Date: Wed, 21 Jan 2009 14:14:10 -0800 (PST) From: John Venn Subject: London Street Boy - The Sequel Disclaimer: This story contains scenes of a sexual nature between men and a 16 yo 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 ************************************************** London Street Boy - The Sequel by Alexander Note: This is the second and final part of `London Street Boy'. I didn't anticipate writing this, but after several requests from readers for more, (for which many thanks!) I decided to use a few ideas I'd not used in Part 1 to complete the story. I hope you enjoy it. _____________ 1. Sweet 16 Without realising it, over the next few months I changed a lot. My body grew, my voice broke and I grew hair in the right places. I was a bit worried at first in case Andrew stopped liking me, but he told me that I had changed from being just beautiful to beautiful and handsome, which was better. He still called me `Randy' though and I knew things were OK. He only called me `Ian' when I was in trouble. Other things about me changed, almost without me knowing. I'd stopped using `fucks' and `bollocks' and so on when I spoke, not because I'd been told to, but because no one else I met used them. My east London/cockney accent had almost gone too, the `wiv' and ` 'appy' replaced by `with' and `happy', the `ain't' with `hasn't'. I still wore next to nothing around the flat, it seemed natural somehow. The only change I'd made was to get some bigger shorts to give my growing cock and balls some more room - they were still tight enough to get Andrew going though! I liked teasing him. We saw Jason quite regularly and sometimes went out for a meal together. I will be eternally grateful to him for what he did for me and getting Andrew and I fixed up. I felt a bit odd at first as I knew what he and Andrew had been to each other once, and now it was Andrew and me. I wonder if one day I will have someone to show off to Andrew? I hope not. On my sixteenth birthday we went to a posh restaurant to celebrate. Jason gave me a silver watch and Andrew a big gold chain to hang round my neck. It wasn't until Andrew pointed out that engraved on it was my name. As the joke dawned on me, I was delighted to know that the real reason it said `Randy' was still a secret between the three of us. It was late when we got home and we'd had enough to drink. We weren't drunk or anything, just merry. As we closed the front door behind us, we embraced and kissed deeply, putting all the love we could into it. "I think I like you," I whispered into Andrew's ear. "Will you take me to bed?" "The pleasure's all mine," he replied. "Yours or mine?" "Ours!" I giggled as I dragged him to his bedroom. Within seconds we were undressed and hugging each other, our clothes scattered on the floor. Urgently and passionately we kissed and fondled, arms and legs everywhere at once, erections squeezed between us. Initial ardour spent, and taking a breather to calm myself down, I rested my head against his, drawing circles round his nipples with my finger. "Happy birthday!" Andrew whispered in my ear as he nibbled at it. "Sweet 16 and never been kissed!" he added. "Soon put that right though." He turned my face towards him and kissed me once more, delicately and tenderly. "Sweet 16 and never been ....." I thought. Suddenly from the dim and distant past, a silly remembrance struck me. "Sweet 16 and never been fucked!" we used to shout at the girls when we were little kids. The combination of the drink, my extreme happiness and my lover in my arms prompted me to ask Andrew a question I wouldn't normally dream of doing. "Will you give me another present?" I asked, looking him in the eye. I think he knew what I wanted, but needed to hear it. "Will you make love to me properly." The `F' word seemed too coarse and crude to explain what I wanted. It was loving not fucking I craved. "You sure?" he asked. "It's a big step. I'm not sure about it." "We've done everything else and I've never asked before. Never even done it." I didn't believe I was actually pleading with him. But now I'd asked, I was sure that's what I needed. "But I want to do it. And I want to do it with you." "It'll hurt. Perhaps we won't even be able to manage it: it isn't easy the first time." I hd no more words left to use. I loved him and he loved me and I wanted all of him. I hoped he knew and understood that as I looked at him, pleading with my eyes. "We'll try," he agreed. "But I'm going to stop if it doesn't work." I kissed him gratefully. Leaning over, he took a condom and bottle of oil out of the cupboard. "These haven't seen the light of day for a very long time," he mused as he put them on the bedside table. I lay on my back, nervous and incredibly aroused, waiting for him to tell me what to do. "Get up on all fours," he instructed. I did as I was told and stuck my bum in the air. I heard Andrew put the condom on and jumped slightly as he began to rub the jelly, first into my bum cheeks and then on his fingers before he put one inside me. I winced slightly as I felt it go in, but by the time he'd got a second finger in, there was no pain at all, just a deep longing for more. The third finger went in, causing me to bury my head in the pillow for a second but the pain soon went and I sighed contentedly. "Ready?" Andrew asked quietly. "Ready," I replied. "If it hurts too much, tell me and I'll take it out." "OK," I said, absolutely sure I'd never do that. The instant his cock touched my ring, I knew that there was nothing in the world I wanted more than him inside me. It was the last thing I was able to offer him, freely and lovingly. My muscle contracted automatically at the touch of something going the wrong way but just as if it knew what was happening, it relaxed and Andrew slid in the first inch. The pain was bad, but not nearly enough for me to stop him, I'd felt worse. Once I'd got used to it, in fact it went away altogether and I was amazed how good I felt. "You OK?" Andrew whispered. "Yeah. Wonderful. It feels good." I said, meaning every word. Slowly he inched in, pushing his prick deeper and deeper down. It felt ten times bigger than its normal size, but I sighed contentedly as I absorbed him. "All in!" he gasped at last as he took hold of my hips. I knew that as I could feel his balls against mine. Closing my eyes I concentrated on storing in my mind how I felt, taking note of how he seemed to completely fill me inside. A glow of bliss spread through me as I realised my lover was now, at last, a real, physical part of me. Very slowly he began to slide in and out. Just a few millimetres at first, but gradually building up to a full-length, ecstatic stroke. I suddenly remembered the time I'd watched the two boys in the National Gallery and now understood their desperate desire to satisfy each other, the urgency and frantic coupling meeting their lust. As he moved back and forth I groaned and moaned with sheer rapture, not quite believing how much I was enjoying it. "That's wonderful. Never felt anything like it! Keep going," I begged. And he did, keeping up a slow steady pace to make it last as long as possible. With each stroke he made, I climbed higher and higher towards