Date: Wed, 8 Jul 2015 16:30:57 +0000 From: Spasm Two <spasm2@hotmail.com> Subject: Hugo chapter 7 Chapter 7: if you go down to the woods today... When I'd made the short trip back to my house, I opened up my post box and was delighted to discover that the underwear I'd bought on eBay for Hugo had arrived. Although I'd chosen to live in comparative isolation, for some reason this seemed to make the post more speedy and reliable than it ever had been when I lived in London. 'That'll cheer him up,' I thought to myself, setting the padded envelope to one side. In the meantime I had work to be getting on with. It already felt like it had been a very long day when I settled down in front of the computer, steaming mug of coffee conveniently to hand. After all the excitement I'd already had that morning it was difficult to concentrate at first, but eventually the old e-mail routine of question and answer took over and I battered through my work quite efficiently. After a couple of hours I'd had enough, there was nothing that needed my immediate attention any more, and I wasn't feeling very creative. I'm not by nature a very interventionist person, but I was coming to the conclusion that without any guidance Hugo was close to running wild, and it felt like I was the only one who was aware of this. Although I can't deny that I thought he was adorable, I was worried that he was projecting all sorts of needs onto our friendship. I was also beginning to realise that, despite my best efforts to deny it, I want and need affection and love as much as anybody, and this boy was desperate to give them to me. As ever when my mind was troubled I thought I should have a walk and think it through under the big sky. In theory I didn't have that much time before I was due to meet up with Hugo, but I was sure that Joan wouldn't let him get away with grabbing his lunch and running, he would be expected to sit still, chew his food properly and make polite conversation, and what's more he'd probably rather enjoy the attention. I grabbed a bottle of water, some sun block and as an afterthought, the envelope containing Hugo's new underwear. It occurred to me that he might get to our swimming place before me, so I grabbed a Sharpie and quickly scribbled; 'These are a present for you, Hugo : )' onto the padded envelope before I headed out into the blazing sunshine. On my way out I swung by the burn, and in case he got there before I did, I carefully positioned the envelope on the big flat rock that had featured in the sunburn debacle then I stripped and spread sun cream all over my body. I stashed my clothes in a niche, leaving the bottle of lotion holding down the envelope where he was sure to see it, and revelling in the sensation of the sun baking down on my skin at last, I made my way out across the fields and up into the hills. Unusually I had kept my watch on, conscious that I needed to keep an eye on the time; I had made him a promise after all, and I knew he was feeling vulnerable. Whilst in truth my walk in the hills didn't do much to resolve any of my thoughts, I was able to use the calming effects of a brisk hike in the sunshine to mull over the situation. I remained as before, split between my liking, no, my growing love for the boy, and my own lack of certainty about whether or not our developing relationship was in either of our best interests. I suppose in older, less judgemental times, a close friendship between a youth and a more mature adult was more likely to be approved of, rather than called into question. It is odd that the term 'youth' with all its connotations of trembling on the brink of adulthood, seems almost to have vanished from use, replaced with the much more loaded descriptive of 'teenager'. A teenager, almost by definition, is going to be awkward and problematic, and off-limits to all but the most foolhardy, whereas a youth is just an inexperienced and immature adult. My contemplative mood inevitably caused me to think about my early sexual development (chronicled elsewhere), and whilst my own experimentation was exclusively confined to those of my own generation, we were always very conscious that we were of considerable sexual interest to some adults (and indeed we had successfully profited from that interest). The idea that we might ever have had any kind of meaningful relationship with a grown-up was utterly remote; to us adults were authority figures, ordering us about and pursuing their own incomprehensible aims. Perverts and pederasts, as our parents warned us, were all around us, and because they were always rather reluctant to give us any details of the danger they actually represented to us, we were able to operate under the radar, enjoying a level of freedom to experiment that today's teens are missing out on. Back in the day, we always had a pretty good idea who was perving over us, I can still remember the hippy science teacher who used to get turned on by his classroom full of uniformed pubescent thirteen year old boys, he would rub his erection (always clearly visible in his very tight jeans) against the edge of the bench while he droned on about Boyles law or the partial mixture of gases. No boy who had received their secondary education in my small part of London was unaware of the reputation of the head of maths, a bitter and unhappy man who was able to indulge his fascination with the boys in his charge by teaching swimming and coaching the water polo team, an obsessive interest that never, as far as I know, got much beyond peering over the doors of the changing cubicles and making the occasional unfortunate swim naked when he'd forgotten his kit. The man was marked out, not to say notorious, throughout the borough, and whilst he really was quite repellent, I do feel some small twinge of sympathy for him now, with the benefit of