Date: Tue, 12 Jul 2016 07:19:25 +0200
From: Ti Ja <n8amb7s@mail.com>
Subject: Wayne and I Part 1

This is a story involving sex and romance between adult males.  If such
material is not to your taste or if it is not legal for you to view it
wherever you are, please leave now.  All characters are over the age of
eighteen.  This story and its characters are fictitious and resemblance to
real individuals is coincidental, although the first scene is closely based
on an actual encounter that, needless to say, never led to anything like
the events described thereafter.  The setting is real and dear to me, and I
have done my best to capture something of its atmosphere, although it's a
bit out of date as I wrote bits of the story some time ago.  I wonder if
any sharp-eyed reader can identify it?



Wayne and I



I heard the lad before I saw him.  I was standing at the bus stop near the
end of my street in the early evening drizzle, checking the bus times on my
phone and quietly rolling a cigarette whilst I waited.  He was talking
loudly into his mobile phone.

`You what? ...  Yeah ... Yeah, he fookin' did!  Daz's gone up to fill `im
in now.'

It was a young man's voice with a local accent, laughing (laffin', as he'd
have pronounced it) as he told his mate what was going on.  I looked round.
The lad was facing away from me, and I couldn't see his face for the hood
of his top.  I didn't like the sound of him: had it been late at night, and
just the two of us at the stop, I'd have felt a bit threatened by him and
his casual talk of violence.  Even as it was, in broad daylight on a busy
street, my heart sank a bit as he put his phone in his pocket, turned and
came towards me.

`'ere mate,' he said.  `You ain't got a spare cig, `ave you?'

I didn't really want to give him a smoke, but nor did I really want to
refuse.  I reached for my tobacco pouch.

`Er, yes, okay.  Can you roll?'

`No mate, can you do it?'

He grinned apologetically.  Under the hood he had piercing green eyes, and
a surprisingly friendly smile that lit up a rather sweet, round face, with
smooth cheeks still bearing a couple of marks from the spots he'd probably
suffered from a bit when he was younger.  I guessed he was probably about
nineteen or twenty now.  I handed him the rolled cigarette.

`Cheers mate.  You gorra light?  Sorry, come out without anything!'

`Yeah, there you are.'


`Ta.'  He took it and lit the cigarette.  `You bin waitin' long?' he asked,
blowing out smoke.

`Nah, I've only just got here.'

`Any idea where bus is?  It's bin fookin' ages.'

`Think it should be here in a few minutes, according to this.'  I tapped
the phone in my pocket.  `Traffic's really bad coming out of town though,
so it's probably late.'

`Yeah, probably.  Should have gone down and got one from main road instead'
he said, looking irritated.  `What's goin' on, d'you know?  Has there bin a
crash or summat?'

`I don't know.  It was pretty bad when I got the bus up from town earlier,
though, and that was a few hours ago.'

`Mebbe it's fair or summat.'

`Doubt it.  That finished last weekend, didn't it?'

`Yeah, but teks `em ages t' tek it all down, don't it?'

`True...'

`Aye, I missed me Sunday market `cos of all that goin' on.'

I grinned inwardly, imagining him buying smuggled tobacco and pirated DVDs
at the local market, whose site the fair occupied for a couple of weeks
each autumn.  For all that he looked like the typical surly young scally
you'd see sitting in doorways smoking, or being kicked out of the small
supermarket up the road for shoplifting, he was surprisingly chatty, and
actually not in the least threatening.  He really was cute as well, I was
starting to notice.  His manner was really quite engaging, and under the
bluster and bravado there was a kind of vulnerability to him.  He'd look
nice naked too, I thought, noting his lithe form.  I grinned inwardly again
at how absurd it was to be eyeing up a scally ten years younger than me.
Just then I saw the bus coming down the avenue.

`Here it is.'

`Thank fook for that!'

He carefully squashed out the half-smoked cigarette against the railing and
pocketed it as the bus pulled up.

`You gettin' this one too?'

`Nah, I'm waiting for the other one.'

`Okay.  Cheers for the cig mate.  Have a good evenin'.'

`Yeah, and you.'

He pulled down his hood, revealing not the shaven head I expected but
short, mousey-brown hair that would be a little wavy if he let it grow.  He
looked even cuter, all of a sudden.  I stepped back to let people off and
onto the bus, and watched as he climbed aboard and paid the driver.  He was
wearing jeans, rather than the tracksuit that's virtually a uniform for a
lot of the local lads.  They fitted well, showing off his pert, round
bottom as he climbed the stairs. Glancing up as the last of the queue got
on, I saw he was looking down at me out of the window.  Our eyes met and he
smiled again as the doors shut and the bus pulled away.





A few days later I was waiting at the bus stop again.

`Alright mate,' said a faintly familiar voice next to me.

I looked round.  It was the same lad, in hoodie and jeans again.  He shot
me a friendly grin.

`Wanna cig?' he asked, pulling a packet of cigarettes from his pocket.
`See, I've remembered mine this time!'

`Yeah, cheers.'

I grinned back and took one, noticing that they had Polish writing on the
pack, doubtless bought under the counter at the market he was so fond of.

`Er ... you from round `ere, then?' he asked, seemingly keen to make
conversation.

`Yeah, I just live up there,' I replied, pointing vaguely towards my street
with the cigarette.

`Ah, right.  You sound a bit posh, like.  Southerner, are you?'

`Yeah I am originally, but I've lived here for years.  Well, aside from a
few years in London.  You live round here too?'

`Yeah, just down there.'  He pointed at a street across the avenue, rather
rougher than the one I live on.  `You like it `ere then?'

`Yeah, it's nice.  Good area, this.  Y'know, lots going on, good bars and
pubs and so on.'

`Too posh for me,' he said slightly sadly.

