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I am introducing a new prolific author's roster. The list of stories by Larkin has become so untidy, full of re-writes, uncompleted and poorly written stories. If desired you can still go back and sort through but the mess but I will list the new stories and fresh re-writes under the pen name, A. Larkin. Thank you for supporting Nifty and supporting me.

The Interloper by A.Larkin 2017 all rights reserved.

Please send comments to jet2larkin (at) geemale dot kom (reinterpret.)

This story should be regarded as fiction. All the usual disclaimers apply. This story is complete and will be posted in two parts.

Ok all you filthy wankers, there are plenty of filthy bits in this “tail” and it is easy enough to skim but then you'd be missing a good story.

The Interloper

by A.Larkin

Part 2

The Relationship:

It was mid-summer when I began to write down and record my life shared with Anthony. It would be a diary or perhaps an alibi used in defense of the indefensible. My life before had been colorless and predictable and now it was vibrant and constantly uncertain. I gave him his own key that he strung on a raw hide that he wore around his neck. Sharing my flat with him and all the intimacies that go with it made me feel younger and I expect that Anthony was feeling more self confident and mature for his years. There was a certain equality between us causing me to think of him as a close and intimate friend. Although I rationalized our sexual relationship as just being mutual masturbation, the sort of thing that might arise between any two males, but of course, it was much more than that. My feelings for him had become so intense that I found myself in an orbit around his needs and desires. Even in the midst of all this, I never considered myself as a homosexual and yet he occupies my bed next to me and I wake briefly in the night to hug and hold him.

In the beginning Anthony went through a “Buy me“ stage. I didn't mind if fact I took great pleasure in humoring his every reasonable request. A Nintendo suddenly appeared atop the TV and a skate board splashed with color has become a prized possession. Since school would be starting in a month, he would need all new clothes and the cheaper they were the better he looked in them. His thread bare pants were rising high on his ankles and fit tightly around his behind. As much as I enjoyed this view, he had to have new ones that allowed for the impending onset of a growth spurt.  Almost at anytime we would engage in roughhouse play where I would try to pull the resistant boy's pants down revealing his naked behind or he would tug and pull my pants open to get at my rising cock. Anthony's sexual needs were about three times a day. In the morning where he might suck on my cock after which I would soundly fuck him. Maybe again in the afternoon where the encounter would be spirited and mischievous. In an act of irreverent rudeness the boy might squat over me so that I could penetrate up his hole with my tongue. Again in the late evening or even the wee hours we might have the final encounter that was profoundly affectionate. My ability to ejaculate was definitely once a day and frequently twice but Anthony was insatiable and in the process, producing barely a drop or a small dribble, leaving him ready for the next.

I sat comfortably close to him while he played his video game. “Anthony, I want you to write your mother.”

He continued to play, giving me cold silence in return.

Come on, imagine it was you that was locked up? Wouldn't you be happy to get a letter?”

I don't want to!”

Well I wish you'd think about it. With all her problems, I don't want her worrying about you.”

He glared at me and I quickly changed the subject. He brightened up when I suggested that we get out and go exploring. On our walks, the anonymity of city streets allowed us to appear as, father and son, or perhaps older and younger brother, uncle and nephew. Our association was completely plausible and not subject to interrogation. We decided to take the IRT down to the Battery and take a ride on the Staten Island Ferry because it was free to go back and forth. Between the morning or evening rush it wasn't that crowded.

Why don't you want to write your mother?”

Because I don't want to, Ok!”

Are you excited about getting back to school?

Repressing a giggle he said, “No!”

What grade are you in?”

His answer was characteristic. “I don't know?”

Come on Anthony, what grade are you in?”

I don't remember.”

Anthony when you get back to school I will help you with your homework.”

I don't have any homework.”

Sitting on the benches opposite the rail, we could see the water and other ships passing by. I started tickling him until he erupted in laughter.

You must have homework, why else would you go to school?”

He was squirming trying to get away from me.

What grade are you in?”

In order to get me to stop he blurted out, “8th grade!”

We took 2 round trips and getting off on the far side wandered the narrow streets of Tompkinsville where houses were free standing.

As if in a foreign land Anthony said, "This is a lot different from where we live.”

On the way back we soaked in the cool breeze and bought hot dogs and juice. I watched while Anthony pushed the entire hot dog and bun into his mouth devouring it in 2 bites.

He looked to me and said, “Can I have another?”

