Juggling the Pieces
by Pink Panther
Chapter 11
October 2010
It's Friday afternoon. The last nine days seem to have flown past. Compared with what came before, they have been quite uneventful. I've been working, running, and spending time with Scott, which is pretty much what I do.
The only weird thing is that it's like Zav's been airbrushed out of history. Following the lecture from Mr Carter, nobody even mentions him. It's almost as though he never existed.
I head out of school, looking forward to having a week off, with time to relax and catch up on a few things. Looking back, my first half term as an A-level student has gone well. I've still got plenty to do before I'm totally on top of A-level maths, but I seem to have everything else under control. And I absolutely love the history we're doing. Mr Anderson is such an inspirational teacher; I'm beginning to get a real insight into how and why things developed as they did.
After spending the late afternoon with Scott, he drives me home. Even though he's got a home match tomorrow, he's still expected to be in bed by ten o'clock. Once he's had a meal, he'll just relax for the rest of the evening.
After Mum and I have had dinner, I head up to my room, intending just to chill out. I've not been there long when I get a call. It's Franny.
"Hi!" he says. "How's it been going?"
"Pretty good, thanks! You?"
"Yeah, it's been good! I did my grade 8 clarinet exam last week, so now I'm waiting for the results. It should be okay though. Are you off school next week?"
"Yeah."
"Any chance I can come over?"
I hesitate. Any other week since the start of term, the answer would have been a firm no. But on Tuesday evening, Scott's got a match, away to Burnley. He'll be gone all day.
"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to," he suggests, my hesitation having given me away.
"Okay, I'll hold you to that," I tell him. "But it'll have to be Tuesday. It's my only free day."
"Cool! Will you be able to meet me at the same time then?"
"Sure! Ring me first thing Tuesday morning to confirm, yeah? Don't call Monday evening; I'll be with my boyfriend."
We end the call. Yet again, I'm annoyed with myself. I should have just said no, and that would have been the end of it. But I didn't. Now I've committed myself to letting him come here again.
Having turned thirteen last month, Franny's nearly four year younger than me, but you wouldn't know. He's intelligent and lively; just great fun to be with. The truth is, I'm looking forward to seeing him. But there's an elephant in the room. I know he said that we don't have to do anything, but having experienced his powers of persuasion once, I can't be sure that that's how things will work out.
It's Saturday evening. Dad and I are sitting on the sofa at Scott's flat, waiting for Match of the Day to come on. Earlier in the day, Reavington Town recorded a three-nil victory against one of the weaker sides in the division, with Scott scoring one of the goals, so we're all in a good mood.
Having left the room for a moment, Scott reappears carrying the two pictures that he's had framed. I love the way they've been done, with simple black frames.
"Do you recognise these?" he asks, handing them to Dad.
"Of course!" Dad answers, smiling. "They're this young rascal's handiwork! I must say, these frames set them off really well! I'm impressed!"
"Would you like to pick one to take home?"
"That's very generous of you!" Dad says.
He selects the watercolour, leaving a picture done in pastels to be put up in the flat. With a few minutes to go before the start of MOTD, the three of us settle down again.
"Ian tells me that you study some of the top players, to see what you can learn from them," Dad says, turning to Scott.
"Yes," he replies, "but not just any top players. I've always been conscious of being small. When I was ten and trying to get into a junior academy, several clubs turned me down because I wasn't big enough. So I've always studied the smaller players, to see what made them good. When I was younger, my hero was Michael Owen. These days, he's a bit chunkier than I am, but he's the same height as me. And with him being quick and skilful, he was my inspiration. A bit later, I moved onto looking at other small players, like Iniesta and Messi, who play for Barcelona. Messi's a total genius! I'm not sure I'll ever be as good as he is, but he's set the bar. That's the standard I need to aim for. There are others too, like David Silva, who's just joined Man City, and a young Belgian guy, Eden Hazard, who plays for Lille in the French league. There's talk of him joining a top Premier League club in a year or two. I study what these guys do and how they train. Basically, I want to know how they've become as good as they are."
"That makes sense," Dad responds. "After all, you're never going to play like, say, Didier Drogba, who's 6'2" and big with it." He pauses for a moment. "From what I've seen of you on television," he continues, "you're very skilful, but you hardly showboat at all."
"I don't have time for that!" Scott says, grinning. "I get paid to help the team score goals. If I've got the ball and there's a defender on me, I want to beat the guy as fast as I can. If I spend two seconds showboating, that's two seconds for his teammates to get themselves organised. That's not what I want; I want to keep them under pressure, because that's when people make mistakes."
