Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year
A BOY ISN'T JUST FOR CHRISTMAS
his story contains scenes of a sexual nature involving an adult male and a boy under the age of eighteen. The characters and events portrayed are totally fictional and any similarities to genuine people or events are entirely coincidental.
A NEW YEAR'S MESSAGE
t this time of year it is traditional to make resolutions; we promise ourselves that we'll do something in the coming year that we've always intended to do but haven't got around to. If you are a regular Nifty reader, then I'm sure that you care about this site and would miss it if it ceased to exist; something that could happen all too easily if readers continually download stories without making any contribution to its running costs. Why don't you make a donation to Nifty one of your New Year's resolutions for 2018; trust me, it'll make you feel good about yourself and give you a nice warm glow inside. Please go to http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html and pass on a little of that New Year's optimism.
hristmas morning saw Ben awaken before me for the first time and he had no intention of allowing me to sleep in; a vigorous shoulder shaking was followed by a kiss and a brief, "Merry Christmas" before he dived into the bathroom. I managed to doze off again but as soon as Ben re-emerged he was pestering me to get up and ready.
"What's the rush?" I asked, before looking at the time and groaning when I realised that it wasn't even seven yet.
"We're not allowed to open any presents until everyone's there so you've got to get up."
"Go and wake your brother then," I told him, thinking that he'd get short shrift there. Then I turned over and tried to go back to sleep.
"I will but only when you're in the bathroom," the persistent boy replied, shaking me by the shoulder once more.
"OK, OK," I surrendered to the inevitable and climbed out of bed. I looked at the couch and smiled, at least I didn't have to transform it back from a bed this morning.
When I arrived in the kitchen for breakfast I found that the boy had kept his word and, with a little help from his sister, had roused the entire house before setting off to his maternal grandparents' cottage to make sure that they were up and about as well. They knew their grandson well enough to be ready and expecting him and, by the time the three of them arrived at the main house, the rest of us had finished breakfast and were waiting for them.
We'd all placed our gifts at the foot of the tree the previous evening and Ben, being the youngest, was put in charge of passing them out to the recipients. Although they were wealthy, the Rogers' family didn't go in for large, extravagant presents for the adults; smaller, more thoughtful gifts seemed to be the order of the day, although that didn't extend to the youngsters with Ben and Monica doing rather better than their elders. Ben is a very tactile boy and hugged and kissed each of his relatives when he received a gift from them, even his brother I was a little surprised to see. When he opened mine I hoped he would remember what I'd said about displays of affection in front of Brian but he was so obviously delighted to get the FIFA 18 game that he completely forgot and gave me a big hug and a smacker on the lips. I blushed and noticed that Mike had another big grin on his face; the rest of the family didn't seem bothered but, when I glanced over at Brian, he gave me a very odd look.
Once the gift giving was over we all went our separate ways for a while, the four eldest to church, the two youngest to their rooms to start enjoying their presents and Jane to the kitchen to begin preparations for lunch; Mike, Brian and I went to Mike's room leaving the living room to his dad, Tommy and Imelda.
"Hey Mike, what's with Ben, is he gay?" Brian asked once we'd sat down. "He certainly acts like he is."
"Yeah, he's gay," Mike replied, "I hope that's not a problem."
"Not at all but he seems to have the hots for our Chris."
"It just shows he's got good taste," Mike replied, "Chris is a good looking guy."
"I suppose so but let's be honest, Ben's kinda cute too," Brian responded, "If I was in your place Chris, I think I'd take advantage of the situation; a nice tight hole has to beat a wank any day of the week, even if it is a young boy's. No offence Mike, I know he's your little brother."
"None taken," Mike replied laughing, "but I don't think Chris needs your advice. If the satisfied look on Ben's face and the careful way he sat down this morning are anything to go by, Chris has already taken advantage of the situation."
"What? No way!" Brian exclaimed. Then, seeing the colour of my burning cheeks and realising that it was true, he continued, "You lucky bastard, I'm the one who shags anything with a pulse and I get stuck with Liz, the Ice Queen; you're Mr Vanilla, the guy who's been with the same girl for over two years and as soon as she's out of the picture you get some hot boy bum laid on a plate, there's no justice in this world."
"It's his reward for living a virtuous life," Mike retorted. "Anyway, as long as my little brother's happy with what Chris does with him, no-one in this house is going to be complaining."
"Do you mean they all know? Jesus, I knew that Tommy was a bit wild but the rest of your family seems so conservative; for your parents to allow Ben to do stuff with a guy like Chris is way cool." He turned to me. "As for you, I didn't think you had it in you."
"Neither did I until yesterday," I admitted, speaking for the first time. "Keep it to yourself though; it's not the sort of thing I want bandied about at university."
"Don't worry, I'm not that stupid. For the record, I've done things with guys occasionally and some of the boys and girls I've been with have been under sixteen. Age is just a number as far as I'm concerned and if the other person knows what they want and is mature enough to make their own decisions, what the hell. As long as he's happy, what you and Ben do is no-one else's business and I certainly won't be telling anyone."
"Thanks Brian," I replied, relieved that he felt that way and that we wouldn't have to worry about hiding our relationship from him anymore.
The conversation dried up after that little bombshell and we each pulled out our phones and I checked my messages. I had a nice video clip from my parents showing them enjoying Christmas with their grandchildren and my dad was ecstatic that my brother in law had managed to get a couple of tickets for the Boxing Day test match at the Melbourne Cricket Ground. Given how badly things had been going for England up 'til now, I wasn't sure if that was a present or a punishment but an Ashes test in front of 90,000 plus people at the MCG is one of the great sporting occasions and I knew he'd enjoy it whatever the outcome. I replied, telling them about the split from my girlfriend and that I was spending the holidays with Mike instead of her.
My thoughts were now focused on Megan; she'd been on my mind constantly the previous week but I'd hardly given her any consideration since my arrival in Yorkshire. Normally she was a big user of social media but, when I looked at her various profiles, I realised that she'd hardly posted a thing since we'd split up. Obviously she was hurting as much as I was; maybe even more so, since I now had Ben to distract me, so I decided to send her a message wishing her well and saying how sorry I was that Christmas had been ruined.
Lunch was a huge success; Jane was a superb cook and had roasted both a turkey and a goose, so there was more than enough to go around, even with thirteen of us. After the meal we all went through to the living room to relax and let our bulging bellies recover. While there, my phone rang and I was surprised when I pulled it out and looked at the name displayed on the screen, "Hi Megan," I said, when I answered, "How are you?" I stood up and headed for the door, this wasn't a conversation that I wanted to hold in front of twelve people; I couldn't help making eye contact with Ben as I went and his wide eyed look suggested that a phone call from my girlfriend wasn't exactly top of his Christmas wish list.
The conversation was awkward and rather stilted with neither of us being sure what to say. Megan is the only child of older parents and, from what she said, it didn't seem like she was enjoying the festivities as much as I was. I'm not sure exactly what her intentions were when she rang but I'm certain that discovering that I was having a lot more fun than she was convinced her to suggest that we get back together and that I should come down to her place for the remainder of the holidays. "Are your parents OK with that?" I asked, playing for time.
"I'll have to ask them," she replied, "but my aunt and uncle are here so I'll wait until they've gone. Can I call you again this evening?"
"Yeah, that's fine," I responded, relieved that I'd have a few hours to consider what to do.
