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A small sermon. Nothing in life is free. Everything costs, and Nifty is no different, so please send them a couple of $'s/£'s to cover costs and stuff. They're very discreet, and you won't get your name in lights if you do.
By John T. S. Teller.
I was forty-five when my wife died of cancer after we'd been married twenty three years. They'd made a balls up at the hospital, and by the time they found out what was really wrong with her, it was too late. Of course, trying to find out how they'd cocked up was impossible. They do that in the medical profession: close ranks and make things very difficult to prove anything. I suppose if I'd gone at them like a dog at a juicy bone, I could have got somewhere, but I had a nineteen-year-old daughter at university and a seventeen-year old son who would soon leave college and graduate to university, and I had better things to do than pursue the blame-game. It wouldn't have brought my wife back: my children's mother back. A death in the family can have some benefits. It might sound callous, but it's reality. My wife was insured for death, and so was our home if either of us died. So, her death meant I had an extra £250,000 in the bank, and the mortgage was paid in full. I also owned a small business (that I'd lost interest in) which managed quite well without me being there, and I would spend a lot of the time reading or pretty much doing what I pleased instead of working, and when my son went to university in late Summer, a year after Sylvia died, I was alone, except that I had a sister who lived nearby.
She had one child, David, who was thirteen. He went to the local school, and I would take him and pick him up if the weather wasn't too good. Some days he would do after-hours clubs at the school and then walk home, and only be in the house for an half an hour before his parents came home. Other times, if he had no clubs, he would call me on his mobile and expect me to be there no matter what I was doing, and he would come back to my house for an hour and a half and then either I would take him home, or, depending on how busy she was, my sister would pick him up.
Me and David had a good relationship. He was a lovely boy: mischievous; witty; demanding, as some boys are. I didn't mind; having him being part of my life was good for me. Sometimes he would just ring on a Saturday and tell me that he was staying over. He enjoyed that, because he could stay up late and watch films his parents wouldn't allow him to watch, and he even got me to buy him a Playstation, which he could play while he stayed over. I wasn't totally stupid with him. I had rules, and they were sound ones I'd used on my own kids when they were younger. But I was a bit more relaxed about kids than my sister's husband, who was a bit of a bore, and far too strict for my liking. Yes, David liked staying with his favourite Uncle Gary. He never tired of telling me I was his favourite uncle, especially when he wanted something like a pair of the latest trainers or a new game for his Playstation. He would just give me that cheeky grin, and whatever he wanted, he got it. Of course, I would get flak from my sister, and her husband never tired of telling her that I was spoiling him. I let it all go over my head. I spoiled my own children rotten, and they'd turned out to be two fine kids.
It was early November when I got a call from David to pick him up from school. I was expecting it: the weather was awful; raining and cold. I'd been repairing my washing machine (that's what my business is: domestic appliance repairs) and I'd just taken the brushes out of the motor when the phone rang.
The familiar voice spoke. "Hello Uncle Gary. Can you pick me up please?"
"OK Dave. I'll be there in ten minutes."
The Lexus was not in the garage; it was in the drive of my secluded four bedroom home, and after I'd washed my hands, I drove to the school. David was waiting for me. There was also another lad with him – a Middle-Eastern boy of similar age to David. I pulled up and they both got in; David in the front and the other lad in the back.
I got the usual cheeky grin. "Can you drop Halil off at his house after you've dropped me off when Mum gets home, please, Uncle Gary?"
I grinned back at him. "I'm a bloody taxi driver now am I? Where does he live? Anyway, doesn't he have to go home right away?"
David ignored me and slipped a CD into the player. Soon, Jay Z was blasting out on the quadruple speakers and David was miming to it as I drove towards my home. I looked in the rear view mirror at my `fare'. Two beautiful, dark-brown, puppy eyes were staring at me. I'm not into kids `that way', but in the fraction of a second I looked into them, I felt something stir inside me. I was uncomfortable for a few moments, and then concentrated on my driving. I knew David would answer my question in his own time, and he did after Jay Z was well established noise-wise. "It's ok. Halil has spoken to his dad. He's a taxi driver, and he says you can drop him off later after you've dropped me off."
That made me laugh inwardly, but I gave David a scowl. "So, you're telling me that Halil's dad is a taxi driver, and I'm ferrying you two about for nothing? Something's wrong here. I should get a bloody taxi licence, and then at least I can start charging you."
