Category Sex Hikayeleri

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Subject: A Kid Named Ryan Chapter 9 [Thanks for reading my story and for your comments. Help Nifty keep stories like this available by making a donation fty/donate.html] A Kid Named Ryan – Chapter 9 While I should have told him to dress better than his usual shorts, tee shirt and sport shoes for the visit to see his grandmother, he surprised me. Ryan was wearing a nice pair of jeans, a white sport shirt and boat shoes. “As my dad would say, ‘You clean up nice,'” I said. Now, he might have taken a cue from me since I was already in khakis and a collared-knit shirt. He smiled and said, “Thanks. Mom and Dad always made me wear something nice when we would go to visit Grandma.” Boone was a two-hour drive and we were able to talk about funeral options as we drove along. Ryan wasn’t sure he wanted to see his deceased parents’ bodies and, therefore, seemed to be opting for cremation. We talked about having a service of some sorts, but he said he and his parents didn’t go to church much. “Okay. If you think you want to do something like that, funeral homes usually have local ministers they can call who will be happy to help.” That was, for the time being, agreeable with him. He then asked, “What’s going to happen to our house and all their clothes and stuff?” “That’ll be something we address later on. But, that does bring up another question I haven’t asked you. Do you know if your parents had a will of any kind?” “Yeh. I think they did. At least, I think I remember them talking about it before. Since dad worked for the bank, maybe someone there would know.” That bit of news was a huge relief to me. With his father having worked in the financial industry, I wanted to think – and hope – that someone would be able to assist Ryan with all the necessary things concerning wills and probate as well as his financial future. Ryan, thankfully, did remember how to get to the facility his grandmother was in. We arrived just after lunch had been served, so the lady at the receptionist’s desk said she would more than likely be in her room. As we walked down the corridor to room 406, Ryan’s pace slowed a bit. “You okay?” I asked. “I don’t want to do this, Mark.” “You know I’m here; I’ll pick up with whatever you can’t say. What’s your grandmother’s name?” “Lucille,” he said. “Is she your mom’s or dad’s mother?” “Mom’s.” Standing outside her room, I whispered in his ear, “Deep breath,” and with my hand gently on the small of his back, we made our way in. “Hi, Grandma!” Ryan said as cheerfully as he could. She opened her eyes; she was surprised and so excited to see him. He sat down on the edge of her bed and she asked, “Where’s your mom and dad?” And with that, he began to lose it. Ryan tried through his emotions to tell her what had happened, but he could only get so far. He looked at me and, stepping closer to her, I said: “Hi, Lucille. I’m Ryan’s friend and high school teacher, Mark – Mark Morrison. Unfortunately, we are here to tell you some sad news. Ryan’s parents were killed in a car accident this past Thursday.” Her face went blank and, in that next moment, she turned her full attention to her grandson, who was wiping tears from his eyes. She reached for Ryan’s hands and, as best as she could, pulled him close to her and gave him a hug. “Ryan. I don’t know what to say. Are you okay?” She thought that Ryan had been in the car with them. He did a good job, though, of picking up the story from there, explaining that he wasn’t with them, that he had been at a soccer camp and how I fit into the picture now. “Oh my goodness. Lord, please have mercy on them,” she prayed. We stayed with her for over thirty minutes. As we talked she would remind Ryan of stories and other memories that he, more often than not, would remark, “I forgot about that.” She asked about funeral plans, so I interjected, “We’ll probably be going to the funeral home tomorrow or Tuesday. Do you think you want to come to escort izmit the funeral?” She declined because of her inability to get around well and not wanting to “be a burden on anyone.” We both assured her that she wouldn’t be and that, if she wanted to be there, we’d find a way to make it happen. It was determined that once plans were made, we would call the facility and see what our options were then. We began to say our goodbyes. Looking at Ryan, she said, “Bye, sweetie. I love you.” “I love you, too, Grandma.” Ryan leaned over and gave her a hug. She then kissed him on the top of his head. As we got to the lobby, I put my arm around Ryan and said, “You did pretty good in there.” “No. I really didn’t. Thanks for stepping in when you did.” “But you really did, Ryan. Once you were past getting the hard part out, you were focused on her and she needed that. I’m impressed, dude.” He looked at me and smiled. Getting into the car I asked about stopping for something to eat. We went to a fast-food place on the way out of town. Ryan ordered chicken strips with fries while I had a chicken sandwich and fries. We took our drinks, had them refilled and headed to the car. The drive back was, for the most part, pretty quiet. As we left, he had brought his ear buds with him. So he pulled them out and began to listen to music from his cell phone. Maybe about 45 minutes into the drive, he pulled the buds out, look out the windshield for a few moments, then put his hand on top of mine. “What’s up?” I asked. “Can we talk about last night?” Waiting for a brief moment, I said, “I know we have to but can we wait till we get back. I really would prefer to be able to give you my full attention instead of trying to talk and drive.” He was okay with that and then said, “Mark, thanks for everything.” “You’re welcome, Ryan. You’re welcome.” I patted him on his hand and he went back to listening to music until we arrived home. After we got inside, I asked if he wanted to talk now or, maybe, go relax by the pool first. He immediately said, “Let’s talk. I’ve been waiting to do this all day.” We both decided to change clothes so we could get into something more comfortable. After I put on an older pair of cargo shorts and a tee shirt, I went to the living room and waited for him. A few minutes later, Ryan came in wearing board shorts and a tee shirt. “Help me move the coffee table?” I asked him. “Huh,” he groaned. “Just help me move it, please.” And after doing so, I sat on the floor leaning against the sofa. Patting the floor to my right, I said, “C’mon. Will you sit down next to me?” “What’s with you always wanting to sit on the floor?” “Leveling the playing field.” “What?” “When I was young and my dad wanted to talk to me about something important, he always had me sit with him on the floor, usually in my bedroom so my mom wouldn’t hear us talking. If it was serious, he had me sit directly in front of him.” “Like I did on Friday afternoon.” “Exactly. It was his way of making sure he wasn’t intimidating me. Dad’s former military and, when I was very young, I was afraid of him. After I became a teenager, he found this way to talk to me and it lessened the intimidation factor. As he called it ‘leveling the playing field’ for me.” Ryan nodded as if he understood. Then I asked, “Do you want to start?” “Uhhhh….” “I’m willing to let you go first. Say anything, ask any question you want about last night.” “Well, first,” he kind of stumbled to begin, “I really have to apologize for the way I acted. For yelling at you. And for hitting you.” “Yeh. By the way, on that, you’ve gotten a helluva lot stronger. My chest is still smarting from where you hit me last night.” “Really? I didn’t mean to hurt you.” “I know. I was just trying to break some of the tension here,” as I motioned with my hands between him and me. “So, anyway; anything else?” “Yeh. You told me some of your story before, but can you to izmit escort tell me more about how you knew you were gay?” “What I’m going to tell you is very personal,” I bgean. So, please, I have to know I can fully trust you and you won’t tell this to anyone.” After he said, “Absolutely,” I went into a lot more detail about when and how I figured it out as well as the very limited, gay encounters and relationships I had in high school and college. “Bottom line, I lived a pretty sheltered life, sexually, until I began to room with Matt at college. He started wanting to do stuff I didn’t know anything about. The more we tried, the more I knew I didn’t enjoy most of it. The worst was the anal stuff. I hated that.” He nodded his head, but I was pretty sure he didn’t understood the last part. “The one thing I learned though from all that shit with Matt was that once you let someone bring you to orgasm, your life is changed forever. It’s as if that person now has part of your soul.” After I asked if he had anything else, he shook his head saying, “No, don’t think so.” I moved enough so that I could see him better, particularly to be able to see his eyes, and said, “Ryan, I’m scared. I’m scared being around you. Yet, at the same time, I look forward to what a future possibly holds for us because of where things are right now. I’m sorry you’re parents died, I really am. You don’t know how it hurts me to see you going through what you are. But I’m glad I can be here for you and that you’re trusting me and allowing me to be with you and help you through all this.” He went back to my first words and, with a quizzical look on his face, said, “Why do I scare you?” “Remember this morning when you came back from your run and you caught me staring at you? You looked at me and said, ‘What?’ Well, I was more than ‘marveling at youth’ as I told you. I’m jealous of you. You are so, so…” and I knew – and he knew – I wanted to say ‘hot,’ but couldn’t pull the trigger on the word. “Or, when we went into my bedroom Friday afternoon to take a nap and you noticed I had a hard on. It was embarrassing, to be honest. But I did because – being honest – you turn me on. So, if you and I want this thing to work out for the long haul, this sexual tension is going to be an issue that we have to figure out how to handle.” “Oh.” “So what happened last night scares me. I went too far and it really scares the hell out of me.” I stopped talking for a few moments, then said, “So, can I ask you a question?” “Sure.” “When you asked me last night to ‘prove it,’ were you asking me to prove I was gay or were you asking me to prove I really love you.” Ryan looked at the floor for a few moments, then he interlocked the fingers of his right hand with mine and then said, “That you really love me.” After asking him why I had to prove I loved him, or if he did really doubt it, he couldn’t come up with an answer. I suggested that, maybe, it was everything he had gone through in such a short amount of time these past few days and he just needed some assurance. He said, “Maybe. I guess so.” “One thing I learned is that love and sex are not the same thing. Just because you have sex, doesn’t mean there’s any love between the persons. And when people think they’re in love with each other, it doesn’t mean that sex makes the relationship better.” I finished the thought saying, “Sometimes, as I found out, it can actually make things worse.” There was no response. He just kept staring at our hands. I broke the silence by saying, “Okay, we’ve been at this for a while. I need to relieve myself.” Time out, okay?” I stood up first and then helped him to his feet. I headed to my bathroom to take a leak and then washed my hands and face. Getting back to the living room before Ryan did, I took the same place in front of the sofa. He came out of the hall bathroom, but now he wasn’t wearing a shirt. As he sat down next to izmit kendi evi olan escort me, I said, “More comfortable?” “Yeh.” And he smiled. I asked about how he learned about sex and if he had ever done anything sexually with someone else. His dad had “the talk” with him when he was in seventh grade. He related one, very limited sexual experience he had up to that time with another guy. “So, last night, after I finished, what were you thinking?” He hesitated, then glanced my way. “It was perfect.” “”What little that happened was ‘perfect?'” I sounded as if I was astounded. And I was. “It was to me,” he said. He waited a moment then said, “Can I ask you something?” “Anything.” “Do you jack off?” “There’s not a guy in the world who’s been through puberty who hasn’t.” He laughed a little and then asked, “When was the last time you did?” “Definitely before last Sunday when we left for camp. You?” “Same.” And then there was this silence that came over us. I wasn’t sure why, but it did. For several minutes, nothing was said. Then, all of sudden he turned, straddled me, cupped my face in his hands and began kissing me. I pushed gently on his shoulders, so he might let up for a moment and, looking intently at him, I said, “Wait, dude. What’s up?” No answer. For a few moments he looked deep into my eyes, then he went back to kissing me as passionately as he knew how. My cock started to swell and I could feel his was, too. When he came up for air, I wrestled him off me. I straddled him and was able to pin his wrists with my hands to the floor. Staring at him, I asked, “Dude, what gives?” No answer, again, but I could tell by his eyes that he wasn’t finished. Now, I doubt, despite how strong he was, that Ryan could have take me if we were truly wrestling, but he mustered a lot of strength and reversed things. Now, he was back on top of me. Bending down, he started kissing me again. “What’s going on,” I thought. He stopped and sat up. “Can you let me up, please?” I asked. Ryan rolled off of me and now was on my right side. “What gives, dude?” I asked again. He moved to pull my shirt off, but I crossed my arms so he couldn’t. “Take off your shirt.” He just looked into my eyes and then he said, “Please.” So I let him. Without another word, he started rubbing my cock through my shorts. It felt great, but, shit, I was now really scared as hell. I did nothing to stop him, though. I could feel pre-cum inside my shorts. He had his face near my neck and ear; his breathe was thoroughly intoxicating. Then, with his fingers, he started tracing across the top of my shorts. I sucked in my stomach and, immediately, his hand went underneath my waistband. Gently taking my fully erect cock in his hands, he repeated what I had done to him the night before – just a few strokes. Then, he sat up, unbuttoned and unzipped the cargo shorts I had on and, after removing them, he slid my underwear off. Leaning on his elbow next to me, he started really stroking me. I think he was mesmerized by what was happening. It didn’t take long and I knew I was about to shoot a load. I let out a moan. Four or five ropes of cum landed on my chest and stomach. He kept stroking while what was left oozed onto his right thumb. As my cock began to go limp, he looked at all the cum and said, “Damn! Do I get you that horny?” Sighing and heavily breathing, I said, “Yeh. Yeh, you do.” He was looking at the load I had shot, but didn’t say a word. Some moments passed and with his right index finger he dipped it in my cum and brought a small bit to my lips. Taking a deep sigh, I sucked on his finger and licked some of the jizz that was still on his thumb. Then, we just stayed there for what seemed like an eternity – yet it was only a few minutes. Taking a deep breath, I asked, “Now what?” For several moments he said nothing and so we were just there, his head resting on my shoulder. Then, he sat up, looked at me and said softly: “You said a few minutes ago that when ‘someone brings you to orgasm, your life is changed forever. It’s like that person now has part of your soul.'” He smiled, laid his head back on my shoulder and I knew what had just happened – and why.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Subject: A Young Surfer – Chapter 6 I felt really strange and sick in my stomach after the Golf course session in the Rolls Royce car with that weird guy and his dog. I tried not to think about it and I definitely wasn’t going to mention it to Jeff. He’d freak out and probably call me all sorts of names or something…I don’t really know but I had a lot of shame about it. I loved the way weird guy fucked me, forcing my ass cheeks wide open…I admit that was freaking hot but when his dog started licking me it all got too weird for me at the time. In a little over 3 weeks I have been fucked by 3 different men, sucked their cocks and swallowed some of their cum and had them shoot into me. I loved it and honestly it didn’t bother me that weird guy was pretty ugly. I loved the way I got him off and that’s what I was craving…more cocks to suck and fuck me…what is happening to me? I’m pretty sure I’m the only boy at School doing grown men and I can’t even brag about it. The waves were really good in the middle of the northern beach today where I go when the wind blows west north west. Not many people visit this part of the beach because it’s quite hard to get to and has soft sand hills into a wooded area behind it. Along the wooded area for about 4 kilometers are some public car parks with toilet and shower facilities and sandy tracks to the beach. I often see people, mostly older men sun baking naked in the dunes as I walk down the tracks. They are mostly out of sight but sometimes I take a short cut over the dunes and I see them. Occasionally I might see a guy jerking off but I have never stopped. I walked out of the surf and felt really good. I got some nice waves and I was surfing as good as ever. I dried off on the sand and took a small trail over the first sand dune down into a sand valley. The trail continued along the valley before heading over the second dune into the wooded area. It’s not a main path but it had been walked a few times and there were foot prints in the sand so I knew I was going to eventually end up on a path to the car park. As I reached the tree line I spotted a very tanned lean man with light blue brief speedo swimwear standing with his hands on his hips looking at me. We were only about 15 meters apart on the same dune. I stopped and turned back towards the surf pretending to look at the waves. I took a quick look sideways and he gestured at me by rubbing his hand over his cock. I quickly turned back to the surf but I couldn’t help myself, I turned back to him and he nodded towards the thick scrubs for me to go over and meet him. My heart started racing and my mouth was drying up…I was nervous and excited at the same time. It suddenly dawned on me that if I look for cock I will find it. It wasn’t that I was now attracting more of it, it was those few seconds that I now notice and take advantage of the opportunity. Usually I’d be in the car park facilities having a quick shower before walking out onto the road and into town but today I stopped and within that few seconds looking at this man I have told him, not in so many words, that I was interested. I nervously walked down the sand track thinking about what will happen. I don’t have any lube so he can’t fuck me kocaeli escort bayan but I can suck his cock. Yeah…that would be nice. What if he fingers my hole and wants to fuck me? Maybe he has lube…stop, stop these thoughts were driving me crazy. I’ll just put my board down and see what happens. I had my towel wrapped around me and my speedo and board shorts were in my small backpack. I was naked under my towel which was pretty normal after a surf. I reached the wooded area and I could see his blue speedo through the shrubs. I pushed my board and backpack into some thick bushes and hid them taking note of where they were so I could collect them after. I could hear the crackle of twigs as he moved into a small open area. I ducked under a bush, then another and all of a sudden I was in the open space with him. It kind of gave me a bit of a scare when I looked up and saw him. He was smiling when he said “well look at you, you little surfie boy” – surfie boy, what the hell. “hi” I said. He didn’t waste anytime and moved over to me feeling the front of my towel and grabbing my cock. “Nice!” he said then with his other hand reached around and dropped my towel to the ground. “wow, I didn’t expect that. You are ready to go” he said “I always wear nothing under the towel after a surf so I can shower and get the salt off” I said. “Oh yeah” he said as he turned me around “fuck yeah, that’s a hot tight little ass you have” He dropped his speedo to the ground and he was big. Long a fat and half stiff. “get on your knees” he said and he grabbed the back of my hard and pulled it towards his crutch as he lifted up his cock and said “lick my balls” He was clean shaven. This was the first time I had seen this. I liked it… “fuck yeah that’s it. You’ve done this before you little cock sucker surfie…hahaha” as he laughed. He pulled my hard back, turned around and bent over and said “eat my ass and lick my balls” he reached around and pulled my head into his ass. I licked around the outside of his hole, took little nibbles of his cheek and reached around and started masturbating him. He was moaning and grinding his ass back into my face. My tongue darted in and out of his hole and he was going crazy. “fuckkkkk this is hot” he said as he quickly turned around and stuck his big cock into my mouth. I gagged…”yeah take that surfie boy” I could taste salt. He’d been swimming in the sea and he had pre cum on the outside of his cock. His body was sweaty and he smelt manly, like Jeff. Oh fuck Jeff…I can’t mention this or can I. I heard some twigs crack close by and I glanced up and saw this man looking at me. He had his cock in his hand and was wanking. He slowly moved closer and closer but it took about a minute. He was moving in slow motion trying to figure out if it is okay for him to come over. “Okay” I heard the guy I was sucking say and he gestured the other guy over. Soon he was behind me and he reached down and started rubbing my ass cheeks, squeezing them and saying under his breath “oh yeah…fuck yeah…” It felt great and I lost a little concentration getting into this man playing with my ass. ” Stand up” he said and he guided my hips up so I was standing. “Open your legs wider” he said My head kocaeli sınırsız escort was still on the other guys cock but now my asshole was now pointing right at him and I could feel the cool air between my cheeks so I knew he had a front on view. It made me so horny and I was excited because I wasn’t sure what was going on but I knew I was going to be getting my hole fucked very soon. I sucked harder and my man pushed and guided my head on his cock “oh yeah…fuckin suck that cock” I heard the man behind spit and then I felt his finger enter the crack of my cheek and circle my asshole. I was panting and moaning, this was driving me crazy. I have never had two men on me at the same time and the sensation was wild. I felt his whiskers from his beard over the back of my cheeks and then his tongue licking around my crack. I was squirming and moving. I sucked harder and harder and had saliva dripping out of the sides of my mouth and down my chin. I was so horny and my cock was rock hard and I was going into one of my outer body trances. His head lifted up from behind me and he drove two fingers in me and was fucking and opening my asshole as wide as he could. I wanted his cock or anyone’s cock inside me… it was driving me crazy. Before I know it the guy pulled my head off his cock and said ‘suck his cock’ as he twisted me around to face the other guy. I got straight down on this other man’s cock. It was smaller but still fat and uncut. I pulled his foreskin back as my hand went down his shaft and he pushed my head further onto it. “open’ is all the guy behind said to me and I parted my legs. I felt his hand rub some lube on me then the head of his cock punctured my hole. “ohhh…ouch…slowly…please…ohhhh” is all I could say as he drove his big cock into me. I had lifted my head off the other guys cock and was balancing myself holding his hips for a few seconds as I got used to this big cock driving in and out of my asshole. My heart was pounding and so was the man behind me. He was fucking me deep and fast..”fuck..oh…oh…fuck yeah little surfie…I love…your..ass” he said “i’m going to shoot in your mouth…swallow okay” said the other guy. I gave a “ummm….kaay…” and he pushed my head down and let out a huge moan “ohhhhhhh….suckkkkkk…” as my mouth fill with his huge warm load. He thrust his cock harder and harder into my mouth and his cream was dripping out of the sides “swallow my fuckin load” I pulled off his cock, swallowed, went back on and sucked more and more cum into my mouth. He pulled his cock out and gave me a few slaps on the face with me and turned around and walked to the end of the clearing where two other men had been watching. The man behind me moved my body sideways while be was still inside me and I grabbed the truck of a tree to hold myself up. He gave the other two men a side view of him fucking me and I looked over and they were jerking each other off. With one hand I wiped off some of the cum on my chin and I felt the guy behind me reach around and grab my cock. “you like..me…fucking you…don’t you. you dirty little boy…” “yes” I said. His thumb rolled over the head of my cock and he felt the pre cum “oh let’s get izmit anal yapan escort that juice out” He was pumping my asshole “take it…fuckin take my big cock” he whispered into my ear. I was loving this. I had become a cock addict and there was nothing I could do about it except accept it. The difference between me and those sluts girls at the beach is no one knows I am a slut…yet but I now understand why they are sluts. They love the cock just like me. I was close to cumming as he jerked me off and fucked me at the same time. The two other men were now next to us and one was rubbing my chest and squeezing my nipple. No one has done that before an it shoot a strange electric shock through my body. He pulled my head around and pushed his cock into my mouth. “little slut…that’s what we have here…I love it…suck my cock..baby boy…you know you love it” I was getting it again from both end and the third guy was rubbing his cock over my head and across my face. I came off one cock and onto the other and shocked the guy, he wasn’t expecting that. “woooo…yeeeeaaah nice” I bounced from one to the other sucking them and driving them crazy. The third guy got on his knees and moved under me and started sucking my cock. For the first time I was getting some real attention. I was close already. “I’m cumming” said the guy fucking my ass and he thrust hard into me letting out a huge moan “ohhhhhhhh” he pounded harder and faster, it hurt but I loved it. I could feel his cum running out of my hole and down the back of my legs. I felt relief from his huge cock but only for a few seconds and there was another cock fucking me. This guy was fast. He grabbed my hip and fucked me like a dirty horny dog. My hole body was moving and I came off the other guys cock. It was confusing, I was horny as hell and I wasn’t sure what was happening. The guy who was sucking me moved in behind me and was now fucking me. Without saying anything I had another mouthful of warm creamy cum. He pulled out and shot on my face and in my hair then he pushed it back into my mouth. More and more cum filled my mouth. My body was jarring and moving and cum was dripping off my face and out of my mouth I was close to cumming. I came off the guys cock and said in a wavy voice “now you suck me…please” he looked at me and dropped to his knees and as soon as I put my cock into his mouth I said “I’m close…I’m……yeah..oh fuck..I’m cumming” “me too” said the voice behind me and we came together. I was holding onto the tree again to keep my balance and it was like my eyes rolled back into my head and my whole body shuttered and vibrated. I had just had the strongest orgasm of my life in front of two strange old men as I feel to the ground. The men cleaned themselves up, one tapped my ass “thanks for that, come back soon, we are always here” then he walked off into the thicker wooded area. I just lay on the ground on top of the sand and leaves and I could feel the warm cum running out of my asshole across the cheek of my ass and dripping onto the ground. I had been fucked, fully fucked by four strange men and I was exhausted. My mouth was sticky with cum, my jaw was saw and I was in a trance like state. I felt satisfied and shocked…what had just happened? I picked up my towel wrapped it around myself, got my bag and board and walked back to the beach. I waled to the waters edge dropped my towel and naked I washed away another amazing experience. I was fully addicted…I am a cock addict…I must have more. Scott oho

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Hi everybody! Here’s chapter two. We’re mainly setting the scene here, indicating the way things are going to develop, so there’s not much action. But stick with it; there’ll be plenty of action to come!

All the usual disclaimers still apply. If you’re not supposed to be reading this, you’d better not. And if you don’t like stories about adult men having sex with preteen boys, this is not the page for you.

Thanks to the guys who responded to chapter one. The feedback was most encouraging. But more feedback is always welcome. Please send your comments to ail and I’ll reply as soon as I can.

CHAPTER TWO

September 1959

1-Green’s first maths class occurred on Wednesday morning. After issuing books and scheduling their maths homework, Alex gave the boys another quick pep talk, to set out what he expected of them.

Then they began work. As Michael had expected, Mr Faulkner made everything clear and simple. Once he’d explained things, they moved onto a rapid-fire question and answer session. A forest of hands shot up in response to every question he asked. This was fun!

After around twenty minutes, he gave them an exercise to do. Michael set about it eagerly. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Mr Faulkner was moving around the room, checking what they’d done. At that moment, he was on the far side of the room. As he checked the work of a pretty blond boy, he put his hand on the lad’s shoulder.

