Parallel

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

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

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

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