Date: Sun, 11 Jan 2009 14:12:20 -0800 (PST)
From: John Venn <johnvenn1945@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: London Street Boy -  Part 1 of 2

Disclaimer:

This story contains scenes of a sexual nature between a man and boy. If
this is not to your taste, or is illegal where you live, or you find it
morally offensive, then read no further and leave now!!

The story is purely imaginary and bears no resemblance to any living person
or persons as far as I know, much as you or I might wish!

Comments are always welcome at johnvenn1945@yahoo.co.uk

**************************************************

Street Boy b/b, t/m, t/m

by

Alexander

I used to be a Rent Boy up 'till two months ago, maybe I still am, I don't
know, but I hope not. For the past eight weeks I have been living with
Andrew in Camberwell (For those that don't know, Camberwell is a suburb of
London south of the Thames). He gives me money each week as well as food
and a bed. We also have sex together a few times as well. It's not like
being a rent boy at all and so as far as I am concerned, I'm not. Renters
earn a few pounds by having sex with men wherever and whenever they want,
spend the loot on booze, cigarettes and drugs and then go out and earn some
more. I've been there, seen it and done it - but no more, I've stopped all
that.

Sometimes Andrew calls me his Ganymede in fun and he tells me that it is
the name given to boys who get paid for sex, but not like rent boys. They
live with the man who pays for them, but it isn't just the sex that they
want, it's the company and the caring for each other as well. Another word
is catamite: I don't understand all the differences, but Andrew is a writer
and he should know, and that is enough for me. I'll get round to telling
you how we met a bit later on. What he wants me to do is to write what it
is like being someone like me, and the sort of things I have had to do.

When I told him that I hardly ever went to school and I couldn't write to
save my life, he said that was OK, I should try my best, start at the
beginning and take it from there. He even gave me a little pc to help with
spelling and so on. I will try to write a bit each day in between tidying
our flat, washing up, making the beds and so on. So, here we go.

How It All Started.

My mother left us when I was twelve years old. I don't know why, or where
she went; the first I knew about it was when I got home early one
evening. I'd bunked off school and had got home at the proper time and so
we could at least pretend I'd been to school. She wasn't there though,
which was odd.

There was a letter for my dad, which of course I read. I can't remember
exactly what she said, but the point is that she was pissed off with dad's
drinking, womanising and general slobby nature and she'd gone back to
Scotland. I didn't understand her problem as she was just the same as him
except that it was men she went after of course. I'd even met a few when
I'd arrived home unexpectedly and found them in bed. The fact that she'd
gone didn't disturb me too much, as nearly all the kids I knew only had a
mum or dad, and they seemed OK.

It wasn't long before I was taking care of myself. Dad's drinking became
almost continuous and I rarely saw him sober. I tried to keep my clothes
clean, but didn't know how to use the old washing machine we had, and in
any case dad hadn't put any money in the electric meter as a rule. He
brought in some take-away food once in a while, but I couldn't depend on
that, and survived by scrounging from friends or begging outside McD's.

It was outside the Tower Hamlets McD's that I met Spikey (I don't know his
real name). He was sat on the wall eating a burger and watching me try to
bum some food. After a bit he gave me nearly a whole burger and said he'd
get another for himself. He looked just as poor as me and I was goggle-eyed
at all the money he showed me. There was more there than I'd ever seen
before.

"Where'd you get all that dosh?" I asked.

"Over there," he said.

I looked where he pointed, but couldn't see anything except the car park,
petrol station and toilets.

"Where?"

"What are you, fuckin' stupid or something?"

My blank look must've told him that I didn't understand fuck all.

"In the bogs, wanking and blowing old men."

I knew what the words meant, but what connection was there between them and
all the money he had?  "Christ!" He said. "Where the fuck are you from?"

So I told him, and in exchange he told me how he got the dosh.

"Wanna try it?" Spikey said after a bit.

The fact that I was still hungry, hadn't got a penny in my pocket and had
nothing better to do made my mind up for me.

"See that old geezer over there," he said, nodding at a man crossing the
car park. "That's the third time he's gone in the past ten minutes. My
guess is that he's looking for a chicken."

"Chicken?"

"Young boy like you or me. All he'll want is a quick wank or BJ. I charge a
fiver for a wank and a tenner for a BJ. You do know what a BJ is don't
you?"

I shook my head.

"Suck him off. Put his prick in your gob and suck it until he cums."

