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The Emancipation of Oscar Lewis.
By John Teller.
Part 3.
Jeremy Foster.
Sunday 2nd January. I'm up at nine and making a coffee. The site will be almost back to normal by late in the evening. Most of the workers will return today to get ready to kick in early doors in the morning, and just a few will wander back in tomorrow, making some sort of an excuse that their car has broken down or whatever. Already in situ and having caught up with the paperwork, I have a free day. But I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it. I want to see Oscar if I can, but that will depend entirely on things his end. The excuse that he's helping me over my hangover is past, so he'll have to work something else out. But that leaves me in a bit of a quandary. I can't go too far away just in case he calls, but I want to go to the pub to see what/if any damage I caused to my reputation on New Year's Eve. That's still worrying me, and I have to sort it one way or another.
At almost eleven my mobile rings. It's a number I don't recognize, so I ask, "Hello. Who's that?"
I hear a chuckle, and then Ted says, "It's me. Fancy a pint at lunch?"
I chuckle. "Not sure. I'm still a bit delicate. How are you?"
"The same, but what kills, also cures. How about we have a couple of pints and then you can come back here and have Sunday dinner with us. Michelle says she'll set you a place. Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. Fancy it?"
I'm overjoyed. There are certainly no problems in the Lewis household regarding my drunken exploits, and having dinner with them will mean I get to see Oscar again. "Sounds good," I reply, "I'll see you about mid-day?"
"Twelve o'clock it is. I'll tell Michelle to have dinner ready for two o'clock. See you at the pub."
When Ted breaks the call, I make another coffee and then go into the bedroom to look at Oscar's photos; at the one that Oscar was looking at; the one where he's walking home from school; the one that I like most. I've looked at it hundreds of times, wondering what he would be like without his clothes on, but his superb body is no longer a secret to me. This gorgeous boy, who's ignored me for months, is now my lover. Just like that! All the boys I've had pretty much came on to me almost immediately, but then it was a matter of sorting things between us before I was in their pants and getting to the nitty gritty. But the boy I thought I had no chance with has come onto me in an explosion of circumstances that I could never have planned, and within twenty four hours he's been in bed with me, and I've filled his beautiful bum full of spunk. And there's something else different this time: parents are involved. That's never happened before. The boys have never wanted their home lives and our sex life to amalgamate. Nor did I. It was much safer that way. And I can't say that being close friends with Oscar's parents isn't worrying me... it is, but there are both positives and negatives to it.
One of the negatives is that I actually like Ted and Michelle a lot. They're my sort of people; nice and friendly and welcoming just as they've shown now by inviting me to Sunday dinner. And that's why I feel like shit knowing I'm abusing their boy while they're caring for me. Another negative is that I fancy Michelle. Although I'm into boys, I'm bisexual when a really superb woman is available. I'd love to fuck her, and I'm pretty sure that given the chance, she won't put up too much resistance. We touched quite a few times before I got to the stage where I couldn't remember what went on at the party; just brushing of hands or bodies it was, but there's no ambiguity that it was a sort of courtship. What will I do if the opportunity arises? I pretty much know what I'll do. Even though I've got a mad crush on their son and am having sex with him, and double crossing Ted will be a problem to me, I'll fuck Michelle if she wants it. This is getting complicated.
**********
It's sort of surreal sitting at the old pine table in the Lewis country cottage with black-oak beams covered in pewter tankards hanging above us. The ancient Aga cooker has warmed the place up, and like Ted, I sit with rolled up shirtsleeves as we eat dinner and sup at our brown ales.
Directly across from me sits Oscar, dressed in blue jeans and a collared blue tee-shirt. (I make a mental note that, like me, he likes blues. I might be able to use that in the future.) Every now and again our eyes meet and flicker a momentary recognition of what we are to each other now. And sitting next to him is his mother who's also giving me the same hidden signals. Because I've fucked the lad opposite, and because I also want to fuck his mum, it is a bit surreal. Oscar looks more like his dad feature-wise, so it has to be the eyes that are attracting us all. Oscar has his mum's eyes; those fantastic green ones that move me somewhere inside. Have I got the same crush on his mother that I have on Oscar? I don't think so. I reckon its pure lust with her. Apart from her looks, she has a superb body with nice tits and curves in all the right places, and more than once I've looked at her bum and thought that I'd like to fuck her back and front. And I reckon she's hot enough to do it! She's certainly an ultra-sexy creature. I suppose the ultimate sexual encounter would be to share a bed with both of them. Now that would make an interesting ménage à trios! My pervy thoughts are broken when Ted - who's sitting adjacent to me - nudges me on the arm with his elbow, and says, "Eat up City Boy. Apple pie and custard for pudding. Mrs Lewis has done the works for you. You should come every Sunday."
I laugh. Michelle blushes slightly. Oscar grins, and then I feel his foot make contact with mine under the table.
The rest of the meal goes great; much of it spent laughing at our antics at the New Year's Eve party. It's a jolly good dinner, and I reckon for various and complex reasons we all enjoy it immensely. Then we three `men' retire to the small, cosy living room with the log fire and which is adorned with more antiques and bygones from the age of blacksmithing. There's a certain pride in Oscar as he explains what they all are, and again he says he's going to follow in his father's footsteps one day. That propels my thoughts onto him as an adult; a strong, brawny, sinewy man. But that doesn't quite sit well with me. In our lovemaking he's been the submissive one (which is how I like my boys), and I reckon it will be sort of grotesque unless he finds someone bigger and stronger than him to take the lead part. But maybe our affair is a learning process in his sexual development. Maybe one day he'll just flip and become heterosexual. Having a gay affair when one is young doesn't necessarily mean one turns out to be fully gay. He may finish up to be bi-sexual and live his life conforming to the norm of society.
Whatever, right now he's blossomed into my gay, boy-partner, and I want more of the delicious creature who's stolen my heart, and every time I look at the cute bum filling his jeans, I'm seeing it naked and available.
The afternoon goes swimmingly, too. Ted and I have got over our over-indulgence of the party and we drink steadily and sensibly throughout the afternoon as we chat about life in general. I'm a little tipsy, as is Ted, and Michelle drinks about four glasses of red wine, so none of us are exactly stone cold sober. Oscar flits. One moment he'll be sitting on the arm of the armchair his mum is sitting in with his arm around her neck, and the next he'll be on the sofa with his dad, cuddled in his father's arms. I'm not jealous. It's nice to see the affection they share. I'm not entirely left out. He goes upstairs to his bedroom, brings down a puzzle book, sits on the arm of the armchair I'm sitting in, and together we do a few puzzles, both laughing when I pretend not to know what to do as he leans against me. And before we all know it, it's dark, and I decide to take my leave. There are mild protestations, but I know it's time to give the family some room. It's been a wonderful afternoon, and no way do I want to spoil it.
I'm not sure it's the right thing to do, but when Oscar gets his coat, puts the lead on Jack to take him for a walk, and says he'll walk with me back to the caravan, laughingly adding, "I'll make sure you get across the road without getting knocked over," unless I want to make it sound like I'm protesting too much for some reason, I accept that he's pitched it just about right that he genuinely needs to take the dog for a walk, and accompanying me is part and parcel of doing just that. So I don't protest, and neither do his parents. I bid them both farewell, and off we go.
