"Well, you shouldn't..." He lowered his face. He found his eyes level with
Charlie's upper chest. "Shit, why do his nipples have to be so...?" It
would be so easy to open his mouth, lean forward, take one in his lips. Dan
loved that. "Bet Charlie would, too. Or would he just fuckin' kill me?
Shit, I'm a little fag, a little poof, a queer..."

"Ain't your fault you're so fuckin' cute," murmured Charlie. He pushed back
the hair from Neil's face, tucking it behind the boy's ears. "And you smell
so...so sweet. Your skin, it's like..."

"Could Charlie really be saying this stuff?"

"An' if you ever tell anybody I said this stuff, I'll fuckin' kill ya. Got
it."

"Got it," whispered Neil, unable yet to meet Charlie's eyes.

"But what the fuck? It's fuckin' boilin'. We're bored, and we're passing
the time. Just passing the time. And drinking too much beer. Yeh," he
laughed, and it was a sweet laugh, "let's blame it on the beer." At last
Neil was able to look him in the eye and join in the laughter. "Yeh, let's
blame it on the beer. But I tell you something, Charlie."

"What you gonna tell me, Neil, baby?"

"You tell anyone and," he paused a moment, then... "I'll fuckin' kill ya."

"It's a deal," grinned Charlie, a fuckin' deal."

Charlie's eyes flickered, closed. His head slumped. Bubbles escaped from
his nose. He was drunk, dead drunk.

Neil rescued the can from Charlie's limp hold. He slid from his
knees. Knelt on the sticky, stained carpet. "Holy fuck," he whispered to
himself. "Did that just happen? Does Charlie like me, really like me, that
way."

He looked at the boy's belly as it rose slightly, fell and rose
again. Looked at the curly auburn hairs, the little ribbing on the skin
from where Charlie's boxers had slid. Noticed the hosepipe that pushed up
beneath Charlie's zip. Neil giggled. That was no hosepipe. He checked the
boy's face, his breathing, then ran his fingertips the length of the
'hosepipe'. That was living flesh, he could feel its heat through the
denim. More pressure, up and down, check its length. Shit, it was
thickening, lengthening. Could you get a hard-on while you were
unconscious? Well, you could get one while you were asleep, he got plenty
of those. But when you were unconscious. Must remember to ask Dan.

'Course he'd seen Charlie's dick before, he'd even seen it hard, even seen
him and Robby jacking off in front of a porno movie. But he'd never seen
them cum, they'd always kicked his sorry little arse out of the place
before they'd shot their loads. While he was doing the thinking, Neil was
edging down the top of Charlie's boxers. "Christ, it's only hair, how can
hair be so fuckin' beautiful." It was thick, it was auburn, and there was
lots of it. And, shit, that was his cock, or at least the head of
it. Fuck'n hell, it was thick, purplish, like a purplish mushroom. What did
his mum call them? Button mushrooms, that was it. Charlie's knob had a
purple button mushroom on top. And the mushroom had an eye, no, not an eye,
a little mouth. So did his own, of course, but not so... what word was he
looking for? ... not so obvious as this. And the eye was leaking. And the
head was all slimy. He knew what that was, that was pre-cum. Neil felt a
shiver or pride; Dan had taught him so much.

Wonder what it tasted like? Dan's was sweet and salty, more salty than
sweet. Wonder what Charlie's tasted like. Probably tasted of that fuckin'
beer. Neil didn't like that beer, didn't actually like any beer, but you
couldn't say that and be in the gang. And at least the beer had got him
where he was now. Where was? Yeh, he was on his knees, between Charlie's
legs, edging down his boxers to set the shaft popping free. Fuckin' hell,
it was big and thick. The shaft a kind of dirty pink ivory with that tube -
he knew the word, the urethra (thanks, Dan) - running along the
underside. Just a little taste. Just to check things out. The boy lowered
his head, dirty blond hair falling round his face, lips sliding over the
head and first couple of inches of Charlie's sleepy erection.

"Nice, really nice, more sweet than salty," Neil murmured, well, would have
murmured if he hadn't been letting more and more of the warm, firm flesh
slide into his throat. "Wonder if I can get his stuff down to his
knees. See his balls. Suck him off properly. Let's see..."

Shit, those were footsteps on the stairs. Charlie's mum sometimes came home
early, when he bunions were playing her up. "Fuck'n hell." Unceremoniously
he slid from the boy's cock, gulped over whatever was mixed in with his
saliva, yanked up his jeans and boxers, kicked the cans under the couch,
dived to the sink, turned on the tap, and started washing the pile of dirty
plates.

The front door opened. Steps along the lobby. Charlie's mum, fat, sweaty,
carrying two stuffed plastic shopping bags, heaved her way into the
room. Looked around, caught her breath, looked around, caught some more
breath, and...

"What a dump! Oh, Neil, it's you." She managed a weak smile. "It's the
heat, the fuckin' heat. It's like an oven out there, a fuckin' furnace in
here. What a fuckin' dump. What you doing? The washin' up. You're a good
lad, Neil, I always said that. A good boy. Look at that... pissed again, I
bet. Just like his fuckin' father. A useless drunken..."

"I have to go, Mrs Potter. Be late for my tea. See you later."

"Oh, you going, Neil. Stay if you like. There's a cold beer in the
fridge. Hate drinkin' alone, and that useless fucker..."

By the time she reached "that useless fucker", Neil was halfway down the
stairs, taking them two, three at a time.

"Jesus H. Christ! Charlie likes me, he really likes me." He burped, and the
taste of Charlie filled his throat.

***

"Can I stop now?"

"No, go on."

"But I'm tired."

"No, you're not. You're just lazy."

Neil sighed and bowed his head again. He stuck the end of the pencil
between his lips and frowned in concentration. He read:

"If rat = tar, what does bat = ?"

Well, that was easy enough. He quickly scribbled 'tab' and moved on.

