Alexander

Tom Brown's Schoolboy

Chapter One

Billy was sat on the low wall, swinging his legs and watching the pub door. Occasionally he would dip his grubby fingers into the paper bag in his lap, fish out a sweet and chew on it. He was pissed off and bored, as usual on a Saturday afternoon. This was the day his father 'had access' to him; his mum and dad were living apart, the drink having finally done its work. 'Access' meant meeting his dad outside the pub, being given a bottle of cheap fizzy drink, an even cheaper bag of sweets and told to wait outside. If he remembered, his dad would send out another drink sometime in the afternoon, but as often as not forgot and would only remember him when he staggered out some hours later, drunk, argumentative and broke. Usually Billy got his timing right and had long since gone when his father fell out of the door. He couldn't go home, or at least wouldn't. His mother would either be 'entertaining' a man friend, or in another pub doing the same thing as his father.

Either way, going home was out of the question.

Billy was twelve years old and had lived like this for almost as long as he could remember and knew no different. He was happy enough in his own way, content to wander the streets during most daylight hours when he wasn't at school and explore the roads and derelict houses where he lived.

Staring down at his dirty, torn jeans and equally grubby T-shirt, he shivered as a blast of cold wind blew down the road. Jumping off the wall, he peered through the pub window, saw his dad with a full glass of beer and wandered off, feeling for another sweet as he did so. Half a mile down the road was his haven: an old Victorian house, long since deserted, with a big overgrown garden which hid it almost completely from sight. Doors and windows had been smashed and broken even before he discovered it, but nevertheless it offered a place out of the wind and rain where he could keep out of people's way.

He used to pretend it was his house and he lived there with his big family and liveried servants, just like he'd read in the books at school. The street-level floor showed all the usual signs of use by the local kids: torn papers, empty bottles, discarded cigarette packs and other detritus littering it. The next floor was his favourite though because that was where 'his' room was. This used to be a big store cupboard at some time, it was the only room with a door, and it would almost shut. In it he'd secreted away some of his prize possessions: a few comics, a broken radio, a box of his less-battered toys, a tattered blanket he'd rescued from a skip, and a torch. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, he looked around. Good, he thought, No one's been here. Reaching up, he pulled the door as closed as it would go and switched on the torch. Feeling safe and secure from the world about him he smiled to himself and relaxed. Searching about under the blanket, he pulled out a magazine. He'd found it downstairs a couple of weeks ago, and was a complete revelation to him. It was full of pictures of naked and half-naked men and women. The girls were good to look at with their huge naked breasts, but it was the men that fascinated him the most. Turning to the first page with a naked man on it, he lay the magazine carefully on the floor, got himself ready by pushing his jeans and pants down to his knees and shone the torch on the man's peter.

Waiting expectantly, he stared at the enormous monster the man was holding, as his own tiddler began to rise up for him. He looked from one to the other, wondering vaguely if his would ever get as big as that. The man, Jeff, according to the words next to the picture, had all his fat fingers round his dick and still had at least three inches [7 cm] sticking out. Tentatively Billy put his fingers round his: four fingers and it was completely hidden.

"Fuck it," he muttered to himself, "It ain't getting no fuckin' bigger."

He left his hand where it was as he turned the pages over with the other, searching for the next monster. He knew: two more pages, and there he was, standing up, legs spread apart and his peter perfectly upright, reaching towards his belly button. Tall, blond and muscley, he was the best looking man in the book. Billy stared at him, envying his gigantic peter and getting that nice, tickly feeling in his belly, just like butterflies. He flicked through the magazine, knowing from experience exactly which pages to turn to, but returning to Blondie every so often to refresh his memory.

The sound of a bus making its way down the road brought him back from wherever his mind had drifted. It was time to make a move home. Reluctantly, he carefully replaced the book and pulled his trousers up, making sure that he covered his bits with a hand as he fastened the zip. He'd caught himself in it once, and didn't want to do it a second time! Turning into the road where he lived, he glanced up at his block of flats: thirty floors of grey concrete and peeling paintwork. If he'd ever known anything different, he'd've known just how run-down and decrepit it was – but he didn't, and it was home.

His mother was there. Not drunk exactly, but neither was she sober. There was a definite smell of a man in the air; she'd been entertaining. He could never identify what caused the odour, but he could always tell when she'd had a man round. The only thing he was certain of was that she would have some money, or she'd be pissed, but not both. Without moving from the sofa where she lay, she waved an arm and mumbled that his dinner was in the kitchen. Without haste he wandered into the squalor to find the cold remains of yesterday's stew sitting on the window sill. Shrugging his shoulders, he emptied it into the rubbish bin and stuffed his last two remaining sweets in his mouth.

There were about two hours to kill until the best time of day. Once she thought he was in his room, she never disturbed him until she shouted for him at breakfast time and didn't really know whether he was there or not. So, sometime after nine in the evening he could usually manage to sneak out of the house without his mother knowing. Most often she was glued in front of the tv, at other times she was snoring.

Laying on his bed, he loosened his trousers and thought about his magazine. It occurred to him that he'd been thinking about the naked men a lot recently, and every time he did, his peter got hard. He liked it when that happened: it was one of the few things he got any real pleasure out of these days, and there was no one to tell him off for being happy and enjoying himself as they so often seemed to. He let his hands wander down and hold his flaccid peter until it got hard. Then he felt all round his naked balls and up to his bum, and back again, stroking up to his belly button, then round again.

He kept on feeling himself as pictures of the different men crossed through his mind, eyes closed and a welcoming smile on his face. Another idle thought struck him: nearly all the men had hair round their peters. He sat up and examined himself closely: not a one, not even a sign of one.

Sighing, he lay back down, again wondering when he would grow up.

When he awoke from his doze, Billy was surprised to find his hands cupping his still hard peter.

And there was something else, he'd wet himself, just a tiny bit though. He looked at the liquid on the end of his thing. It didn't look like piss somehow, for one thing it wasn't the right colour, and for another it seemed sticky sort of. Curiously he picked a bit up on the end of his finger and brought it to his nose. It definitely wasn't piss; it smelt different, kinda nice even. Very carefully he tasted it. It was OK. He gathered the remaining few drops up and sucked his finger dry. It was good.

Shrugging his shoulders, he pulled his ragged jeans up, put the warmer of his two coats on and quietly opened his bedroom door. She was sleeping. Very carefully he crept behind her and with an expertise born of practice, slipped out like a wraith. Getting away from the estate without being beaten up, or at the very least chased by one of the gangs wasn't easy. Slipping from shadow to shadow, his eyes darting everywhere on the look-out for any potential trouble, he made it to the main road. Even then he knew he wasn't completely safe: being a slightly-built and young-looking 12-year old boy he was always at risk from other, bigger and tougher boys. He made his way towards the town centre, the bright lights and people. Lots of non-threatening, happy people mostly. He would be relatively safe for a couple of hours, window-shopping and looking at the tv programmes in the shop windows. He was happy. He was even given the remains of an unwanted burger by a smiling girl who felt sorry for him; that was a bonus!

Eleven o'clock found him in a quieter part of town, well away from the centre: this was his territory and he knew it well. Roaming aimlessly round the darkened streets, enjoying the night air and solitude, he let his mind wander. For some reason or other, he became aware that his peter had got hard, and he hadn't even been thinking of anything! Putting his hand into his pocket and feeling it through the hole, he was sure he could feel it was wet again. He remembered there was a toilet block not too far away and he trotted towards it, keen to have a look at himself and check it out.

He locked the green wooden door behind himself and immediately dropped his clothes to the floor, in a hurry to see what was happening.

It was there again! Smiling to himself with an odd sort of satisfaction, he collected the crystal-clear fluid together and stuck it in his mouth. It was just the same! His peter gave a little twitch upwards, unnoticed by Billy except that he put his hand on it and held it like always.

Idly he squeezed and released it, enjoying the secret delight it gave him. This was nice, he decided and did it some more, looking at the walls as he felt the tickling butterflies in his tummy.

There were drawings: lots of drawings, all over the walls, and writing as well. He'd never really noticed them before, not that he'd used these places much anyway – a convenient tree or wall had always done him in the past. But now 3;?

Gradually his eyes opened wider and wider as it dawned on him what the pictures were of. peters, balls and bums, in odd positions and all different shapes and sizes. He put off reading the words until he'd examined every picture in detail. His peter got harder and he started to stroke it reflectively as he peered at the drawings. There were peters in fists, peters standing up, peters in mouths, there were even peters stuck up bums; there was every possible combination he could think of – and more! It was like a wonderland to his innocent, fertile imagination. A wonderland of revelation and discovery. He began to take in the words fitted around the pictures, recognising most of them, but not what they were saying. He understood 'fuck' and 'dick' and 'arse' and a good many others; he'd heard them at school often enough and had seen them scrawled in isolation on walls, but never together in such profusion. His hand stroked his dick harder.

He tried to imagine what it would be like having a peter, sorry, dick, in your mouth or up your bum. His mouth would be OK, after all that clear stuff tasted not too bad; but inside your bum must hurt, and why do it anyway? His hand continued to move up and down and he became aware of it for the first time. Curiously he stared at it, as if it had a will of its own, and let it carry on, even putting his other hand under his tiny balls to take the weight of them off his bouncing dick. The butterflies in his tummy began to flutter harder and he watched as his balls suddenly seemed to shrink back into his tummy. Then the most fantastic thing happened. His hand went faster and faster and his dick seemed to get hotter and bigger and fill his whole brain. Suddenly his entire body was filled with an amazing light and heat, the tiny room melted away into a mist and he shook all over, not stopping for ages and ages. To begin with he thought he'd hurt himself somehow, but as the fantastic feeling slowly died away, he looked at his dick and balls and gratefully saw they were still in one piece. But there was something odd though – there was some white stuff dripping out of his cock. There were drops of it on his legs and shirt as well. How did that get there? What was it?

Realisation hit him like a thunderclap. All the sex ed. lessons at school, all the 'dirty' talk in the playground, and even the pictures in his magazine began to make some sort of sense to him. This was sex. Proper sex. And he could do it! He looked around the toilet, suddenly acutely aware of where he was. He was sure that somebody was listening, somebody had watched him, somebody who just knew what he'd done. He breathed a sigh of relief as he found he was still alone. But it was fantastic! Amazing! Awesome! He must tell somebody! But who? Nobody. He knew that, but he just wished there was someone, just one person, with whom he could share this amazing discovery. Then he thought, there was just one person, maybe.

Groggily, he struggled to his feet and pulled his pants and trousers up, taking extra care not to trap his super-sensitive and now shiningly sticky peter in his zipper and ran all the way home. For two reasons: first he wanted to get into his own bed and do it again, and secondly, he might, just might, run into the one person in the world he could share his fantastic secret with.

Kim was the nearest thing he had to a friend. He was a year younger than him and lived next door.

His name wasn't really Kim; because his family was black and African or something, he had a long, funny name which nobody could say properly, so he was called Kim. Even his mum and dad called him Kim unless he was in trouble, which wasn't very often.

Naturally Kim wasn't around, it was much too late for him to be out. Still, thought Billy, That ain't important now, I'll tell him later. I just wanna get home! He almost blew it in his excitement. He thrust the flat door open with unaccustomed force, but automatically stopped it before it bounced against the door frame. There was no sign of his mother, he assumed she was in bed. Treading very cautiously he crept into his room, closed the door and for safety's sake, even wedged the chair under the handle. She'd never come into his room at night before, but knowing his luck tonight would be the first, and he didn't want to be disturbed when he was busy experimenting!

As fast as he could, he stripped off and threw his clothes into the corner to join the mounting pile, some clean, some dirty. He lay on the unmade bed, spread his legs and surveyed his body from top to toe. His skin was pink and flawless apart from the odd marks and scratches on his legs where he'd scrambled through bushes when playing. Mentally he compared his boy-body with those of the men in his book. He gave that up instantly and tried to remember what the other boys in his class looked like when they were stripped for swimming or PE. It wasn't easy, he'd never taken much notice of them before, always getting changed by himself in a corner and keeping his back to them.

The few he had looked at nervously in the showers were no different to him on the whole, although Billy was a bit smaller and thinner than most of them. His peter was a little bigger than average, and like everyone else except David and Mark, had no hair at all, and they only had three or four tiny ones. He knew that because they'd showed them to everyone last week. His dick started to harden.

Experimentally he ran his thin fingers over his body, closing his eyes to concentrate on the feeling.

The sensation from the top of his legs and round his dick and balls was nice and tingly, making his tummy feel funny. His legs and arms felt no different, but when he rubbed his chest, that was almost as good as when he held his dick: he shivered at his touch, opening his eyes for a second to confirm his fingers were where he thought they were. His little brown nipples seemed to be super-touchy, they felt the best, and re-closing his eyes, played with them again to check it out. It was brilliant!

Keeping his left hand rubbing them, he switched his right one back to his peter which was now real hard and sticking straight up. There was that clear stuff again, all together in a sort of tiny lake made by the extra bit of skin at the end of his peter. He was in heaven! Gripping his dick a bit harder, he felt his heart-beats making it throb a tiny bit and he began to rub up and down in time with them.

That strange, wonderful feeling began to come again, the butterflies in his tummy started up and he felt warm and sort of itchy all over. He opened his legs a little wider and grasped his balls with his left hand, feeling the egg-shaped things inside. His mouth fell open and he gasped at the sudden and unexpected excitement it gave him. He started to rub his dick faster. It throbbed and grew hotter and even bigger. His skin seemed to be alive and glowing as he worked his fingers up and down his shaft, making him moan and groan uncontrollably. He watched as more and more of the sticky stuff came out of his dick: he wanted to stop and taste it, but somehow he couldn't seem to do it.

Quicker and quicker his fingers flew up and down, completely out of his control, his dick now as hard as iron. Then, without warning he let out a strangled scream and he felt his dick spasm, his back arch and his legs stick straight out, toes curled up painfully. He stopped breathing as big globs of white stuff shot out in spurts; he counted at least five before they slowed down and stopped, the last one just dribbling out and running on to his thumb. He took a deep breath and tried to get his brain to work. That was the best feeling he'd ever, ever had; he felt exhilarated, happy, wonderful and all sorts of other good feelings at the same time. The stuff that came out this time was different – it was white and sort of cloudy and thicker, more like cream. He tasted it. That was different as well, like a swimming pool sort of taste but it was good. He gathered the rest up and put it on his tongue. Yeah, he thought, Different but definitely OK. Twice more he did it that night, not making quite so much stuff, but gratefully confirming that the feelings were still there and just as good as the first time. He only stopped when he tried it a third time, looked at his dick and saw it was red raw and very tender, so tender he couldn't touch it.

Chapter Two

The following morning, after the third shout from his Mother, he stumbled out of bed. For a moment he wondered why he still felt so tired and yet so pleased with himself, then he remembered and smiled to himself. Still grinning, he searched for a reasonably clean shirt and his school trousers. A quick wash, and he was on the way to school with a slice of toast in his hand. He hoped to meet Kim on the way but he was one of those kids who always got to school early, and Billy was one of those who arrived just in the nick of time, he promised himself that he'd find him later. The morning lessons dragged on and on: Billy knew he wasn't very bright at the best of times although he usually managed to keep himself out of trouble. No, that isn't true, he thought. He realised he was cleverer, more intelligent than most people around him, but he'd never been bothered or stimulated enough to use his brains, always being content to do the bare minimum to avoid any bother from the teachers and not stand out from the crowd. That, together with his less than supportive home meant he was one of that vast herd of pupils in the middle: ignored by everyone, pupils and teachers alike.

Lunch-time came around, and Billy searched Kim out. He was sat by himself on the library steps flicking through a comic when Billy approached him.

"Hiya, Kim!" Billy said cheerfully, parking himself next to his friend.

"Hiya yourself!" Kim replied, grateful for someone to talk to. He liked Billy, despite his poor home and drunken mother: in some ways he felt sorry for him, but was completely unable to do anything about it and so pushed it to the back of his mind. Even his parents had half-warned in a round-about way not to become too friendly with him. What he did like was his free and easy approach to life, doing more or less what he wanted, when he wanted. That, in Kim's eyes, was a reasonable trade-off for having a bad home.

"Listen, I got summat to tell ya," Billy whispered urgently. "Come over 'ere."

He grabbed Kim's arm and dragged him round the corner, out of everyone's view. Kim followed curiously.

"You know your thing, you know, your peter?" Billy gushed out excitedly, still holding his friend's arm with one hand, and pointing to his crotch with the other. Kim nodded, understanding now why he'd been brought round here out of the way – it was going to be one of 'those' conversations. His family were very old-fashioned in that sex was never mentioned in any way, shape or form. It was treated as something furtive and somehow dirty. The result was that age the age of eleven, Kim had an abiding interest in all things sexual, although as yet was completely unaware of its physical side.

But that was about to change.

"Well, you know it gets hard sometimes, if you think dirty things."

Kim nodded again, not fully understanding, but going along with Billy anyway.

"Well, last night," here he dropped his voice to a whisper, "I found out that stuff comes out of it."

"Two sorts of stuff," he added after a moments thought.

Billy felt his dick harden in his trousers, adjusted its position unconsciously and carried on. Kim's eyes saw the movement and became fascinated as to where the conversation was leading. He also felt a funny feeling at the top of his legs.

"If you rub it, it feels fuckin' awesome, and if you keep doin' it, first some white watery stuff comes out, and then if you keep on rubbin', some thick juicy stuff comes out as well. And it makes you feel all sort of, 3;" Here he became stuck for words, and added lamely, "well, fuckin' amazin'!"

Kim too was stuck for words. He heard what Billy had said, but didn't have a clue what he was talking about. Sure, his thingy got stiff sometimes, but if he ignored it, it went away. He knew that if he touched it when it was hard, it felt good. But he also knew that it was to do with sex, and therefore dirty and very much to be avoided.

To his acute embarrassment, Kim felt a swelling in his crotch and was unable to do anything about it: it was bad enough when he was alone and it happened, but with Billy here, it was ten times worse. He took a quick look down and saw the terrifying tent in his trousers and blushed deeply.

He heard Billy giggle and say, "Your's gone stiff as well? Mine has, look!" He made a diamond shape with his fingers and thumbs and pushed it over his peter making it even more obvious. Kim stared, now seriously disturbed. This just wasn't right and he stammered out an apology to Billy and ran off to hide somewhere out of the way. Billy, knowing how funny Kim was about sexy things, felt sorry that he was going to miss out on the best bit, what happens when you play with it, but that was Kim's problem. Billy ran to the toilets, dropped his pants and stared, almost lovingly, at the wet patch on his pants.

Meanwhile, Kim was in another toilet, sat down on the seat, breathing heavily. He hated feeling like this whenever anyone mentioned sex, especially if they talked about penises or testicles. He was eleven years old, had heard all the jokes and banter in the playground, and envied the boys who were able to laugh at them. Now, even Billy was talking dirty to him, and he was a friend. What was wrong with him? He thought about himself. He was big for his age, he knew that. He was taller and heavier than anyone in his year, and a good many in the year above as well. He was fit and healthy, kept himself clean and tidy, and had a smooth, unblemished black skin. The only thing different about him he couldn't think about, even to himself. His 'thing' wasn't like any of the others he'd seen by accident: he'd been circumcised. It was about the same as Billy's he remembered, apart from a few little hairs which had grown down there recently, but no one except him knew about those. So why then, did he feel so different? He made a momentous decision. Gritting his teeth and setting his mind to it, he unfastened his trousers. With a deep breath he pushed them down and seated himself on the toilet again, looking down at his groin. The thing between his legs was a bit larger than it usually was, but he knew why, and tried to ignore it. The hairs were still there. No more and no fewer than there were the other day. But there was something different. The end of his penis was shiny and wet.

Could that be the stuff Billy was talking about? He tore off a piece of toilet paper and wiped it off.

As soon as the paper touched the purple head, he felt an electric shock shoot through his whole body and he shivered with the surprise. It wasn't a bad feeling, just unexpected.

Experimentally, he did it again. The feeling hit him again, and his penis got a bit harder. Billy was right he realised. The feeling was a good one. He started to wipe the stuff off and the sensation in his penis was mind-bending: he'd never felt anything like it in his life. Slowly he rubbed the paper over and over the head, the liquid had long since been cleaned off, but that didn't matter anymore. He tentatively held his penis upright with one hand, dropped the paper in the toilet and rubbed the palm of his hand over the little hole at the end. It was leaking, and he trembled with the incredible warmth his penis seemed to have gained. He looked at his hand and much to his relief realised it wasn't urine. He smelt it carefully and decided that it seemed harmless. His penis was still hard and willed it go down, but it wouldn't, if anything it got harder. He was scaring himself now and tried to get dressed. But there was the problem of his hard penis. He positioned it as straight as he could and pulled his underpants over it. As he rubbed his hand along it, the feeling came back again. He couldn't stop himself: he did it three or four times, each time the feeling getting stronger and stronger.

Then his legs began to shake and his knees knock together. In something approaching a panic, he pulled his trousers over his undies, fastened the zip and made a hasty escape to the playground, his mind a mess of conflicting thoughts. Out in the open air, he was absolutely certain that everyone was staring at him, thinking what a dirty, perverted little boy he was.

Kim's afternoon in class was much like Billy's had been in the morning: he couldn't keep his mind on anything for more than five minutes before it wandered off to Billy's information and his own discovery. The biggest problem he had was why, if the feelings were so intense and so good, had no one ever told him before? Surely, something so important and exciting and good-feeling should be known by everybody? Then the truth hit him: that was precisely why he hadn't been told, that was why his parents threw a fit every time his hands went anywhere below the belt. They knew just how nice the sensations were and didn't want him to know about them. He made his mind up to talk to Billy and learn some more. But it had to be secret though, a big secret.

Chapter Three

Billy was still excited, not only about the secret he'd shared with Kim, but also about the toilets down town: he couldn't seem to get them out of his mind. Knowing that there was no way he could settle down to any schoolwork with his mind full of other, much more important things, he decided to skip school for the afternoon. It wouldn't be the first time and wasn't difficult as he'd learned. All you had to do was get registered and sneak out before the lessons started. The teachers rarely checked names, and his classmates, bound by the schoolboy code, would never admit to knowing anything even if they did.

The bogs he'd been to last night were too far away to go to just now, and he racked his brain trying to think if there were any others he might try. There were some at the local shopping precinct, but they would be too busy and probably kept too clean anyway. No, what he wanted were some not too far away, not used too much and not cleaned very often. He scanned the map of the local area in his mind. Got it! The football field. There was a toilet block there. Nobody much would be around now because they'd all be in school or at work. He knew they weren't cleaned too often because on the one or two occasions he'd been in them, they smelt terrible and the walls were covered in graffiti. Just what he wanted.

He ducked out through the hole in the fence behind the gymnasium and ran as fast as he could until the school was out of sight. Dropping to a steady jog, he was at the field in ten minutes. Stopping at the entrance to the field, he looked around: there wasn't a soul in sight apart from a dog walker over on the far side. He stared at the toilets for a couple of minutes waiting for anyone who might be in them to leave. He was feeling a now familiar sensation in his trousers and knew without checking that his dick was getting hard with anticipation. Taking a deep breath, he raced the fifty yards to his target and bounced in through the door, sliding on the wet floor to a stop against the brick wall.

Taking a careful look round, he saw the four white porcelain urinals, chipped and stained, on one wall and opposite them four unoccupied cubicles with their heavy wooden doors ajar. They had been painted once, but that had long since peeled off to leave a mosaic of dark green paint and yellowish-grey wood with the inevitable tags scratched into it. He went into one of the middle bogs and locked the door behind him. It was a veritable treasure trove of information. The walls were covered almost from floor to ceiling with hundreds of messages, pictures and crude drawings. His eyes lit up as he scanned them excitedly. He also noticed holes in the side walls and in the door: Big ones in the walls and much smaller ones in the door. He could guess what they were for, and felt a sensual thrill coursing through his body as he thought about it. His dick gave a twitch of excitement, reminding him of its presence, and he pushed his trousers and pants down to his ankles, allowing it to escape to the freedom it so badly needed.

There was something incredibly exciting about being locked in the toilet cubicle with his pants around his ankles and holding on to his warm, stiff peter. The thrill was made even greater by the fact that he was playing hooky from school as well. He scanned the walls, taking in the multitude of crude, obscene and astonishing pictures, almost salivating as he stored them in his memory. Then there was the writing as well. He didn't know that there were so many different words for his peter: dick, cock and prick were the commonest. Like at the other bogs, 'peter' wasn't written up there once. He decided that must be a baby word for it and resolved never to use it again, after all he was nearly a man now 'cause he could make that white stuff come. 'Spunk' or 'sperm' it must be called according to the information in front of him. Talking of which he remembered his now steel-hard dick in his hand, and began stroking it up and down slowly, waiting for 'the feeling' to start.

There were lots of pictures of people playing with their dicks just like he was now; there were also some with dicks in peoples mouths again as well as some with dicks up bums. He sat down on the bowl and thought about it. Having a prick in your mouth must be OK because some of the messages said things like 'suck me' and 'wanna suck?' There were even some messages which seemed to make dates for people to meet together and do it. That must be real cool to have someone suck your prick, or you suck theirs. He pulled a face at the ones with dicks up bums. That still didn't make any sense. Experimentally he tried to push his finger up his own bum, but first of all it closed up real tight, then, when it did relax a bit and he managed to get a bit of his finger in, it hurt like crazy and he quickly pulled it out. Fuck that! he thought to himself. He felt himself getting close to that good feeling, his tummy was tingling and he felt hot all over. With a big effort, he stopped rubbing himself because he wanted to finish looking at the wall before he made the spunk come out.

This must be what 'wanking' and 'jerking off' is he realised suddenly, staring at the words, and another piece of the jigsaw fell into place. He thought for an instant of writing all these new words down so's he could remember them, but apart from the fact that he didn't have any writing stuff with him, he decided that it was a stupid idea anyway 'cause someone might find it and read it.

He carried on reading and learned a few more things. It seemed people got together here a lot as the dates were all new ones, some even for today and tomorrow. A thought crossed his mind that he would like to hide here one night and see what happened, but then this place was too far from home to come to late at night, and in any case he didn't really fancy being here when it was dark, it would be too scary. But there was the other place though. He smiled and promised himself he would try it tonight. Once more he resumed wanking his dick and waited for the feeling. It must've helped looking at the pictures because he started to go all gooey and shaky nearly straightaway. He didn't stop this time though; instead he pushed his legs out as straight as he could, leaned back against the wall, held his balls in one hand and stroked as fast as he as was able. He kept wanking even when his dick throbbed and swelled up and his balls shrunk up into his groin. Under his fingers he felt the spunk coming inside his cock and watched as it shot up into the air, shooting up in six or seven bursts so hard it even hurt a bit. The feelings were getting better and better every time he did it, he thought as he scooped some up and put it in his mouth. This time was the best so far and he took a deep breath as he grinned happily. If only, he thought to himself.

