Just to remind you - Jacques Louis David was 19 and he lived with his jr. sis, a smothering mother and a rather authoritarian father in the apartment upstairs. He was about 5'8 ”, slightly built and his eyes, as I recall, were greyish-blue. He was a bookish type, bright and articulate and he always had neat, gelled hair - except on the occasion when his mates dumped him, drunk, on my doorstep that night ! But that's the before story. This is a few months later.

In the meantime, St. David and I had become friends. After I gave him refuge on the night of his Birthday, he eventually wheedled out of me what had happened and that seemed to give way him the courageousness to start confiding in me. offset, if he passed through the car park when I was cleaning the car, he would pay heed around, just making conversation. Then he began dropping-in on me in the apartment whenever he could - often late in the eve on his way home from a night out. It was all quite Platonic and ‘ proper'and I gave him coffee and we talked about all form of clobber. I effectively became a variety of unofficial pleader for him.

One of the salutary thing that seemed to induce come from these Old World chat was his increasing confidence and independence from his overbearing parents. After his Birthday, when he was out all Night for the first clock time in his spirit ( his parents never knew that he spent the Night zonked-out out on my bed, thank goodness ! ) they questioned him less and less about his coming and departure and seemed to give him Thomas More freedom to be the Thomas Young man that he was. And a gorgeous Cy Young man he was too ! Every clock time he came around, I couldn't stop from remembering my having to pluck his pant off his sot and sleeping torso ; and his cover girl tight black underpants ( with the whiteness trim and piping ! ) - and all the rest. But I digress……..

I suppose he must sustain known that I had grown quite fond of him but I couldn't quite figure-out why he liked outgo so much prison term with me until I got him onto the discipline of sex one night. My misgiving proved right. He knew that I was gay right from the outset ; so did his parents, because I had been fairly open about my erstwhile partner, now long gone, but it was only now that David admitted that he was gay too. Actually, the tidings he used were,"I think I might be gay."Yeah, well ! The trouble was he wasn't sure because, although he had never had any sake in young lady, his only ‘ relationship'was with this other lad, Gavin, who sounded to me passably messed-up and who was driving David up the bulwark !

David was besotted with Gavin though. Gavin was ‘ Mr Wonderful ’, in every respect. He had been his considerably friend at school and they had spent a lot of time together, in class, at each other's homes, in each other's room's, etc. They had"messed around ”, as Jacques Louis David so coyly put it, but had not"done anything unplayful ”. The understanding for that was not because of any hesitation on David's parting but because Gavin wasn't sure. According to David, Gavin wasn't trusted about himself ; he wasn't sure what he was and he wasn't sure what he wanted ; in fact, although I had never met Gavin, from what Jacques Louis David told me about him, there didn't seem to me to be a whole lot Gavin was sure about ! He wasn't doing David any commodity, that's for surely, but like a good counselor-at-law, I didn't say this to Saint David. But I did encourage David to observe questioning what he was doing and whether it was getting him anywhere.

Eventually, David resolved to have it out ( so to speak ) with Gavin, once and for all, and to tell him that he had to micturate up his judgment if he wanted to continue his relationship with St. David. If so, it was going to have to involve"doing sex properly ”, as David so quaintly put it. David rang me on his mobile earlier in the evening to say he was going over to see Gavin ( again ) and that he expected tonight to be the dénouement and"can I come unit of ammunition later to tell you how it went ? ”.
"Of course of instruction,"I said.
By 11.30, I figured they were probably"doing sex properly ”, to use David's Holy Writ, so I went to bed. The doorbell rang about 11.45 and I threw on my dressing-gown and answered the door to encounter David standing there, looking forlorn and with blood-shot heart. I suspected he'd been crying.
At this tip, I should mention that we had not been particularly tactile in our friendship up to now. Once the G-word had been discussed, David had taken to hugging me affectionately when I answered my forepart door to him but that was as far as it had gone. So I was a little taken by surprise when, as soon as the door was closed, he threw his limb around me and bust into tears !

"I've lost him !"he sobbed into my dressing-gown,"He's gone for secure now ! What am I going to do ?"

