Life

When all you can see is trouble and strife
Don't make the mistake, no matter what you do
Of caring about your life
Because life doesn't care about you

****

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Optimal

Author's note: This story includes explicit sexual content, involving descriptions of 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.


****



'All's for the best in the best of all possible worlds' wrote Voltaire, albeit ironically through the vehicle of an implausibly optimistic character. It couldn't have been further from how I was feeling, ironic or not, on that day. My life had fallen to pieces, spectacularly, over the previous three months, my marriage had imploded after I'd contrived to 'come out', unintentionally, to my wife, while my daughter, who I loved to distraction, had unexpectedly chosen to stay with her mother, and, on top of that, our finances, never healthy, had collapsed in the wake of my wife resigning from her job, leaving me on the brink of both divorce and bankruptcy, living alone in a small room in Surrey close to where I'd been working for the previous year and a half, a job I'd taken, to stack irony upon irony, to keep our finances and thus, hopefully, our family, together and happily provided for. I tried to convince myself that things could be worse, but, most days, including the day in question, I couldn't see how. But then the thing that I wanted the most, but had thought was the least likely to actually happen in real life, came to pass.

I'd known since puberty that I was gay, but had fought against that knowledge with all my heart and soul, for years. Especially as it became apparent to me, as I progressed through my teenage years, that the objects of my attraction were the same 12, 13, 14 year old boys that had first entranced me when I was 12 or 13 myself. I did briefly enter a relationship with an older man when I was 16, but quickly realised that it wasn't in any way what I wanted, a fact underlined when I fell in love, real love, for the first time at 17 - with a 13 year old boy at my school. It could never come to fruition, because he was straight, and I even lost him as a friend, which he had been, when he worked out that my feelings towards him ran deeper than just friendship. That was the first of many desperate disappointments and frustrations in my emotional life over the next ten years or so, until I met the woman who I thought was my saviour from myself, the self-justification I'd been searching for, that I wasn't really a 'filthy paedo' after all, and who, some eighteen months after our meeting, through mutual friends, in a Manchester pub, became my wife. I told her about my doubts over my sexuality, albeit not about the fact that boys were involved, and she told me - she didn't ask me, she told me - that I wasn't gay. She had gay friends, and what she said was what I wanted to hear, so I gleefully accepted her assertion at face value, and set off on the road that led to our wedding. And I did manage, largely, to suppress my real self for many, many years. It was always there, though, waiting to trip me in unwary moments - even at our wedding reception, I found myself smitten by a beautiful boy of 12 or so, a nephew or cousin, I never did find out which, on my wife's side of the family. And then the coup de grace fell, in the shape and form of another delightful boy, barely 11, in the small town where I worked, and who I fell helplessly in love with. It was all totally one-sided, I exchanged no more than a dozen platitudinous words with him in four years, but it was still the beginning of the end of my marriage, the final cut coming when my depressed mood during a lengthy telephone call led to my wife, finally, asking me if I was gay, and my feeling compelled to give her an honest answer. So here I now was, the 'wrong' side of 50, having known I was not only gay, but a boylover, for the best part of four decades, back on my own, and with absolutely no prospects, ever, as I saw it, of finding what I wanted.

But then I met Simon.

Having little else to do on that sunny Sunday afternoon, I'd meandered aimlessly around London, watching the world go by from the top deck of various buses, hoping to espy a little 'eye candy' here and there, a hope, despite the warm weather, that had proven to be in vain - there were droves of people about, but none of them, seemingly, were attractive pubescent boys. They must all have been locked up for their own protection - from the likes of me, I thought miserably. After three hours or so, I'd had more than enough, and decided to decamp to a pub close to where I worked for a couple of cold beers, before catching the train back to my new 'home', unhomely though it was. The pub concerned had a small outside seating area, adjacent to the pavement, full to overflowing with sun-seeking drinkers, but I eventually managed to find myself a niche in the corner, and settled myself to enjoy my pint and the early evening warmth. My mind was comfortably in neutral, a good a way as any, I'd found, to evade my troubles for a while, as I idly gazed, without really looking, at the passers-by. Given my distraction and inattention, I almost missed him. It was the blue that caught my eye initially, the deep blue of the shirt he was wearing, a replica shirt of the local lower league football team. In the next few seconds, though, the shirt was forgotten, because everything else about him was so perfect. He was just stunning, 12, maybe 13, not too tall, but obviously not a little boy anymore, light brown hair, lovely face, greenish eyes, I noticed, as he came closer. I was far more obvious in looking at him than I normally would have been, perhaps because I'd been in such a vacant frame of mind before. He noticed. But, to my amazement, he smiled. Smiled at me, the fat old bloke eyeing him up. Before I had time to think, I was smiling back.

"Hi."

"Hello," I replied. Just to say something, I alluded to the garment that had first attracted my attention. "Don't see too many of those shirts about, even round here. Do you go to the games much?"

"When I can - my dad used to go when they played at the old ground, he got me into it, I guess." I was wearing a polo shirt which declared my allegiance to a different team, in a different sport, in a totally different part of the world. He looked at the badge on the left side of the chest part of my shirt, then back at my face. "What team's that, I don't recognise the badge?"

I mentioned the team's name. He looked totally nonplussed. "Where do they play?"

"Melbourne."

"Where?"

"Australia. They're an Aussie Rules team."

"You're Australian, are you?"

"No. Born and bred English, never been anywhere near Australia in my life."

"Why do you support them, then?"

"I liked the sport from when I was your age, they used to show highlights occasionally on TV. I was a big fan of one particular player, and this was the team he played for. And the rest is history, as they say."

"What's it like, Aussie Rules? I don't think I've ever seen it."

"A bit like a cross between rugby and the Gaelic football they play in Ireland. I just think it's a really exciting game. They show quite a bit of it on satellite TV these days. And you can find film of it online, too, on Youtube, and places."

"Yeah, I might have a look sometime. It sounds interesting." Out of the blue, he took our nascent friendship to the next stage. "What's your name? I'm Simon."

"I'm Tony. Look, Simon, I'm just going to get another drink. Do you want something?"

He hesitated, as though his parents' warnings about talking to strangers were playing themselves in his head. I guessed the reason for his reluctance.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to kidnap you, or anything. Too many people about for that, even if I wanted to, which I can assure you I don't."

He smiled crookedly. "Sorry, I didn't really think you were like that....it's just...."

"Yeah, I know, 'stranger danger'. I guess you've heard about it at home and school. If you're not happy, I understand. I don't want to scare you."

"No, it's good. Could I have an orange J₂O, please?"

"Sure. Can I leave my bag with you for a minute while I go to the bar?"

"Course. I'll keep the seats, too."

"Great. Yeah, sit yourself down, I'll be back as soon as I can."

****

And that, after 40 years, was how easy it was. Unbelievable, I thought later, all the years of pain, of self-denial, of hiding, of the frustration of never achieving any sort of fulfillment of the person I knew myself to be, and then one of the most beautiful boys I've ever seen falls, almost literally, into my lap. And it quickly became apparent that Simon and I had far more in common than the love of sport and sunny days that had formed the initial bond between us. We exchanged mobile numbers and e-mail addresses that first afternoon, and were soon in touch almost daily. The school summer holidays had just begun, and we arranged our second meeting on a Tuesday afternoon, which happened to be my day off that week, and a day when his parents were working and had left him to his own devices. He was waiting for me outside the station, and grinned broadly when I emerged from the building.

