Chris and Nigel

Chapter 10

Home at Last

This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts between the characters in it. Although the characters are teenagers who may be below the age of consent in the country or state where this is read, nothing written here should be taken as approval of, or encouragement for, sexual liaisons between people where such liaisons are either illegal, or objectionable for moral reasons. Although this story does not include safe sex practices, it is everyone's own responsibility to themselves and to each other to engage only in PROTECTED SEX. It is a story. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Nothing represented here is based on any fact known to the author.

The story is copyright 1999 by "It's Only Me from Across the Sea". If you copy the story, please leave the credits, and the web address of present, and also the email address of I'd love to receive feedback.

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I think we dozed. For a while, anyway, just lying there, being there, being together. Hot, sticky. Nigel, first softening inside me, then reviving, and filling me completely, lying face to face, a mixture of lovers and puppies! Sweaty, even uncomfy on the beanbag, and naked as the day we were born. Nigel's scent invaded my nostrils. Clean, yet musty, somehow. It was just wonderful and relaxed. Two boys, deeply in love, safe in each other's company, and showing each other their love. Relaxed, with no pressures, no cares, no worries. Content and complete. Lovers.


He stretched, sleepily. Oh wow, he felt good. Still inside me. "Mmm?"

"I love you, Nigel. I love you." And I wrapped him in my arms, and held him tightly to me. And I felt him stirring, moving gently closer, the further away, starting again to thrust into me. And moaning each time he thrust in, still so smooth and so slick with all we had done before. I was hard as rock myself, suddenly needing him to make me cum as well. "I need you. Desperately."

"I know," he grunted. "This is for you, Chris. It's for you..." And he drove into me, hard, his hands grabbing my cock, working gripping, squeezing, pulling. Urgent, rough, almost animal in his passion. I'd never felt him like this. But I wanted to feel him like it again! I felt every detail of him inside me. Every thrust and every withdrawal, filling me almost from my knees to my waist with unbearable, strong waves of pleasure. Just imagine if the prostate were on the outside! He was losing his breath, keeping his rhythm, crying out with every push, almost screaming, but muffling it, bringing me up to a huge high plateau, and finally, with a huge thrust, squeezing me into the most shattering orgasm. I yelled with each pulse, and I kept yelling as he kept driving into me, once, twice...more...

"Oh. Oh shit. Oh. Yes. Now! No!! Yes!!" I was incoherent. And he came, arching his back, eyes tight shut, mouth open, arms straight. And fell onto me in a heap. Both breathless. Both exhausted. In the exquisite agonies of sex. Healing each other, and loving each other. And holding each other. I felt he had ripped me open, not bodily, but emotionally. And bodily, in a way. It was so intense, so.... So right there on my bedroom floor, on my beanbag, with my lover, with the beautiful boy who had seduced me so simply, and so completely.

"Better now?" he asked, smiling at me.

"Oh yes. Much better. I can't move! I'm not sure I'll ever walk again!"

"I think we need a shower."

"We don't have a shower."

"Hmm. A bath?"

"Yes. A bath. A bath with you would be lovely. All soapy and smooth, with you. Mmm. Yum!"

"You couldn't? I couldn't. Not yet!" Nigel looked horrified! "You'll wear it out!"

"Actually, what I had in mind was a bath, and then some pizza, if they're open. Bet the driver has a Nissan Bluebird!"

"How much do you bet?"

"Not money - a forfeit," I said. "If it's a Bluebird, I'll choose what you have to do. And if it's something else, the you can choose something for me!"

"You're on!"

It was just dreamy. I looked at the clock - it was still only 3 o'clock. Plenty of time. When we finally levered ourselves upright, off the beanbag, and headed for the bathroom, we were still fizzing gently, yet so relaxed. No hurry, no-one to care, no-one to see, just no-one except us. Wonderful. Just wonderful. As I put the bathplug in and turned the taps on, I felt Nigel stroking my body. Softly, with love. And I turned round to him, and looked him in the eyes. It is real." I whispered to him. "You're real. This is real. Oh Nigel!" And I took his face between my hands, and kissed him on the nose.

