A Familiar Tale

A Familiar Tale

By Jamie Anderson

I never met Jamie Anderson but we corresponded for a while. I loved his witty raunchy stories and I sent him a couple of mine which he said nice things about. I was totally surprised when I found out that a friend of mine knew him and his partner Harry. She told me about their cats, about Jamie's ground-breaking work in the early days of computers, about his heart transplant, about Harry's work as a doctor (hah! that explains all the detailed medical stuff in Jamie's stories).

Then about a year or so before his heart finally gave out on him, he sent me this story which as far as I know has never been published. If you like it, then check out the rest of Jamie's stories in the prolific authors' section. They're brilliantly written, horny as hell and funny too.

And don't forget to make a donation to Nifty to keep this site going.

Horniman.

And now on to Jamie's story:

The instant that I woke I knew that something was different; I just didn't feel quite myself. I glanced round the room and saw another bed. It was identical to mine, but it hadn't been there when I went to sleep the night before. To my dismay I discovered that my precog was totally dead on the subject. OK, I know my precognition is not very good, even at the best of times, but this was a bit worrying. However I was now running late, so the matter was dropped while I rushed through washing and getting dressed before dashing downstairs to help with the milking.

Mum and I live on what was once a farm, but it is now only a smallholding. We still have a few of the fields and we keep some cows and chickens. Mum runs a stall in an itinerant market where she sells butter, cheese, eggs and her herbal remedies. Somehow she makes enough for us to live on, not that we have expensive tastes. I didn't get a chance to talk to her until we were sitting at breakfast and I came straight to the point.

"So we are expecting a visitor?" I asked.

"I told you that if you practiced you would improve. I'm really quite impressed with your precognition," she said, cheerfully.

"Actually, it was the arrival of the extra bed that tipped me off," I said, deflating her slightly.

"Ah yes, I'd forgotten about that," she said, in her dizzy voice.

"Any hints? I can assume that it will be a boy as you'd never put a girl in my room."

"Oh no dear, I wouldn't make that mistake," she said, reaching for a second slice of toast.

The short hairs on my neck began to rise as I realised that I was skating on thin ice. I had only recently admitted to myself that I fancied boys and I hadn't got around to discussing it with her yet. However I'd bet real money that she had known it since the day that I was born.

"Well, who is he? Why is he coming? How long will he stay?" I asked, moving on quickly and hoping to find thicker ice to skate on.

"His name is John, the son of a patient of mine and he's become a bit of a handful for his parents," she said, as she spread some butter and marmalade on the toast.

I sighed quietly to myself. Mum has 'customers' and 'patients'. Customers are people who buy her butter, cheese and eggs, while the patients are those who purchase her remedies. In her eyes they are never to be confused. However, I noticed she was being evasive.

"Why my room? And you didn't say how long."

"I think he just needs looking after. He hasn't, well - been brought up very strictly - he needs a firm hand. So, you'll be able to keep an eye on him, and give him em, er, 'advice' from time to time. He's what you'd call a 'rough diamond', but I'm quite sure that there's a nice boy inside, just trying to get out," she replied, ending on a cheery note.

Oh God, she had booked in some young thug and he would be living in my room, but for how long? Usually she wasn't vague as her precognition was first class. So why was she avoiding the question?

"How long?" I asked, for the third time.

She looked rather hazy and muttered something about there being too many variables. This really worried me. She never tells lies; she just avoids answering the question. Although I knew from long experience that it was no use pushing the point so I tried another tack.

"And he arrives?"

"Oh, about lunchtime. In fact there would just be enough time for you to get some teleporting practice done," she said, in that bright voice she uses to manoeuvre me into doing something that I dislike.

I made a face and went back to eating my breakfast. Yes, I can teleport. That is, I can move from one spot to another using only mental effort, but there are two big snags. The first is it leaves me feeling that my guts have been turned inside out, giving me the dry heaves for ages afterwards. The second, and more depressing, is my record distance is slightly over six feet. You see, down here in the real world, there is no school where they teach magic to young wizards and witches. We have to learn it all from experience. The truth of the matter is I find that magic is bloody hard work and usually it isn't worth the effort. I'd walk the six feet any day rather than teleport.

