Date: Tue, 7 Jun 2005 19:59:18 +0100 (BST)
From: John Venn <johnvenn1698@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Tom Brown's Schoolboy part 1 of 2

Disclaimer:

This story contains scenes of a sexual nature between
two boys, and a man & boy. If this is not to
your taste, or is illegal where you live, or you find
it morally offensive, then read no further and
leave now!!
The story is purely imaginary and bears no resemblance
to any living person or persons as far as I
know, much as you or I might wish!

This story is copyright and may not be posted to any
other site without the express permission of the
author.

Comments are always welcome at
johnvenn1698@yahoo.co.uk
*****************************************************



Tom Brown's Schoolboy              (b/b, m/b, mast,
oral, cons)
by
Alexander

Chapter One.

Billy was sat on the low wall, swinging his legs and
watching the pub door. Occasionally he
would dip his grubby fingers into the paper bag in his
lap, fish out a sweet and chew on it. He was
pissed off and bored, as usual on a Saturday
afternoon. This was the day his father 'had access' to
him; his mum and dad were living apart, the drink
having finally done its work. 'Access' meant
meeting his dad outside the pub, being given a bottle
of cheap fizzy drink, an even cheaper bag of
sweets and told to wait outside. If he remembered, his
dad would send out another drink
sometime in the afternoon, but as often as not forgot
and would only remember him when he
staggered out some hours later, drunk, argumentative
and broke. Usually Billy got his timing right
and had long since gone when his father fell out of
the door.

He couldn't go home, or at least wouldn't. His mother
would either be 'entertaining' a man friend,
or in another pub doing the same thing as his father.
Either way, going home was out of the
question.

Billy was twelve years old and had lived like this for
almost as long as he could remember and
knew no different. He was happy enough in his own way,
content to wander the streets during
most daylight hours when he wasn't at school and
explore the roads and derelict houses where he
lived.

Staring down at his dirty, torn jeans and equally
grubby T-shirt, he shivered as a blast of cold
wind blew down the road. Jumping off the wall, he
peered through the pub window, saw his dad
with a full glass of beer and wandered off, feeling
for another sweet as he did so.
Half a mile down the road was his haven: an old
Victorian house, long since deserted, with a big
overgrown garden which hid it almost completely from
sight. Doors and windows had been
smashed and broken even before he discovered it, but
nevertheless it offered a place out of the
wind and rain where he could keep out of people's way.

He used to pretend it was his house and he lived there
with his big family and liveried servants,
just like he'd read in the books at school. The
street-level floor showed all the usual signs of use
by the local kids: torn papers, empty bottles,
discarded cigarette packs and other detritus littering
it. The next floor was his favourite though because
that was where 'his' room was. This used to be
a big store cupboard at some time, it was the only
room with a door, and it would almost shut. In
it he'd secreted away some of his prize possessions: a
few comics, a broken radio, a box of his
less-battered toys, a tattered blanket he'd rescued
from a skip, and a torch.
Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, he
looked around. 'Good,' he thought, 'No one's
been here.' Reaching up, he pulled the door as closed
as it would go and switched on the torch.
Feeling safe and secure from the world about him he
smiled to himself and relaxed. Searching
about under the blanket, he pulled out a magazine.
He'd found it downstairs a couple of weeks
ago, and was a complete revelation to him. It was full
of pictures of naked and half-naked men
and women. The girls were good to look at with their
huge naked breasts, but it was the men that
fascinated him the most.  Turning to the first page
with a naked man on it, he lay the magazine
carefully on the floor, got himself ready by pushing
his jeans and pants down to his knees and
shone the torch on the man's peter.

Waiting expectantly, he stared at the enormous monster
the man was holding, as his own tiddler
began to rise up for him. He looked from one to the
other, wondering vaguely if his would ever
get as big as that. The man, Jeff, according to the
words next to the picture, had all his fat fingers
round his dick and still had at least three inches
sticking out. Tentatively Billy put his fingers
round his: four fingers and it was completely hidden.

"Fuck it," he muttered to himself, "It ain't getting
no fuckin' bigger."
He left his hand where it was as he turned the pages
over with the other, searching for the next
monster. He knew: two more pages, and there he was,
standing up, legs spread apart and his peter
perfectly upright, reaching towards his belly button.
Tall, blond and muscley, he was the best
looking man in the book. Billy stared at him, envying
his gigantic peter and getting that nice,
tickly feeling in his belly, just like butterflies. He
flicked through the magazine, knowing from
experience exactly which pages to turn to, but
returning to Blondie every so often to refresh his
memory.

The sound of a bus making its way down the road
brought him back from wherever his mind had
drifted. It was time to make a move home. Reluctantly,
he carefully replaced the book and pulled
his trousers up, making sure that he covered his bits
with a hand as he fastened the zip. He'd
caught himself in it once, and didn't want to do it a
second time!
Turning into the road where he lived, he glanced up at
his block of flats: thirty floors of grey
concrete and peeling paintwork. If he'd ever known
anything different, he'd've known just how
run-down and decrepit it was - but he didn't, and it
was home.
His mother was there. Not drunk exactly, but neither
was she sober. There was a definite smell of
a man in the air; she'd been entertaining. He could
never identify what caused the odour, but he
could always tell when she'd had a man round. The only
thing he was certain of was that she
would have some money, or she'd be pissed, but not
both. Without moving from the sofa where
she lay, she waved an arm and mumbled that his dinner
was in the kitchen. Without haste he
wandered into the squalor to find the cold remains of
yesterday's stew sitting on the window sill.
Shrugging his shoulders, he emptied it into the
rubbish bin and stuffed his last two remaining
sweets in his mouth.

There were about two hours to kill until the best time
of day. Once she thought he was in his
room, she never disturbed him until she shouted for
him at breakfast time and didn't really know
whether he was there or not. So, sometime after nine
in the evening he could usually manage to
sneak out of the house without his mother knowing.
Most often she was glued in front of the TV,
other times she was snoring.

Laying on his bed, he loosened his trousers and
thought about his magazine. It occurred to him
that he'd been thinking about the naked men a lot
recently, and every time he did, his peter got
hard. He liked it when that happened: it was one of
the few things he got any real pleasure out of
these days, and there was no one to tell him off for
being happy and enjoying himself as they so
often seemed to. He let his hands wander down and hold
his flaccid peter until it got hard. Then
he felt all round his naked balls and up to his bum,
and back again, stroking up to his belly button,
then round again. He kept on feeling himself as
pictures of the different men crossed through his
mind, eyes closed and a welcoming smile on his face.
Another idle thought struck him: nearly all
the men had hair round their peters. He sat up and
examined himself closely: not a one, not even a
sign of one. Sighing, he lay back down again,
wondering when he would grow up.
When he awoke from his doze, Billy was surprised to
find his hands cupping his still hard peter.
And there was something else, he'd wet himself, just a
tiny bit though. He looked at the liquid on
the end of his thing. It didn't look like piss
somehow, for one thing it wasn't the right colour, and
for another it seemed sticky sort of. Curiously he
picked a bit up on the end of his finger and
brought it to his nose. It definitely wasn't piss; it
smelt different, kinda nice even. Very carefully he
tasted it. It was OK. He gathered the remaining few
drops up and sucked his finger dry. It was
good. Shrugging his shoulders, he pulled his ragged
jeans up, put the warmer of his two coats on
and quietly opened his bedroom door. She was sleeping.
Very carefully he crept behind her and
with an expertise born of practice, slipped out like a
wraith.
Getting away from the estate without being beaten up,
or at the very least chased by one of the
gangs wasn't easy. Slipping from shadow to shadow, his
eyes darting everywhere on the look-out
for any potential trouble, he made it to the main
road. Even then he knew he wasn't completely
safe: being a slightly-built and young-looking 12-year
old boy he was always at risk from other,
bigger and tougher boys. He made his way towards the
town centre, the bright lights and people.
Lots of non-threatening, happy people mostly. He would
be relatively safe for a couple of hours,
window-shopping and looking at the tv programmes in
the shop windows. He was happy. He was
even given the remains of an unwanted burger by a
smiling girl who felt sorry for him; that was a
bonus!

Eleven o'clock found him in a quieter part of town,
well away from the centre: this was his
territory and he knew it well. Roaming aimlessly round
the darkened streets, enjoying the night air
and solitude, he let his mind wander. For some reason
or other, he became aware that his peter
had got hard, and he hadn't even been thinking of
anything! Putting his hand into his pocket and
feeling it through the hole, he was sure he could feel
it was wet again. He remembered there was a
toilet block not too far away and he trotted towards
it, keen to have a look at himself and check it
out.

He locked the green wooden door behind himself and
immediately dropped his clothes to the
floor, in a hurry to see what was happening.

It was there again! Smiling to himself with an odd
sort of satisfaction, he collected the
crystal-clear fluid together and stuck it in his
mouth. It was just the same! His peter gave a little
twitch upwards, unnoticed by Billy except that he put
his hand on it and held it like always.
Idly he squeezed and released it, enjoying the secret
delight it gave him. This was nice, he decided
and did it some more, looking at the walls as he felt
the tickling butterflies in his tummy.
There were drawings: lots of drawings, all over the
walls, and writing as well. He'd never really
noticed them before, not that he'd used these places
much anyway - a convenient tree or wall had
always done him in the past. But now ......?

Gradually his eyes opened wider and wider as it dawned
on him what the pictures were of. Peters,
balls and bums, in odd positions and all different
shapes and sizes. He put off reading the words
until he'd examined every picture in detail. His peter
got harder and he started to stroke it
reflectively as he peered at the drawings. There were
peters in fists, peters standing up, peters in
mouths, there were even peters stuck up bums; there
was every possible combination he could
think of - and more! It was like a wonderland to his
innocent, fertile imagination. A wonderland of
revelation and discovery. He began to take in the
words fitted around the pictures, recognising
most of them, but not what they were saying. He
understood 'fuck' and 'dick' and 'arse' and a good
many others; he'd heard them at school often enough
and had seen them scrawled in isolation on
walls, but never together in such profusion.  His hand
stroked his dick harder.
He tried to imagine what it would be like having a
peter, sorry, dick, in your mouth or up your
bum. His mouth would be OK, after all that clear stuff
tasted not too bad; but inside your bum
must hurt, and why do it anyway? His hand continued to
move up and down and he became
aware of it for the first time. Curiously he stared at
it, as if it had a will of its own, and let it carry
on, even putting his other hand under his tiny balls
to take the weight of them off his bouncing
dick. The butterflies in his tummy began to flutter
harder and he watched as his balls suddenly
seemed to shrink back into his tummy. Then the most
fantastic thing happened. His hand went
faster and faster and his dick seemed to get hotter
and bigger and fill his whole brain. Suddenly his
entire body was filled with an amazing light and heat,
the tiny room melted away into a mist and
he shook all over, not stopping for ages and ages. To
begin with he thought he'd hurt himself
somehow, but as the fantastic feeling slowly died
away, he looked at his dick and balls and
gratefully saw they were still in one piece. But there
was something odd though - there was some
white stuff dripping out of his cock. There were drops
of it on his legs and shirt as well. How did
that get there? What was it?

Realisation hit him like a thunderclap. All the sex
ed. lessons at school, all the 'dirty' talk in the
playground, and even the pictures in his magazine
began to make some sort of sense to him. This
was sex. Proper sex. And he could do it! He looked
around the toilet, suddenly acutely aware of
where he was. He was sure that somebody was listening,
somebody had watched him, somebody
who just knew what he'd done. He breathed a sigh of
relief as he found he was still alone. But it
was fantastic! Amazing! Awesome! He must tell
somebody! But who? Nobody. He knew that,
but he just wished there was someone, just one person,
with whom he could share this amazing
discovery. Then he thought, there was just one person,
maybe.
Groggily, he struggled to his feet and pulled his
pants and trousers up, taking extra care not to
trap his super-sensitive and now shiningly sticky
peter in his zipper and ran all the way home. For
two reasons: first he wanted to get into his own bed
and do it again, and secondly, he might, just
might, run into the one person in the world he could
share his fantastic secret with.
Kim was the nearest thing he had to a friend. He was a
year younger than him and lived next door.
His name wasn't really Kim; because his family was
black and African or something, he had a
long, funny name which nobody could say properly, so
he was called Kim. Even his mum and dad
called him Kim unless he was in trouble, which wasn't
very often.
Naturally Kim wasn't around, it was much too late for
him to be out. 'Still,' thought Billy, 'That
ain't important now, I'll tell him later. I just wanna
get home!'
He almost blew it in his excitement. He thrust the
flat door open with unaccustomed force, but
automatically stopped it before it bounced against the
door frame. There was no sign of his
mother, he assumed she was in bed. Treading very
cautiously he crept into his room, closed the
door and for safety's sake, even wedged the chair
under the handle. She'd never come into his
room at night before, but knowing his luck tonight
would be the first, and he didn't want to be
disturbed when he was busy experimenting!

As fast as he could, he stripped off and threw his
clothes into the corner to join the mounting pile,
some clean, some dirty. He lay on the unmade bed,
spread his legs and surveyed his body from
top to toe.  His skin was pink and flawless apart from
the odd marks and scratches on his legs
where he'd scrambled through bushes when playing.
Mentally he compared his boy-body with
those of the men in his book. He gave that up
instantly and tried to remember what the other boys
in his class looked like when they were stripped for
swimming or PE. It wasn't easy, he'd never
taken much notice of them before, always getting
changed by himself in a corner and keeping his
back to them. The few he had looked at nervously in
the showers were no different to him on the
whole, although Billy was a bit smaller and thinner
than most of them. His peter was a little bigger
than average, and like everyone else except David and
Mark, had no hair at all, and they only had
three or four tiny ones. He knew that because they'd
showed them to everyone last week. His dick
started to harden.

Experimentally he ran his thin fingers over his body,
closing his eyes to concentrate on the feeling.
The sensation from the top of his legs and round his
dick and balls was nice and tingly, making his
tummy feel funny. His legs and arms felt no different,
but when he rubbed his chest, that was
almost as good as when he held his dick: he shivered
at his touch, opening his eyes for a second to
confirm his fingers were where he thought they were.
His little brown nipples seemed to be
super-touchy, they felt the best, and re-closing his
eyes, played with them again to check it out. It
was brilliant! Keeping his left hand rubbing them, he
switched his right one back to his peter
which was now real hard and sticking straight up.
There was that clear stuff again, all together in
a sort of tiny lake made by the extra bit of skin at
the end of his peter. He was in heaven! Gripping
his dick a bit harder, he felt his heart-beats making
it throb a tiny bit and he began to rub up and
down in time with it.

That strange, wonderful feeling began to come again,
the butterflies in his tummy started up and
he felt warm and sort of itchy all over. He opened his
legs a little wider and grasped his balls with
his left hand, feeling the egg-shaped things inside.
His mouth fell open and he gasped at the
sudden and unexpected excitement it gave him. He
started to rub his dick faster. It throbbed and
grew hotter and even bigger. His skin seemed to be
alive and glowing as he worked his fingers up
and down his shaft, making him moan and groan
uncontrollably. He watched as more and more of
the sticky stuff came out of his dick: he wanted to
stop and taste it, but somehow he couldn't
seem to do it. Quicker and quicker his fingers flew up
and down, completely out of his control,
his dick now as hard as iron. Then, without warning he
let out a strangled scream and he felt his
dick spasm, his back arch and his legs stick straight
out, toes curled up painfully. He stopped
breathing as big globs of white stuff shot out in
spurts; he counted at least five before they slowed
down and stopped, the last one just dribbling out and
running on to his thumb. He took a deep
breath and tried to get his brain to work. That was
the best feeling he'd ever, ever had; he felt
exhilarated, happy, wonderful and all sorts of other
good feelings at the same time.
The stuff that came out this time was different - it
was white and sort of cloudy and thicker, more
like cream. He tasted it. That was different as well,
like a swimming pool sort of taste but it was
good. He gathered the rest up and put it on his
tongue. 'Yeah,' he thought, 'Different but definitely
OK.'

Twice more he did it that night, not making quite so
much stuff, but gratefully confirming that the
feelings were still there and just as good as the
first time. He only stopped when he tried it a third
time, looked at his dick and saw it was red raw and
very tender, so tender he couldn't touch it.

Chapter Two.

The following morning, after the third shout from his
Mother, he stumbled out of bed. For a
moment he wondered why he still felt so tired and yet
so pleased with himself, then he
remembered and smiled to himself. Still grinning, he
searched for a reasonably clean shirt and his
school trousers. A quick wash, and he was on the way
to school with a slice of toast in his hand.
He hoped to meet Kim on the way but he was one of
those kids who always got to school early,
and Billy was one of those who arrived just in the
nick of time, he promised himself that he'd find
him later. The morning lessons dragged on and on:
Billy knew he wasn't very bright at the best of
times although he usually managed to keep himself out
of trouble. No, that isn't true he thought.
He realised he was cleverer, more intelligent than
most people around him, but he'd never been
bothered or stimulated enough to use his brains,
always being content to do the bare minimum to
avoid any bother from the teachers and not stand out
from the crowd. That, together with his less
than supportive home meant he was one of that vast
herd of pupils in the middle: ignored by
everyone, pupils and teachers alike.

Lunch-time came around, and Billy searched Kim out. He
was sat by himself on the library steps
flicking through a comic when Billy approached him.

"Hiya, Kim!" Billy said cheerfully, parking himself
next to his friend.
"Hiya yourself!" Kim replied, grateful for someone to
talk to. He liked Billy, despite his poor
home and drunken mother: in some ways he felt sorry
for him, but was completely unable to do
anything about it and so pushed it to the back of his
mind. Even his parents had half-warned in a
round-about way not to become too friendly with him.
What he did like was his free and easy
approach to life, doing more or less what he wanted,
when he wanted. That, in Kim's eyes, was a
reasonable trade-off for having a bad home.

"Listen, I got summat to tell ya," Billy whispered
urgently. "Come over 'ere."
He grabbed Kim's arm and dragged him round the corner,
out of everyone's view. Kim followed
curiously.

"You know your thing, you know, your peter?" Billy
gushed out excitedly, still holding his
friend's arm with one hand, and pointing to his crotch
with the other.
Kim nodded, understanding now why he'd been brought
round here out of the way - it was going
to be one of 'those' conversations. His family were
very old-fashioned in that sex was never
mentioned in any way, shape or form. It was treated as
something furtive and somehow dirty. The
result was that age the age of eleven, Kim had an
abiding interest in all things sexual, although as
yet was completely unaware of its physical side. But
that was about to change.
"Well, you know it gets hard sometimes, if you think
dirty things."
Kim nodded again, not fully understanding, but going
along with Billy anyway.
"Well, last night," here he dropped his voice to a
whisper, "I found out that stuff comes out of it.
Two sorts of stuff," he added after a moments thought.

Billy felt his dick harden in his trousers, adjusted
its position unconsciously and carried on. Kim's
eyes saw the movement and became fascinated as to
where the conversation was leading. He also
felt a funny feeling at the top of his legs.

"If you rub it, it feels fuckin' awesome, and if you
keep doin' it, first some white watery stuff
comes out, and then if you keep on rubbin', some thick
juicy stuff comes out as well. And it makes
you feel all sort of,....." Here he became stuck for
words, and added lamely, "well, fuckin'
amazin'!"

Kim too was stuck for words. He heard what Billy had
said, but didn't have a clue what he was
talking about. Sure, his thingy got stiff sometimes,
but if he ignored it, it went away. He knew that
if he touched it when it was hard, it felt good. But
he also knew that it was to do with sex, and
therefore dirty and very much to be avoided.

To his acute embarrassment, Kim felt a swelling in his
crotch and was unable to anything about it:
it was bad enough when he was alone and it happened,
but with Billy here, it was ten times worse.
He took a quick look down and saw the terrifying tent
in his trousers and blushed deeply.
He heard Billy giggle and say, "Your's gone stiff as
well? Mine has, look!" He made a diamond
shape with his fingers and thumbs and pushed it over
his peter making it even more obvious.
Kim stared, now seriously disturbed. This just wasn't
right and he stammered out an apology to
Billy and ran off to hide somewhere out of the way.
Billy, knowing how funny Kim was about
sexy things, felt sorry that he was going to miss out
on the best bit, what happens when you play
with it, but that was Kim's problem. Billy ran to the
toilets, dropped his pants and stared, almost
lovingly, at the wet patch on his pants.

Meanwhile, Kim was in another toilet, sat down on the
seat, breathing heavily. He hated feeling
like this whenever anyone mentioned sex, especially if
they talked about penises or testicles. He
was eleven years old, had heard all the jokes and
banter in the playground, and envied the boys
who were able to laugh at them. Now, even Billy was
talking dirty to him, and he was a friend.
What was wrong with him?

He thought about himself. He was big for his age, he
knew that. He was taller and heavier than
anyone in his year, and a good many in the year above
as well. He was fit and healthy, kept
himself clean and tidy, and had a smooth, unblemished
black skin. The only thing different about
him he couldn't think about, even to himself. His
'thing' wasn't like any of the others he'd seen by
accident: he'd been circumcised. It was about the same
as Billy's he remembered, apart from a few
little hairs which had grown down there recently, but
no one except him knew about those. So
why then, did he feel so different? He made a
momentous decision. Gritting his teeth and setting
his mind to it, he unfastened his trousers. With a
deep breath he pushed them down and seated
himself on the toilet again, looking down at his
groin. The thing between his legs was a bit larger
than it usually was, but he knew why, and tried to
ignore it. The hairs were still there. No more
and no fewer than there were the other day. But there
was something different. The end of his
penis was shiny and wet. Could that be the stuff Billy
was talking about? He tore off a piece of
toilet paper and wiped it off. As soon as the paper
touched the purple head, he felt an electric
shock shoot through his whole body and he shivered
with the surprise. It wasn't a bad feeling, just
unexpected.

Experimentally, he did it again. The feeling hit him
again, and his penis got a bit harder. Billy was
right he realised. The feeling was a good one. He
started to wipe the stuff off and the sensation in
his penis was mind-bending: he'd never felt anything
like it in his life. Slowly he rubbed the paper
over and over the head, the liquid had long since been
cleaned off, but that didn't matter anymore.
He tentatively held his penis upright with one hand,
dropped the paper in the toilet and rubbed the
palm of his hand over the little hole at the end. It
was leaking, and he trembled with the incredible
warmth his penis seemed to have gained. He looked at
his hand and much to his relief realised it
wasn't urine. He smelt it carefully and decided that
it seemed harmless. His penis was still hard
and willed it go down, but it wouldn't, if anything it
got harder. He was scaring himself now and
tried to get dressed. But there was the problem of his
hard penis. He positioned it as straight as he
could and pulled his underpants over it. As he rubbed
his hand along it, the feeling came back
again. He couldn't stop himself: he did it three or
four times, each time the feeling getting stronger
and stronger. Then his legs began to shake and his
knees knock together. In something
approaching a panic, he pulled his trousers over his
undies, fastened the zip and made a hasty
escape to the playground, his mind a mess of
conflicting thoughts. Out in the open air, he was
absolutely certain that everyone was staring at him,
thinking what a dirty, perverted little boy he
was.

Kim's afternoon in class was much like Billy's had
been in the morning: he couldn't keep his mind
on anything for more than five minutes before it
wandered off to Billy's information and his own
discovery. The biggest problem he had was why, if the
feelings were so intense and so good, had
no one ever told him before? Surely, something so
important and exciting and good-feeling should
be known by everybody? Then the truth hit him: that
was precisely why he hadn't been told, that
was why his parents threw a fit every time his hands
went anywhere below the belt. They knew
just how nice the sensations were and didn't want him
to know about them. He made his mind up
to talk to Billy and learn some more. But it had to be
secret though, a big secret.

Chapter Three.

Billy was still excited, not only about the secret
he'd shared with Kim, but also about the toilets
down town: he couldn't seem to get them out of his
mind. Knowing that there was no way he
could settle down to any schoolwork with his mind full
of other, much more important things, he
decided to skip school for the afternoon. It wouldn't
be the first time and wasn't difficult as he'd
learned. All you had to do was get registered and
sneak out before the lessons started. The
teachers rarely checked names, and his classmates,
bound by the schoolboy code, would never
admit to knowing anything even if they did.

The bogs he'd been to last night were too far away to
go to just now, and he racked his brain
trying to think if there were any others he might try.
There were some at the local shopping
precinct, but they would be too busy and probably kept
too clean anyway. No, what he wanted
were some not too far away, not used too much and not
cleaned very often. He scanned the map
of the local area in his mind. Got it! The football
field. There was a toilet block there. Nobody
much would be around now because they'd all be in
school or at work. He knew they weren't
cleaned too often because on the one or two occasions
he'd been in them, they smelt terrible and
the walls were covered in graffiti. Just what he
wanted.

He ducked out through the hole in the fence behind the
gymnasium and ran as fast as he could
until the school was out of sight. Dropping to a
steady jog, he was at the field in ten minutes.
Stopping at the entrance to the field, he looked
around: there wasn't a soul in sight apart from a
dog walker over on the far side. He stared at the
toilets for a couple of minutes waiting for
anyone who might be in them to leave. He was feeling a
now familiar sensation in his trousers and
knew without checking that his dick was getting hard
with anticipation. Taking a deep breath, he
raced the fifty yards to his target and bounced in
through the door, sliding on the wet floor to a
stop against the brick wall.

Taking a careful look round, he saw the four white
porcelain urinals, chipped and stained, on one
wall and opposite them four unoccupied cubicles with
their heavy wooden doors ajar. They had
been painted once, but that had long since peeled off
to leave a mosaic of dark green paint and
yellowish-grey wood with the inevitable tags scratched
into it.
He went into one of the middle bogs and locked the
door behind him. It was a veritable treasure
trove of information. The walls were covered almost
from floor to ceiling with hundreds of
messages, pictures and crude drawings. His eyes lit up
as he scanned them excitedly. He also
noticed holes in the side walls and in the door: big
ones in the walls and much smaller ones in the
door. He could guess what they were for, and felt a
sensual thrill coursing through his body as he
thought about it. His dick gave a twitch of
excitement, reminding him of its presence, and he
pushed his trousers and pants down to his ankles,
allowing it to escape to the freedom it so badly
needed.

There was something incredibly exciting about being
locked in the toilet cubicle with his pants
around his ankles and holding on to his warm, stiff
peter. The thrill was made even greater by the
fact that he was playing hookey from school as well.
He scanned the walls, taking in the multitude
of crude, obscene and astonishing pictures, almost
salivating as he stored them in his memory.
Then there was the writing as well. He didn't know
that there were so many different words for
his peter: dick, cock and prick were the commonest.
Like at the other bogs, 'peter' wasn't written
up there once. He decided that must be a baby word for
it and resolved never to use it again, after
all he was nearly a man now 'cause he could make that
white stuff come. 'Spunk' or 'sperm' it must
be called according to the information in front of
him. Talking of which he remembered his now
steel-hard dick in his hand, and began stroking it up
and down slowly, waiting for 'the feeling' to
start.

There were lots of pictures of people playing with
their dicks just like he was now; there were
also some with dicks in peoples mouths again as well
as some with dicks up bums. He sat down
on the bowl and thought about it. Having a prick in
your mouth must be OK because some of the
messages said things like 'suck me' and 'wanna suck?'
There were even some messages which
seemed to make dates for people to meet together and
do it. That must be real cool to have
someone suck your prick, or you suck theirs. He pulled
a face at the ones with dicks up bums.
That still didn't make any sense.  Experimentally he
tried to push his finger up his own bum, but
first of all it closed up real tight, then, when it
did relax a bit and he managed to get a bit of his
finger in, it hurt like crazy and he quickly pulled it
out. 'Fuck that!' he thought to himself.
He felt himself getting close to that good feeling,
his tummy was tingling and he felt hot all over.
With a big effort, he stopped rubbing himself because
he wanted to finish looking at the wall
before he made the spunk come out. This must be what
'wanking' and 'jerking off' is he realised
suddenly, staring at the words, and another piece of
the jigsaw fell into place. He thought for an
instant of writing all these new words down so's he
could remember them, but apart from the fact
that he didn't have any writing stuff with him, he
decided that it was a stupid idea anyway 'cause
someone might find it and read it.

