Date: Mon, 12 Jan 2009 12:16:35 -0800 (PST)
From: John Venn <johnvenn1945@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: London Street Boy - Part 2 of 2

Disclaimer:

This story contains scenes of a sexual nature between two boys, and a man &
boy. If this is not to your taste, or is illegal where you live, or you
find it morally offensive, 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!

Comments are always welcome at johnvenn1945@yahoo.co.uk

**************************************************

Part 2

Life Goes On.

More and more I spent my days travelling on the buses and tubes to new
places, apart from anything else it killed time.  Without knowing it, I
became an expert on where the best cottages were within an hour of where I
lived!

I saw less and less of Spikey too.  He'd become friendly with a gang of
boys who I didn't like very much.  He started smoking and drinking a lot,
and using hash as well.  All the money he got he spent on shit.  The last
time I saw him he was stoned out of his mind trying to pick up a punter in
the local park. He didn't even recognise me.

It was in a park in Shoreditch that I had the most fun I'd had in ages,
apart from when I was with Jason. I'd actually gone into a bog for a crap
for once, and was sat down with my kecks round my ankles and reading some
of the dirty writing on the wall, with one hand stroking my dick when I
noticed an eye looking at me through one of the small holes in the wall
between the cubicles. I'd picked up men like this before and knew the
routine.  I leaned back and showed the hole my dick, giving him time to get
a good look.  When I looked back at the eye, instead of giving me a look at
his nads, it continued to stare at me. Giving him one more chance, I stood
up in front of him and played with my dick.

No reaction at all. In fact when I looked at the eye properly, to see what
his game was, I had the distinct impression that it wasn't a very old one.
Younger than me at any rate.

Digging in my back-pack I found a pen and ripping off a piece of toilet
paper, I wrote, "What do you want?" on it, rolled it up into a tube and
pushed it through the hole.

"Can I feel it?"  Came back the reply in a childish scrawl.

"How old are you/" I added and sent it back.

"I'm nine.  How old are you?"

I was knocked for six.  Amused as well.  I'd never had fun with anybody
that young; in fact at that age, as far as I was concerned, the only thing
my dick was for was for pissing through.

"Fourteen" I wrote.  "Wanna come in here?"

The bolt on his door banged back and I reached across from where I was sat
to unfasten mine.

There was a quick scamper of feet, the door was pressed back and a
fair-faced kid burst in, his face a broad grin.

"Thanks!" he said as he bolted the door again.

He wasn't all that good looking, a bit thin and pasty looking in fact, but
he wasn't ugly either.  His face was glowing red with excitement and a wide
toothy grin spreads across it.  Without a second's hesitation, he pushed
his pants and undies down to his knees and stood in front of me, proudly
displaying his goodies.

His two inch cock was hard and pointing straight at me, rising from a ball
sac which was still tight up in his crotch.

I felt them lightly, the smooth delicate, almost transparent skin sliding
under my fingers.  He giggled as I tickled him , obviously enjoying it.

Reaching down, he bent his fingers round my dick and held it lightly, not
moving.  Then he moved to my balls and felt them, moving the eggs from side
to side.  I let him play like this as I enjoyed myself with his miniature
set of nads.  From the way he was feeling me, it was obvious that he was
new to this.

"Done this before?" I whispered.

He nodded back furiously.  "Yeah Twice. With boys like you. Fun ain't it!"

He told me that he lived across the road and had watched people going in
and out of the bogs a lot.

Then one day he'd hidden in a cubicle and watched men and boys toss each
other off in the stalls through a hole in the door.

"I don't wanna do it with men though," he giggled. "I like boys better. Do
you?"

"Yes," I said. " 'Specially boys like you."

This got another laugh and a little excited dance on the floor.

"Ever do anything else?" I asked, knowing the answer.

He looked puzzled for a moment and said, "No.  What else can we do?"

"Stand still and don't move," I told him, putting my hands on his small
hips and staring at his lovely little cock.

Slowly I moved my head down and delicately licked up and down his shaft a
few times.

"Oh wow!" I heard him sigh.  "That's good. Feels awesome!"

"It gets better," I whispered.  "If you want."

"Oh yeah. Do it, do it."

I took his pulsating knob in my mouth and sucked gently, using my tongue at
the same time.

There were no sounds from him this time and I looked up. His eyes were
glazed, staring into space and his mouth wide open.

"Like it?" I giggled.

He nodded his head up and down.  "Do it some more," he begged.

This time I did it properly for him and had the pleasure of feeling his
body shiver with delight.  I knew he wasn't old enough to cum yet, but he
could probably orgasm, which he did for me after a few glorious minutes.

His orgasm was spectacular to say the least.  I felt his cock expand in my
mouth: he put his hands on my shoulders and face-fucked me like a jack
rabbit, his hips banging backwards and forwards with all the strength he
had.

Dramatically, he pulled out of my mouth and would have collapse if I hadn't
held on to him.  Whilst he was spaced out, I pulled his pants up and sat
him on the bowl.

"Like that?" I asked as I dressed myself.

"Fucking yeah!" he gasped.  "Out of this world.  What happened?"

"You orgasmed.  Feels great don't it?"

He nodded, still not quite himself.

"What's your name?" I asked, picking up my bag.

"Alan.  What's yours?"

"Randy," I told him as I let myself out. "See ya!"

As I walked away I grinned to myself.  He was probably the first boy ever
to learn about blowjobs before he could wank!

The National Gallery On the north side of Trafalgar Square is the National
Gallery which is like a museum but full of pictures.  I'd heard Jason
mention it once or twice and in the hope of seeing more paintings like the
ones he'd shown me, I went to explore.  So as not to stand out too much,
I'd changed into my 'Jason' clothes before going through the enormous
doors.

There were thousands and thousands of pictures I soon discovered and they
didn't seem to be in any particular order.  Pictures of battles were mixed
up with ones of flowers, pictures of ugly old men with posh ladies.  I
didn't see any nude pictures though hardly anywhere.  The few I saw were of
fat women laying down, smiling at you but with their hands over their fanny
so you couldn't see anything anyway.  There were lots of guards and
attendants around, but I could hardly go up and ask them could I?  Instead
I wandered around aimlessly hoping I'd find them by accident. By the time I
got to the top floor I hadn't seen any, so I sat on a bench in the middle
of the floor and looked at a big picture of a battle with hundreds of men
holding spears and swords and things. I was staring at the faces of the
dying men, wondering what it was like to die when two boys passed between
me and the picture.

They must've been from a school party as they were in blue uniform blazers
and white shirts, and looked to be about 13 years old.

You can always tell when boys are up to something and these two definitely
were.  Keeping out of sight I followed them; there was no need to hide from
them though as they were so busy giggling and punching each other playfully
that they would never have seen me.

Not totally unexpectedly they dived into the toilets at the end of the
room.  Giving them a minute to sort themselves out, I went through the same
door, closing it quietly behind me.

The piss holes were empty.  The sit-down doors were all open, except one.
As quiet as a mouse I crept into the one next door and turned the knob to
lock it.  Sitting down, I closed my eyes and listened intently.

"Come on Pat, hurry up, we haven't got long."

The voice was posh and well-spoken. Some swishy private school I guessed.

"OK, OK, keep your hair on. Ready?"

There was no reply except for a muted 'Ouch!'  Very carefully I poked my
head over the top of the dividing wall.

One boy was bent over, his trousers round his ankles and hands braced on
his knees.  The other had his dick up his arse and was fucking him for all
he was worth.  There was no subtlety or finesse, just an urgent thrusting
of loins.

"Christ, Pat, that feels good," said the one bent down.

Pat was much too busy to answer except by fucking him even harder.

With a final "Aaaagh!" Pat shot his load, almost pushing his mate over.

"Come on, quick, it's my turn Alex," the one called Pat stammered out.

I ducked back quickly and listened as they changed places.

"Ready?" I heard Alex say.

"Ready." Pat answered.

There was no more noise for a moment or two, then I heard one of them
breathing heavily.  Once again I stuck my head over.  It was the same
scene, but with Pat now bent over.

Alex was taking things a bit slower than his mate, but he had a longer dick
I noticed as he pulled back.

There was no conversation as the boys concentrated. Judging by the speed at
which they got down to it, and the ease with which their cocks went in,
this was a well-practised routine.

"Shooting!" whispered Alex as he sank in one last time and lost his spunk
deep inside his mate.

Hurriedly I opened my door and dashed across to the stand-ups, getting my
hard cock out at the same time.

I heard the door open behind me and turned to face the boys, their faces
red from their recent exertions.

"Nice show, mates!" I said putting my cock away as I made for the door.

Leaving Home It was about half past ten when I got home, glad to see it was
in darkness which meant dad wasn't in.  I opened the door and flicked the
light on.  No result.  'Fuck it!' I said to myself and searched for a pound
coin.  When the power came on, all the lights in the flat lit up and I
jumped in surprise.

