Date: Mon, 18 Feb 2013 23:26:21 +0100
From: MICHAEL SOROS <bursa1994@gmx.com>
Subject: Breda's Little Helper Part 3

This story is a work of fiction. None of these people ever existed to the
best of my knowledge and the place will be found on no map. If it is
illegal to read such material in your jurisdiction then move on. If not
then enter the world of Breda and Paddy McGinty whom fate has thrown
together for their mutual benefit. I hope you enjoy it. Please try to make
a donation to Nifty to keep this service free from advertisements. Nothing
is really free. Every little helps.



It was with undue haste that Brendan nudged the boy forward out the door,
round the corner of the building and towards the toilet around the back. He
let the boy walk in front of him a few yards so he could take in the view
of the boy's beautiful round bum filling out those little white shorts. He
was rock hard now and quite uncomfortable as he was unable to rearrange his
cock without being too obvious. Suits really weren't designed for holding
erections in place and the view of such a tight pair of shorts stuffed with
a beautiful footballer's bottom at such close range was too much. The boy
looked over his shoulder every few steps to see if the attractive man was
still following him. He seemed just as anxious, although he wasn't quite
sure what he was anxious for. The smell of the petrol on his battered old
second-hand trainers didn't bother him much but he really wanted to go with
the man.  He finally came to the door of the toilet building and felt the
man press up against him as he moved him aside just a little bit to put the
key in the lock. Opening the door quickly he carefully nudged little Paddy
McGinty into the hallway and over to the other door. He unlocked that one
too and closed it behind it.

       Paddy had never seen the toilet because he had used the one in the
shop which the bar customers used.  Used rather carelessly judging by the
smell of old beer, piss and whiskey. This one smelled quite neutral and he
got the impression that it was rarely used. In fact he was right. It was
indeed rarely used for its original purpose. But it had been more than used
for acts 'contrary to nature' if you were to believe the local newspaper
reports. The problem with the story getting out about the passing farmers
and small truck drivers was that the volume of the curious increased no end
and Breda was really annoyed as she was obliged to lock it. She had no
choice. She never really went into it as it was not the place of a lady to
hover around gents toilets so it looked like the last day of the Marie
Celeste when Paddy and Brendan McIllhattan first cast eyes on it. Brendan
knew all about what went on here for the best part of a year but he
couldn't join in because he was too well known and only lived up the road.
There were three cubicles on the right hand side and several urinals to the
left. Where they were standing now was a decent empty space with two
sinks. It surprised him that it was so well preserved and clean.

       He put his hand on the boys shoulder and told him to wait there
while he went down to have a look in the cubicles. They were empty of
course. Except for the walls. They were full. Full of messages and notices
to meet.
       Having confirmed that they were empty - and they could hardly be
otherwise - he walked over to one of the urinals from which he had a
perfect view of the red headed boy who had started all this madness. He was
always so careful and reserved. His reputation was so important to him but
now he really didn't care at all. He unzipped and pulled his substantial
cock from his underwear and just stood there looking at the boy. Breda's
little helper wasn't in the least bit phased. He was leaning against the
wall, one leg lifted up and flat on the wall. He had his right hand up his
tee shirt and he seemed to be rubbing round his stomach causing the
material to ride up and down as he swirled it round and round. The other
hand he was running through his flaming red hair. Brendan could see no hair
under his arms which made his cock leap harder. Paddy was just looking at
the man's cock. He was intrigued. It was the first one he had really ever
seen. Well the first man's cock he had ever seen. It looked really
interesting to him but it was still a bit far away. Should he walk over and
have a closer look? The man was just standing there moving his hand slowly
up and down this growing piece of attractive man meat and Paddy just
thought that he'd never be able to piss through that if that was his
intention. But maybe that wasn't his intention. Then the penny dropped!  He
was showing it to him. He had to be. What a dope! What should he do? As it
turned out, he didn't have to do anything.

"Must be the petrol fumes" he said looking directly at Paddy. "I'll never
empty my bladder like this. Maybe I'll just wait a while for it to go
down."