He carried on reading and learned a few more things.
It seemed people got together here a lot as
the dates were all new ones, some even for today and
tomorrow. A thought crossed his mind that
he would like to hide here one night and see what
happened, but then this place was too far from
home to come to late at night, and in any case he
didn't really fancy being here when it was dark,
it would be too scary. But there was the other place
though. He smiled and promised himself he
would try it tonight. Once more he resumed wanking his
dick and waited for the feeling. It
must've helped looking at the pictures because he
started to go all gooey and shaky nearly
straightaway. He didn't stop this time though; instead
he pushed his legs out as straight as he
could, leaned back against the wall, held his balls in
one hand and stroked as fast as he as was
able. He kept wanking even when his dick throbbed and
swelled up and his balls shrunk up into
his groin. Under his fingers he felt the spunk coming
inside his cock and watched as it shot up into
the air, shooting up in six or seven bursts so hard it
even hurt a bit. The feelings were getting
better and better every time he did it, he thought as
he scooped some up and put it in his mouth.
This time was the best so far and he took a deep
breath as he grinned happily. 'If only, ' he thought
to himself.

'If only what?' he contemplated. 'Why did I think
that? If only what?'
Then it dawned on him. Not only did he wanted to share
his magical feelings with someone else,
he wanted to do it with them. Now that must be really
brilliant, much better than doing it to
yourself. He thought of Kim.

Turning this idea over in his mind, he pulled his
trousers up without bothering to fasten them, and
peering through the hole in the door to make sure that
there was no one around, hobbled to the
end cubicle to check that one out.

It was much the same as the other he found out rather
to his disappointment, but then the big hole
through the wall caught his eye. The size was about
right, the height was right (for a grown man
anyway) and there were some stains running down the
wall which definitely weren't piss. He
adjusted his thinking: these holes weren't just for
looking through like the ones in the doors, they
were to stick your cock through so's the man next door
could, well, wank it or suck it, he worked
out. He looked at the hole, looked at his dick and
looked back at the hole. No way. His prick,
even if it was really hard wouldn't reach all the way
through. Just about, maybe, but there
wouldn't be enough sticking out the other end for
anyone to play with. Standing as close to the
wall as he could, he had to stand on his toes to get
his boner in the right place as he slid it into the
cold brickwork. He tried to guess how much of it was
sticking out the other side and worked out
that he was right, his cock was nowhere near big
enough and in any case his toes were starting to
hurt already.

'Shit!' he thought to himself, 'When WILL I be big
enough?' An image of Blondie from his
magazine crossed his mind: now HE was big enough, and
then some! The Magazine! His Room!
The house!  Kim!

He almost jumped for joy as a plan crystallised in his
mind. It would work, no problem, if only he
could persuade Kim to go with him.

Billy stood outside the school gates as the seething
mass of boys and girls escaped from their
enforced captivity, watching anxiously for Kim,
hopping from foot to foot in anticipation.
Kim meanwhile had been keeping an eye open for Billy
most of the afternoon during lesson
changes and at break. There wasn't a sign of him
anywhere, and when he'd asked one of his
classmates where he was, had been told that he'd
skipped school for the afternoon. Kim wasn't
happy. He knew himself well enough to know that unless
he got together with Billy today, he
wouldn't ever do it, and he badly needed to be told
things; exciting, scary things.
Because he'd been trying to find Billy, Kim was one of
the last kids out of the school, fed up and
miserable. Then they saw each other and waved
frantically. When they met up, they grinned at
each other and started to speak excitedly at the same
time.
"Listen, wanna go somewhere? .........." Billy
started.
"Can we go somewhere .....?" Kim said.

Kim let Billy speak. "Wanna come and, err, talk?
Somewhere secret?" he said, looking straight at
Kim.

Kim was both pleased and surprised at the same time.
He wanted to meet with Billy, and go
somewhere, but how did he know? And what did he want
to talk about? It could only be about
one thing, especially as he said 'somewhere secret'.
"Yes," he said, trying to keep his excitement under
control. "Where?"
"I know a place, but you gotta promise not to tell
anyone about it 'cause it's secret."
"I promise," Kim said, "When?"

"Can you get out now?" Billy asked hopefully, and
looked at Kim in his nice, clean school
uniform.
Any extra dirt on his own clothes wouldn't show, but
Kim needed to change.  "Let's go home
first, I've got to change and get some diff'rent
things on," Kim said as if reading Billy's mind.

They hurried home together, taking about everything
else except what was uppermost in their
minds. Both had erections, Billy happily feeling his
through the hole in his pocket, and Kim
hoping his would go down before he reached home.

They met up fifteen minutes later at the end of the
road. Kim had changed into his old jeans and
sweatshirt: even his 'old' clothes were better than
Billy's, but he didn't notice, and wouldn't have
cared even if he did.

On the way to 'Billy's House', he explained all about
where they were going and about his special
room and that once they were inside, no one in the
world would find them. Kim was excited,
more excited than he'd been for ages. This was an
adventure and a half for him; he was going to a
secret hide-away with a boy who was going to tell him
all sorts of sex stuff he wasn't supposed to
know, and might even show him things if he was lucky.
He got hard just thinking about it and
hardly heard Billy gabbling away to him in his
excitement. For the first time ever he didn't want it
to go down, not until Billy told him stuff anyway.

Kim was excitingly nervous as they scrambled through
the undergrowth, up the rickety stairs of
the old house and into Billy's Room. Once the door was
pulled to and they were sat on the floor
facing each other, he still felt nervous, but a
different sort. Now he was eager to learn things:
dirty, exciting things.  They looked at each other,
neither knowing where to start.
"Wanna see some pictures? Good ones?" Billy said.

"Err, yes. OK then," Kim replied, disappointed that
they weren't going to 'talk'.
Billy fished under the blanket and dug the book out,
spreading it reverently on the floor between
them.  Slowly he turned the pages over, watching Kim's
face.
He was astounded. There were pictures, dozens of them,
of men and women without clothes on.
He'd never imagined that this sort of thing existed,
let alone see and hold one. What's more, the
men and women seemed to be enjoying themselves, they
were smiling and posing for the camera,
not caring that somebody was taking pictures of them
without any clothes on. And what was even
more amazing was that the mens penis's were all hard.
Big, very big, and very hard. He was
speechless and couldn't take his eyes from them. Kim
looked at Billy, his mouth wide open and
picked up the book to examine it closely. Page after
page he stared at them in total disbelief. He
felt his penis stiffen up and push his trousers out,
but he didn't care, this was much more
important.

Billy watched his friend, grinning broadly. He
remembered how he felt when he first saw the
pictures and knew just what Kim was thinking: the tent
in his trousers demonstrating it more than
adequately. His gaze shifted from Kim's face to the
bulge in his jeans and stared at it, watching as
it twitched every time he turned a page over. Billy
slipped his hands inside his trousers and
grasped his leaking dick gently.

"Wow!" said Kim breathlessly after skimming through
the book for the third time. "Wow!"
"Good aren't they?" Billy giggled, still watching
Kim's erection bouncing up and down.
Kim saw where Billy's hand was and felt embarrassed
for a moment but then reasoned that under
the circumstances it was OK. He stared at his own tent
and wished he had the nerve to do what
Billy was doing.

"Wanna see some of that sticky stuff?" Billy said, his
eyes flashing at Kim in excitement and
anticipation.

Kim nodded, his power of speech lost absolutely. Billy
stuck his thumbs inside his trousers and
pants, and wriggling about, managed to push them down
to his knees. His dick stood up, proud
and erect, glistening wetly. Billy lay back, resting
on his elbows and staring at his own prick,
gently throbbing with his heartbeat.

"Touch it if you want," he whispered. "I don't mind."

Kim was way beyond logical thought now, his eyes were
fixed on Billy's penis. Billy's hard, wet,
irresistible penis. Somewhere in the far distance he
heard someone ask if he wanted to touch it.
There was no power on earth could stop him. Slowly he
stretched his hand towards it, stopping
just a few millimetres short, pausing to take a breath
before he tentatively reached a solitary finger
out and touched it on the shaft, feeling its heat and
hardness.
Billy took in a sharp breath and sighed deeply,
closing his eyes. He'd never imagined, couldn't
possibly imagine, how it felt having someone touch
your prick. It was fantastic. Just one finger
resting on it and he was in heaven.

"Hold it, properly," he moaned, "All your hand."

Kim closed his fingers round the shaft and
concentrated on the sensation. He seemed to draw
some mystical energy from Billy as he held on to his
beautiful penis, relishing every fantastic
second of it. He didn't care what his parents, or
anyone else for that matter, said or thought about
what they were doing; it was unbelievably brilliant!
And he was doing it! Actually holding
someone else's thing, and enjoying it! He held his
hand perfectly still, not daring to move even a
millimetre in case Billy told him to take it away.

But Billy wasn't going to do that, not in a million
years. He was ecstatic with delight and wished it
could go on for ever.  Pulling his mind together with
a struggle, he whispered, "Can I see yours?"
Kim nodded his head frantically, not trusting himself
to speak yet, or wishing to let go his hand.
Billy leaned up and reached for the snapper and zip on
Kim's jeans. He managed the snapper, but
couldn't move the zip any more than half an inch.
"You do it," he said impatiently, "I can't do it."

Kim let go of Billy's dick, scrabbled to push his zip
down, forced his jeans and pants to his thighs
and grabbed hold of Billy's cock again.

Billy stared in awe at Kim's prick standing out hugely
from his balls. It was nicer than he thought
it would be somehow, much the same size and shape as
his except that it was a beautiful shade of
brownish-black with a deep purple head and no skin at
the end of it. He held it between his finger
and thumb, moving it around slightly so he could have
a really good look at it. There were even a
few wiry, curly hairs at the bottom of the shaft which
he felt - they were a lot softer than they
looked. The more he stared, the more he liked. It felt
hot and hard, yet soft and squishy at the
same time. He squeezed it gently and heard Kim groan.
He sensed his prick being squeezed at the
same time and sighed.

The two boys looked at each other and grinned. They
were feeling a bit embarrassed in some
ways, but the intense pleasure radiating from their
groins dispelled any awkwardness and they
slowly began to move their hands up and down the
bone-hard rods.
"Lay down on your side and face me," Billy said.

Kim did as he was asked and rested his forehead on
Billy's as he resumed working his hand.
Wriggling about a little to get comfortable, they
fixed their full attention on each other's groins as
hands moved in unison, wanking slowly and gently,
every millisecond being savoured and stored
in their memory. Billy picked up the pace as he felt
the tingly feeling rising in his belly. Faster and
faster he went, Kim following as best he could. Before
either boy knew what was happening, they
bucked and trembled, shook and shivered as their joint
orgasm hit them full force. Their hips
thrust forward violently and their dicks touched,
spurting cum onto each other with a speed and
force which took them both by complete surprise. Jets
of white juice sprayed them both, covering
their balls and thighs in a sheen of glorious spunk.
They fell onto each other, gasping for breath,
eyes locked together in mutual wonderment.

"That was fuckin' amazin." Billy eventually managed to
stammer out. "Better than when I do it."
Kim, unluckily, had nothing to compare it with. All he
knew what that he felt terrific, wonderful,
amazing, all at the same time. He hugged Billy tightly
and pressed his softening dick into his
groin.

After they'd calmed down a bit, they sat up and looked
at each other without saying a word.
Neither knew what to say. They'd had a truly
incredible experience together: far, far different to
that which Kim had expected, and much better than
Billy had imagined. Now feeling slightly
flustered, they wordlessly got dressed and crept out
of the building. Once out on the main road,
they punched each other on the arm, giggled at one
another and ran towards home. As they
separated at their front doors, Billy pulled Kim to
him and whispered, "That was awesome.
Wanna do it again tomorrow?" Kim nodded: nothing would
stop him from doing it again and
again and ....


Chapter Four.

Billy slowed down as he approached the front door to
his flat. If he got home too excited, his
mother would want to know why he was so cheerful, what
he'd been doing, and a million other
questions.  That's if she was awake and sober that is.


Today she was, and in a bad mood as well. Something
had gone wrong that day: Billy didn't ask
what, he didn't care. He accepted her foul-mouthed
tirade stoically as usual. He had the technique
down to a fine art: stand in front of her, just out of
arm's length, hands behind you and look at the
floor. When she ran out of steam, say 'Sorry': doesn't
matter whether he knew what he was
apologising for or not. And wait until she said he
could go: depending on her mood it would be a
'piss off' or a 'fuck off'. Either way it made no
difference. Today it was a 'piss off, runt'. He walked
to the kitchen, made his own tea from the scraps that
were around, and went to his room to wait
until nightfall.

He stripped down to his pants and lay on the bed, arms
under his head, thinking. He'd cum five
times since last night and it felt OK. His dick was a
bit sore after last night, and Kim was a bit
rough on it, but it didn't matter, he was happy with
the way things were. Mostly anyway. He
thought about Kim. He was a good mate and usually fun
to be with, apart from his funny ideas
about not swearing and 'behaving properly' and his
immaculate clothes which he didn't like getting
dirty. His house was  always clean and tidy and
smelled of perfume or something. Whenever he
went inside, he felt awkward and never sat down
anywhere because he was sure he would leave
dirty marks. Billy looked round his bedroom, mentally
comparing it with Kim's house. No
comparison. For some reason he felt guilty about it
and got to his feet.
First he sorted out the pile of clothes on the floor.
It wasn't easy sorting out the 'clean' from the
'dirty', but he tried, putting the least-stained and
marked in one pile and the other dirtier stuff in
another. He stuffed the 'clean' clothes into the draws
and rammed the dirty clothes into a plastic
carrier bag to hide them. He stacked up his few comics
and books into neatish piles and tidied up
the few pictures and toys he had. More toys, hitherto
left where he'd finished playing with them
were stashed in a cardboard box and pushed into a
corner. The room was looking better already
and he lay back on the bed, pleased with the result.

Nine o'clock came and he cautiously peeped round the
door. His mother was dozing, a half-empty
Sherry bottle on the table. He carefully crept out and
pulled the door closed after him. Tonight he
decided to head straight for the bogs just the other
side of the town centre. On the way he
happened to glance in a newsagents window and a row of
magazines high up on the wall caught
his attention. They were the same sort as the one he
had, but wrapped in plastic bags and put high
enough up the wall that he couldn't reach them, even
if he did have enough money to buy one,
which he never would. Shrugging his shoulders
philosophically he wandered off in the direction of
the toilets.

There was nothing new on the walls, but he still read
the messages anyway. He was beginning to
understand them a little better, even since last
night. The fun he'd had with Kim explained a lot: if
him and Kim liked what they did, then other people
must too and that's why they wanted to meet.
He even looked at the drawings of pricks up bums in a
different way, perhaps there might be
something in it after all, but there was no way he
would want to do it. The holes through the walls
drew his attention next.  They were lower than the
ones in the football field bogs, and bigger too.
Still with his trousers on, he pressed himself against
one and discovered that he could just about
reach it, and because the walls weren't as thick,
could probably push his prick all the way through.
He slipped his hand into the torn pocket and started
to play with himself until his prick was hard.
Once he felt it good and solid, he sat down on the
seat, undid his trousers and pushed them down
to his knees. He thought for a second of taking them
right off so's he could stretch out, but
decided against it in case he had to make a quick
escape. Stroking his erection thoughtfully, he
realised that this was the first time he'd touched his
cock since Kim had wanked him off. The
erotic memory stiffened it even more and he closed his
eyes as he recalled the fantastic feeling of
Kim's soft skin and black fingers on his dick.

He was snapped out of his reverie by the sound of the
next door banging shut and the bolt being
slid home. Panicking he bent down to pull his trousers
up when he caught a glimpse of a man
through the hole. He was standing up loosening his
trousers before he sat down. The panic attack
subsided a bit and Billy picked a scrap of toilet
paper up off the floor and stuffed it in the hole so's
the man couldn't see through. His dick had softened
because of his scare, but now he felt safer he
stroked it again as he thought about the man next
door. Maybe, just maybe, he might be able to
snatch a look at his dick through the hole without him
knowing. Holding his dick tightly in one
hand, as if for support, he very carefully tried to
ease the paper out just enough for him to peek
through. For a piece of paper so small, it made an
incredible amount of noise as it moved and
Billy let it go instantly, cursing himself for jamming
it in so tight. Then an incredible thing
happened - the ball of paper seemed to move all by
itself, working its way out of the hole. He
stared, fascinated as it inched its way further and
further out. Then it dropped to the floor; Billy
just caught sight of a finger hastily pulled back. So
that was it! Whoever was in the next cubicle
wanted to look through the hole. Panting heavily,
Billy tried to think what to do next. He badly
wanted to see the man's dick, but did the man want to
see his tiny little thing, especially since he
was only a boy and didn't even have any cock hairs
yet?

Nervously he bent over keeping an eye firmly fixed on
the hole. As he gradually saw more and
more through it, he could swear he caught a glimpse of
another eye looking back at him but it
backed off as he got closer. Cautiously, very
cautiously, he got closer. First he saw the man's
black trousers: he seemed to be standing up in front
of the hole. He got nearer the hole. He was
right, the man was standing up facing the hole, and he
had his dick out! The stranger was playing
with it right in front of the hole so's Billy could
see everything! He pressed his forehead against
the cold brickwork and stared with his one eye at the
sight, The man had a bigger dick than Billy
of course, but not all that much, and it was hard
because the man was stroking it up and down
slowly, just as if he knew Billy was looking at it.
Billy examined it carefully. He had brown curly
hairs all round it which seemed to make it look nicer.
He had big balls which had a covering of
hair as well: the man was holding them in one hand as
he wanked himself with the other.
Billy felt his dick stir in his own much smaller hand
as he rubbed it: he was dimly aware that he
was leaking that stuff out as well. This was exciting
and he kept looking at the man's big cock as
if he was in a trance, wanking his own dick
absent-mindedly.
Then the man moved. He bent down and put his eye
towards the hole: Billy stood back, suddenly
frightened for some reason, but then guessed that it
was his turn to show the man his dick. He
didn't really want to let him see it because it was so
small and didn't have no hair like his, but then
he thought that it was only fair, after all he'd let
him see his. Nervously he stood back and turned
to face the hole, his pants down at his knees. He
stroked his dick, which was still hard and
sticking straight out in front of him, sliding his
fingers up and down it and holding his balls just
like he'd seen the man do. He turned his body slightly
so's the man could see all round it and even
stood facing him so's he could see the end dripping
the stuff as well.
Billy thought he heard the man say, 'Nice one', but he
wasn't sure. Then he heard him again, "Very
nice." He sounded out of breath. Billy relaxed a
little, the man wasn't pissed off 'cause of his size.
Then he spoke again. "Can I suck it?"

Billy didn't believe what he'd heard. Did he hear
right? Did the man want to suck his cock? He
bent over and put his ear to the hole.

"Want it sucked?"

Billy's heart missed a beat. The man actually wanted
to suck him! Eagerly and without a moment's
hesitation he stood up and pushed his dick into the
hole, pressing his groin against the wall as hard
as he could and waited with bated breath to see what
happened next.
He jumped with surprise as he felt warm, wet lips
close around the end of his dick and a tongue
start to lick it. The sensation was incredible. The
combination of a wet tongue flicking round the
sensitive end of his cock and the gentle sucking were
wonderful. Billy took a sharp intake of
breath and moaned, forcing his body even tighter
against the wall to get every last millimetre of
his dick into the man's mouth. It was ecstasy. He
could only manage to get a tiny bit of the end of
his cock into his mouth, but the little he was getting
sucked gave him the most breathtaking
delight: he felt his legs tremble uncontrollably as
the tongue flicked around his piss slit, sending
him into paroxysms of moans and groans. Then just as
he thought he was going to make the white
stuff shoot out, he felt the mouth being taken away,
leaving his frustrated dick throbbing in the
air. He waited for then man to do it again, but
nothing happened. Sadly he pulled his cock out and
stared at it, the wet saliva glistening in the dim
light.
Then he heard the man's voice again, speaking very
quietly. "Come in here," it said.
Billy thought about it. Did he want to go in there
with him? It was dangerous: he didn't know who
it was and what he would do. He might hit him or
something for being so dirty and perverted. But
then it was such a good feeling that he wanted some
more, and the man had done it once: perhaps
he wanted to do it properly and suck all of his dick
and make him come properly. Billy made his
mind up. Fuck the danger, he wanted his cock sucked
again, all of it.
Pulling his trousers up and holding them together with
his hand, he unbolted the door and
checked to make sure the coast was clear. He heard the
bolt unfasten on the next-door cubicle
and the door open just a fraction. Hurriedly he ran
the two paces and went in, closing the door
behind him and looked for the first time at the man.
He didn't seem very old - about 20 Billy
thought, with a thin face and body, brown curly hair
and a nice smile. Billy relaxed.
The man stared back at Billy with wide eyes. "Christ!
How old are you?" he asked, the surprise
evident in his voice. Billy blushed and stared at the
floor: I'm too little and too small he thought,
he don't wanna do it.

"Twelve, nearly thirteen," he stammered out.

"You've got a nice big dick for a little boy," the man
said as he took it in his hand and stroked it.
"How long have you been doing this?"

Billy didn't know what to say. He didn't want to tell
him it was his first time and he didn't want to
say he'd been doing it for ages either, so he said
nothing. The man didn't ask again. Instead he sat
down on the bowl and pulled Billy between his legs.
Putting his hands round his bum, he
encouraged Billy to move towards him as he opened his
mouth to accept his slightly softened
cock. Then he closed his lips round it and stared to
lick hungrily on Billy's shaft. Instantly he got
hard again and closed his eyes, allowing the warm,
tingly feeling to wash over his body. He put
his hands in the man's hair and pushed his hips
forward, pressing his dick even further into the
warm, wet cavity of the man's mouth. He moaned as he
felt his tongue running over every bit of
his dick, even managing to get inside the bit of skin
at the end and licking round his cock head.
Once more his legs began to shake and tremble and he
had to put his hands on the man's shoulders
to stop himself from falling over. He opened his eyes
and stared down. The man was wanking
himself as he slid Billy's cock in and out of his
mouth and Billy hardened up even more as he
watched.

Billy dug his fingernails into the man's shoulders, he
felt his legs trembling and an awesome glow
spread throughout his body as the tongue flicked round
his dick. Automatically he thrust his groin
in and out, matching the man's sucking motions. Slowly
he became aware he was getting close to
shooting out his spunk and pushed his cock in with
more and more urgency, willing the man to
suck harder. He felt his balls tighten up and the now
welcomed swelling of his cock. Then, with
one final lunge he shoved his throbbing boyhood deep
into the waiting throat and fired out his
pellets of cum: violently and noisily. He groaned both
with the pain and the pleasure of the
ejaculation, the man moaning with him and swallowing
every last drop as if his very life depended
on it. Billy collapsed forward onto the man's chest,
recovered and leant back on the wall, gasping
for breath, eyes glazed. He was vaguely aware of the
man still wanking himself, watching as he
shook and jerked almost as much as Billy had, and shot
his massive load of spunk out onto the
walls and floor.

They half-smiled at each other with a mixture of sheer
ecstasy and slight embarrassment. The man
whispered, "That was bloody fantastic! Jesus!"

Billy still couldn't speak, instead he broadened his
grin and felt happy and content.
Once they'd gathered their wits, they dressed quickly
and silently, not quite knowing what to say
to each other. The man opened the door a little,
checked that there was no one there and leaned
over to Billy. He thought he was going to kiss him at
first and recoiled, but he whispered in his
ear, "That was fucking brilliant, I hope we can meet
again. But next time, have a bath first!"
Five minutes later when he was walking slowly back
towards home and his mind had stopped
doing somersaults, he was replaying the events,
smiling to himself and fingering his half-hard dick
through his pocket, when he remembered the man's last
words, ' have a bath!'.
Keeping himself properly clean had never been a major
priority in Billy's eyes: he'd always taken
his lead from his mother. Washing at the bathroom sink
was usually considered enough, with an
occasional perfunctory strip-wash if he was in the
mood. The bath was almost always full of dirty
washing, waiting for his mother to get round to doing
something about it. There wasn't usually
any hot water anyway: the heater was only switched on
when it was needed, and Billy getting a
bath wasn't considered a need except maybe once a week
when he went to meet his father. He
took his hand out of his pocket and smelt it. The man
was right, it didn't smell too good. He
wasn't really surprised; after all his dick had been
covered several times with the white stuff and
spunk, and now the man's spit as well. Even to begin
with, his undies weren't too clean anyway,
which didn't help. He sighed, knowing he aught do
something about it, but not knowing what. His
mother certainly wouldn't be any help. Pushing the
unpleasant thoughts to the back of his mind, he
refreshed the images of getting his cock sucked for
the first time and started to jog home.
His mother wasn't in sight when he cautiously opened
his front door: he assumed she was in bed.
Creeping to his room, he closed the door and sat on
the bed. Thoughtfully he undressed, looking
closely at his clothes as he took them off. For the
first time, he saw just how grubby and scruffy
they were compared with those of all the other boys he
knew. Even his newest clothes weren't
much better than the ones he had just taken off. What
were once bright white underpants always
seemed to turn a light shade of grey after being worn
and washed just once. He thought of Kim,
with his permanently white shirts and underwear and
spotless trousers. Feeling depressed and
pissed off, he lay back on the bed, pulled the covers
over him and put his hands in his groin. At
least he had one thing that made him happy.

He waited until his cock was stiff and slowly wanked
himself off, letting all his problems disappear
as he concentrated on the delight of slowly and
sensuously masturbating himself. When he came,
he allowed the spunk to shoot where it wanted, not
caring in the slightest: he was already dirty
and smelly, his clothes were dirty and smelly, even
his room was dirty and smelly. He licked his
fingers clean, wiped up a bit more he could feel on
his tummy, swallowed that, and drifted off to
sleep.

______________________________________________________________________________
Chapter Five

Billy woke early the following morning with something
one his mind, but he didn't know what.
There was something he had to do, but ..............?
He put his hand on his morning boner, and
started to play with it. No, that was nice and made
him feel better, but that wasn't it. Then he
remembered. He glanced at the clock, saw he had about
an hour before he had to leave for school
and lay back thinking.

  Gradually it dawned on him. The smell. With no
little embarrassment now, he realised that the
usual odour of stale sweat in his room had changed,
and instantly he knew what it was. If he
could smell it, so could others, including his mother
and Kim. He decided there and then to try
and do something about his hygiene. First he searched
for the cleanest paid of undies he had. It
didn't take very long as he only had two clean pairs,
and they weren't all that good. They didn't
smell too bad though, and he put them on. Next he went
to the bathroom and tried to have a good
all-over wash, the water was only slightly warm and he
soon gave that idea up as the tepid water
hit his sensitive prick and balls, making him cringe.
He dried himself and went back to his room,
got dressed and waited for his mother to get up.

Once he heard her moving around, he nervously opened
the door and walked through to the
kitchen where she was having a cup of tea. She looked
at him questioningly, teacup to her lips.
"Couldn't sleep," he said, hoping this would satisfy
her.

"Mmmm," was the only reply. She sat down at the
kitchen table and added, "Seeing as you're up
so early, you can get your own fuckin' breakfast,"
then proceeded to ignore him. He chose not to
tell her that he always got his own breakfast.

He made a drink and some toast and went to sit in the
other room away from his mother, so he
could think. He had a germ of an idea and wanted to
work on it.
Billy arrived at school almost an hour earlier than he
usually did, and was one of the first boys
there. This was important. He checked the cars in the
staff car park and saw with relief that Mr
Brown's car was already there, in its usual spot.
Taking his courage in both hands, he headed off
to the gym. Billy liked Mr Brown, he was his PE and
History teacher and they'd always got on
well together, mainly because Billy was good at PE and
Mr Brown never hassled him. He
knocked on his office door nervously.

"Come in," said a voice.

Billy went in to see his teacher sat at the desk
reading. He turned to face Billy and asked him what
he wanted.

