The Jigsaw Puzzle

by Pink Panther

Chapter 28

October 2009

Mum and I are driving to Birmingham. There's no conversation; I'm too nervous. I'm starting to realise just how much of a leap into the unknown this is. I can't explain how exactly, but it could go horribly wrong. That could make matters even worse.

We reach our destination just before half past seven. Walking towards the community centre, my heart's in my mouth. The moment we arrive, we're greeted by a tall, smartly dressed woman about Mum's age.

"You must be Judith and Ian," she says warmly. "I'm Beth Goodwin. I'm so pleased you could make it. Come inside. I'll introduce you to the others."

I breathe a sigh of relief. That's the first hurdle successfully crossed. We move into the hall. Mrs Goodwin has Mum engaged in conversation, leaving me, for the moment at least, to my own devices.

I'm immediately accosted by a boy I'd guess to be my age or a little older. He's a few inches taller than me and slim, his dark hair short at the sides and back, but thick and curly on top.

"Hello," he says, smiling. "I'm Robbie. You must be Ian. You called my mum. Nice to meet you."

The way he's looking at me tells me he likes what he sees.

"You too," I respond, pretending I haven't noticed.

I check him out. He's clearly got a nice body under the trendy clothes he's wearing. Mum would have kittens if I dressed like that. He's a nice looking boy, not stunning, but very sexy.

"How long have you known you were gay?" he asks.

"About three years," I tell him.

"Oooh," he says. "I've known since I was eight. I think Mum knew before I did."

There's something odd about his voice. I've never heard anyone speak the way he does. It sounds girly. I sort of knew some gay boys would talk like that. I just haven't met one before. He's eyeing me up like he's trying to imagine what I'd look like naked. This is awkward. I told Mum nothing was going to happen, but I need a boyfriend, don't I? Could he be the one?

"Oh, right," I acknowledge. "So how old are you now?"

"Sixteen," he says. "I've just done my GCSE's."

"I'll be doing mine next summer," I tell him, reflecting that he's the right age. But would it work? It's time to dig a little deeper.

"Where d'you live?" I ask.

"About a mile away," he answers.

Okay, I can forget the idea. We live too far apart for us to see each other during term time. That wouldn't work for me. I guess I should have known; after all, they do have a Birmingham phone number. And even then I was getting ahead of myself. I've no idea if we have much in common.

Mrs. Goodwin calls the meeting to order. I take my seat with Mum on one side and Robbie on the other. After Mrs Goodwin has welcomed everyone to the meeting, she asks Mum and me to introduce ourselves. We both keep it very low key.

I look round the room. There are five boys including me, and three girls. From what I can tell, Robbie and I, and a large, somewhat overweight boy, are here just with our mums. One of the girls is with her dad. The other kids seem to have both parents here, which is nice.

The next item is a group discussion. We begin by talking about parent-child relationships. As the discussion progresses, Mum explains how she's struggled to come to terms with me being gay. The dad of a tall, lanky boy speaks passionately about how hard he found it when he first found out his son was gay, and how he finally turned it around.

The other parents join in, reassuring Mum that the way she's been feeling is quite normal, and giving her some sensible advice on how to deal with it. Well, I think it's sensible. I hope she's listening.

A little later, we move on to discuss the problems faced by young people growing up gay, such as bullying, isolation and health issues. I've been bullied, of course, by Zav and to a lesser extent by Amanda and her gang, but it's nothing compared to what some of the other kids have been through, especially the boys.

For one thing, it seems I have far less experience using social media than the other kids. That's down to Dad. When I got my i-phone, he fixed my privacy settings on Facebook so that only my 'real' friends can see me online, and told me I wasn't to use Twitter at all. I wasn't too happy about it, but I don't have much time to go on social media, so I wasn't going to argue.

Although I've never been totally isolated, I guess I went through a period of semi-isolation, when Rebecca and her friends cut me off for, like, six months. That was not nice. I'm glad I'm back to having a great group of friends around me, even if almost all of them are straight. I need that.

