Date: Mon, 27 Jun 2005 00:58:38 +0100 (BST)
From: John Venn <johnvenn1698@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Brian is Different - complete story

Disclaimer:

This story contains scenes of a sexual nature between
boys,teenagers and/or grown men. If this form of
fiction is not to your taste, is illegal where you
live, or offends your sensibilities 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!

The Story is also copyright and may not be posted to
any other site without the author's permission.

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


Brian is Different		(m/t, mast)
by
Alexander

Chapter One.

Greg sat at his desk and surveyed the twenty
13-year-old boys in front of him. It was the start of
a new year and although he recognised about two-thirds
of the boys from last year, there were a few new ones
in the group. He scanned their faces, trying to put
names and reputations to them.

Greg was a senior tutor in the school of about 400
boys, with special responsibility for the
`behaviourally challenged' members of their society.
It was a good job and Greg enjoyed it. He had a fair
amount of responsibility and authority, and what was
even better, the ability to more or less organise his
own workload outside of his light classroom duties.
Most of his time was taken up in managing the various
crisis the boys managed to get themselves into on a
daily basis in most cases.

He rarely had any problems with them himself, mainly
because he had the skill and ability to select work
which both interested and educated them, outside of
the normal school curriculum which these lads couldn't
cope with. They were also taught in smaller groups,
often even on a 1:1 basis when necessary. The result
was a sort of armed truce: he could make lives hellish
for those who chose to mess him about, quite pleasant
for those who co-operated and made some effort to
learn, no matter how slight.

One new boy in particular stood out. He was smaller
than the others, very blond, almost silvery hair, slim
build and scruffily dressed. The sort of boy he could
take to. He was, of course, a boylover. Not that
anyone knew or even suspected in school: he'd taken
great pains to avoid giving even the slightest hint
that he was anything other than a good teacher who did
his job well and took all the expected precautions
regarding getting himself into compromising
situations.

He could think though, and his cock stirred
momentarily at the innocent-looking cherub in front of
him. Mentally shaking his head to clear it, he started
the lesson. Well, not so much of a lesson as a
start-of-year welcoming gathering and a laying down of
the working parameters. The older boys who knew him
half-listened as he carried on. A few were talking
quietly among themselves, which Greg didn't mind too
much as they'd heard it all before and weren't causing
any disruption anyway.

Raising his voice slightly, he said, "One thing worth
bearing in mind, those of you who don't know me, is
this." He paused for effect and everyone looked at
him. "Life in this class can be good fun and
enjoyable. At least as far as it can be in school."
Again he paused for the one or two polite titters of
laughter. "But." he carried on, serious now, "But. If
anyone chooses to upset the routine they will take the
consequences. If you're stupid enough to make me
angry, or wind up your classmates, then you must be
prepared to take the consequences. Physical, or
otherwise." He stopped to let this sink in.

One new boy, obviously the budding barrack-room lawyer
type, shouted out "You can't fucking touch us. It's
against the law."

He was waiting for just this sort of come-back and was
prepared for it.

"Jason, you've been here the longest. What do you
think?"

"I ain't never seen you hit anyone, sir." The sniggers
from the others said everything Greg couldn't.

"Thank you, Jason. What are the rules then?"

"If anyone plays up and makes us all loose our
football or break times then we `talk' to `em
outside."

He was right. It was not `best practice' according to
the manual, but it was straight-forward and effective.
The boys on the whole respected the system and had
very few problems with it. As a result, the behaviour,
language and violence were a great deal less than they
met with outside school in their everyday lives. They
had as good a time as they could in school, with as
little hassle as possible, and in return helped keep
it that way.

"Fuck it!" the lawyer said, "He ain't fucking about
with me!"

Ten minutes into lesson one, day one, and it had
started. No less than I expected.

"Mark?" I looked at our star footballer. "How many
`fucks' are you allowed?"

"None, sir."

"And if there are?"

"No breaks or football."

"Good that's settled. Did you hear that,.... " I
looked at the register. "Stephen?"

"Yeah, that's my name. Don't wear it out!"

Ignoring the comment, I simply said, "Fine. Let's
carry on then, shall we."

"Fuck you!" I heard him whisper behind his hand.

I waited to see how the class reacted. I wasn't
disappointed: I knew my boys well enough to know they
wouldn't accept this sort of direct challenge to the
group without a come back, especially not from a
newcomer.

>From the seat immediately behind Stephen, a fist
suddenly appeared and landed two very hard knuckle
raps on the back of his head. Spinning round, with
clenched fists raised, the look he received from David
told him he'd better not try it. David was our
weightlifter.

The rest of the lesson passed off peacefully, enabling
me to take a closer look at blondie. He was called
Brian according to his records, was in care locally as
so many of our boys were, and had just been fined by
the Juvenile Court for burglary.

I decided to keep the newcomers back when the lesson
ended to make sure they understood our rules.

Stephen, a little more subdued, at least allowed me to
explain in simple words he would understand where he
stood. Sulkily he agreed to try and behave himself. I
didn't believe him, and he knew I didn't. Still, it
was nothing new, I'd seen it all before. I wouldn't
change him: time and peer pressure would.

As I let them go, Brian hung back a little until
they'd left.

"Sir," he mumbled, "I been told I gotta tell you that
I can't read."

I felt sorry for him: none of the boys could read very
well and although we all knew, it was never mentioned.
I told him not to worry, that he wasn't the only one,
and I would help him as much as I could. I looked at
him and ruffled his soft hair, "Don't panic, it'll
work out."

In that split second he looked into my eyes as he
smiled, I knew that he knew who and what I was. The
smile widened ever so slightly as he walked away.

It took a week or so for the group to settle down to
my satisfaction, the newcomers rapidly getting used to
out routine and my style of management. There were one
or two bruises on Stephen's face and a satisfied smirk
from the older boys when they saw I'd noticed, but no
one complained. Once they were working more or less
normally I found the time to read through their files
more carefully than I usually do; I find that school
records are not that good at describing problem
children in detail, mainly because it might appear
that their previous teachers (or more usually schools)
weren't all that good. I read Brian's with particular
interest.
He'd been in care for most of his life, no reason was
given, but he'd moved around a good deal and had been
involved in several minor incidents of violence and
petty theft. Reading between the lines, he was either
an intelligent troublemaker, or a victim of bullying.
Despite my better judgement I made my mind up to try
and get to know him better.

With that end in mind I arranged that he spend an hour
every day alone with me so that we could work on his
reading and writing, not only in peace and quiet but
also away from the others.
The first lesson we had together was a good one. I sat
him across the other side of the table from me and
gave him several little tests to do so I could assess
him. The table wasn't quite wide enough to keep our
legs from touching underneath, a fact which Brian
picked up quickly and I had to move a couple of times
to avoid what were obviously deliberate attempts by
him to keep them touching. He also spent as much time
looking at me and staring with his big, beautiful eyes
as he did looking at his work. At the end of the
lesson I watched as he departed, trying his best to
hide what was obviously an erection. I hope he didn't
notice mine.

The following day he chose to sit alongside me rather
than opposite, and once again chose to ignore the
deliberately provocative situation he put himself in.
Within ten minutes he had an erection, which he
ignored at first but as time progressed he repeatedly
dropped a hand down and fondled it. Twice I looked at
him disapprovingly and he took it away, but after the
third time I ignored it and let him leave it there.
When we'd finished work he went on to his next lesson,
still sporting an erection, making no attempt to hide
it as he adjusted it from inside his trousers to make
it less obvious.

I checked through his records again, trying to ferret
out any information at all about his sexual
proclivities, but there were none at all apart from a
comment from his last teacher (a man) who noted that
he was sometimes `too tactile for his own good'.

The third lesson of the week started off just like the
others, but as we'd made good progress so far, I
decided to have a chat-type lesson. We sat on a couple
of easy chairs I keep in my room for just this sort of
thing and we relaxed into them. He wasn't a
particularly good talker, mainly because I don't think
he'd had much chance in the past to talk about himself
- his likes and dislikes and so on. I did pick up
however that he was something of a loner and didn't
much enjoy the company of other boys, mainly because,
according to him, they always got him into trouble.
One of the reasons I'd elected to use the easy chairs
was to avoid any physical contact with him and
hopefully therefore avoid any more erections, but I
was wrong. As time went by, he again put his hand into
his groin and absent-mindedly started to caress his
dick. I decided that this may well be for comfort as
anything else.  Once more, I decided not to stop him,
justifying it to myself that I wanted to see just how
far he would go.

Apparently, there was no limit. Not once during the
first half-hour did he let go of his tool, and what's
more positioned himself so I just couldn't avoid
watching him play with himself. He was completely
unabashed in his behaviour, seemingly deriving a great
deal of comfort, not to say pleasure from it. It was
hard work keeping my hands off my own erection, I just
hoped it wasn't as prominent as his but I had my
doubts.

Things didn't change for the remainder of that week,
or the following one for that matter. He, for his
part, seemed to enjoy being with me, and we made some
good progress academically. I also enjoyed his
company, and it wasn't only for the lessons! I spent a
good many hours turning things over in my mind, trying
to work out how to handle the situation. A part of me,
the biggest part if I were honest, said not to do
anything, and see how things developed. Much to my
surprise I even allowed myself to imagine that just
possibly we might be able to take things further, but
I dismissed this thought just as soon as it arrived.


Chapter Two.

Monday came round, and I'd arranged to see Brian for
the first lesson in the afternoon. When he turned up,
I was amazed to see him wearing his PE shorts, with
his school T-shirt on top. There was a nominal school
rule forbidding this, but many boys ignored it if they
had a PE lesson before or after an academic one. I
made no comment, except to think to myself that life
wasn't getting any easier.

He sat next to me at the table as he worked, one hand
in its usual place, but this time petting a very
visible boner. I judged it to be about four or five
inches long from where I was sat, and pointing up
towards his navel. This time I had no choice but to
move mine from its painful angle. All I got for this
was a wicked grin from Brian, almost saying `I knew
I'd get you to do it eventually'. I smiled back at
him, but never said a word.

We were reading from his book a little later, and he'd
moved his chair closer to mine so we could both read
it. Our thighs were touching, but I didn't object this
time. Suddenly I became conscious of a hand on my leg;
he'd moved the one from his groin and was resting it
on my thigh. I looked at him and was about to tell him
to move it when he asked me what something meant in
his reading book. I made the fatal mistake of
answering that question and ignoring his hand, and by
the time I'd explained the word, it was too late. He
gave me one of his most disarming smiles and said,
"Thank you," pressing his hand firmly on my leg as he
did so.

I was lost. I don't think there was any turning back
from this point, much as I knew I should have done,
but the temptation was far too great. I think he knew
that too because his hand remained there for the rest
of the lesson, occasionally even stroking my leg with
his fingers. I never even thought of asking him to
move it.

At the end of school, I was sat at my desk marking
when the door opened to admit Brian, still in his PE
gear. I looked at him, and pleased though I was to see
him, asked him what he wanted.

"Sorry, Sir, but I thought I'd got football after
school today and I haven't and they're not coming to
pick me up for another hour. Can I wait in here with
you?"

I knew he wasn't telling me the whole truth, he didn't
live that far away and could easily have walked home
in fifteen minutes, but I ignored this, grateful in
some ways that the episode this morning hadn't seemed
to put him off being alone with me.

The marking was forgotten as I turned to face him. He
was sat on the table in front of me, hands on his
knees, legs slightly apart, just looking at me and
smiling slightly. I could just make out what looked
like white briefs hugging his upper thighs.

"Had a good day?" I asked, hoping to take my mind off
what I was thinking.

"Yeah, OK thanks. I liked it best with you this
morning, it was good."

I wasn't sure whether he meant the reading or the
other thing, I chose to think it was the reading.

"Great. Your reading and writing are getting better
already, aren't they?"

"Oh, that. Yeah, I `spose they are. I hadn't thought
about it much."

Alarm bells rang in my head; it wasn't the reading
that he'd liked about my lesson then. I silenced the
bells and smiled at him. In return he gave me a
magnificent beaming grin, and was going to say
something but changed his mind. Instead he opened his
legs wider and put his hand in his crotch. I stared at
him, fascinated at his boldness and said nothing
except, "Be careful, the door's still open. People
will see you."

I expected him to move his hand, but instead he jumped
off the table, ran to the door and pushed it closed
before bouncing back on the table, legs spread even
wider apart and his fingers resting on his erection
again.

"Do you always do that?" I asked, nodding in the
direction of his groin.

"Sometimes, but not often, Only with people I like
anyway. Don't mind do you?"

I thought for a split-second before telling him that I
didn't mind, but he shouldn't do it when other people
are around.

"I haven't," he said, "I've only done it when there's
just you and me. In any case, it only gets hard when
I'm with you."

He said this with complete openness and frankness: he
could have been talking about football for all the
difference it made.

"Yes. Well, you'll still have to be careful."

"OK," he grinned and continued stroking his dick even
more blatantly if that were possible.

We chatted about odds and end for another ten minutes
before he changed tack completely and said, "You've
got a hard on as well, haven't you?"

I flushed bright red. I had, of course, and had had
one ever since he came in the room. I didn't deny it
and simply said, "Yes. It's very difficult not to get
one when you're sat next to me playing with yours all
the time."

He laughed lightly but said nothing, neither did he
stop toying with himself.

"What did your other teachers say when you behaved
like this in front of them?"

"Ain't never done it before, not with teachers anyway.
I've not liked any of `em in that sort of way."

"But you've done it before then?" I enquired.
This time it was his turn to be embarrassed. Glowing
redly, he said, "Just once or twice. I sometimes get a
funny feeling when I'm with some people and I can't
seem to help it."

Now he was being serious and so I decided to follow it
through.

"Can I ask you something? Something personal?"

"Yeah, OK." he responded after a slight hesitation.

"Have you ever, you know, got into any trouble by
doing that?" I again nodded at his boner.

"No. Never. But I've messed about a bit though." He
smiled at me and gave his dick a meaningful squeeze
for my benefit, re-enforcing what he'd just told me.

He went on to tell me that he'd messed about some with
the other boys in the different homes he'd been in,
and much to my surprise, one of the adult carers as
well. I then asked the obvious question.

"Do you like doing it?"

"Yes." was the simple answer. "Do you?" he then added,
looking directly at me. I was not surprised at the
question I suppose, but the open directness of it
shook me to the core. I guess tact and sublety weren't
in his vocabulary!

I'd already made my mind up that if he was honestly
offering to `mess about', then I wouldn't refuse the
invite. Stupid and dangerous I know, but on the other
hand he had done all the running so far and he was
seemingly quite keen to take it further. If he was as
anxious as that, then he probably was also able to
keep things to himself - he'd done it in the past as
he just admitted.

"Well," I said slowly, "Perhaps. A long time ago
though, when I was your sort of age."

This brought another beam to his face and he started
to swing his legs as he slid his hand inside his
shorts and stroked his cock even more firmly now.

I was much too aroused now to think clearly and
decided to go for it. "Listen," I continued, "If you
like I'll take you home tomorrow after school and we
can talk then. But of course ......"
He interrupted me by saying, "I know, I ain't stupid -
don't tell anyone."

This suited us both: he had to go home now anyway, and
the delay until tomorrow would give us both time to
think and make sure that we both wanted to take things
further.

Chapter Three.

The following day during our group lesson, there were
no problems with anyone for a change, and I was glad
to notice that Brian kept himself to himself. It was
the same during our one-to-one lesson as well, the
only comment being made as he left the classroom was
that he would see me straight after school.

After school however was different. When he came into
my room he closed the door carefully behind him and
came across to my desk where I was working. After our
conversation of yesterday, my cock gave a little lurch
inside my trousers as he walked across the room. At
least he'd turned up, which was his choice, and the
odds of things developing from here suddenly got a lot
better. He picked up a chair from one of the classroom
tables and dragged it across to where I was sitting.
He sat down, pulling himself as close to me as he
could without actually getting on my lap. Now that
would have been nice, but this was neither the time
nor the place unfortunately.

"What you doin'?" he asked, looking round my desk.

"Nothing now. I was marking, but I've almost finished.
Want a lift home?"

"Yeah. But not yet. I got about an hour before I said
I'd be home."

"Don't they wonder where you are or what you're
doing?" I asked, curiously.

"No, not really. They pretty well leave us alone as
long as we're there for meals, or back indoors before
it gets dark."

"I see. What do you want to do then?"

"Can we go back to your house? I'd like that lots."

I hadn't bargained for that. Of all the possibilities
that I'd conjured up over the past couple of days,
that one hadn't even entered my mind. I would have
liked nothing better of course and was within an ace
of agreeing to it, but changed my mind.

"I don't think that's a good idea, not today anyway.
Want to come for a ride in the car?"

He didn't look too disappointed at not going back to
the house and smiled when I offered a ride instead.

"OK. I'll meet you at the far end of the playing
fields in about ten minutes?" he said, jumping off the
chair.

The little tyke had already worked that bit out! It
would not have been a good idea for me to be seen
taking Brian home in my car, not without telling
someone why. I smiled and said I'd be there as soon as
I could.

Fifteen minutes later we were driving out of town into
the countryside, not really having a clue where we
were going. I wasn't in any great hurry anyway, I
wanted to spend some time talking to him first. He
didn't waste much time on talking himself; within
seconds he'd slid over towards me as much as he could
and was nestling against my side, one hand already
holding his best friend through his trousers.

I laughed a little, and nodding at it, I said, "Don't
you ever leave it alone?"

He laughed back and said, "Sometimes, but not when I
haven't got to. I like feeling it."

We drove in silence for another five minutes, by which
time we were well out of town, drifting through the
country lanes.

"Wanna see it?" he asked, turning his bright little
face towards me.

"You sure?" I asked, looking back at him. This was the
last step as far as I was concerned; once we'd got
that far, there would definitely be no turning back
for either of us.

Without a moments hesitation he nodded and hastily
pushed his zip down and thrust his hand inside his
trousers. After a bit of wriggling about, he pulled
his beautifully erect dick out through the fly. It was
magnificent. About five inches long, circumcised and
about an inch in diameter, it seemed almost to glow
pearl-like in the light. I gasped in awe and almost
whispered, "That's beautiful."

He beamed delightedly and slid down as far as the
seatbelt would allow, spread his legs a little and
looked down at his gently throbbing prick. "Touch it
if you like. I don't mind."

I dropped a hand from the steering wheel and folded it
around his warm, silky-smooth shaft, feeling every
magnificent fibre of it, fixing the sensation in my
mind. It was extremely difficult concentrating on my
driving and watching my hand toy with his boyhood at
the same time. He was obviously enjoying it almost as
much as I was. He was leaning back in the seat now,
eyes closed and a blissful smile on his face, low
moans escaping from his mouth. My guess was he'd been
waiting for this for a long time.

"That OK?" I whispered.

"Yeah. Oh, yeah." he sighed. "That's fuckin' good."

I ignored the obscenity on the grounds that it was
probably the only thing he could say. I had to let go
of him for a second or two as I negotiated my way
round a parked car: his eyes flashed open the instant
I released my grip, and he automatically covered his
groin area with both hands. Once round the obstacle he
moved them away and gave me an inviting glance,
nodding at his erection. I replaced my hand and gave
him a gentle squeeze.

"Can I hold yours?" he mumbled, pleadingly.

I nodded in reply, without taking my eyes off the
road. I opened my legs as far as I could and waited
for his tiny hand to find its target.

The electric shock I felt as he touched me for the
first time made me swerve a little on the road. He ran
his fingers up and down my full seven inches three or
four times, eventually coming to rest with them spread
out, spaning the whole length through my trousers. I
felt wonderful and was conscious of pre-cum leaking
like mad from my cockhead. Moaning slightly, I slid
down the seat a little to give him some more room. It
was only seconds later I felt his other hand trying to
slide my zip down, but it got stuck after the first
inch or two. In any case by now I'd decided that if we
were going to mess about like this, there was no way
we should be doing it whilst I was driving! Hurriedly,
I tried to think of somewhere close by we could stop
for a while, out of harm's way. There was nowhere I
could think of immediately, but as I was turning off
the main road I spotted a little track leading into a
field. As quickly as I could, I reversed down it and
parked behind some trees, far enough away not to be
seen from the road. Turning the engine off, I
unfastened my seat belt and twisted round to face
Brian. I wanted to ask him just once more if he really
wanted to do this, but didn't have the courage: I
couldn't have stopped myself anyway. What we were
about to do was about as wrong as anything could be,
but I don't think either of us could give a damn at
that point. I unzipped my trousers completely and
leaned back. Brian was there like a shot, his hand
worming its way inside my fly almost before I got
comfortable.  The question of him wanting or not
wanting to do it was academic.

If I thought the electric shock I had when he first
touched me through my trousers was bad, the one I got
when his delicate fingers touched the skin of my dick
was ten times worse. It'd been months since anyone
other than myself had handled my dick and it was
something I'd missed terribly. Now here I was, not
only being fondled, but by a beautiful 13-year old boy
to boot! I almost creamed myself there and then. In a
dream-like trance, I worked my hand across to Brian's
tool and started to stroke it slowly.

"Can we get in the back?" I heard Brian ask from a
million miles away. "It'll be better."

"I can do better than that," I replied, struggling to
sit up. One of the reasons I'd bought this car was
that the two front seats could be adjusted to lay
right back, almost level with the back ones. Up until
now I'd never had reason to take advantage of them,
but now I was grateful I'd thought about it when I got
the car. It took a couple of minutes, but once done,
the inside of the car looked rather like a quite
presentable bed.

We settled ourselves down and lay facing each other,
hands reaching down to our exposed pricks.

"Mmmmm, that's nice," Brian sighed, stretching himself
out as he stroked my dick sensuously. He stopped for a
moment , unfastened his belt and pushed his trousers
and briefs down to his knees, exposing his pubescent,
hairless groin and superbly erect dick. His skin was
perfection, not a mark or hair on it anywhere, his
missile standing vertically from a pair of magnificent
round testicles in perfect proportion to his cock. I
fell in love with it straightaway.

"Come, on," he moaned, "Hurry up. It's your turn."

Wordlessly I scrambled to undo my pants and thrust
them down as far as I could, the cool air hitting my
overheated genitals and making me shiver a little. I
stared down at myself, watching my dick beat time with
my heart and noticing the drops of pre-cum shining on
my uncut cockhead.

Brian took hold of me with both hands, one cupping my
balls and the other grasping my prick firmly as if
grabbing hold of a long-lost friend. We turned to face
each other once more, inching closer to each other. I
will never forget the next few minutes as long as I
live. If I thought I was frustrated, Brian must have
been a lot more so. Frantically his hands roamed
everywhere they could reach, feeling every square inch
of naked flesh he could, staring wide-eyed at my dick
as he did so. Hot just wasn't in it - he was delirious
with happiness. I closed my eyes in ecstasy as I
savoured his attentions; it felt as if he had four
sets of fingers fondling me all at once, It was truly
mind blowing, and I bitterly regretted not taking a
chance and going back to my house.

Forcing myself back to reality, I found his dick and
noticed just the merest hint of pre-cum on the end of
it before I began to stroke it, gently at first, but
unable to restrain myself, rapidly built up speed,
aware that I was extremely close to cumming. With an
immense strength of will I put a restraining hand over
his fist and stammered out, "Wait a second, I don't
want to cum just yet."

I concentrated on bringing him to his orgasm, which
took all of three strokes before he gasped and said,
"Now!" He jerked me off with two or three strokes and
together we shot our too-long delayed loads all over
each other, my seven or eight shots being matched by
his, in number if not in quantity. I think we both
yelled out as we climaxed, I wouldn't know. All I was
aware of was that I'd had the quickest, best and most
erotic cum I'd had for years. I was exhausted, and
took several deep breaths before I felt able to speak.
When I did come too, I was amazed to find that we were
still both holding on to our now softened dicks, Brian
breathing just as deeply as I was.

"That. Was. Fucking. Awesome." he said between
breaths.

"Yeah," was all I could manage.

We lay there, gathering our strength for a few minutes
just staring at the roof of the car, neither having
the strength to move. Eventually, feeling a bit
better, I put an arm under Brian's neck and pulled him
to me and gave him a big hug. I would have kissed him,
but drew back at the last moment, not knowing how he'd
take it. Instead I whispered, "Thank you," in his ear.

"S'OK," he replied, "Good, wasn't it. Wanna do it
again?"

