Date: Mon, 18 Feb 2013 23:26:21 +0100 From: MICHAEL SOROS Subject: Breda's Little Helper Part 3 This story is a work of fiction. None of these people ever existed to the best of my knowledge and the place will be found on no map. If it is illegal to read such material in your jurisdiction then move on. If not then enter the world of Breda and Paddy McGinty whom fate has thrown together for their mutual benefit. I hope you enjoy it. Please try to make a donation to Nifty to keep this service free from advertisements. Nothing is really free. Every little helps. It was with undue haste that Brendan nudged the boy forward out the door, round the corner of the building and towards the toilet around the back. He let the boy walk in front of him a few yards so he could take in the view of the boy's beautiful round bum filling out those little white shorts. He was rock hard now and quite uncomfortable as he was unable to rearrange his cock without being too obvious. Suits really weren't designed for holding erections in place and the view of such a tight pair of shorts stuffed with a beautiful footballer's bottom at such close range was too much. The boy looked over his shoulder every few steps to see if the attractive man was still following him. He seemed just as anxious, although he wasn't quite sure what he was anxious for. The smell of the petrol on his battered old second-hand trainers didn't bother him much but he really wanted to go with the man. He finally came to the door of the toilet building and felt the man press up against him as he moved him aside just a little bit to put the key in the lock. Opening the door quickly he carefully nudged little Paddy McGinty into the hallway and over to the other door. He unlocked that one too and closed it behind it. Paddy had never seen the toilet because he had used the one in the shop which the bar customers used. Used rather carelessly judging by the smell of old beer, piss and whiskey. This one smelled quite neutral and he got the impression that it was rarely used. In fact he was right. It was indeed rarely used for its original purpose. But it had been more than used for acts 'contrary to nature' if you were to believe the local newspaper reports. The problem with the story getting out about the passing farmers and small truck drivers was that the volume of the curious increased no end and Breda was really annoyed as she was obliged to lock it. She had no choice. She never really went into it as it was not the place of a lady to hover around gents toilets so it looked like the last day of the Marie Celeste when Paddy and Brendan McIllhattan first cast eyes on it. Brendan knew all about what went on here for the best part of a year but he couldn't join in because he was too well known and only lived up the road. There were three cubicles on the right hand side and several urinals to the left. Where they were standing now was a decent empty space with two sinks. It surprised him that it was so well preserved and clean. He put his hand on the boys shoulder and told him to wait there while he went down to have a look in the cubicles. They were empty of course. Except for the walls. They were full. Full of messages and notices to meet. Having confirmed that they were empty - and they could hardly be otherwise - he walked over to one of the urinals from which he had a perfect view of the red headed boy who had started all this madness. He was always so careful and reserved. His reputation was so important to him but now he really didn't care at all. He unzipped and pulled his substantial cock from his underwear and just stood there looking at the boy. Breda's little helper wasn't in the least bit phased. He was leaning against the wall, one leg lifted up and flat on the wall. He had his right hand up his tee shirt and he seemed to be rubbing round his stomach causing the material to ride up and down as he swirled it round and round. The other hand he was running through his flaming red hair. Brendan could see no hair under his arms which made his cock leap harder. Paddy was just looking at the man's cock. He was intrigued. It was the first one he had really ever seen. Well the first man's cock he had ever seen. It looked really interesting to him but it was still a bit far away. Should he walk over and have a closer look? The man was just standing there moving his hand slowly up and down this growing piece of attractive man meat and Paddy just thought that he'd never be able to piss through that if that was his intention. But maybe that wasn't his intention. Then the penny dropped! He was showing it to him. He had to be. What a dope! What should he do? As it turned out, he didn't have to do anything. "Must be the petrol fumes" he said looking directly at Paddy. "I'll never empty my bladder like this. Maybe I'll just wait a while for it to go down." He took his hands off it, pushed his arms in the air as though just about to stretch and made sure his jacket moved back so the boy could get a full