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Anthony Alboran's story – Crisp Buddies.
Written by John Teller.
Part eleven.
Saturday January 15th 2011. Ashton's sixteenth birthday... the day when, legally, in the UK he became eligible to have sex with anyone over the age of fifteen, including an old bloke of twenty-seven.
We were in bed at my place; he had set the alarm for one minute past midnight, and for the previous forty eight hours he had kept his pants on... almost a record for him. We lay side by side, holding hands and giggling. I pretended to try and get hold of his dick. He glared at me, and said, "Pedo! Leave me alone! They should lock you up and throw away the key!" Then we giggled some more. But all good things come to those who wait, and when the alarm went off, I was all over him like a rash, and he couldn't stop laughing. Neither could I, especially when he reached down his side of the bed and brought out a multi-pack of Walkers Cheese and Onion crisps. So I played a joke on him by kicking him out of bed, told him I preferred crisps to him, and sat up munching three packs before I'd let him anywhere near me. Every time he tried to get back in bed, I put my foot up his arse and sent him flying. He was laughing so much that he was in tears. I eventually did let him back in bed, but only after he went to his knees on the floor beside the bed, put his hands together as if he was praying, and pleaded with me to suck him off. So I did, and when I'd finished and swallowed what he dished up, when he pulled his dick out, it was covered in crisp bits, and he called me a "bastard!"
(By now, readers, you know the sort of things me and Ashton got up to, so you'll have to use your imagination about the sexual side of what happened after he'd made me clean my teeth - he said I couldn't rim him unless I did, just in case the crisp bits in my mouth gave him crisp rash up his arse - but I can tell you that there wasn't a single thing we didn't do that we normally did, and we even tried a few things we'd never tried, but at two o'clock in the morning we were both knackered. So I'll tell you about what came afterwards.)
Afterwards. I'd filled the bath with hot water and added loads of bubble-bath. In fact, when we were in it and because Ashton was a lot smaller than me, the bubbles were so high that they were at his mouth height as he lay back into me, and he had to keep blowing them away as they rose up his chin. It didn't help that every now and again I would scoop up a large handful and plaster them on his face. But what was really beautiful was the number of times he turned his bubble-plastered face up to me and demanded a bubbly birthday-kiss. Yes, it was really beautiful, and apart from the bubbles and us being naked, it was much like our times at Lover's Rock.
"What now?" asked Ashton after we'd soaked a while.
I kissed his wet hair, and asked, "What do you mean?"
He turned his head up, and smiled at me. "Do you still want me now I'm a man?"
I kissed his full, sexy lips. "I'm not sure. I loved that boy who I first saw. I'll never forget the first time I saw him."
"Was he as nice as me?"
"He was different."
"In what way?"
"He made me nervous."
Ashton chuckled. "Why did he make you nervous?"
"Not sure really. He was very beautiful, but he was out of my reach. I thought he was at the very least a year younger than he was, and that made him sort of out of bounds. That's why I was nervous. I didn't dare approach him just in case he thought I was a pervert trying to get in his pants."
"But you were!"
I chuckled. "I know I was, but I couldn't let him know that, could I?"
"Why not?"
"I was frightened of scaring him away."
"What would you have done if he'd ignored you?"
"Sulked, and then got on with life. What would you have done if I'd ignored you?"
Ashton was silent for a while, and then, typical Ashton, he changed the subject. "I want to go and see my dad."
To say that I was shocked was an understatement! Come to think about it, I was probably more appalled than shocked, but all I could say was, "Why?"
He turned his head up and stared into my eyes for ages, and then he smiled. "I love you so much. I need closure on my dad. I want us to build a life together, but I need to clear everything from the past before we do. That's if you want me?"
I fondled his small shoulders and then ran my fingers over his face. (I've told you before, readers, that he was a beautiful young man, and he really was. He was so handsome that even after six months together I still found it difficult to understand what a stunning boy like Ashton could see in me. I'm not ugly, but neither am I a Leonardo de Caprio.) I brushed his wet hair back from his forehead, stared into his eyes, and said, "Of course I want you, but are you sure you want me?"
