Date: Sun, 16 Mar 2008 05:00:02 +0000
From: xenophon66@hotmail.co.uk
Subject: They Reach the Sky part 2

They Reach the Sky
by
Xenophon


Disclaimer: This story involves homosexual acts between two underage boys.
If this offends you, or is illegal for you to view, or you are too young to
read it, leave now and do not return.

This story is entirely fictitious, and any similarity to persons living or
dead, or to actual events is entirely coincidental. So there. All
professional sports results incidentally included are real, however.

Many humble thanks go to all those who sent such kind encouragement. Your
comments and support persuade me it is worth continuing. In answer to one
specific question, yes they will get to go to the Utd game- watch out for
later parts!

"You're always waiting for me, keep me sane when all is crazy, and so I
give you what's dearest to me" LK

Chapter 4

As George lay naked in my arms, his blonde curls against my cheek, the
clean smell of his hair in my nostrils, I was as happy as I had ever been
in my life. Every experience of my life somehow seemed not to match up to
this moment. When Dad and I had spent our best times together, there had
always been a hint of sadness to it- Mum wasn't there. My friendship with
James was a wonderful experience for me, but it was always just us- I had
few other friends, and had a rotten time at the school I went to at the
time, and it was a refuge from that. My new school had been a change- I had
friends, but none of them were close, I enjoyed some of my classes but it
was still work, I enjoyed the cricket but was never really good enough, I
enjoyed the music but could never quite live up to my own standards of
performance. The successes of the sports teams I supported were great, but
supporting West Ham and England meant the successes were qualified ones-
they were promotions, not cup or league wins, and England had been
substandard at football for a while, and at cricket, yes we won series but
not World Cups- and somehow the success of eleven men was not the same as
being successful or happy in yourself.

This was different- this was total, perfect joy, with no qualifications or
detractions. I loved this beautiful person I held in my arms, and he loved
me too. We enjoyed each other simply for each other's company- I loved his
smile, his endless enthusiasm, his quick laugh, the way he pursed his lips
and knotted his brows when he really concentrated, be it trying to dribble
past one of my players in Pro Evo or facing one of my off-breaks in my back
garden. I loved his shining green eyes, his beautiful hair that always
needed brushing out of his eyes and just covered the tops of his ears, his
clear, pale skin and his pure, honest voice that always told you exactly
what he was thinking. But most of all, I loved him for his openness, and
his acceptance of me- he loved me in return, he didn't mind me being geeky,
too thin, not as good at sports as I wanted, not as good at music as I
wanted, he told me how he felt on the joyous Ashes win, when he said he
wanted to kiss me- God, was that only yesterday? The last two days felt
like two different epochs- one where we were friends, and one where we were
so much more.

But suddenly, a twinge of guilt began to sneak into my peaceful
perfection. He was younger than me, and enough that it mattered. His
surprise at finding my pubic hair was evidence enough of that. Oh God, what
if I'd pushed him too far, too fast? What if I had hurt him, confused him
or done anything that would affect him later in life? I couldn't live with
myself if I had- not because it would hurt 'us' (although I would be lying
if I said that wasn't in at least a corner of my mind) but because Dad had
been right- I DID only want what he wanted, and the thought I could do
anything bad to him was too painful.

"George?" I whispered.

He looked up at me, his glasses crooked from snuggling, his green eyes
smiling as strongly as the beautiful pink bow of a mouth. "'Sup, Rob?" he
asked.

"Did... I mean... you know what we just did?" I asked, not sure I could put
into words what I wanted to say, and slightly worried if this went badly I
would start bawling in front of my angel.

"You mean, us hugging, kissing and tossing each other off?"

His bluntness shocked me slightly. "Yeah... did you know about that stuff?
I mean, did you want to do that with me?" I was groping for meaning, and
realised I must sound either slightly stupid or, even worse, like I
regretted doing it with him- and not because of me not wanting to hurt him,
but because I didn't like him enough. I had to fix THAT part quickly. "I
mean, I didn't, like, force you to do anything you didn't want, I mean,
before I started doing it? Cos, like, I wondered if I scared you or hurt
you at all, cos I'd never do that in, like, a million years, and if I
did...ooof!"

That grunt was because he'd rolled on top of me, his face inches in front
of mine, his sweet breath washing over my face, my own reflection in his
glasses and his eyes. I felt his arms slide under my shoulders and hug me
tight, his legs on top of mine, our chests flat together, the warmth of his
torso against mine. I felt his cock, which felt semi hard, press against
the bottom of my stomach, and his closeness began to arouse me rapidly, the
tip of my foreskin against his scrotum, arousing me further. I lost the
power of speech. He kissed me tenderly, just our lips sharing warmth for a
few seconds. I slid my hands up his back and returned the embrace.

