Date: Fri, 20 Oct 2017 16:19:32 -0700 From: Ian Bridger Subject: London Calling Chapter 1 Readers Warning; The following story contains elements of sexual content and contact between young boys around the age of twelve. If the subject matter offends you, or is not to your taste, or if you are closed mined to such things, or if you are a minor under the age of eighteen; then you should probably not read any further. Thanks, and enjoy. Story Written and Posted by About A Boy "Young boys should never be sent to bed. Because they always wake up a day older." ( Quote from Finding Neverland ) Authors note: In writing, it is often times difficult to convey an accent, or certain colloquialisms. Accordingly, I have taken certain liberties with spelling and grammar, to convey a bit of British flavour to the story. Please allow me this, and go with the flow. Thanks for reading, and please enjoy. Chapter One London Calling The boy was sitting quietly on the small green park bench, leaning forward with his arms folded on top of the iron railing, his chin resting lazily on his hands. He stared blankly out over the Thames River, languishing about what he should do next. Heaven forbid he should go home. Not this early. He came here most everyday after school, stalling for time before he had to make his way home, and face the inevitable. Life had become quite a challenge of late, for the rather soft spoken twelve-year-old. Sometimes other boys, his friends, would be hanging about in the park, booting a football (soccer ball) around in the lush green lawns; but not this afternoon. This afternoon he was alone. The park was pretty much in the heart of London, well, Westminster to be more precise. Formally it was called the Victoria Tower Gardens, a sprawling green space in the shadow of the British Parliament buildings, and Victoria Tower. Shay, for that was his name; was gazing out over the river. Looking to his left, he could watch the London Eye, a prominent feature on the other bank, as it took tourists around for a staggering view of the city. The Westminster bridge before it, was busy this afternoon with black taxi's, red double decker buss's and an assortment of other blandly colored vehicles transporting people to and fro, going about their lives and various activities and businesses. Shay sighed, bored near out of his mind. There was only a few weeks left in this year's school term, and then early summer would usher in a quiet reprieve. Well, not for Shay. Summer holidays meant he would have more time to fill. More time that he had to stay away from home. Which he was not looking forward to actually. Standing from the bench, the boy sighed again, then shouldered his small red day pack, filled with several school books, and his sack lunch that he'd not eaten today. Big Ben chimed out six bells in the distance, and Shay knew he had no choice but to head home. The boy crossed the grounds and the adjacent road, then, walking up the footpath he had to give way to avoid a flock of tourists who were standing there in the middle of it, taking pictures of the famous Westminster Abbey. It was a richly impressive, centuries- old sight after all, though, most Londoners paid it little attention. When you live amongst such things, they simply blend into the landscape after a time, standing out only to the many visitors who flocked there on a daily basis. "Excuse me..." A tourist said. "Boy, would you mind snapping a picture of us?" Shay dutifully set down his daypack and took the cell phone from a heavy set woman. "Go on then..." The boy replied, motioning for the woman to join her friends in front of the Abby. He lined up the shot and snapped a picture. 'Click'. Handing the phone back to the portly woman he continued down the walkway. Shay took the long way round, wanting to stall as long as possible before going back home. But finally the boy turned down Burnaby Road, dragging his hand along the spokes of the wrought iron fences that fronted most of the row houses there. 'Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk...' His fingers bounced from rung to rung like a playing card in the spokes of a bicycle wheel. At length he arrived at Number 16, where he stopped for a moment, issuing another disheartened sigh. He was home. Shay looked up almost mournfully at the white washed brick building. It was a three story affair, running virtually the length of the block as row houses do; apartment like flats, one right after the next. The boy re-shouldered his day pack and mounted the five steps to the front door. He hesitated there, his hand on the knob, then quietly went inside and tossed his key into the little wicker bowl on the side table by the door. He listened for a moment, trying to catch the sound of the telly coming from the living room; or any other sounds of his father somewhere in the flat. Silence... Feeling relieved, Shay hurried up the staircase to his bedroom on the second floor, and he slipped inside closing the door behind him. The boy left his backpack just inside the door, and walked across to his wardrobe, where he began removing his school clothes. The thin stripped tie, his black pants, the jumper and white button shirt. All part of his tidy English schoolboy uniform. Shay was in year eight. Well, for the next several weeks anyway, until summer break and ultimately next years sessions. The twelve-year-old opened his bedroom door, listened again for any sounds, then quickly crossed the hall wearing nothing but his cotton briefs and white low cut ankle socks, and he stepped across into the bathroom. Shay stripped off his remaining sundries, and turning on the water, he stepped into an old style tub to take a quick shower. Raising his head, he let the warm water stream over him, clearing away the day's collective grime. The boy didn't dawdle too long though, he didn't dare, his father wouldn't like that... Washing himself quickly, the boy finally rinsed off and shut off the stream. He ran