Date: Thu, 19 Mar 2009 14:59:48 -0700 (PDT)
From: John Venn <johnvenn1945@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Mondays Child

Disclaimer:

These stories contain scenes of a sexual nature between men and boys. 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 stories are purely imaginary and bears no resemblance to any living
person or persons as far as I know, much as you or I might wish!

Other stories of mine may be found under 'Prolific Authors' at Nifty.

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


Monday's Child
A Collection of Short Stories by Alexander based on


Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child had far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for his living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

(Traditional Victorian English Nursery Rhyme)


'MONDAY'S CHILD IS FAIR OF FACE'

David had had trouble all the fourteen years of his young life. The trouble
was that even as a baby he was far too good looking for his own
good. Blond-haired, blue-eyed and chubby; every mother's dream. By the time
he'd started school he'd lost his baby chubbiness, but not his mop of
frizzy unmanageable hair. He sauntered through junior school and the first
couple of years of secondary school, his looks guaranteeing he would never
have any problems with his teachers. Petty misbehaviour was over-looked,
poor worked was ignored and he had plenty of friends. Whenever he was
caught out in any minor misdemeanour, a smile and flash of his blue eyes
always worked.

His real problems started when he was 13. Puberty hit him suddenly like a
ton of bricks. He grew taller, more muscular, and a damn sight more
handsome if that were possible. And at last he started to grow hair where
he most desired it. The girls found him irresistible, but he wasn't ready
for them yet and found them rather a nuisance on the whole.

He was happy enough with the boys he'd made friends with, and they were
more than happy to be seen in his company. It was at the age of 13 that his
parents started to allowed him enough freedom to wander round town by
himself, which is where his problems started.

He was in one of the public toilets relieving a full bladder when he became
uncomfortably aware he was being started at. This was nothing unusual and
he was well-used to it of course, but this was the first time it'd happened
in a toilet, and so blatantly. The shock made him turn and stare back at
the man, leaving his soft three inch dick hanging out of his trousers, held
lightly between his finger and thumb.

The man whispered hoarsely that he and 'it' were very nice, very nice
indeed. Stuffing his dick back in his trousers in a panic, he ran for his
life. Five minutes later when he felt safe, he stopped and thought about
what the man had said. The comment on his looks he disregarded as usual,
but the one about his dick? He'd never given that a seconds thought in all
his years although he was just as proud of that part of his body as he was
of everything else.

He examined it in bed that night, and unselfconsciously agreed that it was
indeed good looking. It looked even better when it was hard, as it had been
a lot the past few months.

In his innocence he told one of his best mates the story and was only a bit
surprised when his friend asked if they could compare to see what was so
special about David's. Within five minutes, they knew there was no
difference at all, even when they were hard. Just to check it out, they
even felt the same. When they orgasmed two minutes later, they both agreed
that that was amazing, and from that time on, got to practice and compare
almost every day.

David soon learned to pick up the signals from other men and boys which
meant they were interested in sharing orgasms. He liked the feelings he
got, and never went short of people to help him out.

Now, in his fourteenth year, he had a problem. He'd enjoyed some fantastic
times with most of the boys of his age at school, and a good many men in
the toilets. Unfortunately he also had built up a reputation for himself,
which cost him almost all his old friends. The few he had managed to hang
on to were only after one thing, and although he was always ready to
provide it, he felt used, and not to say abused. The taunts he accepted
unwillingly and the fights he was getting into more and more frequently
were getting worse.

The only consolation was that he learned he could earn money in the public
toilets, and did so in large amounts. Once again, his good looks and
willing participation paid well.

It only took a little while to make many new friends at school, although it
was costing him almost every penny he earned in little gifts and presents,
or the use of his body for a few minutes. The only thing he missed were
friends who didn't want his body.

Still, he thought, as he was being sucked off by yet another man in the
toilets, I'll always have friends like this and there'll be plenty of time
to get some proper friends once I've earned just a little more money.


'TUESDAY'S CHILD IS FULL OF GRACE' Tuesday was confession day. For the past
four years, ever since he was eight years old, he'd been to confession. To
begin with Michael had treated the event as a routine to be endured; he
never had anything serious to confess and it seemed to be a waste of
time. Two years ago, things changed for him though. He joined the choir and
spent a very happy few hours each week in rehearsal, messing about with the
other choristers and having a pretty good time, even though he had to
endure the singing which he didn't like all that much. The game of indoor
football was always fun, especially when Father Andy joined in. He was a
new, young member of the clergy and seemed to take an active part in all
the youth activities, but especially the choir and the sporting things the
parish organised.

It all started some weeks ago when Michael was in confession and he told
the Priest about some strange thoughts he's been having lately, mostly to
do with 'down below'. It kept getting hard when he was playing football, or
in the choir stalls. It happened especially when he looked at certain boys,
or they looked at him.

Father Andy always seemed interested in his confessions when he talked
about these feelings, and because he liked Father Andy, Michael sometimes
invented stuff to keep him talking. Not that he lied, of course, just
wishful thinking and things he thought the priest would like to hear. On
the fourth time he'd confessed about his thoughts, Father Andy had said
that perhaps Michael aught to think about having a private meeting with him
so's they could talk about them properly. Michael thought this was a good
idea and they agreed to meet after choir rehearsal. It must've been a good
idea, Michael thought, because he got hard again when he was running
home. And the other thing was that it had to be a secret between them
because it was done in the confessional.

The first time he went to see Father Andy, he was just a little bit
embarrassed because he was sat in front of him and they could see each
other as they talked. After a while, though, he got used to it and didn't
mind any more.  He even didn't mind when he got hard again whilst they were
talking, after all Father Andy had said that it happened to everybody, even
grown men sometimes. This surprised Michael, but when he saw Father Andy's
trousers, he knew it was true because he could see the lump.

The next time he went for his chat, Father Andy asked him if he ever
touched it when it was hard. Michael said that he had once or twice by
accident, but not very much. Then Andy said that perhaps it would be a good
idea if he did, because sometimes it would make it go down. It had to be
done in secret though, because it was very private. Michael did as he was
told, and he found that not only did it make it go down, but he felt
really, really good as well. Sometimes he even made it hard deliberately
so's he could play with it again and get the good feeling. When he told
Andy this (He'd said not to call him 'Father' when they were alone, but
that was another little secret), he said perhaps he aught to check that
he's doing it right, and that he would show him if he wanted. Michael said
he didn't mind as there was only the two of them there. To make sure they
were alone, Andy was even good enough to go and lock the door so's nobody
would come in and
 disturb them.

When Andy held his hard peter between his fingers, he sort of rubbed it up
and down for a bit. Michael was surprised that it seemed to get bigger at
first, but then he had a wonderful, funny feeling and shook all over. Once
that had happened, it went down nearly straight away. He was a bit sad when
it did that, but he knew now that he could get the same feeling again and
again, almost whenever he wanted so he didn't mind.

At the next meeting, Andy showed him again what to do, just in case he'd
forgotten. Michael hadn't forgotten though because he'd done it every day,
sometimes even twice. When Michael asked if grown men did it as well, Andy
sort of smiled a bit and said that some men do, but not all of them. Then
Michael asked if Andy did it, and he smiled some more and said that was one
of those questions you should never ask anybody. Michael felt a bit sad
when he said this, because he wanted to see if Andy did it the same as him.

Instead of answering him, Andy asked if some wet stuff ever came out of the
end of his peter when he rubbed it. Now this was strange because Michael
had felt sort of wet and sticky sometimes, especially if he shook and
shivered when he rubbed it a lot, but he'd forgotten about asking Andy
about it.

Andy said that this was normal as well, and as he got older, more and more
stuff would come out. He explained a bit about that's how babies are made,
but it was a bit complicated and Michael couldn't remember it all.

When they next met, and Andy was rubbing Michael's peter to see if any
stuff came out, Michael asked if he could see some of the stuff.

Andy said that the only way he could see any was if he made some for him,
and that if he did show him, it would have to be a big, big secret between
them. Michael said OK to this because he really wanted to see it.

They made sure the door was locked again, and Andy said that he'd have to
take his trousers off to show him properly. This was OK because Michael had
taken his down every time he came to see Andy now, and it was only fair in
a way.

