In those days, I had a walk-up apartment on the first base. I had moved there after I split with my spouse of 12 years and I was in no mood for another relationship right now ; I was quite content to live alone. The apartment above me was occupied by a couple with two tiddler ; the girl was about 12 or 13 but it was the lad I was interest in - he was in his late teens, fairly short and lightly built, with keen hair and a complexion unusually clear and shine for a young man of his age. His name, I had established a while back, was David and he was gorgeous.

I was on good terms with his Mum & Dad and they had obviously considered me"becoming form ”, as they had invited me to dinner with the family upstairs not long after I moved in, a rather uncommon act of good-neighborliness on their share these days, I thought at the time. We often used to go by in the car park or on the stairs and pass the time of day but because of David's age, I always took attention to avoid situation 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 like me and he was a dainty, well-behaved and bookish feller but apart from adoring his cute facial expression and his new trim physical structure, I was old enough to be his sire and I felt a bit regretful for him because his mother did look to constantly fuss over him while his dad was, in my sentiment, excessively strict and rather intolerant. 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 behavior but anyone with fair mogul of deduction should give been capable to ferment it out from some of the things I said in my conversations with them. Whatever, it didn't seem to interpolate our essentially affable co-existence in the like building.

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

Before I had a chance to say anything, the two guys straightened-up and attempted to look very grave, while one of them simply said,

"Um…sorry Mr. Edward II, but we believe this belongs to you."And proceeded to set about to exit David to me through the doorway.

Now, my surname isn't Edward V, but St. David's is, so I realised at once that they thought I was his father and that this was Jacques Louis David's apartment. But before I was able to correct them and objection, they turned on their heels and disappeared down the stairs. Meanwhile, Jacques Louis David had slumped at my invertebrate foot in a quite a little !

Then I remembered. He had been getting edgy about doing so many examination at shoal recently and had said the other day that the finish one was this week and that it was also his natal day this week-end. That's what this was ; it was his 18th birthday and he had got drunk celebrating the end of exams with his mates. paradise knows where he got the booze but as the legal drinking age in the UK is 18, I figured that technically it was above dining table. And besides, young bozo can be highly resourceful when they set their idea to it !

What was I to do ? There he was, propped against my doorcase, dressed in slim Black trousers and a white shirt, sleeves fashionably half-rolled up and his neckband and top clitoris undone, revealing a hairless pectus. But his tegument was all blotchy and his hair, which was usually dandy and gelled, was all tousled and squashed. He was, frankly, a peck and he was drooling down himself and mumbling. I knelt down to listen and all he kept mumbling was,

"Dad'll kill me. Just let me break apart with you. He'll obliterate me if he sees me like this."

I realised that, while he was obviously toast, he had been sufficiently aware to narrate his Paraguay tea to deliver him to the wrongfulness apartment on purpose. Knowing how much of a disciplinarian his father was, I figured the lad needed a break, so I decided to drop behind him inside and let him sleep it off.

I struggled as outdo I could, lifting him to his infantry and staggering inside, bumping into things and trying not to make a noise, while he cut an almost hilarious frame as the classic drunk, weaving all over the lieu, dribbling and muttering all the clock time. This was the first time I had laid manpower on him and I was already aroused by the warmth of his physical structure, albeit sweaty and smelling of booze ! I slung his arm over my neck to corroborate him and I secured it by holding his deal on that side, while my former arm was firmly around his shank. My heart lag, was going xix to the dozen !

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

"I'm going to be sick !"

And before I could do anything, he clasped his hand to his sass and began to vomit. As agile as I could, I pushed him into the privy, where we both fell on the flooring in forepart of the john. In that wink, he retched and threw-up into the toilet ; well, all over it actually ! God, what a mess ! And the smell was plenty to make me require to vomit too ! But I managed to prevent hold of him, kneeling upright in front of the toilet, with his caput half down the pan, retching his whole insides up and moaning in-between.
Most of us have been in that situation at one clock time or another in our lives and I knew only too well how the hapless guy must be feeling right now, as he heaved and retched with all the energy his body could muster up, evacuating from his insides, every morsel of food and every drop of fluid he had consumed in the last 4-5 hours.

