I Do Like to Be Beside The Seaside

by Ivor Slipper

Getting There

If you'd asked him Chris Atkins wouldn't have been able to tell you when he'd first thought of running away from home. It had though been a thought that had been with him intermittently for many years.

He did recall the first time he'd actually done so when he was about seven or eight. That was on the occasion his mother had given him his first ever 'proper' spanking. Before then she'd clipped him round the ear or slapped his legs or even smacked his bottom, but all of those had just been a couple of smacks or slaps. On that occasion though he'd done something – and now he couldn't remember what it was – that had really upset his mum. She'd sat down in one of the chairs in their kitchen, pulled him by one arm over her legs, pulled down his shorts and underpants and proceeded to slap his little bottom until it was all red and he was yelling like mad.

It was the next day that he decided he wasn't going to go back home after school and so he wandered off without any idea of where he was going – except that he wasn't going home. In due course a lady noticed him wandering around looking lost and took him to the police station where he sat in the canteen being fed with squash and biscuits by a kindly policewoman. Eventually his mother, having finally realised that he was very, very late coming home from school started to look for him and finally wound up at the police station. Naturally in the presence of the police his mother was very pleased to see him, but once they got outside the words 'just you wait 'til I get you home' became etched for ever more in Chris' memory.

Suffice to say that the previous night's spanking was nothing to compare to the one he got that night which culminated in his first ever experience of being slippered. Chris spent that night lying on his tummy in bed and sobbing himself to sleep. It was an experience that would be repeated many times over the next few years.

It did though achieve one thing – Chris didn't try to run away again. He thought about it a lot and kept making plans but always decided that he couldn't do it successfully. But, once he'd turned fourteen a real plan started to take shape in his mind. He managed to get himself a paper round and as he lived in a large town he was able to do it on foot. Of course it meant getting up very early every morning and quite often getting very wet so he ended up going to school in wet clothes. In some ways he didn't mind getting wet as it at least meant his clothes got a bit of a wash – his mother you see was no housekeeper. His mother also demanded that he give her part of his pay from the paper round to help pay for his keep. She had no job and relied on the social and child allowance which she got in respect of Chris and his younger sister Katie. When he became old enough to understand such things Chris had thought the child allowance was meant to be spent on him and his sister, but while some of it was spent on Katie virtually nothing was spent on him. He was always dressed in clothes that his mother had got at jumble sales.

Still, he was allowed to keep some of the money from his paper round and Chris squirrelled that away in a secret place for when he needed it. And the time when he needed it was fast approaching. Chris's fifteenth birthday was in May and he knew that he could leave school when he reached that age. Of course he ought to stay until the end of term, but he could see no point in doing that. Instead his plan was to leave home and go to the seaside. He'd been there once, years ago on a day trip with his uncle who had since emigrated to Australia. They'd gone to Margate and Chris had marvelled at the sight of the sea and the sand and then in the late afternoon they'd gone to Dreamland and his uncle had taken him on the roller coaster and the helter-skelter and he'd even won him a little teddy bear by hooking a duck in a pond. It had been the best day of his life; so that was where he was going.

In the last year Chris had shot up by about six inches and now stood at about 5 foot 9 inches tall. It was the main reason why his mother hadn't spanked him in the past year as although she was the same height and much heavier than her slimly built blond haired son, she was actually scared that he might hit her back – not that Chris had ever thought of doing that; he just wasn't the violent sort.

Two days after his fifteenth birthday Chris put his plan into action. He'd found an old kitbag which his mother had told him had once belonged to his father. Chris took it deciding that he might as well have something from his father whom he had never known. He stuffed all of his spare clothes into the kitbag, retrieved his money from its hiding place and also put into it his birth certificate and the by now rather scruffy little teddy bear his uncle had won for him. Finally, while his mother was still fast asleep he raided her purse and helped himself to all of the pound notes that he found there. His mother had collected the child allowance the previous day and hadn't yet had the chance to spend it, so the purse contained a reasonable sum. Once he'd done that though Chris knew there was no turning back. If he did come back while his mother might not be able to beat him he was sure she'd have no hesitation in reporting him to the police as a thief. But he felt equally sure that she wouldn't bother to do that if he simply disappeared; he was confident she'd be glad to see the back of him.

He'd had several looks at an atlas at school over the past week or so and thus had a rough idea of which direction he needed to take. He was used to walking, so that didn't bother him and it was a fine late Spring morning. Mind you, he'd have not been worried had it been raining as he was used to being wet, but he thought to himself as he walked along alternately whistling a certain little tune entitled 'I Do Like to be Beside the Seaside' and singing 'A Hard Day's Night' which had been such a big hit the previous year, that he was on the way to find happiness. At that point another song came to his mind and he started walking backwards and laughing to himself as he did so knowing that wasn't what the lyrics of that old song actually meant. In fact while Chris was very good at remembering tunes he wasn't much cop at remembering the words to them, so very often he had to make up his own to try and fit.