"Hiya, Simon. Good to see you again!"

He was looking, if it were possible, even more delicious than he had on that first Sunday, dressed in a light green t-shirt and a pair of creamy coloured knee-length shorts, showing off his silky smooth, hairless shins and calves, and lightly tanned face and arms to great advantage.

"Hi, Tony. I've been looking forward to it!"

"What do you fancy doing, sunshine?"

"Dunno. We could go up to the Common for a walk, maybe."

"Yeah, sounds good. Let's get a bus up the hill, though - you've got to remember I'm an old man, I don't do hills too well these days!"

He giggled. "OK, Grandad! Shall I have a wheelchair waiting for you at the other end?!"

"Yeah, why not - you can push me around, keep yourself fit!"

"In your dreams! You can walk, you lazy sod!"

"Oh, alright then, if you insist!" Our eyes met, and for the first time, his glance lingered. He smiled, shyly, before dropping his gaze to his shoelaces. "Come on, then, let's go and find our London Transport limousine!"

It was another warm day, and after wandering around the Common for the best part of an hour, we declared a break. We walked back to the shopping area, the 'Village', as they called it, and bought ice creams and cold drinks from the local supermarket, before making our way back to the edge of the Common, near the war memorial, and finding a bench to sit down. After a few minutes of the general chitchat that had accompanied our walk, there was a noticeable hiatus on Simon's part, as though he was carefully considering what to say next.

"Tony....if I ask you something....something personal, will you promise not to be cross?"

"Yeah, sure, but on one condition."

"What's that?"

"That if I give you an honest answer, you won't be angry with me."

From his demeanour, and from one or two clues in the e-mails he'd sent me, I had a feeling I knew what he was going to ask.

"OK, that's a fair deal. What....what I want to ask is...." His words stumbled to a halt.

"It's OK, Simon, really. If you want to ask, please do. If not, that's fine too."

As though he didn't want to give himself too much thinking time, he blurted the question out. "Are you gay?"

"Yes, Simon, yes I am. I'm not into men, though." He looked at me, perplexed. "What I mean is, I like boys, boys around your age. If you're not comfortable with that, tell me. But please don't be frightened, there's no way, no way at all, I'd ever do anything to you that you didn't want. I like you, Simon, a lot, I'd like to stay friends with you. I'd understand, though, after what I've just told you, if you just want to walk away and go home. If you do, I promise I'd never bother you again." There were tears in my eyes by the time I'd finished my little speech, I had to take several deep breaths to keep my emotions in check. I'd lost so much in the previous few months, the idea of losing my connection to this wonderful boy before it had really even begun was almost overwhelming.

"I'm gay, too. At least, I'm pretty sure I am." His voice was small, hesitant. He was looking down at his shoes again, as though he might find inspiration there. "I used to be scared by it, Tony, I didn't want to be gay. I've read quite a bit of stuff about it on the net, though, I know I can't make it go away."

"Simon, if you really are gay, you're right, you can't make it go away. It's just part of who you are, like the colour of your eyes, or whether you're right or left handed. I know, I really know, at least some of how you're feeling. I was where you are, when I was 12, 13, realising that it was the boys who I was interested in, who turned me on, never the girls. I hated it, I had no-one I could talk to, I thought I was the only boy in the world who felt the way I did - there wasn't even the internet to turn to in those days. I ended up pretending it wasn't true, and got married, and all that - I've even got a daughter, a couple of years older than you - but it was never what I really wanted, and when my wife found out, a few months back, our marriage was over, more or less straight away. Twenty-odd years of my life, gone, just like that. But it was my fault, no-one else's, because I hadn't been honest. Even with myself. You're still young, though, and I don't think you have to decide you are definitely one thing or the other yet."

"I know that, I'm not 13 until October, but I have thought a lot about it. I was like you, I guess, I knew, even while I was still at primary school, that I liked boys a lot more than girls." He looked up at me again. "And some men, too."

I must have looked more than a little surprised, because he chuckled a little. "I like you, too, Tony. I wouldn't be here if I didn't. I wouldn't be here if I thought you were going to drag me off and rape me, or something, either. I might just be a kid, but I'm not bloody stupid!"

"If you were 'just a kid', Simon, I wouldn't be here! God, if you knew how many years I've wanted to meet someone like you, you'd know for sure there's no way I'd do anything to put that in jeopardy. If we can just be friends, that's far more than I thought I could hope for."

"I reckon we can be friends, definitely. Let's see how it goes, yeah?"

"That sounds good to me, Simon." More than good, I thought, bloody wonderful is more like it. "Shall we walk a bit further?"

"Yeah, that would be good. Let's go and have a look at the posh shops in the Village."

****

My job, in a 24/7 industry, involved shift and weekend work, which, in those early stages of my friendship with Simon, was actually advantageous. During the long summer school holiday, he was left to do his own thing during weekday working hours on three, sometimes four days a week, depending on his mum's part-time work schedule. Whichever shift I was working, we could usually find a time to get together, even if only for an hour or two before or after my working day. After having met up six or seven times over the course of a fortnight, we were, it seemed to me, beginning to draw closer to each other, as though both of us had found something in the relationship that we needed as much as wanted. I'd had my terrible few months at the start of the year, while Simon, although certainly not an abused or neglected boy in a physical or material way, gave the impression of one who had been starved of love and affection, and not just recently. As had been the case on the day we met, he took the initiative in moving our connection along another step. We were in a quiet café in a park a bus ride away from my work and his home area, discussing what we could do the following day, my day off.

"Do you live near the station in your town, Tony?" Simon asked.

"Yeah, about ten minutes walk, I suppose."

"I was wondering....my mum's working all day tomorrow, maybe....I could come down to your place, for a change."

I couldn't suppress a little shiver of anticipation, however determined I was not to push Simon in any direction not of his own choosing.

"If you're happy to do that, and you're not going to get into any trouble with your parents, that would be great, Simon. I'll cook you lunch, if you like."

"My mum and dad won't bother that much." There was more than a hint of sadness, almost bitterness, in his voice. "I'll keep my mobile on, then if they want, they can call me. I'll just tell them I decided to go for a train ride. Are you a good cook, Tony?"

"Not brilliant, but OK. Anyway, you should be the one to judge, after you've sampled my cuisine!"

"What are you going to make?"

"Well, I like Spanish food, so I'll probably do paella, and a few other odds and sods. Will that be alright?"

"Yeah, I had that on holiday a couple of years ago, it was nice."

"It's a deal, then! What time do you want to come down?"

"About 10:00, is that OK?"

"Yeah, great! I'll meet you at the station, just text me and let me know which train you're on."

