Date: Sun, 04 Jun 2000 12:35:37 BST From: Jack Rowan <jack_rowan@hotmail.com> Subject: The Story of Tim - part 1 THE STORY OF TIM - part 1 This story includes descriptions of sexual relations between an adult man and a teenage boy, including bondage and SM. If the law in your jurisdiction says that you're too young to be reading this, then I suggest very strongly that you should obey the law. People who are likely to be offended by the subject matter are respectfully advised not to read it. Please note: This is fiction. In real life, sexual relationships between adults and teenagers almost always lead to exploitation and physical or emotional damage, and cannot be condoned. In addition, I should point out that none of this happened, and none of the people in the story exist. At least, not unchanged. There's no sex - well, not much - in the first two parts. Later, it gets quite heavy, although always consensual. If you dislike the idea of SM involving teenagers, then this is not the story for you. The story is divided into lots of numbered sections, which have been gathered together in twelve parts. That's why part 2 starts with a section numbered 8, and so on. If you're interested, there are more notes about the story at the end of part 12. The Story of Tim is copyright. Copy it for your own use if you wish, archive it if you wish, make it available through the web if you wish, but please credit it to Jack Rowan, and don't change it. And don't publish it for profit, or charge for accessing it. Comments will be very gratefully received by Jack_Rowan@hotmail.com ====================================================================== 1 A phonecall -------------- It's strange to think that all this took place ten years ago. I wasn't expecting Mira to phone me, but it wasn't a surprise. Mira is my brother's widow. One the whole we get along well enough, and after Tony's death we had looked after each other in a way I found unlikely, but good. That had left a feeling of alliance, but we didn't live close together, and to be honest, we only got in touch when we needed help; more usually, when she needed help. "David Branver speaking." "David? This is Mira." I liked to play these calls along, prolonging the conversation until she felt obliged to come out with it. She knew; I knew that she knew. We amused each other. "Mira! How nice to hear your voice. How's everything? How's Tim?" Tim is her son. No, her step son; the son by a previous marriage of my brother's first wife. No relation at all, either to her or me; a casualty of modern family life. But Mira had taken him on, and continued to take him on even after Tony's death. It was one of the reasons why I liked Mira, approved of her. As for Tim, it had been three years since I had seen him at Tony's funeral. I had a vague memory of a thin, pretty child with a mop of fair hair, and green eyes, rather quiet. "Tim's fine. Well, he's fourteen, you know; adolescence has him in its grip." We laughed, and I continued the small talk relentlessly. After a while, we were talking about her work. "Going well. Very well, in fact. In fact I'm off to California. It's a vast contract, a hotel complex." Mira is an interior decorator. No, an 'environmental consultant'. A good one, very expensive. "Actually, that's the reason I called." Aha. And I had won. I laughed, smugly. "Okay, okay," said Mira. "The thing is this, David. I can't take Tim. There wouldn't be anyone to look after him there. So... can you take him?" So that was it. For a moment I was dumb-struck. It was hard to say no; after all, Tim was as close to me as to Mira, in a way, and I had done precious little to help her with him over the years. On the other hand, I had my life, and in many ways my life was not really an appropriate life for a fourteen-year-old boy to be involved in, no matter how obliquely. "God, Mira. That's - well, pretty hard. I haven't had much to do with kids. I'm not sure I'd know what to do." "He's no trouble, honestly. He'll pretty much look after himself, and it'll be good for him to get out into the country for a bit." "It's miles from anywhere here. He'll be bored witless. And, well, you know what I am, Mira. I'm a gay man. Does it really make sense?" "Good lord, David, you're not a child-murderer, for heaven's sake. What a bizarre thing to say! Obviously twenty years of gay rights have just whizzed right past you. I'd rather have you look after him than most of my straight friends, I can tell you." Which was gratifying; but still. This wasn't the way I would have picked to discuss my personal life, but she had to know. "Mira, I'm a sado-masochist. I don't..." "Oh, so what. You think I didn't know? In any case, I don't mind a bit of that sort of thing myself from time to time." She laughed. "More people keep a pair of handcuffs in the nightstand than you'd imagine, I think. And as for Tim, well, kids aren't so naive these days, you know. It won't bother him, I promise you." Her voice was dry. "I trust you, David. It's just not a problem." 