Date: Sat, 17 Oct 1998 09:32:54 +0100
From: Storyteller_2@Yahoo.com
Subject: Win in London Part 3

This is the second story in the Wim & Kris series.

I have had comments on the previous story that it was a bit slow to start
off. Please remember these are stories with a begining a middle and end and
a sexual content. Threads are purposely woven into them for other related
stories to be posted at a later date.

I would like to thank all the readers who have E'mailed me and Nifty.Org
for posting the Story.

In the story that follows all the people and sexual parts are pure fiction
and should be read as such. It does not mean the author promotes/agrees
with sexual activity between mature men and teenage boys. Some of the other
stuff is factual, Well The City of London is still there, aeroplanes fly
and you can get a good meal in the City or the West End.

If you are not of a legal age in the area you live, it is against the laws
of your Country to read material like this or you are offended by
homosexual behaviour, man/boy relationships etc. etc then go away and read
the works of Captain Pugwash and if you do, don't forget Seaman Staines!

			       Wim in London
			     by Storyteller_2

Part 3
Sunday

I was gently awakened by a kiss on the forehead. I blearily open one eye to
see Wim stood by the bed in his bathrobe, a big grin on his face and a mug
of steaming tea in his hand.  "It's my turn to say wakey wakey sleepy head
this morning," handing me the mug and giving me a kiss on the cheek. He
went to the other side of the bed and got in by my side, snuggled up and
picked up his mug and took a drink.

"I like this routine," he said, "just the two of us with a mug of tea. I
tell you what!"

"What?" I said fishing around the bedside table for my cigarettes.

"I'm getting like you. When I woke up this morning I was gasping for a
cuppa. My mouth was--"

I interrupted, "Like the bottom of a Parrots cage," I interjected.

"Yes, just like that and I think I prefer a cup of tea in the morning
rather than coffee."

"Well, I was weaned on it," I said, extracting a cig from the packet,
lighting it and taking a deep draw.

"Yes, that and sarcasm," he grinned. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Haven't a clue," I said looking at the clock. "Shit! It's nearly ten
o'clock. What time did you get up?"

"`Bout 9.30. Take that cig out of your mouth."

I did and he leaned over and planted a wet, tea tasting kiss, slap bang on
my lips. I turned on the Idiot Box and turned to the text page and the two
of us read the morning news. We had finished our first mug of tea and just
cuddled each other as he turned on to the cartoons.

"I put the kettle on again before I came up so we can make another cup when
we get up, okay?"

"Good man," I said. "I'm going to have to get up anyway otherwise I'll
bust. When you get up strip the bed will you and bring the bedding
downstairs."

"Yes, sir," he said with a mock salute, "will do."

I put on a bath robe and went down stairs to relieved my distended
bladder. I stood there wondering when I was going to stop. Eventually it
emptied and I was free to go into the kitchen and switch on the kettle. I
made more tea and cut some bread for toast. I never used sliced bread. Wim
appeared with the bedding. He put it in the washing machine and turned it
on.

"I found some more bedding in one of the chest of drawers and I've re-made
the bed," he said, "your clean bedding smells nice."

"I bet that lot you just put in the washer didn't."

"No, it was like us, a bit stiff in places," he grinned.

The tea was made, the bread toasted, the marmalade spread and we demolished
the lot.  "Are we going to do something today or go somewhere?" he queried.

"Well, as it isn't too bad a day weather wise and as it is Sunday, I
thought I would give you a car ride into the true City of London and then
we could have a look at the Tower of London, have lunch in Covent Garden
and come home via Buckingham Palace."

"Sounds great," he said, "but what do you mean by the true City of London?
I thought we were in London now!"

"No we are in Greater London. The centre of what most people call London is
comprised of two cities:" I explained, "one is the City of London and that
is only one square mile in area, the next adjoining city is the City of
Westminster."

"Is that were the Houses of Parliament are?"

"Yes, they are in Westminster, and the Bank of England and the Stock
Exchange are in the City."

"It looks like I'm going to get a history lesson and a geography lesson all
in one today, I'm excited already."