****

The following morning, I was waiting in the booking hall at my local station, almost unable to keep still, trembling with nervous energy. I'd bought Simon's train ticket for him the previous day as we headed to our respective homes, and he'd duly sent me a text half an hour or so earlier, telling me he was just leaving the station at his end. I'd replied, letting him know where I'd be, and could then do no more than wait. The time of the train's expected arrival had passed by a few minutes, but there was no sign of the boy. It was a fair trek from the platform where the train had come in to the ticket barriers, but I was starting to think he might have changed his mind, and turned back for home - after all, this would be the first time we'd have been together in private, and I could well imagine, bright lad as he was, how that prospect might have been, if he'd considered it, a step too far for him. I'd just taken my mobile out of my pocket with a view to sending him a text, when that same flash of blue which had caught my attention three Sundays earlier came into view. He was wearing his football shirt again, beneath an unzipped lightweight waterproof jacket. He smiled, with that little hint of shyness he sometimes affected, when he saw me.

"I was just about to send out a search party! I'm glad you made it, though, Simon, how are you?"

"I'm good. I went to the wrong exit, sorry. When I couldn't see you, I asked the station man if this was the main exit, and he said no, I had to go back over the footbridge. So here I am!"

"No need to apologise, you've never been here before, no reason why you should know the layout of the station. I'm just pleased you're safe and sound."

"Are we going to go to yours, Tony?" It wasn't an especially nice day, rather grey and drizzly - the great British summer, yet again! - so outdoor activities weren't overly appealing.

"Yeah, sure, if you're happy with that. I just need to call into the supermarket to pick up a couple of bits and pieces for lunch on the way, if that's OK - I did most of the shopping yesterday, but they didn't have any mushrooms, and I wanted to get a fresh baguette, too."

"That's fine. Come on, let's get going, before the rain gets any worse."

Half an hour later, the food purchases bought and stored in the communal kitchen at my accommodation, I showed Simon into my small room. The door closed behind us, with a gentle click that managed to sound thunderous in the quiet space. He turned to look at me, biting his lower lip a little, seemingly anxious. I knew I needed to speak, but my own thoughts were far from calm, and I struggled to find the right words. After an awkward hiatus of a few seconds, we both started to speak at the same time.

"Simon, I...."

"It's only a little room...."

Our crosstalk broke the ice. We both laughed out loud.

"Sorry, Tony, say what you were going to say."

"I was going to say....well, you looked very nervous. I just wanted to say that....nothing's different here - you've got nothing to fear from me, just because....we're on our own, doesn't mean I'm going to hurt you, or try and force you to do anything you don't want. If I do something, or say something, that makes you uncomfortable, will you tell me, please? I won't be upset, I promise."

"That....that wasn't what I was worried about, Tony. It's....kind of....the opposite, actually."

I genuinely didn't understand what he was getting at, and my confusion must have been obvious, because Simon evidently thought he needed to explain further.

"It's....well, I've found this....website. With lots of stories on it. And some of the stories have made me think about....what I might like to do. But I don't want to upset you....by asking for something you might not....be interested in. I don't want you to get angry with me, and tell me to go away."

I felt an instinctive surge of something almost indefinable inside me, hope, expectation, trepidation, desire, all flowing together and sending shivers down my spine - could it be the website I visited almost daily? Surely not. Rationality quickly reasserted itself, my head telling me not to be so stupid, he couldn't possibly mean what had come into my mind. I tried, as far as I could, to stay calm, and keep my words neutral.

"I don't think there's much chance - in fact, I don't think there's any chance at all - that I'll be angry with you, Simon, whatever you say," I told him gently. He looked up at me, still with an unaccustomed serious look on his young face.

"Can....can I tell you what I've been thinking of, then?" His voice was little more than a whisper.

"Of course, sunshine. Shall we sit down first, make ourselves comfortable?" He nodded, and settled into my single armchair, while I sat on the bed, facing him.

Simon drew a big breath, visibly trying to compose himself. The swirl of feelings started up inside me again, and I gulped in a deep breath of my own.

"Tony, what it is....well, some of these....stories I've been reading are about....about....boys and men....doing stuff, together." I looked at him, questioningly. "You know....sex stuff." He hesitated again. "I wondered....whether....you might want to...." His voice tailed off. I waited, watching his face running through what seemed to be a gamut of emotions. I resisted the temptation to speak, to put words in his mouth, ideas in his head.

"Tony...." Another lacuna, but only a momentary one this time, before the words rushed out of him, almost, seemingly, in one solid block. "Tony, will you do sex stuff with me? I want to know what it's like, I want you to teach me. That's why I asked to come here, because I hoped you would want to, because I know you like me a lot, and I like you a lot, too. Can we, please?"

I was stunned into silence. However much I had hoped for this moment, over all the long, lonely years of hiding, of suppressing my real self, of burying my desires beneath mountains of societal norms and expectations, I had, because I'd never thought it would ever really happen, no idea of how to respond. As the seconds passed, a titanic battle between what seemed like two diametrically opposing forces played itself out in my mind, the thought of 'here's a wonderful boy who I like very much, maybe even love, freely offering me a shared, consensual experience we both want and need, why can't we follow our hearts?' up against the product of years of ingrained guilt and shame, the thought of 'you're nothing but a worthless paedo taking advantage of a vulnerable child, do it and you'll ruin his life'. A quick movement shook me out of my stasis. Simon had obviously taken my lack of response as rejection, and was heading for the door, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"S....sorry, Tony, I've ruined everything. I'll go home. Sorry."

"Simon....Simon, please don't go, please!"

"But....but I've upset you, I must have."

"No, Simon, no, you haven't. It's just....oh, sweet boy, it's such a long, long story, it goes right back to when I was younger than you are now. Don't go, I don't want to lose you, I couldn't bear it." It was my turn to feel my eyes fill with tears, and, despite my best efforts to hold back, the moisture began to seep out onto my face.

"Give me a hug, Simon, please." I sat on the edge of the bed, and opened my arms to him. No hesitation this time, he almost threw himself into my embrace, and I wrapped him up, while he hugged my neck as though he never wanted to let go, his face pressed against my shoulder. Had anyone suggested this to me in advance, I'd never have believed it, but despite the fact that I was holding him as closely as was possible, there was no physical arousal at all, everything seemed to be overwhelmed by our shared emotion, the only sensation I had was of delightful warmth and connection, of my love flowing over him, and his over me. It seemed to me to be one of the deepest, most significant moments of my life, something I'd waited for, wanted for so long, and, despite all the years of longing, of imagination, it wasn't in any way an anticlimax - if anything, it was even more wonderful than I could have expected. Tears trickled from the corners of my eyes again, but, this time, the defining emotion was pure happiness. Simon looked up at me after a few moments, and once again looked nervous and uncertain. I was just on the point of releasing him, thinking I'd gone too far, too fast, but then, before I had time to speak, or even to think in any organised way, he leaned forward, and pressed his thin lips gently against mine. It was just a little kiss, a mere second or two of fleeting contact, but it seemed, somehow, to be the final piece of the puzzle, to cement a special bond between us. He pulled away a few inches, smiling, even though his own tears were still in evidence, while I sighed deeply.

"Again?" Simon asked.

By way of an answer, I drew him back towards me, and we kissed again, this time much more passionately. I felt the tip of his tongue flick against my lips, and quickly reciprocated. Within a matter of seconds, we were engaged in a full-blown, tongue-battling French kiss, and now the physical response did kick in for me, rapidly and powerfully. I rolled back onto the bed, easily manoeuvring Simon's light body on top of mine, without breaking our kiss for a second. His mouth tasted infeasibly sweet, his tongue like a delicious warm strawberry, with undertones of mint, from his toothpaste, presumably. On and on it went, to the point where we had to break apart, both gasping for breath.

