Jamie Lawrence

Jamie Lawrence - Chapter Twenty Two

Warning

This story contains graphic description of sex acts betweens members of the same sex. If accessing material such as this is illegal in your country, province, or state, please do not continue reading.

The characters contained within this story are entirely fictional and should be taken as such. Any resemblance to any person(s) living or dead is entirely coincidental.

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Jamie Lawrence - Chapter Twenty Two

It was Wednesday morning, and having reached the bedroom door, Darren immediately noticed a problem he hadn't foreseen. As long as he was holding the tray of food he had just prepared for Kyle, there was no way he was going to be able to open the it.

He was not to be deterred, however, and in a display of skill only to be rivalled by professional acrobats, Darren managed to stand on one leg, snake his big toe around the handle, pull it down and allow the door to open, all without the plates moving an inch.

He did a little victory dance involving his hips wriggling about and his cock waving about inside his boxers. This earned him an odd look from Kiki before he walked into the bedroom where his Angel was sleeping serenely. He slid the tray onto the bedside table and leaned over the bed.

"Ky-yle," he sang. "Wakey wakey." He kissed Kyle's bare shoulder.

Kyle stirred slightly, raising his head an inch or so before seemingly giving up and allowing it to fall back down.

Darren chuckled and tried again. He leaned right down to Kyle's ear and whispered "Angel, I have brekky for you." He kissed Kyle's earlobe.

Kyle rolled over slowly, his eyes only half open. "Where's the tortoise?" he mumbled.

Again Darren chuckled. "I'll find him later. Come on, I have bagels for you," he said in the same sing-song voice.

Kyle sat up in bed and as he did, the sheets came away from his body, exposing his hairless chest and cute little nipples. Darren couldn't help but stare and unconsciously lick his lips. He shook his head to regain his senses.

"Here. It's grilled mushroom and tomato on a wholewheat bagel."

Kyle scratched at his neck and smacked his lips. "Thirsty," he said lamely. It always made Darren laugh that Kyle was so anti-mornings.

Darren went back to his tray and offered Kyle a choice. "Cup of tea, or breakfast smoothie?"

"Tea," said Kyle, putting his hands out like a baby reaching for his bottle.

Darren handed over the brew and watched Kyle down nearly half of it in one go. Usually, once he had had his first brew, Kyle would wake up and become his usual bouncy self.

"Mmm, that's better. Thanks sweetie." He leaned in and gave Darren a noisy kiss. He grabbed a bagel and started to chew away. "Very yummy," he approved.

"If you eat that quickly enough, we can have a little bit of fun before you go to work," said Darren before sucking on his straw as suggestively as he could.

Kyle raised his eyebrows. "Hmm." He opened his mouth as wide as it would go and took the biggest bite he could. "Challenge accepted," he said through his mouthful.

Gerry rubbed at his stubbled cheek and slurped down another gulp of coffee. He felt wretched this morning, and he had only himself to blame. He had had one too many whiskys at the bar and now he was paying the price.

Still, he had dragged himself out of his bed at six o'clock and trudged down the stairs to sit in front of his laptop.

Anthony Walker's case was the furthest thing from his mind. He was taking Richard's advice and Googling the suicide statistics for the LGBT community. Each time he looked at a number he would think to himself "Ah, that's not that bad."

And then he would compare it to the national average and he would wince. Finally, he clicked onto a page that seemed to be a summary of the statistics.

'Recent data has suggested that LGB teenagers are three to six times more

likely to attempt suicide than heterosexual teens. They are also six times

more prone to depression, four times more likely to engage in self-injurious

activities, and three times more likely to develop drug and alcohol

dependencies.'

Each comparison rang an alarm bell in Gerry's mind, but the final remark on the page was the most troubling for him.

'The rate of attempted suicide in LGB teens who have felt rejected by their

family as a result of their orientation is even greater. A person who feels

rejected, especially by a parent, is eight times more likely to attempt

suicide.'

Gerry thought back to what Richard had said. 'Decide if you really want to make it worse.'

He didn't, but he was going to need help. Two clicks later, he had found it.

Matty and Jamie were sitting together in the cafeteria of Bury College. Each only had one lesson left for the day and were excited to be getting home.

"Why are you looking so happy?" asked Jamie, having glanced up from his German homework.

Matty hadn't realised he had been 'looking' happy, though he had to admit that he was definitely feeling it. Oliver, his wonderful boyfriend, was standing in line to pay for his food and kept looking over at Matty.

Every time he did, he would smile bashfully and look away, blushing. He had been acting like that since Matty had given him his first blow job, and Matty thought it was just adorable.

"I dunno," said Matty to Jamie. "Today's a good day I guess."

Oliver came over carrying his plate and sat down next to Matty before cutting into his baked potato with tuna and coleslaw.

Matty propped his head up on his arm and watched Oliver eat. He could feel a silly smile on pulling at his face, but he couldn't help it.

"Oh, now I see," said Jamie. "I'll just leave you boys to it, shall I?" He jumped up, casting a knowing look at the pair. "See you lovebirds later." With that, he gathered up his books and ran off.