When we've walked a short way, I say to Oscar, "I've enjoyed today. It was fun."
He looks up at me. "Are the other workmen back yet?"
I look down at him. "Some of them. Why?"
He shrugs his shoulders. "You said I'd got to be very careful. Do you think anybody will notice if I come in for five minutes?"
I almost tease him, but change my mind. "I don't think so. But I'm more worried what your parents will think if you're away too long."
He shrugs his shoulders again. "Five minutes won't make any difference."
I grin at him. "Do you always get your own way?"
He grins back. "Most of the time."
**********
Five minutes is probably almost fifteen. Well, that's how long it takes for Oscar to light the gas fire, settle Jack, get me into the bedroom, lie on the bed with his jeans and underpants around his ankles with his tee-shirt tucked up by his neck, and get me to suck him off. I make a good job of it with a finger inserted inside his bum hole whilst pulling him from the bed to get his dick deep into my mouth, and my reward is tasting that small amount of boy nectar in the back of my throat as his sphincter throbs on my finger when he climaxes. Then he's gone, as usual, running as fast as he can to get home before they suspect anything. Because it's a twenty-five minute walk, I reckon he'll not be far short of his normal dog-walk time when he gets back if he and Jack keep up that pace. Boys and their exuberance never fail to amaze me.
********** ********** ********** ********** **********
Oscar Lewis.
My cock is as hard as a nail as I run my hands over my naked body in bed, pretending it's Jezza doing it to me. I came about five minutes ago, but I'm feeling sexy again after a short rest. It's happening more and more to me lately; wanking and then wanting more not soon after. I did it this morning when I woke up; Jezza has sucked me off; I've just wanked, and I still want more. I know what it is; my body is changing and I'm becoming a man. Hormones they say it is. How many times will I need to wank as I get older? Christ... I'll be doing it fourteen times a day if this keeps up! My cock was hard about half an hour before I took Jezza home because I was planning how I could get him to do me. He made a good job of it. Having his finger up my bum made it even better when the feelings came.
My bum. I've often tickled it before when I've been playing with myself, but it wasn't until Jezza put his tongue up me and then fucked me that I realized how sexy my bum is to me. But is that just a gay thing? Rappa, one of my schoolmates has a porn mag, and in it is a woman licking a bloke's bum hole out while he's fucking another woman. So it must be just a sex thing. Anyway, I like it so much that having Jezza's cock up my bum while I was wanking make it one of the best sex experiences I've ever had, if not the best! But what about Jezza? He's definitely gay, but into boys more than men probably. Well, not little boys like really little boys. I'm probably his right age to fuck. And he must have done it before to other boys. He's too good to be new at it. I wonder how many boys he's had before? Probably lots. Probably at least one boy on every job he's been to. He says he'll be on this job for another two years. Will we last that long? Will he get fed up with me as I get older, and find another boy to fuck? I don't like that idea. I'm really beginning to like him.
Mum and dad like him too. What will we do if they find out about us? It won't happen. I need to be extra careful. We're starting back at school on Thursday, so that gives me three more school holidays to try and see him before it'll be almost impossible to spend some time with him on weekdays. I'm still going to have to ignore him when I'm going and coming from school. No way can I let on to the others that there's something between us. I wish I'd told him now that I'll have to ignore him. But maybe I can tell him tomorrow, or Tuesday or Wednesday. I wish he was here now, making my bum squelch as he rubs his knob around my hole. I like that sound. It's probably like a proper fucking sound like when a bloke fucks a woman. It's dead sexy. Can I do it now? What can I use to do it? I can use my hairbrush handle, the long polished wooden one that mum bought as a dressing table set from an antique fair. It's nice and shiny and smooth, and it isn't as wide as Jezza's cock. I left it in the bathroom.
Mum and dad are in bed and are probably asleep, so I quietly open the bedroom door and go to the bathroom opposite mum's and dad's room. Just as I'm getting there, I hear them. Because they're talking almost normally, they must think I'm asleep, and because I'm naked and I don't want them to see me like this if one of them should come out of their bedroom, I turn to go back to mine when I hear mum say, "Do you think he will?"
"I'm not sure," dad replies. "We can ask him. Oscar likes him, so there won't be a problem there I don't think. I think Oscar likes him as much as you do."
Mum chuckles. "Not in the same way I hope."
They both started giggling, and then dad says, "Maybe he's gay and likes boys. That would shoot you down in flames."
Mum amused voice is louder now. "I'd given that some thought. He came on strong at Oscar at the party, and I don't think it was all one way. Oscar hasn't missed a chance of being with him since then. We need to keep an eye on them."
"Are you getting jealous," dad asks.
There are some muffled sounds as if they're kissing, and then mum replies, "I might be. Mind you, I wouldn't blame Oscar if he's that way inclined. He's dead sexy is Jezza."
Dad begins to laugh so loud that I think mum puts her hand in front his mouth, because I hear his laughter become stifled, and then mum says, "Shhhh, you fool! You'll wake Oscar up!" After a short silence, she says, "I'll go and make sure he's asleep."
I almost panic, but I try to be as quiet as I can as I tiptoe at speed back to my bedroom and get into bed as quickly as I can. But mum doesn't come directly to me, she uses the bathroom first, and then I see the light from the landing light up my bedroom when she opens the door and comes in. I'm lying on my belly with my head turned away from her when she sits on the bed and begins to stroke my hair. I hear her whisper, "Are you asleep, darling?" I ignore her, and pretend to be asleep. Then she bends down and kisses the back of my neck. I think she's going to go away then, but she doesn't. Instead, I feel the duvet being pulled down my back, and then her soft hand stroking it all over. I'm shaking with nerves, and I almost let out a squeal when she goes lower and her hand strokes my bum cheeks. I'm not sure if the sickness I feel is because it's mum doing this, or because, despite the fact that it's mum doing this to me, I can't stop my cock getting really hard, and I'm more than relieved that it's sticking up my belly where she can't get to it when she slips her hand between my thighs and strokes my balls. She tries to get even further under, but I press down to make sure she can't. I move my head a bit and make a small moan as if I'm not quite asleep, and she withdraws her hand quickly, pulls the duvet up, and I think she's about to go when I hear dad come into the room and I feel him sit on the bed next to mum. Then I hear mum ask, "Do you want to look at him?"
He must have nodded, because again I feel the duvet moving off my body, right down this time so it's well below my bum. That's when I feel dad's rough hand on me, stroking my back and bum and legs. And then I hear him whisper, "He's beautiful. He's almost a man now. Look at how he's filling out. God... I love him!" Then he pulls the duvet back up, and whispers, "Come on. Let our little beauty get some sleep."