The boy seemed not to have noticed, but it struck Michael as strange. As he worked on the exercise, he glanced up occasionally to see what Mr Faulkner was doing. He didn’t see the man put his hand on the shoulder of any other boys. In a way, that seemed even stranger.

Michael looked up again. Mr Faulkner had reached the row next to his. He came to Newton, the slim, long legged boy who sat right across the aisle. It happened again, the maths master placing his hand on Newton’s shoulder as he marked his work.

Michael was puzzled. Then a thought occurred to him. Did Mr Faulkner like boys in the same way that his Uncle Jack did? He became aroused in an instant, his cock straining against his underpants. If he was right, what would happen when Mr Faulkner reached his desk?

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Alex continued to move around the room. He was disappointed. He’d got no reaction at all from either Barnes or Newton. It would have been better if they’d squirmed away or tensed up, telling him that he needed to stop. At least he’d have known where he stood.

As it was, they’d sat there like a couple of dolls, almost as though they hadn’t noticed him putting his hand on their shoulder. One thing seemed certain. They had no idea why he was doing it. He found that strange. All the eleven year olds at his prep school would have known.

He moved to the last line of desks. Third in the line was Whitney. The boy seemed pleased, smiling up at him and moving his book across to have his work marked. Alex would have liked to give him the hand on shoulder treatment, but he couldn’t.

The problem was that he was right handed. With Barnes and Newton, he’d stood to their right, reaching across to mark their work, his left hand perfectly positioned to be placed on their left shoulder. But with Whitney’s desk being against the wall, he was on the wrong side.

He moved in as close as he could, his right arm brushing against Whitney’s left shoulder. He glanced down, hoping to see whether the boy had an erection, but the desk and the boy’s school blazer obscured his view. It was frustrating. There was a strong hint of a positive reaction, but that was all.

“Very good!” he said approvingly.

“Thanks, sir!” Whitney responded, giving him another beautiful smile.

Alex gave the boy a quick pat on the shoulder and moved on.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

For mathematics, the fourth years were split into five groups rather than four, with a top group of thirty, taught by Neil Fleming, and four other groups of twenty four or twenty five. Alex’s group lined up outside his classroom door.

“Listen carefully,” Alex said, bringing them to order. “You may sit where you like. Now go in quietly and sit down.”

They quickly settled in. Alex looked them over. He noted that he’d met several of them in the previous afternoon’s games class. Football captain Etheridge was sitting in the middle of the back row, flanked by what appeared to be his little gang.

“Right!” Alex said decisively. “I know that the back row is where the naughty boys sit, so those of you who have chosen to sit there will now move and sit somewhere else. There are thirty two desks and only twenty five of you, so there’s plenty of room.”

Etheridge and his friends picked up their bags and moved reluctantly to different seats. They’d been had and they knew it. Not only would they not be able to sit together, they’d have to sit much nearer to the front than any of them would have liked.

“These, gentlemen, are now your places,” Alex intoned. “Unless I tell you otherwise, every time you are in this room, you will sit where you are now.”

Satisfied that he’d put down a marker, he completed the seating plan and went through the other preliminaries. After ten minutes, the lesson began. Most of the boys seemed keen, he noticed, eager to learn, apart from Etheridge and his friends, who were barely going through the motions.

They would have to be dealt with. They hadn’t put their heads above the parapet yet, but left to their own devices, they soon would. He needed to head off the rebellion before it got going. It was clear that Etheridge was the key player. He needed to get the lad back on the rails.

If he could do that, the other boys would follow. There was no point in being negative about it, he reasoned. The boy was probably used to being lectured. Instead, he’d talk to him after football training, try to draw him in. If he put his mind to it, he could get Etheridge on his side.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It was Thursday morning. Alex had just had his second class with 3-Blue. He was seriously concerned. Not only were they well behind where they should have been, most of them seemed lethargic and reluctant to work. They were far worse than any of his other classes.

At break he headed to the staffroom to join his colleagues. Neil Fleming was making himself a cup of coffee.

“Neil,” Alex asked. “Could I have a word please?”

“Certainly,” Neil responded, guiding him towards the chairs. “What’s the problem?”

“I need to ask you about 3-Blue,” Alex said. “I’ve taken them twice now. They’re way behind where they ought to be. And they don’t seem to have to vaguest idea about how to work.”

“Actually, I was going to speak to you about them,” escort kocaeli Neil said, “but I wanted you to meet them first so that you could make your own assessment. The situation’s a mess. Last year, the Head decided we should teach the fourth and fifth years in five groups instead of four. I was all for it, but it meant that we had to have one class taught by someone from outside the department. He gave us Bert Crossley. He was a general subjects’ teacher. He’d taught a number of junior maths classes over the years, and he’d always done a decent job.

This time, I sensed he was struggling. Then, just when I was thinking it couldn’t get any worse, he had a heart attack. We got in a temporary teacher, but he just wasn’t up to it. He bored the pants off the lads and never got enough work out of them. As soon as the exam classes had finished, I took the class myself, so I know how poor they are. I was going to take them this year too, but the Head suggested that I should give them to you. He said that in interview you’d talked passionately about making sure kids didn’t get left behind.”

“Oh, I see,” Alex said.

“Well, you already know you’ve got a tough job,” Neil continued. “That’s a start. Be as firm as you like. Do whatever you need to do. I’ll back you one hundred per cent.”

“Thanks for putting me in the picture,” Alex said.

Do whatever he needed to do, Neil had told him. To get 3-Blue up to standard was going to require a great deal of extra work. But in the circumstances, he didn’t have a choice.

Alex knew he was putting much more effort into his teaching than even other good teachers customarily do. He needed the protection that would flow from a certain status – or more precisely statuses. First, he needed to become known by his colleagues as someone who achieved outstanding results that brought credit to the school and further enhanced its reputation. In addition, he needed to become known by the boys as a pleasant, likeable and effective teacher who would do his best for them and support them when things got tough.

With those reputations, if he ever did anything that might be slightly questionable, people would think very carefully before casting the first stone. No member of the senior management team would want to lose his services. No boy would want to experience the fury of his peers for having blown the whistle on their favourite teacher. But first he had to achieve those reputations, and that would require a great deal of work.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Under-15 football training had just finished. It had gone better than Alex had expected. There were certainly some good players in the squad, Archer especially, and they were as keen as mustard.

He’d noticed one other thing too. Wilson, who was one of the better players, was also one of Etheridge’s gang from their maths class. He called Etheridge over to him, leaving the other boys to make their way back to the changing room.

“I understand that you’re team captain,” he said, smiling.

“Yes sir,” Etheridge confirmed.

“When you’ve got changed, could you to stay behind for a few minutes? I’d like to have a chat about how we’re going to make the team the best it can be. Oh, and could you tell Wilson that I’d like him to stay too?”

“Yes, sir,” Etheridge repeated.

A few minutes later all the other boys had gone, leaving Alex with Etheridge and Wilson. He sat on one of the benches.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” he said brightly, indicating the bench opposite.

Etheridge and Wilson sat down. Over the next ten minutes, they discussed the team’s strengths and weaknesses, the training they needed to do in order to improve, and what tactics they ought to play. Etheridge and Wilson were in their element. It wasn’t just that they were talking about football. Mr Faulkner wasn’t lecturing them or telling them what to do. He was asking for their opinions and listening to what they had to say.

“Well, I think that’s given us plenty to work on,” Alex said, bringing the discussion to an end.

“Yes sir!” the boys chorused.

“Just before you go, there is one other thing I want to talk to you about,” Alex said quietly. “Not only are you boys key members of my football team, you are also in my maths class. Now I hope you”re not thinking that because you’re in the football team, I’ll let you get away with poor behaviour or shoddy work. That is not going to happen. Teachers who allow that sort of thing lose all respect. I expect members of my team to set an example, the team captain especially. It’s really important that you do that. You’re both intelligent lads. I’m sure you understand why.”

“Yes, sir,” Etheridge confirmed.

“Yes, sir,” Wilson echoed.

“Okay,” Alex said, smiling. “I’ll let you get off.”

He watched as the boys made their way out. The job wasn’t finished, not by any means. Etheridge in particular would need lots of help and support. But he’d made a start, and it could hardly have gone better.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The boys of 3-Blue trooped into Alex’s classroom.

“Put your pens and pencils down and listen,” he said, looking around the room.

“I’ve been talking to Mr Fleming about this class, so I now know why you are so far behind where you ought to be, and why most of you have no idea how to work properly. Now what happened last year was very unfortunate, but I’ve been given the task of putting things right, and that’s what I’m going to do. It will mean that all of us, including me, will have to do extra work. No ifs, no buts; that is what is going to happen. You are better than this. Be in no doubt, by the end of the school year, this class will be as good or better than any other of the other third year classes.

And let me repeat what I told you right at the beginning. I expect you to do each and every piece of work that I set you to the very best of your ability. I’m not going to settle for anything less, and neither will you. If you’re struggling with the work I give you, come and see me and we’ll arrange to sort it out. In addition, each Tuesday and Thursday lunchtime, I will see a small group of you for some extra teaching. And one final reminder; the homework I set you is compulsory. You will do it. You will do it all, and you will do it properly. Anyone who doesn’t will do it again in detention. Now are there any questions?”

“If you ask to see us for one of these lunchtime classes, do we have to come?”

“Yes, of course you do.”

“Will it always be the same people?”

“No. I will be concentrating on those of you that need the most help, but I plan to see all of you at least once.”

“Why do we have to do it, sir? It wasn’t our fault.”

“Whose fault it was is neither here nor there. The fact is you’re behind kocaeli anal yapan escort where you should be and your working habits aren’t good enough. We are going to put that right. Okay, it’s time to get some work done.”

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Alex’s other classes were a joy to work with, 2-Red especially. Lively and enthusiastic, they were everything 3-Blue wasn’t. As a bonus it contained a good number of good looking boys, many still wearing shorts.

Ferris and Mitchell were especially beautiful. He’d given them both the hand on shoulder treatment. Mitchell had been as unresponsive as Barnes or Newton, but he’d obtained a tentative reaction from Ferris, who seemed to like the attention. He’d work on that when he had a chance.

He’d given first year boy Whitney some more attention too, which the boy definitely seemed to like. The problem was that without making it far too obvious, he couldn’t get close enough to be certain how interested the lad was.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

“I meant to ask,” Neil Fleming said. “How are you getting on with the fourth years?”

“Oh, they’re a good group,” Alex replied confidently. “Jones and Chandler are idiots, but they won’t be a problem.”

“Spoilt brats, the pair of them,” Neil agreed. “What about Etheridge?”

“I coach the under-15 football team,” Alex replied, smiling. “Etheridge is captain. He and his friend Wilson will be fine. After training, I told them that I expect members of my team to set an example. I think they understood.”

“Well, let’s hope so,” Neil responded. “Actually, Etheridge is very bright. When he did the entrance exam, he scored 137 on the IQ test. He ought to be in the top set, but last year his work and his attitude went downhill. Maybe you can get him back on the straight and narrow.”

Alex nodded but didn’t reply. He’d said enough already.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Alex picked up the receiver and dialled.

“Frecklingham 7328,” a man’s voice answered.

“Good evening Gordon,” Alex said politely. “It’s Alex Faulkner.”

“Ah, good to hear from you,” Gordon Millward responded. “So how are things in suburbia?”

“Not bad,” Alex said. “I’m working in a very good school.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt about that,” Gordon said, “but have you found any interesting prospects?”

“It’s hard to say,” Alex answered. “I’m teaching some beautiful boys. I haven’t been able to determine whether any of them is interested. I’ve tried putting my hand on their shoulder. I got a half-cocked reaction from one of the second year boys. That was it. The others don’t seem to have a clue. I hadn’t expected that. We all knew about it well before we were that age.”

“The sons of the upper classes are sent away to boarding schools,” Gordon observed, “closed communities where younger boys learn about sex from the older ones. At the other end of the scale, the working class poor learn about it out on the street. The boys you’re teaching don’t fall into either category. By and large they have dutiful parents, who dedicate their lives to looking after them. They’re probably the most carefully nurtured generation in history. One aspect of this is that their parents keep them ignorant of sex for as long as possible. That’s what you’re up against.”

“That’s certainly what it looks like,” Alex agreed. “There is another boy in my first year class that I think might be interested, Whitney, but I haven’t been able to get close enough to be sure.”

“So why’s that?”

“His desk is against the wall. When I’m looking at his exercise book, I’m have to stand to his left. I can’t mark his work with my left hand. That would be far too obvious.”

“Oh, I see,” Gordon mused. “Couldn’t you move him?”

“I could,” Alex answered. “But I’d need a reason to do it, or the other boys might think it was a bit odd. Whitney’s very well behaved. He’s not going to give me a reason to move him. And if one of the other boys was misbehaving, I wouldn’t move him to where Whitney sits.”

“It sounds like you need to get him on his own.”

“Yes,” Alex concurred. “I’ll have to work on that. But it’s the same problem again. I’ll need a reason to ask to see him. I haven’t established myself here yet. I can’t risk asking him for no reason.”

“No, you don’t want to ruin everything by rushing things,” Gordon advised. “You’ll have to be patient. I’m glad I’m not in that position. I can see individual boys whenever I want. And I know that the boy I intend to approach will be interested long before I actually do it. Well, let me know how you get on!”

“Yes, I’ll do that,” Alex said, “and thanks for the advice.”

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

“Hi, Uncle Jack” Michael said as he strolled into the flat.

“So how’s your week been?” Jack asked as they flopped down on the sofa.

“Not bad, thanks” Michael answered. “Two of the masters we’ve got are old codgers, but most of them seem okay. And Mr Faulkner, our form master’s super. He teaches us maths. He’s the best teacher I’ve ever had. He makes everything seem so easy. And guess what?”

“Tell me,” Jack instructed.

“I think he likes boys.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“At the start of each lesson, he teaches us for a bit, doing stuff on the blackboard and asking lots of questions. Then he gives us an exercise to do. While we’re working, he comes round the room to check what we’re doing. Well, there are these two boys. He always puts his hand on their shoulder while he’s marking their work. He doesn’t do that with anyone else.”

“Hmmm, interesting. So what’s special about these two?”

“Well, they’re sort of nice looking. I know you’d like them.”

“And what about you? Don’t you like them?”

“Not Barnes. He’s only small and he’s got a tiny cock. I saw him in the showers after our gym class. Newton’s okay, but even his cock’s not very big. He wouldn’t be able to fuck me like you do.”

“I take it Mr Faulkner hasn’t tried anything with you?”

“No. I think he might have, but my desk’s by the wall. He stands as close as he can, but he’s sort of on the wrong side.”

“Right! So how old is Mr Faulkner?”

“Quite young, I think, younger than you, probably. A couple of the boys in our form have brothers further up the school. They say he’s new.”

“Oh, I see,” Jack answered thoughtfully. “Well, are you ready?”

“When have I ever not been ready?” Michael responded, fondling his crotch.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It was coming up to Monday lunchtime. Another fourth year maths class was drawing to a close. Alex had been pleased to note that since he’d spoken to them the previous week, Etheridge and Wilson had been as good as gold. But there was still a problem. Etheridge’s homework wasn’t up to standard. Alex took the chair from izmit yabancı escort his store room and placed it next to his own. Moments later, the bell sounded.

“Right, put your things away,” he instructed, “and quietly make your way out. Etheridge, will you stay behind please. I need a word.”

As the other boys made their way out, Etheridge came up to Alex’s desk.

“Sit down,” Alex said quietly.

“Your homework wasn’t good enough,” Alex continued, looking at him intently. “You didn’t finish it and what you had done was very sloppy. You know that, don’t you?”

“Sir,” Etheridge acknowledged.

“It’s really not the sort of example I need you to set,” Alex went on. “Are there any reasons why you did it so poorly? Don’t tell me that it’s the best you could do, because I know it isn’t.”

“It’s hard, sir,” Etheridge explained, looking very uncomfortable. “My younger brother and sister were running around while I was trying to do it. I couldn’t concentrate.”

“So when you’re at home, don’t you have anywhere quiet where you can work?”

“No sir.”

Alex thought that this didn’t fit very well with him having supportive parents, but he let it pass.

“Well, I’ve a couple of suggestions,” he said. “First of all, on Tuesday and Thursday lunchtimes, I’ll be here working with some third year boys. You’re welcome to sit at the back and get some of your homework done. I’d definitely like you to do that on Thursdays so you can save your energy for football training. Second, when you go home, do you go through the town centre?”

“Yes sir,” Etheridge acknowledged.

“Then you could try working in the library,” Alex suggested. “They’re open till six.”

“Sir,” Etheridge acknowledged, looking less than enthusiastic.

“Have you any ideas yet about what you want to do after you’ve done your O-levels?” Alex probed.

“I want to get an apprenticeship in a pattern shop,” Etheridge told him. “My uncle’s a pattern maker. It’s a really interesting job and he earns very good money.”

“Fair enough,” Alex said. “So in a year or so, you’ll be applying for jobs?”

“Yes, sir,”

“And when you do, the firms you’ve applied to will ask the school for a reference,” Alex went on. “Now, if you put the work in, you’ll get a glowing reference. But that means working in class and getting this homework problem sorted out. If you can’t do it at home, find somewhere else. I’ve given you a couple of suggestions. Remember, you’re a young adult now, so you need to start taking responsibility. And if I can be of any more help, please come and ask.”

“Sir,” Etheridge acknowledged.

“Okay,” Alex said, smiling. “Off you go!”

He sat back in his chair, watching Etheridge make his way out. He’d done the best he could. He’d just have to wait to see if it’d made a difference.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It was Tuesday morning break. Alex had just dismissed 3-Blue, having summoned four of the weakest boys to report back at lunchtime. They hadn’t been happy about it, but he wasn’t concerned about that. They’d soon get used to it. He was just about to head to the staffroom when Etheridge appeared.

“Sir,” he asked. “You know you said about working in here at lunchtimes? Does it have to be maths?”

“No, you can do whatever homework you’ve got.”

“Would it be okay if Wilson came too?” Etheridge continued.

“I don’t see why not,” Alex answered. “As long as you don’t sit together and just get on with your work.”

“Sir!” Etheridge acknowledged.

“If you’re definitely going to come,” Alex said. “I’ll give you passes so that you can go straight into lunch. Then you can come here for ten past one.”

“Thanks, sir!” Etheridge said, smiling.

Alex wrote out two lunch passes and handed them over.

“I’ll see you here at ten past one,” he said.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

As soon as he had finished eating his lunch, Alex made his way back to his classroom. A few minutes later Etheridge and Wilson appeared, quickly followed by the four third year boys. The two fourth years sat well apart near the back of the room, while Alex began working with the younger boys.

He began by revising some algebra that they should have mastered the previous year. With such a small group, he was able to make an impression quite quickly. By the time the session ended, they were all performing quite competently. After congratulating them on the progress they’d made, he let them go. Etheridge and Wilson were still working. Alex had almost forgotten they were there.

“Right, lads!” he said brightly. “You’d better get over to the pavilion.”

They began to pack their things away.

“So what persuaded you to give up your lunch break?” Alex asked, addressing himself to Wilson.

“I thought if Phil was going to be here, I might as well,” Wilson replied. “I mean, we’ll be playing football all afternoon, won’t we?”

“Fair enough!” Alex agreed.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The fourth year games class seemed to fly past. Alex’s group spent forty minutes on skills practice before playing a game. It went well, better than he’d expected. If the boys realised that most of what he knew came from studying coaching manuals, they certainly hadn’t shown it.

With the class at an end, he followed the boys into the changing room. Most fourteen year olds would not have interested him. Jonathan Archer was an exception. Standing only 5’3”, he was small for his age, and with his cute, boyish face, bright blue eyes and neatly trimmed blond curls, he looked no more than thirteen.

While trying not to make it too obvious, Alex watched him strip off his football kit. Unaware of Mr Faulkner’s attention, Archer stood up, showing off his smooth, beautifully proportioned body. With a medium size uncut cock, balls to match, and a neat little crop of golden pubes, he was beautiful. Instinctively, Alex licked his lips. He couldn’t help it.

Archer turned and headed towards the showers. Alex felt himself getting hard. The boy had as perfect a bottom as he’d ever seen. He’d be a wonderful fuck. But he wouldn’t pursue the lad, not for the moment at least. Archer hadn’t given the slightest sign that he’d be interested. It was like Gordon Millward had told him. He needed to get to know the boy before making a move.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Alex sat down to mark his fourth year group’s homework. Around halfway through, he came to Etheridge’s book. He opened it with some trepidation, not sure what he was going to find. He turned to the page. There it was, all there, all correct and neatly presented.

“Yes!” he exhaled.

It was relief more than anything. He’d staked a great deal on getting a positive response. For Etheridge to have produced another poor piece of work would have been a major setback.

The next book in the pile was Wilson’s. His homework was equally good. Alex quickly reminded himself not to get complacent. For the moment, he’d managed to get these two would-be bad boys back in line. The challenge now was to keep them there.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

                                                    A Diplomatic Affair

                                                                   Or

                 The Trials and Tribulations of One who Serves The Crown

                                                A tale by Ivor Sukwell

 

Chapter the Tenth

 

Fortune was indeed Smiling upon him, was the Thought of Sir Henry as he Perused a Letter from the King. Not only did it Contain the Information that he was Forgiven for his Part in that Discovered Plot, but also that his Period of Exile from the Court was at an End and that he was Commanded to Present himself at Court in One Month”s Time, and to Take with him there the Son of that Unfortunate Ambassador of Spain who he had, as his Christian Duty, Taken as Ward to Protect him from further Misfortune. That Boy, the King Declared, was to be Presented and made Welcome to the Court and to Society.

Also was there a Postscript, and in the King”s own Hand, that Sir Henry”s Wife was a most Amenable Mistress and that the King had some Expectation that the Boy was proving to be an equally Amenable Ward.

Sir Henry”s Affection for Boys was not Unknown to his Monarch, nor did that Worthy Ruler Entertain Dislike of that, it being to his Royal Mind Evidence Indisputable that Sir Henry was not, in Secret, of any Puritan Inclination, as indeed he most Assuredly was not.

Pleasing as it was to Sir Henry to Learn that his Exile was soon to be Concluded, more Pleasing yet was that he were Instructed to Present the Desirable Carlos at Court as that Instruction may Present him with the Opportunity of Commencing some Assault upon the Boy, as his Faithful Servant, James, made constant Insistence that he should.

Accordingly, Sir Henry Betook himself at Once to his Gardens in Search of the Industrious Boy who was at Work there, and Discovered that the Boy was indeed Industrious, attending to the Menial task before him of Removing Weed from a patch of Ground.

Sir Henry had Declared that if the Refined Carlos had Wish to Learn of Matters Horticultural, then this he must do by Commencing such Education by Manual Labour and not by Mere Observation; that he must Know what it were to turn a Sod of Earth and remove from it Unwanted Growth, and leave that Earth all Flat and Fine.

It could not be said other than that the Determined Carlos Applied himself with Dedication to the Task. Sir Henry, upon his Observation of the Labouring Boy, Paused in his Approach to Watch the Work, though if this were to make satisfaction that the Labour was done with due Attention or to make Observation of the Lithe and Slender Form of the Boy who Performed it, for Carlos had, as all the Other Boys, made Discard of his Shirt and Weeded in but his Breeches, his Upper Body Exposed Entire to View.

This were more of the Flesh of that Desirable Boy that Sir Henry had ever Opportunity to See, and Perhaps it were that the Knight Looked more upon that Flesh than on the Work done. However that may be, it could not be Doubted that when he Approached for Words he made Notice of Each and Every drop of Moisture on the Chest and Back of the Delectable Carlos, the Weather being Warm the Natural Excretions of Moisture from the Skin made that light Copper Glisten as though it had been oiled.

Sir Henry felt no Obligation then to Remove his Eyes from Observation of the Boy, for at labour as he were, Arousing Carlos were not as a Boy of Birth but as a Boy of the Country, and upon such Boys Sir Henry did much Permit himself to Gaze, and Gaze he did and Filled his Eyes ataköy escort with the Sight before him.

It was not to Gaze but to Impart Information that Sir Henry had Sought Delightful Carlos in the Garden, and this he did, Informing the Perspiring Boy, that, his Labour Completed, he should Present himself to Sir Henry even before he took himself to Bathe.

This the Obedient Boy did, though he had some Wonder at the Request, and Presented himself with no Delay, though may be from some Attack of Modesty, he took Care to don again his Shirt before he did so.

“There are Matters of Great Import I must Discuss with you,” Sir Henry said in French, “And those I would do as we are at Dinner. And, for this Occasion, I would have you Dress and not as a Country Boy, but as the Boy you are, One of Birth.

“Do” ee not be liking I as a country boy?” Carlos asked, his eyes twinkling, and this he said most deliberately in Wiltshire and not in French.

