We unpacked and set about making ourselves comfortable for the week together. As Gareth unpacked I noticed he had brought the four boxes of condoms with him. I was relieved. If I had any apprehensions about him killing me I knew that I had a good chance of seeing it to the end of the week with a supply of four-dozen condoms. When everything was unpacked Gareth suggested that we go for a drink in the local pub.

"Great idea!" I said, "but I need to shower first!"

"Me too! Want to shower together?"

All my birthdays had come together, the shy gentle giant was inviting me to stand in a shower cubicle with him and the weeks of waiting were paying off at last. I could feel my arse twitching with anticipation. Would Gareth fuck me in the shower?

He followed me into the small bathroom. Slowly I began to remove my trousers first. As I bent over his strong hand cupped my arse.

"I'm looking forward to drilling this tonight!" he said.

"So am I!" I answered as I lowered my boxers.

"You've got a hairy butt!" he remarked.

"Do you like that?"

"I suppose so, after all it's your arse and I like that!"

Slowly he began to peel off his clothes. I watched, after all, this was going to be my first time to see him in the buff. He opened his shirt revealing a taut chest with nicely developed musculature from his work in the warehouse. He had a light dusting of short black hair between his square pectorals. As he removed the shirt completely I noticed the veins were prominent the whole length of his arms. I shyly removed my own shirt. I have a heavy bush of light brown hair swirling over my chest. I also have a bit of a gut from years in the bars.

"Yeuch and double yeuch!" he exclaimed.

I blushed, "is something the matter?"

"You're like a fucking monkey with all that hair!" he exclaimed, "and you could do with a few trips to the gym!"

"Most blokes say fluffy and cuddly!" I protested.

"I'm not most blokes!" he replied as he turned away and opened his trousers. As he lowered his jeans and boxers together the sight of his manly arse brought my dick to life. It began to slowly swell as I took in the sight of two smooth round mounds of arseflesh tapering down in a strong narrowing line of sinew to the back of his knees. I stared open-mouthed at him as he bent down to release his left foot. The tight valley only spread a little as his left leg rose a few inches from the ground. I hoped to see his hole but that eluded me. I also noted that his skin was perfect, like a model's. There wasn't a blemish on the mounds before me like you'll find on most blokes' behinds.

"One way or the other the belly has to go!" he stated as he stood and then bent again to release his right foot.

I was offended by this. Yes I have a bit of a paunch but I'm not fat. Gareth stood straight and stretched. My offence faded immediately. Before me stood a perfect V torso, the sexiest butt in the universe and the model of natural musculature. He turned and faced me with a smile. Thick black hair, dark eyes, straight nose, white smile, strong jaw, square shoulders, flat stomach, straight hip, neat bush – oh my god! – did this guy have any physical defects? I have always believed that a top should be better endowed than a bottom, it's almost like a religious belief that God gave us our dicks like measuring sticks for who is the dominant male in the pack. If my beliefs were true then Gareth might have led several packs! If Michelangelo had been a size-queen he might have carved Gareth's cock on David. Up to that moment James' has always been my favourite cock, James would now take second place. Gareth's wasn't longer than James' eight inches but it was a bit thicker. In fact it was a good bit thicker. Unlike James' it was perfectly smooth and while James' foreskin hung down over the glans, Gareth's was as if made by the best tailors in Saville Row!

"Keep your eyes off it chops it's time to clean ourselves up a bit!"

"Chops?" I screeched indignantly, "Supposing I can't lose this what would you do then?"

"I suppose I'd have to develop and accelerated work-out programme for you!" he said as he guided me into the small shower cubicle.

"Does that mean you'd whack my arse until I was thin?" I asked cheekily.

"No!" he replied as he pulled the cubicle door tightly, "it means I'd make you do 1000 a session until you were trim again!"

"And if I couldn't do it?"

"Then I suppose I'd have to use some motivations!"

"Such as?"