When he reached the edge of town and had spotted a signpost that he felt sure pointed in the right direction he decided to try and thumb a lift. Eventually after about half an hour he struck lucky and a middle aged lady stopped to pick him up. She seemed nice but started asking him a lot of questions as to where he'd come from, where he was going and why wasn't he at school, to the stage where he began to get worried. He was thus quite glad when she reached the point where she had to turn off the main road to get to the village where she lived. He'd got as far as a place called Farnborough, but he knew that still left a long way to go. He carried on walking coming to a little village called Pratts Bottom the name of which he thought was hilarious, but wondered who would ever admit to living there. He stopped and went into a shop and bought himself a drin and some rolls and cheese from which he made his lunch while sitting on a bench on the village green. After that he started walking again and did get another lift that took him just beyond Sevenoaks.

However, no further lifts came his way as the afternoon gave way to early evening. At that point it dawned on him that his plan hadn't made any allowance for sleeping. He did have a couple of jumpers and a spare pair of jeans in his kitbag as well as an anorak, but nothing that was going to provide shelter or comfort. At this time of year there weren't even any haystacks in the fields, so perhaps he'd have to sleep in a shop doorway or on a bench.

It was while those thoughts were troubling him that he saw about a hundred yards down the road someone else trying to hitch a lift. As he drew nearer he could tell that this was also a boy but one who was not only a lot smaller than him, but also looked much younger. His clothes were very scruffy and dirty and as Chris drew close he spotted on the ground beside him a black bag with a yellow design and printing that was a sort of cross between a holdall and a duffle bag. When he got really close he could tell that the boy hadn't washed for some time.

"What you doing?" asked Chris.

"What's it bleedin' look like I'm doing- trying to get a lift you daft sod"

"Me too. Mind if I stand with you?"

"Can't stop yer, can I."

There was a silence for a couple of minutes. Chris had never had any real friends and usually kept a low profile not wishing to draw attention to himself. But he hadn't spoken to anyone for a few hours so said,

"My name's Chris - Chris Atkins – what's yours?"

"Ain't no business of yours but you can call me Billy."

"Come far?"

No answer.

"Where you trying to go?"

No answer.

"I'm trying to get to Margate."

"Just as long as it ain't a fuckin' five barred gate. I've had enough of them in my fuckin' time."

Chris had no idea what Billy was talking about; it made no great sense to him. The only five barred gates he knew of were in fields according to books he had read at infant's school. But he didn't want to let Billy know he didn't know, so he said nothing.

It was a while since he'd had his lunch and he was feeling hungry. He'd also bought a couple of bars of chocolate at the shop, but he couldn't just stand next to Billy and eat one. A bit reluctantly he took one out of his kitbag, split it in two and offered half to Billy.

"What you want for that? Ain't got no money."

"Don't want anything; just thought you might like some."

Billy took it with a grunt and rapidly ate it, but didn't say anything more.

Billy was in fact a runaway from a children's home in the north of the country. He'd been on the road for almost two weeks now and had made his way this far without any real idea of where he was going – anywhere except back there was fine with him.

Billy had been orphaned when he was seven. Up until then his life had been good but when his parents had died having been run over by a drunk driver, his life had changed. With neither of his parents having any relatives Billy had ended up in an orphanage. The next seven years of his life had been as bad as the first seven had been good. Some orphanages are run by caring people, but that is not always the case and it had been Billy's misfortune to be placed in one of the others. Add to that the fact that he was always small and it was his fate to become the one who was always bullied and picked on.

"I'm going to walk a bit further" said Chris. "You coming or staying here?"

He didn't get an answer, so shrugged, picked up his kitbag and started walking again. He was surprised when he heard scurrying footsteps behind him and Billy appeared alongside him.

"Weren't doing any good there so might as well walk a bit more." Billy offered.

They trudged on for another mile or so before both saw a couple of lorries pulling out onto the road. By now it was getting dark and Chris thought he could see some lights ahead.

"Cor, looks like a transport caff. We might get lucky there" said Billy.

It was indeed one and they went into the car park. Billy seemed to know what he was doing so Chris let him approach a couple of drivers as they emerged from the café but without any luck. The smell of fried food coming from inside was making him feel really hungry and he suggested to Billy they should go inside. Billy was reluctant and Chris guessed he probably didn't have much, if any, money so he volunteered to pay. Billy now quickly agreed and they went inside and were soon eating two large fry ups with mugs of hot tea. They took the opportunity to use the toilets and have a wash and while they were there Chris noticed a driver come in and stare at them. As the pair came out of the toilets Billy said,

"Reckon we got a chance wiv him. Let's go outside and wait."