"Wow!" Simon grinned from ear to ear. "That was amazing!"

"You're not kidding! That was the most fantastic kiss of my whole life, bar none!"

"So....do you want to, Tony? Do it with me, I mean. Get all undressed, and everything!"

His excitement, his desire, was obvious. Still I hesitated, though, decades of suppression weighing me down. His face began to fall again, and I knew I had to find a way to reassure him that he wasn't being rejected.

"Simon....I....I'd love to do it with you, but...." My words ground to a halt.

"But what?"

"You say you've read stories. Yes?" He nodded. "So you know what you're asking for, what you want us to do, is not just illegal, but absolutely hated by huge chunks, the vast majority, of society?"

He nodded once more, biting his lip as though he was fighting back tears again.

"I wouldn't tell...." he began.

"That's not what I'm worried about, Simon. There are two things I'm concerned with. One is what would happen to you if anyone found out about us, by accident, or whatever. I'd probably end up in jail, for a long time, but that isn't the issue, that would be my problem, not yours, I'm old enough and ugly enough to take responsibility for that. It's the fact that you'd be dragged into all sorts of unpleasant consequences, police, social services, school, your parents, your friends, all on your case. It could mean you being hurt, really hurt, emotionally, or even physically. I'm sure you've heard of, maybe even seen, gay teens being bullied. There's just no way I'd want any of that to happen to you because of me."

"You said there were two things, Tony," Simon said as I hesitated again.

"Yeah, I did....the other thing is....just....selfish, though."

"Tell me, please, Tony."

"It's....well, it's that I'm just finding it hard to believe that such a lovely, special boy as you would really want to even be close to me, never mind wanting to have sex with me. Like I said to you before, it's such a long story, I've been waiting so long for something like this to happen to me. It's like a dream, and I'm afraid I'm going to wake up any minute. And if we were to do it, there would be no going back, it couldn't be undone, and I don't know whether I could cope with it if you changed your mind about what had happened later, even if you think it's really what you want right now. I'm trying not to get too heavy about all of this, but I'd much rather have you as a friend for years, than as a lover for a few days, or weeks, until you have second thoughts. I know I'm putting all sorts of pressure on you, and I'm sorry for that, but I really...." I stopped myself, before I said the unequivocal word.

"Really what, Tony?" the boy asked gently, but insistently. He knows what I was going to say, I thought. As if in confirmation, Simon looked into my eyes, without any hint of his usual shyness at too much eye contact. "Say what you were going to say, Tony, please, I really want you to."

I gulped nervously, still finding it hard for my mind to command my tongue.

"I....I love you, Simon," I whispered.

"I know. I love you too, Tony. I've never been in love before....but I am now, really. And I know I want to love you, and I want you to love me, every way. Sex is the best way of two people showing how much they love each other, right?"

"Well, I would say it's one of the best ways, but you can love, really love someone without having to have sex with them."

"OK, I guess that's true, but I know what I want to do, and I want to do sex stuff with you. Because I love you, and you love me. Please, Tony, I've never wanted anything more in my life."

Any resistance still remaining within me melted away, and I reached up, drawing him gently back towards me. We kissed again, just lips on lips this time, tenderly, lovingly.

"Undress me, Tony," the boy whispered into my ear. "It'll all be OK, I just know it."

I'd fantasised many, many times over the years, about what it would be like to be in bed with a naked boy, but the reality proved to be so much more intense than I'd ever imagined. I gently removed his clothes, as unhurriedly as I could manage. Simon's body was slender, but not skinny, with the beginning of firm musculature beneath the surface, evidence of the start of his journey towards manhood. His skin was like silk, almost hairless beyond a few soft strands above his penis. I devoured it all with my eyes for long, timeless moments, until Simon broke the spell with an urgent whisper.

"Touch me, Tony, please. I can't wait any longer!"

I reached out tentatively, hesitantly, towards his lovely penis, Simon lifting his hips slightly off of the bed, by way of encouragement and reassurance, it appeared. The thin, four inch shaft was so hard when I gently squeezed it between finger and thumb that it didn't seem to compress at all, the pale foreskin partially retracted allowing a glimpse of a glans so aroused that it was almost purple, a tiny, silvery drop of moisture glistening at its apex. I began to masturbate him, very slowly and rhythmically working the foreskin back and forth, watching his lovely face, flushed with colour, his eyes closing and his lips parting just a little as the pleasure began to build in his body. He began to squirm slightly, and push his hips upward once more as if to force more of himself into my hand, and I caught a whiff of his scent, intoxicating, quintessentially boy, as the heat of his body increased with his excitement. More pearlescent natural lubricant seeped from within him as his breathing began to quicken and become more irregular, and I carefully, so carefully, swiped the fluid across the head of his penis with the ball of my thumb, causing his eyes to snap open and a huge gasp to escape him. Still I maintained the same slow, precise stroking, until he groaned, deeply, almost unconsciously, and burst into orgasm, a few tiny drops of almost clear semen spitting several inches into the air and spattering onto the base of my thumb as I continued to milk the pleasure from his body. He groaned again, writhing beneath my hand, and I guessed he was reaching the over-sensitive stage, so I slowed my caresses to a standstill, merely holding his still almost impossible hardness lightly between my fingers, feeling a few last, vagrant twitches ripple through his flesh.

"Oh, Tony, it's never been like that! It felt totally different, a hundred times better than when I do it to myself. What happened, it felt like I was peeing at the end!"

"You ejaculated, sweetie. Hasn't that happened to you before?"

"E....what?"

"Ejaculated. Made semen when you came."

"Semen? You mean spunk? I squirted spunk? Really?!"

"Yeah, really! Not a lot, but it was there. It's here, actually." I held my hand out towards him so he could see the evidence. He took my hand in his, looking, entranced, at the drops of liquid on my skin.

"Oh, wow! Oh, thank you, thank you, Tony! My first spunk! Wow! It felt so great!" He scrambled astride me, and clasped my neck again, kissing me almost fiercely. "I want to do it again! Can we?! You get undressed too, so I can make you feel good as well. Please, Tony!"

His excitement, the boyish impetuosity, was impossible to resist, and, after he'd released me from his embrace and flopped down on his back on the bed, it was only a matter of seconds before I'd stripped to my underwear. At which point the demons resurfaced in my head. 'You're vile, disgusting, leave him alone', echoed in my mind. I sat on the edge of the bed, shaking uncontrollably. For all his youth, Simon sensed immediately that something was badly wrong.

"Tony? What's the matter?"

"I....we....we shouldn't do this, Simon. You'll end up being hurt, and I can't bear the thought of that. I'm just a child molester, the scum of the earth. You....you'd be much better off if you go home and never see me again. I'm sorry for what I've done to you, I should have known better, I...."

I was cut off by the feeling of body warmth behind me, two arms slipping around my chest, soft lips nuzzling against my ear.

"Tony....the world might think you're a child molester, but I don't. I want this, I asked you, don't forget. Come on, please, Tony, please. Love me, make me feel good again, let me make you feel good. I don't care what anyone else thinks. I love you, I know you love me, and that's all that matters to me."