hindsight. Of course, there were some boys who actively sought the companionship, and more importantly the financial advantages to be gained from the company of men. Back then the teenage economy was microscopic compared to nowadays, pocket money rarely exceeded the minimal and opportunities to earn more were limited to things like delivering newspapers. So it's hardly surprising that some of my fellow schoolboys embraced the oldest profession as a means of paying their way, and they were never short of customers. Whilst this activity wasn't commonplace, it certainly wasn't unusual and among my contemporaries it wasn't subject to the sort of moral opprobrium that it attracts now; we were all permanently skint and if some boys earned their pocket money selling blow-jobs to businessmen in the bushes in the park who were we to judge. It remains an uncomfortable fact that most inappropriate and unwanted sexual activity occurs within the family, it's much more likely to be your uncle (or auntie) who is an abuser rather than the apocryphal stranger dressed in a dirty mac lurking outside the school gates and trying to seduce you with a bag of sweeties. All of this was going through my mind as I tramped in the heather, I was ruefully aware that I was older now than the gargoyles who had featured on the fringes of my sexual awakening, and they had all seemed to be impossibly ancient to me at the time. However, my generation is probably the first one not to subside gratefully into middle age as soon as the teenage years have gone, and whilst I could not, and would not ever seek to be 'down with the kids', I have never felt that my age should prevent me from having a good time. This pondering led me inexorably to think of Hugo, and what to do; I was concerned that our interaction had already gone way past what would be considered 'appropriate', even though I had done very little to encourage the boy. On the other hand, I hadn't actively spurned him and I couldn't deny that I was gratified by the generosity of his attention. Now his mother was practically thrusting him into my arms, although I suspect if she'd seen him lying face down on my bed thrusting his naked backside up into the air and begging me to fuck him she might have been less enthusiastic. So, even though I had plenty to ponder on, eventually I set my dark thoughts to one side and just enjoyed my walk under the big sky and the feel of the sunshine on my naked skin. I glanced at my watch, and realised with a start that if I didn't hurry I would be late for our tryst, so, my activity marked only by the tuneless screech of a circling buzzard, I quickly made my way back off the hill and down to the burn. My heart pounded with pleasurable anticipation at the thought of seeing my young friend again, even though it was only a few hours since we has shared a kiss. You can imagine how I felt when I came in sight of the pool and realised that everything was just as I had left it. I looked hopefully for a glimpse of his lithe golden-skinned body, but there was no sight of him. Oh well, I thought, I guess I got the timing wrong after all. My hasty return had made me quite hot and sweaty, so, now I'd realised I was alone I didn't hesitate, and plunged into the cool peaty water to refresh myself. After a couple of minutes splashing around I was cool again, and decided to settle down and wait for my young friend on the rock. The smooth stone was hot beneath my skin, and eventually I relaxed enough stretch out and doze in the sun. I must have drifted into sleep, because I found myself having another one of my hyper-real dreams; It was still sunny, I was further up the burn and my attention had been drawn by an unusual splashing noise on a bend upstream. Moving carefully and silently, I drew a little closer and I was enchanted to see an otter battling with a large trout on the shingle bank. I knew there were otters in the burn, because I'd seen their spraints, but up 'til now I'd never seen one. Nearby among the thistles and heather there was a small cairn and I parked my naked backside on a large stone so I could watch it in relative comfort. The otter was facing away from me and I was well downwind, otherwise I very much doubt I could have ever got that near to the elusive creature. I don't know how long I watched, the otter guzzled down its meal and stayed put among the warm pebbles while it washed itself carefully. I was startled from my reverie by a warm hand on my back, and spun round to be greeted by the grinning face of my young friend. Like me, he was naked, but his hair was dishevelled and his tanned skin was streaked with dust and grass-seeds, he must have been stalking me through the scrub. Before he could say anything, I lifted a finger to his scarlet lips, and pulled him close by with my other arm, he gave me a puzzled look and I pointed up the burn. He still looked confused, and I manoeuvred his smooth body in front of mine, putting my arms round him I whispered softly in his ear; 'look upstream on the opposite bank, there's an otter sitting there.' I felt his body stiffen as he spotted it, and he sat back between my legs against the rock. The erotic sensation of his silky skin pressing against my crotch proved to be a immediate turn-on, and my cock swiftly erected, pressing urgently against his warm back. As he sensed my growing excitement, Hugo wiggled his bottom against me, and my stiff cock inevitably slipped into the crack between his cheeks, making my condition even worse. I slowly slid a hand down his chest from where I had been embracing him, down across his concave stomach and tracing the V line that took it straight to his pleasure zone. My fingers brushed gently through his soft pubic bush, and then encountered the rigid column of his erection jutting from his crotch. Still only using my fingertips, I investigated the hot length of his cock; his foreskin wasn't yet fully pulled back, but I felt that the sensitive tip was already moist with pre-cum. 