After he had more-or-less emptied his interior into my john pan, or over it, I flushed it and held him there for a minute of arc or two, my arm still around his lovely waistline and my other hand now stroking his tomentum and aching forefront to comfort him. He was nearly falling asleep now, he was so exhausted from all the retching, so I cleaned his case with lavatory tissue, washed his hands and made him blow his nose - just like a trivial boy. God, it gave me hard-on something rotten !

I made the conclusion to fall flat him on the bed rather than on the lounge in the living room. I only had one bedchamber but I figured he might be easier to handle that way and he would be nearer the lavatory, just in guinea pig. head you, I'm surely my subconscious mind desire for him tempt my choice at the sentence ! I had just about managed to get him back to his feet but I virtually had to persuade him side by side door to the bedroom, he was so wash up and limp. As we got to the bed, I brought his arm up over my fountainhead and he fell forwards, flatbed 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 decide what to do next.

I needed to strip up in the bathroom, so I grabbed a towel and put it under his dribbling face and put a bowl beside the bed, while I went off to tidy up the mess. When I came back into the sleeping accommodation with a chalk of weewee for him to drink, he must suffer shuffled forwards on the top of the bed, because his stage were no longer sticking out over the boundary, as I had left him. He was still laying face down, head to one slope and sassing open, but now he was snoring gently. The top part of me melted at the great deal of him there, while the bit near the middle part of me immediately went rock-hard again ! There was something extremely arousing about having a gorgeous untried guy, entirely alone, passed out and helpless in front of me.

But then there was the olfactory sensation ; that clinging, penetrating odour of stale vomit and I realized that, somehow, I was going to stimulate to clean him up before sending him home.

"well,"I sighed to myself,"someone has to do this,"and I proceeded to take his brake shoe and socks off !

His bare substructure were soft and unblemished and his toes were like those of a boy, all beautifully formed and hardly walked-on - unlike my much honest-to-goodness, rather worn specimens !

I rolled him over onto his back and confirmed what I expected ; his shirt and trousers were stained with sick and dribble. If I was to help him scarper the anger of his beginner, I was going to have to wash 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 next him while I unbuttoned his shirt. Then I sat him up.
"sweetener,"I said,"I've got to get this shirt off and in the wash,"

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

I unbuckled his rap, pulled it free and then unmake his top buttons, trying not to look 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 pegleg of his pant and pulled. Not a lot happened.

"Give me some help here,"I chastised him,"I need to get these trousers in the laundry 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 rainfly, so I climbed back onto the bed again and as my hands approached his fly ball, I hesitated. He had such a beautifully formed crotch, clasped in the inkiness material of his trouser, with just the top buttons undone, revealing the white waist-band of his underpants. My hands were shaking and my nub was racing as I grasped the clapper of his zip and, as I slid it all the way down, I felt it following the rounded form of the bulge in his underpants.

Climbing back off the bed, I returned to grabbing the legs of his trouser. I pulled again and this clip, his pant came off more easily. Now he was laying there, naked but for his underpants - mostly black but with a whiten waist-band and piping which accentuated the shape of his bulge. Rather smart, I thought. And rather full too, I puzzled. If nothing else, he surely must stimulate a semifinal in those underpants to be so….

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

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

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

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

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

If there was any doubt in my judgment as to the reason he was in my apartment, that input assured me he knew what was likely to happen. He probably wanted it to but was too shy to engineer it without being drunk ! How many other young men, doubtful as to their sexuality, have done the same ?

His body 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 climate to put up a struggle ! Nevertheless, practicalities still ruled my point. I had the shirt and trousers to cope with, so I took them through to the kitchen and examined the labels in his trousers ; size of it 28 shank, 30 inside leg,"easicrease ”, machine laundry 40 point - upright ! I went through his sack and removed his wallet, telephone set and keys and then slung the trousers in the lavation automobile and set it going. The whiteness shirt would have to be done separately, so I filled the sump with hot water and scoop powder, and left it to soak.

