Date: Wed, 3 Jun 2009 12:38:31 -0700 (PDT)
From: John Venn <johnvenn1945@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Quondam Days

Disclaimer:
This story contains scenes of a sexual nature between a man 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 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!

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

Comments are always welcome at johnvenn1945@yahoo.co.uk
***************************************************
Quondam Days
by
Alexander

Chapter 1.

Must be twenty years, I thought to myself as I sat on the bank watching the
river flow past. Twenty years since I sat here doing exactly the same
thing, but with one exception. Today I am more interested in the river
traffic and the people strolling along the paved embankment. Twenty years
ago I was far more interested in the comings and goings in the park toilets
just a few yards away.

Aged twenty-three, as I was then, my feelings towards men were
ambivalent. I'd had a succession of girlfriends, a couple of whom I'd
actually shared my home with, but none of them were ever to be much more
than ships in the night. I'd also had a few easy-going relationships with
men, or rather boys, of about my own age. I considered myself to be
bisexual when I thought about it, which I rarely did.

Whenever I felt the urge I would sit just where I am now, on a slight rise
of the grass in the shade of an oak tree and ostensibly watching the world
go by idly, but keeping an interested eye on the toilets.

Ninety-five percent of the males using the toilets didn't interest me: too
old, too young, not good-looking enough, not interested, etc. etc. Of the
remainder, I could usually find someone who would gratify my needs either
with a quick jerk-off in the toilets, or if I was lucky a more leisurely
time at home. It was on such a mission that I met the one person with whom
I developed any sort of long-term relationship. And he was only 13 years
old.  We'd often be in the park together, me on my vigil and he playing
alone with his frisbee or football. After a while we began to acknowledge
the presence of each other with a friendly smile and nod of the head in
passing, until one very hot July day that is. I'd picked up a six-pack of
Coke on the way to the park and was slowly working my way through the
second of them when the lad passed by, waving as usual. I gave him a broad
smile and took a sip from the can. Pausing for a moment, he changed
whatever plans he had and meandered across the grass towards me.

"Hi!" he said. "Can I sit here for a bit? It's too hot to mess about
today." He then gave himself away by licking his lips and staring hopefully
at the unopened cans by my side.

"Hi! Yeah, I'd like the company," I said, and taking pity on him offered
him a drink.

His face lit up as he took up the offer and knelt down facing me.

"My name's Peter," he smiled. "I've seen you here before. You're here quite
often, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I only live over there." I waved at the block of flats behind me. "I
like it here, just watching the world go by. I'm David by the way."

He nodded in reply and took a healthy mouthful of Coke.

"I like it here too," he said. "Gives me something to do until my mum comes
home."

And that was mostly it. We chatted for an hour or so about
inconsequentials, the only thing of importance I learned being that he was
something of a loner, there not being too many boys of his age living in
the locale, and that he lived alone with his mother. Over the ensuing weeks
we gradually got to know each other better, both of us enjoying the
easy-going conversations and each other's company.

Autumn rolled round and the weather cooled considerably: our meetings
became less frequent, but somehow much more meaningful in an odd sort of
way, as if we'd missed each other's company and were making up for lost
time. We were sat chatting one fateful day when, much to our surprise there
was a clap of thunder overhead and the heavens opened, the big, heavy
raindrops ensuring that within seconds we were both soaked through to the
skin. I was just about to rush off home when I remembered there was
probably no one at home for my new friend. Without giving it a second
thought, I invited him back to my flat to dry off.  Hurrying inside, I
quickly found a couple of towels and threw one at him, laughing as we tried
to dry ourselves as much as possible. Once this was done, cups of coffee
were quickly produced and we sat in my living room, talking much as we
would have done outside in the park. Almost before we knew it, the time had
flown by and it was time for him to make his way home. Getting to his feet,
he thanked me for the towel and coffee, and then added, "I like it
here. Can I come again? It's getting too cold to go to the park these
days."

"Of course," I replied. "Whenever you like."

It was only after he'd gone that I settled down with another coffee and
thought about what I'd said. There had never been a hint of anything sexual
between us, not even conversationally, much to my surprise I realised. And
yet here I was offering almost open access of my flat to a 13-year old boy,
ten years younger than me, with the obvious inferences if anyone ever found
out. On reflection, I didn't regret making the offer, I just made a firm
resolve that nothing would ever occur between us that could or would create
problems. In any case, either one of us could end the friendship at any
time if we felt uncomfortable with it and with no harm done.

That year, Autumn, `the season of mellow mists and fruitfulness' was cold,
wet and windy. We stopped going to the park entirely and daily visits to my
flat from Peter became the norm, the few times when he couldn't drop by
making the day as bleak as the weather as far as I was concerned.

No doubt one of the reasons for his continued visits was my computer
set-up. My job was installing specialist computer software for accountants,
solicitors and so on. Not high-tech by any means, just `plug in and go'
sort of thing: anything of a glitch and I was supposed to call out the
technicians although I had taught myself to solve most problems without
recourse to them. Hence my sophisticated set-up and high-speed internet
connection. No porn sites though, nor anything at all questionable. I lived
in constant dread of the machine breaking down and some anonymous engineer
discovering something that shouldn't be there. Games were OK though, as
were Flight Simulators, my one passion.

"What no porn?" Peter commented one day, just after he'd started to use my
computer. "I'm surprised."

"Not interested in it, and we're not all looking for cheap thrills!" I
laughed.

"I thought there would've been, remembering where we met and what you were
doing," he grinned. The instant he said this, he covered his mouth and
blushed deeply. "Sorry," he whispered, his eyes displaying the
embarrassment he felt. "I shouldn't have said that."

Shocked to the core, I simply said, "That's alright," and ruffled his hair
to let him know it really was OK. "Was it that obvious?"

Peter took this as a signal that he could continue the conversation and
went on, "I just guessed that you were sort of gay. Just a little bit
anyway, else why would you be watching the toilets so much?"

I didn't want to lie to him, and neither did I want to tell him the truth,
and so said nothing except, "Want a Coke?"