I'd wanked before of course, even with some neighbours boys once, but I'd
never put a prick in my mouth and hadn't a clue what to do. I was OK with
jerking him off if it meant I'd get some money, but any more than that and
he could whistle.

"Right," Spikey said. "You go in there and stand next to him and get your
prick out. Make sure he sees it, and if he's interested he'll smile at you
and play with his cock. Then you say that you'll wank him for a
fiver. Money first."

Sounded easy. Just get a fiver and toss him off. I could manage that. I
walked into the shitty, smelly toilets and stood waiting, my dick hard as
nails and pointing at the roof. The man almost ran in behind me and
unfastened his zip, letting his dong hang out. From out of the corner of my
eye, I saw him look down at me. Taking my hand away so he could see my dick
better, I turned ever so slightly towards him.

I heard him gasp and watched, fascinated as his dick grew bigger and
bigger.

"Wank you for a fiver, mister," I said nervously. "Money up front."

Hurriedly, he dug into his pockets and thrust five pound coins into my
hand. I grabbed his cock and started to wank him. Suddenly he reached down
and put his fingers on my knob. It made me jump at first, but I did my best
to ignore it - after all I'd got five pounds in my pocket. I needn't have
worried though because his hand was so rough and he held my cock so tight
that he couldn't make me cum anyway.

Wanking him was easy. It only took a couple of minutes before he spunked up
and splattered it all over the pisser. Before he could get his breath, I
was out and running, zipping up as I went.

I was there every night for a week and made a good few quid. I ate well on
chips, burgers and Coke - I didn't take any of it home though as dad
would've wanted to know where the dosh came from: he was just a drunk, not
stupid.

I didn't see Spikey until the second week when I saw him in the street one
day. He seemed glad to see me and we talked as we headed for the park.

"Where you been?" I asked. "You ain't been around."

"Other places. It don't do no good goin' to the same bog all the time
'cause someone will call the cops if they see you hangin' round too much."

We sat on the grass talking for ages, with Spikey watching the men's
toilets all the time. Twice he followed men into the bogs, coming back with
a tenner the first time and twenty the second.

"How the fuck did you get that much?" I gasped in awe. It would take me two
or three days to earn that much.

"BJ first one, being fucked second one." he said matter-of-factly. "And I
ain't even cum yet, so that's another tenner."

I sat, stunned, as I thought about it.

"You sucked yet?" he asked, breaking into my thoughts.

"No. I don't know how to."

He laughed at me and said, "Come on then, I 'spose I gotta show you."

Instead of going into the nearby bogs, Spikey led me across to the kids
playground and into the 'Boys Only' toilets "Olds men ain't allowed in
here," Spikey explained. "Only us kids. It'll be quieter."

We went into a cubicle and stood facing each other.

"Come on then, drop 'em."

I undid my torn jeans and pushed my kecks down to my knees. They were dirty
and piss-stained, but they were the least dirty of the three pairs I had.

Spikey pulled a face when he saw them, but said nothing. He got me to stand
on the toilet bowl and face him.

To start with he used just one hand to feel all over my nads, his fingers
feeling them up. Then he wrapped them round my nob and began to wank me
off.

"If you wanna get the men off quick," he said, "wank him a bit first and
suck him just before he cums. Or, if you want, suck him more, but it takes
longer."

He was good at his job. As he jerked me off, his fingers seemed to be
everywhere at once, making my nob hot and really hard. Just as I thought I
was gonna shoot, he put his lips on the end of my dick and slowly sucked it
in to his mouth. The feeling was fuckin' marvellous and I gasped in
amazement as I felt a hot flush spread through my body.

"Christ, you smell!" he said, taking his mouth away for a second.

Personal cleanliness wasn't one of my strong points. We never had any hot
water, and washing my cock and balls in cold water was definitely
out. Manfully, he sank down on me again, and using both his mouth and hands
soon brought me to a fantastic ball-draining cum. The best I ever had.

He spat it out into the bowl I was standing on and said, "That's a tenner
you owe me!"

For a moment I was panic-stricken. I hadn't done anything yet and had no
money. Luckily he smiled at me and said I could blow him if I wanted, "As
my first customer!"

We changed places and he dropped his jeans to reveal a nice, hard cock. It
was a bit longer and fatter than mine, but then he was a little bit
older. Gingerly I put my hand on it and ran my fingers round it. This bit I
was used to by now and even enjoyed it sometimes, like I was now.