He stroked my cheek with his wet fingers. "Absolutely positive. You're like my favourite man."
I lifted my eyebrows. "And who is your favourite man?"
He chuckled. "You are now, but before I met you, I loved Elton John."
My eyebrows were raised higher. "You actually love him?"
He gave out a deep giggle. "Not love him like I love you, but I love him as a person. He and David Furnish are my ideal couple. That's how I want us to be. Nobody ever goes around calling them names. They're accepted, and it's obvious that Elton and David are really in love. They don't talk about sex and stuff like that... they just get on with their lives and to hell with anybody who doesn't like gays. I know Elton is a multi-millionaire, but that doesn't change them. That's why they're my ideal couple, and that's how I want us to be."
(Did I have moist eyes? You can bet your arse I did, especially because the Ipad was on and I'd got Ladies in Lavender playing on repeat in the background because, "I'm feeling sentimental!")
"But what's Elton and David got to do with seeing your dad?"
"I don't want to hate him anymore. Sometimes he gets in the way of me loving you. In my mind, that is. You know what we've just done... before we had a bath? You know... when I was being a bit naughty and biting you and stuff like that... I was thinking I was like my dad. I like biting you."
I stroked his hair again. "I bite you. Sometimes I've left scratches down your back when I've been really lost in what we're doing. And when I'm sucking you off, there's nothing I'd like to do more than bite your dick off. Sometimes I want to eat you. So what's the difference? You're nothing like your dad. You're more like me than him, especially when you've got your talons in me! You're just a horny little sod."
Ashton giggled. "You don't think it's the same then?"
"No... it's not the same. But I understand why you would think it is. After what you went through, you'd be abnormal if you didn't associate sex and pain with what happened. So, why do you think going to see your dad now will make things better for you? Or us?"
"I want you to come with me."
"Why?"
"I want to show him that I'm normal."
"But you're not normal. You're gay."
"Elton and David are normal. You and me are normal. I'm not doing it for my dad... I want to do it for me. For us. I want to look him right in the eyes and tell him that what he did hasn't affected me. It might make him feel better too."
I was puzzled, and it must have shown in my face when I asked Ashton, "You actually care that he doesn't feel bad about what he's done?"
Ashton's face became serious, and there was a glare in his eyes when he stared into mine. "He's crazy. He can't help being crazy, no more than you and me can help being gay. Do you think he chose to be born a sadist?" Then tears began to roll from Ashton's eyes. "He wasn't always being sadistic to me. Sometimes he would hold me in his arms and love me properly. He once told me that he was sorry and that he hated what he did to me. He's not all bad. That's why I hate it when Olga keeps going on about him. I wish she'd just shut her gob and let it go. That's what I want you to do. It's really important to me. What's done is done, and we can't undo it. You cry sometimes when you're thinking about it, don't you?"
Ashton was right. Sometimes, when I was holding him and loving him without any sex stuff going on, if ever any thoughts came into my mind about what he'd been through, I just couldn't stop myself from shedding tears. As a matter of fact (because the sentimental music was playing), I was not far off shedding tears when we were talking about it, but I managed a half-grin when I nodded. "Yes. I love you so much that it hurts to think that you've been hurt like that. I can't help it. I'm sorry."
Ashton snuggled into me. "I know. But we don't need it, do we? I mean, just think how much better it will be if all we think about is us without that. Just you and me loving each other and going out in Crispy to have fun. Then, when I go into the navy, you'll always be waiting for me when I get home, just like David Furnish waits for Elton while he's off singing all over the place."
I glared at him. "The navy! Since when have you decided to join the bloody navy?!"
Ashton giggled. "I've decided what I want to be. I'm going to be a naval engineer."
"Since when?"
He lifted his head up, and smiled at me. "Since I had a talk with Mr Wainwright. My teacher. He says my grades in maths and science are good enough to do it, and I'm top of the class in design and technology." Ashton giggled. "I'll design tools, and you can make them for me. We can build ships together." He chuckled. "When I come home on leave, we can use our own tools."
