Date: Sun, 7 May 2017 20:27:33 +0000
From: Zack McNaught <zackmcnaught@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Long, Long Weekend

Author's notes:

(1) All this is written in British English. Hence, arse (ass), willy
(penis), wank (masturbate), pants (underwear), fanny (vulva).

(2) This story is primarily about being human. There are some (hopefully
quite erotic) sexual situations, but this isn't a story about a man and a
boy getting it on, so if you're hoping for a romp between the sheets, I'm
afraid you'll be disappointed. It's a gentle story about youth, discovery
of one's self, and comradeship.

(3) If you enjoy this story, please donate to keep Nifty running, so that
you and I, and others like us can continue reading stories like this.

(4) Do please let me know what you think of my little tale.

Now, on with the story.


The Long, Long Weekend (Mb/11)

The first thing I really noticed about him, beyond the fact that he was a
boy and comfortably in my age of interest, was the glasses. They're really
fashionable these days: thick, square, black frames, of the type worn by
Superman when he's going incognito. Behind them, magnified by the powerful
lenses, his golden-hazel eyes looked larger than life. His blonde hair hung
down in a sweep across his forehead, and he habitually pushed aside the
bangs with his middle finger. Beyond that, well, he was
beautiful. Pale-skinned, slender-necked, a perfect button nose with just a
handful of feint freckles across the bridge of his nose, and an endearing
way of scrunching up the very same part of his anatomy, and pushing his
glasses a little higher. Maybe his front teeth were still a little large
for him, but that simply made him cuter.

His name was Aidan, which I'm sure is Irish, even though he wasn't. I think
his mother had an Irish grandparent, and wanted to think she was from the
Emerald Isle, but it was wishful thinking, to get away from the fact she
was in fact a posh lass from Hampshire. He was eleven when I met him, and
he was possessed of a certain intelligence and self-confidence I found
alluring. Usually they're bright but shy, or bolshy but thick as pig-shit,
but Aidan had personality and brains, and it showed in the way he greeted
me.

It was a strange handshake - a little limp at first, then strengthening, as
if he was was waiting for me to show my hand - and he looked me straight in
the eye.

"It's nice to meet you," he intoned, his voice still angelically high. Most
boys who try to act like grown-ups come off as complete tools. Aidan
somehow didn't. I was drawn to him, charmed by him in an instant.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Aidan," I responded, smiling down at him in a
way I hoped wasn't too patronising.

"Do you have wi-fi here?" he asked, unabashed, still looking me in the eye.

"Uh, yes. It's paid for as part of the rental. There's probably details on
the table down the hall."

"Thanks," he said, walking past me with a confident stride.

I turned back to his parents - my cousin, Andrew, and Aidan's biological
mother, Clare, who'd recently become part of the family.

"I'm sorry about him, Zack," Clare said. "You know what boys that age are
like."

"Of course, it's fine. He was at least polite enough to say hello before he
asked for the wi-fi. Some of them don't even get that far."

Clare smiled her thanks for my forgiving assessment of her son's attitude,
and she and Andrew shuffled past and up the stairs to the room which would
be theirs for the weekend.

Another few guests arrived, and all the time I greeted them, all I could
think about was Aidan, and the piercing look he'd given me. There was
something special about the boy, and I was determined to find out more. I
glanced through the window out over the front garden, and there he was on
one of the benches, with his phone held up close to his face, swiping
through some app or other. I shook my head to clear it of thoughts of him,
and returned to the job of greeting party guests.

It was going to be one hell of a long weekend. My parents had been married
for twenty-five years, and they were determined to celebrate in style. It
seemed as though almost all of our relatives had been invited, and a good
many of them had said `yes'. We'd hired a venue with thirty rooms, and
caterers to provide the food, and for a weekend at least we were acting
like landed gentry in our stately home. I asked dad how he'd paid for it,
and he muttered something about stock options, then insisted that it really
wasn't anything at all, and then changed the subject as quickly as
possible. It was clear he didn't want me knowing too much.

My contribution to the weekend was to act as master of ceremonies, of
sorts. I had all sorts of jobs to perform, from meeting guests and
directing them to their rooms, to organising the caterers and the band and
the decorators (yes, party decorators!), to making sure the cleaners came
in afterwards and did a decent job of tidying up. At twenty seven - two
years older than my parents' marriage - it was probably the greatest
responsibility I'd ever been given, which tells you how easy my life had
been up to that point, I suppose.

My siblings weren't so laden with duties. My older sister had her
ever-growing brood to corral, and insisted she couldn't spare the time, and
my younger brother, Samuel, was only landing back from India later that
night. That left me with the bulk of things to do, because I was (a)
available, and (b) unencumbered by relationships. That latter point was a
bit of a sore one; I couldn't exactly come out to my family, not because
they would be bothered that I'm gay, but because of the kind of gay I
am. The wrong kind. The kind which likes very young men, men like Aidan,
who are better described as `boys'.

Still, no time to linger on the practicalities of my perversion, there were
jobs to do.

- - -

I saw him again a while later, wandering up the stairs as I came down.

"Hi, Aidan," I said, brightly.

He looked up at me suspiciously.

"Hi. The wi-fi isn't very good."

"Isn't it? That's a shame," I said, adding a little sarcasm to my tone, but
keeping it so bright as to be practically brittle. I wasn't sure how he'd
react, but he grinned.

"Yeah, isn't it? I'll have to find something else to keep me busy."

With that, he made an obscene grab for his crotch, and gave a filthy
laugh. My eyes practically popped out of my head.

"Oh God, yet another pedo," he drawled, and with a roll of the eyes he
stepped past me and up the stairs. I turned slightly to watch him go.

"And you can stop looking at my bum, pervert," he shot over his shoulder,
with a laugh.

Flustered, I tried to remember what the hell it was I was meant to be
doing. It took several minutes to recall.

- - -

"Sorry, I know you have a lot to do, and this is the last thing you need to
be worrying about now, but there really isn't anywhere in the room for him
to sleep."

I was following Andrew back up the stairs to their room, which I'd been
promised had a pull-out single bed for Aidan to sleep on. When we got up
there, it was quite obvious that there wasn't a spare bed of any variety.

"OK, I'll see what I can do to sort something out. Does he have to be in
the same room as you?"

Andrew looked a little sheepish.

"Honestly, mate, if he wasn't, I wouldn't be too gutted. Clare and I
haven't had much time off without him since the wedding, it might be nice
to have some privacy for a few nights."

"Right," I laughed, "I'll see what I can do."

I started going around the rooms, seeing if there were any other options. A
couple of the rooms were meant to be doubles with single occupancy, but
when I checked with their occupants, it turned out both had brought
uninvited guests. That earned them a gentle rebuke, but what could I do if
people wanted to brings boyfriends or girlfriends to a massive free party
in a stately home?

What was really going to cause a problem was that meant there was only one
unoccupied bed in the whole place. But before I used up my joker, I thought
I'd give the rental agency a call. As it turned out, that was a half decent
plan.

"Oh yeah, of course," said Donna, my contact. I didn't hold out much hope
for Donna's future in the hospitality industry, if I was honest. "That room
had the spare bed taken out ages ago. They must not have updated the
website. Sorry about that. But there is one option: there's a spare room
which we don't include in the let. There's a single bed in there, but
there's also a load of stuff stored there - y'know, boxes of stuff like
toilet rolls. It's at the end of the west corridor on the first floor - you
know the one, right? The silver skeleton key on the set we gave you will
open it."

Well, thank God for that, I thought. I hung up and went straight up to the
room. As soon as I opened the door, I could see the scale of the problem -
the room was stacked floor to ceiling with supplies, which we would have to
accommodate elsewhere. Even the bed was completely covered. I sighed, and
decided it was time to start throwing my weight about a bit.

I found Aidan sitting back out in the garden, scowling at his phone.

"Girlfriend let you down again?" I quipped as I approached, and he dropped
the thing like it was on fire. Reaching down to pick his phone up from the
grass, Aidan turned the scowl on me.

"It's not nice to frighten people, you know," he said, with a hint of
preteen pout.

"Sorry, mate. Wasn't trying to scare you. I just need you to come and help
me."

"Help you?"

"Yep. I'm trying to sort out a room for you."

"Oh yeah, mum said they got the room wrong."

"Well, there's a room, but we have to clear it out. If you want to sleep
there, you have to help me. I don't have time to do it myself. Otherwise
you're either on one of the sofas in the hall or you're... well, that's not
an option."

"What's not an option?"

I sighed.

"There's a bed in my room."

Aidan's eyes went wide.

"If you think I'm bunking in with a pedo, you can fuck right off."

"Jesus, Aidan, where did you learn to swear like that?"

I had to admit that it was rather cute to hear him curse in his
high-pitched, little boy's voice, but he still shouldn't have.

"Does it matter? I'm not going to stay in your room just so you can molest
me while I'm asleep."

"You're obsessed with that, aren't you? What makes you so sure I want to do
anything like that to you?" I asked.

"You just look that way, alright? Come on," he said, standing, "where's
this room?"

- - -

We stood at the doorway of the room, assessing the task in front of us.

"That's a lot of boxes," Aidan said.

"Yep."

"And we have to move them all?"

"The woman from the agency said they all had to be moved for fire
regs. Can't have you and them in there at the same time."

He walked over to the nearest and bent down, trying to pick it up.

"Jesus, that's heavy!" he said, and gave up trying to lift it.

I walked over and had a go myself, finding it probably weighed something
like 25 kilos. Easy enough for me to lift, and an excellent opportunity to
show off my biceps in my tight t-shirt. I caught Aidan looking, but at that
age you're prone to staring at an older guy with big muscles. It's just a
hero worship type of thing, especially when you're gawky and skinny like
him.

"Alright, Arnold fucking Schwarzenegger," he said, rolling his eyes. "Point
taken. But if I can't lift the boxes, I can't help, can I?"

"Nope," I admitted, "but I can't do this all by myself, it'll take me
hours."

There was a moment of tense stand-off, and then he cracked.

"Fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'll sleep in your room. But if you
even look at me all pervy I'm calling the cops."

"Deal," I said, happy not to have to move the boxes, though the curtailing
of my freedom to walk around my room naked and wank off was a bit of a
blow.

Aidan shook his head and wandered off down the hallway, fishing his phone
out of his pocket.

- - -

When I told Clare about the plan, she looked relieved, but there was also a
hint of something else in her expression.

"Be careful, Zack," she said, nervously. "He's not a teenager yet, but he's
already showing teenage tendencies. He's bright, too. A little too bright,
and a little too grown-up. Don't let him make your life hell, OK? And if
anything untoward happens, anything you're not happy about, please tell me
straight away."