With an apologetic smile, he nodded and turned back to the computer.

If I ever thought that this little conversation would change things between
us and cause him to stop visiting me, I was wrong. In fact it created a
bond between us, a shared secret. He also became far more relaxed in his
conversations with me, sex now rearing its head once in a while, if only
for him to tell me about the girls and boys at school or somesuch. The most
pleasing thing as far as I was concerned was also that he started to be
more tactile, taking the opportunity to hug me or rest an arm on my
shoulders whenever he felt like it.

He also took to stretching out on the sofa when we were watching TV, either
with an arm round my neck or his head in my lap. Imperceptibly we began to
touch and hold each other more and more, a welcome hug when he came through
the door, a hand resting on my leg, my arms draped round his shoulders when
we were on the computer and so on. Then a quick, casual peck on the cheeks
once in a while, which he expected to be returned.

Naturally I almost always gained an erection when he touched me, but I took
pains never to let him see it, and neither did I look too closely to see if
it was reciprocated, not for a moment expecting to see one, after all there
had never been anything like sexual contact between us: not even any
double-edged verbal innuendoes. Until one memorable day.

There was nothing worthwhile on TV, the film we'd agreed to watch turning
out to be boring. Laying as usual with his head in my lap, Peter turned
over, buried his face in my navel and wriggled his arms under my shirt to
embrace me.

"That's nice!" he mumbled as he settled down. "Nice and warm!"

I didn't take too much notice of this to start with, until the constant and
deliberate movement of his head gave me the inevitable hard on. As
innocuously as I could, I worked a hand down to straighten it, angling it
away from his head as much as possible. This caused Peter to look up at me
and giggle innocently, his grin telling me he knew exactly what I'd done
and why.  The look in his eyes wasn't quite so innocent though. Slowly he
raised himself up, and not for a moment taking his eyes away from my face,
leaned in and pecked me quite firmly on the lips. Leaning back, he looked
for my reaction. I should have been shocked at his behaviour: shocked and
surprised, but I wasn't. I was pleased. Somehow I knew that this would
happen eventually - knew, or at least hoped, it would.

I put a hand behind his head and whispered, "Thank you!"

His only reply was to nod slightly and lean down to kiss me again, more
positively this time, his tongue reaching into my mouth. He broke the kiss,
wriggled about a bit to get more comfortable and rested his head on my
chest.

I suppose now was the time I should have said something to him, but the
moment passed and I remained silent, my free hand continuing to stroke his
hair. I closed my eyes, half of me hoping that this was as far as it would
go, the other half hoping that this was only the start.

He unbuttoned my shirt and stared inquisitively at my hairless chest before
kissing each of my nipples in turn, then moved upwards to my lips again. I
hugged him tightly, savouring his mouth, all other thoughts evaporating as
I returned the kiss. Dimly I was aware of a hand on my erection, fingers
delicately feeling it. I moaned deeply and hugged Peter even more tightly.

To my disgrace, I never once thought of stopping things from going any
further: if anything I encouraged him by remaining silent except for the
moans and groans, and these only increased as I felt a small hand slide
inside my track suit bottoms and search for my now leaking prick.

"This's no good," I heard Peter whisper. "Can we go somewhere else?"

I gazed at him through unsmiling eyes and saw a look I recognised
instantly: an almost feral one, full of lust and longing.

"Sure?" I asked, softly.

He nodded. "Sure," he said very quietly.

With a racing heart, I led him through to the bedroom, the unmade bed and
general untidiness not registering with either of us. We were beyond words
now, the spell we'd woven being more than sufficient for our needs. For
some illogical reason I walked across and drew the curtains although there
was no possibility of anyone seeing in as I had no neighbours on that
side. Stepping back to Peter, I slowly and delicately undressed him,
letting his clothes remain where they fell. For the very first time I gazed
at his naked body, his youthfulness emphasised by the scratches and marks
on his legs and arms gained from playground rough and tumbles. The boyness
of him stood out proud and erect, rising out of a tantalising bush of light
brown, almost blond hair. It was beating in time to his heart and
glistening moistly in the half light, its four or five inches just begging
for attention. My stare never faltered as I waited for Peter to remove my
own few
 clothes, not feeling in the slightest bit embarrassed as he examined my
body.

He took the final step towards me, wrapped his arms round my neck and
kissed me deeply, our dicks pressed together between us. Gently, I stepped
back to the bed, not for a second breaking our embrace. I pulled him down
and entwined our legs, hugging him as tightly as I could.

Hands slid feverishly between us, desperately seeking out their targets,
which once found and grasped were held firmly yet tenderly.

"Oh wow!" I heard Peter mutter, "Oh Jesus!"

Whatever thoughts we may have had on ensuring the love-making lasted as
long as possible were shattered as after just three or four strokes we both
shot our loads, achingly hard, Peter matching me almost shot for painful
shot.

Some minutes later, when we'd recovered, we rolled over to look at each
other, staring as if at a loss as to explain how we'd ended up naked in bed
together, yet at the same time pleased that we had.

Grinning insanely at each other and over the surprise of cumming so
intensely and unexpectedly, we caressed and fondled each other contentedly,
kissing energetically, just as if it was the most normal and natural thing
in the world. Then we managed to bring one another to a climax again, but
this time far more slowly and with a great deal more care and attention,
taking the time to derive as much pleasure from it as possible.

oOoOoOo

Despite my misgivings, Peter never stopped calling round, much to my
relief. In fact we had an even better friendship than before if truth be
told. The strange thing was that we never, ever spoke about the sexual side
of our relationship: it was something that was always there, never put into
words, but accepted as a part of our relationship. We soon dropped into a
loose routine which satisfied us both, always kissing and hugging when we
met and perhaps even indulge in a friendly grope, but this wasn't always
the precursor to a sex session. Somehow we both knew when one of us was in
the mood: a slight look here, a longer-than-usual hug there, even a smile
at the right time seemed to work for us. And we never went beyond hugging,
kissing and jerking each other off: neither of us wanted any more, nor did
we ask for it. The dreaded word `love' was never mentioned, nor were
promises of an everlasting life together made. We both knew that the
physical
 side of what we had wouldn't last for ever, but that our affection and
closeness would. Secrets, hopes and ambitions were exchanged: desires and
wants discussed frequently, either in bed or comfortably lounging on the
sofa.