There was no way I could manage a repeat performance,
not just yet anyway, my dick was still soft unlike
Brian's.

"I couldn't. Could you?" I said quietly.

"Dunno. Probably."

I started to stroke him again, this time encouraging
him to lay on his back and allow me to concentrate on
giving him as good a time as I could. Playing with his
adorable little balls, I gently jerked him off,
allowing my fingers to stimulate his adorable cockhead
as much as I could. With each stroke I made, his
lissom body jerked a little and a groan escape from
his lips. He was in heaven as I worked his dick
lovingly, watching my every move intently. I made a
ring with my thumb and first finger and gently rubbed
them over his cockhead, feeling his dick twitch each
time I changed direction. It wasn't very long before I
felt it stiffen up and his balls contract as he
approached yet another orgasm. Without warning, his
hips bucked up, his legs and arms went rigid and he
shot out another three or four rocket-propelled spurts
straight upwards, only being stopped as they hit the
roof of the car. Even when he'd shot his last bolt,
his thin body shuddered and shook as he calmed down.

He looked at me, eyes glazed, and grinned broadly,
completely speechless.

I grabbed some tissues from the glove box and tenderly
cleaned him up, making sure every last drop of cum was
wiped up. Meanwhile, he'd gathered himself together
and lay back, arms under his head.

"That was fu.... brilliant!" he said. "The best ever!"

I glanced at the clock and realised that we couldn't
stay here much longer. I gave him another hug and said
that we aught to get dressed and make our way back.
There was only the slightest look of disappointment as
I said this, but he nevertheless reached down and
pulled his pants and trousers up as I did the same.

On the way back, we chatted about everything else
except what we'd just done - it was obviously our
secret. As we got nearer the town, and within a few
minutes of his home, I had an idea.

"Do you know where I live?" I asked. It wasn't such a
daft question as it might at first appear. I'd lived
in my house for a good few years, and I suppose there
were a lot of pupils who knew where I lived, it wasn't
a particular secret. Luckily, it'd never cause me any
problems.

"Sort of," he replied. "I know the name of the road,
but not the number or where it is."

"How'd you know that?" I asked.

"Saw it once on a letter on your desk, but I can't
remember the number though."

I made a slight detour and drove past my house.
"There," I pointed, "The one with the green front
door. Number 27."

He looked at it, obviously fixing it in his mind. As
we pulled away, I carried on, "If you like, you can
come round tomorrow. I'm not going out."

I looked at him sideways as I said this, watching for
his reaction. There was the briefest of self-satisfied
smiles as he said that he'd try. I hoped with all my
heart I'd not made a bad mistake.

Two minutes later we were at the end of his road and I
pulled into the kerb.

"OK then?" I said as brightly as I could. "See you in
school tomorrow?"
He leaned over towards me and for a moment I thought
he was going to kiss me, but at the last second he
stopped and whispered, "Yeah. I'll be there, and
thanks, it was fantastic."

Without further ado, he opened the door and jumped
out, waving goodbye as he ran down the street.


Chapter Four.

The following day, although as busy for me as it
usually was, nevertheless seemed to drag by incredibly
slowly.  I met Brian a couple of times in the
corridor, and once in class, and thankfully he never
even hinted at what we'd done last night or the
get-together planned for today. In fact I wasn't all
that sure about yesterday myself, in some ways it
seemed as if I'd dreamed it all.  My illusion was
shattered though when he left my room at the end of
the lesson.  Having made sure he was the last to
leave, he gave me a broad smile and whispered, "See
you later!" before running to catch his mates up.

I don't know why, but I'd assumed that if he was going
to pay me a visit, it would be straight after school
and so I rushed through the essential work I had to
do, and left the building as quickly as I could,
getting home about half-an-hour after school closed.
There was no sign of him.

In some ways I was relieved, assuming he'd changed his
mind and thought better of it; at least I wouldn't be
tempted again I thought, it was just a one-off.
Still, I would give him an hour just in case, and if
he hadn't turned up by then, I would forget all about
it and make some tea for myself.

The hour passed slowly, and as he hadn't come, I went
into the kitchen and made my evening meal.  It was
getting dark, about seven o'clock when the front door
bell rang.  When I opened it, I couldn't see anyone at
first, but suddenly Brian appeared from behind the
bushes in my garden and pushed his way past me into
the house.  Glancing up and down the road and seeing
no one in sight, I closed the door and went to join
Brian who was standing behind me, grinning widely.

"I made it!" he said happily. "And no one saw me."

I guided him to the living room and I sat down in my
big easy chair. Brian sat on the arm alongside me, his
legs spread either side and an arm along the back.

"I'd given you up," I said. "What happened?"

"Sorry," he said, "I should've told you.  I went home
first and got my tea. We can stay out longer after tea
and I don't have to be back until about nine o'clock.
That gives us a couple of hours instead of just a few
minutes."

It was good thinking on his part, but I wasn't too
sure about it: he'd confused me a bit by turning up
like this and I was unprepared. But, he was here now
and I was delighted.
" `S a nice house," he said looking round the room.
"Can I have a look round?"

I got out of the chair and took him on a tour of the
ground floor, which didn't take long: a living room,
dining room, kitchen and laundry room. I was not
intending to let him see the first floor as there was
only the bedrooms and bathroom, but before I could
stop him, he was running up the stairs in front of me.
 I watched as he opened each door in turn, poked his
head round the door and looked around. Still grinning,
he finished his tour and skipped downstairs back to
the easy chair in the living room.

"It's a nice house isn't it?" he said, looking at me.

"Yeah, I think so."

He sat there for a while in silence, obviously
thinking.  One of his hands slid down to his jeans and
onto his cock, firstly adjusting it and then gently
stroking it over his trousers. I watched as it
hardened up, tenting his jeans up beautifully.  He
glanced at me once or twice and grinned wickedly,
taking the opportunity to stare down at the growing
erection in my pants.

He slid off the arm of the chair and on to my lap,
just as if it was the most natural thing in the world
and put his hands on my shoulders, staring straight
into my eyes. He wriggled about slightly until his
butt was squarely over my boner, confirming it by
clenching his cheeks together a few times.

"Wanna do it?" he said quietly.

I nodded: there was nothing else in the universe I
wanted at that moment and there was no way I could
speak.

Brian jumped up from my lap like a two-year old,
giving my rock-hard dick a painful squeeze as he did.
Without waiting for another second, he stripped off
his T-shirt and bent down to remove his shoes and
socks: we were obviously going to get naked.  The
living room was most certainly not the place for us to
do this, and despite my earlier promise to myself,
decided that the bedroom was the only place to be.

Before I could stop him, he sat on the floor and
almost tore his jeans and briefs off before standing
up again in front of me, his beautiful hairless cock
pointing straight at me, his face wreathed in an evil
grin.  This was just what he'd been waiting for.

"Not here," I said urgently, "The windows!"

He put his hand up to his mouth in horror as he
realised he could be seen by anyone who happened to
look in at that particular moment. Flushing bright red
with embarrassment he hid himself behind the living
room door and looked at me.  I couldn't help but laugh
at him.

"Come on," I said, "Let's go upstairs quickly."

As I walked past him, he leapt up at me, wrapping his
legs round my waist and holding me tightly round the
neck.  He leaned back to look into my face, still
grinning.  His face said it all: this was just what he
wanted and he couldn't wait any longer.  I felt his
iron-hard cock pressing into my stomach as he gripped
me with his legs.

Somehow I managed to struggle upstairs with this
angelic waif clinging to me like a magnet, my hands
firmly cupping his deliciously firm butt. Turning
right at the top of the stairs I opened the door to
the spare room and dropped him on the unmade bed.  He
bounced on his back, his cock still standing proud,
begging for attention.  We looked at each other,
unsmiling.  This was serious business now, not to be
taken lightly.

I stared down at him, letting my eyes wander down from
his head to his toes.  He was absolutely perfect in
every respect, there wasn't a flaw on his golden skin
anywhere.  His mane of silvery-blond hair made him
look even younger than his 13 years, the only clue to
his real age being his perfectly formed five inch
penis and balls, with I noticed for the first time, a
few wisps of the same silver-blond hair as he had on
his head. It was a truly awe-inspiring sight and I
became acutely conscious of my dick leaking pre-cum
inside my briefs.

"Come on, stop staring and get undressed," he
whispered. "Hurry up, I can't wait much longer."

He watched impatiently whilst I undressed, dropping my
clothes where I stood. It'd been months, if not a
couple of years since I had been naked in front of
anyone else and I felt more than slightly embarrassed
as I walked across to the bed and Brian.  The one
thing which wasn't self-conscious was my still
dripping cock, like a moth to a flame I was being
drawn irresistibly forwards.   I sat on the edge of
the bed, unsure of what to do next: I knew exactly
what I would have liked to do, but so far Brian and I
had only jerked each other off and I wasn't sure what
else he could, or would, do.  There was no need to
worry.  He put a hand on my shoulder and gently pulled
me down on the bed. The smile had gone now: he was in
desperate need of physical contact and some TLC and it
showed. Pulling a blanket over us both, he sighed
deeply and visibly relaxed.

Once we'd made ourselves comfortable, he wriggled
himself as close as he could and hugged me painfully
tight.  I looked into his exquisite eyes and saw a
tiny tear forming in the corner.

"Just hold me for a minute will you?" he whispered.

I was more than willing to oblige and cuddled him to
me, stroking his downy hair.

"That's nice," he whimpered, "Keep on doing it."

I leaned over and took his face in my hands and kissed
him on the forehead. "For as long as you like," I
replied.
 We lay like this for ages until he decided he wanted
a change. Sliding his body on top of me, he rested his
cock alongside mine and stretched out, clamping his
arms under my neck.

"Can I kiss you?" he said, almost inaudibly.
"Please?"
Putting a hand on the back of his head, I drew him
closer until our lips met. We pecked at each other a
few times, the electricity sparking between us like
lightning.  Then he lost it completely.  Holding me by
the ears, he forced his tongue between my lips and
attacked me savagely, writhing and twisting like a
demon.  After the initial shock, I returned the kisses
with equal fervour, my hands gripping strands of his
hair tightly between my fingers.  This was a new
Brian, one I hadn't seen before; a passionate,
animalistic Brian.  As we kissed his hips bucked up
and down frenziedly, way out of his control, massaging
our erections together as if the end of the world was
coming.  Somewhere in the mists of my over-wrought
mind came the thought that we were going too fast,
much too fast, if we were to last more than another
two minutes.

I pushed his head away from mine and said, "Slow down,
slow down, we've got ages yet."

He shook his head and said in a rush, "No. Just give
me a minute, it'll be OK."

He resumed his kissing with renewed vigour and started
snaking his hips, driving them into me with a force I
wouldn't have believed possible from one so young.

The inevitable soon happened, and with an animal-like
scream he shot a load of hot, creamy cum from his
granite-hard prick. With each spasm he thrust hard
against me, his tongue urgently dancing with mine.
After the sixth or seventh spasm, he eased off and
collapsed on top of me, breathing heavily and visibly
sweating.

"That was brilliant, but now we can have some real
fun!"

I looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?" I asked
quietly.

He slid off and lay alongside, one arm over my chest,
his knee resting on top of my still super-hard dick.

He giggled slightly and kissed me softly. "I like to
cum quick first, then we can take our time and have
some real fun before I cum again."

This boy, angelic though he looked, was certainly no
innocent I thought. Wonder where he learned that?

Having calmed down, we contented ourselves by fondling
and caressing each other tenderly, taking the
occasional kiss and exploring each other delicately,
it was magical for us both.  Brian was a changed boy
now, having expurgated his initial passion he
concentrated on simply enjoying himself. There were a
thousand questions I would have liked to ask him, but
now wasn't the time, I was far too aroused by his
ministrations, both oral and manual: he was like a
python, his arms and legs were all over the place, he
just couldn't get enough.

His cock was now hard again, as solid as I'd seen it
in our short acquaintance, but he appeared to ignore
it as he satisfied himself with my body, happy in our
closeness.

Taking a breather for a while, I nestled him in my
arms and gave him a hug.  "You like this, don't you?"
I said quietly.

He looked up at me and nodded, "Yeah. This is the
best."

He grasped my red-hot dick in his cool, soft hand and
held it, giving it the occasional rub, his own tool
resting on my thigh.  "What do you like doing best?"
he said, gazing at the pre-cum oozing from my prick.

I'd been half-expecting this question; it was one
which I wanted to ask him, but was afraid of spoiling
the atmosphere for us.  I didn't know what to say to
him; I liked what we were doing now immensely, and
would have been more than happy if that was all we
did.  I enjoyed sucking and being sucked as well;
fucking I wasn't too sure about though.  Having tried
it three or four times in the past, I'd found it not
only a bit painful, but also unsatisfying as well.  I
fitted his dick in the palm of my hand and felt its
warmth and softness; if only it could talk!

"Most things I guess," I answered, "I like what we're
doing now."

"Mmmmmm." he mused. "Ever been sucked off?"

"Yeah," I replied cautiously.  "Have you?"

"Couple of times, but not lately though.  Been fucked
as well."

That was interesting, I thought, I'd like to hear more
about that sometime.

"What about you?" I queried. "How long have you been
doing this sort of thing?"

"Dunno really, ever since I can remember I suppose."

Retaining his hold on my dick he stretched out
alongside me and rested his head on my shoulder so we
could talk.  I learned that he'd been in care since he
was about six or seven years old and had lived in lots
of different places, mostly in group homes from what I
could work out. Ever since he'd become sexually aware,
which must've been when he was about nine or ten I
guess, he'd shared his body with other residents as
they all did. There had been no question of abuse or
anything, just that boys living together as they did,
followed their basic instincts and explored each other
with a sort of easy freedom that was liked and
partaken of by all.  As time went on, he explained, he
learned that some boys liked messing about more than
others, and he was one of those: there was hardly a
day went by when he didn't have some fun with someone
or other and it became a well-liked routine.  It
struck me then that he never thought of what we were
doing, or what he'd done in the past, as abuse - he
simply assumed it was a normal part of growing up. OK,
he knew it was a secret sort of thing, but that only
made it more exciting. When he got to the age of 11 or
12, he went on, most boys sheered away from the games
he enjoyed and it was harder to find people to mess
about with, and hence the fun he enjoyed so much
became less and less frequent.

It got even worse, he told me, when he was moved to
where he lives now.  He didn't know anyone there, and
apart from just one other boy, he'd actually done very
little `messing about' as he put it.  The boy he got
on with was much older than him, about 18 I think he
said, and that was what had turned him on to older
men. He blushed slightly as he added that I was the
first `old man' he'd actually done more than wank off
with.

"Why me then?" I asked, intrigued.

"When I first saw you, I sort of felt that you would
like it and would do it with me."  He grinned and
added, "I was right, wasn't I?"

So that was it; his whole life story explained, at
least his sexual side anyway.  I guessed that it
wasn't only the sex he craved, but also the physical
contact and attention. Luckily, he'd never been told
just how unusual his experiences were, or how other
people would view them. He'd worked out of course that
whatever he did had to be kept secret, if only because
he'd be stopped if anyone found out what he was doing.

I breathed a sigh of relief as he finished his story,
not only because it confirmed that he was more than
happy doing what we were doing, but also that it was
his choice and was apparently more than willing for it
to continue.  Surprisingly I didn't feel sorry for
him; in fact I thought how level-headed and sensible
he was.  He knew what he was like, knew what he
wanted, and was astute enough to know that it had to
be kept to ourselves.

"So," he said, grinning at me, "Now you know all about
me, gonna suck it for me?"

He didn't give me a chance to say anything. Twisting
his body round, he knelt astride me and presented his
throbbing boner to my face, brushing his moistly
purple dickhead against my lips. Putting my hands
gently on his hips I eased his swollen dick into my
mouth, slowly and carefully.  It was wonderful. He
moaned ecstatically from somewhere above me and pushed
his hips forward, anxious to bury his pride and joy in
my eager mouth.  Once there he started to rock
backwards and forwards slightly, rubbing the full
length of his dick against my tongue and my lips,
moaning each time he moved.  His hands tightened their
grip on my shoulders as he lost himself in his own
world, extracting every last ounce of delight from the
experience.  I understood now why he wanted to cum so
quickly once he'd started: there wasn't the frantic
urgency there would have been otherwise and he
concentrated on the job in hand - or rather mouth!
With infinite patience he very slowly rode my face,
savouring every second.  I could taste the remnants of
cum from his last effort, mixed with a slightly acid
taste of urine, a combination I found incredibly
erotic.

I felt one of his hands grasp my own throbbing cock
and rub it, keeping up the same satisfying rhythm.
His moans and groans increased in volume as he
steadied himself to a regular cycle of pushes and
pulls, each time burying himself as far into my throat
as he could before withdrawing until his cockhead was
pressing against my lips. I washed his tongue and
sucked for all I was worth, my entire body wracked
with an all-consuming passion, unable to believe that
all this was happening - I was sure that I would
awaken soon from my dream, only to find myself alone
in the bed, with only the results of a wet dream for
company.
My reverie was interrupted by Brian, bringing me back
to reality.

"Wanna cum?" he said between gasps, "I think I'm
nearly there."

I mumbled a `yes', unable and unwilling to let go of
his dick for even a second. It was now I received my
second shock of the evening. With only the briefest of
pauses, he spun himself round on my body and presented
his dick at my lips again, but before I could absorb
it, he'd dived down and taken almost my entire cock in
his mouth.  I felt him shudder as I touched the back
of his throat, but he instantly withdrew a little and
started to give me the blow job to end all blow jobs.
Just like before, he attacked me in a frenetic
passion, holding my cock with one hand and sucking for
all he was worth, working his tongue round and round
my dickhead, swallowing my pre-cum avidly.

With an immense effort I resumed work on him, gagging
slightly on the incredible amount of juice he'd
produced in just the short time we were apart.  Aware
that it wouldn't be very long before I climaxed I
concentrated on Brian, stimulating the base of his
boner as I sucked.

"Mmmmmm.  Mmmmmm. Mmmmm," I felt him moan, which I
took to mean that he was coming. Almost instantly his
dick swelled up, throbbed a couple of times and he
deposited another mass of his beautiful sperm in my
mouth, followed immediately by my own wads of love
juice jetting down his throat. There seemed to be
gallons of it, neither of us able to keep pace with
the speed and amount of our efforts.  Shaking and
shuddering together, we drained ourselves dry, urging
the last few drops out with a last, desperate thrust.

Slowly, Brian cuddled up to me and kissed me on the
cheeks.  "See," he said between gasps, "I told you
it'd be better didn't I?"
"Yeah, you were right, that was marvellous," I replied
still fighting for air.

We kissed lazily as our bodies replaced the oxygen
we'd starved it of, wiping the sweat from our brows
with the bedsheet.

"That was good. It's been ages since I done it like
that, it was bloody brilliant!" he said softly.

I couldn't argue with him, it'd been a long time, a
very long time, since I'd been with anyone at all, let
alone a little satyr like Brian.  As we nestled
together in our post-coital bliss, I stroked his back
and pecked at his face.

"Thank you!" I whispered, "Thank you!"

He grinned at me wickedly and replied, "Glad I came?"

He was perfectly aware of the double-entendre and
pleased with himself, waited for my reaction.

"Oh, yeah. You can cum like that anytime you like," I
smiled back at him. "Anytime you like!"

Half an hour later, we were dressed and sat in my
kitchen having a drink of coffee, grinning like
Cheshire cats at one another.

"I'd better go," he said. "I gotta be back soon."

I offered to drive him home, but wisely he turned the
offer down and said that he'd better not `just in
case'. As he was happy to walk home, I accepted his
judgement and ruffled his hair. After a brief
discussion, he suggested that he leave via the back
door as it was less open to public view and there was
less chance of being spotted. Again, I thought this
was a good idea.

"Can I come round again tomorrow?" he asked, now
staring at the bottom of his empty cup.

There was no question. "Of course, of course!" I
whispered.

He brightened up instantly and asked me to leave the
back door open so he could let himself in as soon as
he arrived.  I was more than willing to do this, and
gave him a last deep kiss before he departed.

Exhausted, I collapsed on the sofa in the living room,
watching the TV with open, but unseeing eyes, my brain
a tornado of breathtaking, erotic images.  I would
have difficulty in sleeping tonight I mused.


Chapter Five.

Brian came round regularly after that, almost every
day in fact, and we grew closer, becoming friends as
well as lovers. I think he needed the care and love
that I gave him just as much as the sex, in fact we
didn't always have full sex together as once in a
while either one or the other of us just didn't feel
like it. On those occasions we would be happy just sat
on the sofa together kissing once in a while and
simply holding one another.

We'd been `together' for a couple of months when the
first school holiday came round.  He was a little
pissed off at first as he assumed that we couldn't get
together, but I soon changed that.  I suggested that
instead of coming round in the evenings, he tried to
come and see me during the day.   As it turned out,
this was easier than we thought.  The people who
looked after the boys in the home were quite happy for
them to be out all day as it meant they had fewer
people to get under their feet as they cleaned and so
on. The only proviso was that they didn't get into any
trouble of course: those that did were grounded, which
was a pain on both sides but had to be done.  This was
where Brian could have had a problem as he had a
reputation for getting himself into trouble when he
had nothing to do.  For the first couple of days they
insisted he came home at lunch-time just to check he
hadn't got into any bother. After the first two days
though, they decided to take a risk and let him have
his freedom.

There was no trouble of course as he spent the time
with me, although they never knew this; they were
quite happy to believe him when he said that he was in
the park or swimming or something similar. I don't
think they cared all that much, just as long he was
out of their hair and being careful.

Anyway, the first time he spent the whole day with me,
he was happy enough to help me do odd jobs around the
house, watch TV and of course have some time together
in bed.  We did much the same the following day and we
relaxed into a comfortable routine.  By now I was
perfectly happy to let him have the run of the house,
something which he thoroughly enjoyed.  The only
condition I put on him was that he never went through
the drawers in my desk or bedroom as there were odds
and ends there I'd rather he didn't see, and as far as
I know he never did - I think he knew he had too much
to loose if I found he couldn't be trusted with
something as simple as that.

The sex we had got better and better as we grew used
to each other, we could sort of sense when we both
wanted some fun and knew just what to do with each
other to get the most out of it.  The only thing I
found he didn't like was being touched too much on his
butt.  He never said I couldn't, he just moved my hand
away when he'd had enough, which was usually when I
tried to explore round his hole.

We were laying in bed one afternoon when this topic
came up indirectly.  He'd had an attack of leg cramps
and I was rubbing some oil into his thighs to ease the
pain when I felt him tense up each time I went
anywhere near his butt. He'd done this before of
course, but this time I decided to try and find out
why being touched around his butt distressed him.

"You OK?" I asked as I rubbed the oil into the top of
his thighs.  The need for massage had long since
passed, we were just enjoying ourselves, Brian
thoroughly enjoying the close physical contact just as
much as I was.

"Yeah," he sighed, folding his arms under his head and
closing his eyes.

I moved my hands up a little and rubbed his butt with
my thumbs. No reaction then, but as I inched a little
higher, his cheeks clenched together.

"Try to relax a bit," I said, still rubbing him.

Despite his efforts, he just couldn't, his muscles
refusing to unclench.

"Why don't you like being touched here?" I said,
giving him a slight slap on his rump.

He turned over to face me, his face now serious. He
looked at me for a long moment, deciding whether or
not to tell me.

"You remember I told you about the boy I used to mess
with before?" he started.

"What, the 18-year-old?"

"Yeah. Well, he used to do it to me, you know, put his
thing in there."  Brian pointed to his butt.  "When he
first did it to me it hurt, but after a bit I got to
like it and we did it a lot. One day though, he was in
a funny mood and he just rammed it in and did it
really hard and made me bleed.  I had to go to the
doctors afterwards to get it looked at."

"Christ!" I said, "What did you say?"

"I told him that I'd hurt myself falling off my bike.
I don't think he believed me, but he never told anyone
about it. Anyway, ever since then I feel nervous when
anyone touches me there."

"I see. I won't touch you there again, then."

Then he surprised me. "You can if you like. If you
want to, you can. I think I'd get used to it again,
and I'd like that, you wouldn't hurt me like he did."

"Sure?" I said quietly.

"Yeah."