Matty continued to watch Oliver without saying a word. Occasionally, Oliver would look back, blush, and return to his meal. "Stop staring at me," he said, smiling. "You're making me blush."

"You're beautiful," said Matty.

Oliver hid behind his hair, but Matty didn't miss the smile that lit up his perfect face.

Matty grabbed Oliver around the waist and pulled him into his lap. He kissed Oliver gently on the lips while he ran a hand through his hair.

"Matty, people are watching us," said Oliver sounding alarmed.

"Let them watch. Maybe they'll learn a thing or two." And with that they kissed again.

Johnny was feeling anxious. He was sitting in the lounge, wringing his hands while the BBC newscaster chatted about the upcoming US electoral debate.

It had been nearly thirty-six hours since his last drink and his resolve was feeling a little delicate. In the interest of keeping his hands and mind busy, he found himself a pair of Marigolds and set about scrubbing the kitchen cabinets.

While he worked, he listened to some of his favourite music from the eighties, most of which was Queen and Black Sabbath with some Meatloaf thrown in for good measure.

When Bohemian Rhapsody came on and it arrived at the point where Mike Myers and his friends start head banging, Johnny thought it would be a marvellous idea to join in. One violent move later and he was flying backwards off the worktop. He landed in a heap on the kitchen floor, laughing at his own stupidity.

Jamie appeared over him at that point. He looked disapprovingly down at his father. "Dad, you really shouldn't be up on the side in your state. Are you hurt?"

Johnny almost said 'Yes'. Jamie's assumption he was drunk had cut him to the quick, though he fully understood where it had come from. "No, I'm fine son."

Jamie offered Johnny his hand and helped him to his feet. "What were you doing up there anyway?"

"Cleaning the cupboards. Wanted to keep my hands busy until it's time for me to head out." Johnny pulled off a Marigold with a loud 'SNAP'. "Are you boys hungry?" he asked, having spotted Shane standing unobtrusively by the door. "I could do you some lunch."

Jamie still seemed distant, like he didn't want to be in the room, or even in the conversation. "No thanks, Dad. We only popped in to drop off my bag. I've got my first riding lesson today."

"Riding?" asked Johnny, confused. "Motorbike?"

"No." Jamie smiled, looking back at Shane. "Shane bought me horse riding lessons."

"That's very extravagant of you, Shane," said Johnny, feeling outmanned. He hadn't gotten Jamie anything for his birthday and Shane had given him something incredible.

"Nothing's too good for my Jamie," said Shane, almost matter-of-factly.

Johnny looked at his son. "You're not wrong there." Johnny could remember the day Jamie was born. He could remember holding the squishy little thing, afraid he was going to break him. He remembered promising the innocent little thing the world. He remembered swearing to be the best father in the world.

As he watched his son turn away from him with an almost cursory 'goodbye', Johnny felt like a failure. Was it already too late for him to salvage his relationship with his son?

Callum carefully resisted the urge to take Darius's hand, though it looked so inviting. Unfortunately, they were still in school and had to be careful. The last thing he wanted was to be outed, or to out Darius. Instead he settled for walking side by side with him, allowing his arm to occasionally brush against his.

"So, can I come round to yours? Or is your uncle still angry?" asked Darius quietly.

"I dunno if he's angry. I haven't seen him since it happened. I've been staying at Jamie's with him and Shane."

Darius shifted minutely; a movement Callum caught. Darius was uncomfortable, and Callum thought he knew why. "Hey, it's not your fault. Just dumb luck."

"I guess." Darius hesitated. "So, you wanna come round mine? We can play on my Xbox, and we've got a trampoline in the garden. It's actually my sister's, but she won't mind."

Callum's eyes went wide. "S-so, I'd be, like, meeting your family?"

"Well, you'd meet my Mum, bro and sis. Dad's at work 'til seven, and you can go before then...if you want..." Callum felt distinctly certain that he wouldn't.

Fifteen minutes later, Darius led Callum into a semi-detached house in a fairly nice neighbourhood. There were trellises up the walls with ivy growing up them and the hedges were well trimmed.

Inside, Darius took Callum's coat and hung it by the door before taking him into the kitchen. It was a small room with a low ceiling and poor lighting. The windows led onto the garden where a young girl was bouncing up and down on a large trampoline.

Sitting at a gigantic wooden table was a blonde woman in her forties. She was slim and pretty. She wore no make up, but her hands were manicured with French tips. "Ah, hello Darry. How was school?"

"Good. Got an A on that essay for English," said Darius, reaching into the biscuit jar by the cooker and offering it to Callum. Callum shook his head minutely. His mouth was far too dry to start chewing on biscuits.

"Wonderful. And who's your friend?"

"Callum Henry," said Callum, stepping forward and sticking out his hand awkwardly. He stumbled slightly and had to catch himself on the back of a chair.

The woman smiled warmly. "The famous Callum. I thought you'd be taller."

"I'm working on it," said Callum with a weak smile. Mrs Clarke's easy going manner was not what he was expecting.

"Why don't you boys go out back. Alicia's been out there on her own for a while."

"Actually Mum, me and Callum wanted to play on my Xbox for a bit, if that's okay?"