Although I was feeling sick in this change of events I thought might happen to me and Ashton, I actually got what he was saying. For our first six months, all we'd been doing was living in our own dreamland, but if me and Ashton were to really make a life together, then at some point we would have to face the reality of life. And by what Ashton had told me, he was way ahead of me in the thinking stakes. "But why do you need to join the navy? You can be an engineer without doing that."
Ashton leaned back into me, clasped my arm to his chest, and relaxed. "I've always loved the sea. I've kept scrap books about the navy since I was little. They're in my top box in my wardrobe at home. I'll show them to you tomorrow. I'd like to serve on an aircraft carrier."
"We haven't got any. Not with aircraft. The new ones won't be ready for another seven years... if that."
He chuckled. "You know your stuff. I'll be twenty three, but she'll begin trials before then. I want to be part of her."
I giggled. "She? You like the girls now, do you? This music was made for you: Lady in lavender."
He chuckled like mad for a bit, and then he said, "Won't you be proud of me? Your Lady in lavender will be serving on HMS Queen Elizabeth, the greatest aircraft carrier in the world."
Then I had a vision. HMS Queen Elizabeth leaving Portsmouth dockyard; sailors lined on the sides as she slipped from her moorings, and amongst them would be the most beautiful young man in the world... my Ashton Johnson. So I hugged my Crisp Buddy and kissed his hair, and whispered, "Yes, I'll be very proud of you. Now we'd better get some sleep if we don't want to be knackered when we go paintballing."
****************************
It was the first time I'd ever met any of Ashton's peers. I knew a few of them by name when he'd referred to them, but it was only when we were at the Wild Park Derbyshire paintballing and quad biking experience that I actually got to meet them. That was Ashton's 16th birthday present, and he invited six of his school pals to join him. There were four lads and two girls. And guess what? He insisted I make up the eighth member of the group who would be taking part.
We'd driven up to Brailsford in two cars: Olga's and Crispy, and we arrived at eleven o'clock in the morning. It had been a bumpy ride in Crispy, and that was because the three pals he had sitting in the back seat were proper sixteen year old lads: sort of spotty faced, and to my mind, half again as big as Ashton. Because of the comment he'd made a while back about his mates burning down bushes, I expected a group of kids like out of The Inbetweeners, but they were anything but that. Maybe it was because I was an old man and Ashton was also with his mum and her friend that they behaved respectfully, but they were no trouble. They were boisterous and noisy and naughty at times, especially when it came to sexual innuendo (of which there was plenty in Crispy while we were travelling), but they were what I would call normal kids. And who was I? This is my mate Tony. I wanted to add, Who was shagging you until two this morning, but I didn't. And give Ashton his due... he didn't get his dick out once on the journey. Maybe he was shy? LOL.
While Wendy and Olga sat in the reception area, we youngsters had a fantastic time. We paintballed until lunch; had fun during it, and then did the quad-biking afterwards. Tony Alboran had become an accepted member of the gang, and the kids enjoyed my company. Was that because they knew me and Ashton were an item? I think it was. Some things you just can't hide, especially from teenagers on the cusp of adulthood.
There was a certain je ne sais quoi with me and Ashton that could not be interpreted any other way than we were very familiar. But nobody actually came out with anything that could have been termed accusing. Accepting? Yes. But accusing? No. But when Ashton always insisted he was with me when we were paintballing, and insisted he sat with me during lunch, and after we'd showered and were all sitting round a large table discussing everything that had gone on and he was so happy in my company, if his peers didn't work out that we were an item then they would have had to have been a bit on the thick side. And when we all went back to Fidler's Elbow, I was as happy as anybody could ever be. For six months I'd worried about how Ashton didn't show any attachment to his peers, but having spent a day with him in the company of them, it became obvious that when he was away from me and at school, he was no different than any other lad his age. I know it might sound strange, but I was much relieved by that, and the idea of going to see his father became less problematic to me. It became a case of a normal, intelligent young man, having considered all things, deciding for himself that he had something to do before he could move on. (It didn't go down well with Wendy and Olga, but I'll tell you about that later.)
