Author's note: Inspired by a science documentary I was watching earlier today, and the 'what-if' it brought to mind.
****
I walked out of my front door, my travelling and laptop bags in hand, on the way to the bus stop, in turn to the railway station, in turn back to my exile, otherwise known as work, more than 200 miles from home. It certainly wasn't a lifestyle I would have chosen, spending two-thirds of my time away, but circumstances, largely financial, had forced my hand. I was hoping that it would only be a short-term expedient, but the short-term was already heading towards medium-term, and the bad news which seemed to present itself every time I checked our bank balance seemed to suggest that medium-term would have to become long-term.
On top of these less than congenial domestic circumstances, I had another, deeper, hidden problem, too - I was a closeted boylover, attracted to those around puberty, 13 or 14 being my favourite age, that delightful phase of a boy's life when they were more than a child, but not yet a man, the most beautiful phase of any permutation of age and gender that humanity had to offer, in my opinion. My attractions came at a high price, though, personally - I was racked with agonies of guilt and shame, both at my attraction in itself, reinforced by society's utter hatred of those who 'lusted after children', and also by the fact that I felt that I was spending my whole life living a lie, deceiving my wife of almost 20 years into thinking I was a 'normal' man, with 'normal' proclivities, when, in reality, I was reduced, inside, to a whimpering mess by the lovely boys I saw, day after day, as I went about my life. They were all so close, yet so inaccessible, as though behind a glass wall, and none more so than Oliver. I only knew his name, even though he lived, as the crow flies, less than 20 feet away from me, in the house whose garden backed onto ours, because I'd heard his mother and stepfather calling to him from time to time, on sunny summer days when he was in that garden. He was, to my eyes, virtually perfect, in the same school year as my daughter, albeit at a different school, 13 years old, or thereabouts, blond hair whose fringe flopped lazily over his forehead when he moved, glittering blue eyes forming the focal point of a lovely, symmetrical face, flawless, creamy skin, a slender, but in no way skinny, body, long, coltish legs, graceful, flowing movements that were entrancing in themselves. Everything, in short, I could ever have dreamed of in a boy, right on my doorstep, but as far from being part of my life as he would have been had he lived on the Moon. All I could do was to gaze. longingly, whenever the trajectories of our lives brought him into view, with the deadly knowledge, all the while, that he would never, could never be mine. I could have cried, on occasion, from sheer frustration.
The short walk to the nearest bus stop took me around to the left, and past Oliver's house. As I walked up the little hill which meant that their house overlooked ours, there seemed to be a strange kind of discontinuity, just for a second, a sudden drop in light intensity, as though a cloud had crossed in front of the sun. I looked up, and there was, indeed, a cloudy sky - odd, because, lost in thoughts of my return to work as I'd been, I could have sworn that the sun was shining when I came out of my house, less than two minutes earlier. Still, this was Cornwall, and we'd lived here long enough to know very well of the vagaries of the local weather, subject to dramatic swings in very short intervals of time or space. I walked up to the pair of semi-detached houses that backed onto ours, the first where a friend of my daughter's lived, then Oliver's. As usual, I glanced to my left, hoping for a glimpse of the gorgeous boy, when a movement beyond the open garage door caught my eye. There he was! Wrestling to extract his bike from behind some clutter, his back to me. I'd taken no more than another two more steps, and he'd freed the bike's trapped front wheel, and turned towards the street. He looked at me, and, most unexpectedly, grinned broadly.
"Hi, Sammy!"
Suddenly, I was thoroughly confused, and more than a little nervous. He hadn't used my real name, but the name I used as my pseudonym when I wrote my blog. How could he possibly know? No-one, so far as I was aware, knew that 'Sammy' was me, and that suited me just fine, because my blog was the one place where I felt I could express myself freely as far as my 'hidden' side was concerned - I'd often written about my attraction to boys, and how it impacted on my life, and, on several occasions, I'd written, albeit not by name, about Oliver, and how drawn to him I was.
"Oh....hi....Oliver."
His smile faded.
"Have I upset you, or something? You always call me Ollie."
"No....no, sorry....Ollie, I was miles away, thinking about going away, and how I'd rather be staying here."
"Going away, again? Why? I thought you were back for good now you'd got that new job."
I felt completely rudderless, as though I'd walked into a hall of distorting mirrors. Everything, physically, seemed the same, the houses, the cars parked in the drives, the delicious boy looking at me, looking as confused as I felt. The 'new job' remark, in particular, brought me up short. I'd applied for a job within my company, based locally, only a few months earlier, and, as far as I could tell, I had been the obvious candidate, with my background, but it had gone to someone twenty years younger and with correspondingly less experience, who, it later transpired, was related by marriage to a senior regional manager. Sheer coincidence - or not, as the case may have been. Either way, I'd been devastated, having missed out on the only chance, possibly for years, of finding a position I could afford to take and still be able to be at home on a regular basis. Just then, I heard my mobile phone bleep, the alert announcing an incoming text. I fished the handset out of my pocket.
*Tomorrow's meeting has been moved to Drake House, same time, 9:30, please acknowledge receipt of this message and confirm your attendance.*
The message had come from a number I recognised, that of the area manager who had interviewed me in connection with my recent job application. And Drake House was a large office building, towering over the heart of the city centre, just seven miles from where I stood. My knees seemed to have turned to jelly, and I might well have physically staggered.
"Are you OK, Sammy? You don't look very well." The boy's sweet voice seeped into my consciousness, seemingly in stages.
"Yeah....I'm fine....I think. It looks like my plans....have been changed at the last minute, maybe I won't have to go after all."
The dazzling smile returned, brighter than ever.
"Great! I missed you so much when you were working in London. You're my best friend, and I hate it when you're away."
"I....missed you, too....Ollie. You're such a smashing lad....I was always thinking of you, every day."
"I love it when you say nice things about me - you're the only one who cares, my mum and stepdad couldn't give a monkey's about me, all they're bothered about is my sister. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't helped me, that day my stepdad said I had to be in the Navy when I left school, like he used to be, and I ran away. You were so kind to me, talking to me when you found me crying on the top field. I knew you cared about me, right from that first day."
The boy's eyes narrowed, and he gave a little conspiratorial smile.
"There's no-one in, you know. My stepdad is on lates, and Mum has taken my sister to the dentist, she won't be back for at least an hour. Do you want to come in, and....we can go to my room, and....play again?"
My mouth was suddenly bone dry. Play? There didn't seem, from his demeanour, much doubt about what sort of 'play' he had in mind. I gulped, nervously.
"Give me a minute, Ollie. I'd better....answer this text first."
"OK. Come in through the garage when you're ready. You know where to go, I'll be waiting." He gave me the most exaggerated wink imaginable, grinned from ear to ear, and wiggled his hips seductively. He disappeared, giggling hysterically, into the relative darkness of the garage.
I turned my attention to my phone, walking a few steps along the road while thinking about how to frame my reply - I had no idea, of course, of what 'tomorrow's meeting' was about. As I pondered my predicament, the same feeling of hiatus, of stepping from one reality to another, that I'd had just a few minutes earlier, recurred. The light changed again, brightening to the extent that I was left squinting as I tried to focus on the screen in front of me. The words displayed there seemed to dissolve and reform, and as my eyes readjusted, I read what proved to be a 'junk mail' message from my mobile phone provider, offering me £1 bonus credit for every £15 top-up I made. I turned around, looking back the few yards to Oliver's house, noticing that the garage door was closed, and that there were no other signs of life in evidence. I was so deflated, I was struggling not to burst into tears, right there in the middle of the street. What the hell had happened? Then, like a light bulb illuminating in my head, I remembered a documentary I'd watched, talking about the concept of parallel universes, how, by some cosmological theories, there are an infinite number of universes, where people nearly identical to us live nearly identical lives, and how, theoretically, it might be possible to move from one parallel track to another, almost at random. Surely that couldn't have been what had happened to me, to move from my regular track to another and then back again? Could it?
As I stood there, dumbstruck, trying to come to terms with my bizarre experience, I heard a voice. A sweet, young voice.
"Are you OK, you don't look very well? You're the man who lives in the house behind ours, aren't you?"
I lifted my eyes, and met the blue, blue eyes of a lovely blond boy on a bike. He smiled, conspiratorially.
"I've read your blog. You like me, don't you? Do you want to....play, sometime?"
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Saturday, 31 December 2011
Friday, 30 December 2011
Perfect
So sweet, so sweet, you beautiful boy. You're so close to me and yet so far, almost near enough to touch, yet completely inaccessible. Am I outside the aquarium looking in, or inside looking out?
In my waking dreams, I hold you in my arms, wrap you up in love and care, softly stroke your flawless skin, then whisper in your ear, gently suggesting, you smile shyly, and I hear the most delightful word in the world - 'Yes'. You lay back and allow my fingers, lips and tongue to take you to places you've never been before, places of wonder and joy, heights of pleasure you could never have imagined.
But I know it cannot, must not be, my dreams and fantasies must remain just that, and while I feel sadness in the face of this insurmountable wall, I don't want to hurt you in any way, you're too special to come to harm. So all I can do is hope for the occasional glimpse of your perfection, and wish for you to have a happy life.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
In my waking dreams, I hold you in my arms, wrap you up in love and care, softly stroke your flawless skin, then whisper in your ear, gently suggesting, you smile shyly, and I hear the most delightful word in the world - 'Yes'. You lay back and allow my fingers, lips and tongue to take you to places you've never been before, places of wonder and joy, heights of pleasure you could never have imagined.
But I know it cannot, must not be, my dreams and fantasies must remain just that, and while I feel sadness in the face of this insurmountable wall, I don't want to hurt you in any way, you're too special to come to harm. So all I can do is hope for the occasional glimpse of your perfection, and wish for you to have a happy life.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Wednesday, 28 December 2011
Lost
So many twists and turns, to come to an unfamiliar place
Like a sleepwalker, with no recollection of the route I've followed
Wide awake now, but my awareness is of no avail
All the landmarks here are unrecognisable, giving no clue
Of which way to turn, no way to recalibrate my compass
To find my way back to the places I used to inhabit
Rooms full of laughter, love, the comforts of home
All now lost, nothing more than a mirage in this desert of alone.
****
My hundredth post in this blog, it seems. So a milestone, if a rather bleak one.
SB
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Like a sleepwalker, with no recollection of the route I've followed
Wide awake now, but my awareness is of no avail
All the landmarks here are unrecognisable, giving no clue
Of which way to turn, no way to recalibrate my compass
To find my way back to the places I used to inhabit
Rooms full of laughter, love, the comforts of home
All now lost, nothing more than a mirage in this desert of alone.
****
My hundredth post in this blog, it seems. So a milestone, if a rather bleak one.
SB
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Tuesday, 6 December 2011
Confluence
Author's note: This story includes explicit sexual content, involving descriptions of contact between an adult male and a boy, and between boys, 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.
****
I caught his eye, just by the bakery aisle. He looked hesitant, just for a moment, but then smiled, as if to himself. I responded in kind, a little secret smile beamed straight into his eyes. He allowed his parents - at least, the couple I presumed were his parents - to walk ahead a few steps, all the while surreptitiously watching me from the corner of his eye. As they disappeared to the left, into the next aisle, he stopped, and allowed me to catch up with him. I stood close, but not too close, and made a show of perusing the chiller cabinet in front of me.
"Seen something you like?" His left eyebrow was arched, suggestively, and he smirked cheekily.
"Yeah, these pasties are pretty good." I nodded towards the display, and failed abjectly to suppress a smirk to match his.
"I'm Cornish, too, you know."
"Yeah, I bet you're just as tasty, as well, and nowhere near as fattening!"
He gasped a little at my forthrightness, but the grin soon reappeared.
"Cheeky bugger!"
"Well - if you don't ask, you'll never know!" I pulled my mobile phone out of my pocket. "Got a number?"
"Yeah." He rattled off the digits, and I entered them into the device.
"I'll text you when I get home - if you want me to, that is."
"Yeah, that'll be cool. Laters!" He quickly decamped around the corner, to rejoin the family group.
****
I was buzzing by the time I got back to the flat. I hadn't had any boy fun for months, well over a year, actually, but as soon as I'd seen him in the supermarket, I just had a feeling that he might be interested. Difficult to say why - I wasn't possessed of anything resembling 'gaydar', and, given the 100% negative attitude towards boylovers that modern society espoused, I was normally ultra-cautious, having no ambition whatever to find myself in jail. Maybe it was his self-possession when he realised I was watching him, the confidence he had in his own attractiveness. Because attractive he certainly was - right on the cusp of puberty, tall and well proportioned, but still thoroughly boyish in appearance, lovely face, straight hair, the lightest shade of brown that couldn't have been called fair, even, white teeth visible when he smiled, and, most noticeably of all, plump, pink lips that seemed to be crying out to be kissed. It would be taking a chance to try and connect with him, but, given his relaxed attitude in the shop, it was a risk worth taking, I thought. I wasn't intending to be reckless, though - I dug my old 'Pay as you Go' mobile, which I always topped up with cash transactions, out of the kitchen drawer, before composing a short, nondescript text message.
*Enjoy your shopping trip? Mine was fun!*
I pressed the 'send' button, and watched the acknowledgement appear on the screen. The ball was in his court now, I thought. I put the phone on the coffee table in the living room, and switched on my laptop, heading, as I usually did when time permitted, for the cyberspace ocean. It wasn't long, though, maybe a quarter of an hour, before the double bleep of my incoming text tone sounded.
*Yeah, gr8! I luv shopping! U out l8r?*
Good boy! He'd got the drift straight away, keep it neutral, don't say anything unequivocal. Make it look like a couple of kids chatting.
*Yeah, probably. Where & when?*
*Bottom of Fore Street. Half 2?*
*No probs. C u there!*
Just about every Cornish town, and quite a few of the villages, had a Fore Street, but I assumed he meant the Fore Street in my town, where the supermarket was. If not, we'd have to sort something else out. My buzz was growing by the minute. This could be something special!
****
The temptation, of course, was for me to arrive twenty minutes early, but common sense prevailed - there was no way I wanted to draw attention to myself by hanging around. I sat in my car in the car park behind the small shopping area until 2:29, then cut through the alleyway linking to Fore Street, crossed the road by the bus stops, quiet on a winter Sunday afternoon, and walked round towards the small gardens by the main road junction. As I'd expected, on this cool, grey December day, the gardens were deserted. With one exception. He grinned.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself, cutie! You've made my day - no, you've made my year!"
"I'm not that good - well, maybe I am! I'm Chris, by the way."
I held my hand out, and we shook briefly. His hand was deliciously smooth and soft. "Albie. You OK to come to mine, or would you rather stay out in the open?"
"It'll be warmer at yours, I bet. As long you're not...." His high, clear voice tailed off. For the first time, he seemed uncertain, even nervous.
"Not what, Chris?"
He flushed, and looked embarrassed. "Not....going to hurt me. Sorry....I hadn't thought about it until now, I don't....don't mean that I think you will....or anything."
I laid my hand gently on his shoulder. "Chris, don't sweat it. You're so sensible to be cautious. I can tell you anything, and there's no way you can know if it's true or not. If you're not happy, I'll just walk away, and never bother you again. Look, I'll tell you what. My car is in the car park at the back of the Co-op. You know where I mean?" He nodded. "It's a silver Peugeot 307. Have a think about things, I'll go and wait in the car for a quarter of an hour or so. If you want, come and meet me there. If you don't, that's no problem at all." I looked him straight in the eye. "I'll tell you this, though - I've been with a few boys, and I promise you I've never hurt any of them. Whether you believe that is up to you. You're a sweet boy, and I won't think any the less of you if you decide to go home." I turned to leave. "Be good, Chris. If I don't see you again, I won't forget you in a hurry."
As I reached the short flight of steps that led down from the gardens to street level, I couldn't help looking back. Chris had his head down, staring at nothing in particular, his face expressionless. I hadn't the slightest idea what he'd choose to do. Whatever that decision was, I'd soon find out.
****
I got back to the car, glanced at my watch. 2:45. I'll give him till 3:00, I decided. I reclined the seat a couple of notches, leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes. If anyone walked through the car park, they would probably think I was asleep.
I jumped at the sound of a light tap on my window. I'd contrived to actually fall asleep, and it took me a few seconds to remember where I was, and why. I rubbed my eyes quickly, and looked to my right. Chris was standing there, looking serious. I pressed the button to lower the window.
"You OK, Albie?" Chris quickly said.
"Yeah, sorry, I just dozed off. Must be the excitement!"
He laughed, but the nervousness was evident.
"Can we talk a bit, Albie?" His seriousness had returned. "I don't know what to do. I....I've messed around with one or two of my friends, but never with anyone....older. I know you said you didn't mind if I stayed with you or went home, so....is it OK just to talk?"
"Of course, sweetie, whatever you want. Do you want to stay here, or go somewhere more private? I've said I won't hurt you, and I mean that, promise. Do you want to go for a drive?"
He considered. "Yeah, I guess that would be alright. Not too far, though, yeah?"