I rinsed the cups and told Wim it was time for a shower. He was off like a
rocket to the bathroom. I heard the shower start to run and Wim calling me
to join him.

He was in shower lathering himself with the soap as I entered the bathroom.

"Come on in it's lovely, I want my hair washing, back scrubbing and don't
forget what you promised me yesterday."

"What was that?"

"You'll see," he grinned.

I stepped in the shower and his arms came round my neck and his lips met
mine. It was a gentle kiss which he broke almost as quick as he gave it. He
turned me round and washed my back and rubbed soap and his fingers down the
crack of my bottom. He gave me the soap and turned round and bent slightly
forward for me to do the same. He swivelled round so I could do his front
and I could see he was sporting a semi hard-on.  I washed his hair whilst
he washed mine and both our hands moved down to grasp full erections. One
arm came round my neck whilst mine encircled his waist slipping down to cup
one of his buttocks in my hand. We went back to our kiss. I broke the kiss
and moved both of us so we were being rinsed my the hot water. When we were
thoroughly rinsed I shut off the water and we stepped out under the fan
heater.

He stood facing me with his legs slightly apart as I towelled his hair
dry. I left the towel round his neck and slid slowly to my knees, my hands
pulling his buttocks towards my mouth. I did what he did to me the previous
day, lots of sucking kisses all over his boyhood, pubic hairs and scrotum.

He sighed as I moved up to suckle his nipples and he buried his tongue in
my ear. He turned me round and putting his hands to my chest and slowly
sank down till he was kneeling behind me and his fingers round my manhood.
He commanded me to lean forward and I remembered what I said he could do
the next time we had a shower.  Using gentle nibbles with his teeth over
the cheeks of my bottom he worked to the centre. I felt his tongue lick
slowly round my anus and then he pushed his face as far forward as he could
and his tongue pushed passed the sphincter.

I groaned, "Oh, yes," as his tongue darted in and out.

He stopped and said, "Nice isn't it?"

"Fabulous," I sighed, as he stood up and turned me round kissing my nipples
and chest.

The fan heater had done its work and we were both dry.

"Lets get dressed," I said, "and make sure you put something on that will
keep you warm."

"Will jeans and a polo neck sweater be okay?  I can take an overcoat with
me just in case."

"That will be excellent, you won't need the overcoat in the car but you
might when we get out."

Both dressed, the house locked and the car out of the garage we set off
into Central London. We got onto the A4 and, as it was Sunday, the traffic
was light or so I thought.  "What a lot of traffic," Wim said, "is it
always as busy as this?"

I laughed and told that as far a London went this was very light traffic,
he would see what I meant later in the week.

"Why do you drive on the wrong side of the road?"

"I don't," I grinned, "but I know what you mean, do you really want to
know."

"Yes, please."

I told him the origins and history of why we drive on the correct side of
the road. I ignored his comment that most of the rest of the world drove on
the other side so we must be wrong and started the reasoning behind driving
on the left.

"Do you know anything about horse etiquette?" I asked, and before he could
answer said, "what side do you get on a horse?"

"Always on the left," he replied.

"Well done. Yes, you are correct," and I continued with the tale.

Back in the olden days when there were no roads just tracks through the
woods, people would travel from village to village on horseback. That was
fine until the footpads (olden day muggers) and robbers came on the
scene. That's when Noblemen would don on a suit of armour. You'll see some
of them today in the Tower of London. Now that was fine at the start of the
journey, there was always someone to help you on to the horse. In the
middle of the journey if you wanted a pee it was easy enough to get off the
horse but as the amour weighed a lot it was nigh impossible to get on again
on your own. So every so often a cairn of stones of sufficient height would
be built at the side of the track so the horseman could pull up to the
cairn and put his foot on the top and get off. Of course he could mount
again by climbing to the top of the stones and throwing his leg over the
saddle. These stones had to be placed on the lefthand side of the track. As
the tracks got wider they placed the stones at each side of the what had
now become lanes. When horse and carts came on the scene they also followed
the horse tradition and drove on the lefthand side. Now we are in a
horseless carriage we are carrying on the practice.

"Is that true?" he said his eyes like saucers.

"Do I tell you lies."

