Gareth and Phil
by Alexander

 

Chapter 13

They were sound asleep when I awoke and so left them and went to shower and get something to eat. They were still in bed at ten o’clock and so I went through and woke them. Taking two mugs of coffee into the bedroom ten minutes later, I saw they were now wide awake, laying face down on the bed, watching the video and as naked as they come! They rolled over as I opened the door, and looked at me. Jake made half an effort to cover himself, grinned, shrugged his shoulders, and sat up. Gareth just sat up.

“‘Bout time you were up,” I said. “It’s nearly lunch time. A panic-stricken glance at the clock earned me a tongue stuck out. “And when you’re up, you might strip the bed, and open a window. It smells like a,” I paused, searching for the right word. “Bordello in here. And before you ask, look it up!”

Once I’d made sure the boys had eaten something, I allowed them out. Like last week, they headed for down town, Gareth telling me that he’d be home in time for tea.

He arrived on time, but not hungry. Apparently they’d stuffed themselves so full of burgers that he wasn’t at all hungry. I made do with some sandwiches and asked Gareth if he’d had a good day.

“Yeah. We went round the town a couple of times, met some mates from school and just knocked around.”

A few weeks ago, I would have worried about him wandering around town, but now I knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t get into any bother.

“Everything else OK?” I asked.

“Yeah. Oh, and Jake says, Hi! And thanks for a good time’.”

I looked at him seriously.

“I mean it,” he laughed, “Don’t worry. He really did have a good time and he’s coming over next week.”

I relaxed and sat down, Gareth joining me after he’d opened a tin of Coke for himself.

“So, Tiger, What’s new?” I said, putting an arm round him.

“Nothing really. ‘Cept I’m glad to be home with just you and me.”

I know how he felt.

“Let’s switch off,” he murmured after a while.

I wondered what he meant at first, but as I watched him organise things, I began to understand. First he put an old ‘Indiana Jones’ film in the machine, pulled the curtains and turned all the lights off. He then stripped down to his pants and stood in front of me, thumb in his mouth. I got the idea. I quickly stripped off my shorts and shirt, sat down and let him get comfortable.

Just once in a while he likes to revert to being a child. Not so often that it’s a problem, but frequently enough. I remember reading a psychology book years ago about Regression Therapy whereby psychologists encourage patients who have some sorts of problem to regress, back to a point in time before their difficulties started, and gradually bring them forwards, hopefully curing their problem in the process. I may be wrong, but I think Gareth was doing the same sort of thing without knowing. We’d never spoken much about his life at home before we met, partly because I didn’t want to pry, and also because I knew a lot of it was painful to remember. Just once in a while when something stirred up a bad memory, I saw him wince and wipe a tear away. His usual reaction was to shrug his shoulders and hug me, just for a second as if to confirm I was still there.

There was one sure-fire way to tell when he wanted comfort and not ‘a funny half hour’ – his dick stayed soft! Tonight was a ‘soft-dick’ night. Reaching beside the chair, I took my jacket and wrapped him up in it. His eyes said ‘thanks’ and he turned to Indiana Jones.

We hardly spoke at all during the evening, and apart from making ourselves a drink, didn’t stir from the chair. When the second film ended, we turned the set off and headed for bed. Once settled and laying back, Gareth turned to me and said, “Do you think I’m queer?”

I was suddenly wide awake and alert. What on Earth had brought that up?

I looked at him, nestled in my arms, trying to work out why he’d suddenly asked me that.

“I don’t know. What’s made you think of that? Nothing happened at school or anywhere has it?”

I felt a cold chill in my stomach as all the possibilities which could cause him to raise this particular topic flashed through my mind.

“No. Nothing. It’s just something that Jake said today.”

“What?”

“He said that he likes, er, messing about like we do, but thinks he shouldn’t do it.”

“What did you say?”

“I said that if he likes it then it was OK.”

He went on to say that Jake was embarrassed at first when he saw Gareth and me and how we got nearly naked and sat together in our chair and hugged each other and things. They never did that in his house, but when he got used to it, he thought it was OK and felt sort of jealous of us.