'Mmm, you're horny,' I whispered, my eyes still fixed on the distant otter. Hugo didn't speak, just nodded his head, his sun-scented hair brushing across my face. After a moment he rocked his weight forward, his hand reached back, groping for, then confidently grasping hold of my stiff cock. We stayed in our pleasurable embrace, gently wanking each other, still ostensibly watching the distant mammal, until disaster struck, and I leaned back. The cairn, made from loosely stacked rocks, hadn't really been created with casual sex in mind, and that movement was enough to dislodge my perch. As I sprang free to avoid the heavy rocks tumbling about my ankles, I tripped and fell in a clatter of stones, landing in a confused sprawl in a previously unobserved patch of stinging nettles. As the plants painfully stung my nether regions, I awoke abruptly from my dream, still half asleep; I twisted away from the imaginary torment and was shocked out of my drowsy state when my cock and balls actually began to burn. Looking down in bewilderment, I realised that I had rolled over onto some nettles. Odd, as I hadn't spotted any growing close to the rock, and this was just a single bushy stem of the stinging leaves. No matter, even though the sensation was strangely erotic, the pain was beginning to become quite intrusive. I looked about for a dock, which fortunately always seem to grow close by; I still couldn't see any growing nettles, but happily there were plenty of docks. Plucking a handful of leaves, I crushed them in my fingers, and rubbed the green juice into my fiery groin. The relief was nigh on instantaneous, and I crumpled up another handful of leaves and rubbed them over my stinging bum cheeks. As I massaged my burning crotch, I looked about me; there was no-one to be seen, but my growing suspicions were confirmed when I heard a muffled snort somewhere off to my right where the burn curved round and joined with another. 'Aha,' I thought, and jumped splashily into the burn, rather than stay in the pool, I swam quickly and quietly downstream, keeping under water as much as I could. Luckily, the burn was narrow, deep and swift for a couple of hundred yards, and I was able to swim downstream past the junction of the two burns before it became too shallow again and I had to stand up. The sound of splashing water from the burn disguised the small noises I made as I crept along the field margin, at first I couldn't see anything, but then I spotted a small figure lurking behind one of the large rocks that littered the boundary. The perpetrator of the schoolboy prank was facing away from me; bent low and peering cautiously over the top of the boulder towards the bathing pond. Like me he was naked and even though I was momentarily distracted by the golden vision of his spread cheeks, his peachy balls dangling loosely as he sprawled over the rock trying to spot me, my mind was filled with thoughts of revenge. I grabbed a large dock leaf, and using it to protect my hand I cautiously plucked a generous bouquet of nettle stems and advanced silently towards my victim. With the stalks held out in front like a duellist's sabre I crept towards Hugo, and, pausing only briefly to admire his beautiful backside jiggling eagerly as he stared out across the scrubby field; swiftly I thrust the bunch of greenery between his spread legs, gave it a quick wiggle and stood back to watch the results. Instantly Hugo slapped at his bottom, imagining, I assume, that a passing insect was taking a sniff. After a moment, however, the burning sensation kicked in, and he spun round, to spot me grinning at him. 'Gotcha,' I said. 'Ow, it stings,' he replied. 'Yeah, it does, doesn't it,' I smiled. 'My balls are burning up,' he wailed, tears of pain welling up in his eyes. I tossed the nettle sprig away, and held out my hand to him; 'Come on then, let's apply a country remedy to your tender parts.' Gingerly, he stepped towards me, cupping his stinging balls in one hand, 'you got me back,' he said, 'serves me right I suppose.' 'Yeah, but don't worry, it'll all calm down in a minute.' I put an arm round the boys shoulder and we walked over to the pool. 'Sit down, and I'll pick some dock leaves,' I ordered. Hugo perched gingerly on the warm rock, and I grabbed a handful of tender green leaves. 'Ok, lie back, and let me in there.' He obediently laid flat and spread his legs apart, I could see the myriad little white bumps on his inner thighs and his balls, where the nettle stings had done their work. Crushing the leaves in my hands, I gently rubbed their green juices all over the affected areas. 'Ooh, that feels better,' he moaned, as nature took its course. 'This is getting to be a bit of a habit,' I grinned, continuing to massage him with the green salve. 'Yeah,' he mumbled, 'I do seem to keep finding ways of hurting myself.' 'Not really your fault in this case, I suppose.' 'Yeah, but if I hadn't pulled that trick on you, I wouldn't be in this position,' he continued, 'and how are you feeling, still stinging?' 'Nah, it's worn off, I have to confess that after the initial pain, the sensation was a little bit of a turn on, at least I think it was, it might just have been the excitement of stalking you.' 'I couldn't help noticing you were still a bit randy,' he replied, 'I wasn't going to say anything.' How could I avoid feeling turned on? After all, here I was, gently smoothing vegetable juices into the genitals of a beautiful naked boy, indeed, as that thought passed through my mind, it obviously entered his, and I began to feel his cock stiffening under my fingers. 'Ah-hah, you seem to be recovering,' I said. 