"No, but sometimes you take the piss. You would be a good poker player so
there are sometimes when I can't tell."

"No, Wim, my son, what I have just told you is the truth."

"That's another reason I love you so much. You are a mine of information
and a smashing teacher. You always make things interesting."

"Unfortunately," I said, "I'm a mine of useless information."

"I don't think it is useless," he said with quite a lot of conviction, "it
is very interesting.  Some of the things you tell me makes me think and
raises questions in my mind."

"Good, that's what it is meant to do," I said, swearing at an idiot driver
who just cut me up by moving across two lanes without indicating. "Stupid
bastard, mind in neutral, car in gear and thumb up bum."

Wim had never heard that one and he burst into fits of laughter. Oh, how
good it was to see him enjoying himself. He was relaxed, content and full
of life.

We moved through the West End in to Holborn and turned left towards the
City. I told him we were in Westminster and he asked where the Houses of
Parliament were.

"You'll see them on the way back," I told him. "Due to the IRA attacks the
entry to the Square Mile is restricted, but on a Sunday it doesn't cause a
hold up."

As we passed the Lloyds building Wim said, "That building looks as though
it is inside out, all the pipe work is on the outside of the building."

"That's modern architecture," I said with just a little bit of sarcasm in
my voice.

He was quick to pick up on my tone.

"Don't you like it?" he said.

"It grows on you, I've got used to it by now, but when it was first built I
thought it was an abomination."

We drove on and turned the corner to see the Tower of London down by the
Thames.  With it being Sunday and March, wonder of wonders there was a
parking spot not more than 50 yards from the entrance. I told Wim to put
his coat on and we made our way to the entrance. Wim was fascinated by the
Tower guards dressed in their red and black old fashioned uniforms.  They
are called Beefeaters I told him. As quick as a flash he said he had seen
them before on bottles of Gin. We paid the fee and did the tourist bit.

He marvelled at the suits of armour, particularly the size. He thought they
were children's suits but I told him in those days adults were much smaller
than they are today. I took him to see the "Crown Jewels" and he was amazed
at two things, the thickness of the doors leading in to the jewel room, in
effect the room is one massive safe, and the size of the diamonds in the
Queen's Crown. As we walked back to the car, Wim was skipping like a two
year old.

"I bet Henks' Dad would like to get his hands on diamonds that size," he
said. "We must bring Henk to see these when he comes over in the summer."

"Who said he's coming over this summer?"

"Oh! Er! Umm, well I just thought it might be a good idea."

"You said, `WE must.' Does that mean you will be here then?!"

"Well, I don't know, I hope so," he said. "Even if I'm not yours then I'm
sure I could come over in the summer holidays."

We arrived at the car and I flipped the central locking. What amused me was
Wim went to the drivers side and got in. Much to his surprise he found a
steering wheel in front of him. He was used to getting in that side of a
car on the Continent and he forgot we drove on the left. I saw what he was
doing even before he realised it and I got in the passengers side.

"Right where are you going to take me," I said with a grin.

"I can't even drive in Holland let alone over here in this traffic," he
said.

"It's a good job I've got the keys," I said, "because if you had them in
your hand, in British law you would be deemed "to be in charge of a motor
vehicle."  If a policeman came along you could be charged with a string of
offences."

"Like what?" he said looking worried.

"Well lets see," I paused for effect, "in charge of a motor vehicle with
out a licence, no insurance, under age, not displaying L' plates and I'm
sure an over zealous copper would find one or two other obscure charges to
bring."

"What would happen to me?"

"Oh! They would fine you a lot of money, lock you up and throw away the key
and then when they let you out they would deport you and refuse you entry
to the UK for ever more, so you better crawl over to my side," I said.

As I got out he scuttled over to the passenger side and I got myself
settled in behind the wheel.

"Was Rule 1 in operation then?" he said with a sheepish grin.

"Apart from the bit about locking you up and throwing away the key, yes it
was."

"I must get used to these "horsey rules" and he thought for a second or two
and said with a big cheesy grin, "but I already know about one lot of
horsey rules."