his fingers briskly through his longer light brown hair, shaking off the excess water there, before pulling the shower curtain open. Stepping out of the tub, the boy scooped up a white cotton towel from the bar on the wall, and began drying himself. The youngster appeared quite fit. A lean young boy, who loved football, and sports, and was always running about with his mates. He dragged the towel over his firm body, and being careful, he dabbed gently at his shoulder blade. There was a large blue/black bruise there, and it was still a bit tender, so he patted it dry with great care. Putting his bare foot up on the closed toilet seat, he dried his compact foot, and nicely shaped toes, before switching and doing the same with the other. When he'd finished, Shay set the towel on the counter, and standing at the sink he began brushing his teeth. Two times a day. That's what his mum had wanted him to do. At least she did, before she had passed away some six months past. The boy was diligent about it though, hoping his mum would have been proud of his continued efforts. Returning the toothbrush with a clink to the glass on the counter, Shay looked at himself in the mirror. His disheveled hair hung loosely over his forehead, and he brushed it away with his fingers, as he looked at his youthful reflection. The boy had dusty blue eyes that shown brightly, despite it all. He had a smallish nose, and a cute boylike face that looked younger than his twelve, almost thirteen years. The boy's teeth were white and even, and they showed nicely when he smiled; which wasn't as often now as it used to be. Shay's eyes looked over the reflection of his young body. He was nice looking. Broad shoulders, trim, fairly athletic looking, yet still quite boyish in nature. His tummy was flat and firm, and just below that, Shay glanced curiously at his own boy parts. He was twelve, and was endowed as one might expect; nearly three inches of flesh, including the small nubbin of foreskin that wrapped his glans. His appendage protruded out over his acorn sized testicles, which sagged slightly in a smooth, loose purse of skin. Above his penis, his cream colored pubic mound was barely adorned with twenty or so fine new curlies. Puberty was taking up residence in the boy, and he studied the recent changes in the mirror. As he looked down, he twirled his little pubic hairs between his fingers. This was a recent addition to his body, and had begun growing in slowly for the last three months or so. Looking back at the mirror, Shay turned sideways looking at his slender profile. He couldn't help but notice the other deep bruise on his outer thigh just below his buttocks. The boy rubbed it gently, and sighed. His perusal finished, the boy stepped back into his briefs, and carrying his ankle socks, he opened the bathroom door and padded back across the hall toward his bedroom. He heard the heavy wooden front door slam then, downstairs, and he hurried to his room and closed the door behind him. His father was home, and the boy quickly pulled on a loose tee shirt and a pair of shorts, wondering what kind of mood his old man would be in tonight. It was Friday evening after all. Not that he would be getting off work or anything. Shay's father, who's name is Graham, was unemployed, having quit his job some months back after Shay's mother had died. There had been a tidy insurance policy, and after loosing his wife, the man had changed dramatically. They lived off the insurance now for the most part, his dad spending most of the day at one local pub or another. He and his mates hung out there most of the day, or popped down to the Club at Finsbury Square for a round of lawn bowling. Lawn bowling of all things. His father was always telling Shay not to be a sissy. Be macho, he'd say, play rugby or football he'd say. And then the old man would go out and play lawn bowling with his mates. Not to put down the sport mind you, it was rather interesting after all, but if any English sport would be considered sissy, it would have to be lawn bowling. Shay had never said this to his father though. That would lead to trouble. Shay heard his father calling out to him from downstairs, and he quickly headed down to find him in the living room, sitting on the couch with a pint of ale in his hand and the telly blaring away. "Hey dad..." Shay offered in a lighthearted tone, hoping his father was in a passable mood. "Boy." His father responded in return. "Av you got tea on, I'm bloody well starving." "Not yet dad. I just got home and took a shower." "It's half six boy... Why are ye' gettin' home so late?" His father grumbled. Shay shrugged his shoulders as he stood in the entryway to the living room. "Do'know, just am. I was at the park playin' football with me mates..." His father shook his head, and took a long draw of his beer. "Hangin' out with that sissy friend of yours, Asher, I suppose?" The old man guessed. "He's not a sissy dad, he's me friend." Shay responded coolly, not wanting to get his father started on the subject. "Ahh.... Well go on then, put somethin' on for tea." Graham mumbled gruffly. Shay sauntered back to the kitchen and began putting together a late meal for them. Nothing much really, a few meat pies, some cheese and biscuits. The things that he knew his father preferred for late tea. He put the kettle on as well, though he knew the old man would rather another pint of ale. Still he tried. His father's drinking had become heavy of late. Ever since his mum had died. Everything had changed back then; especially his father. The boy loaded everything onto a serving tray and walked it carefully into the front room. They hadn't used the dining room in months. "What's this then..." Graham grumbled, indicating the tea pot. "Thought pr'haps you'd like some tea this time." Shay explained. His father merely shook his head dismissively, pushing the tea away. "Grab me a beer from the fridge. Come on then boy, be quick..." Shay reluctantly