For two very satisfying years Peter and I carried on our friendship, casual
yet intense, easy-going but exciting. Undemanding yet important. Eventually
though things were taken out of our hands when I was posted overseas by the
company. By this time Peter was rising 15 and had a wider circle of friends
than before who were beginning to take up a lot of his spare time. He even
had a girlfriend or two, but our sex sessions still continued on a regular
basis, Peter revealing to me one day that he found them both satisfying and
relaxing!

It was painful parting of course, and I'm sure a tear or two was shed
quietly when we were alone, but it had to happen. Letters were exchanged
for a month or two, but neither of us were great letter-writers and we let
things slide, sadly.

Chapter 2.

The sound of a child crying brought me out of my reverie, and it was with a
shock that I realised where I was - twenty years having suddenly been added
to my life. It took me a minute or two to gather my wits together before I
decided it was time to make a move.

The reason for the return to my home town was the not unexpected demise of
my sole remaining parent. Mother had died a month or so earlier, leaving me
her house and I was in the process of moving in. I had been successful
enough in my job to remain with the same company, although never reaching a
great height in it. Still, I was content enough with the job I had: at
least it was now UK based and I was able more or less to manage my own
schedule of work. More importantly, now that I was settling down in the
country, further promotion was very much in the offing, the likelihood of
my changing jobs being much reduced.

I found the practicalities of settling into my childhood home rather
depressing as my mother and I had never been particularly close and her
belongings still scattered about the house unsettled me as they reminded me
how little I knew of her day-to-day life. By mid-evening I'd had enough and
decided to go out for a drink, electing to return to an old haunt of mine
not too far away, about half way between my old flat and new home.

Despite having travelled all over the world, I'd discovered that there is
nothing to equal the ambience of a good, old-fashioned British pub and my
local was no exception. It had been altered a few times in the intervening
years and a restaurant had been added, but it was still recognisable and
I'm sure the old men in the corner were exactly the same ones that were
there when I left. In perfect contentment, I took my welcome pint and
settled into a comfortable chair. I was nursing my second pint and mulling
over all the things I had to do when I became aware of someone staring at
me from the bar. Putting it down to the natural inquisitiveness a stranger
creates in a bar, I looked away. But then looked back. The face was vaguely
familiar although I couldn't put a name to it. I smiled at the man and
nodded slightly. He looked intently at me for a moment and then walked
over.

"David?" he asked. "David Steele?"

"Yes?" I confirmed as I looked more closely at him. Those eyes. I know
those eyes.

"Peter!" I almost shouted. "My God! Peter! How the hell are you!"

"Thought it was you!" he grinned. "It's been a few years, but you haven't
changed a bit."

I hugged him warmly, and for the second time that day I was 25 again and
holding a 15 year old boy in my arms. I blushed slightly at the thought and
sat down to regain my composure.

"You've hardly changed at all," I stammered out. "Boy, am I pleased to see
you!"

"I hope I've changed a little," Peter laughed, "After all I was only a kid
when we last met."

We spent the next hour catching up with each other's news, the years
dropping away as we chatted.

"Got a wife and family now," Peter told me. "They're away this week though,
that's why I'm out enjoying a quiet pint! "

Very quickly I learned that he had a wife, Mary, a 13-year-old boy, an
11-year old girl and worked as a driving instructor. "Girl's called Angela
Mary, and the boy's David Peter," he told me.

I glanced at him as he said this. "David Peter?" I queried, a funny feeling
hitting my stomach.

"Yep," he said seriously. "Peter after me and David ......"

There was a slightly awkward pause before he asked, "You married? Kids?"

"Married once. No kids. Divorced." I said briefly.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Peter said. "You would have been a good dad. Were
a good dad."

The conversation was taking a maudlin turn and although it was one which I
was very interested in, the pub was no place to continue it.

"Want to come out for a meal?" I asked hopefully.

"Take-away? My place?" Peter grinned. That was something else that hadn't
changed: a smile I couldn't resist.

"Done!" I laughed. "You get the food, I'll get the drink."

Once settled in his house with the food and drink scattered about, we
settled down to reminisce.

"So," he said, "Tell me all about yourself. What you been doing all my
life?"

"Not a great deal," I admitted. "Same company, same job more or less. More
responsibility and longer hours."

"You been married though." he asked. "Didn't work out or what?"

"Didn't work out. I married a girl from London, but she couldn't cope with
all my travelling and found alternative amusement for herself. We split
amicably enough though, and luckily there we no kids to complicate things."

Peter looked at me sideways and raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"There was that too," I added. "Although I don't think she knew about that
side of me. In any case, it was never that important to me, not after
......"

This time it was Peter's turn to look embarrassed. "You know, you were very
important to me too," he said, twisting the beer glass in his hand. "I
never got the chance to explain things to you properly. I was too young I
suppose, and the timing never seemed right somehow. But what you and I had,
what we did, what we talked about, I know now was the making of me, for
better or for worse!" he added, laughing slightly. "You did more for me
than I think you realised."

By now we'd had enough to drink to make conversation flow easily, but were
a long way from being drunk.

"I liked you," I said. "Still like you. You seemed to fill a hole in my
life I didn't know I had and for that I will ever be grateful. You were fun
to be with and took everything in your stride. It took me a long time to
get over you; still haven't in some ways. I'm glad we've met up again."

We looked at each other over the glasses and our eyes met. Two decades ago
we could have hugged and kissed each other joyfully and without
embarrassment. Now all we could do was say what we meant with a look, a
look which nevertheless confirmed that the same feelings were still there.

"Things were never quite the same for me after we separated," I mused. "I
had a few one night stands sort of thing, but they were never very
satisfying, and I missed your company. That's why I got married I suppose,
for the companionship as much as anything else. Bound to fail under those
conditions I guess. You've been luckier than me in that respect."