Wendy and Olga had prepared a buffet birthday tea. The place was packed, but kids being kids, they all found a place somewhere to park their arses while they downed their illicit alcoholic drinks and ate their savoury rolls. (Not too much alcohol. Wendy and Olga didn't want angry parents banging on their door complaining that they'd led their children astray.) But they drank enough beers and whatever to lose their inhibitions. And it's a good job they did, because what happened next had me shrinking into myself whilst being so proud of my boy that I had misty eyes. It was when he was cutting the birthday cake.
Lights out; Wendy carried in the beautiful cake covered by sixteen lighted candles, and placed it on the table. We all sang Happy Birthday to Ashton, and then Olga told him to make a wish while he was cutting it. I was trying to be inconspicuous, but Ashton looked at me, and asked, "Do you want to cut it with me Tony?"
I shook my head, and said, "No. You do it. With your mum. She's the really special one here today."
He stared right into my eyes. "If you're worried about this lot, I've already told them. They wouldn't have come if they had a problem with us, would you guys?"
They all chuckled. I had an embarrassed grin on my face, but I pointed a finger at Ashton, and said, "Your mum is still the most special person here today." I looked at Wendy. "Cut it with him Wendy. I want a photograph of you two for posterity."
Lots of photographs later; a few more beers later, and the party got into full swing.
(Did I tell you I could sing? Maybe I forgot. I have a good voice and I love singing. I sing at work and all the guys enjoy it when I really let rip. When I was a really young man (you know, when you're under twenty) I would be the one the lads shoved to the front to do the karaoke bit, and I reckon had I got more balls and hadn't chosen the anonymous life of being a toolmaker, I could have made a bob or two singing in the clubs, especially because I was great at impersonating various singers. And that night, because I hadn't spared the beers, my inhibitions were at their lowest ebb, which is why I really got into the swing of things.)
My Crisp buddy had prepared for the party. He'd done stuff with the music system so it was hooked up to a microphone, and he told me beforehand that I'd got to do karaoke stuff. The beers were settling in nicely, so I was in a couldn't give a damn mood when I picked up the microphone and blasted out whatever I knew while the kids bopped away, or whatever they call the daft dances they did. I'd bought a few CD's myself to the party, and one song in particular I knew I was going to sing: Chuck Berry's Sweet Little Sixteen. What fun it was when I put on the CD and selected the right track at the second attempt! The place was rockin', and even Wendy and Olga were dancing as everybody joined in and pointed fingers at my Crisp Buddy. When the song was over, everybody was laughing their heads off. But I wasn't finished. I hadn't intended to play it before the day began, but now I knew all those at the party knew me and Ashton were an item, I decided to be really naughty and play it. So I did, and the place was in uproar when I sang Chuck Berry's Little Queenie. At first, Ashton didn't know where to put his face as I pointed at him while I was joining in with Chuck, but then he stuck two fingers up at me and began to dance sexily in the middle of the room. I could hardly sing for laughing, and his pals were clapping their hands and urging him on. Tears of laughter were running from Olga's eyes, and Wendy was doing the same, but trying to hide her face. When it was over, Ashton came to me and hugged me, and I hugged him back. Then he whispered, "I'll get my own back on you, Shrek, when we go to bed!"
The party was over, and there was just me and Ashton and Wendy and Olga left. We sat in the lounge, talking and laughing about the day. It had been good, but I was worried that he'd come out to his school pals, and I brought the subject up. "How long have your pals known about us?"
Ashton, who was leaning back into me with his legs along the sofa, shrugged his shoulders. "I told my mate Connor about you when you pinched a crisp off me. The others have found out in various stages since."
"And?"
He looked up at me. "And what?"
"I'm twelve years older than you."
Ashton giggled. "Not now you're not. You're only eleven years older than me until May."
I looked at Wendy and Olga. They were both grinning. I shook my head. "You just don't care, do you?"
Ashton shook his head. "No. Why should I? Half the kids in the school are gay."
I snorted, "That's an exaggeration, and you know it! Anyway, those that are, aren't going out with somebody twelve years older than them."
"Eleven! Get it right! Mum says it's a good idea that I'm going in the navy."
