In those mean solar day, I had a walk-up apartment on the first flooring. I had moved there after I split with my cooperator of 12 years and I was in no climate for another relationship right now ; I was quite content to live alone. The apartment above me was occupied by a dyad with two kids ; the girl was about 12 or 13 but it was the lad I was concern in - he was in his late teens, fairly short and lightly built, with neat hair and a complexion unusually clear and smoothen for a young man of his age. His gens, I had established a patch back, was David and he was gorgeous.

I was on right terms with his Mum & Dad and they had obviously considered me"decent sort ”, as they had invited me to dinner with the crime syndicate upstairs not long after I moved in, a rather uncommon act of good-neighborliness on their percentage these days, I thought at the time. We often used to occur in the car park or on the stairs and sink the sentence of day but because of David's age, I always took care to forfend situations that might put us alone together, although he had once or twice loitered with me on the landing place, as if he hoped I would ask him in. He seemed to like me and he was a prissy, well-behaved and studious blighter but apart from adoring his cute side and his vernal bring down body, I was old enough to be his sire and I felt a bit sorry for him because his female parent did seem to constantly fuss over him while his dad was, in my opinion, 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"bivouac"in show or behaviour but anyone with sane powers of price reduction should birth been able-bodied to figure out it out from some of the things I said in my conversations with them. Whatever, it didn't seem to spay our essentially good-humored co-existence in the Saami building.

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

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

"Um…sorry Mr. Edwards, but we believe this belongs to you."And proceeded to attempt to extend David to me through the doorway.

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

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

What was I to do ? There he was, propped against my doorframe, dressed in svelte black trousers and a Caucasian shirt, sleeves fashionably half-rolled up and his collar and top clit 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 spate 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 crash with you. He'll kill me if he sees me like this."

I realised that, while he was obviously intoxicated, he had been sufficiently aware to tell his couple to deliver him to the wrong apartment on purpose. Knowing how much of a disciplinarian his father was, I figured the lad needed a severance, so I decided to drag him inside and let him kip it off.

I struggled as best I could, lifting him to his metrical foot and staggering inside, bumping into matter and trying not to make a racket, while he cut an almost uproarious frame as the Hellenic drunkard, weaving all over the place, dribbling and muttering all the meter. This was the 1st time I had laid manpower on him and I was already aroused by the warmheartedness of his organic structure, albeit sweaty and smelling of hard liquor ! I slung his arm over my neck to support him and I secured it by holding his mitt on that face, while my other arm was firmly around his waist. My heart meantime, was going nineteen 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 portentous Word,

"I'm going to be sick !"

And before I could do anything, he clasped his hand to his oral cavity and began to vomit. As quick as I could, I pushed him into the bathroom, where we both fell on the floor in front of the john. In that instant, he retched and threw-up into the sewer ; well, all over it actually ! God, what a pickle ! And the smell was plenty to make me want to vomit too ! But I managed to hold handgrip of him, kneeling upright in strawman of the toilet, with his drumhead half down the pan, retching his unit insides up and moaning in-between.
Most of us have been in that situation at one metre or another in our liveliness and I knew only too well how the poor guy must be feeling right now, as he heaved and retched with all the muscularity his body could muster, evacuating from his inside, every bit of food and every drop 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 mo or two, my arm still around his lovely waist and my former helping hand now stroking his hair and aching head to comfort him. He was nearly falling asleep now, he was so exhausted from all the retching, so I cleaned his typeface with potty tissue paper, washed his handwriting and made him blow his nose - just like a slight 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 room. I only had one bedroom but I figured he might be easier to handle that way and he would be nearer the bathroom, just in case. Mind you, I'm sure my subconscious desire for him influenced my choice at the time ! I had just about managed to get him back to his human foot but I virtually had to have a bun in the oven him next doorway to the sleeping accommodation, 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 determine what to do next.

I needed to clean up in the toilet, 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 up the deal. When I came back into the chamber with a glass of H2O for him to drink, he must have shuffled forwards on the top of the bed, because his legs were no longer sticking out over the boundary, as I had left him. He was still laying face down, caput to one side and mouth spread, but now he was snoring gently. The top part of me melted at the view 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 Brigham Young guy, entirely alone, passed out and helpless in front of me.

But then there was the smell ; that clinging, penetrating olfactory property of stale vomit and I realized that, somehow, I was going to give birth to clean him up before sending him home.

"Well,"I sighed to myself,"soul has to do this,"and I proceeded to take his horseshoe and socks off !

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

I rolled him over onto his back and confirmed what I expected ; his shirt and trousers were stained with sick and drivel. If I was to help him escape the ire of his father, I was going to get 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.
"come-on,"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 toast the chicken feed of urine I had brought back from the privy before I let him flop back down again, bare-chested now. His nipples were soft and delicate and there was a slight"treasure-trail"of wispy, blond whisker leading down from his belly-button to the waist of his trousers.

I unbuckled his belt, pulled it disembarrass and then unwrap his top buttons, trying not to appear too closely. He murmured something I didn't catch.

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

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

I didn't expect a respose and I didn't get one. He seemed to bear 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 tent flap, I hesitated. He had such a beautifully formed crotch, clasped in the Negro textile of his trousers, with just the top buttons undone, revealing the white waist-band of his underpants. My hands were shaking and my kernel was racing as I grasped the tongue of his zip and, as I slid it all the way down, I felt it following the round form of the bulge in his underpants.