"You're worried you rushed me into something I didn't want to do?" he said
softly when we broke the kiss. I nodded. "I already knew I wanted to kiss
you- I told you so didn't I?- and to hold you like this. I knew I wanted to
see what you looked like with less clothes on. I wanted to be close to you,
and touch you all over. I knew you made my willy get hard and me want to
rub it- want you to rub it, and feel yours too. I didn't know what would
happen if I kept rubbing it- I mean, it's not like I haven't had sex ed
classes, but I guess I just never quite worked out the practical bits for
myself. I didn't know you'd shoot sperm like that- I thought you were too
young- but I should have worked out that too. You didn't shock me or
surprise me in any bad ways."

"You mean, you knew you wanted all this? You weren't scared?" I said.

He smiled. "I was shaking so much when you started stroking my skin, and
when we started taking each other's clothes off. I was really scared- I've
never done anything like this before, I didn't really know what I was
doing, and was scared you'd think I didn't look nice naked, or that you'd
laugh at my small willy with no hair. Or that I wouldn't know what I was
doing and spoil it. But I knew I wanted to do that with you, and I could
put up with being scared and risk you not liking me if that was the way to
do it. I was ready- I'd hate it if you thought you'd hurt me, I LOVED what
we did! I want to do stuff like this with you all the time."

I grinned with him. "I loved it too, and I want to do it all the time as
well. I was just as scared as you- I was worried you'd think I was ugly
naked, or that my dick looked funny too. I'd never laugh at yours though- I
love the way it looks. It's perfect- just like the rest of you. You look
really nice naked. The hair will grow, and when it does, I'll love that
too, but you're just right, right now! I love you George!"

"I love you too!" He kissed me, fiercely this time, his mouth opening and
his tongue forcing his way between my lips. I was rock hard again and,
judging by the way his dick was stabbing me in the belly, so was he. "And
you're dick looks really nice too!" He rolled off me slightly, so he could
see my package. "I think your hair is really cool, I love how your balls
hang loose, how you have hair on them too, I like how it's darker than the
rest of you, how your balls are big and your cock's long and thick." While
he was saying this, he had been stroking my bush, then fondling my scrotum,
then playing with the hair on it, then cupping my balls, then grasping my
cock. I moaned as he did this. "I like how your foreskin's long, and slides
up and down so well."

He had begun to masturbate me properly now, his left arm around my neck as
he lay to my right, his right hand sliding my foreskin up and down,
exposing the purple head to the air. With my right arm around his back, I
pulled us closer and our lips meshed like they had been made to do so, our
tongues dancing together, along each others teeth and lips, then more
dancing. My left hand found his rigid cock, standing so proud from his
milky groin, and began to stroke him up and down with my whole hand, his
pink glans exposing to the warm air. I could only get about three fingers
around his shaft, so I gently caressed his scrotum with my little finger,
and would flick the edge of my index finger across his sensitive piss slit
on the upstroke. We were moaning softly into each others mouths, needing to
grip each other tightly as we jerked reflexively from the intense pleasure
we were giving each other.

My fears had disappeared- we both wanted this, we both LOVED doing this to
each other, to the person we loved. We never wanted this to end, to stop
this pleasure, to break this warm embrace and this kiss aflame with mutual
passion. As the soft warmth of his hand went up and down though, I began to
feel myself rise towards orgasm. I tried to fend it off, not wanting this
to ever end, but to no avail- it was almost upon me. I broke the kiss.

"George, I'm gonna..." I gasped.

"Me too, do it on me!" he managed to blurt out, shaking from the feelings
wracking his lithe, smooth, creamy body.

He pulled me back to his lips, our tongues simply pressing together, trying
to become one with each other, and that pushed me forcefully over the
edge. I grunted powerfully into his mouth, and he moaned into mine. I came,
my watery semen spraying over his groin, my hand and his belly, before the
final shots coated his supple fingers. I felt his cock spasm at exactly the
same time I began to cum, even more strongly than the first time I had
brought him to orgasm. We came together, each stroking the other
throughout, our moans lost into each others mouth, two boys expressing
their complete love for each other, until our cocks became too sensitive
and we released them, letting them fall limply to our groins. We kept
kissing for minutes afterwards.

We broke for air. He brought his semen-coated hand to his mouth and licked
it shiny and clean. I don't know why, but the sight of him eating my sperm
I found incredibly hot. God I loved him! I reached to his bedside table for
a tissue, and was about to wipe my hand up, when he stopped me and brought
my hand in front of his face, and licked my semen from my hand. The feeling
of his tongue on my hand was so sensual, and the sight of his pink tongue,
in my own mouth until seconds ago, running across my hand, collecting my
semen like it was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted, had my cock
incredibly begin to stir again.

"Can I clean you?" I asked. He smiled and nodded. I wiped the cream off his
stomach, polished his genitals and mopped up the silken skin of his inner
thigh. He looked disappointed.

"I thought you were going to use your tongue. That's how I cleaned you!" he
complained. I kissed him briefly.

"Next time, my lovely," I said. He grinned.

"Promise?"

"I'd do anything you want, George, you mean everything to me."

"Anything I want? This could get VERY interesting!" he leered, grinning
wickedly. He glanced at his West Ham clock on his bedside table. "Bollocks!
Mum'll be back any minute! We should get dressed!"