I cuddled him and we changed the subject, at least for
the time being.  The following morning we were again
in bed together and I experimentally rested my hands
on his butt as he kissed me.  I felt them tighten up,
but left them there.  After a few minutes I began to
stroke him gently but he tensed up so I took them away
and concentrated on kissing him.  This time however,
he took my hands and put them back on his butt.

"Keep doing that, it's OK." he whispered.

Within a few minutes he was fully relaxed again and
content to enjoy my caresses which I was more than
willing to give him.   This routine continued until
the end of the week, by which time he was not only
able to cope with being fondled, but actually like it,
allowing a finger to ease into his hole just a little.

School started on the following Monday, and so Sunday
was the last full day we had together and were
determined to make the most of it. We'd cleaned out my
garage first thing in the morning, and we were both
covered in dust and grime - a shower or a bath was
definitely in order.  One of the few luxuries I'd
allowed myself when I first moved into the house was a
whirlpool bath, they were supremely restful after a
long day at work I found.    Brian had eyed this bath
several times during his visits, but we'd never even
showered together, let alone bathed. We stood in the
kitchen looking at each other, surveying the mess we
were in.

"Want a shower?" I asked.

"Can I have a bath instead?" he asked, head on one
side.

I followed him upstairs and filled it as he undressed
alongside me. I poured a healthy load of sudsy stuff
into the water and checked the temperature.
"There you are, its all yours," I grinned as I stepped
aside.

Carefully he stepped in and sat down on the built-in
seat.

"What you gonna do?" he asked, innocently.

I'd intended to have a shower, but the look he gave me
soon changed my mind for me. "There's room for two in
here," he added smirking.

I got undressed as quickly as I could, my dick already
up and proud.  He smiled even wider as he saw it, but
said nothing.  Easing myself alongside him on the
seat, we had no choice but to put our arms round each
other - the bath was big, but not that big.

"This's nice," he sighed as he put his arms round me.
We kissed deeply and passionately as we rested in the
warm water: the heat somehow heightening our desire
for each other.

He flipped over and lay on top of me, face to face,
still kissing.  Our solidly erect cocks were rubbing
against each other as we wriggled and writhed in the
water, adding to the rapturous atmosphere we'd
created.  I placed my hands on his butt, as much to
hold him close to me as anything else. He moaned into
my mouth as he felt me hold him, and rather than
clench his cheeks together, they actually relaxed and
opened themselves slightly.  Welcoming the
opportunity, I pushed my fingers in and waited to see
what happened.  He groaned even louder and pushed his
butt up, forcing my fingers in even more deeply.  We
kissed hard, our tongues dancing in out mouths.  I
wriggled my fingers around, searching for the spot I
knew would excite him even more.  When I hit the spot,
he froze for an instant, moaned loudly and bucked his
hips.

I took my fingers out instantly, frightened that I'd
gone too far.

"Wait," he gasped.

Turning over, he sat on my lap, looking straight into
my face.   Taking my dick in his hand , he touched it
against his butt-hole and closed his eyes.  Very
slowly he pushed it in, dropping his body down as he
did so. I watched his face intently as he worked my
cock into his butt.  The soapy water helped lubricate
it as he eased himself slowly further and further
down, his face contorted with the effort.  Before I
knew it, he was sat resting on my groin, a wide smile
creasing his face.

"Got it!" he whispered, obviously pleased with
himself. "I done it!"

I hugged him to me and kissed him on the ear.  "You
OK?" I whispered.

"Yeah, oh yeah!" he sighed, " Give me a minute. I'd
forgotten how good it feels."

I would give him more than a minute - he could have as
long as he liked, I'd never expected this and would
have been quite happy as we were, but I think that
Brian needed this more than I did.  It was a sort of
challenge for him, one he had to overcome himself, and
he'd done it.

We sat there for ages, me not believing what we'd
done, and Brian as pleased as Punch that he'd managed
to take me.  Slowly he started to move up and down my
shaft, flexing his thighs and increasing his movement
with each move. I longed to hold him, to hug him,
simply to have him close to me, but that was the last
thing he wanted just now, he was doing this for
himself, not for me and I left him untouched.

Gradually he increased his speed, his face easing into
a contended smile as he did so. He also took my
nipples between his fingers and rubbed them as he rode
up and down my cock.  As far as I knew, he hadn't cum
today so far, and knowing him as I did, it wouldn't
take him long, especially he was making sure I hit his
prostrate every time he moved.  He was the first to
cum, the excitement proving too much for him.  I
watched as his pulsating dick spewed out its first
load of the day, violently and with tremendous force,
the initial shot hitting me on the face, the others
falling into the water.  He paused for only a moment
and once his orgasm had subsided, continued milking me
for all he was worth. Christ knows where he got the
energy from, I know that I feel absolutely drained
just after I cum, but Brian seemed to gain energy
somehow and he bucked and writhed like a man demented
until I just couldn't take any more.  I grabbed him by
the waist and forced him up and down as I ejaculated
deep inside his gut, forcing my dick just that little
bit deeper as I orgasmed.  It was fantastic, his butt
cheeks gripping me as I throbbed, sucking the juices
out of me so hard it hurt.  We collapsed together into
the water, embracing and kissing.

Neither of us spoke; there was no need.  Brian had
beaten whatever demon he had, and I was overjoyed for
him.  We both knew it, and were content enough to
leave it there.

The water was considerably colder now, and reluctantly
we had to get out.  We dried ourselves off, and rather
than get dressed, we wrapped the towels round us and
went downstairs.  My mind was still on Brian as I
settled down on the sofa.  He, being more alert that I
was, drew the main curtains together so we couldn't be
seen from outside, and sat in my lap.

He looked into my eyes, was about to say something,
but changed his mind and kissed me instead. I kissed
him back, held him tightly and stroked his back.  He
was dozing within minutes, head on my shoulder.  I
wrapped his towel round us both and closed my eyes,
perfectly at ease with the world.

Half an hour later, I woke up as he stirred. He smiled
gently as me, curled up and closed his eyes once more.
 Glancing over to the coffee table, I reached over and
picked up my hair brush.  Gently I began to brush his
beautifully soft blond hair.  He moaned in his sleep
and to my amusement, stuck his thumb in his mouth and
smiled to himself.

Some sort of noise from outside made us both jump, and
we stared at each other before giggling at our
reaction.

No one's done that for ages and ages," he said,
nodding at the hair brush. "It's sort of nice, isn't
it."
"Yes, it is," I answered. "I used to like my mum doing
it to me when I was little."

"Mmmmmm. Keep doing it."

I did as I was asked, actually enjoying it.  A hand
slid under the towel and grasped his dick: a sign he
was truly relaxed. I watched as it slowly hardened,
his delicate fingers holding it as it rose up.  It was
the most erotic sight I'd seen in years; this angelic
boy, nude, dozing on my lap and fondling his growing
erection. I struggled to give my own painfully solid
boner a little more space to grow into and in so doing
disturbed Brian.

"Sorry!" he grinned, looking down at my dick.

I smiled and hugged him.  He gave me a quick kiss in
return and slid off my lap to kneel on the floor.
Without taking his eyes off my face, he closed his
lips around my cock and began to suck gently, his cool
hands cupping my balls and cock.  I slid down in the
seat and opened my legs as wide as I could.

He took his time, taking me to the brink several
times, somehow knowing just when to stop, substituting
his delicious sucking for a tongue-bath which was
almost as erotic.  One hand was holding the base of my
cock, the other masturbating his own throbbing cock as
he worked his magic on me. I put my hands on his head,
stroking his freshly-washed hair lovingly as I gave
myself up to Eros. Letting Brian do just what he
wanted to do, and was so good at. After what seemed a
life time, he allowed me to cum, massively and
achingly painful again - how on Earth did he do it?
He ejaculated at exactly the same time as I did, our
joint sperms uniting in my groin with mutual ecstacy.

"Better?" he asked, grinning wickedly.

"Oh, yeah!" I sighed. "Perfect!" Once more he leapt on
my lap and gave me a big, wet kiss.  "I like it here,"
he laughed. "Lots!"

He does too. He continues to visit almost every day,
and now he is into `everything', our times together
are brilliant. He is always the driving force in our
relationship, taking charge from the time he comes in
the house until he leaves.  It's been almost a year
now since he first came to visit, and he's grown up a
lot, in more ways than one. He has grown taller, his
body is filling out nicely and his voice has got a
little less predictable - even his language has
matured somehow. When he comes through my kitchen door
though, he always seems to revert to a child,
stripping off the veneer of adolescent maturity and
simply living for hedonistic pleasure, and who am I to
object?  He is due here any minute now and I must go
and run the bath for us. Now where did I put that
bottle of bath foam?


Brian is Different - Part 2.

Chapter One.

Brian and me have been together for over a year now,
and have never been happier. Despite my earlier
worries about what people may think, we never had any
major problems.  On reflection I guess that our
friendship in many ways wasn't all that unusual. Many
of the teaching staff had pupils they saw more of than
others, either because of a common interest like
football or art, or because they lived near each
other, or their families were friendly or whatever. In
our case everyone knew I was helping him with his
academic work and so there was no problem, it was a
fact tacitly accepted by everyone concerned.

I didn't appreciate this fully until two things
happened almost simultaneously. Firstly we had an
'Open Evening' when parents or guardians came to
school to discuss their charges and any problems they
may be having.  In my case I usually had a quiet
evening as it was an accepted tenet that the parents
of boys with 'behavioural problems' rarely if ever
took any interest in what was going on at school - in
fact that was often the root cause of many of their
problems.  Anyway, this particular night the manager
of the home where Brian lived came in to see me.  This
in itself was fairly unusual as I normally saw one of
his underlings who was in more direct contact with
Brian.  On this occasion, I managed to kill two birds
with one stone: I had two boys from the home in my
group and we talked about them both.  One of them was
easy: Michael was a slow learner, no major problems
except a short fuse and we were working on that.  The
other, slightly more delicate discussion was about
Brian.

Having got plenty of time, I got a cup of tea for each
of us and we went to the staff room where it was
quieter and more comfortable.  I explained as well as
I could what I'd learned about Brian, the sort of boy
he was and all the usual sort of stuff.  He was more
than happy with the way things had turned out, and
expressed his thanks for all the effort I'd put in.
Apparently they'd formed the same sort of opinion of
him that I had: he was fairly bright and had suffered
from a bit of bullying in the past, as well as some
other probable traumas which he wouldn't talk about.
We compared notes about him and didn't have much to
disagree on. Then Paul, the Manager, put his cup down
and looked closely at me.

"You know a lot of his improvement is down to you. Not
you as his teacher, I mean, but you as a person. He
likes to spend as much time as he can round at your
house and it's very good of you to take an interest in
him."

Alarm bells had begun to ring when he said this, and I
was only slightly mollified by his last statement.   I
thanked him for the kind comment and waited for him to
carry on.

"That's OK" he said. "One of the more difficult parts
of my work is to try and integrate the kids we have
into so-called normal society, whatever 'normal' is,"
he laughed. "And with Brian we've done well between
us, although most of it is down to you. In fact the
more time he spends away from the house, the better it
is for him.  Less chance of him being led astray by
the other residents, if you see what I mean."

I nodded in agreement, still not sure where the
conversation was leading although my mild panic attack
had subsided slightly.

"Well, one of the other things we try and do is get
the kids fostered or adopted whenever we can, although
most of them are too old for that."

I began to see where he was going and listened
closely.
"Brian is 13  - nearly 14 in fact - and unless he
moves on in the fairly near future, he will probably
remain in care for the rest of his school life, 16 or
maybe even 18 years old."

"Yes, I can appreciate that. But where do I come in?"
I said, having a damn good idea what was coming up
next.

Paul took a sip of tea, taking the time to pick his
words carefully.

"I came here myself tonight to ask you something.
It's not normally our sort of approach, but under the
circumstances I thought it the best way and I'll not
beat about the bush.  Have you thought of fostering?"

It had crossed my mind in my more fanciful moments
that I wouldn't mind Brian living with me, but had
always dismissed the idea as being too far-fetched and
impractical.

"No," I lied, "I haven't thought about it.  For one
thing, I'm not married and that must be a bar."

"That's no major problem these days, especially when
we're thinking of someone Brian's age.  There'd have
to be checks made of course; Social Services and the
Police and so on. They'd a bit more rigorous than they
would usually be, but I don't foresee any problems
with that if you're interested."

I took a deep breath: this was the last thing I
expected and my mind was in a bit of a whirl.  One
half of me almost jumped for joy, the other half was
scared shitless at the thought.

Paul gave me a few minutes to think about it before
adding, "Why don't you get him to stay with you for a
week-end or two and see how it works out?  I would
really be most grateful if you'd give it some serious
thought. And I know Brian would like it"

I bet he would, I thought to myself, and so would I!
But fostering?  I don't know about that.

"OK," I said, "I'll give it a try if you like."  I
hadn't even given it a second thought: my mouth saying
the words and ignoring my brain.

"Great!" Paul said, shaking me by the hand, "Thanks
very much, I appreciate it.  This week-end?"

I nodded, having lost the power of speech. What the
hell had I just agreed to?
The second problem started the following morning
bright and early.  Brian bounced into class carrying
an overnight bag.  Dropping it by my desk, he grinned
broadly at me and said loud enough for the class to
hear, "I'm staying with you at your house for the
week-end."

I hurriedly explained to the wide-eyed class that
Brian was staying with me for the week-end 'to have a
break' from his home.  Once they'd been told this,
they understood the situation as most of them, if they
weren't in care themselves, knew enough about it to
know that this sort of thing wasn't too unusual.  In
fact most of Brian's class mates were pleased for him,
knowing what life was like living in a children's
home.  The only person who didn't seem at all happy
was Stephen who shot me a look of sheer unadulterated
malice.  After our bad start to the year, we'd had a
sort of armed truce: he was still difficult and
cantankerous and it was only the occasional 'sorting
out' he got from the other boys that kept him in any
sort of order. He and I disliked each other intensely.
 Quite how much he hated me, and through me, Brian,  I
was soon to find out.


Chapter Two.

We had a magnificent week-end together, Brian was as
happy as a sand-boy and thoroughly enjoyed himself.
Oddly enough, we didn't have a great deal of sex
although we slept together of course.  Just for the
sake of any visitors we may have had, we spent most of
Saturday re-arranging my spare bedroom for him, even
going as far as sticking his name on the door.  Once
it was done, he stood and looked round, then
proclaimed 'it was OK, but I'm not using it am I?'

That night as we prepared for bed, he stripped down to
his pants which he kept on, and not being sure  of his
intentions, I did likewise.  Once in bed we cuddled up
close and entwined our legs, enjoying the feel of each
other's warm body. Brian turned to face me, placed my
hand against his boner outside of his pants and rested
his hand against mine.  Sticking his thumb in his
mouth, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.  I
was disappointed at his strange behaviour as I'd been
looking forward to some fun and games, but it seemed
he wasn't interested for some reason.  I mentally
shrugged my shoulders, hugged him tighter and heard
him sigh contentedly. If he was happy, then so was I.
Disappointed maybe, but happy to have him in bed with
me.

Sunday was spent lazing around the house, semi-naked
in Brian's case, and doing the normal household
chores.  It wasn't until the afternoon when we were
vaguely thinking of going back to his home when he
came across and sat in my lap.

He sat quietly for a few minutes with his arms round
me, nestled in my shoulder.

"Have I been OK?" he asked nervously, "I tried to be
good."

He was scared and frightened I guessed, his voice soft
and nervous. It'd been quite an ordeal for him as
there was a lot at stake for him and the strain was
beginning to show.

"Of course," I said giving him a squeeze. "You've been
perfect. Almost too good," I added jokingly.

He grinned with relief, snuggled down once more and
whispered, "And we haven't done anything, have we?"

"Nope. Except sleep together which might be a problem
if anyone got to know," I laughed knowing he would
appreciate it.

"We still got a couple of hours left," he grinned
wickedly, grinding his butt into my groin. "Wanna?"

"Definitely not," I whispered in his ear. "You do
realise that they put hidden cameras all round the
house to check on us don't you? Just in case."

For a moment he believed me, his panic-stricken eyes
darting round the room searching in vain for the
evidence. Then, as the light dawned, he smiled
broadly, gave me a kiss on the cheeks and a hug.

"Come on, we gotta do something. Look."  He nodded in
the direction of his groin, and sure enough there was
that tell-tale bulge that said it all.  "I wanted to
last night," he grinned, "my dick was hard all bloody
night."

"So why didn't you, err, we ..." I said.

"Cause I wanted to see if I could. If I'm gonna live
here like your son, we won't be able to do it will
we?"

This astounded me and I looked at him seriously, not
sure what to make of his last comment. Then I noticed
a glint in his eye that told me he wasn't being
entirely serious, thank goodness! I ruffled his hair
and squeezed him.

"Well, maybe once in a while then. But it's hard being
here with you all night and not doing anything!  I've
had a bloody big boner all night!" Then he added
mischievously, "And I didn't even wank off once!"

I laughed at him, and gave him a kiss. "Do you know,
the more I see you, the more I like you," I said.
"You're mad, but I still like you."

He smiled at me and said, "So. We gonna do something
or not? I can't keep this up for ever." He
demonstrated his point by lifting the waistband of his
pants over his cock and giving me a glimpse of his
vividly red, hugely erect organ. It was too good to
ignore.

"I thought you'd never ask!" I said. Picking him up
off my lap, he wrapped his legs round my waist and I
carried him back upstairs, kissing all the way.

I dropped him on my bed where he lay stretched out on
his back, arms folded under his head, legs out
straight and an evil leer spread across his face.  His
dick was standing straight up, wavering slightly as
his heart pulsed.  He was truly a beautiful sight - I
wish I had the nerve to take a picture of him there
and then, something to remind me of him like he is now
for ever.

I dropped my trousers standing at the end of the bed,
unable to take my eyes off him for a second. He for
his part stared back at me, his tongue wiping his lips
lasciviously, his eyes wide-open and unblinking.
Whether he knew it or not, just at that moment he was
the most sensuous, most alluring and most desirable
person in the universe. My guess is that he had a
pretty good idea what he was doing and the effect it
was having on me.

I crawled up the bed, taking the opportunity to kiss
every inch of him on the way up from his toes to the
top of his head, not forgetting to take special notice
of the bit of him he was most proud of. I kissed him
deeply and passionately on the lips as he locked his
hands in the small of my back and held me close to
him.
He'd placed his dick between my thighs and was gently
lifting his hips up and down as we kissed, something
we'd done loads of times before, but always with him
on top.  As lightly as I could, I moved up and down
him, helping massage his erect missile as much as I
could.

"Make me cum. Quick," he whispered between kisses, "I
can't hold back much longer." I changed my efforts to
more urgent thrusting ones, lifting my butt up and
down, my legs clenched together as tightly as I could.
 He broke off the kisses, thrashing his head from side
to side and hugging me close.

"Don't stop. Don't ......Ughh! Ughh! Ughh!"  With
three massive lunges he abruptly shot his load of
too-long awaited cum out of his throbbing dick, the
red-hot drops landing on my back. He arched his back
as much as my weight allowed and gasped for air, his
thrusts slowing down and stopping altogether as he
drifted down form his orgasm. We kissed as he calmed
down.

"Oh boy!" he sighed, "That's better. Now it's my
turn."

I wasn't aware that his cock softened even for an
instant as he spun round and slipped my pre-cum soaked
cock into his mouth hungrily.

"Mmmm. Mmmmm. Mmmm," he moaned as he deep-throated me
and swallowed every drip of my pre-cum. He pressed his
dick against my lips, urging me to do something about
it.  Willingly I took it in, first licking all round
it and then sucking the remains of his just-shot load
out of it.  I swallowed, savouring the sweet/salt
taste of him, relishing every precious drop.

I don't know whether it was the frustration of being
thwarted last night or the image of his angelic body
stretched out on my bed, but within minutes of his
starting to suck me, I was ready to cum. I didn't
usually have this short-a-fuse, but it was beyond my
control as he sucked and slurped away demonically at
my dick.  He was still in a desperate, frantic mood
and was thrusting himself in and out of my mouth at
the same time as rubbing his hands over every part of
me he could reach - and in the middle somewhere still
managed to keep sucking!

"I'm cumming!" I just managed to stammer out before he
got what he'd been working for so hard.  Whether he
heard me or not, he didn't change his actions in the
slightest except to swallow harder as I jettisoned my
load into his mouth, spurt after never-ending spurt
made their way down his throat, each one ingested
passionately and hungrily.

We lay there together in peace for what little time
remained of our first week-end together.  It had been
just about perfect for us both and we had decided that
should the opportunity be offered, fostering was a
definite possibility.

Monday morning and it was school as normal.  Until my
lesson with 'the boys' that is.  Everything proceeded
normally for the first fifteen minutes until Stephen
started to play up.  He was sat in his normal place
behind Brian and in front of David, but he had
something of an attitude problem this morning. He was
sat slouched down in his seat, legs splayed out and
tapping a pencil on his desk in the most irritating
manner he could. I ignored it for as long as possible,
but he was determined.  After several requests to stop
it, I eventually walked over and removed the pencil
from his grasp without saying a word.   Having nothing
else to annoy with, he started on Brian.

I didn't hear the first couple of comments he said to
him sotto voce, but I knew he'd said something to
upset him as Brian had a face like thunder.  The third
comment I definitely heard. Stephen looked directly at
me, leaned forwards and whispered loudly, "Queerboy.
Fag." in Brian's ear.

I nodded slightly at Brian and told Stephen to shut
up.  He didn't of course, he was in that sort of mood.
Once more he leaned forward, rapped Brian hard on the
head with his knuckles and said loud enough for all
the class to hear, "Cocksucker. Arselicker."

Brian snapped.  He bounced to his feet, turned round
and screamed "Bastard!" at Stephen then ran from the
room crying bitterly.  The class was stunned into
silence, every face staring at me.  I was as angry as
I had ever been, and only with an immense amount of
will-power kept outwardly calm appearance. I asked a
couple of the boys to go after Brian and keep an eye
on him.  I grabbed Stephen by the front of his shirt,
lifted him bodily out of his seat and threw him
against the wall.  He stood shocked at the speed with
which this had happened for a couple of seconds before
he let forth a vicious tirade of verbal abuse spat
directly into my face.  I was as close then to laying
into him physically as I have ever been with a
student, but somehow I managed to put my hands in my
pockets and stare at him. At that moment I knew he was
scared, his eyes showed it. Scared enough to fight
back if I touched him and scared enough not to give a
damn about the consequences. I took a step backwards
to give him a bit of space.

"Sit." I commanded pointing at his chair.  He shook
his head defiantly.  "Sit," I repeated, and again got
a shake of the head.
The situation had now reached crisis point and I had
to resolve it one way or another within the next few
seconds.  I sat on Brian's desk and stared at Stephen,
who glared back like a cornered tiger.

"Right." I said with more confidence than I felt.
"The rest of you outside. You, stay here." I poked
Stephen in the chest hard.  I heard the dozen or so
remaining boys scurrying to leave the  room and I
watched the door close.

Physical violence is always a last resort with a
pupil, but bearing in mind the sort of students I
worked with, it happened once in a while and under the
right circumstances I was always prepared to use it,
but always in self-defence or to protect the others.
This was different.  There was no doubt that in a
confrontation I would win, I had both the skill and
the ability to handle it - it was a part of my
training.  I grasped Stephen round the neck, found the
pressure points I wanted and forced him to the floor
in one smooth move and sat on his chest, knees dug
into his shoulders.

"What the fuck's wrong with you?" I said slowly
emphasising every word.

"Cunt!" he said, "Piss off me."

I shook my head. "Not until you've calmed down."

"Bollocks."

We stayed as we were for at least five minutes,
neither willing to concede. Thankfully one of the boys
had had the sense to let the Headmaster know what was
going on, and I was grateful when he came in the room
to check if everything was under control. He sized the
situation up at a glance and sat on the desk looking
at us both. He had the remarkable ability to see the
funny side of most things, and wasn't afraid to show
it.  He looked at us both, simply folded his arms and
said, "Any idea how stupid you look Stephen?" This
time Stephen remained quiet.

"OK, Greg, you can release him now. But you. Don't
move!" The jokey mood had gone now and he meant what
he said.

I sat on the chair and explained to the head what had
happened, Stephen still sullenly laying on the floor.


"OK," the boss said. "You apologising yet?"

Stephen shook his head.