Very carefully I leaned forward and, doing just as he did, allowed his
swollen knob to enter my mouth. I didn't know what to expect, but the first
thing I noticed was a slight taste of piss and spunk all mixed up. It
wasn't bad when you got used to it. Spikey's cock was Ok. It felt smooth
and warm and not at all gross. I took more and more of it in, even using my
tongue to feel all round it.

Suddenly I coughed and spluttered so much that it brought tears to my eyes
- his bell-end had touched the back of my throat. I spat his dick out and
coughed again.

"You'll get used to that," he laughed. "It feels even better when you can
get it down your gizzard!"

Cautiously, I tried again and this time I managed to swallow it all. I
began to suck on him properly now, twisting and turning him in my gob, and
licking it all the time.

"Fuckin' Hell!" he suddenly shouted and he pulled me off by grabbing my
hair.

"Jesus!" he moaned, looking at his dick. "Watch your bleedin' teeth, and
don't push the skin back so much either."

Chastened, I said sorry and offered to try again.

"Not now, mate. I don't wanna cum anyway. You did Ok though, for the first
time."

Over the next few weeks I went to all the toilets I could think of, earning
a good few quid which I used to buy some new clothes with, and even went
swimming sometimes to get myself clean.

I met all sorts of men of all sorts of shapes and sizes and colours. Dicks
and cocks in an amazing variety of shapes and sizes too. The best thing I
learned though was to sort out the men who treated me roughly, and those
who were OK.

Spikey and I kept in touch by writing messages on bog walls for each other
or I'd ring him at agreed times on a public phone. We also met some other
boys who were doing the same thing as us and we told each other which
toilets ('cottages') were being watched and which men didn't pay or beat
you up afterwards.

Hackney.

The first time I got hurt was when I went to the cottage near the library
in Hackney. I'd spotted this geezer who looked like an office worker, with
a suit and tie. He followed me down the steps into the underground bogs and
waved his old man at me. After I'd agreed to suck him for a tenner, he
followed me into a shitter and closed the door behind him. To begin with he
was OK. His dick wasn't too big and for a change it was clean. Anyway, I
sat on the bowl and got down to work. I was doing a good job, guessing by
the 'Ooooh and Aaaah' noises he was making when suddenly he grabbed my hair
and started to fuck my mouth really hard. At the same time he was calling
me a cunt, bastard, cocksucker and all the other names he could think of. I
was so shocked with the face-fucking that I opened my mouth wider instead
of biting down as I later learned to do. This made it even worse for
me. When he came, he pulled his dick out and sprayed his cum all over my
face, throwing my head back so it hit the wall so hard that I nearly passed
out and felt sick. He then slapped me viciously across the face and
left. At least I had just enough sense to bolt the door before I fell back
and cried bitterly with both the shock and the pain. It took ages for me to
feel even a bit better. At least there was no blood, just a very tender
bump on the back of my head, growing bigger by the second. Using toilet
paper and water from the bowl, I wiped away my tears and fell dizzily up
the stairs into the street and safety.

I've been hurt since then of course, but never by a man who turned so
quickly or so viciously. I've also learned that it is a price I must pay
for living the way I do.

Battersea.

I didn't go south of the river Thames very often as I didn't know the area
that well and in any case there were enough places for me to go in east
London. This particular day, for some reason I rode on the tube to
Battersea and went to the park.

I found where the toilets were and sat on a bench watching them. To my
disappointment I soon discovered that there were far too many park
attendants and groundsmen around to make it safe. I was trying to remember
if I'd heard of anywhere else in the area when a man sat next to me,
Automatically I turned to him and smiled. He smiled back and moved a little
bit closer. He touched me on the shoulder after a while and said, "Bored?"

I knew I'd caught him then, and nodded a 'yes' back at him. He looked nice:
well dressed and well spoken. He left his hand on my shoulder, gently
tapping his fingers.

He glanced at his watch and said that he had an hour to spare and would I
like to go back to his place.

Naturally I agreed. I'd never been back to anyone's pad before: where I
came from it would be fucking stupid, not that they asked anyway.

After a ten minute walk, we went the back way into a big block of
flats. The one the man, called Jason, lived in was heaps bigger than all of
my house put together and all the furniture he had would've bought it.

"Would you like a shower?" he asked.

This was his way of telling me that I was a bit high, it'd been four days
since I last went swimming and I suppose it showed.

