Sunday, 27 February 2011

Judgment

Greeted with a screaming silence more eloquent than words.
Enunciations of disapproval unnecessary.
Persona non grata personified, not one of our kind.
Love that dare not speak its name, as an older writer knew.

We decide who you can love, your feelings are irrelevant.

****

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Friday, 25 February 2011

Suadela

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


I don't want to seem as though I'm belabouring the point, but there's a lot more sex in this story than anything else I've written. Please don't read if you may be offended.


SB

****

The boy was bored. He'd only just moved into the area, hundreds of miles from his original home and all of his friends, his dad had just started a new job in the what the locals thought of as the 'big city' a few miles away, but which, from what the boy had seen of it so far, wasn't much to shout about, certainly nothing like the 'real' city where he'd been born and raised. His mum had a job interview that day, too, so, as he was now thirteen, and deemed to be old enough and responsible enough to look after himself for a few hours, he'd been left home alone. If he'd had any friends around, it could've been a bit of an adventure, but having only moved into their new house the previous weekend, and not having started at his new school yet, because there was only one week of term left before the summer holidays, he'd had no chance to get to know anyone his own age, or, indeed, anyone at all, in this quiet backwater. The only kid of around his age he'd even seen so far was a girl who lived in one of the slightly bigger houses at the end of road that backed onto the adjacent farmland, but she seemed to wear a different school uniform from the one he'd seen when he visited the local senior school that he'd be starting at in September, and, anyway, he wasn't really that interested in girls, all they seemed to do was talk rubbish and giggle, as far as he could see. The boy slumped down on the garden wall outside his house, surely something must happen in this dump....mustn't it?

The man decided he'd been in couch potato mode long enough - it was time to get out and get some fresh air. The temptation to spend his time off just slobbing about was difficult to overcome - he was used to getting up well before dawn when he was on early shifts and getting home well after dark on lates, seeing his wife and daughter for little more than a couple of hours a day, especially as he had to make a fifty mile round trip each working day on top of his ten hour stints at work. He enjoyed his job, though, and he knew it was much better paid than many in this relatively poor part of the world, well paid enough to keep up with the mortgage on what was a very nice house, while his wife's job paid for life's little luxuries. He had no grounds for complaint, he thought....except that there always seemed to be a nagging doubt poking its nose above the parapet of his unconscious mind, a feeling that there was something missing in his life, but it was something that he could never quite pin down. He shook his head as he strolled to the living room window, looking out onto what was, as usual at this time on a weekday, a quiet street outside. Except....there was a figure sitting on the wall outside the house with the estate agents' 'Sold' sign still displayed, the house which had seen a removal van being unloaded for several hours last Saturday. It was the first time for almost three years that a house in the street had changed hands - it was that sort of area, a pleasant place to live, and one which, once people moved into, they tended not to leave too readily. He looked again at the small form sitting with shoulders hunched - a child, seemingly, I wonder why they're not in school? None of his business, the man guessed. Just at that moment, the child turned to look in his direction, and he saw that it was a boy, blond, tousled, collar-length hair, nice looking, as far as he could tell from 50 yards or so away, about his daughter's age, he would've said had anyone asked. Virtual cogs seemed to mesh in his mind, momentarily - was this something to do with the camouflaged void in his life, the absent light? The man thrust the thought from his mind, almost violently - he'd never been attracted to kids, and he certainly wasn't going to be starting now. Definitely time for a brisk walk to freshen himself up, physically and mentally.

The boy noticed the man looking out of the big picture window, looking his way, if the boy wasn't mistaken. That's the house where the girl with the posh school uniform lives, the boy thought. That must be her dad. He looks younger than my mum and dad, I wonder what he's like? The man reminded the boy of the father of one of his friends back at home, Ricky's dad used to be a really good laugh, he was better on the Xbox than Ricky was! At that moment, the man seemed to frown and turned quickly away from the window. Oh well, the boy mused, I doubt he plays Xbox, anyway.

A few minutes later, the front door of the end house opened, and the man emerged. He stood on the doorstep for a few moments, as though trying to decide which way to go, before heading up the street, towards where the boy was still sitting. The boy watched carefully as the man approached, while trying not to make his curiosity too obvious, exactly what, ironically, the man was doing at the same moment, looking at the boy askance, as it were, trying to disguise his interest, even from himself. Both of them failed in their subterfuge, and their eyes met. The man wanted to make himself walk past, but couldn't, his forward momentum petering out next to where the boy was sitting. Having stopped, and having made pretty obvious eye contact, the man felt he had to say something to deflect the potential embarrassment of the situation.

"Are you OK," the man asked, "I mean, are you locked out of your house, or anything?"

"No, I'm fine, just not got anything much to do until my mum gets back."

"No school today, then?"

"I'm not starting until next term, my old school breaks up today anyway, so mum and dad said it wasn't worth me going in just for a few days here, then having to start all over again after the holidays."

"Sounds sensible. My daughter's school finishes tomorrow. I think the local comp are in until Friday, but don't quote me on that. There aren't too many kids in this neck of the woods, and with my daughter going to a different school, I'm not always up to date with what they're doing round here. I don't suppose you know too many people locally yet, do you."

The boy's face fell even further, as the man inadvertently reminded him of his isolation. "No-one at all - apart from my mum and dad, you're the first person I've spoken to since we moved in."

The man felt sorry for the youngster, but wondered what, if anything he could do - in this day and age, he felt he was taking a chance by even speaking to the boy. People just seemed to assume the worst automatically. He looked around, instinctively, to see if anyone was watching.

"Looking for someone?" the boy asked.

The man flushed a little. "Just a bit nervous about talking to you - a man talking to a boy he doesn't know, some people might think I'm going to kidnap you, or something."

"And are you?"

"Of course not!" The man looked horrified, much to the boy's amusement - his attractive face split into a broad grin, making him look ten times as handsome as before, the man thought.

"You should see your face," the boy laughed, "you look like I'd said you had to eat your daughter!"

The man felt a momentary annoyance, but then the humour of the situation struck him, and he laughed out loud. The boy looked up at him again, smiling warmly. There was definitely some chemistry between them, they both felt in their different ways.

"I'm going for a walk," the man said. "Not too far, just a couple of miles to stretch my legs." He hesitated before continuing with what had come into his mind initially. "Do you want to come, I can show you around a bit if you like."

The boy considered the offer for a moment - he'd been told often enough not to talk to strangers, but this man only lived a few yards from him, so he hardly qualified as a stranger, more of a neighbour. In any case, the man seemed nice enough - he'd taken the time to speak, in case there had been a problem. The boy made his mind up.

"Yes, I'd like to come. I'll just make sure the front door's locked."

The pair walked off side by side, chatting as they strolled along. The boy told the man where he'd moved from, about his friends, about his friend's dad who used to beat them all at video games. The man laughed.

"You've no danger of that happening with me! My daughter thinks I'm not trying when I play her, but she's wrong - I try my hardest, and still can't get anywhere near her! And she doesn't even play that often! She can't beat me at Scrabble or backgammon, though."

"Backgammon?" the boy said. "Isn't that a really complicated game, like chess?"

"No, it's ever so easy to learn. I could teach you to play in five minutes. It takes the rest of your life to get good at it, though!"

The boy had a thoughtful look on his face, when a few seconds of silence which had punctuated their conversation drew the man to look down at his companion.

"Penny for them?"

"Huh?!"

"Your thoughts."

"Oh, nothing, really. I was thinking about learning backgammon." That thought was on the boy's mind, he wasn't being untruthful, but there was something else there as well, something he didn't think he ought to mention yet - he didn't want to scare his new friend away. Something he'd seen on the internet, and that had been on his mind for quite a while, since well before he'd moved from his old house, in fact. Something he thought he wanted to try, but would need all his powers of persuasion to bring about. Maybe this man might be able to be persuaded - just maybe.

****

The man and boy had walked for the best part of an hour on that first afternoon, the boy being dropped off outside his house before the man continued the short distance to his own front door. The boy had already decided he wanted more of the man's company, the man, on the other hand, thought that would probably be the end of the matter - after all, he wouldn't have been thrilled to find that his daughter had wandered off with someone she barely knew, and he didn't think the boy's parents would be any better disposed towards the situation. It saddened him, but he was a realist, first and foremost.

