Gareth and Phil
by Alexander

 

Chapter 10

We arrived at our new home a little after seven. I slid the car into a vacant parking bay and opened the front door. Gareth was standing slightly behind me as I knocked to let the landlady know we’d arrived. Beaming, she welcomed us both, gave Gareth a smile and shook his hand. Declining her offer of a cup of tea, we collected as much baggage as we could and climbed the stairs. Fumbling about in my pocket, I handed Gareth his keys, complete with tag with his name on, and invited him to open our door. It was the first time he’d been allowed his own door key.

Throwing the gear inside, Gareth ran from room to room, exploring and commenting on the view of the channel from the back bedroom window. Glancing round, it struck me how tawdry and run-down the place looked. It seemed fine when I first inspected it, but now my little prince was here I was worried that it wasn’t at all the sort of place to start our life together. I wanted the very best of everything for him; he was leaving a comfortable, well-furnished home with all the modern conveniences, to live in a decrepit, very much lived-in, flat. I may have been pissed off, but not Gareth. Pausing only for a fleeting instant to hug me, he checked the rooms out again, a Cheshire-cat grin filling his face. I started to feel better seeing how happy he was.

One last trip to the car and we dumped our few belongings on the floor of the living room and dropped onto the sofa, arms round each other.

“It’s fantastic!” he stammered, “It’s OK!”

We kissed quickly as I said, “Welcome home.” That earned me another kiss and the start of another hard-on, which I chose to ignore, at least for the time being.

Within an hour we’d sorted the boxes out, replaced the crockery and cutlery with our own, put one or two bits or personal stuff around and arranged the furniture as we wanted. My small portable tv was fitted up – it would do us until I brought my full-size one down – and the place began to look like a home. Gareth’s suitcase was the last to be sorted, and I saw him hesitate for a moment as he dragged it to the door of what was going to be his room. With a slightly defiant grin, he pulled the case past the door and into what he’d determined was to be OUR room. Accepting this, at least for the time being, I went to help him. I’d only got a few clothes with me as I’d not intended to move in quite just yet and so there was plenty of room for Gareth’s things. Carefully and with fastidious fairness, he mumbled to himself as he stowed his clothes, ‘that’s my draw’, ‘that’s Phil’s’; ‘that’s my cupboard’, that’s Phil’s’.

Nine o’clock rolled round and we were more or less finished. Collapsing together on the big arm-chair with Gareth on my lap, we surveyed the room. It was starting to look better already and we were both pleased with ourselves. I realised I was hungry and asked Gareth if he wanted to eat Indian or Chinese.

“Indian!” he said.

Dover is the main cross-channel port for England, and reputedly the busiest passenger port in the world. It is only a fairly small town in itself, but because of the high number of visitors has a lot of hotels and restaurants. I knew of a good Indian one not too far away and so once we’d had a wash and change found our way there.

Although it was quite busy, we managed to get a table for two and settled down to eat. Gareth had dropped into his grown-up ‘I’m an adult’ mode now and was the perfect little gentleman, ordering his meal and behaving himself as if it was something he did everyday. To celebrate I ordered a bottle of red wine. Pouring a good sized glass for each of us, we raised them to our lips and looked at each other. A silent ‘I love you’ flashed between us and we grinned.

After the meal, Gareth was all for going back home straight away but after only a little persuasion changed his mind and we went for a walk towards the harbour. On the way I pointed out some places of importance for him; the railway station, the bus station, Dover Castle way up on the hilltop over the town, and his new school on the opposite side of town, just visible between the houses.

It was almost midnight when we got back much to our surprise. We’d been walking and talking for nearly two hours and hadn’t noticed. Neither of us felt particularly tired, the day had been far too full of excitement for that and we hadn’t quite come down from our emotional high yet. We sat and watched the tiny tv for a while, but Gareth was restless, shifting his position on my lap, grinding his butt into my groin and nuzzling against my neck. It was obvious what was on his mind – mine too come to that. The only problem was that we had no bedding! There were a couple of mangy old blankets in the cupboard which had seen better days, and I didn’t fancy sleeping under those! Resorting to the trusty sleeping bags, we retrieved them from the back of the Landrover and spread them out on ‘our’ bed. They would have to do for tonight. Gareth said that it was like camping out again, but indoors this time.

We undressed together, dropping our clothes where we stood. I kept my underpants on, as much out of habit as anything else. Gareth had his on as well, but a sly grin and a slow, deliberate removal of them soon persuaded me to take mine off as well. We climbed into bed, wrapped the make-shift covers round us and cuddled up close, Gareth resting his head on my chest. We sighed together and made ourselves comfortable.