"You're in charge, Chris. If you think I'm going too far, in any way, you tell me straight away. Come on, jump in. We'll just cruise around a bit, stay near the town, OK?"
Chris nodded, and walked around to the passenger side of the car. He opened the door, stood with the handle in his hand for a second or two, then seemed to make a decision, got in, and settled himself into the seat, clicking the seatbelt in place.
"Ready?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"Let's go, then."
I eased the car out of the car park, and up the hill away from the town centre. I'd already decided where I was going to go, but Chris didn't, initially, catch on. After a couple of minutes, I took a left turn. He turned to look at me, confusedly.
"My school's up here, we're not going there, are we?"
"No, but near there. There's a quiet spot we can stop and talk, as long as the dog walkers haven't got there first."
"Oh."
Instead of turning left towards the main school entrance, I carried straight on, onto a narrow lane, dropping downhill towards the river estuary. A quarter of a mile further on, the lane took a 90° left hand bend, there was a field gate, and a wide verge on the uphill side. A car was pulling away as we passed, so I turned around in the gateway, and parked in the space just vacated. I switched the engine off, and silence fell, within and without the vehicle.
"I've never been down here before," Chris said after a few moments, "there's a good view, isn't there?"
I looked over his shoulder and down to the river below. "Yeah, it's nice here. I used to come here with my wife, for walks and stuff. But then she found out I liked boys, and did a runner. Can't blame her, I suppose."
"How did she find out?"
"Me being careless. I had a few drinks one night, and I was looking at some stuff on the net. Not porno, just eye candy, boys in speedos, that kind of thing. Anyway, I fell asleep with this stuff still on the screen, and she came downstairs to see why I hadn't come to bed. She went apeshit, called me all sorts. There wasn't much I could say, really, she'd caught me red-handed. She packed her bags and went back to her mum and dad's, and that was the end of that. We sold the house, and I managed to scrape enough money together to buy the flat I live in now, near the hospital."
"Why did you get married if you knew you liked boys?"
I smiled wryly. "Very good question, mate! Trying to be like everyone else, I suppose. The world hates boylovers so much, I wanted to prove to myself I wasn't one of those people that everyone hated. The only problem is, however much you pretend to the world, you can't fool yourself, not for very long, anyway. If I'd just been gay, it would've been easier - gays still get a lot of crap, but, more often than not, they can find a way to be themselves these days - but I've never fancied men, ever. I knew I liked boys my own age when I was 12 or 13, and that's never changed. 12, 13, 14 is still my favourite age group. Let me guess - you're 13?"
"Yeah, but you'd have been wrong in a week's time - it's my birthday next Saturday."
I reached over and gently ruffled his silky hair. "Early Happy Birthday from me, Chris. I hope you have a good one!"
He smiled, more relaxed than he'd been at any time since those first minutes in the gardens. "Thanks, Albie." My hand had moved down to his right shoulder, and he made no move to shake it off. "Can we go to yours now? I still don't know if I want to do anything, but I believe what you said about not hurting me."
"I'm glad you know that, Chris. I'm a boylover, not a rapist or molester. I don't, really don't, want to do anything with you, or anyone else for that matter, that you don't want to do. This might sound like bullshit, but if it isn't shared, it isn't fun, from my point of view. I guess there are people out there who get off by dominating or even hurting others, but I'm definitely not one of them." I took his fingertips in my hand, and gave them a gentle squeeze. "Here, at mine, anywhere, you're in charge, sweet boy. Like I said, if I do or say anything you're not happy with, anything at all, I want you to tell me straight away. I promise you I won't be angry or offended. Just say the word, and wherever we are, whatever we're doing, it stops immediately. Will you do that for me?"
Chris smiled again, and nodded. "Yeah, course. I like you, Albie, you've talked more to me in the last hour than my dad has in months. Come on, let's go!"
I gently released his hand, and started the car. Ten minutes later, I was unlocking the door to my first floor flat. The place was small, but comfortable, with views over the rooftops, although not quite down to the river, sadly.
"Sit yourself down, Chris. You want a drink?"
"Could I have a Coke, please?"
"Diet Coke OK? I don't do fat Coke, it's too sweet for me."
He chuckled. "Yeah, Diet's good, thanks."
"Want a glass?"
"Nah, just the tin's good." I took a couple of chilled cans from the fridge, and handed one to the boy.
He'd sat, as I'd hoped, on the sofa, allowing me to sit beside him, although I was careful to give him as much space as I could, not wanting to come across as putting any pressure on him. Rain began to patter against the front window.
"We timed that well, sweetie. Just missed the weather." The heavier cloud cover accentuated the fading of the winter afternoon light. "What time do you have to be home?"
"Dunno, 6-ish, I guess." It was just before 4:00. I weighed my options, and decided to let Chris make the running. We chatted for a few minutes, learning a little more about each other, but it wasn't long before the boy edged our discussion back towards the subject most, if not all, pubescent boys are most interested in.
"Albie....did you do stuff with your friends when you were my age?"
"A little bit, just wanking together on sleepovers, though, nothing that much. Once, when I was 14, I wanked one of my brother's friends off, I really fancied him, but he was a bit too young, only 10 or so, and couldn't keep it a secret. I got in deep shit for that, his dad was going to go to the police. In the end, I just got grounded and had no pocket money for weeks. I was scared fartless, though, I thought I was going to be sent to prison. I stopped doing stuff for years after that, and I've always been mega-careful ever since. You're the first boy I've even talked to this year. That's another reason I'd never hurt anyone, and why I always let the boy take charge - I don't want to upset anyone enough that they'd want to drop me in it."
Chris nodded, thoughtfully. "I've done stuff, like I said, just what you did, mostly. But my cousin and I....we tried....sucking each other."
"Did you like it?"
Chris drew a big breath. "Yeah, it was fantastic, I came in seconds, big style. I liked doing it, too, it felt really nice in my mouth, even when he spurted. He....he said it was too gay, though, and he wouldn't do it again, even though I wasn't spurting. That....that's something else I wanted to ask. I still don't make....spunk....even now. Do you think there's something wrong with me?"
"I very much doubt it - the age you start having wet orgasms - you know that word, I take it -" He nodded. "- varies a lot, it can happen at 10 or 11, but it can just as easily be 14 or 15, too. I started when I was 13½, give or take, but I only made a tiny amount, for months. I was well past 14 before I was producing more than a little dribble. Anyway, once you do start cumming wet, you usually take longer to recover before you can have another one - one of those sleepovers, I came seven times in about two hours, I'm lucky if I manage that in a week now! And it's dead messy, too, so don't be in too much of a rush!"
Chris broke into boyish giggles, making him sound even younger than he was. I draped my arm around his shoulder, and gave him a quick hug.
"That's more like it - you're ten times better looking when you smile, and you're bloody cute to start with!"
As I withdrew my arm, he caught my hand and drew it back towards him.
"Cuddle me again, I like that." He shifted his position, shuffling across until his left hip bone was touching my right, and leaned his head back towards my upper chest as my arm again encircled his shoulders, my fingers coming to rest on the top of his arm, just above the triceps. I breathed in his intoxicating boy aroma, a glorious mixture of clean skin and hair, with a tiny amount of warm, but not in any way unpleasant, sweat smell, some sweet note I couldn't place, maybe a deodorant, and a little fabric conditioner from his clothes. I closed my eyes and savoured the sensory treat, thinking that even if I never got any closer to Chris than I was now, it would still be a memory to cherish. After a minute or two of stillness, I allowed my fingertips to start moving against the fabric of his sleeve, and he sighed, as though unconsciously, and snuggled even closer to me. I brought my left hand across my body, and started lightly stroking his hair, and then his cheek. I felt, as much as saw, his smile, felt the muscles in his face moving. He reached up, gently eased my hand a little lower, and lightly pressed his lips against my fingers, more a nuzzle than a kiss. Now it was my turn to sigh contentedly.
"OK, Albie?" he whispered.
"Oh, yeah. You?"
"Mmmm. Albie?"
"Yeah."
"You know....what we were talking about....just now. About me and my cousin, I mean?"
I hardly dared breathe, such was the sudden surge of anticipation that coursed through me. "Yeah."
"Would....would you mind....doing that to me?"
"No - I'll do stuff with you, not to you. But, yeah, I'd love to make you feel good, if you're sure that's what you want. Only if you're certain, though, because once it's done, it can't be undone."
"I know - I do want to, I really like you, and I think you really like me, too, don't you?"
"Well, for someone I've known for all of about four or five hours - but, yes, Chris, right from when I first saw you in the shop, I thought there was something special about you. Something more than just sex. How or why I felt that, I've no idea, but the feeling was there, all the same. I would never have dared talk to you otherwise, not the way we did."
He grinned, and showed his colours as a typically impulsive teen. "Can we, then, now?"
"This isn't the time to discuss the virtue of patience, I guess!"
Chris groaned. "Don't tease me, you bugger, I'm busting out of my pants!" He grabbed my hand again, and pulled it into his lap. Even with my experience of being with boys, the degree of his hardness was a surprise.
"Bloody hell, Chris, you'll have somebody's eye out with that!" Another gale of his delightful laughter. "Yeah, it looks like you could do with some help there!" I slid to the floor, and turned to kneel in front of him.
I rested my hands on his belt buckle, and looked tenderly into his eyes. He bit his lip, again seeming to accentuate his youth.
"Carry on? Don't be scared to say 'no', if you're not happy."
He nodded, not able to turn his thoughts into words at that moment. A few seconds later, his shoes, shirt and trousers were lying on the floor of my living room, and I was gazing into his eyes again, this time with my thumbs snagged in the waistband of his boxers. His penis was throbbing, visibly, even through the material, in time with his heartbeat. He gulped, noticeably.
"Go on, Albie," he whispered, "I want you to do it, really."
"OK, sweetie, here we go." He lifted his hips, and I eased the underwear down over his thighs, carefully holding the cloth clear of his pounding erection, and then slid the garment down to his feet and off. We both looked at the rigid tube of flesh, long, maybe five inches, but thin, the foreskin fully retracted by the pressure of the blood within, the glans an almost angry, painful looking deep shade of red. As I glanced up at Chris's face, he looked almost as enraptured by what he saw as I was.
"It....it's never been as big and hard as that, ever in my life," he breathed. "Suck me, Albie, please!"
I lowered my head towards the beacon-like head of his erection, parted my lips, and let the hot solidity slide inside. His hips bucked upwards almost instantaneously, and he let out a long, drawn out moan, a mixture of bliss tinged with disappointment.
"Ooohhh, I can't hold on, I'm cumming!"
I sucked, hard, and slid my tongue over his glans and shaft. He squealed, the midsection of his body seemingly totally out of his control as it thrust irregularly at my face, and then I felt his penis jerk and jerk, big, powerful spasms, for long seconds as he writhed and whimpered in ecstasy beneath me. I slowly released the suction, letting him move inside my mouth as much as he was comfortable with as his climax subsided. A few more gentle undulations of his hips, and he came to rest, still almost fully erect against my tongue, and began to catch his breath.
"Oh, Albie!" His voice sounded like tears were close. "Oh, that was the best ever, miles better than when I did it with my cousin, but I wanted it to last longer, I just couldn't stop myself when I went in your mouth."
I released my gentle oral grip on him. "Here's where the advantage of being dry kicks in! You're still hard, and now you've got that big explosion out of your system, we can go again, if you want, and try and make it last longer. A lot longer!"
He looked almost confused for a second or two, then his face slowly brightened, like dawn breaking, until he had a big grin on his face.
"Oh, YEAH!' Chris whooped. "You don't mind?"
"Mind?! You're the sexiest boy I've ever been with! I wish we had all night! One favour, though."
"What's that?"
"Can we go in the bedroom, to give my old knees a break?!"
More giggles, before he held out his hands to me.
"Course! Give me a pull up, I'm still a bit shaky!"
I stood up, gently tugging Chris up with me. I wrapped his young body up in my arms, and kissed his cheek. He smiled dreamily, then put his arms around my neck, and drew me in close, pressing those delicious lips of his against mine. That kiss, our first real kiss, was just a delight, soft, melting, lingering, and totally unexpected. Now I felt the pricking of tears close behind my eyes.
"Chris, that was so lovely," I said as we finally broke the timeless contact. "Thank you so much. Come this way, I want to give you the best orgasm you've ever had - and if I don't, it won't be for the want of trying."
I took his hand, and led him, still apparently in his dream-like state, and still highly aroused with his long, thin penis pointing almost straight up at the ceiling, to my bedroom, not huge, but a fair size in this converted Victorian building, and gently laid him down with his head on the fluffed-up pillows at the head of the queen-size bed.
This time, although Chris was still very excited, the urgency of his need had been blunted by his first orgasm, and I was able to build the feelings in his body gradually, my fingers, lips and tongue sliding and washing over his body, teasing his small nipples, taking his fingers into my mouth and suckling on them sensuously, licking my way down the shallow creases of the 'V' framing his pubis, down past his groin and as far as his sensitive perineum, then back up across his smooth scrotum, carefully rolling his small testicles between my lips, making him squirm with pleasure, before bathing his rock-hard boyhood with broad strokes of the flat of my tongue and finally taking the member into my mouth once again, making love to him orally to the very best of my ability. He was gasping and groaning by this time, trying his utmost to hold back from the brink, and then, once more, losing all control, giving me the delight for the second time of feeling those huge, dry throbs convulsing his body and making his lovely penis dance between my tongue and palate. He shivered and shuddered his way back down to earth, finally getting to the point he could take no more, gently putting his hands on the sides of my head and lifting me off of his body. He slumped back onto the mattress, eyes closed, smiling from ear to ear, totally sated.
He didn't speak for two or three minutes, simply lying back and basking in the afterglow. It was more than enough for me to lie next to him, my head propped on my hand, admiring his gorgeous face and body. At length, he opened his eyes, still smiling, and took my hand in his.
"That was the best, Albie. I didn't just feel it in my dick, it felt like my whole body was cumming. Just amazing!"
I smiled back at him. "I'm glad you liked it, I love it when I can make someone feel so good. That's more exciting, more satisfying to me than getting a big cum myself. I know that might sound a bit weird, but that's how I feel about it. Time's getting on now, sweetie, we need to get you home. No point getting you in trouble."
"My mum and dad will be down at the club until after the football's finished, we've still got half an hour. That's what they always do on a Sunday, have dinner about 2:00, then go out for a drink and watch the match. I used to go with them, but it's pretty boring at the club, so they let me do my own thing now I'm older. As long as I'm home by 6, half 6, it'll be fine."
His face lapsed into seriousness again, as he looked at me. He seemed to be uncertain about something, and I was immediately concerned that, now he'd come back down from his erotic high, it had suddenly struck him that he was vulnerable, naked in the bed of a middle-aged stranger.
"Are you OK, Chris? You look worried. Is everything alright?"
"Can I....ask you something?"
"Of course, sweetie, anything you like."
"Can I....see you undressed? I've never seen a grown-up....with a hard-on, and I want to see what it's like."
My relief was considerable - he hadn't, seemingly, had second thoughts about what we'd done together, but had just been embarrassed to ask to see my body.
"Course you can, Chris, as long as you're not too squeamish, that is - I'm not that pleasant to look at, not like you, you gorgeous beast!" The boy laughed. "And I haven't got that much to write home about between my legs, either - it's only about an inch longer than yours."
"Show me!" The excitement, the impetuosity, had returned to his voice again.
I stood by the bed, and quickly shed my clothes. I wasn't being falsely modest in what I'd told Chris, my body wasn't that prepossessing, I was overweight and not particularly muscular. I'd got to my underwear, the bulge in front clearly illustrating my arousal. Chris looked in that direction, and licked his lips.
"Come on, Albie, get 'em off! I've seen my dad undressed a few times, but I've never seen him hard. It looks good!"
The boy's words massaged my vanity, and I grinned at him as I removed my final piece of clothing. With a sexy, naked boy on my bed, I was as turned on as I'd been for years, so my manhood was at its best.
"Whoa, Albie, I thought you said it wasn't very big! It's bloody huge!"
"It's quite a bit thicker than yours, I suppose, but it isn't that much longer, really. Scoot over here and kneel up, and I'll show you."
Chris, fully erect again, shuffled to the edge of the bed, facing me. With me standing, and him kneeling, our genitals were at the same height. I gently took his penis in my hand, and laid it along the top of mine. He squirmed a little from the contact.
"See? You're going to be bigger than me, pretty soon, probably."
"Mmmm. They feel nice together, Albie, I like that. Hey, I've got an idea!"
"What's that, sweetie?"
"Come and lay on the bed, and I'll get on top. Then we can rub our dicks together. I've never done that before, It'll be great!"