"I see. Well in that case you'd better come to my
office.  Not now but at the end of morning school and
we'll take it from there when we can discuss the other
little matter as well.  Would you take him outside
now, with the others?"  The last phrase was addressed
to me.

I looked back at the head questioningly.  He was well
aware of what would probably happen to him and
seemingly was going accept it.  I stood up, waited for
Stephen to regain his feet and the three of us went to
the playground where the boys were having a game of
scratch football. Brian was walking disconsolately
round the playground by himself.  The match stopped as
we appeared and the boys crowded round us, apart from
Brian who remained distant and aloof.  The head
explained that the matter was being dealt with, but
because of the seriousness of the offence, all games
had been stopped for the week. With that we walked
away from the playground and left the boys to it.

On the way into school, out of sight of the
playground, the Head quickly explained to me that
Stephen had been caught with a sheath knife earlier
that day and was in the process of being excluded.
"That's one boy we can well do without. The sort of
problems he's got need specialist help." he said.
"You'd better get back to the playground, I expect
that the others will have had a quiet word with him by
now." He grinned knowingly at me and went to his
office.

When I got back to the boys, the football match had
resumed and Stephen was sat in the corner, his head on
his knees.  I walked over to him slowly and lifted his
head up. He had a bruise on his cheek and a torn
shirt.

"Tripped over, Sir," our weightlifter said.
"Yeah," was the chorused agreement from the rest of
the boys.

I gathered the clan together, including a now very
subdued Stephen and went back to the classroom. They
all knew the routine by now and sat down on the easy
chairs waiting for me to start. All except Stephen who
sat by himself in the corner, and Brian who sat at his
desk with his head on folded arms.

"OK," I sighed, "ABC. Who's going to start?"

The boys knew the drill of old.  ABC - Antecedent,
Behaviour, Corollary.  I'd amused them sometime back
about the ABC system, mainly because it helped them
understand their own behaviour sometimes and in any
case a post mortem after an event like this helped
clear the air.

Pete, one of the brighter boys, the one who'd calmed
Brian down, explained.  It was the general consensus
that Stephen was out of order, not because of his
swearing in class so much, or the hitting of Brian.
That was 'normal' in their circles.  It was because of
the sort of language he'd used and the effect it'd had
on Brian.  They all understood that Brian was in care
and as a result was especially sensitive to that sort
of comment. They also knew he'd spent the week-end
with me and had had a good time, something they knew
he didn't get too many of. What pissed the gang off
badly was that in one fell swoop, he'd ruined Brian's
week-end and cost them their games for the week. That,
and the knife.  In their terms, fair fighting was one
thing, carrying a knife was another. That they weren't
going to tolerate.

Towards the end of the lesson, Brian was coerced into
joining us and Stephen was forced to, quite simply by
the boys moving all their chairs round so like it or
not, Stephen was part of the group.  For the first
time ever in my experience, Stephen was told by the
group in no uncertain terms exactly what they thought
of him, and why.  Not the language, not the violence,
but the deliberate way he'd set out to upset Brian,
and the carrying of a knife. 'Only chicken-shit
cowards and idiots are that stupid' he was told.  As
the bell went, David asked him if he was going to say
sorry to Brian.  Stephen looked up, nodded his head at
Brian and looked down at the floor.  In their book,
that was sufficient.

We never saw Stephen in school again, which was a pity
in some ways as having gone through all this, perhaps
we'd made a breakthrough with him. Still, there will
no doubt be others to take his place I sighed as I
sorted out the work for my next lesson.


Chapter Three.

Lunch-time I phoned Brian's home, mainly because I
wanted to find out what they had to say about Brian's
week-end with me and secondly to tell them about the
incident during the morning. Luckily I managed to
catch Paul and told him what had happened.  There was
nothing they could do about it of course, but it was
routine for us to do it just in case something
happened later in the home. The other thing was that
according to Brian, he'd had a brilliant week-end,
apart from being forced to make his own bed and help
me with the housework!  Paul was satisfied with
Brian's 'report' and joked that it'd done him good to
do some domestic chores. I chose not to explain that
'making his own bed' consisted of throwing a duvet
over a bare mattress and closing the door.  It was
also agreed that Brian could spend the next week-end
with me if he wanted.

He did, and the next three as well.  The only drawback
was that he didn't come round so much after school.
After a long talk, Brian and I had agreed that it
wouldn't be a good idea to spend all his free time
with me, apart from the fact that questions might be
asked, he needed to get out and mix with his friends
as much as possible doing the things which boys do, or
at least most of them I joked.

It was the sixth week-end he was staying that Paul
brought him round to the house on Friday evening. He
had with him a sheaf of ominous looking papers which
he lay on the table in front of us.  Whilst Brian was
making us a cup of tea, Paul quickly asked if I was
still prepared to consider fostering Brian on a
long-term basis. When I said that I was, he breathed a
sigh of relief and commented that he was glad for both
of us.

When Brian returned with the tea, he sat between us
and looked at Paul.  He thought he knew vaguely why he
was there, assuming that he was just a routine call,
checking up that everything was OK.  When the envelope
was opened and the top sheet of paper was quite
clearly headed "Application for Fostering", Brian
looked at us both, puzzled.

Paul took charge and after asking the usual questions
about was he being fed alright, was he happy staying
here, where did he sleep, what time did he go to bed,
and so on, he closed the file and looked steadily at
Brian.

"Ever been fostered, Brian?" Paul asked.

Brian nodded.

"Did you like it?"

"Yes," he replied, "But they couldn't keep me so I
came here."

"Would you like to be fostered again?"

It was like a light being turned on, suddenly Brian's
face lit up and he stared from one to the other of us.

"What? Here? With Greg?"

"Yes." Paul said, trying his best to remain
business-like.

"Yes, please!" he grinned, bouncing up and down in his
chair.  If Paul hadn't've been there, I would have had
a seriously happy boy bouncing on my knee - and my
other bits no doubt. Luckily Brian stayed more or less
seated as he waited expectantly.

"Right.  This's what happens."  Paul looked at us both
and having ensured he had both our attentions, carried
on, "It'll take a week or two to arrange, but there
shouldn't be any problem. Once you've read and signed
the forms, they need to be approved by Social
Services, which is pretty well automatic and then
....." He paused, and looked lost for a second.

"You got any parents?" he said puzzled.

Brian shook his head. "No. At least I've never seen
them if I have."  This was news to me, I'd just
assumed that there were some parents around somewhere
- much to my embarrassment I'd never bothered to ask.

"I see. Only we're supposed to let them know where
you're living, but as you haven't any effectively,
then that's OK.  The only other thing is that we will
come to see you here once a week or so just to make
sure everything is OK, and also that if you get any
problems you can always come back and see us at the
home, or telephone us."

Brian nodded his head furiously, grinning widely.

We spent twenty minutes form-filling, and once they'd
been signed by myself, Paul and Brian, they were filed
away and the conversation changed.
"Make us some more tea, please?" Paul asked Brian.
Brian skipped off to the kitchen with the empty cups,
and whilst he was busy, Paul said, "The formalities
are done by and large, there won't be a problem.
We've done the routine Police checks and so on and
they've come back clean. It should only be a week
before he can move in.  There is one other thing
though, whilst I've got you.  If you want to adopt
him, then the initial application can be made after
three months residence with you. If  all goes well,
the final papers would be cleared three months after
that. I've not mentioned this to Brian, I don't think
it'd do any good raising his hopes, just in case
things don't work out.  I'll leave you the paperwork
for you to read through.  Let me know if you're
interested."

At this point Brian came in with the teas, and
cheekily with a plate piled high with biscuits. Paul
grinned and said something about him not quite living
here just yet, and he could have asked first. Brian
just giggled and stuffed his mouth full of biscuit,
still trying to smile.

It wasn't long before Paul left, leaving Brian and I
stood in the living room looking at each other, not
quite believing the last hour or so.  Brian took a
step towards me, put his arms round my waist and
hugged me, laying his head on my chest and rocking
from side to side.  I wasn't sure, but I think he was
crying to himself quietly, but when I raised his head
all I saw were red-rimmed bright eyes and a chirpy
half-smile.

We walked arm in arm to the lounge and sat on the
sofa, still hugging.   We remained quiet for ages, and
I turned the tv on, as much for a bit of background
noise as anything else. About eleven o'clock, I took a
can of beer from the fridge, a bottle of lemonade and
we had a celebratory drink together. Half an hour
later I decided it was bed time for us, and stood up
yawning.

"I'm sleeping in MY room tonight," Brian said,
establishing his right to a room now he was  almost
resident.

"OK," I replied, only slightly disheartened at the
thought of spending the night alone.

Together we found the bedding, (thank God Paul hadn't
checked the room!), made the bed up and I set the
radio/alarm clock on his bedside table.  He quickly
undressed, had a nominal wash and jumped into bed,
wearing his pyjamas I noted.  He looked just as if he
belonged there and had  used the bed all his life. I
kissed him goodnight, gave him a hug and whispered,
"Welcome home!"

I went to my own room, undressed and climbed into bed,
slightly pissed off because I was alone and knowing
Brian was only a few feet away sleeping soundly. I
picked up a book to read, but after reading the same
paragraph three times, I gave up and tried to sleep.

I woke up with a start when there was a tap on the
bedroom door in the early hours of the morning.  I
shouted a "come in," and the door opened to reveal a
wide-awake Brian.

"Can't get to sleep," he said sidling into the room.
"Can I sleep with you?"

I held the bed covers back and nodded. Grinning now,
he skipped across to the bedside, dropped his pyjamas
and slid in alongside me, now clad in only his
underpants.

I welcomed him with my open arms into which he
snuggled comfortably with his back to me.  I suddenly
felt a lot better: I hadn't realised quite how much
I'd missed him, even for these couple of hours.  I
kissed him on the forehead and stroked his hair.

"Mmmmmm," he said dozily, "That's nice."

Once he'd got warmed up he put his hands under the
bedclothes and wriggled out of his pants, "That's
better. Can I take yours off?"

I nodded my head and before I knew what was happening,
Brian had dived under the sheet, grabbed my pants and
took them off.  Before he surfaced I felt him grasp my
rapidly hardening cock and give it a squeeze or two
before licking it like a lollipop. When he came out,
he had a wicked grin on his face and kissed me on the
lips lightly before snuggling up once more with his
back to me.  With one hand he reached over to my groin
and rested my now solid cock between the his cheeks,
his other hand gently holding his own erection.  I
sighed contentedly and played with his nipples,
eliciting first giggles and then deeply satisfied
moans.

He was obviously in a playful mood as he started to
wriggle and squirm his butt around my now profusely
leaking cock, burying it deeper and deeper between his
cheeks.  He was also masturbating himself at the same
time, giving himself a few rapid strokes and then
several slow, easy ones, his body trembling against
mine.  When his breathing quickened, I knew he was
about to cum and I tightened my hold of him as his
little hand shot up and down his shaft, urging the
boiling fluid in his balls to start its short journey.
His butt cheeks clenched together and with a loud
groan, his body stiffened and I felt it spasm four or
five times as he climaxed.  Without a seconds pause,
he whipped his cum-filled hand over his back and
covered my cock with the lovely, warm fluid.

"Quick," he said, "Put it in."

He pointed my cock at his already relaxed hole and as
I eased forwards, he pushed back.  It went in
instantly, and as deep as it was able.

"Aaaahhhhh!" he sighed. "Perfect."  We lay there on
our sides, my throbbing dick embedded inside him,
Brian's hand on my butt, adding to the pressure.

"That was easy," I whispered in his ear.

"I've had my fingers up there for the past hour,
thinking of you," he said without a trace of humour.
"That's why I couldn't sleep."

I began to thrust myself back and forth, increasing
the motion slowly.

"Wait," he gasped, "Stop a minute."

I rested, buried in him to the hilt.

"Let me get down underneath you and you can do it
properly then."

With some difficulty we re-arranged ourselves without
my having to pull out, and once we were comfortable,
Brian rested his forehead on his arms and whispered,
"Go on. Now do it. Properly."

I pulled back as far as I was able, my dickhead coming
to rest just inside his sphincter before thrusting
downwards, slowly and carefully.
"Faster. Harder." he moaned. "Do it properly."

I lifted myself up on my arms and did as I was told.
Each stroke was delivered forcefully and passionately
with as much strength as I could muster. With each
push Brian let out a truly ecstatic moan. "Ugh!  Ugh!
Ugh!  Go on! More!"

I did my very best for him, urging myself deeper and
deeper into him, his hips thrusting back at me with
every stroke.  When I began to feel close to cumming,
I let my body take over, my cock ramming itself in and
out of him like a steam engine, with as much strength
as I had.

I erupted viciously and forcefully, my cum ejecting
with a rarely known strength, six, seven times I
throbbed, each one accompanied by a low growl and a
groan from Brian.

When I'd finished, I collapsed on my back, breathing
deeply.  Brian climbed on top and kissed me hard and
long, his arms locked tightly round my neck, his face
beaded in sweat.  He reminded me of a horse that had
bolted, running for the sheer pleasure of it and
completely unable to stop even if he wanted, which
Brian certainly didn't.  Suddenly, without any warning
he climaxed yet again, his cum uniting us in a
delightful gooey mess.  Then he slowed down and still
breathing heavily gave me one last tongue-entwining
kiss before dropped his head onto my chest.

He was toying idly with the hairs on my chest as he
whispered, "I've never felt like this before."

"Like what?" I answered curiously.

"Like this. Liking somebody so much it seems to hurt
in my tummy. Wanting to be with them all the time. And
knowing they like you as well and want to be with you
just as much."

I didn't know what to say. What could I say? I cuddled
him closer and held him tight. I felt him shivering
and pulled the bedclothes up over us, wrapping them
under his chin.  He lifted his face up to me slowly.
He wasn't shivering; he wasn't cold, he was sobbing,
his eyes red and swollen and the tears running down
his cheeks.

"Hey!" I whispered, "It's OK. Don't panic."

He pulled himself up slightly and rested his cheek
against mine, still clinging on to me, the warm
wetness of his tears now flowing down both our faces.

Grabbing an edge of the sheet I carefully wiped his
tears away and cleaned his face, giving him a peck on
the lips as I did so. Gradually he pulled himself
together and stared into my eyes.  More tears started
to fall, slowly this time and accompanied by a slight
smile.

"Why?" he said, brushing the tears away with the back
of his hand. "Why me?  Why do you want me to live here
with you?"

I thought for a moment before replying, "You said it
yourself.  I like you and you like me, and we enjoy
being together don't we?  So why not?"

"It won't happen though, will it?"

"Why on Earth not?"  I said. He had me worried now.
Was there something he knew that I didn't?

" 'Cause nothing that good ever happens to me.
Whenever I'm happy and things are going OK, then
something always happens to ruin it. It always does
and it will this time, like Stephen this morning."

"No it won't.  You heard what Paul said tonight, you
read the papers, and everything has been arranged.
Nothing can change that now, unless you want it to."

He sniffled a bit, forced a grin and whispered,
"Promise?"

"I promise."

I don't think he believed me entirely, but at least he
calmed down and stopped crying.  We embraced gently
and I watched as he drifted off into a fitful sleep.
I stayed awake for ages, praying that I was right and
knowing I wouldn't relax until he was firmly living
under my roof.

Early the following morning I telephoned Paul on his
mobile while Brian was still sleeping.  He was worried
that something had gone wrong at first, but when I
told him the reason for my call, the relief in his
voice was more than evident.  I explained what Brian
had said about things going wrong for him again, and
that there may possibly be some sort of reaction when
he went home the following Sunday.
We chatted about it for a while, our conversation
ending when Paul said he'd give it some thought and
ring me back later in the day.


Chapter Four.

I was aware that Brian was up and around, and waited
for him to put an appearance in downstairs.  He seemed
to be ages and I was just about to go upstairs and
find him when he came down.

"Any tea going?" he asked brightly. "And cereal? I'm
starving."

"So?  When were you ever anything else? You know where
things are. Help yourself to the cereal and I'll make
the tea."  I was delighted to see he was in a good
mood and there were no after-affects of last night.
"What kept you?" I asked.

He swallowed the mouthful of food he had and said,
"Made the beds, yours and mine, and had a shower."

"Thanks," I replied.  We usually left the bed-making
and cleaning until later in the day, if at all in
fact. Brian was trying to make a point, but exactly
what I wasn't sure, except to establish himself even
more in the home.

We'd finished breakfast, cleared the kitchen and were
deciding what to do for the rest of the day when the
phone rang.  Brian was the nearest to it and looked at
me questioningly.  I nodded at him and he picked the
receiver up.  His face paled as whoever it was
introduced themselves and he handed It to me. It was
Paul.

Brian made to leave the room to give us some privacy,
but I called him back and put an arm round his waist
as I spoke to Paul.  I could almost feel the nervous
tension in Brian as I listened.

After sorting one or two things out, I handed the
phone to Brian, smiling. "For you," I said
unnecessarily.

Once more I looked at Brian as he listened.  The
nervousness disappeared and a smile slowly replaced
the grimace.  Once the receiver had been replaced, he
gave a whoop of joy and launched himself at me,
hugging me round the waist and beaming.
"It's fixed! It's fixed!" he gushed out excitedly,
"I'm coming. I'm really coming."

"Doesn't show," I laughed, staring pointedly at his
groin.

He looked down for an instant, realised what I'd said,
and retorted, "Piss off! I'm not joking. Paul's done
it!"

What's happened in fact was that after I'd spoken with
Paul, we both felt that Brian needed some sort of
confirmation that things indeed were moving, if only
to bolster his self-confidence.  We agree that we
could do two things for him, the first was the 'phone
call. Nothing material had changed, but Brian didn't
know that - he was still moving in the week-end after
next.  The other thing was that when Paul came to
collect Brian on Sunday, he would bring some of his
clothes with him, a sort of first stage moving in.

Brian was as high as a kite after the phone call, and
after suffering a couple of hours of his
hyper-activity, I decided to do something about it.

"Come on," I said, "Let's go shopping."

We drove to the shopping complex about twenty miles
away, partly to avoid the risk of bumping into anyone
we knew in town, and partly because I knew Brian would
enjoy the drive.

What I was looking for really were some bits of
furniture and stuff to complete Brian's room; I'd
never really bothered with it since I moved in apart
from the bed, and it needed wardrobes and cupboards.
Between us we managed to choose something we both
liked, although it was the 'assemble it yourself'
type.  I wasn't looking forward to that!  We also
found some posters Brian fancied, and added those to
our shopping.  After a snack and something to drink,
we hit the department store for some toiletries -tooth
brush, soap and stuff for Brian mainly.  We'd picked
up a shopping basket and had found most of the things
we needed when I realised I'd lost Brian.  Looking
quickly round the shop, I saw him reading the label on
something or other.  Wandering across, I stood behind
him and looked at it. I tapped him on the shoulder and
shook my head, grinning.  He blushed sheepishly and
replaced the tube of KY on the shelf.  "Just looking!"
he grinned. Nevertheless, he'd thrown in a bottle of
baby oil I noticed as I was paying for everything - I
hope the sales assistant didn't have too vivid an
imagination!

Despite the fact that it was mid-evening before we got
back, Brian wanted to assemble the cupboards there and
then and it was only with some difficulty I dissuaded
him, preferring to leave it until Sunday. Scowling at
me playfully, he stomped off to his room and satisfied
himself by putting up his posters., most of which I
was pleased to see were of female pop stars.

We stayed up very late that night, just chatting and
playing cards - we could stay in bed as long as we
liked on Sunday and took advantage of it.  It was well
after one am when Brian yawned and said he was tired
and wanted to go to bed.

"OK, that seems like a good idea. Let's go." I
replied.

I didn't ask him which bed he was going to sleep in, I
left it entirely to him, but wasn't entirely surprised
when he followed me into my room and carefully close
the door behind him. He also drew the curtains, which
we'd never done before as there weren't any houses
overlooking us anyway.  I liked the early morning
sunlight apart from anything else.  He stripped off
casually as if it was something he did every day of
his life, taking no pains to hide himself from me - in
fact If I know Brian he was taking a certain amount of
pernicious delight in it .  Once naked, he suddenly
remembered that he hadn't been to the bathroom and so
scampered off, not bothering to even put a dressing
gown on.

I was already in bed when he came back, laying on my
back and trying to find the page of the book I was
reading.  Brian slithered in beside me, worked his
head under my arm and read the book with me.  We
hadn't spoken a word since we came upstairs - the
routine was by now well-established.  I felt his hand
feel for my cock, which once found was held lightly.
He'd often done this in the past: there wasn't
anything overtly sexual in it, I think he just liked
holding it - 'I can, so I will' sort of thing.

Once I'd read enough, I put the book down and turned
the light out.  The room was instantly in pitch
darkness, which for some reason startled me before I
remembered the curtains were closed.  Brian wrapped
himself round me, one leg thrown over mine and his
head on my shoulder.
"This's my favourite time of day," he murmured as he
wriggled closer. "There's only us in the entire world
- just you and me. Nobody else exists."

I could empathise with him on that: there are days
when I feel exactly the same. There is nothing better
after a gruelling day to climb into bed, turn the
lights out and let the world go hang.

We lay there in silence, enjoying the simple physical
presence of one another neither saying a word. Brian
was still holding my soft dick: I could feel his
equally flaccid one pressing against my thigh: there
was something very comforting about it.

An hour later and we were still awake.  I twisted a
lock of Brian's hair between my fingers and rested a
hand on his chest. He kissed the back of it and closed
his eyes.  Slowly I became aware that his dick was
gradually hardening, stretching out against my leg.

"What you thinking about?" I whispered in his ear.

"Mmmmmmm?" he muttered sleepily.

"Doesn't matter," I replied, "Go back to sleep."

"Wasn't sleeping, I was thinking," he said softly.

"About?"

"Me and you. Nothing special, just sort of thinking
what it'll be like living here. School, and all that
sort of thing. It's going to be good."

"I hope so, but don't forget that you aren't living
here properly yet, you're only being fostered, which
means that they can take you away anytime they want I
suppose.  As Paul said, to live here you have to be
adopted, which will take months, even if they agree to
it."

"Yeah, I know, but it'll happen."

"Sure it will, but in the meantime we've got to make
sure that nothing goes wrong.  Which means you keeping
out of trouble!"   I gave him a squeeze as I said
this, and a smile.
"Yeah, I will. I mean I won't.  I mean that I'll keep
out of trouble."

"Good," I replied. "Now that's settled can we get some
sleep?"

The following morning, Brian was up and around before
eight o'clock, unheard of for a Sunday. I was only
dimly aware that he'd got out of bed, and only came
really awake when he brought breakfast up on a tray.
Balancing the food on the bedside table for a second,
he clambered back into bed and placed the tray
precariously between us.

"That's nice," I mumbled, still half asleep. "What's
brought this on?"

"Nothing. I was awake early and you were still asleep
so I got us breakfast."  He grinned at me, his mouth
full of toast.  "And then we can put those cupboard
things together and do my room out."

I sighed, tousled his hair and drank my tea.  I'd a
feeling that it was going to be a long day.

It took three attempts, several injured fingers and a
swear word or two before the bedroom furniture was
finished.  One day I will learn that it's easier on
the nerves and saves a lot of time buying ready-made
furniture! We were sweaty and sticky by then and in
dire need of a good wash down.

We went to the bathroom together and ran the Jacuzzi,
adding loads of foamy stuff as it filled.. Before long
the room was hot and steamy, just as we liked it.  I
climbed in and sat on the little seat thing as Brian
arranged himself between my legs, leaning back against
my chest.

Lovingly I shampooed his hair and washed his chest and
back, leaving him to sigh contentedly as he relaxed.
His hands, I noticed cradled his semi-erect penis in
his hands which he slowly stroked.  I watched,
fascinated, my own dick gradually rising between us.

He must've felt it growing as he turned round and
winked at me grinning, before returning to his own
little problem.  Not for very long though.  He
squirmed his way round to face me and sat squarely on
my thighs, my dick standing up in front of him.

He locked his eyes on mine and lifted himself up
slightly, just enough to hold my cock in place as he
lowered himself on to it.  Seemingly without any
effort at all he took it all in, only pausing once to
adjust his legs.  Once I was totally embedded inside
him, he put his hands on my shoulders and leaned
forward.

"That's nice!" he whispered in my ear, "Don't do
anything just yet. Let's stay like this."