“That’s why he likes to come round at tea-times,” Gareth carried on. “And getting undressed as well. He thinks it’s cool.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re queer though,” I said, “If you like doing it, then why not. I think it’s cool too.”

“Yeah, but when we do the other things, then he likes that as well, and he thinks he shouldn’t.”

I thought for a minute and then said, “What do you think? Not about Jake, but about you and me.”

There was a long pause before he hugged me and said, “I like it. Ever since you and me, you know, did it the first time on the airfield, I liked it.”

He paused again, trying to find the right words.

“I thought about it a lot when you weren’t around, and I missed you. Not ‘cause we messed about, but that was part of it. You and me sort of fit together and even when we don’t do any sex, then we like to be near each other, don’t we?”

“Yes,” I agreed, “We do.” I didn’t know what to say next, so I waited for him to carry on.

“I like being here with you better than I ever did with mum, and dad,” he added. “And that doesn’t seem right somehow.”

“When you were living at home, it wasn’t all that good was it?” I said, carefully. “And you weren’t very happy most of the time.”

He nodded his head slowly.

“Well, I think they love you very much, but didn’t know how to show it.” I wasn’t sure if this was true or not, but the alternative thought would be too much for him to bear. “And some people lash out in frustration when they can’t express their feelings.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said.

I hugged him again and he smiled at me.

I went on, “I think you are a special sort of person, and I’m very lucky to have you. The sex things we do are a sort of extra if you like, something that we do because we love and take care of each other. Whether we are queer or not, doesn’t matter in the slightest to me. I know that I don’t feel the same way as most people do about girls, and you haven’t had the chance to find out yet. But whichever way you grow up, then you and me will still be very special, for always.”

“Yeah, I know. And I don’t ever want to go back to Milton Keynes to live, ever, ever, ever.”

There were tears starting to drip from his eyes and he hugged me tightly.

“Ok,” I whispered, “You aren’t going to. I wouldn’t let you anyway!” I managed a smile as I looked at him.

“It’s best when you and me are like this, sort of talking and together in bed. I don’t care what Jake thinks or does, that’s his problem I suppose. But I like this.” He squirmed in my arms and brightened up a little. “And best of all, I like it when we, you know, do it properly and I go all funny and freak out.”

We giggled together and he wriggled himself on top of me, head on my chest.

“What about Jake?” I whispered.

“Don’t know. I like him lots and even if he didn’t wanna mess about anymore, then I’d still be best friends with him. And I don’t like three-somes!” he giggled. “I can’t split myself in two and I get confused!”

He was feeling a great deal better now he’d got all that off his chest. He was happy now, and hopefully less confused about his feelings. What happens between him and Jake was in the lap of the Gods, and whichever way it worked out, then I hoped they would still be friends: I’d a strong feeling they would.

Another clue to his mood change was that he’d got a hard on, which I felt pressing into my belly. I looked at him and grinned, “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. And randy! Can we do it?”

After our conversation, we both felt the need to get close and re-affirm our love. Sex may not be the be-all and end-all of our relationship, but it certainly was an agreeable part of it!

He sat up and rested his hands on my nipples, rubbing them with his palms. Staring into my eyes, he felt behind him and grasped my dick between his fingers and thumb. There was only a moments pause before I entered his tunnel and he relaxed down on me.

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, not moving a muscle. Slowly he leaned down and stretched out, his arms on my shoulders.

“Turn over,” he whispered, “and don’t let it come out.”

We rolled over and he lifted his legs up.

“Fuck me,” he whispered, “Please.”

I started to work myself in and out, making sure he felt every little movement. Slowly and tenderly I began to please him. Using all the skill and technique I had, I fucked him. He reached down to his own pre-cum slicked cock and stroked it, keeping time with me.

“Do it. Do it. Harder. Quick,” he gasped on each thrust, “Quicker.”

I did. The grey mist descended and I forced myself in and out just as fast as I could. Gareth was squealing loudly and thrashing round the bed. I didn’t care, I was way past that, trying urgently to shoot my waiting load of super-hot cum into Gareth’s rectum with as much force as I could, to satisfy him as well as me. I was getting towards the end of my tether and struggling to keep the pace up when Gareth, with a last desperate shout, shuddered and fired his cum out like a rocket, so powerfully that I could almost hear it. In sympathy I managed one last, ball-busting push and I sprayed his inside with everything I had.