Shortly afterwards the driver appeared, looked at them and Chris thought he winked and jerked his head before walking off. Billy led the pair after him and they arrived at a cattle truck standing in the corner of the car park. Chris's nose wrinkled at the smell coming from it and he could see it was carrying sheep while from the back of it a small stream of smelly liquid was running onto the floor.

"You two looking for a ride?" said the driver.

"Yeah. Where you going?" asked Billy.

"Ramsgate with these. They're being shipped out tomorrow."

Chris's spirits rose. He knew Ramsgate was almost next door to Margate.

"That'll do us mister" he said.

"What's in it for me?" asked the driver.

Chris didn't really know what he meant, but Billy did.

"We'll both gobble ya. One before and one after."

The man smiled.

"As long as you make it good" he said and moved to the front of the lorry. The boys followed with Billy in the lead. Although it was nearly dark Chris could clearly see what followed. Billy ran his hand over the front of the driver's jeans before undoing his belt and pulling down the zip. Then he inserted his hand and after some manoeuvring inside the hand emerged now wrapped around a large engorged and hairy prick. Billy then dropped to his knees and proceeded to lick it before guiding it into his mouth and bobbing up and down on it. The man placed his hands on Billy's shoulders and began to thrust his body in and out before starting to groan and jerk. After a short while a now limper prick emerged from Billy's mouth.

Chris had watched in a mixture of amazement and fear. He had never seen anything like that nor even imagined such happenings. That accounted for the amazement; the fear was due to Billy having seemingly promised that he would do the same when they reached Ramsgate. He was half tempted to turn and run, but he spotted Billy giving him a wink as the man put his equipment back inside his clothing.

The trio got into a dirty and smelly cab and set off, Chris sitting next to the driver and Billy by the door. After an hour or so the driver pulled into a layby, announcing that he needed a slash and if they wanted one they should do so now as he wasn't going to stop again. The boys followed him but Billy led Chris a few yards away.

"When he gets to Ramsgate make sure you've got hold of your bag. I'll open the door as soon as he stops then we both jump out an' scarper. Right?" Billy whispered

Chris breathed a big sigh of relief at hearing that before they got back into the cab and continued on the journey. Chris dozed a bit in the warmth of the cab but was jolted awake by a nudge in the ribs from the driver who said with a laugh,

"Not long now. I'm looking forward to your gobble, young turkey."

Chris tried to suppress a shudder and tightened his grip on his kitbag. A few minutes later the lorry slowed and turned into a car park. As it drew to a halt Billy opened the cab door, shouted "Now!" and jumped down. Chris slid across the seat and followed him. The pair ran they knew not where but heard the sound of the driver's voice and his curses slowly fade. When they stopped running and had recovered their breath, Chris spoke.

"Thanks, Billy. I'd not have thought of that."

"Reckoned I owed ya one for the meal. I seen you looking when I was doing him – you never sucked anyone before 'ave ya?"

"No, I didn't know what you meant by 'gobble'. Learnt something new" he laughed.

"Yeah, bet nobody's sucked you either. Take it you do wank off?"

"Course I do! But…….."

"Yeah, well. You didn't grow up in an orphanage. Learned a lot there. I'll tell you when we find somewhere to sit down."

Eventually they found themselves on the front and came across a shelter where people could sit and admire the view during the day while being out of the wind. They sat down next to each other and Billy started to tell Chris about his time at the orphanage.

He said that when he first arrived there it wasn't too bad. Indeed being among other boys all the time was rather like being at school permanently. But it didn't take him long to find out the differences. The food was nowhere near as good and whereas at home his father had never even spanked him, here he quickly discovered that the slipper was in very frequent use for wrongdoings both in and out of the classroom. That wasn't too bad though but when he reached the age of ten the cane would also be used. Worse still came when puberty arrived as although the boys were in fairly small dormitories with all there being of about the same age, their development did not all happen at the same time. He was one of the later ones, but was soon made aware of what went on at night. Being the smallest he was also an ideal target until he found himself a protector. By pledging himself to the toughest boy in the dorm he was safe from the advances of others but found himself virtually a slave. He had to do anything that boy asked in terms of the tasks that he was supposed to do himself. On top of that came the sexual favours and he quickly found himself tossing Robert off and before long giving him frequent blow jobs.

