Date: Tue, 24 Aug 2010 13:01:56 +0000
From: Josh Long <joshcock@hotmail.com>
Subject: Rob Boibeder part 3

That was the dream, but even as he was dreaming it, Boibeder knew reality
didn't work like that; and when he woke he knew with total certainty, that
if he did what he'd done in his dream, he'd lose the boy for good.

End of chapter 2

He did wake early, he did shower and shave and he did look, no stare, at
the sleeping boy, devouring him with his eyes.

Ash was beautiful; not because he was amazingly good looking -- he wasn't;
he was just a boy, a slender, well formed boy in his early adolescence, and
boys like that were all, as far as Boibeder was concerned, beautiful. They
made him go all soft inside and all hard somewhere else.

He so wanted to lift the duvet, peer underneath it, admire the youthful
nakedness; the boy might already have his morning glory in full bloom, and
Boibeder so desperately wanted to see that, admire the boy's tube of
delight. He didn't; he stared for a few more seconds, and then left the
cabin, going outside for a morning cigarette.

`Let the boy wake,' he thought to himself, `don't put too much pressure on
him. There's no rush. Let him have his morning wank without me around. Let
him just be a boy.'

Part of him wanted to rush back, catch the boy doing what boys do when they
wake, but he restrained himself, and lit a second cigarette so the boy
would have time; time to do what was necessary and time to get up, get
dressed without feeling he had to hide himself from Boibeder's greedy eyes.

Ash hadn't wanked, hadn't got up and dressed; Ash was still in bed, eyes
closed when Boibeder returned.

His eyes opened when Boibeder closed the cabin door and Boibeder could see
the boy trying to focus, take in his surroundings, as he came out of sleep.

A little smile flicked across Boibeder's face as he saw the movement under
the duvet as Ash's hand checked that what he thought was true, he was naked
and he did have the inevitable, just woken, morning solidity that he knew
would not go away unless he did something about it, and how could he do
that with Boibeder in the same, small cabin?

The thoughts showed in Ash's face as they went through his mind. He
couldn't get out of bed like this, not hard like this! His clothes were the
other side of the cabin, his boxers on the towel rail in the shower
cubicle; there was no way he could cover himself, hide his stuff from
Boibeder.

He couldn't get out of bed with the duvet wrapped round him, that would be
so obvious, it would be like shouting out loud, "I got a hard on!" That
would be embarrassing, almost as embarrassing as letting Boibeder actually
see it! And it would also say he didn't want Boibeder to see it, see him
like that, and that wouldn't be fair, would it? It would be saying he'd
lied when he'd said `anything', and Ash didn't tell lies, not like that
anyway.

He'd done what he was asked last night, dropped the towel and let Boibeder
look at him and known, as he'd known from the very first moment, the moment
Boibeder had said, "What's in it for me?" the man wanted to do more than
just look, and he hadn't liked it, but he'd done it and, really, it hadn't
been that bad. It wasn't nice, wasn't what Ash wanted, but it hadn't been
too bad; it had been ok, good in that he felt he was keeping his side of
the deal, horrible in the way the man so obviously stared, wanted, lusted,
but sort of nice in the things he'd said.

What could he do? What should he do?

"I got to go through with this," he told himself, "I have to, I can't get
dumped now! And it's only looking. It's going to happen sometime, and I did
get myself into this."

The thoughts took only seconds, though it seemed like hours,

"Time to get up," Ash heard Boibeder saying, "Breakfast calls."

Ash took a deep breath, mentally gritted his teeth and pushed the duvet
down, swinging his legs out of the bunk, his erection standing upright and
in view, not full view, but certainly in view.

Boibeder sucked in his breath as the boy swung his legs out of the bunk,
the tip of his erection just showing as he sat on the edge.

"Show it all, Ash," his mind shouted, "Let me see it all!"

He was aware that Boibeder was looking at his nakedness and, although he so
much wanted to, he made no move to cover himself. If the man enjoyed
looking at him, then, oh fuck, let him look as much as he wanted. Being
looked at wasn't going to hurt him, wasn't going to make him `that sort of
boy'!

Ash realised with a sudden revelation that he actually didn't mind the man
looking; he almost wanted the man to look! It was wrong, against all his
cultural background, against all his acquired instincts, but, in some
strange way, it was daring and exciting as well; and, he realised, the
realisation making blood rush to his face, it was daring and exciting
because he was hard! Boibeder so obviously enjoyed looking, liked what he
was looking at, and Ash wanted to be liked. He wanted so much to be liked,
and there were none of his peers around to sneer at him, make snide
remarks, accuse him of being gay, which he so obviously wasn't.