Looking out of the window in front of us, we watched the twinkling lights in the harbour, illuminating the cross-channel ferries as they wove their way in and out of the quays. Way off on the horizon we could just make out the orange glow of the street lights on the French coast, some 20 or 25 miles away. We enjoyed the view in silence, me stroking Gareth’s soft hair and Gareth breathing gently on my chest. I asked Gareth if he was happy, but there was no response. He’d drifted off to sleep. Kissing him gently on the forehead, I whispered ‘goodnight’ and closed my eyes. My last conscious memory was of my cherub, wrapped round my body, a leg draped across mine with a knee pressing lightly in my groin and his flaccid (for once!) dick nestled against my thigh.

Dawn came early, it was only just after six am when I opened my eyes to the new day. Sometime during the night, Gareth had changed sides and was now stretched out full length alongside me, his head on the pillow. He was twirling my cock hairs between his fingers, watching as my cock slowly filled up. I became aware of his morning erection pressing into my thigh and I turned over to look at him. His eyes were half-open as he yawned and said, “Morning! It’s about time you woke up. I’ve been awake for ages.”

“Morning!” I replied, stretching out. “How are you today?”

“Perfect.” he sighed.

He squirmed round under the cover, rested his head on my shoulder and began to nibble my ear.

“That tickles!” I laughed, pushing his head away. He gave me a quick kiss on the ear as if to say sorry, and lay on top of me, resting on his elbows.

“What we gonna do today?” he said quietly, yawning again.

“I don’t know yet. It’s too early.” I closed my eyes and rested.

“Wanna cup of coffee?” he said, scrambling off the bed.

I opened my eyes and looked at him standing next to me, still naked, his erection pointing straight at me.

“Christ!” I grinned, “I’m not sure I can cope with that thing staring me in the face first thing in the morning, beautiful though it is!” I took hold of his cock and gave it a squeeze.

He thrust himself forwards ever so slightly and smiled.

“Get some pants on if you’re gonna make coffee, I’d hate for you to scald it. What would your mum say if I sent you home with a burnt dick?”

He laughed lightly and searched for his pants, pulling them up as he staggered towards the kitchen, hopping from foot to foot. I got up as he disappeared and went for a piss. Getting back into bed, I settled back in the warmth and thought. The first thing we had to do was make a list of the things we needed for the flat, then arrange the bedrooms properly and …… I was turning these thoughts over in my mind when Gareth came back, balancing two cups of coffee and a plate of toast precariously in his hands. Setting them on the bedside chair, he jumped on the bed sitting cross-legged next to me, chewing on a slice of toast. Taking my cup, I looked at him over the top of it, thinking how lucky I was to have such an angel to love and cherish.

Finishing my impromptu breakfast, I rested my hand on his knee and stroked it. Gareth, swallowing the last mouthful of toast wriggled down and cuddled up to me, thumb in his mouth and eyes closed. I wiped away a few crumbs from his lips and kissed him.

“Mmmmmmmmm, that’s nice!” he mumbled. He pushed his thumbs inside his pants and took them off. “That’s better!” he sighed and I felt his cock stir against my leg as he settled down. I spread my legs apart for him as I felt a cool hand take my cock and begin to rub it. My hand found his and did the same for him. Once I was solidly hard, which didn’t take long, Gareth spun round, and kneeling astride me, bent over and took my cock into his mouth, sucking on it gently and rubbing my balls with his fingertips. Reaching under him, I took both his hairless balls in mine and held them, feeling their weight before running my fingers up and down his proud erection. I let him carry on tonguing and sucking me for as long as he wanted; I was quite happy to have the pleasure of gently massaging his dick for him as he did so, feeling it throb in my hand.

Slowly he turned round and lay on top of me, inserting his prick between my legs. He moaned as he settled down and began to thrust up and down with short, sensual movements. His belly was rubbing my cock wonderfully with each thrust back and forth. I clasped my hands on his butt cheeks and encouraged him to move a little quicker. Gradually he built up the speed and force as he headed towards his climax and the thrustings became more and more urgent and desperate. I slipped a finger inside his hole and pushed, searching for his tiny prostate. He began moaning and shouting ecstatically as between us we drove him closer and closer towards the edge. His back arched, his head was thrown back and with a last, impassioned thrust he lost his load, shooting out solid pellets of hot, precious cum to cover my balls and drip onto the bedcover. His body, now rigid and trembling violently, eyes glazed and mouth agape, collapsed on top of me struggling for breath. Tightly I held him, forcing my tongue deep into his throat as we kissed fervently. My own cum cemented us together as we gradually returned to Earth.

Gareth was speechless. I’d learned by experience that these episodes took a great deal out of him, and he was also embarrassed by his total inability to stop it happening once he was travelling that route. I stroked his back as he stared at me, eyes still slightly glazed with a bemused expression on his face. Tears were rolling down his cheeks.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he cried, burying his head on my shoulder. “I can’t ….. I can’t”

I shushed him and kissed him again delicately. “Don’t worry. I think it’s the best thing ever. It shows just how much you enjoy it, and that you like doing it with me enough to go like that.”

He managed a weak smile and closed his eyes, soon to drop into a peaceful doze. This was the Gareth I knew and loved. Don’t let him change, ever.