"I popped my head round the living room door, told them that Megan wanted me to go to her place and said that I was going upstairs to think about what I was going to do."
Ben started to get up and said, "I'll come with you."
Tommy, who was sitting next to him, put a restraining hand on his shoulder and said, "Oh no you don't, he needs some time by himself."
I sat on the couch in Ben's bedroom and tried to decide what was best. On the one hand, I didn't want to hurt the boy's feelings; on the other, Megan was my long-term girlfriend and the idea of us being together again really appealed to me. I'm not sure how long I sat there but eventually there was a knock at the door and Tommy asked if he could come in for a chat.
"Have you made a decision?" he asked.
"No. It doesn't matter what I decide, I'm going to hurt someone's feelings."
"That should make the decision easier."
"If you care about both of them and one is bound to be hurt whatever you decide, then ignore the effect it's going to have on them and just do what's best for you."
"I'm not sure what is best for me."
"Do you think that you might have a long-term future with your girlfriend?"
"I did until we split up; now I'm not so sure."
"What about with Ben?"
I paused and then replied, "No, probably not."
"Well, there you are then. It seems to me that the best thing for you is to give it another go with your girlfriend; it might not work out but at least you'll have tried."
"What about Ben?"
"I'm sure he'll be upset but he'll get over it. He's going to have to learn that twelve year old gay boys can't expect `happy ever after' with a man."
"Isn't that a bit harsh."
"It's a harsh world but his family will support him and he'll be OK."
"What about Mike and the rest of the family, what will they think about me if I go?"
"Don't worry about that, they'll understand. In fact, they'll be very surprised if you elect to stay here."
I thanked Tommy for his advice and asked him to give me a few more minutes alone to make a final decision. Ten minutes later I returned to the living room, thanked Mr and Mrs Rogers for their hospitality and told them that I intended to accept Megan's invitation, assuming that her parents agreed to it. Ben mumbled something about playing on his PS4 and headed out without showing too much emotion but I still felt like shit.
I went online and managed to book a bus from Leeds to London the following day and Mike agreed to drive me into the city. The rest of Christmas Day passed as something of a blur and, when I eventually went to bed, Ben was already asleep, or pretending that he was. I didn't think that I would be welcome in his bed that night, so I made up my temporary one, climbed in and fell asleep, very much alone.
en was still under his duvet when I headed down to breakfast in the morning but was in the shower when I went back up to pack my bags an hour later. When he emerged from the bathroom he was naked, just as he had been the previous Friday but this time there was no embarrassed rush back inside. Instead he stood there, displaying himself for me to see and asked, "Do you think I can change your mind?"
I laughed and replied, "If I was thinking with this," I pointed at the lump in my groin, "the answer would be yes but for once I'm using my brain and this is about relationships, not sex. If I believed that there was any chance that you and I could have a long-term relationship, I would stay."
"It's OK," he said, quietly. "I'd rather you weren't going but I understand why you are."
I held out my arms and he stepped into my embrace, one that was completely non-sexual, despite the fact that he wasn't wearing a stitch. I waited while he dressed and then we went downstairs together. When she saw us, Jane looked relieved that it looked like we were going to be parting on good terms; clearly she'd been concerned about her son's reaction to his disappointment. I spent the final hour or so with Ben and then we said an emotional goodbye, he wasn't coming with us to the bus station as we didn't want to this particular scene to be a public one. The boy cried unashamedly and I felt dampness in my eyes as well, before I climbed into the passenger seat of Mike's car and we set off for Leeds.
We drove southwards in silence, my thoughts being about Ben and I just hoped that he'd be OK. "Don't worry, he'll be fine," Mike said eventually, reading my mind. "The family will take care of him and Tommy will look after his other needs; or maybe Brian will do that." My reaction to that comment brought a wry smile to Mike's face and he asked, "Do you want me to tell Brian to keep away?"
I wanted to shout, `Yes. Keep him away from my boy,' but, in choosing to leave, I was giving up all claim to him, so instead I said, "No, Ben is perfectly capable of making his own decisions about who shares his bed. If I didn't believe that, then I'd just be a child molester."
"I'm glad you feel that way," Mike replied, "but I don't think anything'll happen between them. Ben's got the hots for you but he doesn't seem to feel the same way about Brian." I was relieved to hear that. I expected Ben to do stuff with Tommy again and knew that there would be other guys too, eventually; but, for some reason, I found the idea of Brian fucking him to be an extremely unpleasant one.
We arrived in Leeds just after midday and, with almost two hours to spare, Mike dropped me off outside Subway and I had lunch there before walking along to the bus station. I had plenty of thinking time on the nearly four hour bus journey but it wasn't the girl I was going to see who dominated those thoughts; it was the boy I'd left behind.
On arrival at Victoria, I had intended to get the underground to Chiswick but District Line closures made the trip more awkward and I finished up splashing out on a taxi. I was nervous when I rang the doorbell and when Megan's dad, Bill, answered it, he didn't exactly make me feel welcome, simply standing aside and giving me a terse, "Come in." Her mum, Sarah, was equally cool although I did get a kiss from Megan herself, albeit a mere peck on the cheek. Mr and Mrs Franks had been in their forties before their only child was born and were now in their sixties, closer in age and outlook to Ben's grandparents than his parents. The first few times we had visited they had given me the spare room, even though they knew we were living together; more recently we had shared Megan's room but now I was exiled back to the spare. I unpacked and joined the others for dinner, where the conversation was polite at best and afterwards we retired to the living room. Megan and I really needed to be alone to talk but she didn't want to go to one of our bedrooms, it was pouring with rain outside and her parents seemed determined not to leave us alone in the living room. Eventually we all went to our respective beds without us having the opportunity to try and salvage our relationship.
t was still raining the following morning and I still couldn't get Megan on her own for long enough for us to have a meaningful conversation. When the weather improved towards lunchtime, I suggested that we eat at one of the riverside pubs but to my horror she agreed and then invited her parents too. Megan and Sarah talked while Bill and I sat in near silence and I began to understand what was happening. I'm not the kind of person who believes he is always right; the argument that had caused our split had been over a fairly trivial difference of opinion and there hadn't really been a right or wrong. I believed that what we needed to do was apologise to one another, accept the other's apology in turn and then try to move on from there. I now realised that Megan had other ideas; she wanted me to accept that I was in the wrong and apologise publicly, in front of her parents in other words; only then would she allow our relationship to continue.
My parents have some very different opinions on some subjects; my dad had been a naval officer and is fairly conservative whereas my mum is more liberal. They discussed things openly, agreed to disagree occasionally, accepted each other's right to a contrary point of view and got on with their lives. Megan's parents were different, Sarah was outspoken but if Bill had opinions he kept them to himself and he had never openly disagreed with his wife in my company. It seemed that Megan expected our relationship to follow the same pattern as theirs and this was the big test, to see if I would fall into line. It was a defining moment; if I succumbed then I would be trained to be a clone of her father, my future would include marriage, kids and lifetime of subservience to a domineering wife. That was not a pleasant thought and therefore I refused to comply.