heaven. At last, there was nowhere else to go. With an almost animal groan, Andrew forced himself in me once more and I felt his cock pump out his spunk, spurt by lovely spurt. As he withdrew, I felt empty and disappointed that it was all over so soon. At the same time I was delirious with happiness. I'd been made love to at last: real, proper love, and by the man I held most dear in my life.. We were truly lovers now and I didn't care who knew it. As we lay back in bed, I noticed a damp patch underneath me. I'd spunked up somewhere along the line and didn't even know! "How was it?" Andrew asked, stroking my hair. I looked at him, tears running down my face, and shook my head from side to side. There weren't any words I could use to tell him. Instead I kissed him, hard and passionately. Once I'd calmed down a bit, I whispered, "That was the best birthday present ever! Thank you." He ruffled my hair, gave me a shit-eating grin and said, "The pleasure was all mine!" "No it wasn't, it was mine," I replied grinning. "Can we do it again?" His eyes opened wide, and not believing what he'd heard said, "What? Now?" I giggled and said, "Bet you couldn't! No," I went on. "Tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, and ..." He put a finger on my lips to shut me up. Playfully I bit it. "I guess you're happy now?" he grinned. "Randy!" I smiled and curled up against him, already dreaming of the next time. 2. America. In all the months Andrew and I had been together, we'd never been apart at night. He'd been out late sometimes, and even arrived home in the very early hours slightly the worse for drink a couple of times, but I always waited up for him. I knew what it was like coming back to an empty house. Once or twice he'd had to go away for two or three days but I went with him, staying in a separate room in the hotel. I enjoyed the change of scenery and meeting different people. It was hard not sleeping with him, but we usually managed to snatch half an hour to ourselves somewhere along the line, and a frantic romp is better than none at all! I'm sure that my presence caused a few eyebrows to be raised, but once Andrew explained that I was his nephew `learning the ropes', nothing else was said and I was forgotten about. There was only ever one incident which scared me, and that was dealt with quietly. We'd been to a talk that Andrew had given about one of his books and after he'd finished there was a little party in the hotel. As usual, I'd made myself inconspicuous, but stayed where Andrew could see me, and I could see him. I was sat on a settee when a very camp and obviously gay old man sat next to me. He got a polite smile from me before I looked away. "So," I heard him slur, "You are Andrew's boy then." Giving him the benefit of the doubt as to exactly what he meant, I told him that I worked for him. "I bet you do," he leered. "Look after him do you? Make you work hard?" There was no doubting his meaning now as he put a hand inside my thigh, much higher up than I was comfortable with. It'd been a very long time since I'd been touched up by anybody and I was shocked. I felt my body stiffen and I blushed crimson, holding my glass of wine tightly. He was whispering something in my ear, but I was in such a state of panic that I hadn't a clue what he was saying. Desperately I stared at Andrew, willing him to turn and face me. As if he sensed my predicament, he turned just at that instant and looked at me. Without changing his features, he put his glass down and excuse himself from the company. Before he could reach me however, two men pulled the old man to his feet, gently but firmly, and said, "Come on George. You've had enough. Leave the young man alone." They guided him unsteadily to the door and took him back to his room. "You OK?" Andrew asked, concerned. "Yes, thanks. He just surprised me, that's all." "Good. Don't let George worry you, he's just an old queen who drinks too much." I smiled back at Andrew. "In any case, I bet if you offered him a wank, he'd have a heart attack!" he whispered in my ear. "Once upon a time I would've taken him for twenty quid first!" I giggled into my wine, much to Andrew's amusement. We were driving back on the motorway when Andrew told me that he'd been invited to America for a four-day lecture tour and that, although he'd tried hard, it wasn't possible for me to go with him. I wasn't pleased of course, but was bright enough to know that we couldn't, or shouldn't, be in each other's pockets all the time. He had his work to do, and so did I. The fact that mine was looking after him was by the way. In any case, the break might do us both a bit of good. Andrew had an early morning flight from Heathrow a few days later and so decided that we wouldn't go to sleep that night. Doesn't mean that we didn't plan to go to bed though! We were sat on the settee in our underwear as usual, holding each other when Andrew asked me if I'd miss him. " `Course not," I grinned. "I might be able to get a good nights' sleep for once, and give my balls a chance to fill up!" "Rubbish! You'll spend all day playing with yourself," he laughed, digging a finger into my groin for emphasis. I leaned up and kissed him. " `Course I'll miss you," I whispered. "Gonna leave something behind for me to remember you by?" Lazily we embraced and kissed a few times, enjoying ourselves. Life being what it is though, it wasn't long before we were hungrily caressing and hugging. We didn't even stop when we rolled off the settee and fell on the floor. Taking my chance whilst he was laid on top of me, sucking on my nipples, I raised my legs. With a skill born of practice, he took me quickly and easily. We'd long since given up using condoms, and lubricant wasn't necessary any more. Once I felt him inside me, I sighed contentedly and crossed my legs behind his back. We didn't move for ages, his prick filling me completely and delightfully, his fingers stroking my face and chest. I clenched my butt cheeks together a couple of times to squeeze his cock, and he started to make love to me. Long, pleasurable strokes, each one given and taken with deep affection. Racing to orgasm was something we never did.. The tenderness and mutual enjoyment we gave each other was something we always made last as long as possible. The orgasm and sharing of body fluids seemed only a sort of debt we had to pay form our love-making. That isn't to say that we didn't enjoy it though! Andrew stayed on top of me until his dick went limp, and he pulled out reluctantly. Just as it fell out, there was a loud burst of clapping which almost caused my heart to stop. We'd left the TV on, and as we stared at the unexpected source of intrusion, we laughed as a quiz show audience gave us a round of applause! "Quite right too!" I laughed. Andrew had given me his going-away gift and now it was my turn. My erection, as usual, hadn't gone down and with only a little effort, I managed to tease Andrew back to full mast. "Come on," I said. "Bedroom." I pushed him down on the bed and knelt astride him. Andrew didn't enjoy being screwed as much as I did, and so we didn't do it all that often. What he did like though was sucking me off. Teasingly, I swiped my leaking