Darius's Mum narrowed her eyes. "How much homework have you got?"

"Um," said Darius, looking up as if trying to remember. "Just a small translation for French, and I've got to label a diagram for science."

"Homework first."

Darius rolled his eyes and smiled. "Okay, Mum."

Darius led Callum up a narrow staircase, past a huge bookcase heavily laden with intimidating looking books, and into a bedroom painted bright pink. "I didn't choose the colour," explained Darius, indicating the walls. "When I came out, my brother thought it would be funny to paint my room pink while everyone was out. He got grounded for a month. Was kinda funny though."

"Why haven't you changed it?" asked Callum as his eyes sought out the details of the room. Piles of dirty clothes on the floor, bits of shredded paper on an exhausted looking desk under the bay window, and a teddy-bear sitting serenely on Darius's pillow.

Darius shrugged. "Just haven't got round to it." Darius put out his hand, which Callum took. He pushed Callum onto the bed and lay on top of him, chucking the teddy-bear out the way. "I've wanted to do this all the way here.

He pressed his lips to Callum's. Callum inhaled sharply as he did and his hand flew involuntarily to Darius's bottom, which he grasped firmly. It gave under the pressure of his hand, but Callum could feel the defined musculature in those cheeks.

Callum felt Darius's tongue touch his top lip and he opened his mouth slightly. Feeling a little more of Darius's tongue invading his mouth, he opened up further, pushing his own tongue forward to meet its mate. When they touched, Callum felt his crotch beginning to respond, thickening slowly.

He moaned into Darius's mouth and, seemingly taking that as a good sign, Darius started to gyrate his hips, rubbing his own rock hard phallus against Callum's. Callum's uniform had never felt so tight.

As their tongues continued to do battle, Callum's hands started to explore. They moved slowly up, away from Darius's bottom to the hem of his school jumper. Callum lifted the hem and pinched the cotton shirt beneath between two fingers of either hand.

He gave it a tug and it came free of Darius's trousers. Callum slid his hand up the front of the shirt, trailing his hands softly over Darius's stomach and upwards toward his toned pecs. Callum was certain he would be dripping pre-cum by this point, he was straining so hard inside his tight little boxers.

Darius's hand had begun an expedition of it's own, roaming unnoticed down to Callum's trousers. He deftly undid the button before slowly pulling his zip open.

Though they were still kissing, Callum had to smile. With the exception of Jasmine, nobody had ever touched his cock, and he was getting some fairly certain signs that Darius was about to. He was both excited and nervous, and his heart rate was reflecting that.

Darius rubbed at Callum's dick through the fabric of his cotton briefs. When Callum felt the first touch, he paused mid-kiss, shocked by how good it felt. After a moment, he slid his tongue back into Darius's mouth and started to massage his nipples.

Darius was rubbing away, and Callum felt like he was getting closer to the edge. He slid his hands round Darius's body and started to clutch at his back as he felt his impending orgasm taking hold of him.

It was at that exact moment that Darius's bedroom door flew open and an eighteen year old man squirted them both with a powerful water-gun filled with freezing cold water.

"Jesus Christ!" exclaimed Darius, shielding Callum from the young man's view whilst Callum tried frantically to do up his zip. "What's your problem, Graham?!"

"I thought you guys needed to cool off!" said Graham before chucking a water balloon at them and fleeing down the stairs.

Callum, breathing heavily and suddenly feeling very frustrated, could feel his face burning in spite of the cold water.

"Sorry about Graham. He's got the mental age of a toddler."

Callum shook his head to let Darius know it was okay. Callum had now wilted and he felt that the mood had definitely gone. He sighed. "Maybe we can try again later?"

Darius smiled and nodded exuberantly.

Gerry pulled up outside the Victoria Avenue Community Centre and parked next to a rather beaten looking Daewoo Matiz. He still got a thrill parking next to a downtrodden looking car in his flash Mercedes. He wasn't proud that he did; he just did.

He was early. He had cut out of work early to be here, and he was still unsure about whether or not he wanted to be. He sat with his hands firmly fixed on the steering wheel, looking intently at his dashboard, trying to work up the courage to get out of the car.

He nearly jumped out of his clothes when a loud rap on the window broke his reverie.

"You know, if you're trying to start it with the power of your mind, you're in for a long wait." The young man smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth.

Gerry pressed the button to take the electric windows down and sighed. "I'm just feeling a little..."

"Nervous?" asked the young man. When Gerry nodded, he said "Yeah, so was my Dad the first time he came. Everyone's really friendly. Come on, I'll get you some coffee."

Gerry followed the young man into the building. It was old, perhaps Victorian, and had a slightly oppressive feeling about it. It reminded him of his old school.

The young man led Gerry to a small room near the back of the building. Inside they found two women of about fifty years and an elderly man wearing a dog collar.

"I hadn't realised that this was a Christian affair," said Gerry, suddenly unsure of himself.

"Oh, it isn't," said the young man. "Father Patrick just wants to help." He handed Gerry a cup of coffee.

"Oh. Okay," said Gerry, still not feeling very comfortable. "How do these things normally work?"