view of what he had on offer. It was a fair size too. Nothing enormous. Nothing anyone ever had to complain about but it was a nice handful. Thick rather than long with the head covered with foreskin which had moved back half way. All in all he was proud of it. It had never let him down. Always obliged and was always ready. His balls, which were still firmly inside his trousers and couldn't be seen, were large and heavy. They didn't hang low but filled a large soft sack between his legs and each ball could be clearly seen. They were excellent cum producers too. He'd been masturbating for the last 30 years or so and couldn't remember a time when they had failed to produce. He was sure they produced quite a large amount but he always wanked twice a day -or more if there was an attractive labourer on the farm milking team- so they never really had a chance to build up an cum for a day or two. But now they were hurting him somewhat as his cock was rock hard and pulling them up towards the zipper but they couldn't get out. Brendan thought better of pulling them out so the boy could see the full package. It might scare him off. He really wasn't sure how to proceed as nearly all his sexual encounters were with men or teenagers a bit older than the one in front of him and certainly a lot more streetwise than Paddy McGinty. Maybe instinct would just kick in. He wasn't sure. Although Paddy wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed he knew this wasn't a normal situation. He had tried for the last two years or so to get himself groped by a teacher or any man that looked anyway attractive. It was the main reason he had joined the soccer club and kept his clothes few and tight, but he was very unlucky. He didn't know why. He had lingered long and hard around the teacher's desk in the primary school hoping to get his bum felt up like some of the other boys but obviously he wasn't just the teacher's type. He had even been nearly an altar boy as he heard that there were sweets and money on offer from the local priest who was satisfied with a grope and a feel of the boys' bums. He wasn't attractive but it was a start. He had only been at the meeting where he was to be shown the ropes when his mother walked into the sacristy in a mini up her arse and smelling of whiskey looking for him. Once the priest realised that the hot little red head was Magdalene McGinty's son he completely lost interest. He wanted to keep his balls where they were. So mysteriously there were no openings for altar boys that day. This was as close as he had ever come to realising all his masturbatory fantasies of being naked with men. Any men really. He had no experience so had to make do with men from his mother's magazines or catalogues. Certainly not any of the real ones she brought home. Even those desperate idiots used to push him out the door with a comic rather than pull him into the bedroom so he had reached a lot of dead ends in two years. He wasn't really sure but he did think that his mother may have had something to do with it. She wasn't very protective of him but everyone everywhere they moved to (or were moved on from), knew who his mother was and had no intention of getting on the wrong side of her. A sorry state of affairs. This was his first big chance but he didn't know what to do. Should he just drop his shorts and undies? Didn't seem right in front of such a gentleman like Mr McIllhattan even though he was flashing a nice thick cock at him. It was still a gentleman's cock. What did he look like naked? He looked so well built and tall and everything he wanted in a man that he just felt like running over and grabbing hold of the man around the waist and kissing his cock. He didn't of course but thought heavily about it while unknowingly suggestively showing the now tormented man his smooth white hard stomach. Brendan knew that they wouldn't have too much time before suspicions would be roused as to what was going on in the toilet. Breda he didn't mind too much. She was practically a collaborator and he was sure she knew what was in his 'photography' magazines but she knew which side her bread was buttered on and would never say anything. He was convinced that she actually liked him in as much as she liked anyone. Still, he didn't want to push things and he didn't know what her little helper meant to her. Possibly nothing. Possibly a great deal. So he had to move quickly and with sure purpose. He popped his still rock hard piece of meat back into his voluminous trousers and saw Paddy's head move ever so slightly to the left following it. Little bugger! He left the zip open though and walked quickly over to the boy and knelt in front of him taking out his crisp white hanky. Paddy dropped his foot from the wall behind him. His intention was to put one hand on the boy's right ankle and start wiping the left trainer to remove as much of the petrol as he could. By rights the shoes should be just thrown in a bin they were that unfit for purpose. The smell