And I'm aware of the health issues, though I don't want to talk about them. For one thing, Mum's here. And even if she wasn't, there's no way I'd admit to having had sex with several different boys without ever using protection. So all in all, I don't have much to say.

I spend some time checking out the other kids. I'd estimate the large, overweight boy to be a bit older than Robbie, maybe seventeen or eighteen. He's not a total blob, but I don't fancy him at all. He talks rather like Robbie does, but with a very superior tone. He clearly thinks a lot of himself.

The tall, lanky boy looks about the same age. He's not bad looking, I guess, but he's painfully inarticulate. He can barely string a sentence together, which seems odd, considering how well his dad spoke. The last of the boys is a chubby, bespectacled lad who looks no more than fourteen.

I cast an eye over the girls. One of them has the same slim, athletic physique as Claire's friend Martine. She's nice looking like Martine too, though this girl has dark hair, while Martine's blond. It's a shame. If she was a boy she'd be really cute.


With the formal business of the meeting at an end, we're given half an hour to chat amongst ourselves, while the parents chat among themselves. Robbie introduces me to some of the other boys. The large boy, who's called Max, clearly sees himself as the leader of the group.

"So what do you do?" he says, looking down his nose at me.

"I'm still at school," I say evenly. "I'll be doing my GCSE's next summer. My main thing's art and design. I want to be an architect."

"Oh, I see," he says in his superior voice. "And what music do you like. Do you like Diana Ross? I hope you do."

"I've not heard much of her stuff," I admit. "I'm more into bands like Arctic Monkeys and Razorlight."

"Oh, that's far too macho!" he says dismissively. "I thought you were supposed to be gay."

"I am gay," I counter. "I like boys. So what's so special about Diana Ross?"

"She's a gay icon!" he proclaims, "like Barbara Streisand and Judy Garland."

"Sorry," I say, grinning. "I've never even heard of them."

"You need to learn about gay culture," he insists. "You do use social media, don't you?"

"I'm on Facebook," I respond, "but I don't use it much. Only my friends can see me online."

"What's the use of that?" he queries. "You need to get yourself out there!"

"Sorry," I repeat. "That's the way Dad set my phone up. It keeps the trolls away. I'm not going to get into an argument by changing my privacy settings. Anyway, I don't have much time to be on Facebook."

"Don't have time?" he demands. "What keeps you so busy?"

"Studying, drawing, running . . ."

"You do running?" he questions, giving me a look of total incredulity.

"Yeah, I'm in the school cross-country team," I tell him. "I started running a couple of years ago, mainly because it got me out of playing football and rugby. I'm not very good, but I enjoy running with the other boys."

"Oh, I can imagine what happens in the showers afterwards," he sneers.

"You can imagine all you like," I retort. "All the other boys in the team are straight. Absolutely nothing happens."

"You told us that the other kids at school know you're gay," he reminds me. "You're not telling me that none of these so-called straight boys has ever come onto you?"

"I think that's for me to know and you to wonder about," I reply coldly.

At this point he seems to decide that I'm not worth talking to. Within seconds he and Robbie are gossiping about gay celebrities, mainly pop stars, like who they're having a relationship with, and speculating about celebrities who they think might be gay, even though they haven't come out. It's like they're obsessed with it.

They move onto gossiping about friends and acquaintances. I say gossiping; bitching would be nearer the mark. I know Amanda and her mates probably talk about me like that, though I've never actually heard them. It sets my teeth on edge.

I'm disappointed. I thought Robbie was a decent kid, and I still think that underneath he probably is, but he's way too much under Max's influence. I'll have to be very careful not to tell him anything I don't want repeated. There was one interesting thing though. He hasn't said it straight out, but reading between the lines, it seems that he's already with someone.