"Well, those two women there run it. That's Maggie with the brunette hair, and Sylvia with the blonde. When there's a few of us here, they'll start by talking about their own experiences and then they'll probably ask if anyone wants to share. Usually it's the new people like yourself who share, but sometimes they're not ready."

"Yeah, I think I get that."

The young man put out his hand. "I'm Will, by the way."

"Gerry," he said, shaking Will's hand.

"Nice to meet you Gerry. I take it somebody recently came out to you?" Gerry nodded mutely. He suddenly couldn't meet Will's eye. "Son?" said Will. Apparently Will could read minds.

"Yeah. He's sixteen."

Will smiled. "That's when I came out too; four years ago. My Dad FLIPPED. He kicked me out. I had to live with my Aunt for six months before I could even get my Dad to talk to me again. I think what hurt the most was that we had been so close; he was basically my best mate."

Maggie stood up, making Gerry realise that the room had filled up around him. "Okay, ladies and gents. If you'd all like to take a seat, we can get started!" She clapped her hands, beaming at the crowd of people around her. Everyone shuffled around, trying to continue their individual conversations as they went.

Most people seemed to have formed cliques and hurried toward seats they had clearly previously claimed as their own. Gerry looked around, suddenly feeling like the last child picked for football in school.

Will gave him a quick wink. "You can sit with me."

Gerry gratefully followed Will to a pair of seats furthest from the door.

Sylvia rose from her seat and cleared her throat imperiously. "Good afternoon. I'm Sylvia, and I have a lesbian daughter. She told me eight years ago and at first, I admit, I didn't take it very well. I refused to speak to her for the longest time. But now, I can say with pride, that she and her partner are expecting their first child. My first grandchild!"

The room erupted in congratulatory applause which Gerry joined in, though briefly. Sylvia sat down and Maggie stood. "My name is Maggie. I have a gay son. He is the light of my life and I can't imagine a world without him. Still, I called him some horrible names when he told me, thirteen years ago, that he wanted to spend his life with another man. He has forgiven me for that, but I will never forgive myself. I hope to one day be able to give him away on his wedding day." Maggie smiled and sat down and Father Patrick stood.

"Good Afternoon. For those of you who are new, my name is Father Patrick. I am a Priest at St Clare's Church across the road. I see a couple of new faces today, and it gladdens me that I do. If you feel comfortable enough to share, please feel free, but do not feel obligated!" He smiled wide even as he wavered on his ancient legs.

"Now," continued Father Patrick. "Maggie and Sylvia have started us off brilliantly, so I'll keep the ball rolling. I have a gay nephew named Timmy. He is a wonderful young man with a magnificent heart. I love him, and when he finds the right man, I will love him too. I hope, one day, to be able to perform his wedding."

"Would anybody else like to share?" he asked, smiling around the circle of people. He looked at the man directly opposite him; a bald man with arms like ham shanks crossed in front of his chest. He wore an expression of disdain and anger in addition to his unattractive track suit bottoms and straining polo shirt. "Perhaps you, sir?"

"Fuck no." He looked at a boy of about Shane's age sitting beside him. "I can't believe I let you drag me here." He stood up and the wooden floors groaned under his weight. "We're done here, fairy boy." He headed to the door, leaving his son looking distraught and embarrassed.

Gerry acted on impulse, standing and addressing the group, but more specifically, addressing the scumbag about to walk out on his son. "You, sir. The one about to leave. I'd like to share, even if you wouldn't."

The huge man turned on his heel. "You mean me?"

"Yes, you. Listen up." Gerry paused a moment, gathering his thoughts. "I've always been very close with my son, Shane. I'm a very strict father, but that's because I love him. I want the best for him in everything.

"Yesterday, he told me he's gay. I'm not going to lie; I'm angry about it. I can't stand it. For the last twenty four hours, I've been thinking of him as 'my gay son', 'my faggot son', and like you sir, 'my fairy son'.

"Those words have been blinding me to the truth. If I had just stopped for half a second and taken out those adjectives, I'm left with two words that meant so much to me the day he was born. 'My Son.'

"Shane isn't my 'gay' son. He's my son. And this young man here;" Gerry waved his hand on the young man who was still looking very upset.

"Sean," the boy supplied.

"Sean is YOUR son. Do you remember what it felt like to hold him for the first time?"

The great oaf nodded slowly, his triple-chin puffing out like a bull-frog as he did. "I just can't stand the thought of what him and that little queer he's been having it off with get up to at night."

Gerry couldn't help but laugh. "Then why the hell are you thinking about it?" He raised his eyebrows to emphasize his question. "Would you imagine him having sex with a girl?"

"Um. No, I guess not."

"Then why are you imagining him having sex with a boy? This is your problem. Not Sean's."

Gerry had given a thousand speeches like this, always in defence of some villainous wretch. For the first time since he had sat behind the prosecutors table, Gerry felt good about himself. He was doing something good; right.

Sean was looking at his great lump of a father with unguarded emotion in his eyes. The poor boy needed a hug from his father, but Gerry had the sinking feeling that he wasn't going to get it.

The boy's father was hesitating. His eyes flicked to his son's face and then back to the door. Finally, he sighed and walked out of the room.