I guessed he was right.  He'd smarten up nicely, I thought, looking him up
and down, but I doubted he could afford the expensive shirts and
fashionable Continental beers that are de rigeur in a lot of the bars.

`I liked that place,' he said, pointing to a pub just down the road that
had just had a big refit.  `Or I did, `til they redid it all.  Too fookin'
dear now.'

`Yeah, I know what you mean,' I agreed, although if I were honest I liked
it more after its refit.  `Shame it doesn't have the music now, though.
There were some good bands on in there before.'

 `Aye, sometimes.  Some of them bands were proper crap though!'

`True that.  You did see some really shit ones in there, don't you?!'

`Yeah,' he grinned.  `Fookin' terrible some of `em.  Saw one in there that
was...'

Just at that moment the bus showed up.  He looked faintly disappointed, as
if he'd wanted to keep talking a while longer.

`See ya about,' he said pleasantly, as he climbed aboard.

`Yeah, see you,' I replied.

He was looking back at me again as the bus pulled away.  I carried on
smoking, waiting for my bus, pondering on why he'd come up and greeted me
like a friend, and realising that I didn't know his name.






I found out the following Saturday afternoon.  I'd been into town and was
walking home when I bumped into him in the street leading onto the avenue,
opposite the old gay pub and the bakery that was gently wafting out a
pleasant smell of fresh bread, carried on the same breeze as the distant
cheering from the stadium.

`Hi mate,' he greeted me, smiling pleasantly.  `How you doing?'

`I'm good, thanks.  You?'

`Yeah I'm okay.  Bored.'

`How come?'

`No money, all me mates are at the football ... or shagging.  Me mam's
boyfriend's round and I don't like `im so I come out, but got nowt to do.'

`Unlucky,' I said.  Not sure what else to say.

He looked suddenly awkward, his eyes dropping to the floor.  All of a
sudden I was puzzled again by him; by how forward he was, and how frankly
he talked to a guy much older than him, to whom he'd only spoken a couple
of times at a bus stop.  And now he looked as if he was terribly nervous
about something.  Then, as if he'd made a decision, he drew breath and
looked up, vivid eyes looking straight into mine.

`Wanna beer?' he asked abruptly.

The question took me completely by surprise, and for a second I was almost
suspicious of his motives.  Yet his expression was friendly, expectant
even; and anyway, what harm could come of going for a quick drink with him?

`Er ... yeah, okay, why not?  I'm not doing much.'

So we walked on up the street and turned onto the avenue.  He still seemed
nervous and a bit shy and wasn't saying much, but he cast me a couple of
surreptitious glances, I noticed.  I wondered again what might be going
through his mind, with a growing sense that looking at him sexually maybe
hadn't been quite as absurd as it had seemed at first, although I couldn't
really believe that he was thinking the same.  I resolved to let things
take their course and see if a couple of drinks might loosen his tongue a
bit.

`Here?' I asked, as we reached the first of the café bars.

`Can't afford that place,' he said gloomily.

`Don't worry, I'll get you a beer.'

`Oh!  Thanks, oh, yeah, okay then.'

He looked around him as we went in.  It was obvious he'd never been in
there before, and evidently he felt a bit out of place.  He looked as if
mystified at the craft beers and hand-pulled ales along the bar, until he
spotted something he recognised, a cheap lager.  I got him a pint of that
and an ale for myself, and we went out into the beer garden.  It was quiet,
probably because a lot of people were elsewhere watching the football, so
we settled at a table in the corner.

`You know,' I said as we sat down, `I don't even know your name.'

`Oh.  Yeah.  I'm Wayne,' he said coyly.  `You?'

`Marcus.'

`Cool.'  He took a big swig of his beer and lit a cigarette.  `What do you
do, then?  You gorra job?'

`I work in publishing, and I'm a writer.  What about you?'

`I don't,' he said, rather sadly.  `Finished college last year, like, but
there's no work about.  I'm on dole, stayin' in bed all day and gettin'
under me mam's feet.'

I sympathised with him.  Times were hard and unemployment in the city very
high, and although he agreed when I suggested things were starting to
improve a bit he still didn't sound very hopeful.  All of a sudden I felt
rather sorry for him, as he talked of how he'd wanted to get a decent job
and make some money but no-one would take him on, although the last thing I
wanted to do was offend him by coming over as patronising.  Instead I went
and got him another beer.  By then I was starting to like him, and I
realised that his appearance had led me to make a few assumptions about him
that were clearly wrong.  There was none of the ignorance about him that
I'd half expected to find, and whatever else he was, he wasn't stupid.  He
was boyishly curious about exactly what I did for a living, and although he
claimed he didn't really understand my explanation he was asking some very
intelligent questions.  He had a surprisingly dry, cheeky sense of humour,
and a sweet, giggling laugh.  He really was cute too, I noticed as I came
back from the toilet, noting his pert bum on the bench and the pleasant
little smile he shot me as I sat down.  His lips were soft and kissable,
and his eyes were strikingly beautiful.  Then he took a deep breath, and
all of a sudden he looked anxious again.  He stared down into the bottom of
his glass, and his hand shook as he raised it to his lips.

`What's up?' I asked.

`I ... erm ... Oh God, I can't...'

`It's okay,' I said gently, guessing what he might be about to say.  `Just
say it.'

`Um.'  He looked straight at me, his lip trembling, swallowing nervously.
Then he took a deep breath.  `Oh ... well, look, are you ... are you gay?'

`Yes, I am.  Er ... that's not a problem, is it?'

`No, no.  It's just...'

His voice tailed off again and he looked thoroughly miserable, as if he
might even cry.  He was shaking all over now.

`Wayne, are you okay?'

`Yeah, well ... no, or yeah, but ... it's just that ... well, I think I
am.'

`Gay?'

`Yeah.'  He fixed his eyes on the table.

