A Twinkle In My Eye

by Jolyon Lewes

Tommy, just turned seventeen, was the most gorgeous boy on the planet. I'd been infatuated with him for over a year. He was still at my old boarding school where I'd often considered trying to seduce him but I'd left school in July to go to college. We were now hundreds of miles apart but Christmas was approaching and I was getting excited because Tommy would be staying with us for two days before Christmas and two days just after New Year.

Why had he accepted my invitation to visit me in Yorkshire instead of flying straight to Norway at the end of term? Well, I suspected he knew I fancied him rotten but also that I'd never bully him into sex and I think he admired me, not for my scintillating intellect but for my championship of the underdog. As a school prefect I'd happily thrash boys for flagrant bad behaviour but always tried to make sure of the felon's guilt before taking my trusty slipper to his (usually tasty) bottom. I'd learnt to spot a boy who'd been set up by some bully to commit a crime or who'd been lying to try to protect a boy who'd been victimising him. Apparently, I was known as Hero of the Bullied Ones.

At fifteen and sixteen Tommy had been so cute he'd been prey to scores of boys who wished to fondle him or more, much more. I know loads of boys wanked themselves crazy over Tommy and I admit to being one of those boys but not because I wanted to see him sexually abused. No, I stood up for him against his predators on numerous occasions and he thanked me for it. And when I say I'd thought of seducing him I really mean that I tried to earn his trust so that one day I could touch his flesh without his recoiling in disgust and that eventually, one thing might lead to another.

But I digress: why was he choosing to stop over in Yorkshire? Well, it was for practical reasons. His parents lived in Tromsø, in Northern Norway and in those days the only convenient flights between there and England operated from my local airport, Leeds/Bradford. Tommy and I both enjoyed hill-running and there was a lot of that in this part of Yorkshire so he could join me for a run before Dad drove him to the airport for the flight to Tromsø and maybe we could do another run on his return to Yorkshire. I could introduce him to those of my mates in the running club who liked pretty young boys.

Well, that was the plan but things change. The weather was so awful a run onto the fells would have been hazardous in the extreme. Freezing fog doesn't make for a happy run. When Tommy arrived I took a few moments just to look at him and glory in his beauty. In his school uniform he looked so damned young and so ravishing - good enough to eat. I couldn't resist pulling him into a nice little hug and then I told him we'd be stupid to attempt a run on Baildon Moor - it would be too dangerous - so we'd have to make do with a run my club had organised for 19 December. It would mean a valley run of about 6 miles, beside the river Aire to Saltaire and back again, followed by a little session at the clubhouse.

"So we'll have to mix with people?" said Tommy. "I was hoping it could be just you and me, nobody else."

This was exciting. Was he suggesting I could have him all to myself - and in running shorts? My cock was rigid in seconds.

"There's a reason I don't want strangers to see me in shorts and you'll understand when I show you why. Can we go to your bedroom?"

I was wild with excitement. Just the act of his asking to go to my bedroom was thrilling beyond words. We went upstairs. Mum had made up the camp bed she thought I should sleep in so that Tommy could have my proper bed.

"Now then, young Tommy," I said. "What are you about to show me?"

Without speaking he pulled his sweater up, then his shirt, then unfastened his grey trousers and let them fall to the floor as he leaned his chest on the table and gave me my first view since the summer of his glorious legs and that major part of his bottom left bare by the tiny little briefs he'd always favoured.

"Bloody hell! Which bastard did that?"

As you might have guessed I was looking at the weals made by a cane. They can only have been a couple of days old.

"Tommy! You must tell me about it!"

"I will, Jolyon. It was terrible and it was Watson who did it."

"Watson? He can be a real bastard!" I said, breathlessly. "For God's sake pull your trousers up and sit on my bed and tell me all about it."

I could happily have spent the next hour examining Tommy's bottom but my cock was rock hard and pressing urgently for ejaculation so I sat on my bed, hoped he couldn't see my state of excitement and tried to compose myself.