When they've gone and closed the door behind them, leaving me in darkness, I turn back over and lie for a while getting my breath back. But I'm still shaking from the experience. I was just at the point where I thought they might try to get at my cock when dad said to leave me alone. Thank God they didn't turn me over or they would have seen that it was hard. That would have been horrible. More than horrible. I think I would have screamed at them to get out and never touch me again for as long as I lived. But it was dad who saved me. Mum had gone further than dad. She felt at my balls, and tried to get at my cock. Oh Christ! Is that how all women are? I'd caught them in their bedroom talking about sex in a way that I never thought my parents would do, and I'd been shocked by it. I've never thought of mum and dad as being sexual before, but I'm now beginning to realize how stupid I am. They're as old as Jezza, and he's a really sexy sod. Being my mum and dad doesn't make them not sexy. It's me who's stupid, and not them. But they aren't right in the head. They were talking about mum having sex with Jezza as if it was something normal! Yuck! He wouldn't do that to my mum? Would he? Yuck! No way! But what were they on about when they were talking about asking him to do something? They mentioned me, and dad said, `Oscar likes him, so there won't be a problem there I don't think.' What are they doing? Are they grooming me and Jezza to have sex with mum? And another thing, they've noticed what's going on with me and Jezza. Well, they think something is going on. They're not sure if Jezza is gay or not. That means we've got to be even more careful. What if they do find out? Mum said she wouldn't blame me if I did think Jezza was sexy if I was that way inclined. But I don't think they need bother any more. I'm not interested in sex. It's horrible. It turns people into monsters. Even my mum and dad are no different than those people in the porn magazine. They're sick. Jezza's sick, but I won't be sick like them. It isn't like that for me. I won't do those things. Well, not anymore I won't. It's sick! Yuck!
********** ********** ********** ********** **********
Jeremy Foster.
I put the theodlite in the back of the orange Land Rover and set off for the east end of the project to take some levels. I'm not in the best frame of mind, mostly because it's Thursday 6th of January now and Oscar hasn't contacted me since Sunday. It's been a wall of deafening silence from him, which is worrying me to death. He was absolutely fine when he left me after we'd had sex late Sunday night, and I full expected him to phone me some time on Monday from the village phone box to arrange another meet. I've been checking my mobile all week to see if I've got any missed calls, but he certainly hasn't rung this number. It's his first day back at school today, and I was absolutely cursing my luck when the site agent arranged for a meeting at 7.30 am and it was still going on when I knew Oscar would be walking past my caravan to catch the school bus with his pals. Not that I could have done much, but at least I would have been able to see him and know he wasn't ill. I've been to the pub for a few late pints every night since Sunday, but Ted hasn't been in. I even asked the landlord, Bill Travis, last night, if he'd seen Ted, and he said he'd seen him at lunch when he called for a swift half pint on his way to a job, so nothing can be too serious because Ted would have told Bill if Oscar was really ill or something out of the ordinary had happened. These village folk don't keep secrets when one of their own is in trouble or ill.
So perhaps Oscar is pissed off with me for some reason. Why he should be I haven't a clue. He was all for us meeting again as soon as possible. But he hasn't even tried to contact me, and that's really what's worrying me. And I just know something is wrong, somewhere. Because I haven't seen Ted either, my biggest worry is that he's found out about me and Oscar. That would explain things. Oh... shit!
**********
Four o' clock in the afternoon and I'm standing in my caravan, peering through the net curtains. The school bus has just passed and dropped the kids off. Will Oscar be on it? I can't go out and greet him. That would give the game away to his pals, but I do need to see if he's alright. And then I see him, and I know immediately that he's not his usual exuberant self. He's sort of hunched up, and as he passes my caravan, I can tell by his body language that he's avoiding looking at my home like the plague. It's not a nonchalant, ignoring me to stop his pals finding out about us; it's a definite rejection of me. My heart feels like lead, and I'm lost. I watch him walking away, and just once he glances back at the caravan, but it's just a quick peek of dismissal; a look of disgust on his face. Now I know something is wrong, and all the joy in my life vanishes like piss holes in the snow. I've been rejected, and I don't know why I have.
**********
Friday night. I'm as nervous as hell. I've seen Oscar twice today, when he was on his way to school, and when he was coming home. On both occasions I got the same treatment I got on Thursday afternoon. Oscar doesn't want to know me... and maybe I'll soon find out why. It's Friday night: darts night at the pub, and Ted will be there. If I am in the shit... I'll soon know about it.
**********
As soon as I see Ted and the broad grin on his face when he sees me, I know there's nothing wrong between us. He's sitting with two other locals; Tony and Mark, and I tip my hand up to signal whether they want a drink or not. All three nod, so I go to the bar and get four pints of ale in, and when a member of the bar staff has served me, I go to the table and spread the drinks out. I sit directly opposite Ted at the four-person, circular table, and ask if everyone is well. They all affirm that they are, and then Mark deals the cards out so we can play cribbage. It's what we always do on a Friday nights until the darts game starts. It's all small talk at first, and I'm listening for the slightest hint from Ted that things are not well, but he's his usual exuberant self, and no mention of Oscar. I'm puzzled. I expected something to be wrong, but there isn't, and I decide not to pursue my thoughts and wait until something develops. In fact, apart from thanking Ted for Sunday dinner and saying what a good time I had with him and Michelle and Oscar, I don't mention Oscar again.
Despite his one eye, Ted's in the darts team, and he's damned good player, winning all his games: singles and doubles. In the end, The Jolly Roger team wins the game easily, which is the signal for pints of celebration. By this time we've flitted onto the long, red, leather bench seat along the back wall of the bar: Ted and I sitting together... a typical Friday night here. After a while we get talking about the party, and then the topic changes to the meal we shared on Sunday, and I ask if my being there didn't disturb the family day.
Ted laughs to scoff at my silliness. "Don't be daft. We enjoyed having you. You're becoming part of the family since New Year's Eve. Michelle thinks you're a proper gentleman, and Oscar thinks the sun shines out of your arse. Mind you, I don't know what the hell is wrong with that boy. He's been like a bear with a sore head since Monday."
I try to laugh. "He's a teenager. They don't know whether they're coming or going at times. What's up with him?"
"I'm not sure. He got up on Monday morning and hardly spoke to us, and he's been like that all week. I've asked him what's wrong, but all I get is a grunt. Michelle says it's his hormones. I'm ready to kick his arse at the moment." Then he laughs. "Maybe he's in love and some lass has told him to piss off. Have you seen him since Sunday night?"
I do laugh properly this time, but more from relief than amusement. "No. Not seen hide nor hair of him apart from a couple of times he's been on his way to and from school with his pals. I could have spoken to him, but I'm not sure it would do his street cred any good if his pals saw him talking to an old bloke."
Ted grins. "For God's sake Jezza, don't ruin his street cred! That's all we'd need on top of his grumps. But I'm not sure his attitude is going to help when I ask you something."
"What's that, Ted?"
"I've got to go into hospital next Wednesday for another op on my face. I have to go to Birmingham, and Michelle wants to come up and stay over with me to save her travelling up every day. We've been talking about it, and we were going to ask you to keep an eye on Oscar for us while we're there. I'll be in until the following Tuesday, the surgeon says. They've got to reconstruct part of my cheek bone." He looks me in the face. "Well?"
I'm puzzled, and I'm sure it shows on my face when I ask, "What am I supposed to do?"
Ted shrugs his shoulders. "Just keep an eye on him for us. I'd send him to the mother-in-law, but I know he'll kick up a fuss if I ask him to go there. I've no doubt he'd stay on his own, but we wouldn't rest easy. He's thirteen, but that's not old enough to be left alone. You could come and stay at our place if it was no problem; use the place as your own, and come and go as you please just so long as you know Boyo isn't getting into any mischief."