"I guess so," Peter went on. "But you taught me one thing I've never
forgotten. Sex is only part of a relationship. An important part, OK, but
caring and love is more important and should come first. It did with us."

This was the first time that we had spoken of love, and it struck home.

"We did love each other, I suppose. As much as we dared." I said
quietly. "Now I look back on it."

"Bathroom!" Peter laughed as he stood up. "I need to go."

On his return, he rested a hand on the back of my neck and stroked it a
couple of times. I grasped his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Nice to be
home!" I whispered.

"And you can still give me a bloody erection!" he laughed, indicating the
prominent bulge in his trousers.

"Not grown out of that sort of thing, then?" I asked lightly.

"Not really. I indulge myself once in a while, when I feel the
need. Something else you taught me!" he laughed.

We carried on with our reminiscences for a while longer, but the food and
beer began to take their toll and the conversation flagged.

"I aught to make a move," I said as the clock struck midnight. "It's
getting late."

"Must you? You can stay the night here if you want. There's plenty of
space."

The idea appealed to me enormously and I gladly accepted. Whilst Peter
checked the spare room was usable, I visited the bathroom, took my shirt
off and had a good wash. When I came out of the room, Peter was standing
waiting for me, beer glass in hand.

"You know," he said quietly. "In all the time we knew each other, we never
once spent the night together."

My head snapped up sharply as I heard this and I looked at him carefully.

He put his glass down on the table, took a step forwards and wrapped me in
his arms.

"Please?" he asked. "Just the once, for old times sake?"

"Oh, yes, yes," I sighed as our lips met.

Revisiting the past is often a bad mistake, but that night Peter and I
relived a life long since gone. Gone but not forgotten. The magic spots
were remembered instantly, the little pleasures and secrets unfolded again
as we fondled and caressed. And yes, made love for the first time. Real,
proper love that had stood the test of time. Even the following morning,
when we awoke still in each other's arms, we were still lost in time.

"Regrets?" Peter whispered as I held him.

"None. None whatsoever," I said, giving him a kiss. "The best welcome home
ever!"

Chapter 3.

Naturally, as time went on I got to know Peter and his family better and
better. He had a lovely wife and two adorable kids, both of whom were just
as tactile as Peter had been, and still was given half a chance. We spent a
great deal of time in each other's company, his wife and children
compensating a little for the family I never had. They were all a great
deal of help too in re-organising my house, dumping most of the furniture
and fittings and replacing them with things more suitable for me. It would
be wrong to deny that Peter and I didn't mess about together once in a blue
moon, but as no one asked, there was no problem and no harm was done. The
only thing we had to make sure of was that neither David or Angela were
expected as they had taken to dropping in whenever they felt like it,
mainly I guessed for a change of scenery as much as anything else. Things
were going swimmingly, until one fateful day.

Mary had taken to dropping round for coffee most week-ends, especially when
the kids were out with their friends and Peter was working. On this
particular Saturday, Mary seemed unusually edgy and fidgety, and as we
re-filled our cups I asked what the problem was.

"It's our David." she said, putting her cup down carefully. "I think we
have a problem with him."

"What? It's not his health or anything?" I gasped. "Nothing serious?"

"No. Well, I don't think so. Not health-wise anyway."

"What is it then? Can I help?"

"I don't know. Peter and I have talked about it, and we think you are the
best one to speak with."

"What about?" I asked, feeling relieved that it didn't seem to be
life-threatening at least, but curious as to what she meant.  "We think
he's, maybe, more interested in boys than girls, if you see what I mean."
Mary said, staring into her cup.

A million thoughts raced through my head as I absorbed this, few of which
could I voice to the wife of my best friend, given the relationship he and
I had.

"Would you talk to him? Help him if you can?"

"Why me?" I exclaimed. "There must be others, much better qualified than
me. What have I to offer?"

Mary looked at me, and said, "I know about you and Peter. How much you
helped him years ago, what you did together, and still do as far as I
know. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about it. I know him well
enough to realise that he needed help at the time, and still feels the need
once in a while. It's something he told me about before we were married and
I accepted it as a part of the man I love. And who loves me and the
kids. He's a good husband, father and provider and a great deal of that is
down to you. You know of course, he loves you? Not in the same way as he
loves me and the kids of course, but nevertheless it's love."

"Christ!" I said, shocked to the core, my mind a turmoil.

Mary allowed me to gather my thoughts as she poured us another drink.

"If you can help young David half as much as I think you helped Peter, then
I - no, we - will be eternally grateful."

"Why doesn't Peter talk to him? Or you?"

"Peter's his father and it probably wouldn't work. They would both be far
too embarrassed anyway. And as his mother, and a woman, I'm not supposed to
know about such things, am I? David would never forgive me if I even so
much as hinted at such a thing!" she half-smiled.

"Why hasn't Peter mentioned it to me? He knows I would help if I possibly
could."

"Because you wouldn't say no to him and he didn't want to put that sort of
pressure on you. I can ask, and you can say no to me a bit easier."  There
was no doubting that I would help in any way I could of course, but did
that go as far as, well, repeating what Peter and I had done? And in any
case, was David open to that sort of thing anyway?

I voiced my concerns to Mary as delicately as I could.

"From what I understand, the things you and Peter did were by mutual
consent, and probably at Peter's instigation," Mary smiled. "No forcing, no
threatening and no bullying. David is his father's son, and I know that he
won't be bullied into anything he doesn't want. And the big thing is that
he likes you already."

"What?" I said, not fully understanding what she was saying.

"He adores you. Didn't you know? When you are around, he's always
tongue-tied and would hardly say boo to a goose, but when you aren't there,
he never stops talking about you. He's very interested in the work you do
and all the countries you've been to. That would be a good start."

"And you don't mind if ... " I let the statement hang.

"We don't mind which side of the fence he ends up on, or even in the middle
like Peter," Mary went on. "The important thing is that he is comfortable
with who he is, and we think you are the best person to help him."