If only what? he contemplated. Why did I think that? If only what? Then it dawned on him. Not only did he wanted to share his magical feelings with someone else, he wanted to do it with them. Now that must be really brilliant, much better than doing it to yourself.

He thought of Kim.

Turning this idea over in his mind, he pulled his trousers up without bothering to fasten them, and peering through the hole in the door to make sure that there was no one around, hobbled to the end cubicle to check that one out.

It was much the same as the other he found out rather to his disappointment, but then the big hole through the wall caught his eye. The size was about right, the height was right (for a grown man anyway) and there were some stains running down the wall which definitely weren't piss. He adjusted his thinking: these holes weren't just for looking through like the ones in the doors, they were to stick your cock through so's the man next door could, well, wank it or suck it, he worked out. He looked at the hole, looked at his dick and looked back at the hole. No way. His prick, even if it was really hard wouldn't reach all the way through. Just about, maybe, but there wouldn't be enough sticking out the other end for anyone to play with. Standing as close to the wall as he could, he had to stand on his toes to get his boner in the right place as he slid it into the cold brickwork.

He tried to guess how much of it was sticking out the other side and worked out that he was right, his cock was nowhere near big enough and in any case his toes were starting to hurt already.

Shit! he thought to himself, When WILL I be big enough? An image of Blondie from his magazine crossed his mind: now HE was big enough, and then some! The Magazine! His Room! The house!

Kim!

He almost jumped for joy as a plan crystallised in his mind. It would work, no problem, if only he could persuade Kim to go with him.

Billy stood outside the school gates as the seething mass of boys and girls escaped from their enforced captivity, watching anxiously for Kim, hopping from foot to foot in anticipation. Kim meanwhile had been keeping an eye open for Billy most of the afternoon during lesson changes and at break. There wasn't a sign of him anywhere, and when he'd asked one of his classmates where he was, had been told that he'd skipped school for the afternoon. Kim wasn't happy. He knew himself well enough to know that unless he got together with Billy today, he wouldn't ever do it, and he badly needed to be told things; exciting, scary things. Because he'd been trying to find Billy, Kim was one of the last kids out of the school, fed up and miserable. Then they saw each other and waved frantically. When they met up, they grinned at each other and started to speak excitedly at the same time.

"Listen, wanna go somewhere? 3; 3;" Billy started.

"Can we go somewhere 3;?" Kim said.

Kim let Billy speak. "Wanna come and, err, talk? Somewhere secret?" he said, looking straight at Kim.

Kim was both pleased and surprised at the same time. He wanted to meet with Billy, and go somewhere, but how did he know? And what did he want to talk about? It could only be about one thing, especially as he said 'somewhere secret'.

"Yes," he said, trying to keep his excitement under control. "Where?"

"I know a place, but you gotta promise not to tell anyone about it 'cause it's secret."

"I promise," Kim said, "When?"

"Can you get out now?" Billy asked hopefully, and looked at Kim in his nice, clean school uniform.

Any extra dirt on his own clothes wouldn't show, but Kim needed to change. "Let's go home first, I've got to change and get some diff'rent things on," Kim said as if reading Billy's mind.

They hurried home together, taking about everything else except what was uppermost in their minds. Both had erections, Billy happily feeling his through the hole in his pocket, and Kim hoping his would go down before he reached home.

They met up fifteen minutes later at the end of the road. Kim had changed into his old jeans and sweatshirt: even his 'old' clothes were better than Billy's, but he didn't notice, and wouldn't have cared even if he did.

On the way to 'Billy's House', he explained all about where they were going and about his special room and that once they were inside, no one in the world would find them. Kim was excited, more excited than he'd been for ages. This was an adventure and a half for him; he was going to a secret hide-away with a boy who was going to tell him all sorts of sex stuff he wasn't supposed to know, and might even show him things if he was lucky. He got hard just thinking about it and hardly heard Billy gabbling away to him in his excitement. For the first time ever he didn't want it to go down, not until Billy told him stuff anyway.

Kim was excitingly nervous as they scrambled through the undergrowth, up the rickety stairs of the old house and into Billy's Room. Once the door was pulled to and they were sat on the floor facing each other, he still felt nervous, but a different sort. Now he was eager to learn things: dirty, exciting things. They looked at each other, neither knowing where to start.

"Wanna see some pictures? Good ones?" Billy said.

"Err, yes. OK then," Kim replied, disappointed that they weren't going to 'talk'.

Billy fished under the blanket and dug the book out, spreading it reverently on the floor between them. Slowly he turned the pages over, watching Kim's face. He was astounded. There were pictures, dozens of them, of men and women without clothes on. He'd never imagined that this sort of thing existed, let alone see and hold one. What's more, the men and women seemed to be enjoying themselves, they were smiling and posing for the camera, not caring that somebody was taking pictures of them without any clothes on. And what was even more amazing was that the men's penises were all hard. Big, very big, and very hard. He was speechless and couldn't take his eyes from them. Kim looked at Billy, his mouth wide open and picked up the book to examine it closely.

Page after page he stared at them in total disbelief. He felt his penis stiffen up and push his trousers out, but he didn't care, this was much more important.

Billy watched his friend, grinning broadly. He remembered how he felt when he first saw the pictures and knew just what Kim was thinking: the tent in his trousers demonstrating it more than adequately. His gaze shifted from Kim's face to the bulge in his jeans and stared at it, watching as it twitched every time he turned a page over. Billy slipped his hands inside his trousers and grasped his leaking dick gently.

"Wow!" said Kim breathlessly after skimming through the book for the third time. "Wow!"

"Good aren't they?" Billy giggled, still watching Kim's erection bouncing up and down.

Kim saw where Billy's hand was and felt embarrassed for a moment but then reasoned that under the circumstances it was OK. He stared at his own tent and wished he had the nerve to do what Billy was doing.

"Wanna see some of that sticky stuff?" Billy said, his eyes flashing at Kim in excitement and anticipation.

Kim nodded, his power of speech lost absolutely. Billy stuck his thumbs inside his trousers and pants, and wriggling about, managed to push them down to his knees. His dick stood up, proud and erect, glistening wetly. Billy lay back, resting on his elbows and staring at his own prick, gently throbbing with his heartbeat.

"Touch it if you want," he whispered. "I don't mind."

Kim was way beyond logical thought now, his eyes were fixed on Billy's penis. Billy's hard, wet, irresistible penis. Somewhere in the far distance he heard someone ask if he wanted to touch it.

There was no power on earth could stop him. Slowly he stretched his hand towards it, stopping just a few millimetres short, pausing to take a breath before he tentatively reached a solitary finger out and touched it on the shaft, feeling its heat and hardness. Billy took in a sharp breath and sighed deeply, closing his eyes. He'd never imagined, couldn't possibly imagine, how it felt having someone touch your prick. It was fantastic. Just one finger resting on it and he was in heaven.

"Hold it, properly," he moaned, "All your hand."

Kim closed his fingers round the shaft and concentrated on the sensation. He seemed to draw some mystical energy from Billy as he held on to his beautiful penis, relishing every fantastic second of it.

He didn't care what his parents, or anyone else for that matter, said or thought about what they were doing; it was unbelievably brilliant! And he was doing it! Actually holding someone else's thing, and enjoying it! He held his hand perfectly still, not daring to move even a millimetre in case Billy told him to take it away.

But Billy wasn't going to do that, not in a million years. He was ecstatic with delight and wished it could go on for ever.

Pulling his mind together with a struggle, he whispered, "Can I see yours?"

Kim nodded his head frantically, not trusting himself to speak yet, or wishing to let go his hand. Billy leaned up and reached for the snapper and zip on Kim's jeans. He managed the snapper, but couldn't move the zip any more than half an inch [1½ cm].

"You do it," he said impatiently, "I can't do it."

Kim let go of Billy's dick, scrabbled to push his zip down, forced his jeans and pants to his thighs and grabbed hold of Billy's cock again.

Billy stared in awe at Kim's prick standing out hugely from his balls. It was nicer than he thought it would be somehow, much the same size and shape as his except that it was a beautiful shade of brownish-black with a deep purple head and no skin at the end of it. He held it between his finger and thumb, moving it around slightly so he could have a really good look at it. There were even a few wiry, curly hairs at the bottom of the shaft which he felt – they were a lot softer than they looked. The more he stared, the more he liked. It felt hot and hard, yet soft and squishy at the same time. He squeezed it gently and heard Kim groan. He sensed his prick being squeezed at the same time and sighed.

The two boys looked at each other and grinned. They were feeling a bit embarrassed in some ways, but the intense pleasure radiating from their groins dispelled any awkwardness and they slowly began to move their hands up and down the bone-hard rods.

"Lay down on your side and face me," Billy said.

Kim did as he was asked and rested his forehead on Billy's as he resumed working his hand.

Wriggling about a little to get comfortable, they fixed their full attention on each other's groins as hands moved in unison, wanking slowly and gently, every millisecond being savoured and stored in their memory. Billy picked up the pace as he felt the tingly feeling rising in his belly. Faster and faster he went, Kim following as best he could. Before either boy knew what was happening, they bucked and trembled, shook and shivered as their joint orgasm hit them full force. Their hips thrust forward violently and their dicks touched, spurting cum onto each other with a speed and force which took them both by complete surprise. Jets of white juice sprayed them both, covering their balls and thighs in a sheen of glorious spunk. They fell onto each other, gasping for breath, eyes locked together in mutual wonderment.

"That was fuckin' amazin." Billy eventually managed to stammer out. "Better than when I do it."

Kim, unluckily, had nothing to compare it with. All he knew what that he felt terrific, wonderful, amazing, all at the same time. He hugged Billy tightly and pressed his softening dick into his groin.

After they'd calmed down a bit, they sat up and looked at each other without saying a word.

Neither knew what to say. They'd had a truly incredible experience together: far, far different to that which Kim had expected, and much better than Billy had imagined. Now feeling slightly flustered, they wordlessly got dressed and crept out of the building. Once out on the main road, they punched each other on the arm, giggled at one another and ran towards home. As they separated at their front doors, Billy pulled Kim to him and whispered, "That was awesome. Wanna do it again tomorrow?" Kim nodded: nothing would stop him from doing it again and again and 3;

Chapter Four

Billy slowed down as he approached the front door to his flat. If he got home too excited, his mother would want to know why he was so cheerful, what he'd been doing, and a million other questions. That's if she was awake and sober that is.

Today she was, and in a bad mood as well. Something had gone wrong that day: Billy didn't ask what, he didn't care. He accepted her foul-mouthed tirade stoically as usual. He had the technique down to a fine art: stand in front of her, just out of arm's length, hands behind you and look at the floor. When she ran out of steam, say 'Sorry': doesn't matter whether he knew what he was apologising for or not. And wait until she said he could go: depending on her mood it would be a 'piss off' or a 'fuck off'. Either way it made no difference. Today it was a 'piss off, runt'. He walked to the kitchen, made his own tea from the scraps that were around, and went to his room to wait until nightfall.

He stripped down to his pants and lay on the bed, arms under his head, thinking. He'd cum five times since last night and it felt OK. His dick was a bit sore after last night, and Kim was a bit rough on it, but it didn't matter, he was happy with the way things were. Mostly anyway. He thought about Kim. He was a good mate and usually fun to be with, apart from his funny ideas about not swearing and 'behaving properly' and his immaculate clothes which he didn't like getting dirty. His house was always clean and tidy and smelled of perfume or something. Whenever he went inside, he felt awkward and never sat down anywhere because he was sure he would leave dirty marks. Billy looked round his bedroom, mentally comparing it with Kim's house. No comparison. For some reason he felt guilty about it and got to his feet.

First he sorted out the pile of clothes on the floor. It wasn't easy sorting out the 'clean' from the 'dirty', but he tried, putting the least-stained and marked in one pile and the other dirtier stuff in another. He stuffed the 'clean' clothes into the draws and rammed the dirty clothes into a plastic carrier bag to hide them. He stacked up his few comics and books into neatish piles and tidied up the few pictures and toys he had. More toys, hitherto left where he'd finished playing with them were stashed in a cardboard box and pushed into a corner. The room was looking better already and he lay back on the bed, pleased with the result.

Nine o'clock came and he cautiously peeped round the door. His mother was dozing, a half-empty Sherry bottle on the table. He carefully crept out and pulled the door closed after him. Tonight he decided to head straight for the bogs just the other side of the town centre. On the way he happened to glance in a newsagents window and a row of magazines high up on the wall caught his attention. They were the same sort as the one he had, but wrapped in plastic bags and put high enough up the wall that he couldn't reach them, even if he did have enough money to buy one, which he never would. Shrugging his shoulders philosophically he wandered off in the direction of the toilets.

There was nothing new on the walls, but he still read the messages anyway. He was beginning to understand them a little better, even since last night. The fun he'd had with Kim explained a lot: if him and Kim liked what they did, then other people must too and that's why they wanted to meet.

He even looked at the drawings of pricks up bums in a different way, perhaps there might be something in it after all, but there was no way he would want to do it. The holes through the walls drew his attention next. They were lower than the ones in the football field bogs, and bigger too.

Still with his trousers on, he pressed himself against one and discovered that he could just about reach it, and because the walls weren't as thick, could probably push his prick all the way through.

He slipped his hand into the torn pocket and started to play with himself until his prick was hard.

Once he felt it good and solid, he sat down on the seat, undid his trousers and pushed them down to his knees. He thought for a second of taking them right off so's he could stretch out, but decided against it in case he had to make a quick escape. Stroking his erection thoughtfully, he realised that this was the first time he'd touched his cock since Kim had wanked him off. The erotic memory stiffened it even more and he closed his eyes as he recalled the fantastic feeling of Kim's soft skin and black fingers on his dick.

He was snapped out of his reverie by the sound of the next door banging shut and the bolt being slid home. Panicking he bent down to pull his trousers up when he caught a glimpse of a man through the hole. He was standing up loosening his trousers before he sat down. The panic attack subsided a bit and Billy picked a scrap of toilet paper up off the floor and stuffed it in the hole so's the man couldn't see through. His dick had softened because of his scare, but now he felt safer he stroked it again as he thought about the man next door. Maybe, just maybe, he might be able to snatch a look at his dick through the hole without him knowing. Holding his dick tightly in one hand, as if for support, he very carefully tried to ease the paper out just enough for him to peek through. For a piece of paper so small, it made an incredible amount of noise as it moved and Billy let it go instantly, cursing himself for jamming it in so tight. Then an incredible thing happened – the ball of paper seemed to move all by itself, working its way out of the hole. He stared, fascinated as it inched its way further and further out. Then it dropped to the floor; Billy just caught sight of a finger hastily pulled back. So that was it! Whoever was in the next cubicle wanted to look through the hole. Panting heavily, Billy tried to think what to do next. He badly wanted to see the man's dick, but did the man want to see his tiny little thing, especially since he was only a boy and didn't even have any cock hairs yet? Nervously he bent over keeping an eye firmly fixed on the hole. As he gradually saw more and more through it, he could swear he caught a glimpse of another eye looking back at him but it backed off as he got closer. Cautiously, very cautiously, he got closer. First he saw the man's black trousers: he seemed to be standing up in front of the hole. He got nearer the hole. He was right, the man was standing up facing the hole, and he had his dick out! The stranger was playing with it right in front of the hole so's Billy could see everything! He pressed his forehead against the cold brickwork and stared with his one eye at the sight, The man had a bigger dick than Billy of course, but not all that much, and it was hard because the man was stroking it up and down slowly, just as if he knew Billy was looking at it. Billy examined it carefully. He had brown curly hairs all round it which seemed to make it look nicer. He had big balls which had a covering of hair as well: the man was holding them in one hand as he wanked himself with the other. Billy felt his dick stir in his own much smaller hand as he rubbed it: he was dimly aware that he was leaking that stuff out as well.

This was exciting and he kept looking at the man's big cock as if he was in a trance, wanking his own dick absent-mindedly. Then the man moved. He bent down and put his eye towards the hole: Billy stood back, suddenly frightened for some reason, but then guessed that it was his turn to show the man his dick. He didn't really want to let him see it because it was so small and didn't have no hair like his, but then he thought that it was only fair, after all he'd let him see his. Nervously he stood back and turned to face the hole, his pants down at his knees. He stroked his dick, which was still hard and sticking straight out in front of him, sliding his fingers up and down it and holding his balls just like he'd seen the man do. He turned his body slightly so's the man could see all round it and even stood facing him so's he could see the end dripping the stuff as well.

Billy thought he heard the man say, 'Nice one', but he wasn't sure. Then he heard him again, "Very nice." He sounded out of breath. Billy relaxed a little, the man wasn't pissed off 'cause of his size.

Then he spoke again. "Can I suck it?"

Billy didn't believe what he'd heard. Did he hear right? Did the man want to suck his cock? He bent over and put his ear to the hole.

"Want it sucked?"

Billy's heart missed a beat. The man actually wanted to suck him! Eagerly and without a moment's hesitation he stood up and pushed his dick into the hole, pressing his groin against the wall as hard as he could and waited with bated breath to see what happened next. He jumped with surprise as he felt warm, wet lips close around the end of his dick and a tongue start to lick it. The sensation was incredible. The combination of a wet tongue flicking round the sensitive end of his cock and the gentle sucking were wonderful. Billy took a sharp intake of breath and moaned, forcing his body even tighter against the wall to get every last millimetre of his dick into the man's mouth. It was ecstasy. He could only manage to get a tiny bit of the end of his cock into his mouth, but the little he was getting sucked gave him the most breathtaking delight: he felt his legs tremble uncontrollably as the tongue flicked around his piss slit, sending him into paroxysms of moans and groans. Then just as he thought he was going to make the white stuff shoot out, he felt the mouth being taken away, leaving his frustrated dick throbbing in the air. He waited for the man to do it again, but nothing happened. Sadly he pulled his cock out and stared at it, the wet saliva glistening in the dim light.

Then he heard the man's voice again, speaking very quietly. "Come in here," it said.

Billy thought about it. Did he want to go in there with him? It was dangerous: he didn't know who it was and what he would do. He might hit him or something for being so dirty and perverted. But then it was such a good feeling that he wanted some more, and the man had done it once: perhaps he wanted to do it properly and suck all of his dick and make him come properly. Billy made his mind up. Fuck the danger, he wanted his cock sucked again, all of it.

Pulling his trousers up and holding them together with his hand, he unbolted the door and checked to make sure the coast was clear. He heard the bolt unfasten on the next-door cubicle and the door open just a fraction. Hurriedly he ran the two paces and went in, closing the door behind him and looked for the first time at the man. He didn't seem very old – about 20 Billy thought, with a thin face and body, brown curly hair and a nice smile. Billy relaxed.

The man stared back at Billy with wide eyes. "Christ! How old are you?" he asked, the surprise evident in his voice. Billy blushed and stared at the floor: I'm too little and too small he thought, he don't wanna do it.

"Twelve, nearly thirteen," he stammered out.

"You've got a nice big dick for a little boy," the man said as he took it in his hand and stroked it.

"How long have you been doing this?"

Billy didn't know what to say. He didn't want to tell him it was his first time and he didn't want to say he'd been doing it for ages either, so he said nothing. The man didn't ask again. Instead he sat down on the bowl and pulled Billy between his legs. Putting his hands round his bum, he encouraged Billy to move towards him as he opened his mouth to accept his slightly softened cock.

Then he closed his lips round it and stared to lick hungrily on Billy's shaft. Instantly he got hard again and closed his eyes, allowing the warm, tingly feeling to wash over his body. He put his hands in the man's hair and pushed his hips forward, pressing his dick even further into the warm, wet cavity of the man's mouth. He moaned as he felt his tongue running over every bit of his dick, even managing to get inside the bit of skin at the end and licking round his cock head. Once more his legs began to shake and tremble and he had to put his hands on the man's shoulders to stop himself from falling over. He opened his eyes and stared down. The man was wanking himself as he slid Billy's cock in and out of his mouth and Billy hardened up even more as he watched.

Billy dug his fingernails into the man's shoulders, he felt his legs trembling and an awesome glow spread throughout his body as the tongue flicked round his dick. Automatically he thrust his groin in and out, matching the man's sucking motions. Slowly he became aware he was getting close to shooting out his spunk and pushed his cock in with more and more urgency, willing the man to suck harder. He felt his balls tighten up and the now welcomed swelling of his cock. Then, with one final lunge he shoved his throbbing boyhood deep into the waiting throat and fired out his pellets of cum: violently and noisily. He groaned both with the pain and the pleasure of the ejaculation, the man moaning with him and swallowing every last drop as if his very life depended on it. Billy collapsed forward onto the man's chest, recovered and leant back on the wall, gasping for breath, eyes glazed. He was vaguely aware of the man still wanking himself, watching as he shook and jerked almost as much as Billy had, and shot his massive load of spunk out onto the walls and floor.

They half-smiled at each other with a mixture of sheer ecstasy and slight embarrassment. The man whispered, "That was bloody fantastic! Jesus!"

Billy still couldn't speak, instead he broadened his grin and felt happy and content. Once they'd gathered their wits, they dressed quickly and silently, not quite knowing what to say to each other.

The man opened the door a little, checked that there was no one there and leaned over to Billy. He thought he was going to kiss him at first and recoiled, but he whispered in his ear, "That was fucking brilliant, I hope we can meet again. But next time, have a bath first!"

Five minutes later when he was walking slowly back towards home and his mind had stopped doing somersaults, he was replaying the events, smiling to himself and fingering his half-hard dick through his pocket, when he remembered the man's last words, ' have a bath!'. Keeping himself properly clean had never been a major priority in Billy's eyes: he'd always taken his lead from his mother.

Washing at the bathroom sink was usually considered enough, with an occasional perfunctory strip-wash if he was in the mood. The bath was almost always full of dirty washing, waiting for his mother to get round to doing something about it. There wasn't usually any hot water anyway: the heater was only switched on when it was needed, and Billy getting a bath wasn't considered a need except maybe once a week when he went to meet his father. He took his hand out of his pocket and smelt it. The man was right, it didn't smell too good. He wasn't really surprised; after all his dick had been covered several times with the white stuff and spunk, and now the man's spit as well. Even to begin with, his undies weren't too clean anyway, which didn't help. He sighed, knowing he aught do something about it, but not knowing what. His mother certainly wouldn't be any help. Pushing the unpleasant thoughts to the back of his mind, he refreshed the images of getting his cock sucked for the first time and started to jog home.

His mother wasn't in sight when he cautiously opened his front door: he assumed she was in bed.

Creeping to his room, he closed the door and sat on the bed. Thoughtfully he undressed, looking closely at his clothes as he took them off. For the first time, he saw just how grubby and scruffy they were compared with those of all the other boys he knew. Even his newest clothes weren't much better than the ones he had just taken off. What were once bright white underpants always seemed to turn a light shade of grey after being worn and washed just once. He thought of Kim, with his permanently white shirts and underwear and spotless trousers. Feeling depressed and pissed off, he lay back on the bed, pulled the covers over him and put his hands in his groin. At least he had one thing that made him happy.

He waited until his cock was stiff and slowly wanked himself off, letting all his problems disappear as he concentrated on the delight of slowly and sensuously masturbating himself. When he came, he allowed the spunk to shoot where it wanted, not caring in the slightest: he was already dirty and smelly, his clothes were dirty and smelly, even his room was dirty and smelly. He licked his fingers clean, wiped up a bit more he could feel on his tummy, swallowed that, and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Five

Billy woke early the following morning with something on his mind, but he didn't know what. There was something he had to do, but 3;? He put his hand on his morning boner, and started to play with it. No, that was nice and made him feel better, but that wasn't it. Then he remembered. He glanced at the clock, saw he had about an hour before he had to leave for school and lay back thinking. Gradually it dawned on him. The smell. With no little embarrassment now, he realised that the usual odour of stale sweat in his room had changed, and instantly he knew what it was. If he could smell it, so could others, including his mother and Kim. He decided there and then to try and do something about his hygiene. First he searched for the cleanest paid of undies he had. It didn't take very long as he only had two clean pairs, and they weren't all that good. They didn't smell too bad though, and he put a pair on. Next he went to the bathroom and tried to have a good all-over wash, the water was only slightly warm and he soon gave that idea up as the tepid water hit his sensitive prick and balls, making him cringe. He dried himself and went back to his room, got dressed and waited for his mother to get up.

Once he heard her moving around, he nervously opened the door and walked through to the kitchen where she was having a cup of tea. She looked at him questioningly, teacup to her lips.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, hoping this would satisfy her.

"Mmmm," was the only reply. She sat down at the kitchen table and added, "Seeing as you're up so early, you can get your own fuckin' breakfast," then proceeded to ignore him. He chose not to tell her that he always got his own breakfast.

He made a drink and some toast and went to sit in the other room away from his mother, so he could think. He had a germ of an idea and wanted to work on it.

Billy arrived at school almost an hour earlier than he usually did, and was one of the first boys there.

This was important. He checked the cars in the staff car park and saw with relief that Mr Brown's car was already there, in its usual spot. Taking his courage in both hands, he headed off to the gym.

Billy liked Mr Brown, he was his PE and History teacher and they'd always got on well together, mainly because Billy was good at PE and Mr Brown never hassled him. He knocked on his office door nervously.

"Come in," said a voice.

Billy went in to see his teacher sat at the desk reading. He turned to face Billy and asked him what he wanted.

"Sir," Billy started, then paused not knowing quite how to proceed.

"Yes? What can we do for you?" Mr. Brown said kindly, curious as to why a boy should be here so early in the morning "Sir, would you mind if I had a shower? The one at home is broken, and 3;" he tailed off, his nerve gone. This wasn't going to work; he felt stupid and ashamed of himself.

Tom Brown knew Billy, and was well aware of his background. He knew they didn't have a shower at home, hell, he hardly even had a home! But the boy was upset and frightened about something.

He stood up and put an arm on Billy's shoulder, bringing him to the middle of the room. The lad was right, he needed a shower badly, and unless he was mistaken, mixed up in the smell of boy was that unmistakable smell of stale sex. Smiling inwardly to himself, and also feeling sorry for the lad, he made a snap decision.