He'd come to accept that as a necessary part of life, but then on the evening of his fourteenth birthday he'd been called into the warden's quarters. Once he was there the warden had told him he was going to give him a birthday present. Billy had been both surprised and excited at hearing this, but he hadn't expected to have his pyjama trousers removed and then be fucked. It had been done brutally and it had taken him several days to recover. While he was recovering he had vowed it was never going to happen again as during that time he'd been told by a couple of other boys that once you became one of the warden's favourites you could expect to be called on quite often. And that was when he'd decided to run away.

Chris had listened to all of this in amazement. He'd thought his own life had been bad, but compared to Billy's…….. When Billy had finished telling his story Chris wrapped him into a hug and they both dropped off into a fitful sleep.

Come the morning Chris told Billy that he was going to Margate and asked him to come with him saying he'd pay his bus fare. They caught one of the dark maroon East Kent buses and quite soon arrived in Margate. To Chris it still looked the same as he remembered, although being early morning and early in the season it was pretty quiet compared to how it had been when he was there. By now he was feeling hungry again so they went into a shop and bought a few things – pasties, pies and cakes and some lemonade all of which went into Billy's bag. They looked at the harbour and the pier but decided to walk in the direction of Cliftonville passing the Lido on the way. They walked along the cliff top eventually arriving at Walpole Bay and there went down onto the sandy beach.

Once there Chris took off the pair of jeans he'd been wearing and pulled on a pair of very short brown Adidas shorts. He had those and another similar pair in black – each pair had a slit in the side of the legs and barely covered his rear. His Mum had got them at a jumble sale the previous summer but Chris had grown a little since then. It felt good to have the sun on his legs. They spent the day on the beach, but on testing out the water decided it was far too cold to want to go for a swim – not that Chris could but Billy said he was able to do so. During the day they'd got involved in some games with various kids of families who were there on holiday and on a couple of occasions had been offered a sandwich or a cake which they'd gladly accepted. One father had even bought them an ice cream from the café that was on the beach when he bought some for his own kids. Come six o'clock though and virtually everyone had left the beach to go back to their hotel or B&B and now the question came of what they were going to do for the night.

Chris had watched as the deckchairs were collected up and placed in stacks with a tarpaulin sheet over the top. When the man doing that had left he went to investigate and found it was possible for them to get underneath and that was where they spent the night cuddled together wearing as much warm clothing as they had.

The next morning they used the nearby toilets and washed as best they could. By now they were both hungry and thirsty so walked away from the beach and eventually found some shops where they could buy more food and drink. While Chris still had quite a bit of money left he knew it wasn't going to last forever and that he had to find a way of earning some. He mentioned getting a job to Billy but his response was that he couldn't take the chance of registering his name in case the orphanage had reported him as a runaway, plus he was only fourteen anyway and so should be at school. His final argument was that if he needed to earn some money he reckoned he'd be able to in town. By now Chris had a pretty good idea what that involved, but knew it wasn't something he could do until he was absolutely desperate and perhaps not even then.

With their supplies bought they walked back down to the beach to spend another day. As they walked along the cliff top they came across some bowling greens and a putting course. Chris spotted a man there in a hut where the putting equipment was kept who was selling tickets so on a whim went and asked him if he had any idea where he might get a job. The man looked him up and down and told him to come back just before six when he finished work as he might have an idea. Once they were out of earshot Billy said,

"You know what sort of fuckin' idea he's got dontcha?"

"Guess he might, but I sorta sensed something in the way he spoke. No harm in going back – and we can always outrun him!"

Billy laughed.

"Yeah – guess we can run faster than 'im. Think he'd got a gammy leg anyway."

The day was passed on the beach once again but just before six they went back to the kiosk. The man handed over to his replacement and then came and joined them where they were sitting on a bench waiting.

"You two look like a pair of runaways to me. Want to tell me your stories over fish and chips?"

Chris glanced at Billy and saw a sneer begin to form on his face. For reasons he didn't understand something inside him was saying that he could trust this man, so he kicked Billy's leg and while Billy was saying 'ouch' and bent down to rub his shin, he said.

"That'd be nice, mister – thanks."

"Okay. There's a place just round the gap we can go to – it's called 'The Bungalow'. And you can call me George."

It wasn't that far and George did indeed buy them fish and chips and ice creams to follow, plus squash to drink while they told their stories. Chris actually told all of his, but if Billy had told him the truth the previous day then what he told George was an abbreviated version with a different reason as to why he'd done a runner. When they'd finished George sat back in his chair opposite the pair and looked directly at them.

"So where did you spend last night?"

"On the beach under the sheet over the deck chairs" answered Chris.

"And I suppose that's where you're going to spend tonight?"

