Ten years old. Sun-bleached hair, a messed-up mop on his head, reaching down almost far enough to fall in his eyes. Thin arms and legs, thin all over really. But big, kissable lips, deep brown eyes, pug nose scattered with freckles. Think Thomas Sangster in Love Actually. Yes, that’s it. And he was mine. My boyfriend. My partner. My lover.

I wasn’t that much older myself, a little over 18 months, but he was still young enough to be my little brother’s friend. Or at least he started out that way. I think I stole him in the end. But there was no jealousy there – my brother had many friends, and it’s not as if he didn’t see Sam any more. In fact, he probably saw him more than ever when Sam started hanging out with me.

My brother and I are close, really close. We don’t fight, don’t argue, it would be disrespectful to do so. Our older brother asked that we never fought, that we never made an argument for the sake of it, just before he died of leukaemia. His dying wish, and so we carried it out. We still do, to this day. Ben lives on the other side of the world, but when I see him it’s like we’ve never been apart.
But hang on a second, I’ve cheated a little bit here. I’ve done what a lot of authors do when they’re too lazy to start a story in the normal way, or don’t think it’s cool. I’ve started somewhere in the middle. That’s not cool, that’s cheap. I’d better fill you in from the beginning.

My name’s Jamie, not James, or Jim. Summer of 1987 I had just turned 12, and I was enjoying the long school holiday which had just started. It seemed like summer stretched out in front of me forever, though in truth it was only 10 weeks. But it had barely begun, so there was time to enjoy it. We lived on the top of the North Downs, in a little village surrounded on all sides by open farmland, dotted here and there with clumps of woodland. It seemed like there was hardly anyone my age in the village, although my little brother managed to find an almost endless stream of friends born within a few weeks of himself. And plenty of them were cute, too. I realised it at the time, though I didn’t really know what I was feeling. I just liked being around boys more than girls, and being around certain boys more than others. Sam was one of those boys. It always set my heart racing a little to see him coming up the path toward our house, looking for my brother. I knew what gay people were, but for some reason didn’t associate myself with them. Gay people were like Boy George, all flamboyant. I was just an ordinary boy. I liked playing football, could hold my own in a fight (or at least so I told myself), and I loved fast cars. I didn’t like flowers, or pink things. That, to my juvenile mind, meant that I couldn’t possibly be gay.

So I had these feelings, but didn’t really know what it was I was feeling, so I didn’t so anything much about it. I always hung around with my brother and his friends whatever they were doing, and they didn’t seem to mind me doing so. In his own peculiar little way, my brother always sort of looked up to me, even if I was only a year and a half older than him. Sam’s favourite activity when he came round was playing football, so he’d always wear his nylon football shorts round, and often little else. He was topless more often than not during the summer months, and more than once I found myself staring at his chest, and his stomach, and that V which disappeared beneath the waistband. I was fairly sure that he didn’t wear any pants under the shorts – a couple of times he’d fallen over whilst playing and I thought I could see all the way up to his balls. That, of course, set the blood pounding in my ears, and downstairs, too, though I simply put it down to the sheer naughtiness of the situation. He was also always wearing white sports socks and battered trainers, and I would love it when he would kick the shoes off to come indoors and walk around just wearing his shorts and socks. Occasionally he and my brother would play on the NES we had in the living room, both lying on their fronts on the floor in front of the TV, leaving me to sit on the sofa. Ostensibly I was there to watch them playing, and maybe join in a little myself, but if I was honest with myself, I just enjoyed watching their cute bums wiggling from side to side as they got really involved in the games. How I didn’t realise I was gay I don’t know, especially as more than once I had to leave the room to head up to my bedroom and have a quick wank behind closed doors.

Oh yes, I knew all about playing with myself by then. I had always been an avid reader, and I made good use of the library in the nearest big town. The librarians let me wander where I wanted looking for new reading matter, and that was how I came across the sexual education books, tucked into a corner almost as if the librarians accepted that they were necessary, but didn’t really want to encourage people to read them. I spent a happy few hours that afternoon, at the age of eleven, reading as much as I could, and getting hard looking at the pictures and reading the descriptions. My final discovery of the day, and the one which would turn out to be the most significant of all, was a book which spoke frankly about masturbation, going as far as to suggest how a boy might go about such an activity. I’d been hard all afternoon, my little dick tenting the front of my shorts so badly I couldn’t stand up straight. As soon as I found out this new technique, I shoved the book up my jumper and disappeared into the library’s toilets. Perched on the loo, with the book open on my knees, I touched myself with real purpose for the first time in my life, reading instructions from the book. I was taken aback by my first orgasm, so much so that I dropped the book, but I was hooked. I wanted more, and took to wanking every time I had a spare moment. I knew from the books that it wasn’t something you really talked to other people about, let alone did in front of anyone, so I understood to keep my activities private.
Back then, I was completely hairless, and would remain so until I was at least 13, but there was always a little moisture seeping out of my dick when I wanked, frothing up at the mouth of my foreskin as it was jiggled up and down. At first I thought it was a little bit of piss which was being frothed up, but a little more reading revealed to me that it was actually seminal fluid, though I wasn’t yet ejaculating at orgasm, and wouldn’t be until shortly before I got my first hairs.

The first time anything happened with Sam was about a week into the summer holidays. It was baking hot, but the heat had brought thunder with it, so we were all inside. Sam and my brother, Ben, were playing on the NES, concentrating hard on avoiding being shot by aliens or something – I wasn’t really paying attention to the screen. Both their arses had been bouncing from side to side, wound up as they were in the action on the screen. Jumping up at the end of a level, Ben announced he needed a wee, and ran out of the room, leaving me and Sam alone. Uncharacteristically, maybe because he knew it was likely to rain, Sam was wearing a t-shirt, but he was still in his football shorts and white socks, as always. Almost as soon as Ben had left the room, Sam rolled onto his back and looked up at me, then down to his crotch. My gaze followed his, and I noticed for the first time the bulge in the front of his shorts. It wasn’t a giant, but I could tell Sam was excited by the motion of his dick on the floor. Giggling, he grabbed the protrusion, shook it at me a couple of times, and then turned back onto his stomach and squirmed a little more, rubbing his little erection between himself and the floor. Ben came back a minute later, so the squirming stopped, but it wasn’t the end of the show by any means. As soon as they were back into the game, Sam’s legs magically spread wide, and his shorts rode up until I was staring at the junction of his scrotum and his leg. A quick adjustment with one hand and I could see his dick squashed out to the side, blatantly displayed for me to look at. I wasn’t about to refuse an offer like that, and so I studied the organ in detail. It was about as big as mine, which made it a little over 3 inches, and uncut like mine, though with less of an overhanging foreskin. As Sam moved with the game, I could see if being rolled between his hip and the floor, an erotic show I couldn’t ignore. As carefully as I could, I worked my hand into my pants and started wanking, trying to keep the movements to a minimum. Even this wasn’t good enough, though, as Sam caught me a few minutes later, glancing around and grinning when he saw where my hand was. That cheekiness was all I needed, and I came almost immediately, stifling a gasp as I had the hardest orgasm I’d ever experienced. It was so strong it was almost painful.