"Have you asked Oscar if he'd be alright with that?"
"Not yet, and the mood he's in I'm not sure what his reaction will be. Trust him to have a hormonal fit just when we need his cooperation."
I laugh. "Do you want me to ask him?"
"Would you?"
"Of course. Ask him to pop down tomorrow night about five. I'll sort things so I've finished work by then."
"Thanks Jezza. I'll do that. He can call after tea when he takes the dog for a walk."
"Tell him to come and have tea with me. I'll do us a couple of Tesco lasagna ready meals. Does he like lasagna?"
"Loves it." Then Ted laughs. "Not sure about the Tesco ready meals though. Michelle usually makes it. He scoffs that down him like a pig." And then he adds, "If you manage to sort the miserable sod, you can come to dinner on Sunday and we'll all talk about it."
"Sounds good. Let's see how I go on with him. The young buggers are sometimes more open with strangers than they are with their parents. It's psychological." I laugh. "Especially if he's got women problems. No way will he talk to you about those."
********** ********** ********** ********** **********
Oscar Lewis.
No school, so I have a lie-in on Saturday morning and I'm playing with my cock and thinking about the shit that's peed me off. I've seen Jezza a few times this week, but I can't bring myself to even look at him. But why am I taking it out on Jezza? He's done nothing wrong. But he's an adult, and they're all the same. All they think about is sex and having it off with anybody. He's almost fucked me. I know I wanted it, but it's not the same thing. He wants to fuck me because all he's interested in is having sex with a kid. But is it? I like Jezza, a lot, but I don't love him. He says he loves me, but is he saying that because he wants to fuck me? I'm not sure. I've heard dad say that a drunken man always speaks the truth. Jezza was drunk when he said he loved me. So perhaps he really does. He did say that he'd never touch me if I didn't want to be touched, and apart from what he did when I took him home when he was drunk, whatever's happened has always been because I wanted it. But he told me that's how it would be. And he's not bothered me on the way to school. He must be worried that I'm ignoring him. But I don't know what to say to him. How can I talk about mum wanting to have sex with him, or about how mum was feeling me up? That was horrible. At least dad just stroked my back and then said to leave me alone. He was being honest when he said I was beautiful, and that he loved me. He just stroked my bum. Mum didn't. She was after my cock. Yuck! No, I can't talk to anybody about that. But what am I going to do. I can't keep living like this. Perhaps it would be best if I ran away. But where could I go? I've got no money to speak of. No, I'm stuck. Shit!
But I've still got a hard cock. It just won't go down. I need a wank to get rid of it. I'll think about Peter Childs in year six. I'd like him to shove his cock up my bum like Jezza did.
He's on top of me, holding my legs on my chest and his big cock is pushing at my hole. It slips in, and I feel it going deeper. Oh God! That's fantastic. Push! Push! That's it... right in Peter! Oh God! He's kissing me now. I can smell him. Yuck! He smokes, and he stinks! I don't want that! Fuck off Peter! I want Jezza, not you! Jezza can do it better. He knows how to make me feel really sexy. He kisses my tits and sucks on them, and he kisses my neck and my hole before he puts his cock up me. Jezza knows how to treat a boy properly. That's it Jezza... lick my bum like you did before, Shove your tongue up while I'm wanking. Oh God! That's it Jezza! Oh Jezza! Oh Jezza! Ohhhh... ohhhhh... ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhhhh.
**********
"Oscar, I was talking to Jezza last night. He says he wants you to go to tea tonight at his place. Lasagne he's got in for you."
I look at dad, and wonder what he's on about. "Tea?"
"Yes... tea! Or are you becoming posh these days and it's dinner? Five o' clock he said. He's got something to talk about, and he thought it would be better speaking at his place."
I'm really puzzled now, and I have to pretend that I don't know Jezza well enough to have tea with him. "But I hardly know him!"
Dad glares at me. "Don't be so bloody awkward. I don't know what's got into you this week! Of course you know him. You two got on like a house on fire at the New Year's Eve party, and at Sunday dinner. Just bloody go will you! You can kill three birds with one stone. Mum's baking a fruit cake for him today, so you can take that, and you can take the dog for a walk at the same time, and then you can have tea with Jezza. I'd talk to you, but all you've done is cut me dead all week. You're like a bear with a sore arse!" I can see dad is angry, so I don't argue, especially when he gets out of the lounge chair and storms off, yelling, "Just bloody do as you're told... will you!"
**********
I'm nervous as hell as me and Jack walk to Jezza's place. I've got a carrier bag full of fruit cake and mince pies, and a large slice of mum's meat and potato pie and a jam jar full of gravy to pour over it. All the lights are on, and I can see he's in because his car is parked next to the caravan. I pull Jack to the steps, and knock on the door. Almost immediately, Jezza opens it and looks down at me. He grins. "Come in mate. I've got the fire on for Jack."
********** ********** ********** ********** **********
Jeremy Foster.
Oscar can hardly look at me when he comes into the caravan with his dog, and because I've decided not to hassle him about what's going on in his head, I let him do his own thing. He unleashes Jack, takes off his overcoat, and looks at me questioningly. I point to the coathooks. "Hang it up. Are you hungry?" He shrugs his shoulders, and hangs his coat on a hook. I point to the sofa, and he sits down. The TV is on, so I point to the remote by his side. "Change the channel if you want. I was watching the football results. I'll warm these lasagnas up in the microwave. You like lasagna do you? (He nods.) Good. It will be about fifteen minutes. Do you want a Coke or something? (He nods.) I'll get you one. Keep the dog off the furniture." (He gets up and clicks his fingers by the fire, and Jack settles down in front of it.) He's wearing a heavy woolen pullover, so I suggest he takes it off. He ignores me and watches the TV. So I ignore him and begin to prepare the meals. Once I've put them in the microwave, I pour him a large glass of ice cold Coke from the fridge and place it on the glass occasional table in front of him. Then I ask him, "Shall we eat it on our knees, or do you want to go to the table?"
He mumbles. "I'll have it here."
I almost chuckle that I've got him to speak, but I don't. Whatever is on his mind will have to come out slowly. My first job is to get him to relax.
**********
"You drink too much!"
I'm relieved. Those are the first words he's volunteered since he arrived, and it's taken him the entire time for me to warm the meals up and both of us eat them before he's done that. I smile at him while I'm sipping at a bottle of Brown Ale. "Don't you like me drinking?"
He shrugs his shoulders. "Please yourself. If it makes you feel better."
"Why should I need to feel better? What have I done wrong that I need to make myself feel better? Are you regretting that we met now?" (He shrugs his shoulders.) We're together on the sofa, and I want to lift an arm and invite him for a cuddle, but I decide it's not the moment for that. I need to wheedle out of him what's troubling him, but I have to go careful or he'll walk out on me. But it is time for me to get to the bottom of whatever is wrong, so I ask him, "Have I done something wrong, Oscar? If I have, tell me I have, and I'll try to put it right. But I can't put anything right if I don't know what's wrong. I know you've been ignoring me all week, but I can't for the life of me think of anything that I've done that you didn't want. And we need to get to the bottom of it, or your dad will have to make different arrangements."