Now fully dressed, he sat beside me and said that in a moment of madness he'd been insolent to the games master. Of all the teachers in the school, Watson was the last one you'd want to annoy. Huge and quick-tempered, he was ferocious with the cane and poor little Tommy had been his latest victim.

"But the seven-day rule?" I said, knowing that no boy was caned within seven days of going home to his parents lest they see the damage to their son's bottom.

"I just couldn't get through the Christmas holiday knowing that first day back at school I'd have to face Watson and his cane so I begged him to do it straightaway. D'you want to know what it was like?"

'Only if I can fondle your bottom,' I thought but what I said was planned to suggest to Tommy that I wasn't fussed to know the details. So what I actually said was "Yeah, OK, if you feel you need to."

"Well, he got me in his office, in PE kit and lectured me about being insolent. He kept it short and I could tell he was desperate to thrash me and didn't want to waste time. So he made me heave up my shorts and bend over his desk and then he started hitting me. It was only four strokes but they were the worst I've ever known. It hurt like hell."

"Two of 'em landed on your thighs and not your bottom," I said, trying not to sound over-excited. "It's always worse when the cane hits your thighs."

"Oh Jolyon, you're so right! You know so much and you're so understanding. Your reputation as hero of the bullied ones is still talked about at school. No-one's taken your place. I'm so glad I'm here with you. I feel safe with you."

I felt awful. I was salivating as I gazed at Tommy's sweet face and scrumptious little body, willing my cock to behave and striving to keep my hands to myself and there was he, innocently trusting me to be decent and honourable.

"Look, Tommy, we've got this lunchtime run tomorrow, only six miles, and I really want you to come with me so I can introduce you to my mates. D'you feel fit enough to jog a bit?"

"Yeah, but only if no-one sees my cane-marks."

"I could lend you some shorts; they'd be more likely to cover the weals than the tiny little things you wear."

"Thanks, Jolyon and that way I can keep my own shorts clean for Norway."

When Tommy was in my shorts I'd assure him his weals couldn't be seen and afterwards I'd keep those shorts unwashed and under my pillow as a memento of his visit.

My parents hadn't met Tommy before but took to him at once and made him very welcome. At the dinner table I tried not to devour him with my eyes and maintained a slightly formal attitude towards him, as befits a college boy talking to a schoolboy nearly two years his junior. Up in my bedroom though, we chatted in a more friendly fashion but I managed to keep my distance, tempting though it was to reach out to touch his bare legs as he changed into pyjamas. He slept in my bed and I slept on the camp bed and he slept like a top while I lay listening to his gentle, rhythmic breathing and the occasional little squeak as he dreamed. Was he dreaming about me? Needless to say, I had an almost permanent hard-on.


Next day, carrying our running kit in my rucksack, I showed Tommy our town and the famous Five Rise Locks, which raise the Leeds-Liverpool Canal by 60 feet. There were a few hardy souls on the water, braving the freezing fog as they moved slowly along in their narrow boats and it was a tranquil place to walk with Tommy, contrasting markedly with the frenetic pre-Christmas activity in the town itself. At midday we jogged to the running club to prepare for the lunchtime run.

Tommy wore his own fell-running shoes but I lent him socks, shirt and shorts.

"But these are no bigger than my own shorts!" he protested when he saw the royal blue, Ron Hill shorts I'd selected for him.

"Yes they are!" I said. "Definitely a bit longer and I'm sure no-one will see those cane marks, not in this dismal light."

Tommy looked divine in my shorts, which I freely admit to my readers were the shortest in my collection. You could see the two weals on his luscious thighs but only if you knew where to look and the fog made for a monochrome world, one in which a cane-mark would have to be a really vivid red to stand out in the gloom.