He led me into the bathroom, all chrome and frosted glass windows. Sitting
on a small stool he stood me between his knees and slowly undress me,
starting with my grubby T-shirt. After he'd removed my trainers and socks,
he loosened my trousers. Putting my hand onto his shoulders to keep my
balance, I stepped out of my pants and jeans, standing bollock naked in
front of him, my cock gradually rising.

I guess I should've been frightened or embarrassed or something at finding
myself like this, but for some reason I liked and trusted the man.

Turning me round several times, all he kept saying was, "Nice, very nice."
He didn't touch me or anything except for one finger which he put on my arm
to spin me round. When he saw my solid erection, with my tiny bush of
new-grown hair above it, all he did was to swallow and say, "Beautiful!"

The next thing he did was to turn the shower on, give me a bottle of
shampoo, a bottle of liquid soap, and push me gently under the water.

I thought, and hoped, that he would undress and get into the shower with me
but to my surprise, he didn't move from where he was. All he did was stare
at me, smiling, watching me wash.

Maybe this is how he gets his rocks off I thought to myself, in which case
I'm Ok with that. I acted for all I was worth, if it was a show he wanted,
then a show he would get. I washed my hair vigorously, jiggling up and down
to make my still erect dick bounce around. I soaped myself thoroughly,
running my hands all over my body as provocatively as I knew how. I even
showed him how I cleaned under my foreskin, which isn't easy with a
boner. I hope he didn't see the build up of cheese I quickly washed away.

When I'd done washing, I looked round for a towel, but there wasn't one in
sight, only a small hand towel by the sink. Reaching over to the wall,
Jason pushed a button and straightaway the water stopped running and
streams of warm air surrounded me. It was amazing!

Once I was dry, Jason took me by the hand (how soft his hands were!) and
led me, still naked, into his living room.

In my head, I was prepared for anything to happen now - it was payback
time. To my surprise, he sat down in an enormous easy chair and pulled me
down to sit on his knees. Picking up some sort of remote control, he pushed
a few buttons; the curtains closed, soft lights came on and the room was
full of quiet music.

"Put your arms round my neck," he whispered in my ear.

I did as I was told and clasped my hands behind him.

He ran his fingers all over my body, feeling almost every square inch of
it. He ran them through my hair, felt all over my face, squeeze my neck
gently and rubbed my nipples softly. From the tips of my toes to the top of
my head. Again and again and again he touched me with feather-light fingers
and soft palms, everywhere except my nads.

I was incredibly aroused by now of course, I felt a delicious glow all over
me and my so far untouched prick was dripping pre-cum like never before. In
fact I was so close to cumming that I had to bite my lip to stop it.

To my immense relief, he pushed my legs apart slightly and gently held my
balls in his hand, feeling their weight and so far hairless skin. Then he
rested his fingers on my cock. Didn't rub me or anything, just held it
between his fingers and thumb. My dick jerked two or three times and I only
just managed not to shoot my load.

"Let it cum, let it cum," he whispered in my ear.

That was all it took. Instantly my body froze, my back arched and my dick
spasmed. Six or seven huge gobs of spunk shot like guided missiles high in
the air and my balls retracted so much I thought they'd end up in my
throat! My head almost exploded with the sensation and I am sure I even
passed out for a second or two.

"Magnificent!" he murmured. "That really was very good. May I kiss you
now?"

I only partly heard this, but was just about sensible enough to nod at
him. As far as I was concerned, just at that moment he could have roast me
on a spit and I would've been happy.

His kisses were as gentle as his hands, no tongues or anything, just
simple, almost motherly.

To my complete and utter disappointment, he said that unfortunately he had
to go out again now and so our fun had to end.

As he watched me dress, I did something I'd never done before. "Can I see
you again, Jason?" I pleaded.

"I don't know," he replied. "It's difficult. But you are beautiful, and
just the age I like."

After a bit of a discussion, it was agreed that he would try and ring me at
10 o'clock on Friday and Wednesday nights on the public telephone in the
car park near McD's. I only knew the number because it was the one I used
to talk to Spikey sometimes.

It wasn't until we left the flat that Jason pressed a twenty pound note
into my hand and suggested I treat myself to some new clothes before my
next visit.

Half an hour later, with the twenty pounds stored safely down my pants, I
realised that he'd said 'for my next visit'. I smiled to myself, as happy
as a pig in shit.

****************** Andrew has read through what I've written so far and
changed bits of it so it is better. He said that it was OK, the only thing
I had to do was to learn to spell! Oh, and try not to use the same words
like 'nice' and 'fuck' too much.