I leave them to it, parking myself next to the athletic-looking girl. Her name's Sarah. As I suspected, she's into sports, mainly football and cricket. She's a real laugh. Within seconds we're chatting and joking like we've known each other for years. It's frustrating. If only she was a boy!

All too soon, it's time to go home. As the others make their way out, Mum's still in animated conversation with Mrs Goodwin, so I'm with Robbie again.

"Max didn't like you arguing with him," he comments. "He hates it when anyone disagrees with him."

"That's his problem," I respond, "I mean, telling me that I ought to like Diana Ross just because I'm gay. That's stupid."

"Oh, lots of gay guys adore her," he counters. "I think she's wonderful."

"That's not the point," I say firmly. "What other guys like is up to them. I'm me. I make my own choices."

"Yeah, right," he says, eyeing me up like he's mentally undressing me again.

"So what do you do?" I enquire.

"I'm at college," he says. "I'm doing English, Drama and Media Studies."

"What d'you want to do after that?"

"I'm not sure yet."

Somehow it's what I expected.

"Ian!" Mum calls. "It's time we weren't here. I've got to go to work in the morning."

"Can we keep in touch?" Robbie whispers.

"Sure, if you want," I respond.

After quickly swapping phone numbers, we say goodbye. Mum and I and head to the car.

"You seemed to be getting on well with Mrs Goodwin," I comment, settling into my seat.

"Yes," she admits, "and I have to admit that most of what I heard tonight did make sense."

"Great," I acknowledge.

"I learned something else," she goes on. "It seems I've far less to worry about than most of the parents who were there."

"That's good," I respond.

"So what about you?" she asks. "I noticed you having an argument with that big boy."

"Oh he's a right know-all," I say, carefully avoiding calling him an arsehole, which is what I actually think. "He was trying to tell me what music I ought to like and all sorts of nonsense. I wasn't having it. The other boys might let him boss them about but he's not going to do it with me."

"Good for you!" she says appreciatively.

I allow myself a smile. I'm quite pleased with the way I dealt with Max. That's down to what I learned from getting picked on by Zav. Once you take a backward step, it can be difficult to stop.

"How did you get on with Robbie?" Mum asks.

"Oh, he's alright," I say, unable to think of anything more positive.

"His Mum's really worried about him," she goes on. "He's a nice lad, but he seems to drift along with his head in the clouds. He doesn't really apply himself to anything."

"That's because he hangs out with Max," I tell her. "It's like their lives revolve around being gay."

"That's what I mean," she says, giving me a quick smile. "I'm glad you're not like that."

I sit back in my seat, glowing with satisfaction. Oh, I know it's only the beginning, but they say every journey starts with a single step. I reckon we've just taken ours.


I'm in my room working on one of my drawings when I get a call. I check the display. It's Robbie.

"Hi," he says. "You okay?"

"Yeah! You?"

"Yeah, not bad."

"So d'you have a boyfriend?" I ask, lowering my voice.

"Yeah, sort of," he answers quietly.

"Sort of?" I query.

"I met him back in the summer. He's a DJ and record producer."

"So what do you get up to?"

"Everything."

"He fucks you?"

"Yeah, he uses a condom though. I wouldn't let him do it without one."

"Wow! Does your mum know?"

"Nah! I see him weekends mainly. Last Saturday I told her I was staying over with one of my friends from college. He took me to a club where he was playing out. It was wicked! After it closed, we went back to his flat."

"He's got his own flat? How old is he?"

"Twenty-eight."

"And you slept with him?"

"Yeah."

"Did you like that?"

"Oh yeah! And hanging out with him is so cool! I love it."

"So is he your first?"

"Sam and I messed about a couple of times," he admits, "but he was too nervous to do much."

"Sam, that's the tall, lanky kid, yeah?"

"Yeah! I sucked him, but when I asked him to do me, he wouldn't. So what about you? How old were you the first time you did it?"