As the two women talked I looked around the pub and my attention was grabbed by a young boy of similar age to Ben, though nowhere near as cute. Once I'd noticed the lad, I became aware of the rest of his family; particularly what I assumed was his elder brother, a boy of about sixteen or seventeen. Three things struck me; firstly, although he didn't look like a girl, the boy had a certain femininity to his appearance and acted in an effeminate manner, so I guessed that he was probably gay. Secondly, the way that he was looking at me suggested that he found me attractive and thirdly, I realised that I was attracted to him as well and now had an erection. This was confusing, as he was significantly older than what I had previously considered to be my age of attraction when it came to boys and it forced me to reappraise my sexuality; perhaps I was bisexual after all. We left before they did and, as we passed their table, I gave him a smile and got a sad one in return; I hoped he had a boyfriend, or would soon get one, to cheer him up.
Back at Megan's place I managed to get her alone for a few moments, told her firmly that we needed to talk alone and suggested that we go out that evening without her parents. She seemed a little reluctant, which suggested that I was correct in my assumptions but eventually agreed and we found ourselves back in the same pub six hours later.
"Why are you being so stubborn?" she asked. "Is it really asking too much for you to say `sorry'?"
"It takes two to tango."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, that when two people are equally to blame, then each should apologise to the other."
"What if one of them doesn't believe that she's done anything to apologise for?"
"Then the relationship is in deep trouble and probably doesn't have a future."
"Is that what you think about us?"
"I believe that we were equally at fault for what happened and I'm prepared to meet you half way. If you disagree with that, then we should go our separate ways."
She considered that for a few moments and then said, "I think that's for the best, don't you?"
And so, as simply as that, my relationship with Megan ended; at least it ended civilly and we parted on better terms than we would've had I not come down here and made the attempt at reconciliation. She agreed to move out of our shared home, as Mike and Brian were more my friends than hers; she had already contacted a girlfriend of hers who had a room going spare and would now let her know that she'd definitely be taking it.
When we returned, her parents seemed to be relieved by our decision and Bill was friendlier towards me than he had been since I'd arrived, although Sarah maintained a cool distance. While I don't think they have anything against me personally, they'd probably never approved of their daughter living with a guy at all and her moving in with another girl no doubt suited them far better.
I now had to decide what to do for the remainder of the holidays, part of me wanted to go back to Yorkshire and see Ben again but my conscience was troubled by that idea. I had originally gone to Mike's to avoid spending Christmas alone and hadn't intended for anything to happen with Ben. Everything that had happened between us had been at the boy's instigation and for his enjoyment, so I had been able to convince myself that my actions had been those of a boy lover rather than a paedophile, even if the law recognised no such difference. Going back now would be different, I would be returning for the purpose of having sex with the boy and, in my eyes at least, I would've crossed the boundary of what was morally acceptable. I was also worried that his parents would have a similar view of the situation and might not be as welcoming as they had been before.
That left a choice between my parents' home in Hampshire and returning to Camford. As a service family we had moved around constantly during my childhood; Mum and Dad had moved into their current house after he had left the Royal Navy and I was already at university, so it wasn't really my home. In addition, it was located in a small village where I had no friends, so I didn't see the point in going there and opted for Camford instead.
ate Thursday afternoon saw me finally arrive home, pay the taxi which had brought me from the train station and turn up the heating which had been left on low while the place was empty. There was hardly anything to eat but I decided to leave the food shopping until the morning and make do with take away that evening; I was looking over our collection of menus when my phone rang, it was Mike.
"Hi Mike," I answered.
"Hi Chris," he responded, "When are you coming back up."
"What do you mean?"
"Megan tweeted that you two had split up, so I guessed that you'd be heading back here."
"No, I'm back in Camford, I think that's the best thing for me to do." Then I explained the reasons for my decision.
"I admire you for taking a moral stand but I don't think my brother will agree with it. He's been miserable the last couple of days and only cheered up when he thought you'd be coming back. Don't worry about Mum and Dad they'd be very pleased if you came back, they really like you and think that you've been great for Ben; they've even been talking about inviting you on holiday next summer."
"I'm sorry if Ben is unhappy but I'm really not comfortable with the idea of chasing after a twelve year old boy. As for next summer, lots could happen between now and then; I could easily be with another girl and Ben might've found someone else too."
"OK, if that's how you feel then you've got to follow your conscience but if you change your mind you'll always be welcome here."
"Thanks Mike, I'll see you when you get back. Bye."
After I ended the call, I sat and considered what I'd done. I wanted to see Ben and obviously he felt the same way but I was making us both unhappy because I'd decided to take an extremely questionable moral position. Did it really matter whether or not I pursued the boy? It was illegal for us to have sex either way but no matter how much I tried to convince myself I just couldn't shake the conviction that going back wouldn't be the right thing to do.
I decided on pizza and, after I'd eaten, settled down in the living room, opened my laptop and started looking for pictures of teenage boys. There was actually a good reason for this; my encounter with the boy in the pub the previous lunchtime had changed my preconceptions about my sexuality and I wanted to find out exactly what I did and didn't find attractive. I had assumed that I liked women and pre-pubescent males but the boy hadn't fallen into either category so now I intended to carry out some research. To begin with I looked at fully clothed guys and found that if they had cute, youthful faces, then I was attracted to them even up to my own age. Moving on to topless pictures, I soon discovered that muscular guys did nothing for me; six packs and prominent pecs might be considered attractive by most women and gay men but not me, I much preferred those with slim, boyish bodies.
Hair was another issue; a little fuzz on forearms and lower legs was OK but smooth was better and facial hair was a complete no-no. Moving on to nude pictures, I decided that a little pubic hair was acceptable as long as it was neatly trimmed and that a small cock was preferable to a large one. These pictures introduced me to the word `twink', which I vaguely knew of as having links to gay porn but I'd never really thought about what it actually meant. I found several, similar definitions but the one I liked best was, `a young, attractive gay male in his teens or early twenties; with a slim build, no facial hair and little or no body hair'; it summed up what I found attractive in guys perfectly.
Having discovered twinks, it didn't take me long to start viewing gay porn clips which involved them. I didn't want to look at underage porn; I still saw what Ben and I had done as consensual, whatever the law said but with porn you can't tell whether the models are willing or not and I thought the risk was too great anyway. With regular gay porn I found that the makers were rather liberal with the `twink' tag and I had to be fairly selective to find guys that I liked. To start with I only looked at clips with two twinks, thinking that other guys would be a turn-off but then found that I really enjoyed watching a teen boy being fucked by a dominant older guy and liked to imagine myself in that role. When I eventually found a thirty minute HD clip, with a guy who was similar to me and a boy who looked like an older version of Ben, I connected the laptop to the TV, lay back on the couch and jerked off while fantasising about the boy I'd fucked but had then abandoned. When the two models reached the cum shot, I speeded up and, just as the older guy came all over the younger one's face, I did likewise on my chest and stomach.
I struggled to get to sleep that night, suffering from a bad case of schizophrenia; on the one hand I cursed myself for not returning to Ben, the boy had been looking forward to my return and I'd let him down. On the other hand I congratulated myself for my moral integrity; I'd done the right thing and sacrificed my own pleasure in order to do it. Ben might be unhappy now but he'd find someone to love eventually and would be happier without me popping in and out of his life and confusing him. It was some time after two in the morning before I silenced my internal debate and finally dropped off.
late night inevitably meant a late morning and it was after ten before I got up. There was nothing for breakfast, we'd used up most of the food prior to Christmas and I'd finished what was left during my week alone, when I'd existed day to day waiting for Megan's call which had never arrived. I went to the supermarket, had breakfast in the café and then spent a small fortune restocking the house food supplies. I returned home, chucked some clothes in the washing machine and caught up on some neglected housework.