Chris shrugged in response.

"I think I must have got a touch of the sun today, but if you want to come back to my place there's a double bed you can share."

Billy burst out laughing.

"Fuckin' told ya Chris. He's like all of 'em but he wants to fuck both of us."

George's face reddened with anger.

"Listen boy. Your pal came to me earlier very nicely and asked me if I knew where he might be able to find a job. Most kids who come down here are idle layabouts or thieves. I thought he might be different which is why I offered you a meal and why I'm going to try and get him a job. You I'm not so sure about and as far as I'm concerned you can fuck off yourself unless Chris wants to speak up for you."

"George, he didn't mean it really but he didn't tell you everything that happened to him at the orphanage. Say you're sorry Billy, please and perhaps George can forgive you."

Billy looked down at the table and mumbled something.

"No, Billy that ain't good enough. Say it to George as if you mean it."

Billy looked up and made an apology to George that sounded fairly sincere. They left the café and walked the half mile or so to where George lived. On the way George explained that his wife had died a year or so ago and he now lived alone. He'd moved into the spare bedroom as he couldn't bear sleeping alone in their bed so that bed was available. He also told them he would have two rules if they wanted to stay there. Firstly there would be no smoking in the house, to which they both responded that wouldn't be a problem as neither of them did. Secondly if they ever came home drunk the first time they did it he'd tan their backsides, but the second time they'd be out on their ear. Chris had never had an alcoholic drink in his life so didn't see that as a problem and Billy also agreed.

So it was that the pair ended up sleeping together. Before getting into bed Chris took his little teddy bear out of his kitbag and stood it on the small chest of drawers beside his bed – it seemed to have brought him luck so far. They'd cuddled together fully clothed under the tarpaulin the previous night but that night both slept naked under the sheets and blankets and as far apart from each other as they could get.

The next morning after cereal and toast for breakfast, George having ascertained that Chris had a birth certificate, took him on the bus into town to obtain a National Insurance No. Billy was left to do the washing up and was told to meet them at the hut by noon when George's shift for the day started. George also twisted the arm of an old friend of his who had got the franchise from the local Council to operate deckchairs on the stretch of beach below where George worked, and persuaded him to give Chris a job. It involved selling tickets for the deckchairs in both the morning and afternoon sessions and collecting them up at the end of the day. He also had to go round later in each session to make sure people hadn't managed to slip into a chair vacated by someone else.

Chris had always been a quiet and shy boy but suddenly having to meet and deal with different people every day he blossomed and became much more outgoing. Soon he was a familiar sight on the beach always dressed in one of his two pairs of ultra-short shorts and a t-shirt if it was warm and that was virtually all he'd wear apart from a pair of sand shoes. On colder days he'd don a blue jumper. Over his shoulder would be the satchel in which his takings were kept and in his hand would be his rack with the tickets – different colours for morning and afternoons and different colours for each day so people couldn't bluff their way out of paying by producing an old ticket.

George having lived in the area all his life knew many of the locals and was able to arrange for Billy to pick up a few little jobs such as grass cutting for elderly ladies or cleaning windows but nothing official. Billy also helped Chris out with the collecting up of the deck chairs at the end of the day. When he got home in the evening Chris then had to count up the money and put it into cash bags and that was where Billy really proved useful. Not only was he a whizz at counting money quickly and accurately, but he also came up with the idea of taking cash bags down to the beach where later in the day he would count up most of Chris's money before they finished, spreading it on a flat deck chair to ensure none got lost in the sand.

What was more Chris proved to be both efficient and honest. All of the money he took went into the satchel; none into his pocket – not that there were any in those shorts! After he'd been doing the job for a few weeks his employer told George that hiring him had been the best thing he'd done as his takings were up by about 20% compared to other years and he knew that wasn't just because more deckchairs were being sold.

Consequently at the same time Chris got a raise in his pay. Mind you, that didn't matter much to Chris. The very first pay packet he got he handed over to George unopened telling him it was towards their keep as it was George who was buying all the food and cooking it. George refused to accept it at first and after a brisk discussion it was agreed that he would keep two thirds and Chris have the rest. There was one thing Chris simply had to do when he'd got some spending money in his pocket and that was go to Dreamland. He twisted Billy's arm to come with him, although in all honesty it didn't need much twisting and they had a great time A visit to Dreamland became a weekly outing as apart from that his only spending was on sweets, pop and an occasional trip to the cinema. Chris didn't spend much – certainly not on clothes!