"It's a good job you don't wear spurs otherwise my the cheeks of my bottom
would be a mass of holes."

We had got to the road that runs parallel with the Thames. As we turned
West, Wim nearly jumped out of the car.

"Look, look," he shouted, "the middle of that bridge is going up." and so
it was.

It isn't often nowadays that Tower Bridge is raised and we pulled in to a
parking bay to watch the spectacle. It was a good job it was Sunday! The
Sail Training Ship "The Winston Churchill" was making her way up the river
to the Pool of London.

"I wonder if they have any "brass monkeys" on that ship," he said with a
grin.

"No, they don't, it is a training ship for youngsters, not a Man O' War. It
teaches them how to get on with people from all walks of life, colours and
creeds.  They learn how to become part of a team, how to lead, how to help
each other and all sorts of things like that."

"Did you go on it then?"

"No, why?"

"Well you do all of those things," he said giving me one of his puppy dog
looks.

As we were stationary I leant over and gave him a big kiss full on the
lips. "Thank you, my son," I said.

He held my hand, returned the kiss with interest and said, "I love you."

"I love you too."

I put the car in gear and made my way to the centre of the West End.  We
pulled up in a side road and parked on a meter, free on Sundays, and we got
out.

"Where are we now?" he asked. "`Cos I'm hungry."

"You are just approaching an area where all London's fruit and vegetables
used to be sold. That market has moved now and the area has been
transformed in to a Piazza with some supermarket stalls, shops and, more
importantly, RESTAURANTS."

"You are a mind reader," he grinned. "What's it called?"

"No, I'm not a mind reader, I'm bloody hungry and I'm going to take you to
one of my favourite restaurants in this area. It is called "The Crusting
Pipe".  It used to be a wine merchants cellar. It is all below ground level
and in the summer it is beautifully cool and in the winter it is nice and
warm. The food's good too! Oh, this area? It's called Covent Garden."

We had French onion soup with croutons with melted cheese on top, Rib of
Beef, medium rare, chips and a side salad. Dessert was a raspberry cheese
cake all finished off with a decent cup of coffee. No booze as I was
driving.

"You certainly know how and where to eat," Wim said.

"I've made it my life's work," I said with a grin.

He looked at me in a way I had never seen before. He looked worried,
concerned and even a little bit frightened.

"What's the matter my love?"

"I know you love good food and your ciggies, you don't drink a lot, which
is a good thing; but I'm worried that you may cause yourself damage by
eating like this. God knows I don't want to loose you through a heart
attack. I've only just found you and I don't think I could stand the pain
of losing you now. Promise you will keep an eye on what you eat from now
on?"

I was touched by his concern and took both his hands in mine across the
table. I pulled him so he was close enough to kiss and whispered, "I
promise my son, I promise. I'm not trying to get out of what I've just said
Wim, but remember I told you in Amsterdam I've just had a full medical and
they gave me a clean bill of health. I'm going to blame you anyway for me
eating like this."

The look of indignation on his face had to be seen to be believed. He
opened his mouth to say something and I held up my hand to silence him
before he began.

"It is sort of true, all I wanted to do was introduce you to good food in
nice surroundings and show you a bit of the good life. Remember, I only
have you here with me in England for a few days and I'm making the most of
it while I can. When I am on my own again I promise I will go back to beans
on toast and salads."

"I like beans on toast and salads," he said "and I do like these slap up
meals, but let's keep it to just a few, anyway you can cook just as good,
if not better than some of these places!"

"Ah, true, but I don't have to prepare the meal, cook it and clean up after
myself. You've seen how much of a messy cook I am."

We let the matter drop but I was still thrilled to know that he really was
concerned for my health. It showed how much he cared.

We left the Crusting Pipe and climbed to street level to find it chucking
it down with rain.  We made a dash for the car. Wim remembered which side
he should get in and beat me to the car by about 20 yards. I pressed the
remote in my pocket and the locks came off, he jumped in, leaned over and
opened the drivers side door so as I got to the car I could just slip
behind the wheel.

I looked at my little one, he had remembered to put on his seat belt and
you could see how happy he was.

He returned the look, leaned over and said, "Before you drive off, give us
a kiss."