Not wanting to disabuse his sense of having made a brand-new discovery, I kept my thought of 'You bet it will!' to myself. Apart from the feel of a rigid young penis in my mouth, frottage with a smooth, hairless boy, with its seeming acres of silky, skin-to-skin contact, was just about the most erotic thing I could imagine. I wasted no time in putting myself where Chris wanted me. He straddled my thighs. After a bit of fidgeting, and a couple of giggly false starts, he found his rhythm, and the underside of his steely erection slid back and forth against my frenulum, easily the most sensitive spot on my whole body. I stroked his back and sides as he pumped away like he'd been doing it for years, then slipped my hand lower, my fingers sliding into the crease of his buttocks, ever closer to his anus. When I gently touched the magic spot, he moaned his pleasure.
"Oh God, Albie! Do that again!"
His wish was my command, of course. I pressed on his ring of flesh again, a little more firmly, but not with any intention of penetration. The hitherto regular movements of his hips became more erratic, as did his breathing. I left my finger where it was, allowing his own motion to stimulate him. Suddenly, he squeaked in surprise, and his penis bucked against mine as his third orgasm in little more than an hour unexpectedly overtook him. That was more than I could take.
"Chris, I'm cumming! It's gonna be a big mess!"
He rolled off of me just in time, and looked on in open-mouthed awe and delight as I had one of the most powerful orgasms of my life, the first pulse of my semen shooting several inches into the air and splattering my stomach and pubis, then two or three less violent spurts, then, as I brought my hand into play, a couple more dribbles as I milked as much pleasure as I could bear from my body.
"B-l-o-o-d-y hell! Albie, that was unbelievable. I didn't know anyone could cum like that! And when...." He faltered, and looked away for a moment. "....when you touched....my bum hole....well, I didn't know it would feel like that. It just made me cum, out of nowhere. It felt....like I was cumming from right inside my bum, I've never had one like that before!"
I'd caught my breath by then. "Chris, I reckon you'll be cumming wet very soon. What you probably felt was your prostate gland trying to make some semen....spunk, you know. Some men and boys have very sensitive prostates, some can cum without even touching their dicks, if they have their prostate gently rubbed."
"How can you do that, if it's inside?"
"It's right next to the rectum, the part just inside your bum hole. You can put a finger inside, and touch it through the skin. A bit like you can rub the skin on your wrist, say, and feel the bone underneath. It's a few inches inside, though, so you have to have long fingers!"
"Don't your fingers get shitty?"
"Not unless you're just about to have a dump, or just had one - the shit stays further up in your digestive system until you're almost ready to go - it's a bit like an 'airlock' setup, there are two sets of muscles inside. You can clean yourself, anyway, if you are going to do any sex stuff involving your bum, just use soap and water, like cleaning any other part of yourself. You just have to be gentle and careful, because it can hurt a lot if you're too rough, or try and put anything too big in your bum. It's like anything else to do with sex, though - some people like it, some don't. You should only do what you enjoy, and what feels good to you - as long as you're not hurting anyone else to make yourself feel good, of course - it's meant to be fun, after all!"
Chris looked doubtful. "I dunno - it felt really good when you touched me on the outside, but putting fingers inside - it sounds a bit gross!"
"Like I said, if you don't like it, don't do it. It's as simple as that. Shit!" The clock on my bedside table had caught my eye. "Look at the time, Chris, we need to get going!"
It was 5:50, and I didn't even know how far away he lived. We dashed around the flat for the next five minutes, cleaning ourselves up, rounding up our clothes and hurriedly dressing. We scuttled down the back staircase, heading for my parking space behind the house. He told me where he lived, and which club his parents were at, and our town was pretty small, anyway, so I was quickly able to identify a place, less than five minutes' drive away, where I could safely drop him off close to his home. He knew I couldn't deliver him to his front door - we could both imagine, I think, the potential fallout if he was seen by someone he knew, getting out of a strange car.
I pulled into the little car park of the old peoples' day centre, all in darkness on a Sunday evening, of course, from where he was going to make his way home. There was an awkward little silence, as though neither of us quite knew what to say. We unclipped our seatbelts, and I slipped my arm around his shoulder again. He leaned against me.
"Thank you, Chris. It's been great. It's totally up to you, but I'd really like to see you again. We don't have to do any sex stuff if you don't want, just your company would be enough." My voice was starting to betray my emotions, I was nervous and close to tears, not knowing whether, after he got out of my car, I'd ever see him again.
He didn't answer in words, not straight away. He simply turned his face up to mine, and bestowed another of his stunningly lovely kisses on me.
"Next Sunday, Albie, deffo. Before, if I can. I'll text you. It's been so fun. And it's not just sex for me, either. You make me feel like I really am special." He squeezed my left hand between both of his. "See you later!"
I grinned, rather goofily, in my relief. "Later, Chris." As he got out of the car and walked away, turning at the corner, under a street light, to give me a quick wave, I said to myself what I'd only just managed to stop myself saying to the boy a few moments earlier.
'Love you, sweet boy.'
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
****
I caught his eye, just by the bakery aisle. He looked hesitant, just for a moment, but then smiled, as if to himself. I responded in kind, a little secret smile beamed straight into his eyes. He allowed his parents - at least, the couple I presumed were his parents - to walk ahead a few steps, all the while surreptitiously watching me from the corner of his eye. As they disappeared to the left, into the next aisle, he stopped, and allowed me to catch up with him. I stood close, but not too close, and made a show of perusing the chiller cabinet in front of me.
"Seen something you like?" His left eyebrow was arched, suggestively, and he smirked cheekily.
"Yeah, these pasties are pretty good." I nodded towards the display, and failed abjectly to suppress a smirk to match his.
"I'm Cornish, too, you know."
"Yeah, I bet you're just as tasty, as well, and nowhere near as fattening!"
He gasped a little at my forthrightness, but the grin soon reappeared.
"Cheeky bugger!"
"Well - if you don't ask, you'll never know!" I pulled my mobile phone out of my pocket. "Got a number?"
"Yeah." He rattled off the digits, and I entered them into the device.
"I'll text you when I get home - if you want me to, that is."
"Yeah, that'll be cool. Laters!" He quickly decamped around the corner, to rejoin the family group.
****
I was buzzing by the time I got back to the flat. I hadn't had any boy fun for months, well over a year, actually, but as soon as I'd seen him in the supermarket, I just had a feeling that he might be interested. Difficult to say why - I wasn't possessed of anything resembling 'gaydar', and, given the 100% negative attitude towards boylovers that modern society espoused, I was normally ultra-cautious, having no ambition whatever to find myself in jail. Maybe it was his self-possession when he realised I was watching him, the confidence he had in his own attractiveness. Because attractive he certainly was - right on the cusp of puberty, tall and well proportioned, but still thoroughly boyish in appearance, lovely face, straight hair, the lightest shade of brown that couldn't have been called fair, even, white teeth visible when he smiled, and, most noticeably of all, plump, pink lips that seemed to be crying out to be kissed. It would be taking a chance to try and connect with him, but, given his relaxed attitude in the shop, it was a risk worth taking, I thought. I wasn't intending to be reckless, though - I dug my old 'Pay as you Go' mobile, which I always topped up with cash transactions, out of the kitchen drawer, before composing a short, nondescript text message.
*Enjoy your shopping trip? Mine was fun!*
I pressed the 'send' button, and watched the acknowledgement appear on the screen. The ball was in his court now, I thought. I put the phone on the coffee table in the living room, and switched on my laptop, heading, as I usually did when time permitted, for the cyberspace ocean. It wasn't long, though, maybe a quarter of an hour, before the double bleep of my incoming text tone sounded.
*Yeah, gr8! I luv shopping! U out l8r?*
Good boy! He'd got the drift straight away, keep it neutral, don't say anything unequivocal. Make it look like a couple of kids chatting.
*Yeah, probably. Where & when?*
*Bottom of Fore Street. Half 2?*
*No probs. C u there!*
Just about every Cornish town, and quite a few of the villages, had a Fore Street, but I assumed he meant the Fore Street in my town, where the supermarket was. If not, we'd have to sort something else out. My buzz was growing by the minute. This could be something special!
****
The temptation, of course, was for me to arrive twenty minutes early, but common sense prevailed - there was no way I wanted to draw attention to myself by hanging around. I sat in my car in the car park behind the small shopping area until 2:29, then cut through the alleyway linking to Fore Street, crossed the road by the bus stops, quiet on a winter Sunday afternoon, and walked round towards the small gardens by the main road junction. As I'd expected, on this cool, grey December day, the gardens were deserted. With one exception. He grinned.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself, cutie! You've made my day - no, you've made my year!"
"I'm not that good - well, maybe I am! I'm Chris, by the way."
I held my hand out, and we shook briefly. His hand was deliciously smooth and soft. "Albie. You OK to come to mine, or would you rather stay out in the open?"
"It'll be warmer at yours, I bet. As long you're not...." His high, clear voice tailed off. For the first time, he seemed uncertain, even nervous.
"Not what, Chris?"
He flushed, and looked embarrassed. "Not....going to hurt me. Sorry....I hadn't thought about it until now, I don't....don't mean that I think you will....or anything."
I laid my hand gently on his shoulder. "Chris, don't sweat it. You're so sensible to be cautious. I can tell you anything, and there's no way you can know if it's true or not. If you're not happy, I'll just walk away, and never bother you again. Look, I'll tell you what. My car is in the car park at the back of the Co-op. You know where I mean?" He nodded. "It's a silver Peugeot 307. Have a think about things, I'll go and wait in the car for a quarter of an hour or so. If you want, come and meet me there. If you don't, that's no problem at all." I looked him straight in the eye. "I'll tell you this, though - I've been with a few boys, and I promise you I've never hurt any of them. Whether you believe that is up to you. You're a sweet boy, and I won't think any the less of you if you decide to go home." I turned to leave. "Be good, Chris. If I don't see you again, I won't forget you in a hurry."
As I reached the short flight of steps that led down from the gardens to street level, I couldn't help looking back. Chris had his head down, staring at nothing in particular, his face expressionless. I hadn't the slightest idea what he'd choose to do. Whatever that decision was, I'd soon find out.
****
I got back to the car, glanced at my watch. 2:45. I'll give him till 3:00, I decided. I reclined the seat a couple of notches, leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes. If anyone walked through the car park, they would probably think I was asleep.
I jumped at the sound of a light tap on my window. I'd contrived to actually fall asleep, and it took me a few seconds to remember where I was, and why. I rubbed my eyes quickly, and looked to my right. Chris was standing there, looking serious. I pressed the button to lower the window.
"You OK, Albie?" Chris quickly said.
"Yeah, sorry, I just dozed off. Must be the excitement!"
He laughed, but the nervousness was evident.
"Can we talk a bit, Albie?" His seriousness had returned. "I don't know what to do. I....I've messed around with one or two of my friends, but never with anyone....older. I know you said you didn't mind if I stayed with you or went home, so....is it OK just to talk?"
"Of course, sweetie, whatever you want. Do you want to stay here, or go somewhere more private? I've said I won't hurt you, and I mean that, promise. Do you want to go for a drive?"
He considered. "Yeah, I guess that would be alright. Not too far, though, yeah?"
"You're in charge, Chris. If you think I'm going too far, in any way, you tell me straight away. Come on, jump in. We'll just cruise around a bit, stay near the town, OK?"
Chris nodded, and walked around to the passenger side of the car. He opened the door, stood with the handle in his hand for a second or two, then seemed to make a decision, got in, and settled himself into the seat, clicking the seatbelt in place.
"Ready?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"Let's go, then."
I eased the car out of the car park, and up the hill away from the town centre. I'd already decided where I was going to go, but Chris didn't, initially, catch on. After a couple of minutes, I took a left turn. He turned to look at me, confusedly.
"My school's up here, we're not going there, are we?"
"No, but near there. There's a quiet spot we can stop and talk, as long as the dog walkers haven't got there first."
"Oh."
Instead of turning left towards the main school entrance, I carried straight on, onto a narrow lane, dropping downhill towards the river estuary. A quarter of a mile further on, the lane took a 90° left hand bend, there was a field gate, and a wide verge on the uphill side. A car was pulling away as we passed, so I turned around in the gateway, and parked in the space just vacated. I switched the engine off, and silence fell, within and without the vehicle.
"I've never been down here before," Chris said after a few moments, "there's a good view, isn't there?"
I looked over his shoulder and down to the river below. "Yeah, it's nice here. I used to come here with my wife, for walks and stuff. But then she found out I liked boys, and did a runner. Can't blame her, I suppose."
"How did she find out?"
"Me being careless. I had a few drinks one night, and I was looking at some stuff on the net. Not porno, just eye candy, boys in speedos, that kind of thing. Anyway, I fell asleep with this stuff still on the screen, and she came downstairs to see why I hadn't come to bed. She went apeshit, called me all sorts. There wasn't much I could say, really, she'd caught me red-handed. She packed her bags and went back to her mum and dad's, and that was the end of that. We sold the house, and I managed to scrape enough money together to buy the flat I live in now, near the hospital."
"Why did you get married if you knew you liked boys?"
I smiled wryly. "Very good question, mate! Trying to be like everyone else, I suppose. The world hates boylovers so much, I wanted to prove to myself I wasn't one of those people that everyone hated. The only problem is, however much you pretend to the world, you can't fool yourself, not for very long, anyway. If I'd just been gay, it would've been easier - gays still get a lot of crap, but, more often than not, they can find a way to be themselves these days - but I've never fancied men, ever. I knew I liked boys my own age when I was 12 or 13, and that's never changed. 12, 13, 14 is still my favourite age group. Let me guess - you're 13?"
"Yeah, but you'd have been wrong in a week's time - it's my birthday next Saturday."
I reached over and gently ruffled his silky hair. "Early Happy Birthday from me, Chris. I hope you have a good one!"
He smiled, more relaxed than he'd been at any time since those first minutes in the gardens. "Thanks, Albie." My hand had moved down to his right shoulder, and he made no move to shake it off. "Can we go to yours now? I still don't know if I want to do anything, but I believe what you said about not hurting me."
"I'm glad you know that, Chris. I'm a boylover, not a rapist or molester. I don't, really don't, want to do anything with you, or anyone else for that matter, that you don't want to do. This might sound like bullshit, but if it isn't shared, it isn't fun, from my point of view. I guess there are people out there who get off by dominating or even hurting others, but I'm definitely not one of them." I took his fingertips in my hand, and gave them a gentle squeeze. "Here, at mine, anywhere, you're in charge, sweet boy. Like I said, if I do or say anything you're not happy with, anything at all, I want you to tell me straight away. I promise you I won't be angry or offended. Just say the word, and wherever we are, whatever we're doing, it stops immediately. Will you do that for me?"
Chris smiled again, and nodded. "Yeah, course. I like you, Albie, you've talked more to me in the last hour than my dad has in months. Come on, let's go!"
I gently released his hand, and started the car. Ten minutes later, I was unlocking the door to my first floor flat. The place was small, but comfortable, with views over the rooftops, although not quite down to the river, sadly.
"Sit yourself down, Chris. You want a drink?"
"Could I have a Coke, please?"
"Diet Coke OK? I don't do fat Coke, it's too sweet for me."
He chuckled. "Yeah, Diet's good, thanks."
"Want a glass?"
"Nah, just the tin's good." I took a couple of chilled cans from the fridge, and handed one to the boy.
He'd sat, as I'd hoped, on the sofa, allowing me to sit beside him, although I was careful to give him as much space as I could, not wanting to come across as putting any pressure on him. Rain began to patter against the front window.
"We timed that well, sweetie. Just missed the weather." The heavier cloud cover accentuated the fading of the winter afternoon light. "What time do you have to be home?"
"Dunno, 6-ish, I guess." It was just before 4:00. I weighed my options, and decided to let Chris make the running. We chatted for a few minutes, learning a little more about each other, but it wasn't long before the boy edged our discussion back towards the subject most, if not all, pubescent boys are most interested in.
"Albie....did you do stuff with your friends when you were my age?"
"A little bit, just wanking together on sleepovers, though, nothing that much. Once, when I was 14, I wanked one of my brother's friends off, I really fancied him, but he was a bit too young, only 10 or so, and couldn't keep it a secret. I got in deep shit for that, his dad was going to go to the police. In the end, I just got grounded and had no pocket money for weeks. I was scared fartless, though, I thought I was going to be sent to prison. I stopped doing stuff for years after that, and I've always been mega-careful ever since. You're the first boy I've even talked to this year. That's another reason I'd never hurt anyone, and why I always let the boy take charge - I don't want to upset anyone enough that they'd want to drop me in it."
Chris nodded, thoughtfully. "I've done stuff, like I said, just what you did, mostly. But my cousin and I....we tried....sucking each other."
"Did you like it?"
Chris drew a big breath. "Yeah, it was fantastic, I came in seconds, big style. I liked doing it, too, it felt really nice in my mouth, even when he spurted. He....he said it was too gay, though, and he wouldn't do it again, even though I wasn't spurting. That....that's something else I wanted to ask. I still don't make....spunk....even now. Do you think there's something wrong with me?"