"Thirteen. I met a boy in the park near the town centre, yeah? He was a year older than me and really cute, big cock too. He only lived a few streets away and his mum was out at work so we went back to his place."

"So what happened?"

"It all went a bit too fast. He got me on my tummy, yeah? I wasn't ready for it. It hurt like hell."

"Fuck! I bet it did. I guess you didn't go back there again."

"No, but a few weeks later I met a boy at school. He's few months younger than me. He's into art too. That's how we met, at the after-school art club."

"So are you boyfriends?"

"I wish! Actually, I thought we were at first. But after a few months he met somebody else and suddenly he knew this was the guy he had to be with. So that was that. We're still friends though."

"I'm feeling horny now," he says.

"Right! Tell me about it!"

"Do you do sexting?"

"No, I don't fancy the idea. Kids who do sexting find themselves getting blackmailed and all sorts."

"What about IM? Have you got a webcam?"

"Yeah, I did that once, ages ago."

"So could we?" he asks.

"You've got to promise you won't record it."

"Yeah, no problem! I wouldn't have anyway."

"Promise?"

"Promise!"

I know I'm taking a chance, but somehow I don't see Robbie as a blackmailer.

"We'll have to be quick," I tell him. "Mum's downstairs, yeah?"

"Yeah, so's mine."

We get ourselves set up.

"Okay," I say, "On the count of three. One, two, three!"

I swallow hard. I was right about his body, lean and trim, and apart from his pubes, as smooth as mine. And he's got a beautiful cock, about the same size as Jimmy's, much bigger than I was expecting. Wow!

"You're gorgeous," he coos.

"And you're hot!" I respond, pulling my pants back up. "Okay, I'd better go."

I quickly log out of IM. My brain's whirling. I mean, it's not fair is it? I let Dominic suck me off. I know he's three years younger than me, but I didn't do him any harm; at least I don't think I did. But if anyone found out, I could lose everything I've been working for.

Robbie's going with this guy who's twelve years older than him. Oh, people would tut-tut about it if they knew, and from the way he was talking, I'd guess his mum would probably go nuts, but because he's sixteen, there'd be no actual consequences for either of them.

I don't think that's right. Obviously I can't be sure, but I'm guessing this disc jockey he's going with only picked him up because he's young, cute and fuckable. You can guess what's going to happen when he starts growing up.

Robbie's naïve. He won't see it coming. He'll get hurt. But it's not my business is it? And he definitely wouldn't thank me for telling him. So I'm going to keep my mouth shut and stay out of it.


November 2009

A few days later, we're back at school and back into the routine. With our mock exams only a few weeks away, I'm very busy. It's just as well, really. It helps to keep my mind off, you know, other things.

Wednesday afternoon, I stroll to the bus stop thinking about the homework I'll have to do a little later. Suddenly, I've got Dominic in front of me. He's on his own again. I guess Gareth and his mates must be at football training.

"Hi!" he says brightly.

"Hi!" I respond. "You okay?"

"Yeah!" He lowers his voice. "You know what you told me to do with Gareth? Well, I tried it."

"And?"

"It was awesome! We do it all the time now. Gareth can't get enough of it. He came to mine yesterday afternoon and had me on all-fours. It was fantastic!"

"That's great!" I tell him. "I'm pleased it worked out for you."


December 2009

With all the work I've had to do, the last few weeks have simply flown past. I haven't spoken to Dominic again. That suits me. I know he's very sexy, but he really is much too young. Fortunately, Robbie's kept in touch. We speak a couple of times a week. He's always keen for us to use our webcams. It's obvious he fancies me.

To be honest, I quite fancy him too, but that's as far as it goes. He's a dreamer, his head still filled with Max's stupid ideas. Oh, he's nice enough and as sexy as hell, but I don't think we could be boyfriends, even if he lived round the corner.

My guess is that he's building towards asking me to meet him, maybe during the Christmas holidays. Well, the ball's in his court. I'll deal with it when it happens.