It seemed a little bit of a strange thing to say, and got me wondering if
Aidan had been in trouble for anything at home. He seemed a fairly nice
boy, if not actually that communicative, so it seemed unlikely, but there
was something in what Clare said - or, more precisely, the way she said it
- which set off alarm bells in my head.

- - -

He wasn't happy that I'd `caught' him. Not exactly caught, not really,
because what he was doing was perfectly normal for a boy his age. But he
didn't want me to see him at it.

"I was just playing," he said sulkily.

"Yeah, I know. It's a good thing, mate. You're allowed to play, you're
eleven."

"Why does everyone always point that out?"

"Because playing football with your younger cousins on the lawn while we do
all the boring set-up stuff is a perfectly normal thing for an
eleven-year-old boy to enjoy doing, no matter how much you think you're too
cool for that."

"Ugh, adults always think they know what's going on, don't they?"

"Yes. Because we've been there and done that."

"You don't know anything about me. I'm completely different to you. You
don't know what's going on in my head."

I took a long look at him as he stared out over the lawn. His cousins had
wandered off to play some other game, but Aidan had come and sat down with
me on the little bank which led from the terrace down to the gardens.

"No, I don't," I said at last. "And I'm sure it's not stupid kid stuff,
right?"

He turned and looked at me, but said nothing.

"It's not easy being slightly different, is it?" I said. "I'm not clever
like you, Aidan, but I know what it's like not to really fit in."

"How?"

"I'm not going into that now, mate."

"What, because it's all about how much of a pervert you are?"

"For fuck's sake, Aidan!" I spat, and he spun to face me with a fearful
expression. He leaned back little, as if I might lash out at him.

"Will you please stop talking like that," I continued, in more measured
tones.

"Sorry. It's true, though, isn't it?"

I sighed, and looked out over the garden.

"Aidan, what happened?" I asked, desperate to steer the conversation away
from me. I had to know where these ideas had come from.

"What do you mean?"

"Your mum said something I didn't understand, and it got me thinking. And I
reckon something happened to you, something she's worried about."

Aidan didn't respond. He looked out over the garden, then at me for a
second, and then got up and turned away with a muttered "fuck off", and was
gone.

- - -

Andrew caught up with me a little later on, as I was trying to work out the
best arrangement of tables and chairs in the main hall ahead of our evening
meal. The party organisers hadn't been that clever about it... Andy came in
to help, and struck up a conversation.

"Thanks for taking in Aidan, mate, really appreciate it. Hope it's not
going to curb your style or anything."

"What style?!" I laughed. "No, in all seriousness, it's fine. I didn't
bring anyone, and who am I going to pull at a party where I'm related to
almost all the guests? The only ones who aren't family are mum and dad's
age."

"Yeah, good point, well made. But I really do appreciate it. Just let me
know if he's trouble."

"Why would he be trouble? He seems like a nice lad."

"Yeah, he is, but... nah, forget it, I'm sure he'll be fine."

"Now you've got me worried!"

"No, don't be, it'll be fine."

"Y'know, Clare was talking about him in the same way. What's this about,
Andy?"

He sighed, and looked out of the window, to where Aidan was once again
playing with his cousins on the lawn.

"It's nothing really, and for God's sake don't let on that you know about
this. A month or so ago, Clare got back from work a bit early. We let Aidy
look after himself for an hour or so after school a few days a week, and
this was one of those days. Anyway, Clare came in a bit earlier than
normal, and she found Aidan and his best mate in, erm, a compromising
position."

I raised an eyebrow, trying to stay outwardly calm while, despite myself, I
was getting really turned on by the thought of what Aidan might have been
up to. Andrew took this as a sign to continue, filling the silence by
speaking awkwardly to the floor, little louder than a whisper.

"Aidan was giving Freddy a blow-job, Zack! At eleven years old! I mean,
it's fine if that's what he prefers, it really is, but isn't he a bit
young?"

I gave Andrew a sideways glance while I tried to work out how much I should
rebuke him for his double standards. In the end, I was relatively gentle.

"Andy, I remember when I was seven and you were twelve that you couldn't
keep your eyes of that girl, what was her name? Molly?"

"Mandy. God, you're right, I would've done anything to be her boyfriend!"

"Right, and what would you have wanted to do with her?"

He blushed and laughed.

"Well, y'know, the same thing all young boys want to do with young girls. I
wanted to get her naked and do stuff, I suppose!"

"Not all young boys, Andy. Aidan's about the same age you were when you got
interested in sex. The difference is, unlike his step-dad, he's got game!"

Andy looked at me stunned for a moment, and then burst out laughing.

"God, you're right!" he said. "You're totally right."

"He's doing what a lot of young boys that age can only dream of, which is
living out his sexual desires. Yes, he's probably a bit young for some
stuff, but it won't hurt him to explore with his mate, Freddy, unless
Freddy turns out to be a little dickhead about it."

"Oh, no, he won't do that," Andrew said, shaking his head. "He's far too
nice for that. Come to think of it, he's about the gentlest kid I know. He
wouldn't do anything to hurt Aidan, he's devoted to him."

Again, I raised an eyebrow.

"Of course he is," I said. "He's probably Aidan's little secret
boyfriend. It's probably more than just a quickie. Boys that age can be
romantic, too, you know."

"How do you know so much about all this, Zack? How come you're so wise
about boys who like boys?"

I stared at him, saying nothing, just watching as the penny finally dropped
and his eyes widened.

"Oh!" he said. "I didn't..."

"No-one does, not in the family. And if you breathe a word of it to anyone,
I'll kill you. Not even Clare, understand? I'm not ready yet."

"No, that's fine, I get it, totally. Not a word. Wow, I never knew. I mean,
you're not exactly..."

"Camp, effeminate? No, I know it's a stereotype, but most of us aren't,
mate. Just a bit more caring, most of the time, because we know what it's
like when people aren't. Look it it this way, would you have suspected
Aidan might not be one hundred percent straight?"

"No, never. I mean, how would you know? He was always just an ordinary
boy."

"He still is, Andy. Look, I have to ask, how did you handle it?"

"Probably not as well as we should. Clare was freaked out. She sent Freddy
home, and now she won't let them see each other without her around."

I sighed and put my head in my hands.

"You know you have to change that, right? I mean, they're definitely seeing
each other behind your back, and they both have phones. You're not stopping
anything, the only thing you're doing is building a wall between the two of
you and him. Notice how angry he is lately?"

"Yeah, not half! I just assumed it was because he was getting hormonal a
bit early."

"He probably is, mate, but keeping him apart from Freddy won't help a
bit. Please, think about letting them get on with things in their own
way. Be there for him, obviously, but don't stop him finding out who he
is."

Andy nodded, thoughtfully.

"Thanks, Zack. I'll talk to Clare."

As he walked away, my pounding heart slowed a little. I looked out to where
Aidan sat in the garden with a mixture of emotions - I felt pitifully sorry
for him, having to play out his sexuality in front of his parents when he
probably wasn't that sure of it himself. I felt angry at the way Clare and
Andrew had treated him, though sadly it wasn't unexpected. And I felt the
stirrings of a serious crush on him, far more than the feelings of interest
I'd had up to that point. But I also felt very protective of him, as
someone who had been through the same difficult time in my life.

In fact, I'd been in a very similar situation, though I was lucky enough
not to get caught. When I was thirteen I managed to find my way through a
maze of half-asked and barely-answered questions to an understanding with a
boy in my class who I was fairly sure was gay, or at least confused.

We ended up in my bedroom after school, while my mum was downstairs. I knew
she had no reason to come up, and was busy with housework, and so when I
somehow plucked up the courage to ask Paul if he wanted his dick sucked,
and he agreed, I thought we were safe.

I had been hoovering him into my mouth for three or four minutes (and he
was lying back in utter bliss with his fingers playing through my hair)
when I heard the stairs creak loudly. I shot away from him, and he did the
best to get his school trousers up, though he had to leave the fly wide
open, and cover himself by pulling his knees up to his chest.

I don't even remember what mum wanted, but it certainly wasn't important
enough to interrupt my first BJ. She left again, and in fact went out for a
bit, but the moment was ruined and Paul left shortly after. He wouldn't
speak to me after that, and it would be another year before I had a chance
with another boy. But that's another story entirely.

So, I could sympathise with my cousin's horny little stepson, and I really
wished he could be allowed to be himself. And being himself didn't even
need to involve me. Not if he didn't want...

- - -

The first night - of three - we just sat down for a big family meal. While
most of my relatives (some of the older kids included) got a bit trashed, I
abstained and drank coke instead, in the belief that I might have an
important job to do.

After we'd eaten, I found myself outside, with the late evening summer sun
just disappearing from view. Most of the kids had stayed up this far,
including Aidan, and they were all outside running around with the energy
of kids who'd usually be going to bed about now, and were making the best
of the fact they weren't.

I sat down on a bench, keeping half an eye on the kids in case anything
went wrong. It was a warm evening, and the scent of jasmine drifted across
the terrace. In that moment, sitting there with the happy laughter of the
kids around me, and the gentle glow of the lights from the hall behind me,
I felt a level of peace I hadn't in a long time. I decided that this
weekend - probably right at the end, so as not to steal their thunder - I
would finally tell my parents at least part of the truth about my
sexuality. Not all of it, not the part they might scream and faint about,
but I would at least tell them I wasn't going to be coming home with a lady
on my arm any time soon.

With the decision made, I felt a weight lifting from my shoulders, and
smiled to myself. Then I noticed Aidan standing there, looking at me.

"Can I sit down?" he asked, sounding far less cocksure than he had earlier.

"Of course. How's your evening been?"

He gave me a level gaze.

"Are you kidding? This is the most boring party ever."

"Oh, come on, surely there's something you could find to do."

"Nope, nothing. Sorry, I know you organised this and everything, but it's
crap."

"Yeah, I know. Not exactly the right kind of thing for someone growing up
like you, right? Shame you couldn't bring a friend."

He scowled at that.

"Mum asked, but when I said who I wanted to come, she wouldn't let me."

He sounded near to tears. I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder,
and squeezed. He flinched briefly, and then relaxed, his eyes narrowing in
pleasure as I gently kneaded the tense knot of muscles there.

"Why wouldn't she let you?"

"I wanted to bring Freddy. She doesn't like him."

"What, is he trouble?"

"Fred? No way. He's, like, the best kid ever. It's annoying how perfect he
likes to be for adults. But he's cool. It would've been fun if he was
here."

"Sounds like a good friend. Why doesn't your mum like him, then?"

He shrugged.

"Dunno," he lied, "she just doesn't."

I didn't press the issue any further; I knew he was lying, but it was clear
he didn't want to talk. He stayed with me a little while longer, sitting
there watching the kids play. I kept massaging his shoulder the whole time,
and he sat there with a goofy grin on his face, enjoying the touch.

