In those years, I had a walk-up apartment apartment on the first level. I had moved there after I split with my collaborator of 12 geezerhood and I was in no mood for another kinship right now ; I was quite content to live alone. The flat above me was occupied by a couple with two kids ; the girl was about 12 or 13 but it was the lad I was interested in - he was in his tardy teens, fairly short circuit and lightly built, with dandy hair and a complexion unusually clear and smooth for a young man of his age. His name, I had established a spell back, was David and he was gorgeous.

I was on good footing with his Mum & Dad and they had obviously considered me"decent kind ”, as they had invited me to dinner with the family upstairs not long after I moved in, a rather uncommon act of good-neighbourliness on their region these days, I thought at the metre. We often used to go past in the car park or on the stairs and top the time of day but because of David's age, I always took care to keep off situations that might put us alone together, although he had once or twice loitered with me on the landing, as if he hoped I would ask him in. He seemed to wish me and he was a Nice, well-behaved and studious crevice but apart from adoring his cute cheek and his young trim back physical structure, I was old enough to be his beginner and I felt a bit pitiful for him because his female parent did seem to constantly overprotect over him while his dad was, in my vox populi, excessively rigorous and rather illiberal. Goodness knows what they thought of me ! I didn't exactly tell them I was gay and I'm not generally considered"camp"in appearance or behaviour but anyone with reasonable might of entailment should have been able to work it out from some of the things I said in my conversations with them. Whatever, it didn't seem to alter our essentially amiable co-existence in the same building.

One night, I was watching TV on my own, as usual. It was gone midnight when the buzzer rang and as I went to the door, I could get a line giggling and scuffling going on outside. When I looked through the peep-hole, I saw two young guys, somewhat dishevelled and a bit the worse for alcohol by the look of things. However, they had between them, supported in their blazon, a distinctly bedraggled and flushed Saint David. I opened the door.

Before I had a chance to say anything, the two guy rope straightened-up and attempted to seem very serious, while one of them simply said,

"Um…sorry Mr. Edward VI, but we believe this belongs to you."And proceeded to try to go by Jacques Louis David to me through the doorway.

Now, my surname isn't Edward I, but David's is, so I realised at once that they thought I was his forefather and that this was Saint David's apartment. But before I was able to set them and protest, they turned on their cad and disappeared down the stairs. Meanwhile, Jacques Louis David had slumped at my feet in a heap !

Then I remembered. He had been getting uptight about doing so many exams at school day recently and had said the other day that the last one was this workweek and that it was also his birthday this week-end. That's what this was ; it was his 18th natal day and he had got drunk celebrating the end of exams with his mates. Heaven knows where he got the booze but as the effectual drinking age in the UK is 18, I figured that technically it was above board. And besides, Young guy can be highly resourceful when they set their mind to it !

What was I to do ? There he was, propped against my doorframe, dressed in svelte Shirley Temple Black trousers and a white shirt, sleeves fashionably half-rolled up and his leash and top buttons undone, revealing a hairless chest. But his skin was all blotchy and his hair, which was usually neat and gelled, was all tousled and squashed. He was, frankly, a mess and he was drooling down himself and mumbling. I knelt down to listen and all he kept gumming was,

"Dad'll kill me. Just let me go down with you. He'll kill me if he sees me like this."

I realised that, while he was obviously drink in, he had been sufficiently cognizant to evidence his mates to deliver him to the haywire apartment on intention. Knowing how lots of a disciplinarian his father was, I figured the lad needed a break of serve, so I decided to drag him inside and let him kip it off.

I struggled as best I could, lifting him to his invertebrate foot and staggering inside, bumping into things and trying not to relieve oneself a noise, while he cut an almost screaming figure as the classic drunk, weaving all over the spot, dribbling and muttering all the meter. This was the first prison term I had laid workforce on him and I was already aroused by the warmth of his body, albeit sweaty and smelling of booze ! I slung his arm over my neck opening to indorse him and I secured it by holding his hand on that side, while my other arm was firmly around his waist. My gist meanwhile, was going 19 to the 12 !

