Longing

Author's note: This story includes explicit sexual content, involving contact between an adult male and a boy below the age of consent. If you find this in any way offensive or distasteful, please read no further, and/or if it is illegal for you to read such material in your jurisdiction due to age or domicile, please read no further. The author does not condone or promote any illegal activity. This story is entirely a product of my imagination, no minors were involved in any way in its compilation, and the characters and actions portrayed are entirely fictitious. The characters in this story may not engage in safe sex, because, being fictitious, they don't need to. You, as a real person, do.


****

On the Saturday afternoon before Christmas, I was sitting at home, watching TV and feeling smug. Smug, because I'd completed all my Christmas shopping, the presents were wrapped and sitting neatly in my wardrobe, ready to take their place under the tree on Christmas Eve, while my wife and two daughters were currently struggling around Manchester city centre, along with a cast of thousands, battling to complete their purchases. My wife had rung a short time earlier.

"It's a nightmare, I can see why you didn't want to come with us!"

"You see, it's not always us blokes that are disorganised at Christmas." I'd taken a day off work at the beginning of December, and managed to get everything done. "I told you that you should have come with me the other week."

"Thanks for the benefit of your 20/20 hindsight, you git! Anyway, we're nearly done, we should be on the 3:00 train home. Have the kettle on for a quarter to four!"

The Cheshire village we lived in had an hourly train service to and from Manchester, some thirty-five minutes away, and we only lived a few minutes' walk from the station, so it was a regular occurrence to go into town by train, rather than taking the car and then having to fight for a parking space, especially on busy days, and days didn't get much busier than this particular Saturday. I congratulated myself again on my foresight, and settled back to my armchair and the TV sport. I'd hardly had the chance to sit down when the doorbell rang. Do these double glazing people never take a day off, I muttered, as I headed into the hallway. Before I'd even opened the door, though, the salesman theory was pretty much disproved, because the silhouette visible through the frosted glass was obviously that of someone around the age of my younger daughter, 12 or so.
I opened the door to find a slightly built, dark haired boy I didn't recognise on the threshold.

"Hello," I said neutrally.

"Hello. Is Kim in, please?" the boy replied politely.

Kim was my younger daughter, in her second year at senior school, a couple of months short of her thirteenth birthday.

"No, I'm sorry, she's gone Christmas shopping with her mum and her sister. They should be back at about 3:45". It was just after 2:15. "Did Kim know you were coming?"

The boy looked crestfallen. "I was talking to her on MSN last night, she said she'd be in this afternoon."

"I think their shopping has taken longer than they thought, it's very busy in Manchester. Can you come back later?"

The boy looked even more downcast. "Not...not really. I've come on the train. I haven't got enough money for another ticket." He turned to go. "Could you tell Kim that Max was here, please?"

"Wait a minute, Max. I didn't know that you'd come a long way. Do you want to wait for Kim?" Max looked uncertain. "Don't worry, I don't bite!"

The boy smiled nervously. "If you're sure it's not a problem....I would like to see Kim today." He looked embarrassed, I could remember feeling exactly the same the first time I met my first girlfriend's parents.

"Of course it's not a problem, come in. I'm Steve, by the way, I don't go for formality! Take your coat off, there are some coathooks in the hallway, there. Make yourself at home."

I was watching a rugby match on TV, Max came into the living room and sat on the sofa while I resumed my position in the armchair. "Do you like rugby, Max?"

"Well...it's OK, I guess."

"I'll take that as a 'no', then! Would you rather do something else while you're waiting. I can put the computer on in the study, if you like."

"If you don't mind...yes, please."

"Of course, it's no problem. I assume you know what you're doing, or is there anything you'll need help with."

"I'll be OK, Steve. We use computers at school, and I've got one at home, too."

"I guessed so, it's oldies like me that can't cope with modern technology! The fridge is in the study, help yourself to a cold drink if you want one, or give me a shout if you want anything else."

I started up the computer for Max, and left him to it. I heard him go to the fridge ten minutes or so later, followed by the hiss of a soft drink can being opened. I wouldn't mind a drink myself, I thought, it'll be half-time in the match in a couple of minutes, I'll go then.