"Do you want to use mine, or would you prefer to go into the changing rooms?"

Billy lifted his head up and looked at his teacher, tears in the corner of his eyes for some reason.

"This one, if I can." The thought of being in the big changing room by himself, naked, worried him.

"OK. It's all yours."

The teacher's shower was simply a white-tiled box-shaped structure without either curtain or door, just a deep porcelain tray set in the floor in the corner of the office.

"Drop your clothes on the chair," he added as he turned the water on and returned to his desk, thinking.

Billy stripped off after glancing round to make sure Mr Brown wasn't watching him get stripped. He piled his clothes on the chair ands stepped into the hot, steaming spray. It was lovely. He turned his face up to the needles of water and rubbed them into his head and body letting the warmth soothe away his stress.

He jumped as a hand touched his shoulder. Spinning round and opening his eyes, he saw Mr. Brown holding out some shampoo and soap towards him.

"Here, use these, they might help," he smiled and tussled his wet hair. "Take as long as you like."

Billy reached out and took them, smiling back, all nervousness now gone.

Taking the opportunity, Tom Brown looked they boy over quickly and carefully. It wasn't unknown for lads from his background to suffer physical abuse, and it was an important part of his job to notify the authorities in such cases. Fortunately, there were no such signs, just an underweight, slightly undersized boy, well on the way to sexual maturity. He turned and saw his clothes piled on the chair. They were filthy, recently washed maybe, but still dirty. He picked the underpants up and turned them over, eying the stains in the crotch. They confirmed why the boy wanted to shower so desperately: he was most certainly sexually active as well as sexually developed! Smiling broadly, he dropped the trousers back on the chair and went to the store room.

Two minutes later he was back with a couple of pairs of trousers and some pants in his hand. He sat on his chair, arms folded on the back of it, watching the boy shower. It wasn't very often, very rarely in fact, that he had the chance to watch a beautiful adolescent boy shower himself in privacy.

He adjusted his cock under his sweat pants.

Billy was thoroughly enjoying the shower, taking great pleasure in rubbing the soap all over himself and rinsing it off. He wasn't aware that he had an erection starting, but Mr Brown knew.

Having done his hair, twice, Billy reluctantly turned the shower off and waved his hands about vaguely in the direction he thought a towel was. Mr Brown stood up, walked over and handed Billy the towel.

Stepping out of the tray with his head covered by the towel, he tripped slightly and stumbled forward, to be caught by his teacher. He pulled the towel away, looked at Mr Brown and mumbled a thanks, aware his hands were still holding him round the chest, and not minding in the least. Mr Brown stood and waited until Billy was dry and handed him the clean pants he'd found.

"Try these on, if you want. They're lost property and nobody has claimed them, so you can have them if they fit. Automatically Billy pulled them on, realising with acute embarrassment at the same time that he had a boner, pointing unashamedly at his teacher! He blushed bright crimson as he stared at it.

"Don't worry!" Mr Brown laughed, "It's not the first one I've seen!" Or the last I hope, he thought to himself.

Billy finished putting the pants on, slightly confused.

"Here, see if these fit."

Billy looked at the trousers, and picking the pair he thought would fit, put them on. He examined himself and decided they were OK. "Thanks!" he said, still slightly bemused.

"Keep them."

Billy felt great in his new pants and trousers and would have loved to keep them on, but 3;

"I – I – I can't," Billy stammered. "If Mum sees them, she'll go mad, 'specially if she finds out the school gave 'em to me. We ain't poor you know." His defensive hackles had risen. He knew just how little money they had, he knew how badly they lived as well, but she was still his mother and much as he would've liked to keep the clothes, he knew she'd go apeshit if she found out.

"Tell you what," Tom Brown said kindly, "How about if you got to school early, changed into these for the day and changed again before you went home?"

It took only a split second for Billy to make his mind up. Grinning widely, he took a step forwards and was about to hug Mr Brown, but just in time remembered who he was. "oh, err, err, thanks, Sir!" he said. "Would it be alright to do that?"

"Yep. Sure it would. But only one thing though," he added, "It's got to be our little secret."

There was no particular reason why it should be kept a secret; clothes were often 'lent' to boys who'd had an accident or torn their clothes or something. But this time, he felt that there might be some mileage in building up a relationship with this lad. In any case, there was very little likelihood of Billy telling anyone where he got his new trousers from, it was just that he wanted to watch the boy change twice a day.

Billy smiled conspiratorially at Mr Brown and promised he'd keep it a secret.

He walked proudly to his first lesson of the day, feeling better than he had for a very long time. He was clean, he felt good, he even smelled good. And he had trousers and pants on that weren't torn and dirty. Mentally, he thanked Mr Brown, and in some ways regretted not hugging him when he nearly did. Why did his cock start to get hard and a picture of that man in the toilet flash across his mind when he thought of his PE teacher? Shrugging his shoulders at the probably unconnected association, he went into his English lesson.

Chapter Six

Kim had decided not to meet up with Billy again, not for the sort of thing they'd done yesterday anyway. He'd spent a very uncomfortable night thinking about it. It got so's he couldn't think of anything else; he'd been fidgeting all evening, unable to concentrate on anything at all except Billy and the things between their legs. He was sure his mum and dad could read his mind and knew just what dirty and perverted things they'd done together. But they were nice though, that was the worst thing about it: he would have loved to do it again, but was afraid. He had a bath and went to bed, hoping he would feel better in the morning.

With his bedroom light out and the house quietened down for the night, he lay back and despite his best efforts couldn't help thinking about it again. Why did something he liked so much and made him feel so good, make him feel so bad at the same time? He put his hand inside his pyjamas and felt for his penis. It was already half-hard he thought to himself, and it still felt good to hold. It got harder as he automatically stroked it like Billy had done. The feeling came back that he'd had in that smelly awful room that he and Billy had been in – it was nice. He carried on stroking it, gradually letting his hand go faster and faster, the sensations spreading out from his penis and testicles spreading all through him, making his body hot and super-sensitive. He stopped what he was doing, hurriedly removed his pyjamas, and started again. That was much better. He held his testicles lightly and allowed himself to concentrate on this terrific new feeling. Quicker and quicker he went until he felt a dull sort of ache in his testicles, but still he carried on, simply unable to stop even if he wanted to.

Then it happened again, his penis grew a bit, then throbbed and finally spurting out that white stuff again. At the same time his whole body seemed to go stiff and his back bent upwards, lifting his groin and spasming penis into the air. Kim watched as the liquid arched high up in the air and fell onto his chest and legs before slowing down to a dribble running over his fingers. Boy was that good! He gasped for breath as he listened intently for any movement in the house, certain that his parents must know by now what he was doing. There was a deathly silence, much to his relief. He understood now why Billy had to share his brilliant discovery with him – it was unbelievably satisfying.

Once he'd recovered his composure, he became aware of two things. Firstly he was covered in a white, sticky mess which had to be cleaned up. Secondly, he would do it again if Billy asked: the chance of doing it again just couldn't be missed. He cleaned the mess up with his pyjama trousers before putting them back on, and wondered if he would see Billy tomorrow.

Chapter Seven

Billy had a wonderful day. He actually enjoyed his lessons and took an active part in them for a change. Even the teachers and other boys seemed to take notice of him and listened to what he had to say. Neither was he aware of anybody taking the piss out of him which they usually did. The only thing that went slightly wrong was that he couldn't find Kim anywhere, one reason being that he went into the library at lunch-time to see what he could find out about 'growing up', lost track of time and missed the chance. Still, perhaps they'd meet up after school. After he'd changed out of his nice clothes.

When school finished for the day, Billy took his time clearing up his things and walked slowly towards the gym block; he didn't want to get there before the other kids left. He was also oddly excited. This morning, he didn't like getting undressed in front of his teacher, even less did he like having a shower in full view of him. But that feeling had vanished after a while because Mr Brown had made him feel so special and looked after him: he didn't even make fun of him when he got a hard on. Now he knew it was OK and in a funny sort of way was even looking forward to it.

He put his head round the half-open door and saw Mr Brown sat on his desk. "Hello, Sir. Is it alright if I get changed?" he asked.

"Yes, of course. Come in."

Billy walked in, shutting the door behind him carefully. He saw his old clothes piled neatly on the chair where he'd left them this morning and walked over to them. Unsure what to do, he picked them all up in a bundle and looked at his teacher.

"Get changed here if you like, or you can go next door into the changing room. Do you want another shower?"

"Err, no thanks. I'll change here though, if that's OK."

"Sure."

Tom Brown sat on his chair, watching the boy undress.

"So, what sort of day have you had, Billy?" he said without taking his eyes off him.

"Good, thanks. At least nobody gave me a boll 3;, a telling off today," he smiled as he removed his shoes and socks.

They carried on talking as Billy undid his trousers, started to take them off and paused. He glanced at Mr Brown and didn't mind the fact that he was watching him, he rather liked it in fact – it gave him that tingly feeling in his balls.

Mr Brown stood up and said, "Sorry, Billy, Do you want me to go?"

"No, not really. I don't mind." He took his trousers off and began to peel his pants down. His dick was about half hard now and got harder as he stepped out of his undies. He was neither embarrassed or afraid now, just a little bit excited. He stood up and gave Mr Brown a grin before turning his back to grab his old undies.

Both of them were thinking along the same lines.

Perhaps he likes doing things. Maybe 3; Billy mused.

I wonder if he would 3;? the teacher thought.

There was a certain tenseness in the air as Tom watched Billy finish dressing. They both found it exciting.

"Having another shower in the morning?" Tom asked as Billy carefully folded his new clothes up and placed them on the chair.

"Yeah, if I can," Billy answered. "I'll be here in the morning. Same time?"

"Yes, that'll be fine."

"Thanks!" Billy said. He would have liked to stay and talk for a while, but as he couldn't think of a good reason, he said, "Cheerio," and gave him a huge smile.

There was no sign of Kim as he walked home. Billy was late, he knew, but not all that much: fifteen minutes maybe, but not more. He debated whether or not to go to 'The House' and snatch a quick look at his book before going home. It didn't seem quite so appealing to him now, there were other, much better, things to make him feel good. He added Mr Tom Brown to the collection of thoughts that made his dick get hard, and wandered off in the direction of home.

By the time Billy reached his flat, Kim had changed out of his school uniform, had his tea and was waiting on the communal balcony for his friend to show up. They smiled at each other and leaned over the wall, looking at the ground so far below.

"You're late home," Kim said conversationally.

"Yeah. I took the long way round for a change."

"Right."

Kim desperately wanted Billy to ask him if he felt like doing 'it' again. He didn't have the courage to ask him directly, but imagined if he thought hard enough about it, some sort of telepathic message might get through. Billy's mind was on other things though, his tea for one. He was hungry. He also felt slightly unclean. He'd been wearing those nice clean clothes all day, and the shock of having to put on his own things back on to go home in made him uncomfortable and itchy.

"You smell different. Had a bath?" Kim asked out of the blue. He wasn't being nasty or anything like that, just a comment.

"Yeah. I spilt some stuff on me at school and had to have a shower." He was a practised liar: he had to be.

"Oh. You smell nice anyway."

Billy glanced at Kim and smiled, pleased that he'd said how good he smelt. That was a first, usually it was quite the opposite. His glance dropped down to Kim's groin and saw the bright gleam of a zip curving over his erection.

"Wanna, you know, do something?" Billy asked, suddenly forgetting all about his stomach.

"Yes, OK, if you like. Where?" Kim replied as casually as his elation would allow.

"The house?" Billy replied. It would take about ten minutes each way, plus another ten or twenty minutes there. That gave him half an hour, give or take; he wouldn't be missed.

"OK, then." Kim said, more excited than he dared show.

Despite both their attempts to be casual, they were there in just over five minutes. Once in the room, stretched out looking at each other's groins, they smiled at each other, still unsure of what do to next.

"Wanna get it out?" Billy asked.

Billy thought he'd asked Kim if he wanted to get his own dick out first, and was a bit surprised when Kim grinned, said, "Yes," and reached over to unfasten Billy's trousers.

Unfazed, but mentally jumping for joy, he leaned over and returned the favour.

"That's nice!" Billy muttered as once more he held Kim's raging boner in the palm of his hand.

"Mmmmm, so's your's," Kim answered.

The boys made a sort of circle on the blanket, heads and toes touching and their hands reaching across to fondle each other gently.

"Wanna take your trousers off?" Billy asked, "I can't reach it properly."

Kim was having the same problem, but was reluctant to get undressed any more than he was, 'just in case'.

"No, but we can push 'em down a bit if you like."

This done, Billy and Kim stared at each other's groins, intrigued. Neither had had the opportunity to look at anyone else in the same way they were now, and they were fascinated. Kim's black skin shone in the half-light, with a beautiful brown/black sheen. His four-inch [10 cm] dick was a bit darker in colour, which made his purple cockhead seem bigger and much nicer-looking.

Billy's pink, almost white skin was delightfully soft and yielding, giving up a warm glow as Kim ran his hands over it. Billy's cock was shiny with that stuff leaking on it, making it look almost transparent. They started to pull and push their hands along the steel-hard shafts, giving each stroke a little twist to make it feel better. Once in a while their eyes made contact and a happy, contented smile was exchanged.

"When did you do it last?" Kim asked curiously, now finding it surprisingly hard to breath.

"Last night. You?" Billy replied.

"Same. Made a big mess though." He giggled at the recollection.

"Yeah, it does sometimes," Billy said, staring at the beautiful dick he was slowly jerking off. Idly, he wondered what it would taste like. He was just about to suggest it when he bit his tongue and thought better of it. Kim, he sensed, wasn't ready for that sort of thing yet.

Their hands sped up, each losing himself in the sensations of being wanked and wanking at the same time. In their admittedly short lives, they already knew there was no other feeling like it. Almost frantically they worked one another up towards the inevitable orgasm which both so badly wanted.

"I'm coming," Billy panted, "Now!" He almost screamed as he shot his volcano-hot spunk out in four massive spurts, each ending up in Kim's groin. He thrust his hips forward as he shot out his last effort and met Kim's cock coming towards him.

"Me too," Kim just managed to say as his load spasmed out along Billy's stomach, their cocks now side-by-side, Kim almost laying on top of his friend.

Billy put his arms round Kim and hugged him tight as his cock gave one last desperate spasm.

Kim's face was inches from Billy's, their noses almost touching. Without thinking, Billy pushed Kim's head down and kissed him quickly on the lips, letting him go instantly as he realised what he'd done.

"Fuck it!" he said forcefully, "Fuck it, oh Jesus, I'm sorry, Kim. I didn't mean it, honest."

Kim was shocked. Not so much by the fact that he'd just been kissed by a boy, but by the fact that he didn't mind.

"That's OK, Billy," he replied quietly. "I didn't mind, honestly. It just surprised me, that's all."

Billy breathed a sigh of relief and grinned, pleased that his friend wasn't totally pissed off by his stupid behaviour.

Kim hadn't moved an inch: he was still in something of a state of shock, not only from his massive ejaculation, but also the kiss. Smiling, he gave Billy an equally quick peck on his lips, and said, "There. Now we're equal."

They sat upright, cross-legged and giggled at each other.

"Awesome!" Billy said.

"Brilliant!" Kim replied.

Both boys now being satisfied, at least for the time being, they dressed and walked home.

Billy's mother was in a fairly good mood for a change and gave him no aggro as he walked in the front door. He could guess why, there was that familiar man scent in the house again. He also now recognised the odour instantly, after all he'd smelt it often enough the past few days. He wrinkled his nose, shuddered involuntarily and went to find his tea. A phrase he'd heard somewhere came to mind – What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. He smiled to himself and began to eat.

Billy didn't go out that night. Apart from anything else, he felt a bit tired. It'd been a long and strange day for him. A good one though, a very good one in fact. He sat in the easy chair, turning things over in his mind.

After pretending to watch tv for a couple of hours, he went to his room. He lay on his bed, picked up a pile of comics and skimmed through them, one hand inside his trousers. Had he but known it, Kim was doing almost exactly the same thing in his bedroom except he was completely naked and wanking himself off, thinking of Billy and the kiss.

Chapter Eight

Billy was at school early again the following morning, this time going straight to the gym before any other kids saw him. He tried the office door, which, as he half expected, was locked: if it'd been open, somehow he knew that Mr Brown wouldn't have minded if he'd waited in there for him.

Going into the changing room, he lay on the wooden bench, folded his arms over his eyes and waited.

Fifteen minutes later, he heard the key turn in the lock. Getting to his feet he went and knocked on the door. After only a slight pause, he heard Mr. Brown invite him in. He was stood at his desk, pouring himself a cup of tea from his flask, still with his outdoor coat on.

"Hello, young man. You're bright and early today," he smiled.

"Sorry," Billy replied, "I'll come back later if you like." For an instant he thought he'd blown it by being too anxious and getting here so early.

"No, that's alright. Come and take a pew." Mr Brown pulled up a spare chair and waited for Billy to sit down.

"No problems at home about, you-know-what?" he was asked.

"No, nothing," he smiled.

"Good. Want a drink?"

Billy hadn't a clue what he was being offered, but took it anyway. It was tea, hot and sweet.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while and finished their drink.

"You going to take your shower now?" Mr Brown asked.

"Yeah, if I can."

"Sure. Would you mind if I got changed while you're in the shower?" Mr Brown asked.

"No, 'course not. I'd like 3; I mean, I don't mind," Billy stammered out, blushing at what he'd almost said. Why did this man make him feel so strange, and make him blush so easily? "Good," he replied as he went in search of Billy's school things.

They half-watched each other as they stripped. Billy wasn't sure what Mr Brown meant exactly by 'getting changed', he assumed he meant putting his school PE stuff on and wondered how much he took off first.

Billy stripped, leaving his undies until last, hiding his erection for as long as possible. Mr Brown stripped down to his pants as well and watched as Billy removed the last item of his clothing. His dick sprung upwards and outwards, once again sticking out at Mr Brown. He grinned and stood still.

"The soap and stuff is over there," Mr Brown said, pointing to a shelf on the far wall. He made no effort to go and get it for him, preferring to sit on the desk and watch the boy go and get it.

Billy didn't mind in the slightest. He walked over to the shelf, picked up the things and walked back, his cock and balls bouncing provocatively in front of him.

A bulge began to rise in Mr Brown's boxers.

Once the water temperature was adjusted, Billy turned round to face the room, and Mr Brown. He saw the rising tent and almost jumped for joy as he realised he was going to be OK with him.

Starting at his feet, he soaped his body up as far as his groin and washed himself, only stopping himself with great difficulty from actually rubbing his now painfully erect cock.

Hr rinsed the soap off his legs and started to wash his waist and groin area, watching his teacher out of the corner of his eye. Not only was there was a definite pole sticking up now, but also a spreading wet patch as well.

"I thought you were going to get changed," Billy said mischievously, with a glint in his eye. "I don't mind."

Tom Brown swallowed and stared at Billy. Who was seducing whom? Did he dare? He'd fancied a lot of the boys he'd taught, and even felt the cocks, 'accidentally', of a few of them, but he'd never actually acted on his urges other than ogling them as they changed. But now 3;? Billy was definitely giving him the come-on, of that he was certain.

Slowly and deliberately he walked over to the door, locked it and turned the lights off, leaving the high windows to provide the only light.

"Just in case anyone comes," he said. If Billy picked that one up, he knew he was right.

"Good," said Billy. "I feel safer now."

That was it. He was locked in to the situation. Tacit approval had been given for him to make the next move, if he wanted. Did he want? Yes, definitely. Did he dare? He thought about it for the two seconds it took for him to walk from his desk to the shower. Yes. He dared.

"Want me to wash your hair for you?" he asked, his voice now a sensual growl.

"Mmmmmm. Yes please." Billy said, moving over in the shower to make room for him. It was happening! He was actually going to have a shower, naked, with a man! Not only a man, but a teacher as well! The thought or even possibility hadn't even crossed his mind until Mr Brown had asked him if he minded him getting changed whilst he had a shower, and from then on things just seemed to go on. He hadn't a clue as to how it had happened, but he couldn't give a toss, that wasn't important in the slightest. This was the best and most important thing: he was getting into the tiny shower with him!

Tom Brown dropped his boxers to the floor and stepped into the shower, squeezing in between the boy and the wall. Even now, with his solid erection only inches from the boys' waist, he was reluctant to cross that final, ultimate line and touch him. He knew he wanted the boy, knew that the boy wanted him; but he was the adult, the one supposed to be in charge, the teacher. If he touched him, all the thoughts and feelings he'd fought to overcome over the years would count for nothing. He'd been close before, very close at times, but had always managed to resist the temptation. There'd been those looks from boys which he recognised instantly, that slightly too-long eye contact, that slightly too long delay in hiding a burgeoning erection, even a longer than proper hand on waist or leg. He'd managed to overcome those temptations with no little difficulty. But this was different. Billy had made no effort to hide his intentions, no effort to avoid being naked with him, no effort to cover his erections. He was deliberately showing himself off even. Tom stared at the shampoo bottle, unseeing.

Billy, waiting for his hair to be shampooed, turned round to see what the delay was. His dick stood out in front of him, parallel to Mr Brown's and a couple of inches lower. He stared at it, entranced.

It was about two inches [5 cm] longer than his, and a bit thicker; he had that fold of loose skin at the end and mass of curly brown hair at the other. He thought it was beautiful and irresistible, and reached over to touch it. He stopped, just a little bit afraid. Should he be the first to touch? He wasn't sure.

With Kim it'd been easy, they were both boys and the same age more or less, but this was a man and therefore in charge. Or was he? He wasn't moving, making no attempt to wash his hair or even touch him. Billy understood the feelings he must be having and decided to make the first move.

Stepping forward a few inches he lifted his swollen cock up in the palm of his hand and touched the hyper-sensitive end of it to Mr Brown's. He looked up at his face and smiled gently. Half a pace more and the two dicks were side-by-side, Billy's hand closed around them.

Tom Brown sighed, gave up all pretence of thinking that he would be able to resist temptation and extricate himself from the situation. He pulled the boy to him, their cocks now squeezed between their bodies.

For some minutes they hugged each other, rocking to and fro under the hot water, two hard pricks being at the centre of their wet little universe.

Billy had never been hugged very much, not by his mother, and certainly not by his father, not by anyone. He'd always been slightly envious of the boys who were given a hug at the school gates in the morning, wondering why his mother didn't do it to him even when she used to walk him to junior school. Now he was in the arms of a man he realised how much he missed it without knowing: the feeling was one of warmth, safety, comfort and above all contentment. He liked it and clung on tightly, resting his head on the teacher's chest.

Tom felt Billy relax into his arms and clasped his hand together in the small of his back, resting them on top of his perfect butt.

After a couple of minutes enjoying the closeness and comfort together, Tom tilted Billy's head up and looked at him.

"You alright, Billy?"

Billy nodded and stared back at his teacher with wide, doe-like eyes. He was more than alright; he was blissfully fulfilled.

Tom slid a hand between them and felt for Billy's dick, and having found it, folded his fingers round it. It'd been a long time since he'd held a boy's erection, a very long time, and he spent a couple of minutes enjoying the novelty and sensuousness of it. His own cock twitched in sympathy, reminding Billy that it was there. Slowly Billy took it and gripped it tightly, causing Tom to jump.

"Not so tight!" Tom said quietly.

"Sorry, Sir!" Billy replied letting the pressure off a bit.

"I think under the circumstances, you can call me Tom when we're alone," the teacher said.

"OK, Sir, 3; Tom." For some reason Billy didn't feel all that comfortable with this, he'd never even know the first name of most of his teachers, let alone be allowed to call them by it.

Tom found the hot water spray distracting and turned the shower off before beginning to masturbate Billy slowly, making sure his finger and thumb stimulated his cockhead each time he touched it. Billy moaned with delight and worked his own hand along Tom's enormous (to him) dick, watching as the foreskin slipped back and forth over the end of his dick.

"Do you want to come?" Tom asked, whispering in Billy's ear.

"Yeah, oh yeah!" Billy managed to stammer out as his body quivered with the astonishing sensations arising from his dick.

Tom turned Billy round so his back was to him, lay his cock up Billy's back and started to wank him seriously.

Billy was a bit sad to have to let go of his teacher's hard cock, but soon forgot about it as the man got to work. Tom hadn't forgotten how to give a boy a good time. He'd started messing about with boys long before he went to university, when he was at school himself in fact, and had known a good many in his time. Most he'd been with just once or twice, but there were a few he'd got to know very well and had had some fantastic times with them. Once he'd entered college though, he had made a conscious effort to put this sort of thing behind him and to all intents and purposes had become 'normal', if there was such a thing. He'd lapsed once or twice, usually in the local public conveniences with a complete stranger when he couldn't handle the tension, but it was nothing more than a quick relief and wasn't in the slightest bit satisfying. Once he'd started teaching, he'd managed to satisfy his urges by watching his boys changing and showering, and jerking off three or four times a day picturing a particularly attractive boy as he did so – and there had been a good many of them.

Billy, though, was the first one he'd touched in a deliberately sexual way and was still trying to come to terms with it. But not now, he'd think about it later. Just now he was looking over the boy's shoulder as he wanked him off, admiring his perfect, opalescent-looking adolescent cock and hairless balls dancing in front of him. He was an angel; a scruffy one for sure, but nevertheless a scruffy little cherub sent from heaven. To hell with his good intentions.

Billy was thinking heavenly thoughts too, although he wouldn't have put it in quite those terms. Over the past days he'd had some good wanks and enjoyed them all, but this was by far the best. It was the first time he'd been completely naked with anyone, and really liked the contact of skin against skin as he was being played with. Not only that, but he could feel an immense man-cock rubbing up and down his back as he moved. He was glad he couldn't see his teacher's face just now, that would spoil it somehow: For the present he was totally immersed in the sexual attention he was being given by him.

Billy felt the tingles starting in his belly and working their way up to his balls and cock: he knew what was about to happen and held his breath in anticipation. His cock stiffened up and begin to throb: he folded his arms back around the man's waist, grasped his wrists and pulled himself as tight as he could into his body. Once, twice, 3; four times he exploded, the globs of cum shooting across and landing on the white-tiled wall. Even when he'd shot his last, energy-sapping wad of cum, his dick remained hard, as if waiting for just one more spasm. He breathed deeply, letting his body sag into Tom's arms.