The boy placed the palm of his hand on my cheek, and gently turned my face towards his own. Tears had begun to seep from the corners of my eyes, which he kissed away, before pressing his lips sensuously against mine once again. Once more, his tongue snaked out, brushing my closed lips, causing me to open my mouth instinctively, allowing him to burrow within. The smell and taste of him were almost too much to comprehend, addictive beyond words. And there were no more words, he pulled and nudged at me until I was lying on my back, before tugging at the elastic waistband of my underwear. I lifted my hips to allow him to remove the garment, which he tossed aside before laying full length atop my body, clamping my erection between the creamy smoothness of his inner thighs. His tongue was back inside my mouth, probing, exploring, while the top half of his legs gripped and released, gripped and released, relentlessly and very rapidly driving me to the brink of ecstasy. I tried to speak, to warn him what was about to happen, but only succeeded in mumbling incoherently, before absolutely exploding, painting the backs of his legs with spurt after spurt of my semen. The orgasm seemed to go on and on, longer and stronger than any I could remember. Just as I was beginning to come back to earth, Simon moaned into my mouth, and I felt his penis spasm powerfully against my stomach, felt a little dampness on my skin, as his second climax took his body over for delicious seconds. As his peak subsided, the taut rigidity of his muscles ebbed away, and it felt as though he was melting into my body. He kissed me one last time, before laying his head on my left shoulder, his breathing returning to normal as I tenderly rubbed a few strands of his hair between my fingers.

"I cummed again, Tony, it felt great."

"I know, darling boy, I could feel your dick throbbing. It was so sexy!"

"You cummed, too, didn't you? Was it good?"

"The best ever, and I'm not making that up. It was just unbelievable, it just kept going and going. It was like two orgasms rolled into one. So good, thank you so much!"

"You made a lot of spunk, too, I could feel it splashing on my legs. That's what made me cum, I think, feeling you cumming on me. It's getting cold now, though, I don't like that very much!"

"No, I can quite believe it! Let's find something to get you cleaned up a bit!"

I reached down and grabbed my discarded underwear, carefully wiping the evidence of my passion from his soft skin. He giggled slightly at the ticklish sensation, before relaxing into me again, his warm breath bathing my neck. I kissed the top of his head.

"Simon....I....I hardly know how to say this....but....you've made my dreams come true, truer than true, because it was so much better than I've ever imagined. Thank you. That's all I can say. Thank you so much."

The boy raised his head, and smiled that characteristic shy smile of his. "And that's just the start, Tony. I know there's other stuff we can do, and I want to try it all. I want you....I want you to....be inside me. And I want to be inside you, too."

"Oh, Simon, sweetheart, I don't think I can do that to you, I'd hurt you for sure, I'm heavy and clumsy, and...."

"Ssshhh!" He placed his finger on my lips. "We'll find a way to make it work. Because I want it, really want it, I promise you." As if to underline his words, I could feel his penis begin to harden again, rapidly returning to steely erection between our bodies. He smiled slightly, enigmatically.

"I'm hard again, Tony."

"I know, I can feel it."

"So....will you love me some more, please?"

By way of an answer, I carefully rolled him onto his back, then knelt beside him, beginning a journey of lips and tongue down his smooth body, kissing his forehead, his eyelids, his nose, lips, chin, neck, breastbone, nipples, left, then right, nibbling at the little buttons with my teeth, making him suck in a sharp breath, running my tongue over his flat stomach and digging into his 'innie' belly button, eliciting a soft peal of laughter, then lower still, following the shallow 'V' of his inguinal creases towards his groin. His hips were beginning to lift by this stage, not so subtly directing my attention towards his pulsing boyhood, but, instead, I bypassed his erection, focusing instead on his olive sized testes, hanging loosely in their hairless pouch. I ran the tip of my tongue lightly across the scrotum, before very gently gripping first one orb and then the other between my lips, suckling as softly as I could. Simon gasped and shivered as the waves of feeling washed over him, and I could see his penis twitch strongly, two or three times, making me wonder if he was going to be able to have a 'hands-free' orgasm. He could restrain himself no longer, it seemed.

"Tony," his voice a harsh, desperate whisper, "Tony, make me cum, please, please!"

"Of course, darling boy, it will be my pleasure!" I smiled up at him, and then, gripping the base of his shaft between two fingers, wrapped his swollen glans up in my lips. I just held him in place for a few seconds, not wanting him to cum too quickly, wanting to give him as much pleasure as I could, before beginning to bob my head slowly and deliberately, relishing the sensation of his hardness rubbing against my tongue and palate. Simon moaned and squirmed, and it was obvious he wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer. I quickened my pace, and brought my tongue into play, massaging his glans and frenulum.

"Now, ohhhh, now, I'm cuuuu...." was all the boy manage to choke out before he dissolved into a series of soft squeals as his orgasm hit, hard, his hips thrusting wildly, erratically at my face as I held on as best I could, licking and sucking for all I was worth. In contrast to his earlier peaks, this one was, as far as I could tell, dry, and went on and on, long seconds of ecstasy as his penis jerked at least ten, maybe a dozen times inside my eager mouth, before it all became overwhelming for him.

"Oh, stop, stop! Too much!"

I released him, reluctantly, and he slumped back onto the mattress.

"Bloody hell! That was....was....I don't know what it was! I've never felt anything like that! You're a genius, Tony!"

"Do you want to know a secret, sweet boy?" He nodded slightly, looking confused.

"That was the first time I've ever sucked a dick, in my life. No genius, just lucky! And you know what else?"

"What?"

"I loved it, loved doing it. It felt fantastic, wonderful, in my mouth!"

"I want to try! Lay down here!"

"You don't have to, just because I did it...."

"I know, I want to do it! Just shut up, lay back, and enjoy it!" He grinned wickedly, as though relishing the chance to have an adult do his bidding. I spread my arms wide, before rolling onto my back.

"Who am I to argue with an order like that!"

I'd be lying if I said that Simon gave me the best sexual experience of my life in the next few minutes, but what he lacked in expertise, he more than made up for in sheer enthusiasm. His lips and tongue danced across my glans and the first couple of inches of my shaft, and it wasn't long before I felt the unstoppable onset of another climax.

"I'm nearly there, Simon," I gasped, "Take it out quickly, or I'll cum in your mouth!"

He ignored my warning, and just sucked harder.

"Cumming, sweetie, cumming!" I felt the semen surge up through my shaft, and into the warm wetness of Simon's young mouth, the pleasure he was giving me submerging everything else for long seconds. The boy's tongue swiped across my glans, making me shudder as my orgasm came to its end, and he pulled back, grinning and licking his lips.

"I swallowed it!" His pride was evident. "It didn't taste bad, a bit salty, a bit sort of stale-tasting, but not bad!"

"You're a star, darling boy! That was just great!" Simon grinned again.

"I see what you mean about it feeling good in your mouth! I loved it when it was jerking and squirting, it felt brilliant! Can we do it again!"

I rolled my eyes. "It's alright for you youngsters, you can recharge in minutes, seconds sometimes! Us poor grown-ups, we need a bit of a rest in between! Mind you, being with a sexy beast like you is certainly helping my recovery time! Come and have a cuddle for a bit, then we'll have some lunch, then we'll see if you feel like doing anything more!"