David just grinned and kept miming to the music. Again I looked through the rear view mirror, and those puppy eyes were smiling at me. I smiled back at them, and each time I checked the mirror before we got to my house, our eyes met. I was wondering what Halil was thinking of my blue eyes when I pulled into the drive and parked as near to the front porch as I could so we wouldn't get wet. The boys got out, and because David had a key, they were in the house before I'd locked the car, and when I closed the door of the house, they'd both dropped their schoolbags and hung their coats up and were on the way to the kitchen/diner. I took my coat and shoes off and went to join them. The fridge was already open, and David was pouring two large glasses of Coke. I ignored them, and switched the kettle on to make a coffee. By the time I'd made it, they were in the lounge, watching tv. I thought about getting on with repairing the washer, but I was curious. I wanted to see more of this boy who looked into my eyes, so I sauntered into the lounge and deposited myself in an easy chair, which gave me a good view of him while he sat on the sofa with David, who was doing his normal thing: flicking through the cable-TV channels faster than I could ever do. Eventually, he found one he liked, and both boys watched it. I didn't. I picked up National Geographic and began to flick through it. My mind wasn't on the book; it was on the boy who wasn't paying too much attention to the TV either. More than once our eyes met and then averted. I decided to go and mend the washer before he got silly ideas in his head.
Just after five, I got a phone call from my sister, Wendy, asking if I would drop David off. I piled the boys in the car and drove to Wendy's semi-detached house, and waited for David to get through his front door before driving away to take my `fare' home. I wasn't sure where he lived, because it was an area of the city I was unfamiliar with, mainly because it was inhabited by the immigrant population. Halil gave me instructions, and when I finally pulled up outside a small terraced house, I asked if he minded if I just cleared it with his father that he'd been at my house until this time. Halil didn't mind, and he said he'd send his father out to me. He went in, I waited a few moments until his father came out, opened the electric window, leaned over and said, "I just wanted to check that it was OK for Halil to come to my house with my nephew."
His father seemed a nice enough guy, and smiled, and in good English said, "Yes. That's very good of you. I hope he's been no bother."
"No... not at all. He's been a good lad. He's welcome to come any time with David if it doesn't bother you. I enjoy the company. They stop me from growing old too soon."
Halil's father laughed. "You're too young to be old. If he's no problem, he can come to you with David anytime. They're good friends at school. Thank you. Goodbye."
I nodded, and put the window up. Halil was standing in the doorway. He gave me a shy wave. I returned it and drove away thinking there was something wrong with me because Halil was in my head.
All evening I thought about what had gone on. When I was pretending to read NG, I'd been observing Halil. He was slightly taller than David - who's quite a small boy for his age - but less chunky, had typical black hair, and was a good looking boy. More than that; he was a very beautiful boy if you can call boys beautiful. Handsome didn't fit him, but beautiful did. But so what? The `so what?' bit was that he had eyes that looked into me. I remember thinking: Why should a boy of thirteen (I'd asked his age earlier) make eye contact with a forty-five-year-old man? It isn't normal. Hold on a minute, Gary Riley, you made eye contact with him, too! This wasn't a one-way thing. You're the one who's been touched by this beautiful boy. Beautiful boy! There you go again. Since when have boys been beautiful, Gary Riley? Boys are exuberant; fun; trouble; great-to-have-about, but not beautiful. Well, this one is! He really is beautiful. In fact, he's so beautiful I hope I don't see him again. I don't need this beautiful boy shit. I'm a normal guy, a widower with two grown-up children, and I'm as straight as a dye.
Well, I always thought I was until I went to bed thinking about him, and I was still thinking about him when I knocked one off, and afterwards thought I needed to get out more and find myself a decent female fuck. But I couldn't do that. Sylvia was still very much a part of me. I'd managed, but I did miss her like mad.
The weather was still awful the following morning, and I checked to see if David needed a lift to school. I was disappointed when, because she had three days holiday owing to her and she'd decided to take them, Wendy said she was dropping him off and was also picking him up after clubs. Part of the disappointment was that I was hoping Halil would be around so I could see him again. Wendy's decision meant I wouldn't be seeing David again that week. Shit! So I decided to go to the shop and sort some stuff.
Saturday morning. The phone rang. It was David. "Hiya Uncle Gary. I'm stopping this weekend. Can you come and pick me up?"
I ask, "Is it ok with your father?"
"Of course it is. He's golfing most of the weekend, and mum's got a girl's night tonight."
I was pleased David was stopping. "Ok. I'll be over in half an hour. It's a good job for you that I don't have much of a social life. How's your mate, Halil?"
"He's OK." Then there was a slight delay before he said, "Hey, Uncle Gary, how about I ring him and see if he can have a stayover? You don't mind, do you? He can sleep in Mike's room, or on the floor in my room."