When he took them off, Michael got a real big surprise. His peter was
really big, and hard as well. It was just the same as Michael's in a way,
but a lot, lot bigger. And he had hair all round it, lots of that as
well. Andy told him that everyone got hair down there when they got older,
it was a part of growing up he said. Michael asked if he could feel
it. That was sort of fair too because Andy had felt his lots of times.

Andy said he could, and when Michael put his hands on his peter, played
with it a bit and felt all through the hair and even underneath where the
sack-things are, Andy made a funny noise and said he was doing a good job.

Michael saw some of the wet sticky stuff on the end of Andy's peter, it
seemed to be leaking out of it. When Michael asked if that was the stuff
that made him wet and sticky, Andy said it was, but if rub it harder and
for a long time, then some other stuff comes out which is even
stickier. Michael was a bit fed up when Andy told him that he probably
wasn't big enough to make it yet, but he felt better when Andy said he
could rub his peter until the stuff came out if he wanted so's he could
have a look at it.

This was a good idea, and Michael just managed to get his whole hand round
Andy's peter and rubbed it and rubbed it. Soon it got a bit bigger just
like his did, but then Andy sort of shouted out a bit and white stuff came
shooting out of the end. It made Michael jump at first because it happened
so quick, but it was fun watching it shoot all over the place. He even got
a bit on his hand, which he licked off. It taste sort of salty and creamy,
not bad at all.

Shooting the stuff out must be hard work, Michael thought, because once
he'd stopped shooting it out, he fell on the chair, breathing ever so
hard. When Andy said it wasn't hard work, it was just so exciting that it
made you feel tired all over for a minute or two. So that was good as well
then; he was pleased he'd made Andy happy and excited, that was only fair
because he'd told him how to make himself feel happy.

When Andy asked at their next get-together if Michael liked the taste of
the white stuff, Michael said he did. And when he asked if he wanted to
make some more, Michael said he did, but could Andy rub his peter at the
same time to make him feel good as well.

He agreed to this, and they took their trousers off again. This time, Andy
got Michael to sit on his knee so's they could do it together, and that was
much better for them both. When Michael got the funny feeling, Andy stopped
for a minute, but when his peter got hard again, he did it some more. Then
Andy shot his stuff out again, and this time it went all up Michael's
belly. That was OK though, because Michael just wiped it all up and put it
in his mouth.

Michael was a bit sad because he guessed that there wasn't much more Andy
could tell him or show him about his funny feelings, but he got more
cheerful when Andy told him that there was another, very special way, that
Michael could have some more of the white stuff to eat if he wanted.

He got very excited at this, and couldn't wait until their next meeting.

When he got to Andy's house the next Tuesday, they seemed to spend a lot of
time talking at first and so Michael had to ask him when he could taste
some more of his stuff made 'in the special way'.

Andy asked him if he really wanted to know about this, and Michael nodded
his head, saying, 'yes, yes, please.'

Once they'd taken their clothes off, Andy got Michael to kneel in front of
him and he told him to gently put his peter in his mouth. Michael thought
this might be dirty at first, but once he'd cleaned it with his tongue, it
didn't taste of anything. Then Andy got Michael to rub his peter with his
hand, and sort of suck at the same time with his mouth. The sucking bit
made sense to Michael, cause if he didn't, then all the white stuff would
leak from his mouth.

Lots and lots of stuff came out of Andy's peter when he shot it out, but
Michael was ready for it, and managed to swallow nearly all of it, which he
thought was neat.

Andy didn't say anything about coming the next week, but Michael went
anyway. When they got to the room, he asked if he could taste some more of
his stuff and Andy said he could. He even said that the more of it he ate,
the better it would be. Michael didn't quite understand this, but did it
anyway.

On his way home, he felt really, really happy. His priest, Father Andy, had
taught him a lot the past few weeks, and he'd said that there was lots more
he could teach him, but it had to be a secret between them. Michael guessed
that this was because he was now full of grace and he was somebody special,
and if that was all it took, then he wanted to be filled every week.

'WEDNESDAY'S CHILD IS FULL OF WOE' Tarek was pissed off - seriously pissed
off.

It was half past six in the morning on a school day and he'd had another
sleepless night. And the reason was the same as always.

A month ago, he'd decided to admit to himself that he was homosexual. 'Gay'
wasn't a word he'd think of using; there wasn't anything at all `gay' or
good about the way he felt. Ever since he was aware of what sex was he knew
he was different to other boys, different in ways which he knew weren't
right.

To begin with, he'd explored himself and other boys as all kids do, and
enjoyed it. As he grew up he realised that his religion, his culture and
his family refused to admit even the existence of such a thing as
homosexuality, let alone understand it. From about the age of eleven he'd
fought to hide his feelings, struggled not to look at boys in any way other
than 'normal'. He'd lost the battle even before it began. Sly glances at
boys changing for sports, envious stares at boys swimming in tight trunks,
gut-wrenching jealousy of those few boys he knew who accepted their
difference from the norm.

The final straw had been two weeks ago when he'd arrived home with one of
his few friends after a football game at school. As it was so close to home
time, neither had bothered to change out of their kit. Tarek, knowing how
his family felt about displays of naked flesh had changed into jeans and
T-shirt as Jay had had a Coke.

They had sat talking in the living room for an hour or so, Tarek managing
mostly to keep his eyes away from the very obvious bulge in Jay's
shorts. His loose jeans he knew from experience would hide his own
erection, even as big as it was.

His father, when he arrived home from work, didn't fail to notice Jay's
bulge, or the exposed flesh of his legs. No sooner had Jay left when he
told Tarek exactly what he thought, and in no uncertain terms.

"That boy isn't decent, he isn't a nice boy. What sort of boy is he? All
that naked skin and those disgusting clothes. No decent boy would be seen
like that, and his family should be ashamed of him. You are not to see him
again."

There was a lot more too, but Tarek had stopped listening, he'd heard it
all before. This time though, he felt different. He was angry. Angry with
his father, angry with the world he represented, and most of all angry with
himself for not being able to do anything about any of it. As soon as he
decently could, he took himself upstairs to his room and lay on his bed,
calmer but still pissed off. Checking his bedroom door was locked he
unfastened his belt, slipped his zip down and pushed his hand under the
elastic of his underpants.  Holding his slowly erecting penis, his mind was
a confused mish-mash of conflicting thoughts. Why did he feel so guilty at
doing something he enjoyed and made him feel so good, and he was sure was
so natural? Hell, even with the door closed and locked, he was too
embarrassed to take his own clothes off and take pleasure in his own
body. Forcing himself to try and overcome his irrational feelings for once,
he lifted his hips up and pushed his jeans and pants down to his
ankles. 'At least I can pull them up quick if I hear anyone coming,' he
justified to himself.

He peered guiltily down at his erection, all six magnificent inches of
it. Slowly it wilted as he stared at it, soon burying itself in its nest of
newly-grown black curly hair. Closing his eyes to avoid seeing it, he
gently massage it back to life, thinking of Jay in his virginal white
shorts.

The erotic thoughts and slowly increasing speed of his hand soon had him on
the edge. Gripping his testicles in one hand, and his prick in the other,
he brought himself to a rapid, but non-the-less very satisfying orgasm as
an image of Jay, sans shorts this time, flashed through his mind.

Reaching over for the box of Kleenex, he carefully cleaned himself up and
fastidiously wrapped the soiled paper in another tissue and stuffed it in
his pocket to be disposed of in a litter bin the next time he left the
house.

As much as he'd enjoyed his solitary orgasm, he felt more comfortable as he
dressed himself and sat at his desk to start his homework.

He was sure his mother and father knew what he'd done alone in the sanctity
of his room when he joined them for dinner; the atmosphere was definitely
strained. Thankfully, in one way at least, he was relieved when his father
started on about Jay again. Tarek remained silent and morose as he listened
to another tirade about Jay's immorality. When Tarek pointed out mildly
that it'd be impossible to avoid Jay completely at school as they were in
the same class, his father became really angry and banished him to his
room.

It was one of the most difficult conversations he'd ever had the following
day when he met Jay. At first Tarek had decided simply not to talk to Jay
very much and slowly let their friendship wither and die, but when he saw
him in the playground before school, he knew he couldn't do that. The very
least he could do was to tell him why. And if he told him why they couldn't
be friends, then as far as he was concerned he might just as well become a
hermit. They met in the library at lunch-time, and briefly Tarek explained
the situation, painfully and almost tearfully.