In fact, it looked as though things were going to be even worse than the man thought. The following morning, shortly after his wife had left for work, he glanced out of his window to see a short woman, perhaps in her early forties, come out of the boy's house and make a beeline for his front door. He wouldn't say she was looking angry, but she wasn't wreathed in smiles, either. Here comes the 'stay away from my son, or else' speech, the man thought. The doorbell rang.

As they hadn't met, the man decided to play the innocent. "Hello, can I help you?"

The woman introduced herself, the man reciprocated. Then she cut to the chase.

"I believe my son went for a walk with you yesterday afternoon."

"If your son is the fair haired boy who was sitting on the wall yesterday, then yes, he did."

"He said you asked him if he was locked out, and needed any help."

"Yes - I saw him sitting there, and I was concerned. I would hope one of the neighbours around here would do the same for my daughter, if the circumstances were similar. He told me he was bored, I was taking a walk, we ended up going together. If you'd been here, I would've had him ask your permission. I can understand why you're worried, and I apologise if you think what happened was inappropriate."

"Well, you do hear stories....it's sometimes difficult to know who and what to believe, so the temptation is to assume everyone is a danger until they've proved themselves otherwise."

"I certainly know what you mean - I'm sure our parents had a less complicated time than we do!"

The woman laughed. "You may well be right! My son mentioned something about learning to play backgammon - he said you'd be able to teach him in five minutes. I thought the game was more of a challenge than that."

"If he's interested, I'm certainly able to teach him - with your permission, of course. It really isn't a hard game to play, but it perhaps is harder to play well."

"Well - I do need to go shopping later on this morning, and he isn't a fan of supermarkets. Would you mind if he was to come over?"

"Of course not, he was good company yesterday. Any time is fine by me, I've no special plans for the day."

We shook hands, and she left thanking me, and telling me that I must meet her husband at the weekend. I said I was sure that my wife would like to get to know her, and that my daughter might well get on with the boy, as she was a bit on the tomboyish side herself.

OK - that could've been a lot more traumatic, the man thought. It still remained to be seen if the boy would actually show up, though, but the man found himself rather looking forward to the prospect, now that he had the boy's mother onside.

Within the hour, the doorbell rang again. The man opened the front door, to find the boy on the threshold.

"My mum said it was alright with you to come over," the boy said with a smile, "I want to learn backgammon - and I want to spend some time with you," he added conspiratorially.

Why did he add that rider, the man wondered. If he's here to learn backgammon, he's going to be with me anyway. The man had a few moments of unease, but having agreed for the boy to come to his house, he wasn't then going to turn him away from the door. He invited the boy in, and showed him into the lounge.

"I'll have to go and dig the backgammon set out, it's in a cupboard upstairs. Would you like a drink?"

"Could I have coffee, please?"

"No problem. Sugar?"

"One, please."

"Coming up. I'll just be a couple of minutes."

It really wasn't much more than five minutes before the boy began to pick up the rudiments of the game, and it wasn't much longer than it took for the boy to finish his mug of coffee before he won his first game, albeit that the man wasn't being too harsh with his own strategy. The boy grinned at his unexpected success.

"See, I told you it was an easy game - I've been playing since well before you were born, and you beat me within half an hour of learning to play."

"You let me win."

"Don't you believe it! I'm a competitive animal, I don't like losing. You won because you played well - you had some good luck, but you made best use of that luck. I'm impressed."

"I like to win, too," the boy said. Something in his tone of voice caught the man's attention. The mild misgivings he'd had when the boy first arrived - in fact, since he'd first seen the boy on the previous day - began to make their presence felt again.

"I'm sure you do - not many people enjoy losing, after all."

The boy looked across the table that they were sitting at, looked the man in the eye, and said in what could only be described as a seductive tone of voice, "I'm used to getting what I want. And I know what I want."

The man felt his mouth rapidly becoming dry. He swallowed involuntarily. The boy smiled slightly. There didn't seem to be much room for doubt as to what he was referring to. How old was this boy? Twelve, thirteen at the oldest. And here he was, the man thought with something akin to panic, making eyes at me. He must be joking, he can't possibly mean what I think he means. Can he? The boy's gaze was still holding the man in thrall, almost hypnotic in its intensity.

"Let's take a break from the game, " the boy continued, "come and sit on the sofa with me."

The man's mind was reeling. What did the boy want, what do I want, what do I do now? He saw chasms of trouble looming ahead, in which he could see himself being irredeemably lost, but rationality was rapidly being trumped by instinct, by desire, by the sheer magnetism of this boy and his beauty. The boy crossed the room to the three seater sofa, and the man followed him like a lost sheep. The boy sat down, and the man, almost numbly, settled himself next to the blond delight. The boy lightly slipped an arm across the man's shoulders, as a youngster might do to a close friend. The man shivered slightly at the contact, prompting the slight, enigmatic smile to return to the boy's lips.

"I like you a lot," the boy said, "you've been really kind to me."

"Thanks, but I don't think I've done anything much," the man muttered nervously. "I like you too, at least what I've seen so far."

The man had meant the remark innocently enough, but the boy seemed to pick up on the slight double entendre instantly.

"Why, do you want to see more of me?" he replied, smirking.

What little composure the man had left was rapidly deserting him. "I....didn't mean it like...."

"Like what?"

The man floundered, thrown off balance even more by what seemed to be rapidly turning into an attempted seduction by the boy. He managed to stammer a few more words.

"I meant....I like....being with you, not....um...."

"Do you like this?" The boy turned his head towards the man and kissed him, gently, full on the lips. All pretence on the part of the man evaporated, he felt almost dizzy as he returned the kiss with interest, blood rushing to his groin and sparking a near-instantaneous erection, all too obvious through the lightweight tracksuit bottoms he was wearing.

"I'll take that as a 'yes', then," the boy said, grinning delightedly. He kissed the man again, while reaching out to lightly grasp the protrusion threatening to rip through the front of the man's clothing. "Wow, that feels great, so big and hard. Can I see it?"

The man's only answer was something between a gasp and a groan, symptomatic of the turmoil he was feeling within at the ministrations of this boy. The boy, in turn, not having seen or heard anything to inhibit him, began to slip his hand under the elasticated waistband of the man's trousers. This set off all sorts of alarms in the man's head, not least the fact that anyone walking past outside might see what was going on. He gently put his hand on the boy's wrist to dissuade any further advance. The boy pouted with disappointment.

"Aww, I thought you liked it. I don't want to stop," the boy said, his frustration clear in his voice as he pulled his hand back.

The man's wits were so scattered by the events of the last couple of minutes, that it took him what seemed like an eternity to decide what to say next, how to react to the situation. In the event, what he did say had a hollow ring to it, something which was immediately apparent to the boy.

"No, we can't do this, it's wrong. It's illegal, as well."

"So what! Do you think I'm going to run off to the police? And if we both want to do it, how can it be wrong?"

"How do you know I want to do it? I've never done anything like it before."

"I think this is a pretty good clue!" The boy squeezed the man's still rigid penis, more firmly than before. Another involuntary gasp escaped the man's lips. His brief revival of restraint, of what the world at large would consider morality, was evaporating again at the touch of the boy's fingertips. Then, in a moment of complete lucidity, the man realised that not only did he want to experience more of what the boy was offering to him, but that the situation was the solution to the problem of the missing piece in his life's jigsaw, something he'd wanted without even being consciously aware of it. Stop trying to swim against the tide, he thought to himself.

"OK, you're right, I have to admit, it is a bit of a giveaway." The man smiled wryly for a moment. "You have to understand, though, how dangerous this is for me - I could lose everything, my home, my family, my freedom, even my life. If we do anything, and your dad finds out, for instance, he'd probably want to kill me, or, at the very least, have me arrested and thrown in jail for ever. I don't think it's fair to ask anyone to keep secrets for my sake rather than their own, but that's what I'm going to have to ask you to do if we're going to go any further. I'll promise never to hurt you, and never to do anything you don't want, but you, in return, have got to promise never to tell anyone, even by accident. Do you think that's a promise you can keep?"

