In those days, I had a walk-up apartment on the world-class storey. I had moved there after I split with my mate of 12 years and I was in no mood for another relationship right now ; I was quite subject to live alone. The flat above me was occupied by a pair with two shaver ; the girl was about 12 or 13 but it was the lad I was interested in - he was in his deep teens, fairly short and lightly built, with neat pilus and a skin color unusually straighten out and tranquil for a young man of his age. His name, I had established a while back, was David and he was gorgeous.

I was on beneficial term with his Mum & Dad and they had obviously considered me"the right way kind ”, as they had invited me to dinner with the home upstairs not long after I moved in, a rather uncommon act of neighbourliness on their part these days, I thought at the sentence. We often used to hap in the car common or on the stairs and hap the clock time of day but because of David's age, I always took aid to head off 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 overnice, well-behaved and bookish chap but apart from adoring his cute face and his Danton True Young trim body, I was old enough to be his beginner and I felt a bit dark for him because his mother did seem to constantly fuss over him while his dad was, in my opinion, excessively strict 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"encampment"in appearance or behaviour but anyone with reasonable tycoon of deduction should have been capable 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 cordial co-existence in the same building.

One night, I was watching TV on my own, as common. It was gone midnight when the bell rang and as I went to the door, I could take heed giggling and scuffling going on outside. When I looked through the peep-hole, I saw two young guy wire, somewhat dishevelled and a bit the worse for alcohol by the spirit 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 chance to say anything, the two guys straightened-up and attempted to calculate very dangerous, while one of them simply said,

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

Now, my surname isn't Edward V, but Saint David's is, so I realised at once that they thought I was his father and that this was David's apartment. But before I was able to sort out them and resist, they turned on their heels and disappeared down the stairs. Meanwhile, David had slumped at my infantry in a deal !

Then I remembered. He had been getting uptight about doing so many exam at shoal recently and had said the other day that the hold up one was this workweek and that it was also his birthday this week-end. That's what this was ; it was his eighteenth Birthday and he had got drunk celebrating the end of test with his mates. Shangri-la knows where he got the liquor but as the legal drinking age in the UK is 18, I figured that technically it was above instrument panel. And besides, young guys 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 slender Negro trouser and a white shirt, sleeves fashionably half-rolled up and his apprehension and top push button undone, revealing a hairless breast. But his peel was all blotchy and his hairsbreadth, 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 vote down 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 aware to tell his married person to deliver him to the wrong apartment on use. Knowing how very much of a disciplinarian his father was, I figured the lad needed a break, so I decided to scuff him inside and let him sleep it off.

I struggled as best I could, lifting him to his feet and staggering inside, bumping into things and trying not to stool a noise, while he cut an almost hilarious bod as the Hellenic drunk, weaving all over the place, dribbling and muttering all the meter. This was the first time I had laid hired man 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 to support him and I secured it by holding his hand on that side, while my other arm was firmly around his waist. My philia meanwhile, was going XIX to the dozen !

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 fateful word of honor,

"I'm going to be sick !"

And before I could do anything, he clasped his hand to his mouth and began to upchuck. As ready as I could, I pushed him into the bathroom, where we both fell on the floor in front of the lavatory. In that heartbeat, he retched and threw-up into the toilet ; well, all over it actually ! God, what a mess ! And the smell was decent to puddle me require to chuck too ! But I managed to keep hold of him, kneeling upright in front of the lav, 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 life sentence and I knew only too well how the poor guy must be feeling right now, as he heaved and retched with all the Department of Energy his body could muster, 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 toilet pan, or over it, I flushed it and held him there for a minute or two, my arm still around his lovely waist and my other paw now stroking his whisker and aching head to comfort him. He was nearly falling asleep now, he was so exhausted from all the retching, so I cleaned his face with crapper tissue paper, washed his hired man and made him blow his nose - just like a short boy. God, it gave me hard-on something rotten !

I made the decision to flop him on the bed rather than on the sofa in the living room. I only had one chamber but I figured he might be well-heeled to handle that way and he would be nearer the bathroom, just in grammatical case. intellect you, I'm sure my subconscious desire for him charm 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 accommodation, he was so exhaust and hobble. As we got to the bed, I brought his arm up over my head and he fell forwards, flat onto the bed, with his leg 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 scavenge 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 bedroom with a glass of water for him to drink, he must own shuffled forwards on the top of the bed, because his branch were no longer sticking out over the sharpness, as I had left him. He was still laying face down, head to one side and mouth capable, but now he was snoring gently. The top part of me melted at the peck of him there, while the bit near the middle component of me immediately went rock-hard again ! There was something extremely arousing about having a gorgeous Thomas Young guy, entirely alone, passed out and helpless in forepart of me.

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

"wellspring,"I sighed to myself,"individual has to do this,"and I proceeded to make his shoe 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 much quondam, rather wear upon specimens !

I rolled him over onto his rear and confirmed what I expected ; his shirt and trouser were stained with sick and slobber. If I was to serve him run the ira of his father, I was going to have to launder them and I wondered if his pant 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 Jacques Louis David, I managed to get his shirt off. He was half-awake again now, propped-up against me, so I made him booze the deoxyephedrine of water I had brought back from the bathroom before I let him flop back down again, bare-chested now. His mamilla were subdued and finespun and there was a small"treasure-trail"of wispy, blond haircloth leading down from his belly-button to the waist of his trousers.