"Works for me!" Dad agrees, smiling.
It's Sunday, half past twelve. I'm up in my bedroom. This morning's training run was the best yet. It's not just that we were running well; there was a real sense of togetherness, even with Dean, who's still struggling to get fit. We enjoy each other's company, everyone's feeling positive, and we're looking forward to the rest of the season.
Looking further ahead, the news is even better. It seems that the Year 10 training squad that Mr Saunders has put together includes two very talented runners, Niall Taylor, who's Will's brother, and Shaun McNally. If everyone stays healthy, next season, we should have a really good team.
After getting showered and changed, I head downstairs for Sunday lunch.
"Mum," I announce. "This week, Scott's going to start teaching me to cook. Monday, Wednesday and Thursday, we're going to cook dinner together. He'll show me what to do, and give me all the instructions. He says that when I go back to school, on Mondays and Thursdays, when I come straight home after cross-country training, I should cook dinner to give me some practice."
"I think Ian's just made you an offer you can't refuse," Dad says, grinning.
"So what brought this on?" Mum asks.
"Well, if Scott and I do end up living together, I need to be able to pull my weight. I'll probably have more time than he will. Even if we don't, I ought to be able to look after myself."
"I wish Claire had shown this level of interest," Mum says, shaking her head. "She wouldn't boil an egg if she could help it."
I grin, but say nothing. I'm not going to badmouth Claire, but the way she used to avoid anything to do with cooking wasn't one of her better moves. After all, she's having to do it now.
"You've remembered that we're going to the parents' group on Tuesday, haven't you?" Mum goes on.
"Yes, of course! I'm really looking forward to it. It's going to be so much better without Max and his mother. I'll cook dinner for us then too."
"I've been talking to Beth," Mum says. "I understand Robbie's doing much better, which is a big relief."
"Really?" I say, suddenly realising that I haven't spoken to him for months. "That's great news! I must call him."
With lunch over, I load up the dishwasher before heading back up to my room. Taking out my phone, I call Robbie's number.
"Hi, babe!" he greets. "I haven't heard from you in ages!"
"Sorry; I've been really busy. Anyway, I thought you were going to call me during the summer holidays?"
"I was, but I got a holiday job. Only working in Sainsbury's, but it was pretty tiring. I was always knackered by the time I got home."
"Oh, right!"
"I must have done okay though, because I'm now working there on Saturdays. It means I can earn my own pocket money, without having to ask Mum."
"It seems our mums have been chatting," I tell him. "I believe you're doing much better."
"Oh, definitely! Well, I didn't have much choice really, but the big difference is that I've met somebody."
"Really? That's awesome!"
"Noah is in two of my classes. It only took us a couple of weeks to know that we were right for each other. Well, he's a worker; a bit like you, I guess. Being with someone like that has helped a lot. It's weird, though. Now that I've actually got into the college work, I'm enjoying it far more than I used to."
"Oh, that's brilliant! I was hoping something like that would happen. No wonder your mum's pleased!"
"Oh, she loves Noah to bits! His mum and dad are really nice too. It's like I've become part of their family, and Noah has become part of ours."
"Cool! I hear you had a right dust-up with Max."
"Oh, she was vile! I finally realised what a bossy queen she is! I'm well rid of her!"
"Good for you!" I congratulate, reflecting that I can't imagine myself ever referring to a boy as female, no matter how effeminate he is.
"Did you hear about what his mum said to my mum?" he goes on.
"I heard it wasn't pleasant."
"Oh, she was even worse, the old cow! I don't know who she thinks she is! I don't care what Max says to me, but her talking to Mum like that made me so angry!"
"I can imagine. Your mum's cool."
"In one way, I'm sorry I ever met Max," he says, calming down a little. "But actually, I'm glad I did. It sort of made me grow up."
"Yeah, definitely," I respond, knowing exactly where he's coming from.
"You are coming on Tuesday, aren't you?"
"Yeah, of course! I'm really looking forward to it."
"Great! You'll be able to meet Noah then. He'll be there with his mum and dad."
As we end the call, I'm totally buzzing. That was such a different Robbie I just talked to. Just as I'd hoped, he's found someone who actually cares about him, rather than just using him the way that Max did.
It's Monday afternoon. I arrive at Scott's flat just before three. I'm really looking forward to this. Instead of our usual hour and a bit, we've got the rest of the day together. Even so, it's not long before we find our way to the bedroom. I'm super-horny, and by the looks of things, Scott is too.
