An Extremely Unlikely Story

I put my finger under his chin and forced him to look at me. He was still very upset, I could see.

"Tell me," I said.

"I... I can't," he replied. "I promised."

"Tell me, baby," I said again.

"But... I promised."

"Shh." I kissed his forehead. "It's OK. You're not in trouble and no-one is going to get in trouble. Just...tell me."

"I promised," he repeated, but whispering this time. I knew his resistance was almost finished.

"Come here," I said and pulled his head down onto my chest. "Tell me," I repeated one more time.

There was a period of silence that seemed to last a lot longer than it probably did. I said nothing. Julian was going to tell me - his lack of protest about promises made that clear. I just had to wait.

Finally, the story was told. It didn't take long, but I won't repeat it here. Suffice to say, things were even more horrific than I had imagined. By the time he hit eighteen, he had been abused physically and verbally and not a day after he turned eighteen, he was abused sexually for some time.

The physical abuse had started with a man who was not his father ("at least, I don't think so. Mum never seemed to know who my father was, so it's possible, I guess"). That guy had been moved on by Julian's mother after the bruises on his legs and body became too difficult to explain away, but then, a few guys later on, ("she liked new guys" Julian said, "many and often",) another beat up on him again.

Not long after came foster care and things went from bad to worse. Initially, he didn't land a foster family, but ended up in a residential where, being the youngest, the smallest and the least sporty, he was bullied, constantly by the other kids there.

Eventually, he did get placed with a family where things were good for a while, until another boy turned up. It was this boy - maybe a year older than Julian - who did most of the damage to the poor kid and, worse, who gave him the nickname 'sissy-boy'. The next part of the tale was harrowing, I'm not going to lie. I hated hearing it, but by now the words were pouring out of Julian like water from a burst main. He couldn't stop talking and I couldn't stop hearing. I admit it; it scarred me.

But whatever scars it gave me, it had been a lot worse for Julian. As the years had progressed (and, despite his youth, it had been years), Julian became less convinced of his own worth as a person. He was, as he put it, just a plaything. An object to be beaten and abused and then pushed away, abandoned. Until the next time.

Eventually, his abuser had left foster care as - at eighteen - he was no longer the responsibility of the state. That had helped, for a while, and the last few months of Julian's time in foster care had been quite pleasant.

But, as with his former foster brother, at eighteen, Julian was tossed out onto the street. OK, not quite so dramatic; there's a whole raft of things set up by the government to help people when they first leave foster care, but - in effect - that was what happened.

Sadly, nothing changes the way a person feels about themselves and, eighteen and alone, Julian had been forced into sex by three heavyset guys. That had destroyed almost all of what little self-worth he had left and he had gone down a path of self-destruction that few get off easily.

"I don't even know how many guys I've had," he said. "Fifty? Sixty? I don't think it's a hundred. Not yet, anyway." The tears had stopped, now. He was, as the song said, all cried out. He was all spoken out, too. He just lay with his head on my chest.

"Oh, baby," I said, stroking his hair. "I'm so sorry. If I'd known..." But, if I'd known, what? I wouldn't have fucked him? I'm knew that was a big, steaming pile of bullshit. I had my needs and I was determined to meet them. Julian was just the guy who was going to help me.

"It's OK," Julian said and I realised that this was probably the first time he hadn't called me 'Daddy'. I didn't really miss it. "I know."

"No," I said and kissed the top of his head. "I shouldn't have... I mean... it's not fair. You deserve better. You deserved better. From me, I mean."

"So, what," Julian said, turning his head to look at me for the first time in forever, "you're going to ask every guy you fuck for their life story first in future?" I shook my head. "No. Of course not. There's lots of guys out there like me, you know. Those sites you look on for casual fucks are full of them."

"They're not all like that," I countered.

"I didn't say they were. Just that a lot are."

I didn't have an answer to that.

"Do you know," Julian said after a few moments, still staring at me, "you've got lovely eyes."

"What?"

"I mean it. They look... nice."

"It's pitch fucking black in here," I said. "How can you see what my eyes look like?"

"I can," he insisted. "The light outside reflects off them, even through the curtains. I can see them. They look nice."

"Thanks, I guess."

"You know," he said again, "I've never once looked a guy in the face when he fucks me. All those guys, rammed up my arse, using me for their kicks. I've seen more pillows and couch cushions and carpets than I can count. But never a guys face. I don't know what a guy looks like when he cums. I don't know if he's smiling or grimacing or if his eyes are open or closed or anything." He turned his face away from me again. "I just thought I'd say," he finished.