After lunch I was back on the laptop again, this time trying to discover how my new found understanding of my sexuality might work in practice. I had said to Tommy that I didn't think that Ben and I could have a relationship but that was because, as I'd previously told the boy, I didn't think that I would find him attractive when he matured. Now I knew that wasn't necessarily true and I started to wonder just what Ben would be like when he was older. The best example I could think of was his elder brother but I didn't find Mike in the least bit attractive and I had to work out why and whether Ben would be the same or not.
I went onto Mike's Facebook page and clicked on his profile picture; his first and most obvious failing, as far as I was concerned, was his facial hair. He had designer stubble rather than a full blown beard but it was enough to turn me off big time. He hadn't had it when we'd first met, though; he'd grown it because he had something of a baby face and was fed up having to continually show proof of age and having the validity of his ID questioned. I looked back at previous pictures and found one when he was on the beach aged eighteen wearing only a pair of shorts. He was definitely cute enough for me to find his looks to be attractive but his muscular build and body hair were still a problem, so I went even further back until I found a similar one taken when he was sixteen. The resolution of this picture was poorer and any hair he might've had didn't show, in addition it was obviously taken before he started working out regularly because his build was much more to my taste, slim and boyish rather than the defined musculature of the later pictures. Finally I went all the way back to when he was twelve and found a picture which I compared to one of Ben which had been taken last summer; twelve year old Mike was extremely cute but not in the same league as his younger brother.
I decided that, if I met sixteen year old Mike today I'd find him attractive, so if Ben stayed slim and removed any facial or body hair that he might grow, there was no reason to believe that I wouldn't find him attractive at sixteen, eighteen maybe or possibly even older. In that time, of course, I would get older as well and my age of attraction might well increase as I did so; suddenly the idea of a long-term relationship with him didn't seem so far-fetched after all, only my conscience and my stubborn refusal to return north now standing in our way.
My reverie was disturbed by the doorbell ringing; it was just after four and in late December that meant that it was already twilight outside and fairly dark in the living room. As I headed for the door, I looked out and saw a car parked in front of the house that seemed familiar; then I recognised it as Tommy's and remembered that he and Imelda were planning to travel to London today, where they were going to celebrate New Year with friends. I groaned inwardly, I knew that my resolve was about to be tested again; Tommy wouldn't have diverted here unless he thought he could persuade me to change my mind about going back to Yorkshire and I knew that he could be very persuasive. I took a deep breath, prepared to stand up against whatever Tommy threw at me and opened the door; only it wasn't Tommy who stood on the doorstep.
"Ben!" I exclaimed in surprise, "What are you doing here?"
"Aren't you pleased to see me?" he asked, in a small voice with a worried expression on his face.
"Oh baby, of course I'm pleased to see you," I responded, opening my arms. He stepped forward, slipped his arms around my waist and I clasped him in mine, kissing the top of his head as I did so. I heard the sound of an engine, looked up and saw Tommy's car driving off, he'd only waited long enough to make sure that Ben and I were together before leaving, I'd been presented with a fait accompli.
Realising that I was standing in an open doorway, holding and kissing a twelve year old boy, I manoeuvred him into the hallway, released him long enough to step outside and pick up his bags and went back inside, closing the door behind me. Ben was straight back into my arms, sobbing just like he had the last time we'd hugged but in happiness this time.
Eventually I managed to get us onto the living room couch, with the lights on and the curtains closed; I was sitting with Ben astride my lap, his arms around my neck and mine around his waist; I was starting to think that he would never willingly let go of me again. "What are you doing here?" I asked him for a second time. "Do your parents know where you are?"
"Of course they do," he responded with a grin. "It was Tommy's idea but they were all for it; my grandparents think I'm staying with him," he added, his grin getting even bigger. "When Mike said that you'd split up from your girlfriend for good I was really happy, I know that's pretty selfish but I couldn't help it. Then, when he said you weren't coming back up, I had a bit of a strop; I acted more like little kid than I have for ages. Tommy explained why you weren't coming, that you still liked me but were worried that chasing after an underage boy was wrong; so I insisted that I was going to come down here instead, although I knew I couldn't really. Then, when I got up this morning, they told me that they'd all discussed it last night after I'd gone to bed and I could come here if I wanted, as long as you were OK with it."
"I wasn't exactly given much choice in the matter," I retorted, although I smiled to make sure he knew I wasn't being serious.
"That was Tommy's idea too," Ben replied with another grin, "He said I can call him if you don't want me to stay but he doesn't expect to hear from me."
"When do you have to go home? The schools round here go back on Wednesday, I think."
"We didn't break up until last Friday; we're not back until the eighth of January, so I've got over a week if that's OK with you."
I hugged him tightly again and said, "Your bum might be so sore that you'll want to go home before then."
"As long as I feel as good as I did last time, I don't care how sore it gets."
"Have you done anything since we were last together?"
"No, Tommy told me that he'd always be there for me but I'd be better off with someone who wasn't a relative and that I should wait to see what happened with you. Brian suggested that we get together but I think he's the kind of guy who's only interested in his own fun and although I quite like him, I don't want him in that way."
"I think you're lucky to have an uncle like Tommy, he's taught you a lot more than just sex. Your description of Brian is spot on, he's quite selfish when it comes to sex and it's good that you were able to recognise that. The fact that you're able to make informed decisions about who you do sex stuff with, just confirms that you're mature enough to make those decisions yourself, no matter what the law says."
"It's funny but now we're here together, I'm glad that you didn't go back to Yorkshire. It's going to be much more fun just the two of us, we'll be able to do lots more than we would back home and we've got to do as much as we can before I get too old for you."
"I've been thinking about that and hopefully we can delay it for a long time yet."
"How?" he asked, looking puzzled.
"We'll have lots of time to discuss things like that over the next few days," I said, planting a tender kiss on his cherry lips, "but right now we've got far more important matters to take care of."
He didn't reply, simply pulled us back together and we kissed passionately for a minute or two before we helped each other out of our clothes, lay along the couch in opposite directions and started to suck one another's cock. With me being significantly taller than Ben, we had to take a few moments to adjust our positions but, once we were comfortable, I went after the boy's cock and balls with a will and enjoyed the sensations as he treated mine in the same way. After a while I slipped a wet finger inside his hole, located his sensitive gland and began to stimulate him in two places; this of course brought him to orgasm first and he shot his small, sweet load into my grateful mouth. When he became too sensitive I released his cock and withdrew my finger but continued to suck his balls as he brought me to my own climax. He took my first shot in his mouth but then pulled back and took the remainder on his face, just like the twink in the porno I'd been watching the previous evening; when I saw his cum drenched face I thought it was one of the hottest sights I'd ever seen. I turned around and kissed him, cleaning my cum from his lips as I did so, then licked his chin clean and kissed him again; repeating this several times until I'd removed it all and he was back to being a cute, innocent boy again; well, perhaps not so innocent.
I wrapped him in my arms and we lay, spooned together until a rumbling from his belly brought a giggle from the boy and reminded me that it was time for food. We dressed in underpants and T-shirts and I made spaghetti bolognaise, that good old student standby with the sauce coming out of a jar naturally and, although Ben said it was very good, I think he was just being polite. While I was making it, Ben took his bags up to my bedroom, unpacked, spent a fair amount of time in the bathroom and eventually I heard the shower running. When he came back down he announced that he was now ready for anything, which I took to mean that he was clean inside and out; clearly he'd brought more than just clothes with him.
