Date: Tue, 13 Mar 2012 08:21:45 +0000
From: Ivor Sukwell <isukwell@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Decision Time: A second Decision

This story, a continuation of `Decision Time', is, like its predecessor,
masturbation fantasy and wish fulfilment.

All the usual bits regarding laws and age apply; reading the following if
you should not be doing so is entirely at your own risk.

A Second Decision
A story by Ivor Sukwell

He was waiting by the Athletic Club car park gates just before nine, the
time the perv had arranged to meet him. No trackies this time; he was
wearing a blue football shirt and white football shorts, the fashionable,
almost knee length, slightly stretchy cotton ones. It wasn't a replica kit
of any Premier League team -- no way he could have afforded one of those;
it was blue because he thought blue went quite well with white, and he
thought white shorts looked good on him. If he'd been tied to a chair and
injected with a truth serum, he'd have admitted that he thought white
shorts looked more sexy than black ones, but, since that was not the case,
he just thought white looked better.

Only problem with football shorts was that they didn't have pockets, so
he'd rolled the elasticated waist over so he could tuck his fags and cheap
plastic lighter inside. Course, that made `is shorts a bit shorter, di'nt
it, but that were ok, let the perv see a bit more of `is leg, like. He
avoided wondering why he should want to make more leg available for the
perv to perv on -- he wasn't tied to a chair and had not been injected with
a truth serum, so there was no need for his mind to contemplate reasons,
especially if there was a chance he might not like whatever the reason
turned out to be. He knew what he was doing, knew what the outcome would
be, what he wanted it to be; what he did not want to know was his motive
for behaving like this.

He giggled to himself as he smoked one of his precious fags; the perv had
given him the packet last night, `ad abaht ten in it, di'nt it, an' he'd
made `em last all day. Still `ad two left. Course, bein' at school meant
there weren't no chance ter smoke many, but `ee never let on to no-one that
`ee `ad any, so's `ee never `ad ter give none away, like.

He giggled because he was here to meet the perv, he was here to meet the
bloke, chat and then have his cock sucked again, an' that were well aht ov
order, weren't it. Out of order and definitely exciting! That he was
willing to admit, but that and only that. Anyway, `ee'd probly get sum more
fags, an' that made it awlright, di'nt it.

He spotted the perv's Mondeo which turned into the car park, not stopping
for him at the gates. Initially pissed that the perv hadn't even waved at
him or anything, the boy realised quickly why he had done it. Neat, nah
no-one'll see me gettin' picked up, he chortled to himself, and followed
the car into the car park, opening the passenger door and climbing straight
in.

"Nice," the perv commented, noting the boy's attire.

"Wot is?"

"Shorts instead of trackies."

"Oh," the boy tried to sound nonchalant, "Put them on so's yer could perv
me legs, if yer wanted." He knew the perv would want; last night's
observation in the mirror had confirmed for the boy that his legs were
definitely the sort of legs a perv would want to perv.

"Might, if there was any leg on show to look at," the perv grinned, "Those
things are far too long."

"Fuckin' `ell," the boy gave a mock sigh, "Ain't no fuckin' pleasin' sum
people." And he pulled up the right leg of his shorts as high as he could
get it. "That fuckin' better?" he grinned.

"Much," the man agreed, and proved his point by allowing his left hand to
stroke exposed boy skin. "You do have really nice legs," he said as his
hand wandered up and down.

"Fanks," the boy smiled, chuffed as fuck that the man liked what he was
feeling, cos if yer were gonna do gay stuff -- and there was no point in
trying to pretend that this was not gay stuff -- then yer might as well be
doin' it wiv sumone who fort yer was werf doin' it wiv.

He'd given the matter some considerable thought this morning. He'd reached,
as he always did, for his cock the moment he was awake, no point in hanging
around because it was always hard and waiting for him to wake up and deal
with it, and stopped wanking on about the third stroke. He stopped wanking
because, instead of the usual images in his mind of some faceless bird with
tits like melons, the picture that formed was of the perv's head bobbing up
and down on his bone like prick.

What he should have done, of course, was dismiss that image from his mind,
concentrate on melons and get on with his wanking; instead, he got out of
bed and stood in front of his bedroom mirror. Just as he had last night, he
admired the boy that was reflected back at him, he thought he looked pretty
decent, worth having fun with -- which was just as well considering he had
fun with himself several times a day.

