Date: Mon, 27 Jun 2005 00:58:38 +0100 (BST) From: John Venn Subject: Brian is Different - complete story Disclaimer: This story contains scenes of a sexual nature between boys,teenagers and/or grown men. If this form of fiction is not to your taste, is illegal where you live, or offends your sensibilities then read no further and leave now. The story is purely imaginary and bears no resemblance to any living person or persons as far as I know, much as you or I might wish! The Story is also copyright and may not be posted to any other site without the author's permission. Comments are always welcome at johnvenn1698@yahoo.co.uk ******************************************************* Brian is Different (m/t, mast) by Alexander Chapter One. Greg sat at his desk and surveyed the twenty 13-year-old boys in front of him. It was the start of a new year and although he recognised about two-thirds of the boys from last year, there were a few new ones in the group. He scanned their faces, trying to put names and reputations to them. Greg was a senior tutor in the school of about 400 boys, with special responsibility for the `behaviourally challenged' members of their society. It was a good job and Greg enjoyed it. He had a fair amount of responsibility and authority, and what was even better, the ability to more or less organise his own workload outside of his light classroom duties. Most of his time was taken up in managing the various crisis the boys managed to get themselves into on a daily basis in most cases. He rarely had any problems with them himself, mainly because he had the skill and ability to select work which both interested and educated them, outside of the normal school curriculum which these lads couldn't cope with. They were also taught in smaller groups, often even on a 1:1 basis when necessary. The result was a sort of armed truce: he could make lives hellish for those who chose to mess him about, quite pleasant for those who co-operated and made some effort to learn, no matter how slight. One new boy in particular stood out. He was smaller than the others, very blond, almost silvery hair, slim build and scruffily dressed. The sort of boy he could take to. He was, of course, a boylover. Not that anyone knew or even suspected in school: he'd taken great pains to avoid giving even the slightest hint that he was anything other than a good teacher who did his job well and took all the expected precautions regarding getting himself into compromising situations. He could think though, and his cock stirred momentarily at the innocent-looking cherub in front of him. Mentally shaking his head to clear it, he started the lesson. Well, not so much of a lesson as a start-of-year welcoming gathering and a laying down of the working parameters. The older boys who knew him half-listened as he carried on. A few were talking quietly among themselves, which Greg didn't mind too much as they'd heard it all before and weren't causing any disruption anyway. Raising his voice slightly, he said, "One thing worth bearing in mind, those of you who don't know me, is this." He paused for effect and everyone looked at him. "Life in this class can be good fun and enjoyable. At least as far as it can be in school." Again he paused for the one or two polite titters of laughter. "But." he carried on, serious now, "But. If anyone chooses to upset the routine they will take the consequences. If you're stupid enough to make me angry, or wind up your classmates, then you must be prepared to take the consequences. Physical, or otherwise." He stopped to let this sink in. One new boy, obviously the budding barrack-room lawyer type, shouted out "You can't fucking touch us. It's against the law." He was waiting for just this sort of come-back and was prepared for it. "Jason, you've been here the longest. What do you think?" "I ain't never seen you hit anyone, sir." The sniggers from the others said everything Greg couldn't. "Thank you, Jason. What are the rules then?" "If anyone plays up and makes us all loose our football or break times then we `talk' to `em outside." He was right. It was not `best practice' according to the manual, but it was straight-forward and effective. The boys on the whole respected the system and had very few problems with it. As a result, the behaviour, language and violence were a great deal less than they met with outside school in their everyday lives. They had as good a time as they could in school, with as little hassle as possible, and in return helped keep it that way. "Fuck it!" the lawyer said, "He ain't fucking about with me!" Ten minutes into lesson one, day one, and it had started. No less than I expected. "Mark?" I looked at our star footballer. "How many `fucks' are you allowed?" "None, sir." "And if there are?" "No breaks or football." "Good that's settled. Did you hear that,.... " I looked at the register. "Stephen?" "Yeah, that's my name. Don't wear it out!" Ignoring the comment, I simply said, "Fine. Let's carry on then, shall we." "Fuck you!" I heard him whisper behind his hand. I waited to see how the class reacted. I wasn't disappointed: I knew my boys well enough to know they wouldn't accept this sort of direct challenge to the group without a come back, especially not from a newcomer. >From the seat immediately behind Stephen, a fist suddenly appeared and landed two very hard knuckle raps on the back of his head. Spinning round, with clenched fists raised, the look he received from David told him he'd better not try it. David was our weightlifter. The rest of the lesson passed off peacefully, enabling me to take a closer look at blondie. He was called Brian according to his records, was in care locally as so many of our boys were, and had just been fined by the Juvenile Court for burglary. I decided to keep the newcomers back when the lesson ended to make sure they understood our rules. Stephen, a little more subdued, at least allowed me to explain in simple words he would understand where he stood. Sulkily he agreed to try and behave himself. I didn't believe him, and he knew I didn't. Still, it was nothing new, I'd seen it all before. I wouldn't change him: time and peer pressure would. As I let them go, Brian hung back a little until they'd left. "Sir," he mumbled, "I been told I gotta tell you that I can't read." I felt sorry for him: none of the boys could read very well and although we all knew, it was never mentioned. I told him not to worry, that he wasn't the only one, and I would help him as much as I could. I looked at him and ruffled his soft hair, "Don't panic, it'll work out." In that split second he looked into my eyes as he smiled, I knew that he knew who and what I was. The smile widened ever so slightly as he walked away. It took a week or so for the group to settle down to my satisfaction, the newcomers rapidly getting used to out routine and my style of management. There were one or two bruises on Stephen's face and a satisfied smirk from the older boys when they saw I'd noticed, but no one complained. Once they were working more or less normally I found the time to read through their files more carefully than I usually do; I find that school records are not that good at describing problem children in detail, mainly because it might appear that their previous teachers (or more usually schools) weren't all that good. I read Brian's with particular interest. He'd been in care for most of his life, no reason was given, but he'd moved around a good deal and had been involved in several minor incidents of violence and petty theft. Reading between the lines, he was either an intelligent troublemaker, or a victim of bullying. Despite my better judgement I made my mind up to try and get to know him better. With that end in mind I arranged that he spend an hour every day alone with me so that we could work on his reading and writing, not only in peace and quiet but also away from the others. The first lesson we had together was a good one. I sat him across the other side of the table from me and gave him several little tests to do so I could assess him. The table wasn't quite wide enough to keep our legs from touching underneath, a fact which Brian picked up quickly and I had to move a couple of times to avoid what were obviously deliberate attempts by him to keep them touching. He also spent as much time looking at me and staring with his big, beautiful eyes as he did looking at his work. At the end of the lesson I watched as he departed, trying his best to hide what was obviously an erection. I hope he didn't notice mine. The following day he chose to sit alongside me rather than opposite, and once again chose to ignore the deliberately provocative situation he put himself in. Within ten minutes he had an erection, which he ignored at first but as time progressed he repeatedly dropped a hand down and fondled it. Twice I looked at him disapprovingly and he took it away, but after the third time I ignored it and let him leave it there. When we'd finished work he went on to his next lesson, still sporting an erection, making no attempt to hide it as he adjusted it from inside his trousers to make it less obvious. I checked through his records again, trying to ferret out any information at all about his sexual proclivities, but there were none at all apart from a comment from his last teacher (a man) who noted that he was sometimes `too tactile for his own good'. The third lesson of the week started off just like the others, but as we'd made good progress so far, I decided to have a chat-type lesson. We sat on a couple of easy chairs I keep in my room for just this sort of thing and we relaxed into them. He wasn't a particularly good talker, mainly because I don't think he'd had much chance in the past to talk about himself - his likes and dislikes and so on. I did pick up however that he was something of a loner and didn't much enjoy the company of other boys, mainly because, according to him, they always got him into trouble. One of the reasons I'd elected to use the easy chairs was to avoid any physical contact with him and hopefully therefore avoid any more erections, but I was wrong. As time went by, he again put his hand into his groin and absent-mindedly started to caress his dick. I decided that this may well be for comfort as anything else. Once more, I decided not to stop him, justifying it to myself that I wanted to see just how far he would go. Apparently, there was no limit. Not once during the first half-hour did he let go of his tool, and what's more positioned himself so I just couldn't avoid watching him play with himself. He was completely unabashed in his behaviour, seemingly deriving a great deal of comfort, not to say pleasure from it. It was hard work keeping my hands off my own erection, I just hoped it wasn't as prominent as his but I had my doubts. Things didn't change for the remainder of that week, or the following one for that matter. He, for his part, seemed to enjoy being with me, and we made some good progress academically. I also enjoyed his company, and it wasn't only for the lessons! I spent a good many hours turning things over in my mind, trying to work out how to handle the situation. A part of me, the biggest part if I were honest, said not to do anything, and see how things developed. Much to my surprise I even allowed myself to imagine that just possibly we might be able to take things further, but I dismissed this thought just as soon as it arrived. Chapter Two. Monday came round, and I'd arranged to see Brian for the first lesson in the afternoon. When he turned up, I was amazed to see him wearing his PE shorts, with his school T-shirt on top. There was a nominal school rule forbidding this, but many boys ignored it if they had a PE lesson before or after an academic one. I made no comment, except to think to myself that life wasn't getting any easier. He sat next to me at the table as he worked, one hand in its usual place, but this time petting a very visible boner. I judged it to be about four or five inches long from where I was sat, and pointing up towards his navel. This time I had no choice but to move mine from its painful angle. All I got for this was a wicked grin from Brian, almost saying `I knew I'd get you to do it eventually'. I smiled back at him, but never said a word. We were reading from his book a little later, and he'd moved his chair closer to mine so we could both read it. Our thighs were touching, but I didn't object this time. Suddenly I became conscious of a hand on my leg; he'd moved the one from his groin and was resting it on my thigh. I looked at him and was about to tell him to move it when he asked me what something meant in his reading book. I made the fatal mistake of answering that question and ignoring his hand, and by the time I'd explained the word, it was too late. He gave me one of his most disarming smiles and said, "Thank you," pressing his hand firmly on my leg as he did so. I was lost. I don't think there was any turning back from this point, much as I knew I should have done, but the temptation was far too great. I think he knew that too because his hand remained there for the rest of the lesson, occasionally even stroking my leg with his fingers. I never even thought of asking him to move it. At the end of school, I was sat at my desk marking when the door opened to admit Brian, still in his PE gear. I looked at him, and pleased though I was to see him, asked him what he wanted. "Sorry, Sir, but I thought I'd got football after school today and I haven't and they're not coming to pick me up for another hour. Can I wait in here with you?" I knew he wasn't telling me the whole truth, he didn't live that far away and could easily have walked home in fifteen minutes, but I ignored this, grateful in some ways that the episode this morning hadn't seemed to put him off being alone with me. The marking was forgotten as I turned to face him. He was sat on the table in front of me, hands on his knees, legs slightly apart, just looking at me and smiling slightly. I could just make out what looked like white briefs hugging his upper thighs. "Had a good day?" I asked, hoping to take my mind off what I was thinking. "Yeah, OK thanks. I liked it best with you this morning, it was good." I wasn't sure whether he meant the reading or the other thing, I chose to think it was the reading. "Great. Your reading and writing are getting better already, aren't they?" "Oh, that. Yeah, I `spose they are. I hadn't thought about it much." Alarm bells rang in my head; it wasn't the reading that he'd liked about my lesson then. I silenced the bells and smiled at him. In return he gave me a magnificent beaming grin, and was going to say something but changed his mind. Instead he opened his legs wider and put his hand in his crotch. I stared at him, fascinated at his boldness and said nothing except, "Be careful, the door's still open. People will see you." I expected him to move his hand, but instead he jumped off the table, ran to the door and pushed it closed before bouncing back on the table, legs spread even wider apart and his fingers resting on his erection again. "Do you always do that?" I asked, nodding in the direction of his groin. "Sometimes, but not often, Only with people I like anyway. Don't mind do you?" I thought for a split-second before telling him that I didn't mind, but he shouldn't do it when other people are around. "I haven't," he said, "I've only done it when there's just you and me. In any case, it only gets hard when I'm with you." He said this with complete openness and frankness: he could have been talking about football for all the difference it made. "Yes. Well, you'll still have to be careful." "OK," he grinned and continued stroking his dick even more blatantly if that were possible. We chatted about odds and end for another ten minutes before he changed tack completely and said, "You've got a hard on as well, haven't you?" I flushed bright red. I had, of course, and had had one ever since he came in the room. I didn't deny it and simply said, "Yes. It's very difficult not to get one when you're sat next to me playing with yours all the time." He laughed lightly but said nothing, neither did he stop toying with himself. "What did your other teachers say when you behaved like this in front of them?" "Ain't never done it before, not with teachers anyway. I've not liked any of `em in that sort of way." "But you've done it before then?" I enquired. This time it was his turn to be embarrassed. Glowing redly, he said, "Just once or twice. I sometimes get a funny feeling when I'm with some people and I can't seem to help it." Now he was being serious and so I decided to follow it through. "Can I ask you something? Something personal?" "Yeah, OK." he responded after a slight hesitation. "Have you ever, you know, got into any trouble by doing that?" I again nodded at his boner. "No. Never. But I've messed about a bit though." He smiled at me and gave his dick a meaningful squeeze for my benefit, re-enforcing what he'd just told me. He went on to tell me that he'd messed about some with the other boys in the different homes he'd been in, and much to my surprise, one of the adult carers as well. I then asked the obvious question. "Do you like doing it?" "Yes." was the simple answer. "Do you?" he then added, looking directly at me. I was not surprised at the question I suppose, but the open directness of it shook me to the core. I guess tact and sublety weren't in his vocabulary! I'd already made my mind up that if he was honestly offering to `mess about', then I wouldn't refuse the invite. Stupid and dangerous I know, but on the other hand he had done all the running so far and he was seemingly quite keen to take it further. If he was as anxious as that, then he probably was also able to keep things to himself - he'd done it in the past as he just admitted. "Well," I said slowly, "Perhaps. A long time ago though, when I was your sort of age." This brought another beam to his face and he started to swing his legs as he slid his hand inside his shorts and stroked his cock even more firmly now. I was much too aroused now to think clearly and decided to go for it. "Listen," I continued, "If you like I'll take you home tomorrow after school and we can talk then. But of course ......" He interrupted me by saying, "I know, I ain't stupid - don't tell anyone." This suited us both: he had to go home now anyway, and the delay until tomorrow would give us both time to think and make sure that we both wanted to take things further. Chapter Three. The following day during our group lesson, there were no problems with anyone for a change, and I was glad to notice that Brian kept himself to himself. It was the same during our one-to-one lesson as well, the only comment being made as he left the classroom was that he would see me straight after school. After school however was different. When he came into my room he closed the door carefully behind him and came across to my desk where I was working. After our conversation of yesterday, my cock gave a little lurch inside my trousers as he walked across the room. At least he'd turned up, which was his choice, and the odds of things developing from here suddenly got a lot better. He picked up a chair from one of the classroom tables and dragged it across to where I was sitting. He sat down, pulling himself as close to me as he could without actually getting on my lap. Now that would have been nice, but this was neither the time nor the place unfortunately. "What you doin'?" he asked, looking round my desk. "Nothing now. I was marking, but I've almost finished. Want a lift home?" "Yeah. But not yet. I got about an hour before I said I'd be home." "Don't they wonder where you are or what you're doing?" I asked, curiously. "No, not really. They pretty well leave us alone as long as we're there for meals, or back indoors before it gets dark." "I see. What do you want to do then?" "Can we go back to your house? I'd like that lots." I hadn't bargained for that. Of all the possibilities that I'd conjured up over the past couple of days, that one hadn't even entered my mind. I would have liked nothing better of course and was within an ace of agreeing to it, but changed my mind. "I don't think that's a good idea, not today anyway. Want to come for a ride in the car?" He didn't look too disappointed at not going back to the house and smiled when I offered a ride instead. "OK. I'll meet you at the far end of the playing fields in about ten minutes?" he said, jumping off the chair. The little tyke had already worked that bit out! It would not have been a good idea for me to be seen taking Brian home in my car, not without telling someone why. I smiled and said I'd be there as soon as I could. Fifteen minutes later we were driving out of town into the countryside, not really having a clue where we were going. I wasn't in any great hurry anyway, I wanted to spend some time talking to him first. He didn't waste much time on talking himself; within seconds he'd slid over towards me as much as he could and was nestling against my side, one hand already holding his best friend through his trousers. I laughed a little, and nodding at it, I said, "Don't you ever leave it alone?" He laughed back and said, "Sometimes, but not when I haven't got to. I like feeling it." We drove in silence for another five minutes, by which time we were well out of town, drifting through the country lanes. "Wanna see it?" he asked, turning his bright little face towards me. "You sure?" I asked, looking back at him. This was the last step as far as I was concerned; once we'd got that far, there would definitely be no turning back for either of us. Without a moments hesitation he nodded and hastily pushed his zip down and thrust his hand inside his trousers. After a bit of wriggling about, he pulled his beautifully erect dick out through the fly. It was magnificent. About five inches long, circumcised and about an inch in diameter, it seemed almost to glow pearl-like in the light. I gasped in awe and almost whispered, "That's beautiful." He beamed delightedly and slid down as far as the seatbelt would allow, spread his legs a little and looked down at his gently throbbing prick. "Touch it if you like. I don't mind." I dropped a hand from the steering wheel and folded it around his warm, silky-smooth shaft, feeling every magnificent fibre of it, fixing the sensation in my mind. It was extremely difficult concentrating on my driving and watching my hand toy with his boyhood at the same time. He was obviously enjoying it almost as much as I was. He was leaning back in the seat now, eyes closed and a blissful smile on his face, low moans escaping from his mouth. My guess was he'd been waiting for this for a long time. "That OK?" I whispered. "Yeah. Oh, yeah." he sighed. "That's fuckin' good." I ignored the obscenity on the grounds that it was probably the only thing he could say. I had to let go of him for a second or two as I negotiated my way round a parked car: his eyes flashed open the instant I released my grip, and he automatically covered his groin area with both hands. Once round the obstacle he moved them away and gave me an inviting glance, nodding at his erection. I replaced my hand and gave him a gentle squeeze. "Can I hold yours?" he mumbled, pleadingly. I nodded in reply, without taking my eyes off the road. I opened my legs as far as I could and waited for his tiny hand to find its target. The electric shock I felt as he touched me for the first time made me swerve a little on the road. He ran his fingers up and down my full seven inches three or four times, eventually coming to rest with them spread out, spaning the whole length through my trousers. I felt wonderful and was conscious of pre-cum leaking like mad from my cockhead. Moaning slightly, I slid down the seat a little to give him some more room. It was only seconds later I felt his other hand trying to slide my zip down, but it got stuck after the first inch or two. In any case by now I'd decided that if we were going to mess about like this, there was no way we should be doing it whilst I was driving! Hurriedly, I tried to think of somewhere close by we could stop for a while, out of harm's way. There was nowhere I could think of immediately, but as I was turning off the main road I spotted a little track leading into a field. As quickly as I could, I reversed down it and parked behind some trees, far enough away not to be seen from the road. Turning the engine off, I unfastened my seat belt and twisted round to face Brian. I wanted to ask him just once more if he really wanted to do this, but didn't have the courage: I couldn't have stopped myself anyway. What we were about to do was about as wrong as anything could be, but I don't think either of us could give a damn at that point. I unzipped my trousers completely and leaned back. Brian was there like a shot, his hand worming its way inside my fly almost before I got comfortable. The question of him wanting or not wanting to do it was academic. If I thought the electric shock I had when he first touched me through my trousers was bad, the one I got when his delicate fingers touched the skin of my dick was ten times worse. It'd been months since anyone other than myself had handled my dick and it was something I'd missed terribly. Now here I was, not only being fondled, but by a beautiful 13-year old boy to boot! I almost creamed myself there and then. In a dream-like trance, I worked my hand across to Brian's tool and started to stroke it slowly. "Can we get in the back?" I heard Brian ask from a million miles away. "It'll be better." "I can do better than that," I replied, struggling to sit up. One of the reasons I'd bought this car was that the two front seats could be adjusted to lay right back, almost level with the back ones. Up until now I'd never had reason to take advantage of them, but now I was grateful I'd thought about it when I got the car. It took a couple of minutes, but once done, the inside of the car looked rather like a quite presentable bed. We settled ourselves down and lay facing each other, hands reaching down to our exposed pricks. "Mmmmm, that's nice," Brian sighed, stretching himself out as he stroked my dick sensuously. He stopped for a moment , unfastened his belt and pushed his trousers and briefs down to his knees, exposing his pubescent, hairless groin and superbly erect dick. His skin was perfection, not a mark or hair on it anywhere, his missile standing vertically from a pair of magnificent round testicles in perfect proportion to his cock. I fell in love with it straightaway. "Come, on," he moaned, "Hurry up. It's your turn." Wordlessly I scrambled to undo my pants and thrust them down as far as I could, the cool air hitting my overheated genitals and making me shiver a little. I stared down at myself, watching my dick beat time with my heart and noticing the drops of pre-cum shining on my uncut cockhead. Brian took hold of me with both hands, one cupping my balls and the other grasping my prick firmly as if grabbing hold of a long-lost friend. We turned to face each other once more, inching closer to each other. I will never forget the next few minutes as long as I live. If I thought I was frustrated, Brian must have been a lot more so. Frantically his hands roamed everywhere they could reach, feeling every square inch of naked flesh he could, staring wide-eyed at my dick as he did so. Hot just wasn't in it - he was delirious with happiness. I closed my eyes in ecstasy as I savoured his attentions; it felt as if he had four sets of fingers fondling me all at once, It was truly mind blowing, and I bitterly regretted not taking a chance and going back to my house. Forcing myself back to reality, I found his dick and noticed just the merest hint of pre-cum on the end of it before I began to stroke it, gently at first, but unable to restrain myself, rapidly built up speed, aware that I was extremely close to cumming. With an immense strength of will I put a restraining hand over his fist and stammered out, "Wait a second, I don't want to cum just yet." I concentrated on bringing him to his orgasm, which took all of three strokes before he gasped and said, "Now!" He jerked me off with two or three strokes and together we shot