Date: Tue, 07 Mar 2000 21:39:27 +0000
From: Alexander <javu35@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Gareth's Story. Part 3 (of 3)

This fictional story contains scenes of consensual sex between teenage
boys. If this offends you, or possession of which is illegal where you
live, don't read on!

If you choose to do so, let me have your thoughts about the story.

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


GARETH'S STORY -- Part 3

By

Alexander.


Chapter 12.


So. That was it. I had completed my story up to the time I had been taken
into care. A few days ago I had definitely made my mind up that I wasn't
going to put down anything at all on paper, but now I had written more than
I had probably done in all my school life put together and in fact if the
truth be known, I had actually enjoyed doing it. I piled all the loose
papers together, placed them in a neat stack on the table and sat back in
the chair. Glancing at the clock, I saw with some little surprise that it
was almost midnight and suddenly felt very tired. My mind however was still
full of the things I had just written about, and although my body needed
some rest, my brain was still very much awake.  Deciding at least that I
aught to make half an effort to go to bed, I stripped down to my underwear
and lay on the bed, folding my arms behind my head, I stared at the
ceiling.

I was thinking of that awful day when I was taken into care - something
which hadn't gone through my mind for ages as I had done my best to try and
forget all about it, without much success.  Out of the whole sad mess, the
one thing that pissed me off more than anything else was the fact that my
mother had made effort to keep in touch with me.  Oh, of course, I had the
few almost obligatory letters from her once in a while when I was first in
care, but it wasn't long before they got fewer and further between and
those I did get were short and hurriedly scrawled just as if she was doing
a necessary but distasteful job. The last one I ever got, about a year ago
now, was just a few lines long - "I have found a nice man to live with, and
we are going away to start a new life. I don't know where exactly, but as
soon as we are settled, I will write and tell you." And that was it. She
never did tell me where she ended up, and as time passed by I cared less
and less.  The only times it got to me was when the other kids in the homes
I had been in got visits from their families - and I never did. No birthday
present, no Christmas presents - nothing apart from what the "carers"
decided to give me.  That hurt more than I would ever admit to anyone.

By now I had made myself thoroughly miserable and was feeling very sorry
for myself when there was a tap on the door, quickly followed by it opening
and Martin sliding through.  Carefully locking the door behind him, he
scuttled across to my bed, his pyjama trousers open enough to tell me that
he wasn't wearing any underwear.

"Wotcha Mate!" he grinned as he sat on the edge.  "How are ya?"

With an immense mental effort, I cleared my mind and turned on to my side
to look at him.

"Fine." I lied. "You?"

"Great! I just thought I'd pay a visit just to say 'Goodnight' to a friend
of ours. As he said this, he slid his hand into my boxers and took hold of
my cock.

Not surprisingly, seeing that state I had been in a few seconds before,
Martin didn't get the response he expected from me. My prick simply didn't
rise to the occasion.

Noticing this tardiness on my part, Martin took a good look at me,
realising for the first time that I wasn't all that 'fine'.

"Hey, mate, what's the matter? You look really pissed off."

"Yeah. Well. I am - sort of. I think I am just tired. That's all," I lied
again.

"Oh. OK. I'll leave you in peace then."

Martin's face said it all. He was both disappointed and confused.  He
opened his mouth to say something, but changing his mind, he stood up and
headed for the door.

Why I did what I did next, I will never understand. All I know is that in
some sort of mental flash, I knew that the last thing I wanted to be was
alone. More than anything else in the world, I needed company, especially
that of Martin, who already knew more about me than anyone else in the
whole world - and probably cared more as well.

Jumping from my bed I just managed to reach him before he got to the door.
Throwing my arms around him, I hugged him to me. Tightly.

"Don't go," I pleaded, and burst into tears.

This shocked Martin into silence. Slowly and very apprehensively he put his
arms round my waist, not squeezing me, but just letting them rest there. He
was embarrassed, I could tell.

Not even trying to talk, I just clung to him and eventually managing to
stop blubbering.