He wanted to kiss the man, hug him tightly, meld his body into his and stay like this for ever. But he couldn't. Instead he turned round to look at Tom's face, his smile and eyes saying everything he couldn't. Billy kissed the man on his chest and squeezed him, still hanging on, sure he would collapse on the floor if he didn't.

Tom hadn't cum, but he didn't mind. The boy was delirious with delight he sensed as he was being hugged and kissed on his navel. He was certainly one very hot little boy, Tom thought, and a more than willing one at that.

Regretfully, they eventually had to separate: time was moving on. Stepping out of the shower, they dried themselves and got dressed, Tom in his PE teachers sweats and T-shirt, Billy in his school clothes.

Tom sat at his desk waiting for Billy to finish dressing, his mind still in the shower, unable to even think about work let alone do any. He felt the boy's hands on his shoulder and turned to face him.

Billy was beaming at him.

"See you after school, Sir. Tom," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

"Yes. OK then. Have a good day," Tom replied, not quite believing what had just taken place in his shower.

"Great. By the way, you didn't wash my hair yet!" Billy giggled as he unlocked the door and scampered out.

Unlike Billy, Tom didn't have a very good day – he couldn't concentrate on anything at all. He bitterly regretted letting things get out of hand this morning, and was seriously worried that Billy would tell someone, deliberately or otherwise. That would mean the end of his job, the wrecking of his career and social disgrace at the very least. At worst, 3; he didn't even want to think about those possibilities. By mid-afternoon, when he'd heard nothing from anyone, he decided that so far Billy hadn't said anything and relaxed a little. The testing time would come after school ended for the day, when one of three things would happen he decided: Billy wouldn't turn up at all, Billy would turn up with the headmaster in tow, or Billy would turn up and act as if nothing at all had happened. Of the three, he preferred the last. At least then he would know that the boy was going to keep quiet about it, even if he never did it again.

The tap came on his office door about ten minutes after school had closed. He shouted a 'Come in,' and turned round, a sudden pain gripping him in the pit of his stomach. It was Billy, and only Billy.

He came in and closed the door behind him.

"All right, sir?" Billy asked, smiling and dropping his school bag to the floor.

"Mmmmmm? Oh, yes, thank you." Tom said, allowing himself to breath now, the pain in his stomach easing slightly.

"Great. Is it all right if I get changed now?"

"Yeah, sure. Your things are where you left them." He was going to add 'this morning', but decided this morning was best unmentioned.

Billy stripped, completely, before asking his teacher if he should lock the door. Tom faced the tantalisingly naked Billy, wishing he hadn't asked that particular question. He knew what it meant, and was unsettled by it. Firstly it meant that Billy wasn't at all disturbed by the morning's events, and secondly that he was looking for more of the same.

There was no way could they do anything now, even if they wanted, Tom realised gladly. There were still too many people around: cleaners getting started on their work, teachers clearing up and the odd boy or two. Much too risky.

But still Billy stood there, pants in one hand, an erection in front of him and an expectant look on his face.

Tom knew he was beaten, and knew he'd been seduced by this perfect-looking boy.

"Put those on, and come in here," Tom said quietly as he stood up and walked into the store room.

Sadly, and a little curiously, Billy did what he was told. He'd been looking forward to some more sexy fun all day, but now he sensed he wasn't going to get any. From the sound of Tom's voice, he wasn't even sure now if they would ever do it again. Pulling his pants on over his now flaccid penis, he followed 'his man' into the darkened room.

Tom decided not to turn the lights on; it would be easier somehow if he said what he had to say in the gloom. Pulling up a chair, he sat down and waited for Billy to come in. The boy stood directly in front of him, closer than any other boy would, especially ones clad in only their underpants. Tom took a deep breath, tried to ignore the sight, and started.

"Billy, What happened this morning, 3;"

He got no further. Billy knew as soon as he started to speak, what was coming. He'd heard that tone of voice so many times before: from his mother, from his father, from his teachers and from many others. It meant bad news, disappointment and sadness. But this time, he suddenly decided, this time for the first time in his life, he was determined to fight back. And fight back with the only weapon he had – himself.

He took a step closer to Tom, put his hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye, challenging him to carry on and finish what he was going to say.

Tom stopped, confused by the boy's reaction. He stared into his eyes and abruptly realised that what the boy was offering, and needed more than anything else, was his friendship and attention.

The sex was only a part of it, admittedly the driving part, but still only a part. The lad's background flashed through his mind: no father, an uncaring mother and no family to speak of. He was lonely, probably afraid, and needed loving. He was overcome with emotion, feeling desperately sorry for the boy and at the same time completely helpless. He pulled Billy to him and held him gently.

Billy suddenly felt very tired and drained of all energy, as if some great weight had been lifted off his shoulders, a weight he didn't even know he carried. Much to his surprise he felt tears running down his cheeks: hot, uncontrollable tears. He locked his arms round the man's neck, gripped him tightly and let his sobs run free: he hadn't cried for ages, he couldn't even remember when or why. Billy didn't know why he was crying now, all he felt was a sense of release from some sort of tremendous pressure and the fact that he could cry if he wanted without embarrassment. He let himself be seated on Tom's knee and tried to stop crying.

Tom cuddled the boy, holding his head on his shoulder and waiting for the sobs to subside. He was aware that his door was closed, but not locked, and would have difficulty in explaining why he had an almost naked boy in tears on his lap. Just for the moment though he didn't care – he had a more pressing problem on his lap. Patiently he waited until Billy pulled himself together.

Eventually Billy sat up, rubbed his eyes with his fists and stared at Mr Brown, still not comprehending why he'd let himself down so badly, crying like a stupid baby.

"Come on, Billy, get dressed and then we'll talk."

The two walked back into the office, Billy leaning on Tom for support. He helped Billy dress himself before sitting on his desk chair and putting him back on his lap. At least if anyone came in the room now, he would have less to explain.

They both knew that they had to talk, but neither knew where to start or what to say. Billy twirled a lock of Tom's hair between his fingers as he thought. He'd always liked this man and thought at last he'd found a grown-up who wasn't pissed off with him all the time and actually cared how he looked and how clean he was, and everything else. But now he was going to push him away, just like all the others had and he didn't know why. The only thing was the sexy stuff they'd done this morning, but then the door was locked, the lights were out and it didn't matter that much anyway.

So why? Slowly he realised that what they'd done could get the man sacked from his job, and worse. Billy hadn't been fair to Tom, he hadn't understood all what he'd done, but now he did.

"Are you going to send me away?" Billy asked, becoming tearful again.

"No, not if you don't want." Tom replied, grateful the conversation had started.

"Thanks. And can I still come here and change my clothes?"

"Yes, of course." Tom hugged the boy in confirmation.

There was one last thing to clear up. Billy shuffled a bit on the man's lap and steeled himself to ask the last question.

"And can we, well you know, do what we did this morning, just sometimes?"

Tom had given this a little thought overt the past few minutes and decided that if the boy wanted to mess about a bit, then he couldn't, wouldn't, say no. There had to be some ground rules though.

"Yes, we can if you really want to, but we shouldn't ever do it in school, and no one must ever find out. It'd get us both in very serious trouble."

Billy smiled and felt a lot happier. He even kissed Tom on the cheek and hugged him, grinning.

"Thanks!" he whispered.

Tom felt his dick hardening, despite what he'd just said. He too was happy now that they'd sorted things out between themselves. Billy felt the hardening cock next to his thigh, and allowed his own to grow. He slipped his hand down and felt Tom's erection between his fingers.

"If we can't do it here, where can we do it?" he whispered, urgently, grasping his own cock through his trousers as if seeking inspiration.

He hadn't thought as far as that yet. God forbid, half an hour ago Tom was praying that he'd never see Billy again.

"Where do you live?" Tom asked. He knew the address, but couldn't place it.

"On the estate, in that big block of flats."

Tom knew it immediately of course, and felt even sorrier for the lad, knowing the reputation it had.

He lived on the main road, less than half a mile, and a world, away.

"I live on the main road, not far from you." Tom explained, not at all sure that he should have said even that much.

Billy looked at Tom, the unspoken question hanging in the air.

"What time have you got to be home?" Tom asked, hating himself for even thinking what he was.

"Soon, but I'm coming out again afterwards," he said, now stroking the back of Tom's neck.

Tom debated with himself, knowing precisely what he was going to say and do next, but nevertheless pretending he had a choice.

"OK, I live at number 47. Ring the doorbell as soon as you get there." Then he added, stupidly, on reflection, "Try not to let anyone see you."

Billy, now serious, said he would do his best.

The two new friends stood up, preparing to go their separate ways for the time being. Billy picked up his school bag, made to leave the office and changed his mind at the last second. Running to Mr. Brown, he hugged him tightly and left, with a cheery, "See ya later!"

Tom wished he felt as cheerful. He knew he was taking a phenomenal risk, but seeing Billy's happy face as he left made it more than worthwhile Billy raced home, his feet hardly seeming to touch the ground, grinning insanely to himself. He'd forgotten all about Kim, the toilets and even the other man. There was only one thing on his mind now and it made him delirious with delight. As he climbed the stairs to his flat, he saw Kim waiting for him on the balcony.

Fuck you, fuck my mother and father, fuck the world! he thought to himself. None of you have got what I've got. Then he slowed down as he remembered his promise to keep it a secret – a big secret. He'd have to talk to his mother and Kim just as if everything was normal – he wasn't sure if he could do it, but he'd have a damn good try. He'd just have to do it.

"Where you been?" Kim asked, "I thought we might go to the house."

"Sorry I'm late. I got detention," he said, raising a grim smile. Thankfully Kim didn't ask what for, he was more interested in other things as his trousers showed. "Sorry, but I don't feel like going out tonight," he added, "I've got some homework to do."

Kim didn't believe him for a second, Billy never did homework. Feeling somehow slighted, he turned, gave Billy a glare and went indoors.

I'll have to watch that one, Billy thought to himself, He mustn't find out. I 'spose we'll have to do things sometimes. He stored it in his memory and went indoors to get his tea.

Chapter Nine

An hour later found Billy walking quickly towards Mr Brown's house. Number 47, number 47, he kept repeating to himself over and over again, burning it in his mind. He recognised the house as soon as he saw it, he'd passed it dozens of times on his way to town. It was the left-hand house of a semi-detached pair, no different to any others in the road until now. The numerals '4' and '7' on the door stood out like beacons, now forever marking the house as special.

He waited until a man and woman had walked past the house and disappeared round the corner before running down the garden path and pressing the doorbell.

It was answered a minute or two later by Tom, dressed casually in sweat pants and shirt.

"Come in, come in," Tom smiled. Up until the sound of the bell, Tom had more than half-hoped that Billy's nerve would crack and he wouldn't turn up. They would go to school tomorrow and behave as if nothing has ever happened. But as soon as he heard the door, he was surprisingly happy, pleased that 'his boy' had had the courage and motivation to do as he'd said.

Billy walked, slightly nervously, into his teacher's house, in one glance his eyes taking in the obvious luxury in which he lived. He was impressed; the flat he lived in was about the same size as the ground floor of this house, and there was another floor upstairs! All this space for one person! It was clean and tidy as well, infinitely cleaner than his own place, and smelled of air freshener and good cooking. He was shown into the living room and stood, waiting to be told where to sit, acutely aware of his unkempt appearance.

Tom sat on the enormous sofa in front of the tv and lay his arm across the back of it, inviting Billy to join him. Billy took a step or two towards him and stood, staring down at his grubby jeans, he didn't want to mark his nice furniture with whatever had stained them. Tom saw the glance and said not to worry, it was alright. He sat down in the centre of the sofa and looked round the room at the shelves of books, video films, CD's and hifi stuff. There was a desk, stacked high with school things, books to be marked, timetables and all the other stuff teachers needed. He chose not to look too closely at it. He folded his hands in his lap and wondered what would happen next; he was excited and tried not to let it show too much. Excited at being in such a lovely home, excited at being alone with Tom, and excited at what he hoped they would be doing later.

"You feeling better than you did at school?" Tom asked, "Things a bit better for you?"

"Yeah. – Errr, Yes. It's nice here isn't it?" Even his speech improved in these surroundings.

"Not bad. Would you like to watch a video?"

It was Tom's honest intention to invite Billy to his home, and if he turned up explain that they could stay friends, but they must not do anything like they'd done again. Being friendly with a pupil, especially a young boy pupil, was bad enough, but doing anything sexual was simply not an option.

He'd asked Billy if he wanted to watch a video to slow things down a bit and give him time to think how to tell him.

Billy didn't want to watch a video particularly, he wanted to, well, not to put too fine a point on it, get on with it, but appreciated the offer and said yes. Tom selected one more or less at random and put it on to play, the volume turned well down so they could talk.

He returned to his seat, put an arm on Billy's should and pulled him towards him. They sat in the corner of the sofa, Billy resting comfortably, in Tom's arm.

"What time have you got to be home?" Tom asked glancing at the clock.

"Don't – err – doesn't, matter," he said truthfully. "She probably won't even know I'm out. As long as I'm home for breakfast!" he giggled.

Tom sighed: he was almost certainly telling the truth unfortunately.

"Good. You comfortable?"

"Mmmmmm, This's nice," Billy sighed, nestling in closer to 'his man' as he was already beginning to think of him.

Billy stared at Tom's groin, looking for any signs of life to match the one growing in his jeans. There wasn't. How could anyone be so close and not get a hard on? he mused. He always did and assumed everyone else did too. Billy moved his hand down, adjusted his boner so it was less painful and wriggled himself closer.

Tom saw the movement, recognised the cause and felt his resolve weakening. Things were going to be difficult. Against his wishes, his dick started to get bigger as he thought about the boy in his arm, and the reason, the only reason, he'd appeared tonight. Billy, noticing the tent building in Tom's groin, moved a hand tentatively towards it, looking at Tom for approval.

Tom's good intentions went out the window to be replace with sheer wanton lust; the lad was too irresistible, too determined and too available. Billy wasn't going to be dissuaded easily. He nodded slightly, and asked Billy to sit up for a moment. Once free of the seductive bundle he was cuddling, Tom stood up, closed the curtains and turned the wall-lights on. Instantly the room was transformed into a haven of peace, tranquillity – and seduction. Tom sat down again, spreading his legs apart slightly to give his now fully erect cock some room. Billy lay full length on the sofa, laying on his left side with his head on Tom's thigh. His right hand he rested on Tom's dick, first feeling it gently through the thin material, then running his index finger along its length and round the head. He watched as it blossomed even more under his touch, giving the occasional twitch as he found a particularly sensitive spot, then the little wet spot appearing. Billy reached down and unfastened his jeans, pushing the zip down as far as it would go. That felt enormously better, his dick now having the room to stretch to its full length inside his pants. He sighed, perfectly content and stared unseeing at the tv screen. Once more he was happy. Without seeking permission, he worked his hand inside Tom's sweats. Rather to his surprise, he wasn't wearing any underwear, and found his red-hot dick waiting for him, already leaking. They both sighed, Tom spreading his legs even further apart.

"Can I take my clothes off?" Billy asked in a whisper.

Tom realised that Billy had made almost all the moves so far, and felt that he aught to do something to show he was just as keen as he was for things to progress.

"Yes, if you like. Stand up a minute," Tom said quietly.

Billy did as he was asked and placed himself in front of Tom, waiting. Tom looked the boy up and down, picturing him naked. He gripped Billy's T-shirt at the waist , slipped it over his head to reveal a beautiful, taught chest with perfect little nipples of them, without a vestige of a hair, just as Tom liked.

Then off came his shoes and socks, immediately followed by his trousers being slid down slowly, his thighs and legs being exposed inch by tantalising inch. Tom felt his dick throb in anticipation. Billy stepped out of his trousers and moved closer to Tom, now standing between his thighs. Tom inserted his thumbs inside the waistband of the cherub's pants and carefully worked them over the horizontal boner pointing directly at his navel, which, to his surprise, was dripping pre-cum slightly.

He stared at Billy's groin as he took his pants right off and left them on the floor. The lad wasn't in the slightest embarrassed at being stood, naked, with an adorable hard on; in fact he looked rather pleased with himself if anything. Not for the first time, Tom wondered who was seducing whom, not that it mattered in the slightest. He longed to take that exquisite dick and bury it deep in his mouth, but wasn't sure if Billy was ready for that yet, or whether he even knew about such things. Instead he took it in his hand and felt its warmth and hardness, which was even now throbbing softly under his fingers, just waiting to be used.

Billy sighed and rested his hands on Tom's shoulders. "That's really nice," he whispered, "Really, really nice."

Experimentally, Tom pulled the erection towards him, and to his delight, not to say astonishment, Billy followed through, standing on his toes slightly to push it in the direction of Tom's waiting mouth.

Billy moved closer, as close as he could, as Tom bent his head forwards.

Lips and dick met; a sharp electric shock ripping through them both as they touched for the first time. Billy gasped in awe as his dick disappeared into that wonderful, moist cavern of a mouth, Tom's tongue bathing it as he slowly eased it to the top of his throat. He felt that ecstatic tingle as his cockhead reached the back, gasping both with passion and as yet unfulfilled lust. Unable to help himself, Billy let out a long "Aaaaaaaahh!" as he desperately held on to the back of Tom's head.

Without once letting go, Tom slid down to the floor, taking Billy with him. In something near a frenzy, Billy managed to turn himself round and almost ripped Tom's sweats off in a passionate urgency to reach his dick. And there they were, both naked now, laying on the soft, smooth carpet, completely lost in each other, endeavouring both to give and take as much euphoric delight as they could. Without a moments hesitation, Billy wrapped his lips round Tom's proffered cock, swallowing his pre-cum hungrily. It was if he'd been doing this all his life; his tongue slurping round the end of Tom's cock, anxiously trying to taste every bit of it.

Automatically he sucked harder, allowing more and more of his shaft to fill his mouth until he felt it was as far in as he could get it, even managing to stifle the retching reaction. His hands were massaging Tom's balls, delicate fingers running feather-light all over and around them.

Tom groaned: it'd been far too long since he'd felt like this, so long that he'd forgotten just how fantastic it was. Urgently he sucked and masturbated the young cock filling his existence, desperately wanting his seed to spill into his body, desperately wanting it to go on for ever. His own cock was throbbing with a passion and desire far beyond his control as the juvenile mouth and hands carried him into realms he'd never realised existed, not on this earth at least.

Billy began to thrust himself in and out of Tom with an animal lust. He didn't give a toss who heard his screams of pain and pleasure, or what they would think, just so long as they didn't interfere with this incredible mind-blowing sensation. The more he felt Tom sucking and feeling him, the more he returned the favour, feeling Tom's cock sliding down his throat, marvelling at how awesome it was.

They erupted simultaneously, Billy expecting it and forcing his rampant dick just that little bit more into Tom as he ejaculated furiously, his spunk jetting out in a continuous stream of pure elation. He couldn't even speak, his mouth wide open and his eyes glazed, he shuddered and trembled as he gave the last few drops of his essence to his man. Tom was taken completely by surprise, not only by the rapidity with which Billy had orgasmed, but also his own: he didn't think he was anywhere near cumming. Caught unawares by the unexpected tightening of his balls and the insistent throbbing of his cock, he fired his volley into Billy, more than making up for the dumb-struck Billy with his shout of pure carnal pleasure. Times without number he jerked and jumped as he emptied every last drop his body possessed into his seducer.

They lay together on the floor, unmoving for minutes, collecting their thoughts and breath. Billy turned round and faced Tom, his arm resting on his waist.

"That was good," he whispered. "Better than this morning."

Tom nodded, still in a state of shock with the speed at which things had happened. The boy was amazing: not a shadow of guilt, not a shred of remorse, just pure joy and serenity showing in his face.

Tom felt a cold draught on the floor, making him shiver. He glanced at Billy, whose eyes were closed, a faint smile on his lips, and his dick hard again! He stroked his cheeks and Billy opened his eyes.

"Come on, let's get up," Tom said. "It's uncomfortable down here."

They lay on the sofa together, stretched out full length, Billy's legs entwined with Tom's, their cocks nestled together between them.

Billy lifted his head up, crawled along Tom's body until his face was level with Tom's and kissed him on both cheeks softly. Then he lost it completely, gripping the man's head between his hands, he planted his lips firmly on Tom's and kissed him again, passionately and painfully, his tongue forcing his way into Tom's mouth, urgently seeking out its companion. Tom had no time to react consciously, he automatically wrapped his arms round Billy and hugged him closely, his tongue now dancing with Billy's. For timeless minutes they enjoyed each other, Tom regaining his erection to join Billy's boner rubbing along his navel. His hands wandered all over Billy, fingers playing lightly down his spine, round his waist and over his butt, relishing his silky-smooth, delicate skin. He felt Billy shudder and shake, his hips thrusting into him and a spreading warm wetness oozing between them.

Billy showed no sign of even knowing he'd come again, his kisses continuing unabated.

"You come again?" Tom whispered in the boy's ear.

"Mmmmmm, Yeah, I think so," he mumbled into Tom's mouth.

An hour later, they were still there, somewhat calmer now, but still embracing nakedly on the sofa, watching the end of a long-forgotten film.

"I think you'd better make a move home," Tom reminded Billy. "It's getting late."

Billy sighed and kissed Tom once more, reluctantly realising he was right.

They both dressed and looked at each other, smiling.

"Can I come again?" Billy asked.

Ignoring the obvious answer, Tom replied that he could, but not for a day or two, just in case he was seen coming and going to his house too often. Then an idea crossed his mind. If Billy left through the garden, and went through the back gate, he could come and go unseen by anyone as his garden backed on to a little used footpath. He explained the route to Billy, who grinned happily, and with a quick peck on his cheek, left Tom alone in his lovely house.

Billy went home on a cloud, smiling and humming to himself as he jogged along the road. Life was OK. Even when he got indoors to find his mother semi-conscious on the sofa, he didn't mind. He simply went to bed and slept soundly, dreaming of his man, waking up twice to relieve the pressure on his boner.

Chapter Ten

Tom meanwhile had showered and was himself in bed, thinking of Billy. Giving up any idea of putting an end to their relationship, he was trying to think of ways of making it as safe and secretive as possible. The first and immediate thing he could do was to more or less legitimise the regular visits to his house he was going to make. It wasn't unknown for staff at the school to teach one or two pupils privately, either because they were unusually clever, or needed extra coaching in weak subjects. All he had to do was get his mother's written agreement, and inform the school using the appropriate form. This would mean either Tom visiting Billy's home, which he was reluctant to do, or getting her into school, which may be a problem. He would also make sure he was not around when Billy was changing his uniform in his office, preferably being in the staffroom with other teachers.

Once he'd more or less sorted this little problem out, he turned over, had a slow, ecstatic wank thinking of Billy, and went to sleep.

The following morning, he waited for Billy to arrive, almost as excited as Billy would be. When he arrived, the lad bounced into Tom's office, slammed the door shut and embraced Tom. With a little difficulty, he unravelled himself from the exuberant boy and grinned at him.

"Get undressed and have your shower, idiot!" Tom said, still smiling. "I want to talk to you."

Billy could tell by the tone of voice that he wasn't in any trouble, so he grinned broadly and stripped off, his prick already erect. Remembering just in time to lock the door, he stood in front of Tom and pecked him on the cheek.

Whilst he was under the shower, Tom explained his idea to Billy, who thought it was a brilliant one, the only bad part of it being that they couldn't have any fun in the mornings. Well, Billy thought, at least that's what he says, but we'll see about that.

Once he was dried and dressed in his school clothes, without having any fun, Billy wandered across to where Tom was sat at his desk, pretending to be marking exercise books – there was no way he could concentrate with this boy in the same room as him. Insinuating himself onto his lap, Billy perched himself on Tom's knee and watched as he worked. Tom found it even more distracting, but struggled on, pleased that the boy seemed happy to accept the 'no sex at school' rule. When the time came for him to leave, Billy satisfied himself with a quick, chaste kiss on his cheek and scurried off.

Tom taught Billy for two subjects in school, PE and History. He was apprehensive when he saw Billy sat in his usual place in his History class and studiously avoided meeting his gaze. There was no problem at all though, Billy behaving just as normal. There was no problem in PE either, which was certainly the most difficult time. The only slightly nerve-wracking moment came when Tom was looking at the boys taking their showers. Billy caught his eye, stuck his tongue out very slightly and shook his head as if saying, I know what you're doing and you'd better stop it! They half-smiled at each other knowingly, and Tom retreated to his office. How Billy managed to keep his erection down he didn't know, he couldn't.

Even getting changed to go home, Billy managed to keep his lust under control, but only with difficulty. It'd been a long time since he'd touched Tom and he felt the need, if only to make sure he was still real and still his friend. After he'd changed he sidled up to him and put a tentative arm round his waist and hugged him. Tom smiled at him and left his arms there, only moving away when Billy took his hand and tried to put it onto the boner tenting his trousers out. Whispering a 'no' to him, he suggested that he went to the school office and ask for a form for his mother to sign about his extra lessons. And not to forget to bring it, and his mother, to school tomorrow.

This was a problem, a big problem, Billy thought as he walked home. His mother hadn't ever been to the school, not even on his first day, and he just knew that there was no way she would come just to talk about his extra lessons. He was still pondering over this difficulty when he saw Kim waiting for him on the balcony.

This was just what he needed to take his mind off things, Billy ruminated; it'd been over 12 hours since he'd last cum and he suddenly felt like doing it. He'd've preferred doing it with Tom, but as he wasn't around, Kim was the next best thing.

"Wotcha!" he said as he ran up the last few steps two at a time.

"Hello," said Kim, off-handedly.

Billy was confused. Yesterday Kim was more than keen to go to the house, but today something was different.

"What's up?" Billy asked.

"Nothing." Kim replied, staring at his shoes.

"Ok," Billy replied, not believing him for an instant. "Wanna come and play?"

There was an instant flash of hope in Kim's eyes. After his rebuttal yesterday, he thought that Billy didn't want to do 'it' again, but now he thought he might, just might, want to do it.

"Yes, OK then. Where shall we go?"

"To the house, of course. Unless you don't want to."

"No, that's good," Kim answered, feeling better.

Billy threw his school bag through the door, informed his mother that he was going out to play for a bit, and re-joined Kim.

The chatted idly on the way to the house, both boys getting boners on the way, thinking of things to come. Yet again, to the casual observer the house showed no signs that anyone had been beyond the ground floor – it seemed that whoever else used the house, they weren't interested in anywhere else. But Billy noticed that there were a few more empty Coke tins and cigarette packets scattered around than there were before, and more dangerously, signs of fairly recent cannabis smoking.