After dinner Ben asked again what I'd meant by delaying the time when I'd no longer find him attractive. I told him about the boy I'd seen in the Chiswick pub and then switched on the laptop and showed him the pictures of himself and Mike at twelve. "You're cuter than he was at your age," I told him, switching to Mike at sixteen. "I still like your brother at that age, so there's no reason to suppose that I won't like you too. Even at eighteen Mike still had an attractive face," I said, moving on to the relevant photo, "it's the body hair and muscles that are the problem now. If you can keep slim and hair free, I reckon I still like you when you're eighteen or maybe even older."
For that last statement I was rewarded with a hug and kiss from my special boy, "I think I should be able to manage that," he said. "I've seen porn with two hunks and I don't really like it, I think a hunk and a twink is a much better combination and I always imagine that I'm the twink. I've never really wanted to look like my brother when I get older, although he is kinda hot," he added with a giggle.
"You fancy your brother!" I responded, in mock horror. "Does that mean you plan to have more incest?"
"No," he replied, turning serious. "Not even with Tommy, as long as we're together I'm not going to do anything with anyone else."
It was my turn to kiss him, "I don't mind if you play around with your friends when we're apart. I know you prefer older guys but it beats wanking and it might keep your mind away from other men."
"What about you, what will you do when we're not together? Get another girlfriend?"
"No chance, I'll stick to pictures of you and my trusty right hand. Anyway, I'm not permanently horny like a pubescent boy so I don't need it as much as you, I'll get by."
"Does that mean you don't want to do anything else tonight?" he asked, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.
"Well, I was hoping to have an early night with a mug of cocoa and a good book." That earned me a thump on the shoulder rather than a kiss and I responded by grabbing my assailant and tickling him until he begged me to stop. "Why should I stop? You hit me, you deserve to be punished."
"You could spank me," he retorted, with an evil glint in his eye.
"I'm not sure about that," I replied. "It's one thing for two adults to do stuff like that but not a man and a boy."
"Pleeease," he begged, in a little boy voice. "I've wanted to try it for ages, just a couple of swipes on each cheek to see what it's like."
"Alright then," I agreed reluctantly and the words were hardly out of my mouth before he was up, stripped and lying across my lap, his hard cock pressed against my right thigh. I placed my left hand on his back to hold him in place, rubbed his buttocks for a few seconds with my right and then used it to give him a swipe on his right cheek. He squealed and tensed; his back arching and his cock pressing even harder against my leg. "Are you OK?" I asked, worried that I might've hurt him.
"I'm fine," he replied, "Do it harder." I gave him a second shot on his other cheek and he responded with, "I said harder, you hit like a girl." I grinned to myself and gave him what he wanted, getting another squeal and a gasp of, "That's more like it," in return. I gave him one final swipe and then caressed his reddened buttocks with my left hand while I wet the index finger of my right. When I switched my attention to his crack he moaned and spread his legs wider, giving me better access to his hole; I removed the finger from my mouth, pressed it against his anus and pushed it inside him. I quickly found and started to massage his prostate but, after a few seconds, I stopped and simply pressed my digit against his gland. He tutted and began to wriggle his bum, restarting the motion between finger and prostate but also causing his cock to rub against my thigh. His wriggling got faster as his orgasm approached, his cock grinding into my leg before he climaxed and deposited another couple of shots of boy juice onto my thigh.
He slumped down onto me so I picked him up, manoeuvred him back astride my lap, with his head on my shoulder and wrapped my arms around him while he recovered. After several minutes he raised his head, put his arms around my neck and kissed me, "Thanks, that was brilliant."
"Are you sure that you're OK, baby?" I enquired. "I didn't hit you too hard, did I?"
"No, the first two weren't hard enough; the final two were perfect. Do them all like that next time."
"Are you sure that you want to do it again?"
"Fuck yeah. I told you, it was brilliant."
"I thought you meant the orgasm."
"I did but the spanking really turned me on and made the orgasm even better. Talking of orgasms, it's your turn to cum now," he said rubbing my hard, pre-cum leaking cock; spanking him had turned me on as well, to a far greater degree than I could have imagined.
I slipped an arm under his bum and stood up, lifting him as I did so, "Time to take this little party to the bedroom," I said, "I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll think my cock's coming out of your throat."
"Bring it on."
Carrying a twelve year old turned out to be harder work than I'd realised; with one hand to hold him and one on the bannister I managed to struggle upstairs and, of course, the tongue in my ear was extremely `helpful'. When I finally made it, I deposited the giggling boy on the bed and growled, "You're going to pay for that, kiddo."
Ben turned onto his elbows and knees, waggled his bum at me, looked back over his shoulder with his sexiest look and said, "Come on old man, give it your best shot."
My T-shirt and underpants were off in no time and I was soon on my knees behind him, spreading his cheeks and gazing at the entrance to paradise. I breathed in; getting a slight scent of shower gel but that was overpowered by the intoxicating aroma of horny boy. I ran my tongue from his balls, across his perineum and up the crack of his arse before going to work on his pucker; licking sucking and prodding with my oral muscle; pushing it inside him and tongue fucking him while he writhed and moaned with pleasure. Several times I stopped and dribbled more saliva into his hole, before returning to the task of getting him wet and loose. When my tongue was aching too much to continue I switched to fingers; one wet one followed by two lubricated ones and, on this occasion, I added a third digit as well.
I removed my fingers, put plenty of lube on my cock, lined it up with his hole and pushed through its weakened defences into his rectum. He gasped as I penetrated him and his sphincter clamped down on my shaft as soon as my glans was inside. I paused for a few moments, while he accustomed himself to the intruder, then pushed onwards until I was pressed against his buttocks and could go no further. "You OK, baby?" I asked before proceeding.
"Yeah, just fuck me."
I didn't require a second invitation and began to move in and out, slowly at first but then speeding up to the suctioning sound of cock and anus in harmony with the slapping of skin against skin. As I continued to fuck him, I felt less resistance as he loosened up, which brought the danger that I might speed up to the point where I came too soon, so I decided to change position to something I'd seen on one of the porn videos. Without pulling out I moved us until Ben was partly on his back and partly on his left side, with his left leg bent at the knee. I lay alongside him, holding him in the crook of my left arm, with my lower body swung below his and his right leg lying across me. In this position my mouth had access to his face and upper body while my right hand was able to reach most of him; which meant I could kiss, lick, fondle and caress to my heart's content while continuing to fuck him as fast or slow as I wanted.
I'd orgasmed once and Ben twice since he'd arrived, so neither of us was in any rush to do so again and the fuck went on and on until, as I was nuzzling his neck and rubbing his balls, he announced that he was about to cum. I quickened up and switched my hand to his cock, wanking him as I pounded his prostate and a few seconds later he climaxed, almost dry this time but his insides tensed up as he did so, pushing me over the edge as well and I filled his rectum with several spurts of spunk.
When he'd recovered, he turned his head towards me, smiled and said, "Wow, that was the best yet."
"For me too, baby," I agreed and kissed him. I could feel my cock start to soften and slip out of him and now I wanted to try something else that I'd seen on last night's porn; I moved down, raised his legs and, as the first of my cum began to dribble of him I licked it up. I thought it might disgust me but he had been clean before we started and I found that he was giving off a yeasty aroma and that the taste wasn't unpleasant.