'A pair of handcuffs in the nightstand' was in no way an adequate description of what I did. Even if kids today weren't naive, I felt that Mira herself might be a bit shocked by the well-used contents of my basement. Oh, but that was another thing. "Anyhow the place is a mess at the moment. I'm doing work on the house." "Excuses, excuses. Look, I can't talk now. We're already on the way. I'm at a service station and Tim's waiting in the car. We'll be there in an hour." "What?!" "I'll just have time for a cup of tea and then I'm off to catch my plane." "What?! You haven't given me much choice, have you? How long will you be away for?" "A couple of months, that's all, unless there are problems." "Oh, for God's sake, Mira, you're impossible!" "Aren't I? See you soon!" She laughed maliciously and hung up. 2 A meeting ------------ "Fuck you, Mira!" I yelled at the phone. The phone said nothing. But my plans for the next two months, maybe longer, were in ruins. Shit! What on earth could I do to keep a boy occupied for that long? And... well, it looked like it would be two months of enforced celibacy too. Dammit! Andy would be back in a couple of weeks. I had great hopes of Andy, hopes of something permanent, something which would make some sense of my life. The last thing I wanted was a miniature chaperone watching our every move. It was a beautiful sunny day. I had woken in a brilliant mood, with the sun on my bed, but now I was truly pissed off. I hadn't lied when I told Mira the place was a mess. I was changing the dungeon round. I'd built a small room in the corner to use as a prison cell or cage. The toilet and shower area had been moved. Most of the work was finished now, but all my toys and equipment were still scattered round the house. The next hour was a scramble. Frantically I dragged as much as I could downstairs, collected as many of the toys as I could and crammed them into a box in by bedroom wardrobe. By the time I had finished I was sweating in the afternoon heat. There was just time for a quick shower, and when it was done I pulled on a pair of briefs, some jeans and a tee-shirt. I was towelling my hair when I heard the sound of Mira's car pulling up. Sod it, here we go. The very least I can do is to be gracious about it, I told myself, as I walked to the door. It's not the boy's fault, after all, and anyhow I owed Mira. Well. Then I saw it: the Chair, I called it. Bloody hell, I should have moved that. But there it was, in the living room. There was no hope for it now. That'll give Mira something to think about, I thought with a touch of malice. I walked out into the sunlight, avoiding the pile of bricks, the cement mixer and the heap of sand. The house may be fairly small, but it stands in a good bit of ground, and there's a two-hundred-yard drive. I may not be Bill Gates, but by ordinary standards, I'm pretty well off. Writing airport novels certainly pays the bills. Mira was already out of the car and digging in the boot. I kissed her. "Well, here you are!" She's a tiny woman, with small, fox-like features and jet black hair. She was wearing her usual black trousers with a dark shirt and a purplish waistcoat, bustling, efficient and organised. It was impossible to stay angry with her; we go too far back and had seen too many things through. "I suppose I've been a bit of bastard," she said ruefully. I gave an exasperated laugh. "Oh dammit, Mira, come inside." She hauled a bag out of the boot. Then the passenger door opened. And the world went suddenly mad. He was naked, that was my first thought. But he wasn't. He was wearing a skin-tight fawn-coloured swimsuit, and nothing else. Unless you count the flannel sweat-bands round his wrists, and the rubber flip-flops. He was beautiful. He was simply the most beautiful human being I had ever seen. His hair was still fair, towseled from the drive. But this was no longer a skinny kid; there was muscle there, in the exquisite lines of the arms, the full thighs and slight ridges of his stomach, in the firm chest. He was five feet and a few inches tall. The curves of the neck and shoulders, the delectable rounds of his arse, the tiny points of his nipples were all perfect. The sunlight glinted from his smooth tanned skin. I just stood, thunderstruck; for a moment the world seemed to stop. "Hello, Uncle David," he said, looking at me, with a smile. His eyes were still green and large, the lashes absurdly long. His face was fine, delicate, a boy's face, flawless, the mouth small. He reminded me of a Japanese cartoon. I stared at him. My stomach had dropped through my boots. I