As the whistle blew to signal the break in the game, I got up and headed for the small room on the opposite side of the hallway where both Max and the fridge were situated. As I got to the door, I could see that what was on the screen wasn't exactly what I would have guessed that the boy's parents would've chosen for him to look at. Max's eyes were glued to the screen, and, although he more or less had his back to me, it was pretty obvious from the way he was moving that he was doing more than just watching. I wasn't a prude by any means, but this young boy watching porn on my computer didn't strike me as being a very good idea.

"You'll get me into trouble watching that kind of stuff," I said quietly.

Unsurprisingly, Max jumped as though I'd stuck a red-hot wire into him. "I...I'm...really sorry." He seemed on the point of tears. "My friend at school told me about this...website and...oh, I'm really sorry, please don't tell my mum and dad, they'll kill me."

"I don't know your parents, or even your surname, so don't worry about that. Look..." I tried to find something reassuring to say, "I was your age not that many years ago - well, about thirty, anyway! - I know sex is a big subject of interest as you start growing up. We didn't have the internet when I was a boy, but there were magazines and things - I found some in my dad's bedside cupboard once, and I didn't waste much time in looking at them. I learned more about what a woman looked like from there than from what little sex education we had."

Max looked very uncomfortable all over again, and, at that point, I looked more closely at what was still playing on the computer screen. It was pornographic, hard-core at that, but there wasn't a female in sight.

"Oh" was all I could find to say, at which point the boy burst into tears, burying his face in his hands. I was fairly used to the moods and emotions of girls, having two of my own and a younger sister who in turn had had a daughter, but I had no idea of how to deal with a crying boy. If one of my daughters had been as upset as Max obviously was, I'd have given them a big hug, but you didn't hug boys...did you? I laid my hand on his shoulder instead. He jumped again, but didn't make any move to brush my hand away.

"Hey, Max, come on, it's not that bad. Shall we turn this off for now? We can talk if you want."

I closed the video and cleared the browser history - I knew my wife wouldn't even know what a browser history was, but I didn't want my daughters stumbling over what the boy had been watching, not least because I didn't want them to think I'd been watching it. Max had calmed down a little, but was still sniffling intermittently. After another minute or two, he uncovered his face, and turned to look at me with eyes that were nothing short of pleading.

"No-one's supposed to know," he sniffed, "about me, I mean."

"What about you, sunshine?"

"That...that I'm...I mean I like..." His voice gave out into another sob.

I guessed what he wanted to say. "That you're gay, you mean?"

Another sob, then a slight, ever so slight, nod of his head.

"Steve, you're the only person who knows." He blurted out the words. "I had a talk with my dad a while ago, made it as though it was someone else at school who was gay, he told me to stay away from anyone like that, that he wouldn't want a son like that. What will he do when he finds out, he'll throw me out, won't he?"

"He can't just throw you out, parents have legal responsibilities for their children, especially when they're as young as you. Anyway, how is he going to find out, you're not going to tell him and neither am I."

"Do you mean it, you're not going to tell anyone?"

"Of course I mean it, I don't go around broadcasting my house guests' secrets to all and sundry!"

Max looked like the whole weight of the world had been taken from his shoulders. He smiled broadly, got up from the computer chair where he'd been sitting and threw his arms around me.

"Calm down, I haven't done that much. Not that I dislike hugs, but we've only known each other for about half an hour."

Max's face fell again. "Come on, I'm only joking, don't take it all so seriously. You've got to remember I'm only used to girls, I've got a wife, two daughters, a sister and a niece - not many boys amongst that lot! So, tell me, you and Kim are friends at school, I assume."

"Yeah, she's in my form. She's really nice, and interesting to talk to."

"I know that, she's a bright girl, but I also know she's looking for a boyfriend - does she think you want to be that boyfriend? Not that I want to sound as though I'm being some kind of heavy dad, but I wouldn't want her to be upset, and from what you've said, you're not likely to be looking for a girlfriend."

"No, we're just friends - Kim fancies a boy in year 9, anyway. I...sort of...find it easier to be friends with girls, because...well, sometimes I fancy the boys, and, besides, if it looks like I like girls a lot, people probably won't think I'm...gay."

It all sounded perfectly logical, and, although I'd suppressed the memory for years, eerily familiar. Familiar, because I'd been in exactly the position Max was in when I was his age, and a little older. And like Max, no-one knew. My memory began to drift to another time and place, almost thirty years earlier.

