Juggling the Pieces

by Pink Panther

Chapter 16

February 2011

Having been out all morning, I have to spend Saturday afternoon working. At five o'clock, I take a break to check the football results. Reavington have had another bad result, losing three-nil at Millwall. Disappointed, I get back to my homework until it's time for dinner.

It's eight o'clock when I arrive at Scott's place.

"It looks like you've been busy," I comment, following him into the lounge.

"Yeah," he confirms. "I've been working pretty much all day. How did the races go?"

"Good! We didn't have any individual winners, but we won the team race in both the intermediate boys and the senior boys."

"Patrick didn't win then?"

"No, he was second. Of course, he was giving a year away."

"Right! And how did you get on?"

"Okay; I finished eleventh."

He looks at me sideways, like he knows I should have done better. Now he's wondering if he ought to say something. He decides not to. In a way, I'm relieved. I guess it's not a conversation that either of us wants to have.

"I forgot to tell you yesterday," he says. "The club wants me to go in on Tuesdays and Fridays so I can have some physio and go through my exercise routine where they can keep an eye on me. It's okay; I'll be back by three so it won't make any difference to when we can see each other."

"Cool!" I say, smiling.

There's a definite sense that we've turned a corner. It's taken almost a month, but it finally seems as though things are moving in the right direction. As long as Scott's recovery continues to progress, we should be okay. Even so, I can't help worrying that if he runs into any complications, we could be back to square one.

"Isn't your birthday coming up soon?" he asks, out of the blue.

"Yeah, it's on Thursday."

"Mine was four weeks ago. As I'm sure you'll understand, I didn't feel much like celebrating at the time. Fancy going out somewhere? I thought maybe we could celebrate both birthdays and our first anniversary all at the same time."

"Cool!" I say, smiling. "Just one thing though. No presents. We've got each other; that's enough for me."

"How about Saturday?"

"As you're not playing at the moment, Friday might be better. I have to get up to run on Sunday mornings."

"Friday it is!" he says, smiling. "Shall we go to Langston's again, or would you like to try somewhere different?"

"Langston's would be great! I like it there."

"Okay, but no tiara!"

"Oh, that's a shame!" I quip. "I thought I might actually get to wear it this time!"

"Will you be able to persuade your mum and dad to let you stop over?"

"I think so. I mean, it is my birthday, yeah? And we've got our half-term break the following week, so there's no pressure work-wise."

Our time in bed together is gentle, affectionate and wonderfully relaxing. I guess that was what we both needed. We emerge just after ten, shortly before Dad joins us to watch Match of the Day. The three of us being together like that reminds me how fortunate I am. I know we've been through a difficult time, the past few weeks, but I wouldn't swap it for anything.

By quarter to twelve, Dad and I are on our way home.

"Tomorrow morning," I say. "There will be a few new boys joining us. They ran really well today, so I invited them to join the Sunday training squad, and they've all confirmed that they'll be coming."

"You're a glutton for punishment, aren't you?" Dad responds, grinning. "After what you've been dealing with, I wouldn't have expected you to be bothered with anything like that right at the moment."

"Well, I know I'm not running as well as I was, but that doesn't matter. We've done all the important races. And now that Scott's recovery is on track, I can just ease myself back into it. I'll be fine."

"So how many are we talking about?" he asks.


"Remind me in the morning. We'll get the garden chairs out of the garage. They'll need wiping down, but we can put them in your club room. It'll give you a few more places to sit down."

"Thanks, Dad! Oh, there is one other thing. Next Friday, Scott's taking me out for my birthday. We're going to Langston's again. Our first anniversary's coming up too, so we're going to celebrate that at the same time. D'you think it'd be okay for me to stay over at his place afterwards?"

"Well," he says thoughtfully. "It is your birthday, and you are off school the following week. I'll have to speak to your mum, but I think it should be alright."

"Thanks, Dad!" I repeat. "You're the best!"

He is, and I'm a very lucky boy.

It's Sunday morning, ten o'clock. Dad and I have taken the four garden chairs from the garage, cleaned the dust off them and put them into the club room, ready for this morning's training run.

At quarter past, the guys begin to arrive. As soon as Alan appears, I take him to one side.

"What I thought we could do this morning is a circuit that brings us back this way so that after seven miles, I'll lead the new lads back here, with Mike making sure that nobody gets lost, while you Patrick, Nathan and Jon carry on to do the full ten miles. Is that okay?"