But he was a boy, and boys, all boys, are proud of the bit between their
legs; large or small, thick or thin, it is their most treasured possession
and their favourite -- if sometimes forbidden -- toy. To show it off, to
have it admired, is a secret thrill, a thrill that Ash was now
experiencing; a daring and frightening thrill.

Boibeder watched the boy as he drunk in the naked beauty. Boibeder was
experienced in the ways of boys, he'd seduced many in his time. Boys came
in three major groups: those who just wanted to spunk, they didn't care who
did it for them or how well it was done; it was cock out, spunk and cock
away again. There were slut boys, boys who craved for cock, any cock. And
there were boys like Ash, who never realised they needed their bodies to be
used and enjoyed, and would have run at the first sign of physical contact
unless it came along with something else they didn't know about. These were
boys who wanted to be loved and Boibeder specialised in them.

Oh, sure, he'd had more than his fair share of the other types, casual boy
sex whenever he could get it, but the ones who made him really happy were
the ones who became boyfriends, the ones who shared everything. Ash,
Boibeder knew, could be such a boy, and he had no intention of letting him
get away. Just a couple more buttons to press and this boy was his.

It might sound like cynical seduction to anyone who does not understand the
special relationship there can be between boys and men. It was certainly
calculated seduction. Boibeder had been presented with a boy, and a boy
meant the chance of nice, young cock, the sort of cock Boibeder adored. He
had planned from the moment the boy had said `anything' that he would get
inside the boy's underwear. The initial plan had been to make a move and if
the boy objected then he'd simply chuck him out of the car. That plan had
been jettisoned almost at once. This boy had the potential for more than a
quick, chancy grope. He'd deliberately delayed any hint of sex till they
were in the cabin, then by asking to see Ash naked Boibeder knew he'd
planted the seed, he'd let the boy know his cock would be wanted, but by
not touching him, by letting the boy sleep alone, he'd also told Ash that
there was more to this than just four and a bit of uncut, slender boy
inches.

Boibeder sealed Ash's resolution, brushed away any last reservations in
allowing his erect nakedness to be seen, by moving forward and giving him a
gentle kiss on the forehead. No hands, no other contact, just a gentle,
chaste kiss.

"You are gorgeous," he said, looking into the boy's eyes before placing a
hand on the slender young shoulder. "Hope you're going to stay with me."

What could Ash do but give up and fall in love? Well, if not actually fall
in love, at least take a good sized step towards the brink.

"Might," he managed with a weak smile, his horror of being seen naked and
hard dissolving a bit in the heat of the wicked, exciting thrill of having
his erection admired.

"If I get you a good breakfast," Boibeder grinned.

"Something like that." Breakfast was a start, but the dangling hint of a
suggestion that there might be a lot more breakfasts to follow was a
powerful incentive for a runaway boy to show his all.

Ash let go of the duvet that he'd been gripping in case his nerve failed
him. Even as he made the decision to slip, naked and erect, from the top
bunk, he knew he'd never have done it if they were still in England; if
Boibeder had stopped at a hotel before they reached the boat, booked a
double room, Ash would not have done what he was about to do. Somehow,
being on the boat, away from England, away from his old life, things were
different and he could dare to do what he'd never have done back
there. This was a new life, a different life, and he swallowed all his
doubts, all his reservations, put his hands on the edge of the bunk and
swung down in front of Boibeder, his erection bouncing as he did so.

He stood for a moment, allowing the eyes that fixed themselves on his
slender, boy inches to feast for a moment, gave a shy smile and went into
the shower cubicle, washed and came back out to get dressed in a rose
coloured world, not caring that Boibeder's eyes were glued to his body
until his jeans were on over his now dry boxers and his clean, if rumpled,
tee shirt covered his top.  He floated down to the buffet bar where a super
large platter of sausages, eggs, bacon, beans and toast levitated
themselves into his mouth, his second boy filling meal in twelve hours.

`Anything', Ash was beginning to understand, included being treated as
`special', it translated, in his mind as `luxury'; at least for the
moment. It meant his cock as well, he knew that beyond all doubt, but, in
some strange, inexplicable way, he'd almost enjoyed allowing Boibeder to
see him naked and hard, and he hadn't dealt with that hardness in the
shower; some deep, hidden instinct kept him from doing that, kept his balls
full for some later, unspecified time.