We staggered down the hallway, with him muttering some variety of apology. He just kept saying,"Sorry - I'm so sorry."Then, quite suddenly, he groaned and uttered those disastrous words,

"I'm going to be sick !"

And before I could do anything, he clasped his paw to his mouth and began to vomit. As fast as I could, I pushed him into the privy, where we both fell on the floor in front of the lavatory. In that flash, he retched and threw-up into the john ; well, all over it actually ! God, what a mess ! And the smelling was enough to cook me want to vomit too ! But I managed to maintain hold of him, kneeling upright in strawman of the gutter, with his head half down the pan, retching his whole insides up and moaning in-between.
Most of us have been in that situation at one meter or another in our lifespan and I knew only too well how the poor guy must be feeling right now, as he heaved and retched with all the Energy his body could summon, evacuating from his insides, every bite of food and every free fall of fluid he had consumed in the last 4-5 hours.

After he had more-or-less emptied his inside into my toilet pan, or over it, I flushed it and held him there for a second or two, my arm still around his endearing shank and my other hired hand now stroking his tomentum and aching head to comfort him. He was nearly falling asleep now, he was so exhausted from all the retching, so I cleaned his fount with gutter tissue, washed his hands and made him flub his nose - just like a little boy. God, it gave me hard-on something rotten !

I made the determination to flop him on the bed rather than on the couch in the living elbow room. I only had one bedroom but I figured he might be comfortable to handle that way and he would be nearer the lavatory, just in compositor's case. Mind you, I'm sure my subconscious mind desire for him shape my choice at the time ! I had just about managed to get him back to his feet but I virtually had to carry him next door to the sleeping room, he was so exhausted and limp. As we got to the bed, I brought his arm up over my head and he fell forwards, flat onto the bed, with his legs half-on and half-off the bed. He groaned and lay there, muttering,

"Oh God, I'm sorry. I feel terrible."

"Yes, well, I'm not surprised."I said, as I looked at him and tried to adjudicate what to do next.

I needed to cleanse up in the john, so I grabbed a towel and put it under his dribbling face and put a bowling ball beside the bed, while I went off to tidy up the mess. When I came back into the bedroom with a ice of water system for him to salute, he must have shuffled forwards on the top of the bed, because his legs were no longer sticking out over the edge, as I had left him. He was still laying face down, head to one position and rima oris open, but now he was snoring gently. The top section of me melted at the pot of him there, while the bit near the centre part of me immediately went rock-hard again ! There was something extremely arousing about having a gorgeous young guy, entirely alone, passed out and helpless in front of me.

But then there was the spirit ; that clinging, penetrating odour of dusty vomit and I realized that, somehow, I was going to have to houseclean him up before sending him home.

"wellspring,"I sighed to myself,"somebody has to do this,"and I proceeded to choose his shoes and sock off !

His bare foot were soft and unmarred and his toes were like those of a boy, all beautifully formed and hardly walked-on - unlike my much older, rather worn specimens !

I rolled him over onto his back and confirmed what I expected ; his shirt and trousers were stained with wan and dribble. If I was to help him escape the anger of his Church Father, I was going to have to launder them and I wondered if his trouser were washable -"too bad ”, I thought, they'll have to be !

I climbed onto the bed and knelt side by side him while I unbuttoned his shirt. Then I sat him up.
"Come-on,"I said,"I've got to get this shirt off and in the race,"

With no help at all from Jacques Louis David, I managed to get his shirt off. He was half-awake again now, propped-up against me, so I made him imbibe the spyglass of weewee I had brought back from the bathroom before I let him flop back down again, bare-chested now. His nipples were soft and delicate and there was a footling"treasure-trail"of wispy, blond hairs leading down from his belly-button to the waistline of his trousers.

I unbuckled his belt, pulled it gratuitous and then untie his top push button, trying not to see too closely. He murmured something I didn't catch.

Getting off the bed now, I positioned myself at the end of the bed and grabbed the legs of his trousers and pulled. Not a lot happened.

"spring me some help here,"I chastised him,"I need to get these trouser in the wash too."

