In those solar day, I had a walk-up apartment on the first base. I had moved there after I split with my partner of 12 years and I was in no modality for another relationship right now ; I was quite content to live alone. The apartment above me was occupied by a span with two tiddler ; the girl was about 12 or 13 but it was the lad I was matter to in - he was in his belatedly teens, fairly shortsighted and lightly built, with corking hairsbreadth and a complexion unusually pass and smooth for a young man of his age. His name, I had established a while back, was Saint David and he was gorgeous.

I was on good terminal figure with his Mum & Dad and they had obviously considered me"comely sort ”, as they had invited me to dinner with the family line upstairs not long after I moved in, a rather rare act of good-neighborliness on their portion these mean solar day, I thought at the metre. We often used to pass in the car park or on the stairs and slide by the time of day but because of David's age, I always took upkeep to avoid 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 like me and he was a squeamish, well-behaved and studious crack but apart from adoring his cute look and his youthful trim body, I was old enough to be his forefather and I felt a bit sorry for him because his mother did appear 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"pack"in appearance or demeanor but anyone with reasonable force of deduction should sustain been able to work it out from some of the things I said in my conversations with them. Whatever, it didn't seem to castrate our essentially cordial co-existence in the Sami building.

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

Before I had a opportunity to say anything, the two guys straightened-up and attempted to seem very dangerous, while one of them simply said,

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

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

Then I remembered. He had been getting edgy about doing so many exam at school 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 exams with his married person. Heaven knows where he got the booze but as the legal drinking 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 mind to it !

What was I to do ? There he was, propped against my doorframe, dressed in slim Black person trousers and a white shirt, sleeves fashionably half-rolled up and his leash and top release 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 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 drunk, he had been sufficiently cognisant to tell his mates to cede him to the wrong apartment on purpose. Knowing how much of a disciplinarian his Father-God was, I figured the lad needed a severance, so I decided to drag him inside and let him slumber it off.

I struggled as dear I could, lifting him to his feet and staggering inside, bumping into things and trying not to construct a disturbance, while he cut an almost uproarious anatomy as the classic sot, weaving all over the place, dribbling and muttering all the time. This was the first time I had laid script on him and I was already aroused by the warmheartedness of his dead body, albeit sweaty and smell of hard drink ! I slung his arm over my neck to support him and I secured it by holding his helping hand on that English, while my early arm was firmly around his shank. My heart meanwhile, was going nineteen to the 12 !

We staggered down the hallway, with him muttering some kind of apologia. 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 mouth and began to throw up. As quick as I could, I pushed him into the toilet, where we both fell on the storey in nominal head of the washbasin. In that instant, he retched and threw-up into the crapper ; well, all over it actually ! God, what a mint ! And the aroma was enough to make me want to regorge too ! But I managed to preserve detention of him, kneeling just in front man of the toilet, 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 time or another in our lives 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 muster, evacuating from his inside, every morsel of food and every drop of fluid he had consumed in the concluding 4-5 hours.

After he had more-or-less emptied his interior into my sewer pan, or over it, I flushed it and held him there for a bit or two, my arm still around his lovely waist and my former helping hand now stroking his hairsbreadth and aching read/write head to comfort him. He was nearly falling asleep now, he was so exhausted from all the retching, so I cleaned his brass with toilet tissue, washed his mitt and made him go down on his nose - just like a picayune boy. God, it gave me hard-on something rotten !

I made the decision to flop him on the bed rather than on the lounge in the bread and butter room. I only had one bedroom but I figured he might be comfortable to deal that way and he would be nearer the privy, just in event. Mind you, I'm surely my subconscious desire for him influenced my choice at the sentence ! I had just about managed to get him back to his invertebrate foot but I virtually had to comport him next door to the sleeping accommodation, he was so eat and hitch. 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 bathroom, so I grabbed a towel and put it under his dribbling aspect and put a bowl beside the bed, while I went off to square away up the mess. When I came back into the bedroom with a glass of water for him to wassail, he must have got 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 side and mouth open, but now he was snoring gently. The top portion of me melted at the sight of him there, while the bit near the middle constituent of me immediately went rock-hard again ! There was something extremely arousing about having a gorgeous Whitney Moore Young Jr. guy, entirely alone, passed out and helpless in front of me.

But then there was the smell ; that clinging, penetrating smell of cold vomit and I realized that, somehow, I was going to have to clean him up before sending him home.

"well,"I sighed to myself,"soul has to do this,"and I proceeded to take his shoes and air-sleeve off !

His bare understructure were soft and unmarred and his toes were like those of a boy, all beautifully formed and hardly walked-on - unlike my a good deal elder, rather fall apart 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 avail him turn tail the wrath of his Church Father, 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.
"Come-on,"I said,"I've got to get this shirt off and in the laundry,"

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 glass of water I had brought back from the bathroom before I let him fall flat back down again, bare-chested now. His nipples were soft and delicate and there was a petty"treasure-trail"of wispy, blond hair's-breadth leading down from his belly-button to the waist of his trousers.

I unbuckled his knock, pulled it complimentary and then undid his top buttons, trying not to look 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 trousers and pulled. Not a lot happened.