       He took his hands off it, pushed his arms in the air as though just
about to stretch and made sure his jacket moved back so the boy could get a
full view of what he had on offer. It was a fair size too. Nothing
enormous.  Nothing anyone ever had to complain about but it was a nice
handful. Thick rather than long with the head covered with foreskin which
had moved back half way. All in all he was proud of it. It had never let
him down. Always obliged and was always ready. His balls, which were still
firmly inside his trousers and couldn't be seen, were large and heavy. They
didn't hang low but filled a large soft sack between his legs and each ball
could be clearly seen. They were excellent cum producers too. He'd been
masturbating for the last 30 years or so and couldn't remember a time when
they had failed to produce. He was sure they produced quite a large amount
but he always wanked twice a day -or more if there was an attractive
labourer on the farm milking team- so they never really had a chance to
build up an cum for a day or two. But now they were hurting him somewhat as
his cock was rock hard and pulling them up towards the zipper but they
couldn't get out. Brendan thought better of pulling them out so the boy
could see the full package. It might scare him off. He really wasn't sure
how to proceed as nearly all his sexual encounters were with men or
teenagers a bit older than the one in front of him and certainly a lot more
streetwise than Paddy McGinty. Maybe instinct would just kick in. He wasn't
sure.

       Although Paddy wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed he knew this
wasn't a normal situation. He had tried for the last two years or so to get
himself groped by a teacher or any man that looked anyway attractive. It
was the main reason he had joined the soccer club and kept his clothes few
and tight, but he was very unlucky. He didn't know why. He had lingered
long and hard around the teacher's desk in the primary school hoping to get
his bum felt up like some of the other boys but obviously he wasn't just
the teacher's type. He had even been nearly an altar boy as he heard that
there were sweets and money on offer from the local priest who was
satisfied with a grope and a feel of the boys' bums. He wasn't attractive
but it was a start. He had only been at the meeting where he was to be
shown the ropes when his mother walked into the sacristy in a mini up her
arse and smelling of whiskey looking for him. Once the priest realised that
the hot little red head was Magdalene McGinty's son he completely lost
interest.  He wanted to keep his balls where they were. So mysteriously
there were no openings for altar boys that day. This was as close as he had
ever come to realising all his masturbatory fantasies of being naked with
men. Any men really.  He had no experience so had to make do with men from
his mother's magazines or catalogues. Certainly not any of the real ones
she brought home. Even those desperate idiots used to push him out the door
with a comic rather than pull him into the bedroom so he had reached a lot
of dead ends in two years. He wasn't really sure but he did think that his
mother may have had something to do with it. She wasn't very protective of
him but everyone everywhere they moved to (or were moved on from), knew who
his mother was and had no intention of getting on the wrong side of her. A
sorry state of affairs. This was his first big chance but he didn't know
what to do. Should he just drop his shorts and undies? Didn't seem right in
front of such a gentleman like Mr McIllhattan even though he was flashing a
nice thick cock at him. It was still a gentleman's cock. What did he look
like naked? He looked so well built and tall and everything he wanted in a
man that he just felt like running over and grabbing hold of the man around
the waist and kissing his cock. He didn't of course but thought heavily
about it while unknowingly suggestively showing the now tormented man his
smooth white hard stomach.

       Brendan knew that they wouldn't have too much time before suspicions
would be roused as to what was going on in the toilet. Breda he didn't mind
too much. She was practically a collaborator and he was sure she knew what
was in his 'photography' magazines but she knew which side her bread was
buttered on and would never say anything. He was convinced that she
actually liked him in as much as she liked anyone. Still, he didn't want to
push things and he didn't know what her little helper meant to
her. Possibly nothing.  Possibly a great deal. So he had to move quickly
and with sure purpose. He popped his still rock hard piece of meat back
into his voluminous trousers and saw Paddy's head move ever so slightly to
the left following it. Little bugger! He left the zip open though and
walked quickly over to the boy and knelt in front of him taking out his
crisp white hanky. Paddy dropped his foot from the wall behind him. His
intention was to put one hand on the boy's right ankle and start wiping the
left trainer to remove as much of the petrol as he could. By rights the
shoes should be just thrown in a bin they were that unfit for purpose. The
smell from the insoles was as strong as the petrol. But as soon as he got
down on one knee as though he were about to propose to the boy his
unconscious desire for the boy surfaced and ran riot over his ordered
prudent self-assured self. He found that he had grabbed the boy's knee with
one hand and started dabbing the shoe with the other. Paddy never
moved. Brendan was directly facing this fourteen year old's crotch. He
could clearly see his erect penis standing straight up and tucked into the
elastic of his shorts. He was totally smooth from the elastic of the shorts
up to his belly button but he could make out the tip of the penis coming
over the elastic. It looked like he had a well-covered foreskin. It would
take nothing for him just to lean forward and feel the hard cock of the boy
against his mouth and his cheek. He really wanted to press and press
against it, pushing him against the wall behind him and run his face up and
down that lovely little cock until the cum squired out and slowly ran down
his shorts where he would be able to put his tongue out and pull it into
his mouth. But he couldn't do it. He just couldn't bring himself to do it.