He giggled. "The water, idiot! Put some cold in, too!" And as I did so he kissed my back. "Chris, I feel as though I'm dreaming. Don't pinch me, I don't want to wake up," he murmured, barely audible over the water's noise. "I feel like we're a couple, you know, for ever. Or I want to be."

"I've never felt like this either. I love you. And now I'm going to wash you. Get in." I took shampoo, and washed his hair, sweaty now, soon to be bright and clean, and rinsed it clear from suds. And took the soap, lathered it in my hands, and, inviting him to stand up, soaped him from top to toe. Not erotic on purpose, but erotic for sure. It took all my willpower just to wash him without taking him into my mouth. "You are so beautiful," I kept murmuring to him as I soaped him down, as I massaged his shoulders, his arms, his thighs, as I soaped between his thighs, round his boyhood, and down his legs to his ankles. "Sit so that I can was your feet." It was just heavenly washing him, studying every part of him, massaging him.

"Your turn. In you get."

"You have to get out first, there isn't room!"

"Well, OK" And we swapped places.

Then I found out just how it felt to be washed by the boy who loved me. He repaid all my attentions, almost as I had washed him. First the hair, and then my shoulders, arms, body, neck, chest. Soft, slippery hands. Not tickling, not pressing, but stroking, so firmly, almost like worship. And I knew why he had become excited again. It was so exquisitely thrilling to have him in complete control, and just submitting to him, being washed, soaped, massaged. And then to be dried, and to dry him in return where he was still wet. And, as we dried each other, the towels together with all the sensations of the bath made, well, the inevitable happen.

"I like that bit best," he said, kneeling down in front of me. And he dried it very carefully with a small section of towel. The sensation was unbelievable, especially after the pounding he'd given me before. "Lie down."

"Not in here." And I led him back to my room.

"Now, please lie down, Chris." And I let him lie be down, and watched him put his lips on the very tip of my cock, and so slowly moved them open and down over the head, withdrawing my foreskin as he went. "You're going to fuck me. Or I'm going to fuck me, rather," he said, between strokes, "just as soon as I get this implement slippery again!"

"There's some baby lotion an stuff in the bathroom."

"Ahh." And he was back before he'd gone, bringing a bottle of something with him, which he opened and smoothed some of the contents onto me."


"It's going somewhere warm soon, now be quiet and get ready to squeal!" And he moved on top of me, astride me, moving his body over mine, aiming the tip of my cock at his crack, and squished down, just pressure at first, then "Ahhhh!," as he opened to receive me.

"And I chorused him "Ahhhh!" as the sensation came to me. Hot, gripping, searing heat, tight band of love. And I watched his face, first contorted as he struggled to relax, and then open and smiling, then glorious as he rode me, squeezing me into that secret spot, squealing each time he hit it with my shaft, with the tip. He wouldn't let me touch him, just rode me until he was exhausted, face in ecstasy and agony at the same time.

"Oh Chris...." he gasped "Make me cum. I can't do it. Make me cum. Chris! Now! Please? Please....." And the sweat was dripping off him, and a pool of precum splashes was forming on my stomach, running into my navel."

I looked into his eyes, tightened into slits with his efforts. I didn't want him anywhere else, I was so near myself. So I touched his cock, wilting from the effort, and it started to revive, and then throb, and his eyes relaxed and closed softly, then opened wide as he yelled, yelled something, clamped his muscles hard on my cock, and came so hard he covered my face with the first shot. It set me off, too, deep inside him, and we collapsed, Nigel on top of me, kissing away his cum, kissing me between heavy breaths. "I love you so much, Chris," he kept panting at me. "So much."