"What about Niall?" he queries. "Yesterday, he was only just behind Nathan."

"Yes, but I don't think he's ever run more than seven miles before. We're going to be doing eight. We'll see how it goes. If he's champing at the bit and wants to carry on, I guess we can let him."

"Sure," he agrees. "That makes sense. Yesterday was a surprise. I thought you'd make the team to go to the English Schools and I'd miss out. Instead it was the other way round."

"Yeah," I say guardedly, not wanting to give anything away. "Things have been a bit difficult. Fortunately, they seem to be getting sorted. Give it a few weeks and I should be running okay again."

By 10:25, we're all assembled. As we're getting ready to run, Dad pops in.

"Hi, everybody!" he says brightly. "I've just come to say a quick hello to those of you who haven't been here before. You're very welcome; we're pleased to see you all."

As we head out onto the road, I let Alan and Patrick take the lead. As I expected, they're setting quite a modest pace. I settle into the group alongside Niall and Shaun.

"The full circuit this morning is ten miles," I tell them, "but after seven miles, we'll split up. Alan, Patrick and probably Nathan will carry on to do the full ten miles. The rest of us will take a shortcut back to the house, so we'll do about eight."

"This isn't very quick, is it?" Niall queries. "We usually run faster than this."

"So do we," I respond. "But we all raced yesterday, so we need to ease ourselves into it. Believe me; it will get quicker!"

We've run fully two miles before the pace begins to pick up. Even then, it's still quite steady. We complete five miles in around 33 minutes. By this point, Patrick's got yesterday's race out of legs, and decides to push on a little, taking Alan and Nathan with him.

Normally, I'd be there too, but today, that's not my priority. Moving up alongside Jon, I maintain a good steady pace, not quick, but fast enough to test the rest of the group. After a further two miles, we reach the turn-off point. The front three slow right down before turning around to face the rest of us.

"You guys carry on!" I call, pointing at the road ahead of them.

Turning back around, they resume their running. Reaching the turn-off a few seconds later, I bring the guys to a brief halt. The pleasing thing is that we're not as stretched out as I'd expected. Even Mike, who's bringing up the rear, is less than half a minute behind us.

"So they've still got three miles to go?" Niall enquires, nodding towards Patrick, Alan and Nathan, who are disappearing down the road ahead.

"Yeah," I confirm.

"There's no way I could do that!" he says firmly. "My legs are tired now!"

"I knew they would be," I say, smiling. "Don't worry; you'll soon get used to it."

With the group back together, we take a right turn, heading back towards the house. As we arrive, Jon, Niall, Shaun and I are together, with Rhys just a few yards behind us. I turn to check where Gary is. He's running with Dean, some distance back along the road. As they approach, I use my watch to count off the seconds. Finally, he makes it, roughly fifteen seconds down.

"Man!" he gasps, clearly very tired. "That was hard!"

"You've done well for your first time," I tell him. "The important thing is that you didn't give up. If you can, have a soak in the bath when you get home. It'll help your legs recover."

"Thanks!" he says, still struggling for air.

As we head indoors, I'm pleased that I said he could join us. Though not the most talented runner, he's tough, like Jon is. And like Jon, he'll be a useful addition to the squad.

The next few days are unremarkable. Scott's been sticking to his task, working on the fitness programme that the guys at the club have drawn up for him, and studying in between. He seems, finally, to have accepted the idea that for the next few months, this will be how he'll be spending his time.

In Wednesday's race, I run in much the same way as I have recently. I'm running okay, but at the moment, that extra bit that I had before Christmas just isn't there. To be honest, I didn't think it would be. But I'm not worried. Having next week off school will give me an opportunity to recharge my batteries. After that, provided things stay on track, I should start to get my edge back, or at least that's what I'm hoping.

It's Thursday evening. I'm ploughing through my maths homework when I get a call. Taking out my phone, I check the caller display. It's Bill Gardner, the builder who refurbished Scott's flat. I can't imagine why he's calling me.

"Hi Bill!" I answer. "I wasn't expecting you to call. What can I do for you?"

"I wondered if you might be able to help me out," he says. "A customer of mine, actually the son of someone I've done a lot of work for over the years, has bought what used to be a small industrial property, with planning permission to turn it into a live-work unit. There'll be an office on the ground floor, where the workshop used to be, and living accommodation on the first floor, which was previously used for storage. We'll need to design the living accommodation, because there's nothing up there at the moment. And we'll need plans drawn up, but it's such a small job, I can't get an architect to do it; they're all too busy. Well, you're perfectly competent. I wondered whether you might be interested. We'll pay you, of course."

