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Any characters portrayed in this story are fictional and not representative of anyone living or dead.

 

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The Smell of Fresh Apples.

 

Part 3 of 3.

 

Beech House – memories, and plans for when I'm gone.

 

I look around my old bedroom at the familiar furniture and feel a sense of spirituality invading my whole being. Four years is a long time to be away from an old and dear friend, and my home has been just that for most of my life. Beech House was my refuge from loneliness; from sorrow when I bought it after my parents died; almost my whole life before Seamus appeared at my back door, and then it became a place of love and happiness. But I knew from intuition that it was special the moment I first walked up the drive to inspect it after the old lady who lived here had passed away. It had a nice feeling about the place; one of those feelings that sit well with you; a special presence. And knowing that I'm going to die here is so important to me. Yes, even though I know I'm at Death's Door, I'm completely at peace with myself. Even more so when familiar lips kiss my forehead and I hear Seamus say, "Get these teeth in Old Man. That's it. You look a bit like the old Peter now."

 

I chuckle. "Good lad. Where's Franz?"

 

Seamus hands me the photograph. "He's here. I think he's been asleep in that bloody wardrobe. How long is it since you took him out?"

 

"I can't remember. What does it matter? He's with us now. Put my glasses on for me please."

 

When Seamus puts them on, I look at the photograph of the beautiful boy who died far away from home and almost in solitude. Almost. Well not quite almost. He died in the arms of a young man who loved him, and I'm 100% certain that Franz knew that. It was in his beautiful eyes. He knew, just as I know now that I won't be alone when I leave this mortal coil. And of all the things that happen in life, departing really is such sweet sorrow providing one is not alone. I take one last look at him, kiss his lips, and hand the photograph to Seamus. "Franz is yours now. Look after him. Where's that vixen of a wife of yours?"

 

Seamus takes the photograph from me, and says, "She's on her way up here. She's staying with us."

 

"Until the end?"

 

"Don't say that!"

 

Although my brain may be a bit worn out nowadays, there's nothing wrong with my eyes, and I see the tear run down my boy's cheek, so I reach up with my one arm that works and wipe it away. "We need to talk about it Seamus. It will help you if we do. Where's Mam's lucky charm?"

 

"It's around your neck you daft old bugger... where do you think it is?!"

 

I reach up and feel at it, and the moment I feel it in my fingers, I can see mam's face. I look at Seamus again. "She's with me. I just hope she doesn't want to get in my bed when I get up there."

 

Seamus laughs. "You'll have to kick dad out first. He'll be putting her up the stick again if I know him."

 

My funny boy. He's always had a turn of phrase that tickles my funny buds... especially when he was a boy.

 

***************************

 

When Seamus was a boy. (Peter closes his eyes and relaxes to let the memories come flooding back.) 

 

"Don't push too hard! It won't fit up there yet! Just pretend it is."

 

I laughed. "I'm not trying to put it up. I just want to tickle it."

 

"And what about tickling my thingy?"

 

"Play with it yourself."

 

"You play with it."

 

"I would if I could reach, but I'm using both hands here."

 

Ever the expert at make-do-and-mend, Seamus fell on the bed from the doggy position and rolled onto his back. Then he lifted his twelve year old Beautiful Boy Legs onto his chest and hoisted his lovely bottom up so I could get at him, grinned, and said, "I'll tickle it on my bottom for you while you do me."

 

"That will be nice. What are you going to do when it happens?"

 

"Mind your own business. Get on with it before I get cramp in me legs."

 

I grinned at him. "You get on with it. You're the one doing the tickling."

 

Then he became serious when he was working the unsheathed head of my penis quite hard against his sphincter while I was masturbating him. "Is it nice?" he asked in that lovely voice of his that was just beginning to break.

 

I nodded and blew him a kiss. "It's wonderful."

 

He smiled into my eyes. "It is for me too. I like it. The feelings sort of go right through me. I'm not going to last long doing it this way."

 

"Is it that nice?"

 

"Uhuh! It will be even nicer when I can get it in."

 

"Is that what you really want?"

 

He nodded. "Yes. I've always wanted to do that with you."

 

"Why?"

 

"Dunno. Just do."

 

His face began to contort, and his head took on the familiar position of lying sideways on the bed. The hands that were using me to massage his stretched sphincter began to work harder, even pulling me so half of my swollen head was inside him, so I redoubled my own efforts on his nail hard boy member that would soon eject a small amount of seminal fluid onto his belly. Then it happened: a beautiful, simultaneous climax while a man and a boy who love each other are having sexual intercourse. The fact that I wasn't fully penetrating him didn't matter. All that mattered was that we were sharing something that we'd been working up to for a while. Usually it was simple masturbation between his buttocks, but this time he left me partly inside him while I ejaculated, and then pulled me out so the rest of my ejaculate would go all over him down there. There... done... and I could tell by the look of satisfaction on his beautiful face that it was what Seamus wanted.

 

***********************

 

It began when he was almost twelve... taking what he wanted. Inhibitions had gone out of the window a while back and Seamus insisted he sit on my cock with it between his bum cheeks with my knob protruding from under his ballsac so he could ride me like a horse and watch my sperm shoot up my belly. He wouldn't even let me get hold of his cock just in case it blocked his view of me ejaculating. He had his own term of reference for that particular act: bareback riding. It derived from his love of horses, and he'd associated the act with breaking in a stallion. That was the beginning of his dominance over me. Only once had I suppressed that feeling of superiority. We were on the sofa and he said, "Let's fuck about."

 

I pushed him away from me, and said, "No Seamus! I don't want you swearing!"

 

He looked amazed when he said, "I know I haven't heard you swear, but you must swear sometimes."

 

I shook my head. "No Seamus... I just don't use bad language. I've never felt the need to, and I don't want you to swear while you're with me either."

 

He looked really abashed, and shrugged his shoulders. "Then what do I say if I want us to do stuff?"

 

"How about, can we do it or let's make love? That's how I see it. How do you see it?"

 

Another shrug of the shoulders. "I dunno. I suppose so with you, but..."

 

I interrupted him. "But not when you're eying the girls up, eh?"

 

He grinned. "Who said I liked girls?"

 

Who said I liked girls. I almost burst out laughing. When we first got together, I thought I'd dropped on a boy who was like me, a homosexual, but then I began to see signs that he liked girls. That was a conundrum in itself. I'd dropped on a boy who liked girls, and yet it was obvious that he enjoyed immensely what we did. That's why I took the opportunity then to try and get it out of him why he liked me that way, so I added, "So you do like men?"

 

He looked at me as if I was crazy. "No! I do like girls!"

 

"But why me then if you like girls?"

 

"You're different."

 

"In what way am I different?"

 

"I dunno. You just are. You don't think I'd do what we do with other men like I do it with you, do you?"

 

"That's what I'm trying to work out Seamus. Even you must realize that I often wonder why it is that you like me. I've tried to work it out, and I know you like girls because I've seen how you look at some of them... especially the ones with rather large breasts?"

 

Seamus giggled. "You don't miss much, do you?"

 

At that point, I hugged him to me and said, "Not with you I don't. I see everything you do. I've even looked to see if you look at other men, and..."

 

Seamus interrupted me then. "You've never seen me doing that!"