For the first time since he arrived, Oscar looks directly at me. "What arrangements?"
"Hasn't he told you? He's going into hospital in Birmingham next week for an operation on his face, and your mum wants to go with him. He's asked me to keep an eye on you because he says you won't want to go to your grandmother's."
"Keep an eye on me?"
"He said I should stay with you while they're away, but if you don't want my company any more, then I'll have to tell him that I won't do it. As I say, I don't know what I've done wrong, but if you've decided, for whatever reason, that it's over between us, then it's a no-go. Do you want to tell me what's bugging you? Do you think I've taken advantage of you? I told you that I'd never do anything that you didn't want to do, and I honestly thought that what we've done is what you wanted. I'm sorry if it isn't, Oscar. I really am. I'd never hurt you."
I can see I'm getting to him, because his face twists and he tries to hold back the tears. Then he mumbles, "It isn't you. It's them!"
Although I don't like what I'm hearing, I'm very relieved to know I'm not the cause of his problems, and I decide to take a chance. So I lift an arm, and say, "Come here." He looks me in the eyes through his tearful ones, unsure what to do, so I repeat, "Come here. I won't bite. Just come here and relax for a minute. I can see you're upset."
He bursts in to a flood of tears, scoots quickly across to me, and folds into my arms with his arm wrapped tightly around my chest.
**********
Fifteen minutes later and he's still folded tightly in my arms, and through a bucket load of tears and much wailing, he's unloaded everything to me. It wasn't pleasant listening to the exaggerated catastrophe in his young mind, but I heard him out with just a few promptings and lots of sympathetic platitudes. I'm not surprised he thinks it's the end of the world, but I think I can pull him through this without too much damage. The first thing I need to do is put things in perspective, and when I'm sure he's ready, I kiss the top of his head, and say, "Oscar, I can understand how you're feeling, but will you listen to me if I try to explain all this lot away? Trust me... I think I can explain things to you."
He lifts his head, and there's venom in his eyes when he blurts out, "Did your mum ever feel you up?!"
I shake my head. "No, but I think I can explain why she did it, and it isn't what you think."
He looks puzzled. "How can you explain my mum trying to feel me up?!"
I stroke his hair back from his forehead, and then look into his beautiful, teary eyes. "Will you hear me out? I'm pretty sure I know why she did it, and it isn't what you think. She wasn't after sex, Oscar."
"Of course she was! She was trying to feel at my cock!"
"I know she was, but not because she wanted sex. It's how mums work. You see, Oscar, you're still her baby boy. Do you understand?"
"No. I'm thirteen now! I'm not a baby anymore!"
I smile at him, and draw him back into me and talk over his head. "You'll always be your mum's baby, Oscar... and she did that because she hasn't quite let you grow up yet. I know what she was doing; she was doing what she always done since you were first born. Since you were born, she's fondled her baby. Everywhere. Yes, even there. It's what happens when mums have babies. They adore their little ones, and while they're growing up, one of a mother's pleasures is watching how their babies are developing. They can see you changing from a little baby into an adult, and when you become an adult, it's a tremendous wrench for them to let go. They don't want to lose their babies, and part of that not wanting to lose you is for them to be able to fondle the child they love. I don't think your mum was right to do what she did, but I understand why she did it. It was probably the last chance in her life for her to take one last fondle of her precious baby before she knew she could never do it again; one last stroke of your beautiful young body; one last feel at your genitals before they create another human being; one last time, Oscar, and your mum just couldn't resist. But she wasn't doing it for sexual reasons, and that's what you've got to understand. And just to show you that I'm right, your dad had his last feel at you too. He didn't go as far as your mum, but he wanted to caress his baby without inhibitions one last time. So we have to work out why they did it now."
Oscar lifts his head again, and stares at me. "Why did they do it now?"
I lean down and rub my lips softly along his. "Because I think they know."
He looks puzzled. "Know what?"
"About you and me. Well, the you and me bit isn't important with what we're talking about, but the fact that you're becoming a proper adult is. Do you know what I mean?"
"No. What do you mean?"
Again I kiss him softly. "Even though they don't know for sure, they suspect that you may be involved with me. Probably not sexually, but emotionally they can see that you're attracted to me. They probably think you're far too young to get involved that way, but that doesn't mean that they don't understand that when a boy is becoming an adult, he'll have emotions about other people. It doesn't matter that it's me; the same thing would have happened in their minds if you'd had a crush on a girl. You're an only child, and you're growing up and they're losing you. That's why they both wanted to fondle their baby. Now do you understand?"
Oscar is quiet for a while as he rests his head on my chest again. I give him space to think by just kissing his hair while he does. It's important that he's comfortable in my arms while he digests what I've told him. But I know there are more questions to come. And I'm not wrong when, after a while he lifts his head, and asks, "But what about you and mum?"
I grin at him. "Because she fancies me? (He nods.) There's nothing wrong with fancying someone. The nice thing is that your mum and dad can talk about it. To them it's a bit of fun. Can I ask you a question? (He nods.) Now you're growing up and know what you want sexually, is there anybody else except me that you'd like to do things with?"
For the first time since he arrived, Oscar grins. "Yes. Peter Childs. He's in year six."
I pretend to sob. "You rotten sod. You're breaking my heart now! You double-crosser!"
Oscar laughs. "I was thinking about him in bed this morning."
More pretend tears from me. "You rotten devil! I'm the only one who you should be thinking about in bed! I'll bet he's not as good in bed as me!"
Oscar is positively chuckling now, and he gurgles, "I was thinking about him, and then I changed to thinking about you because Peter smokes." Then he becomes serious and strokes my face. "I could smell beer on you, and that made me feel really sexy."
I kiss him softly on the lips. "You said I drink too much."
He returns the kiss. "I didn't mean it." He stares right into my eyes. "I like you when you've been drinking. You're dead sexy when you've been drinking."
I kiss him again, put my hand on the crotch of his jeans, and stroke his hardness. He firms the kiss, and pushes his hips at me. I stroke him some more; squeezing his knob through the fabric of his jeans. His mouth opens, and the kiss becomes a wet, passionate one. Then I feel his hand on my own jeans, searching for my dick. He finds it, and grips it tightly. I break the kiss and stare into the emerald eyes that have captivated me. "Shall we go to bed?"
For an answer, he climbs onto me, straddles my legs, wraps his arms around my neck, and stares into my eyes. I can see the lust in him before he opens his sweet lips and buries his mouth on mine, our lips and tongues going crazy as we come together in a moment of passion that leaves us both breathless. Then he gets off the sofa, grabs my hand and pulls me up, wraps his arms around my neck, and again we kiss madly. Then he breaks the kiss and turns around in my arms, pushing his bum back into me while I kiss his neck and tell him that I love him. His hands come up and grasp my head, pulling me harder into the kiss, and he moans softly when I reach down and undo the zip of his jeans, slip my hands inside and under his underpants, and roll his hard dick around in my hand. I would have liked to have undone his jeans, pushed them and his underpants down, and fucked him there and then, but I want to make this night very special for my boy. He's been emotionally savaged for a week, and now it's time to heal the wounds, so I take his hand and lead him to the bedroom.