Oh, no, not another bunch of fuckin' dominoes. Count the numbers. Turn the
dominoes around. Working out the spots missing on the last domino. It
wasn't that he found solving the problems difficult, it was just they were
so boring. Well, he'd show Dan a thing or two. He'd race through the lot
and get all of them right this time. He twisted his shoulders, then felt
Dan's big thumbs began to work the little muscles in his shoulder
blades. He sighed. They felt so good, especially through the linen shirt
Dan had given him after their shower. He'd never worn linen before, didn't
really know what it was, but it felt so cool against his skin. In the
background he could hear the washing machine gurgling away. His clothes
must be nearly done by now. Then Dan was going to hang them in the
patio. They'd catch the sea breezes there, Dan said. All his clothes - his
T-shirt, his jeans, his socks, his underpants. He felt colour creep round
his neck. He'd been relieved he'd put on them undies fresh that
morning. Imagine Dan finding little skid marks in his underpants. Not that
there often were, Neil was pretty good at keeping himself clean, but it
could have happened. Imagine the shame, the disgrace, the
ignominy. 'Ignominy'... he'd found that word in one of Dan's magazines. He
liked it, it had a real ring to it.

Funny thing was he was able to keep ploughing through all the questions on
the papers in front of him. It was like he had two brains, one that was
answering these silly questions, and one that was dealing with real
stuff. Maybe not two brains, maybe one brain split down the middle. He'd
read something like that: the human brain was sort of split down the middle
but joined by a stem, so maybe he was right.

"Shit, there done. All fuckin' done. Can we play backgammon now?" Dan had
taught the boy backgammon; Neil hadn't won a game yet, but he knew he was
getting closer.

"Nope, not yet," came the voice from behind him. "We have to check these
answers first." Neil flung his head down onto his folded arms, his blond
hair scattering either side of his face. "And stop using the f-word so
much. It doesn't suit you."

"Fuckin' hell," Neil thought. "Dan's just like a teacher sometimes. No,
he's worse than a teacher. He expects everything."

The man slipped the papers out from beneath the boy's head. He took himself
to the couch on the left, sat down, and began to mark Neil's answers,
mostly in silence but with little grunts and 'mmmmmms' now and again. The
boy couldn't resist a sideways peep now and again. He hoped he'd done well,
but if he hadn't, he'd say "What the f...?" He stopped himself then
realised he was only thinking the f-word.

The silence grew heavier. The grunts and 'mmmmmmms' died away. Even the
washing machine joined in with a metallic clunk. The suspense was too
much. Neil sat up, looked at Dan. "Well?" shrilled his treble voice.

"Just adding up," said Dan. "96 - 97 - 98. Yep, that's right, 98 out of a
hundred."

"Is that good?" queried Neil.

"Good? It's brilliant. You're a little genius, a fucking little genius. Now
come here."

Neil leapt from the chair, slid across the highly-polished wood floor, and
threw himself onto of Dan, the papers scattering every where. Their bodies
twisted until the man lay full length on the couch with the boy stretched
out along him. "I told you so - I told you so - I told you so!" Every pause
was punctuated by the boy's lips smacking against the man's. Not even the
Cheshire cat could math their grins. Neil felt himself getting a
hard-on. He ground it into the man's belly. The man kneaded his small
muscly buttocks.

"Can we have sex now, Dan? Please, Dan, let's have sex?"

Dan laughed and swung his arms round the boy. "God, you're insatiable," he
breathed between kisses. "No, we can't. You've already have a shower,
you're smelling as fresh as a daisy, and you're clothes will be dry in half
an hour. Now get your sweet little ass off me. Get your stuff out of the
washing machine, and hang it up on the patio. I'll sort out some ice-cream,
and raspberries, and set out the backgammon. Who knows, this might be your
lucky day."

Neil sighed and swung himself off Dan. He stood there looking down. "See,
see! You've got a hard-on, too," he yelped.

"But I know how to control myself," laughed Dan. "That's why I always win
at backgammon."

For a moment Neil saw red. "Well you won't win today, you fuckin' -
sorreee! -" Then the boy burst into laughter, flounced away, stopped,
raised the tail of the borrowed shirt, bent, and waggled his bare bum at
Dan. A magazine, the one with the word 'ignominy' in it, connected full
force with the boy's arse. "Ouch!"

One of the best things about backgammon is that you can chatter while
you're playing. Not like chess, where everything was as silent as a
tomb. Neil liked chattering away, making all sorts of threats, about
throwing three doubles in a row, locking Dan in his tomb, and actually
winning best of five. But this time he couldn't get a word in. Dan was in
one of his serious moods, going on about the importance of the 11plus,
winning a place at grammar school, increasing his options, changing his
life, blah, blah, blah. The man didn't seem to understand. Neil was not
going to grammar school whatever happened. He just imagined explaining to
Charlie and Robby, "Yeh, well, I still wanna be in the gang, but not week
nights 'cos I got so much homework to do." His head'd be ripped off and his
neck shat in before he got to the end of the sentence. Only poofters went
to a grammar school, and that was a fact. He had a little laugh to
himself. He WAS a poofter, so maybe he SHOULD be going to grammar
school. And his mum. "Where the hell would she ever find the money to send
him to grammar school. Single mums on Giro checks did not send their kids
to grammar school, and that was a F.A.C.T.

"You're throw, Neil."

"Pardon?"

Shit, there he went again - "Pardon?" He'd picked that up from Dan, and on
him it sounded real poofy.

"It's your turn. You're a million miles way. Take a look. You're back in
your T-O-M-B. Neil assessed the position. Shit, how did so many of his men
get trapped? Aw, fuck it, never say die, he wasn't dead yet. He frowned,
narrowing his eyes and wrinkling his little nose. He'd get out of it, just
you wait and see, he'd get out of it.