from the insoles was as strong as the petrol. But as soon as he got down on one knee as though he were about to propose to the boy his unconscious desire for the boy surfaced and ran riot over his ordered prudent self-assured self. He found that he had grabbed the boy's knee with one hand and started dabbing the shoe with the other. Paddy never moved. Brendan was directly facing this fourteen year old's crotch. He could clearly see his erect penis standing straight up and tucked into the elastic of his shorts. He was totally smooth from the elastic of the shorts up to his belly button but he could make out the tip of the penis coming over the elastic. It looked like he had a well-covered foreskin. It would take nothing for him just to lean forward and feel the hard cock of the boy against his mouth and his cheek. He really wanted to press and press against it, pushing him against the wall behind him and run his face up and down that lovely little cock until the cum squired out and slowly ran down his shorts where he would be able to put his tongue out and pull it into his mouth. But he couldn't do it. He just couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead he wrapped his large rugby playing hand around the boy's leg at the knee and held it there. As there was no reaction he started to move it around in congress with the rubbing he was giving the boy's foot. Rub rub rub on the shoe. Rub rub rub on the back of the boy's lovely smooth leg. Was it even possible to be so smooth? This must be what a woman's skin must feel like - but not for long judging by the amount of razors and hair removal creams they had to use to get it like this boy's. With each rub Brendan moved his hand further up the boy's thigh. Up and down. Up further and down. Up a little further and down to the knee again. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so sexually excited and his cock was as hard as nails. As the boy was making no adverse sounds but in fact moving his legs apart very slowly, Brendan continued up the back of the boy's thigh to where it met the bottom of the shorts and the beginning of his spectacular bottom. When he reached that point he looked up at the boy almost looking for permission to continue. Even from down here he looked absolutely gorgeous but he wasn't looking down at Brendan at all. He was looking at the ceiling and seemed to have his eyes closed. As soon as Brendan's hand had stopped softly caressing the smooth boy's thigh he seemed to come out of his reverie and turned to look down at him. There was no distress in that face. Nothing but pleasure showed on that open freckled countenance. And then the big one! A bit toothy smile! He didn't say anything but turned his head back up to look at the ceiling again. Brendan had just got his green light and he was off! He stopped any pretence of trying to clean up a dirty shoe and got down on both knees placing the free hand inside the boy's thigh and started to rub it against the super soft skin. Paddy had very well developed thighs from all his footballing - a bit like Brendan's actually from all his rugby playing days. But these were soft on the outside but defined and hard underneath. He placed both his hands on the inside of Paddy's thighs and slowly moved up and down, up and down. He went further up on each stroke until his index fingers were now touching the boy's balls wrapped in his little undies. He put his fingers out and started to feel around and see what the fourteen year old had to offer. Not bad really. They seemed big enough but what were they able to produce? Anything? How was he going to find that out? His two fingers now moved around the boy's balls and down to where the elastic went in between the ball sac and the beginning of his thighs. He knew from experience that this was a very sensitive place and if the person was vulnerable in that area he could bring him to ecstasy very easily with his much practiced tongue. He put both of his index fingers into the briefs at the same time pulling them down to allow the red head's balls to drop. Slowly he caressed them. They were lovely - average he supposed for a boy his age and totally hairless from what he could feel. If there were any hair there it must be super soft because he could feel nothing. Brendan was not a man used to being on a hard floor on his knees and he was finding that it wasn't particularly enjoyable to his joints ; God knows how male prostitutes got by. He released his fingers gently from the boy's underpants, pulling them down a little inside his shorts. Without removing the shorts he pulled the undies down completely so that they were below Paddy's balls and he could feel the soft cotton of the shorts on the skin of this bottom. He had never gone without underwear before because of his erections but it did feel erotic. Brendan was towering over him now but not in a threatening way. More protective. He was a man who had just discovered something but really wasn't sure what it was. He still