In those Clarence Shepard Day Jr., I had a walk-up flat on the first floor. I had moved there after I split with my better half of 12 years and I was in no mood for another relationship right now ; I was quite subject matter to last alone. The apartment above me was occupied by a pair with two nipper ; the girl was about 12 or 13 but it was the lad I was concerned in - he was in his of late adolescent, fairly unretentive and lightly built, with neat hair and a complexion unusually clear and shine for a vernal man of his age. His name, I had established a while back, was David and he was gorgeous.

I was on good terms with his Mum & Dad and they had obviously considered me"decent sort ”, as they had invited me to dinner with the class upstairs not long after I moved in, a rather uncommon act of good-neighborliness on their character these days, I thought at the time. We often used to pass in the car park or on the stairs and exit the time of day but because of David's age, I always took care to head off site 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 courteous, well-behaved and studious chap but apart from adoring his cute fount and his young trim physical structure, I was old enough to be his founder and I felt a bit bad for him because his mother did seem to constantly niggle over him while his dad was, in my belief, 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"camp"in coming into court or behaviour but anyone with reasonable powers of tax deduction should have been able-bodied to run it out from some of the things I said in my conversations with them. Whatever, it didn't seem to alter our essentially amiable co-existence in the same building.

One night, I was watching TV on my own, as usual. It was gone midnight when the bell rang and as I went to the threshold, I could hear giggling and scuffling going on outside. When I looked through the peep-hole, I saw two immature guys, somewhat dishevelled and a bit the worse for alcoholic drink by the tone of matter. However, they had between them, supported in their arms, a distinctly bedraggled and flushed David. I opened the door.

Before I had a prospect to say anything, the two guys straightened-up and attempted to look very grave, while one of them simply said,

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

Now, my last name isn't Edward III, but Saint David's is, so I realised at once that they thought I was his male parent and that this was David's flat. But before I was able to rectify them and dissent, they turned on their heels and disappeared down the step. Meanwhile, David had slumped at my feet in a heap !

Then I remembered. He had been getting uptight about doing so many exams at school recently and had said the other day that the last one was this workweek and that it was also his birthday this week-end. That's what this was ; it was his 18th natal day and he had got drunk celebrating the end of exams with his mates. Shangri-la knows where he got the booze but as the legal drunkenness age in the UK is 18, I figured that technically it was above plug-in. 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 slim down black trousers and a White person shirt, sleeves fashionably half-rolled up and his collar and top button undone, revealing a hairless thorax. But his peel was all blotchy and his hair, which was usually nifty 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 gumming was,

"Dad'll kill me. Just let me crash with you. He'll vote out me if he sees me like this."

I realised that, while he was obviously drunkard, he had been sufficiently aware to separate his Paraguay tea to hand over him to the wrong apartment on purpose. Knowing how much of a disciplinarian his father was, I figured the lad needed a shift, so I decided to drag him inside and let him slumber it off.

I struggled as best I could, lifting him to his feet and staggering inside, bumping into things and trying not to spend a penny a noise, while he cut an almost screaming physical body as the classic drunk, weaving all over the office, dribbling and muttering all the time. This was the first time I had laid deal on him and I was already aroused by the warmth of his body, albeit sweaty and smelling of strong drink ! I slung his arm over my cervix to bear out him and I secured it by holding his hand on that slope, while my other arm was firmly around his waist. My eye lag, was going nineteen to the dozen !

We staggered down the hall, with him muttering some sort of apology. 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 script to his mouth and began to honk. As nimble as I could, I pushed him into the bathroom, where we both fell on the floor in battlefront of the lavatory. In that split second, he retched and threw-up into the toilet ; well, all over it actually ! God, what a mess ! And the smell was enough to fix me want to vomit too ! But I managed to observe hold of him, kneeling upright in front of the bathroom, with his headspring one-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 story and I knew only too well how the pitiful guy must be feeling right now, as he heaved and retched with all the vigor his body could muster, evacuating from his insides, every morsel of food and every drop of fluid he had consumed in the hold up 4-5 hours.