 

"No I haven't, and that's why I'm puzzled that we are as we are. Haven't you thought about it?"

 

Seamus put his arm around my chest and drew closer to me. "With you I'm that way, but not with anybody else. I don't know why. It's just how it is. I can't work it out either, so I don't bother thinking about it now. I just come here and do what we do, and I never feel guilty or anything like that." Then he giggled. "So I do it with you, then I go home and look at the girls, and then I come back here and do it with you again." He lifted his head and looked into my eyes. "It's because you're special. You always have been ever since I saw you. I knew the moment I looked at you that I wanted us to be like this, and I promise I won't swear again. I promise."

 

"Okay. So what do you want to do now?"

 

Seamus laughed into my face. "Make love! I was thinking while I was out on the scrap today about what we could do. I've thought of a new way of doing it."

 

I chuckled. "And what would that be my sexy little gypsy boy?"

 

"Bareback riding!"

 

***********************

 

Peter and Kathleen Quinn/O'Brien-that-was. (Kathleen is looking after Peter while Seamus is downstairs.)

 

"Do you like your cake, Peter?"

 

I look into Kathleen's beautiful dark gypsy eyes. "Yes. Thank you. But I can't eat much. It gets stuck in my throat. Can I have a drink of water please?"

 

"Sure. Let me lift you up a bit. You've slipped down the bed." She lifts me with one arm behind me and arranges the pillows, and then she lets me relax back into them. "Here you go. Don't get drunk."

 

I sip a few drops from the baby cup, and when she takes it away, I ask, "Where is he?"

 

"Downstairs... talking to the doctor."

 

We've made eye contact again when I say, "Look after him for me when I'm gone."

 

She brushes the hair back from my forehead and smiles at me. "I will, Peter. I promise. He's going to miss you, you know!"

 

I try to smile back at her. "I know. That's why you've got to be strong. Did I ever tell you that I was the happiest man in the world when you two got married?"

 

She grins. "I thought you'd be jealous."

 

"Jealous! Of what? A woman?"

 

She giggles. "Don't be so bloody cheeky, you dirty old man!"

 

Despite feeling really rough, I can't help but let out a sort of laugh at her comment. I'm on my last legs and we're still at it. It's how we've always been. We insult each other as a way of accepting each other. We've had to accept each other... for Seamus's sake. We have a shared love: Seamus. He's the one who's important, not us. But it wasn't always like that. In the beginning she hated me. I close my eyes and think about those times.

 

*********************

 

Taming The Vixen.

 

Seamus was distraught that day when he called, and it took me all day to get it out of him what the problem was. Apparently, Kathleen had given him an ultimatum. Stop seeing me or it was off. I can't say I blamed her. What woman would accept a man who was still seeing his boyfriend? Yes, the sex had ended between me and Seamus, and that was because he'd met Kathleen and he wanted to do it that way rather than do it with me. I didn't mind particularly. My sexual attraction has always been for young boys and not men, so it did us both a favour just so long as I didn't lose Seamus as a special friend and adopted son. But Kathleen didn't know that Seamus or I didn't need each other that way anymore. Our love had progressed beyond sex, and we'd both prepared for a life after. We made plans about his future, and Seamus made plans for mine. We'd still be friends - loving friends - and we'd still do our special social things like going to concerts and all the other things we did together that made us happy. But women don't think like that. They go barging in like a bull in a china shop and insist on owning their man. Lock, stock and barrel. It's why many marriages fail. It's why their marriage would fail if I didn't sort things.

 

Sort things. My God... I even had to brave those damned dogs to do that! Why? Because Kathleen had moved in with mam at Springfields and that was the only way to see her.

 

I waited until I knew Seamus was out on the scrap with his brothers, and then I drove to Springfields. I've fought in battles, but I was never as nervous as I was that day when I went to do battle with The Vixen.

 

************************

 

I avoided the snarling dogs and knocked on the caravan door. I thought mam would be out selling her charms and telling fortunes, but she wasn't, and she was even pleased to see me when she opened the door. "Come on in Peter. Called to have a cup of tea have you?"

 

Of course, she knew it wasn't a social call, but mam was as wise as an old owl and knew that what was about to happen, had to happen. And it did happen. The moment I went in Kathleen sneered at me and snarled, "Have you come to see your fickin' boyfriend?"

 

I looked right into her blazing eyes. "You mean my friend Seamus? Well, no I haven't actually. I've come to see the stupid woman that he wants to marry. You know... the one who thinks she owns him and hasn't known him for five minutes... the one who hasn't got enough brains in her head to know when she's onto a good thing. (I heard mam snigger while she was putting the kettle on behind me. She was enjoying it. I continued...) The stupid wench who thinks I'm a threat to her. Well let me tell you something, stupid wench... reject Seamus because he's friends with me and you'll never do a more idiotic thing in your life! Looking at you now and listening to that poisoned tongue of yours, that boy; mam's boy; yes, my boy even, is too good for you if you continue to act like a ten year old who wants a toy to play with. Seamus is a man... a good man... probably the best you'll ever find, so stop giving him ultimatums and grow up!"

 

Kathleen was almost spitting feathers when she snarled at me and said, "Who the fick do you think you are?"

 

I put on my best cool attitude even though I felt like strangling her. "Me? I'm a nobody; a nothing really in this world, but I love Seamus Quinn, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I've loved him ever since I set eyes on his scraggy little face, and I'll love him until the day I die, but I'm also a man who loves him enough to walk out of his life if I know it will make him happy. Now how much do you love him, stupid wench? Enough not to be jealous that he actually has friends like me who love him? Enough not to cut off your nose to spite your face because you'll never own him completely? What next after me? Mam? He loves his mam, and you'll never be able to come between them. How are you going to manage that?" Then I turned to mam and gave her a smile. "I think I'd better be off before she slips some cyanide in my cup. Sorry about all this mam."

 

Mam grinned at me. "Not at all me boy. Not at all. I'll tell Seamus you called and got past the dogs. He won't believe me."

 

So, even though my legs were like jelly, I managed to get past the dogs and get to my car, and then I drove home and cried my eyes out.

 

Seamus called later that day and sat next to me on the sofa. He knew what had gone on, and he knew by looking at me that I was upset. So he put his arm around my shoulders and hugged me. Then he chuckled when he asked, "How did you get past the dogs?"

 

I looked up at him. "I was in such a temper when I went there that I never noticed them. It was only when I came out that I made a mess in my pants. How's things?"

 

"Mam thinks the sun shines from up your arse."

 

"And the vixen?"

 

"She was sitting with mam when I got home, looking at mam's old wedding dress and discussing how it would fit."

 

"And me? Am I ostracized?"

 

Seamus grinned. "Not by me you're not, and I've told her outright... no Peter, no wedding."

 

"And?"

 

"She's not such a bad creature when you get to know her. She asked why you didn't swear. I told her that you were a man of high principles."

 

"Does she know about us?"

 

"What we used to do you mean?"

 

"Yes."

 

Seamus shook his head. "I've never told her, but she isn't daft. Not many boys spend years sleeping with a bloke without something is going on. But somehow, I don't think she's ever going to ask again."

 

"She's already asked?"