"Ssssssory!" I mumbled as I eventually let him go. "I don't know
..........."  I couldn't say any more as I hadn't a clue what to say.
Instead, I just stood there like some sort of idiot, wiping the tears from
my face with the back of my hand.

"Hey, what's the matter?" Martin said, with more concern in his voice that
I thought him capable of.

"Nothing," I started to say, but changing my mind, carried on, " I dunno. I
am feeling pissed off and fed up for some reason.  Come on, let's go back
to the bed. I feel like some company."

Together we lay on the single bed, our arms wrapped round each other,
neither of us speaking.  I couldn't, and Martin wouldn't.

I was still feeling strange, not fed up or anything now, just feeling odd.
Dimly I became aware that Martin was stroking my hair, just like a mother
does to her baby.

Opening my eyes and finding myself looking straight into his, I managed a
slight smile.

"Feeling better?" he whispered.  In reply I simply nodded.

"Good."

Gratefully, I made myself more comfortable, cuddling up to my best friend
and closing my eyes, I relaxed.

We lay like this for ages, both of us slipping into and out of a light
sleep.  For once in my life, I was perfectly at ease. I was feeling a great
deal better than I had just a few minutes before: in fact I was feeling
happier than I had felt for months it seemed. Opening my eyes, I pulled
Martin's face towards me and kissed him passionately on the lips.

"Thanks!" I whispered. "Thanks!"

Martin grinned broadly, but said nothing. He didn't need to.  Instead I
felt his hand grab my cock again and give it a gentle squeeze.  This time
it responded just as it should. Instantly I had an erection. No sort of
gradual build up from a limp, flaccid state to a boner, but an instant,
painful hard-on.

"That's better!" he laughed. "Now, that's something else!", again giving me
a playful squeeze.

I felt that somehow a barrier had been broken between us: I knew that from
this moment on, we were a lot more than friends.  I don't know what word I
could use instead, but somehow 'friends' seemed hopelessly
inadequate. 'Lovers' might be a better word. But between boys? Hardly. And
yet ..........?  I felt warm, supremely content and perfectly
comfortable. And completely unable to understand exactly why.

"Just a minute. Get up will you for a sec." I heard Martin say, "Let's get
comfortable shall we?"

More than willingly, I did as I was asked. Martin, for his part, removed
his pyjamas, revealing his beautiful prick in its full rampant
glory. Somewhat stupidly, I just stood and stared at it, as if seeing it
for the first time, which in an odd sort of way, I was.

"Come on, get 'em off!" he said quietly and with a degree of passion I
hadn't heard him use before.

Still unable to move, I watched as Martin pulled my boxers to the floor,
taking the opportunity to fondle my balls as he did so.

"Now, let's get cosy shall we?" he said as he pushed me delicately back on
the bed.

Wrapping the bedcover over us, we embraced and kissed. Not violently or
hurriedly, but slowly, passionately and tenderly.  Reaching out, he
switched off the bedside light, leaving us in almost total darkness.

"That's better!" were the last words we spoke that night as once more took
me in his arms.

We didn't have sex that night - at least if you don't call jerking each
other off sex because that was all we did. Instead we fondled, caressed and
cuddled each other almost all night. It was tremendous; in many ways better
than the sex we had had before. Being both perfectly at ease, we were more
than content just to hold one another and let our hands wander where they
will.

I don't actually remember falling asleep. The next thing I was aware of was
daylight streaming through the window, lighting up Martin's sleeping
face. In something of a panic, I searched for the clock and was relieved to
see that it was only just six a.m.  Still time to get Martin back to his
own room before he was missed.

Sliding my hand under the cover, I searched for his cock. Idly stroking it,
I closed my eyes and concentrated on the delicious feeling I had as it
gradually came to life.

"Mmmmmmmmmm!" Martin moaned as he slowly woke up, "That's nice! Don't
stop. Ever!" he continued, eyes still closed, but with a wicked smile on
his face.