A little while later I was called away to help find more wine, because my
drunken relatives had managed to guzzle the allocation for the whole night
by ten o'clock. By the time I returned to the bench, Aidan was gone, as
were all of the kids. I felt a momentary pang of sadness that such a
perfect moment had passed, but it was interrupted by the gentle buzz of my
phone in my pocket.

I pulled it out, and it was a message from Aidan. I didn't even remember
giving him my number, or taking his, and I wondered whether at some point
he'd nicked my phone, added his contact details and found out my number.

The message read: `gone to bed see you later Aid x'

I tried to ignore the shocking disregard for grammar, and was touched that
he thought to text me and let me know what was going on. I wondered if his
parents knew, but then decided that given how they were dancing, they
probably didn't care. The little flourish of the `x' at the end I took to
be punctuation, nothing more; he probably wrote that at the end of every
message.

I stayed up a bit longer, and then decided I would have to be up early in
the morning to get things moving for the next day, so I handed over
responsibility to my late-coming brother - who by this point was about the
only other relatively sober person left in the room - and headed off to
bed.

Aidan was still awake when I got there, lying on his bed in a pair of
skintight boxers and an equally form-fitting t-shirt. He was a skinny,
underdeveloped lad, but the look suited him well. He'd showered, which is a
bit of a surprise given the record of the average eleven year old, and his
hair was still damp, and he looked perfectly fresh and huggable. He lay
there playing on his phone, with one leg bent and the other ankle atop the
knee. I admired the little pouch at his crotch while I grabbed a few
things, then disappeared into the bathroom to change.

Standing in front of the mirror, I took a moment to look at myself and go
through the pep talk I'd already given myself twice that day. Aidan was
thoroughly off limits. Completely. Look, maybe let your gaze linger a
little longer than it should, but for God's sake don't touch. Don't provoke
him, either. Stop trying to get him to admit things, because he doesn't
want to talk to you. And stop, for fuck's sake, chubbing up every time you
look at him.

It was a valiant effort, but ultimately I realised I was probably deluding
myself. I'd try my best to stick to my guns, but I'm not always that
strong-willed.

By the time I was done, Aidan had moved under the sheet - it was far too
hot an evening for more - and didn't even acknowledge my presence. He had
his back to the room, and was still playing on his phone. I walked past him
to my bed, and glanced down to see what he was doing. He was on some kind
of messenger app, and the name across the top was `Fred'. I couldn't,
however, see what he was writing to Freddy, or what his (boy)friend was
saying back.

- - -

Sleep was not a long time coming that evening, even with all of the day's
revelations running around in my head. I was so exhausted from all the
organising that I was out like a light.

When I woke in the morning, the sun was already well up, and the day was
heating up nicely. I'd organised a walk through a local bird watching
society, one of whom was going to take those interested up to the local
hills to see what they could find. It wasn't riveting stuff by many
people's standards, but I knew my folks would enjoy the walk, and I
suspected that a large crowd rambling slowly up a hill might be more
entertaining than it sounded on paper.

I looked over to Aidan's bed to find that he'd thrown off the covers in the
night. Actually, that wasn't quite right - he'd crawled out of underneath
them and thrown his leg over the top of the sheet, so that only one leg
remained beneath. His t-shirt had been discarded in the muggy night (as had
mine, to be fair) and he lay there in nothing but his form-fitting boxers,
snoring gently.

My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. He was just about perfect, I
thought. From his narrow shoulders, along the gentle little bumps of his
spine to his slender hips, he was all boy. Perhaps best of all, for a
connoisseur of boys, was his little round rump, and just about visible in
between his legs a perfect little cotton pouch holding his treasures. At
times like this, I often find myself wondering if the people who design
boys' underwear are given the opportunity to fit their designs to live
models. They surely can't, and yet almost every style of underwear for boys
seems very capable of showing off their little packages. The way they
snuggle in all the right places.... God, it sends a shiver down my spine.

I tore myself and my aching erection away from the sight of Aidan, and
stumbled blearily into the shower. The image of him remained burned into
the backs of my eyelids well past the point the last of my sticky essence
had been washed away down the drain.

I left him snoring there, and got the hell out before I could be tempted to
do something inappropriate. Well, more inappropriate than staring at him
and then going off to wank in the shower over the sight. I mean, really
wrong, like touching him. I was actually quite impressed with my own
resolve, because had I imagined myself in the same situation before the
weekend, I wouldn't have fancied my chances of making it through without
making some kind of move, and so far I was showing what I considered to be
admirable constraint.

In light of what was to come, perhaps I should've tried a little harder.

- - -

I was impressed. It was ten o'clock in the morning, the caterers had just
cleared away the breakfast buffet, and here I was standing on the lawn with
about twenty of my relations, all raring to go on the walk. That
represented getting on for half of the guests, and considering how hard
most of them had been drinking the night before, they mostly looked
sprightly. Admittedly it was the older generation who were out in force,
but there were a couple of families with kids who hadn't let them sleep in
any longer.

At ten past, when we were convinced there weren't going to be any more
takers, I asked our guide, Paul, to set off, and so in a loose line we
started our march up to the top of the hill which towered over the house.

We were only just beyond the gate from the outer reaches of the garden into
the field beyond when I heard someone shouting my name from
behind. Imagining some kind of disaster had occurred, I immediately span
round and started back for the house.

It quickly became clear that there was no such drama, though. Instead, I
found Aidan running across the lawn towards me, with a turn of speed which
surprised me - not for the athleticism, but its application.

"Don't leave without me!" he puffed as he caught up to me.

"OK, mate, we won't. I didn't realise you wanted to come. There's no wi-fi,
you know."

He gave me a dirty look, but then grinned in spite of himself.

"I know that. Wanker."

"Language, Aidan!"

"Yeah, whatever!" he replied with a chuckle. "Who says I don't like
walking?"

"Do you? Are you much of a birdwatcher?"

"Well, I don't mind watching birds," he laughed, but blushed at his own
cheap innuendo. He might have been telling the truth, but after my chat
with his step-dad, probably not.

"Well, thanks for coming, it'll be nice to have you with us."

"So you can perv over my bum, you mean?"

I scowled at him.

"I thought I'd asked you to stop talking like that, Aidy."

"Yeah, sorry, you're right. I didn't mean it. Sorry."

He was genuinely contrite, and gave me a shy little smile. We were walking
along a little way behind the others, having not yet caught up. I took the
chance to dig a little.

"Aidan, why are you so convinced I'm a paedophile?"

He looked at me, stricken.

"I... can I ask you something, and you promise you won't kill me?"

"Hmm, depends."

"Please, you have to promise, and stick to it."

"Go on, I'm only teasing. You can ask anything you want, but don't expect
me to answer if it's too personal, OK?"

"OK, but it's really personal."

"Just ask, Aidy."

"Are you, y'know, gay?"

The question took me by surprise, despite everything. I gasped a little,
and actually stumbled. Aidan looked at me with a worried frown.

"Uh, yeah, that's personal all right!" I sputtered. "Er, yes. Yes, I
am. But please don't tell people, OK? I'm not really sure about everyone
knowing yet."

Aidan continued walking without saying anything. He was looking out over
the landscape, deep in thought. When he spoke, the suddenness of it took me
somewhat by surprise.

"There was a man at the cricket club I used to go to. He was gay. One day
after a match there was only me and him left in the changing room, because
I was having trouble with getting my pads off. I'd just been in to bat.

"The thing is, he got his willy out and it was hard, and he was just
playing with it in front of me. I didn't know what to do. It was so
gross. I wasn't, like, totally freaked out or anything, but it wasn't
nice. I just stopped looking and got out of there as quickly as I could. I
think he wanted to do stuff with me, but I really didn't want some fat,
old, hairy man like him."

"Oh, Aidan, I'm sorry. That's terrible. Did you tell anyone?"

"No! I mean, it's not like it gave me nightmares or anything. I mean, it
was just a willy, right? I mean, I have one, right?"

I laughed awkwardly, not sure that counted as any kind of justification.

"It was still wrong of him to show himself to you like that. If you'd gone
after him or something then he might have had a defence, but you didn't
want anything to do with him."

"Yeah, well, like I said, he was old. And not that good looking, and
really, really hairy. Grim."

"Oh, so you prefer your guys young, hot and smooth, then?" I asked, only
half-jokingly. Aidan grinned, but blushed and looked away.

"Fuck off," he muttered, lightheartedly. "You're the gay one."

"Yeah, well, I like my men young, hot and smooth, as it happens."

He laughed, but shook his head as if not quite believing me.

"So," I continued, "is that why you think all gay men are out to get you?"

"Well, no, I mean... no, obviously that's stupid. Not all gay men. It's
just... you remember when I met you yesterday?"

"Yep, vividly. I've never seen someone go from `hello' to `what's the wi-fi
password' in such short time. I think it was a record."

He rolled his eyes at my gentle jibe.

"Well," he said, trying valiantly to stay on topic, "you sort of looked at
me like he used to. Like you wanted to kidnap me and rape me."

I felt like a ball of hot lead had been dropped into my stomach. I'd been
caught leering at him, and what's worse, the person who'd caught me was the
victim of my stare.

"Oh, God, Aidan. I'm so sorry. I didn't realise I'd done that."

"It's OK, I don't really mind," he shrugged. "But that's how I knew you
were like him."

I wanted to scream at him that I was nothing like the guy who flashed him
in the changing rooms, but was I really? I'd been perving over him all
weekend so far, and it was only the morning of the second day! I couldn't
really claim any moral high ground.

"We'll get that other room cleared for you today, Aidy. I'll make sure it
gets done, and then you can be safe from me in there. Come on, let's find
you someone else to walk with, too."

He surprised me, by grabbing my hand and stopping us both. Even in my
wretched state, the touch of his hand on mine sent tingles right down my
spine.

"Zack, no. That's not what I meant. I don't want to go to that other
room. I like staying with you. I trust you, OK? You're nice."

He looked out over the fields, and made a frustrated little growling noise.

"Damn it, why do things always get messed up like this?" he asked no-one in
particular. "Come on," he went on, turning back to me, "we're going to keep
walking together, and we're going to have fun."

With that, he took my hand again, and we walked on together. He held my
hand until both our palms were sweaty, and we were finally in sight of the
rest of the group, at which point he let go with a sigh.

- - -

We did have fun. The walk was blessed with warm sunshine throughout, and it
was a lot more interesting than I had anticipated, because it turned out
that our guide, Paul, used to be a roadie for some fairly big bands, and
spent a lot of the time telling us stories about them instead of telling us
about the local wildlife.