Now it was the boy's turn to hesitate and take his time considering what to say. He'd read stories about sex between men and boys on the internet, but they were just that, stories, while this was his and someone else's real life, with real life consequences. Young as he was, he could understand why the man had spoken to him so seriously, had made the promise to him and had asked for his promise in return. Until now, it had seemed like a game, and one that he was winning at that, but, suddenly, events had taken a turn towards much more serious, grown-up waters. This is what I want, though, the boy thought, and if secrecy is the price for getting what I want, then that's what I have to do. The boy stood up, and moved so he was facing the still sitting man, looking down slightly to establish direct eye contact. He took both the man's hands in his own.

"I promise. It's really what I want to do. I know you could get into big trouble, I've read about things like that online, and there's no way I want that to happen to you. I really do like you, I'm telling the truth about that."

The man closed his eyes and sighed. The next step, if he dared take it, was going to be an irrevocable one. He gently stroked the backs of the boy's hands with his fingers, making him smile.

"Come on, then. Come upstairs with me. It's not private enough here."

Hand in hand, they walked up the two short flights of stairs. The man led his young friend past the closed door of his and his wife's bedroom without a second glance, heading for the guest room at the back corner of the upper floor, from where he'd retrieved the backgammon set just a short while before, in another life. The man closed the heavy curtains, and the room fell into a kind of twilight zone, seemingly with no physical connection to the sunlit summer world outside. The man sat on the edge of the bed, and drew the boy into a close embrace, tightly enough to feel the boy's erection pressing against him.

"You're still sure this is what you want?" The boy nodded, mutely. The man stood quickly, pulling the boy's polo shirt over his head as he rose, than sat back down and undid the metal button at the waistband of the jeans the youngster was wearing. The boy kicked off his shoes, and stepped out of his trousers as they fell to the floor, pushing them aside with his foot. He was left in just his underwear, tented outwards by his desire. The last, fragile barrier, the man thought. He looked up at the boy, questioningly, to be answered by a smile and a slight, almost imperceptible nod of assent. With breathless anticipation, the man eased the elasticated top of the garment away from the boy's skin, and slid his hands downwards, taking the tiny-looking triangle of cloth with him. Another little sidestep from the boy and push with his foot, and there he was, completely exposed, the first naked boy the man had seen since his schoolday showers after games lessons, and certainly the first he'd ever seen, or even imagined, in this kind of scenario. And what he saw was breathtaking. The boy looked infeasibly beautiful in the half light of the room, from the halo of fair hair framing his lovely face, to the end of his twitching, rock-hard penis, the tip of the glans just peeking out from beneath the longish foreskin.

"You've got to get undressed, too," the boy whispered. "I want to see all of you."

"OK." It was almost like one of those odd dreams, where one moment you're in one state, and the next in a totally different situation, as the man quickly shed his clothes. The boy looked entranced at the man's groin - the man knew he was only averagely endowed, but he could imagine that he looked huge, especially in thickness, in the boy's eyes.

"Can I touch it now? The boy sounded almost desperate.

"Soon, I want to do something nice for you first." He gently guided the boy onto the bed, laying him back with his buttocks close to the edge, then knelt between his thin thighs. Stroking the boy's chest and belly with one hand, he took the throbbing member in the fingertips of the other, very carefully easing the foreskin back to fully expose the deep red of the head. The boy sucked a sharp breath over his teeth, and the man stopped instantly, fearing he'd caused the youngster some pain. The boy guessed at the reason for the man's hesitation.

"Don't worry, it's really nice. You're not hurting me. Please, carry on."

The man resumed his slow, careful stroking of the four inches or so of smooth, warm, solid beauty in his right hand. The boy closed his eyes as the pleasure began to build rapidly - he'd masturbated often enough over the last year or more since discovering the art, but it had never been as good as this. The boy lifted his legs, and settled them on the man's shoulders, allowing the man full access to his most sensitive places. The man accepted the invitation, using his left hand to gently roll the boy's testicles between his fingers, then reaching lower down to stroke the sensitive perineum, and further still, letting his fingertips brush the pink star-like pucker between the boy's buttocks. The boy shuddered and moaned at the variety of delicious feelings emanating from the midsection of his young body, he could never have guessed it would be so fantastic, he never wanted it to stop, just to go on getting better and better. With eyes still tightly shut, he became aware of a momentary hiatus, a change of beat, then, a second or two later, gasped and wrenched his eyelids wide open in response to a brand new sensation. The hot, wet touch of lips and tongue on his raging penis, as the man took him into his mouth. The boy whimpered with delight as the man's tongue swirled around his super-sensitive glans, then cuddled the steel-hard shaft, then back to the head again. There was no way the boy could hold out against that kind of stimulation for more than mere seconds, and after two or three instinctive upward jerks of his hips, under no kind of conscious control, he arched his back to thrust his penis as deeply as possible into the warmth and moisture which had enveloped it, arched his back so far that the man reacted by placing his hands to support the base of the boy's spine, lest he damage it in his moment of abandon. The boy was unaware of anything, though, except the searing pleasure in the last inch and a half of his penis, as it spasmed and jerked in the man's mouth, again and again. The man felt every one of those spasms, the tube of flesh dancing wildly against his tongue and palate, the first two or three accompanied by little jets of the boy's immature, watery semen, dry thereafter, he continued licking and sucking until the boy groaned loudly and squirmed beneath him, the discomfort of over-sensitivity finally overcoming the pleasure. He eased his mouth away from the boy, then gently lifted him onto the bed, as he gasped for breath in the aftermath of his orgasm.

"Wow, wow, wow! That was sooo good, I've never felt anything like that in my life! Oh my God, thank you, thank you!"

The man laid down on the bed, and opened his arms to the boy, who had no hesitation in hugging him like a baby monkey clinging to its mother. The man planted a kiss on the boy's cheek. The boy smiled happily and returned the kiss in kind. As though the kiss was some kind of cue, the man felt the boy's hand wander lower, then caught his breath as young fingers grasped his pulsing erection. The boy nudged the man onto his back, then moved to sit astride the man's upper legs, working at the thick penis with both hands. The man simply gave himself up to the wonderful feelings the boy's soft hands were engendering, quickly approaching his orgasm. Eyes shut tightly as the climax washed away the world, the image his brain saw was of a flood, white on deep black, coursing towards and then over him as the pleasure took hold, long seconds when nothing else registered, just the shifting, sinuous delight. But then the sensitivity started to kick in, it all became too much, he pulled away instinctively from the smooth, smooth hands that had engendered all that bliss. As he started to come down, though, he fell away from heaven into an abyss of guilt which made hot tears well up in his eyes. What had he done, what had he done?

The boy was smiling, but his smile froze and then vanished as the tears began to trickle down the man's face. He recoiled, thinking the worst, thinking he had done wrong. Only one thing could stop the fall, could rescue them both. The man reached out and grasped a branch of deceit. He wiped his eyes.

"That was so good, so good. I didn't mean to upset you, it was just so overwhelming."

His subterfuge worked, the boy smiled again, pride now mixed with the other emotions in his young mind. The man consoled himself with the thought that he hadn't really lied to the boy, it was an overwhelming experience, just in more ways than the superficial, physical one. The boy began moving slightly against him, rubbing his renewed erection against the man's inner thigh, reassuring the man a little more, the boy really was into this. He was aware that the boy's mother would probably be back from her shopping trip soon, and might come to the house to collect her son. The boy's desire was insistent, though, and the man took him in hand once again, coaxing the unbelievably hard flesh towards another peak of pleasure. It was only a matter of minutes until he felt the penis he was caressing swell and pulse, another small spurt of ejaculate splashing onto his fingers as the boy shivered and sighed with the joy of it all. The boy slumped forward until they were laying chest to chest, and the man gently stroked the blond haired head. 

"Your mum will be looking for you soon, we'd better get cleaned up and make it look as though we really have been playing backgammon."

"Yeah, I guess so. Can we do this again, please, soon, it's just been so great."