We begin to undress each other. I love this! Scott's touch is amazing; firm, but gentle and sensuous. He's turning me on more than ever. With our tops removed, he runs his fingers over my chest and begins to massage my nipples. My penis twitches in response. I have no clue how that happens; it just does.
Suddenly, he leans forwards, taking my left nipple into his mouth. Having licked it for a few seconds, he begins nibbling on it. Whoa! My dick almost explodes! Fuck! I never expected that! After a few seconds, he lets me go.
"Sensitive, huh?" he whispers.
"Yeah!" I respond quietly.
Sitting on the side of the bed, he unties the drawstring of my training pants and carefully pulls them down. I pull them off. Once again, I'm wearing the footie shorts he gave me instead of underpants. Running his hands up the backs of my legs, he pushes his fingers inside my shorts, working his way upwards until he's gripping my arse-cheeks.
"Oh, you sexy boy!" he breathes excitedly. "Is that what you want? It is, isn't it? You want me to fuck you in your shorts!"
"Yes!" I tell him.
We know immediately. There will be no more foreplay and only minimal preparation. Given how long we've got, we could have taken far longer to reach this point, but that's not how it's worked out. We don't just want this; we want it now!
I bend over the bed, my feet apart, my hands resting on the mattress, while Scott pushes his jeans and underwear down to his ankles. A moment later, he's standing behind me, pushing a well-lubed finger into my bum-hole. After finger-fucking me for a few seconds, he lets it slide out.
Having smeared K-Y over his dick, he slips it inside the leg of my shorts and onto my anal ring. With one well-practised thrust, he stuffs it in.
"Oh, yeah!" I gasp. "That feels so good! Come on, Scott! You know what I want!"
He does not disappoint. Within seconds, he's fucking me remorselessly, his beautiful cock driving repeatedly over my prostate.
"Oh yes!" he rasps. "Sexy boy! This is what you want, isn't it?"
I'm so far off on it, I'm reduced to moaning and gurgling.
With my shorts stretched tight over my prick, a small wet patch begins to grow at the front, the tingling sensations becoming stronger with every thrust. In a little more than a minute, they're almost unbearable.
Suddenly, I buck uncontrollably, my muscles wracked by crazy spasms. In the next instant, the small wet patch becomes a large sticky one as I ejaculate in my shorts.
"Oh, fuck!" Scott growls. "You've done it again!"
Gripping me around the tops of my thighs, he buries his cock as deep as he can, his hot teen spunk spurting over and over into my sex-tunnel. After a short pause, he gently pulls out.
"Wow!" he gasps. "That was unreal!"
"Amazing!" I agree, standing upright. "I'll see you in a couple of minutes."
Having made my way to the bathroom, I pull off my shorts and rinse them out, leaving them on the towel rail to dry. After getting myself clean, I return to the bedroom. Scott's lying on the bed, naked. I join him. As I snuggle up, he wraps his arms around me, drawing me close.
"Wow!" he breathes. "That was hot!" He pauses for a moment. "Most of the time, I prefer do to what we usually do. But just occasionally, that definitely spices things up! And I know you like it!"
"Sure! That's cool!"
For some time, we lie where we are, simply enjoying being together, Scott gently stroking my hair. It is so relaxing! Without really thinking about it, I begin to check out his nipples. They're quite a bit bigger than mine, and darker.
Taking a leaf out of his book, I run my hand over his chest and start massaging the left one. It's not something I've ever done before. None of the other guys I've been with has even suggested it.
"Mmmmm!" he purrs. "That's nice!"
Encouraged, I lean across and take it into my mouth, gently licking it.
"Ohhh, babe!" he moans. "That's beautiful!"
I don't care that it's not actually doing anything for me. It's a buzz to know that I'm turning him on. Finally, I give it nip, just like he did earlier.
"Oh, fuck!" he gasps. "Oh, yeah!"
I let him go. He turns towards me, grinning from ear to ear.
"That your first time?" he asks.
"Yeah."
"Nice! That was wonderful!"
It's a major surprise. I get the thing with your prostate and your dick, because they're close together. But your nipples and your dick? That's weird! We lie there for ages, gently stroking and caressing each other. Finally, Scott checks his watch.
"Half past five!" he declares. "Time for a cooking lesson!"
We pull on some clothes. With my shorts still drying in the bathroom, I have no choice but to go commando. We stroll into the kitchen.
"What are we having?" I ask.