********** ********** ********** ********** **********
Oscar Lewis.
I've never felt so comfortable as I lie wrapped in Jezza's arms. We're both still naked, but the sex part is over. It's been fantastic, even more so because of how he explained things away that had been bothering me and I was able to enjoy the sex without thinking about that. When we first got in the bedroom, I started taking my clothes off, but he stopped me and asked if he could do it. I let him, and he took them off slowly, kissing my body everywhere as soon as it was available. It was lovely just being loved and not straight into the mad sex I wanted. But the moment he'd undressed me and kissed my cock, I couldn't stop the feelings coming right away. Then he undressed and got on the bed with me, and we cuddled for ages before we started again. This time he went right to my bum and kissed it, and put his tongue up me. He was at it for ages, and I just lay back and let him do what he wanted. He even put three pillows under my bum so he could get to me easier, and I just lay back with my knees on my chest while he kissed and sucked my bum and put his tongue up me. Then he sucked me off again, and it was better than the first time.
After he'd brushed his teeth and gargled, he came back and we kissed and talked for ages. We spent a lot of time laughing about sexy stuff. I asked him if he'd had any more boys besides me, but he told me to mind my own business, and that if he had he'd never love anybody as much as he loved me. He said it was my eyes that he was in love with. When he said that, I asked him why he was bothering with my cock and bum. He took a swig of his beer, and said that my body was like treacle pudding; lovely and sweet, and it left a delicious taste in the back of his throat. Then he really made me laugh when he said he couldn't wait for me to make lots of spunk so I would taste even sweeter. I decided to be really cheeky and said that I'd pee in his mouth if that would help him out. He just giggled, and called me kinky, but said that if peeing in his mouth turned me on, then I was welcome to use him as a lavatory. That had us both rolling about the bed laughing. That's what's good about me and Jezza... it's fun as well as sexy.
Then he asked me about Peter Childs in year six, and he wanted to know if I'd had a date with him. Again I decided to tease him, so I told him that I hadn't, but I was working on it. Jezza turned the tables on me by suggesting we use his bedroom if I wanted to. Talking about sex made me want it again, so this time I just rolled on my belly and said he could have me if he wanted.
He did want me. We went through the same procedure we did last time; Jezza putting Vaseline in my hole and on his cock, and working it around my bum hole until it slipped inside me again. I know Jezza really likes this, so I rolled my bum a lot to make the feelings better for him, and I reached under and grabbed his balls to pull him into me, which made his cock go in further than the last time, and it was lovely when I felt him spurting his spunk up me. That's when I realized that making Jezza feel nice is part of why I like doing stuff with him. I get a sort of satisfaction knowing my body is making him feel so good. He absolutely loves my body, so I gave it to him, and my reward is feeling him coming inside me while he tells me how much he loves me. When it was all over, he embarrassed me by saying that he needed to teach me how to keep clean if I was going to be gay. I nearly protested that I wasn't gay, but then I realized it would be stupid considering what was happening between us.
But even that part he made fun for us. Because only he uses this caravan, he had it adapted when it was new so there's just one bedroom and not the three it was designed for, and that means he has a large bedroom and a large bathroom with shower and bath and toilet. When he took me into it, he said I was to squat on the toilet and empty as much out of me that would come out. He left me to it, so I did, including some poo, but it was hard and not the stinky stuff. When I'd wiped my bum and flushed the toilet and sprayed the bathroom with air freshener, he came back in with a large bowl of soapy water and placed it in the bath. Then he got a contraption out with a rubber hose on it and told me to sit on the bath with my bum over the edge. He made me giggle when he said it would make me cum again unless I did as I was told, and that this was a time for cleaning and not sex. He turned on both taps so they were running slowly and the water was draining away, leaned round me, pushed the tube up my bum, and kept squirting warm, soapy water up me. At first it was a strange feeling, but then I began to like it, especially when he pushed the tube further and further up my bum. To do that, he told me to pretend I was having a poo and to push out. He did it four times until just soapy water was coming out of me, and then he dried me with a warm towel.
**********
It's half past eight; we're both dressed again and sitting on the sofa in the lounge, watching TV when I ask Jezza if I should be going back home. He shrugs his shoulders, and says, "If you think it's best?"
I pull a face. "I don't want to go home. I want to stay with you."
He pulls me tighter into him. "We can't do that. Next week we can, when I'm babysitting you."
I giggle. "I'm not a baby."
Jezza chuckles. "Let's not go there again. No you're not. Babies don't do what you've done tonight."
I look up at him, and grin. "Have I tired you out?"
He laughs. "No. It will take more than a little squirt like you to wear me out."
I roll over onto him, straddle his legs, stare into his eyes, and then kiss him. "Wanna bet?"
He pinches my nose. "Best you go before they suspect anything."
I look right into his eyes, and ask, "What shall I say if they ever accuse us of doing stuff?"
"You pretend to be really angry, and tell them not to be so disgusting. Trust me, once you've done that, and if you pretend to be really angry, they'll never ask you again. The only time they'll ever find out about us is if they catch us at it. That's why we have to be so careful. We can bluff our way through anything they're not sure about, but if we get caught in the act, it will be all over. So, if they ever do hint at it, make sure you're really disgusted with them for even suggesting it. I'll do the same, but more subtly than you. I'll pretend that I understand their concerns, but then put them at ease by saying you're just attracted to me emotionally... much like you would a favourite uncle." I see a twinkle in Jezza's eyes when he adds, "I'll play your mum and dad at their own game by pretending I fancy your mum, and not little boys."
I stare into the blue eyes for a while, and then ask, "Do you fancy mum?"
He stares back at me. "Do you really want to go there after what you've just been through?"
I nod. "Yes... I need to know."
Jezza kisses me softly on the lips, and then strokes my face. "Your mum's very beautiful and I'm not all gay, and she has eyes just like you. So, yes I do. But I won't go there." He shakes his head. "Not now."
I'm puzzled. "What do you mean by not now?"
His hand on my face caresses me harder. "Not now I've got you. I wouldn't do that to you. That would be horrible. And your dad's becoming one of my best friends, so that's double the reason why I wouldn't. So put your mind at rest. It aint gonna happen. Now what about you?"
"Me?"
"Uhuh! You and Peter Childs out of year six. Do you really fancy having sex with him?"
I nod. "I would if he didn't smoke. Does that bother you?"
Jezza smiles, and shakes his head. "You're growing into an adult. I know you don't love me like I love you, so I expect you'll have crushes on other boys. I might be jealous if you went with another bloke. In fact I'd stop seeing you if you did."
I pull a face at him. "Would you really?"
He nods. "Yes. Other boys are fine, and if you dumped me for another boy, I'd understand and let you get on with it, but another man is out of the question. Not only would I be hurt, but it would become far too complicated. What we're doing is dangerous enough, but it would be more than twice as dangerous if you became known for going with men." Then he says something that does hurt me inside. "When I'm gone, you can do as you like, but until then I want you to promise me that you won't go with another bloke."