The man knew he should say no, this was a big mistake and we should never see each other again, but he knew equally well that there was no chance of him actually saying any such thing. One taste of honey, one taste of boy, more to the point, and he was a helpless addict.

"Yes, I'd like that. I've really enjoyed it too. It might not be so easy to arrange, though - there won't be many days like this where we're both left to our own devices, what with work and school and family stuff. We've still got to be careful, there's no point in taking silly risks and being caught."

"I know, but I don't want to wait too long - you just make me feel I want more and more."

The man laughed. "You know how to make me feel good about myself, as well as just making me feel good, don't you! I don't know what I've done to be lucky enough to find you, but I'm glad that I have."

The boy grinned happily. "I'm feeling pretty lucky, too. And a bit sticky! Can I have a quick shower?"

"No problem - although I don't know what I'll tell your mum if she turns up on the doorstep. An over-strenuous game of backgammon? I don't think she'll buy that one!"

The youngster giggled hysterically. "I'll never be able to think of backgammon again without laughing! We'll have to find another game to play!"

The man kissed the boy on the tip of his nose. "Come on, let's get ourselves sorted, before we both get into trouble!"

In the event, the boy's mother didn't appear, presumably expecting the man to throw her son out when he'd had enough of him. Not that the man thought he could get enough of him, but he did send the youngster on his way at lunchtime, not wishing to give rise to any suspicions. They parted with the boy again asking for a repeat performance, but the man made it clear he'd have to be patient, but that he was also keen to see what could be arranged.

****

As things turned out, it was almost a fortnight before they were alone together again. The two families got to know each other in a more conventional sense in the interim, and the two adult women showed signs of becoming firm friends. The man wasn't overly keen on the boy's father, but how much that was because of the person himself, and how much due to the man's nervousness about any possibility of his connection to the boy coming to light was hard to say. As the man left for his late shift at work one lunchtime, the boy, who was out in the street, caught his eye.

"My mum and dad are working tomorrow, and your daughter said that her mum's taking her to town to go shopping in the morning. Can I come and see you?"

"It should be alright - what time do your parents go out?"

"Before 9:00."

"I doubt my pair will leave before 10:00, and then I'll have to leave for work by 12:00 - shall I text you once the coast is clear?"

"Yeah - that would be great! I've been wanking myself silly thinking about what happened, and looking forward to doing it again - it's still not half as good as the 'real thing', though!"

The man had been hugely aroused on several occasions by memories of their morning together, too, and grinned at the thought of a repeat performance, as well as his amusement at the boy's unabashed enthusiasm.

"Don't wear yourself out - save some for me!"

The boy giggled. "Plenty more where that came from! See you tomorrow - early, I hope!"

At 10:05 the following morning, the boy's mobile bleeped, announcing the arrival of a text message - one that consisted of just two letters , 'OK'. At 10:06, the boy was in the man's house, and by 10:08, they were naked in each other's arms in the guest bedroom. Both were so excited that it was a miracle that they lasted as long as the two or three minutes they did, boiling over together as the boy sat astride the man thrusting his rigid penis frantically against the man's bigger organ, his delirious climax triggering the man's own peak, their semen melding together in a pool of pleasure on the man's belly. The boy grinned mischievously, then dabbled his fingers in the gooey puddle before tentatively raising his hand to his mouth, his tongue flicking erotically over the fingertips as he sampled a little of their mixture of bodily fluids.

"Not bad! Doesn't taste of much, just a bit sticky. Want to try?"

The boy reloaded his fingers, and held them under the man's nose. The distinctive, slightly bleachy aroma flooded his senses, and he unhesitatingly guided the wet digits into his mouth, tasting his own semen for the first time in his life. The boy's face became wide-eyed and open-mouthed as the man suckled his fingers sensuously, while his penis, which had begun to soften somewhat, rapidly returned to full, throbbing erection. No words were necessary to introduce the next chapter of their lovemaking, as the boy shuffled higher up the man's body, coming to rest with his slim buttocks almost on the man's collarbone, positioning himself so that his boyhood could easily go where his fingers had so recently been, into the welcoming warmth provided by the man's lips and tongue. In contrast to his one previous experience of fellating the boy, the man wanted to make this one last, to savour giving the youngster as much pleasure as possible. In a gentle, almost leisurely way, he used his tongue to explore every inch of the organ that had slipped into his mouth, making the boy almost purr with delight as subtle variations in speed and pressure sent frissons of excitement through his slight frame. Although nothing had been said, the boy seemed to know instinctively that the approaching high would be enhanced if he held back as much as possible, so he made no effort, for as long as he could contain himself, to induce the man to speed up his pace, luxuriating in the lovely currents of feeling which seemed to ebb and flow through his penis and out into the rest of his body. After some minutes, though, the boy's breathing became ragged and he could no longer suppress the slight, subconscious back and forth movements his hips wanted to make, making it obvious to the man that his young friend wasn't going to be able to postpone the inevitable for much longer. The man took his cue from the boy's rising arousal, increasing the stimulation of the twitching organ, sucking more firmly, licking across the sensitive glans, tracing a path around the corona, jabbing the very tip of his probing tongue into the indentation in the head where the foreskin attaches, then sliding his lips rapidly over the most sensitive inches of the boy's body. The youngster's eyes were still open, but registering nothing, all the world seemed to be concentrated in the few square centimetres of skin the man was in contact with, and then he could bear it no longer, his penis seemed to be made of liquid joy and nothing else, an almost unbelievably deep, guttural groan forcing its way from some deep hiding place within as he melted into the most overpowering orgasm of his young life, more semen than ever before spurting fiercely into the man's mouth as he pushed himself forward, almost collapsing over the man's shoulder, then snapping back upright, then another huge spasm and then a third and a fourth, then a series of smaller jerks and twitches, all delightful in their own right, before he withdrew himself from the orifice that had given him all that ecstasy with a shudder, and rolled, completely spent, onto his back on the unoccupied side of the double bed.

Apart from the sound of the boy's breathing returning slowly to normal, the room was silent for several minutes, the man sitting up against the headboard of the bed watching the boy's lovely face basking in the warm afterglow of sexual satiation. Finally, the boy opened his eyes and smiled, gently, almost remotely, as though coming back from a long journey through a dream landscape. He took the man's hand in his, and drew it close to his heart. The man could feel the strong, steady beating against the back of his hand, epitomising the boy's life force, and underlining how close they'd become. When the boy finally spoke, it was to say something that took the man aback far more than anything he'd heard from those young lips before.

"I think I know now, what it's like to be in love."

The man's gut reaction was to tell the boy not to be so silly, it was just post-orgasmic light-headedness, but when he looked into the boy's eyes, he saw something there that reached inside and squeezed his heart - the look being trained on him was little short of adoration for his older friend. He leaned down and kissed the boy gently on the lips, almost more of a paternal kiss, but when the boy clasped his hands around the back of the man's neck to keep their faces close, then initiated a far more passionate meeting of their lips, any shadows of parental feelings were drowned in a sea of desire.

"I think I love you too, sweet boy."

"I want to show you how much I love you, lay down and let me show you."

The man obediently laid on his back, as the boy began what proved to be the most powerfully erotic fifteen minutes in the man's life. The youngster's fingers, hands, lips and tongue, his deliciously smooth and soft skin, seemed to be everywhere at once, with just enough stimulation to keep building and building the pleasure in the man's body without taking him over the edge too soon, so that when his orgasm finally came to beautiful fruition, with the boy's hot mouth clasped around the head of the man's almost painfully engorged penis, it was undoubtedly the best of the man's life, far more intense than anything he'd ever experienced with any woman. To his surprise, the boy swallowed his ejaculate without hesitation or any apparent difficulty, copious though it was, given his degree of arousal. This time, there was no trace of guilt or shame in his mind, everything, physical and emotional, just seemed so right, for both of them.

****

That day marked a step change in their relationship. Not only were they capable of giving each other mind-numbing degrees of pleasure, but they'd realised, a realisation that grew quickly over the succeeding weeks and months, that they loved each other deeply and passionately, the boy's tender years and the two decades age difference between them mattering not a jot. The man knew almost immediately that he wasn't a boylover in any generalised sense, he just loved this boy, with all his heart and soul.