I spoke without thinking. "No chance. What do you think this is; a bloody nursery?"
"Awww, go on Uncle Gary. Please?"
David's `please' was done in a whining tone, and it made me grin. It was the same tone he used to wangle anything he wanted out of me. I thought about his request. Most probably, Halil's parents wouldn't agree to it anyway, but the thought of having the `beautiful boy' staying here in my house was tempting, even if I knew I shouldn't because of the thoughts I'd had about him. But the temptation was too much and I wilted. "Ok. He probably won't come, but you can ask him. I'll see you in half an hour. Be ready!"
I put the phone down and thought about things. I wished David hadn't brought the subject up. I was going to be damned disappointed now if Halil couldn't stay. Wendy was in when I got to her home and let myself in. She grinned at me. "I hear you've got another lodger for the weekend."
I laughed. "Nah. I only agreed because I knew his parents wouldn't let him."
Wendy giggled. "You're wrong this time Bro. He's coming to stay with David."
I stared at her. "You're joking!"
Now Wendy was really laughing. "No, I'm not. You should learn when to keep your big mouth shut. That boy of mine can twist you round his little finger whenever he wants, so you deserve it. I hope you have a great weekend in your nursery. I'm going to have a good time with the girls, and Bill will be having a great time golfing."
I splutter, "But what the bloody hell am I going to feed him? I don't know what he likes or anything."
Wendy was still laughing. "Order an Indian from the Taj Palace. They do a good curry there."
Even I had to laugh now. "I don't like bloody Indian food, as well you know. He'll have to have bread and jam."
We didn't have chance to go on with the conversation. David came dashing into the room in his usual hyperactive way and yelled that he was ready. I looked at Wendy. She grinned. "Have a good time, Bro."
I grinned back at her, and went out the door where David was already sitting in the car. He waved to his mother as we drove off. I had to yell to make David hear above the rap music, "How come they've let Halil come and stay? They've only met me once."
David switched the sound down and quipped, "He's not staying with you, he's staying with me. Anyway, can you remember where he lives?"
I scuffed David on the side of the face. "I'm not that old! Are you sure he can come and stay over?"
"Yes. I've phoned him, and he asked his dad. His dad thinks you're ace with your posh car. Halil likes you as well." David went back to listening to his music and making the movements.
I thought about what he'd said: Halil likes you as well. For some reason, I was dead pleased he did, and I was also glad the way things were turning out. I was actually going to have the beautiful boy with the fascinating eyes staying overnight in my home. Then it came to a matter of where to he was going to sleep. David's bedroom was quite large, and I had a folding camp bed in the garage that would fit easily in there. Alternatively, he could sleep in Mike's room if he was too shy to sleep with David. I suppose it depended on how familiar the two boys were. If they were really easy going with each other, because he had a double bed, Halil could sleep with David. Another alternative would have been that Halil could have slept with me. Ha ha. That would be nice. Oh dear, Uncle Gary, you are getting carried away with yourself thinking you could be sleeping with a pretty boy for company. `Pretty'! Yes, that's what he was. I'd been searching in my mind for a word that described him. Beautiful was OK, but pretty was better. I suppose beautiful would best describe his smile, and pretty would describe the whole, and now I was thinking about him again, in actual fact, Halil was an effeminate boy, so `pretty' was more than suitable. I thought about his smile. He'd given me quite a few when he came after school and when I'd waved goodbye to him. His smiles were special. They transformed his lovely features into something really special, and when he did one, his eyes narrowed and the gleam from them was magnified as if he was using a light sabre. A light sabre! Good God man, you've been watching too many of David's films. David brought me out of my reverie.
"What are you grinning at Uncle Gary?"
I laughed, and glanced at him. "Nothing much. I was just thinking of the shit you keep dropping me in. What nationality is Halil?"
David grinned. "You're not supposed to swear. You know dad doesn't like it. Halil is Turkish, but he was born here."
My dislike of David's father wasn't a secret between us. He was a selfish bastard, and would rather be out with his mates in the pub than looking after his wife and son. He wasn't too fond of me either. Not long after Sylvia died, because I knew her old car was knackered and she couldn't afford to replace it, I bought a new Citroen Picasso for Wendy. Her bastard husband couldn't even be bothered to say `thank you'. It didn't bother me particularly, because I'd bought it for Wendy and David, and not him. It did piss me off though when Wendy rang me and asked me to bring David home, because he was out gallivanting about in it with his bloody mates.