our too-long delayed loads all over each other, my seven or eight shots being matched by his, in number if not in quantity. I think we both yelled out as we climaxed, I wouldn't know. All I was aware of was that I'd had the quickest, best and most erotic cum I'd had for years. I was exhausted, and took several deep breaths before I felt able to speak. When I did come too, I was amazed to find that we were still both holding on to our now softened dicks, Brian breathing just as deeply as I was. "That. Was. Fucking. Awesome." he said between breaths. "Yeah," was all I could manage. We lay there, gathering our strength for a few minutes just staring at the roof of the car, neither having the strength to move. Eventually, feeling a bit better, I put an arm under Brian's neck and pulled him to me and gave him a big hug. I would have kissed him, but drew back at the last moment, not knowing how he'd take it. Instead I whispered, "Thank you," in his ear. "S'OK," he replied, "Good, wasn't it. Wanna do it again?" There was no way I could manage a repeat performance, not just yet anyway, my dick was still soft unlike Brian's. "I couldn't. Could you?" I said quietly. "Dunno. Probably." I started to stroke him again, this time encouraging him to lay on his back and allow me to concentrate on giving him as good a time as I could. Playing with his adorable little balls, I gently jerked him off, allowing my fingers to stimulate his adorable cockhead as much as I could. With each stroke I made, his lissom body jerked a little and a groan escape from his lips. He was in heaven as I worked his dick lovingly, watching my every move intently. I made a ring with my thumb and first finger and gently rubbed them over his cockhead, feeling his dick twitch each time I changed direction. It wasn't very long before I felt it stiffen up and his balls contract as he approached yet another orgasm. Without warning, his hips bucked up, his legs and arms went rigid and he shot out another three or four rocket-propelled spurts straight upwards, only being stopped as they hit the roof of the car. Even when he'd shot his last bolt, his thin body shuddered and shook as he calmed down. He looked at me, eyes glazed, and grinned broadly, completely speechless. I grabbed some tissues from the glove box and tenderly cleaned him up, making sure every last drop of cum was wiped up. Meanwhile, he'd gathered himself together and lay back, arms under his head. "That was fu.... brilliant!" he said. "The best ever!" I glanced at the clock and realised that we couldn't stay here much longer. I gave him another hug and said that we aught to get dressed and make our way back. There was only the slightest look of disappointment as I said this, but he nevertheless reached down and pulled his pants and trousers up as I did the same. On the way back, we chatted about everything else except what we'd just done - it was obviously our secret. As we got nearer the town, and within a few minutes of his home, I had an idea. "Do you know where I live?" I asked. It wasn't such a daft question as it might at first appear. I'd lived in my house for a good few years, and I suppose there were a lot of pupils who knew where I lived, it wasn't a particular secret. Luckily, it'd never cause me any problems. "Sort of," he replied. "I know the name of the road, but not the number or where it is." "How'd you know that?" I asked. "Saw it once on a letter on your desk, but I can't remember the number though." I made a slight detour and drove past my house. "There," I pointed, "The one with the green front door. Number 27." He looked at it, obviously fixing it in his mind. As we pulled away, I carried on, "If you like, you can come round tomorrow. I'm not going out." I looked at him sideways as I said this, watching for his reaction. There was the briefest of self-satisfied smiles as he said that he'd try. I hoped with all my heart I'd not made a bad mistake. Two minutes later we were at the end of his road and I pulled into the kerb. "OK then?" I said as brightly as I could. "See you in school tomorrow?" He leaned over towards me and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me, but at the last second he stopped and whispered, "Yeah. I'll be there, and thanks, it was fantastic." Without further ado, he opened the door and jumped out, waving goodbye as he ran down the street. Chapter Four. The following day, although as busy for me as it usually was, nevertheless seemed to drag by incredibly slowly. I met Brian a couple of times in the corridor, and once in class, and thankfully he never even hinted at what we'd done last night or the get-together planned for today. In fact I wasn't all that sure about yesterday myself, in some ways it seemed as if I'd dreamed it all. My illusion was shattered though when he left my room at the end of the lesson. Having made sure he was the last to leave, he gave me a broad smile and whispered, "See you later!" before running to catch his mates up. I don't know why, but I'd assumed that if he was going to pay me a visit, it would be straight after school and so I rushed through the essential work I had to do, and left the building as quickly as I could, getting home about half-an-hour after school closed. There was no sign of him. In some ways I was relieved, assuming he'd changed his mind and thought better of it; at least I wouldn't be tempted again I thought, it was just a one-off. Still, I would give him an hour just in case, and if he hadn't turned up by then, I would forget all about it and make some tea for myself. The hour passed slowly, and as he hadn't come, I went into the kitchen and made my evening meal. It was getting dark, about seven o'clock when the front door bell rang. When I opened it, I couldn't see anyone at first, but suddenly Brian appeared from behind the bushes in my garden and pushed his way past me into the house. Glancing up and down the road and seeing no one in sight, I closed the door and went to join Brian who was standing behind me, grinning widely. "I made it!" he said happily. "And no one saw me." I guided him to the living room and I sat down in my big easy chair. Brian sat on the arm alongside me, his legs spread either side and an arm along the back. "I'd given you up," I said. "What happened?" "Sorry," he said, "I should've told you. I went home first and got my tea. We can stay out longer after tea and I don't have to be back until about nine o'clock. That gives us a couple of hours instead of just a few minutes." It was good thinking on his part, but I wasn't too sure about it: he'd confused me a bit by turning up like this and I was unprepared. But, he was here now and I was delighted. " `S a nice house," he said looking round the room. "Can I have a look round?" I got out of the chair and took him on a tour of the ground floor, which didn't take long: a living room, dining room, kitchen and laundry room. I was not intending to let him see the first floor as there was only the bedrooms and bathroom, but before I could stop him, he was running up the stairs in front of me. I watched as he opened each door in turn, poked his head round the door and looked around. Still grinning, he finished his tour and skipped downstairs back to the easy chair in the living room. "It's a nice house isn't it?" he said, looking at me. "Yeah, I think so." He sat there for a while in silence, obviously thinking. One of his hands slid down to his jeans and onto his cock, firstly adjusting it and then gently stroking it over his trousers. I watched as it hardened up, tenting his jeans up beautifully. He glanced at me once or twice and grinned wickedly, taking the opportunity to stare down at the growing erection in my pants. He slid off the arm of the chair and on to my lap, just as if it was the most natural thing in the world and put his hands on my shoulders, staring straight into my eyes. He wriggled about slightly until his butt was squarely over my boner, confirming it by clenching his cheeks together a few times. "Wanna do it?" he said quietly. I nodded: there was nothing else in the universe I wanted at that moment and there was no way I could speak. Brian jumped up from my lap like a two-year old, giving my rock-hard dick a painful squeeze as he did. Without waiting for another second, he stripped off his T-shirt and bent down to remove his shoes and socks: we were obviously going to get naked. The living room was most certainly not the place for us to do this, and despite my earlier promise to myself, decided that the bedroom was the only place to be. Before I could stop him, he sat on the floor and almost tore his jeans and briefs off before standing up again in front of me, his beautiful hairless cock pointing straight at me, his face wreathed in an evil grin. This was just what he'd been waiting for. "Not here," I said urgently, "The windows!" He put his hand up to his mouth in horror as he realised he could be seen by anyone who happened to look in at that particular moment. Flushing bright red with embarrassment he hid himself behind the living room door and looked at me. I couldn't help but laugh at him. "Come on," I said, "Let's go upstairs quickly." As I walked past him, he leapt up at me, wrapping his legs round my waist and holding me tightly round the neck. He leaned back to look into my face, still grinning. His face said it all: this was just what he wanted and he couldn't wait any longer. I felt his iron-hard cock pressing into my stomach as he gripped me with his legs. Somehow I managed to struggle upstairs with this angelic waif clinging to me like a magnet, my hands firmly cupping his deliciously firm butt. Turning right at the top of the stairs I opened the door to the spare room and dropped him on the unmade bed. He bounced on his back, his cock still standing proud, begging for attention. We looked at each other, unsmiling. This was serious business now, not to be taken lightly. I stared down at him, letting my eyes wander down from his head to his toes. He was absolutely perfect in every respect, there wasn't a flaw on his golden skin anywhere. His mane of silvery-blond hair made him look even younger than his 13 years, the only clue to his real age being his perfectly formed five inch penis and balls, with I noticed for the first time, a few wisps of the same silver-blond hair as he had on his head. It was a truly awe-inspiring sight and I became acutely conscious of my dick leaking pre-cum inside my briefs. "Come on, stop staring and get undressed," he whispered. "Hurry up, I can't wait much longer." He watched impatiently whilst I undressed, dropping my clothes where I stood. It'd been months, if not a couple of years since I had been naked in front of anyone else and I felt more than slightly embarrassed as I walked across to the bed and Brian. The one thing which wasn't self-conscious was my still dripping cock, like a moth to a flame I was being drawn irresistibly forwards. I sat on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do next: I knew exactly what I would have liked to do, but so far Brian and I had only jerked each other off and I wasn't sure what else he could, or would, do. There was no need to worry. He put a hand on my shoulder and gently pulled me down on the bed. The smile had gone now: he was in desperate need of physical contact and some TLC and it showed. Pulling a blanket over us both, he sighed deeply and visibly relaxed. Once we'd made ourselves comfortable, he wriggled himself as close as he could and hugged me painfully tight. I looked into his exquisite eyes and saw a tiny tear forming in the corner. "Just hold me for a minute will you?" he whispered. I was more than willing to oblige and cuddled him to me, stroking his downy hair. "That's nice," he whimpered, "Keep on doing it." I leaned over and took his face in my hands and kissed him on the forehead. "For as long as you like," I replied. We lay like this for ages until he decided he wanted a change. Sliding his body on top of me, he rested his cock alongside mine and stretched out, clamping his arms under my neck. "Can I kiss you?" he said, almost inaudibly. "Please?" Putting a hand on the back of his head, I drew him closer until our lips met. We pecked at each other a few times, the electricity sparking between us like lightning. Then he lost it completely. Holding me by the ears, he forced his tongue between my lips and attacked me savagely, writhing and twisting like a demon. After the initial shock, I returned the kisses with equal fervour, my hands gripping strands of his hair tightly between my fingers. This was a new Brian, one I hadn't seen before; a passionate, animalistic Brian. As we kissed his hips bucked up and down frenziedly, way out of his control, massaging our erections together as if the end of the world was coming. Somewhere in the mists of my over-wrought mind came the thought that we were going too fast, much too fast, if we were to last more than another two minutes. I pushed his head away from mine and said, "Slow down, slow down, we've got ages yet." He shook his head and said in a rush, "No. Just give me a minute, it'll be OK." He resumed his kissing with renewed vigour and started snaking his hips, driving them into me with a force I wouldn't have believed possible from one so young. The inevitable soon happened, and with an animal-like scream he shot a load of hot, creamy cum from his granite-hard prick. With each spasm he thrust hard against me, his tongue urgently dancing with mine. After the sixth or seventh spasm, he eased off and collapsed on top of me, breathing heavily and visibly sweating. "That was brilliant, but now we can have some real fun!" I looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?" I asked quietly. He slid off and lay alongside, one arm over my chest, his knee resting on top of my still super-hard dick. He giggled slightly and kissed me softly. "I like to cum quick first, then we can take our time and have some real fun before I cum again." This boy, angelic though he looked, was certainly no innocent I thought. Wonder where he learned that? Having calmed down, we contented ourselves by fondling and caressing each other tenderly, taking the occasional kiss and exploring each other delicately, it was magical for us both. Brian was a changed boy now, having expurgated his initial passion he concentrated on simply enjoying himself. There were a thousand questions I would have liked to ask him, but now wasn't the time, I was far too aroused by his ministrations, both oral and manual: he was like a python, his arms and legs were all over the place, he just couldn't get enough. His cock was now hard again, as solid as I'd seen it in our short acquaintance, but he appeared to ignore it as he satisfied himself with my body, happy in our closeness. Taking a breather for a while, I nestled him in my arms and gave him a hug. "You like this, don't you?" I said quietly. He looked up at me and nodded, "Yeah. This is the best." He grasped my red-hot dick in his cool, soft hand and held it, giving it the occasional rub, his own tool resting on my thigh. "What do you like doing best?" he said, gazing at the pre-cum oozing from my prick. I'd been half-expecting this question; it was one which I wanted to ask him, but was afraid of spoiling the atmosphere for us. I didn't know what to say to him; I liked what we were doing now immensely, and would have been more than happy if that was all we did. I enjoyed sucking and being sucked as well; fucking I wasn't too sure about though. Having tried it three or four times in the past, I'd found it not only a bit painful, but also unsatisfying as well. I fitted his dick in the palm of my hand and felt its warmth and softness; if only it could talk! "Most things I guess," I answered, "I like what we're doing now." "Mmmmmm." he mused. "Ever been sucked off?" "Yeah," I replied cautiously. "Have you?" "Couple of times, but not lately though. Been fucked as well." That was interesting, I thought, I'd like to hear more about that sometime. "What about you?" I queried. "How long have you been doing this sort of thing?" "Dunno really, ever since I can remember I suppose." Retaining his hold on my dick he stretched out alongside me and rested his head on my shoulder so we could talk. I learned that he'd been in care since he was about six or seven years old and had lived in lots of different places, mostly in group homes from what I could work out. Ever since he'd become sexually aware, which must've been when he was about nine or ten I guess, he'd shared his body with other residents as they all did. There had been no question of abuse or anything, just that boys living together as they did, followed their basic instincts and explored each other with a sort of easy freedom that was liked and partaken of by all. As time went on, he explained, he learned that some boys liked messing about more than others, and he was one of those: there was hardly a day went by when he didn't have some fun with someone or other and it became a well-liked routine. It struck me then that he never thought of what we were doing, or what he'd done in the past, as abuse - he simply assumed it was a normal part of growing up. OK, he knew it was a secret sort of thing, but that only made it more exciting. When he got to the age of 11 or 12, he went on, most boys sheered away from the games he enjoyed and it was harder to find people to mess about with, and hence the fun he enjoyed so much became less and less frequent. It got even worse, he told me, when he was moved to where he lives now. He didn't know anyone there, and apart from just one other boy, he'd actually done very little `messing about' as he put it. The boy he got on with was much older than him, about 18 I think he said, and that was what had turned him on to older men. He blushed slightly as he added that I was the first `old man' he'd actually done more than wank off with. "Why me then?" I asked, intrigued. "When I first saw you, I sort of felt that you would like it and would do it with me." He grinned and added, "I was right, wasn't I?" So that was it; his whole life story explained, at least his sexual side anyway. I guessed that it wasn't only the sex he craved, but also the physical contact and attention. Luckily, he'd never been told just how unusual his experiences were, or how other people would view them. He'd worked out of course that whatever he did had to be kept secret, if only because he'd be stopped if anyone found out what he was doing. I breathed a sigh of relief as he finished his story, not only because it confirmed that he was more than happy doing what we were doing, but also that it was his choice and was apparently more than willing for it to continue. Surprisingly I didn't feel sorry for him; in fact I thought how level-headed and sensible he was. He knew what he was like, knew what he wanted, and was astute enough to know that it had to be kept to ourselves. "So," he said, grinning at me, "Now you know all about me, gonna suck it for me?" He didn't give me a chance to say anything. Twisting his body round, he knelt astride me and presented his throbbing boner to my face, brushing his moistly purple dickhead against my lips. Putting my hands gently on his hips I eased his swollen dick into my mouth, slowly and carefully. It was wonderful. He moaned ecstatically from somewhere above me and pushed his hips forward, anxious to bury his pride and joy in my eager mouth. Once there he started to rock backwards and forwards slightly, rubbing the full length of his dick against my tongue and my lips, moaning each time he moved. His hands tightened their grip on my shoulders as he lost himself in his own world, extracting every last ounce of delight from the experience. I understood now why he wanted to cum so quickly once he'd started: there wasn't the frantic urgency there would have been otherwise and he concentrated on the job in hand - or rather mouth! With infinite patience he very slowly rode my face, savouring every second. I could taste the remnants of cum from his last effort, mixed with a slightly acid taste of urine, a combination I found incredibly erotic. I felt one of his hands grasp my own throbbing cock and rub it, keeping up the same satisfying rhythm. His moans and groans increased in volume as he steadied himself to a regular cycle of pushes and pulls, each time burying himself as far into my throat as he could before withdrawing until his cockhead was pressing against my lips. I washed his tongue and sucked for all I was worth, my entire body wracked with an all-consuming passion, unable to believe that all this was happening - I was sure that I would awaken soon from my dream, only to find myself alone in the bed, with only the results of a wet dream for company. My reverie was interrupted by Brian, bringing me back to reality. "Wanna cum?" he said between gasps, "I think I'm nearly there." I mumbled a `yes', unable and unwilling to let go of his dick for even a second. It was now I received my second shock of the evening. With only the briefest of pauses, he spun himself round on my body and presented his dick at my lips again, but before I could absorb it, he'd dived down and taken almost my entire cock in his mouth. I felt him shudder as I touched the back of his throat, but he instantly withdrew a little and started to give me the blow job to end all blow jobs. Just like before, he attacked me in a frenetic passion, holding my cock with one hand and sucking for all he was worth, working his tongue round and round my dickhead, swallowing my pre-cum avidly. With an immense effort I resumed work on him, gagging slightly on the incredible amount of juice he'd produced in just the short time we were apart. Aware that it wouldn't be very long before I climaxed I concentrated on Brian, stimulating the base of his boner as I sucked. "Mmmmmm. Mmmmmm. Mmmmm," I felt him moan, which I took to mean that he was coming. Almost instantly his dick swelled up, throbbed a couple of times and he deposited another mass of his beautiful sperm in my mouth, followed immediately by my own wads of love juice jetting down his throat. There seemed to be gallons of it, neither of us able to keep pace with the speed and amount of our efforts. Shaking and shuddering together, we drained ourselves dry, urging the last few drops out with a last, desperate thrust. Slowly, Brian cuddled up to me and kissed me on the cheeks. "See," he said between gasps, "I told you it'd be better didn't I?" "Yeah, you were right, that was marvellous," I replied still fighting for air. We kissed lazily as our bodies replaced the oxygen we'd starved it of, wiping the sweat from our brows with the bedsheet. "That was good. It's been ages since I done it like that, it was bloody brilliant!" he said softly. I couldn't argue with him, it'd been a long time, a very long time, since I'd been with anyone at all, let alone a little satyr like Brian. As we nestled together in our post-coital bliss, I stroked his back and pecked at his face. "Thank you!" I whispered, "Thank you!" He grinned at me wickedly and replied, "Glad I came?" He was perfectly aware of the double-entendre and pleased with himself, waited for my reaction. "Oh, yeah. You can cum like that anytime you like," I smiled back at him. "Anytime you like!" Half an hour later, we were dressed and sat in my kitchen having a drink of coffee, grinning like Cheshire cats at one another. "I'd better go," he said. "I gotta be back soon." I offered to drive him home, but wisely he turned the offer down and said that he'd better not `just in case'. As he was happy to walk home, I accepted his judgement and ruffled his hair. After a brief discussion, he suggested that he leave via the back door as it was less open to public view and there was less chance of being spotted. Again, I thought this was a good idea. "Can I come round again tomorrow?" he asked, now staring at the bottom of his empty cup. There was no question. "Of course, of course!" I whispered. He brightened up instantly and asked me to leave the back door open so he could let himself in as soon as he arrived. I was more than willing to do this, and gave him a last deep kiss before he departed. Exhausted, I collapsed on the sofa in the living room, watching the TV with open, but unseeing eyes, my brain a tornado of breathtaking, erotic images. I would have difficulty in sleeping tonight I mused. Chapter Five. Brian came round regularly after that, almost every day in fact, and we grew closer, becoming friends as well as lovers. I think he needed the care and love that I gave him just as much as the sex, in fact we didn't always have full sex together as once in a while either one or the other of us just didn't feel like it. On those occasions we would be happy just sat on the sofa together kissing once in a while and simply holding one another. We'd been `together' for a couple of months when the first school holiday came round. He was a little pissed off at first as he assumed that we couldn't get together, but I soon changed that. I suggested that instead of coming round in the evenings, he tried to come and see me during the day. As it turned out, this was easier than we thought. The people who looked after the boys in the home were quite happy for them to be out all day as it meant they had fewer people to get under their feet as they cleaned and so on. The only proviso was that they didn't get into any trouble of course: those that did were grounded, which was a pain on both sides but had to be done. This was where Brian could have had a problem as he had a reputation for getting himself into trouble when he had nothing to do. For the first couple of days they insisted he came home at lunch-time just to check he hadn't got into any bother. After the first two days though, they decided to take a risk and let him have his freedom. There was no trouble of course as he spent the time with me, although they never knew this; they were quite happy to believe him when he said that he was in the park or swimming or something similar. I don't think they cared all that much, just as long he was out of their hair and being careful. Anyway, the first time he spent the whole day with me, he was happy enough to help me do odd jobs around the house, watch TV and of course have some time together in bed. We did much the same the following day and we relaxed into a comfortable routine. By now I was perfectly happy to let him have the run of the house, something which he thoroughly enjoyed. The only condition I put on him was that he never went through the drawers in my desk or bedroom as there were odds and ends there I'd rather he didn't see, and as far as I know he never did - I think he knew he had too much to loose if I found he couldn't be trusted with something as simple as that. The sex we had got better and better as we grew used to each other, we could sort of sense when we both wanted some fun and knew just what to do with each other to get the most out of it. The only thing I found he didn't like was being touched too much on his butt. He never said I couldn't, he just moved my hand away when he'd had enough, which was usually when I tried to explore round his hole. We were laying in bed one afternoon when this topic came up indirectly. He'd had an attack of leg cramps and I was rubbing some oil into his thighs to ease the pain when I felt him tense up each time I went anywhere near his butt. He'd done this before of course, but this time I decided to try and find out why being touched around his butt distressed him. "You OK?" I asked as I rubbed the oil into the top of his thighs. The need for massage had long since passed, we were just enjoying ourselves, Brian thoroughly enjoying the close physical contact just as much as I was. "Yeah," he sighed, folding his arms under his head and closing his eyes. I moved my hands up a little and rubbed his butt with my thumbs. No reaction then, but as I inched a little higher, his cheeks clenched together. "Try to relax a bit," I said, still rubbing him. Despite his efforts, he just couldn't, his muscles refusing to unclench. "Why don't you like being touched here?" I said, giving him a slight slap on his rump. He turned over to face me, his face now serious. He looked at me for a long moment, deciding whether or not to tell