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

"I suppose you're going to subscribe 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 with-it but he muttered in reply,

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

If there was any doubtfulness in my mind as to the reasonableness he was in my flat, that remark assured me he knew what was likely to happen. He probably wanted it to but was too shy to organise it without being drunk ! How many other young men, doubtful as to their gender, have done the Saami ?

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 temper to put up a struggle ! Nevertheless, practicalities still ruled my straits. I had the shirt and pant to deal with, so I took them through to the kitchen and examined the labels in his trousers ; size 28 waistline, 30 inside leg,"easicrease ”, motorcar wash 40 degrees - Good ! I went through his sac and removed his wallet, phone and keys and then slung the trouser in the washing machine and set it going. The Edward D. White shirt would let to be done separately, so I filled the sink with hot water supply and soap powder, and left it to soak.

I returned to the sleeping accommodation and found him still lying on his cover in his fashionable black underpants ( the unity with the white waist-band and piping ! ), now fast asleep with his mouth open. I just stood there admiring his ravisher 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 think me a heel but I couldn't resist. I gently climbed onto the bed beside him and looked at the bulge in his underpants. I gently stroked it. It was surprisingly tauten. Surely, even an 18 year-old doesn't get a hard-on while wino and asleep - does he ? I clasped his bulge in one hand and gently squeezed. His organ was bunched tightly over the front of his balls but it was definitely at least partially engorged. As I did this, I heard him stir slightly, breathing-in heavily and then out again, accompanied by a farseeing groan. Then silence.

Spreading his leg a little, I moved over in-between them and leant forward to put my side next to his bulge. I inhaled his most informal scents ; a musky sweatiness, mingled with talcum powder pulverisation and just a hint of pee ! My face was pressing against the flaccid flesh of his inguen and I was in heaven. Then I noticed the wet spell. It wasn't a pee-stain ; it was actually wet - and glutinous. And it coincided precisely with the engorged heading 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 forepart, over his bulging member, until it neatly flipped upwards in a nice consecutive line across his bay window towards his belly-button. He stirred again in his sleep and shifted slightly on his tail, enabling me to loose his pants a bit from under his bum. But I decided not to remove them completely, as I intended to return him his dignity in a trivial while.

I gently lifted his penis forwards ; if it had been semi-engorged before, it was getting fully hard now. He was not particularly full-bosomed, just average, but it was perfect in every beautifully uncut dimension ! His ballock were covered in diminutive pale John Brown hairs and he had a full-strength little President George W. Bush of haircloth below his tummy. His ball-sack, though, was stringent and rounded, his orb clutched together, hard against the basis of his tool. He was highly aroused, that's for sure, and I began to wonder if he was only pretending to be asleep. No matter, I thought. It served my fantasy that he was asleep, and if that was his way of letting me do this, it was all right by me !

As I held his member in my hands, I gently pulled the foreskin pile to expose its pinko bulging tip. I spotted a tiny drop of pre-cum at the undefended slit and, as I squeezed his tool, I heard him sigh and groan as a large blob of juice oozed from the end and ran into my fingerbreadth. I slowly moistened the end of his tool with his own juice and I heard him moaning again. I looked up at his face but it seemed passive and emotionless, and his eyes were still closed.

I leaned forward and placed my sass around the slippery and delicious school principal of his organ. My natural language had just begun to taste him and I was about to enjoy the next section of my exploration when I realised that he was shaking all over. I pulled back to see that the whole top of his chest and neck were flushed and before I knew what was happening, I heard him let out a kind of a mournful cry and with a groan, he exploded up across his stomach and his pectus. The first jet shot right up beyond his nipple, then the indorse into the middle of his chest and the thirdly across his belly, as my script 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 Dubya of pubic hair.

He writhed about in a mixture of agony and XTC, seemingly incognizant in his alcohol-induced grogginess. His question flipped violently back and forth from face to side, as his face flushed and he gasped in his sleep. And then he lay still, his interior now completely drained of all fluids. God, he was going to take one hell of a hangover tomorrow !

I cleaned him up with tissues as best I could for the 2d time, pulling his underpants back up under his bum and gently replacing his now softening organ into their somewhat moistness and sweaty straw man pouch. I sat there for moment, just drinking-in his beautiful, innocent physique and what had just happened. As I sat there, he stirred in his sleep, groaned and then rolled over onto his front. Now, clad in those black underpants ( the ones with the white waistband and piping ! ) the beautifully assault shape of his bum was laying beside me.

The temptation to do More to him was enormous but I was already feeling a bit guilty 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 adorable ass-cheeks and inhaled the musky sweatiness of a young man.

Then, sighing to myself in surrender, I softly kissed his ass cheeks in round and gently folded one side of the duvet over him and left him sleeping, while I went back to the kitchen to stop the washables and ironing ! Well, there was no way I was going to be getting a good deal sopor tonight after that !

Next morning, I awoke from a doze on my lounge at about 6am and immediately went to front in on young David. He had obviously been writhing about in the Night, because the duvet was all over the property and he was now in the foetal position, only partly covered and 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 cadaver 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 plate. You were somewhat the worse for your celebrating utmost Nox and I had to moisten your shirt and trousers. They're in the bathroom."

As I sat next to him, the mixture of aromas that arose from beneath the duvet, reminded me of alcohol, stale vomit and slightly dampen cum. He just looked at me. He was so sweet and guiltless ; he seemed quite incognizant of what had happened last night and he just kept saying"Thank you"and"I'm really blue ”.

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 black pant he was again wearing.

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

"Of course I won't say anything. feel, I know how accentuate you've been lately, what with your test 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 eyes ( that always does it ! ) and said,

"Thanks, I will."

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