Eventually of course, we had to make a move. Leaving him to wake up slowly, I had a quick shower and dressed, making us a drink. I sorted some clean clothes out for him, put the soap and shampoo out in the shower and woke him up. Rubbing his eyes as he sat up, he started to apologise again but I stopped him and said, grinning, “Don’t panic! I wouldn’t have it any other way! I love you for it!”

As he showered, I thought about it. To begin with it scared me when he reacted like this, but I had got used to it, and it was worrying him more than me now. I think that it frightened him badly sometimes, not that he would admit it of course. Hopefully he would grow out of it, or learn to live with it: either way was fine by me. To be honest, I think it was more or less a matter of his body getting used to the intensity of his adolescent hormones and he would soon get them under control. I was simply glad that I was able to be there for him and for us to work it through together.

Once dressed, we hit the town. First thing was breakfast, which we had standing at a tea bar on the sea front. Gareth was ravenous as usual and downed twice as much as I did, grinning like a two-year old all the while. He was back to normal. There was a street market in the car park and we wandered around in the crowd enjoying the sea-air and sun. I picked up a few things for the flat; bed sheets and blankets, towels and other odds and ends. Gareth was away on his own exploring the games and toys I imagined. He came back after a while with an armful of comics. He stuffed them into the bag and grabbing me by the arm, pulled me over to a clothes stall.

“Can we get some shirts?” he asked, “They’ve got some good ones here.”

Nodding agreement I watched as he searched through the rack. It took him a while to find what he wanted and threw them on his shoulder as he turned his attention to the box of shorts. Picking two pairs out, he added them to the shirts and handed them to the stall holder. I paid for them and we started to walk back to the flat. It was getting close towards the time when we would have to make a move to meet his father.

Back indoors he stood in the middle of the floor and stripped off down to his pants. It wasn’t all that long ago we’d had some fun, and I was not really in the mood for any more sex just then. But for once, that wasn’t on his mind I realised as he hurriedly unwrapped the clothes we’d bought. He produced two sets of identical clothes, one for me and one for him. The T-shirts were pale blue cotton with a Dover badge on them, the shorts were white and matched perfectly.

“Go on, get ‘em on,” he said. “We got the same. It’ll be brilliant!”

He was right. If I looked half as good as he did, then they were OK. He was an attractive boy at the best of times, and wearing these new clothes made him look even more handsome. I felt a familiar twinge in my groin as I looked at him. Not for the first time I thought that maybe, just maybe, he might be better-looking than was good for him. I made a mental note to have a talk to him sometime, along with several other things.

We locked the flat, threw his now empty suitcase in the car and reluctantly headed off to find his father. He was in a rather subdued mood as we drove, idly flicking through his comics. I knew what he was thinking and there was nothing I could do about it. Reaching the point on the road where I’d made the phone call to our landlady, Gareth stared out of the window at ‘our’ tree. Without a word, he grinned at me, made a grab for my balls and squeezed gently. He then curled up on the seat, adopted his now normal travelling position and closed his eyes. I removed his thumb from his mouth, replaced it with mine and settled down to drive as I watched his hand snake down to his shorts.

“What time we meeting dad?” he asked after a while, staring at my prune-like thumb.

“About three. I said we’d give him a ring and let him know where we were.”

“Mmmm,” he replied glancing at his watch. “About an hour to spare then.”

The inference was obvious. I sighed dramatically and said, “No Way, Hose! I’m plumb tuckered out!”

“No you’re not, I can tell.” he rolled his head over my burgeoning cock. “And I’m ready for it, see?” He lifted his shorts up to show me. There was a pause before he went on, “And in any case it’s going to be ages before we can do anything again, isn’t it?”

He’d done it again. The combination of his pleading voice and tantalising glimpse of his adorable dick were too much. That, and the reminder we were about to be separated again settled the matter and we began to look for somewhere to park up for a while.

Finding a quiet spot down one of the many country lanes surrounding us, I braked to a halt under a tree and gazed at him. “Well?” I grinned, “Now what?”

“Bollocks!” he smiled and made a dive for my groin. Frantically he undid the button of my shorts and forced them down as far as he could, along with my pants.

“Wait!” I panted, “Let’s go outside.”

Gareth scanned the countryside for signs of life as I searched in the back of the Landrover. Finding what I wanted stuffed in the corner, I untied the plastic sheet and opened it up. Spreading it out on the grass in front of the car, I glanced at Gareth who recognised the dreaded object immediately and pulled a face. It was the plastic sheet from his bed.

Sitting in the middle of it, my legs spread as far apart as they would go, I lay Gareth down between them and stroked his cheeks. He sighed blissfully and leaned up to press his lips against mine, giving me three or four quick pecks, teasing me with his tongue. Unable to take much of this, I grabbed the back of his head and forced him to me, sinking my tongue into his warm mouth. I felt his body soften as he relaxed. We took pleasure in each other for a few minutes, alternately kissing and stroking each other, knowing that we wouldn’t be able to be as close as this for quite some time to come.