The domestic situation quickly became untenable, of course, and it wasn't long before the man and his wife were drifting apart irremediably. Theirs had never been an especially passionate relationship, more companionable, so that when the man began to struggle with the secret life he was living, so much wanting someone else as that companion, there was nothing left to sustain the bond between them. He knew he was taking a huge risk, breaking up his existing family with no absolute guarantee that the boy wouldn't change his mind about their being together as he got older, however sincere their mutual declarations of undying love might have seemed, but the man knew that his current situation was just not what he wanted any more, and there was no way of disguising it. Less than a year after meeting the boy, the man packed his belongings into a hired van and left for a small rented flat, five minutes walk from where he worked. It proved to be the biggest test for the commitment between the man and his young friend and lover - rather than living 25 yards or so apart, the distance was now 25 miles, and they didn't get to see each other at all in the first few weeks after the man's move. The boy had been targeted by a girl at school, one of many attracted to his obvious good looks, and he got as far as kissing and cuddling with her in the fields just outside his village one sunny Saturday afternoon just before the long school holidays. When the girl's hand trailed between his legs, though, he abruptly pulled away from her, telling her brusquely that he didn't want anything like that, leaving her hurt and confused - surely all boys wanted to do sexy stuff, didn't they? What she didn't and couldn't know was that the boy was missing his older friend desperately, that he did want sex, but only one person in the world would qualify as the partner he wanted. When the man's phone rang a few minutes later, the boy was on the other end of the line in floods of tears, saying he wanted to get together right away, he couldn't be without him any longer. Luckily the man had finished work for the day, and was able to meet the boy less than an hour later, although it was something they'd decided they would try not to do, to minimise the chances of their secret coming to light. They sat in the man's car in a quiet back lane on the outskirts of the village for two hours, talking through their problems, and decided that they would try and engineer a meeting at the man's flat the following weekend, when the man wasn't due to be working. In the event, the reunion went smoothly, the cover story they'd concocted went without a hitch, and they enjoyed a frantic afternoon of lovemaking, the boy in particular being almost insatiable, his erection barely subsiding for what seemed like hours, wanting orgasm after orgasm, pumping his now creamy semen into the man's mouth, and over his body time and again, until there was none left in his exhausted body, and he'd reverted to the dry climaxes typical of a much younger boy.

As the boy got older, and won more independence, he and the man met much more regularly, although they still had to keep their relationship a secret, something they both found intensely frustrating, to avoid falling foul of the law, or at the very least, the boy's parents. The boy occasionally went out with girls, to films or parties, mostly by way of camouflage, but his dates were always undertaken on a friend to friend basis rather than anything passionate. He'd kept his boyish good looks as he approached his 16th birthday, and was certainly popular with the opposite sex, but always kept them at arm's length, acquiring, and to a large extent nurturing, a reputation for being shy and awkward with girls. With his man, though, he was anything but shy and awkward. He still saw himself as 'the boy', even though the man never, and indeed never had, treated him as anything other than an equal, and, in reality, he was only an inch or two shorter than his older friend, and still growing, and had overtaken the man by an inch or so in length of penis, although he was, and would always remain, rather thinner in that part of his anatomy. Their lovemaking was still, in both their eyes, totally wonderful - the boy had virtually no experience with anyone else, but the man also felt that he wouldn't know how to please anyone other than his young friend any longer, even if the opportunity arose, which, given that he hadn't looked at another person, male or female, in that way for the past three years, wasn't all that likely. One thing they'd chosen not to do, though, quite deliberately, was anal sex. They had talked about it at length, and had decided it wasn't an option for them, at least until the boy reached something close to adulthood. With his 16th birthday just a few weeks away, however, and the legal prohibition, if nothing else, about to come to an end, they began discussing the topic once more. The decision they came to was to try penetrative sex after the boy had turned 16, and see whether it suited them. Neither of them wanted to be dominant or subordinate, so they decided they would both try giving and receiving on the same night, and to that end, spent several weeks in gentle preparation, with fingers and toys, hoping to avoid having their special time spoiled by discomfort, or worse still, pain. When the time came, they both enjoyed the experience of losing their anal virginities to a point, but neither of them were massively enthusiastic practitioners of the act, preferring the play of fingers, skin, lips and tongues that they had nearly perfected over the years, although each still managed to surprise the other with something new every now and again, successfully keeping their relationship from becoming stale.

The 'boy', now nothing less than a handsome young man, was reaching the end of his school career, and with it his 18th birthday. The man had lived frugally since his divorce, and had come to an agreement with his ex-wife to pay a lump sum to help her clear the mortgage on their former family home, and also provide for his daughter's further education. Once his financial commitment to his ex-wife was taken care of, although he contributed towards his daughter's upkeep for several more years, he found himself in a position to make an offer on a nice riverside flat in the town where he worked, and which he and his young friend had viewed and fallen in love with. Two decisions had been made, and just remained to be enacted. The man was going to leave his job, and set up his own company, and would be joined by the young man, who had chosen his A - Levels to fit in with the man's new business, and that they would announce their commitment to each other on the young man's 18th birthday, which came a few days after the end of his exams. The young man's parents, and the man's daughter, were aware that their son and father respectively had stayed in touch after the man had left the village, but they had no idea of the true status of the relationship.

In the run-up to the young man's 18th birthday, he discussed with his parents how he would like to celebrate the day. Somewhat to his parents' surprise, he opted for a quiet family meal at home rather than a big party. His choice of guests was even more of a surprise - he only wanted to invite their former neighbour, and his daughter. His parents tried to ask him why he didn't want to invite any of his schoolfriends, or one or other of the girls he'd dated over the previous couple of years. He told them they would find out on the day. They knew that there was nothing going on between the young man and the neighbour girl - she was engaged to someone else, and planned to marry after her university career was complete. They remained completely nonplussed as the day approached.

The lovers faced the birthday meal with a complex mixture of anticipation, trepidation and relief. Neither had any idea how their respective family members would react. After so many years of successfully keeping their connection secret, the idea of telling the world was exhilarating, but neither had any wish to break all contact with their families, although they'd already decided that if the choice had to be made, they would choose each other.

The meal was delicious - the young man's father was an expert cook - and had been washed down with two bottles of very nice red wine, saved especially for the occasion. The young man's parents looked expectant when he announced he had something important to tell them. They knew he had a job lined up in a small town fairly locally - around 25 miles away - and was greatly looking forward to launching his career, having been told he'd be able to further his education as part of his employment. The young man stood up, moved around the table to where his lover had been sitting, took him by the hand, and led him to stand in front of his parents. Nothing more really needed to be said, but they said the words anyway.

"We love each other, and we plan to spend the rest of our lives together."

"How long....has this been...." The young man's mother's voice tailed off.

"Since the first day we met, and we embraced Suadela."

"Suadela?"

In Roman mythologySuadela was a goddess of persuasion, particularly in romanceseduction and love. She was strongly associated with Venus. (Wikipedia)


****


Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Monday, 21 February 2011

Quaesitum

Searching.
There must be a release. If the only path into the future is the current one, insanity is the inevitable destination. I have to believe that something more congenial is over the horizon, because if I despair, all is lost.

Searching.
There must be somewhere better than this, somewhere that love lives, somewhere I can find a person to care about me, somewhere abuse isn't shouted at me by the hour, just for being myself. If I don't believe that's true, all is lost.


There was love, for a long time. Where did it go? Crushed into oblivion in the black hole of life, work, bills, parenthood, familiarity breeding contempt, too little in common. The children grew, as children do, the silences grew, as silences can. When I looked again, the common ground was gone. Adrift in an ocean of alone.

There was love, I suppose. But it evaporated like a teardrop in a heatwave on that day. Fall for the 'wrong' person, don't keep it a secret, the edifice of your life can collapse in a moment. Just try defying convention and expectation, and you'll see.


Time to go, I think. I've booked a cottage, miles from anywhere, for a long weekend. I've told her I want some time to think through the issues, on my own. She's calling it a trial separation. She's probably right. There's a point you reach when you can't justify it to yourself any more.

