Just to remind you - David was 19 and he lived with his younger Sister, a smothering female parent and a rather authoritarian founding father in the apartment upstairs. He was about 5'8 ”, slightly built and his heart, as I recall, were greyish-blue. He was a studious character, bright and articulate and he always had neat, gelled hairsbreadth - except on the social function when his mates dumped him, drunk, on my doorstep that Nox ! But that's the earlier floor. This is a few month later.

In the interim, Saint David and I had become protagonist. After I gave him refuge on the Night of his Birthday, he eventually wheedled out of me what had happened and that seemed to give him the courage to embark on confiding in me. kickoff, if he passed through the car park when I was cleaning the car, he would hang around, just making conversation. Then he began dropping-in on me in the flat whenever he could - often late in the eventide on his way home from a Nox out. It was all quite Platonic and ‘ proper'and I gave him coffee and we talked about all sorts of clobber. I effectively became a variety of unofficial counsellor for him.

One of the trade good things that seemed to have come from these chats was his increasing trust and Independence from his overbearing parents. After his natal day, when he was out all dark for the number 1 metre in his life history ( his parents never knew that he spent the dark zonked-out out on my bed, thank goodness ! ) they questioned him less and less about his coming and goings and seemed to give him to a greater extent freedom to be the Cy Young man that he was. And a gorgeous untested man he was too ! Every metre he came around, I couldn't stop from remembering my having to force his trouser off his drunk and sleeping body ; and his pin-up tight black underpants ( with the white trim and piping ! ) - and all the rest. But I digress……..

I suppose he must experience known that I had grown quite fond of him but I couldn't quite figure-out why he liked disbursal so much metre with me until I got him onto the theme of sex one night. My suspicions proved right. He knew that I was gay ripe from the outset ; so did his parents, because I had been fairly open about my erstwhile mate, now long gone, but it was only now that David admitted that he was gay too. Actually, the words 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 missy, his only ‘ relationship'was with this early lad, Gavin, who sounded to me somewhat messed-up and who was driving David up the wall !

Jacques Louis David was besotted with Gavin though. Gavin was ‘ Mr Wonderful ’, in every regard. He had been his practiced friend at schooltime and they had spent a lot of sentence together, in class, at each early's homes, in each early's elbow room's, etc. They had"messed around ”, as St. David so coyly put it, but had not"done anything serious ”. The reasonableness for that was not because of any indisposition on Saint David's parting but because Gavin wasn't sure. According to David, Gavin wasn't sure 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 whole lot Gavin was certain about ! He wasn't doing David any goodness, that's for certainly, but like a respectable counsellor, I didn't say this to Jacques Louis David. But I did further David to keep questioning what he was doing and whether it was getting him anywhere.

Eventually, David resolved to have it out ( so to speak ) with Gavin, once and for all, and to severalise him that he had to make up his mind if he wanted to stay on his relationship with David. If so, it was going to take in to require"doing sex properly ”, as David so quaintly put it. 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 round later to tell you how it went ? ”.
"Of path,"I said.
By 11.30, I figured they were probably"doing sex properly ”, to use David's words, so I went to bed. The doorbell rang about 11.45 and I threw on my dressing-gown and answered the threshold to observe Saint David standing there, looking forlorn and with blood-shot heart. I suspected he'd been crying.
At this stop, I should mention that we had not been particularly tactile in our friendly relationship up to now. Once the G-word had been discussed, David had taken to hugging me affectionately when I answered my front line door to him but that was as far as it had gone. So I was a small taken by surprisal when, as soon as the threshold was closed, he threw his arms around me and split into binge !

"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 wear pj's to bed and I'm ashamed to say that I already had a hard-on under my dressing-gown and I was despairing that he shouldn't find out, so I managed to perpetrate him away from me and I steered him into the bedroom, as the rest of the apartment was in dark and the heating was off. I sat him on the bed, gave him a box of tissue paper and let him calm down enough to start telling me what had happened. Well 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 tear began to dry up, I made coffee and we sat on the bed for nearly an hour, with poor David relation ( for the umpteenth time ) every detail his life-story with Gavin, interrupted with turn of tear and sobbing and Sir Thomas More tissue paper, until, when he had just about exhausted his supply of tears, he said,

"Can I quell 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 receive done is let him sleep on the couch but I somehow knew that he needed the strong-arm comfort of a supporter beside him tonight, not just a cold lounge to doss-down on for the Nox. 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 rachis to me, taking his shirt and pant off and laying them over the chair. But even from the rachis, the sentiment of his slim, offspring body and his blemish-free skin sent tingle of excitement through me. I saw his lovely pert bum, tonight clad in a rather showy pair of pink and yellow briefs, which he left on. As he climbed into bed on the former face, I found myself saying,

"Do you want to nest a piece ?"and I raised my arm as he quickly rolled across and snuggled up beside me, putting one arm around my middle and resting his headway on my chest. His underpant-clad groin was pressed against my thigh and I had an erection again !

Slightly embarrassed that he might key out my erecting, I rolled onto my side, facing away from him but still holding him to me. His arm was still clutched around my middle but his boldness was now buried in the back of my neck and his bulge ( which I was rather aware of by this time ) was pressing against the cheeks of my backside.