"Sir," Billy started, then paused not knowing quite
how to proceed.
"Yes? What can we do for you?" Mr. Brown said kindly,
curious as to why a boy should be here
so early in the morning

"Sir, would you mind if I had a shower? The one at
home is broken, and ..............." he tailed off,
his nerve gone. This wasn't going to work; he felt
stupid and ashamed of himself.
Tom Brown knew Billy, and was well aware of his
background. He knew they didn't have a
shower at home, hell, he hardly even had a home! But
the boy was upset and frightened about
something. He stood up and put an arm on Billy's
shoulder, bringing him to the middle of the
room. The lad was right, he needed a shower badly, and
unless he was mistaken, mixed up in the
smell of boy was that unmistakable smell of stale sex.
Smiling inwardly to himself, and also feeling
sorry for the lad, he made a snap decision.

"Do you want to use mine, or would you prefer to go
into the changing rooms?"
Billy lifted his head up and looked at his teacher,
tears in the corner of his eyes for some reason.
"This one, if I can." The thought of being in the big
changing room by himself, naked, worried
him.

"OK. It's all yours."

The teacher's shower was simply a white-tiled
box-shaped structure without either curtain or
door, just a deep porcelain tray set in the floor in
the corner of the office.
"Drop your clothes on the chair," he added as he
turned the water on and returned to his desk,
thinking.

Billy stripped off after glancing round to make sure
Mr Brown wasn't watching him get stripped.
He piled his clothes on the chair ands stepped into
the hot, steaming spray. It was lovely. He
turned his face up to the needles of water and rubbed
them into his head and body letting the
warmth soothe away his stress.

He jumped as a hand touched his shoulder. Spinning
round and opening his eyes, he saw Mr.
Brown holding out some shampoo and soap towards him.

"Here, use these, they might help," he smiled and
tussled his wet hair. "Take as long as you like."
Billy reached out and took them, smiling back, all
nervousness now gone.
Taking the opportunity, Tom Brown looked they boy over
quickly and carefully. It wasn't
unknown for lads from his background to suffer
physical abuse, and it was an important part of
his job to notify the authorities in such cases.
Fortunately, there were no such signs, just an
underweight, slightly undersized boy, well on the way
to sexual maturity. He turned and saw his
clothes piled on the chair. They were filthy, recently
washed maybe, but still dirty. He picked the
trousers up and turned them over, eying the stains in
the crotch. They confirmed why the boy
wanted to shower so desperately: he was most certainly
sexually active as well as sexually
developed! Smiling broadly, he dropped the trousers
back on the chair and went to the store
room.

Two minutes later he was back with a couple of pairs
of trousers and some pants in his hand. He
sat on his chair, arms folded on the back of it,
watching the boy shower. It wasn't very often, very
rarely in fact, that he had the chance to watch a
beautiful adolescent boy shower himself in
privacy. He adjusted his cock under his sweat pants.

Billy was thoroughly enjoying the shower, taking great
pleasure in rubbing the soap all over
himself and rinsing it off. He wasn't aware that he
had an erection starting, but Mr Brown knew.
Having done his hair, twice, Billy reluctantly turned
the shower off and waved his hands about
vaguely in the direction he thought a towel was. Mr
Brown stood up, walked over and handed
Billy the towel.

Stepping out of the tray with his head covered by the
towel, he tripped slightly and stumbled
forward, to be caught by his teacher. He pulled the
towel away, looked at Mr Brown and
mumbled a thanks, aware his hands were still holding
him round the chest, and not minding in the
least. Mr Brown stood and waited until Billy was dry
and handed him the clean pants he'd found.
"Try these on, if you want. They're lost property and
nobody has claimed them, so you can have
them if they fit. Automatically Billy pulled them on,
realising with acute embarrassment at the
same time that he had a boner, pointing unashamedly at
his teacher! He blushed bright crimson as
he stared at it.

"Don't worry!" Mr Brown laughed, "It's not the first
one I've seen!" Or the last I hope, he thought
to himself.

Billy finished putting the pants on, slightly
confused.

"Here, see if these fit."

Billy looked at the trousers, and picking the pair he
thought would fit, put them on. He examined
himself and decided they were OK. "Thanks!" he said,
still slightly bemused.
"Keep them."

Billy felt great in his new pants and trousers and
would have loved to keep them on, but .... "I - I -
I can't," Billy stammered. "If Mum sees them, she'll
go mad, 'specially if she finds out the school
gave 'em to me. We ain't poor you know." His defensive
hackles had risen. He knew just how
little money they had, he knew how badly they lived as
well, but she was still his mother and much
as he would've liked to keep the clothes, he knew
she'd go apeshit if she found out.
"Tell you what," Tom Brown said kindly, "How about if
you got to school early, changed into
these for the day and changed again before you went
home?"
It took only a split second for Billy to make his mind
up. Grinning widely, he took a step forwards
and was about to hug Mr Brown, but just in time
remembered who he was. "oh, err, err, thanks,
Sir!" he said. "Would it be alright to do that?"

"Yep. Sure it would. But only one thing though," he
added, "It's got to be our little secret."
There was no particular reason why it should be kept a
secret; clothes were often 'lent' to boys
who'd had an accident or torn their clothes or
something. But this time, he felt that there might be
some mileage in building up a relationship with this
lad. In any case, there was very little
likelihood of Billy telling anyone where he got his
new trousers from, it was just that he wanted to
watch the boy change twice a day.

Billy smiled conspiratorially at Mr Brown and promised
he'd keep it a secret.
He walked proudly to his first lesson of the day,
feeling better than he had for a very long time.
He was clean, he felt good, he even smelled good. And
he had trousers and pants on that weren't
torn and dirty. Mentally, he thanked Mr Brown, and in
some ways regretted not hugging him
when he nearly did. Why did his cock start to get hard
and a picture of that man in the toilet flash
across his mind when he thought of his PE teacher?
Shrugging his shoulders at the probably
unconnected association, he went into his English
lesson.


Chapter Six.

Kim had decided not to meet up with Billy again, not
for the sort of thing they'd done yesterday
anyway. He'd spent a very uncomfortable night thinking
about it. It got so's he couldn't think of
anything else; he'd been fidgeting all evening, unable
to concentrate on anything at all except Billy
and the things between their legs. He was sure he mum
and dad could read his mind and knew just
what dirty and perverted things they'd done together.
But they were nice though, that was the
worst thing about it: he would have loved to do it
again, but was afraid. He had a bath and went
to bed, hoping he would feel better in the morning.

With his bedroom light out and the house quietened
down for the night, he lay back and despite
his best efforts couldn't help thinking about it
again. Why did something he liked so much and
made him feel so good, make him feel so bad at the
same time? He put his hand inside his pyjamas
and felt for his penis.

It was already half-hard he thought to himself, and it
still felt good to hold. It got harder as he
automatically stroked it like Billy had done. The
feeling came back that he'd had in that smelly
awful room that he and Billy had been in - it was
nice. He carried on stroking it, gradually letting
his hand go faster and faster, the sensations
spreading out from his penis and testicles spreading
all through him, making his body hot and
super-sensitive. He stopped what he was doing,
hurriedly removed his pyjamas, and started again. That
was much better. He held his testicles
lightly and allowed himself to concentrate on this
terrific new feeling. Quicker and quicker he
went until he felt a dull sort of ache in his
testicles, but still he carried on, simply unable to
stop
even if he wanted to. Then it happened again, his
penis grew a bit, then throbbed and finally
spurting out that white liquid again. At the same time
his whole body seemed to go stiff and his
back bent upwards, lifting his groin and spasming
penis into the air. Kim watched as the liquid
arched high up in the air and fell onto his chest and
legs before slowing down to a dribble running
over his fingers. Boy was that good! He gasped for
breath as he listened intently for any
movement in the house, certain that his parents must
know by now what he was doing.  There
was a deathly silence, much to his relief. He
understood now why Billy had to share his brilliant
discovery with him - it was unbelievably satisfying.

Once he'd recovered his composure, he became aware of
two things. Firstly he was covered in a
white, sticky mess which had to be cleaned up.
Secondly, he would do it again if Billy asked: the
chance of doing it again just couldn't be missed. He
cleaned the mess up with his pyjama trousers
before putting them back on, and wondered if he would
see Billy tomorrow.

Chapter Seven.

Billy had a wonderful day. He actually enjoyed his
lessons and took an active part in them for a
change. Even the teachers and other boys seemed to
take notice of him and listened to what he
had to say. Neither was he aware of anybody taking the
piss out of him which they usually did.
The only thing that went slightly wrong was that he
couldn't find Kim anywhere, one reason being
that he went into the library at lunch-time to see
what he could find out about 'growing up', lost
track of time and missed the chance. Still, perhaps
they'd meet up after school. After he'd changed
out of his nice clothes.

When school finished for the day, Billy took his time
clearing up his things and walked slowly
towards the gym block; he didn't want to get there
before the other kids left. He was also oddly
excited. This morning, he didn't like getting
undressed in front of his teacher, even less did he
like
having a shower in full view of him. But that feeling
had vanished after a while because Mr Brown
had made him feel so special and looked after him: he
didn't even make fun of him when he got a
hard on. Now he knew it was OK and in a funny sort of
way was even looking forward to it.
He put his head round the half-open door and saw Mr
Brown sat on his desk. "Hello, Sir. Is it
alright if I get changed?" he asked.

"Yes, of course. Come in."

Billy walked in, shutting the door behind him
carefully. He saw his old clothes piled neatly on the
chair where he'd left them this morning and walked
over to them. Unsure what to do, he picked
them all up in a bundle and looked at his teacher.

"Get changed here if you like, or you can go next door
into the changing room. Do you want
another shower?"

"Err, no thanks. I'll change here though, if that's
OK."

"Sure."

Tom Brown sat on his chair, watching the boy undress.

"So, what sort of day have you had, Billy?" he said
without taking his eyes off him.
"Good, thanks. At least nobody gave me a boll ....., a
telling off today," he smiled as he removed
his shoes and socks.

They carried on talking as Billy undid his trousers,
started to take them off and paused. He
glanced at Mr Brown and didn't mind the fact that he
was watching him, he rather liked it in fact -
it gave him that tingly feeling in his balls.

Mr Brown stood up and said, "Sorry, Billy, Do you want
me to go?"
"No, not really. I don't mind." He took his trousers
off and began to peel his pants down. His dick
was about half hard now and got harder as he stepped
out of his undies. He was neither
embarrassed or afraid now, just a little bit excited.
He stood up and gave Mr Brown a grin before
turning his back to grab his old undies.

Both of them were thinking along the same lines.
'Perhaps he likes doing things. Maybe ....' Billy
mused.
'I wonder if he would .......?' the teacher thought.

There was a certain tenseness in the air as Tom
watched Billy finish dressing. They both found it
exciting.

"Having another shower in the morning?" Tom asked as
Billy carefully folded his new clothes up
and placed them on the chair.

"Yeah, if I can," Billy answered. "I'll be here in the
morning. Same time?"
"Yes, that'll be fine."

"Thanks!" Billy said. He would have liked to stay and
talk for a while, but as he couldn't think of a
good reason, he said, "Cheerio," and gave him a huge
smile.
There was no sign of Kim as he walked home. Billy was
late, he knew, but not all that much:
fifteen minutes maybe, but not more. He debated
whether or not to go to 'The House' and snatch
a quick look at his book before going home. It didn't
seem quite so appealing to him now, there
were other, much better, things to make him feel good.
He added Mr Tom Brown to the
collection of thoughts that made his dick get hard,
and wandered off in the direction of home.
By the time Billy reached his flat, Kim had changed
out of his school uniform, had his tea and was
waiting on the communal balcony for his friend to show
up. They smiled at each other and leaned
over the wall, looking at the ground so far below.

"You're late home," Kim said conversationally.

"Yeah. I took the long way round for a change."

"Right."

Kim desperately wanted Billy to ask him if he felt
like doing 'it' again. He didn't have the courage
to ask him himself, but imagined if he thought hard
enough about it, some sort of telepathic
message might get through. Billy's mind was on other
things though, his tea for one. He was
hungry. He also felt slightly unclean. He'd been
wearing those nice clean clothes all day, and the
shock of having to put on his own things back on to go
home in made him uncomfortable and
itchy.

"You smell different. Had a bath?" Kim asked out of
the blue. He wasn't being nasty or anything
like that, just a comment.

"Yeah. I spilt some stuff on me at school and had to
have a shower." He was a practised liar: he
had to be.

"Oh. You smell nice anyway."

Billy glanced at Kim and smiled, pleased that he'd
said how good he smelt. That was a first,
usually it was quite the opposite. His glance dropped
down to Kim's groin and saw the bright
gleam of a zip curving over his erection.

"Wanna, you know, do something?" Billy asked, suddenly
forgetting all about his stomach.
"Yes, OK, if you like. Where?" Kim replied as casually
as his elation would allow.
"The house?" Billy replied. It would take about ten
minutes each way, plus another ten or twenty
minutes there. That gave him half an hour, give or
take; he wouldn't be missed.
"OK, then." Kim said, more excited than he dared show.

Despite both their attempts to be casual, they were
there in just over five minutes. Once in the
room, stretched out looking at each other's groins,
they smiled at each other, still unsure of what
do to next.

"Wanna get it out?" Billy asked.

Billy thought he'd asked Kim if he wanted to get his
own dick out first, and was a bit surprised
when Kim grinned, said, "Yes," and reached over to
unfasten Billy's trousers.
Unfazed, but mentally jumping for joy, he leaned over
and returned the favour.
"That's nice!" Billy muttered as once more he held
Kim's raging boner in the palm of his hand.
"Mmmmm, so's your's," Kim answered.

The boys made a sort of circle on the blanket, heads
and toes touching and their hands reaching
across to fondle each other gently.

"Wanna take your trousers off?" Billy asked, "I can't
reach it properly."
Kim was having the same problem, but was reluctant to
get undressed any more than he was, 'just
in case'.

"No, but we can push 'em down a bit if you like."

This done, Billy and Kim stared at each other's
groins, intrigued. Neither had had the opportunity
to look at anyone else in the same way they were now,
and they were fascinated. Kim's black skin
shone in the half-light, with a beautiful brown/black
sheen. His four-inch dick was a bit darker in
colour, which made his purple cockhead seem bigger and
much nicer-looking.
Billy's pink, almost white skin was delightfully soft
and yielding, giving up a warm glow as Kim
ran his hands over it. Billy's cock was shiny with
that stuff leaking on it, making it look almost
transparent. They started to pull and push their hands
along the steel-hard shafts, giving each
stroke a little twist to make it feel better. Once in
a while their eyes made contact and a happy,
contented smile was exchanged.

"When did you do it last?" Kim asked curiously, now
finding it surprisingly hard to breath.
"Last night. You?" Billy replied.

"Same. Made a big mess though." He giggled at the
recollection.
"Yeah, it does sometimes," Billy said, staring at the
beautiful dick he was slowly jerking off. Idly,
he wondered what it would taste like. He was just
about to suggest it when he bit his tongue and
thought better of it. Kim, he sensed, wasn't ready for
that sort of thing yet.
Their hands sped up, each losing himself in the
sensations of being wanked and wanking at the
same time. In their admittedly short lives, they
already knew there was no other feeling like it.
Almost frantically they worked one another up towards
the inevitable orgasm which both so badly
wanted.

"I'm coming," Billy panted, "Now!" He almost screamed
as he shot his volcano-hot spunk out in
four massive spurts, each ending up in Kim's groin. He
thrust his hips forward as he shot out his
last effort and met Kim's cock coming towards him.

"Me too," Kim just managed to say as his load spasmed
out along Billy's stomach, their cocks
now side-by-side, Kim almost laying on top of his
friend.

Billy put his arms round Kim and hugged him tight as
his cock gave one last desperate spasm.
Kim's face was inches from Billy's, their noses almost
touching. Without thinking, Billy pushed
Kim's head down and kissed him quickly on the lips,
letting him go instantly as he realised what
he'd done.

"Fuck it!" he said forcefully, "Fuck it, oh Jesus, I'm
sorry, Kim. I didn't mean it, honest."
Kim was shocked. Not so much by the fact that he'd
just been kissed by a boy, but by the fact that
he didn't mind.

"That's OK, Billy," he replied quietly. "I didn't
mind, honestly. It just surprised me, that's all."
Billy breathed a sigh of relief and grinned, pleased
that his friend wasn't totally pissed off by his
stupid behaviour.

Kim hadn't moved an inch: he was still in something of
a state of shock, not only from his massive
ejaculation, but also the kiss. Smiling, he gave Billy
an equally quick peck on his lips, and said,
"There. Now we're equal."

They sat upright, cross-legged and giggled at each
other.

"Awesome!" Billy said.

"Brilliant!" Kim replied.

Both boys now being satisfied, at least for the time
being, they dressed and walked home.
Billy's mother was in a fairly good mood for a change
and gave him no aggro as he walked in the
front door. He could guess why, there was that
familiar man scent in the house again. He also
now recognised the odour instantly, after all he'd
smelt it often enough the past few days. He
wrinkled his nose, shuddered involuntarily and went to
find his tea. A phrase he'd heard
somewhere came to mind - 'What's sauce for the goose
is sauce for the gander.' He smiled to
himself and began to eat.

Billy didn't go out that night. Apart from anything
else, he felt a bit tired. It'd been a long and
strange day for him. A good one though, a very good
one in fact. He sat in the easy chair, turning
things over in his mind.
After pretending to watch tv for a couple of hours, he
went to his room. He lay on his bed, picked
up a pile of comics and skimmed through them, one hand
inside his trousers. Had he but known it,
Kim was doing almost exactly the same thing in his
bedroom except he was completely naked and
wanking himself off, thinking of Billy and the kiss.


Chapter Eight.

Billy was at school early again the following morning,
this time going straight to the gym before
any other kids saw him. He tried the office door,
which, as he half expected, was locked: if it'd
been open, somehow he knew that Mr Brown wouldn't have
minded if he'd waited in there for
him. Going into the changing room, he lay on the
wooden bench, folded his arms over his eyes
and waited.

Fifteen minutes later, he heard the key turn in the
lock. Getting to his feet he went and knocked
on the door. After only a slight pause, he heard Mr.
Brown invite him in. He was stood at his
desk, pouring himself a cup of tea from his flask,
still with his outdoor coat on.
"Hello, young man. You're bright and early today," he
smiled.
"Sorry," Billy replied, "I'll come back later if you
like." For an instant he thought he'd blown it by
being too anxious and getting here so early.

"No, that's alright. Come and take a pew." Mr Brown
pulled up a spare chair and waited for Billy
to sit down.

"No problems at home about, you-know-what?" he was
asked.

"No, nothing," he smiled.

"Good. Want a drink?"

Billy hadn't a clue what he was being offered, but
took it anyway. It was tea, hot and sweet.
They sat in a comfortable silence for a while and
finished their drink.
"You going to take your shower now?" Mr Brown asked.

"Yeah, if I can."

"Sure. Would you mind if I got changed while you're in
the shower?" Mr Brown asked.
"No, 'course not. I'd like ...... I mean, I don't
mind," Billy stammered out, blushing at what he'd
almost said. Why did this man make him feel so
strange, and make him blush so easily?
"Good," he replied as he went in search of Billy's
school things.
They half-watched each other as they stripped. Billy
wasn't sure what Mr Brown meant exactly by
'getting changed', he assumed he meant putting his
school PE stuff on and wondered how much
he took off first.

Billy stripped, leaving his undies until last, hiding
his erection for as long as possible. Mr Brown
stripped down to his pants as well and watched as
Billy removed the last item of his clothing. His
dick sprung upwards and outwards, once again sticking
out at Mr Brown. He grinned and stood
still.

"The soap and stuff is over there," Mr Brown said,
pointing to a shelf on the far wall. He made no
effort to go and get it for him, preferring to sit on
the desk and watch the boy go and get it.
Billy didn't mind in the slightest. He walked over to
the shelf, picked up the things and walked
back, his cock and balls bouncing provocatively in
front of him.
A bulge began to rise in Mr Brown's boxers.

Once the water temperature was adjusted, Billy turned
round to face the room, and Mr Brown.
He saw the rising tent and almost jumped for joy as he
realised he was going to be OK with him.
Starting at his feet, he soaped his body up as far as
his groin and washed himself, only stopping
himself with great difficulty from actually rubbing
his now painfully erect cock.
Hr rinsed the soap off his legs and started to wash
his waist and groin area, watching his teacher
out of the corner of his eye. Not only was there was a
definite pole sticking up now, but also a
spreading wet patch as well.

"I thought you were going to get changed," Billy said
mischievously, with a glint in his eye. "I
don't mind."

Tom Brown swallowed and stared at Billy. Who was
seducing whom? Did he dare? He'd fancied
a lot of the boys he'd taught, and even felt the
cocks, 'accidentally', of a few of them, but he'd
never actually acted on his urges other than ogling
them as they changed. But now .....? Billy was
definitely giving him the come-on, of that he was
certain.
Slowly and deliberately he walked over to the door,
locked it and turned the lights off, leaving the
high windows to provide the only light.

"Just in case anyone comes," he said. If Billy picked
that one up, he knew he was right.
"Good," said Billy. "I feel safer now."

That was it. He was locked in to the situation. Tacit
approval had been given for him to make the
next move, if he wanted. Did he want? Yes, definitely.
Did he dare? He thought about it for the
two seconds it took for him to walk from his desk to
the shower. Yes. He dared.
"Want me to wash your hair for you?" he asked, his
voice now a sensual growl.
"Mmmmmm. Yes please." Billy said, moving over in the
shower to make room for him. It was
happening! He was actually going to have a shower,
naked, with a man! Not only a man, but a
teacher as well! The thought or even possibility
hadn't even crossed his mind until Mr Brown had
asked him if he minded him getting changed whilst he
had a shower, and from then on things just
seemed to go on. He hadn't a clue as to how it had
happened, but he couldn't give a toss, that
wasn't important in the slightest. This was the best
and most important thing: he was getting into
the tiny shower with him!

Tom Brown dropped his boxers to the floor and stepped
into the shower, squeezing in between
the boy and the wall. Even now, with his solid
erection only inches from the boys' waist, he was
reluctant to cross that final, ultimate line and touch
him. He knew he wanted the boy, knew that
the boy wanted him; but he was the adult, the one
supposed to be in charge, the teacher. If he
touched him, all the thoughts and feelings he'd fought
to overcome over the years would count for
nothing. He'd been close before, very close at times,
but had always managed to resist the
temptation. There'd been those looks from boys which
he recognised instantly, that slightly
too-long eye contact, that slightly too long delay in
hiding a burgeoning erection, even a longer
than proper hand on waist or leg. He'd managed to
overcome those temptations with no little
difficulty. But this was different. Billy had made no
effort to hide his intentions, no effort to avoid
being naked with him, no effort to cover his
erections. He was deliberately showing himself off
even. Tom stared at the shampoo bottle, unseeing.

Billy, waiting for his hair to be shampooed, turned
round to see what the delay was. His dick
stood out in front of him, parallel to Mr Brown's and
a couple of inches lower. He stared at it,
entranced. It was about two inches longer than his,
and a bit thicker; he had that fold of loose skin
at the end and mass of curly brown hair at the other.
He thought it was beautiful and irresistible,
and reached over to touch it. He stopped, just a
little bit afraid. Should he be the first to touch?
He wasn't sure. With Kim it'd been easy, they were
both boys and the same age more or less, but
this was a man and therefore in charge.  Or was he? He
wasn't moving, making no attempt to
wash his hair or even touch him. Billy understood the
feelings he must be having and decided to
make the first move.

Stepping forward a few inches he lifted his swollen
cock up in the palm of his hand and touched
the hyper-sensitive end of it to Mr Brown's. He looked
up at his face and smiled gently. Half a
pace more and the two dicks were side-by-side, Billy's
hand closed around them.
Tom Brown sighed, gave up all pretence of thinking
that he would be able to resist temptation and
extricate himself from the situation. He pulled the
boy to him, their cocks now squeezed between
their bodies.

For some minutes they hugged each other, rocking to
and fro under the hot water, two hard
pricks being at the centre of their wet little
universe.

Billy had never been hugged very much, not by his
mother, and certainly not by his father, not by
anyone. He'd always been slightly envious of the boys
who were given a hug at the school gates in
the morning, wondering why his mother didn't do it to
him even when she used to walk him to
junior school. Now he was in the arms of a man he
realised how much he missed it without
knowing: the feeling was one of warmth, safety,
comfort and above all contentment. He liked it
and clung on tightly, resting his head on the
teacher's chest.
Tom felt Billy relax into his arms and clasped his
hand together in the small of his back, resting
them on top of his perfect butt.

After a couple of minutes enjoying the closeness and
comfort together, Tom tilted Billy's head up
and looked at him.

"You alright, Billy?"

Billy nodded and stared back at his teacher with wide,
doe-like eyes. He was more than alright; he
was blissfully fulfilled.

Tom slid a hand between them and felt for Billy's
dick, and having found it, folded his fingers
round it. It'd been a long time since he'd held a
boy's erection, a very long time, and he spent a
couple of minutes enjoying the novelty and
sensuousness of it. His own cock twitched in
sympathy, reminding Billy that it was there. Slowly
Billy took it and gripped it tightly, causing
Tom to jump.

"Not so tight!" Tom said quietly.

"Sorry, Sir!" Billy replied letting the pressure off a
bit.
"I think under the circumstances, you can call me Tom
when we're alone," the teacher said.
"OK, Sir, ... Tom." For some reason Billy didn't feel
all that comfortable with this, he'd never even
know the first name of most of his teachers, let alone
be allowed to call them by it.
Tom found the hot water spray distracting and turned
the shower off before beginning to
masturbate Billy slowly, making sure his finger and
thumb stimulated his cockhead each time he
touched it. Billy moaned with delight and worked his
own hand along Tom's enormous (to him)
dick, watching as the foreskin slipped back and forth
over the end of his dick.
"Do you want to come?" Tom asked, whispering in
Billy's ear.
"Yeah, oh yeah!" Billy managed to stammer out as his
body quivered with the astonishing
sensations arising from his dick.

Tom turned Billy round so his back was to him, lay his
cock up Billy's back and started to wank
him seriously.

Billy was a bit sad to have to let go of his teacher's
hard cock, but soon forgot about it as the man
got to work. Tom hadn't forgotten how to give a boy a
good time. He'd started messing about
with boys long before he went to university, when he
was at school himself in fact, and had
known a good many in his time. Most he'd been with
just once or twice, but there were a few he'd
got to know very well and had had some fantastic times
with them. Once he'd entered college
though, he had made a conscious effort to put this
sort of thing behind him and to all intents and
purposes had become 'normal', if there was such a
thing. He'd lapsed once or twice, usually in the
local public conveniences with a complete stranger
when he couldn't handle the tension, but it was
nothing more than a quick relief and wasn't in the
slightest bit satisfying. Once he'd started
teaching, he'd managed to satisfy his urges by
watching his boys changing and showering, and
jerking off three or four times a day picturing a
particularly attractive boy as he did so - and there
had been a good many of them.

Billy, though, was the first one he'd touched in a
deliberately sexual way and was still trying to
come to terms with it. But not now, he'd think about
it later. Just now he was looking over the
boy's shoulder as he wanked him off, admiring his
perfect, opalescent-looking adolescent cock
and hairless balls dancing in front of him. He was an
angel; a scruffy one for sure, but nevertheless
a scruffy little cherub sent from heaven. To hell with
his good intentions.
Billy was thinking heavenly thoughts too, although he
wouldn't have put it in quite those terms.
Over the past days he'd had some good wanks and
enjoyed them all, but this was by far the best.
It was the first time he'd been completely naked in
front of anyone, and really liked the contact of
skin against skin as he was being played with. Not
only that, but he could feel an immense
man-cock rubbing up and down his back as he moved. He
was glad he couldn't see his teacher's
face just now, that would spoil it somehow: for the
present he was totally immersed in the sexual
attention he was being given by him.

