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.
By John T. S. Teller.
Part 6.
We looked an odd lot when we walked into McDonald's in a pedestrianised area of Salisbury. I was dressed casually, and the others wore their wedding outfits. I had to park a way off, so it had been like that since we left the car. Joel had left off his dicky bow, and his shirt was open-necked, and because it was not too warm, they were shivering when we eventually got there. But once inside, apart from the strange/admiring glances, we soon settled down. I did my best to take their minds off what had happened the night before; cracking jokes about the food and likening it to some of the stranger meals I'd had in far-away places. Joel sat by me, his leg constantly in contact with mine. All-in-all, it went very well, and then we had to make the journey back to the car. By this time it had started raining: that miserable sort of light rain that hangs on clothes, and when we got in the car (Joel by my side and Denise and Wendy in the rear seats), Denise apologised for getting the leather seats wet. I switched on the seat heaters and air circulation to full power and told her that by the time we got `home', everything would be dry. Then we set out for Fordingbridge: their home.
After the fun in McDonald;s, the journey was not too pleasant. Little Wendy was happy enough (she didn't realise the seriousness of the situation), but Denise was rather quiet, and Joel spent most of his time looking though the side window at the passing countryside. Just occasionally he glanced at me and gave me a half-smile. I tried putting myself in his shoes to work out what was going through his mind. Not only would he be thinking about what might happen if his step-father was jailed, he knew, just as I did, that in a couple of hours we would be parting: me back to my home in Canterbury – 150 miles and almost three hours away, and seeing each other was going to be difficult. We could probably meet casually if I made a purpose visit to see them, but us being together to do what we really wanted to do was going to be problematic. Even if Aiden went to jail, his grandparents wouldn't take kindly to me turning up and taking him away to continue our affair. I decided that I would have to play it by ear and both of us would have to be patient. He said he was going to email me, but did he have a PC or a laptop? And did he have a web-based email address that would be necessary for us to carry out a clandestine affair? I decide to make small-talk and find out, so when he next half-smiled at me, I asked, "Have you got a laptop at home?"
He knew immediately where I was going, and nodded. "Yes. I'll take it to granddad's with me."
I winked at him. "Does your grandfather have wireless access?"
"Yes. I'll be able to logon there." Then he asked, "Do you mind if I email you, Frank?"
I was getting an idea where he was going: he was making things as simple as possible without alarming his mother. She could hear what we were saying, and he'd decided that it would be better if we didn't keep it a secret. So when I replied, I half-turned towards Denise in the back, and said, "Not at all. If your mother doesn't mind, you can email me and let me know how things are with you and your family. I'll be leaving you later today, and I have lots of work to do back in Canterbury. That's if it's OK with you, Denise? I'd like to know how things are with you all."
Denise seemed happy with it, and smiled when she said, "Not at all, Frank. You've been really good to us." Then she added, "Joel might drive you crazy though. He seems to have hit it off with you, so you'll probably get fed up with his mails."
I laughed. "I have a good Personal Secretary. She's my spam filter." When I turned back to look at the road, I gave Joel another wink to tell him that his mails would not go through that route. He had my very personal email address that didn't go through work, and he knew it. I glanced at him again. "Gmail is a good web-based mail. Do you use that when you're away from home?"
Joel shook his head. "No. Is it easy to set up?"
I nodded. "As easy as pie. I'll explain it to you later."
We were just approaching the outskirts of Fordingbridge, and the sat-nav told me to take the next right. That's when Joel took over and gave me directions.
**********
Bill had said: They've got a house too big for them, with a mortgage too big for them. When I pulled into the drive, I realized what he meant. It was a smart place, much more up-market than most of the properties we'd passed, in a place called `Burgate Fields'. In Canterbury, in this sort of location - which was much like mine – you wouldn't get much change out of a million if you bought it. Here, I reckoned it would be getting on for half that price. Then a few things rattled round in my brain. If Denise had a mortgage when Joel's dad died, that would have been paid off completely, and if they sold that house, it would have given them a good head start towards the price of this house. There are advantages to marrying a widow, even if it does come with the baggage of a young boy who is not your son. So, I was putting two and two together, and I was pretty sure that I wasn't far off the correct answer of four. It would explain why Aiden was all `Wendy' and had little respect for Denise and Joel. They were the `baggage' that came with building up possessions. Although tanker drivers were well paid, they didn't earn enough for this type of living.