It's Wednesday, and we've just arrived at a sports centre near Stoke on Trent for this afternoon's race. Unlike the 'friendly' races that I've run in previously, in this one there are eighteen schools taking part, with each school limited to ten runners. All our squad is here though. The guys who haven't made the team, like Dean, have come along to support.

Before the race, we look around the course. After a lap of the playing fields, we head out onto the course proper, a mixture of woods and open moorland. On each lap there are two big, testing climbs, each one followed by a steep descent. To make it even tougher, the sections through the woods are like a mud-bath. We'll be running three laps.

At three o'clock we line up. The gun sounds and we're away. I make my usual steady start. As we leave the playing field, I'm not in the top hundred. As we begin the first climb, I start overtaking people. It's what I expected. I'm small and light. I should be good at running uphill.

The surprise is that on the downhill sections, I do even better. Most of the boys seem to be holding themselves back, like they're scared they'll fall. I'm not scared at all! I just relax and let the slope do the work, exactly as I did when I was running down the sand dunes in Portimao, back in the summer. I go past loads of guys.

Going into the last lap I pass Darren Palmer from Year 12, who's usually our fourth or fifth scorer. I'm now one of our scoring runners. In front of me, I can see that everyone's tired. I'm still going well, and overtaking guys all the time. On the final descent, I go flying past Simon Heath, and near the bottom I pass Alan Sharp, another of our Year 12 runners.

Finally, we turn back onto the playing fields for the run into the finish. I usually lose places here. Today, I manage to hang on. I collect my finishing disc. I've finished twenty-third. Alan's two places behind; Simon comes through in thirty-first. We stroll back to where we've left our kit.

"I couldn't believe the way you went down that hill!" Simon congratulates. "You flew past me! If I'd tried that, I'd have gone arse over tits!"

"Thanks!" I acknowledge.

We hand our discs to Mr Bentley. He's very excited. With David fifth, Patrick ninth and Will Taylor from Year 13 finishing sixteenth, we've scored a total of 109 points.

"That's an excellent score," Mr Bentley enthuses. "Much better than we've done before; we could be in the medals!"

We take our kit and wander into the changing rooms. We're all filthy. We strip off and head into the showers, along with everyone else. OMG! There are hot, naked guys everywhere I look! It's just as well that my self-control's better than it was when I was thirteen. Back then, I'd have got a hard-on in no time. Not today though; instead, I just watch and admire. Mind you, having spent twenty-five minutes running my socks off definitely helps.

In the event, we finished second, behind a school from Liverpool who scored eighty-four. We beat the third-placed team by just six points. The other boys are all over me, David and Patrick especially. If I hadn't run as well as I did, we'd have got nothing.

I have to admit that it's a good feeling. When you're never one of the scoring runners and it doesn't matter how well you run, it's hard to feel part of it. But today I made a difference. Oh, I'm not getting carried away. I know I won't be able to reproduce that performance on the faster, flatter courses where we usually race. That's not important. What is important is that today I proved to myself that I belong.


Term's almost over. The mock exams went well, probably better than I expected. We haven't had all our results yet, but I know I've done okay. I got a grade B for additional maths, only a couple of marks short of an A. As long as I keep working at it, I can get an A-grade in the summer.

We make our way into the physics lab. Once we're sitting down, Mr Harrison strolls around the room, returning our exam papers. As usual, he's working from lowest to highest. I keep expecting my paper to appear, but it doesn't, until finally, with only three of us left, he hands it to me.

My eyes almost fall out. Not only have I finished third out of the whole class, I've scored eighty-eight per cent, which puts me on target for an A-star grade.

"Better than I thought you'd do," he says, rather ungraciously. "Not bad!" He doesn't add, "For a gay boy." There's no need. I know that's what he meant.