I couldn't help but chuckle at his sudden change of the subject again. It was Ashton's way of telling me that there was nothing more to be said regarding what we were talking about. (Subject closed! Age difference... no problem. Deal with it Alboran!) I looked at Wendy and Olga. "We've got our own personal Popeye. We'll have to stock up with spinach."
Wendy giggled. "What do you think about his plans, Tony?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "It'll give me plenty of time for fishing. They're stocking up a new place over at Burton. It'll just about be ready by the time he buggers off. And I'll be able to save some money so we can get that place we want. I'm quite looking forward to it. What do you think?"
Ashton said nothing. He just shook with suppressed laughter as I held him in my arms.
************************
Wendy was crying, and Olga was furious.
It was the end of January that Ashton told them that he wanted to go and see his father. It lasted all Saturday afternoon, but Ashton wouldn't budge. I wished I was out of it, but my Crisp Buddy had insisted I be there for him. Only once was I asked my opinion. Olga stared at me, and asked, "What do you think about it Tony?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "He's made his mind up. I haven't been around long enough to know everything, so I've decided not to interfere."
I think I was wise that day, because it was a right royal bust up. Wendy cried mostly, but Ashton and Olga were going at it hammer and tongs. I remembered what he said the first time I visited them all at Fidler's Elbow and Ashton and Olga had enjoined in verbal jousting, `That's nothing. Sparks fly when we really get going.' And it all ended almost acrimoniously when Ashton pointed an angry finger at Olga, and said, "You either sort it for me... or I'll do it myself!"
That was the only time I ever saw Olga cry properly. Her shoulders slumped; she sat on the sofa; Wendy hugged her, and Olga burst into tears and allowed herself to be comforted by her lover. I was not left out. Ashton threw himself into my arms and bawled like a baby. To be honest, I was actually frightened. This was a major family bust-up, and there was nothing I could do about it. But love conquers all. It took a while. Maybe ten minutes of that awful distress, and then Olga looked at Ashton and held out a hand. He'd almost stopped crying, but when that hand came out, he left me and threw himself onto his knees in front of his mother and Olga, and when they dragged his head onto their laps and he clung to them both, they all cried together. I couldn't help it... I put my head in my hands, and wept too.
*************************
I had a day off work and Ashton had the day off school on Thursday 3rd March 2011.
Whitemoor Prison is just outside March in Cambridgeshire, and I was surprised by how modern it was when we finally arrived in Crispy for the afternoon, two o'clock appointment, and Ashton had sixty minutes to visit his father. Olga had arranged it all. Because Ashton was under eighteen, things were complicated and it had taken protracted multi-agency meetings before they decided he was fit to visit, and only then could he do it if his father decided he wanted to see Ashton. He decided he would do. (I was torn between hoping he wouldn't, and balancing Ashton's determination that he needed to do it so he could move on in life.)
Ashton had been quiet on the way down, and when we called at a Little Chef, I asked him if he wanted to continue. Those beautiful brown eyes I adored looked thoughtfully right into mine, and then he nodded. Even so, I knew he was scared. So was I. I was also under orders. Olga had spoken to me on the side and told me that if there was the slightest sign that Ashton couldn't handle the situation, I was to get him away from the place as quickly as possible and to ring her immediately. Why me and not her accompanying Ashton? There was bad blood between Ashton's father and Olga, and it was decided she would delegate the responsibility to me, quoting me as a long-standing family friend who had Ashton's best interests at heart. It helped that I'm quite a large person, too.
The Visitor Centre. We sat at a table in a spacious room, waiting for his father. (Close contact, one-on-one visiting had been deemed inappropriate, and we were to be supervised by prison wardens.) I glanced at Ashton. He was fiddling with his fingers, so I put my hand on his and squeezed it. He gave me a forced smile. God knows how Ashton was feeling, but his pale face told me that he shouldn't have been there really. However, this was his thing. He had never wavered from his determination to see his father, and I had never wavered from my determination to see him through it as best I could. But, like Olga, I was never happy about it, and even less so when he could only eat one piece of buttered toast at the Little Chef we'd called at. My boy ate like a pig, so that told me how he was feeling. Hopefully, when we were driving back, I was praying that he would eat two of the all-day breakfasts that he loved. But it would all depend on how the meeting with his father went.