 Breakfast devoured, Ash floated again, out onto the deck where the sun
shone bright already, although it was still only a quarter to eight in the
wonderful morning and he wished that, like Boibeder, he had shorts to wear
instead of his jeans. Shorts might be good if the weather was going to be
as warm as it promised, and, he realised with a start, he'd actually and
unbelievably thought, shorts would leave his legs bare for Boibeder to look
at and maybe even stroke as they drove through France.

"What the fuck was he thinking!" he asked himself as that thought passed
through his mind. Wear shorts so the man could look at his legs! Even feel
his legs?! He didn't want the man touching him, feeling him, doing `those
sorts of things' to him! He wasn't `that sort of boy'! He most definitely
was not a poof! But letting Boibeder admire his legs, maybe even feel his
legs, wouldn't make him one of those, would it?

He mentioned it to Boibeder as they smoked on the sunlit deck.

"We got air con," Boibeder said, "So you won't get too uncomfortable." Then
he added, "But you can always get your jeans off once we're in the
car. Boxers are nearly shorts and no-one's going to notice while we're
pounding down the motorway."

He'd said it casually, but Ash knew he meant that he'd like it if Ash did
just that, so that's what he resolved to do. He had to, really, didn't he?
He had said `anything', so he didn't actually have a choice. It wasn't
because he wanted to, just that he had to. No way was he going to be left
in France, not now he had some idea of the sort of life he might get with
this man who wanted his cock.

"What about when we stop?" he asked raising his one remaining doubt.

"Depends what we stop for," Boibeder replied, a grin enough to confirm the
double meaning.

"I was thinking of refreshment," Ash grinned back, confirming he'd picked
up the innuendo and, feeling safe for some reason, wasn't bothered about
giving one back.

"So was I," Boibeder grinned even more, and they both laughed, happy with
each other and the shared understanding that, without words, Boibeder had
said `I want more than just the odd look', and Ash had said, `I know'.



As soon as he was in the car Ash kicked off his trainers and after a quick
look around to check it was safe, he undid his jeans and started to wriggle
them off. He stopped halfway down, the realisation of what he was doing
coming to the surface, and said in a serious tone,

"Praps I shouldn't do this."

"You choose," said Boibeder, disappointed and taking the boy seriously.

"I mean," Ash tried to say what was in his mind; it made sense to him, but
would it make sense if he said it out loud?  "I mean," he tried again,
"Like I'll be sittin' here in me boxers and you, well, you know," he tailed
off.

"I know what?" Boibeder's heart thumped. Was Ash actually going to say
something that mattered? Something that was important?

Ash was, but he couldn't; he couldn't just come out with it, couldn't say
he knew Boibeder fancied him and he shouldn't because Ash wasn't that sort
of boy, a boy who let men fancy him.

Ash ducked out of saying it directly, took a different route, one that he
felt safer with; say it, but hide it, make a joke of it.

"Well," Ash explained, instead of saying what he really meant, "It could be
dodgy, couldn't it."

"Why's that?"

"You might crash `cos you're looking at my legs instead of the road," Ash
giggled, pleased with his escape route, which still let Boibeder know that
Ash knew, and he had to do that, didn't he? He couldn't just keep
pretending he didn't understand what `anything' meant when he knew very
well what it did mean.

"True," Boibeder agreed, relieved that the boy was starting to relax, or
seemed to be, anyway, and happy that he felt secure enough to joke. "I
might just have to feel them instead," he grinned and then made as though
he was going to give a quick demonstration.

Ash stiffened, his body going rigid as Boibeder's hand began its move in
the direction of his leg.

"Oh, shit! No; please no!" his mind yelled.

 "And anyway," Boibeder said with mock seriousness, his hand never
completing its threat to Ash's body, "If we did crash it'd be your fault."

"How could it be my fault?"  Ash squeaked, rent with relief that `it' had
not happened.

"For having such gorgeous legs," Boibeder grinned.

Ash looked curiously at his legs as he dared to complete the removal of his
jeans. They didn't look special and gorgeous to him. They looked white and
skinny.

"I think they're skinny," he said.

"I'd call them slender," Boibeder grinned, "Gorgeous, smooth and slender:
just perfect for a gorgeous, slender boy."

Ash giggled, basking in the flattery despite the obvious implications that
Boibeder wanted him to be `that sort of boy' and he wanted to continue the
conversation but they had started to move and Boibeder's hand was back on
the steering wheel and his concentration on getting off the ferry. Oh,
well, they had a thousand miles to drive and there'd be plenty of
opportunity later.