Had two hours passed? Where did the time go! It felt like bare
minutes. Time really DOES fly when you're having the best fun of your life!
As I pulled my underwear, jeans and t-shirt on, and took the cum-soaked
tissue into the bathroom to flush it away- his mum might notice if he
suddenly started having wet orgasms without warning- I promised myself we
would have to do this again- as soon as possible!

Chapter 5

"What eyes can compare to you green and glowing eyes? It is in them that my
whole being fastens, eyes soft with love... where in the whole world are
eyes to compare with your green eyes?" LI & GG

When we were dressed, we sat down cross-legged and started up his PS2 and
loaded up Pro Evo, starting a game. I wasn't concentrating, and he was
drubbing me heavily in no time at all. I couldn't take my eyes off his bare
knee poking out of his white shorts, and when I did, it was only to look at
his perfect feet, the five cute toes of his left foot wiggling in time with
his adept fingers on the controller. We were sitting close, and I began to
stroke his leg and knee with my right foot. He giggled, and I was able to
disposes his player and score while he was distracted. He hit the pause
button.

"You cheated!" he said, laughter in his voice taking out the
accusation. "No fair!"

"Sorry! I couldn't help myself, your leg looked so cute!" I laughed in
reply.

"Give me a goal back!"

"No way! You're 6-2 up already!"

"Yeah, and I want to give you the pasting your play deserves! Let me have
the controller!" He was laughing gleefully the whole time. He dived towards
me, trying to grab the controller from my hands. I chuckled, falling away
from him. He landed on my legs, and twisted up my body to grab his
target. We were square on top of each other, and he couldn't reach it
still. I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He stopped trying quite so
hard to rip the joypad from my grasp, and I leaned up again and kissed his
lips. He returned the kiss, his lips opening and our tongues sliding
together. The game was rapidly forgotten, and I watched his face as his
eyes closed in bliss, his soft eyelashes behind those delicate spectacles
that seemed somehow to complete his face. We were lost in each other, and
while I wanted to close my eyes and submit to the waves of bliss washing
over me, I couldn't take my eyes from the face that had become the sole
focus of my heart. All fears I had earlier about going to far, about
hurting him or forcing him into something he didn't want were gone- he had
forever erased them, both with his words before our second mutual
masturbation and with the look his immaculate features wore at this
moment. I had returned to that wonderful place I had been before, that
feeling of complete yet simple joy. If I died in that instant, my only
regret was that I would leave him behind.

The sound of keys in his front door jerked us from our reverie, his eyes
snapping open. He sat up quickly and we both tried to like we had done
nothing less innocent than computer games. Before we unpaused the game, I
leaned in for a quick, chaste kiss. When I leaned back, I mouthed "I love
you George" at him. He mouthed back "I love you too, Rob."

His mum had not, as promised, been to Subway, but she HAD been to the
bakers and brought back some hot sausage rolls and fresh belgian buns. Yum!
After we had eaten, subtly stroking each others feet under the table, we
sat back, stuffed.

"So what did you boys get up to this morning?" his mum Angela
asked. Knowing George didn't have the ability to keep a lie from his face,
there was not a chance in hell I was prepared to let him answer THAT
question, and as I saw the blush begin to hit his face (thank heavens
Angela was behind him, so she couldn't see it) I jumped in.

"Not much. Played PS2, talk about the game last night, cricket, stuff,
y'know?" I hoped that sounded more convincing to her than it had to me.

"Oh, but it's such a lovely day, and you boys go back to school on Monday!"
she said. She looked like she bought it at least. "Well, you've had a big
lunch, so I suggest you go and work it off outside."

"Great idea!" I said, before George could open his mouth to put his foot in
it. "Lets go play football!"

George jumped up, following me upstairs to put our shoes back on. As we
went outside, we got a warning that, in no uncertain terms, were there to
be any broken windows. We spent the rest of the afternoon playing
football. I sat playing- George was so infinitely better than me, it was
him playing and me trying to tackle him- just about the only thing in
football I WAS good at, having spent so many afternoons doing exactly the
same with James. By the time Dad was home, I was knackered, and George
wasn't far behind. He knocked on the door to get me and George to go over
for ours for dinner (I think at some point there must have been an
agreement between Angela and Dad that she would feed me lunch and he would
feed George dinner- most of the summer seemed to have worked that way at
any rate).

"Ready to go, lads?" he asked as we slouched in front of the telly,
occasionally touching each others legs, feet and hands with any combination
of leg, feet or hand- at least, when no adults were around.

"Sure," I said, eager for more food, in the way only a growing boy can
be. Suddenly something hit me. "Err, George, can I borrow that book you
were talking about earlier?"

"What? What book?" George looked confused. He had a right to be- I was
making this up.

"You know, the one.... oh come up stairs, I'll point it out- I can't
remember the name. Be right back, Dad." I grabbed George's hand and dragged
him unceremoniously up the stairs and into his room.

"What book? We haven't talked books all day."