Gareth suddenly sat back on his haunches and pulled his shirt off. “This ain’t no good. Quick, get ‘em off!” he panted. “Come on!”

In less time than it takes to tell, we were stripped bare and hugging each other, our boners dancing together between us. Dropping to the ground we faced each other and smiled. Gently I took Gareth’s leaking cock in my hand and rolled his foreskin between my fingers as he started to stroke mine slowly. I manoeuvred my spare hand to his chest and stroked his nipples between my finger and thumb, leaning down to kiss them wetly.

“Oh Christ! Don’t, don’t!” he gasped, “Oh Jesus! Phil, …..”

A hand shot up to grab mine, but stopping me was the very last thing on his mind. He held it there as I rubbed his now firmly erect little nipples. I felt his dick swell and become even hotter if that were possible and it throbbed massively. He’d lost all power of speech by now and was thrashing about on the ground as if possessed, low guttural sounds escaping from his gaping mouth. Frightened I was going to send him over the top far too soon, I eased off and kissed his lovely pink lips. He returned the kiss violently, his tongue writhing to find mine in desperation. Throwing his body on top of me, he grabbed my hair, pulled me tightly into him and sunk his tongue even deeper. Gradually he withdrew from the precipice and regained control of his breathing. He was glowing bright red from head to toe, beads of sweat glistening on his brow. His hands returned to my dripping cock and stroked it slowly, forcing himself to calm down..

“Lift your legs up,” he whispered.

I did as I was asked, willingly, and held them back out of the way as he re-positioned himself.

He smeared some of his pre-cum over the end of his shaft, peeled his foreskin back and pushed. With remarkable ease, my pucker opened up to accept him and he let it slide in, relishing every millimetre as he lowered himself down.

There were no words this time, just a moan of delight as he rested for a second. Then he started, excruciatingly slowly at first, pulling back until his corona was just inside, then pushing back until he was as far as he could reach. I counted three, four, five times as he fucked me, his nails biting deep into my shoulders with the effort. Six, seven, eight ……… I stopped counting as he got faster and faster, now almost screaming with passion.

“Go, go, go …….” he repeated, “Fucking go!”

My head span and I lost all sense of reality as he thrust backwards and forwards, time and time again. Then, with one urgent and final push, he ejaculated fearsomely, I swear I could feel his cum spraying my inside with his beautiful sperm. His little hand, still griping my ultra-rigid dick was covered in my spunk as I joined him. Quickly I pulled him down and covered his lips with mine to silence him, one hand on his back, the other covering his butt cheeks as he spasmed time and time again. This was the longest time ever he’d blanked out and I was just getting really concerned when he came to, tears rolling down his cheeks in happiness.

We cuddled and hugged as our dicks slowly softened, mine slipping un-noticed from his well-lubricated hole. Gareth smiled at me wickedly, twisted round and swiped the cum off my belly with his tongue and swallowed it.

“Now I’ve got you in both ends of me!” he giggled. “Something to remember you by.”

We dressed ourselves and sat together with arms linked.

“When can I move down properly?” he asked.

I’d been thinking about that and hadn’t really come to an answer. As soon as possible was my gut reaction, but there were other considerations to be taken into account. It would take me a few days to tidy the flat up and start my new job, it would take Gareth a little while to collect his school stuff and tell them he was leaving, and about thirty seconds to pack.

“About two weeks I guess.”

There was a momentary flash of disappointment, but it quickly went as he thought about it.

“That’s OK then, but no longer or I’ll change my mind!”

“Bollocks!” I mouthed at him, “as if!”

I got another hug for that and a kiss.

“Come on then, let’s go and find my old man.”

We helped each other to our feet and stared at the plastic sheet. Almost ceremoniously we scrunched it up and threw it into the bushes. I knew we wouldn’t ever be needing that again.

We met his mum and dad at a motorway service station and had a cup of tea together. Gareth said that the flat ‘was OK,’ and that Dover was a nice place and he thought he’d like living there. And that was that. We agreed that I would drive up and collect Gareth and the rest of his things in a couple of weeks. As we stood in the car park saying goodbye, my uncle handed me an envelope.

“That’s his birth certificate, passport and some other bits. There’s a cheque in there as well for the first month.” It struck me as slightly humorous: it was just the same as buying a second-hand car. A few bits of paper, a cheque and the deal was done. One car. Or in this case, one boy. I was glad Gareth missed it.

One last comment threw me, and I’ll remember it to my dying day. “Got your bed sheet?” his father asked as Gareth settled down in back of their car. I could see the tears welling up instantly. He’d had a wonderful 24-hours, settled into his new home, was as happy as a sand-boy and was looking forward to a new life. All ruined in one thoughtless sentence from his father. Or perhaps it wasn’t quite so thoughtless I considered. Knowing him, it could’ve been quite deliberate, after all his son was showing signs of being happy.