As they made their way to the motorway Ash's thoughts were all on the
sudden and total turn his life had taken. Less than twenty four hours ago
life had been, at its best, shit. Unloved, that was a definite!

Unwanted? Well, he'd been told to fuck of and stay fucked off. When his
excuse for a mother had told him to go, she'd even dumped his passport and
birth certificate in front of him and told him to take them and piss off to
Australia or somewhere. That he had a passport at all was a freak, he'd
certainly never been abroad. It had been obtained, reluctantly, by his
so-called mother for a school trip that never happened. Having it thrown at
him yesterday morning had probably been the best thing that had ever
happened to him, he thought, then he amended that to second best thing. But
without it, the best thing would never have been, would it? Did he really
mean this was the best thing? Being with a man who wanted what Ash didn't
want to give? He wished he knew!

He was sitting in a fancy, expensive, Range Rover being driven to southern
Spain. That had to be a plus, didn't it? And he wasn't unwanted; he
certainly wasn't unwanted! But did he want to be wanted like that? The guy
who'd picked him up, old enough to be his grandfather, had been good to
him, though. Bought him fags and food, told him he was `gorgeous' and made
him feel good.

Ash wasn't innocent enough -- he was a teenage boy so he knew a thing or
two -- or stupid enough, to not be aware that the man wanted something in
return for his kindness, and Ash knew only too well what that something
was.

 Ok, so the guy was bent, he liked boys, that much was obvious. So this guy
wanted his cock. Fine. It wasn't a shock, but was it something he could
deal with? When the guy had asked what he'd get out of helping Ash, he'd
said he'd do anything, and he'd realised long before Boibeder had asked to
see him naked, that `anything' included the bits between his legs. He could
have said `no', refused to show his nakedness. Yeh, he'd probably been
dumped as soon as they were off the boat, but it had been his choice, he'd
gone along with it, and, for fuck's sake, why shouldn't he?!

Bollocks! He actually liked this old guy looking at him, admiring him and
even wanting him, though he couldn't yet admit that last bit, and as far as
Ash was concerned he could look as much as he wanted. That was why he was
sitting here with his jeans chucked on the back seat, wasn't it? And that
was why the world was now a beautiful, sunny place and not some grey shitty
dump.

He loved this guy for being nice to him, for helping him, not rejecting
him. Ok. He'd done it because he liked boys and wanted Ash's young, fresh
body. So what?

So what about him doing more than just looking? What about when it really
came down to it and the guy wanted his cock, not just to look at either?
Was that a fair deal, being cared for in return for his cock? Ash didn't
know; part of him wanted to say `yes', it was fair, and it was his offer in
the first place, after all. But he hadn't thought it through then, just
said it because he was desperate. Now he really did have to face reality:
he was still desperate, but desperate in a different way now, desperate not
to lose the rose coloured world he'd stepped into; he didn't want to go
back to greyness; he really didn't want that!

But he wasn't `that sort of boy', he told himself yet again, he wasn't the
sort of boy who'd let men have his cock.

Would it really be that bad? Would he be damned to eternal flames if he did
let `it' happen? His cock needed wanking anyway, all it meant was that he
let Boibeder do it for him, he didn't have to do it himself. Was there
really that much difference?

Lost in these thoughts Ash hadn't realised they were no longer on the
motorway, that they were indeed, pulling into the car park of the largest
Hypermarket Ash had ever seen.

"Time for a fag and coffee," Boibeder said when he noticed Ash was
returning from wherever he'd been. "And to get you some stuff."

"What stuff?" Ash had no idea what Boibeder was talking about.

"Nice as you look in those boxers," Boibeder grinned, "We can't have you
wriggling around getting your jeans back on every time we stop. Might raise
a few eyebrows," he grinned. "So we'll get you some proper shorts, and some
decent trainers," he added with a look at the scruffy ones by Ash's
feet. "And a top or two. You're supposed to be my grandson, so you'd better
look like it and not like some scruffy runaway I've picked up."

Ash blushed, well aware that his clothing was both less than new and less
than good.

"Er, money," he said quietly, "I don't have any."

"I do," Boibeder grinned. "Come on. Jeans on and let's go shopping."

Ash followed in a daze. Was this really happening? He was being bought
clothes now!