After he and Billy had been to Dreamland a couple of times Chris tried to persuade George to come with them. At first George came up with all sort of reasons not to go, but Chris kept on at him until in the end he agreed to go with them one night. Although neither boy said anything to the other both in their different ways enjoyed walking round the fun fair with him. Chris had never had a father in his life and while Billy had, that had been many years ago. On the first occasion George came with them Chris was even tempted to try hooking a plastic duck out of the water. Not only did he manage to do so on his third attempt, but the prize he won was – yes – a teddy bear. When they got back home Chris nipped up to their bedroom before coming back down for their nightly Horlicks. Having drunk that Chris and Billy said goodnight to George and went up to their room. Billy quickly spotted the teddy bear sitting on his bedside table.

"What's that doing there? You won it, not me. I couldn't hook one of the little fuckers," he said looking at Chris.

"No you couldn't, but I've already got one so I want you to have it."

Billy muttered a 'thank you' and then turned away not wanting Chris to see the tears that had formed in his eyes. It had been a long time since anyone had given him a gift. He really had struck lucky that day on the road when Chris had stopped to talk to him.

Chris worked six days a week having the Saturday off. That was the usual change over day at the hotels and B&Bs so there was little demand for deckchairs. Saturday was also the day on which Billy dressed up and went into town. On the first Saturday they were at George's Billy had come downstairs in the evening wearing a tight white sleeveless t-shirt that just met the top of shortest and tightest fitting pair of blue denim shorts imaginable. A pair of black pumps and white socks completed his attire. When asked by George where he was going dressed like that, Billy replied that it was his business suit. Chris laughed, while George rolled his eyes. Both knew what sort of business Billy had in mind. George said,

"Well, just be careful. Not everyone out there is like me"

Billy had the good grace to laugh.

"Have you got a key?" George enquired.

"In these fuckin' shorts? You're joking. Ain't even got enough room for any change."

"Well, I'll be up 'til midnight, but after that the door's locked."

"Don't worry, Billy. I'll wait up for you," said Chris, "but don't be too late as I've got to go work in the morning and can't stay in bed all morning like you."

Thus a Saturday night routine was established. Billy was never later back than 1am and Chris always waited up for him. By now they were also quite used to seeing each other naked and while they hadn't actually got round to cuddling each other in bed they no longer tried to keep apart and would often end up sleeping back to back.

One weekday night Chris was suddenly woken from his slumber by Billy thrashing about in the bed and making moaning noises which turned into virtually a scream. Chris moved to wrap his arm round Billy and hug him while making soothing noises and slowly Billy calmed down and went back to sleep. Nothing was said by either of them the next morning and Chris assumed Billy had fortunately forgotten about his nightmare and certainly wasn't going to mention it if he didn't.

The next Saturday was a wet and rainy day. After lunch George went out to visit a friend who was in hospital leaving the boys alone. Chris was up in their bedroom laid on the bed in his shorts and jumper when Billy came up having finished the washing up – a job he always insisted on doing himself. He sat on the bed beside Chris.

"Thanks for the other night – when I had the nightmare. Should've warned you I get them sometimes."

"That's alright. Didn't really know what to do to help."

"Being cuddled like that really 'elped. Made me feel safe."

There was a silence for a while before Billy spoke again.

"You do wank, don't you?"

Chris almost blushed at the question.

"Course. Told you I did way back. Just don't do it in bed now tho'."

"Will you let me wank you off in a special way to say thanks?"

Chris hesitated. He wasn't sure about being gobbled even though he'd been wondering what it would be like.

Billy sensed the reason for the hesitation.

"Don't worry I ain't gonna gobble you – unless that's what you want?"

Chris shook his head.

"Thought not. Maybe another time. You stay there. I'll be back in a minute."

Billy reappeared in about that time with an old towel in his hand and then delved into the drawer of his bedside table emerging with a small bottle in the other hand.

"Lift up so I can put this towel under you. This can be a bit messy and we don't want to mess the bedding."

Chris was intrigued and wanted to see what Billy was planning to do, so he stacked a couple of pillows at the top of the bed, took off his jumper and then lay down with his hands behind his head. He was also surprised to realise that his prick had gone fairly hard; nobody had ever touched it before and he'd never before thought of letting anyone do so and yet now Billy was about to do just that and he was looking forward to it.