member across his lips a few times before inviting him to take it. I leaned back, hands on my ankles and eased myself down his throat. Andrew's technique was fantastic. I'd tried to copy the way he gave blow jobs, but never came anywhere near his ability. His lips and tongue were everywhere, stimulating and tickling in ways which I could neve emulate. One particular trick he had was to work his tongue inside my foreskin and play with my cock-head. Every time he did this, my body froze solid and awe-inspiring bolts of electricity shot through me time and time again. Then he would close his lips around my crown and suck greedily. The sensuous ache I felt in my groin was indescribable. He always had me incapable of speech by then, and wishing frantically that he'd hurry up and give me release. He never did though - at least until he'd got me so wild with frustration that I could have strangled him. Only then would he allow me to cum, and in such a way that I'd be completely emptied. After one of his `specials' I knew from experience that it would be at least 12 hours before I could manage even a few miserable drops. Thankfully, Andrew didn't need me to go to the airport with him later that morning. Instead I curled up in bed, smelling his body as I fell asleep and wishing that I wouldn't wake up until he was back. 3. All Alone. Despite my wishes, I didn't sleep for very long, the familiar presence of Andrew was missing and I couldn't settle. To fill in the time, I took a long shower and dressed. Usually I would have tidied our flat and make myself busy, but today the place seemed a bit depressing so I decided to go out. With nowhere particular in mind, I took a bus to central London. Alighting in Trafalgar square, one of the first sights that struck me was a familiar bus destined for Tower Hamlets. On the spur of the moment, I hopped on. It had been months since I'd been there last, not since I'd left home in fact and I was a little curious to see if there'd been any changes. As the bus wound its way through surroundings that became more and more familiar, I began to feel strange. The buildings and streets which once seemed so much a part of who I was, now took on an alien feel as if I didn't belong there. Nothing much had changed physically, but I felt depressed by its squalor and threatening atmosphere. The last flat I lived in with my father was boarded up and vandalised. In a sad way that pleased me. I got off the bus outside the McD's I knew so well and walked towards it across the car park. Automatically I glanced at the cottage, half expecting to see Spikey running across to meet me. Instead I saw two or three boys hanging around, trying to earn a living as I used to. Their dirty, unkempt and uncared for appearance shocked me. Was I really as bad as that? Was I that desperate? As if he'd read my mind, one of the boys, about 12 I guessed, reeled off a torrent of good old Anglo-Saxon abuse and a V-sign, telling me in no uncertain terms that I wasn't welcome. I agreed. Turning round, I crossed the road ands waited for a bus to take me back to where I belonged. As I'd done so often before, I rang Jason to see if we could meet. He took a little calming down at first: for some reason he thought I was in trouble again! Once he'd understood, and knew Andrew was away, he invited me to visit him. "I'm in my studio. Do you know where it is?" he asked. I didn't, but knew the area and so I rang his bell just half an hour later. He was dressed in a T-shirt and flannels. (How is it that some people looked well-dressed and smart in the shittiest of old clothes and others look like tramps, even in £500 suits?) "Come in, come in," he smiled. "While the cat's way?" he added taking me by the shoulder. It took me a minute or two to work out what he meant, but then I smiled at him. "No!" I laughed. "I'm not here to play. Just to see you and chat. I felt lonely." I told him about my visit to the Hamlets and how I'd felt. "It's always a mistake going back to the places of your childhood," he said. "Places change, people change, and most of all, you change. All that happens is that you feel old and spoil any good memories you had. Although," he added, "I don't suppose you have too many of those." "No," I agreed. "But I just wanted to remind myself where I came from I suppose." "Nothing wrong with that. But it's where your going that's more important." Andrew was in one of his philosophical moods, which I find hard to cope with as I don't have a clue what he's talking about most of the time, so we sat in silence for a while, each with our own thoughts. "Enough!" Jason suddenly said, slapping me on the knee. "Too depressing. Come on, you can help me sort this place out." We worked together for a while before Jason looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. "I knew something wasn't right. You're still dressed," he grinned. "Once upon a time, you'd be stripped off almost before the door was closed!" I laughed as I bent down to take my shoes and socks off. "You're nothing but a dirty old man," I told him as my jeans and shirt came off. "Not so much of the dirty, if you don't mind, and I'm not so old either," he smiled. "Let me have a good look at you." I didn't mind in the slightest as he stared at me. In fact I felt more comfortable and at home with him wearing just my pants than I did fully dressed. "Beautiful!" he sighed. "And handsome. You improve with age, like a good wine." My dick, which had been behaving itself until now, began to grow, and the briefs I was wearing showed it. Jason coughed politely as he noticed it and looked away. We both laughed as he muttered `Randy', just loud enough for me to hear. We spent a couple of hours sorting out his store room. All we had to do was match up negatives with prints, put them in envelopes and file them away. "It's a job I hate doing," Jason said. "But its been so long since I had a sort out I was being swamped." "I don't mind. It's OK," I replied. We were taking a break and having a cup of coffee when I pointed to a grey filing cabinet in the corner which so far we hadn't opened. "What's in there?" I asked idly. "Ahh," Jason grinned. "You might appreciate these." Taking a key from his pocket, he unlocked the cabinet. Picking up a pile of envelopes he dropped them on the table. "Have a look," he said. "These are my special pictures." The packets were full of prints of nudes. Men and boys. Almost all alone, but there were a few group ones amongst them. They weren't dirty or obscene though. They were well posed and very artistic. I even recognised the poses in some of them as imitations of the Caravaggio and Donatello pictures he'd shown me before. "They're nice," I said. "I like these." Jason told me that he used to take a lot of these sort of picture years ago when there was a fashion for them. "But times have changed since then and people aren't interested anymore. Pornography they call it now, but in a more innocent age, we called it Art." He was right. The few examples of porn that I'd seen were crude pictures of rampant dicks, hairy arses, tits and fannies. Good for a quick wank but nothing else. These were captivating. "These may interest you," Jason said as he