Shit! With everything else I've had to deal with recently, I really shouldn't be taking on anything else. On the other hand, the opportunity to design something for real is too good to turn down.

"When were you thinking of?" I ask.

"Are you off school next week?" he asks.


"I thought you would be. Any chance you could meet with myself and the client on Sunday afternoon? He could brief you on what he wants and we could measure everything up. Hopefully, you could draw up the plans while you're off school. If you give me your address, I'll pick you up."

Saying it like that, he makes it sound really easy. Fortunately, I'm well on top of my schoolwork, and so I will have time. Even my maths has been going well. There's another benefit too. I need Scott to stay on task. If I'm short of things to do, I might be tempted to suggest that we go out somewhere. Right now, that's a distraction he doesn't need.

"Okay," I agree.

I give him the address and we agree that he'll pick me up at half past two. Mum and Dad won't be happy, but what was I supposed to do? I wasn't going to turn down an opportunity like that.

It's Friday afternoon. Rather than going to Scott's place as I usually would, I go straight home. Scott's arranged to pick me up at around 5:45 pm for our trip to Langston's. I'm just getting ready when I get a call. It's Franny.

"Hi!" he says brightly. "Are you off school next week?"

"Yeah; I'll be quite busy though."

"Any chance I could come over one of the days?"

"It's difficult; like I said I've got quite a bit on."

"Come on, man!" he persists. "I'm going to get bored silly, being here all week!"

The only real possibility is Tuesday. Scott will be at the club all morning and won't get home until around three. Mum and I are going to the parents' support group meeting in the evening, so by the time he gets back to the flat, Scott and I won't have much time together in any case.

"How would Tuesday work?" I ask.

"No problem!"

"Any chance you could get here a bit earlier? I've got stuff to do in the afternoon."

"Just a minute!" he says. "Let me check." Thirty seconds later, he's back. "There's a train that gets into yours and 10:40," he says. "Would that be okay?"

"Yeah, that's cool. There is one other thing. Don't come here with the idea that we're going to have sex. I don't care what you say; it's cheating. I'm just not comfortable with it."

"That's okay," he says casually. "If you don't want to, it won't happen." He pauses for a moment. "Hey! Would you like to see some pictures?"

"What sort of pictures?" I query.

"Nothing like the ones you drew! It's just me in my rugby kit."


Over the next couple of minutes, three pictures arrive on my phone. In the first one, Franny's standing to face the camera, while holding a rugby ball against his left thigh. In the second one, he's running with ball in hand, and in the third he's making a tackle. I'm impressed, the pictures showing off how good looking he is and what a great physique he's got.

"Nice pics!" I comment.

"Thanks!" he says. "Arlo took them. He's mad on photography."

"He's good!" I respond. "He probably wanted them to keep him warm at night when you're not there to keep him company."

"Yeah, something like that. I'd love to be able to visit him during the holidays, but he lives too far away, and it's a pig to get to."

"Okay," I tell him. "I'll see you next Tuesday."

It's quarter past eight when Scott and I leave Langston's. It's been another memorable evening, the wonderful food and superb service complemented perfectly by the elegant but unobtrusive surroundings.

For me, it was even better than the last time. First of all, both the maître d and Ewan, who was our waiter again, remembered us from our previous visit, which added a personal touch that I hadn't expected. In addition, for my main course, I chose the sea bass, something I've never eaten before. It was amazing!

Arriving back at the flat, I feel more relaxed and at peace than I have since Scott got injured. With music playing quietly in the background, we snuggle up on the sofa, chatting about this, that, and nothing in particular, just enjoying being together.

Shortly after ten, we head to the bedroom. Although emotionally intense, physically, our lovemaking is very gentle and affectionate. After the tough weeks we've been through, it seems just right.

A few minutes later, we snuggle up under the covers. With my head resting on Scott's chest, I wonder what the morning will bring. Will he want to try something more adventurous, or maybe be more assertive, like he was on Christmas Day? I guess I'll have to wait and see.

Once again, I wake up exactly where I was. There's just enough light for me to see my watch. It's twenty past seven. Sliding out of bed, I head to the bathroom for a pee and a quick freshen up. On my return, I slip back under the covers and snuggle up again.