Time to go, but where? I've no idea. At least I've got a little bit of money saved, I'm not going to be on the street, not immediately, anyway. I'd rather stay at school, finish my education, go to uni, get a good job. But not at the cost of the torture I'm suffering, every day. There's a point you reach where you can't take that any more.


Driving away from the house, the instinct is to look back. I catch myself about to do it, and force myself to keep my eyes to the front. There may be reasons to stay, but sentiment alone shouldn't be one of them. If this is to be the start of a new chapter, no point in being tied to the old. My route is planned, for this journey at least, let's get to it.

Walking away from the house, I don't feel the slightest inclination to look back. There's nothing there for me except regrets and pain. It might have been my home for most of my life, but that all came to an end when he walked into my bedroom, and found us together. From that moment on, it was just a house. I've still got no route planned, either literally or figuratively, but wherever I go, it can't be worse than here.


I've been driving for nearly two hours, and it's started raining. Great. Time for a break, I reckon. There's a small town coming up, I'll turn off the dual carriageway and see if I can find a coffee shop, or something similar. It's about the halfway point of my journey, anyway.

The bus from the village was late, so I missed my connection in town. Two hours till the next departure to the 'big city'. And it's raining. Great. Oh well, I might as well spend some of the time out of the weather. I'll go over to 'Tea Tray' and have some toast and coffee. It's a bit of a dump, but there isn't anything else round here.


Small town was right! One main street, a handful of shops, only one eaterie as far as I can see - 'Tea Tray'. And that looks empty. Still at least it's close to the car park. Any port in a storm, I've no ambition to get drenched.

'Tea Tray' is empty, just for a change. I've no idea how they make enough money to keep going. Still, that's not my problem. At least it will be warm and dry - I don't want to get drenched waiting for the bus.


It's getting really wet now. Let's get into this place before it gets any worse. Quickly, now.

Ugh, it's really started throwing it down. I need to get into this place before it gets any worse.


Head down, chin tucked into my waterproof, here's the door....oops!

Hood up, but the rain's coming horizontally into my face, at last, here's the door....oops!


I've walked straight into a hooded figure - not the Grim Reaper, I hope! No, a teenage lad, with a rucksack. I mutter an apology, and then we engage in a clumsy dance, trying to disentangle ourselves and come to some sort of tacit consensus as to who is going through the door first. He's taken half a pace back towards the pavement, so I precede him, holding the door to allow him to follow me in.

Oh shit, I've walked straight into someone. A man, fortysomething by the look of it. He's apologising, but I'm sure it was my fault, I should've been looking where I was going instead of festering about the weather, and my life in general. I step back to let him go in first, I think about walking away in my embarrassment, but he's kindly holding the door open for me, so I go inside.


The young man looks a bit embarrassed as he's coming through the door, so I smile, encouragingly, I hope, and he smiles wanly in return. He's a pleasant enough looking lad, about 16 or 17, light brown hair, eyes to match, not skinny, but not overweight either, robust looking, I suppose - wait a minute, why am I noticing this sort of stuff about him? What difference does it make to me what colour his eyes are? Now I'm feeling embarrassed, he'll think I'm some kind of weirdo if I keep looking at him like this. I tear my gaze away, in the guise of looking around the room for a suitable table.

Well, I've got inside without any more accidents. He smiled, a friendly looking smile, as he held the door for me. He looks OK, as far as I can tell - I'm rubbish at first impressions, usually - a bit younger than....him, that arsehole....but much more looked-after, not in perfect shape, but not bad for his age, just a few grey hairs amongst the full head of brown, dark eyes, a crinkle or two around the edges when he smiles. He's still looking at me, though, but turns away just as I start to think about why that might be. I hope he's not some kind of weirdo.


Now I've looked too long, I hesitate to ask the lad if he wants to join me, but, if I don't, he might think I'm being ignorant. Dilemma of the day. I ask, he hesitates in turn, but then smiles again and agrees. We take a table for four, close to a large radiator, and sit diagonally opposite each other. Might as well dry out while I'm here, I think.

The man's asking me if I'll join him. My first instinct is to say no, the years of 'stranger danger' being dinned into me coming to the surface, but I'm a big boy now, as big as him, anyway, and it's not as if he's going to jump my bones in the middle of a tea room. We have a free choice of tables, being the only customers, and sit near a nice, warm radiator. Just what I need to get the winter out of my body, if not my soul.


A lady comes out of the back room, takes our order. I bet she's thinking 'last of the big spenders', because my companion only asks for two rounds of toast and a cup of coffee, while I just want a pot of tea. The conversation between us stutters a little at first, but we introduce ourselves, he tells me he's missed his bus and has come here to kill a little time until the next one is due, while I tell him I'm en route to the moors for a weekend break, and fancied a stopover on my journey. He's 16, as I'd guessed, on his way to the 'big city', but not giving away any more than that. I wonder where he's off to on his own with a heavy rucksack on a schoolday, but it's none of my business, so I don't ask. Our food and drinks arrive, and the chitchat wanes for a few moments.

The lady who owns the place - I recognise her from a couple of previous visits - takes our order. I feel a bit awkward trying to talk to this man I've only just met, but he's amiable enough, we swap names, tell each other where we're going, but I don't say why I'm on my way to the city, and he doesn't ask. That's a relief. He's wearing what looks like a wedding ring, so I wonder why he's off for a weekend break on his own, but it's none of my business, so I don't ask.


Half an hour has gone by, our cups are empty, and, looking out of the window, the rain appears to be easing off. It should be time to make a move, but I'm enjoying the company and the inconsequential conversation, it's helping to take my mind off of why I'm here in the first place, which has to be a positive. I'm due to be heading the same way as my young acquaintance, but dilemma number two rears its head - if I ask him if he wants a lift, will he think I've got ulterior motives? My silence while I'm pondering my next move must be noticeable, because he looks up, and asks me if there's a problem.

I've finished my drink and my toast, and it's nearly stopped raining, by the look of it. It'll be time to go soon. That thought makes me a bit sad, because the man's company is nice, and chatting to him is taking my mind off of my problems, just what I need at the moment. All of a sudden, he's gone quiet, as if he's thinking about something. I ask him what's up.


What's up? Only what you might assume about me, I thought. Given that he'd divined that there might be a problem, I decide not to beat about the bush. I tell him that I'm going his way, and if he'd like a lift, at least to the outskirts of the city, I'd be happy to oblige him, but that if he'd rather not, that's absolutely fine as well and no cause for the slightest of hard feelings. I wait for his response with something akin to nervous anticipation, and somehow, and I can't work out why, I really want him to say yes.

What should I do? He's just offered me a lift to the city. It would save me a few pounds, and I haven't got that much money, but it would put me in a position that I've been told for years I shouldn't be in, riding with a stranger in his car. He doesn't look like an axe murderer, or even a molester, but then, what do those kind of people look like? Like everyone else, I'd guess. Like I said, I'm crap at judging people by appearances, but one thing makes me think he might be OK - he seems more nervous about asking me than I feel about answering. God, I've just walked out of my house this morning, intending to make my own way in the world, if I can't cope with the first person I meet I might just as well go back and let him carry on treating me like shit. Why not? Unless he's got an Uzi in his car, he doesn't look as though he could overpower me - why not assume he's genuine, rather than assuming the worst? I agree, and he smiles that friendly smile once again.


It almost didn't register for a second - he's said yes to my offer. I quickly pay the bill before he has a chance to change his mind, brushing aside his protestations that he should pay for his own order. I'm not thinking clearly, why am I so keen to keep this boy - because he is little more than a boy, after all, he's three years younger than my own son, and five years younger than my daughter - in my company? It's a question I don't even begin to have an answer to, because I've just never been in any comparable position before. I need to pull myself together - I'm only giving him a lift for twenty miles or so, then I'll be dropping him off, with no expectation of ever seeing him again. Why, then, do I have butterflies the size of pterodactyls in my stomach?

