Date: Thu, 28 Dec 2006 17:22:02 +0000 From: Pink Panther Subject: 'Some Other Blues' chapter 13. This story is a work of erotic fiction. If reading erotic fiction is illegal where you live, please leave this page now. If you are under age for reading this type of material, please leave this page now. This story contains scenes of sexual interaction involving both underage boys and older guys. If this is not what you wish to read, please leave this page now. There is one more chapter after this. I will post the final chapter in one week's time. Feedback, including constructive criticism, is more than welcome and I always reply to it. To send comments, please e-mail : pinkpanther2@hotmail.co.uk and I will reply as soon as I can. 13 We drop Glen off and go to a pub for lunch. Afterwards it's back to Wayne's place. Apart from arranging to meet again on Tuesday evening we're both pretty quiet. I don't mind; it gives me some time to think. The threesome was a mistake, not just because of Glen being so aggressive, but I actually prefer being one-on-one with someone; don't know why, I just do. Still, I've got another sixty quid in my pocket, so at least I'm not going to starve to death. It's half past two when we arrive. Wayne looks like he hasn't been up long. He and Mike go off into the bedroom again, leaving me in front of the telly. It's fully five minutes before they emerge. Mike gives me a big smile and a quick "see you Tuesday" and he's gone. "So whose idea was it to invite Glen over for a threesome?" Wayne demands, looking annoyed. "Mine, why?" "Hmm! Well make sure it doesn't happen again, that's all!" "So don't you like him, then? I don't think he likes you." "Why, what did he say?" "Called you Wayne the pimp." "Yeah? Well some time last year I sorted him out a punter, nothing heavy, nice little earner for him. Next thing I know he's stealing from the guy, threatening him, all sorts of shit; had to give him a good kicking. So he hates me and I hate him, evil little bastard!" "Mike says he's all right when you get to know him; he wasn't very nice with me though. We won't be doing it again; I didn't like it really." "Yeah, well if Mike wants you doing that sort of stuff he can look after you, okay?" "Yeah, not a problem." "You seeing Mike again?" "Tuesday evening; he's going to pick me up about six." "Right! Well remember what I said then!" He stomps off to the bedroom looking like a bear with a sore head. 0 o 0 o 0 o 0 The atmosphere in the flat has been a bit difficult over the last two days. Sometimes Wayne will snap at me for no reason, then later he'll apologise. It's easy to see why he and Glen don't like each other; they've both got the same aggressive streak in them. I guess he doesn't want to upset me too much though. Right now I'm his meal ticket. Since I've been staying here we've spent forty quid on food and I've paid for all of it. The one place where he's always really gentle with me is in bed. Yeah, I'm his sex-action too, not that I mind that one bit. Sunday night I asked him not to fuck me because my bum was still sore. I thought he might snap at me, call me a little slut or something, but he didn't say a word, and he hasn't mentioned it since. Part of problem is that I'm missing being at home, mum, my mates and all the rest of it. What makes things worse is that there's not enough for me to do here, so I get bored all the time. I guess that makes me a pain in the backside. Anyway, I'm still here, sitting in front of the telly waiting for Mike to show up. I'm worrying about what's going to happen at the weekend. Wayne's told me I can't stay here and Mike can't look after me either, so I'll have to find somewhere else, either that or go back home. It's not that I don't want to go back home, I'm just dreading what might happen if I do. There are three rings on the doorbell. My punter's arrived. After another behind closed doors conversation with Wayne - more money changing hands I'd guess - we're on our way. 0 o 0 o 0 o 0 On the bed with Mike; he's sucking my dick, tweaking my nipples, kissing me, licking me all over, while I do the same to him. It's all great fun, He certainly knows how to get me turned on and I seem to be having the same effect on him; being able to get him all steamed up like that's a buzz in itself. He's a nice guy too; I don't think Wayne could have fixed me up with anyone better. He takes the tube of KY from the drawer in the bedside cabinet and starts working it into my bum. This is so exciting, my cock twitching every time