It's the `when I'm gone' bit that hurts me. I don't love Jezza like he loves me, but I'm more than comfortable with him. It's like he says... he's become a sort of favourite uncle who I can have fun with and talk about things that I can't talk to mum and dad about, and my lower lip has dropped when I say, "I don't want you to go."
He smiles and brushes my face with the back of his hand. "You'll be fifteen by the time I leave here, so there's no telling what will happen between now and then. Let's just enjoy what we've got, and the future will look after itself."
I'm still not satisfied, so I ask, "Do your other boys still miss you?"
"Other boys?"
"You know... the ones you've done this with before. Do they still keep in touch with you? Have you got any photographs of them?"
"Yes. I'll show them to you one day. But not now. It's getting late, and you need to be going home."
"What about I stop for supper?"
"Supper?"
I nod. "Yes. I'm hungry again. We can have that meat and potato pie mum made for you. Can I use your phone and ring mum up and tell her I'm stopping for supper?"
"Are you sure this is wise?"
I giggle. "You worry too much. Let me speak to mum or dad."
He shrugs his shoulders, and points to the mobile phone that's on the glass table. "You'd better make it convincing if you don't want them to start thinking something is going on."
I grin at him, get off the sofa, and go to his collection of videos that he has stacked up by the TV. I search through them, and pick one out: Saving Private Ryan. I hold it up. I'll tell them we're watching this."
Jezza laughs. "It's almost three hours long. Choose a shorter one."
I lick my tongue out at him. "I know how long it is. I've seen it before at my mates, but they don't know that. That's why I'll say I want to watch this one. Leave it to me."
Jezza shrugs his shoulders. Then he looks at Jack, who's watching me. "Doesn't he need to go for a walk?"
I nod. "I'll take him for a walk while you're heating the pie and gravy."
Jezza grins. "You've got an answer for everything. Just be careful what you say to them."
Mum answers the phone, and asks me where I am. I laugh at her. "At Jezza's of course! Where do you think I am?"
"And have you enjoyed tea?" she asks.
"Yes mum. And we've watched some TV. And Jezza says he'll stay at our house when dad goes into hospital next week. Can I speak to dad?"
I can tell mum is happy by how she says, "Of course you can sweetheart. I'll pass you over to him."
When dad answers the phone, I say, "Hi dad. Will it be okay if I stay at Jezza's for a while longer. We're going to have supper of that meat and potato pie and gravy that mum sent. And Jezza says I can watch Saving Private Ryan if you say it's okay. But it's almost three hours long, and he says I've got to ask you first. Can I?"
Dad laughs. "Isn't he fed up with you and your grumps yet?"
I laugh. "That's sorted. Sorry dad."
"What was up with you then?"
"I don't want to talk about it. Jezza says he'll tell you tomorrow at the pub."
"Can I speak to Jezza?" dad asks.
"Okay. But let me stay and watch the film... pleassssse dad!"
"Put Jezza on the phone."
I hand the phone to Jezza. "Dad wants to talk to you."
Jeza takes the phone from me, and I listen to him talking to dad. He's really laid back as he talks, and I can get the gist of some of what he's saying and what dad is asking him when Jezza says in his part of the conversation, "He's fine now. - - - He's just got hold of the wrong end of the stick, but I don't blame him. I would probably have done the same in his circumstances. - - - I'll explain it all to you tomorrow when I see you in the pub. - - - No, I don't mind him staying to watch the film, but if you want him home, then I'll pack him off now - - - No, he's no trouble - - - He'll be late back. The film is a long one. - - - He's going to take the dog for a walk while I warm the supper up. - - - I'll tell him. An extra half hour isn't going to make much difference. It will be past midnight anyway. - - - No, I've enjoyed his company. (Jezza laughs.) He hasn't had the teenage grumps with me. - - - I'll send him home then. He'll be with you in about fifteen minutes if he's in his usual racing mode."
When Jezza breaks the call, I'm puzzled when I ask him, "Have I got to go home?"
Jezza grins. "Your dad says to take the dog home, and then you can come back to watch the film."
"Why?"
Jezza shrugs his shoulders. "I suppose they just want to see you to make sure you're alright. I would think taking the dog back is just an excuse for that reason. It won't take you long, and psychologically it's better if your visit is broken up into two parts rather than a marathon six or seven hours." He taps the side of his head. "Think about things like that. It's how we're going to have to work in the future if we want to keep us a secret. This way it's like two visits instead of one, which means that we only have half the time to get into mischief if you know what I mean. It's the little things that matter. Now sod off and take the dog home. And don't be too enthusiastic either. Okay?"
********** ********** ********** ********** **********
Jeremy Foster.
Twenty five minutes after Oscar left, the mobile phone rings. This time, because I've saved Ted's number, I know who's calling. "Hello Ted."
"Hey up Jezza. He's just started on his way back to you. I thought you might like to fill me in with what's been troubling him before he gets to you, and it will save us going through it in the pub."
Leaving absolutely nothing out except what Oscar and are to each other, I spend ten minutes telling him everything, and when I'm done, I say, "It took me almost an hour to get that out of him, and then he was breaking his heart while he was telling me. As I say, he'd got the wrong end of the stick, but on this occasion I can't really blame him. He's not old enough yet to understand these things. Some adults wouldn't be able to work it out, never mind an impressionable kid. What do you think?"
I hear Ted sigh. "I think it's a good job we've got you. God knows what would have happened if he hadn't been able to talk to you. He could have carried that in his head all his life and we would never have known. Thanks, Jezza. Are you sure this is no problem to you? I don't want your life stifled by Oscar taking up all your time."
I breathe an inward sigh of relief that things are going so well, and I laugh when I say, "He's not a problem to me. I get fed up to the back teeth on most jobs, so he's keeping me on my toes. He's a great little fella, and I enjoy his company. The cheeky sod said he was going to call me `Uncle Jezza' tonight. I told him I'd kick his arse if he did. Hasn't he got a favourite uncle he can unload to?"
"No. Michelle is an only child, and I've got two sisters. He won't confide in them." Ted laughs. "If they try and hug him or kiss him he goes all bullish and shoves them away. The only woman he hugs is his mum. As a matter of fact, he's just given her a great big one before he left."
I chuckle. "That's lovely. I'll bet Michelle is pleased."
"She's over the moon. But she'll be mortified when I tell her why he was so grumpy."
I think about what he's said before I reply, "She needs to get over it Ted. Quick! I've explained to Oscar how much she loves him, and he'll be expecting the same hugs as before. Whatever she does, she mustn't let this episode come between them. Obviously he needs to have his own space in his bedroom from now on, but a boy needs his mum's love. And a dad's, but a dad's is a different thing. Mums are for cuddling, and dads are for having fun with. Keep that balance right and all three of you will get through anything, and you'll never lose his love." My brain is in overdrive now, so I add, "He's a good lad, so give him space and trust him. All within reason of course, but he's growing up now and will push his boundaries big style. At the moment you're his role model. He thinks the world of you, and one day I'm sure he'll be working alongside you. He's going to be a big, brawny lad like his dad, so you'll have to be on your toes to make sure he doesn't turn the tables on you and he has you working for him."
Ted laughs loudly. "That will be the bloody day! Anyway, best we end this call before he finds out that we've been talking behind his back. We don't want him getting the grumps with you while you're watching the film."