"Yuck, how can you do that?" Ben asked. I took the next dribble on my forefinger and offered it to him; he wrinkled his nose at first but then sniffed at it and stuck out a tentative tongue. I gave him a little and he tasted it before shrugging and saying, "It's not too bad." I went down once again, came back with a nice mouthful and we kissed; enjoying the tangy taste that came from the mixture of a man's cum and a boy's rectal juices.
He paid another visit to the toilet to relieve himself of the remainder of my cum and then we shared a quick shower before returning to bed. We snuggled up in our favourite spoon position and chatted for a while, nothing but meaningless small talk. Then, even though it wasn't particularly late, we drifted off to sleep; good sex often has that effect.
he only previous time that I'd awakened to find myself being fellated, I was drunk and had reacted rather badly to discovering that it was a twelve year old boy doing the deed; this time I was sober, well rested and thoroughly enjoyed the entire experience. Naturally I returned the compliment when he'd finished and then we moved to the shower, which wasn't really large enough for two but we squeezed in and spent an enjoyable half hour washing one another while having a lot of fun.
After breakfast I suggested that we go for a walk along the riverbank. "I want you to keep slim," I reminded him, when he demurred, "but I don't want you to do it by starving yourself. I want you to eat properly so that means you need plenty of exercise too."
It was chilly but the early morning drizzle had ceased by the time we went out around ten; there were a few dog walkers around but, with nearly all the students having gone home for the holidays, we didn't see many other people. At a bend in the river there was a small, stony beach and Ben raced down to it and started throwing stones into the water, in particular trying to see how many times he could skip flat ones across the surface. I stood and watched, enjoying seeing him act like the boy he was; something that's easy to forget when he's your lover. After five minutes or so he was joined by another, smaller boy and shortly after that a man appeared next to me, also watching the pair.
"Your son?" I asked, making polite conversation.
"My nephew actually," he replied. "His mum is my sister and she's gone away for the holidays with her boyfriend. He's not Ricky's father and they don't really get on so I'm looking after him while they're away."
I wondered why he'd given so much unsolicited information. It was almost like he was trying to justify the boy's presence and I began to question exactly what their relationship might be; something I'd never have done before I started having sex with Ben.
"What about you?" he asked, gesturing towards my boy. "You're definitely not his dad."
"No, he's my housemate's brother," I replied, with total honesty.
"Oh yes?" the question was implicit; like me, he suspected there was more to the relationship than I was saying.
"He's sort of attached himself to me," I said. Then, leaning towards him in a conspiratorial manner, I continued, "To be honest, I think he's got a bit of a crush on me."
The man laughed, the best way to allay suspicion is to make a joke of it and now we chatted in a much more relaxed way. The two boys also seemed to be getting along well, chattering away animatedly and laughing with one another; after a while they got into a more serious conversation and then came back up to where we standing.
Ricky appeared to be about ten and, as soon as he and Ben reached us, he asked, "Uncle Paul, can Ben and his friend come to the party tomorrow?"
"Oh . . . err . . . well . . . I'm not sure that it's going to be their sort of party," the man replied, somewhat flustered.
"Yes it is," the boy insisted, "they're just like us." Clearly the two boys had sussed each other out, just as we men had; unlike us, however, they hadn't been inhibited by convention and had happily discussed their relationships with one another.
There was a long pause and then Paul turned to me with raised eyebrows and said, "A crush, huh?"
I grinned back, shrugged and replied, "Perhaps there is a little more to it than that and maybe it's not quite as one sided as I suggested."
He laughed again, held out his hand and said, "I'm Paul McLean and this is Ricky. I'm hosting a New Year party tomorrow evening for a few mates who share my appreciation of boys. If you and your young friend want to come along, you'll be very welcome."
I took his proffered hand and replied, "I'm Chris Anderson and this is Ben Rogers. Thanks for the invite but what sort of party is it, exactly?"
"Don't worry; it's not an orgy or anything. It's just a bunch of boy lovers and their boys meeting up to see in the New Year. Of course, the bedrooms are available for anyone who might want to make use of them."
"What do you think, Ben?" I asked. "Would you like to go to the party tomorrow?"
"Yeah, I think it could be fun," he replied, obviously pleased to have been asked for his opinion, "but only if you want to go too," he added.
Paul gave me his address, which turned out to be only a fifteen minute walk from where we lived and we arranged to be there around eight the following evening. We shook hands again and continued on our separate ways, the other two heading in the opposite direction to Ben and me.
"How the hell did you and Ricky find out so much about each other?" I asked Ben as soon as we were alone. "You were only talking for about ten minutes."
"I don't know," the boy replied with a shrug, "I realised that he was gay immediately and the way he talked about his uncle made it obvious that he loved him. I asked him straight out if they did sex stuff together and he said yes. I thought it was only fair to tell him that we did too and then he mentioned the party."
I laughed as I compared the straightforward way in which the boys communicated, with the verbal jousting in which Paul and I had engaged. We had each suspected that the other was a boy lover but had refused to admit it to one another whereas the boys, once they realised that they both liked men, had been much more open.
The route home took us through the shopping centre and, rather than inflict more of my cooking on him, I gave Ben his choice of eating place for lunch. He picked KFC, which I decided was a definite step up from McDonalds when I discovered that watching a cute boy eating fried chicken and then licking his fingers could be surprisingly erotic.
When we got home, I suggested that Ben call his parents to let them know that everything was OK. However open minded they might be, they were bound to be concerned for his well-being; after all, allowing him to have sex at home was one thing but sending him nearly two hundred miles to be with a man they'd only known for a few days was something else entirely, even if that guy was a friend of their other son. He went to our bedroom to make the call but before he came back my phone rang and I was surprised to find that it was Jane calling, Ben was now talking to his brother and she wanted to make sure that I was comfortable with the situation.
"We were all very disappointed when you didn't come back," she said. "Although I understood the reasons you gave, I was still concerned that maybe you didn't really want to continue the relationship with Ben and were just making excuses. Sending him down to you was a tough decision and, while we knew that our son was happy to go, we didn't know how you'd react. I wanted to ask you first but my brother said that you might say no even if you didn't mean it and it would be better to surprise you. It is OK for him to be there, isn't it?"
"Yes, it's worked out perfectly," I reassured her. "Once I got used to the idea, being with Ben wasn't the problem; it was being seen as some sort of sexual predator that worried me. The fact that he's come down here by his own choice and that you and Tim have allowed him to do it, removes that obstacle as far as I'm concerned; now I can just concentrate on giving him the best time that I can."
"You'll never know how pleased I am to hear you say that. As a mother I worry about the health and happiness of all my children but, due to his sexuality and liking for older guys, Ben is probably the most vulnerable of the three. You seemed to be an ideal partner for him, that's why I was so concerned when it looked like the relationship might not work but you both sound extremely happy right now, which is a huge relief."
"I'll do my best to look after him for you and hopefully we'll be together for a long time yet."
We ended the call and a few minutes later Ben returned and snuggled up to me on the couch. He seemed to be a bit subdued so I asked him if there was anything wrong. "Mum said she was going to call you, she's worried that I might not be welcome here. I hope she doesn't say I've got to go home."
"Don't worry, she's already called and everything's fine."