Although Billy had never tried the stuff, he was street-wise enough to recognise the remains. He decided that he'd stop coming here after today, it was becoming too risky.

Kim was already sat on the blanket and had found the magazine. He was turning the pages over as Billy joined him, sitting next to him looking at the pictures. It wasn't long before they were both fingering their boners through their trousers, grinning at each other slyly. Billy was looking at the huge dicks and mentally comparing them with the two other adult ones he'd seen recently. They were both quite a bit smaller than the ones in the photographs admittedly, but were somehow nicer.

He didn't see how on earth he could suck on the ones in his book, they were much too big; they must have been specially picked because of their size he assumed. They didn't make him feel the same as before either, these were just pictures. He needed to hold real ones, Tom's out of choice, but Kim's or even his own were better. Thinking of Kim, he glanced at him to see that he already had his flies undone and his lovely brown dick standing out solidly erect and proud. Billy put his fingers round and stroked it, sliding his own zip down at the same time.

Kim dropped the magazine to the floor and lay down. "Want to take 'em off?" he whispered looking at Billy's jeans.

"Yeah, OK. You taking yours down?"

For reply, Kim undid his belt and pushed his trousers and pants down to his ankles, and shucked them off altogether. Billy, surprised at his eagerness and sudden change in attitude from the other evening, did the same. They lay as close together as they could, all but on top of each other, Kim's legs over Billy's. Their cocks mashed together between them, rubbing alongside each other as Kim slowly rocked his body up and down, masturbating himself with Billy's dick.

Kim leaned his head towards Billy, their lips getting closer and closer. Billy knew what was coming next and smiled. Kim, taking this as approval kissed Billy, his lips remaining closed, not knowing any better. Billy liked it and wanted more, he worked his T-shirt up to his neck, exposing his chest as much as he could; reaching up, he undid the buttons on Kim's shirt and put his arms under the thin material, pulling Kim back down onto his chest.

They kissed again, Billy opening his lips a little and putting his tongue out. There was no response from Kim and so he gave up, concentrating on making Kim feel as good as he could without the added pleasure. The lads twisted and turned together enjoying the novel sensation, to Kim anyway, of their naked flesh in close, erotic contact, legs, arms and torsos writhing like two snakes, every second of sensual contact being savoured. It was too much for Kim; in a desperate craving for release from the incredible arousal he'd built up, he grabbed Billy's hand, thrust it onto his leaking dick and seized Billy's engorged boner, masturbating it with a fierce urgency.

Billy managed to slow him down a little, but the fever was infectious and he was frantically working on Kim. For five all too-brief minutes they enjoyed each other's bodies, their need for sexual contact and stimulation as desperate as only adolescent teenage boys in rut can be. They both climaxed together, their joint orgasms being celebrated by unified moans and groans of mutual gratification, their sperm mixing on Billy's stomach, quickly spread all over his front with Kim's impassioned writhing. For once Billy's dick softened instantly; it was tender and felt red-raw after the vicious working over it'd just received from the grinning and apparently as yet unfulfilled Kim.

His dick was still hard; for an instant Billy thought of taking it in his mouth and sucking him dry, but knew he wouldn't like that so enjoyed himself wanking it again, fairly quickly, to another climax, just as delightfully intense, but nowhere near as much cum. This time Kim was well and truly exhausted, laying back with his arms outspread and breathing deeply. Billy looked at his near-naked body and thought how good-looking he was, spread-eagled as he was and kissed him on the lips, managing this time to work his tongue in as far as his teeth before Kim stopped him.

Ten minutes later, they were walking home, Kim as happy as could be, almost skipping along with delight. Billy, only slightly less excited, was trotting alongside him, his mind already on other things.

They parted at Billy's front door with a wave and a joint, "See you later!"

After tea, Billy sat in the living room watching tv and thinking. The sex with Kim this afternoon had been good, but not really satisfying he thought. He'd enjoyed it, not nearly as much as Kim obviously had, but it'd been fun though for both of them and he was sure they'd do it again. There was something missing though, he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but no doubt it would come to him in time.

The other thing on his mind was Tom. He wanted desperately to see him, be with him and have sex with him, but knew he couldn't – he'd been told not to. Tomorrow morning was the best he could manage: it would have to do.

Then there was the extra tuition form. He pulled it from his back pocket, now looking a bit tatty and dog-eared. He had to get Tom and his mother together, but how? And when? And where? It had to be as soon as possible obviously. He didn't want his mother to be seen at school in the state she was normally in, and he certainly didn't want Tom to see how he lived.

His mother seemed alert enough to talk to and during a commercial break in the tv programme, he took a deep breath and broached the subject nervously.

"Mum?" he started, waiting to see how she reacted.

"Yeah?" she replied, eyes still glued to the set.

"I've been told I need to take some extra lessons from school, and Mr Brown has said he'd teach me."

"What the fuck for?" she said, without malice.

"I won't pass my exams without 'em, and I need to."

"OK then, if that's what you want, then fuckin' do it. I don't care."

That was the easy bit. The hard bit came next.

"But you've got to go to school to have a talk and sign a form."

"I ain't goin' to no bleedin' school, for you or anyone else."

Billy sighed. He knew he'd lost the argument; there was no way he'd ask Tom to come here. Apart from his seeing him home, she'd throw a fit if anyone from school came here and probably give Billy a good hiding into the bargain.

"Please, mum, I really want to do them."

Her reply consisted of a series of short, sharp expletives, ending with a 'get yourself outta my fuckin' sight, now!' He knew better than to argue, and took himself off to his room. Stretched out on his bed, he was as close to crying as ever he allowed himself to get. He pummelled his pillow in sheer frustration, angry and upset, feeling helpless. It was early yet, far to early for bed; he decided to go out for a walk to cool down.

Going back to the living room, he simply said, "I'm going out for a walk, I won't be long," and left before she had time to answer.

He wandered round the streets for an hour or so, finding himself eventually across the road from Tom's house. He leaned against a garden wall, staring at the living room window where a thin line of light round the curtains showed Tom was probably relaxing and listening to music or something.

There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to cross the road and ring the front door bell.

But he knew that would probably ruin everything, for ever. Tom would be angry with him for breaking his promise, send him away and never talk to him again. Billy, once again on the edge of tears wandered off aimlessly in the direction of the town centre.

He arrived back at his house an hour later, one solitary idea having come to him. His mother was still where he'd left her, and apart from the opened bottle of scotch by her side, nothing had changed. She looked at him bleary-eyed.

"You OK son?" she said drunkenly, the earlier discussion obviously forgotten about already.

"Yeah, 'spose so," he mumbled and sat down on the hard-backed dining chair more than a little pissed off.

"Can I have a bath?" he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be, hoping that for once she might take enough interest in him to feel just a little bit guilty.

"What d'you want a fuckin' bath for? You ain't goin' anywhere. 'Sides the water ain't turned on."

Despite knowing the reply before he even asked the question, and getting the answer he expected, he was suddenly very, very angry with his mother, with his home, with his life, with every fucking thing. Even Kim had pissed him off today, and it wasn't Kim's fault.

Billy grasped the rail of the chair so tightly his knuckles went white, a red mist descended and he stood up, still holding on to the chair. He stared round the room, eyes flared, wanting to lash out at something, anything. Slowly, he calmed himself down, released his grip on the chair and sat down again, his mind suddenly crystal clear. He was getting out of this place just as soon as he possibly could. It might take a year, it might take ten, but leave this place he would, and never come back. A feeling of cold resolve such as he'd never felt before filled his mind. He had never been so determined about anything in his life, it was as if a new light had dawned. He'd seen how other people lived, people like Kim, like Tom, like a good many others he knew, and he realised for the first time just where on the ladder his so-called family were.

Strangely, he felt better. Now he had a target to aim for, a goal to attain, and all he had to do was reach up for it.

Taking the crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, he carefully spread it out on the table and read it.

Looking coldly at the back of his mother's head, he forged her signature. This was his first step to freedom, and he didn't feel guilty in the slightest. Carefully re-folding it, he placed it inside his History book ready for the morning.

Chapter Eleven

Billy tapped on the office door and went in without waiting for an answer. Tom knew just who it was by the footsteps and turned to greet him. He didn't like to admit it, but he'd missed not seeing him yesterday evening. It was made worse by the fact that he could have done too, all he had to do was ask him. But there was something odd about his manner, something new. Tom knew enough about boys to know that he had something on his mind.

"Oh, no!" he thought, "Please not that. Please!" He waited for Billy to tell him he didn't want to see him again.

Billy handed the crumpled form over to his teacher and sat down on the spare chair. Tom read it, saw it'd been signed and looked at Billy expectantly. He was overjoyed not to hear the news he expected, but didn't dare show it.

"My mother, 3;" Billy started, "My mother's too ill to come to school. And she says you mustn't come to the house. So she signed the form and said it's OK." Billy, the accomplished liar suddenly felt physically sick at having to lie to a man he was beginning to care a lot about.

Tom knew he was lying, and knew why. She'd probably refused point blank even to discuss the matter, and had maybe even hit him for just mentioning it. Billy looked at Tom, his face a mixture of defiance and sadness. Everything depended on the next thirty seconds.

"OK," Tom said, "I'll fill in the rest of the form and give it to the office. You can come round tonight if you want and we'll work out your timetable."

Billy could have shouted for joy, it'd worked! Not giving a toss about the door still being open, he hugged Tom and kissed him on the neck, his face now glowing with delight. Life was infinitely better already.

Tom was as happy as Billy, and showed it as much as he dare by closing, but not locking, the door.

He was still determined to keep his 'no sex in school' rule.

"Going to shower and change then young man?" Tom said, returning to his desk and getting on with some reading.

"OK," Billy said, his voice bright and chirpy.

Two minutes later, Tom heard Billy ask, "Gonna do my hair, sir?"

He swung round and looked at the boy, stood not two feet away, not a stitch of clothing on him and sporting a huge erection.

"Jesus, Billy, the door's not even locked!"

"Sorry!" Billy said, not really giving a damn, and certainly not making a move to lock it. He was too proud, too fond of his man to give a toss.

Tom did it for him, turning the lights off at the same time.

"Billy. Oh, Billy," Tom said as he hugged the lad gently. "You really must try and be more careful."

Billy felt duly chastened and apologised sincerely. "Sorry, but I was so pleased you're gonna help me."

Tom turned the shower on and helped Billy step over the tray before handing him the soap and shampoo. He watched for a few seconds as he soaped himself and washed his feet and legs. Going back to his desk, he'd just say down when he heard, "Hair?" from behind him.

Sighing, he again stood up and walked over to Billy, still with that bloody erection. Gritting his teeth, he asked Billy to turn the water off for a minute, explaining that he didn't want to get his clothes wet.

Billy showed no disappointment at the news that Tom wasn't going to shower with him, he'd half expected it anyway. At least he was going to touch him, to hold him and to wash his hair. That's all he wanted, for the time being anyway.

Tom rubbed the shampoo in and worked up a good lather, enjoying tending to the youngster. He stroked his cheeks and rubbed his neck, watching the suds run down his front, dividing either side of his horizontal cock and running down his legs. The boy was gorgeous, and his for the taking.

Shaking his head, he took a step back and told him to rinse off.

Stepping out of the shower, Billy waited for Tom to dry his hair, which he did from the back, knowing what would happen if he faced him.

"That's nice," Billy said, his voice muffled by the towel. "I like it when you dry my hair."

Tom draped the towel over Billy's shoulder and ruffled his hair. "There you go, it's dry now."

Before he could step away, Billy grabbed Tom's hand and placed it in his dick. Leaning back onto Tom, he whispered hoarsely, "Please? Just for two minutes?"

Tom, stepping forward pressed his erection into Billy's butt and started to jerk Billy off, gently but hurriedly.

It didn't take long, Billy was well aroused, the news about the extra lessons at Tom's house having done its work. Four, five strokes was all it took before Billy shot a magnificent load right across the room, the first wad landing on Tom's desk, the remainder drawing a dotted line across the floor.

Tom jerked convulsively as he ejaculated inside his boxers, pressing his cock between Billy's cheeks. Billy sighed ecstatically, turned round, reached up and kissed Tom quickly on the lips.

"Thanks, Sir!, err, Tom!" he giggled and reached for his new, clean pants.

Tom stared down. Two splodges of cum were glistening on his trousers where Billy's softening dick had caught them when he turned round, there were two butt-shaped damp patches either side of his cock where Billy's still damp butt had rested, and there was a massive wetness spreading from his groin and running down his leg. Billy wasn't the only one who needed a shower.

Later in the day, Tom caught Billy up in the corridor and handed him an envelope .

"Give this to your mother," he said in his official, school-teacher voice. "It's confirming her request for your extra lessons." Then he added, with heavy emphasis, "There's no need for a reply."

Billy fully understood what he meant, he would give her the note when she was pissed and then put it with the rest of her papers where he could find it if ever she denied seeing it.

After he'd had his tea, just as soon as he could, Billy shot round to Tom's house and pressed the bell. Tom answered the door smiled at the young man stood there, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Yes? May I help you?" Tom said, holding the door so Billy couldn't get in.

Billy stood there for a moment, his smile frozen into a grimace, wondering what was happening before he saw the slight smile playing on Tom's face.

"I've come for my lesson, Sir," he said formally.

"In that case you'd better come in."

They went into the dining room, and sat at the big table in the middle of the room. Billy had never seen this room before and wasn't surprised to see it was just as nice as the living room, although obviously not used as much as a thin layer of dust showed.

"Before we start, I think we need to get a few things straight," Tom said.

Billy was a bit disturbed by Tom's manner, but nevertheless sat down and looked at him expectantly. At least he was in his house, and with him which was better than nothing, a whole lot better than nothing.

Tom went on to explain that he was glad they'd arranged these 'extra lessons' and was more than pleased Billy had turned up. But, he went on, Billy must at least bring some books with him just in case anyone wondered why he was coming to his house for lessons without any materials! They also devised a sort of timetable, with Billy having lessons three times a week, for about an hour each: this would be attached to the form they'd put into the office to make it all official. Billy was also given Tom's home 'phone number 'for emergencies'. Having got the ground rules straight, Tom felt happier.

In fact, he'd been talking to one or two of his colleagues about Billy and had had his suspicions confirmed. The general opinion was that Billy was a bright lad who was under-achieving badly.

"That's understandable bearing in mind his background and consequent lack of motivation," his Form Teacher had commented.

If only you knew just how motivated the lad can be, Tom thought wryly.

Tom offered Billy a drink and something to eat as they moved to the more relaxed atmosphere of the living room. Once this had been arranged, they sat on the sofa and relaxed, seated at each end and chatting whilst they ate. Billy was feeling at home already, more at ease than he was in his own home as a rule. He looked at Tom dotingly, like a puppy at its master.

"What?" Tom said, noticing his look.

"Nothing!" Billy said, "It's just that it's nice being here."

Tom opened his arms and invited the boy to join him, smiling gently. "Come here, dopey!" he said tenderly. Billy grinned a wide, happy, grin and scooted along the sofa to join 'his man'. They cuddled up together, Tom stroking Billy's hair and neck as they made themselves comfortable. Billy turned his head round, hugged Tom and kissed him firmly on his cheek.

"What was that for?" Tom enquired.

"Because," Billy replied.

"Because?"

"Because I wanted to," he giggled.

Once again Billy felt a tingly feeling as he nestled into Tom's side, his dick starting to erect. Kicking his shoes off, he curled up and rested his head in Tom's lap, closing his eyes and savouring the masculine aroma of his mans' wonderful body.

Tom flicked on the tv to catch the news, not that he wanted to hear it particularly, it was just that it would provide a bit of background as they lay quietly together. Aware of the sudden noise, he opened his eyes, blinked at the tv and turned over, burying his face in Tom's groin.

It wasn't long before Tom's cock hardened, a fact sensed by Billy who smiled to himself knowingly.

He slid a hand down to his trousers and unfastened them, sliding the zip down at the same time.

Wriggling about, he freed his boner and turned back to Tom's crotch and began to rub his nose up and down the shaft of his cock.

"Can I get it out?" he whispered.

Tom lifted himself up slightly and pushed his trousers and pants down to his knees, allowing Billy free access to his rampant and leaking dick. He sighed happily as Billy held it in his fingers and stared at it lovingly. He was even happier when Billy commenced to lick it, slowly and sensuously, from base to head, covering it in a shining layer of saliva. This was some boy, he mused, some awesome, lovely boy. He slid his hand into Billy's pants and cradled his beautiful dick and balls in his hand, rubbing his thumb around his cockhead.

For fifteen minutes they caressed and fondled each other affectionately before Billy said quietly, "Can we get undressed properly?"

Tom smiled down at the young satyr and nodded. Billy bounced up from the sofa gleefully and in no seconds flat was naked, his astonishingly handsome body hopping from foot to foot impatiently as Tom stripped.

"Draw the curtains," Tom whispered as he dropped his trousers.

Billy stood there for a moment without moving until Tom looked at him, wondering why he hadn't moved.

"It's not very comfortable down here on the floor," he said, the implication being obvious.

Tom had decided not to let Billy see his, or any, of the bedrooms upstairs. He'd heard stories of boys, and girls, who'd been questioned by the authorities about alleged abuse, and one of the things they asked was what the bedroom looked like. If they could describe it, that was the end of the matter. He thought for a second before looking Billy in the eye, making his mind up.

"Let's go upstairs then," he said, knowing he was committing the last, final act.

None of these thoughts crossed Billy's mind however; all he wanted was his man in bed. To him it was a sort of bridge, and once crossed, their friendship would be proved beyond doubt: they would be 'together'. He knew about so-called 'dirty old men' who preyed on young boys in public toilets and swimming pools and so on, they'd been warned about them at school. He always got a hard-on when they were discussed and was even slightly envious of those boys who'd been lucky enough to be picked up, it'd never happened to him except that man in the toilets, and that was his different.

And what he was going to do, and what he had done, with Tom was different. It wasn't 'pervy' or 'dirty', it was good and made them both feel happy. He knew however that most people wouldn't see it that way and if anyone ever found out about it, they would never be able to do it again and would be in very serious trouble. He was determined that no one, but no one, would ever find out about him and 'his man'. He was as determined about this as he was about leaving home.

Tom folded the bedcover back and got in, closely followed by a rampant Billy, who immediately wormed his way to Tom and cuddled him desperately. He pushed Tom onto his back and lay half on top of him, one leg stretched his and their faces inches apart. He leaned down and kissed him passionately all over his face, settling eventually on his mouth, his tongue searching for Tom's frantically, his hands rubbing his chest. Tom was taken completely by surprise, not only by the speed with which Billy pounced on him, but the ferocity of his attack. He hugged Billy even tighter to him and returned the kisses, rolling over onto his side as he did so.

He pushed Billy's head away from him slightly and stared into his eyes, his beautiful, sparkling eyes.

He was going to say something, anything, to slow him down, but couldn't. Tom pulled him back down again and kissed him again, just as passionately.

Their initial lust assuaged a little, Billy lay back and put his arm under Tom's neck, holding him tightly whilst he fought to keep breathing, conscious his heart was racing fit to burst. He wanted to tell Tom how wonderful, how perfectly overjoyed he felt, but just couldn't find the words. Instead he kissed Tom on the cheek and went in search of his cock.

Just about over his shock, Tom took Billy's leaking dick in his hand and started to masturbate him sensitively and delicately.

"Not too fast," Billy said softly, "I want this to go on for ever."

Tom knew exactly how he felt: he too wanted it to go on and on for as long as humanly possible.

Billy was fondling Tom's superb cock, and running his fingers over it when he noticed that clear watery stuff leaking out. Idly he scooped it up on his finger, and to Tom's utter astonishment, licked his finger clean. Billy, hardly aware of what he'd done swallowed it and went in search for more.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Tom asked incredulously.

Billy blushed, realising what he'd done. "Oh, err, I, err, saw it the other day and wondered what it tasted like. It don't – doesn't taste bad. It's not wrong is it?"

"No, not at all," Tom smiled, "I was just surprised to see you do it, that's all." This boy was a bit more experienced than he'd given him credit for, he mused.

"What's it called?" Billy asked, looking up at Tom.

"The proper name is pre-seminal fluid, but most people just call it pre-cum," he said. "It's a sort of oily stuff that lubricates your dick when you have intercourse." He let the boy assume he meant man/woman sex only, choosing not to enlarge on that particular topic.

"I see," Billy replied, storing another piece of vital information in his brain. "And the white stuff that comes out afterwards is called spunk, right?"

Tom grinned and said, "Yes. That's right. The proper word is semen or seminal fluid."

Billy suddenly realised that he could learn a great many things from Tom, apart from History and how to speak and behave properly. He was the only adult he could talk to about these things without being told off for being dirty, and loved him all the more for it. Whilst in the mood he followed his train of thought through.

"And when you put your dick into someone's mouth, it's called a BJ, a blow job, even when all you do is suck?"

Tom laughed and hugged the boy tighter, "Yes, but don't ask me why."

Billy fell silent as he fitted all this new information together, the jigsaw becoming more complete.

"Can I ask you something else?" Billy said, his mind going back to the toilet walls.

"Yes?" Tom said, uncertain where he was going next.

"Do some people put their, err, dicks up other people's bums?", he went on, hoping he wasn't asking a stupid question.

Tom, half-expecting this, took a deep breath before answering. He didn't want to travel this road, but having been asked the question, determined to tell him at least part of the answer.

"Yeah, some people do. Where on Earth did you learn that from?"

"Toilet walls down town," he replied, glad he wasn't that stupid after all.

"I see." Tom answered, not too surprised on reflection. He may have been surprised by Billy's last question, but was taken completely aback by the next one.

"Can I ask you one more thing, and then I'll shut up?" he giggled, returning his attention to Tom's now red-hot cock.

"Yeeeees," Tom replied dubiously.

"Have you ever done it?"

"Christ, Billy!" he stammered, "You don't mess about do you!"

Billy stopped what he was doing and stared up at Tom, afraid he'd make him angry.

"Sorry," he stuttered, on the edge of tears, "I didn't mean to piss you 3; err 3; make you mad."

Tom, over the shock now, squeezed him gently and smiled down at him, realising how upset he was.

"That's OK, you haven't. It's just they way you asked, that's all. That sort of thing you shouldn't ask anyone, it's a bit personal!"

"Oh, yeah I suppose it is," he said, relieved the moment was over. "Forget it then."

They settled down together, Billy grateful that he hadn't upset Tom too much and resolving to think before he opened his mouth again and Tom musing over the few times he'd tried 'having a dick up his bum' as Billy so succinctly put it.

He'd grown up with Michael Todd, who lived next door to him. They were the same age and had done everything together from the time they could walk almost. As a result they knew each other's bodies almost as well as their own, each stage of sexual development being shared and explored secretly and with great pleasure. Regular sleep-overs, camping trips and hours spent hidden away in their tree-house ensured frequent and mutually enjoyable boy-sex. Tom smiled inwardly as he thought of their happy times together, right up until they went their own separate ways as they went to different universities. It must have been when he was 14 or so when, after a particularly satisfying jerk-off session that Michael had suggested that they could try putting their dicks up each other. The first few attempts had been frustratingly good fun, but they didn't really get anywhere until Tom acquired a bottle of baby oil. Having used it a couple of times to lubricate their cocks when wanking, it struck them that it would make getting their dicks inside their bums a lot easier. It did, and at least once a week from then onwards they fucked each other. Even now after all these years, he remembered vividly their first time.

It was during the long summer holidays and they'd been out riding their bikes all day and were recuperating in their tree house, reading some porno mags they'd got from somewhere or other when Michael got an attack of cramp in his thigh. As usual, their shorts had already been removed so they could play with each other as they ogled the pictures. Tom had started to massage the cramp out of Michael's thighs when he spotted the baby oil and used some to ease the pain, rubbing it all over his lower back and thighs. It was when his fingers slipped inside Michael's butt cheeks the idea struck him, and without bothering to warn Michael, oiled his dick and pressed it experimentally against his hole.

Once he'd got over the surprise, Michael suggested he try properly, the erotic sensation of the massage having got him well and truly aroused. Increasing the pressure, Tom found his cock slid in his buddy easily, and he quickly found himself buried to the hilt. The new sensation was fantastic and he slowly started to screw his best friend. Being the first time, he didn't last long, but succeeded in achieving the best cum he'd ever had, and was more than happy to change places with Michael so he could try it. From that point onwards, they screwed each other at least once a week, usually in Michael's bed on their Friday night sleep-overs. For the best part of a year they enjoyed themselves enormously, their sex sessions getting more and more delightful as time went on.

Gradually though, once they'd hit 15, although they remained the best of friends they had sex together less and less until eventually they ceased altogether apart from the occasional jerk-off session when they were feeling especially horny. Tom hadn't had any anal sex since then, and hadn't even thought about it until now.

He turned to look at Billy, nestled against his chest, lazily playing with his dick and balls. Tom hugged him lightly and squeezed his balls. "Alright, tiger?" he said tenderly.

Billy was blissfully content, and murmured softly, "Mmmmmm, This's fun,"

Pulling Billy up to his face, he smiled at him and kissed him softly on the lips. Billy maneuvered himself to lay stretched out on top, his legs between Tom's, their dicks squashed between their navels. Time seemed to stand still for the duo as they lay together, Billy listening to Tom's slow, rhythmic heartbeat in between kissing him and caressing his dick and balls. Tom was simply enjoying the presence of the boy, revelling in his nakedness and warmth as they embraced, feeling his hairless balls and erect prick against his skin.

They would have remained like this all night if Billy hadn't suddenly decided that it was time for some action: it would be nice if he had his dick sucked. Unwrapping himself from Tom, he knelt astride him, grinning wickedly and pointed his cock at Tom's lips, daring him to refuse to offer.

Tom gripped the tumescent cock between his thumb and finger and examined it closely from all angles, watching the pre-cum appearing through the piss slit, then said sorrowfully, "Naah, I don't think so. It's got a leak."

Billy started to lean forwards, panic beginning to set in before realising that Tom was pulling his leg.

"Dickhead!" he mouthed. "Go on, please!"

"Oh, alright then, if you insist."