"Wha ....!" I heard from the living room.  Shit!  Dad was home!

As my bedroom was through the room he was in, I had no choice but to go
through it.

"Where you bin?" he muttered at me drunkenly.

"Out!" I replied bad-temperedly.

"Fuck you!" he said, trying to focus on me without success.  "Got any
fuckin' money?" He managed to stammer out.

"Nope," I replied, taking a firm hold of my bag.

"Bollocks!" he shouted at me and with a speed borne of desperation he
lunged at me and gave me a back-hander across the face. I fell to the floor
in agony as he snatched the bag from me.

He emptied the contents on the floor and shook it.  Hearing the coins
rattle, it didn't take him long to find the no longer secret pocket.
Madly, he pulled out a few coins and about thirty pounds in notes I'd
saved.

"Cunt!" he yelled.  "Arsehole!  Cocksucker! Fuckin' poof! Where'd you get
this from?"

With that he lay into me, kicking and slapping me wherever he could reach.
Desperately I curled up into a ball and waited for him to stop.  It went on
for ages, my body taking everything he aimed at me. Sensing he'd run out of
steam at last, I slowly uncurled and looked at him, crying hard, every bone
in my body aching.

"Please, dad!" I begged.

He leaned over, red-faced and angry.  A hand shot out and squeezed my nuts,
hard.  Giving them a vicious twist, he whispered, "Piss off, cunt! Fuckin'
get out you queer!"

Holding my throbbing nads in my hands, I watched as he staggered out of the
flat, leaving the door open.

I was past sobbing now.  My body was in total pain, but even through the
mist, I knew we'd had our last row.  I don't think he really knew how I got
that money, or even how close he was to the truth, but now he knew I had
dosh, he would come at me again and again.

Agonisingly slowly I gathered my things together and stuffed them back in
my bag, every move an effort. At last I sat on the floor and looked round
the flat with hate in my eyes.  Looked at dispassionately, I realised how
disgusting it was: dirty windows, torn curtains, filthy and greasy
furniture, naked light bulbs ...... .  There was nothing here I would
miss. Nothing. Least of all my father.  The last thing I did was to pull
all the fuses from the electric meter and throw them out of the window as
far as I could.

Walking very gingerly I made my way to the only place I knew I would be
safe.  McD's was deserted.  Spikey was nowhere in sight and even the
cottage was locked for the night.  Miserably I hid between the rubbish bins
behind McD's and curled up.

I slept fitfully, waking every so often at the sound of a car or drunken
voices.  Dawn came and the damp cold of it only added to my other aches and
pains. At least my dick and balls didn't hurt as much as they had.

As soon as the toilets were open, I staggered in and locked myself in the
nearest cubicle.

Labouriously I stripped down to my undies and took stock of myself.  There
a dozen or so marks where I'd been kicked which were already turning dull
yellows and reds, my nads were in one piece, but still very tender. I had
four bruises on my cheeks where dad had slapped me, but they were nothing
compared with the other, more painful ones.  In my bag was all I owned.
Three shirts, three underpants, trousers, socks and shoes.  In my pockets I
had seven pounds in loose change and my mobile phone.

There was no way I could earn any dosh today - apart from my damaged body,
I couldn't find the will.

In desperation, I sent a text to Jason: "Need yr help. Pls ring me."

Jason Again.

Ten minutes later my phone rang.

"What's happened?  Where are you?  Are the Police involved?"

If I'd been anywhere sensible, I would have sensed the fear for his own
safety that Jason showed for his own safety.

"No, no Police involved and I'm in Tower Hamlets," I told him, just glad to
have someone to talk to.  I then told him what had happened in full gory
detail.

"Oh, dear!" he said when I'd finished.  "Can you get to out usual place?"

"Yews, I think so," I replied.

"OK.  Ring me when you get there.  I'll see what I can do."

The underground was nice and warm and I only just managed to stay awake
long enough.  It was with some relief that I spotted Jason as soon as I
went into the park.

"Couldn't wait for you to call," he said frowning at me.  "My boy, my poor
boy, what's happened to you?"

The way he said this wasn't at all poofy or anything - he really was
worried about me.

With a struggle we made it to his flat where I collapsed in the soft chair,
breathing heavily.

"Can I take a look?" he asked.

I nodded feebly.

He got me down to my underpants and examined me carefully from head to toe.

"And down there?" he asked.

I pushed my pants down and showed him my nads.

"No damage there by the look of it," he said with a note of relief in his
voice.  "Can you make it to the bathroom?"

He helped me into the shower and sat me down on the stool, letting the warm
water wash over me.

With a delicacy I was very grateful for, he sponged me down and washed my
hair.  For once, neither him nor me got a hard on.

Once I was dry, he put my underpants back on and lay me in his bed,
bringing me a cup of tea as well.

"What are we going to do now?" he said lightly as he sat on the edge of the
bed. "You can't go home, and unfortunately for both of us, you can't stay
here either, much as I would like it."

This hit me like a ton of bricks.  For some reason in my naivety I assumed
that Jason would let me live here with him.  Now he'd said that I couldn't,
it made me realise just how much shit I was in. I was completely homeless.

On the verge of tears, I pleaded, "Couldn't one of your nice, posh friends
do something for me?"

"Most people who are posh aren't nice, and most nice people aren't posh!,"
he laughed, ruffling my hair.

At least he was laughing, which gave me some sort of hope, not matter how
little.

"You've given me an idea, though," he said suddenly.  "Wait there a
minute."

'I haven't much choice' I nearly said, but bit my tongue.

As I lay there, I heard him on the phone in the next room: he was talking
for ages before he came back and sat on the bed again.

"I've got a friend coming over to see you," he smiled.  "He might be able
to help us.  Until then, try and get some rest."

With that, he kissed me on the forehead and left, closing the door behind
him.  I didn't think I would, but after a few minutes I felt my eyes close
and I dropped off to a dreamless sleep.

I awoke to find two men looking at me from the foot of the bed.

"This's Andrew," Jason said.  "He's a friend of mine."

I guessed he was about half Jason's age, and twice mine.  He was dressed in
jeans and T-shirt with a round, cheerful face.

"Hiya!" he said, reaching out to shake my hand.  "Oops! Sorry!" he laughed.
"I forgot.  You must be Randy."

"No, I'm not.  At least not just now!" My feeble joke pleased him and he
sat down on the bed, just where Jason had been.

"So," he said, now looking serious.  "Tell me about yourself. Right from
the start."

I noticed Jason leave the room, the door left open.

Andrew was an easy person to talk to and I found myself telling him
everything.  Well almost.  I played down the way I'd earned the dosh to
live on. as well as some other little things like that. I couldn't fool him
though and he saw through me.

"How did you manage for money?"

I blushed crimson and looked away from him, embarrassed.

"I see." he said quietly.  "On the streets?"

I nodded.

"Well," he said cheerfully. "You weren't the first, and you won't be the
last I suppose. And a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Right?"

I grinned at him wryly.  At least he understood.

"Right," he said again, slapping me painfully on the legs.  "Don't go away.
I'll be back."

He left, closing the door behind him this time and I heard Jason and him
talking quietly.

An hour later they came back together.  I looked from one to the other,
nervously, my fists clenched under the sheet and a funny feeling in my
tummy.

"How would you like to come and stay with me for a few days?" Andrew
asked. At least until we can sort something out."

I nodded briskly, almost crying with relief.

"OK. Do you think you can get up?"

Wincing as I struggled out bed, he gasped as he saw my bruises.

"Christ!" he said as he stared at the nicely developing marks.

With a great deal of help and no small effort, we managed to get me dressed
and ready to go wherever we were going.  I turned to Jason and looked at
him.  Stupidly I stuck out my hand as if to shake his.  Instead, I hugged
him tightly and whispered my heart-felt thanks.

"That's OK, Randy," he smiled.  "Behave yourself and be a good boy for
Andrew. I'll see you soon I hope."

There was a gleam in his eye which told me all I needed to know.

Andrew.

Andrew lived in Camberwell.  I'd never been that far out before, but I knew
where it was of course. He told me that he was a writer, and wrote books.
He lived in a roof-top flat by himself and was the most untidy person in
the world.  I could tell that from the mess in his car, which hadn't been
cleaned in years by the look of it.

"What's your proper name?" he asked as we negotiated a round-about.  "I
can't keep calling you Randy, people will talk!" he laughed.

"Ian. Ian McPherson," I told him.  It'd been so long since I had used my
last name that it sounded strange to me.

"OK. For the time being We'll call you Ian Woods. That's my name, and if
anyone asks you're my nephew.  OK?"

"OK," I grinned.  I liked this man.

The flat was a mess: he was right.  Not dirty or uncared for though like
mine.  Just very untidy. He shrugged his shoulders at me as if to say 'told
you so' and smiled.  It was a nice, warm sort of smile and so I grinned
back.

