Now Am I In Arden
A story by Ivor Sukwell and Kyle McKenzie. A story about a boy and a man with all that such entails. The setting is modern and based around the theatre. Not your thing? Sorry about that, we're sure you'll find something that is. Whatever your choice, please remember Nifty needs your donations.
Now Am I In Arden
Chapter seven
`It has been a stormy few months for Jacob Wills, starring in the disaster plagued 'Siege of Troy' and splitting from his long term agent Sandy Crow, but if the young actor is bruised by the experience he is hiding it well.
Meeting him at a fancy burger bar in London's South Bank he looks relaxed and tanned, greeting me with a friendly handshake before ordering a double burger and bucket sized soft drink. Dressed casually in skinny jeans and a hooded sweatshirt he looks like the hordes of other boys who skateboard and mooch around this part of London, albeit one whose elfin face and piercing green eyes make him good looking enough to front a modelling campaign. Unexpectedly unchaperoned, Mum is shopping the West End as we talk, he shrugs off my surprise.
"She trusts me, Mum doesn't want to be one of those stage school Mums who's always interfering."
It's not the only unexpected thing about Wills, who, surprisingly for such a famous young actor does not actually attend a stage school.
"We looked at some but I wanted to stay with my mates." We talk a little about school, he likes drama and English and hates maths, but I can hold out no longer and ask him what it was like to be in the middle of the disaster which was the 'Siege of Troy'.
"You want the gossip ask Kasper!" He laughs, casually dropping the name of his co-star Kasper Gundarson, the Norwegian-American superstar who has not been shy about dishing the dirt on the shambolic nature of the production. The touching chemistry between the two was one of the few bright spots in a film which seemed longer than the Trojan War itself and oscillated wildly between accurate period piece and mega-budget action movie. The two bounced off each other well, Achilles framing their relationship as brotherly and not realising the depth of Patroclus' idolising love for him until it is too late, and I suggest the two are the only ones to emerge with any credit from the mess.
"I think that's harsh, doing the fight scenes was cool and like, the sets and make-up were amazing and costumes really good. I've actually still got some of mine."
Does he often dress like an Ancient Greek warrior?
"Nah, I'm just planning for Halloween! Or maybe I'll surprise a friend sometime."
I ask him if Kasper was telling the truth when he said he only took the part because he was high and thought they were making a film about the Vietnam War until he arrived on set, and he laughs harder. "Kasper likes to joke, but he's serious on set. He's a good guy, I learnt a lot working with him. He's going to teach me to surf if I come to California."
Was it Kasper who convinced him to split with the London based Sandy Crow? After all he was picked up by the Norwegian's own LA based agent a few weeks later.
"We chatted about it, but me and Sandy just wanted different things." He smiles evasively as I ask him if it was amicable, (rumour has it he received a substantial settlement), and moves the conversation on, "but that sort of stuff I decide with Mum. Mr Williams helps as well, he always gives me good advice." Richard Williams is the uncompromising stage director, who oversaw his run in As You Like It at The Globe, and I tell him I'm surprised that a man with such a fearsome reputation is prepared to spare the time to give a young actor career advice.
"Richard is actually cool when you get to know him, like he works you hard but the final performance is always amazing. He just really loves Shakespeare and wants the best." He nods when I ask him if that's what convinced him to return to the theatre, but smiles when I suggest stage parts won't satisfy an LA based talent agency for long.
"Kasper makes like $20 million a movie so they don't need me to be in everything possible. They check in with me, but it's more about doing good stuff now which helps me do good stuff in five years time." Does that include a part in renowned Italian Director Franco Marteli's much anticipated adaption of Romeo & Juliet which is rumoured to have two male leads?
"No spoilers from me!" The puckish grin is still there and I decide Jacob Wills is doing just fine.'
Extract from interview with Jacob Wills, Observer on Sunday.