In the event, it was only twenty minutes or so before Simon was back in my mouth, his penis throbbing and pulsing through his fourth orgasm of the morning. Even he had to admit he was starting to feel a bit weary after that, though, and, indeed, dozed off while I headed for a quick shower and then to the kitchen to make lunch. Simon appeared in the kitchen a couple of minutes before everything was ready, the almost-teen's unerring instinct for an impending meal unimpaired by the activities of the previous couple of hours.

"Smells good, Tony! I'm starving!"

"Glad we've helped you work up an appetite!" Simon smirked, unembarrassed by the suggestive reference.

"Yeah, we'll need some more energy for this afternoon, too!"

"Just to be serious and boring for a second, Simon, you know you don't have to do anything, don't you? Like I've said before, just having you as a friend is more than enough for me."

"I know, Tony, I know I can choose. Don't worry, I'll tell you if it's too much, I promise. What we've done so far, though, it's just been so fun. I love it, and I love that you're having a good time, too. It's all just great!"

"Simon, you really are one of a kind. I'm feeling so lucky, it's all been worth the wait, to find someone as special as you."

"You're special, too, Tony, you make me feel so good, and so good about myself. No-one's ever done that before. Thank you."

"You deserve all that, and far more, Simon. I'll always be here for you, as long as I'm living and breathing. The sex stuff is great, but it's just a bonus, if you like. Even if you decide you never want to do anything like that ever again, I'll still be here for you, to give you anything I'm able to. I love you, darling boy, and nothing can change that."

Simon smiled. "I like you calling me 'darling boy', it sounds really nice. I love you, too, darling man!"

I reached down and hugged him tightly.

"Come on, then, lunch is ready. I hope I don't poison you!"

We took our time over the food, so that by the time we'd eaten, and washed and tidied up, it was just after 2:00.

"What time do you need to get back, Simon?" I asked.

"Mum will be in about 5:00, Dad won't be back until 7:00 or 8:00, probably. So as long as I'm back by 6:00 or so, there won't be a problem. I'll just tell Mum I've been at a friend's place - I'll be telling the truth, after all!"

"OK, so if we get you up to the station by about 5:00, that should get you back in time, shouldn't it? You only live ten or fifteen minutes from the station at your end, don't you?"

"Yeah. I can ring Mum once she gets in, and let her know what time I'll be home. She won't be bothered, anyway. My mum and dad are always too busy, or too tired, for me. I know they have to work hard to pay for everything we need, and I'm grateful to them, but it does make me sad, sometimes. Now I've got you, though, it's going to be a lot better. I'll still have a good mum and dad, and a nice place to live, but I'll have someone to give me hugs and....other stuff, too. I'm really happy, Tony. I'm so glad I met you."

I felt my emotions welling up once more, felt the pricking of tears close behind my eyelids.

"I'm so happy I met you, too, darling boy. You're everything I've wanted and wished for, for nearly forty years. You've made all the hiding and pretending I've had to do, that I still have to do, worthwhile. Don't ever let me do anything to upset you, please, I don't ever want to lose you, as a friend, I mean. I know you'll find someone of your own age, hopefully soon, but I want so much for us still to be friends, even then."

"Maybe I will meet someone, but I'm not thinking about that at the moment. I'm happy to be with you, to be your friend, and your....darling boy. Let's go back to your room, I want some more....well, you know what!"

Within a couple of minutes, we were back on my bed, naked, fingers gently working on each others' renewed erections.

"Tony?"

"Mmmm."

"What's the thing they talk about in some of the stories, the pr....pros....I can't remember the word."

"Prostate gland?"

"Yeah, that's it. What is it, what does it do? Some of the stories go on about people having mega-cums by touching it. Is it really like that?"

"The prostate gland is to do with making semen - the sperms themselves are made in the testes, the balls, but most of the fluid is made in the prostate. I've read stories, too, but I don't know that much about the real-life version. I've put my fingers inside my bum, sometimes, and even a thin candle, once or twice, and it feels quite nice, but nothing that spectacular. I don't know if I've ever touched my prostate, though - it's supposed to feel like a firm lump, a few inches inside, but I've never felt anything like that. I'm as much of a novice as you, in a lot of ways."

"Can we try? I'd like to know what it feels like, if it really is that good."

"Are you sure? If you're certain you want to, we can have a go, but I'm so afraid of hurting you. I really am more than a bit clumsy, I'm not making that up."

"I know you wouldn't hurt me on purpose, and you'll stop if I say so, won't you?" I nodded. "The stories say you need slippery stuff to make it work, have you got anything, Tony?"

"I've got some hand lotion, I used it when I tried with the candle, it seemed to work OK."

"Let's do it, then. I'll tell you if I don't like it, promise."

I went to the cupboard, and returned with a blue plastic bottle of lotion.

"What's the best way, Tony?"

"Try lying on your back, and I'll hold your legs up. If it's uncomfortable for you, we'll try something else."

"OK." Simon wriggled into position, and I gently lifted and parted his legs. The pink pucker of his anus was clearly visible.

"This might feel a bit cold for a few seconds, Simon, but it'll soon warm up." I supported his legs against my shoulders, and poured a good dollop of the lotion onto my fingers, before massaging the slippery fluid into the area around the muscular ring, and then, as gently as I could, dipping a finger tip half an inch inside. Simon sucked a sharp breath over his teeth.

"Are you OK, Simon? Did I hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine, really, Tony. It just feels weird, that's all. Go in a bit deeper."

I slid my finger forward a little more, pouring a little more lotion onto the digit at the same time. The boy shivered.

"That is cold. Give me a second." I waited. Simon smiled a little. "OK, that's warmed up now. Carry on, it feels good."

I slowly pushed my forefinger all the way inside Simon's rectum, his sphincter gripping me tightly. I began to tentatively move around inside, exploring his buttery smoothness.

"Mmmm, that's nice, Tony. Can you feel my prostate yet?" As if on cue, the boy's body shuddered violently. "Ooohhh, bloody hell, was that it?"

I'd just rubbed my finger gently over a little bump, and repeated the movement.

"Oh, bloody hell, that feels weird! Good weird, though, don't stop!"

Simon's penis was as rock hard as earlier in the day, and I took it firmly in my already lubricated free hand, and stroked in time with the little movements I was making inside of him.

"Oh, yessss! Oh, Tony, that feels amazing. Keep doing it!"

Within seconds, Simon was moaning in ecstasy. I quickened my pace a little, but tried to keep the touch, especially inside him, as gentle as possible.

"I'm cumming, I'm cumming! Don't stop, please don't stop! Aaahhh!"

I felt the little gland pulse, followed a split second later by his throbbing boyhood, and he squealed aloud as a real little jet of watery semen, then a second, blasted out of his body.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh God! More, please, more!"

I kept massaging, inside and out, as his orgasm continued. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, little whimpers, seemingly involuntary, passed his lips. After a few more seconds of rapture, he groaned. I stopped my stimulation, and he let out all the breath he seemed to have been holding for ever in a huge sigh. I slipped my finger out of him, and gently lowered his legs. He opened his eyes, and looked genuinely astonished at the feelings he'd just experienced.

"Tony, you have got to try that! That was unbelievable! I'll do it for you."

"Do you know how much you squirted, Simon?"