I winked at David. "No, and you shouldn't be playing on sixteen plus games on that bloody thing I bought you either, nor that rubbish you listen to on my CD player, so keep your big mouth shut."
David looked away and giggled. He and I had our own rules about what was our business or not. Just as Eminem were blasting out `Lose Yourself', we arrived at Halil's home. David left me with Eminem, bounded out of the car, knocked on the door and was still mime-rapping when Halil's father opened it. He stopped rapping in his tracks, but I couldn't stop the CD in time and `The beat goes on' was blasting through the open window before I managed to switch the sound down. I shook my head at Halil's father, and he knew exactly what I meant and laughed. Then he came to me and said, "Is it ok for Halil to stay with you?"
I nodded. "It's fine. They can rap away in Dave's bedroom, so it will do me a favour. I'm sick of Eminem and Jay Zee and all the others. Is it ok with you that Halil stays?"
"It's fine. When it's time for him to come home, I can pick him up if you like. What time will that be?"
I think for a moment before answering. "Around five tomorrow. You can pick him up if you want, but I have to take Dave back, so it's not a problem to drop Halil off. I'll leave it to you. If you want him back earlier, you can give me a ring. Do you want my mobile number? By the way, I'm Gary Davies."
Halil's father held out his hand, and I shook it. "I'm Azad Barizani. I'll give you my mobile number, and have yours."
We swapped numbers, and by the time we had, Halil came out of the house with his holdall, and he and David got in the back of the Lexus. I winked at Azad and nodded towards the boys in the back. "It looks as though I'm doing your job."
He laughed. "Take them to Tescos. Sometimes you get a tip."
I was beginning to like Azad. He was my kind of guy. I turned to the boys in the back. "Where to Mateys?"
Azad roared with laughter. Where to Matey? were the first words Asian taxi drivers spoke to ask their fares where their destination was. We were all laughing as I sped off back to my home. I looked in the rear view mirror, and Halil's eyes were sparkling at me. I think I'd gained some karma with my joke.
It was six-thirty. The boys were playing Armoured Core 4 on the PS3 and they had to take turns because they only had one controller. I reckoned if this dual-stayover was to become a regular thing, I'd have to get another so they could play two-player games. The way these two lads had got on today, I was hoping they would pair up. It was easier having two staying over rather than one, because they kept themselves amused rather than me having to join in to keep David from getting bored.
I'd enjoyed the day, especially watching Halil, and I'm sure Halil had enjoyed the day watching me. He'd been watching me, of that I was sure. Almost every time I looked at him, it wouldn't be more than a few seconds before he looked at me and gave me one of his special smiles. It was almost as if he was flirting with me. I was desperately hoping David hadn't noticed anything. I'd also made bodily contact with Halil. The boys were lying on the rug in front of the coal-effect gas fire when I knelt down between them and asked what they wanted for lunch. They left off watching TV for a few moments and gave me their attention, and agreed that cheese on toast would be OK, and I fondled both their necks before I got up to make it. The contact was normal for one: David, but making contact with Halil was anything but. I ran my hand down the back of his head and allowed my fingers to stroke his neck where the collar of his shirt was open. I didn't hang around to see if he'd noticed what I'd done, and when I went to make their meal I was thinking how nice it had been to feel at the softness of the boy who was creating affection in me. When it was time for dinner, I needed to know what the boys would choose. After all my worrying about what to feed Halil, it was simple. They decided on pizzas, and some bites to go with them, so I phoned for a delivery, and when they came we all sat on the sofa and tucked in. Later in the evening, when we were all watching Dr Who, because I needed to sort stuff, I asked what the sleeping arrangements were.
David look at me and said, "It's OK, Uncle Gary. We've already talked about it. Halil can sleep with me, so you don't need to make that other bed up."
I shrugged my shoulders. "That's fine then. It saves me some bother. What time are you two going to bed?"
David looked at Halil. "Shall we watch Match-of-the-Day?"
By now, the shyness had left Halil. "That's a good idea." He looked at me. "Can we can stay up that late?"
I nodded. "Sure. I'll be turning in shortly after. You pair of rogues have worn me out."
Halil grinned. "You can have a lie-in to make up for it."
I laughed. "Well, thank you Halil. It's nice of you to tell me I can have a lie-in. I'll feel all the better for knowing that I have your approval. Is there any particular time you want me to get up?"
Now Halil was laughing, and his eyes glinted as he said, "Don't be too late."
I winked at him, and then stared into his beautiful eyes. I'm not sure if he understood what I was saying through them, but I hoped he was. I was telling him that I'd not be any later than was necessary, because seeing him first thing in the morning was going to be a pleasure. However, the only words I could reply with were, "I'll make sure I'm not."