I didn't expect a respose and I didn't get one. He seemed to have passed out again. Then I realised that I hadn't undone his flies, so I climbed back onto the bed again and as my handwriting approached his rainfly, I hesitated. He had such a beautifully formed genitals, clasped in the black fabric of his pant, with just the top clitoris undone, revealing the Edward D. White waist-band of his underpants. My hands were shaking and my nub was racing as I grasped the spit of his zip and, as I slid it all the way down, I felt it following the rounded figure of the bulge in his underpants.

Climbing back off the bed, I returned to grabbing the ramification of his trousers. I pulled again and this time, his trousers came off more easily. Now he was laying there, naked but for his underpants - mostly black but with a white waist-band and pipe which accentuated the pattern of his prominence. Rather smart, I thought. And rather full too, I puzzled. If nix else, he surely must have a semi in those underpants to be so….

"I suppose you're going to postulate vantage of me now, aren't you,"I suddenly heard him murmur.

Shaken from my revery and realizing he was awake again, I replied,

"I might - if you don't behave yourself."

He was drowsy and seemed only half streetwise but he muttered in response,

"Don't let me stop you."And then he added,"You know you want to."

If there was any dubiousness in my mind as to the reasonableness he was in my apartment, that comment assured me he knew what was likely to take place. He probably wanted it to but was too shy to organise it without being rummy ! How many other young men, doubtful as to their sexuality, have done the same ?

His organic structure was simply beautiful to behold. I couldn't believe my luck. I had a gorgeous 18 year-old virtually naked on my bed and evidently in no humour to put up a struggle ! Nevertheless, practicalities still ruled my head. I had the shirt and trousers to deal with, so I took them through to the kitchen and examined the labels in his trousers ; size 28 waist, 30 inside leg,"easicrease ”, automobile race 40 grade - Good ! I went through his sack and removed his wallet, phone and Francis Scott Key and then slung the trouser in the washing machine and set it going. The white shirt would have to be done separately, so I filled the sump with hot water and Georgia home boy powder, and left it to soak.

I returned to the bedchamber and found him still lying on his vertebral column in his stylish calamitous underpants ( the one with the white waist-band and pipage ! ), now fast asleep with his mouth open. I just stood there admiring his beauty and grappling with my scruples. Could I really take advantage of him ? Indeed, would I be, or isn't that what he wanted ?

I know you'll all imagine me a hound but I couldn't resist. I gently climbed onto the bed beside him and looked at the gibbosity in his underpants. I gently stroked it. It was surprisingly firm. Surely, even an 18 year-old doesn't get a hard-on while drunk and asleep - does he ? I clasped his protuberance in one hand and gently squeezed. His organ was bunched tightly over the battlefront of his glob but it was definitely at to the lowest degree partially engorged. As I did this, I heard him stir slightly, breathing-in heavily and then out again, accompanied by a hanker groan. Then silence.

Spreading his pegleg a lilliputian, I moved over in-between them and leant forward to put my face next to his bulge. I inhaled his most intimate aroma ; a musky sweatiness, mingled with talcum powder pulverisation and just a hint of pee ! My aspect was pressing against the soft bod of his groin and I was in promised land. Then I noticed the wet patch. It wasn't a pee-stain ; it was actually wet - and sticky. And it coincided precisely with the engorged principal of his penis, up to now still hidden from me by his underpants. Not for long, I decided
.
I took storage area of the waist-band of his underpants on either side of him and gently lowered them at the forepart, over his bulging member, until it neatly flipped upwards in a nice full-strength line across his tummy towards his belly-button. He stirred again in his rest and shifted slightly on his buttocks, enabling me to free his pants a bit from under his bum. But I decided not to move out them completely, as I intended to return him his dignity in a little while.

I gently lifted his member forwards ; if it had been semi-engorged before, it was getting fully hard now. He was not particularly well-endowed, just average, but it was perfect in every beautifully untrimmed proportion ! His orchis were covered in tiny wan embrown hairsbreadth and he had a tasteful little shrub of hair below his potbelly. His ball-sack, though, was plastered and rounded, his balls clutched together, hard against the base of his pecker. He was highly aroused, that's for sure, and I began to inquire if he was only pretending to be asleep. No issue, I thought. It served my fantasy that he was asleep, and if that was his way of letting me do this, it was fine by me !