 

Seamus grinned. "Yes. I told her to mind her own bloody business. That's what started this lot off."

 

"Then why didn't you lie to her and say that nothing had ever happened?"

 

Seamus hugged me. "Because I'm not ashamed of what happened. Are you?"

 

I shook my head. "No. You were the most beautiful, sexy little man in the world, and I loved you and I enjoyed every minute of it."

 

"And now?"

 

I kissed his cheek. "And now I love the most fantastic man in the world; the man I'm proud to call my best friend... the young man who I look on as my special son."

 

Seamus hugged me again, rested his head on mine, and then got up. "Good, and I hope that's how it will always be. Now I'd better be getting back before she thinks I'm in bed with you again."

 

I chuckled. "We could try it."

 

Seamus chuckled. "It could never be the same, and I want all those memories to be precious to me." Then he winked at me. "I still have fantasies you know."

 

I grinned at him. "When you're..."

 

He put his fingers to his lips. "Shhhh. We all have secrets. How many times did you imagine Franz was in bed with you when I was?" Then he really grinned. "I've lost count of the times when I was pretending I was him when I was doing it with you. We even did it once in a foxhole while shells were bursting all around us. It was fantastic. Sort of the last time we ever did it before we both got killed."

 

I laughed and shook my head. "You always did have a vivid imagination."

 

Seamus winked at me. "So did you. That's why we were so good together. See you tomorrow."

 

 

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No tomorrows.

 

27th October 2005. 8.37am.

 

Death is beautiful.

 

I can hear the voices but the faces are blurred. But I know it's Seamus who is holding my hand and who has his arm under my head while he's kissing my face, and his warm tears are beautifully soothing as they fall onto my cheeks. I've often wondered what it would be like to die, and now I know. Nothing in life can prepare oneself for this moment. Death. I've seen it in many forms, and that's why I know none can be as beautiful as mine. That's why I'm easy with it. Why fight it? I'm in the arms of the urchin who stole my heart a long time ago: the person I love more than anything on this earth. It's so beautiful. So beautiful. Goodbye Seamus the gypsy boy. Goodbye my son. I love you Seamus.

 

 

Grief.

 

I know he's gone, but I don't want to believe it. I've tried to prepare myself, but nothing could have forewarned me of how it would really feel. I feel empty; hollow; drained of all emotions except intense grief as I hold the frail, lifeless body of my special friend in my arms. I heard his last words before he slipped away. They were whispered in my ear. I love you Seamus. No ambiguity. My Peter's last thoughts on this earth were of me. And then I wail like bloody donkey with two broken legs.

 

 

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The funeral and the planning for it.

 

Apart from mam's, they've never seen a funeral like this one before in Ramsbottom. The Quinns are in town, from all over the place, paying homage to the best friend of the Capo di tutti capi of the Quinn clan. Peter would be proud of me. I'm driving the six black Welsh Cobs as they pull the hearse... their coats so highly groomed that they're gleaming - in fully gypsy livery with brass harness and proud black feather plumes - and I've even got a top hat on and look like a bloody undertaker. My woman is by my side, dressed beautifully in a long black dress with a black lace veil. She's also wearing a black crocheted shawl that mam gave her years ago and told her she would need it at least three times and she hoped she wouldn't need it four. This is the third time she's worn it: first dad, and then mam, and now Peter. I've not popped my clogs yet. That will be the fourth time if I go before Kathleen does.

 

I don't need to look behind me at the chaos the three family horse drawn carriages and the long procession of gypsy 4X4's and wagons decked in flowers and black ribbons is causing as we wend our way through the town to the crematorium a mile from home. We've even got a police escort. It was all done proper. Me and Peter had planned it the day after I took him home. As he said: We need to talk about it Seamus. It will help you if we do.

 

*********************************

 

(The following conversation was very difficult because Peter was so weak.)

 

"Six black Welsh Cobs for the hearse carriage you know, in full gypsy funeral livery, and I'll be driving it, and all the Quinns will be there to honour the best friend of Seamus Quinn. God help any that don't turn up! ALL absentees will be fed to the pigs!" I said. 

 

Peter half smiled at my comments, and then asked, "Will Vixen be with you on the hearse carriage?"

 

"Of course! I think I'll need her... don't you?"

 

"She has her uses. What music will you play at the crematorium?"

 

"What do you want?"

 

Peter looked into my eyes. "You choose for me, please."

 

I shrugged my shoulders. "Okay. I've been thinking about it. There's two I'll definitely play, but there's one particular piece of music that will be played first. You know when I was a nipper and we used to sit with the lights out and watch the flames in the log fire?"

 

"I-spy and BBL?"

 

I giggled. "Yes, when I let the towel drop off and you made me do it."

 

Peter lifted his eyebrows. "I remember it differently. I was happily playing with your bottom and quite satisfied with that. Then I seem to recall that my hand finished up on your boy thing without even trying. It must have been a ghost that put it there. Carry on. What music will you definitely play first? Let me guess. Bach's Air on the G-string? (Hyperlink.)

 

I was amazed, and I asked him, "How did you know?"

 

Peter looked right into me, studied my face, tried (unsuccessfully because of how weak he was) to brush the hair back from my forehead, and smiled when he said, "There's nothing I don't know about my special boy. That Christmas Eve when you were fourteen? You'd had two sherries if I remember correctly, you little drunkard you!"

 

I grinned at him. "Three actually. I topped up when you weren't looking."

 

Peter smiled weakly. "Why does that not surprise me? Anyway, I remember it was snowing that Christmas. Carry on."

 

"You're right Peter. Large flakes drifting down around the beech tree and the front lawn was covered in snow and we were snuggled together on the sofa with no lights on and just the logs burning in the fireplace lighting up the room. We'd already pulled a Christmas cracker I'd sneaked off the tree and was wearing a red paper crown that kept tickling your face, so you told me to take it off. Then Bach's Air on the G-string came on and I hugged you tight and snuggled into you."

 

Peter squeezed my hand. "I remember. I rested my head on the top of yours and we listened quietly to the music. I never said anything, but I knew you were crying. I've often wondered why you were crying that night. Why did you cry?"

 

I stroked the locks of grey hair and looked into the still beautiful blue eyes of the man who made me what I am. "I was crying because I'd had a rotten day in so many ways. Everything that could have gone wrong, did go wrong. Mam sent us out on the scrap even though it was snowing and it was Christmas Eve, and all day I was frozen to the marrow. Even Sally went lame that day and we could only put light scrap on the cart so as not to make her worse, but knowing that if we didn't get something that day then mam would have given us a right rollicking and called us bone idle. So when we got back, as soon as we'd sorted stuff, I ran all the way to you. You'd done a hot-pot with lots of lamb in it because you knew I'd be cold and hungry, and when I had a bath that night, you came and knelt by the bath and you bathed me and washed my hair and kept talking to me and sort of took all my troubles away. Then we went downstairs and snuggled on the sofa in front of the log fire and listened to music. All my cares had gone... everything, and I was wrapped in the love and warmth of the kindest, gentlest and most loving person in the world. It was like being in heaven. I was so comfortable with you that night that even that didn't enter my mind... and that was a first!"

 

I heard Peter sort of giggle, and he whispered, "That's because you'd made me do it for you in the bath."