I was dumbstruck and hadn’t a clue what to say. The bastard deserved some sort of answer, but I was speechless. Gareth, bless him, was quicker than I was and retorted, almost viciously, “Don’t need it no more.” and looked away from him into the distance. The implication wasn’t missed. Gareth’s dad opened his mouth as if to say something, thought better of it, and climbed into the car. I knew Gareth would pay for that remark later, but I was also confident that he couldn’t give a damn.

I drove slowly homewards. My mind turning over several things at once. I felt in my pocket for the envelope his dad had given me and opened it. Glancing at the contents, confirmed that his birth certificate and passport were there as well as the cheque, which I folded and put in my wallet. The only other thing of any interest was a doctor’s appointment card for Gareth to see him about his bed wetting. I tore it up and dropped it out of the window.

I decided to spent a last night with my parents, gather the few remaining bits I had there before moving full-time to Dover. It was only thirty miles from Dover to my parents so wouldn’t take me long to drive. I hadn’t lived at home, apart from holidays, for some years now and they were accustomed to me dropping in for a night or two once in a while, but spending most of my life elsewhere. I didn’t mention Gareth to them; dad and Uncle Bill hadn’t spoken since I tried to get them together, and I thought they wouldn’t be all that pleased about me taking Gareth under my wing. They would understand why completely, but still wouldn’t agree with it, ‘leave things well alone and don’t interfere’ being their motto.

I decided to ring Gareth every night that week to check everything was still OK with him; I was worried about his father. I fully expected him to get physical with Gareth, just as he had done with his other sons, especially after that comment in the car park. I couldn’t do much from a hundred miles away, but the support might help make things easier. I called him at midnight as I was finishing off a scratch meal. Thankfully he was OK. As soon as he got home he went to his room and stayed there, he told me. Neither parent asked him how he was or what he thought about Dover other than the conversation we’d had at the service station.

Wandering about the shops the following day, I picked up a nice twin-bunk and desk sort of thing for Gareth’s room from a second-hand shop: some new curtains and pictures completed our furnishings. I even bought a couple of tins of paint and tarted up the kitchen. By the time I’d finished, the place was looking good. I spent the evening making up Gareth’s bed, putting some of his clothes in the drawers and arranging his things for him. I wondered idly how often the bed was going to be used. Midnight came and I called him. He was pleased to hear my voice and we chatted idly about odds and ends for a while before I realised that there was something wrong. “What’s the matter?” I asked, worried.

“Nothing,” he answered, but I could tell he was lying.

“Come on, what’s up?”

“Dad hit me today,” he said quietly.

I was furious. “Why?” I demanded.

“Dunno. I was late home from school because we’d been playing football and he smacked me when I got in.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No, not much. I don’t care anyway.”

I comforted him as much as I could and told him not to worry, it wouldn’t last much longer. When he told me that the same thing had happened again two days later, I made my mind up to do something about it.

“Listen. Tell your mum that I’ll be up Saturday to pick you up. Don’t tell your dad, get your mum to tell him. And to ring me as well.”

I got the phone call the following morning. She was embarrassed as hell telling me about it, but I couldn’t care less, she was in a better position than anyone to put a stop to it, but she never had in all the years I’d known her. Sympathy was in short supply. “If it’s alright with you, I can come and get Gareth on Saturday. I’ve spoken to him and its OK with him.”

She sounded relieved and said it would be OK. I lied and added that I wouldn’t have much spare time so it would be a flying visit and I wouldn’t be able to stop. My aunt knew exactly what I was saying and didn’t argue. How she handled her husband I couldn’t care less about, it wasn’t my problem. Gareth was.

I sent a text message to Gareth straight away telling him to get packed as I was collecting him in two days. The one word reply was ‘thanks!’. Two minutes later I got another one, ‘already packed!’ At least he hadn’t lost his sense of humour.

Ten to eight Saturday morning I called Gareth to say that I would be there in ten minutes. I turned into their road and somewhat nervously pulled up outside, fully expecting to walk into a major row with his father. Instead I was greeted with Gareth and his mum waiting at the door with his suitcase and a jumble of boxes. His dad, I was told, had chosen to go out early and see his other two sons rather than be at home when I arrived. I breathed a sigh of relief and helped load the car. With a quick hug and kiss, Gareth said goodbye to him mum. I am sure he was going to miss her a lot, but knew at the bottom of his heart that she couldn’t do much to help him other than let him go.

We didn’t talk for the first twenty minutes. I left Gareth alone with his thoughts; it must be a gut-wrenching feeling knowing that you’re leaving the home you grew up in, regardless of the situation.

Unlike his usual self, he was leaning in the corner of the car, staring into space.

“Hungry?” I asked.

He shook his head no. This was odd in the extreme – Gareth not hungry?