Aidan stayed with me the whole time, often walking closely enough to me
that my arm would brush his shoulder. He had left the hotel in shorts and
t-shirt with a hoodie over the top, and his stick-thin ankles disappearing
without socks into a very well-used pair of trainers. The jumper was quick
to go - shoved in the backpack I'd brought, which was largely empty - but
he was still sweating from the climb. It turned the tips of his blonde hair
dark where it brushed against his damp skin. He even allowed me to cover
his arms, neck and face in sunscreen (yes, I am rather practical...), which
was thrilling for me, and perhaps even for him too, given the goosebumps
which sprang up all over both forearms.

We returned to the house in time for a late lunch, for which the caterers
had done a barbecue. We could smell it a long way off from the house, and
it spurred us on to make the last push to the finishing line.

- - -

Once we'd eaten, our guests had little more to do until the party that
evening, but there was plenty for me to be getting on with. I headed up to
my room, with my shadow still firmly attached, to get showered and changed,
so I didn't feel so thoroughly disgusting all afternoon. Then it would be
down to the business of organising things.

I stood in the shower - deliberately set cool - and tried to wash the heat
out of my body. When I was practically shivering, I finally stepped out and
towelled myself off, and then realised I hadn't brought anything fresh to
change into. So, wrapping the towel tightly around my waist and holding on
for extra security, I stepped out into the room and hoped that Aidan
wouldn't freak out, imagining that he was about to repeat the incident at
the cricket club.

When he saw me, the smirked knowingly. It looked as though he imagined that
I had set the whole thing up. He was sitting on his bed with his phone -
the thing rarely seemed to leave his hand - dressed once again in only a
t-shirt and underwear.

"I'm just getting some clothes to get dressed," I explained, feeling the
need to reassure him. "I'll go back into the bathroom to put them on."

"I hope not," he said, with the hint of a dirty chuckle beneath it. I
couldn't get my head into gear fast enough to process what he might mean
before he continued in much more level tones, "because I'm going in there
to have a shower."

He levered himself up from the bed, flung his phone down on the covers and
walked into the bathroom, giving me a lovely view of his pert backside
wrapped in soft cotton. He knew it, too, if the little sway in his hips was
anything to go by. Jesus, it was obvious that boy was gay, if you knew what
you were looking for.

His phone screen lit up. I watched it from across the room as a message
arrived, and then another. One of them had a picture attached.

I was paralysed with indecision. I could hear the shower running, so there
was every chance Aidan was tied up and wouldn't catch me if I just walked
over and had a look at the previews of the messages on the lock screen. It
would be that easy. Perhaps he was conversing with Freddy, and they were
expressing how much they missed each other while Aidan was away.

I shook my head, and grimaced. I couldn't do it, not if I felt I deserved
Aidan's trust. Angry with myself for even having been tempted, but also a
little bit pleased that I'd resisted, I got dressed in a hurry and left
before Aidan emerged from the bathroom.

- - -

Aidan was really beginning to get to me. He was all I could think about as
I walked around with my check-lists that afternoon, getting the place ready
for the main event; the big party to celebrate my parents' wedding
anniversary would be that night, and would involve a huge meal, live
entertainment, the whole works. It wasn't far off a wedding in terms of
planning, though perhaps the scale was a little smaller. Luckily, I had
spent so long in the build up organising myself that it hardly mattered
that I was away with the fairies - I just needed to trust my lists and run
through my checks mechanically, and everything would be alright.

About three in the afternoon, as I was going through the main hall past the
temporary stage for the band (I told you my parents were doing this
properly, didn't I?), I spotted Aidan sat on the edge of it, with his legs
dangling off and swinging to a fro. His phone was in his hand, of course,
but for once it was sitting idle.

"Hi, mate," I said as I drew level with him. "Bored?"

"Yeah. Nothing to do, and Freddy's gone to the football, so he's stopped
messaging. I don't really chat to anyone else much, so if he's busy..."

He left it hanging there; there was no need to finish the sentence.

"So, you're just sat on the edge of the stage?"

"Well, I helped them carry in some of those boxes," he said, nodding
towards the amps. "Fucking heavy. Sorry! I mean, flipping heavy."

I smiled at him - at least he was trying to clean up his vocabulary. I
wondered if that was for my benefit.

"Thanks for doing that, you don't have to help. It's appreciated, though."

"It's OK. I kind of like being useful, and if it means less things for you
to do that's good, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," I grinned.

"So, what else can I do?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, come on, there must be something."

"Well..." I said, scanning down my lists. "There is, actually. Round the
back there are three boxes marked `Favours'. Two are full of little velvet
bags, and the other has some boxes in it. The bags are all the same, and
are for the adults, and the boxes are for the kids, but all have names
on. Could you put one of the velvet bags in the middle of the place setting
for each adult, and then find the right places for the boxes for the kids?
Here, this is a copy of the seating plan with all the names on it."

He took the plan from me, and glanced down at it. He appeared to be
studying it for a long time.

"Everything alright?" I asked after a long pause.

Aidan shook his head. "Nope," he said. "It's wrong."

"Why?"

"Because," he started, in the tone of someone explaining something
incredibly simple to someone rather stupid, "I'm over here, and you're all
the way over there."

He jabbed at the map with his finger to emphasise his point.

"Oh. Right. Shall we change that, then?"

"Well, only if you want. I mean, I don't mind or anything. It's only a
stupid party. I mean -"

"Alright, enough!" I cried, cutting him off. "I'll move you. Here, give me
that plan."

For the next few minutes I made a series of little changes, moving people
gradually out of the way like a massive puzzle, until I could free up a
seat right next to me, and move Aidan all the way across the room from his
parents' table to mine.

"Right," I said, putting on my commanding voice. Amusingly, he perked up a
little, and if he had a tail it would've been wagging. "If you want to sit
next to me, make all the changes I've marked on here. Then put out all the
favours."

He nodded with a grin, and scampered off with the kind of energy which
would definitely desert him sometime in the coming few years.

"What on Earth have you done to my son!" came an accusing voice from behind
me, as I watched him go to work. I span round to find Clare bearing down on
me, with a huge smile on her face. "I've not seen him be this helpful in
ages."

"He's a good kid. And there's an incentive."

"Oh yes?"

"Well, he didn't want to sit net to his stuffy mum and dad for the meal, so
I said if he made all the changes I marked on the map, he could sit next to
me. I hope that's OK with you and Andy."

"You're kidding, right? It's more than OK. You can keep him!" she laughed.

I laughed along with her, while all the time thinking that I'd like that
very much indeed.

"Well, if he's going to keep being this helpful, I might."

"I don't know how you've done it, but he's really come out of himself this
weekend."

I reacted to the phrasing, and Clare reacted to my reaction.

"Oh, no, I didn't mean... I mean... God, what do I mean? Andy said he spoke
to you, and you gave him some good advice."

"I'm not sure how good it was," I said with a shrug. "Just seemed sensible
to me."

"Well, perhaps I haven't been all that sensible lately, then. It's not
easy, you know."

"What isn't?"

"Finding out your son is, you know... gay."

"He might not be. What he was doing is something plenty of straight boys do
when they're finding out how things work and who they are, while loads of
hormones are riding a wrecking ball through their personality and sense of
perspective."

"It's not just that, though, is it? I mean, doesn't he come across as gay
to you?"

I sighed. This was one area I'd always found difficult. You can't judge
someone just by a few mannerisms and some impulsive behaviour with their
best mate. And yet, I can always pick out the gay guy in a room. Gaydar,
ladies and gents, is a very real thing.

"He might well be, yes."

"And that's a bit hard to deal with, is all I'm saying."

"Why is it hard? He's still your son."

Clare looked at me, and her eyes filled slightly.

"You really, really don't get it, do you?" she asked, not angrily, but with
sympathy. "I don't care if he brings home a boyfriend. Jesus, I'm fairly
sure what I found him doing with Freddy wasn't the first time. I still love
him. But I'm worried. It's like finding out your son had some horrible
disease which is going to cause him lots of pain, and there's nothing you
can do about it except stand by and watch, and hold his hand when it really
hurts. People out there will bully him because of it, if he's out at
school. Most of the others will be fine, but there'll always be a
handful. So he either has to risk that, or deny who he is until he's
older."

I wasn't sure the disease analogy was quite perfect, but I got Clare's
point. Aidan's life wasn't going to be as simple as it would if he was
straight, no matter what you might say about the changes in attitude to gay
people these days. There are still some who would make trouble for him, and
Clare was right to be worried about them. But I was also unwilling to
simply relegate Aidan to the role of victim of his sexuality.

"Look, don't be too keen to label him anything yet, OK?" I told her. "Until
he tells you otherwise, you won't know anything. He probably won't, either,
not for a long time. Just do one thing for him, OK?"

"What?"

"Don't ruin his friendship with Freddy."

"Has he told you about him?"

"I only know what Andy told me, that you caught them together and that
you've stopped them seeing each other unless you're right there with
them. Other than that, Aidan mentioned that he had a friend he wasn't
allowed to bring, because you don't like him."

"Jesus, Zack, it's not that. I'm trying to protect them."

"From what? Each other? Enjoying being kids?"

"They're too young to be doing that stuff!"

"Maybe, maybe not. They certainly won't be the youngest boys to ever have
fooled around like that. And at their age it doesn't really mean anything."

"How can it not mean anything?!" Clare asked in an enraged whisper. "Aidan
had the boy's willy in his mouth!"

"Yes, and they're both horny young boys who see any kind of outlet for
their tensions as legitimate. It might mean a lot for you to do that to a
man, but two horny little boys will hardly think anything of it if they're
both comfortable that no-one will know."

Clare sighed, and ran her hand through her hair. I couldn't blame her for
being ignorant of such things, but she was taking a lot of convincing that
this wasn't quite the apocalyptic event she had believed.

"So, what? I just let them get on with it, and do all sorts of stuff they
aren't meant to do at their age?"

"Yes."

"Oh come on! What if they end up trying to do... you know."

"Anal?"

"Yes, that! What if they try that!?"

I shrugged.

"I doubt they will. Most boys, even gay ones, think that's a little weird
until they're older. And what harm will they do if they do try it? It's not
like either of them is going to end up pregnant."

"How can you be so calm about this?" she asked, the strain clearly showing
on her face.

"Because the only reason it winds you up is that you don't like the idea of
your son being gay, but you won't admit it to yourself. It's not how you
imagined he would turn out, and you can make all the platitudes you like
about it being OK, but your words and your actions don't match."

Clare looked ready to scream, but instead she took a massive breath, let it
out in an equally large sigh, and turned to walk away. She made it about
six steps before turning once more and walking back to me.

"I need to think about this, OK?" she said, her fists clenching as she
spoke. "Give me a chance to get used to it, then I might listen to you
telling me what I should and shouldn't be doing."