I felt a little guilty having a wank, because I was sure that Sam was just playing, not really flirting. The thing was, he kept on playing: a few days later he, my brother and I were out playing in some nearby woods, climbing trees and building forts, that sort of thing. I announced that I needed to go to the loo, and started walking off a little way to where there was a clump of bushes which was our traditional pissing spot. What I didn’t expect was for Sam to follow behind me, claiming that he, too, needed to go. When we got there, I got it out and started pissing into the bushes, but Sam just stood there holding his dick, idly playing with it and watching me piss. Fairly soon his dick was hard, and he was wanking it, rubbing the foreskin up and down, eyes riveted on my dick as it began to respond, slowly filling up with blood and cutting off the stream of piss. Soon I was as hard as he was, and shaking like a leaf with excitement. I had barely touched my dick when we heard Ben calling for us, wondering where we were, and Sam quickly tucked himself back in and headed back. Just as he went, he looked up into my eyes for the first time and flashed me a little shy smile. This was nothing like the lascivious grin he had given me at discovering me wanking on the sofa. This was a ‘hope you like me’ kind of smile, and I had a brief moment of wanting to take him into my arms and hold him, and touch him, and show myself off to him. Maybe even kiss those soft lips.

That experience got me thinking. And wanking quite a lot, truth be told. I used the image of Sam’s hard-on in all my fantasies, imagining him coming, or me doing it for him, or even lying naked together and rubbing our bodies on each other. The idea of gayness began to permeate my thoughts – after all, it wasn’t just about being limp-wristed and wearing odd clothes, it was more than that. I knew all about sex from the books I’d read in the library, but they’d mentioned nothing about gay people, and what they do. I’d heard the words ‘bumming’ and ‘blow job’ in the school playground, but had no concept as to what they might mean. A return trip to the library was in order, and a couple of days later I found myself in that infamous corner of the library, furtively looking through all the books for a clue about what it all meant. I did find out eventually that gay men liked to perform sex acts with other men, but the text was vague, talking about fellatio and anal sex, neither of which were terms that I understood. I didn’t know anything more about gay sex, but I was fairly sure of one thing, and I didn’t like it at all – I was gay.

On the bus home, I thought what that meant. I knew that no-one around me could find out, because gays were figures of hate, especially in the school playground. A couple of years previously, two boys in my year had been caught with their pants down behind the swimming pool building, and had been bullied so badly about it that they both left the school, and eventually both families left the area. I didn’t want that to happen to my family, so I had to keep things quiet. But what about Sam? He already knew that I got hard watching him wanking, so maybe he realised. I had to talk to him about it, had to try to convince him that I wasn’t gay before he told anyone that I was. I didn’t even consider the possibility on that bus ride home that Sam himself might be gay. It didn’t even enter my head.
I got off at the other end just as a stomach-churning realisation hit me – my brother was going on holiday with a schoolfriend and his family for a week the very next day, and so Sam wouldn’t be around to talk to for a whole week. That would mean a week of him being able to spread rumours about me, of being able to ruin my life. It didn’t occur to me to try to find him – he always came around to our house. I knew Sam wasn’t nasty at all, in fact one of the reasons I liked him was that he was always so nice to me, but I also reasoned that it was only right that he would tell people about me perving over him. I was a nervous wreck that night, so much so that I couldn’t eat, and my mum sent me to bed early, thinking I must be coming down with something. I was so worried, in fact, that I didn’t even have a wank, the first time I hadn’t at night since I discovered how to do it.

I woke up in the morning just about as worried as I had been the night before. None of the questions running around my head had been resolved. My parents were both out, my dad at work and my mum volunteering at the local hospice for the elderly, something she had been doing for a couple of years. She always left my brother and I alone during the summer months, never worried that we were going to get into trouble. I know I wouldn’t do the same for my own kids, were I ever to have any. Anyway, I wandered around the empty house, suddenly feeling very alone. My little brother would have left in the early morning, long before I was awake. It was odd to not have him around, though it wasn’t first time he had gone on holiday without me. We never had summer holidays, my parents preferring to spend the money at Christmas time, visiting my mother’s relatives in Australia, and so Ben was often invited on holidays with friends. I never had any invitations of the kind, but there was something so wonderful about our village in the summer that I really wouldn’t have wanted to leave anyway. Padding barefoot into the kitchen, clad only in my shorts with a morning hard-on tenting the front, I was surprised to hear the television on in the living room. I quickly hid my aroused state as best I could, and slowly edged around the corner into the living room until I could see what was going on. There on the sofa, engrossed in the cartoons was Sam, lying on his left, with his right hand in his shorts, idly playing with himself. Immediately my heart skipped a beat. The boy I needed to find, the boy I needed to tell not to let anyone know my secret, was lying on my sofa, and he was wanking! The problem was, I couldn’t just go in there, because he would see my hard-on, and would surely know that it was because of him. I was deliberating what to do when he calmly said,

“Are you coming in here, or are you going to stand there watching me all day?”

I nearly pissed myself with shock. He knew I was there! Slowly, unsure of myself in my own house, I walked into the living room. Sam had sat up by now, no longer playing with himself, but not hiding the bulge in the front of his shorts either. I said the first stupid thing that came into my head.

“Ben’s away on holiday.”

Sam just looked at me like I was the thickest person he’d ever met.

“I know,” he said after a moment. “I thought you might like to play with me.”

All the connotations of that comment hit me at the same time, and I just couldn’t help myself. After all, I was just a boy, and so I started laughing so hard that I doubled over. Sam tried to keep a straight face, but he couldn’t help himself, and was soon laughing at his own innuendo as hard as I was. That sort of broke the ice, and before long we were sat side by side on the sofa, watching the cartoons and making bad jokes. It turned out that my brother had said that Sam could come over while he was away and make sure I was alright, and had given him his house key to get in. I knew my mum wouldn’t have any problems with the arrangement, she was so used to Sam hanging around. He was almost a member of the family.

After a while, I remembered that I hadn’t had a shower yet, and got up to go and have one. I used to hate showering every morning until I discovered the joys of wanking, and found that the shower was the perfect place to play with my dick. When I got up and told Sam I was going for a shower, he immediately got a devilish look on his face, before asking if he could join me. I was a little taken aback by such a bold proposition, but the erection which immediately tented my shorts answered for me, and Sam followed me into the bathroom. I only had my shorts on, and so it didn’t take too much undressing before I was naked, Sam following shortly behind. We took a moment to look at each other before getting into the shower, the first time we’d seen each other properly naked. I loved Sam’s body. I’d grown used to seeing the various parts of it at one time or another, but the whole was certainly more than the sum of the parts. He had beautiful translucent white skin, except for his arms and torso which were usually bare. His rock hard dick jutted upwards from his groin, the foreskin pulled back just enough that I could glimpse the purple of his dickhead. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the blue veins running just beneath the surface, and the red line which ran down its underside, joining his dick to his balls. They were tight up in their sack, a soft, crinkled bag between his legs. I ached to touch him, to feel what it was like, for him to touch me. But we were both a little nervous, I think, and instead just got into the shower and started washing ourselves. It wasn’t until I saw some soap dripping down Sam’s back and into the top f his arse crack that I realised just how beautiful that part of him was. I always associated bums with dirtiness, but Sam’s looked so clean and pure and inviting right then. Without asking, I got a load of soap in my hands and started washing Sam’s back, working my hands across his shoulders, then down to his waist and eventually roaming across his bum cheeks. When my hands got there, Sam’s head went back and he let out a moan. I could see in the large bathroom mirror that his dick was hard and that he was playing with it with one free hand, so I supposed that he probably didn’t mind if I carried on. I noticed that Sam would gasp slightly if I let my fingers slip into the crack between his cheeks, and so I started working my way in there, washing towards his hole. Sam’s breathing became ragged, and I could feel him shaking with excitement. When I touched his hole, he let out a yelp and came immediately. The orgasm was so intense then he actually starting slipping over, and I had to catch him and lower him to sit on the floor, the shower still spraying us with water. After a couple of moments, he came back to his senses, a warm smile touching his lips. He thanked me for touching him, and then reached between my legs and started fingering my hole as I knelt over him. I was amazed at how good it felt to have someone touch me there, and my dick, which had gone down, was instantly hard again. It took a few moments for me to register that Sam was talking, and when I did I realised that he wanted to get out of the shower and do this in my room. I wasn’t about to say no, so, rather reluctantly, I broke our contact, standing to turn off the shower.