Then his father came into the room accompanied by two prison officers, who, after his father had sat down opposite us, went to stand at the side of the room.
Like Ashton, his father was a small man. Looking at him, butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. But we knew better.
I was trying to watch both of them at the same time. They said nothing for a short while, both looking but not looking at each other if you know what I mean. Then his father gave Ashton a nod before saying, "Hello son. I'm sorry."
I saw Ashton's eyes darting all over the place, wanting to look at his father, but also not wanting to. He'd been my boy for nine months by then; I knew every nuance of his behaviour, and I knew he was feeling sick at heart. That was the critical moment, and I was half expecting him to either burst into tears or run from the room. But he did neither. His father couldn't see the white-knuckled, clenched fists under the table, but I could. Then I heard as well as saw Ashton take a deep breath, and he said, "I just wanted to let you know that what happened is all gone. I've got over it. I've decided to join the navy when I'm eighteen. I'm going to be a naval engineer. My life is fine now. I want you to get better. Promise me you'll try to do that. For me. It's not too late dad."
Ashton's father's face relaxed, and he tried to smile. "I will son. Thank you."
Ashton stood up, held out his hand; his father took it, and they held hands for a short moment. Ashton released his hold and took out the photograph of him and his mother cutting his sixteenth birthday cake, and gave it to his father. Then he said, "That was the day when I became a man. That man doesn't hate you." Then he looked at me. "Take me home Tony."
So we left the room, went out of the building, got into Crispy, and I drove away. But I didn't get far. As soon as I could find a lay-bye, I pulled over into it, applied the handbrake, and burst into tears. Ashton snuggled up to me and wrapped his arms around mine, and then he kissed my cheek. "Shhhh. It's over now. I love you, and we're going to be happy."
I turned to him and stroked his cheek. "Has anybody ever told you that you're the most beautiful person in the world?"
Ashton stroked my cheek with his fingers. Then he smiled, and said, "I don't care if nobody ever told me as long as you say it. You're the person who's important to me now. Thank you for today. I couldn't have done it without you. Now stop bloody crying and let's get something to bloody eat! I'm bloody starving!"
I chuckled through my tears. "You're always bloody hungry!"
Ashton giggled. "I know. That because I'm in love with a crisp thief. And when we get home, we're going straight to bed and I'm going to eat you, and I'm going to bite you all over. In fact, I'm going to be like my dad tonight... I'm going to give you so much stick that you'll think you've done twelve rounds with Mike Tyson, and then I'm going to fuck you!"
I laughed. "No chance! Nothing goes up my arse!"
Ashton waggled his sexy eyes. "I know that. I was teasing you. But I know something you've got that will fit nicely up mine."
I pushed him away. "You're sex mad you are! Let's go get something to eat."
**************************
That evening was one of the most beautiful we ever spent together. Because we were late getting back, and because our delay was made even longer because we spent an hour and a half in bed at my place before we went to Fidler's Elbow, Wendy and Olga had delayed having a meal until we arrived. I wasn't very hungry, but Ashton was, and so we ordered an Indian takeaway. So when it arrived, together we laid out the meal at the dining table, and sat down to eat it. During the meal the `girls' wanted to know what had gone on, and I left Ashton to tell them. He didn't tell them a lot, and I kept out of it and just kept downing the red wine. Why? It was a celebration meal, and I was in the mood to enjoy this new found freedom my boy had discovered. It was obvious even from what he told them that whatever had gone before was now all over and he was happy. They didn't push him for the fine details, but why should they? It was obvious to everybody that Ashton had partly laid his ghosts to rest that day. He was like a boy reborn, and after the meal, when we all retired to the lounge, he began to outline his plans for the future. His exuberance was infectious, and we even made plans on hard copy, even to the point that everybody's business was laid bare, including all the financial affairs that might affect our future. Then our boy really let loose. Ashton got up and put on a CD, he pointed at me, and said, "Come on Crisp Thief, let's sing and dance."