Brat was in my lounge, a Friday evening and, as he always was now, he was here for the weekend. And, as he also always was when he was here, his clothes were not on him. He knew I loved his naked body and he loved letting me see his naked body. No shame, no embarrassment, and, even nothing sexual. No, really. Sex there was, but he wasn't naked for that reason, he was naked because we both liked him being that way.
I'd worked the Brat since he came to me, made him cry more than once, but they were always tears of frustration, frustration that he couldn't get something right as he knew he should be able to get it right.
"The words, Brat," I said time and time again, "Everything is in the words. All you have to do is look inside yourself and see where those words come from"
All he had to do? Thousands of semi-actors spend their lives trying to do that and never succeed.
I smiled at him and prepared to go again.
He was dressed, he always stayed dressed at the start even when I got naked, and I knew this was a costume for him just as my nakedness was a costume for me. Being undressed allowed me to be the uninhibited boy who lived for sex I wanted to be, and didn't really dare be when I wasn't around him.
"What words would my Lord have his Brat speak?" I knew this sort of language was part of the game for him, allowing us to say things we wouldn't normally dare to, and I opened my legs to show off everything.
"Only nine beats in that line," I sighed in mock exasperation. "Nine sometimes, even eight now and again, eleven sometimes, but always aim for ten,"
This was a game we played, a game that wasn't just a game. We tried to talk always in iambic pentameters, the metre of Shakespeare, and also, as it just so happens, the natural metre of normal, everyday speech.
"Always would I have you speak words of love," I grinned at him. Friday evenings were for only a little work, they were really for a man and his boy to enjoy being together with a little work thrown in, just to keep up the pretence, sort of thing.
"What think you of this man of Italy, who would have thee in a work he would make?"
"The idea doth please me much!" I lounged back, a leg thrown over the chair so he could admire my thigh.
"He would have me play young Romeo, while a most comely youth my age doth play fair Juliet! I think together our music would be most sweet." The part, which I had been offered after a final audition in Milan did indeed intrigue me. Franco Marteli was a huge name, famous for his ground breaking films, and he had decided to make Romeo and Juliet as a love story between two teenage boys. It was already controversial, but I knew it would a great film to be part of.
"Then perchance thou should a spliff roll, and sack also pour, and sit upon my knee, that this we may talk of, and see if it doth fit thy will and skill, offence give not."
Not sack, but Canasta, a sherry he had come to enjoy, easy to drink and less violent in its effects than vodka.
I giggled and poured us both a drink. He had brought a stash of sugary alcho-pops for me but right now he wanted to watch me drink something stronger.
"My Lord's wish is his brat's command," I slipped on to his knee and gave him a kiss so he could taste the alcohol on my lips. Clicking the lighter I took a long drag on the spliff to get it going, before holding that to his mouth as well.
"I love you, Brat," he knew that well enough by now, but he still liked hearing me say it, "And I love the sheer, uninhibited sexuality of you." That I demonstrated by getting and arm round his shoulder and using the other arm to send down a hand to feel a wonderful boy thigh. I'd dropped the iambic pentameters now, they could reappear tomorrow.
"I have chatted with Signor Marteli on the phone and he made it very clear that he has in mind doing a film that is unashamedly gay and that if you're not happy with that he'll understand."
I had no doubt that Brat would be fine with making a film that was overtly gay, but he did have his mother to think of. He was, after all, still fourteen and she'd already closed her eyes for him by letting him be with me.
"Will mum be okay with it?"
"It's not like we're making a porn film," Mum had voiced some concerns when we had talked about the offer with my agent in LA. Mr Marteli had made it clear that his Romeo and Juliet, (or more accurately Julio), were going to get physical with each other.
"You will have to kiss him, kiss him like you mean it, kiss him like you would die for him!" Marteli had told us, Mum had blanched but I had told him it wouldn't be a problem.
"Already they say I corrupt the youth, the pope himself say my film is a blasphemy and we have not shot a single frame! You are ready for that Jacob Wills?" I had smiled and told him I was ready.