That was the answer, I realised. How I could make things better. Not completely better, perhaps, but better.

I slid myself out from underneath him and lay on top of him. He stared at me with a look of fright on his face that I felt ashamed that I had put there. And so, to try and make up for it, I kissed him.

Not a light peck on the cheek or even a quick kiss on the lips. I put everything I was into this kiss. I parted his lips and plunged in my tongue and I fucking kissed this kid like my life depended on it.

He resisted at first, as I had guessed he might, but I was an insistent fucker and he soon began to melt into the kiss as well. He was inexperienced, that was clear (and, inside, I felt a bit shit about that), but he learned quickly. Soon we were kissing like long lost lovers and I had a feeling of exhilaration flow through me when I heard him moan for the first time. A feeling which grew when he moaned for a second time.

As we kissed, our hands moved of their own accord. Mine first, with confidence. His, more reticent, but his own confidence increased as I didn't stop him or tell him what to do. We held each other, played with each others' hair, caressed each others' arms, legs, sides and faces.

Between us, I could feel my cock growing hard, as it had softened during Julian's tale. But even better, I could feel Julian getting hard as well. He broke off the kiss and looked down at his growing dick. "I'm sorry," he said.

"What the fuck for," I asked.

"I'm getting... it does it on its own," he spluttered.

"It's fucking supposed to," I countered.

"But I didn't think... I was told..."

"What? You can't get hard?"

"I'm the sissy-boy, remember," Julian said. "My pleasure is secondary."

"Not to me," I said.

"It was before," Julian said and the look he gave me was so accusatory that I felt I ought to die of shame.

"That was before," I said. "Not now." So saying, I lifted myself up a little and held his cock. I remembered the way Julian told me one guy had practically tortured Julian's cock when he got hard. Me - I caressed that cock and stroked it and had the joy of watching Julian's eyes flutter a little.

"Holy fuck," he whispered.

I licked my palm and put it back on his cock, using my saliva to lubricate it. After a few moments, Julian's cock began producing its own lubrication.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," he whispered. "Fuck, that's so nice!"

"Has no-one ever done this for you," I asked him.

He shook his head.

"Then you're a handjob virgin no more," I smiled at him.

Julian snickered. "I ain't been a virgin for some time," he said.

I ignored this and moved down his body. He tensed again as if petrified that, despite all I had done in the last few minutes, I was still going to hurt him. I put his beautiful cock in my mouth and he tensed further, gasping and wincing, but he relaxed once he realised that I wasn't biting down, but actually sucking his cock.

"Oh, holy fuck," he groaned.

"Mmm-hmm" was all I could murmur. My mother had always taught me that it was rude to talk with my mouth full.

The vibrations from my response had a wonderful effect on Julian, however, and he moaned like the proverbial three-dollar whore. "Shit! Fuck! Wow!"

Suddenly he tensed again, but this time for a good reason.

"Shit! I'm gonna cum! I'm... gonna... OH, FUCK!" He blasted my mouth with cum. So much cum! It was a cum for the ages! It seemed to go on forever. I swallowed as best I could, but there was just too much and I've never been that good at the whole suck-and-swallow two-things-at-once bit. Some escaped and dribbled down my face.

And still he came. On and on, like one of those freight trains in 1960's cartoons that go across the screen for ages. I swallowed. I choked. I spat. I swallowed again.

Meanwhile, Julian's toes were curled up almost inside his feet and his hips were raised about twelve inches off the bed. From his mouth came a litany of profanity to make a whole boatload of sailors feel inadequate; "Shit! Fuck! Shit! Twat! Bastard! Fuck! Shit! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck-fuck!"

Finally, after an ocean-load of cum had gone either down my throat or down my chin, he subsided. His cock slipped from my mouth and his butt bounced off the mattress. He was gasping.

"Wow," was all he could say after a few moments.

"Mmm," was all I could say as I still tried to swallow what was left in my mouth. My face was plastered with cum.

Julian pulled me up to him and kissed me, cum-mouth and all. He licked every last drop from my face and then kissed me again. Finally, he pulled away. "Thank you, Daddy," he said.

"Not Daddy. Not any more," I said.