Tom wrapped his lips round the head of the perfect cock and gripped it just under the purple head, licking and sucking just the tip, occasionally swiping his tongue just beneath the head. Billy jumped at the first touch, a bolt of lightening streaking through his small frame. Concentrating just on the tip of his cock, Tom started to give Billy the blow job of his life. For the first time Tom and Billy felt truly at ease with each other, Billy because he was with someone who cared how he felt and what he was thinking, and Tom because it seemed young Billy was happy to go to bed with him and enjoyed 'messing about'. It was more enjoyable too because if anyone ever found out that Billy was calling on Tom at his home, they had a good excuse in that he was supposed to be studying – studying what is neither here nor there!

Once he'd got over the initial shock of the lightening bolt of erotic stimulation, Billy leant his head back and sighed deeply before pushing his dick into Tom's mouth as far as he could, finally getting his cockhead into Tom's throat. He sat back on his haunches, delirious with the totally overpowering sexual arousal. As he leaned back, he sensed Tom's iron-hard boner pressing against his butt-crack and reached around to hold it. He too was now leaking masses of pre-cum and Billy delighted in wiping it up and down his bum, slowly masturbating him in the process. It was whilst doing this that he accidentally allowed it to touch his butt-hole, and the novel sensation caused him to jump with pleasure. He thought for a second and tried to push it into his hole gently, without success. But, he presumed, if he tried a little harder, 3;

Tom felt what Billy was trying to do and stopped playing with his dick to look up at him.

"No," he whispered. "Not like that." He rolled Billy off his chest and placing an arm underneath him, said, "Do you really want to do that?"

Billy, still ecstatic, but pissed off that Tom had stopped blowing him, simply nodded.

"Ok, then. Get over on your back."

Tom arranged a pillow underneath Billy's back and raised his legs to his shoulders, exposing his beautiful deep pink hole. As Tom manoeuvred Billy into the best position, he thought about what he was just about to do. Apart from the fact that he wasn't very experienced at this, it was also Billy's first time and it scared him a little.

"You sure?" he questioned, half-hoping that Billy might have changed his mind.

"Yeah. I wanna try it, honestly."

"It's gonna hurt some at first, but then it gets better. Tell me if it's too much and I'll stop; we can always try it again later."

In his haste, Tom had forgotten that they would need some sort of lubricant. Frantically he tried to think of anything suitable he had in the house before remembering the tub of lanolin cream he used for his dry skin. Telling Billy not to move for a minute, he hurried to the bathroom, found the cream and dashed back. Billy looked at the pot curiously, but said nothing, after all 'his man' knew what he was doing.

"This'll make it easier to get it in," Tom explained as he smeared the white ointment over his dick and round Billy's waiting hole. Gently he inserted first one, then two fingers into the orifice, ensuring the cream was well spread out.

Billy winced as the fingers forced their way in to him, but sighed with relief as the pain quickly went, to be replaced with a wonderful full feeling, making him shudder with exhilaration. If it was this good with just his fingers, he couldn't wait until Tom's dick replaced them. With a lot of concentration, Billy found he could actually relax his sphincter, which made it a lot better and easier for them both.

Once he was sure Billy was well greased up, he touched his throbbing cockhead against Billy and looked at him.

"Sure?" he asked one more time.

"Yeah. Go on, try it."

Tom pushed, gently at first, but then increasing the pressure as he felt the resistance and the muscle fighting back.

"Try to relax it," Tom whispered.

Billy did so, but still it wouldn't slide in. They were both getting frustrated at the lack of success, but at the fourth try, Tom's cock slipped through the barrier with an almost audible pop. Billy gasped at the sudden sharp pain and grabbed Tom's waist in panic, "Stop!" he gasped.

Tom, taken by as much surprise as Billy had already stopped. He was just going to pull out when he heard Billy say, "Wait. It'll be OK. Just wait a minute."

They froze where they were until the discomfort had eased and the youngster nodded for him to carry on. Very slowly Tom inserted the rest of his tool in one smooth move, only stopping when he could go no further.

"That's it. It's all in. How do you feel?" he asked, feeling sorry for him in an odd sort of way.

"OK. The pain's gone now. It feels good – better than good, it's filling all my inside up. I like it!"

And he did like it. He'd never felt like this before, sort of glowing all over and red-hot at the same time. His solidly hard dick was standing up, still making pre-cum he noticed idly, so everything must be OK. Grasping it gently in his fingers, he alternately squeezed and relaxed his hold grip, increasing his arousal even more. Automatically he started to buck his hips, feeling Tom's cock moving in and out of him.

This is sensational! he thought, fucking sensational! Tom, aware that Billy was now calmer and actually trying to fuck himself, began to move in time with him. All the magical feelings from his youth years ago suddenly surfaced as he stared to make love to his boy, it was as if all the intervening years had melted away and he was back with Michael, doing what they did best. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on giving his boy the maximum of enjoyment, working his dick back and forth sensuously. They were both moaning with happiness as they worked together, Billy almost screaming with euphoria as his prostate was stimulated time and time again, lending an urgent passion to Tom as he speeded up his thrustings, savouring every fantastic second of the feast. Billy masturbated himself fiercely, his hand a blur as he wanked.

With a final, heaven-sent thrust, Tom let out a loud 'Aaaaaaarghh!' as his balls emptied themselves deep down Billy's insides, seemingly gallons of sperm spraying his guts. This was far too much for Billy to cope with, and seconds afterwards shot his jet-propelled juices high in the air, cumming so violently his cock ached with the effort.

Tom was exhausted, and once his cock had softened enough, withdrew from Billy and collapsed alongside him, grinning tiredly at him. "That was fantastic!" he sighed, "Wonderful!"

Billy was over the moon, and far from being tired was feeling extraordinarily full of life, his excitement showing in his ruddy complexion and sparkling eyes. Turning over to face Tom, he kissed him, hard, on the lips. "That was fuck 3;, fantastic, I'd never believe it could have been so, so, well, terrific!" he gasped out. "And it hardly hurt at all! Can we do it again?"

Despite his distinct lack of energy, Tom managed to hug Billy tightly and stroking his hair, answered that there was no way he could do it again, not yet anyway, he wasn't twelve years old any more!

Billy giggled and kissed him again After an hour or so wrapped up in each other's arms, snug under the blanket, it was time for Billy to leave, much to their regret. Scrabbling round for his clothes, he dressed hurriedly and gave Tom one last kiss goodbye, their tongues dancing together.

"I'll miss you," Billy said sorrowfully, "I wish I didn't have to go home just yet."

"Me too," Tom said, "Still, we'll see each other tomorrow at school."

"Yeah, but it isn't the same. I wish 3;" He stopped, not wanting to put into words what he was thinking. With that, Billy ran home, feeling somehow sad and gloriously happy at the same time.

Chapter Twelve

As the days went by, Billy grew more and more comfortable with Tom and they built up a close friendship, not only because they had good sex together, but also oddly enough they actually liked each other and enjoyed being in each other's company. In fact, after two months had flown by, Billy had stopped seeing Kim altogether, apart from the odd occasion when Kim almost demanded they had some sex fun together. It was OK, but wasn't the same as he did with Tom somehow, just a hurried wank or quick jerk-off and that was it. Billy was secretly pleased when he noticed Kim had a new friend from school, a boy he knew slightly from one of his classes. From then on, he hardly ever saw Kim without his friend; whether they did 'it' together or not, Billy didn't care – but he hoped they did.

Tom and he met at his house almost everyday, eventually coming to a sort of unwritten agreement in that Billy actually did school work at least three times a week, if only for half an hour, and as a result he started to use his brain and at Christmas was moved up a class. Tom was even congratulated by the other teachers on the remarkable improvement he'd obtained with Billy, ands was frequently asked how he managed to motivate him so well. He said he'd no idea, just hard work

Billy's home life didn't improve any, in fact it got worse if anything. Slowly his mother realised he was spending less and less time in the house, and more time 'out playing' somewhere or other – not that she cared very much. He stopped going to see his father, much to his relief as he'd always considered the kid an encumbrance anyway, the regular Saturday visit seriously intruding on his so-called social life..

After a lot of thought, Tom offered to pay Billy for doing odd jobs around the house at week-ends, cleaning the car, doing the garden and so on. He liked having the lad around and knew the money would come in useful as well as having a reason to get out of the house for a time. Billy, knowing exactly what would happen if his mother found out he had money, no matter where from, took great care to keep it hidden in his locker at school. The first thing he did when he got paid was to go out and buy Tom a present, only a new pen, but it was given and accepted with a growing love the two were building up. The next thing he wanted to do with his money needed Tom's help – he wanted some new, clean underwear. Tom gladly went out to buy it for him, without Billy, imagining what would happen if anyone saw them together buying underwear

It was after Christmas, and before school re-started for the Spring Term that disaster almost struck One Saturday after Billy had finished weeding the garden, they'd gone out and had a beefburger and Chips as they sometimes did, when walking back home they met Billy's mother and her current man-friend. She seemed to be sober for once and, feeling extremely frightened, Billy had nop choice but to introduce her to Tom.

"You remember mum, he's my teacher from school, helping me with my homework."

With an immense effort she vaguely remembered Billy mentioning it once, and smiled vacantly as she said, "Hello. Thanks for 'elping 'im."

"That's alright," Tom said, every bit as nervous as Billy. "He's doing well."

"That's good, 'cause he's as thick as pigshit and needs all the 'elp he can get!" she replied, laughing, but meaning it at the same time.

"Well, he's not too bad," Tom answered carefully.

There was an awkward silence for a minute or two as the conversation died, both sides feeling they aught to say something but not knowing what.

Tom decided to mention something which he had been thinking about ever since Billy brought it up during one of their conversations in bed one night. "Would you mind if Billy came to my house sometimes at week-ends to help with the garden and so on. I would really appreciate it as there is too much for me to do by myself."

Without a seconds thought, Billy's mother replied that she thought it was a great idea, and did it mean he would be there all day? Sensing immediately that it would suit her admirably if he was, Tom replied that it probably would.

You could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she imagined how much better for her it would be knowing Billy was out of the house for the entire day.

"Yeah, that's OK, it'll keep him out of fu 3; err 3; trouble anyway."

Billy's mother now seemed anxious to get away home with her bored and impatient companion, so they said a quick goodbye and went their own ways, Billy walking away with Tom after telling his mother he wouldn't be home 'till later that night. Uppermost in his mind was that he could now visit with Tom all week-end, officially.

The arrangement worked perfectly, Billy skipping out of the house as soon as he could in the morning, almost beating Tom out of bed most times. His mother became used to Billy being away for the day and soon found her time otherwise occupied and was just as keen as Billy was for him to get away.

One particular Saturday about six weeks after he'd started going round to work with Tom, Billy woke up feeling especially horny for some reason or other and even had an expectant hard-on before leaving home to go and see Tom. Deciding not to do anything about it himself, he rushed to get out and see if Tom would help him take care of it. As he was searching for his clothes, he was thinking how brilliant it would be if he could actually spend the whole week-end with Tom, including the night-time. An idea began to form in his mind. Could he dare? What would she say? What sort of mood is she in? He knew she was hung-over, the empty scotch bottle on the table testified to that. But was she in a bad mood? "Mum?" he started tentatively.

"Yeah?" she answered flatly.

"We're decorating Mr. Brown's kitchen this week-end, and probably won't be finished until tomorrow. Do you think I could stay at his house tonight, 'cause I'd only have to go back early tomorrow and finish off, and I'll be covered in paint and stuff anyway."

Her eyes stared blankly into space as she slowly absorbed what Billy had just said.

"Stay all night?" she queried, he voice flat and monotonous.

"Yeah," Billy answered, completely unable to guess what she was thinking and assuming he'd blown it.

As the light dawned, it struck here that for the first time in years she would be alone in the flat all night, without Billy being here to ruin things for her.

"Yeah, I suppose so," she drawled, "But don't come back here at some god-forsaken hour of the night and expected me to get out of fuckin' bed to let you in, 'cause I won't."

Billy's erection suddenly got harder, and with the greatest difficulty hid his excitement. Ignoring her last comment, he simply said, "Thanks, mum. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Yeah. Whatever," she replied, the conversation already forgotten.

Billy raced to Tom's house in record time with the good news. As Tom opened the front door, he was besieged by a very excited Billy, who hugged him tightly almost before the door was closed.

"Got some brilliant news for you!" Billy gasped out, kissing his man on the cheek.

"What?" Tom laughed, picking the youngster up and spinning him round, pleased to see him in such a good mood so early in the day for a change.

"I'm staying the night! All night. Just me and you!" he laughed.

It took a moment for this to sink in. Then he became serious as he realised what Billy had said to him.

"Staying the night? But how? Why?"

Tom listened as Billy explained his idea about decorating and how his mother had agreed to his staying with Tom for the night. He took some convincing that she'd actually agreed to let Billy stay, but once he thought about it, and against his better judgment in some ways, agreed that Billy could stop. Tom sighed inwardly as he realised that the boy's mother cared even less about his welfare and safety than he thought.

Ten minutes later when they were seated on the sofa, with Billy settled as usual in his lap, Tom said, as gently as he could that he didn't mind Billy stopping the night sometimes, but next time could he please ask first! "After all," he added, "I might've been going out, or be having friends round."

It hadn't occurred to Billy that Tom might have a social life of his own, or even had friends other than himself. He took this new thought on board and apologised as much as he could for being selfish and thoughtless. "Sorry," he mumbled, "I didn't think."

"That's OK, just this once, but please make sure you ask the next time."

Billy grinned, 'the next time' was all he heard, and that was enough. He nestled down on his lap, hugged Tom gently and relaxed – it was going to be a fantastic week-end.

"Can I do something?" Billy asked after a while.

"What?" Tom said, looking lovingly at the boy.

"Can I get dressed up in my best clothes and pretend I live here?" he said, wistfully.

Tom felt desperately sorry for the lad, what he was asking for in a round-about way was what almost every other youngster takes for granted, a warm, caring home and a family, if only for the week-end.

"Yes, of course. I think it's a brilliant idea, I'd like that too."

Together, they went upstairs to the wardrobe where Tom kept a spare set of Billy's 'best clothes', the uniform he'd salvaged from the school lost property, and his new underwear. He was laying them out on the chair when he was brought to a sudden stop.

"Wait!" Billy, said, "I'm not ready yet."

Bemused, Tom watched as Billy rapidly stripped off, kicked his discarded clothes under the bed where they wouldn't be seen, and climbed into bed. Tom, dropping into his unexpected role as his father, left the room for a moment more than willing to play along.

A minute or two later, he tapped on the door and entered his bedroom. Billy was laying in bed eyes closed and pretending to be asleep. Tom went across shook him awake.

"Good morning, Billy!" he said, "Time to get up."

Rubbing his eyes and pretending to yawn, he tumbled out of bed, stark naked, and for once without an erection.

"I gotta have a shower," he said seriously. Tom wrapped a towel round him and led him to the bathroom. Much to his surprise, Billy stopped at the bathroom door and pushed Tom away gently.

"Thanks. I can manage by myself from here."

Now that was unusual, Tom mused, he enjoys showering together; he really is serious about this week-end. Shrugging his shoulders, he went downstairs and prepared a late breakfast for them of bacon sandwiches and tea. Fifteen minutes later, Billy came downstairs, dressed in his white shirt and black trousers, freshly scrubbed and hair combed for once. There was even a slight odour of deodorant, Tom noticed amusedly. Tom took a long look at the new, shining, Billy, feeling a lump grow in his throat. He really is handsome when he is given the chance, Tom thought, a really good-looking young man, someone any normal person would be proud of . How is it humanly possible for anyone to treat him like 3; his somewhat morbid thoughts were interrupted.

"Morning, Dad," the youngster said, looking sideways at Tom to see how he reacted.

"Morning, son," he said. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you." he replied formally, pleased that Tom hadn't taken the piss out of him and was obviously willing that the game continue.

He sat down to eat, acting the part perfectly. Once the meal was finished and the clearing-up out of the way, the pair retired to the living room. Tom sat in his usual easy-chair, Billy sprawled out on the floor watching the Saturday morning cartoons on tv. Despite the two shocks he'd had today so far, Tom was amazingly calm all things considered, in fact he was really starting to enjoy the game.

This isn't a game, he startled himself by thinking, not to Billy anyway. Looking round the room, it was amazing how Billy seemed to fit into it, not only the room in fact, but the whole house, it seemed to come alive whenever he was around.

"I think you should have a new name," Tom said to the youngster laying on his carpet.

Billy turned over, staring at Tom. He hadn't thought of that – he'd always been called 'Billy' and it had never occurred to him to change it. But now it just seemed the right thing to do.

"Yes, I'd like that." He thought deeply for a couple of minutes before saying, "I like Tom, but we can't have two Toms, can we?" he giggled. "Do you have a middle name?"

"Err, yes, I do as a matter of fact."

"Well?"

"It's James."

"Brilliant! I like that!" From now on, I'm James. Not Jimmy or Jim though I don't like those, it's got to be James."

"Fine, James it is then. Welcome home, James."

Billy, now called James, leapt up from the floor and jumped into Tom's lap, wrapping his arms round him. He kissed him on the cheek lightly at first and then more passionately. "Can I call you 'Dad' when we're alone?" he whispered.

"Yes, I'd like that," Tom said, hoping fervently that the lad wouldn't forget and call him dad at the wrong time – that could be a little embarrassing

James remained on Tom's lap for another hour or so, for once actually keeping his hands to himself apart from a hug once in a while, accompanied by a broad grin, thoroughly enjoying himself.

"How would it be if we went out in the car to do some shopping, son?" Tom asked James. "Not here, but in another town where nobody knows us."

"Excellent!" James cried out, "Can we, honestly?"

"Yes, I don't see why not."

An hour later they were wandering down the High Street window-shopping when Tom noticed James had slipped his hand into his and was holding on tightly. They smiled conspiratorially at each other.

"Let's do some shopping!" Tom said brightly. "I think my son needs some new clothes."

James stopped suddenly, open mouthed. "Really?" he gasped.

"Yep. Come on, let's go and explore."

They hit the nearest department store and spent a glorious hour sorting out two sports shirts and two pairs of jeans for him, one set of which he insisted on wearing. James even insisted that Tom bought a matching shirt for himself, which he had to put on as well. The shopping was completed when James, using his own money, bought himself a toothbrush, toothpaste and face cloth, ceremoniously handing them to Tom, thus wordlessly establishing himself firmly as a full member of the household.

From the shop they went and had a meal in a café, both happier than they been for a very long time.

James behaved with perfect decorum all the while they were out, surprising Tom with his ability to act so grown-up and mature for a lad his age and background. Even his language had somehow changed; he'd lost that sort of common street-wise edge to it. He was getting to like the feeling of having a son around already.

Once in the car though, James dropped the facade and broke out in a huge grin, leaning over and giving Tom a big kiss on the lips once he'd checked no one was around to notice.

"Thanks, Tom," he said, "This is my best day ever."

"Mine too," Tom replied, looking at him and smiling. The odd thing was that he meant it.

Once back at the house, they hurried indoors to unwrap and put away James' new clothes and toiletries. Now he really was home.

They kept up the father/son game for the rest of the day and into the evening, having a tv dinner and watching a comedy film together on the sofa. Once the curtains were drawn on the lights turned on, the four walls of the room provided all the world they wanted, and both were well satisfied with their amazing day. What's more, sex hadn't even thought about all day, much less acted upon, despite their proximity to each other.

Not until bed-time that is. It was almost midnight before they switched the tv off and yawned simultaneously. It'd struck them both during the evening that the father/son diversion they'd so much enjoyed had to come to an end at bedtime as there was only one bed. Admittedly, there was another one in the spare room, but that hadn't been used for months and months, and in any case the room hadn't been aired or the bed made. Tom was willing to go along with James, whatever he chose to do, even sleeping on the sofa if James wanted his 'own room'.

James had already decided what he was going to do. Fun though their game had been, it had to stop when they went to bed – together. He didn't know for sure, but guessed that most fathers and sons didn't sleep together as a rule, and most certainly never got up to the sort of things that he fully intended to do with Tom tonight. He had been as randy as hell in the morning, and hadn't even jerked off once today, having other things on his mind. But now the feelings came back with a vengeance and he was more than ready to make up for lost time.

As they turned off the lights and went upstairs, James stopped, turned to face Tom and said with as much meaning as he could, "You can call me Billy now."

Tom just nodded in answer. James had had a wonderful day being a son out with his dad, but now Billy wanted the physical contact and loving from Tom, 'his man', and the only person in the world who gave a toss about him.

One quick wash and brush-up later and they were in bed, cuddled up together with the radio playing softly in the background.

"It's good being James Brown," Billy whispered, "At least during the day it is, but at night I think I'll go back to being Billy. It's more fun." With that he took hold of Tom's penis and squeezed it lovingly. It rose to an instant hard-on, matched by Billy's prompt and satisfying arousal as Tom cupped his cock and balls in his hands and fondled it just as lovingly. Being father and son was fantastic, but did have its disadvantages they both acknowledged to themselves as they kissed deeply, lips and tongues meeting in mutual love.

Knowing that, for the first time, they were going to spend the whole night together they cuddled up together, Billy resting his head on Tom's chest, his hands resting on his shoulders. He loved just laying there listening to his heart, the slow steady beat somehow comforting him. Even just holding each other's dicks was in a way comforting; there was no one else he could do it with, or wanted to for that matter – it was something special between themselves, confirming their closeness. Billy sighed, perfectly at peace with the world.

Tom was in much the same frame of mind; he'd had a strange, exciting day, one which he knew had changed him in a big way. The beautiful boy laying happily in his arms and in his bed was filling a gap in his life he never knew he had. Six months ago he was happy enough doing his job, coming home to a comfortable house and living an easy, but solitary existence. He wasn't precisely sure how Billy had managed to change his life so much, but change it he had, and very much for the better. He now had a reason to get out of bed in the mornings and go to work, looked forward keenly to any time he could spend with Billy, no matter how brief. And what's more, it appeared Billy felt the same. Gently stroking his back, Tom's mind turned to Billy and thought how much he'd changed too. His school work, his appearance and even his attitude to life had improved, he could almost see him standing taller and gaining self-confidence and self-respect every time they met. He devoutly hoped that nothing would ever happen to change things.

Billy sighed and stretched himself, awaking from a short doze. Still bleary-eyed, he lifted his head up to look into Tom's eyes.

"I thought it was a dream," he said sleepily, "I thought it was too good to be true."

Tom looked back into Billy's face and stroked his cheek. "It's not a dream," he replied softly and kissed him on the forehead.

"Good," Billy answered, now fully awake and wanting some fun.

Playfully he stretched out full length, covering Tom's body as much as he could and arranging their slowly hardening cocks so they were side by side. He leaned down and kissed Tom on the lips, softly at first, but quickly devouring his tongue passionately. Tom, sensing the boy's urgency returned the kiss and cuddled him closer, enjoying his warmth, his sensuousness and his passion.

They stayed like this for ages, getting to know each other even better in the privacy of their own bed, discovering those little things which made two people lovers and not simply ships in the night.

Billy, giving Tom one last kiss, grinned at his partner and disappeared under the bedclothes.

Seconds later Tom felt his dick engulfed in Billy's warm, moist mouth, his tongue rapidly getting to work on his throbbing shaft. It was unbelievable how quickly Billy had become adept at sucking Tom's cock, using not only his lips and tongue, but also his feather-light fingers as well. Tom, unable to reach Billy's dick as it was being squeezed between them, stroked his back and head, allowing himself to be totally immersed in the phenomenal sensations emanating from his groin. Dimly he became aware that Billy was gently sliding his dick up and down his chest, masturbating himself in perfect unison with the intense sucking he was giving. Billy was as completely lost in his own world as was Tom, both united in love.

As far as Billy was concerned, what he was doing now with Tom was the ultimate demonstration of the love he felt for him. Tom had taken care of him ever since that first day when he appeared unannounced and unbidden in his office, begging for help. From that moment on, they'd grown together both physically and mentally, finding a friendship he wouldn't have believed possible between a man and a boy. And now he was sort of unofficially his son; they'd been shopping together, eaten together and were now spending the night together. This was a world which until now he'd only seen from afar, dreamed of, never once thinking it would happen to him.

Billy felt Tom's prick swell and his balls contract slightly. He sucked harder and fingered his balls, waiting for his prize, eagerly he swallowed the pre-cum in his mouth, aware his reward was only seconds away. Tom moaned ecstatically, bucked his hips and forced his dick deeply into Billy's throat, and spasmed the biggest load of hot, passionate cum he'd done for years. Without hesitation Billy took the lot, swallowing every last drop eagerly, anxious to get as much of his man inside him as possible, only slowing down when he sensed Tom's dick beginning to wilt. He was completely unaware that he too had shot his bolt, the cum welding the two together in a bond of absolute devotion.

Tom was devastated, hardly able to breath let alone talk or move. He threw his head back, mouth agape gasping for air, unseeing and unfeeling. It wasn't until Billy leaned into him and kissed him tenderly, his breath cummy and warm, that he began to revive, staring glassy-eyed at his exuberant young lover.

Billy, his dick still rock hard, felt wonderful: it was the perfect end to a perfect day. There was only one more thing he wanted, and he would get it first thing in the morning: of that he was certain.

Once again nestled in each other's arms, they kissed and cuddled until, worn out with spent passion, they drifted off to sleep, heads touching and sharing the same dreams.

Chapter Thirteen

Billy awoke just after seven the following morning, the sunlight streaming in through the big windows.

Opening his eyes slowly he discovered he was still curled up with Tom, in more or less the same position as he was when he went to sleep. He smiled to himself, remembering yesterday with immense delight and kissed Tom lightly on the chest, mentally thanking him. Then he had to move, his bladder demanding relief. With infinite care he wriggled out of the warm bed without disturbing Tom, and braving the chilly room scampered to the bathroom, cupping his penis and testicles against the cold air.

Thinking ahead, he also gave his teeth a quick clean with his own brush and toothpaste. He also grabbed the tub of cream they'd used before and carefully placed in under the bed where he could reach for it when the time came.

Just as carefully as he climbed out, Billy got back into bed and curled up against Tom's back. The sudden coolness woke Tom up, and he turned over lazily to see Billy smiling at him.

"Sorry," he said, "I needed to use the toilet in a hurry."

"Mmmmm, that's OK," Tom replied, still only half-awake. His erection also reminded him that perhaps a visit to the bathroom might be a good idea. "Damn you," he grinned, "I didn't need to go until you mentioned it!"

Billy giggled, and watched as Tom rolled out of bed, wrap a dressing gown round himself and disappear towards the toilet.

Tom soon returned and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, one arm under Billy's neck. "What time is it?" he asked, sure it was far too early to be up and around.