The man observed the boy, wondering if he'd any idea how beautiful he
looked. Beauty, yes, and brains, too. And kind, and considerate,
good-hearted and generous. Dan sighed. He'd not only fallen in love with
Neil, but he loved him, too, and that made everything so simple, yet so
complicated. He looked down at the boy's head. His hair glistened like
gold, lighter now than in the shower when, plastered to his face, it has
highlighted those amazing cheek bones. Dan saw again the kneeling boy's
nose pressed against his hard column of flesh. Saw again the small tongue
flicker out to lick the swollen cockhead. Heard again the boy's silly song:
"My boy lollipop, you make my heart go giddiup," that died away as the
small mouth stretched to close over the swollen head. Saw the boy's cheeks
bulge as his head sank lower to let three or four inches slide into his
throat. Felt small fingers squeeze his scrotum, trace the perineum, and
tickle the hairs round his anus. How could such a small boy be so brave as
to tackle these adult male mysteries.

And later, as he dried the small body with a huge white warmed bath towel,
he listened to the questions, the endless questions:

"When will I start getting hair?"  "How do we make cum?"  "What really
happened to the dinosaurs?"  "What's cum made of?"  "What's gravity?"  "Why
do you like me so much?"  "Does fucking hurt?"  "Can we go to the bedroom
now?"

"No, we can't. You promised to do some work this afternoon?"

"Aw, fuck, do I have to?"

"Yes."

"Can you sex me up afterwards?"

"No."

"Well, can we play back gammon again?"

"Yes."

"Yes! Yes! Gotcha!"

Dan looked down. Neil was already into the endgame, rolling the dice -
"Another double!" - and flipping off his men until...

"I done it! I done it!"

"Yep, you've done it," corrected Dan.

"Yeh, that's what I said. I've done it. I've won a game."

The boy grew still, reached across the coffee table, and solemnly shook the
man's hand.

"Hey, Dan, I deserve a reward. Can we watch a DVD? That new science fiction
film. Can we, please, please?"

"Mmmmm... what about your mother?"

"Oh, she won't be in till late tonight. Not till 12 at least. She left a
note on the table. I'm to get chips, and watch TV. Honest."

"Cross your heart."

"Look. look, I'm crossing. I'm double-crossing."

"Okay then, sweetheart. Go check your things are dry. We'll go for a drive,
pick up that DVD, and a couple of pizzas. But you're home by 12, not a
minute later. I don't want you turning into a pumpkin."

Neil leapt to his feet, skipped towards the patio, turned, grinned, and
called back, "Hey, Dan, you were right. It IS my lucky day!"


***

Neil gave Dan a peck on the lips and bounced out of the car. He stood
watching till the car was out of sight. Under the lamplight he saw it was
half past eleven but it was still very warm. "Half an hour till mum gets
home," he thought as he whistled his way up the stairs. He fished in his
jeans for his key. Thank God his mum didn't make him wear it on a string
round is neck anymore, that was kids' stuff. As he turned the key, the door
swung open. He was immediately wary.

"Mum, mum, I'm home."

Nothing.

He stepped into the tiny hall. The stench of booze hit him hard. "Mum, it's
me, Neil."

A light in the living room flickered on, kept flickering, the naked bulb
was dying. The boy squinted to see.

"Well, hello, if it isn't baby Neil. Come on in, son. Keep me
company. You're fuckin' mum's no use. Passed out already."

Shit, it was Dave, mum's latest boyfriend. Fat, big beer gut, hairy, even
his back was hairy. Unshaven, a fag dangling from his fat red lips, can of
beer in his hand. "Come on in, baby. Over here, on the couch, near
me. Let's get to know each other."

"Where's my mum?"

"In there." Dave jerked his thumb in the direction of the bedroom
door. "Having a lie down."

"I'd better go in and see she's okay."

"Wouldn't go in there, son. She's having a lie down. Couldn't hold her GTs
tonight. Couldn't hold anything as a matter of fact. Not even this." The
man grasped his crotch and squeezed. "Fuck'er. She's left me horny as
fuck. That's women for you, boy. Get you worked up and leave you horny as
fuck. Now you wouldn't do that, would you, baby? Get a man all worked up,
then leave him horny as fuck."

Neil took a step back. His gut told him to turn and run, but he
couldn't. His mum was in the bedroom, he needed her.

"Know what I'm talking about, don't you, boy. Shit, you're a cute little
fucker. Take after your mum, you do. Cuter in fact. You don't have them
saggy boobs and a hole you could slide..." He waggled the can at
Neil. "...this in, front or back." The fat bastard was laughing now, but it
was a mean, nasty laugh. "C'mere, son, don't be scared. I'll take it easy,
at first. C'mere. I'll be your daddy."

Neil made a break for it, tried to dodge round the couch, get to the
bedroom, but the bastard, in spite of his size, was fast, fuckin' fast. His
hand shot out and grabbed the boy by the wrist, hauled him onto the couch,
a buried him beneath his fat hairy body. Neil wretched at the stench. Felt
himself flipped over onto his front, his jeans and boxers ripped down to
his knees. The boy's face was pressed into the cushions, his jeans and
boxers ripped to his knees, and arm jerked his little buttocks into a flab
of hair and flesh. He felt the man's breath on his neck, heard the
whispered words in his ear, "Gonna make you a man, Neil, or a whore, yeh a
fuckin' whore, just like your mammy. Com'on. boy. I'll be your daddy." The
boy's buttocks were wrenched open. Something hot, hard, and blunted pushed
at his most secret place. Tears ran down his face. "Yeh, a fuckin' whore
just like... Oooof!"

The boy felt the rush of air on his neck. Air followed by stinking
vomit. Voices - but everything was garbled - "Bastard. Fat bastard. Fuckin'
pervert. Mutha fucka'..." He felt the weight dragged from him. Turned and
saw...

Charlie and Robbie!

Kicking the shit of Dave. Almost literally. The man was curled up on the
rug. Both boys kicking him hard. Robby going for the head, Charlie going
for his balls. "Get your fuckin ass out of..." Dave was crawling along the
carpet, kicked all the way, kicked out of the door, kicked onto the stairs,
then heaved down the concrete steps. The door slammed shut.