went back to the kitchen and grabbed his father another pint. He returned to the front room and sat with his father, watching the telly with disinterest and snacking from the tray. Graham was fairly quiet, he always was. He rarely engaged in idle conversation with his son anymore. "Dad..." Shay portended. "What now boy?" His father mumbled, as if interrupted from watching the telly. "Its Saturday tomorrow... Chelsea's got a match at Stamford Bridge in the afternoon. Can I go?" Shay wondered, referring to the Chelsea football club, his favorite professional soccer team. His father glanced sideways at him, popped the last of his meat pie in his mouth, then casually licked the grease from his fingertips. "They suck this year boy." His father responded coolly. "Waste a money that..." "Dad, they've only got two matches left this season, and I've not been to one this year." Shay pleaded. Which was a lie actually. He'd been to several matches with his friends, but, he couldn't tell his old man that. His father wasn't overly fond of his friends. "So, canna' go? The tickets are free..." Graham took another slug of his ale, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at his son. "I suppose you'd be goin' with that fruit of a friend, Asher." His dad assumed. "He's not a fruit dad, he's me friend. And you shouldn't call people that..." Shay defended. "Hell he's not... I know someone's queer when I see em." Graham spat. Shay looked away, not wanting to confront his father any further. Asher was his best friend. They had been so since he was a young lad of three; but the truth was though, that Asher, who had just turned thirteen, had recently declared to him that he may indeed be gay. Shay didn't really care one way or the other, of course. Asher had always been his best mate, and always would be. The two boys had even shared several innocent, intimate moments. They had masturbated several times together, as boys this age oft times do. And after one of those times, Asher had even leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek. Shyly, and somewhat fearfully the boy had admitted to Shay that he might be gay, as they sat there quietly on his bed. Shay had briefly contemplated this announcement, then smiled acceptingly at his best friend then, and not wanting him to feel awkward, he had leaned over and returned the gentle kiss. "So canna' go to the match dad... Please?" Shay asked again quietly. "Meh... I don't bloody well care." His father replied half heartedly. "I'll be goin' down the club anyways. So do as ya like... Just make sure ya clean up this place up tomorrow a'for you go, understand?" Shay nodded, then standing up, he gathered up the serving tray and one of his father's empty ale bottles and took them back into the kitchen. The boy took care of the few dishes, and then hurried back upstairs to his room. Flopping onto his bed Shay grabbed up his cell phone, which had been a gift from his mum, and he called his friend Asher. "Ash... Dude I can go." He spoke quietly after his friend had answered. "Cool." Came the soft voice in return. "Your old man's actually gonna' let you go? Or are we doing this on the sly?" "No, we don't have'ta sneak this time." Shay told him, "He just didn't care." "Yeah, I'll bet he was real pleased that you were going with me though." Asher stated. "Eh, I don't give a bloody fuck what he thinks." Shay replied boldly. "He's just acts weird sometimes." "He didn't hit you again did he?" Asher wondered... Shay reached around and gently touched the bruise on his left shoulder. "Na... Na, it's alright. So listen, come round about eleven okay. Me dad'll be gone by then, and we can head out." "Alright, see you then mate..." Asher replied, and the conversation ended. Shay set his cell phone down on the nightstand and took up a book, which he read for the better part of an hour, until he felt himself growing tired. Rolling up off the bed the boy left his room to use the toilet, and brush his teeth again before turning in for bed. When he'd finished, Shay padded softly downstairs to the living room, where he saw his father lying there, already passed out on the couch. He stood for a moment shaking his head, then went in and shut off the telly. Quietly, he took the mostly empty beer bottle from his father's hand setting it aside on the coffee table. Leaning over, Shay pulled a thin blanket from the back of the divan, and lay it gently over his sleeping father. "Night dad..." He whispered quietly, though he knew his father couldn't hear him. The boy headed back upstairs to his bedroom, closing the door and shutting off the lights. Peeling off his khaki board shorts and tee shirt, he climbed in under the covers, and settled in comfortably into his bed. He lay there for a time thinking about his life. How things had changed since his mom had passed. Shay thought again about how much his father had changed; how he'd become angry, and bitter and totally distant. It made the boy sad just thinking about it, so he started thinking about tomorrow, about going out with his friends. After a time, Shay stretched himself out under the covers, casually running his hands down his torso, and eventually over his underwear clad boy bits. He squeezed them idly for a moment, because of course it always felt so good to do so. And then... Shay was nearly thirteen, and it doesn't take much imagination for boys his age to find ways to feel good. Lifting his hips the boy slipped his underwear down his thighs, freeing his boyhood from its cotton confinement. He slid his hands upward then, playfully fondling himself in the darkness. It didn't take much, it never did, and his youthful appendage started to swell, quickly expanding to its just over four inch length, leaving the boy with a stout erection. He closed his eyes and with his fingers on his inner thighs, he played his thumbs up and down the length of his tumescent boy tube. "Mmm..." He sighed quietly, cupping his boylike testicles, enjoying