I turned to face him. For a second we locked eyes. He suddenly burst into tears and threw himself at me, wrapping his arms round my neck and sobbing his heart out. Instantly I pulled over to the side of the road and switched the engine off. I put my arms round him and hugged. At first I didn’t know whether they were tears of happiness or tears of pain, but soon knew as I felt him flinch when I touched his back. Carefully I leaned him forward and lifted his shirt up. On his back were two ugly red weals. Belt marks. There were two bright red buckle marks showing clearly on his shoulder blades. I was as angry as I have ever been – at that moment I could have cheerfully killed his father. I was more than angry, I was filled with a deep and passionate loathing for a man who could do that to his own son, no matter what he’d done.

I hugged him close to me, letting the tears flow, joined I might add by my own. I was angry, frustrated, and desperately, desperately sorry for him, a feeling made infinitely worse because I knew there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. Except one thing.

Picking his head up, I kissed him on the forehead and wiping the tears from his red-rimmed eyes, stroked his cheek.

“Come on,” I whispered, “It’s all over now. It won’t happen again, ever.”

Managing a very slight smile, he squeezed up close to me, kissed me on the neck and rested his head on my shoulder, arms draped about my neck.

I started the car and moved off, no longer angry, but seriously concerned for a very unhappy young man.

There was a McDonald’s down the road and I turned off into the car park. Gareth, worn out with crying was dozing on my shoulder and didn’t notice until we stopped as far away from other cars as possible. I eased him up and watched his eyes open blearily.

“Stay there,” I said quietly. “I’ll go and get us something to eat.”

He simply nodded and watched me walk back to the shop. I returned with two bags filled with food and drink, enough for an army I thought. Placing the food between us, I watched him dig into it, alternately filling his mouth with bacon sandwiches and orange juice. Once I felt he was calm, I asked him what happened.

In between mouthfuls, I learned that Gareth had been packing some things in boxes ready to bring with him. He’d been up and downstairs a couple of times to ask if it was alright if he took this or that something or other when, on the third time, his father had jumped up, grabbed him by the neck and taken his belt to him.

“If you wanna fucking go, then fucking go. Get upstairs and pack every fucking thing you own. And don’t let me see you again, you fucking …….” Gareth was unable to say the actual word he used. He was staring down at the half-eaten roll in his hand, all interest in food lost for the time being.

“Right,” I said with a cheerfulness I didn’t feel. “Tell you what. Let’s get out of here, turn left and just drive and drive and drive until we can’t go any further!”

He giggled at this and finished his food. Tossing the atlas to him, I said, “Stick a pin in it wherever you like and we’ll go there. As long as it’s on the right-hand side of page 80 anyway.”

Batting me on the head with the book, he rolled over, curled up smiling at me, dropped his head in my lap and stuck his thumb in his mouth. Life was returning to normal.

We drove on towards Dover, taking it slow and easy, enjoying the countryside and each other, letting the unpleasant events slip into the past.

We’d left Milton Keynes very early, and it was still before lunch time when, driving slowly up a steep hill, I felt like a break.

“Wanna stop for a break?” I asked.

Gareth grinned at me, rolled his head on my cock and grasped his balls in his hands.

“You randy little sod!” I laughed, “No, not that. Not yet anyway. I meant a break to stretch your legs.”

“Oh! OK then. Unless ……” He joked grabbing his crotch again.

“No!” I insisted, “Much as I love you, there are times and places, and this is neither the time nor the place. We’re on a main road and I don’t want to frighten the natives!”

We sat on a bench on the hilltop, overlooking the country. The view was magnificent. I sat in the corner of the bench, Gareth leaning on me finishing off a tin of Coke.

“Do you know,” he mused, “ It would take 25 cums to fill this tin.”

I looked at him. Where the hell had that one come from?

He carried on, “If I cum every day for a year, that would be over three litres of spunk.” He giggled at the thought, “And if you did it as well, that would be four litres.”

“Where on Earth did you get that from?” I laughed.

“Read it last week at school. You make between ten and twenty millilitres of spunk every time you cum. So if you collected it every day ………….”

“I know, I know. There’s no need to go on about it. What would you do with it all anyway?”

“Hadn’t thought of that. Be fun trying though wouldn’t it. Wonder if you can sell it?”

We grinned at the thought and nestled closer together. My Gareth was back and on good form. We basked in the warm sun for another hour or so before deciding to carry on with our journey. I couldn’t get the thought of coke tins filled with cum neatly stacked in the fridge out of my mind! God help anyone who picked the wrong tin up!

Early afternoon and we parked outside our new home. A week earlier that I’d originally planned, and under vastly different circumstances, but nevertheless we were here. Gareth bounced out of the car, grabbed a few boxes and bounded up the path to the front door. Within minutes, the floor was covered with half-emptied boxes, an upturned suitcase and grinning Gareth squatted in the middle surveying the chaos. I smiled at him and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. When I returned with the two steaming cups, I handed him one and sat in the chair studiously ignoring him.

“Hey! Ain’t you gonna help?” he squealed.

“Nope. You made the mess. You clear it up. First rule of the house.”