As I held his penis in my custody, I gently pulled the foreskin down to expose its pinko bulging tip. I spotted a flyspeck drop of pre-cum at the afford slit and, as I squeezed his tool, I heard him sigh and moan as a big blob of juice oozed from the end and ran into my fingerbreadth. I slowly moistened the end of his tool with his own succus and I heard him moaning again. I looked up at his face but it seemed inactive and emotionless, and his oculus were still closed.

I leaned forward and placed my lip around the slippery and delicious head of his electronic organ. My tongue had just begun to taste him and I was about to bask the succeeding part of my geographic expedition when I realised that he was shaking all over. I pulled back to see that the wholly top of his chest and cervix were flushed and before I knew what was happening, I heard him let out a kind of a plaintive cry and with a moan, he exploded up across his belly and his chest. The first-class honours degree jet snapshot right up beyond his nipple, then the second into the midsection of his chest and the 3rd across his belly, as my hand felt his cum coursing up through his tool - 4, 5, 6, time he pumped, gobs of creamy cum now running down his tool into his bush of pubic hair.

He writhed about in a variety of torture and go, seemingly unaware in his alcohol-induced stupor. His head flipped violently back and Forth River from side to side, as his face flushed and he gasped in his rest. And then he lay still, his insides now completely drained of all fluids. God, he was going to sustain one hell of a holdover tomorrow !

I cleaned him up with tissue paper as best I could for the second time, pulling his underpants back up under his bum and gently replacing his now softening organ into their somewhat damp and sweaty front sack. I sat there for minutes, just drinking-in his beautiful, innocent form and what had just happened. As I sat there, he stirred in his eternal sleep, groaned and then rolled over onto his forepart. Now, clad in those black underpants ( the ones with the white waistband and pipage ! ) the beautifully rounded shape of his bum was laying beside me.

The temptation to do more to him was tremendous but I was already feeling a bit hangdog for what I had already done, although I kept telling myself, he had offered himself to me quite freely. I leaned over and put my nose between his lovely ass-cheeks and inhaled the musky sweatiness of a unseasoned man.

Then, sighing to myself in resignation, I softly kissed his ass cheeks in act and gently folded one side of the duvet over him and left him sleeping, while I went back to the kitchen to finish the washing and ironing ! Well, there was no way I was going to be getting much sleep tonight after that !

Next morning, I awoke from a doze on my sofa at about 6am and immediately went to front in on unseasoned David. He had obviously been writhing about in the Nox, because the duvet was all over the place and he was now in the foetal office, only partly covered and one-half hanging off the edge of the bed. I roused him with two paracetamol and another glass of water and he blearily came too, looking at me and then around the room.
"Where am I ?"he asked, as he emerged from the corpse of the eiderdown and sat up.

"You're in my bedroom and you're on my bed,"I replied,"and you need to get up and go home. You were somewhat the worse for your celebrating last Nox and I had to lap your shirt and pant. They're in the bathroom."

As I sat side by side to him, the concoction of odor that arose from beneath the duvet, reminded me of alcohol, cold vomit and slightly break cum. He just looked at me. He was so sweet and innocent ; he seemed quite unaware of what had happened last night and he just kept saying"Thank you"and"I'm really sorry ”.

When he came out of the lavatory, having had a shower bath and got dressed, I thought, to myself,

"I wonder, if he wonders, why there are cum-stains inside his underpants."And I briefly began thinking about them, and what lay inside them, underneath the freshly pressed black trousers he was again wearing.

"Please, please don't say anything to my parents,"he pleaded, as I let him out the front door.

"Of row I won't say anything. tone, I know how stressed you've been lately, what with your exam and your Dad ‘ n all, but if you ever want to just talk anytime, you know where to find me."
He smiled, looked directly into my center ( that always does it ! ) and said,

"Thanks, I will."

And he did too - quite a number of times in the months that followed !