"I very much doubt it - the age you start having wet orgasms - you know that word, I take it -" He nodded. "- varies a lot, it can happen at 10 or 11, but it can just as easily be 14 or 15, too. I started when I was 13½, give or take, but I only made a tiny amount, for months. I was well past 14 before I was producing more than a little dribble. Anyway, once you do start cumming wet, you usually take longer to recover before you can have another one - one of those sleepovers, I came seven times in about two hours, I'm lucky if I manage that in a week now! And it's dead messy, too, so don't be in too much of a rush!"
Chris broke into boyish giggles, making him sound even younger than he was. I draped my arm around his shoulder, and gave him a quick hug.
"That's more like it - you're ten times better looking when you smile, and you're bloody cute to start with!"
As I withdrew my arm, he caught my hand and drew it back towards him.
"Cuddle me again, I like that." He shifted his position, shuffling across until his left hip bone was touching my right, and leaned his head back towards my upper chest as my arm again encircled his shoulders, my fingers coming to rest on the top of his arm, just above the triceps. I breathed in his intoxicating boy aroma, a glorious mixture of clean skin and hair, with a tiny amount of warm, but not in any way unpleasant, sweat smell, some sweet note I couldn't place, maybe a deodorant, and a little fabric conditioner from his clothes. I closed my eyes and savoured the sensory treat, thinking that even if I never got any closer to Chris than I was now, it would still be a memory to cherish. After a minute or two of stillness, I allowed my fingertips to start moving against the fabric of his sleeve, and he sighed, as though unconsciously, and snuggled even closer to me. I brought my left hand across my body, and started lightly stroking his hair, and then his cheek. I felt, as much as saw, his smile, felt the muscles in his face moving. He reached up, gently eased my hand a little lower, and lightly pressed his lips against my fingers, more a nuzzle than a kiss. Now it was my turn to sigh contentedly.
"OK, Albie?" he whispered.
"Oh, yeah. You?"
"Mmmm. Albie?"
"Yeah."
"You know....what we were talking about....just now. About me and my cousin, I mean?"
I hardly dared breathe, such was the sudden surge of anticipation that coursed through me. "Yeah."
"Would....would you mind....doing that to me?"
"No - I'll do stuff with you, not to you. But, yeah, I'd love to make you feel good, if you're sure that's what you want. Only if you're certain, though, because once it's done, it can't be undone."
"I know - I do want to, I really like you, and I think you really like me, too, don't you?"
"Well, for someone I've known for all of about four or five hours - but, yes, Chris, right from when I first saw you in the shop, I thought there was something special about you. Something more than just sex. How or why I felt that, I've no idea, but the feeling was there, all the same. I would never have dared talk to you otherwise, not the way we did."
He grinned, and showed his colours as a typically impulsive teen. "Can we, then, now?"
"This isn't the time to discuss the virtue of patience, I guess!"
Chris groaned. "Don't tease me, you bugger, I'm busting out of my pants!" He grabbed my hand again, and pulled it into his lap. Even with my experience of being with boys, the degree of his hardness was a surprise.
"Bloody hell, Chris, you'll have somebody's eye out with that!" Another gale of his delightful laughter. "Yeah, it looks like you could do with some help there!" I slid to the floor, and turned to kneel in front of him.
I rested my hands on his belt buckle, and looked tenderly into his eyes. He bit his lip, again seeming to accentuate his youth.
"Carry on? Don't be scared to say 'no', if you're not happy."
He nodded, not able to turn his thoughts into words at that moment. A few seconds later, his shoes, shirt and trousers were lying on the floor of my living room, and I was gazing into his eyes again, this time with my thumbs snagged in the waistband of his boxers. His penis was throbbing, visibly, even through the material, in time with his heartbeat. He gulped, noticeably.
"Go on, Albie," he whispered, "I want you to do it, really."
"OK, sweetie, here we go." He lifted his hips, and I eased the underwear down over his thighs, carefully holding the cloth clear of his pounding erection, and then slid the garment down to his feet and off. We both looked at the rigid tube of flesh, long, maybe five inches, but thin, the foreskin fully retracted by the pressure of the blood within, the glans an almost angry, painful looking deep shade of red. As I glanced up at Chris's face, he looked almost as enraptured by what he saw as I was.
"It....it's never been as big and hard as that, ever in my life," he breathed. "Suck me, Albie, please!"
I lowered my head towards the beacon-like head of his erection, parted my lips, and let the hot solidity slide inside. His hips bucked upwards almost instantaneously, and he let out a long, drawn out moan, a mixture of bliss tinged with disappointment.
"Ooohhh, I can't hold on, I'm cumming!"
I sucked, hard, and slid my tongue over his glans and shaft. He squealed, the midsection of his body seemingly totally out of his control as it thrust irregularly at my face, and then I felt his penis jerk and jerk, big, powerful spasms, for long seconds as he writhed and whimpered in ecstasy beneath me. I slowly released the suction, letting him move inside my mouth as much as he was comfortable with as his climax subsided. A few more gentle undulations of his hips, and he came to rest, still almost fully erect against my tongue, and began to catch his breath.
"Oh, Albie!" His voice sounded like tears were close. "Oh, that was the best ever, miles better than when I did it with my cousin, but I wanted it to last longer, I just couldn't stop myself when I went in your mouth."
I released my gentle oral grip on him. "Here's where the advantage of being dry kicks in! You're still hard, and now you've got that big explosion out of your system, we can go again, if you want, and try and make it last longer. A lot longer!"
He looked almost confused for a second or two, then his face slowly brightened, like dawn breaking, until he had a big grin on his face.
"Oh, YEAH!' Chris whooped. "You don't mind?"
"Mind?! You're the sexiest boy I've ever been with! I wish we had all night! One favour, though."
"What's that?"
"Can we go in the bedroom, to give my old knees a break?!"
More giggles, before he held out his hands to me.
"Course! Give me a pull up, I'm still a bit shaky!"
I stood up, gently tugging Chris up with me. I wrapped his young body up in my arms, and kissed his cheek. He smiled dreamily, then put his arms around my neck, and drew me in close, pressing those delicious lips of his against mine. That kiss, our first real kiss, was just a delight, soft, melting, lingering, and totally unexpected. Now I felt the pricking of tears close behind my eyes.
"Chris, that was so lovely," I said as we finally broke the timeless contact. "Thank you so much. Come this way, I want to give you the best orgasm you've ever had - and if I don't, it won't be for the want of trying."
I took his hand, and led him, still apparently in his dream-like state, and still highly aroused with his long, thin penis pointing almost straight up at the ceiling, to my bedroom, not huge, but a fair size in this converted Victorian building, and gently laid him down with his head on the fluffed-up pillows at the head of the queen-size bed.
This time, although Chris was still very excited, the urgency of his need had been blunted by his first orgasm, and I was able to build the feelings in his body gradually, my fingers, lips and tongue sliding and washing over his body, teasing his small nipples, taking his fingers into my mouth and suckling on them sensuously, licking my way down the shallow creases of the 'V' framing his pubis, down past his groin and as far as his sensitive perineum, then back up across his smooth scrotum, carefully rolling his small testicles between my lips, making him squirm with pleasure, before bathing his rock-hard boyhood with broad strokes of the flat of my tongue and finally taking the member into my mouth once again, making love to him orally to the very best of my ability. He was gasping and groaning by this time, trying his utmost to hold back from the brink, and then, once more, losing all control, giving me the delight for the second time of feeling those huge, dry throbs convulsing his body and making his lovely penis dance between my tongue and palate. He shivered and shuddered his way back down to earth, finally getting to the point he could take no more, gently putting his hands on the sides of my head and lifting me off of his body. He slumped back onto the mattress, eyes closed, smiling from ear to ear, totally sated.
He didn't speak for two or three minutes, simply lying back and basking in the afterglow. It was more than enough for me to lie next to him, my head propped on my hand, admiring his gorgeous face and body. At length, he opened his eyes, still smiling, and took my hand in his.
"That was the best, Albie. I didn't just feel it in my dick, it felt like my whole body was cumming. Just amazing!"
I smiled back at him. "I'm glad you liked it, I love it when I can make someone feel so good. That's more exciting, more satisfying to me than getting a big cum myself. I know that might sound a bit weird, but that's how I feel about it. Time's getting on now, sweetie, we need to get you home. No point getting you in trouble."
"My mum and dad will be down at the club until after the football's finished, we've still got half an hour. That's what they always do on a Sunday, have dinner about 2:00, then go out for a drink and watch the match. I used to go with them, but it's pretty boring at the club, so they let me do my own thing now I'm older. As long as I'm home by 6, half 6, it'll be fine."
His face lapsed into seriousness again, as he looked at me. He seemed to be uncertain about something, and I was immediately concerned that, now he'd come back down from his erotic high, it had suddenly struck him that he was vulnerable, naked in the bed of a middle-aged stranger.
"Are you OK, Chris? You look worried. Is everything alright?"
"Can I....ask you something?"
"Of course, sweetie, anything you like."
"Can I....see you undressed? I've never seen a grown-up....with a hard-on, and I want to see what it's like."
My relief was considerable - he hadn't, seemingly, had second thoughts about what we'd done together, but had just been embarrassed to ask to see my body.
"Course you can, Chris, as long as you're not too squeamish, that is - I'm not that pleasant to look at, not like you, you gorgeous beast!" The boy laughed. "And I haven't got that much to write home about between my legs, either - it's only about an inch longer than yours."
"Show me!" The excitement, the impetuosity, had returned to his voice again.
I stood by the bed, and quickly shed my clothes. I wasn't being falsely modest in what I'd told Chris, my body wasn't that prepossessing, I was overweight and not particularly muscular. I'd got to my underwear, the bulge in front clearly illustrating my arousal. Chris looked in that direction, and licked his lips.
"Come on, Albie, get 'em off! I've seen my dad undressed a few times, but I've never seen him hard. It looks good!"
The boy's words massaged my vanity, and I grinned at him as I removed my final piece of clothing. With a sexy, naked boy on my bed, I was as turned on as I'd been for years, so my manhood was at its best.
"Whoa, Albie, I thought you said it wasn't very big! It's bloody huge!"
"It's quite a bit thicker than yours, I suppose, but it isn't that much longer, really. Scoot over here and kneel up, and I'll show you."
Chris, fully erect again, shuffled to the edge of the bed, facing me. With me standing, and him kneeling, our genitals were at the same height. I gently took his penis in my hand, and laid it along the top of mine. He squirmed a little from the contact.
"See? You're going to be bigger than me, pretty soon, probably."
"Mmmm. They feel nice together, Albie, I like that. Hey, I've got an idea!"
"What's that, sweetie?"
"Come and lay on the bed, and I'll get on top. Then we can rub our dicks together. I've never done that before, It'll be great!"
Not wanting to disabuse his sense of having made a brand-new discovery, I kept my thought of 'You bet it will!' to myself. Apart from the feel of a rigid young penis in my mouth, frottage with a smooth, hairless boy, with its seeming acres of silky, skin-to-skin contact, was just about the most erotic thing I could imagine. I wasted no time in putting myself where Chris wanted me. He straddled my thighs. After a bit of fidgeting, and a couple of giggly false starts, he found his rhythm, and the underside of his steely erection slid back and forth against my frenulum, easily the most sensitive spot on my whole body. I stroked his back and sides as he pumped away like he'd been doing it for years, then slipped my hand lower, my fingers sliding into the crease of his buttocks, ever closer to his anus. When I gently touched the magic spot, he moaned his pleasure.
"Oh God, Albie! Do that again!"
His wish was my command, of course. I pressed on his ring of flesh again, a little more firmly, but not with any intention of penetration. The hitherto regular movements of his hips became more erratic, as did his breathing. I left my finger where it was, allowing his own motion to stimulate him. Suddenly, he squeaked in surprise, and his penis bucked against mine as his third orgasm in little more than an hour unexpectedly overtook him. That was more than I could take.
"Chris, I'm cumming! It's gonna be a big mess!"
He rolled off of me just in time, and looked on in open-mouthed awe and delight as I had one of the most powerful orgasms of my life, the first pulse of my semen shooting several inches into the air and splattering my stomach and pubis, then two or three less violent spurts, then, as I brought my hand into play, a couple more dribbles as I milked as much pleasure as I could bear from my body.
"B-l-o-o-d-y hell! Albie, that was unbelievable. I didn't know anyone could cum like that! And when...." He faltered, and looked away for a moment. "....when you touched....my bum hole....well, I didn't know it would feel like that. It just made me cum, out of nowhere. It felt....like I was cumming from right inside my bum, I've never had one like that before!"
I'd caught my breath by then. "Chris, I reckon you'll be cumming wet very soon. What you probably felt was your prostate gland trying to make some semen....spunk, you know. Some men and boys have very sensitive prostates, some can cum without even touching their dicks, if they have their prostate gently rubbed."
"How can you do that, if it's inside?"
"It's right next to the rectum, the part just inside your bum hole. You can put a finger inside, and touch it through the skin. A bit like you can rub the skin on your wrist, say, and feel the bone underneath. It's a few inches inside, though, so you have to have long fingers!"
"Don't your fingers get shitty?"
"Not unless you're just about to have a dump, or just had one - the shit stays further up in your digestive system until you're almost ready to go - it's a bit like an 'airlock' setup, there are two sets of muscles inside. You can clean yourself, anyway, if you are going to do any sex stuff involving your bum, just use soap and water, like cleaning any other part of yourself. You just have to be gentle and careful, because it can hurt a lot if you're too rough, or try and put anything too big in your bum. It's like anything else to do with sex, though - some people like it, some don't. You should only do what you enjoy, and what feels good to you - as long as you're not hurting anyone else to make yourself feel good, of course - it's meant to be fun, after all!"
Chris looked doubtful. "I dunno - it felt really good when you touched me on the outside, but putting fingers inside - it sounds a bit gross!"
"Like I said, if you don't like it, don't do it. It's as simple as that. Shit!" The clock on my bedside table had caught my eye. "Look at the time, Chris, we need to get going!"
It was 5:50, and I didn't even know how far away he lived. We dashed around the flat for the next five minutes, cleaning ourselves up, rounding up our clothes and hurriedly dressing. We scuttled down the back staircase, heading for my parking space behind the house. He told me where he lived, and which club his parents were at, and our town was pretty small, anyway, so I was quickly able to identify a place, less than five minutes' drive away, where I could safely drop him off close to his home. He knew I couldn't deliver him to his front door - we could both imagine, I think, the potential fallout if he was seen by someone he knew, getting out of a strange car.
I pulled into the little car park of the old peoples' day centre, all in darkness on a Sunday evening, of course, from where he was going to make his way home. There was an awkward little silence, as though neither of us quite knew what to say. We unclipped our seatbelts, and I slipped my arm around his shoulder again. He leaned against me.
"Thank you, Chris. It's been great. It's totally up to you, but I'd really like to see you again. We don't have to do any sex stuff if you don't want, just your company would be enough." My voice was starting to betray my emotions, I was nervous and close to tears, not knowing whether, after he got out of my car, I'd ever see him again.
He didn't answer in words, not straight away. He simply turned his face up to mine, and bestowed another of his stunningly lovely kisses on me.
"Next Sunday, Albie, deffo. Before, if I can. I'll text you. It's been so fun. And it's not just sex for me, either. You make me feel like I really am special." He squeezed my left hand between both of his. "See you later!"
I grinned, rather goofily, in my relief. "Later, Chris." As he got out of the car and walked away, turning at the corner, under a street light, to give me a quick wave, I said to myself what I'd only just managed to stop myself saying to the boy a few moments earlier.
'Love you, sweet boy.'
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Saturday, 19 November 2011
Dichotomy
Looking towards a window, lit from within, bright rays penetrating the darkness of the winter's night. But what does it mean to me? What should be a beacon, illuminating and elucidating, merely reinforces what lies on my side of the divide, lies, deceit, frustration, unfulfillment. The knowledge that who I am, what I want, is beyond any possibility of acceptance, ever.
If you knew what was in my heart, all I could expect would be disgust.
If she knew what was in my heart, all I could expect would be disgust.
If the world knew, that same disgust.
Drowning in a sea of rejection, no hope of reprieve.
If you knew what was in my heart, all I could expect would be disgust.
If she knew what was in my heart, all I could expect would be disgust.
If the world knew, that same disgust.
Drowning in a sea of rejection, no hope of reprieve.
What I most need || What is available
Irreconcilable
Like the light
I am just going out
I may be some time
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Tuesday, 18 October 2011
Nostalgia
Author's note - This story contains sexual contact between a teenage boy and his younger cousin. If you're likely to be offended, please don't read.
****
The man laid on his bed, in a near-dark room, just a muted glow from the streetlights outside through the drawn curtains on this autumn Sunday evening mitigating the gloom. In his head, visions of another, far-off, rainy Sunday, so many years before.