"Christ, Neil, you stink worse than that bastard."

That was Robby.

"My mum, my mum," sobbed Neil, indicating the bedroom.

"Check on Neil's mum," snapped Charlie. "Let's get you in the shower." He
helped the smaller boy to his feet. Support him to the shower. Stripped
him, steering clear of the yellow, stringy vomit on the boy's neck and
back. Turned on the shower. Stepped back. Pushed Neil, gently, under he
spitting water. "And don't come out till I get you out."

"Fuckin' hell, Charlie," whispered Robby stepping out of the flat's single
bedroom. "That fat bastard's really done a number on Neil's mum. I'm not
going in there again."

Charlie edged past him, stepped into the bedroom, closed the door behind
him. Two minutes, maybe three. He came out holding his cell phone, tapping
in the numbers, tapping his toes on the patched linoleum. "Yeh, that's
right. You got the street. No. 42. She's bad hurt. Still bleeding, I
think. Yeh, from there. Yeh, I'm sure. I fuckin' looked. Just get an
ambulance." He turned to Robby. "Best you get out of here, Rob. I'll take
care of the rest. Neil? Leave him to me. I'll take care of him. Catch you
tomorrow. At the cafe. Around 12. Now fuck off. The police'll be here any
minute. No, don't argue. Just go."

***

Neil kept his eyes tight shut. He didn't want to open them, was scared to
open them. He didn't know where he was, but he knew where he wasn't. Wasn't
in his own bed, wasn't in mum's bed. But he wasn't alone, there was someone
with him. It wasn't mum, it wasn't Dave. The smells told him that. Not that
the smells were stinky or anything like that. They were nice smells, warm
and musky, but they weren't smells he knew. He tried backtracking, working
out where he was and how he'd got there. He tried hard to remember but
something in him didn't want to remember. A shiver ran up his spine. He'd
had shivers before but this was different. The shivers ran half way up,
paused, warmed up, and then ran on. What the hell could be causing that?
Then he felt the warmth located in the small of his back, just above his
bum. What the...? It was a palm and fingers, wrapped warmly round his
waist, but not all the way round. So it wasn't Dan. Dan could his fingers
round Neil's waist until they all but touched. It wasn't his mum. Her
fingers were skinny, the long painted nails would scratch his tummy
gently. It gave him a hard on. She didn't know that, of course, and he'd
have died if she had, but she didn't know and that made it fine.

Breathing on his face. Yes, that's what it was. Not just breath, but
breathing. Someone was breathing on his face, steadily, rhythmically. He
risked a peep, a one-eyed peep.

Fuckin' hell. It was Charlie. He recognised the long, dark lashes
immediately. One eye took in the boy's face. It was Charlie all right. He
was in bed with Charlie, so close he could feel boy's breath on his face,
so close he could feel the boy stretched out against him. How the fuck'd he
get here, like this? He tried to pull back a bit, take in more, but Charlie
grunted and pulled him tighter. Christ, they were naked. Skin to skin. No,
not totally naked. They had boxers on. But he could feel Charlie's hard-on
press against his own crotch. Not a full stiffy but enough to know... to
know what? He wasn't sure. He felt the column of flesh press against him,
felt he warmth that was almost heat, and felt himself stirring. Fuck no!
Don't get a hard-on, not near, not now. What if Charlie woke up, felt
Neil's stiffy pressing against his own, what would he think? "He'd think
I'm a little perv, and he'd kill me. That's what he'd do." He closed his
eyes and tried to remember, if only he could remember. Something was wrong,
really wrong. It wasn't this; being in bed with Charlie, even with hot
hard-ons pressing together, that was wrong. Wrong in a right sort of
way. No, something was wrong in a wrong sort of way, but what the fuck was
it?

"What?"

Charlie was mumbling, mumbling in his sleep, but Neil couldn't make out
what he was saying. He did that himself. His mum told him that. He'd
worried about it until she'd explained lots of people do that. But they
never make sense, it's just a load of mixed mumbles. Like being at the
dentist when he gave you gas. Or like with an anesthetic in
hospital. People worried they might give something away in their sleep, a
secret, or something they were ashamed of, but they needn't worry 'cause
nothing they said made sense. It was just mumbling. Anyway, he'd lie here
and listen to Charlie, take a peek now and then, and wait till it all came
back to him.

What was that? "Robby." Yeh, he'd said "Robby" twice, and "Go on,
faster..." And his dick was getting harder. No doubt about that. Neil felt
Charlie's cock, stiff and hard, and fully erect. That was a Dan word -
'erect'... and 'erection'. Charlie had a full-blown erection, and he was
pressing it against his own, not only pressing but grinding his hips so
that his hard-on fenced with the smaller boy's. There was only a threadbare
duvet covering them, and, though it was not quite light, they didn't really
need it, would be more comfortable with out. Neil reached across Charlie's
back, gripped a corner of the duvet - a fuckin' Spider Man duvet! - peeled
it back and flung it off the bed.

Charlie's hand had shifted from Neil's waist. It had shifted up onto the
boy's naked shoulder. With a grunt he rolled on his back. Neil felt the
slightest of downward pressures. Neil looked down. Christ! Charlie's baggy
boxers tented, his erection so stiff it was pushing up the elasticated top
of his boxers. Another slight pressure on the younger boy's shoulders.

Neil slid down the bed. On his face he felt the heat from the boy's
hard-on. Reached out with slim fingers and felt its hardness, its
roundness, inched down its length. Jesus H. Joseph... Charlie was big. Not
as big as Dan, but fuckin' big, and hard, and... blazin'. Neil crooked his
thumb and slid it beneath the top of the boxers, raised the top, then slid
it down the length of Charlie's erection. It wasn't easy, but Charlie's bum
seemed to lift from the bed until Neil could slide the boxers down his hips
and thighs enough to set his hard-on free. Neil slid his fingers and thumb
round the column until their tips met. He couldn't do that with Dan and he
could barely manage it with Charlie. But, of course, Charlie was only
14. He felt his own hard-on throb and ache.