****************** King's Cross.

Spikey and me had decided to go to King's Cross station one day, not to do
anything but just to have a look. Spikey'd told me that there were lots of
rent boys there and they get lots and lots of trade and money.

It took a long time to spot them because they were a lot older than us and
much better dressed.

They seemed to be at least eighteen years old. Some even wore make-up, but
I didn't like that, it seemed too tarty and made it too obvious what they
were.

"They're the ones who like doing it," Spikey told me. "They don't do it
just for the money like us."

"Where do they go?" I asked. In a big place like King's Cross there was
nowhere to hide away as far as I could see.

"Some have their own pads near here, but a lot go to hotels and things," he
explained.

We'd never stopped walking around all the time we were talking and looking,
and I was getting tired of it.

"Let's get a drink an something to eat," I said. "I wanna sit down."

Surprisingly, he took me out of the station and into a coffee bar a few
streets away.

"You gotta watch it in there," he told me. "There are lots of cops around
watching you, some in plain clothes. If they see anyone like us who are too
young or by ourselves, they'll stop you and ask lots of stupid questions
like where are you going, where you live. What's your name and stuff. They
even have cameras watching you all the time. They seem to leave the older
boys alone though, as long at they keep moving and don't piss anyone off."

We walked to Soho from King's Cross because Spikey said that it was another
place that men picked up boys.

"You gotta watch it though," he went on. "There are lots of kids on the
make in Soho and they'll kick you in if you try and steal their punters."

Picking the rent boys out this time was easier. Most of them spent their
time in the amusement arcades playing on the slot machines. If a man wanted
to pick 'em up, all he had to do was watch the boy for a bit, and when he
ran out of coins, offer to give him some in return 'for a favour'.

It turned out that there were lots of back alleys and hidden corners where
you could go for a few minutes if you were in a hurry, but the lucky ones
were taken to a porno cinema. There were lots of these in Soho, buried in
the cellars and basements of the shops. Some of the seedier ones let the
underage boys in if they were with a man; after all it was another fiver in
their bin and as long as there was no trouble they were OK. I didn't like
the idea much because there was no way to escape if you got in trouble, and
it was too dark to see properly anyway.

I learned a lot that day, mostly that there was a sort of secret London
which I never knew about.

There were lots and lots of boys like me who turned tricks to earn money,
which was OK with me, as it was a quick and easy way to get a few
quid. There were also some boys who seemed to do it because they liked
doing it anyway. That too was OK - I liked doing it myself sometimes.

Spikey and I were sat on the top deck of the 'bus on the way home, all by
ourselves at the back.

We'd had such a sexy sort of day that we felt each other up through our
opened flies all the way home. I even managed to suck him a couple of
times, which we both liked. We didn't cum though because we still had to go
and earn some money.

Later that night as I sat waiting for a customer, I decided that Central
London was too dangerous for me to add to my list of places to go. It was
too crowded, too far from my own patch, and, most of all, had too high a
chance of my being caught or beaten up.

My Home Life I'd not been back to school hardly at all for ages. I used to
go once in a while when we had letters threatening to take me and my dad to
court, but a few days attendance kept them off our backs and dad never knew
anything. In fact I rarely saw my dad; we'd sort of come to an arrangement
that worked for us both.

I'd get home late at night, but before he came home from the pub. Then I'd
go to bed and stay there until he'd gone to work the following day. Once in
a while he'd remember that I was there and bring home pie or fish and chips
for me, usually cold. These he threw onto my bed with a grunt before
closing the door. Nine times out of ten they were thrown away the following
morning. The gas used for cooking had been cut off ages ago because we
didn't pay the bill, the electric was on a coin-in-the-slot meter, but as
just about the only thing electric we had working were the TV and lights we
didn't use that much - and I paid for that.

He never gave me any money, and on the one occasion he asked me where I got
mine from, I told him I had a week-end job. Whether or not he believed me,
I couldn't give a fuck.

Eventually the inevitable happened. The council came round and evicted us
for not paying the rent.

He couldn't even manage that. By a lot of fucking about and the help of a
kind lady from the Social Services, the council moved us into a cheap flat
in the worst part of town.

One advantage for me was that it was in a different school area. All I did
was to tell my old school that I was moving, gave them a made-up address
and didn't register in my new school. Other than that nothing changed. Oh,
and I got a mobile phone which I nicked off a drunk punter one night as he
was wanking me, and got the number changed on a market stall. I could've
bought a mobile phone I suppose, but it was much more fun to nick it -
after all why waste money when you can get one for free! What I did buy
though was a cheap back-pack in which I kept some clean clothes for Jason,
a towel and my swimming things. There was also a secret pocket for my stash
of dosh.