handed me a particularly thick envelope. I emptied them out on the table, about a hundred of them, all of the same person. I gasped as I recognised him. "Were these taken when he was living with you?" I asked, staring at the images as they slid through my fingers. "Ah, so he's told you then," he smiled. "I wondered if he would." The pictures started when Andrew must have ben about 14 or so and stopped when he was twenty-two or three. Almost ten years worth of growing up. Most were similar to the ones I'd already been looking at, but one or two were intensely personal. Andrew waving an erect, hairless dick at the camera. Andrew with his hands on his waist, showing off his first pubic hair. Andrew holding his cock in the age-old way, grinning lasciviously. There were just two with Jason in them. One with him kneeling in front of Andrew, gazing at his adolescent erection and the other with a naked Andrew sat on the knees of an equally naked Jason, Andrew with his mouth open and eyes glazed, caught for ever in a moment of sublime bliss as Jason brought him to a climax. I adjusted the erection in my pants, unable to hide my growing damp patch, or the end of my cock sticking out of a leg. "I don't suppose Andrew would appreciate my showing you these," Jason said. "Perhaps I shouldn't have." "That's alright, I'm glad you did," I replied quietly. "I won't tell him if you don't." "Thanks," Jason said. "You must have loved each other an awful lot," I said. "Yes. We did. Still do. But we grew apart as people do and went our separate ways. Now he has you," Jason went on. "And I'm happy for you both, I really am. You know he loves you very much, don't you?" I nodded. "I love him too." Suddenly I felt sorry for Jason. He and Andrew had been lovers for years and now he had nobody as far as I knew, and Andrew had me. Loneliness I understood. Moving across, I sat on Jason's knee and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you!," I whispered. "What for?" "Being good to Andrew, for showing me your pictures, and for just being you.." Even old men can cry, and to save Jason any embarrassment, I kissed him on the lips with my eyes closed. "No," Jason whispered as I slid my hand into his trousers. It was a `no' without any force behind it; the sort which means `yes, please'. I unfastened the zip and worked his cock out. "This is for you. And me!" I smiled as I kissed him again. Dropping down to my knees I took him in my mouth and set my tongue to work. Whatever the rights and wrongs of the situation, I didn't feel bad about what I was doing. I liked Jason a lot and would ever be grateful to him. In any case, I'd blown a lot of men in the past who meant less than nothing to me; at least I respected Jason and knew we would both enjoy ourselves. I'm also sure that Andrew wouldn't have minded either: he would understand if anyone could. Not that he'd ever find out I hoped. "Can I come back tomorrow and help again?" I asked as we dressed ourselves. Thinking he might take it the wrong way, I added, "Sorting the prints out, nothing else!" "Of course you can," Jason replied. "But let's pretend today never happened though, shall we? Not that I didn't enjoy it of course, but ..." I interrupted him. "Why? Nothing happened. All we did was talk and sort your prints out, like we're going to do tomorrow, right?" "Right," Said Jason, the event now relegated to a satisfying secret memory for both of us. 4. Working. I slept badly that night, missing Andrew more than I thought I would; the flat seemed empty and desolate without him. I went to bed early and lay in the spot he always chose. Every time I closed my eyes I saw him and my prick got hard, waiting for him to take it. I tried to jerk myself off, but my dick seemed to know it was the wrong hand, losing its hardness instantly. In the end I slept fitfully on the settee, wearing a shirt of Andrews I fished out of the laundry basket. Breakfast was a desultory affair with no one to share it with and no one to talk to, and as soon as it was finished, I tidied up and dressed. I knew that I shouldn't feel as I did: he was only to be away four days and I should be able to cope with that, after all I wasn't a kid anymore was I? But then it was the first time I'd been alone since I left home and I wasn't used to it. And somewhere at the back of my mind was a tiny irrational niggle which insisted he would never come back and I'd lost him for ever. Giving myself a mental bollocking for being so stupid, I decided that what I needed was company. Still being relatively early, I walked from the flat to Camberwell Green and down Kennington Road towards the Oval cricket ground. Like most big cities I guess, there were thousands of people scurrying around, rushing to work or going home, happy or sad faces, old or young. The only thing they had in common was their total disinterest in each other. I sat on a low wall watching them pass, wrapped up in their own worlds. Here was an overweight banker, who hadn't seen his dick in years, and anyway had no use for it other than pissing through. Here was a thin, nervous man who found his genitals a permanent embarrassment, took pains to hide them even from himself in the toilet, made love quickly and dispassionately, and had never wanked in his life. Ahh, now here comes a self-assured fitness freak who swaps dirty stories with his rugby mates, ignores other men politely in the toilets yet talks to his friends, and wanks himself silly in the solitude of his bed. Behind him comes a 30-year old who loves sex, takes it whenever and wherever he can but only for his own pleasure, not that of anyone else. I'd met them all in the past. Those who felt guilty at paying me to pleasure them and rushed away as soon as they could; those who used me as a convenience to satisfy a selfish desire and only paid because they had to, yet told their mates `I never pay for sex, I get as much pussy as I want'. And then there were the worst sort: those who loathed themselves so much that they took it out on me afterwards. The ones who did it for pure pleasure were very few and far between, sad to say. By now, I'd managed to depress myself even more, so I bought a bar of chocolate and tin of Coke before going into the Oval tube station. Jason, as always, managed to cheer me up with his incessant banter and never-ending cups of coffee. This time I kept my clothes on as we worked. "Where did you live when you were a boy?" I asked, as much to keep him talking as anything else. "Ah," he said. "Up to eight years old at home with my mother and a dragon of a nanny. From eight to eighteen in various boarding schools, then university and then in the big, wide world." "What, never at home!" I said, amazed. "Only high days and holidays," he said cheerfully. "My mother left me entirely to the tender mercies of Nurse Margaret unless she wanted to show me off to her friends. The I would be on display for an hour or two before being put back in the cupboard until next time. My father decided to ignore me until I was able to hold an intelligent conversation about Mozart or the history of The Holy Roman Empire, neither of which captured my interest. By the time I left school, I'd made my mind up that