'Mmm,' he murmured, pressing his crotch against my hand, 'I like it too, what are you going to do next?' Unable to resist the temptation, I gave his developing erection a couple of slow strokes with my slippery hand, colouring his organ green, 'I tell you what I won't be doing,' I said, 'and that'll be letting that,' I gave his cock a gentle tug by way of emphasis, 'get anywhere near my mouth.' 'Oh,' he said, sounding hurt, and propping himself up on his elbows to look at me, 'why's that?' I extended my green hand towards the boys face, 'taste that,' I commanded. Obediently he stuck out his tongue and gingerly licked the tip of one of my fingers, 'Ugh, that's gross, it's really bitter.' 'Yeah, docks taste disgusting,' I grinned, 'like all good medicine should, but the good news is that it washes it off, come on.' I helped the boy up onto his feet, and hand in hand we jumped back into the pool. I helped Hugo to wash the now redundant dock juice from his body, the cooling water reducing his ardour somewhat. We fooled around in the water, splashing at each other and indulging in a bit of rough and tumble. Hugo dived into the deepest part of the burn, and emerged a moment later, clutching a stone, 'look,' he squeaked triumphantly, 'I found some gold.' 'Let me see,' I asked, and he handed me the rock, 'uh-uh,' I said, 'there really is gold in them thar hills, but I'm afraid what you've found is Iron Pyrites, better known as fools gold.' 'Oh,' he looked crestfallen, 'I saw it glittering on the bottom, and I thought I might be rich.' He tossed it casually back in the water. 'Well spotted though,' I praised him, 'you're a good diver, did you see any fresh-water mussels down there, they do sometimes have pearls in them, although you mustn't hunt them, they're quite rare and protected.' 'No, but I'll have a look,' he upended himself, and vanished into the burn again. I watched his sleek body twisting and turning beneath the water as he busily investigated the bed of the stream and I began to get a bit turned on again. When he eventually came up for air, I had retreated to the shallows of our pool and was contemplating another stint on the warm rock. He emerged triumphantly, and splashed over to me, holding another rock, 'no luck then?' I asked. 'No mussels, no, but look at this.' He handed the stone to me, it was a piece of pink granite, about half a kilo in weight, and the only remarkable thing about it was its shape; it was exactly like a three dimensional cartoon heart. 'Wow, that's a nice one,' I said, 'round here courting couples used to use them as a love token, it's supposed to bring you good luck if you find one, and better luck to be given one. They used to use them as secret signs too.' 'I want you to have it,' he said impulsively, 'and we can use it as a secret way of communicating.' 'How do you mean?' I asked, although I was secretly very thrilled by his spontaneous gesture of affection. 'If you put it on your kitchen windowsill, then I'll be able to see it without being too obvious, if it's standing up then you're available, if it's lying flat, then you don't want to be disturbed.' 'Ok, that doesn't sound too complicated, but wouldn't it be simpler just to drop me a text or an e-mail.' 'God, you're so unromantic,' he rolled his eyes, suddenly looking several years younger, 'where's the fun in that.' 'I suppose you're right,' I agreed, 'I'm just trying to be practical. Anyway, since we're on the subject of presents, step over here, I've got something for you too.' 'Oh wow, thank you,' he smiled, 'what is it?' I handed him the envelope, and he eagerly ripped it open, inside were three little Ziploc bags. 'I thought I'd buy you some pants,' I said. 'Cool,' he breathed, his eyes wide, 'these look great.' He took out the first packet and tipped the contents out into his hand. I'd intentionally chosen three different styles and colours, I already knew that his golden skin tone looked sensational in yellow, so I'd chosen alternatives that I thought would look good against his healthy tan. His first choice was a miniscule pouch g-string in rose pink set off with a fine black elastic cord, the fabric was silky, sheer and semi-transparent. 'Blimey, there's not much to these,' he said, turning them over in his hand, 'they won't hide anything.' 'That's not really the idea,' I smiled, 'they're supposed to look and feel sexy.' 'How do you put them on?' he looked puzzled. 'Just think of them as if they're an ordinary pair of pants, only with a bit less material. The string sits in your crack, and after you've had them on for a moment or two you'll wonder why you ever wore anything else.' 'Ok,' he said, looking slightly unconvinced, 'they look as though they might be a bit tight.' I was a little bit disappointed that he didn't seem more enthusiastic, although I suppose I was projecting my own tastes onto him. I gently lifted the offending articles from his hands, 'look,' I demonstrated, ' they're ever so stretchy, there's plenty of room for expansion, but there's only one way to prove it.' I held the pants out for him, and, after a moment of hesitation, he moved forward and stepped into them. 'That's it,' I cooed encouragingly, 'now, let's see how they fit you.' I carefully pulled them up his water bedewed legs for him, ever conscious of his warm firm flesh beneath my hands. 'Ok, move your legs apart, and we'll see how you look in them.' I settled the cord of the string between his cheeks, and over his hips, then carefully tucked his package into the pouch. 'Now, you just need to check you've nothing trapped,' I ran my fingers round the edge of the pouch to make sure it was all comfortable. They fitted him very neatly; the top of his pubes peeked out just above the waistline, and the water that still beaded his skin had made the translucent nylon even more see through. 