Our fastest runner came to introduce himself and to welcome Tommy to the gang, saying he was sorry it was only for one day. This young man was one of the friendliest people you could wish to meet and he quickly put Tommy at his ease. We began the run and I can't emphasise how good it was to be running once again with the sweet Tommy at my elbow. I was aware of another of our runners, a lean man of thirty or so, with thinning hair and a Roman nose. His name was Alex Stone and he worked in a bank. He kept station behind us for most of the run, accelerating past us only in the last 300 yards.

After the run some of the runners did cooling down exercises but I took Tommy into the club room which was warm and brightly lit. Alex Stone came up and asked to be introduced to Tommy. Soon afterwards more of our members came up to meet Tommy and have a chat with him. This was when Alex Stone caught my eye, clearly wanting a word.

"Cradle-snatching, are we, Jolyon? Your juicy little friend doesn't look a day over fourteen!"

"He's seventeen," I said, with what I hoped was a hint of defiance. "I was at school with him and he's stopping over for a day before flying to Norway for Christmas."

"I see he's been caned recently. At school, was it?"

"Oh God, did you see the marks? Yes, at school, the poor little bugger. Where else? I'd better take him home."

"Doesn't have to be at school, Jolyon. Caning can take place at home, you know. Look after your little twink. He's rather special."

Alex was right: Tommy was very special and if Alex had seen the weals, so must lots of other people. And why did Alex call Tommy a twink? And what did he mean about caning taking place at home? I took charge and ushered Tommy away and without bothering to change we jogged home in the gathering dusk. Just as at school, I felt the need to protect Tommy and was happy only once we'd got home and had changed into jeans and sweaters. That evening Mum and Dad took us to Harry Ramsden's, the vast fish and chips emporium at Guiseley, where we ate lots and later on slept chastely in separate beds.

Next morning, Dad drove us to Yeadon and the airport. The fog had cleared. Tommy said he'd had a lovely time and looked forward to seeing me again in just under a fortnight. I offered him a little hug and this time, first checking that nobody was looking, he gave me a little kiss on my left cheek. My cock responded with enormous enthusiasm. Over Christmas I slept with the Ron Hill shorts he'd worn tucked under my pillow ready for a sniff whenever I needed a little touch of Tommy in the night. Much seed was spilled.


On New Year's Eve the club put on its traditional fell race to mark the passing of the year. The sky was clear and the wind was bracing. At nearly nineteen I was classed as a Senior so was up against some serious opposition and I came a miserable forty-ninth but I beat Alex Stone and all but one of the women. As always, the exertion made me feel great and as I stood under the hot shower afterwards I made the mistake of thinking about Tommy, which gave me an instant hard-on. It was spotted by Alex, towelling himself dry.

"Thinking about your little twink, Jolyon?"

"Course not!" I lied.

"I hope you're bringing him to the Tenth Night Party. The theme is 'back to school' - so you'll have to make him wear short trousers." Alex's face broke into an evil grin. "My God - your erection's growing before my eyes!"

On the Tenth Day of Christmas the club usually organised a fell race named 'Ten Lords a-Leaping', for which most of the less serious runners wore fancy dress. This year there was to be an evening disco at which we younger ones were supposed to dress like school kids. 'BOYS IN SHORT TROUSERS, GIRLS IN GYM SLIPS,' said the poster. Someone had scrawled at the foot of the poster 'CANE MARKS OPTIONAL.' As you can guess, this made me think of Tommy.

When the shops reopened after New Year I went into town and visited the Oxfam shop. Soon I'd found suitable fancy dress for the disco. For me a navy blue blazer with silver piping and a pair of grey shorts with five-inch legs in which I thought I'd look quite dashing. For Tommy I found a pale blue school cap, a blazer striped in blue, white and purple and some tiny grey shorts with elasticised waist and no fly. They'd be a tight fit for Tommy but oh God, he'd look fabulous!

"Twinkle-toes will look gorgeous in those," said a voice behind me as I queued for the till. It was Alex.

"Why did you call him Twinkle-toes?" I asked, aware that I was blushing redly.