Anyway I spent the morning performing the much more mundane task of making cheese. Now that isn't hard work; it's just repetitive and boring. Then, just before lunch, I heard the snarl of a motorcycle engine and John roared into my life. He was dressed in full motorcycle kit, most of which was form fitting black leather. The sight of him, close up, took my breath away. Starting from his feet, which were encased in motorcycle boots, these gave way - just before his knees - to tight leather trousers, a short leather jacket and crash helmet with the tinted visor completed his ensemble. Standing before him, wearing a dirty T-shirt, old jeans and the whole mess covered by a stained apron, I felt about six inches high. He dismounted, effortlessly pulled the heavy bike up onto its stand and walked over to me. He was a good head taller than me. As he hadn't raised the visor I couldn't see his expression, but I could tell that he was giving me the once over and he was not impressed. I proffered my hand, but it was ignored. He turned his head to survey his surroundings. His disgust was almost tangible.

Mum saved my bacon by silently materialising behind him. God, I hate it when she does it to me. Well, you never know how long she has been there and what she has seen or heard. Of course she compounded the effect magnificently by addressing him directly, "Ah, you must be John. This is my son Will."

John reacted, as everyone does to mum's little trick, by jumping about a foot in the air. Not quite as sure of himself as he had been a second or so before, he raised his visor and then took off his helmet. This revealed a rather handsome face crowned by a mop of straight black hair. His good looks were marred by a slightly contemptuous expression. He was about 19-years-old and had 'trouble' written all over him. Naturally I instantly fell in lust with him. I didn't know what it was that attracted me to him, but I wanted to touch him, hug him, or maybe just lick him all over. However a quick glance at his face told me I might be in for a spell of unrequited lust. I obviously did not figure as high in his estimation as he did in mine. Meanwhile mum was rabbiting on about how much he would enjoy country life. He detached two panniers from the bike and she led our little group in doors.

"Oh, one thing," she said, pausing in the doorway. "We don't smoke in the house."

She didn't bother to look at John's face as she went in, but I did. His lip curled in a typical teenage sneer. That was unfortunate, as mum had just given him his only warning, and I needed no precognitive ability to know that he was going to ignore it. The idea of sharing a room with me did not appear to ring his chimes either. Mum went off to organise lunch while I stayed to show him where to put his things. As soon as she was out of the room he began to pull off his riding gear. I gulped a couple of times as I realised that he was only wearing his Y-fronts under it, and everything else was coming off! Soon I was confronted with a rather magnificent specimen of young manhood wandering around my bedroom bloody near naked. He was a lot hairier that I would have thought and I almost had to sit on my hands to keep them from wandering. Eventually he found a T-shirt and jeans to wear, allowing my breathing to go back to normal, and we went down to lunch. He remained surly and unresponsive throughout the meal. In the afternoon he sat, looking bored to his back teeth, watching me finish off the cheese making.

True, he did assist in turning the cheeses but, to my surprise, he was a complete wimp when it came to gathering the eggs. You might not believe this, but he was afraid to put his hand under a hen, in case she pecked him. So I think I went up slightly in his eyes when we were in the henhouse. He kept totally out of the way during the milking. Mum pulled out all the stops at dinner, roast beef, a bit of a luxury for us, but John didn't seem to be impressed. Afterwards mum went off to work on her herbal remedies while we watched TV. The set is in my bedroom as mother can't be bothered with it. We each lay on our respective beds, a pity really I'd have liked to have shared one bed with him. Everything was going OK until he pulled out a pouch. This he unzipped and produced a packet of cigarette papers, some loose tobacco, a lighter and a small brown lump which I recognised as pot.

"You're not thinking of smoking that, are you?" I asked, with some alarm.

"Going to run and tell mummy?" he jeered.

I sighed quietly. Telling mum was completely unnecessary, she would already know, and if I knew how she worked, she would already have taken steps to deal with it. As she was a healer she couldn't harm him, but she could use his body's own defence mechanisms against him. I watched him lay the lump of pot on his bedside table. The moment he took his attention off it, the lump quietly disappeared. He picked up his lighter and reached for the pot, only to find it gone. He hunted about for a moment then looked at me suspiciously.

"Did you take my pot?" he asked.