Billy felt the tingles starting in his belly and
working their way up to his balls and cock: he knew
what was about to happen and held his breath in
anticipation. His cock stiffened up and begin to
throb: he folded his arms back around the man's waist,
grasped his wrists and pulled himself as
tight as he could into his body. Once, twice, ......
four times he exploded, the globs of cum
shooting across and landing on the white-tiled wall.
Even when he'd shot his last, energy-sapping
wad of cum, his dick remained hard, as if waiting for
just one more spasm. He breathed deeply,
letting his body sag into Tom's arms.

He wanted to kiss the man, hug him tightly, meld his
body into his and stay like this for ever. But
he couldn't. Instead he turned round to look at Tom's
face, his smile and eyes saying everything he
couldn't. Billy kissed the man on his chest and
squeezed him, still hanging on, sure he would
collapse on the floor if he didn't.

Tom hadn't cum, but he didn't mind. The boy was
delirious with delight he sensed as he was being
hugged and kissed on his navel. He was certainly one
very hot little boy, Tom thought, and a
more than willing one at that.

Regretfully, they eventually had to separate: time was
moving on. Stepping out of the shower,
they dried themselves and got dressed, Tom in his PE
teachers sweats and T-shirt, Billy in his
school clothes.

Tom sat at his desk waiting for Billy to finish
dressing, his mind still in the shower, unable to even
think about work let alone do any. He felt the boy's
hands on his shoulder and turned to face him.
Billy was beaming at him.

"See you after school, Sir. Tom," he said with a
twinkle in his eye.
"Yes. OK then. Have a good day," Tom replied, not
quite believing what had just taken place in
his shower.

"Great. By the way, you didn't wash my hair yet!"
Billy giggled as he unlocked the door and
scampered out.

Unlike Billy, Tom didn't have a very good day - he
couldn't concentrate on anything at all. He
bitterly regretted letting things get out of hand this
morning, and was seriously worried that Billy
would tell someone, deliberately or otherwise. That
would mean the end of his job, the wrecking
of his career and social disgrace at the very least.
At worst, ............... he didn't even want to think
about those possibilities. By mid-afternoon, when he'd
heard nothing from anyone, he decided that
so far Billy hadn't said anything and relaxed a
little. The testing time would come after school
ended for the day, when one of three things would
happen he decided: Billy wouldn't turn up at
all, Billy would turn up with the headmaster in tow,
or Billy would turn up and act as if nothing at
all had happened. Of the three, he preferred the last.
At least then he would know that the boy
was going to keep quiet about it, even if he never did
it again.
The tap came on his office door about ten minutes
after school had closed. He shouted a 'Come
in,' and turned round, a sudden pain gripping him in
the pit of his stomach. It was Billy, and only
Billy. He came in and closed the door behind him.

"All right, sir?" Billy asked, smiling and dropping
his school bag to the floor.
"Mmmmmm? Oh, yes, thank you." Tom said, allowing
himself to breath now, the pain in his
stomach easing slightly.

"Great. Is it all right if I get changed now?"

"Yeah, sure. Your things are where you left them." He
was going to add 'this morning', but
decided this morning was best unmentioned.

Billy stripped, completely, before asking his teacher
if he should lock the door. Tom faced the
tantalisingly naked Billy, wishing he hadn't asked
that particular question. He knew what it meant,
and was unsettled by it. Firstly it meant that Billy
wasn't at all disturbed by the morning's events,
and secondly that he was looking for more of the same.

There was no way could they do anything now, even if
they wanted, Tom realised gladly. There
were still too many people around: cleaners getting
started on their work, teachers clearing up and
the odd boy or two. Much too risky.

But still Billy stood there, pants in one hand, an
erection in front of him and an expectant look on
his face.

Tom knew he was beaten, and knew he'd been seduced by
this perfect-looking boy.
"Put those on, and come in here," Tom said quietly as
he stood up and walked into the store
room.

Sadly, and a little curiously, Billy did what he was
told. He'd been looking forward to some more
sexy fun all day, but now he sensed he wasn't going to
get any. From the sound of Tom's voice, he
wasn't even sure now if they would ever do it again.
Pulling his pants on over his now flaccid
penis, he followed 'his man' into the darkened room.

Tom decided not to turn the lights on; it would be
easier somehow if he said what he had to say in
the gloom. Pulling up a chair, he sat down and waited
for Billy to come in. The boy stood directly
in front of him, closer than any other boy would,
especially ones clad in only their underpants.
Tom took a deep breath, tried to ignore the sight ,
and started.
"Tom, What happened this morning, ........"

He got no further. Billy knew as soon as he started to
speak, what was coming. He'd heard that
tone of voice so many times before: from his mother,
from his father, from his teachers and from
many others. It meant bad news, disappointment and
sadness. But this time, he suddenly decided,
this time for the first time in his life, he was
determined to fight back. And fight back with the only
weapon he had - himself.

He took a step closer to Tom, put his hands on his
shoulders and looked him straight in the eye,
challenging him to carry on and finish what he was
going to say.
Tom stopped, confused by the boy's reaction. He stared
into his eyes and abruptly realised that
what the boy was offering, and needed more than
anything else, was his friendship and attention.
The sex was only a part of it, admittedly the driving
part, but still only a part. The lad's
background flashed through his mind: no father, an
uncaring mother and no family to speak of. He
was lonely, probably afraid, and needed loving. He was
overcome with emotion, feeling
desperately sorry for the boy and at the same time
completely helpless. He pulled Billy to him and
held him gently.

Billy suddenly felt very tired and drained of all
energy, as if some great weight had been lifted off
his shoulders, a weight he didn't even know he
carried. Much to his surprise he felt tears running
down his cheeks: hot, uncontrollable tears. He locked
his arms round the man's neck, gripped him
tightly and let his sobs run free: he hadn't cried for
ages, he couldn't even remember when or why.
Billy didn't know why he was crying now, all he felt
was a sense of release from some sort of
tremendous pressure and the fact that he could cry if
he wanted without embarrassment. He let
himself be seated on Tom's knee and tried to stop
crying.

Tom cuddled the boy, holding his head on his shoulder
and waiting for the sobs to subside. He
was aware that his door was closed, but not locked,
and would have difficulty in explaining why
he had an almost naked boy in tears on his lap. Just
for the moment though he didn't care - he had
a more pressing problem on his lap. Patiently he
waited until Billy pulled himself together.
Eventually Billy sat up, rubbed his eyes with his
fists and stared at Mr Brown, still not
comprehending why he'd let himself down so badly,
crying like a stupid baby.
"Come on, Billy, get dressed and then we'll talk."

The two walked back into the office, Billy leaning on
Tom for support. He helped Billy dress
himself before sitting on his desk chair and putting
him back on his lap. At least if anyone came in
the room now, he would have less to explain.

They both knew that they had to talk, but neither knew
where to start or what to say. Billy twirled
a lock of Tom's hair between his fingers as he
thought. He'd always liked this man and thought at
last he'd found a grown-up who wasn't pissed off with
him all the time and actually cared how he
looked and how clean he was, and everything else. But
now he was going to push him away, just
like all the others had and he didn't know why. The
only thing was the sexy stuff they'd done this
morning, but then the door was locked, the lights were
out and it didn't matter that much anyway.
So why? Slowly he realised that what they'd done could
get the man sacked from his job, and
worse. Billy hadn't been fair to Tom, he hadn't
understood all what he'd done, but now he did.
"Are you going to send me away?" Billy asked, becoming
tearful again.
"No, not if you don't want." Tom replied, grateful the
conversation had started.
"Thanks. And can I still come here and change my
clothes?"
"Yes, of course." Tom hugged the boy in confirmation.

There was one last thing to clear up. Billy shuffled a
bit on the man's lap and steeled himself to ask
the last question.

"And can we, well you know, do what we did this
morning, just sometimes?"
Tom had given this a little thought overt the past few
minutes and decided that if the boy wanted
to mess about a bit, then he couldn't, wouldn't, say
no. There had to be some ground rules though.
"Yes, we can if you really want to, but we shouldn't
ever do it in school, and no one must ever
find out. It'd get us both in very serious trouble."

Billy smiled and felt a lot happier. He even kissed
Tom on the cheek and hugged him, grinning.
"Thanks!" he whispered.

Tom felt his dick hardening, despite what he'd just
said. He too was happy now that they'd sorted
things out between themselves. Billy felt the
hardening cock next to his thigh, and allowed his
own to grow. He slipped his hand down and felt Tom's
erection between his fingers.
"If we can't do it here, where can we do it?" he
whispered, urgently, grasping his own cock
through his trousers as if seeking inspiration.

He hadn't thought as far as that yet. God forbid, half
an hour ago Tom was praying that he'd never
see Billy again.

"Where do you live?" Tom asked. He knew the address,
but couldn't place it.
"On the estate, in that big block of flats."

Tom knew it immediately of course, and felt even
sorrier for the lad, knowing the reputation it
had. He lived on the main road, less than half a mile,
and a world, away.
"I live on the main road, not far from you." Tom
explained, not at all sure that he should have said
even that much.

Billy looked at Tom, the unspoken question hanging in
the air.
"What time have you got to be home?" Tom asked, hating
himself for even thinking what he was.
"Soon, but I'm coming out again afterwards," he said,
now stroking the back of Tom's neck.
Tom debated with himself, knowing precisely what he
was going to say and do next, but
nevertheless pretending he had a choice.

"OK, I live at number 47. Ring the doorbell as soon as
you get there." Then he added, stupidly, on
reflection, "Try not to let anyone see you."

Billy, now serious, said he would do his best.

The two new friends stood up, preparing to go their
separate ways for the time being. Billy picked
up his school bag, made to leave the office and
changed his mind at the last second. Running to
Mr. Brown, he hugged him tightly and left, with a
cheery, "See ya later!"
Tom wished he felt as cheerful. He knew he was taking
a phenomenal risk, but seeing Billy's
happy face as he left made it more than worthwhile

Billy raced home, his feet hardly seeming to touch the
ground, grinning insanely to himself. He'd
forgotten all about Kim, the toilets and even the
other man. There was only one thing on his mind
now and it made him delirious with delight. As he
climbed the stairs to his flat, he saw Kim
waiting for him on the balcony.

"Fuck you, fuck my mother and father, fuck the world!"
he thought to himself. "None of you have
got what I've got." Then he slowed down as he
remembered his promise to keep it a secret - a big
secret. He'd have to talk to his mother and Kim just
as if everything was normal - he wasn't sure if
he could do it, but he'd have a damn good try. He'd
just have to do it.
"Where you been?" Kim asked, "I thought we might go to
the house."
"Sorry I'm late. I got detention," he said, raising a
grim smile. Thankfully Kim didn't ask what for,
he was more interested in other things as his trousers
showed. "Sorry, but I don't feel like going
out tonight," he added, "I've got some homework to
do."

Kim didn't believe him for a second, Billy never did
homework. Feeling somehow slighted, he
turned, gave Billy a glare and went indoors.
'I'll have to watch that one,' Billy thought to
himself, 'He mustn't find out. I 'spose we'll have to
do
things sometimes.' He stored it in his memory and went
indoors to get his tea.

Chapter Nine.

An hour later found Billy walking quickly towards Mr
Brown's house. 'Number 47, number 47',
he kept repeating to himself over and over again,
burning it in his mind. He recognised the house
as soon as he saw it, he'd passed it dozens of times
on his way to town. It was the left-hand house
of a semi-detached pair, no different to any others in
the road until now. The numerals '4' and '7'
on the door stood out like beacons, now forever
marking the house as special.
He waited until a man and woman had walked past the
house and disappeared round the corner
before running down the garden path and pressing the
doorbell.
It was answered a minute or two later by Tom, dressed
casually in sweat pants and shirt.
"Come in, come in," Tom smiled. Up until the sound of
the bell, Tom had more than half-hoped
that Billy's nerve would crack and he wouldn't turn
up. They would go to school tomorrow and
behave as if nothing has ever happened. But as soon as
he heard the door, he was surprisingly
happy, pleased that 'his boy' had had the courage and
motivation to do as he'd said.
Billy walked, slightly nervously, into his teacher's
house, in one glance his eyes taking in the
obvious luxury in which he lived. He was impressed;
the flat he lived in was about the same size
as the ground floor of this house, and there was
another floor upstairs! All this space for one
person! It was clean and tidy as well, infinitely
cleaner than his own place, and smelled of air
freshener and good cooking. He was shown into the
living room and stood, waiting to be told
where to sit, acutely aware of his unkempt appearance.


Tom sat on the enormous sofa in front of the tv and
lay his arm across the back of it, inviting Billy
to join him. Billy took a step or two towards him and
stood, staring down at his grubby jeans, he
didn't want to mark his nice furniture with whatever
had stained them. Tom saw the glance and
said not to worry, it was alright. He sat down in the
centre of the sofa and looked round the room
at the shelves of books, video films, CD's and hifi
stuff. There was a desk, stacked high with
school things, books to be marked, timetables and all
the other stuff teachers needed. He chose
not to look too closely at it. He folded his hands in
his lap and wondered what would happen
next; he was excited and tried not to let it show too
much. Excited at being in such a lovely home,
excited at being alone with Tom, and excited at what
he hoped they would be doing later.
"You feeling better than you did at school?" Tom
asked, "Things a bit better for you?"
"Yeah. - Errr, Yes. It's nice here isn't it?" Even his
speech improved in these surroundings.
"Not bad. Would you like to watch a video?"

It was Tom's honest intention to invite Billy to his
home, and if he turned up explain that they
could stay friends, but they must not do anything like
they'd done again. Being friendly with a
pupil, especially a young boy pupil, was bad enough,
but doing anything sexual was simply not an
option. He'd asked Billy if he wanted to watch a video
to slow things down a bit and give him
time to think how to tell him.

Billy didn't want to watch a video particularly, he
wanted to, well, not to put too fine a point on it,
get on with it, but appreciated the offer and said
yes. Tom selected one more or less at random
and put it on to play, the volume turned well down so
they could talk.
He returned to his seat, put an arm on Billy's should
and pulled him towards him. They sat in the
corner of the sofa, Billy resting comfortably, in
Tom's arm.
"What time have you got to be home?" Tom asked
glancing at the clock.
"Don't - err - doesn't, matter," he said truthfully.
"She probably won't even know I'm out. As long
as I'm home for breakfast!" he giggled.

Tom sighed: he was almost certainly telling the truth
unfortunately.
"Good. You comfortable?"

"Mmmmmm, This's nice," Billy sighed, nestling in
closer to 'his man' as he was already beginning
to think of him.  Billy stared at Tom's groin, looking
for any signs of life to match the one
growing in his jeans. There wasn't. 'How could anyone
be so close and not get a hard on?' he
mused. He always did and assumed everyone else did
too. Billy moved his hand down, adjusted
his boner so it was less painful and wriggled himself
closer.
Tom saw the movement, recognised the cause and felt
his resolve weakening. Things were going
to be difficult. Against his wishes, his dick started
to get bigger as he thought about the boy in his
arm, and the reason, the only reason, he'd appeared
tonight. Billy, noticing the tent building in
Tom's groin, moved a hand tentatively towards it,
looking at Tom for approval.
Tom's good intentions went out the window to be
replace with sheer wanton lust; the lad was too
irresistible, too determined and too available. Billy
wasn't going to be dissuaded easily. He nodded
slightly, and asked Billy to sit up for a moment. Once
free of the seductive bundle he was
cuddling, Tom stood up, closed the curtains and turned
the wall-lights on. Instantly the room was
transformed into a haven of peace, tranquillity - and
seduction. Tom sat down again, spreading his
legs apart slightly to give his now fully erect cock
some room. Billy lay full length on the sofa,
laying on his left side with his head on Tom's thigh.
His right hand he rested on Tom's dick, first
feeling it gently through the thin material, then
running his index finger along its length and round
the head. He watched as it blossomed even more under
his touch, giving the occasional twitch as
he found a particularly sensitive spot, then the
little wet spot appearing. Billy reached down and
unfastened his jeans, pushing the zip down as far as
it would go. That felt enormously better, his
dick now having the room to stretch to its full length
inside his pants. He sighed, perfectly content
and stared unseeing at the tv screen. Once more he was
happy. Without seeking permission, he
worked his hand inside Tom's sweats. Rather to his
surprise, he wasn't wearing any underwear,
and found his red-hot dick waiting for him, already
leaking. They both sighed, Tom spreading his
legs even further apart.

"Can I take my clothes off?" Billy asked in a whisper.

Tom realised that Billy had made almost all the moves
so far, and felt that he aught to do
something to show he was just as keen as he was for
things to progress.
"Yes, if you like. Stand up a minute," Tom said
quietly.

Billy did as he was asked and placed himself in front
of Tom, waiting. Tom looked the boy up and
down, picturing him naked. He gripped Billy's T-shirt
at the waist , slipped it over his head to
reveal a beautiful, taught chest with perfect little
nipples of them, without a vestige of a hair, just
like Tom liked.

Then off came his shoes and socks, immediately
followed by his trousers being slid down slowly,
his thighs and legs being exposed inch by tantalising
inch. Tom felt his dick throb in anticipation.
Billy stepped out of his trousers and moved closer to
Tom, now standing between his thighs. Tom
inserted his thumbs inside the waistband of the
cherub's pants and carefully worked them over the
horizontal boner pointing directly at his navel,
which, to his surprise, was dripping pre-cum
slightly. He stared at Billy's groin as he took his
pants right off and left them on the floor. The lad
wasn't in the slightest embarrassed at being stood,
naked, with an adorable hard on; in fact he
looked rather pleased with himself if anything. Not
for the first time, Tom wondered who was
seducing whom, not that it mattered in the slightest.
He longed to take that exquisite dick and
bury it deep in his mouth, but wasn't sure if Billy
was ready for that yet, or whether he even knew
about such things. Instead he took it in his hand and
felt its warmth and hardness, which was even
now throbbing softly under his fingers, just waiting
to be used.
Billy sighed and rested his hands on Tom's shoulders.
"That's really nice," he whispered, "Really,
really nice."

Experimentally, Tom pulled the erection towards him,
and to his delight, not to say astonishment,
Billy followed through, standing on his toes slightly
to push it in the direction of Tom's waiting
mouth. Billy moved closer, as close as he could, as
Tom bent his head forwards.
Lips and dick met; a sharp electric shock ripping
through them both as they touched for the first
time.  Billy gasped in awe as his dick disappeared
into that wonderful, moist cavern of a mouth,
Tom's tongue bathing it as he slowly eased it to the
top of his throat. He felt that ecstatic tingle as
his cockhead reached the back, gasping both with
passion and as yet unfulfilled lust. Unable to
help himself, Billy let out a long "Aaaaaaaahh!" as he
desperately held on to the back of Tom's
head.

Without once letting go, Tom slid down to the floor,
taking Billy with him. In something near a
frenzy, Billy managed to turn himself round and almost
ripped Tom's sweats off in a passionate
urgency to reach his dick. And there they were, both
naked now, laying on the soft, smooth
carpet, completely lost in each other, endeavouring
both to give and take as much euphoric
delight as they could. Without a moments hesitation,
Billy wrapped his lips round Tom's proffered
cock, swallowing his pre-cum hungrily. It was if he'd
been doing this all his life; his tongue
slurping round the end of Tom's cock, anxiously trying
to taste every bit of it. Automatically he
sucked harder, allowing more and more of his shaft to
fill his mouth until he felt it was as far in as
he could get it, even managing to stifle the retching
reaction. His hands were massaging Tom's
balls, delicate fingers running feather-light all over
and around them.
Tom groaned: it'd been far too long since he'd felt
like this, so long that he'd forgotten just how
fantastic it was. Urgently he sucked and masturbated
the young cock filling his existence,
desperately wanting his seed to spill into his body,
desperately wanting it to go on for ever. His
own cock was throbbing with a passion and desire far
beyond his control as the juvenile mouth
and hands carried him into realms he'd never realised
existed, not on this earth at least.
Billy began to thrust himself in and out of Tom with
an animal lust. He didn't give a toss who
heard his screams of pain and pleasure, or what they
would think, just so long as they didn't
interfere with this incredible mind-blowing sensation.
The more he felt Tom sucking and feeling
him, the more he returned the favour, feeling Tom's
cock sliding down his throat, marvelling at
how awesome it was.

They erupted simultaneously, Billy expecting it and
forcing his rampant dick just that little bit
more into Tom as he ejaculated furiously, his spunk
jetting out in a continuous stream of pure
elation. He couldn't even speak, his mouth wide open
and his eyes glazed, he shuddered and
trembled as he gave the last few drops of his essence
to his man. Tom was taken completely by
surprise, not only by the rapidity with which Billy
had orgasmed, but also his own: he didn't think
he was anywhere near cumming.  Caught unawares by the
unexpected tightening of his balls and
the insistent throbbing of his cock, he fired his
volley into Billy, more than making up for the
dumb-struck Billy with his shout of pure carnal
pleasure. Times without number he jerked and
jumped as he emptied every last drop his body
possessed into his seducer.
They lay together on the floor, unmoving for minutes,
collecting their thoughts and breath. Billy
turned round and faced Tom, his arm resting on his
waist.

"That was good," he whispered. "Better than this
morning."
Tom nodded, still in a state of shock with the speed
at which things had happened. The boy was
amazing: not a shadow of guilt, not a shred of
remorse, just pure joy and serenity showing in his
face.

Tom felt a cold draught on the floor, making him
shiver. He glanced at Billy, whose eyes were
closed, a faint smile on his lips, and his dick hard
again! He stroked his cheeks and Billy opened
his eyes.

"Come on, let's get up," Tom said. "It's uncomfortable
down here."
They lay on the sofa together, stretched out full
length, Billy's legs entwined with Tom's, their
cocks nestled together between them.

Billy lifted his head up, crawled along Tom's body
until his face was level with Tom's and kissed
him on both cheeks softly. Then he lost it completely,
gripping the man's head between his hands,
he planted his lips firmly on Tom's and kissed him
again, passionately and painfully, his tongue
forcing his way into Tom's mouth, urgently seeking out
its companion. Tom had no time to react
consciously, he automatically wrapped his arms round
Billy and hugged him closely, his tongue
now dancing with Billy's. For timeless minutes they
enjoyed each other, Tom regaining his
erection to join Billy's boner rubbing along his
navel. His hands wandered all over Billy, fingers
playing lightly down his spine, round his waist and
over his butt, relishing his silky-smooth,
delicate skin. He felt Billy shudder and shake, his
hips thrusting into him and a spreading warm
wetness oozing between them. Billy showed no sign of
even knowing he'd come again, his kisses
continuing unabated.

"You come again?" Tom whispered in the boy's ear.

"Mmmmmm, Yeah, I think so," he mumbled into Tom's
mouth.

An hour later, they were still there, somewhat calmer
now, but still embracing nakedly on the
sofa, watching the end of a long-forgotten film.

"I think you'd better make a move home," Tom reminded
Billy. "It's getting late."
Billy sighed and kissed Tom once more, reluctantly
realising he was right.
They both dressed and looked at each other, smiling.

"Can I come again?" Billy asked.

Ignoring the obvious answer, Tom replied that he
could, but not for a day or two, just in case he
was seen coming and going to his house too often. Then
an idea crossed his mind. If Billy left
through the garden, and went through the back gate, he
could come and go unseen by anyone as
his garden backed on to a little used footpath. He
explained the route to Billy, who grinned
happily, and with a quick peck on his cheek, left Tom
alone in his lovely house.
Billy went home on a cloud, smiling and humming to
himself as he jogged along the road. Life
was OK. Even when he got indoors to find his mother
semi-conscious on the sofa, he didn't mind.
He simply went to bed and slept soundly, dreaming of
his man, waking up twice to relieve the
pressure on his boner.
______________________________________________________________________________
Chapter Ten.

Tom meanwhile had showered and was himself in bed,
thinking of Billy. Giving up any idea of
putting an end to their relationship, he was trying to
think of ways of making it as safe and
secretive as possible.

The first and immediate thing he could do was to more
or less legitimise the regular visits to his
house he was going to make. It wasn't unknown for
staff at the school to teach one or two pupils
privately, either because they were unusually clever,
or needed extra coaching in weak subjects.
All he had to do was get his mother's written
agreement, and inform the school using the
appropriate form. This would mean either Tom visiting
Billy's home, which he was reluctant to
do, or getting her into school, which may be a
problem. He would also make sure he was not
around when Billy was changing his uniform in his
office, preferably being in the staffroom with
other teachers.

Once he'd more or less sorted this little problem out,
he turned over, had a slow, ecstatic wank
thinking of Billy, and went to sleep.

The following morning, he waited for Billy to arrive,
almost as excited as Billy would be. When
he arrived, the lad bounced into Tom's office, slammed
the door shut and embraced Tom. With a
little difficulty, he unravelled himself from the
exuberant boy and grinned at him.
"Get undressed and have your shower, idiot!" Tom said,
still smiling. "I want to talk to you."
Billy could tell by the tone of voice that he wasn't
in any trouble, so he grinned broadly and
stripped off, his prick already erect. Remembering
just in time to lock the door, he stood in front
of Tom and pecked him on the cheek.

Whilst he was under the shower, Tom explained his idea
to Billy, who thought it was a brilliant
one, the only bad part of it being that they couldn't
have any fun in the mornings. 'Well,' Billy
thought, 'at least that's what he says, but we'll see
about that'.
Once he was dried and dressed in his school clothes,
without having any fun, Billy wandered
across to where Tom was sat at his desk, pretending to
be marking exercise books - there was no
way he could concentrate with this boy in the same
room as him.  Insinuating himself onto his lap,
Billy perched himself on Tom's knee and watched as he
worked. Tom found it even more
distracting, but struggled on, pleased that the boy
seemed happy to accept the 'no sex at school'
rule. When the time came for him to leave, Billy
satisfied himself with a quick, chaste kiss on his
cheek and scurried off.

Tom taught Billy for two subjects in school, PE and
History. He was apprehensive when he saw
Billy sat in his usual place in his History class and
studiously avoided meeting his gaze. There was
no problem at all though, Billy behaving just as
normal. There was no problem in PE either, which
was certainly the most difficult time. The only
slightly nerve-wracking moment came when Tom
was looking at the boys taking their showers. Billy
caught his eye, stuck his tongue out very
slightly and shook his head as if saying, 'I know what
you're doing and you'd better stop it!'. They
half-smiled at each other knowingly, and Tom retreated
to his office. How Billy managed to keep
his erection down he didn't know, he couldn't.

Even getting changed to go home, Billy managed to keep
his lust under control, but only with
difficulty.
It'd been a long time since he'd touched Tom and he
felt the need, if only to make sure he was still
real and still his friend. After he'd changed he
sidled up to him and put a tentative arm round his
waist and hugged him. Tom smiled at him and left his
arms there, only moving away when Billy
took his hand and tried to put it onto the boner
tenting his trousers out. Whispering a 'no' to him,
he suggested that he went to the school office and ask
for a form for his mother to sign about his
extra lessons. And not to forget to bring it, and his
mother, to school tomorrow.
This was a problem, a big problem, Billy thought as he
walked home. His mother hadn't ever been
to the school, not even on his first day, and he just
knew that there was no way she would come
just to talk about his extra lessons. He was still
pondering over this difficulty when he saw Kim
waiting for him on the balcony.

This was just what he needed to take his mind off
things, Billy ruminated; it'd been over 12 hours
since he'd last cum and he suddenly felt like doing
it. He'd've preferred doing it with Tom, but as
he wasn't around, Kim was the next best thing.

"Wotcha!" he said as he ran up the last few steps two
at a time.
"Hello," said Kim, off-handedly.

Billy was confused. Yesterday Kim was more than keen
to go to the house, but today something
was different.

What's up?" Billy asked.

"Nothing." Kim replied, staring at his shoes.

"Ok," Billy replied, not believing him for an instant.
"Wanna come and play?"
There was an instant flash of hope in Kim's eyes.
After his rebuttal yesterday, he thought that Billy
didn't want to do 'it' again, but now he thought he
might, just might, want to do it.
"Yes, OK then. Where shall we go?"

"To the house, of course. Unless you don't want to."

"No, that's good," Kim answered, feeling better.