their warmth and the feel of his silky smooth, loose sack. And with that he commenced his nightly ritual. The nightly ritual of most lads his age. Using three fingertips and the thumb of his left hand, Shay stroked his young pickle, relishing the slender feel of his warm boy pole. He wasn't real thick down there, slightly wider than a two pence piece, but it felt right in his fingers, and he was certainly comparable to most boys his age. Shay was content with his size, knowing that it is a blatant exaggeration when people say that many twelve-year-olds have a six inch schlong, with it being around an inch and a half thick. It's just not so, except in the exaggerations boys tell. There's always the exception of course, but Shay was most certainly the usual size for a boy his age. With eyes closed, Shay let his mind wander, focusing on the pleasant feeling emanating from his boy bits. "Mmm..." He moaned again after a time, and his thoughts drifted to the last time he and Asher had jerked off together. There had been something exciting about that. Jerking off, while watching your best mate do the same. And oddly enough, Asher's confession that he might be gay, well... Somehow that was strangely exciting as well, wasn't it... Shay quickened his pace, feeling his arousal building as the tingles churned through him, causing his legs to twitch sporadically. "Uhhh...." The boy grunted with pleasure, his thighs suddenly feeling heavy. In his mind, he was picturing Ash, picturing his body clenching, and the thin spurts of clearish boy seed that had ejaculated from him... And that's all it took to put him over the edge. Shay's body numbed, that insanely delightful seizure, as his boyhood lurched and spat several pulses of his own sticky boy goo up across his flat belly. "Unnnch... Oh ghaaaa..." He mumbled with a ghostly moan. His breathing hurried, the boy went limp on his bed as he slowly came down from the high of ejaculation. It was awesome. Wasn't it always... He lay there quietly for several moments, then used some tissues to wipe the wet mess from his stomach. The boy tossed the wadded tissues onto the floor, then licked his fingertips of any residual. In the darkness, he reached down and pulled his underwear back up, and then pulled the bed covers back up over his chest; and with that relief, he quickly fell asleep. The following morning Shay woke up about nine thirty. He crawled out of bed and ambled across the hall to use the toilet for a morning wee. He washed his face and ran a comb through his hair, then returned to his bedroom. Digging in his wardrobe, Shay pulled out his authentic Chelsea football jersey, with his name and the number three screened onto the back of it, and he pulled it on over his head. Sitting on the edge of his bed to put his socks on, he spotted the wadded up tissues on the floor from the previous night, which he'd used to clean himself with. He had forgotten to get rid of it, so he picked them up now and marched them back across the hall to the toilet, flushing away the always incriminating evidence. Stepping out of the loo, Shay looked over the railing to downstairs. "Dad..." he called out, and waited for replay. When none came, Shay padded downstairs, still wearing nothing but his soccer jersey over his white cotton briefs. "Dad..." He called again, looking into the living room, before checking his father's bedroom. Apparently his father had already gone out. The boy started back upstairs when he heard the front bell ring. Someone was at the front door, so Shay went back to the entry, and peeked through the glass doors shear white curtain. A grin spread his features, and he opened up the door. "Oye, you're early..." Shay greeted the two boys standing on the front stoop. His best mates Asher and Nathan grinned back at him. "Nice of you to dress up for me." Asher teased, lifting up Shay's jersey, exposing his white cotton briefs. Shay looked down and blushed slightly; he'd forgotten for a moment that he hadn't put his trousers on yet. The two boys followed Shay inside. Asher was indeed a cute looking boy, slender of build with mid length light brown hair. He stood about five feet tall, which was just an inch or so taller than Shay. The lad had stunning hazel colored eyes, with a golden ring surrounding his iris's; which seemed to glisten when the youngster smiled. He was fair of face, thin, girlishly cute some might say. And when he smiled, a small dimple set in just at the corners of his mouth; adding an impishly playful quality to his appearance. The other boy, Nathan, was a touch shorter than Shay, and fuller of build, though not thick by any means. He looked the typical twelve-year-old. Nathan had darkish brown hair which covered his ears, and his bangs hung loosely over his forehead, almost shading the soft gray of his eyes. "You goin' to the game like that then, with yer bits 'angin out?" Nathan teased. Shay returned a sarcastic smile, and lightly punched his friend on the shoulder. "No you dip wad. I told you, you guys were early. Come on then..." He offered, trotting up the stairs toward his bedroom. The other boys followed him upstairs to his room. Shay stepped in, then sat on the edge of his bed again, and pulled on a pair of clean white ankle socks. Asher sat bedside him on the bed, and Nate stood a few feet away. "Warm enough for shorts is it?" Shay questioned, noticing the other boys were both wearing board shorts. "Yeah, it's gonna' be nice out today, I wouldn't bother with trousers." Asher replied. With a nod, Shay got up and retrieved a pair of boardies from his wardrobe and stepped into them. He motioned for Asher to get up from the bed, wanting to straiten it before they left. He began pulling the bedcovers up, suddenly exposing one last wadded up tissue from one of the folds. "Oye... What's this then?" Asher chided with a knowing smirk. He pinched the edge of the crusty tissue between finger and thumb, lifting it, and waggling it about