The man insists on paying my bill, he seems too keen, somehow. I'm starting to feel a bit uneasy again. Why is he so jittery? What have I let myself in for? I need to pull myself together - just because he's bought me a coffee, it doesn't make him a serial killer. Anyway, it's only twenty-odd miles to the city, half an hour, tops, then he'll drop me off, and I'll never see him again. 


We're walking to the car, no more than two minutes from the tea room, and I'm trying to calm myself down. He'll definitely think I'm out to take advantage of him if I carry on the way I'm going. I resort to that great stopgap of the tongue-tied Englishman, and start talking about the weather, how it's better now, and how I hope it stays that way for the rest of our journeys. It seems to be a case of talking so that I don't start thinking too much. Poor kid, he must think I'm losing the plot completely.

As we're walking to the car, he's rattling on about the weather. There must be something more interesting to say, surely? It suddenly occurs to me that he really is nervous about things, and that he's talking non-stop to try and cover that fact up. I don't quite understand, or maybe I don't want to understand what's going on. I hope he's calmer once he starts driving, or it could be a hairy trip.


Right, I've got to settle down now, we're in the car, the lad's rucksack is on the back seat, and I've got to concentrate on my driving. There's no way I want to end up killing us both because I'm not paying attention to what I'm doing. I make my way out of the town, and back to the main road. The traffic is light, and we make good progress. There isn't too much chat between us, compared to our time in the tea room, but as we get nearer to the city, it seems like a good idea to find out where he's heading for - it's a big place, and there are several exits from the main road we could use, no point in dumping him miles from where he needs to be. So I ask him. And then the totally unexpected happens.

Good, his driving is absolutely fine, as far as I can tell. He's concentrating, I guess, so he doesn't say too much for fifteen minutes or so. But then, as we get closer to the city, he asks me where I need to go, where would be the best place for him to drop me off. I've absolutely no idea, of course, and the hopelessness and helplessness of my situation suddenly floods into my mind, overwhelming any dams of self-control I might have had inside. For all that's happened to me over the last year, my mum leaving, him and his bullying, my friends, and most of all my special friend, deserting me after that day, I've always managed to hold it all inside. But now I can't, and before I know it, I've got tears streaming down my cheeks. I try to stop myself, but all I succeed in doing is to make it worse, to start whimpering like a baby. He's stopping the car, there's a layby.


I'm stunned. I ask him a simple question, on the face of it, and he's in floods of tears. These things don't happen for no reason, he's obviously in some kind of trouble. I can't give my full attention to driving with this going on, I need to stop. I see a sign for a layby ahead, so I pull in and stop the car. Instinct kicks in, the paternal impulse that I would have with my own children, I put an arm around his shoulders, try and comfort him somehow, say soothing words to him. He unclicks his seat belt, and buries his head against my chest and shoulder, sobbing his heart out.

Oh, I can't help it, I wish this wasn't happening, but I can't help it. He puts his arm around my shoulder, like a proper father would, he's talking to me, asking me what's wrong, sounding as though he really cares, and that makes it worse, somehow. My seat belt's undone, and I hide my face against him, like a little boy would, crying, crying, crying. 


He's starting to settle down now, the storm appears to be blowing itself out. He pulls away from me, looking ashamed, still sniffling audibly. What was that all about? Should I ask, and even if I do, would he answer? I've got to find out, I think, because if I drop him off in this state, anything could happen. I'd never forgive myself if he went and jumped off a bridge, or something crazy like that. How can I get to the bottom of this, without making matters worse?

Oh God, this is so embarrassing. He must think I'm so stupid, I only met him an hour ago, and now I've drenched his shoulder with tears. I pull back, I feel like getting out of the car and running away, but what would that achieve? He's been kind to me, and he shouldn't have to put up with me having a meltdown. There's a silence between us, I don't know where things are going to go now, what the hell is he going to say?


OK, I'm going to ask. Gently but insistently. I can't make him talk to me, but I might be able to nudge him that way. He could very easily tell me to piss off and mind my own business, and if he does, I'll have to accept that. The tears, the bulging rucksack, I'm getting the feeling that he's running away from something, home, foster care, who knows? More importantly for his immediate well being, where is he running to?

He's looking at me thoughtfully, and he's glanced at my rucksack behind us, too. Looks like he's putting the pieces of the jigsaw together. If he asks, I could tell him to mind his own business. But do I want to, or could he be someone to talk to? I feel the emotions welling up inside me again, and do my best to fight them down. I'm supposed to be growing up, not acting like a five year old.


I ask him if he's feeling any better now. He nods mutely, evidently not trusting himself to speak yet. The next question, is there anything he wants to talk about, because if there is, I'm quite happy to listen. His choice, of course. His eyes are downcast, his head moves a little and I think he's going to come up with a negative response. But then he says, very quietly, that maybe it would help to talk. He draws in a sighing breath, and looks towards me.

He's still being so nice and thoughtful and understanding to me, he asks me how I'm feeling. Then the biggie - he asks me if I want to talk about anything. I can't look at him, I still feel too ashamed of myself. I almost shake my head, but then a little voice inside of me seems to say it would be good to talk, you need to talk. There's so much inside, and here's your opportunity to get it out into the open. He might hate me afterwards, but what does it matter, he's a stranger, I'll never see him again after today, and, anyway, he can't hate me any more than him. I find it hard to speak, but eventually I manage to whisper that maybe it would help to talk. I look up at him, and take a deep breath.


I stay silent and wait for him to speak - I don't want him to think I'm pressurising him. He apologises for his outburst, I tell him that there's nothing to worry about. Another pause, as though he's screwing up his courage - and then, it all floods out of him. By the time he's finished, I've got tears in my eyes.

He's being patient, I guess, waiting for me to say something. I tell him I'm sorry about cracking up, he tells me it's no problem. I hesitate, but then like I've been prodded with a sharp stick, I start to talk. And talk. I tell him everything, as far as I understand it myself. How we used to have a happy family life, but then, when my grandad died when I was 11, how he changed almost overnight, started being horrible to my mum and to me, said he was doing what God wanted, how he wasn't going to go to hell like Grandad had, none of it seemed to make any sense, Grandad was a good man, even if hell existed, which I didn't believe anyway, there's no way he'd have gone there. Things just got worse and worse, it got to the stage when even speaking in the house would have him shouting and cursing, telling us we were damned and that Satan would have us, very soon. Then one day, I got back from school a bit early and found my mum in the kitchen, crying. I'd never seen her cry, ever. As I got closer, I could see bruises on her face, a big black eye, her eye was almost shut. I tried to ask her what had happened, but then she was shouting at me as well, telling me to mind my own business. I went to my room, then a bit later, heard the front door slam. I haven't seen my mum since that day. I know she's still alive, she sent me a birthday card, but I've heard nothing else from her, I've no idea where she is. The only person I felt I could turn to my was best friend, he listened and tried to help, then, one day last summer, when I was really upset, he hugged me - he'd never done that before. It felt so nice, I hugged him back, and one thing led to another - neither of us planned it, but in no time, we were naked in bed together, it was really exciting. After that, we had sex whenever we could, always at my house - his mum didn't work, and he had a couple of sisters, so there was never any privacy at his place - but then, in half term last autumn, he came home from work at lunchtime, ill or something, and just walked into my room while....we were doing it. All hell broke loose, there was shouting and swearing, he tried to attack us, but I was too strong, and got him out of the room. My friend quickly got dressed and left. Later that day, I tried to ring him, but he wouldn't speak to me. The next day, I went round to his house, early, but his mum said he'd gone out. It took three days before I got to see him, I caught up with him on the playing field in the village. He looked at me like he hated me, told me I was a 'queer' and that I'd tricked him into doing it, and said he didn't want anything else to do with me. I was devastated. Anything we did, it was because we both wanted it - he just felt guilty because we'd been caught, as far as I could see. That was awful. but home was worse - he spent all day, every day, whenever we were in the house together, calling me names, telling me I was a pervert, that I was going to burn n hell. There was never another attempt at violence - I guess he realised I'd fight back, and probably win, but the verbals just went on and on, all the time. I just got sick of it, and decided to leave. And that, I told the man, is how I come to be here. Well, he knows it all now. I wait, shaking, to see how he reacts.