hadn't seen the boy's penis yet but knew that there was only a thin pair of shorts between it and his fingers but he was conscious of the time passing and that time hadn't stopped outside on the forecourt as it had in the toilet. Plenty of people coming and going from church would be calling in for their newspapers and petrol and Breda would be wondering where her little apprentice had got to. Speed was of the essence. "Turn around for me Paddy and put your hands flat on the wall" whispered Brendan. Paddy did as he was told but found having his undies pulled down below his shorts just that bit strange and restricting that he wasn't as quick or as smooth as he wanted to be. He put his palms against the wall as requested and then felt the man's breath in his left ear as he stood beside him. With his right hand he felt the boy's lovely round bum through the sheer material. Each bum cheek filled one hand perfectly. He moved his hand round and round the boy's bum getting hornier and hornier as he did so, so that he was getting rougher and rougher without realising it. Finally he took hold of the waistband of the shorts and pulled them up sharply so that he could see the bottom of the boy's cheeks and the undies peeping out the bottom of the legs. It was a great view but it couldn't last. They could hear cars coming into the forecourt and parking. Breda's shop doorbell had started to ring with customers going in and out. Someone was going to want to buy petrol. And where was Paddy McGinty? Standing in a toilet with a 6 foot 2 inch man standing beside him feeling his lovely round footballer's arse with one hand and running his other hand through this exploding armchair of hair on his head. "Paddy McGinty you young cur! Get yourself out of there and back to work! I'm not paying idlers to stand around in toilets all day doing bugger all and there's customers to be looked after. Come out here now!" It was of course the sweet dulcet tones of Breda McGovern who found herself in the middle of the Sunday morning rush with no one to help. She thought they had been gone a bit too long. Looking through the window she could see Mr McIllhattan's car gracing her forecourt. It was actually blocking access to the one pump but she didn't mind as it gave her an excuse to tell everyone that: "Mr McIllhattan, one of my very regular customers is just helping my apprentice clean his shoes. Had a bit of an accident earlier on. Always shops here you know. Has done for decades. Knows when he's getting quality service." She'd purse her lips at this stage, pull her cardigan across her bosom and put her shoulders back. Mind you it was getting a bit ridiculous now. There were three cars waiting and a few customers inside. She was just filling her ample lungs which had years of filling a voice box with air to shout obscenities at staff she thought were idling when she heard the door of the toilet bang shut and the little red head run down the side path towards her. No one being around and Mr McIllhattan still inside she took a very practiced swipe across the back of his head. The world of child rearing practices had yet to reach Ballykillferrit so the fall back for encouraging children or errant boys was a swift sharp whack across the back of the head or a bang of a belt across the arse. Worked wonders! The fact that the boy didn't actually belong to her didn't bother Breda. She felt responsible for him when he was in her care and felt it her duty to beat him out of love or she'd be out of pocket. He was too short to resist. "Now get out and fill those cars and stop dodging" she said pulling him by the ear until they got to the corner of the building and into the public eye. She promptly let him go and a smile immediately filled out her face. Two of her regulars were standing outside the door of the shop waiting and using the few minutes to call into question Breda's choice of help. They wouldn't say anything to her except maybe that she was 'very brave' to take on any of the McGinty's offspring. "It's because I care girls" she replied. "I'm just too simple hearted to pass up the opportunity to help someone in need of a hand." None of the 'girls' in question was under 70 but old habits die hard. Paddy couldn't feel his ear from having it nearly yanked out of its socket by Breda and he could still hear a loud high pitched sound from the whack she gave to the back of his head. He scratched the back of his head and made for the petrol pump where a battered old car was waiting to be filled. He'd have to wait a bit longer because Brendan's car was blocking the pump and it wasn't long enough to stretch too far. Was that only a minute ago he was in a little piece of heaven? He soon forgot the ringing in his ears when he remembered what had happened just as soon as they heard an almighty roar from Breda. "Quick, pull your underpants up and make yourself respectable looking" said Brendan adjusting his own zipper and suit. Paddy pushed himself away from the wall, put his hands down