'There, I think you look sensational, ' I patted his package, 'but you have a little shimmy, and tell me how they feel for you.' Hugo stepped back, and wiggled his hips, before putting a hand down and gently exploring his groin. 'You're right,' he smiled, 'they do feel great, I know that I'm wearing them but there's still nothing to them.' 'Yeah, and you look really sexy in them too,' I smiled back, unable to ignore that he was beginning to get aroused, and well aware that I was too. 'Hey, could you take a picture of me in my new pants?' 'What with?' I asked, indicating my nakedness, 'my camera's back at the house.' No, you thicko, I left mine back over there,' he turned and waved his hand towards the rock which had unsuccessfully concealed him. 'Oh, right you are,' I ambled over, and found his camera bag tucked away in the shade. Switching the camera on, I walked back over to Hugo, who had been watching me without moving from his position. 'What sort of picture do you want me to take?' I asked. 'I dunno, something sexy I guess,' he replied. 'Erotic rather than porno, perhaps?' I suggested. 'I'm not sure what you mean,' he looked confused, 'what's the difference?' 'I guess porno would be a picture of you lying naked on that rock, legs spread wide; with a couple of fingers rammed up your arse and liberally splattered in your own spunk. On the other hand, erotic might be a picture of you pretending that you don't have a massive erection in your shiny new knickers, whilst at the same time looking totally innocent.' 'Why don't we have a go at both?' he grinned wickedly. 'How d'you mean?' I asked. 'I could start off looking innocent, and then let it all hang out, as it were, not that I think it'll ever be possible to look very innocent in these pants.' 'I'm happy to give it a go, if that's what you want, after all, we can always erase them if they look crap.' 'How can they be crap if you're taking them, and I'm looking good,' he frowned theatrically. 'Ok,' I said, raising the viewfinder to my eye, 'give it your best shot.' So began our first collaboration; I grabbed a couple of shots of Hugo standing in side view, before he perched himself demurely on the rock, wrapping his arms round his knees and resting his chin on them as he looked innocently up at me, nothing on show to the camera but the line of black elastic crossing his hip. 'Take your time,' I urged, 'we've got as long as you want.' Hugo didn't answer, just smiled and continued to gaze enigmatically up at me, his azure eyes giving nothing away. I smiled back, lowering the viewfinder from my eye, happy just to be with him, and feeling a familiar erotic flutter in my belly, a feeling that was visibly demonstrated by the steady thickening of my cock. Hugo's eye line was level with my hips, so he could hardly fail to be aware of the effect he was having on me. 'You lead, I'll follow,' I continued, and knelt down beside the rock to get another angle. It might been decades since I had done this, but I guess some skills never leave you. The only thing I hadn't anticipated was his silence; I can distinctly remember chattering away to my first model Paul, mostly, it has to be said, to reassure and distract him (and to a certain extent, me). It was only when I started to photograph my beloved Ewan that I realised that we had a rare sense of mutual understanding; our sessions were notable for our ability to create erotic and pornographic set-ups without any need to issue instructions to each other. It gave me a massively nostalgic and pleasurable feeling to rediscover this mutual empathy with my new young friend and muse. Hugo relaxed his legs a little, giving me a sneaky peak shot at his package, one that would have been entirely innocent if he hadn't already been quite turned on; his cockhead plainly visible through the skimpy fabric. Gradually he allowed his legs to spread apart, exposing his excitement to the camera, finally he leaned back, hands flat on the rock behind him and smiled up at me. I clicked away, coming in close to get a detailed shot of his semi-tumescence straining at the soft material, a dark stain of his fluid spreading away from the tip of his cock. Hugo laid back, and used his fingertip delicately to explore the dampness, sniffing like a connoisseur at the scent of his pre-cum, his reaction causing his erection to grow visibly and thrust the skimpy g-string away from his body. Abruptly he flipped over onto his knees, and gave me the shot between his spread legs, the pucker of his anus neatly bisected by the black elastic of the string, his balls no longer confined in the pouch as his rigid cock created a tent from the stretchy pink fabric. Up until now he had avoided more than a passing caress of his penis, but now he grasped himself firmly through the sodden material, and turned his face to give me a cheeky grin as he began to wank himself. He rolled over onto his back again, and pushed both his hands into the straining pouch, cupping his balls with one hand and encircling the naked flesh of his cock with the other; his knuckles revealed through the translucent nylon. His next move was to pull the string to one side, exposing his hard rod to the lens and then he sat up, legs apart and clutching his erection, smiling up at me. 'Time I got shot of these, I think,' he said, plucking at the soggy fabric. He rolled onto his back, pulled the g-string off in one smooth movement, and sat up again, lifting the moist garment up to his nose for a sniff. I shifted round beside him, so that I could get a shot of his wanking over his shoulder; Hugo leaned back against me, his hair tickling my erect cock, a potent reminder that I was a flesh and blood human. Taking photographs was all very well, but he had just brought me back down to earth with a bump; I wasn't dealing with an abstract image on a screen but this was a living breathing teen, whose life had been placed, in some ways, into my hands, and for whom I was painfully aware that I had real feelings. As if he'd read my mind Hugo rolled over onto his front, 'Ok, that's enough for now,' and used both his hands to pull his lovely cheeks apart in a repeat of his wanton invitation; 'I'm going on strike, I refuse to come until I've felt you inside me, it's just not fair of you, I need to put your icing on my cake.' 