WARNING: This story contains mildly sexually explicit scenes involving sex between a minor and an adult. Do not read the contents if it will offend you. If accessing this story causes you to break local laws (village, town, city, county, province, state, or country, etc.), please leave now.
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Memories of Love.
By `Don Colclough'
And `narrated' by John Teller.
Foreword.
This story is for DC who has been one of my closest friends ever since I began writing stories for publication on Nifty, and apart from the recent sabbatical I took out for personal reasons, we have remained in touch ever since.
DC is like most folk who visit Nifty, he is a pretty normal guy who is happily married and he doesn't go around abusing kids or other folk and is content with his memories. During our correspondence he told me about his memories and we had an internet chuckle about them. Then he said he would write a story about them and send it to me. Now then, although DC is a very intelligent chap, he's most definitely not a scribe. We had more internet chuckles when I told him that the first thing I look for in a story is to see if it's at least half-decently written, and I told him that his story would be binned as far as I was concerned because he couldn't write to save his life. So he challenged me to edit it for him. I told him it was so badly written that I wouldn't even begin to edit it. Then he suggested we do it between us. I told him that also wouldn't work. (I'd tried it a long time ago with another of my old and trusted friends and it didn't work.)
Anyway, to cut a very long story short I told him I would rewrite the whole thing and send it to him and he could make up his mind whether or not it was okay. So I did, writing it in the 2nd person because I was `speaking' for him, sort of treating him like a baby. He loves it. In fact he's read it through and told me that I've captured his memories almost perfectly. Real memories they are too! This is not made up stuff... this is the real deal... DC's memories in print so to speak.
So, folks, I hope you enjoy DC's memories as much as I do. He really is a lovely guy. The only problem with him is that he falls in love too easily. The soft old bugger. LOL.
*Note! DC is an alias. Only I know his real name and my lips are forever sealed as they are with matters from all my correspondents. I never reveal to anyone who says what when they write to me.*
**********
Part 1.
It was the autumn of 1958. You were nineteen years old when first you met Him!
You were wild in those days... going for the biggest penny and taking jobs that were exciting to you. When you left school at the age of fifteen and shunned education even though you were intelligent, it was because you wanted to see life and experience the world. You'd had enough of classrooms and strict teachers. But you always were adventurous. It was part of your makeup. But you got a shock when the Careers Officer found you your first job. It was because of your school report. Donald Colclough is a highly intelligent boy but he refuses to accept discipline. Given the right circumstances, Donald can go far in life if he learns to apply himself. So they sent you to a local engineering factory to be an apprentice toolmaker. Oh dear! Nobody understood you, especially the Careers Officer. Being an apprentice toolmaker meant more school – night school to be precise. But you had better things to do at night than go to night school. Your evenings were for playing football or rockin' and rollin' at the local youth club. And for meeting, or trying to meet boys you had a crush on.
Oh yes... you loved boys when you were fifteen and you'd lost count of how many you'd had a crush on by the time you got to that age. There was Alan and Roger and Ken and Alan and Stew and Alan and John and John and Michael and David and... and... oh, the list is too long. Some you never even got to know their names. You saw them, fell hopelessly in love with them and a few weeks later you couldn't understand what you saw in them in the first place. None were of a sexual nature. You hadn't got to that stage yet. Well, you always were a bit immature. You just loved boys and that was that. You did fall in love with one girl. It was at a pub where your mam and dad took you. In fact, you fell in love with the son of the landlord of the pub at the same time. He was about seven years old and he would join you in the play area while the old people drank their ales and stouts. His name was Myles. What a lovely name! A lovely name before its time.