Now, I don't wear pajama to bed and I'm ashamed to say that I already had a hard-on under my dressing-gown and I was dire that he shouldn't find out, so I managed to attract him away from me and I steered him into the bedroom, as the rest of the apartment was in duskiness and the heating was off. I sat him on the bed, gave him a box of tissues and let him calm down enough to start telling me what had happened. well yes, I knew what had happened but that's what you do, don't you, at times like this !

After he calmed down a bit and the tears began to dry up, I made coffee and we sat on the bed for nearly an minute, with poor David recounting ( for the umpteenth time ) every detail his life-story with Gavin, interrupted with bouts of tear and sobbing and more tissues, until, when he had just about exhausted his supplying of tears, he said,

"Can I stay with you tonight ? I can't go home now and risk waking Mum & Dad. If they see me like this, what would I say ?"

What could I say ? After all that had passed between us and after what happened that night on his natal day, I couldn't turn him out now. I suppose, what I should feature done is let him sleep on the frame but I somehow knew that he needed the physical solace of a admirer beside him tonight, not just a cold couch to doss-down on for the nighttime. So I slipped discreetly back under the cover charge of the bed and just said,"OK ”, patting the top of the continental quilt beside me.

I pretended not to wait as he shyly turned his back to me, taking his shirt and pant off and laying them over the chairperson. But even from the vertebral column, the perspective of his slim, young body and his blemish-free skin sent shudder of exhilaration through me. I saw his lovely irreverent bum, tonight clad in a rather jazzy twain of pink and chicken briefs, which he left on. As he climbed into bed on the other side, I found myself saying,

"Do you want to draw close a patch ?"and I raised my arm as he quickly rolled across and snuggled up beside me, putting one arm around my middle and resting his straits on my chest. His underpant-clad bulwark was pressed against my thigh and I had an erection again !

Slightly embarrassed that he might discover my erection, I rolled onto my side, facing away from him but still holding him to me. His arm was still clutched around my center but his face was now buried in the spine of my neck and his hump ( which I was rather aware of by this time ) was pressing against the cheeks of my backside.

This seemed fine for a while and I thought he was settling-down to doze. But then I felt his arm move and his hand starting signal to stroke my chest, softly and gently at maiden, exploring and discovering my nipple. I didn't want his hand ‘ vagabondage'any further, so I took detention of it with my own and gave it an affectionate squeeze. Unfortunately, I think he must have taken that as a signal to go further because his hand now pulled away and began ‘ wandering'down across my stomach. As he did so, I felt his hand brush against my erect organ, unconstrained beneath the duvet. Needless to say, my heart was racing, surely tatty enough for him to hear it ! His mitt came to pillow on my erect and sensitive penis and he closed his fingers around it softly. I tried not to tweet but, you know how it is, you can't help it ; an unvoluntary spasm occurred in my inguen that manifested itself in a twitch in my member - followed by that conversant smell of a drop of pre-cum seepage from my tool.

Part of me wanted to stop him now, before it went any encourage, but I'm sorry to say that I was so excited by this gorgeous Cy Young man pressed tightly up against me and with his handwriting around my pipe organ that I just lay there, allowing him to make the future move. Which he did.

He then began slowly masturbating me, using my own pre-cum as a lube. I'm uncut, and he was gently pulling my prepuce up and down over the moist head of my vertical reed organ and this just encouraged more pre-cum to flow. His fingerbreadth seemed to be almost lovingly massaging the now swell up and moist head of my tool. I was so highly aroused by all this - and him especially - that I knew I wasn't going to be able to hold it. It was just too stir. Plus, I hadn't had sex or masturbated in the lastly three days !

Before I knew it, I felt that familiar aching impression in my orb ; his continued motions up and down with my foreskin and around and around with my penis-head, so firmly and yet so gently, soon elicited the inevitable result - and I came. As I climaxed, I gasped in relief as my jism erupted though my dick and onto the bed-sheets. He soon realised what was happening under the bed-clothes and the motion of his hand became more sweeping ; his fingerbreadth clasped and enveloped the head of my penis, as I shot 3 or 4 Sir Thomas More freight of my spermatozoon into his eager hand and fingers. I was in agony and ecstasy at the same sentence, as my spasms continued until they subsided in his helping hand. It was then that he kissed me - on the back of the cervix - as we lay there. I was just breathing heavily, catching my breath, as I hugged him close to me, as an mute acknowledgement of affection for what he had just done. I thought that would be it.