'but you've already made me come,' I protested weakly. 'You're missing the point, I really want to be in the same place as you when it happens,' he protested vehemently, 'I thought that maybe now at last I might manage to persuade you to make love to me? I didn't think we had hidden anything from each other, it's not possible, even if I've not yet seen you come.' I looked down on the naked body sprawled in front of me, legs spread wide apart, and made a decision; 'there's one or two things you need to know about before you make love with anyone.' He turned his head and steadily met my gaze, 'anything, you know how much I want to, but I already know about HIV and stuff like that, Africa, remember?' 'Understood, now, I need give you a little demonstration,' I moved closer to him and carefully set his camera down, 'if you'd be so kind as to get a hold of my stiffy.' He propped himself up on one elbow and his small hand confidently grasped my dripping erection, 'Ok, what next?' 'I just want you to get the feel of it, not to wank me off,' I grinned, much as I was enjoying the sensation as he began to move his hand methodically along my length. 'Oh,' he pouted theatrically, 'spoilsport.' 'Maybe later,' I continued, 'now, I might not have the biggest cock in the world, but it's still a decent fistful.' 'True enough,' he replied, 'and it's the only other one I've held, but your point is?' I knelt down beside him, my slippery cock slipping from his reluctant grasp; I put my hand carefully on his sun warmed cheek and gently caressed his peachy skin before I allowed my stubby forefinger to meander slowly along his crack. 'Mmm,' he murmured drowsily, pillowing his face on his arms, 'that feels lovely, you can do that all day long if you feel like it.' 'I suppose I could, and we can certainly return to doing this many times, but for now I want to show you something.' 'I can't believe there's an inch of your body you haven't shown me,' he smiled. 'Show, as in demonstrate,' I replied, 'I don't think you have any idea how tight your bumhole is, the muscle that holds it shut is very strong, and if you force anything into it, it can be really painful and in the worst cases it might even tear.' 'Oh,' he said, a little nervously, and I felt his body tense up underneath my hand. I slowly and tenderly circled my fingertip around the golden hairs that surrounded his pink rosebud, 'so, there are a few things that can make this an entirely pleasurable experience, the first is to relax; you need to believe that your partner doesn't want to hurt you, and that I'll never do.' I immediately sensed the tension leaving Hugo's youthful body, and wondered, not for the first time, at this beautiful boy's total trust in me. 'Next, as I've already said, your hole is very tight, which is a good thing, or your pants would be in a right old mess most of the time.' He giggled and settled himself more comfortably on the warm rock, 'Umm, so what did you do the first time you tried then?' 'We made a lot of mistakes, that's why I'm showing you, so you don't have to. For example, if I were just to try and push my finger in, you might find it a bit uncomfortable,' suiting my action to my words I centred my finger in his anus and gave it a speculative push. As I had anticipated, his hole clamped firmly shut, and although I wiggled my finger a little against the resistance there was clearly nothing doing. 'So, with a little assistance we can overcome this difficulty,' I continued, 'I didn't think to bring any of the proper stuff with me, so I'll just have to improvise.' I reached for the bottle of sun cream and poured a generous dollop into my palm, and using both hands I carefully spread the warm greasy lotion along his crack. I might have performed this service for him several times already, for various reasons, but I still marvelled at the circumstances that had delivered this beautiful and trusting youth into my tender care, whatever might happen to us in the future, our lives together had changed and were changing day by day. I could feel his body relaxing under my careful ministrations, if he'd been a cat he'd have been purring by now, and so I slowly massaged the oily liquid into the soft skin surrounding his pink rosebud. Having ensured that the area was well covered and my hand was well greased, I poured an extra measure of the cream onto my fingertips and tipped it onto my target. There was no point in hesitating anymore; I pushed my middle finger against the resistance, this time, aided by the lubrication, my finger slipped in past the first knuckle without much effort and with no sign of discomfort from my subject. Indeed, I heard Hugo groan with pleasure as I pressed on and finally penetrated him to the full extent of my digit. 'How's that?' I asked. 'Mmm, lovely,' he whispered, 'can you do anymore?' 'That's as much finger as I've got,' I apologised, 'but I can show you something else.' 'Please,' he implored. 'Ok, tell me how this feels,' suiting action to my words I used my finger to explore his inner world until I had located his prostate, once found, I gently and slowly stimulated him; 'Well?' I asked. 'Wow,' he breathed, 'that feels fantastic.' He twisted over onto one side, careful not to dislodge my probing finger, I could see that his prick was stiff and inflamed once again, a healthy dribble of pre-cum welling up from the tip. 