“I do Believe you Make a most Admirable Country Boy,” Sir Henry Discovered himself Making Compliment, “But your Nature and Charm is better Displayed when you Dress as for Society, and for the Talk we must Have, I would be much Obliged if you did Present yourself as such for Dinner.”

Could it be, Carlos Wondered to Himself, that at the Last Sir Henry were making some Attempt to Woo? If that were so, then must he be Encouraged in his Efforts, and Scheming Carlos Bathed himself with Utmost Care, made Discovery in his Possessions of a most Delicate Perfume, and Anointed Himself with Such, and after Great Consideration and Deliberation, made Decision that shades of Blue, from the Palest of when the Sky were still a little before the Rising of the Sun to the Blue it were when the Sun were at its Height.

His fancy that he should Appear as a Boy of the Sky he made Plain by choosing for the Fine Lace of his Neck, one of the Palest of Pinks, that it should Seem as the First touch of Dawn, and for his Breeches, the Tightest he could Find for his Legs, a deeper Blue as of the Sky in the east when the Sun does Set in the West. His Stockings were of a Deeper Blue yet, and on his Feet, Shoes of Black, the Buckles Silver, and Spangled Like as they were Stars.

No Undergarment would he Wear; Carlos had Full Knowledge now that the Part between his Slender Thighs was a Cock and also Full Understanding of the Uses to be Made of that, and why it was that the Eyes of Men Looked to that Place as Often as they did to his Face. Sir Henry, he Knew, Entertained an Uncommon great Liking for the Cocks of Boys, and for that Never had he set Eyes upon the Cock of Carlos, his Desire to do so was Great Indeed.

Sir Henry would not Set Eyes upon it this Night either, but Carlos was of Intent that it should be made as plain as Manners and Propriety Permitted that he Possessed a Cock, and though not the Thing itself, the Shape and Dimension would be most Evident.

The Breeches were indeed Exceeding Tight upon his Body, Created as they had been some Months Previous, and it would have to be Doubted if Indeed, Undergarment would have been Possible to have Beneath them, so Closely did they Cling to his Skin, but when he had, with some small Struggle, Arranged his Cock so it Lay along his Left Thigh, he was most Delighted with the Outcome.

His Coat upon him he Gazed into the Mirror and was most Pleased with what he Viewed. The Weather being Warm he eschewed a Small Coat, a thing not Proper for Formal Dress, but as he was still a Boy such a peccadillo would Draw no Disapproval, such Liberties Permitted merter escort to Boys, and thus the Darker Blue of his Coat Proper sat most Wonderfully above that Pale Dawn Sky of his Shirt, the Points of the Coat Directing the Eye of any who Saw him to the Unmistakable Evidence that he were a Boy.

Attired thus and with the Hope he may raise Desire in Sir Henry Sufficient for him to be Courted, he did Present himself for Dinner.

Desire he did Indeed raise in Sir Henry, and more than Mere Desire also, for at the simple Sight of the Alluring Boy Attired thus, Sir Henry Grew most Hard within the Confines of his Breeches and Made Determination then that he must Woo this Boy and Win him to his Bed.

Sir Henry was not alone in Making Notice that Delightful Carlos was Plainly in Possession of a Cock, the Four Boys who Served Sir Henry in the Manner of Flunkeys and of Footmen and who were now Present to be Waiters and Severs for Dinner also Noticed in an Instant that Carlos was in Display of his most Valuable Part as Plain as it could be without it being Uncovered, and Secret Winks and Grins did Carlos get from those Boys who Knew also the Value of their Cocks and the Use to which they were often Put.

Carlos had no Knowledge of those Four Cocks, having no Opportunity to Engage in Play with the Boys of the House, but now the Features and Form of one amongst them Attracted his Attention most Particularly, his Tousled fair Hair and Sparkling Blue Eyes allied with the Slenderness of his Form and his Age Appearing to be perhaps a year less than that of Carlos, were Sufficient in Themselves to Pique the Interest of a Boy who had Discovered himself to be in Possession of a Cock and also to have some great Interest in the Cocks of other Boys.

Not that Alone, but also did that Serving Boy Grin at Carlos in a Manner as Lewd as any Boy may Grin, that Interested Carlos was in no Doubt but that the Boy had some full Comprehension of the Sport that may be had with another who makes no Pretence that he has no Knowledge of Cock.

On a whim, the Cunning Carlos Played to the Full the Part of a Boy of Birth, and with Appearance of Angelic Innocence, and Noting the Approving and Desirous Look Sir Henry Bestowed upon his Dress, he remarked how Difficult it were to Attire himself thus Unaided by another, and Could it be, should this be the Manner in which Sir Henry did in Future wish him to be Clothed for Dinner, he may have one of these Serving Boys for his Personal Attendant?

Delighted that the Delectable Carlos should Return so Amenably to the Behaviour of a Boy of Birth, Sir Henry Agreed upon the Instant, and when Sir Henry”s Eyes were Engaged upon not his Face but on a Different Place Entire, Carlos Raised his Eyebrow in Question to that Fair-Haired Boy and Received in Return a Grin that was of the Lewdest Dimension yet, and Carlos was most Content that not Again would he be Obliged to Sleep Alone.

“It Pleases me Greatly that you do Appear once more as a Boy of Birth,” Sir Henry Smiled upon now Demure Carlos, “I Understand most Fully that you must be as a Country Boy whilst you Labour in the Gardens, and it Delights me that you be so Willing to Learn the Arts of a Garden in Truth indeed from the Ground Upwards, but your Charm and Nature is Best Displayed when you are Attired as now you are. A Most Welcome Addition you will be to any Society.”

“Oh, Sir, you do but Flatter me most Extravagantly,” the Scheming Carlos Contrived a Suitable Blush, “This Poor Attire is some Months Ancient and must be Nothing Like the bahçeşehir escort Present Fashion.”

“I do Declare,” A Slightly Emboldened Sir Henry said, “That Should you but make One Single Appearance in Society Attired so, such Manner of Dress would become that Latest fashion upon the Instant.”

“Sir,” Carlos Contrived a Deeper Blush, “Such Remark is Sure Almost beyond the Bound of Propriety.”

“I Care not that it May be So,” Sir Henry Partook of a Draught of Sack from his Tumbler to Fortify his Determination, “I will make no Denial that you Delight my Eye and all Heads will Turn Toward you in any Society you Grace with your Presence.”

“Lo, Sir,” Carlos Sighed, “I Fear that will Never be, your Association with my Misfortunate Father Banishing you from all Such, and my being now your Ward, Banishing me also.”

“Not So!” a Triumphant Sir Henry Declared, and Brought Forth the Letter he had Received, “This is the Reason for Our Discourse this Night. I Pray you, Discover for yourself its Content.”

“Why, Sir,” Delightful Carlos Exclaimed when he had Perused that Letter, “You are to be Received again at Court, and I also you are Commanded to Present there, but, Sir,” the Cunning Boy continued with Display of Innocence, “I Fear I do Misconceive the Postscript. Does it not Appear to say your King has some Belief that I be to you More of a Mistress than a Ward? How, Sir, may this be so?”

Sir Henry was Obliged to Partake of more Sack before he Ventured a Reply, but Reply he must and so he Did.

“I Fear, Carlos, that I must Discover myself to you, and Declare I Have no Interest in any Mistress, nor Will I ever Have. It is to Boys and Boys Alone that my Interests do most Strongly Incline.”

At this Carlos felt it to be Convenient to Smile in a most Disarming Manner, and so he Did.

“Lo, Sir,” he said, his Eyes twinkling as Bright as the Silver Stars on his Shoes, “This is no Discovery to me. Here you Surround yourself with None but Boys.”

“I do,” Sir Henry Confessed, “And Much Attraction do they all Have for me. But you Have Attraction more than Any.”

“Pish, sir,” Carlos Declared, “That you have Desire for me I am most Aware, and have been so Since that Moment we were Introduced. I See the way you Look upon me, sir, and I Believe I know well Enough what such Looks do Mean.”

“But does this not Displease you Greatly?” a Surprised Sir Henry Questioned; he had not been Aware that his Looks had been so Acutely Observed.

“Were that so, sir, would I have Given my Consent to live under the same Roof as you? Would I have Accepted so Willingly your kind Offer to be my Guardian? I have no Misliking of your Desire, Sir, but I must make Question of you of your Intent to me. Is it, sir, that you Would Follow what may be Almost a Command from your King that you would have me as your Mistress?”

“Not so!” Sir Henry Proclaimed and did most Visibly Shudder in Distaste at such a Thought, “I would have no Mistress, nor any Boy as Such, but only a Boy as a Boy and no Pretence he do be any Other.”

“As some Companion then,” Carlos made Suggestion. “A Boy who may Accompany you when in Society, Share Converse with you at Dinner and Permit you to his Bed on Occasion?”

Sir Henry found that even more Sack did not Permit him to make Words, so instead he gave Nod of his Head.

“Then Permit me to make Consideration of this Request, and on the Morrow, at Dinner will I give you my Reply. But soon, sir, I must Perforce Retire me to my Bed, for Labour in the Garden must I in the Morn. So, Sir, may I Make Request for,” Carlos made Pretence of casting his Eyes over the Four Serving Boys, though both the Required Boy and Carlos both, knew who it were that would be Chosen, “That Fair-Haired Boy to be of Assist to me. He does Possess Fingers deft enough to deal with the Laces of my Attire.”

 

[email protected]

 

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Subject: Queen Mary Bell Boys Chapter 124 Queen Mary Bell-boys by badboi666 =============================================================================== If sex with boys isn’t your thing, go away. If, as is much more likely, you’ve come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about sex with 14-year-olds then make yourself comfortable – you’re in the right place. Don’t leave, however, without doing this: Donate to Nifty – these buggers may do it for love but they still have to eat. fty/donate.html =============================================================================== Chapter 124 Tim looked at me. I smiled and nodded. He started to fuck Felix very slowly, coming almost all the way out and driving all the way back in. It was important not to cause the boy to move too much as my cock was in his mouth, and at dental risk. In the last several days Felix had mastered the art, however, and even when Tim’s inward plunge forced him an inch or two forward he still kept his lips over his teeth. When we were spit-roasting Tim and I tried to make sure that the first cum was in whoever-it-was’s mouth: that way the person fucking could go hell for leather without his partner’s cock being bitten off. So I let Felix suck away for a few minutes before deciding that the best thing would be to wank myself pretty close – say 20 seconds or so – stick my cock back in his mouth and gently fuck. When Tim saw me pull back and start vigorously wanking he knew what I was up to. He kept up his rhythm, accelerating slowly. I knew that when Felix took my cock in his mouth again Tim would try to shoot about two minutes later – time for Felix to get the benefit of my load, and for me to have my cock sucked dry before Tim filled his arse. Put like that it all sounds very mechanical and unerotic, but believe me, Felix was a highly-charged 13-year-old boy whose balls were on fire, and I knew that when Tim reached round to grasp his cock it wouldn’t take many strokes for it to jizz. I got myself close and pushed my throbbing cock between Felix’s lips. His tongue swirled greedily over my glans, my nerves signalling urgently, my brain telling my balls to deliver, my cum rushing up the length of my cock out into his waiting mouth where his tongue revelled in the hot tangy sensation of spunk as jet after jet washed the inside of his mouth. I held his head, caressing him and stroking his hair. “You are one sexy kid, Felix,” I said. “Mmm.” At the other end Tim was now in full cry, both with his cock and his right hand. Which of them would come first, I wondered as my cock softened and slipped from Felix’s lips. I felt him swallow. I went on stroking his hair and murmuring about how much I loved coming in his mouth. “Mmm.” Then suddenly Tim was there, groaning as he pumped into Felix’s hot wet arse. He kept on wanking and ten seconds later, while Tim was still pumping, Felix gave a great groan as jizz flew out of his cock onto the bed, five strong squirts. The downside of spit-roasting someone is that his cum is wasted. Still, the best was yet to come. Felix leaned forward and took my wilted cock back into his mouth. “That’s nice,” I murmured. He still had two Mulloy cocks where he wanted them, and both Mulloys were content to leave them there, at least until they had finished on the other bed and Phase II could begin in the shower. Tim, as ever, took the lead. “I need a piss,” he said. “Why not get a beer before? There’s orange for these two,” I said, pointing at Felix and Tom, “they’ve certainly earned a refill.” “What d’you mean, a refill?” said Felix, “if Tom’s as full as I am then there isn’t any room.” “Ah,” said Tim, “but your arses and your stomachs may be full, but Patrick was talking about refilling your bladders. Come on,” and without giving them any choice he led them off to Cabin 3 where the drinks were. Tim and I opened a beer each and put a bottle of juice into each boy’s hand. “Drink up,” I said, “and as soon as these are down I need a piss.” I gave Nigel a meaningful look, hoping that he would remember to keep Tom back for the agreed two minutes after Tim and I had disappeared with Felix. Felix was happy to empty his bottle quickly, so the three of us went to the shower. As soon as we were in there Tim and I got in position, and within five seconds he was pissing on my chest. Five seconds after that he was pissing in my mouth, my lips round his cock. Five seconds after that he made a huge effort and stopped pissing. I stood up and kissed him. “Tasty as always,” I said quietly. We looked at Felix: how ataköy escort had he reacted to what he’d just seen? His expression was one of amazement. “Well?” said Tim, “are you joining us?” Felix said he didn’t know where to start. At first he couldn’t believe what he was seeing; then when I knelt and he saw me drinking – drinking! – piss he was disgusted; then, about five seconds later when he noticed how his cock had interpreted what was going on he discovered that he wasn’t disgusted at all, but very very interested. Tim repeated his question, and Felix lapsed into behaviour I thought we’d cured him of at least a fortnight ago. “Can I?” To his credit he remembered at once, and answered his own question. “You bet I can. What do I do?” “You come and stand close to us, and you piss, Felix,” said Tim. “It isn’t difficult. We each love being pissed on, and we each love drinking – it’s called ‘from the tap’, and you can work out why. Unless you object we’re going to do the same to you.” By this time Felix and we were close and I had started to piss on him. I deliberately aimed a strong stream, foreskin retracted for maximum oomph, at his cock. His cock went from being half hard to all the way in a few seconds. “You can rub it if you want,” said Tim. Felix wasn’t sure how to interpret ‘it’, but he rubbed his cock with one hand while aiming his cock at me. Naturally it took him quite a while before his brain unlocked his bladder in the new circumstances in which it found itself, but he started to piss on me before I’d finished. Tim hadn’t restarted, keeping plenty for when Felix was finished. “Don’t forget me,” he said, and Felix whipped round to piss on Tim’s chest at exactly the moment that Tom came bounding in with Nigel and Graham immediately behind him. “Oh fuck, Felix, that’s disgusting!” he cried. Felix turned to look at him, his cock still hosing Tim. “You are so wrong, Tom. That’s what I thought at first, but not any more. Come on, give it a try.” Whether he had though about the effect it would have on Tom I didn’t know, but as soon as he’d said ‘give it a try’ he dropped to his knees and applied himself to Tim’s tap. “Oh Christ!” said Tom, having no idea how to react to a sight at once disgusting – after all, you didn’t piss on other people: hell! you didn’t even piss in company with other people, never mind doing it all over them; and you sure as anything didn’t piss in someone’s mouth – but like Felix’s, Tom’s cock countermanded these well-brought-up boy views. Tom’s cock wasn’t disgusted; Tom’s cock liked what it (or the proxy eyes it used – the ones up in Tom’s head) saw; Tom’s bladder was stimulated, like all boys’ bladders, by the sight of running water. “Oh fuck,” he said, only this time it was uttered despairingly rather than in horror. Despairingly because he had involuntarily started to piss, and it was running down his legs. Luckily Nigel was on hand to rescue him. “Let me help with that,” he said, and before he knew it Tom was pissing – yes, actually pissing – in Nigel’s mouth. His involuntary caressing Nigel’s head told the rest of us all we needed to know. Nigel didn’t spill a drop. Tom just moaned and let nature take its course. Graham put his arms round the pair of them and started to dribble onto Tom’s belly. With five minutes there were two men and a boy under each of the shower heads. All bladders were empty (although five were in the process of recycling: Tom had drawn the line, but I was pretty sure that his reluctance would be worked on by Felix, and quickly overcome). All were washing the bit of body nearest to them. Nothing was said, not then anyway. Six erections had subsided under the spray, but all six of us were pretty sure that six more erections would soon appear, and this time they would reach their intended fulfilment. Back in Cabin 1 we regrouped in our threesomes, only this time Tom was with us and Felix with Nigel and Graham. Felix was bursting to tell us what he felt. “You eight have taught me so much since we left New York, but what just happened is the damnedest thing.” I was unfamiliar with this expression in those days, but the expression on his face made it only too clear that, in this context at least, ‘damnedest’ was very good. “Last summer another guy in Seventh Grade and I went into the woods to do stuff – jerk off, you know – and after a while we both needed to piss, so we stood side by side and pissed into the creek about 10 feet below us. As we’d just jerked off together and we were both naked it was OK to merter escort watch the other guys pissing. I thought then that having him piss on me would be a great thing, so like a doofus I said so. A bit of me hoped he’d swing round, still pissing, and say ‘like this, you mean’, but he didn’t. He finished pissing, turned to me and said, ‘you’re fucking disgusting, Felix, you know that?’ We’d said stuff like that to each other lots of times, but this was different. The look on his face made it clear that we’d jerked off together for the last time. He got dressed and strode off. The only good thing, I suppose, is that he never told anyone. So what happened today was something I’ve wanted for months, but never thought I’d get.” He got off the bed, came across to ours and gave Tim and me a nice relaxed thank-you kiss, tongues and all. Then he went back and laid down between the twins. “Your turn, Tom, truth or consequences.” Tom’s tale was much simpler. He’d never thought of pissing with, on, or in anyone. He had been disgusted by what he had seen, but the three of us, with whom things just as disgusting if you thought about them dispassionately had taken place on many occasions in the last three weeks, were evidently having fun and, well, fun was what it was all about, so – what the hell! – and that was when he started pissing down himself. “It was so fucking embarrassing. I haven’t wet myself since I was 4. But when Nigel did what he did – my head just exploded, and, well, you saw what happened.” It wasn’t the most articulate speech, but its meaning was clear enough. “I take it the two of you might repeat the experience,” said Tim. It’s embarrassing for me to have to confess that some of our bad language habits must have been picked up by these two boys, for at the same moment they each said, “too fucking right.” I could tell that Tom had something else he was wondering about telling us – you know the sort of look somebody has while he’s having the internal do-I-tell-them-or-not debate. Felix’s sad tale of his erstwhile jerk-off chum must have tipped the balance in favour of disclosure. Tom had wrestled alone long enough. He looked anxiously at Felix. “Can I tell them about Stephen? I know he made us promise we wouldn’t, but he’s on Long Island and we’re here and we’ll never see him again, and anyway, these are our friends now, not him.” This was promising stuff, I thought, and when Felix, naked and warm between Tim and me, shrugged and said he didn’t see why not. What could it be, this thing so secret? Tom settled down, knowing he had centre stage. “Felix’s family came to stay with us in Long Island a month before we left New York. It didn’t take us long to start fooling about – we’ve already told you that. A neighbour of ours was this Stephen. He’s 16 and I never had anything to do with him until Felix appeared – he was 16 and I was 13, and we had nothing in common.” Felix laughed, “not then, Tom.” Tom went on. “One day Fe and I were at the swimming pool and Stephen was there. It was an afternoon, and there weren’t many people there. Anyway, we didn’t pay him any attention, but Fe said that he kept looking at us – or to be precise, Fe said Stephen was looking at him. Fe whispered that he thought Stephen might turn out to be interesting company. ‘Don’t be daft,’ I said, ‘he’s 16 and we’re just kids.’ ‘That just shows how ignorant you are,’ he said, ‘it’s beautiful kids like us – fresh-faced, nice innocent-looking boys like us – that he’s spent the last 20 minutes looking at.’ Anyway, we didn’t do anything. If Stephen was interested it was going to be up to him to do something about it.” “And he did, I take it,” said Graham, anxious to get to whatever juicy details might be forthcoming. “When we got out Stephen got out at the same time. There wasn’t anyone else there. In the changing room Fe immediately took his trunks off and swung his cock about. Stephen took one look and came over. This was it, I thought. ‘Nice cock,’ he said, ‘but what’s really nice is your feet. I like feet.’ This wasn’t what either of us were expecting. ‘Can I dry them for you?’ Fe laughed. ‘They’re just feet,’ he said. ‘Oh no, they’re the most beautiful part of you, and I want to worship them.’ Stephen actually got down on his hands and knees and kissed Fe’s feet. ‘I like that,’ said Fe, ‘why don’t I sit on the bench and you can really get to know my sexy little feet.’ Stephen practically swooned. He took each toe and told Fe how beautiful it was, how pink, how perfectly formed, bahçeşehir escort all that sort of stuff. I reckoned my feet weren’t any different from Felix’s, so I thought I might as well have my feet worshipped as well. So I took off my trunks – Stephen paid no attention as he was busy slurping on Fe’s toes – and sat down next to them. ‘Mmm, I love boys’ toes,’ said Stephen in mid slurp, ‘pink and perfect.’ He went back to slurping and stroking. My cock was stirring, which seemed strange. I’ve never thought of feet as sexy, but if Stephen was going crazy over 20 13-year-old toes it seemed possible that four 13-year-old hands might go crazy over one 16-year-old cock. After all, he wasn’t likely to fuck off when I reached for his cock if he was that turned on by our feet. So I screwed up my courage and said, ‘please can we see your cock, Stephen? It’s only fair if you can see our feet.’ He never took his mouth off Fe’s foot, but he wriggled out of his trunks and dropped them behind him. His cock was enormous! Well, actually it wasn’t, but it was the first cock apart from Fe’s I’d seen, and it was hard and hairy. Why aren’t you hairy – you’re all older than Stephen?” I didn’t want to break the story, so I said I’d tell him later, “go on though – what happened then?” Felix took over. “The sensation of his tongue sucking each of my toes, and licking the space in between them, was a good feeling, and I could see how some guys might find it was sexy. What I found sexy was the whole idea that this big hairy 16-year-old found me – us – a turn-on. Would he let us do proper stuff with him? The kind of stuff you’ve done with us, I mean. I had difficulty in not giggling – as well as being ticklish the whole idea of someone sucking my feet was so odd.” “Tell them what happened,” said Tom, “that’s the best bit.” Felix smiled in happy recollection of what Stephen had finally got round to suggesting. “After he’d sucked every one of my fucking toes and then sucked every one of Tom’s – it must have taken 20 minutes or more, and both of us with hard-ons waiting to get our rocks off, he looked up. ‘That was great. I need to bust a nut, and you guys look like you do too. Will you two stand facing each other real close and do what you need to do. Don’t worry about where it goes, just jizz when you have to.’ ‘What about you?’ I said. Stephen grinned. ‘Don’t you worry about me, just let me do what I have to do.’ Tom and I shrugged – we were going to jerk off facing each other right close, so any jizz was going to hit the other guy in the belly. We both thought that was a wicked idea, so we just got on with it.” “And what did Stephen do?” asked Nigel, keen for the saga to reach whatever conclusion it was headed for. “Guess.” “Oh, I don’t fucking know, just tell us, for God’s sake,” – this from Tim. “He knelt real close and jacked himself hard, real fast, faster than we’ve ever done. He got red in the face and was panting and sighing, and then he groaned and streams of jizz poured out onto our feet. It was weird, but we were so close we weren’t going to stop. ‘Quick,’ I said, ‘on our feet. So we bent our cocks down as we came and shot most of it on our feet and legs. The sight was unbelievable – gallons of the stuff, his and ours, all over our feet. Tom and I sighed happily, and then Stephen bent down and licked the whole goddam lot up. You guys lick, and so do we now, but watching Stephen hoovering up three loads of jizz was something else. And the strange thing is that during the whole of that time not one of us gave a moment’s thought about anyone else coming in to the changing room.” There was a silence while we digested what the boys had told us. None of us had ever had any interest in our feet as sexual objects, and when we asked the boys if they had found each other’s feet sexy they both laughed. “Did you do it with Stephen again?” I asked. “Nope, we never did anything with him again. We saw him in the neighbourhood, but he never spoke to us or anything,” said Felix. “That’s not true,” said Tom, “one afternoon I was out and he was coming towards me along the sidewalk. I didn’t know what to do, so I smiled as we approached. He stopped. ‘Nice toes, kid, and tasty too,’ he said and just walked on. Why aren’t you all hairy like Stephen?” I told him simply that we shaved, but I didn’t tell him why. Some things are best kept secret, after all. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 125 as we see Felix and Tom for the last time. The photographs in Queen Mary 2 are real. I saw them while making a transatlantic crossing in 2017, and the boy I describe as “me” is really cute. I’m sure he had adventures … Drop me a line at net – that is after you’ve dropped a few quid. ===============================================================================