"I just needed an excuse to get you alone before we go over," I said,
before taking a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy. "I told Dad I
liked boys. He kind of guessed I worked it out because of you. He noticed
us holding hands on the tube yesterday."

The poor boy's mouth was in danger of winning the award for "Best
Impression of the Channel Tunnel".

"But... I..."

"He's ok with it- really, he's, like, totally cool with me being gay- he
just wants me to be happy, and if loving boys not girls makes me happy,
then that makes him happy too," I interrupted, suddenly feeling very proud
of having such a cool dad. "I just wanted to ask, I mean, would it be ok
if, you know, obviously after you've gone home tonight, like, I... told him
that we..."

George's mouth turned up the heat on winning that award- any other
contenders were surely out of the running now. "YOU WAN'T TO TELL HIM WHAT
WE DID?"

"NO!" I said, shuddering. "God no, I really don't want him to know about
THAT. That would be, just, well, wrong! No, just that I told you how I
felt, and that you feel the same. If you're worried he'd tell your parents,
I promise, he never would. Close your mouth, dear, it's summer, you'll
catch a fly in a minute."

The award was lost, just when it had looked a shoo-in- in fact, I he shut
his mouth so hard I was worried he would bite that agile tongue I enjoyed
so much. He thought for a moment.

"You really want to tell him?"

"I trust him, and he I want him to be able to trust me. He can't do that if
I don't tell him important things- and you're as important as it
gets. Yeah, I really want to tell him."

George smiled, and hugged me. "OK, Rob, if you're sure he won't tell me
folks, you tell him. I love you. Know, we'd better pick a book out for you
to take back with you, or your dad'll get sus. Have you read 'Heir to the
Empire' by Timothy Zahn?"

"No. Good?"

"Blinding!"

And so, alibi in hand, we returned to my house for a dinner of Dad's stir
fry and sticky toffee pudding. Sticky toffee pudding was the only dessert
he could make, but as it was really good, and it was my favourite anyway,
there were no complaints from either well-fed boy. After dinner we played
cricket for about an hour. Over the summer we'd worked out he was a poor
bowler but could bat, and I was a poor batsman but could bowl, so it was
mainly me bowling my off-breaks to him. We had a scoring system worked out-
if he hit the ball into the fence along the ground, he got four, but if it
was in the air it was a wicket to me. If he got it onto the patio without
bouncing, he got six, and if it bounced it was four. If he hit it out of
the garden, not only did he have to sneak into the neighbour's garden to
get it back, but it was another wicket to me. Obviously any catches I took,
leg-before-wickets, clean bowled and edges went in my wicket column. For
those uninitiated to cricket, don't worry- it's not as complicated as it
sounds, and there is still time for you to learn the fine sport!

After the hour, he it was 67 for 4- which we agreed was probably my
game. Ok, so it didn't happen often, but I won something! Hurrah. Sadly,
the victory was soured as it marked George having to go home for the
night. We discretely went into my room, pretending I was lending him a book
in return. We had a fierce embrace, and I was feeling sad that I would have
to spend the next twelve hours or so without this wonderful boy in my
life. The only good thing was that I would be asleep for much of that time-
scant relief, but better than nothing. We had a final, tender kiss, our
tongues intertwining gently, rather than with the fire of earlier
today. With one hand, I stroked his soft, blonde curls, and with the other,
the soft skin of his lower back. His smaller hands were cupping the back of
my neck, the other hand sneaking down just inside the seam at the back of
my underwear. As we parted the kiss, I saw myself reflected twice each in
his glasses and eyes.

"I love you," I whispered, hugging him tightly.

"Love you too," he whispered in my ear.

"Bugger, we need another excuse. Erm, do you know "Legend" by David
Gemmell. He shook his head. "Read it! It rocks! Just don't let your mum
find it- it's a bit violent."

"Cool!"

And with that, he was gone. He was only over the road, but for my heart
(and, if I'm honest, my aching prick), it might as well have been over the
ocean.

I went into the back room downstairs to talk to Dad. He was reading- he was
something of a fantasy nut too, but this was from the collection he kept on
a shelf too high for me to reach, and under the instruction "Touch those
before you're fourteen, and you lose your West Ham season ticket!", which
was a potential fate severe enough to keep my curiosity in check. There was
loud music on- Dad was an old rocker, and this sounded vaguely like one of
his angry punk records. In years to come, I was to garner my own
appreciation for this type of music- but at the time it sounded like
tuneless noise and artless shouting.

"Hi, Rob," he said as I knocked and came in. I didn't have to knock- he
wasn't strict like that, you only had to knock on bathroom and bedroom
doors if they were closed, in his rules- but it was polite. He turned the
music down so we could hear each other. He put his book down. I still
lurked by the door, nervous. "Something on your mind?"

"Kinda."