I said, "Since when have you been more than one?!" and gave him a kiss on
the end of his nose.

"Eh!"

"You said, `Give US a kiss.'"

He interrupted and said, "I know, I know, it should have been `give me a
kiss,'" he chided, "but I've heard you use US instead of ME."

"True, true, but I speak colloquial English, which ain't wot I shud.  Nay
lad thar shud speak proper English like!"

He giggled and put his tongue out and blew me a raspberry. I put the car in
gear and the climate control turned on the heater. I had noticed as we left
the restaurant it had got a bit chilly. I turned to Wim and said, "It's
getting like brass monkey' weather. Shall we skip the rest of the tour and
go home?"

"Good idea," he said, "we can do the other bits later in the week. We can
have a cuddle and warm ourselves up at home."

I pointed the car in the right direction and said with a grin, "Oh no we
can't have a cuddle, we only have a two minute cuddle before you go to your
room to bed."

As quick as a flash he replied, "Then we had better go home to bed then!"
and placed his hand on my knee.

He let his hand slide up to my thigh and I let my leg move to the left to
allow him better access. He grinned and told me to keep my eyes on the
road. He stoked the inner thigh with gentle pressures that caused the
inevitable to happen. He pulled the zip of my pants down and slid his
fingers inside. With deft movements of his fingers he managed to get
through the front of my boxers and put his hands round my throbbing member.
He went into a squeezing mode, squeeze, release, squeeze, release, it was
very sexy.

"Do you like this?" he murmured.

"Mmm, nice but be careful, don't get me too worked up otherwise we might
break the speed limit!"

He reclined his seat and stretched out. I took a quick glance and saw he
had unzipped his pants, undone the top and had slipped his other hand down
the front of his briefs putting it round his now erect boyhood. His eyes
were closed and he was matching squeeze for squeeze on both rock hard
members. I came to a dual carriageway with virtually no traffic.  I held
the wheel in one hand and moved my hand over the top of his. He opened his
eyes, looked at the traffic conditions and moved his own hand away. He took
my hand and placed it where his had been. I kept the rhythm going. We both
sighed and let ourselves enjoy the touches and the pleasure it was giving
us.

"This is nice," he said, "but when we are doing this I like to feel your
lips on mine and our tongues playing together."

"Not possible at the moment."

"I know it isn't, silly, I was just telling you what I like."

I pulled my hand away and gripped the wheel and swerved to miss a stray dog
who was intent on committing suicide. It broke the mood, which wasn't a bad
thing as my concentration was wandering.

"As nice as that was my son, we mustn't do that again. It is too
dangerous," I said.

"Sorry, it was my fault."

"We were each as much to blame as the other. I could have told you to stop
and I didn't, so you need not take all the blame yourself."

"That is another thing I love about you, you are so very fair. Other people
would have blamed me for that but you didn't."

"I hope you wouldn't be doing that with other people," I grinned.

"You know what I mean, some people always blame the kid even when it isn't
their fault and I wouldn't do it with anyone else but my new found Dad."

I smiled with pleasure at his "new found Dad" bit as I pulled the car into
the drive.

"Do you know what I want?" I said as we got out of the car.

"Let me guess," he said with a smile. "A cup of tea?!"

"Spot on," I said unlocking the front door.

He dashed in to the house and straight to the kitchen. The kettle was
filled and switched on, tea ready to put in the pot after it had been
warmed and then he came to me and said,

"You know what I said in the car about lips and tongues," and promptly
smothered me with his lips and his tongue was rapier like darting in and
out and at the same time sucking mine into his mouth, his hands on the back
of my head pulling me as close as he could,

"I love you," he mumbled.

I think that was what he said. It was a bit difficult to understand the way
his tongue and lips were moving but I got the gist of it anyway. The kettle
boiled.  It is just a teeny bit difficult to warm a teapot and make tea
with a 14 year old boy clamped to your lips and hanging round your neck but
I was in desperate need of a cuppa so I managed. It was quite good really
because tea takes about 10 minutes to brew so we didn't have to break the
kiss for another 10 minutes - and we didn't! We took our tea in to the
lounge and sat together on the settee, side by side.