       Instead he wrapped his large rugby playing hand around the boy's leg
at the knee and held it there. As there was no reaction he started to move
it around in congress with the rubbing he was giving the boy's foot. Rub
rub rub on the shoe. Rub rub rub on the back of the boy's lovely smooth
leg. Was it even possible to be so smooth? This must be what a woman's skin
must feel like - but not for long judging by the amount of razors and hair
removal creams they had to use to get it like this boy's. With each rub
Brendan moved his hand further up the boy's thigh. Up and down. Up further
and down. Up a little further and down to the knee again. He couldn't
remember the last time he had been so sexually excited and his cock was as
hard as nails. As the boy was making no adverse sounds but in fact moving
his legs apart very slowly, Brendan continued up the back of the boy's
thigh to where it met the bottom of the shorts and the beginning of his
spectacular bottom. When he reached that point he looked up at the boy
almost looking for permission to continue. Even from down here he looked
absolutely gorgeous but he wasn't looking down at Brendan at all. He was
looking at the ceiling and seemed to have his eyes closed. As soon as
Brendan's hand had stopped softly caressing the smooth boy's thigh he
seemed to come out of his reverie and turned to look down at him. There was
no distress in that face. Nothing but pleasure showed on that open freckled
countenance. And then the big one! A bit toothy smile!  He didn't say
anything but turned his head back up to look at the ceiling again. Brendan
had just got his green light and he was off!

       He stopped any pretence of trying to clean up a dirty shoe and got
down on both knees placing the free hand inside the boy's thigh and started
to rub it against the super soft skin. Paddy had very well developed thighs
from all his footballing - a bit like Brendan's actually from all his rugby
playing days. But these were soft on the outside but defined and hard
underneath. He placed both his hands on the inside of Paddy's thighs and
slowly moved up and down, up and down. He went further up on each stroke
until his index fingers were now touching the boy's balls wrapped in his
little undies. He put his fingers out and started to feel around and see
what the fourteen year old had to offer. Not bad really. They seemed big
enough but what were they able to produce? Anything? How was he going to
find that out? His two fingers now moved around the boy's balls and down to
where the elastic went in between the ball sac and the beginning of his
thighs. He knew from experience that this was a very sensitive place and if
the person was vulnerable in that area he could bring him to ecstasy very
easily with his much practiced tongue. He put both of his index fingers
into the briefs at the same time pulling them down to allow the red head's
balls to drop. Slowly he caressed them. They were lovely - average he
supposed for a boy his age and totally hairless from what he could feel. If
there were any hair there it must be super soft because he could feel
nothing.
       Brendan was not a man used to being on a hard floor on his knees and
he was finding that it wasn't particularly enjoyable to his joints ; God
knows how male prostitutes got by. He released his fingers gently from the
boy's underpants, pulling them down a little inside his shorts. Without
removing the shorts he pulled the undies down completely so that they were
below Paddy's balls and he could feel the soft cotton of the shorts on the
skin of this bottom. He had never gone without underwear before because of
his erections but it did feel erotic. Brendan was towering over him now but
not in a threatening way. More protective. He was a man who had just
discovered something but really wasn't sure what it was. He still hadn't
seen the boy's penis yet but knew that there was only a thin pair of shorts
between it and his fingers but he was conscious of the time passing and
that time hadn't stopped outside on the forecourt as it had in the
toilet. Plenty of people coming and going from church would be calling in
for their newspapers and petrol and Breda would be wondering where her
little apprentice had got to. Speed was of the essence.
       "Turn around for me Paddy and put your hands flat on the wall"
whispered Brendan.