More than willing to do as he asked, I held him as he
nibbled on my ear and ran his fingers through my hair.
 Once in a while he clenched his butt cheeks together
as if to remind himself that I was still there, at the
same time lifting himself up ever so slightly.  Each
time he moaned and sighed, perfectly happy.

Then, as if he'd just woken up out of a dream, he
started to move up and down, eyes closed and his hands
playing with my nipples.  We moved together for ages,
concentrating on deriving as much pleasure as we could
from our gentle love-making.  My dick throbbed with
the passion two or three times, but with an effort I
managed to stem off the inevitable follow-through
until Brian was ready.
Leaning forward he kissed me deeply and hugged me as
hard as his position would allow.

Then he started to thrust himself up and down
seriously, biting his lips as he did so, and his
fingers gripping my nipples painfully. I could only
take this pressure for a couple of minutes before I
sensed that I wasn't able to hold things back any
longer.  My cock engorged itself just a bit more,
which Brian felt. Still grinning at me like a wild
tiger, he clenched his cheeks together and after three
masterful strokes had me ejaculating rapturously,
coating his guts with my steaming-hot cum.  I shouted
out with the pain and pleasure as I shot my load into
Brian, only dimly aware that he was trembling and
shaking himself
as his cum fired out onto my chest, face and even into
my hair!

I sighed, completely spent as Brian leaned down and
rested on my chest, my softening cock still inside
him.

"That was good," I whispered, "Thank you!"

"Piss off!" he whispered back, "That was for me, not
you!  It's your turn next!"

He half-smiled at me and we kissed, deeply and
tenderly until the cooling water told us it was time
to make a move.

We dried off and wandered into our own rooms to get
dressed.  I was still sorting out my clothes when I
was conscious of Brian standing beside me.  I turned,
and was met by his intense, yet child-like gaze: he
was holding his clothes bundled up his arms without
moving.

"Will you dress me, please?" he said pleadingly.

Wordlessly I took the clothes from him and placed them
on the bed.  I sat on the edge and pulled him between
my legs, reaching out for his pants at the same time.
He leaned on me as he lifted first one leg then the
other so's I could pull them up.  These were followed
by his clean shirt and trousers and lastly his socks
and shoes.

"Thanks!" he smiled when we'd finished.  "That's what
dad's do for their boys, isn't it?"

"Yep," I said, grinning back at him and slapping him
on his butt. "Now go and make some tea while I get
dressed. Unless you want to dress me now!"

"Naah. You're big enough to dress yourself, you're a
man." were his last words as he scuttled off to the
kitchen."


Chapter Five.

It was early evening when the sound of a car pulling
up outside disturbed us. Until then we'd been sat
together on the sofa watching tv, me dozing and Brian
curled up with his thumb in his mouth.  Ever since
we'd had our bath together he'd been acting like a
child: nothing stupid, just being impish.  My guess
was that he was sort of letting himself relax and
behaving like the little boy he never was, knowing he
was in safe and comfortable surroundings. I felt sorry
for him in a way, I don't think he'd ever had much of
a chance to act like that in any of the homes he'd
lived in so far - he'd had to grow up very quickly in
order to survive.

Brian jumped up and ran to the window.

"It's Paul," he said without emotion, "Come to take me
back."  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand
to remove the dribble from his chin and automatically
checked the zip on his trousers.
"Go on then, let him in," I told him as I struggled to
my feet.

Two minutes later Brian was dragging an enormous
suitcase into the living room, followed closely by
Paul.

"It's my clothes and stuff!" Brian said excitedly, "My
things!"

Paul sat down and we both looked at a very happy
Brian, still fighting his suitcase.

"Can I unpack it now?" he said breathlessly.

I looked at Paul and grinned.

"Not now," I said. "It's only the clothes you don't
need at present. Paul's brought them round for you."

"Pleeeeeeease!" he whined, "It won't take long."

"No!" I said, quite firmly.  "You can make us some tea
or coffee though if you like."

Dropping the case and shrugging his shoulders
irritably he went into the kitchen.  Paul took
advantage of his absence and sighed.

"I've had a bastard of a day!" he breathed out, "One
of those days on which everything that could go wrong
has gone wrong! And it's supposed to be my day off."

"Know the feeling," I concurred, sympathising with
him. "Everything alright now?"

"Dunno. I've been out most of the day sorting stuff
out. I'm just on the way back now and I thought I'd
drop his case off and pick up Brian on the way. We've
got a new client who's already kicked off and he's
only been there half  a day.  Steve
some-one-or-other."  He sounded tired.

"Want a drink with your coffee?" I asked.  "Sounds
like you need it."

"Well, I shouldn't really, but what the hell, a small
scotch if you've got one."

I was pouring the drinks when an awful thought struck
me. Steve. Stephen. Stephen what?

Just at that moment Brian came through from the
kitchen; his face was ashen as he slowly put the tray
down on the table and looked at us both.

"Stephen? Stephen who?" he said quietly.

"Oh, shit!" Paul said, looking at Brian. "It can't be.
 What's Stephen's last name?"

"Cox.  Tall, thin and black hair." I said, seriously
worried now.  Brian hadn't moved an inch: I'd never
seen him look so frightened and worried, like a rabbit
caught in the car headlights.

"Hold on, let me make a phone call," Paul said as he
searched for his mobile.

He rang the home and spoke to his deputy and after
just a few seconds listening to half the conversation,
our worst fears were confirmed, there was no doubt
about it.  Brian suddenly let forth a volley of abuse,
burst into tears and ran upstairs sobbing. Paul and I
stared at each other, shocked into silence by Brian's
outburst. We followed him up the stairs and went into
his room where we found him curled up in a ball on his
bed, still crying.  I sat on the bed and hugged him to
me.

"Why?" he said, "Why him? Of all the people in the
fucking world it just had to be him, didn't it.   I
knew everything would go fucking wrong again."

I waited until he calmed down a bit, not knowing what
on Earth we could do to resolve the situation. My only
concern at that point was Brian, who I'd never seen so
upset: for some reason I thought that even given the
fact that he'd had a run-in at school with Steven,
there was something more behind his tears.  Paul took
the opportunity to go back downstairs as I comforted
Brian as best I could. Eventually the tears stopped
and I left him on the bed for a while as I went in
search of Paul.

"Christ!" I said as I sat down, "Where did all that
come from?"

Paul shook his head as he sipped his coffee, he was
obviously deep in thought.  After a while he told me
that they'd taken Stephen into emergency care earlier
that morning after some sort of bust-up at home.
Apparently he'd been in a knife fight in the town and
been arrested, and when he got home had had another
fight with his parents who declared that they'd had
enough of him.

"Brian's right, though," Paul mused. "It'll be hard
for him to live in the same house as Stephen,
especially now."
We were interrupted at this point by Brian's return.
He was still visibly upset, his eyes red and his face
tear-stained. He was also wearing his coat, ready to
go.  Sitting on the edge of the chair, he looked from
one to another of us, his hands clasped in his lap.

I felt desperately sorry for him, the worst part being
that I was helpless to do anything about it. I looked
at Paul for help.

"OK," he sighed, "What's the problem, Brian?  There's
something you're not telling us, isn't there?"

So, Paul had the same feeling I had. There was
something else we weren't aware of.

Brian sat for a few seconds before telling us that
Stephen had been bullying him at school for weeks
before the scene in the classroom, calling him names
and hitting him when no one was around, picking fights
with him and so on.  He'd not said anything to anyone
because he didn't want to be accused of being a
tell-tale or anything, something which in his world
simply wasn't done. Even the other boys in the class
wouldn't forgive him for that, despite the awful
situation he was in.  Both Paul and I empathised with
Brian, all he would succeed in doing was to end up
leaping into the fire from the frying pan.

"Can Brian stay here for the night?" Paul asked.  "I
think that all things considered, he would be better
off here than coming back with me.  I'll try to work
something out tomorrow, but just for now it'd be
simpler if he could sleep here tonight."

I nodded, grateful that at least we'd solved the
problem temporarily.  Brian looked at me, still upset,
not even acknowledging the fact that he was staying
here where he was safe.

Having sorted that out, Paul said that he aught to get
back to the house and deal with their problems and
that he would probably call me tomorrow to let me know
what was going on.  I showed him to the door and
wished him luck.  I thought my job was hard, but his
must be a damn sight worse; on call 24-hours a day,
seven days a week and trying to keep the lid on a gang
of unruly teenagers, not knowing when or why things
got out of hand.

Brian was still sat with his coat on, staring into
space - he hadn't moved an inch. I gently removed his
coat and hung it on the back of a chair.  Without any
resistance at all he allowed me to take him across to
the sofa where I lay him down with his head in my lap
and stroked his hair. He put his arms round my waist,
hung on tight and closed his eyes.

Sometime later he stirred and gazed up at me,
unsmiling.

"Better now?" I asked.

He nodded and managed a weak smile. I hadn't much of
a clue what to do next, but there was always one thing
guaranteed to cheer a boy up and so I asked if he was
hungry.

That raised a better smile and I pushed him off my lap
and took him to the kitchen.  We explored the freezer,
dug out some beefburgers and had a busy half-hour
making a meal for ourselves.  By the time we'd eaten
it, he was feeling a lot better and even managed to
say how glad he was that he wasn't going back to the
house. The subject of Stephen Cox we tacitly agreed
was a closed book, at least for the time being.

When it came to bed-time, for the first time in ages
it was he who made the first move. Standing up, he
stretched out and announced that he was going upstairs
to bed.  I looked at him and nodded, and said that I'd
be up soon.  An hour later I switched the tv off and
climbed the stairs, curious as to where he'd chosen to
sleep.  I looked in his room first and was only mildly
surprised to see the bed was empty, although he'd
obviously been in it as the bedclothes were all over
the place.

I found him curled up in the middle of my bed,
apparently asleep.

As quietly as I could. I undressed and slid into bed
alongside him, disturbing him as little as possible.
The only sign that he was aware of my presence was
that he cuddled up to me and mumbled something
inaudible as he carried on sleeping. I put an arm over
him and turned the bed-side light out, deciding not to
read my book for a change. Looking down at his
handsome face, I wondered, not for the first time,
just how much he'd suffered in the past without being
able to tell anyone, and what effect it'd had on him.
I kissed him lightly on the forehead and gave him a
very gentle squeeze.  In response he stuck his thumb
in his mouth and sighed.

I had a restless night, thinking about a million
things, mostly concerning Brian. Eventually in the
early hours, I began to put things together which made
some sort of sense.  To begin with I was puzzled by
his inexplicable changes in behaviour, from being an
affectionate, childish 8-year old at times to an
intelligent, wise-beyond-his-years mature young man.
Then it dawned on me that he was in a way re-living
his childhood, but this time knowing he was safe and
secure in a loving environment where he wasn't
subjected to unprovoked verbal or emotional abuse. I
took comfort from the fact that consciously or not, he
felt he was able to be a child when he felt the need
and a normal young teenager when he felt otherwise.
He had a lot of demons to exorcise in his own way, and
only time would allow him to do this.  The best thing
I could do for him was just to be there, and love him
no matter what.  That I knew I was able to do
unconditionally, in fact I suddenly realised, I
couldn't imagine life without him any more.  Turning
over I kissed his sleeping face once more and made my
mind up to make a phone call in the morning, perhaps
the most important one I'd ever make.

I was about to pick up the phone at break the
following morning when I changed my mind about what I
was going to do.  Instead of putting my idea to Paul
over the phone, I would go and see him personally. I
dialled his number and asked if it was possible for me
to come over and see him straight away.  Once I'd
calmed him down and told him that there wasn't a
problem, he agreed.  Fifteen minutes later I was in
his office, feeling surprisingly nervous.

After the usual chit-chat about nothing in particular,
I broached the subject I'd come to talk about.

"How would it be," I started, "If Brian stayed with me
from now onwards and didn't come back here at all?"

I looked anxiously at Paul, wondering how he would
take my suggestion.  It was only a few days before
Brian was coming to stay with me anyway, and I hoped
he was able to see that what I was offering made
sense.  There were probably all sorts of complications
as far as 'the organisation' was concerned, many of
which I didn't have a clue about, but my argument was
the bottom line was that Brian was a very frightened,
nervous boy who needed help now, not when 'the system'
could get round to it.

Paul steepled his hands in front of him and looked
directly at me.  "It'd need a few rules bending," he
said thoughtfully, "But given the situation, I think
we could get round those.  My main concern is Brian's
welfare and under the circumstances he would probably
be at risk here. At least if he was with you, he would
be spared that."  He was now thinking out loud.  "I
could tell the staff he's had some serious problems in
the past with Stephen Cox and that as he's going
anyway, I've decided to move the date forwards. It's
unusual but not unique, it could be done."  Then,
after a moments hesitation added, "Yes. OK then. Let's
do it."

I breathed an immense sigh of relief, and shook Paul's
hand.  "Thanks!" I said, more than pleased at the
outcome of what could have been a very difficult
conversation.

I then saw a side of Paul I'd never seen before.  In
my limited dealings with him, he'd always been relaxed
and easy-going, but now he was work mode.  He picked
the phone up, found his deputy manager and told him
crisply that Brian was being moved out today, that his
belongings were to be packed and his room cleared.  He
then spoke to his secretary and told her to prepare
the paperwork for Brian's move. Then, to my surprise,
said, "Leave the date as it is - for next week-end.
I'll sort that out later."

He grinned at me and said, "It'll make things too
complicated if we bring it forwards without notice.
It's only a couple of days anyway."

Once more I was glad I was dealing with a realist and
not a desk-bound 'jobsworth'.   I thanked him once
more and apologised that I now had to hurry back to
school otherwise I was going to be late.    On the way
out I asked him one more question.  "Will you tell
Brian, or shall I?"

"You can have that pleasure," he laughed. "I'll get
his things sent to school later for you."

I was due to teach Brian the last lesson that
afternoon, but wanted to tell him before then in some
sort of privacy.  Unfortunately as soon as I got back
to school I got involved in some disciplinary problem
with one of my charges and I missed the chance of
talking to Brian at lunch-time.  I was also distracted
by the arrival of Paul's deputy with his baggage.  We
took it to my room and lay it in the corner.  I was a
bit saddened as I realised that the suitcase, carrier
bag and bin-liner dumped unceremoniously in the corner
held Brian's entire world. Shrugging my shoulders, I
promised myself that from now on, he was going to have
a much better life than that.

Before I knew it, the last lesson of the day arrived
and I hadn't had a ghost of a chance of finding Brian
to talk to him.  When the class came bursting in,
everyone took their places and looked at me
expectantly.  Still trying to work out how I could
tell Brian the news, I told them to take out their
reading books and read quietly to themselves for a
while. I'd thought vaguely of taking Brian out of
class for a minute or two and telling him, but I was
forestalled.  Glancing round the classroom, he saw the
pile in the corner and stared at it for a moment.
Slowly he realised what they were and as it dawned on
him what they meant, his expression changed.  He stood
up and looked at me in stoned disbelief, his face
showing a million emotions all at once, all of which
were happy.  He looked from the pile to me, back to
the pile and back to me again.  His arms were hanging
by his side, his fists clenching and unclenching in
utter amazement and sheer unadulterated delight.  I
nodded at him and smiled.

I thought he was going to lose it for a second and
embarrass us both, but with an immense strength of
will he grinned broadly at me and sat down, not taking
his glistening eyes off me for a second.  I'd never
felt as happy before as I did then, his look said
everything I ever wanted and hoped for. I turned my
back on the class for a second to pull myself together
before walking over to Brian and putting a hand on his
shoulder.  I gave him an enormous wink and asked if he
and David would like to put the suitcase and stuff in
my car.

If anyone was to ask me what we did in that lesson, I
wouldn't have a clue.  All I remember is Brian and me
looking at each other every so often and grinning.
When the lesson eventually ended, everyone bolted out
of the door except Brian, who, having made sure the
door was closed, ran to me and hugged me tightly,
looking into my face.

"Today? Now?" was all he could manage to stutter out.


I nodded back at him, unable to speak, sharing his
feelings. He clung on to me even more tightly and gave
me a quick kiss on the cheek, not caring who was
watching.

"Can we go now?  Can I come home now?" he gabbled.
"Please? Take me home."

Who could resist?  Ignoring everybody and everything
else in school for once, I locked my door and
we headed for my car, joining the throng of boys
leaving the building.

Once out of the school, I looked at Brian who was
still grinning like a madman.  "Hold my hand," he
commanded, and before I could say anything he took a
firm and possessive hold of me. He didn't even let go
as I struggled to unlock the car door with my one free
hand, staring almost defiantly at the other boys as
they ambled past staring at us: 'He's mine!' he seemed
to be saying.

On the way home I quickly explained to him what the
arrangements were, but I'm sure he didn't hear a word
I said, he was much too excited.  Once at the house,
he grabbed my keys, opened the front door and held it
open for me, still smiling.  As soon as I was inside,
he closed it behind us and leapt on me, kissing me all
over my face before settling down and giving me a
deep, tongue-twisting one.

I held on to him, returning the kisses one-for-one.
We were home, together, and the rest of the world
could go stuff itself, our new life had started. Now,
I wonder what I did with those adoption papers?

Brian is Different 3 -

Chapter One.

Paul and I kept in close touch over the next few
months, mainly because of Brian of course, but I also
found that I liked him as a man as well.  Like myself,
he had found his niche in life, and although the
material rewards weren't all that great, there was a
certain satisfaction in watching errant boys turn
themselves round and end up being quite reasonable
characters. Not perfect by any means, but then who is?
 We agreed on one basic point which was common to both
our jobs: that if nothing else, we could try and show
the boys that life is what they make it.  If they want
to be villains and rogues then there is nothing we can
do about it, all we can do is show them the
consequences.  Rightly or wrongly, a major part of our
work is telling them about the 11th Commandment -
"Thou shalt not get caught!".  This should be taken to
mean that they shouldn't do anything wrong in the
first place of course, but add that to the other trite
oft-repeated phrase, "If you can't do the time, don't
do the crime", then between the two of them we cover
most bases.

As with Brian, and hopefully many other boys in
similar situations, once they've been shown that there
is a better, more pleasant way of life than the ones
they've had in the past, then they improve by
themselves given time.  In the interim however, life
can be hell for all concerned ......!

Anyway, back Brian.  Paul visited me and Brian once a
week at first, as he promised. Initially they were
official checking-up calls, but after a while they
became more social than anything else especially when
Brian took up swimming and photography as hobbies and
spent a lot of his evenings at one club or another.  I
used to look forward to his visits as we could share a
drink or two in my house in peace and quiet, relaxing
and talking shop mostly.

It was more than pleasing for me to report, honestly,
than Brian had picked up a girl-friend at one of his
clubs.  I chose not to enlighten Paul as to his
reasons, which Brian revealed to me in the early hours
of one morning after we'd had a particularly sleepless
night.  Apparently he'd become aware of one or two
comments being made about him not having a girl-friend
or anything.  There weren't any other sort of
implications or comments made at the time, but Brian
was astute enough to realise that unless he did
something about it, then they wouldn't be long in
coming.  The way he told me was typical of Brian.

As I intimated, we'd not slept much that night and
were resting in each other's arms just holding each
other as we often did when he asked me if I knew a
girl called Karen.  I knew very few girls of Brian's
age as ours was an all-boys school, the only ones I
knew were neighbours who lived nearby.  It turned out
that I knew her by sight as she lived about five
houses away and went to the same swimming club as
Brian.  At first they just travelled to and fro
together, but things being what they are, they soon
became friends.

I had to smile when Brian added quickly, "But there
isn't anything in it though. We're just friends,
that's all. We haven't done anything."

I kissed him on the cheek and said, "What do you think
if I thought you had?"

He paused for a second before replying, "I think you'd
be upset and be worried that I didn't love you any
more."

This was starting to get heavy now, too heavy for this
time of night anyway, but having started the
conversation, we had to see it through.  I looked at
him closely and told him that I was pleased he had a
girl-friend, that he needed one and that it would be
fun for him.  I also explained to him that if the
situation ever arose where he was going to have sex
with her, then provided all the precautions were
taken, then I wouldn't mind: there wasn't anything I
could do about it anyway.

I felt him move at this point and he let go of my dick
which he'd been resting his hand on up until now.
"Sure?" he said seriously. "Wouldn't it mean that I
didn't, you know, love you as much?"

I took a deep breath and forced my brain in gear
properly.  "Have you ever had any fun with another boy
since we've been together?" I asked, stroking his
cheek.

He blushed slightly and didn't answer, which I took to
mean that he had.

"Well, when you did, it wasn't the same as when you
and me do it, was it?"

He shook his head.

"And do you like me any less because you did, or do
you think I would love you less because you did?"

"No. It was only because we sort of felt, you know,
randy sort of and it just happened at swimming once.
It was with ...."

I put a finger on his lips.  "I don't want to know
unless you want to tell me, that sort of thing should
be just between the two of you."

He smiled at me and I felt him relax a little as he
settled down to cuddle me once more.   After a while
he leaned over and kissed me on the lips gently.
There were tears in his eyes.

"What're those for?" I asked as I wiped them away.

"Don't know. It's just that I love you so much that it
hurts inside sometimes and I don't know what to do.  I
couldn't like anybody like I love you, ever. And even
if Karen and me `do it', it wouldn't be as good as
when you and me ....."

The finger came out again and I shut him up.  "Don't
say anything else, Brian," I whispered. "Let's just
see what happens next shall we?  You know I'll always
be here for you, no matter what.  The most important
thing is that you be yourself and don't let other
people tell you what to think or do."

We'd both had enough deep conversation by now and
drifted off to sleep cuddled together, Brian lapsing
into his childish mode with his thumb in his mouth and
head resting on my chest.

We were still in the same position when we woke late
the following morning, the only difference was that we
both had giant erections.  I gently stroked Brian's
beautiful body as I ran the earlier conversation over
in my mind.  He must have been awake as he sighed
contentedly, stuck his tongue out and licked my
nipple.

"That's nice, keep on." he mumbled.

I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.
"Morning, tiger!" I whispered. "You OK?"
"Mmmmmm," he answered without opening his eyes.
"Wanna cum."

Still with his eyes closed, he wriggled himself round
so he was laying across me, his boner standing up
proud and his head on my arm.

Slowly I worked my hand up and down his dick, watching
idly as pre-cum drips from his slit.  There was no
hurry and we were both enjoying the laziness of it
all.  We spent ages like this, in that wonderful
half-asleep, half-awake state, not ever wanting it to
end. But it did.

Suddenly, Brian opened his eyes and looked at me.
"Hurry up," he said, "I gotta go to the toilet!"

I noticed idly that he no longer used `piss' or any
other similar words in my presence, one of the little
ways he'd improved himself.  Pushing this thought to
the back of my mind, I concentrated on bringing Brian
to as quick a climax as I could.  He couldn't stand
being stimulated just under his cockhead: it was
guaranteed to give him the maximum of pleasure and
produce results in double quick time, and this was no
exception.  I felt his butt cheeks clench together and
within three or four strokes he came, his cum shooting
high in the air and dropping like quicksilver onto our
chests.  He'd hardly finished shooting when he leapt
out of bed and ran to the bathroom, holding his
foreskin closed between his finger and thumb.  I
grinned to myself as the little boy-angel hobbled out
of the bedroom, bent double with the urgent need to
find a toilet and stop his cum from dripping onto the
carpet.  I fondled my own semi-rigid cock as I awaited
his return.

He wasn't too long in coming back, walking through the
door with a beaming smile on his face and standing
nakedly upright in the doorframe, his cock still half
hard.

 "That's better!" he said, the relief showing in his
voice.

He didn't come straight back to bed, much to my
surprise; instead he wandered around the room picking
odd things up to look at before replacing them, gently
rubbing his cock as he did so.  I stared at him,
amazed yet again at his beauty, and at his complete
lack of embarrassment: for all I cared he could stay
like that all day and I wouldn't complain once.  As a
sort of finale he stood in front of the window, legs
slightly apart and hands on his waist,  staring at me.
 For whatever reason, he was giving me a show, one
which we both knew was guaranteed to get us aroused.
I continued to admire him, my mouth dry and my hand
now stationary on my dripping cock.  If the thought
Police ever found out what I was thinking, I would end
up in prison for a million years!