Billy came onto the bed and moved up level with Chris's knees before stretching out his right arm and running his fingers up Chris's thigh and then under the leg of his shorts to establish as he suspected that Chris wasn't wearing any pants and also, slightly to his surprise that he was hard. Chris involuntarily shivered at the touch. Billy shifted his position slightly so he could put both hands on the waistband of Chris's shorts and as he pulled down Chis lifted his bum so Billy could pull them down to about his knees. Now Billy moved again to straddle Chris and on looking at him saw that Chris has his eyes half closed but that there was a smile of pleasure on his face. Billy undid the top of the bottle of baby oil and grasping Chris's circumcised prick in one hand let a few drops fall onto its round pink head. Chris gasped as the liquid made contact and then gasped again as Billy let some more drop which he then proceeded to massage gently in with the tips of the fingers of his right hand. Chris swore out loud at the feeling he was experiencing something he rarely did. Billy continued to stroke gently up and down but could tell from the reactions of his friend's body that if he continued Chris would soon cum. He stopped; Chris opened his eyes wide and looked questioningly at him. Billy smiled. 'I'm in charge' he whispered before letting a few more drops of oil fall which he then rubbed only downwards, knowing that this would slow the pint of no return. This went on for several minutes until Chris began to groan, desperately seeking release. Finally, Billy gave that to him angling his prick upwards so that his cum shot into his chest and stomach.

Chris was exhilarated and at the same time exhausted. He had never experienced anything like that. As he'd come he'd shut his eyes and on opening them he could see Billy grinning at him.

"Think you liked that."

Chris didn't know what to say in response and then blurted out the first thing that came into his head.

"When can you have another nightmare?"

Billy laughed and playfully flicked Chris's prick.

"Who says I've gotta have a nightmare first?"

Then carefully placing the bottle on the floor he moved up the bed to lie alongside Chris before putting his right arm over his chest.

"Reckon it were my lucky day when you came along that road."

"Think it was mine too."

"Yeah, but you didn't come then like you did just now."

That brought both of them into fits of laughter and when they'd calmed down Billy suggested it would be a good idea to go to the bathroom and get cleaned up before George got home. While George had never expressed any interest in what they might or might not do in the bedroom neither of them wanted him to see them like this.


The following Saturday Chris went into the chemists in Northdown Road and asked for a bottle of baby oil. He managed to survive the strange looks he received from the lady behind the counter when making his request. He produced it with a smile to Billy on the Sunday evening – Billy having gone out on Saturday night as usual – and Billy duly did the necessary. During the week that followed it occurred to Chris at some point that it wasn't really fair if he was the one always being oiled and that he ought to do it to Billy. He'd never before touched anyone's prick but this was Billy and they'd shared the same bed for weeks now so to him that made it alright.

On the following Saturday afternoon, George having gone off to the hospital again, the pair went up to their bedroom and Chris got out the bottle but instead of getting on the bed said to Billy,

"I think it's time I did you."

Billy was naturally surprised at this offer.

"You sure?" he queried.

Chris confirmed that he was and Billy stripped off his jeans - he wasn't wearing any pants - and lay on the bed revealing another circumcised prick that was slightly thinner than Chris's but of almost equal length. Chris was at first very tentative in his touching but was quite surprised to find that he got almost as much enjoyment from pleasuring Billy as he did from being pleasured himself. From then on such a session became a regular part of their weekend either on the Saturday afternoon or Sunday evening. It was Billy though who suggested that they should pay a game of 'rock, scissors, paper' each time to decide who was to be the receiver.


Summer seemed to fly past. The weather was generally good and there were a lot of holidaymakers on the beach and thus plenty of demand for deckchairs. Chris had by now turned a very golden brown virtually all over, apart from the area covered by his short shorts. He became quite a focus of attention for some of the visiting girls of similar age, but although he'd talk to them he found he had no interest in trying to take things further.

There was one week where the temperature rose into the 80s. Billy would sit on the sand in the afternoon watching Chris as he made his way round ensuring everyone had paid for the deckchairs they were sitting in. He realised that Chris, dressed in just those shorts and sandshoes, his body tanned to a nice shade of golden brown, glistening with beads of perspiration and due to the work he had been doing for the last few months now with noticeable muscles in his upper arms and chest, was quite a sight to behold. It was no wonder girls wanted to talk to him. Billy also felt stirrings within himself as he looked, stirrings that he didn't understand because he had spent so much of his life trying to shut out any feelings and just trying to survive. After his Mum & Dad had died the only person for whom he had felt anything was his protector at the orphanage and he knew those feelings had never meant much but were simply a means to an end. Now he would go out on a Saturday night and earn himself some money by satisfying the needs of a few men. For him though that was simply a job – or more precisely usually a blow job – which he could deliver with enough skill to satisfy the most demanding recipient. But, nobody was ever allowed to do more than that with him; the physical scars from his rape by the warden might have faded, but the mental ones were still there.