"If it's half the film that madman wants it to be, it will make you, Jacob," Mum still hadn't been keen but when the agency also wanted me to do it she left the final decision to me.
"There's more, sweet," I stroked him from knee to groin. "Signor Marteli has had a rethink. It's not R & J anymore. R & J will be the backdrop, the real film will be about two boys falling in love as they do that play together. In Verona, under the direction of a somewhat crazed English director of Shakespeare. You won't just be seen in love, and in bed, I suspect, in a play, but on the streets of Verona itself, outside the play."
I shrugged, "So what? Troy had loads of extras and I did loads of scenes in front of them." I knew it wasn't exactly the same, that pretend sword fighting in front of people was different to getting physical with another boy in front of an audience.
"No, no," I tried to make him understand, "The film Marteli now wants to make is about two boys, two REAL boys, falling in love for REAL. There'll only be snippets and fractions of R & J, just background scene setting. The plot and everything centres not on stage characters, but on two REAL boys."
I was trying to make the Brat understand that he wouldn't be acting a gay boy, for the camera he would have to BE a gay boy.
"I think I can do it," I knew I would need to have to go deep for this character, deeper than I had been before. Live the part both on and off set.
"Oh you can do it. Won't even have to act," I smiled and fondled his wonderful leg. "Question is, do you want to do it? Do you DARE do it? There's going to be thousands of people wondering at the very least, if Jacob Wills," I used his real name to try to underline the point, "Likes boys."
"I've got to do it sometime," and dodged telling him if that meant taking an edgy role, or revealing where my tastes lay, by giving him a lingering kiss.
"You ready to see your Brat with another boy?" I playfully teased him, trying to get the spotlight off me for once.
"I'm ready to see my Brat with another boy, though probably best if I didn't see all of it," I gave him a little peck on his slightly upturned nose, "Though I'm not quite ready to see him actually fall in love with one. Not quite yet, anyway, though I know I'll have to see it happen one day. And give my blessing to it." More thigh needed fondling for a few moments then, and a little cheek kiss to go with that.
I smiled as he kissed me and explored my thighs. He loved those, forever stroking and admiring them, though I couldn't see the attraction.
"So what new ideas do you have for your Brat?" I knew he had been exploring the darker corners of the web, the new world of sexuality I had opened for him making him hungry for more.
"Promise not to be horrified if I tell you?"
I giggled, doubting anything he could think of would be naughtier than the stuff I liked. "You know your Brat, the dirtier the better."
"I want to put him over my knee and spank him hard with a leather strap," I confessed and needed a good drag of spliff after that confession and before the next. "And I want him to fuck me."
I sniggered, taking a long drag on the spliff. "Me doth think your Brat likes your kinky games, and anyway he needs a good spanking due to his Bratty ways." Kissing him deeply I only broke it off when I needed another gulp of my drink.
"But once the fucking is done you must bind your Brat most tightly, so he is neatly trussed for the night ahead." I had tying myself up a few times, intrigued by the bondage vids I had found online, but wanted it done properly.
"Should such be done, my brat, then can there be no going back, for lovers will we be, and share all thoughts, all dreams all hopes together."
Easier to say that in verse, one can hide, just a little, from the truth of it.
"Me doth think we are already so," I kissed him again, deeper this time, as deep as my tongue would go.
"Beat your Brat without mercy, beat him as a Brat should be beaten." I wanted to feel what he was about to do, not have a few pretend taps.
"Then must I play the executioner, so needs must I shall be so costum-ed,"
I pushed him off my lap, went upstairs and stripped, donning only an executioner's mask and finding a suitable leather belt to inflict pain with.
Over my naked knees he settled himself and awaited the pain to come.
Hurting him would somehow, I knew, prove his love for me, though he didn't need to prove that anymore than he already had, but it was more than a symbolic giving of himself. He was going to let me beat him, probably to tears, and trusting me entirely while it happened.
I giggled as he reappeared in the mask, already more than a little stoned, and threw myself theatrically to my knees.