After lunch on Christmas Day, we go to see Mum's parents. They're even more of a pain than usual. Granddad congratulates me for being in the cross-country team, which is nice. Then he ruins it by telling me I ought to be playing football. Maybe it just seems worse because I'm growing up and they can't see it. The bottom line is that they still treat me like a five-year old. There's no question of telling them I'm gay.

I don't know if Mum's talked to Grandma about it, but I don't think she has. Grandma would have told her what to do, and Mum hates that. Thinking about it, other than the parents at the support group, I'm not sure that Mum's discussed it with anybody. I reckon that's been part of the problem.

So I'm polite and respectful, just as Mum and Dad expect me to be, while wishing I was somewhere else. What makes it even worse is that Claire wheedled her way out of coming with us. Afterwards, I bend Dad's ear. He sympathises. Well, he would. After all, I like his parents. They show me a bit of respect. Oh well, we've done it now and things can get back to normal.


Today's Boxing Day, and we're at the Redshaws' for a gathering of Dad's side of the family. The Redshaws are Auntie Sarah, who's Dad's sister, Uncle Gavin and their three children. They live about fifty miles away, on the other side of Birmingham, so we don't see them very often. With Dad's parents, plus his brother – my Uncle Glenn – and his family, there are fourteen of us altogether.

We didn't do this last year because Auntie Sarah wasn't well, so it's pretty neat, catching up with the cousins I haven't seen for a couple of years. Apart from me, the only boy is Francis, Auntie Sarah's youngest. He was only ten the last time we were here. Back then, we didn't seem to have much in common. This time we hit it off right away. He's at Markampton Cathedral School, which is a boarding school for the cathedral choir boys. Their singing commitments mean that they have to board, even Francis who only lives a couple of miles away.

They didn't finish term until after the service on Christmas morning. I don't think I'd like that very much, but he seems to love it. As well as singing, he plays piano and clarinet. When he finishes at the Cathedral School – he'll be there for another eighteen months – he's hoping to go to Chetham's in Manchester, one of the country's top music schools. But our conversation's far from being a one-way street. He seems just as interested in what I've been doing, firing questions at me about school, sketching in Portugal, what I want to do when I'm older, even the cross-country team.

Standing 5'2", Franny, as he likes to be called, is quite tall for twelve and very nice-looking. Added to that, he's sharp, funny and enthusiastic. I know I usually prefer older boys, but Franny is an exception. Apart from his height, he's got a sort of confidence about him that makes him seem older than he is. I like that. Of course, I don't know whether he's gay. Other than his love of music, he seems much like any other boy.

After lunch, we spend the rest of the day together. Whether he's gay or not, we've made a real connection. He has the same passion for music that I have for art and design. I guess the important thing is that he's pursuing his dream, just like I'm pursuing mine.


It's 28 th December. Yesterday was the anniversary of my coming out to Mum and Dad. It's not been an easy year. Things got pretty strained at times, but I'm not complaining. As we approach the New Year, apart from my sex-life, I seem to have most things pretty much on track. Oh, we've got a way to go before Mum's really comfortable with me being gay, but at least we've made a start.

This morning, Mum had to go back to work. Dad's still here though. He won't go back until next week. I'm just pottering about, wondering what to do, when I get an unexpected call. It's Anthony.

"Hi!" he says brightly. "How are things going?"

"Pretty good, thanks. You?"

"Yeah, I'm good too. Listen, what are you doing today?"

"Nothing much, why?"

"Jayden's in Portugal. I wondered if you'd like to come round."

"Sure. You mean now?"

"Yeah, if you can. You can stay for lunch if you want."

"Yeah, cool!" I respond. "I'll be around half an hour."

I put on a warm jumper, tie a scarf around my neck and make my way downstairs. I find Dad in the lounge.

"Dad," I say. "I'm going over to Anthony's. I'll be back around half past five."

"Yeah, fine," he answers. "Don't be late and don't get into mischief."

"No problem!" I assure him, before grabbing my cagoul and heading out.