"About half-past seven," Billy said, throwing an arm across Tom's chest and hugging him.

"Much too early!" Tom sighed dramatically and turned his back on his bedmate. "Wake me at Christmas!"

Billy sniggered, kissed Tom between the shoulder blades, moulded himself into his back and let his hand snake its way down towards Tom's groin to find his dick. Once found he took it between his fingers and playfully squeezed, waiting for it to harden. His own cock, already hardened by Tom's mere presence, he pushed between Tom's thighs.

Tom, aware of what Billy was doing, was quite content to let him do what he wanted. Apart from anything else, he was enjoying the gentle stimulation Billy was giving him, and the feeling of his cock between his legs was extremely erotic, rubbing against that magical area behind his balls. It wasn't long before they were both dripping pre-cum, Billy helping his by slowly thrusting his hips to and fro, effectively fucking Tom between his legs. The sensation he had was phenomenal, his entire dick was being massaged wonderfully, and unless he stopped soon, he was sure to cum, and Billy didn't want that, not just yet anyway. He had other plans. Mischievously he ran a finger over Tom's delicate cock-head, swiping up his pre-cum and spreading it all over his dick.

"You awake properly yet?" Billy whispered, nibbling Tom's ear.

"Mmmmm. I am now!" Tom said, amazed once more at Billy's skill in arousing him.

"Good. I want to try something," Billy said seriously, kneeling up now and pushing Tom onto his back.

"What?" Tom replied, replacing Billy's hand with his own on his dick and masturbating both his and Billy's boner gently.

"I want to 3; to, you know, do it with you."

Tom, assuming he knew what he meant, was more than willing to oblige the seemingly insatiable boy. He pulled him down and kissed him on the lips, running his fingers down his back and kneading his butt cheeks, slipping a finger into his waiting hole as he did so.

Billy returned the kisses fervently, now fully aroused and looking forward to having his long-for wish granted. Their tongues entwined as they desperately sought to please each other, once more thinking how lucky they were to have each other.

Somewhat anxiously Billy stopped what he was doing, gave Tom a quick peck on the cheeks and aid, "Come on then, unless I do it now, I'm going to cum too soon."

To Tom's astonishment, Billy pressed down on Tom's chest and re-adjusted his position, kneeling between his spread-eagled legs.

"Lift them up for me?" he whispered, putting his hands under Tom's knees. It hit him like a thunderbolt; what Billy meant when he said he 'wanted to do it', was not for Tom to make love to Billy, but the other way round! There was only an instant's pause before Tom, acceding to Billy's wishes did as he was asked, looking forward immensely to it.

Billy, now with the pot of skin cream in his hand, took a big handful and carefully smeared it all round Tom's anal ring and with little difficulty even managed to lubricate the inside slightly as well.

Once his own dick was well and truly covered, he inched up towards Tom and holding his dick between his finger and thumb, touched it against Tom's already spasming muscle. They looked each other in the eye, each seeing an urgent need in the other, and an unspoken signal of love passed between them.

Tom took each of Billy's hands and kissed them gently on the back, their eyes still remaining locked.

Billy inched forward just enough to put a little force behind his dick as he guided it into Tom. He watched as he thrust his hips forward and pushed. Twice he tried without success, his dick somehow managing to bend, despite its apparent rock-solidness. For the third attempt he grasped it firmly in his closed fist and pushed hard, but this time it slipped away completely, causing Billy almost to lose his balance. The was a mouthed, "Fuck it!" from a severely frustrated young man and a look of determination set on his face. Tears were starting to run down his cheeks with his apparent inability to do the one thing in the world he desperately wanted to do: demonstrate his love. Tom felt completely helpless, unable to do any more than he was to assist Billy in achieving his goal.

Once more Billy gritted his teeth, willed his dick to get harder than it'd ever been before and lunged forward viciously, not caring for a moment how much pain it would cause either himself or Tom.

There was a split-seconds hesitation before the resisting muscle gave up and the sheer force suddenly allowed him entry. Both Tom and Billy winced with the agonizingly sharp, sudden pain, which faded away almost as suddenly as it arrived.

"Done it!" Billy gasped, his brow shining with sweat. "I'm in."

Tom knew. His butt was filled with the most awesome feeling: it seemed Billy's five-inch [12 cm] dick had instantly transformed into a yard-long instrument of pleasure, his whole body filled with warmth and lust. Billy gave an enormous sigh and smiled to himself, relieved and inordinately proud of his achievement. He was actually making love to a man, to his own man. It was impossible to describe how he felt just then, he was in heaven, his whole being seemingly centred around his groin and the fantastic way in which Tom was gripping his cock. Slowly he eased it further in, surprised at how easy it was now compared with the monumental effort it'd taken to get as far as this. All pain, all worries and all feelings of frustration evaporated as he slid further and further down, not stopping until he felt his balls touch Tom's body.

Balancing himself carefully, he quickly wiped away the tears from his face and smiled down at Tom as if seeking his congratulations and approval to carry on.

"That's fabulous, really fantastic," Tom said honestly, "You feel bloody marvellous!"

Billy felt immensely proud of himself when he heard this and letting his natural urges take over, began to fuck Tom with slow, easy strokes, his face contorted with delight as he savoured every micro-second of his first real fuck. In and out he slid, every fibre of his body responding to the almost supernatural stimulation he was receiving. Up and down, up and down he moved, eyes closed and all breathing suspended. His dick was throbbing, his balls had pulled up tightly to his groin and he ached, pleasantly ached, all over. Then he felt the tingly feeling start somewhere down by his toes, rapidly working its way up to his dick, making it swell even more if that were possible, and continuing on to his chest and head. Stars bust, angels sang and fireworks burst in his brain as with a final, triumphant drive he ejaculated a geyser of white-hot spunk deep into Tom's bowels. Six or seven times he spasmed, completely out of control, before he slowly came down to Earth, the whole of his young body glistening with perspiration. He'd done it! He'd actually done it! The feeling was unbelievable, he was soaring high in the sky with delight, looking down on a wonderful, sexual, sensual, utterly fantastic world

Easing himself down between Tom's legs and wriggling his way up his body, he gazed at Tom's face, his eyes twinkling with elation. He kissed Tom passionately and exuberantly, trying to pass on some of his euphoria to his lover, trying to let him know just how fucking amazing he felt.

Tom felt the tears dropping onto his face and, pushing Billy away slightly, stared at him, worried that somehow he'd hurt himself. He needn't have been concerned though, his young lover was grinning broadly: the tears were of happiness and joy. He wrapped his arms round him and hugged tightly, kissing him on the eyelids, whispering how much he loved him over and over again.

For another hour they lay together, their combined sweat and spent sperm sticking them firmly to each other, and neither giving a damn. Then, deciding the bed was getting uncomfortably hot, they got up, Tom helping Billy to his feet, smiling gently at him. "Time for a shower," Tom said quietly.

Billy nodded, borrowed Tom's dressing gown and headed for the bathroom, giving Tom a very slight shake of the head as he made to follow him. Apparently it was time for James to appear again.

Downstairs in the kitchen a little later, Tom was standing over the cooker watching the breakfast when he became aware of James standing close behind him, looking over his shoulder. James slid his arms round Tom's waist and held him lightly. Tom turned his head slightly and half-smiled at him.

"You OK?" he said.

"Fine, thanks, dad," James said. "You?"

"Perfect." Tom replied, "Who wouldn't be with a beautiful, handsome son like you?"

"Love you. Lots," he said very softly, and gave Tom a nip on the neck with his teeth before scampering out of the way of any possible retribution.

They ate their breakfast sat on the sofa, James skimming through a pictorial history book of Tom's and Tom just gazing at Billy/James wondrously, acutely conscious that he'd got another erection. He pulled James to him, nestling him against his side and folded his arms round his slim waist. Casually he let his clasped hands drop to James groin to come to rest on his soft dick. Without giving him a glance, James put a hand under Tom's, forming a barrier preventing any contact. Other than that, he made no effort to move. Understanding his action, Tom kissed James on the earlobe and gave him a little squeeze.

"What are we going to do today?" James asked.

Tom replied that Sundays were usually housework days when he did all the washing and ironing and so on. "But today, we'll go out if you like," he finished.

"No. We'll stay in and do it together. We mustn't let the house get into a mess otherwise it'll never stay looking nice." Oddly, neither of them gave Billy's normal living conditions a thought.

Usually Tom found housework a chore and did it only out of necessity, but today it was actually fun with the two of them scurrying round the house dusting, polishing and vacuuming. As James pushed the vacuum cleaner round upstairs, Tom gathered together the last pile of dirty laundry, including the sheets off their bed, and took them down to the laundry room. There was only one major job left, and that was the one he liked least – pressing and ironing his shirts and things; that was usually left until the evening when he often did it whilst watching television. He was folding the shirts up ready when James came in to put away the vacuum cleaner.

"I've finished upstairs," he said, out of breath after fighting with the cleaner, "And I've made the bed as well." This meant that James had had to search through the cupboards for the clean sheets; but Tom didn't mind. Apart from the fact that there wasn't anything to hide, especially from James, he rather admired the youngsters initiative and thanked him. "What about the ironing?" James enquired. "Are we going to do that as well?"

"No, not now. I usually leave that until tonight. Let's have something to eat and drink."

They sat in the kitchen having a sandwich and cup of tea, both satisfied with the mornings' work, but there was something niggling away at James and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Glancing round the kitchen he spotted the pile of clothes waiting to be ironed, and at the bottom of them he could see his school clothes. It hadn't crossed his mind until now that he always had cleaned and pressed clothes to change into at school, and that someone must have arranged it. He looked at Tom questioningly, realising that he was the only one who could have done it, and he'd never said a word.

"Will you show me how to iron my shirts?" James asked. "It's not fair that you always do it for me."

Tom smiled at James and nodded. Half an hour later, James was thoroughly enjoying himself, surrounded by freshly pressed shirts and trousers, wondering idly why his mother never seemed to find time to do this simple, relaxing job.

The remainder of the day was spent lazing about, James and Tom chatting and watching television; the time came however when James had to think about going home – or rather to the other life he led as he was already thinking of it. Reluctantly he dragged himself off upstairs to find his 'home' clothes and put his school things away. Tom had followed him, sorry to see his departure and wishing that the week-end would last longer. James stripped off down to his skin, folding his clothes slowly and carefully before putting them away. After they were stowed away, he scrabbled under the bed for the jeans and T-shirt he'd discarded a life-time ago, throwing them on the bed and staring at them in disgust, hating the idea of having to put them back on. Tom saw the hesitation in Billy's face and completely understood his feelings.

"Never mind, Billy," he said softly embracing him, "It's only until tomorrow morning."

Billy stared up at his man and started to tear up, the warm salt drops running down his cheeks and dripping on to the carpet. "I don't wanna go," he sobbed, the tears falling freely now.

Tom let him cry until he heard Billy sniffle and wipe his face with his hands. They looked at each other, neither one of them able to put their thoughts into words. Tom bent over slightly and pecked Billy on the lips before hugging him tightly and kissing him deeply and passionately. If he wasn't careful, Tom thought, he'd be in the same emotional state as Billy – then he had an idea.

"Come on, son," he said, a lot more cheerfully than he felt, "Let's get you dressed. I've got an idea."

Billy cheered up a little, but was still seriously pissed off with the thought of having to go 'home'.

Picking up the boys underwear, Tom held them out at arms length and ceremoniously dumped them in the waste bin. "Put your other ones on; these are foul." Billy did as he was told, curious as to what Tom had planned for him.

As they walked down the corridor, Billy paused by the spare room, looking longingly at the unused and unmade double bunk beds through the half-open door, imagining how he would fit into it.

Shrugging his shoulders, he dismissed the impossible idea, pulled the door closed and went downstairs. Back in the living room, Tom told Billy to sit down for a minute as there was something he had to do before he dropped him off at home. Going to his desk, he picked up an envelope and wrote Billy's name on it before putting a £20 note inside.

"There you are, your wages for the week-end decorating. May I suggest that on the way home, we stop off at the supermarket and invest your wages in a new pair of trousers and a shirt? That way you won't have any cash for you to 3; err 3; lose, and you'll have some new clothes into the bargain.

Your mother can't complain at that, especially if you give her the receipt and tell her you bought them with your own money."

On principal, Tom disliked the idea of having to buy clothes for a 12-year old boy, he should be given toys and books and things, but under the conditions, he knew they were the best thing he could buy – toys could come later.

Luckily there were very few other shoppers in the 24-hours superstore: Tom would have preferred not to meet anyone either of them knew, but at least he had a plausible excuse for shopping with the lad who'd been working with him all week-end if they did.

They managed to buy his trousers and shirt very cheaply; a lot cheaper than Tom would have liked, but then again he couldn't let him buy anything much more expensive otherwise questions might be asked. It also meant Billy had a few pounds of his own in his pocket.

Feeling a great deal chirpier now, Billy sat back in the car and thanked Tom profusely for the gifts he'd had given to him this week-end. He would have liked to have thanked him more physically, but as they were in a car park, that didn't seem a good idea. He did manage to steal a quick kiss though as they pulled up at the end of the road where Billy lived, just before he said 'goodnight', even managing a weak smile as he did so.

Chapter Fourteen

Billy was late for school the following morning, and Tom was worried. Worried primarily because he assumed they'd been found out and the first visit he would have would be from the Police or the Headmaster and not Billy. Even if that weren't true, there must be a very good reason for his lateness, which almost certainly involved him in some way.

Fifteen minutes later, the door opened to admit Billy, sullen-faced and obviously upset about something.

"What's wrong?" Tom asked, pleased to see him, but still very worried.

Billy closed the door slowly and walked across to Tom, dropping his school bag on the floor.

Without opening his mouth, Billy sat on Tom's knee, wrapped his arms round his neck and started crying; heart-rending, heavy sobs, his body shaking with emotion.

It took Billy fifteen minutes to calm down sufficiently to explain what had happened. Apparently when he got home last night, his mother still had her boy-friend with her and they were both drunk.

He managed to get to his bedroom to hide his new clothes before going back into the living room to say hello, knowing if he didn't he'd be dragged out anyway. The first thing that his mother asked was how much money he'd got, and where it was. Billy, now expecting a fight, went and got the shopping bag with the receipt in and showed it to her. At first she stared at it, disbelievingly, before telling Billy in no uncertain terms what she thought of him and to go to his room and wait there for her.

Billy, after making sure his new clothes were well hidden, got undressed and got into bed, nervously awaiting her arrival. Eventually he heard the front door close as the man left, and shortly after she came in to his bedroom in a blind rage and started to slap Billy until he told her where the few pounds he'd got left were. She grabbed it, stuffed it in her pocket and really lay into her son, screaming abuse at him.

By now, Billy was speaking calmly and coldly, as if relating a series of events which didn't concern him in the slightest.

"What happened this morning, then?" Tom asked, his anger only just being kept under control.

"I put my new clothes on to come to school and she went apeshit again, bollocking me about wasting money on clothes. She hit me again, but I wasn't going to let her ruin my new things, so I hit her back and ran out the house."

Tom was at a total loss as to what to do next, at least with regard to Billy's mother. He could, and would, take care of Billy somehow. "Did she hurt you much?" he asked, still holding on tight to him.

Saying nothing, Billy pulled his shirt out of his trousers to reveal hand-shaped bruises across his kidneys.

"Any more?" Tom asked, his voice now coldly quiet. Billy nodded, "A couple."

"Get undressed, and let me see."

Billy stripped off. His entire upper body was covered in bruises, none of which were too bad in themselves, but the anger and ferocity with which they'd been inflicted were more than self-evident.

"OK, thanks, Billy." Tom said. "Do you want a shower or not today?" He knew that putting anything other than a soothing cream on the bruises would only cause him more pain.

Billy said that he didn't want to shower, but he wouldn't mind some skin cream on his back. While Tom was applying the soothing ointment to the one person he was beginning to care about most in the world, his mind was turning over. It wouldn't do any good reporting her to the authorities, at least not yet. That would only result in Billy being taken into Emergency Care, and things being what they are, returned home after 24-hours after his mother had agreed not to hit him any more. No: it needed something more permanent than that.

Tom explained what they should do. "Listen, Billy. I want to take some photographs of the bruises you've got now, and I want you to write down, in your own words, exactly what happened, and why, including where you got the new clothes from. I'm certain that that won't get us into trouble, after all everyone including you mother knows you've been coming to my house to work. Once we've done that, you must keep a diary of every time she swears at you, hits you, or anything else she does to hurt you. That way, if ever you need to prove what she's done, then you can show them your diary. It'll be a big help."

"But what about us?" Billy said, "I can still come and see you, can't I? It wouldn't be fair if I couldn't."

"Yes, of course. What I'll do is write to your mother and tell her that the school have seen these marks on you, and made a record of them as we're supposed to do by law. I can say that you wouldn't tell us where you got them, but we think you're being bullied – which in a way is true. That way, your mother won't know you've told us, but hopefully she'll be too frightened to do it again."

Billy nodded in agreement and even managed to raise a small smile in gratitude.

"Only one more thing," Tom said, "If ever she does it again, and you feel like running, come to my house, or telephone me straightaway. You've still got the number?"

Billy repeated the number perfectly from memory and promised to do as he'd been told.

They let it go at that for the time being, promising to talk about it later, either after school or at Tom's house that evening. Billy was just leaving to go to class when Tom said, "By the way, have you got PE today?" Tom knew full well he had, after all he taught him. "Well, in that case I must write myself a note excusing you."

He managed a cheeky grin, stuck his tongue out and mouthed, "Dickhead!" to his man, feeling infinitely better than he did when he first walked in the room.

They didn't get chance to talk seriously until Billy got to Tom's house that evening. Not surprisingly, Billy's mother didn't remember too much about last night or this morning, but she knew enough to know that she'd beaten her son, not that she regretted it in the slightest. What she did remember clearly was that he'd hit back this morning for the first time, and it'd hurt. Dimly she realised that he was no longer a small child, he was a big boy now, and growing up quickly – and growing independent. That couldn't come soon enough for her she thought, the sooner he was old enough and big enough to get out of her life, the better for all concerned. Thankfully, the school didn't know it was herself who'd bruised him, the stupid idiots thought he was being bullied, not that he didn't deserve it.

Billy and Tom spent the evening talking about Billy's home life and what, if anything, they could do about it – which in fact wasn't very much unless they involved the authorities, which neither wanted to do unless they absolutely had to. The one thing they agreed on was that Billy could spend as much time as he wanted at Tom's house, with the proviso that Billy should try not to become too much of a frequent visitor that it became obvious he was spending more time there than at home or out playing with his friends. It wouldn't be too difficult though for Billy to spend his week-ends there, as well as the usual three or four hours a week having his extra lessons. The conversation ended on a cheerful note, with Billy asking Tom if he could have the shower he missed this morning.

Together they went up the stairs, Tom stepping into the bedroom first just in case Billy wanted to be left alone for a while.

"Where are you? You coming to do my hair?" Billy shouted from the shower not long after, "Come on, I'm ready."

Smiling broadly, Tom walked quickly to help Billy. As soon as he walked in the room, he knew things were getting back to normal. Billy was standing under the water facing Tom, shampoo in one hand and his boner in the other, grinning evilly. "Come on, get undressed and come in here with me, I'm feeling really dirty!" he smirked playfully.

Seconds later, Tom had Billy in his arms, clinging on to him tightly, letting the hot water soak them both.

"That's better," Billy sighed, "That's tons better."

Gradually their erections rose to meet each other as they caressed and cuddled, driving away the memories of a bad day. Whatever may happen outside Tom's front door, once in the house the two could comfort and console one another just as they wanted – and this was by far the best way. In between cuddles, hugs and gropes, they somehow managed to wash each other, despite getting fits of the giggles every so often.

Turning the water off, Billy stepped out of the shower and handed the enormous bath towel to Tom, intimating that he should dry him. Gladly he did as he was asked, taking care to pat him dry over his still tender bruises. Kneeling down to dry his legs, Tom watched as Billy began to push his hips to and fro, his erection pointing enticingly at Tom's face. He looked up questioningly into the boy's face: the slightest of nods confirmed his thoughts.

Letting the towel fall to the floor, Tom put his hands round Billy's butt cheeks and drew him forwards, opening his mouth. Billy, his hands resting behind Tom's head, sighed contentedly as his cock was engulfed.

"Can we go on the bed?" Billy whispered, his voice trembling with emotion, still thrusting his cock in and out slowly.

Tom led Billy to his room and lay down on top of the bed, waiting for Billy to join him. Billy stood by the side of the bed for a moment, his face glowing with adoration. He would take all the beatings in the world, just so long as he could be with Tom once in a while, doing what they were doing.

Grinning, he leapt onto the bed, twisted himself round and thrust Tom's cock deep into his mouth, sucking on it desperately. Tom gasped in awe as he felt his dick besieged by Billy's tongue and throat with an urgent and intense desire. It was a while before he managed to take Billy's leaking cock into him and lovingly massage it with his tongue, swallowing with delight all the pre-cum he was dripping. The two wriggled and writhed together ecstatically, extracting every ounce of pleasure from one another, showing their relief that what could have been a serious threat to their love-making had been thwarted.

Billy tried as hard as he could to hold off cumming, but the combination of his compelling need and superbly erotic tonguing from Tom had their effect and he felt his balls contract. "I'm cumming, Jesus!" he just managed to yell out as his dick throbbed and spasmed out the seeds of his love.

"Christ!" he gasped as the last throb deposited its load into Tom. Tom's dick, now released from Billy's mouth, shot its gift violently onto Billy's chest and face, covering it with gobs of hot, glistening cum, lovingly given and gladly accepted by a well and truly exhausted boy.

"That was ace!" Billy said once he'd regained his composure, "Really, really good. Thank you!"

Tom giggled at Billy's thanks, amused by his politeness, given the situation they were in.

"Thank you!" Tom replied formally. "You feel alright now?"

"Yeah. Fantastic," his erstwhile son replied, laying back on the bed alongside Tom. "Can we do it again?"

"Jesus!" Tom laughed, "Give me a chance will you? I'm not as young, or as randy, as you!"

Billy sniggered. "Not now, silly. Tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, and 3;"

Tom stopped him with a kiss, "Yes, of course. Whenever you want if it makes you happy."

"It does," Billy said, still smiling. "And another thing," Billy said a little while later, "James has gone. It's much more fun being Billy I've decided, James was no fun."

"Good. I prefer Billy anyway," Tom laughed, pleased that the boy had no more need of his temporary alter ego. "Now, much as I love having you, it's time you went home. You can have too much of a good thing you know." He swatted Billy on his rump and gently pushed him off the bed onto the floor.

Billy pulled a face and leapt back on the bed, laying full length on Tom and pinning his arms over his head. The happy, cheerful grin disappeared as he looked seriously into Tom's eyes and whispered, "I love you." Then kissed him tenderly before leaping back off the bed, saying "At least when you're in a good mood and not being a teacher!" He scampered off to find his clothes before Tom could think of a reply.

Chapter Fifteen

There were no repercussions from the episode with Billy's mother, in fact over the ensuing weeks her attitude towards her son changed subtly, something which didn't go un-noticed by Tom and Billy. She took less of an interest in his comings and goings and as long as he kept out of her way and out of trouble, she was happy. In her sober moments she realised that she'd been extremely lucky to get away with so much in the past: not only the abuse, but also her lack of care in keeping him (and the house) clean and tidy. She wasn't entirely sure how he was doing it, but he was managing to keep himself fairly smart and well dressed. It was assumed that the money he got from helping Mr Brown paid for his clothes and things, which was fine by her.

Billy's 13th birthday came and went, ignored by his mother apart from a cheap card and a £5 note.

Tom bought a computer for him, and installed it in the living room at number 47, much to Billy's delight. Despite Tom's comments ages ago, Billy was spending almost all his time there now when he wasn't at home or our playing with his friends. He had more of his belongings there than he did in his own house and had to all intents and purposes taken over the spare room to keep them in.

As far as Tom was concerned, things couldn't be better. To begin with, he'd kept the school informed of everything he did with Billy which might affect his work, including his taking care of Billy at the week-ends. This was tacitly accepted by the Headmaster and staff who left Tom to manage his own affairs, knowing that Billy was enjoying a far better standard of life than he would otherwise have.

The real change in their lives came during the long summer holidays. Tom had arranged to go away for a couple of weeks, taking a break and visiting friends, but after a week he found he was missing Billy and was worried about him. So much so in fact that he broke short his holiday and returned home, anxious to make sure things were still alright with him.

Billy had spent a miserable seven days, getting under his mother's feet and moping about the house aimlessly. He'd been round to Tom's house at least once a day, and usually more, hoping that he'd come back early, but there was no sign of him. Not until Saturday that is. As he strolled round the corner into the main road, he stopped and stared disbelievingly at Tom's house; there, in the drive was Tom's car! Running frantically down the street, he dashed to the front door, rang the bell and let himself in with the key Tom had given him.

"Tom! Tom! Where are you?" he shouted, running from room to room, searching for him.

"Upstairs in the bedroom," Tom shouted, more than pleased to hear his voice again.

They met at the top of the stairs, embracing each other and grinning all over their faces.

"You're back early! Fantastic!" Billy said, kissing Tom on the cheek, his eyes sparkling with delight.

"Yes, I missed you too much, I had to come back to see you!"

Billy, not really realising just how true this was, grinned even broader and hugged him tightly.

They made their way downstairs to the kitchen, Billy not letting go of Tom's arm for an instant, afraid he might disappear if he let go. Once tea was made, they sat at the kitchen table, Billy still staring doe-eyed at Tom.

"How's things at home?" Tom asked.

"OK. Mum's pissed off with me 'cause I'm home so much, but now you're back I won't be there much."

Tom was relieved to hear this and relaxed in his chair, vowing to himself that he'd never leave Billy alone again if he could avoid it – the sheer exuberance he'd shown just now demonstrated how much they hated being apart.

Billy, now a bit calmer, told Tom that he was going home for a few minutes to tell his mother that Tom was back and he would probably be staying at his house overnight. "But there's no 'probably' about it," Billy said, "I'm definitely staying."

Tom ruffled his hair and told him to hurry up and come back.

Billy's mother was just as pleased as Billy that Tom was back, not only because it meant Billy would be out from under her feet, but also for another, more personal reason. She'd arranged to go away herself for a week with her current boyfriend, but didn't know what to do with Billy. If all else failed she would have to leave him here by himself, asking the neighbours to keep an eye out for him, but now his teacher was back, the problem had been solved. Before Billy could rush back out, she stopped him in her usual manner, "Come 'ere, you, I wanna tell you something."