 

The Incident:

We took the IRT back uptown. Anthony sat close to me and it made me feel very protective and parental. Never far from my thoughts I noticed that something was holding his gaze. I looked towards the subway seats that were facing us. There was a man sitting silently. He was roughly my age or perhaps younger and even though we were on a train and under the ground, he was wearing dark aviator sunglasses. He had on a pair of light color coveralls that were spattered with paint. Anthony's gaze was fixed. The man slid down slightly in his seat and spread his legs wider as if to be more comfortable. It was then that I noticed it. That he had a very large erection that lay across his thigh. He pet and tugged at it through his coveralls as if it was an unconscious act. Anthony noticed me and began to look elsewhere only to return his gaze to the stranger's crotch. As we rose up to meet our stop, the man whose eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses had what looked like a self satisfied smirk on his face. It was not something I could confront Anthony with because he would just deny it.

He might say, “Paul, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Did the stranger display himself because he sensed something about Anthony or was it directed at me to show that he had the potential to lure him away, to do filthy things to him and then look at me with the same contemptible smirk. I had a fearful twinge when I imagined this rude stranger having his way with my boy. I was experiencing jealousy. This was a trait I usually attributed to women.

I was happy when another man took a troublesome woman off my hands and I never was jealous. This was different. I decided that I would keep it inside and never let myself express it. I thought, what better way to lose Anthony by demonstrating to him all my stupid insecurities. When we got home, he could hardly wait to have sex.

 

Education:

In early September Anthony started school. PS133 was a healthy 12 block walk and I would have time to myself where I could gather my thoughts and energies. It was also time for me to seek out at least some freelance work. This would get me out of the house. I found work for 2 weeks here and then for a few weeks there. I liked freelance work because by the time I wanted to kill everyone in the office, I would move on to another job.

He'd arrive home around three thirty. “
“You want something to eat?”

He would sit before me and gobble.

Do you have any homework?”

Acting unconcerned he said, “Not really.”

Oh come on, you have to have some?”

He handed me his math book. “I have to know something about circles and balls and how to measure them.”

He sat next to me and I opened his book. “Well the only thing you have to memorize are these simple formulas, like piR for circumference of a circle or piR2 for the area of a circle.”

Anthony had one hand on my legs and was moving slowly up onto my lap. I could see in his eyes that he hadn't the slightest interest in his elementary geometry. He pulled himself up to kiss and soon my cock trapped in my pants, began to rise. Anthony sat on the hard lump in my pants and bumped softly up and down. It was usually kissing that would set everything off. While we kissed he busied himself unthreading my belt and opening my pants. We pause quickly to kick off shoes, drop pants and pull of shirts leaving us naked and touching. His penis was stiff and up at an angle of almost 12 o'clock, with two balls clutched at its base. The merger, commonly called 69 is where he would be over me, sucking my cock and I would be licking his bottom. I would spread him wide and spit and push my tongue up as far as I could. This would ready Anthony for a fuck. Most often the ritual was Anthony laying on his belly with me over him carefully pushing it in. At first he would lay perfectly flat but as he opened up and became more receptive, he would be up on his knees, legs parted, bottom arched up where I would be able to go for depth.

I know he loved it because he would cling to me, swoon and then encourage me in a voice that was strangely mournful. "Fuck me, Fuck me!"

Turning over and pulling his legs back as far as they would go, I would penetrate him. We would kiss while I fucked him for depth. I would build up to a chaotic rhythm until I felt the cum welling up inside of me.

I thought, perhaps even out loud, “Is there anything more wonderful in this world?”

Anthony was jerking off, we were kissing and my cum flowed out of me in endless streams filling the dark recesses of his bottom.

 

The Friends:

It wasn't me but Anthony's 9 to 3 attendance at school that created structure to our lives. If we were up early we might fuck around but recently he would be in a deep sleep unable to wake. This was a sure sign of his approaching puberty. His body was growing. In spite of this, I could have my way with him even in this semi-conscious state. When I was done he would sink back into an even deeper sleep.

My freelance work could be anywhere in the city and the schedule was fluid. However most of the time I arrived home at 5 or 6 pm. They were both sitting on the futon together. The boy was a brown eyed, blond similar in size to Anthony. It appeared that they had been playing video games but the two controllers lay on the floor in front of them making it obvious that they had been caught in something. The friend seemed slightly nervous and uncertain. This did not discourage Anthony. Smiling at me as if he had brought home a prize, he slipped his hand down the front of the boy's pants taking hold of his penis. The boy squirmed and then jumped to his feet.

Anthony calmly got up and said, “This is Carter, we're in the same class.” Then looking at the boy he said, “This is the Paul I told you about.”

That gave me cause to worry. What did he tell this boy about me? Did he reveal the true nature of our relationship? I distracted myself by making both of them micro-wave pizza.

It's Friday, can Carter stay over tonight?”

Considering that I walked in on something, I was apprehensive.

Come on, me and Carter can sleep on the futon in front of the TV. Paul, pleeese...”

I looked at Anthony and saw the beginning signs of trouble. He had recently introduced tantrums into our relationship. They were horrible and loud enough to draw the neighbors. It was the last thing I wanted.

He said it again, “Pleeese..”

I gave in.

