WARNING: This story is about an affair between a boy and a man. Do not read the contents if it will offend you. If accessing this story causes you to break local laws (village, town, city, county, province, state, or country, etc.), please leave now.

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The well-dressed boy.

I dedicate this 10 part story to Just a few: a couple of crazy Yanks and an East End Boy who doesn't like jellied eels or kippers!

By John T. S. Teller.

Part 1.

I was taking a chance by driving so fast down the narrow country lanes, but I was late. Traffic on the motorway had been awful. There'd been a four-car crash and we were diverted from three-lane to single-lane. It took me two hours to eventually clear the hold-up, and then I had another forty miles to drive to the small village near Salisbury in Wiltshire where the wedding was taking place. But this was one wedding I didn't intend to miss. In fact, nothing else had been in my mind since I left Singapore two days ago, and I was excited when I drove my white Rolls Royce Phantom Coupé out of the drive of my home in Canterbury to drive to the Georgian mansion known as Manor Hotel, where I was to meet him before going onto the church. Harry was getting married, and I, Francis Lee (usually referred to as Frank), was to be his Best Man.

**********

My precious Harry. I first fell in love with him eleven years ago when he was twelve and I was thirty two, and we started our affair just after he'd turned thirteen. What a boy! I've known some sexy boys in my pederast life, but Harry topped them all by a country mile. Once he'd let me into his pants, he couldn't get enough of his dad's boss. I was just becoming established in a retail car dealership when his dad came to work for me as a salesman. Brendan was the pushy type, and he wanted promotion. He wanted it so much that when he began to bring little Harry to work on Sunday mornings, and when it must have been obvious to him that I liked his boy, he used Harry as a sort of bribe. I didn't give a fuck about him doing that, and when I made him head salesman, he just went with the flow to keep his job and earn even more money. And position.

Harry was a precocious boy; a beautiful boy with blond hair and gorgeous blue eyes and sultry, sexy lips. The fact that he was bi-sexual and was not adverse to the odd girly date helped things along. I courted him for a couple of months. He knew what I wanted. At first I thought he was like his dad... using me to get all the treats I gave him. But when I took him home one Sunday morning when he said he was bored of being at the garage, I soon found out that that wasn't the case.

It was a winter's day; freezing cold, and as soon as we got in the house and I'd stoked up the large, open, wood-burning fireplace, he shed his outer clothes and lay sprawled on the hearthrug, warming himself from the heat of the blazing logs. I asked him if he wanted the TV on, but he just shook his head and grinned at me, lay back with his hands behind his head, and relaxed completely. I took a couple of cushions from the sofa, threw one to him - which he placed behind his head before adopting his previous position - and then I placed the other cushion beside his and lay on the rug with him. He gave me that famous grin of his, pulled his tee-shirt up his body, and pretended to enjoy the warmth of the fire on his beautiful naked midriff. I noticed that his blue jeans were a little low on him, and the top of his white underpants was clearly visible. He looked away from me at the fire, and began to caress himself. That's when I turned on my side, propped myself on one elbow, and looked down at him. Still he didn't look at me, but now the fingers of his right hand were not only caressing his tummy, they were also dipping under the hem of the underpants as well. My dick was as hard as a nail, and judging from the bulge I could see in his jeans, so was Harry's.

There are not many more sexier sights than a boy, legs spreadeagled, feeling at himself; inviting; knowing full well that the man beside him desired him, and when I placed my hand over his and helped him caress his body, he didn't object at all. In fact, that's what he wanted, and it wasn't long before he'd reversed our hand positions so he was using my hand to stroke his delicate, soft skin. But not once did he look at me. It was his way of breaking the sexual ice between us.

The hem of his jeans were tight around his waist, and I was having difficulty getting my large fingers under the waistband. Harry understood, and still not looking at me, he undid the top button, slid down the zip, and we began all over again. After he'd guided my fingers to play with and pinch his erect nipples, he pushed my hand down, and as soon as my fingers went beneath the hem of his underpants, he grabbed my wrist and shoved my hand down until I was able to grasp the hot, throbbing dick of the boy I'd wanted since I first set eyes on him.