"Will you want another cup?" Wim asked.

"No thank you, love," I said. "It's only first thing in a morning that I
guzzle tea like there is no tomorrow. During the day one mug is fine. What
would you like for dinner?"

"Well, after that lunch, shall we have something light?" he said with a
knowing look.

"I agree, I've got some ham and makings of a salad for the main course and
some bananas and ice cream to finish with."

"Sounds great. If it is OK with you we could eat later, say about
eight-ish, it would combine dinner and supper."

I suggested we get out of our clothes and put on our bathrobes. Wim dashed
upstairs and I followed. We stripped down all the way and just put on the
robes. We made our way down stairs back to the lounge. I closed the
curtains, put on one of my favourite CD's, a mixture of Chopins nocturns
played on a single piano. It is so relaxing.

He then gave me one of his come hither looks and crawled on to my lap.He
was just like a cat. He rubbed his face against my neck, moved up to my
cheek across to my lips.  The noises he was making were a mixture of
purring and cooing and his hands moved over to stroke my hair and the back
of my neck.

It was heavenly. He turned his head at 45 degrees to allow him full access
to my lips, closed his eyes and pressed his lips to mine in a firm, full,
but gentle way. I closed my eyes, slipped my hands under his bathrobe,
encircled his body with my arms and held him close. We must have sat there
like that for a good 30 minutes, just drinking in each other. The taste was
better than any exotic meal, the finest wine, a vintage Port.  It was just
ecstasy. What amazed me was when we started I got a raging hard-on but
after the first flush of sexual excitement it went soft but the pleasure
was still there.

We broke the kiss to get our breath back and I commented about my non-erect
state.  Wim never said word but just placed my hand on his penis and he was
just as soft as I was.

"I told you we would wear them out," I said.

"No we won't. I don't know about you but when we started, mine sprang to
attention and as we settled down so did my dick. I enjoyed it as much as
our sex sessions; well almost as much. It was different, just nice and that
piano music is so relaxing. Let's do it again."

This time I instigated the session. I kissed the side of his neck, moved up
to his ear and nibbled the lobe. I licked the inside of the ear and moved
up to his temple. I kissed across his forehead and as he closed his eyes I
kissed each of his eyelids. I moved down his nose kissing the tip before
reaching his lips. His mouth was slightly open as I placed my lips over his
and our tongues met yet again. We settled down with just lips together,
arms draped round our necks and we both dropped off to sleep in the chair.

I felt Wim stir which brought me back to the land of the living. I looked
at my watch and was amazed to find it showing 8:30. Wim stretched his arms,
pushed his legs straight out and I felt his muscles tense and then relax.

"Oooh, that was super," he said. "Did you like it?"

"Fabulous, do you realise we have been like this for four hours?"

"No wonder I'm hungry," he said.

"You are always hungry for one thing or another," I grinned, "do you want
to eat?"

"I'll get it," he said and dashed off to the kitchen.

"Before you do anything we had better go and put some clothes on, passers
by can see in the dining room."

I very rarely close the curtains in the dining room. We both sort of
dressed and he finished before me and dashed downstairs.

I heard him getting out plates, putting on the kettle, getting things out
of the fridge etc.  etc. I realised how lucky I was to have such a willing
helper. Some kids of his age would just sit and wait till things were done
for them. Not my Wim, we seemed to be able to share everything between us.
Nothing was to much trouble for either of us to do for the other. Empathy,
true love, bonding call it what you like but we had it.

"Dinners ready," he called.

I walked in to the dining room and everything was laid out just right.

"I couldn't find any salad cream," he said.

As it was a cold meal I beckoned him to follow me in to the kitchen. I took
some Olive oil, wine vinegar, a little dry mustard a half a teaspoon of
sugar, a little salt and pepper and put the ingredients in a small
bottle. Screwing the top on tightly I shook the bottle very vigorously and
he was amazed as the liquids turned to a thick light golden cream.

"Home made French Dressing," I said proudly.