****
One kiss, then another, and another. Soft and melting, gentle and so erotic, the light touch translating straight into shivers and shudders, and arousal like never before. Although he was little more than a boy himself, his partner seemed so much younger, but so experienced, too, how could he be otherwise, how could he just know, it couldn't simply be instinct that made his touch so excruciatingly blissful. But that was too much, too much thinking, what did he care how Ben knew how to make him feel so delicious, just with the bare contact of lips against lips, all he should do was to savour the feelings. They inhaled each other, Ben's breath tasting faintly of orange juice, how could he know what Ben thought he tasted of, hopefully nothing unpleasant, but that was too much thinking, too, Ben wouldn't be so close if he didn't want to be, there was no coercion going on here, even with their five year age gap, his young cousin had instigated their contact, he'd come to the bedroom, and, without much preamble, had wrapped himself around the young man, saying almost nothing beyond a perfunctory 'Let's do it!', how did he know I wanted him, I always tried to keep it a secret, I love him to bits, but I never want to hurt him, how could he know? Questions rushing through his head, bunching up and knocking each other down like dominoes, all that was left was the thought of 'too much, too much, just let it happen'. And it kept on happening, Ben's hand slid between them and squeezed the engorged flesh he found there.
"Wow, you've got a big one! I wanna see it, now!"
And he made good his wish, unbuckling the belt, unfastening the button, undoing the zip, uncovering his prize. Stroking, teasing, feeling. The owner of the member gasping, desperately trying not to lose control, not to do anything to frighten his young darling, but almost as desperate to dissolve into ecstasy.
"Ben, Ben, sweetie, slow down, I'll cum if you don't!"
A quizzical look crossed the boy's face. He paused his explorations, as though considering his next move.
"Cum? You mean like make sperms?"
"Yeah." A breathy whisper, no more.
"Cool! I really wanna see that!" The slim fingers began sliding again, and the young man was almost immediately on the verge of orgasm, just keeping the inevitable at bay long enough to lift his shirt towards his collarbone, Ben taking his cue and pointing the throbbing tube of masculinity at its owner's stomach just in time, as the first spasm of joy spat almost painfully through the teen's body, making him groan and depositing a thick glob of semen just below his breast bone. Undeterred by the first fruits of his labours, Ben continued his ministrations, eliciting two more strong spurts from his cousin's body, and a handful of further twitches and oozings, dribbling over his own hand, until the older boy had to intervene.
"Too much, darling, too much, it's too sensitive now." The younger boy pouted. "Hey, hey, you haven't done anything wrong, sweetie, it's just the way it is. It's just so nice, you can't bear it anymore. Oh, Ben, that was the best feeling I've ever, ever had. I love you so much. I've loved you for years and years, I've just been too afraid to say it until now."
The boy looked stunned, wide-eyed, as though this was the last thing he expected.
"R....really? You really love me? And I really made you feel good?"
"Yes, and yes! And guess what?"
"What?"
"It's your turn now. I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel."
"I can't....I can't....cum....I've tried, lots, but it won't happen. It feels nice, sometimes, but then I just feel like I'm going to pee. I'm not grown up enough to do it."
"How about you just lie back and relax, and whatever happens, happens. If you pee, so what? We'll just clean you up. Talking of which, give me your hand, and I'll clean me off of you."
"How?"
"Ssshhh. Hand?"
The boy tentatively held out his hand, and the young man gently, lovingly, used his tongue to wipe away the dribbles of ejaculate from the silky skin. Ben giggled, then looked slightly shocked.
"Where did that go?"
"I swallowed it."
Ben's eyes resembled a startled bush baby.
"Swallowed it? You can't do that! Can you?"
"I just did! You watched me. It's not too bad, but not everyone likes it. It's definitely got a unique taste."
Ben gingerly dabbed his index finger into one of the gooey streaks on the teen's stomach, sniffed at the sticky stuff he'd collected, then, as sensuously as the older boy could have imagined, swiped his tongue across his fingertip. Ben's nose wrinkled for a moment, but then he smiled slightly.
"Yeah, not bad - doesn't taste of that much, really, A bit salty."
The older boy grabbed a towel from the radiator next to his bed, and cleaned himself off.
"Like I said, sweetie, it's your turn now. Lie down here." He guided his young cousin onto his back on the single bed, and knelt on the floor beside him. There was a small, but obvious bulge in the front of the tracksuit bottoms Ben was wearing. The teen reached out and gently ran his hand over the area, feeling the rigid inches of boyhood under his palm. Ben trembled a little, and the older boy took his hand away.
"Are you OK, Ben? You don't have to anything you don't want to, you know that, don't you?"
The youngster drew in a shuddering breath before answering, seemingly nervously.
"I....I do want to....but...." His voice tailed off.
"What, sweetie?"
"Well....mine's only tiny, compared to yours....you might....laugh."
The teen scooped the younger boy into his arms, kissed him and hugged him tightly.
"Ben, darling, I'd never laugh at you like that, I love you, really love you. You've got a lot of growing up to do yet, I've done most of mine. I was just the same as you, a few years ago. It's totally up to you, though, if you want to stop now, just say so."
The boy shook his head, decisively. "I don't want you to stop. I love you too." He laid back on the bed, and lifted his hips slightly, inviting the older boy to undress him. Within seconds, Ben's small but very stiff penis was in full view.
"Ben, that's beautiful. Perfect, like the rest of you." The boy giggled, "Can I touch it, please?"
Ben nodded, then shuddered as his cousin's fingers began gently stroking his swollen flesh, The pleasure of another touching his most intimate place for the first time soon took hold, and his eyes closed and mouth opened involuntarily, leaving him looking completely enraptured. The soft, but insistent caresses continued to build the feelings within Ben's young body, taking him quickly to the point he'd reached through his own experimentation, and panicky thoughts flitted through his head, causing his eyes to snap open.
"Oh....oh, something's happening....I'm gonna....pee. Oh!"
"You won't pee, darling, let it happen."
The young boy whimpered aloud as things he had never felt before began to take him over. A lovely, itchy, tickly sensation seemed to rush from somewhere deep inside his body, before concentrating itself in the two inches of almost painfully aroused flesh between his cousin's fingers, then all control was gone, as Ben's first ever orgasm made his penis jump and buck, trying hard to expel something his body wasn't yet ready to make. Little soft squeals came unbidden from his lips as the spasms continued, seven or eight strong, delightful pulses, then a few weaker twitches, then one last powerful throb as his cousin gently squeezed the hard flesh.
"Ooohhh.....oh wow! What was that?"
"You just had a cum, sweetie, but a dry cum, 'cos you're not quite old enough to make sperm yet. You will soon, though, in a year or two, probably. Did you like it?"
Ben sighed, deeply. "It was....fantastic! When can we do it again?"
The teen chuckled. "I was like that, too, when I first started cumming, wanting another one straight away. I still am, really! We'll do it again, soon, I promise, but I don't want to make you sore - that's no fun at all. Oh Ben, I just love you so much, you're the best." There were tears in the older boy's eyes, almost on the point of being shed.
"You're the best, too! Can I....ask you something?"
"Course you can, anything you like."
"Can....can you be my...." Ben swallowed nervously. "My....boyfriend?"
Ben looked up at his cousin's face, and saw the tears streaming down the young man's cheeks.
"Oh, Ben....of course I can, darling, there's nothing that would make me happier, if that's what you want."
"I love you, Johnny. I want to be with you forever."
No more words were necessary, the two boys, teen and pre-teen, just melted together in an embrace of mutual love.
****
The man's reverie was broken by the sound of the front door being unlocked, and then heard footsteps on the stairs, and outside the bedroom door. The door was opened, quietly, and a head popped into view.
"What are you doing here, lying in the dark?" There was laughter close behind the words.
"Oh, just reminiscing. About another Sunday, long ago and far away."
"That Sunday, I bet!"
"Of course, what else?! I tell you what, though."
"What?"
"I still love you just as much as I did that day, Ben."
"You old softie! You know what though - I love you just as much, too!"
"You said 'forever' that day. Forever's a long time, sweetie, but not long enough, as far as I'm concerned."
And just like that far off day, all had been said. Ben and Johnny simply wrapped each other up in love, again.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
****
The man laid on his bed, in a near-dark room, just a muted glow from the streetlights outside through the drawn curtains on this autumn Sunday evening mitigating the gloom. In his head, visions of another, far-off, rainy Sunday, so many years before.
****
One kiss, then another, and another. Soft and melting, gentle and so erotic, the light touch translating straight into shivers and shudders, and arousal like never before. Although he was little more than a boy himself, his partner seemed so much younger, but so experienced, too, how could he be otherwise, how could he just know, it couldn't simply be instinct that made his touch so excruciatingly blissful. But that was too much, too much thinking, what did he care how Ben knew how to make him feel so delicious, just with the bare contact of lips against lips, all he should do was to savour the feelings. They inhaled each other, Ben's breath tasting faintly of orange juice, how could he know what Ben thought he tasted of, hopefully nothing unpleasant, but that was too much thinking, too, Ben wouldn't be so close if he didn't want to be, there was no coercion going on here, even with their five year age gap, his young cousin had instigated their contact, he'd come to the bedroom, and, without much preamble, had wrapped himself around the young man, saying almost nothing beyond a perfunctory 'Let's do it!', how did he know I wanted him, I always tried to keep it a secret, I love him to bits, but I never want to hurt him, how could he know? Questions rushing through his head, bunching up and knocking each other down like dominoes, all that was left was the thought of 'too much, too much, just let it happen'. And it kept on happening, Ben's hand slid between them and squeezed the engorged flesh he found there.
"Wow, you've got a big one! I wanna see it, now!"
And he made good his wish, unbuckling the belt, unfastening the button, undoing the zip, uncovering his prize. Stroking, teasing, feeling. The owner of the member gasping, desperately trying not to lose control, not to do anything to frighten his young darling, but almost as desperate to dissolve into ecstasy.
"Ben, Ben, sweetie, slow down, I'll cum if you don't!"
A quizzical look crossed the boy's face. He paused his explorations, as though considering his next move.
"Cum? You mean like make sperms?"
"Yeah." A breathy whisper, no more.
"Cool! I really wanna see that!" The slim fingers began sliding again, and the young man was almost immediately on the verge of orgasm, just keeping the inevitable at bay long enough to lift his shirt towards his collarbone, Ben taking his cue and pointing the throbbing tube of masculinity at its owner's stomach just in time, as the first spasm of joy spat almost painfully through the teen's body, making him groan and depositing a thick glob of semen just below his breast bone. Undeterred by the first fruits of his labours, Ben continued his ministrations, eliciting two more strong spurts from his cousin's body, and a handful of further twitches and oozings, dribbling over his own hand, until the older boy had to intervene.
"Too much, darling, too much, it's too sensitive now." The younger boy pouted. "Hey, hey, you haven't done anything wrong, sweetie, it's just the way it is. It's just so nice, you can't bear it anymore. Oh, Ben, that was the best feeling I've ever, ever had. I love you so much. I've loved you for years and years, I've just been too afraid to say it until now."
The boy looked stunned, wide-eyed, as though this was the last thing he expected.
"R....really? You really love me? And I really made you feel good?"
"Yes, and yes! And guess what?"
"What?"
"It's your turn now. I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel."
"I can't....I can't....cum....I've tried, lots, but it won't happen. It feels nice, sometimes, but then I just feel like I'm going to pee. I'm not grown up enough to do it."
"How about you just lie back and relax, and whatever happens, happens. If you pee, so what? We'll just clean you up. Talking of which, give me your hand, and I'll clean me off of you."
"How?"
"Ssshhh. Hand?"
The boy tentatively held out his hand, and the young man gently, lovingly, used his tongue to wipe away the dribbles of ejaculate from the silky skin. Ben giggled, then looked slightly shocked.
"Where did that go?"
"I swallowed it."
Ben's eyes resembled a startled bush baby.
"Swallowed it? You can't do that! Can you?"
"I just did! You watched me. It's not too bad, but not everyone likes it. It's definitely got a unique taste."
Ben gingerly dabbed his index finger into one of the gooey streaks on the teen's stomach, sniffed at the sticky stuff he'd collected, then, as sensuously as the older boy could have imagined, swiped his tongue across his fingertip. Ben's nose wrinkled for a moment, but then he smiled slightly.
"Yeah, not bad - doesn't taste of that much, really, A bit salty."
The older boy grabbed a towel from the radiator next to his bed, and cleaned himself off.
"Like I said, sweetie, it's your turn now. Lie down here." He guided his young cousin onto his back on the single bed, and knelt on the floor beside him. There was a small, but obvious bulge in the front of the tracksuit bottoms Ben was wearing. The teen reached out and gently ran his hand over the area, feeling the rigid inches of boyhood under his palm. Ben trembled a little, and the older boy took his hand away.
"Are you OK, Ben? You don't have to anything you don't want to, you know that, don't you?"
The youngster drew in a shuddering breath before answering, seemingly nervously.
"I....I do want to....but...." His voice tailed off.
"What, sweetie?"
"Well....mine's only tiny, compared to yours....you might....laugh."
The teen scooped the younger boy into his arms, kissed him and hugged him tightly.
"Ben, darling, I'd never laugh at you like that, I love you, really love you. You've got a lot of growing up to do yet, I've done most of mine. I was just the same as you, a few years ago. It's totally up to you, though, if you want to stop now, just say so."
The boy shook his head, decisively. "I don't want you to stop. I love you too." He laid back on the bed, and lifted his hips slightly, inviting the older boy to undress him. Within seconds, Ben's small but very stiff penis was in full view.
"Ben, that's beautiful. Perfect, like the rest of you." The boy giggled, "Can I touch it, please?"
Ben nodded, then shuddered as his cousin's fingers began gently stroking his swollen flesh, The pleasure of another touching his most intimate place for the first time soon took hold, and his eyes closed and mouth opened involuntarily, leaving him looking completely enraptured. The soft, but insistent caresses continued to build the feelings within Ben's young body, taking him quickly to the point he'd reached through his own experimentation, and panicky thoughts flitted through his head, causing his eyes to snap open.
"Oh....oh, something's happening....I'm gonna....pee. Oh!"
"You won't pee, darling, let it happen."
The young boy whimpered aloud as things he had never felt before began to take him over. A lovely, itchy, tickly sensation seemed to rush from somewhere deep inside his body, before concentrating itself in the two inches of almost painfully aroused flesh between his cousin's fingers, then all control was gone, as Ben's first ever orgasm made his penis jump and buck, trying hard to expel something his body wasn't yet ready to make. Little soft squeals came unbidden from his lips as the spasms continued, seven or eight strong, delightful pulses, then a few weaker twitches, then one last powerful throb as his cousin gently squeezed the hard flesh.
"Ooohhh.....oh wow! What was that?"
"You just had a cum, sweetie, but a dry cum, 'cos you're not quite old enough to make sperm yet. You will soon, though, in a year or two, probably. Did you like it?"
Ben sighed, deeply. "It was....fantastic! When can we do it again?"
The teen chuckled. "I was like that, too, when I first started cumming, wanting another one straight away. I still am, really! We'll do it again, soon, I promise, but I don't want to make you sore - that's no fun at all. Oh Ben, I just love you so much, you're the best." There were tears in the older boy's eyes, almost on the point of being shed.
"You're the best, too! Can I....ask you something?"
"Course you can, anything you like."
"Can....can you be my...." Ben swallowed nervously. "My....boyfriend?"
Ben looked up at his cousin's face, and saw the tears streaming down the young man's cheeks.
"Oh, Ben....of course I can, darling, there's nothing that would make me happier, if that's what you want."
"I love you, Johnny. I want to be with you forever."
No more words were necessary, the two boys, teen and pre-teen, just melted together in an embrace of mutual love.
****
The man's reverie was broken by the sound of the front door being unlocked, and then heard footsteps on the stairs, and outside the bedroom door. The door was opened, quietly, and a head popped into view.
"What are you doing here, lying in the dark?" There was laughter close behind the words.
"Oh, just reminiscing. About another Sunday, long ago and far away."
"That Sunday, I bet!"
"Of course, what else?! I tell you what, though."
"What?"
"I still love you just as much as I did that day, Ben."
"You old softie! You know what though - I love you just as much, too!"
"You said 'forever' that day. Forever's a long time, sweetie, but not long enough, as far as I'm concerned."
And just like that far off day, all had been said. Ben and Johnny simply wrapped each other up in love, again.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Friday, 7 October 2011
Banished
I am who I am, no-one else can I be
No hiding the wanting, the needing in me
It's there like a banner, the world for to see
The only solution, complete honesty
But truth, so it seems, to my utter dismay
Is no more rewarded than games others play
Real words from the heart that I've chosen to say
It ends, oh, what heartache, with me pushed away
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
No hiding the wanting, the needing in me
It's there like a banner, the world for to see
The only solution, complete honesty
But truth, so it seems, to my utter dismay
Is no more rewarded than games others play
Real words from the heart that I've chosen to say
It ends, oh, what heartache, with me pushed away
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Escapology
I want to run and hide
From the sea of troubles
Whose tide floods towards me
On every side
But where can you go to
That's far flung enough
To escape from yourself
And the hurting inside
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
From the sea of troubles
Whose tide floods towards me
On every side
But where can you go to
That's far flung enough
To escape from yourself
And the hurting inside
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Wednesday, 5 October 2011
Cure
"He's an intractable case, one of the worst I've come across. Every regular technique we have at our disposal has failed to make any impact."