gasped and tried to get a grip. "Forget the uncle," I said. "You make me feel as if I was about 106!" "Is this all yours?" he said, looking round. "It's amazing!" He seemed to be one of those boys whose voice didn't break suddenly, but gradually lowered. At the moment it was a light, sunny tenor, it seemed to me, with some of the toughness of a man showing through. Because this was no longer a boy; one glance at his swimsuit showed that. I tried not to look, I really did, but I couldn't help it. "Well!" said Mira, as Tim ran ahead into the house, and we followed after. "Seems you won't find him such a pain after all!" I was horrified that she had noticed my confusion. This was the sort of thing which broke up families. At least; it could lead to the lawcourts, and worse. "Mira! I've never been into boys. Do you really think I'd..." "He's exceptionally beautiful, do you think I hadn't noticed? After all, I'm a practising heterosexual!" "Mira!" I said again. "Oh, don't go calling the social workers, for heaven's sake. I'm a good girl. I'm a good mother, actually, for want of a better. Just because he's beautiful doesn't mean..." "No, no, of course not. And of course nothing will happen. Like I said, I've never been into boys," I said firmly. "Hm. There's always a first time. By the way, he's quite aware of the effect he has. On women AND on men. And he knows you're gay." "Oh, lord." "Yes. Expect fireworks. Especially if he wants something. Practice saying 'no'." "I'm really not used to this. Teenagers. Teenage tarts." "Not a tart. He's completely, uh, virginal, I'm fairly sure. No girls around, or boys. But definitely a flirt. And doesn't know what he's playing with." "He's next to naked!" "His idea. Typical. He doesn't usually wear many clothes. Get used to it." "Oh lord," I said again. "What have I let myself in for?" Mira laughed. "Well, you'll see, won't you? Here are my numbers in LA, by the way - give me a ring if he's completely impossible!" 3 The Chair ------------ Tim was scanning my books and records. I led them into the kitchen and started fixing tea. They sat at the kitchen table. I tried to avoid looking at him. The whole situation had become terrifying, and I dreaded the moment when Mira would leave. How I'd get through the next two months I had no idea. I told myself I just wanted Tim out of my life. My dick had other ideas. It's big dick, a good nine inches, and thick. I thanked whatever power had made me put on some briefs. I turned away and managed to manoeuvre it sideways. I could already see that it was not going to give me an easy time of it. "You've got a Nintendo!" he said. "Can I use it later?" (The NES! Remember that?) "'Course." "Great! What else can we do?" "Well, there are quite a few things we can go and see. The sea's not far away. There's Moulton Castle, you'll like that. And there's Manton House, it's a wildlife park, it's got good rides as well. And we can walk in the hills, if you like." "Sounds good." "But I have to do quite a bit of work as well, writing. Also there's the building stuff, and the grounds need looking after. Can you amuse yourself a bit? There's the Nintendo and the TV and I've lots of books and videos." "That's okay, it's what I do at home. Have you got a computer?" "Yes, but I use it to work. You can use it sometimes." "Sounds as if there's lots to do," said Mira, wandering back into the living room. "What's that painting?" "It's by a friend of mine. It's a version of _The Good Regard of the Kindly Powers_. It's a mandala, you know." "Didn't know you were into that stuff." I'm not, of course. But I liked the painting. That's when Tim noticed the Chair. "What's this?" Originally, it had been a dentist's chair. You sat in it, and it raised, and lowered, and tilted. But I had changed it. I removed most of the part you put your legs on, and replaced it with stirrups, up and to the side. And I added arms. They were all adjustable. Once my victim was in it, strapped in it (yes, the straps were all there), I could change his position as I wanted. I could get at his dick and balls and arsehole without any interference, and there was nothing they could do about it. It was good for flogging, too. And many other things. It was one of my favourites. The last man who had been in it I had kept on the edge of coming for six hours, and then flogged to orgasm. Then I had fucked him, very hard, and very long. Tim stood by the Chair, next to naked, with his hand resting gently on the seat. My head whirled with luscious images. "Er, it's a kind of couch." Mira gave a burst of laughter. "What are all those straps for?" asked Tim. He turned his head slightly towards me, and looked out of the corner of his eye. It was enchanting. "Um..." "I would suggest telling the truth," said Mira, through her laughter. "Well, they're