It was the most violent and painful sex we’d ever had: something we both wanted and needed at the time, but when I’d calmed down, I regretted it badly. It wasn’t love when done like that, it was sheer unadulterated lust. I felt as if I’d raped him and the feeling wasn’t a good one.

When Gareth was able to talk some ten minutes later, I almost broke down in tears as I tried to apologise to him, over and over again. He looked at me, still not quite able to focus his eyes properly and shook his head.

“Don’t,” he said softly, “Don’t. I’m alright, I’m OK.”

I hugged him, still grovelling an apology.

He shut me up by kissing me firmly. “That was different,” he laughed. “I thought your dick was going to come up through my bloody mouth!”

Seeing him still fairly cheerful, I felt a bit better. Carefully I picked my very tender cock up and examined it closely.

Gareth looked at it with me, still grinning at me. “What you looking at? Broken it?”

“Blood,” I said simply.

He looked concerned for a second, wiped his finger round his butt and peered at it.

“Nope. None here. You?”

I couldn’t see any, and told him so.

“Good. Said I was OK didn’t I. Dickhead!”

I was still very unsettled and Gareth, bless him, tried to make me feel better by saying, “I weirded out again, so it must’ve been a good one for me as well. We’re getting good at this aren’t we.”

It was the first time he’d had to pacify me after sex, and I was grateful he was the wonderful, caring, adorable boy he was.

I slept very badly that night, having a nightmare that I’d damaged him seriously. Each time I woke up, Gareth was there, looking worried and frightened. I don’t think he slept at all that night. I felt a bit better when dawn came and we were still cuddled up together.

Gareth, realising I was awake, kissed me lightly on the forehead and told me to stay in bed, he’d get us some breakfast. I was too tired to argue and watched as he skipped off.

He returned with an enormous tray of food: cereal, toast and coffee. Balancing it carefully, he clambered back into bed and sat up against the headboard. He handed me the cup and a slice of toast. “Eat,” he said.

He kept looking at me as he ate, his eyes dancing with laughter and an amused grin on his face, shaking his head from side to side once in a while as if I was an idiot child. Eventually his antics made me stop feeling sorry for myself and I smiled at him.

“That’s better,” he said, sounding just like I did when I was comforting him. “Let’s stay in bed all day today.”

That sounded like a very good idea and I lay back, at peace with life once more. I must have dozed off because I was only dimly aware of Gareth getting out of bed and hearing him pottering about the flat. It wasn’t until almost midday when he slid in beside me, cuddled up and kissed me.

“Flats done,” he said. “Cleaned, tidied and sorted. So you can stay where you are.”

When I got up to go to the bathroom I saw he’d done a good job, it was as good a one as I could have done. Then a thought struck me. “Haven’t you got dressed yet?” I asked.

“Nope. No point ‘cause I was coming back to bed anyway, so I didn’t bother.”

I grinned at the thought of a nude Gareth bustling about, duster in one hand and a brush in the other.

“Come on,” I said, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, “Let’s go out.”

We showered together, affectionately soaping and washing each other before drying off and going back in the bedroom.

He rustled through my drawers and dug out a pair of shorts and T-shirt, a pair of pants and socks, and threw them to me. From another draw, he produced an identical set, even down to the pants.

Once dressed we stood in front of the mirror side-by-side and grinned at each other.

“Perfect!” he giggled, “Now we can go out.”

On Tuesday Gareth and Jake came back to the flat after school for tea as usual, before they went of to their swimming club, and as usual they stripped off. Before leaving they disappeared into Gareth’s room for ten minutes, I’d assumed for Gareth to get into his T-shirt and shorts. When they came out, Gareth was dressed and ready, but Jake wasn’t. I looked at them curiously and Gary said that Jake wasn’t going swimming as he wasn’t feeling very well.

“I said that I wouldn’t go either, but Jake said I should. Just because he isn’t going, that was no reason why I shouldn’t. Can he stay here until I get back, and then I can walk home with him?”