"Well, the dear little thing's so dainty. He's like a little pixie. Are you sure he's seventeen?"

"I know his birthday and anyway, he's in the Sixth Form."

"Let's pop into the pub next door and I'll buy you a beer."

In a secluded corner of the bar Alex told me of one of his interests.

"I don't want it widely known but I have one or two very discreet clients who come to me when they want to be caned."

Open-mouthed, I stared at Alex. "You mean, people actually like it?"

"Oh yes, Jolyon, they do. A couple of our fell runners want me to - um - decorate their thighs specially for the disco. I wondered whether Twinkle-toes might like those weals of his freshened up. You are bringing him, aren't you?"

"I hope to," I said, my hand going down to try to quell yet another erection.

"Yes, I can see you're keen to bring him," said Alex, giving me a lecherous wink. "In those little shorts you've just bought him his thighs will be entirely bare. It would be such a shame if they bore no nice new weals."

I gulped some of my beer. "I can't think how I'd persuade Tommy to volunteer for a caning and I certainly don't want him hurt. But tell me what you do with these clients of yours. Are they all men? No women?"

"All men - and sometimes boys like Tommy Twinkle. I've quite a collection of canes. A kooboo cane is slightly thicker and heavier than a senior rattan cane, the one normally used at school for seventeen-year-old boys, but it's still very flexible. It's ideal for caning men rather than boys. How old did you say you are?"

"I didn't. I'm eighteen; nineteen in month's time."

"So still a boy, then, for one more month. I'd love to give you a going over with one of my kooboos."

"I don't think so," said I, taking another gulp.

"Don't look so worried, Jolyon - I'm only joking! Now when it comes to caning Tommy ..."

"But I never said I wanted you to cane Tommy!" I interrupted, rather too loudly. I glanced around to see the barmaid looking pointedly in my direction .

"Calm down, my boy," said Alex. "No, you didn't but come on, you do

I realised I was pummelling my cock and my face went red, again. I finished my beer and said I'd better set off for home.

"Off you go then, Jolyon. I'll see you at Ten Lords a-Leaping. You could bring your sweet little Christmas Twinkle round to my place after the race. That way his weals will be nice and fresh for the disco."


That afternoon Dad and I met Tommy at the airport. It was late and the sky was pitch dark when we got home, if you discount the yellowish glow from the Bradford conurbation to the south-east. Tommy had had a good Christmas and had done some skiing on the floodlit slopes near where his parents lived.

"But I didn't do any fell-running, Jolyon. I hope you've got something planned for tomorrow."

I told Tommy about the Ten Lords a-Leaping race. "Quite a few runners will be in fancy dress, long robes and fake ermine stoles and all that. But serious runners like us will be in proper running kit."

I took Tommy up to my bedroom and he said "Oh, poor you, on the camp bed again. All alone."

What did he mean? My cock came to a certain conclusion and I needed to think of something else so I told him there'd be a disco at the club.

"A disco? Will there be girls there?"

"Yeah, of course. It's not a all-male running club, you know!"

"It's just that I'm a bit shy where girls are concerned. I was hoping we could just muck around together."

This remark got my cock even more thrilled and I had to sit on the bed.

"The girls at the club are pretty decent so I don't think we need worry about being pounced on. Anyway, we needn't stay long. But the thing is, it's fancy dress - back to school - and I've got us some clothes to wear. It could be fun."

"Oh Jolyon, you've obviously made plans to keep me entertained. I'll go to the disco with you in fancy dress but please don't leave me alone - I'm very shy."

I'd never dream of leaving him alone, even for a minute. I wanted him never to be out of my sight. But how could I tell him I loved him to bits? I was spared making a fool of myself by Mum, calling us down for dinner.

Much later we went upstairs to bed. Once again he slept in my bed and I lay on the camp bed, planning to listen to him in slumber. But after about ten minutes I felt his hand brushing my face.