"An accelerated learning programme!" he laughed as he reached around and tweaked my arse.

The next five minutes were an ecstasy as he stood behind me and rubbed his soapy hands all over my upper body as the water cascaded over us. I reached behind but could only massage his arse and flanks. He pulled me closer. I couldn't see but I certainly could feel his hard shaft lying against the small of my back and his balls prodding against the top of my arse. He began to stroke my dick.

"You've got a real little-boy dick!" he remarked, "but I like it that way, it shows who is the daddy in this relationship!"

Now in my defence I would like to state that I have slightly bigger than six inches. If I get very excited it can stretch bigger, but that doesn't happen very often. (I know a lot of blokes think that they are hung like horses and boast of ten inches and so on – I've had more cocks than an industrial chicken farm over the last few years, I advise these people to read the inches rather than the centimetres!) Gareth was one of those blokes whose dong hung well when soft, I wondered what he would look like after a swim in the North Sea! Size wasn't going to be the issue here anyway. Gareth respected my masculinity, a lot of previous people had called me bitch and cunt or other female names before. Suddenly that bothered me. Gareth was the daddy and I was the boy! I was male! Had I just learned lesson number two? I was realising that being a bottom doesn't make a bloke a fem. There was nothing effeminate about me ever.

"What are you thinking about now?" he asked as he kissed my next and reached over to turn off the water.

"I think you've just taught me something else!" I answered.

"What's that?"

He backed out of the shower and I turned to get my first sight of his erection. We both smiled! "I was thinking…" I began, "for years I have enjoyed being a bottom. But being with you I feel quite masculine, maybe I'm learning that being a bloke that gets off on having a dick sliding in and out of his arse doesn't make a chap less of a bloke than the bloke that's ploughing him!"

"That's quite right," he said as he towelled his shaggy hair dry, "in fact Mark I could never think of you as a girl!"

"What would you know about that?" I asked.

"Quite a lot! But I'll tell you all about it in the pub. Now get the electric razor from my kit and shave that chest of yours, I think you'd look tidier without that wig!"

My chest hair was a feature that I was fond of. Maybe it was just because it was such a male thing and maybe because I liked playing with it. One way or the other Gareth wanted it gone. Tonight was to be our first night together, it wasn't a difficult decision to make. I would be no less male without my chest hair, if Gareth wanted it gone then Gareth would have it gone.

When I returned Gareth was standing with a towel around his waist shaving. I stood in the shower and used the trimmer on the electric shaver to remove most of my hair in one go. As I ploughed a furrow over my chest I thought it looked quite sexy. By the time I had it all down to stubble Gareth was standing at the door of the shower cubicle. He was carrying a can of shaving foam and a razor. He reached behind me and turned on the tap. Then, removing his towel he stood naked in front of me.

"I'd like to finish this off for you!" he said as he closed the water off and sprayed my chest with the creamy foam. "You said that you wanted to be more like me mate," he said as he rubbed the foam into my chest and belly, "so that means that if daddy hasn't a hairy chest and his boy wants to be like him then logically the boy cannot have a hairy chest!"

I stared mesmerised at him. I was three years older than him but this man was calling me his boy and I felt a touch of humiliation in allowing another person remove my chest hair. But Gareth obviously preferred smooth men, so losing the bush off my chest wasn't going to be a problem. Maybe body hair grossed him out, it does that to some people. Gareth didn't like it so if it made him like me better then the hair could go and even stay gone.

I felt nervous as he shaved me. I think any bloke should be a bit apprehensive when somebody else is scraping a blade across his body. But Gareth was very careful, especially when he shaved around my nipples. The blade was clean fresh and sharp, he never cut a nick in my skin! When he was finished he told me to rinse off and left the bathroom.

I rinsed and left the shower. After drying myself with the towel he had left behind him on the floor I followed him into the bedroom. He was wearing paisley boxers and splashing Paco Rabanne on his face. The smell was wonderful.