 

I giggled. "I let you off lightly. Anyway, I know we did that... but that was never what it was really about, was it?"

 

(I have to lean in close to hear Peter's words.) "No Seamus, it was never about that. That became a part in sealing what we had. I loved that scruffy little Pikey kid the first time I set eyes on him. You were like an Archangel knocking on my door."

 

I chuckled. "An Archangel! That's a good `un! If you'd have buggered me off I would probably have pinched your wheelbarrow or something. Anyway, after I first saw you, I knew you were special, and instinct made me trust you completely. And you never let me down once. A posh bloke treated a Pikey as a proper human being. You asked nothing of me except that I didn't swear. So I didn't, and can I tell you something else?"

 

"Yes."

 

"I've never sworn since. Anywhere. People even comment on it. I'm actually a famous Pikey because I don't. The Pikey who doesn't swear. You couldn't make it up."

 

Peter chuckled. "Like a Pikey crying on Christmas Eve while Bach's Air on the G string is playing? So what will you be thinking about when it's playing this time in the crematorium?"

 

I held the frail hand a little tighter. "I'll be thinking about that Christmas Eve. It was the most beautiful moment of my whole life."

 

"With a smile... or tears?"

 

"Both. What am I going to do without you Peter?"

 

"Get on with life. Just be yourself."

 

"But we're not ourselves, are we? We think we're individual, but we're not. We're a hodgepodge of the people who have had an influence on us, and the experiences we've been through."

 

Peter smiled at me. "There you see, I told you that you were special. Not many people understand that. So remember it when you carry out our plans for Beech House. Make sure the kids that come here leave with a positive experience to take with them through their lives. And what other piece of music will you play that's important to you?"

 

"Tony Newley singing I'll Walk Beside You."

 

Our eyes met and held, and then Peter said, "Always. Never forget that. Now would you mind if I have a nap? I'm exhausted."

 

I smiled at him, tucked his frail hand under the bedclothes, kissed his forehead, and left him to his dreams. I didn't realize then that we would never have a proper conversation again. Later that evening, when the doctor called, he said Peter was slipping away, so I sat with him all night... our favourite soft, soothing music playing in the background. I snoozed. The dawn came. Kathleen brought me some tea and toast. I ate it, went to the bathroom, and when I came back, I heard it. The death rattle. No sense in prolonging it. I lifted Peter up to remove his pillows and lay him flat. He didn't quite make it. I heard his last words before he slipped away in my arms. They were whispered in my ear. I love you Seamus.

 

***************************

 

Kathleen is linking my arm as I'm keeping the horses steady. She asks, "Are you alright?"

 

I look at the six beautiful beasts proudly doing their duty, and then at the throng of folk assembled by the gate to the crematorium. Pikeys mostly, and I'm proud of them. I know they're not here for Peter... they're here paying their respects to me in my time of need because I've lost my best friend. But few of them realize that indirectly they are paying their respects to Peter. 

 

"But we're not ourselves, are we? We think we're individual, but we're not. We're a hodgepodge of the people who have had an influence on us, and the experiences we've been through."

 

And the greater part of me is Peter Powell.

 

I lean over and kiss Kathleen's black veil. "With you I can get through anything. I love you. Peter loved you."

 

She squeezes my arm and presses her head against my shoulder while silent tears fall behind the black veil.

 

 

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While she sheds tears, Kathleen recalls the old days.

 

My man Seamus is my rock; my strength; my everything. I had a girly crush on him when he was 10 years old. But I wasn't the only one. He was always special, and all us girls talked about him when he strutted about like a regal prince when he was at Appleby Horse Fair. Even when he was young it was obvious that he was going to be a big man: he could ride a horse like a man even when he was little. Then talk got around that he was a homosexual. None of us could believe it... him seeing a man. But he was, and I was probably the most angry person in the world about it. But it made no difference to Seamus. He knew about the talk, but he didn't care.

 

When I was fifteen I asked him how he liked being a queer. He just laughed at me and told me that he was his own man and that he'd do what the bloody hell he wanted whenever he wanted, and he was never ashamed of anything he'd done in his life, and if small-minded people wanted to label him, then that was fine by him too. He said he just didn't care as long as those who were important to him didn't judge him.

 

I asked him if I was important to him. He looked right into eyes and said, "Yes, providing you accept me for what I am."

 

I looked back into his eyes, and asked him, "And what are you?"

 

He grinned. "I might just show you one day."

 

So... for the next year, whenever our paths crossed, I would tease him about what he'd said. He decided to teach me a lesson. It was at the horse fair in 1968.

 

He was eighteen and I was sixteen. We were at a gypsy feast by the riverbank, and it was almost midnight. There was dancing and music and all sorts going on around the massive fire where the pig was being roasted. Seamus was opposite me across the other side of the fire, and he was drinking. I saw him looking at me and grinning; his handsome face lit up by the flames from the fire. Then he got up and came around the fire and yanked me to my feet. His gorgeous green eyes looked right into me, and I knew right away that it was going to happen. That was the night that he shoved all the taunts back into the faces of those who had labeled him. He never spoke a single word as he danced with me, and I knew everybody was watching us. Even if I'd wanted to I couldn't have rejected him. I was like a straw in his powerful grip, and he did literally sweep me off my feet. Then he swept me off to prove that he was a match for any man.

 

I was a virgin when I went to the fair, but I most certainly wasn't when we left. And my breasts were sore for a week after. He loved them, and they loved him. For a `homosexual', he did a damned good job on me, and I knew that what he knew had never been learned from a man. He knew how to make that-down-there feel in top form, and he could induce me to multiple orgasms in one session of his special loving. At the end of the week he told me that I was now his woman, and that if I didn't like it then I was to make sure not to look at him again. I did, and eighteen months later my family were living at Springfields and we were planning our wedding. Well, until I made a big mistake that is.

 

By then I knew all about him and Peter, and it festered in my craw. He was still spending a lot of time with Peter, and whenever I asked what they were doing, he would just ignore me. Then I made an almost fatal mistake of asking him if he was having it off with Peter. He told me to mind my own business. I told him it was my business, and that if he didn't stop seeing Peter then the wedding was off. It was just before he was going out to work on the scrap. He just shrugged his shoulders and said that was fine, and that I should cancel everything. I ran to mam and told her what he'd said. She had little sympathy with me. I remember her words to this day. "You take him as he is, or not at all. And you'll never come between him and Peter. Even I wouldn't go there, so time to make up your mind girl."

 

Then Peter got wind of what had gone on and came storming round to rollick me big time. When I asked man what to do after he'd buggered off in a temper, she just laughed and said it was time to make up my mind. And then she went rooting and got her old wedding dress out. We looked at each other and burst out laughing. That's when I knew my place in the scheme of things. Seamus loved me, but I could never own him. And what he and Peter did was never to be my business. Only the once did he hint that there was nothing happening with Peter when we became a couple. I was on my bad week and told him he'd have to go and see Peter if he was feeling randy. The moment I said it I was terrified that he might blow his top, but he didn't. Instead, he just gave me one of his cheeky grins, and said, "That's a shame. Peter's been on his period for a long time now, so I'll go and have it off with somebody on my rounds. It's surprising what you can get for a couple of goldfish and a few balloons."

