This is a mobile proxy. It is intended to visit the IOMfAtS Story Shelf on devices that would otherwise not correctly display the site. Please direct all your feedback to the friendly guy over at IOMfAtS!


by c m

Chapter 4

The burgers are great. Made by our local butcher. I cook them until the centre is still just pink. They are juicy and full of flavour. We have a chip cooker that uses hot air and needs only about a tablespoonful of oil to produce really crispy and delicious string chips. I also make up a little salad of tomatoes and onion. There's a jar of gherkins that I ignore – I really dislike the taste of them – but which Dunc goes for big time. I do, however, go for a squirt of tomato ketchup with my chips.

We are very hungry, and not a word is exchanged until we are about half-way through our second burger.

'These are really good, Merv. And it looks like you can cook. I'm relieved. I was expecting either burnt or raw. I know they would be if I was doing them.'

'I guess some of what I've seen Mum do must have stuck.'

'Don't be so modest. A boyfriend who can cook. Amazing.'

Then he realises what he's said. And it goes very quiet.

'Shit. That is…I mean…fuck…did I just say that?'

'You did. You can take it back if you want, though….'

He looks at me. And slowly shakes his head.

'No…no, I don't want to take it back…unless…I mean…are you…do you…?'

'It would make me the happiest boy in the world.'

There are still bits of uneaten burger on both our plates, but we instinctively just stand up and hug one another. I kiss him just once on the lips.

'Hi, boyfriend.'

'Hi you.'

He goes to say something, but I put a finger on his lips.

'Burger first, talk later.'

He smiles.

We finish the burgers and clear the plates away.

'There's ice cream in the freezer,' I say, going over to it. But as I am bending down to get the tubs out, I feel his arms round my waist.

'Can we have ice cream later. Right now there's something else I'd rather put in my mouth.'

We spend the rest of the afternoon in bed.

Dull? Predictable? Possibly. But we are two teenage boys in the grip of a powerful attraction, and who, having opened the box of delights labelled 'sex', want to gorge ourselves on its contents.

And we do.

We discover the added delights that mutual oral has to offer. And our technique, improved by each having experienced what feels good earlier, improves in leaps and bounds. In between bouts, we are happy just to lie close to each other.

At five o'clock, my phone buzzes. There's a message from my mother saying that they don't expect to be back until about 8, so I should make myself something to eat if I want. We enjoy the extra time that that gives us together. When the time comes for us to clean up before getting dressed again, I suggest running the bath in the family bathroom; it's a big tub and Dunc and I can easily both fit in it together. Dunc approves.

As we sit facing one another, we each have a foot against the other's balls. It is just a mark of companionship; we are too drained for either of us to stay anything but resolutely floppy. But it feels very nice, nonetheless. We discuss when we can next get together.

'I can't keep coming round here without returning the favour, Merv. And I'd like Dad to meet you – even if we have to tread carefully. You up for that?'


'OK. Next Sunday at mine, then.'

'You better tell me where you live, in that case.'

'God…haven't I given you our address?'


'17 The Larches…I'll put it in your phone before I go.'

I try not to let my surprise show. I know The Larches. It's a very smart development. Not what I expected. And then I catch myself; why should I be surprised? His father owns a very successful business. And I realise that I've simply made some very silly assumptions based on….what? I feel very guilty.

'OK…I know where The Larches is. Maybe we can catch up online during the week?'

'That would be cool. Can I call you when I get home one evening? It's hard to predict in advance how any particular day will go.'

'Perfect. I'll be here. Except Tuesday. We've got a late 'practical' class that evening.'


He lies back. 'Ummm…any chance of a bit more hot water?'

We eventually clamber out after a lovely thirty-minute soak. We dry off and get dressed. Downstairs we have the long-delayed bowl of ice-cream before, reluctantly, we realise it's time for Dunc to make his way home.

We hug each other tightly, neither of us wanting to be the one to break contact.

'Thank you so much, Merv. Today has been so special.'