"Poached salmon fillets with new potatoes and watercress," he says. "Very simple and very healthy."
Over the next thirty minutes, he patiently takes me through it. It really is very easy. Finally, he places the two salmon fillets into the simmering broth that he's made.
"You need to make sure that it's not too hot," he warns. "You shouldn't see any more than the occasional bubble, otherwise the fish will go tough."
A little over five minutes later, we're eating it. Although it's not something that Mum cooks, I like it. More to the point, it's something I'll definitely be able to cook. After having fresh fruit for dessert, I help Scott with the washing-up.
Just before seven o'clock, we move to the lounge and snuggle up on the sofa. With music playing quietly in the background, we simply chill out. Around half an hour later, he turns to me.
"Well, are you up for round two?" he asks. "Something a bit more civilised this time."
"You mean our usual?"
"Sure!"
"D'you want to do it now?"
"Yes, ideally. I've got a long day tomorrow. I could do with getting an early night."
"Cool!"
"Will you be able to cum this time?" he asks.
It's almost four hours since the last time I came. That's plenty of time.
"Definitely!" I reply, grinning confidently.
"Come on then!" he urges, helping me to my feet. "I love it when you shoot your spunk all over us!"
After half an hour of the most exquisite foreplay, we finally get down to it, kissing and fucking like it's the only thing that matters, and right at this moment, it probably is. After a couple of minutes, I cum, my spunk coating our bodies. Right on cue, he returns the favour, filling my bum for the second time today. It's perfect! I simply couldn't ask for anything more.
It's Tuesday morning, half past eight. I've just finished breakfast when I get a call.
"Hi, man!" Franny says with characteristic enthusiasm. "Everything okay?"
"Sure!
"Okay, I'll see you later!"
With nothing urgent that I need to do, I spend almost two hours drawing before heading into town. It's a fairly average day for late October, the light cloud cover occasionally punctuated by hazy sunshine.
After getting off the bus, I stroll to the station. Once again, I'm a few minutes early. As I wait, I wonder what the day has in store. Having only been off school for a few days, maybe Franny won't be as horny as he was last time. If his friend Arlo's been looking after him, he might be happy for us to just hang out and chat.
Somehow, I don't think that's very likely. Even though he said we didn't have to do anything, I'm pretty sure he'll want us to. And when I say no, just like before, he'll come up with all sorts of reasons for me to say yes. But there's nothing I can do about it now. I'll just have to see how it goes.
The train arrives right on time. Less than a minute later, Franny saunters through the ticket barrier. As the weather's cooler than it was at the end of August, he's wearing a navy-blue Adidas hoodie and snugly-fitting blue jeans, with the same Asics trainers he wore last time.
"Hi man!" he greets, his hazel eyes sparkling. "Good to see you!"
Not only is he very good-looking, he radiates energy and enthusiasm like nobody I've ever met. You can almost touch it.
"Hi!" I respond. "Do you want to come back to the house, or would you rather do something else?"
"Let's go back to the house," he says, smiling. "You can tell me all about what you've been up to."
We head to the bus station for the journey back to Whitecroft. Throughout our journey, Franny fires questions at me about my A-level studies and my running, all stuff that I'm happy to answer.
"So how did your clarinet exam go?" I ask, not wanting to be outdone.
"Okay, I think. I'm hoping for a distinction. That's what I got last time."
"Wow! Isn't grade eight really high for someone your age?"
"For clarinet it probably is, because you can't start playing it until you're about nine. But it's the standard I need to be at if I'm hoping to do it professionally."
"Oh, right! Are you still hoping to go to that school in Manchester that you were telling me about?"
"Chetham's? Yes, I think so. Musically, it's the right choice. The only thing is that I'd have to board again. I've been boarding since I was eight. I'm not complaining. We have lots of fun with everything that's going on. But I'd still rather live at home, like 'normal' kids do."
"Well, I guess you can't have everything!"
"Tell me about it! Actually, the worst part of being at boarding school is the holidays. It's so boring, not having anyone to hang out with. If I do go to Chetham's, I'll have to get that sorted out."
We've reached our bus stop. Getting off, we start the short walk towards the house.
"Do your mum and dad know you're gay?" Franny asks, completely changing tack.
"Yes," I say confidently. "I told them the Christmas before last. I had to really. All my friends at school knew. I didn't want Mum and Dad hearing it from someone else."
"So how did that go?"
"Mum took it really hard at first, like she totally hadn't seen it coming. Things are much better now. This evening, Mum and I are going to a support group for parents with gay kids. That's helped a lot."