"Morning, babe," Scott murmurs. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah, great thanks."

"Me too!" he says, stirring himself. "Back in a mo!"

He leaves the room. A few minutes later, he's back. Crawling into bed, he wraps his arms around me.

"So what d'you fancy this morning?" I ask, grinning mischievously.

"I fancy taking our time," he says dreamily. "You know, nothing too energetic, just enjoying being together."

"Cool," I respond.

We spend a delicious hour kissing, cuddling, fondling and sucking, before he eventually fucks me. It's probably the most laid-back sex we've ever had. It tells me what I already suspected. Although Scott's on the mend, he's lacking that 'confident as fuck, up for anything' attitude that he had before he got injured. I'm guessing that his recovery will have to progress a good deal further before he gets it back.

I get home at half past ten. I immediately settle down at my desk. If I'm going to do this project for Bill Gardner, I want to get my schoolwork finished first. Then I won't have to worry about it.

After lunch, with two or three hours' work still to do, I head back to my room. I'm working on a history essay when there's a tap at the door.

"Come in!" I call.

Dad appears, parking himself on the bed as I swing my chair around to face him.

"I just came to see what you were up to," he says, smiling. "It seemed a bit odd, when you've got a whole week off, that you've been working since you got home. We're not looking at some sort of crisis, are we?"

"No, not at all," I tell him. "When Scott got injured, you told me I had to put my schoolwork first, and I have. As far as that goes, I'm right where I need to be."

"So why are you rushing to do your homework now? From what Mum's told me, you ought to be using this time to relax."

"Bill Gardner, the guy who refurbished Scott's flat, called me during the week," I explain. "He needs some plans drawn up. Because it's only a small job, he can't get an architect to do it. They're all too busy. He asked me if I'd be interested in doing them. I said I would."

"Ian," Dad says, looking rather serious. "In the circumstances, I don't think that's a good idea. Mum tells me that you've been getting quite frazzled over the past few weeks. You shouldn't be taking on even more work. That's asking for trouble."

"I was," I admit, "but we're through that now. It took a while, but Scott's finally adapted to his new routine. Everything's back on track. As long as his recovery continues to progress as it has been, we'll be fine."

"I have to say that's been something of a disappointment," Dad says. "I thought he'd have been more resilient."

"That's what I thought initially. I think I've worked out why he isn't. Apart from one incident back when he was thirteen, he's not used to things going wrong. He works hard; he does what he's supposed to, and everything works out. From what I can tell, that's how it's always been. So when something does go wrong, he doesn't know how to deal with it."

"That makes sense," Dad agrees, nodding. "But I'm still not happy about you taking on extra work."

"Dad," I protest. "It's an opportunity for me to actually do something for real. Bill's picking me up tomorrow afternoon to take me to the place so we can measure everything up. Then he and the client will brief me on what they want to do with the space. From what Bill said to me, the place isn't that big, so the job should be pretty straightforward. It shouldn't take me all that long."

"Fair enough," he concedes. "But I want you to promise me one thing. If the job proves more difficult than you expect, you'll call Mr Gardner and tell him that he'll have to find someone else. Your health and wellbeing have to come first. Is that understood?"

"Yes, thanks Dad."

He leaves me to get on with my homework. I'm not entirely happy, but I have to admit, he does have a point.

It's Sunday afternoon. I'm waiting for Bill Gardner to arrive. Just before half past two, I see his white pick-up driving slowly along the road and come to a halt. As he walks up the drive, I open the front door.

"Hi Bill!" I say, opening the front door. "Great to see you! Come in for a minute. Dad wants to meet you."

He steps inside. Dad emerges from the lounge. The two of them exchange greetings.

"Obviously, we're delighted for Ian to get some practical experience," Dad says, getting straight to the point. "But he's had quite a bit on recently. We don't want him taking on more than he can manage."

"Oh, this isn't a big job," Bill assures him. "I'll make sure he's not overstretched."

"Thanks!" Dad says. "I'd better let you get on then!"

Bill and I make our way out. I am buzzing. Working on a project like this is exactly the sort of experience I need. Ten minutes later we reach the site. The client, Julian Archer, is waiting for us.

"This is Ian," Bill says, introducing me. "He'll be doing all the drawings so you can see exactly what you're going to get. We won't be doing anything structural, so it's no problem."