He took it from my hand and went back to the dining room and spread it over
his salad.  I watched as he tasted the mixture. A big grin came across his
face and he told me I was a clever old man. I had to make a grab for the
bottle before he used up the lot. None of it went to waste. I finished
first so I got up and took my plate to the kitchen. I sliced the bananas,
scooped two dollops of Cornish ice cream into two dessert bowls divided the
bananas equally between the two and poured just little double cream over
the lot. As I finished Wim came in bringing his empty plate to wash.

He tut tutted at the cream and made me pour some off back into the carton.
I complained that I had only put on a quarter of what I would normally have
had, but he insisted. I knew he was doing it for my own good so I did as he
asked and didn't pour out some more. We didn't even go back to the dining
room. We stood in the kitchen and ate desert and when we had finished put
the plates in the dishwasher and returned to the lounge. I could see the
wheels going round in his head.

"Well what?," I said.

"Have you got a big beach towel?"

"Yes, but we are not going to the beach this time of the year," I retorted.

"No, I know we are not, but we could use it tonight."

"What on earth for?"

"Well I put clean bedding on this morning and I thought if you wanted we
could do what we did on the last night in Amsterdam."

"Remind me," I teased, because I remembered only to vividly what we had
done as my going away present to him.

"You know very well what we did and if we put the towel on the bed it would
keep the sheets clean."

"It wouldn't keep the wall clean," I said, "if I remember you shot so far
that it hit the wall, mind you I think that I can stop you doing that."

"Oh, good. And how are you going to do that then?"

"I'll tie a knot in it."

"God don't do that it'll blow my balls off," he thought for a moment and
grinned, "anyway it isn't long enough!"

"I'll lock up, it's time for bed anyway," I said. "The big towels are in
the bottom draw of the chest."

I locked up and Wim ran upstairs. I was again shocked at how the time had
passed. It only seemed about an hour since we got back from our drive and
here it was nearly 11:00 pm.  I turned off the lights and climbed the
wooden hill. The door to the bedroom was slightly open and only a single
bedside lamp lit. Wim was sat on the side of the bed waiting for me, the
towel spread over the sheet. He still had all his clothes on, except his
shoes which he had kicked off. As I walked in he came across the room and
put his hands round my neck and pulled my head down so he could give me one
of his special kisses. A gentle lip to lip, end of tongue to tongue,
gradually getting stronger and more passionate. He pulled me over to the
bed and fell backwards pulling me on top of him.

His hands worked down my back pulling my T shirt out from my trousers.  I
did the same to him but from the front. We broke the clinch and pulled them
over our heads. I slipped my fingers into the top of his tracksuit bottoms
and slid them off leaving his tight white briefs still in place. I could
see he was fully aroused and a little wet patch was showing as he leaked
pre-cum.

I climbed on the bed and laid by his side. He slid down to my waist and
removed all of my clothes in one movement. He moved slowly back till his
lips were engaged with mine and his hands moved to the back of my head
pulling me even harder to his lips. I let my fingers drift down his chest,
on to his tummy arriving at the top of his briefs. He broke the kiss and
said his first words since I got into the room,

"Make me naked, but slowly, please -- slowly!"

Rather than pull off his briefs I slowly rolled them from the top, over his
erection. He lifted his hips and I continued to roll the material keeping
the elastic tensioned against his buttocks. He moaned,

"Nice, oh yes, nice."

I slid down to his ankles and crossed them. A gentle pressure and he turned
over on to his front. I continued to roll his briefs till they came off at
his feet.  He put his arms away from his body and parted his legs. I could
see his testicles between the top of his legs and the mounds of his
beautifully shaped buttocks just waiting to be massaged.  I poured some
baby oil on my hands and massaged him from toes to neck. I felt him relax
but He turned his head, his eyes bright and puckered his lips and blew me a
kiss. I knew he wasn't going to go to sleep on me this time.

I turned him over on to his back and moved down his arms to his hands and
fingers gently rubbing in the oil. I did his chest and kissed his tummy
button, pushing my tongue as far inside as it would go. This caused him to
gasp in air and hold it in his lungs. As I removed my tongue he let out the
air in a slow hiss.

He said, "I'll do you now."