Julian looked crestfallen. "Really? But I love the idea of you being my Daddy," he said. "Honestly. This isn't a sex thing," he tried to explain, "I meant... like... really."

I nodded. He needed this; who was I to deny him? "OK," I said.

"Yay," he muttered and kissed me again.

I won't say how much of a bruise it was to my ego that, part way through this last kiss, he yawned in my face!

"Oh, shit," he yawned. "Sorry, Daddy!"

"It's OK, baby," I said. "I know. Daddy's tired too!"

"Sleep with me, Daddy," Julian asked. "No-one has ever slept with me before."

I nodded and we slipped under the duvet. We kissed once more and I don't even remember my head hitting the pillow before I was flat out.

Julian stayed with me for about four months. Jade loved having him around, too. He was smart and funny and...fuck, I loved that kid. He couldn't have made me more proud had he been my own son.

As the days went by, Julian started to become less self-deprecating. He began to believe in his own worth a little more and came to trust Jade and me. It really seemed like we were on a good path.

What happened with Wayne was not what went wrong - I have to believe this. For a start, Julian knew all about it before it happened and seemed cool with it. For another thing, the whole Wayne thing happened only a week or so after Jade first stumbled across Julian and I together and over three months before... Well. We'll get to that.

Jade had determined by now that Wayne was a dick. Moreover, he was a cheating scumbag. She could deal with him being a dick. She could not deal with him being a cheating scumbag.

The day after Jade stumbled across her old man in a young guys arse for the first time, she went round to see Wayne who - if you remember - had fallen ill after eating prawns on their date the night before.

She turned up unannounced at Wayne's street and was heading to the door when she saw it open. There, inside, stood Wayne and, what Jade referred to as "that fucking skank-slut, Sophie". I don't know Sophie - even now. Couldn't pick her out of a line up if she had a neon arrow pointing at her. But Jade knew Sophie and she didn't like her.

She liked the fact that Wayne had his tongue down Sophie's throat and was attempting to lick her bowels from the top down even less.

Rather than confront Wayne or yell or scream, Jade simply turned around and came home. She didn't cry until she was in my arms.

"What can I do, Dad?" she asked me. I didn't know.

"Sorry, baby," I said. "I can't help you there."

"I can," came Julian's voice from the kitchen. Jade hadn't even noticed he was there.

"Go on."

"Turn the little fucker," Julian said. It was, by far, the most sadistic and vicious thing I ever heard him say.

"Turn him? Turn him where?"

"Not where, baby," Julian said, coming over to us and stroking Jade's face to dry her tears. "Turn him what."

"Turn him...what?"

"Gay," Julian said, simply.

Jade burst with laughter. "I hardly think so," she said. "I've slept with the prick! He loves giving it to girls; trust me."

"He's a guy," Julian said. "Eighteen? Nineteen?"

"Nineteen," Jade nodded.

"Perfect. He's at that age where he's all confused about his sexuality."

Jade looked incredulously at him. "I told you," she insisted, "he likes girls!"

"Don't be so sure," Julian said. "Tell me - does he like doggy-style?"

"I hardly think my daughter wants to discuss..." I began before being interrupted.

"Yeah," Jade jumped in. "But I do too. It's so much deeper that way."

"It is," Julian said. "But it also shows he likes to see your arse."

"It is a nice arse," Jade said and wiggled it.

"Cute as a ten-year-old boys," Julian agreed. "Doesn't do it for me," he continued with a grin, "but I can almost see the appeal."

"Is there a point to this," I asked, mildly frustrated.

"Sure," Julian said. "Does he like anal?"

"Julian!"

"Yes," Jade said. "So what?"

"Does he ask you to play with his arse?"

"No."

"Pity. If he did, he's definitely gay. But I think we can fix that. I have an idea."

Julian told us his idea which, I admit, I found both amusing and highly unlikely to work. In fact, things went almost exactly to plan, so I won't spoil things here by telling it to you.

A few days later, Jade agreed to meet Wayne at our house. She hadn't told him yet that she knew he was a cheating little twat-arse. That would come later. She agreed to meet him at 11 but Wayne, being Wayne, turned up about thirty minutes early.

"Sorry," I said, as I answered the door, "Jade's gone out and isn't back yet."

"She told me to meet her here. At 11."

"Well," I said, looking at my watch, "it's a bit early yet. Come in and I'll see where she is."