I laugh. "Dead right, and I haven't warmed the pie and gravy yet. I'd best get to it before he's moaning at me. It's almost three hours long, so God knows what time he'll be back. But I'll make sure he gets home okay. I'll make an excuse that I need some fresh air and walk him back to your place. That way we can be sure he's safe. I'll see you in the pub tomorrow. Oh, and tell Michelle that she's got beautiful eyes and that I fancy her. You should have a good time in bed tonight then."
Ted's laughing like a lunatic when he breaks the call, so I sit back with a grin on my face and wait for Oscar to arrive. Two minutes later and he arrives, breathless, and he asks, "Haven't you warmed the pie up yet?"
I grin at him. "Won't be long. Put the film on."
He laughs. "We're not watching the film. I want to see if you can wear me out."
**********
Of all the boys I've had, Oscar's body is the sweetest of them all; the perfect age and development that turns me on. I'd say he's gone through a growth spurt about six months ago, and the muscles and sinews are adapting to his new height. When his stomach muscles are tensed, the definition of a six-pack is clearly visible, and when he's relaxed, the abdominal valleys that lead from above his hip bone to his loin are deep and inviting, culminating in a small sprinkling of dark pubic hair above his penis that sits perfectly in the centre of raised flesh that melds beautifully in an arc to form the rest of his pubic area. Below it, right now, his ballsac is relaxed, showing the size of his testicles, which are almost properly formed. I've no doubt that in another six months those testicles will be spurting white cream of youthful semen into my throat, and that thought excites me. I love the taste and texture of a pubescent boy's semen: it has a slight hint of sweetness without the saltiness of adulthood. There will be other essences in it; subtle tastes of musk and other minerals that develop life, and millions if not billions of live spermatozoa that is the very essence of what he is, and which excite me tremendously because I know I'm devouring the boy himself as I bring him to the dizzy heights of sexual satisfaction. Done properly and unselfishly, thinking only of his feelings and not my own, it will be an experience he'll want over and over again. Like now.
I know he's enjoying our moments of silent inspection, because while he lies fully compliant on his back, his hand is on my back, fondling the curves and muscles. Occasionally, his hand wanders up to my neck and onto my hair, pressing my head down when I get to a particular part of his body that's giving him special pleasure. I'm on a journey of discovery, seeking out his erogenous zones. Unless we're in moments of deep passion, he likes me to caress his lips with my own; touching tongues every now and again, but not deep penetration. He gathers saliva and feeds it to me when I'm on that particular journey, and I drink it eagerly. Then he likes me to nibble at his earlobes before sinking down to suck on his delicious neck that he opens for me to kiss and suck. That really turns him on, and is usually accompanied by low moans of desire, and without fail it's always followed by him pushing my head down to suckle his nipples. By the time I get to them, they're proud and erect... waiting; needing stimulation. And while I stimulate them with teeth and tongue and lips, I look down at his dick standing proud, legs apart, inner thighs like amorphous alabaster: all waiting their turn to be loved. But I have a way to go yet.
He has few erogenous zones on his belly, and I've spent only a few moment there exploring his innie belly button and curvaceous waist when I feel the pressure of his hand on the back of my head insistent that I go lower. I do, pushing his nail-hard dick downwards with my lips as I suck along its length, causing him to heave his body from the bed with sexual desire when my lips enclose the throbbing, skin-clad corona. I hear the sound of an alto moan escaping from his lips, and I know I have to not dwell there too long or the foreplay will be cut short as he climaxes. So I pull off it and press the throbbing member onto his belly as I go lower; onward to devour each testicle in turn; sucking very gently so as not to give him even the slightest hint of pain. He knows what's coming next, and I watch with satisfaction as he raises his left knee and lays his leg flat on the bed to the side, opening his inner thigh to my searching lips. I move slightly down the bed to take up a more comfortable position, and delve into the inviting, wide valley of more sexual delight; for him as well as me.
I suck on the now available, nebulous inner thigh, going deeper with each suckle until I can get my tongue on his perineum, which I follow almost to his anus. I hear and feel him draw in a deep breath as my tongue explores this area of delight, one of his most sensitive erogenous zones, but unless he lifts both legs, then I can't gain proper access to that puckered delight. But I don't want him to. That was done last time when I explored him and he was lying face down. This is a frontal sexual assault, and it's almost time to deliver the coup de grâce of supreme pleasure.
The alto moans are becoming higher pitched when I reverse direction and go back to his throbbing boyhood, and holding it very tightly at the base to pull his skin partly down off the pulsating knob, I enclose it in the hotness of my mouth and suck hard and furiously. His hips buck from the bed; his hands behind my head, and within a few seconds he makes one final, pulsating thrust deep into my mouth, and exhales like a steam engine before collapsing back on the bed, panting and moaning with sexual satisfaction.
This is always a critical time for a boy; that moment of aftershock and depression when he just wants to be left alone to recover. Boys don't want more fondling, nor inspection, nor interference, and that why I just rest my head on his belly and watch the after affects of a boy's climax. I watch his testicles slowly recover and slip back from the withdrawal position at the point of climax to settle back again in their protective sac. And then, again very slowly, his dick softens and slumps as the blood leaves it, finally settling on top of his ballsac. At rest; fulfilled, and I'm extremely happy that I've been the one to have pleasured this fantastic boy, not once, not twice, but three times since he returned to `watch the film'. I've not gone unrewarded. He insisted lying on his back with his knees on his chest for me to insert three inches into his rectum, holding my dick tightly with both hands while I fucked his tender hole and emptied the remainder of my manly juices deep inside him. And I can tell by his actions and the loving he gave me afterwards that it's given him pleasure to give me pleasure. Our loving is evolving wonderfully.
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Oscar Lewis.
On the last hundred yards to our house and because it's dark here and nobody can see us, I seek out Jezza's hand and hold it tightly. And when we get to our gate at the back of the house, again because we're in almost complete darkness, I grab him and hug him before he leaves me. He wraps me in his arms, and we kiss. Then I leave him and go into the house, which, apart from the kitchen light that's been left on, is in darkness.
Mum and dad have gone to bed. I'm not surprised. It is half past midnight. Jack, after he's given me a fuss, goes straight back to his basket, so I know he's been taken for a last walk. I go quietly to bed. There's no sound from mum's and dad's room, so I quietly close my bedroom door and strip naked. When I get in bed, I feel at my body; at the body Jezza adores. He loves it; he loves me. I'm his boy... his lover... and he's mine. All the mad stuff of the last week is gone now, and although I'm dead tired, I feel beautiful about myself. I've often felt guilty about my gay feelings before, but not now. Jezza is a fantastic person, a fantastic lover, and he's made me feel proud of what I am. Life is strange. When I saw him for the very first time, I knew there was just something about him that was attractive, but I didn't know then just how attracted I would become towards him. Although it will be a quick one, I'll be with him tomorrow when I take Jack for a walk, and then when he stays here to look after me I'll have more special loving like he's done to me today. I can't wait. Never in a million years could I have dreamed how beautiful it would be for an expert like Jezza to make love to you. He's amazing! Peter Childs in year six can fuck off. I've got a real man to love me now.
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.