That downward pressure again.

He slid his mouth over Charlie's knob. It wasn't a button mushroom, more a
slippery torpedo, and the skin move down more easily than Dan's, or his
own. God, it was so comforting. Like a baby with its bottle. He couldn't
think of any other way to describe it, or the feeling of hard-softness
filling his mouth, tickling the back of his throat, stretching his lips. He
couldn't understand it. When he wasn't 'hot', dicks didn't look that
inviting. Hell, that's where piss came from, and boys, at least the boys he
knew, kept them none too clean. Even Dan's cock looked a bit silly when he,
Neil, wasn't in the mood.

That's what his mum said, too, when she'd had a drink or two. Not pissed,
not blotto, just... well, happy and sparkly. "God, men," she'd said, "you
can lead them round by the nose, as long as this is where their nose is."
And she'd reached out and tweaked his penis. "You, too, Neil, you'll be the
same, just like the rest of them." Though he'd blushed and wriggled away,
he hadn't felt there was anything dirty about it; it was just his mum
explaining a fact of life, a fact as women saw it. Then she'd grabbed him,
tickled him, cuddled him, and held him tight. Shit, he loved her so
much. So what if she drank too much? What if she got pissed and chose the
wrong men, again and again. She was his mum and he loved her to
bits. That's where she'd be now, blotto and in bed, with some fuckin'
loser. Hopefully not that Dave bloke - fat, hairy, creep bastard.

"Mmmmmm..."

Neil wasn't sure if that was him or Charlie. He felt the boy's penis in his
mouth, thicker, harder, more demanding. He remembered the direction, "Go
on, faster..." Well, he wasn't Robby but... Felt the boy's cock thicken and
swell. Knew that he'd cum soon, squirtin', spurtin', shootin' his
load. This when Dan eased his head back, spurted up his own chest and
belly, rolled from the bed and hurried to the bathroom. What the fuck for?
Dan'd explained cum, semen, was just protein in a fluid, harmless, so why
all the fuss? And it left Neil feeling incomplete, that their business was
unfinished, that he'd lost a part of Dan he needed. He sucked Charlie
faster and harder, worked on the base of his shaft, squeezed and tugged at
the boy's sac. "I want it all, and I want it now..." That was from a Queen
song, one of his mum's favourites.

Charlie was cumin!

The urethra seemed to swell below little fingers, then - spurt, spurt,
spurt, spurt... Wow, Charlie could cum. And his cum was hitting the back of
Neil's throat. And another squirt! He closed his lips tightly round the
head of Charlie's cock. Didn't want cum everywhere. Tried to breathe
through his nose. His cheeks swelled, he managed to gulp some down. Only a
little escaped from the sides of his mouth. And Charlie's crotch, his hips,
his arse... shook like they were in spasm, his bum rising from the bed,
held rigidly above the bed, until with a long sigh, his breath exhaling
like a punctured balloon, he relaxed back into the mattress.

Neil, too, relaxed. Let Charlie's softening cock slide from his
lips. Pulled the boy's boxers neatly back into place. Climbed his body
until he could rest his head in the crook of Charlie's neck.

"Oh, it's you."

That was Charlie's voice.

Neil looked up, to find hazel eyes gazing sleepily into his own.

"Yeh, it's only me," Neil whispered.

Charlie smiled. Turned towards Neil. Pulled him into his chest. Wrapped an
arm round him.

"Go back to sleep," Charlie whispered.

Neil closed his eyes. Felt Charlie's kisses on his eyelids.

"We'll sort it all out in the morning," he whispered. "It'll be all right
when the morning comes."

"Yeh, when the morning comes," breathed Neil, slipping back into the depths
of dreamless sleep.

***

"You sure she's going to be all right?"

"Yes," said Dan, setting the tray of drinks on the patio table. "Mind you,
it'll take a couple of weeks, maybe three, before she's out of
hospital. But I spoke to the doctor and he says she'll be fine. She needs a
lot of rest, and peace and quiet. That's why you're staying with me."

"Or with me," broke in the other boy, adding, "I couldn't have a beer, too,
could I?"

"No, you could not. Come on, drink up that Coke before the ice melts." Dan
turned to Neil. "I know it looked bad. Your mother got hurt, but it's
nothing time and rest won't mend. And she won't be able to rest if she
knows you're sitting here fretting." He turned to Charlie. "And you stop
crunching the ice with your teeth. It's not good for you."

"Oooo... Oooo," piped Charlie. "Listen to nursey, nursey knows best." Even
Neil had to laugh. "How come you know Neil anyways?" There was a
pause. Charlie glanced at the younger boy. "Shit, I get it. You're the
guy's been giving Neil all that stuff. You're Neil's Sugar Daddy." Neil
winced at the word 'daddy'. "Wish I had a fuckin' Sugar Daddy."

"Shhh, Charlie," admonished Neil. "Dan doesn't like fuckin'."

"Bet the hell, he doesn't," laughed Charlie. "Everybody likes fucking,"
then added "couple of poofters," though there was no malice in his voice.

"You should speak," blurted Neil. "What about this morning?"

"This morning. What about this morning?" asked Charlie, then recollecting,
"Oh that? That was just sex."

"So it's okay if it's just sex?" interrupted Dan.