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Subject: Queen Mary Bell Boys Queen Mary Bell-boys by badboi666 =============================================================================== If sex with boys isn’t your thing, go away. If, as is much more likely, you’ve come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about sex with 14-year-olds then make yourself comfortable – you’re in the right place. Don’t leave, however, without doing this: Donate to Nifty – these buggers may do it for love but they still have to eat. fty/donate.html =============================================================================== Chapter 28 Unlike Slim, who had had no hesitation about telling Sir what he wanted to do with me last week, Hank had been too embarrassed to spell out his requirement. It ‘s not as if being pissed on was all that unusual, especially if we were talking about paying for sex. “I want you to piss on me,” Hank had said. I explained that Sir’s boys were trained to be nice and clean before visiting a client, but that if special needs were to be catered for, then a full bladder could be arranged. By the nature of things, however, a certain amount of time was needed. “I tell you what I can do, Hank,” I said. “I will go away and come back in about half an hour. I will drink a lot of water and when I come back we can play properly.” “I have a better idea,” said Hank, “I’ve plenty of fruit juice in my fridge – why don’t you drink all that while we fool around for a while, then you can see what happen later.” This seemed fair. “OK,” I said, “lead me to it.” “You’re OK with piss then?” “Oh yes, I love it. You can piss on me, or in me if you want, and when my bladder’s full I’ll piss wherever you want.” Hank smiled. “That’ll be worth waiting for.” Hank opened the fridge and inside were several bottles of orange juice and a big bottle of water. I downed two bottles of juice and started on the water. “This’ll take half an hour to work through – what would you like to do while it’s cooking?” “I want to fuck your pretty little ass.” That was fine by me. “How do you want me?” “All in good time, Patrick. Stand up.” I put the water down and stood by the bed. I don’t remember how heavy I was back then – around 7 stone, I suppose, but Hank was able to pick me up without any effort. He turned me upside down and held my by the hips facing him, with my arse – ass, as far as he was concerned – by his face. His cock wasn’t quite in reach of my mouth, but it was tantalisingly close. I put my arms round his waist and my legs either side of his head and waited to see what he would do next. I felt his tongue exploring my crack, displayed open and waiting, right in front of his eyes. This was a new one – I’d been rimmed plenty of times, but never upside down. It was certainly different, and I found it strangely erotic; it must have been the blood rushing to my head. He lapped happily, his tongue getting a little way into me. I decided I could stay in position with only one hand round his waist, so I used the other to stroke his balls and run my fingers the length of his cock. I didn’t want to make him come though, believing that his plan was to fuck me at some point. He put his lips on my arsehole and sucked. This was another new feeling. “That’s so nice,” I said, “you’re making me hot for you.” He started to lick my crack vigorously, but while it might have been great for him it wasn’t doing anything fir me – I wanted something up me, and I didn’t really mind right then whether it was his tongue, his fingers or his cock. “Put your fingers in me,” I murmured, “my ass needs to feel you in there.” He turned to the bed and laid me on it. I was on my back, so I pulled my knees up and got them up by my ears. My arse was now completely open, defenceless, vulnerable. Just the sort of sight a client wants to see, especially an arse as invitingly beautiful as a Mulloy one. I made it wink at him. He was in there in a flash, three fingers stretching me delightfully. I sighed happily. “Mmmm! that’s nice, Hank, you can play in there as long as … ” He had found my prostate and speech was becoming difficult. “Urgh, urgh, urgh” as he rubbed it, then “oooooh! fuck!” as my cock spewed out the cum he’d conjured from me, four good jets up near my chin. “Very nice, Patrick, you’re a big boy, aren’t you,” and Hank bent his lips to scoop up as much of my silvery offering as he could. When he’d swallowed it all I pointed out that there was probably more to be had on my cock. When that was all cleaned off I felt I ought to return the compliment, so I took his cock into my mouth. “Not yet,” he said. This was odd, but as he was paying I stopped sucking and waited for instructions. It was time for another large swig of water. Fifteen minutes ought to do it. “I want to fuck you,” he said after a minute, but I want to do it in the bathroom. “Is that because you want a ataköy escort pissfuck?” “Yes.” “Good, I haven’t had one for days. I’ll be ready to piss on you in 15 minutes, I think.” Hank was content to wait, so we lay side by side on the bed, gently stroking each other’s cock. It was as good a way of earning one’s living as another. When you do what we six did you don’t spend much time lying stroking the client’s cock, as I was doing then. It’s usually buried inside you somewhere. While that’s nice for the most part, it’s also nice just to spend a few minutes being gentle, especially if you’re having your cock stroked as well. Ten minutes passed. “I think I’m getting near to having to piss,” said Hank, “come on,” and he got up, took me by the hand (how romantic, I thought) and led me into the shower area. I was familiar with the layout which I would discover was the same throughout most of the ship. Only the expensive suites had proper bathrooms. “How long till you’re ready?” he asked. “I could piss now, but I think it’s much better if I’m damn nearly busting, then it goes a lot harder.” Hank grinned, “I like the sound of that. OK, I’ll piss first and you holler when you can’t hold it any longer.” I knelt down with my head and shoulders on the shower floor and my arse enticingly ready to be filled. Hank bent down behind me and gave my arse the kind of attention it craved from his fingers. “Don’t make me cum again – well, not yet anyway. After I’ve pissed,” I said. I felt the tip of Hank’s cock – cut, of course, poor bugger – as it teased my arse lips. I pushed out a bit and he pushed in and … he was all the way in. He wasn’t huge – 7 inches maybe – but it was a lot thicker than most. It would stretch me sideways, and if you’ve ever been pissfucked you’ll know that sideways is important. He fucked me – not hard, but deep – for a couple of minutes, then he pushed right in, put his arms round my chest and held on. A picture of two frogs fucking slipped into my mind … and slipped out again as I felt the hot stream of Yankee piss invade my guts. This is when having a fat cock pissing up your arse is so much better. Your arse can only hold so much piss, and the weakest part of what’s holding it in there is your arse lips. And that’s a bloody good thing, or the piss would burst out into you and you’d have a real job explaining that to the surgeon when he opened you up. “Why, boy, I do declare, your intestines are swimming in piss!” No, when the pressure gets too great it starts leaking out where it went in. If the guy’s fat the piss stays in longer, and when it comes out it doesn’t just trickle – believe me, it doesn’t. A wise whore will always try to face the shower door when being pissfucked. That way the mess stays where it’s best. What was really nice was that Hank had a really full bladder. That meant that he was still filling me up while the piss was flying out of my arse all over his belly, his balls and his legs. He was ooohing with great gusto, so I reckoned he was getting his money’s worth. Needless to say I was thoroughly enjoying it too. While he was still pissing he pulled his cock almost all the way out. I felt hot piss jetting onto bits of my insides that hadn’t been in the direct line of fire before – a new sensation. Then, without any warning, his cock still pouring piss into me, he rammed it in really hard. I cried out, in surprise more than anything else, a gallon of piss flew out of me, hit the wall of the shower and drenched my back. Lovely, I thought, I like this guy. This guy’s cock finally finished pissing. It then started fucking in an arse still full of piss. Each time he pushed in another load of piss pistoned out. After half a dozen thrusts the piss had pretty much gone and Hank got on with the serious business of filling my arse with jizz instead. This he did after a couple more minutes. “Oh God, kid, take it! take it!” I was happy to do so. As soon as his cock had dribbled its last he whipped it out. “You must be ready to piss now,” he muttered. I nodded. “Get up then and piss on me.” He knelt down. “All over.” I stood in front of him and took ‘all over’ to mean just that. I pissed on his head, his face, his chest, his cock. Then he opened his mouth. I obliged, completing the task therein. He swallowed it all, while his hands rubbed the piss with which I’d covered him into his bronzed skin. “Mmmm! that’s great, kid,” he said. “I loved it, Hank,” I said – which was true – “I wish we’d met earlier.” “You’d better shower,” he said, leaving me in the cubicle while he sat on a towel outside. I didn’t take long as I was planning a proper shower when I got back to the cabin, so all I did was wash enough of the smell off so that I could get back without attracting attention. I dried myself and put my clothes back on. Hank, merter escort still wet with piss, held out his hand. “Thank you, Patrick, you are one sexy boy,” and he gave me $25. I felt that this deserved a kiss, even if I did get slightly pissy. Two down. When I got back to the cabin it was just after 1600. There was no-one around so I went for a proper shower. When I got back 15 minutes later Tim was there. “I thought you’d want to hear about Gus,” he said, “so I waited for you.” “Thanks. My client wanted piss but the silly sod never told Sir. That’s why I had a really good shower.” “Lucky you,” said Tim. I agreed. “It was good – he did things no-one’s done to me before. But what about Charlie?” “I envy you,” he said quietly, “your boyfriend is the sexiest boy I know. He loved every moment of it with Gus. Gus fucked him twice, the first time hard and fast like you asked and the second time for a good 15 minutes, and Charlie was so loving all of it. He’s going to wear you out, you know.” I laughed. “Yeah, and when I’m shagged out I’ll set him onto you.” It was Tim’s turn to laugh. “No, I mean it. Charlie’s as keen on sex as we are, and he’s only been at it – what? 10 days?” I nodded. “Well then,” went on Tim, “if you and he really are going to get it on together – and I hope you do, by the way, ‘cos I love you both – you’ll be making sparks every night.” I could hardly wait. “I hope so,” I said, “I really do love him, and it’s completely different from how I love you. I can do both, you know – you’re not pushed out.” “I know, you silly sod,” said Tim, “I feel the same.” I looked him in the eyes, and he looked straight back at me. “Sam?” He nodded. “Does he know?” He nodded again. “And does he … ?” He nodded again. I hugged him. “Oh Tim,” and tears began to flow again. Why do we weep when we’re really, really happy? Looking back on those days now, from nearly 82 years later, it’s astonishing how important those first two Atlantic crossings were in both – all – our lives. Tim and I had left Southampton as twins, devoted to each other and uncaring about anybody else. Before we got back to Southampton less than two weeks later we had each met the man with whom we’d spend the rest of our lives – in Charlie’s and my case for over 80 years. Tim and Sam weren’t together for as long, but – well, that’s another story. We pulled ourselves together. A gentle kiss said it all. Well, almost all. “Tell Sam I’m really pleased,” I said, “and that he’s just right for you. You always liked the biggest cocks going.” The punch I received was welcome – the awkwardness of yesterday was forgotten. It was time to eat, and after the energetic goings-on I was starving. I needed to stoke up for an energetic night too. When we came off duty at 1945 Sir’s six met in our cabin. We quickly relieved ourselves of our clothing. Alan told us about the 2-hour piss session he and Sam had had that afternoon. “It was great,” he said, “because there were two of them there and they both had the biggest bladders imaginable. They had a suite and they’d put some kind of sheet down in the bathroom, which was about twice the size of this cabin. The older one – he was about 50, a fat American called Don – pissed on Sam and me as soon as we got our clothes off, but he managed to stop after about 15 seconds. Then the younger one, Todd, a really sexy slim black guy who can’t have been more than about 18, aimed the biggest cock I’ve ever seen at us.” Sam grinned and continued, “he slapped my face with it and sad ‘open, boy’, so I did and I got the taste of him – spicy, nothing like any cock I’ve tasted before – then he started to piss. ‘Swallow it, boy’, said Don, so I did my best, but a lot of it went down my chest. Then suddenly Todd took his cock out, drenching my face, and Alan had to take it.” “I managed to swallow it for the first gallon, but when it just went on gushing out I couldn’t take any more, and it ran down me. Sam and I worked out afterwards that Todd must have pissed for at least a minute and a half without stopping.” “Then they each started to drink fruit juice,” said Sam, “while we just stayed in the bathroom with piss cooling on us. I said I needed to piss, because we’d been told to have full bladders. ‘Good’, said Don, ‘you’ll piss on Todd’. Todd put his drink down, having swallowed at least a pint, and knelt on the sheet. ‘Get pissin’, kids,’ he said.” I could see that Peter and Charlie were taking all this in with great interest. “Go on, Alan, what happened?” asked Tim. “Well, we did what Don wanted. I was behind Todd and Sam was in front. We aimed our cocks at his head and let go. Todd swallowed Sam’s until he reached forward and aimed Sam’s cock lower down. ‘On my cock,’ he said. I pissed down his back and then Todd moved slightly so I could aim right bahçeşehir escort at his arsehole. Suddenly Don said ‘stop’. It isn’t that easy, but we both managed. ‘Now the difficult bit,’ said Don. ‘Sam’s got the bigger cock, so he’s to piss up Todd’s arse – put it right in’, and Alan – do you know what docking is?’ I didn’t, but he told me. Todd and I pulled our foreskins back, I put my cockhead up against Todd’s, then he rolls his foreskin forward over both our cocks – I tell you, it’s incredibly hot.” “Then what?” from Charlie, of all people. “I piss. Todd’s foreskin balloons out to about the size of an apple then the piss bursts out and splashes over us both. ‘Do it again,’ said Todd, so I did.” “Wait a minute,” said Sam, “you haven’t told them that my cock was up his arse by then and I was pissing for all I was worth.” The picture was an intriguing one. Sam was pissing up Todd’s arse, Alan was docked, and pissing into Todd’s foreskin. “Then I felt Don pissing on my back,” said Alan, “and he kept it up for at least a minute. Then, when my bladder was empty, Todd said ‘hold on, boy,’ and he started pissing into his foreskin balloon.” Sam said, “I couldn’t see any of this, worse luck, because my cock was still up Todd’s arse. Don said to Todd ‘finished?’ and Todd nodded. ‘Fuck him, Sam,’ he said, ‘fuck him hard and fill his gorgeous black ass with white boy jizz,’ so I grabbed Todd by the hips and went at him as hard as I could. I fired the white boy jizz – I take it that’s what Americans call spunk? – right up his gorgeous black ass. I wish I could’ve lasted longer, but I was so horny what with the piss and everything that I shot up him in about a minute.” Silence fell as the six of us contemplated what we had just heard. Two of them had been there; two of us were experienced piss-hounds who wished we had been there; two of us were unused to piss, but from Peter’s and Charlie’s faces it would not be a situation in which they would be unhappy to find themselves at some future time. I made a mental note to advise Sir that all six of us were willing to play piss games … no, not willing, keen. “So what happened then,” asked Tim, “that can’t have taken two hours.” “We all showered, then Don and Alan got into a cuddle, and Todd and I did,” said Sam. “What Sam means is that for the next hour we were paired off sucking and being sucked. I came twice in Don’s mouth and he came all over my chest. He didn’t show any interest in fucking me or being fucked – it was all mouth with Don.” “Todd and I 69ed for a while, just gentle sucking. After a while I moved and we kissed – he was a good kisser – and I whispered that I wanted him to fuck me. ‘I love a big cock,’ I said, ‘and yours is the biggest I’ve seen. Will you fuck me?’ Todd nodded. He turned onto his back and I knelt over him. In it went, very slowly. It was unbelievable. If I’d yawned you’d have seen his cockhead, I swear.” Alan said, “I watched. It was the sexiest slow fuck I’ve ever seen. Todd ploughed him for at least 20 minutes and all the time Sam was mewing like a fucking kitten. At last Todd growled something like ‘I’m jizzing’ and sparks came out of his ears. Well, not quite, just steam.” Sam went on, “I’d come a few minutes earlier, but with bloody nearly a foot up me I was hard again soon after. Todd’s cum shot out like a high-pressure hose, and it felt like at least 7 or 8 hard squirts. ‘Boy these niggers jizz, don’t they, Sam?’ said Don. Todd grinned, ‘you bet, massa.’ I’ve not come across Americans and their black and white stuff before, but these two certainly got on together all right. They’re a funny lot.” I wondered how much of this would reach Sir’s ears tomorrow. Tim, lying next to Sam, reached out to stroke Sam’s soft cock. “I’m very proud of you,” he whispered to it. We all fell about laughing. “Are you telling us about your session, Tim?” said Alan. Tim declined to do so, saying that all the details would be made known at 0915 tomorrow. He can be very annoying sometimes. Charlie whispered in my ear, “it’s worth waiting for, I promise,” and with that we had to be content. It was now 2045. Phil would arrive soon after 2200. No doubt Tim and Sam would sleep together next door, and this time without Tim feeling he was being banished. Alan and Peter – well, their situation was fluid. I had no idea about how they felt for each other beyond the obvious friendship we all had as part of a team, and a special team at that. It wasn’t my business. But with Roger’s bed vacant Alan could sleep there if it suited everybody. “Come on, Charlie,” I said, “time to get ready for bed,” and the two of us went for a shower. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 29 as the long day continues. The story is, of course, fiction, but the photographs in Queen Mary 2 are real. I saw them while making a transatlantic crossing a few months ago, and the boy I describe as “me” is really cute. I’m sure he had adventures … Drop me a line at net – that is after you’ve dropped a few quid. ===============================================================================

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Subject: Being with Steve: Chapter 3 “Adam?” the hostess said from behind her podium. All I could do was weakly shake my head in the affirmative as all of the saliva in my mouth and throat had suddenly disappeared, leaving only a gritty feeling of sand. “Right this way.” she said with a smile and began the walk to toward the rear of the restaurant. There he was. In person. Steve stood and towered over the hostess and myself. The sand in my mouth had turned to a fine dust by now. “Thanks, Sam.” Steve said as the hostess turned and walked back toward her post. “Hello, baby. Sit… please.” Steve motioned to the booth opposite him. I shot a look around to survey any other restaurant patrons or staff within earshot. “Don’t worry, baby. We’re on our own over here. A $20 tip to a hostess buys you an hour or so of privacy.” Steve said with a wink. “Thanks.” was the first word I would get out in what felt to be an eternity. I seated myself across from him, nearly convinced that he had also paid to have my side of the booth lowered to the floor to further call out the stark contrast in our sizes. I looked sheepishly up at Steve, instantly recalling that the man I was sitting across from was the same that said he was going to cum in my mouth and fuck me. I became intoxicated in anxiety at that thought, nearly paralyzed in fear. “Baby, you look like you’ve seen a ghost or something. You’ve gotta calm down. I told you that nothing sexual would happen tonight, no matter how much either of us were begging for it. That’s not the way this works with me. Do you understand?” he said forcefully. Doing nothing to calm my nerves, I just shook my head yes. “I’ve ordered us a salad and a pizza. It’ll be out in a moment. Until then, I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me if you’re willing to keep going, or if we should go our separate ways now. I’m not trying to be a jerk, but you look like a frightened little girl right now.” I was almost insulted that he though I wasn’t wanting to go through with this. I shaved my entire body, refrained from masturbating, and walked here in the cold. Of course I wanted to go through with it. “No, no… I want this. I really do.” I forced out as hard as I could. “Daddy.” That garnered a large smile from Steve. He beamed on hearing that. “That’s my girl.” He noticed the look of confusion on my face following that comment, but only offered a grin in response. “House Works and salads?” the runner asked, placing the food on the table without waiting for confirmation that the order was correct. “Actually, we’ll take it to-go, buddy.” Steve said to the peeved looking runner who gathered up the food and walked it back to the kitchen to box up. “You’re here. You’ve followed the rules, I can tell. You’ve followed the rules so well that you’ve even shaven the hair on your arms. I’m proud of you, baby. Here’s what we are going to do. We are going back to my house to play a game. I’m going to give you two items to pick from, and you’re going to pick the one you like the most… or not pick the one you hate the most. Once that’s done, I’ll take you back to your house and we’ll work on planning our next little outing. Clear?” Steve said with a devilish smile on his face. I nodded my consent and began to stand just as the runner emerged from the kitchen with the food prepared ataköy escort for carry out. Steve paid the bill and escorted me to the passenger seat of the black Mercedes. The ride was mostly quiet, I was too nervous to say much. Steve did tell me that he was a corporate lawyer for a healthcare company, and had been fairly successful in a few lawsuits early in his career. He chuckled as he told me that the company he works for now was actually one that he sued while he was in his own firm leading to a multi-million dollar payout on behalf of his client, and six weeks later the company called asking him to lead their legal department. I can only imagine what that paycheck looks like. After about 10 minutes of driving east, we arrived at a gated community that overlooked a beautiful lake. Steve pulled into the first house on the right… a large home with a circular driveway out front. He parked the Mercedes at the front door of the house and reached over me to open the passenger door. Mere inches from his face, I caught an intoxicating scent of cologne that left me nearly breathless. I climbed out of the SUV and waited for Steve to come around and lead me inside. Once in, the home opened into a beautiful foyer with two staircases running up either side. “So this is how the other half lives” I thought to myself. Steve led me into the kitchen, and proceeded to open the pizza box and hand me a slice. I took it eagerly, realizing that I hadn’t eaten in nearly 24 hours. Steve handed me a can of Diet Coke and showed me to the dining room table. “Alright, baby. To cover the rules of this part again… you will wait here while I prepare the two items to choose from in the master bedroom. Once prepared, I will come back out here and write down my guess of what you will select. You will then enter the room and have 2 minutes to examine and determine your most favorite item of the two. You may not like either. In that case, you will need to decide which you dislike the least. Once you decide, you will place the preferred item into the bin on the bed, and you will place the item in the bin in the closet. Once done, with the five choices, I will have you present the items to me and will show you my guess as well. If we’re compatible, I believe we will match on most, if not all, of the items. Do you have any questions?” “No.” I responded in a low voice. “Great, lets get started.” Steve walked into the master bedroom across the hall from the dining room and closed the door behind him. I waited what felt like an eternity before the door opened again and Steve emerged, closing the door behind him. He took his seat again, and pulled a notebook from a bag next to him and scribbled something on the paper. “You may go” he said. I stood with shaky knees, completely unaware of what I would be walking into. I arrived at the door and twisted the heavy knob and pushed the door, entered, then closed the door behind me. I turned and noticed the huge bed, king sized for sure, but taller than any bed I had ever seen. A sheet covered the food of the bed and I could see two shapes covered by the sheet. I approached and moved the sheet up. Sitting in front of me were two dildos, one massively large, one smaller but still significantly larger than my own dick. What was I supposed to do here. What merter escort was picking one or the other going to signify? I picked the smaller one up to examine it. It was so lifelike, it was scary. The head of the dildo was spongy, veins running along the shaft, and two testicles situated at the base. It flopped very slightly as I turned it over in my hand, the synthetic skin moving slightly over the substructure. I could nearly wrap one hand around the shaft, my thumb and middle finger not quite touching. The massively large dildo was very heavy, but just as lifelike. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I was here in Steve’s home examining dildos on his bed. I’d never thought I would touch any cock or cock like thing not belonging to my own body, yet here I was. I knew time was running short, and afraid of the implication of selecting the large dildo, I placed the smaller on in the basket near the bed and took the larger one into the closet. Steve had a large smile on his face as I emerged, and walked past me to reenter the room. The next choice again threw me for a loop. We had never discussed any specifics, so pulling the sheet off to see two pairs of panties laying on the bed confused me. One pair was pink cotton with little hearts all over and white lace around the legs and waste, boyshort cut. The other pair was a black lace crotchless thong that would leave nothing to the imagination of the observer to the wearer. Picking up both, I decided on the pink panties, relegating the black to the closet basket. The next choice was between a large anal plug and a chastity cage. I chose the chastity cage as it seemed less painful, assuming it was Steve’s intent to use any of the items on me. I carefully placed the chastity cage in the `keep’ basket and again emerged red in the face. Fourth was a choice between a flogging paddle that looked like Steve had picked it up on Fraternity Row, or a ball gag. I made this choice easily as spanking with that paddle did not resonate well with me. I placed the gag in the `keep’ basked and happily tossed the paddle in the closed bin. The fifth and final choice was one that caused significant pause as the choice was between more than just one item. I first pulled off the sheet from the left side of the bed and was staring at a full gimp suit, complete with a hood with zippers on the eyes and mouth, a full vinyl feeling body suit with a zippered pouch at the crotch and a significant built in butt plug at the seat. I’d never seen anything like it, and frankly would be happy to never see anything like it again. I had absolutely zero desire to ever be in anything like that. I had already determined that the other option couldn’t be as bad and would be my default choice. The blood drained from my face a bit as I uncovered an outfit that looked as if it had been curated for a giant toddler. There was a snap crotch onesie with a pink skirt around the waist and ruffles on the butt with princess adorned across the chest. Under it lay a pink and white disposable diaper with fairies and unicorns covering the tape and pink and white designs covering the rest. Above the onesie was a large pacifier that had “Daddy’s Girl” across the front and a large nipple the would fill my mouth. The outfit was finished off with white tights, and ruffled socks. bahçeşehir escort I was nearly breathless, so confused as to the game Steve was playing with me. No way in hell would I end up in either of these outfits. I had considered walking out and saying I wouldn’t pick, but I know the end result of that would be unfavorable, most likely ending any possible future meet ups we would have. Resigned and defeated, I placed the gimp suit in the closet and packed the toddler items in the `keep’ basket. I slowly emerged from the bedroom. Steve stared across the dining room with fire in his eyes. I could tell the look I had was exactly what he wanted to see. I could see the lust in his eyes. I knew what he wanted to do to me at that moment, and I’m not sure I would have resisted. “Alright, baby… go get the items you’ve chosen. Starting with the first, I want you to place them on the table in front of you when I say.” I turned back for the bedroom, fighting the urge to run, and picked up the basket. “And up first we have…” he said, almost seeming as if there were a drumroll playing in the distance. He smiled as I pulled out the smaller dildo. He asked if that was bigger than my dick, I nodded. “I bet much larger, to be honest.” he said with a smirk. I should have been offended, but it gave me butterflies when he teased me like that. “Alright, lets see the panties my little baby has chosen. Are you a little girl or a big girl?” he said gleefully. “Aww, you’re a little girl. How cute. You’re going to be fucking adorable.” he said as I laid the pink panties out on the table next to the dildo. “Next up…” he said as I pulled the chastity cage out from the basket. “Hmm.” was all he said to that item. I was curious if he expected me to pick the other. “Aright… does Addy like spankings or having a full mouth?” the excitement in his voice was palpable, almost over the top. “Ahh, mouthful it is. Good.” he beamed. “Alright, Addy… I know this last one was probably a tough choice. I want to know if you’re going to be my little baby or my little bitch slave. Which is it gonna be?” I slowly pulled the diaper from the basket and set it on the table, nearly tearing up hearing him confirm that in order for this all to move forward, I would be wearing a diaper at some point. Steve clapped one time loudly and proclaimed that he had guessed every item correctly. He opened the notebook and flashed the page confirming “Addy’s Choice” and all of the correct items labeled below. “See baby, I knew this was something. I knew you wouldn’t let me down. You’re exactly what I was hoping for. I have a bonus question for you… you get to pick from one of these three.” He pulled out three 5×7 photographs from the bag and placed them down in front of me. One was a picture of a cabin in the mountains, the second was a cabana on a beach, and the third was an apartment overlooking a large city. I nearly immediately pointed to the cabin in the mountains and he smiled and winked. “Good choice.” Steve loaded the items back in the basket and dropped them into the master bedroom and ushered me to the door and into the Mercedes. He reiterated how happy he was that I selected the items I did nearly the entire way to my apartment. Once there, he reached over and opened the passenger door and gently placed a kiss on my forehead as I went to get out. “You’re life is about to change, baby. You’re going to love this.” he said “I know, daddy. Goodnight.” I said back with a smile. I drifted to sleep peacefully knowing I had ultimately made the right decision to reply to the email, and was very excited for what was to come.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

This is my second story on Nifty.