"Can I have some of your aftershave?" I asked.

"No way mate!" he replied, "if we went to the pub smelling the same people would think we was two fairies…"

"… and you hate being thought of as a fairy!"

"That's right!" he said, "here mate use this!"

He threw me a bottle of Lynx aftershave. I looked at it in disgust. If you go to any place in England where there are teenage boys in Nike or Adidas clothes you will be knocked out by the smell of the Lynx range.

"I'm too old for this!" I protested.

"Take it or leave it mate!" he shrugged, "sorry I've nothing else with me."

"What are you doing with Lynx anyway?"

"It's probably belonging to Roy!"

"And Roy is…?"

"Roy's my thirteen year old brother."

"And what's it doing in your toilet bag?"

"He probably left it there as a present for me. He knows I like the smell of the Africa one. Look mate if you don't want it just chuck it back!"

"It's okay, I'll use it. The smell isn't that bad!"

I splashed a small amount onto my hand and quickly dabbed it on my chest. It stung a bit. The smell was awful. I had visions of me going out smelling as if I should be in a baseball cap, polo shirt and tracksuit bottoms. If there were any young girls in the pub they would be surprised to turn and find no suitable wearer of the young scent.

Gareth threw me a pair of matching paisley boxers. I laughed and put them on.


"I smell like a spotty, horny teenager!" I protested.

He crossed the room, took me in his arms and took a deep whiff.

"Bullshit!" he cried, "you smell wonderful enough to eat!" and he landed on my neck and began to bite at me.

"I think I smell like a sixteen year old!"

"You don't!" he muttered into my neck, "I love the smell of Lynx Africa, there's nothing teenage about it. You just have some hang up about it!"

Well, if Gareth prefers a smooth chest I will have one for him. If Gareth prefers the smell of Lynx Africa then I will wear it for him… anything for this man!

"Come on mate," a slap landed on my arse, "let's hit the pub!"

As we walked along the dark laneway that led from the house to the road I asked him what was he going to tell me about his experience with girls.

"I suppose I'd better come clean," he said, "I don't know if you'll understand this but I think I should tell you before our relationship becomes physical."

"Go on, I'll try!"

"When I as sixteen I was going with this girl called Susan. I don't want to tell you her surname just yet but I will in time. Susan and I had a relationship that lasted almost four years. We only lived together for the last one. We had two children together, both boys. Dean is almost six and Gavin is three."

"So you're a real daddy then?"

"They're two great lads but I don't get to see them except on Wednesday evening and Sunday afternoon. Twice a year I'm allowed have them for a week!"

"That must be tough on you!" I remarked.

"It is, but leave the boys out of it for the moment! Susan was a … what am I saying was a? … Susan IS a very violent and manipulative person. When we weren't living together things were great, but a month after moving in – we were only twenty at the time she went psycho!"

"Post natal depression?" I asked politely.

"No … well maybe … more a case of post-natal abuse everybody! Every evening when I came home she would be in bed with some bloke, the baby would be crying and Dean would be watching over the bars of the cot. I would take the boys and go over to her mother's with them. Her mother was great but I could never tell her what Susan was doing. I used to tell her that Susan had to visit a friend in hospital or something."

"That sounds rough!

"It gets worse! When I'd get back with the children she'd blame me for upsetting them. She's fly at me and scratch me or throw things at me or hit me with brushes. Whatever came to her mind. But every night she wanted to sit on my dick and have sex as if nothing happened."

"That's why you don't want a relationship with somebody who wants your dick but doesn't want you!"


"And that's why you say you took enough physical abuse!"

"Right again. Then one day when I came back there was a policeman and a social worker in the flat. She claimed that I kidnapped the children and was abusive. She got a court order against me and almost exclusive custody of the boys."

"That was a bit rough!"