Billy threw his school bag through the door, informed
his mother that he was going out to play
for a bit, and re-joined Kim.

The chatted idly on the way to the house, both boys
getting boners on the way, thinking of things
to come. Yet again, to the casual observer the house
showed no signs that anyone had been
beyond the ground floor - it seemed that whoever else
used the house, they weren't interested in
anywhere else.

But Billy noticed that there were a few more empty
Coke tins and cigarette packets scattered
around than there were before, and more dangerously,
signs of fairly recent cannabis smoking.
Although Billy had never tried the stuff, he was
street-wise enough to recognise the remains. He
decided that he'd stop coming here after today, it was
becoming too risky.
Kim was already sat on the blanket and had found the
magazine. He was turning the pages over as
Billy joined him, sitting next to him looking at the
pictures. It wasn't long before they were both
fingering their boners through their trousers,
grinning at each other slyly. Billy was looking at the
huge dicks and mentally comparing them with the two
other adult ones he'd seen recently. They
were both quite a bit smaller than the ones in the
photographs admittedly, but were somehow
nicer. He didn't see how on earth he could suck on the
ones in his book, they were much too big;
they must have been specially picked because of their
size he assumed. They didn't make him feel
the same as before either, these were just pictures.
He needed to hold real ones, Tom's out of
choice, but Kim's or even his own were better.
Thinking of Kim, he glanced at him to see that he
already had his flies undone and his lovely brown dick
standing out solidly erect and proud. Billy
put his fingers round and stroked it, sliding his own
zip down at the same time.
Kim dropped the magazine to the floor and lay down.
"Want to take 'em off?" he whispered
looking at Billy's jeans.

"Yeah, OK. You taking yours down?"

For reply, Kim undid his belt and pushed his trousers
and pants down to his ankles, and shucked
them off altogether. Billy, surprised at his eagerness
and sudden change in attitude from the other
evening, did the same. They lay as close together as
they could, all but on top of each other, Kim's
legs over Billy's.  Their cocks mashed together
between them, rubbing alongside each other as
Kim slowly rocked his body up and down, masturbating
himself with Billy's dick.
Kim leaned his head towards Billy, their lips getting
closer and closer. Billy knew what was
coming next and smiled. Kim, taking this as approval
kissed Billy, his lips remaining closed, not
knowing any better. Billy liked it and wanted more, he
worked his T-shirt up to his neck,
exposing his chest as much as he could; reaching up,
he undid the buttons on Kim's shirt and put
his arms under the thin material, pulling Kim back
down onto his chest.
They kissed again, Billy opening his lips a little and
putting his tongue out. There was no response
from Kim and so he gave up, concentrating on making
Kim feel as good as he could without the
added pleasure. The lads twisted and turned together
enjoying the novel sensation, to Kim
anyway, of their naked flesh in close, erotic contact,
legs, arms and torsos writhing like two
snakes, every second of sensual contact being
savoured. It was too much for Kim; in a desperate
craving for release from the incredible arousal he'd
built up, he grabbed Billy's hand, thrust it onto
his leaking dick and seized Billy's engorged boner,
masturbating it with a fierce urgency.
Billy managed to slow him down a little, but the fever
was infectious and he was frantically
working on Kim. For five all too-brief minutes they
enjoyed each other's bodies, their need for
sexual contact and stimulation as desperate as only
adolescent teenage boys in rut can be. They
both climaxed together, their joint orgasms being
celebrated by unified moans and groans of
mutual gratification, their sperm mixing on Billy's
stomach, quickly spread all over his front with
Kim's impassioned writhing. For once Billy's dick
softened instantly; it was tender and felt red-raw
after the vicious working over it'd just received from
the grinning and apparently as yet unfulfilled
Kim. His dick was still hard; for an instant Billy
thought of taking it in his mouth and sucking him
dry, but knew he wouldn't like that so enjoyed himself
wanking it again, fairly quickly, to another
climax, just as delightfully intense, but nowhere near
as much cum. This time Kim was well and
truly exhausted, laying back with his arms outspread
and breathing deeply. Billy looked at his
near-naked body and thought how good-looking he was,
spread-eagled as he was and kissed him
on the lips, managing this time to work his tongue in
as far as his teeth before Kim stopped him.
Ten minutes later, they were walking home, Kim as
happy as could be, almost skipping along with
delight. Billy, only slightly less excited, was
trotting alongside him, his mind already on other
things.

They parted at Billy's front door with a wave and a
joint, "See you later!"
After tea, Billy sat in the living room watching tv
and thinking. The sex with Kim this afternoon
had been good, but not really satisfying he thought.
He'd enjoyed it, not nearly as much as Kim
obviously had, but it'd been fun though for both of
them and he was sure they'd do it again. There
was something missing though, he couldn't quite put
his finger on it, but no doubt it would come
to him in time.

The other thing on his mind was Tom. He wanted
desperately to see him, be with him and have
sex with him, but knew he couldn't - he'd been told
not to. Tomorrow morning was the best he
could manage: it would have to do.

Then there was the extra tuition form. He pulled it
from his back pocket, now looking a bit tatty
and dog-eared. He had to get Tom and his mother
together, but how? And when? And where? It
had to be as soon as possible obviously. He didn't
want his mother to be seen at school in the state
she was normally in, and he certainly didn't want Tom
to see how he lived.
His mother seemed alert enough to talk to and during a
commercial break in the tv programme, he
took a deep breath and broached the subject nervously.

"Mum?" he started, waiting to see how she reacted.

"Yeah?" she replied, eyes still glued to the set.

"I've been told I need to take some extra lessons from
school, and Mr Brown has said he'd teach
me."

"What the fuck for?" she said, without malice.

"I won't pass my exams without 'em, and I need to."

"OK then, if that's what you want, then fuckin' do it.
I don't care."
That was the easy bit. The hard bit came next.

"But you've got to go to school to have a talk and
sign a form."
"I ain't goin' to no bleedin' school, for you or
anyone else."
Billy sighed. He knew he'd lost the argument; there
was no way he'd ask Tom to come here.
Apart from his seeing him home, she'd throw a fit if
anyone from school came here and probably
give Billy a good hiding into the bargain.

"Please, mum, I really want to do them."

Her reply consisted of a series of short, sharp
expletives, ending with a 'get yourself outta my
fuckin' sight, now!'

He knew better than to argue, and took himself off to
his room. Stretched out on his bed, he was
as close to crying as ever he allowed himself to get.
He pummelled his pillow in sheer frustration,
angry and upset, feeling helpless. It was early yet,
far to early for bed; he decided to go out for a
walk to cool down.

Going back to the living room, he simply said, "I'm
going out for a walk, I won't be long," and left
before she had time to answer.

He wandered round the streets for an hour or so,
finding himself eventually across the road from
Tom's house. He leaned against a garden wall, staring
at the living room window where a thin line
of light round the curtains showed Tom was probably
relaxing and listening to music or
something. There was nothing in the world he wanted
more than to cross the road and ring the
front door bell. But he knew that would probably ruin
everything, for ever. Tom would be angry
with him for breaking his promise, send him away and
never talk to him again. Billy, once again
on the edge of tears wandered off aimlessly in the
direction of the town centre.
He arrived back at his house an hour later, one
solitary idea having come to him. His mother was
still where he'd left her, and apart from the opened
bottle of scotch by her side, nothing had
changed. She looked at him bleary-eyed.

"You OK son?" she said drunkenly, the earlier
discussion obviously forgotten about already.
"Yeah, 'spose so." he mumbled and sat down on the
hard-backed dining chair more than a little
pissed off.

"Can I have a bath?" he asked, knowing full well what
the answer would be, hoping that for once
she might take enough interest in him to feel just a
little bit guilty.
"What d'you want a fuckin' bath for? You ain't goin'
anywhere. 'Sides the water ain't turned on."
Despite knowing the reply before he even asked the
question, and getting the answer he expected,
he was suddenly very, very angry with his mother, with
his home, with his life, with every fucking
thing. Even Kim had pissed him off today, and it
wasn't Kim's fault.
Billy grasped the rail of the chair so tightly his
knuckles went white, a red mist descended and he
stood up, still holding on to the chair. He stared
round the room, eyes flared, wanting to lash out
at something, anything. Slowly, he calmed himself
down, released his grip on the chair and sat
down again, his mind suddenly crystal clear. He was
getting out of this place just as soon as he
possibly could. It might take a year, it might take
ten, but leave this place he would, and never
come back. A feeling of cold resolve such as he'd
never felt before filled his mind. He had never
been so determined about anything in his life, it was
as if a new light had dawned. He'd seen how
other people lived, people like Kim, like Tom, like a
good many others he knew, and he realised
for the first time just where on the ladder his
so-called family were.
Strangely, he felt better. Now he had a target to aim
for, a goal to attain, and all he had to do was
reach up for it.

Taking the crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, he
carefully spread it out on the table and
read it. Looking coldly at the back of his mother's
head, he forged her signature. This was his first
step to freedom, and he didn't feel guilty in the
slightest. Carefully re-folding it, he placed it
inside
his History book ready for the morning.


Chapter Eleven.

Billy tapped on the office door and went in without
waiting for an answer. Tom knew just who it
was by the footsteps and turned to greet him. He
didn't like to admit it, but he'd missed not seeing
him yesterday evening. It was made worse by the fact
that he could have done too, all he had to
do was ask him. But there was something odd about his
manner, something new. Tom knew
enough about boys to know that he had something on his
mind.
"Oh, no!" he thought, "Please not that. Please!" He
waited for Billy to tell him he didn't want to
see him again.

Billy handed the crumpled form over to his teacher and
sat down on the spare chair. Tom read it,
saw it'd been signed and looked at Billy expectantly.
He was overjoyed not to hear the news he
expected, but didn't dare show it.

"My mother, ...." Billy started, "My mother's too ill
to come to school. And she says you mustn't
come to the house. So she signed the form and said
it's OK." Billy, the accomplished liar suddenly
felt physically sick at having to lie to a man he was
beginning to care a lot about.
Tom knew he was lying, and knew why. She'd probably
refused point blank even to discuss the
matter, and had maybe even hit him for just mentioning
it. Billy looked at Tom, his face a mixture
of defiance and sadness. Everything depended on the
next thirty seconds.
"OK," Tom said, "I'll fill in the rest of the form and
give it to the office. You can come round
tonight if you want and we'll work out your
timetable."

Billy could have shouted for joy, it'd worked! Not
giving a toss about the door still being open, he
hugged Tom and kissed him on the neck, his face now
glowing with delight. Life was infinitely
better already.

Tom was as happy as Billy, and showed it as much as he
dare by closing, but not locking, the
door. He was still determined to keep his 'no sex in
school' rule.
"Going to shower and change then young man?" Tom said,
returning to his desk and getting on
with some reading.

"OK," Billy said, his voice bright and chirpy.

Two minutes later, Tom heard Billy ask, "Gonna do my
hair, sir?"
He swung round and looked at the boy, stood not two
feet away, not a stitch of clothing on him
and sporting a huge erection.

"Jesus, Billy, the door's not even locked!"

"Sorry!" Billy said, not really giving a damn, and
certainly not making a move to lock it. He was
too proud, too fond of his man to give a toss.

Tom did it for him, turning the lights off at the same
time.
"Billy. Oh, Billy," Tom said as he hugged the lad
gently. "You really must try and be more
careful."

Billy felt duly chastened and apologised sincerely.
"Sorry, but I was so pleased you're gonna help
me."

Tom turned the shower on and helped Billy step over
the tray before handing him the soap and
shampoo. He watched for a few seconds as he soaped
himself and washed his feet and legs. Going
back to his desk, he'd just say down when he heard,
"Hair?" from behind him.
Sighing, he again stood up and walked over to Billy,
still with that bloody erection. Gritting his
teeth, he asked Billy to turn the water off for a
minute, explaining that he didn't want to get his
clothes wet. Billy showed no disappointment at the
news that Tom wasn't going to shower with
him, he'd half expected it anyway. At least he was
going to touch him, to hold him and to wash his
hair. That's all he wanted, for the time being anyway.

Tom rubbed the shampoo in and worked up a good lather,
enjoying tending to the youngster. He
stroked his cheeks and rubbed his neck, watching the
suds run down his front, dividing either side
of his horizontal cock and running down his legs. The
boy was gorgeous, and his for the taking.
Shaking his head, he took a step back and told him to
rinse off.
Stepping out of the shower, Billy waited for Tom to
dry his hair, which he did from the back,
knowing what would happen if he faced him.

"That's nice," Billy said, his voice muffled by the
towel. "I like it when you dry my hair."
Tom draped the towel over Billy's shoulder and ruffled
his hair. "There you go, it's dry now."
Before he could step away, Billy grabbed Tom's hand
and placed it in his dick. Leaning back onto
Tom, he whispered hoarsely, "Please? Just for two
minutes?"
Tom, stepping forward pressed his erection into
Billy's butt and started to jerk Billy off, gently but
hurriedly.

It didn't take long, Billy was well aroused, the news
about the extra lessons at Tom's house having
done its work. Four, five strokes was all it took
before Billy shot a magnificent load right across
the room, the first wad landing on Tom's desk, the
remainder drawing a dotted line across the
floor. Tom jerked convulsively as he ejaculated inside
his boxers, pressing his cock between Billy's
cheeks. Billy sighed ecstatically, turned round,
reached up and kissed Tom quickly on the lips.
"Thanks, Sir!, err, Tom!" he giggled and reached for
his new, clean pants.
Tom stared down. Two splodges of cum were glistening
on his trousers where Billy's softening
dick had caught them when he turned round, there were
two butt-shaped damp patches either side
of his cock where Billy's still damp butt had rested,
and there was a massive wetness spreading
from his groin and running down his leg. Billy wasn't
the only one who needed a shower.
 Later in the day, Tom caught Billy up in the corridor
and handed him an envelope .
"Give this to your mother," he said in his official,
school-teacher voice. "It's confirming her
request for your extra lessons." Then he added, with
heavy emphasis, "There's no need for a
reply."

Billy fully understood what he meant, he would give
her the note when she was pissed and then
put it with the rest of her papers where he could find
it if ever she denied seeing it.
After he'd had his tea, just as soon as he could,
Billy shot round to Tom's house and pressed the
bell.  Tom answered the door smiled at the young man
stood there, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"Yes? May I help you?" Tom said, holding the door so
Billy couldn't get in.
Billy stood there for a moment, his smile frozen into
a grimace, wondering what was happening
before he saw the slight smile playing on Tom's face.

"I've come for my lesson, Sir," he said formally.

"In that case you'd better come in."

They went into the dining room, and sat at the big
table in the middle of the room. Billy had never
seen this room before and wasn't surprised to see it
was just as nice as the living room, although
obviously not used as much as a thin layer of dust
showed.
"Before we start, I think we need to get a few things
straight," Tom said.
Billy was a bit disturbed by Tom's manner, but
nevertheless sat down and looked at him
expectantly.  At least he was in his house, and with
him which was better than nothing, a whole
lot better than nothing.

Tom went on to explain that he was glad they'd
arranged these 'extra lessons' and was more than
pleased Billy had turned up. But, he went on, Billy
must at least bring some books with him just in
case anyone wondered why he was coming to his house
for lessons without any materials! They
also devised a sort of timetable, with Billy having
lessons three times a week, for about an hour
each: this would be attached to the form they'd put
into the office to make it all official. Billy was
also given Tom's home 'phone number 'for emergencies'.
Having got the ground rules straight,
Tom felt happier.

In fact, he'd been talking to one or two of his
colleagues about Billy and had had his suspicions
confirmed. The general opinion was that Billy was a
bright lad who was under-achieving badly.
"That's understandable bearing in mind his background
and consequent lack of motivation," his
Form Teacher had commented.
If only you knew just how motivated the lad can be,
Tom thought wryly.
Tom offered Billy a drink and something to eat as they
moved to the more relaxed atmosphere of
the living room. Once this had been arranged, they sat
on the sofa and relaxed, seated at each end
and chatting whilst they ate. Billy was feeling at
home already, more at ease than he was in his
own home as a rule. He looked at Tom dotingly, like a
puppy at its master.
"What?" Tom said, noticing his look.

"Nothing!" Billy said, "It's just that it's nice being
here."
Tom opened his arms and invited the boy to join him,
smiling gently. "Come here, dopey!" he said
tenderly. Billy grinned a wide, happy, grin and
scooted along the sofa to join 'his man'. They
cuddled up together, Tom stroking Billy's hair and
neck as they made themselves comfortable.
Billy turned his head round, hugged Tom and kissed him
firmly on his cheek.
"What was that for?" Tom enquired.

"Because," Billy replied.

"Because?"

"Because I wanted to," he giggled.

Once again Billy felt a tingly feeling as he nestled
into Tom's side, his dick starting to erect.
Kicking his shoes off, he curled up and rested his
head in Tom's lap, closing his eyes and
savouring the masculine aroma of his mans' wonderful
body.
Tom flicked on the tv to catch the news, not that he
wanted to hear it particularly, it was just that
it would provide a bit of background as they lay
quietly together. Aware of the sudden noise, he
opened his eyes, blinked at the tv and turned over,
burying his face in Tom's groin.
It wasn't long before Tom's cock hardened, a fact
sensed by Billy who smiled to himself
knowingly. He slid a hand down to his trousers and
unfastened them, sliding the zip down at the
same time. Wriggling about, he freed his boner and
turned back to Tom's crotch and began to rub
his nose up and down the shaft of his cock.

"Can I get it out?" he whispered.

Tom lifted himself up slightly and pushed his trousers
and pants down to his knees, allowing Billy
free access to his rampant and leaking dick. He sighed
happily as Billy held it in his fingers and
stared at it lovingly. He was even happier when Billy
commenced to lick it, slowly and sensuously,
from base to head, covering it in a shining layer of
saliva. This was some boy, he mused, some
awesome, lovely boy. He slid his hand into Billy's
pants and cradled his beautiful dick and balls in
his hand, rubbing his thumb around his cockhead.

For fifteen minutes they caressed and fondled each
other affectionately before Billy said quietly,
"Can we get undressed properly?"

Tom smiled down at the young satyr and nodded. Billy
bounced up from the sofa gleefully and in
no seconds flat was naked, his astonishingly handsome
body hopping from foot to foot impatiently
as Tom stripped.

"Draw the curtains," Tom whispered as he dropped his
trousers.
Billy stood there for a moment without moving until
Tom looked at him, wondering why he
hadn't moved.

"It's not very comfortable down here on the floor," he
said, the implication being obvious.
Tom had decided not to let Billy see his, or any, of
the bedrooms upstairs. He'd heard stories of
boys, and girls, who'd been questioned by the
authorities about alleged abuse, and one of the
things they asked was what the bedroom looked like. If
they could describe it, that was the end of
the matter. He thought for a second before looking
Billy in the eye, making his mind up.
"Let's go upstairs then," he said, knowing he was
committing the last, final act.
None of these thoughts crossed Billy's mind however;
all he wanted was his man in bed. To him it
was a sort of bridge, and once crossed, their
friendship would be proved beyond doubt: they
would be 'together'. He knew about so-called 'dirty
old men' who preyed on young boys in public
toilets and swimming pools and so on, they'd been
warned about them at school. He always got a
hard-on when they were discussed and was even slightly
envious of those boys who'd been lucky
enough to be picked up, it'd never happened to him
except that man in the toilets, and that was his
different. And what he was going to do, and what he
had done, with Tom was different. It wasn't
'pervy' or 'dirty', it was good and made them both
feel happy. He knew however that most people
wouldn't see it that way and if anyone ever found out
about it, they would never be able to do it
again and would be in very serious trouble. He was
determined that no one, but no one, would
ever find out about him and 'his man'. He was as
determined about this as he was about leaving
home.

Tom folded the bedcover back and got in, closely
followed by a rampant Billy, who immediately
wormed his way to Tom and cuddled him desperately. He
pushed Tom onto his back and lay half
on top of him, one leg stretched his and their faces
inches apart. He leaned down and kissed him
passionately all over his face, settling eventually on
his mouth, his tongue searching for Tom's
frantically, his hands rubbing his chest. Tom was
taken completely by surprise, not only by the
speed with which Billy pounced on him, but the
ferocity of his attack. He hugged Billy even
tighter to him and returned the kisses, rolling over
onto his side as he did so.
He pushed Billy's head away from him slightly and
stared into his eyes, his beautiful, sparkling
eyes. He was going to say something, anything, to slow
him down, but couldn't. Tom pulled him
back down again and kissed him again, just as
passionately.
Their initial lust assuaged a little, Billy lay back
and put his arm under Tom's neck, holding him
tightly whilst he fought to keep breathing, conscious
his heart was racing fit to burst. He wanted
to tell Tom how wonderful, how perfectly overjoyed he
felt, but just couldn't find the words.
Instead he kissed Tom on the cheek and went in search
of his cock.
Just about over his shock, Tom took Billy's leaking
dick in his hand and started to masturbate him
sensitively and delicately.

"Not too fast," Billy said softly, "I want this to go
on for ever."
Tom knew exactly how he felt: he too wanted it to go
on and on for as long as humanly possible.
Billy was fondling Tom's superb cock, and running his
fingers over it when he noticed that clear
watery stuff leaking out. Idly he scooped it up on his
finger, and to Tom's utter astonishment,
licked his finger clean. Billy, hardly aware of what
he'd done swallowed it and went in search for
more.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Tom asked
incredulously.

Billy blushed, realising what he'd done. "Oh, err, I,
err, saw it the other day and wondered what it
tasted like. It don't - doesn't taste bad. It's not
wrong is it?"
"No, not at all," Tom smiled, "I was just surprised to
see you do it, that's all." This boy was a bit
more experienced than he'd given him credit for, he
mused.
"What's it called?" Billy asked, looking up at Tom.

"The proper name is pre-seminal fluid, but most people
just call it pre-cum," he said. "It's a sort of
oily stuff that lubricates your dick when you have
intercourse." He let the boy assume he meant
man/woman sex only, choosing not to enlarge on that
particular topic.
"I see," Billy replied, storing another piece of vital
information in his brain. "And the white stuff
that comes out afterwards is called spunk, right?"

Tom grinned and said, "Yes. That's right. The proper
word is semen or seminal fluid."
Billy suddenly realised that he could learn a great
many things from Tom, apart from History and
how to speak and behave properly. He was the only
adult he could talk to about these things
without being told off for being dirty, and loved him
all the more for it. Whilst in the mood he
followed his train of thought through.

"And when you put your dick into someone's mouth, it's
called a BJ, a blow job, even when all
you do is suck?"

Tom laughed and hugged the boy tighter, "Yes, but
don't ask me why."
Billy fell silent as he fitted all this new
information together, the jigsaw becoming more
complete.
"Can I ask you something else?" Billy said, his mind
going back to the toilet walls.
"Yes?" Tom said, uncertain where he was going next.

"Do some people put their, err, dicks up other
people's bums?", he went on, hoping he wasn't
asking a stupid question.

Tom, half-expecting this, took a deep breath before
answering. He didn't want to travel this road,
but having been asked the question, determined to tell
him at least part of the answer.
"Yeah, some people do. Where on Earth did you learn
that from?"
"Toilet walls down town," he replied, glad he wasn't
that stupid after all.
"I see." Tom answered, not too surprised on
reflection. He may have been surprised by Billy's last
question, but was taken completely aback by the next
one.

"Can I ask you one more thing, and then I'll shut up?"
he giggled, returning his attention to Tom's
now red-hot cock.

"Yeeeees," Tom replied dubiously.

"Have you ever done it?"

"Christ, Billy!" he stammered, "You don't mess about
do you!"
Billy stopped what he was doing and stared up at Tom,
afraid he'd make him angry.
"Sorry," he stuttered, on the edge of tears, "I didn't
mean to piss you ..... err.... make you mad."
Tom, over the shock now, squeezed him gently and
smiled down at him, realising how upset he
was.

"That's OK, you haven't. It's just they way you asked,
that's all. That sort of thing you shouldn't
ask anyone, it's a bit personal!"

"Oh, yeah I suppose it is," he said, relieved the
moment was over. "Forget it then."
They settled down together, Billy grateful that he
hadn't upset Tom too much and resolving to
think before he opened his mouth again and Tom musing
over the few times he'd tried 'having a
dick up his bum' as Billy so succinctly put it.

He'd grown up with Michael Todd, who lived next door
to him. They were the same age and had
done everything together from the time they could walk
almost. As a result they knew each
other's bodies almost as well as their own, each stage
of sexual development being shared and
explored secretly and with great pleasure. Regular
sleep-overs, camping trips and hours spent
hidden away in their tree-house ensured frequent and
mutually enjoyable boy-sex. Tom smiled
inwardly as he thought of their happy times together,
right up until they went their own separate
ways as they went to different universities. It must
have been when he was 14 or so when, after a
particularly satisfying jerk-off session that Michael
had suggested that they could try putting their
dicks up each other. The first few attempts had been
frustratingly good fun, but they didn't really
get anywhere until Tom acquired a bottle of baby oil.
Having used it a couple of times to lubricate their
cocks when wanking, it struck them that it
would make getting their dicks inside their bums a lot
easier. It did, and at least once a week from
then onwards they fucked each other. Even now after
all these years, he remembered vividly their
first time. It was during the long summer holidays and
they'd been out riding their bikes all day
and were recuperating in their tree house, reading
some porno mags they'd got from somewhere
or other when Michael got an attack of cramp in his
thigh. As usual, their shorts had already been
removed so they could play with each other as they
ogled the pictures. Tom had started to
massage the cramp out of Michael's thighs when he
spotted the baby oil and used some to ease
the pain, rubbing it all over his lower back and
thighs. It was when his fingers slipped inside
Michael's butt cheeks the idea struck him, and without
bothering to warn Michael, oiled his dick
and pressed it experimentally against his hole.

Once he'd got over the surprise, Michael suggested he
try properly, the erotic sensation of the
massage having got him well and truly aroused.
Increasing the pressure, Tom found his cock slid
in his buddy easily, and he quickly found himself
buried to the hilt. The new sensation was
fantastic and he slowly started to screw his best
friend. Being the first time, he didn't last long, but
succeeded in achieving the best cum he'd ever had, and
was more than happy to change places
with Michael so he could try it. From that point
onwards, they screwed each other at least once a
week, usually in Michael's bed on their Friday night
sleep-overs. For the best part of a year they
enjoyed themselves enormously, their sex sessions
getting more and more delightful as time went
on. Gradually though, once they'd hit 15, although
they remained the best of friends they had sex
together less and less until eventually they ceased
altogether apart from the occasional jerk-off
session when they were feeling especially horny. Tom
hadn't had any anal sex since then, and
hadn't even thought about it until now.

He turned to look at Billy, nestled against his chest,
lazily playing with his dick and balls. Tom
hugged him lightly and squeezed his balls. "Alright,
tiger?" he said tenderly.
Billy was blissfully content, and murmured softly,
"Mmmmmm, This's fun,"
Pulling Billy up to his face, he smiled at him and
kissed him softly on the lips. Billy manoeuvred
himself to lay stretched out on top, his legs between
Tom's, their dicks squashed between their
navels. Time seemed to stand still for the duo as they
lay together, Billy listening to Tom's slow,
rhythmic heartbeat in between kissing him and
caressing his dick and balls. Tom was simply
enjoying the presence of the boy, revelling in his
nakedness and warmth as they embraced, feeling
his hairless balls and erect prick against his skin.

They would have remained like this all night if Billy
hadn't suddenly decided that it was time for
some action: it would be nice if he had his dick
sucked. Unwrapping himself from Tom, he knelt
astride him, grinning wickedly and pointed his cock at
Tom's lips, daring him to refuse to offer.
Tom gripped the tumescent cock between his thumb and
finger and examined it closely from all
angles, watching the pre-cum appearing through the
piss slit, then said sorrowfully, "Naah, I don't
think so. It's got a leak."

Billy started to lean forwards, panic beginning to set
in before realising that Tom was pulling his
leg.
"Dickhead!" he mouthed. "Go on, please!"

"Oh, alright then, if you insist."