I think he got the message, because he dropped his eyes and then lifted them again, and looked into my own with the sort of look that told me he was thinking as I was. We watched Match-of-the-Day, and then I told the boys to go to bed. They both looked dead tired, and I certainly was. David got up first and made his way to the door. "Goodnight, Uncle Gary. See you in the morning."
I waved a dismissive hand. "Goodnight David."
Halil was about to go through the door when he turned with a shy look on his face. He smiled, and looked into my eyes. "Goodnight. Are you going to bed now?"
I knew his words had more meaning than an off the cuff question, and I decided to be bold. I returned the eye contact. "Not just yet. I'm going to have a drink and read for a while. I'll be here for about an hour." I was amazed at what I'd said. I'd pretty much told him that if he wanted me, I would be waiting. I think he got the message, because he nodded and went off with David.
I turned the TV off and poured a large Scotch. I needed it. My heart was racing at the thought that I'd just propositioned a small boy to join me if he wanted to. That Scotch went down, and I poured another, and drank that. That was better. The boys had been giggling when they went to bed, but then things went quiet. One part of me was hoping they'd gone to sleep, and another was hoping one of them hadn't. Half an hour after they'd gone to bed, I saw the door of the lounge move, and Halil came into the room. Despite the couple of Scotches, my nerves were jangling as I looked at him dressed in a pair of blue silk pyjamas, and I asked, "Can't you sleep, Halil?"
He stared at me and shook his head. "No."
I asked, "Is David asleep?"
He nodded. "He snores."
I grinned at him. "I know he does. Do you want to sit with me for a while, or would you rather sleep in the spare room in Mike's bed?"
He smiled. "I'm not tired yet. Can I sit with you for a bit? Please?"
The drinks had relaxed my nerves and given me some Dutch courage. Another couple of drinks and I reckon he'd need to keep me at arm's length. "Sure. Do you want to turn the fire up a bit, and you can sit on the rug?"
He pointed to the space beside me on the sofa. "Is it OK if I sit with you?"
It was a three-seat sofa, and I was sitting at the end. I waved a hand at it and beckoned him to sit down. "Sure. You don't mind if I have another drink, do you?"
Halil grinned. "No."
I got up to refill my glass, and when I turned back, Halil was sitting in the middle of the sofa. I sat down, and he was almost touching me, even though I'd made sure to sit right at the end so as not to be too close to him. In fact, the only way I could be comfortable was to sit with my arm on the back of the sofa. The fact that we were so close was entirely the boy's choice. I liked that. I took a sip of the scotch and looked at him. "Do you want the TV on?"
He shook his head and smiled. "No. It's nice just sitting here with you. What are you reading?"
I put my scotch down and picked up the book I was reading from the glass table. "It's just a novel. I like to read for half an hour before I go to bed." I put it down and picked up my glass again.
Halil seemed a little worried. "Have I spoiled your reading?"
I looked at him, and those beautiful eyes never wavered from my own when I answered, "No. It's nice sitting here with you." I lowered my hand that was on the back of the sofa and took hold of a small part of his PJ's. "Are these silk?"
He nodded shyly. "Yes." Then he looked in my eyes again when he asked, "Do you like them?"
I took hold of a larger amount and rubbed it through my fingers. "Yes I do. They're lovely and soft to touch. Are they nice to wear?"
Halil nodded and grinned. "They are if you don't wear anything under them."
I took another sip of my drink, raised my eyebrows and gave him a naughty smile. "And are you wearing anything under them?"
The smile he gave me back was a cheeky one, accompanied by a shake of his head. "No."
I couldn't help but laugh at this little boy who knew exactly what he was saying, and I allowed my hand to fall onto his shoulder to give him a small hug. I half expected him to pull away after I relaxed the hug, but he stayed leaning on me. My hand was still on his shoulder, and I fondled his back with my thumb. The softness of the material allowed my thumb to travel over his body better than if he was wearing nothing, and I felt myself becoming aroused. As I fondled him, he relaxed his head onto my chest and under the arm that was over him. Despite the fact that I'd drunk more than two large scotches, my heart was pounding. I needed to make a call on this situation before it got out of hand. I squeezed his shoulder. "Would you like to go to bed now?"
Halil's head came up and his eyes stared into mine. "Do you want me to?"
I stared back at him. "Not really, but it might be better if you do."
"Because you're warm and soft and cuddly, and I haven't had many cuddles for a long time. So, unless you want to be cuddled by an old man, I reckon it's better if you do go to bed."