Jason.

Jason had rung me a few times at the public phone box, and I'd met him in
then park near his house. Then we'd go to his flat and go through the whole
shower thing. It was a bit strange I thought, but what the Hell! It was
twenty pounds a time and in fact I liked it.

Now I had the mobile, Jason could ring or text me at any time with a
message and sometimes he would text me to say that he had some spare time
and could I get over to see him. I always made sure I could.

One Wednesday it was pissing down with rain and I'd spent a miserable
morning dodging in and out of shops to keep warm. Worst of all was that the
cottages were a waste of time in the wet weather, they were cold, wet and
smelled even worse than usual. There were no punters anyway.

Then Jason sent me a message telling me that he was free if I was. An hour
later we met at our usual bench and then to his flat.

While I was in the shower, Jason and I had started to talk to each other
over the past few weeks, although it was me who did the talking mostly. He
learned a lot about me, but I got to know next to nothing about him. I
didn't mind too much because he seemed to be interested in me, which no one
else ever was unless I was in trouble. He even learned my real name (Ian as
it happens) which no one else did except Spikey.

That particular wet day, Jason said that there was no hurry for me to leave
as he'd finished work and so we had all the afternoon to ourselves. Before
too long I was sat on Jason's knee, naked as a Jaybird and cuddled up to
him with my head on his shoulder. This was the best part for me - in an odd
sort of way he was giving me something which neither of my parents never
had. Often I dozed off as he caressed and fondled me, dreaming of a world
I'd never be part of. I was even pleased when he woke me by wanking me
gently and almost lovingly. I didn't even care about the dosh he gave me -
I would have done it for nothing. I never did though.

Anyway, he was playing with my tits (wonderful!) When he asked me if I'd
like to look at some pictures with him. Straightaway I assumed that they
would be some sort of seedy porno pics of young men and boys - good for a
sexy jerk-off when the real thing wasn't available. I agreed anyway, after
all it was his house and he was paying me.

Another few buttons were pushed on the remote and a projector appeared from
nowhere and shone a picture on the wall in front of us.

Rather than the gay porn I'd expected, the pictures were of old paintings
and sculptures, some hundreds of years old by the look of them They were
all nudes though - of boys and men.

Fascinated, I stared as they slowly faded from one to another. There were
pictures of hairless young boys posing as cupids or angels, handsome young
teenagers with bowls of fruit or looking into pools of water, good looking
older men reading books or holding swords and shields.

As we watched them, he told me what the thing was called, and who did
it. The more I saw, the more I liked them. They weren't porno at all, but
they kept me hard. And they made Jason hard too because I could feel his
cock under my leg. I moved slightly to make room for it, giving Jason a
sweet smile. He mouthed a 'thanks' to me, but no more than that.

"Did you like them?" Jason asked as the show finished.

"Yes," I answered honestly. "They were nice. Not dirty at all."

Jason was now holding my dick and balls cupped in his hand, gently rubbing
his thumb up and down my knob.

"Which ones did you like best?"

He flicked through them one by one until he reached a painting of a cupid
by a man called 'caravan' or something.

"That's called 'Love Conquers All' he told me, or sometimes 'Amor Vincit
Omnia' in Latin.

The picture was of a nude boy with big brown wings like on an angel. He was
holding a bunch of arrows and sort of stood with his legs apart, one of
them resting on a table. Whoever painted it must've spent hours looking at
naked boys because his dick was perfect. You could even see where the skin
fitted round his dickhead. There were also some violins and things on the
floor, but I think they'd been put there just to fill the space.

"What do you think of his face?" Jason asked.

I hadn't hardly looked at it before, but now I did I saw something I
recognised straight away. It was exactly the look I gave when I was on the
make! That sort of 'I'm all yours, come and get me' look I'd used so often.

Instead of answering him, I giggled slightly and blushed.

"Exactly!" Jason said, smiling back at me. "That's precisely the look you
gave me when we first met in the park."

Was I that obvious? Shit! If I looked at men like that, it was amazing that
I hadn't been arrested a thousand times!

Now feeling very guilty, I looked away from the embarrassing picture and
hung my head down.

"Hey!" Jason said, putting a finger under my chin and lifting my head
up. "It's allright. If you hadn't looked at me like that we'd never have
met. And we would both be worse off."