"I don't understand," Jay replied when he'd finished. "What's his problem?
You and me are the same religion and my parents aren't like that."  Tarek
didn't understand either and edged even closer to tears as he realised he
couldn't explain. They spent what remained of their lunch-break trying to
understand Tarek's father's logic, but didn't get very far.. They did
however talk about a lot of other things in the interim, everything that is
except the one thing Tarek wanted to talk about, his feelings towards Jay.

"Tell you what," Jay said as the bell for afternoon school sounded, "Come
to my house after school and we'll talk some more. If your dad asks why
you're late, tell him you were with me at my house telling me why we
couldn't be friends. And if he tries to have a go at you about that, ask
him to ring my father and ask him why w can't be friends."

This sounded OK to Tarek and he felt a lot better as they went to
class. Jay even putting a friendly arm on Tarek's shoulder, which did
wonders for his feelings, and a great deal more for his dick.

Straight after school they went to Jay's house and hit his bedroom. It was
the first time Tarek had been in anyone's bedroom other than his own of
course and he stared around, taking note of every little thing to store in
his memory, knowing he'd never get another chance.

"So, tell me more," Jay said. "Keep talking, I'm gonna get changed out of
these damn school things."

Tarek watched, stunned into silence as Jay undressed, casually dropping his
clothes where he stood, eventually standing naked except for his underpants
and looking at Tarek.

"Well? Go on then, talk to me," he said, completely unabashed by his
nudity..

Tarek managed to stammer out a few sentences, completely unable to takes
his eyes off Jay, and his groin in particular.

Jay sensing something was disturbing Tarek looked at back at him as he
searched for some clean shorts to put on. The first thing that struck him
was his face. Complete and utter shock, but also mixed up with something
else he wasn't sure of. His mind did a somersault as he then noticed huge
tent in Tarek's trousers. Now there was a thought! Tarek's family was more
prudish than he thought if Tarek got a hard-on just by seeing him in his
pants. Tarek really did have a problem, but one he thought he could sort
out for him.

"Stand up a minute," Jay said taking a step towards him.

"I ... err ... can't," Tarek stammered out, acutely aware that Jay would
see his erection if he so much as moved an inch.

"Bollocks!" Jay said, choosing a word he knew would shake Tarek out of his
obvious embarrassment. "Just 'cause you've a boner? Don't be stupid. I get
twenty a day! Stand up."

Reluctantly Tarek got to his feet, more embarrassed than ever, acutely
aware the cause of it was in full view of Jay.

"Right." said Jay. "We're gonna play a game. Take your jacket and tie off."
Tarek did as he was told and stood in front of Jay, curious as to what sort
of game they could play in this situation.

"Know a game called 'Nervous'?" Jay asked.

Tarek shook his head.

"Right. This's how it goes. I put a finger on your body somewhere and we
count to ten. I can move my finger where I like, but I gotta stop when you
say 'nervous' or we get to ten. Understand?"

"Think so," Tarek said suddenly afraid of where this might lead.

"Good. If you say 'nervous' before we get to ten, then we add the time left
to your time when you do me. Fair?"

"Guess so." Tarek replied, nervous even before the game started

"Great. I'll start." Jay said, putting both his hands on Tarek's shoulders.

"Start counting." Tarek started. "One. ... Two. ... Three ...."

Jay put his index finger on Tarek's forehead and drew a couple of small
circles, then ran his finger down his cheek towards his lips.

"Ten." said Tarek quietly, wishing he'd counted more slowly.  "Your turn,"
Jay laughed. "Come on, it's good fun, you'll see."

Tarek did exactly the same thing as Jay, afraid to go any further.

"Right. You get the idea. Now the next thing is that we must start from
where the other one stops. You stopped here." He put his finger on Tarek's
lips. "So I start here."

The game progressed until Tarek was completely relaxed and enjoying it. It
was the first time he felt he was able to touch anyone else in almost any
place he wanted and not feel guilty about it. After five minutes, Jay said
that Tarek aught to take his shirt off as it wasn't quite fair. He sensed
that this was a giant step forwards in what was a surprisingly erotic game,
and quickly threw it off.

"That's better!" Jay grinned. "Now we're almost equal."

The game continued, their touches getting closer and closer to where they
both knew it would end.

Tarek took a sharp breath in as Jay's finger reached the top of his
trousers.

"Nervous!" he suddenly said, wishing instantly that he'd kept his mouth
shut.

Jay grinned and removed his finger. "Three seconds added on."

Tarek started from just above Jay's underpants, and not quite having the
nerve to go down the front of them and over the now immense bulge, diverted
his finger to the side and went along the outside of his leg.

As he reached the hem of the leg, Jay giggled and said, "Nervous. That
tickles!"

The game re-started with Tarek's finger only a few inches from Jay's groin,
and once again, not having the nerve, tracer a route back up towards Jay's
navel, stopping just below his belly-button. Jay drew a few circles first,
Tarek watching incredulously as the finger gave him the most incredible
feelings ever. This time, he managed not to say anything, making sure by
biting his lip almost painfully.

On the count of ten, Jay's finger stopped just inside the top of Tarek's
trousers. "No going backwards," he whispered. "New rule."

Tarek was so aroused by now that there was no way he would have gone back
anyway. All he wanted was to hear that Jay was willing to go further. He
ran his finger round the outline of Jay's cock, feeling it throb
expectantly as he did so.

"Trousers?" Jay whispered before he started his turn.

Tarek undid the clasp and let them fall to the floor.

"Great," Jay said, and started to play his fingers, all of them, along
Tarek's now leaking cock.

There was no next move, or at least, not in this particular game. When
Tarek's turn had finished, Jay pushed Tarek back onto his bed and lay down
alongside him, their joint erections painfully obvious, even restrained as
they were. Without saying a word he slid a hand under the waistband of
Tarek's pants and grasped his red hot cock gently.

"Nervous?" he whispered.

Tarek was way beyond speaking, and simply shook his head.

"That's good, he said quietly as he placed Tarek's hand on top of his own
boner. "That game's over. Let's play another one"

Two minutes later and their underwear joined the rest of their clothes on
the floor somewhere as the two boys lost themselves in each other, Tarek
almost fainting with the astonishing sensations he was receiving from his
best friend.

Jay too was over the moon. For months he'd dreamed of something like this,
but until today hadn't a clue how to go about it. Tarek wasn't the first
boy he'd done things with, but he was certainly the one he'd fancied the
most..

It took them all of thirty seconds for them both to cum, massively,
painfully and noisily. But happily.

Tarek automatically started to search for some paper tissues, or to find
his clothes, but he was stopped by a gentle hand on his chest.

"Slow down. Rest a bit," Jay whispered. "I like it like this, let's just
lay here together for a bit."

Tarek did as he was asked and sighed as Jay held him lightly in his arms.

"Was that OK?" Jay asked quietly in Tarek's ear. "I thought it was
brilliant."

"Yeah," Tarek answered, still in a bit of a stupor. "It was good."

Once they'd gathered their thoughts together, Jay reached over Tarek,
pulled him closer and looked him in the eyes.

"It's only a game," he smiled happily, "Nobody hurt, no harm done. It's
only a game. Good one though, isn't it!"

Tarek laughed a little, realised that what Jay said was exactly right, and
hugged him. "Thanks," he said, "Thanks a lot. You'll never know how much
this meant to me."

"Bollocks!" Jay laughed, "It's only a game!"

"Yeah. But I'm not nervous any more. Can we play it again sometime? Soon?"

The looked at each other and grinned, both knowing the answer.

"Damn!" Tarek shouted as he saw the time. "Gotta go!"

He searched for his clothes and dressed hurriedly. Just before he rushed
home, he looked at Jay, walked over to him and once more whispered his
thanks.. He almost kissed him, but thought better of it and gave him a big
hug instead.

Fortunately he got home before his dad and had just enough time to change
out of his school clothes. Coming downstairs he was more relaxed and
cheerful than he had been for weeks and it showed.  The evening meal was
half-way over when his father asked, "Seen that boy yet?"

"Yes," Tarek said simply.

"And?"