Tom wrapped his lips round the head of the perfect
cock and gripped it just under the purple
head, licking and sucking just the tip, occasionally
swiping his tongue just beneath the head. Billy
jumped at the first touch, a bolt of lightening
streaking through his small frame. Concentrating just
on the tip of his cock, Tom started to give Billy the
blow job of his life. For the first time Tom and
Billy felt truly at ease with each other, Billy
because he was with someone who cared how he felt
and what he was thinking, and Tom because it seemed
young Billy was happy to go to bed with
him and enjoyed 'messing about'. It was more enjoyable
too because if anyone ever found out that
Billy was calling on Tom at his home, they had a good
excuse in that he was supposed to be
studying - studying what is neither here nor there!

Once he'd got over the initial shock of the lightening
bolt of erotic stimulation, Billy leant his head
back and sighed deeply before pushing his dick into
Tom's mouth as far as he could, finally getting
his cockhead into Tom's throat. He sat back on his
haunches, delirious with the totally
overpowering sexual arousal. As he leaned back, he
sensed Tom's iron-hard boner pressing
against his butt-crack and reached around to hold it.
He too was now leaking masses of pre-cum
and Billy delighted in wiping it up and down his bum,
slowly masturbating him in the process. It
was whilst doing this that he accidentally allowed it
to touch his butt-hole, and the novel sensation
caused him to jump with pleasure. He thought for a
second and tried to push it into his hole
gently, without success. But, he presumed, if he tried
a little harder, ........
Tom felt what Billy was trying to do and stopped
playing with his dick to look up at him.
"No," he whispered. "Not like that." He rolled Billy
off his chest and placing an arm underneath
him, said, "Do you really want to do that?"

Billy, still ecstatic, but pissed off that Tom had
stopped blowing him, simply nodded.
"Ok, then. Get over on your back."

Tom arranged a pillow underneath Billy's back and
raised his legs to his shoulders, exposing his
beautiful deep pink hole. As Tom manoeuvred Billy into
the best position, he thought about what
he was just about to do. Apart from the fact that he
wasn't very experienced at this, it was also
Billy's first time and it scared him a little.

"You sure?" he questioned, half-hoping that Billy
might have changed his mind.
"Yeah. I wanna try it, honestly."

"It's gonna hurt some at first, but then it gets
better. Tell me if it's too much and I'll stop; we can
always try it again later."

In his haste, Tom had forgotten that they would need
some sort of lubricant. Frantically he tried
to think of anything suitable he had in the house
before remembering the tub of lanolin cream he
used for his dry skin. Telling Billy not to move for a
minute, he hurried to the bathroom, found
the cream and dashed back. Billy looked at the pot
curiously, but said nothing, after all 'his man'
knew what he was doing.

"This'll make it easier to get it in," Tom explained
as he smeared the white ointment over his dick
and round Billy's waiting hole. Gently he inserted
first one, then two fingers into the orifice,
ensuring the cream was well spread out.

Billy winced as the fingers forced their way in to
him, but sighed with relief as the pain quickly
went, to be replaced with a wonderful full feeling,
making him shudder with exhilaration. If it was
this good with just his fingers, he couldn't wait
until Tom's dick replaced them. With a lot of
concentration, Billy found he could actually relax his
sphincter, which made it a lot better and
easier for them both.

Once he was sure Billy was well greased up, he touched
his throbbing cockhead against Billy and
looked at him.

"Sure?" he asked one more time.

"Yeah. Go on, try it."

Tom pushed, gently at first, but then increasing the
pressure as he felt the resistance and the
muscle fighting back.

"Try to relax it," Tom whispered.

Billy did so, but still it wouldn't slide in. They
were both getting frustrated at the lack of success,
but at the fourth try, Tom's cock slipped through the
barrier with an almost audible pop. Billy
gasped at the sudden sharp pain and grabbed Tom's
waist in panic, "Stop!" he gasped.
Tom, taken by as much surprise as Billy had already
stopped. He was just going to pull out when
he heard Billy say, "Wait. It'll be OK. Just wait a
minute."
They froze where they were until the discomfort had
eased and the youngster nodded for him to
carry on. Very slowly Tom inserted the rest of his
tool in one smooth move, only stopping when
he could go no further.

"That's it. It's all in. How do you feel?" he asked,
feeling sorry for him in an odd sort of way.
"OK. The pain's gone now. It feels good - better than
good, it's filling all my inside up. I like it!"
And he did like it. He'd never felt like this before,
sort of glowing all over and red-hot at the same
time. His solidly hard dick was standing up, still
making pre-cum he noticed idly, so everything
must be OK. Grasping it gently in his fingers, he
alternately squeezed and relaxed his hold grip,
increasing his arousal even more. Automatically he
started to buck his hips, feeling Tom's cock
moving in and out of him.  'This is sensational!' he
thought, 'fucking sensational!'
Tom, aware that Billy was now calmer and actually
trying to fuck himself, began to move in time
with him. All the magical feelings from his youth
years ago suddenly surfaced as he stared to
make love to his boy, it was as if all the intervening
years had melted away and he was back with
Michael, doing what they did best. Closing his eyes,
he concentrated on giving his boy the
maximum of enjoyment, working his dick back and forth
sensuously. They were both moaning
with happiness as they worked together, Billy almost
screaming with euphoria as his prostate was
stimulated time and time again, lending an urgent
passion to Tom as he speeded up his thrustings,
savouring every fantastic second of the feast. Billy
masturbated himself fiercely, his hand a blur as
he wanked.

With a final, heaven-sent thrust, Tom let out a loud
'Aaaaaaarghh!' as his balls emptied themselves
deep down Billy's insides, seemingly gallons of sperm
spraying his guts. This was far too much for
Billy to cope with, and seconds afterwards shot his
jet-propelled juices high in the air, cumming so
violently his cock ached with the effort.

Tom was exhausted, and once his cock had softened
enough, withdrew from Billy and collapsed
alongside him, grinning tiredly at him. "That was
fantastic!" he sighed, "Wonderful!"
Billy was over the moon, and far from being tired was
feeling extraordinarily full of life, his
excitement showing in his ruddy complexion and
sparkling eyes. Turning over to face Tom, he
kissed him, hard, on the lips. "That was fuck ......,
fantastic, I'd never believe it could have been
so, so, well, terrific!" he gasped out. "And it hardly
hurt at all! Can we do it again?"
Despite his distinct lack of energy, Tom managed to
hug Billy tightly and stroking his hair,
answered that there was no way he could do it again,
not yet anyway, he wasn't twelve years old
any more!

Billy giggled and kissed him again

After an hour or so wrapped up in each other's arms,
snug under the blanket, it was time for Billy
to leave, much to their regret. Scrabbling round for
his clothes, he dressed hurriedly and gave
Tom one last kiss goodbye, their tongues dancing
together.
"I'll miss you," Billy said sorrowfully, "I wish I
didn't have to go home just yet."
"Me too," Tom said, "Still, we'll see each other
tomorrow at school."
"Yeah, but it isn't the same. I wish ...." He stopped,
not wanting to put into words what he was
thinking. With that, Billy ran home, feeling somehow
sad and gloriously happy at the same time.
______________________________________________________________________________
Chapter Twelve.

As the days went by, Billy grew more and more
comfortable with Tom and they built up a close
friendship, not only because they had good sex
together, but also oddly enough they actually liked
each other and enjoyed being in each other's company.
In fact, after two months had flown by,
Billy had stopped seeing Tim altogether, apart from
the odd occasion when Tim almost demanded
they had some sex fun together. It was OK, but wasn't
the same as he did with Tom somehow,
just a hurried wank or quick jerk-off and that was it.
Billy was secretly pleased when he noticed
Tim had a new friend from school, a boy he knew
slightly from one of his classes. From then on,
he hardly ever saw Tim without his friend; whether
they did 'it' together or not, Billy didn't care -
but he hoped they did.

Tom and he met at his house almost everyday,
eventually coming to a sort of unwritten agreement
in that Billy actually did school work at least three
times a week, if only for half an hour, and as a
result he started to use his brain and at Christmas
was moved up a class. Tom was even
congratulated by the other teachers on the remarkable
improvement he'd obtained with Billy, ands
was frequently asked how he managed to motivate him so
well. He said he'd no idea, just hard
work!

Billy's home life didn't improve any, in fact it got
worse if anything. Slowly his mother realised he
was spending less and less time in the house, and more
time 'out playing' somewhere or other -
not that she cared very much. He stopped going to see
his father, much to his relief as he'd always
considered the kid an encumbrance anyway, the regular
Saturday visit seriously intruding on his
so-called social life.

After a lot of thought, Tom offered to pay Billy for
doing odd jobs around the house at
week-ends, cleaning the car, doing the garden and so
on. He liked having the lad around and
knew the money would come in useful as well as having
a reason to get out of the house for a
time. Billy, knowing exactly what would happen if his
mother found out he had money, no matter
where from, took great care to keep it hidden in his
locker at school. The first thing he did when
he got paid was to go out and buy Tom a present, only
a new pen, but it was given and accepted
with a growing love the two were building up. The next
thing he wanted to do with his money
needed Tom's help - he wanted some new, clean
underwear. Tom gladly went out to buy it for
him, without Billy, imagining what would happen if
anyone saw them together buying underwear!
It was after Christmas, and before school re-started
for the Spring Term that disaster almost
struck. One Saturday after Billy had finished weeding
the garden, they'd gone out and had a
beefburger and Chips as they sometimes did, when
walking back home they met Billy's mother
and her current man-friend. She seemed to be sober for
once and, feeling extremely frightened,
Billy had no choice but to introduce her to Tom.

"You remember mum, he's my teacher from school,
helping me with my homework."
With an immense effort she vaguely remembered Billy
mentioning it once, and smiled vacantly as
she said, "Hello. Thanks for 'elping 'im."

"That's alright," Tom said, every bit as nervous as
Billy. "He's doing well."
"That's good, 'cause he's as thick as pigshit and
needs all the 'elp he can get!", she replied,
laughing, but meaning it at the same time.

"Well, he's not too bad," Tom answered carefully.

There was an awkward silence for a minute or two as
the conversation died, both sides feeling
they aught to say something but not knowing what.

Tom decided to mention something which he had been
thinking about ever since Billy brought it
up during one of their conversations in bed one night.
"Would you mind if Billy came to my house
sometimes at week-ends to help with the garden and so
on. I would really appreciate it as there is
too much for me to do by myself."

Without a seconds thought, Billy's mother replied that
she thought it was a great idea, and did it
mean he would be there all day?

Sensing immediately that it would suit her admirably
if he was, Tom replied that it probably
would. You could almost see the wheels turning in her
head as she imagined how much better for
her it would be knowing Billy was out of the house for
the entire day.
"Yeah, that's OK, it'll keep him out of fu .... err
... trouble anyway."
Billy's mother now seemed anxious to get away home
with her bored and impatient companion, so
they said a quick goodbye and went their own ways,
Billy walking away with Tom after telling his
mother he wouldn't be home 'till later that night.
Uppermost in his mind was that he could now
visit with Tom all week-end, officially.

The arrangement worked perfectly, Billy skipping out
of the house as soon as he could in the
morning, almost beating Tom out of bed most times. His
mother became used to Billy being away
for the day and soon found her time otherwise occupied
and was just as keen as Billy was for him
to get away.

One particular Saturday about six weeks after he'd
started going round to work with Tom, Billy
woke up feeling especially horny for some reason or
other and even had an expectant hard-on
before leaving home to go and see Tom. Deciding not to
do anything about it himself, he rushed
to get out and see if Tom would help him take care of
it. As he was searching for his clothes, he
was thinking how brilliant it would be if he could
actually spend the whole week-end with Tom,
including the night-time. An idea began to form in his
mind. Could he dare? What would she say?
What sort of mood is she in? He knew she was
hung-over, the empty scotch bottle on the table
testified to that. But was she in a bad mood?

"Mum?" he started tentatively.

"Yeah?" she answered flatly.

"We're decorating Mr. Brown's kitchen this week-end,
and probably won't be finished until
tomorrow. Do you think I could stay at his house
tonight, 'cause I'd only have to go back early
tomorrow and finish off, and I'll be covered in paint
and stuff anyway."
Her eyes stared blankly into space as she slowly
absorbed what Billy had just said.
"Stay all night?" she queried, he voice flat and
monotonous.
"Yeah," Billy answered, completely unable to guess
what she was thinking and assuming he'd
blown it.

As the light dawned, it struck here that for the first
time in years she would be alone in the flat all
night, without Billy being here to ruin things for
her.

"Yeah, I suppose so," she drawled, "But don't come
back here at some god-forsaken hour of the
night and expected me to get out of fuckin' bed to let
you in, 'cause I won't."
Billy's erection suddenly got harder, and with the
greatest difficulty hid his excitement. Ignoring
her last comment, he simply said, "Thanks, mum. I'll
see you tomorrow, then."
"Yeah. Whatever," she replied, the conversation
already forgotten.
Billy raced to Tom's house in record time with the
good news. As Tom opened the front door, he
was besieged by a very excited Billy, who hugged him
tightly almost before the door was closed.
"Got some brilliant news for you!" Billy gasped out,
kissing his man on the cheek.
"What?" Tom laughed, picking the youngster up and
spinning him round, pleased to see him in
such a good mood so early in the day for a change.

"I'm staying the night! All night. Just me and you!"
he laughed.
It took a moment for this to sink in. Then he became
serious as he realised what Billy had said to
him.

"Staying the night? But how? Why?"

Tom listened as Billy explained his idea about
decorating and how his mother had agreed to his
staying with Tom for the night. He took some
convincing that she'd actually agreed to let Billy
stay, but once he thought about it, and against his
better judgment in some ways, agreed that Billy
could stop. Tom sighed inwardly as he realised that
the boy's mother cared even less about his
welfare and safety than he thought.

Ten minutes later when they were seated on the sofa,
with Billy settled as usual in his lap, Tom
said, as gently as he could that he didn't mind Billy
stopping the night sometimes, but next time
could he please ask first! "After all," he added, "I
might've been going out, or be having friends
round."

It hadn't occurred to Billy that Tom might have a
social life of his own, or even had friends other
than himself. He took this new thought on board and
apologised as much as he could for being
selfish and thoughtless. "Sorry," he mumbled, "I
didn't think."
"That's OK, just this once, but please make sure you
ask the next time."
Billy grinned, 'the next time' was all he heard, and
that was enough. He nestled down on his lap,
hugged Tom gently and relaxed - it was going to be a
fantastic week-end.
"Can I do something?" Billy asked after a while.

"What?" Tom said, looking lovingly at the boy.

"Can I get dressed up in my best clothes and pretend I
live here?" he said, wistfully.
Tom felt desperately sorry for the lad, what he was
asking for in a round-about way was what
almost every other youngster takes for granted, a
warm, caring home and a family, if only for the
week-end.

"Yes, of course. I think it's a brilliant idea, I'd
like that too."
Together, they went upstairs to the wardrobe where Tom
kept a spare set of Billy's 'best clothes',
the uniform he'd salvaged from the school lost
property, and his new underwear. He was laying
them out on the chair when he was brought to a sudden
stop.
"Wait!" Billy, said, "I'm not ready yet."

Bemused, Tom watched as Billy rapidly stripped off,
kicked his discarded clothes under the bed
where they wouldn't be seen, and climbed into bed.
Tom, dropping into his unexpected role as his
father, left the room for a moment more than willing
to play along.
A minute or two later, he tapped on the door and
entered his bedroom. Billy was laying in bed
eyes closed and pretending to be asleep. Tom went
across shook him awake.
"Good morning, Billy!" he said, "Time to get up."

Rubbing his eyes and pretending to yawn, he tumbled
out of bed, stark naked, and for once
without an erection.

"I gotta have a shower," he said seriously. Tom
wrapped a towel round him and led him to the
bathroom. Much to his surprise, Billy stopped at the
bathroom door and pushed Tom away
gently.
"Thanks. I can manage by myself from here."

Now that was unusual, Tom mused, he enjoys showering
together; he really is serious about this
week-end. Shrugging his shoulders, he went downstairs
and prepared a late breakfast for them of
bacon sandwiches and tea. Fifteen minutes later, Billy
came downstairs, dressed in his white shirt
and black trousers, freshly scrubbed and hair combed
for once. There was even a slight odour of
deodorant, Tom noticed amusedly. Tom took a long look
at the new, shining, Billy, feeling a lump
grow in his throat. He really is handsome when he is
given the chance, Tom thought, a really
good-looking young man, someone any normal person
would be proud of . How is it humanly
possible for anyone to treat him like ........... his
somewhat morbid thoughts were interrupted.
"Morning, Dad," the youngster said, looking sideways
at Tom to see how he reacted.
"Morning, son," he said. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you." he replied formally, pleased that
Tom hadn't taken the piss out of him and was
obviously willing that the game continue.

He sat down to eat, acting the part perfectly. Once
the meal was finished and the clearing-up out
of the way, the pair retired to the living room. Tom
sat in his usual easy-chair, Billy sprawled out
on the floor watching the Saturday morning cartoons on
tv. Despite the two shocks he'd had
today so far, Tom was amazingly calm all things
considered, in fact he was really starting to enjoy
the game. 'This isn't a game,' he startled himself by
thinking, 'not to Billy anyway.' Looking round
the room, it was amazing how Billy seemed to fit into
it, not only the room in fact, but the whole
house, it seemed to come alive whenever he was around.


"I think you should have a new name," Tom said to the
youngster laying on his carpet.
Billy turned over, staring at Tom. He hadn't thought
of that - he'd always been called 'Billy' and it
had never occurred to him to change it. But now it
just seemed the right thing to do.
"Yes, I'd like that." He thought deeply for a couple
of minutes before saying, "I like Tom, but we
can't have two Toms, can we?" he giggled. "Do you have
a middle name?"
"Err, yes, I do as a matter of fact."

"Well?"

"It's James."

"Brilliant! I like that!" From now on, I'm James. Not
Jimmy or Jim though I don't like those, it's
got to be James."

"Fine, James it is then. Welcome home, James."

Billy, now called James, leapt up from the floor and
jumped into Tom's lap, wrapping his arms
round him. He kissed him on the cheek lightly at first
and then more passionately. "Can I call you
'Dad' when we're alone?" he whispered.

"Yes, I'd like that," Tom said, hoping fervently that
the lad wouldn't forget and call him dad at the
wrong time - that could be a little embarrassing!

James remained on Tom's lap for another hour or so,
for once actually keeping his hands to
himself apart from a hug once in a while, accompanied
by a broad grin, thoroughly enjoying
himself.

"How would it be if we went out in the car to do some
shopping, son?" Tom asked James. "Not
here, but in another town where nobody knows us."

"Excellent!" James cried out, "Can we, honestly?"

"Yes, I don't see why not."

An hour later they were wandering down the High Street
window-shopping when Tom noticed
James had slipped his hand into his and was holding on
tightly. They smiled conspiratorially at
each other.

"Let's do some shopping!" Tom said brightly. "I think
my son needs some new clothes."
James stopped suddenly, open mouthed. "Really?" he
gasped.
"Yep. Come on, let's go and explore."

They hit the nearest department store and spent a
glorious hour sorting out two sports shirts and
two pairs of jeans for him, one set of which he
insisted on wearing. James even insisted that Tom
bought a matching shirt for himself, which he had to
put on as well. The shopping was completed
when James, using his own money, bought himself a
toothbrush, toothpaste and face cloth,
ceremoniously handing them to Tom, thus wordlessly
establishing himself firmly as a full member
of the household.

>From the shop they went and had a meal in a cafe, both
happier than they been for a very long
time.

James behaved with perfect decorum all the while they
were out, surprising Tom with his ability
to act so grown-up and mature for a lad his age and
background. Even his language had somehow
changed; he'd lost that sort of common street-wise
edge to it. He was getting to like the feeling of
having a son around already.

Once in the car though, James dropped the facade and
broke out in a huge grin, leaning over and
giving Tom a big kiss on the lips once he'd checked no
one was around to notice.
"Thanks, Tom," he said, "This is my best day ever."

"Mine too," Tom replied, looking at him and smiling.
The odd thing was that he meant it.
Once back at the house, they hurried indoors to unwrap
and put away James' new clothes and
toiletries. Now he really was home.

They kept up the father/son game for the rest of the
day and into the evening, having a tv dinner
and watching a comedy film together on the sofa. Once
the curtains were drawn on the lights
turned on, the four walls of the room provided all the
world they wanted, and both were well
satisfied with their amazing day. What's more, sex
hadn't even thought about all day, much less
acted upon, despite their proximity to each other.

Not until bed-time that is. It was almost midnight
before they switched the tv off and yawned
simultaneously. It'd struck them both during the
evening that the father/son diversion they'd so
much enjoyed had to come to an end at bedtime as there
was only one bed. Admittedly, there was
another one in the spare room, but that hadn't been
used for months and months, and in any case
the room hadn't been aired or the bed made. Tom was
willing to go along with James, whatever
he chose to do, even sleeping on the sofa if James
wanted his 'own room'.
James had already decided what he was going to do. Fun
though their game had been, it had to
stop when they went to bed - together. He didn't know
for sure, but guessed that most fathers and
sons didn't sleep together as a rule, and most
certainly never got up to the sort of things that he
fully intended to do with Tom tonight. He had been as
randy as hell in the morning, and hadn't
even jerked off once today, having other things on his
mind. But now the feelings came back with
a vengeance and he was more than ready to make up for
lost time.
As they turned off the lights and went upstairs, James
stopped, turned to face Tom and said with
as much meaning as he could, "You can call me Billy
now."

Tom just nodded in answer. James had had a wonderful
day being a son out with his dad, but now
Billy wanted the physical contact and loving from Tom,
'his man', and the only person in the world
who gave a toss about him.

One quick wash and brush-up later and they were in
bed, cuddled up together with the radio
playing softly in the background.

"It's good being James Brown," Billy whispered, "At
least during the day it is, but at night I think
I'll go back to being Billy. It's more fun." With that
he took hold of Tom's penis and squeezed it
lovingly. It rose to an instant hard-on, matched by
Billy's prompt and satisfying arousal as Tom
cupped his cock and balls in his hands and fondled it
just as lovingly. Being father and son was
fantastic, but did have its disadvantages they both
acknowledged to themselves as they kissed
deeply, lips and tongues meeting in mutual love.

Knowing that, for the first time, they were going to
spend the whole night together they cuddled
up together, Billy resting his head on Tom's chest,
his hands resting on his shoulders. He loved
just laying there listening to his heart, the slow
steady beat somehow comforting him. Even just
holding each other's dicks was in a way comforting;
there was no one else he could do it with, or
wanted to for that matter - it was something special
between themselves, confirming their
closeness. Billy sighed, perfectly at peace with the
world.
Tom was in much the same frame of mind; he'd had a
strange, exciting day, one which he knew
had changed him in a major way. The beautiful boy
laying happily in his arms and in his bed was
filling a gap in his life he never knew he had. Six
months ago he was happy enough doing his job,
coming home to a comfortable house and living an easy,
but solitary existence. He wasn't
precisely sure how Billy had managed to change his
life so much in such a short space of time, but
change it he had, and very much for the better. He now
had a reason to get out of bed in the
mornings and go to work, looking forward keenly to any
time he could spend with Billy, no
matter how brief. And what's more, it appeared Billy
felt the same. Gently stroking his back,
Tom's mind turned to Billy and thought how much he'd
changed too. His school work, his
appearance and even his attitude to life had improved,
he could almost see him standing taller and
gaining self-confidence and self-respect every time
they met. He devoutly hoped that nothing
would ever happen to change things.

Billy sighed and stretched himself, awaking from a
short doze. Still bleary-eyed, he lifted his head
up to look into Tom's eyes.

"I thought it was a dream," he said sleepily, "I
thought it was too good to be true."
Tom looked back into Billy's face and stroked his
cheek. "It's not a dream," he replied softly and
kissed him on the forehead.

"Good," Billy answered, now fully awake and wanting
some fun.
Playfully he stretched out full length, covering Tom's
body as much as he could and arranging
their slowly hardening cocks so they were side by
side. He leaned down and kissed Tom on the
lips, softly at first, but quickly devouring his
tongue passionately. Tom, sensing the boy's urgency
returned the kiss and cuddled him closer, enjoying his
warmth, his sensuousness and his passion.
They stayed like this for ages, getting to know each
other even better in the privacy of their own
bed, discovering those little things which made two
people lovers and not simply ships in the
night.

Billy, giving Tom one last kiss, grinned at his
partner and disappeared under the bedclothes.
Seconds later Tom felt his dick engulfed in Billy's
warm, moist mouth, his tongue rapidly getting
to work on his throbbing shaft. It was unbelievable
how quickly Billy had become adept at
sucking Tom's cock, using not only his lips and
tongue, but also his feather-light fingers as well.
Tom, unable to reach Billy's dick as it was being
squeezed between them, stroked his back and
head, allowing himself to be totally immersed in the
phenomenal sensations emanating from his
groin. Dimly he became aware that Billy was gently
sliding his dick up and down his chest,
masturbating himself in perfect unison with the
intense sucking he was giving. Billy was as
completely lost in his own world as was Tom, both
united in love.
As far as Billy was concerned, what he was doing now
with Tom was the ultimate demonstration
of the love he felt for him. Tom had taken care of him
ever since that first day when he appeared
unannounced and unbidden in his office, begging for
help. From that moment on, they'd grown
together both physically and mentally, finding a
friendship he wouldn't have believed possible
between a man and a boy. And now he was sort of
unofficially his son; they'd been shopping
together, eaten together and were now spending the
night together. This was a world which until
now he'd only seen from afar, dreamed of, never once
thinking it would happen to him.
Billy felt Tom's prick swell and his balls contract
slightly. He sucked harder and fingered his balls,
waiting for his prize, eagerly he swallowed the
pre-cum in his mouth, aware his reward was only
seconds away. Tom moaned ecstatically, bucked his hips
and forced his dick deeply into Billy's
throat, and spasmed the biggest load of hot,
passionate cum he'd done for years. Without
hesitation Billy took the lot, swallowing every last
drop eagerly, anxious to get as much of his
man inside him as possible, only slowing down when he
sensed Tom's dick beginning to wilt. He
was completely unaware that he too had shot his bolt,
the cum welding the two together in a bond
of absolute devotion.

Tom was devastated, hardly able to breath let alone
talk or move. He threw his head back, mouth
agape gasping for air, unseeing and unfeeling. It
wasn't until Billy leaned into him and kissed him
tenderly, his breath cummy and warm, that he began to
revive, staring glassy-eyed at his
exuberant young lover.

Billy, his dick still rock hard, felt wonderful: it
was the perfect end to a perfect day. There was
only one more thing he wanted, and he would get it
first thing in the morning: of that he was
certain.

Once again nestled in each other's arms, they kissed
and cuddled until worn out with spent passion
they drifted off to sleep, heads touching and sharing
the same dreams.

Chapter Thirteen.

Billy awoke just after seven the following morning,
the sunlight streaming in through the big
windows. Opening his eyes slowly he discovered he was
still curled up with Tom, in more or less
the same position as he was when he went to sleep. He
smiled to himself, remembering yesterday
with immense delight and kissed Tom lightly on the
chest, mentally thanking him. Then he had to
move, his bladder demanding relief. With infinite care
he wriggled out of the warm bed without
disturbing Tom, and braving the chilly room scampered
to the bathroom, cupping his penis and
testicles against the cold air. Thinking ahead, he
also gave his teeth a quick clean with his own
brush and toothpaste. He also grabbed the tub of cream
they'd used before and carefully placed in
under the bed where he could reach for it when the
time came.
Just as carefully as he climbed out, Billy got back
into bed and curled up against Tom's back. The
sudden coolness woke Tom up, and he turned over lazily
to see Billy smiling at him.
"Sorry," he said, "I needed to use the toilet in a
hurry."
"Mmmmm, that's OK," Tom replied, still only
half-awake. His erection also reminded him that
perhaps a visit to the bathroom might be a good idea.
"Damn you," he grinned, "I didn't need to
go until you mentioned it!"