Gerry saw the poor boy wilt. He ran to the boy's side and wrapped his arms around him. The similarities between Sean and Shane were not lost on Gerry. "He'll come around. I did."

"It hurts!" exclaimed Jamie as he walked with bowed legs up the stairs to his bedroom. "Why don't they tell you it hurts this much?" Jamie had finished his first lesson on the back of a horse and had complained about the pain in his bottom all the way home.

"Because then people like me wouldn't get to laugh at you," said Shane as he followed his Little Love up the stairs. Jamie turned around and glowered at him for a moment. Shane held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry!"

Jamie hurried into his bedroom and gently lowered himself onto the bed. "Ah; that's better. Sweetie, would you make me a brew? Pwease?" Jamie shot Shane his cutest look and Shane rolled his eyes. He could never resist those eyes. He nodded and headed down the stairs.

In the kitchen, he set about making Jamie's drink. While he waited for the kettle to boil, he idly tidied the worktops. He happened to pick up a sheet of paper and was about to throw it in the blue bin when he caught the header. 'Upcoming Alcoholics Anonymous meetings'.

Shane poured some hot water into Jamie's brew while he pondered the implications of the list of meetings. Theoretically, it could belong to Beth. She was a psychologist and might have volunteered to help at the meetings.

The more likely option was that it belonged to Johnny, and if it did, Jamie would undoubtedly be ecstatic. His father, absent in mind for so many years, was finally getting the help he needed. Wonderful news indeed.

Shane finished making the brew and, paper in hand, headed back up the stairs. He handed Jamie the drink and then offered him the paper.

"What's this?"

"Just look at it."

Jamie studied the page for a brief moment. "Shane, I don't drink all that much. I don't have a problem."

Shane chuckled. "No, you numpty. I think it's your Dad's."

"Oh," was all Jamie said. He put the sheet of paper on the floor and made himself comfortable on the bed. "So, do you want to watch Romeo and Juliet with me?"

"Um, sure. Jamie, didn't you hear me? Your Dad is getting clean."

"I heard you." He picked up the television remote and waited for the DVD to queue up. "So do you want to get undressed and watch it under the covers with me?" Jamie raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Shane stared at his boyfriend, staggered. "Jamie-" he started.

"Shane! Please. I don't want to talk about my Dad." There was a slight catch in his voice. "I can't." Hardly any sound came out of his mouth as he spoke and one tear fell from his left eye.

Seeing this, Shane went into 'Protective Boyfriend' mode. He slid in next to Jamie and wrapped his arms around him. "Baby! I'm sorry!" He spent a couple of minutes 'shush'ing Jamie before he finally spoke. "If the offer still stands," he said comfortingly; "I'd like to get under the covers with you."

Jamie sniffed slightly and nodded against Shane's chest. Shane quickly kissed the top of Jamie's head before helping him out of his shirt.

The film started to play. A handsome chap walked across the screen and looked incredulously at another. "Gregor, Oh mein Wort; wir werden night tragen Kohlen!"

For a moment, Shane didn't realise anything was wrong. Then it struck him. "Jamie, you didn't tell me the film was in German!"

Jamie giggled mischievously. "I was only joking. It's only dubbed. I'll put it back on English."

When Romeo started to moan about Rosaline, Jamie's hand started to wander over Shane's chest, tracing the outline of his nipples and stroking his collarbone. Finally, Jamie simply grabbed Shane's flaccid cock and gave it a soft squeeze.

It responded immediately by starting to fill with blood. Shane chuckled. "I thought you wanted to watch this film," he said before groaning as Jamie's tongue found his left nipple.

"I can recite it top to bottom. I even know several scenes in French."

"Show off." Shane's dick was fully hard now and he was thoroughly enjoying what Jamie's hand was doing it.

Jamie giggled. "ô Roméo! Roméo! Pourquoi es-tu Roméo? Renie ton père et abdique ton nom; ou, si tu ne le veux pas, jure de m'aimer, et je ne serai plus une Capulet."

"Why are you doing French at college if you already speak it?"

"Because I need to have the qualification to be able to teach it." Jamie had started to rub his own hard dick against Shane's while he nuzzled at Shane's neck. "Same with German. I'm already pretty good at it, but I still need a little piece of paper that proves it."

While he listened, Shane was slowly arching his back and curling his toes. He eventually had to hold Jamie still. "Slow down or I'm gonna cum."

"We wouldn't want that, would we? Do you want to try the bigger one?" said Jamie, his eyes flicking to his night-stand and back to Shane's face.

Shane smiled as excitement washed through him. "Definitely!"

Jamie rolled off him and reached into the top drawer of his night-stand. His hands emerged a moment later clutching the pink dildo and the tube of KY jelly.

"Alright, beautiful. Assume the position." Shane got comfortable in the middle of the bed and Jamie situated himself between his legs. He slathered a generous helping of KY onto the shaft of the pink dildo. "Ready?"

Shane nodded. In principal, this was exciting. He was building up so that he could take Jamie, and that was going to amazing when it happened. Still, the dildo looked bigger than he remembered.