Back to the toolmaking. Six months and you were away from there. Then a host of jobs ranging from working in a bakery making bread to delivering milk with milkmen. You didn't fancy the blokes. You were not into blokes... just boys younger than you. And nobody ever molested you or even tried to even though you were quite a handsome young man. Wrong. Just one did. You were working at a civil engineering company as assistant to a mechanic who serviced the vehicles. There was a bloke in the fitting shop who fancied you. You kept out of his way. He was a pain in the backside. (Not literally.) But that job was where you discovered your true calling in life... getting behind the wheel of whatever you could. In fact, vehicles of every type became your calling. Civil Engineering Company: cars and vans and lorries and diggers and bulldozers and etc. You learned to drive them all and you passed your driving test when you were almost eighteen. In those days a car licence entitled you to drive anything from a car to a twenty-tonner and even a low-loader lorry that you hauled bulldozers and diggers about on. Then you passed your test on a motorcycle, and then for tracked vehicles, which entailed you taking the thing one hundred yards and turning it right and left and stopping it.
Too long at that job... you needed variation in your life. The early JCB's were about to hit the market big style. Good old Joseph Bamford! He was your passport to many things, and that included love and heartache. You'll forgive him for the heartache bit even though it still hurts sixty years later. It was the love bit that was special.
***********************
The heartache bit. It was the autumn of 1958. You were nineteen years old when first you met Him!
You rolled up on your JCB that had been hired out to a road gang. They were resurfacing the road. It wasn't a big job. Three weeks work and then you were off. You saw Him on day one. He lived in the end house of a row of cottages. (Let's skip the Him and He bit. His name was Eddie Rowson and he was nine years old.) He came through his gate on his way to school. He stopped and looked at what was going on around him. He looked at you and you looked at him. To him, apart from you driving an excavator, which all kids love – you were nothing special. To you, he was the boy of your endless dreams. Blond hair and blue eyes and a crew cut. To this day you think he was the most beautiful boy you ever met. And what followed was a hopelessly love-sick excavator driver praying for every opportunistic glimpse of him. Then you got to know his name and he yours. You were friends. You let him sit in your excavator when he came home from school. He loved it... but he didn't love you.
Three weeks later and the job was done. You had to leave with a broken heart. The load was heavy. This was not a crush... this was the real deal. You didn't want to bed him. He was too young and too beautiful for that. You just wanted him to love you. But nine year old boys do not fall in love with young men ten years older than them. Do they? You'd better believe they do! But it was not Eddie Rowson who fell in love with you... it was a boy who lived almost on your own doorstep. And so, while you were bearing the heavy load of unrequited love that Eddie Rowson had placed on your shoulders, you met Louis Shenton.
***********************
The love bit requited. It was the winter of 1958. You were nineteen years old when first you met Louis Shenton! Well, that's not quite true. You'd met him a number of times previously. It was just that he'd never registered on your love radar before.
You were repairing your car in the garage at the rear of your parent's house. You were an excavator driver and you earned good money... therefore you had a good car. It was on hire purchase (surety supplied by your dad because you were too young to take out hire purchase without a Guarantor), but you could easily afford the payments. Working overtime as an excavator driver is fun stuff. So you earned lots of money and bought yourself a Ford V8 Pilot. Black it was. Black and chrome, and it looked the bee's knees when it was polished and gleaming. A real puller! No... not that sort! LOL.
You loved pulling things to pieces and putting them back together again. That's how you learnt things. No tutors... too much like bloody teachers. The engine was running not quite right? You stripped the carburetor down and blew it out and put it back together again with new seals. Brrrooom! Brrrooom! Brilliant. Mistiming? You had more electric shocks than boys you fell in love with because you pulled off leads to the spark plugs because that was the easiest way of discovering which plug was down. And you could take off the cylinder head of that Ford V8 Pilot and grind in the valves and decoke it and polish up the piston heads and replace everything in one weekend.
Then, one day, in the winter of 1958, you silly old bugger, you gone and got yourself a helper. In fact your helper turned up not long after your heart was broken by the beautiful nine year old Eddie Rowson.