"Mercy please! I am but a poor Brat!" I couldn't keep a straight face but he played along, staying silent while he pulled me to my feet and dumped me over his knee where I struggled to get comfy.
"Insolent whelp," I hammed, "Now shalt thou learn what 'tis to please thy lord," and, when he tried hard not to giggle, I tapped the belt on his upturned bum.
Now I was learning about myself, as much as Brat was learning who he was. Why should I want to punish a wonderful boy? But I did, and I knew I did, and so I struck him and his bum cheeks quivered and clenched, unclenched and quivered again.
So erotic was that sight, I could not have stopped myself from making it happen again, and so I did, and did again and again, some six or more times in all before I paused, now frightened I had gone too far, hit him too hard.
"FUCK! That doth hurt mightily!" I was half laughing at the first whack of the belt but by the fifth I was yelling and telling him to stop.
"Fuck it hurts! FUCK STOP!" He didn't stop, seizing my flayling wrists in one hand and clamping his legs closed to keep me in position before really going to town with the belt.
I howled and howled, but, as much as it hurt, my cock was rock hard, and suddenly a switch was flicked and I wanted not just more but for him to do it really hard.
"HARDER!" I heard myself shout.
He didn't get up, didn't move, his bum now bright red and, god help me, it made me just want to hit again. So I did and I dimly heard him yelling at me to stop, but I wasn't me, I was an executioner and my job was to inflict pain, and pain I inflicted. But not enough. He was demanding more, wanting me to hit him harder and I did, I hit him with as much force as I could muster and he screamed and that scream made me want to hit him again, hurt him again and so I did until my arm ached and his screams were croaks.
I eased him to his feet, now horrified by what I'd done. Tears were pouring from his eyes but, incredibly, unbelievably, he was also grinning.
"You hurt me, you cunt," he grinned at me, "You fucking hurt me. Made me cry, you bastard. You lovely fucking bastard."
He looked horrified, clearly terrified by what had happened, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him to reassure him I was ok.
"Fucking loved it," I told him, unbelievably horny and high on adrenalin from what had happened and I kissed him more as tears ran down my face.
"You're spanking me every weekend from now, spanking me cos I'm your Brat." His hands were trembling as he embraced me, and I kissed him more not wanting him to be scared.
The boy was right. He was my Brat and he loved me as much as I loved him and I loved him again even more because he did.
"Now you," I said and found the anal lube I'd got from an online store because I hoped one day he'd use it. "Here and now. I don't know how to do it, but get that glorious bit of you inside me and keep it there till it spurts. Here now, over the arm of the sofa or something." The bed was for love, here was for the dirty, sexual side of love.
I smirked and squeezed a good dose of lube into my palm.
"How you want me to pop your cherry? Doggy?" I got off saying dirty sexual things around him, and I knew he now liked a boy who could be dirty as well as cuddly.
"I don't know," I said truthfully, "The way you want to do it is good for me."
I showed him how to get on all fours with his arse up, which was the easiest position I could think of for me to fuck him.
In truth it was also so he couldn't see my nerves, this would be the first time I actually fucked someone and I wanted to do it right.
His crack was smooth now, totally smooth, and before I started I pushed my face between those cheeks and kissed his hole until it let my tongue inside. He moaned in pleasure and I sat down and gasped as my burning backside was pushed against the floor. It hurt, but somehow knowing I couldn't sit comfortably because he had whipped me was incredibly exciting, and I buried my face deeper as I rimmed his hole.
"Oh shit!" I gasped as his tongue went to work, and then utterly inappropriately appropriate, "No, not shit. Last thing we need now is shit."
That made him giggle and it felt amazing, him giggling with his tongue poking inside me.
"Show me what a boy's cock is for," I gasped after he had eaten me for what seemed like forever.
I giggled and replaced the tongue with first one finger, then two as I worked lube inside him.
He was tight, like mega tight, and I squirted more lube on my cock before rubbing it up and down over his hole.
"Ready Mr Williams?" I sniggered, savouring being so dirty.