`Is that a problem?  I mean, it's not really a big deal these days, is...'

`Me mam'd probably kick me out,' he cut in harshly, looking straight at me.
`And her boyfriend'd kick the shit out of me.  He hates gay people.  And
most of me mates would think I'm a dirty fookin' faggot and tell me to fook
off.'

`Oh Wayne.  Is there no-one you can talk to?'

`No.' He drained his pint at a gulp, and his expression was bleak.
`There's no-one.  No-one who'd understand and no-one who'd wanna know.
Well, maybe me sister, but I can't ... I don't know what to do.  I'm
... I'm scared, man.'

So that was it.  I looked him up and down, realising as I did how lonely he
must be feeling, if the only person he felt he could discuss his sexuality
with was someone he'd met just twice before.  I felt sorry for him all over
again, but at least here there was something I could do to help.

`Look,' I said.  `You can talk to me.  I've been through it all – the
whole coming out thing – and I know how lonely and scary it can feel.
We've only just met and all that, but you seem like a nice guy, and if
there's anything I can do to help you then I'll try.  For what it's worth,
you can trust me.'

He smiled, broadening into a great beam that pushed his cheeks out into
cute little red dimples; the sweetest smile I'd seen in ages.  All of a
sudden he looked as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
It reminded me of how I'd felt when I'd first told someone I was gay,
although at least I'd had the luxury of being able to tell my closest
friend and not had to confide in a near stranger.

`Thanks.  That's really kind ... look, can we go talk somewhere else?  It's
weird talking about it here, with people about ... is there anywhere we can
go?'

`My house, if you like – and don't worry, I'm not going to try anything
on with you!'

He grinned again.

`Okay then!  Got beer there?'

`Yeah, but only this kind of stuff...' I broke off laughing, seeing his
grimace as I tapped my pint.  `No worries, we'll get some from the offie.'





So we walked back to mine, stopping at the off-licence for some cans on the
way.  He walked close, casting the odd surreptitious glance at me under his
eyebrows, and I began to suspect that, much as I'd promised him I wouldn't
try anything on with him, I might not have to.  Back at my house he
marvelled briefly at the books everywhere – `ain't many in my `ouse,' he
grinned – and then we settled on the sofa with a beer.  I thought he'd
get straight back to asking me what on earth he could do about his
sexuality, and I half-expected to have him crying on my shoulder.  Instead
he started talking animatedly about how he'd always fancied guys; how he'd
tried to suppress his feelings; how he'd had a couple of girlfriends but it
always felt wrong for him.  He did enjoy the sex, he said, but it always
left him feeling as if something was missing, and he'd concluded that he
knew what.

`I just wanna do it wi' a guy,' he said vehemently.  `I wanna get fooked
more than anything else in the world.

`I know that feeling.  It's like ... you feel kind of empty, isn't it, and
there's only one thing's going to fill it.'

`Yeah!'  He nodded enthusiastically.  `My ass feels empty when I feel like
that.  I ... I done it to myself wi' me fingers a few times, an' ... an' I
used a carrot once.  Feels so good, an' ... but I want ... I want it for
real, you know?'

`Yeah.  I remember feeling like that too.'

Now he was looking at me intently.  My stomach dropped through the floor as
he moved a bit closer.  His face was pale and intense, looking at me under
lowered brows.  He licked his lips.

`Wayne, are you thinking...?'

He nodded.

`No.  It isn't a good idea.  I don't want to take advantage of you.  I'm
older than you, and...'

`Don't matter.  Serious, you're not takin' advantage: I want you to.  Will
you...?'

`Er...'

Our eyes met again, and stayed there.  Then suddenly I had no choice.  He
sprang forward and kissed me hard on the lips; a boy's kiss, all enthusiasm
and tongue, calming down as he felt me respond.  He wriggled himself into
my arms and smiled at me.

`You're so nice you are.  I ... I kinda knew I wanted to talk to you about
all this shit when we first met.  You looked like the kind who'd listen.'

`I'm glad you did.  You're very sweet.  But I still don't think this is a
good idea...'

`Yeah it is.  I really want it.'

He smiled beatifically, turned to kiss my fingertips lightly as I stroked
his cheek, and then looked back into my eyes.  We kissed again, more
patiently this time.  His lips were delightfully soft, and his tongue
played sweetly with mine.  He slid his hand down to my cock, wanking me
slowly through my jeans as I ran my fingers down his back and across his
bum.  Then I went for his lovely, shapely neck, and he whimpered out aloud
as I kissed and licked, fumbling with the buckle of my belt.  I forgot my
doubts.

`Come on, let's go upstairs.'

We kissed our way up the stairs, treading off shoes and socks as we went.
In the bedroom he pulled me down onto the bed with him, peeled my top off
and buried his face in my chest hair, and then I drew back and pulled his
T-shirt off.  His body was slim and smooth, with lovely, pert little
nipples.  I ran my tongue over them, and all over the cute fuzz of hair
between, stroking the bulge in the front of his jeans as he whimpered in
arousal and undid his belt.  He wriggled out of his trousers and lay there
in his boxer-briefs, smiling up at me with his cock jutting out like a gun,
watching eagerly as I got out of my jeans.  Then he pulled me down onto him
again, dragging my mouth to his soft, waiting lips and sighing deep in his
throat as we kissed and rubbed against one another, touching and stroking
and wanking through our pants, until finally he rolled on his back, looked
into my eyes, and then down to his boxer shorts.

`Come on...' he whispered, as I put my hands to them and pulled them down
gently.

His cock bounced free.  It was surprisingly big; long and thick and meaty,
and nicely shaped.  It was beautiful, and I couldn't resist bending down to
kiss and lick it, and stroke his balls.  He sighed, then heaved himself
upright and went for my boxer shorts.  Almost reverently did he pull them
down until my cock sprang out, and he fingered my hard-on as if in
wonderment and ran his fingertips over my balls.