"Jolyon," he whispered. "I hope we get a bit of time to ourselves tomorrow." His hand met mine and clasped it, generating yet more excitement in my groin. "I'm looking forward to the fell race and I'll wear whatever you want for this disco thing but I'm off back to school the next day and won't see you for ages so I need lots of private time with you."

What did he mean? He seemed so innocent and trusting. Could I really take him to Alex for a caning and then make him go to the disco in shorts designed for an eight-year-old? How could I cause him such pain and embarrassment? Clutching his warm little hand I sought for something to say.

"I'm dreading you going back to school," I said, truthfully. "We'll have plenty of time to chat, don't worry."

"Good," said Tommy. "Night, Jolyon."

Our hands parted and soon he was asleep. I lay in the dark, desperate to show him I loved him but equally desperate not to make a fool of myself. Then I realised the pain and embarrassment needn't be his alone - I could share it.


Next morning, l was nervous of showing Tommy his fancy dress outfit in case, quite understandably, he took fright, so I made no mention of it and I took him for a little practice run up onto Baildon Moor. His running shorts were so tiny they only just covered his cute little bottom and before our legs got covered in mud he asked me to look for any sign of the cane marks but it was nearly three weeks since Watson had caned him so the backs of his thighs were blissfully free of damage. 'But not for long,' I thought, with a stab of guilt.

By one o'clock we were suitably fed and watered and ready for the Ten Lords a-Leaping race. About half the hundred or so contestants were in proper running kit and the rest were dolled up in lordly fashion, some in paper coronets and most in flowing robes that contrasted weirdly with their fell-running shoes. Some even wore wigs. Alex Stone looked uncannily like the Lord Chamberlain. It was a race for all comers so you could be male or female, twelve years old or seventy. Tommy looked like one of the twelve-year-olds.

The sun was out, the wind cutting and the visibility from the top superb with Airedale spread out to the south and Wharfedale to the north. Beyond Wharfedale were the tantalising curves of the hills of the Yorkshire Dales. Much closer were the even more tantalising curves of Tommy's gorgeous little body. We ran together and I could hardly take my eyes off his happy little face, his slender torso, his firm bottom and his pounding, beautiful and entirely bare legs.

We finished twenty-first equal and nipped into the club house for cocoa, Mars Bars and a chat with the others. A very muddy Alex shambled over just as a spotty youth took Tommy to see the poster advertising the disco. Alex asked me to be over at his place by about four-thirty.

"Bring your fancy dress and you can both get changed after Tommy Twinkle's punishment session. I can then drive you both to the disco."

"I've been thinking, Alex," I said, trembling slightly. "I think it would be only fair if you could do me as well as Tommy."

"It would be my pleasure," said Alex, his eyes glinting. "Let's have a quick feel." I felt his fingers on the backs of my thighs. "You do wear the sexiest running shorts, Jolyon. Yes, I think one of my canes would do the trick nicely."

"You're very quiet, Jolyon," said Tommy as we jogged home.

It was true - I was worried about how Tommy would take the news of the caning session and the nature of the fancy dress I'd bought him. He'd already said he didn't like discos and was clearly nervous about mixing with girls. At home, in the safety of my bedroom I plucked up the courage to tell him.

"You know the poster said 'Cane marks optional,' well, I've arranged for that weird bloke Alex Stone to give me a couple of whacks that'll show below the grey shorts I've bought for the disco."

Tommy said "Well I want some too, Jolyon! Not fair if it's only you!"

Well, I could have kissed him! But ever so sheepishly I told him Alex had already offered to attend to him as well.

"Fantastic! It'll never be as painful as Watson's. I assume I'll have to wear grey shorts like yours."

"A bit shorter, Tommy. Cos you're only quite small."

"I'm five foot five if I stand up straight."

"Yes, and worth every penny," I said, though I'm not sure what I meant.

"This is going to be fun," said Tommy, "just so long as you don't leave me alone at the disco. You could dance with me if you want!"

This was too much for my cock and yet again I had to pummel it into obedience.