I thought it rather odd, but said it was alright. It was even stranger that Jake hadn’t got himself dressed, knowing that he would be here alone with me, at least until his mate came home. When I looked to Gareth for some sort of explanation, he didn’t react at all. It was only when he was leaving the flat that he indicated for me to follow him. Once outside the door, he quickly whispered that Jake wanted to talk to me alone. I started to ask him what it was all about, when he grinned and said he’d see me later.

The last thing I felt like doing was coping with another teenagers problems; I’d had enough with Gareth and me the past couple of weeks, and the idea of listening to Jake’s problems as well made me feel uncomfortable. Closing the flat door, I looked at Jake and asked if he was feeling alright.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” he mumbled, “I just didn’t feel like swimming today.”

I hadn’t a clue what to do with him for the next couple of hours and so I turned the tv on and invited him to put whatever video on he wanted. I sat in my chair and opened my book. A few minutes later, I was conscious of the volume being turned down and the boy stood next to me, his groin level with my eyes, thankfully without an erection.

I looked up at him with my eyebrows raised.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, looking down at his feet.

‘Here it comes,’ I thought, and steeled myself, “Yes, of course.”

He sat on the edge of the chair, resting his arm along the back. “Do you mind me coming here with Gareth?” was the surprising start.

“No, of course not. You’re welcome anytime you like.”

“And you don’t mind what we do?”

I assumed he meant the sexual things, and replied, “After the other night, what do you think?”

He took the opportunity to slide into my lap and rested his clasped hands in his groin, with his legs dangling over the arm of the chair. He blushed deep red at my comment, and said, “I wasn’t sure,” very quietly. Once again, I was struck how very attractive his freckles made him look when he blushed.

I was still not very happy with the situation he’d put me in though, especially as Gareth wasn’t here.

“I’ve got four brothers and sisters at home, and I’m the oldest. They never seem to have much time for me these days, and the house is always noisy and smells of washing and ironing.”

I couldn’t resist a smile as I saw his nose wrinkle up at the memory.

“That’s why I like coming here. It’s so sort of calm and peaceful, and I like Gareth ‘cause we can talk and do things together.”

I nodded in agreement and looked closely at him, taking in his whole body, for the first time really. His skin was flawless, not a mark or a scratch anywhere; he was toned that lovely olive-sort of colour which showed how much time he spent outdoors in the sun. His legs and arms were smothered in that fine down-like hair which added immeasurably to his masculine beauty.

“And Gareth can walk around in just his pants. My brothers and sisters do at my house, ‘cause they’re littler than me, I like doing it as well sometimes, but I’m not allowed to and when I do it, I get a boll…….., a telling off.”

There was a slight pause as he thought what to say next.

“I share a bedroom with Michael, that’s my brother and he’s only ten. I never seem to get any peace and quiet.”

I let him ramble on, not terribly sure where he was heading, if anywhere. I learned that he and his brother used to ‘do things’ together sometimes, but only when Michael was in the mood. In any case, Jake was worried that someday he might let it slip out what they had been doing. Since he’d met up with Gareth though, they hadn’t done anything. I began to understand that there wasn’t really any particular point to Jake’s ramblings, it was just that he wanted someone to talk to. I felt happier now that I understood where he was coming from, if not where he was heading.

“It’s good that you and Gareth can sort of ‘get it on’ as well, whenever you want, I wish I could.” I saw a tent rising in his pants, and to my horror, found I was hardening up as well.

“What’s Gareth been saying?” I said, forcing what I hoped looked like a sympathetic smile.

“Oh, nothing really, except that you and him sometimes sleep in the same bed and do things.”

“Such as what?” I asked, now very concerned.

“You know, like the other night. Errr, masturbating and err, err, BJ’ing.”

He found that bit hard to say, I guess because he didn’t want to use the words he would normally have used. I also knew that he didn’t know that Gareth and I did a little more that sucking and jerking each other off! I breathed an immense sigh of relief.

“Oh, you mean wanking and blow-jobs,” I said, laughing at him a little. “Don’t be frightened, I know the words! Would you believe Gareth and me have heard them once or twice before?”