`Aw, you got a gorgeous cock!  I wanna suck it: can I?'

I nodded.  He came slowly closer, opening his soft mouth as he did.  His
lips closed wetly around my shaft and his tongue flicked exquisitely across
the head and rolled around underneath.  He pulled me in deeper, sighing
contentedly as I fucked him slowly in the mouth, stopping only when I went
too deep and he gagged.

`Oh my God,' he moaned, lying back. `Feels so fucking good...'

He came up and kissed me, rolling on top of me, and we lay on the bed for a
space, touching and kissing and wanking one another.  I ran my finger down
his back again, drawing yet more sighing from him as I stroked; getting
lower and lower until my fingers ended each soft stroke between his
buttocks, then lower still so my fingers brushed against his hole.  As they
did he gave a little sigh of pleasure.  I began to tickle gently, running
my fingers reverently round it.

`Keep doin' that,' he whispered.  `Go on ... keep touchin' my ass like that
... oh, oh that feels fookin' lovely.'

`Like me to rim you?'

His eyes widened and his hands tightened on my body.  If his cock hadn't
already been like a rod jutting into my stomach I could have sworn it
stiffened yet further.

`Will you?!'

`Yes.  Turn over.'

He kissed me fiercely, full on the mouth, and then rolled on his front.
Kneeling over him I went down and ran my tongue slowly up his smooth back,
ending with a kiss to his neck.  Then back, to start a little lower; and
then again, lower still.  He began to moan and writhe.  I held him steady
and pulled his hips up a bit, and he obligingly spread his legs wider for
what was about to come to him.  I licked again, starting just above his
crack this time.  Then, very slowly, I ran my tongue back down, over the
small of his back, and down still further.  Slowly, even reverently, I put
out my tongue and ran it gently around his tight, wrinkled anus.  I love
giving a lad a rimming, and Wayne's bottom was just exquisite.  I gave him
a big circular lick, again and again, wide round his crack and then narrow
round the hole itself, and then started to probe a bit deeper.

`Oh!' he gasped.

`Okay?'

`Yes!  Yes!  Don't stop doin' that!'

Stopping was the last thing I wanted to do.  I nuzzled his cheeks, pushed
his legs open a bit wider, and began licking his hole again, butterflying
wetly all over it, then going in deeper, pushing right in, fucking him with
my tongue.  His moans grew louder and louder.

`Oh ... oh fookin' `ell that feels so good!'

`Come and sit on my face!'

I rolled over, and he knelt over me and lowered his bum down, cheeks wide
apart so I could run my tongue all over the most sensitive parts of his
body, all around his balls, between his buttocks, and then back into his
tight little hole, revelling in his moans above me as he buckled forward
and began to suck my cock again.  I began probing with my finger, licking
it for lube and slipping it further and further inside him.  His hole was
tight and warm and welcoming and, I noted thankfully as I pulled the finger
out again, clean.  He sighed as I pushed it in again, flexing it gently.

`Oh my God!'  He cried out as I hit his prostate, tickling it with my
fingertip.  `Oh ... oh ... oh, fook me!  I really want it now.  Please!'

`Okay,' I whispered, voice still muffled in his bum.  `There's a condom in
the drawer there.  Put it on me.'

I kissed his sweet bottom one more time as he climbed off me, and with
fumbling fingers he rolled the condom down my shaft.  I reached for the
lube, and he looked at me wide-eyed and expectant, breathing hoarsely.

`Turn round.'

So he did, kneeling with legs wide apart and head down on the pillow.  He
whimpered as I began daubing a little bit of lube around his wet, waiting
hole.  I could feel how tight he was as I slipped another exploratory
finger in.

`I'm gonna do this very slowly.  Don't want to hurt you.  You set the pace
... tell me when you've got enough.'

`Mmm.'

`Okay,' I whispered, taking his hips in my hands.  `You ready?'

He knelt up, twisted round and kissed me full on the mouth, never minding
where my tongue had been only a minute or so before, then bent again.

`Come on, fook me now.'

`Push a little...'

I felt his anus open slightly as the head of my cock pressed against it.
There was a second's resistance as he breathed hard, and then suddenly I
was in.

`Ow!  Ow!'

`Alright?'

`Hold it ... wait there, just a second ... it hurts!'

His hole was tense and very tight, gripping my bell end firmly.  I leaned
forward, nuzzling at his neck and ears, licking between his shoulders, and
as I did so I felt him beginning to relax.  He twisted his head round for a
long, slow, tonguey kiss, and then began to pull me in more, sucking my
tongue deeper into his mouth as my cock slid slowly deeper into his warm,
welcoming arse.  He stopped me again as I was half-way in, and we paused
again for another spell, stillness down below contrasting with the
intensity of what our lips and tongues were doing.  He drew slightly away.
His eyes were closed, his face flushed, his mouth wet and smiling.  I felt
him relaxing inside.

`Now ... I'm ready.  Do it to me.'

So I pushed slowly forward, and he put his head down and squealed as I went
right in until my pubes tickled the insides of his buttocks.  I held it
there for a space, nuzzling his neck and kissing his lips as he turned to
me.

`Oh your cock feels so good in me,' he sighed.  `Ooh!'

He threw back his head and moaned his pleasure aloud as I pulled slowly
back.  Then forward again, and back, and in again, Wayne moaning louder
with each slow, gentle stroke.

`Oh, oh, oh ... Oh fook that's good ... oh that's fookin' awesome ... oh,
oh ... ow! Not too hard!'

His hand tensed in mine and we stopped again, turning to kiss wetly as I
held still in his tight, tender arse.