"Your room is just here," he said as he opened a door.  It was a bright,
tidy room with a single bed against the wall.  "It's never used," he said,
"That's why it's not in a mess."

I smiled at him and said thanks.

"OK, Mr Ian Woods," he said. "Here's our plan.  You get yourself into bed
and then I'm going to call a doctor friend of mine to come and check you
over to make sure nothing's broken.  I'll tell him you were mugged on your
way over here.  Is that allright with you?"

I nodded happily.

"Can you get yourself undressed and into bed?"

I probably could, I thought, but I'd rather not - and I suspected that
Andrew might like to help me anyway!  I made a painful attempt to bend my
arm and unfasten a button.

Laughing, he did the job for me.  He knew I was messing about but didn't
let on.  As he pulled my trousers off, he looked from my undies up to my
face, his eyes asking the question.  I said and did nothing except look
back at him expectantly.  Slipping his fingers under the waistband of my
pants, he slowly eased them down, letting his eyes stay fixed on my pride
and joy just for those extra few seconds which told me a lot.  "I can see
why Jason liked you," he whispered.

The doctor came and examined me thoroughly.  He even lifted my balls up and
told me to cough.  I managed to do it just before I threw an erection for
him.

When he'd finished, he called Andrew back in and told him what he'd found
out.

"No broken bones. Cracked rib maybe, but at his age that'll heal in no
time.  Bruises will go in a few days.  Everything else seems to be in
order."

I sighed with relief: at least my nads were in working order as far as we
knew.

"He needs feeding up though," he added smiling at me.  "A boy's diet of
hamburgers, fries and Coke does need some real food once in a while!"

I stayed in bed after he'd gone, at least for as long as I could anyway.  I
got bored though and there was no TV or anything else to do.

Carefully I opened the bedroom door and peeped out. Andrew turned to look
at me and smiled.

"Had enough rest?" he enquired.

"I think so. I got a bit bored anyway. Hope you don't mind."

"No. Come on in." he waved me into the room, politely ignoring the fact
that I was dressed in only my pants.  At least they were clean.

There was only one chair in the room which wasn't full of books and papers
an so I did the only thing I could.  I sat on the arm of his chair, putting
my arm round his neck for support.  He finished the page of the book he was
reading and put it on the floor.  Opening his arms, he invited me to sit on
his lap. Grinning like a kid, I slid down and made myself comfortable.

After a few minutes, Andrew put his arms round my waist and I felt him
relax.

"What did Jason call you?" Andrew asked.

"Randy," I giggled.

"Why?" he laughed.

" 'Cause my pecker was always hard!"

I went on to tell him all about how he liked looking at me and touching me
all over except you- know-where, and how he'd shown me those pictures and
everything.

Andrew was very quiet all the time I was talking as if he was thinking all
the time.

"And you didn't do anything else with him?"

"No," I said, not telling him about the one time I'd made him cum.  "Why?"

"It's a long story," Andrew said. "I'll probably tell you one day."

"Did you live with him?" I asked, several pieces of the jigsaw dropping
into place.

Andrew looked at me oddly and then said, " You're very sharp aren't you.  I
couldn't have been much older than you when he took me in and I lived with
him until I was nearly 25."

I wanted to ask him why he left, but instead asked him, "Did you, you know
do things together?"

It was a stupid thing to say - once again my mouth had run away with me -
and I regretted having asked such a personal question so soon after we'd
met.  I bit my lower lip and looked at him apologetically.

He laughed and said, "There are some questions you shouldn't ask.  But to
answer you simply, he took good care of me at a very difficult time of my
life."

Putting on a serious face, I said, "Will you take care of me?  Please?"

"We'll see," he said lightly and pushed me off his knee.  I stared for a
second at the boner in his pants and he looked at mine tenting my undies
out.  We both adjusted ourselves to make things more comfortable and I sat
back down on his lap.

"Randy!" he grinned.

We watched TV for a while and then we had something to eat before we went
to our beds.

"That's my room," he told me pointing to the door next to mine, "I'll leave
it open a bit and you leave yours open too That way I can hear you if you
fall out of bed or anything."

There was so much stuff going round my head that it took ages for me to go
to sleep, but at last I dropped off, the last thing I remember being Andrew
and Jason talking quietly on the phone.

The next thing I knew was waking up to find Andrew holding me tightly: I
was sweating and shaking badly, looking round to see where dad was.

"What happened?" I asked.

"You were having a nightmare," he whispered. "But it's OK. I'm here now."

"I dreamed my dad was kicking and kicking me again, and he wouldn't stop,"
I cried.

"It's allright," Andrew soothed.  "It's all over.  He can't touch you any
more.  He's gone.  You're safe now."

Wiping my tears away with the back of my hand, I clung to Andrew
desperately.  He climbed in bed alongside me and cuddled up.  Feeling safer
now, I hugged him back and drifted back to sleep.

I awoke the following morning spooned up in Andrew's back, my hand inside
his pants and my woodie between his thighs.  Acutely embarrassed to find
myself in this situation, I pulled my hand out of his pants and slowly
rolled onto my back, my boner tenting up the sheet until I willed it to go
down. Thankfully, Andrew said nothing about my indiscretion, but a sly
smile and knowing look told me that he knew.

It took a few days for my hurts to go away, and a few more for the bruises
to disappear.  I also felt better because Andrew had made me eat what the
doctor had called 'proper food' and without knowing it, I began to look
much better.

Andrew was grateful that I was willing to tidy the flat up and keep it in
some sort of order for him (us!)  To begin with he showed me his study
which should really have been another bedroom but he'd put a desk and lots
of bookshelves in it.  There were books and papers all over the place too,
but Andrew said that I wasn't to move anything about in there as he knew
just where everything was.  I didn't believe him though 'cause there was so
much stuff, but I did as I was told.

On my first day I collected all his dirty washing (tons of it!) and mine
(six pieces!) And put it in the washing machine. It was only afterwards
that I realised the only clothes I had left were the undies I was wearing.
Still I didn't mind, I actually liked being nearly naked.  And, like Jason,
Andrew was OK with it too.  Later on he was good enough though to fill my
drawers with new clothes for me - shirts, socks and all the other stuff.

During those first few days when I was settling in, Andrew and I talked a
lot.  I enjoyed talking, and he liked listening.  He asked questions which
took a lot of answering and it wasn't long before he knew absolutely
everything about me.  The other thing his questions did was somehow make me
think about myself, especially about the way I had been living.

For example, we were half-watching TV one night, sat on his settee with him
at one end and me laid on my back with my head in his lap, looking up at
him.

"Do you miss the sex?" he asked, resting his hand on my tummy.

"Yes," I said.  The after a moments thought.  "No, not really."

I thought a bit more about it for a minute or two then went on, "I had no
choice at first, it was the only way to earn money and I didn't hardly have
to do anything for it.  There were some men I liked doing it with more than
others and I liked it then. But mostly it was boring." 'And dangerous' I
thought to myself.

"Would you do it again?"

That really made me think.

"Dunno," I said honestly.  "If I had to, I guess I would. But I wouldn't
like it if I had to do it just for the money. I like having sex with some
people and would do it with them anyway, even if I didn't have to."

My mind went back to the times Spikey and I had messed about together
because we wanted to, and the funny little boy in Shoreditch, and Jason as
well. Subconsciously I slid my hand into my shorts and cradled my growing
erection.

Andrew laughed, whether at what I'd said, or what I was doing down my
shorts, I didn't know.  I could also feel his boner under my head.

"Have you eve done it for money?" I asked.

"Yes. But not because I had to though." he replied.

"Tell me about it?" I asked, making myself more comfortable.

"I wasn't much older than you," he started.  "I lived with an old uncle and
aunt not far from here, my parents had died when I was little. Every day I
used to pass some toilets on the way to and from school.  It didn't take me
long to work out why I was always followed in by men," he laughed.

"Well, one day I let a man touch me and I tossed him off, and he gave me a
couple of pounds.

>From then on I was in there every day!  Wasn't for the money though, we
had enough of that. It was just because I liked it."

"Is that how you met Jason?"

"No, not at all." Andrew adjusted his cock, and daringly, I rested my hand
on it, over his trousers.

He sighed just a little and went on.

"I got caught one day by a plain clothes policeman. He took me to my uncle
and aunt's and told them what I'd been doing.  Then the shit hit the fan!
They would have thrown me out there and then if there was anywhere to throw
me.  Instead, they sent me to Coventry."

"Why Coventry?" I asked.

Andrew laughed and patted my tummy.

"Sent to Coventry means that they stop talking to you!" he
explained. "Different story!"

"Anyway, they knew Jason and got me a job with him, working in his studio
and I went to live in his house."

"Did they know that he, well, you know," I said.