Tarek put his knife and fork down and looked at his father. "We're still
friends and I'm seeing him tomorrow for a game of football. If you don't
like it, then could you telephone him and explain to him why we can't be
friends?"

His father said nothing. He looked at Tarek, got up from the table and left
the room. Tarek looked at his mother. She continued eating slowly and said
nothing but smiled at her son gently, nodding her head slightly. Her boy
was growing up.

>From that time onwards, whenever Tarek entered a room his father was in,
he would wordlessly get up and leave, not even giving him a glance.

Each night Tarek called at Jay's house on the way home from school, and
went to bed happy that Jay and he were now the best of friends in every
important way. He was pissed off with his father though, whom he still
loved, almost as much as Jay. Despite his best efforts he couldn't find a
way of getting him to talk to him again. He woke up early every morning,
still upset, but determined to find a way out of the situation. After all,
he reasoned, his father must be as full of woe as he was.


`THURSDAY'S CHILD HAS FAR TO GO'

Eleven-year-old Santos had just changed schools. He'd left his junior
school where he was one of the oldest boys, and started his secondary
school where he was one of the youngest. It was hard going from being one
of the top dogs to the lowest form of school-boy life, a newbie. As if that
wasn't painful enough, he also had to cope with his older brother, who at
the age of 13, was already going to the same school. They'd always been
good friends as well as brothers and always did things together, not always
what their parents would have wished, then what young boys do? But now he'd
just told him to stay away from him when they were at school, and not to
pester him. They'd had a row about this on the way and at first Santos was
pissed of with him; he'd been hoping for a bit of support and help on his
first few days, but once Dimitri had told him that it just wasn't cool to
be seen messing about with your kid brother, especially since he was a new
boy as
 well, but that they were still good buddies, then it got a bit better. In
fact it worked out OK, and after a couple of weeks he wondered what all the
fuss had been about.  Another reason that Dimitri didn't want Santos
hanging around with him came to light after the first month. One Thursday
morning Dimitri had forgotten to pick a note up from home about a school
trip or something, and Santos had been told to give it to him at
school. He'd tried to tell his mum that he'd been told to stay away from
his brother at school, but she just laughed, ruffled his hair and told him
not to be so silly.

Santos went looking for Dimitri at dinner time to give him the note. When
he asked Dimitri's friends where he was, all he got were some funny looks
and unfriendly 'piss off' comments. It wasn't until the third or fourth
time of asking that someone said to try the music rooms. He thought they
were making fun of him again at first as he wasn't in the slightest bit
interested in music, but as he'd not got a clue as to where else he could
be, he shrugged his shoulders and made his way to the music block. Strictly
speaking it was out of bounds at break times, but as it was never locked,
Santos knew that he may well be in there, he certainly wasn't anywhere else
he could see.

He wasn't there of course, and had decided to give up trying to find
him. Passing a toilet, he thought he'd take advantage of it and pushed the
door open. Before he could open it fully, he heard boys voices inside, and
stopped, deciding what to do. They shouldn't have been there, and neither
should he for that matter. That, together with the fact that they were
certainly older boys, made him nervous and he'd just about made his mind up
to leave as quietly as he could when he recognised a voice.

"Come on, hurry up. We ain't got much longer. The afternoon bell will go
soon, I've done you so you gotta do me. Quick." It was Dimitri.

"Ok, Ok," a second voice said, "Push your trousers down so's I can get at
it."

Santos was dumbstruck. He'd more than half an idea what they were doing,
and was shocked. Closing the door as quietly as he could, he crept out of
the building, his mind a turmoil.  He and his brother had shared a bedroom
all their lives, and apart from the occasional playful grope, they'd never
taken much notice of each other's bits. He knew that they had bigger dicks
than most boys their age, and they even had hair before the other boys did;
that much they'd learned from casual observation. Dimitri had once told him
that was because their mum and dad were Greek, and Greeks always had bigger
dicks and balls, and they got hair before anyone else did. They'd even
compared erections sometimes, Dimitri being about an inch or so bigger that
Santos. But they'd never touched each other when they were hard, and
certainly nothing like what Dimitri was doing now.

At first Santos was going to talk to Dimitri about it when they were in bed
later that night, but thought better of it. He wasn't sure if Dimitri would
get angry or not at his having found out his secret, and even then not
knowing if he would tell him what he was doing, and who with. Instead he
watched his brother get undressed with an interest he hadn't shown
before. His dick and balls didn't look any different to what they normally
did, and Santos wondered who it was who'd last held them and jerked him
off. Santos slid his hand under the covers and cradled his boner, rubbing
it gently as he thought of it. It was a nice thought.

Dimitri smiled across at his brother, guessing what he was doing and his
dick hardened up just slightly as he walked across to his bed. Within five
minutes he was doing the same thing himself, thinking.

It took a week for Santos to satisfy his curiosity. There were two other
boys Dimitri disappeared into the toilets with, both of whom he knew
slightly.. One was Max, a boy in the same class as his brother and the
other was John, a neighbour of theirs. Max was a bit smaller than Dimitri
with black curly hair and was always smiling. John was a year younger than
Dimitri, but big for his age, fair haired and freckly. He always wore tight
trousers as well, which made his dick and balls stand out. They didn't
always go to the toilets together, but Santos noticed that at least two of
them went in there everyday. He got a hardon thinking about it, and wished
he could join in with them.

Another week went by with Santos getting more and more frustrated. It was
hard going to bed at night, watching his brother and knowing what he was
doing, but unable to talk about it. He'd even let Dimitri see him with a
boner a couple of times, but he hadn't said anything. In the end he'd had
to go to the bathroom to jerk off. He couldn't quite cum yet, but the
feelings were there and he loved doing it; dreaming of his brother, or Max,
or John, made his orgasms more intense than they'd ever been. It was whilst
he was wanking himself off one evening when an idea came to him. He
realised that the toilets were at the back of the building, and if he stood
under the open window, he could probably hear what was going on, and
depending on what he heard, he would think of the next thing to do.

He was in luck. The following day he stood under the window and heard
Dimitri and Max's voices in the toilet.

"Christ, I need this," Dimitri said as they came through the door, "I've
had a wicked boner all morning."

"Me too," Max replied. "Let's both get undressed together."

"Yeah, but not all the way though, just our trousers and pants. Remember
what happened last time?"

"Oh, yeah!" Max giggled. "OK then, let's get 'em off."

Santos listened intently, awestruck by their incredible conversation,
fingering his now solidly erect boner through his pockets. Finally he
couldn't stand it any more and without a moment's hesitation ran round the
building and in through the main door. Slowing down and treading as softly
as he could, he pushed open the toilet door and crept in. He was hidden
from their view by the modesty wall just inside the door, but there was no
need for him to see what was happening, the excited short gasps told him
exactly what he need to know.

"Wanna suck it?" he heard Max say.

"Yeah, but not now. Let's do that after school at your house. Just make me
cum now, I'm gonna burst if I don't."

The room went quiet as the two boys pleasured each other; the only sounds
being the moans of delight as they approached their joint orgasms.

"Fuck it! Here it comes!" Dimitri gasped out a few short seconds later.

"Me too, don't stop for God's sake," Max replied, "Aaaagh! Aaaagh!" he
suddenly groaned.

"Christ!" Dimitri responded, "Ugh! Ugh! Ugh."

Santos' original plan was to 'accidentally' walk in on them and catch them
at it, but as he heard their orgasmic grunts and groans, a better idea
occurred to him. Holding on to his now red-hot cock, he crept out as
quietly as he came in and rushed to find another toilet.

He jerked himself off frenziedly and passionately as he thought of the
scene just played out a few metres away from where he was. His young body
trembled and shook violently as he pictured his brother and his friend
enjoying themselves, and what was even better, imagined him mixed up with
them. As he calmed down from the intensity of an extremely hard dry cum, he
put a plan together, even more determined to make himself part of their
little gang.

Dimitri was over an hour late back from school that night and when asked
where he'd been, told his mother that he'd stayed at school to do his
homework for a change. She smiled at him, pleased that he was at last
making an effort with his schoolwork. Santos said nothing to disillusion
her.

Getting his timing right, Santos undressed with his brother that night, and
before he had chance to get into bed, asked him, "When's the last blow job
you had?"

Dimitri stopped, mid-stride, and looked at his brother. "What?" he said not
believing what he'd just heard.