It was only after she'd left that I realised Aidan was standing not far
away from us, looking at us both. From where Clare was standing she
wouldn't have seen him, and I had my back to him the whole time. He stepped
forward, with a face like thunder and his fists clenched.

"You were talking about me, weren't you?"

"Aidy, it's not like that."

"What did she say?"

"It's nothing, mate."

"Yes, it is. What did she tell you?"

He was red-faced with anger now, and I could see the tension in him. There
was no point trying to lie to him, he would spot it instantly, so I had to
take a chance with the truth.

"She didn't tell me anything. Your step-dad did. He thought I might be able
to give him some advice."

"About what?"

"About the fact that your mum caught you and Freddy doing things she didn't
think you should be doing."

"Sucking his willy, you mean?" he asked, in a low, level voice. His eyes
flashed with anger in the same way his mother's had; it was a cute little
inherited trait, which I would've appreciated more at a different time.

"Yes, that."

"It's not against the law, you know. I checked."

"I know it isn't, mate. I don't happen to think it's bad at all. It doesn't
mean anything."

"What, like I'm a homo or something?"

"Precisely. It doesn't mean that at all."

"What if..." he whispered, turning and falling back against the wall, and
sliding down until his backside touched his heels. Suddenly tears sprang
into his eyes. "What if that is what it means?"

"Then one day you'll work that out and go from there."

"No, you don't understand. That isn't what I meant. What if I've already
decided that's what I am, and that's why I was sucking him, and that I
really like him a lot, and he likes me, and he's not my friend, he's my
boyfriend?"

He turned to me with tears streaming down his face.

"What then?" he sobbed.

- - -

I sat on the floor and held him to me for fifteen minutes as he cried. All
the tension he'd bottled up inside came flooding out, and he wept until
there was nothing left to give. When he'd finally calmed down, he sat back
and gave me a weak smile.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't be such a big baby."

"You're not being a baby. This is huge stuff, and you don't have anyone to
talk to about it all. Or, at least, you didn't have anyone. Now you can
speak to me. If you want, that is."

"Thanks," he said, nodding. "I don't really know what I want to ask,
though."

"You don't have to ask anything. It's not a question and answer session,
mate. We can just chat."

"About what?"

"Well, how are you feeling?"

"Sad, obviously. Couldn't you see that?"

"What else?"

"Well... I don't know. Angry, too. Angry at my mum, and at everything. This
isn't fair!"

"No, it's not fair, because of all the people you'll meet who don't accept
you. It's not always easy for them to understand. You just have to try to
be better than them."

"I feel relieved, too. I mean, that's, like, the first time I've ever said
it. At all. Even to Freddy. I mean, we don't talk about it or anything."

"That's probably the right attitude, Aidy. If it's just a normal thing,
then at least you're thinking about it the right way, even if not everyone
else can manage that."

"Like mum, you mean?"

"Exactly, like your mum. She's confused and worried at the moment. She
doesn't hate you for who you are, she's just not very good at working it
all out."

"Yeah, I know. I get that she still loves me. It's just sometimes it seems
like she doesn't."

"Like when she stops you seeing Freddy?"

"Yeah, that. And other things. But mostly that. We still see each other at
school, though. I mean, we have to be careful, but sometimes we can do
things."

He giggled and blushed, and looked down at the floor between his legs.

"I did that at school, too," I admitted. "I had a special friend and
sometimes we would go to the toilets together and play with our things."

Aidan looked at me with absolute incredulity.

"Seriously?!"

"Yep."

"Oh my God! All Freddy and I do is talk about stuff and maybe sometimes
show each other our things."

"Does he have a nice one?"

"Yeah," he giggled. "It's longer than mine, which is funny `cause he's
really little. But mine is a bit fatter I think."

I had to stop myself asking how big they were. I'd already gone too far
down that path, and needed to stop before I steered the conversation onto
topics I might have enjoyed, but which Aidan would probably feel deeply
uncomfortable discussing.

"So, what do I do now?" he asked.

"Dunno, mate. It's not like I have much experience coming out, only a
handful of people know, and no-one in my immediate family. I think perhaps
you should just carry on as you are. Don't make a point of it until you're
sure of yourself."

"But I am sure."

"Well, even if you are, you don't have to say anything about it to anyone
other than your mum, do you? I mean, there's no-one forcing you to come
out, right?"

"Nope," he said, with a little laugh.

"Well, then, I think what you do now is help me finish getting this set up
and then have a really good time at the party."

"Ugh, that's going to be so much fun," he said with heavily laid-on
sarcasm.

I laughed, and gave him a playful punch on the arm, and in a second he was
all over me, wrestling me to the floor. He was strong for his size, too,
and I let myself get pinned, with Aidan sitting triumphantly on my lap,
holding his arms aloft.

The problem was, it wasn't just my lap he was sitting on... He gave a
wriggle of his hips, and then looked down at me in shock.

"Oh my God, is that your...?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. It just happened."

"It's OK," he said with a filthy chuckle, "it happens to all of us, right?"

He gave another wriggle of his hips, sending a bolt of unwanted pleasure
radiating out from my groin. I'd spent so long dreaming about having a boy
just like him sitting in my lap and feeling my hard-on beneath them, and
now it was happening all I could think of was how desperately I wanted it
to stop.

"Please, Aidan, stop doing that."

He frowned.

"I thought you would like it. Don't you think I'm hot?"

"God, yes," I said with a humourless laugh. "But this isn't what I
want. You're not interested in me, you're just playing about."

His brows wrinkled further.

"But I'm enjoying it, look," he said, thrusting out his hips. Sure enough,
off to the left of his fly there was a noticeable bulge in his
jeans. Little Aidy was fully to attention.

"Yeah, we're both enjoying it, mate, but it's just playing around. It
doesn't mean anything, does it?"

He climbed off to the side, and I sat up.

"I suppose not, no," he said. "I've never done anything with a grown-up,
though. Your thing felt really nice under my bum. All fat and hot."

"Yep, and I've never done anything with a boy your age, and trust me, I
would really like to. But only if it means something."

Now, that wasn't quite true, of course. I was quite ready to have a
thoroughly filthy little fling with a hot and sexy boy, and for it to mean
nothing, but not Aidan. Not someone I cared a lot about already. If it was
going to be him, he needed to feel as strongly for me as he felt for
Freddy, and it was clear he didn't.

"I think I get it," he said, looking down at the floor. His hand had
drifted to his crotch, and he tugged absentmindedly at the little lump
there.

"I think you need to go and have some alone time," I joked, and he shot me
a filthy look.

"Wanker!" he whispered, but there was smile on his lips.

"No, mate, I think you're the one who needs to go and be a wanker."

"Oh, shut up!" he growled. "Come on," he continued, standing, "let's get on
with this stupid party stuff."

"Yes, sir!" I said jumping to my feet.

As we continued to work, I tried to burn into my mind the image of his
hungry glance at my crotch as I stood.

- - -

"He's been so helpful this afternoon," I said to Andrew as we stood back
and watched some of the more adventurous (and inebriated) members of the
extended family heading out onto the dance floor. I was, of course, talking
about Aidan; he was my new favourite subject, after all. For once, he
wasn't glued to my side.

"You've obviously brought out the best in him," he replied. "I think he's
rather infatuated with you, if I'm honest."

I shook my head.

"No, he's not. I'm certain of that. He's infatuated with his best
friend. I'm just someone he can talk to who understands him. I know what
he's going through, that's all, and it's just nice to have someone like me
around."

"I thought he might've developed a bit of a crush."

"No, I don't think so. He's just relieved he can be himself around me."

"He can be himself at home, you know."

I looked sideways at him.

"Really? Can he?"

Andrew seemed to think about it for a moment, then looked down at the
floor.

"No, I don't suppose he could," he said in a very small voice. He looked
close to tears. "That's going to change, though. I promise."

"I'm glad to hear it. You don't have to promise me anything, though. I'm
not the one you need to worry about."

"Yeah, I know. I do get it. Clare and I are going to talk to him about it
after this weekend. She's going to try to be a bit more understanding."

I raised a questioning eyebrow.

"OK," Andrew laughed, "a lot more understanding. We're going to make it OK
though."

"I'm glad. He's a good lad."

"Yeah, he is, isn't he?"

We were watching him leading a bunch of his younger cousins in a dance
among the crowds, looking like he was genuinely enjoying himself. Part of
that was probably due to the large gulp of my cider he'd nicked during
dinner, but another part of it, I hoped, was the new freedom he felt, with
the weight of his secret lifted from his shoulders.

His phone buzzed in my pocket. He'd given it to me for safekeeping, not his
mum or step-dad, and it felt nice to be trusted. So nice, in fact, that I
repaid that trust by refusing to take it out and look at the message.

I couldn't stand there and watch him all night, but when I did, I felt a
surge of pride. Aidan was shouldering a big burden at a young age, and he
was beginning to do so very gracefully indeed.

- - -

I don't know what time I got into bed. I hadn't drunk all that much, but
the effort of planning and executing the party had taken its toll, and I
hardly remembered a moment of the later part of the evening. I remember
helping the band pack up their stuff, and sending them on their way with my
thanks. And then the same tasks for the caterers, who cleared up, and the
party organisers, who turned up to take away the tables we'd hired.

Then it was just the remaining stragglers, who sat around in the lounges of
the hall, finishing off the last few bottles of free wine I'd kept back for
when the bar closed at midnight. The last thing I remembered before waking
up in the early hours of the morning was letting the poor, overworked
barmaid out of the back door into the cold night, and thanking her for
putting up with my family by doubling her wages with a tip. God knows she'd
earned it.

Then, as I've said, it was just about dawn, and I was awake. At first, I
struggled to work out what had woken me. I lay there with my eyes still
glued shut with sleep, and my limbs not really responding.

There was a curious feeling at my groin. I knew I needed to pee, but the
kind of hard-on I had felt subtly different, somehow. Even though I could
feel that it had broken free of the fly of my boxers, I felt no particular
urgency to do anything about it. I was far too lethargic to think it really
mattered. Besides, Aidan would surely be asleep, and he wouldn't notice a
thing, so why ruin this lovely, peaceful moment by moving?

Then I felt it again. The thing which had surely woken me. A light touch on
the skin. I felt my shaft jerk upwards, and the touch was gone. But then it
was back, gentle, slight, like a butterfly alighting on my skin. Almost not
there at all. But definitely real, and it tickled its way north towards the
head.

Still, it didn't really occur to me what was happening. It felt like a
wonderful dream, and I didn't have to think too hard about it, I just had
to lie there and enjoy the sensations. If I concentrated on how I came to
be feeling so wonderful, there was the sense it would disappear, and this
was not something to be risked.