`Hurts a bit,' he whispered bashfully.  `No, s'okay ... S'nice, but not too
much ... be gentle ... ooh, yeah, like that ... oh wow!  Fook!  Oh that's
so good!'

We started to move again, very slowly at first but then speeding up a bit,
and a bit more.  Wayne moaned and squirmed and bit into the pillow.  His
bottom wobbled cutely as I thumped into it with each thrust, and the sweat
ran down our writhing bodies.  As I fucked him harder his hand tightened
around mine until I thought he'd break my fingers, and he moaned louder and
louder until he was nearly crying out with each thrust.

`Oh Wayne, I'm gonna cum,' I sighed in his ear.

`Oh god ... yeah.  Cum in me ... please.'

We slowed down a little; long, deep thrusts as both of us got nearer; our
bodies now lathered in sweat; Wayne moaning more and more deeply as
sensations he'd never felt before started to break loose inside him.

`Oh!'  He cried out, suddenly.  `What's ... I'm ... I'm ... oh fook!  I'm
gonna cum!  Gonna cum!  Ooh!'

His voice tailed off in a squeak as the orgasm broke over him.  All of a
sudden his passage was squeezing my cock as if it were in a hot, pulsating
vice.  I couldn't thrust; just stay in there and enjoy the exquisite
feeling of the explosion happening inside him.  It was like having a
massage, and I began to cum as well.  Maybe he could feel it, for he
squealed louder still as I emptied out into the condom; and with each spasm
of his insides, his cock spurted and oozed great dollops of creamy white
cum.  Then it was all over, and we sagged down onto the bed, kissing long
and slow again.  Very slowly I began to pull my softening cock out of him,
and then rolled over to take off the well-used condom and flip it into the
bin.  He snuggled in close, pillowing his head on the arm I put around him.

`How do you feel?' I asked him gently, dropping a kiss on his lips.

`Jus' ... awesome ... serious, I can't believe how good that felt!  It's
just so nice ... an' it made me cum an' all!  It was ... was lovely.  My
ass feels weird now though!'  He grinned, and proffered his lips for yet
another soft, slow kiss.  But then as we drew apart he glanced at my alarm
clock and his face darkened again.  `Oh fook, is that the time?  I'm gonna
have to go.  Me mam's expecting me back ... really don't wanna go.'

`Do you have to?'

`No, but what else can I do?!'

`Stay here for a bit.  Stay over, if you like.'

`What, all night?'

`Yes if you want.'

`If that's okay ... I'll just text me mam and tell her I'm stayin' out.
She'll think I'm shaggin' some bird probably,' he chuckled, tapping away at
his phone.

`Better that than she find out the truth, probably.'

`Yeah ... oh fook, what I am I gonna do?'

He put down the phone and turned to me.  His face was bleak again and all
of a sudden his eyes were wet.

`Wayne...'

He buried his face in my shoulder.  I stroked his hair and let him cry for
a minute or two, until he pulled himself together and looked up, a tear
running down his cheek.  I dropped a kiss on his forehead.

`Look.  We can sort this out.  Things are going to get better sometime, and
when you've a job you can start thinking about getting out of your mum's
place, maybe meet some new people, and so on.'

`Maybe.'  He smiled wanly.  `Oh well, I can't think about it now.  Just
wanna stay here with you for a bit ... feels safe, y'know?'

`Good.  One thing at a time, eh?  Like I said earlier, anything I can do to
help you, I will.'

`Aw, thank you.  You're lovely, you are.'

He lifted his face to mine again.  Our noses touched, and then our lips,
and they stayed together for a long, long time.  He smiled contently as we
drew apart.

`Shall we `ave a cig?'

`Yeah, but we've got to go in the garden.  I don't smoke in the house.'

`Okay then.'

He pulled himself out of bed and stood naked.  He was beautiful; his smooth
body lithe and graceful as he started to put his clothes on, his weighty
cock swinging to and fro.  He fondled my arm between his hands as I got up.
We headed downstairs, gathered up our cigarettes and went out.  It was
chilly in the garden, a refreshing change from the bedroom that now smelled
of sex; sweat and cum and arse.  Yet we'd surely be back there soon, for
Wayne was shooting me intense glances, his eyes smouldering.  Trying to
keep up with a twenty-one-year-old's sex drive was going to be tiring, but
it would be fun!  We finished our cigarettes and were barely inside the
back door before he grabbed me, pushed me back against the wall and gave me
another hard, tonguey kiss, sticking his hand down the front of my jeans as
he did, and rubbing his stiff bulging crotch against my leg.  He began
undoing my belt buckle, pulling down my jeans and pants until I was
standing there in front of him with my trousers round my ankles and a
massive hard-on.  He dropped to his knees and began to suck, moving his
head gently to and fro, gagging slightly as it got too far down his throat,
and then rolling his tongue round the head.

`Come on,' I said.  `Let's go upstairs again.'

He nodded, got up and kissed me, and we tumbled upstairs, stripping as we
went, Wayne murmuring semi-coherently about the taste of my cock, and how
he wanted me to cum in his mouth.  Upstairs I pushed him down onto the bed,
into the big wet patch he'd made before, and kissed my way all down his
front, spending a long time licking and biting his nipples that stiffened
beautifully under my tongue, working across his tummy and then on down.
His cock tasted lovely, jerking sexily as I ran my tongue around the head
of it.  I began pistoning my head slowly up and down, my lips tightening
round his shaft, drawing big moans from him.  I began to taste pre-cum,
oozing slowly into my mouth.  Normally I hate the taste, but right then
there was nothing I wanted more than the real thing, and I knew I wouldn't
be waiting long.  His moans grew louder and higher-pitched, and then he
came suddenly, with a sharp cry.  His pulsating cock filled my mouth with
hot, sticky cum; spurt after spurt until it dribbled down my chin as I
fought to swallow it.