"Where do we go from here, then, Sir? Those who sent him here are expecting us to succeed, as we always have in the past. It doesn't seem as though he wants to recover. How can we convince him?"
"He doesn't seem to think he has anything to recover from, that's the main problem in my view. Our usual aversion therapy didn't move him, because he found it too contrived, his suspension of disbelief was absent. And he's right, in a way, of course. Ethically, we could never actually use genuine footage of the activities depicted, and he was acute enough to realise that. He simply said he knew it was staged and false, and that he, personally, would never think of doing any such thing, in any case."
"If he's telling the truth, his truth, it could be impossible, you know. We might never overcome his delusions, we might....fail."
"Nonsense! There's always a way, always an intervention that will have the desired effect. We need to think creatively, that's all. What about the victim? How can we bring him into play?"
"He appears to be no more amenable than our inmate. He has been interviewed several times by our best people, and he absolutely refuses to believe that he is a victim, of the inmate, at least. He says the only bad things that have happened to him have been since his 'best friend' was taken away. His dearest wish, it seems, is for them to be reunited."
"That's the aspect of this case that upsets me the most. A vulnerable young mind, brainwashed, convinced that black is white. And it's why we must not fail. Both must be cured, made to fit the pattern."
"But made something they're not, Sir? Is that ethical in itself?"
The older man looked at his subordinate in disbelief, turning to anger.
"You young fool, what have ethics to do with anything? If we allow this....this....degenerate to succeed in spreading his poison, where will it end? Society is all that matters, if the individual will not conform, he must be....removed."
Now it was the younger man's turn to look disbelievingly at the elder, the man who he'd looked up to as a role model for the past five years, who now seemed as though a mask he had been wearing had slipped away, revealing a totally different person beneath. Something else had changed, too, in the younger man's mind. He hesitated for long moments, but decided that his thoughts needed to be enunciated.
"Conformity? Removal? That sounds rather fascistic to me, I'm afraid. At the end of the day, these two say they love each other. Neither appears in any way to have coerced the other. We have no evidence, ultimately, that any physical activity has taken place, as both deny it and there is no independent witness. This man appears to me to have been incarcerated simply for falling in love. Love is hardly the force that is going to destroy the foundations of civilisation, surely?"
The older man seemed to have regained control of himself, somewhat.
"He has been sent to us to be cured, and that is what will happen. By whatever means. Given that, as I said, every regular technique has failed, it seems to me that only one alternative remains. I will authorise Procedure 199."
"199! That has never been enacted here! I'll have no part of it, if that's your decision. You'll find my letter of resignation on your desk before the end of the day."
"If you feel that strongly, your resignation is hereby accepted. I'm disappointed, I had high hopes for you here, perhaps even saw you as my eventual successor. But, here as elsewhere, the institution is bigger than any individual."
The young man turned on his heel and left without another word. His now former superior sighed, before calling his secretary and requesting the paperwork to set Procedure 199 in motion. Glancing at the clock, he knew he could have the authority, countersigned by the Minister of Justice, in hand before the end of the working day. And then, tomorrow, his institution's 100% record would be maintained. No-one had ever left these walls uncured. And if this mere boylover thought he was going to be the exception, he was much mistaken.
****
"Where do we go from here, then, Sir? Those who sent him here are expecting us to succeed, as we always have in the past. It doesn't seem as though he wants to recover. How can we convince him?"
"He doesn't seem to think he has anything to recover from, that's the main problem in my view. Our usual aversion therapy didn't move him, because he found it too contrived, his suspension of disbelief was absent. And he's right, in a way, of course. Ethically, we could never actually use genuine footage of the activities depicted, and he was acute enough to realise that. He simply said he knew it was staged and false, and that he, personally, would never think of doing any such thing, in any case."
"If he's telling the truth, his truth, it could be impossible, you know. We might never overcome his delusions, we might....fail."
"Nonsense! There's always a way, always an intervention that will have the desired effect. We need to think creatively, that's all. What about the victim? How can we bring him into play?"
"He appears to be no more amenable than our inmate. He has been interviewed several times by our best people, and he absolutely refuses to believe that he is a victim, of the inmate, at least. He says the only bad things that have happened to him have been since his 'best friend' was taken away. His dearest wish, it seems, is for them to be reunited."
"That's the aspect of this case that upsets me the most. A vulnerable young mind, brainwashed, convinced that black is white. And it's why we must not fail. Both must be cured, made to fit the pattern."
"But made something they're not, Sir? Is that ethical in itself?"
The older man looked at his subordinate in disbelief, turning to anger.
"You young fool, what have ethics to do with anything? If we allow this....this....degenerate to succeed in spreading his poison, where will it end? Society is all that matters, if the individual will not conform, he must be....removed."
Now it was the younger man's turn to look disbelievingly at the elder, the man who he'd looked up to as a role model for the past five years, who now seemed as though a mask he had been wearing had slipped away, revealing a totally different person beneath. Something else had changed, too, in the younger man's mind. He hesitated for long moments, but decided that his thoughts needed to be enunciated.
"Conformity? Removal? That sounds rather fascistic to me, I'm afraid. At the end of the day, these two say they love each other. Neither appears in any way to have coerced the other. We have no evidence, ultimately, that any physical activity has taken place, as both deny it and there is no independent witness. This man appears to me to have been incarcerated simply for falling in love. Love is hardly the force that is going to destroy the foundations of civilisation, surely?"
The older man seemed to have regained control of himself, somewhat.
"He has been sent to us to be cured, and that is what will happen. By whatever means. Given that, as I said, every regular technique has failed, it seems to me that only one alternative remains. I will authorise Procedure 199."
"199! That has never been enacted here! I'll have no part of it, if that's your decision. You'll find my letter of resignation on your desk before the end of the day."
"If you feel that strongly, your resignation is hereby accepted. I'm disappointed, I had high hopes for you here, perhaps even saw you as my eventual successor. But, here as elsewhere, the institution is bigger than any individual."
The young man turned on his heel and left without another word. His now former superior sighed, before calling his secretary and requesting the paperwork to set Procedure 199 in motion. Glancing at the clock, he knew he could have the authority, countersigned by the Minister of Justice, in hand before the end of the working day. And then, tomorrow, his institution's 100% record would be maintained. No-one had ever left these walls uncured. And if this mere boylover thought he was going to be the exception, he was much mistaken.
****
In accordance with Procedure 199 of the penal code,
Mr *** ***** was administered a lethal injection at 0800 today.
He was pronounced dead at 0802.
The boy, sitting in his room, stared at the computer screen, uncomprehending for a moment, before the meaning of the words on the official government website sank into his conscious mind. He broke into wretched, inconsolable tears. He was never told that the man's last words were 'I love you so much, darling boy'. Even that comfort was denied him. But conformity, perfection, had been maintained.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Sunday, 2 October 2011
Initiate
Author's note - This story has sexual content, involving a boy below the age of consent. Please don't read if you're likely to be offended.
****
It starts with questions.
"Would you? I want to know, want to feel, will you help me to find out?"
"Could I? I'd love to, but are you sure it's what you really want?"
No hesitation, you know the answer to both of those questions. Your voice seems almost beyond your command, though, so that when you do speak, it's in a breathless rush, your words uncharacteristically sibilant.
"Yes, oh yes, please!"
Two pairs of eyes meet, and the unspoken answer concurs with the spoken. Nothing more needs to be said. Gentle hands guide you, tender fingers unshroud your mystery. A journey has begun, from inchoate longing towards shimmering reality. You've heard about, read about the destination, but have never managed to find the right path. Now you have a caring guide, willing and able to show you the way, at your own pace, ready at any moment to turn back if you find it too much, wanting only the best for you, wanting to make it an experience for you to treasure, forever.
"Are you OK? Tell me, please, if you're not, anytime. Just say the word. You're in charge."
You nod, not wishing to break the spell by speaking, and let your eyelids droop as swirling patterns of pleasure are drawn across your body, like invisible Polynesian tattoos. Your lips part a fraction, just enough to show glimmers of white as your teeth catch the light, making you look hungry for more. The ball of a thumb grazes your nipple, and you gasp at the sensation, never having suspected such feelings could be elicited from such a tiny nub of flesh. Fingertips trace a path lower down, caressing and teasing the silk of your skin, you lick your lips instinctively as the insistent touch sends shivers and sparks coursing through your nervous system, racing around from head to toe before finding their way to the rapturous focal point, pulsing with your quickening heartbeat, aching with anticipation. The meandering fingers have by now reached your inner thighs, and you hold your breath, seemingly for ever, as they edge ever closer to what you hope, so desperately, are their target. Then a new feeling, palms of hands so carefully lifting and parting your legs, tipping you backwards a little so you rest on your coccyx, before the fingers return, now softly, so softly, exploring the orbs, the size and shape of large olives, in your smooth sac, then lower still, tracing the path of your perineum, back and forth three or four times, making you shudder and tremble, making you want to divert those hands to the centre of it all, the steely nexus of desire standing tall, proudly displaying your nascent masculinity.
"Please!" Your urgent whisper, you've been so patient, but can be patient no longer.
Calmly, unhurriedly, your legs are lowered, but still apart. It's so close now, you can feel the warm breath bathing you, you close your eyes and then it's there, like an electric shock in slow motion, as you're drawn so smoothly, so sweetly, into a hot and humid cavern. Lips and tongue speaking silent words of love and wonder, building an edifice of delight, taking you to places that you could never have dreamed of, climbing higher and higher, feeling better and better, so that you never want the ascent to end, but the event horizon is rushing inexorably towards you, the lip of the waterfall inescapable, you try and try to hold yourself back, to remain on that plateau of ecstasy just a moment longer, but it's impossible, the singularity will not be denied. And then you hear, as much as feel, the glorious moment arrive, as a groan, disembodied, it seems, escapes from deep within, a sound born of ultimate rapture, and then the world explodes in your loins, blasting out your joy, again and again and again. All of creation subsumed in your spectacular climax, nothing existing outside the halo of bliss which has engulfed you, like a cloak of light. Then, just when you're about to come back to earth, thinking that your time in paradise is over, a second wave, less powerful than the first, but still outshining almost everything in your life until now, takes hold of your body and soul, and you're off to the heights again, this recapitulation feeling like a bath in warm chocolate, slipping and sliding and sweet.
And then, finally, it is over, and you're floating back to reality, lachrymose. The moisture squeezes from the corners of your eyes, and trickles down your cheeks.
"Oh, sweetie, are you alright? Have I hurt you?"
Again, you find it nearly impossible to speak, but know you must.
"It was....unbelievable. I never guessed it could be so good." Your voice cracks with emotion. "Th....thank you, so very much."
You can see the relief on his face, you can tell, even at your tender age, that he would have been devastated to have done you any harm.
"Was....was it your first time, really?"
You smile, then chuckle, then laugh madly, as the full impact of the last minutes come home to you, and you think of the answer you want to give.
"No....it was my first, and second!!"
And then you throw your arms around his neck, and kiss him. And he smiles, like he's never smiled before.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
****
It starts with questions.
"Would you? I want to know, want to feel, will you help me to find out?"
"Could I? I'd love to, but are you sure it's what you really want?"
No hesitation, you know the answer to both of those questions. Your voice seems almost beyond your command, though, so that when you do speak, it's in a breathless rush, your words uncharacteristically sibilant.
"Yes, oh yes, please!"
Two pairs of eyes meet, and the unspoken answer concurs with the spoken. Nothing more needs to be said. Gentle hands guide you, tender fingers unshroud your mystery. A journey has begun, from inchoate longing towards shimmering reality. You've heard about, read about the destination, but have never managed to find the right path. Now you have a caring guide, willing and able to show you the way, at your own pace, ready at any moment to turn back if you find it too much, wanting only the best for you, wanting to make it an experience for you to treasure, forever.
"Are you OK? Tell me, please, if you're not, anytime. Just say the word. You're in charge."
You nod, not wishing to break the spell by speaking, and let your eyelids droop as swirling patterns of pleasure are drawn across your body, like invisible Polynesian tattoos. Your lips part a fraction, just enough to show glimmers of white as your teeth catch the light, making you look hungry for more. The ball of a thumb grazes your nipple, and you gasp at the sensation, never having suspected such feelings could be elicited from such a tiny nub of flesh. Fingertips trace a path lower down, caressing and teasing the silk of your skin, you lick your lips instinctively as the insistent touch sends shivers and sparks coursing through your nervous system, racing around from head to toe before finding their way to the rapturous focal point, pulsing with your quickening heartbeat, aching with anticipation. The meandering fingers have by now reached your inner thighs, and you hold your breath, seemingly for ever, as they edge ever closer to what you hope, so desperately, are their target. Then a new feeling, palms of hands so carefully lifting and parting your legs, tipping you backwards a little so you rest on your coccyx, before the fingers return, now softly, so softly, exploring the orbs, the size and shape of large olives, in your smooth sac, then lower still, tracing the path of your perineum, back and forth three or four times, making you shudder and tremble, making you want to divert those hands to the centre of it all, the steely nexus of desire standing tall, proudly displaying your nascent masculinity.
"Please!" Your urgent whisper, you've been so patient, but can be patient no longer.
Calmly, unhurriedly, your legs are lowered, but still apart. It's so close now, you can feel the warm breath bathing you, you close your eyes and then it's there, like an electric shock in slow motion, as you're drawn so smoothly, so sweetly, into a hot and humid cavern. Lips and tongue speaking silent words of love and wonder, building an edifice of delight, taking you to places that you could never have dreamed of, climbing higher and higher, feeling better and better, so that you never want the ascent to end, but the event horizon is rushing inexorably towards you, the lip of the waterfall inescapable, you try and try to hold yourself back, to remain on that plateau of ecstasy just a moment longer, but it's impossible, the singularity will not be denied. And then you hear, as much as feel, the glorious moment arrive, as a groan, disembodied, it seems, escapes from deep within, a sound born of ultimate rapture, and then the world explodes in your loins, blasting out your joy, again and again and again. All of creation subsumed in your spectacular climax, nothing existing outside the halo of bliss which has engulfed you, like a cloak of light. Then, just when you're about to come back to earth, thinking that your time in paradise is over, a second wave, less powerful than the first, but still outshining almost everything in your life until now, takes hold of your body and soul, and you're off to the heights again, this recapitulation feeling like a bath in warm chocolate, slipping and sliding and sweet.
And then, finally, it is over, and you're floating back to reality, lachrymose. The moisture squeezes from the corners of your eyes, and trickles down your cheeks.
"Oh, sweetie, are you alright? Have I hurt you?"
Again, you find it nearly impossible to speak, but know you must.
"It was....unbelievable. I never guessed it could be so good." Your voice cracks with emotion. "Th....thank you, so very much."
You can see the relief on his face, you can tell, even at your tender age, that he would have been devastated to have done you any harm.
"Was....was it your first time, really?"
You smile, then chuckle, then laugh madly, as the full impact of the last minutes come home to you, and you think of the answer you want to give.
"No....it was my first, and second!!"
And then you throw your arms around his neck, and kiss him. And he smiles, like he's never smiled before.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Saturday, 1 October 2011
Glasshouse
Easy to throw your barbs
At a self-confessed soft target
All too easy to ignore
That you are far from being without sin
It's a useful strategy, to deflect
Criticism from your own foibles
By highlighting the faults of others
Shine in contrast to the darkness elsewhere
Shout loudest, drown out the doubts within
And the words of those who might question
Your own morality, your own transgressions
But, when all is done, you can't escape from who you are
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
At a self-confessed soft target
All too easy to ignore
That you are far from being without sin
It's a useful strategy, to deflect
Criticism from your own foibles
By highlighting the faults of others
Shine in contrast to the darkness elsewhere
Shout loudest, drown out the doubts within
And the words of those who might question
Your own morality, your own transgressions
But, when all is done, you can't escape from who you are
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Thursday, 22 September 2011
Loss
Melancholy song, brings hot tears to my eyes
Thinking of you, and how it could have been
A different life, in a different place
All thrown aside because of my fears
I know you, too, have loved and lost
But at least you had your time together
All I have is the deadly knowledge that
Through cowardice, I let you slip away
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Thinking of you, and how it could have been
A different life, in a different place
All thrown aside because of my fears
I know you, too, have loved and lost
But at least you had your time together
All I have is the deadly knowledge that
Through cowardice, I let you slip away
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Saturday, 10 September 2011
Paragon
You gaze out at me, totally at ease in your skyclad state, completely unembarrassed by being seen as nature intended. Dark hair, dark eyes, almost black, like moist olives, from my perspective, but sparkling with youthful joie de vivre, the glorious light eggshell brown of your tanned skin, hinting at the blood of exotic southern places coursing through your veins, white teeth glittering in contrast, displayed through your delightful, natural smile, your happiness unabashedly on show.
Your body, silky smooth and glabrous as a dolphin, neither fat nor thin, but sturdy, robust, beautifully proportioned, suggestions of nascent musculature, as yet undeveloped, ideal for your stage in life.