We dried quickly, and ran through the house naked to my room, shutting and locking the door behind us. There wasn’t anyone around to find out what we were doing, but it pays to be careful. Sam made me lie down on my bed on my back and spread my legs. He knelt between them and started to play with my dick. As he slowly rubbed the skin up and down with his right hand, his left went lower and started rubbing my hole again. The pleasure was so great that I arched my back, trapping his finger in place as I clenched my arse cheeks together. Sam wasn’t bothered, though, and took the opportunity to push the tip of his finger against my hole. I’d never felt anything like it, but instinctively knew I wanted more. Sam, realising that I was now pressing down onto his finger, instructed me to lift my knees up and hold onto them. When I had done so, he sucked his finger for a moment to get it wet, then put it back at the entrance to my arse. As he wanked me slowly, the finger ran around my ring, loosening it as I relaxed, and eventually slipping in. I didn’t realise until he wiggled it about that Sam’s whole index finger was up my bum, and I was surprised to find that it made my dick even harder. Sam kept on wanking me as he moved his finger around inside me, and when he hit one certain spot, I came really hard, arching my back and curling my toes at the feeling. When Sam finally slid his finger out of my arse, I felt very empty.

We didn’t do anything else that day – once our appetites were satisfied, they didn’t return.
The next morning, Sam was back, more blatant this time. As I came into the living room in the morning, he lay naked on his back on the sofa, rock hard dick in one hand, the index finger of his other toying with his hole. I watched him for a while, my own hand inside my shorts, playing with the foreskin which overhung the end of my dick even though it was pretty hard itself. I used to love teasing myself this way, getting a little tingle as my rough fingers found the sensitive skin just inside my foreskin. I watched Sam for several minutes as he lay on the sofa, eyes shut and oblivious to my presence. After a few minutes he stretched languorously , pulling both hands away from himself as a broad smile passed across his face. In the weeks to come, I would come to recognise this as a sign that Sam had experienced one of his mini-orgasms, just enough to keep him satisfied until I could do it properly for him. After a few moments of stillness, his eyes opened to see me there, my shorts now down around my ankles, my dick vibrating as I wanked hard at the sight of him. Rather than showing any surprise, Sam just giggled devilishly and went back to wanking his still-rock-hard dick, watching me as I did the same. He let go of his dick to draw his legs up, knees bent and pressing against his chest. I never thought I would find the sight of another boy’s arse erotic, but it sent a shiver through me to see his little pink pucker, just below his crinkly scrotum. I went and sat in the space on the sofa his legs had just vacated, and reached out a finger to it. As my digit brushed against the skin, Sam gasped audibly, and his arse lifted off the sofa, pushing the pucker onto my finger. I was too dry to penetrate with my finger, but I carried on rubbing around the ridged skin, eliciting moans of pleasure from Sam and more insistent pushing on my finger when it passed directly over the tight little hole. My other hand was free, and with Sam’s hands both occupied holding his knees up and apart, I decided to use my free hand to wank him, slowly at first, and then increasing my pace to match the jabbing of my finger at his arse. It was clear that Sam wanted my finger inside his arse, but both he and I were too dry. Remembering what my dad had tried to teach me about the unimaginably complex engine in his car, I recalled that oiled things can slide past each other easier, and hit on an idea. We were right by the kitchen, and I knew where I could get some oil. Pulling my hands away, to a confused look from Sam, I told him to go and wait in my bedroom, and I would be along in a minute. In the kitchen, I immediately went over to the cooker, next to which was a bottle of sunflower oil. Perfect.

In my room, Sam was on my bed, legs spread wide. His hands were back on his dick and balls, stretching and playing with them, no real rhythm, just keeping himself nice and hard. I grabbed a towel from my bedroom floor and walked over to the bed, Sam smiling up at me all the way.

‘I’ve got an idea,’ I said, in answer to his questioning look. It was the first thing either of us had said that morning. ‘Pull your legs up.’

Sam did so immediately, once again exposing that great arsehole of his to me. I slipped the towel beneath him and then poured a liberal amount of oil into my hand, letting it run through my fingers and fall onto the towel. The rest I slathered over Sam’s crack, receiving an astonished gasp for my efforts. My greased up fingers slid easily over his now-shining arsehole, and before long my middle finger was pressing gently but insistently at his hole. Suddenly Sam relaxed his muscles, and my finger slid in, carrying onto until it was buried to the knuckle and I could go no further. Sam’s dick was rock hard, but I decided not to touch it, instead concentrating on pumping my finger in and out, hitting the hard place inside Sam that he had found in me, and which had given me so much pleasure. Before long I was kneeling up on the bed, one hand pumping my own dick while the middle finger of the other hand pleasured Sam. He was nicely loosened up, and squelching slightly as I pumped him, which only served to turn me on even more. Sensing somehow that he wanted more, that he wanted stretching a bit, I added another finger, which he adjusted to quickly, moaning loudly for the few seconds after it was inserted. Then he went quiet, and pushed down very hard, smashing my fingertips into the lump inside himself, and I knew what was happening. As Sam’s orgasm overtook him, I could feel his arsehole squeezing my fingers, sucking on them almost, and I could see his little spike of flesh jump with each spasm. Finally he came down off the high, and I slowly pulled my fingers from his arse, eliciting a long, drawn-out sigh from Sam. I looked at my fingers, expecting to see something unpleasant on them, but all there was was the oil I’d put on them.

When Sam had recovered, he realised that I still hadn’t come, and insisted on giving me the same pleasure. Seeing what it had done to him, and already having experienced his little finger in me, I was quick to agree, and swapped places with Sam. He was just as generous with the oil as I had been, and even spread some around my dick and balls, giving them an attractive golden sheen. His fingers on my hole were like a jolt of electricity, and I almost came before he had a chance to do anything. I was glad I managed to hold off, though, as his finger slid into me a few minutes later and hit that lump. The pleasure was so intense that I let go of my knees, and seeing as it became obvious that I wouldn’t be able to hold them on my own, Sam instructed me to get onto my knees with my head down on the pillows. This position was just as erotic, and Sam’s finger slid in even more easily. Another joined it before long, but before I could come, both were gone. Looking round to find out what was wrong, I saw Sam with a grin on his face and a handful of oil being spread on his dick. At first I thought he was just going to wank with the oil, but I soon found out that Sam had other ideas, when he shuffled forward on his knees and lined his throbbing dick up with my hole. I felt a slight pressure, and then it was inside me. It was slightly fatter than his two fingers, slightly more round, and the pleasure was unbelievable. I was loosened up enough that he could really start pumping, and he did, fucking me with short hard jabs, his hip slapping against my oiled up arse. Sam was clearly enjoying it, as I could hear him panting, but it wasn’t as good for me as I wanted. I wasn’t going to come. So I suggested that I lie back down on my back and he take me from the front. We rearranged quickly, and I found myself with my head propped up on my pillows watching Sam line his puckered foreskin up with my hole and push forwards. It slid in easily and I could feel it come to a rest against the bump. As he started pumping, leaning over me on all fours, I could feel the tip of his dick bumping into that spot again and again, and the pleasure started really building. His face was only centimetres from mine, and when he leant forward to push home extra hard, I planted a kiss on his lips. Every time he leant forward I repeated the kiss, until he stopped fucking me and just leant forward, our mouths squashing together in an amateurish but passionate kiss. Slowly, as we continued to kiss, Sam’s hips started moving again, and I could feel the gentle slide in and out of his dick through my hole. This, combined with the kissing, sent me over the edge, and I came hard, breaking the kiss and gasping for air. I could feel Sam pumping still, then stopping and gasping himself as he had a second orgasm, feeling the sucking of my arse on his dick.