He gave my cock a gentle squeeze and even gave me a little kiss on the
cheek.

Whatever, or whoever, this man was, he certainly had a way of saying or
doing things that made me feel better.

"And what else did you like?" he asked, changing the subject.

After a few more pictures we came to the other one I liked. It was a statue
of a boy called David by someone called Donnytello. He was nude again and
holding a big sword. When I looked at it closely, it seemed a bit odd to
me.

"It could be a girl," I giggled at Jason.

"What with those?" he laughed.

"No. He's wearing a funny hat, he's got his arm bent like a queer and his
hair is over his shoulders.

If you cover up his nads, you couldn't tell." I told him.

"That supposed to be the world's first full-sized proper nude," Jason
said. "It's said by a lot of people to be the most beautiful boy ever."

Once again I felt his cock twitch and began to understand just a little
about him. It wasn't sex he was interested in, it was the beauty and
handsomeness of boys he liked. This was a surprise to me as I'd never
thought about it before. Ok, I'd been told many times that I was beautiful
and even that a punter loved me, but I was bright enough to know that I was
only told that because I was giving the man a hand or blow job. With Jason,
beauty and love had different meanings. And, I thought with a little
embarrassment, he must think I'm beautiful in a way too.

He seemed pleased at my interest in his pictures and got out some art books
with lots more pictures. We spent ages looking through them and talking
about them. Some were hundreds of years old and done by famous people
(although I'd never heard of them) and some of them, especially the
photographs were quite new.

For some reason I looked out of the window and saw to my astonishment that
it was dark outside.

"What time is it?" I said hurriedly.

"Just past eight o'clock," Jason said as surprised as me. "You alright to
get home?" he asked worriedly.

"Dunno," I replied. "I've never crossed London at night before by myself."

In fact I'd never crossed London in the dark before, with anyone else or
not, and it scared me a bit.

"Can I .....?" The sentence was left unfinished as I was sure that he'd
never let me stay the night, and I didn't want to ask him really. I didn't
want to spoil things between us by making him angry or anything.

He thought for a moment and said, "You'd be very welcome young man. It's
been a long time since I had a house guest, especially one as young and
good looking as you."

I was relieved beyond belief. Not only had I been spared the terrors of the
journey home, but I was staying in a lovely, clean, warm house for once.

"Do you want to ring your dad?" He asked.

"No, thanks. He won't know I'm not there. We don't have a phone anyway."

He absorbed this for a second, then rubbed his hands together and said
cheerfully, "Right then.

Food. Hungry?"

I realised that I hadn't eaten all day and was starving.

"Shall I get dressed?" I said.

"Not unless you want to," he replied from the kitchen. "It's up to you."

I'd never met anyone like him before - he seemed totally relaxed about
everything, nothing seemed to faze him. I decided to stay as I was, firstly
because I knew he liked looking at me, and secondly I actually got a kick
out of wandering about completely bollock naked.

"Come on, " he called from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready."

When I got there, I was gobsmacked. I knew the man was posh, but he'd laid
the table out properly like they do in restaurants. There were even little
mats for the plates and napkins to clean your hands with.

Apprehensively I sat down opposite him and stared down at the meal in front
of me. It was a sort of stew with meat, potatoes and lots of veg, only some
of which I recognised.

As I began to eat, he laughed at me and said, "You'd better put that napkin
down there," pointing through the table at my cock and balls with his fork,
"we don't want you burning yourself do we!"

I giggled in response and did as I was told. We even shared some wine, but
I didn't drink much as it made me cough. After we'd finished he put the
dirty things into a machine and we went to watch some TV.

Whatever was on, I haven't a clue. Once settled back on his lap, I nuzzled
into his neck and sighed as he caressed me. He didn't even tell me off when
I kissed his neck and hugged him. All he did was give my dick a little
squeeze.

I must've dozed off again because the next thing I knew was that he was
shaking me awake.

"Bed," he whispered. "You can either sleep there," indicating the settee,
or share my bed with me.

I promise not to touch a single hair of your body!"

There was no choice was there?  His bed, needless to say, was huge - enough
room for six I thought. I slipped under the sheets and lay on my back
watching him undress. There was no shyness at all. He took his clothes off,
folded them up carefully and opened a draw for his pyjamas.

Looking straight at me, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "I don't
usually wear them anyway."

He put them back and climbed into bed.