"I don't know, I really don't," I mumbled. "I'd like to help, of course,
but ... "

"Think about it," Mary said. "Please. Peter and I were thinking of going
away next week-end and were planning on taking the kids, but if you were to
ask David to sleep over on Saturday night and show him some of your foreign
pictures, I'm sure he'll jump at the chance. Try it and see."

Much against my better judgment, I agreed to think it over and let them
know as soon as I could. I knew the answer of course, even before Mary left
my house, but I wanted time to make sure I was doing it for the right
reasons.

oOoOoOo

I met with the family on Sunday as usual, and again as usual, went to the
pub for a pre-lunch drink. Whilst the kids were out playing in the garden,
I took advantage and told Peter and Mary that I would talk with young David
if that was what they really wanted. And maybe, just maybe, I could help
him out.

"But the lead must come from him and if he's not interested, then ..."

Peter and Mary visibly relaxed. "I know exactly what you mean," Peter
said. "Just like me and you did, and that's all we can ask."

I studied David over lunch, looking at him with a new interest. Mary was
right in what she'd said; every time I caught his eye he blushed and buried
his head in the meal. Over the desert the questions of the family's
upcoming week-end was brought up and it was evident that whilst Angela was
quite happy to go and visit her Grandma, David was less than
impressed. Seizing the opportunity, I asked David if he would like to stay
at my place.

His face lit up like a lighthouse for a split second before he got himself
under control, and looking at his parents asked if that would be OK.

"Of course," they both agreed, not daring to look in my direction.

oOoOoOo

The Saturday night sleep-overs became a regular event, even to the extent
that he would appear sometime around noon, change into his sports kit and
disappear off to a football game or something. He would re-appear around
tea time, have a shower and change his clothes before settling down for the
evening to watch TV or play games on the computer.

It amazed me how like his father was at that age in most respects. He was
very tactile, just like his dad was, more so in fact as I soon learned. The
biggest difference was that he was certainly more sexually aware that his
father was, almost certainly due to the better education they were
receiving in school, and of course the vastly increased amount of explicit
material shown on TV.

It wasn't uncommon for him to curl up on the sofa with me, head in my lap
and my arm draped across his chest as we watched TV. This almost always
gave him an erection, especially if we were looking at anything even
slightly erotic. Very often I would follow through and get a boner of my
own, but this didn't disturb him in the slightest. If he noticed it, which
he always did, the only thing he would do was move his head out of the way
to give me more room. His own erections he either ignored, or rested his
hand on them comfortably, once in a while even sliding his hand down his
shorts to hold it more firmly. There wasn't the slightest bit of
embarrassment at this, something I guess he'd picked up from his father.

We both got erections too when he sat on my knee as we played games on the
computer. The first few times this happened, I offered to get another
chair, but he simply shook his head and said there was no need as he was
quite comfortable as he was.

It was one Saturday night in particular that things began to change. There
was nothing worth watching on TV and we were gamed-out on the computer. To
relieve the boredom, David asked if we could look at my photos taken
overseas again. Spreading them out on the coffee table, we skimmed through
them, heads side by side, with me explaining where they were taken once in
a while. It wasn't long before I saw he had another erection which he was
fondling absent-mindedly as he sifted through them. The set he was going
through were ones I'd taken in Sri Lanka, a place I had stayed in for the
best part of a year. My stay was made all the more pleasant because I
shared my accommodation with an eighteen year old lad who looked after flat
by day and me by night. A lad who appeared in nearly all the pictures, some
of which were verging on the obscene!

"He's very good looking," David said, placing a finger on him. "Did he live
with you?"

"Yes," I said before realising what I'd said. "He looked after me."

"I bet he did," David giggled.

"Not in the was you're thinking!" I lied, ruffling his hair. "He cooked and
cleaned for me."

"Yeah. Right." David laughed, staring into my groin.

The damage had been done now, but it apparently had has no effect on David
as he carried on looking at the pictures until bedtime, selecting all the
ones with boys in them for special attention.

David was having his bed-time bath and I was in the spare room making his
bed up when I heard him call my name. Wandering across to the bathroom
door, I leaned on it and asked what he wanted. We often chatted through the
open door as he bathed, but this was the first time he'd actually called me
over and I was intrigued.

"Will you wash my hair for me?" he asked. "Mum or dad do it for me
sometimes."  "Sure," I said, "If you want me to."

Stepping over to the bathside, I grasped the shampoo and squirted some on
his head.

"Close your eyes," I told him as I started the massage.

David slid down the bath and did as I'd asked. The first thing I noticed
was the pink head of his erection sticking up out of the water, and knowing
his eyes were closed, kept staring at it, enjoying the sight. Slowly I
watched as he took hold of it and began to masturbate, slowly and gently.

"That's nice," he sighed, a smile crossing his face.

Whether he meant my washing his hair, or the other feelings he was getting
I didn't know - I hoped it was both.

When he pulled his hand away from his dick, and not a moment too soon I
judged, I rinsed his hair and handed him a towel.

I turned to leave the bathroom when he said, "Don't go just yet. Can I ask
you something?"

I turned to face him, and was greeted by a very naked young boy standing
directly in front of me, with his beautiful erection pointing straight at
me.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" he whispered.

I swallowed, and asked, "Why?"

"I'd like to, and didn't think you'd mind. Just this once."

I pulled him to me, sat him on my knee and started to dry his hair.

"What makes you think I want you to?" I said.

"I thought you'd like it. And I wouldn't mind, if you want me to."  "I'm
not sure. I'd like you to, of course. But it isn't right, is it?"

He turned to face me, wrapped his arms round my neck and kissed me lightly
on the cheek.

"It wouldn't be the first time. For you or me," he whispered. "I've done it
before with someone and tonight ...." he paused and hugged me. "Tonight I
really feel like ... not being by myself."

There was no arguing of course. As I finished drying him, he hardly took
his eyes off me, the look being one of simple adoration, mixed with a
healthy portion of lust.

The lust had all but disappeared as a little while later, a nervous and
pyjama-clad David slid into the bed alongside me. I too had donned my
pyjamas, just in case he did mean just sleeping with me.