Louis Shenton sort of crept up on you. You lived in a row of semi-detached with your parents that were back to back with another row of semi-detached houses and there was a communal backs between the houses. Louis was nine years old and was sort of ordinary. He most certainly didn't have the looks of the beautiful Eddie Rowson. He was like a million other boys his age... brown hair and brown eyes and just a normal looker. And for once in your life you didn't fall head over heels in love with a boy. But he was a lovely kid and always helpful to have around when you were scrawling under your car and needed a spanner or a pair of pliers or a hammer or whatever. So, whenever what needed to be done was done and dusted, you rewarded Louis by taking him for a spin in your gleaming car. He loved it! His parents and yours were well aware that Louis was your helper. They had no problems with the situation. Why should they? He was a kid helping out, so you had nothing to hide. You weren't in love with him and at his tender age of nine you most certainly had no interest in getting inside his pants.
So life went on. And contrary to what people think about blokes who love boys, they do have other interests. You were no different than your mates who you went drinking and dancing with at weekends. And little Louis became known to your mates. Yes, Don Colclough was normal, and your weekends were... Saturday Night and I Just got Paid. You wild young thing you! LOL.
So you got on with life... driving your excavator; mending your car; dancing and drinking on a Saturday nights. And always in the background was little Louis to help out whenever you were repairing, maintaining, or polishing and cleaning your Ford V8 Pilot. But, and this was the strange thing... you weren't interested in Louis's social life or his mates and he wasn't the slightest bit interested in yours. You had your own thing and it was all to do with your car. Don and Louis and the V8 Pilot. That's how the people around both of you saw things. That's how You saw things.
Until, that is, when you were twenty and Louis was ten and he suddenly stopped appearing to help you. Two weeks went by and you didn't see him. You were puzzled. In fact you missed him. Then, when you were messing about in the garage one late Thursday night at about half past nine with the lights on and the door closed and you had a paraffin heater on because it was cold, there was a knock on the garage door, and when you opened it, it was Luis's dad. You knew by his face that something was wrong when you asked him to step inside, and when he said, "Hi Don. Louis is in hospital. He's been asking if you'll go and see him."
You stared at him and said, "Louis in hospital! What's wrong with him? I wondered why I hadn't seen him for a bit. Is he okay?"
He nodded. "He's getting better, but we nearly lost him. He's had double pneumonia."
You knew nothing about illnesses and you said, "Double pneumonia! That's serious isn't it! Is he going to be alright?"
Again he nodded. "Yes, he is now. He's asked if you'll go and visit him."
You stared at his dad. "Why would he want to see me in hospital now he's okay?"
His dad sort of smiled and said, "You're like a big brother to him. All we ever hear in our house is Don this and Don that. I know you're busy working, but visiting is Saturday afternoons two until four. That's if you're not working this weekend."
You shook your head. "No, just Saturday morning. I'm doing maintenance Saturday morning... you know, greasing up and that sort of stuff... ready for next week. Yes, I can make it Saturday afternoon. Can I give you a lift to the hospital? You can show me where to go. I'll get him some grapes and stuff."
"That will be lovely. Thanks Don. We'll be seeing him tomorrow. I'll tell him you're coming. That will buck him up." Then he sort of laughed. "He told me off tonight for not telling you earlier. He said you'd be worried about him."
You sort of laughed. "I am now you've told me. I just thought he was busy doing other things. Not for a moment did I think he was ill. I would have sent him some fruit or something if I'd known. Tell him I'll see him Saturday and that it's a pain in the backside having to scrawl out from under the car when I want something. Will half-past-one be okay?"
"That will fine Don. It's only fifteen minutes by car. It takes us an hour and more by bus. That's why I'm late now. Visiting ended at eight and we've only just got back. See you at half past one on Saturday."
"Okay Mr Shenton. See you then."
And so Mr Shenton left and you closed the door behind him to keep out the cold. Then you packed up working on the car and cleaned your hands with Swarfega and went and had a bath. And then you told your own mother and father that little Louis was in hospital and that he'd had double pneumonia."