`Now,' he said,' hauling me up so my cock hovered over his open, waiting
mouth.  He put his tongue out and rolled it round the head.  `Your turn.'

I fucked him in the mouth again, and he lay and took it, fondling my bum,
sighing in his throat, tightening his lips harder as I began to moan.  Then
as he tasted my pre-cum he pulled his head back, eyes tight shut.

`Do it in me face!'

My cock jerked and squirted, firing cum all over his nose and cheeks and he
groaned and opened his mouth wide so I could spunk into it.  He swallowed
and rolled his tongue around, licking up the cum trickling down his pretty
face.

`Proper little cum-slut, you, aren't you?' I said teasingly as we snuggled
up again

`I am now,' he smiled.





We lay for a bit, talking about this and that, getting to know one another.
He really liked cooking and wanted to be a chef, he told me.  He'd always
been interested in food, and he loved trying out new recipes and things
he'd never had before.  That was why he'd done a college course in
catering, but now he'd finished he'd found there were so many experienced
people looking for jobs that beginners like him didn't get a look-in.

`It's shit,' he said bitterly.  `I can cook okay, like, an' I don't mind
skivvyin' to start off, but no-one'll give us a chance.  I can't even
practice at home much neither.'

`How come?'

`Oh, me mam don't cook much an' we ain't got much money so there ain't much
in the `ouse, and Joe – that's her boyfriend – just ain't interested.
Lives on chips an' shit microwave meals.  I cook for mam an' me sister
sometimes, like, but not when he's about, an' `e usually is.  He reckons
chefs are all poofs an' it's all a waste o' time.  He reckons I should fook
lookin' for a job off an' stay on dole ... or just start dealin'.'

`He sounds like a nasty piece of work, to be honest.'

`He's a cunt; really he is.  Don't work, don't wanna do owt except sit
round and drink and smoke weed all day, and he reckons I'm gonna do the
same, and fetch his beer from offie for `im.  Well, I'm fookin' not.  I'm
sick of it, and I'm sick of `im too.'

At that moment his tummy rumbled loudly.  It spoiled his determined look a
bit, and he grinned coyly.

`You hungry?' I asked.

`Er ... yeah I am, actually.'

`Well, if you wanna practice your cooking, I've got a few things in...'

 `Can I?!'  His eyes lit up.

`Yeah, sure.  Come on, let's go and have a look.'

I'd been shopping that morning so I had plenty of food in the house.  I'd
bought a decent bit of beef from the butcher intending to cook dinner for a
mate the following evening, but he reckoned he knew how to do a nice stew,
so I said he might as well use it.  I just showed him where things were,
poured another beer, sat back and let him get on with it.  He seemed to
come to life as he pottered expertly round the kitchen, and he really did
know what he was doing; that much was obvious from the deftness with which
he chopped vegetables and the care he took selecting herbs.  The pan on the
hob was giving off a delicious smell as he put the lid on it.

`You really can cook, can't you?!'

He turned around, grinning proudly, and came over, proffering his lips.

`See, I can do summat right!' he whispered as I put my arms around him.





I woke up in the early hours of the next morning as Wayne fidgeted in his
sleep, and lay and contemplated his outline in the darkness; the gorgeous
curves of his back and his neck; the faint outline of the little tribal
tattoo on his upper right arm; the soft sound of his breathing.  I thought
back over what had happened the previous evening.  The stew had been as
good as he promised – better, in fact.  He really did have a talent, and
it was just a shame he wasn't getting the chance to use it.  He was right
to be bitter about that, I thought.  As we'd talked over dinner, and then
for hours afterwards, I'd come to understand the scale of his problems.
Effectively, he was trapped.  With no job, and social security not paying
enough to give him any independence, he was stuck in a house with his mum,
whom Joe was walking all over.  Joe was violent when he got drunk: everyone
was scared of him, and he'd hit Wayne's mum more than once in a drunken
rage over nothing much.  That hadn't done Wayne any favours, and nor had
school, really.  The local schools weren't very good, and no-one had
encouraged him to try very hard anyway, least of all most of his friends,
so even though he said he liked `reading and learnin' things' he'd just
treated it as a joke.  He'd passed most of his exams by virtue of being
bright, but his marks were nothing special.  The only other qualification
he had was his college course, but it didn't count for much when there were
so few jobs about.  He was stuck in a cycle of poor education, low
expectations, unemployment and few prospects, and it was already starting
to show its worst effects around him.  Daz, who'd been his best friend
since they were small, was already dealing to feed his heroin habit, and a
few of his other mates, most of whom he'd known since school, were heading
down the same path.  That, he said, was what he was referring to when I
heard him mention Daz's name at the bus stop that time.

`I hate it,' he said fiercely.  `I hate the drugs and the fighting.  I can
look after meself if I `ave to, but ... I mean, I don't go lookin' for
trouble, but it's the way they all are.  Daz is ... I'm scared of `im now.
Him and some of the others.  I `ave tried to say I don't like it but they
don't listen, an' if I don't sound like I'll go along with it, they'll just
ignore me and I'll `ave no friends at all.  Or they'll guess I'm a poof or
summat, and then...'  He buried his face in my shoulder and burst into
tears.

Poor Wayne: gentle, sensitive and kind-hearted, he'd grown up in a tough
world that he'd have difficulty pulling himself out of, and now he was
coming to terms with the fact that, if it became known he was gay, he might
be thrown out of it anyway and lose what little he had in life.  I felt
intensely sorry for him.  What he needed was a way out...  I pulled myself
up short as I realised that I was starting to think of myself as exactly
that.