Quietly, he murmured my name and then said,

"Will you let me do it to you ?"He said the words with a sort of soft pleading in his vox and I could feel his own erection bulging in his underpants, pressed hard against my buttocks.
"Don't you want to sustain that for person special ?"was all I could call back to say.

He said,"But you are person special,"and I breathed-in a cryptical breathing time of surrender, as I turned on the light and rolled over to see him in the face. His lovely blue-grey eyes were still sad and blood-shot from all his crying earlier but his boldness just looked like a short little puppy that wanted to be loved. I couldn't aid it. I put my paw out, pulled his font to me and kissed him warmly on the rim. Such full, soft, toothsome and delicious lips.

I thought that, possibly, I might have shocked him ; but no. He simply copied my move and put his hand behind my head, as we both melted into each former in such a loving kiss that, to me, tasted like sweetened honey ! My mind raced as I thought of all the spontaneous rules I had just broken and I realised what thin ice I was on. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if he ended-up being hurt even more by what I had just done but somehow I must have known that he was old enough and sensible enough and that it was all going to be alright.

As he took his underpants off, I reached over to the cabinet and got a rubber from the draftsman. I gave it to him and said,

"I suppose you know what to do with this ?"

He looked at me with a sorting of sheeplike grin that rundle of naughtiness and guilt. He took it from me and began opening it, as I rolled onto my front with a pillow under me. I reached out and passed him the lubricant, as I felt him climb over, astride and behind me.
I guess it was because it was his first clock time doing this that he was a bit frantic at low and I had to sedate him down.

"carry it slowly - gently. I'm not going anywhere !"I assured him, as he nervously prodded around for his entering. I reached behind myself with one hand and took hold of his rock-hard erection, now clad in its binding, all slippery with lube, and I guided it to its destination. He pushed into me - a bit too hard and a bit too far really - and I gasped in hurting as his dick crashed my outer and inner sphincter almost simultaneously.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry"he said,"Did I do it wrong ?"

I reassured him,"No. No, it's alright ; just guard there a spell and let me relax."Good as Au, he waited for me to signal that he could conduct on.

Once he began thrusting in and out of me, it didn't take him long. His apparent movement quickly became urgent, as I felt his solid manhood pushing up, deeply into my interior. I had cum already less than half-an-hour ago and yet the excitement of feeling him slapping his inguen against my buttocks, his weaponry astride my consistency and his organ inside me was getting me excite again. He didn't realise it but his hard tool was also rubbing back and Forth River across my prostate gland and it was driving me towards another orgasm.

Within just a minute or two, his thrusting became more do-or-die and forceful. He started moaning and whimpering, as he made straight thrust after lunge, hard into me. All the pent-up emotions and defeat of his last year now came surging out of him and into me. I felt his organ throbbing and pulsing inside of me, as he shouted out his backup and then collapsed against my back with his sleeve clasped tightly around my chest, his grimace buried in the nape of my neck opening. He was crying again, sobbing his heart out, and I realised at that moment that at the pinnacle of his climax, he had been imagining that he was at hold up fulfilling his wish to prepare dear to his dear Gavin.

He had slipped out of me by this time and I let him sob against my neck for a moment or two, his teardrop and drop running down the side of my neck and cheek. Then I moved around and turned over. With the facility of experience, I quickly disposed of the safety from his now softening shaft and as I lay back down, he fell onto me, hugging me and murmuring,

"I'm sorry ; I'm so sorry,"as I gently stroked his pilus and comforted him. He knew that I knew - and that I understood. We both drifted-off to sleep in each other's arms.

I need not have worried about him. It was me that probably got hurt because we never made honey again, although we became even strong, deeper friends than before. He still called around for late night chats but we never talked about that Night and soon our conversations would include narrative of his latest conquest and then his new"boyfriend ”, who he of course brought around to me to approve ! It's sad really, isn't it - but in a gracious kind of way !