As consciousness slowly crept in, there came a moment when my brain finally
worked out what was happening. These definitely weren't my fingers, and the
door to our room was locked, so that really only meant one thing: those
were Aidan's fingers on my erection. Well, I thought to myself in my dream
state, that's nice, isn't it? His fingers really do feel lovely. How kind
of him to make me feel like this, and I haven't even tried anything.

And then, as reality started to force its way into my perception, another
thought struck me. This is Aidan playing with my dick. What the actual
fuck? I need to stop his now before it goes any further.

Well, perhaps not quite now. Perhaps I can enjoy that incredible, tickly
sensation for just a little longer. I mean, it won't harm to just lie
here. I'm not exactly making him do it. He thinks I'm asleep, right? Who am
I harming?

Actually, Zack, I told myself as the last vestiges of sleep were swept from
my mind and I became fully conscious, you really, really have to stop
this. It's not right!

And so I made the decision to stop him. Except... well, except at that
moment he wrapped his hand around my manhood. His hot little fingers
encircled it, barely meeting each other on the far side, flattering the
size of me.

I'm ashamed to say that my resistance crumbled. My erection twitched, and a
hot, fat globule of precum flowed out into the folds of my foreskin. His
hand slid upward and he pinched the skin together there, and the droplet
dripped down to land on the inch or so of bare skin between the hem of my
t-shirt and the waistband of my boxers.

His downward stroke - featherlike, hot, silken - was the very touch of an
angel. My right leg quivered uncontrollably, and I hoped he thought it was
happening in my sleep. He bought his hand up once more, and down, and just
once more up, and I was there. His skill in working my shaft was nothing in
comparison to the excitement I felt at having such a hot, young boy
bringing me off, of his own volition, when he thought I was asleep. I
couldn't contain myself for a moment longer, and rope after rope of hot
liquid painted my t-shirt, quite comfortably clearing the little gap into
which my precum had dripped.

I've never worked so hard at anything in my life as I did in those few
moments, trying to appear asleep rather than writhing and groaning as I
desperately wanted. It took almost more effort than I was prepared to make,
but thankfully I was able to withstand the intense sensation and the
pressing desire to grab his hand in mine and finish the job properly, and
the sensations eventually dimmed and passed.

He had dropped me as soon as my orgasm hit, but he was still standing
there, watching. Even with my eyes closed I could sense that. I could hear
him take short, ragged breaths, and I could feel the heat radiating off
him. He stood there the whole time my seed pumped out onto my stomach, and
for some time after, as I continued to feign sleep and my manhood
wilted. The semen soaking into my t-shirt was cooling quickly by the time
he turned and went back to his bed.

I heard him climb in, and then the rustle of the sheet being pulled over
his shoulders. He moved several times, but there was no sign of the
rhythmic sound of him finding his own pleasure.

Still, I lay there, waiting to hear him snoring, or at the very least
breathing deep and slow, so that I could get up and get changed. But
weariness and the deep sense of calm which follows a good orgasm both
ganged up on me, and before Aidan fell asleep, I did.

- - -

He was still asleep when I woke up. I took my things, and went to shower.

Never, and I cannot stress this strongly enough, never let a cum-soaked
t-shirt dry onto the hairs on your stomach. In the end I had to stand under
the shower trying to melt my dried emission under the hot water, and to an
extent that worked, but it was still agony to remove it.

But what a wonderful reason to be in pain. I tried to feel guilty about it
for a short while, but I couldn't work out what I'd done wrong. I hadn't
initiated it in any way. I hadn't encourage Aidan. I might have stopped
him, but the embarrassment he would have felt would have crushed his
spirit. He would never be able to look me in the eye again. So I had let it
happen for the right reasons, and I had nothing to feel guilty about.

I stood under the spray for a very long time, so long in fact that there
came a gentle knocking at the door.

"What?!" I shouted.

"Are you nearly done, I need to take a leak," Aidan called out, sounding
rather desperate.

I was so worked up at this point that I made what could have been a
terrible decision.

"Just come in and do it!" I shouted back. "But no peeking."

I could hear him laugh through the door, and then felt the cool rush of air
as it opened.

"Thanks, Zack," he said in a very quiet voice. I had the curtain fully
drawn across the tub, so there was no chance I could see anything, but that
hardly mattered. I could imagine him pacing across to the toilet, and then
when the sound of him letting loose filled my ears, I could imagine what it
looked like, even though the appearance of his dick was absolute guesswork.

Even the thought of it was enough, and when I heard him tear off a little
strip of toilet paper to dab the end dry, I came hard, firing thick globs
of semen to land with a splatter in the water pooled at my feet, and then
to slide down the drain on a whirlpool of water.

He left again, and the door closed, and this time it was far easier to feel
guilty.

- - -

The Sunday was to be a lazy day, and half the guests were leaving. Those
who wanted to were welcome to stay until the Monday - a bank holiday - but
many of those with kids were off, with the main party done and nothing
particularly planned for the evening.

My day was going to be spent tidying up, and as I went around with my list,
I found I had a little helper shadowing me. Aidan was just there a lot of
the time, happy to do little jobs, though I didn't particularly take
advantage of his enthusiasm. It was far nicer to simply have him there with
me.

As we were doing things, I realised that this was probably as close as I
would ever get to having a young boyfriend. I knew there was very little
chance of having the kind of relationship I craved - after all, even if I
found a willing boy, there was still my conscience to deal with - but if it
did happen, this joy in spending time together regardless of what we were
doing was what I desired more than anything else.

But there was something else looming on the horizon, something which I had
promised myself. This was going to be the weekend I finally admitted to my
parents the big secret I'd been keeping from them for years. Not the whole
secret, not the most shocking part, but perhaps the truth that they weren't
going to be welcoming a daughter-in-law into the family any time soon,
unless my younger brother did something rash.

As I was wandering about ticking jobs off my list, I started running
through in my mind what I would say to them. The thing was, I kept having
trouble even thinking of a way of introducing the topic. I wanted it to be
natural, I suppose. In a way, I sort of envied Aidan, in that he never had
to work out how to have the conversation.

"Are you OK?" he asked me at one point, when he caught me rehearsing my
lines. I'd slipped from internal monologue to external without realising
it.

"Yeah, sorry mate. Just trying to work out how to say something to my
parents."

"You're going to tell them, aren't you?"

"Tell them what, mate?"

"Tell them about being gay."

"Ha! Yeah, you got it. How did you know?"

"You were frowning a lot. You looked a bit angry. I thought it must be
serious, and that was the only thing serious enough to make you that angry
was the fact you haven't told them. You told me that yesterday, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember. I haven't admitted it to them."

"Why not?"

"Well, it's a bit scary, isn't it? You don't know how they're going to
react. You must've thought of that."

"Dunno," he shrugged. "Not really. I mean, I didn't want mum to know what I
was doing, but I never even thought that was something you tell people or
anything. It's just something you are."

"You're not wrong, mate. That's pretty wise, actually. But they don't know,
and they deserve to."

"Do you want me to tell them for you? I will, if you want. Then you don't
have to."

"Thanks, mate, but I don't think that would be right. It ought to come from
me. They'd wonder why it was you telling them, and not me, and they'd
probably wonder why we were even talking about things like that. You never
know, maybe they would guess about you."

"I don't care," he said, puffing out his chest. But it was false bravado,
and I called him on it.

"Yes, you do," I said, and the wind went out of his sails.

"Yeah, you're right. So, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know, Aidy. But I'll think of something."

- - -

In the end, thinking of a way to introduce the topic was a pointless
exercise, because it was my mum who did it for me.

"You've been spending a lot of time with Andrew's step-son this weekend,
haven't you?" she said, as we sat out on the lawn enjoying the sun and a
cheeky Long Island iced tea.

"Aidan? Yeah. He's staying in my room so Clare and Andy can have some
peace. He's sort of tagged along while I've done stuff. He's a good lad, as
it happens; been helping a lot."

"You know, I was talking to Andy last night. He'd had a few glasses of
wine, I think. He was telling me all sorts of things I think perhaps he
shouldn't have."

I frowned, feeling angry that Aidan's trust had apparently been
violated. Andy wasn't meant to be going around telling people all his
secrets.

"What did he tell you?" I asked, perhaps more angrily than i should have.

"Just that Aidan might need a little looking after over the coming
years. That maybe he would have a difficult time as a young teenager."

"Right."

"Well, I just thought maybe Aidan had spoken to you about it."

"He said something, yes. So did Andy and Clare."

"Right. Good."

"Good?"

"Well, yes. I mean, you're probably an excellent person to talk to about
it."

"How so?"

"Well, you know, being... well, gay. I mean, you are gay, aren't you,
Zack?"

I just stared into her eyes for the longest time, not quite knowing what to
say. All this time I'd been hiding my true self from her, and she knew all
along!

"Oh, goodness, I'm sorry, Zack. I just thought... I mean, I was so sure..."

I raised my hand and cut her off.

"Mum, stop. Yes. I am."

"Oh, thank goodness!" she gushed.

"That's not the normal reaction," I replied, drily.

"No, I mean, of course it's not. I just... well, look, I'm glad I hadn't
been assuming that and it was wrong."

"How long have you known?"

"Known? Well, about thirty seconds. But assumed? I suppose since you had
such close friends when you were growing up. One of them was really
obvious. What was his name, now? John, or was it George?"

"Paul, mum. His name was Paul."

"That's it! I knew it was one of the Beatles. Anyway, he was really
obvious, and you two spent a lot of time together in your room, and there
was one time I came in and you both looked so guilty. I just thought there
must be something going on. And I read these books and some of them said it
was just a phase you would grow out of, but sometimes you didn't, and it
wasn't just a phase, and so I.... well..."

"You read a book about it?" I asked, weakly.

"Yes, well, I had to find out what was going on. We didn't have all these
internets in our day, Zack. It was down to the library and looking among
the books there."

"But Mrs Harris from next door worked at the library. Did she...? Did you
ask her for a book about...?"

"Oh, no, Zack, don't be silly. I just found the right section and had a
quick look at some psychology books. I wasn't about to ask Mrs Harris
anything like that."

"If you knew, why didn't you say something?"

"Like what? Demand that you tell me, like I was interrogating you? Zack,
sweetie, that would have been terrible for you. Would you really have
wanted me to do that?"

I looked out over the lawn, reflecting on the question.

"No, I suppose not. It would've been the most embarrassing thing you could
possibly have done."

"Precisely. So I just had to wait for you to tell me in your own time. I
just didn't think it would take this long, that's all."

I sighed, and drained my glass.

"Well," I said after a long silence. "That wasn't quite as I had imagined
it."