       Paddy did as he was told but found having his undies pulled down
below his shorts just that bit strange and restricting that he wasn't as
quick or as smooth as he wanted to be. He put his palms against the wall as
requested and then felt the man's breath in his left ear as he stood beside
him. With his right hand he felt the boy's lovely round bum through the
sheer material. Each bum cheek filled one hand perfectly. He moved his hand
round and round the boy's bum getting hornier and hornier as he did so, so
that he was getting rougher and rougher without realising it. Finally he
took hold of the waistband of the shorts and pulled them up sharply so that
he could see the bottom of the boy's cheeks and the undies peeping out the
bottom of the legs. It was a great view but it couldn't last. They could
hear cars coming into the forecourt and parking. Breda's shop doorbell had
started to ring with customers going in and out. Someone was going to want
to buy petrol. And where was Paddy McGinty? Standing in a toilet with a 6
foot 2 inch man standing beside him feeling his lovely round footballer's
arse with one hand and running his other hand through this exploding
armchair of hair on his head.
       "Paddy McGinty you young cur! Get yourself out of there and back to
work! I'm not paying idlers to stand around in toilets all day doing bugger
all and there's customers to be looked after. Come out here now!"

       It was of course the sweet dulcet tones of Breda McGovern who found
herself in the middle of the Sunday morning rush with no one to help. She
thought they had been gone a bit too long. Looking through the window she
could see Mr McIllhattan's car gracing her forecourt. It was actually
blocking access to the one pump but she didn't mind as it gave her an
excuse to tell everyone that:
       "Mr McIllhattan, one of my very regular customers is just helping my
apprentice clean his shoes. Had a bit of an accident earlier on. Always
shops here you know. Has done for decades. Knows when he's getting quality
service."

       She'd purse her lips at this stage, pull her cardigan across her
bosom and put her shoulders back. Mind you it was getting a bit ridiculous
now. There were three cars waiting and a few customers inside. She was just
filling her ample lungs which had years of filling a voice box with air to
shout obscenities at staff she thought were idling when she heard the door
of the toilet bang shut and the little red head run down the side path
towards her. No one being around and Mr McIllhattan still inside she took a
very practiced swipe across the back of his head. The world of child
rearing practices had yet to reach Ballykillferrit so the fall back for
encouraging children or errant boys was a swift sharp whack across the back
of the head or a bang of a belt across the arse. Worked wonders! The fact
that the boy didn't actually belong to her didn't bother Breda. She felt
responsible for him when he was in her care and felt it her duty to beat
him out of love or she'd be out of pocket. He was too short to resist.

       "Now get out and fill those cars and stop dodging" she said pulling
him by the ear until they got to the corner of the building and into the
public eye.  She promptly let him go and a smile immediately filled out her
face.

       Two of her regulars were standing outside the door of the shop
waiting and using the few minutes to call into question Breda's choice of
help.  They wouldn't say anything to her except maybe that she was 'very
brave' to take on any of the McGinty's offspring.
       "It's because I care girls" she replied. "I'm just too simple
hearted to pass up the opportunity to help someone in need of a hand."

       None of the 'girls' in question was under 70 but old habits die
hard.
       Paddy couldn't feel his ear from having it nearly yanked out of its
socket by Breda and he could still hear a loud high pitched sound from the
whack she gave to the back of his head. He scratched the back of his head
and made for the petrol pump where a battered old car was waiting to be
filled. He'd have to wait a bit longer because Brendan's car was blocking
the pump and it wasn't long enough to stretch too far. Was that only a
minute ago he was in a little piece of heaven? He soon forgot the ringing
in his ears when he remembered what had happened just as soon as they heard
an almighty roar from Breda.
       "Quick, pull your underpants up and make yourself respectable
looking" said Brendan adjusting his own zipper and suit.