"And waiting," I moaned. I so wanted him inside me, wanted that so much.
"I want to be yours, just like you are mine," I tried to explain, but perhaps all I really wanted was for a boy to fuck me.
I moaned and rubbed my cock harder against his hole and suddenly, maybe because of all the lube and spit or maybe because he wanted it so much, it slipped inside him.
His body went rigid, despite the fact it was just the head of my cock, and his hole clamped tight, making my cock feel amazing. After an age it relaxed a fraction, drawing me inside, and I was happy to be sucked in until my thighs were pressed against his buttocks.
Having a prostate examination by a finger of an uncaring doctor hurts. Having your prostate examined by the cock of a fourteen year old boy you're in love with hurts even more. Until you realise that it is the cock of a fourteen year old boy you are in love with and not an uncaring doctor's finger, and then, when that realisation overcomes the initial pain, it doesn't hurt any more.
It's the exact and complete opposite of hurt. You are joined with the boy you love, and what could ever be better than that?
"Ride me cowboy," I John Wayned as he began to dare to move inside me.
I sniggered and slowly drew back, withdrawing my cock millimetre by millimetre. He was so tight, tighter than my bum had been the first time I tried to get a finger inside it, and I didn't want to hurt him. Not hurt him, but definitely fuck him, and I couldn't resist pushing it back in quicker, then pulling back quicker still.
I still wasn't going fast, like the pace of a leisurely wank, but I was picking up the pace with each stroke.
"There's Indians up in them there hills," I quipped as he began to fuck me slowly, "Guess if you don't kick this old hoss into action, then they gonna catch us."
Is it possible to make jokes while you're being fucked? Must be. I did.
I didn't really understand what he was talking about, a lot of his references went over my head, but I could feel that he was enjoying the fucking as I started to pump in and out quickly.
I wasn't so worried about his feelings now, I wanted him to enjoy it, but I was also horny as fuck and in need of release. And his hole was hot, warm and wet and so inviting that I couldn't stop myself.
Slowly it dawned on me that fucking isn't a one-man, or boy, show. It takes two to tango and it takes two to fuck. I started pushing back into him as he pushed into me, and that seemed to make his cock go deeper in, and that I liked. So I pushed harder and he pushed harder, and we weren't trotting any more, we were starting to gallop.
I cried out as he pushed his hips back hard, rewarding him with a harder thrust inside. I was really going for it now, thrusting in and out as sweat ran down my forehead, grunting and squealing as I did so.
My cock was rock hard now, harder than it had ever been and I knew I wouldn't be able to last much longer.
"Going to cum," I warned him, "want it in your arse?"
"Oh please," I groaned. I didn't want him to pull out, to spoil things, I wanted this boy seed in me. "Spunk in me," I moaned, "Spunk inside me."
I cried out and with a hard thrust got my cock as far in him as possible. My balls tingled, felt like they were being electrocuted then my cock exploded inside him as I seemed to expel all the fluid in my body into his arse.
"FUCK!" My eyes were screwed close and the feeling and flow seemed to go on forever and when it was finally over I lay on top of his back panting for breath.
When air once more entered lungs and heads cleared from the dizzy heights they had ascended to, some cleaning up was necessary. I had to clean my arse and he his cock and sweat had to be washed from the body of a man and the body of his boy.
In the shower two wet bodies entwined together, two wet mouths found a way to kiss and he showed me how to wank a cock properly, getting his mouth down only just in time.
Curled up then on the sofa, dry and warm and naked for each other we simply lived in silence for a while before Brat, thoughtfully, asked if it was time for another spliff.
My hair was still wet as I rolled us a fresh spliff, my body tired from what had just happened.
I had caught a glimpse of my bum in the bathroom mirror and had gasped when I saw it was bright red and I knew sitting would be painful for at least the next day or two. But he had marked me as his Brat and somehow that made me feel not just excited but safe with him, and I knew I would want his strap more in future.
"You made a promise," I told him as I took a drag on the spliff and passed it over.