'In every way, Dunc. I love you – and not just for the sex.'

There's a pause, and then, almost in a whisper,

'I love you too, Merv, especially the sex.'

We both start to laugh, our shoulders shaking as we hold our embrace. As the laughter subsides, we reluctantly pull apart. We go and retrieve Dunc's bike and have final quick hug before he pedals off up the road.

I go back into the house. I clear away the ice-cream bowls. I run my finger round the inside of the one Dunc used, as if to get every last taste of him possible. Upstairs I make sure the family bathroom is clean and tidy. I get the towels we've used and take them down to the tumble dryer. I hold the one Dunc used to my nose. There's just the faintest suggestion of his cologne there. Back upstairs I remake the bed. It's unlikely Mum or Dad would come into my room, but better safe than sorry. His scent is more pronounced on the sheets – as is the smell of sex. I take them down to the washing machine and put it on. It's been a wonderful day – but I already ache for him.

When my parents get back, I'm sitting in front of the tele munching a sandwich.

'Hi darling, good day?'

'Very good thanks…and you?'

'It was lovely to see them again after so long. They send you their best wishes. How was lunch? You managed OK?'

'The burgers were a great success,' I say, 'thanks for getting them in for us.'

'That's alright. I'm pleased you enjoyed them. How was Duncan?'

'He was great. We had a really nice day. Oh, and I spilled some coffee on my bed so I've put the sheets into the wash.'

'How very domesticated; I could have put them in with the rest of the things tomorrow.'

'I thought they might stain.'

'You're probably right; that's very thoughtful.'

Stained. They certainly were. Not with coffee, though. But Mum doesn't need to know that.

The week passes surprisingly quickly; Tom and I are given a project to work on, so we end up spending a couple of evenings working on that at his place. My Mum drops me off and Tom's Mum will drop me home. Tom takes the chance to grill me on how things are going with Duncan.

'Let's just say that it couldn't be going better.'

'Really? Wow, I'm pleased for you. So he's gay?'

'Looks like he's come round to accepting that.'

'You two an item, then?'

'Kind of.'

'How do you mean?'

'We're together – but he's scared witless of coming out. That's fine; I understand completely and I don't want to put any pressure on him. But he worries that because people know I'm gay, if he's seen with me all the time, people will make the leap – and then they'll say something that gets back to his Dad. He doesn't think being gay will go down at all well with him – nor with some of his friends.'

'I see. And have you and he, you know…?'

'Know what?' I say all innocently.

'You know what I mean.'

'Go on then, say it…..'

'God, you….OK…have the two of you done the dirty together?'

'Nothing dirty about it,' I say with a grin.

'Fuck. OK. Have you two had sex?'

'Up to a point,' I say.

He looks at me expectantly. I just return his stare.

'Oh come on, you can't leave it dangling like that….'

'No dangling involved. Rock hard mostly.'

We both explode with laughter.

'So you've done stuff, then.'

'Yes, we've done stuff. Up to and including oral, but no further.'

'Good for you.'

'But it's not just about sex, Tom. I really, really like him. You must come round next time he's over. I'd like you to meet him. I think you'll like him – and that he'll like you.'

'That would be great.'

I make a note to mention it to Dunc on Sunday. Better make sure he's happy about it before I arrange anything.

Sunday. Yeah. The day I'm going to meet his Dad.

Sunday is another warm, late summer day. I realise that I'm feeling a little nervous as I set out to number 17 The Larches. Dunc is waiting on the drive of the impressive house that is Number 17 when I arrive.

'Welcome to my humble abode,' he says.

'Not much humble about this.'

'No, well, the builders were friends of Dad. He got it at a great price. Forgive me not hugging you but nosy neighbours and all that….'

'That's fine.'

He leads me inside. The house is modern and perhaps a little anodyne, but it's spacious - bigger than our house. Dunc leads me into the lounge where his dad is sitting reading a newspaper.

'Dad, this is Mervyn – the guy who made us tea when we were doing the job at Sunnybanks.'