I shook my head and told him to bugger off, but when the `girls' started laughing and urged me on, and Ashton pulled my hand to try and get me up, I joined him. And what was I singing and dancing to - accompanied by Ashton in his very best uninhibited mood? The soundtrack to Reservoir Dogs no less... which was Ashton's favourite film.
So, dear readers, you will have to use your imagination to envisage the scene of me and Ashton singing and dancing and laughing, and drinking even more wine between songs, and the `girls'' in tears laughing at us. Fun! Have you ever had real fun? I mean... completely uninhibited fun when the shit of the past is buried and all you have is a wonderful future in front of you? In that room was a mother watching the son she loved with a passion being himself with the person he had fallen in love with, and she was with the partner she loved; Olga the Social Worker was watching the boy she loved and had nurtured from a small boy after he'd been brutally abused by his father, and she was with the partner she loved; I was with the most beautiful young man in the world who had stolen my heart completely and who had made me incredibly happy, and my Crisp Buddy was surrounded by three people who he loved and who adored him. That's why we had fun. Trust me, it doesn't get any better. *wink*
Well, it can get a bit better. The `fun' was over, and me and Ashton had gone to bed. No sex. The mad hour and a half frenzy when we got to my place had been enough to last us the night, so we just loved each other, talking in whispers about what had been and what was to come. Lots of kissing; lots of giggling; lots of telling each other how much we loved each other, and then we settled down to go to sleep, and when we did, it was a sleep filled with hope and love.
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And now, dear readers, this is where the story about me and my Crisp Buddy comes to an end. Why? Well, I just wanted to tell you how we met and how we got through the time when he was under-age. Once he'd reached sixteen, our association had become one between two males of legal age; therefore we were `normal' gay people. But I'm in no doubt you're wondering what became of us? I'll tell you.
Today is the April 27th 2014, and my nineteen year old young man is in the bedroom packing his gear to return to the Naval College at Dartmouth. He's been on leave during the Easter Holidays, and I'm taking him back in Crispy-Two. What's he like now? Well, apart from he's grown a few inches and is now only six inches shorter than me, he's still pretty much the same beautiful young man I met when I pinched a crisp off him. He's never lost that boyish exuberance he had when I first met him, but he has now grown in confidence, and he's studying to be the Naval Engineer he always wanted to be. But some things have changed.
We're a proper item now, and live together as partners. Where? Well, my bricks and mortar plans went down the Swanny for a while. Ash (that's what I call him now) decided two years ago that he wanted to live on a canal barge. That's right, you're not `hearing things'. A bloody canal narrow boat that's berthed at Shardlow so I can go to work in Crispy-Two. It's nice! Cheese and Onion is forty-two feet long with all mod cons, including central heating, a full kitchen and bathroom, and a double bed in the bedroom. We managed to get it dirt cheap in an auction, and it was paid for from money Olga got when her mother died. But I've not given up on my plans for `bricks and mortar'. We've saved hard so we can buy a canalside cottage (no little boxes for me) that we've both seen and agreed it's where we want to live. Because the housing market is flat at the moment up here, we're hoping the offer we've put in will be accepted. If we get it, that will be the next part of our life that began almost four years ago when I saw a scruffy little kid walking home and I got him to give me a crisp. We've come a long way since then, my Crisp Buddy and me. But one thing has not changed... the love we have for each other. In fact, if anything, it's become even stronger, and we've slotted together like two peas in a pod, which can only happen when two people love and care and respect each other as me and Ash do.
I love my boy for everything he is, and I'm immensely proud of him. He followed his career choice, and I have no doubt that one day he will serve on the aircraft carrier he loves. He's a junior officer now, and he has a tremendous future in front of him. Is it difficult us living apart for so long during the year? Not really. I have my fishing; he has his naval career, but the love we share binds us together no matter where we are. Besides, we do keep in contact. I've been made to enter the modern world of communications, and we're in touch many times each day. So, we're apart for much of the time, but we're together if you know what I mean. When he has leave and we're together, that's the icing on the cake; when the love we share becomes fulfilled... two people in love sharing a bed and a home together. He's still a sexy little sod, so need I say more? LOL.
