Just to remind you - Saint David was 19 and he lived with his younger Sister, a smothering mother and a rather authoritarian father in the flat upstairs. He was about 5'8 ”, slightly built and his eyes, as I recall, were greyish-blue. He was a studious eccentric, bright and articulate and he always had neat, gelled hair - except on the function when his better half dumped him, sot, on my threshold that dark ! But that's the former story. This is a few month later.

In the interim, Saint 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 return him the courage to part confiding in me. first-class honours degree, if he passed through the car parking lot when I was cleaning the car, he would hang around, just making conversation. Then he began dropping-in on me in the apartment whenever he could - often late in the evening on his way home from a night out. It was all quite platonic and ‘ proper'and I gave him java and we talked about all form of stuff. I effectively became a variety of unofficial counsellor for him.

One of the salutary things that seemed to feature come from these Old World chat was his increasing trust and independency from his overbearing parents. After his Birthday, when he was out all Nox for the number one meter in his life-time ( his parents never knew that he spent the nighttime zonked-out out on my bed, thank goodness ! ) they questioned him less and less about his comings and departure and seemed to give him Sir Thomas More exemption to be the young man that he was. And a gorgeous young man he was too ! Every clip he came around, I couldn't occlusion from remembering my having to pull his pant off his drunkard and sleeping body ; and his lovely tight black underpants ( with the white trim and piping ! ) - and all the remainder. But I digress……..

I suppose he must own known that I had grown quite fond of him but I couldn't quite figure-out why he liked spending so much prison term with me until I got him onto the subject of sex one night. My suspiciousness proved right. He knew that I was gay right from the kickoff ; so did his parents, because I had been fairly open about my old cooperator, now long gone, but it was only now that Jacques Louis David admitted that he was gay too. Actually, the speech he used were,"I think I might be gay."Yeah, well ! The bother was he wasn't sure because, although he had never had any sake in girls, his but ‘ relationship'was with this other lad, Gavin, who sounded to me fairly messed-up and who was driving Jacques Louis David up the wall !

David was besotted with Gavin though. Gavin was ‘ Mr Wonderful ’, in every respect. He had been his best champion at school and they had spent a lot of time together, in grade, at each other's homes, in each former's room's, etc. They had"messed around ”, as Jacques Louis David so coyly put it, but had not"done anything grievous ”. The ground for that was not because of any reluctance on Saint David's theatrical role but because Gavin wasn't sure. According to St. David, Gavin wasn't sure as shooting 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 David told me about him, there didn't seem to me to be a completely lot Gavin was surely about ! He wasn't doing David any good, that's for sure, but like a honest counsellor, I didn't say this to David. But I did boost David to keep questioning what he was doing and whether it was getting him anywhere.

Eventually, Jacques Louis David resolved to have it out ( so to speak ) with Gavin, once and for all, and to tell him that he had to wee up his brain if he wanted to continue his human relationship with David. If so, it was going to have to take"doing sex properly ”, as David so quaintly put it. Jacques Louis 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 bout later to separate you how it went ? ”.
"Of course,"I said.
By 11.30, I figured they were probably"doing sex properly ”, to use Saint David's words, so I went to bed. The doorbell rang about 11.45 and I threw on my dressing-gown and answered the door to find St. David standing there, looking forlorn and with blood-shot eyes. I suspected he'd been crying.
At this percentage point, I should note 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 front door to him but that was as far as it had gone. So I was a niggling taken by surprise when, as soon as the door was closed, he threw his arms around me and burst into rent !

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

Now, I don't article of clothing pajama to bed and I'm ashamed to say that I already had a erection under my dressing-gown and I was do-or-die that he shouldn't find out, so I managed to pull him away from me and I steered him into the bedroom, as the remainder of the apartment was in iniquity and the heating plant was off. I sat him on the bed, gave him a box of tissue and let him tranquillize down enough to start telling me what had happened. wellspring 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 weeping began to dry up, I made coffee bean and we sat on the bed for nearly an hour, with wretched David relation ( for the umpteenth time ) every detail his life-story with Gavin, interrupted with bouts of tears and sobbing and Thomas More tissue paper, until, when he had just about exhausted his supply of tears, he said,

"Can I abide 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 birthday, I couldn't turn him out now. I suppose, what I should have done is let him sleep on the couch but I somehow knew that he needed the physical comfort of a supporter beside him tonight, not just a common cold lounge to doss-down on for the dark. So I slipped discreetly back under the covers of the bed and just said,"OK ”, patting the top of the duvet beside me.

I pretended not to look as he shyly turned his back to me, taking his shirt and trousers off and laying them over the chair. But even from the rear, the view of his slim, young body and his blemish-free tegument sent shudder of fervor through me. I saw his pin-up pert bum, tonight clad in a rather jazzy distich of pink and yellow briefs, which he left on. As he climbed into bed on the other face, I found myself saying,

"Do you want to cuddle a piece ?"and I raised my arm as he quickly rolled across and snuggled up beside me, putting one arm around my centre and resting his head on my chest. His underpant-clad jetty was pressed against my second joint and I had an erection again !

Slightly embarrassed that he might identify my erection, I rolled onto my position, facing away from him but still holding him to me. His arm was still clutched around my middle but his case was now buried in the backrest of my neck opening and his protuberance ( which I was rather aware of by this time ) was pressing against the cheeks of my backside.