He grinned back at me, obviously relieved. “Yeah, well. You two do it twice a week, and I’m lucky if I get it once.”

Once more I had reason to thank my ‘brother’ for his intelligence and discretion. “It’s no big deal. We both like it and it does us good once in a while. Sort of takes the pressure off.”

His boner was now solid, and I was sure he could feel mine pressing into his backside. He moved his hands out of his groin, adjusted his cock and looked at me, pleadingly. I knew what was coming next and I hadn’t a clue what I was going to do about it. I knew what I’d like to do, and I’m sure Jake had the same idea too, but it wouldn’t be fair to Gareth, either from my side or Gareth’s. He’d be seriously upset if he ever got to find out about it. I dearly wished he was here now to help me.

“Gareth wouldn’t mind,” Jake said as if reading my mind.

“How do you know?” I asked, “It wouldn’t be fair to him, would it?”

“ ‘Cause we’ve talked about it,” he said, his nerves making his voice tremble. “It’s not like you’re lovers or anything, you’re brothers and I wouldn’t care if my brother did it with anyone else, and he couldn’t give a toss what I do.”

This threw me until I recalled a conversation Gareth and me had about this sort of situation and I felt a bit better. Not happy, but better.

“But I’m a lot older than you, and I’m not your brother,” I said in a last-ditch attempt to stop things going any further. “That makes a difference.”

“So? I don’t really care. Would you?”

I looked at him seriously, trying to make my mind up. “Only if we tell him afterwards,” I said quietly.

He nodded seriously and dropped his arm round my neck. Gareth had told me that he didn’t like kissing, and didn’t …. well, that wouldn’t come into it anyway.

“Where do you want to go?” I asked. “Here or the bedroom?”

His face didn’t change, he still looked a bit embarrassed although he’d given up any attempts to disguise his erection.

“The bedroom?”

“OK, then let’s go.” I tried to smile at him and make him feel better.

Despite the fact that I’d just been effectively seduced by Jake, he was the one who looked guilty. If he was to enjoy the fruits of his hard-won labours, I had to make sure he was comfortable with himself otherwise it would be a complete disaster for us both.

“Come on, it’s not the end of the world. And who knows, you might even like it. You certainly did the other night!”

He grinned broadly at this and stood up. Pulling myself to my feet, I looked down at the tent in my trousers. “I’m ready, and I can see you are. Shall we go for it?”

The walk to the bedroom seemed to take for ever, and once there, he lay down in the middle of the bed, arms straight down by his side, his prick standing up in his pants. He looked just like a virgin waiting to be taken, which in some ways I suppose he was.

I lay along side him and put my hand on his stomach, feeling it tense up. I slid my hand down to his pants and rested the palm of my hand on his dick, rubbing it very slightly.

“Just relax and enjoy it,” I whispered. “When you’re ready, take your pants off if you like, but you haven’t got to do anything you don’t want, and we can stop whenever you like.”

He nodded and raised a slight smile.

Not enjoying being kissed made it a little harder for me, Gareth loved it and we always started with a kiss and a cuddle. Instead I ran my hands over his torso, taking care to massage his nipples gently and stroke his waist. I moved down to his thighs and softly stroked them, watching his cock jump and twitch with every move I made. I watched the wet spot grow bigger in his pants.

Delicately I picked his hand up and place it on top of my cock, just as mine was on his. He got the idea straightaway and copied me, move for move. I put my hand on his waist and turned him over to face me.

“What do you like doing best?” I whispered as I ran my fingers up and down his dick, now leaking profusely.

There wasn’t a moment’s hesitation, “Being played with and then being sucked,” he said tremulously.

I slid a hand under his pants and took the weight of his balls in my hand. He did the same. With my other hand I started to work my pants off for him. He tried to take his down but couldn’t quite manage it, so I let go of his tackle and shoved mine off, allowing him to remove his. Now naked we cuddled up closer and for a few seconds embraced before putting our hands back where they were.

“That’s better,” I murmured in his ear. “Much better.”

I couldn’t quite make out what he mumbled in reply, but it was something similar.