"Last blow job. When'd you have it." Santos said, relieved to see his
brother was just shocked at the directness of the question and not angry.

Dimitri looked at his kid brother, too worried about what he appeared to
know to be angry. He also saw he had a boner. A big one and it was pointing
straight at him. Dimitri's cock hardened ever so slightly.

"What have you heard?" Dimitri said, trying not to sound as nervous as he
was.

"Nothing," Santos said, knowing now that he'd got him. "But I know what
you've been doing with Max. And John."

Dimitri sat down on his bed with a thump. His dick softened instantly.

"How'd you know? I mean what do you think we've been doing?" he said,
confused and looking like a frightened rabbit caught in car headlights.

"I know why you were late home tonight and where you were." Santos took
pains to make himself sound as non-threatening as he could and spoke
softly, even smiling at his brother. "And what you were doing!" he added
with a giggle.

Dimitri blushed deeply and didn't say anything.

"Would half-past four be about right?" Santos said. "With Max?"

"How'd you know?"

Santos told him the story, starting with the note and ending when he heard
Max and his brother talking- among other things - in the toilets.

"You were there?" Dimitri stammered out, "When we were, .........."

"Yeah." Santos laughed, "Good wasn't it!"  "Shit!" Dimitri whispered to
himself.

Santos began to feel sorry for his brother who was obviously now very
worried.

"Don't panic," he said, "I'm not gonna tell anybody, honestly. I think it's
cool."

Dimitri looked up into Santos' face and decided he was being
serious. Santos, for his part moved across and sat on the bed alongside
him.

"I mean it," he whispered, resting a hand on his brother's naked thigh. "I
think it's OK. But why didn't you tell me before? And why don't you do it
with me?" he added, smiling, hitting him lightly on the arm and tightening
his grip on his thigh. "It'd be alright you know."

They looked at each other in a new light. Dimitri was not only relieved
that his secret was safe, but he appeared to have a new partner as well as
a new brother! And Santos, for his part, was glad all the secretiveness was
over and he too could look forward to a new and more exciting relationship.

"Tell you what," Santos whispered, "Why don't we do something about this?"
He nodded down to his throbbing erection, wrapping a hand round it to make
a point. "Please?" he added.

Grinning, Dimitri pulled Santos down onto the bed and did as he was asked,
his young brother smiling happily and transferring his grip to his big
brothers rapidly rising erection.

"That's nice!" they said together. "And we've got all night!" Santos
sighed..

"More than that little bro.," Dimitri whispered in his ear, "We've got the
rest of our lives to go yet!"

'FRIDAY'S CHILD IS LOVING AND GIVING'

At 16 years of age, Jason was the best tennis coach the school ever had,
even better than any of the teachers. He wasn't that good in the
inter-school tennis matches, not even making the team unless they were
desperate, but he had an amazing talent for coaching the younger boys, and
they did win their tournaments which was all that mattered. The boys he
coached loved their sport, even turning up on cold wet nights for practice
in the gymnasium. The teachers put the youngsters enthusiasm down to the
closeness in age of the boys, and didn't question it any further. Jason,
and his boys, knew better however.

It'd started over a year ago when despite his mediocrity, Jason turned up
every Friday for training. He knew he wasn't all that good, and no matter
how much he practiced he wasn't going to improve. It wasn't really the
tennis he was interested in: the opportunity to see the younger boys
changing was simply too much to resist; he simply loved watching them dress
and undress, few taking any great pains to hide their tackle when they did
so. Jason, being the oldest amongst them took it upon himself to be the
first in and last out of the changing rooms to make sure things 'went OK'
as he explained to the teachers, who were duly grateful.

It wasn't long before one or two boys realised what Jason was up to and
rather than spoil his fun and run the risk of having the teachers back in
charge, actively encouraged him. To begin with Jason didn't know what was
going on, but when one boy in particular seemed to delight in showing
himself off more than was necessary and give him a knowing smile at the
same time, it began to dawn on him. Reluctantly Jason backed off for a week
or two, making sure he was well out of the way as much as he could. It was
also noticeable that the boys performance dropped off for those two weeks
and despite trying his best, Jason just couldn't seem to get them back on
form.

On the third week, Jason took his main tormentor on one side before he got
changed and asked him what the problem was with their tennis.

"You don't seem to care about us as much anymore," he said. "You're never
there when we get changed, or afterwards either."

"But what difference does that make?" Jason asked.

The youngster giggled and said, "You used to watch us getting undressed and
it made us all excited and we played better."

Jason sat there for a minute or two, thinking. "You mean, ........?"

The boy laughed again, "Of course. We were looking at your boner as
well. Didn't you know?"

"No," Jason replied, blushing. "I didn't."

"Well, now that's sorted, does that mean you'll be back with us then?"
Jason nodded and smiled weakly at the boy.

They played much better that evening, and Jason was treated to a special
show after the training, one which left both him and the boys in absolutely
no doubt as to why.

The next Friday one of the boys, who'd been playing badly all evening
sidled up to Jason and sat next to him, watching the others play.

"Don't know what's wrong tonight," he said to Jason. "I just don't seem to
have the incentive."

Jason looked at him and saw the weak smile he had.

"Don't worry," he said, "We all have off-days." He rested a hand on the
boy's knee as he tried to comfort him.

The lad lifted his leg just the smallest amount and moved ever so slightly
closer to Jason. "Perhaps I need a bit more incentive," he whispered,
staring Jason in the face.

Alarm bells rang in Jason's head. He didn't mean ..... He couldn't possibly
want ....?

"What sort of incentive?" Jason asked, his voice trembling slightly.

"Well, you know, ..." he looking meaningfully at his groin where he
displayed an erection, obvious even through his jock strap.

Jason took the bull by the horns and taking his life in his hands said,
"OK.. If you can win the next match, then I'll give you a reward."

He won his match easily, his opponent startled by the amazing change in his
performance. Grinning broadly, the lad ran across to Jason and sat next to
him, glowing red with exertion and sweating profusely.

"See, it works!" he giggled. "I won!"

"Yeah, so I see," Jason said, wondering now just what he'd got himself
into..  Getting changed afterwards, the boy took his time, making sure that
Jason saw his semi-erect prick as often as he could. Eventually there were
just three boys left, Jason, his protege and his friend. Just as Jason was
wondering what would happen next, the two boys had a quick whispered
conversation following which the intruder left, giving Jason a wide grin
and wink as he closed the door behind him.

"So?" the boy said looking at Jason. "Where's my reward?" Jason stood up
and walked towards him, stopping a metre away.

"You sure about this?"

"Yeah," the lad grinned, "I worked for it, and you promised as well. So, we
gonna?"

Jason had never been in this situation before, in fact he'd never had sex
with anyone before, except himself. Neither, he suspected, had the boy in
front of him.

"Done this before?" Jason whispered.

The boy shook his head. "No. Never, but I've wanted to. What do we do
first?"

"Dunno." He took a step forwards and pressed his hand against the lad's
swollen groin. "But it can't be difficult can it?" he grinned.

They hurriedly stripped off, throwing what few clothes they were wearing
onto the benches. They stood facing each other, as naked as they day they
were born, sporting huge erections and grinning like Cheshire
cats. Apprehensively they took the final step towards each other and
reached down to their groins. Grasping each other's steel-hard boners, they
gasped as they felt fingers other than their own tighten round their
dripping cocks for the very first time.

"That's nice," Jason said, starting to masturbate his friend.

"Yeah," he sighed.

Resting their foreheads together they stared down as they began to jerk
each other off, taking time once in a while to look at each other and grin.

"Yours's nice," the lad said quietly. "And big."

"So's yours," Jason whispered. "Very nice."

It was the first time for both of them, and despite the novelty and
eroticness of the situation they managed to stave off their orgasms for a
full five minutes before Jason gasped, "I'm cumming."

"So'm I," the lad breathed out, "Quick."

When they came, their joint spasms erupted seeming litres of hot, steaming
jism all over their stomachs and legs, spurt after spurt after spurt
jetting out to cover their young bodies as never before. Exhausted, they
collapsed against each other, breathing heavily.

"That was bloody fantastic!" the lad sighed, "Never cum like that before."

"Me neither!" Jason agreed. "That was good," he sighed.