'Doctors use your prostate to check whether you are sexually functional or not,' I added helpfully, 'not that I needed any proof of that, of course,' I continued, before he could say anything. 'How about you,' he asked, 'are all your bits working properly?' Hugo met my steady gaze, and reached out for my erection, which had achieved a similar state to his without any digital assistance, 'feels alright to me, better make sure though.' Without saying anything I took hold of his cock with my free hand, still slippery with sun cream, and continuing to stimulate his prostate with the other, I began to wank him. Hugo arched his back and began mimicking my rhythm as he confidently masturbated me. 'You do realise there's only one way this is going to end?' I asked, mainly for forms sake, as I couldn't stop and sure as hell I didn't want him to either. 'Uh-huh,' he gasped, 'and it's not far off too.' In truth I could already see it, the tip of his cock was scarlet and it was rock hard in my hand, and his pre-cum was splashing onto my thigh as I jerked him. Of course, as soon as I sensed this, I realised that I was on the verge of coming too. 'Kiss me,' he grunted, his face an attractive shade of pink. All too willingly I bent over and clamped my lips to his, our tongues mingling frantically as our lustful play took us towards the point of no return. Suddenly, I felt the familiar tingling roaring sensation and without any further ceremony I ejaculated great ropes of spunk all over my willing partner; my coming was enough to set him off and I was rewarded by gouts of his semen splashing all over me and mingling with my out- pourings. As the last few dribbles of come dripped slowly from my cock, I let my finger slip from his hole and gathered his warm and slippery body into my arms. 'Mmm, that was the best ever,' he whispered, 'I don't think I can move.' 'Know what you mean,' I agreed, 'my legs are all wobbly, how about we just lie here in the sun for a bit?' Hugo didn't speak, just wrapped his arms round me and gave me a powerful hug, in that moment all my doubts and worries flashed away and I felt unbelievably happy. We stayed cuddled up together for what seemed like an age, our jizz mingling and congealing on our bodies under the rays of the sun. Eventually, however, the smooth surface of the stone proved to be too uncomfortable as a resting place, and I had to prise myself away and prop myself up on an arm, looking down on Hugo's resting face. I was perfectly content to stay like that and watch him, but after a few minutes, his eyes flickered open and he smiled up at me; 'that was perfect,' he said, 'and we came at the same time too.' 'Yeah, I like it when that happens,' I agreed, 'it's as if we're in some sort of harmony.' 'Can we do it again?' he asked. 'What now,' I laughed, 'you might be ready for it, but I'll need a little time to recharge my batteries.' 'No, I'm not quite ready for it either,' he admitted, 'I just wondered if you'd want to?' 'Me!' I squeaked, 'why on earth wouldn't I?' 'I thought you might be getting fed up with me, I know I can be a bit tiresome and demanding sometimes, it's just that I've been feeling a bit lost lately and it feels like you're the first person who's actually listened to me.' I hugged him more closely, 'don't talk daft, you're the best thing that's happened to me for years, but you mustn't think that you have to hang out with me if you don't want to.' 'Don't say that,' he frowned, 'of course I want to hang out with you, and I really want to feel you come inside me.' 'Aww, that's very sweet, but we're going to have to train you up a bit before that happens.' 'Oh, how do we do that?' he asked. 'We can gradually stick thicker and thicker things up your hole, so it gets stretched, but you mustn't rush it, or it could damage your sphincter muscles.' 'My what?' 'The muscles round your hole, you wouldn't want to end up with a sore and leaky bottom, now do you?' 'Ugh, no, I guess not, I'll do whatever you think is best.' 'You're such a sweet boy,' I said, kissing his sweaty forehead, 'but you've no need to get hung up about it, there's heaps of other things we can do together.' 'Like what, for instance?' he asked. That abruptly reminded me how naive and inexperienced my new-found lover was sometimes. I sat up and looked down at him, 'You know what? I think you and I are going to have so much fun finding out, but for now if we don't do something about it we'll be whiffing worse than a tramps pants, so, before we do anything else, I think we should jump in the water and get cleaned up.' I stood up and helped him onto his feet, as a consequence of our exertions we had both ended up liberally splattered with our mingled juices, and by now the hot dry air had begun to dry this into a rather unattractive crust. I encouraged him to wade out into the burn with me and we used the rushing water to clean each other off, I was touched and pleased to see that my gentle handling was causing him to stiffen up once more. I could feel my own revival of interest, but although my spirit was willing I couldn't quite demonstrate the same level of excitement that the boy was showing. 'Let's try something new,' I said, and knelt down in the rushing water facing the naked boy, his semi-erection was bobbing attractively in my eye line. I didn't wait for his permission, just engulfed his cock into my mouth, I heard his gasp, and grasped his bottom with both hands in case he tried to pull away. I shouldn't have worried, because as soon as I began to suck and tongue him he pressed his groin hard into my face, and I didn't need to ask if he liked it because his cock erupted back into hardness with a speed that startled me. This wasn't subtle play; Hugo had come a few minutes before and his cock was still sensitive to the touch, I tasted the salty sweetness of his pre-cum almost immediately and after very little time I sensed his body tense and another jet of his spunk splashed into my mouth. The flavour of his cream was as sweet and fresh as anyone could wish for, and I gulped his ejaculate down with greedy pleasure, licking the last few drops from the hot red tip of his organ. I hauled myself to my feet and kissed him fiercely on the mouth, before stepping back and smiling at the boy; 'there, that was one of the things I was thinking of, will that do for now?' I asked. 