It was amazing. Just us. Together. With no-one to interrupt us. No-one to come in and surprise us. Just me and him. Him and me. Just being with him was astounding. Being with him, and in love with him, and naked, touching him. Oh. I felt like we needed another bath, and subsided into that odd dream state just thinking about him. And awoke wondering what a goldfish was doing driving a train. Not just any train, but.... Eh? Well, I get strange dreams sometimes.

"I'm hungry." No answer. "Nigel, I'm hungry." No answer. So I kissed him. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Mmph." He was trying to answer from underneath a kiss. "Geroff! Yes, hungry."



"Or Chinese?"


So which?"

"Which what?"

"Pizza or Chinese?"

"Toss for it?"

"I can't. Not again!"

"Chris, you are an idiot sometimes. A coin. Toss a coin."

"Where would I keep a coin? You don't get pockets in this skin stuff!"

"Oh Pizza then!" And he was smiling up at me, lying there in my room, all pink, and soft and warm.

After we'd chosen what we wanted, and I'd ordered the pizzas, plus garlic bread, and settled down, this time on the sofa in front of the TV, the phone rang.

"Don't answer it!" Chris was curled up in my arms.

"It might be Dad. I have to."

"632 3576."

"Chris?" voice in the other end. "Is that you, Chris?"


"It's me," said the voice.

"Hello, Me."

"Me, Carol!"

I didn't want to talk to Carol today. I didn't want to. "Oh yeah. Hi"

"You OK, Chris?" She wanted to know if I was OK.

"Yeah, why?"

"I wanted to come round and see you."

I put my hand over the mouthpiece "It's Carol. She wants to come round and see me." I stage whispered this to Nigel.

"you can't stop her, I suppose?" he whispered back.

"Chris, are you still there?" just today I wished I'd left the answerphone on and let it take the call.

"I'm here."


"Well what?"

"You sound, well, odd! Look I'll see you in half an hour." And she rang off without giving me a chance to say anything.

"She's coming here in half an hour."


"I couldn't stop her."


"She rang off before I could speak."



"Yeah. 'O' 'H'. Oh. Fucking OH! Oh fuck! OH, OH, OH, OH!"

"I know. This was, this is our day. Or our afternoon, at least."

"OK, you can't stop her. I just didn't want to face her, face all that this afternoon." Nigel looked crestfallen. "I mean I know she knows and there was the other night, was it yesterday, I've forgotten? But, er, Chris?"

"My sweet boy, yes?"

"I don't think I want, er I don't think I can, oh I can't quite face her."

"And I don't want you to go, and I don't think you should hide, and I don't know how to stop her."

"I tried, Chris. For you, I mean. I tried to think of her as you, Chris. Your body, your face, your strength. When we all...."

"Shh. I know you did. Now. I was a bit, er, oh I don't know what I was, then."

"I'm scared, Chris. Of losing you, I mean. Of handing you back to Carol. She had first claim on you, Chris. First claim. I just came and grabbed you from her, pulled you away, and I don't have any right to ask you to be mine. I don't."

"Shut up. NOW!" I surprised myself. I shouted at him. I didn't mean to. He crumpled. "No, that's not what I meant. No. Stop."

He was pulling his clothes on, crying hot tears. "I should never have... I wish I hadn't....."

"Nigel! Don't!"

"You need her.... It's better this way..... An afternoon of sex with me, and stop NOW."

"No! No. No. No. No. No. No! NO!"

"I'm gay, Chris. I'm sure I'm gay. I don't love girls. I can't love girls. You can, Chris. You need them. I'll only be a shag for you. Only a shag." He'd finished dressing, and ran to the door and down the path, leaving me standing there watching my blood drain away. Feeling myself dying on the doorstep. Dying inside. On the doorstep with no clothes on. Not a stitch.

I couldn't even run after him. Not naked. I turned round and shut the door. And started to get dressed. No idea what to do. And the doorbell rang. Nigel? I ran downstairs.

Not Nigel.


Followed by a pizza delivery man getting out of a Nissan Bluebird. 'I can choose the forfeit,' I thought, as I let Carol in. As I burst into tears. 'I can choose the forfeit.'