When we got in the house, again I was impressed. Everything was top-of-the-range stuff, including a wonderful array of colourful pottery. When I remarked on it, Denise said, "It's Aiden's. It's Moorcroft Pottery. He collects it. It cost thousands, and we're not allowed to touch it."
Joel scowled. "I broke a vase once when I was ten. He said it was worth six hundred quid. He grounded me for the whole of the half-term holiday, and stopped my pocket money for three months. I didn't do it on purpose. It was an accident. I tripped over one of Wendy's toys."
I felt sick at heart, and right then I hoped they'd give the bastard ten years. Wendy then took my hand and pulled me towards a corner of the room where there was a cabinet filled with tiny Moorcroft objects. "Daddy bought those for me."
I smiled at her. "They've very nice, Wendy. Very nice."
"Can I show Frank my room, please mum?" asked Joel.
Denise waved a hand at him. "Yes, and while you're there, pack some clothes to take to Nana's. Frank will help you. You'll need them if we're staying overnight. And hang that suit up!"
I'm not sure if Denise had worked out that Joel `hanging his suit up' meant that I would be in the room with him when he did. Maybe she thought, because we'd shared a room last night, it wouldn't be a problem. If so, she was right. Joel and I would have absolutely no problem with that.
Joel hadn't been neglected in the Possession Stakes. He had a classy bunk bed against one wall, and a wall to wall wardrobe on the other wall. By the window overlooking the back garden was a writing desk, which was neat and tidy, as was the rest of his room. Not a thing out of place. I remember being in Harry's room at his home. That was a proper boy's room: socks and underwear all over the place, as were most of his other things. I remember telling him that it resembled a tip. He just laughed, brushed the dirty clothes under the bed with a foot, and because his parents were not at home, stripped naked and threw himself on the bed, wanking himself; staring lewdly right into my eyes. We had a wonderful hour that day, culminating with me buried deep into his gorgeous bottom while he squealed in orgasmic pleasure as I filled him with my hot man cream.
As soon as we got in the room, Joel came into my arms. I hugged him to me and we kissed a long, passionate kiss. Then he whispered, "I love you."
I brushed his hair back from his forehead. "I love you, Joel. We haven't got much time. Boot your laptop up and I'll sort you an email address while you hang your suit up."
Joel opened the laptop on the desk, booted it up, and left me to it while he stripped. When he was naked, he took out a pair of underpants from a drawer, and came to me. I stopped what I was doing, turned to him on the swivel-chair, took the underpants from him, and slipped them up his slim legs. When I got to his erect dick, I pulled him right to me, leaned down, and took his dick into my mouth, sucking a few times along its length while I caressed his soft buttocks with my other hand. I knew we were taking one almighty chance on doing this, but because we'd left Denise and Wendy downstairs and I hadn't heard them come up, I thought it was a risk worth taking. But this had to be a quick job, so besides sucking Joel off, I helped by wanking him with two fingers while I was doing it. When he grabbed the back of my head and began to hump seriously at me, I knew he was about to climax, so I did something I hadn't done before to his knowledge: I worked my fingers inside his bum cheeks and tickled his anus. My reward for that was a final thrust and two small spurts of boy juice to devour greedily. He pulled out, squeezed along the length of his softening dick, and I supped up the residue that oozed out of his piss-slit. Then I slipped on his underpants completely, grinned into his grinning face, and pointed towards the wardrobe.
By the time he was dressed, I'd made him a Gmail address with a false name. When he came to me, I explained what I'd done, wrote down the user name on a piece of paper, and told him the password. He couldn't stop giggling when I told him what it was: franklovesmydick. He whispered, "It should have been joellovesfranksdick."
We both laughed silently, and then set to packing his football holdall with clothes he thought he would need, and then went back downstairs. There was no sign of Denise or Wendy, and I whispered to Joel, "Where are they?"
He pointed up. "Didn't you hear them come up?"
I shook my head. "No. I hope they didn't hear us."
He grinned. "I don't care." Then he became serious. "When am I going to see you again?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. We'll work that out. Don't think too far ahead. Leave it to me and I'll try and sort things."