"I think so, but all they wanted was to get rid of me.  I learned later
that they'd even paid him for a year to keep me."

"He doesn't do much though, does he?  He never tried to do anything except
just look at me without any clothes on."

"Don't you believe it!  He's getting old now and he's quite famous.  When
he was younger, well, he and I were ......" Andrew waved an arm in the air
and left it to my imagination.

By now I was feeling really horny for the first time since I'd left home -
I could feel the wetness of precum in my shorts.  I took hold of Andrew's
zip and started to slide it down for him.  He stopped me.

"Are you sure?  I don't think you ...."

I put a finger on his lips and shut him up.  I knew enough about men to
know that this was what he wanted, whether he knew it or not.

"Please?" I whined. "It's been so long ......"

He took his hand away and closed his eyes.

I'd had his cock in my hand before, but I was asleep then and didn't know
anything about it.  This time I was awake and knew perfectly well what I
was doing.

It wasn't easy getting a good feel of him under his pants and undies and I
was getting frustrated.

Andrew lifted him bum up a bit and I pulled his things down.  I lay there
with my head on his bare thighs, gazing at his cock and balls just a few
inches away as I let my fingers wander all over them.

Somewhere a million miles distant, I felt my shorts being taken off.

" 'S'not fair," I mumbled as I weighed his balls in my hand.

"What isn't fair?" he asked, rubbing my shaft with his thumb.

"You're still dressed," I giggled.

"So?"

I sat across his knees and took his shirt off.  I knelt on the floor and
took everything else off.  We looked at each other, knowing that this was
going to be OK.

Lifting his legs up, I lay him full length on the settee and stretched
myself out on top of him, my legs between his and my arms on his chest.  I
gazed into his eyes, searching for something.

I might not be very old, and not very clever, but as I lay there with
Andrew, I realised something about myself.  I liked what we were doing and
I was utterly and completely happy.

"You allright?" Andrew said.

I nodded in reply, still holding my gaze.

"I've never felt like this before," I whispered.

"What?"

"Really happy. Safe, warm.  Wanted."

I didn't really know what I felt except that I never wanted anything to
change.  It wasn't the sex by itself although I knew that would come, it
was that another person actually cared for me and worried on my behalf.  I
put my hand on his chest and listened to his heart.

"Can I stay here for ever?" I mumbled.

I felt Andrew's chest heave as he tried to laugh.  "I'd love to," he
stammered, "but we've got to eat sometime, and go to the bathroom!"

"No, you dope," I giggled, "I mean stay here with you, in your house, for
ever and ever."

"That's a big question," Andrew said, "For ever is a long time, but you can
stay here for just as long as you like."

Without a second thought, I kissed him on the lips, and hugged
him. "Thanks!" I said quietly.

We lay there for ages, stroking and petting each other and even kissing
once in a while.  It couldn't have been the sex that kept us going 'cause
both our dicks had gone half-soft, but we were OK.

It was after eleven o'clock when Andrew pushed me off him and stood up.

"Toilet," he explained.

When he came back, he put his pants back on and went into the kitchen.
After a while he came back with some tea and biscuits for us.

"Supper, and then bed," he grinned.

Putting my shorts on, we sat and ate, watching the late night news.

"Bed," he said once we'd finished.

"Not tired," I replied.  And I wasn't - I was far too excited tom even
think of sleeping.

"Well, I am," Andrew smiled, stretching himself.  "You do what you like,
I'm off."

He went into his bedroom, leaving his door ajar I noticed.

Ten minutes later, I put my head round it and looked at him reading his
book.

"What?" his eyes said.

"I'm cold and I might have another nightmare," I lied.

"Randy!" he grinned.  "Randy the vamp!"

I didn't know what a vamp was. Some sort of vampire?  I didn't care.
Closing the door behind me I took my shorts off and I climbed into bed with
him. I tried to read the book with him, but there were too many big words
and it was boring.  In any case there were other things I was more
interested in.  Cuddling up closer to him, I put my hand on his stomach and
began a slow crawl downwards.

He wasn't reading anymore, I could tell, and so I took his book away and
kissed him, grinning broadly.  Whilst I was kissing him, I eased his pants
off and took hold of his handsome, solid prick.

Andrew turned the table top lamp off and pulled me on top of him, resting
his hands on my butt, pressing me into him.

We rolled around a bit and caressed each other all over.  He got me so
excited that I was going to cum soon and I didn't want to, not yet anyway.

Breaking away from him, I turned round and put my mouth round his dick.  It
tasted fantastic!  No bad smell or taste of piss, just sheer delight!  I
let it slide down my throat and settled down to enjoy myself.

Up above I felt Andrew ease my cock in his mouth ands start to suck me.  He
was good, very good.  It wasn't long before I felt that I was close to
cumming again, but before I could do anything about it, I fired my gobs of
cum down his throat, my hips and dick spasming with the effort.  It'd been
so long since I last came that there seemed to be gallons of it!

I didn't pause in my efforts with Andrew for very long though, he hadn't
cum yet and I was determined to make him.

"Again," I demanded, "Do it some more!"

Bravely, Andrew took me in again and gently licked me all over, sucking out
the last few drops of my spunk.

When Andrew came, there was even more stuff than I'd made.  It didn't shoot
out like mine, it more sort of leaked out for ages like a tap.  I swallowed
as much of it as I could, but some escaped from my mouth. As I was busy
swallowing his delicious cum and licking my lips, I orgasmed again to my
surprise and gave him another taste of me.

As we cuddled our hot, sweaty bodies together, totally fucked, I whispered,
"Thanks!  That was totally brilliant!"

Andrew looked at me with moist eyes and said, "You were fantastic.  It's
been a long time.  Thank you!"

Well, that was our first time, but not the last of course.  Now we share
the same bed most nights, only sleeping apart when one or other of us is
extra tired, or Andrew is out late.  We don't have sex every night though.
Sometimes we just cuddle up together and talk until we go to sleep.

The sex, when we have it, is getting better and better as we get to know
each other.  Orgasms can be put off as long as we like and when we do let
ourselves cum, they are really spectacular and totally mind-blowing.

As I said at the beginning, its been two months now and I have never been
happier.  Andrew has fixed things so that he now employs me as his
'Researcher' and pays me a bit of money each week.

I am also going to a new school until I can leave properly next year.  He
is helping me with my reading and writing and he says that I will be good
one day.

I think about my old life sometimes, but it is so long ago and so different
that it is almost as if I was someone else.  I don't care about dad in the
slightest.  He could have been better I suppose, looked after me more, but
in a funny sort of way, I'm glad he didn't.  Spikey, I now realise was
always going to be a loser.  He didn't give a shit about anything except
himself mostly, and that never works.

I'm stopping now so Andrew can read it and check it out for me.  In a few
weeks, I'll write some more about me and him, but for now I want to spend
some more time with him P.S.  I've learned what Ganymede, catamite and vamp
mean, and I don't care!

The End ************************* List of my other stories on Nifty: List
of longer my stories posted on the Nifty Stories site:
                              Cairo Holiday
/nifty/gay/highschool/cairo-holiday/ A developing story
of two teenage boys who meet when one of them is on holiday to Egypt. It
tells of their developing relationship and the liaisons they have with the
local boys. They grow to like each other - and more. They share a mutual
desire to explore this magical city, and discover more than they ever
thought they would, not only about Egypt but also themselves. Things change
however, when their families learn about their special relationship.

                              Forest House
/nifty/gay/adult-youth/forest-house/ Life in a home for
teenage boys leads a young care worker into finding a new side to himself
which he didn't know existed, and at the same time teaches a group of
behaviour-problem boys that life can be fun sometimes!

                              Gareth's Story
/nifty/gay/highschool/gareths-story/ Gareth is in care,
and has been asked to put his life history down on paper. Despite his
misgivings, he does, and in so doing discovers not only himself but new
friends. Later on he meets a new friend and his life improves as he moves
out of care to join a new family.

                                   Garry and John Stories
/nifty/gay/adult-youth/garry-and-john/ The story of
John, a university undergraduate and his 12-year-old cousin who find they
enjoy each other's company and more, despite family differences. They
strike up a loving relationship and John takes Garry away from an abusive
and unloving home.

Garry and John Make A Home follows on, they leave Oxford behind and set up
home together.

Despite problems, they both mature together and find that they can't live
apart.

In the third part, they leave England and move to Cairo where their
relationship develops and they make new friends and find life is fun as
well as interesting!

                              Life Is What You Make It
/nifty/gay/college/life-is-what-you-make-it/ Story of a
boy who leaves school and spends the summer trying to find out who he
is. He finds a soul-mate from his old school and, despite their different
cultures, learn that they have a great deal in common, eventually setting
up home together.

                              Tanta
/nifty/gay/adult-youth/tanta/ Ahmed is the young
house-boy for a young accountant working in Egypt. A relationship soon
develops which suits them both and before long they are living together,
much to the satisfaction of them both.