I was `unlike other men' - in those days we were called `inverts' I seem to remember. Anyway, that failed to impress my father and so we politely ignored each other from then on. All in all my family and I were a bit of a disappointment to each other," he laughed. This was a totally different world to mine of course, but we had a lot in common despite that. His life could have been little different to my own in many ways. "When did you realise you were, err, `different'," I asked. "Never did. At least not until I went to Oxford.," he replied. "At my Prep. School from eight to twelve, we slept in dormitories, shared baths, beds and bodies without a second thought. Sex hadn't been invented then, and, innocent as we were, thought nothing of it. If we were cold or homesick, we shared beds for comfort. If we were happy, we shared beds to show it." "Big school though was a revelation. Things began to drop into place if you see what I mean! You put 200 teenage boys together for five years and you can almost taste the hormones in the air!" he laughed. "As well as smell the sex. We still shared beds, baths and bodies, but now it was more pleasurable, not least because we knew it was naughty and against the rules." "Some boys became puritanical and celibate. Others dipped their toes in the water once in a while and bestowed their favours only when their hormones got out of control. A few, like yours truly, bit the apple and delighted in the taste of the forbidden fruit. Five years of buggery and banditry!" Jason sighed wistfully. "Didn't you ever get caught?" "Oh, the masters knew what was going on of course, but as several of them had their, err, `special students', it was politely ignored as a rule. Once in a while they made a fuss for form's sake and things would quieten down for a while. Not for long though. A few boys were sent home once in a while for being over-enthusiastic, especially with the younger ones, but nothing was ever made public." Jason was lost in his memories by now and I let him ramble on, only half-listening as he talked about boys he knew and what happened to them in later life, who they'd married and what they'd become. I couldn't help but compare his school with mine, where even the merest hint of anything other than straight-forward alpha-male heterosexuality would guarantee a good kicking and a year of bullying. It was late afternoon when we called a halt as Jason had to go out `on a shoot'. Promising to return tomorrow, I closed the front door behind me and headed for home. Reluctant to go indoors, I ambled along to the local park to kill some time and people-watch for a while. It wasn't a very big park, but a busy one as it was crossed by two footpaths leading from the shopping precinct and station to the houses. I sat cross-legged under a tree in the afternoon sun and stared absently at the passers-by. Mothers and push-chairs, bag-laden shoppers, homeward bound commuters, all oblivious of my presence. Including, I noticed, a fresh-faced youngster pacing up and down by the gate and furtively watching the toilets alongside. Two things made me smile. Firstly a sixth sense told me the toilets were no good for what I assumed he was looking for - they were too public for one thing. The other was his dress. Clean, unmarked school grey trousers, freshly ironed shirt and bright, shiny shoes. He was new to the game and obviously nervous. It wasn't unknown for the police to use young boys as bait when they were having a purge, but this one was too clean, too smart for that and in any case he wasn't being watched by anyone except me. Despite their efforts, the police were always perfectly obvious. I was starting to feel sorry for the boy. He was unmistakeably anxious to score, and acting the way he was, it wouldn't be long before he was picked up, but not by a punter. It was time I put him out of his misery. Making my way across towards the toilets, I smiled and gave him the slightest of nods as I passed in front of him. Ten seconds later, he followed behind me, nervous as a kitten. I'd stood at the end pisser, my cock out and half-hard. The boy stood three urinals down and fumbled with his zip. He stood close up to the bowl, keeping whatever he had well out of sight. Coughing slightly to attract his attention, I stood back a pace. Apprehensively he looked at me and then stepped back and turned to face me. He held his dick out between two fingers. It was a nice one, but nervously limp and almost hidden by his trousers. I nodded towards a cubicle and went inside, leaving the door invitingly ajar. It took him two or three seconds for him to make his mind up before he scampered in, smiling tremulously. "OK?" I whispered, locking the door. He nodded seriously, the smile gone, his dick hanging lifeless and snail-like through his fly. He hadn't even bothered to put it away. Sitting down on the toilet bowl, I unfastened his trousers and let them fall to the floor, leaving him in just his spotless white Adidas briefs. Giving him my best confidence-inspiring grin, I took them down for him. "Very nice," I whispered. "You've got a beauty!" This brought a smile to his face and a very slight hardening of his boyhood.. Mine hardened completely. I put my hands on his hips and scanned his prick. It was a delicate pink, almost unused by the look of it I thought, with a soft sort of silvery translucence. Virginal and unabused, it could have been freshly made yesterday. "Can I touch it?" I asked. "Yes, please," he replied with a trembling rasp. "What's your name? I queried as I coaxed him to erection. "Peter." "Mike," I lied. "This's a real beauty," I told him as I stroked. Starting from what had been just a two-inch nub of a pubescent cock, I watched astounded as it grew to almost four inches in length. I'm not a size-queen by any means, but the change in length of his tool impressed me.. "Wow!" I gasped. "That's amazing!" "Yeah," he giggled. "It always does that." "What do you want to do?" I said, staring at his almost hairless crotch. "Play with it. Make me cum," he moaned. Talk about innocent! `Peter' or whatever his name was, hadn't got a clue what a treasure he had between his legs, or what delights it could give him - and others. I could have sent him to the moon and back with a blow job, to the sun and back with it filling my insides, but they weren't on the menu. If only we were in a different place and had more time. So, I pleasured myself, and him, by toying with his prick and balls as he expected, fingering and fondling him gently and delicately. He'd put his hands on my shoulders to keep his balance, and I could feel his nails digging into me as his grip tightened and his breathing became more ragged as he thrilled to my touch. I eased off a bit until he'd relaxed. "First time you've done this sort of thing?" I asked. "Yeah. That's alright, isn't it? You don't mind do you?" Christ! I wouldn't have believed there was anyone alive who was this naive if I hadn't heard it myself. Unbelievable! He was even apologising for it! "I don't mind at all," I managed to stumble out. "I'm very glad you chose me for your first." " `S OK. You gonna make me cum now?" Using just my finger and thumb I stroked up and down the