his fingers touch my prostate. "You love this, don't you, you naughty boy!" Mike whispers. I nod enthusiastically. He withdraws his fingers and produces a pair of white gym shorts. "I've got these for you," he tells me. I give him my cheekiest grin; I know exactly what he wants. Well, after all, I did tell him about Jon doing me like that. I quickly slip them on. They're nylon and feel quite hard, not like the silky soccer shorts I usually wear; they're much shorter too. This is going to be wild. He gets me bent over his desk, a pillow under my chest. Quite unexpectedly he smacks my bum very hard. "Aaaagghhh!!" I yelp involuntarily, prompted by the shock more than the pain. I gasp as a second smack follows across the backs of my legs. "You naughty boy!" he whispers, "Now you're going to get your real punishment!" He moves in behind me, lowering my shorts an inch or so to give himself room. A second later his cock slides up inside the leg; he locates my hole and thrusts it right into me. He doesn't waste a moment; in next to no time he's fucking me stupid. "Ooh, ooh, sir! Your thing's too big!" I whimper, eagerly joining in the role-play. "Oooh, please take it out, sir!" He doesn't, of course, not that I want him to. I just keep moaning and whimpering like I was an innocent little virgin. The coarse nylon rubbing against my cock is making it leak precum, a wet patch at the front of my shorts growing steadily. The feelings in my cock as Mike's dick slams over my prostate are unbelievable; he's fucking me so hard I barely know which day of the week it is. I'm getting closer by the second. "Oh! Ohh!!" I moan, my whole body twitching and shaking, my bum gripping Mike's dick like I'm trying to squeeze it dry. Spunk flies out of my cock and floods into my shorts. "Oh, you naughty boy!" he gasps, gripping me round the thighs "You just love having sir's cock up your cute little bum!" He gives me a few more thrusts. "Oh! Oh yes! Here it cums! Take my spunk! Take it up your tight little boy-hole! Oh! Nnngg!! Aaaarrrrgggghhhh!!!!" His cock swells and jerks deep inside me, his spunk spurting over and over into me bum. After a few seconds to get his breath back he slowly pulls out. I don't wait for him to ask me; I fart, quite deliberately His spunk splutters out of my bum-hole, messing the back of my shorts. "Shit!" he moans, still gasping for air, "that was the best fuck ever! You are the sexiest kid I've ever met!" "You'd better not let Glen hear you say that," I say, smirking at him. I pull off the soiled shorts. "A souvenir for you," I say, handing them to him before padding along to the bathroom to get myself cleaned up. 0 o 0 o 0 o 0 Half an hour later and we're on our way back to the city. Something's not right. Usually I feel really good after some wild sex like that. Tonight, no after-glow, nothing; I just feel flat, like `so what's the big deal?' like I did a job and that's all it was. Well, at least I earned another forty quid, enough to keep me going for a few days. Mike makes a call on his cell phone. "Wayne's in the Red Cube," he tells me. "That's a bar just by the theatre. He's asked me to drop you off outside. You can wait for him there, okay?" "Yeah, I guess," I reply casually. It's tough shit if it isn't. I don't want to be standing on the street outside Wayne's flat waiting for him to come home, so I don't have much choice. We reach the city centre, driving between shops and office buildings, through the one-way system until we're outside the bar. "Wayne says to wait here; he won't be long. If anyone tries to give you any grief, leg it down the stairs, okay?" I nod. "And if you spot any coppers, just walk round the block; he'll wait for you." He pats my thigh. "Take care of yourself. See you Saturday if you're still around." I get out of the car and watch it drive away. It's ten to eleven. The bar closes at eleven then there's ten minutes for everyone to finish their drinks. That's twenty minutes to wait. It's pretty boring but I'll survive, I guess. Far from there being people around who are going to give me grief, the whole area seems dead. The minutes drag on. Two minutes past eleven, there are people coming up the stairs from the bar. I hear a familiar voice, but it's not Wayne's. It seems out or place, like it belongs somewhere else. A group of young guys appears at the top of the stairs; at first there's nobody I recognise. They emerge through the door. Suddenly there he is; it's Tim Ballard. I'm frozen to the spot, staring at him, completely