"Made more than one," I agreed, taking the spliff. "Which one do you have in mind?"
"You tying me up, got to do it properly." For once I looked embarrassed, wondering if he thought I was weird for wanting to try this.
"Ah, that one." I thought I knew why he wanted that, to show me beyond all reasonable and unreasonable doubt that he was mine and that he trusted me completely and utterly.
"Would it be breaking that promise if it were delayed for a week?" I asked, reaching for my laptop from the floor beside the sofa. "Would it be better if we searched the contents of an interesting shop or two and made purchase of the type of toys we may require?"
I looked at him, asking his permission before firing up the laptop.
"Sure," I couldn't hide the disappointment from my voice. Being fourteen I wanted to try everything now, immediately and as much as possible.
Still I was curious to see what website he had been looking at.
"Be more fun for you if we had the proper stuff, wouldn't it?" He was clearly disappointed at the prospect of delay and the last thing I wanted was to disappoint him.
I found the shop I had got the lube from and went to the section named 'Toys for men and boys'. "See if there's anything in there that'd be suitable," I suggested, "I believe they have things for spanking boys as well, if you really want that to happen again."
"Fuck!" My disappointment evaporated as I saw where he had been shopping. It was like a warehouse containing all my dirty teenage fantasies!
"What about this?" I clicked on a picture of a body harness, wrist and ankle cuffs and matching collar all in black leather with shiny metal studs.
"Interesting," I agreed, "And I suppose it does leave some bits of boy uncovered at least." He sniggered and I giggled. "I ask only that at all times, cock, thighs and nipples must be available for attention."
He sniggered, he knew how much I adored his thighs and worshipped his cock. "Flip through," I suggested, "Pop what takes your fancy into 'Wish List' and let's go from there."
I giggled and went through the website, selecting and unselecting stuff as I found even more exciting things we could play with.
"What about mouth?" I had found a section called 'gags' which made my cock very hard indeed.
"I thought that was for cock." I tried to sound innocent and surprised, just for the laugh of it.
"Oh you can take it out whenever you need sucking," the joke went completely over my head as I stared fixedly at the screen. A red ball-gag and one like a panel which completely covered your mouth went on the list.
"Shit look at this!" I was in heaven, finding ever more kinky stuff and showed him what at first glance looked like a black pillow case. The next photo showed it over a model's head, a string at the opening pulled snug to his neck. 'Premium blackout hood for when your boy needs to be kept in the dark about what is waiting for him.' My cock twitched a little as I imagined him putting that on me before we started having fun.
"You, my wonderful Jacob Brat, are a magnificently filthy minded boy!" Somehow, I had the idea that he'd take that as the biggest compliment I'd ever given him!
"But, whilst you are all in the dark, waiting for the worst, or best, to happen, I am whipless in Gaza - Milton, I reckoned, he hadn't yet come across - find me what you wish to be beaten with."
I giggled and clicked on the 'spanking' tab and gasped.
"Shit, that would be hot as fuck." An old fashioned school cane was displayed, and I groaned at the thought. "Bet you reckon all modern boys should get that like you did back in your day." I knew I was telling him what I wanted to hear, but I was enjoying the dirty kinky talk.
"Alas," I said, face straight, "Such boy delights were by then confined to the public schools alone. Such pleasures were forbidden to ordinary state school boys. But," I said meaning it, "That would hurt like fucking hell and leave marks around for a week or more."
"So?" I dared him to say I couldn't take it, wanting to prove him wrong. "Mum won't see, I promise."
"She'd better not! That, I suspect, would come under the heading of molestation as far as she is concerned."
"Might think I need it for being a cheeky sod!" I knew there was no way Mum would actually take that view, but I wanted him to buy the cane and use it on me so much, I was desperate to convince him.
"Can we get some of this?" I clicked on the 'essentials' tab and added some bondage rope and tape to the list. Both were marked as being designed to reduce marks and not harm the skin so I hoped that would persuade him.