His nervousness was still apparent as he stretched out on his back, staring
at the ceiling, arms crossed over his chest and a respectful few inches
away.

"Cuddle?" I whispered as I turned to face him.

He rolled over and let me embrace him lightly. He was as tense as could be
to begin with, but it wasn't long before I felt his muscles relax and he
moulded into me, and not much longer before he grinned widely and kissed me
on the cheeks.

"So," I said. "Happy now?"

"Oh, yeah," he sighed as he wriggled into a more comfortable position.

"So tell me who else you've slept with," I said lightly. "Half the girls at
school I'd say at a guess."

"Naah," he laughed. "I've not actually been to bed with anyone at all. But
I've done other things though."

"Oh yeah?" I whispered, running a hand down his back. "Tell me."  "Well,
there's this boy at my school, Michael. He's in the year above me, but we
sorta done stuff together. Do stuff," he giggled. "Like jerking each other
off sometimes, and even a couple of BJ's"

"Good?" I asked. "You like it?"

"Oh, yeah, it's good fun. We even did it with a couple of girls once."

What? IT?" I said, surprised.

"No, silly. We just felt each other up and one of `em gave me a BJ."

"What was that like?"

David wriggled a bit more, his boner now sticking into my thigh.

"OK, I guess. But it wasn't as good as Michael. I guess girls don't know
how to do it properly."

Once again, David's hand had crept into his groin and he was quietly toying
with himself as we chatted.

"Do you want to do anything now?" I asked.

"I don't mind," he laughed. "But first we gotta take these off."

Once our pyjamas were dropped to the floor, David lay across my chest and
kissed me on the lips. Now he was completely at ease his hands wandered
freely over all over me, not leaving one bit unfelt. Naturally, the favour
was returned and as we got more and more excited, the kisses and foundlings
became more fervent.

Suddenly, David stiffened, arched his back and shot his load all over my
stomach uncontrollably.

"Oh shit!" he gasped. "Too fuckin'soon!"  I ignored the language and
cuddled him tightly, knowing exactly how he felt.

"Don't panic," I giggled. "That's supposed to happen, or didn't you know?"

This raised a little smile and the comment, "Yeah, but not just yet, I was
enjoying myself! But now I've gotta make you cum. It's only fair!"

Without another word, he reached down and encircled my dick with his soft
hand. Staring at my cock as if mesmerised, he began to jerk me off, slowly
and carefully, watching every movement of his hand.

"Just the right size," he murmured to me. "You're bigger than Michael. And
longer."

I expected him to back off as my load began its journey, but sensing that
things were about to happen in a big way, he slowed down a little and
stared even more intently. I've never been a big shooter, but what I lack
in pressure I sure as hell make up for in volume, especially when I haven't
cum for a few days, like now.

"Oh, wow!" David said in awe as he milked the last few drops out of
me. "I've never seen that much before, there's gallons of it!"

I was too knocked out to say anything, it was as much as I could do to keep
staring at David's delightful face and cum-soaked hand.

"Yuck!" he grinned as he used my discarded pyjamas to clean us both up
with. "That's gross!"

"But you're hard again," I said, tweaking his five inches.

"Wanna suck it?" he asked, kneeling astride me and pressing it against my
lips.

It was delicious. Still slightly salty, I licked every bit of it clean for
him before using all the experience I had to give him the best blow job
ever. I was helped of course by the fact that he'd cum once, and so had
some time before he was ready again. David obviously enjoyed the
tongue-lashing as his groans and moans demonstrated, coupled with urgent
thrusts into my mouth.

When he did eventually deposit his gift into my mouth, it was totally
enervating for him and he collapsed, breathless on my chest, eyes glazed
and a happy smile on his face. Within seconds he was asleep and stayed in
exactly the same position until we woke the following morning.

As I slowly woke up I became aware that I wasn't alone in my bed and it
took me a moment or two to remember who my partner was.

"Morning!" I yawned as I looked at down at David's head on my chest. "Sleep
well?"

"Yes, thanks," he smiled. "Very well."

I made a move to get out of bed, but was stopped by David who kissed me
lightly on the lips.

"We got to get up yet?" he said, moving my hand onto his morning boner.
"Can we stay a few more minutes?"

David did all but purr as he nestled against me, smiling to himself as he
stared to play with my erection. He was happy, and the happiness soon
spread. Lazily we brought one another to delicious orgasms, a wonderful way
to start the day!

Chapter 4.

Thus our routine was established. Saturday nights were ones of selfish
pleasure for both of us, doing just as we wanted: TV, computer games,
eating out and so on. We also shared my bed, something we both looked
forward to, although we didn't have sex every time. Sometimes the mere
presence of each other was enough and we lay awake until the early hours
chatting away and simply holding each other until we drifted off to sleep.

One thing David did start to do was bring his mates home with him after
he'd been out on Saturday afternoons. Most of them hung around until early
evening before they went home for their meals: most that is except Michael
and Tina. They usually stayed much later and shared our early evening meal
with us more often than not. It didn't take a rocket scientist to work out
why. David fancied Tina and would do anything to keep her in the house as
long as possible. Michael, who was a year or so older than David was into
computers and so most times, it would end up with Michael and me on the PC,
with David and Tina doing their own thing.

It was noticeable that David and I never had any sex fun whenever Tina had
been round, David letting it leak out that she `satisfied' him whilst
Michael and I were otherwise engaged. This worried me a little to begin
with and when I asked him about it, my mind was eased when I was informed
that they hadn't ever `gone all the way', but that they'd done most other
things!

It was while we were talking about this one night after everyone had gone
home when I asked how Michael fitted into the picture.

"Don't you remember?" David said. "I told you. He's the one I used to do
things with, you know, at school."

"Oh, yeah. He's the one, is he? I hadn't connected it up. Nice looking
lad," I said. "I'm almost jealous."

This earned me a playful punch from David, followed by a kiss. Then it
registered.

"Used to?" I queried. "Not any more?"

"No, not really. He keeps asking me, and I do stuff with him sometimes, but
not as much as I used to. I seem to have gone off doing it with him since
I've been going out with Tina."