unable to move. This just doesn't make sense; Tim's not gay, he can't be. He's the best teacher I ever had, he coaches the under-15s soccer team, half the girls in the school want to go out with him and he's just come out of a gay bar with three other guys. "Arron!" he says, his voice full of alarm. "What on earth are you doing here?" I just stand there staring at him, totally unable to speak. "Hey guys," he says to his drinking buddies, "there's something I need to deal with here. You carry on; I'll catch up with you later. Marc, can you drop Josh off for me?" He turns towards a slim, stunningly fit-looking blond guy, probably the youngest one in the group. "See you at home," he says quietly squeezing the guy's hand. "Don't wait up." The other three stroll off down the street. This is completely surreal. "Well, Arron?" he asks, a more insistent tone this time. "I'm waiting for someone," I croak, still hardly able to get the words out. "You need to go home," he says firmly. "Let me take you there now." "I can't." "Arron, your mum's making herself sick worrying about you. You're not in any trouble; please let me take you home. Whatever the problem is I'm sure we can get it sorted out." I don't move a muscle; just stand there looking at him. "Arron, you're all she's got!" I'm ready to burst into tears, but I still don't move. "Please Arron, trust me. I can't force you, but if you won't go home I'll have to go straight to the police and tell them where I saw you." I've got to make a decision. If we stand here any longer Wayne will come out and all hell will break loose. If Tim tells the coppers where he's seen me I'll have to move out of Wayne's; it just won't be safe for me to stay there any more. The game's over and I know it. Well, at least it seems like Tim's gay. Maybe, just maybe, he might understand, might be able to help. If there's any adult I trust it's him; right now I don't have any choice. "Okay," I say quietly, and walk off with him towards where he's parked his car. He unlocks the door with the remote. I flop into the front passenger seat feeling completely drained. He starts up the motor and we're on our way. "Well," he says quietly. "How about you tell me what's been going on?" I take a deep breath; this is going to be difficult. "You'll have to promise not to tell anyone, sir. I mean anyone." "You haven't been in a relationship with one of the teachers at school, have you?" "No." "Good! That's the one thing I wouldn't be able to keep quiet about. So you have my word; nothing you tell me will be repeated to anyone. And please don't miss bits out because you think I might be shocked; I won't be." I take it right from the top; tell him everything. He prompts me with a few questions here and there, but mainly he just lets me get on with it. At last I'm finished. "I suppose you think I'm a right little slut, sir." "No, of course not! Hell! I can remember feeling like that and wanting to have sex with anything that moved. You've made a few bad decisions, but we all do that. What you've got to do is to learn from it and move on. I don't think your latest escapade was the best idea in the world, but I can understand why you did it." "I guess you think I ought to tell the police what went on with Steve." "You'll be surprised to learn that I think that's the last thing you ought to do. When I was a bit older than you I had a friend who went through exactly the same thing. Parents went apeshit; insisted on calling the police. He went along with it, and it totally screwed him up afterwards. All the police were interested in was getting a conviction, another sex offender locked up. We didn't call them paedophiles back then. Then he had these social services people crawling all over him, telling him he was a victim of abuse and how he needed counselling. What he actually needed was to be able to put it behind him and get on with his life, just the same as you do." "Thanks, sir, but what if mum still says I've got to tell the police about it?" "I'll have to talk to her, explain things a bit. She's only trying to protect you, to do the right thing. I'm sure I can talk her round." "Sir, how did you know I'd run away?" "Jonathan told me, second period Friday. I was surprised you weren't there so I asked him if he knew where you were. At first he said you were sick, but at the end of the lesson he came and told me what had happened. He was very upset about it; I've never seen him like that. Later on your mum came into school to talk to Mr. Burford; she was worried