`What the fuck am I thinking?' I mused silently.  `He's twenty-one, for
fuck's sake.  He's near enough still a child, and he's more than ten years
younger than me.  At our age that's a lifetime.  And ... well, much as I've
been single for far too long and sometimes I feel as if I'll be that way
forever, I still have hopes of meeting someone about my own age, who shares
a lot of my own interests, who'll be able to come along to a function with
me and hold his own in conversation with professors and politicians and
businessmen; someone my parents will like and accept as my partner.  That's
not Wayne.  He's far too young, and we're far too different.  I like him
and I'll do what I can to help him, sure, but I can't start thinking of him
as a potential boyfriend, can I?'

I slipped into a brief hell of self-recrimination.  Having sex with him
like that might have been the worst possible thing I could have done, I
thought.  For one, I might have put him in danger: he had a little stubble
rash around his mouth already, which someone might well spot.  That could
force him out of the closet at a stroke, with untold consequences for him,
and maybe even for me.  For two, what if, being young and impulsive and the
rest of it, he started to think of me as a boyfriend, or started to see me
as the way out of his trap?  Might I not be setting him up for an enormous
disappointment?  Worse still, what if I'd misread him?  What if most of
what he'd told me wasn't true, or that he was deceitful or weak enough to
get carried along with what some of his nastier mates were up to?  Was it
completely beyond the bounds of possibility that he might, deliberately or
not, let enough slip to Daz or someone of his ilk to lead them round to my
place?  No, that was probably too paranoid.  I couldn't believe he was
actor enough to fake the tears, or the terror as he admitted he was gay, or
the passion he'd shown in the bedroom.  I had to assume he was genuine,
even though he might yet prove to be too immature to be trusted.

Realising that this was getting me nowhere I drifted into thinking back
over the sex.  Late in the evening, as the talk started to tail off, Wayne
had lifted his head from where it rested on my shoulder and kissed me
again, gently at first but then harder, climbing on top of me on the sofa,
rubbing himself passionately against me, chuckling with pleasure as I ran
my fingers down his back and fondled his bottom.

`Come on, let's have a smoke and then go back to bed.'

We couldn't keep our hands off one another.  In the half-light of the
garden we touched and kissed as we smoked, and we hurried inside
afterwards, uncomfortable thanks to the erections in our pants.  We crawled
and slid up the stairs, me on top of him, lips locked together in long,
tonguey, wet kisses.  Half-way up I undid his belt, and sliding up the next
stair pulled down his jeans.  He wriggled a little further up, squeaking as
the rough carpet rubbed on his bare bottom, and thrust his cock in my face.
I ran my tongue up the shaft and sucked on the end greedily.

`No!  Don't make me cum!  You gotta fook me again ... I need it!'

`Come on then, let's get to bed...'

He kicked off his pants and turned over, and now his bottom was in my face.
It was irresistible.  He began to crawl to the bedroom and I followed,
kissing his pale cheeks and thrusting my tongue into his crack.  He got up
onto the bed, taking his top off as he did, and watched me strip naked,
stroking his beautiful cock as he did.  I rimmed him again for ages as he
straddled my face, revelling in his sighs and moans about how good it felt
and how much he wanted me inside him, and the stiffness of his cock as I
rubbed it, and then the sensation as he put the condom on and rubbed some
lube on my shaft.  He turned and kissed me hard as he lowered himself onto
it, squeezing my head with the tightness of his flaring, expectant hole.

`Oh!  Ooh...' he squeaked as I went in, giving way to a long sigh as he
knelt right down.

We stayed there for a space, kissing; his tongue deep in my mouth just as
my cock was deep in him.  Then we started to move, slowly at first but then
harder and harder until he was bouncing up and down like a mad thing and
the bed was creaking manically with the strain.  He began to cry out aloud,
and then his face contorted as his second big bottom-orgasm of the day
broke over him and his cum squirted up between us, all over our writhing
bodies, even as I came inside him.

Now, lying next to him in the darkness, I realised I had a hard-on just
remembering it.  It was the best sex I'd had for many a long year; maybe
ever, in fact, and whether it was a good idea or not, I wanted more.  Just
trying to keep up with his sex drive was a thrill: it made me feel younger,
happier, energised.  His body was beautiful, he was so wonderfully tactile,
and afterwards he was delightfully tender.  The contrast between the scally
talking casually about his mate going to beat someone up and the young man
who lay in my arms, teased me about how hairy I am and stroked my face with
his fingertips as I drifted off to sleep next to him was unbelievable.  The
Wayne I'd first seen was all front and very unattractive: the Wayne I was
now seeing was a sweetheart.  But no, I thought, that was more of the same
problem: I was thinking much too far ahead, and of things that could never,
and probably should never, happen.  I dozed off to sleep again.





Wayne woke me up the next time as he stirred, turned over and snuggled in
close with a sleepy kiss and a contented little sigh, and we lay in one
another's arms for a long time, drifting in and out of sleep.  Cuddling him
a bit tighter I felt his morning glory starting to rise, pressing into my
thigh just as mine started to jut into his tummy.  He slid a languid,
tender hand down and started to stroke, and I ran a finger down his back,
across his bottom and around the front.  His lips sought mine out as we
wanked one another, gently at first, but then steadily harder.  I threw the
covers back off us and we lay, half facing each other, wanking one another
furiously.

`Ooh ... oh, gonna cum!' he grunted.  `Cumming ... cumming ... oh!'

His back arched and he screwed his face up as he came.  I watched in
wonderment as his dick jerked and fired great gouts of his sticky white
juice across his chest and tummy.  He grinned at me.

`Can't believe how much you cum!'

`I know ... I mek a right mess!  Now, come here...'

He wriggled down the bed and closed his lips around my cock, grunting
contentedly as I started to fuck him in his warm, soft mouth, him moving my
hips up and down to control how deep I went, driving me faster and faster
as I started to groan, and then I came in his mouth.  He kept his lips
tight round my shaft until I'd finished, and then gulped convulsively.
Grinning, he wriggled back up and kissed my lips.