His father stands up and holds out a hand. I shake it.

'Pleased to meet you Mr. Hill.'

'You too, Mervyn. So you and the lad share an interest in comics?'

'Weird but true,' I say.

I see the hint of a smile on Mr. Hill's face.

'Weird's the word. Still, there are worse habits to have, I guess.'

I wonder if he's implying something – but there's no hint of it in his face.

'I'm afraid we don't go in for fancy Sunday lunches here – well, not since my wife died, but Duncan and usually go down the pub for Sunday lunch and you're welcome to join us.'

'That sounds very nice, thank you, but I didn't realise…I haven't brough any money with me…'

He waves his hand in dismissal.

'Don't be daft. You're our guest. And your family has given Dunc lunch twice. It's nice to be able to return the favour.'

'OK if we head upstairs, Dad?'

'Of course. We'll head off to the White Horse at about 1 as usual if that's OK?'

'Fine. See you in a bit.'

'Have fun.'

And he goes back to reading his paper.

Dunc's room is lovely. A big bed, lots of fitted wardrobes and a big en-suite complete with a bath as well as a shower.

'Wow, Dunc, this is amazing.'

'It was designed as a guest suite, but we don't have many guests, so Dad said I could move in here after Mum died.'

I go over to the window which looks out over the back garden. It's not a particularly large garden, but it's nicely laid out with a central lawn, a line of flower beds down one side and a collection of small fruit trees running down the other. I can see apples and pears and what look like plums. I become aware of Dunc's hands sliding around my waist, and his face pressed against my neck and cheek.

'If you want to do with me what I want to do with you, we're going to have to wait until after lunch. Dad usually stays at the pub and has a few drinks with his friends after lunch – but we can come back here. Or if we can't wait, we could go and have a quickie in the bathroom…'

His hand drifts down to my groin.

'Oohh…looks like it's a vote for the quickie, then….'

'I think you only want me for my body…'

'Well, it is a pretty good body.'

'Come on, then….'

What follows is not particularly romantic, but it does the job of satisfying our immediate and urgent mutual lust. With the taste of one another still in our mouths, we come back into the bedroom and Dunc sets out an array of video games. I'm pretty crap at most of them, but I can sort of hold my own at Call of Duty, and we pass quite a fun hour playing that.

Just before 1 o'clock we make our way downstairs. It's only about a ten minute walk to the White Hart and Dunc's father is silent throughout it. There's a reserved table in one corner, and as we make our way to it, Dunc's father is greeted by what are clearly several old friends. They acknowledge Duncan as well and give me a brief nod of the head as we pass.

There's a menu and also a 'specials' board above the inglenook fireplace. Today's specials include roast beef or roast chicken with all the trimmings, a vegetarian lasagne and sea bass fillets in a lemon butter.

'Decide what you want, lads. I'll get us some drinks. What would you like, Mervyn?'

'Orange juice and lemonade, please.'

'Blimey. You two must be twins; that's Dunc's usual choice as well.'

By the time he's come back from the bar, I've decided on the roast chicken, and Dunc is going to have the beef.

'Right, that's two beef and one chicken. I'll be right back.'

When he returns, he sits down facing the two of us.

'It was kind of you to bring us tea that day. Dunc tells me you were there on work experience.'

'That's right. Six weeks of being at the sharp end. Study is fine, but you need to get to know what it actually involves and feels like.'

'Well you're right about that. I've nothing against academic qualifications, but it's when you get your hands dirty that you really understand how things work. I approve.'

'How long have you been running your business?'

'Nigh on fifteen years now. My father – Dunc's grandfather - died young but left me enough money to buy some stock and get set up. I'd been working for someone else up to then, but I reckoned I could do a better job than my gaffer. I suppose I could have bought a car or a miserable little flat or something with the money, but working for myself was what I wanted. It's the only way to go, lad. You're in charge of your own destiny; no-one can fire you - and if you mess it up you've only yourself to blame.'