to hold someone in it. Um." "Why?" "For fun, really." "For fun?" "Well, it's a rather grown-up kind of fun, I suppose." "Oh." He blushed. "Well, Tim, you did ask," said Mira. She gave me a quizzical look. "There's more to you than meets the eye, isn't there, David?" "I told you." "Yes, so you did. Just how far does it go?" "Pretty far. Very far, in fact. But always consensual. And, as I said, it's a grown-up kind of fun." "Okay, okay, I said I trust you, David, and I do." Tim looked at us, uncomprehending. The Mira looked at her watch. "Damn, I must be off. I can't miss the plane." She gathered her bag and coat and started for the car, Tim by her side. I held back to allow them their goodbyes, but I couldn't help hearing them. "Now look, Tim, try not to be a pain to David." "I won't, mum." "None of your lurid looks and fluttering eyelashes, give the man some mercy, okay?" Tim giggled. It grabbed my stomach yet again. "I think he'll be fun. I like him." "Watch your step. Everyone has their limits, you know." "I'll be good." "...and if you can't be good, be careful!" They recited the old saw together. They kissed. Mira got into the car and I stood by Tim as we waved her off. 4 Getting to know you ---------------------- I looked at Tim. He seemed suddenly subdued. "Sad?" "A bit," he answered. "But I'm used to it, really. She often has to go away. And this contract is really good. We could do with the money," he added, in a worldly-wise kind of way. "How about some food? Did you have any lunch?" "Nope, we just drove straight through. Mira said she'd get something on the plane." "Okay, I'll just show you your room, then I'll make something." The room was small, but pleasant, looking out on a wide meadow with a few trees dotted across it. In the background was my wood. "I haven't had a chance to make your bed. Just unpack your things while I cook." A short while later he followed me into the kitchen, with a problem. It seemed we had left most of his bags in the car. Of course, no-one had mobile phones then. "So, what have you got?" "Just this bag - books and records." "No clothes? No toothbrush even?" "No, not a thing. But it doesn't matter, I'm quite happy wearing this." He showed off his swimssuit in a way which left almost nothing to the imagination, and gave me another of his sidelong looks, the Princess Diana one this time. It was corny, but effective. I really must stop this, I thought, I can't let myself by thrown into sexual begibbers everytime he moves. "My dear boy, you can't wear a single swimsuit for two months." He giggled. "No, after lunch we'll just have to drive into Banbourn and get some things." "I can't go like this!" "Well, unless you'd prefer to go naked, I don't see what else you could wear, so I guess it'll have to do. It's your own fault." Actually, Banbourn is tourist town, and at this time of year a fourteen-year-old wearing only a swimsuit wasn't that unusual. I put some plates of salad on the table and we ate. Or rather he ate, voraciously; I picked. "David? How old are you?" "I'm thirty-four." I felt like saying "thirty-four and a quarter". I supposed I was okay for my age. I run round the grounds each morning, I climb hills, I mix my own damn cement, I cut the grass myself, and my stomach was still reassuringly flat. My hair was showing no signs of thinning, with only the occasional grey one among the black. I still kept myself clean-shaven, and my hair short, and most of the rest of my body was fairly hairless. "That's twenty years older than me!" "Yes, and you'd better not forget it. Older, wiser. More experienced. Canny. Perceptive." Tim laughed. "Worse at Nintendo games..." "We shall see." "You're gay, aren't you?" He had crossed this particular barrier on the run, without even pausing, although he didn't catch my eye. "Yes, I am. Is that a problem for you?" "No, of course not. What do think I am? Of course it's not a problem. Anyhow, Mira has heaps of gay friends." He showed a flash of real annoyance, and I loved him. "Have you got anyone now?" he went on. "Got anyone?" "You know, a partner. A, er, boyfriend." "No. Still looking for Mr Right." As I had been since Vincent's departure, eight years ago. I winced internally. Was this the moment to talk about Andy? Probably not. "Mr Right?" Tim laughed. "What would he be like?" "Classified information at this moment in time." I hammed an American accent, and he laughed again. "Come on, lad, let's go and get you a garment or two. It could rain tomorrow, and then where would you be?" 5 A trip --------- My Range Rover passed his inspection, and we rolled down the drive and turned towards Banbourn. It was still a brilliant, sunny afternoon, and the wind rushing in through the open window tumbled his hair again. Beyond, the gold glowing wheatfields stood ready for harvest. "We