****

I had always been fascinated by the comings and goings along the canal and up and down its flight of locks as it passed through my home town, ever since I was a little boy. I'd badgered my dad to take me 'to see the boats' at every opportunity when I was small, until, as soon as I was deemed to be old enough not to fall in, or anything similarly deranged, at around 9 or 10, I was allowed to go on my own. 'On my own' was the operative phrase, because I had few friends and my only sibling was a sister six years younger than me, but I was happy in my own company, for the most part, and spent many hours, especially in the summer, either sitting beside one or another of the locks, or walking the towpath for the two miles between the top and bottom locks. Most of the boats were hired by holidaymakers for a week or two, but there were a handful of working boats, and a few owned by people who lived on them permanently, so, over the course of a couple of years, leading up to when I was around 12, I got to recognise some of the 'regulars' by sight, and they came to recognise me. That led to me chatting to one or two people, while they were traversing the locks, one of those people being Eddie.

Eddie worked for the railway, in some sort of engineering role, but his real love was his boat. He and his wife, Beryl, had, I later discovered, taken many canal holidays over the years, and had finally decided that it was the lifestyle they wanted to follow permanently, so they sold their house and bought a boat, spending most of their time cruising around the Midlands, always within commuting range of Eddie's job. I'd seen them a few times, and had taken a short trip on the canal with them once or twice, but the next time I spotted their attractive boat, Eddie was on his own. I was at the top lock. Eddie waved to me.

"Hi, Eddie. Where's Beryl?"

"Hello Steve. Beryl's mother has been taken to hospital, she's gone home to look after her dad. I'm taking the boat to the marina, I'll have to leave it there until Beryl's family problems are sorted out - we'll be staying with the in-laws for the time being. Have you got a couple of hours to help me get the boat through the locks?"

Even if I'd had anything else planned, a chance to take a boat through the whole flight wasn't something I was going to miss out on.

"Yeah, that would be great."

"Come aboard, then," Eddie offered his hand to help me onto the deck area at the stern, where the tiller and throttle were, "do you fancy driving her while I work the locks?" My eyes must've been the size of saucers, because Eddie burst out laughing. "I guess the answer's 'yes', then."

"Oh, yes please, Eddie, I've never done that before. Wow, this is really exciting."

Eddie laughed again as my enthusiasm bubbled over. "Come on, let's get going. At least the cut's not too busy today, we shouldn't get into too many queues."

We made pretty good progress, only having to wait for other boats climbing the flight at three or four of the eleven locks, so, just on two hours after we'd set out, I edged the boat out of the bottom lock, waited for Eddie to close the gates and come back aboard, and then headed into the calm water of the long pound which would eventually lead to the marina, ten miles or so further on.

"What time are you expected back home, Steve?" Eddie asked.

"No special time, my dad's at work and my mum's going shopping with my sister. Teatime, I suppose."

"Fancy some lunch, I'm pretty peckish. I haven't got too much stuff on the boat, but I can stretch to some cheese on toast, I think."

"Yes, please, that would be nice."

We'd been chatting inconsequentially while taking the boat through the locks, but, as we moored and Eddie started making lunch, the tone of the conversation changed.

"Have you got a girlfriend, Steve?"

I blushed a little. "No...I...er, don't like girls all that much."

"No? I thought all boys your age thought about nothing else."

I was starting to get a bit flustered, thinking 'Does he know my secret - no, he can't, I've never told anyone.'

"What's up, Steve, you've gone a bit red. Have I hit a raw nerve?"

"I...I don't know what you mean."

"Have I asked something you're embarrassed about? Don't worry, I'm very broad-minded. If there's something you want to talk about, I'm your man."

There was a long, awkward silence - there were things I wanted to talk about, but I didn't really know if I could turn my inchoate mass of thoughts and feelings into words that would make any sense, even to me. Eddie's tone of voice changed, from his usual bluff, hearty self into something much gentler, as though he'd suddenly turned into a vicar, or something like that.

"Have you got a problem, Steve? It's OK, I won't make fun of you, whatever it is. You're a nice lad, and I wouldn't want to see you upset."