My eyes drawn inexorably lower, lighting upon the wonderous perfection of all that makes you a boy, at rest now, but so obviously full of vigour, making ready to bring such pleasure to you and to the one, or the many, lucky enough to share your love in years to come.
Would that I could reach through the texture of space and time and enfold you in a warm embrace, that would be enough for me, to assuage the itch of wanting, of wishing, though if you wanted more, I'd deny you nothing I was capable of giving, because nothing is too good for you, beautiful boy.
Picture perfect, in a perfect picture.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Your body, silky smooth and glabrous as a dolphin, neither fat nor thin, but sturdy, robust, beautifully proportioned, suggestions of nascent musculature, as yet undeveloped, ideal for your stage in life.
My eyes drawn inexorably lower, lighting upon the wonderous perfection of all that makes you a boy, at rest now, but so obviously full of vigour, making ready to bring such pleasure to you and to the one, or the many, lucky enough to share your love in years to come.
Would that I could reach through the texture of space and time and enfold you in a warm embrace, that would be enough for me, to assuage the itch of wanting, of wishing, though if you wanted more, I'd deny you nothing I was capable of giving, because nothing is too good for you, beautiful boy.
Picture perfect, in a perfect picture.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Wednesday, 24 August 2011
Hindsight
Each ache, cables from the past, bleach and leach the feeling from the soul
No longer able to heal, days when all was well fading far and fast
Into a half-forgotten past, of sunlit tableaux, standing alone
Without context, significance forgotten, simply dusty photographs
Signposts no longer able to be read, those junctions long since traversed
Routes to alternative futures never again accessible, no way to recross
The Rubicon, those dice forever cast, like a wasp trapped in a jam jar
Drowning in what ought to have sustained, a life drained of hope.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
No longer able to heal, days when all was well fading far and fast
Into a half-forgotten past, of sunlit tableaux, standing alone
Without context, significance forgotten, simply dusty photographs
Signposts no longer able to be read, those junctions long since traversed
Routes to alternative futures never again accessible, no way to recross
The Rubicon, those dice forever cast, like a wasp trapped in a jam jar
Drowning in what ought to have sustained, a life drained of hope.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Monday, 22 August 2011
Endgame
Say what you will, lay bear your soul
It's just the same, you may as well
Spit in the wind, you can't cajole
Those who don't care, this life is hell
You live and breathe, but cry inside
No hope of more, no inner fire
No loving touch, you can but hide
All that you want, never aspire
You must be wrong, they must be right
They shout so loud, ne'er short of breath
Of how you're vile, nothing but blight
All you deserve, is painful death
Then you believe, the lies they spout
You're the reason, for all their woes
It's time to go, your hope's run out
Knife cuts so sharp, your life blood flows
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Friday, 19 August 2011
Discrimination
The man heard raised voices coming from the big room at the back of the house that was used as a den, a family room.
"That's so straight!"
"Jack McKay, I heard that! There's no need for that kind of expression! How would you like it if Steven said that to you? Come here!"
The boy shuffled sheepishly into the hallway.
"S...sorry, Dad. I didn't know you were there."
"Evidently. Just because some people are different, there's no need to be horrible about it. Don't you think the world would be a boring place if everyone was the same?"
The boy shifted uncomfortably under his father's scrutiny. "I don't know....I suppose so. Why are some people....that way, anyway?"
"I don't think anyone knows for sure. Some combination of their genes and their environment, they say. Whatever the reason, it's not something they choose, it's just part of who they are. You're left-handed, did you choose that? Of course not. It doesn't make you better or worse, just different from the majority."
"I never thought of it like that. It's just....it's gross, I'd never want to do that!"
"Jack, I know it's hard for you to understand at your age - I was a boy too, not that long ago." The boy smirked surreptitiously. "I really hope you aren't going to grow up prejudiced. There's good and bad in all sorts of people - it's the person that's important, not the label others put on them. Please try to be nice to everyone, the world's a much better place when you are."
"I'll try, Dad," the boy replied, his eyes downcast.
"Good boy - now go and say you're sorry to Steven, please. If he likes girls instead of boys, that's his business. It doesn't stop him being your friend, does it?"
"Nah - he's my bestie! Can I go, Dad?"
"Of course - just remember, no name-calling!"
"OK." The boy scampered back into the family room, and, when the man looked through the open door a couple of minutes later, the two 11 year olds were engrossed in their game, their spat forgotten, the best of friends once more.
I'll have to have a chat with my husband, the man thought, see if we can find some way of showing the boy some positive heterosexual role models, to underline the message that they were just different, not degenerate or depraved. Mind you, the man thought wryly, Jack was on the same wavelength as himself on one level - I'd never want to 'do that', either!
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
"That's so straight!"
"Jack McKay, I heard that! There's no need for that kind of expression! How would you like it if Steven said that to you? Come here!"
The boy shuffled sheepishly into the hallway.
"S...sorry, Dad. I didn't know you were there."
"Evidently. Just because some people are different, there's no need to be horrible about it. Don't you think the world would be a boring place if everyone was the same?"
The boy shifted uncomfortably under his father's scrutiny. "I don't know....I suppose so. Why are some people....that way, anyway?"
"I don't think anyone knows for sure. Some combination of their genes and their environment, they say. Whatever the reason, it's not something they choose, it's just part of who they are. You're left-handed, did you choose that? Of course not. It doesn't make you better or worse, just different from the majority."
"I never thought of it like that. It's just....it's gross, I'd never want to do that!"
"Jack, I know it's hard for you to understand at your age - I was a boy too, not that long ago." The boy smirked surreptitiously. "I really hope you aren't going to grow up prejudiced. There's good and bad in all sorts of people - it's the person that's important, not the label others put on them. Please try to be nice to everyone, the world's a much better place when you are."
"I'll try, Dad," the boy replied, his eyes downcast.
"Good boy - now go and say you're sorry to Steven, please. If he likes girls instead of boys, that's his business. It doesn't stop him being your friend, does it?"
"Nah - he's my bestie! Can I go, Dad?"
"Of course - just remember, no name-calling!"
"OK." The boy scampered back into the family room, and, when the man looked through the open door a couple of minutes later, the two 11 year olds were engrossed in their game, their spat forgotten, the best of friends once more.
I'll have to have a chat with my husband, the man thought, see if we can find some way of showing the boy some positive heterosexual role models, to underline the message that they were just different, not degenerate or depraved. Mind you, the man thought wryly, Jack was on the same wavelength as himself on one level - I'd never want to 'do that', either!
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Thursday, 18 August 2011
Faith
For Lydia - R.I.P.
****
We must be obeyed, commandments respected
New thoughts bring danger, traditions rejected
You must be like us, gods will be offended
By upstarts like you, right must be defended
Don't cry in your pain, we've all been affected
By your heinous sin, you must be corrected
It's for your own good, you're now uninfected
Damn, you're not breathing, that wasn't expected
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
****
We must be obeyed, commandments respected
New thoughts bring danger, traditions rejected
You must be like us, gods will be offended
By upstarts like you, right must be defended
Don't cry in your pain, we've all been affected
By your heinous sin, you must be corrected
It's for your own good, you're now uninfected
Damn, you're not breathing, that wasn't expected
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Thursday, 11 August 2011
Time
Time to yield, time to try
Time to laugh, time to cry
Time to live, time to die
When's the time to say goodbye?
Time for light, time for grey
Time for work, time for play
Time to think, time to say
Now it's time to go my way
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Time to laugh, time to cry
Time to live, time to die
When's the time to say goodbye?
Time for light, time for grey
Time for work, time for play
Time to think, time to say
Now it's time to go my way
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Monday, 25 July 2011
Pinnacle
At last, at last! It had happened at last. Thirty years and more of waiting, of wanting, now swept aside in one delirious, head-spinning night. After so much anticipation, so many fantasies of how it would be, any version of the reality, he had thought, would be anticlimactic, but how wrong he had been! It had been ecstatic beyond his wildest imagination, hour after hour of sensory overload, more pleasure than he could ever have envisaged, every sight, sound, smell, taste and touch combining to transcend anything that he had ever experienced. He knew there was no love, of course, that it was just a business proposition for his partner, but even that one missing piece of the jigsaw couldn't detract from the wonder, the joy of it all, and, in any case, there had been a kiss on parting, all part of the transaction, but so sensuous, so intoxicating and so freely shared that it could have barely been surpassed by the most passionate of lifelong lovers.
But now the man was alone again, lying on the bed in his small, tidy room, contemplating what had taken place. Suddenly, he felt like he could imagine what it was like for a mountaineer, standing on the summit of Everest, knowing that there was, literally, nowhere to go but down. He remembered that song from the eighties, who was it by? James, that was it - the lyrics played themselves in his head, over and over:
After staring sightlessly at the ceiling for several minutes, the man walked to his store cupboard, took out a small, flat box, then went to the sink and drew a large glass of cool water. After washing down the contents of the box, he went back to the bed, and laid down as torpor overtook him. So tired, sleep came quickly....and lasted forever.
The boy smiled to himself as he sat on the train, heading back up to London. Shit, I wish they were all like that, he thought, kind, gentle, grateful....and generous. The boy had never seen so much money at one time in his life. Even the kiss the man had asked for before he left, something he normally hated doing, had been really nice. I hope I see him again, he thought, not knowing, how could he, that by the time the thought was born in his mind, the man had already breathed his last.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
But now the man was alone again, lying on the bed in his small, tidy room, contemplating what had taken place. Suddenly, he felt like he could imagine what it was like for a mountaineer, standing on the summit of Everest, knowing that there was, literally, nowhere to go but down. He remembered that song from the eighties, who was it by? James, that was it - the lyrics played themselves in his head, over and over:
Now I've swung back down again
It's worse than it was before
If I hadn't seen such riches
I could live with being poor
It's worse than it was before
If I hadn't seen such riches
I could live with being poor
The boy smiled to himself as he sat on the train, heading back up to London. Shit, I wish they were all like that, he thought, kind, gentle, grateful....and generous. The boy had never seen so much money at one time in his life. Even the kiss the man had asked for before he left, something he normally hated doing, had been really nice. I hope I see him again, he thought, not knowing, how could he, that by the time the thought was born in his mind, the man had already breathed his last.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Flowers
The brightest, freshest blooms cut down by steel and hate
To save the world, you said, but what kind of world?
Your world festering in bigotry, fear and loathing
Your world of prejudice, patriarchal privilege
Is not worth saving, let it die unmourned
Their world of light and hope, peace and equality
Where all can flourish, all can grow, has to be the way
A place where every flower's beauty is cherished, always
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
To save the world, you said, but what kind of world?
Your world festering in bigotry, fear and loathing
Your world of prejudice, patriarchal privilege
Is not worth saving, let it die unmourned
Their world of light and hope, peace and equality
Where all can flourish, all can grow, has to be the way
A place where every flower's beauty is cherished, always
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Friday, 22 July 2011
Bridges
I've always been fascinated by bridges. The way they reach out from terra firma to join hands above the river, or sea, a ribbon of solidity through the air, linking people and places that would otherwise be separated. I'd spent quite a bit of my life travelling, when time and finances permitted, to see and photograph bridges, but this time it was different. This was going to be my last bridge, the bridge that took me from life to death.
My marriage had collapsed around my ears. I thought I'd been doing the right things, working hard to provide the kind of lifestyle I thought my wife wanted, spending most of my life doing the things I thought she wanted, trying my best to be a good husband. Then, just a few days before our tenth wedding anniversary, she told me she wanted a divorce, because she'd found someone she wanted to be with more than me. Completely out of the blue. It was as though a decade of my life, of my best efforts, were being thrown aside without a second thought. I really couldn't believe it, spent the next few weeks walking about in a daze as the edifice of my life, which had proved to be no more substantial than a mirage, was dismantled around me, leaving me, more or less literally, sitting on my suitcase at the roadside. I moved into a small flat, but I couldn't see the point of going on with the charade, leading me to think about where and how I could put myself out of my misery.
It had to be a bridge, of course. The higher the better. So it was that I found myself sitting on the edge of the abyss, early one summer morning, the new day's sun glinting on the water far, far below. The shards of gold seemed to be calling me inexorably towards them, siren-like. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath.
"Why are you sitting there?"
A voice, disembodied to me, with my eyes tight shut, a young, clear, but firm and confident-sounding voice. One which had no difficulty in speaking to an adult on equal terms. How I could know this from one short sentence, I have no idea, but the impression was indelible.
"Are you alright?"
No. Of course I'm not. Why do you think I'm here? They were my thoughts, but I couldn't turn them into words. I managed to shake my head, then stopped, because when I opened my eyes, the drop looked even more vertiginous. I clung tightly to the railing I was sitting on.
"Don't you think you'd be safer if you came back onto the footpath?"
Unimpeachable logic, of course, but what was the point, I thought. Safe for what? I had nothing worth living for. I looked towards the beckoning water again, an infinite, bottomless distance away, or so it seemed.
"Come on, you're making me nervous - I would hate to see you fall."
What was it - the words themselves, and the sentiment they contained, or the catch in the voice which portrayed the sincerity of the emotion? Whichever it was, and despite my desperate mood, I decided I couldn't do anything rash while this still unseen child was standing close by me. I carefully swung my legs back over the metal fencing, and slid down on the inward side, feeling the artificial ground of the bridge deck beneath my feet almost as a surprise, given that I thought I'd left it for the last time.
"That's better, isn't it?" The tone of voice coming from my left hand side was now solicitous, almost parental - it could, in other circumstances, have been a little ridiculous, coming from a child, but it struck me as being totally appropriate to the situation. The enormity of what I'd nearly done, what I'd convinced myself I wanted, needed to do struck home, and my legs seemed to lose all power to support my weight. I slumped to the pavement, my back against the fence I'd so recently been about to launch myself from. I began to shake, uncontrollably, and suck in huge gulps of air, like a freediver coming up from previously uncharted depths. I might have cried, but I was so overwrought, I'd gone beyond tears into a haze of numbness. After what seemed like hours, but was probably just a minute or two, my mind began to function again, and my senses to focus on my surroundings. At little more than ground level, with downcast eyes, as I was, when I turned my head, almost reluctantly, all I could see were a pair of battered trainers, the lower half of a pair of light blue denim jeans, frayed at the cuffs, and the front wheel of a bike. I knew I needed to say something, but what? As my mental paralysis slowly faded, I knew only one thing would do.
"Thank you," I murmured, hoping it sounded even half as sincere as I'd intended.
"You're welcome." That more adult than most adults voice again, child-like only in pitch and timbre.
Still I couldn't bring myself to look up. "How can I ever repay you?" Clichéd, but the best I could manage.
"You're alright now." A statement, not a question. "You don't owe me anything, I just did what anyone might have done." I was just about to speak again, but I was cut short. "One thing, though, maybe...." The briefest of hesitations. "Just remember this. No-one who really thinks about it, properly, ever wants to die. You might think I'm just a kid, what do I know, but I'm telling you I do know. My dad died last year, he had cancer, he knew he was dying, there was nothing they could do to save him, and he loved life so much. He told me....told me not to be sad, not to feel guilty about being here when he wasn't, but if I wanted to honour his memory, to love life and live it to the full, and to try my best to help everyone else to do the same. So that's what I'm doing. I couldn't save my dad, no-one could, but I can help you, at least, I hope so. Think about living, not dying, that's all I ask. See ya."
He hopped on his bike, and quickly pedalled away, without another word. I dragged my eyes upwards, just in time to see a slender dark-haired boy on a mountain bike disappearing round the corner at the end of the bridge. Just a kid? Anything but. Far, far more than that, without a doubt.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
My marriage had collapsed around my ears. I thought I'd been doing the right things, working hard to provide the kind of lifestyle I thought my wife wanted, spending most of my life doing the things I thought she wanted, trying my best to be a good husband. Then, just a few days before our tenth wedding anniversary, she told me she wanted a divorce, because she'd found someone she wanted to be with more than me. Completely out of the blue. It was as though a decade of my life, of my best efforts, were being thrown aside without a second thought. I really couldn't believe it, spent the next few weeks walking about in a daze as the edifice of my life, which had proved to be no more substantial than a mirage, was dismantled around me, leaving me, more or less literally, sitting on my suitcase at the roadside. I moved into a small flat, but I couldn't see the point of going on with the charade, leading me to think about where and how I could put myself out of my misery.
It had to be a bridge, of course. The higher the better. So it was that I found myself sitting on the edge of the abyss, early one summer morning, the new day's sun glinting on the water far, far below. The shards of gold seemed to be calling me inexorably towards them, siren-like. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath.
"Why are you sitting there?"
A voice, disembodied to me, with my eyes tight shut, a young, clear, but firm and confident-sounding voice. One which had no difficulty in speaking to an adult on equal terms. How I could know this from one short sentence, I have no idea, but the impression was indelible.
"Are you alright?"
No. Of course I'm not. Why do you think I'm here? They were my thoughts, but I couldn't turn them into words. I managed to shake my head, then stopped, because when I opened my eyes, the drop looked even more vertiginous. I clung tightly to the railing I was sitting on.