When we had both come down from our highs, Sam pulled out of me with a sound like satin sliding over skin, then lay down by my side, possessively draping a leg over my waist as he did so, his finally-softening dick squashed between us. We slept then, for several hours. Fucking became a regular activity over the next few days, several times a day. One time we did it right in the living room, watching a film together in the early afternoon. I got hard just sitting next to Sam, and before I knew it he was at on my lap, still facing the TV, but with my dick up his arse. We stayed in that position for more than an hour in the end, occasionally moving to keep us both hard, and only coming as the film drew to a close.

We both knew what was happening at the end of the week, and I wasn’t happy about it – my brother was coming home from holiday. Sure, I’d missed him, and it would be cool to have him around, but I’d grown to like spending the day fucking and being fucked by Sam. I loved his little white dick, with the puckered foreskin. I loved the fact that he was always as up for it as I was, sometimes more so, and I loved the fact that he would happily stay lubed up all day just so I could slip it in when I wanted. We even went out bowling with my parents during the week, and did it quickly in the toilets while we were there, not to orgasm, but it was fun anyway. The cramped stall had semen stains on all the walls, not that I understood at the time, and there was a spyhole through to the other stall, which judging from the noises we heard from there, was being used to watch us. On the way back in the car, in the darkness of the back seat, Sam unbuckled his jeans enough to open out the back and let me subtly slide my hand down there. Before long I had two fingers in him, and left them there all the way home. If my parents noticed anything, they didn’t say, and nor did they comment on the quite obvious bulges in our pants when we exited the car at my house. We had a voracious appetite, and fucked each other in my bed again that night, slowly this time, in the classic spoons position, which we naively thought we had invented. All of that would end, though, the next day, when Ben arrived home.

As I’d thought, it was hell having Ben home. Sam and I had to act like nothing was going on, and though he was around the house all the time, it had to appear that he was there to see Ben, not to get his rocks off with me. We had a couple of chances, and took each one of them, most notably when Ben offered to go to the local shop to get some icecreams, and insisted that we stay behind and carry on the game we were playing on the Super Nintendo. Of course, as soon as Ben was out of the door, Sam was on his knees and I was running into the kitchen to find the oil. I didn’t have time to loosen him up, we only had a few minutes, so I plunged straight in, drawing a pained gasp from Sam. I asked if he was ok, and despite sounding rather uncomfortable, he asked me to do him hard. I willingly obliged, and rammed myself into him over and over again, bringing us both to massive orgasms quickly, Sam collapsing under me for a minute before recovering enough to pull his shorts up. As it turned out, we had more time than we thought, having enough time to get back into the game and get even further than when Ben left. I asked Sam later that day in a quiet moment whether he was ok, and he smiled, giving me a quick kiss and assuring me that although he was sore, he really needed it and enjoyed it.


 

The real breakthrough in my relationship with Sam came as his eleventh
birthday approached. Summer had passed, and we were now into the first days
of autumn, the skies clouding over and the leaves turning. Normally, I hated
those few months as the weather closed in and the days grew shorter, but
this year something was different. I walked through the lanes of our village
actually taking notice of the changes around me, realising for the first
time how wonderful the changing seasons could be. It was mostly Sam's fault.
Autumn was always his favourite time of the year, and his enthusiasm
filtered through to me. We wrote each other letters, hastily exchanged when
my brother wasn't looking, and savoured in a quiet moment. Some of them were
just plain erotic, talking of what we would like to do to each other, whilst
others were simply news. My favourites, though, were those few which told me
of the time Sam missed spending with me. During our long, hot summer
together, only that week which my brother was absent allowed us any real
time together. Not all of it was sex, sometimes we just played together
during those few days, and I didn't realise quite how much I needed that
until it was gone. The sex was still there when my brother was around,
snatched in furtive moments when it could be, but the time spent just
sitting talking about things had vanished.
That's where Sam's eleventh birthday came in. He had a party scheduled for
the first Saturday of September, a couple of days after his birthday, but
quickly discovered, having arranged it, that my brother wouldn't be able to
attend. That immediately brought Sam's mood down -- though he was my lover,
he was still my brother's friend, and they still spent a lot of time
together. My brother, wonderful innocent that he was, immediately suggested
that I could take his place at the party. He knew Sam and I got on well, and
since a trip to a theme park had been arranged, and numbers already
confirmed, he thought that maybe I would like to go.
At the time of this suggestion, I was in my room, reading a book about life
on the Serengeti that Sam had recommended in one of his letters. He loved
wildlife, and it was another of his passions which rubbed off on me (no pun
intended...). Sam had convinced my brother that he should come and ask me
himself, and so he did, bursting into my room, almost hopping with
excitement. I looked up from the book and smiled when he came in, shutting
the door behind himself.
`Has my brother gone out?' I asked, my heart beginning to beat quite fast
and my dick already pointing skywards. Sam shook his head.
`Nope, he's still here, but I came to ask you a question. He can't come to
my birthday party, and said I should ask you!'
My response was immediate, I didn't even bother asking when. Dropping the
book and standing up, I grabbed Sam and kissed him strongly. We held each
other for a minute, bodies pressing close together, dicks finding each other
and grinding. When I broke the kiss to tell Sam that we didn't have long, I
wasn't expecting him to drop to his knees, but that's exactly what he did,
dragging my jeans and pants down to my ankles at the same time. My hard dick
sprang free, pointing to the sky and pulsing with my heartbeat. Almost
instantly it was in Sam's mouth, and he was sucking as hard as I had ever
felt. It didn't take long for that familiar feeling to build. This time,
though, it was different. For a few weeks, I'd been ejaculating as I came,
only a little amount, and still quite clear, but it was spurting all the
same. Sam knew about it -- I'd sprayed onto one of the letters I gave him and
circled it, but he'd never seen it actually happen. And he wasn't about to
see it now, either -- I warned him that I was about to come, and he just
carried on sucking, the middle finger of his right hand rubbing and pressing
at my arsehole. I shot a good few spurts into his mouth, and after showing
me them on his tongue, he proceeded to swallow. I was shocked, but
immediately turned on again.
`Didn't taste too bad, actually,' was Sam's response to the wonder my face
was clearly showing. `We'll have to do that again some time.'
With that he was up off his knees and out of the door, running down to the
living room, leaving me standing there with a still-hard dick and my clothes
around my ankles. I realised while standing there that for the first time, I
really longed to hold Sam for a while after our explorations.