"Wanna talk about it?" I nodded. Then I did something I hadn't done in
months- I sat on his knee. Don't get me wrong, Dad was a tactile father and
I was never starved for affection, physical or otherwise, but I had felt a
bit too old for that recently. I guess I just wanted physical contact with
him- to know he still loved me. "What's that for? You haven't let me have
you on my knee in ages." He hugged me to him. I smiled at him. "You worried
things might have changed?" I nodded. He kissed me on the side of the
head. "Never. I'll still want to hug you when you're old and I'm
ancient. You being gay doesn't change it- I told you that. I love you more
than life, and I'll hold you any time you let me! Clear?"

"Yes sir," I said, giggling as he snuggled me and tickled my side.

"What was it you wanted to tell me, Rob?" he said, his arms still around
me. I felt safe in Dad's arms, like I was still little- like it had been
when I'd been small enough that there was nothing he couldn't fix, when if
he kissed my grazed knee better it WAS better. Maybe I wasn't too old for a
bit of attention from the Old Man. That made me feel better about not
having George with me, in a strange way- that, even if it wasn't remotely
the same thing, that someone was with me who loved me the same amount, if
in a totally different way.

"You know, what I told you the other day?" He nodded, letting me
speak. "That I liked George?" He nodded again. "Well, you noticed us
holding hands on the tube yesterday?" He nodded again, patiently letting me
get this out in my own time. "Well, he had said to me yesterday that he
wanted to kiss me. So I said I'd like him to, and he did. We did, I
mean. He likes me too. We're sort of....."

"Together?" he asked, sensing I couldn't quite find the word. I nodded. He
hugged me tight to him again. "I'm happy for you, Rob, I really am. You
remember what you promised me though?"

"Yeah, Dad, I promised I wouldn't do anything we didn't both really want to
do- and you meant 'want' not 'don't mind'- don't worry, we haven't done."

One of his eyebrows shot up. "So what have you done then?"

I felt my face go warm, and imagined my face looked the colour of an
overripe tomato. "We...just kissed and cuddled. Nothing more, Dad. And he
started both of them- he wanted to kiss and cuddle me, and said so, and I
wanted to kiss and cuddle him. Really Dad, WANTED!"

Ok, so I lied- what I had said to George about wanting him to be able to
trust me by telling him the truth wasn't bullshit, but, hey, this is the
real world- kids lie to their parents about certain things, and there
wasn't a snowball's chance in hell I was going to say "well Dad, we made
out, got naked and wanked each other off a couple of times- he even ate
some of my cum off his hand, and licked mine clean too- and I think he was
suggesting a blow job at one point, too!" now was there? I'd tell him we'd
gone a bit further in due course, but I wanted him to get used to the idea
of 'us' first. Hell, I wanted to get used to the idea a bit first! Things
were moving damn fast, and just because I wanted them all to happen didn't
mean it wasn't taking a bit of mental adjustment. He was probably the only
person to see me naked since I was very little other than Dad and a doctor,
and he was certainly the first person other than me to touch my cock, and
absolutely the only other person than myself to jack me off or see me
cum. It would take a bit of time to settle that in my head, as much as it
excited me to remember it, as much as I enjoyed it and as much as I wanted
to do it again at the earliest opportunity (of course, as long as George
wanted it too).

Dad smiled at me. "As long as that's all- you may be growing up, my son,
but you've got a bit to go yet, and you're still a boy- much as you might
think otherwise- and George IS younger than you- then ok." He hugged me
again. "Did you like it?" The grin that split my face nearly in half
probably gave him the answer he needed, but I nodded vigorously just to
make sure. "Then I'm happy for you Rob- I'm glad you found someone who you
feel that close to. Just be careful, ok? Don't let your precious self get
hurt."

"I will, Dad, thanks," I said, hugging him back, and placing a kiss on his
cheek. "Thank you for being here, and understanding."

"Anything for you, my wonderful son."

I took a bath before bed, remembering I probably smelt quite nifty after
the football and cricket- not to mention the make-out, and the remnants of
my cum that was probably still on me. Of course, I thought precisely that
while in the bath, and before I knew it was stiff as a post again. I
remembered the events of earlier as I jacked off- the feel of his mouth on
mine, our tongues dancing, his soft skin, his green eyes, his blonde curls,
his perfect feet, his beautiful, wonderful cock, his soft, velvety scrotum,
his hand on my cock- and with that shot my third- and by now quite small-
load of the day.

As I went to bed, clean, warm and sexually satisfied beyond anything I
could have imagined just twenty-four hours before, I felt secure in the
love my Dad felt for me, but mainly I thought of that angelic face with its
shining green eyes staring back at me, and the love I felt for the boy who
wore it, and for the immense wonder that he loved me in return.

Chapter 6

"When I'm safely in your arms, there I find my sanctuary, help me weather
every storm, you're my sanctuary, my true love." LK

The next day dawned truly unpromisingly- the sky was leaden, the air was
heavy, hot and humid, promising the first truly horrible storm of autumn
would hit if not today then tomorrow at the absolute latest. That would
mean heavy rain, thunder and lightning. Not exactly cricket or football
weather. Thankfully, with school not started yet, at least they couldn't
make us have rugby tackle practice in it yet- which they would if they
could. Ah, London in September- it's why people emigrate.