must be careful you don't burn in this hot sun." "I don't burn." "Surely, if you're so fair... I suppose you're a natural blond?" It was my turn to give him an arch look. "Cheek! Of course I bloody am. My pubes are fair too, do you want to check?" "Perhaps not just now," I gulped, as a huge tourist bus passed us. "Okay, later I'll show you. The collar and cuffs match, as James Bond said." I looked at him in amazement. "But I don't burn all the same. Mira says it's not fair." "Not fair?" "To be blond AND not burn. I suppose it's because I don't wear a lot of clothes most of the time." And in fact he was tanned all over, not the flat tan of the sunbather, but the shaded tan of someone who spends a lot of time just being in the sun. Shame. I was quite looking forward to the sun block lotion scene - damn, what was I thinking? "What are you thinking?" he echoed. "Oh, er, never mind. Look, this is Banbourn. Let's find somewhere to park." Then we were walking through the crowded streets of the town, me in my jeans and tee-shirt, and beside me this almost naked boy in his flip- flops. "Not here!" he said, as we turned into a large chain store. "This is utility shopping," I said. "You can come and get clothes you like some other time." "Oh, okay. It's just... Most of this stuff is pretty dull." "Everyone needs some dull clothes." "I suppose so, but I prefer to look extraordinary!" "Well, you're certainly that today," I said drily, and he laughed. We bought some shorts, a couple of pairs of jeans, some underpants. He chose little briefs, I noticed. Oddly, he insisted on a pair of pyjamas. We added another swimsuit, tight like the first, but with a complex orange and green pattern. An armless denim jacket. A few tee-shirts, a couple of ordinary long-sleeved shirts (he chose plain white), and some loose, short-sleeved ones. Then it was a large, thick pullover (for the hills), and a pair of outrageously expensive trainers. Finally a waistcoat in dark purples and reds, rather like his mother's, and a large padded jacket. And a toothbrush. "Wouldn't you like to put some of that stuff on?" "No. Why should I? It's a warm day, and there are lots of other people not wearing much." "Yes, but people are looking at you." "People ALWAYS look at me." He didn't seem annoyed or alarmed. "I'm very good-looking." "You're very conceited." Tim laughed. "No, I'm not. I just know it's true. I AM very good-looking, aren't I?" "Well, yes. You are." "See? It's not something I did, I just AM this way. I'm just lucky, that's all. So it's not conceited to admit it." "Um. Not quite such the dumb blond, then." "Dumb blond? I'll GET you for that!!" "Come on then, oh intellectual and brilliant blond, let's go and get a cup of tea." 6 An encounter --------------- We found a place where we could sit out in the sun and watch the world pass. The hot sun did not dissuade him from eating a plate of crumpets. His appetite was enormous. "David?" said Tim, with a grin, "See that man over there? He's staring at me." I turned to look, and waved at him. "I just bet he is," I said. "He's coming over!" Sure enough, there was Ben Cranton bearing down on us. He threaded through the tables as my heart sank. "David, dear," he yelled, kissing me, "I haven't seen you in AGES". Okay, I like Ben, but he can be a bit much. "Well, no. I've got a book on. I've just been keeping my head down." "And WHO is THIS? Picking them a bit young, aren't you?" "This is my nephew, Tim. He'll be staying for a few weeks. And stop making insinuations." "Well, no harm in keeping things in the family, that's what I always say." "Ben, you're impossible. It's not like that at all." "Hm-mm, really. Well, must be away. See you! And you, Tim, keep an eye out for David. He's a dark horse, that one." If I thought this encounter would disconcert Tim, I was wrong. He was grinning widely. "Is he gay too? Is he your friend? I think he fancies me." "Yes to all three." "He thinks we're having sex, doesn't he?" "Probably not, but it makes something good to tease us about." "Well." He paused for a moment, and swallowed. "Are we going to have sex?" This was getting wildly out of control. But still, if we laid a few ground rules, that might be worthwhile. Also, perhaps he needed to be reassured. "No." "Why not?" The question was asked quite simply. "Well, in the first place it's illegal. In the second place, I disapprove of adults having sex with children. In the third place, you are my nephew, and placed in my care by Mira, and I promised to look after you, so I have special responsibility for you. And in the last place, I'm not into having sex with boys." Tim was still smiling. I couldn't help looking at his swimsuit; he was seriously hard. I swallowed. "Have you had sex with Ben?" "God, you're a nosey child." "Yes, I am. Well, have