He began to masturbate me seriously, but I made him slow down with a reminder that we weren’t in a hurry and it would be a lot nicer if we took our time. Easing off the pace, he used both hands to feel all round my cock and balls, but not venturing an inch beyond that invisible line separating ‘balls’ from ‘butt’.

He was good. His fingers danced feather-light up and down my dick, collecting a finger-full of pre-cum and massaging it into my navel and cock-hair. At least he’d done that before I noted, probably to himself. We played with each other for as long as I felt he could before it was too much. Twisting myself round, I put his dick in front of my lips and licked it all round. Tentatively I felt his tongue exploring mine, and before long he’d taken as much of it into his mouth as he could, licking and sucking on it as hard as he could. I was about to ask him if he wanted me to tell him when I was coming, but I thought that would be an unwanted distraction for him and kept quiet. He could sort that one out himself. Meanwhile I was thoroughly enjoying the feeling and taste of his beautiful uncircumcised tool in my mouth. He was a bit longer than Gareth and reached just a little bit further down my throat than him; only a little but the difference was amazing. That, and the delight he got when I tickled round under his delightful naked cockhead was magnificent. I tried to make it last as long as I possibly could for him, but the novelty and excitement were just too much for him. I was holding his balls when I felt them draw up into his groin, simultaneous with his dick enlarging down my throat.

I squeezed his balls gently and sucked as hard as I could, washing his cock-head with my tongue at the same time, waiting for the pleasure of eating his juices.

“Ughhh … Ughhh … Ughhh,” I heard him moan as he shot his load into my mouth, each spurt given extra force by his the impassioned and manic thrusting of his groin. I swallowed as much as I could, only a little dribbling from my lips. I was aware that I came at the same time, and also aware that it ended up in his mouth.

“Jesus Christ! Fucking Bloody Hell!” he said as his cock slowly softened, face suffused bright pink, “Jesus!”

I’d never heard him swear before, nothing heavy anyway and it came as a bit of a shock to hear him. Even in extremis Gareth only swore mildly.

I grinned up at his radiant face.

“That was fucking ace!” he almost shouted, “Fuck ……..” He stopped and looked at me. “Sorry, I couldn’t help swearing, but …..”

“Ok, never mind. I trust you enjoyed it then?”

“Yeah. Oh, yeah. Like never before!”

He lay there, blissfully happy, his now wilted cock drooping and resting over his balls. Gareth was right, his few cock-hairs were bright ginger. And cum-stained.

“You’d better get a shower,” I laughed. “I assume your mother thinks you’ve been swimming.”

“Yeah, she does. When’s Gareth home?”

I looked at my watch, “About half an hour I guess.”

“Good.” He picked up his discarded pants and looked at the heavy pre-cum damp spot on them and sniggered.

“Won’t anyone wonder what it is?” I asked him

“Naah. I just throw ‘em in with the rest and she never notices. Least, I don’t think so!”

I let him grab his shower. Thinking now what I was to tell Gareth, I put my pants and shorts back on and went to the living room.

Once he was dressed in his school clothes, he told me that he would take a walk and meet Gareth from the pool and they could walk back to his together. Once he’d left, I started worrying again what to tell Gareth when he came in. I was peeved with Jake for putting me in this situation, annoyed with Gareth for not being here, and even more pissed off with myself for letting it get as far as it did. I mentally steeled myself for an unpleasant confrontation.

Twenty minutes later, he walked in the door and threw his bag on the floor as usual. I looked at him, trying to work out what sort of mood he was in. No clue at all; just as normal as a matter of fact. But there was something about his eyes ……

He stripped off and sat down on my lap.

“I don’t suppose you want any more sex tonight, do you?” he grinned impishly, staring me in the face and hooking his hands together behind my neck.

“Wha…….?” I started to say.

“Don’t panic! He told me all about it.”

I looked at him, mouth agape.

He laughed, and kissed me lightly. “You were set up! You don’t think I’d let anyone mess about with you without my knowing, do you?” he tittered.

I was speechless, and so was Gareth, with laughter. “Your face!” he stammered out at last.

He told me that he and Jake had come to an agreement, sort of. He said that the three-in-a-bed romp the other night had been fun, but not satisfying somehow, either for Jake or Gareth. Somehow or other, the conversation had ended up with the two boys agreeing that Jake could ‘seduce’ me tonight.