Halil's eyes were sad as he looked into mine. "David told me about your wife." Then the look in his face changed slightly and his eyes dropped as he asked, "Doesn't David give you any cuddles?"
I just knew the question wasn't an innocent one. The timbre in his voice told me he was fishing for more than an innocent answer. After all, I reckoned by now we were both aware of a certain chemistry between us, and if he was right in his assumption that I fancied him sexually, then why, because David was also a thirteen-year-old boy, would I not be interested him that way too? I decided to clear the air that way. The thought of being sexually attracted to my nephew was a sick thought anyway. "No. I love David, but he's not tactile."
"Tactile? What does that mean?"
I smiled at him. "It means we don't touch much."
Halil gave me a delicious smile, probably a relieved one that David and I were not an `item'. "That's a shame. I know what it's like not to be cuddled. I don't have many cuddles either. I like being cuddled. You're nice and warm and special. Will you cuddle me some more please."
I grinned at him and stroked his neck. "Ok. But don't blame me if I get carried away. When I cuddle, I really cuddle, and when I've had a couple of drinks, I cuddle really special, so you'd better be prepared to slap my face if I go too far."
Halil chuckled. "Ok. But what happens if I don't slap your face?"
I pulled a funny face. "You might go home with a sore bottom."
Now Halil was giggling at my cheeky remark, and I knew that he knew exactly what I meant, and he wasn't the least bit embarrassed when he gave me an impish grin and retorted, "Do you mean you'd like to smack it?"
I downed the rest of the scotch and placed the glass on the table. Then I lifted Halil's head and stared into his eyes. "Dead right I do. Let me get at it."
I pulled Halil over me before he had the chance to resist, and gently smacked his lovely little bottom. He was laughing, and didn't try to stop me. When I was done, I lifted him back up and we grinned at each other. I tweaked his nose. "See. That's what you get for being a cheeky monkey, so be careful or you'll get it again."
Halil's eyes were alight. "You're naughty. You'd better rub it better now." And he curled over on my lap and lifted his legs along the length of the sofa, inviting me to do as he said.
I looked at the small body and the delicious curves that lay beneath the silk, and my hand went to the softness of his buttocks and began to stroke them. Once again the soft fabric helped as my hand and fingers caressed the two globes, and when all pretence of playfulness has left us, I began the serious work of caressing the boy I'd wanted to caress since I first saw him.
Halil was fully compliant as my hands and fingers roamed over his back and small butt and down the back of his thighs, and he parted his legs to give me access to his inner thighs. I was using both hands now, and Halil's head was in my lap. The problem with that was that my cock was as hard as a nail and his head was on it. His right hand was behind my lower back, and the other was resting on the upper part of my thigh, which he began to caress at the same time as his head moved from side to side to do it's job on my swollen cock. He certainly knew what he was doing, and that gave me licence to begin stroking the top of his PJ's up his body, each movement revealing more of the naked flesh beneath it. He helped by lifting himself slightly on each upstroke, so I just took hold of the hem and pulled it up to the top of his back. Now I could actually see the beautiful creature that had fascinated me from day one, and as my searching fingers went lower and began to push his PJ bottoms down, he again lifted himself, and I was able to push them down to his knees. My fingers went into the cleft of his bum, and he pushed back. My middle finger found the small entrance, and he pushed back. The finger went in to the first knuckle, and I waggled it about, but it was difficult to get in further because there was no lubrication. So I took my finger out and spit on it a few times to gather some sort of lube and pushed it back in him. This time, with a little help from Halil, I got it in all the way, and began to play with his insides, and at the same time, I was thinking that I wanted more than my finger in this small boy's hole, and the way Halil was now handling my swollen cock, I knew he wanted more, too. I was in no doubt that he wanted me as much as I wanted him, because his breathing was becoming desperately short. So I decided we had to change position if we were to continue. I took my finger out and lifted Halil up. "Can we take your PJ's off?"
Halil nodded eagerly, and then said, "Take all your clothes off as well."