you?" Oh lord. "Yes, once. A long time ago." "Why only once? Didn't you want to again?" "I don't think either of us wanted to. I like Ben, even though he can be such a pain, but, well, not in that sort of way." "He's not very good-looking." "Unlike you, you mean, you little tart." Oh god, that was NOT the right thing to have said. "Tart!? Tart!? What do you mean, 'tart'?" His grin was ferocious. "A tart is someone who has sex with lots of people. Or who behaves as if they did. But I didn't really mean it." "Tart? I've never had sex with ANYONE," he laughed, "not even once!" His voice was getting a bit loud, and after Ben's fortissimo contribution, I felt a bit nervous. "Come on, it's time we went home." 7 A walk in the park --------------------- By the time we got home, the sun was setting, and a chill breeze was blowing across the fields. The trees along the drive were moving in the lengthening shadows. Tim shivered as he got out of the car. "Why don't you take all those clothes and put them away? I'll start making some supper," I said. "Okay. I think I'll put some of them on, if you don't mind." I went into the kitchen and started to put together a stew. We needed something to warm ourselves up, I thought. A few minutes later he reappeared, now wearing a pair of jeans, a white shirt and the coloured waistcoat, and the trainers. The jeans were light blue, and almost skin tight, wrinkled above his trainers. He had brushed his hair into a kind of halo round his head; I hadn't realised how long it was. He looked utterly delicious. "Mira sometimes lets me have a sherry," he said, sitting at the table. "Does she, indeed. Okay, well, I think we may go that far. You'll find glasses in that cupboard, and a bottle over there." He got them, but before he could pour I intervened. His was far smaller than he wanted, just a taste. What Tim would be like drunk was something I really didn't want to know at present. I clinked his glass. "To a nice two months," I said. "To us." We drank. "Do I look good in these?" he asked. I looked at him flatly. "As you said, you're very good-looking." "Yes, but the clothes?" He held up his arms and twirled, looking at me under his eyebrows. How incredibly camp children can be sometimes, I thought. "They're fine." "Good. I like to look nice." "You amazed me in town. You really enjoy people looking at you, don't you?" He blushed. "Yeah, I do in a way. Like, when I'm just wearing a swimsuit, like today, if they look at me I know it must be because they fancy me. And they do. Girls - and boys, and men, too. It's nice." I was pushing him. If he could embarrass me, well, let's see what embarrassed him. "So how come you've never had sex with anyone, in that case?" "I don't know." "Oh, come on, you must have some idea." "No." A complete block. The area was clearly verboten. I felt obscurely pleased to have found a limit to his expansiveness, but I refrained from pushing any further. I put the stew in the oven. "Okay, that'll be done in about an hour. Shall we go for a walk in the ground? You haven't seen it yet." We rounded the house, and walked across the meadow. "Is all this yours? It's absolutely enormous!" "Yes. Cutting all this grass is quite a thing. I have someone who comes to look after the wood over there, and someone else to deal with the garden round the other side of the house. But it still takes a good bit of work. The thing is, there used to be a really big house over there, but it was bombed in the war and completely burnt down. My house was built after, which is why it's much smaller." "You must be quite rich." "Well, yes, I suppose I am. I write books, thrillers and so on, I expect Mira explained. They may not be great literature, but they sell in huge numbers. And I've invested the royalties. I do quite well." "What's round there?" "Come and see." Round a small stand of trees we came to the lake. Pond. I was never sure what to call it. "Hey, that's great! Can you swim in it?" "Yes, over that side I've had it deepened. This side is shallow and full of frogs and plants." He ran down to the water's edge, squatting to look into it. "There's thousands of tiddlers! Don't they tickle when you swim?" "No, they swim for the hills. There are some really big ones in the middle, though. Sometimes I think they nibble your toes." "Ew. Can we come and swim here tomorrow?" "Sure. Why not? But look - don't go swimming without me, right? Promise?" "I promise." "I'd hate to have to ring Mira and tell her you've drowned. It could really distract her from her work." "Bastard! Can we really ring her up? I'd really like to." "Sure we can. I guess in the morning, seven o'clock, that would be the best time. But we'd better not tomorrow, she'll be dead beat and jet lagged. Leave it till the day after - we'll get her before she goes to bed."