sick. As it goes, I'd already put Phil Burford in the picture from what Jonathan had said. You're very close to Jon aren't you?" Yeah; we've been mates since we started school, me, Jon and Ricky." "Ricky?" "Westbrook." "Oh, Richard. Yes, I taught him last year. He's a good lad too, very good soccer player." "Sir, I don't want to be cheeky, but you are gay, aren't you?" He glances across and gives me a beautiful smile. "Yes, of course I am!" "So how d'you manage, sir, you know, coaching the soccer team and that. Don't you get turned on, seeing them in the showers and stuff? I mean, some of them are really fit, especially Ian Statham." "Ian's growing up into a very good looking young guy. However, he has a very nice girlfriend and I'm sure he'd have not the slightest interest in me! Even if he did, it's my job to keep things on a professional level, and that's what I do. I don't mix business with pleasure; never have, never will. I guess it is a bit easier for me than it would be for some guys though." "Why, sir?" "Because I've got a gorgeous boyfriend that I love to pieces. We've been together four years and my sex life is all that I could want it to be." That's the blond guy he's talking about. Fuck! I wish that was me! He smiles down at me. "Something you need to learn is that there's nothing wrong with casual sex, like you've been having; it's just that it's a very poor second to having sex with someone you really care about. The problem is that casual sex can make you hard, so you don't appreciate the real thing when it comes along." Shit! That is so weird. If he'd said that to me just a few days ago I wouldn't have had a clue what he was talking about; now I understand perfectly. It's why I felt like I did after I'd had sex with Mike. Tim glances across, giving me another stunning smile. "Right! Now let me ask you something." He says. "Who's this guy you've been staying with?" "His name's Wayne." "Big guy, about my age, dark curly hair? "D'you know him, sir?" "Not really. I know who he is. He was in the bar tonight." "I've left my bag at his place; it's got most of my best clothes in it." "Not a problem; give me the address and I'll go and collect it. He'll probably want to know that you're all right in any case." I do as he says. "You have to ring the bell three times; it's a sort of code, so he knows it's not the coppers or anything." "Cool." I look up at him. "Sir, will you thank him for looking after me?" "Yes, no problem." "And will you give him this?" I fish a twenty pound note from my pocket and hand it to him. "Sure." We turn onto Whitestone Avenue; a minute later we're pulling up outside my house. My heart's beating so hard I can hardly breathe. We walk to the front door and ring the bell. There's no answer. We ring again. Mum's voice comes from upstairs. "Who is it?" "It's Tim Ballard from Moor Grange School. I've got Arron with me." Thirty seconds later the door opens. For a second or two mum and I just stand there, looking at each other. Then the dam breaks; I rush forward and put my arms round her. "Mum! I'm so sorry!" I whimper. We both burst into tears. Tim just stands there, saying absolutely nothing. I'm not really too aware of what's going on right now; suddenly we're all in the living room without me having much idea how we got there. "Where did you find him?" mum asks. This calls for some quick thinking on my part; I don't want mum knowing where we really were. "Mr. Ballard had been to the theatre in Birmingham with some friends. They were just coming out and he spotted me." "Thank you so much for bringing him home. I was so worried." "It was just lucky I was there, I guess," he replies quietly. "What else could I do?" He pauses for a few seconds. "I think you know why he ran away." "He didn't want to have to tell the police what this man had been doing to him." "Yeah; Arron and I have talked a lot about this while we were driving back here. He feels that it wouldn't be right. The man didn't force him to do anything; I know you probably still think of Arron as your baby boy, but the reality is that he went with this guy because he wanted to." "The man seduced him with money and presents; took advantage of how impressionable he is. That isn't right, is it?" Mum says insistently. "There certainly seems to have been an element of that," Tim responds quietly, "but Arron has told me very clearly that he would have had sex with this man even if there had been no money involved. Let me tell you something from when I was growing up. When I was