`That perv fuckin' fancies yer, yer know,' he told the boy in the mirror,
who smiled back at him.  `Don't yer fink that's fuckin' wrong?' In the
mirror, the boy shrugged, neither a `yes' nor a `no'. `Fuckin' good gettin'
sucked off, though,' and the mirror smiled back, agreeing, `Gettin' yer
spunk eaten's fuckin' magic.'

`Yer promised ter suck `is an' all, though,' the image told him and this
time he shrugged, `Tried ter suck me own, ain't I,' he pointed out, `Just
can't fuckin' make it.' The mirror boy nodded, he knew that was true, tried
several times, but never managed it. `Promised `im a decent marf full an
all,' the image reminded him, `So can't wank nah.'

`Dunno if I can go till tonight wivaht a wank," he thought; he couldn't
remember the last time his cock had gone from hard to soft without his
help.

He stared at the boy in the mirror, whose mouth, like his own, had dropped
open a bit with the understanding that he did actually intend to meet the
perv again, let him suck his cock, eat his full day's load of spunk, and
even fulfil his promise to suck the man as well. `Dunno `baht eatin' his
spunk, though,' he compromised.

                                                                            ***

"Wot makes yer fink I got nice legs, then?" the boy asked as the man's left
hand explored every exposed millimetre of his leg skin, from knee to the
bunched up material of his shorts.

"Long, smooth and a lovely curve; seriously sexy legs," the man smiled,
not, for one second pausing in his stroking.

"Fuckin' perv," the boy grinned, "Legs ain't fuckin' sexy."

Havin' yer leg stroked was, though; `ee'd gone fuckin' `ard jus' cos the
perv was strokin' `is!

"Yours are," the perv assured him, reached for the obvious lump in the
boy's shorts, and grasped it. "This is as well," he whispered, his voice
just a little thick with the desire that welled up in him.

"That ain't me leg, mate," the boy sniggered as his cock was squeezed, `An
if yer does it too much I'll fuckin' spunk."

The man's grip eased slightly, although he did not let go entirely. He
looked across at the boy, his eyebrows raised in question.

"Ain't wanked since last night, `ave I," the boy explained, "Usually
spunked abaht five times by now."

"So why the abstinence?" the man asked and when the boy looked a bit blank,
rephrased his question as, "Why not today, then?"

"Cos I fuckin' promised yer a decent marf full, din't I," the boy explained
the obvious, and, misunderstanding the look of surprise his words produced
on the man's face, "If yer wants ter suck me, ov course," he added
hopefully, preparing for rejection.

"Of course I want to," the words were out instantly, and said with enough
conviction to allay any worries the boy might have had. It was only after
he'd said them, noticed that the boy relaxed, almost smiled, that he
realised that the boy had harboured a genuine doubt. "Didn't think I
wouldn't, did you?"

The boy shrugged, the universal teenage shrug that indicated that it was
easier to say nothing in case anything said revealed something that might
be better unrevealed.

"You did, didn't you," the man persisted. He had two sons but absolutely no
understanding of the workings of a teenage mind; he'd swallowed a pint or
two of spunk from the prick of his landlady's son, but no awareness of the
difference between a boy of fifteen who didn't give a toss about being
gobbled by someone only a few years older than himself, and a boy of just
fourteen who was taking a massive step into the peer unforgivable unknown.

The boy shrugged again. `Ee'd `ad a barf, `adn't `ee, washed `is fuckin'
`air an' all; put shorts on instead ov `is trackies so the perv could get
at `im easy, an' now the cunt looked surprised wen `ee said `ee'd saved up
`is spunk for `im. Fuckin' didn't give a shit, did `ee! Just anover cock
ter suck, wan' `ee; nuffin gorjus, nuffin speshul! An' `ee'd be fuckin'
dead fer doin' this if anyone fahnd aht; not that `ee'd fuckin' care!

Instinct, not understanding, led the man to do the right things. He eased
his hand off the boy's cock, moved it to slender, smooth thigh, stroked
that gently, spoke softly.

"You did that for me?" he said, just above a whisper, "Saved up a whole
day's spunk for me?" He did, at least, understand how big a thing that
was. The boy hadn't wanked all day, not in order to make this evening's
sucking better for himself, but so he could give his best to the man who
would be gobbling him.