 

But at least I learned something from that little spat. Peter's been on his period for a long time now... So that meant he hadn't always been on his periods, which meant that he and Seamus were an item at some point in time, but they weren't Now! So I never went there again. But it did become a fun thing with us. Quite often I'd tease him, and he'd just grin once he realized that I'd come to accept that it would never interfere with what we were, and he always said the same thing, "Mind your own business woman! Just keep reminding yourself how lucky you were that I chose you."

 

************************

 

And I often remind myself how lucky I am. My Seamus is a man of high principles, and he's the most loyal person in the world. That's why I'm crying now as I sit beside him on the hearse carriage. Behind us the body of the man he loved more than any other on this earth, and Seamus has remained loyal to Peter right to the end. There will be wagging tongues amongst the clans, but they know nothing. I'm not sitting beside Seamus under sufferance... I'm here because I love my man, and also because the man he loved was also very special to me. My Seamus would have not have been the man he is without he was mentored by Peter, and I would not have had all I have without him either. Mr and Mrs Seamus Quinn are Peter's legacy, as are Megan and our beautiful grandson, Jack.   

 

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Bach's Air on the G string and I'll Walk Beside You. (These are hyperlinks to both pieces of music.)

 

I have my eyes closed. Kathleen is linking my left arm and Megan my right. I'm swaying to the beautiful music.

 

Large flakes drifting down around the beech tree and the front lawn was covered in snow and we were snuggled together on the sofa with no lights on and just the logs burning in the fireplace lighting up the room. We'd already pulled a Christmas cracker I'd sneaked off the tree and was wearing a red paper crown that kept tickling my face until you told me to take it off. Then Bach's Air on the G string came on and I hugged you tight and cried because I was so happy.

  

The music ends. I open my eyes and look at the casket that contains only the mortal parts of what Peter was. His spirit is not in there. I am Peter, and with Peter comes Franz, so now I am three.

 

A prayer from the old vicar, and then Tony Newley sings I'll walk Beside You.

 

I'll walk beside you through the passing years

Through days of cloud and sunshine, joy and tears

And when the great call comes, though sunset gleams

I'll walk beside you through the land of dreams.

 

I smile through my tears when I get the scent of fresh apples. The old bugger is still with me, and that means Franz is too. It's like a merry-go-round in a bloody orchard. Well, that's what mam will be thinking, and I'll bet she's waiting for Peter at the Pearly Gates with a bunch of gypsy herbs and a few charms she's blessed with holy water from a spring somewhere in Ireland. She'll have Peter back on his feet before you can say Franz is waiting for you.

 

 

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Beech House Residential Home For Boys. 2013.

 

(Kyle Stevens, aged fourteen, has been a resident there since November 2009.)

 

"Right boys. Time for bed."

 

All the others pull their faces, but not me. I want to go to bed to see if get the smell of fresh apples again when I do it. "Goodnight mum. Thank you for today."

 

Mrs Pearson looks at me with her kindly eyes. "You're welcome Kyle. Make sure you clean your teeth before you get in bed."

 

"I will mum. Goodnight."

 

********************

 

I came to Beech House six months after Social Services removed me from my home and my brutal dad who used to beat me simply because he was in a bad mood, and my mam who was out of her head on drugs most of the time. Too many bruises for him to get away with it once I'd turned nine. The truth came out... all of it, including him making me watch him do sex with mum to punish me. I was placed in care. Temporary foster homes until they gave me a place here when I was ten years old. I love it here with Mr and Mrs Pearson. They're like my mum and dad now, and Matt and Ashton and Connor and Ben are like my brothers. That's it. There's only five of us and Mr and Mrs Pearson at Beech house. And all us kids have a got a bedroom each. It's brilliant. My bedroom used to be a big one when the house was first built... the main one in the house, but it was all altered when it was left to Social Services by the man who died: Peter Taylor. Now I've got half of his bedroom that was, but it's still plenty big enough, and it's mine until I've grown up so Social Services say, providing I keep my nose clean that is. It's a special place, funded by a man who owns a scrapyard in Manchester: Mr Quinn... Jacks grandfather. The scrapyard isn't all that far from where I used to live. But Ramsbottom is much nicer. I like it here. I like Mr Quinn. He's a big bloke with blond/grey curly hair who makes us laugh when he comes here and tells us tales about when he was a boy collecting scrap in Ramsbottom. He and his wife Kathleen buy us all presents at Christmas. They always bring Jack with them whenever they come here. Jack looks like his grandmother. She's fabulous looking with fantastic black eyes that look right into you. She said I was almost the most beautiful boy she'd ever seen. I asked her why almost. She gave me that lovely smile and said Jack was special. I agree with her about Jack. He's fantastic looking, but he's got green eyes like his grandfather and not black ones like his grandmother. I fell for him the first time I saw him when he was little and came to Beech House, and I still love him now.

  

I'll be seeing him again soon. We're going to Appleby Horse Fair again. We do it every year. I can't wait. Jack always goes with us. But this time it will be different. We've sort of got a proper date instead of chatting to each other on BBM. I know he's a year younger than me, but because he's bigger than me and he's got a fantastic body, I don't care about that. All my fantasies now are of Jack making love to me with him on top and me underneath him. I use my finger now, but what I really want is Jack inside me. I can't help it if I'm gay, but I've never told anybody... not even Jack.

 

********************

 

I'm sure it's a ghost. I can make myself climax by just using a finger pushed up my bottom to stimulate my prostate gland, but then I sort of feel something hot around my cock just as I'm coming. It's as if I'm being sucked off, but that only happens when I get a whiff of fresh apples up my nose. Strange...  and it's happening now! Oh... fantastic! 

 

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We're all going to Appleby Fair.

 

The kids and Mr and Mrs Pearson are having a ball in the back of the 12 seater I've hired for the day. I'm driving; my five year old grandson Xander is next to me, and Kathleen the other side of him sitting in the double front passenger seat. They're all playing I-spy in the back, and Xander is looking between the seats to play with them. Kathleen has got a permanent grin on her face as she listens to what's going on while I wend my way to Appleby Horse Fair. This is our special day... their special day. I used to spend a week at the fair, but these days I travel up on three separate days, and one of them is always when I take the kids from Beech House to the fair, and this time I'm taking both grandkids with me now Xander isn't a baby.

 

I hear his familiar voice and look through the rear view mirror to see him.

 

Kyle Stevens. Kathleen loves him, and he's most definitely my favourite. He came to Beech House when he was ten, and now he's fourteen. He's an exuberant boy... always laughing... always smiling. So different from the little boy who first came to us with frightened eyes and a nervous tic and a hesitant stammer every time somebody spoke to him. From a really bad home and a father who beat him regularly as well as doing other horrible things to him. Kathleen cried when she heard what Kyle had been through. I nearly did, but instead I put a hand on his shoulder and told him he must forget about the past because he was now in a place where no harm would ever come to him. He soon settled and is now the bubbliest of all the kids. I know somebody who would have fallen in love with him as soon as he saw him. In fact I know somebody who is in love with him.

 

He and Jack are sitting together.

 

I-spy. Memories come flooding back to me. No BBL, but I chuckle loudly, and Kathleen asks me, "What are you giggling about?"