After he had more-or-less emptied his inside into my john pan, or over it, I flushed it and held him there for a hour or two, my arm still around his endearing waist and my other hired man now stroking his hair and aching heading to comfort him. He was nearly falling asleep now, he was so exhausted from all the retching, so I cleaned his facial expression with lavatory tissue, washed his hands and made him blow his nose - just like a little boy. God, it gave me hard-on something rotten !

I made the decision to fall through him on the bed rather than on the sofa in the animation room. I only had one sleeping room but I figured he might be easier to do by that way and he would be nearer the bathroom, just in lawsuit. Mind you, I'm for sure my subconscious desire for him shape my choice at the time ! I had just about managed to get him back to his feet but I virtually had to carry him future threshold to the bedroom, he was so beat 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 make clean up in the bathroom, so I grabbed a towel and put it under his dribbling cheek and put a bowl beside the bed, while I went off to clean up up the mess. When I came back into the bedchamber with a glass of urine for him to drink, he must have shuffled forwards on the top of the bed, because his peg were no longer sticking out over the edge, as I had left him. He was still laying face down, oral sex to one side and mouth open, but now he was snoring gently. The top role of me melted at the stack of him there, while the bit near the centre division of me immediately went rock-hard again ! There was something extremely arousing about having a gorgeous untested guy, entirely alone, passed out and helpless in straw man of me.

But then there was the scent ; that clinging, penetrating odour of cold puking and I realized that, somehow, I was going to possess to clean him up before sending him home.

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

His bare human foot were soft and unblemished and his toes were like those of a boy, all beautifully formed and hardly walked-on - unlike my much Old, rather worn specimens !

I rolled him over onto his spine and confirmed what I expected ; his shirt and trouser were stained with sick and drivel. If I was to aid him escape the anger of his Father, I was going to have to wash 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 adjacent him while I unbuttoned his shirt. Then I sat him up.
"bait,"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 glass of body of water I had brought back from the privy before I let him flop back down again, bare-chested now. His nipple were soft and delicate and there was a footling"treasure-trail"of wispy, blond hair's-breadth leading down from his belly-button to the waist of his trousers.

I unbuckled his whack, pulled it costless and then unmake his top push button, trying not to attend 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 branch of his trousers and pulled. Not a lot happened.

"Give me some assistant here,"I chastised him,"I need to get these trousers in the washing 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 custody approached his flies, I hesitated. He had such a beautifully formed crotch, clasped in the black material of his trouser, with just the top buttons undone, revealing the white waist-band of his underpants. My hands were shaking and my heart was racing as I grasped the tongue 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.

climb back off the bed, I returned to grabbing the peg of his trousers. I pulled again and this time, his trousers came off more easily. Now he was laying there, naked but for his underpants - mostly bootleg but with a white waist-band and piping which accentuated the pattern of his protuberance. Rather impudent, I thought. And rather full too, I puzzled. If nix else, he surely must have a trucking rig in those underpants to be so….

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

Shaken from my daydreaming 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 response,

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

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

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 mode to put up a struggle ! Nevertheless, practicalities still ruled my pass. I had the shirt and pant to deal with, so I took them through to the kitchen and examined the labels in his pant ; size 28 waist, 30 inside leg,"easicrease ”, machine race 40 stage - beneficial ! I went through his pockets and removed his notecase, earphone and keys and then slung the pant in the lavation machine and set it going. The White person shirt would birth to be done separately, so I filled the sink with hot urine and soap pulverization, and left it to soak.

I returned to the bedroom and found him still lying on his back in his stylish fatal underpants ( the ones with the blank waist-band and piping ! ), now fast asleep with his mouth open. I just stood there admiring his beauty and rassling 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 asleep - does he ? I clasped his protuberance in one hand and gently squeezed. His pipe organ was bunched tightly over the front of his balls but it was definitely at to the lowest degree partially engorged. As I did this, I heard him conjure slightly, breathing-in heavily and then out again, accompanied by a long groan. Then silence.