undefiled pink rod, making him purr with delight. Then I used all my four fingers to bring him towards his so much demanded climax. As I watched his prick redden and swell under my grip, I noticed him take a handkerchief from his shirt pocket, ready to collect his spunk which was about to shoot out. To my surprise, he forced into his mouth as he jetted out three long ropes of cum, each one flying like an arrow from his convulsing tool. Even with his mouth stuffed, he moaned loud enough to leave anyone in earshot in no doubt that he'd orgasmed massively. "Sorry!" he giggled. "I always sort of yell out when I cum, and the hankie keeps it quiet!" Using the same hankie, he cleaned himself up meticulously, re-folded it and put it back in his pocket. "Thanks!" he said red-faced. "That was the best ever!" He dressed himself and made ready to leave. "See you outside," I whispered. "Let's talk for a bit." "OK," he nodded. He hadn't made any attempt to touch me, or offer to return the favour, which although I didn't expect him to, wanted badly. I relived myself in half a dozen ecstatic strokes before making myself presentable. He was sat on the grass waiting. I had to tell him a few things in all fairness before he got himself into serious trouble either with the police, or more likely and probably worse, the local homophobics. I did my best to explain as simply as I could the incredible risk he'd taken. I explained what sort of people he would meet and what they might do to him. "Got any money in your pocket? Mobile phone? Wrist watch?" He nodded yes to all three. "You'll lose those," I said. "Before they beat you up." This, at least made him think. "But, ..." he started to say, then stopped. I knew exactly what was going through his mind. "Aren't there any boys at your school? Or where you live?" I asked. "Yes, but they wouldn't ever ..." "Did you like what we did? Do you like doing it?" "Yeah." "So did I. We aren't the only ones you know. I bet most of the boys in your school jack off. And those that say they don't are liars!" I grinned. "So, all you have to do is to find someone who likes it as much as you. And a boy as good-looking as you shouldn't have any problems there. Just be careful, that's all." "But how will I know who it is?" "Oh, you'll know if you look hard enough. You'll both know!" He thought this over for a few moments and said, "I've seen one or two boys looking at me, but never thought ...." "Well, there you go then, that's a start!" "Yeah. Thanks very much," he grinned. " I've got to go, but can I see you again?" "I'll be around," I replied. "I'll keep an eye open for you.." I wish I was his age I thought as I walked home. Then I would make sure I saw him again. The following day, the last I would be alone in the flat, I was up early and gave everything a good clean and put everything away in its proper place. I even emptied the washing machine and ironed the clothes - a job I hated. I was looking forward to having Andrew back and so in a cheerful mood I went to Jason's. He'd had enough of filing for the time being and so he took me on a tour of his studio. It was bigger than it seemed to be at first glance and had more rooms than I thought. In my ignorance I assumed that he took a picture with one of the dozens of cameras he seemed to have, took the film to a shop and got back his negatives and prints. Not so! There was a studio with lights, posh chairs, backcloths, silver umbrella things and lots of other stuff Then there was his darkroom where he developed and printed his pictures. It was like a school science laboratory with lots of complicated machines and developing tanks. How he knew where anything was in the dark, I'll never know. As a special treat, he offered to take a picture of me to show me how it all worked together. In yet another room he had dozens of costumes, some of which I recognised from the prints we'd been sorting. There were also lots of art books with pictures of famous paintings and sculptures in them - just like the ones he had at home. I would've liked him to take one of me posing nude like the `David' statute or the `Love Conquers All' painting, but I didn't like to ask. We ended up with a long white shirt-thing and a red jerkin for me, and a pretend sword. "Get undressed and I'll show you how to wear them," Jason told me. I stripped off down to my pants, (Why do I always seem to be getting undressed?) and looked at Jason expectantly. "Best leave those on," he grinned, "If you want me to take your picture and not be distracted!" I smiled at him and did as I was asked, although I wouldn't really have minded a bit of messing about first! The white shirt thing came down to the middle of my thighs, and the red jackety-thing he put on top, tying them round the waist with a bit of white rope. Back in the studio he spent ages getting me to stand in the right position and hold the sword properly, but at last he seemed satisfied. "Only one thing," he said. Taking a piece of cloth he rolled it up into a tube and wedged it in my underpants. I giggled at this, pleased that he'd thought of it. Once he started work, Jason seemed to forget I was there and clicked away for ages. He didn't take just one photograph, he must've taken 20 or 30 from different angles and places, with me looking different ways. When he'd finished taking the pictures, he disappeared into the darkroom. A red light lit up a `Do Not Enter' sign and I could just about hear him working. Not knowing what else to do, I got dressed and went back to filing his prints. The special cabinet was locked. After he'd finished, he brought out two prints to show me; they were brilliant! He'd made me look sort of butch and sexy at the same time, the sword ready to kill somebody, and yet with what seemed to be a hard on at the same time, just about noticeable through the shirt. Somehow the sword, false boner and my sort of horny look all fitted together. "You can have those," Jason said as he put them in an envelope for me. "Andrew might like them. And that was it really. We chatted for a bit longer about nothing in particular, the only thing of interest was that Jason asked if I would like to do some part-time work for him. Helping around the studio and finishing off the filing sort of thing. I didn't know what to do. Part of me wanted to do it, but another part didn't. I would like the work and could learn a lot, but then how would it fit in with Andrew? And would he even let me work with Jason? "I'll have to ask Andrew," I said, to get out of a slightly awkward situation. We parted soon afterwards; it was getting late and I wanted to be well on the way home before the rush hour started. After spending another restless, solitary night, I woke up early, instantly remembering that Andrew was due home today. Happily I got out of bed and had a long, hot shower. Staying in just my underpants, I had breakfast and washed up. Despite the fact that the flat had hardly been used, and it had already been cleaned to within an inch of its life, I did it again. By nine o'clock it had been done and I was bored and couldn't settle. I would have gone to Heathrow to meet Andrew, but I had no idea what time he was due in, and in any case the