`See, I can swallow like a proper li'l gay boy!  Fookin' love `avin' you
cum in me mouth.'

We cuddled up again for a bit, until desire for coffee and a cigarette
drove us downstairs, where we snuggled up together on the sofa and scanned
through the TV channels.

`You're not interested in the football?' I asked as he flicked past it.

`Nah, not really.  I ain't into football.  I kinda follow it a bit, cos all
me mates are well into it, but it ain't my thing.'

Instead he surprised me a bit by settling on the Sunday morning politics
show, until some senior government minister came on and started talking
about people on social security.  His face clouded over, and he changed the
channel quickly.

`Sorry,' he grinned.  `Can't watch that.  Them people mek me angry, talkin'
about people like me as if we're scum.  What the fook does `e know about
unemployment?  Bet he's never had to put up with a pisshead who hits yer
mam for no reason, wi' no chance of gettin' a job an' get out of it all and
yer mates startin' to tek smack around you.  Really pisses me off, you
know?'

`Yeah, and I agree with you.  It's the ... arrogance of them, I suppose,
that gets to me, just assuming that there are jobs out there for everyone
who wants them.  They should look around here, where there just aren't any.
Or not nearly enough, anyway.  They won't, though: they believe all this
shit because they want to, and no amount of evidence will change their
minds.  Makes me really fucking angry ... anyway, sorry, I'll shut up now!'

`Nah, don't.  S'nice to `ave someone to talk about this kinda thing with!'

`Yeah, but I can bore for Britain about this kind of thing.  It's a bit of
an interest of mine.'

`Yeah, I can see that from all them books over there!'  He gestured towards
the shelves on one side of the fireplace.  `You ain't gonna bore me though.
Don't reckon I could ever get bored talkin' to you.'

He turned round again, close, his lips seeking mine out, and when they
found them they stayed there for a long, long time.

`Do you want a shower or something?' I asked.  `We could go and have one
together, couldn't we...?'

`Oh yeah!  Let's...'

We went up to my room again and undressed.  Getting a towel for him from
the cupboard I turned around and there he was, standing naked with the
beginnings of yet another hard-on, his head slightly on one side and a
little cheeky smile playing across his lips.  He was so beautiful, and he
smiled so sweetly as I took his hand and led him downstairs to the
bathroom.  It was lovely in the shower; teasing, tickling, massaging shower
gel into one another; slippery bodies sliding deliciously together as we
kissed, with the water seeping in through the join of our lips.  He wanked
me gently with soapy hands as I slipped a hand down his back, and then
turned away and bent over so I could give his bottom a good wash, tickling
his hole with soapy fingers.  He pulled his cheeks apart to give me better
access, and snapped upright and kissed me hard.

`Fook me again ... now!'

`But...'

`Please.'

I couldn't resist it.  I hopped out of the shower quickly and grabbed the
Vaseline, re-joined him and let him lube my cock up nicely as I daubed more
round his hole.  Moaning, he turned away again, bent and waited.  I
positioned myself, took his hips in my hands and pushed.  An instant's
resistance, and then I was in, gripped tightly by his hole.  He bent
further and pushed himself backward, impaling himself harder on me until I
was deep, deep inside him.  Very slowly I withdrew, pushed forward again,
and back, and forward, and again and again and again, sighing with the
sensation.  He tried to straighten up: I took his hands and helped him, and
he twisted round, awkwardly.

`Oh this feels so fookin' good,' he breathed, eyes closed, water running
down his face.  `It's ... I can feel you better.  It's ... oh ... oh!'

I started to move again, harder this time, and he bent forward to take it,
concentrating totally on the sensation in his passage, moaning louder and
louder as I kept thrusting.

`Oh ... oh ... oh ... oh Christ I'm gonna cum soon.'

`So am I.  Gonna pull out and cum all over your bum.'

`Yes! ... Yes ... Ooh, here ... I'm ... Oh! Oh!'

His insides clasped me tight again, everything tensing up and slackening,
pulsating violently inside him as he came, crying out aloud in his pleasure
as his cum spattered round his feet.  He squealed as I pulled sharply out
of him, grabbed my cock and, with a few quick tugs, fired all over his
bottom.  Then we collapsed into one another's arms, kissing deeply as the
water ran hot down our bodies.





`I've really got to go,' he said glumly a couple of hours later, as we sat
with a cup of tea.  `People'll be wonderin' where I am.'  He twined his
fingers in mine, and shot me a coy look under his brow.  `Can I see ya
again?'

`Of course you can.  You don't need to ask that.  And you know what I said
yesterday – that still holds good.  If there's anything I can do to help
you get through all this, you know where I am.'

`Thanks.  I ...' He stopped, his lip trembling all of a sudden.  Then he
gave up trying to say anything and buried his face in my chest.

`Wayne...'

`I'm okay.  Just ... I gorra go back to all that shit now, and all I wanna
do is stay here wi' you a bit longer.  It's bin ... amazin'.  Can't believe
this `as happened.'

`No, nor I.  It's been wonderful.  Come back again soon.  Sometime this
week.  Tomorrow even, if you want.  Or Tuesday.  I'm working at home so
come and see me.  And cook dinner again, if you like.'

`Okay then, I'll text you,' he said, smiling again.  `Don't worry `bout me:
I'll be okay.  I ... can see an end to all this now, some'ow, and that's
you that's done that for me.'

Standing behind the front door we shared one last cuddle and a kiss that
tasted of the moisturiser he'd daubed round his mouth to try and get rid of
the stubble rash.  We lingered for ages, drawing apart and then coming back
for just one more kiss, and another, and another.  Then he took a deep
breath and headed out, back down towards the avenue and everything he was
trying to escape from.  He went reluctantly and with trepidation, but he
walked off down the street with his head held high.



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