Pulling a face he stuck his tongue out at me, but nevertheless started to stack his books up in a pile. Soon there were little piles of clothes, books, photographs and other odds and ends circled around him.

“Right!” he said, “Now I can put ‘em away.”

Cramming a pile of books under his arm, he turned round and round in the room, obviously looking for somewhere to put them.

“In your room,” I said. He hadn’t got as far as that yet, and hadn’t seen the changes I’d made. Running down the corridor he threw open his door and stared, open-mouthed.

“Brilliant!” he shouted, “Fantastic!”

Following him down, I put a hand on his shoulder as he gazed round. Gleefully he carefully ranged his books on the desk and rushed back to get another stack. Ten minutes later and he was all set up. Sitting down at the desk, he pretended to write, testing the height of the top, his face glowing with delight. Then he noticed the bunk bed, the bottom one neatly made up.

“I haven’t got to sleep there, have I?” he asked, going quiet all of a sudden.

“No. Not all the time, but I think we aught to talk about it sometime, though, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I suppose, but not yet.” He looked at the bed carefully. “I guess there’s room for two, if we squish up real close,” he grinned, “I mean REAL close!” I pulled a face, and left him to it.

Returning to the living room, I noticed it had grown dark outside and I drew the curtains and put the lights on. Gareth turned on the tv and came to sit on my lap. The room was pleasantly warm and comfortable, far better than I thought it would be, remembering what it was like when I first saw it. Gareth settled down, stuck his thumb in his mouth and watched the television. Thirty seconds later he stood up, took his shirt and trousers off and plumped himself back on my lap. I stared at his torso. The raw weals had begun to fade already, the bright red marks almost gone to leave just a faint shadow, except where the buckle marks were.

Gareth was home now, and showed it. I saw the reflection of us on the tv screen, and I must admit we looked good. He was neatly curled up in a ball on my lap, clad in nothing but his red underpants, and resting his soft brown hair on my shoulder. I stuck my tongue out at him, watching his image on the screen. He twisted round slightly, cupped his hands round my ears and whispered, “Love you lots!”

This was what I had planned for ever since the idea first came to me, never for an instant thinking it would ever come happen if the truth be known, but here we now were, the perfect family of two. I nuzzled my nose against his neck and licked his ear. “Love you too.”

He smiled at me, the smile saying everything I wanted. For maybe an hour we sat there relishing the tranquillity and each other’s company. I wondered when the last time he’d sat on someone’s lap and had a cuddle was. Even 13-year-olds need it once in a while; hell, even twenty-something year-olds do!

The tv programme changed and Gareth moved. Kneeling on the floor between my legs, he looked up at my face, with that wicked smile I knew meant trouble! Slowly he loosened my belt and unfastened my trousers. He pulled my shirt off and looked at me with big, round sheeps-eyes. “Get up a minute,” he whispered. I did as I was asked. Pulling my pants and trousers down and off, he knelt back down again, taking my cock in his hand and staring at it intently as if seeing it for the first time. Slowly it began to erect, aided by Gareth squeezing it from time to time. Without letting go of it once, he worked his own pants off with one hand and allowed his boner to spring free. I leaned over, intending to pick him up and sit him back on my lap, but a single glance told me not to move a muscle. He was in total charge and I was under his command. I did as I was told. Almost lazily he reached over and took my cock in his mouth and let it rest there, his tongue just tickling the end of it inside the foreskin. His own dick remained untouched, keeping time with his pulse. Very slowly he allowed a little more to enter his mouth, ensuring every millimetre was licked and tasted before moving on. To my amazement he managed to take all of it into his mouth and down his throat, sucking and licking without pause. His dick was leaking pre-cum as I’d never seen it before, but was being ignored. Pushing my cock out of his mouth with his tongue, he stood up and without a word pulled me to my feet and urged me along the corridor. We went into his room and he closed the door behind us. Reaching up to kiss me, I felt his hands on my waist easing me down onto his bed. I lay back, waiting for his next move. Climbing over, he took my cock in his mouth again, offering his to me. Gratefully, I took it and slurped on it carefully and gently. The silky-smooth skin and slightly salty taste of his dick was pure magic. I worked my tongue in and out of his foreskin, licking gently around his piss-slit, tickling it as much as I could. He was totally involved in my own steel-hard boner, doing everything possible to give me as much pleasure as humanly possible. Eventually his mouth and tongue tired and he turned to lay on top of me, licking his tongue along my lips. I could taste my own pre-cum as he edged his way inside my mouth. I reached down and found his cock, holding it gently in my fingers before I started to rub it. I heard him moan softly into my throat; a soft guttural moan, almost feral-like in its intensity. I started to masturbate him seriously, knowing that if he carried on like this, it would only be a matter of minutes before I came.

“No, don’t,” I heard him purr. “I want to do this all night.”