'You swallowed my spunk,' he blurted, 'that's weird.' 'Yeah, and delicious it was too.' 'Does everyone do that?' he asked. 'Some people do spit it out, I have to admit,' I answered, 'but don't knock it 'til you've tried it, and as a bonus, I reckon it's a great cure for a sore throat, didn't you like it?' 'It was just a bit unexpected,' he said thoughtfully, 'my cock loved it, and it felt fantastic, I do think I'd like to try again, and maybe it'll be less of a surprise this time.' I immediately felt chastened, I'd let my enthusiasm for oral sex override my need to look out for the boy, I was forgetting that he was naive and inexperienced in many ways, despite his precocity and enthusiasm. I put an arm round his shoulder, and he leaned into me, physical confirmation that I had been forgiven. 'I'm sorry Hugo,' I said, 'it's not often that I get an opportunity to play the pink oboe, and I just couldn't resist the temptation.' He didn't give me a reply, and we waded together back to the edge of the pool, after a moment I felt him shaking, and looked down, concerned that I had made him cry, I needn't have worried, he was struggling not to laugh. He pulled away and leaned over, shoulders heaving as he attempted to regain his composure. 'It wasn't that funny,' I protested. After a bit he gradually calmed down, and straightened up, tears and snot streaming attractively down his face, wiping the mess aside with the back of his hand he spluttered; 'You didn't know I was learning to play the oboe as well as the pipes, did you?' 'I knew you played the pipes, everyone within a couple of miles of you knows that,' I grinned, 'but the oboe is a bit less antisocial.' 'How am I going to cope the next time mum tells me to go and do my oboe practise?' 'I don't know, but do try to resist the urge to explain, she'll just think you're being silly, or blame it on your hormones.' 'They'd not be wrong,' he laughed, 'and I suppose I could always come round to yours for a bit of extra practise, if I needed to.' 'You'll always be very welcome, and practise makes perfect. Now, how about we go and have a cup of tea before Joan turns up to give you your tea? You're to come back to mine to watch a movie or something afterwards, and your mum will call you to bring you up to date. Where did you put your clothes? We can't go back like this unfortunately.' Hugo scampered over to the rock he had attempted to hide behind, unearthed a small back pack, and came back over to our rock with it. Tossing it down he rootled about and snatched up a pair of his new white cotton mini briefs; 'these seem so bulky now, after those cool ones you bought me.' 'Oh, thanks for reminding me,' I said, carefully peeling his discarded g string from the warm rock, 'I'll just rinse these through in the burn then they can go in the wash later, but if those pants are too much why don't you try one of the other pairs I bought you, you haven't even looked at them yet.' 'Oh God, nor have I,' he blushed, lunging for the envelope and pulling out another Ziploc bag; the pants he revealed this time were a traditional thong in a brilliant white fine mesh fabric. Hugo stepped into them and pulled them up, easing them into his crack. 'How do they look?' 'They look great,' I enthused, 'shall I take a pic for you?' 'Yes please.' I picked up the camera, and Hugo struck a pose standing on the rock, the mesh fabric rendered almost transparent by the sunshine, but still standing out against his golden skin tone. He turned to give me a profile shot, his package jauntily filling the seamless pouch, then turned once more to offer a shot of his rear; cheeks split by a band of white. His final pose was to bend forward, hands on knees and legs apart, giving the camera a fine view of his balls. 'Ok, that's probably enough for now,' I said, conscious that my cock was beginning to catch up with the rest of me, 'we need to head back now or Joan will come looking for you.' I handed him his camera, the sunshine was too strong to be able to see much on its screen, but I was making a point; that the images we had taken that afternoon were in his control, not mine. I grabbed my clothes from their hiding place and pulled them on, Hugo set the camera down carefully and did likewise, and after gathering up everything else, we set off together back to my house and that well known British aphrodisiac, the cup of tea. We'd not been back long when the phone rang, and Joan asked Hugo when he was coming over for his tea, 'I just need to pop home for a minute, then I'll come straight over, maybe half an hour?' he said, putting the phone down once he heard her response. 'I think I'd better put my boardies on before I go over to hers,' he said, by way of explanation, 'these shorts maybe a little too revealing for tea with the farmers' wife.' 'Sensible,' I agreed, 'and your legs would be wasted on her.' Hugo gulped down the rest of his tea, then grabbed his back pack, slinging it over his shoulders we went outside and he jumped on his bike; 'Right John, I'll see you in a couple of hours.' With that he blew me a kiss and pedalled off, without waiting for a response. 'Look forward to it,' I said softly to the empty air, and watched him race off down the farm track before turning back into my strangely silent house. To be continued...