"spring me some help here,"I chastised him,"I need to get these trousers 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 fly sheet, so I climbed back onto the bed again and as my hand approached his tent flap, I hesitated. He had such a beautifully formed private parts, clasped in the black material of his trouser, with just the top push undone, revealing the white waist-band of his underpants. My hands were shaking and my philia was racing as I grasped the glossa 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 trousers. 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 White person waist-band and pipage which accentuated the physical body of his gibbosity. Rather smart, I thought. And rather full too, I puzzled. If nothing else, he surely must have a tractor trailer in those underpants to be so….

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

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

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

He was drowsy and seemed only one-half with-it but he muttered in reply,

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

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

His physical 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 mood to put up a struggle ! Nevertheless, practicalities still ruled my head. I had the shirt and trouser to make do with, so I took them through to the kitchen and examined the recording label in his trouser ; size 28 waistline, 30 at heart leg,"easicrease ”, political machine wash 40 degrees - Good ! I went through his pockets and removed his pocketbook, speech sound and keys and then slung the trousers in the washing auto and set it going. The E. B. White shirt would consume to be done separately, so I filled the swallow hole with hot pee and soap pulverization, and left it to soak.

I returned to the sleeping accommodation and found him still lying on his spine in his stylish dark underpants ( the ones with the Stanford White waist-band and piping ! ), now fast deceased with his backtalk open. I just stood there admiring his beaut and grapple 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 think me a heel but I couldn't resist. I gently climbed onto the bed beside him and looked at the prominence 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 numb - does he ? I clasped his bulge in one hand and gently squeezed. His reed 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 long groan. Then silence.

Spreading his legs a little, I moved over mediate them and be given forward to put my face next to his prominence. I inhaled his most intimate smell ; a musky sweatiness, mingled with talcum pulverization and just a wind of pee ! My face was pressing against the easy 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 viscous. 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 squeamish straight line across his pot towards his belly-button. He stirred again in his sleep and shifted slightly on his buttocks, enabling me to free his bloomers a bit from under his bum. But I decided not to murder them completely, as I intended to repay him his self-regard in a little while.

I gently lifted his penis forwards ; if it had been semi-engorged before, it was getting fully hard now. He was not particularly well-endowed, just norm, but it was perfect in every beautifully uncut symmetry ! His clump were covered in midget blanch brown hairs and he had a bang-up little bush of hair below his tummy. His ball-sack, though, was smashed and rounded, his formal clutched together, hard against the al-Qaida of his shaft. 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 phantasy that he was asleep, and if that was his way of letting me do this, it was finely by me !

As I held his phallus in my handwriting, I gently pulled the foreskin down to expose its pink bulging tip. I spotted a midget drop of pre-cum at the open slit 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 fingers. I slowly moistened the end of his tool with his own juice and I heard him moaning again. I looked up at his boldness but it seemed passive and emotionless, and his heart were still closed.

I leaned forward and placed my brim around the slippery and yummy promontory of his organ. My tongue had just begun to savour him and I was about to enjoy the next character of my exploration when I realised that he was shaking all over. I pulled back to see that the unanimous 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 groan, he exploded up across his belly and his chest. The first jet shot right up beyond his nipple, then the second into the middle of his chest and the tierce across his belly, as my deal felt his cum coursing up through his instrument - 4, 5, 6, fourth dimension he pumped, seafarer of creamy cum now running down his prick into his bush of pubic hair.

He writhed about in a mixture of agony and ecstasy, seemingly unaware in his alcohol-induced daze. His headspring flipped violently back and forth from slope to side, as his cheek flushed and he gasped in his sleep. And then he lay still, his inside now completely drained of all fluids. God, he was going to bear one hell of a katzenjammer tomorrow !

I cleaned him up with tissues as serious 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 battlefront pouch. 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 rest, groaned and then rolled over onto his front. Now, clad in those melanize underpants ( the 1 with the white girdle and piping ! ) the beautifully rounded 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 pin-up ass-cheeks and inhaled the musky sweatiness of a immature man.

Then, sighing to myself in resignation, I softly kissed his ass cheeks in turn and gently folded one face of the continental quilt 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 a good deal quietus tonight after that !

Next morning, I awoke from a doze on my sofa at about 6am and immediately went to look in on young St. David. He had obviously been writhing about in the Night, because the eiderdown was all over the place and he was now in the foetal position, only partly covered and half hanging off the bound 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 stiff of the continental quilt and sat up.

"You're in my sleeping room and you're on my bed,"I replied,"and you need to get up and go house. You were somewhat the worsened for your celebrating lastly Night and I had to wash your shirt and trousers. They're in the bathroom."

As I sat next to him, the concoction of aromas that arose from beneath the duvet, reminded me of intoxicant, stale vomit and slightly damp cum. He just looked at me. He was so sweet and innocent ; he seemed quite unaware of what had happened live Night and he just kept saying"Thank you"and"I'm really sad ”.

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

"Of course I won't say anything. Look, I know how punctuate you've been lately, what with your test and your Dad ‘ n all, but if you ever want to just mouth 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 routine of times in the months that followed !