With some difficulty, I managed to turn round in the bed, and took his
prick in my mouth.  Gingerly, I let it fill my mouth. Deliberately and as
sensitively as I could, I began to work my tongue all over it, savouring
every millimetre of it. Martin, I was delightfully aware was doing the same
to me.

I know it is a trite phrase, and probably much over-used, but the sex we
had in the next hour or so was the best ever. The episode of last night was
over and done with. Our relationship had changed forever, and for the first
time in my life I was truly content.  Not just happy you understand, but
perfectly content.

When we eventually came into each other's mouths, it was so good that my
balls ached with the effort, and they hadn't done that for months.  I was
knackered - literally!

Exhausted, we lay back in the narrow bed, one arm round each other.

"Don't ever ....... ever....." I started to say, but the tears stopped me
from continuing.

"I know. I know," Martin whispered, "I won't. We are mates. Remember?"

The alarm went off at 7.30. with enough noise to wake the dead.

"Shit!" we said in unison, "Fuck it!"

In something of a major state of panic, Martin leapt out of bed and
searched for his pyjamas. Hurriedly throwing them on, he rushed to the
door, unlocked it and with a garbled "See ya later!" headed back to his own
room.

We were lucky. It was only about five minutes later that one of the members
of staff came round to make sure that everyone was up and about.  Breathing
a sigh of relief, I washed and dressed myself before heading downstairs for
breakfast.

Chapter 13

Over the next few weeks, Martin and I became regular and frequent
bed-fellows as well as the best of mates.  It was even noticed by the other
boys as well as the staff that we had become the firmest of friends -
inseparable in fact.  To begin with, we had the usual "gay" and "queer"
taunts from the other kids, none of them ever realising in fact how close
to the truth they were.  It wasn't easy at times, keeping our relationship
secret, but by and large we managed it with only a few problems.

One odd effect we had on each other was a sudden, and to others
inexplicable, improvement in both our school work and personal appearance.
It was almost as if we were in some sort of unspoken competition with each
other to see who could do the best school work or dress the smartest when
going out.  This of course was noticed by the other inmates of the home,
and did cause a bit of grief for us, but once again nothing too serious.
The staff, however, if they did notice any change, didn't say anything.
They were grateful I suppose that I for one stopped causing them any
problems.  Still, a kindly "well done" or something wouldn't have hurt.

I didn't look at the writing I had been doing for weeks. There didn't seem
to be any point now. In fact I had almost forgotten all about it when I
found it hidden in a shoe box at the bottom of a cupboard. I had taken out
of the box and was about to burn it when Martin said that I aught to save
it, after all it wasn't finished yet was it?

Sitting on the bed, we re-read it all the way through, Martin reading for
the first time the last bit I had written, about Phil, the sauna, the
visits to his house, and eventually the visit by the Social Workers and
Police.

Thankfully, and as I expected, Martin never mentioned this last episode of
my life. The only thing he did ask was if I had ever had any sort of 'sex
fun' in the homes I had lived in.  I knew by now that our relationship was
strong enough to cope with this. He wasn't in the slightest bit envious or
jealous, just curious as a friend would be.

I told him that there had been several boys I had had some sort of
relationship with, none of them serious or long-lasting. They were fun
though, as I explained.

After we had had sex, there was nothing Martin liked better than to hear me
ramble on about some of the kids I'd met and the things we'd done. In fact,
we turned these stories into a sort of game where we would re-enact some of
the schemes I'd carried out to seduce a particularly attractive boy, or on
more than one occasion, how I myself had been more than willingly seduced
by another boy.