This seem fine for a while and I thought he was settling-down to drowse. But then I felt his arm move and his hand start to stroke my chest, softly and gently at first gear, exploring and discovering my nipple. I didn't require his hired man ‘ wandering'any further, so I took handgrip of it with my own and gave it an affectionate hug. Unfortunately, I think he must have taken that as a signal to go further because his deal now pulled away and began ‘ wandering'down across my stomach. As he did so, I felt his manus brush against my raise organ, unconstrained beneath the duvet. Needless to say, my affection was racing, surely gaudy enough for him to hear it ! His hand came to take a breather on my erect and sensitive penis and he closed his fingers around it softly. I tried not to twitch but, you know how it is, you can't help it ; an unvoluntary muscle spasm occurred in my groin that manifested itself in a twitching in my member - followed by that familiar touch of a drop of pre-cum ooze from my tool.

voice of me wanted to stop him now, before it went any foster, but I'm sorry to say that I was so excited by this gorgeous young man pressed tightly up against me and with his hand around my organ that I just lay there, allowing him to make water the next motility. Which he did.

He then began slowly masturbating me, using my own pre-cum as a lubricating substance. I'm uncut, and he was gently pulling my prepuce up and down over the moist head of my erect harmonium and this just encouraged to a greater extent pre-cum to flow. His fingers seemed to be almost lovingly massaging the now swollen and moist head of my peter. I was so highly aroused by all this - and him especially - that I knew I wasn't going to be able to keep it. It was just too exciting. Plus, I hadn't had sex or masturbated in the finis three daytime !

Before I knew it, I felt that associate aching touch sensation in my ballock ; his continued motions up and down with my prepuce and around and around with my penis-head, so firmly and yet so gently, soon elicited the inevitable result - 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 question of his handwriting became more swing ; his finger clasped and enveloped the head of my penis, as I shot 3 or 4 More loads of my sperm cell into his eager helping hand and fingers. I was in agony and transport at the same time, as my spasm continued until they subsided in his hand. It was then that he kissed me - on the cover of the neck - as we lay there. I was just breathing heavily, catching my breathing time, as I hugged him closelipped to me, as an unspoken acknowledgement of affection for what he had just done. I thought that would be it.

Quietly, he murmured my name and then said,

"volition you let me do it to you ?"He said the words with a kind of soft pleading in his voice and I could feel his own erection bulging in his underpants, pressed hard against my buttocks.
"Don't you want to keep that for someone exceptional ?"was all I could call back to say.

He said,"But you are someone special,"and I breathed-in a deep breathing place of resignation, as I turned on the light and rolled over to look him in the face. His lovely blue-gray centre were still sad and blood-shot from all his crying earlier but his face just looked like a poor little pup that wanted to be loved. I couldn't avail it. I put my mitt out, pulled his face to me and kissed him warmly on the sassing. Such full moon, diffuse, luscious and delectable lips.

I thought that, possibly, I might have shocked him ; but no. He simply copied my move and put his hired hand behind my mind, as we both melted into each early in such a loving kiss that, to me, tasted like sweet-smelling honey ! My idea raced as I thought of all the unwritten normal I had just broken and I realised what thin ice I was on. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if he ended-up being hurt even more by what I had just done but somehow I must have 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 storage locker and got a safety from the draftsman. I gave it to him and said,

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

He looked at me with a sort of sheepish grin that spoke of naughtiness and guilt. He took it from me and began opening it, as I rolled onto my front with a pillow under me. I reached out and passed him the lubricant, as I felt him raise over, astride and behind me.
I guess it was because it was his inaugural meter doing this that he was a bit frantic at initiatory and I had to calm him down.

"Take it slowly - gently. I'm not going anywhere !"I assured him, as he nervously prodded around for his entry. I reached behind myself with one script and took hold of his rock-hard erection, now clad in its back, all slippery with lubricator, and I guided it to its finish. He pushed into me - a bit too hard and a bit too far really - and I gasped in pain in the neck as his tool 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 while and let me relax."commodity as gold, 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 hearty 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 keister, his limb astride my consistency and his reed organ inside me was getting me brace again. He didn't realise it but his hard tool was also rubbing back and forth across my prostate and it was driving me towards another orgasm.

Within just a minute or two, his thrusting became more desperate and forceful. He started moaning and whimpering, as he made lunge after lunge, hard into me. All the pent-up emotions and thwarting of his last year now came surging out of him and into me. I felt his organ throbbing and pulsing interior of me, as he shouted out his relief and then collapsed against my back with his arms clasped tightly around my chest, his face buried in the nape of my neck. He was crying again, sobbing his bosom out, and I realised at that second that at the height of his climax, he had been imagining that he was at last fulfilling his regard to make making love to his beloved Gavin.

He had slipped out of me by this clock time and I let him sob against my cervix for a second or two, his tears and dribble running down the side of my neck and nerve. Then I moved around and turned over. With the deftness of experience, I quickly disposed of the condom from his now softening tool 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 tomentum 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 again, although we became even firmer, deeper friends than before. He still called around for belated night chat but we never talked about that night and soon our conversations would include narrative of his latest seduction and then his new"beau ”, who he of course brought around to me to approve ! It's sad really, isn't it - but in a nice sort of way !