Carter, had a sweet and adorable disposition. Next to him, Anthony appear jaded and cunning, waiting for me to go to bed. I knew what was in store for Carter during the night. We watched a movie while the two boys gorged themselves on chocolate. It was not very late when I went to bed. Once my light was out, I could stand on a chair and look through the transom above my bedroom door, unobserved. Anthony didn't waste any time digging into his friend's underpants. Of course, he was much more experienced but he had found a receptive partner. Anthony, like a doctor whose license had been revoked, removed all of the boy's clothes and subjected him to a thorough examination, inspecting foreskin and probing the boy's hole with his fingers. The boy was ticklish and giddy and happily complied willingly to Anthony's lead and then without prompting, reciprocated. The primary task before them was masturbation which each accomplished twice before I had to sleep.

Naked, amongst a chaotic twist of blankets the two boys slept. I was sure that they had been up all night. I made my coffee and Anthony, naked and erect got up to join me. The other boy called out to Anthony asking him to retrieve his underpants that had somehow ended up on the other side of the room. Carter pulled them on, quickly dressed and then joined us in a bowl of frosted flakes. He was late and explained to us that he was already in deep trouble.  Anthony pulled me close, demonstrating the affection he had for me. Reaching down he traced out the shape of my soft cock for Carter to see. It began to rise when he softly stroked me through my sweat pants. When it began to elevate, Anthony lifted out and into full view and displayed it to a wide eyed Carter whose mouth dropped open in amazement. Perhaps it was the shock but Carter gathered up his things and left for home.

After he left, I said, “You don't think that he would say anything, do you.”

Anthony was relaxed and confident. “No, because I'd tell on him.“

That seem to make sense to me.

Anthony I have a confession to make.”

He gave me a cautious side glance. “Yeah, what?”

I was watching both of you through the transom.”

He didn't appear to be disturbed at my intrusion. “Yes but it was only for a moment.”

Yeah so?”

Did you consider bringing Carter to my bed?”

No, why would I do that?”

I don't know, I just imagined what it would be like.”

In a moment of seriousness he said, “I didn't want you to like him and then get rid of me.”

Anthony, I would never do that and you know it.“

He put his arms around my neck and whispered into my ear. “Do it to me.”

Carter came over a few more times until Anthony began to lose interest. I am almost positive that he had given Carter such a thorough going over that he would go off and spread the precocious contagion to other boys. The idea of that, pleased me.

 

Lance.

Lance was taller than Anthony but not as tall as me. He was a 14 year old string bean that when he laughed, his Adam's apple would rise up and down. Poor Lance was also experiencing full-on puberty that manifested itself in an outbreak of facial pimples. If I had to describe Lance using one word it would be goofy but I don't want to be unkind.  Apparently, Anthony had a crush on him and Lance seemed to be enjoying the attention. He had brought him over once and introduced me. I had to go out so god only knows what happened. A return visit was a good omen.

The two boys approached the futon where I was sitting. Anthony spoke sharply to me, “Move over!”

The three of us sat together with his teen age prey between us. Anthony snuggled close to the adolescent and began rubbing his hand up and down on the front of Lances pants. The teen moved around as if to get comfortable. Anthony was feeling the shape of the boy's growing cock. Lance looked nervously up at me and when he saw that I did not disapprove he relaxed. By now his cock was stiff in his pants. Anthony sat up and struggled to pull down the teen's zipper and then rooted around in his pants trying to tug out his cock. I watched in fascination. This boy's cock was larger than mine. I was amazed and saw Anthony smiling and looking to me for approval. He pulled down the boy's long foreskin. Its scent was evident and seemed to be provoking Anthony’s arousal. He got down and pulled off Lance's shoes and socks and struggled with his pants. Lance lifted his ass up so that they could be pulled all the way off and tossed away. It wasn't that the boy's cock and balls were actually larger than mine but on him it looked that way. Sitting up next to him, Anthony began jerking him off provoking Lance to moan and groan, undulating his body under Anthony's hand. The teen hastily pulled his shirt up, trapping it under his chin and readied himself to cum on his rigid belly. Lance's body strained and then,..he squirted 6 or 7 times, pouring out a volume of milky, rich liquid. I am positive that he had given Lance a blow-job with all the trimmings when I wasn't there but I can't be sure. He came over a few more times until one day Anthony announced that Lance had gotten a girlfriend. From that point on any mention of Lance seemed to irritate him,

 

Boys to Men:

Ok, all you filthy wankers, I will spare you the grim details of a relationship in decline. You could read on but if not, I will say that the story ends happily.