Dad had the day off- don't ask me why, he never had days off normally, but
apparently he did that day- and decided that, as the day looked like being
bad, it was the perfect opportunity to take me 'back to school'
shopping. You know, the type where shops deck out in pictures of sweet kids
smiling like they can't wait to be locked in lessons for eight hours a day,
five days a week for the next three and a half months, in order to get
parents to spend inordinate amounts of money on stuff that kids don't
really need but might be useful. In truth, I had grown somewhat over the
summer, and my school uniform had been a little on the small side by the
end of the year anyway, so the whole charade was probably necessary. That
would entail hours of trooping round the shopping centre, trying on shirts,
trousers, shoes, socks and any other paraphernalia Dad determined
necessary, before getting me all the stationary I could carry (conveniently
or otherwise, necessary or otherwise, useful or... you get the picture)
before a final jaunt to the school shop to deck me out in the various PE
kits I'd need for the year- rugby kit including jersey (reversible- house
colours on one side, school colours of green and yellow on the other-
vile!) , black shorts, yellow socks and boots, white gym kit including
trainers and sports socks, swimming costume (there wasn't a chance in hell
I was letting Dad help me try THAT on!), and, depending how flash Dad was
feeling (and whether or not he was paying attention to the season being
over and not restarting till April) cricket whites, including spikes and
box (which is the protective equipment boys and men wear inside their jocks
to protect their 'equipment' from a googly in the goolies). Oh, the joy!
(Can you smell the sarcasm?)

That basically scuppered any chance of spending the day with George, and I
wasn't best pleased. He came over to see if I wanted to go round to his,
but Dad answered the door before I could get downstairs.

"Ah, George," he said. "Come in."

George looked past Dad at me, his eyes asking a question. I nodded. He
looked like he wanted the ground to open at that particular moment,
preferably closing over him again straight away.

"Rob and I have to go shopping today, so I'm afraid he won't be able to
come over today, but you're welcome to come over when we get back- to be
honest, I'd imagine Rob will need it after what I'm about to put him
through!" Dad put his hand on George's shoulder. "You're welcome at our
house any time you like- as long as you have permission from your parents,
of course. I'm really glad my son has such a good friend. He was nervous
moving here, leaving his best friend James behind, but you've made him not
miss him too much, and made him happy in your own right. Thank you." He
held his hand out for George. Tentatively, George took it, shaking it in
the timid ways young boys do. "I tell you what- as you'll miss out today,
while we're out, why don't you ask your parents if you can stay over
tonight. Doesn't quite make up for it, I know, but will that help a bit?"

The look on George's face was like the sun coming up over a snow field-
dazzling. I imagined mine was fairly close to a similar radiance. Dad would
get a big hug and kiss when George went, and I promised myself I would
behave and be patient throughout the horror to come, even if it killed
me. I would do all my chores and homework for a month without being asked
once, too, I vowed.

George shot out the door after saying goodbye to us, seemingly happy with
the outcome, if not what he expected. Dad got the big hug and kiss, and I
told him my promises. He laughed.

"That's very sweet, mate, but don't make promises you can't keep! And you
still have to go to bed at a decent hour."

The day was just as vile as I'd anticipated. The shopping was miserable,
and it seemed most of the families of south London had the same plan as Dad
today- boys and girls crowded together, being forced to traipse around the
shopping centre, trying on various items of clothes before parading in
front of their parents so they could check the fit. After buying what Dad
was satisfied with as being able to get me through at least six months of
school wear and tear, and enough pencils, pens and erasers to run a small
newspaper office, we went to the school shop. After buying the gym kit,
swimming costume (which Dad thankfully let me assess the fit of on my own)
and the hated rugby gear, Dad surprisingly insisted I try all the cricket
whites out, and make sure my box fitted.

"Didn't I tell you?" he grinned. "I signed you up for winter nets. Monday
nights all term, two hours of cricket training."

"Thanks Dad!" I exclaimed, hugging him in public, not particularly caring
there were a couple of kids in my year in the shop too.

"Not spikes though- you can use your gym shoes in the nets as it's indoors,
and get new spikes just before the season, if you've outgrown the old
ones."

I managed to persuade him I simply HAD to have my own pads, gloves and a
new bat- after all, it stood to reason, if I'd grown taller, my old bat
would be too short, wouldn't it? And with practice once a week, I'd better
have my own kit, hadn't I? I suckered the Old Man hook, line, sinker, rod
and copy of 'Angling Times'.

As it turned out, my old box didn't fit- it was in danger of slipping out
of my jock, and crushed the family jewels enough that I would rather get a
quick delivery there than wear the bloody thing, so I tried some larger
ones till I found a comfortable fit. When I brought it out, Dad grinned.

"Growing down there too, eh?" I felt my cheeks warm. I was NOT going to
answer that. Suddenly I smiled- I had a retort.

"Did you expect it to shrink?"