Wayne, having no idea how the next hour was going to completely change his life, came in. I texted Jade. I got a reply. I told Wayne something different from what the text actually said, however.

"She's running a bit late. She says she'll be here in about 30-40 minutes. Get a drink and sit down if you want."

"Sure," Wayne said, grabbing a drink from the fridge and sitting on the sofa, since that was the most directly in front of the TV.

Perfect.

I grabbed a glass of orange and sat right next to him. I was watching a rerun of the darts (a sport I still don't understand how I got into, but that I was now almost obsessed with) and Wayne simply watched it because it was on.

I started subtly. So subtly, Wayne had no idea what was going on until it was far too late to do anything about it. Each time I picked up my drink from the coffee table, my arm rubbed against the side of his leg. Each time I put the glass down, the same. It had a mild, but noticeable effect.

I started to rub my leg. "It keeps cramping up," I said by way of an explanation, "so I have to massage it every so often to stop it from freezing up on me when I sit down for long periods of time." Each rub of my leg saw the back of my hand stroking Wayne's leg next to me.

"Sure," Wayne said, but with a slight hitch in his voice that, had I not been listening for it, I would have missed.

After a few minutes of this, I went for broke. I could see a tent appearing in Wayne's crotch. This was working much better than I had expected.

I started to rub Wayne's leg instead of mine. I considered coming up with an excuse, but didn't bother, since he didn't ask.

The tent started to become more pronounced. In response, I started to move my down strokes closer to his crotch. Wayne's breathing began to get heavier. I honestly don't think he even knew.

Suddenly, I rubbed the top of my hand, just once, against his growing bulge and he gasped, lightly. Gotcha, I knew.

I repeated the move a couple of times and the gasps became louder. "Do you like that," I asked, unnecessarily.

"Uh. Yeah. I guess," he muttered. There was a confusion on his face as he tried to understand why he wasn't telling me to stop or to fuck off. But he wasn't.

"Good," I said. "I want you to like it." I chucked all pretence now and simply rubbed his bulge through his pants.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered. Of course, Wayne had no idea about my homosexual side - he'd never met Julian and Jade hadn't mentioned anything to him, so this was completely out of the blue.

"Nice," I said. "I do like a young, hard cock."

"It's... I'm not... I'm not... hard," he mumbled. Odd. I expected the whole 'I'm not gay' thing instead. I ignored it.

"It gets harder," I asked, knowing full well that it did. It was stiff, but still not straight up, so I knew it had a little further to go.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Much."

Bullshit, kid, I thought. "Sounds nice," I said.

I moved my hand around and re-arranged the waistband of his tracksuit pants, so that his cock could get stiff without encumbrance. Wayne said nothing and just watched me. Saying nothing myself, I put my hand inside and fished out his hardening cock.

"Very nice," I said.

"Er... thanks?"

I stroked his cock for a few moments. It grew, a little, and was fully erect. Inwardly, I smiled. He wasn't small, but he wasn't big. But at this precise moment, he probably felt he was twelve inches or better.

I leaned forward and licked the bulbous head of his cock. He gasped and squeaked. "Fuck! Oh, shit," he muttered.

"You like?"

Wayne nodded. His eyes were closed and his head was thrown back. "Do it again. Please," he begged.

"Love to," I said and did.

"Fuck!"

If he liked that, he was going to love this. I put his cock in my mouth and licked it all the way to the root.

"Holy fuck!"

I had a gag reflex, but I knew how to get around it. I repositioned myself and went at it. In a moment or two, his entire cock was in my mouth.

"Shit! Fuck! Wow! So good!"

I stopped sucking him. This was all part of the plan.

"What? Why?" He was almost distraught!

"You want me to carry on?"

"Fuck, yeah!"

"Well, get those pants off, then," I said. "They're getting in the way."

Wayne practically leapt off the sofa and pulled his pants to his ankles before sitting back down.

"Much better," I said and returned to my place between his legs.

I am not the worlds' greatest cock-sucker, though I'm not bad at if I do say so myself. But then, it's hard to be bad at it as long as you keep your teeth out of the way. Wayne, who I doubted had a huge amount of experience at having his cock sucked, presumably thought I was fucking brilliant at it at that precise moment, however.

I went all out and Wayne stumbled from coherent words like "fuck, shit, yeah, wow" and the like to a jumble of fluff that meant absolutely nothing, such as "mmpph, bggglle, umphh, ymmmaah!" No, me neither.