Giving myself up to him once more, I kissed him deeply. Lazily, taking all the time in the world, I submerged myself in Gareth, marvelling at his innate skill in pleasing me with every move he made. Every touch, every kiss, every minute gesture was pure bliss. Gone was the little boy, gone was the nervous teenager, gone was the little man. Here was the essence of pure, innocent love, with only one aim in mind: to give and receive as much affection as he possibly could. We held, fondled, caressed and played with each other for seeming hours. Strangely enough, it didn’t even seem to be sexual. We were two lovers taking pure joy and simple satisfaction from the mere physical contact we had with each other.

It couldn’t last forever though, much as we would have liked it to. Gareth was kissing me when I felt his body pulsate just twice and a warm, wet feeling spreading outwards from my groin.

“Fuck it! Fuck it!” Gareth muttered, just audibly.

It didn’t stop him though, with only the briefest of pauses he kissed me again, holding my face in his hands. I don’t think his dick softened for a second. I’d almost cum half-a-dozen times during our play, just managing to forestall it each time by thinking I’d spoil it for him if I did. There was no way could I do what he’d just done, have a cum and carry on as if nothing had happened.

Once more he turned round and sucked my dick into his mouth. I accepted the proffered gift from him once more and happily sucked out what remained of his cum, ensuring every part was fastidiously washed by my tongue. Yet again he orgasmed, ejecting solid pellets of boy-cum into my mouth with unbelievable force. This time I lost it completely, there was no way could my body take any more. I bucked and thrashed around as my cock throbbed and pulsated every last drop of my essence into Gareth’s waiting mouth. Eagerly he swallowed every drop, struggling to keep pace with the sheer volume of it.

Satisfied at last, he turned over and nestled into my arms, sweating and breathing heavily.

He looked at me, his eyes saying everything he couldn’t. Pulling me down to him, he wrapped his fingers in my hair as if to fix me in place, closed his eyes and was soon asleep. Not before he whispered, “three litres!” in my ear and grinned evilly.

We both awoke half an hour later feeling the chill of the night air. I struggled off the bed and made to wrap Gareth up in his blanket and let him sleep. No chance. He folded his arms round my neck and said sleepily, “Take me to bed. Our proper bed.” Once more I did as I was told.

Stretching out, Gareth snuggled up with his back to me, fitting my soft dick between his thighs and cupping my hands over his cock and balls, resting his own on top so I couldn’t remove them. Pressing himself as tightly as he could into my front, he murmured a soft goodnight.

We woke up several hours later in exactly the same position except we both had boners which needed taking care of. Slowly and lazily, in that strange dream-like state between sleeping and waking, we masturbated each other to a wonderful, amazingly fulfilling orgasm. This is how every day should start!

The day was spent lazily putting the finishing touches to the flat, buying food and wandering around town. I decided to open a bank account for Gareth and put half the money his father sent in it for him. That way he had some measure of independence and didn’t need to come to me for every penny he wanted. We also went to the Education Office and started the process of enrolling him in school. After lunch we went for a ride round and found a place where he could drive for a while. Intermittently we chatted about how we were going to survive living together. Between us, we established some basic ground rules. In the main, we agreed that he should ring or write to his mum and dad at least once a week, if only to let his mother know he was still alive and well! We would share the washing and cleaning of the flat (we’d see how that one went!), and lastly he would sleep in his own bed on school nights, and we would only share the same bed at week-ends. This pissed him off at first, but soon saw reason when I explained the consequences if anyone asked why he was so sleepy at school, and discovered that he never slept in his own bed!

One of the more interesting discussions we had was about Dover. Being a cosmopolitan town, with a high proportion of itinerants, it had its problems. The drink and drugs never worried me that much as I knew Gareth wasn’t the slightest bit interested in either. There were a fair number of gangs in the town, consisting mainly of unemployed youngsters and the inevitable schoolboy hangers-on. So far Gareth hadn’t expressed any interest in this side either, but I felt he needed to be wary of them. Certain areas of the town were best avoided, especially after dark. Lastly I’d noticed that there was also a thriving cottaging side to the town as well. You only had to visit a public toilet to pick that one up. I tried to explain this to Gareth in a way I thought he might understand, but was stopped in my tracks when he said, “Don’t you think that goes on in Milton Keynes as well?” I paused and thought about it. Gareth and I had a good, active, sex life together, and he was obviously very sexually aware! He was also very attractive, and could behave and dress in a most provocative manner when he wanted, as I knew to my cost!

He told me in no uncertain terms that he was in no way interested in that sort of thing, especially with strangers, and who did I think he was anyway! For the first time, we were on the edge of an argument, him feeling that I was getting over-protective and not crediting him with any sense, and me worrying about him too much. To be quite fair, he was quite honest and said that he’d messed about with a couple of boys at school a few times, but since we’d been together, he’d only done it a couple of times, and what was wrong with that anyway, he said. As far as anything he and I did in the privacy of our own home, that was up to us – he just couldn’t imagine wanting to do anything like that with anyone else, let alone strangers. That satisfied me, and the subject was never mentioned again.

 

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