about a year older than Arron, a friend of mine who was gay found himself in exactly the same position. Only when his parents found out and insisted on going to the police, he went along with it. It destroyed him for years afterwards. All the police were interested in was getting a conviction. Then he had people from social services crawling all over him, trying to fill his head full of nonsense. He told me years later that he never felt bad about having had sex with an older guy, but he'd been completely traumatised by the way the police and social services dealt with him." "I don't like the idea of letting this man get away with it," mum says. "If it's not Arron, it might be some other poor kid." "Well, that may be true," Tim concedes, "but you know how well Arron's been doing at school; I'm very concerned not to disrupt that. If you do go to the police and have this guy arrested, the whole process will go on for months, even if he pleads guilty. Arron has assured me that the relationship is over; he knows he made a mistake. I believe that what Arron needs now is to be allowed to draw a line under it and move on." There's a long pause; my heart's thumping like crazy. "Is this right, Arron?" Mum says in her most insistent voice. "Yes, mum; I promise." There's another long pause. "Mr. Ballard," mum says. "All the parents say what a great teacher you are; everyone wants to get their kids into your class. I know Arron thinks the world of you. And you're right; he's been doing ever so well. I'm not happy about it, but I'm going to trust you. We'll say no more about what's happened and try to move on, like you say. But please, if you think he's going off the rails at all, promise you'll let me know." "That will be no problem," Tim says quietly. "Well, I'm sure you have a lot to talk about and I need to get to bed, so I'm going to say goodnight." "Thanks sir," I mumble, amazed that he's actually pulled it off for me. Moments later he's making his way out into the night. Mum and I sit back down again, me on the sofa, mum in her favourite armchair. Right, so now the inquisition's going to start; where have I been, who've I been with, what have I been doing. Then I'll get the lecture; I'm not looking forward to this. "I'm not sure I would have agreed to just forget about this if Alison hadn't said exactly the same thing," Mum says, still sounding worried. "Sorry, I don't understand; said what?" "About going to the police; apparently it happened to one of her friends too, had a much older boyfriend who was having sex with her. Parents went to the police; the girl cried every night for months about her boyfriend going to jail. Police and social services just seemed to make things worse." "Oh!" "Alison said she's known you were gay for ages." "Really?" "Said you remind her of a boy she knew at school. I don't mind you being gay, son; I wouldn't even mind you having, you know, a boyfriend, as long as it's someone more your own age. I still think you're very young to be having sex, but that's your choice. But you mustn't go with these older men, even if you really like them. You'll just end up getting hurt." "Yeah, I know," I say quietly. "I won't do that again, I promise." Yeah, I'll get hurt; just like I did this time. "Now it's all over, I'm sort of glad this happened," she says, looking right into my eyes. "I mean that you didn't just cave in when I said about going to the police. It shows you've got some fight in you; you're going to need that." "Yeah, thanks." "Well, I suppose we'd better get to bed," she says, smiling at me. "Just one other thing; Jon came here on Sunday afternoon. He told me that you'd been, you know, doing things. I was shocked, of course, but he said he just wanted to do anything he could to help me find you. He seemed to be just as worried about you as I was. He's a good boy; you're very lucky to have a friend like him." "Yeah, I know; Jon and Ricky are the best mates I could ever have. Jon's not gay though; he just likes messing about. He's into girls, really." "Well, I'll pop in on my way to work in the morning, let him know you're safe. He was worried that I might tell his dad, but I said that he was very brave to come and tell me and there was no need for me to do that. Well, it wouldn't have done any good, would it?" "Thanks, mum." We make our way upstairs to bed. There was no inquisition, no lecture. I guess I've got Mr. Ballard to thank for that, and Alison. It seems like Mum's started to realise that I'm not just her little boy any more.