It”s a fragmentary story, and it moves along several timelines. It is a love story, and it evolves slowly. I don”t shy away from sex, but I like it best when sex sneaks up on you and tickles you, rather than pours a bucket over your head. So you have to wait a bit before the heat is on.

Love does not abide by religion or by law. Love is the ultimate anarchist. The term “sin” is meaningless in love”s language, as is the term “underage”.

If you disagree with this statement, go find another story to read.

If you should happen to like my story, please tell me. hoo

And please remember: fty/donate.html

 

For the record: The age of consent is 16 in Norway.

 

 

 

 

THE SOUND OF HIS FOOTSTEPS

Magnus Winter

 

 

PROLOGUE

 

 

→ Sander → → Diary 2018

Relationships. Networks. Those are the words. Building networks. Nurturing relationships. Reading the script, running through the lines. See those chalk marks? Well then, move accordingly! Lost it? Someone will cue you in! Let”s all get this show on the road.

Count me out. None of this is mine. The present is a just a consequence. The past needs polishing or it will be lost to the pain of emptiness. My back will be against the wall no matter how thick the make-up.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Troms�, August 1989

 

 

24.08.89

Dear Sander

Good to see you again. And a little sad too, on both occasions. Hope you aren”t too disturbed by everything.

When you left, I was reminded of an essay one of my more unpredictable students handed in a couple of years ago.

The assignment read : “GANGS � the hows and whys of peer pressure”, and I remember thinking of you then, and I”m

thinking of you now. Maybe because I found the essay so hard to assess, not to say mark. But I loved the repetitive fairy-tale style.

I enclose it with this letter. Don”t analyze. Just read it.

There are some students you never forget. As you well know.

Stay healthy and don”t forget I am still

Your friend Fred

 

Essay . Theme: GANGS.

Anne Line Eilertsen Sept 18 -85

BREAKING OUT

Once upon a time in a land far, far away there lived a flock of trolls in a cave in a forest on an island in a lake. Every day they slept in the cave, and every night they were out to find something to eat. For this is how it is with trolls: They eat anything that isn”t troll, they eat creatures that run and creatures that fly, they eat creatures that crawl and creatures that swim, anything that moves, and as they devour everything around them , they multiply so there are more and more of them, for that”s how it is with trolls.

One night there was nothing more to find. No big animals, no little animals, no birds in the tree tops, no fishes along the shore of the black lake, no small and blind crawling things under rocks or in the ground. And there was great unrest among the trolls, for trolls become disturbed when they do not understand things. Which is fairly often, for if there is one thing we all know, it is that trolls are stupid.

“What shall we do?” the trolls said to each other. “The only things here are rocks and trees and water and trolls, and we can”t eat rocks or trees or water or trolls. What shall we do?”

It so happened that in the flock was a troll who was the smallest and the smartest and the most soft-spoken of all the trolls, and whom the other big and blustering trolls used to knock about and steal food from and push into the black water.

“We have to look elsewhere”, the smallest and the smartest and the most soft-spoken troll said. “On the other side of the black water there are trees and rocks and surely something to eat, for I have seen light there at night.”

“Light?” the trolls shouted to each other and shuddered. “Light is dangerous to trolls!”

“No!” the smallest and the smartest and the most soft-spoken troll said. “It”s not like the big light in the sky that trolls can”t survive, it”s little lights that are warm and yellow and red.”

And little lights that are warm and yellow and red are no threats to trolls, for they are good at making little fires and they like to watch little things burn and be destroyed , for that”s how it is with trolls.

“It”s too far away” the trolls growled , “and we can”t walk on the black water, we sink and we disappear.”

“I don”t!” said the smallest and the smartest and the most soft-spoken troll. ” For each time you have thrown me into the black water, I have learnt more and understood more and made friends with the black water.”

And so it came to pass that the smallest and the smartest and the most soft-spoken troll got a big basket of braided twigs tied to his back and was pushed into the black water to get to the other side and search for what they were now lacking on the island.

On the other side he waded through the shoals to a sandy beach and a grassy slope surrounded by a forest. The grassy slope was fenced in by a stone wall with a wooden gate, and behind the gate he could see the warm and yellow and red glow from lanterns and among the lanterns sat a creature, bowed down and covered in a grey and hooded mantle, and there were sheep and goats and cattle asleep on the grass.

” There is much to see here,” the smallest and the smartest and the most soft-spoken troll said to himself as he looked around : Fish were jumping in the shallow waters and squirrels were jumping among the trees, rabbits were running and foxes were hunting and a wolf was howling deep in the forest. “I want to go in there”, thought the smallest and the smartest and the most soft-spoken troll and walked towards the wooden gate.

But as he came close, the creature in the grey mantle lifted his head , and a face as radiant and white as a sun beamed against him, and we all know how perilous sun is to trolls. “Oh my, oh my!” the smallest and the smartest and the most soft-spoken troll cried out and averted his eyes and ran for the shore and threw himself into the black water and swam over to the island with the forest and made it to the cave the minute before the big light rose in the sky.

“So? What did you see on the other side?” the trolls asked when evening had come and the big light in the sky had gone away. And the smallest and the smartest and the most soft-spoken troll discovered something no troll had discovered before him: how to lie. For if there is something we all know, it is that trolls can not lie, for lying requires that you can see further than your own nose. “I saw nothing”, the smallest and the smartest and the most soft-spoken troll said, for what he had seen he would not share. So the big and blustering trolls knocked him about and stole the fish that had trapped themselves in his basket and pushed him into the black water.

He waded up to the shore again. Now there were even more fish jumping and more squirrels climbing, more rabbits running and more foxes at their heels, and a wolf showed its head through the forest trees. “There is even more to see here now”, the smallest and the smartest and the most soft-spoken troll said to himself as he stared at the grassy slope where more warm and yellow and red lanterns glowed and more sheep and goats and cattle lay chewing their cud and the creature in the grey and hooded mantle stood upright with his back to him and a long staff in one hand. ” I want to go in there tonight.”

But as his hand touched the wooden gate, the creature in the grey and hooded mantle turned, and the mantle fell open and down to his waist and a face as radiant and white as a sun, and a chest as brilliant and silvery as a moon beamed against him. “Oh no! Oh no!” the smallest and the smartest and the most soft-spoken troll thought and his hand came up to shade his eyes. He could not fathom what kind of creature this creature was, for if there”s one thing we all know, it is that trolls do not understand beautiful creatures. But he couldn”t make himself run away. The blinding creature took one, then two, then three steps closer, and the smallest and the smartest and the most soft-spoken troll felt something he could not understand fall heavily through his breast. He tore loose and ran for the shore and threw himself into the black water and swam over to the island with the forest and made it to the cave the minute before the big light rose in the sky.

“Just fish again?” the trolls said to the smallest and the smartest and the most soft-spoken troll when evening had come and they had knocked him about and stole the fish that had trapped themselves in his basket and pushed him into the black water.

And for the third night in a row the smallest and the smartest and the most soft-spoken troll came though the shoals that were now boiling with fish, up to the shore where squirrels and rabbits and foxes and wolves ran in circles around the stone wall. Inside the wooden gate the sheep were baaing and the goats were bleating and the cattle were lowing in an ocean of warm and yellow and red glowing lanterns and in the middle the creature in the grey and hooded mantle lay flat on the ground. ” It will be my turn tonight”, the smallest and the smartest and the most soft-spoken troll thought and opened the gate and walked in.

The grey mantle was thrown aside and up rose a naked body, a body of the purest gold and the brightest jewels, a body that glittered and sparkled like a thousand stars. And the smallest and the smartest and the most soft-spoken troll lost all his words and all his thoughts and all his fears, he stood spellbound and bewitched and stared at the most beautiful of all beauty, the most wonderful of all wonders, and all his trollish darkness was lifted off him in a breath of wind.

So the smallest and the smartest and the most soft-spoken troll reached out his coarse and heavy troll hand and touched the brilliant and blazing body. And in a rush of joy he slowly turned to stone.

 

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

CHAPTER 1

 

Oslo, August 1989

 

Tall windows, no curtains. Jaundice sky, flat afternoon light. Inside, two fat moths whir towards the light and bang against the panes in an instinctive but pointless dance.

The man on the couch does not notice them. Naked, propped up against a heap of pillows stacked under his neck and shoulders, his nose as well as his mind is buried in his book. He swears as the persistent, shrill ringing from the phone penetrates into his preoccupied brain. His book falls to the floor as he heaves himself off the couch and scampers into the hall.

His voice is curt and hostile as he picks up the phone. “Yes?”

“Sander, did you see the news?”

 

“No, I”m reading.”

 

“Well then, listen. You remember that woman they found dead two days ago? In Hamar?

 

“No, I don”t. Why should I?”

 

“Because the facts are out now, and the woman was Elisabeth Olsen.”

The floor disappear under him, and he falls on his ass with a thud. His voice is gone.

“Sander, are you there?”

He swallows and almost chokes. Coughs. Collects his mind.

“Yes, sure. God. Fuck.”

 

“And that”s not all. There”s an APB out for Thomas. He seems to have vanished.”

Light flashes through his brain, ice runs through his blood, and he is sinking, sinking. This is not possible! his mind screams. A moaning NO! escapes him.

“Well, officially they want him as a witness. But it doesn”t look too good that he”s disappeared, does it?”

He pulls himself together, finds his voice.

“Fred, where are you? I need to see you!”

 

“As it happens, I”m at the airport. I was going back north again, but I”ll come by if you want me to.”

 

“Please do. Oh, please do.”

The phone goes dead. He just sits there.

 

 

 

Troms� 1979

 

Aleksander Sveen wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant smell of the green soap all schools seemed to stink of. He finally found his way to the teachers” common room. Phew. New names to learn, new hands to shake, new pages to fill in his almanac. And there was Fredrik Wedel. His first thought was How come those eyes don”t fall out? He forced himself to look elsewhere. Warning lamps flashed red. This man was going to be his colleague for the unforeseeable future, so kill off this unwelcome attraction right away. But those enormous pale blue eyes wouldn”t move away, and the quick, shy smile smothered his intensions. And then Fredrik Wedel cast a few meaningful glances at the group of aging males and females around them and said: “Good. You”ll be my friend.”

Autumn passed, they worked together and hung out every now and then, and Fred grew larger and larger in Sanders heart. And in his groin. And then one night they sneaked away from a totally unbearable collegiate dinner and got pretty drunk downtown instead. The pub closed, they shared a joint as they walked seemingly aimlessly through the snowy streets and then found themselves at Sanders door. And there was no invitation, no question, Fred just followed Sander in.

Sander”s head was lighter than a cloud. Those huge eyes seemed to suck him further and further in, and when Fred”s slender fingers loosened his tie, opened his first shirt button and slid across his throat, Sander”s brain evaporated. There was no deliberation, no plan, no thought, just a big, soft certainty when he leaned in and put his lips to Fred”s.

Fred sat very still for a moment before he withdrew. A small, surprised Oh! slipped out of his mouth, and Sander fell down into a black hole of regret and shame.

But Fred grabbed his hand. “It”s okay”, he said, “It”s just … I”m not gay.”

The closeness, the smell, those eyes. Oh no, no, no. Sander got up. “I think you had better leave.” His voice sounded like it wanted to hide.

“You know, I don”t think so”, Fred answered. “You”ll feel a lot worse in the morning if I desert you now. I”ll crash on the sofa.”

And that”s what he did. And in the morning they talked. And Fred”s words became Sanders solace, his comfort, his mantra: Everything is okay. Everything is okay.

 

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

→ Sander → → Diary 2018

When I think back � Oh stop it. Nothing, nothing, nothing ataköy escort comes out of burying yourself in the past. They all tell me.

Anyway. I never meant anyone harm. I wanted to be a good guy, how could I get so stuck in resentment and vindictiveness? I just longed to be branded by all-absorbing love, to be devoured by passion that never knew the word sober, to drown in the divine beauty of loving a person without a single reservation. Was it all just to satisfy myself, fill my own needs? Is that why I”m unable to feel empathy, care, devotion to those in my vicinity? Am I void of compassion, of moral? Is that why I feel so lost? So poor?

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

Troms� 1982

 

The room was still unfamiliar, still new. Like everything else around him now. Maybe that was a good thing, or maybe nothing was going to change. He stared out the window, raked his fingers through his black hair and shook his bony shoulders.

He hadn”t found his place yet; the place to hide, the harbor where he could be safe from the storms out there, the shelter where he could invent a life for himself, dream up some happiness. He gazed at the edge of the forest a short distance from the house, wondering when he would feel confident enough to search the woods to see if his place was out there. But something held him back. What if he didn”t find it? Would he bear the disappointment?

His mother had confiscated the key to his room the minute they moved in, to make sure he knew he was under her control, her surveillance. The only spot not visible from the door was the narrow space between the wardrobe and the wall. He squatted down on the floor there, drew his scrawny knees up to his chest, brought forth his little black book, and wrote a few hurried lines:

SO FAR SO GOOD

No black eyes yet. They”ll come, just wait and see.

VERY nice homeroom teacher. Maybe he”ll understand. Maybe he also feels his stomach tingle

when he sees his incredibly handsome friend. Maybe they are lovers. Maybe, maybe, maybe I should just drown myself.

Nothing is going to change, everything will be just the old ugly dirty nasty foul stupid shitty shitty shit.

 

 

 

Troms� 1982

 

Sander stood leaning against the wall way at the back where the room was darkest. A local band, rumored to be the hottest of the day, were cavorting onstage, bathed in simple, but rather striking beams of white and blue light. The smoke in the room rose and fell, when he squinted he could almost imagine he was under water. The sound was rotten, he couldn”t possibly catch a single word of the lyrics, not even what language they were in. Yet there was something likeable about this retro garage rock, something liberating in comparison with the pretentious synth-pop most bands were embracing at the time. The lead singer was kind of hot, and well, the main reason Sander still remained; sober , tired from a strenuous week, testy and irritable, annoyed by the drunk and stoned behavior of the crowd, He withdrew to somewhere deep inside himself, gave himself over to the base that hammered in his diaphragm and the bizarre images he produced in his head from changing between staring and squinting.

“Hi, Sveen, Sir!”

The voice broke into his reveries like a foghorn, forced him to look to his left: Untidy black hair, tufts hanging down the forehead of a narrow face that looked blueish and pale in the semi-darkness. There was something vaguely familiar about this boy, he had an uncomfortable feeling that he should know who this was. Someone from school? Not in his class anyway, and why did think, fortunately? The boy looked far too young to be there.

“Cool, aren”t they?” the boy shouted in his ear, then leaned back to the wall next to Sander.

 

“Do I know you?”

The boy didn”t hear him. He had to lean in and almost lick the boy”s ear to penetrate the thick mush of noise.

“You seem to know me. The question is, who are you?”

The boy laughed and answered something Sander only caught syllables of, Wedel”s class came through at least. Ah, Wedel”s class, that would make him sixteen, seventeen at most. Which meant underage for this event. And was that Sander”s business, should he do something about it? And if so, what?

The boy made no effort to move, didn”t seen fazed by the fact he was next to a teacher from his school. Sander hadn”t noticed alcohol on his breath, that probably meant he was on something else. He watched the boy on the sly: Black and red plaid shirt over black T-shirt with Police logo, black jeans held up by a narrow red belt, dirty white trainers. Thin straps of leather wound around his left wrist. A thin and bony body, half a head shorter than Sander, skin that looked young and freshly pure in the weak light. He just stood there by the wall, leaning back with eyes closed, as if he tried to belong, find his foothold there. But he shouldn”t be here.

The boy looked up and said something. Sander felt a sudden jolt of irritation, made a spontaneous decision, and gripped the boy”s elbow, “Come with me!” and steered him out to the hallway in front of the toilets. There was no protest, the boy let himself be pushed forward. The hallway was rather crowded, and Sander had to lean in close to the boy”s face and speak as low and urgently as he could. The boy looked very insecure and started to finger the back of his head, and stared at the floor.

“Listen, you”ve put me in a spot here. Whether you”ve sneaked in or carry a fake ID doesn”t matter two hoots, you are not supposed to be here. And you have deliberately caught my attention, and so made it impossible for me to ignore you. What do you expect me to do? Look at me!”

Sander bored into his eyes, searching for traces of whatever substance he was on. His gaze was steady, however, not cloudy or glazed, pupils normal as far as he could judge. Hazel eyes, slightly slanted, thick black lashes. Black straight eyebrows. Olive skin, small pimple on the side of his nose, plump upper lip, looked almost swollen, really kissable, and in the name of God, Sander, what are you doing?

He withdrew his eyes faster than a thief, his cheeks burning. The boy didn”t say anything. Sander continued, eyes glued to the floor.

“I”m tired and I”m weary, and luckily I”m not your nanny, so I”m going to leave now without more fuss . And so should you.”

Like a shot the boy”s voice was in his ear:

“Is Wedel your boyfriend? Do you sleep with him?”

Sander was caught totally off guard. He was just a hair”s breadth from knocking the boy flat out, instead his hands took a hard grip on the boy”s shirt collar, his eyes staring furiously into the boy”s face. But something in there made him instantly loosen his hold, something that sent a chill down his spine. There was no impertinence in the boy”s face, no malice. Just bottomless hunger.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 2

 

Oslo, August 1989

 

“I don”t think I ever had a friend like you. With your maturity. Your integrity.” Sander”s voice is slightly influenced by the aquavit they have consumed together. “It would have been so easy for you to have crushed me. That night when I tried to kiss you, you know.”

Fred sits with his elbows on his knees, palms together in front of his mouth, like a gothic Madonna. The room is drenched in Albinoni”s strings and organ.

“It had nothing to do with maturity. I wanted us to be friends. I liked you, pure and simple.”

 

“I was so sure you”d feel awkward with me, be afraid of me. Feel disgusted.”

 

“Idiot. I was never afraid of you. I was afraid for you for a while.”

Fred stretches, gets up and takes a few steps.

“I wish you hadn”t left. But I quite see why. Thomas came back that autumn, you know, back to my class. I haven”t seen him since he graduated, though. His mother moved to Hamar last year, I believe. Have you seen him since you left?”

Digging into old wounds, opening them up, creating new ones. Nothing ever heals. Time is no cure. Sander raises a finger.

“Once. Not good.”

Fred sighs. “What a stupid mess. What a waste. God, I was so sorry for you. Both of you.”

Sander”s brain is suddenly crystal clear.

“I have to find him. You have to help me find him!”

 

 

Troms� 1982

 

Sander”s head was in a turmoil. Again and again he replayed the incident in his head, trying to make sense of it. Was this what people thought? Were there others who, like this boy, thought that Fred and he were lovers? Was he so obviously gay that Fred was pulled along into the undertow? And how on earth could he fix this? On the other hand, why was he so upset by a ridiculous uttering from a stupid whippersnapper? And why the hell could he not erase that face, those eyes, those lips from his mind? Who was this punk? What was his name? Why the fuck did he have to stick his nose where it had no business to be?

When he unlocked his door it suddenly struck him that the boy hadn”t spoken with a northern dialect.

Sander got into bed. Couldn”t sleep. The more he tried to clear his brain, the sharper the image of this brat emerged. The hair, the face, the skin, the body, like a polaroid without sound, without smell. He forced other images into his head, fantasized other bodies to cover the disturbing picture of the boy, bodies of models and pornstars, wide shoulders and flat stomachs, tight Levi”s with a prominent bulge, a wet T-shirt he could pull off, an armpit to sniff and a navel to tongue, a nipple to tease, a zipper to open. Slowly, slowly smell his way to clean cotton underwear and the musky crotch within, feel his way to a hard cock with an upward curve and a small drop at the tip and … the moment his orgasm hit him, all he had in his head was the boy in the hallway saying Do you sleep with him?

 

Fred pulled him aside during lunch break. “Now, what”s up with you?”

“Nothing”s up with me. Why?”

 

“I read you like a book. Your face speaks louder than words. Didn”t you know?” He smiled his quick, contagious smile.

 

“Oh. Okay, I”ll tell you after school. We”ll go down and sit on the pier. I need some bloody air!”

It was one of those September days that are so rare in the north, sunny and warm enough to sit shirtless and relish the perfection of the weather and the view while Sander told his story. Fred was silent all through. Then he cocked his head and looked curiously at Sander.

“Why does it bother you if people think we have sex?”

 

“Why?” Sander cut in vehemently. “Because it it”s unfair to you! It gives a totally wrong impression of you, of our friendship. And it”s all my fault! My fault for being so obvious! And how can I fix this?”

 

“Come off it, there”s nothing to fix. It doesn”t worry me at all. Those that know me, know who I am.”

 

“How can you be so cool? Why are you always so nice to me? I screw up all the time. And who the hell was this … individual anyway?

Fred reflectively stroked his chin. ” By your description, I”d say it was Thomas Olsen.”

“And what kind of a sorry bastard is he?”

 

“I actually don”t know the first graders that well yet. But he”s certainly not a sorry bastard. He”s very reticent and shy, maybe because he”s a newcomer. He”s quite smart, by the way.”

 

“He wasn”t exactly shy yesterday. What on earth could have made him think that I … that we …”

Fred showed signs of a growing impatience.

“Come on, Sander. We”re together almost all the time. Someone is bound to make the wrong connection. And then there”s the way you look at me. Now, don”t get me wrong, I like the way your face is so easy to read.”

 

“Now you make me feel naked. Spied upon. I”ve never seen this kid before, why would he have any thoughts about me at all? Or us?

 

“You may not have noticed him, but he has clearly noticed you. Why else would he try to get your attention?

He sits in silence, lifts his head as if to say something, then seems to think twice. Finally:

“Listen. You are a very … attractive guy, don”t you know? There is something special, something really fascinating about you. Everyone notices. Some will appreciate it, some will dislike it. Feel threatened, be jealous. Attack you. Whatever moved Thomas to do what he did, I can only guess.”

Sander blushed. He was not used to hear people assess him that way, and it made him uncomfortable.

“I”m so fucking na�ve. I”m really sorry, Fred. You may have picked the wrong friend.”