me. "You remember I told you about the boy I used to mess with before?" he started. "What, the 18-year-old?" "Yeah. Well, he used to do it to me, you know, put his thing in there." Brian pointed to his butt. "When he first did it to me it hurt, but after a bit I got to like it and we did it a lot. One day though, he was in a funny mood and he just rammed it in and did it really hard and made me bleed. I had to go to the doctors afterwards to get it looked at." "Christ!" I said, "What did you say?" "I told him that I'd hurt myself falling off my bike. I don't think he believed me, but he never told anyone about it. Anyway, ever since then I feel nervous when anyone touches me there." "I see. I won't touch you there again, then." Then he surprised me. "You can if you like. If you want to, you can. I think I'd get used to it again, and I'd like that, you wouldn't hurt me like he did." "Sure?" I said quietly. "Yeah." I cuddled him and we changed the subject, at least for the time being. The following morning we were again in bed together and I experimentally rested my hands on his butt as he kissed me. I felt them tighten up, but left them there. After a few minutes I began to stroke him gently but he tensed up so I took them away and concentrated on kissing him. This time however, he took my hands and put them back on his butt. "Keep doing that, it's OK." he whispered. Within a few minutes he was fully relaxed again and content to enjoy my caresses which I was more than willing to give him. This routine continued until the end of the week, by which time he was not only able to cope with being fondled, but actually like it, allowing a finger to ease into his hole just a little. School started on the following Monday, and so Sunday was the last full day we had together and were determined to make the most of it. We'd cleaned out my garage first thing in the morning, and we were both covered in dust and grime - a shower or a bath was definitely in order. One of the few luxuries I'd allowed myself when I first moved into the house was a whirlpool bath, they were supremely restful after a long day at work I found. Brian had eyed this bath several times during his visits, but we'd never even showered together, let alone bathed. We stood in the kitchen looking at each other, surveying the mess we were in. "Want a shower?" I asked. "Can I have a bath instead?" he asked, head on one side. I followed him upstairs and filled it as he undressed alongside me. I poured a healthy load of sudsy stuff into the water and checked the temperature. "There you are, its all yours," I grinned as I stepped aside. Carefully he stepped in and sat down on the built-in seat. "What you gonna do?" he asked, innocently. I'd intended to have a shower, but the look he gave me soon changed my mind for me. "There's room for two in here," he added smirking. I got undressed as quickly as I could, my dick already up and proud. He smiled even wider as he saw it, but said nothing. Easing myself alongside him on the seat, we had no choice but to put our arms round each other - the bath was big, but not that big. "This's nice," he sighed as he put his arms round me. We kissed deeply and passionately as we rested in the warm water: the heat somehow heightening our desire for each other. He flipped over and lay on top of me, face to face, still kissing. Our solidly erect cocks were rubbing against each other as we wriggled and writhed in the water, adding to the rapturous atmosphere we'd created. I placed my hands on his butt, as much to hold him close to me as anything else. He moaned into my mouth as he felt me hold him, and rather than clench his cheeks together, they actually relaxed and opened themselves slightly. Welcoming the opportunity, I pushed my fingers in and waited to see what happened. He groaned even louder and pushed his butt up, forcing my fingers in even more deeply. We kissed hard, our tongues dancing in out mouths. I wriggled my fingers around, searching for the spot I knew would excite him even more. When I hit the spot, he froze for an instant, moaned loudly and bucked his hips. I took my fingers out instantly, frightened that I'd gone too far. "Wait," he gasped. Turning over, he sat on my lap, looking straight into my face. Taking my dick in his hand , he touched it against his butt-hole and closed his eyes. Very slowly he pushed it in, dropping his body down as he did so. I watched his face intently as he worked my cock into his butt. The soapy water helped lubricate it as he eased himself slowly further and further down, his face contorted with the effort. Before I knew it, he was sat resting on my groin, a wide smile creasing his face. "Got it!" he whispered, obviously pleased with himself. "I done it!" I hugged him to me and kissed him on the ear. "You OK?" I whispered. "Yeah, oh yeah!" he sighed, " Give me a minute. I'd forgotten how good it feels." I would give him more than a minute - he could have as long as he liked, I'd never expected this and would have been quite happy as we were, but I think that Brian needed this more than I did. It was a sort of challenge for him, one he had to overcome himself, and he'd done it. We sat there for ages, me not believing what we'd done, and Brian as pleased as Punch that he'd managed to take me. Slowly he started to move up and down my shaft, flexing his thighs and increasing his movement with each move. I longed to hold him, to hug him, simply to have him close to me, but that was the last thing he wanted just now, he was doing this for himself, not for me and I left him untouched. Gradually he increased his speed, his face easing into a contended smile as he did so. He also took my nipples between his fingers and rubbed them as he rode up and down my cock. As far as I knew, he hadn't cum today so far, and knowing him as I did, it wouldn't take him long, especially he was making sure I hit his prostrate every time he moved. He was the first to cum, the excitement proving too much for him. I watched as his pulsating dick spewed out its first load of the day, violently and with tremendous force, the initial shot hitting me on the face, the others falling into the water. He paused for only a moment and once his orgasm had subsided, continued milking me for all he was worth. Christ knows where he got the energy from, I know that I feel absolutely drained just after I cum, but Brian seemed to gain energy somehow and he bucked and writhed like a man demented until I just couldn't take any more. I grabbed him by the waist and forced him up and down as I ejaculated deep inside his gut, forcing my dick just that little bit deeper as I orgasmed. It was fantastic, his butt cheeks gripping me as I throbbed, sucking the juices out of me so hard it hurt. We collapsed together into the water, embracing and kissing. Neither of us spoke; there was no need. Brian had beaten whatever demon he had, and I was overjoyed for him. We both knew it, and were content enough to leave it there. The water was considerably colder now, and reluctantly we had to get out. We dried ourselves off, and rather than get dressed, we wrapped the towels round us and went downstairs. My mind was still on Brian as I settled down on the sofa. He, being more alert that I was, drew the main curtains together so we couldn't be seen from outside, and sat in my lap. He looked into my eyes, was about to say something, but changed his mind and kissed me instead. I kissed him back, held him tightly and stroked his back. He was dozing within minutes, head on my shoulder. I wrapped his towel round us both and closed my eyes, perfectly at ease with the world. Half an hour later, I woke up as he stirred. He smiled gently as me, curled up and closed his eyes once more. Glancing over to the coffee table, I reached over and picked up my hair brush. Gently I began to brush his beautifully soft blond hair. He moaned in his sleep and to my amusement, stuck his thumb in his mouth and smiled to himself. Some sort of noise from outside made us both jump, and we stared at each other before giggling at our reaction. No one's done that for ages and ages," he said, nodding at the hair brush. "It's sort of nice, isn't it." "Yes, it is," I answered. "I used to like my mum doing it to me when I was little." "Mmmmmm. Keep doing it." I did as I was asked, actually enjoying it. A hand slid under the towel and grasped his dick: a sign he was truly relaxed. I watched as it slowly hardened, his delicate fingers holding it as it rose up. It was the most erotic sight I'd seen in years; this angelic boy, nude, dozing on my lap and fondling his growing erection. I struggled to give my own painfully solid boner a little more space to grow into and in so doing disturbed Brian. "Sorry!" he grinned, looking down at my dick. I smiled and hugged him. He gave me a quick kiss in return and slid off my lap to kneel on the floor. Without taking his eyes off my face, he closed his lips around my cock and began to suck gently, his cool hands cupping my balls and cock. I slid down in the seat and opened my legs as wide as I could. He took his time, taking me to the brink several times, somehow knowing just when to stop, substituting his delicious sucking for a tongue-bath which was almost as erotic. One hand was holding the base of my cock, the other masturbating his own throbbing cock as he worked his magic on me. I put my hands on his head, stroking his freshly-washed hair lovingly as I gave myself up to Eros. Letting Brian do just what he wanted to do, and was so good at. After what seemed a life time, he allowed me to cum, massively and achingly painful again - how on Earth did he do it? He ejaculated at exactly the same time as I did, our joint sperms uniting in my groin with mutual ecstacy. "Better?" he asked, grinning wickedly. "Oh, yeah!" I sighed. "Perfect!" Once more he leapt on my lap and gave me a big, wet kiss. "I like it here," he laughed. "Lots!" He does too. He continues to visit almost every day, and now he is into `everything', our times together are brilliant. He is always the driving force in our relationship, taking charge from the time he comes in the house until he leaves. It's been almost a year now since he first came to visit, and he's grown up a lot, in more ways than one. He has grown taller, his body is filling out nicely and his voice has got a little less predictable - even his language has matured somehow. When he comes through my kitchen door though, he always seems to revert to a child, stripping off the veneer of adolescent maturity and simply living for hedonistic pleasure, and who am I to object? He is due here any minute now and I must go and run the bath for us. Now where did I put that bottle of bath foam? Brian is Different - Part 2. Chapter One. Brian and me have been together for over a year now, and have never been happier. Despite my earlier worries about what people may think, we never had any major problems. On reflection I guess that our friendship in many ways wasn't all that unusual. Many of the teaching staff had pupils they saw more of than others, either because of a common interest like football or art, or because they lived near each other, or their families were friendly or whatever. In our case everyone knew I was helping him with his academic work and so there was no problem, it was a fact tacitly accepted by everyone concerned. I didn't appreciate this fully until two things happened almost simultaneously. Firstly we had an 'Open Evening' when parents or guardians came to school to discuss their charges and any problems they may be having. In my case I usually had a quiet evening as it was an accepted tenet that the parents of boys with 'behavioural problems' rarely if ever took any interest in what was going on at school - in fact that was often the root cause of many of their problems. Anyway, this particular night the manager of the home where Brian lived came in to see me. This in itself was fairly unusual as I normally saw one of his underlings who was in more direct contact with Brian. On this occasion, I managed to kill two birds with one stone: I had two boys from the home in my group and we talked about them both. One of them was easy: Michael was a slow learner, no major problems except a short fuse and we were working on that. The other, slightly more delicate discussion was about Brian. Having got plenty of time, I got a cup of tea for each of us and we went to the staff room where it was quieter and more comfortable. I explained as well as I could what I'd learned about Brian, the sort of boy he was and all the usual sort of stuff. He was more than happy with the way things had turned out, and expressed his thanks for all the effort I'd put in. Apparently they'd formed the same sort of opinion of him that I had: he was fairly bright and had suffered from a bit of bullying in the past, as well as some other probable traumas which he wouldn't talk about. We compared notes about him and didn't have much to disagree on. Then Paul, the Manager, put his cup down and looked closely at me. "You know a lot of his improvement is down to you. Not you as his teacher, I mean, but you as a person. He likes to spend as much time as he can round at your house and it's very good of you to take an interest in him." Alarm bells had begun to ring when he said this, and I was only slightly mollified by his last statement. I thanked him for the kind comment and waited for him to carry on. "That's OK" he said. "One of the more difficult parts of my work is to try and integrate the kids we have into so-called normal society, whatever 'normal' is," he laughed. "And with Brian we've done well between us, although most of it is down to you. In fact the more time he spends away from the house, the better it is for him. Less chance of him being led astray by the other residents, if you see what I mean." I nodded in agreement, still not sure where the conversation was leading although my mild panic attack had subsided slightly. "Well, one of the other things we try and do is get the kids fostered or adopted whenever we can, although most of them are too old for that." I began to see where he was going and listened closely. "Brian is 13 - nearly 14 in fact - and unless he moves on in the fairly near future, he will probably remain in care for the rest of his school life, 16 or maybe even 18 years old." "Yes, I can appreciate that. But where do I come in?" I said, having a damn good idea what was coming up next. Paul took a sip of tea, taking the time to pick his words carefully. "I came here myself tonight to ask you something. It's not normally our sort of approach, but under the circumstances I thought it the best way and I'll not beat about the bush. Have you thought of fostering?" It had crossed my mind in my more fanciful moments that I wouldn't mind Brian living with me, but had always dismissed the idea as being too far-fetched and impractical. "No," I lied, "I haven't thought about it. For one thing, I'm not married and that must be a bar." "That's no major problem these days, especially when we're thinking of someone Brian's age. There'd have to be checks made of course; Social Services and the Police and so on. They'd a bit more rigorous than they would usually be, but I don't foresee any problems with that if you're interested." I took a deep breath: this was the last thing I expected and my mind was in a bit of a whirl. One half of me almost jumped for joy, the other half was scared shitless at the thought. Paul gave me a few minutes to think about it before adding, "Why don't you get him to stay with you for a week-end or two and see how it works out? I would really be most grateful if you'd give it some serious thought. And I know Brian would like it" I bet he would, I thought to myself, and so would I! But fostering? I don't know about that. "OK," I said, "I'll give it a try if you like." I hadn't even given it a second thought: my mouth saying the words and ignoring my brain. "Great!" Paul said, shaking me by the hand, "Thanks very much, I appreciate it. This week-end?" I nodded, having lost the power of speech. What the hell had I just agreed to? The second problem started the following morning bright and early. Brian bounced into class carrying an overnight bag. Dropping it by my desk, he grinned broadly at me and said loud enough for the class to hear, "I'm staying with you at your house for the week-end." I hurriedly explained to the wide-eyed class that Brian was staying with me for the week-end 'to have a break' from his home. Once they'd been told this, they understood the situation as most of them, if they weren't in care themselves, knew enough about it to know that this sort of thing wasn't too unusual. In fact most of Brian's class mates were pleased for him, knowing what life was like living in a children's home. The only person who didn't seem at all happy was Stephen who shot me a look of sheer unadulterated malice. After our bad start to the year, we'd had a sort of armed truce: he was still difficult and cantankerous and it was only the occasional 'sorting out' he got from the other boys that kept him in any sort of order. He and I disliked each other intensely. Quite how much he hated me, and through me, Brian, I was soon to find out. Chapter Two. We had a magnificent week-end together, Brian was as happy as a sand-boy and thoroughly enjoyed himself. Oddly enough, we didn't have a great deal of sex although we slept together of course. Just for the sake of any visitors we may have had, we spent most of Saturday re-arranging my spare bedroom for him, even going as far as sticking his name on the door. Once it was done, he stood and looked round, then proclaimed 'it was OK, but I'm not using it am I?' That night as we prepared for bed, he stripped down to his pants which he kept on, and not being sure of his intentions, I did likewise. Once in bed we cuddled up close and entwined our legs, enjoying the feel of each other's warm body. Brian turned to face me, placed my hand against his boner outside of his pants and rested his hand against mine. Sticking his thumb in his mouth, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. I was disappointed at his strange behaviour as I'd been looking forward to some fun and games, but it seemed he wasn't interested for some reason. I mentally shrugged my shoulders, hugged him tighter and heard him sigh contentedly. If he was happy, then so was I. Disappointed maybe, but happy to have him in bed with me. Sunday was spent lazing around the house, semi-naked in Brian's case, and doing the normal household chores. It wasn't until the afternoon when we were vaguely thinking of going back to his home when he came across and sat in my lap. He sat quietly for a few minutes with his arms round me, nestled in my shoulder. "Have I been OK?" he asked nervously, "I tried to be good." He was scared and frightened I guessed, his voice soft and nervous. It'd been quite an ordeal for him as there was a lot at stake for him and the strain was beginning to show. "Of course," I said giving him a squeeze. "You've been perfect. Almost too good," I added jokingly. He grinned with relief, snuggled down once more and whispered, "And we haven't done anything, have we?" "Nope. Except sleep together which might be a problem if anyone got to know," I laughed knowing he would appreciate it. "We still got a couple of hours left," he grinned wickedly, grinding his butt into my groin. "Wanna?" "Definitely not," I whispered in his ear. "You do realise that they put hidden cameras all round the house to check on us don't you? Just in case." For a moment he believed me, his panic-stricken eyes darting round the room searching in vain for the evidence. Then, as the light dawned, he smiled broadly, gave me a kiss on the cheeks and a hug. "Come on, we gotta do something. Look." He nodded in the direction of his groin, and sure enough there was that tell-tale bulge that said it all. "I wanted to last night," he grinned, "my dick was hard all bloody night." "So why didn't you, err, we ..." I said. "Cause I wanted to see if I could. If I'm gonna live here like your son, we won't be able to do it will we?" This astounded me and I looked at him seriously, not sure what to make of his last comment. Then I noticed a glint in his eye that told me he wasn't being entirely serious, thank goodness! I ruffled his hair and squeezed him. "Well, maybe once in a while then. But it's hard being here with you all night and not doing anything! I've had a bloody big boner all night!" Then he added mischievously, "And I didn't even wank off once!" I laughed at him, and gave him a kiss. "Do you know, the more I see you, the more I like you," I said. "You're mad, but I still like you." He smiled at me and said, "So. We gonna do something or not? I can't keep this up for ever." He demonstrated his point by lifting the waistband of his pants over his cock and giving me a glimpse of his vividly red, hugely erect organ. It was too good to ignore. "I thought you'd never ask!" I said. Picking him up off my lap, he wrapped his legs round my waist and I carried him back upstairs, kissing all the way. I dropped him on my bed where he lay stretched out on his back, arms folded under his head, legs out straight and an evil leer spread across his face. His dick was standing straight up, wavering slightly as his heart pulsed. He was truly a beautiful sight - I wish I had the nerve to take a picture of him there and then, something to remind me of him like he is now for ever. I dropped my trousers standing at the end of the bed, unable to take my eyes off him for a second. He for his part stared back at me, his tongue wiping his lips lasciviously, his eyes wide-open and unblinking. Whether he knew it or not, just at that moment he was the most sensuous, most alluring and most desirable person in the universe. My guess is that he had a pretty good idea what he was doing and the effect it was having on me. I crawled up the bed, taking the opportunity to kiss every inch of him on the way up from his toes to the top of his head, not forgetting to take special notice of the bit of him he was most proud of. I kissed him deeply and passionately on the lips as he locked his hands in the small of my back and held me close to him. He'd placed his dick between my thighs and was gently lifting his hips up and down as we kissed, something we'd done loads of times before, but always with him on top. As lightly as I could, I moved up and down him, helping massage his erect missile as much as I could. "Make me cum. Quick," he whispered between kisses, "I can't hold back much longer." I changed my efforts to more urgent thrusting ones, lifting my butt up and down, my legs clenched together as tightly as I could. He broke off the kisses, thrashing his head from side to side and hugging me close. "Don't stop. Don't ......Ughh! Ughh! Ughh!" With three massive lunges he abruptly shot his load of too-long awaited cum out of his throbbing dick, the red-hot drops landing on my back. He arched his back as much as my weight allowed and gasped for air, his thrusts slowing down and stopping altogether as he drifted down form his orgasm. We kissed as he calmed down. "Oh boy!" he sighed, "That's better. Now it's my turn." I wasn't aware that his cock softened even for an instant as he spun round and slipped my pre-cum soaked cock into his mouth hungrily. "Mmmm. Mmmmm. Mmmm," he moaned as he deep-throated me and swallowed every drip of my pre-cum. He pressed his dick against my lips, urging me to do something about it. Willingly I took it in, first licking all round it and then sucking the remains of his just-shot load out of it. I swallowed, savouring the sweet/salt taste of him, relishing every precious drop. I don't know whether it was the frustration of being thwarted last night or the image of his angelic body stretched out on my bed, but within minutes of his starting to suck me, I was ready to cum. I didn't usually have this short-a-fuse, but it was beyond my control as he sucked and slurped away demonically at my dick. He was still in a desperate, frantic mood and was thrusting himself in and out of my mouth at the same time as rubbing his hands over every part of me he could reach - and in the middle somewhere still managed to keep sucking! "I'm cumming!" I just managed to stammer out before he got what he'd been working for so hard. Whether he heard me or not, he didn't change his actions in the slightest except to swallow harder as I jettisoned my load into his mouth, spurt after never-ending spurt made their way down his throat, each one ingested passionately and hungrily. We lay there together in peace for what little time remained of our first week-end together. It had been just about perfect for us both and we had decided that should the opportunity be offered, fostering was a definite possibility. Monday morning and it was school as normal. Until my lesson with 'the boys' that is. Everything proceeded normally for the first fifteen minutes until Stephen started to play up. He was sat in his normal place behind Brian and in front of David, but he had something of an attitude problem this morning. He was sat slouched down in his seat, legs splayed out and tapping a pencil on his desk in the most irritating manner he could. I ignored it for as long as possible, but he was determined. After several requests to stop it, I eventually walked over and removed the pencil from his grasp without saying a word. Having nothing else to annoy with, he started on Brian. I didn't hear the first couple of comments he said to him sotto voce, but I knew he'd said something to upset him as Brian had a face like thunder. The third comment I definitely heard. Stephen looked directly at me, leaned forwards and whispered loudly, "Queerboy. Fag." in Brian's ear. I nodded slightly at Brian and told Stephen to shut up. He didn't of course, he was in that sort of mood. Once more he leaned forward, rapped Brian hard on the head with his knuckles and said loud enough for all the class to hear, "Cocksucker. Arselicker." Brian snapped. He bounced to his feet, turned round and screamed "Bastard!" at Stephen then ran from the room crying bitterly. The class was stunned into silence, every face staring at me. I was as angry as I had ever been, and only with an immense amount of will-power kept outwardly calm appearance. I asked a couple of the boys to go after Brian and keep an eye on him. I grabbed Stephen by the front of his shirt, lifted him bodily out of his seat and threw him against the wall. He stood shocked at the speed with which this had happened for a couple of seconds before he let forth a vicious tirade of verbal abuse spat directly into my face. I was as close then to laying into him physically as I have ever been with a student, but somehow I managed to put my hands in my pockets and stare at him. At that moment I knew he was scared, his eyes showed it. Scared enough to fight back if I touched him and scared enough not to give a damn about the consequences. I took a step backwards to give him a bit of space. "Sit." I commanded pointing at his chair. He shook his head defiantly. "Sit," I repeated, and again got a shake of the head. The situation had now reached crisis point and I had to resolve it one way or another within the next few seconds. I sat on Brian's desk and stared at Stephen, who glared back like a cornered tiger. "Right." I said with more confidence than I felt. "The rest of you outside. You, stay here." I poked Stephen in the chest hard. I heard the dozen or so remaining boys scurrying to leave the room and I watched the door close. Physical violence is always a last resort with a pupil, but bearing in mind the sort of students I worked with, it happened once in a while and under the right circumstances I was always prepared to use it, but always in self-defence or to protect the others. This was different. There was no doubt that in a confrontation I would win, I had both the skill and the ability to handle it - it was a part of my training. I grasped Stephen round the neck, found the pressure points I wanted and forced him to the floor in one smooth move and sat on his chest, knees dug into his shoulders. "What the fuck's wrong with you?" I said slowly emphasising every word. "Cunt!" he said, "Piss off me." I shook my head. "Not