I still didn't know whether I wanted to speak, and if I did, what I wanted to say. Then, like a flash, I thought 'Why not? I might never see him again, it won't hurt.' I looked up at him from my seat.

"I think...I might...be a...might like...," my voice tailed off to a whisper, "boys."

"What makes you think that?" he asked, even more gently than before.

"I found some...dirty magazines in my dad's cupboard. I looked at the pictures, but I wasn't looking at the...women, I was only interested in...the men. It made me feel...strange inside, kind of shivery. I feel the same way at school sometimes, when we change for games, when we have a shower afterwards. I don't understand what it means. Girls don't make me feel like that, they just annoy me. Am I going to be...a homo?"
I used the school slang insult, not really knowing any other word to refer to...me?

Eddie looked at me reflectively for a few moments, then turned back to the cooker and took the toasted cheese from under the grill, turning the gas burner off. He handed me a plate, took one himself, sat on the opposite side of the saloon of the boat, looked at me thoughtfully again.

"I think you're a bit young to decide. They say a lot of boys go through a phase of liking other boys at around your age, but they still end up getting married and having kids. I don't think it's anything you need to worry about too much. Anyway, if you do end up that way, what does it matter? As long as you're happy and you're not hurting anyone, it's nobody else's business."

"Did you like boys when you were younger?" I asked him.

The bluff Eddie briefly resurfaced. "Blimey, that's a straight question!" He chuckled. "OK, a straight question deserves a straight answer. Yes, I had a friend I...messed around with. He was your age, I was a little bit older, about 14. It started as a 'you show me yours, and I'll show you mine' game, and we kind of took it from there. We both enjoyed ourselves, no-one else knew, we stayed friends afterwards - he was the best man at my wedding, actually. I don't see him very often these days, he moved to Scotland, works on the North Sea oil rigs, but we still send Christmas cards and the like. There, so now you know something about me that Beryl doesn't even know."

"I won't tell."

"I should hope not! I wouldn't have told you if I thought you were going to shout it from the rooftops! I'll tell you something else as well." His voice seemed to waver a little. "You really remind me of him as he was when we...played."

I felt a massive rush of butterflies in my stomach, for reasons I barely understood. It wasn't fear, though. More expectancy, even hope that something - I didn't really know what - was going to happen.

"Eddie...do you mean you...like me?"

He swallowed, visibly. It seemed to be his turn not to know what to say. I wondered if he was feeling anything like the shivers that were coursing through my young body at that moment, like lightning from my brain, down my spine and directly to my groin.

He opened his mouth, but no sound emerged at first. His mind didn't seem to be able to command his tongue.

"I...I think...I do mean that, Steve."

For long seconds, neither of us spoke, we hardly even seemed to breathe. I broke the silence, the stillness.

"I like you, Eddie. I'm getting those shivers again, but I don't know what to do about it."

"Come over here, little man." I took the two steps across the narrow ocean between us, and stood in front of him. He wrapped me in his strong arms, drawing me into the warmth of his body, his clothes smelling of fabric softener and a faint undertone of some deodorant. He eased me a few inches away from him, his hand softly, so softly ran down from my stomach to the front of my jeans, where my boyhood was trying to punch a hole through the denim. I shuddered as his palm slid over my erection, then sucked my breath in through my teeth as he delicately squeezed my hardness between the tips of his thumb and one finger.

"That's quite something, Steve." He stood up, and took my small hand in his large one. He led me to the front area of the saloon, which was set up as a bedroom, with a curtained partition from the living area. The window curtains were closed, and when he drew the partition curtain across behind us, the light level dropped to very dim.

"Wait a minute, I'd better lock the main door." Eddie disappeared through the curtain, I heard the door being closed and the bolts being shot, then he returned.

"Look, Steve, before anything else happens, I need to say something to you. You're in charge here. If I do or say anything you don't like, tell me straight away and I promise I'll stop. Say 'stop' right now if you want to. I'm breaking the law, even by touching you like I already have. There's no way I want to hurt you, and I definitely don't want to go to prison. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

I nodded. "It's alright, Eddie. It was nice when you touched me. I know I have to keep it a secret. I like you, I know you wouldn't hurt me on purpose, and I don't want you to go to prison, either. I don't want you to stop."