"Really? That's brilliant," he responded, a huge grin lighting up his face and dispelling any despondency.
We chilled for the rest of the afternoon and then, after dinner, I asked Ben what he wanted to do. "Guess," he replied, settling into his usual place on my lap and giving me a suggestive leer.
"I'm not very good at hints, you'll have to spell it out for me," I replied, trying to keep a straight face.
"S.E.X." he responded, carefully enunciating each letter.
"Sex!" I exclaimed, pretending to be shocked. "We can't do that, you're just a child, it's against the law."
"If you don't, I'll tell Mum that you're not looking after me properly."
"I can just picture that, `Mum, Chris won't fuck me'," I replied and we both laughed at the absurdity of the idea.
We began kissing, gently to start with, then more passionately and, as we did so, I slipped my hands inside the loose waistband of his joggers and cupped his cheeks. However, when I ran a finger up and down his crack and grazed his hole, I noticed that he winced slightly. I stopped and told him to lie down on the couch and let me have a look at his bottom and, despite a bit of grumbling about his bum being perfectly OK, he did as I asked. Although his anus looked considerably better than it had the night before, it was still a little red and puffy and when I touched it he winced again. "No fucking for you tonight," I told him. "It'll probably take a while before we can do it every day but there's no way I'm going to hurt you." I found some antiseptic cream in the bathroom, applied some to his bum and we made do with pleasuring each other orally that evening. Fortunately, kissing and licking every part of one another's body as an end, rather than just foreplay, proved to be nearly as much fun as intercourse and we each managed to climax more than once.
Knowing that tomorrow would be a long day, with the party bound to continue past midnight, we retired early, although we lay and talked for a while before going to sleep.
nce again I was awakened by a blow job, something that I could easily get used to. After pretending to complain about being sexually assaulted while I slept, I moved us into a sixty nine position and we brought one another to a very satisfactory morning climax. I checked on the state of Ben's bottom again while we were in the shower and was pleased to see that it was nearly back to normal and didn't appear to cause him any pain. I applied some more cream, just to be on the safe side and wondered whether I should've studied medicine rather than engineering and become a paediatrician. Then I concluded that, with my new found pederastic tendencies, that would be too much like mixing business with pleasure and therefore I was better off as I was.
For me, Sunday mornings have always been for lazing about, listening to music and, at exam times, for studying. Today was no exception and we spent a fair part of it cuddled together on the couch with music playing in the background. Eventually I had to sort out Sunday lunch, a chore that I wasn't looking forward to. The four of us had shared out household responsibilities but Megan, as the only decent cook, had always taken care of this particular meal and I knew from what Mike and Ben said that Jane's Sunday lunches were brilliant. I had bought a joint of beef from at the supermarket (too much for two) and followed the cooking instructions on the packaging. The best I can say for it, is that it wasn't a total disaster, the meat was good, the roast potatoes slightly underdone, the veg slightly overdone and the less said about gravy the better. Ben, bless him, ate everything on his plate and, when I asked him how it was replied, "Not bad, better than I could've done anyway," for which I rewarded him with a kiss.
After lunch we went out for another walk and for the first time I had to explain the boy's presence to one of the neighbours, a very pleasant elderly woman who lived across the road and was returning home as we headed out. I stuck to the truth and introduced Ben as Mike's brother and she accepted him without any questions. She knew that Megan was my girlfriend so she had no reason to suspect that there was anything untoward going on between me and the boy. We went along the riverside again but didn't see Paul and Ricky this time, returning home just after four as it was getting dark. I made sandwiches with the leftover beef that evening, which must've been pretty good because Ben asked for more and I don't think it was because he was starving, he actually enjoyed them.
We showered again before getting ready for the party and I gave Ben's bum one final check-up, all seemed well and I didn't see any reason why we should resume full scale sodomy that night. I dressed in my best shirt and trousers but when Ben appeared in the living room he took my breath away; he was wearing a pair of skin tight black jeans that showed off his little bum to perfection and a bright pink T-shirt, with what appeared to be the Intel logo on the front but actually said, `Gay Inside'. "My god, you . . . you're not gay are you?" I asked, putting on what I hoped was my best `horrified' expression.
"How can you tell?" he responded, putting on a camp voice and giving a twirl before bursting into laughter. "Tommy bought it for me for Christmas but he didn't give it to me in front of our grandparents, he thought it might be a bit much for them."
"I imagine they would be shocked if Tommy `gave it to you' in front of them," I replied, putting enough emphasis on the relevant words for the boy to get the innuendo.
He laughed again, came over and stood in front of where I was sitting, clasped his hands behind my neck and whispered seductively, "You're the only one who's going to be `giving it to me' from now on." We kissed and I allowed my hands to squeeze his buttocks as we did so. I would've liked nothing more than to have ripped the sexy clothes from his body and fucked him there and then but we had a party to go to so I had to let him go, albeit reluctantly.
It took us just over quarter of an hour to walk to Paul's house, which seemed to be fairly large and was secluded, being set back from the road and screened by high hedges. When we entered, Paul showed us where to hang our coats and took us into the living room; the seats had all been pushed back against the walls to create more room and at the far end a pair of double doors stood open giving access to the dining room, the furniture of which had likewise been moved to create space. Ricky appeared, grabbed Ben by the hand and pulled him towards the double doors, through which it seemed the boys had gathered. Meanwhile Paul got me a drink and introduced me to about half a dozen men who were standing chatting in the living room.
I couldn't remember all the names but I was very aware that I was the youngest by some margin, none of the others being under thirty. After a few minutes of small talk the doorbell rang, Paul went off to greet his new guest and I wandered over to the doors to see how Ben was getting on. I needn't have worried about him; I was the youngest man but Ben appeared to be the eldest boy and, in my opinion, the best looking and he was very much the centre of attention, standing in the middle of a bunch of cuties, probably ranging from eight to eleven. Ricky had a proprietorial grip on his arm, letting the others know that Ben was his friend. As I watched them another boy slouched past with his hands in his pockets, obviously the new arrival. He was older, probably thirteen or maybe fourteen and he looked a little awkward and out of place, possibly he felt the other boys were too young for him to be friends with. He got himself a soft drink and then appeared to spot Ben, made his way over and introduced himself, clearly relieved to have found a boy closer to his own age. As this unfolded in front of me, I became aware of someone standing at my shoulder and was about to turn to see who it was when a familiar voice said, "Hello Chris."
"Professor Beattie, hi," I replied, panicking to begin with at being `caught' at a boy lovers party by one of my tutors, then relaxing as I realised that he must be here for the same reason that I was and that the boy who had just arrived was probably his. Then I recalled a story that Brian had told me, about the professor and one of the other players in the rugby team he and Ben's brother played for. That young man, another Mike coincidently, was the son of the college's Master, Dr Robertson; he was openly bi and had been involved with several guys and girls to my knowledge but was too narcissistic for me to like him very much. According to rumour, he had only gained admittance to the university by allowing Professor Beattie to fuck him but, given the guy's academic and sporting abilities, not to mention his family ties, I had considered that it was highly unlikely to be true. Now that I knew that the professor liked boys, I wondered if perhaps I'd been a little too hasty in dismissing its veracity.
"I'm surprised to see you here," the professor said. "I was under the impression that you and Miss Franks were an item."
"We were, not anymore."
"And you just happened to switch your allegiance to boys?"