The boy shrugged yet again

"And you thought I might not ..............want to?"

Another shrug.

He stroked the boy's thigh tenderly, far more tenderly than he should have
been stroking the thigh of a boy he had met simply for some basic sexual
relief, and now his mind was as confused as the boy's. He'd made that
decision last night on impulse; to turn his car round, go back to the boy
at the bus stop, expecting nothing more than to be told, in no uncertain
terms, to fuck off. He'd done it because his waning sex life needed a
boost, and just speaking to the boy, however briefly, would be more
exciting, more daring, than anything he had done for years.

Incredibly it had ended up with him sucking the boy off, eating his sperm,
and even more incredibly the boy had offered a second meeting. He'd left
work early to meet the boy as arranged, not really expecting the boy to
show up, but he had. And not just `shown up' but come to fulfil his promise
of giving a `decent mouthful' and wearing shorts in order to show off his
legs and make access to his cock easy; easy, because it was obvious that
the boy, once again, was not wearing anything underneath those shorts.

"You really are something special," he said with a smile, a real smile, one
that included his eyes.

"Perv," the boy, mollified, grinned back. "Ain't gotta fag, `as yer?" He
still had one left in the packet tucked under the waist band of his shorts,
but no point in smoking that now.......he might need it for later.

The man produced a half full packet, passing it to the boy, who took two
cigarettes from it, lit them both and placed one, carefully, suggestively,
between the man's lips.

The man put his car into gear and started to move off.

"Better get going," he told the boy, "Don't want anyone getting
suspicious."

The car park was not empty, there were people still using the athletic club
on this warm light, summer evening.

"Nah," the boy agreed, blowing out smoke happily; happy because he knew
that, later, they would be doing things that neither of them wanted anyone
to have any suspicions that they might be doing.

They headed north; there were at least two hours before the light faded and
it would be dark enough, safe enough, to do what they both wished they
could do now. North, beyond Enfield, there was something approaching
countryside, somewhere they may be able to park and talk and smoke without
being overlooked by passing traffic and the windows of the houses that
surrounded them.

Whenever traffic permitted, the man's left hand strayed from the wheel to
the boy's exposed right thigh, and with every touch of the man's hand on
his skin the boy felt happier; though why `ee should feel `appy `cos sum
perv was touchin' up `is leg', was something he would have had considerable
difficulty in explaining.

Wot made it even better wos that the perv kept sneakin' little looks at
`im; not looks at `is legs neever, or at the front of `is shorts wot was
pointin' up at the car roof wiv his boner, but at `im, at `is face. Nah `ee
weren't nuffin' worf lookin' at, but the perv kept doin' it an' he always
`ad this little smile on `is chops as though he liked wot `ee wos lookin'
at, a' that made `im feel fuckin' good, di'nt it.

He had to ask why, though; why the perv kept looking at him and smiling
instead of looking at his cock, which is where one would expect a perv to
be looking.

"Because I like what I'm looking at."

"Why? I ain't nuffin' speshul."

"You are to me." He was feeling more confident now, more relaxed with the
boy. He sensed that, for whatever reason, the boy actually wanted to be
with him. Yes, he wanted his cock sucked, but he felt that the boy actually
wanted it to be him who did the sucking. And that's a pretty good boost to
any man's confidence.

"Daft cunt," the boy said, which was the safest way for him to say
`thanks'.

"True, though," the man smiled again, and then, trying to keep things from
getting too deep, said, "Here's me, telling you that you're special and I
don't even know your name."

"Ain't gonna, eever," the boy retorted.

"Why not?"

"Cos if yer don't know me name, yer can't let it slip that yer does stuff
wiv me, can yer. Safer fer me like that."

Perhaps that was a little bit paranoiac, but the man could see the logic.

"Don' wanna know yer name eever," the boy insisted. "Gonna call yer Perv."
He grinned as he said it.

"Why?" the man grinned back, enjoying the essential boyishness of this
game.

"Cos yer is, ain't yer."

"And what do I call you?"

"Dunno, sumfin wot makes yer fink ov me, I spose."

The man thought as he drove and requested another cigarette, which the boy
dutifully lit and let his fingers linger on the man's as he passed it
across.