"You bet your sweet ass it is," the older boy retorted. "Better still,
let's bet Neil's sweet ass." He went on. "Know what the problem is? You
grown-ups take it all too seriously. You think sex is - what's the word? -
sacred, yeh, sacred. Or even worse, you think it's dirty. That's the
message they give us in all. Sex is sacred, your body's a holy temple, but
what they're really saying is sex is dirty, and you shouldn't do it, and
you shouldn't think about it, and you shouldn't play with your
privates. Well, who the fuck do the privates belong to? If my privates
belong to me, they are private, p-r-i-v-a-t-e, so I'll do what I want with
them. And..." Charlie was in full flow now. "if I wanna share my privates
with somebody who wants to share them with me, that's my fuckin' private
business. Pardon, my French." He sipped at his Coke. "Sure I can't have a
beer? Guess not."

"And what do they tell you about homos?" asked Dan.

"Well, homos are cool. Homos have equal rights. Always be nice to a
homo. That's what they say." He put his glass down. "Fuckin' liars. That's
what they are. Two-faced hypocrites. That's what our teachers say, but they
don't really mean it. The lady teachers aren't that bad. They don't seem
much interested in what guys do together. But the men teachers! They won't
even let you ask questions. I mean, the other day Willie..." He turned to
Neil. "You know Willie, don't you? Tall speccy geek in my class." He turned
back to Dan. "...well, Willie put his hand up and said, 'Sir? So it would
be okay if I had wet dreams about Jam...?'" He didn't even get to finish
the fuckin' sentence. The teacher looked right through and said, 'Right, if
there's no more questions let's watch that DVD on AIDS.' Everybody
groaned. We've seen that DVD about twenty times. I know where to put my
dick and not to put my dick. I don't need a fuckin' DVD on it."

"And where do you put your dick?" asked Dan.

Neil saw the glance between boy and man. He didn't understand it. He knew
it meant something but he didn't know what.

"'Scuse, I need a piss," said Charlie, standing up and looking round.

"Up the staircase. Second on the left," said Dan.

When Charlie was halfway up the spiral staircase, Neil turned to Dan.

"There's something I don't understand," he began.

"Go an. Ask anything you want."

"Well, you spent sometime with mum. Then you spoke to the doctor, the
consultant man. Then you spoke to mum again. And you showed her a
card. Then mum said I could stay with you." The boy's voice trembled. "She
didn't exactly say that, her jaw's a bit wired." He fought back the
tears. "But when you asked her again, in front of me, she nodded. I think
she was smiling, it was hard to tell, but..." A tear ran down his
cheek. "...but I always know when my mum's happy. But what I don't
understand... she doesn't know you. You could a' been anybody. So...?" The
words dried up, he shrugged his shoulders.

"Because I showed her this."

Dan reached inside his jacket pocket, pulled out a card. It looked flashy,
laminated, official. He handed it to Neil. The boy read it. His eyes
widened. He read it again. He whistled. He looked up at Dan. "Wow, have you
got a gun?" Dan laughed, retrieved the card, and slid it into his pants
pocket, "No gun, Neil, I'm just happy to see you." Neil frowned. That last
bit didn't make sense but never mind. He gave a huge sigh of relief, stood
up, stepped over, put both arms round the man's neck, and kissed him on the
lips.

"Homos! Fuckin' homos!" It was Charlie, sliding down the narrow banister,
calling and laughing: "Gotcha!"

Neil turned. He was laughing, too. "Like I got you this morning. Only you
was muttering 'Robbie, Robbie', and moanin'."

"You little fucker!" cried Charlie leaping on both Neil and
Dan. "Free-for-all!" They were on the Turkish kilims, all three, rolling
about, laughing, tickling, fighting to get on top. Then both boys
struggling to hold Dan down. Then Neil and Charlie on top. Then Charlie's
lips on Dan's lips, a frozen moment, then lips opening, tongues seeking,
searching...  Neil rolled away. He explored his feelings. He should be
jealous, he knew that, he should be mad with jealousy, but he wasn't. He
was happy, for them, and happy for himself that he had them, and happy that
his mum was going to get better, and happy that that fat bastard... no, he
didn't want to go there. That cunt had... He stopped himself
horrified. He'd thought the word of words, the ugliest word there was, his
mum had taught him that, and he took it back, there and then, he took that
word right back.

"Show me your bedroom."

Where did that whisper come from?

It was from Charlie.

"Only if Neil..."

That was from Dan.

"I'm staying here," said Neil. "You said we could watch 'Toy Story 2' and I
want to watch it now."

"If you're sure...?" queried Dan.

"'Course I'm sure," said Neil. "Anyways I already had Charlie this
morning," he added laughing. "Now fuck off. I wanna watch the DVD. I ain't
no homo." He gave them the finger, scrambled onto the couch and grabbed the
remote. Didn't even watch as his friend... and his friend climbed the
spiral staircase.

The movie didn't do it. Neil tried to get into it, knew was funny, tried to
laugh, but it didn't work. He tried to give it all his attention but he
couldn't keep his mind from what was happening upstairs, or what he
imagined was happening upstairs. And, Christ, he had a stiffy like a milk
bottle. What was wrong with him? Was he a sex maniac or what? He remembered
Charlie's cum squirting onto the back of his throat, the taste came back to
his lips, but that only made things worse. He lasted twenty minutes, maybe
twenty five, be he couldn't last any longer. He got up, kicked off his
trainers, and padded up the spiral staircase in his white socks. What if
Dan had locked the door? He wouldn't do that, would he?

The door was ajar. Neil stepped inside. He thought it would be dark. It
wasn't. The light cotton summer curtains billowed a little in the
breeze. The double bed faced the door. Neil stood on the thick beige
carpet. It took him a few moments to work out the scene. He gulped, held
his breath. Dan lay stretched full length in the centre of the double bed,
his tanned skin bright against the sea-blue duvet. Legs long, strong and a
bit hairy. He was naked. That was no surprise but Neil had to blow out
breath and suck more in. He couldn't see the top part of Dan's body because
Charlie was riding him. "Like a jockey," thought Neil.

Charlie sat astraddle Dan's thighs, and he was riding them.