Fred”s protests didn”t change the darkness in Sander”s confused mind. He got up and left Fred on the pier, broke into a run, needed to get away from it all. He walked and alternately ran through the high street, southward through the residential areas, all the way to the headland, blind and deaf in his own surrealistic world. He had to stop to pick a pebble out of his shoe, and as he stood there, stooped over his foot, the fog lifted in his head. And he knew. He knew why the confrontation with the boy in the hallway had stung him so hard. He knew why he was in this emotional cul-de-sac. He knew why the men he had met and gone to bed with always seemed to lack something, why he always got out of their beds as soon as he could, why he never left anything of himself, not a single emotion, in those bed. Why he never returned their calls. They were not Fredrik Wedel. And he could never have Fredrik Wedel.

 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The boy was in his corner behind the wardrobe, crying softly as he wrote in his little black book:

Thursday

WHY WHY WHY WHY?????????????????

He”s mad at me for what I said.

I”m just SICK SICK SICK

I screwed up I ruined everything he hates me and I want to DIE.

He”s so beautiful. I FAINT. Why can”t he see me? Maybe I”m invisible, maybe I don”t exist?

PLEASE!

 

I KNOW. I”m ugly I”m disgusting but I”m not stupid. I know why they bully me. Why can”t they just leave me alone and pretend I”m not there, like he does?

But I want him to see me. I want him to take my hand and take me to a place somewhere far far away where there is no sorrow and no angry voices and no daylight and only dark warm nooks and crannies and he will kiss me and feel me and love me

4 EVER & EVER & EVER

YES, Sveen, Sir. Aleksander Alexander Aleks Alex Sveen. A. Sveen.

 

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

merter escort  

→ Sander → → Diary 2018

My old wayward self really believed that love with all its manifestations was the strongest power. Eros. Agape. Philia. Sooner or later the poisons of evil and hatred would turn impotent and unharmful, and love would triumph chaos and defeat ignorance. How was I to know that love and hate are teamed horses: If one takes off, it never gets away from the other.

I don”t regret what I did. But I shouldn”t have waited so long. And now it”s all ashes and dust.

Others take care of the world. My time has been. And when my heart is to be weighed against the feathers of Ma”at, will it balance the scales? Or will the judges bow to each other and say: This one is for Ammit.

 

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

Troms� 1982

 

With great care Sander avoided the boy in the hallway, as he called him in his mind, even though he knew his name now. From the corners of his eyes he would notice when and where the untidy mop of black hair appeared, so he could change directions and never again have to confront those eyes, and he would try to rid himself of the nagging desire to learn what lay behind those damned words of his. But he couldn”t forget. That fucking punk, could he not just jump out of Sander”s head?

Then one day in the school yard he incidentally came upon a gang of four seniors who were positioned like a wall of backsides, while something obviously went on in front of them. He dutifully went to inspect, and there was the boy in the hallway, pushed around and shoved backwards by another senior. The last one”s voice could be heard above the hooting and the laughter.

“You want cock, huh? It”s what you want, fag? Some cock?” He was grabbing his crotch.

The boy was staggering from the shoves, his face flushed, but he threw his hair back and stared defiantly at the senior guy.

“Not yours, at any rate!”

The senior balled up his fist and hit the boy hard in the shoulder, the boy lost his balance and fell backwards with a thud into the newly fallen snow. Sander marched in between them, facing the senior, lips tight with fury.

“What the hell is the matter with you? What kind of behavior was that?”

The other guys opened their eyes wide and blew air out of their pursed lips. The attacker stared angrily at Sander, but soon realized he was defeated. The boy got to his feet and scampered off, Sander saw him look back twice before he was out of sight. Sander hadn”t quite finished with the bully yet.

“The next time you want to play tough guy, why don”t you take on someone your own size? Or haven”t you got the balls to do that?”

Walking away from the episode, Sander suddenly felt the impact of what had been said. And he felt his heart sink with betrayal as he realized his most prominent feeling was relief that the boy in the hallway had disappeared and saved him from confronting him again.

 

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

→ Sander → → Diary 2018

So I ask myself: Why did you act like you did? Why do you still act like you do? Don”t you ever learn?

I guess not. And then this futile and completely foolish hindsight: Why did you … What if it hadn”t … What would have happened if … Like thieves in the night these questions haunt me. And I do look back, almost perversely much, in wonder about that strange game of coincidence my life was. Is. Fate”s lawless juggling with meetings and happenings. Actions that seemed so clear, so imperative, and later proved so wasted and without purpose.

Consequences are unpredictable. The orderly domino effect has no meaning in my godless head, in my private paradox: I have no influence, no control, but neither am I included in some higher plan or under some divine leadership. I am just a collection of carbon molecules that dissolve and regroup without consciousness. I am cells that are born and die without will. I am water: Fog into rain, rain into lake, lake into fog.

Oh, my na�ve hopes that love was my motivation, my guide, my king. What is love? An outlet of chemical compounds, an untouchable stream of electrolytes that an idle brain receives and classifies as pleasant or unpleasant.

I”m without responsibility. I”m free of guilt.

 

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

Troms� 1982

 

The bathroom mirror was too big. The light was too bright, too revealing.

The boy stood naked, rubbing his shoulder. It hurt, but not nearly as much as some of the other knocks he had taken. The physical pain was in many ways a bonus, it took the attention away from the irrepressible demons that poisoned and numbed his thoughts. The demons of the big why.

Not why they bullied him and attacked him with words and fists. He had long ago come to terms with the logic, the justification of this. He knew he was a loser, a turd, an abnormal, gross worm, and he understood that was why they had to crush him.

But this inexplicable thing: Why had God done this to him? Why had God made him into what he was? He had tried for so long and so hard to be the way God wanted him to be, tried to be humble and devoted, tried to atone for his sins, tried to love Jesus. But it was evidently not enough, God reminded him relentlessly of how useless he was, how worthless, how unclean, how contaminated. And he had no idea of how to remedy his failure, there was nothing he hadn”t already tried, no road he hadn”t already walked down.

No one loved him. No one could love him. The mirror threw it at him: How could anyone love a body like that? Skin and bones, pale, ugly. Well, pale was his own doing, but there was no way he would take his shirt off outdoors. Ribcage that stuck out, hipbones that stuck out, shoulder blades that stuck out. Skinny legs and bony knees, legs that were useless for football or ski jumps. And then this uncontrollable, disturbing protuberance between his legs. It looked like it didn”t belong there, like someone had thrown it at him and it had just stuck. Never ever would he take his shorts off in the showers after PE. They ridiculed him enough already.

And now Sveen would think him ridiculous too. He would laugh at his weakness, his unmanliness, how easy it was to knock him down, laugh at what a sissy he was. And this hurt the most. It boiled and bubbled, it stung and it cut through him: Sveen had seen his humiliation, seen them unveil him in all his wretchedness, his spinelessness. And Sveen had evaporated like steam, beyond all reach, and he had left a hole, a crater where the boy”s soul should be, but where some dark and terrible creature had moved in. A creature that bared its teeth and howled at the moon.

He gripped the edge of the basin, leaned in and spat a glob of spit at his mirrored face. And with tears silently running down his cheeks, he licked the spit off the mirror, then sank to his knees and closed his fingers around his hopeless, vicious and irresistible cock and felt it grow in his hand.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 2

Troms� 1982

 

 

Winter came early that year, two days of heavy snowfall in the middle of October froze Sander into lethargy. His life had changed since the incident with the boy in the hallway. His friendship with Fred suffered. An unwelcome streak of hesitation had sneaked into Sander”s dealings with his friend. He took great care not to touch Fred, not to look at him that way, keep all kinds of feelings in check. On the surface they might have passed for the same old chums, but Sander was conscious of a major difference in his outlook: Spontaneity gave way to premeditation, whims lost to logic, even calculation. There was a darkness and a heaviness in him that he just could not overcome, a darkness that felt as thick and viscous as tar, and that he could not get rid of. Nor could Fred, even though he did his best.

The rest of his friends, or maybe they had better be termed acquaintances, gave up on him, all but Beate. She was the new girl at the public library, he had met her one late night at a disco. They were both drunk, and she had tried to seduce him. But instead of hostility, her lack of luck with him became the start of a friendship. And a relief for Sander, who now had an audience to whom he could vent his frustrations concerning his rapidly growing depression, his unrequited love for Fred, and his nonsensical hang-ups about the boy in the hallway. He told her the story several times, blamed the boy for disturbing his relationship with Fred, accused the boy of depriving him of both his sleep and his tranquility.

Friday it stopped snowing, Sander and Beate were out on the streets after the last show at the movies, arguing amiably whether to have a beer, go dancing or call it a night. The disco with the best music was at the south end of the main street, they decided in favor of it. The shortcut from the cinema was through the street where Sander rented the first floor of a small, old wooden townhouse, and they thought they”d just have a drink at his place before going out. Two blocks from the cinema they became aware of a person on his hands and knees in the bank of snow from the plowing truck, the person”s back was heaving like he was vomiting. They crossed the street to avoid him. But as they were passing him on the other side, the person seemed to break in two, and fell down with his face in the snow and his ass in the air.

Sander heard Beate whisper Oh, no, and she ran over to the human heap, put her arms around his chest and hoisted him up. It seemed to be a young boy, and Sander could see he was way to unsteady and way to poorly dressed to be out on the streets in the cold, and was busy planning what was the best thing to do with him as he crossed over after Beate. She turned him around, and the recognition stung Sander like a knife. The boy had his hair cut short, probably why Sander hadn”t identified him right away. He had scratch marks on his forehead and a red bruise on his cheekbone, his shirt was torn, the buttons ripped out and the facing hung in tatters, his breath came out in short gasps. He smelled of alcohol, but not of puke. His teeth chattered.

“We gotta get him in somewhere, we can”t leave him here! He”ll freeze to death!” Beate said, ever the emphatic one. “We”ll take him to your place!”

Sander protested, hadn”t they better take him to the police station? Or the ER? But Beate”s northern stubbornness prevailed, and actually it made sense to get him inside somewhere, and Sanders place was just one block away. He just had to swallow his unwillingness to be caught up with this boy again. He couldn”t be so selfish right now, the kid needed help. They took hold of one of his arms each. The boy looked up, saw Sander”s face and started to weep. Sander let go of his arm and put his arm around his waist instead, squeezed him lightly and rhythmically a few times for comfort, then he saw a black woolen cap in the snow and picked it up. Together Beate and he managed to maneuver the boy along, he shivered like a leaf. At the door the kid made a sharp movement to get away, but he doubled over in pain. Sander thought it just as well to lift him up and carry him up the stairs, struck by how slight he was, and how helpless. Something inexplicable and unwanted stirred in Sander”s stomach.

He put the boy down on the couch. Beate sat down next to him, her fingers softly explored the scratches and bruises on his face.

“He”s been beaten up!” She turned to the boy again. “Who did this to you?”

The boy didn”t look at her, his eyes sought Sander”s. “Please”, he whispered. “Please …” Sander came tentatively closer.

“Thomas”, he said. “Tell us who did this.

The boy shook his head, closed his eyes. Beate turned to Sander, wild eyes wide open. Thomas? she mimed, the boy in the hallway? Sander nodded. She turned back to the boy.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

He touched the side of his stomach. Just like that Beate pulled his shirt and T-shirt out of his jeans and up. There was another bruise across his left ribs. She cautiously felt his pale, concave stomach up to his ribcage. He grimaced.

“My jacket. They stole my jacket”, he wheezed. Sander put a blanket over him, tucked him lightly in. The boy inhaled, deeply and shakily.

 

“We need to get him home”, Sander said. “Or to the hospital, what do you think? Where do you live, Thomas?”

The boy lifted one hand, rose halfway, but fell back again. His teeth still chattered.

“No”, he pleaded, “Not home. Leave me alone.”

He hid his face against the back of the couch, threw the blanket off, grabbed his shirt, pulled it down and held it there. Sander put the blanket back over him, went into the kitchen and signaled for Beate to follow. He closed the door behind them. What now? There had to be a reason why he wouldn”t be taken home, but what if he had internal injuries? And shouldn”t this be reported? Right away? Wait until morning? Could they risk letting him calm down a bit and listen to what he himself wanted?

When they came back, he was lying as they left him, but his breathing was more stable. Sander put on some music, very low, and stood by the couch to feel himself slowly fill up with an aching tenderness, and something that felt like sorrow. Poor kid.

Beate sat talking to him in a low voice.

“Don”t worry. We”ll take care of you, no one”s gonna hurt you. Wanna talk? What can we do for you? Take you to the ER? Won”t you please tell us what”s happened?”

He stirred, drew his knees up in a fetal position. With one hand he began to caress the back of his head. He snuffled a little:

“Can I please stay here … just a little while?”

 

“Sure. We”ll call your parents. To let them know where you are.”

“There”s no one there. I can get home on my own. Later.”

Beate saw how Sander was totally at a loss, completely incapable of handling the situation, so she quickly took control. Told sander to get some dry clothes, got the boy up and off the sofa, accompanied by short moans, and led him to the bathroom. Closed the door behind them, and soon Sander heard water running.

She stuck her head out.

“Clothes, please? Someone kicked him or hit him hard in his back, he”s all over bruises. But no ER, no police. He”s adamant! So I don”t know, maybe the best thing is for him to just stay for a while? And get him a hot drink, okay?”

At last she came out with him in tow, wearing a much to large sweater and a pair of pants bahçeşehir escort that dangled loosely on him. There was something so heartbreakingly young and miserable about his whole appearance, his neck bent, his eyes downcast, no resistance or will as Beate led him back to the couch. He refused the cup of tea Sander had put on the table, so Beate put him down like a baby and tucked him in. She sat down with Sander, like they would sit in the waiting hall at a train station, or in church the minute before the organ set off, or at a death bed. The boy turned from them, curled up and went to sleep.

Beate left shortly after. Sander sat there the remainder of the night, nodded off every now and then, and each time he woke with a start, the boy was the first thing he saw.

Everything has its beginning. Every change has its origin. Who”d have known that the biggest upheaval in Sander”s life would start here: His first, and for a long, long time the only night with Thomas, the boy in the hallway.

 

 

_______________________________________________________________

 

 

Sander � the short movie. 2018

Scene 1

Churchyard, early noon, partly clouded sky.

Balding older man sits on gravestone, elbows on knees, hands folded in front of him. Lips moving. Watched by bearded younger man five graves away, toddler trudging at his feet. Labrador puppy on leash scampering about.

Toddler flops down, starts to eat earth. Bearded younger man takes two hurried steps, bends over, picks toddler up, loses leash. Puppy storms over to balding older man, upsets urn with lilies, wags its tail eagerly, sits down and pees on the grave.

Bearded younger man runs over, grabs the leash, apologizes shamefacedly, runs off and leaves the churchyard, toddler under his arm. Balding older man remains seated. Slowly picks up the lilies, replaces them. There is no water left in the urn.

 

Scene 2

Coffeeshop, outside, late noon, glimpses of sun.

Balding older man sits close to wall, away from others, glass of Latte in front of him, distant look. Starts from a splash. Pidgeon dropping runs down the inside and outside of glass.

Balding older man gets up, disgusted, and leaves.

 

Scene 3

Kitchen, early evening, rain pouring outside window.

Balding older man in front of stove, pieces of chicken in frying pan. Two steps to the right, picks up can of pineapple chunks and can opener. Can slips, falls to the floor, rolls over under table.

Balding older man bends down, something snaps at the small of his back, falls down on his knees, gasps with pain. Stays there. Tries to get up, falls down. Crawls on all fours out, through hall, into bedroom, opens drawer, rummages for painkillers. Gets halfway up, falls across bed on his stomach.

Penetrating wailing sound. Balding older man rolls off bed, crawls back to kitchen full of smoke, turns stove off, reaches for frying pan, frying pan tips over, falls down, charred pieces of chicken all over floor. Balding older man grabs edge of table, supports himself doubled over to window, opens it. Smoke alarm keeps wailing. Balding older man is lying flat on top of table, swearing, swearing.

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

Troms� 1982

 

In spite of the boy”s wishes, Sander did report the incident.

The boy was shy and muted when he woke up, and Sander could easily see he was in pain. The bruise on his cheekbone was changing color, he would have a spectacular shiner within long. Sander tried to question him a little, but Thomas was mostly reticent. By and by he timidly disclosed some bits of information: His mother would be back later that day. He would tell her he”d had a bad fall. The bruises on his back? She never looked at his body any more. No, he wouldn”t say who had beat him up. No, he didn”t want the police.

Sander refrained from pressing him further, even though questions were teeming in him, and not just about the night before. The boy”s clothes were dry, and Sander lent him a coat, told him to give it back at a convenient time, no rush. Followed him to the door. The boy looked anxiously up at Sander, but quickly looked down again. Gave Sanders a hurried handshake and said: “Thank you.” Then he was gone.

Sander remained by the closed door, listening to the sound of his footsteps: Da-dunk, da-dunk, da-dunk, limping down the stairs. There was a huge lump in his chest, he wanted to run after him, hold him, whisper comforting words in his ear, blow away the hurt. When the street door slammed shut, he made up his mind and went to the police.

At the station he tried to put the case forward as generally as he could: He had seen the results of an assault, what was the possible procedure? He knew that what he had was meager: No names. No medical report. No witnesses to the actual happening. No victim willing to come forward. He was met with apologies and hands spread out. Unless the victim would report the crime, nihil. Nada. Forget it.

Well, at least he had tried something, not just sat there twiddling his thumbs, tutting and condemning the evils of the world. Good for you, Sveen.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

In his corner again, black book in his lap:

Sunday. How can it get worse?

Shirked church, mum is furious, I CAN”T TAKE MUCH MORE NOISE! I”m NOT going to hell for skipping church once and sporting a black eye, am I? Why can”t she just STOP?

I don”t believe in God anymore, not if it”s God that makes her so horrible. I HATE HER I HATE HER I HATE HER. Can I please exchange her for someone nice? Someone who doesn”t make me feel so small and so frightened?

God, what if she could read my mind. What if she found out what I think. What I AM. No one must know. NO ONE!

PLEASE GOD SEND ME BACK TO HAMAR!!!!!

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

Oslo, August 1989

 

Sander is rummaging through stored papers and old stuff in his attic box room. He should have something here, some old lists, addresses, a note with a phone number, he couldn”t have thrown it all out in frustration or rage?

At last he finds the carton box with old references and reports. Among them is a list of students with half term grades from 82. He folds it and put it in his pocket. Under the papers, Umberto Eco”s The Name of the Rose, a book he has been looking for for ages. He picks it out of the box. And at the bottom is his old diary. Just two entries, painfully maudlin rantings about his hopeless love for Fred, and a faded polaroid of him and Fred, windblown on the wharf. He remembers the day.

There is something else sticking out at the back of the diary. A strip of four photos from a photobooth: Thomas making faces. He lifts the strip to his cheek and holds it there, and his sudden, almost unbearable loneliness tears pieces from his heart. And he knows what he needs to do.

 

 

Troms�, August 1989

 

His plane lands on schedule at Langnes airport. A taxi takes him into town, to the hotel where he has booked a room, a neutral and cheap hotel that holds no memories. He watches the buildings as they pass, some have been demolished and new ones put up, old familiar shops have new names and newly painted facades, what did he expect? Nothing stays the same.

The room is exactly what he wants: White, bare, long and narrow, single bed. A nothing room in a nothing hotel. He throws his bag on the bed, takes out his list of names. Reads thorough them again and feels the futility of his mission. Oh hell, what a totally idiotic idea. What are the chances any of these kids are still here? And if he manages to find any of them, will they know anything of Thomas? 5 years since they all graduated!

But his heart sings that he has to see the city again, has to go through with his plans no matter the outcome. He is on a pilgrimage.

The arctic night is getting darker, but still uncommonly warm. He is consumed by an urge to get out of the hotel. He roams the streets, his feet know the direction. Round the corner. The house is still there. The door is painted grey. He stops at a distance and feels his anger, his loss, and his regrets fill him to the brim.

 

Troms� 1982

Three days passed, and the boy came back with the coat.

Sander, coming back from a rushed trip to the supermarket for bread and milk, saw the boy the minute he rounded the corner, he stood stamping the snow on the sidewalk, the streetlamp casting a glow over him. He wore a slightly too small, beige duvet jacket, Sanders coat slung over his arm. Closer, Sander saw how the blue and purple bruise had spread out and sat like a map of Africa from his eye to his cheek. He felt something hectic and untidy take hold of him, like he needed to escape from something he really did not want to escape from. He hurried over, frantically searching for what to say. Had the boy been there for long? Was he cold? And would he excuse him for being absent? Like it was Sander”s fault the boy had had to wait. And there was no rush with the coat. He realized he was babbling. The boy said nothing, just held the coat out as if he wanted this to be over.

“Please, won”t you come up? I want to know what”s happened since I last saw you. You look better. Except for that.”

Sander pointed to his cheek. The boy snorted and his lips curled into a short, timid smile. Sander could almost feel his ambivalence: Should he go in with Sander, or should he get away fast? Sander quickly unlocked the door, grabbed the boy by the elbow and pulled him inside before he had time to make up his mind.

Upstairs the boy kicked off his boots in the narrow hall, but kept his outdoor jacket on. He followed Sander hesitantly into the livingroom, but stopped right inside the door. His eyes wavered around the room, as if searching for something unproblematic to fasten on.

Sander started his questioning immediately. They boy first seemed reluctant to answer, but finally thawed a little bit. Yes, he”d had to explain himself to his mum, especially what had happened to his clothes. He had insisted that he had slipped and fallen, and had forgotten his jacket at a friend”s house and had borrowed another friend”s coat. He wasn”t sure whether she believed him or not, but she had other things to rave about, so she had stopped prying. For every small admittance, he took one tiny step into the room. And suddenly the most important thing in the world to Sander was to keep him there.

“Thomas. Sit down, please.”

He sat down gingerly at the edge of the nearest chair. Sander continued:

“I have to confess something. I know you didn”t want me too, but I talked to the Police after you left. There”s nothing they can do unless you report to them.”

The boy”s brows drew up with worry. He sighed.

“It”s not as easy as that. It would only make things worse.”

Sander wanted to easy the situation. He brought out a bottle of Coke and glasses, found a bag of chips, and started to rummage for the peanuts he knew he had somewhere. The boy broke into his restless search.

“It”s not the first time. It happens a lot. It was the same where I used to live before we came here.”

 

“Really? Oh!”

 

“It”s my own fault. That they don”t like me. You know?”

Sander wondered if he should start to argue this, remind the boy the ground ethics of human dealings and the objectional behavior of bullies, but then, he was sure this boy knew all he had to say already. Change of direction.

“Were these the same guys that hit on you at school last week?”

The boy didn”t answer. Try another door, Sander.

“You smelled of booze. Were you drunk? That wasn”t very smart, was it?”

 

“They forced my mouth open and poured it into me. Then they held my nose and I had to swallow or choke to death.”

To Sander, a woolly picture began to grow clearer, a sequence of images starting in the school yard and ending in the snow bank on the sidewalk.

“Thomas, there”s something I don”t get. Why do you say it”s your own fault?”

And like a dripping faucet, little admissions seeped out of him: He was afraid of fighting, he didn”t know how to. He sucked at sports. He wore the wrong clothes. He belonged to the Pentecostal Church. Well, at least his mother did. He spoke with the much despised southern accent. He liked stuff the other guys didn”t: reading, singing, drawing. They thought him a sissy. They called him girl”s names. So. They had imprinted on him that he was worthless.

Sander bled for him as he watched him. Saw the now familiar fingering of the back of his head, saw him open up his face, like he was slowly untying a knot, starting to become more like the unconcerned boy that first had accosted Sander at the concert. But then he abruptly closed up again, became unsettled and fidgety, and rose. Walked out to his boots. Sander followed.

How it came to happen, was an enigma to Sander. But the hall was tiny, they were all of a sudden almost too close. And then the boy”s lips unexpectedly grazed Sander”s, like a brush of wind. And the tip of his tongue followed the outline of Sander”s upper lip. Sander had to pull himself together, gripped the boys shoulders and held him at arm”s length.

“Do you actually know what you”re doing?”

The boy had his eyes closed, tongue against his front teeth, head bent back, and then he whispered:

“I so know what I”m doing.”

As from a snap of fingers in his brain, Sander lost all caution and all reservations, he pulled the boy into his arms and kissed him deeper and hungrier than he”d ever kissed anyone. He pressed the boy up against clothes that hung on the wall, wanted to plunder his mouth, to devour him, bore himself into him until they were a symbiosis that nobody could ever separate. The boy whimpered and moaned, and Sander sobered. He was hurting the boy. The boy had bruises all over him. He had to let go. Didn”t want to, but had to. He brushed his finger softly across the boys bruised face, and the question he until then hadn”t dared to ask popped up in his head.

“Remember what you asked me the first time I spoke to you? In the hallway? What was the meaning behind that?”

The boy twisted away from him. Cast his eyes down.

“You were … you are … you and him, you were my … fantasy.”

He slid out the door, closed it behind him. Sander heard his footsteps down the stairs. But suddenly the boy turned, ran haltingly back up, tore the door open, and caught his breath.

“Can I please come back?”