"I just happened to meet the right boy immediately after the split."
"Which one's yours?" he asked, looking at the group of boys. "Don't tell me that he's the beautiful blond in the pink shirt."
"Yes, that's him," I replied, with a certain amount of pride.
"Congratulations, I can see why you call him `the right boy'. What's his name?"
"Ben, Ben Rogers."
"Rogers? He's not . . ."
"Mike's brother? Yes he is."
The professor laughed, "Did you know that their father, Tim, also attended our college?"
"Yes, Mike did mention it."
"He and I were students together. I could tell you a few stories about him; he wasn't always the upright City broker and family man."
"Those stories wouldn't include one about his fourteen year old girlfriend and her eleven year old brother, would they?" I asked as casually as I could.
He turned and stared at me, "My, my. You are well informed."
I grinned back at him, "Tommy told me, when he was persuading me to become Ben's lover."
"You needed persuasion to take on that little beauty?" he asked, incredulously.
"I've never been a boy lover before, it's taken me a bit of getting used to."
"Men have been loving boys for as long as humanity has existed," he said, "unfortunately we live in extremely unenlightened times and our society can't or won't differentiate between that love and child abuse. You've been brought up to believe that any sexual activity involving a man and a boy is wrong, so it's no wonder that you're confused. I'll bet that Ben would be much less content without you in his life and, if he didn't have a boy lover to take care of his needs, the chances of him falling into the clutches of a genuine molester would be that much greater. Boys like that can fall into the wrong hands all too easily and that's when they're in danger of being seriously hurt."
"I've started to realise that," I told him, "and I'm much more comfortable with the idea of being a boy lover now than I was just a week ago."
"Good, if you have any problems and need someone to talk to, you know where to find me."
At that moment Ben appeared in front of me, slipped his arms around my waist and raised his face for a kiss. I obliged and asked, "Is something wrong?"
"No, I just don't like being away from you for too long." He moved closer and put his head on my shoulder while I held him with my left arm and my drink in my right hand. "Chris, you know Paul said that the bedrooms would be available for those that wanted to do stuff? Do you think we could use one?"
"Can't you wait until we get home?"
"I want you to fuck me at midnight; it'll be the best New Year ever."
The professor, who was still standing by my side, laughed, "That's some boy you've got there, beautiful, sexy and in love with you."
He walked over to see his own boy and Ben asked, "Well?"
"I'll have to ask Paul, I'm not sure what the protocol is."
It turned out to be very simple, there were three spare bedrooms and Paul worked on a first come first served basis. As only one other couple had expressed an interest in using one, we were able to `book' one for eleven thirty. I was a little concerned about someone walking in on us but Paul explained that there was a red ribbon tied to the inside handle of each bedroom door and if I switched it to the outside when we went in, no-one would bother us. He also assured me that there was lube available next to every bed, thus removing another of my concerns.
We circulated for a while longer, Ben splitting his time between me and his new friends, who all appeared to be doing much the same thing. I found my fellow boy lovers to be a friendly bunch, as well as being extremely influential; as well as the professor, there was a doctor, a lawyer, a senior policeman and a city councillor; an extremely useful group to know. At eleven thirty we went upstairs to the room that Paul had allocated to us; even though the handle was bare, I knocked first and only entered when there was no reply. The ribbon was where Paul had said it would be and I moved it to the outside and then drew my boy over to the bed, which had been stripped down to just a bottom sheet; it had been prepared for sex, not sleeping in.
Ben sat on the bed while I knelt down, placed a hand on each of his knees, leaned forward and kissed him gently. I ran my hands up his thighs, grasped the hem of his T-shirt and lifted it while he raised his arms to allow me to remove it. I returned my hands to his legs as he unbuttoned and removed my shirt, then started kissing his chest and sucking on his nipples. I moved downwards, undid his jeans and, with a little difficulty, pulled the tight fitting garment down to his feet; his hard cock slapped against his belly as I did so and he grinned at the expression on my face as I realised that he wasn't wearing any underwear.
"Kinky, huh?" he leered at me as he said it but I ignored him, engulfed his boyhood in my mouth and started sucking him vigorously, while he grabbed my head and humped into me in return. We'd only known each other for just over a week but I already recognised when his climax was approaching and pulled away before he could cum. It was my turn to grin as I sensed his frustration, so I stood up and removed my remaining clothes as calmly as I could while the horny boy struggled to fully remove his jeans having initially forgotten to take his shoes off first in his haste to get naked.
I was ready before him and lay on my back, with my hands clasped behind my head and my legs spread. As soon as Ben joined me on the bed, he went straight for my cock; neither of us were very interested in foreplay tonight. As he once again exhibited his oral expertise, I reached over to retrieve the lube from the bedside table, where Paul had said it would be. I stopped the boy before he could bring me to an orgasm, lubed my cock and his anus and then lay back again, holding my erection upright while Ben crouched above it and lowered himself until he was fully impaled. He adjusted his position in order to get as comfortable as he could in this situation and then began moving up and down, slowly at first but then more quickly as he became accustomed to what was a new experience for him.
It was a pleasant change to have Ben doing all the work but there was no way a small boy like him could keep it up for any length of time and he soon tired. I pulled him down on top of me, without withdrawing and took over the active role pumping in and out of his bum while kissing him, one big advantage of this position. After several minutes of this I sat up, swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up with the boy still in my arms. For a moment I considered fucking him like that but, remembering how much I'd struggled just to carry him up the stairs and having no wish to put my back out, I turned and laid him on his back with his bum at the edge of the bed. He automatically raised his legs and I gripped them behind his knees and began to fuck him again, pounding his hole far harder than I'd done on any previous occasion.
As I pumped in and out, I glanced down and saw his four inches were rock hard and bouncing on his belly in time with my thrusts. His eyes were half closed and he was calling out, "Yes, yes, yes," over and over. Then he switched to, "Harder, faster," and I did my best to give him what he wanted, realising as I did so that my climax was now very close. Suddenly Ben yelled, "OH FUCK, YES," and two or three droplets of clear boy juice were ejaculated from his twitching cock just as I came too, filling his rectum with my much thicker offering. I was vaguely aware of cheering coming from downstairs and fireworks going off all round the neighbourhood but they were nothing compared to the fireworks that had just gone off in this bedroom.
I slumped down on top of Ben, taking my weight on my arms to avoid crushing him and we kissed passionately for a minute or two before I broke it and said, "Happy New Year, baby. I love you."
"Same here," was all the semi-conscious boy could manage in reply before we resumed our kiss. Eventually we broke apart a second time and my cock slipped out of Ben's hole. "Did you mean what you said about loving me?" he asked.
I considered his question carefully; how many times had I spoken those words to Megan? Too many to count. Had I ever really meant them? No, they were just the words that a guy says to a girl to keep her happy and make sure she opens her legs for him. I realised that I couldn't lie to Ben, he was too precious to me for that and then it hit me. The reason I felt that way about him was precisely because I did love him. I kissed him again, gently this time, "Yes baby," I said when I pulled back, "I really do love you."
He wrapped his arms around my neck and beamed up at me, "I love you too," he said, before pulling me in for yet another kiss.
© Hugh Cox 2017
My previous Nifty stories can be found in the authors list under Hugh Cox. Amongst them is A Dish Best Served Cold, which relates what really occurred between Professor Beattie and Mike Robertson.