"Hi, Ian!" Julian says warmly, shaking my hand. "Bill showed me some pictures of the other flat you designed. If you can get this place to look like that, I'll be more than happy. Let's go inside."

The building is sound, but old and neglected. Converting it will require a great deal of work. As we go around, I make notes and take measurements, so I know exactly where everything is, and I take some pictures, which I can put into my art folder.

Downstairs, there's currently a large open-plan area, plus a washroom located in one corner of the building. It will all be given a complete refurb, including the installation of several more power sockets, but the basic layout will stay as it is. Drawing up the plans should only take me a couple of hours.

The upstairs is a different matter. At the moment, it's just a large open area that was previously used for storage. The space will have to be divided up using stud walls in order to create a lounge, a bedroom, a kitchen/diner and a bathroom.

"We'll need to put the bathroom above the downstairs washroom," Bill tells me. "And we'll put the kitchen next to it. That simplifies the plumbing."

"What about the rest of it?" I ask.

"Oh," he says nonchalantly. "You've got a good eye. We'll let you work out how best to use the space."

This was not what I was expecting. In one way, being given an almost blank canvas is very nice, but deciding what goes where is going to involve a great deal of work.

"Okay," Bill says, turning to Julian. "We'll meet back here same time next Sunday so you can have a look at what we've come up with."

After saying our goodbyes, we're on our way home.

"If possible, I'd like you to get the drawings completed by Thursday evening," Bill says. "That'll give me time to work out how much it's going to cost."

I nod my agreement. Underneath, I'm apprehensive. If Dad knew how big the job actually is, he would not be happy. It's now up to me to make a success of it.

It's Monday morning. Having finished my homework, I clear my desk so that I can set up my drawing board. After taking a piece of A1 paper from the pad and attaching it to the board, I'm ready to start.

Using the measurements that we took yesterday, I carefully draw out the plan of the ground floor, showing where the door is, where the windows and stairs are, and where all the power sockets will be. Finally, within the washroom, I draw in where the various facilities will be. By midday, the ground floor's sorted.

After a leisurely snack lunch, I begin work on the upper floor. Having positioned the bathroom above the washroom as instructed, the kitchen/diner fits nicely between the bathroom and the front of the building, and will include a large window that looks out onto the street. So far so good.

Having decided to leave making a detailed plan of the kitchen until later, I set about fitting the lounge and the bedroom into the remaining space. That's where the problems start. Although in theory there's plenty of room, because of where the stairs are, either one of the rooms will be very small, or they will both be odd shapes.

As neither alternative represents a good use of space, I go back to thinking about where I put the kitchen/diner. I try moving it to the other side of the bathroom, but that creates more problems than it solves. Shit!

Feeling frustrated, I check my watch. It's nearly four o'clock. Apart from a break for lunch, I've been working all day. It's not surprising that I'm starting to tire. Deciding that I've done enough for now, I pack my things away, confident that when I come back to it, I'll find the solution I'm looking for.

After chilling out for an hour, I cook dinner for myself and Mum.

"You've remembered that we're going to the support group meeting tomorrow, haven't you?" she asks.

"Yes, of course," I say, smiling. "I'm looking forward to seeing Robbie and Noah again. I feel a bit guilty, actually. I've been so busy; I haven't spoken to Robbie since before Christmas."

As soon as dinner's over, I head to Scott's place. I'm pleased to find that he's been working all day too. We spend a very relaxed couple of hours together before he drops me back at home.

It's Tuesday morning. I'm eating breakfast when I get a call. It's Franny.

"Hi!" he says brightly. "Just checking that everything's okay for this morning."

"Sure!" I say. "You're getting the earlier train, so I'll see you at twenty to eleven."

"Cool!" he responds. "I'll see you then!"

After finishing breakfast, I consider getting back to sorting out the design for the Live-Work unit. I check the time. It's half past eight. To get to the station on time without having to rush, I'll need to go out by ten to ten.

It's not long enough. By the time I've got everything set up, I'll have less than an hour to do any actual work. It's not worth the trouble. I'll get back to it tomorrow.

By ten to ten, I'm ready to go. With the weather being cool and overcast, I put on my coat and gloves before making my way out. As usual, I get to the station with a few minutes to spare. I check the arrivals board. Franny's train is forecast to arrive three minutes late. I can live with that.

At quarter to eleven, he saunters through the ticket barrier, dressed in much the same way that I am.