his shorts and pulled up his tight little undies. He pulled his tee shirt down as far as he could and tried to make it reach the elastic of his shorts. He quickly tucked his cock into the elastic of the waistband and stood looking into the beautiful eyes of the most handsome man he had ever seen. In reality of course his experience of handsome men was very limited and based on what his mother dragged home but still - he was handsome. He could tell even Breda thought so. The man bent down towards him, looked him in the face and said quietly: "Listen sweetie. Just do as I say. Tell Breda you'll help her out tonight if she needs it. I'll do the rest. And something special I want from you too. Tease me tonight. Do you understand? What do I want you to do?" Paddy wasn't sure what he was hearing. Help Breda tonight? He'd been here since 7 this morning. What could he do at night? And 'tease me' - what did that mean? "Can you do that for me honey?" said Brendan turning his head to one side and smiling sweetly at the boy. It was a smile that Paddy would do anything to see again. He must be coming to the bar part of the shop tonight. Tease him? How could he do that? And then he thought of his mother. Tease him? No better boy. "No problem Mr McIllhattan" replied Paddy turning to go out of the toilet. He turned his head back quickly while grabbing the door handle and said: "Sure aren't you just the most handsomest man I've ever seen Mr McIllhattan. I'll be here for you". His English wasn't the most sophisticated but he was certainly a summer's day to Brendan. Now he had to arrange for tonight. He was too horny to think of anything else. He took out his car keys and moved his car over, under the watchful gaze of Breda's two mates. Getting out, he gave a glance in Paddy's direction and smiled. He nodded to the 'girls' waiting outside the shop and went in. After the sun outside on the forecourt it took a minute or so for his eyes to readjust to the gloom. Sure enough the place was a hive of activity in as much as pensioners are ever active. He had a plan and as accommodating as he normally was he was not going to be thwarted on this one. There was too much riding on it because all his Christmases had come at once this morning. He sat down on a stool around the bar opposite Breda and stared at her with a stern determined face - so unlike his gentle composed look. Breda knew there was something up and cut her conversation short. She was learning nothing anyway. Same old nonsense. She'd learn more listening in on her customer's conversations on the payphone than she would from this lot. "Well you'll have to be going now girls. I've a lot on. People to see. Things to do. I'm not like you lot - resting on me pension beside a fire watching black and white films on TV. Some of us have to work! Business is waiting!" and she nodded across the room to Brendan McIllhattan sitting there. He didn't smile. He didn't want to encourage them. They were no sooner out the door when he walked directly over to Breda who hadn't moved from her stool. "And who rattled your cage this morning Brendan McIllhattan? You look like someone's taken your lollipop away!" "How well do you know that boy out there?" he said lightening up. Breda had a swinging brick for a heart and he wouldn't get anywhere being angry. You get more bears with honey than vinegar. "Well I know his mother is a whore. Always was. Comes from a bad family going back generations. She's a drinker and is more on her back than her feet. I doubt very much that she's too pushed about having him about. He never mentioned her once anyway. Or school. He'll not be heart surgeon material either. Dumb as an ox I'd say but good hearted and willing. Easy going enough. Why?" "I was trying to clean the petrol off his shoes and - well - to be honest with you Miss McGovern they should be just thrown in a bin. It was only the dirt holding them together. That tee shirt is supposed to be white not grey. I get the impression he's been quite neglected. He could do with putting on a bit of weight too." "Sure you could say that about half the kids in Ballykillferrit. If you give them a toffee they nearly take the hand off you as well." "Maybe, but growing up here there and everywhere without a father can't have been easy on him." "Seems to have done well enough anyway. No better nor worse than any of the rest of them around here." Breda had come to the same conclusion herself but was unwilling to concede on anything remotely concerning children to a bachelor. She knew more about raising cabbages than kids but she had her maternal instincts - even if well hidden. "Well it distresses me to see the boy cast adrift. Left to his own devices he could get into some serious trouble Breda." Trouble? Him? He could barely get in the door without effort. "I have some clothes at the rugby club that I think would fit him. Shoes, shorts, trousers that sort of thing. Couldn't be any worse than what he's wearing now. It would raise the tone of the shop