The weather's pretty decent for late December, so I go on my bike. Around twenty minutes later I'm locking it up at Anthony's house. I ring the bell. A moment later, the front door opens

"Hey man!" he greets, ushering me inside. "Good to see you!"

"Good to see you!" I echo. "Where's your dad?"

"He and James have gone out for the day."

"Oh, right!"

We wander up to his room.

"So how's it going?" I ask.

"Pretty good," he responds. "Jayden gave me the Christmas present I asked him for."

"Which was?"

"He came out to his mum and dad."

"Really? How did that go?"

"Okay. His mum reckoned she already knew. His dad just gave him a lecture about being careful. He's come out to some of his mates too. So far, it's only a couple of guys he'd known since they were all about five, but it's a start. Of course, I really miss having him around. Anyway, what about you?"

"Not bad," I say. "The mock exams went well."

"How are things at home?"

"Okay. Mum's still not really happy with me being gay, but she's getting there, I think. It's just going to take time."

"Yeah, right! And how's your love-life?"

"How does non-existent sound?"

"That bad, huh?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Don't worry; you'll find someone. You'll just have to be patient. Meanwhile, as Jayden's not around, well, I can do as I like, more or less."

I know where this is going. I can't say I'm comfortable with the idea, but beggars can't be choosers. After several weeks without anything, turning him down just isn't an option.


January 2010

New Year has come and gone. We've a few days of holiday left. That's when the call comes.

"Hi!" Robbie says. "Had a good holiday?"

"Yeah, not bad thanks!"

"Have you done your mock exams now?"

"Yeah, they went pretty well."

"So would you be interested in coming over here, this week, before you go back to school?"

Well, why not? With the weather having turned cold and damp, I've got nothing better to do. Of course, I could go and see Anthony. Jayden will be away till the weekend, so I've pretty much got an open invitation. The sex is great and we still get on well, but I'm just a fill-in while Jayden's not there. That's not what I want.

"Yeah, I guess," I tell him. "I'll have to come on the train. Could you meet me at New Street, on the concourse?"

"Yeah, sure," he says. "When could you come?"

"How about tomorrow?" I suggest.

"Yeah, cool! What time?"

"Just a minute, I'll check."

I call up the train times' website.

"Ten past twelve okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, that's fine."

"Be on the concourse, yeah, so you can see me come through the ticket barrier."

"Okay."

"There's just one thing; I don't want anyone knowing about it, especially Max. I'm trying really hard to get Mum onside with me being gay. That's why we came to the meeting. If she found out, it'd ruin everything."

"That's cool, I won't say a word. It's totally between you and me, yeah? I wouldn't tell Max anyway. He'd be really bitchy about it."

"Cool!"

We end the call. I've just agreed to go and have sex with a kid I've met precisely once. Oh well, it won't be the first time.


The train pulls into the station. I'm worried that he won't be there and I'll have had a wasted journey. I make my way up the stairs and through the ticket barrier. There he is, just like we agreed. We go to KFC for lunch before taking the bus back to his house.

It takes like half an hour. All the time it's like he's mentally undressing me. Finally, we arrive at a small terraced house, similar to the one Anthony lives in, but smaller and not as nice. We make our way inside and up to his bedroom.

After removing shoes and socks, we begin undressing each other. He's very good at it. It feels wonderful. He seems to like me doing it to him too. Pretty soon, we're down to our underwear. He's wearing skimpy white briefs. They suit him perfectly.

"You've got a great body," I say. "Do you work out?"

"I swim quite a bit," he admits. "But you're gorgeous!"

He puts his hand on the front of my boxers, gently fondling my cock. Without a word he drops to his knees, easing my shorts down to my ankles. I kick them off. A moment later my cock's in his mouth. Oh yeah! Either he's a natural, or his older friend's taught him very well.

After a couple of minutes we swap over. In the flesh, his cock's even more beautiful than I'd thought from seeing it online. I suck it steadily, flicking my tongue out to slash at his balls.