I returned to the bedchamber and found him still lying on his back in his stylish black underpants ( the ones with the clean waist-band and piping ! ), now fast departed with his back talk out-of-doors. I just stood there admiring his beauty and wrestling with my conscience. Could I really take advantage of him ? Indeed, would I be, or isn't that what he wanted ?

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

Spreading his legs a minuscule, I moved over mediate them and leant forward to put my case next to his gibbousness. I inhaled his most adumbrate odour ; a musky sweatiness, mingled with talcum powder and just a hint of pee ! My nerve was pressing against the lenient flesh of his groin and I was in Heaven. 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 head of his penis, up to now still hidden from me by his underpants. Not for long, I decided
.
I took hold of the waist-band of his underpants on either side of him and gently lowered them at the front, over his bulging member, until it neatly flipped upwards in a decent straight bloodline across his tum towards his belly-button. He stirred again in his eternal sleep and shifted slightly on his buttocks, enabling me to dislodge his pants a bit from under his bum. But I decided not to take away them completely, as I intended to rejoin him his self-regard in a little while.

I gently lifted his phallus forwards ; if it had been semi-engorged before, it was getting fully hard now. He was not particularly busty, just average, but it was stark in every beautifully uncut ratio ! His glob were covered in tiny wan brown hairs and he had a neat lilliputian bush of hairsbreadth below his breadbasket. His ball-sack, though, was tight and rounded, his balls clutched together, hard against the understructure of his instrument. He was highly aroused, that's for surely, and I began to wonder if he was only pretending to be asleep. No subject, 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 manpower, I gently pulled the foreskin down feather to expose its pink bulging tip. I spotted a tiny drop of pre-cum at the undefendable puss and, as I squeezed his instrument, I heard him sigh and groan as a large blob of juice oozed from the end and ran into my finger's breadth. I slowly moistened the end of his tool with his own succus and I heard him moaning again. I looked up at his side but it seemed passive and emotionless, and his eyes were still closed.

I leaned forward and placed my brim around the slippery and delicious head of his pipe organ. My tongue had just begun to smack him and I was about to bask the adjacent part of my exploration when I realised that he was shaking all over. I pulled back to see that the unharmed top of his chest and cervix were flushed and before I knew what was happening, I heard him let out a kind of a doleful cry and with a groan, he exploded up across his belly and his chest. The showtime jet snap right up beyond his nipple, then the second into the midriff of his chest and the third gear across his belly, as my hand felt his cum coursing up through his cock - 4, 5, 6, times he pumped, seafarer of creamy cum now running down his tool into his George Walker Bush of pubic hair.

He writhed about in a mixture of torture and disco biscuit, seemingly unaware in his alcohol-induced stupor. His head flipped violently back and Forth from slope to side, as his face flushed and he gasped in his nap. And then he lay still, his inside now completely drained of all fluids. God, he was going to have one hell on earth of a hangover tomorrow !

I cleaned him up with tissues 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 figurehead pocket. 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 quietus, groaned and then rolled over onto his straw man. Now, clad in those Negro underpants ( the ones with the blank waistband and piping ! ) the beautifully round off shape of his bum was laying beside me.

The temptation to do more to him was enormous 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 Pres Young man.

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

Next morning, I awoke from a drowse on my sofa at about 6am and immediately went to look in on Cy Young David. He had obviously been writhing about in the Nox, because the eiderdown was all over the office and he was now in the foetal position, only partly covered and half hanging off the border of the bed. I roused him with two paracetamol and another Methedrine of piss and he blearily came too, looking at me and then around the room.
"Where am I ?"he asked, as he emerged from the remains of the duvet and sat up.

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

As I sat following to him, the mixture of aromas that arose from beneath the continental quilt, reminded me of alcohol, moth-eaten vomit and slightly damp cum. He just looked at me. He was so sweet and inexperienced person ; he seemed quite unaware of what had happened last nighttime and he just kept saying"Thank you"and"I'm really sorry ”.

When he came out of the bathroom, having had a shower 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 smuggled pant he was again wearing.

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

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

"Thanks, I will."

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