The party couldn't come soon enough. Three of Sam's other friends were
coming too, but I was the only one who was going to stay the night at Sam's
house. His parents had almost insisted that I stay the night, telling my
parents to have a night off, since my little brother would also be away, and
my parents had happily taken them up on the offer. So, I was to spend the
night at Sam's house, in his room. The anticipation nearly killed me... A
couple of days before Sam's actually birthday, I spent a few hours going
into town looking for something to get him for his birthday. I wanted to get
him a present which really meant something, to show him how much I cared,
but I was also aware of the fact that I couldn't just give him that, I
needed to get him a present I could give him in front of the other kids, one
which wouldn't raise suspicion. I don't even remember what that present was
now, and I don't think Sam can either. I imagine it was some sort of toy
which was popular at the time. Perhaps something to do with the Turtles, or
maybe even some Simpson's merchandise, I simply don't recall. I remember my
mum giving me some money to buy him something, since you were meant to turn
up to a party with a present, but I have no idea what that money was spent
on. I remember what I spent the other money on, though, the money I had been
saving, a little bit here, a little bit there, all summer long. It still
wasn't a huge sum, but it was enough to buy Sam what I had planned.
A certain department store had a jewellery section which was full of cheap,
tacky stuff -- just right for a young kid's budget. One of the things they
sold in abundance were medallions which could be broken in half, one half to
give your sweetheart, the other to keep for yourself, each with its own
chain. They were cheap metal, cheap chains, but that was all I could afford,
especially with my convoluted plan. You see, there was one particular style
which came in two versions -- one with `boy' on the left half, `girl' on the
right, and the other version exactly opposite. By buying one version and
then waiting stealthily until the cashier had changed and buying the other
version, I was able to make up a composite which said `boy' on both halves.
Smiling to myself at my cunning, I dropped the unwanted `girls' into the bin
outside (an action which spoke volumes of my preferences, though I didn't
spot the irony at the time) and made my way home, hiding the special gift
inside my coat.
The excitement could only build as the Saturday approached. It hit home on
the Friday night, and I couldn't sleep properly until I'd wanked off several
times, which finally left me exhausted enough to slumber for a few hours. By
Saturday morning I was a bit of a wreck, tired and grouchy at having to be
out of be at 7am, until the excitement hit again and I was bouncing off the
walls. I don't think my parents knew what to think, to be honest. I've
talked with my dad about those years, and it would be some time later before
he and my mum twigged what was going on with me and Sam, and by that time it
was too late for them to do anything other than accept it (but that's
another tale, for another day). All mum and dad knew was that I was more
excited than I usually got about anything.
The theme park was a loot of fun, even though my mind kept drifting to the
sleepover at Sam's house, and I had to hid an almost constant boner. We'd
given Sam his presents at his house before leaving for the theme park, and
her had seemed a little disappointed with mine until I managed to whisper in
his ear that it wasn't the real present and that that would come later. When
he heard that, the grin on his face could have been seen a mile off, it was
that wide, and I was sure I saw a twitch in the crotch of his jeans. I
almost told him it wasn't that kind of present, but decided instead to leave
him thinking it was -- maybe I would prove him right that evening...
The day dragged on and on, and although I was having fun, all I really
wanted to do was spend the time alone with Sam. We did get a brief, fleeting
moment, when we both went to the loo at the same time and flashed each other
(and a rather shocked looking older man) our dicks, rock hard as they were,
but that was it, and it hardly constituted quality time. The evening brought
more promise, though, as it was clear that both Sam and I were flagging
somewhat, and his mother suggested that perhaps we ought to at least go to
his room and get ready for bed, and maybe watch a video in there, if not
actually get into bed. When we got to Sam's room, I was in for a shock.
Rather than a single bed and a camp bed for me to sleep on, Sam had a double
bed, and there was no sign of anywhere else to sleep. He saw my questioning
stare and giggled conspiratorially.
`My mum says we're young enough that sleeping in the same bed isn't a
problem,' he said after a moment. I couldn't agree more -- it certainly
wasn't a problem.
`So, what about that other present you were going to give me?'
I'd almost forgotten in the excitement, but now it was time to give Sam his
present. I told him to close his eyes, and I could see him tensing as he
expected something physical to happen. Instead, I just told him to put his
hand out, palm up, and slowly dropped the medallions, chains first, into his
hand. His eyes came open almost quicker than I could tell him that it was ok
to look, and he gasped slightly. When he'd had a chance to look at what they
said, that kilowatt grin was back. Taking one half, I undid the clasp and
hung it around his neck, and then he did the same for me. When they were in
place, we took the two halves and made them meet in the air between us. That
brought our faces close together, and we both leaned further in for the
kiss, which was passionate and strong, leaving us both hard as nails in our
pants.
It was a bit early to be going to bed properly, and so we decided that since
Sam's parents were still likely to pop their heads around the door to see if
we were alright that we better actually look like we were watching a video.
So, getting into our pyjamas, we crawled under the covers (it was a little
bit cold in there, after all), and flicked on the TV. There were football
highlights on, so we decided to watch those. After a few moments, Sam
started shifting around in the bed with his hands under the covers. I
wondered what on earth he was doing until his hands reappeared clutching hi
pyjama bottoms. It was a brilliant plan -- after all, no-one could tell we
weren't fully clothed under the covers as long as we hid the evidence, and
so within a few moments, I had joined him.
It didn't take long for things to progress from there, although we still had
to stay in control and be ready for his parents to come up the stairs.
Fortunately, we would be able to hear them coming in time to move our hands
away from each other's crotch, where we were both idly playing with the
other's hard as nails dick. Once or twice we both plucked up the courage to
disappear under the covers for a moment to give each other a quick suck, but
only for a few seconds. I loved the oppressive heat under there, and the
rampant boy smell, and couldn't wait until Sam's parents finally went to
bed. I cracked, telling Sam to warn me if he heard his parents coming, and
went back down there, sucking as hard and fast as I could. Sam came really
quickly, already hyped up as he was, and sat there with flushed cheeks and a
stupid grin on his face afterwards. He was still hard, and we carried on as
before almost as soon as I had come back up.
I won't continue with the messy details about the evening, I'm sure you can
fill in most of the gaps about what happened when Sam's parents finally went
to bed. What I wanted to tell you was how we fell asleep that night, me
spooned in behind Sam, my arms wrapped protectively around him, our bodies
contacting in as many places as possible. We were both content, we both knew
the relationship had changed, had evolved into something more. That was the
night that Sam changed from being my lover to being my boyfriend. When I
woke in the morning, Sam had shifted away from me, but it wasn't long before
he was back in my arms, this time facing me, nuzzling at my neck with his
nose and lips.

 

Waking the next morning, I noticed that Sam was gone from the bed. There was the briefest moment of panic before I could gather myself and realise that there was very little which could have gone wrong. I still missed his warm form next to me, though, and I was relieved when he walked back through the door of his room a few seconds later.
‘Just went for a quick piss,’ he explained as he shut the door behind himself. He was wearing a long t-shirt, and as he climbed into bed it rode up, flashing me a glimpse of his genitals, swinging free. He noticed me watching, and stopped, giggling, as he lifted the shirt off over his head and threw it over the other side of the room.
‘My parents won’t be up for ages yet, they always sleep in on Sunday morning,’ he said, before slipping beneath the covers, snuggling his warm body against mine. Despite the fact that we were both naked, and I had a morning erection, the situation wasn’t particularly sexual. We just lay there and chatted about random shit for a while, until the pressure grew too great in my bladder and I had to go for a piss myself. As I walked around the room trying to find enough clothing to make myself decent, Sam watched me and smiled in a very self-satisfied way. As he had done, I flashed a few times. It never hurts to give your boyfriend a bit of a show.
As I stood there peeing, I looked down at my chest, at the slight bulge in my t-shirt caused by the pendant. I fished it out quickly and looked at it, grinning to myself at the thought that in the room down the hallway, my boyfriend lay naked in bed waiting for me. Now, I realised, I was ready for a bit of fooling around.