in the air. Shay blushed heartily, and quickly snatched the evidence from his friend's fingers. "Havin' a bit of a wank in the moonlight last night were you?" Nathan teased. "Shut up..." Shay replied defensively. "And without me..." Asher pouted, jutting his bottom lip out with mock hurt feelings. "Yeah, like you two gits didn't play whack-a-mole last night in yer own beds..." Shay accused; knowing full well that he was right. The other boys merely shrugged, resigned in the fact that they had, and they all knew it. The three boys smiled sheepishly. They were all friends, and good natured ribbing like that was always company to that friendship. Shay hurried across the hall to the toilet, flushing the last of the evidence; perturbed at himself that he'd missed this one. What if his dad had seen it? He probably would have gotten a lecture, on the evils of masturbation. Funny, that it never occurs to boys that their fathers had more than likely done their fair share of tossing off when they were lads. If not even now... Returning to his room he noticed that Nathan was wearing a white Chelsea jersey. "Whatcha' wearin' an away jersey for?" Shay wondered. "They're playin' at home today." "It's all I got, isn't it..." Nathan quipped in return. "Anyways, yer wearin' a jersey from a couple'a seasons ago." "I like this one." Shay defended. "It's always been me favorite." The jersey had broad stripes of alternating deep blue and black, with black sleeves and a V neck, and Shay's favorite part was the bright yellow Adida's piping throughout... "It's cool..." "Besides," Asher added, "His mum give it to em..." Nathan nodded quietly then, appreciating the sentimental attachment. With that, the boys tromped down the stairs. Shay grabbed up his key from the basket beside the door, and a thoughtful smile crossed his lips. There was a £20 note attached to the key. A surprising little offering from his father, so that he'd have some extra spending money. Shay's throat actually tightened a bit with emotion, because gestures like this had become more than rare of late. The three boys headed out, with Shay locking up the front door behind them. Their stride down the sidewalk was a happy one, with the lads talking animatedly between themselves, and Nathan, as always, bounced around them like an excited Terrier pup; he was hyper that one. They hurried the several blocks to the route 12 bus stop, and within five minutes the double decker pulled up to the covered bench. The boys climbed aboard and swiped their Oyster Cards at the reader to pay the fare, then found seats in the lower section since they weren't going all that far today, and the bus whisked out into the heavy traffic. London traffic is always quite heavy, what with all the buses, taxi's and cars, bicycles and a multitude of wandering tourists flowing in and out. The large double deckers are a marvel though, seeming to navigate the tightest of spots with nary a problem. The outbound 12 quickly reached a stop near Trafalgar Square, and the boys hopped off there, running across toward one of the London Underground entrances. There were lots of folks bustling about there, plus a throng of locals adorned in their Chelsea Jerseys and game scarves. Match day always brought out the extra crowds, even when one of the local teams was struggling a bit. Picking their way through the crowd, the boys hurried down to the tubes, and were just in time to catch the next train heading out on the proper line, which would take them close by Stamford Bridge stadium. The boys picked one of the carriages which was filled with other Chelsea fans, and it was abuzz with chatter, as it always seemed to be on game day. Fans were fired up for the match, with some of them already 'abuzz' from their pregame visit to the pub... The boys shouldered in, sitting together on the left side of the train. British soccer fans are insanely faithful to their various teams, and already they were breaking out in song and English supporter chants. Men and women fans alike literally singing them out loud in the train car. The boys of course joined in, because all true fans know the chants. "We're the boys in Royal Blue, we're the pride of London, We'll always stand for Chelsea, until the day is done, done... We wear the Blue with honour, we keep the Blue Flag flying high, We'll always follow Chelsea, that's why we're London's Pride." Other versus followed, mixed with cheers and shouts. It may be suspected that some of those folks who had come from the pubs had started the most of the rousing chants. But it was part of the fun, and the three boys had happily joined in. "What about the Oggie chant?" Nathan suggested during a brief lull. It was his favorite. "Well go then lad, start us off." A burly man sitting beside them prodded. Nathan grinned timidly. "Go on Nate..." Shay encouraged. Nathan stood at his seat and cleared his throat. "When I say Oggie, you say Oye..." Nathan piped up, raising his voice above the din of noise in the train car. The other passengers responded. Nate; "OGGIE OGGIE OGGIE..." Fans; "Oye Oye Oye..." Nate; OGGIE OGGIE OGGIE..." Fans; "Oye Oye Oye..." Nate; "OGGIE..." Fans; "OYE..." Nate; "OGGIE..." Fans; "OYE..." Nate; "OGGIE OGGIE OGGIE..." Fans; "Oye Oye Oye..." When the chant was finished, the carriage erupted in cheer, the chant being quite popular amongst the soccer crowd. Nathan sat back in his seat, seemingly quite proud of himself. "Well done lad." Someone said. "What a tool..." Asher teased, punching Nathan on the shoulder, as he and Shay giggled at their friend. Ultimately it didn't take too long for the train to reach the Fulham Broadway tube station and the Chelsea fans were quick to spill out onto the streets. They made the short walk to the Stamford Bridge football grounds, and Asher handed his two mates their tickets. His father was a longtime season ticket holder, and if he couldn't go, he'd oft times let his son take whomever he wanted to the match. The boys