"Well," the man said eventually, "I think you are definitely tasty, so I am
going to call you that."

"Wot, `Tasty?"

"Yup. Tasty it is. Perv and Tasty."

"Fuckin' nutter," the boy giggled cheerfully; did perv really think he was
tasty?

"Too bloody right!" Perv said fervently, "And that's all of you, not just
that luscious cock of yours that I can't wait to get my mouth round again."

"Likes me cock does yer?" Said with a laugh, but meant very, very
seriously.

"Very much. Don't you?"

"Fuckin' loves it don' I!! Wanks it loads ter keep it `appy."

"I'm really honoured that you are allowing me to help keep it happy."
Although he said it formally, it was meant to be a light hearted comment, a
tiny bit of flattery, but the boy did not take it that way. He turned to
look at Perv, his face deadly serious.

"Yer means that," he asked, "I means really fuckin' means it?"

"Yes, I do," and this time Perv was serious as well.

"Fuckin' `ell!"

Those words can mean all sorts of things, depending on how they are
said. Tasty's voice went up as he said them........surprise, wonderment and
definitely, very definitely, delight. Tasty just wanted to hug the man; no
way a fourteen year old boy could say the words to describe his feelings,
but a big, big hug would do it. Unfortunately, he couldn't do that while
Perv was driving, but the moment he stopped...............

He did stop eventually, in a lay-by screened from the road by trees, just
over the border into Hertfordshire. An ideal place to stop for a chat and a
smoke; perhaps to cuddle and definitely to slip a hand up inside the leg of
a boy's shorts.

The moment the car came to a stop, not even allowing Perv time to apply the
handbrake, the boy hurled himself across and flung his arms around the man,
hugging as tightly as he could.

The man was surprised at this sudden display of affection, but, sensibly,
made no effort to disengage the boy -- being hugged by a fourteen year old
was far too pleasant to wish to conclude it. Eventually Tasty released his
victim, but was delighted to find that the victim's arm was now round his
own, much more slender shoulder and showed no sign of moving away.

"Got a fag, then?" Tasty asked, managing to get the words out despite the
fuckin' lump wot `ad appeared in `is froat.

Perv managed to locate the packet and lighter with his boy-free right hand,
passing them across so the boy could do the honours, which, suggestively
included once more putting one against the man's lips.

"Bit random," Perv said, referring to the unexpected hug.

"Yer.......well...." And that, Perv knew, was all he was going to get from
the boy in the way of an explanation.

"Spect yer've gobbled quite a few boys," Tasty finally returned to what he
wanted to talk about; "Says stuff like that to all of `em."

"Told you yesterday, you are the first I've ever picked up."

"But yer musta done uvers," the boy persisted.

"Three," Perv told him, "Two when I was your age, and one when I was a
student at University; and that was more than twenty years ago."

"Wot was `ee like?" More than just idle curiosity, the man guessed.

"Horny and available," Perv smiled, "Liked having his cock sucked now and
again as an alternative to wanking."

"Nuffin' speshul, then?"

"No, nothing special. Just a fifteen year old boy who liked being sucked;
moment he found a girlfriend I never saw his cock again."

"That musta well pissed yer orf," Tasty said sympathetically, flicked his
cigarette end out of the open car window and then peeled off his shirt so
Perv's hand could feel his skin instead of cotton.

"Not really," Perv was quite offhand about the long ago event, "He was
convenient fun at the time, nothing more."

Not the happiest choice of words as Tasty started to wonder once more if
that's what he was, which, considering that less than twenty four hours
ago, that's all he thought of this as being; having his cock sucked was
just a convenient bit of fun.

The perv's hand on his shoulder was reassuring, though, thumb gently
stroking the bit where neck joins shoulder. Reassuring, but not final,
convincing, proof; an' why the fuck shood `ee want fuckin' proof? An' proof
ov wot?

"Didn't go after `nuvver boy, then," Tasty said; the perv claimed only
three prior to him and they had been accounted for.

The man shook his head, tossed his own finished cigarette end out of the
window. "Did the normal," he said, "Found a girl, got married, produced two
kids."

"Wot made yer go fer me nah, then?"