       Paddy pushed himself away from the wall, put his hands down his
shorts and pulled up his tight little undies.  He pulled his tee shirt down
as far as he could and tried to make it reach the elastic of his shorts. He
quickly tucked his cock into the elastic of the waistband and stood looking
into the beautiful eyes of the most handsome man he had ever seen. In
reality of course his experience of handsome men was very limited and based
on what his mother dragged home but still - he was handsome. He could tell
even Breda thought so. The man bent down towards him, looked him in the
face and said quietly:

       "Listen sweetie. Just do as I say. Tell Breda you'll help her out
tonight if she needs it. I'll do the rest. And something special I want
from you too. Tease me tonight. Do you understand? What do I want you to
do?"

       Paddy wasn't sure what he was hearing. Help Breda tonight? He'd been
here since 7 this morning. What could he do at night? And 'tease me' - what
did that mean?
       "Can you do that for me honey?" said Brendan turning his head to one
side and smiling sweetly at the boy. It was a smile that Paddy would do
anything to see again. He must be coming to the bar part of the shop
tonight. Tease him? How could he do that? And then he thought of his
mother. Tease him? No better boy.
       "No problem Mr McIllhattan" replied Paddy turning to go out of the
toilet.
       He turned his head back quickly while grabbing the door handle and
said:
       "Sure aren't you just the most handsomest man I've ever seen Mr
McIllhattan. I'll be here for you".
       His English wasn't the most sophisticated but he was certainly a
summer's day to Brendan. Now he had to arrange for tonight. He was too
horny to think of anything else. He took out his car keys and moved his car
over, under the watchful gaze of Breda's two mates. Getting out, he gave a
glance in Paddy's direction and smiled. He nodded to the 'girls' waiting
outside the shop and went in. After the sun outside on the forecourt it
took a minute or so for his eyes to readjust to the gloom. Sure enough the
place was a hive of activity in as much as pensioners are ever active. He
had a plan and as accommodating as he normally was he was not going to be
thwarted on this one.  There was too much riding on it because all his
Christmases had come at once this morning. He sat down on a stool around
the bar opposite Breda and stared at her with a stern determined face - so
unlike his gentle composed look.  Breda knew there was something up and cut
her conversation short. She was learning nothing anyway. Same old
nonsense. She'd learn more listening in on her customer's conversations on
the payphone than she would from this lot.

       "Well you'll have to be going now girls. I've a lot on. People to
see. Things to do. I'm not like you lot - resting on me pension beside a
fire watching black and white films on TV. Some of us have to work!
Business is waiting!"  and she nodded across the room to Brendan
McIllhattan sitting there. He didn't smile. He didn't want to encourage
them.  They were no sooner out the door when he walked directly over to
Breda who hadn't moved from her stool.

       "And who rattled your cage this morning Brendan McIllhattan? You
look like someone's taken your lollipop away!"
       "How well do you know that boy out there?" he said lightening
up. Breda had a swinging brick for a heart and he wouldn't get anywhere
being angry. You get more bears with honey than vinegar.
       "Well I know his mother is a whore. Always was. Comes from a bad
family going back generations. She's a drinker and is more on her back than
her feet. I doubt very much that she's too pushed about having him
about. He never mentioned her once anyway. Or school. He'll not be heart
surgeon material either. Dumb as an ox I'd say but good hearted and
willing. Easy going enough. Why?"
       "I was trying to clean the petrol off his shoes and - well - to be
honest with you Miss McGovern they should be just thrown in a bin. It was
only the dirt holding them together. That tee shirt is supposed to be white
not grey. I get the impression he's been quite neglected. He could do with
putting on a bit of weight too."
       "Sure you could say that about half the kids in Ballykillferrit. If
you give them a toffee they nearly take the hand off you as well."
       "Maybe, but growing up here there and everywhere without a father
can't have been easy on him."
       "Seems to have done well enough anyway. No better nor worse than any
of the rest of them around here."
       Breda had come to the same conclusion herself but was unwilling to
concede on anything remotely concerning children to a bachelor. She knew
more about raising cabbages than kids but she had her maternal instincts -
even if well hidden.

       "Well it distresses me to see the boy cast adrift. Left to his own
devices he could get into some serious trouble Breda."
       Trouble?  Him? He could barely get in the door without effort.
       "I have some clothes at the rugby club that I think would fit
him. Shoes, shorts, trousers that sort of thing.  Couldn't be any worse
than what he's wearing now. It would raise the tone of the shop if he were
a bit more presentable out front for the summer don't you think?"