The atmosphere at home changed noticeably following Sam’s birthday party. He would turn up to see me, not my little brother, and it became clear to everyone that he and I spent more and more time together. The party had given us the excuse to appear to become good friends without alerting anyone to what was really going on. We were young, but not naïve enough to believe that we wouldn’t find trouble by coming out. It was just one of those things you understood as a young boy.
My brother was the only one who seemed to think there might be more to our friendship than was apparent on the surface. More than once he just missed catching us at it, as he came into my room unexpectedly, or returned earlier from an errand than we thought he would. Finding private time together became more and more important as we became closer. At times all I had for a few days were Sam’s letters and a few grainy Polaroids we’d taken on one particularly adventurous morning out on our bikes. We were at different schools for the time being – Sam wouldn’t be going to the school I went to for another year – and so that cut down the possibilities even further. The odd sleepover lent us the opportunities we desired, but time was tight, and so more and more often we would end up heading off into the ample local countryside to find some quiet time together.
Private time didn’t always involve sex, but we were both quite horny boys, and inevitably there was a fair amount of it going on. Our favourite place took a bit of getting to, but that only served to make it a more attractive choice of location, since if it was hard for us to get to it, it would be equally difficult for most other people, and so we were less likely to be discovered. What we had found was an old disused caravan, which had somehow made its way into the middle of a very heavily overgrown wood. It couldn’t even be seen from the nearby road, from which it must have come at some point. Getting in was difficult in the extreme, with fallen trees from a hurricane blocking most approaches. The way that Sam and I managed to get in was, we thought, rather ingenious: there were still several large trees standing in the wood, and by climbing up a nearby one and moving from branch to branch, we could drop right onto the roof. It was a good thing we were so small and light, otherwise the branches wouldn’t have held our weight, and nor would the rotten old roof of the caravan. Entry was gained through an old, broken skylight which could easily be lifted up from outside. Inside the caravan was cold and damp, but not so bad that the furnishings couldn’t be used, and use them we did.
The first time we found the caravan and made our way in, we were so excited about the discovery that we didn’t even think about how good a place it would be to have sex until we were already on the way home. The next time we were a little more prepared, however, and I took with me a tube of enema lube we’d somehow plucked up the courage to purchase a week or so previously. Sam was first in, and by the time I‘d wormed my way through the hatch and dropped to the floor of the caravan, he was lying back on the bed which filled one end and had a hand in his shorts. I jumped him and we started kissing passionately, giggling a little as we went. I soon stopped eating Sam’s face, only to work my way down to his waistline. Lifting the bottom of his t-shirt, I started planting kisses on his tummy, going lower and lower, heading towards the elasticated waist of his shorts. I left the t-shirt and lifted the waistband, my kisses turning to short licks now. I took my time licking down the creases on each side which led to the V of his crotch, causing Sam to push his hips up at me. I could feel his boner through his shorts, the lack of underwear making it easier to find, and before long the puckered tip of his foreskin was right under my nose. I loved the way his heartbeat could be felt in the hot shaft, and enjoyed snaking my tongue into his foreskin. I’ve chatted to gay friends who always seem so surprised by how keen I was on dick even at that age, but it really was inbuilt into me. It never even seemed that strange – I was more than willing to suck off Sam whenever and wherever he wished. This time, I took a moment to roll down the skin with one hand whilst pulling the shorts lower with the other. Once the head was exposed, like the rest of his crotch now was, I ran my tongue over the head, eliciting a gasp from Sam. He always kept it nice and clean, just in case I ever got the chance to suck him off, which could happen anywhere, anytime, and so I just got the clean taste of a young boy’s dick. I really wanted to fuck Sam, and knew he would gladly acquiesce if I gave him an orgasm first, and so I went to town, sucking the shaft deep into my mouth, collecting his little scrotum at the same time. I sandwiched the head between my tongue and the roof of my mouth, and then turned on the suction properly. I could feel the tool harden almost instantly, and Sam went over the top right away, thrusting his hips high in the air and clenching his teeth as he came, fists grabbing my hair and pulling until it was more than a little painful. I didn’t mind the odd bit of pain, though – I knew that the harder he was pulling, the better his orgasm was.
Sam was exhausted, but still had the presence of mind to holds his legs up to his chest, hands behind his knees, as I pulled his shorts the rest of the way off. The lube was out of my pocket in a flash, and my pants and shorts off and in a pile on the floor. We always seemed to have sex with our shoes on, looking back at it now. I guess we were a little more eager back then… Anyway, soon I was naked and sitting on the bed, lube on my fingers, rubbing around Sam’s little pucker. I hated hurting him when we were having sex – although my little dick wasn’t a monster by any stretch of the imagination, it still hurt him a bit if I wasn’t careful – so I always spent a bit of time fingering before I went for it. Sam’s pucker opened up nicely now he knew how to relax the right muscles, and before long I was plunging a finger in and out of what was now quite a loose rectum. In a flash I was on my knees between Sam’s legs, rubbing a bit of lube on my dick, and aiming the tip of my overhanging foreskin at his hole. Pushing forward slowly but continuously, I slid into him, revelling in the feeling of my foreskin being peeled back from the head of my dick as I pushed into the tight hole. Having the long skin was a blessing, as Sam’s tight hole rolled it on and off my dickhead repeatedly as I thrust into him, and soon I was rewarded with a growing tingly feeling in my crotch. I kept pumping, the feeling building and building, and within a few minutes I was about ready to spurt. Feeling particularly naughty, I pulled free of Sam’s arse and walked up his body on my knees until my dick was in front of his face. He knew what was coming, as I’d done this before, and opened wide as I started wanking off with the intention of shooting in his mouth. I came quickly, the come dribbling out of the end of my long foreskin and dripping into Sam’s waiting mouth. He waited until it was all in there before closing his mouth and swallowing with a smile.
We ended up using that old caravan quite a lot that year…

 