“But why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, “I would have done it.”

“No you wouldn’t. I know you, you’d’ve said no ‘cause you love me too much. And in any case, it was much more fun this way!”

He was right of course, I would’ve almost certainly said no, for Gareth’s sake as well as mine.

“But you owe me for fixing things with Jake,” he added with an evil leer.“Friday night he’s all mine, and you can sleep all alone, by yourself.” Then he added, “And if you’re lucky I might, just might, come and see you before breakfast!”

I could have choked him quite cheerfully at that point, but satisfied myself with grabbing his balls and giving him a painful squeeze, and a kiss.

Our lived settled into a steady routine over the next months; Gareth was doing well at school and I was settled into my job. It turned out that Gareth was a good artist and quite sporty as well, enjoying both Rugby and swimming. These began to take more and more of his time up at week-ends which was good for him, both in terms of his social life and exercise. Jake still came round every day, thoroughly enjoying the freedom he felt in our flat.

Our sex life also settled down. We slept together more often than not, but not always having sex. We had a lovely, caring relationship which suited us both perfectly, never as happy as when curled up together, either in bed or in our chair. Jake stayed over every Friday night with Gareth, and some week-ends as well when he could get away from home. I think he and Gareth were happy with the way they were, I know they always slept together and eventually, by tacit agreement, we even stopped the pretence of making up the spare bed. Jake used to come over to see me once a week or so when Gareth was out, usually with Gareth’s knowledge, and we had some good times. He got to like kissing and cuddling but we never progressed beyond that – I wouldn’t allow that to happen, and he didn’t seem interested anyway.

They both dated girls together to begin with, usually in a four-some, but neither seemed especially interested in them at first. By the time they were 16 though, Jake was into girls fairly seriously and was out most nights with one or another, but he still reserved his Fridays for him and Gareth. Gareth never got himself a steady girlfriend, only picking one up when he needed a companion for a disco or a party, not that they weren’t interested him: he’d grown into a very good-looking young man and has a pleasant, easy-going personality which enabled him to get along with everybody.

We were talking in bed one night when I asked him about girlfriends and so on. He cuddled up to me, and, very seriously, said that he was more than happy with us as we were, and wasn’t at all interested in females sexually. I felt guilty about this as I blamed myself for his preferring to have gay sex with me or Jake, rather than normal sex with a girlfriend. He told me that it wasn’t my fault or my influence, it was his choice.

“I’ve given it a lot of thought,” he informed me, “You and me, we’re the same. I like doing it with you and you like doing it with me, and we’re both OK with it.” It was a shattering surprise when he added, “I’ve done it with a couple of girls, and it wasn’t nearly as good as when we do it.” He made me laugh out loud when he added, “I knew it was no good because I never even got anywhere near weirding out on them. I even had to think about you to make myself cum!”

When his sixteenth birthday came round, we had two parties for him. One in the flat, with all his friends and one with just him and me. The one with his friends lasted nearly all night, ending up with him and Jake, drunk, naked, and giggling hysterically in my bed after everyone else had gone home, trying without success to get their dicks hard.

He and I had dinner out together for our celebration; I’d bought him his first proper suit and he looked really smart in it. We went to the best restaurant in town, and stayed in a hotel for the night, enjoying being waited on hand and foot. It was perfect.

Not wanting to create a fuss, I didn’t argue when the hotel receptionist naturally allocated us a twin-bedded room. Gareth and I were not quite ready to be ‘outed’ in that way just yet and so accepted it without question. It wouldn’t make any difference anyway. We took a shower together, kissing and cuddling each other like we used to do when we first started out as a couple, washing one another assiduously and making sure ‘those special parts’ were well and truly clean. Looking at the two beds, we giggled like children, messed up the clothes on one bed for appearance sake, and jumped in the other, wrapped in each other’s arms, our iron-hard boners already leaking.

I kissed him tenderly and deeply, running his beautiful hair through my fingers for the millionth time. He returned the kiss and whispered, “I love you, more than anything else in the world. Promise we’re gonna be alright, for ever?”