When we got to Alex Stone's the first thing he did was make us tea and hot, buttered crumpets. "I like my clients to be relaxed before we start proceedings," he said, making me feel extremely nervous.

"Life at the bank can be boring," he said, "so to add spice to my life I work for the local theatre, in the wardrobe and make-up department. That's in addition to taking clients for caning, of course. I've just the thing to freshen up your cane marks, Tommy Twinkle and it won't hurt at all."

Tommy gave him a terrified smile and saw by the door a collection of canes. An icy chill spread throughout my body.

"I'll need you both to strip to your underwear and I think we'll have you first, Tommy. Shoes and trousers off, please."

Tommy pulled off his sweater, kicked off his shoes and dropped his trousers. My cock shrank to nothing in deep concern. Then Alex advanced, holding what looked like an artist's palette, complete with brushes, metal palette knives and little pots of stuff.

"Just bend over the arm of the chair, would you, Tommy and stay as still as you can. You see, as make-up artist I can create pretty faces but you certainly don't need my help there, and I can create gory wounds. Sweet little briefs, by the way. Would you like two new weals or more?"

"I think two would be enough, thank you," said a much relieved Tommy.

I watched enthralled as Alex manufactured a weal on each of Tommy's thighs, slightly slanting and only two inches from his bottom. By now my cock felt brave enough to pay attention and in no time I had another raging erection. Then Alex sculpted more weals further up on Tommy's thighs, just below his crease. He took his time and when satisfied with his work he spoke.

"I've seen the grey shorts Jolyon's bought for you and I guarantee these juicy marks will be nicely on display and win you sympathy from all the girls - and most of the boys. Stand up, Tommy. There's a mirror over there. What you've got on your gorgeous little legs are sort of three-dimensional graffiti, so after the party just peel it all off and bung it away. What do you think, Jolyon?"

"Really gruesome. The bits of clotted blood are so realistic. Well done!"

"Thanks. Now then, Tommy, let's see you in those grey shorts. Jolyon, if you please."

I produced Tommy's fancy dress from my rucksack and two minutes after he'd recovered from the shock of seeing the extreme brevity of the grey shorts he was the very image of a well-thrashed schoolboy of about thirteen, his cap perched perkily on his head and the hems of his tiny shorts higher than the hideous weals just below his bottom. When he put on the blazer, it reached an inch below where his shorts finished. My erection was epic.

"Now then, Jolyon, it's your turn. I'm afraid your treatment will be different. Tommy's thighs, as you know, are blissfully smooth and entirely free of hair. Yours are not. There aren't many hairs but they'd make peeling off the plastic weals hell. So for you it has to be the real cane. Shoes and trousers off, please."

Let's get over this bit quickly. With Tommy watching in what I hoped was horror, Alex had me bend over then gave me three hefty whacks with one of his rattan canes and I cried out in pain and afterwards massaged my upper thighs as the tears tumbled down my cheeks.

But Alex wasn't finished. "Of course, Jolyon, your grey shorts are far too long to reveal my handiwork so while Tommy comforts you I'll just nip to the next room and make adjustments." He took my grey shorts and left the room. I soon heard what I assumed was a sewing machine in operation.

"Oh my poor Jolyon!" said Tommy. "Let me look. At least your thighs aren't bleeding like mine are pretending to do. But it must be terribly painful. Go on, give them a good rub."

After a minute or three the pain began to ease a little. I wondered whether Tommy might like to rub my thighs and was about to ask when Alex came in with my grey shorts. He'd taken four inches off the legs! When I put them on I could feel the cane-marks were about two inches below the new hems.

"This is ridiculous!" I said. "I feel naked!"

"Come, come, Jolyon," said Alex. "Those running shorts you wore today are infinitely more revealing, aren't they, Twinkle?"

Alarmed, I looked at Tommy who readily agreed they were much more revealing. He was sporting a massive erection, so massive that as I watched it burst from one leg of his absurdly short shorts. He looked highly embarrassed but I felt highly flattered.