"Not really. It just felt bloody brilliant."

"Two real, decent squirts. About five times as much as this morning. Look, it's all over your chest!"

The boy looked down, and the wonderment on his face was renewed. He scooped a little sample onto his finger, and licked it.

"Tastes nicer than yours, if I say so myself! Here, try some." He reloaded his finger, and held it out towards me. I took it into my mouth, and sucked gently. It was a different taste, no doubt about it, much sweeter, just a delight.

"Lovely, Simon. I want a fresh mouthful of that, soon, please!" Simon giggled.

"As soon as I can, Captain! Do you want me to do you, now?"

"Well, how about this. Have a little rest, and, once you're nice and hard again, how about if you put that lovely dick of yours inside me, instead of just a finger?"

"Really? You'd really let me do it?"

"Only if you want to."

"Oh, yeah, that would be great! Does that mean....that I wouldn't be a....virgin, anymore?"

"I suppose so, in one way, at least. And neither would I - I've never been...." I found myself hesitating, not knowing the best word to use. Simon came out and said what I was skating around.

"Fucked?"

"Yeah, fucked! And I can't think of anyone, anyone in the world, I'd rather do it with."

"Nor me! You're the best, Tony!"

Despite having had a huge orgasm only minutes earlier, the idea of his first full sexual act had excited Simon greatly, and his boyhood was quickly back to full, throbbing erection.

"Blimey, Simon, that's some recovery! Are you ready, darling boy?"

"Yeah," he breathed. "How are we going to do it?"

"Well, I'm not as flexible as you, but I'll try lying on my back - I'd love to see your beautiful face while we're doing it. If that doesn't work, I'll get on my hands and knees, and you can get behind me."

With the help of a couple of pillows, and stretching myself further than I thought my old sinews could take, I was able to lift my backside high enough to give Simon access. He smeared the hand lotion on himself and me, pushing two of his thin fingers inside me to lubricate within. I gasped.

"Sorry, Tony. Was I too rough?"

"It's OK. Just take it steady. I'm ready for you now."

I held my breath as I felt the heat of his glans against my anus. He was holding his penis between two fingers, to help him find the right spot. He pushed forward a little, and I felt him start to enter.

"Slowly, darling boy! Give me time to adjust."

His boyhood really was as hard as the candle I'd experimented with, and more or less the same thickness. With admirable restraint, he edged forward, slowly and carefully, and my sphincter relaxed to allow him to fully penetrate me.

"It's all the way in, Tony! Are you OK?"

"Yeah, it feels good! How is it for you, my darling ex-virgin!"

"Fantastic! It's like hands wrapping my whole dick up and squeezing! Shall I start going in and out?"

"Yeah. Go slowly till you get used to it, though, so you don't slip out."

He nodded, and began moving in short, slow strokes. Then he moved his hips slightly to one side, it seemed, and a sudden jolt of intense pleasure shot through me. I moaned.

"Simon....I think....you've just....found....my prostate!"

He grinned, and began to move a little faster, to make his thrusts a little longer and stronger. He wriggled his hips a little again, and another blast of joy rippled out from my rectum.

"Oh yeah! Keep doing it like that, darling! That's so good!"

As he pushed more powerfully into me, every stroke was hitting the magic spot, and I felt myself slip-sliding closer to the brink of ultimate delight. Simon's eyes seemed to glaze over, as though he was looking, but seeing nothing, his teeth visible, glinting white and almost animalistic, between his parted lips. I gripped what was only a half-erection on my part, and tried to masturbate myself in time with the boy's increasingly urgent thrusts. I felt his penis twitch inside me, as he made one last, deep thrust before orgasm overtook him yet again. He moaned and whimpered in joy.

"Don't stop, darling boy, I'm nearly there too!"

He somehow registered my plea through his abandon, and began erratically hammering his hips back and forth once more. Three more wild thrusts, and with the help of my gripping hand, and I joined Simon in paradise. My muscle contractions grasped at his penis spasmodically, and he groaned even more loudly than before as his orgasm intensified further. I could feel his body literally shaking with pleasure, and I wasn't far behind him. Finally, it all came to an end, and he collapsed on top of me, gasping for breath, still rock hard, and still embedded as deeply as he could be.

"Oh, Simon, my darling, that was just stunning! I never knew it could be as good as that!"

The boy began to cry, emotion completely overtaking him. I held him close, stroked his back and buttocks.

"Ssshhh, ssshhh, it's alright, darling boy, you were so wonderful."

"I....I'm crying because I'm....happy, not....sad. Oh, Tony, it....it was....the best thing, ever, ever. I love you so much."

"And I love you just as much, Simon. Hey, you're still hard. Do it again!"

"I don't know if I can. I'm knackered!"

"Try. Just do it slowly and gently. See how it goes."

The boy began to move his hips again, almost imperceptibly at first, but soon finding a smooth rhythm once more. This one, as far as I was concerned, was just for him, although his movements were still more than a little pleasurable for me, too. I tried to work my muscles to enhance his enjoyment, and it was only a matter of minutes before his eyes rolled back in their sockets, and he moaned in rapture one more time, his erection pulsing strongly inside me. As he came back to earth, he looked into my eyes, smiling dreamily.

"Mmmm! That was really good, Tony! Were you squeezing my dick on purpose?"

"Certainly was! Did you like it?"

"Yeah, really, really nice. That's the sixth time I've cummed today, isn't it?"

"Nope - it's seven, darling boy!"

"Bloody hell! No wonder I'm so knackered! I'll probably sleep for the rest of the week!"

"Speaking of which, we'd better unravel ourselves. I'm getting pins and needles, even with your lovely light weight!" His erection had begun to subside this time, and he slid gently out of me.

"I think we're a pair of smelly boys, Simon. Showers are called for!"

That was the last new delight of that glorious day for me, sharing a shower with my darling Simon. We washed and dried each other tenderly, before returning to the room to snooze, snuggled together, for half an hour or so, before my phone's alarm sounded to alert us to get ready to make our way to the station. Simon stretched and yawned luxuriantly, for all the world like a contented cat.

"Everything OK, Simon?"

"Yeah, I feel great, that little sleep really helped. I just wish we had time to do it all again!"

I chuckled, eyebrows raised. "I bet you could, too, couldn't you, my horny young buck! Don't worry, I'm sure there will be plenty more times, as long as you want to - I know I'd certainly never say no to you!"

He looked lovingly, smilingly towards me.

"Next time, Tony, I want you to....to put yours inside me, too. It felt great when you had your finger inside earlier, I bet your dick would feel even better!"

"We'll see, darling boy. I'm not that big, by adult standards, but it's still a lot thicker than my finger. I really couldn't bear to hurt you."

"I'd soon get used to it, the boys in the stories always do."

"They're just stories, sweetheart, real life isn't always like that. Maybe we can try, though, if you still want to, but if it doesn't work, it won't matter, there are lots of other nice things to do - I've enjoyed all the things we've done today, it's been wonderful. I've dreamed, fantasised, about what it would be like, for years and years, but you've made it so much better than I ever believed it could be." I was welling up inside again, and could do nothing to hold back my emotions. "Th....thank you, Simon, it....it's been the best day of my life."

"Happy crying, Tony?" he asked, concern evident on his face. I nodded.