Jamie touched the tip of the dildo to Shane's hole and gently guided it in. When Shane felt the head breach, he tensed up, forcing it back out.

"Sorry."

"Don't be." Jamie put on some more lube and tried again. This time, Shane concentrated very hard on not resisting and when the head breached again, it stayed put. After a minute, Shane was used to the feel of the invader. It was thicker than the first one and was just a little bit uncomfortable.

Jamie didn't move it until Shane said 'Okay,' and even then, he went very slowly. As more and more of the shaft filled Shane up, he grasped at the bedsheets and shut his eyes tight. "Stop!" he said, feeling strained.

He breathed deep for a few seconds and then nodded exaggeratedly. Jamie pushed on, sliding the dildo the last few inches into Shane's body. And then it happened. The head of the dildo touched Shane's prostate and a jolt of electricity shot through him. His stomach muscles tensed. "Gah!" he almost shouted as he felt his dick bob up from his stomach in response the internal stimulus.

Jamie started to move the dildo back and forth, massaging the prostate as he did, and Shane was gripped by a wave of ecstasy. While he was moving the dildo, Jamie slurped Shane's balls into his mouth and started to massage them with his tongue.

Shane was letting off small whimpers as he felt his orgasm creeping up on him. Finally, it hit. Shane lifted his hips off the bed and called out Jamie's name as the first stream of hot, creamy cum blasted from the tip of his dick and landed on his collarbone. The second and third shots simply landed on his stomach and pooled in his belly-button.

Shane went limp, breathing heavily and still making little whimpering sounds as the intensity of his orgasm continued to wash through him.

Jamie had already pulled the dildo out of Shane and was wrapping it up in an empty carrier bag to wash later. He grabbed a t-shirt from the washing basket next to his bed and cleaned Shane up. He milked Shane's dick into his mouth before he tossed the shirt away and kissed his way up to Shane's lips.

He was just settling his head into Shane's neck when Shane rolled him onto his back. "Like I'm going to leave you so unsatisfied!" And with that, he set about emptying Jamie's balls.

"Now!" exclaimed the man with the ever present smile. "If there are any new members, would you introduce yourself by your first name only!"

Despite the fact that he felt he was about to vomit, Johnny rose and cleared his throat. "Hi. My name's Johnny."

"Hello Johnny," intoned the group in unison. It was oddly disconcerting and did nothing to help Johnny's nerves.

"Thank you, Johnny. We'll invite you to speak in just a moment. It is important to remember that this is a closed meeting. What you say, and what you hear does not go beyond these walls. This is a safe place."

The man waffled for a few minutes before he finally cleared his throat as if he were preparing to deliver a monologue on the West End. "Hi, I'm Paul."

"Hello Paul!" chorused the group; even Johnny joined in.

"I have been sober for nearly three years now. Getting clean was the best decision of my life. When I was drinking, my wife and I had grown distant. My children were embarrassed of me. I almost lost everything.

"And then one day, I couldn't take it any more. I woke up, face down in a pool of my own vomit with my trousers around my ankles. That was it for me. That was my turning point. Today, my marriage is stronger than ever. My children are proud of me again. I'm even expecting a promotion soon."

There was some applause from the group as Paul sat down. Next came an elderly woman. She stood and introduced herself as Clara. She appeared to be around seventy years old, and Johnny couldn't believe that somebody like that could be an alcoholic. She looked like every sweet old lady he had ever seen.

She told how she had taken to the bottle after the death of her husband ten years before. She had lost her life savings first. Then her car. Finally the house she had shared with her husband for thirty years.

She dabbed at her eye with the back of a frail hand. "My son begged me to get help and, in one week, I'll be a year sober."

Again, polite applause. As the next few people spoke, Johnny was startled by how similar each of their stories were to his own. Some tragedy or stress and then an escalating desire to drink to numb whatever pain it was.

Finally, it was Johnny's turn. He stood and said his name again and received the same creepy greeting as before.

"I guess it started with my Mother. She passed away in 2008 and- I don't know. It felt like I'd lost my best friend in the world. I was already worrying about my son and then losing my Mum was just a bit too much for me.

"My wife was working more and more and I guess I got lonely. I don't blame her for her career. In fact I'm proud of how well she's done. She's a remarkable woman.

"Then my job went. I was an Account Manager at Northern Rock. Then Northern Rock went bust. That was when I started drinking every day. Hell, no job to worry about." Johnny chuckled mirthlessly.

"The other day was my son's seventeenth. I gave him a hug but there was no love on his part. I've given up four years with my son to sit in a bar addling my mind." Johnny's head drooped.

"I hope he'll forgive me. I hope Beth will forgive me too. I love them both so much, and I can't stand the thought of what I've done to them." A tear trickled from his eye and he swatted it away with a shaking hand. "I'm going to get better for them. I'll make them proud of me again."

After everybody had shared, they discussed getting back into work. A couple of the members were at that stage where it was time to re-enter that world, but they were unsure how to do it, and how they would handle it.

Eventually, they split into smaller groups and set about devouring scones and biscuits and whatever else had been provided. Johnny was just biting into a slice of carrot cake when the old lady, Clara, tapped him on the shoulder.