I didn't need a second invitation, and while Halil was stripping, I almost ripped my own clothes off and threw them on the floor, and then I went to the kitchen to get a tin of Vaseline. I wasn't ashamed of my body. I was quite a fit six-foot-tall forty-five-year-old, and because I'd never been a beer drinker and ate decent food, I was still in good trim. I reckon Halil thought so too, because as soon as we were back together on the sofa, he was sat straddled on my knee and his lips were sucking at my nipples as if he needed a feed. This was amazing. The shy thirteen-year-old who had been almost afraid to talk to me much of the time, was now devouring me as if he hadn't eaten for a month. I didn't mind; his soft mouth exploring my body was driving me nuts. I think I lost it when he slid off me onto the floor and took me in his mouth. The sight of the pretty, beautiful, naked little boy getting so much pleasure from my swollen cock was too much, and I just grabbed his head and fucked his mouth. Whether he wanted my spunk or not, he got it; every last drop that I could spurt into his delicious mouth was consumed as he continued to pound my cock with his hands, and even when it was all over and I lay back exhausted at the effort, he still continued licking it and squeezing every bit he could get from my slit.
Then he looked up and grinned at me. "Was that nice?"
I grinned back at him. "The best I ever had."
"From a boy?"
"From anyone. I never had it from a boy before. You enjoyed that, didn't you?"
Halil came up again and straddled my legs. He kissed me softly on the lips. His eyes were ablaze with lust. "We haven't finished yet, have we?"
I shook my head. "No. I need a drink first. Pour me one, please."
As Halil was pouring a large one from the decanter, I was able to look at his beautiful, light-brown body. He had his back to me and I had to admire the perfection of what he was. He had curves in all the right places, and his butt was like a peach. When he turned back to me, his erect cock was circumcised and he had no pubic hair. Whether that was because it hadn't started growing yet or whether he shaved it as some Muslims did, I wasn't sure, but whatever, his cock was a beauty. I've got eight inches when I'm hard, and I reckoned Halil would match me when he was older. His was about five inches long; slender and curved upward like a banana because he was fully erect, and his engorged knob was a shiny deep pink. A beauty, and below it I could see his ballsac contained two very ripe fruit! He saw me admiring him and asked, "Do you like me?"
My voice was almost hoarse when I said, "You're beautiful."
He grinned when he gave me the glass, which he'd half-filled, and then he opened the Vaseline and rubbed it into his cleft, put the tin down and sat on my knees. I sipped at the Scotch for a while, stroking the cleft of the wonderful butt I'd been looking at. He shifted his position to give me better access, and when my finger was at his hole, it slipped in easily now it was well greased. So there I was with a glass of Scotch in one hand and a finger of the other up his boy hole. That was nice, especially because he had his small head resting in the crook of my neck and his fingers were playing with my semi-flaccid cock. He seemed content while I drank my Scotch. I was content while I was drinking it. While I drank the whisky and we fondled each other, we chatted.
I stopped him mid-sentence. "You can call me Gary when we're alone."
Halil gave me one of his beautiful smiles. "Gary, when did you first like me?"
I thought about his question for a while. "The first time you smiled at me, I think, although then I didn't know I wanted you this way."
"When did you know you wanted me this way?"
I smiled at him. "I was pretty sure after I'd taken you back home the first time we met, but I was absolutely sure when I saw you in your PJ's. I've never thought about boys being sexy before, but you are. Have you ever done this before?"
Halil gave me an impish grin. "Yes."
I gave him an equally impish grin back. "And when did you first know you wanted me this way?"
Those gorgeous eyes bored into my own. "The same time as you did. I could tell that you and I were alike."
"I didn't think we were alike. I've never wanted sex with a boy before. It never even entered my head, and I still don't understand why I'm here on this sofa, naked, with a naked boy in my lap."
He looked puzzled. "Does it bother you?"
I nodded. "Yes. But it's not going to stop me."
Another impish grin. "Stop you what?"
I waggled my finger in his hole. "Being in there. That's if you want to, of course."
Halil nodded, and his eyes gleamed. "Yes, I want you in there. Shall we do it now?"
I grinned and nodded, so Halil got off me and lay on his back on the sofa with his butt on the edge of it and his knees pulled back, and he was fingering his own anus and rubbing his cock at the same time. He removed his finger when I went on my knees on the carpet in front of him and looked at the clean, puckered hole and wondered how the hell my big cock was going to get past that small, tight orifice. Halil seemed to understand my dilemma and pulled his bum cheeks wide, and the puckered anus became a hole. It was obvious I wasn't the first to use him, and it was so inviting that I couldn't wait to get in him. I placed the bulbous head of my cock against the inviting boy pussy, and pushed. It slipped in past the ring, which then plopped over my swollen knob, and I pushed again. Slowly, I pushed and was astonished to see him take every inch of me until my pubic hairs were nestled against his balls. I looked at him to make sure he was OK. He was smiling when he said, "Is it nice to be in a boy, Gary?"
I stared into his eyes. "It's nice to be in you. Has anyone ever told you that you're beautiful? You are you know."