Tom Brown's Schoolboy
/nifty/gay/adult-youth/tom-browns-schoolboy/ Story about
a young boy from a very disadvantaged background who is befriended by one
of his teachers who helps him move on to a much better life.

                              Brian is Different
/nifty/gay/adult-youth/brian-is-different/



Disclaimer: This story contains scenes of a sexual nature between two boys,
and a man & boy. If this is not to your taste, or is illegal where you
live, or you find it morally offensive, 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!

Comments are always welcome at johnvenn1945@yahoo.co.uk
************************************************** Part 2 Life Goes On.

More and more I spent my days travelling on the buses and tubes to new
places, apart from anything else it killed time. Without knowing it, I
became an expert on where the best cottages were within an hour of where I
lived!

I saw less and less of Spikey too. He'd become friendly with a gang of boys
who I didn't like very much. He started smoking and drinking a lot, and
using hash as well. All the money he got he spent on shit. The last time I
saw him he was stoned out of his mind trying to pick up a punter in the
local park. He didn't even recognise me.

It was in a park in Shoreditch that I had the most fun I'd had in ages,
apart from when I was with Jason. I'd actually gone into a bog for a crap
for once, and was sat down with my kecks round my ankles and reading some
of the dirty writing on the wall, with one hand stroking my dick when I
noticed an eye looking at me through one of the small holes in the wall
between the cubicles. I'd picked up men like this before and knew the
routine. I leaned back and showed the hole my dick, giving him time to get
a good look. When I looked back at the eye, instead of giving me a look at
his nads, it continued to stare at me. Giving him one more chance, I stood
up in front of him and played with my dick.

No reaction at all. In fact when I looked at the eye properly, to see what
his game was, I had the distinct impression that it wasn't a very old
one. Younger than me at any rate.

Digging in my back-pack I found a pen and ripping off a piece of toilet
paper, I wrote, "What do you want?" on it, rolled it up into a tube and
pushed it through the hole.

"Can I feel it?" Came back the reply in a childish scrawl.

"How old are you/" I added and sent it back.

"I'm nine. How old are you?"

I was knocked for six. Amused as well. I'd never had fun with anybody that
young; in fact at that age, as far as I was concerned, the only thing my
dick was for was for pissing through.

"Fourteen" I wrote. "Wanna come in here?"

The bolt on his door banged back and I reached across from where I was sat
to unfasten mine.

There was a quick scamper of feet, the door was pressed back and a
fair-faced kid burst in, his face a broad grin.

"Thanks!" he said as he bolted the door again.

He wasn't all that good looking, a bit thin and pasty looking in fact, but
he wasn't ugly either. His face was glowing red with excitement and a wide
toothy grin spreads across it. Without a second's hesitation, he pushed his
pants and undies down to his knees and stood in front of me, proudly
displaying his goodies.

His two inch cock was hard and pointing straight at me, rising from a ball
sac which was still tight up in his crotch.

I felt them lightly, the smooth delicate, almost transparent skin sliding
under my fingers. He giggled as I tickled him , obviously enjoying it.

Reaching down, he bent his fingers round my dick and held it lightly, not
moving. Then he moved to my balls and felt them, moving the eggs from side
to side. I let him play like this as I enjoyed myself with his miniature
set of nads. From the way he was feeling me, it was obvious that he was new
to this.

"Done this before?" I whispered.

He nodded back furiously. "Yeah Twice. With boys like you. Fun ain't it!"

He told me that he lived across the road and had watched people going in
and out of the bogs a lot.

Then one day he'd hidden in a cubicle and watched men and boys toss each
other off in the stalls through a hole in the door.

"I don't wanna do it with men though," he giggled. "I like boys better. Do
you?"

"Yes," I said. " 'Specially boys like you."

This got another laugh and a little excited dance on the floor.

"Ever do anything else?" I asked, knowing the answer.

He looked puzzled for a moment and said, "No. What else can we do?"

"Stand still and don't move," I told him, putting my hands on his small
hips and staring at his lovely little cock.

Slowly I moved my head down and delicately licked up and down his shaft a
few times.

"Oh wow!" I heard him sigh. "That's good. Feels awesome!"

"It gets better," I whispered. "If you want."

"Oh yeah. Do it, do it."

I took his pulsating knob in my mouth and sucked gently, using my tongue at
the same time.

There were no sounds from him this time and I looked up. His eyes were
glazed, staring into space and his mouth wide open.

"Like it?" I giggled.

He nodded his head up and down. "Do it some more," he begged.

This time I did it properly for him and had the pleasure of feeling his
body shiver with delight. I knew he wasn't old enough to cum yet, but he
could probably orgasm, which he did for me after a few glorious minutes.

His orgasm was spectacular to say the least. I felt his cock expand in my
mouth: he put his hands on my shoulders and face-fucked me like a jack
rabbit, his hips banging backwards and forwards with all the strength he
had.

Dramatically, he pulled out of my mouth and would have collapse if I hadn't
held on to him. Whilst he was spaced out, I pulled his pants up and sat him
on the bowl.

"Like that?" I asked as I dressed myself.

"Fucking yeah!" he gasped. "Out of this world. What happened?"

"You orgasmed. Feels great don't it?"

He nodded, still not quite himself.

"What's your name?" I asked, picking up my bag.

"Alan. What's yours?"

"Randy," I told him as I let myself out. "See ya!"

As I walked away I grinned to myself. He was probably the first boy ever to
learn about blowjobs before he could wank!

The National Gallery On the north side of Trafalgar Square is the National
Gallery which is like a museum but full of pictures. I'd heard Jason
mention it once or twice and in the hope of seeing more paintings like the
ones he'd shown me, I went to explore. So as not to stand out too much, I'd
changed into my 'Jason' clothes before going through the enormous doors.

There were thousands and thousands of pictures I soon discovered and they
didn't seem to be in any particular order. Pictures of battles were mixed
up with ones of flowers, pictures of ugly old men with posh ladies. I
didn't see any nude pictures though hardly anywhere. The few I saw were of
fat women laying down, smiling at you but with their hands over their fanny
so you couldn't see anything anyway. There were lots of guards and
attendants around, but I could hardly go up and ask them could I?  Instead
I wandered around aimlessly hoping I'd find them by accident. By the time I
got to the top floor I hadn't seen any, so I sat on a bench in the middle
of the floor and looked at a big picture of a battle with hundreds of men
holding spears and swords and things. I was staring at the faces of the
dying men, wondering what it was like to die when two boys passed between
me and the picture.

They must've been from a school party as they were in blue uniform blazers
and white shirts, and looked to be about 13 years old.

You can always tell when boys are up to something and these two definitely
were. Keeping out of sight I followed them; there was no need to hide from
them though as they were so busy giggling and punching each other playfully
that they would never have seen me.

Not totally unexpectedly they dived into the toilets at the end of the
room. Giving them a minute to sort themselves out, I went through the same
door, closing it quietly behind me.

The piss holes were empty. The sit-down doors were all open, except one. As
quiet as a mouse I crept into the one next door and turned the knob to lock
it. Sitting down, I closed my eyes and listened intently.

"Come on Pat, hurry up, we haven't got long."

The voice was posh and well-spoken. Some swishy private school I guessed.

"OK, OK, keep your hair on. Ready?"

There was no reply except for a muted 'Ouch!'  Very carefully I poked my
head over the top of the dividing wall.

One boy was bent over, his trousers round his ankles and hands braced on
his knees. The other had his dick up his arse and was fucking him for all
he was worth. There was no subtlety or finesse, just an urgent thrusting of
loins.

"Christ, Pat, that feels good," said the one bent down.

Pat was much too busy to answer except by fucking him even harder.

With a final "Aaaagh!" Pat shot his load, almost pushing his mate over.

"Come on, quick, it's my turn Alex," the one called Pat stammered out.

I ducked back quickly and listened as they changed places.

"Ready?" I heard Alex say.

"Ready." Pat answered.

There was no more noise for a moment or two, then I heard one of them
breathing heavily. Once again I stuck my head over. It was the same scene,
but with Pat now bent over.

Alex was taking things a bit slower than his mate, but he had a longer dick
I noticed as he pulled back.

There was no conversation as the boys concentrated. Judging by the speed at
which they got down to it, and the ease with which their cocks went in,
this was a well-practised routine.

"Shooting!" whispered Alex as he sank in one last time and lost his spunk
deep inside his mate.

Hurriedly I opened my door and dashed across to the stand-ups, getting my
hard cock out at the same time.

I heard the door open behind me and turned to face the boys, their faces
red from their recent exertions.

"Nice show, mates!" I said putting my cock away as I made for the door.

Leaving Home It was about half past ten when I got home, glad to see it was
in darkness which meant dad wasn't in. I opened the door and flicked the
light on. No result. 'Fuck it!' I said to myself and searched for a pound
coin. When the power came on, all the lights in the flat lit up and I
jumped in surprise.