Billy giggled, and watched as Tom rolled out of bed,
wrap a dressing gown round himself and
disappear towards the toilet.

Tom soon returned and lay on his back, staring at the
ceiling, one arm under Billy's neck. "What
time is it?" he asked, sure it was far too early to be
up and around.
"About half-past seven," Billy said, throwing an arm
across Tom's chest and hugging him.
"Much too early!" Tom sighed dramatically and turned
his back on his bedmate. "Wake me at
Christmas!"

Billy sniggered, kissed Tom between the shoulder
blades, moulded himself into his back and let
his hand snake its way down towards Tom's groin to
find his dick. Once found he took it between
his fingers and playfully squeezed, waiting for it to
harden. His own cock, already hardened by
Tom's mere presence, he pushed between Tom's thighs.

Tom, aware of what Billy was doing, was quite content
to let him do what he wanted. Apart from
anything else, he was enjoying the gentle stimulation
Billy was giving him, and the feeling of his
cock between his legs was extremely erotic, rubbing
against that magical area behind his balls. It
wasn't long before they were both dripping pre-cum,
Billy helping his by slowly thrusting his hips
to and fro, effectively fucking Tom between his legs.
The sensation he had was phenomenal, his
entire dick was being massaged wonderfully, and unless
he stopped soon, he was sure to cum, and
Billy didn't want that, not just yet anyway. He had
other plans. Mischievously he ran a finger over
Tom's delicate cock-head, swiping up his pre-cum and
spreading it all over his dick.
"You awake properly yet?" Billy whispered, nibbling
Tom's ear.
"Mmmmm. I am now!" Tom said, amazed once more at
Billy's skill in arousing him.
"Good. I want to try something," Billy said seriously,
kneeling up now and pushing Tom onto his
back.

"What?" Tom replied, replacing Billy's hand with his
own on his dick and masturbating both his
and Billy's boner gently.

"I want to ... to, you know, do it with you."

Tom, assuming he knew what he meant, was more than
willing to oblige the seemingly insatiable
boy.
He pulled him down and kissed him on the lips, running
his fingers down his back and kneading
his butt cheeks, slipping a finger into his waiting
hole as he did so.
Billy returned the kisses fervently, now fully aroused
and looking forward to having his long-for
wish granted. Their tongues entwined as they
desperately sought to please each other, once more
thinking how lucky they were to have each other.

Somewhat anxiously Billy stopped what he was doing,
gave Tom a quick peck on the cheeks and
aid, "Come on then, unless I do it now, I'm going to
cum too soon."
To Tom's astonishment, Billy pressed down on Tom's
chest and re-adjusted his position, kneeling
between his spread-eagled legs.
"Lift them up for me?" he whispered, putting his hands
under Tom's knees. It hit him like a
thunderbolt; what Billy meant when he said he 'wanted
to do it', was not for Tom to make love to
Billy, but the other way round! There was only an
instant's pause before Tom, acceding to Billy's
wishes did as he was asked, looking forward immensely
to it.
Billy, now with the pot of skin cream in his hand,
took a big handful and carefully smeared it all
round Tom's anal ring and with little difficulty even
managed to lubricate the inside slightly as
well. Once his own dick was well and truly covered, he
inched up towards Tom and holding his
dick between his finger and thumb, touched it against
Tom's already spasming muscle. They
looked each other in the eye, each seeing an urgent
need in the other, and an unspoken signal of
love passed between them.

Tom took each of Billy's hands and kissed them gently
on the back, their eyes still remaining
locked. Billy inched forward just enough to put a
little force behind his dick as he guided it into
Tom. He watched as he thrust his hips forward and
pushed. Twice he tried without success, his
dick somehow managing to bend, despite its apparent
rock-solidness. For the third attempt he
grasped it firmly in his closed fist and pushed hard,
but this time it slipped away completely,
causing Billy almost to lose his balance. The was a
mouthed, "Fuck it!" from a severely frustrated
young man and a look of determination set on his face.
Tears were starting to run down his
cheeks with his apparent inability to do the one thing
in the world he desperately wanted to do:
demonstrate his love. Tom felt completely helpless,
unable to do any more than he was to assist
Billy in achieving his goal.

Once more Billy gritted his teeth, willed his dick to
get harder than it'd ever been before and
lunged forward viciously, not caring for a moment how
much pain it would cause either himself or
Tom. There was a split-seconds hesitation before the
resisting muscle gave up and the sheer force
suddenly allowed him entry. Both Tom and Billy winced
with the agonizingly sharp, sudden pain,
which faded away almost as suddenly as it arrived.

"Done it!" Billy gasped, his brow shining with sweat.
"I'm in."
Tom knew. His butt was filled with the most awesome
feeling: it seemed Billy's five-inch dick had
instantly transformed into a yard-long instrument of
pleasure, his whole body filled with warmth
and lust. Billy gave an enormous sigh and smiled to
himself, relieved and inordinately proud of his
achievement. He was actually making love to a man, to
his own man. It was impossible to
describe how he felt just then, he was in heaven, his
whole being seemingly centred around his
groin and the fantastic way in which Tom was gripping
his cock. Slowly he eased it further in,
surprised at how easy it was now compared with the
monumental effort it'd taken to get as far as
this. All pain, all worries and all feelings of
frustration evaporated as he slid further and further
down, not stopping until he felt his balls touch Tom's
body.
Balancing himself carefully, he quickly wiped away the
tears from his face and smiled down at
Tom as if seeking his congratulations and approval to
carry on.
"That's fabulous, really fantastic," Tom said
honestly, "You feel bloody marvellous!"
Billy felt immensely proud of himself when he heard
this and letting his natural urges take over,
began to fuck Tom with slow, easy strokes, his face
contorted with delight as he savoured every
micro-second of his first real fuck. In and out he
slid, every fibre of his body responding to the
almost supernatural stimulation he was receiving. Up
and down, up and down he moved, eyes
closed and all breathing suspended. His dick was
throbbing, his balls had pulled up tightly to his
groin and he ached, pleasantly ached, all over. Then
he felt the tingly feeling start somewhere
down by his toes, rapidly working its way up to his
dick, making it swell even more if that were
possible, and continuing on to his chest and head.
Stars bust, angels sang and fireworks burst in
his brain as with a final, triumphant drive he
ejaculated a geyser of white-hot spunk deep into
Tom's bowels. Six or seven times he spasmed,
completely out of control, before he slowly came
down to Earth, the whole of his young body glistening
with perspiration. He'd done it! He'd
actually done it! The feeling was unbelievable, he was
soaring high in the sky with delight, looking
down on a wonderful, sexual, sensual, utterly
fantastic world!
Easing himself down between Tom's legs and wriggling
his way up his body, he gazed at Tom's
face, his eyes twinkling with elation. He kissed Tom
passionately and exuberantly, trying to pass
on some of his euphoria to his lover, trying to let
him know just how fucking amazing he felt.
Tom felt the tears dropping onto his face and, pushing
Billy away slightly, stared at him, worried
that somehow he'd hurt himself. He needn't have been
concerned though, his young lover was
grinning broadly: the tears were of happiness and joy.
He wrapped his arms round him and
hugged tightly, kissing him on the eyelids, whispering
how much he loved him over and over
again.

For another hour they lay together, their combined
sweat and spent sperm sticking them firmly to
each other, and neither giving a damn. Then, deciding
the bed was getting uncomfortably hot,
they got up, Tom helping Billy to his feet, smiling
gently at him. "Time for a shower," Tom said
quietly. Billy nodded, borrowed Tom's dressing gown
and headed for the bathroom, giving Tom a
very slight shake of the head as he made to follow
him. Apparently it was time for James to
appear again.

Downstairs in the kitchen a little later, Tom was
standing over the cooker watching the breakfast
when he became aware of James standing close behind
him, looking over his shoulder. James slid
his arms round Tom's waist and held him lightly. Tom
turned his head slightly and half-smiled at
him.

"You OK?" he said.

"Fine, thanks, dad," James said. "You?"

"Perfect." Tom replied, "Who wouldn't be with a
beautiful, handsome son like you?"
"Love you. Lots," he said very softly, and gave Tom a
nip on the neck with his teeth before
scampering out of the way of any possible retribution.

They ate their breakfast sat on the sofa, James
skimming through a pictorial history book of Tom's
and Tom just gazing at Billy/James wondrously, acutely
conscious that he'd got another erection.
He pulled James to him, nestling him against his side
and folded his arms round his slim waist.
Casually he let his clasped hands drop to James groin
to come to rest on his soft dick. Without
giving him a glance, James put a hand under Tom's,
forming a barrier preventing any contact.
Other than that, he made no effort to move.
Understanding his action, Tom kissed James on the
earlobe and gave him a little squeeze.

"What are we going to do today?" James asked.

Tom replied that Sundays were usually housework days
when he did all the washing and ironing
and so on. "But today, we'll go out if you like," he
finished.
"No. We'll stay in and do it together. We mustn't let
the house get into a mess otherwise it'll never
stay looking nice." Oddly, neither of them gave
Billy's normal living conditions a thought.
Usually Tom found housework a chore and did it only
out of necessity, but today it was actually
fun with the two of them scurrying round the house
dusting, polishing and vacuuming. As James
pushed the vacuum cleaner round upstairs, Tom gathered
together the last pile of dirty laundry,
including the sheets off their bed, and took them down
to the laundry room. There was only one
major job left, and that was the one he liked least -
pressing and ironing his shirts and things; that
was usually left until the evening when he often did
it whilst watching television. He was folding
the shirts up ready when James came in to put away the
vacuum cleaner.
"I've finished upstairs," he said, out of breath after
fighting with the cleaner, "And I've made the
bed as well." This meant that James had had to search
through the cupboards for the clean sheets;
but Tom didn't mind. Apart from the fact that there
wasn't anything to hide, especially from
James, he rather admired the youngsters initiative and
thanked him. "What about the ironing?"
James enquired. "Are we going to do that as well?"

"No, not now. I usually leave that until tonight.
Let's have something to eat and drink."
They sat in the kitchen having a sandwich and cup of
tea, both satisfied with the mornings' work,
but there was something niggling away at James and he
couldn't quite put his finger on it.
Glancing round the kitchen he spotted the pile of
clothes waiting to be ironed, and at the bottom
of them he could see his school clothes. It hadn't
crossed his mind until now that he always had
cleaned and pressed clothes to change into at school,
and that someone must have arranged it. He
looked at Tom questioningly, realising that he was the
only one who could have done it, and he'd
never said a word.

"Will you show me how to iron my shirts?" James asked.
"It's not fair that you always do it for
me." Tom smiled at James and nodded. Half an hour
later, James was thoroughly enjoying
himself, surrounded by freshly pressed shirts and
trousers, wondering idly why his mother never
seemed to find time to do this simple, relaxing job.

The remainder of the day was spent lazing about, James
and Tom chatting and watching
television; the time came however when James had to
think about going home - or rather to the
other life he led as he was already thinking of it.
Reluctantly he dragged himself off upstairs to
find his 'home' clothes and put his school things
away. Tom had followed him, sorry to see his
departure and wishing that the week-end would last
longer. James stripped off down to his skin,
folding his clothes slowly and carefully before
putting them away. After they were stowed away,
he scrabbled under the bed for the jeans and T-shirt
he'd discarded a life-time ago, throwing them
on the bed and staring at them in disgust, hating the
idea of having to put them back on. Tom saw
the hesitation in Billy's face and completely
understood his feelings.
"Never mind, Billy," he said softly embracing him,
"It's only until tomorrow morning."
Billy stared up at his man and started to tear up, the
warm salt drops running down his cheeks and
dripping on to the carpet. "I don't wanna go," he
sobbed, the tears falling freely now.
Tom let him cry until he heard Billy sniffle and wipe
his face with his hands. They looked at each
other, neither one of them able to put their thoughts
into words. Tom bent over slightly and
pecked Billy on the lips before hugging him tightly
and kissing him deeply and passionately. If he
wasn't careful, Tom thought, he'd be in the same
emotional state as Billy - then he had an idea.
"Come on, son," he said, a lot more cheerfully than he
felt, "Let's get you dressed. I've got an
idea."

Billy cheered up a little, but was still seriously
pissed off with the thought of having to go 'home'.
Picking up the boys underwear, Tom held them out at
arms length and ceremoniously dumped
them in the waste bin. "Put your other ones on; these
are foul." Billy did as he was told, curious as
to what Tom had planned for him.

As they walked down the corridor, Billy paused by the
spare room, looking longingly at the
unused and unmade double bunk beds through the
half-open door, imagining how he would fit
into it. Shrugging his shoulders, he dismissed the
impossible idea, pulled the door closed and went
downstairs. Back in the living room, Tom told Billy to
sit down for a minute as there was
something he had to do before he dropped him off at
home. Going to his desk, he picked up an
envelope and wrote Billy's name on it before putting a
20 pound note inside.
"There you are, your wages for the week-end
decorating. May I suggest that on the way home,
we stop off at the supermarket and invest your wages
in a new pair of trousers and a shirt? That
way you won't have any cash for you to ... err ...
lose, and you'll have some new clothes into the
bargain. Your mother can't complain at that,
especially if you give her the receipt and tell her
you
bought them with your own money."

On principal, Tom disliked the idea of having to buy
clothes for a 12-year old boy, he should be
given toys and books and things, but under the
conditions, he knew they were the best thing he
could buy - toys could come later.
Luckily there were very few other shoppers in the
24-hours superstore: Tom would have
preferred not to meet anyone either of them knew, but
at least he had a plausible excuse for
shopping with the lad who'd been working with him all
week-end if they did.
They managed to buy his trousers and shirt very
cheaply; a lot cheaper than Tom would have
liked, but then again he couldn't let him buy anything
much more expensive otherwise questions
might be asked. It also meant Billy had a few pounds
of his own in his pocket.
Feeling a great deal chirpier now, Billy sat back in
the car and thanked Tom profusely for the gifts
he'd had given to him this week-end. He would have
liked to have thanked him more physically,
but as they were in a car park, that didn't seem a
good idea. He did manage to steal a quick kiss
though as they pulled up at the end of the road where
Billy lived, just before he said 'goodnight',
even managing a weak smile as he did so.


Chapter Fourteen.

Billy was late for school the following morning, and
Tom was worried. Worried primarily because
he assumed they'd been found out and the first visit
he would have would be from the Police or
the Headmaster and not Billy. Even if that weren't
true, there must be a very good reason for his
lateness, which almost certainly involved him in some
way.
Fifteen minutes later, the door opened to admit Billy,
sullen-faced and obviously upset about
something.

"What's wrong?" Tom asked, pleased to see him, but
still very worried.
Billy closed the door slowly and walked across to Tom,
dropping his school bag on the floor.
Without opening his mouth, Billy sat on Tom's knee,
wrapped his arms round his neck and started
crying; heart-rending, heavy sobs, his body shaking
with emotion.
It took Billy fifteen minutes to calm down
sufficiently to explain what had happened. Apparently
when he got home last night, his mother still had her
boy-friend with her and they were both
drunk. He managed to get to his bedroom to hide his
new clothes before going back into the
living room to say hello, knowing if he didn't he'd be
dragged out anyway. The first thing that his
mother asked was how much money he'd got, and where it
was. Billy, now expecting a fight, went
and got the shopping bag with the receipt in and
showed it to her. At first she stared at it,
disbelievingly, before telling Billy in no uncertain
terms what she thought of him and to go to his
room and wait there for her.

Billy, after making sure his new clothes were well
hidden, got undressed and got into bed,
nervously awaiting her arrival. Eventually he heard
the front door close as the man left, and
shortly after she came in to his bedroom in a blind
rage and started to slap Billy until he told her
where the few pounds he'd got left were. She grabbed
it, stuffed it in her pocket and really lay into
her son, screaming abuse at him.

By now, Billy was speaking calmly and coldly, as if
relating a series of events which didn't
concern him in the slightest.

"What happened this morning, then?" Tom asked, his
anger only just being kept under control.
"I put my new clothes on to come to school and she
went apeshit again, bollocking me about
wasting money on clothes. She hit me again, but I
wasn't going to let her ruin my new things, so I
hit her back and ran out the house."

Tom was at a total loss as to what to do next, at
least with regard to Billy's mother. He could, and
would, take care of Billy somehow. "Did she hurt you
much?" he asked, still holding on tight to
him.

Saying nothing, Billy pulled his shirt out of his
trousers to reveal hand-shaped bruises across his
kidneys.

"Any more?" Tom asked, his voice now coldly quiet.
Billy nodded, "A couple."
"Get undressed, and let me see."

Billy stripped off. His entire upper body was covered
in bruises, none of which were too bad in
themselves, but the anger and ferocity with which
they'd been inflicted were more than self-
evident.

"OK, thanks, Billy." Tom said. "Do you want a shower
or not today?" He knew that putting
anything other than a soothing cream on the bruises
would only cause him more pain.
Billy said that he didn't want to shower, but he
wouldn't mind some skin cream on his back. While
Tom was applying the soothing ointment to the one
person he was beginning to care about most
in the world, his mind was turning over. It wouldn't
do any good reporting her to the authorities,
at least not yet. That would only result in Billy
being taken into Emergency Care, and things being
what they are, returned home after 24-hours after his
mother had agreed not to hit him any more.
No: it needed something more permanent than that.
Tom explained what they should do. "Listen, Billy. I
want to take some photographs of the
bruises you've got now, and I want you to write down,
in your own words, exactly what
happened, and why, including where you got the new
clothes from. I'm certain that that won't get
us into trouble, after all everyone including you
mother knows you've been coming to my house to
work. Once we've done that, you must keep a diary of
every time she swears at you, hits you, or
anything else she does to hurt you. That way, if ever
you need to prove what she's done, then you
can show them your diary. It'll be a big help."

"But what about us?" Billy said, "I can still come and
see you, can't I? It wouldn't be fair if I
couldn't."

"Yes, of course. What I'll do is write to your mother
and tell her that the school have seen these
marks on you, and made a record of them as we're
supposed to do by law. I can say that you
wouldn't tell us where you got them, but we think
you're being bullied - which in a way is true.
That way, your mother won't know you've told us, but
hopefully she'll be too frightened to do it
again."

Billy nodded in agreement and even managed to raise a
small smile in gratitude.
"Only one more thing," Tom said, "If ever she does it
again, and you feel like running, come to
my house, or telephone me straightaway. You've still
got the number?"
Billy repeated the number perfectly from memory and
promised to do as he'd been told.
They let it go at that for the time being, promising
to talk about it later, either after school or at
Tom's house that evening. Billy was just leaving to go
to class when Tom said, "By the way, have
you got PE today?" Tom knew full well he had, after
all he taught him. "Well, in that case I must
write myself a note excusing you."

He managed a cheeky grin, stuck his tongue out and
mouthed, "Dickhead!" to his man, feeling
infinitely better than he did when he first walked in
the room.
They didn't get chance to talk seriously until Billy
got to Tom's house that evening. Not
surprisingly, Billy's mother didn't remember too much
about last night or this morning, but she
knew enough to know that she'd beaten her son, not
that she regretted it in the slightest. What she
did remember clearly was that he'd hit back this
morning for the first time, and it'd hurt. Dimly she
realised that he was no longer a small child, he was a
big boy now, and growing up quickly - and
growing independent. That couldn't come soon enough
for her she thought, the sooner he was old
enough and big enough to get out of her life, the
better for all concerned. Thankfully, the school
didn't know it was herself who'd bruised him, the
stupid idiots thought he was being bullied, not
that he didn't deserve it.

Billy and Tom spent the evening talking about Billy's
home life and what, if anything, they could
do about it - which in fact wasn't very much unless
they involved the authorities, which neither
wanted to do unless they absolutely had to. The one
thing they agreed on was that Billy could
spend as much time as he wanted at Tom's house, with
the proviso that Billy should try not to
become too much of a frequent visitor that it became
obvious he was spending more time there
than at home or out playing with his friends. It
wouldn't be too difficult though for Billy to spend
his week-ends there, as well as the usual three or
four hours a week having his extra lessons. The
conversation ended on a cheerful note, with Billy
asking Tom if he could have the shower he
missed this morning.

Together they went up the stairs, Tom stepping into
the bedroom first just in case Billy wanted to
be left alone for a while.

"Where are you? You coming to do my hair?" Billy
shouted from the shower not long after,
"Come on, I'm ready."

Smiling broadly, Tom walked quickly to help Billy. As
soon as he walked in the room, he knew
things were getting back to normal. Billy was standing
under the water facing Tom, shampoo in
one hand and his boner in the other, grinning evilly.
"Come on, get undressed and come in here
with me, I'm feeling really dirty!" he smirked
playfully.

Seconds later, Tom had Billy in his arms, clinging on
to him tightly, letting the hot water soak
them both. "That's better," Billy sighed, "That's tons
better."
Gradually their erections rose to meet each other as
they caressed and cuddled, driving away the
memories of a bad day. Whatever may happen outside
Tom's front door, once in the house the
two could comfort and console one another just as they
wanted - and this was by far the best way.
In between cuddles, hugs and gropes, they somehow
managed to wash each other, despite getting
fits of the giggles every so often.

Turning the water off, Billy stepped out of the shower
and handed the enormous bath towel to
Tom, intimating that he should dry him. Gladly he did
as he was asked, taking care to pat him dry
over his still tender bruises. Kneeling down to dry
his legs, Tom watched as Billy began to push
his hips to and fro, his erection pointing enticingly
at Tom's face. He looked up questioningly into
the boy's face: the slightest of nods confirmed his
thoughts.
Letting the towel fall to the floor, Tom put his hands
round Billy's butt cheeks and drew him
forwards, opening his mouth. Billy, his hands resting
behind Tom's head, sighed contentedly as his
cock was engulfed.

"Can we go on the bed?" Billy whispered, his voice
trembling with emotion, still thrusting his
cock in and out slowly.

Tom led Billy to his room and lay down on top of the
bed, waiting for Billy to join him. Billy
stood by the side of the bed for a moment, his face
glowing with adoration. He would take all the
beatings in the world, just so long as he could be
with Tom once in a while, doing what they were
doing. Grinning, he leapt onto the bed, twisted
himself round and thrust Tom's cock deep into his
mouth, sucking on it desperately. Tom gasped in awe as
he felt his dick besieged by Billy's tongue
and throat with an urgent and intense desire. It was a
while before he managed to take Billy's
leaking cock into him and lovingly massage it with his
tongue, swallowing with delight all the pre-
cum he was dripping. The two wriggled and writhed
together ecstatically, extracting every ounce
of pleasure from one another, showing their relief
that what could have been a serious threat to
their love-making had been thwarted.

Billy tried as hard as he could to hold off cumming,
but the combination of his compelling need
and superbly erotic tonguing from Tom had their effect
and he felt his balls contract. "I'm
cumming, Jesus!" he just managed to yell out as his
dick throbbed and spasmed out the seeds of
his love. "Christ!" he gasped as the last throb
deposited its load into Tom. Tom's dick, now
released from Billy's mouth, shot its gift violently
onto Billy's chest and face, covering it with gobs
of hot, glistening cum, lovingly given and gladly
accepted by a well and truly exhausted boy.
"That was ace!" Billy said once he'd regained his
composure, "Really, really good. Thank you!"
Tom giggled at Billy's thanks, amused by his
politeness, given the situation they were in.
"Thank you!" Tom replied formally. "You feel alright
now?"
"Yeah. Fantastic," his erstwhile son replied, laying
back on the bed alongside Tom. "Can we do it
again?"

"Jesus!" Tom laughed, "Give me a chance will you? I'm
not as young, or as randy, as you!"
Billy sniggered. "Not now, silly. Tomorrow, and the
day after, and the day after, and ......"
Tom stopped him with a kiss, "Yes, of course. Whenever
you want if it makes you happy."
"It does," Billy said, still smiling. "And another
thing," Billy said a little while later, "James has
gone. It's much more fun being Billy I've decided,
James was no fun."
"Good. I prefer Billy anyway," Tom laughed, pleased
that the boy had no more need of his
temporary alter ego. "Now, much as I love having you,
it's time you went home. You can have
too much of a good thing you know." He swatted Billy
on his rump and gently pushed him off the
bed onto the floor.

Billy pulled a face and leapt back on the bed, laying
full length on Tom and pinning his arms over
his head. The happy, cheerful grin disappeared as he
looked seriously into Tom's eyes and
whispered, "I love you." Then kissed him tenderly
before leaping back off the bed, saying "At
least when you're in a good mood and not being a
teacher!" He scampered off to find his clothes
before Tom could think of a reply.

_____________________________________________________________________________


Chapter Fifteen.

There were no repercussions from the episode with
Billy's mother, in fact over the ensuing weeks
her attitude towards her son changed subtly, something
which didn't go un-noticed by Tom and
Billy. She took less of an interest in his comings and
goings and as long as he kept out of her way
and out of trouble, she was happy. In her sober
moments she realised that she'd been extremely
lucky to get away with so much in the past: not only
the abuse, but also her lack of care in
keeping him (and the house) clean and tidy. She wasn't
entirely sure how he was doing it, but he
was managing to keep himself fairly smart and well
dressed. It was assumed that the money he got
from helping Mr Brown paid for his clothes and things,
which was fine by her.
Billy's 13th birthday came and went, ignored by his
mother apart from a cheap card and a 5 pound note.
Tom bought a computer for him, and installed it in the
living room at number 47, much to Billy's
delight. Despite Tom's comments ages ago, Billy was
spending almost all his time there now when
he wasn't at home or our playing with his friends. He
had more of his belongings there than he did
in his own house and had to all intents and purposes
taken over the spare room to keep them in.

As far as Tom was concerned, things couldn't be
better. To begin with, he'd kept the school
informed of everything he did with Billy which might
affect his work, including his taking care of
Billy at the week-ends. This was tacitly accepted by
the Headmaster and staff who left Tom to
manage his own affairs, knowing that Billy was
enjoying a far better standard of life than he
would otherwise have.

The real change in their lives came during the long
summer holidays. Tom had arranged to go
away for a couple of weeks, taking a break and
visiting friends, but after a week he found he was
missing Billy and was worried about him. So much so in
fact that he broke short his holiday and
returned home, anxious to make sure things were still
alright with him.
Billy had spent a miserable seven days, getting under
his mother's feet and moping about the
house aimlessly. He'd been round to Tom's house at
least once a day, and usually more, hoping
that he'd come back early, but there was no sign of
him. Not until Saturday that is. As he strolled
round the corner into the main road, he stopped and
stared disbelievingly at Tom's house; there, in
the drive was Tom's car! Running frantically down the
street, he dashed to the front door, rang
the bell and let himself in with the key Tom had given
him.
"Tom! Tom! Where are you?" he shouted, running from
room to room, searching for him.
"Upstairs in the bedroom," Tom shouted, more than
pleased to hear his voice again.
They met at the top of the stairs, embracing each
other and grinning all over their faces.
"You're back early! Fantastic!" Billy said, kissing
Tom on the cheek, his eyes sparkling with
delight.

"Yes, I missed you too much, I had to come back to see
you!"
Billy, not really realising just how true this was,
grinned even broader and hugged him tightly.
They made their way downstairs to the kitchen, Billy
not letting go of Tom's arm for an instant,
afraid he might disappear if he let go. Once tea was
made, they sat at the kitchen table, Billy still
staring doe-eyed at Tom.

"How's things at home?" Tom asked.

"OK. Mum's pissed off with me 'cause I'm home so much,
but now you're back I won't be there
much."

Tom was relieved to hear this and relaxed in his
chair, vowing to himself that he'd never leave
Billy alone again if he could avoid it - the sheer
exuberance he'd shown just now demonstrated
how much they hated being apart.

Billy, now a bit calmer, told Tom that he was going
home for a few minutes to tell his mother that
Tom was back and he would probably be staying at his
house overnight. "But there's no 'probably'
about it," Billy said, "I'm definitely staying."
Tom ruffled his hair and told him to hurry up and come
back.
Billy's mother was just as pleased as Billy that Tom
was back, not only because it meant Billy
would be out from under her feet, but also for
another, more personal reason. She'd arranged to
go away herself for a week with her current boyfriend,
but didn't know what to do with Billy. If
all else failed she would have to leave him here by
himself, asking the neighbours to keep an eye
out for him, but now his teacher was back, the problem
had been solved. Before Billy could rush
back out, she stopped him in her usual manner, " Come
'ere, you, I wanna tell you something."
Billy felt a knot in his stomach as he turned to look
at her, one hand on the door knob. He was in
half a mind just to ignore her and run, but something
told him to wait.
"Yeah?" he said, with an edge of defiance.