He laughed, paid (bloody hell! The school must be making a flaming fortune
on the sports gear if THAT was how much the total came too!) and we
left. By know it was late afternoon, and the promised thunderstorm had
broken- loudly. The rain was torrential, and even running the short
distance to the car at full tilt, we were soaked, and the thunder was
cracking almost immediately after the lightning flashed. Somehow, I doubted
we'd be trying out my cricket gear in the back garden tonight.

We'd barely got the stuff in from the car (although Dad had already begun
opening the packets with my new shirts in, 'tut'ing and muttering he had to
iron the bloody things before they could be hung in my cupboards) when the
doorbell rang. I opened it to find a very damp George looking about as
happy as the weather. I quickly ushered him in, but I could guess his news.

"I can't stay over," he said forlornly. "Mum wants me to do some studying
tonight and tomorrow morning. She says if I want to get into a good school
like St. Dominic's then I need to be ready for the exams. I can have tea
with you, but then I've got to go back. I can't tomorrow night either, cos
we're going to visit my Nan early on Friday morning. I can't Friday night
either cos they want to do my 'back to school' shop early on Saturday
morning. I can't on Sunday cos it's a school night, but I can on Saturday
night- if you'll have me."

"COOL!" I shouted. "Dad, George can't stay tonight, but can he stay
Saturday- can he? PLEASE!"

"Of course, mate, that's fine," he smiled, noting my enthusiasm. "George,
tell your mother to call me sometime before then, just to chat- by which I
mean I'll persuade her I'll take good care of her son and make sure he's
not kept up all night by my hell-raising horror beside you!"

George and I cheered, and jumped in the air, high-fiving slightly less
smoothly than we'd have imagined it, before he hugged me around the waist.

We had tea, then afterwards George jumped up, heading for the door.

"Bye doc! Thanks so much!" he said. "I've got to go. I'll tell Mum. Bye
Rob, I'll call you tomorrow when I've done my work."

"Bye George," I said, letting him out. "Thanks Dad!"

"I meant it, Rob- 'sleepover' means sleep. At a sane hour- you have school
Monday too."

"Yes Dad."

The next day was largely uneventful. I'd spent the evening reading 'Heir to
the Empire' (and masturbating vigorously to the beautiful image of George
standing naked and splendid in front of me), and liked it a lot. I was a
quick reader, and by the time the phone rang to tell me I could go over to
George's it was finished- I was ready for the next book in the series. As
his mum was in all afternoon, we couldn't get as close as we'd like, so had
to make do with a few chaste kisses and cuddles when it was safe. We spent
the rest of the time playing PS2 or discussing the books we'd leant each
other. He'd not finished 'Legend' (awesome book- if you haven't read it,
do! It's not a child's book, it's a proper grown-up fantasy novel) but was
in enough of a distance that we could discuss both works. We agreed we both
had good taste.

He sent me away with 'Dark Force Rising', the next part of the trilogy
started by 'Heir to the Empire'. I knew I wouldn't see George tomorrow or
the next morning, so I called James (who was back from his jaunt to Laos or
somewhere equally far and exotic) and arranged to go to his house for the
day the next day. Saturday was already sorted- one of Dad's football mates
had tickets to the away game with Fulham that he wouldn't be able to use,
as he had to go to his mother-in-law's funeral, and Dad had been happy to
take them off his hands.

I went to bad sad my little love was not with me, but as I fell asleep I
was glad I still had my oldest friend as well as my new lover, and with my
mouth watering at the prospect of being able to sleep with said lover in my
arms. Of course, I had another mind-blowing climax thinking of my love in
my arms, our hands wrapped around each others shafts, beforehand.

It was good to see James, and he had some great stories about his holiday
to Sumatra (as it turned out to have been). He'd brought me this cool
wooden mask, painted in an intimidating fashion, back- I would have to make
sure not to hang it somewhere I could see it from my bed though, because if
I woke up in the middle of the night and saw THAT staring back at me, I'd
need clean underwear. We chatted a bit about football- Tottenham looked on
course for a good season, West Ham looked like bucking the trend that saw
newly-promoted sides get relegated straight away again- and what books we'd
read over the summer, and various other things that only two boys who've
known each other for years could know about each other, let alone find
interesting.

After a while, though, James turned serious. "Dude, there's something I
wanna ask you," he said. "Feel free to tell me 'it's none of your business,
fuck off' if you want, but you're my oldest friend, and we've always been
honest with each other."

I blinked. I'd heard the word before (I was a regular at football grounds,
so language was not something that easily offended me), but James almost
never cursed mildly, let alone so harshly. He must be serious. Oh... oh
bugger- don't let him have guessed. I nodded anyway.

"Rob," he said, "are you gay, dude?"

Oh shit. He had. Here we go. My oldest friend was about to kick me out of
his house and never let me back in. In his eyes I was a dirty poof. Why
does the world hate people just because they love people of the same
gender? I felt myself blinking back tears, but they flowed unbidden. I
started sobbing and put my face in my hands. All of a sudden he was sitting
next to me, his arm around my shoulders.