"Wha ....!" I heard from the living room. Shit! Dad was home!

As my bedroom was through the room he was in, I had no choice but to go
through it.

"Where you bin?" he muttered at me drunkenly.

"Out!" I replied bad-temperedly.

"Fuck you!" he said, trying to focus on me without success. "Got any
fuckin' money?" He managed to stammer out.

"Nope," I replied, taking a firm hold of my bag.

"Bollocks!" he shouted at me and with a speed borne of desperation he
lunged at me and gave me a back-hander across the face. I fell to the floor
in agony as he snatched the bag from me.

He emptied the contents on the floor and shook it. Hearing the coins
rattle, it didn't take him long to find the no longer secret pocket. Madly,
he pulled out a few coins and about thirty pounds in notes I'd saved.

"Cunt!" he yelled. "Arsehole! Cocksucker! Fuckin' poof! Where'd you get
this from?"

With that he lay into me, kicking and slapping me wherever he could
reach. Desperately I curled up into a ball and waited for him to stop. It
went on for ages, my body taking everything he aimed at me. Sensing he'd
run out of steam at last, I slowly uncurled and looked at him, crying hard,
every bone in my body aching.

"Please, dad!" I begged.

He leaned over, red-faced and angry. A hand shot out and squeezed my nuts,
hard. Giving them a vicious twist, he whispered, "Piss off, cunt! Fuckin'
get out you queer!"

Holding my throbbing nads in my hands, I watched as he staggered out of the
flat, leaving the door open.

I was past sobbing now. My body was in total pain, but even through the
mist, I knew we'd had our last row. I don't think he really knew how I got
that money, or even how close he was to the truth, but now he knew I had
dosh, he would come at me again and again.

Agonisingly slowly I gathered my things together and stuffed them back in
my bag, every move an effort. At last I sat on the floor and looked round
the flat with hate in my eyes. Looked at dispassionately, I realised how
disgusting it was: dirty windows, torn curtains, filthy and greasy
furniture, naked light bulbs ...... . There was nothing here I would
miss. Nothing. Least of all my father. The last thing I did was to pull all
the fuses from the electric meter and throw them out of the window as far
as I could.

Walking very gingerly I made my way to the only place I knew I would be
safe. McD's was deserted. Spikey was nowhere in sight and even the cottage
was locked for the night. Miserably I hid between the rubbish bins behind
McD's and curled up.

I slept fitfully, waking every so often at the sound of a car or drunken
voices. Dawn came and the damp cold of it only added to my other aches and
pains. At least my dick and balls didn't hurt as much as they had.

As soon as the toilets were open, I staggered in and locked myself in the
nearest cubicle.

Labouriously I stripped down to my undies and took stock of myself. There a
dozen or so marks where I'd been kicked which were already turning dull
yellows and reds, my nads were in one piece, but still very tender. I had
four bruises on my cheeks where dad had slapped me, but they were nothing
compared with the other, more painful ones. In my bag was all I
owned. Three shirts, three underpants, trousers, socks and shoes. In my
pockets I had seven pounds in loose change and my mobile phone.

There was no way I could earn any dosh today - apart from my damaged body,
I couldn't find the will.

In desperation, I sent a text to Jason: "Need yr help. Pls ring me."

Jason Again.

Ten minutes later my phone rang.

"What's happened? Where are you? Are the Police involved?"

If I'd been anywhere sensible, I would have sensed the fear for his own
safety that Jason showed for his own safety.

"No, no Police involved and I'm in Tower Hamlets," I told him, just glad to
have someone to talk to. I then told him what had happened in full gory
detail.

"Oh, dear!" he said when I'd finished. "Can you get to out usual place?"

"Yews, I think so," I replied.

"OK. Ring me when you get there. I'll see what I can do."

The underground was nice and warm and I only just managed to stay awake
long enough. It was with some relief that I spotted Jason as soon as I went
into the park.

"Couldn't wait for you to call," he said frowning at me. "My boy, my poor
boy, what's happened to you?"

The way he said this wasn't at all poofy or anything - he really was
worried about me.

With a struggle we made it to his flat where I collapsed in the soft chair,
breathing heavily.

"Can I take a look?" he asked.

I nodded feebly.

He got me down to my underpants and examined me carefully from head to toe.

"And down there?" he asked.

I pushed my pants down and showed him my nads.

"No damage there by the look of it," he said with a note of relief in his
voice. "Can you make it to the bathroom?"

He helped me into the shower and sat me down on the stool, letting the warm
water wash over me.

With a delicacy I was very grateful for, he sponged me down and washed my
hair. For once, neither him nor me got a hard on.

Once I was dry, he put my underpants back on and lay me in his bed,
bringing me a cup of tea as well.

"What are we going to do now?" he said lightly as he sat on the edge of the
bed. "You can't go home, and unfortunately for both of us, you can't stay
here either, much as I would like it."

This hit me like a ton of bricks. For some reason in my naivety I assumed
that Jason would let me live here with him. Now he'd said that I couldn't,
it made me realise just how much shit I was in. I was completely homeless.

On the verge of tears, I pleaded, "Couldn't one of your nice, posh friends
do something for me?"

"Most people who are posh aren't nice, and most nice people aren't posh!,"
he laughed, ruffling my hair.

At least he was laughing, which gave me some sort of hope, not matter how
little.

"You've given me an idea, though," he said suddenly. "Wait there a minute."

'I haven't much choice' I nearly said, but bit my tongue.

As I lay there, I heard him on the phone in the next room: he was talking
for ages before he came back and sat on the bed again.

"I've got a friend coming over to see you," he smiled. "He might be able to
help us. Until then, try and get some rest."

With that, he kissed me on the forehead and left, closing the door behind
him. I didn't think I would, but after a few minutes I felt my eyes close
and I dropped off to a dreamless sleep.

I awoke to find two men looking at me from the foot of the bed.

"This's Andrew," Jason said. "He's a friend of mine."

I guessed he was about half Jason's age, and twice mine. He was dressed in
jeans and T-shirt with a round, cheerful face.

"Hiya!" he said, reaching out to shake my hand. "Oops! Sorry!" he
laughed. "I forgot. You must be Randy."

"No, I'm not. At least not just now!" My feeble joke pleased him and he sat
down on the bed, just where Jason had been.

"So," he said, now looking serious. "Tell me about yourself. Right from the
start."

I noticed Jason leave the room, the door left open.

Andrew was an easy person to talk to and I found myself telling him
everything. Well almost. I played down the way I'd earned the dosh to live
on. as well as some other little things like that. I couldn't fool him
though and he saw through me.

"How did you manage for money?"

I blushed crimson and looked away from him, embarrassed.

"I see." he said quietly. "On the streets?"

I nodded.

"Well," he said cheerfully. "You weren't the first, and you won't be the
last I suppose. And a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Right?"

I grinned at him wryly. At least he understood.

"Right," he said again, slapping me painfully on the legs. "Don't go
away. I'll be back."

He left, closing the door behind him this time and I heard Jason and him
talking quietly.

An hour later they came back together. I looked from one to the other,
nervously, my fists clenched under the sheet and a funny feeling in my
tummy.

"How would you like to come and stay with me for a few days?" Andrew
asked. At least until we can sort something out."

I nodded briskly, almost crying with relief.

"OK. Do you think you can get up?"

Wincing as I struggled out bed, he gasped as he saw my bruises.

"Christ!" he said as he stared at the nicely developing marks.

With a great deal of help and no small effort, we managed to get me dressed
and ready to go wherever we were going. I turned to Jason and looked at
him. Stupidly I stuck out my hand as if to shake his. Instead, I hugged him
tightly and whispered my heart-felt thanks.

"That's OK, Randy," he smiled. "Behave yourself and be a good boy for
Andrew. I'll see you soon I hope."

There was a gleam in his eye which told me all I needed to know.

Andrew.

Andrew lived in Camberwell. I'd never been that far out before, but I knew
where it was of course. He told me that he was a writer, and wrote
books. He lived in a roof-top flat by himself and was the most untidy
person in the world. I could tell that from the mess in his car, which
hadn't been cleaned in years by the look of it.

"What's your proper name?" he asked as we negotiated a round-about. "I
can't keep calling you Randy, people will talk!" he laughed.

"Ian. Ian McPherson," I told him. It'd been so long since I had used my
last name that it sounded strange to me.

"OK. For the time being We'll call you Ian Woods. That's my name, and if
anyone asks you're my nephew. OK?"

"OK," I grinned. I liked this man.

The flat was a mess: he was right. Not dirty or uncared for though like
mine. Just very untidy. He shrugged his shoulders at me as if to say 'told
you so' and smiled. It was a nice, warm sort of smile and so I grinned
back.