Halil pulled my head down to him and we kissed, and then he pushed me away and his eyes were again ablaze with sexual need when he said, "Do it now, and don't stop until it's all over. Look at me when you're doing it!" He took hold of my hips and began to pull and push me in and out of him; dictating the depth of each stroke. It was fascinating feeling him manipulating me. He did a few movements to take me half out and back again, and then a few where I was completely inside him and I could feel him contracting his tunnel to stimulate me. On a few occasions, he pushed me out almost completely and then pulled me rapidly back in to the full depth. All the while we were doing this he was whimpering in ecstasy at what he was feeling, and I knew he was enjoying this as much as I was, because when I was fucking him, he ejaculated twice on his belly, which I thought was fantastic. He was staring at my face and knew the exact moment when I was coming, and he slammed me into him and vibrated his hips just as I exploded in a fantastic sexual frenzy and pumped all my spunk into the very depths of his boyishness. When it was over, I looked at him, and he had his tongue out and was panting, and I was thinking this boy should have been a girl and not a boy.
When he'd stopped panting, I caressed his face. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"
Halil smiled. "It was brilliant. I've been wondering all day if we would do it."
I grinned. "So have I. For a thirteen-year-old, you're well developed. I couldn't cum that much when I was your age. I wonder what a boy's semen tastes like?"
His eyes were amused. "Try it. You might like it."
I grinned at him, scooped some up on my finger and tasted it. It was sexy just doing it, and because I was still buried deep inside him and Halil was twirling his bum slightly, I felt myself getting hard again. I scooped every bit of his spunk off his belly, and he watched me sucking it off my fingers; nodding every time I did it. I could tell that my actions were sexually arousing to him, because his erect, five-inch cock was pulsating again. I looked into his eyes. "Do you want me to pull out?"
He looked back at me. "Not if you don't. Have you had enough?"
"No. I want to fuck your boy pussy some more yet."
Halil smiled. "You shouldn't swear like that. Boy pussy! Is that what my bum is?"
I tickled him under the chin. "Fuck isn't swearing. It's exactly what I'm doing now. And yes, this tight little hole I'm in is your boy pussy, and it's the most beautiful little boy pussy I've ever been in."
Halil giggled. "It will be. It's the only one you've ever been in!" Then he gave me an impish grin. "You can fuck me again now if you want."
I sniggered. "Naughty boy for swearing."
Halil licked his tongue out at me, and then began the movements again. This time, instead of watching my cock going in and out of him, I watched his lovely face. Halil stared back at me, and I knew this was going to be more than a simple fuck. I had some affection for this small boy, which was growing by the hour, and I wanted to please him, so I took over the manipulating and watched which movements gave him the greatest pleasure. It didn't take me long to work out that his boy prostate was the key, and that it was at its most pleasurable when the bulbous head of my cock was rubbing over it. Halil knew immediately what I was doing, and he smiled at me, and nodded. It didn't take long before I felt his anal passage clamp my cock and a few small drops of his semen escaped from the tiny slit of his. I wondered whether to stop to let him recuperate, but he continued to move his hips, so I carried on. Only when I knew he was approaching his fourth climax did I thrust right into him and batter away at his buttocks to shoot another load of semen into him. Then I drew out and leaned down and kissed him softly on the lips.
He returned the kiss and smiled at me. "Shall we call it a day now?"
I smiled back at him. "Can I do just one more thing? Can I suck your cock for you?"
Halil nodded and dropped his feet to the floor, and let me go down on him. The small cock was only half awake, but when I took it in my mouth and began to play with it, it came alive again. It took about five minutes of sucking and licking before Halil grabbed my head and thrust himself as deep into me as he could, which almost choked me, and he fucked my mouth until the low moans stopped. Only then did I go up and sit beside him and hug him to me and kiss him again. His small arms came round my head and pulled me to him as we kissed. When we were both satiated with what we felt for each other, I picked up his PJ's and slipped them on. Then I turned him towards the door and smacked his bottom. "Off you go now, and sleep well my little Turkish Delight."
Halil turned to me. "You won't tell anybody about this, will you?"
I shook my head and smiled. "Of course not. This is between you and me. Ok? Do you want to do it again some time?"
"In the morning?"
I laughed, and went to him and hugged him. "Not only are you the most beautiful and sexy little man I've ever known, you're also the cheekiest."
Halil grinned. "I'll see you in the morning. Don't be late getting up."
Before I could retort, he was gone, and I heard him use the toilet and bidet before the bed creaked as he got in it. I hoped he wouldn't wake David up.
To be continued...
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