There were others. Sammy, Danny, Tommy and Trent,..Josh, Billy, Jacob and Brent.  Each one would last a short while and then he would move on. Occasionally, I'd participate but that was up to Anthony. It was understood that if I didn't join them I could spy through the transom above my bedroom door. In the beginning it was just his classmates but Anthony was cultivating an interest in the older high school boys and increasingly these boys were young men. There was another significant change. Anthony wasn't bringing boys home to educate and instruct or just to get into their underpants. The older they got, the more apparent it was that they were pursuing Anthony for all the reasons I feared and I was feeling threatened. They were hot to fuck my boy. Until this new development, I didn't mind,..but secretly I did. He picked up new partners so easily that I had a growing fear that I would lose him. Initially, I thought, where did I get off telling Anthony who he could have sex with? As long as we slept together and once during the day I would be able to have my way with him. Shouldn't I be satisfied?

Apparently I had totally forgotten that I was his temporary guardian and that he had become a tyrannical 13 year old. I spent every hour pleasing and humoring him. I had become his slave.  One day he brought home a college age man. We both stood there, with Anthony standing between us. We regarded each other as adversaries.

I looked at the man who was sporting a trimmed mustache and said, “This is not a good time” and ushered him out the door.

Anthony screamed at me, “Fuck you!” and out the door and after the man he went.

He returned home late that evening, behaving as if nothing had happened. The knowledge of what happened lay in my stomach like a stone. Perhaps he realized that he had gone a little too far causing us to make-up. But it was just a placation. Not long after there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a fit and formidable man with silver gray hair. "Is Anthony here?"

I told him no and shut the door. I had become the problem. He began coming home later or not coming home at all. Fool that I am, I was in perpetual torment.

 

The Decline:

After being off and soundly being fucked or whatever else, Anthony would return home. He felt an obligation to jerk me off, to reward me with quick one sided sex just to waylay my anguish.  In March, I got a note from his mother. Her conviction had been set aside and she was being released at the end of the week and that she and Anthony were going to South Florida. In a way, Anthony had become like his mother, cruel and unfeeling and in spite of all this, I dreaded his going. When I told him that he would be going to Florida with his mother, he brightened up at the promise of new horizons. He didn't seem to notice my reluctance to see him go. The night before his mother was to arrive to take him by bus to Florida, we made up. We cuddled most of the night concluding with just one more superb fuck.

Valerie arrived the next morning. “Is he ready yet?”

I said, “Yeah”

Other than a discrete hand to hand or brushing up against each other, Anthony and I did not embrace or express physical affection. I slipped a hundred dollar bill in his hand and helped him collect his things.

Valerie stood there tapping her foot. “Paul, you think you can loan me a couple hundred dollars?”

I did and the mother and son went rattling and banging down the hall towards the front door. Once back in my apartment with the door safely locked, I sat down and began to cry.

 

The New Boy:

Over the entirety of the next year, I was beset with chronic depression and a relentless melancholia. I became colorless, solitary and empty. Although I had received a call from Francine I didn't take the opportunity to re-kindle the relationship. I went to a few gay bars but discovered that I had no interest in men, especially liberated gay men. One youthful boy, older than his looks, gave a flagrant show of feminine qualities that had alienated me from women in the first place. I no longer had any idea of who I was, nor did I care. I began to consider dangerous, escapist drugs, the idea of which became more and more appealing but alcohol was more convenient. It got to be a regular thing and if I was about to run out, I would have to venture out into the world to get more. It was already dark and there was a driving rain.

From a dark alcove next to a door way, I heard a voice. “Do you have a dollar?”

The voice was from a boy whose family had just been evicted and he was now on his own. I gave him the dollar and brought him home with me. He was a sensitive, unappreciated boy who was desperate for a home. That was 2 years ago and today I went with him to NYU where he is registering for his first year in college. The details of this story will be saved for another time.

 

Epilogue:

Several years later I received a letter from Anthony. Enclosed was a picture of himself, his chubby wife and a small disoriented four or five year old clinging to his father's leg. The letter was poorly written and he didn't mention his wife or son. He was also a bit over weight and his hair was receding. He mentioned that if I ever get to South Florida, I should pay him a visit. I could sleep on the couch. I wrote him back but never received an answer. Perhaps he was destined to work at the Olive Garden, destined to be a father and husband. Destined to hang with his buddies at the bar. When I met him, he was in transition. If by magic we were suddenly in a room together, we would have absolutely nothing in common.

I had no primer to prepare me for this, it just happened. Maybe this is how it is suppose to be. It is a short term relationship by design. My relationship with him was transitory for both of us to know each other intimately and intensely for just a short period of time, then to move on. It was not soulmates finding each other but of young and old crossing paths. In spite of public condemnation, I came away feeling that these sort of relationships can be of value and can offer something good to both the boy and the man. What is important to understand is that they are temporary and that in this form, they do not last forever.

The luminescent boy from apartment 4b is gone.

 

Please send comments to jet2larkin (at) geemale dot kom (reinterpret.)

They will be gratefully appreciated.