"Whose idea was that?"
"Mine. We've been going there for a year. To start with, Claire and I had to push Mum into taking me, but once she got there, it was fine. She gets on really well with the lady that runs the group, which helps."
"Cool! So what about your dad?"
"Oh, he got it pretty much straightaway, but he was in a difficult position, with him working away all the time. But that's all sorted."
We arrive at the house.
"So do they know about your boyfriend?" Franny asks as I let us in.
"Yeah. At first, Mum thought I was too young to have a boyfriend, but they're both fine with it now. Of course, it helps that they like him." We stroll through to the kitchen. "Tea or coke?"
"Coke please," he says, taking a seat at the table.
I pour two glasses of coke and join him.
"I guess your boyfriend's working today," Franny suggests.
"Yeah, I won't be able to see him till tomorrow."
"So isn't he working tomorrow, then?"
"Yes, but usually he's back home by half past two. Today he's working away and won't be back till late."
"That's weird!" he says, looking me right in the eye. "What on earth does he do? Your Mum and Dad like him, so it can't be anything moody. Why the big secret?"
Once again, I'm annoyed with myself. I'd been trying to avoid this, but with a little help from Franny, I've just painted myself into a corner. I meet his eyes.
"If I tell you, you must absolutely promise not to repeat it."
"No problem! I've nobody to tell anyway."
"I first met him at school," I say quietly, keeping my eyes locked on Franny's "He was in Claire's form. I met him because we were both in the choir, yeah? Well, after doing his GCSEs, instead of staying on to do his A-levels, he left to become a professional footballer."
"Fuck!" Franny hisses. "No wonder you're keeping it quiet! Man, my lips are sealed, like totally! So where is he today?"
"This evening, they've got an away match at Burnley."
"So, was that what he was doing when I came here before?"
"Not exactly. He was away with the England under-21 squad."
"If I didn't know you," he says quietly. "I'd think you were blagging, but that's just not you. He must be really good then?"
"Yeah. Back when he was in Year 10, he played for England Schoolboys."
"Wow! So what's he like?"
"Well, I think he's great, but I would say that, wouldn't I? For a start, he's not all football. He did his A-levels at college. He got an A* for economics, an A for maths and a B for history. And back when he was at school, he sang in the choir and played the trumpet. He got up to grade 7 before he left."
"And nice looking, of course. I guess that goes without saying!"
"Very much so! He's not all that tall: 5'8", which is quite small for a professional footballer, but he's got a wonderful body, a bit like a bigger version of yours. Brown eyes, dark wavy hair and gets an amazing tan."
"Nice! Is there anything he isn't good at?"
"Running long distances; he reckons he's useless!"
"Me too!" Franny confesses, grinning. "Can we go up to your room?"
"Yeah, if you want."
We head up to my bedroom.
"So how's your singing going?" I ask.
"Well, I'm hanging on, just about," he says. "I'm determined to make it to the Christmas carol concert, but I can't see me being asked to sing again after that."
"That's what happened to me," I explain. "Just as I turned thirteen, my voice dropped like a stone. I haven't been able to sing properly since. So how are you and your 'friend' getting on?"
"You mean Arlo?" he queries. "Oh, we're cool! I showed him how to stroke the skin behind my balls, so he does it for me and I do it for him. It's awesome!"
"Nice!"
"Yeah! I really want to fuck him, but he says he's not ready."
"Well, take your time. How have you been preparing him?"
"I stick my finger up his bum while I'm sucking him off."
"What lube do you use?"
"I don't. I just spit on my finger. D'you reckon I should use Vaseline or something then?"
"Vaseline's okay, but this is better," I say, producing a tube of K-Y from my sports bag. "You can get it in Boots. You'll find it by the condoms and stuff. Just take it up to the counter and pay for it. It won't be a problem."
"Cool!"
"Your cock's getting thicker now, so you'll probably need to get him used to taking two fingers before you try giving him the real thing."
"Nice! So d'you fancy, . . . you know?"
"Franny," I object. "You said we didn't have to do that."
"Come on, man!" he protests. "You got us talking about sex. That made me horny. It always does. Then you say you don't want to do anything! That's so not fair!" He pauses for a second. "In any case, that's not what the bulge in your training pants says!" he adds, running his fingers over it. "So what's the problem?"
Shit! I've done it again! When I asked him how he was getting on with Arlo, I thought I was just making conversation.