if he were a bit more presentable out front for the summer don't you think?" Breda puckered her lips. She had to agree. He couldn't look much worse and it would cost her nothing. It was nice he was taking a bit of an interest in the boy. More than she would anyway but then she was carrying the weight of a business on her delicate female shoulders. She didn't have time for strays as harmless as they were. "I'll be down tonight with one or two of the casual labourers after the evening milking. Just for a few bottles. I'll bring the stuff down for him when we come. Will you keep him here for me? Will he be working in the evenings?" Being naturally suspicious of generosity by nature, Breda felt there was something she was missing in all this. She'd have to reflect on it later. She had no intention of keeping him here beyond five o clock as he'd been here since seven. And she had to pay him too - or rather his mother. That was clear from the start. She was due down at five to collect his pitiful earnings. Paddy was allowed to keep any tips he earned but most of the farmers around here were as tight as duck's arses - water tight - so there wouldn't be big celebrations in the McGinty household tonight. Doubtless the mother would squander the money straight away in the town at some pub so it was no big effort for her to keep him in the shop til Brendan arrived. It'd be nice to see him in the evening again anyway. He used to come down every Sunday evening but she hadn't seen him for years so she owed Paddy McGinty something for at least causing that. "Ah he can help me at the bar tonight then so - move a few crates, wash a glass. But I'm not paying him. I could do all that myself. And I'll have to feed him too remember that." She had just remembered a tin of sardines she had under the counter. She had charged one of her customers for it and didn't put it in the bag. He could have that for dinner. "Good woman yourself Miss McGovern. An angel in wolf's clothes! Just keep him busy and I'll bring the clothes. I'll see you this evening then so." He was making for the door when Breda called him back and reminded him that he had forgotten the box of groceries for his mother, his papers and his photography magazines. Rather distractedly he paid - paid too much actually and left the shop singing. "Very odd man that" said Breda to herself. "Nothing as queer as folk they say." From the window, she could see Paddy filling up a passing car. He was laughing and joking with the driver. The shorts were a bit indecent she supposed and the tee shirt could do with changing. Maybe Brendan had a point. She'd keep him in the shop until the labourers came down after milking. He might be useful. She had œ2 put aside for his two days work. His mother wouldn't get a penny more and she knew she'd have to have a row with her about it. Her bait would be that he could keep the tips he got from the men tonight. She had no intention of paying him. Alcohol had a most loosening effect on men's wallets she'd found and no better woman for separating drunks from their money than Breda had yet walked the hallowed ground of Ballykillferrit. Brendan's cock was seriously aching when he parked the car in the garage back at the farm. It was lunch time now and he had a few hours to wait before he could back to see his new find. He'd invite the labourers down for a drink on some pretext. They wouldn't normally go there on their own as there were never any women. He had plenty of clothes for the boy alright but he didn't have to go to any rugby ground to get them. They were here on the farm, securely hidden from his mother in his dark room in one of the old outhouses he'd converted for the purpose years ago. They were clothes he had 'come across' in his coaching days. Underwear, cricket trousers, polo shirts and shorts. Lots of shorts and all would fit Paddy McGinty. Because Brendan McIllhattan had a secret. He liked photography of course. Everyone knew that. He'd been photographing for more than 20 years yet most of his photographs had never been seen by anyone else. They were private. Particular to him. He had spent most of his adult life photographing young men. Young labouring men to be more accurate. Farm hands, soldiers on leave, tradesmen, coalmen, corner boys, etc. He had thousands of teenagers from the rugby and cricket clubs. He'd managed to get himself selected as the unpaid photographer for the local newspaper so he attended every match there was in and around Ballykillferrit. There wasn't a blond or redheaded boy within 10 miles who hadn't ended up in one of Brendan's photographs - some in compromising positions. He had a feeling that Paddy McGinty, who never flinched one bit when Brendan's hands roamed freely over his beautiful plump bottom would perhaps like to have his photograph taken. He could earn a lot more with him than he ever would with Breda. And so to his dark room to masturbate - as he so frequently did - to pictures of young men and teenagers smiling at his camera.