Spreading his peg a fiddling, I moved over in-between them and leant forward to put my face next to his gibbosity. I inhaled his most intimate aroma ; a musky sweatiness, mingled with talcum pulverization and just a hint of pee ! My font was pressing against the indulgent soma of his mole and I was in nirvana. Then I noticed the wet plot of ground. It wasn't a pee-stain ; it was actually wet - and sticky. And it coincided precisely with the binge pass of his penis, up to now still hidden from me by his underpants. Not for long, I decided
.
I took detention of the waist-band of his underpants on either side of him and gently lowered them at the front, over his bulging penis, until it neatly flipped upwards in a Nice straight line across his tummy towards his belly-button. He stirred again in his sleep and shifted slightly on his backside, enabling me to dislodge his drawers a bit from under his bum. But I decided not to absent them completely, as I intended to come back him his self-worth in a lilliputian 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 proportion ! His balls were covered in tiny blench brown hairs and he had a straight little bush of whisker below his pot. His ball-sack, though, was pissed and rounded, his ballock clutched together, hard against the stand of his tool. He was highly aroused, that's for sure, and I began to enquire if he was only pretending to be asleep. No affair, 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 phallus in my hands, I gently pulled the foreskin down to expose its pink bulging tip. I spotted a tiny dip of pre-cum at the open slit and, as I squeezed his puppet, 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 succus and I heard him moaning again. I looked up at his nerve but it seemed passive and emotionless, and his eyes were still closed.

I leaned forward and placed my lips around the slippery and delicious pass of his organ. My spit had just begun to savor him and I was about to enjoy the adjacent office 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 form of a doleful cry and with a groan, he exploded up across his abdomen and his thorax. The first jet shot right up beyond his tit, then the second into the middle of his breast and the third across his belly, as my mitt felt his cum coursing up through his tool - 4, 5, 6, times he pumped, yap of creamy cum now running down his tool into his shrub of pubic hair.

He writhed about in a mixture of agony and transport, seemingly unaware in his alcohol-induced semiconsciousness. His point flipped violently back and Forth from side to side, as his typeface flushed and he gasped in his sleep. And then he lay still, his insides now completely drained of all fluids. God, he was going to let one hell of a hangover tomorrow !

I cleaned him up with tissue as best I could for the second meter, pulling his underpants back up under his bum and gently replacing his now softening organ into their somewhat damp and sweaty front sac. I sat there for bit, just drinking-in his beautiful, innocent strain and what had just happened. As I sat there, he stirred in his rest, groaned and then rolled over onto his front line. Now, clad in those bootleg underpants ( the ones with the bloodless cincture and pipage ! ) the beautifully rounded shape of his bum was laying beside me.

The temptation to do Sir 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 young man.

Then, sighing to myself in resignation, I softly kissed his ass cheeks in bend and gently folded one side of the duvet over him and left him sleeping, while I went back to the kitchen to end the laundry and ironing ! Well, there was no way I was going to be getting much sleep tonight after that !

Next morning, I awoke from a doze on my couch at about 6am and immediately went to reckon in on Danton True Young David. He had obviously been writhing about in the night, because the duvet was all over the plaza and he was now in the foetal position, only partly covered and one-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 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 home. You were somewhat the worse for your celebrating last nighttime and I had to wash away your shirt and pant. They're in the bathroom."

As I sat next to him, the potpourri of aromas that arose from beneath the duvet, reminded me of alcohol, 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 concluding dark and he just kept saying"Thank you"and"I'm really sorry ”.

When he came out of the lavatory, having had a shower bath 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 blackened 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 line I won't say anything. look, I know how accent you've been lately, what with your exam and your Dad ‘ n all, but if you ever want to just let the cat out of the bag 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 figure of sentence in the months that followed !