"You'd better like that. I made it," she said good-naturedly.

Johnny dusted his hand off on the side of his jacket and offered it to the lady. "Johnny," he said through a mouthful of crumbs.

"Hello Johnny," she said in that same monotone the group used when greeting a speaker. Then she chuckled. "Sorry. It's habit forming. So how's the cake?"

"Lovely," said Johnny. "Just like my Mother's."

"High praise indeed!" said Clara. She stirred a lump of sugar into a cup of boiling tea and grabbed a slice for herself. "So, Johnny. I wanted to ask you something."

"Sure."

"You said before that you were worried about your son. It's okay if you don't want to say, but it usually helps to talk about everything that contributed."

They headed off to a corner of the room where a small bench was stuffed up against the tiled wall. Oddly, it didn't feel like Clara was trying to pry. In many ways, she reminded him of his dear departed mother. She had the same comforting presence.

"He came out to me and my wife that year. I guess I was still trying to wrap my head around that when my Mother died. I didn't have a problem with it as such. It just wasn't something I'd ever considered was an option. In many ways, I think I still haven't come to terms with it. I've been so deep in the bottle that I never processed it."

"Four years is a long time to leave him hanging like that."

"Leave him hanging?"

"Well, if you say you've never come to terms with it, then you've never told your son that it's okay. He's probably in a sort of purgatory; waiting for your decision either way."

Johnny looked down at the remnants of the slice of carrot cake crumbling to pieces in his left hand. "I hadn't thought of it like that."

Gerry walked up to the receptionist and cleared his throat to let her know he was there. "Good afternoon. How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Niall Roberts."

The young girl directed him to a private room at the end of the Intensive Care department. The room itself had a window that allowed family and friends to look in without disturbing the room in any way.

Gerry stood at the window and looked upon the face on the young man who, for all intents and purposes, was his enemy; at least in terms of the case.

He had to admit that he was a good looking lad. Probably about 5'8 with sandy blond hair. His lips had that turn at the sides that gave him a near permanent smile and his eyes were a shocking blue. For the moment, those eyes were fixed in concentration.

As Gerry watched, he became disheartened. Niall was trying, with a great deal of effort, to spoon jelly into his mouth. The way he was gripping his spoon was reminiscent of the way a toddler would; grasping at it with the full body of his hand. Each time he dug in, he would move his hand slowly, precariously, toward his mouth. His hand would begin to shake, wobbling the jelly, and then with an unceremonious splat onto his hospital gown, it would fall off the spoon.

Niall looked at the most recent deposit on his gown and frowned. He spoke to the doctor in the room, though Gerry couldn't hear what was being said, before he returned for another attempt.

A gentle cough behind Gerry startled him. He turned and was faced with a woman in her mid forties with the same sparkling eyes as Niall.

"Can I help you with something?" she asked, seeming wary.

Gerry glanced once more at Niall and sighed. By all accounts, he should not have come. It would raise questions about his legal ethics.

The woman cottoned on, however. "I know you. You're that monster's lawyer." She didn't sound angry. More like she was stating a dull fact.

Gerry nodded slowly, not daring to speak.

"If you had any shred of decency in you, you wouldn't be helping him."

"Mrs Roberts, there is no help for him. I'm a fantastic lawyer, but I can't fight DNA evidence. Walker is going to prison no matter what I do."

Mrs Roberts raised her eyebrows. "Should you be telling me that?"

"I don't think it matters. Tomorrow I'm going to recommend to Mr Walker that he plead guilty in the hopes of a lighter sentence. If he doesn't, the prosecutor will likely demolish my case. And to be honest, I think I would prefer it that way. If I thought for a second I could, I would hand the case off to somebody else."

"Why can't you?"

"Because there's no legitimate reason I can give that would be accepted. Sure, I want Walker to go to prison, but that's true of most of the people I've helped free. I won't compromise my ethics by tanking the case. I'll defend him to the best of my ability, regardless of the fact that I think he is a despicable excuse for a human being."

Mrs Roberts stepped past Gerry to the window overlooking her son. Niall spotted her and waved ecstatically at her. She waved back and he returned to his vain attempts to feed himself.

"He doesn't remember that night, you know? He remembers everything up until then, and everything since, but not what that bastard did to him. Do you think that that's God's doing? Making sure he doesn't have to remember it?"

Gerry didn't speak. He was not religious, but he didn't belittle those who were.

"I do," she continued. After a minute, she turned to Gerry and fixed him with a sad stare. "Niall is a pianist. He was studying at the Royal Northern College of Music. Look at what he's doing now."

Gerry didn't need to look to know what she was getting at. The poor boy couldn't feed himself. Gerry dared not think what would happen if he sat in front of a piano.

"He hasn't complained once. He just keeps saying that God is testing his mettle and he'll come out stronger on the other side. Until he does, he has to learn how to feed himself. To brush his teeth. To..." Her voice caught. "Wipe himself." At tear rolled down her cheek. When she spoke again, her voice was shaking and scarcely more than a whisper. "I don't know what I'll do if that man goes free." She was crying openly now.