Brian wasn't quite finished yet though.  He stepped
gracefully across the room, his eyes locked on mine
every step of the way.  He lifted the bedclothes up,
still staring at me and slid in the bed.  Dropping his
head down to mine, he kissed me hard, wrapping his
arms round my neck and hugging me.  Without once
breaking our kiss, he wormed his way on top of me and
slowly started to work his body up and down,
masturbating himself on my navel.  I folded my arms
round his waist and held him lightly, letting him take
charge. It wasn't long before I was sure he was about
to orgasm as I felt his dick throb a couple of times,
but before he climaxed, he suddenly sat upright and
grasping my red-hot dick in his hand, thrust himself
downwards on it.  I slipped in without any trouble at
all: the little monster had used the baby oil to
lubricate himself whilst in the bathroom!

He moved his hands to my chest and started to play
with my nipples as he slowly rode me, I was in heaven,
 completely and utterly under his spell.  I looked up
at his face, now contorted with passion, his lower lip
firmly gripped between his teeth, eyes screwed tight
shut.  For whatever reason, Brian was doing this for
himself just as much as for me, and I was perfectly
content for him to do whatever he wanted, as long as
he was happy, which he undoubtedly was.

With an urgent passion he began to bounce up and down
on my groin: I gripped him firmly round the waist as
he lost himself completely in his desperate need for
satisfaction.  It only took a few strokes before he
orgasmed, massively and noisily.  He screamed loudly
as we climaxed simultaneously, my moans being drowned
by his feral-like shout.  Completely exhausted, he
fell forwards on top of me, his whole body still
shaking with the exertion of the past few minutes.  He
wasn't quite done yet though; with a last effort, he
fell on my lips and kissed me.

To be honest, I was a bit worried.  I knew, like most
of us, he could be almost aggressively violent in the
throes of passion, but this was different, it was as
if he wanted me to take everything he had; mind, body
and soul, trying somehow to unite us with his love,
both physical and mental.  I lay back, just as spent
as he was.

When he was eventually capable of speech, I gave him a
squeeze and kissed him on the cheeks.

"That was wonderful!" I whispered. "Absolutely
wonderful!"

He half-grinned at me, and took a deep breath.  "Never
felt like that before." he said. "I just couldn't seem
to stop myself.  Look, I even bit myself!"

He was right.  On his lip were little specks of blood
where his teeth had dug in.  I swiped them off with a
finger and licked it off.

"Ughh! Vampire!" he laughed, and tickled me under the
arms.

We were soaking in the bath a few minutes later when
he turned to me and said, out of the blue, "It could
never be as good with Karen, or any one for that
matter."

His tone of voice told me that there was no need for
an answer: he didn't need one.  Instead I lovingly
washed his hair.

The episode was never referred to again, except once
later in the day when he was tidying around upstairs
when he came into the kitchen for some air freshener.
"Don't know what you've been doing, but your bedroom
smells like a brothel," he smirked.  "Not that I'd
know what one smelt like anyway!" He skipped away
before I could think of a suitable reply.


Chapter Two.
Over the next few weeks we slipped into an easy
routine, Brian spending most evenings out with his
friends and most nights in my bed. Not that we had sex
every night of course, neither of us had the stamina
for that, it was simply the closeness and company that
we needed and enjoyed.

The only regular exception was Wednesday nights.  That
was the evening he went swimming with the gang, and
also the night Paul came to visit.  As a rule, Paul
dropped by mid-evening on his way home about eight
o'clock, just about the time Brian came home.  Brian
often brought three or four mates in with him,
including Karen; Paul and I retiring to the lounge as
they fed and watered themselves in the kitchen or in
his bedroom.  Often Paul would stay quite late having
a drink and on these occasions Brian would take
himself off to bed, coming downstairs to say goodnight
to us in his pyjamas and dressing gown - they were
probably the only times he wore them!  He would always
go to his own room to sleep of course, but I would
usually find him crawling in to mine in the early
hours.

I also spent some time in the home which Brian used to
live, apart from anything else it made a change of
scenery for me and allowed Brian some time in the
house alone which he enjoyed, never having had the
experience before.  It was on one of these visits that
the subject of Stephen Cox came up.

Apparently since being suspended from school he had a
home tutor as nowhere else would accept him.  All he
had was the statutory minimum of five hours a week
which was by no means enough to occupy either his mind
or his time. I offered a few ideas as to what else he
could do, even getting him a day's work experience
with a local builder.  I also learned, much to my
amazement, that he also went to the same swimming club
as Brian - something which Brian had never told me.

A day or two later I brought the subject up over tea.
Brian didn't seem at all worried by Stephen's
presence, and even seemed surprised that I thought it
worth mentioning.  When I reminded him about the
problems he'd had with him, he shrugged his shoulders
and said that that was ages ago and it'd long since
been forgotten about. Boys!  I'd spent ages worrying
over what would happen if ever they met in the street!
 When I asked why he'd never brought him back here, he
simply said that he had to be back at the home by
eight o'clock as he was still under a night-time
curfew, and other than this there was no particular
reason.

It was rapidly approaching Brian's 14th birthday and
I'd promised him a party, a special one as it was also
the same month as the adoption should be approved.  I
had spoken about adoption to Brian several times and
it didn't seem to bother him in the slightest: he
couldn't see what difference it would make to his
present situation. Once I'd explained that adoption
meant that I was legally his guardian from that point
onwards, and that social services, or anyone else for
that matter, would no longer have any input to his
life, he perked up and took more of an interest.  His
first question threw me completely.

"Does that mean I got to change my name?" he queried.

I couldn't work out where he was coming from with that
one, his face not giving me a clue as to what his
thoughts were.  Over the months he'd been living with
me, there had been a noticeable change in his attitude
to his parents. Whereas at first he'd despised and
even hated them for what they'd done to him, once he'd
settled in with me, he gradually came to terms with it
and even felt sympathy for them in a way as he
realised it must have been heart-breaking for them to
give him up, no matter what the circumstances.

I wasn't at all sure of the legal situation with this
one.  I knew that under English law, you could call
yourself whatever you liked, but your legal `given
name' was that on your birth certificate. Whether you
could change your name on things like passports and
driving licenses I hadn't a clue - that was a question
Paul could answer for me. Quite honestly I was against
him changing his name. In my view by doing that you
are denying the very existence of the people that
brought you into this world and that somehow seemed
immoral and very wrong.   In the meanwhile though I
thought I'd play it safe and told him that I thought
he had to keep the name he was born with.  He looked a
bit downcast at that, but quickly cheered up when the
subject of the party was brought up again.

Between us we decided that we would have a biggish
party on the Saturday at Pizza Hut for all his
friends, followed by a small, more select get-together
at home for his close friends on his proper birthday
which was on the following Monday.    I left him
working on his list of invitations whilst I went to
have an evening with Paul.

I learned from him that changing your family name was
easier than I thought, especially at Brian's age as he
wasn't actually of legal adult age yet.  All we had to
do was swear some sort of legal statement with a
solicitor and that was it. The only proviso was that
you could never deny having been known as whatever
name you had before.  That sounded quite simple and
straightforward.

When I got home, the house was in darkness and Brian
was already in bed reading - his own bed for a change.
 I made myself a hot drink and climbed the stairs,
feeling tired.  Poking my head round Brian's door to
make sure he was OK, I was welcomed with a bright
smile and a chirpy "Hiya!". We wished each other
goodnight and I went to my own room.

I'd only been in bed a few minutes and was
half-watching the late night news on tv when Brian
appeared, holding a book in one hand and some biscuits
in the other.  Wordlessly he climbed into bed and gave
me a peck in the cheek.  Once curled up against me he
continued reading his book, thumb in his mouth.

I was just about to drop off to sleep when he put his
book down and said, "I'm going to change my name to
yours when I'm adopted."

I looked at him, instantly wide awake again.

"Why?" I asked. "Keep the one you've got, I like it.
Baxter is OK."

I felt him stiffen slightly alongside me as he
continued, "I checked it out on the internet whilst
you were out, and I can change it to whatever I like
and you can't stop me."

He said this with such force that it made me jump; he
was never this assertive as a rule.

"But ....." I started to say.

"Fuck you!" he suddenly said, "I AM going to change my
name whether you want me to or not.  What's wrong with
it? I WANT to change it."

Without further ado he burst into tears and ran out of
the room into his, slamming his bedroom door behind
him.

I lay there for a few moments, stunned with the speed
at which things had changed. Shit! I thought, now what
have I done?  Taking a deep breath I got out of bed,
put my dressing gown on and went to his room.
Knocking on the door I heard a bad-tempered "What?"
Slowly I opened the door and asked if I could come in.
 He nodded sullenly before turning his back on me.

"What's the problem?" I asked, being careful not to
touch him.

"You don't understand," he sobbed.

"What?" I asked, puzzled.

"I want to change my name. I live here now, with you
and it was my choice as much as yours.  I want to be
your son and you won't let me."

So that was it.  I'd been incredibly stupid and
selfish. He was right, at least in his own view, which
was just as valid as mine - probably more so in this
case.  I started to explain why I thought he should
keep his own name, but he shut me up.

"I know all that, you've told me before. But it's me
and you now, not my mum and dad. I don't even know who
they are.  Everyone knows me and you, and I want us to
have the same name like everyone else.  Why won't you
let us?"

He'd won, or at least persuaded me.  If that was what
he wanted and it meant so much to him, then that was
what he'd get.  Oddly enough, having made my mind up,
or having it made up for me, I felt proud of him. And
chastened at the same time.

"OK," I said. "Then that's what we'll do. I'm sorry I
upset you so much, I didn't think.  I'd like it very
much if we had the same name and became a proper
father and son."

He turned over and wiped the tears away. "Promise?" he
whispered.

"Of course. We'll do it as soon as the papers are
through."

"Brian Michael Anderson," he said to himself. "Yeah. I
like that. Brian Michael Anderson."

I did too.


Chapter Three.

It caused quite a stir at school when Brian started to
change the name on all his books and things from Brian
M. Baxter to Brian M. Anderson - not that it was in
anyway official yet, but he wasn't going to let a
little thing like that get in his way.  From that day
onwards he was known as Brian Anderson and simply
refused to answer to anything else.

Seven days later, Brian and I had a summons to attend
court for the official adoption proceedings.  It was
an bit of an ordeal for both of us as this was the
last hurdle we had to overcome and until the papers
were signed by the judge, things still had a chance of
going wrong.  It was even more of a stress when, to my
surprise, the judge put his pen down, stared round the
court room and asked if there were any objections to
my adoption Brian.  We hadn't been warned that he
would do this, and I felt Brian grab my hand and grip
it as tight as he could, staring at me in disbelief.
How long we sat there in shocked silence, I have no
idea. I swear our hearts stopped beating until after
an eternity, the judge said, "Very well then." and
signed the papers.  In fact the whole procedure had
taken less than twenty minutes, twenty minutes which
lasted a lifetime.

We left the courtroom in a daze, only coming down to
Earth when my solicitor handed me the adoption papers
and shook my hand.  I stuffed them in my pocket and
looked at the second file he had in his hand.

"I don't know whether you want to sign these now or
not," he said trying his best to hide a smile. I knew
what they were, but Brian hadn't a clue.

I sighed dramatically and took them from him.
"They're not mine, they're for someone called Brian
Michael Anderson," I said, handing them back to him.

Brian looked from one to the other of us, completely
at a loss.

"Oh, sorry," the solicitor said, "They must be for
this young man then."

He gave the single sheet of paper to Brian who skimmed
through it, his face breaking out into a broad grin as
he realised what they were.  "What do I do?" he said
breathlessly.

Moving across to a small table, the solicitor took his
pen out, handed it to Brian and said, "Sign your old
name there, and your new one here."

Brian scrawled his two names on the paper.  The
solicitor counter-signed the form, I added my name as
witness, and the job was done.  The young man in front
of us was now my son both legally and by name.  Courts
are not the most cheerful places in the world, and I
was acutely aware of the fact that for once they'd
made two people very, very happy. I was certain that
there would be nobody leaving that building today as
grateful for them as we were.  The solicitor stood up,
shook my hand and Brian's, and left.  I was almost
knocked off my feet as Brian leapt at me and gave me
the biggest hug ever. I was half-afraid he was going
to kiss me as well, but somehow he managed to restrain
himself thank goodness.

Our celebrations were interrupted as I felt a hand on
my shoulder.  I turned round to see Paul standing
there, grinning just as broadly as Brian.

"I just had to come and see what happened," he smiled.
"This's what makes my job worthwhile.
Congratulations."  He shook my hand and gave Brian a
hug.  "You OK now?" he said, looking at Brian.

"Yeah. And I changed my name as well. Look." He thrust
the affidavit form in front of Paul who read it
carefully.

"I see. Well done, Mr. Anderson." He bowed slightly
and grinned once more.  "Right." he said brightly,
"Let's go celebrate.  Lunch's on me."  He chose not to
remind Brian that his name was already on the form as
his former guardian.

We got home late that afternoon, having had a very
good lunch at Social Services expense, Paul taking
great delight in informing us that that would be the
last expense the services would have on the former
Brian Michael Baxter, from now on Brian was totally my
responsibility.

Brian, naturally was as high as a kite and couldn't
settle down to anything for more than thirty seconds.
I even felt tired just watching him bounce around the
house. In desperation I drew the curtains although it
was nowhere near dusk yet, put a video on the tv and
persuaded Brian to join me on the sofa. Within a few
minutes, Brian had calmed down a bit and stretched
out, his feet on the arm of the sofa and his head in
my lap.

"Hiya, dad!" he smirked at me, taking his thumb out of
his mouth for a second.

"Hiya, son!" I grinned back, running my fingers
through his hair.

Despite the excitement of the day, tomorrow was still
a working day and we had to get some sleep in at some
point. Around midnight, I dug Brian in the ribs and
reminded him it was way past our bedtime. For once he
didn't argue as he stood up and yawned. He leaned over
to kiss me and was about to say something, but before
he opened his mouth I put my hand across it and said,
"I know. Don't say anything."  I knew how he felt and
roughly what he was going to say.  The peace and
solitude we'd had the past few hours said everything
which had to be said.

"Only one thing I've got to tell you," I started to
say. Waiting until I had his full attention, I carried
on, "Fathers and sons don't share the same bed. From
now on you sleep in your own room."

His face was a picture: for a moment I thought my
attempt at humour had backfired again and I'd upset
him.  Slowly a wicked leer grew on his face as he
realised I was having fun with him.

"Stuff you. I'll race you upstairs, first in the bed
keeps it, old man!"

He had a head start on me of course, and by the time I
reached my room he was already in bed, albeit still
fully dressed.

"OK, you win," I said, "but I'm not getting into bed
with you fully dressed."

"No problem!" he laughed, and proceeded to undress
himself under the bedclothes.  He knew me well enough
to realise that I'd probably hog all the bedclothes if
he got out of it.

It didn't take very long for us both to drop off to
sleep; it'd been a long day for us, and a tiring one
as well.  Neither of us stirred until the alarm went
off at seven the following morning.

Chapter Four.

The day of the pizza party came far quicker than we
expected and we spent the whole day arranging things.
Brian, for some reason, had picked up a not altogether
unreasonable idea that instead of getting little
presents from everyone, he wanted to give them all
something himself.  I said that I thought it was a
good idea and helped him pick out lots of little gifts
for everyone he'd invited.  Whilst we were out
shopping for them, he once again amazed me with his
talent for doing the unexpected.

"These aren't really for my birthday," he said
thoughtfully.  "Well, I suppose they are really, but
not like ordinary ones."

"What do you mean?" I asked, curiously.

"Well, I was thinking. It's really like being born
again in a funny sort of way.  I'll be 14 on Monday
and I've got a new dad, a new name and a new age.
It's sort of like being born again. Re-in ..... re-en
...?"

"Reincarnation?" I prompted.

"Yeah. That's it. Reincarnation.  It's like being
given a second chance and starting all over."

On the way home I mused once more how much he'd grown
up, and more important than that, how he was maturing
into a bright, considerate young man, a son anyone
would be proud to love.  Not that I would tell him
that of course, he already knew it.

One of the guests he'd invited to the party was
Stephen Cox.  When I expressed my surprise at his
being included, Brian said that he'd invited all the
swimming club people and that included him; as far as
he was concerned there was no need to exclude him.  I
was even more surprised when Stephen gave Brian a new
wallet for his birthday, and not a cheap one either.
In return, Brian gave him a small gift-wrapped parcel
which I noticed had been kept on one side, obviously
intended for a particular person. I was particularly
interested who he gave it to because I knew what it
was: a pair of bright red briefs he'd bought. I'd
assumed they were for himself at the time, but when I
saw him wrap them, I became curious.

I longed to ask him who they were for, but didn't
dare.  I guessed that they were for the boy he told me
he'd `messed about with' once or twice.  That didn't
worry me in the slightest, in fact I thought it was a
nice present: I was simply being nosey.   When the
gifts were exchanged I noticed an eye contact which I
knew from experience said a great deal more than the
words did.  Inwardly I sighed as once more as the
strange working of  adolescent brains threw me.

On reflection I was glad that Stephen and Brian were
friends, although I wasn't too happy with their
apparent closeness. I still didn't trust him, or like
him very much. Nevertheless I spoke to Paul the
following day and told him that Brian was now friendly
with Stephen, the past having been forgotten about.
Paul was grateful for the information and in fact
agreed that Stephen could come to the other smaller
party for Brian provided that I took him home
afterwards.  The only little problem I had now was how
to tell Brian.
Not being able to think of anything subtle, I decided
the direct approach was best.  When we were sat
watching tv that evening, I told Brian that I'd been
to see Paul and how pleased he was that Stephen seemed
to be improving.

"Yeah," Brian said non-committally, although I could
tell he was interested.

"Yes," I continued. "And Paul says he's allowed out at
night now, provided he knows where he is and what he's
doing."

That got Brian's undivided attention and he turned to
look at me, knowing there was more to come.

"Would you like him to come to your party on Monday?"
I asked, looking straight at him.

Brian knew exactly what I was saying. I was
acknowledging their friendship and giving tacit
approval to it.

"You know don't you?" he whispered.

"Me?  I know nothing!" I joked. "Just glad you get
along now is all."

Brian sat for a while, thinking.  "You don't mind?" he
said.

I knew he wasn't just talking about the party.

"He's your friend and I wouldn't dream of telling you
who you can and can't be friendly with. The only thing
I would say to be careful."

"You don't like him much, do you?"

"He's given me no reason to like him," I replied.
"But, if like you say, he's changed then that's OK.
You know him better than I do."

Brian moved to sit beside me, picked my arm up and
draped it across his shoulder, keeping hold of my
hand.  This I'd learned was his way of telling me that
he wanted to have a serious conversation.

"You know he was abused, don't you," he said quietly.

"No, I didn't, but I'm not surprised. That's probably
why he is, or was, so aggressive with everybody."

"Yeah. But it wasn't just being knocked about though.
He was, well, you know, the other as well."

Brian was drawing circles with his finger in the palm
of my hand as he spoke, staring into the distance. He
wasn't finding this conversation easy, but in his own
way was trying to explain Stephen's behaviour.
"But you were abused as well, weren't you?" I
continued.

"Yeah, but that was different. I wasn't forced and I
could always have said `no' I think.  In any case, it
didn't happen very often."

"I see."  A lot of things fell into place and I
suddenly understood where their friendship came from.
I wanted to know how Brian found out, but couldn't
ask, that would be a step too far.  If Brian wanted to
tell me, then he would, but in his own time and in his
own way. "So," I carried on, "You're good friends
now?"

"Sort of.  He's OK.  He's good to be with mostly and
we have some good fun. I think he's just glad to have
someone to talk to sometimes.  Like I used to be."

"Feel sorry for him, then?" I asked.

"Dunno. Sometimes. I used to, but now he's not being
fuc.... messed with anymore then I think he should try
to forget it and start again.  I did."

"Yeah, but you were lucky. You and me got together and
helped each other and we liked each other as well."

A thought suddenly struck me.  If Stephen had shared
his confidences with Brian, how much had Brian told
him?

Brian turned his head to look at me: somehow he'd
sensed what I was thinking and was waiting to see if I
was going to say anything.  After a while I felt him
relax and he whispered, "He knows nothing."

I lifted him up and hugged him.  Lifting his chin up,
I kissed him gently on the lips.  He rested his arms
on my shoulders and kissed me back.  "Thanks for not
asking," he whispered.

We sat quietly for another hour or so before Brian
turned to me and with that evil grin of his said, "I'm
ready for bed. Coming?"  The hand that was feeling
around for my dick left me no choice.

The little party I'd arranged for Monday night was a
very select gathering of Brian's closest friends:
Stephen, Karen, Paul and two of the boys from my class
at school, co-incidentally who were in care as well
although not with Paul.  We had a rather formal meal
for a change although I'd cheated a bit by getting
some outside caterers to provide it for us. It wasn't
every day that Brian and I sat round the dining table
and had a proper sit-down type dinner, and I suspect
it wasn't all than common for the others either.  We
even opened a bottle of wine or two to help things
along.  All in all it was a very good evening all
round.  After we'd eaten Brian was given some nice
gifts from everyone, including a wrist watch from
Paul.  I gave him a new camera, a rather expensive one
in fact, and a signet ring with his name engraved on
it.  After the gifts were given, we all looked at him,
waiting for him to say something: and for the first
time in his life I suspect, he was speechless. I think
it was only Paul and I who knew he was on the verge of
tears, the other's assuming he was just lost for
words.  Eventually he said a few things which went
down well with everyone, most of all Karen and Stephen
who got some special thank-you's.  We played a few
board games after the table was cleared, Karen and
Brian soon losing out and adjourning to watch a video
until we'd all finished.  It was only with a little
surprise that I noticed them coming back into the room
looking a little flushed as we were clearing things
away.  Not long after that the party broke up and
everyone made their way home, well satisfied.

Brian and I took one look at the disaster area that
was once our dining room, shrugged our shoulders and
went upstairs arm in arm.  Once in bed, Brian snuggled
up to me and gave me a hug.

"Got a present for you," he whispered in my ear.  I
kissed him and felt for his dick, which was already
stiff with expectation.

He pushed my hand away and said, "No, not that, silly,
you can have that anytime. It's this."

He reached under the pillow and pulled out a little
purple box which he opened and took out a silver
locket on a chain.  "Here, this's for you."

I took it from him and opened it. Inside were two
little pictures, one of him and one of me.  It was
beautiful: not something for everyday wear of course,
but something to keep and treasure.  I was about to
thank him properly when he giggled and took it back.

"Here," he said, "You haven't seen the best bit yet."
He fumbled with a little catch I'd failed to notice
and the locket sprang apart revealing two little
glass-fronted compartments behind the pictures.  I
stared at them, more than curious as to what was held
inside them. I didn't dare tell him what I thought
they were, but I had no need to.  He broke into a fit
of giggles as he tried to explain what they were.
"Toe nail clippings and hair!" he stumbled out
eventually.

Even for Brian, this was far out. I looked at him
questioningly, not understanding the implications in
the slightest.

"I read somewhere that the Victorians used to keep
things like that with their babies first nail
clippings and hair from their first haircut in them.
It seemed a nice thing to do, so I got one for you.
They ain't my first nail clippings of course, I had to
use my fingers for those, but the hair is from my
first hair cut!"

It took me only a fraction of a second to realise what
he meant.  Still giggling, he lifted the bedcovers up
and showed me his groin.  Right down the middle, above
his cock was the clear signs of a shave. He'd must've
used my razor to shave off a narrow strip of pubic
hair, which he'd put in the locket!  I joined him in
his giggles, kissing him lightly in thanks.

"I don't believe you!" I said, "You're mad. Loveable,
handsome, and delicious, but mad all the same."

We kissed again, more tenderly this time.

When we broke our kiss, he said quietly, but still
with that jovial edge to his voice, "You can keep it
as long as you don't tell anyone where the hair came
from. That's our secret."

I nodded, still not quite believing what he'd done.

"Oh, and just one more thing.  That white stuff
sticking the hair in isn't glue."

I stared at him in absolute disbelief.  He wouldn't.
He couldn't.

"Gotcha!" he laughed. "Gotcha! Gotcha!  It is glue,
honest. But I did think about it though!"

We rolled about the bed laughing and giggling for
ages, happy as happy could be. For once the world was
on our side and it was wonderful.

When we'd calmed down a little, he rested his head on
my chest, catching his breath.  "Got one last present
for you," he said quietly.

"What's that, tiger?" I whispered.

"Me."