"The problem is that I'd be cheating on my boyfriend."
"Does your boyfriend, whatever his name is, know I've come here today?"
"His name's Scott, and no, he doesn't."
"So it's not a problem at all, is it? We have a bit of fun, and he'll be none the wiser."
"It's still cheating."
"Don't you think you're taking this a bit too seriously? You're not even seventeen yet. You should be having fun!"
"Because of the situation Scott's in, it has to be serious."
"Yeah, I can sort of understand that. But as long as nobody finds out, there's no harm done, is there? Come on, man! You know you want to!"
And that's the bottom line. I do want to. I'm sixteen years old and get horny at the drop of a hat. In the presence of a cute boy like Franny, thoughts of sex are never far away. It's those powers of persuasion again. If Franny doesn't make it as a professional musician, he ought to become a salesman. He'd make a fortune.
Without another word, we discard our shoes and socks. We stand up, facing each other. I help Franny remove his hoodie and the polo shirt he's wearing under it. He returns the favour.
I sit on the bed. With Franny standing in front of me, I open the top of his jeans and skin them down his legs, allowing him to pull them over his feet. I take in the sight, his legs just like a junior version of Scott's. He's now dressed only in a pair of black boxer-briefs that fit him like a second skin. I pull those down too. He's got more pubes than he had two months ago, but there's no other obvious change. Wow! For a newly-minted thirteen-year old, he is stunning!
Leaning forwards, I run my tongue up his shaft and over the partially exposed head. After a second or two, I take it into my mouth, steadily working my way down until I'm sucking it right down to the root. It feels sublime, so hard, so wonderfully smooth, and bristling with pent-up energy.
With Franny running his fingers through my hair, I worship it, make love to it; working my tongue over the small, shiny head before plunging back down and thrusting my tongue out to lick his balls. Slipping my hand between his thighs, I gently stroke his perineum. He moans with pleasure. Finally, sensing that he's getting close, I let him go.
We swap places. Franny quickly lowers my training pants. I pull them off. Underneath, I'm wearing my black Umbro football shorts.
Having untied the drawstring, Franny pulls them down too.
"Going commando, huh?" he queries.
"Sort of," I respond, stepping out of them. "I like the way they feel against my cock."
Moments later, my dick's in his mouth. OMG! He was very good at this the last time he was here. Now that he's learned how to massage my perineum, he's even better! The sensations are out of this world!
"Uggghhh!" I groan. "You'd better stop! I'll cum if you keep that up!"
Having allowed my glistening prick to slide out of his mouth, Franny sits up, licking his lips. We get onto the bed. I'm expecting us to get straight into a sixty-nine, but instead, he snuggles right up to me. Wrapping my arms around him, I run my hands down his back, enjoying the feel of his developing muscles. He'll have an amazing physique when he's a bit older.
"Ian," he whispers. "Can I fuck you?"
"No chance!" I tell him.
"I bet Scott does."
"Yes, he does as a matter of fact," I say firmly. "Not that it's any of your business. And it's his exclusive privilege. I'm not letting anyone else do that, not even you, right?"
"That's cool," he says, grinning. "If you don't ask, you don't get! Shall we do a sixty-nine then?"
"Sure! Let's do it!"
Snaking around I get into position, with both of us on our left sides, the same as we were last time. Oh, fuck! With him tickling my perineum and me doing his, it's like the best one ever! It's totally wild, and I'm so into it, I hardly know where I am!
I guess with two such horny teens, it was never going to last long. After barely half a minute, I'm aware of his muscles going into spasm. A moment later, his penis jerks into action, his tangy boy-juice squirting onto my tongue. In less than two seconds, I follow suit, rope after rope of hot teen spunk shooting powerfully into Franny's waiting mouth. Wow! As a physical experience, oral sex doesn't get any better than that!
Of course, that was really all it was. I mean, I like Franny a lot; I think he's a great kid. In fact, I can't envisage having sex with someone I don't like. But Franny and I don't have the sort of connection that I have with Scott. That's just how it is.
After a short pause, we carefully disconnect. "So how was that?" I ask.
"Awesome!" he says, grinning. "What about you?"
"Amazing!"
"You didn't make as much spunk this time."
"That's probably because I had sex twice yesterday, once when Scott got back from training, and again after we'd had dinner."
"Lucky sod! Surely you couldn't have done that here?"
"No, Scott's got his own flat near the town centre."
"Wow! That is well cool!"
"Yeah, it needed a complete refurb before he could move in. I designed it all for him. That's sort of how we got together."