"Don't you think you'd be safer if you came back onto the footpath?"
Unimpeachable logic, of course, but what was the point, I thought. Safe for what? I had nothing worth living for. I looked towards the beckoning water again, an infinite, bottomless distance away, or so it seemed.
"Come on, you're making me nervous - I would hate to see you fall."
What was it - the words themselves, and the sentiment they contained, or the catch in the voice which portrayed the sincerity of the emotion? Whichever it was, and despite my desperate mood, I decided I couldn't do anything rash while this still unseen child was standing close by me. I carefully swung my legs back over the metal fencing, and slid down on the inward side, feeling the artificial ground of the bridge deck beneath my feet almost as a surprise, given that I thought I'd left it for the last time.
"That's better, isn't it?" The tone of voice coming from my left hand side was now solicitous, almost parental - it could, in other circumstances, have been a little ridiculous, coming from a child, but it struck me as being totally appropriate to the situation. The enormity of what I'd nearly done, what I'd convinced myself I wanted, needed to do struck home, and my legs seemed to lose all power to support my weight. I slumped to the pavement, my back against the fence I'd so recently been about to launch myself from. I began to shake, uncontrollably, and suck in huge gulps of air, like a freediver coming up from previously uncharted depths. I might have cried, but I was so overwrought, I'd gone beyond tears into a haze of numbness. After what seemed like hours, but was probably just a minute or two, my mind began to function again, and my senses to focus on my surroundings. At little more than ground level, with downcast eyes, as I was, when I turned my head, almost reluctantly, all I could see were a pair of battered trainers, the lower half of a pair of light blue denim jeans, frayed at the cuffs, and the front wheel of a bike. I knew I needed to say something, but what? As my mental paralysis slowly faded, I knew only one thing would do.
"Thank you," I murmured, hoping it sounded even half as sincere as I'd intended.
"You're welcome." That more adult than most adults voice again, child-like only in pitch and timbre.
Still I couldn't bring myself to look up. "How can I ever repay you?" Clichéd, but the best I could manage.
"You're alright now." A statement, not a question. "You don't owe me anything, I just did what anyone might have done." I was just about to speak again, but I was cut short. "One thing, though, maybe...." The briefest of hesitations. "Just remember this. No-one who really thinks about it, properly, ever wants to die. You might think I'm just a kid, what do I know, but I'm telling you I do know. My dad died last year, he had cancer, he knew he was dying, there was nothing they could do to save him, and he loved life so much. He told me....told me not to be sad, not to feel guilty about being here when he wasn't, but if I wanted to honour his memory, to love life and live it to the full, and to try my best to help everyone else to do the same. So that's what I'm doing. I couldn't save my dad, no-one could, but I can help you, at least, I hope so. Think about living, not dying, that's all I ask. See ya."
He hopped on his bike, and quickly pedalled away, without another word. I dragged my eyes upwards, just in time to see a slender dark-haired boy on a mountain bike disappearing round the corner at the end of the bridge. Just a kid? Anything but. Far, far more than that, without a doubt.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Saturday, 16 July 2011
Dusk
Sunset, drains the sky
Of daytime's colour palette
World subsides to grey
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Of daytime's colour palette
World subsides to grey
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Remembering
I remember when a day without seeing your face was a day of sorrow
The joy that I felt when you came into sight
More flowing than walking, grace made manifest
The curve of your cheek, the wave of your hair visual poetry
It seemed that nothing would change, beyond the cycle of the seasons
You would always be there, fuelling my dreams and lighting my life
But as summer declined, and autumn leaves turned red
I felt you slipping away, inexorable as death
Days have run into weeks, and weeks into months
And now a whole year, like a chasm between us
Memories of you, insubstantial as light reflected on glass
Are all that remain, drenched with my tears.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
The joy that I felt when you came into sight
More flowing than walking, grace made manifest
The curve of your cheek, the wave of your hair visual poetry
It seemed that nothing would change, beyond the cycle of the seasons
You would always be there, fuelling my dreams and lighting my life
But as summer declined, and autumn leaves turned red
I felt you slipping away, inexorable as death
Days have run into weeks, and weeks into months
And now a whole year, like a chasm between us
Memories of you, insubstantial as light reflected on glass
Are all that remain, drenched with my tears.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Wednesday, 29 June 2011
Vale
Slipping away unseen, as quietly as my unbidden arrival. Maybe there's a place where we can all meet and talk, reach some sort of understanding, but this place doesn't seem to qualify. It's no-one's fault but my own, I know, I'm too far from accepted norms to ever fit in, what I want, want I am just not what people want to be associated with. Thank you to those select few who've tried.
With all my love & best wishes to you all, always
Sammy B
With all my love & best wishes to you all, always
Sammy B
Tuesday, 28 June 2011
Maturity
Father. Our father. A child's supplication.
Heaven. Sweet heaven. An adult's abdication.
Prayer to your gods, no more than exhalation.
Self-righteous hatred, threatening damnation.
How long until we grow up, shake off the fixation?
See these faiths for what they are, specious aberration.
Recognise the way to humankind's salvation.
Through reason, truth, rational contemplation.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Heaven. Sweet heaven. An adult's abdication.
Prayer to your gods, no more than exhalation.
Self-righteous hatred, threatening damnation.
How long until we grow up, shake off the fixation?
See these faiths for what they are, specious aberration.
Recognise the way to humankind's salvation.
Through reason, truth, rational contemplation.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Saturday, 25 June 2011
Embrace
It's late, I'm on my own, as usual. Another day has passed without my having been able to connect, without finding a way to crawl through the event horizon of my isolation. I don't know how many more days like this I can live with, they seem to have always been with me, for as long as I can remember, back to the moment of creation. Always destined to be on the outside looking in, my nose pressed up against the toyshop window of life, while all the more favoured sons and daughters of the world are inside, choosing their presents. It's not as though I want anything extravagant, either, all I want is something that can be freely given, if the circumstances are right. All at once, I realise that what I want and need is never going to be there for me, and I turn away from the brightly lit tableau, to face the only way left open to me. The embrace of endless darkness.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Friday, 24 June 2011
Maze
Groping through unrelenting darkness, trying to feel my way
Navigating the convolutions, as much by instinct as reason
Trapped in a hall of mirrors, all reflecting nothing but black
Succeeding in staying hidden, only by being hopelessly lost
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Navigating the convolutions, as much by instinct as reason
Trapped in a hall of mirrors, all reflecting nothing but black
Succeeding in staying hidden, only by being hopelessly lost
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Tuesday, 14 June 2011
Light
As he looks at the man in the mirror
The spark has gone out in his eyes
The spectre of death drawing nearer
The knowledge that time truly flies
Too much of his life spent in wanting
So little fulfilling the need
Frustration of constantly searching
For the key so his heart could be freed
A last, weak, faltering heartbeat
No hope of reprieve comes in sight
Gone without ever knowing sweet
Love's illumining light.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
The spark has gone out in his eyes
The spectre of death drawing nearer
The knowledge that time truly flies
Too much of his life spent in wanting
So little fulfilling the need
Frustration of constantly searching
For the key so his heart could be freed
A last, weak, faltering heartbeat
No hope of reprieve comes in sight
Gone without ever knowing sweet
Love's illumining light.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Tuesday, 7 June 2011
Attraction
Impenetrable depths, enigma wrapped in quandary.
Why? Why you? When all the world seems to say I'm wrong.
I wish I could make it go away, thrust it back into the darkness whence it came.
Fulfil the role society condones for me, obediently follow the rules.
Instead the best I can do is to hide inside my own skin.
Pretend to those around me that I fit into the proper template.
While all the while I'm screaming inside, frustration boiling.
The tension building, the real me drowning in a sea of wanting.
The agony of never being able to be truthful.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Why? Why you? When all the world seems to say I'm wrong.
I wish I could make it go away, thrust it back into the darkness whence it came.
Fulfil the role society condones for me, obediently follow the rules.
Instead the best I can do is to hide inside my own skin.
Pretend to those around me that I fit into the proper template.
While all the while I'm screaming inside, frustration boiling.
The tension building, the real me drowning in a sea of wanting.
The agony of never being able to be truthful.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Nihilsm
Nothing ever will
Change in a positive way
Ekeing out a life.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Change in a positive way
Ekeing out a life.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Saturday, 4 June 2011
Propaganda
"We can't let him win."
"Why? He's the most talented performer by far, and everyone loves him."
"What sort of example would it set if he came out on top? What would the public think? I can just imagine the reaction from the tabloids. We go out before the watershed, you know that. All those kids watching. We'll be accused of corrupting the youth of the nation."
"The public vote, pay to vote. If they want him to win, what's the problem. If they think he's a bad influence, they won't back him. Isn't that the point of the exercise, the people speaking?"
"Come on, you know you don't believe that. The object of the exercise is to make money. If the 'silent majority' decide he's not one of their kind, we'll lose millions. It doesn't matter how good he is, it's whether he's marketable that counts. And I really don't think he's marketable, long term. He'll grow up, then he'll just be another limp-wristed luvvie. Let's make sure we get someone that Middle England will happily listen to on Radio 2. Then the gravy train will run for years."
"Anyone ever tell you you're a grasping cynic?"
"Yeah - got a problem with that!" Laughter. "Anyway, we've got to keep these queers in their place - even if they are only 12. Can't have them thinking they're acceptable."
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
"Why? He's the most talented performer by far, and everyone loves him."
"What sort of example would it set if he came out on top? What would the public think? I can just imagine the reaction from the tabloids. We go out before the watershed, you know that. All those kids watching. We'll be accused of corrupting the youth of the nation."
"The public vote, pay to vote. If they want him to win, what's the problem. If they think he's a bad influence, they won't back him. Isn't that the point of the exercise, the people speaking?"
"Come on, you know you don't believe that. The object of the exercise is to make money. If the 'silent majority' decide he's not one of their kind, we'll lose millions. It doesn't matter how good he is, it's whether he's marketable that counts. And I really don't think he's marketable, long term. He'll grow up, then he'll just be another limp-wristed luvvie. Let's make sure we get someone that Middle England will happily listen to on Radio 2. Then the gravy train will run for years."
"Anyone ever tell you you're a grasping cynic?"
"Yeah - got a problem with that!" Laughter. "Anyway, we've got to keep these queers in their place - even if they are only 12. Can't have them thinking they're acceptable."
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Monday, 30 May 2011
Vibgyor
Author's note - Any Nabokovians out there may recognise that I've 'borrowed' the title and the three header words below from V.N., with apologies to the great man's shade.
****
Adoration
The one and only, consumes my days and haunts my dreams, never before has anyone been like you, never again will anyone come close. Love you till death, there will never be another.
Sorrow
You don't even know I exist, you could never feel the same. I can never tell the world what you mean to me, they would never understand if I did.
Rainbows
One day, some way, maybe people will understand that even though love comes in different colours, it's still the same love. Then we can hold hands and share the iridian beauty, without fear in our hearts.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
****
Adoration
The one and only, consumes my days and haunts my dreams, never before has anyone been like you, never again will anyone come close. Love you till death, there will never be another.
Sorrow
You don't even know I exist, you could never feel the same. I can never tell the world what you mean to me, they would never understand if I did.
Rainbows
One day, some way, maybe people will understand that even though love comes in different colours, it's still the same love. Then we can hold hands and share the iridian beauty, without fear in our hearts.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Sunday, 29 May 2011
Ecstasy
What....just....happened!
I wish life had a PVR, so I could rewind and replay the last couple of minutes, although, even seeing it a second, or even a third time, I might not believe it.
It had been a very bad day, work had been appalling, one of those 'anything that can go wrong, and even a few things that you thought could never go wrong, had gone wrong' kind of days, exacerbated by a manager whose ineptitude and lack of people skills would have tried the patience of the Dalai Lama, and then I'd been stuck in a seemingly intractable traffic jam on the way home, my usual forty minute journey eventually taking over two hours. When my doorbell rang before I'd even had the chance to get changed, I stomped to answer it planning to chew the head off of whichever double glazing salesman or equivalent had had the audacity to disturb me at a time like this. I wrenched the door open, drew in a breath to launch my tirade....and stopped in my tracks.
"Hi, Andy, I thought I heard your car. Mum said I could come over and see you - if that's OK with you. I need some help with my maths homework. Do you mind?"
Suddenly, all the woes of the day seemed to be washed away. As always, the sight of his face, the sound of his voice, the knowledge of the boyish exuberance just being kept in check, took me to another place, however low a point I was coming from. He wasn't, at 12, traffic-stoppingly gorgeous, wildly intelligent or stunningly talented, just an averagely nice-looking, well-proportioned and reasonably bright kid, but, somehow, the whole package was just totally irresistible to me. When he wasn't around, I had moments of guilt about the way he made me feel, but, in his presence, all of that was forgotten, I just cherished every moment. Every moment with the secret, unrequitable, unutterably wonderful love of my life.
"Yeah, no problem, Luke, come in. You know you're always welcome."
He smiled, and my heart melted all over again. Like it did every time he smiled. I tried to smile in return, but the combination of my rotten day and the knowledge, usually suppressed, but there all the time like a memento mori, that he would never, never feel the same way about me as I did about him, made my effort half-hearted at best. He noticed.
"Look, should I go, Andy, I don't want to be a pain."
"No, really, sunshine, I've just had a rough day, that's all. You're fine."
He looked at me, thoughtfully. There was a slightly awkward silence, a momentary hiatus.
"Andy....I don't like to see you sad. Mum always says....when I'm sad...." He hesitated again.
"What, Luke, what does she say?" I could manage little more than a whisper.
"Do....do you need a hug?"
I tried to answer, but I choked up, my eyes full of tears. All I could do was to slump down on the nearest dining chair and open my arms. He stepped between my parted knees and wrapped me up in a warm, loving but chaste embrace, and I responded in kind. For as long as I live, I'll never forget that moment, in each other's arms, love and caring flowing back and forth between us. Our eyes met, and a tear trickled down my cheek.
"Oh, Luke, thank you. I....love you."
He looked stunned, but just for a moment, before the smile returned, brighter than ever.
"I love you too."
And then I really was crying, but for joy. I'd received a passport straight to ecstasy.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
I wish life had a PVR, so I could rewind and replay the last couple of minutes, although, even seeing it a second, or even a third time, I might not believe it.
It had been a very bad day, work had been appalling, one of those 'anything that can go wrong, and even a few things that you thought could never go wrong, had gone wrong' kind of days, exacerbated by a manager whose ineptitude and lack of people skills would have tried the patience of the Dalai Lama, and then I'd been stuck in a seemingly intractable traffic jam on the way home, my usual forty minute journey eventually taking over two hours. When my doorbell rang before I'd even had the chance to get changed, I stomped to answer it planning to chew the head off of whichever double glazing salesman or equivalent had had the audacity to disturb me at a time like this. I wrenched the door open, drew in a breath to launch my tirade....and stopped in my tracks.
"Hi, Andy, I thought I heard your car. Mum said I could come over and see you - if that's OK with you. I need some help with my maths homework. Do you mind?"
Suddenly, all the woes of the day seemed to be washed away. As always, the sight of his face, the sound of his voice, the knowledge of the boyish exuberance just being kept in check, took me to another place, however low a point I was coming from. He wasn't, at 12, traffic-stoppingly gorgeous, wildly intelligent or stunningly talented, just an averagely nice-looking, well-proportioned and reasonably bright kid, but, somehow, the whole package was just totally irresistible to me. When he wasn't around, I had moments of guilt about the way he made me feel, but, in his presence, all of that was forgotten, I just cherished every moment. Every moment with the secret, unrequitable, unutterably wonderful love of my life.
"Yeah, no problem, Luke, come in. You know you're always welcome."
He smiled, and my heart melted all over again. Like it did every time he smiled. I tried to smile in return, but the combination of my rotten day and the knowledge, usually suppressed, but there all the time like a memento mori, that he would never, never feel the same way about me as I did about him, made my effort half-hearted at best. He noticed.
"Look, should I go, Andy, I don't want to be a pain."
"No, really, sunshine, I've just had a rough day, that's all. You're fine."
He looked at me, thoughtfully. There was a slightly awkward silence, a momentary hiatus.
"Andy....I don't like to see you sad. Mum always says....when I'm sad...." He hesitated again.
"What, Luke, what does she say?" I could manage little more than a whisper.
"Do....do you need a hug?"
I tried to answer, but I choked up, my eyes full of tears. All I could do was to slump down on the nearest dining chair and open my arms. He stepped between my parted knees and wrapped me up in a warm, loving but chaste embrace, and I responded in kind. For as long as I live, I'll never forget that moment, in each other's arms, love and caring flowing back and forth between us. Our eyes met, and a tear trickled down my cheek.
"Oh, Luke, thank you. I....love you."
He looked stunned, but just for a moment, before the smile returned, brighter than ever.
"I love you too."
And then I really was crying, but for joy. I'd received a passport straight to ecstasy.
****
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
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