He crawled up my chest and kissed me deeply and
lovingly as only he could. It was full of tenderness
and passion: it was all the thanks I needed from him,
it said infinitely more than anything else that had
happened over the past few days.

"Make me cum?" he whispered.

And I did. Twice. First by sucking him off to a
delightful rapid orgasm, and then spending an age with
his adorable dick deep inside me as he slowly proved
his love once more in the way he knew best.
Oh, and we did it again in the early hours just before
we had to get up, but this time I gave him a another
present from me which he accepted with joy and
happiness.

Brian stayed off school that day, apart from the fact
that he was plainly exhausted, the house needed a good
sorting out if ever we were to live in it again.


Chapter Five.

Stephen became a regular member of the after-swimming
group and after a while even became friendlier towards
me once he'd realised that no grudges were born. We
only had one episode which could have been difficult
and that was on his second or third visit.  Brian took
us both into the kitchen and told Stephen in front of
me that I knew about them `messing about together' and
that I was OK with it.  There was a flash of anger in
Stephen's eyes for an instant and I was prepared for a
fight, but it instantly disappeared to be replaced
with a shame-faced bush of embarrassment.  I sat on
the table and looked at them both, not quite knowing
what to say to either of them.  It was Brian who broke
the ice by saying, "I don't keep anything from my dad.
 Well, not very much anyway!" he added, giggling and
looking me straight in the eye. "And I think it's
better he knows so's we don't have to be scared of him
finding out."

This was a new experience for Stephen, unsurprisingly
and he didn't know what to make of it. It wasn't very
subtle of Brian to bring the subject up in the way he
did, but on the other hand, I couldn't think of a
better way and I'd always taught him to face life head
on if he could. At least you had to admire him for
that.  Brian came and sat alongside me on the table.

"Can I tell him the other stuff as well?" Brian said
quietly to Stephen.

Stephen was cornered and I even felt sorry for him for
the first time ever since I'd known him.  He'd been
dropped into an intolerable situation with no easy way
out.  He nodded slightly at Brian who clasped his
hands in his lap and said very quietly, "Stephen was
sexually abused."

That's all he said and all he needed to say at that
time.  At least it was now an open secret between the
three of us.  I took a step towards Stephen and put an
arm round his shoulder.  He didn't move.

"It's alright now though, isn't it?  I mean, it's
stopped hasn't it?"

He nodded, still staring intently at the floor tiles.

"Good. At least it's over then. We won't talk about it
ever again if you don't want to, but now you know that
I know about it, maybe I can help a bit.  If there's
anything you want to ask, come to me or talk to Brian
and between us we might be able to sort things out
somehow."

Stephen glanced up at me and I recognised the look
instantly, I'd seen it a good many times before. We'd
crossed the first hurdle: Stephen knew there was no
need for him to be aggressive or abusive to either me
or Brian any longer. We were on his side.

Opening the `fridge door, I threw each of them a can
of Coke and told them to push off back to the living
room and enjoy themselves.  I joined them five minutes
later, and was glad to see Stephen laughing and joking
with the others as if nothing had ever happened, only
the secretive glance we exchanged was different.  I
sighed inwardly as I realised I'd that just taken on
board another problem which wasn't going to go away
easily.

I must have been severely pre-occupied after this
event because it was only later when Brian and I were
resting on the sofa that he asked me if I'd noticed
Karen wasn't there tonight.  I admitted that I hadn't
noticed and apologised.

"Oh that doesn't matter. It's just that we're not
going out together anymore. Just thought I'd tell you
in case you put your foot in it."

He didn't seem too concerned or pissed off about it,
in fact I think I even detected a note of gladness in
his voice.

"Why? What went wrong?"

He giggled and squirmed in my arms.

"Well, it's sort of funny in a way.  You know the
other night, when we had my party here when she came."

"Yeah." I replied cautiously.

"Well, when we lost out and disappeared for a bit, we
went upstairs to my bedroom."

"Oh, yes," I said now definitely intrigued.

"When we got there, we kissed a bit on my bed and then
she put her hand, you know, down here."

He demonstrated by resting his hand on his groin and
rubbing his dick through his trousers.  "Then she
played with it until it got hard.  I didn't mind that,
it was OK, but then she undid my zip and put her hand
inside and took it out and started to, you know, try
and make me cum."

"Lucky boy!" I grinned.

"No way!" he answered, half-smiling. "You'll never
guess what she did next!"

"What?"

"She took her jeans and knickers off and showed me
her, you know, bits. Then she lay down on my bed and
wanted me to do it to her."

"You're joking!" I said, now well and truly surprised.
"What? In your bedroom while we were downstairs?"

"Yeah. But we didn't cause my dick started to go soft
when I looked down at her. I just didn't want to do
it."

I couldn't tell from the tone of his voice whether he
was disappointed or what, but he didn't seem too
upset.

"Anyway," he carried on, "She got a bit ratty and said
did I want to or not and if I did, hurry up. I told
her that I didn't want to in case you heard us
downstairs or someone came in the room. That made her
really pissed off," he giggled, "and that's when we
came downstairs. She's hardly spoken to me since."

"You weren't upset then?" I asked.

"Naah. It's funny though, I went soft when I was with
her, but I'm getting hard now `cause I'm with you." He
turned up to face me and smiled. "That says something,
doesn't it?"

"Sure," I replied, "You're just a badly adjusted,
mixed-up teenager who doesn't know a good thing when
it offered to him on a plate."

"Piss off!"  he grinned, "You know what I mean."

"Yes. But don't give up on the girls yet."

"OK." he replied and stuck one hand down his trousers
to play with his now full-grown erection and the other
provided a thumb to go in his mouth.

"It's nearly bed-time," I told him a little later.
"Made your mind up where you're sleeping tonight yet?"

"Mmmmmm. Talking about Karen and stuff's made me
horny. With you."

"No chance. If that's how you feel, you'd better sleep
in your own bed and sort your own little problem out."

He didn't even bother to look at me. "No chance,
unless you wanna try sleeping in my bed with me." he
said quietly. Then he giggled again and said, "Wanna
know something?"

"Go on."

"You made me think. I haven't wanked myself off once
since I came to live here."

For some reason we both thought this hilariously funny
and giggled as we started to kiss for a while before
wending our way upstairs to bed.

Things quietened down both on the home and school
fronts for a while and we once more settled down to
the hum-drum routine of day-to-day living.  The
difficulties I expected at school with having my new
son in my own class never materialised once the
initial novelty had worn off and Brian coped
remarkably well with the odd asinine comment he got
from the boys. As he said to me once, what they did or
said to him didn't matter any more, he had a home and
a dad and that was all that mattered.

The only cloud on the horizon was Stephen Cox. Not
that he was a problem, it was just that I thought he
was a time bomb waiting to explode. He started to stay
on a bit after the others had left on their swimming
nights, not to talk so much I think, just to enjoy the
pleasures of a normal home life for as long as he
could.  I also gathered from Brian that their sexual
exploits has dropped to almost zero, which pleased me.
 The start of a major change was when Stephen called
round one evening when he knew Brian was out, claiming
that he'd forgotten. I invited him in nevertheless and
we shared a Coke between us.  There was an
uncomfortable silence for a few minutes until he said
nervously, "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, of course. What is it?"

"How much has Brian told you about me?"

"Nothing apart from what we said in the kitchen. Why?"

"I've told him a bit about what they did to me, but
not everything and it's being getting to me."

I settled back in the chair and steeled myself for a
long evening. "Go on," I invited, feigning a smile and
as must interest as I could muster.

What he told me over the next half-hour shook me to
the core. He went on to say that his parents had split
up when he was about ten years old, and that he was
shuttled from one to the other randomly: when one or
other got fed up with him, he would be moved.
Unfortunately in the middle was a mutual friend of
both parents who kept in touch and acted as go-between
This man had started touching and fondling Stephen
almost from day one. To begin with Stephen didn't know
what to do, and when he summoned up the courage to
tell him mum and dad, they didn't believe him and so
the abuse not only continued but got worse.  Within
two years he was being subject to regular and frequent
serious abuse, details of which he left me to guess
at.

What was even more surprising, and the reason for
Stephen's visit was what happened next.  For whatever
reason the man that had been abusing him had suddenly
left the area, which would have been about 18 months
ago I worked out: Stephen was now nearly 15.

"At first I was glad he'd gone, but then I had no
friends or anyone to talk to and so I started getting
into trouble at school and things." he continued. He
paused, trying to work out what to say next.

"I started going to public toilets and other places
so's I could, you know, do things. I also got money
for doing it as well so I started doing it more and
more."

He took a deep breath and looked at me sadly.  For the
first time I felt sorry for him.  It was obviously
hard for him to talk like this, especially the last
bit.  I also suddenly realised how lonely and mixed up
he was, despite the outward show of bravado and
cockiness, he was a very sad young man.

"Yeah, I said, "But that's all over now, isn't it?" I
found myself sitting next to him and automatically I
put an arm on his shoulder.  This surprised me as much
as it did Stephen and I felt him freeze as I touched
him, but he made no move away from me and after a few
seconds he relaxed enough to carry on.

"Last year I got picked up by the Police for messing
about in the toilets near the station.  They didn't do
anything to me, but told me to stay away from those
places in future. That's when I moved back to my mum's
and came to your school."

"I see," I said, but in fact I didn't see a thing.
"So," I said cautiously, "What's happening now?"

"Fuc... Err ... nothing much." He stopped, and after a
second or two added, "That's why I'm pissed off I
think.  I sort of miss it."

Oddly enough I now understood precisely how he felt;
I'd been through the same thing myself when I was much
younger, although it was by no means as traumatic as
Stephen's experiences. Even Brian hadn't had anything
like it happen to him, although he'd had some bad
times. I also understood the friendship that had grown
between the two boys.  But what could I do next?  What
did he want me to do?

"Does anyone else know all this?" I asked. I was
thinking of Paul and the others at his home.

"No, not really.  My mum knows a bit I think, but she
ain't ever said anything about it."

"Paul and the others?"

"No. Nothing."

"So why tell me?" I said, then instantly regretted it.
It sounded as if I didn't want to know and didn't want
to get involved - the last thing he wanted to hear
just now.

"Sorry!" I said quickly, "Don't answer that. I didn't
mean it to sound the way it did. It's just that it's
all come as a bit of a surprise."

"Yeah. Well.  I thought you might listen and
understand. You and Brian can talk about these things,
but I can't talk to anybody else can I? It doesn't
matter. I'll go."

He began to stand up, but I pressed him down again,
back onto the chair.  "Wait. Let me think for a
minute."

"Can I ask you a direct question?" I said. "You
needn't answer if you don't want, but it might help."

He nodded.

"Are you gay?  No. Don't answer that. Do you think
you're gay? That isn't quite the same question."

"Yeah.  When I first started messing about, I didn't
mind really and after a bit I got to like it.  The
only thing I didn't like was that Tony hurt me every
time he did it, but then I got used to it and didn't
mind.  I must be gay cause I can't seem to stop
wanting to do it."

How or why people started to call people such as
Stephen, or Brian and me for that matter, "Gay", I'll
never understand.  The last thing Stephen felt was
happy.  There certainly isn't anything gay or even
nice about some aspects of the lives of homosexual men
or boys.  I wish there was another, more acceptable
word than `gay', and homosexual is far too clinical
and technical.

"OK," I said after a pause. "We've made a start. Let's
take it from here."  I tried to be as upbeat as I
could and smiled at Stephen. "Now it's all out in the
open, let's try and work something out.  First, thing
is do I call you Stephen or Steve?  You can call me
John if you like."

"Steve."

"Good. Now the next thing.  Do you want me to tell
Paul for you? Or anyone else?"

"No. Not yet. You can tell Brian though if you want."

"OK," I said. "I'll think about that one."  Then an
awful thought struck me.  "You know," I said slowly,
"What you've just told me puts me in rather a delicate
position.  If what you've told me is true, and I don't
disbelieve you, then I'm supposed to inform the Social
Services and the Police don't you?  What that man did
to you, whether you wanted him to or not, was illegal
and a serious offence."

Stephen froze again and stared at me, frightened out
of his wits.  "I didn't know.  I didn't think.
What?....."

"Nothing," I said. "I'm breaking the law myself, but
so far only me and you know about this conversation,
and we can always deny it I suppose if ever we were
asked."

He breathed a sigh of relief and even managed a pale
smile. "Thanks." he said quietly.

"And one more thing.  I shan't say anything to Brian
just yet.  I think you should tell him.  Tell him that
you've been to see me and you've told me everything.
You can trust him, he won't say anything to anyone
else, but it'll mean you have someone else to talk to
apart from me.  Believe me, Brian will understand.
He's been through more than you know, but don't tell
him I told you."

"Thanks." he said again.

"Right. End of conversation," I said. "Let's have a
drink.  Want some tea or coffee?"

"Coffee, please."

Whilst I was in the kitchen I glanced at the clock and
realised that Brian was due home very shortly. I
wasn't sure how he would react to finding Stephen here
when he arrived home and so sent him a quick text
message telling him.  As I was making the drinks, I
got a reply just saying "OK".  At least that was one
possible problem forestalled I thought as I took the
cups to the living room.

We were half-way through our drink when the Brian
bounced in, grinning all over his face.

"Hiya dad!" he said as he threw open the living room
door.

Then he saw Steve, and give him his due, acted as if
he didn't know he was here, looking surprised and
delighted at the same time.

"Oh, hiya Steve!  What you doing here?"

"I forgot you were going out and came round to see
you. Your dad and me have been talking waiting for you
to come back."

"Right," Brian said cheerfully. He gave me a quick
questioning look, and carried on, "You OK?"

"Yeah. Ace," Steve replied. "Look, I gotta be going.
See you tomorrow?"

"Oh. OK then."

They left the room together and were away for nearly
ten minutes, talking quietly in the corridor.  I heard
the front door close and Brian came back, sitting on
the sofa with me.  He looked at me questioningly,
waiting for me to say something.

"What did he tell you?" I asked, looking back at him.

"That he'd told you stuff about himself. What'd
happened to him and what he'd been doing and things."

"So." I said. "What do you think?"

"Dunno. I'd guessed most of it from stuff he'd said,
but I didn't know he'd been caught doing it."

We compared notes on what we'd learned about Steve and
decided that we would try and help him as much as we
could, although neither of us had a clue as to what we
could do.

The subject was dropped as Brian told me about some
photographic exhibition that was being arranged at his
club and we chatted about that until bedtime.  It was
later, when we were in bed that the subject of Steve
came up again.

We were caressing each other gently when Brian said,
"I feel sorry for Steve somehow. Not because he's gay
or anything, but he ain't got no one to talk to. Or be
with," he added smiling and giving me a kiss.

"Mmmm." I replied, kissing him back. "Now there's a
thought. That might help."

Brian nestled against me and wrapped his arms round my
chest.  "Yeah. It would," he said sleepily.

With these thoughts in my mind, I held Brian and
drifted off to sleep.


Chapter Six.

As time went on, Steve became a regular visitor to the
house, dropping by whenever he felt like it. He didn't
seem to mind whether Brian was there or not, although
he never stopped too long when he was out.  One of the
spin-offs was that he almost always came with Paul
whenever he came to call, the two boys taking
themselves off to Brian's room.  Paul thought it was a
good idea that the two boys spent some time together,
and once he knew I didn't mind him calling round
agreed to let things carry on.

I also learned from Brian that he and Steve were also
`messing about' a bit once in a while, although Brian
did take pains to point out that they never did
anything in our home, or that it ever went beyond
mutual jerking off.  When I asked him if Steve had
ever tried to do anything more than that, we got into
a major row, ending up with Brian in tears, angry with
me for even thinking that he would do anything with
anyone else, least of all Stephen.  I felt duly
chastened, but despite my apology, it was three days
before he got over it: they were the worst three days
of my life.

On the subject of Steve, once we were talking again,
Brian said that he was getting better in some ways,
although he still lost his temper once in a while, but
they were still good friends. I also learned that he'd
`been through' most of the other boys in the home,
managing to `have a bit of fun' with most of them, but
as yet he hadn't found anyone he liked enough to
become close with.

Luckily both Brian and I understood Steve's situation
and although we knew what he was doing was wrong,
accepted it as something he couldn't do much about.
We even had an amusing evening discussing all the boys
we knew, trying to pick one out for him.   Along the
way I learned one or two very surprising things about
the boys in my school, several of whom I thought I
knew well.    I even earned several painful digs in
the ribs from Brian when he caught me looking at the
boys we'd discussed.

"You're turning into a dirty old man!" he whispered in
my ear on one occasion in class when he saw me staring
at one particular lad. He grinned cheekily at me as he
walked away, knowing full well that I wasn't able to
say anything back.  We also had a bit of fun `people
watching' once in a while, particularly when we were
in a cafe or shopping mall. It would usually start
with Brian nodding in the direction of an especially
good-looking boy, "Bet he does," he'd giggle and poke
me in the side.
"Rubbish," I'd retort, and finding the most
unappealing man I could would reply, "Naah, he's more
your type."  We would continue this banter until we
had to stop, either because we got the giggles, or
more often, one of us would get a boner.  On more than
one occasion we had to prolong our stay in a cafe
until we were able to leave without embarrassing
ourselves or the natives!

Brian and I were playing the `people watching' game
one Saturday morning when I happened to glance over at
the travel shop and it occurred to me that we'd never
has a holiday together yet.  I'd never bothered in the
past as I was quite content to laze around the house
when school was closed, and Brian I didn't know about.
 I guessed the only one's he'd been on were with
social services, and they would have been quite basic.
 Turning the idea over in my mind, I asked Brian if
he'd ever had a holiday. It turned out I was more or
less right.  The only ones he'd had were in holiday
camps with the other kids in the homes, taken at the
end of season when it was cheap.  Brian, now able to
read my mind like a book, did no more than run across
to the travel shop and grab a handful of brochures.
He dropped them on the table with a broad grin and
started to skim through them.  I could see I'd started
something I would probably live to regret!

When we were idly chatting about it later that
evening, I was surprised to find out that Brian didn't
really like the idea of a `sun and sea'-type holiday,
he was more attracted to the activity type, "But not
too active!" he grinned. "I don't want to come back
looking like Mr Universe!"

We found what seemed to be a reasonable compromise for
us both, satisfying my need for a restful break whilst
at the same time offering a range of different
activities for Brian.  Based in a hotel, you had the
choice of such things as horse-riding, sailing, rock
climbing and so on. Or nothing except the hotel. Even
better, it was in England which meant no hassle with
passports or aeroplanes and so on.  Apart from
anything else, we hadn't as yet bothered to get a
passport for Brian.

In bed that night, Brian was still thinking about the
holiday. He'd brought a note pad with him and was laid
alongside me, making notes.  I watched idly as he
planned a week's activities for himself and worked out
the cost.  At the end of it, he showed me the result,
and to be honest was a little surprised at how
inexpensive it was.  Not cheap by any means, but still
good value.  Mentally shrugging my shoulders, I
realised what had been an off-the-cuff comment had now
got me into a holiday I didn't expect. One day I'll
learn to keep my mouth shut!

"OK, then," I sighed. "Tell me about it."

We went through it together, and after one or two
changes, agreed that it was a good idea.

"Can we book it then?" he said excitedly, bouncing up
on my chest. "Please?  Pretty please?"

I gave in with good grace and nodded my head.

"Brilliant!" he almost shouted. Calming down just a
little, he kissed me quickly on the lips and lay down
on top of me.  "I love you," he said, "Really and
truly."

"Rubbish! It's only my money you want, and a free
holiday!" I grinned back.

"No, it's not," he said, now serious. "You know it
isn't."

He'd changed instantly from the excited, happy boy to
the sensuous, adorable teenager I loved more than
anything in the world.  He knelt astride me, leaned
down and kissed me, his tongue desperately searching
out mine.  I clasped my hands behind his back and
returned the kiss.

"Let's have some fun," he whispered softly. "Can we?"

I nodded, and with a beaming smile, turned round and
presented his beautifully erect dick to my mouth.  As
I absorbed it, I was dimly aware he was busily licking
mine, making sure he gathered up every drop of my
pre-cum and swallowing it.  I gasped as he took me
into his warm, moist mouth and started to work his
tongue round my cockhead, finding that magical spot
which threw me into fits of ecstasy.  I sucked on
Brian's cock for all I was worth, marvelling once
again at its deliciousness.  We kept pace together,
totally immersed up in our mutual pleasuring,
concentrating solely on each other.  No matter how
many times we did this, and it'd been a good many by
now, every time was like the first, and I shivered
with pure delight.

Brian, as usual, came quite quickly and I hungrily
swallowed every drop he gave me.  Unusually though,
this time he didn't pull out, he was still sucking and
licking mine, not pausing at all, hardly noticing he'd
orgasmed.  I sucked a little more on his still rigid
cock and took his last few drops just as I felt myself
start to climax.  "Coming!" I managed to stammer out
of my cock-filled mouth.
He nodded quickly and sucked even harder as I throbbed
and jetted deep into his throat, his tongue and
delicate fingers easing every last miniscule drop out
of me. He also managed to shoot another few drop of
cum into my mouth at the same time.  Just as soon as I
started to soften, he released me and hurriedly
settled himself between my legs.

"Lift up! Quick!" he gasped.  Before I could do
anything, he'd lifted my legs up to his shoulders and
pushed his saliva and cum-slickened dick against my
hole.  With only a little dart of pain, he entered me,
slowly pushing down until he was deep inside me.

"Aaaaagh!" he sighed, "That's good."

After resting for a second, he began to work himself
back and forth, moaning with pleasure on each stroke,
his dick still as hard as steel.  Using its full
length, he thrust backwards and forwards, gently at
first, but soon building up to an urgent and frantic
speed.

"Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!" he stammered out on each thrust.
"Gonna - gonna - cum!" he shouted out breathlessly as
with one last desperate lunge he buried himself deep
inside.

Panting and sweating profusely, he fell on top of me,
eyes glazed.  Clamping his hands over my ears, he
kissed me, painfully hard before collapsing.

"That was good!" he said after a while, "Really good."

I held him gently as he smiled tenderly up at me. "I'm
knackered," he grinned. "Three times. Never done that
before."

"You're wonderful," I sighed. "Wonderful."


The following evening I was honoured with a visit from
Steve, once again without Brian being home. We chatted
as usual about all sorts of things: nothing odd about
that, but there was a definite edge to his voice which
I didn't quite understand.  It wasn't aggressive or
anything, in fact quite the contrary, he seemed rather
more relaxed than normal, but there was a definite
nervous edge to it. He was also rambling on a bit,
like one does in a stressful situation.  What
concerned me most though was the occasional glance he
gave me, one which I was familiar with.  He left after
a while, my unasked questions unanswered.

I mentioned this to Brian when he came home, at least
the conversation part; I didn't tell him about the
looks I was getting.  Brian thought for a while and
then said that he'd try and find out what it was all
about for me.  Why did I have vaguest of feelings that
Brian knew something he wasn't telling me?

It was the following week-end that I found out.  We'd
driven up to the activity centre to have a look round.
 It seemed OK and after a quick chat, made the booking
and started our drive home.  Brian seemed to be in a
pensive sort of mood; curled on  the seat and staring
into space.  He was thinking about something or other
and I left him to it, resting my hand on his waist
once in a while and stroking him.  He wriggled a
couple of time, smiled at me and resumed his thinking.

When he spoke, he shook me rigid.  "You know he
fancies you, don't you?"

"Who? What?" I said, temporarily confused.

"Steve. That's why he came round the other night.
That's why he comes round when I'm not there."

"You're joking," I said, thoroughly taken aback. "I've
never even thought about him like that."

"I know," he said. "We had a talk after he came round
last week and he sort of told me. Not just like that.
Sort of hinting and stuff.  He asked if we ever did
anything."

I almost lost control of the car when I heard this and
Brian sat up.  This was disturbing news to say the
least.

"What did you say?"

"I said he asked if we ever did anything."

"No, not that what did you tell him?"

Brian stared at me for a second before saying,
"Nothing."

I knew I'd asked the wrong question, and although I'd
pissed him off a bit, he soon got over it and carried
on, "I think he might have guessed though. He made
some comment about my bed never being used.  And he
saw a pair of my pants under your bed."

"Christ!" I said vehemently and felt the muscles in my
stomach tighten up.

I glanced over and saw Brian smiling ever so slightly.
 He didn't seem all that concerned and so I relaxed
ever so slightly. At least, I thought, if Brian's not
worried, then there's probably no need for me to worry
too much.