September brought with it a return to school, and because he was old enough now, Sam would be coming to the same school as I went to. Because we lived in the countryside, a bus had to come around and pick everyone up in the morning – it was a good few miles to the school, and we would have had to be up before dawn to make it on foot. Chatting on the bus to people from lower years than your own was usually considered ok, but it would have been social suicide to be seen with a younger boy once we’d passed through the school gates, so I had a tough choice to make. I found it hard to spend time away from Sam, and it would be even harder now that school had started, since most of the daytime would be spent in lessons. But on the other hand, I didn’t want to lose my friends either, and knew that if I spent too much time hanging around Sam, they’d quickly go off me.
Luckily, we managed to forge a compromise. Obviously during lessons it wasn’t a problem, and morning break time hardly had any structure, so I could sneak off and see Sam without anyone really noticing I was gone. It was lunchtime where we had to be clever, and we found the perfect disguise. There used to be huge games of football taking place every lunchtime, and the sides were rather fluid. Boys from several years tended to play, drifting in and out when they weren’t occupied with other kinds of play, and so it wasn’t unusual to be seen chatting to Sam when games were being played. That allowed us the freedom to spend some time together at lunchtimes, and we took advantage of it whenever we could.
Of course, the playing fields weren’t the only place Sam and I got together. At one end of the school building, near the headmaster’s office, was a boy’s toilet that was rarely used, probably because of its location. We would sneak in there one at a time and meet up in the stalls. There were two stalls with little holes carved between them so you could peep through and see your neighbours, and one hole so you could even see people’s dicks as they peed at the urinals. Of course, with the place being so underused, we rarely got the chance to peek at anyone else. We’d probably have been too tied up with each other to look, to be honest. As soon as we were secure in one of the stalls, we would be hugging, grinding hips and boners together, and kissing softly. Sam was always really horny before our first orgasms of the day, and would have his hands all over my backside, rubbing and squeezing as we kissed. There was typically a pattern, too – Sam really did like to get fucked, and I loved to have my slightly fatter dick up his bum, but first he would demand that I lick his hole a bit to loosen him up. It wasn’t my favourite of all the things we did, but the reaction it brought from Sam made it worthwhile every time. He would gasp, and clench his cheeks around my face over and over again as my tongue lapped at his hole. It usually didn’t take too much to loosen him up, and then it was time to find the lubricant one or other of us would have in their blazer pocket and stick a bit up his arse and some on my dick. I always took it slowly, revelling in the feeling of Sam’s arsehole pulling the foreskin back off the head of my dick. I loved that moment when my pubic hairs, all five or six of them, would finally crush against his smooth, white arse cheeks, and I would hold it there for a moment, looking down between us at the union of our bodies. Of course, fucking Sam would have been pointless without a little bit of thrusting, so that started fairly soon afterwards. I always came fucking Sam, and most of the time, though he would have to wank himself a bit, he would come too. He told me often how much he enjoyed the feeling of my strong little spurts firing into his arse, and since we typically got together to fuck in the morning break, he would take my semen with him to his lessons for the rest of the day. If we got together at lunchtime, he would always squeeze a little out and let me use it as lube to fuck him again ,which was, and still is, the most erotic thing a lover has ever done for me.
The one time we got caught fucking was the most memorable, for all the wrong reasons. We’d been in the toilets about five minutes and I was just sliding into Sam’s arse when we heard the toilet door bang open. This had happened before, a few times, and we always just calmly stood still, waiting for whoever it was to finish their business and leave. It wasn’t really that easy to tell that there were two boys in a stall unless you happened to be bending down looking under the door, so we didn’t really think it was likely that we would get caught. On this occasion, the boy came into the stall next to ours and shut the door. That had only happened once before, and always got our hearts racing, since the peephole between the stalls was right at eye height when you sat down. If the person on the other side looked through, we would definitely have been seen. My dick was balls-deep in Sam’s arse, and that would have been very visible from the other side of the wall.
My heart sank when I heard a gasp from the other stall. I knew for certain that we’d been spotted, which could only mean trouble. A few seconds later, a head appeared over the top of the stall. It was an old boy, about fifteen or sixteen. In my fear, my dick had gone soft and I’d fallen out of Sam. We both covered our privates and cowered against the far wall. The boy was older then us, probably fifteen or sixteen, which immediately made him our superior. I was scared shitless, because if this boy let the school know about us, our lives would be over. I didn’t mind admitting to myself that I was probably a gay, but admitting it to everyone else would have made staying at the school impossible. We would have been beaten up every day if people found out, and it was that realisation which led to Sam and I halting our activities at school.
This day, though, was to be lucky for us in one sense. The boy smiled down at us. There wasn’t a leer, or an evil grin, or a scowl, he just smiled, a warm, friendly smile.
‘I know what you’re thinking. I’m going to tell everyone, right?’
He was talking to me, obviously thinking that I was the lead partner in the relationship since my dick had been up Sam’s arse. I just nodded.
‘I’ll tell you what: I could do that, or we could come to an arrangement.’
‘What do you want to do?’ I asked softly.
‘How about you let me fuck your boyfriend there and I’ll forget I ever saw you.’
I was shocked. I mean, I knew Sam and I were a bit odd and liked each other that way, but a cool older boy? He seemed genuine, though, and we really didn’t want to get caught. I looked at Sam. There was a little fear in his eyes, but he just shrugged his shoulders resignedly and nodded to me.
‘Ok, but you have to promise not to tell anyone,’ I said to the boy.
I saw him grin once more, before his head disappeared and we heard the sound of his shoes hitting the floor as he jumped down off the toilet. His stall door opened, and I realised that I would have to open ours. We squeezed to the side, trying to get far enough out of the way of the door to let the boy in. It was tight in there with three people, but I found the situation oddly erotic. We didn’t have any time to waste, and the boy dropped his trousers immediately, pushing his pants down with them. He was already hard, and it was the biggest dick either Sam or I had ever seen. It must have been a good six inches long, with the foreskin stretched back over the head. There was a good patch of dark pubic hair at its base, though the rest of him wasn’t all that hairy. Sam was a little worried about the size of the boys dick, but didn’t really have a chance to complain as his hips were grabbed and he was spun round to face the back of the door. I didn’t want him to get hurt, so I made sure the boy lubed himself up before he tried to get in.
We were lucky. Sam was lucky, I should say. I had expected the sex to be rough, but as it turned out the boy was really quite gentle, easing himself very carefully into Sam’s arsehole. He stopped about half way in and started making little thrusts. Sam whimpered once or twice, and I could see him screwing his eyes shut in pain at first, but the boy’s technique soon began to loosen him up, and the thrusts became deeper, eventually bottoming out. Sam was taking six inches of teenage boy dick and seemed ok with it, which eased my concerns somewhat. I knew exactly how tight Sam’s arsehole was from fucking it myself, and knew that the older boy couldn’t last very long at the pace he was going. Sure enough, after only a couple of minutes of proper fucking, he groaned and thrust hard one last time, shooting deep inside Sam, who was wanking himself furiously in hope of getting off, which he just succeeded in doing as the boy softened and starting falling out. Sam’s hole was far too loose now to hold anything in, and the semen came flooding out, dripping off his cheeks and falling to the floor with loud splats. I quickly grabbed some toilet paper and wiped him up while the older boy pulled his pants up and zipped up. He left as quickly as he could get past us, looking guilty now, though he did stop to thank Sam and kiss him quickly on the forehead. Sam smiled weakly, though it was obvious he was in pain. I made sure he was clean, and could see his hole closing up again slowly. When Sam’s pants and trousers were back on, I grabbed him in a fierce hug and told him over and over how sorry I was. He just hugged back and cried softly into my shoulder. It was bad, but it could have been much, much worse.
That curtailed our activities at school. Sam claimed he was keen to carry on, but though I loved my daily sex, it wasn’t worth the possibility of getting caught again. We restricted our activities to our favourite caravan when we could get there, and to my room when we couldn’t. I think my brother was beginning to suspect something, but to his credit he didn’t say anything, didn’t make life difficult for us. He could have done, but I think he realised it wouldn’t achieve anything. Sam stayed over at least once a week now. I never went to his house, his parents were rarely around, both working shifts, and we weren’t allowed to be in the house together without them there. I loved to wake up in the morning with Sam spooned in behind me, slowly rubbing his dick up and down my crack. It was this time of day, on Saturday and Sundays mornings, when Sam would fuck me, taking his time, slowly lubing me up and entering, without fingering me first. It didn’t sting, he took it that slowly, and his dick wasn’t much bigger than a finger anyway. When we had sex this way, we really were making love. It was slow, languorous, perfect in every way. I could feel every single aspect of his nail-hard dick, the veins, the ridge of the head, the point where his scrotum met the skin at the base of his shaft, all of them rubbing slowly backwards and forwards through the sensitive ring of my arse. The build-up was excruciating, but going over the edge was beyond compare. Sam would go slow for half an hour or more, steadily working me up until I couldn’t take it any more. He couldn’t stand the tension either, and would start pumping faster and harder in order to take us over the brink and into nirvana. Most of the time Sam cupped a hand in front of my dick, and with the foreskin covering the end my semen would shoot into it and then dribble slowly out. He would catch the emission and then lift the hand to his mouth, licking up my few drops. I could never really stomach my own semen, but Sam seemed to love the taste. He always used to say that it was going to go in one end or the other, but he was definitely going to have it in him.