'I agree. I don't just want to work in the hotel business, I want to own one. Like Charlie at Sunnybanks.'

'You do, eh? Well good for you. I like ambition. The guy running Sunnybanks is well-respected round here, too. Good business. Good business brain. Even if he is gay.'

'Dad!' says Duncan.

'Oh. Yes. Sorry…begging your pardon. Look, I've nothing against gays. I don't pretend to understand it, but each to his own. And from what I've seen of you, you seem to have your head screwed on straight anyhow.'

At that point the food arrives. It looks and smells very good. We all tuck in. Then suddenly Mr. Bell is on his feet and making choking noises. He reaches for his beer and takes a mouthful – but that appears to make things worse. He's desperately pointing at his throat. People look up at the disturbance.

Choking….of course, he must have a bit of the beef stuck in his throat. I get behind him, close my hands together in a fist, put it at the base of his sternum and heave.


I try a second time, giving it my all – and I'm rewarded with a spray of beer followed by a chunk of something that flies out of his mouth.

Mr. Bell is coughing and spluttering, but his colour is slowly returning to normal as he takes in gasps of air.

Other people are now crowding round, but he waves then away.

'I'm fine now….thank you.'

He turns to me.

'Thank you, lad. Thank you so much. Who taught you to do that?'

'The Heimlich? First Aid training. I volunteered to be one of the First Aiders at College and this is one of the things they taught us.'

'Then I'm bloody grateful to them as well as you.'

Dunc is looking at me with something like awe in his eyes.

We all sit down, and Mr. Bell pushes his plate away.

'I don't think I'll risk any more of that, but please carry on.'

Dunc and I both clear our plates – and go for a sticky toffee pudding for dessert. Mr. Bell goes to join his friends who are a showing a mixture of concern and relief. There is much looking in my direction and nodding.

With dessert dealt with as thoroughly as the main, Dunc and I go over to his father to let them know we're leaving.

'I'll see you later. And thanks again Mervyn.'

To my embarrassment, his friends all start to clap. I give them a little wave of acknowledgment but all I feel is slightly awkward. Once outside the pub, Dunc and I look at each other and break into a run. There is only one thing on our minds.

Up in his bedroom we are now lying naked and sated. We've just had gloriously satisfying mutual oral sex – twice. We seem to find new pleasures every time. His head is on my chest, and his right leg is lying on top of mine. I can feel his thickly soft cock against my thigh.

'That was unbelievable, what you did to Dad. You saved his life.'

'Instinct just kicked in.'

'And I'm so embarrassed about what he said about gays.'

'Actually, I think it could be worse. He didn't start spouting all that 'it's unnatural' stuff. He just said he didn't understand it but each to his own. Not exactly a ringing endorsement I agree, but….'

'But the way he implied that a gay guy being a good businessman was unusual.'

'I think that's just 'automatic pilot' stuff; he probably wasn't even aware of what he was implying.'

'You cut him too much slack.'

'Maybe. But I hope I'm right.'

'Me too, Merv, because one day he's going to have to face up to the fact that his son's gay. I still can't even imagine me telling him , but I know I'll have to.'

'That's for another day. Right now I'd like you to kiss me.'

He does - and then uses his tongue to explore the rest of my body. It's exquisitely erotic.

'How long before your father's back?' I ask.

He looks at the clock on the bedside table. He groans.

'Too soon. We better clean up and get dressed.

By the time his father arrives home we are downstairs and watching tele. He thanks me profusely again, which makes me feel awkward all over again. Dunc and I watch the end of our programme and then, reluctantly, I realise that it's time for me to head home.

Duncan comes outside to see me off. He takes a quick look round before giving me a peck on the cheek. I give him a quick hug before making my way out of The Larches. As I reach the corner, I look back and Dunc has one hand in the air, waving. I wave back. God I love him.

I haven't been home long before my phone buzzes. It's a message from Dunc. All it says is:

'He knows.'

I have a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Talk about this story on our forum

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