Alex's Grandpa

His smile was gorgeous. He looked straight at me through all the crowd of shoppers and smiled again. Then he almost skipped over and sat down beside me.

"Are you interested in soccer?" he asked, and not waiting for my answer, continued," did you play when you were a boy?"

I nodded my head and then answered, "Yes, and that covers both of your questions young man."

Again I saw him smile and he looked at me with a face that was both young and impish but also sad and hopeful.

"I'm playing at Mansell Field on Saturday. Would you come and watch me play?" he inquired.

I thought for a moment and then, remembering that I had promised one of my friends to assist him with his furniture restoration project, replied, "I will have to sort out what I am doing. But, yes, if I can make it I would like to watch you play. What time is your game?"

"We start at 9.30 mostly," was a ringing tone of reply.

I looked at him again and all I could see was the beauty that is in all young early teen boys. His body glowed for me and I was starting to mentally undress him, wondering if his cock had started to develop and if his chest and pectorals were building up.

"I will try and be there. Nine thirty you said."

He looked at me with a little boy smile.

"Gotta go now. That's my mum over there," he said pointing out a very scruffy looking woman in her mid thirties. Her hair was long and untidy and her dress did absolutely nothing for any feminine form. Her shoes were flat-heeled scuffs that had never been cleaned in their lives.

My new friend skipped away, turning to wave to me, again with that infectious smile. My cock twitched and then suddenly rose to its full hardness. I knew I would be at that soccer match on Saturday. To hell with Steven's furniture.


I was a little late when I finally parked my Jaguar XJS at the Mansell Field. There were boys running around everywhere, with doting fathers and mothers and older friends. I hadn't realised there were three soccer fields in the sporting complex, but eventually I found the field with the under 14s playing. I tried to pick out my young new friend but almost gave up.

Then I saw him. Well I felt it was him, but from the distance and with my aged eyes I wasn't at all sure.

The game moved back and forth with no team gaining any advantage let alone scoring a goal. Then the referee blew his whistle to signal half time, and I moved down from where I was watching to near the field gate so I could at least get a better look at my "boy".

As the scruffy bunch of young ones, and some were particularly impressive to my mind, sauntered off the field showing little enthusiasm, I was suddenly engulfed in this vision of a very excited young boy.

"You came. You came," he almost shouted, and rushed up and hugged me.

He looked up at my face and I could see small drops of moisture welling up in the corners of his eyes.

"Yes. Now join your team mates and listen to what you coach tells you."

He squeezed me in the most passionate way I could remember, and then as his coach walked slowly past, he dropped his embrace and joined the team in the room under the small brick grandstand.

I waited in the same spot, despite the chill wind, until the players came out for the second half. My boy turned and smiled at me as he skipped onto the field.

There was a different feeling about that second part of the game. My boy entered into the play with vigour and after a particularly torrid thrusting set of play, kicked hard and sent the ball rapidly into the net. The team cheered and huddled into and excited bunch. I smiling face beamed across the field towards me. I waved back.

The opposition was crest fallen. The game recommenced, and I watch as my boy jumped and drove forward each time he managed to get onto the ball.

Again the situation opened up for his team to attack, and there just in the dying minutes of the half my boy drove the ball hard onto the back of a disorientated opposition player, saw the rebound and fired the sphere of leather into the net.

He jumped for joy looking across at me as he did so. I was excited for him and waved heartily as the referee blew his whistle to signal the end of the game.

He rushed off the field straight into my body. He hugged me and I could feel him pumping his body against me. It was almost as if he was sobbing.

The other team members came by and dragged him away from my arms, into the change room. Minutes later, clutching his backpack, he raced out to be with me again. He grabbed my hand and squeezed.

"Wasn't that great," he inquired as he beamed that angelic face up to me. I was almost in tears at this little boy's obvious delight.

"We won, and that's our first win this season."

"Alex. Alex." I heard a low shout behind us. I turned and it was the team coach.

"Alex, you left your boots back there."

My boy Alex let go of my hand, turned and with a muffled 'shit' he raced back into the change room.

The coach approached me.

"You're his grandpa, he tells me. Thank you for coming. Your presence made all the difference to Alex's game. He has the skill but has lacked the drive. Tell his parents to come next week. He longs for them to watch him play."

He shook my hand with a sincerity that is lacking mostly today.

Alex, forgotten boots swinging from his hand, raced back to join me, as the coach patted his head as he passed.

"Would you like a warm drink?" I asked.

"Oh yes please. Could I have a hot chocolate?" with smiling questioning eyes.

"Of course. Where should we go?"


The shopping mall was starting to crowd up with rushing shoppers. Alex selected a cheap food booth in amongst the myriad of operations in the food hall.