Only when Charlie rose high for the fourth time did Neil take in what was
happening. The boy was impaled - not a word Neil really knew but that's
what it was - impaled on a thick column of flesh that disappeared deep up
inside him. Neil watched as the boy rose and fell, rising to the head of
the man's cock, then falling to crush his thick pubic hair. Neil couldn't
see Charlie's face; the boy was hunched over the man's chest, his hands
apparently on each side of Dan's head as he did push-ups. The younger boy
giggled a little: "Yeh, looks like Charlie's doing push-ups." He couldn't
just stand there. That was like invading their privacy. He dragged his
T-shirt over his head, not easy as it clung sweatily to him. Undid his
snake belt, let his denims slip to his ankles, stepped out of
them. Hesitated, then pushed down his boxers and kicked them away. Bent
over to pull off his socks, all the time watching what was happening on
Dan's double bed.

Neil looked at his body. Shit, why did he have to look so young? There were
some hairs, little pubic hairs, starting to come in, but they were so blond
against his skin they might as well not've been there. At least he didn't
have knobbly knees. Not like Robbie. And his bum was high and round, like a
split peach, said Dan. And his cock? Well, that wasn't so bad. It was
nothing like Charlie's, and definitely not like Dan's. but he thought it
was respectable for a twelve year old. He'd measured it in secret - a good
four inches... not that wasn't true, but it was nearly four inches. And,
God, it was throbbing now. He looked down, tempted to give it a squeeze,
but scared he'd squirt over Dan's carpet, and it was such an expensive
carpet. He stepped forward, not quite sure what he was going to do,
slightly scared he'd be told to hop it.

He needn't have worried. Dan opened his eyes. His smile said "C'mere."

The boy sat on the edge of the bed. Dan pulled him down. Kissed him,
open-mouthed, his tongue already invading, probing, searching. Then it was
Charlie. Charlie! Pulling Neil's face towards him, kissing him, also
open-mouthed. He felt Charlie's tongue had invaded his head. Felt Dan's
tongue licking the sweat from his neck, his shoulders, his chest, his
nipples. Tiny nipples, but suddenly as hard as dried raisins, Dan nibbling
at them, as his fingers gently eased Neil's foreskin back, back and
forwards, till the slippery stuff made it easy to slide back all the
way. And now both of them, Dan and Charlie, kissing him, hot sweet kisses,
over his eyes, his mouth, his lips, his cheeks, the smaller boy's blond
hair falling over their searching tongues. And the sounds! Not moaning and
groaning, but sighs and whispers, and tiny wet smacks, and still Charlie's
head rising and falling in time with his body, in time with...

Neil eased away, eased down the bed, curious, fascinated, wanting to see,
smell, touch, witness... everything, his face only inches from Charlie's
muscly buttocks that rose and fell until he was pinned on Dan's big,
hard... God, he was big! and thick! Neil had seen it before, but not like
this, when it looked so hard, so swollen, so... He reached forward and
tried to wrap his fingers and thumb round the base as Charlie rose, but he
couldn't make them touch. And Charlie's hole! He must be in pain. His hole
was stretched round Dan's column of flesh, the skin as tight as a drum, so
tight there were no wrinkles. Like Dan's silk scarf when he stretched
it. Charlie's buttocks were pale white but there was a pinky-brown ring
where Dan's cock penetrated. How many inches? Five, six, seven... and that
must be the head, where the skin sort of bunched up round the hole. No
wonder Dan wouldn't... go on, say it... fuck him, even when he hinted he
wouldn't mind if that's what Dan wanted to do. Neil'd had big shits before,
specially after he'd been constipated, but he'd never eased out anything
like that before. He ran his fingertips in the cleft of Charlie's buttocks,
right down to the hole itself - the skin was hot, actually hot to the
touch. No wonder Charlie was sweating, the sweat breaking out all over his
hair and neck and back. Maybe he should fetch a towel and wipe his friend's
back. No, he'd use his hands. He climbed up on the bed, knelt behind
Charlie, ran his little palms over the boy's back, then let them run round
to the boy's front. More sweat there. And swollen nipples! He knew Charlie
had big nipples but he'd never guessed they could swell like that. He heard
the boy groan, grabbed his nipples and gave them little tugs and
squeezes. He knew they were - what's the word Dan had told him? - ergoneous
zones - something like that. He ran his hands down the boy's stomach, then
pulled them away as they touched something... that must be Charlie's cock,
and it was big and hard and swollen, too. He wondered if... He got his
fingers and thumb round the boy's erection began to jerk it gently.

"Fuckin' harder, fuckin' harder..."

Wasn't sure if that was Charlie or Dan, voice not too deep, must be Dan,
began jerking the boy faster, harder, clung on to his back as he rode the
big hard cock to a finish. "Cumin', yeh, fuckin' cumin'..." That was
Charlie. "Yes, yes, now..." That as Dan.

Neil hung on, literally hung on, as the bodies bucked and writhed. He felt
Charlie's cum squirt from the shaft, spurt after spurt, the last spurts
landing on his jerking hand. And felt - or imagined he felt - Dan's cock
rub against his balls as it withdrew from Charlie's arse, plunged to the
hilt, withdraw and plunged again. Felt the general collapse beneath and
against him. Heard mumbled, muttered curses that spoke only of
pleasure. Pressed his face against Charlie's sweaty back and drank the boy
in. Felt oh so protective towards the boy who had protected and rescued
him. Closed his eyes...

and told to keep his eyes closed. Felt himself lifted and laid on the silky
sea-blue duvet. "Sssshhh... keep your eyes closed."