made their way up to the stands, making a quick pit stop first in the loo to take a needed piss. Shay and Nathan stepped up at the far end of the toilets. The urinals were the long trough type, like cattle feeders, only for pissing in. Shay fished his dick out, letting out a contented sigh as his stream started. "Ahh, needed that..." He muttered. "Yeah right." Nathan grinned alongside him, "You just wanted to finger your dingus." "Oh, I'm sorry mate," Shay teased back, "Did you wanna' have a go at it?" He turned slightly, as if presenting his penis to the other boy. "Oye, piss off wanker..." Nathan laughed, bumping his shoulder against Shays. When they'd finished up they joined Asher who was standing in queue at the concessions. They each bought a large soda and a meat and cheese pasty, then made their way to their seats in the stands. Chelsea was playing one of its rivals, Manchester City today, and the crowd, including the boys were quite loud and very much into the match. City scored first, and went in at half time up one-nil. The second half saw some fiery action though, including a penalty kick when Chelsea midfielder Oscar was taken down in the box in the sixty forth minute. He hammered home the penalty kick, tying the match at one all. The match went back and forth until the eighty second minute, when Chelsea star forward Diego Costa nodded home a firm header from twelve yards out. The stands erupted in wild cheers at the go ahead goal, and Shay and his mates exchanged high fives, yelling as loudly as anyone. Some four minutes later, Oscar sealed the game with a blistering full volley from twenty yards out, that ripped past the helpless goalkeeper as it tore into the upper corner of the net. The stadium erupted again, chanting and singing out yet another English football song. Shay, who was standing in the middle, had his arms around his friend's shoulders, and the three boys rocked from side to side, singing loudly and celebrating the victory, which was now clearly in hand. It was a great day, and one of the best Shay had had in quite some time... Eventually the happy crowds drained out of the stadium, many of them including the boys, heading back to the tube station, to catch the underground back into the city. It was a fun ride back; it always is after the home team wins. Stepping up out of the tube station, and feeling a bit hungry the boys popped into the Pret, one of a chain of small eateries around London. Shay and Asher split a tuna and cucumber baguette, and Nate decided on a chicken wrap. "Bloody hell..." Nathan muttered, looking down to see that he'd spilled a glob of the white sauce on his game jersey. The other boys showed no mercy. "Splooge on yer'self did you?" Shay quipped. "What, again? You've gah'a get control of that thing mate..." Asher added, pumping his fist in the air for visual effect. "Bugger off man..." Nathan retorted with a chuckle. "It's not me fault, its so big it gets away from me at times..." The other's shook their heads, giggling accordingly. Boys! Finishing up, the boys jumped on the route 12 inbound bus and headed back toward their neighborhoods. As they crossed the road Nathan turned off, his house being the other way. The other two waved casually back at him, and two blocks later Asher split off for his house. "See ya. Ring me later yeah?" He requested. Shay nodded and waved as he headed down Burnaby Road. Already he was thinking about his father, and wondering what kind of mood to expect when he got in. It occurred to him that his father had asked him to clean up the flat before he went out, which of course he'd forgotten to do. He hoped now that his dad wasn't home yet, but as he reached the door he could tell that this wasn't to be. "Shite..." He breathed to himself, resigned to the fact that he'd surely get a good scolding. Steeling himself, Shay turned the handle and went inside. The boy placed his key in the wicker tray and stepped through the entry, thinking he'd head up to his room. But as he crossed the hall his father's voice broke from the living room. "Come 'ere boy..." The angry sounding voice beckoned. "I thou' ah told ya to clean up this place a'fore ya left." Shay could tell by his speech that his father had been at the pub most of the day and was likely more than a bit soused. "Me mates came round a bit early dad, so I thought I'd do it now, when I got back." "Bollocks... Them sissy friends of yers... I told ya to clean up first, didn' I..?" His father retorted. "Made it quite clear didn' I?" "Yeah..." Shay muttered, looking down at the floor. His father shook his head and stood up clumsily from the divan. "Damn it lad..." He shuffled across to the archway, and swaying a bit he roughly grabbed Shay by the forearm; partially to keep his balance, and partially because he could be rather mean when he was intoxicated. "Owe... Dad let go, yer hurtin' me..." Shay squawked. "Ge'h in there and clean this place up." Graham insisted, tugging roughly on the boy's arm. "Dad stop..." Shay pleaded, tears welling in his eyes as his father forcefully pulled him along to the other room. "Mum wouldn't want you actin' like this..." "YER MUMS DEAD..." Graham bellowed. "She's dead damn ya..." And with that he roughly released Shay's arm. The man stood there with a blanched look on his face, tears filling his eyes. He dropped the mostly empty bottle of ale that he'd had in his other hand, and it fell with a hollow clunk to the wooden floor. "She's dead..." he mumbled again in low tones. And with that, Shay's father shuffled off down the hall towards his own bedroom, the sound of a low sob coming from him. Shay stood where he was, tears in his eyes and a painful burning in his heart. Silently he knelt and picked up the dropped bottle, taking it into the kitchen and tossing it into the rubbish bin. The boy grabbed up a tea towel hanging on the rod on the cupboard door, and he used it to mop up the spilled ale. He cleaned up the kitchen a little, then