"Tell me about it! Her mother lied in court and only her brother was any support to me from her side. Jimmy, that's her brother, is homosexual. After the break-up he was very supportive. He played a double act and he's allowed to supervise my visits and trips with the lads. At the same time he tells them at home that he doesn't like me."

"And Jimmy leaves you alone with them?"

We reached the pub.

"Yes and no. Susan always asks the boys was their Uncle Jimmy there, they love him and if he wasn't there they'd say it. I don't mind at all, I like Jimmy in fact I think he's into me!"

"You're so fucking vain mate!" I said.

Gareth smiled. "It was Jimmy who taught me that homosexuals aren't bad. I began to wish that I had taken up with him rather than with his sister in the beginning. I said this to him one evening and he laughed."

"What's he like?"

"Jimmy is great. Good looking intelligent but like me he's into taking the initiative."

"You're both what we call tops then!"

"Whatever! Jimmy suggested that I get a boyfriend but I told him that I would rather be with him. He explained that it would be unwise as we were both initiators and it would probably jeopardise my contact with the boys."

"That would be obvious!" I added.

"Anyway I told him I didn't want to get involved with anybody again so he told me that the gay world was much less formalised than the heterosexual one is!"

"What did he mean by that?"

"He said that there were more options open there and that I could easily find somebody who was willing to be relate to me on my terms."

"That's a bit strange isn't it?"

"I don't know! You're the first gay bloke I've met apart from Jimmy and you are so different from him. He wouldn't let me dictate the pace the way you do, that's why I said you'd never be a girl. No female would ever let a bloke have this much control!"

I blushed a lot at that last comment. Gareth immediately sensed my discomfort and reached over to touch my hand. "Is something the matter?" he asked gently.

"Is this all about what you want? Is a relationship not something between two people?" I asked.

"Of course it is! But you've benefited from me being in control already!"

"You're a real control freak aren't you?"

"Yes!" he replied simply.

I was stunned by the frank honesty of his reply. Here we were, two young men, me a twenty-six year old party queen and recovering cock-slut and he a twenty three year old father of two experimenting with homosexuality because he felt it was the best place to develop his ego. I thought at this stage that the affair was going to end sooner rather than later.

"You've gained self-respect, strengthened your masculinity and defended your privacy since you met me and did things my way," he said, "now how is that not you gaining something valuable from this relationship?"

"But I've surrendered my freedom!"

"So have I!"

Before I had a chance to pour cynical comments in his direction he belched.

"Excuse me!" he said covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You're gross!" I jeered.

"It's not my fault it was that fucking chicken curry!" he defended himself and then belched again.

The mixture of beer on top of the dodgy curry was having a gaseous effect on poor Gareth. He began to belch quietly. I pretended that I was disgusted. I kept at him in the pub about his belching. He asked me to stop but I kept teasing him.

"I think it's you that needs an accelerated learning course in etiquette!" I quipped.

"One more jibe from you and I'll certainly give you one in respect!" he countered.

"You and whose army?" I laughed.

He fingered the buckle of his belt and tapped it slowly – "There's my army! Don't push it further Mark!"

But, the beer had given me courage and a loose tongue and I kept at him. Eventually he downed his pint and told me we were going to go. Knowing that my reward for those weeks of patience depended on my response I followed quickly. As we walked back to the house in the dark he seemed actually annoyed. He didn't say anything until we were almost there.

At the gate he said, "Why did you have to go on like that? You went on and on and it really pissed me off! We're supposed to be here for a good time together and you had to push the limits didn't you?"

"I'm sorry Gareth!" I bowed my head afraid that I had ruined everything, "I'll do anything to make it up to you!"


"Because I love you and I want to be with you! Is there anything I can do to make it up?"

"Yes! There is. But I'll tell you later!"

He didn't say anything else. We arrived back to the house, it was late so we went to the bedroom and we both took off our jeans in preparation for getting into bed, he seemed to have calmed down. I started to get into bed looking forward to a good hard shagging, but he touched my arm.

"Don't get into bed just yet".