The August Bank Holiday weekend arrived and looked like, for a change, having good sunny weather. As usual Saturday was Chris's day off and although George was once again going to the hospital to visit someone in the afternoon, the boys had decided to leave their oiling until Sunday. Billy had decided to go up and have a snooze before he went out in the evening while Chris was watching sport on TV downstairs. Midway through the afternoon he remembered that George had asked him to get some things from the shops so he nipped upstairs to borrow Billy's holdall before setting off. He was wearing his short brown shorts with the Adidas stripe, a royal blue Adidas t-shirt and a pair of old sand shoes

For a change he decided to come back from the shops by a different route to normal and it was while he was doing so that he spotted a little white van parked. Based on what he saw a couple of people walking away carrying it appeared to be selling ice cream, but it wasn't the normal Walls or Mr Whippy van; indeed it had no logo and was just plain. Chris walked over for a better look and saw there was a printed price list stuck on the side window of the van and that it was indeed selling ice cream. He decided that he'd buy a couple as a little treat for him and Billy. When he got to the window and studied the price list properly he was surprised to see listed there '99s'. He smiled to himself on seeing that – he hadn't had one of those since his uncle had brought him to Margate that day many years ago. He just had to have two of those.

Carrying the two cones in one hand he hurried back to the house and up to the bedroom where Billy was lying naked on top of the bed.

"Hey, Billy – I've got something for you."

Billy stirred, rolled over onto his back and focussed his eyes on Chris at the side of the bed. Then he took in the two ice cream cones each of which had a piece of chocolate flake sticking out of the top of the soft ice cream.

"What the fuck's that?"

"It's a 99. They're nice; haven't had one for years. Thought I'd……….."

Chris broke off as Billy burst out laughing.

"A ninety fuckin' nine! That's good. I've heard of 69s but never 99s"

Chris looked blank.

"What's a sixty-nine, Billy?"

Billy laughed even louder.

"Oh, Chris, you're so funny at times. Give me one and when we've eaten it I'll show you what a sixty-nine is."

Chris handed Billy his and sat down on the bed beside him as they ate their cones. When they'd finished Billy told Chris to get on the bed as they did when having a baby oil session. Chris was puzzled but did as he was told. Billy moved to take up his customary position for that before pulling down Chris's shorts to reveal an already erect prick. Then he bent his head down towards it and just licked the tip. He was rewarded by Chris making a noise that combined pleasure and surprise and a couple more licks produced a bead of pre-cum. Billy proceeded to lick down the shaft before taking each of Chris's balls into his mouth and giving them a good suck after which he returned to the head, opened his mouth wide and took it inside. Chris could believe either what he was seeing or the feelings he was experiencing. Having his prick covered in baby oil was great but this was even better. He was unable to contain himself for long and jerked several times as he came into Billy's mouth.

Billy raised his head and looked at Chris who was grinning widely,

"So that's a sixty-nine?"

"Nah – not really. That's a sixty-eight."

Chris looked puzzled.

"A sixty-nine is when two people do each other at the same time. I just did you, so now you owe me one!"

Chris digested this information in his brain working out how two bodies would have to be positioned to make that possible. Finally he clicked.

"So do I get one of those every time I buy you a 99?"

"Fuck off!" said Billy as he dropped on top of Chris and the pair wrestled around on the bed for a couple of minutes before Chris being the heavier and stronger emerged on top. He looked down at Billy realising how much of a friend he had become since their chance encounter.

"Doubt I'll be much good at it Billy, but I'd like to taste a sixty-nine tomorrow night."

Billy could hardly believe what he'd just heard. His prick stiffened at the thought while his brain tried to think of something to say; finally it got there.

"Tell me where you got those and I'll buy the 99s tomorrow!"

Voting

This story is part of the 2016 story challenge "Inspired by a Picture: May I Help You?". The other stories may be found at the challenge home page. Please read them, too. The voting period of 18 October to 8 November 2016 is when the voting is open. This story may be rated, below, against a set of criteria, and may be rated against other stories on the competition home page.

The challenge was to write a story inspired by this picture:

May I help you?
Please rate I Do Like to Be Beside The Seaside - Getting There with the impressions it left you with

Either while reading this story, or afterwards, I found it to be/had/made me (Tick all that apply)

Romantic
Erotic
Sweet
Gentle
Surprising
Realistic
Inspiring
An emotional read
Written with rhythm and pace
Thought provoking
Well laid out (paragraphs etc)
Technically well written
Written with good use of grammar and syntax (this does not mean pedantic use)
Easy to read
It invited me in
I could not put it down
Cheering (made me happy)
Uplifting
I identified with at least one of the characters
It felt like it was about me. I know it wasn't, but it felt like it
The plot was tough to read. (a tough [good] experience, not hard to read)
Not just prose, but almost a 'tone poem'
There could be spelling/grammar/punctuation improvements
Interpreted the picture well


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