Mum laughed, leaned over, and kissed me on the cheek.

- - -

Dad knew, too, of course. But he was typically more reserved.

"I heard you talked to your mother," he said, his accent more thickly
Yorkshire than it normally was, a sign he wasn't comfortable in the topic.

"Yes, dad. We had a chat."

"And everything's OK, is it?"

"Yep."

"Good. Well, that's sorted that, then. Now, tell me, is there anything else
left to clear up after yesterday?"

And that was that. No drama, very little said, but that afternoon, for the
first time since I was a kid, my dad hugged me.

- - -

Aidan was sitting in a tree, with his phone.

"Better reception up there, is there?"

He gave me a quizzical look.

"No, I just like climbing trees."

"Sorry, it's just you have your phone with you. Been texting Freddy?"

He blushed, and gave a nervous little laugh.

"Sort of. Snapchat."

"Oh, I see," I said, laying on the `knowing uncle' act rather thickly. "I
know what you kids use Snapchat for."

"Oh, shut up!"

"Ah, so you're not denying it? Room up there for me on the branch?"

"Yeah, I suppose so, if you're not too old and fat to climb up!"

"Oi, cheeky!"

With that, I began to climb. It was a lot harder than I expected, because
Aidan was right, I was old, and fat, or at least not as slender as I was
when I was eleven. Eventually, though, I managed to haul my ageing carcass
up, and there was indeed plenty of room for me, just below and to the side
of where Aidan was sitting. I got a peek up the leg of his shorts, but
there was nothing doing, so I canned off the pervy older guy thing and
decided to go for friendly instead.

"Doesn't look like there's a lot of room up here to take dick pics," I
said, as casually as I could. Aidan's eyes went wide, and he clamped his
hand over his mouth rather theatrically.

"You can't say that!"

"Why not?"

"It's just... well, you're not meant to talk about stuff like that."

"This coming from the boy with the filthy mouth who's already admitted
sucking his best friend's willy."

"That's different!"

"I'm not sure it is, but anyway, it doesn't matter. I was only joking."

"Yeah, whatever. Anyway, there is room, you just have to be clever!"

With that, he pulled forward the waistband of his shorts and let it slap
back against his body. My heart leapt into my throat, but try as I might I
couldn't see anything. For the second time in as many minutes, I had to
tell myself to stop being naughty uncle Zack. He giggled at the way my eyes
bulged out of my head. He knew he had me exactly where he wanted me, and it
only took the merest hint of a chance of a show and I would sit up and wag
my tail.

Just then, the message tone rang out from his phone, and he was momentarily
distracted from torturing me with his youthful sexiness. He was facing me,
so there was no chance of seeing the message, but by the sudden flush of
colour in his face, I'd say he'd just received a very interesting photo. He
stopped smiling, and peered closely at the screen. A flash of skin colour
was reflected in his glasses, but there was no chance to see any
detail. But there was no need to see the image to know what it contained -
the hand which made its way south and grabbed at Aidan's crotch told me
everything.

"Tell you what, mate, I'm going to leave you to it," I said, as I levered
myself up and started to look about for a way down.

Aidan looked up at me as if he'd forgotten I was even there.

"Oh, yeah, OK," he said, absentmindedly. I laughed to myself as I
descended, and walked away, shaking my head.

- - -

It was only a little later that it occurred to me that I hadn't actually
told Aidan about having spoken to my parents. I thought he would have
wanted to know, but there would be time to tell him later. For now, I was
mostly jealous of the fact he had such easy access to a young boyfriend who
was willing to send him explicit photos. It was an arrangement guaranteed
to breed envy in a boylover like me.

I took myself off for a walk, to think for a while. It occurred to me that
a lot had happened over the weekend. Things I couldn't have imagined
happening in such a short space of time. My thoughts drifted back to the
early hours of the morning, and the wonderful gift Aidan had given me,
without quite realising what he'd done. Never would I have dreamed that I
could have such an experience with a boy without feeling guilty, and yet he
had made the move, he had approached me in my sleep, he had, without
prompting from me, brought me to a shuddering peak.

Other things, too. Finally speaking the truth to my parents. Well, part of
the truth. They couldn't, to paraphrase, handle the truth. Not the whole
thing. But the relatively sanitised version? They could cope with that, and
had, admirably so. Perhaps it was the fact that my mother had suspected it
for more than a decade. She'd certainly had time to come to terms with it.

And becoming a mentor in the realm of homosexuality for a young boy who,
let's face it, probably didn't know what he was or what he felt, no matter
how certain he was about things. Who knows whether or not a boy that young
can possibly know? Gay friends have said they were sure from their earliest
memories that men were fanciable, and women not, but then plenty of boys
hero worship without it meaning anything sexual. I can't even remember
thinking the first thing about it, at least in relation to myself, until I
suddenly realised that the very strong feelings of comradeship I had for a
friend were probably more than just that.

Letting my mind wander had allowed my feet to do the same, and it occurred
to me that I was quite lost. I cast around for signs of where I was, but
other than being at the end of a small lane with a few houses further up, I
didn't have a clue. I was beginning to panic, when my phone buzzed in my
pocket, and I let out an involuntary groan. I can be remarkably thick at
times, so dense that I don't remember that the key to navigating to almost
any point on the surface of the globe is sitting in my pocket.

But before I opened Google Maps, I took a look at the message.

It was from Aidan, and he'd sent me a selfie looking sad, with the text
"Where are you? I'm bored...". Just the slightest interaction with him was
enough to make my heart race, but this was something else entirely. I felt
like I was floating on air. This cute little lad was craving my
attention. I'm not naive enough to think for a second that it was because
he fancied me, but just the fact that he turned to me when bored was enough
to make me feel on top of the world.

I text back that I was out for a walk, and that I was on my way back, and
then received a reply telling me to hurry, and that he had something to
show me. He signed off with a winking emoji, and at that point my
imagination went into overdrive, and my heart rate sped up to match it. All
the way back to the house, I imagined what it might be, from the mundane to
the truly depraved, and I fluctuated between allowing my fantasies to run
wild, and desperately holding them in check so that I wasn't disappointed
when it eventually turned out to be something mundane.

As it turned out, I was off the mark with all my guesses, but what Aidan
had to show me was definitely worth going back for.

- - -

I found him in the garden, playing some game with a few of the remaining
kids; it was one of those obscure games made up on the spot with rules
which were fluid, and usually set by the kid who shouted the loudest. He
quickly excused himself when he saw me, and beckoned me to follow him
further out into the garden.

He led me around the back of a tall conifer tree, where no-one from the
house could see us. I was beginning to have serious reservations regarding
his need for privacy, but I went along with it because I'd not yet seen any
reason to refuse him.

When we were sufficiently hidden from view, Aidan turned to me, though he
was looking at the ground and twisting his hips rhythmically, in the
fashion of someone wanting to ask something but not sure they should.

"Uh, Zack...? Um, do you remember when I said I thought you were a pedo?"

I looked at him slightly aghast. Where the hell was this going?

"I remember you saying it, yes."

"You didn't exactly say you didn't like boys, did you? You just said you
weren't like some of the others."

I sighed heavily, This was getting into territory I wasn't sure I wanted to
explore.

"What do you want, Aidan?" I asked, sounding a little more annoyed than I
had intended.

"Well, do you like boys?"

This was a trap if I ever saw one. But there was something in Aidan's tone
which made me less wary than I might have been. He seemed to be asking
genuinely, not with the motive of getting me to admit it. I think he
probably knew the answer, too, but for some reason he needed confirmation.

"Yes," I sighed. "Yes, I do. Now, what's the matter?"

He raised his eyes to mine and grinned.

"I have something for you," he said, puling his phone out of his
pocket. Immediately I sensed this was something I didn't want to get
involved with.

"No, Aidan, whatever it is, don't."

He looked crestfallen.

"But he..."

"Jesus, Aidan, who is `he'?"

"Freddy. He wanted to say thank you."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Aidan, what have you done?"

"It wasn't my idea, it was his. I told him how nice you've been to me. And
I might slightly have told him you were a pedo, and so he said he would
take a picture for you."

"You told him that? Oh, fuck, I'm done. If anyone ever reads your messages
and saw what you said, I'd be in deep shit, Aidan."

He looked at me, horrified.

"But why would you be in trouble?"

"Because they would assume I'd done something to you, and that's how you
knew."

"But you haven't. I would tell them that."

"But they wouldn't believe you, mate. And then they'd make a shed load of
trouble for me. I keep myself to myself, mostly, but I have written some
stories and they would find that out. Shit, Aidy, I could be in serious
trouble."

"Well, I'll delete the messages."

"I think you'd better. And the pictures."

"He didn't send a picture, actually."

"Well, thank fuck for that."

"No, he sent me a video."

I put my head in my hands and groaned.

"OK, you're going to have to delete that, and the messages, and hope no-one
ever tries to recover the data on your phone."

"OK, I will, I promise. Sorry."

He looked up at me, but did nothing.

"Well?" I asked.

"Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to delete the message and the video."

"Um, can I do it later?"

"I'd rather you do it now, mate!"

"Oh, OK. It's just I was going to watch it, and..."

He blushed strongly. He didn't need to finish the sentence for me to know
exactly what he planned to do.

"Fine," I said. "Take it away and watch it one last time and do whatever
you're going to do with it. Just please delete it after."

"Don't you want to see it just once?" he asked, the corner of his mouth
curling into the hint of a sly smile.

"Yes, obviously. But no. If I see it, I'll be guilty of something or
other. Abuse, probably."

"But he wanted to do it. You didn't ask him."

"No, but I'm sure it's still bad, Aidan."

"Why? He knows what he's doing. He's had sex, right up the bum and
everything."

"Oh, God, Aidan, I didn't need to know that."

"Well, he has. So what if he wants you to see him doing stuff. He should be
allowed to show you."

"Aidan, when you're older, you'll understand. I can't watch that video."

"I still don't get why not!" he almost shouted, and before I could stop him
he'd flicked on his phone and started the video, and there Freddy was.

I tried to object, but the words died in my mouth. The sight of his naked
form swept aside all my strength, all my conviction, all my moral
rectitude. It was truly the most astonishingly erotic sight I'd ever
witnessed.

Freddy was slight to the point of fragility. I could tell this because he
was completely, totally naked, as far as I could tell. The focus was very
much on that part of him which made him a boy - his thin little dick, and
below it a little hemispherical pouch, pinker than the skin around
it. Beyond, slightly out of focus, I could see his face - his mouth hung
open and he panted slightly, and there was a deep blush in his cheeks which
extended down over his chest, as far as I could see.