"Right!"
"A few years ago, when we were going to redo Claire's bedroom, I designed that. I'll show you if you like."
"Sure!"
With us both still naked, I lead the way into Claire's room.
"I like it, man!" he says approvingly. "How old were you when you did this?"
"Thirteen."
"And you designed it all?"
"Yeah. Then Dad and I spent the first week of the summer holiday doing the work."
"Right! So what was it like before?"
"Oh, it was a real little girl's room. There were pink bunnies all over the walls."
"That's funny!" he says, grinning. "No wonder she wanted it changed! I can't imagine her in a room like that. Come on, we'd better get dressed!"
Back in my room, we start to pull on our clothes.
"Ian," Franny asks. "Will you show me some of your pictures? You never showed me any last time."
"You didn't ask." I respond.
Taking out my art folder, I show him the work I did while I was in France.
"Man!" he says, his eyes widening. "You are good! Any chance I could have one?"
"Sure, pick any one you like. You can't take it with you today though. I mean, how would you explain how you got it? I'll put it in an envelope and bring it with me when we come to yours on Boxing Day."
"Yeah, cool! I hadn't thought of that."
"Would you like to see some drawings that I did a few years ago?" I ask quietly as he hands me the picture he's selected.
"Sure!"
I hand him my 'private' sketchbook. He begins to leaf through it, starting with the characters from Harry Potter.
"Fuck!" he says, grinning. "You have been using your imagination! At least I hope you have! I'd no idea you did stuff like this! It's very good! I can just imagine them looking like that!"
Finally, he reaches the ones he doesn't recognise.
"Whoa!" he declares, his eyes out on stalks. "Who the fuck is that! He is well hot!"
"It's the boy who played the lead in a television production of Tom Brown's Schooldays about six years ago. I think he was thirteen at the time. Have you got a DVD player?"
"Sure."
"I'll bring it with me on Boxing Day. It's well worth watching!"
"Thanks, man!"
Over lunch, there's more animated conversation. Afterwards, we head into town. I take him to the cathedral, which he reckons is quite different from the one where he sings. He'd have liked to test the acoustics, but decided it probably wasn't a good idea. Finally, we stroll back to the station so that he can get the train for the first leg of his journey home.
As I take the bus back to Whitecroft, I'm, like, seriously conflicted. I've had a fantastic day. Franny's so full of life and energy; he's an absolute joy to be with. The downside is that I find it almost impossible to say no to him. As a result, I've cheated on Scott again. That's not good. Oh, I didn't let Franny go as far as he'd have liked, but I was never going to allow that. Apart from anything else, Scott might have noticed. Then the shit would have been right in the fan.
As usual, we're due to visit Franny's family on Boxing Day, but with more than a dozen people in the house, there's no way that Franny and I will be able to do anything. That means the earliest that the problem can recur is during the February half term. That's a long way off.
Back at home, I set about preparing dinner. I'm doing grilled pork chops seasoned with black pepper and mixed herbs, new potatoes, fine beans and carrots, which is pretty simple. For dessert, we'll have apple pie with ice cream. Okay, the apple pie came from the supermarket, but with Mum working full-time, there's no way I could expect her to make one. That's just how it is.
At half past five, Mum appears.
"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes," I tell her.
"Good boy!" she says appreciatively. "I'll just go and freshen up. You know, I thought it'd be Claire who'd start showing an interest in this sort of thing. Instead, it's you. Well, it's not the first thing I've got wrong!"
The fact that Mum's now so relaxed about it makes me smile. We seem to have become really close again, just like we were when I was younger.
"Well done!" Mum congratulates, as she finishes her main course. "That was very nice; good food, properly cooked."
After we've eaten our dessert, I load the dishwasher and turn it on. It's time for us to drive over to Birmingham. We arrive at the community centre at twenty past seven. Once Mum's parked the car, we make our way inside. Straightaway, Robbie's there to welcome me.
"Great to see you again!" he gushes. "Come and meet Noah!"
The boy who's with him is taller than me, but not as tall as Robbie. He's quite slender too, rather like Patrick, but with blue eyes and very fair skin, much the same as mine. He looks nice, though nothing exceptional.
"Hi!" he says shyly. "Good to meet you. Robbie's told me lots about you."
"Well, that wouldn't amount to much," I quip. "There's not a lot to say."
"Rubbish!" Robbie enthuses. "I told him about how you stood up to Max when nobody else would."