"Dude, what's up? It's no big deal! Hey!" he pulled my hands from my
face. "Look at me! You're my best friend! We're closer than brothers-
brothers fight, we never do. Well, except about football, but that doesn't
count. So you're gay? So what? I've thought you might be for a year or
two."

This shocked me- this wasn't the response I expected. Wait- a YEAR OR TWO?
I'd only known for a few weeks. What the Hell?

"H-how did you know?" I said, my voice shaking, occasional sobs still
coming, a few tears still streaming.

"Little things. We talked about the changes- hair, erections, wanking,
spunk- all that stuff. We wanted to know we were both normal. So I knew
some things turn you on, but you never looked at girls. A boy goes past
though, and your eyes were like lasers. Then when I was round at yours just
before I went away, the way you looked at George sort of gave it away
finally."

"And...you don't hate me?"

"Of course not! Just because I like girls and you don't doesn't change
anything!" he laughed. "Heck, this way I know we won't be chasing the same
girls! And you know your fellas are safe from me!"

"Thanks mate. That means a lot to me- I mean it." We hugged. We'd never
really done that, but it felt so good to know my oldest friend was cool
with who I really was, and didn't recoil from my touch, wasn't scared he'd
catch my gayness, or that I was repugnant. Strangely, his proximity didn't
arouse me- it never had. I clearly didn't fancy him. That, and I only had
eyes for George. "Anyway, we're too good friends to let any skirt or
trouser come between us- I'd never have chased after a bird of yours even
if I was straight. Oh, and it's 'fella' not 'fellas'."

"What? You mean you've got a boyfriend? You sly dog! Who's the lucky
bugger! Whoops- poor choice of words, sorry mate. No offence."

"None taken. And we haven't got anywhere near that far yet- but we'll see!"
I said, winking at him. He laughed. "You remember George?"

His mouth dropped open. "You lucky sod! Oh, crumbs, I did it again!"

"James, it's still me- use the same words. I'm not gonna get offended by
curse words that happen to be about arse-bandits, shirt-lifters or gaylords
like me!" I said. He laughed again.

"But, I know he's cute, but, I mean, isn't he a bit young?"

"He likes me, and we won't do anything he doesn't want- or I don't for that
matter. I really love him, James."

"So... how far... y'know, like, I mean..." the usually eloquent, articulate
and intelligent friend of mine had apparently lost the ability to talk in
sentences when they concerned sex.

"We've kissed and cuddled a bit, and we tossed each other off a couple of
times."

James jaw bounced when it hit the floor. "You swine! I haven't even kissed
a girl yet, and you've got a hand job! Twice! Lucky boy. Was it good."

"INCREDIBLE!"

We laughed, and changed the subject. When it was time to go, James hugged
me again.

"Thank you for being honest- friends for ever?"

"Friends for ever, James."

Back home, I read, and got ready for bed. My thoughts drifted to George, as
usual. My conversation with James had done wonders- I was secure in my most
important friendship, which made my life even better than it had before,
but it had raised some interesting thoughts in my mind. Cock-sucking and
buggery. I'd heard the words of course, but up till now hadn't really
considered them anything other than insults. I knew what they meant, but
had never really thought about them. Now, I began to imagine what they
might be like. George's penis was certainly one of the most appealing
things I had seen in my life, and even when we had been stroking each other
to pleasure I had never conceived of a week ago, it felt like there was a
way we could be closer to each other. I had had fantasies about touch
George all over- I had got my hands to most places, but I wanted a more
thorough, complete examination of that beautiful body- and now the idea
came into my mind that I wanted to kiss and lick it all over too. The more
I thought about it, the more the idea of sucking George's cock appealed to
me. I wanted it- really WANTED, not just 'wouldn't mind'. I wanted to lick
and tongue his balls, to bathe them with my mouth, to suck and caress his
shaft with my lips, to slide my tongue under his foreskin and all over that
shiny red head, to bring him to a new level of pleasure. Without realising
it, I had begun to masturbate, sliding my foreskin over my purple knob,
fondling my balls and rubbing the skin connecting my sack and crack, and as
I reached the thought of tonguing his piss slit, it became too much, and I
came strongly. As I cleaned myself up, I though to myself:-

Tomorrow's Saturday. Football in the afternoon, then George sleeps
over. All night, him and me, alone, four walls. This could get
interesting...

To Be Continued...



Sorry the last chapter had little action in, but I wanted to bring James
into the story- every boy needs a friend, after all. More action will be
included in the future.

Part three is under way already, and will be posted as soon as completed.
This will include George's sleepover with Rob (what will they get up to, I
wonder....?), and the beginning of school term. How will this affect their
relationship, with George studying for school entrance exams, Rob with his
extra-curricular activities on top of homework, and never at home during
the day? You'll have to read on for part three of "They Reach the Sky".

Feedback, comments and suggestions are always welcome and greatly
appreciated, and may shape the future of the story. I can be emailed at

xenophon66@hotmail.co.uk

Flames cheerfully deleted.