"That's probably a good thing," I went on. Then added, "You know you
haven't got to sleep with me if you don't want. If you'd rather sleep in
the other bedroom, ....."

Before I could finish, David interrupted. "I like sleeping with you. It's
good `cause we can talk and stuff. And I like doing the other stuff as well
sometimes."

Despite my own personal feelings, I was pleased that David seemed to be
growing up and was obviously changing his sexual preferences slowly.

"I like having you here too," I told him. "And if you don't want to mess
about any more, I'm OK with that too."

"No your not!" David giggled. "You'd miss it like crazy. And so would I!"

"Yes, well. Perhaps you're right," I sighed.  "In any case, you can always
have Michael." he said.

"What?" I said in surprise. "Michael?"

"Yeah. He definitely prefers men to girls and he likes you as well. Why
else do you think he hangs around?"

"Rubbish!" I said. But still turned the idea over in my mind anyway, and
liked it.

David giggled as he grabbed my erection and gave it a healthy
squeeze. "Want me to do something with this, seeing as Michael isn't
around?"

oOoOoOo

I watched Michael over the next few weeks with renewed interest, and did
indeed notice that there was something there. Once or twice I caught him
looking at me in that instantly recognisable way, but each time he blushed
and turned away. He was by no means as `touchy-feely' as David and neither
was he as talkative, so it was difficult to guess if he was really
interested in our doing anything together or not. Once again it was David
who got the ball rolling.

"I wanna go to a party next Saturday," David said. Can I go?"

"Of course," I replied. "Why shouldn't you?"

"It's round at Tina's and it doesn't end until midnight. It's her
birthday."

"Nothing wrong with that. `Course you can go as long as you're back here by
half past twelve."

"There's something else," David went on. "Michael isn't going. He doesn't
want to. Can he still come here?"

I looked at David and got a blank, innocent stare back. Why did I have the
feeling I was being set up?

"I guess so, if he wants."

David giggled loudly and gave me a big hug. "I knew you'd agree!" he
laughed. "There's just one more thing though."

"Oh yes?" I asked carefully.

"He's told him mum and dad that it's an all-night party."

"I've been rail-roaded," I grinned. "Your idea or Michael's?"

"Both," David smiled. "We had to do something, you weren't going to."

Saturday rolled around and it was with a fair degree of nervousness that I
welcomed David and Michael on their return from the football match.

David was in hyperactive mode, excited at the prospect of the forthcoming
party and what pleasures he hoped it would bring. Michael and I looked at
each other and grinned as David bounced around the kitchen gathering snacks
for us all. Once seated in the lounge and watching them eat, I looked at
Michael out of the corner of my eye.

He wasn't an especially attractive boy at first glance. At a guess he was
the same height as me, but thinner and paler; had piano-players hands with
long, thin fingers and a mop of unruly black hair. Dress-wise, he was clad
in a loose T-shirt and faded black jeans which were tight enough to display
what seemed to be a healthy-size package. He was also nervous.

"So," I said. "You're staying the night?"

"Yes, if that's OK?" he replied. "You don't mind do you?"

"Of course he don't!" David butted in. "Someone's gotta stay and look after
him!"

"That's fine," I grinned. "I'm looking forward to it."

I hoped there was enough inference in my reply to satisfy Michael and put
him a bit more at ease.  "You gotta sleep with David though," young David
said. "There's only his room and mine, and I've only got a single bed."

"That OK?" I asked Michael.

He nodded in reply, accompanied by a blush which did him credit. There was
also a wide cheesy grin and wink from David, fortunately unseen by his
friend.

David's exuberance was unsettling both Michael and I, and it was with a
sense of relief that we watched him go sometime later.

"That's better!" I grinned at Michael as I closed the door. "David's OK,
but he can be wearing at times. So what do you want to do?"

"Can I have a look at your computer?" he asked. "It's much better than mine
and I'd like to see what it's got."

It turned out that Michael was surprisingly knowledgeable, his questions
showing a quick intellect and keen insight to the workings of the monsters.
Within minutes he'd shown me a whole host of things it could do which I
didn't know were there. When he was finished, it was working a damn sight
faster and had a lot more disc space - I was impressed. Not only that, but
it had also unlocked Michael's nervousness and he was now chatting away as
if we were old friends.

"That's it!" he said at last. "All we gotta do now is copy all the old
files to a CD just in case you want `em later, and then defrag. That's
gonna take some time," he grinned. "Anything on TV worth watching?"

There wasn't a great deal, but we found something innocuous to stare at
while the computer did its own thing. Sitting down in my usual place on the
sofa, I opened my arms, inviting Michael to sit alongside me. There was the
slightest hint of hesitation as he looked at the empty space, then sat in
it, his mind evidently made up.

I rested an arm on his shoulders and encouraged him to move in a little
closer, which he did. I don't think either of us was aware of what was on
the box, we were far too nervous and apprehensive just at that moment.
Gently I began to stroke his hair and was rewarded by his moving in a bit
closer and a definite easing of his tension. Experimentally I dropped a
hand onto his thigh and let it rest for a minute or two before allowing my
fingers to draw little circles on the inside.  "OK?" I whispered as I moved
my hand up a little.

"Yeah," he whispered, nodding his head at the same time.

He opened his legs slightly as I approached his groin, an erection now
becoming evident. It must be painful too, I thought. There was a definite
curve to it, confined as it was by his now too-tight jeans.

"Want to get more comfortable?" I whispered.

Once again he nodded before unfastening his belt and sliding the zip down.
Reaching inside, he straightened himself and lay on his side, offering me
open access. Very gently I let my hand rest on the swelling and feel its
firmness still hidden under his blue-stripped boxers.

"Can I feel yours?" he said nervously, staring at my hand caressing his
pride and joy.

"Want to go upstairs?" I said quietly. "It'll be more comfortable."