I didn't object and lay face down. He moved my legs apart so he could
settle between them, his knees just above mine. I felt him start at my neck
and move slowly down to my buttocks. He moved his oil soaked fingers round
my pucker so I pushed up to meet them.  He pushed two fingers slowly passed
my sphincter and massaged the inside of my rectum.  He removed his fingers
just touching my prostate for a second sending shivers up my spine and he
collapsed across my back. He pushed his hands under my chest letting his
fingers play with my nipples and sliding his rock hard boyhood between the
cheeks of my bottom.  I managed to move my hands behind me and held his
buttocks pulling him tighter to my back and further between the cheeks. He
slid his hands down from my chest and I raised my hips, this gave him
access to my very hard member and pushed his harder between my butt. I
could here him saying to himself in a low voice over and over again,

"I want to, but I won't; I want to, but I won't; I won't."

He rolled off and laid by my side. I turned to face him and our arms
entwined. We were both breathing heavily with mixture of love and lust
coursing through our veins. I put him on his back in the middle of the
towel. He closed his eyes and waited.  I opened the drawer under the
bedside table and pulled out a condom. He still had his eyes closed, his
penis throbbing up against his belly. I took it between my fingers and
pulled it to 90 degrees from his body. I placed the condom over the tip,
squeezing the air out of the tip with my thumb and forefinger and slowly
rolled it down the length to his pubic hairs. I could see the sensations
flowing through his frame as the lubricated latex rolled over his glans and
his body vibrated as it reached his pubic hairs.

"Oh! What is that?" he said without opening his eyes. "It feels fantastic."

"Lay back and enjoy," I said and you could see the look of pleasure on his
face.

I moved till by body was touching his and slowly started to masturbate
him. I gradually increased the grip and tempo watching for the signs. His
breathing became ragged and his legs stretched out. The muscles in his
thighs became tense and his tummy became hard.  He held his breath and I
moved my hand at speed. His whole frame became rigid and I felt him explode
into the condom as he exhaled the air from his lungs with a combination
sigh and groan of pleasure. I could feel his penis still twitching as I
released the grip still pumping little spurts of semen into the latex.

He relaxed and said, "Better than Amsterdam, much better."

He opened his eyes and saw the condom on his now deflating rod. I pulled it
off and knotted the end. I held it up for him to see and he took it off me.

"Look at the amount of semen in that, I think that is the most I've ever
produced. I've never worn one of these before, the sensation when you put
it on nearly caused me to cum there and then. Its just like a second skin
and the lubricant makes jerking off, well, different."

He sat up and threw his arms round my neck and hugged me to his sweating
body. His lips found mine and ground so hard it took my breath away. He
pushed me on to my back and climbed on top of me. His fingers started to
work on my chest and quickly moved to my now throbbing penis. I saw him
lean over and take another condom out of the pack.

Before he rolled it on he slid down and placed his lips over the head of my
rod and ran his tongue around the glans. He applied suction which started
my body to stiffen. He relaxed and pulled his mouth off and rolled on the
condom. He laid as he always did with one leg over mine, his boyhood pushed
against my thigh and started his administrations. I felt him come to full
hardness and he matched his hand movements with his own hip movements.

As he brought himself to a climax, he did the same for me. As my body
stiffened and I exploded into the condom, he pumped a second load against
my thigh. He collapsed on his back breathing hard as I turned on my side to
face him. I kissed the end of his nose.

"I love it when you do that."

"What?"

"The kiss on the end of my nose just finishes it off, it's like a kiss that
a Dad would give to his Son, just love and affection," he said in a low
voice.

"That is what it is meant to feel like," I said, "it is love and
affection."

I slid off the condom and knotted it. He took it and compared the volume of
my semen with his and promptly announced they were nearly the same but he
had cum twice so he had produced more. I could not argue the point and
didn't even want to. The towel had done its job and I cleaned both of us
and threw it into the dirty linen basket, hitting it first time.

He grinned and said "I bet you can't do that again!" and cuddled up close.
I felt him relax against my side, his breathing became deep and regular and
his light went out. I pulled up the duvet, turned off the light and joined
him in the land of beautiful dreams.

End of part 3

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