"Oooh!" he groans. "You'd better stop, I don't want to cum yet."

We get on the bed. In an instant he's all over me, his tongue pushing right into my mouth. Robbie may talk girly; he may even act a bit girly, but when it comes to sex, he's one hundred per cent boy. For around twenty minutes he leads me through the most intense foreplay I've ever experienced; kissing, stroking, sucking; we do it all. He's not rough in the slightest, but he's definitely in charge.

"Can I fuck you?" he asks finally, his deep brown eyes locked onto my blue ones. "I've got a condom."

"Yeah!" I say, grinning back at him.

I watch him roll it onto his penis, reflecting that I'd have been quite happy for him to do it without one, only after what was said at the parents' group meeting, I'm not going to tell him. He hands me a tube of K-Y. I squeeze some onto my fingers, smearing it over his sheathed cock. I pull my legs back, my knees almost touching my shoulders.

"Let's do it like this," I suggest.

He gets onto his knees, moving into position. A moment later, he's right inside me.

"Oh yeah!" he gasps. "You've got a tight little bum!"

"Come here!" I urge.

He slowly lowers himself between my legs. I reach up, drawing his lips to mine, my legs wrapped round his back.


Oh, wow! Robbie's just fucked me as hard as anyone ever has. He eases his lips from mine, pushing himself upright. We are seriously sticky.

"So how was it?" I ask.

"Fantastic!" he gasps, his chest rising and falling. "What about you?"

"Yeah, it was amazing!" I agree, grinning up at him. "I love taking it like that."

He gently eases his way out. It feels strange, not being messy after I've been fucked.

"I need to get rid of this," he says, referring to the condom. By the look of it, he came loads.

I follow him to the bathroom. As soon as we've cleaned up, we return to his bedroom, snuggling up on the bed.

"Your bum's very tight," he whispers.

"You've got a big cock," I counter, grinning at him.

"I never knew it was going to be that good," he goes on, nuzzling my ear. "And when you started cumming, I hardly knew where I was. I've never felt anything like it! Do you always cum when you get fucked?"

"Usually," I tell him. "I always do when I take it like that. Have you ever been fucked that way?"

"Nah, Leon likes to have me on all fours. Then he sucks me off afterwards."

"So do you like that?"

"Oh yeah! It's no way as good as that though! And I knew you liked it. You spunked all over us! I'd invite you back tomorrow, but I've got to meet Max."

"That's okay."

"We've got to do it again though, maybe half term?"

"Yeah, maybe. You've got my number."

After a short pause, he starts talking about gay celebrities and going out on the gay scene. He's so caught up in all this stuff, it's like he hasn't given a moment's thought to what he's going to do with his life. I'm not surprised his mum's worried about him. I try to appear interested, but it's hard work. I find it boring.

"Have you ever been to a gay club?" he asks.

"No, I don't think there are any where we live."

"Oh, I love going to the clubs where Leon plays. Of course, I wouldn't get in if I wasn't with him. While he's playing, sometimes older guys come and talk to me yeah? Last Saturday I met this film producer from London. He said he'd give me a job if I went down there, gave me his card and everything. Oh, I wouldn't go at the moment, but once I've finished college I might."

"Oh, right!" I say, biting my tongue. I check my watch. "It's time I was going," I tell him.

Ten minutes later I'm on my way. I'm not sure how I avoided telling him he's an air-head. At the end of the day it's his life, his decision. But clueless doesn't even come close. Suppose he did go to London to live with this guy? How long d'you think it'd last? Until the guy got bored with him, or found another, even younger boy to sleep with. He's setting himself up to get hurt. I know it's not my business, but I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.

It's disappointing. Robbie's as sexy as hell, and he's definitely into me. If we were actually together, I might be able to get him to think further ahead than the following weekend. As it is, he's no more boyfriend material than Jimmy was, less probably. At least Jimmy's doing something that'll actually lead somewhere.

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