until you've calmed down." "Bollocks." We stayed as we were for at least five minutes, neither willing to concede. Thankfully one of the boys had had the sense to let the Headmaster know what was going on, and I was grateful when he came in the room to check if everything was under control. He sized the situation up at a glance and sat on the desk looking at us both. He had the remarkable ability to see the funny side of most things, and wasn't afraid to show it. He looked at us both, simply folded his arms and said, "Any idea how stupid you look Stephen?" This time Stephen remained quiet. "OK, Greg, you can release him now. But you. Don't move!" The jokey mood had gone now and he meant what he said. I sat on the chair and explained to the head what had happened, Stephen still sullenly laying on the floor. "OK," the boss said. "You apologising yet?" Stephen shook his head. "I see. Well in that case you'd better come to my office. Not now but at the end of morning school and we'll take it from there when we can discuss the other little matter as well. Would you take him outside now, with the others?" The last phrase was addressed to me. I looked back at the head questioningly. He was well aware of what would probably happen to him and seemingly was going accept it. I stood up, waited for Stephen to regain his feet and the three of us went to the playground where the boys were having a game of scratch football. Brian was walking disconsolately round the playground by himself. The match stopped as we appeared and the boys crowded round us, apart from Brian who remained distant and aloof. The head explained that the matter was being dealt with, but because of the seriousness of the offence, all games had been stopped for the week. With that we walked away from the playground and left the boys to it. On the way into school, out of sight of the playground, the Head quickly explained to me that Stephen had been caught with a sheath knife earlier that day and was in the process of being excluded. "That's one boy we can well do without. The sort of problems he's got need specialist help." he said. "You'd better get back to the playground, I expect that the others will have had a quiet word with him by now." He grinned knowingly at me and went to his office. When I got back to the boys, the football match had resumed and Stephen was sat in the corner, his head on his knees. I walked over to him slowly and lifted his head up. He had a bruise on his cheek and a torn shirt. "Tripped over, Sir," our weightlifter said. "Yeah," was the chorused agreement from the rest of the boys. I gathered the clan together, including a now very subdued Stephen and went back to the classroom. They all knew the routine by now and sat down on the easy chairs waiting for me to start. All except Stephen who sat by himself in the corner, and Brian who sat at his desk with his head on folded arms. "OK," I sighed, "ABC. Who's going to start?" The boys knew the drill of old. ABC - Antecedent, Behaviour, Corollary. I'd amused them sometime back about the ABC system, mainly because it helped them understand their own behaviour sometimes and in any case a post mortem after an event like this helped clear the air. Pete, one of the brighter boys, the one who'd calmed Brian down, explained. It was the general consensus that Stephen was out of order, not because of his swearing in class so much, or the hitting of Brian. That was 'normal' in their circles. It was because of the sort of language he'd used and the effect it'd had on Brian. They all understood that Brian was in care and as a result was especially sensitive to that sort of comment. They also knew he'd spent the week-end with me and had had a good time, something they knew he didn't get too many of. What pissed the gang off badly was that in one fell swoop, he'd ruined Brian's week-end and cost them their games for the week. That, and the knife. In their terms, fair fighting was one thing, carrying a knife was another. That they weren't going to tolerate. Towards the end of the lesson, Brian was coerced into joining us and Stephen was forced to, quite simply by the boys moving all their chairs round so like it or not, Stephen was part of the group. For the first time ever in my experience, Stephen was told by the group in no uncertain terms exactly what they thought of him, and why. Not the language, not the violence, but the deliberate way he'd set out to upset Brian, and the carrying of a knife. 'Only chicken-shit cowards and idiots are that stupid' he was told. As the bell went, David asked him if he was going to say sorry to Brian. Stephen looked up, nodded his head at Brian and looked down at the floor. In their book, that was sufficient. We never saw Stephen in school again, which was a pity in some ways as having gone through all this, perhaps we'd made a breakthrough with him. Still, there will no doubt be others to take his place I sighed as I sorted out the work for my next lesson. Chapter Three. Lunch-time I phoned Brian's home, mainly because I wanted to find out what they had to say about Brian's week-end with me and secondly to tell them about the incident during the morning. Luckily I managed to catch Paul and told him what had happened. There was nothing they could do about it of course, but it was routine for us to do it just in case something happened later in the home. The other thing was that according to Brian, he'd had a brilliant week-end, apart from being forced to make his own bed and help me with the housework! Paul was satisfied with Brian's 'report' and joked that it'd done him good to do some domestic chores. I chose not to explain that 'making his own bed' consisted of throwing a duvet over a bare mattress and closing the door. It was also agreed that Brian could spend the next week-end with me if he wanted. He did, and the next three as well. The only drawback was that he didn't come round so much after school. After a long talk, Brian and I had agreed that it wouldn't be a good idea to spend all his free time with me, apart from the fact that questions might be asked, he needed to get out and mix with his friends as much as possible doing the things which boys do, or at least most of them I joked. It was the sixth week-end he was staying that Paul brought him round to the house on Friday evening. He had with him a sheaf of ominous looking papers which he lay on the table in front of us. Whilst Brian was making us a cup of tea, Paul quickly asked if I was still prepared to consider fostering Brian on a long-term basis. When I said that I was, he breathed a sigh of relief and commented that he was glad for both of us. When Brian returned with the tea, he sat between us and looked at Paul. He thought he knew vaguely why he was there, assuming that he was just a routine call, checking up that everything was OK. When the envelope was opened and the top sheet of paper was quite clearly headed "Application for Fostering", Brian looked at us both, puzzled. Paul took charge and after asking the usual questions about was he being fed alright, was he happy staying here, where did he sleep, what time did he go to bed, and so on, he closed the file and looked steadily at Brian. "Ever been fostered, Brian?" Paul asked. Brian nodded. "Did you like it?" "Yes," he replied, "But they couldn't keep me so I came here." "Would you like to be fostered again?" It was like a light being turned on, suddenly Brian's face lit up and he stared from one to the other of us. "What? Here? With Greg?" "Yes." Paul said, trying his best to remain business-like. "Yes, please!" he grinned, bouncing up and down in his chair. If Paul hadn't've been there, I would have had a seriously happy boy bouncing on my knee - and my other bits no doubt. Luckily Brian stayed more or less seated as he waited expectantly. "Right. This's what happens." Paul looked at us both and having ensured he had both our attentions, carried on, "It'll take a week or two to arrange, but there shouldn't be any problem. Once you've read and signed the forms, they need to be approved by Social Services, which is pretty well automatic and then ....." He paused, and looked lost for a second. "You got any parents?" he said puzzled. Brian shook his head. "No. At least I've never seen them if I have." This was news to me, I'd just assumed that there were some parents around somewhere - much to my embarrassment I'd never bothered to ask. "I see. Only we're supposed to let them know where you're living, but as you haven't any effectively, then that's OK. The only other thing is that we will come to see you here once a week or so just to make sure everything is OK, and also that if you get any problems you can always come back and see us at the home, or telephone us." Brian nodded his head furiously, grinning widely. We spent twenty minutes form-filling, and once they'd been signed by myself, Paul and Brian, they were filed away and the conversation changed. "Make us some more tea, please?" Paul asked Brian. Brian skipped off to the kitchen with the empty cups, and whilst he was busy, Paul said, "The formalities are done by and large, there won't be a problem. We've done the routine Police checks and so on and they've come back clean. It should only be a week before he can move in. There is one other thing though, whilst I've got you. If you want to adopt him, then the initial application can be made after three months residence with you. If all goes well, the final papers would be cleared three months after that. I've not mentioned this to Brian, I don't think it'd do any good raising his hopes, just in case things don't work out. I'll leave you the paperwork for you to read through. Let me know if you're interested." At this point Brian came in with the teas, and cheekily with a plate piled high with biscuits. Paul grinned and said something about him not quite living here just yet, and he could have asked first. Brian just giggled and stuffed his mouth full of biscuit, still trying to smile. It wasn't long before Paul left, leaving Brian and I stood in the living room looking at each other, not quite believing the last hour or so. Brian took a step towards me, put his arms round my waist and hugged me, laying his head on my chest and rocking from side to side. I wasn't sure, but I think he was crying to himself quietly, but when I raised his head all I saw were red-rimmed bright eyes and a chirpy half-smile. We walked arm in arm to the lounge and sat on the sofa, still hugging. We remained quiet for ages, and I turned the tv on, as much for a bit of background noise as anything else. About eleven o'clock, I took a can of beer from the fridge, a bottle of lemonade and we had a celebratory drink together. Half an hour later I decided it was bed time for us, and stood up yawning. "I'm sleeping in MY room tonight," Brian said, establishing his right to a room now he was almost resident. "OK," I replied, only slightly disheartened at the thought of spending the night alone. Together we found the bedding, (thank God Paul hadn't checked the room!), made the bed up and I set the radio/alarm clock on his bedside table. He quickly undressed, had a nominal wash and jumped into bed, wearing his pyjamas I noted. He looked just as if he belonged there and had used the bed all his life. I kissed him goodnight, gave him a hug and whispered, "Welcome home!" I went to my own room, undressed and climbed into bed, slightly pissed off because I was alone and knowing Brian was only a few feet away sleeping soundly. I picked up a book to read, but after reading the same paragraph three times, I gave up and tried to sleep. I woke up with a start when there was a tap on the bedroom door in the early hours of the morning. I shouted a "come in," and the door opened to reveal a wide-awake Brian. "Can't get to sleep," he said sidling into the room. "Can I sleep with you?" I held the bed covers back and nodded. Grinning now, he skipped across to the bedside, dropped his pyjamas and slid in alongside me, now clad in only his underpants. I welcomed him with my open arms into which he snuggled comfortably with his back to me. I suddenly felt a lot better: I hadn't realised quite how much I'd missed him, even for these couple of hours. I kissed him on the forehead and stroked his hair. "Mmmmmm," he said dozily, "That's nice." Once he'd got warmed up he put his hands under the bedclothes and wriggled out of his pants, "That's better. Can I take yours off?" I nodded my head and before I knew what was happening, Brian had dived under the sheet, grabbed my pants and took them off. Before he surfaced I felt him grasp my rapidly hardening cock and give it a squeeze or two before licking it like a lollipop. When he came out, he had a wicked grin on his face and kissed me on the lips lightly before snuggling up once more with his back to me. With one hand he reached over to my groin and rested my now solid cock between the his cheeks, his other hand gently holding his own erection. I sighed contentedly and played with his nipples, eliciting first giggles and then deeply satisfied moans. He was obviously in a playful mood as he started to wriggle and squirm his butt around my now profusely leaking cock, burying it deeper and deeper between his cheeks. He was also masturbating himself at the same time, giving himself a few rapid strokes and then several slow, easy ones, his body trembling against mine. When his breathing quickened, I knew he was about to cum and I tightened my hold of him as his little hand shot up and down his shaft, urging the boiling fluid in his balls to start its short journey. His butt cheeks clenched together and with a loud groan, his body stiffened and I felt it spasm four or five times as he climaxed. Without a seconds pause, he whipped his cum-filled hand over his back and covered my cock with the lovely, warm fluid. "Quick," he said, "Put it in." He pointed my cock at his already relaxed hole and as I eased forwards, he pushed back. It went in instantly, and as deep as it was able. "Aaaahhhhh!" he sighed. "Perfect." We lay there on our sides, my throbbing dick embedded inside him, Brian's hand on my butt, adding to the pressure. "That was easy," I whispered in his ear. "I've had my fingers up there for the past hour, thinking of you," he said without a trace of humour. "That's why I couldn't sleep." I began to thrust myself back and forth, increasing the motion slowly. "Wait," he gasped, "Stop a minute." I rested, buried in him to the hilt. "Let me get down underneath you and you can do it properly then." With some difficulty we re-arranged ourselves without my having to pull out, and once we were comfortable, Brian rested his forehead on his arms and whispered, "Go on. Now do it. Properly." I pulled back as far as I was able, my dickhead coming to rest just inside his sphincter before thrusting downwards, slowly and carefully. "Faster. Harder." he moaned. "Do it properly." I lifted myself up on my arms and did as I was told. Each stroke was delivered forcefully and passionately with as much strength as I could muster. With each push Brian let out a truly ecstatic moan. "Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Go on! More!" I did my very best for him, urging myself deeper and deeper into him, his hips thrusting back at me with every stroke. When I began to feel close to cumming, I let my body take over, my cock ramming itself in and out of him like a steam engine, with as much strength as I had. I erupted viciously and forcefully, my cum ejecting with a rarely known strength, six, seven times I throbbed, each one accompanied by a low growl and a groan from Brian. When I'd finished, I collapsed on my back, breathing deeply. Brian climbed on top and kissed me hard and long, his arms locked tightly round my neck, his face beaded in sweat. He reminded me of a horse that had bolted, running for the sheer pleasure of it and completely unable to stop even if he wanted, which Brian certainly didn't. Suddenly, without any warning he climaxed yet again, his cum uniting us in a delightful gooey mess. Then he slowed down and still breathing heavily gave me one last tongue-entwining kiss before dropped his head onto my chest. He was toying idly with the hairs on my chest as he whispered, "I've never felt like this before." "Like what?" I answered curiously. "Like this. Liking somebody so much it seems to hurt in my tummy. Wanting to be with them all the time. And knowing they like you as well and want to be with you just as much." I didn't know what to say. What could I say? I cuddled him closer and held him tight. I felt him shivering and pulled the bedclothes up over us, wrapping them under his chin. He lifted his face up to me slowly. He wasn't shivering; he wasn't cold, he was sobbing, his eyes red and swollen and the tears running down his cheeks. "Hey!" I whispered, "It's OK. Don't panic." He pulled himself up slightly and rested his cheek against mine, still clinging on to me, the warm wetness of his tears now flowing down both our faces. Grabbing an edge of the sheet I carefully wiped his tears away and cleaned his face, giving him a peck on the lips as I did so. Gradually he pulled himself together and stared into my eyes. More tears started to fall, slowly this time and accompanied by a slight smile. "Why?" he said, brushing the tears away with the back of his hand. "Why me? Why do you want me to live here with you?" I thought for a moment before replying, "You said it yourself. I like you and you like me, and we enjoy being together don't we? So why not?" "It won't happen though, will it?" "Why on Earth not?" I said. He had me worried now. Was there something he knew that I didn't? " 'Cause nothing that good ever happens to me. Whenever I'm happy and things are going OK, then something always happens to ruin it. It always does and it will this time, like Stephen this morning." "No it won't. You heard what Paul said tonight, you read the papers, and everything has been arranged. Nothing can change that now, unless you want it to." He sniffled a bit, forced a grin and whispered, "Promise?" "I promise." I don't think he believed me entirely, but at least he calmed down and stopped crying. We embraced gently and I watched as he drifted off into a fitful sleep. I stayed awake for ages, praying that I was right and knowing I wouldn't relax until he was firmly living under my roof. Early the following morning I telephoned Paul on his mobile while Brian was still sleeping. He was worried that something had gone wrong at first, but when I told him the reason for my call, the relief in his voice was more than evident. I explained what Brian had said about things going wrong for him again, and that there may possibly be some sort of reaction when he went home the following Sunday. We chatted about it for a while, our conversation ending when Paul said he'd give it some thought and ring me back later in the day. Chapter Four. I was aware that Brian was up and around, and waited for him to put an appearance in downstairs. He seemed to be ages and I was just about to go upstairs and find him when he came down. "Any tea going?" he asked brightly. "And cereal? I'm starving." "So? When were you ever anything else? You know where things are. Help yourself to the cereal and I'll make the tea." I was delighted to see he was in a good mood and there were no after-affects of last night. "What kept you?" I asked. He swallowed the mouthful of food he had and said, "Made the beds, yours and mine, and had a shower." "Thanks," I replied. We usually left the bed-making and cleaning until later in the day, if at all in fact. Brian was trying to make a point, but exactly what I wasn't sure, except to establish himself even more in the home. We'd finished breakfast, cleared the kitchen and were deciding what to do for the rest of the day when the phone rang. Brian was the nearest to it and looked at me questioningly. I nodded at him and he picked the receiver up. His face paled as whoever it was introduced themselves and he handed It to me. It was Paul. Brian made to leave the room to give us some privacy, but I called him back and put an arm round his waist as I spoke to Paul. I could almost feel the nervous tension in Brian as I listened. After sorting one or two things out, I handed the phone to Brian, smiling. "For you," I said unnecessarily. Once more I looked at Brian as he listened. The nervousness disappeared and a smile slowly replaced the grimace. Once the receiver had been replaced, he gave a whoop of joy and launched himself at me, hugging me round the waist and beaming. "It's fixed! It's fixed!" he gushed out excitedly, "I'm coming. I'm really coming." "Doesn't show," I laughed, staring pointedly at his groin. He looked down for an instant, realised what I'd said, and retorted, "Piss off! I'm not joking. Paul's done it!" What's happened in fact was that after I'd spoken with Paul, we both felt that Brian needed some sort of confirmation that things indeed were moving, if only to bolster his self-confidence. We agree that we could do two things for him, the first was the 'phone call. Nothing material had changed, but Brian didn't know that - he was still moving in the week-end after next. The other thing was that when Paul came to collect Brian on Sunday, he would bring some of his clothes with him, a sort of first stage moving in. Brian was as high as a kite after the phone call, and after suffering a couple of hours of his hyper-activity, I decided to do something about it. "Come on," I said, "Let's go shopping." We drove to the shopping complex about twenty miles away, partly to avoid the risk of bumping into anyone we knew in town, and partly because I knew Brian would enjoy the drive. What I was looking for really were some bits of furniture and stuff to complete Brian's room; I'd never really bothered with it since I moved in apart from the bed, and it needed wardrobes and cupboards. Between us we managed to choose something we both liked, although it was the 'assemble it yourself' type. I wasn't looking forward to that! We also found some posters Brian fancied, and added those to our shopping. After a snack and something to drink, we hit the department store for some toiletries -tooth brush, soap and stuff for Brian mainly. We'd picked up a shopping basket and had found most of the things we needed when I realised I'd lost Brian. Looking quickly round the shop, I saw him reading the label on something or other. Wandering across, I stood behind him and looked at it. I tapped him on the shoulder and shook my head, grinning. He blushed sheepishly and replaced the tube of KY on the shelf. "Just looking!" he grinned. Nevertheless, he'd thrown in a bottle of baby oil I noticed as I was paying for everything - I hope the sales assistant didn't have too vivid an imagination! Despite the fact that it was mid-evening before we got back, Brian wanted to assemble the cupboards there and then and it was only with some difficulty I dissuaded him, preferring to leave it until Sunday. Scowling at me playfully, he stomped off to his room and satisfied himself by putting up his posters., most of which I was pleased to see were of female pop stars. We stayed up very late that night, just chatting and playing cards - we could stay in bed as long as we liked on Sunday and took advantage of it. It was well after one am when Brian yawned and said he was tired and wanted to go to bed. "OK, that seems like a good idea. Let's go." I replied. I didn't ask him which bed he was going to sleep in, I left it entirely to him, but wasn't entirely surprised when he followed me into my room and carefully close the door behind him. He also drew the curtains, which we'd never done before as there weren't any houses overlooking us anyway. I liked the early morning sunlight apart from anything else. He stripped off casually as if it was something he did every day of his life, taking no pains to hide himself from me - in fact If I know Brian he was taking a certain amount of pernicious delight in it . Once naked, he suddenly remembered that he hadn't been to the bathroom and so scampered off, not bothering to even put a dressing gown on. I was already in bed when he came back, laying on my back and trying to find the page of the book I was reading. Brian slithered in beside me, worked his head under my arm and read the book with me. We hadn't spoken a word since we came upstairs - the routine was by now well-established. I felt his hand feel for my cock, which once found was held lightly. He'd often done this in the past: there wasn't anything overtly sexual in it, I think he just liked holding it - 'I can, so I will' sort of thing. Once I'd read enough, I put the book down and turned the light out. The room was instantly in pitch darkness, which for some reason startled me before I remembered the curtains were closed. Brian wrapped himself round me, one leg thrown over mine and his head on my shoulder. "This's my favourite time of day," he murmured as he wriggled closer. "There's only us in the entire world - just you and me. Nobody else exists." I could empathise with him on that: there are days when I feel exactly the same. There is nothing better after a gruelling day to climb into bed, turn the lights out and let the world go hang. We lay there in silence, enjoying the simple physical presence of one another neither saying a word. Brian was still holding my soft dick: I could feel his equally flaccid one pressing against my thigh: there was something very comforting about it. An hour later and we were still awake. I twisted a lock of Brian's hair between my fingers and rested a hand on his chest. He kissed the back of it and closed his eyes. Slowly I became aware that his dick was gradually hardening, stretching out against my leg. "What you thinking about?" I whispered in his ear. "Mmmmmmm?" he muttered sleepily. "Doesn't matter," I replied, "Go back to sleep." "Wasn't sleeping, I was thinking," he said softly. "About?" "Me and you. Nothing special, just sort of thinking what it'll be like living here. School, and all that sort of thing. It's going to be good." "I hope so, but don't forget that you aren't living here properly yet, you're only being fostered, which means that they can take you away anytime they want I suppose. As Paul said, to live here you have to be adopted, which will take months, even if they agree to it." "Yeah, I know, but it'll happen." "Sure it will, but in the meantime we've got to make sure that nothing goes wrong. Which means you keeping out of trouble!" I gave him a squeeze as I said this, and a smile. "Yeah, I will. I mean I won't. I mean that I'll keep out of trouble." "Good," I replied. "Now that's settled can we get some sleep?" The following morning, Brian was up and around before eight o'clock, unheard of for a Sunday. I was only dimly aware that he'd got out of bed, and only came really awake when he brought breakfast up on a tray. Balancing the food on the bedside table for a second, he clambered back into bed and placed the tray precariously between us. "That's nice," I mumbled, still half asleep. "What's brought this on?" "Nothing. I was awake early and you were still asleep so I got us breakfast." He grinned at me, his mouth full of toast. "And then we can put those cupboard things together and do my room out." I sighed, tousled his hair and drank my tea. I'd a feeling that it was going to be a long day. It took three attempts, several injured fingers and a swear word or two before the bedroom furniture was finished. One day I will learn that it's easier on the nerves and saves a lot of time buying ready-made furniture! We were sweaty and sticky by then and in dire need of a good wash down. We went to the bathroom together and ran the Jacuzzi, adding loads of foamy stuff as it filled.. Before long the room was hot and steamy, just as we liked it. I climbed in and sat on the little seat thing as Brian arranged himself between my legs, leaning back against my chest. Lovingly I shampooed his hair and washed his chest and back, leaving him to sigh contentedly as he relaxed. His hands, I noticed cradled his semi-erect penis in his hands which he slowly stroked. I watched, fascinated, my own dick gradually rising between us. He must've felt it growing as he turned round and winked at me grinning, before returning to his own little problem. Not for very long though. He squirmed his way round to face me and sat squarely on my thighs, my dick standing up in front of him. He locked his eyes on mine and lifted himself up slightly, just enough to hold my cock in place as he lowered himself on to it. Seemingly without any effort at all he took it all in, only pausing once to adjust his legs. Once I was totally embedded inside him, he put his hands on my shoulders and leaned forward. "That's nice!" he whispered in my ear, "Don't do anything just yet. Let's stay like this." More than willing to do as he asked, I held him as he nibbled on my ear and ran his fingers through my hair. Once in a while he clenched his butt cheeks together as if to remind himself that I was still there, at the same time lifting himself up ever so slightly. Each time he moaned and sighed, perfectly happy. Then, as if he'd just woken up out of a dream, he started to move up and down, eyes closed and his hands playing with my nipples. We moved together for ages, concentrating on deriving as much pleasure as we could from our gentle love-making. My dick throbbed with the passion two or three times, but with an effort I managed to stem off the inevitable follow-through until Brian was ready. Leaning forward he kissed me deeply and hugged me as hard as his position would allow. Then he started to thrust himself up and down seriously, biting his lips as he did so, and his fingers gripping my nipples painfully. I could only take this pressure for a couple of minutes before I sensed that I wasn't able to hold things back any longer. My cock engorged itself just a bit more, which Brian felt. Still grinning at me like a wild tiger, he clenched his cheeks together and after three masterful strokes had me ejaculating rapturously, coating his guts with my steaming-hot cum. I shouted out with the pain and pleasure as I shot my load into Brian, only dimly aware that he was trembling and shaking himself as his cum fired out onto my chest, face and even into my hair! I sighed, completely spent as Brian leaned down and rested on my chest, my softening cock still inside him. "That was good," I whispered, "Thank you!" "Piss off!" he whispered back, "That was for me, not you! It's your turn next!" He half-smiled at me and we kissed, deeply and tenderly until the cooling water told us it was time to make a move. We dried off and wandered into our own rooms to get dressed. I was still sorting out my clothes when I was conscious of Brian standing beside me. I turned, and was met by his intense, yet child-like gaze: he was holding his clothes bundled up his arms without moving. "Will you dress me, please?" he said pleadingly. Wordlessly I took the clothes from him and placed them on the bed. I sat on the edge and pulled him between my legs, reaching out for his pants at the same time. He leaned on me as he lifted first one leg then the other so's I could pull them up. These were followed by his clean shirt and trousers and lastly his socks and shoes. "Thanks!" he smiled when we'd finished. "That's what dad's do for their boys, isn't it?" "Yep," I said, grinning back at him and slapping him on his butt. "Now go and make some tea while I get dressed. Unless you want to dress me now!" "Naah. You're big enough to dress yourself, you're a man." were his last words as he scuttled off to the kitchen." Chapter Five. It was early evening when the sound of a car pulling up outside disturbed us. Until then we'd been sat together on the sofa watching tv, me dozing and Brian curled up with his thumb in his mouth. Ever since we'd had our bath together he'd been acting like a child: nothing stupid, just being impish. My guess was that he was sort of letting himself relax and behaving like the little boy he never was, knowing he was in safe and comfortable surroundings. I felt sorry for him in a way, I don't think he'd ever had much of a chance to act like that in any of the homes he'd lived in so far - he'd had to grow up very quickly in order to survive. Brian jumped up and ran to the window. "It's Paul," he said without emotion, "Come to take me back." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand to remove the dribble from his chin and automatically checked the zip on his trousers. "Go on then, let him in," I told him as I struggled to my feet. Two minutes later Brian was dragging an enormous suitcase into the living room, followed closely by Paul. "It's my clothes and stuff!" Brian said excitedly, "My things!" Paul sat down and we both looked at a very happy Brian, still fighting his suitcase. "Can I unpack it now?" he said breathlessly. I looked at Paul and grinned. "Not now," I said. "It's only the clothes you don't need at present. Paul's brought them round for you." "Pleeeeeeease!" he whined, "It won't take long." "No!" I said, quite firmly. "You can make us some tea or coffee though if you like." Dropping the case and shrugging his shoulders irritably he went into the kitchen. Paul took advantage of his absence and sighed. "I've had a bastard of a day!" he breathed out, "One of those days on which everything that could go wrong has gone wrong! And it's supposed to be my day off." "Know the feeling," I concurred, sympathising with him. "Everything alright now?" "Dunno. I've been out most of the day sorting stuff out. I'm just on the way back now and I thought I'd drop his case off and pick up Brian on the way. We've got a new client who's already kicked off and he's only been there half a day. Steve some-one-or-other." He sounded tired. "Want a drink with your coffee?" I asked. "Sounds like you need it." "Well, I shouldn't really, but what the hell, a small scotch if you've got one." I was pouring the drinks when an awful thought struck me. Steve. Stephen. Stephen what? Just at that moment Brian came through from the kitchen; his face was ashen as he slowly put the tray down on the table and looked at us both. "Stephen? Stephen who?" he said quietly. "Oh, shit!" Paul said, looking at Brian. "It can't be. What's Stephen's last name?" "Cox. Tall, thin and black hair." I said, seriously worried now. Brian hadn't moved an inch: I'd never seen him look so frightened and worried, like a rabbit caught in the car headlights. "Hold on, let me make a phone call," Paul said as he searched for his mobile. He rang the home and spoke to his deputy and after just a few seconds listening to half the conversation, our worst fears were confirmed, there was no doubt about it. Brian suddenly let forth a volley of abuse, burst into tears and ran upstairs sobbing. Paul and I stared at each other, shocked into silence by Brian's outburst. We followed him up the stairs and went into his room where we found him curled up in a ball on his bed, still crying. I sat on the bed and hugged him to me. "Why?" he said, "Why him? Of all the people in the fucking world it just had to be him, didn't it. I knew everything would go fucking wrong again." I waited until he calmed down a bit, not knowing what on Earth we could do to resolve the situation. My only concern at that point was Brian, who I'd never seen so upset: for some reason I thought that even given the fact that he'd had a run-in at school with Steven, there was something more behind his tears. Paul took the opportunity to go back downstairs as I comforted Brian as best I could. Eventually the tears stopped and I left him on the bed for a while as I went in search of Paul. "Christ!" I said as I sat down, "Where did all that come from?" Paul shook his head as he sipped his coffee, he was obviously deep in thought. After a while he told me that they'd taken Stephen into emergency care earlier that morning after some sort of bust-up at home. Apparently he'd been in a knife fight in the town and been arrested, and when he got home had had another fight with his parents who declared that they'd had enough of him. "Brian's right, though," Paul mused. "It'll be hard for him to live in the same house as Stephen, especially now." We were interrupted at this point by Brian's return. He was still visibly upset, his eyes red and his face tear-stained. He was also wearing his coat, ready to go. Sitting on the edge of the chair, he looked from one to another of us, his hands clasped in his lap. I felt desperately sorry for him, the worst part being that I was helpless to do anything about it. I looked at Paul for help. "OK," he sighed, "What's the problem, Brian? There's something you're not telling us, isn't there?" So, Paul had the same feeling I had. There was something else we weren't aware of. Brian sat for a few seconds before telling us that Stephen had been bullying him at school for weeks before the scene in the classroom, calling him names and hitting him when no one was around, picking fights with him and so on. He'd not said anything to anyone because he didn't want to be accused of being a tell-tale or anything, something which in his world simply wasn't done. Even the other boys in the class wouldn't forgive him for that, despite the awful situation he was in. Both Paul and I empathised with Brian, all he would succeed in doing was to end up leaping into the fire from the frying pan. "Can Brian stay here for the night?" Paul asked. "I think that all things considered, he would be better off here than coming back with me. I'll try to work something out tomorrow, but just for now it'd be simpler if he could sleep here tonight." I nodded, grateful that at least we'd solved the problem temporarily. Brian looked at me, still upset, not even acknowledging the fact that he was staying here where he was safe. Having sorted that out, Paul said that he aught to get back to the house and deal with their problems and that he would probably call me tomorrow to let me know what was going on. I showed him to the door and wished him luck. I thought my job was hard, but his must be a damn sight worse; on call 24-hours a day, seven days a week and trying to keep the lid on a gang of unruly teenagers, not knowing when or why things got out of hand. Brian was still sat with his coat on, staring into space - he hadn't moved an inch. I gently removed his coat and hung it on the back of a chair. Without any resistance at all he allowed me to take him across to the sofa where I lay him down with his head in my lap and stroked his hair. He put his arms round my waist, hung on tight and closed his eyes. Sometime later he stirred and gazed up at me, unsmiling. "Better now?" I asked. He nodded and managed a weak smile. I hadn't much of a clue what to do next, but there was always one thing guaranteed to cheer a boy up and so I asked if he was hungry. That raised a better smile and I pushed him off my lap and took him to the kitchen. We explored the freezer, dug out some beefburgers and had a busy half-hour making a meal for ourselves. By the time we'd eaten it, he was feeling a lot better and even managed to say how glad he was that he wasn't going back to the house. The subject of Stephen Cox we tacitly agreed was a closed book, at least for the time being. When it came to bed-time, for the first time in ages it was he who made the first move. Standing up, he stretched out and announced that he was going upstairs to bed. I looked at him and nodded, and said that I'd be up soon. An hour later I switched the tv off and climbed the stairs, curious as to where he'd chosen to sleep. I looked in his room first and was only mildly surprised to see the bed was empty, although he'd obviously been in it as the bedclothes were all over the place. I found him curled up in the middle of my bed, apparently asleep. As quietly as I could. I undressed and slid into bed alongside him, disturbing him as little as possible. The only sign that he was aware of my presence was that he cuddled up to me and mumbled something inaudible as he carried on sleeping. I put an arm over him and turned the bed-side light out, deciding not to read my book for a change. Looking down at his handsome face, I wondered, not for the first time, just how much he'd suffered in the past without being able to tell anyone, and what effect it'd had on him. I kissed him lightly on the forehead and gave him a very gentle squeeze. In response he stuck his thumb in his mouth and sighed. I had a restless night, thinking about a million things, mostly concerning Brian. Eventually in the early hours, I began to put things together which made some sort of sense. To begin with I was puzzled by his inexplicable changes in behaviour, from being an affectionate, childish 8-year old at times to an intelligent, wise-beyond-his-years mature young man. Then it dawned on me that he was in a way re-living his childhood, but this time knowing he was safe and secure in a loving environment where he wasn't subjected to unprovoked verbal or emotional abuse. I took comfort from the fact that consciously or not, he felt he was able to be a child when he felt the need and a normal young teenager when he felt otherwise. He had a lot of demons to exorcise in his own way, and only time would allow him to do this. The best thing I could do for him was just to be there, and love him no matter what. That I knew I was able to do unconditionally, in fact I suddenly realised, I couldn't imagine life without him any more. Turning over I kissed his sleeping face once more and made my mind up to make a phone call in the morning, perhaps the most important one I'd ever make. I was about to pick up the phone at break the following morning when I changed my mind about what I was going to do. Instead of putting my idea to Paul over the phone, I would go and see him personally. I dialled his number and asked if it was possible for me to come over and see him straight away. Once I'd calmed him down and told him that there wasn't a problem, he agreed. Fifteen minutes later I was in his office, feeling surprisingly nervous. After the usual chit-chat about nothing in particular, I broached the subject I'd come to talk about. "How would it be," I started, "If Brian stayed with me from now onwards and didn't come back here at all?" I looked anxiously at Paul, wondering how he would take my suggestion. It was only a few days before Brian was coming to stay with me anyway, and I hoped he was able to see that what I was offering made sense. There were probably all sorts of complications as far as 'the organisation' was concerned, many of which I didn't have a clue about, but my argument was the bottom line was that Brian was a very frightened, nervous boy who needed help now, not when 'the system' could get round to it. Paul steepled his hands in front of him and looked directly at me. "It'd need a few rules bending," he said thoughtfully, "But given the situation, I think we could get round those. My main concern is Brian's welfare and under the circumstances he would probably be at risk here. At least if he was with you, he would be spared that." He was now thinking out loud. "I could tell the staff he's had some serious problems in the past with Stephen Cox and that as he's going anyway, I've decided to move the date forwards. It's unusual but not unique, it could be done." Then, after a moments hesitation added, "Yes. OK then. Let's do it." I breathed an immense sigh of relief, and shook Paul's hand. "Thanks!" I said, more than pleased at the outcome of what could have been a very difficult conversation. I then saw a side of Paul I'd never seen before. In my limited dealings with him, he'd always been relaxed and easy-going, but now he was work mode. He picked the phone up, found his deputy manager and told him crisply that Brian was being moved out today, that his belongings were to be packed and his room cleared. He then spoke to his secretary and told her to prepare the paperwork for Brian's move. Then, to my surprise, said, "Leave the date as it is - for next week-end. I'll sort that out later." He grinned at me and said, "It'll make things too complicated if we bring it forwards without notice. It's only a couple of days anyway." Once more I was glad I was dealing with a realist and not a desk-bound 'jobsworth'. I thanked him once more and apologised that I now had to hurry back to school otherwise I was going to be late. On the way out I asked him one more question. "Will you tell Brian, or shall I?" "You can have that pleasure," he laughed. "I'll get his things sent to school later for you." I was due to teach Brian the last lesson that afternoon, but wanted to tell him before then in some sort of privacy. Unfortunately as soon as I got back to school I got involved in some disciplinary problem with one of my charges and I missed the chance of talking to Brian at lunch-time. I was also distracted by the arrival of Paul's deputy with his baggage. We took it to my room and lay it in the corner. I was a bit saddened as I realised that the suitcase, carrier bag and bin-liner dumped unceremoniously in the corner held Brian's entire world. Shrugging my shoulders, I promised myself that from now on, he was going to have a much better life than that. Before I knew it, the last lesson of the day arrived and I hadn't had a ghost of a chance of finding Brian to talk to him. When the class came bursting in, everyone took their places and looked at me expectantly. Still trying to work out how I could tell Brian the news, I told them to take out their reading books and read quietly to themselves for a while. I'd thought vaguely of taking Brian out of class for a minute or two and telling him, but I was forestalled. Glancing round the classroom, he saw the pile in the corner and stared at it for a moment. Slowly he realised what they were and as it dawned on him what they meant, his expression changed. He stood up and looked at me in stoned disbelief, his face showing a million emotions all at once, all of which were happy. He looked from the pile to me, back to the pile and back to me again. His arms were hanging by his side, his fists clenching and unclenching in utter amazement and sheer unadulterated delight. I nodded at him and smiled. I thought he was going to lose it for a second and embarrass us both, but with an immense strength of will he grinned broadly at me and sat down, not taking his glistening eyes off me for a second. I'd never felt as happy before as I did then, his look said everything I ever wanted and hoped for. I turned my back on the class for a second to pull myself together before walking over to Brian and putting a hand on his shoulder. I gave him an enormous wink and asked if he and David would like to put the suitcase and stuff in my car. If anyone was to ask me what we did in that lesson, I wouldn't have a clue. All I remember is Brian and me looking at each other every so often and grinning. When the lesson eventually ended, everyone bolted out of the door except Brian, who, having made sure the door was closed, ran to me and hugged me tightly, looking into my face. "Today? Now?" was all he could manage to stutter out. I nodded back at him, unable to speak, sharing his feelings. He clung on to me even more tightly and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, not caring who was watching. "Can we go now? Can I come home now?" he gabbled. "Please? Take me home." Who could resist? Ignoring everybody and everything else in school for once, I locked my door and we headed for my car, joining the throng of boys leaving the building. Once out of the school, I looked at Brian who was still grinning like a madman. "Hold my hand," he commanded, and before I could say anything he took a firm and possessive hold of me. He didn't even let go as I struggled to unlock the car door with my one free hand, staring almost defiantly at the other boys as they ambled past staring at us: 'He's mine!' he seemed to be saying. On the way home I quickly explained to him what the arrangements were, but I'm sure he didn't hear a word I said, he was much too excited. Once at the house, he grabbed my keys, opened the front door and held it open for me, still smiling. As soon as I was inside, he closed it behind us and leapt on me, kissing me all over my face before settling down and giving me a deep, tongue-twisting one. I held on to him, returning the kisses one-for-one. We were home, together, and the rest of the world could go stuff itself, our new life had started. Now, I wonder what I did with those adoption papers? Brian is Different 3 - Chapter One. Paul and I kept in close touch over the next few months, mainly because of Brian of course, but I also found that I liked him as a man as well. Like myself, he had found his niche in life, and although the material rewards weren't all that great, there was a certain satisfaction in watching errant boys turn themselves round and end up being quite reasonable characters. Not perfect by any means, but then who is? We agreed on one basic point which was common to both our jobs: that if nothing else, we could try and show the boys that life is what they make it. If they want to be villains and rogues then there is nothing we can do about it, all we can do is show them the consequences. Rightly or wrongly, a major part of our work is telling them about the 11th Commandment - "Thou shalt not get caught!". This should be taken to mean that they shouldn't do anything wrong in the first place of course, but add that to the other trite oft-repeated phrase, "If you can't do the time, don't do the crime", then between the two of them we cover most bases. As with Brian, and hopefully many other boys in similar situations, once they've been shown that there is a better, more pleasant way of life than the ones they've had in the past, then they improve by themselves given time. In the interim however, life can be hell for all concerned ......! Anyway, back Brian. Paul visited me and Brian once a week at first, as he promised. Initially they were official checking-up calls, but after a while they became more social than anything else especially when Brian took up swimming and photography as hobbies and spent a lot of his evenings at one club or another. I used to look forward to his visits as we could share a drink or two in my house in peace and quiet, relaxing and talking shop mostly. It was more than pleasing for me to report, honestly, than Brian had picked up a girl-friend at one of his clubs. I chose not to enlighten Paul as to his reasons, which Brian revealed to me in the early hours of one morning after we'd had a particularly sleepless night. Apparently he'd become aware of one or two comments being made about him not having a girl-friend or anything. There weren't any other sort of implications or comments made at the time, but Brian was astute enough to realise that unless he did something about it, then they wouldn't be long in coming. The way he told me was typical of Brian. As I intimated, we'd not slept much that night and were resting in each other's arms just holding each other as we often did when he asked me if I knew a girl called Karen. I knew very few girls of Brian's age as ours was an all-boys school, the only ones I knew were neighbours who lived nearby. It turned out that I knew her by sight as she lived about five houses away and went to the same swimming club as Brian. At first they just travelled to and fro together, but things being what they are, they soon became friends. I had to smile when Brian added quickly, "But there isn't anything in it though. We're just friends, that's all. We haven't done anything." I kissed him on the cheek and said, "What do you think if I thought you had?" He paused for a second before replying, "I think you'd be upset and be worried that I didn't love you any more." This was starting to get heavy now, too heavy for this time of night anyway, but having started the conversation, we had to see it through. I looked at him closely and told him that I was pleased he had a girl-friend, that he needed one and that it would be fun for him. I also explained to him that if the situation ever arose where he was going to have sex with her, then provided all the precautions were taken, then I wouldn't mind: there wasn't anything I could do about it anyway. I felt him move at this point and he let go of my dick which he'd been resting his hand on up until now. "Sure?" he said seriously. "Wouldn't it mean that I didn't, you know, love you as much?" I took a deep breath and forced my brain in gear properly. "Have you ever had any fun with another boy since we've been together?" I asked, stroking his cheek. He blushed slightly and didn't answer, which I took to mean that he had. "Well, when you did, it wasn't the same as when you and me do it, was it?" He shook his head. "And do you like me any less because you did, or do you think I would love you less because you did?" "No. It was only because we sort of felt, you know, randy sort of and it just happened at swimming once. It was with ...." I put a finger on his lips. "I don't want to know unless you want to tell me, that sort of thing should be just between the two of you." He smiled at me and I felt him relax a little as he settled down to cuddle me once more. After a while he leaned over and kissed me on the lips gently. There were tears in his eyes. "What're those for?" I asked as I wiped them away. "Don't know. It's just that I love you so much that it hurts inside sometimes and I don't know what to do. I couldn't like anybody like I love you, ever. And even if Karen and me `do it', it wouldn't be as good as when you and me ....." The finger came out again and I shut him up. "Don't say anything else, Brian," I whispered. "Let's just see what happens next shall we? You know I'll always be here for you, no matter what. The most important thing is that you be yourself and don't let other people tell you what to think or do." We'd both had enough deep conversation by now and drifted off to sleep cuddled together, Brian lapsing into his childish mode with his thumb in his mouth and head resting on my chest. We were still in the same position when we woke late the following morning, the only difference was that we both had giant erections. I gently stroked Brian's beautiful body as I ran the earlier conversation over in my mind. He must have been awake as he sighed contentedly, stuck his tongue out and licked my nipple. "That's nice, keep on." he mumbled. I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. "Morning, tiger!" I whispered. "You OK?" "Mmmmmm," he answered without opening his eyes. "Wanna cum." Still with his eyes closed, he wriggled himself round so he was laying across me, his boner standing up proud and his head on my arm. Slowly I worked my hand up and down his dick, watching idly as pre-cum drips from his slit. There was no hurry and we were both enjoying the laziness of it all. We spent ages like this, in that wonderful half-asleep, half-awake state, not ever wanting it to end. But it did. Suddenly, Brian opened his eyes and looked at me. "Hurry up," he said, "I gotta go to the toilet!" I noticed idly that he no longer used `piss' or any other similar words in my presence, one of the little ways he'd improved himself. Pushing this thought to the back of my mind, I concentrated on bringing Brian to as quick a climax as I could. He couldn't stand being stimulated just under his cockhead: it was guaranteed to give him the maximum of pleasure and produce results in double quick time, and this was no exception. I felt his butt cheeks clench together and within three or four strokes he came, his cum shooting high in the air and dropping like quicksilver onto our chests. He'd hardly finished shooting when he leapt out of bed and ran to the bathroom, holding his foreskin closed between his finger and thumb. I grinned to myself as the little boy-angel hobbled out of the bedroom, bent double with the urgent need to find a toilet and stop his cum from dripping onto the carpet. I fondled my own semi-rigid cock as I awaited his return. He wasn't too long in coming back, walking through the door with a beaming smile on his face and standing nakedly upright in the doorframe, his cock still half hard. "That's better!" he said, the relief showing in his voice. He didn't come straight back to bed, much to my surprise; instead he wandered around the room picking odd things up to look at before replacing them, gently rubbing his cock as he did so. I stared at him, amazed yet again at his beauty, and