"Very happy, darling boy!" He smiled, and kissed me gently.

****

And there were many more days, that summer and in the two years that followed, where Simon and I made love for hours, delighting in each others' pleasure, and our own. I never did penetrate him, though, other than with a gentle finger - we tried, more than once, but his obvious discomfort was far too much for me to bear, loving him as much as I did, and had an immediate anaphrodisiac effect on me. As I'd said to him, there were plenty of other nice things to do, anyway. And by no means did all of them, or even the majority of them, involve having sex. We visited many interesting places together, spent hours talking about anything and everything, went to see his beloved football team play regularly, cooked each other meals - he was more than keen to develop his culinary skills, and soon far outshone me in that department - and, in general, did most of the small, relatively mundane things that any best friends and lovers would. All the while, though, I knew a critical point in our relationship was approaching, and so did Simon. I was a boylover, always had been, and he was slowly but surely developing into a young man, a very handsome, intelligent and personable young man, but young man nonetheless. I'd always encouraged him to have friends of his own age, and he did, although he sometimes found it awkward around boys, because he knew for sure, at 14, almost 15, as he was, that he was gay, and found sexual attraction complicating his interactions with his peers. I was relieved to hear that he had managed to avoid any bullying at school, though, and had even cautiously broached the subject of his orientation with his parents, getting a much more supportive response than he had been expecting.

"I thought Mum, and especially Dad, would go apeshit, but they both told me they love me, whoever I choose to be with, Tony," Simon told me one day.

"That's really great, Simon, I'm really happy for you. I could never speak to my parents about myself, especially my Mum, even when I was grown up. Mind you, like I've said to you before, I wasn't even honest with myself a lot of the time."

"I....I can't tell them about you, though, can I, Tony? I'd love to, but it might be....difficult."

"I've never asked you to keep secrets for my sake, Simon, and I never will. My concern is, and always has been, that you don't get hurt. I love you so much, I couldn't bear the thought that you would be hurt because of me."

"Tony...." Simon began, looking nervous and hesitant. I looked towards him, encouragingly, I hoped. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course, darling boy. You know you can tell me anything."

"You....you might be upset, though. I don't want you to be upset."

"Simon....there's only one thing that would upset me, and that's if you told me I'd hurt you, in any way."

"Of course you haven't, Tony. It's....well....there's someone....I'd like you to meet."

A phone call, and a twenty minute bus ride later, we were sitting outside a riverside coffee shop, near one of West London's bridges over the Thames. Simon was evidently on tenterhooks, fidgeting in his seat and looking along the waterside path towards the bus stops where we'd recently arrived. After a few minutes, he stood up, and waved to a figure walking our way. The wave was returned, and as the person approached our table, I could see it was a tall, thin teenager, around Simon's age, or perhaps a little older, dark haired and very good looking. Simon smiled the sort of shy smile I remembered from the early days of our friendship in the newcomer's direction, a smile that was returned in kind. They exchanged hellos, before Simon turned back to me.

"Tony, this is Chrissy....I mean Christian," he corrected himself as the tall boy frowned a little. I stood, and held out my hand. We shook, briefly.

"Hi, Christian, nice to meet you."

"Hello, Tony. It's nice to meet you for real, too. I've heard....quite a lot about you."

I looked at Simon, a little nervously, before speaking again, forcing lightness into my tone.

"All bad, no doubt, if it's come from Simon!"

Christian laughed. "No, not at all, Simon's told me how good a friend you are to him."

"I try my best - Simon's a really good friend to me, too."

I looked at my boy, lovingly, and was treated to a loving glance in return. I turned my attention back to the taller lad.

"So, Christian, what would you like to drink?"

We sat and talked, inconsequentially, for almost an hour, before Simon made our excuses, and we headed for the bus stop. We got off the bus by the war memorial, and soon found ourselves sitting on the same bench we'd occupied just over two years earlier, the day Simon had asked me if I was gay, and I'd confessed to being a boylover.

"What did you think of him, Tony?"

"Yeah, he seems like a really nice guy. Very good looking, too." Simon shot me a sideways glance, to see me smirking mischievously. "Too old for me, though!"

Simon suddenly looked unwontedly serious. "He's only six months older than me, Tony," he said quietly.

I understood immediately what he was getting at. "Simon, I love you, I'll always love you, you know that. But you know, too, that I'm attracted to boys, not men, I've never pretended any differently. I still think you're the sexiest person on Earth, but we both know that won't last forever. That's my fault, not yours, it's just the way I am. The sex has always been wonderful, and I'm so honoured and humbled to have shared that with you, to still share that with you, but its presence or absence doesn't and never will change anything about the love I feel for you. If you want to live with me for the rest of my life, I'd be delighted and I'd cherish you until my dying breath, but handsome man that you'll undoubtedly be, that you're well on the way to being already, you'll outgrow my desires. There's no way I can pretend otherwise. I've always said you need to find someone your own age. There's no way I'd ever try and stand in the way of that, I promise. Could Christian be that person?"

Simon was silent for what seemed like a long time, but was probably no more than twenty seconds.

"Maybe....he....he's asked me....to be his....boyfriend."

"And do you want to?"

"I....I think so." He paused, as if contemplating both what he wanted to say next, and its possible effects. "If....if I was with Chrissy, though, I wouldn't be able....to do....stuff with you anymore."

"That's just as it should be, Simon, fidelity is a great virtue. It wouldn't stop us being friends, though, would it? You know I've always said I want to keep you as a friend, no matter what, and I really mean that."

"Oh, Tony, you're the best friend I've ever had! We'll always be friends, I promise! I love you!"

And right there, on the edge of the Common, in as public a place as could be, he put his arms around my neck, and kissed me.

****

One day, a couple of months later, as the school half-term holiday approached, Simon rang me. I was still seeing him fairly regularly, but not nearly as much as before, so a phone call was more than welcome.

"You're not working this weekend, are you, Tony?"

"No, darling boy, I'm off from Friday till Tuesday."

"Good. Can you meet Chrissy and I for lunch on Sunday?"

"Yeah, of course, that will be great! Where and when?"

We made the necessary arrangements, and I duly made my way to the rendezvous. To my considerable surprise, they weren't alone when I met them at the restaurant. Simon immediately picked up on the direction of my gaze, and smiled broadly.

"This is Cameron, Chrissy's brother."

My eyes were drawn inexorably towards the youngster, maybe 11 or 12, dark haired and brown eyed like his sibling, and, frankly, beautiful, no other word would have done him justice. The boy looked back at me, without a trace of shyness or uncertainty about his demeanour.

"Hello, Tony, call me Cammy, please, all my friends do. Simon's told me....all about you, about how nice you are, about how you've taught him lots of....interesting things. I want....to learn, too, if....you don't mind teaching me."

I looked at Cammy, and then across to Simon, absolutely dumbstruck. Simon was grinning from ear to ear, and then, as brazenly as imaginable, he winked at me.

"Tony, we're all going back to our house after lunch, my mum and dad have gone to Birmingham to a concert, they won't be back until late tonight," Cammy continued. "We can get to....know each other better, while Simon and Chrissy are....busy."

I shook my head, hardly able to believe what I was hearing, but I couldn't suppress the big smile that burst onto my face, either.

All's for the best....

****

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B