       Breda puckered her lips. She had to agree. He couldn't look much
worse and it would cost her nothing. It was nice he was taking a bit of an
interest in the boy. More than she would anyway but then she was carrying
the weight of a business on her delicate female shoulders. She didn't have
time for strays as harmless as they were.

       "I'll be down tonight with one or two of the casual labourers after
the evening milking. Just for a few bottles.  I'll bring the stuff down for
him when we come. Will you keep him here for me? Will he be working in the
evenings?"
       Being naturally suspicious of generosity by nature, Breda felt there
was something she was missing in all this.  She'd have to reflect on it
later. She had no intention of keeping him here beyond five o clock as he'd
been here since seven. And she had to pay him too - or rather his
mother. That was clear from the start. She was due down at five to collect
his pitiful earnings. Paddy was allowed to keep any tips he earned but most
of the farmers around here were as tight as duck's arses - water tight - so
there wouldn't be big celebrations in the McGinty household tonight.
Doubtless the mother would squander the money straight away in the town at
some pub so it was no big effort for her to keep him in the shop til
Brendan arrived. It'd be nice to see him in the evening again anyway. He
used to come down every Sunday evening but she hadn't seen him for years so
she owed Paddy McGinty something for at least causing that.
       "Ah he can help me at the bar tonight then so - move a few crates,
wash a glass. But I'm not paying him. I could do all that myself. And I'll
have to feed him too remember that."

       She had just remembered a tin of sardines she had under the
counter. She had charged one of her customers for it and didn't put it in
the bag. He could have that for dinner.
       "Good woman yourself Miss McGovern. An angel in wolf's clothes! Just
keep him busy and I'll bring the clothes. I'll see you this evening then
so."
       He was making for the door when Breda called him back and reminded
him that he had forgotten the box of groceries for his mother, his papers
and his photography magazines. Rather distractedly he paid - paid too much
actually and left the shop singing.
       "Very odd man that" said Breda to herself. "Nothing as queer as folk
they say."
       From the window, she could see Paddy filling up a passing car. He
was laughing and joking with the driver.  The shorts were a bit indecent
she supposed and the tee shirt could do with changing. Maybe Brendan had a
point.  She'd keep him in the shop until the labourers came down after
milking. He might be useful. She had œ2 put aside for his two days
work. His mother wouldn't get a penny more and she knew she'd have to have
a row with her about it.  Her bait would be that he could keep the tips he
got from the men tonight. She had no intention of paying him.  Alcohol had
a most loosening effect on men's wallets she'd found and no better woman
for separating drunks from their money than Breda had yet walked the
hallowed ground of Ballykillferrit.
       Brendan's cock was seriously aching when he parked the car in the
garage back at the farm. It was lunch time now and he had a few hours to
wait before he could back to see his new find. He'd invite the labourers
down for a drink on some pretext. They wouldn't normally go there on their
own as there were never any women.  He had plenty of clothes for the boy
alright but he didn't have to go to any rugby ground to get them. They were
here on the farm, securely hidden from his mother in his dark room in one
of the old outhouses he'd converted for the purpose years ago. They were
clothes he had 'come across' in his coaching days. Underwear, cricket
trousers, polo shirts and shorts. Lots of shorts and all would fit Paddy
McGinty. Because Brendan McIllhattan had a secret. He liked photography of
course. Everyone knew that. He'd been photographing for more than 20 years
yet most of his photographs had never been seen by anyone else. They were
private. Particular to him. He had spent most of his adult life
photographing young men. Young labouring men to be more accurate. Farm
hands, soldiers on leave, tradesmen, coalmen, corner boys, etc. He had
thousands of teenagers from the rugby and cricket clubs. He'd managed to
get himself selected as the unpaid photographer for the local newspaper so
he attended every match there was in and around Ballykillferrit. There
wasn't a blond or redheaded boy within 10 miles who hadn't ended up in one
of Brendan's photographs - some in compromising positions. He had a feeling
that Paddy McGinty, who never flinched one bit when Brendan's hands roamed
freely over his beautiful plump bottom would perhaps like to have his
photograph taken. He could earn a lot more with him than he ever would with
Breda. And so to his dark room to masturbate - as he so frequently did - to
pictures of young men and teenagers smiling at his camera.