From the boy's point of view that was a perfectly valid question; if the
perv had been in the habit of picking a boy up for a bit of uncomplicated
cock on the side then he was just one amongst many. That may not have been
particularly flattering, but it would have been, in an odd way, comforting
-- it would mean that there were other boys out there who had done what he
was doing, possibly even other kids in his school. He would not be the only
one who had done the unforgivable and let a man get at his cock.

It is not easy being fourteen, horny as hell and gripped tight in the
straightjacket of peer group conformity where the only permissible outlet
was to do stuff with a girl. Which might have been all right if there were
girls available to do stuff with, but that was not a luxury offered to
Tasty or just about every other boy like him.

Over half the girls at school never showed more skin than that which was on
their faces or fingers; the black ones wouldn't go near a white boy -- and
everyone knew the reason for that, didn't they, although Tasty had no first
hand evidence of the truth or otherwise of that belief, having never set
eyes on any cock other than his own -- and what white girls there were had
already been booked and taken by older kids, which meant he was going to
have to wait till he was sixteen or seventeen before he was in with a
chance of getting anywhere near even barely teenage cunt.

A generation or two before, he could have found a satisfactory outlet with
another boy, but even thinking about doing that now would be committing
suicide, so it was really no wonder that he had, when presented with the
clear and obvious possibility of being sucked off by a man, he had gone for
it. Doing it with a man was safe; the man wasn't going to open his mouth
about it, unless he actually wanted to spend time behind bars, and he
wasn't going to blab about it because he wanted to remain in one
piece. Getting gobbled by a man was as safe as wanking in bed, and an awful
lot more fun!

Had it been as simple as that, Tasty could have sat back and just enjoyed
the much needed attention his body was receiving. It wasn't. Why had he so
carefully cleaned himself up for this second meeting, even washing his hair
and wearing shorts, white shorts, in the hope (unadmitted at the time) that
the perv would be unable to keep his hands to himself? Why was he so
desperate that he should be the only boy Perv was interested in, when, in a
weird way, he would have felt better if there had been others? And was Perv
actually interested in him, or was he no more than just a bit of convenient
and available cock? And, most difficult of all, did he want to be more than
just a bit of cock? He was starting to get dangerously near wondering about
motive.

All these thoughts swirled through his brain as he enjoyed the feel of
Perv's hand on his shoulder and waited, impatiently, for the man's hand to
return to his thigh, though they did swirl through in language far less
correct and grammatical than given here.

"Because it happened," Perv answered, "I wasn't looking for a boy, I didn't
spot you and decide, `That's the one,' it just happened."

That made sense because it had `just happened' for Tasty as well.

The man went on, explaining his somewhat unsatisfactory married life, his
few months old method of obtaining the required hardness at night by rating
the boys he saw, and the ever increasing longing inside him to experience
once again the sheer pleasure of having a boy's cock in his mouth.

"Yer fuckin' perv," Tasty sniggered, "Fuckin' lookin' at kids an' puttin'
them in fuckin' order of wot ones yer fancies gobblin'."

"Don't you do something similar with girls?" Perv asked with a quiet smile.

"Yer, course," Tasty agreed, "Only nachral, ain't it."

"Indeed it is," Perv stroked the boy's leg at last, "And I've been lucky
and found an amazing one."

"Ain't no fuckin' girl!" Tasty almost snarled, deeply horrified that the
man would think of him in any way as being a substitute for female flesh.

"Ain't no fuckin' way you'd be in my car if you were!" The vehemence in
Perv's retort surprised the boy, so much so that he turned and stared at
Perv. Their eyes locked, held for a moment before they both smiled hugely
at the same instant, adult and adolescent male forming a bond of the type
that man and boy have formed since men and boys have shared the planet.

"Don't fink I'm gay, does yer?" Tasty asked, opening to light for the first
time the dreadful abyss he was terrified of falling into.

"No," Perv smiled, "I think you're a boy."

Tasty, his one big fear removed, could not resist giving his man a hug,
before he arched his body and pulled his shorts down to his ankles. He
wanted to say, `There you are, it's all yours, do as much as you want to
it,' but that would have been a step too far, so instead he grinned,

"'Ave a fuckin' good look, then, yer dirty ol' perv!"  He lowered the seat
back so he was full length for Perv's admiration.

"What if someone comes?" was Perv's immediate reaction, but the boy simply
shrugged off his concern.