After making love in the morning, our appetites would be pretty much sated for the next few hours, and we could get on with the task of being young boys. There was always a feeling that at any point we could snap and need to be together again, but a lot of the time we let it simmer beneath the surface and just played instead. The great thing about being that age and being in love was that we had all the time in the world to explore each other as people. Not having to worry about all those things that occupy you as an adult meant hours to play, to enjoy each other’s company, to discover things we didn’t know about each other. I new what wound Sam up, and he knew exactly what it took to make me laugh. I learnt what scared him, and he learnt what made me happy. We spent so much time together and understood each other’s moods so well that it wasn’t just my brother who was beginning to be a little suspicious of our relationship. My father took me to one side wine Saturday to have a little chat with me. I was always somewhat scared of my father, because he was the parent who disciplined me when I’d been bad. This time I couldn’t quite work out what he was going to tell me off for, since I’d been fairly much incapable of being bad since Sam and I had started spending so much time together. He seemed rather uncomfortable, too, which made me really wonder why we were alone in the garden shed having a talk.
‘Uh, Jamie, I think we need to have a bit of a chat about a couple of things,’ he said, eyes avoiding meeting mine. We’d already had the birds and bees talk, and my father hadn’t been quite so nervous then. I really began to worry now.
‘Look, it’s like this. Er… your mother and I have noticed that you spend a lot of time with Sam lately. He’s a good friend, huh?’
I just nodded. My tongue had suddenly swollen and I couldn’t speak properly.
‘That’s, er, that’s great, son. We’re happy that you have such a good friend. I mean, you don’t make friends too easily around here. It can’t be easy being a boy your age with so few others in the village.’
I nodded again. It looked like that was going to be my stock response today.
‘It’s just that sometimes it’s possible to spend a little too much time with one person. I wouldn’t want you to go off each other. And people sometimes get the wrong impression, if you only spend time with one person. Just be careful you don’t give people the wrong impression, ok? Boys your age can be… unaccepting of certain things. Your mother and I think it’s great that you have such a good friend, ok?’
And that was it. I wasn’t quite sure what my dad had just said, but I had a good idea at what he was getting at. Somewhere, buried in amongst the saying nothing was a lot of saying something. I think he’d just said that it was ok for Sam and I to be together, but that we should be careful of what other people thought. It was a sobering realisation that my parents really did know what was going on, and I found myself blushing with the realisation that they must have talked about Sam and I as a couple. I always thought my father was a bit of an authoritarian figure, but he’d shown great care and subtlety in what he was saying, and it must have taken guts for him to come out and actually say something like that to his son. My younger brother, Mark, had always been his favourite, there was no hiding that, but there was still a great deal of affection behind that hardened exterior. I met Sam in town that afternoon with a heightened sense of wellbeing, and explained to him what my father had said. Sam’s face went from shock, to surprise, and then downright awe. He kept asking me over and over again if I was really telling the truth, and kept asking exactly what my father had said to see if he could find a new angle on it. But what he couldn’t deny was the truth there, that we really would have to be careful .I didn’t think I was gay, I only knew that I loved Sam and he loved me. Right then, that was all I needed to know. I think we both understood the stigma attached to our kind of relationship, and that if it were discovered that we considered ourselves boyfriends, then there would be hell to pay. We’d already had one close shave, and hadn’t really changed ourselves from that experience. I think we suddenly came to the realisation that although not a lot of what we did had to change, we really needed to consider being a lot more careful than we had been. We’d even started holding hands in the dark in the cinema, which if we’d got caught doing would have instantly spelled trouble. Finding somewhere we could talk openly and frankly to each other about what was needed wasn’t a problem – the library was deserted, and though quiet was required inside, there was a room for kids which allowed quiet talking. We made our way there and found it, as expected, entirely deserted. Taking care not to sit too close to each other, with our newfound carefulness winning out over the desire to lean into each other, we discussed what we could keep in our relationship, and what had to go. It was your basic set of stuff, really. A bed would at least have to be made up when Sam was staying over, just for the sake of appearances, even if it wasn’t slept in. Holding hands in public and standing too close together would have to go, although we decided to keep the occasional trips to the toilets together when we thought we could get away with it. Spending a lot of time together at school was also beginning to be a problem – we’d both forgotten that it wasn’t exactly a great idea to be spending all lunchtime together, so we made a pact to remind each other to spend more time with friends from our own years.
The talk was boring and slightly depressing, but necessary. And of course, when we were done there was the chance to risk one of those toilet trips we so loved. The library was a perfect place for it – not only were there very few people there, but the male toilets were well separated from the female and all the librarians were ladies, so it wasn’t even visited by the staff. A rota on the back of the door into the toilets told me that it was cleaned once daily, at 9am, and after that was pretty much free to use for our pleasure. There were two stalls and a long trough urinal .The stalls were fairly new, and so there weren’t spy holes between them, much to our relief after the incident at school. As soon as we were through the door, Sam was messing around, pulling an already-hard dick out through his fly and waggling it about in front of me. Feeling adventurous, I grabbed him to make him stand still then sank to my knees to engulf his nail-hard erection into my mouth. Already we were breaking our own rules, and fairly quickly realised it, laughing as we rushed into a stall to make things properly private. I went back to sucking Sam’s dick, getting it nice and wet before dropping my pants and presenting him with my arse. I really wanted to be fucked right then for some reason. In fact, I’d been wanting it ever since I met Sam in town, maybe ever since my dad had spoken to me that morning. As he lined his dick up and pushed forward, Sam’s lips came into contact with the back of my neck, and he kissed all over it, and then onto my shoulders as he started to pump in and out. His hand snaked around to my front and grabbed my dick, and when he started pumping it hard and thrusting into me fast I knew this was going to be a rough one. Even though Sam’s dick was small, it still hurt to have it really nailed into me, as we weren’t exactly using the best lube. Normally I would have been a little turned off, but right now I needed it, and accepted Sam’s thrusting, letting the feeling build inside me all the time. When I came, it sparked Sam off, and he actually grunted as he came. He pulled his dick out for the last few spasms and wanked it really hard, a technique that he seemed to really love. I had spurted a little, and since my skin was pulled back as we both came, it had landed on the door of the stall, and was running down a little. I almost left it there to be found by the cleaner, but really I was a well brought up boy, and got some paper to clean it up with. Sam smiled at me when I turned to face him.
‘I suppose these new rules aren’t so bad after all,’ he said to me, his smile turning into a wide grin.

Epilogue

I had at this point expected to continue writing about Sam and myself. About the way, a year later, he finally had his first wet orgasm. Or the day, when I was fourteen and Sam thirteen, that we came out to both sets of parents after a blazing row at a family barbeque, and the fallout from that day. About how hard it was to be, to paraphrase Little Britain, the only gays in the village. Or the day, when I was seventeen, that we pledged ourselves to each other, getting illegal tattoos of an intertwined ring symbol on our shoulders. Or perhaps the time, not so long ago, that we were finally accepted as viable parents on an adoption scheme, and our boy Nathaniel turned up to shatter the peace and quiet of our lives.

But none of these things seem important. In their own way, they tell the stories of our lives, but they don’t define the relationship. It was that first year of knowing each other which defined the rest of our lives together, that set our course. Now, fifteen years later, with a three year old boy running our lives, I’ve said all that needs saying. It’s time to let it rest. I leave you with this one hope – if you’ve never found the person who completes me in the way that Sam does, don’t give up just yet. Out there, somewhere, is your hope, your chance, the one who makes it all make sense. Just don’t give up looking.