The rest came natural. Once I'd got hold of his dick and was playing with it, off came all his clothes (and mine) and we really went to town. That's when I discovered that the affection was mutual. Harry was all over me as much as I was him, and the first time he climaxed was when we were tongue-kissing. Five minutes later, he was on his side, spooning into me whilst rubbing my knob around his sphincter, and I blew my load right into that delicious arse crack until my man-cream was splattered everywhere down there. We spent two hours mutually wanking and sucking and kissing, and then it was time to go. The garage shut at four, and it was three-thirty when we got back. Harry just sprang out of the car, and laughing, told his dad that we'd had a great time watching TV and playing pool. His dad just smiled and said he could now get rid of him every Sunday.

Four years later I made his dad General Manager of my seven Southern outlets. A year later, Harry found himself a girlfriend. I let him go. We'd had a great five years of mutual sex, and there wasn't a single homosexual sex act that Harry and I had not tried. Although we stopped having sex, it wasn't the end of us. Our friendship was much deeper than that, and the love we shared was still very much a part of what we were. We kept in touch, meeting on a regular basis, and I delighted in how my young man was progressing with his life. I offered him a job in the company, but he refused. He was a free spirit when I met him, and nothing ever changed. He wouldn't even go to university. Instead, he decided he wanted to see the world. Again I offered him funds, but again he refused my help, and just went off with one of his like-minded pals. Three years he was away, making sure he visited the five continents; working his way around the world. When he returned, he became an antique dealer. This time, at my insistence, and because he knew the offer was because I really loved him, I told him I would pay the rent on a small shop in Salisbury that he could use as his base, and because he loved me still, he accepted. There was no mention of money. It wasn't necessary.

And then he met Rosemarie, and again he fell in love. I was happy for him. She was as crazy as he was, and they made a wonderful couple. When they decided to get married (against all my expectations, because formality wasn't something I associated with my Harry), he asked me to be his Best Man. I remember what he said when I asked if he wanted a younger friend to do it. `Are you joking? There's only one man in my life, and Frank Lee, you're it!'  I was overjoyed, and I told him I was.

***********

Manor Hotel. The sat-nav hadn't let me down, and at just before 1pm, an hour before the wedding, I turned the car into the long drive that led to the rendezvous. Harry knew where I was. I'd kept in touch with him every step of the way, and as I pulled up in front of the main door, he was there to greet me.

Dressed in his wedding suit, he grinned at me when he opened the door. "You took your time, Frank. We'd better get you dressed."

I got out of the car, and he folded into my arms. The hug was long and warm. I pushed him away and looked into his wonderful blue eyes. "It's good to see you."

He nodded. "I know. I've missed you, too. Let's get you to your room and get you ready." Then he ducked into the car and took my suit from the hanger before handing the keys to the concierge (who had already taken my suitcase from the car and left it in the foyer) to park the car. Linking my arm, he hustled me up the steps and into the hotel. His mother and father were there, as were quite a few more guests. Harry just yelled to them, "We'd better get him changed, or there'll be hell up if we're late." Then he signalled to the cute bell-boy to carry my suitcase up the stairs, and still linking my arm, he almost pulled me to my room. Once inside the room and the bell-boy had left, he placed my wedding-suit on the bed, went and locked the door, and came right into my arms again. This time the hug was deep and personal, and when we broke the hug, he stroked the side of my face as he looked at me, and with misty eyes, said, "I love the grey hairs on your temples. It makes you even more distinguished."

I smiled at him. "And you're still the most beautiful boy in the world."

I saw the twinkle in his eyes when he replied, "You might not think so after today."

I gave him a puzzled look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He giggled. "Never you mind. Let's get you dressed."