"No-one ain't gonna see nuffin' frew the back winnders, is they," he
pointed out, "An' I'll keep me eyes on the mirra, anyway."

Tasty was right about the windows, the company car had dark tinted glass at
the rear; to be able to see into the car a person would need to come round
to the front.

Satisfied that it was indeed safe, Perv turned his attention to the fully
revealed boy. He'd been similarly uncovered last night, of course, but that
was in the dark and this was in full daylight; he could inspect the boy in
full detail for the first time.

Dark, charcoal hair, short cut and freshly washed and amazingly ungelled,
the front back combed into a low peak; skin almost white, though with a
definite blush on his cheeks; eyebrows and eyelashes, long eyelashes, as
dark as his hair and lips seeming over red against his pale skin. Eyes of
cobalt blue completed what Perv thought was a stunning vision of boy
perfection, that his features were narrow and a long way from any classical
concept of beauty was completely irrelevant.

His shoulders were narrow, his arms thin and his chest almost skinny which,
combined with his flat stomach, emphasised the swell of his bony hips. His
pubes were a neat, black patch above his erect, slender, five inch cock
with its enticing foreskin bud, no spreading, as there would be in later
adolescence, hair had not yet even started on his balls. Nor on his long,
slender curving thighs, though there was a hint of fuzz below his knees,
and the darker skin of his lower legs, the only part of him that was
regularly exposed to the outside air, hinted that he would tan to a lovely,
honey gold if he ever made the effort.

He was, as far as Perv was concerned, the essence of boy, perfection just
did not do him justice.

"Wot yer fink, then, like it?" the boy asked, although he already knew the
answer -- he'd watched how the man's eyes had devoured him with unconcealed
admiration and lust. He could be naked for hours for the man to look at him
like that, but he wanted to hear Perv tell him that he liked what he was
looking at.

"I was wrong to call you tasty," the man said, taking care not to dribble,
"you are not tasty, you are simply mouth-wateringly beautiful."

"Better stick to `Tasty'," the boy smirked, "Marf wortrin' boo'iful's too
much ov a marf full."

Perv grinned, the boy was so refreshing, so fun to be with; even his mood
changes, his worries and concerns were so boyishly predictable. Why were
women so complicated when boys were so much less so?

"Seerius," the boy said, and from his expression Perv knew he was being
serious, "Yer really fink I'm awlright?"

"I think you're an awful lot more than just all right, I think you are the
most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

It weren't troo ov course, `ee musta seen fings wot was a lot better to
look at than `im, ev'n if he were nakid, an' `ee knew `ee looked good nakid
cos `ee looked at `imself nakid lots in the mirrer, but it were fuckin'
brill to `ear `im say it.

"Yer don't `ave ter just look, yer know," he said, his delighted grin
splitting his narrow face in half.

A hand went from his knee, up a thigh, over his stomach and chest, up to
his shoulder and back down again on the other side. It finished by finding
his balls and cupping them, gently rolling them around and making the boy
feel amazing.

The man's head bent towards his cock, but Tasty stopped him;

"Toss me off," he pleaded, "I loves wankin' an' I wanna know wot it feel
like ter `ave it done."

He saw the slightly disappointed look in Perv's eyes and allayed his fears;

"Don't worry," he grinned, "Let yer know wen it gets close so yer can suck
it fer me spunk."

Perv wanked him, slowly at first, finger and thumb holding cock just on the
ridge where helmet blends into shaft, easing the boy's foreskin back so his
eye was revealed. The boy was tight, his skin not wanting to peel easily,
and Perv did not force it, keeping his movements well within the boy's
comfort range. Gradually he increased the speed, changing his grip to full
hand and all the time looking into the boy's face, observing every change
of expression as Tasty gave himself up to the pleasure of being
masturbated. Man and boy forgot all about keeping a look out for other
cars, both were too engrossed in pleasure for anything else to matter.

Not a long wank, Tasty was five or six orgasms short of his daily
allowance, his balls overfilled and anxious to unload.

"Soon," the boy whispered, and Perv went down on him, taking just the head
of the boy's cock into his mouth without slowing the wank. He let the tip
of his tongue flick across the barely revealed eye as it was exposed on the
down stroke, increasing the speed of his hand until it was just a blur and
the boy's hips lifted, his legs went rigid and his spunk spurted, filling
Perv's mouth with far more than he had expected.