Alex was gazing at the two of us with undisguised lust. "You are two gorgeous boys and I need to rush to my bathroom - I mean bedroom - to put on my fancy dress. Help yourselves to more tea and things."

He shot out of the room, presumably for a frantic wank before changing. Eventually, he emerged as a schoolmaster. Dark grey suit, collar and tie, horn-rimmed specs, academic gown and on his head, a mortar board. Inevitably, he selected a stout cane to complete his outfit.

"Right, boys," he said. "Let's go partying!"


You don't really want to hear about the disco, do you? It should suffice to say that it went very well, there were boys in shorts and some with the mark of Alex on their thighs, girls in mini-skirts and gymslips and older folk like Alex dressed up to look like teachers. As far as I could tell I was the only boy with genuine weals on his thighs. Even if Tommy hadn't had artificial weals plastered to his thighs people would have observed him with interest. His every movement caused his tiny shorts to ride up, exposing the lower couple of inches of his cute little bottom so every minute or two he had to slide his fingertips under the hems and tug down in a vain attempt to cover his buttocks.

He was grateful no girl asked to dance with him and I was grateful he didn't ask to dance with me: that would have done my image no good at all. At about nine we made our excuses and left for home, having changed into our normal clothes. The pain on my thighs had evolved into a sort of warm throbbing and I walked home with only the occasional wince of pain. My parents realised we needed to go straight up to bed, what with our having done a fell race and attended a lively disco. So at ten, we were in my bedroom and undressing.

"Could you peel this stuff off my legs, please," said Tommy. I was only too happy to remove Alex's three-dimensional make-up off Tommy's beautiful thighs. I did it very gently, revelling in the sensation of my fingertips touching his gloriously smooth skin.

"There," said I. "As good as new."

"Thanks, Jolyon. May I inspect your legs now?"

I lay on my bed, face down, while Tommy gently caressed the backs of my legs. In seconds I had a hard-on to beat all others. I could hear Tommy's breathing getting faster. I knew I should say something but what?

"That camp bed looks awfully uncomfortable, Jolyon. Why don't we share the proper bed? After all, it's only a few hours before I have to go back to school."

A minute later we were lying in bed, side by side and naked. We cuddled and kissed and our bare legs writhed together like snakes. I still couldn't think of what to say.

"I know I have the body of a weak and feeble boy," said Tommy, "but I have the heart and stomach of a young adult like you."

"Bloody hell!" was all I could think of saying.

"Yes, Jolyon, I'm only a tiny creature but I've adored you for ages, Hero of the Bullied Ones. For one thing you're clever and kind and support boys like me and for another you're beautiful and supple and - oh gosh - in those little grey shorts you looked good enough to eat!"

"Bloody hell! That's how I think of you - good enough to eat! Can I have a nibble?"

Tommy and I writhed together in my bed and he caressed my thighs and I fondled his bottom and we stroked and pulled each other's cock until the mighty organs were at last able to do what they'd wanted to do since our visit to Alex's.

Eventually, we lay side by side, physically exhausted.

"I'd no idea you liked me so much," I said.

"So why d'you think I wanted to come and stay with you? The airport's very handy for Tromsø but that's just a bonus. To see you again, to stay with you, be with you, run with you, party with you and now to lie with you and have sex - all my dreams have come true!"

"Tommy, my darling boy, I'd absolutely no idea you felt like this. You are the love of my life!"

"According to Alex Stone, I'm just your Christmas Twinkle. But when we were at the highest point of the run today, looking at all those mysterious hills, I wanted to come back time and again to explore them with you, run over them, camp in them - just you and me - for as long as we live. Say I can, Jolyon."

"Oh God, Tommy, I love you to bits. Of course you can."

After the sweet boy had fallen asleep I lay awake a long time, staring at the ceiling, with my Christmas Twinkle beside me and a twinkle in my eye.

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