"Yeah."

Still grinning inanely at each other, they took a quick, tepid, shower and
got dressed. The last thing Jason did before locking the doors behind him
was to throw a bucket of water over the floor to hide the evidence of their
fun.

The following Friday, the same situation built up, but this time with the
friend who was left out in the cold last week. Jason found it was just as
good as before; better in fact because he knew what to expect and the lad
seemed more experienced as well. As it turned out, quite a few of the team
were already in an ad hoc jerk-off group, and they welcomed Jason into
it. Those few boys who weren't a part of the group soon changed their minds
when they realised they were outsiders, and as a result their tennis
improved beyond recognition.

'SATURDAY'S CHILD WORKS HARD FOR A LIVING'

Thomas had been climbing up and down the inside of the workhouse chimneys
all morning, pulling a brush behind him and doing his best to sweep them
clean. He was sure it was lunch-time by now, but no one had told him to
come down yet, and he was sure he'd been forgotten about again. Still, he
thought, it'd only be dry bread and water again so he wasn't missing much,
but he was hungry all the same.  It was 1887 and the upright, prudish
Victorian English society was at its height. The Empire was doing well, the
industrial revolution was well under way, and for those that had it, money
could buy anything the heart desired. For those that had no money, life was
precarious, and cheap. Tom's mother had been born in the workhouse, lived
her short life in the workhouse and had died giving birth to Tom in the
workhouse. Tom had never lived anywhere else and at the age of nine years
old knew no life other than that bounded by the four high walls of the old
red-brick institution. As the property of the Managers, he was there to do
their bidding, whether it be chimney cleaning or working in the kitchens
scrubbing pots and pans.

He was getting a bit big for chimney cleaning now, several times he'd got
himself stuck in one of the smaller chimneys and had had to claw his way
out.. There were stories about boys who'd got stuck in them before and had
stayed there for days until their bodies had been found and dragged
out. This time he was lucky, he scrambled out of the chimney, shook the
soot and dirt from his hair and sat on the ridge, looking at the green
fields and forests away off in the distance with a heart-felt longing.

There were only two routes of escape from the workhouse; death or being
sold as a house-boy or servant to some rich family, or as a slave to a
miserly shopkeeper. Thomas yearned to get away from the workhouse, one way
or another. Even at his tender age he thought death might be preferable to
what the future held for him. Sighing, he turned back to his job and
started to descend another as yet unswept chimney.

Saturday he was called to the Beadle's office during the morning. Boys were
only summoned there in times of trouble, usually for punishment for
breaking one of the myriad rules the home ran on. Mr. Hitchcock, the
Beadle, was the man in charge: he had the power of life and death over all
the inmates of the workhouse, and lived extremely well on the proceeds of
their labours.. Not for him the dry bread or transparent broth the boys
lived on, he had roast meat every day and his rotund body showed it. In
trepidation, trying to work out what he'd done wrong this time, Thomas
tapped on the door.

"Come in, boy!" the resonant voice of the Beadle called out. Trembling, he
entered the warm, well-furnished room.

"Stand there," he was commanded as the manager pointed to a scrap of
sacking on the floor. "I don't want your dirt dropping on my clean floor."

Thomas did as he was told, clasping his hands together behind his back and
looking at the floor in front of him. Nobody looked directly at Mr
Hitchcock.

"This's him, My Lord" Thomas heard the man say, "Thomas. He ain't got no
last name. Mother's dead, never knew who his father was. All alone in the
world he is, and we gotta pay for his upkeep. Nothing but a drain on the
parish, that's what he is."

Thomas lifted his eyes just enough to see who the Beadle was talking to. He
was a tall, poshly- dressed man about twenty five years old, he
guessed. The man was eyeing him up carefully. What he saw was a thin,
pale-faced urchin clad in rags, bare-footed and grimy. Beneath that he also
saw a fair-haired (probably), handsome youngster, under-sized for his age,
but that was only to be expected. He took a step towards him and lifted the
boy's chin up with his malacca cane and said, "Open!"

"Mmmmm. Teeth all there, hands and feet complete."

Turning to Mr Hitchcock, he added, "He'll do. Get him scrubbed and send him
to my house today. "Two, I think we said?"

The man handed two gold sovereigns to the Beadle, who slipped them into his
pocket. Thomas was led out of the room by the Beadle's wife and taken to
the pump in the courtyard where she stripped Thomas completely. He hadn't
the time to feel embarrassed at his unaccustomed nudity before she set to
with a will, scrubbing him vigorously with a stiff yard- brush, the icy
cold water burning against the raw weals she was making on his white
skin. An hour later and he was being led through the mean streets by the
Beadle, kept close to him by the length of rope tied round his waist. They
arrived at a big house, white-painted with an enormous black front
door. The bell sounded in the distance and before long a black and white
uniformed maid opened the door and stared at the strange couple before
realising who they were.

"Tradesman round the back," she barked at them and slammed the door.

The Beadle was furious; he'd never been treated this way before, and in
front of the urchin as well. Seething with anger he strode off, dragging a
bemused Thomas behind him. By the time they reached the rear of the
building, he'd calmed down a little, realising that unless he was careful
he'd lose the two sovereigns he'd got for the boy.

The downstairs maid opened the door, took Thomas by the hand and led him
into the kitchen. She dismissed the Beadle with a curt nod of the head, who
turned on his heels and left before they change their minds about the
boy. Thomas stood in the middle of the floor, not having a clue why he was
there or what was expected of him. He crossed his hands in front of him and
stared at the floor.

"Well, now," the maid said in a kindly voice. "What's your name?" Thomas
looked up slightly and replied, "Thomas, miss." in a quiet
voice. "Good. Now then, Thomas, we'd better get you cleaned up and into
your new clothes before you get to meet his Lordship."  Thomas, long
accustomed to being told what to do without question, had a myriad of them
going through his mind, but as usual said nothing.

"Come on, then, come with me. They call me Helen," she said
cheerfully. "Let's get you in the bath first."

He was led through a maze of corridors until they entered a large, white
tiled room. Thomas hadn't ever seen a bath before, and was just a little
frightened as to what the big metal box thing was. He was even more
confused when it was filled with hot water and he was told to get
undressed. Trembling slightly he stripped, dropping his clothes where he
stood. He looked expectantly at the maid; this was the second time he'd
been naked in the same day, and in front of women too. Despite the lovely
warmth of the room, he was covered in goose bumps and trembling.

"Come on, get in," Helen said kindly, and took Thomas by the hand and
helped him step into the tub.

Taking a soft piece of cloth and some beautifully scented soap, she
carefully washed Thomas from head to foot, singing to herself quietly as
she did so. When she reached his groin, she picked up his genitals and
delicately cleaned them.

"How old are you?" she asked as she held Tomas's slowly hardening penis.

"Nine, I think," he stumbled out as he watched his dick harden. It'd never
done that before except sometimes at night when he was sleeping, and he was
amazed at the sight. Not knowing any better, he wasn't even embarrassed
about it, just very curious.

"Nine!" Helen said, sounding surprised, "I'd've thought you were older!"

Thomas looked down at himself again, his dick having expanded from its
normal two inches up at an astounding four or more inches. It felt
different too, sort of tingly and hot.

"Yes, well," the maid said suddenly as if coming out of a trance and
letting go of his dick, which, again to Thomas's surprise remained where it
was, sticking straight out in front of him.

Despite having had a wash earlier, Thomas stepped out of a bath of dirty
grey water and onto a soft white towel which the maid used to dry him with,
once again drying carefully around Thomas's groin, smiling to herself as
she did so. A set of brand new clothes was then produced as if by magic and
he was dressed in the finest material he'd ever seen.

So much had happened to Thomas today that he'd give up trying to work out
what was happening to him; not only had he left the workhouse for the first
time ever, but he'd been brought to a new house, bathed, given a set of new
clothes and was waiting to see what happened next. Whatever it was, it
wasn't cleaning chimneys or washing pots and pans - not in these clothes.