"Your room is just here," he said as he opened a door. It was a bright,
tidy room with a single bed against the wall. "It's never used," he said,
"That's why it's not in a mess."

I smiled at him and said thanks.

"OK, Mr Ian Woods," he said. "Here's our plan. You get yourself into bed
and then I'm going to call a doctor friend of mine to come and check you
over to make sure nothing's broken. I'll tell him you were mugged on your
way over here. Is that allright with you?"

I nodded happily.

"Can you get yourself undressed and into bed?"

I probably could, I thought, but I'd rather not - and I suspected that
Andrew might like to help me anyway! I made a painful attempt to bend my
arm and unfasten a button.

Laughing, he did the job for me. He knew I was messing about but didn't let
on. As he pulled my trousers off, he looked from my undies up to my face,
his eyes asking the question. I said and did nothing except look back at
him expectantly. Slipping his fingers under the waistband of my pants, he
slowly eased them down, letting his eyes stay fixed on my pride and joy
just for those extra few seconds which told me a lot. "I can see why Jason
liked you," he whispered.

The doctor came and examined me thoroughly. He even lifted my balls up and
told me to cough. I managed to do it just before I threw an erection for
him.

When he'd finished, he called Andrew back in and told him what he'd found
out.

"No broken bones. Cracked rib maybe, but at his age that'll heal in no
time. Bruises will go in a few days. Everything else seems to be in order."

I sighed with relief: at least my nads were in working order as far as we
knew.

"He needs feeding up though," he added smiling at me. "A boy's diet of
hamburgers, fries and Coke does need some real food once in a while!"

I stayed in bed after he'd gone, at least for as long as I could anyway. I
got bored though and there was no TV or anything else to do.

Carefully I opened the bedroom door and peeped out. Andrew turned to look
at me and smiled.

"Had enough rest?" he enquired.

"I think so. I got a bit bored anyway. Hope you don't mind."

"No. Come on in." he waved me into the room, politely ignoring the fact
that I was dressed in only my pants. At least they were clean.

There was only one chair in the room which wasn't full of books and papers
an so I did the only thing I could. I sat on the arm of his chair, putting
my arm round his neck for support. He finished the page of the book he was
reading and put it on the floor. Opening his arms, he invited me to sit on
his lap. Grinning like a kid, I slid down and made myself comfortable.

After a few minutes, Andrew put his arms round my waist and I felt him
relax.

"What did Jason call you?" Andrew asked.

"Randy," I giggled.

"Why?" he laughed.

" 'Cause my pecker was always hard!"

I went on to tell him all about how he liked looking at me and touching me
all over except you- know-where, and how he'd shown me those pictures and
everything.

Andrew was very quiet all the time I was talking as if he was thinking all
the time.

"And you didn't do anything else with him?"

"No," I said, not telling him about the one time I'd made him cum. "Why?"

"It's a long story," Andrew said. "I'll probably tell you one day."

"Did you live with him?" I asked, several pieces of the jigsaw dropping
into place.

Andrew looked at me oddly and then said, " You're very sharp aren't you. I
couldn't have been much older than you when he took me in and I lived with
him until I was nearly 25."

I wanted to ask him why he left, but instead asked him, "Did you, you know
do things together?"

It was a stupid thing to say - once again my mouth had run away with me -
and I regretted having asked such a personal question so soon after we'd
met. I bit my lower lip and looked at him apologetically.

He laughed and said, "There are some questions you shouldn't ask. But to
answer you simply, he took good care of me at a very difficult time of my
life."

Putting on a serious face, I said, "Will you take care of me? Please?"

"We'll see," he said lightly and pushed me off his knee. I stared for a
second at the boner in his pants and he looked at mine tenting my undies
out. We both adjusted ourselves to make things more comfortable and I sat
back down on his lap.

"Randy!" he grinned.

We watched TV for a while and then we had something to eat before we went
to our beds.

"That's my room," he told me pointing to the door next to mine, "I'll leave
it open a bit and you leave yours open too That way I can hear you if you
fall out of bed or anything."

There was so much stuff going round my head that it took ages for me to go
to sleep, but at last I dropped off, the last thing I remember being Andrew
and Jason talking quietly on the phone.

The next thing I knew was waking up to find Andrew holding me tightly: I
was sweating and shaking badly, looking round to see where dad was.

"What happened?" I asked.

"You were having a nightmare," he whispered. "But it's OK. I'm here now."

"I dreamed my dad was kicking and kicking me again, and he wouldn't stop,"
I cried.

"It's allright," Andrew soothed. "It's all over. He can't touch you any
more. He's gone. You're safe now."

Wiping my tears away with the back of my hand, I clung to Andrew
desperately. He climbed in bed alongside me and cuddled up. Feeling safer
now, I hugged him back and drifted back to sleep.

I awoke the following morning spooned up in Andrew's back, my hand inside
his pants and my woodie between his thighs. Acutely embarrassed to find
myself in this situation, I pulled my hand out of his pants and slowly
rolled onto my back, my boner tenting up the sheet until I willed it to go
down. Thankfully, Andrew said nothing about my indiscretion, but a sly
smile and knowing look told me that he knew.

It took a few days for my hurts to go away, and a few more for the bruises
to disappear. I also felt better because Andrew had made me eat what the
doctor had called 'proper food' and without knowing it, I began to look
much better.

Andrew was grateful that I was willing to tidy the flat up and keep it in
some sort of order for him (us!) To begin with he showed me his study which
should really have been another bedroom but he'd put a desk and lots of
bookshelves in it. There were books and papers all over the place too, but
Andrew said that I wasn't to move anything about in there as he knew just
where everything was. I didn't believe him though 'cause there was so much
stuff, but I did as I was told.

On my first day I collected all his dirty washing (tons of it!) and mine
(six pieces!) And put it in the washing machine. It was only afterwards
that I realised the only clothes I had left were the undies I was
wearing. Still I didn't mind, I actually liked being nearly naked. And,
like Jason, Andrew was OK with it too. Later on he was good enough though
to fill my drawers with new clothes for me - shirts, socks and all the
other stuff.

During those first few days when I was settling in, Andrew and I talked a
lot. I enjoyed talking, and he liked listening. He asked questions which
took a lot of answering and it wasn't long before he knew absolutely
everything about me. The other thing his questions did was somehow make me
think about myself, especially about the way I had been living.

For example, we were half-watching TV one night, sat on his settee with him
at one end and me laid on my back with my head in his lap, looking up at
him.

"Do you miss the sex?" he asked, resting his hand on my tummy.

"Yes," I said. The after a moments thought. "No, not really."

I thought a bit more about it for a minute or two then went on, "I had no
choice at first, it was the only way to earn money and I didn't hardly have
to do anything for it. There were some men I liked doing it with more than
others and I liked it then. But mostly it was boring." 'And dangerous' I
thought to myself.

"Would you do it again?"

That really made me think.

"Dunno," I said honestly. "If I had to, I guess I would. But I wouldn't
like it if I had to do it just for the money. I like having sex with some
people and would do it with them anyway, even if I didn't have to."

My mind went back to the times Spikey and I had messed about together
because we wanted to, and the funny little boy in Shoreditch, and Jason as
well. Subconsciously I slid my hand into my shorts and cradled my growing
erection.

Andrew laughed, whether at what I'd said, or what I was doing down my
shorts, I didn't know. I could also feel his boner under my head.

"Have you eve done it for money?" I asked.

"Yes. But not because I had to though." he replied.

"Tell me about it?" I asked, making myself more comfortable.

"I wasn't much older than you," he started. "I lived with an old uncle and
aunt not far from here, my parents had died when I was little. Every day I
used to pass some toilets on the way to and from school. It didn't take me
long to work out why I was always followed in by men," he laughed.

"Well, one day I let a man touch me and I tossed him off, and he gave me a
couple of pounds.

>From then on I was in there every day! Wasn't for the money though, we had
enough of that. It was just because I liked it."

"Is that how you met Jason?"

"No, not at all." Andrew adjusted his cock, and daringly, I rested my hand
on it, over his trousers.

He sighed just a little and went on.

"I got caught one day by a plain clothes policeman. He took me to my uncle
and aunt's and told them what I'd been doing. Then the shit hit the fan!
They would have thrown me out there and then if there was anywhere to throw
me. Instead, they sent me to Coventry."

"Why Coventry?" I asked.

Andrew laughed and patted my tummy.

"Sent to Coventry means that they stop talking to you!" he
explained. "Different story!"

"Anyway, they knew Jason and got me a job with him, working in his studio
and I went to live in his house."

"Did they know that he, well, you know," I said.

"I think so, but all they wanted was to get rid of me. I learned later that
they'd even paid him for a year to keep me."

"He doesn't do much though, does he? He never tried to do anything except
just look at me without any clothes on."