Joel nodded. "OK." Then he looked right into my eyes. "Don't leave it too long."
Just then, Denise came down the stairs with Wendy, carrying two bags. "She looked at me. "We're ready Frank. I'll show you where to go. Dad doesn't live far away."
**********
Bill and Sheila's house was exactly what I expected from a staid and elderly couple. In fact it wasn't a house, but a bungalow on a modest but tidy housing estate where all the fronts were open-plan and gardens set out as neat as granny's sewing.
Harry and Rosemarie were already there when we arrived, and I was more than made welcome. The interior was old fashioned but nice, and Sheila soon had the best pottery out to serve tea and biscuits. I liked Sheila. She was sort of everybody's granny: hair styled to suit a lady of her age, and she even wore a pinafore when she was making the tea. And she smiled a lot. Even more important to me, Joel was affectionate towards her, and the way he acted in this home told me that he was comfortable here. He liked his grandfather, too. Bill had a `Sergeant Major' way about him: flipping Joel affectionately round the ear if he got in the way, and Joel wasn't afraid to thump him in the back when he turned away. It was nice, and I thought that even if I wasn't around, Bill and Sheila would be Joel's refuge in times of stress. I felt much better for that.
Harry was his normal self: happy-go-lucky, but also pragmatic and serious when he needed to be. And after an hour of chatting, it was to Harry that I said I needed to be on my way. He nodded, and said, "It's raining outside. I'll see you out, Frank."
Joel piped up, "I'll come with you."
I said my `goodbyes' to everyone else, and then went to the car with Harry and Joel, who had put coats on. I knew we could be seen from the house, so anything I said would have to be done during our manly hugs. When Harry hugged me, he whispered, "I'll be doing my best from this end. You try and sort things from your end."
I nodded to him, and then turned to Joel. I held out my arms, and he came into them. I gave him a quick hug. He squeezed me and then let go. I got in the car, waved to them, and drove away. When I looked through my rear view mirror, Harry had his hand on Joel's shoulder, and they watched until I turned a corner and went out of sight. I felt physically sick.
**********
The drive back to my home in Canterbury was difficult; not because of the traffic, but because my head was jam-packed with mixed emotions. I'd fallen in love again with the most beautiful boy imaginable; had just witnessed the young man being wed who had been my lover; found myself in the midst of an almighty family calamity; and I was driving away from it all, completely powerless to really influence matters. It wasn't something I was used to. I was always in control. But not now I wasn't. My fate was mostly in the hands of the boy who was once my lover, and who I still loved with a passion, and peripheral folk who didn't know what was going on. Except Rosemarie, that is, so that was two allies I had on my side. Bill and I got on well, but I'm sure he wouldn't be as accommodating as Brendan had been. By the time I got home, I had a headache.
**********
I switched on the lights and put my suitcase in the hall. Then I went into the lounge and looked around. Harry was everywhere. I was estranged from my parents. Dad had died in a car accident when I was young, and mum had married a New Zealander. As soon as I was old enough to get my own place, mum upped and went off to New Zealand with her new fella. After that, we just drifted apart. Mum and I exchanged Christmas and birthday cards, and lately, I got updates about how she was happy and settled in her seventies. Good for her. That meant my home belonged completely to me with no family intrusions, and that's why photographs of Harry were everywhere, from when he was a small boy, right through to a couple of months ago when he was at a wedding of one of his pals.
I went to my favourite one of him, and picked it up. It was taken not long after I first met him (after the sex by the fire), and we were at Silverstone for the grand prix. We'd had a fabulous day, and he was standing by the open door of my car just before we left. His smile was radiant; the wind was blowing his hair; I got the background just perfect to catch the unruly wisps of gold in the sunlight, and he'd just told me that he was sending all his love through his eyes to me.
Lost in my melancholy world, I kissed the photograph – something I'd done a thousand times – and told him I loved him. Then I asked if he minded if I put photographs of Joel with those of his. It's what I often did: talk to myself. I imagined him answering me now with that grin on his face, and I knew his answer would be `Not at all'. Then I chuckled to myself. He would probably add: `Take one of him naked with his dick sticking up, and put it with that one of mine that you keep hidden.'