His worries were allayed somewhat when he was taken to what were obviously
the living quarters of the family. In the Drawing Room he was introduced to
Lord Stoke, the man he'd seen before at the workhouse. Once they were left
alone, the man spoke softly and kindly to Thomas, explaining that he was to
be his personal servant, to look after him in all ways and to take care of
his rooms and so on. Thomas remained stoically silent, not knowing what to
say, not even knowing if he was allowed to speak. He was shown around the
room, the various cupboards and drawers opened and the contents displayed
so he knew where things were kept: there was no chance he could remember
all this at once, and he took on a slightly bemused look. The man, "Just
call me 'Sir' " saw the look on Thomas and smiled. "Allright, that's enough
for one day. Let me show you where you sleep."

He opened a door Thomas hadn't noticed before in the corner of the
room. Inside it was a smaller version of the room he'd just left, with its
own cupboards, and a small bed.

"This's where you'll sleep," he was told. "I'll leave you here now, I'm
sure you're tired. Have a rest and I'll call upon you later."

Thomas sat on the bed, completely confused. He slowly put things together
and worked out that he was now owned by this man and it was his job to look
after him. Quite what this meant, he hadn't a clue, but he was happy enough
to take things as they came, grateful above all else that he seemed to have
left the workhouse behind him, for ever.

A week later, and Tomas had settled in to his new routine and was learning
fast. It was an easy job, and for the first time he wasn't dirty and grimy
all the time. The most shocking bit for him though was on the first
night. He had to help undress then man and help him wash. It was hard at
first because he was all fingers and thumbs, not knowing how shirts
unbuttoned or clothes were hung, but he soon learned. Even the sight of the
man, naked as Thomas had been, didn't worry him except that he seemed to
have hair everywhere, in places Thomas never dreamed that hair could grow
like under his arms, on his chest and between his legs!

During that same week, Thomas had grown to love the man as he'd never loved
anyone before. He was kind to him, spoke to him nicely and never beat him
even when he made a mistake. Thomas saw something in his eyes too, which
made him feel warm and comfortable inside. For the first time in his short
life, he was as happy as he could have been and would do anything to repay
him. The chance to pay him back came suddenly one night. The man had been
out late and had come home slightly drunk, not badly, but enough to wobble
about a little. Thomas got him undressed easily, but he decided to go to
bed without any night clothes on. This was OK because that was how Thomas
slept anyway, not having anything else to put on.

When he was about to leave and go to his own room, he grasped Thomas by the
hand lightly and said, "Stay here tonight, climb into bed with me."

Thomas undressed and got into bed. He trusted the man with his life, and
wasn't in the least bit afraid, in fact he was pleased he'd been asked to
sleep with him because that way he could be there all night just in case he
wanted anything.

Somehow during the night, Thomas had curled up against his master and had
his arms round his waist. When he half-woke in the early hours, he was
shocked at himself and tried carefully to extricate himself without waking
him up.

"Where you going?" the man asked sleepily.

"Nowhere, sir," Thomas said quietly. "Just getting my arm back."

Lord Stoke turned and smiled at him. "Leave it there, I like that. You
don't mind being here do you?"

"No, Sir, not at all. It makes me feel good."

"Excellent, Thomas. I hoped you'd say that. Shall I try to make you feel
even better?"

"I don't think you can, Sir, but you can try if you like."

Lord Stoke pulled Thomas closer to him and slid his hand down between them,
finally taking hold of Thomas's flaccid penis. It started to harden, and
despite Thomas's doubts, he started to feel even better than he did
before. He got butterflies in his tummy and a delicious tingly feeling
spreading all through him, starting from his dick.

"That's nice, Sir," Thomas whispered. "Thank you."

"Whilst we're in bed like this," Lord Stoke whispered back, "You needn't
call me 'Sir' so much, and don't need to keep saying 'thank you' and such
all the time."

"Than....... " Thomas started to say then changed his mind. "What shall I
call you then?"

"Call me Peter, but you mustn't ever let anyone hear you call me that, it
would mean very serious trouble for us both. And in return I shall call you
Tom. Is that all right?"

"Yes, Peter."

"May I kiss you?" Peter asked. "You are a very good-looking boy and I would
like to kiss you if I might."

Thomas smiled and nodded at him. It seemed he'd made his man very happy and
if he wanted to kiss him, or anything else for that matter, he would be
more than willing to oblige. They kissed each other for ages, the man
fondling and playing with Thomas's dick and balls all the time. He even
asked Tom to play with his as well. Tom knew that this would make the man
just as happy as he was and so was more than willing to do as he was asked.

It wasn't long before Tom's funny feelings got stronger and stronger and
soon he was moaning and writhing about the bed as he was being played
with. Then he went all stiff, lifted his bum off the bed and started to
gasp loudly, his dick getting even stiffer and hotter.

When he calmed down after what seemed like ages, he looked at Peter
questioningly.

"What happened?" he asked.

Peter explained a lot to him over the next hour or so, teaching him things
he hadn't dreamed of. He even showed Tom how to rub his dick up and down
so's he could do it to himself whenever he wanted, and more than that,
allowed him to rub Peter's dick until he made him cum. Tom thought that was
the best thing ever, it made his master really happy and they kissed for
ages afterwards.

In the morning when they woke up, Peter gave him a little kiss and asked if
Thomas was alright. When he said he was, he smiled and said that from now
on he would always sleep in his bed with him, but that it was to be their
little secret and nobody else must ever find out.

Thomas saw nothing wrong with this and said that he would be glad to do so
if it made him happy.

Over the next few weeks, Thomas and Peter had a wonderful time together,
doing all sorts of things which pleased them both. It was especially nice
when Peter taught him how to put his dick in his mouth and lick it and suck
it until he came. Peter would even do the same to him even though he
couldn't come yet, he didn't seem to mind though. He learned the best thing
ever late one night, even better that sucking or being sucked.

Peter had been out drinking with his friends again and had stayed out
late. Tom had got tired and climbed into bed to wait for him, but he'd
fallen asleep and had only woken when he felt his master climb in beside
him. Thomas almost cried because he'd let his master down so badly and
didn't calm down until Peter hugged him tightly and said that it didn't
matter. To try and maker up for being asleep, Tom dived under the
bedclothes and licked Peter's dick up and down until it was hard. He waited
until he could hear him moaning and sighing before he put it in his mouth
and started to suck it, lovingly and tenderly.

"Wait, Tom," Peter said from somewhere above him, "I want to try something
new. Would you like that?"

Tom poked his grinning head out from under the bedclothes and
nodded. Whatever it was, it must be good and if it was good, then he wanted
to try it.

"It might hurt a little, but not very much and not for long, and afterwards
you'll like it a great deal," Peter informed him.

Tom was used to pain, he'd born more of it than the man ever knew, and if
he could please Peter by suffering a little, then he would do it gladly.

Peter lay Tom on top of him so their dicks were laying almost side-by-side
and kissed him deeply and lovingly. After a while they were both as hard as
they could be and Peter was leaking out his pre-cumming.

"Sit up here, on my chest for a minute, Tom," Peter whispered. "Let me show
you something."

Tom liked sitting on his chest, usually he put his dick in Peter's mouth
and played with his dick and balls behind his back, but this time it was
different. Peter spread his pre-cumming all round Tom's back passage, even
pressing his finger in slightly to cover it properly. Tom guessed what he
was going to do next, and smiled to himself. He'd thought about this
before, but never dreamed that Peter would do it to him.  When they were
both wet and slippery with the stuff, Peter held his dick up and made Tom
sort of sit on it, just resting his bum hole on top of it.

"Ready?" Peter asked gently.

"Yes," Tom nodded, resting his hands on Peter's waist for support. Tom
eased himself down onto Peter's iron-hard dick, wincing slightly as it
pressed against the resisting muscle.

"Go slowly," Peter urged. "Take your time."

Determinedly, Tom tried again. Prepared for the pain this time, he relaxed
as much as he could and suddenly felt Peter's dick slip inside his
bum. There was an instant's agonizing pain which went just as fast as it
came, and Tom grinned broadly at Peter.

"Got it. It's in!" he sighed.

"I know," said Peter, looking at Tom with a new interest. 'This boy is
really something else!' he sighed to himself. Out loud he said, "It feels
wonderful."

"Yes, better than anything," Tom agreed wholeheartedly.

"Now," Tom was told, "Move yourself up and down a bit and tell me what it
feels like."

He lifted up slightly and felt Peter's massive cock slide out a little,
amazed that he could feel it so well.

"It feels fantastic!" he said, gasping, "I can feel everything; it's
filling all my inside."