"You should choose something," I wanted him to join in the game, for it to be our thing rather than just mine.
"You left condoms out of the essentials, I notice," I remarked and turned back to the spanking section. "I quite like the look of this." I enlarged a picture of a crop, the head heart shaped. 'Show your boy you love him' the blurb said. It also said 'Two sided. One for gentle loving thoughts and one for when you really mean it.'
"The cane for when you're here for holidays, perhaps, the crop for weekends?"
I giggled, "Yeah ok, or if I'm really naughty." I knew I was pressing him to do something he didn't think was good for me but as a teenager I was used to wheedling and moaning until I got my way.
"Think we need this as well," I clicked on an item called 'beginner's butt plug' which was captioned 'small enough for extended wear for when your boy needs his hole loosening up for the night ahead.' It was a tacit hint at what I wanted to happen soon. Mr Williams was no longer a virgin and I was keen to shed my virginity as well.
"I believe you may be right, Jacob Brat," and his hint deserved the kiss he got. "Bookmark what you want us to buy and we'll do that tomorrow." Doing it now would mean disentangling his flesh from mine, and I had no wish for that to happen.
"Something else I should tell you, Jacob Brat," I said, "But first, this."
I slipped the ring off the finger he was wearing it on and slid it on his 'engagement finger' instead.
He didn't say `No, that is not what I meant, that is not what I meant at all,' so either he didn't understand the significance or, far less likely, he accepted it.
"Does that mean..." I had a vague idea that if you wore a ring on that finger you were agreeing to marry them.
I couldn't look at him. I liked Mr Williams, thought I loved him, but the idea of 'forever' when you're fourteen is terrifying and I wasn't sure what to say.
"Does it mean you want me to marry you?" I asked, not able to look at him.
"Bit over the top," I smiled oh, so softly, "Let's say that, for now anyway, it means I want you as my boy until you find something better."
My heart slowed down from its manic beating. "I thought I was your Brat already?" I teased him a bit, trying to cover how shocked I had been.
"You are, have been since I first saw you, I suppose." how difficult is it to say what you really mean? "Let's say, that means," I pointed at his finger, "That for me, you are the one and only Brat and there will never be another. Permanent for me, temporary arrangement for you?" And that with a smile to try to say that I knew he was a boy of fourteen, and when he was a boy of fifteen or sixteen he'd almost certainly want a different arrangement. And why shouldn't he? He was a boy and boys, so I believe, grow up and change.
I smiled shyly, a bit embarrassed but pleased none the less. "ok cool, I'm your Brat I mean Boy until you decide I'm not anymore."
"Stay Brat," I grinned, heart pounding that he'd not rejected me, "And, for me, you will always be my Brat. But, whilst I will ever only have one Brat, you, being the Brat that you are, will want more than I can offer. The world is full of boys, and I'm sure that, in your own bed at nights, you dream naughty dreams of at least some of them."
A wrapped up way of telling him I knew he was a sex-obsessed boy and needed more, and younger, cocks than mine to satisfy his needs and urges.
I smiled, nodding my head.
"Yeah sometimes I jerk off over other men and lads. Are you mad? Like I'm just horny all the time!" I threw in the second comment knowing he would like it, wanting to charm him a bit to get over the disappointment that I thought about other men and boys.
I wanked at least two times a day, usually more, but no more amount of jerking my cock seemed to calm me down.
"Dream of as many boys as you can," I stroked his unbelievably wonderful thigh again, "Even of girls if they sneak in from time to time." What I was saying to him, telling him, was not to be like I had been since I was just a year older than he, and run from those dreams and thoughts. "Do more than dream if the chance arises. But," I tried to turn serious into humour, "If any dreams of men turn into reality, then we'd better add condoms to that wish list."
"Ummmm, I sucked off Kasper on set," I admitted. "We didn't use anything, is that bad?" My heart was beating fast, would he be mad about it? It had weighed on my mind since I had got back as it felt like I had 'cheated' on him somehow.