"Fuck," the boy whispered when he could breathe again, "Yer can do that ter
me any time yer wants."

Another cigarette and it was time to head back to west London, Tasty's
shorts reluctantly restored to their correct place, which was just as well,
because Perv spotted an all night supermarket and pulled into its car park
announcing that there were one or two things he needed to get.

He returned with a plastic carrier bag which he tossed carelessly onto the
back seat, having first removed a Mars bar which he handed to Tasty.

"You are going to need something to help you reload," he grinned in the now
dim twilight, "After the amount you pumped out earlier!"

"That weren't nuffin'," Tasty boasted, blushing a little, partly because he
knew he was both boasting and considerably exaggerating, but more because
he was chuffed as fuck that Perv so obviously appreciated his seminal
offering. It was pretty cool to be able to do gay stuff without actually
being gay -- `yer got the fun, but not the kickin',' he thought. Would be
different if anyone found out, of course, he'd definitely get the kicking
then!

They parked up at the athletic club in full darkness, but Perv shocked the
boy when, instead of going straight for cock, which is what one would
expect any self respecting perv to do, he said, in a very quiet voice,

"Would you think it really stupid of me to ask if we can just cuddle now?"

"Not fed up wiv me cock, are yer?" a horrified Tasty squeaked.

"Far from it, believe me," Perv smiled in the darkness, "But earlier
was.........well......rather....special, and I just want to hold the boy
who gave me that." He knew it sounded silly, like something from a cheap
gay novel, not that he'd ever read any cheap gay novels, or expensive ones
either, but he couldn't think of any other way to put it. If he sucked the
boy again now, and the boy was clearly willing to be sucked again, he'd be
treating Tasty like a bit of convenient cock, and whatever the boy might
have been a couple of hours ago, now he was definitely more than just
convenient cock.

`Wot the fuck's `ee on abaht?' Tasty wondered; `All `ee done wos toss me
orf an' swaller me spunk; wot's so fuckin' speshul abaht that?'

"I want to suck that beautiful cock of yours lots and lots of times, if
you'll let me, but somehow, doing it now would spoil things."

"Course I'll let yer, yer daft cunt," Tasty shot back, "Wot the fuck's up
wiv yer?"

"Don't know," Perv almost sighed, "But, look, I got this for you." He
reached over to the bag he had tossed on the back seat and came out with a
long, rectangular packet, which he handed to the boy.

Tasty looked at it and was, possibly for the first time in his life,
completely lost for words -- he was holding a carton of two hundred
cigarettes. Two hundred cigarettes, he knew, cost well over fifty pounds!

"Fuckin' `ell," he finally breathed, "Yer got them fer me?"

"For a very special boy."

"Fuckin' `ell,' Tasty breathed again and was very glad that it was really
dark in the car park because something odd was happening to his eyes, and
boys, especially street wise west London boys, do not allow tears to leak
from their eyes!

Perv did not have to repeat his request for a cuddle because Tasty was in
his arms, head buried into the crook of his shoulder, where he remained for
a good twenty minutes contemplating just how good it was to be cuddled by a
perv wot fort yer was somefink speshul.

"Can't meet you again until Monday," Perv told him as they were driving
home.

"Yer," Tasty acknowledged, weekends would be difficult cos `ee `ad a
famlee, din't `ee.

"But Monday evening if you fancy?"

"Too fuckin' right," Tasty confirmed, and, with a giggle, added, "An' I'll
fink ov yer abaht fifteen times till then."

"Why fifteen?"

"Cos that's abaht `ow many wanks I'll `ave tween nah `an' then."

"That is two decisions I have made in the last two days," Perv said to
himself as he drove home after dropping Tasty safely off some distance from
his house "Picking a boy up and then what amounts to starting an affair
with him. Things always come in threes; I wonder what the third will be?"

"Lets a perv pick yer up an' then gets all gooey cos yer wiv `im," Tasty
told his mirror image. "Wot the fuck next?" In the mirror the image fondled
its hard five inches; "Yeh," Tasty agreed, "Probly loads more ov that.
Fuckin' `ope so, anyway," he grinned at his reflection before heading to
bed and a good, long wank.