 

I wink at her, and then tell her a lie. "I was thinking what Billy O'Connell will say when I tell him he's got to feed this lot. I didn't tell him there was ten of us."

 

Kathleen laughs. "Last I heard was that he was roasting a pig. I hope it's not a suckling pig. He'll need half a dozen for this lot."

 

We laugh together, and then Kathleen strokes the back of Xander's head. Why does everything remind me of Peter? That's what he used to do to me. It's a tactile show of affection that really means something. More than words. The soft touch of a warm hand on the back of your head and you know whoever is doing it is telling you that they love you.

 

Jack laughs loudly in the back, so I steal a glance at him. He's thirteen years old now. Kathleen dotes on him. She often says that he's the spitting image of me when I was a nipper. He is, but he wears better clothes. And he goes to a private school. A day-pupil... not a boarder. He even talks posh. I love Jack's mother, our Megan, but I always wanted a boy. But Megan's birth had been a horrendous time for Kathleen, and she couldn't have any more kids after it. But at least we've got Jack and Xander... and Beech House. "Seamus, I once told you that you'll marry and have a child and two grandchildren, and you'll be happy, but it will be a man you love who will break your heart." Mam's prophetic words... and they've come true. Crazy woman! (Silent chuckle.)

 

Beech House. The plans we made, Peter and me, they all came to fruition. I used Peter's money that he left in the bank to convert it properly once Social Services were sorted. That took some doing. It was always our plans that it would become a children's home, but we never realized how much red tape would need to be waded through before it all came together. But it did... five years ago... two years after Peter died. The hardest thing for me to agree to was splitting our bedroom up. I made sure the lounge wasn't altered. That was sacrosanct, but our bedroom had to be changed to fit everybody in. Five kids maximum. That was the agreement, plus the foster parents. I didn't get any say in that. Social Services did it all, and they couldn't have chosen a more suitable couple than Helen and Bill Pearson as foster parents to the boys. They're fantastic people.

 

**********************

 

I look through the rear view mirror again, see that Kyle is looking at Jack, and I know right away what's happening. They're looking into each other's eyes.

 

How strange life is. No, there's no generation gap this time, but opposites are attracted again. I've seen it developing. I've heard it developing. I know it's developing!

 

Jack is like his father: a real clever-clogs. He's kept a diary every year since he was ten. At my place. He thinks it's safe from prying eyes there, and it is. I've looked at it, but my eyes are not prying ones. Mine are what protects him, and I can't protect him unless I know what's going on in his life. So I've looked at it. It took me a while to work out the code he uses to keep certain things private, but it's only a boyish one, and I cracked it once I understood what was going on. He has those feelings for Kyle. They talk to each other on their mobiles, and I know for a fact that they chat on Blackberry Messenger. I've seen Jack's phone. I shouldn't, but I couldn't resist once I suspected what was going on. Judging from the diary and the phone stuff, Kyle and Jack have been courting for almost a year now. How beautiful. Peter would have laughed his socks off. Kathleen did when I told her what I suspected... but I didn't go into proper detail, and she doesn't know that I know pretty much everything. She says Jack's got my daft genes. But she doesn't interfere. She knows better ever since Peter gave her a right rollicking. I don't know to this day exactly what he said to her, but mam couldn't stop laughing when she told me that Kathleen and Peter had had a spat. We never looked back after that, so it must have been something meaningful to have changed Kathleen's mind about him. She cried almost as much as me when Peter died. After the funeral, even though I didn't really cry during it, when I went to bed that night, I let it all out, and Kathleen held me tight and told me that Peter had said it was her job to look after me when he was gone. And she has. Some loves are made in Heaven, and I've known two.      

 

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Jack loves Kyle.

 

Kyle is beautiful. I liked him a lot the first time I saw him, and then I fell in love with him. And I know he loves me. He's told me so. Well, not to my face, but it doesn't matter that he said it on BBM. And today we're spending a whole day together. We've arranged to try and hold hands. It was Kyle who asked. I almost cried when I read: Jack, can we hold hands if we get the chance at the horse fair? I replied: Yes please. I very nearly added: and can we kiss and do stuff, but I didn't dare. I want to, but I'm not sure Kyle wants to do that. I haven't told him that I'm pretty sure I'm gay. Well, as far as Jack is concerned, I am. He's in my bed-thoughts every night.

 

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Kyle loves Jack.

 

I'm really nervous when Mr Quinn drives onto the car park and we all get out. I love it here. The place is buzzing. Has been ever since we got near the place. Gypsies and horses everywhere. Singing too. Gypsy songs. I look at Jack. He stretches his arms, which stretches his Manchester United shirt up, revealing the white football shorts he's wearing. He's wearing red and white Nike trainers and ankle socks, which displays his beautiful strong legs and the downy blonde hair on them. He's like his grandfather in build... strong and tall, and the sight of him unfurling his strength sends a shiver right through me. Jack is bigger and better looking than me, but he says he loves me. Jack the posh boy loves Kyle from Beech House. How strange.

 

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We've managed to sneak off as a pair. Jack told his grandfather that he wanted to take me to see the horses being washed in the river. And that's where we are; sitting on the river bank with lots of other folk around us. Jack says they're piebalds... the two horses being washed just in front of us. He knows everything about horses. He loves them. He's always had a horse. Well, he had ponies at first, but now he's got a proper horse. It's not a racehorse. He doesn't like racehorses. He's got a pure bred Welsh Cob. He loves them. He says he's going to breed them when he gets older.

 

Jack points across the river. "Look, Kyle, there's a Welsh Cob! That black horse with the white diamond on its forehead... pulling the gypsy caravan. Isn't it beautiful? Look how it trots! So proud! I love them." Then, when his hand comes down, it rests right next to mine on the grass... and our fingers are touching. So, although I'm looking at the horse, I can only think of one thing... his fingers resting on mine. But something else is happening... I can smell fresh apples. I look around to see if I can see anything. But there's only strangers and nothing that closely resembles an apple. Then I feel Jack's fingers creeping further over mine. My heart is beating so loud I'm sure Jack will be able to hear it. His fingers are covering the back of my hand now, so I pluck up courage and turn my hand over. The moment I do that, Jack grasps my hand and we entwine fingers. Because we're sitting close together, I don't think anybody can see us. I hardly dare look at Jack, but I can't help it. Neither can Jack, and we find ourselves looking right into each other's eyes. But I want more than holding hands and looking into each other's eyes, and that's why I ask Jack, "Is there anywhere where we can be alone? That's if you want to be alone with me."

 

Jack grins, gets up right away, holds out a hand, hoists me easily to my feet, laughs, and says, "I know just the place. I hope you can run fast. Come on! Follow me!"

 

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Say it with a kiss.

 

I can hear Kyle laughing as he tries to keep up with me, and when we're out of sight of the people at the fair, I slow down until I can reach out and get hold of his hand, and then I make sure he's with me by pulling him along. I know exactly where I'm going... to a secluded place by the river that granddad took me to last year when he told me all about Peter Taylor.

 

****************************

 

We'd been talking about when granddad was a boy and how he came to meet Peter, and I sensed that there were many things granddad wasn't telling me, so I asked him outright, "Did you really love him granddad?"