It was almost ten when I booted my laptop up and logged on to my personal email. My heart leapt when I saw a mail from Joel, entitled: Testing. I read it with mixed emotions.
Hi Frank.
Just testing and wanted to tell you that I'm already missing you.
Love Joel. XXX
I checked. The mail had been sent twenty minutes ago, so I mailed back:
Hello Joel.
Receiving you loud and clear. I've not stopped thinking about you since I left. Be strong for the next few days and then we'll see what's happening. Until things are sorted in court with your stepdad, we can't do anything. Mail me whenever you want.
Love you loads,
Frank. xxx
Ps. I'd like a photograph of you if you've got one.
Although I didn't expect it, I left the laptop running just in case I got a reply. I made a cup of tea, returned to the lounge, and saw that another mail had come in from Joel. I opened it and looked at the message and the picture he'd sent me. The message said: Mum took it with my camera before we went to the wedding. The photo was Joel standing in the lounge of their home, dressed in his white suit. He was smiling, and his hair had been done to perfection: the perfect photograph. Below the photo was another message. Can you send me one of you please? Joel. XXX
I searched for a suitable photo from my online picture album, and I found one that Harry had taken about a year ago when he and one of his pals stayed with me after a night out in London. I was sitting in the lounge, in my favourite chair, just enjoying having him and his pal around. He'd picked up my camera without me knowing, and had snapped me when I was laughing at something his pal, Andrew, had said about their night out. I liked the photo. It was me without reservations, just being myself. When I sent Harry a copy, he said that he adored it. I emailed it direct from the online album, and then replied to Joel's mail with: Thank you for your beautiful photo. It's perfect. I've just sent you one of me. I hope you like it. Love Frank. XXX
Within a couple of minutes, I received a reply: It's made me cry. I love it, as I do you. Speak again to you soon. Love and loads of hugs from Joel. XXX
**********
I lay in bed looking at the two photographs. I'd printed out a 10 x 8 copy of the one Joel sent me, and mounted it in a frame that I'd borrowed from one of the many of Harry. I knew he wouldn't mind. I studied them side-by-side. Two boys from two different eras in my life. Then and now. I tried to compare them, but it was impossible. Both were supremely beautiful in their own way.
Harry George Washington had been the complete thing: the perfect boy for someone like me. He was the `bottom' amongst us, taking from me everything that he desired, and giving to me everything that I desired. My greatest joy was in pleasing him; sending him to those heights that only when the mix of love and sex is perfectly balanced can Nirvana be achieved. And we'd achieved it from the very first time we made love by the fire. Our love required complete unselfishness, and it was in both our natures to be unselfish. There were times when I spent all night satisfying my lover sexually without once climaxing myself. It was an honour for me to be of service to the beautiful boy who had brought such joy into my life, and Harry appreciated it. Whenever we made love, he rewarded me by snuggling into my warmth, accepting and needing the love part as much as I did. He once told me that the `after loving' was the most beautiful part to him, too. That it was like being in the womb to him; safe and secure with the man he loved. After he'd said that, he added that I shouldn't take it as a meaning that he didn't want to be fucked every minute of every day, though. We both laughed at that.
But we laughed a lot, did Harry and I. Fun was a great part of what we were. What we were? Events at the wedding made me realize that it wasn't just what we were in the past when we were sexually active that was fun, but what fun we could still have even though the sex part had passed. Well, for me it had passed, but when Harry sucked me off before the wedding, I realized the passing was a one person thing. What would I have done if he'd asked me to suck him off? I would have done it, but it would not have carried the joys I had when he was young. But Harry knew that, and that's why he served me up his replacement: Joel.
I looked at the picture of Joel Windsor; the new boy in my life. Would it last? There was no telling. At his tender age, it was well within the bounds of possibility that he would soon tire of me. Unless he was another Harry, that is. But what were the possibilities that I could strike gold twice? I kissed the photo and prayed that I could. And then I took them both to bed and made love to them: an amazing and as satisfying ménage à troi that ever existed, and the sexual heights I reached that night were greatly heightened by having two small boys in bed with me, both clamouring for what only I could give them: love and sexual satisfaction beyond their wildest dreams.
To be continued...
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