Neil felt tongues run all over his body. One started at his toes, worked it
way up the inside of his left leg, licked across the space between, licked
down his left leg, sucked on his little toes. That was Dan. No, that was
Charlie. Felt another tongue licked under his neck, across the top of his
chest, into each hairless armpit. That was Charlie. No, that was
Dan. Really had no idea which tongue was which. It didn't matter. Just let
them go on and on. Felt a tongue lick the underside of his balls while the
other sucked at his belly button. Knew where the tongues were going. Hurry
up, for fuck's sake, hurry up. No. no, take your time. Take forever. But
his cock throbbed, ached, stretched tightly against its own length. A mouth
closed over his cock and balls, gently sucking at everything. The boy felt
his bum raised from the bed, two hands slipped beneath to keep him raised,
felt the hot, wet tongue wiggle into the... Not there, not there, that's
dirty. But it wasn't. It was new, so new, but it wasn't dirty. And when he
felt the tip of the tongue tickle his little hole, he pressed forward to
get more of the feeling. Lips were sucking the length of his hard-on,
fingers gently squeezing at his sac. His head began to roll from side to
side. Too much sensation, too many feelings, too much, too much...more
more.

The tongue penetrated him now, just the tip, but it was inside. The lips
speeded the length of his throbbing erection. He wanted to hold onto those
feelings forever, but he couldn't, couldn't hold on, and with a squeal he
just let it go!

He felt himself emptying. That's what it was like. Being emptied from the
inside. Turned inside out. Cumming had never been like this. He legs
thrashed on the bed as a hand pressed down on his stomach, a tongue - was
it a finger? - fucked him, touched something deep inside. He was flying
apart, he was fragments, a million splinters... and he was hanging onto
Dan, pressing himself deep against Dan's chest. And he felt Charlie's body,
Charlie chest, and belly, and crotch pressed tightly against his back. He
was being spooned, spooned like a baby, back into that dark and dreamless
place, where everything was all right and everything would be well.

The breeze billowed the light cotton curtains over the bed.

Over the man and boys who slept naked and entwined on the bed.

The sea-blue duvet lay on the floor.

It wasn't needed.

Not needed at all.

***

The sun-roof was open, and the sea breeze cooled the man and boy who sat
inside.

"Global warming can't be all bad if we keep on getting summers like this,"
laughed the boy. "I'm taking this blazer off," he said. Blazer off and
neatly folded on a rear set, he fingered the man's light-coloured
jacket. "Mmmm... linen," he murmured. "You always have had a thing about
linen. Suits you."

"Like that blazer suits you," the man replied. "You look good in
burgundy. I can always spot you in that blazer; at least in this part of
town. And I ask myself 'What's a grammar school boy doing in this part of
town?' But then I know the answer."

"Hey, don't knock this part of town, even if it is the 'wrong side of the
tracks'." Neil's wry expression showed his affection for the 'wrong side of
the tracks'. "It used to be home for me, and for mum. So don't knock it."
The affection remained in his voice, so much deeper now, but still the
voice of a boy, a young man.

"Don't get wrong. I'm not knocking it," soothed Dan unnecessarily. "If it
wasn't here, I wouldn't have found you. It was round about here, wasn't
it?"

"Not quite," laughed the boy. "It was down by the Western Docks. This was
where you brought me, West Beach, after you... after you picked me up."

"Hey, you wanted to be picked up."

"Did not."

"Did, too."

"Yeh, but not for what you wanted. I needed beer, lager, for Charlie, for
Robbie, for the guys. God, Dan, I was nearly shitting myself."

"So was I?"

"Were you?"

"You bet." came the reply. "I'd never done anything like that before. Been
tempted but never done it. And you, you were so... young. It was like I was
watching myself going through with it, like an out-of-body experience."

"More like an out-of-your-mind experience," laughed Neil.

"I took my shirt off," said Dan.

"So did I. It was boiling hot. Then you said 'Let's drive up to the
Slopes.' And I thought, "Oh, no, here we go."

"And off we went."

Man and boy laughed together.

Neil grew serious. "But why me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I don't mean the sex stuff. I can understand that. It's not me, but I
can understand it. No, I mean, why did you stand by me, stand by my mum,
you know, when all the trouble happened? Hairy Dave and all that. Why
didn't you just walk away? God, you took terrible risks. I mean, you're a
cop, a detective, CID, for God's sake."

"Youth Division then," interjected Dan.

"Youth Division, Smooch Division," muttered Neil. "I know you used your
influence. How the fuck would me and mum've got rehoused in the West End?
And you got her that job in the shoe shop. She's the manageress now, you
know. Even the Social Worker said 'You must have friends in high
places. And grammar school. How did you talk mum into entering me for
grammar school."

"She didn't need much talking into," smiled Dan. "She's a smart lady, and
she loves you to bits."

"Then you disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

"Well, not disappeared. But the sex stuff stopped. Even when I showed you I
wanted it... Shit, I hated you for that. Then I didn't. The pressure was
gone. You were a friend of the family. Some family, I know, just me and
mum. But you know what I mean. And I know you had other boys. Charlie told
me. But he was nice about it. Are you and Charlie still...?"

"No." Dan smiled again. "Charlie and Robby. Don't you know? They're
practically engaged." He laughed and added, "They both want to be police
cadets. And, know something, they'll make it, too. Charlie told me he can't
go round fucking a superior officer, not even if it's me, especially if
it's me."

"And what about you? Don't say if you don't want to. Anyone special in your
life."

Neil beamed.

"His name's Jamie. He's in my tutor group, and some of my classes. He's
smart, maybe smarter than me..." Neil grinned. "...but he can't play chess
for shit. Never had the right teacher."

"Hey. c'mere." The man reached for the boy, took him in his arms. For long
moments they held each other, then parted.

Neil sighed. "I guess we couldn't keep that summer forever."

"Nope, only memories last forever," said Dan, then added, "but we've got
that memory, and that summer, forever."

"Let's go home," said Neil. "I wanna get changed into civies. But can we
come back here later, around half past nine?"

"Sure. What for?"

"I wanna watch the sun go down, with you. I bet we see the green ray, 'le
rayon vert', together."

"The green ray? What's that?" asked Dan.

"I'll tell you on the way home," replied Neil.

"And one more thing."

"Yep?"

"Can I have a can of lager at last?"

"Nope... but you can share mine."

THE END (of another beginning)