Billy felt a knot in his stomach as he turned to look at her, one hand on the door knob. He was in half a mind just to ignore her and run, but something told him to wait.

"Yeah?" he said, with an edge of defiance.

"See if you can stay at his house for a bit. Brian and me is going to Blackpool for an 'oliday. It's either there with 'im or 'ere by yourself. It's up to you – you sort it."

He was overjoyed at this news, but didn't dare show it. Instead, he pulled a face and said, sadly, "Can't I come with you? I've not had a holiday for ages." He hoped he knew the answer; the last thing he wanted was a holiday with him and her.

"Piss off. You don't need no 'oliday, I do."

Billy dropped his head and shut the door behind him, affecting an attitude of huge disappointment.

Once out of sight however, he punched the air with an ecstatic whoop of joy and raced back to Tom with the good news.

Tom was more than willing to look after him for as long as she wanted as it turned out, but there was one thing he had to do first. He explained to Billy that of course he was welcome to stay for as long as he liked, but he had to speak to his mother first to confirm it. After all, he went on, you are still only 13 and I aught really to see her face-to-face and talk about it. The last thing Tom wanted to do was see his mother, but felt that under the circumstances he should, if only to confirm it would be OK. Billy was just as nervous, he didn't want Tom to see his house, or his mother either, afraid that once he'd seen the mess he lived in, he wouldn't want to be friends with him anymore. He sighed, but said nothing.

"Let's do it now," Tom said, wanting to get the unpleasant task out of the way.

They took the car, thinking that it would enable them to get away quicker once the bound-to-be awkward meeting was over. The closer they got to his house, the more Billy showed his nervousness. He was dreading it, terrified of what might happen. He was about to tell Tom that he would wait in the car for him, but was forestalled when Tom gripped his hand and told him not to worry, things would be OK. Tom hoped he was right – he was just as nervous as Billy.

Tom stood on the doorstep while Billy went inside to tell his mother that Mr Brown wanted to see her. She went to the front door, wiping her hands on her dress as she did so, wondering what the hell he wanted. Could the kid stay there or not? It was quite simple and didn't need him coming to the house.

"Yes?" she said, carefully holding the door open just enough for her to see him.

"Errr, hello Mrs Kirkpatrick," he started, offering his hand for her to shake, "I'm Tom Brown, Billy's teacher."

"Hello," she replied, ignoring his hand.

"Yes. Well. Err, Billy says that you'd like him to stay with me for a few days while you go away. Is that right?"

Billy's mother, realising that unless she was at least civil to him he might refuse to take him, said that was right and would it be OK? Tom, feeling more confident now said it would be fine, he just wanted to confirm it.

Mrs Kirkpatrick, relieved that there was no problem, smiled for once and thanked him.

"When are you going?" Tom asked.

"Sunday, so he may as well stay with you now," she said with more force than she intended, and added lamely, "If that's alright."

"Sure. I'll wait here if you like while he gets his things together."

The brief conversation ended, much to their joint relief and Mrs Kirkpatrick retreated into the house on the pretext of ensuring he packed everything he needed, which wasn't much.

Five minutes later, they were back in the car, Billy's school bag on the back seat, stuffed with hastily gathered belongings he knew he'd never need.

Back in the house they sat on the sofa, Tom coming to terms with the fact that he'd now got an unexpected, but very welcome, house guest for a week or two. Billy was equally shell-shocked, not believing that he was going to live here for at least a week.

"Right," said Tom eventually, getting to his feet, "Let's get things organised. First, food shopping."

They went to an out-of-town hypermarket and filled an enormous trolley with a vast variety of foods, most of which were probably very unhealthy, but the staple diet of most teenagers. Billy had never seen so much shopping in one go, his mother could get all theirs into one carrier bag – it took them five. Next on the agenda was a quick meal for them both, taken in the nearest MacDonalds – another place Billy had rarely been to. Finally they got back home just as it was getting dark and stacked their supplies in the cupboards.

"Next thing," Tom said after tea, "Is to make your bed up in the spare room."

Billy looked aghast, his jaw dropping open. This was the last thing he expected, he'd assumed that he'd be sleeping with Tom. "Have we go to?" he almost whimpered, "I want to stay with you."

"And what would happen if we had visitors and they saw only one bed made up?" Tom replied.

"What do you think they'd assume?" He let this soak in before adding mischievously, "But no one's saying you've got to use it every night."

There was an instant change in Billy as he realised that Tom, as usual, was right. Breathing a sigh of relief, he dragged Tom upstairs to help him make his bed. They also moved all his clothes, of which he now had quite a lot, into the wardrobe in 'his' room.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Tom said and went into his bedroom "Wait here a minute. Don't move."

He came back with a small china plate which he gave to Billy. "Here," he said, "This's for you. I was going to do that room up for you anyway, you've just arrived here a bit sooner than I thought you would!"

Billy turned the plate over and stared. It was a door plaque with a picture of a car on it, and 'Billy's Room' written on it in gold paint. It was beautiful Billy decided, almost too nice to be stuck on a door, but it did tell everyone that it was his room and nobody else's and that made him feel very proud and special. Carefully he peeled off the backing paper and stuck it in the middle of the door.

"That looks good. Thanks!" he said and gave Tom a hug.

In fact Billy never used his room to sleep in at all that week, he was more than happy to spend the nights with his man, sometimes messing about together and sometimes not. They both enjoyed the sense of freedom it gave them, being able to pleasure each other when they wanted, but not feeling the desperate urgency they usually felt when they were only together for the one night. What was far more important than their sex life though was the fact that they discovered they could live together in the same house and still remain friends, each of them subconsciously adapting to the other.

After a glorious couple of weeks acting as father and son, the time sadly came when Billy's mother eventually returned, despite their wishing she would stay where she was, at least until the end of the summer holidays. In fact she'd been home for a couple of days before Billy, out playing with his mates, had noticed the curtains had been drawn back and the lights were on. He sighed when he saw the signs of life, and chose not to tell Tom she was back – not just yet anyway. That night he was laying in bed, curled up with Tom when he dropped the bombshell.

"She's back," he mumbled into Tom's chest, hating to say the words.

"Oh." said Tom simply, waiting for Billy to say something.

"I suppose I'd better go back tomorrow," he added despondently. "Don't want to though."

"Never mind. You've got to go back sometime I guess. In any case, you can always come back you know, it's not like you're going far away is it?"

"No, suppose not, but I like it better here."

Tom cuddled Billy and stroked him gently, sympathising with how he felt; he would be sorry to lose him, if only for a few hours. There was one sure-fire way to cheer him up, though 3;

Tom reached down between them and found Billy's flaccid dick. He held it in the palm of his hand, feeling it get harder and harder as he pressed on it gently with his thumb. Billy giggled as Tom rubbed a finger lightly over the sensitive head.

"That tickles!" he laughed, wriggling away from Tom, but returning for more instantly, grabbing Tom's soft prick at the same time and squeezing it just hard enough to make Tom wince.

"Pack it up!" Tom smiled, and pulled Billy on top of him, biting him on the nose to divert him.

"It been fantastic living here," Billy said as they cuddled together under the bedcovers, "And I'm not too pissed off about going back home, at least I can come back here whenever I want now." There was a slight pause as Billy thought. "Yeah, it'll be OK."

Tom felt Billy shift his position slightly and press his dick between the top of his legs, making sure Tom's boner was resting up his body. Slowly he commenced to raise and lower his hips sensuously, watching Tom's face lovingly as he pulled back just enough to stimulate his cockhead before sliding back down again, enjoying the feeling of Tom's thighs as they pressed against his swollen dick. This was one of Billy's favourite activities, not only because it gave them both immense erotic satisfaction, but he could look into Tom's eyes, watching as he gradually became more and more aroused by the slight movement of his belly on his cock. He was also in total control, moving faster or slower as he slowly built up towards his own climax. Today, however, Billy was to try something new.

"Turn over for me?" he asked, sensuously.

Tom did just that, holding his cheeks apart whilst Billy smoothed the cream in. Leaning down slightly, Billy pushed his dick against Tom, waiting until his muscle relaxed before guiding it in.

They'd done this so often now that there was no problem gaining entry, and Billy gave a well-satisfied sigh as he allowed himself to sink deeper and deeper, enjoying feeling just as much as he did the first time. He rested for a while once he was fully in, wriggling his hips once in a while to amuse Tom and stimulating his prostrate at the same time. No matter how much he was content just to lie like this, his natural urges soon got the better of him and he started to fuck Tom with an ease and passion that he had become so good at in recent weeks. Almost gracefully he lifted and lowered his hips, raising both their passions simultaneously, moaning and groaning in unison as they satisfied themselves.

Billy kept up his steady rhythm even when he felt his balls contract, and with an immense strength of will, resisted the urge to race full tilt towards his climax. He knew from experience that the longer he could delay his orgasm this way, the better it would eventually be. Unflagging in his effort he ploughed on, now holding his breath in a determined effort to delay his climax even more. Then, finally unable to control himself any longer, he allowed himself to cum, thrusting rapturously deep inside Tom, his sperm exploding out in one continuous stream of boiling hot jism, making him almost faint with the force. He didn't rest there too long though, because there was one more thing he had to do, urgently. Pulling himself out, he instantly took Tom's dick in his mouth, and sucking furiously, swallowed all of his lover's spunk as he ejaculated uncontrollably under the young satyr's ministrations. Billy didn't stop until he was sure he'd drained every last miniscule drop from his man, then collapsed on him, breathing heavily, eyes closed, and deliriously happy.

They dozed for a while, dreaming of each other, and how good life had been to them. In the early hours Billy woke up as Tom slept, taking the opportunity to sit stare at his naked body affectionately, knowing that is was his almost as much as it was Tom's now. Delicately he ran his finger down from Tom's chin, round his nipples, over his belly-button and down to his resting cock, twirling his hairs between his fingers before re-tracing his route back to his face. Tom shivered in his sleep, making a half-hearted attempt to brush away whatever was disturbing him. Billy giggled quietly to himself and ran his fingers equally softly round his lips and eyes, fixing his image in his mind for ever. Tom opened his eyes lazily, pulled Billy down to his chest, kissed him on the head and perfectly content, went back to sleep again.

They stayed in bed until mid-day, neither having the inclination or energy to move. The spell they'd woven together would be broken if either of them stirred too much, and they were far too content to do that. At least they were until nature called. Reluctantly they fell out of bed and staggered to the bathroom to relieve themselves and clean up, preparing to greet the day, even at this late hour.

Chapter Sixteen

Billy began to spend more and more time with Tom, even getting to the stage where he would let himself into the house when Tom was out, and watching tv or tidying up until he returned.

Week-ends had become sacrosanct to them both; from Friday evening until Sunday afternoon they were father and son, doing everything together and sharing the domestic chores. They had their disagreements of course, usually about Billy's schoolwork or behaviour but on the whole things were pretty good. Even his mother had calmed down somewhat, firstly because Billy was so rarely there, and secondly because she now had a regular man in her life who had to all intents and purposes moved in. He and Billy took an instant dislike to each other, the man seeing Billy as some sort of threat to his comfortable relationship, and Billy because he was just as much of a drunk as his mother and father. On more than one occasion they'd come to blows, more often than not about Billy 'being in the fucking way' all the time. Billy didn't give a shit; after all it was his home, not the boyfriends, and in any case he'd always got another, better one to go to whenever things got too bad.

It was after one of these fights when Billy was sat on his bed, hugging his knees to his chest and waiting for his temper to die down when he remembered a promise he'd made to himself over a year ago. Independence. And leaving home. In a blinding flash, he saw the solution. It might take a while, and involve some risk to himself, but it would be worth it at the end of the day. Now fired up with ambition, he dug out the diary he'd started when his mother beat him so long ago. He'd added one or two things since then, mostly when he was pissed off with his mother about something or other, but not really a great deal of what he thought of as abuse; being sworn at and the occasional slap were a normal part of life and weren't worth writing down. Unfortunately no one had told him about emotional abuse, which was a pity, but there was something else he remembered from somewhere or other, something he would investigate with Tom.

The following day he dragged Tom to the school library during the lunch-break to help him check it out. He was right in what he thought, he discovered much to his delight. Once a child was 14, he could move out of his home and live where he liked, provided that the parents agreed and the child was in a safe environment. What was even more important was that the school or social services people needn't to be told unless there was a problem, which in his case there wouldn't be. Tom knew better than to ask what he'd got in mind, he'd be told when Billy was good and ready and not before. In fact, if he'd guessed rightly then he'd rather not know just yet, the boy was old enough and bright enough to know what he was doing. He allowed himself to worry about it though: he was up to something and it most certainly involved him, and after helping Billy wade through the legal bits, had a fair idea what it was.

Billy worked out that he had about three months before his 14th birthday, and in that time he had things to do, things to plan and things to prepare for. The first thing he did was to put his diary and a pen handy; he'd be needing those.

The first opportunity he had came about a week later. He'd got up to go to school as usual and couldn't find the shirt which he'd laid out the night before. Finding another one, his last clean one, he put it on and went through to the living room for breakfast. And there was Brian, the boyfriend, wearing Billy's white shirt. Billy looked at him, feeling his temper rise.

"That's my shirt." he said simply. "Why've you got it on?"

"Because I'm going out somewhere, not that it's got fuck all to do with you," Brian smirked.

"But it's my school shirt, I bought it."

"So?"

Billy calmed himself down, he had to be careful. Waiting for his mother to put an appearance in, he said "Mum, that man's wearing my shirt. Can you ask him for it back, please?"

The reply was short, sharp and simple. "Piss off. He needs it."

Billy stood up, looked Brian straight in the eye and slowly poured the remains of his cup of tea down the front of his shirt.

"You want it, you can have it. I don't think I'd want to wear it again anyway." he said, a great deal more calmly than he felt. Maintaining his poise, he walked slowly to the front door and went out, expecting any second to be attacked from behind.

Although seriously annoyed about the loss of one of his few good shirts, he considered it worthwhile if it pissed those two off as much as he thought it would. He smiled to himself as he ambled to school: the battle had commenced.

Gradually over the next few weeks he raised the stakes. On each and every occasion he felt slighted or aggrieved in some way, he made a scene. When Brian helped himself to Billy's dinner one day there was a fight. When his mother hadn't bothered to do his washing there was a fight, when they were both rolling drunk there was a fight. He even stayed home overnight more than he needed to, just to annoy them. OK, the downside was that he got beaten once in a while, but even that he put to his advantage, ensuring he took photographs of the marks and bruises. Each and every event was carefully logged in his diary.

As he expected, the atmosphere in the house became tense and fraught, everyone walking on eggshells all the time. Both his mother and Brian got short-tempered and less tolerant of Billy, thus inadvertently helping him in his campaign. At the end of term, just before the holidays Billy decided it was time to act. The perfect opportunity arose when he came home from school one day to find Brian asleep on his bed, his mother sleeping on hers, both the worse for drink.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Billy yelled, stirring the man to a dozy wakefulness. "This's my fucking bed!"

Brian turned over and stared at Billy – he was in no mood to be messed about with. He had a splitting headache, felt dizzy and had been thrown out of his own bedroom because he was snoring.

And to cap it all, the runt had turned up.

The boy stood his ground, watching as Brian struggled to his feet, his anger rising by the second.

"Fuck off, I wanna sleep." Brian said, trying to get his brain to work.

"No. This's my room. You piss off out of it."

Brian took a step towards Billy and slapped him across the face. He hardly flinched; he was expecting something like that and was quite ready for it. Standing his ground, he clenched his fists, hit Brian twice as hard as he could in the stomach. Within seconds they were rolling around the bedroom floor fighting and screaming at each other. It didn't take long for Billy's mother to come running into the room to see what was happening, and with some difficulty managed to stop them from killing each other, pushing Billy off and kicking him on the head in the process.

"Get out!" she screamed, "Fucking get out!"

Billy ached and hurt all over and was still angry, but managed to stay in control of himself. He went to the living room and sat down at the table, waiting for them to sort themselves out and join him.

There was a strained silence as they stared at each other, breathing heavily and slowly calming down. Everyone was aware that this was a much more serious situation now than just another fight: things had come to a head and needed to be sorted out.

"I hate it here," Billy started. "I wish I didn't live here, it's fucking awful. I haven't even got my own room anymore because of him." He glared at Brian, hung his head and started to cry.

Billy's mother looked from one to the other, struggling to make her mind up. The boy had become a fucking nuisance over the past few months, complaining about everything and picking fights all the time: why couldn't he just leave her and Brian alone and piss off somewhere out of her life. The more she thought about it, the better she thought it would be for them all. Billy was old enough and big enough to look after himself now, but where could he go? Gradually she realised that there was an answer – that teacher-man he spent so much time with, he could fucking have him, he spent more time there than he did at home anyway so he might just as well bloody well live there.

Billy watched his mother's face: he knew her well enough to know exactly what she was thinking: this is just what he'd been building up to all the past weeks; all he had to do now was sow the right seeds.

"I'm going to Mr Brown's," he said slowly, getting to his feet, making sure they both saw how much pain he was in. "I'll stay there tonight. Fuck you all."

"Fuck off then, and you needn't bother coming back," his mother said flatly.

This was precisely what Billy wanted to hear, had wanted her to say it for months, but now she'd actually said it out loud, he was shocked. His own mother had effectively disowned him in favour of a drunken arsehole. He started to cry, seriously now, all acting and pretence gone. She'd actually told him she didn't want him anymore and it'd hurt him a damn sight more than he thought it would.

Despite all the physical and emotional abuse he'd suffered from her, he felt deep down that she still loved him a little, but now, having heard the words, he was desolate.

Very slowly he got to his feet, staring at her sadly. Just for that moment he thought he would change his mind and stay, but after only a seconds pause he knew things would never change and would only get worse. Pulling his jacket on, he left the house, closing the door quietly behind him, aware that he was burning a big bridge in so doing. He felt in his pocket, checking that his diary was there, that bloody record of his bloody life – he almost hated it for what it was and what it represented Tears were still running down his cheeks when he got to Tom's, and for once he rang the bell and waited for Tom to come and open the door for him, it occurring to him for the first time that perhaps Tom didn't want him living there, couldn't or wouldn't give him a home.

Tom knew before he got to the front door who it was, he'd been expecting Billy round today anyway, but the sight of him through the glass, slumped against the door told him there was something seriously wrong.

He saw straightaway that he'd been crying and there were fresh marks on his face from another fight with Brian or his mother. Putting an arm round him, he took Billy to the living room, sat him down and went to make a cup of tea whilst he thought. He was convinced by now that Billy had been engineering a move into his house, a permanent one and Tom had given it a great deal of thought in recent weeks, ever since that day in the library in fact. He'd done his own research, talking to some social worker friends to confirm Billy's findings: he was right, there would be no serious problem about him coming to live there, but did he really want it? It would mean a major shake-up in his life and create quite a few problems for him, but there was the plus side in that he would be able to give Billy a much better quality life than he'd had up until now, and more than that, he would actually enjoy having Billy around all the time to love and take care of., even ignoring the sexual side of their relationship. He always came down on the side of taking him in should the situation ever arise, but the prospect scared the shit out of him.

They lay together in silence, each with their own thoughts, Billy eventually dropping off into a fitful doze, the events of the past couple of hours taking their toll.

An hour later he woke up, glanced into Tom's face and cuddled up closer to him, resting his head on his chest.

"I've left home," he whispered, not daring to look at him now. "I've been thrown out."

Tom squeezed him gently, but said nothing, letting their closeness say all that was necessary.

"What happened?" he said after a while.

Billy lifted his shirt to show the latest set of marks. "Shit!" Tom whispered. "Again?"

In reply, Billy handed Tom his diary, now almost full. Tom read it carefully, taking in every word and matching them to the horrendous pictures of a bruised and battered youngster. He went coldly angry as he compared the written words with the beautiful, handsome, young man nestled against him. How the hell could anyone, 3; He pushed these thoughts out of his mind, they'd been there too often to be news, and were too distresing to look at anyway. Of one thing he was now convinced – the lad could not and would not be going back there, no matter what.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed Billy upright and put his arm over his shoulder. "Come on," he said, "Let's sort this out."

They spoke together for the best part of an hour, Tom telling Billy that he was more than welcome to come and live with him if things were that bad, but he had to be certain that was what he wanted – he couldn't change his mind once the decision had been made, there was too much at stake. Billy always thought he would be deliriously happy when the offer to live here was made and he was surprised to feel that he wasn't. It was a strange feeling, being offered a new home and he took some time to think about it more seriously than he'd ever done before, but at the end of the day there was no other answer.

"Yes. I'd like to live here with you, if you'll have me." he said quietly.

Tom kissed him on the forehead and hugged him. The decision had been made and he felt somehow relieved. At least they knew where they stood now, for better or for worse.

Half an hour later, they were knocking once more on Mrs Kirkpatrick's door. It was opened by Brian who let them both in without saying a word, leading the way to the living room.

They all sat round the table looking at each other until Tom said, "I understand there's been a problem with Billy."

"Yeah, he's got impossible to live with, he's a 3;" Billy's mother stopped, re-phrasing what she was about to add, and said, "we just don't get on together."

Tom ignored the 'we' bit, not wanting to know whether it included Brian or not – he assumed it did.

"Yes, I'd heard about that. Have you seen this?" He made a show of drawing the diary from his pocket and put it on the table, spreading the pictures out for all to see. Billy's mother gasped in astonishment at the evidence before her and turned bright red. Brian picked one of the photographs up, looked sideways at Billy and said, "Bastard!" just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Yes, well. That doesn't help things does it?" he said menacingly at Brian. "Perhaps that's part of the problem."

Once more there was a very strained silence, everyone realising that they were now completely in Tom's hands, and he was a very powerful and angry man.

"How anyone could treat a child this way is beyond me," he said waving his hands over the pictures and their squalid surroundings.

There was another long pause.

"Well. As there doesn't seem to be anywhere else Billy can go, I guess he can come and stay with me." Tom said, "But it's a pity it had to come to this," he added, looking between the three of them.

He let his comment sink in before continuing, "If that's what you and Billy want, then I agree." He pointedly stared at Brian, daring him to say anything.

"All I need is written confirmation from you that you are allowing Billy to come and stay with me, that you know where he is, and that Billy agrees."

She nodded, still staring in disbelief at the pictures.

"And I'll keep these in a safe place." Tom said, sweeping them up and replacing them in his pocket.

Billy produced some paper and a pen and watched as Tom wrote the letter out, twice. Mrs Kirkpatrick, Tom and Billy signed both copies, and Tom carefully put his copy with the diary.

Everyone stood up, glad the unpleasantness was over and just wanting to go their own ways as soon as possible. Tom followed Billy to the door, and just as they were about to leave turned to Billy's mother and said, "Do you even know where I live?"

She shook her head, a beaten and cowed woman.

"No, I didn't think so. Says a lot, don't you think?" He wrote the address and telephone number down on the letter and left, pushing Billy in front of him.

Once back in the car, Tom grasped the steering wheel with both hands, stared out at the road in front of him and heaved an enormous sigh of relief.

"Glad that's over. That was awful," he said to himself as much as to Billy.

"Yeah." was all Billy could manage, still in a state of shock with the speed and seeming ease he'd left one home and moved into another.

Back at the house they stood in the kitchen leaning on the work-tops as they had a much-needed cup of tea and came to terms with their new relationship.

"Come on, we need cheering up," Tom said at last, "Let's go out."

For the remainder of the day they just drove around, mostly in silence, looking at the scenery, trying to forget the unpleasantness of the morning and simply enjoying each other's company.

When they eventually returned home, there was a black rubbish bag on the doorstep, which, when opened revealed the residue of Billy's things from home: old clothes, school things and a miscellany of odds and ends from his bedroom, the whole of his young life in a rubbish bag. They didn't waste much time Tom thought, but wisely kept quiet.

Billy emptied the sack on the living room floor, staring at the mess with Tom. Putting his school things and few personal odds and ends in one pile, he stuffed his old clothes back in the bag. Then he went upstairs, changed into his 'best clothes', put the one's he'd just taken off with the remainder of his old 'home' clothes from the wardrobe and jammed them in the bag with the rest.

Giving Tom a defiant stare, he picked up a lighter from the kitchen, went through the patio windows into the garden, dropped the bag in the barbeque pit and set fire to it Tom, watching all this silently, joined Billy outside and stared at the flames consuming Billy's past.

"Fuck it!" he said to the world in general, swearing for the last time in Tom's presence as the flames died down. "That's it! All I want now is a shower."

They slept together that night, a sounder and more restful sleep than they'd ever had together. Sex wasn't on the agenda, just the comfort and company of a father and son naked in bed together, bonding as only they could.

Tom informed his Headmaster of the new situation just as soon as school re-started after the holidays, informing him of Billy's change of address and guardianship at the same time. Much to Tom's surprise, the Head accepted the change almost without comment, saying only that he was glad that Billy had managed to find a better home than the one he had, and perhaps now would settle down and be encouraged to use the brains he undoubtedly had.

There was a good deal of talk among the boys of course, but Billy sweated it through without problem. Thankfully, no one even suspected that their relationship was anything other than the platonic one of father and son, indeed some boys were even jealous of Billy's sudden improvement in lifestyle.

The only person who showed any real interest in Billy fortunes was Kim, who still remained one of his best friends, he even came to his new home once in a while to play with him and generally hang out.

Billy though, kept him at arms length in some ways. Although they were the best of buddies, Billy was aware that Kim had earned a certain reputation at school, one which wasn't doing him any good at all. Ever since their own sexual exploits had dwindled down to zero, Billy had noticed Kim was getting involved with a few other boys with similar reputations and was obviously 'having fun' with them whenever and wherever he could, causing more than a few obscene comments. The dragon which Billy had aroused in Kim was not going to lay down easily.

Tom mentioned Kim's behaviour to Billy one day, not to criticise in any way, just to make sure that Billy knew. Billy told him about their earlier experiments together, and also a bit about Kim's puritanical parents. He also went on to say that he felt sorry for Kim in some ways: Billy and Tom had each other to love and have fun with, Kim had no one.

The last chapter in Billy's old life ended when he discovered through neighbours that his mother and Brian had left the house and moved out of the area, no one knew where. For Billy it meant his old life was well and truly finished, and for Tom it meant he had the most handsome and sexiest young man in the world for a son. Life couldn't be better.

The End