"Good. Now go up and down a bit more, but not too fast."

Tom changed his grip an held fast onto Peter's wrists as he raised and
lowered himself, sensing the red-hot dick stretching his bum in the most
delightful way. He close his eyes and savoured the new sensation, his own
little dick sticking straight out in front of him, throbbing in time with
his movement.

"It's really, really nice," he whispered.

"Mmmmmm," Peter responded, lost in his own world.

Automatically, Tom clenched his bum cheeks as he continued to enjoy
himself, making sure he slid all the way up and all the way down each time
he moved. Biting him bottom lip in ecstasy, he moaned as he satisfied both
himself and his master.

Peter, realising that Tom was a natural at this, let go of one of Tom's
hand and began to fondle the irresistible four-inch projectile
tantalisingly in front of him. Tom opened his eyes, grinned widely at Peter
and returned to his own world of delight. Seconds later Tom's body froze as
he suddenly orgasmed, forcing his bum cheeks even tighter together and
causing Peter to groan loudly. Just as suddenly as it had arrived, Tom's
orgasm passed, leaving him even more determined to give as much delight as
he could. Twice more his little body was wracked with the most intense
orgasms of his life before Peter, grabbing Tom round the waist, forced him
down for the last time as he jetted his red-hot seed inside his young
servant.  He'd had young boy servants before of course, too many to
remember, but none had been as good as this one, he thought to himself. Not
only was he pure, innocent and virginal when he arrived, but within just a
few short weeks he'd superceded all his predecessors in his skills. He also
enjoyed it enormously which added to Peter's pleasures immeasurably.

Lord Stokes was seen less and less on the London social scene as time went
by, his friends most curious as to why he seemed to spend so much time
indoors. It was only a very few very close friends who knew the reason.

Tom was seemingly insatiable in his nightly passions, so much so that he
even wore Peter out eventually, he just couldn't cope with his all-night
demands for satisfaction day after day. It was with some relief therefore
that he was delighted Tom accepted his invitation to be 'loaned out' to a
friend for a night or two. The added bonus was that Peter got the chance to
have a different boy in his bed, none of whom were as satisfying as Tom,
but were fun nevertheless, and most certainly less exhausting.

A year after Tom's arrival, they'd even got as far as having a monthly
soiree, with two or three of Lord Stoke's acquaintances spending the night
in the house, together with their own boy servants of course. The boys, all
being young, healthy and virile, spent almost as much time playing among
themselves, naked, and displaying their multifarious talents for their
masters as they did pleasuring them in bed. Tom worked hard, very hard, to
please his master and his friends and hoped with all his heart that it
would go on for ever.

'SUNDAY'S CHILD .......'

'And the child that is born on the Sabbath day Is bonny and blithe, and
good and gay.

Sunday was Steven's 'Special Day'; it was the one whole day of the week he
spent with his father.

His parents had separated quite amicably some eight years ago and Stephen
had spent many holidays and almost every Sunday with him. Life with his
mother was OK, but she didn't really understand him any more, especially
now he was 14 years old and needed the company of his father more than that
of his mother. This was especially true in one particular respect; his
parents had separated because of his father's preference for the company of
other men over that of his wife, and it wasn't only their friendship he
needed.

Many men have affairs within their marriage, but Steven's dad had
'liaisons' with a variety of men, none of which lasted long but they were a
source of stress within his marriage. His wife never knew about them but
she suspected, and ignored them for the sake of Stephen until he was old
enough to understand his parents were having difficulties, even if he
didn't know the cause.

He began to understand his father's 'other side' from about the age of 13
when he became aware of his own sexual development. He too was predisposed
to the company of other males rather than that of girls, and being younger
was unafraid of showing it, or to put it properly, didn't know he was
showing it. Stephen's father too saw a lot of himself in Stephen, and
empathised with him.

The boy was never as happy when he was alone with his father in his house
and could sit on his knee and hold him, even at the age of 14. He felt warm
and safe and loved when his father had his arms around him and they just
hugged each other and sat for hours in comfortable silence.

Stephen also knew his mother would never understand this need in him and so
took pains never to let her know how he felt or what they did.

Both men knew also that they both got erections when they were cuddled up
together, grinning at one another as they grew and made their presence
felt. Stephen's father had never taken advantage of his son other than
resting an open hand on his boner when he was hard and gently fondling it
outside his trousers. This made Stephen even happier and he longed to do
the same to his father but never quite had the courage until one special
Sunday just after his 13th birthday.

They'd always kissed each other when Stephen arrived at the house, lips to
lips, embracing. On this special Sunday his father had bought him his
birthday present, a new bicycle. In his excitement he'd hugged his father
tightly and kissed him again, and in his ecstasy had found his tongue in
his father's mouth. They were both surprised at this, but after a moments
look into each other's eyes had done it again, this time more tenderly and
passionately, amazed at the feelings they both had. When they nestled down
on the sofa together, Stephen on his father's knee as usual, he already had
a major boner, matching that of his son. They looked at each other as they
had just before when they kissed, knowing what each was thinking.

Stephen, for the first time placed his open palm on his father's erection
and pressed gently, sighing as his father moaned quietly. They kissed
softly, fondling each other as they did so.  Stephen knew his father
wouldn't go any further than this unless he was somehow invited and so he
slid his trouser zip down and slid his father's hand inside it. He felt his
fingers searching for his prick and sighed deeply as he found it, giving
his dad a quick smile and a kiss.

Experimentally he started to slide his father's zip down, waiting anxiously
to see if he tried to stop him. He didn't. Sitting as he was on his
father's knee, he couldn't manage to get it down far enough to get his hand
completely inside and looked at him, his eyes saying everything he couldn't
put into words.

Still in silence, Stephen's father pushed his son off his knee and stood
up.. He put a hand on his shoulder and guided him to his bedroom; Stephen
allowed himself to be led, putting a loving arm round his father's waist as
they closed the door behind them. Slowly they undressed each other until
they were completely naked, each taking careful stock of the other as they
revealed more and more of the body they so badly wanted to caress, to
fondle and to make love to.

They moved to the bed and lay alongside each other, smiling gently and
running fingers through hair, along cheeks and round lips. They kissed
deeply, tongues dancing round and hugging passionately. Stephen broke the
embrace and took hold of his father's eight-inch erection, examining it
closely. Circumcised, just as he was, it nestled in a bush of brown curly
hair, and looked magnificent, drops of glistening pre-cum highlighting its
beauty.

Stephen moaned as he gently stroked it. He was only dimly aware of his
father gripping his own red-hot throbbing boner, similarly leaking fluid
from its four and a half inches. He had no real hair to show off yet, just
a small fringe of straight blond new growth at the base of his dick which
only seemed to heighten his youthfulness and innocence.

Slowly and with infinite care they started to masturbate each other, no
longer just father and son, they were lovers; new, discovering lovers,
deliriously happy together.

They climaxed together, still silent but ejaculating with a vigour and
intensity neither had experienced for a very long time. Neither cared about
the mess they'd made, neither cared about anything at all in fact, they
only thing that mattered was that they'd demonstrated their deep and
abiding love for each other in the only way they knew how.

They kissed once more, knowing that their relationship had changed for
ever, changed to one which they both knew they were destined for, one which
no one in the world would understand except for themselves. It was as if a
door had been unlocked, each understanding that their genes had won out,
father and son sharing a bond which was as unique as it was unbreakable.

It wasn't long before Stephen was using his new bicycle to visit his father
on a daily basis on the way home from school. His mother was delighted to
see her ex-husband and son getting on so well and was more than happy to
let him visit whenever he wanted. In fact, she secretly wished he would go
and live there permanently as they seemed to have lost all their ability to
communicate - as because of his age he obviously needed his father's
attention more than hers.

Stephen's father had dropped his occasional cruising round town now that he
had his son to take care of his needs, and concentrated on making him as
happy as he could. His daily visits were the highlight of his life, their
characters and natures being a perfect match for each other. Life took an
even better turn when they became lovers in the true sense of the word and
took care of each other in every possible way.

Stephen moved in on his 15th birthday, much to the delight of all
concerned, including his mother. They continued to live their daily lives
very much as before, but Sundays remained their special day when they
showed and demonstrated their love for each other in the best possible way.

The End.