Pulling his jeans closed, he fastened the belt, leaving the flies undone
and then stood up, his gaze fixed on my groin.

oOoOoOo

"Very nice!" I smiled as he stripped off once we were in my bedroom. And so
it was. The age difference between him and David was now clearly visible.
Michael's boyhood must have been at least two inches longer, and thicker in
proportion than David's. He had an almost full-grown bush of dark hair
growing above two superb-looking balls, with everything in perfect
proportion. What appeared to be a thin, gangly body in his clothes turned
out to be lithe rather than thin and more muscular than I thought, and not
a mark anywhere.

He made no comment at all as I stared at him. Instead he took the last step
towards me and simply wrapped his arms round my chest and hung on, allowing
our erections to jostle together.

"Can we get in the bed?" he said almost inaudibly.

I was almost certainly the more nervous as we made ourselves comfortable
under the sheets, completely unsure as to what to do next. There was no
need for me to worry on that score whatsoever though as I soon found
out. Once he was settled, Michael transformed into a different person,
taking charge right from the outset. He lay almost on top of me, chest to
chest and with a knee pressed lightly into my groin, arms resting on the
pillow either side of my head.

"Can I kiss you?" He said, his voice showing more confidence than I'd ever
heard before from him.

I nodded and pulled him down to me.

The kiss started off gently and exploratory, but soon changed up into top
gear and I found myself the subject of what was almost oral rape. That,
together with his frantically roving hands had me gasping for breath before
I knew it. He was all over me, rolling and thrashing about the bed as if
his very life depended on it: not that I objected, it had been a very long
time since I had been treated like this. That he was no innocent was beyond
doubt, that he was also desperate for gratification was also very evident.

"Slow down, slow down," I grinned between kisses. "We've got all night if
you want."

"Sorry!" he smiled. "But it's been so long since, ..... Well, never
mind. I'm just so happy to be here. You wouldn't believe ..."

I'd been involved with David so much over the past weeks that to come
across someone like Michael so unexpectedly was quite a shock to my system.
Although David and I enjoyed our sessions together, they were never as
wildly exciting as some I'd known. David was a much more laid-back sort of
boy, and recently had shown his interest in the sort of sex we enjoyed was
becoming less and less. Michael was refreshing, exciting and thoroughly
enjoyed what he was doing.

"What do you like doing most?" I asked as I stroked his now moist prick.

"Most things I guess. As long as we are enjoying ourselves it doesn't
matter much."

This was interesting, but not a great deal of help as I wasn't at all sure
what he meant by `most things'. I needed to know if there were any
boundaries, or anything he especially liked. Over the years, I'd done
almost everything that could be done at one time or another and there were
certainly things I wouldn't want to repeat. On the other hand, there were
things I very much liked, things which I had never done with either David
or his father and I wanted to do again.

Michael managed to regain control of his hormones and demonstrate just how
experienced he was. With a wicked grin he turned himself round and without
a moment's hesitation engulfed my dick in his mouth. All of it. Gripping
the bedsheets tightly I moaned loudly as he suckled on me, his tongue doing
things I hadn't had done for far too long. It was only when I became aware
of his own dick sliding across my face that I remembered I had a part to
play in this too. There was a low growl from him as I took his tool between
my lips and set to work on it, welcoming his presence like a long-lost
friend.

We managed to delay our joint orgasms as long as possible, but the
thrilling novelty of the situation and the expertise we had between us made
sure that it wasn't all that long. Once we'd both given our all, like very
new lover I suppose, we embraced and kissed heavily and with more passion
than we had previously. In a way we were both glad that our `first time'
was over, signifying as it did that we were OK with what we'd done, and
were more than happy to do it again, and again, ...

We were heading towards our third orgasm of the night when I heard the
front door slam shut. With a shock, I glanced at the time and saw that it
was just after 12.30. David! I'd almost forgotten all about him. Luckily,
Michael managed to retrieve his head from my groin and more or less cover
himself with the sheet when a rap on the bedroom door announced David. At
least he waited before to hear my `come in' before he bounced in.

"Hiya guys!" he said brightly, destroying in an instant the peace and calm
Michael and I had created.

He wasn't at all fazed by seeing us nakedly side by side in bed and without
so much as a by-you-leave, sat beside me, pecked me on the cheek and gave
Michael a wide grin.

"I'm back!" he informed us happily. "Great party, do you know ......"

For a few minutes we let him ramble on. I could sense Michael was far more
interested in picking up from where we'd left off than hearing about
David's night out, one hint being that he had hold of my cock and was
slowly masturbating me.

"David," Michael said.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up! We know you had a good time. Did you get your rocks off?"

"Sort of," David went on. "Got a BJ from Tina and a good feel. I think next
time, she'll ..."

"David," Michael interrupted again. "Piss off!"

"Oh. Right." he grinned. "Sorry! I'll see you in the morning."

"Dickhead!" Michael smiled as David made his exit.

It was no good though - the spell had been broken. After few minutes
conversation, we both drifted off into a much-needed sleep, embracing like
the new lovers we were.

Chapter 5.

To give him his due, David never asked what Michael and I got up to in the
privacy of my bedroom, just the same as we never enquired precisely how far
he'd got with Tina. All three of us remained firm friends with very little
change to our routines. Michael and David both stayed over on Saturday
nights, David usually disappearing elsewhere most times and going straight
to his room when he returned. He must have made progress with Tina though
as I'd bought a few condoms `for emergency use' and had made sure that both
boys knew where they were and to help themselves when they wanted. Michael
and I (wrongly!) never used them, but they still disappeared gradually.

Michael, unbeknown to David, also spent most Friday nights with me. There
wasn't any real reason for our secrecy, it was just that we wanted a `David
free' night to ourselves when we could explore and enjoy each other without
fear of interruption and do the things which I'd not done with David.

On the Peter and Mary front, I took advantage of a Sunday get-together to
let them know that David had a more or less steady girlfriend and that it
might be a good idea to leave a few protectives around for him. I think
that they were both relieved to hear this and were quite happy to go along
with the idea. They knew about Michael of course and were quite pleased for
me too. I chose not to tell them that David still managed to call in on me
once in a while for `a bit of fun', after all he was his father's son and I
am almost certain that Peter knew what the score was and expected nothing
less.