straitened the living room, before finally making his way upstairs to his bedroom. Sprawling across his bed, warm tears filled his eyes, and Shay allowed himself to cry. His mum was gone. His father seemed to be lost without her. Everything had changed so much. Shay finally managed to pick up his cell phone from the side table, and with some hesitancy he called his friend Asher. "Hello..." Ash's quite voice filled his ear. There was a general silence for a moment, but for Shay's resigned sigh. "Are you aw'right?" Asher prompted. "Canna' come over?" Shay asked softly. "Yeah mate, yeah course... Shit man, you okay?" Asher's tone was alarmed. "See ya in a few..." Shay muttered, then he hung up. The boy stepped softly down the stairs to the parquet landing on the main floor. Looking down the hallway he could see that his father's door was still closed, but there were no sounds coming from his room. Shay's eyes downcast as he stood contemplating for a moment. He knew that his father had likely passed out till morning. Turning toward the door, Shay grabbed up his key from the basket and crept out into the mid evening dusk, closing the heavy wood and glass door behind him. Down the five steps to the sidewalk, he turned to his right and started walking blindly down the block, lost in his own thoughts. Shay heard running feet then, and he looked up to see his friend Asher running toward him. The other boy stopped a few yards short and looked dejectedly at his friend. "Bloody hell mate..." he said softly, seeing the expression on Shay's face. Ash stepped forward, and stopped just in front of him. Seeing Shay's eyes well with tears, Asher immediately put his arms around his best friend, hugging him tightly. "It'll be aw'right..." he breathed, his own eyes beginning to well up now. "I'm not so sure anymore." Shay muttered, and the two boys stood for a long minute in a supportive embrace. Taking charge, Asher pulled away slightly, and putting his arm around his friend's shoulders he led him down the block toward his own house. A couple of minutes later, they reached Asher's place, and going inside they hurried up to Ash's bedroom. "What about yer' parents." Shay wondered. "Not home mate. It's Sat'urday night, they're out dancin... I'll call later and tell 'em your spending the night, it'll be okay." Shay looked despondently at his friend as they sat on the edge of the bed, and Asher glanced down at the red marks on Shay's forearm. "Yer old man do that?" He supposed aloud. Shay's eyes filled and overflowed with tears, and Asher put his arms around his friend and pulled him in closely to his body, hugging him reassuringly. "Yer dad's turned into a right load a shite if you ask me..." Ash declared, leaning his forehead against his friends head while Shay could only cry quietly, feeling defeated. He had hoped for the longest time that his father would come around, snap out of his depression, stop his drinking and become his old self. But nothing seemed to be changing, in fact it was getting worse. "So what happened?" Ash prompted. His friend sighed, a hitch in his voice as he tried to speak. "I was s'posed to clean up the flat be-before I left this morning." Shay stuttered. "Guess it's my fault really..." "Bullshit..." Ash snapped back at him. "It's not yer fault man... Don't ever think it's yer fault, hear me?" Shay nodded, with little conviction, and the boys sat quietly for several minutes. Asher could only sigh as he thought about this seemingly hopeless situation. "We need ta' get you cleaned up." Shay said quietly. "Come on mate..." He stood from his bed, and taking his friend by the hand he walked him across the hall to the bathroom. "Come on, strip off." he directed, and he helped Shay pull the Chelsea Soccer jersey off over his head. Shay stepped out of his Vans, and Asher dropped to a knee to peel off his ankle socks. Standing again, Ash turned and stepped to the shower turning on the water, and adjusting the temperature, but when he turned around, Shay was still standing in his shorts, just as he had been. "Pop them off, and hop in the bath mate." Ash motioned. Shay slipped out of his shorts, then his underwear, letting them drop to a useless pile on the white tile flooring. Asher instinctively glanced down at his boy bits for a moment, unable to resist. Then, with a slight smile he reached out and took Shay by the wrist, ushering him to the bath. "Go on then, ge' in... A nice litt'l wash will make you feel better. I'll go call me folks and tell em' your gonna spend the night." Shay smiled half heartedly, then stepped into the tub and let the soothing waters roll over him. Ash shook his head sadly, then went about gathering Shay's clothes from the counter and floor, taking them with him to his bedroom. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Ash took up his cell phone and made a call to his parents, who were spending the evening out with friends and wouldn't be home till quite late. The phone rang several times before his mother finally answered. "Mum, I've invited Shay over to spend the night. Is tha' aw'right?" "Oh... Sure love that's fine. Is everything alright then?" "Yeah. The usual, you know." Shay responded. It certainly wasn't the first time that Shay had spent the night; and not the first time when his dad had been out of sorts. "Ok then. Well I suspect you'll both be in bed by the time your father and I get home. It will be quiet late so, goodnight. Give our love to Shay, yeah.." "I will mum. Gu'night, and thanks..." Ash disconnected the call, and sat contemplatively on the edge of his bed. The situation surely sucked, but it was always nice to have his best friend over. They had been besties since early childhood, and had shared most every adventure together, both good and bad. They were close; and Shay was the only person besides Nathan and his parents, that he'd come out to, when he had decided that he was gay. Ash smiled as he thought back on it. He had spent the