Of course he hadn't been in the same country as me at that point, and our relationship had only really got going since I got back, but I still felt guilty about it.
"Bad if you didn't enjoy it," I reassured him; I didn't own him, though dearly would I have loved to, "And, as far as I have been able to make out, it's my understanding that a condom is not necessary for oral appreciation, and would, I'm bloody certain, ruin the experience."
He sniggered.
"Was it okay, though?" I wondered if Kasper, being from a partly American background, had suffered from penile mutilation. "I mean, was he circumcised, and did that make a difference if he was?" Kasper's father was Norwegian, Kasper, though he lived mostly in California, considered himself Norwegian, but his mother was from the Mid-West, where he had been born, and from the new to me places on the Web that Brat had led me to, I had an understanding that there is nowhere in the world where foreskins are more fervently chopped off than in the American Mid-West.
"I did enjoy it," I smiled, pleased he wasn't angry. "We just smoked a lot of weed and I ended up sucking him in his trailer. It was ok, he doesn't have a foreskin though, which is weird."
"I'm so glad that you do!" I moved from thigh to soft, temporarily worn out boy cock, and softly played with the tiny bit in question. "I think this wee bit of skin is able to provide so much pleasure. And adds enormously to the view as well."
I moaned as he twiddled my foreskin, screwing my eyes closed as he pulled my cock gently away from my body by the bit of skin.
"Fuck that's good," I moaned into his neck, enjoying the feeling of his hands on my body.
"What a piece of work is a boy," I relied, as always, on Will to provide the right words, and simply enjoyed the feel of Brat as he allowed me to enjoy and appreciate him.
He didn't rise to hardness, either he wasn't yet able to, or he knew hardness wasn't needed, and I discovered the up till then unknown delight that a boy's soft cock can give.
Not sex, nowhere near sex, just pure enjoyment and content and all contained in some three or so soft and pliable inches of his beautiful body.
I groaned as he slowly fondled my soft cock. He was just enjoying the feel of its entire, flaccid, length contained within his fist and he gave me a lingering kiss to show me how much he was enjoying it.
I was beginning to understand the depths of my boy's soul, that, whether he understood it or not, sex was his driving force. Yes, I know sex drives any adolescent boy, even I am not so stupid as to not know that, but for Jacob Brat it was more than for other boys. Perhaps not all other boys, but certainly for the majority.
Brat was not complete, not whole, not himself, without sex. Sex permeated his every waking thought, and probably his sleeping ones as well. That was why, when he played a part, he had, somehow, even inappropriately, to give that part a sexual overtone. He needed. not simply lots of sex, but to be sexy, to be seen as being sexy, to be appreciated for his sexual nature, because, if he wasn't, then he was lying to himself, and his problem was that he already knew that and didn't know how to cope with that. Why should he? He was fourteen.
Those thoughts I said to him as I played with his vital part. Even now, I was trying to lead him into understanding and realising his talent, and, much more difficult, what it was and where it sprung from.
"You think I should try and make stuff less sexy?" Mum hadn't been pleased with Puck the first time she saw it, saying I was too young to be in things like that.
Problem was, doing stuff like that just seemed to come naturally and it took a conscious effort to keep that stuff out of my performances.
"NO, no, never that! If you tried to do that the result would be a disaster. Like Troy. No, I any character you play must also be you, or part of you. Look for whatever there is that is sexual in that character and see if you can find an echo of that in yourself. When you find it, then that's what you use. And," I fondled his softness, "Doesn't always have to end in spunking, does it."
I giggled, "Spunking is fun sometimes though." He fondled me more but after the huge spunking I had deposited in his arse my cock remained tired and soft.
"Think this new film will need me to start out shy but end up finding some real sexiness." I was already getting the ghost of an idea how I would play the character in the next film.
"That," I said firmly, "Must be left for Signor Marteli to decide. Don't know yet exactly what he has in mind, do we? It might," being a little hopeful, I thought, "Even be something quite good. For a film, that is."