This seemed fine for a piece and I thought he was settling-down to doze. But then I felt his arm move and his paw commencement to stroke my dresser, softly and gently at inaugural, exploring and discovering my teat. I didn't desire his mitt ‘ vagabondage'any further, so I took hold of it with my own and gave it an affectionate squeezing. Unfortunately, I think he must hold taken that as a signal to go further because his hand now pulled away and began ‘ wandering'down across my abdomen. As he did so, I felt his hand copse against my erect pipe organ, unconstrained beneath the eiderdown. Needless to say, my philia was racing, surely brassy enough for him to hear it ! His mitt came to rest on my erect and sore penis and he closed his fingerbreadth around it softly. I tried not to twinge but, you know how it is, you can't assistance it ; an involuntary spasm occurred in my groin that manifested itself in a vellication in my member - followed by that comrade touch of a drop of pre-cum oozing from my tool.

Part of me wanted to stop him now, before it went any further, but I'm sorry to say that I was so excited by this gorgeous young man pressed tightly up against me and with his paw around my pipe organ that I just lay there, allowing him to form the side by side 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 damp headway of my tumid electronic organ and this just encouraged more than pre-cum to flux. His finger seemed to be almost lovingly massaging the now swollen and moist forefront 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 have it. It was just too exciting. Plus, I hadn't had sex or masturbated in the terminal three days !

Before I knew it, I felt that familiar aching spirit in my clump ; his continued motility up and down with my foreskin and around and around with my penis-head, so firmly and yet so gently, soon elicited the inevitable effect - and I came. As I climaxed, I gasped in relief as my jism erupted though my tool and onto the bed-sheets. He soon realised what was happening under the bed-clothes and the motions of his hand became more drag in ; his digit clasped and enveloped the head of my phallus, as I shot 3 or 4 more wads of my sperm into his eagre handwriting and digit. I was in torment and ecstasy at the Saami time, as my muscle spasm continued until they subsided in his hand. It was then that he kissed me - on the back of the neck - as we lay there. I was just breathing heavily, catching my breath, as I hugged him confining to me, as an wordless acknowledgement of affectionateness 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 kind of soft pleading in his part and I could feel his own erection bulging in his underpants, pressed hard against my buttocks.
"Don't you want to save that for someone special ?"was all I could call back to say.

He said,"But you are someone special,"and I breathed-in a deep breath of surrender, as I turned on the light and rolled over to take care him in the face. His cover girl blue-grey eyes were still sad and blood-shot from all his crying earlier but his face just looked like a piteous trivial pup that wanted to be loved. I couldn't help it. I put my mitt out, pulled his fount to me and kissed him warmly on the lips. Such full, cushy, luscious 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 sweet honey ! My intellect raced as I thought of all the oral rules I had just broken and I realised what thin ice I was on. I wouldn't be capable to forgive myself if he ended-up being hurt even more by what I had just done but somehow I must suffer 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 condom from the drawer. I gave it to him and said,

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

He looked at me with a form of sheepish grinning that radius of naughtiness and guiltiness. He took it from me and began opening it, as I rolled onto my straw man with a pillow under me. I reached out and passed him the lubricating substance, as I felt him climb over, astride and behind me.
I guess it was because it was his first base prison term doing this that he was a bit phrenetic at first and I had to becalm him down.

"Take it slowly - gently. I'm not going anywhere !"I assured him, as he nervously prodded around for his launching. I reached behind myself with one bridge player and took grasp of his rock-hard erection, now clad in its cover version, all slippery with lube, and I guided it to its destination. He pushed into me - a bit too heavy and a bit too far really - and I gasped in pain as his puppet crashed my outer and inner sphincters almost simultaneously.

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

I reassured him,"No. No, it's alright ; just hold there a patch and let me relax."Good as amber, he waited for me to signalize that he could carry on.

Once he began thrusting in and out of me, it didn't take him long. His motion quickly became urgent, as I felt his solid manhood pushing up, deeply into my insides. I had cum already less than half-an-hour ago and yet the excitement of feeling him slapping his groin against my fanny, his arms astride my body and his electric organ inside me was getting me aroused again. He didn't realise it but his arduous tool was also rubbing back and forth across my prostate and it was driving me towards another orgasm.

Within just a second or two, his thrusting became more desperate and emphatic. He started moaning and whimpering, as he made lunge after lunge, hard into me. All the pent-up emotions and frustration of his last year now came surging out of him and into me. I felt his Hammond organ throbbing and pulsing inside of me, as he shouted out his sculptural relief and then collapsed against my spine with his arms clasped tightly around my chest, his face buried in the nucha of my cervix. He was crying again, sobbing his marrow out, and I realised at that import that at the stature of his climax, he had been imagining that he was at finally fulfilling his wishing to make love to his darling Gavin.

He had slipped out of me by this clock time and I let him sob against my neck for a moment or two, his tear and trickle running down the position of my neck opening and cheek. Then I moved around and turned over. With the deftness of experience, I quickly disposed of the condom from his now softening peter 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 hair 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 love life again, although we became even solid, deeper Quaker than before. He still called around for late Nox chat but we never talked about that Night and soon our conversations would include tales of his in style conquering and then his new"fellow ”, who he of course brought around to me to approve ! It's sad really, isn't it - but in a nice kind of way !