For the first few seconds he was just showing off, pushing his unimaginably
stiff, hairless little spike upright, until the veins stood out on the side
and the head flared within it wrapping of skin. He rolled back his
foreskin, and then let go, and it rolled itself back into place. His
helmet, briefly glimpsed, had been deep burgundy, and engorged to the point
that it shone like a polished gem.

The camera lowered, and his pale pucker came into view. His legs lifted up,
and the pucker, which looked damp or greased, I couldn't tell, eased itself
open without any sign of tightness, until it was dilated at least as wide
as my thumb is thick. A hand snaked into view, and without teasing or
ceremony, he pushed a finger deep inside, right up to the knuckle on his
hand. He worked it in and out a few times, then without any apparent effort
added a second finger, and a third. He pushed them as deep inside as he
could, wriggling his wrist in an effort to plunge them deeper, before
pulling them free.

The view panned up to his dick again, which he wanked a few times, then up
to his face. He grinned broadly, his eyes twinkling, and then the video cut
off.

It couldn't have been more than thirty seconds long. A teaser trailer, no
more. An example of what Freddy had to offer, and what Aidan (lucky little
bastard) had on tap. I stood there mute, unable to form any kind of
sentence in the maelstrom of my mind. I shook like a leaf, adrenaline
ravaging my body. I'd never seen anything like it in my entire
life. Nothing so utterly fulfilling of my desires. Nothing had ever come
even remotely close to that thirty second clip.

I tried to swallow, and found my mouth completely parched. Aidan was
looking up at me with the look a puppy gives you when it brings you
something it hopes you really wanted. I could do nothing but stare at him,
unblinking.

"I told you it was good," he whispered. "Did you like it?"

I nodded, and finally found my voice.

"Yeah, it was... amazing. But please, don't show me again."

"You're really stiff," he said, glancing down. I looked down to see the
tent pushing at his own crotch.

"So are you."

"Do you want to?"

"What?"

"You know... wank off and stuff."

"I shouldn't, Aidy. Not with you."

Ne nodded, looking slightly glum.

"It's OK, I get it. Anyway, I'm happy you saw it and liked it."

I nodded, and he turned back to the phone, swiftly deleting the video and
the message thread containing it.

"I'm going to go now," he said, reaching into his pants and pulling his
dick upright, wedging the tip of it in the waistband of his shorts. I
gasped, and he looked up at me.

"Oh my God!" he laughed, pulling down the front of his shorts and pants,
showing me his slightly-thicker-than-his-boyfriend's dick, which looked
thoroughly inflamed. It was just as hairless as Freddy's, but it had a
fatter little pouch down below, and his foreskin could barely contain the
bulging tip. I no longer had the willpower to object, and so instead I
looked, hungrily. The flash only lasted a second before we heard one of the
kids calling for him, and he pulled up the waistband.

"Catch you later," he said, casually, and walked off, leaving me to slump
to the ground with my head spinning.

- - -

It was a while before I was able to stand again. The adrenaline high lasted
a long time, and I sat on the floor with my head in my hands and shook like
a heroin addict going cold turkey.

I had made a mess of my pants, and it seeped through, wetting both my
underwear and my jeans, and so I had to plot a circuitous route back
through the house to my room which kept me out of sight of the other
guests. Once there, I surveyed the damage. Semen had darkened my whole
crotch, and it had started to dry.

No longer giving a fuck if Aidan happened to walk in on me, I stripped
there and then in the middle of the room, and groaned at the sight of my
pubes, matted with cum. It was times like that I wondered why I didn't just
have the lot of it lasered off; it would certainly be a lot easier to clean
if I had an accident.

Standing under the warm spray of the shower, I tried to make sense of what
had just happened. Well, actually, that wasn't so hard. Young boys on the
cusp of puberty were always horny, and the things they did to exhibit and
explore their burgeoning sexuality defied any logical explanation. What had
stuck in my mind was Aidan's admission on Freddy's behalf - "he's had sex,
right up the bum and everything". Jesus.

I was prepared to accept it, too. Those fingers had disappeared far too
easily up his little chute for me to doubt Aidan's testimony for a
second. Which probably meant Freddy had been abused. Which made me feel
equal parts queasy, and turned on. Obviously the idea of a boy being abused
is terrible, but what if he'd liked it? He'd shown every sign that he
enjoyed being stretched back there, if his pulsing little dick was anything
to go by.

I squashed the thought. It wasn't right, no matter how much Freddy liked
it. If it was an adult who'd done that to him, they should be ashamed of
themselves for giving in to their base urges. If it was an older friend - a
teenager, perhaps - they should still take a long look at themself.

- - -

Our third and last night at the house was to be quite unlike the other
two. No entertainment was planned, and for dinner I had ordered a massive
Chinese takeaway buffet, which I laid out on blankets on the lawn. As the
sun went down, we sat around in loose groups and ate, while the kids played
all around us.

I talked to a few people, and it seemed the news of my coming out had
spread like wildfire. There was, as I always hoped there might be from my
arty, eclectic family, an overwhelmingly positive response.

The funniest moment came when my aunt was talking to me about it - and of
course suggesting that she always knew - when she suddenly realised Aidan
was sat next to me.

"Oh, sorry, Aidan, you probably don't know what we're talking about," she
said.

"No, it's OK, I know all about being gay," he replied, cheerfully.

My aunt cocked her head on one side and looked him up and down. He was
wearing a small, but not overly tight green t-shirt, a pair of exceedingly
skinny faded red cut-off trousers and a pair of Hawaiian patterned Havianna
flip-flops. His blonde hair was neatly combed to the side, and he peered
owl-like out from his glasses.

"Yes, I dare say you do..." she said, knowingly.

Aidan blushed deep red and said nothing more.

As evening faded to night, the sleepy, younger members of the party were
taken off to bedrooms by their parents. Those who remained sat around
drinking wine and talking in hushed tones as the stars came out
overhead. Burning torches were dotted around among blankets, and one by one
we ended up lying down, looking up at the sky.

My uncle Howie (though he wasn't an uncle really, just some sort of
indescribable relation) knew all about the stars, so as we lay and listened
he captivated us with his knowledge, describing constellations and telling
tales of the incredible sights he had seen through his telescope.

As we lay there absorbing it all, Aidy leaned into me and put his head on
my shoulder. I wrapped an arm around him, and he snuggled right into my
side. This was love - fraternal, not sexual - and it felt wonderful. For
the first time in my life, I began to wonder what it would be like to have
a son of my own.

- - -

I slept well. Too well. I had meant to be up at eight, getting the house
ready to give back to the lettings agency, but it was gone nine by the time
I was woken by a banging at the door. It was Clare.

"Is he up?"

"What do you reckon?" I grinned, as I blinked away the sleep in my eyes.

"Can I come in?" she asked.

"Of course you can!"

Clare came past, and I followed her into the room and sat down on my bed as
she tried to rouse Aidan.

"Go away!" came the muffled reply, and Clare sighed, turned around and sat
down.

"Thanks for keeping an eye on him these past few days, Zack. It's been more
helpful than you realise."

"It's fine, really. Aidan's been polite and helpful. I couldn't have asked
for a better roommate."

Clare gave a rueful smile.

"That's the Aidan we haven't seen for a while. He's been so grouchy
lately."

An indecipherable complaint came from under the covers, but he didn't peek
his head out and say anything.

"Well, he's been a delight for me."

Clare smiled again, but then her expression turned serious.

"Thanks for all the other stuff, too. The advice, the chats."

That did rouse Aidan. He threw back the covers, revealing himself to be
topless. I couldn't quite tell, but I thought I saw a hint of naked hip,
too, and wondered if perhaps he'd taken off everything in the night.

"Mum, I'm right here, you know. You can't just talk about stuff like that."

"Stuff like what, sweetie?" she asked, her voice the definition of
innocence.

"You know... about what you talked about with Zack, about me."

Clare sighed and rolled her eyes.

"OK, sweetie, whatever. Just get up, get clean and get your bag
packed. We're leaving in an hour."

Aidan groaned and fell back onto the pillow, covering himself back
up. Clare gave me a raised eyebrow, and stood and left without another
word.

Once she had left, Aidan pulled the covers right over his head, shutting
out the world. I went to take a shower, and by the time I came out a
quarter of an hour later, he still hadn't moved. Thinking that it hardly
mattered any more, and that his back was turned anyway, I dropped my towel
right there in the room and started to get dressed. It was only when I'd
just finished pulling on my boxers that I noticed he was no longer hiding,
and was instead sitting up, looking straight at me.

"You have a nice one," he whispered.

"It's not very big," I countered, which was true. But I was narcissistic
enough to agree with him that yes, it was a nice shape.

"Don't mind," Aidan replied, with a shrug. "Way bigger than mine at any
rate."

His hand was pushed down beneath the covers, and though his little spike
was covered up, it was quite obvious he was playing with it.

"I think it's time you went for a shower," I said, trying to be the
responsible one. But my little brain down below wouldn't let things lie
without butting in, and I followed up with, "Looks like you could do
sorting a few things out."

Aidan shot me a dirty look, and then grinned, and unceremoniously threw
back the covers.

He was naked, of course, and perfect. He was more sporty than I gave him
credit, if the tone of his body was anything to go by. And of course, there
was the three-and-a-half inch, bald, iron-stiff, quivering spike which
jutted up from his groin like a ballistic missile ready for launch.

I shook my head, unaffected by the display, because I knew that his heart -
and his willy - belonged to someone else. Aidan grinned at me, stuck out
his tongue, and waltzed off to take his shower.

- - -

Half an hour later, Aidan picked up his bag and turned to leave, giving me
a shy half-smile. He was all the way to the door, and about to open it,
when he stopped and turned back to me. I could see the indecision in his
eyes, but then they hardened, and he dropped the back and walked back to
me.

He looked up at me expectantly, but I didn't quite understand what he
wanted. Aidan wasn't to be put off by my ignorance, though - he reached up
and put his hand on the side of my face, pulling downwards, and stood up on
tiptoes, until I could feel his hot breath on my lips.

The penny finally dropped, and I leaned a little further forward, until our
lips touched. He was hesitant at first, despite his boldness in coming back
for the kiss, but as he grew used to the sensation, he became more active,
melting into me until my arms were around his shoulders, and his were
around my waist.

We kissed, it seemed, far too briefly before Aidan pulled away. He was
flushed, and panting, and there was quite an obvious tent in the front of
his jeans. We both looked down at it at the same moment, and then he looked
back up into my eyes.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, while his hand automatically drifted down to push
against the lump. "I didn't think it would do that!"

I smiled warmly at him.

"Go now, go home before I do something we both regret. And for God's sake
don't let your mum keep you away from Freddy."

"Thanks," he said with a cute blush. "I won't."

And with that, he picked up his bag, flashed me one last, brilliant grin,
and walked out of the room.