A couple of pairs of tailored shorts, another two pairs of football ones,
three tops and two, yes two, pairs of trainers later, Ash sat bewildered in
the cafeteria sipping coke while Boibeder disposed of a double
espresso. What to think now? Ash didn't know how much had just been spent
on him, it was all in euro's and he hadn't got a clue what a euro was
worth, but he did know the bill had been over three hundred and that alone
seemed like serious pennies to him.

"If I was you," Boibeder was saying to him, "I'd pick a top and shorts and
trainers and go to the bog and change."

"What?" Ash managed.

"No point in having new stuff and leaving it in the bag," Boibeder grinned.

"Yeh," Ash agreed, still in a daze at being treated like this. He delved in
the bag, picked out a top and the football shorts and wandered off in the
direction of the toilets, reappearing a few minutes later the perfect
picture of a desirable boy. Pale blue tee shirt, darker blue shorts,
Boibeder thought he looked delicious.

"Mmmm, nice, Ash," he commented when the boy sat back down.

"Does look quite cool," Ash agreed with a smile. He'd had a good look at
himself in the washroom mirror and even he thought he looked good. He
hadn't the faintest idea of the sort of thing that men who liked boys
looked for, but when he checked himself out in the washroom mirror he did
think he might get a few men taking more than a passing glance. And why the
hell had he thought that? He wasn't `that sort of boy!!!'

Boibeder waited until their next stop before turning up the heat on Ash;
lunch in one of the service stations that come up every twenty kilometres
on the French motorways, two hours later. Boibeder parked carefully, close
to a picnic bench and not close to anyone else, and lunch over they took
drinks outside and over to the bench to sit and smoke while they drank.

"Some honest answers now, Ash," Boibeder started. "There are things I need
to know about you and I'm pretty sure there are a few things you want to
find out about me. You can ask anything you want and I'll give you an
honest answer. Ok?"

"Oh shit!" Ash thought, "Now he's gonna make a move on me!" But he nodded,
a bit apprehensive, wondering what to do about it.

"How old are you, Ash?" Boibeder asked bluntly.

"Sixteen," Ash's answer was quick, but with a hint of defiance and his eyes
widened slightly and there was a hint of a blush creeping into his cheeks.

"Honest answer, Ash," Boibeder said quietly. "It's important."

"Sixteen," Ash repeated, putting all his deception skills into his tone,
though the blush was still there.

"You might be," Boibeder said, then added, "But I've seen thirteen year
olds with more pubes than you've got. You're tall enough to get away with
being a young looking sixteen with clothes on, but naked? I have my
doubts."

Ash was silent.

"I just want honesty, Ash. I'm hardly going to take you to the nearest
police station and tell them I picked up a runaway, and that I think, from
the amount of pubes he's got, that he's about fourteen, am I?"

Ash did manage an involuntary grin at that.

"I've no desire to spend time in a prison cell because I've abducted an
underage boy. I do desire to spend as much time with him as possible, just
don't want to get done for it."

Ash could understand that, Boibeder no more wanted police involvement than
Ash did, but it was good to hear the man's other words, to know Boibeder
wanted Ash around. It made him feel safer. So long as the man wanted his
cock, Ash reasoned, he wouldn't get rid of him.

"You just want me for my cock," Ash blurted his fear to the ground, his
body language voicing his dilemma; was being safe, secure, looked after,
wanted, worth becoming `that sort of boy'?

"No." Boibeder said seriously. "I want you because you've got a cock. Not
quite the same thing."

Ash looked puzzled, raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.

"If you'd been a girl hitching a lift, I'd have driven straight on by,"
Boibeder explained.

"You're bent, aren't you," Ash said, not intending it as an insult, but
saying out loud what he was sure of, what his problem was: Boibeder was
bent; Ash wasn't.

"I'd probably phrase it a little more politely," Boibeder grinned, not
offended in the slightest by the boy's lack of tact. "But yes, I'm gay and
I go for teenage boys. But you might have guessed that already," he smiled
back at Ash.

"Has been a hint or two," Ash almost grinned , relaxing again when he
realised he hadn't offended the man.

"And so long as you're ok with that, we can continue."

"I don't know," Ash tried to be honest, say what he meant, what he was
thinking. "I guess I got nothing to complain about so far," Ash smiled,
weighing up all he'd had done for him since he was picked up against the
bit about letting Boibeder look at him naked.

"Good." Boibeder took a drag on his rollup, thought for a moment, then
said,

"You might as well know that keeping my hands off you requires considerable
will power."


Chapter four will follow shortly: I hope the lack of hot, hard sex in this
episode hasn't put you off; there will be plenty eventually.


Josh