"Don't you believe it! He's getting old now and he's quite famous. When he
was younger, well, he and I were ......" Andrew waved an arm in the air and
left it to my imagination.

By now I was feeling really horny for the first time since I'd left home -
I could feel the wetness of precum in my shorts. I took hold of Andrew's
zip and started to slide it down for him. He stopped me.

"Are you sure? I don't think you ...."

I put a finger on his lips and shut him up. I knew enough about men to know
that this was what he wanted, whether he knew it or not.

"Please?" I whined. "It's been so long ......"

He took his hand away and closed his eyes.

I'd had his cock in my hand before, but I was asleep then and didn't know
anything about it. This time I was awake and knew perfectly well what I was
doing.

It wasn't easy getting a good feel of him under his pants and undies and I
was getting frustrated.

Andrew lifted him bum up a bit and I pulled his things down. I lay there
with my head on his bare thighs, gazing at his cock and balls just a few
inches away as I let my fingers wander all over them.

Somewhere a million miles distant, I felt my shorts being taken off.

" 'S'not fair," I mumbled as I weighed his balls in my hand.

"What isn't fair?" he asked, rubbing my shaft with his thumb.

"You're still dressed," I giggled.

"So?"

I sat across his knees and took his shirt off. I knelt on the floor and
took everything else off. We looked at each other, knowing that this was
going to be OK.

Lifting his legs up, I lay him full length on the settee and stretched
myself out on top of him, my legs between his and my arms on his chest. I
gazed into his eyes, searching for something.

I might not be very old, and not very clever, but as I lay there with
Andrew, I realised something about myself. I liked what we were doing and I
was utterly and completely happy.

"You allright?" Andrew said.

I nodded in reply, still holding my gaze.

"I've never felt like this before," I whispered.

"What?"

"Really happy. Safe, warm. Wanted."

I didn't really know what I felt except that I never wanted anything to
change. It wasn't the sex by itself although I knew that would come, it was
that another person actually cared for me and worried on my behalf. I put
my hand on his chest and listened to his heart.

"Can I stay here for ever?" I mumbled.

I felt Andrew's chest heave as he tried to laugh. "I'd love to," he
stammered, "but we've got to eat sometime, and go to the bathroom!"

"No, you dope," I giggled, "I mean stay here with you, in your house, for
ever and ever."

"That's a big question," Andrew said, "For ever is a long time, but you can
stay here for just as long as you like."

Without a second thought, I kissed him on the lips, and hugged
him. "Thanks!" I said quietly.

We lay there for ages, stroking and petting each other and even kissing
once in a while. It couldn't have been the sex that kept us going 'cause
both our dicks had gone half-soft, but we were OK.

It was after eleven o'clock when Andrew pushed me off him and stood up.

"Toilet," he explained.

When he came back, he put his pants back on and went into the
kitchen. After a while he came back with some tea and biscuits for us.

"Supper, and then bed," he grinned.

Putting my shorts on, we sat and ate, watching the late night news.

"Bed," he said once we'd finished.

"Not tired," I replied. And I wasn't - I was far too excited tom even think
of sleeping.

"Well, I am," Andrew smiled, stretching himself. "You do what you like, I'm
off."

He went into his bedroom, leaving his door ajar I noticed.

Ten minutes later, I put my head round it and looked at him reading his
book.

"What?" his eyes said.

"I'm cold and I might have another nightmare," I lied.

"Randy!" he grinned. "Randy the vamp!"

I didn't know what a vamp was. Some sort of vampire? I didn't care. Closing
the door behind me I took my shorts off and I climbed into bed with him. I
tried to read the book with him, but there were too many big words and it
was boring. In any case there were other things I was more interested
in. Cuddling up closer to him, I put my hand on his stomach and began a
slow crawl downwards.

He wasn't reading anymore, I could tell, and so I took his book away and
kissed him, grinning broadly. Whilst I was kissing him, I eased his pants
off and took hold of his handsome, solid prick.

Andrew turned the table top lamp off and pulled me on top of him, resting
his hands on my butt, pressing me into him.

We rolled around a bit and caressed each other all over. He got me so
excited that I was going to cum soon and I didn't want to, not yet anyway.

Breaking away from him, I turned round and put my mouth round his dick. It
tasted fantastic! No bad smell or taste of piss, just sheer delight! I let
it slide down my throat and settled down to enjoy myself.

Up above I felt Andrew ease my cock in his mouth ands start to suck me. He
was good, very good. It wasn't long before I felt that I was close to
cumming again, but before I could do anything about it, I fired my gobs of
cum down his throat, my hips and dick spasming with the effort. It'd been
so long since I last came that there seemed to be gallons of it!

I didn't pause in my efforts with Andrew for very long though, he hadn't
cum yet and I was determined to make him.

"Again," I demanded, "Do it some more!"

Bravely, Andrew took me in again and gently licked me all over, sucking out
the last few drops of my spunk.

When Andrew came, there was even more stuff than I'd made. It didn't shoot
out like mine, it more sort of leaked out for ages like a tap. I swallowed
as much of it as I could, but some escaped from my mouth. As I was busy
swallowing his delicious cum and licking my lips, I orgasmed again to my
surprise and gave him another taste of me.

As we cuddled our hot, sweaty bodies together, totally fucked, I whispered,
"Thanks! That was totally brilliant!"

Andrew looked at me with moist eyes and said, "You were fantastic. It's
been a long time. Thank you!"

Well, that was our first time, but not the last of course. Now we share the
same bed most nights, only sleeping apart when one or other of us is extra
tired, or Andrew is out late. We don't have sex every night
though. Sometimes we just cuddle up together and talk until we go to sleep.

The sex, when we have it, is getting better and better as we get to know
each other. Orgasms can be put off as long as we like and when we do let
ourselves cum, they are really spectacular and totally mind-blowing.

As I said at the beginning, its been two months now and I have never been
happier. Andrew has fixed things so that he now employs me as his
'Researcher' and pays me a bit of money each week.

I am also going to a new school until I can leave properly next year. He is
helping me with my reading and writing and he says that I will be good one
day.

I think about my old life sometimes, but it is so long ago and so different
that it is almost as if I was someone else. I don't care about dad in the
slightest. He could have been better I suppose, looked after me more, but
in a funny sort of way, I'm glad he didn't. Spikey, I now realise was
always going to be a loser. He didn't give a shit about anything except
himself mostly, and that never works.

I'm stopping now so Andrew can read it and check it out for me. In a few
weeks, I'll write some more about me and him, but for now I want to spend
some more time with him P.S. I've learned what Ganymede, catamite and vamp
mean, and I don't care!


The End *************************


List of longer stories posted on the Nifty Stories site:

Cairo Holiday /nifty/gay/highschool/cairo-holiday/

A developing story of two teenage boys who meet when one of them is on
holiday to Egypt. It tells of their developing relationship and the
liaisons they have with the local boys. They grow to like each other - and
more. They share a mutual desire to explore this magical city, and discover
more than they ever thought they would, not only about Egypt but also
themselves. Things change however, when their families learn about their
special relationship.



Forest House /nifty/gay/adult-youth/forest-house/

Life in a home for teenage boys leads a young care worker into finding a
new side to himself which he didn't know existed, and at the same time
teaches a group of behaviour-problem boys that life can be fun sometimes!



Gareth's Story /nifty/gay/highschool/gareths-story/

Gareth is in care, and has been asked to put his life history down on
paper. Despite his misgivings, he does, and in so doing discovers not only
himself but new friends. Later on he meets a new friend and his life
improves as he moves out of care to join a new family.



Garry and John Stories
/nifty/gay/adult-youth/garry-and-john/


The story of John, a university undergraduate and his 12-year-old cousin
who find they enjoy each other's company and more, despite family
differences. They strike up a loving relationship and John takes Garry away
from an abusive and unloving home.

Garry and John Make A Home follows on, they leave Oxford behind and set up
home together.

Despite problems, they both mature together and find that they can't live
apart.

In the third part, they leave England and move to Cairo where their
relationship develops and they make new friends and find life is fun as
well as interesting!



Life Is What You Make It
/nifty/gay/college/life-is-what-you-make-it/

Story of a boy who leaves school and spends the summer trying to find out
who he is. He finds a soul-mate from his old school and, despite their
different cultures, learn that they have a great deal in common, eventually
setting up home together.



Tanta /nifty/gay/adult-youth/tanta/

Ahmed is the young house-boy for a young accountant working in Egypt. A
relationship soon develops which suits them both and before long they are
living together, much to the satisfaction of them both.



Tom Brown's Schoolboy
/nifty/gay/adult-youth/tom-browns-schoolboy/


Story about a young boy from a very disadvantaged background who is
befriended by one of his teachers who helps him move on to a much better
life.



Brian is Different
/nifty/gay/adult-youth/brian-is-different/

Tale of a young boy who like the companionship of older men, and finds one
who eventually looks after him albeit reluctantly.