Gerry swiftly pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. "I promise you, he won't go free."

"Hang on! Why does Darius's boyfriend get to stay, but I can't have Kelly over?!" moaned Graham. Callum was standing unobtrusively by the stairs with Darius hovering over him.

"Kelly is more than welcome to stay- on the couch, which is exactly where Callum is staying."

"WITH Darius!"

"And whose fault is that?! If you hadn't saturated Darius's bed, he'd be sleeping in it!"

"Fuckin', whatever." Graham stormed off.

"Sorry you had to hear that, Callum. Graham can be a little temperamental."

"Childish, you mean," said Darius.

Mrs Clarke sighed as she led the way to the lounge. "That too. Now boys, I'm trusting you a great deal here. No...you know."

"Mum, we've barely even kissed." Darius helped his mother pull the sheets over the pull-out couch.

"Really?" She sounded genuinely surprised. "Huh."

Darius discreetly rolled his eyes for Callum's benefit and Callum stifled a giggle. Once the bedding was set up, Mrs Clarke invited Callum to change into some of Darius's clothes so that she could wash his school uniform for the morning.

Darius selected a t-shirt which felt more like a dress on Callum; and a pair of light pants that tied off in the front. When he pulled them on, he had to roll them back twice just to be able to walk safely. Darius took his uniform into the kitchen and when he came back, he closed the door securely behind himself.

The pair lay on the pull-out couch and chatted for a while about this and that. Callum kept leaning in to Darius just to be able to smell his wonderful scent. After about an hour, the lounge door opened and Mrs Clarke popped her head around it. "Okay boys, I'm off to bed. Your clothes are in the dryer."

Almost as soon as the door was closed, Callum pressed his lips to Darius's. Darius pulled away laughing softly. "At least wait until she's up the stairs."

Callum blushed. "Sorry." They waited a few minutes, just to be sure and then, without warning, Darius slid his hand into Callum's pants and wrapped his hand around his dick. Callum, who had been hard since he had changed into his makeshift pyjamas, gasped at the feel of Darius's hand.

Darius laughed again. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you liked that." Unable to speak, Callum just nodded. And then Darius's hand started to move, ever so slowly, up and down the shaft of Callum's throbbing erection. Each time his palm rotated over the head, Callum would emit an involuntary whimper.

"Let's get this t-shirt off you." Darius released Callum's cock and pulled the Nirvana t-shirt over his head before removing his own and lying on top of Callum. Something about the weight of Darius was comforting; it felt secure somehow.

Callum slid his hands down Darius's back. When he reached the band of his underwear, he slowly pushed them over the contours of Darius's shapely bottom. All the while, Darius just watched Callum's face. When his underwear was far enough down to reveal his stiff tool, Callum seized it like it were a woodland creature about to dart off to its burrow.

When he pulled back Darius's foreskin to reveal the smooth head, sticky with pre-cum, Darius pressed his lips to Callum's.

They battled tongues for a few minutes before Darius rose to his knees, his dripping phallus waving around in front of him. He took hold of Callum's pants and boxers and, in one swift motion, pulled them both off.

He pulled his own the rest of the way off his legs before lying back down on top of Callum, rubbing their dicks together, slowly at first, and then quicker and quicker as Callum's stifled moans became hurried gasps. The feel of Darius's engorged head and solid shaft rubbing against Callum's brought about a steady crescendo of euphoria the likes of which Callum had never felt before.

The closer Callum came to his first orgasm caused by another person, the more ferociously he battled with Darius's tongue. His hands were everywhere; sliding up and down Darius's sides; playing with his nipples; sliding over the crease of his bottom.

With a final thrust into Darius's pelvis, Callum released a sound somewhere between a grunt and a moan. Seized in a moment of bliss, he released Darius's lips and felt his stomach tense several times as the warm offering from his loins spread over his navel.

Breathing heavily, he returned hungrily to Darius's lips, lacing the fingers of one hand through Darius's hair while his other hand sought out Darius's unsatisfied member.

It only took four slow strokes before Darius grabbed onto one of Callum's bum-cheeks and moaned lustily into his mouth. A second helping of warm, sticky cum flooded Callum's abdomen before Darius's collapsed on top of him with a soft 'splat' sound.

The two very sweaty, shaking and sated teenagers stared into each other's eyes while their hands idly roamed over each other's faces. "That was amazing," said Darius while he gently stroked Callum's face.

"It was, but," said Callum as he reached down and swiped a finger across his stomach. "What do we do with all this?" He giggled as a dollop of sticky cum dribbled down his finger.

"I have an idea," said Darius, slurping Callum's finger into his mouth and sucking it dry.

Callum giggled again. "I like that idea."

I hope you enjoyed this. Any comments, questions, or even suggestions are welcome. Please feel free to email me at thebobbyfish@gmail.com. Your emails are all very welcome, and I will try to answer ever single one of them!

This weeks mailers included Bill T, David, Tony, Paul J, Andrew T, Paul D, Lisa, Sam, Ryan, Andrew K, Kura, Gary G, Reecey, Trix and John. Keep 'em coming!

Keep an eye out for Chapter Twenty Three!