His soft voice rubbed against Sander”s spine like a cat against a trouser leg. His reasoning and his words were long gone, he could only nod. The boy was off before Sander got his thoughts back, and then only one: Oh shit. You”re for it now.

 

 

(To be continued)

 

 

 

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Subject: Ashton and Noah Chapter III Ashton and Noah Chapter III Before we begin, let’s get the necessary stuff out of the way. This story (maybe not necessarily this chapter) will contain scenes of sex between a minor and adult. If that offends you, you’re free to leave. If it’s prohibited to read such things because of location/age/whatever you’re free to leave. If you’re okay with that, keep reading. Nifty needs your help to continue. Feel free to give `til it hurts! Also, your kind words are the only payment us Nifty authors receive. This story is the property of the author, (me), who gives Nifty a license to display the story. This story is not to be displayed on any other website. All rights reserved. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s get on with the show! When I had fallen asleep with Noah in my arms, I was warm and happy. I could only hope he felt the same way. However, waking up was a different story. Rather, being woken up. A loud burst of cannon fire jolted me awake. I bolted upright, and then rolled off the bed, taking cover. The cannon fired again. This time, with my head clearing, I realized it was accompanied by music. Apparently Noah was blasting the “1812 Overture” on my stereo. After another blast of cannon fire, the volume abruptly dropped. He must have found the volume control. Picking myself up off the floor, I decided to attend to an important matter of business. When I was done in the bathroom, I headed downstairs to attend to Noah. The “1812 Overture” had given way to the “Tannhauser Overture” He was lounging on the couch. No, he was pretty much sulking on the couch, his face contorted in a scowl, his feet up on the Tony Montana glass coffee table. I decided to be gentle. “Hey there. Good morning, Noah. I hope you’re feeling better.” “I’m not no fag,” he said, glaring at the stereo as if it had somehow offended him. “I never said you were,” I said, sitting down in an easy chair. “I don’t like the idea of having a dick up my ass,” he grumped. “It sounds like a real pain in the ass. I don’t see much point to it. Don’t you get your dick all covered in shit? Why would anyone want to put their dick in a hole where shit comes out?” “You’re losing me, Noah. I’m not sure what your point is, and why you’ve brought this up.” I was trying to figure out what was going on here and how to keep him from exploding and walking out again. “You have sex with guys. You were engaged to one once. Everyone knows it. You haven’t hidden it at all. Now, I show up, we shower because I’m a pussy and scared, and then you get hard, and for some damn reason, I get hard as well. I even stroked my cock! I wasn’t thinking clearly and now we’re going to have sex!” Through sheer force of will, I was able to keep my cock from getting hard. I wanted to have sex with Noah. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair, kiss his soft looking lips, cup and squeeze his beautiful bubble butt and suck his cock until he orgasmed while in my mouth. “We don’t have to have sex. If we did, I’d get into a lot of trouble if we got caught. I prefer to have sex with people over 18, so we’re both consenting adults.” I said this gently to try and ease his mind. “Just because we showered together doesn’t mean that we have to have sex. There’s a difference between making someone feel warm and safe and having sex. I’d never dream of making you do anything you wouldn’t want to do. Forcing you to have sex with me is rape, and I’m not that kind of person. I’m a smart responsible guy. If I can’t find someone to have sex with, I know how to use my hand.” That got a small smile from Noah. “Ashton,” he said, “I get so much hate from people at school because I don’t have a girlfriend, or anyone to date. Not that there’s much of a choice. It’s a small school. So many people in town can be narrow minded and straight laced when it comes to sex. Guy on guy sex is a taboo here.” “Noah, you’re a kid. You don’t need to have a girlfriend or a boyfriend to enjoy life. Just a friend. You need you be able to enjoy being a kid, enjoy growing up, enjoy not having adult responsibilities or adult problems.” He looked at his hands as if they were entertaining. I looked at my own hands because I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by looking at him too long. “I’ve never even been kissed yet. It’s so embarrassing when other kids I go to school with have been kissed and I haven’t.” “You’re worrying about it too much,” I said gently. “You don’t need to be kissed right away. It’ll happen when it happens. No need to rush it. Your first kiss should be something that’s romantic, makes you happy, and worth remembering.” “Do you remember your first kiss?” I thought back. I could remember every detail. “It was with a guy named Javier. It was in the parking garage of a hospital. We were teens. I remember that he had whiskers that kind of scratched me as we kissed. We even did a bit of French kissing. Our arms were around each other, and I felt like I was walking on a cloud.” “That sounds nice,” he admitted. “So, assuming if I kiss you, your goatee would scratch me?” “I don’t think it would. When it’s stubble, my facial hair is scratchy. But my goatee is actually soft and not at all painful.” He looked at me, with kind of a nervous glimpse. “Can…can I touch it?” “Of course. It’s only a goatee. It’s not like you’re banging on a nuclear weapon with a sledgehammer.” “I’m sorry,” Noah said nervously. “It’s just…” “It’s okay. I don’t judge and I won’t make you feel like an ass,” I said to reassure him. He got up, and walked over to where I was sitting. Tentatively, he stretched out his hand, and gently touched my goatee. “It is soft like you said,” Noah murmured. He was gently my facial hair, and I was relishing in his soft hand touching my face. “All my life, I’ve had soft facial hair when it’s grown.” “All my life I’ve never known anyone with facial hair. Everyone at the store is clean shaven. It’s for sanitary reasons.” He sat on my leg, caressing my face. I could feel my pulse. It was like my heart was pounding in my throat. No close contact with anyone had made me feel like this. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and make out with him. I could feel my cock start to harden and demand to be touched and stroked. Noah jumped up like he’d been shocked. I was so into him touching me that I hadn’t realized that my cock had been pressing against him. He stalked back to the couch and sat down. I cleared my throat. “Sorry about that, Noah. It’s an automatic reaction. My dick’s got a mind of its own. I can’t control it. Close contact, and bam! It gets hard, and won’t go down until I’ve got its mind on other things.” Noah shot me a look, but I couldn’t interpret it. “Kind of like mine. It always gets hard and then I have to masturbate and cum like two or three times before it goes soft.” “I remember being your age. I had to jerk it three or four times a day just to keep my dick happy.” I hoped that talking about something exciting like jerking off would help soften his mood. “Remember last night in the shower, when I told you I’d seen dicks on the internet before?” He looked at me again. “Yeah, I remember,” I said, my heart fluttering at remembering his naked body. “I’ve always looked at straight porn on the internet because that’s what society thinks is normal. But…” he trailed off. “It’s okay. Go on,” I said gently. “But…I’ve never been into women’s bodies. They’re nice to look at, I guess, but I’ve always found myself looking more at the dicks on guys or at their asses and ball sacks.” “Despite what society says about what’s normal, they don’t know jack shit about what’s normal for you.” Noah smiled at this. Not his usual million dollar smile, but it was enough to make me think I was on the right track. “It doesn’t matter what you look at for pleasure, so long as it’s not illegal. I mean, one of my friends took magazines from his step dad, and it was straight porn. We looked at them and jerked off together. He didn’t care I liked looking at the guys more than he liked looking at the women. I didn’t force myself on him, or make başakşehir escort him feel uncomfortable because I preferred guys over girls. I tried to be interested in girls, but I could never feel about them the way he felt about girls.” “So, it’s normal for a guy to like guys?” Noah asked. “It’s perfectly normal, Noah. There are guys who like girls. There are girls who like guys. There are girls who like girls, and there are guys who like guys. It’s absolutely perfectly fine if for any of that to happen.” He looked at me, tears in his eyes. I could tell they were tears of gratitude because he was smiling and looking happy. “Thanks, Ashton. You’ve made plenty of things clear. It’s not something that’s easy to talk about because it’s not an easy subject.” He got up, and surprised me by giving me a hug. I wrapped my arms around him, and hugged back. Then I was really surprised when he gently placed his lips on mine and kissed me. I wanted to make this special for him. I wanted him to remember this moment for years to come. I drew him closer to me, and gently placed my hand on the back of his neck. His tongue probed my lips and I parted them. I felt his hot slick tongue probe my mouth and touch my own tongue. Noah moaned in pleasure, and I echoed it. It was one of the best kisses I’d ever received. I did my best to make sure it was the best kiss Noah had ever received. My cock was throbbing against my shorts, and as he drew even closer to me, I could feel Noah’s own erection, rubbing against me. Finally, he pulled back, breathing heavy. “Oh my god,” he gasped. “That was so awesome. I could never imagine a kiss could feel so wonderful!” “Yeah, kisses and cuddles are great.” I agreed. “Is sex even better?” I should have expected the question, but I didn’t. “Well, sex is indeed enjoyable, for the top and bottom. It helps if you do things that you know your partner likes,” I said carefully. “Ash, you’re a good looking guy. You’ve shown me more love and care and respect than I’ve received from my own father. Since you’re not a family member, I want to have sex with you. After you left the store yesterday, my heart did a little leap every time I thought of you. I biked to your place because I wanted to see you again.” I was stunned. This beautiful blonde haired, blue eyed twelve year old wanted to have sex? With me, no less! When I was his age, I would have fucked anything with an asshole. I wanted him to understand things, and having all my blood currently in my cock didn’t help matters. “Noah…I would love to have sex with you. You’re a beautiful boy. You’re gorgeous. You’re adorable, and have a great body. But I’m an adult, you’re a minor. If I had sex with you, consensual or not, I’d be in a lot of trouble. Sure, you could say we didn’t do anything illegal, but the people with the badges and in the courts would have the weight of their law on their side.” “I promise, Ashton. I’d never tell on you about what we might do together.” He placed his hands on my chest, then ran then under my shirt and massaged my chest a bit. It was quickly becoming clear who would win this battle. It was two against one. Beautiful Noah and my traitorous cock against me. One thought was clear in my mind. “I would love to get naked and do things with you, Noah, but we can’t have sex right away,” before I could finish my thought, he broke in. “Is it because of me? Is there something wrong with me? My height? My cock size? I can’t control those things!” “Nonononono!” I exclaimed. “You’re beautiful and perfect in every way. It’s your hole, Noah. You’re young, and your ass is small. It needs stretching and preparation before we can have sex.” “But we can kiss and things without it?” he asked, looking me in my eyes. I looked back into his beautiful blue eyes and nodded. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me up to my feet, and up to my bedroom. He laid on the bed, and beckoned me to come close. “Be gentle with me,” he whispered in my ear. “It’s my first time doing anything like this.” “Beautiful, wonderful, and perfect Noah. There is no way I’d mistreat you, especially in a precious and special moment such as this.” After whispering this in his ear, I kissed it. I moved my way down. I kissed his neck, his cheek, and back to his soft and full lips. He moaned as I kissed his lips, and then removed his shirt. I gently kissed his throat and then the space in between his nipples. Kissing my way around his torso, I avoided the fresh bruises and the ones that were fading. I kissed my way down to his belly and went back up again. My hand went to between his legs, and fondled his cloth covered cock. Looking down, I could see it was straining to escape and be free. Noah ran his hands up my arms and all over my back. He buried his face into my neck and moaned in happiness. He kissed my neck and then moved and gently rubbed my chest through my shirt. I quickly removed my shirt and shorts and then after I untied the draw string, I pulled Noah’s shorts off. He lifted his butt to help me out. Lying beside him the red head of my cock was resting on his thigh. His own four inch erect cock was pointing straight up. Rolling onto his side, he looked at me, eyeing me up and down. “You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you, Ashton.” “I love you too, Noah.” saying that, I knew that it was true. I loved him. I’d do anything for him. I leaned over and tongued his nipple. Gently, I took it into my mouth, and began sucking and gently biting it. He sighed in happiness and weaved his fingers in my hair with one hand. With the other, he reached over and took hold of my hand. I moved to his other nipple, and began licking and sucking it. His breathing increased as I gave him more and more pleasure. I kissed my way down his torso again, and stopped just before I reached his throbbing cock. “please, suck it” he begged me in a hoarse voice. Wanting to comply, but also wanting to delay the pleasure a little bit longer, I moved and kissed the insides of his thighs, and then licked his ball sack which was hanging loose. Gently, I took one of his testicles into my mouth, and sucked. Noah groaned in happiness and pleasure. I let out a moan of my own, and took the other into my mouth. After his balls were sufficiently sucked, I licked his hard throbbing shaft. “Oh, Ash, that feels really good! Don’t stop” Noah gasped, thrusting his hips into the air. I wrapped my free hand around the hard shaft, and stroked him a few times before wrapping my lips around his dick and I began sucking. I didn’t show any finesse. This was just pure love and lust. Slurping noises emanated from my mouth as I worked his shaft deeper and deeper into my mouth as I kept sucking that beautifully hard dick. I swirled my tongue around on his sensitive head, and was rewarded with more thrusting and moaning. I could easily take all four inches into my mouth, and I did so, my nose pressing against the as yet, hair-free pubic area. I alternately sucked and licked his dick. I reached around, and wormed my hand between his body and the bed spread. I cupped and squeezed his beautifully soft ass cheek. It wasn’t too long before he was moaning my name, and thrusting into my mouth as his orgasm wracked his body. I could feel his dick throb in my mouth as Noah had his dry orgasm. Crawling back up to be face to face with him, his eyes were half closed as he enjoyed his post orgasm bliss. I wrapped my arms around him, and brought him close. I kissed his forehead and then his lips. A few moments later, I felt his hand wrap around my still erect cock. He gave it a few experimental strokes and then looked into my eyes. I nodded, and he began kissing my chest. He fingered and rubbed my nipples and then he worked his way down to my cock. He stroked it a few more times. “What’s this stuff coming out? Is it cum? Did you cum already?” Noah asked his voice curious. “No, that’s called precum. It happens when I get aroused and close to intimacy.” “Wow, your cock is positively dripping with it. Is it because of me?” he asked. “Yes, Noah. You drive me and my cock wild.” halkalı escort I could feel his tongue touching my engorged cock head, lapping up some of my pre. “It tastes nice,” Noah said. “I like it.” He continued to lick my cock and then he gagged as he tried to suck too much of it. “Easy, Noah. Take it slow, a bit at a time until you can get used to having something big and thick in your mouth.” He carefully inserted the head and about an inch into his mouth. Though it wasn’t much, it was one of the best blow jobs I’d ever had. Noah grasped my throbbing shaft with one hand and began jerking me as he sucked and licked the tip. Moaning in pleasure, I resisted the urge to thrust my cock into Noah’s mouth. I grabbed the back of his head and guided the pace of his mouth bobbing up and down on my cock. In a few minutes, I was close to orgasm, and stopped him. I pulled up face to face, and kissed him again. “Roll onto your stomach.” Obediently, Noah rolled onto his stomach. Trailing my hands down his smooth soft back, I ran my hands over his perfect bubble butt. I straddled him, and gently placed my cock between his ass cheeks. “This isn’t sex, but it’s as close as we can get.” I slow began thrusting, my cock sliding easily between his cheeks. They grabbed my cock as if they were made for it. Noah reached his hand back, and I took it in mine, squeezing it, telling him things I couldn’t tell him verbally. He squeezed back, responding to my thrusts and squeezes. I admired how his ass moved in time with my cock thrusting. With my free hand, I massaged his butt cheeks, admiring how smooth and soft it felt. My breathing got heaver as I got closer to orgasm. “Noah, I’m cumming. I’m going to cum,” I panted. Rolling over, Noah took hold of my cock, and began jerking it. After a few jerks, I came, shooting several ropes of hot white cum all over his beautiful chest. He kept jerking me, and milked my dick until there was nothing left. He slid down, and took my softening cock into his hot and eager mouth, and sucked me clean. I collapsed next to him completely spent. Noah swiped his fingers through the puddles of cum on his chest. Gently, he tasted one finger. “It tastes kind of salty, but it’s also kind of nice. I hope my own cum will taste just as good when I’m able to make it.” “I’m sure you will,” I said. Gently, he sucked on one cum covered finger. I leaned over and sucked another. When his fingers were clean, he leaned over and kissed me. I could taste my cum on his tongue. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up and have something to eat.” Nodding, Noah stood up and headed to the shower. I admired his ass for a second before getting up and joining him. Adjusting the shower to a nice warm temperature, we stepped in. We embraced again like we did the night before, but this time it was different. We kissed as the hot water cascaded over us, and ran our hands over the other’s body. I reached for the shampoo, and gently massaged it into his long blonde hair. He smiled through the suds, and I kissed his lips as the suds were rinsed away. Pushing me down a bit so it’d be easier for him, he applied some shampoo to my own hair. The suds swirled down the drain as he ran his fingers through my hair to help rinse it clean. Lathering up a wash cloth with some body wash, I gently scrubbed his chest so it was free of my cum. As I cleaned his body, I kissed each part. My favorite was kissing his cock and balls after I’d cleaned them. Smiling, Noah took the cloth from me, and scrubbed me clean, kissing as he went. When he finished, we embraced. Our cocks were hard again, and I reached down and began jacking our cocks together. Reaching around and pulling me closer to him, Noah began licking and kissing my nipples. I leaned down and began kissing and licking his neck. I didn’t want to leave any visible hickies. Within minutes, Noah was shuddering in my arms as his second orgasm rolled through him. His ecstasy pushed me over the edge, and I was bucking my hips, feeling my cock pulse as it shot out several ropes of sticky white cum. Gasping, we clung to each other until we’d recovered enough to stand on our own. I turned off the water, and grabbed a towel and gave him a rub down, being gentle with his cock which had returned to normal size. Taking a towel for himself, he rubbed me dry, and together we went into the bedroom again. “I’m going to need more clothes,” I said as I looked at what I had that was clean. “I didn’t plan on sharing my wardrobe with someone. Much less someone who’s smaller than me.” “There’s a town about twenty miles away. It has a mall with everything you’ll need for clothes and stuff,” Noah said beside me. “I can show you where it is. The store’s closed on Sundays so Fish won’t need me.” … Ninety minutes later, we had eaten, and were pulling into the parking lot of the mall. “Do you think they’ll be open?” Noah asked as we climbed out of my car. “It’s retail. They value money more than the downtime of employees. They’ll be open.” Resisting the urge to take him by the hand, we walked into the mall. Noah guided me to a directory of the mall. Scanning the list of stores available, I found one that would most likely have everything we needed. Quietly, so nobody could hear us as we walked towards the store, I said “Keep it cool, and don’t do anything that’ll get me into trouble. Call me Uncle Ashton. Everyone knows I don’t have kids of my own, so calling me dad would tip them off.” Nodding, Noah said “I understand, Uncle. It’ll be just another day of an uncle and his nephew together at the mall.” Walking into the store, we found that it had everything Noah needed if he’d be staying at my place. We found him socks, pants, and shirts that fit his frame. When we were browsing for underwear, he said he wanted to try on a pair of each kind to decide what suited him best. A sales associate guided him to the dressing rooms, and I stood nearby, browsing shirts for myself. “Psst. Hey, Uncle Ashton!” It took a second to register that I was being paged. I turned around until I saw Noah’s head poking out of the dressing room door. He beckoned to me with his index finger. I quickly hurried over to his dressing room, and he let me in. He was standing naked before me. Before I could appreciate his naked body, he spoke. “I don’t know what kind of underwear to pick. I like boxer briefs like yours, but I want your opinion.” He pulled on a pair of black briefs. His boner was obvious. It filled out the underwear nicely, but I wanted to see how everything looked before making the final choice. “That looks nice Noah, but I want to see everything.” Noah turned around, giving me a view of his perfect bubble butt and how the briefs caressed his sweet globes of flesh. “You just want to see me naked again, don’t you?” he said with a devilish grin. “Of course I do. But I also want to see you be properly clothed.” After he took off the briefs, I leaned in and gave his cock a few strokes. I kissed him to smother any moans he may have made. “With that kind of asking, I’ll do anything for you,” he breathed in my ear. He tried on boxers next, and then after some more stroking and kissing, he pulled on a pair of blue boxer briefs. “I like these the most,” he said, adjusting the waistband. “They do fit you better, and if you’re excited, it won’t show as much.” I cupped his crotch in my hand, and kissed his lips. I could feel his cock throb through the cloth. I could feel my own getting erect. I needed to get onto other matters or else we’d have sex in the dressing room. I wouldn’t mind that, but I didn’t want to get caught. “Get dressed. We’ll pay for everything you’ve got.” I said, handing him the shirt he’d borrowed from my closet. “You can change in the car so you’re wearing clothes that fit nicely.” Nodding, Noah got dressed. Clutching clothes close to our bodies to hide our obvious erections, we made our way to the counter to purchase everything. In the time it took to ring up and fold the clothes into bags, my erect cock had deflated. Noah looked at me and nodded and I knew that his dick had gone down as well. “Is that all?” Alice the şirinevler escort sales associate asked me. “Yeah, that’ll do for now, thanks.” “Your total is two hundred and seventy five dollars and twenty two cents, sir.” Tugging on my sleeve, Noah pulled me down so he could whisper into my ear. “I can’t pay you back. It’s too much to spend on me.” “It’s no problem. I can afford it. I love you, and want the best for you. You’re worth all this and more,” I whispered back. “I love you too, Ashton. Thank you.” Sliding my black American Express card across the counter, I began loading Noah up with the bags we’d accumulated from our shopping in the store. Signing the sales slip, I picked up the last of our bags, and we left the store. “So where now?” Noah asked me. “Water, thirty five liters. Carbon, twenty kilograms. Ammonia, four liters.” My phone was ringing. I plucked it from my pocket, and slid my thumb to answer the call, silencing Edward Elric’s recitation of the ingredients in the average adult human body. “Hey, Cyrus. Tell me you’ve got good news” I listened and smiled. It was good news indeed. Smiling at Noah, I pointed to another store we had to now go in because of the news. Frowning, he looked at me but obediently followed me into the store. It was a fine clothing store. Suits hung from racks. Ties and belts were organized by color. “Why do we need to shop for a suit?” Noah asked. “Suits, plural. We need to look sharp for tomorrow morning.” “What’s happening tomorrow?” Setting down our shopping, I gently nudged him so he could get measured and fitted for a suit. “I’ll tell you later. Get something dark, and I’ll pick out some ties and belts for us. When you’re finished, it’ll be my turn.” “Okay, Ashton. I trust you.” Browsing through their collection, I picked out a tie for myself, and a clip on for Noah. Collecting belts to add to our haul, I headed over to where Noah was being fitted and submitted myself to being measured. Luckily enough, our frames were the right size so we bought our black suits right off the racks. “Now, we can head to the car.” I said. Dumping our shopping in the trunk, and hanging the suits in the back, I continued. “Also, now I can tell you what that was about.” “Well, don’t hold back,” Noah said, buckling his seat belt. Buckling my own belt, I started the car. “Well, the state police have arrested your father for abuse. Also, there’s a seldom used state law that says that plaintiffs of a case that is handled by Social Services can have a judge fast track and determine where the minor or minors can be safely placed into the custody of a legal guardian appointed by the court, but said case must be handled in twenty four hours or less.” “What?” Noah was clearly perplexed. “Your dad’s in jail, and likely to remain so. Tomorrow there will be a hearing for a petition to make me your legal guardian. We wear the suits so we’ll look nice.” “Is that really going to happen? That’d be awesome!” Noah turned his face to me when I stopped at a light. I could see tears of happiness in his eyes. But as I looked, he became downcast. “Noah? What’s wrong?” I queried. “I don’t want to tell anyone about what’s happened to me. It’s…embarrassing. Having to sleep on a cot in the store, not having a proper bedroom at home. It’s really more of a corner of the floor to sleep in.” His voice shook. I remained silent until we were on the interstate and I didn’t need my right hand to shift gears. I took him by the hand. “Noah,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road, but ears and heart on the boy in the passenger seat. “I love you, and wouldn’t deliberately do anything to hurt you or make you do something you don’t want. But the thing is, the most compelling testimony will come from you. You’ll be able to convince the judge that your father is unfit to raise you. You’ll be able to convince the judge that I’m better suited to raise you.” “But what if they don’t believe me?” He sniffed. I could understand he was really scared. “I get that it can be intimidating and scary. But I promise you this. Endure this moment of unpleasantness, and things will be much better for you.” “I want you there,” Noah said firmly. “I’ll be there with you. I promise.” I pulled into the parking lot of a small medical clinic that was open every day. “Why are we here?” Noah asked me as I turned the car off. “Tipping the odds in our favor for tomorrow.” We walked in and were greeted by a friendly receptionist. I explained that Noah needed a complete physical check-up and that to help calm him, I’d submit to one as well. Everything went well until it was time to talk about immunizations. My shots were up to date. However, Noah hadn’t been to the doctor in several years, and as a result was missing several inoculations. “Will the shots hurt?” Noah fearfully asked. “They’ll hurt a little,” I admitted. But it’s a small price to pay for good health. “I’m doing fine as I am! I feel great! I don’t need shots!” Noah exclaimed. “Could I borrow a stethoscope?” I asked the doctor. “There’s a little thing I want to do to calm him down.” Wiping the stethoscope with alcohol pads, the doctor handed it to me. “Noah, come here.” I got him settled in my lap. “Put this on, and listen to my heart.” Noah plugged the ear pieces in, and taking his hand in mine, I placed the chest piece in his hand, and then placed it under my shirt and above my heart. “Can you hear it okay?” I asked him. I felt him nod. After a few moments, I could feel the tension ease out of his body. Gently removing an ear piece, I whispered in his ear. “Noah. I love you. You know that.” He nodded against my chest again. “I would never let anyone do you harm. My heart beats for you. It’s full of love for you. I know that getting some shots might seem scary, but it’s for the greater good. I know you feel perfectly fine, but it’s better to have them and not need them, then need them, and not have them. Do you understand?” Again, another nod against my chest. I replaced the ear piece and let him listen to a few more minutes. When I judged him to be hypnotized by listening to my heart, I nodded at the doctor and nurse. Working quickly, they gave him the necessary shots. Noah didn’t even notice. When they were finished, I rubbed his back to wake him up. “Okay, I’m ready,” he announced. “They’re already finished. Check your arm,” I said quietly. Looking at the Band-Aids on his arm, he looked surprised. “I didn’t even feel a thing. Are you sure they’re done?” “They sure are. Let’s pay, and get copies of your records. They’ll help us tomorrow.” “Okay, Ash. Thanks for everything. I owe you a lot.” Noah stood up, and took my hand and though I didn’t need help to stand, I allowed him to help me up. It was so nice to hold his soft hand in mine. Arriving back at the cabin, we unpacked, and Noah was heading to my bedroom to place his new clothes when I stopped him. “As much as I want to share a bed and a closet with you, if we’re to get visits from Social Services, it’s best if we put up a false front.” “What?” he looked puzzled. “You can sleep with me in my bed if you want, but you’ll have to put your clothes and other possessions in another bedroom. Use a different bathroom. I want to present all evidence that we’re sleeping in different rooms, and that we’re using our own different facilities.” “Oh. Okay.” Smiling his million dollar smile, Noah scampered off to a guest bedroom. I went to my bedroom and hung up my new suit. I stretched out on the bed, and thought of everything that had happened over the past few days, and everything that could happen over the next few days. Soon, Noah joined me, and snuggled up close to me. I kissed him, and closed my eyes. Yes. I was quite happy with how things were turning out. I could only hope that things went our way tomorrow. Well, that’s it for Chapter III. One scene of nudity, but there will be more in Chapter IV. As I said, it’ll be spread out over several chapters, both story and sex. Sorry it took so long, work decided to try to make me a casualty of 2016. Too much work, not enough time for writing. But enough of my griping. I’ll get to work on Chapter IV tomorrow. If all goes well, I’ll get it posted in a week or so. Thanks for waiting! Keep on reading! Questions? Comments? Smart remarks? Waffle recipes? The atomic weight of cobalt? Feel free to send me a message via ail