"I just didn't answer him when he asked about you and
me and he sort of smiled a bit and said `lucky
bastard' or something.  I said that whatever we did
was nothing to do with him and not to talk about it
again."

I relaxed a bit more, but was still very apprehensive.
 I knew how dangerous knowledge of that sort was, and
also how spiteful Steve could be. I also knew Steve
could keep secrets, and hoped that this was one of
them.  I voiced my concerns to Brian and he made me
feel a lot better when he told me that if nothing
else, the last thing on Earth Steve would do was talk
about that sort of thing. He was terrified of his own
past being made general knowledge, which it almost
certainly would if he talked about it.
"So what do we do?" I said.

"Not me. You," Brian said.  "I think you should do
something with him. You know."

This time I stopped the car and stared at Brian.  "Are
you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Yeah. You don't mind me messing with him, and I
wouldn't mind you messing with him either." He broke
into a grin as he went on, "As long as you don't go
too far! Or too often!"

I was in no mood for smiling. He could see I was still
very worried and added, "Think about it. First of all
it'd stop him talking about it to anyone else once
he'd done things with you, and secondly he wants to
anyway."

Much as I disliked the idea, the more I thought about
it, the more I thought he was probably right.

"What about you?" I said. "I don't think it's fair to
you. I don't want anybody else except you.  You and me
do it because we love each other, not for some
five-minute gratification or my bloody hormones
playing up!" for some reason I was getting angry, not
made any easier because I didn't know why.

So was Brian.  "Do you know what it's like not being
wanted? Being in care? Nobody talks to you, nobody
takes any notice of you, everything you do is watched,
controlled and supervised. You haven't any control of
your life, you've even got to tell `em when you go for
a fucking piss! Imagine what it's like if you're gay
as well."

I'd never seen Brian so angry before. His face was
bright red with anger, his eyes wide open and staring
at me, his breathing fast and shallow.

"Why do you think I let him wank me once in a while?
Because I want him to?  Because I like it? If that's
all it takes to make his life a little bit better,
then I'd let him do it every day if he wanted."

He stopped to take a breath. "All he wants is a few
minutes with you."

I stared at him, gob smacked.  He was so angry and
frustrated he was on the verge of tears and I felt
awful for not understanding, or even trying to
understand his or Steve's feelings.

"Please?" Brian said, "Please? For me?"

"OK," I sighed.

He cheered up instantly, wiped his face and smiled at
me.

"Thanks," he said. "But you ain't got to enjoy though.
At least not too much!"

I managed to raise a smile and we continued our drive
home in silence.

Bedtimes are always the best times to sort out the
days problems, and later that night Brian walked
through from his room into mine.  He'd started off in
his own bed, our row from earlier in the day still
hanging over us, but like me, he didn't like leaving
things half done, especially domestic arguments.

"Can I get in with you?" he asked, "I can't sleep."

He climbed in beside me and cuddled up. "Sorry about
today," he said. "I didn't mean to get mad with you."

I was pleased he'd got over our row, and even more
pleased he'd had the courage to apologise although we
both knew it was my fault.

"That's alright. I was my fault anyway. I didn't
think."

We kissed each other and got closer. "Do you think it
would help?" I asked.

"Dunno, I think it might. Wouldn't do any harm, would
it?"

Leaving aside the risk of our relationship being
exposed to the world, I had to agree with him. And, I
reasoned, all Steve had to go on really was
circumstantial evidence. I was happier with that now
than I was when I first heard it.  Oddly enough it'd
also brought Brian and me closer together somehow.  I
reached out and rested my hand in his groin, only to
find out he was already hard.

"Who you thinking about? Steve?" I joked.

"Yeah. Like you." he laughed as he squeezed my
hard-on.

We were back to normal, thank God.


Chapter Seven.

"Steve's coming round Tuesday night," Brian said to
me.

"Pardon?" I asked, my mind concentrating on some
marking I was catching up with.

"I said Steve's coming round Tuesday night.  Just got
a text message."

"He always does.  It's swimming night."

"No. He's not going swimming, he's coming to see you."
We looked at each other, Brian giving me one of his
infuriating half-smiles, which said firmly that the
ball was in my court. I tried one last desperate time
to extricate myself from the situation.

"Why?" I asked.

All that got me was another `you're not that stupid'
look from Brian and the same evil leer.

I stuck my tongue out at him, returned the grin and
went back to my marking.

Tuesday evening. Brian had left to go to his club
leaving me alone in the house awaiting my visitor,
hoping against hope that he'd changed his mind and
wasn't going to turn up.  Nevertheless I found myself
checking that I was presentable, the house was tidy
and there was some Coke in the fridge. Putting it down
to nerves, I made myself sit down and try to relax by
watching the tv.  After fifteen minutes I wasn't aware
of anything I'd seen and was startled by the front
door bell.

Steve was dressed in T-shirt and shorts and carrying
his swimming things under his arm which I assumed he'd
brought with him so as not to create any questions at
home.

"Come in," I said. "Everything OK?"

"Yeah, fine," he said and waved his things at me.
"Sorry about this, but if I don't go swimming, I can't
get out at all."

He'd just reminded me of something Brian had said to
me about being in care and the control they had over
you. I felt sorry for him, having to lie just to get
out of the house.  As we sat down on the sofa, I
looked at him properly for the first time ever, not as
a pupil, not as a friend of Brian's; but as a person,
an individual.  He was about five foot eight or nine I
guessed, an inch or two taller than Brian. He was thin
for his height, but not skinny. His arms and legs were
covered in fine downy hair, the same mousy-brown as
his head. I realised that he wasn't in fact bad
looking. Involuntarily I glanced down at his groin,
his shorts hiding very little now he was sat down. He
seemed to be reasonably well built down there too.

I was broken out of my reverie by a cough.  "Oh,
sorry," I mumbled. "I was miles away" I felt myself
colour up and to cover my confusion, asked him if he
wanted a Coke.

"Yes, please.  I'll get it if you like."

I nodded, conscious that I was beginning to get hard
already, the sight of him and the reason for his
presence doing their work.  I wondered if Brian had
said anything to him about tonight, or was he leaving
it entirely to us.  Knowing Brian, I would guess if
he'd said anything, it would only be a subtle hint and
not an outright `it's there if you want it' sort of
thing.

When Steve returned, things had developed in his groin
too, and carrying two tines of Coke, he had little
chance of hiding it, especially in his shorts.
As he sat down, he adjusted his dick, making sure I
saw him do it.  "Sorry about this," he said without
any trace of embarrassment, "It's always happening."

I took a sip of my Coke as he looked me over, almost
certainly eyeing my own semi-erection in the process.

Taking a sip from the tin, he glanced at me again and
said, "Nice!" he waved the tin at me, but he wasn't
thinking about the Coke. There was that look again.

"Yeah, isn't it." I said, leaving him to work out what
I meant. "So. How's things?"

"Oh, OK I guess. Not much happening these days. I
can't get out all that much and there's not a lot to
do at the house."

He adjusted his dick again, folding the material of
his shorts round his now solid boner.

In desperation to push the conversation along, I asked
if he wanted to watch a video for a while.

"Yeah, that's a good idea. What you got?"

I pointed the shelves out to him and invited him to
choose whichever one he wanted.  After a few minutes
he picked out a horror movie with an 18 certificate.

"Can I watch this?"

I nodded and watched as he put it in the video and
turned it on.  Without asking, he went across and
turned the main lights out, leaving the room lit only
by the glow from the tv.  I said nothing, and still
said nothing when he sat close to me on the sofa.
Whatever questions I had about how to get things going
with him were dispelled: it appears that he was
seducing me as much as me him.  I smiled inwardly and
lay back to watch the film.

"I like watching them in the dark, it make them
better," he said as he moved a bit closer. "Don't
mind, do you?"

"No, not at all. I think you're right," I answered,
laying my arm along the back of the sofa, almost
resting on his shoulders.

He reached up, pulled my arm down and held onto my
hand.  When he glanced at me, I smiled back and gave
him a gentle squeeze to let him know it was OK.  He
smiled back at me, now completely at ease.  I didn't
object either when his other hand rested on my thigh,
his fingers pressing gently inside it.  Sliding down
the seat a little, I opened my legs wider, allowing
his easier access. This wasn't the first time he'd
done this, I thought.

I stroked his chest and arm as we played our game. I
was beginning to enjoy myself.  His fingers were
creeping closer and closer to my crotch, each time
they moved up, I squeezed him a little more.  Only
once did he look at me during our game and I smiled
back at him.  We both knew the score.

"It's hot in here. Can I take my T-shirt off?" he
asked.

"Yeah, of course if you want. Here, let me help."  He
leaned forwards as between us we pulled his shirt up
over his head to reveal a hairless but surprisingly
muscular chest with golden brown nipples.

"That's better," he sighed.  He put his hand back in
my groin, this time with his fingers pressing against
my dick.

I fingered his nipples, which within seconds became
solidly erect and warm to the touch.  He sighed softly
and took a firmer grip of my dick, rubbing it up and
down just a few fractions of an inch, and with one
finger tracing over my cockhead.

Taking his hand away for a second, he dropped it onto
my navel and worked his fingers under the waistband of
my trousers.  Even when I breathed in, there wasn't
enough room to get his hand down all the way, his
fingers just getting as far as my pubic hair.

"Wanna take `em off?" he whispered.

I nodded and unfastened my belt and slid the zip down.
 As I stood up to take them off, he slid his own
shorts down and stepped out of them.  He was now naked
in front of me, his dick standing out horizontally in
front of him.  It was slightly thinner than Brian's,
but a lot longer, almost seven inches I judged, and he
had a lot more hair that Brian - but then he was
almost a year older. He was also circumcised, unlike
Brian.  I stared at it, watching as it throbbed
slightly in time with his heart. Glancing up at his
face as I moved my hand towards him, he was smiling
down at me, enjoying showing himself off.  I pulled
him back down to the sofa and stretched my legs out
straight.  Wrapping his hand round my cock he gazed at
it as he slowly started to masturbate me.  I returned
the favour, moaning as I felt every little fibre of
its throbbing heat. It was good. More than good, it
was fabulous.

"Let's get on the floor," he whispered to me.

Without letting go of each other, we slid down onto
the carpet and lay alongside each other, staring at
out hands as they did their work.  Steve was certainly
good at this, his experiences, good or bad, had made
him an expert.  Not only was he exciting me more than
I thought he could, he was obviously enjoying my
attentions in a big way. He was moaning and sighing as
he wanked me off, spending as much time playing with
my balls as with my cock.

Once in a while he would leave off masturbating me and
run his hands over my chest, around my waist and as
far round my back as he could.  He began to kiss my
nipples and chest, licking his way down to my groin.
At one point he leaned up as if he was going to try
and kiss me, but I gently pushed his head down and
without complaint continued his downward trail.  Two
or three times I was within an ace of cumming, but
each time he paused, licked me a few times and started
again once I'd calmed down a bit.  There was no way
could I match him for technique, he was far more
experienced than me for one thing and for another, he
was getting as much pleasure out of fondling me as I
was. He didn't even seem to notice when I stopped
wanking him for a few moments as I backed off from
another climax.  There was no wonder Brian didn't mind
`messing about' with him once in a while - he was an
expert!

After the third time he stopped me from cumming, I
heard myself plead with him to finish the job - I just
couldn't take any more of it.  He leered at me,
grinning broadly and stuck his mouth over my aching
dick and with a combination of delightfully erotic
fingering and unbelievable sucking, I shot my load
straight into his waiting mouth.  Eagerly he swallowed
every last drop, and just as he did, he shot his own
load high in the air.  It wasn't my doing in the
slightest, all I was doing was holding it as I
climaxed - he came without any effort on my part at
all!

"Jesus!" I cried out as he rose to his knees. "That
was awesome! How'd you ever learn how to do that?"
Another stupid question.

"Experience!" he grinned.  "Did you like it?"

"Yeah, Jesus, did I!" I said, still breathless.  He
leaned over to kiss me, but once more I turned away.
This time he got the message and satisfied himself
with kissing both my nipples instead.  We lay there
for a few more minutes caressing each other, him
toying with my flaccid dick, me fondling his still
hard boner.  I was about to suggest that we stopped to
get ourselves cleaned up when he gasped out, "No,
don't stop, keep going, I'm nearly there!"

I picked up speed again and after a few strokes
watched as once again he spasmed out six or seven
enormous globs of cum, this time ending up on my shirt
and his chest.  This time, even he was satiated and he
fell back on the carpet, breathing deeply, his cock
now softly laying against his empty balls.

"Christ!" he whispered. "It's not often I can do
that."

I grinned back at him, ruffled his hair and stood up
to retrieve my clothes.  After five minutes cleaning
up, we sat down on the sofa, smiling at each other.

"Air freshener!" he suddenly said, still grinning.
"We'd better do something before they get back."

This, more than anything else finally convinced me
that what we'd just done was for our own pleasure and
Steve's need, not part of any plot or something. I
grinned happily at him and gave the room a good spray.


Half an hour later the gang arrived.  By now Steve and
I were sat in different chairs, properly dressed and
watching tv.  I looked at Brian as he came through the
door.  One sniff of the atmosphere told him all he
needed to know. He stuck the tip of his tongue out,
gave me an enormous wink and sat on the floor
cross-legged grinning stupidly.
After they'd all gone, Brian went upstairs and got
himself ready for bed. He came back into the living
room wearing his rarely-worn pyjamas and carrying a
couple of drinks for us.  He sat himself down on my
knee and hugged me.  Big as he was, he wasn't above
wanting a bit of TLC once in a while and he liked
nothing better than to sit on my lap having a cuddle.

"So, he grinned, "How'd it go?"

"Our secret," I said. "I don't tell anyone about you,
so I'm not telling you about Steve."

"Aww, come on. Please?"  He stuck his tongue in my ear
and began to tickle.  He knew this drove me wild and I
gave in instantly.

I gave him a quick resume of what'd happened,
including the fact that he'd seduced me before I even
had a chance to do anything.  Brian thought this
hilarious and through the giggle said, "Gives an
amazing BJ doesn't he."

I laughed and said, "Yes. Incredible.  You could learn
a thing or two from him."

Brian wasn't fazed at all, he instantly replied, "I'm
trying. I'm trying!"

"Honestly though," he went on, "Did it go alright?"

"Yes," I said somewhat more seriously. "No problems.
He'll probably tell you all about it himself
sometime."

"Great.  Gonna do it again?"

"Crikey Brian! How the hell am I supposed to answer
that?  I don't know. Perhaps Steve won't want to.
Perhaps I don't want to."  Then I added significantly,
"Perhaps you don't want me to."

"I've been thinking about that. I don't mind,
honestly. It's not like he's going to split us up, or
do anything like that is it?  Like you said, it's only
a bit of fun."

"Yes, but I'm not very happy with anyone coming
between us," I said. "Especially like this. Steven
might want more than I'm prepared to give and then
what do we do? We'd be back to square one, or worse."

Brian squirmed a bit in my lap, worked his hands under
my shirt and held me round the waist.  "No, he won't,"
he said.  "He's not like that, he's too selfish.  Did
he try and kiss you tonight?"

I nodded.

"And what did you do?"

"Stopped him."

"And then?"

"He stopped trying and carried on what he was doing."

"Exactly.  He tried to kiss me as well and I wouldn't
let him. And he tried to stick his finger up me, but I
told him `no' and he stopped.  All he wants is a bit
of attention, and this is the only way he knows how to
get it."

This was remarkable insight from one so young I
thought, but I suppose Brian empathised with Steve
better than me and I accepted his logic.

"Remember when we first got together," Brian said
quietly. "Who started it?"

Try as I might, I couldn't remember exactly how it
happened, it just sort of did, one thing leading to
another.  I shook my head.  "No," I mused.

"That's what I'm trying to say.  We liked each other
first and things just happened from there.  I don't
think the sex is why we get on together is it? We love
each other and look after each other and like being
together.  That's why you fostered me and adopted me,
isn't it?  Not because we screw each other once in a
while is it?" he giggled.

I smiled at him, thinking of what he was saying.  He'd
given our relationship a lot of thought, and come up
with answers that hadn't entered my mind in quite
those terms although I knew what he was saying was
right.

"That's where Steve is different.  The sex comes
first, not the person.  If he can get what he wants
from you, or me, or anyone else, that's all that
matters.  Did he cum without you doing very much?  Cum
when you did?"

"Yes, he did. How did you know?"

"He always does.  He gets off just by jerking somebody
off, and when he's cum, he stops and doesn't want to
know anymore."

The last bit wasn't quite true, but he was near enough
to be right.

"Anyway, forget Steve," Brian grinned. "I've had
enough of him for one day, let's change the subject."

He leaned up and kissed me tenderly.

"That's better, he said. "I've missed you."

I pulled him closer to me and kissed him back.

"Do you love me?" he asked, dropping his head onto my
shoulder.

"Of course," I replied.

"No, tell me."

"I love you," I said, stroking his cheek.

"How much?"

"Lots."

"No. How much?  Five inches?" he said, looking down at
his boner sticking up through the flies of his
pyjamas.  He giggled, took one hand and waved his dick
at me.

"No. More than that," I said, "Lots more."

"How much more?  Tell me?" he responded, and slid off
my lap, took his pyjamas off and stood, legs apart and
arms outstretched in front of me.

I almost came on the spot.  His beauty was beyond
belief.  My mouth went dry, my throat choked up and I
felt tears running down my cheeks.  I shook my head,
all power of speech lost - I couldn't move a muscle.

"Get undressed for me?" he whispered. "Please?"

I looked round the room, suddenly acutely aware that
we were still in the living room.

"Here?" I managed to croak out.

"Yeah," he giggled.  "It'll be fun."

There was nothing I would deny him just at that
moment, nothing in the world.  I did as I was told.
We stood at arms length, holding hands and staring at
each other.  Time stood still as we exchanged our deep
love through our eyes, tears slowly running down both
our cheeks now.

Suddenly we found ourselves embracing, hugging and
squeezing as hard as we could. Not kissing, but
holding each other and swaying as we clung desperately
to one another.

"I hurt inside, all over," he said between sobs.
"Hold me. Hold me tight."

I hugged him as hard as I could, so hard he could
hardly breathe.

"You won't ever leave me, will you?" he stammered out,
"Promise you won't."

"Of course I won't. Promise." I somehow managed to say
between my tears.

We gradually pulled ourselves together and eased the
now painful hold we had on each other.

"Take me to bed," he whispered, "I want to be with you
tonight."

Together we climbed the stairs, arms round each
other's waists, Brian still clinging to me tightly.
Once in bed, he wrapped himself around me and lay his
head on my chest.

"Why didn't we meet years ago?" he said quietly,
"I'd've been able to love you longer."

"Doesn't matter," I said. "We're together now, and
will be for ever, no matter what."

"Promise?"

"Promise."


Chapter Eight.

Brian was subdued all the following day, not showing
an interest in anything at all.  In class he would
have earned a telling off from me because of his
attitude, but I didn't have the heart.  Something was
bugging him and I hadn't a clue what the hell it was.

He should have gone to his photographic club that
evening, but as he showed no signs of getting ready, I
assumed, rightly, that he wasn't going to go.

At about nine o'clock, I couldn't stand it any more.
Pulling him onto my lap, I held him as I asked what
was wrong.

"Nothing. Everything. Oh, I don't fucking know!" he
burst out.  "I just feel awful."

"What? How?" I said, "What is it? What's happened?"

He sniffed and took hold of my hand.

"It was while we were talking about Steve last night
and I said something about how you and me look after
each other and like being together and stuff.  I was
thinking about it afterwards and I suddenly thought
what would happen if we ever couldn't be together and
it scared me. Scared the shit out of me and I
panicked. I just couldn't help it."

Tears began to drip slowly from his eyes.

"I'm 14 years old. I shouldn't feel like this. Other
boys don't.  I'm frightened."

"Don't be," I said after a moments thought. "A lots
happened to you over the past few months, a lot more
than most people know. It's only natural that you
should get scared once in a while. I'd be scared
shitless too, believe me.  You've done amazingly well
to cope with it all, better than I thought you ever
would.  What's happened is that Stephen has reminded
you of what could have happened to you, and quite
rightly, it's upset you.  But remember, Stephen isn't
as bright as you and doesn't think like you do. He
can't see beyond today and that's all he cares about.
You're my son now, and like it or not, we've got to
face things together, good or bad, for ever and ever."

I had a sudden flash of inspiration, something I'd
learned years ago but never thought I'd use.

"What sort of music drives you nuts?" I said.

He looked at me as if I'd lost my mind.

"Go on. What sort?"

"Posh music. Classical stuff."

"Right. If ever you get scared again, or frightened,
just say `violin' to me and I'll know straightaway.
It's like a secret code and only you and me will know
what it means. And if I get scared, I'll say `guitar'
to you `cause I can't stand pop music!"

That raised a smile of understanding.

"And if I say `guitar' or you say `violin', then it'll
mean we're extra happy as well!" he giggled.

"Hold on, let's not make it too complicated.  You
happy with `violin' and `guitar'?"

He nodded, grinning at me.  "Better," he said.
"Thanks."

"Good."

A few minutes later he told me he was going upstairs
to have a bath.

"Want me to wash your hair for you?" I asked.

He stuck his tongue out at me and said, "No chance.
You only want to do it so's you can stare at my body!"

I swatted him on the backside as he passed me, but
nevertheless I got a shout ten minutes later to say he
was ready to have his hair washed.

After I'd bathed myself and got into bed with Brian,
we were both reading and caressing each other idly
when Brian turned over and switched his bedside light
off.  As he curled up and settled down for the night,
he kissed me on the cheek and whispered, "Guitar" in
my ear.  I kissed him goodnight and whispered "Violin"
back at him.

In some ways the events of the past 24 hours changed
things between Brian and I. Over the next weeks we
became much closer if that were possible and he also
gained a lot in self-confidence, becoming more
out-going. He even tried sleeping in his own bed more
often, especially during the week when we were both at
school. More often than not though I would wake up to
find him sleeping alongside me, a gentle smile on his
face.

The real change came early one Sunday morning a couple
of weeks later after we'd made love.  We were laid
back, nestled against each other, thinking about
nothing in particular when Brian said, out of the
blue, "I've decided. I'm gay."

I thought at first he was making some sort of joke,
especially remembering what we'd just been doing and I
was about to laugh with him, but one look at him told
me that I was mistaken.

"Oh yeah?" I said seriously. "What makes you think
that?"

It was his turn to smile broadly as he looked up at
me.

"No. It's not what we've just done. It's more than
that. I just don't feel the same way when I'm with the
girls, not even Karen!" he giggled. "The only time I
get really hard is when I think of you, or other boys
sometimes. And I can't imagine enjoying it anywhere
near as much with any girl as I do with you. In any
case, I somehow feel different when I'm with other
boys, more comfortable sort of."

"Violins?" I questioned.

"No, not really. Just that now I've made my mind up
I'm not going to bother worrying about me and girls
anymore, or what people think of me, I feel good. It's
a bit scary though."

"Yeah. Tell me about it," I said with feeling.

"How old were you when you made your mind up?" he
asked.

I thought for a moment before saying, "It was a bit
different for me, I lived with my mother and father
for one thing. I used to knock about with girls and so
on when I was your age and I never gave it much
thought except that, like you, they never seemed to do
much for me, not as much as the boys did anyway!  I
was about eighteen when I made my mind up I suppose."

"Mmmm." he said. "Doesn't it worry you?"

"It used to, especially being a teacher, I had to be
very careful what I said and did around school and it
scared me sometimes, just like it does you. But then I
decided that it wasn't worth worrying about. People
would think what they wanted anyway, and I couldn't
change the way they think. I had a few problems when I
was younger, but only from idiots I didn't like
anyway."
"No one said anything about you and me at school, you
know, in that way?" Brian said.

"No. They've no reason to. In any case, it's not the
sort of thing they would talk about.  Anyone said
anything to you?"

"Once or twice they've sort of hinted at stuff, but
I've told `em to fuck off," he grinned.

"See?" I said, "It works. Let `em think what they
want, just as long as it isn't worrying you."

"Naah. Not any more. I don't care."

"Good!" I said. "Now, before you go and make
breakfast, give me a kiss."

"Piss off! Kiss, yes. Breakfast, no. It's your turn."

The End