 

The big strong arm came around my shoulder and he hugged me. "Yes Jack, I did, and he loved me. I was just a poor boy at the time. We all lived at Springfields... the place I told you about. I was out on the work. I knocked on his door. The moment I saw him I knew he was special. I won't go into all the details, but we became special friends, and the more time we spent together, the more we grew to love each other."

 

"Like you love a dad?"

 

"Yes, but more than that, Jack. Like a dad and a brother and a best friend all rolled into one. He looked on me like a son and all the other things I've just said. We stayed friends like that until the day he died. And he loved you as if you were his own grandson. He adored you."

 

"Do you miss him?"

 

"Every day that comes." He chuckled. "You should have smelled and tasted his lamb stew. The finest stew on earth it was, with fresh warm bread he'd baked himself. We'd have that and then listen to music for hours in the lounge at Beech House."

 

"Just listen to music?"

 

I could tell by the way grandfather said it that he wasn't telling me all the truth when he chuckled again, and said, "Just listening to music." Then he tried to put me off asking any more questions by asking, "You and Kyle seem to be good friends. Do you like him a lot?"

 

I did, but I wasn't going to let anything out of the bag, so I let it slide and said "We get on well." But on the way back from the place beside the river, I began to realize where I might have got my gay genes from, and it came as a bit of a shock to think that it might have come from my lovely grandfather who I thought was anything else but gay!

 

****************************

 

Kyle and I are lying on the riverbank, holding hands and looking up at the sky. Then I hear Kyle say, "Did you mean it when you said... you know... what you said on BBM?"

 

I know what he means, but I'm shy now it's real and not on the phone. "About wanting to hold hands? We've done it."

 

"No, I meant about the other. You know, how we feel about each other."

 

I pluck up courage. "Love you mean?"

 

"Yes. I do. Do you?"

 

"Yes." Because I've been doing a lot of scheming and I don't want it all to be for nothing, I'm nervous when I ask Kyle, "Will you come and stay with me during the school hols?"

 

"Stay where? At your house?"

 

"At grandfather's. I always go and stay with gran and granddad during the hols. Mum and dad are at work, so I go there. I love it there. It's massive and he's got four Welsh Cobs as well as mum's horses. We can go riding. You'll love it."

 

"I'm not sure they'd let me."

 

I turn my head towards Kyle. He turns towards me. We look into each other's eyes. We smile. Then we stop smiling. I feel Kyle's hand tighten on mine. I return the squeeze. I can hardly get my breath. Then it happens. It's as if our lips are magnets... and very slowly we come together and kiss. Heaven is Kyle's hot lips on mine, and I feel sensations that I've never experienced in my life before.

 

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Apple blossom time.

 

I know Jack's younger than me, but I adore his strong body. He's the leader. I found that out when we were at Appleby Fair and we kissed. He rolled on top of me when we did it. It was fantastic having him kissing me. We did it for ages and swore our love for each other. But I was a bit embarrassed. My cock was as hard as a nail all the time we were doing it, and even more so when I felt Jack's was hard too. I felt it when he was pushing at me as if I was a woman. But we were both too shy to take it further, and neither of us mentioned hard cocks when we got up and went back to the others. All Jack could talk about was getting me to stay with him at Mr and Mrs Quinn's house during the school holidays.

 

And that's where I'm going now. In Mr Quinn's posh car, and Jack is in the front seat. He's come all this way to get me. Jack has arranged everything.

 

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It's been a fantastic day. Mrs Quinn looks at me and Jack sitting on the rug playing on his PS3 console. "Time for bed you two! I've had enough of that damned thing blasting away!"

 

Mr Quinn looks at us, and grins. "Do as you're told boys. Time to meet the Sandman." He looks directly at me. "I don't want you two giggling all night. TV off half an hour after you get in bed. Okay? I'll come up in thirty minutes to make sure you've done as you're told."

 

I feel a little bit embarrassed. Jack's done some more arranging: we're sleeping together.

 

Earlier, when he was teaching me to ride and we were side by side going alongside the hedge of a big field we were in, he started giggling and asked if I wanted to sleep with him. I told him that I did, and then I asked him if he wanted to sleep with me. Then we both started laughing, probably with nerves when Jack said he did because he wanted us to kiss again, that's if I wanted to? Then I sort of dropped my head, and said, "Of course I do." So when we got back he told his grandparents that we'd decided to sleep in his room. I expected them to kick up a stink, but they just told us to go and get my things and put them in Jack's room and that we'd be alright because he's got a big bed.

 

*************************

 

I look at Jack. "Pyjamas?"

 

Jack grins. "You can if you want, but I don't like them in summer. Just underpants for me. I'll switch the lights out and we can use the light from the TV to get undressed."

 

Wearing just underpants, I slip into bed. Jack slips in the other side and arranges his pillows so he can sit up. I do the same. I can feel the warmth from his body next to mine. But we're not touching. Well, not until Jack's hand finds mine under the duvet, and I welcome his fingers by entwining mine with his. We watch TV for a while, and then Jack leans his head closer and whispers, "Ten more minutes. We can't do anything until grandfather has been. Can you wait that long?"

 

I grin at him. "Yes. Shall we kiss after he's been?"

 

"Yes," Jack whispers. "Did you like kissing me at Appleby?"

 

I nod. "Yes. I've been dying to do it again... have you?"

 

"Yes. It's all I've thought about this last week." Jack giggles. "I daren't tell you how I've been thinking how I want to do it."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

Another giggle. "I was thinking about us doing it with nothing on."

 

I giggle. "We've got nothing on."

 

"Yes we have. We've got underpants on. I meant with absolutely nothing on!"

 

We both giggle. I'm giggling because it's what I want to do as well, but I'm so nervous that I can only say, "Shhhh. They might hear us."

 

Jack grins at me. "Okay. But when grandfather has been in and gone away, shall we?"

 

Still I can't speak, so I grin and nod.

 

****************************

 

The room is dark now Mr Quinn has been in to us and told us to get off to sleep and switched off the TV, and we both begin to giggle. Jack messes about under the duvet, and says, "I've got mine off. Take yours off. Or do you want me to take them off for you?"

 

My mouth is as dry as a bone and I can hardly swallow because I'm so excited. "If you want to, you can."

 

I feel them slipping down my legs and my cock springs free. I'm scared, but I'm not embarrassed. I know Jack wants me like I want him. He slips them off my feet, and then kneels between my legs, looking down at my body and my cock sticking up. The duvet has slipped off us completely and I can see the silhouette of his wonderful body. He's examining me with his eyes, and then he looks into my face, and whispers, "I love you Kyle. All of you. Do you mind if I feel at you? I want to. I love all of you. Can I?"

 

Hoarsely, I whisper, "Yes."

 

Jack's hands are soft and gentle as they explore my body, just as I imagined it would be like. I close my eyes and let him do what he wants, and when he pulls at one hip, I know that it's a signal that he wants me to turn over. No words are necessary. Then he explores my back and my bottom. Especially my bottom. He's not doing anything I don't want, and when I feel his fingers right between my cheeks and he's playing with my bum hole, I let him do it. He reaches up, takes something from under his pillow, and after he's fiddled about for a few seconds, I feel oily fingers worming their way inside me. That's when I realize how compatible we are. I've always wanted Jack to be my proper boyfriend.  