"Well, I'd met his sort before," I say quietly, turning to Noah. "When I was younger, I got picked on by a boy in my form at school. To start with, I just tried to ignore it, but that just made it worse. Finally, I began to fight back. Basically, I learned how to stand up for myself, so when we came here, I wasn't going to let Max boss me about the way he did with the other boys in the group."
"You don't know how much difference that made," Robbie says. "When I found out that I'd failed all my college courses, I knew I was going to have to get away from him, and I thought to myself, 'If you can do it, so can I.'."
"And you did!" I add, grinning.
With the time approaching half past seven, we take our places in the hall. After Noah and his parents have introduced themselves, we start our discussion. In Max's absence, Robbie, Sam and Zane have much more to say than they have in the previous meetings I've attended. Sam's still not the most articulate, but he seems far more confident than he was. Overall, the atmosphere is really positive, like we're all supporting each other, which is what the group should be about.
Noah, I find, is quiet and level-headed, his contributions thoughtful and supportive. His parents are really nice too, just as Robbie told me they were. It seems like Noah and Robbie were made for each other.
At quarter to nine, we, the gay offspring, are given half an hour to socialise, while our parents do likewise. For the boys, it's a complete change. There's nobody trying to take charge the way Max used to. We're there to support each other and enjoy each other's company. Inevitably, Sarah comes to join me.
"Good to see you, hun!" she greets. "How have you been?"
"Good, thanks!" I tell her. "Tonight's been excellent!"
"Totally!" she agrees. "So much better without you-know-who here!"
We spend the next ten minutes chatting, animatedly catching up. But time's moving on.
"Sorry," I apologise. "I need to have a word with Sam."
"No worries," she says brightly. "We'll chat again next time!"
I head straight across to him.
"I thought you spoke really well tonight," I congratulate.
"Thanks!" he says in little more than a whisper. "I used to hate it when Max was here. If I said something he didn't agree with, or I said it a bit wrong, he was always really bitchy about it. I got like I was scared to open my mouth."
"Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore, so you keep saying what you think, yeah?"
"Yeah, thanks!"
Finally, I rejoin Robbie and Noah.
"Sorry I've been neglecting you guys!" I say, smiling. "Sarah and I needed to catch up." I turn to Noah. "When Max was here, he wouldn't let me anywhere near Robbie."
"Yeah, he's told me," Noah answers.
"So I started hanging out with Sarah. We've become, like, soulmates I guess."
"I think that's cool!"
"I'm really pleased that you've teamed up with Robbie," I go on. "You just seem so right together."
"It's a shame you couldn't bring your boyfriend along," Robbie says.
"Yeah, I'm afraid he's working tonight."
"Didn't you say he was a full-time athlete?" Robbie queries.
Fuck! For the second time today, I've opened my mouth before checking that brain was engaged.
I look around. As long as I keep my voice down, nobody will overhear.
"Well, he is, sort of," I admit. "But it's a bit more complicated than that. If I tell you, you'll have to promise not to repeat it, not even to your parents."
They signal their agreement.
"He's actually a professional footballer," I say quietly. "He's playing a match this evening."
Their mouths fall open, like they can't believe what I've just said.
"Didn't you tell me that he'd just done his A-levels?" Robbie questions.
"Yeah, he did them at college. He got an A* for economics, an A for maths and a B for history. The thing is though, professional footballers can't come out in public. Scott's out to his parents and a few close friends. That's it. Nobody at the club knows. The fans certainly don't know. And that's how it has to stay, yeah?"
"That's going to be hard for you," Noah says thoughtfully.
"Yeah, but he's the guy I want to spend my life with. I can't have it both ways."
"Well, you can rely on us," Robbie says firmly. "We won't breathe a word."
"Thanks!" I say, smiling.
A few minutes later, it's time for us to go home. As Noah leaves with his parents, Beth Goodwin comes over to me.
"Thanks for giving Robbie the confidence to get away from Max," she says warmly. "It feels like I've got my son back."
"Well, I'm delighted he's met Noah," I say. "He's really nice, isn't he?"
"Oh, that's been such a bonus," she says with a smile that lights up the room.
"His parents are just ordinary people like us," Mum adds. "They fitted right in tonight, didn't they Beth? Okay! It's time we were on our way! I'll be in touch!"
As Mum and I head to the car, I feel like I'm walking on air.
"It was good tonight, wasn't it?" Mum says brightly. "It was so much better without that dreadful woman and her obnoxious son!"
I grin in agreement. I don't think she ever spoke a truer word.
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