Harry was all over me, helping me remove my clothes, and when I was naked except for my underpants, he took hold of both my hands and stepped back to look at me. His eyes traced every inch of me, and then he was in my arms again. Unlike me, who loved young boys, Harry was part gay, and that's why the kiss he gave me was as passionate as any we'd ever shared. Had it been anyone else except Harry, I would have pushed them away, but this was still My Boy, and I did still love him. That's why I didn't stop him when he slowly went to his knees and pulled my underpants down: that's why my dick became hard when he took it into his mouth, grabbed the shaft with one hand, cupped my balls with the other, and deep throated me. I closed my eyes and let him have his way, and when I shot my load deep into his throat, I recalled the beautiful young boy who had done this to me so many times. When it was over, Harry squeezed my dick until not a drop of spunk was left, and then he licked me completely clean. I looked down at him grinning up at me, and asked, "Why?"

He got to his feet, placed his hands on my naked shoulders, looked deep into my eyes, and replied, "Just to tell you that I'll love you until the day I die."

I smiled, and nodded. "The same goes for me. No matter what."

Harry nodded. "No matter what. Now let's get ready and get married."

**********

My immediate thought when I first saw the back of him was that if his face was as beautiful as his suit and hair, the young boy would be a stunner. Although the ancient church was packed with well-dressed ladies and gentlemen, he stood out like a beautiful flower amongst a bed of weeds. Two pews back from the three stone steps that led to the chancel, seated right on the end of the old oak furniture, by the nave, on the Bride's family side he was. I'm not sure if it was the suit or the hair that caught my attention first. Both were beautiful. The suit he was wearing was pure white, as were the stylish shoes – one which was protruding into the aisle until he saw us coming, and which he then withdrew. But maybe it was his hair, which I'd noticed as soon as Harry and I walked through the door of the church. It was auburn. Not ginger, but a deep, reddish brown; longish; styled perfectly to nestle just above the collar of his jacket. When others turned to watch us walking down the aisle, so did he, and I was knocked head over heels at his fabulous beauty. Something else was attracted to him, too, and I had to make a conscious effort to control it.

When we stopped at the front, my legs felt weak. It wasn't because I was nervous at being Best Man at the wedding; it was because I knew just behind and to the right of me was perhaps the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen. Harry was beautiful as a boy, but this little guy was even way ahead of him in the Beauty Stakes. I wanted to turn around and stare at him, but I didn't dare. Instead, I shifted slightly and took a quick glance at him before looking quickly away. That's when Harry dug me in the ribs, and grinned. I looked at him, and asked in a whisper, "What was that for?"

Harry chuckled, and whispered back. "I told you that you might not think I was so beautiful after today."

I gave him a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

Harry's shoulders shook as he suppressed his laugh. "He's gorgeous, isn't he?" he whispered into my ear.

I pretended not to know what he was talking about. "Who is?"

That's when Harry couldn't suppress his laugh, and he spluttered with amusement. When he'd controlled himself, he looked me right in the eyes with that mischievous smile I knew so well, and whispered, "The well-dressed boy. The boy in the white suit. Rosemarie's nephew. He's as gay as they come, and he's got the hots for you." Then he looked away and pretended to be indifferent. When I didn't bite, he grinned at me again, and said, "He's thirteen, and I chose that suit for him especially so you'd notice him."

I grinned at him. "You're one crazy guy! The lad doesn't even know me."

Harry looked up and did a pretend whistle. "He does. He knows everything about you. He insisted I tell him."

I was just about to tell him he was being his usual stupid self when the organ began to play, `Here comes the Bride'. Like everyone else, we both looked back to see Rosemarie entering the church on the arm of her father. The bridal gown of satins and silk and lace she was wearing was beautiful. It should have been. It was a present from me, and had cost a fortune. She looked absolutely radiant, and when she saw me, she gave me a warm smile. We got on well did Rosemarie and I. Yes, she knew Harry had been my lover, but rather than it becoming a barrier between us, because she knew our sexual liaison was in the past, it became more of a binding thing than a hindrance. She might not have thought that had she seen Harry with my dick down his throat and swallowing my spunk not much more than an hour ago. But I was never going to tell her, so why worry. Harry was bisexual, and him getting married would never change that.