He sat on the bed, and gently drew me close to him again. With exaggerated care, as though I was made of eggshells and clad in candy floss, he began to undress me. His fingertips brushed against the skin of my sides as he took off my shirt, what would normally have been an unpleasant tickling being magically transformed to a harbinger of enchantments to come. I trembled as Eddie began to undo my trousers, at which he pulled his hand away as though he'd been scalded.

"Are you sure you're OK with this, Steve? Please tell me if you're not."

"Eddie, I'm fine. I've just never...felt like this before, so...excited."

He looked into my eyes for a long moment, as if trying to confirm, maybe convince himself, that I was telling the truth, before allowing his hands to resume their task. He eased my jeans over my narrow hips and down past my knees, I stepped out of the legs, leaving the garment in a puddle on the floor. He looked up at my face again, almost shyly, as he hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband of my underwear, looking, I guessed, for consent to take that final step. I smiled slightly and nodded, feeling him stretch the elastic outwards at the front so as not to snag my penis as he removed the final, thin layer of my clothing, leaving me standing naked in front of him. His eyes devoured me, seeming to look everywhere at once, before a huge, somehow primal sigh escaped him.

"You're lovely, Steve, just as lovely as Colin was at your age." I blushed, as he continued quietly, as though speaking to himself. "I never thought I'd see anyone so stunning again."

I had no idea what kind of response was apposite to such a comment, so I said nothing. Eddie's hands found their way to my shoulders, and he guided me to turn around, very slowly, until my back was to him. Another sigh, dredged from deep within him, broke the silence.

"So lovely," Eddie said again, as his arms wrapped around my chest and hugged me in towards him, my head angled back a little so that my right cheek touched his left. "I'd love to make you feel good, Steve, would you let me?"

"Yes, oh, yes please." My voice had almost failed me, my words emerged as a breathless whisper. I was so aroused already, I could hardly keep still, I felt the need for touch, for stimulation, for the profound itch which was washing over every part of my body to be scratched. Eddie manoeuvred me carefully across his left leg and onto the bed beside him, then turned me around so that my head was resting on his leg, just above the knee, as I laid on my back. Using both of his hands, he ran his fingertips, then his palms, across every inch of my upper body, caressing my face, my neck, my shoulders, my arms, my chest, my stomach, sending tiny thrills, like electric shocks, racing around my torso and converging on the twitching, throbbing, stone-hard nexus of anticipation in my loins. I moaned and squirmed when he brushed across my nipples, sending another jolt of sensation careering through me. Eddie shuffled a little beneath me, then placed one arm under my shoulder blades and the other in the crook of my knees before effortlessly lifting himself and my light, pliant body, turning me around in midair and tenderly laying me back down at the head end of the bed, resting on a fluffy pillow. He smiled down at me.

"OK, Steve?"

"Yeah, oh, please, don't stop, Eddie."

He knelt on the bed beside me, and began working up my lower body as he'd previously worked down from the top, stroking my toes, feet, ankles, shins, ever-so-slowly higher, passing my knees, then reaching between my inner thighs and nudging them apart, coming up closer, any second now he's going to touch my screaming penis and it's going to be the best thing ever, I thought, I closed my eyes and felt...hot, wet breath on my glans, feeling like nothing I could even imagine, still less describe.

"Oh, Eddie, oh, that's unbelievable!"

He kept up a steady rhythm of deep breathing, caressing me with nothing more than air, then I could sense him, even through closed eyes, coming even closer, then, suddenly, the top half of my erection was engulfed in moist, gentle pressure from lips and tongue. I'll never know, from that day to this, why I didn't climax instantaneously, maybe it was the shock of the first contact, maybe I was so over-stimulated that my body couldn't respond at all. Eddie just held me in his mouth, stock-still, for what seemed like an eternity, until he could gauge, perhaps, that I wasn't going to boil over there and then, before starting to nibble and lick, dabble and suck, all with tiny, barely perceptible movements. The feeling just got better and better, until the whole midsection of my body, almost from chest to knees, seemed like an enormous sandpile of pleasure, with Eddie's lips and tongue adding grain after grain to the top, to the point where it was almost painful, then, with paroxysmal force, the whole edifice collapsed into an avalanche of delight, surging out from between my legs to deluge every inch of my body. I could hear myself whimpering as spasm after spasm of my dry orgasm - 6,7,8?...I was too overwhelmed to even think of counting - ripped through me, but the sounds I was making seemed to be detached from me, as though being produced by someone far away. Eventually, the maelstrom of feelings began to calm, and I began to feel uncomfortably sensitive.