"See if you can stay at his house for a bit. Brian and
me is going to Blackpool for an 'oliday. It's
either there with 'im or 'ere by yourself. It's up to
you - you sort it."
He was overjoyed at this news, but didn't dare show
it. Instead, he pulled a face and said, sadly,
"Can't I come with you? I've not had a holiday for
ages." He hoped he knew the answer; the last
thing he wanted was a holiday with him and her.

"Piss off. You don't need no 'oliday, I do."

Billy dropped his head and shut the door behind him,
affecting an attitude of huge disappointment.
Once out of sight however, he punched the air with an
ecstatic whoop of joy and raced back to
Tom with the good news.

Tom was more than willing to look after him for as
long as she wanted as it turned out, but there
was one thing he had to do first. He explained to
Billy that of course he was welcome to stay for
as long as he liked, but he had to speak to his mother
first to confirm it. After all, he went on, you
are still only 13 and I aught really to see her
face-to-face and talk about it. The last thing Tom
wanted to do was see his mother, but felt that under
the circumstances he should, if only to
confirm it would be OK. Billy was just as nervous, he
didn't want Tom to see his house, or his
mother either, afraid that once he'd seen the mess he
lived in, he wouldn't want to be friends with
him anymore. He sighed, but said nothing.

"Let's do it now," Tom said, wanting to get the
unpleasant task out of the way.
They took the car, thinking that it would enable them
to get away quicker once the bound-to-be
awkward meeting was over. The closer they got to his
house, the more Billy showed his
nervousness. He was dreading it, terrified of what
might happen. He was about to tell Tom that he
would wait in the car for him, but was forestalled
when Tom gripped his hand and told him not to
worry, things would be OK. Tom hoped he was right - he
was just as nervous as Billy.
Tom stood on the doorstep while Billy went inside to
tell his mother that Mr Brown wanted to
see her. She went to the front door, wiping her hands
on her dress as she did so, wondering what
the hell he wanted. Could the kid stay there or not?
It was quite simple and didn't need him
coming to the house.

"Yes?" she said, carefully holding the door open just
enough for her to see him.
"Errr, hello Mrs Kirkpatrick," he started, offering
his hand for her to shake, "I'm Tom Brown,
Billy's teacher."

"Hello," she replied, ignoring his hand.

"Yes. Well. Err, Billy says that you'd like him to
stay with me for a few days while you go away.
Is that right?"

Billy's mother, realising that unless she was at least
civil to him he might refuse to take him, said
that was right and would it be OK?

Tom, feeling more confident now said it would be fine,
he just wanted to confirm it.
Mrs Kirkpatrick, relieved that there was no problem,
smiled for once and thanked him.
"When are you going?" Tom asked.

"Sunday, so he may as well stay with you now," she
said with more force than she intended, and
added lamely, "If that's alright."

"Sure. I'll wait here if you like while he gets his
things together."
The brief conversation ended, much to their joint
relief and Mrs Kirkpatrick retreated into the
house on the pretext of ensuring he packed everything
he needed, which wasn't much.
Five minutes later, they were back in the car, Billy's
school bag on the back seat, stuffed with
hastily gathered belongings he knew he'd never need.

Back in the house they sat on the sofa, Tom coming to
terms with the fact that he'd now got an
unexpected, but very welcome, house guest for a week
or two. Billy was equally shell-shocked,
not believing that he was going to live here for at
least a week.
"Right," said Tom eventually, getting to his feet,
"Let's get things organised. First, food
shopping."

They went to an out-of-town hypermarket and filled an
enormous trolley with a vast variety of
foods, most of which were probably very unhealthy, but
the staple diet of most teenagers. Billy
had never seen so much shopping in one go, his mother
could get all theirs into one carrier bag - it
took them five. Next on the agenda was a quick meal
for them both, taken in the nearest
MacDonalds - another place Billy had rarely been to.
Finally they got back home just as it was
getting dark and stacked their supplies in the
cupboards.

"Next thing," Tom said after tea, "Is to make your bed
up in the spare room."
Billy looked aghast, his jaw dropping open. This was
the last thing he expected, he'd assumed that
he'd be sleeping with Tom. "Have we go to?" he almost
whimpered, "I want to stay with you."

"And what would happen if we had visitors and they saw
only one bed made up?" Tom replied.
"What do you think they'd assume?" He let this soak in
before adding mischievously, "But no
one's saying you've got to use it every night."

There was an instant change in Billy as he realised
that Tom, as usual, was right. Breathing a sigh
of relief, he dragged Tom upstairs to help him make
his bed. They also moved all his clothes, of
which he now had quite a lot, into the wardrobe in
'his' room.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Tom said and went into his
bedroom "Wait here a minute. Don't move."
He came back with a small china plate which he gave to
Billy. "Here," he said, "This's for you. I
was going to do that room up for you anyway, you've
just arrived here a bit sooner than I thought
you would!"
Billy turned the plate over and stared. It was a door
plaque with a picture of a car on it, and
'Billy's Room' written on it in gold paint. It was
beautiful Billy decided, almost too nice to be
stuck on a door, but it did tell everyone that it was
his room and nobody else's and that made him
feel very proud and special. Carefully he peeled off
the backing paper and stuck it in the middle of
the door.

"That looks good. Thanks!" he said and gave Tom a hug.

In fact Billy never used his room to sleep in at all
that week, he was more than happy to spend the
nights with his man, sometimes messing about together
and sometimes not. They both enjoyed the
sense of freedom it gave them, being able to pleasure
each other when they wanted, but not
feeling the desperate urgency they usually felt when
they were only together for the one night.
What was far more important than their sex life though
was the fact that they discovered they
could live together in the same house and still remain
friends, each of them subconsciously
adapting to the other.

After a glorious couple of weeks acting as father and
son, the time sadly came when Billy's
mother eventually returned, despite their wishing she
would stay where she was, at least until the
end of the summer holidays. In fact she'd been home
for a couple of days before Billy, out playing
with his mates, had noticed the curtains had been
drawn back and the lights were on. He sighed
when he saw the signs of life, and chose not to tell
Tom she was back - not just yet anyway. That
night he was laying in bed, curled up with Tom when he
dropped the bombshell.
"She's back," he mumbled into Tom's chest, hating to
say the words.
"Oh." said Tom simply, waiting for Billy to say
something.
"I suppose I'd better go back tomorrow," he added
despondently. "Don't want to though."
"Never mind. You've got to go back sometime I guess.
In any case, you can always come back
you know, it's not like you're going far away is it?"

"No, suppose not, but I like it better here."

Tom cuddled Billy and stroked him gently, sympathising
with how he felt; he would be sorry to
lose him, if only for a few hours. There was one
sure-fire way to cheer him up, though ....
Tom reached down between them and found Billy's
flaccid dick. He held it in the palm of his
hand, feeling it get harder and harder as he pressed
on it gently with his thumb. Billy giggled as
Tom rubbed a finger lightly over the sensitive head.

"That tickles!" he laughed, wriggling away from Tom,
but returning for more instantly, grabbing
Tom's soft prick at the same time and squeezing it
just hard enough to make Tom wince.
"Pack it up!" Tom smiled, and pulled Billy on top of
him, biting him on the nose to divert him.
"It been fantastic living here," Billy said as they
cuddled together under the bedcovers, "And I'm
not too pissed off about going back home, at least I
can come back here whenever I want now."
There was a slight pause as Billy thought. "Yeah,
it'll be OK."
Tom felt Billy shift his position slightly and press
his dick between the top of his legs, making sure
Tom's boner was resting up his body. Slowly he
commenced to raise and lower his hips
sensuously, watching Tom's face lovingly as he pulled
back just enough to stimulate his cockhead
before sliding back down again, enjoying the feeling
of Tom's thighs as they pressed against his
swollen dick. This was one of Billy's favourite
activities, not only because it gave them both
immense erotic satisfaction, but he could look into
Tom's eyes, watching as he gradually became
more and more aroused by the slight movement of his
belly on his cock. He was also in total
control, moving faster or slower as he slowly built up
towards his own climax. Today, however,
Billy was to try something new.

"Turn over for me?" he asked, sensuously.

Tom did just that, holding his cheeks apart whilst
Billy smoothed the cream in. Leaning down
slightly, Billy pushed his dick against Tom, waiting
until his muscle relaxed before guiding it in.
They'd done this so often now that there was no
problem gaining entry, and Billy gave a well-
satisfied sigh as he allowed himself to sink deeper
and deeper, enjoying feeling just as much as he
did the first time. He rested for a while once he was
fully in, wriggling his hips once in a while to
amuse Tom and stimulating his prostrate at the same
time. No matter how much he was content
just to lie like this, his natural urges soon got the
better of him and he started to fuck Tom with an
ease and passion that he had become so good at in
recent weeks. Almost gracefully he lifted and
lowered his hips, raising both their passions
simultaneously, moaning and groaning in unison as
they satisfied themselves.

Billy kept up his steady rhythm even when he felt his
balls contract, and with an immense strength
of will, resisted the urge to race full tilt towards
his climax. He knew from experience that the
longer he could delay his orgasm this way, the better
it would eventually be. Unflagging in his
effort he ploughed on, now holding his breath in a
determined effort to delay his climax even
more. Then, finally unable to control himself any
longer, he allowed himself to cum, thrusting
rapturously deep inside Tom, his sperm exploding out
in one continuous stream of boiling hot
jism, making him almost faint with the force. He
didn't rest there too long though, because there
was one more thing he had to do, urgently. Pulling
himself out, he instantly took Tom's dick in his
mouth, and sucking furiously, swallowed all of his
lover's spunk as he ejaculated uncontrollably
under the young satyr's ministrations. Billy didn't
stop until he was sure he'd drained every last
miniscule drop from his man, then collapsed on him,
breathing heavily, eyes closed, and deliriously
happy.

They dozed for a while, dreaming of each other, and
how good life had been to them. In the early
hours Billy woke up as Tom slept, taking the
opportunity to sit stare at his naked body
affectionately, knowing that is was his almost as much
as it was Tom's now. Delicately he ran his
finger down from Tom's chin, round his nipples, over
his belly-button and down to his resting
cock, twirling his hairs between his fingers before
re-tracing his route back to his face. Tom
shivered in his sleep, making a half-hearted attempt
to brush away whatever was disturbing him.
Billy giggled quietly to himself and ran his fingers
equally softly round his lips and eyes, fixing his
image in his mind for ever. Tom opened his eyes
lazily, pulled Billy down to his chest, kissed him
on the head and perfectly content, went back to sleep
again.
They stayed in bed until mid-day, neither having the
inclination or energy to move. The spell
they'd woven together would be broken if either of
them stirred too much, and they were far too
content to do that. At least they were until nature
called. Reluctantly they fell out of bed and
staggered to the bathroom to relieve themselves and
clean up, preparing to greet the day, even at
this late hour.


Chapter Sixteen.

Billy began to spend more and more time with Tom, even
getting to the stage where he would let
himself into the house when Tom was out, and watching
tv or tidying up until he returned. Week-
ends had become sacrosanct to them both; from Friday
evening until Sunday afternoon they were
father and son, doing everything together and sharing
the domestic chores. They had their
disagreements of course, usually about Billy's
schoolwork or behaviour but on the whole things
were pretty good. Even his mother had calmed down
somewhat, firstly because Billy was so
rarely there, and secondly because she now had a
regular man in her life who had to all intents and
purposes moved in. He and Billy took an instant
dislike to each other, the man seeing Billy as
some sort of threat to his comfortable relationship,
and Billy because he was just as much of a
drunk as his mother and father. On more than one
occasion they'd come to blows, more often than
not about Billy 'being in the fucking way' all the
time. Billy didn't give a shit; after all it was his
home, not the boyfriends, and in any case he'd always
got another, better one to go to whenever
things got too bad.

It was after one of these fights when Billy was sat on
his bed, hugging his knees to his chest and
waiting for his temper to die down when he remembered
a promise he'd made to himself over a
year ago. Independence. And leaving home. In a
blinding flash, he saw the solution. It might take
a while, and involve some risk to himself, but it
would be worth it at the end of the day. Now fired
up with ambition, he dug out the diary he'd started
when his mother beat him so long ago. He'd
added one or two things since then, mostly when he was
pissed off with his mother about
something or other, but not really a great deal of
what he thought of as abuse; being sworn at and
the occasional slap were a normal part of life and
weren't worth writing down. Unfortunately no
one had told him about emotional abuse, which was a
pity, but there was something else he
remembered from somewhere or other, something he would
investigate with Tom.
The following day he dragged Tom to the school library
during the lunch-break to help him check
it out. He was right in what he thought, he discovered
much to his delight. Once a child was 14,
he could move out of his home and live where he liked,
provided that the parents agreed and the
child was in a safe environment. What was even more
important was that the school or social
services people needn't to be told unless there was a
problem, which in his case there wouldn't be.
Tom knew better than to ask what he'd got in mind,
he'd be told when Billy was good and ready
and not before. In fact, if he'd guessed rightly then
he'd rather not know just yet, the boy was old
enough and bright enough to know what he was doing. He
allowed himself to worry about it
though: he was up to something and it most certainly
involved him, and after helping Billy wade
through the legal bits, had a fair idea what it was.

Billy worked out that he had about three months before
his 14th birthday, and in that time he had
things to do, things to plan and things to prepare
for. The first thing he did was to put his diary
and a pen handy; he'd be needing those.

The first opportunity he had came about a week later.
He'd got up to go to school as usual and
couldn't find the shirt which he'd laid out the night
before. Finding another one, his last clean one,
he put it on and went through to the living room for
breakfast. And there was Brian, the
boyfriend, wearing Billy's white shirt. Billy looked
at him, feeling his temper rise.
"That's my shirt." he said simply. "Why've you got it
on?"
"Because I'm going out somewhere, not that it's got
fuck all to do with you," Brian smirked.
"But it's my school shirt, I bought it."

"So?"

Billy calmed himself down, he had to be careful.
Waiting for his mother to put an appearance in,
he said "Mum, that man's wearing my shirt. Can you ask
him for it back, please?"
The reply was short, sharp and simple. "Piss off. He
needs it."
Billy stood up, looked Brian straight in the eye and
slowly poured the remains of his cup of tea
down the front of his shirt.

"You want it, you can have it. I don't think I'd want
to wear it again anyway." he said, a great deal
more calmly than he felt. Maintaining his poise, he
walked slowly to the front door and went out,
expecting any second to be attacked from behind.

Although seriously annoyed about the loss of one of
his few good shirts, he considered it
worthwhile if it pissed those two off as much as he
thought it would. He smiled to himself as he
ambled to school: the battle had commenced.

Gradually over the next few weeks he raised the
stakes. On each and every occasion he felt
slighted or aggrieved in some way, he made a scene.
When Brian helped himself to Billy's dinner
one day there was a fight. When his mother hadn't
bothered to do his washing there was a fight,
when they were both rolling drunk there was a fight.
He even stayed home overnight more than
he needed to, just to annoy them. OK, the downside was
that he got beaten once in a while, but
even that he put to his advantage, ensuring he took
photographs of the marks and bruises. Each
and every event was carefully logged in his diary.

As he expected, the atmosphere in the house became
tense and fraught, everyone walking on
eggshells all the time. Both his mother and Brian got
short-tempered and less tolerant of Billy,
thus inadvertently helping him in his campaign. At the
end of term, just before the holidays Billy
decided it was time to act. The perfect opportunity
arose when he came home from school one
day to find Brian asleep on his bed, his mother
sleeping on hers, both the worse for drink.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Billy yelled, stirring
the man to a dozy wakefulness. "This's my
fucking bed!"

Brian turned over and stared at Billy - he was in no
mood to be messed about with. He had a
splitting headache, felt dizzy and had been thrown out
of his own bedroom because he was
snoring. And to cap it all, the runt had turned up.

The boy stood his ground, watching as Brian struggled
to his feet, his anger rising by the second.
"Fuck off, I wanna sleep." Brian said, trying to get
his brain to work.
"No. This's my room. You piss off out of it."

Brian took a step towards Billy and slapped him across
the face. He hardly flinched; he was
expecting something like that and was quite ready for
it. Standing his ground, he clenched his
fists, hit Brian twice as hard as he could in the
stomach. Within seconds they were rolling around
the bedroom floor fighting and screaming at each
other.  It didn't take long for Billy's mother to
come running into the room to see what was happening,
and with some difficulty managed to stop
them from killing each other, pushing Billy off and
kicking him on the head in the process.
"Get out!" she screamed, "Fucking get out!"

Billy ached and hurt all over and was still angry, but
managed to stay in control of himself. He
went to the living room and sat down at the table,
waiting for them to sort themselves out and
join him.

There was a strained silence as they stared at each
other, breathing heavily and slowly calming
down. Everyone was aware that this was a much more
serious situation now than just another
fight: things had come to a head and needed to be
sorted out.
"I hate it here," Billy started. "I wish I didn't live
here, it's fucking awful. I haven't even got my
own room anymore because of him." He glared at Brian,
hung his head and started to cry.
Billy's mother looked from one to the other,
struggling to make her mind up. The boy had become
a fucking nuisance over the past few months,
complaining about everything and picking fights all
the time: why couldn't he just leave her and Brian
alone and piss off somewhere out of her life.
The more she thought about it, the better she thought
it would be for them all. Billy was old
enough and big enough to look after himself now, but
where could he go? Gradually she realised
that there was an answer - that teacher-man he spent
so much time with, he could fucking have
him, he spent more time there than he did at home
anyway so he might just as well bloody well
live there.

Billy watched his mother's face: he knew her well
enough to know exactly what she was thinking:
this is just what he'd been building up to all the
past weeks; all he had to do now was sow the
right seeds.

"I'm going to Mr Brown's," he said slowly, getting to
his feet, making sure they both saw how
much pain he was in. "I'll stay there tonight. Fuck
you all."
"Fuck off then, and you needn't bother coming back,"
his mother said flatly.
This was precisely what Billy wanted to hear, had
wanted her to say it for months, but now she'd
actually said it out loud, he was shocked. His own
mother had effectively disowned him in favour
of a drunken arsehole. He started to cry, seriously
now, all acting and pretence gone. She'd
actually told him she didn't want him anymore and it'd
hurt him a damn sight more than he thought
it would. Despite all the physical and emotional abuse
he'd suffered from her, he felt deep down
that she still loved him a little, but now, having
heard the words, he was desolate.
Very slowly he got to his feet, staring at her sadly.
Just for that moment he thought he would
change his mind and stay, but after only a seconds
pause he knew things would never change and
would only get worse. Pulling his jacket on, he left
the house, closing the door quietly behind him,
aware that he was burning a big bridge in so doing. He
felt in his pocket, checking that his diary
was there, that bloody record of his bloody life - he
almost hated it for what it was and what it
represented

Tears were still running down his cheeks when he got
to Tom's, and for once he rang the bell and
waited for Tom to come and open the door for him, it
occurring to him for the first time that
perhaps Tom didn't want him living there, couldn't or
wouldn't give him a home.
Tom knew before he got to the front door who it was,
he'd been expecting Billy round today
anyway, but the sight of him through the glass,
slumped against the door told him there was
something seriously wrong.

He saw straightaway that he'd been crying and there
were fresh marks on his face from another
fight with Brian or his mother. Putting an arm round
him, he took Billy to the living room, sat him
down and went to make a cup of tea whilst he thought.
He was convinced by now that Billy had
been engineering a move into his house, a permanent
one and Tom had given it a great deal of
thought in recent weeks, ever since that day in the
library in fact. He'd done his own research,
talking to some social worker friends to confirm
Billy's findings: he was right, there would be no
serious problem about him coming to live there, but
did he really want it? It would mean a major
shake-up in his life and create quite a few problems
for him, but there was the plus side in that he
would be able to give Billy a much better quality life
than he'd had up until now, and more than
that, he would actually enjoy having Billy around all
the time to love and take care of., even
ignoring the sexual side of their relationship. He
always came down on the side of taking him in
should the situation ever arise, but the prospect
scared the shit out of him.
They lay together in silence, each with their own
thoughts, Billy eventually dropping off into a
fitful doze, the events of the past couple of hours
taking their toll.
An hour later he woke up, glanced into Tom's face and
cuddled up closer to him, resting his head
on his chest.

"I've left home," he whispered, not daring to look at
him now. "I've been thrown out."
Tom squeezed him gently, but said nothing, letting
their closeness say all that was necessary.
"What happened?" he said after a while.

Billy lifted his shirt to show the latest set of
marks. "Shit!" Tom whispered. "Again?"
In reply, Billy handed Tom his diary, now almost full.
Tom read it carefully, taking in every word
and matching them to the horrendous pictures of a
bruised and battered youngster. He went
coldly angry as he compared the written words with the
beautiful, handsome, young man nestled
against him. How the hell could anyone, ...... He
pushed these thoughts out of his mind, they'd
been there too often to be news, and were too
distressing to look at anyway. Of one thing he was
now convinced - the lad could not and would not be
going back there, no matter what.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed Billy upright and put
his arm over his shoulder. "Come on," he
said, "Let's sort this out."

They spoke together for the best part of an hour, Tom
telling Billy that he was more than
welcome to come and live with him if things were that
bad, but he had to be certain that was what
he wanted - he couldn't change his mind once the
decision had been made, there was too much at
stake. Billy always thought he would be deliriously
happy when the offer to live here was made
and he was surprised to feel that he wasn't. It was a
strange feeling, being offered a new home and
he took some time to think about it more seriously
than he'd ever done before, but at the end of
the day there was no other answer.

"Yes. I'd like to live here with you, if you'll have
me." he said quietly.
Tom kissed him on the forehead and hugged him. The
decision had been made and he felt
somehow relieved. At least they knew where they stood
now, for better or for worse.
Half an hour later, they were knocking once more on
Mrs Kirkpatrick's door. It was opened by
Brian who let them both in without saying a word,
leading the way to the living room.
They all sat round the table looking at each other
until Tom said, "I understand there's been a
problem with Billy."

"Yeah, he's got impossible to live with, he's a ...."
Billy's mother stopped, re-phrasing what she
was about to add, and said, "we just don't get on
together."
Tom ignored the 'we' bit, not wanting to know whether
it included Brian or not - he assumed it
did.

"Yes, I'd heard about that. Have you seen this?" He
made a show of drawing the diary from his
pocket and put it on the table, spreading the pictures
out for all to see. Billy's mother gasped in
astonishment at the evidence before her and turned
bright red. Brian picked one of the
photographs up, looked sideways at Billy and said,
"Bastard!" just loud enough for everyone to
hear.

"Yes, well. That doesn't help things does it?" he said
menacingly at Brian. "Perhaps that's part of
the problem."

Once more there was a very strained silence, everyone
realising that they were now completely in
Tom's hands, and he was a very powerful and angry man.

"How anyone could treat a child this way is beyond
me," he said waving his hands over the
pictures and their squalid surroundings.

There was another long pause.

"Well. As there doesn't seem to be anywhere else Billy
can go, I guess he can come and stay with
me." Tom said, "But it's a pity it had to come to
this," he added, looking between the three of
them. He let his comment sink in before continuing,
"If that's what you and Billy want, then I
agree." He pointedly stared at Brian, daring him to
say anything.
"All I need is written confirmation from you that you
are allowing Billy to come and stay with me,
that you know where he is, and that Billy agrees."

She nodded, still staring in disbelief at the
pictures.

"And I'll keep these in a safe place." Tom said,
sweeping them up and replacing them in his
pocket.

Billy produced some paper and a pen and watched as Tom
wrote the letter out, twice. Mrs
Kirkpatrick, Tom and Billy signed both copies, and Tom
carefully put his copy with the diary.
Everyone stood up, glad the unpleasantness was over
and just wanting to go their own ways as
soon as possible. Tom followed Billy to the door, and
just as they were about to leave turned to
Billy's mother and said, "Do you even know where I
live?"

She shook her head, a beaten and cowed woman.

"No, I didn't think so. Says a lot, don't you think?"
He wrote the address and telephone number
down on the letter and left, pushing Billy in front of
him.
Once back in the car, Tom grasped the steering wheel
with both hands, stared out at the road in
front of him and heaved an enormous sigh of relief.

"Glad that's over. That was awful," he said to himself
as much as to Billy.
"Yeah." was all Billy could manage, still in a state
of shock with the speed and seeming ease he'd
left one home and moved into another.

Back at the house they stood in the kitchen leaning on
the work-tops as they had a much-needed
cup of tea and came to terms with their new
relationship.

"Come on, we need cheering up," Tom said at last,
"Let's go out."
For the remainder of the day they just drove around,
mostly in silence, looking at the scenery,
trying to forget the unpleasantness of the morning and
simply enjoying each other's company.
When they eventually returned home, there was a black
rubbish bag on the doorstep, which, when
opened revealed the residue of Billy's things from
home: old clothes, school things and a
miscellany of odds and ends from his bedroom, the
whole of his young life in a rubbish bag. They
didn't waste much time Tom thought, but wisely kept
quiet.
Billy emptied the sack on the living room floor,
staring at the mess with Tom. Putting his school
things and few personal odds and ends in one pile, he
stuffed his old clothes back in the bag. Then
he went upstairs, changed into his 'best clothes', put
the one's he'd just taken off with the
remainder of his old 'home' clothes from the wardrobe
and jammed them in the bag with the rest.
Giving Tom a defiant stare, he picked up a lighter
from the kitchen, went through the patio
windows into the garden, dropped the bag in the
barbeque pit and set fire to it
Tom, watching all this silently, joined Billy outside
and stared at the flames consuming Billy's past.

"Fuck it!" he said to the world in general, swearing
for the last time in Tom's presence as the
flames died down. "That's it! All I want now is a
shower."
They slept together that night, a sounder and more
restful sleep than they'd ever had together. Sex
wasn't on the agenda, just the comfort and company of
a father and son naked in bed together,
bonding as only they could.

Tom informed his Headmaster of the new situation just
as soon as school re-started after the
holidays, informing him of Billy's change of address
and guardianship at the same time. Much to
Tom's surprise, the Head accepted the change almost
without comment, saying only that he was
glad that Billy had managed to find a better home than
the one he had, and perhaps now would
settle down and be encouraged to use the brains he
undoubtedly had.
There was a good deal of talk among the boys of
course, but Billy sweated it through without
problem. Thankfully, no one even suspected that their
relationship was anything other than the
platonic one of father and son, indeed some boys were
even jealous of Billy's sudden improvement
in lifestyle.

The only person who showed any real interest in Billy
fortunes was Kim, who still remained one
of his best friends, he even came to his new home once
in a while to play with him and generally
hang out. Billy though, kept him at arms length in
some ways. Although they were the best of
buddies, Billy was aware that Kim had earned a certain
reputation at school, one which wasn't
doing him any good at all. Ever since their own sexual
exploits had dwindled down to zero, Billy
had noticed Kim was getting involved with a few other
boys with similar reputations and was
obviously 'having fun' with them whenever and wherever
he could, causing more than a few
obscene comments. The dragon which Billy had aroused
in Kim was not going to lay down easily.

Tom mentioned Kim's behaviour to Billy one day, not to
criticise in any way, just to make sure
that Billy knew. Billy told him about their earlier
experiments together, and also a bit about Kim's
puritanical parents. He also went on to say that he
felt sorry for Kim in some ways: Billy and Tom
had each other to love and have fun with, Kim had no
one.
The last chapter in Billy's old life ended when he
discovered through neighbours that his mother
and Brian had left the house and moved out of the
area, no one knew where. For Billy it meant his
old life was well and truly finished, and for Tom it
meant he had the most handsome and sexiest
young man in the world for a son. Life couldn't be
better.

The End.