 

His hands are lightly under my hips, urging me, so I draw my knees up and let him do it. It's beautiful. It's what I want, and the pain is nullified by the pleasure of feeling Jack inside me, rubbing over my prostate gland, even more so when he does it gently until a final, deep, vibrating thrust tells me that I've given my boyfriend his sexual pleasure. And when it's over for Jack, he pulls out of me and makes me turn over to reward me with his hot mouth, and the feelings are the best I've ever had, and I'm overjoyed that Jack doesn't spit out what comes out of me. He swallows it all and then washes the head of my cock with his tongue. Then he comes up the bed on top of me, and we kiss like mad. Afterwards, we giggle and feel at each other again.

 

Jack is hard. Fantastic. He's bigger than me down there, and I want it. Not up my bottom this time. I want to kiss the part of him that's given me so much pleasure.

 

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Apple tart with cream.

 

I'm almost shaking with nervous tension when Kyle grasps my bum cheeks and pulls me up his body. Despite it having been up his bum, he wants to suck my cock. Everything I prepared and put under my pillows while Kyle was in the bathroom is needed now. Besides the baby oil and the small hand towel to wipe my hands after, the small packet of wet-wipes I sneaked under my pillow more in hope than expectation will be used now, but before I let Kyle do it, I get the wipes and show them to him. He understands, and smiles. So I get some out and wipe myself, making sure I'm completely clean, and then let him do what he wants.

 

He slides down the bed between my legs so he's in the perfect position to cup my balls with one hand and guide my cock with the other as I straddle his chest and support myself with flat hands as I look down to see what he's doing. He kisses it, and then sucks the end. My foreskin has rolled right off, so every slight touch sends shock waves through me, and he uses his tongue expertly to stimulate the nerves under my knob. I help him by thrusting at him, guided by how deep he wants me. Dreams come true, and when I feel his fingers and lips and tongue really working on me, I can last no longer and gasp in ecstasy when the remnants of my hot stuff spurts into his throat.

 

We're lying side by side now, facing each other and grinning and kissing and telling each other how wonderful it's been. I get something else from under my pillow... a bar of chocolate. That's more fun, feeding each other and even taking it from each other's mouths, and when it's gone and we kiss properly, it must be the stickiest kiss ever. Then we giggle like girls when Kyle says I've got to cover my cock in chocolate before he sucks me off again. Then we talk about what we each like best. He tells me that he wanted me on top of him, and I tell him that I wanted to be on top of him, so we decide that from now on that's how it will be, but we'll try other things as we get older. We talk about how long we've loved each other, and we're both not pleased that we didn't do it sooner. But now we have done it, we have to make plans how we can do it more often. So I suggest that I try and organise things so he gets to stay here at weekends with me after the hols. How? Granddad will help. Granddad understands. Weekends at Granddad's. Yes, that will be our thing now. Yes, Granddad will help. He'll do anything for me, and he'll go and fetch Kyle from Beech House so we can go riding and have fun and then we can make love again and again and again. Mum won't mind too much. She spends a lot of the weekends here with dad anyway. I'll teach Kyle to ride properly and he'll become one of the family.

 

When we've adopted our sleeping position of Kyle spooned into me, he makes sure my cock is tucked between his bum cheeks. I'm in heaven. I now need Kyle's beautiful small body as much as I need to breathe. He's perfection... just how I imagined he'd be when he was naked: slim and graceful and his skin is unblemished and soft and supple, and in the morning I want to do it all again before the oldies wake up. That way they won't know what we're up to.  

 

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The smell of fresh apples.

 

It's a really beautiful night as I look up at the half moon and the twinkling stars as I take a last stroll around the courtyard with my two black Labradors, Sooty and Sweep, before turning in. The aroma of hay and horses reminds me of Springfields where it all began. I lean against the courtyard wall and look up at Jack's bedroom window.

 

Jack. What a fine specimen of a boy he is! At thirteen he's already five feet nine inches tall, and built like a brick shithouse. I wasn't as tall as him at that age, so it must be the modern food that's done that to him. Well... all kids now are taller than when I was a boy. But Jack is a tad exceptional that way, because besides being tall, he's well built with broad shoulders, and he's got muscles on his muscles and a six-pack that Mr Universe would be proud of. Much of that comes from his riding. Those strong legs of his have certainly developed because of the hours he puts into his hobby. Like me and his mother, he loves his horses. But he's also got some great traits from his father.

 

Tony le Mesmer is a Professor of Physics. He married into money... my money, but he and Megan are as close emotionally as me and Kathleen. He dotes on Megan and his boys. I like him, and we get on well. He never stops giggling when I tell him about the old days, and he's actually helping Jack to write a book about the history of our family. It's become their hobby. Jack will sit with me for ages, recording all the tales I tell him, and relating everything I know about my family. Then he spends hours on his computer putting everything in place. He gets that from his dad... the discipline required to do everything properly. Jack says that when he goes to university, he wants to study European History. And he will. At thirteen he's got a very high IQ; higher than his dad had at his age. So the boy will go places, especially because he's got something else other than intelligence... he's a determined young man when he puts his mind to whatever he wants. And I know what he wants from what he's put in his diary: After the hols, if me and Kyle do it, I'll get granddad to let Kyle stay at his house at weekends. Then we can sleep together every weekend. Who's a clever granddad then? (Schoolboy stuff to a crafty old Pikey like me. Chuckle.)

 

I wander across the courtyard to the gate leading to the small orchard. There are four Cox's Pippin trees in here, but the apples are not quite ready yet. But I can smell them: The Smell of Fresh Apples... and the wonderful memories the smell creates in my old brain. Then I look at Jack's bedroom window again. They'll be fast asleep now, no doubt naked and wrapped in each other's arms, so I grin when I look up at the stars, and say, "Look what you've gone and done, Peter! These two are as gay as they come, and I reckon it will become a full-blown gay love affair. So that means they're all yours. Well, that's going to be my excuse when Kathleen starts blaming me when their plotting begins in earnest. Oh yes... it's going to happen! (Giggle.) They'll need an ally, and guess who that will be? That Jack can twist me round his little finger. I love you, you old bugger, and thank you for everything, including the trouble you've got me into now. Life would be boring without some scheming going on, and I'm the expert when it comes to scheming. Well, that's what you always used to say whenever I got my own way with you. I'm looking forward to this. Goodnight... and God bless."

 

When I walk back to the house with Sooty and Sweep, another thought crosses my mind. What the hell am I going to do if Xander is like his brother? He's a cute little sod with a lovely little bottom already... and he's got my eyes! Oh dear! I think I may be in serious trouble then! (Giggle.)

 

Almost the end.

 

But. I began this story with a dedication, so now I'll end it with the same dedication and a beautiful song.

 

A briefcase; an old boy; a young boy; a new life; Solamente Tú. (Hyperlink to the song.)

 

The End.

 

You can find my other stories on Nifty here. If you wish to comment on this or any of my other stories, just drop me a line to jtst449@gmail.com Genuine comments will be appreciated. All flames will be extinguished in the trash bin.