The train of the gown stretched well behind her, carried by four little boys dressed in burgundy suits. They looked dead cute, and the thought went through my mind that when they were all about six years older, I would gladly enjoy an orgy with them. Little stunners they were, and they added to the beauty of the moment. But even though all my attention should have been on the bride and her little pageboys, it wasn't. The well-dressed boy was firmly in my sights. He was looking back, and then he turned and looked directly at me. Our eyes met, and he gave me a small, shy smile. I returned it briefly, and then looked away. I swallowed hard. The eyes that had looked into mine were brown, and because the lighting in the church was poor, his pupils were large and distended. It had been like looking into deep pools of liquid amber that perfectly matched his beautiful hair. I was smitten: helplessly in love at first sight.

**********

I don't remember a lot about the wedding service. I know I got the ring bit right when I was asked for it, and I remember the deep feeling of affection I had for my boy when I saw his lips kissing the bride. Those lips had been my life at one time. I dreamt of them; I worshipped them; I loved them. There wasn't a single part of my body that those lips had not kissed, and my dick adored them when they were wrapped around it. I had drunk saliva from them, and pushed them apart to get to the delicious young tongue that fed me even more, especially on that very first time when we made love in front of the log fire. But they no longer belonged to me. They hadn't for quite a long time now. I wasn't gay. The adult male body had no attraction for me. Only the young, nubile ones did that.

**********

Before Harry, there had only been a couple of boys who I had sex with, and they were fleeting liaisons. One was just a quick suck of his little dick through a thin, hardboard toilet wall, but the other was a little more substantial. I met him in the toilets, too. Well, to be perfectly correct, just outside the toilets.

It was when I was in my early twenties, when I was young and horny and foolish. I'd been for a piss in the park toilets, hoping I might meet a boy there. The place was empty. I hung around for a while, and when another man came in, I scooted. I wasn't into men. I wanted young meat. At that age, anything young would do me. I wanted a boy.

He was lingering about outside when I walked out. He was nice. About eleven I thought, and he smiled at me. We were out in the open, so I didn't dare approach him, and I was cursing that he hadn't been in the toilets. So I decided to walk away, hoping he would follow. He did. There was a wood at the back of the park where gay men met, and I headed in that direction. I kept glancing behind me and saw that, although keeping a distance, he was following me. My heart was racing like mad, and my dick was throbbing in my pants when I headed into the wood. I slowed down and looked behind me. He was almost up with me now. Then he was by my side. He looked up at me, and asked, "Have you got any money, Mister?"

I nodded. This was new to me, but I pretended I knew what it was all about. "How much?" I asked.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"What we do."

I became suddenly brave. After all, this was only a little kid I was dealing with. "A fuck?"

"Have you got a condom?"

That took me by surprise. "No."

The boy shook his head. "No fucking then. I'll wank you for a fiver."

"What about if I wank you?"

The boy giggled. "That's free just so long as I get my fiver for wanking you."

And it was. Once we were deep into the wood, the boy was soon stripped and naked, and I was all over him. I didn't take my clothes off, but my dick was never in my pants. I wanked him and sucked him off twice more before he finally wanked me off. After that, it cost me quite a few quid, but I did get to fuck him quite a few times. He had an arsehole like a sponge: he took every bit of my seven inches... easily. Then I got busy making money and left that place. But I'd leant a lot from Anthony.

After Harry grew too old for me, I got it abroad. There was plenty abroad if you were willing to pay. But I never found love again, and that's what I desperately desired. And that's when the well-dressed boy came into my life, during the marriage of the young man I still loved. As I was to discover, there's nothing as strange as life, and even if the road of life is rocky and steep, we have to manage it if we are to attain that we desire most. And on that day in the church, I began a journey in my life that would take me to places I would never have thought existed.

To be continued...

You can find my other stories on Nifty here. If you wish to comment on this or any of my other stories, just drop me a line to john.thestoryteller@gmail.com Genuine comments will be appreciated. All flames will be extinguished in the trash bin.