airport was virgin territory for me - I wouldn't have a clue where to go. The only thing I could do was send him a text message asking what time he landed. I would've said a lot more, but wasn't sure if anyone else could see text messages! The only thing left was to go out for a walk and waste some time that way. Whilst picking out a T-shirt to wear, I came across an old pair of swimming trunks. It had been months since I'd been swimming and it would make a change. The trunks, of course, were far too small for me now - it amazed me how much I'd grown since I came to live with Andrew - and not just in the way you think, although that had grown quite satisfactorily as well! Throwing a towel and stuff into my back-pack, I wandered down to the local sports store and bought two pairs of swimmers - a pair of knee-length ones which hid everything, and a pair of the tiniest thong-like things I'd ever seen, which hid next to nothing. They'd be nice to wear around the house, and believe it or not, they were more expensive than the shorts! The local pool was a fairly old one, but busy. Half the pool had been roped off for a school party which was a pain as it didn't leave a lot of room. Still, there were only a few adults around so it wasn't too bad. Ignoring everyone as much as possible, I did a few lengths until my arms and legs began to ache. Climbing out of the water, I sat on the edge, watching the people in the pool. The school party, the oldest of which couldn't have been any more than eight years old were getting ready to leave. Also in the pool were three or four older men who were doing lengths together, slowly and deliberately. Scattered around were another dozen or so people, half of whom were women. Not in the slightest bit interested in them, I concentrated on the others. Two were body-builder types, muscular and hairy. They had reasonably good-looking packages, and knew it. I could see their dicks bulging out their trunks, and so could the women for whom they were posing. The other men captured my interest. At a guess, they weren't here just for the swimming. Their eyes were everywhere, but mostly on the young boys, with an occasional glance at the body builders. They all wore normal sorts of costumes: not too small, but not too big either. Two of them had taken pains to make their cocks as inconspicuous as possible, bending them downwards over their balls. Ok until you spring a boner! The others had placed them pointing upwards, visible to those who cared to notice. At least one of them had artificially enhanced his by the look of it - either that or he was hung like a donkey! None of them seemed too interested in me, thank goodness, and I certainly wasn't bothered about them. The pool life guards were though I noticed, they were taking it in turns to watch them. A new school party arrived, a group of twelve/thirteen year old boys taking the kids place. This was going to get interesting I thought. They were a lively bunch: noisy and out of control until the teachers sorted them out to play a game of water polo. One or two I considered to be quite good looking, with nice tight packages. None were too bad though and I watched them idly, wishing that my friend of the other day was somewhere among them. Half of the group were sat around the pool, supposedly watching the other half play. I let my eyes slip from groin to groin, mentally assessing them. My dick hardened up in my shorts, but a quick glance told me it wasn't visible. Not so with two of the pervs. They were staring, goggle eyed at the feast laid out in front of them, their cocks now visibly and obviously erect. I slipped into the water as two of the guards politely suggested that it was time they left. With only a slight shrug of their shoulders, they went to get changed. After another twenty minutes, I'd had enough and headed for the changing rooms. On the way past the toilets, as much out of habit as anything else, I went to check them out. Unlike the rest of the building, the toilets had been modernised recently. Gone were the Victorian red brick and white tile walls. Now it had been re-built with a sort of do-it-yourself kit with aluminium frames and thin wood panels for the cubicles and a stainless steel trough to piss in. The doors and walls of the cubicles stopped six inches short of the floor and six foot above it. Ideal for the cleaners of course, and a paradise for pervs. Already there were spy holes through the panels in all the right places! A hole through the door of the end cubicle, the one I'd chosen to check out, allowed you to look straight down the piss trough. Some good planning I thought. Still, I wasn't complaining as I sat down to wait and see if anything would happen. Every boy pisses in a different way, and over the next half hour, I saw most of them. The shy and nervous ones slipped their dicks out through the legs of their trunks and stood as close to the trough as they could. Most boys dropped their trunks to just below their balls and held their dicks with a hand either above or below and watched their piss run down the trough. Some of them, much to my surprise and delight, dropped their things down to their knees or ankles and took a pace back before arching their backs to aim at the back of the trough or up the wall, hands on their hips. Two boys came in together and stood side-by-side, trunks dropped to their balls. Shamelessly, they checked each other out, letting their half-erect dicks rest on their fingers, giving one another a perfect view. Before putting them away, each gave a few suggestive strokes of their cocks. I bet there were more than just good friends. The best one, though, was the last. He came straight to the cubicle next to mine and dropped his trunks. As I turned to put an eye to the hole, I saw I'd been beaten to it as a brown eye looked back at me. Then it disappeared. Curious, I bent down and peered back through the same hole. Incredibly, he was facing the hole with his legs splayed and his balls resting on a hand. The other was frantically rubbing his four inch dick for my benefit. He must think it's one of the boys from his class in here I thought, smiling. Automatically, I leaned back as his spunk shot straight towards me in several high-powered spurts. Only the wall stopped me from getting a face-full! "Fuck!" I heard him moan as he pumped the last few drops from his wilting dick. I had just enough time to take note of his few bright ginger hairs and white trunks before he left - without flushing the toilet. Ten minutes later as I was leaving, I spotted him sat on the pool-side talking to a mate. He glanced towards me as I walked past, but there wasn't even the faintest flicker of recognition. I wondered which boy he thought he was showing off to in the toilet. On the way home I picked up a Big Mac and was chewing on it when my phone buzzed to let me know I'd got a text message. Almost dropping the burger, I groped for it and retrieved the message. Andrew was in the airport and would be home in two hours! I threw my lunch in a litter bin and ran for home as fast as I could. I spent the next age pacing up and down the lounge and anxiously staring out of the window, looking for the taxi to arrive. I