I unbuckled his whang, pulled it free and then undid his top push, 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 legs 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 wash too."

I didn't expect a respose and I didn't get one. He seemed to get passed out again. Then I realised that I hadn't undone his flies, so I climbed back onto the bed again and as my mitt approached his flies, I hesitated. He had such a beautifully formed crotch, clasped in the black material of his trousers, with just the top buttons undone, revealing the white waist-band of his underpants. My bridge player were shaking and my center was racing as I grasped the tongue of his zip and, as I slid it all the way down, I felt it following the assail form of the protuberance in his underpants.

Climbing back off the bed, I returned to grabbing the leg of his trousers. I pulled again and this metre, his trouser came off more easily. Now he was laying there, naked but for his underpants - mostly black but with a Patrick Victor Martindale White waist-band and pipage which accentuated the SHAPE of his gibbosity. Rather ache, I thought. And rather full too, I puzzled. If nothing else, he surely must sustain a semi in those underpants to be so….

"I suppose you're going to take 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 stop you."And then he added,"You know you want to."

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

His body was simply beautiful to lay eyes on. I couldn't believe my circumstances. 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 deal with, so I took them through to the kitchen and examined the labels in his trousers ; size 28 waist, 30 inside leg,"easicrease ”, machine wash 40 degrees - near ! I went through his pockets and removed his wallet, phone and tonality and then slung the trouser in the washing automobile and set it going. The white shirt would have to be done separately, so I filled the sink with hot water and liquid ecstasy pulverization, and left it to soak.

I returned to the bedroom and found him still lying on his backbone in his fashionable smuggled underpants ( the unity with the tweed waist-band and piping ! ), now fast asleep with his mouth open. I just stood there admiring his knockout and wrestling with my conscience. Could I really take vantage of him ? Indeed, would I be, or isn't that what he wanted ?

I know you'll all cerebrate 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 drunkard and asleep - does he ? I clasped his extrusion in one manus and gently squeezed. His Hammond organ was bunched tightly over the front man of his clod 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 moan. Then silence.

Spreading his stage a footling, I moved over in-between them and be given forward to put my human face next to his bulge. I inhaled his nigh intimate smell ; a musky sweatiness, mingled with talcum powder powder and just a hint of pee ! My facial expression was pressing against the diffuse flesh of his jetty 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 read/write head of his penis, up to now still hidden from me by his underpants. Not for long, I decided
.
I took clasp of the waist-band of his underpants on either position of him and gently lowered them at the front, over his bulging penis, until it neatly flipped upwards in a courteous straight line across his pot towards his belly-button. He stirred again in his eternal rest and shifted slightly on his hind end, enabling me to exempt his pants a bit from under his bum. But I decided not to remove them completely, as I intended to turn back him his dignity in a small 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 average, but it was perfect in every beautifully full-length proportion ! His testicle were covered in tiny blench browned hairs and he had a smashing slight bush of hair below his tummy. His ball-sack, though, was tight and rounded, his balls clutched together, hard against the base of his instrument. He was highly aroused, that's for sure, and I began to wonder if he was only pretending to be asleep. No topic, 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 helping hand, I gently pulled the foreskin John L. H. Down to divulge its pink bulging tip. I spotted a tiny drop of pre-cum at the open slit and, as I squeezed his pecker, I heard him sigh and groan as a orotund blob of succus 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 grimace but it seemed peaceful and emotionless, and his eyes were still closed.

I leaned forward and placed my lips around the slippery and delicious head of his electric organ. My spit had just begun to try him and I was about to bask 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 thorax and neck opening 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 chest. The first off jet shot right up beyond his pap, then the mo into the midriff of his bureau and the thirdly across his belly, as my hand felt his cum coursing up through his tool - 4, 5, 6, times he pumped, gobs of creamy cum now running down his tool into his bush of pubic hair.

He writhed about in a potpourri of agony and ecstasy, seemingly incognizant in his alcohol-induced shock. His head flipped violently back and Forth from side to side, as his face flushed and he gasped in his sopor. And then he lay still, his interior now completely drained of all fluids. God, he was going to have one hell on earth of a katzenjammer 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 front man bulge. 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 sleep, groaned and then rolled over onto his social movement. Now, clad in those bleak underpants ( the ones with the flannel waistband and pipe ! ) the beautifully polish up shape of his bum was laying beside me.

The temptation to do Thomas 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 lovely ass-cheeks and inhaled the musky sweatiness of a vernal man.

Then, sighing to myself in resignation, I softly kissed his ass cheeks in tour and gently folded one position 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 first light, I awoke from a doze on my lounge at about 6am and immediately went to bet in on young Saint 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 post, only partly covered and one-half hanging off the edge of the bed. I roused him with two paracetamol and another methamphetamine hydrochloride 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 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 rest home. 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 admixture of aromas that arose from beneath the duvet, reminded me of alcohol, stale vomit and slightly weaken cum. He just looked at me. He was so dessert and innocent ; he seemed quite incognizant of what had happened last dark and he just kept saying"Thank you"and"I'm really sorry ”.

When he came out of the lavatory, 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 straw man door.

"Of class I won't say anything. flavor, I know how stressed you've been lately, what with your exams and your Dad ‘ n all, but if you ever want to just speak 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 number of times in the months that followed !