We lay facing each other about two feet apart and started talking. This
time I learned that he was a photographer, wasn't married and shared the
flat with a man who spent a lot of time travelling. I didn't ask whether he
was his lover or not.

>From the way the conversation was going, it was obvious that he meant what
he said about touching me and he didn't.

Disappointed, I put a hand on my hard cock and played with it. I felt a
desperate urge to jack off, but there was no way I could do it with him
there and in any case what would I do with the spunk?  Didn't change the
fact that I was feeling horny though.

Very slowly I slid an arm across and gently stroked his arm, waiting for a
sign to tell me that my attentions weren't wanted. It didn't come. Taking
this for an approval, I scooched closer to him and ran my fingers over his
chest and stomach.

"That's nice," I whispered, hoping to encourage him. The only thing he did
was to turn onto his side and face me.

Very leisurely I let my hand drift down towards his crotch. As I got near
his pubes, I felt his body stiffen a bit and a quiet moan escape from his
lips. I wrapped my fingers around his solid erection and stroked it
carefully. Then I took his hand and placed it on my hot, now leaking
cock. If he didn't know what to do, I certainly did.

"It's been a long time," he said as much to himself as to me, "A very long
time."

For a split second I thought about going down on him, but quickly decided
that it might be unwelcome, or even worse, make him think I was some sort
of slut.

Instead I toyed with his nads, using the few skills I had to make it as
good for him as possible. He too was fondling me beautifully and
delicately. Apart from a few grunts and moans of pleasure from both of us
we were silent. I was really happy and enjoying myself, and so I think was
he.

Even I knew that whenever you are happy and enjoying yourself, it never
seems to last very long, and true to form, it wasn't long before we both
spunked up, breathlessly and ecstatically.

From somewhere he produced some paper towels and cleaned us both up . The
instant his hand touched my dick, it jerked to attention again, ready for
some more action! This surprised even me.

"Randy bugger!" Jason laughed and let go.

We fell asleep embracing each other. I can't remember ever being so happy
and at peace with the world.

I saw Jason at least once a week after that memorable night, but I only
ever stayed the whole night once or twice. We never did any sex stuff
again, but at least he let me put my hand on his dick through his trousers
when he got a boner.


End of Part 1 - Part 2 (final) next

*************************

List of longer my stories posted on the Nifty Stories site:

Cairo Holiday /nifty/gay/highschool/cairo-holiday/

A developing story of two teenage boys who meet when one of them is on
holiday to Egypt. It tells of their developing relationship and the
liaisons they have with the local boys. They grow to like each other - and
more. They share a mutual desire to explore this magical city, and discover
more than they ever thought they would, not only about Egypt but also
themselves. Things change however, when their families learn about their
special relationship.



Forest House /nifty/gay/adult-youth/forest-house/

Life in a home for teenage boys leads a young care worker into finding a
new side to himself which he didn't know existed, and at the same time
teaches a group of behaviour-problem boys that life can be fun sometimes!



Gareth's Story /nifty/gay/highschool/gareths-story/

Gareth is in care, and has been asked to put his life history down on
paper. Despite his misgivings, he does, and in so doing discovers not only
himself but new friends. Later on he meets a new friend and his life
improves as he moves out of care to join a new family.



Garry and John Stories

/nifty/gay/adult-youth/garry-and-john/

The story of John, a university undergraduate and his 12-year-old cousin
who find they enjoy each other's company and more, despite family
differences. They strike up a loving relationship and John takes Garry away
from an abusive and unloving home.

Garry and John Make A Home follows on, they leave Oxford behind and set up
home together.

Despite problems, they both mature together and find that they can't live
apart.

In the third part, they leave England and move to Cairo where their
relationship develops and they make new friends and find life is fun as
well as interesting!



Life Is What You Make It

/nifty/gay/college/life-is-what-you-make-it/

Story of a boy who leaves school and spends the summer trying to find out
who he is. He finds a soul-mate from his old school and, despite their
different cultures, learn that they have a great deal in common, eventually
setting up home together.

Tanta /nifty/gay/adult-youth/tanta/

Ahmed is the young house-boy for a young accountant working in Egypt. A
relationship soon develops which suits them both and before long they are
living together, much to the satisfaction of them both.

Tom Brown's Schoolboy
/nifty/gay/adult-youth/tom-browns-schoolboy/

Story about a young boy from a very disadvantaged background who is
befriended by one of his teachers who helps him move on to a much better
life.


Brian is Different
/nifty/gay/adult-youth/brian-is-different/