"Hi!" I greet. "Good to see you again! D'you want to come back to the house?"

"Sure!" he says. "It's cold today!"

We walk briskly to the bus station. Glancing across, I realise that he's now at least as tall as I am.

"How are you getting along with your new toy?" I ask, as we settle ourselves on the bus.

"You mean the sax?" he queries. "Oh, it's coming along really well. At school, I was playing it pretty much all the time, no problem. But now I'm at home, Lorna and Alice complain every time I pick it up. Anyway, Mum did her usual peacemaker trick, meaning that I've been limited to an hour in the morning and an hour in the afternoon. At other times, I play the clarinet or the piano."

"Oh, right!" I say, smiling.

I'm not going to say anything, but I can understand why Lorna and Alice have been complaining. Compared to the other instruments, the saxophone is very loud. The sound must carry all over the house.

We get off the bus. After another brisk walk, we're back at our place.

"I'm making tea!" I announce, letting us in. "D'you want one?"


We head into the kitchen. I put the kettle on.

"How are you and Scott getting along?"

"Oh, we're cool," I say guardedly.

"I just wondered," he probes. "I mean, he's injured, isn't he?"

"How did you know that?"

"When you were at our place, you told us who they were playing. And I knew his first name, so afterwards, I worked out who it was. He's good! It's a shame about him getting injured. That was a dreadful tackle!"

"Yeah; Dad and I saw it."

"Gorman got a six-match ban for it. That's double what they usually get. And his club fined him two weeks wages. That's an expensive tackle!"

"Yeah, but it's still not very fair, is it?" I suggest. "He'll be back playing in five or six weeks. Scott's going to be out for far longer than that."

"So where is he today?"

"Tuesdays and Fridays, he goes over to the club so they can give him some physio and see how his recovery's progressing. I'll be going to his place this afternoon. That's why I asked you to come over a bit earlier."

"And how's it going?"

"Okay, at the moment; it's really too soon to say."

"He must hate not being able to play."

"Oh, yeah! Playing's his life. It really hurts that he can't do it at the moment. What made is worse is that this is the first serious injury he's ever had. When it first happened, he was really down. It took a while for us to get him back on track."

"Right! So who d'you mean by 'us'?" Franny queries.

"Myself and his mum and dad."

"That can't have been much fun for you."

"It wasn't. But we're partners. I just did what I needed to."

"Sure! Can we go to your room? It's more comfortable up there."

I'm caught in two minds. Based on previous experience, I suspect that the real reason that he wants us to go to my room is so that he can talk me into having sex with him. On the other hand, it would seem churlish to insist on staying down here. With a few misgivings, I lead the way.

"So, enough about me and Scott" I say, sitting on my chair and swinging it around to face the bed. "What have you been up to?"

"I had an audition and an interview at Chetham's" he says excitedly. "The facilities are amazing, and the opportunity to work with so many other talented players will be fantastic. Well, the audition went great, and I guess I did okay in the interview, so they've offered me a place."

"You're going then?"

"Yeah, it was too good an opportunity to turn down. They'll even encourage me to play jazz, if that's what I want to do. I wasn't sure they would, but apparently, several of Britain's top jazz players studied there. There are even a couple of tutors who specialise in it."

"Sounds perfect! So what's the problem?"

"Well, apart from the fact that I'll still have to board, there's no competitive sport. I'll miss that, rugby especially."

"Well, I guess you can't have everything."

"Yeah, it's weird, isn't it? When you're little, you think it must be great to grow up and choose what you want to do. But when you do start growing up, you find that if you choose one thing, you have to give up something else, so really you're no better off. Mind you, I have had one nice little bonus. D'you remember I told you about Arlo?" he says, taking out his phone. "Well, here he is."

He hands it over. It's displaying a picture of a boy I'd guess to be about twelve, with sparkling blue eyes, a mop of loose fair curls and a cheeky smile.

"Very cute!" I comment, licking my lips.

"And three weeks ago, he finally said I could fuck him."

"Lucky you!"

"Yeah! One evening we'd sneaked into the boys' room, as we quite often do. I was sitting on the toilet, sucking him off. I got my hand between his legs, and started fingering his bum. Right out of nowhere, he whispered, 'You can do me if you want' So I stood up. He put some K-Y on my dick. Then he bent over the toilet and let me fuck him."

"And?" I enquire, my cock already getting hard.