"Oh, Eddie, too much, please!"

He released me from his blissful grip, very careful, as with everything else, not to do anything that would detract from my wonderful experience. And wonderful it was, a hundred times better than my boyish attempts at masturbation, like comparing an old wreck with a Rolls Royce.

"Eddie, that was so good, I've never felt anything like that in my life, thank you so much." I was very emotional, as though I could cry my eyes out or burst out into delirious laughter, or both, at any moment. "I want to do something for you, what can I do for you?"

"You don't need to do anything for me beyond what you've done already."

"But I haven't done anything, I just laid there and you made me feel fantastic."

"Oh, but Steve, you've done more than you can know. Every sight, every sound, touch, taste and smell of the last half hour is up here..." He tapped his forehead. "...up here for ever. And you've done what all the magicians and alchemists of the past, and all the scientists of the present can never do - you've made me 14 again, lying on a bed with my best buddy, loving each other. I'll tell you what you can do, come and give me a hug." As I watched, a tear or two squeezed out of the corner of his eyes, making me reach up instinctively and put my arms around his neck, and kiss him passionately on the lips, in a way I'd never kissed anyone before, and wouldn't again for many years after.

"Thank you, Steve, that was beautiful. Will you lay here with me for a while?"

He laid on his back, and I settled my naked body into his side, his arm wrapped around my back, my head resting on his shoulder. The next thing I remember, I woke up shivering.

"Eddie, sorry, I fell asleep on you. What time is it?"

"Just after 3:00." I shivered again. "Sorry, Steve, I should've found you a blanket, but I was just admiring you and enjoying watching you sleep. Get dressed now, and I'll make you a hot drink, and then we'll have to go - the marina closes at 5:30, and you need to get home, your mum will think you've been kidnapped."

I knew he was right, but I didn't really want to leave, I was like someone who had just had a mystical experience. I sipped my tea as slowly as I could, but the inevitable bottom of the mug arrived, and it really was time to part.

"When will you be back this way, Eddie?"

"I can't say at the moment, little man, it depends on Beryl's mum. Hopefully fairly soon, though."

"Eddie...thank you so much for today, it's been the best day of my life."

"Thank you too, little man, I haven't had many better ones myself, and, like I said, it's in my memory forever. Keep looking out for us, I'm sure it won't be too long."

He looked quickly up and down the canal, and, seeing no-one nearby, literally lifted me off my feet, kissed me on both cheeks, nose and finally on the lips, and set me down on the towpath. "For remembrance!" He laughed his hearty Eddie laugh. I never saw or heard of him again.

****

"Steve. STEVE!" I was jerked back to the present. "The phone's ringing!"

"Sorry, Max, I was really away with the fairies."

I went into the hallway to answer the phone, then a minute or two later, rejoined Max in the study.

"Sorry about the daydreaming before, you must think I'm a right one!" Max grinned. "I just got thinking about something that happened to me when I was about your age."

"Good or bad?"

"Oh, very good, one of my favourite days. It's just that what you were saying took me right back. A good friend told me something that day that I reckon you might like to think about, about being straight or gay. He said 'What does it matter? As long as you're happy and you're not hurting anyone, it's nobody else's business.' I don't think that's a bad philosophy of life." Max looked like a light bulb had gone on in his head. "That was Kim's mum on the phone, by the way, they've just left Wilmslow. Why don't you walk down to the station and meet them, I'm sure Kim will be pleasantly surprised to see you. The tea will be made when you get back."

I let Max out of the front door, and watched him walk down to the corner of the street. He turned, saw me looking at him, and gave a little wave. Just like the wave I'd given Eddie, just before his boat went out of sight for the last time, all those years ago. Just one missing piece in my jigsaw, I thought, an hour of my life giving someone like Max what Eddie had given me, and giving me what I'd given him - the chance to be a boy again, and a memory to treasure for the rest of my life.

But until that missing piece falls into place, I just have my longing.

****

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B