I felt my eyes start to water, and before I started crying, said, “I love you too, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. And we’re going to be together until the end of time.”

I leaned over him and picked up a bag with two special presents in it for him. First was a pair of rings. Identical gold and silver heart-shaped ones, one with a simple “G” in it and one with a plain “P”. We fitted them on our fingers and blessed them with a kiss. The second was a beautiful antique silver photo frame with my favourite picture in it, the one of him in his swimming trunks.

We cupped each others pricks in our hands and held them gently, rubbing fingers up and down sensuously. He lay his head on my chest and sighed.

“There’s something else,” I said seriously. “You’ve got to go back to Milton Keynes.”

I felt his dick soften immediately and his body tense up. He sat up and looked at me, his face showing intense shock and utter disbelief.

“Whaaa……….?” he started, “Why?…………….,” the tears starting to fall.

I had one other piece of news, good news, for him which I’d been saving for a couple of weeks, and had intended to have a bit of fun with him when I told him, but when I saw the look on his face, I knew I’d made a disastrous mistake. I’d misjudged his reaction completely and was seriously out of order.

“Don’t panic, don’t worry,” I said desperately, “It’s OK, honestly. Listen to me.”

He stared at me, letting the tears fall freely.

“I’ve got a new job and it’ll mean moving away from Dover. Right the way down to Exeter. It’ll mean you and I moving house and getting a new one. All I was going to say was that if you like, you can go and see your mum and dad and tell them if you want.”

“Bastard! You fucking ………” he pummelled me with his fists, hard, on the chest, crying bitterly now.

I hurt badly, the physical pain causing me to grimace, but that was nothing compared to the hurt I had inside. He was right, I was a bastard, I’d frightened him badly.

I hugged him tightly and apologised profusely, saying that I didn’t mean to scare him.

He looked at me as if I was dirt, wiping up the tears with the back of his hand, saying nothing.

Wrapping the blanket around us, I held him until he calmed down.

“We’re opening a new office,” I started to explain, “And I’ve been asked to manage it. I said I’d go, but I’d have to ask you first. If you don’t want to go, then we won’t. It’s up to you.”

He snuffled a bit and gazed at me, calmer now.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he said very quietly. “That was a bastard thing to do. I hated you just then.”

I said sorry once more, promised never to do it again, and kissed him on the cheek.

“So,” I said, “What about Exeter anyway? You’re leaving school this summer, and I thought you might like to go to college in Exeter to do Art or something.”

“Yeah. That’d be OK.” he said, still a bit pissed off with me. “But I am not going back to Milton Keynes – no way! Not even for a day.”

I said that there was no need for him to go if he didn’t want, I just thought he might like to go home for a week-end or something.

“No,” he said firmly, “If I do anything before we go, and I’d like for us to go, then do you know what I’d like best?”

“What?”

“Go camping for a week-end, like we did before.”

I ruffled his hair, overjoyed that he was a bit more cheerful now. “That’s a brilliant idea. We can go to Devon and hunt for a flat at the same time.”

He grinned, grasped my balls and squeezed them. Gently. Our dicks grew hard again and we cuddled up.

“Wonder if these rooms are soundproof?” he mused, gazing into my eyes as he shifted to sit on my groin.

“I hope so!” I smiled, “Let’s find out shall we?”

“Great!” he almost yelled, “Do you want my present now?”

“Only if it’s what I think it is,” I giggled. For an answer he inserted my swollen dick into his waiting hole.

We made love for ages that night, slowly and tenderly, re-living and remembering all the best times we’d had together, and cementing our relationship for the future. Dover was in many ways the beginning, experimental, learning, part of our relationship. Now we were moving on to new pastures, absolutely certain that we were made for each other and the future was ours, ours alone and ours united.

By the way, the hotel room wasn’t soundproof, not against Gareth’s special orgasms anyway. When we checked out the following morning, we received an icy stare from the Duty Manager and a quietly delivered request that we never pay them a return visit. We walked out the door, arms on each other’s shoulders, and giggling. We didn’t give a toss.

The last connection Gareth and I made with Milton Keynes was when I returned the monthly cheque his father sent, with a note saying that from now on Gareth and I would take care of ourselves.

 

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