Your mother asked, "Didn't you know?"
You shook your head. "No. Why should I know? He's just a kid who helps me out when I'm working on the car. Why should I know unless somebody tells me? You should have told me if you knew he was poorly. I would have sent him some fruit or something. His dad's just been and asked if I want to go and see him Saturday afternoon. I've told them I will and I'll take them at the same time. Apparently it takes an hour on the bus. And I'll take them on Sunday if I've sobered up. I'll be out with the lads Saturday night. We're going to that new club that's just opened in town."
And because of the way you acted when little Louis was ill and because of your ignorance, little did you know it then Don, but that became the key to everything you and Louis were to become in the future. You weren't hiding anything Don, and Louis's parents and yours knew it. That's when they accepted you and little Louis as being just friends and nothing more. Yes, the friendship grew, but to them it was just a very special friendship between two people even though there was ten years difference in your ages.
***********************
Saturday afternoon. You arrived at the hospital and walked along the old corridors of the old hospital that smelled of disinfectant and to the ward where little Louis was. And that, Don, was when you first fell in love with your little Louis. All this while, Don, the little boy you'd been treating as an ordinary kid had been under your very nose. But you always were a bit thick, Don. Head over heels love and crushes was your normal stuff. It had never crept up on you before and wormed its way inside you without you even knowing, and it took one look at Louis's pale little face and his sunken eyes before you realized how beautiful and precious he was to you... and the fact that he had tears in his eyes when he saw you. That's when you had tears in your own eyes that you tried to hide by pretending that you were grinning when you gave him the bunch of grapes and the whole pineapple you'd bought for him. That's when Louis smiled at you and the song That Certain Smile had real meaning to you. You'd smooched to it lots of times with girls on the dance floor, but only when you looked into little Louis's eyes and saw the affection he had for you did it hit home big style. You didn't know it then Don, you old softy, but This would have been more suitable for you and Louis. ;)
***********************
A week later and Louis was out of hospital and recovering at home. You visited him at home even though he was still bedridden because it was winter and he needed to be kept warm. In fact, it was good that it was wintertime because you knocked off early from work because it went dark early. So you knocked off work, had a bath and got changed because you were going to have a game of cribbage with the lads at the pub and then went and saw little Louis in his bedroom before you did. And it was during those visits that little things began to happen. That's when you first held hands. Just a brief holding of hands before you left him at first. Then you held hands when you first arrived and before you left. Then, surprise, surprise, Don, Louis kissed your fingers and grinned at you when you held hands before you left. But the dastardly love that had stolen up on you wasn't really consummated until Louis was well again and spending some evenings and every weekend with you.
You remember that first kiss, don't you Don! For a couple of weeks your togetherness was blossoming into something else. It was love, Don. It does that to you. Well, real love does. Especially it does when you part-exchanged your Ford V8 Pilot for a two year old, two tone, blue and cream Ford Zephyr Zodiac Mk1 with bench seats that would do 80 MPH! But it was the bench seats that were the important part... the part when you were inside your locked garage and you and Louis were listening to 1950's music on the radio and you were leaning back against the driver's door and Louis was leaning with his back into you along the bench seat and he looked up at you and grinned when Peggy Lee began to sing Mr Wonderful, and he said, "You're mine."
Then you looked down into his beautiful brown eyes and grinned back at him, and said, "And you're My Special Angel."
His eyes were still staring into your own blue eyes when he asked, "Am I really?"
You nodded and kissed his forehead. He lifted his head up a bit further. So you kissed his cute nose. Then he really lifted his head up and his eyes were closed when he offered his lips to you. So you kissed him. It was not one of those sexy passionate ones, it was a gentle lip kiss that means two people love one another. And then it was done and Louis leaned back into you and your arm that was wrapped around his shoulder and chest drew him closer to you and you kissed his hair. That's when he placed his hand over yours and drew it up to his lips and kept it there while he kissed your fingers while you listened to the music. Then, when Ray Conniff singers began to sing Ma, He's Making Eyes At Me, you both started giggling until you told him, "You'd better bugger off home now. I'm meeting the lads down the pub."