at his complete lack of embarrassment: for all I cared he could stay like that all day and I wouldn't complain once. As a sort of finale he stood in front of the window, legs slightly apart and hands on his waist, staring at me. For whatever reason, he was giving me a show, one which we both knew was guaranteed to get us aroused. I continued to admire him, my mouth dry and my hand now stationary on my dripping cock. If the thought Police ever found out what I was thinking, I would end up in prison for a million years! Brian wasn't quite finished yet though. He stepped gracefully across the room, his eyes locked on mine every step of the way. He lifted the bedclothes up, still staring at me and slid in the bed. Dropping his head down to mine, he kissed me hard, wrapping his arms round my neck and hugging me. Without once breaking our kiss, he wormed his way on top of me and slowly started to work his body up and down, masturbating himself on my navel. I folded my arms round his waist and held him lightly, letting him take charge. It wasn't long before I was sure he was about to orgasm as I felt his dick throb a couple of times, but before he climaxed, he suddenly sat upright and grasping my red-hot dick in his hand, thrust himself downwards on it. I slipped in without any trouble at all: the little monster had used the baby oil to lubricate himself whilst in the bathroom! He moved his hands to my chest and started to play with my nipples as he slowly rode me, I was in heaven, completely and utterly under his spell. I looked up at his face, now contorted with passion, his lower lip firmly gripped between his teeth, eyes screwed tight shut. For whatever reason, Brian was doing this for himself just as much as for me, and I was perfectly content for him to do whatever he wanted, as long as he was happy, which he undoubtedly was. With an urgent passion he began to bounce up and down on my groin: I gripped him firmly round the waist as he lost himself completely in his desperate need for satisfaction. It only took a few strokes before he orgasmed, massively and noisily. He screamed loudly as we climaxed simultaneously, my moans being drowned by his feral-like shout. Completely exhausted, he fell forwards on top of me, his whole body still shaking with the exertion of the past few minutes. He wasn't quite done yet though; with a last effort, he fell on my lips and kissed me. To be honest, I was a bit worried. I knew, like most of us, he could be almost aggressively violent in the throes of passion, but this was different, it was as if he wanted me to take everything he had; mind, body and soul, trying somehow to unite us with his love, both physical and mental. I lay back, just as spent as he was. When he was eventually capable of speech, I gave him a squeeze and kissed him on the cheeks. "That was wonderful!" I whispered. "Absolutely wonderful!" He half-grinned at me, and took a deep breath. "Never felt like that before." he said. "I just couldn't seem to stop myself. Look, I even bit myself!" He was right. On his lip were little specks of blood where his teeth had dug in. I swiped them off with a finger and licked it off. "Ughh! Vampire!" he laughed, and tickled me under the arms. We were soaking in the bath a few minutes later when he turned to me and said, out of the blue, "It could never be as good with Karen, or any one for that matter." His tone of voice told me that there was no need for an answer: he didn't need one. Instead I lovingly washed his hair. The episode was never referred to again, except once later in the day when he was tidying around upstairs when he came into the kitchen for some air freshener. "Don't know what you've been doing, but your bedroom smells like a brothel," he smirked. "Not that I'd know what one smelt like anyway!" He skipped away before I could think of a suitable reply. Chapter Two. Over the next few weeks we slipped into an easy routine, Brian spending most evenings out with his friends and most nights in my bed. Not that we had sex every night of course, neither of us had the stamina for that, it was simply the closeness and company that we needed and enjoyed. The only regular exception was Wednesday nights. That was the evening he went swimming with the gang, and also the night Paul came to visit. As a rule, Paul dropped by mid-evening on his way home about eight o'clock, just about the time Brian came home. Brian often brought three or four mates in with him, including Karen; Paul and I retiring to the lounge as they fed and watered themselves in the kitchen or in his bedroom. Often Paul would stay quite late having a drink and on these occasions Brian would take himself off to bed, coming downstairs to say goodnight to us in his pyjamas and dressing gown - they were probably the only times he wore them! He would always go to his own room to sleep of course, but I would usually find him crawling in to mine in the early hours. I also spent some time in the home which Brian used to live, apart from anything else it made a change of scenery for me and allowed Brian some time in the house alone which he enjoyed, never having had the experience before. It was on one of these visits that the subject of Stephen Cox came up. Apparently since being suspended from school he had a home tutor as nowhere else would accept him. All he had was the statutory minimum of five hours a week which was by no means enough to occupy either his mind or his time. I offered a few ideas as to what else he could do, even getting him a day's work experience with a local builder. I also learned, much to my amazement, that he also went to the same swimming club as Brian - something which Brian had never told me. A day or two later I brought the subject up over tea. Brian didn't seem at all worried by Stephen's presence, and even seemed surprised that I thought it worth mentioning. When I reminded him about the problems he'd had with him, he shrugged his shoulders and said that that was ages ago and it'd long since been forgotten about. Boys! I'd spent ages worrying over what would happen if ever they met in the street! When I asked why he'd never brought him back here, he simply said that he had to be back at the home by eight o'clock as he was still under a night-time curfew, and other than this there was no particular reason. It was rapidly approaching Brian's 14th birthday and I'd promised him a party, a special one as it was also the same month as the adoption should be approved. I had spoken about adoption to Brian several times and it didn't seem to bother him in the slightest: he couldn't see what difference it would make to his present situation. Once I'd explained that adoption meant that I was legally his guardian from that point onwards, and that social services, or anyone else for that matter, would no longer have any input to his life, he perked up and took more of an interest. His first question threw me completely. "Does that mean I got to change my name?" he queried. I couldn't work out where he was coming from with that one, his face not giving me a clue as to what his thoughts were. Over the months he'd been living with me, there had been a noticeable change in his attitude to his parents. Whereas at first he'd despised and even hated them for what they'd done to him, once he'd settled in with me, he gradually came to terms with it and even felt sympathy for them in a way as he realised it must have been heart-breaking for them to give him up, no matter what the circumstances. I wasn't at all sure of the legal situation with this one. I knew that under English law, you could call yourself whatever you liked, but your legal `given name' was that on your birth certificate. Whether you could change your name on things like passports and driving licenses I hadn't a clue - that was a question Paul could answer for me. Quite honestly I was against him changing his name. In my view by doing that you are denying the very existence of the people that brought you into this world and that somehow seemed immoral and very wrong. In the meanwhile though I thought I'd play it safe and told him that I thought he had to keep the name he was born with. He looked a bit downcast at that, but quickly cheered up when the subject of the party was brought up again. Between us we decided that we would have a biggish party on the Saturday at Pizza Hut for all his friends, followed by a small, more select get-together at home for his close friends on his proper birthday which was on the following Monday. I left him working on his list of invitations whilst I went to have an evening with Paul. I learned from him that changing your family name was easier than I thought, especially at Brian's age as he wasn't actually of legal adult age yet. All we had to do was swear some sort of legal statement with a solicitor and that was it. The only proviso was that you could never deny having been known as whatever name you had before. That sounded quite simple and straightforward. When I got home, the house was in darkness and Brian was already in bed reading - his own bed for a change. I made myself a hot drink and climbed the stairs, feeling tired. Poking my head round Brian's door to make sure he was OK, I was welcomed with a bright smile and a chirpy "Hiya!". We wished each other goodnight and I went to my own room. I'd only been in bed a few minutes and was half-watching the late night news on tv when Brian appeared, holding a book in one hand and some biscuits in the other. Wordlessly he climbed into bed and gave me a peck in the cheek. Once curled up against me he continued reading his book, thumb in his mouth. I was just about to drop off to sleep when he put his book down and said, "I'm going to change my name to yours when I'm adopted." I looked at him, instantly wide awake again. "Why?" I asked. "Keep the one you've got, I like it. Baxter is OK." I felt him stiffen slightly alongside me as he continued, "I checked it out on the internet whilst you were out, and I can change it to whatever I like and you can't stop me." He said this with such force that it made me jump; he was never this assertive as a rule. "But ....." I started to say. "Fuck you!" he suddenly said, "I AM going to change my name whether you want me to or not. What's wrong with it? I WANT to change it." Without further ado he burst into tears and ran out of the room into his, slamming his bedroom door behind him. I lay there for a few moments, stunned with the speed at which things had changed. Shit! I thought, now what have I done? Taking a deep breath I got out of bed, put my dressing gown on and went to his room. Knocking on the door I heard a bad-tempered "What?" Slowly I opened the door and asked if I could come in. He nodded sullenly before turning his back on me. "What's the problem?" I asked, being careful not to touch him. "You don't understand," he sobbed. "What?" I asked, puzzled. "I want to change my name. I live here now, with you and it was my choice as much as yours. I want to be your son and you won't let me." So that was it. I'd been incredibly stupid and selfish. He was right, at least in his own view, which was just as valid as mine - probably more so in this case. I started to explain why I thought he should keep his own name, but he shut me up. "I know all that, you've told me before. But it's me and you now, not my mum and dad. I don't even know who they are. Everyone knows me and you, and I want us to have the same name like everyone else. Why won't you let us?" He'd won, or at least persuaded me. If that was what he wanted and it meant so much to him, then that was what he'd get. Oddly enough, having made my mind up, or having it made up for me, I felt proud of him. And chastened at the same time. "OK," I said. "Then that's what we'll do. I'm sorry I upset you so much, I didn't think. I'd like it very much if we had the same name and became a proper father and son." He turned over and wiped the tears away. "Promise?" he whispered. "Of course. We'll do it as soon as the papers are through." "Brian Michael Anderson," he said to himself. "Yeah. I like that. Brian Michael Anderson." I did too. Chapter Three. It caused quite a stir at school when Brian started to change the name on all his books and things from Brian M. Baxter to Brian M. Anderson - not that it was in anyway official yet, but he wasn't going to let a little thing like that get in his way. From that day onwards he was known as Brian Anderson and simply refused to answer to anything else. Seven days later, Brian and I had a summons to attend court for the official adoption proceedings. It was an bit of an ordeal for both of us as this was the last hurdle we had to overcome and until the papers were signed by the judge, things still had a chance of going wrong. It was even more of a stress when, to my surprise, the judge put his pen down, stared round the court room and asked if there were any objections to my adoption Brian. We hadn't been warned that he would do this, and I felt Brian grab my hand and grip it as tight as he could, staring at me in disbelief. How long we sat there in shocked silence, I have no idea. I swear our hearts stopped beating until after an eternity, the judge said, "Very well then." and signed the papers. In fact the whole procedure had taken less than twenty minutes, twenty minutes which lasted a lifetime. We left the courtroom in a daze, only coming down to Earth when my solicitor handed me the adoption papers and shook my hand. I stuffed them in my pocket and looked at the second file he had in his hand. "I don't know whether you want to sign these now or not," he said trying his best to hide a smile. I knew what they were, but Brian hadn't a clue. I sighed dramatically and took them from him. "They're not mine, they're for someone called Brian Michael Anderson," I said, handing them back to him. Brian looked from one to the other of us, completely at a loss. "Oh, sorry," the solicitor said, "They must be for this young man then." He gave the single sheet of paper to Brian who skimmed through it, his face breaking out into a broad grin as he realised what they were. "What do I do?" he said breathlessly. Moving across to a small table, the solicitor took his pen out, handed it to Brian and said, "Sign your old name there, and your new one here." Brian scrawled his two names on the paper. The solicitor counter-signed the form, I added my name as witness, and the job was done. The young man in front of us was now my son both legally and by name. Courts are not the most cheerful places in the world, and I was acutely aware of the fact that for once they'd made two people very, very happy. I was certain that there would be nobody leaving that building today as grateful for them as we were. The solicitor stood up, shook my hand and Brian's, and left. I was almost knocked off my feet as Brian leapt at me and gave me the biggest hug ever. I was half-afraid he was going to kiss me as well, but somehow he managed to restrain himself thank goodness. Our celebrations were interrupted as I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned round to see Paul standing there, grinning just as broadly as Brian. "I just had to come and see what happened," he smiled. "This's what makes my job worthwhile. Congratulations." He shook my hand and gave Brian a hug. "You OK now?" he said, looking at Brian. "Yeah. And I changed my name as well. Look." He thrust the affidavit form in front of Paul who read it carefully. "I see. Well done, Mr. Anderson." He bowed slightly and grinned once more. "Right." he said brightly, "Let's go celebrate. Lunch's on me." He chose not to remind Brian that his name was already on the form as his former guardian. We got home late that afternoon, having had a very good lunch at Social Services expense, Paul taking great delight in informing us that that would be the last expense the services would have on the former Brian Michael Baxter, from now on Brian was totally my responsibility. Brian, naturally was as high as a kite and couldn't settle down to anything for more than thirty seconds. I even felt tired just watching him bounce around the house. In desperation I drew the curtains although it was nowhere near dusk yet, put a video on the tv and persuaded Brian to join me on the sofa. Within a few minutes, Brian had calmed down a bit and stretched out, his feet on the arm of the sofa and his head in my lap. "Hiya, dad!" he smirked at me, taking his thumb out of his mouth for a second. "Hiya, son!" I grinned back, running my fingers through his hair. Despite the excitement of the day, tomorrow was still a working day and we had to get some sleep in at some point. Around midnight, I dug Brian in the ribs and reminded him it was way past our bedtime. For once he didn't argue as he stood up and yawned. He leaned over to kiss me and was about to say something, but before he opened his mouth I put my hand across it and said, "I know. Don't say anything." I knew how he felt and roughly what he was going to say. The peace and solitude we'd had the past few hours said everything which had to be said. "Only one thing I've got to tell you," I started to say. Waiting until I had his full attention, I carried on, "Fathers and sons don't share the same bed. From now on you sleep in your own room." His face was a picture: for a moment I thought my attempt at humour had backfired again and I'd upset him. Slowly a wicked leer grew on his face as he realised I was having fun with him. "Stuff you. I'll race you upstairs, first in the bed keeps it, old man!" He had a head start on me of course, and by the time I reached my room he was already in bed, albeit still fully dressed. "OK, you win," I said, "but I'm not getting into bed with you fully dressed." "No problem!" he laughed, and proceeded to undress himself under the bedclothes. He knew me well enough to realise that I'd probably hog all the bedclothes if he got out of it. It didn't take very long for us both to drop off to sleep; it'd been a long day for us, and a tiring one as well. Neither of us stirred until the alarm went off at seven the following morning. Chapter Four. The day of the pizza party came far quicker than we expected and we spent the whole day arranging things. Brian, for some reason, had picked up a not altogether unreasonable idea that instead of getting little presents from everyone, he wanted to give them all something himself. I said that I thought it was a good idea and helped him pick out lots of little gifts for everyone he'd invited. Whilst we were out shopping for them, he once again amazed me with his talent for doing the unexpected. "These aren't really for my birthday," he said thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose they are really, but not like ordinary ones." "What do you mean?" I asked, curiously. "Well, I was thinking. It's really like being born again in a funny sort of way. I'll be 14 on Monday and I've got a new dad, a new name and a new age. It's sort of like being born again. Re-in ..... re-en ...?" "Reincarnation?" I prompted. "Yeah. That's it. Reincarnation. It's like being given a second chance and starting all over." On the way home I mused once more how much he'd grown up, and more important than that, how he was maturing into a bright, considerate young man, a son anyone would be proud to love. Not that I would tell him that of course, he already knew it. One of the guests he'd invited to the party was Stephen Cox. When I expressed my surprise at his being included, Brian said that he'd invited all the swimming club people and that included him; as far as he was concerned there was no need to exclude him. I was even more surprised when Stephen gave Brian a new wallet for his birthday, and not a cheap one either. In return, Brian gave him a small gift-wrapped parcel which I noticed had been kept on one side, obviously intended for a particular person. I was particularly interested who he gave it to because I knew what it was: a pair of bright red briefs he'd bought. I'd assumed they were for himself at the time, but when I saw him wrap them, I became curious. I longed to ask him who they were for, but didn't dare. I guessed that they were for the boy he told me he'd `messed about with' once or twice. That didn't worry me in the slightest, in fact I thought it was a nice present: I was simply being nosey. When the gifts were exchanged I noticed an eye contact which I knew from experience said a great deal more than the words did. Inwardly I sighed as once more as the strange working of adolescent brains threw me. On reflection I was glad that Stephen and Brian were friends, although I wasn't too happy with their apparent closeness. I still didn't trust him, or like him very much. Nevertheless I spoke to Paul the following day and told him that Brian was now friendly with Stephen, the past having been forgotten about. Paul was grateful for the information and in fact agreed that Stephen could come to the other smaller party for Brian provided that I took him home afterwards. The only little problem I had now was how to tell Brian. Not being able to think of anything subtle, I decided the direct approach was best. When we were sat watching tv that evening, I told Brian that I'd been to see Paul and how pleased he was that Stephen seemed to be improving. "Yeah," Brian said non-committally, although I could tell he was interested. "Yes," I continued. "And Paul says he's allowed out at night now, provided he knows where he is and what he's doing." That got Brian's undivided attention and he turned to look at me, knowing there was more to come. "Would you like him to come to your party on Monday?" I asked, looking straight at him. Brian knew exactly what I was saying. I was acknowledging their friendship and giving tacit approval to it. "You know don't you?" he whispered. "Me? I know nothing!" I joked. "Just glad you get along now is all." Brian sat for a while, thinking. "You don't mind?" he said. I knew he wasn't just talking about the party. "He's your friend and I wouldn't dream of telling you who you can and can't be friendly with. The only thing I would say to be careful." "You don't like him much, do you?" "He's given me no reason to like him," I replied. "But, if like you say, he's changed then that's OK. You know him better than I do." Brian moved to sit beside me, picked my arm up and draped it across his shoulder, keeping hold of my hand. This I'd learned was his way of telling me that he wanted to have a serious conversation. "You know he was abused, don't you," he said quietly. "No, I didn't, but I'm not surprised. That's probably why he is, or was, so aggressive with everybody." "Yeah. But it wasn't just being knocked about though. He was, well, you know, the other as well." Brian was drawing circles with his finger in the palm of my hand as he spoke, staring into the distance. He wasn't finding this conversation easy, but in his own way was trying to explain Stephen's behaviour. "But you were abused as well, weren't you?" I continued. "Yeah, but that was different. I wasn't forced and I could always have said `no' I think. In any case, it didn't happen very often." "I see." A lot of things fell into place and I suddenly understood where their friendship came from. I wanted to know how Brian found out, but couldn't ask, that would be a step too far. If Brian wanted to tell me, then he would, but in his own time and in his own way. "So," I carried on, "You're good friends now?" "Sort of. He's OK. He's good to be with mostly and we have some good fun. I think he's just glad to have someone to talk to sometimes. Like I used to be." "Feel sorry for him, then?" I asked. "Dunno. Sometimes. I used to, but now he's not being fuc.... messed with anymore then I think he should try to forget it and start again. I did." "Yeah, but you were lucky. You and me got together and helped each other and we liked each other as well." A thought suddenly struck me. If Stephen had shared his confidences with Brian, how much had Brian told him? Brian turned his head to look at me: somehow he'd sensed what I was thinking and was waiting to see if I was going to say anything. After a while I felt him relax and he whispered, "He knows nothing." I lifted him up and hugged him. Lifting his chin up, I kissed him gently on the lips. He rested his arms on my shoulders and kissed me back. "Thanks for not asking," he whispered. We sat quietly for another hour or so before Brian turned to me and with that evil grin of his said, "I'm ready for bed. Coming?" The hand that was feeling around for my dick left me no choice. The little party I'd arranged for Monday night was a very select gathering of Brian's closest friends: Stephen, Karen, Paul and two of the boys from my class at school, co-incidentally who were in care as well although not with Paul. We had a rather formal meal for a change although I'd cheated a bit by getting some outside caterers to provide it for us. It wasn't every day that Brian and I sat round the dining table and had a proper sit-down type dinner, and I suspect it wasn't all than common for the others either. We even opened a bottle of wine or two to help things along. All in all it was a very good evening all round. After we'd eaten Brian was given some nice gifts from everyone, including a wrist watch from Paul. I gave him a new camera, a rather expensive one in fact, and a signet ring with his name engraved on it. After the gifts were given, we all looked at him, waiting for him to say something: and for the first time in his life I suspect, he was speechless. I think it was only Paul and I who knew he was on the verge of tears, the other's assuming he was just lost for words. Eventually he said a few things which went down well with everyone, most of all Karen and Stephen who got some special thank-you's. We played a few board games after the table was cleared, Karen and Brian soon losing out and adjourning to watch a video until we'd all finished. It was only with a little surprise that I noticed them coming back into the room looking a little flushed as we were clearing things away. Not long after that the party broke up and everyone made their way home, well satisfied. Brian and I took one look at the disaster area that was once our dining room, shrugged our shoulders and went upstairs arm in arm. Once in bed, Brian snuggled up to me and gave me a hug. "Got a present for you," he whispered in my ear. I kissed him and felt for his dick, which was already stiff with expectation. He pushed my hand away and said, "No, not that, silly, you can have that anytime. It's this." He reached under the pillow and pulled out a little purple box which he opened and took out a silver locket on a chain. "Here, this's for you." I took it from him and opened it. Inside were two little pictures, one of him and one of me. It was beautiful: not something for everyday wear of course, but something to keep and treasure. I was about to thank him properly when he giggled and took it back. "Here," he said, "You haven't seen the best bit yet." He fumbled with a little catch I'd failed to notice and the locket sprang apart revealing two little glass-fronted compartments behind the pictures. I stared at them, more than curious as to what was held inside them. I didn't dare tell him what I thought they were, but I had no need to. He broke into a fit of giggles as he tried to explain what they were. "Toe nail clippings and hair!" he stumbled out eventually. Even for Brian, this was far out. I looked at him questioningly, not understanding the implications in the slightest. "I read somewhere that the Victorians used to keep things like that with their babies first nail clippings and hair from their first haircut in them. It seemed a nice thing to do, so I got one for you. They ain't my first nail clippings of course, I had to use my fingers for those, but the hair is from my first hair cut!" It took me only a fraction of a second to realise what he meant. Still giggling, he lifted the bedcovers up and showed me his groin. Right down the middle, above his cock was the clear signs of a shave. He'd must've used my razor to shave off a narrow strip of pubic hair, which he'd put in the locket! I joined him in his giggles, kissing him lightly in thanks. "I don't believe you!" I said, "You're mad. Loveable, handsome, and