night at Shay's, and having just jerked off together, but not wanting to keep a secret from his best friend, Ash had kissed Shay on the cheek, just before coming out to him. Shay had been unflinching, taking the news as simply as if being told the weather. And then with a warm smile, Shay had leaned over and returned the gentle kiss. Their friendship was unconditional. Asher smiled again, then hopped off his bed and went downstairs to the kitchen, where he set about making some tea, and grabbing up a few biscuits (cookies) for the two of them. When the tea was ready, and with steady hand, he took everything back upstairs to his bedroom. Shay was sitting on the edge of bed, with only a white cotton bath towel wrapped around his middle. He looked up when Asher entered and managed a small smile. "I feel a little beh'er..." he said softly. "Thought you might." Ash replied. "I've brought up some tea and biscuits. Might help as well..." He smiled, setting the goodies on the small bedside table and sitting next to his friend on the bed. Shay pulled his legs up, crossing them, so that he was sitting Indian style on top of the bed, and Ash smiled at his friend's near nakedness, then carefully handed him a mug of tea. The other boy cupped the steaming mug of Chai tea in both hands, sipping at the dark warm liquid. "Mmm, it's sweet..." He remarked. "Just the way you like it. I popped in three lumps of sugar." Ash responded. "Yeah? What about yours then?" Shay queried with a smirk. "Oh, I've got four lumps in mine mate..." He smiled, and both boys laughed. Asher's tea always tasted super sweet, like a warm soda. "Thanks for lettin' me come round." Shay murmured, after he'd taken a few more sips. Asher simply shrugged. "Course..." He replied. "I've always got yer' back." The boys sat quietly for a few moments drinking down the rest of their tea. Shay finally set his mug aside and lay back on the bed, stretching his bare legs out in front of him. He yawned then, and after smiling appreciatively at his friend, he closed his eyes. Within minutes his breathing had softened, sleep beginning to claim him. Asher looked at his friend and smiled wistfully. Shay's bare chest rose and fell slightly with his soft breathing, and Ash silently admired his twelve-year-old friend's sleek, exposed torso. His eyes strayed down to the cotton towel, still loosely wrapped about his waist. There was a small rise there, hidden just under the towel; his friend's boyhood nestled enticingly beneath the soft cotton fabric. Shay smiled again, then sighed as he stood up from the bed. He leaned over and picked up Shay's empty tea mug, setting it on the nightstand with his own. Reaching for the bedcovers he tugged them down slightly, but Shay's sleeping form lay heavily atop them. "Come on mate..." Ash said in quiet tones. He pulled gently on Shay's arm hoping he'd sit up enough to pull the covers out from under him. Shay did sit up a little, though for all intents and purposes he was far more asleep than awake. "Come on then, under the covers with you..." Asher prompted gently. Shay obliged in a daze, but he swung his bare legs around a little, causing his towel to fall open. "Bleedin' hell..." Asher whispered softly, "Teasin' me like that..." He shook his head with a half smile on his face, then pulled the covers up over Shay's bare legs. He would have left the towel, but it was still a bit damp from the shower so he pulled it away, leaving Shay naked beneath the bedcovers. Ash stood then, and retrieving the tea cups he took them back downstairs to the kitchen and rinsed them out in the basin. Locking the front door (his parents could use their key) he returned upstairs into his bedroom and switched off the light. Peeling off his shirt and shorts, he contemplated slipping out of his underwear as well. He usually slept in the nude, but when Nathan or Shay spent the night they always left their skivvies on when sleeping in the same bed. And even though Shay was naked under the covers now, he didn't want to alarm him by doing so as well, so he left them on and slipped into bed. The boy stretched himself out making himself comfortable under the covers, and moments later he felt his friend shifting alongside him. Shay had rolled onto his side and was nestled in against him now, with one arm draped innocently over Ash's bare chest. It felt... Really nice actually. "Mm... Thanks Ash..." Shay mumbled groggily, still for the most part sound asleep. Asher lay there dreamily for several minutes, enjoying the contact of his friends warm body, as it snuggled up against him. He opened his eyes suddenly in the darkness, as a new feeling came over him. He had suddenly become aware of a warm, firm object pressed against his thigh. Shay was sporting a stout erection in his sleep, and his stiff naked willy was firmly planted there on Asher's leg.... Ash shivered, albeit contentedly, wishing that his friend was gay as well. God the things they could do if he was... Then he closed his eyes again and let his mind wander, his thoughts steeped in fantasy. It was almost surprising really, that not long after that, he drifted off to fitful dream- filled sleep; and he did so, with his own rigid boy spike straining against the fabric of his underwear... ~~ End Of Chapter One ~~ Please Note; Former email, about.a.boy no longer exists. Comments are always welcome at; ians.daydream@gmail.com Hope you are enjoying this coming of age tale. It is a Boy's duty, to explore, experiment, and enjoy with curious wonder, this precious time of adolescent change. Where every experience is new, and nothing is off the table. Enjoy it boys.... Also, stay tuned for more new stories from About A Boy I really appreciate your reading my stories, and offering up your comments... I truly hope that you continue to enjoy them, and just maybe, find something of your own similar boyhood memories mixed into it as well... Childhood was a wonderfully innocent time, wasn't it..........