So he did bugger off home and you did meet the lads down the pub. But your fate was sealed, Don. Sealed with a kiss. LOL.
***********************
And so, Don, now you both knew you loved each other, things became almost normal between you, but those special moments when you both sat in the car in your locked garage became very precious to both of you, precious moments that remained platonic for the next two years until Louis was twelve years old. Then it changed, didn't it Don?! And it wasn't you who changed it, was it Don?!
But a lot was to happen in those two years before things changed. For a start, you went and got yourself a girlfriend. Hah hah. You silly old softy you! But you weren't soft if anybody messed with the relationship between you and your Special Angel!
Life was good. You earned lots of brass; you had a great car; you enjoyed your nights out with the lads; you had a dame to take out whenever you had enough spare time to take her out... and you had a wonderful and very ordinary boy who you loved... and more important... a wonderful and very ordinary boy who loved you. Yes. Life was good. Until...
"What is with you and that boy Louis?" Asked your dame who you took out lots of times.
Being a bit of a dummy, Don, you couldn't quite understand what she was getting at, so you asked her, "What do you mean? He's just a kid who's helped me out with the car for a couple of years. He's been helping me since he was nine years old. He loves cars. He'll probably finish up as a mechanic one day."
She gave you a strange look and said, "But you're too old to be knocking about with little kids."
You gave her a strange look. "Knocking about with little kids! What do you mean?! He just helps me out with the bloody car and we're sort of buddies. I go out with the lads and I've been dating you for ages, so what do you mean?"
She sort of shrugged her shoulders and then said, "But blokes your age don't knock about with little kids unless..."
You gave her a hard stare. "Unless what! What are you getting at?!"
Again she sort of shrugged her shoulders and then she said, "You know. Men and boys and that sort of stuff."
Then, Don, you thickie, it kicked in what she meant and because you could honestly say it, you said, "You don't think it's like that with me and Louis... do you?! I don't mess with little boys! Fuck you! Sod yourself off and take your bloody dirty mind with you!"
And so, Don, it was a case of go away good-lookin'-dame because little Louis was This. And off she went up the road with her non-existent tail between her legs to be replaced by someone who had a proper tail between his legs. No contest, eh! The dame or your little Louis. LOL.
(Oh dear, Don, it was at this point of reading your story that I couldn't stop chuckling. You thickie, you! But I reckon you made the right choice... and I reckon our readers will agree with me. LOL.)
***********************
So, Don, and I suppose we'd better tell our readers this stuff or they'll wonder what went on.
***********************
Life went on for you and little Louis, who, by this time was a growing boy and his damned hormones were kicking in. Your evenings or wherever you spent your special cuddling time sort of progressed from just simple kisses to him making sure when he was leaning against you on your now four year old, two tone, blue and cream Ford Zephyr Zodiac Mk1 with bench seats that would do 80 MPH, to him making sure that you were warming your hands under his shirt on his little tummy when you shared those special little kisses. It was beginning to slowly dawn on you, but your little Louis was way ahead of you Don. LOL. He was thinking... Finger out (or in) Don! But you, because Louis had been your special little man for almost three years now and you were reluctant to cross the line between platonic and the other, you told yourself... Donny be Good! LOL.
Oh dear, Don. Even though you were now almost twenty-three, you still didn't know how little boys work. Hah hah. Little Louis was thinking Something like This!
But we'll leave our readers to digest all this stuff and tell them what happened in the next part. I'm sure they can't wait to see what sort of a balls up you made of it. But we'll leave them with this suggestive video. PMSL.
To be continued.
You can find my other stories on Nifty here. If you wish to comment on this or any of my other stories, just drop me a line to john.thestoryteller@gmail.com Genuine comments will be appreciated. All flames will be extinguished in the trash bin.