He looked up at me and my face must have transmitted my thoughts.

"No. You don't like that one?"

"It's ok if that's were you want to eat," I answered softly.

"It's the cheapest place, so mum says," was a not quite so enthusiastic answer.

I grabbed his little hand and steered him over to a much nicer place with table service.

A good-looking young teen about 16 came for our order. He looked at me and then at Alex. I could read his mind. 'Rich grandpa dotting on stupid grandson.'

I spoke first.

"Alex will have a big hot chocolate, and I would like an espresso coffee, thank you.

Now Alex, what else would you like? How about some pikelets and jam and cream?"

"Oh yes please," came and enthusiastic babble. "I'm starving."

"Can I have some cinnamon toast please?" and I smiled up at the nice waiter. He smiled a cynical smile back.

Alex and I had an animated conversation covering many topics as he devoured his food. I found out that he had a little sister who was five, and that his father worked in the building industry. Also they never showed any interest in him at all. His father always bet on the horses and football at weekends. His mother was too busy caring for his sister, and they had an elderly grandma living with them.

"She stinks," he told me. "She pisses herself and sometimes even shits in her bed.' He didn't have much affection for the old dear.

As we walked back to the Jaguar, I was happier than I had been in ages. I had a lovely looking young boy holding my hand and skipping alone with me. I was floating.

Back in the car, Alex was impressed.

"Where do you live?" he inquired.

I explained to him that I had a small house with a nice garden not far from the Mall.

"Can I see it?" he asked.

We drove over and I parked outside the double garage.

"Do you have two cars?"

"Yes. I also have a little old Alfa Romeo."

"That's neat. Can I see it?"

Alex skipped into the garage and rubbed his hands all over the little red Italian car.

Then we went inside. I asked him if he wanted another drink and he said he could go another hot chocolate if I had the stuff to make it.

I looked at him and wrinkled up my nose.

"I need to clean up, don't I," he replied to the unsaid question.

"Can I have a shower?"

I told him that I didn't have a shower that worked, but he could have a bath. He jumped at that opportunity explaining that they didn't have a bath as his father had taken it out some years ago to put a laundry in the bathroom.

We went down the hall to the bathroom and I started to run the water mixing the hot water with some cold.

I turned around and there was my little scamp stark naked. His dirty knees and lower legs contrasting with his clear white upper body. His chest was just starting to show signs of development, with his little nipples pointing out.

My eyes dropped to his cock and there it was standing straight up against his hairless tummy, that is except for about ten straight dark pubic hairs just atop his cock base. His little hairless balls were tight up against crotch. His cock twitched as I looked at it.

"It's like that all the time now. I'm starting to grow. Not as big as Peter in the team. He's got more hairs, and his is longer. We measured them last week.

He even cums."

I smiled as I remembered my own sexual awakening years. The story was the same. I calculated that his cock was about four inches and surprisingly I was sure it was circumcised. It was about average thickness but the head was a lot bigger than the shaft.

He stepped into the bath and slipped down.

"Would you wash my hair?"

I got the good shampoo and pulled up my jumper sleeves and started to massage the soapy foam into his short dark curls. He sat there in complete satisfaction. I looked at his cock and it pulsed and twitched as his body moved with my hands running through his hair. A large blob of foam dropped onto his cock.

I suggested that he gets on all fours and dip his head in the water to rinse it off. His lovely little bums presented themselves to me and I noticed that his arse hole pulsed open and closed. It was larger than I would have expected, and still a delicate pink.

He now sat back up and then rolled over onto his stomach.

"Wash my back?"

I soaped up the fluffy face cloth and caressingly rubbed it over his clear whit back. Then I allowed my hand to wonder down over his bum and along his legs. I then travelled back up across his bum and along his crack, paying attention to his hole.

I rinsed him off and he turned over his cock now appeared to be larger and still very stiff. I washed his front and after doing his legs and arms went for his cock. He sighed as I gently rubbed soap over it and then masturbated it a few strokes.

"It's ok. I don't shoot cum yet. Peter does and boy does it fly out. Goes everywhere."

I rinsed him off and then let the water out to indicate it was time to dry off. I towelled his little body paying attention to between his toes, his crack and his cock and balls.

"You missed under my arms," he announced.

I did them too.

He put on his track pants. No underwear at all and his cock tented out the maroon fabric. Then his clean T-shirt from his bag and his matching maroon jacket with his team's name on it.

We had more hot chocolate and biscuits before I drove him home.

He kissed me before he got out of the Jaguar.

"Will you come next Saturday?"

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for anything."

I kissed him back.

This story is true. It is a reflection upon the homophobic biddies who say that it is the adults who prey on 'their' innocent children.

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