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Subject: M.A.R.C. Ch. 10 M.A.R.C. Warning: The following story is a work of fiction. It is a fantasy. It never happened, except in the author’s imagination. This story may contain sex between teenage boys, a man and a teenage boy or multiple male teens. The author does not encourage or condone sex between adults and little children. If you are underage, or this is illegal where you are, you already know what you’re supposed to do. Delete this file and find something else. If this kind of story turns you off, delete this file and find something else. If you’re looking for a story that has someone having sex in every other sentence, this one is not it. The author retains the copyright for this story. Placing this story on a commercial web site or in print without the authors permission is a violation of that copyright. Disclaimer: M.A.R.C. is in no way related to a certain movie character or characters of a similar age and construction and/or soon to be released sci-fi movie. Any and all similarities are purely coincidental. Comments to aol, pro and con and of a constructive nature, will be gratefully received and acknowledged, if possible. Flamers will be ignored. Near the end of Chapter Nine: It was a feast, as it always was at Ginny and Ralph’s. Marc was the topic of most of the conversation but they were very careful to avoid going too much in the direction of his parents. Mostly they wanted to know about him. I was nervous that he would be vague but the programing with background information had been up to the occasion. I must admit that I had also been a bit worried that the depth of our relationship might show. If it did, they never let on. As Marc helped clear and Ginny and I served up the blueberry pie ala mode, I noticed that the boy was wilting a bit. By the time we had finished desert he was nodding. Ralph chuckled. “Looks like you got one tired pup there John.” “Yup. He’s had a busy day. We both have.” “Well, you two run along then.” Ginny was being motherly. “A growing boy needs his sleep.” Little did she know, I thought, this is one boy that isn’t growing. It was the first time that I really realized why we’d have to move every two to three years. I was very comfortable and could have sat and chatted longer but she was right, so I got up. “Har there me bucko! What say we haul anchor and head for home port?” I got a sleepy; “Huh?” For my efforts. Ginny and Ralph chuckled. “Guys, thanks for a wonderful meal and a nice evening. Can we help clean up?” “No, no. Ralph and I can do it in a snap. You go on.” They both stood. Ginny gave me a hug and Marc, who staggered to his feet, got a smooch on the forehead. The boy yawned and smiled. “Thank you for dinner and it was nice meeting you.” We started off across the lawn and Marc slipped his arm around my waste and I put mine over his shoulders. I could hear Ginny back on their patio. “Look Ralph. Isn’t that sweet? They’re just right for each other.” I don’t think it was more than 10 minutes before both of us were in bed and out cold. It had been a long day. Chapter Ten – Sailing Lessons, new friends and a serious talk It was a beautiful early summer morning and as I lay on my side in bed looking out across the azure blue water, I tried to get a grip on the reality of things. Marc and I have had a few days to get to know one another. We are falling deeply in love and have had some exciting adventures. But now, I had to get back to managing my affairs which now included Marc’s affairs. Android or not, he still had to appear to the community as a real boy. A boy who has lost his parents and come to live with his Godfather. The consortium had provided funds to appear as insurance death benefits as well as an inheritance. They had provided all the background paperwork to substantiate his story and we had to keep up the front. “Oh my, back to work.” I sighed out loud. Then I heard the squeaky noises that Marc sometimes makes as he stretches himself awake. “Oohhh aaahhh eeeeeyyyyeeee.” He yawned. “What work?” I felt his warm hand glide along my back, over my side and around my chest as he snuggled up behind me. His morning erection found the crevice of my butt and fit neatly along it. He kissed me between the shoulder blades. “Oh, I’m sorry Marc. Did I wake you?” “That’s okay. I gotta pee anyhow.” He pushed against my bottom suggestively. “Yeah, I can tell.” I giggled. “What kind of work?” “I have been neglecting the responsibilities of both our financial affairs. I need a few hours on the computer and the phone. Oh, and I need to get you registered for school too.” “School?” His turn to giggle. “Now I gotta throw up, not pee.” He rolled away, climbed out of bed and padded into the bathroom. I heard him pee with a deep sigh of relief. It sounded too good, reminding me that I had the same need. I rolled out my side and passed him as he came back. I yawned and scratched my stomach. “Hey kid.” I called back to him as I started to pee. “That was nice with The Marshes last night.” “Yeah, I guess. They’re nice and all and the Bass was awesome but I felt sort of funny.” “How do ya’ mean?” “I don’t know. Sort of like when you know someone is watching you. Know what I mean?” I flushed and then rinsed my hands and thought to myself; Yeah, I know just what you mean. And that comment Ginny made to Ralph as we crossed the lawn on the way home. I turned off the water. “Yeah, I guess I know. Whacha want fer breakfast?” “We got Pop Tarts?” He asked but the look I got as I came back out said something else. “A cold day in hell,” I retorted. He was standing at the window looking out at the boat tied up in the slip. I stood behind him giving him a gentle neck massage. “Whatcha lookin’ at?” “Uncle John. I would like to have sailing lessons. Do they give them at the yacht club?” I cold knot formed in my stomach. It was his first effort to do something other than with me. Last night with the Marshes was one thing. I was there. For me this would be a big move but for him, as far as he knew, it was called getting on with life. “Sailing lessons? As with other kids?” I must have sounded nervous because he turned and looked at me. “Yeah, why not? It’ll be fun and maybe I’ll make a friend or two. You’re not going to be over protective are you? That’s what my Dad always used to say to my Mom.” The image of that launch boy checking out Marc’s butt was flashing like a neon sign in my head. “Huh? Me? No, no. I guess not. I mean, well, sure. Sounds like a good idea.” He reached up and patted me on the shoulder with a laugh. “Yeah, right. I can hear the excitement başakşehir escort in your voice.” “Okay, okay. Tell you what.” I lifted his chin and gave him a quick kiss. “Let’s get washed up and dressed and I’ll run out to get the paper and some fresh raspberry Danish while you make coffee.” “And?” “And, after breakfast we can walk over to the club and sign you up.” My courage was rewarded with a big hug, a longer and wetter kiss and a thank you. “This will be so cool. Thanks Uncle John.” He stopped and gave me a look of concern. “You wont be lonely or worried, will you?” I tickled him under the arm. “Yes, of course I will be but I’ll survive. Now, let’s get a move on!” He spoke up over his shoulder as he headed for his room to wash-up and get dressed. “Okay. Don’t forget the golf lessons too. They’re coming up in a few days aren’t they?” “Oh yeah. That’s right.” I shouted over the water running in his bathroom. “With all the excitement of the boat and storm and then going to the Marshes, I had forgotten.” We both were early risers and so, it was only 8:30 a.m. when we finished the delicious Danish and lousy coffee. I was kind but made a mental note to add coffee making lessons to the schedule. The club was just a short distance. We walked it and got there about ten of nine. The bulletin board had a schedule of activities for the week and there was a juniors sailing class at 9:30 a.m. I suspected that these classes had been booked for a while so I’d have to do some persuading. “Marc, I have to go in to the office. Why don’t you see if you can find where the class meets and then meet me back here in say 5 or 10 minutes?” “Okay.” He made a beeline for the docks and I, for the office. The secretary was an elderly lady who started out by saying, in a very snippy tone, that the classes had closed 3 weeks ago. “I’m sorry but your son will have to wait until after the July 4th regatta and the new classes start.” I wanted to snip right back at her but restrained myself. “Ma’am, I wonder if we could maybe make an exception. Please give me a moment to explain.” By the time I had filled her in on the circumstances of the fire and Marc’s losing his parents and all, she had come around. “I thank you for understanding. I am trying to make his life as normal as possible.” It wasn’t really a lie, just a subterfuge. “This is a big step for the boy and I very much appreciate it.” I signed Marc up and filled out the releases. Just as I came out of the office Marc came running up. He was almost in tears. “The kid teaching says the class is full!” I held out the enrollment form for him to see and his look of disappointment melted away. “Okay boy. Take me to the teacher.” I was terrified that it was the launch boy but of course it wasn’t. It was a pretty blond girl of about 17 and she was surrounded by a dozen excited kids of whom Marc would clearly br the oldest. Her name was Linda and when she started to say that the class was full, I took her aside and explained. “But,” I told her when she looked like she was going to soften too much. “He is not to get any special treatment. The boy is strong and knows that he must get on with his life.” She looked a little surprised at my firmness but agreed. “I play no favorites. And being the oldest, I will expect more of him.” “Thanks Linda. Now, does he need anything?” “Does he have a bathing suit on under his shorts?” “Oh, I don’t know. Shall I ask him?” “That’s okay. We wont be getting in the water today but some days we do capsizing and man overboard drills and he will need a bathing suit for that. Also, most of the kids go to the pool or swimming float after class and then eat at the snack bar before going home.” “Okay. Sounds like he’ll be in good hands. When is the class over?” “About 11:30 a.m.” “Perfect. Thanks Linda.” “Marc?” He was already talking with one of the boys closest to his age. “Yes, Uncle John?” “I’ll meet you at the snack bar at 11:30 a.m. or so.” “Okay. Don’t work too hard.” He waved and went back to talking with his new friend. My heart sank. I had known him for only a few days and now I was leaving him alone, and with strangers. I was very nervous and he didn’t seem the least bit concerned. I wanted to run back, scoop him up in my arms and run home. But of course I knew I couldn’t. I bit my lip and walked back home. The two hours dragged. I did get a lot of work done; I opened up the boat so it would air and dry out, checking various investments, transferring some funds and I paid the bills. There was personal e-mail from Eddie which I answered. He told me how good it was to see me again. That gave me a warm feeling. He asked how Marc was, purely from a parent’s point of view. He also asked how we were getting along and I knew the point of view of that question. I simply said that we felt very strongly for each other and that I was letting the boy set the pace. Then I admitted that perhaps I was making an effort to keep the pace slow. I asked how his family was doing. We weren’t going to see much of each other but it was nice to be able to communicate after all these years. I still loved him very much. After I had finished the computer things that I had to do, I did a little house keeping. This is what I call mindless work and I do a lot of thinking when I do it. This time I was thinking about my boy alone out there. I worried about that launch boy. If he saw Marc was there without me would he try to make friends? Would Marc be taken in? Would he hit on Marc? Oh my, would I be jealous if he did? How would I handle it? What about Marc? Would he want to do stuff with other boys? My mind raced on. I began to get worked up and decided that I should try to think about something else. It didn’t work and by 11:00 I was just too jumpy. I grabbed the paper and walked down to the club. It was a beautiful day. So I got a cup of decaf and sat on the snack bar deck overlooking the floats. The sailing class was down on one of the floats where all the sailing dinghies were kept. I read the paper, glancing every so often to see what the class was doing. Linda looked like she was explaining the various parts of the boats. Just then the launch motored up and pulled into the launch dock which was just beyond the dingy float. It was the same launch boy. He waved at Linda and she just turned her back. I guess she had him pegged too. Then he just sat there in the launch and I could see him watching the kids. Was this guy a predator? If he was, I would have to be very careful how I handled things. Every once in a while he would run halkalı escort his hand over the front of his shorts. It was too far to be sure but he seemed to do it only when Marc or the boy that Marc had been talking with earlier, looked in his direction. He never did it when Linda was looking. The time dragged. My coffee got cold and the paper went pretty much unread. I watched Marc and he seemed to be getting along just fine. A couple of times Linda asked him to help her with something. He never reacted to the launch boy’s actions but the other boy seemed to sneak peaks at the launch boy as if he were curious. At last it was 11:30 and the class looked like it was breaking up. Linda seemed to have made Marc class assistant or something because he was helping her bring the younger kids up the pier. His young friend and a couple of the other boys, who looked to be 10 or 11, went over to the launch float and started talking with the launch boy. If I didn’t know what I knew about him, they’d just look like a bunch of younger boys looking up to an older boy. I’m sure that’s just what they were doing too but I suspected that he had other things on his mind. As much as I wanted to, going over to meet Marc would probably have looked over protective so I just sat and finished my now quite cold decaf. He finished escorting the little kids up and spoke to Linda briefly. Then he walked up the steps to where I was eagerly waiting to hear how it went. “Well, my boy. Ready to challenge for the America’s Cup?” He smiled good naturedly. “It was great and Linda says I picked everything up very fast. She thinks I was a sailor in another life or something.” “Hey. That’s great. I had a feeling you’d take to it. Looks like you sort of became a class assistant too.” “Oh. Yeah. She says I’m good with the little ones. That’s what she calls the younger kids; the little ones. I don’t think they like that though.” “Did you make a friend too?” “Yup. His name is Jeffrey. He says his father is making him take sailing to make a man out of him. He does seem a bit out of place, very quiet too.” “I see him over on the launch float talking with the launch boy.” He turned around and looked down to the end of the pier. “Oh, that guy. Linda doesn’t like him. She says to steer clear of him, that he’s trouble. I think I agree.” Of course I was curious what made him say that but I decided to wait and see where he went with it. He didn’t go anywhere with it. His mind was already on to more important things. “What’s for lunch?” I laughed to myself. “Oh. Inside that door to the right you’ll see the counter. Just ask the girl there for a menu.” “Okay.” He happily did as asked and returned with a menu and a coke. “Can I get you a drink John?” “Yes, an iced tea thanks.” He went back in and returned again with a tall iced tea. “Strange.” He said kind of absently. “What’s that Marc?” “I asked about paying and she said they don’t take money.” “Oh.” I laughed. “We’re members and you can only charge. She’ll have a chit to sign when we’re done. I’m havin’ a BLT, they’re great here. How ’bout you?” “I know they’re full of junk but I love hot dogs with mustard. Shall I just tell her?” “Yup.” He made a third trip inside. When he came back he plopped down in a chair. “All this back and forth has me pooped. She said she’d bring our order out.” I laughed and he smiled back. “See that. I’m learning more about you every day. You’re happy, bright, self-assured, respectful and polite, make friends easily, a quick learner, good with little kids, interested in other people and a waiter to boot!” He laughed and leaning close to me whispered. “And, I have good taste in briefs and an Uncle that tastes good.” I looked around quickly and must have been blushing near purple because he cracked up laughing. I glared at him and he laughed even harder. So, I blew him a raspberry and that only made it worse. Finally, I gave in and started to giggle. That satisfied him. Just then he spotted his new friend walking up the pier with the launch boy. He stood and leaning over the railing, waved and yelled. “Jeffrey! Hey Jeffrey.” The boy waved back happily. The two of them came to the bottom of the steps and I heard the launch boy say, “I’ll meet you there at 12:15.” Then he left and Jeffrey came up the steps and over to us. “Hi Marc.” “Hi Jeffrey. This is my Godfather. John, this is Jeffrey.” We both said, “Pleased to meet you,” at the same time and then laughed as we shook hands. He was a very slight boy with very delicate features and neatly dressed. About 12 and small like Marc, about 4′ 9″, with soft brown hair and brown eyes that had very long lashes. In short, he was precious. “Jeffrey, Marc and I are just about to have lunch. Would you like to have some too?” “Yeah Jeffrey.” Marc added. “How about a hot dog or a burger?” The boy was hesitant. I could tell that he wanted to join us very much but he fidgeted and then explained. “My Mom made my lunch. It’s in the locker room. But, I have something I have to do around 12:15. Thanks anyway. Maybe next time.” He made a hasty retreat after telling Marc that he’d see him next class. Our lunch came and we enjoyed it along with Marc filling me in more on the class. His learning ability was a teacher’s dream. He loved learning. What was it that funny looking robot with the silly voice kept saying in that sci-fi movie? ‘In-put, in-put, more in-put.’ Well, it was something like that. Anyhow, like almost everything we did, our lunch was spiced with giggles and happiness. When we were done, I showed Marc how I always gathered together the dishes, paper plates, napkins and whatever and took them inside, just to be helpful. I always felt that since I had to go in to sign the chit, why not help. I also had him memorize our member number so he could get something when he wanted. It must have been 12:30 or so when we went down the steps and started for the corner of the building. As we came around it, I spotted Jeffrey coming out of the locker room at the far end. His shirt was pulled out and open and he was wiping his mouth with the back of his arm like a kid with a runny nose. He didn’t see us and ran off across the street away from the club. Just as he crossed the street the launch boy came out. He stood there, hitched up his pants and zipper and then swaggered around the far corner that led back to the docks. Swagger was the actual word that came to mind as I saw him walk away. Anyhow, this all happened so fast that neither Marc nor I had a chance to call out to Jeffrey. As I said, Marc is a smart boy şirinevler escort and sizes things up quickly but he is also programmed to be 13 and not at all worldly … if you catch my drift. “Uncle John? I don’t like that launch boy. I hope he didn’t beat up Jeffrey for something. He looked like maybe he was crying or wiping a bloody lip. Linda says he picks on the little kids and to stay away from him.” We walked along the side of the road toward home and I put my hand on Marc’s shoulder giving it an affectionate squeeze. “You know, you told me that before and I think I like this girl Linda. You maybe made two friends today.” “Yeah, maybe I did.” He sounded please with himself “So, my fine feathered friend. What would you like to do this afternoon?” He grinned up at me. “You are just full of those silly sayings aren’t you. I like ’em, they’re fun. Okay, this afternoon … hmmm. How about we drive around town and you show me where other things are besides the mall. You know, the school, the library, the movie theater, is there an arcade? I’m real good at those things.” “Yeah, I just bet you’re actually tuned into them.” He gave me a puzzled look but didn’t say anything. “Then what?” Now he looked at me a little more shyly. “Weeeellll … then we could … you know … if ya’ wanted …” He let his thought trail off. “Come on boy, we ain’t got all day.” I teased knowing full well where he was headed. “Would you like to guess what color briefs I have on?” With the thought out he easily allowed his desire to show on his face. “My, my. You certainly are a horny little fella aren’t you?” I chuckled. He chuckled back. “Well, it’s all your fault.” I was surprised. “My fault?” “Yup.” He declared. “I’m a nearly 14 year old boy overflowing with hormones and I come to live with this very handsome man who I love very much and every time I get near him or even just look at him I pop a major boner.” “Oh.” I purposely under stated. He was indignant. “Oh? … Just oh!” As I laughed at his reaction, he gave me a jab in the ribs. “You’re cruel Uncle John. Anybody ever tell you that?” I put my arm around his shoulder. “I only tease people I like my boy and I love you so, you’re in big trouble.” I could tell he was kidding but he groaned and moaned. Then he popped right back. “Good thing I love attention. Okay … so, what color?” “What color is what?” I teased again. “Grrrr! MY BRIEFS!” The shout echoed off the Marshes house as we passed it and he looked nervously at it and cringed, grinning sheepishly. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud and got a semi-serious glare. “What if I guess wrong?” Now he got saucy. “Ooohhhh, I duuno. I’ll think of sooommmmeethiiigg.” We crossed the lawn and went into the house. Ever since the launch ride where I watched as the launch boy ogled Marc’s cute butt, I had been thinking of possible problems with that boy. Now with this episode with Jeffrey, I suspected that the launch boy was hitting on the younger kids. If Marc was going to be over at the club on a regular basis I had to have a talk with him and now was as good a time as any. “Marc, before we go out I need to talk with you about something important and a little bit complicated.” He had started up the stairs and came back down now looking kind of concerned. “I didn’t do anything wrong did I Uncle John?” “No sweetie, you didn’t. Come on in the living room okay?” He blushed a little, I guess at being called sweetie. “It sounds serious.” “Well, yes, it could be.” I sat on the end of sofa and turned towards the middle patting the cushion for him to sit facing me. “Uh oh.” He grimaced. “It’s okay Marc.” I tried to reassure him. “No, it’s just that my Dad used to do the same thing.” This choked me up because I knew it was put in Marc’s programming by Eddie. It was what I did with him years ago, when he had been picking on his little sister. Perhaps it was his way of telling me he remembers. I composed myself. “I guess parents like to be able to see their kids faces when they get serious with them. I hope it doesn’t make you feel sad.” “No. It’s okay.” He was quiet. Like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Okay. I’m going to try to explain some things before I get to the possible problems. I’ll try not to take too long or get too involved. If you have a question just let me know.” “Should I raise my hand?” He teased. “I don’t mind listening Uncle John. I think it’s going to be interesting.” I laughed. “You’re a character Marc. I like as well as love you. Do you understand that they can be and often are, different?” “Yeah. Actually, I think I do.” He looked pleased with himself. Good. Let me see … okay. First, I am your legal guardian. Second, I am an adult and you are a minor. Third, we are both gay. Fourth, we are in love with each other. That is, we not only love each other as Godfather and Godson but we are also, in love. As in romantically in love. Fifth, we are having consensual sex. And finally, sixth, I am breaking the law by committing statutory rape on at least two counts and you are a victim.” He looked at me in disbelief. “Uncle John, I know those things. Well, I know that our having sex could get you in trouble. But I also know that I love you and I want to be with you in that way. You are not forcing me to do it. If anything, I am rushing you. The law is stupid and it sucks Uncle John.” I let a small smile cross my face. I was proud of him. “I’m afraid that I agree with you Marc but the line of the law has to be drawn somewhere and those that do the drawing are not quite as enlightened and not at all as affected as those who find their love restricted by it. However, the law is there to protect. There are indeed many minors who are exploited or who are not mature enough … not as mature as you are Marc … not mature enough to make a decision that is best for them.” “What is the legal age Uncle John?” “The legal age for consensual sex in this state is 14.” “Oh. Well, we’ll have to be real careful until I’m 14.” I sighed. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. If you were 14 years old and living with your parents and we were in love and having sex then the law is clear. But, you aren’t. I am your legal guardian and that precludes the 14 year old bit because I am responsible for your welfare until you are 18. As your legal guardian, if I, in the eyes of the law, endanger your welfare … the welfare of a minor put into my charge or guardianship … than I am guilty of breaking the law.” He mumbled, “the law really really sucks” and a huge tear brimmed over and out of his eye and down his cheek, quickly followed by more. “Are you telling me that we can’t have sex anymore? If you are it’s okay. It’s bullshit but I understand. I love you and I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want you to go to jail.” Next: Chapter Eleven – The word human stuck in my throat

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32