I discovered that I had something of a talent for telling these stories,
rather to my surprise. They were all true of course, but I did allow myself
a bit of 'poetic licence', if only to make them more interesting.  Some
were even amusing, like the time a mate and I somehow managed to go home
with each others underpants on - and believe me, that took some explaining!
On another occasion I had been having some rather hurried and frantic
jerk-off fun with another boy in the school toilets when we both came
together, and massively. Unfortunately I failed to notice that most of the
spunk had ended up down the front of my trousers!  It was the teacher who
suggested that I try to remove at least some of the "ice cream" stains
before I went home. Whether he knew or not what they really were, I never
found out, but I am fairly certain that he had a damn good idea. Anyway, as
soon as I got in the house, I dashed upstairs and attempted to wash them
out. The result was disastrous!  Rather than having stains which could at a
pinch be explained away, I looked for all the world as if I had wet myself
- and my carer was not best pleased. Still, I managed to get away with that
one as well, accepting the nominal punishment of being grounded for a
couple of days as the alternative of telling the truth didn't bear thinking
about!

These late-night conversations Martin and I had were fantastic. For the
first time as far as I could remember, I had found someone with whom not
only could I relax completely, but also was able to tell him exactly how I
felt without having to hold things back, or without being thought of as odd
or peculiar. He understood me, and I him.  There was no need for either of
us to pretend that we were something we weren't and that led of course to a
warm, comfortable friendship between us.

Chapter 14

Things ran along very nicely for some months. As I said earlier, my school
marks and my attitude has changed very much for the better and I hadn't
caused any problems for ages.  That is why, when one day both Martin and I
were sent for by the head of the home.  In the past this had always been
because we had done something wrong, and were about to be given a
bollocking of some sort. But this time, we hadn't done anything - at least
nothing I could think of. But it was still with some feeling of trepidation
that I went in his office.

"Sit down, both of you. I have something to tell you." He was smiling,
which knowing him as I did, was a good sign. At least we weren't in
trouble.

Lighting a cigarette, he leant back in his chair and looked at us for a
minute or two.

"Well, " he said eventually, "I am pleased to see the tremendous
improvement in you both over the past few months. I am impressed. I don't
know why, or how you have done it, but for whatever reason, you are turning
into two nice lads."

I was curious as to where this odd conversation was leading - if we weren't
in trouble, then what?

The answer came soon enough.  The home we were all sharing was being closed
and all the 'inmates' were to be moved out.  In the past, this wouldn't
have worried me in the slightest, but now I had Martin. And the last thing
I wanted, or needed in fact, was for us to be separated. The thought was
devastating, and I stopped listening to the head going on: my mind was far
too full of other things to worry about what he was rabbiting on about. I
came to, however, when I thought I heard him say ".... so you are both
going to Mr and Mrs White's home to live, hopefully, until you are able to
leave school and get your own places."

"What?  Sorry!  I was thinking ................What did you say?" I managed
to stammer out.

That smile again.  "Yeah. A bit of a shock I dare say. But we have been
lucky enough to find a place for the both of you together. We have noticed
how friendly you have become, and we thought that it would be a pity to
split you up if it could be avoided. So, if you agree, you have been
invited to stay with them next week-end to see if you get along
together. Oh, and by the way, they have a son of their own, a year or two
younger than you, so you should be OK."

Gobsmacked wasn't the word. We were both struck dumb for a minute or
two. It was simply too good to be true.  He went on to say that our
prospective foster-parents hadn't been told very much about the real
reasons we had been placed in care: a fact which I for one was very
grateful.

"As far as you are concerned, Gareth, they have been told you have been
orphaned, which in a sense is true. It's up to you how much more you tell
them, if anything."

And that was it. We went on the visit, liked the family very much and made
arrangements to move in with them.  What made it even more appealing was
their son Andrew. He was an angelic-looking13 year old: fair haired, brown
eyes - you know the sort - and with a smile to die for.  The minute we saw
him, there was an instant attraction between the three of us.  I looked
across at Martin and smiled. He obviously felt the same as I did. And a
sixth sense told me that our nocturnal activities would not only continue
(which had been a concern for the both of us) but might even improve!

Anyway, I have decided to end my story just here. There is a lot more to
tell of course, but just now I am so busy doing other things that I don't
seem to have much time - Martin, Andrew and I have found some far more
interesting things to do with ourselves than waste time writing. But I will
continue the story later I am sure - keep an eye open for it.


Gareth <javu35@yahoo.co.uk>