delicious, but mad all the same." We kissed again, more tenderly this time. When we broke our kiss, he said quietly, but still with that jovial edge to his voice, "You can keep it as long as you don't tell anyone where the hair came from. That's our secret." I nodded, still not quite believing what he'd done. "Oh, and just one more thing. That white stuff sticking the hair in isn't glue." I stared at him in absolute disbelief. He wouldn't. He couldn't. "Gotcha!" he laughed. "Gotcha! Gotcha! It is glue, honest. But I did think about it though!" We rolled about the bed laughing and giggling for ages, happy as happy could be. For once the world was on our side and it was wonderful. When we'd calmed down a little, he rested his head on my chest, catching his breath. "Got one last present for you," he said quietly. "What's that, tiger?" I whispered. "Me." He crawled up my chest and kissed me deeply and lovingly as only he could. It was full of tenderness and passion: it was all the thanks I needed from him, it said infinitely more than anything else that had happened over the past few days. "Make me cum?" he whispered. And I did. Twice. First by sucking him off to a delightful rapid orgasm, and then spending an age with his adorable dick deep inside me as he slowly proved his love once more in the way he knew best. Oh, and we did it again in the early hours just before we had to get up, but this time I gave him a another present from me which he accepted with joy and happiness. Brian stayed off school that day, apart from the fact that he was plainly exhausted, the house needed a good sorting out if ever we were to live in it again. Chapter Five. Stephen became a regular member of the after-swimming group and after a while even became friendlier towards me once he'd realised that no grudges were born. We only had one episode which could have been difficult and that was on his second or third visit. Brian took us both into the kitchen and told Stephen in front of me that I knew about them `messing about together' and that I was OK with it. There was a flash of anger in Stephen's eyes for an instant and I was prepared for a fight, but it instantly disappeared to be replaced with a shame-faced bush of embarrassment. I sat on the table and looked at them both, not quite knowing what to say to either of them. It was Brian who broke the ice by saying, "I don't keep anything from my dad. Well, not very much anyway!" he added, giggling and looking me straight in the eye. "And I think it's better he knows so's we don't have to be scared of him finding out." This was a new experience for Stephen, unsurprisingly and he didn't know what to make of it. It wasn't very subtle of Brian to bring the subject up in the way he did, but on the other hand, I couldn't think of a better way and I'd always taught him to face life head on if he could. At least you had to admire him for that. Brian came and sat alongside me on the table. "Can I tell him the other stuff as well?" Brian said quietly to Stephen. Stephen was cornered and I even felt sorry for him for the first time ever since I'd known him. He'd been dropped into an intolerable situation with no easy way out. He nodded slightly at Brian who clasped his hands in his lap and said very quietly, "Stephen was sexually abused." That's all he said and all he needed to say at that time. At least it was now an open secret between the three of us. I took a step towards Stephen and put an arm round his shoulder. He didn't move. "It's alright now though, isn't it? I mean, it's stopped hasn't it?" He nodded, still staring intently at the floor tiles. "Good. At least it's over then. We won't talk about it ever again if you don't want to, but now you know that I know about it, maybe I can help a bit. If there's anything you want to ask, come to me or talk to Brian and between us we might be able to sort things out somehow." Stephen glanced up at me and I recognised the look instantly, I'd seen it a good many times before. We'd crossed the first hurdle: Stephen knew there was no need for him to be aggressive or abusive to either me or Brian any longer. We were on his side. Opening the `fridge door, I threw each of them a can of Coke and told them to push off back to the living room and enjoy themselves. I joined them five minutes later, and was glad to see Stephen laughing and joking with the others as if nothing had ever happened, only the secretive glance we exchanged was different. I sighed inwardly as I realised I'd that just taken on board another problem which wasn't going to go away easily. I must have been severely pre-occupied after this event because it was only later when Brian and I were resting on the sofa that he asked me if I'd noticed Karen wasn't there tonight. I admitted that I hadn't noticed and apologised. "Oh that doesn't matter. It's just that we're not going out together anymore. Just thought I'd tell you in case you put your foot in it." He didn't seem too concerned or pissed off about it, in fact I think I even detected a note of gladness in his voice. "Why? What went wrong?" He giggled and squirmed in my arms. "Well, it's sort of funny in a way. You know the other night, when we had my party here when she came." "Yeah." I replied cautiously. "Well, when we lost out and disappeared for a bit, we went upstairs to my bedroom." "Oh, yes," I said now definitely intrigued. "When we got there, we kissed a bit on my bed and then she put her hand, you know, down here." He demonstrated by resting his hand on his groin and rubbing his dick through his trousers. "Then she played with it until it got hard. I didn't mind that, it was OK, but then she undid my zip and put her hand inside and took it out and started to, you know, try and make me cum." "Lucky boy!" I grinned. "No way!" he answered, half-smiling. "You'll never guess what she did next!" "What?" "She took her jeans and knickers off and showed me her, you know, bits. Then she lay down on my bed and wanted me to do it to her." "You're joking!" I said, now well and truly surprised. "What? In your bedroom while we were downstairs?" "Yeah. But we didn't cause my dick started to go soft when I looked down at her. I just didn't want to do it." I couldn't tell from the tone of his voice whether he was disappointed or what, but he didn't seem too upset. "Anyway," he carried on, "She got a bit ratty and said did I want to or not and if I did, hurry up. I told her that I didn't want to in case you heard us downstairs or someone came in the room. That made her really pissed off," he giggled, "and that's when we came downstairs. She's hardly spoken to me since." "You weren't upset then?" I asked. "Naah. It's funny though, I went soft when I was with her, but I'm getting hard now `cause I'm with you." He turned up to face me and smiled. "That says something, doesn't it?" "Sure," I replied, "You're just a badly adjusted, mixed-up teenager who doesn't know a good thing when it offered to him on a plate." "Piss off!" he grinned, "You know what I mean." "Yes. But don't give up on the girls yet." "OK." he replied and stuck one hand down his trousers to play with his now full-grown erection and the other provided a thumb to go in his mouth. "It's nearly bed-time," I told him a little later. "Made your mind up where you're sleeping tonight yet?" "Mmmmmm. Talking about Karen and stuff's made me horny. With you." "No chance. If that's how you feel, you'd better sleep in your own bed and sort your own little problem out." He didn't even bother to look at me. "No chance, unless you wanna try sleeping in my bed with me." he said quietly. Then he giggled again and said, "Wanna know something?" "Go on." "You made me think. I haven't wanked myself off once since I came to live here." For some reason we both thought this hilariously funny and giggled as we started to kiss for a while before wending our way upstairs to bed. Things quietened down both on the home and school fronts for a while and we once more settled down to the hum-drum routine of day-to-day living. The difficulties I expected at school with having my new son in my own class never materialised once the initial novelty had worn off and Brian coped remarkably well with the odd asinine comment he got from the boys. As he said to me once, what they did or said to him didn't matter any more, he had a home and a dad and that was all that mattered. The only cloud on the horizon was Stephen Cox. Not that he was a problem, it was just that I thought he was a time bomb waiting to explode. He started to stay on a bit after the others had left on their swimming nights, not to talk so much I think, just to enjoy the pleasures of a normal home life for as long as he could. I also gathered from Brian that their sexual exploits has dropped to almost zero, which pleased me. The start of a major change was when Stephen called round one evening when he knew Brian was out, claiming that he'd forgotten. I invited him in nevertheless and we shared a Coke between us. There was an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes until he said nervously, "Can I ask you something?" "Yeah, of course. What is it?" "How much has Brian told you about me?" "Nothing apart from what we said in the kitchen. Why?" "I've told him a bit about what they did to me, but not everything and it's being getting to me." I settled back in the chair and steeled myself for a long evening. "Go on," I invited, feigning a smile and as must interest as I could muster. What he told me over the next half-hour shook me to the core. He went on to say that his parents had split up when he was about ten years old, and that he was shuttled from one to the other randomly: when one or other got fed up with him, he would be moved. Unfortunately in the middle was a mutual friend of both parents who kept in touch and acted as go-between This man had started touching and fondling Stephen almost from day one. To begin with Stephen didn't know what to do, and when he summoned up the courage to tell him mum and dad, they didn't believe him and so the abuse not only continued but got worse. Within two years he was being subject to regular and frequent serious abuse, details of which he left me to guess at. What was even more surprising, and the reason for Stephen's visit was what happened next. For whatever reason the man that had been abusing him had suddenly left the area, which would have been about 18 months ago I worked out: Stephen was now nearly 15. "At first I was glad he'd gone, but then I had no friends or anyone to talk to and so I started getting into trouble at school and things." he continued. He paused, trying to work out what to say next. "I started going to public toilets and other places so's I could, you know, do things. I also got money for doing it as well so I started doing it more and more." He took a deep breath and looked at me sadly. For the first time I felt sorry for him. It was obviously hard for him to talk like this, especially the last bit. I also suddenly realised how lonely and mixed up he was, despite the outward show of bravado and cockiness, he was a very sad young man. "Yeah, I said, "But that's all over now, isn't it?" I found myself sitting next to him and automatically I put an arm on his shoulder. This surprised me as much as it did Stephen and I felt him freeze as I touched him, but he made no move away from me and after a few seconds he relaxed enough to carry on. "Last year I got picked up by the Police for messing about in the toilets near the station. They didn't do anything to me, but told me to stay away from those places in future. That's when I moved back to my mum's and came to your school." "I see," I said, but in fact I didn't see a thing. "So," I said cautiously, "What's happening now?" "Fuc... Err ... nothing much." He stopped, and after a second or two added, "That's why I'm pissed off I think. I sort of miss it." Oddly enough I now understood precisely how he felt; I'd been through the same thing myself when I was much younger, although it was by no means as traumatic as Stephen's experiences. Even Brian hadn't had anything like it happen to him, although he'd had some bad times. I also understood the friendship that had grown between the two boys. But what could I do next? What did he want me to do? "Does anyone else know all this?" I asked. I was thinking of Paul and the others at his home. "No, not really. My mum knows a bit I think, but she ain't ever said anything about it." "Paul and the others?" "No. Nothing." "So why tell me?" I said, then instantly regretted it. It sounded as if I didn't want to know and didn't want to get involved - the last thing he wanted to hear just now. "Sorry!" I said quickly, "Don't answer that. I didn't mean it to sound the way it did. It's just that it's all come as a bit of a surprise." "Yeah. Well. I thought you might listen and understand. You and Brian can talk about these things, but I can't talk to anybody else can I? It doesn't matter. I'll go." He began to stand up, but I pressed him down again, back onto the chair. "Wait. Let me think for a minute." "Can I ask you a direct question?" I said. "You needn't answer if you don't want, but it might help." He nodded. "Are you gay? No. Don't answer that. Do you think you're gay? That isn't quite the same question." "Yeah. When I first started messing about, I didn't mind really and after a bit I got to like it. The only thing I didn't like was that Tony hurt me every time he did it, but then I got used to it and didn't mind. I must be gay cause I can't seem to stop wanting to do it." How or why people started to call people such as Stephen, or Brian and me for that matter, "Gay", I'll never understand. The last thing Stephen felt was happy. There certainly isn't anything gay or even nice about some aspects of the lives of homosexual men or boys. I wish there was another, more acceptable word than `gay', and homosexual is far too clinical and technical. "OK," I said after a pause. "We've made a start. Let's take it from here." I tried to be as upbeat as I could and smiled at Stephen. "Now it's all out in the open, let's try and work something out. First, thing is do I call you Stephen or Steve? You can call me John if you like." "Steve." "Good. Now the next thing. Do you want me to tell Paul for you? Or anyone else?" "No. Not yet. You can tell Brian though if you want." "OK," I said. "I'll think about that one." Then an awful thought struck me. "You know," I said slowly, "What you've just told me puts me in rather a delicate position. If what you've told me is true, and I don't disbelieve you, then I'm supposed to inform the Social Services and the Police don't you? What that man did to you, whether you wanted him to or not, was illegal and a serious offence." Stephen froze again and stared at me, frightened out of his wits. "I didn't know. I didn't think. What?....." "Nothing," I said. "I'm breaking the law myself, but so far only me and you know about this conversation, and we can always deny it I suppose if ever we were asked." He breathed a sigh of relief and even managed a pale smile. "Thanks." he said quietly. "And one more thing. I shan't say anything to Brian just yet. I think you should tell him. Tell him that you've been to see me and you've told me everything. You can trust him, he won't say anything to anyone else, but it'll mean you have someone else to talk to apart from me. Believe me, Brian will understand. He's been through more than you know, but don't tell him I told you." "Thanks." he said again. "Right. End of conversation," I said. "Let's have a drink. Want some tea or coffee?" "Coffee, please." Whilst I was in the kitchen I glanced at the clock and realised that Brian was due home very shortly. I wasn't sure how he would react to finding Stephen here when he arrived home and so sent him a quick text message telling him. As I was making the drinks, I got a reply just saying "OK". At least that was one possible problem forestalled I thought as I took the cups to the living room. We were half-way through our drink when the Brian bounced in, grinning all over his face. "Hiya dad!" he said as he threw open the living room door. Then he saw Steve, and give him his due, acted as if he didn't know he was here, looking surprised and delighted at the same time. "Oh, hiya Steve! What you doing here?" "I forgot you were going out and came round to see you. Your dad and me have been talking waiting for you to come back." "Right," Brian said cheerfully. He gave me a quick questioning look, and carried on, "You OK?" "Yeah. Ace," Steve replied. "Look, I gotta be going. See you tomorrow?" "Oh. OK then." They left the room together and were away for nearly ten minutes, talking quietly in the corridor. I heard the front door close and Brian came back, sitting on the sofa with me. He looked at me questioningly, waiting for me to say something. "What did he tell you?" I asked, looking back at him. "That he'd told you stuff about himself. What'd happened to him and what he'd been doing and things." "So." I said. "What do you think?" "Dunno. I'd guessed most of it from stuff he'd said, but I didn't know he'd been caught doing it." We compared notes on what we'd learned about Steve and decided that we would try and help him as much as we could, although neither of us had a clue as to what we could do. The subject was dropped as Brian told me about some photographic exhibition that was being arranged at his club and we chatted about that until bedtime. It was later, when we were in bed that the subject of Steve came up again. We were caressing each other gently when Brian said, "I feel sorry for Steve somehow. Not because he's gay or anything, but he ain't got no one to talk to. Or be with," he added smiling and giving me a kiss. "Mmmm." I replied, kissing him back. "Now there's a thought. That might help." Brian nestled against me and wrapped his arms round my chest. "Yeah. It would," he said sleepily. With these thoughts in my mind, I held Brian and drifted off to sleep. Chapter Six. As time went on, Steve became a regular visitor to the house, dropping by whenever he felt like it. He didn't seem to mind whether Brian was there or not, although he never stopped too long when he was out. One of the spin-offs was that he almost always came with Paul whenever he came to call, the two boys taking themselves off to Brian's room. Paul thought it was a good idea that the two boys spent some time together, and once he knew I didn't mind him calling round agreed to let things carry on. I also learned from Brian that he and Steve were also `messing about' a bit once in a while, although Brian did take pains to point out that they never did anything in our home, or that it ever went beyond mutual jerking off. When I asked him if Steve had ever tried to do anything more than that, we got into a major row, ending up with Brian in tears, angry with me for even thinking that he would do anything with anyone else, least of all Stephen. I felt duly chastened, but despite my apology, it was three days before he got over it: they were the worst three days of my life. On the subject of Steve, once we were talking again, Brian said that he was getting better in some ways, although he still lost his temper once in a while, but they were still good friends. I also learned that he'd `been through' most of the other boys in the home, managing to `have a bit of fun' with most of them, but as yet he hadn't found anyone he liked enough to become close with. Luckily both Brian and I understood Steve's situation and although we knew what he was doing was wrong, accepted it as something he couldn't do much about. We even had an amusing evening discussing all the boys we knew, trying to pick one out for him. Along the way I learned one or two very surprising things about the boys in my school, several of whom I thought I knew well. I even earned several painful digs in the ribs from Brian when he caught me looking at the boys we'd discussed. "You're turning into a dirty old man!" he whispered in my ear on one occasion in class when he saw me staring at one particular lad. He grinned cheekily at me as he walked away, knowing full well that I wasn't able to say anything back. We also had a bit of fun `people watching' once in a while, particularly when we were in a cafe or shopping mall. It would usually start with Brian nodding in the direction of an especially good-looking boy, "Bet he does," he'd giggle and poke me in the side. "Rubbish," I'd retort, and finding the most unappealing man I could would reply, "Naah, he's more your type." We would continue this banter until we had to stop, either because we got the giggles, or more often, one of us would get a boner. On more than one occasion we had to prolong our stay in a cafe until we were able to leave without embarrassing ourselves or the natives! Brian and I were playing the `people watching' game one Saturday morning when I happened to glance over at the travel shop and it occurred to me that we'd never has a holiday together yet. I'd never bothered in the past as I was quite content to laze around the house when school was closed, and Brian I didn't know about. I guessed the only one's he'd been on were with social services, and they would have been quite basic. Turning the idea over in my mind, I asked Brian if he'd ever had a holiday. It turned out I was more or less right. The only ones he'd had were in holiday camps with the other kids in the homes, taken at the end of season when it was cheap. Brian, now able to read my mind like a book, did no more than run across to the travel shop and grab a handful of brochures. He dropped them on the table with a broad grin and started to skim through them. I could see I'd started something I would probably live to regret! When we were idly chatting about it later that evening, I was surprised to find out that Brian didn't really like the idea of a `sun and sea'-type holiday, he was more attracted to the activity type, "But not too active!" he grinned. "I don't want to come back looking like Mr Universe!" We found what seemed to be a reasonable compromise for us both, satisfying my need for a restful break whilst at the same time offering a range of different activities for Brian. Based in a hotel, you had the choice of such things as horse-riding, sailing, rock climbing and so on. Or nothing except the hotel. Even better, it was in England which meant no hassle with passports or aeroplanes and so on. Apart from anything else, we hadn't as yet bothered to get a passport for Brian. In bed that night, Brian was still thinking about the holiday. He'd brought a note pad with him and was laid alongside me, making notes. I watched idly as he planned a week's activities for himself and worked out the cost. At the end of it, he showed me the result, and to be honest was a little surprised at how inexpensive it was. Not cheap by any means, but still good value. Mentally shrugging my shoulders, I realised what had been an off-the-cuff comment had now got me into a holiday I didn't expect. One day I'll learn to keep my mouth shut! "OK, then," I sighed. "Tell me about it." We went through it together, and after one or two changes, agreed that it was a good idea. "Can we book it then?" he said excitedly, bouncing up on my chest. "Please? Pretty please?" I gave in with good grace and nodded my head. "Brilliant!" he almost shouted. Calming down just a little, he kissed me quickly on the lips and lay down on top of me. "I love you," he said, "Really and truly." "Rubbish! It's only my money you want, and a free holiday!" I grinned back. "No, it's not," he said, now serious. "You know it isn't." He'd changed instantly from the excited, happy boy to the sensuous, adorable teenager I loved more than anything in the world. He knelt astride me, leaned down and kissed me, his tongue desperately searching out mine. I clasped my hands behind his back and returned the kiss. "Let's have some fun," he whispered softly. "Can we?" I nodded, and with a beaming smile, turned round and presented his beautifully erect dick to my mouth. As I absorbed it, I was dimly aware he was busily licking mine, making sure he gathered up every drop of my pre-cum and swallowing it. I gasped as he took me into his warm, moist mouth and started to work his tongue round my cockhead, finding that magical spot which threw me into fits of ecstasy. I sucked on Brian's cock for all I was worth, marvelling once again at its deliciousness. We kept pace together, totally immersed up in our mutual pleasuring, concentrating solely on each other. No matter how many times we did this, and it'd been a good many by now, every time was like the first, and I shivered with pure delight. Brian, as usual, came quite quickly and I hungrily swallowed every drop he gave me. Unusually though, this time he didn't pull out, he was still sucking and licking mine, not pausing at all, hardly noticing he'd orgasmed. I sucked a little more on his still rigid cock and took his last few drops just as I felt myself start to climax. "Coming!" I managed to stammer out of my cock-filled mouth. He nodded quickly and sucked even harder as I throbbed and jetted deep into his throat, his tongue and delicate fingers easing every last miniscule drop out of me. He also managed to shoot another few drop of cum into my mouth at the same time. Just as soon as I started to soften, he released me and hurriedly settled himself between my legs. "Lift up! Quick!" he gasped. Before I could do anything, he'd lifted my legs up to his shoulders and pushed his saliva and cum-slickened dick against my hole. With only a little dart of pain, he entered me, slowly pushing down until he was deep inside me. "Aaaaagh!" he sighed, "That's good." After resting for a second, he began to work himself back and forth, moaning with pleasure on each stroke, his dick still as hard as steel. Using its full length, he thrust backwards and forwards, gently at first, but soon building up to an urgent and frantic speed. "Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!" he stammered out on each thrust. "Gonna - gonna - cum!" he shouted out breathlessly as with one last desperate lunge he buried himself deep inside. Panting and sweating profusely, he fell on top of me, eyes glazed. Clamping his hands over my ears, he kissed me, painfully hard before collapsing. "That was good!" he said after a while, "Really good." I held him gently as he smiled tenderly up at me. "I'm knackered," he grinned. "Three times. Never done that before." "You're wonderful," I sighed. "Wonderful." The following evening I was honoured with a visit from Steve, once again without Brian being home. We chatted as usual about all sorts of things: nothing odd about that, but there was a definite edge to his voice which I didn't quite understand. It wasn't aggressive or anything, in fact quite the contrary, he seemed rather more relaxed than normal, but there was a definite nervous edge to it. He was also rambling on a bit, like one does in a stressful situation. What concerned me most though was the occasional glance he gave me, one which I was familiar with. He left after a while, my unasked questions unanswered. I mentioned this to Brian when he came home, at least the conversation part; I didn't tell him about the looks I was getting. Brian thought for a while and then said that he'd try and find out what it was all about for me. Why did I have vaguest of feelings that Brian knew something he wasn't telling me? It was the following week-end that I found out. We'd driven up to the activity centre to have a look round. It seemed OK and after a quick chat, made the booking and started our drive home. Brian seemed to be in a pensive sort of mood; curled on the seat and staring into space. He was thinking about something or other and I left him to it, resting my hand on his waist once in a while and stroking him. He wriggled a couple of time, smiled at me and resumed his thinking. When he spoke, he shook me rigid. "You know he fancies you, don't you?" "Who? What?" I said, temporarily confused. "Steve. That's why he came round the other night. That's why he comes round when I'm not there." "You're joking," I said, thoroughly taken aback. "I've never even thought about him like that." "I know," he said. "We had a talk after he came round last week and he sort of told me. Not just like that. Sort of hinting and stuff. He asked if we ever did anything." I almost lost control of the car when I heard this and Brian sat up. This was disturbing news to say the least. "What did you say?" "I said he asked if we ever did anything." "No, not that what did you tell him?" Brian stared at me for a second before saying, "Nothing." I knew I'd asked the wrong question, and although I'd pissed him off a bit, he soon got over it and carried on, "I think he might have guessed though. He made some comment about my bed never being used. And he saw a pair of my pants under your bed." "Christ!" I said vehemently and felt the muscles in my stomach tighten up. I glanced over and saw Brian smiling ever so slightly. He didn't seem all that concerned and so I relaxed ever so slightly. At least, I thought, if Brian's not worried, then there's probably no need for me to worry too much. "I just didn't answer him when he asked about you and me and he sort of smiled a bit and said `lucky bastard' or something. I said that whatever we did was nothing to do with him and not to talk about it again." I relaxed a bit more, but was still very apprehensive. I knew how dangerous knowledge of that sort was, and also how spiteful Steve could be. I also knew Steve could keep secrets, and hoped that this was one of them. I voiced my concerns to Brian and he made me feel a lot better when he told me that if nothing else, the last thing on Earth Steve would do was talk about that sort of thing. He was terrified of his own past being made general knowledge, which it almost certainly would if he talked about it. "So what do we do?" I said. "Not me. You," Brian said. "I think you should do something with him. You know." This time I stopped the car and stared at Brian. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" "Yeah. You don't mind me messing with him, and I wouldn't mind you messing with him either." He broke into a grin as he went on, "As long as you don't go too far! Or too often!" I was in no mood for smiling. He could see I was still very worried and added, "Think about it. First of all it'd stop him talking about it to anyone else once he'd done things with you, and secondly he wants to anyway." Much as I disliked the idea, the more I thought about it, the more I thought he was probably right. "What about you?" I said. "I don't think it's fair to you. I don't want anybody else except you. You and me do it because we love each other, not for some five-minute gratification or my bloody hormones playing up!" for some reason I was getting angry, not made any easier because I didn't know why. So was Brian. "Do you know what it's like not being wanted? Being in care? Nobody talks to you, nobody takes any notice of you, everything you do is watched, controlled and supervised. You haven't any control of your life, you've even got to tell `em when you go for a fucking piss! Imagine what it's like if you're gay as well." I'd never seen Brian so angry before. His face was bright red with anger, his eyes wide open and staring at me, his breathing fast and shallow. "Why do you think I let him wank me once in a while? Because I want him to? Because I like it? If that's all it takes to make his life a little bit better, then I'd let him do it every day if he wanted." He stopped to take a breath. "All he wants is a few minutes with you." I stared at him, gob smacked. He was so angry and frustrated he was on the verge of tears and I felt awful for not understanding, or even trying to understand his or Steve's feelings. "Please?" Brian said, "Please? For me?" "OK," I sighed. He cheered up instantly, wiped his face and smiled at me. "Thanks," he said. "But you ain't got to enjoy though. At least not too much!" I managed to raise a smile and we continued our drive home in silence. Bedtimes are always the best times to sort out the days problems, and later that night Brian walked through from his room into mine. He'd started off in his own bed, our row from earlier in the day still hanging over us, but like me, he didn't like leaving things half done, especially domestic arguments. "Can I get in with you?" he asked, "I can't sleep." He climbed in beside me and cuddled up. "Sorry about today," he said. "I didn't mean to get mad with you." I was pleased he'd got over our row, and even more pleased he'd had the courage to apologise although we both knew it was my fault. "That's alright. I was my fault anyway. I didn't think." We kissed each other and got closer. "Do you think it would help?" I asked. "Dunno, I think it might. Wouldn't do any harm, would it?" Leaving aside the risk of our relationship being exposed to the world, I had to agree with him. And, I reasoned, all Steve had to go on really was circumstantial evidence. I was happier with that now than I was when I first heard it. Oddly enough it'd also brought Brian and me closer together somehow. I reached out and rested my hand in his groin, only to find out he was already hard. "Who you thinking about? Steve?" I joked. "Yeah. Like you." he laughed as he squeezed my hard-on. We were back to normal, thank God. Chapter Seven. "Steve's coming round Tuesday night," Brian said to me. "Pardon?" I asked, my mind concentrating on some marking I was catching up with. "I said Steve's coming round Tuesday night. Just got a text message." "He always does. It's swimming night." "No. He's not going swimming, he's coming to see you." We looked at each other, Brian giving me one of his infuriating half-smiles, which said firmly that the ball was in my court. I tried one last desperate time to extricate myself from the situation. "Why?" I asked. All that got me was another `you're not that stupid' look from Brian and the same evil leer. I stuck my tongue out at him, returned the grin and went back to my marking. Tuesday evening. Brian had left to go to his club leaving me alone in the house awaiting my visitor, hoping against hope that he'd changed his mind and wasn't going to turn up. Nevertheless I found myself checking that I was presentable, the house was tidy and there was some Coke in the fridge. Putting it down to nerves, I made myself sit down and try to relax by watching the tv. After fifteen minutes I wasn't aware of anything I'd seen and was startled by the front door bell. Steve was dressed in T-shirt and shorts and carrying his swimming things under his arm which I assumed he'd brought with him so as not to create any questions at home. "Come in," I said. "Everything OK?" "Yeah, fine," he said and waved his things at me. "Sorry about this, but if I don't go swimming, I can't get out at all." He'd just reminded me of something Brian had said to me about being in care and the control they had over you. I felt sorry for him, having to lie just to get out of the house. As we sat down on the sofa, I looked at him properly for the first time ever, not as a pupil, not as a friend of Brian's; but as a person, an individual. He was about five foot eight or nine I guessed, an inch or two taller than Brian. He was thin for his height, but not skinny. His arms and legs were covered in fine downy hair, the same mousy-brown as his head. I realised that he wasn't in fact bad looking. Involuntarily I glanced down at his groin, his shorts hiding very little now he was sat down. He seemed to be reasonably well built down there too. I was broken out of my reverie by a cough. "Oh, sorry," I mumbled. "I was miles away" I felt myself colour up and to cover my confusion, asked him if he wanted a Coke. "Yes, please. I'll get it if you like." I nodded, conscious that I was beginning to get hard already, the sight of him and the reason for his presence doing their work. I wondered if Brian had said anything to him about tonight, or was he leaving it entirely to us. Knowing Brian, I would guess if he'd said anything, it would only be a subtle hint and not an outright `it's there if you want it' sort of thing. When Steve returned, things had developed in his groin too, and carrying two tines of Coke, he had little chance of hiding it, especially in his shorts. As he sat down, he adjusted his dick, making sure I saw him do it. "Sorry about this," he said without any trace of embarrassment, "It's always happening." I took a sip of my Coke as he looked me over, almost certainly eyeing my own semi-erection in the process. Taking a sip from the tin, he glanced at me again and said, "Nice!" he waved the tin at me, but he wasn't thinking about the Coke. There was that look again. "Yeah, isn't it." I said, leaving him to work out what I meant. "So. How's things?" "Oh, OK I guess. Not much happening these days. I can't get out all that much and there's not a lot to do at the house." He adjusted his dick again, folding the material of his shorts round his now solid boner. In desperation to push the conversation along, I asked if he wanted to watch a video for a while. "Yeah, that's a good idea. What you got?" I pointed the shelves out to him and invited him to choose whichever one he wanted. After a few minutes he picked out a horror movie with an 18 certificate. "Can I watch this?" I nodded and watched as he put it in the video and turned it on. Without asking, he went across and turned the main lights out, leaving the room lit only by the glow from the tv. I said nothing, and still said nothing when he sat close to me on the sofa. Whatever questions I had about how to get things going with him were dispelled: it appears that he was seducing me as much as me him. I smiled inwardly and lay back to watch the film. "I like watching them in the dark, it make them better," he said as he moved a bit closer. "Don't mind, do you?" "No, not at all. I think you're right," I answered, laying my arm along the back of the sofa, almost resting on his shoulders. He reached up, pulled my arm down and held onto my hand. When he glanced at me, I smiled back and gave him a gentle squeeze to let him know it was OK. He smiled back at me, now completely at ease. I didn't object either when his other hand rested on my thigh, his fingers pressing gently inside it. Sliding down the seat a little, I opened my legs wider, allowing his easier access. This wasn't the first time he'd done this, I thought. I stroked his chest and arm as we played our game. I was beginning to enjoy myself. His fingers were creeping closer and closer to my crotch, each time they moved up, I squeezed him a little more. Only once did he look at me during our game and I smiled back at him. We both knew the score. "It's hot in here. Can I take my T-shirt off?" he asked. "Yeah, of course if you want. Here, let me help." He leaned forwards as between us we pulled his shirt up over his head to reveal a hairless but surprisingly muscular chest with golden brown nipples. "That's better," he sighed. He put his hand back in my groin, this time with his fingers pressing against my dick. I fingered his nipples, which within seconds became solidly erect and warm to the touch. He sighed softly and took a firmer grip of my dick, rubbing it up and down just a few fractions of an inch, and with one finger tracing over my cockhead. Taking his hand away for a second, he dropped it onto my navel and worked his fingers under the waistband of my trousers. Even when I breathed in, there wasn't enough room to get his hand down all the way, his fingers just getting as far as my pubic hair. "Wanna take `em off?" he whispered. I nodded and unfastened my belt and slid the zip down. As I stood up to take them off, he slid his own shorts down and stepped out of them. He was now naked in front of me, his dick standing out horizontally in front of him. It was slightly thinner than Brian's, but a lot longer, almost seven inches I judged, and he had a lot more hair that Brian - but then he was almost a year older. He was also circumcised, unlike Brian. I stared at it, watching as it throbbed slightly in time with his heart. Glancing up at his face as I moved my hand towards him, he was smiling down at me, enjoying showing himself off. I pulled him back down to the sofa and stretched my legs out straight. Wrapping his hand round my cock he gazed at it as he slowly started to masturbate me. I returned the favour, moaning as I felt every little fibre of its throbbing heat. It was good. More than good, it was fabulous. "Let's get on the floor," he whispered to me. Without letting go of each other, we slid down onto the carpet and lay alongside each other, staring at out hands as they did their work. Steve was certainly good at this, his experiences, good or bad, had made him an expert. Not only was he exciting me more than I thought he could, he was obviously enjoying my attentions in a big way. He was moaning and sighing as he wanked me off, spending as much time playing with my balls as with my cock. Once in a while he would leave off masturbating me and run his hands over my chest, around my waist and as far round my back as he could. He began to kiss my nipples and chest, licking his way down to my groin. At one point he leaned up as if he was going to try and kiss me, but I gently pushed his head down and without complaint continued his downward trail. Two or three times I was within an ace of cumming, but each time he paused, licked me a few times and started again once I'd calmed down a bit. There was no way could I match him for technique, he was far more experienced than me for one thing and for another, he was getting as much pleasure out of fondling me as I was. He didn't even seem to notice when I stopped wanking him for a few moments as I backed off from another climax. There was no wonder Brian didn't mind `messing about' with him once in a while - he was an expert! After the third time he stopped me from cumming, I heard myself plead with him to finish the job - I just couldn't take any more of it. He leered at me, grinning broadly and stuck his mouth over my aching dick and with a combination of delightfully erotic fingering and unbelievable sucking, I shot my load straight into his waiting mouth. Eagerly he swallowed every last drop, and just as he did, he shot his own load high in the air. It wasn't my doing in the slightest, all I was doing was holding it as I climaxed - he came without any effort on my part at all! "Jesus!" I cried out as he rose to his knees. "That was awesome! How'd you ever learn how to do that?" Another stupid question. "Experience!" he grinned. "Did you like it?" "Yeah, Jesus, did I!" I said, still breathless. He leaned over to kiss me, but once more I turned away. This time he got the message and satisfied himself with kissing both my nipples instead. We lay there for a few more minutes caressing each other, him toying with my flaccid dick, me fondling his still hard boner. I was about to suggest that we stopped to get ourselves cleaned up when he gasped out, "No, don't stop, keep going, I'm nearly there!" I picked up speed again and after a few strokes watched as once again he spasmed out six or seven enormous globs of cum, this time ending up on my shirt and his chest. This time, even he was satiated and he fell back on the carpet, breathing deeply, his cock now softly laying against his empty balls. "Christ!" he whispered. "It's not often I can do that." I grinned back at him, ruffled his hair and stood up to retrieve my clothes. After five minutes cleaning up, we sat down on the sofa, smiling at each other. "Air freshener!" he suddenly said, still grinning. "We'd better do something before they get back." This, more than anything else finally convinced me that what we'd just done was for our own pleasure and Steve's need, not part of any plot or something. I grinned happily at him and gave the room a good spray. Half an hour later the gang arrived. By now Steve and I were sat in different chairs, properly dressed and watching tv. I looked at Brian as he came through the door. One sniff of the atmosphere told him all he needed to know. He stuck the tip of his tongue out, gave me an enormous wink and sat on the floor cross-legged grinning stupidly. After they'd all gone, Brian went upstairs and got himself ready for bed. He came back into the living room wearing his rarely-worn pyjamas and carrying a couple of drinks for us. He sat himself down on my knee and hugged me. Big as he was, he wasn't above wanting a bit of TLC once in a while and he liked nothing better than to sit on my lap having a cuddle. "So, he grinned, "How'd it go?" "Our secret," I said. "I don't tell anyone about you, so I'm not telling you about Steve." "Aww, come on. Please?" He stuck his tongue in my ear and began to tickle. He knew this drove me wild and I gave in instantly. I gave him a quick resume of what'd happened, including the fact that he'd seduced me before I even had a chance to do anything. Brian thought this hilarious and through the giggle said, "Gives an amazing BJ doesn't he." I laughed and said, "Yes. Incredible. You could learn a thing or two from him." Brian wasn't fazed at all, he instantly replied, "I'm trying. I'm trying!" "Honestly though," he went on, "Did it go alright?" "Yes," I said somewhat more seriously. "No problems. He'll probably tell you all about it himself sometime." "Great. Gonna do it again?" "Crikey Brian! How the hell am I supposed to answer that? I don't know. Perhaps Steve won't want to. Perhaps I don't want to." Then I added significantly, "Perhaps you don't want me to." "I've been thinking about that. I don't mind, honestly. It's not like he's going to split us up, or do anything like that is it? Like you said, it's only a bit of fun." "Yes, but I'm not very happy with anyone coming between us," I said. "Especially like this. Steven might want more than I'm prepared to give and then what do we do? We'd be back to square one, or worse." Brian squirmed a bit in my lap, worked his hands under my shirt and held me round the waist. "No, he won't," he said. "He's not like that, he's too selfish. Did he try and kiss you tonight?" I nodded. "And what did you do?" "Stopped him." "And then?" "He stopped trying and carried on what he was doing." "Exactly. He tried to kiss me as well and I wouldn't let him. And he tried to stick his finger up me, but I told him `no' and he stopped. All he wants is a bit of attention, and this is the only way he knows how to get it." This was remarkable insight from one so young I thought, but I suppose Brian empathised with Steve better than me and I accepted his logic. "Remember when we first got together," Brian said quietly. "Who started it?" Try as I might, I couldn't remember exactly how it happened, it just sort of did, one thing leading to another. I shook my head. "No," I mused. "That's what I'm trying to say. We liked each other first and things just happened from there. I don't think the sex is why we get on together is it? We love each other and look after each other and like being together. That's why you fostered me and adopted me, isn't it? Not because we screw each other once in a while is it?" he giggled. I smiled at him, thinking of what he was saying. He'd given our relationship a lot of thought, and come up with answers that hadn't entered my mind in quite those terms although I knew what he was saying was right. "That's where Steve is different. The sex comes first, not the person. If he can get what he wants from you, or me, or anyone else, that's all that matters. Did he cum without you doing very much? Cum when you did?" "Yes, he did. How did you know?" "He always does. He gets off just by jerking somebody off, and when he's cum, he stops and doesn't want to know anymore." The last bit wasn't quite true, but he was near enough to be right. "Anyway, forget Steve," Brian grinned. "I've had enough of him for one day, let's change the subject." He leaned up and kissed me tenderly. "That's better, he said. "I've missed you." I pulled him closer to me and kissed him back. "Do you love me?" he asked, dropping his head onto my shoulder. "Of course," I replied. "No, tell me." "I love you," I said, stroking his cheek. "How much?" "Lots." "No. How much? Five inches?" he said, looking down at his boner sticking up through the flies of his pyjamas. He giggled, took one hand and waved his dick at me. "No. More than that," I said, "Lots more." "How much more? Tell me?" he responded, and slid off my lap, took his pyjamas off and stood, legs apart and arms outstretched in front of me. I almost came on the spot. His beauty was beyond belief. My mouth went dry, my throat choked up and I felt tears running down my cheeks. I shook my head, all power of speech lost - I couldn't move a muscle. "Get undressed for me?" he whispered. "Please?" I looked round the room, suddenly acutely aware that we were still in the living room. "Here?" I managed to croak out. "Yeah," he giggled. "It'll be fun." There was nothing I would deny him just at that moment, nothing in the world. I did as I was told. We stood at arms length, holding hands and staring at each other. Time stood still as we exchanged our deep love through our eyes, tears slowly running down both our cheeks now. Suddenly we found ourselves embracing, hugging and squeezing as hard as we could. Not kissing, but holding each other and swaying as we clung desperately to one another. "I hurt inside, all over," he said between sobs. "Hold me. Hold me tight." I hugged him as hard as I could, so hard he could hardly breathe. "You won't ever leave me, will you?" he stammered out, "Promise you won't." "Of course I won't. Promise." I somehow managed to say between my tears. We gradually pulled ourselves together and eased the now painful hold we had on each other. "Take me to bed," he whispered, "I want to be with you tonight." Together we climbed the stairs, arms round each other's waists, Brian still clinging to me tightly. Once in bed, he wrapped himself around me and lay his head on my chest. "Why didn't we meet years ago?" he said quietly, "I'd've been able to love you longer." "Doesn't matter," I said. "We're together now, and will be for ever, no matter what." "Promise?" "Promise." Chapter Eight. Brian was subdued all the following day, not showing an interest in anything at all. In class he would have earned a telling off from me because of his attitude, but I didn't have the heart. Something was bugging him and I hadn't a clue what the hell it was. He should have gone to his photographic club that evening, but as he showed no signs of getting ready, I assumed, rightly, that he wasn't going to go. At about nine o'clock, I couldn't stand it any more. Pulling him onto my lap, I held him as I asked what was wrong. "Nothing. Everything. Oh, I don't fucking know!" he burst out. "I just feel awful." "What? How?" I said, "What is it? What's happened?" He sniffed and took hold of my hand. "It was while we were talking about Steve last night and I said something about how you and me look after each other and like being together and stuff. I was thinking about it afterwards and I suddenly thought what would happen if we ever couldn't be together and it scared me. Scared the shit out of me and I panicked. I just couldn't help it." Tears began to drip slowly from his eyes. "I'm 14 years old. I shouldn't feel like this. Other boys don't. I'm frightened." "Don't be," I said after a moments thought. "A lots happened to you over the past few months, a lot more than most people know. It's only natural that you should get scared once in a while. I'd be scared shitless too, believe me. You've done amazingly well to cope with it all, better than I thought you ever would. What's happened is that Stephen has reminded you of what could have happened to you, and quite rightly, it's upset you. But remember, Stephen isn't as bright as you and doesn't think like you do. He can't see beyond today and that's all he cares about. You're my son now, and like it or not, we've got to face things together, good or bad, for ever and ever." I had a sudden flash of inspiration, something I'd learned years ago but never thought I'd use. "What sort of music drives you nuts?" I said. He looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. "Go on. What sort?" "Posh music. Classical stuff." "Right. If ever you get scared again, or frightened, just say `violin' to me and I'll know straightaway. It's like a secret code and only you and me will know what it means. And if I get scared, I'll say `guitar' to you `cause I can't stand pop music!" That raised a smile of understanding. "And if I say `guitar' or you say `violin', then it'll mean we're extra happy as well!" he giggled. "Hold on, let's not make it too complicated. You happy with `violin' and `guitar'?" He nodded, grinning at me. "Better," he said. "Thanks." "Good." A few minutes later he told me he was going upstairs to have a bath. "Want me to wash your hair for you?" I asked. He stuck his tongue out at me and said, "No chance. You only want to do it so's you can stare at my body!" I swatted him on the backside as he passed me, but nevertheless I got a shout ten minutes later to say he was ready to have his hair washed. After I'd bathed myself and got into bed with Brian, we were both reading and caressing each other idly when Brian turned over and switched his bedside light off. As he curled up and settled down for the night, he kissed me on the cheek and whispered, "Guitar" in my ear. I kissed him goodnight and whispered "Violin" back at him. In some ways the events of the past 24 hours changed things between Brian and I. Over the next weeks we became much closer if that were possible and he also gained a lot in self-confidence, becoming more out-going. He even tried sleeping in his own bed more often, especially during the week when we were both at school. More often than not though I would wake up to find him sleeping alongside me, a gentle smile on his face. The real change came early one Sunday morning a couple of weeks later after we'd made love. We were laid back, nestled against each other, thinking about nothing in particular when Brian said, out of the blue, "I've decided. I'm gay." I thought at first he was making some sort of joke, especially remembering what we'd just been doing and I was about to laugh with him, but one look at him told me that I was mistaken. "Oh yeah?" I said seriously. "What makes you think that?" It was his turn to smile broadly as he looked up at me. "No. It's not what we've just done. It's more than that. I just don't feel the same way when I'm with the girls, not even Karen!" he giggled. "The only time I get really hard is when I think of you, or other boys sometimes. And I can't imagine enjoying it anywhere near as much with any girl as I do with you. In any case, I somehow feel different when I'm with other boys, more comfortable sort of." "Violins?" I questioned. "No, not really. Just that now I've made my mind up I'm not going to bother worrying about me and girls anymore, or what people think of me, I feel good. It's a bit scary though." "Yeah. Tell me about it," I said with feeling. "How old were you when you made your mind up?" he asked. I thought for a moment before saying, "It was a bit different for me, I lived with my mother and father for one thing. I used to knock about with girls and so on when I was your age and I never gave it much thought except that, like you, they never seemed to do much for me, not as much as the boys did anyway! I was about eighteen when I made my mind up I suppose." "Mmmm." he said. "Doesn't it worry you?" "It used to, especially being a teacher, I had to be very careful what I said and did around school and it scared me sometimes, just like it does you. But then I decided that it wasn't worth worrying about. People would think what they wanted anyway, and I couldn't change the way they think. I had a few problems when I was younger, but only from idiots I didn't like anyway." "No one said anything about you and me at school, you know, in that way?" Brian said. "No. They've no reason to. In any case, it's not the sort of thing they would talk about. Anyone said anything to you?" "Once or twice they've sort of hinted at stuff, but I've told `em to fuck off," he grinned. "See?" I said, "It works. Let `em think what they want, just as long as it isn't worrying you." "Naah. Not any more. I don't care." "Good!" I said. "Now, before you go and make breakfast, give me a kiss." "Piss off! Kiss, yes. Breakfast, no. It's your turn." The End