My God, I think, what am I supposed to say to that. He's just totally opened his heart to me, and, from my experiences as a parent, in fact, just from common humanity, I know I've got to say the right thing next, or risk deeply upsetting him all over again. It's my turn to take a deep breath. I thank him for sharing his story with me, and that I can understand why he's been so upset. I hope desperately what I'm saying doesn't sound completely patronising to him. Another pause, because there's another question I feel I have to ask. I see his eyes, looking straight at me, he's expecting a question, it seems, but I don't know if it's the one in my mind. Slowly, as calmly as I can, I ask it - has he got anywhere to go?

He looks as though he doesn't know what to say - I can hardly blame him for that, what I've just told him is probably pretty hard to believe. Finally, he answers, thanks me for being honest with him and says he can understand why I'm upset. He doesn't seem to hate me, or anything, I'm relieved about that. He's going to ask me something else, I reckon - I bet he's going to ask me if I'm gay. But, when the question comes, it convinces me as much as anything that's happened in the last couple of hours that he really is a caring guy - he asks me if I've got anywhere to go. I'm welling up again, oh no!


He doesn't answer, but the tears that trickle out of his eyes are a clear enough response - he's just heading for the city as a random place to go, there's nothing there for him. That also explains why he lost it when I asked him where he needed to be dropped off - it made him realise there wasn't anywhere he needed to be dropped off. So, what to do now? If I leave him by the roadside, I know he'll be on his own, and for all that teenagers often think they know it all and can cope with anything the world can throw at them, that's not, in my opinion, a good place for him to be. What else can I offer him, though? The way things are going, I'm not going to have a home myself for much longer - my own troubles suddenly spring back into sharp relief with that realisation, darkening my mood abruptly. I don't know how - maybe just simple empathy - he seems to know immediately that I'm struggling and reaches out to put his hand on my shoulder. Maybe we've got more in common than we think.

He seems really down, all of a sudden. I don't know whether it's because of what I've told him, or whether he's got problems of his own. I'd normally feel really awkward about doing something like this, but maybe because I appreciate how kind he's been, it comes naturally - I reach across to him, and put my hand on his shoulder. If I can give him something back, I want to.


I smile, rather weakly, at the boy. We've both got some issues, I tell him - and as he's been honest with me, I decide to respond in kind. I tell him that I'm on my own this weekend because my marriage is on its last legs, and I'm going to a secluded cottage not so much to decide what to do, but to decide how to do what needs to be done, namely splitting up with my wife, as painlessly as possible for both of us. Apart from my wife herself, no-one else knows anything about this - my daughter is working overseas, and my son is at university, neither of them know as yet that they're likely to be 'children of a broken home' before long. At least they're both grown up, I tell myself by way of some sort of consolation. Consolation, I think - maybe that's what I can give, what we can give each other. In almost any other circumstances, I'd never be able to say what's in my mind to say next, but exceptional times can bring forth exceptional responses. I ask him, as he's evidently got nowhere to go, whether he wants to come to the cottage with me. I rather blurt it out, without thinking too much about the consequences, but now it's said, I can't unsay it - if he thinks I'm a potential rapist, then that's what he thinks.

I'm pretty shocked. Whatever else I might have expected the man to say, it wasn't what's just come out of his mouth. He's splitting up with his wife, and he's invited me to his weekend cottage. Never mind what I might think of him, he doesn't know that I'm not some kind of psycho. My head is screaming 'No, no, no!', but my heart is whispering 'Yes, why not?'. I tell him I need to think about it, but, really, what is there to think about? I haven't got anywhere else to go, apart from spending most, if not all of my money staying in a hotel. Or on the streets? It's a no-brainer, isn't it?


Not surprisingly, he tells me he needs time to think about my proposition. I'm glad, it shows he's got a bit more about him than the stereotypical heedless teenager, if nothing else. There's an almost palpable silence in the car, and I really can't divine what his answer will be. Whatever it is, I'll have to accept it, in spite of my misgivings about what might happen to him if he's alone.

I've never been in this position before, making a serious decision all on my own, with only my own knowledge and life experience, such as it is, to guide me. Walking out of my house was almost a reflex in comparison. It gives me a preview, in a way, of what it's like to be independent, adult. And it's not easy. Like I said before I got in his car, what seems like eons ago, he's no bigger than me, it's not as if he can force me to do anything I don't want to, I'm not a child, even if I'm not 100% fully grown. And he's shown no signs of being anything other than a genuine, caring person, anyway. Like him, maybe what I need is time to think about what to do next. I'll go with him, why not? I tell him what I've decided, he smiles and looks relieved.


We're driving again, but there's no need now to stop off in the 'big city'. We stay on the bypass road, and head for the moorland area where the cottage is. I feel at home around here, I lived in this area for more than a decade, either side of my marriage, before we had to move with my job, spent many of my weekends walking on the hills and visiting the country pubs round about. One of my favourites is not far from where we are now, and I ask the boy whether he fancies lunch. Asking a teenager if he wants to eat, daft question! We decide that if anyone asks, he's my nephew, and we're here for a weekend's hiking. Not that we're likely to see anyone either of us knows, but at least we're singing from the same hymn sheet.

I haven't been in many pubs, but this is a really good one. Great food, a big open fire, views across the moors and right down to the estuary where the city is. We're chatting away like old friends now, getting to know each other properly. I haven't felt as happy as this for months, if not years. Just think, if the village bus had been on time this morning, I'd have been mooching about the city on my own, feeling sorry for myself. 


I collect the key to the cottage, as arranged, from the shop in the nearest village, but that's a good two miles from where we'll be staying. This really is getting away from it all, in spades - which is why I chose it, of course. We pick up a substantial load of groceries, as well - there's a growing lad to cater for, now! The pictures of the cottage on the internet gave the impression of the place being basic, but comfortable enough, and that proves to be the case, two bedrooms, a double and a single, upstairs, a kitchen, lounge and shower room downstairs. Electric heating and cooking facilities. All working, no undue worries. A place to chill out, to think....to talk?

Wow, this place really is in the middle of nowhere! Nothing in sight except hills and sheep, and the lane heading down the valley. It'll be dark soon, and then it'll feel as though we've really left the world, and all its hassles, behind.


We chat, we eat, we chat again. There's a definite feeling that we're on the same wavelength, at least from my point of view. I hope he feels the same.

It's nice to just relax and be in the company of someone who's pleasant and doesn't want to rant at me. I'm enjoying being with him, I hope he feels the same.


It's late, bedtime looms, but I'm finding it hard to say goodnight. The butterflies are back, and I still can't really work out why.

I'm weary, but somehow it's been such a good day, compared to most I've had lately, that I don't want it to end. I look across at him, and get the feeling he's thinking along the same lines.


We move simultaneously, one thought in two minds, or so it seems. We come together, melt into a warm embrace, no words are necessary. What happens next, neither of us knows yet, but could it be that we've found the object of our search, the solution to our problem? Anything's possible.


****


Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Tuesday, 8 February 2011

Leaving

You're leaving, my soul groans with pain
But, truly, I'm the one to blame
Mine to lose, the world yours to gain
One way love's a loser's game
Tears fall, but the departing train
Reminds me you can't feel the same

Now I'm on my own
The aching inside full grown
Seeds of hurt are sown

****

I know it's a load of crap, but it's the best I can manage at the moment.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Wednesday, 2 February 2011

Brink

Teetering on the edge of the abyss, drawn to the prospect of falling by an almost irresistible force, just hanging on to solid ground by the last vestiges of rationality. Find the one, have sex, pay the money, then swallow the pills. Game over. What an appetising prospect that seems, compared to the rest of my life lived like this. This costume of deceit has become an all-encompassing, suffocating blanket. I need to throw it off while I've still got the strength to do so, before I drown in a sea of self-loathing and frustration. An hour of my life when I can truly be me, then the fall of the curtain. Those left behind won't understand, might hate me for what I'll have done, but if they'd had to live my life, they might at least have some sympathy. Or maybe not. There's sympathy for the devil, but none for the likes of me.

Hello, sweet boy. Are you the one?

****

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B