We have an hour before we have to leave, so I'll wrap this tale up now and send it to my mate, John Teller, so he can edit and publish it. I'm not a very good writer, so I'll leave John to sort it out for you. He's had most of what I've written, and can't stop giggling. He loves my Ash. They get on like a house on fire. John says he's going to pinch Ash off me and give him a real treat... show him how a real man can please a boy. I've told him he's got no chance, but Ash teases me at times and says he really fancies John. He says John's got lovely blue twinkling eyes that make him hard every time John gives him that look. I'll have to watch that John... the bloody flirt! LOL.
Oh... BTW, something I almost forgot to tell you. My parents know about us. And my sisters do. In fact, it was my sister Beccy who found out. Somebody had told somebody who told somebody who told somebody, and that `somebody' then told Beccy. She told mum and dad, and to cut a long story short, when I was visiting mum and dad one day, mum said, "When are you going to bring Ashton to see us?"
You can imagine how I felt at being found out. Ashton was eighteen then... thank God! It's funny how you react in these situations, because all I could mumble was, "Sorry."
We were eating together, and mum gave me one of those mum-stares. You know the ones, those that tell you you've said the wrong thing? She glared at me, and said, "Sorry! Sorry! What is there to be sorry about?"
It was dad who saved the day. He grinned that daft grin of his, and then said, "Anthony, you're our son! We brought you up from a baby remember. We wouldn't be very good parents if we didn't understand the child we loved. We've known you were gay since you were a nipper. That's why I didn't want you to marry Her. I knew it would end in tears. Now listen to your mother and stop being a daft bugger."
Well, I did stop being `a daft bugger', and now they love Ashton. Well, how could they not do? I told you that he's one of those boys that you can't help but love. It was easy for him. I mean, if he could stand up to a man who had abused him so badly, then visiting mum and dad for the first time was a doddle to him. They took to him like a duck to water, and he and mum are best friends. In fact, between them (together with that damned Olga), they run my life for me. The only time I can get any respite is when I go fishing. LOL.
I gotta go now. Ash is standing in the doorway, grinning at me. I know that look. Do I need to draw you a picture? *wink*
Bye.
Tony.
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John Teller.
Can't stop laughing. Tony has emailed me the final two parts of his memoirs, so now I can really get to work editing and polishing it enough to warrant all the hours Tony has put in writing his story.
Ashton has gone back to Dartmouth, and he'll be away for a while. That's a shame. He's a gorgeous young man, and we have a special affinity with each other. I tease Tony to death about me and Ashton, and Ashton plays the game with me. But I've got no chance. I've met some wonderful gay couples in my time, but never have I seen two people who are so well-suited to each other. That's why I'm writing this story. We were all at the pub one evening, having dinner together, and I wanted to know the nuts and bolts about them. They know I'm a writer by trade, so Tony said he'd spend some time while Ashton was away to write down his memories, and I could edit and polish them so it made a good enough story for people to read. Ashton couldn't stop laughing when Tony said that, but he was all for it, especially when I said the only place I could tell all their naughty secrets was on Nifty Stories.
So here it is; Tony's story: Crisp Buddies. I hope you readers enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed editing and polishing it. It was bloody hard work at times, and I had to get back to Tony to get some things clearer, but despite his Derbyshire dialect and his easy-going way of talking, he's done a pretty good job... don't you think?
I know you'll be reading it while you're away, Ashton, so just remember that I fancy that lovely bottom of yours, and I won't say `no' if ever you decide you'd like me to kiss it rather than that big oaf you love. ROFL.
All my love from,
John.
Ps. I've chosen a song for you two. You really are two beautiful people, and I love you both dearly. You're both a pair of softies, and I know this song will make you cry, especially when you two Crisp Buddies are alone and listening to it while you're sitting under the stars by Lover's Rock in Portugal, but it will serve you back for the tears I've shed when I was reading Tony's narrative. So here... Your Song. Enjoy. Jx.
The end.
You can find my other stories on Nifty here. If you wish to let the Crisp Buddies know how much you've enjoyed their tale, then just drop me a line to JTST449@gmail.com and I'll pass on your messages. Genuine comments will be appreciated. All flames will be extinguished in the trash bin.