"Man! It was amazing!" he breathes, his eyes sparkling. "Shooting my spunk up his bum was just the best feeling ever!"

"And what was his reaction?"

"I think it hurt a bit when I stuck it in, but once I got going, I started playing with his prick. He was well into it! He spurted while I was up him; only a few drops, but he definitely came. Anyway, for the past couple of weeks, we've done it every chance we get."

I know exactly where he's coming from. He's reminded me of my holiday in France, and the unbridled joy of shooting my load into Sasha's cute little bum. I'm hard as a chocolate frog just thinking about it.

"D'you want to have some fun?" Franny asks.

"Franny!" I protest. "You're impossible! We talked about this when you called me. I explained why I didn't want to do any sex-stuff with you, and you said it was okay."

"What I said was that it was okay if you didn't want to do it. Well, you say you don't, but the bulge in your jeans tells a rather different story."

"So? I'm horny; not exactly surprising given what we've been talking about. That doesn't mean I want to cheat on my boyfriend."

"You take everything far too seriously!" he insists. "You work your socks off, the same as I do, plus you've been helping Scott get his head back together after he got injured. When d'you ever do anything just to have fun? You need to cut yourself some slack occasionally."

I have nothing to say. Deep down, I know I ought to stick to my guns, but I don't have the stomach to continue the argument.

"It's not as if you're hurting anyone," he says, much more gently. "And I know for certain that you enjoyed it the last time."

"Okay," I agree, bowing to the inevitable.

Having discarded our shoes and socks, we set about undressing each other. In not much more than a minute, we're down to our underwear. That's when I realise. He's now around an inch taller than me, and his shoulders are broader than they were the last time he was here. To complete the picture, he's got the beginnings of a six-pack, and his thighs are simply magnificent, elegant but powerful-looking.

Even though he doesn't have an ounce of fat on him, I'd guess he must weigh at least one hundred and forty pounds, as compared to my one-seventeen. Wow! That's a wonderful physique for a thirteen-year old. I'll admit it's not a complete surprise. His dad, my Uncle Gavin, is a big guy, and there's no fat on him either.

Sitting on the side of the bed, I peel off Franny's skin-tight trunks. As I expected, he's grown down there too. His cock's as long as mine now. It's still not quite as thick, but that's just a matter of time. His pubic hair is confined to the area immediately above his dick, but is much thicker than it was the last time I saw it, and his balls seem to be hanging lower. He is stunning!

Moistening my lips, I take him into my mouth. Sucking him steadily, I gradually work my way down until I've got the whole thing, the head going right down my throat. I visualise cute-boy Arlo taking this beauty up his tight little bum. I bet he loves it! I wouldn't mind being a fly on the wall while that was going on!

After a couple of minutes, we swap places. Within a matter of seconds, Franny's sucking me as well as anyone ever has. The sensations are absolutely wonderful. I'll say this for him. Although he is quite manipulative, when it comes to the crunch, he always keeps up his end of the bargain.

After a while, we snuggle up on the bed. Wrapping our arms around each other, our lips meet in a delicious, sensuous kiss. Running his hand down my back Franny begins to gently massage my arse. Finally, he alights on my crack, steadily moving his finger along until he's tickling my bum-hole. Reaching around, I move his hand away.

"Bad boy!" I say, gently scolding him. "That's off limits, remember?"

"It was worth a try," he answers, grinning.

If the circumstances were different, I'd let him fuck me in any position he wanted, but we are where we are. I'll be seeing Scott in a little over three hours. There's no way I can risk arousing his suspicions.

"Want to sixty-nine, then?" Franny asks.


We move into position, with us lying on our left sides, just as we have previously. Oh, fuck! Not only is Franny stunningly beautiful and as horny as hell, as I noted the last time he was here, he's an outstanding performer.

We suck each other hungrily, both of us, like, totally going for it. Inevitably, the tingling sensations become more and more intense, until they're almost unbearable. Sensing that I'm about to cum, I take hold of Franny's head. Just as I begin to ejaculate in his mouth, he spurts in mine. Oh, wow! That was amazing! From what I know, oral sex doesn't get any better!

After we've had lunch, Franny and I head into town. At twenty past two, I leave him at the station. With a little time to kill, I wander back through the town centre and look around some of the shops. Finally, I make my way to Scott's place, trying to look like I've had a perfectly normal day, and that nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

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