almost wore the clock out by staring at it very two minutes, watching the hands creep slowly round. Three times I put the kettle on to boil, sure that he would be here within the next five minutes. And then there it was - the black London taxi drawn up outside with Andrew unloading his suitcase and paying the driver. For a moment I thought of running down the stairs to meet him, but then thought that would be silly. Instead I forced myself to sit down on the easy chair and wait for him, trying to pretend that I wasn't at all hyper-excited. It didn't work. Just as soon as I heard his key in the lock, I sprang up, raced to the door and dragged him inside, smothering him with kisses even before he'd closed it. "Whoa there boy," he grinned, giving me another kiss. "At least let me get in!" I was almost dancing on the spot as I held his hand and stared at him. My heart was beating fast enough to burst and I even felt tears in the corner of my eyes as I looked at him. "How are you?" he asked. "Everything OK?" I shook my head and hugged him tightly - there was a lump in my throat big enough to choke me: there was no way could I speak. Somehow we managed to struggle across to the settee and collapse on it, still holding on to each other. Frantically I took his jacket and tie off, unbuttoned his shirt and wrapped my arms round his waist, anxious for skin-to-skin contact to make sure he was really here. We kissed again, this time more slowly and passionately: life was perfect once more, all my anxieties of the past few days wiped away in an instant. "If this is the sort of reception I get when I come home, I must go away more often," he laughed, roughing up my hair. Then I felt silly. Stupid even. I was 16, and I was behaving like a six-year-old. He'd been away four days and I was acting as if it had been half a lifetime. Blushing deeply, I relaxed and let him go. "Had a good time?" I managed to stammer out. "It's good to have you home." Talk about understatements! "Yes thanks. And it's good to be home. I've missed you," he said quietly. "It's been just as hard for me. There wasn't an hour when I didn't think of you." I could tell he meant it, and it made me feel good. We sat without speaking for ages, just holding each other and grinning madly once in a while. There was so much I wanted to tell him, so much I wanted to talk about, but I couldn't - my mind just wouldn't focus. "Tea," I said after a while. "You hungry?" "No, thanks, just tea will be fine." Grateful for something to do, I busied myself in the kitchen whilst Andrew sorted his case out. As we sat down again, somewhat calmer now, I gave him a brief run-down of what I'd been doing whilst he was away, careful to leave out the bits about Jason and the photographs and the incidents with the boys. They weren't important. What I did do though was show him the picture of me dressed as a soldier, which impressed him no end. As did the news that Jason had offered me a little job as well. He thought this was a good idea and said I should go ahead and take it if I wanted. Eventually we talked ourselves out and sat watching the TV in comfortable silence, with me in my usual position: stretched out on the settee with my head in his lap. "Want to go out to eat?" Andrew said mid-evening. "You must be hungry." "Let's have something indoors," I suggested. "What, a take-away? Indian? Chinese?" he said. "No, English!" I grinned, unfastening his belt. Somehow we managed to get ourselves into bed before we attacked each other on the carpet and began to make up for the four missing days. By midnight we were physically and emotionally exhausted, but still wide awake. Wrapping myself around him, I lay my head on his chest and toyed with his nipples. "Next time you go away," I whispered, "I'm going with you. I can't go through this again!" There was no reply. Glancing up, I saw he'd fallen asleep. I kissed him softly on the lips, saw him smile, put my head back on his chest and joined him. 4. Work. Before I knew it, I'd left school and was now totally free of `the system'. After a long talk with Andrew, I decided to take up an offer from Jason and go to work for him full-time. I enjoyed the work once I'd got the hang of it and he even allowed me to take some of the simple portrait pictures in the studio. I also sorted his collection out eventually, and try to make sure he keeps it in some sort of order. And the other thing is that I get to keep my clothes on all the time now! Which isn't true at home. Once I am indoors with Andrew, there is nothing we like more than to strip down to our underpants and relax, touching and holding each other whenever we feel like it. Even in bed we still cuddle up and hang on to each other as if we aren't complete unless we are touching. The sex we have is unbelievable - not that we do anything every night: neither of us could cope with that. But we both somehow know when the need is there and take it as it comes. Our relationship is a very loving and tender one which is growing by the day. I can't see any time in the future when we won't be together - even on the necessary separations we must have from time to time, we make sue we talk to each other every day. Apart from anything else, I never want to go through another four days like the American experience. Just to finish up with, Jason and I went out recently to do some industrial photography which we do once in a while: photographs of new buildings or machinery, stuff like that. Well, this time we went to Tower Hamlets to take some pictures of a new, award-winning housing development. Much to my astonishment, and delight, the development was exactly where I used to live. There isn't a sign now of the old flats and houses where I use to live and `work', even the McD's and the car park have gone. As far as I was concerned, it was brilliant: I could at last totally and permanently try to forget that period of my life and concentrate on Andrew and I. Talking of which, I wonder where I put that thong ...... The End *********************************** List of my other 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/ Brian, even at his young age, knows that he likes the attention of older men and much to his delight finds one who, reluctantly, is willing to satisfy his need. London Street Boy /nifty/gay/adult-youth/london-street-boy/ Tells the tale of a boy who ends up having to learn how to earn a living on the streets of London, and all that it entails. For various reasons, he decides that it isn't the life for him and makes a determined effort to improve his station in life. My Foster Brother /nifty/gay/incest/my-foster-brother/ Two teenage boys become the best of friends after one of them is adopted into a new family and they both grow up together, learning and discovering a new side to themselves. Leo's Pride and Joy /nifty/gay/adult-youth/leos-pride-and-joy/ Leo moves in to a new flat and quickly meets a young neighbour who impresses him with his mental abilities and before long they become the best of friends. Alec In Wonderland (Short Story) /nifty/gay/young-friends/alex-in-wonderland/ Little tale about a horny boy who falls down a rabbit hole to discover all the boys of his dreams!