"I never moved from this bed," I replied. "However I have a feeling that if you try hard enough, you'll find it.

After a bit of hunting he discovered it on the floor under his bed. He heated the pot with the lighter and skilfully made a joint, this he slipped between his lips. But now the lighter had vanished. Typical of mum she let him suffer for about five minutes, then he found a book of matches in one of his panniers. As he lit the joint I got up and went to the bathroom. I was not in the least surprised to find an empty bucket sitting under the washbasin. I retrieved it and returned to the bedroom. He was on his third puff, and he was waiting for the euphoria to kick in. I put the bucket on the floor beside him. Contemptuously he flicked his ash into it.

My money was on the aversion reaction. This works after you have eaten something that made you ill. After a brief, but intensely passionate, love affair with the toilet bowl you find it very difficult to eat that particular food ever again. John now looked a little pale and the more he puffed the worse he looked. Alas, the macho part of him would not let him quit. As I watched, his puffs became less enthusiastic, the interval between them longer and his pallor now shaded towards green. Finally his guts began to heave and he grabbed the bucket. The rather nauseating sound of him regurgitating his last meal filled the room. After a while he staggered to the bathroom, his head still in the bucket, and fortunately made it, just before his system began emptying itself from the other end as well.

When he at last returned to the room he fell onto his bed, failing to notice all the makings of his joint and his lighter were lying on his bedside table. He seemed to be in no mood for conversation. He was still fully clothed and sound asleep when I undressed and got into bed. A couple of times I heard him get up in the night and return to the bathroom, but I must have slept through him getting undressed. The next morning, when I arose I found his clothes lying in a heap on the floor and him lying stark naked on the bed. He did not look very great, but if you have been up all night like he had, it was understandable. However even in that state I still found him appealing. How much of this came from him being piss proud I'm not sure. He was quite well equipped and his black bush contrasted nicely with his pale skin. I wanted to climb onto the bed with him, to hold him and to heal him. Healing is the one thing that I can do well. But I suspect that mum would not have liked it if I had interfered with her teaching process.

So, I left him as I found him and went down to get on with my chores. Mum was her usual bright self and made no mention of John's nocturnal trips to the bathroom. He descended for breakfast, but didn't eat much. Still, a fry-up on a queasy tummy is not a good idea. I was loading the van for mum's market stall when he emerged. He seemed to think it was strange that she wanted such odd numbers of the various items. I tried to explain to him that she knew exactly how many she would sell and there was no point in loading extra. But he just shook his head and wandered off. Mum arrived and slipped me a small phial of an obnoxious greenish liquid.

"Give him that before lunch. It'll settle the poor boy's stomach. Oh, it may make him a little sleepy," she said, as she slipped behind the wheel.

He was of little help most of the morning. Still, making butter is not very exciting. Eventually I got round to putting lunch together. He turned up in the kitchen, still looking bad. I dug out the phial and handed it to him. He examined it with disgust on his face. Finally he said, "What am I supposed to do with this? Drink it?"

"Yes, but try not to either smell or taste it. Just get it over your throat; it'll do you good."

He must have been really desperate because he closed his eyes, opened the phial and swallowed its contents in a single gulp. I handed him a glass of water which he gratefully swallowed.

"Ohmigawd!" he gasped, grabbing for a chair to support himself.

I helped him into the chair then he slumped forwards onto the table and was soon sound asleep. Somewhere, way at the back of my mind, a little alarm bell began to ring. Mum had said it might make him sleepy, but he had just gone out like a light. He wasn't out for long and when he came round he looked a lot better. The permanent sneer seemed to have faded and he no longer looked at me as if I was something the cat had dragged in. In any event he ate a hearty lunch. He even offered to help with the washing up, a move which startled me. That alarm bell was still ringing away, unheeded in the background. But now I needed to practice. No, not teleporting. I can't do that just after eating, but I had to get some practice in. I went to my room, forgetting that it was now 'our' room, shut the door, sat down on my bed and began to make myself invisible.

Now, if only I had one of those magic cloaks. But they don't exist. For me to become invisible takes an effort and the slightest thing disturbing my concentration ruins it. But this time, after only a few moments and very little effort, I felt myself fade from view. A little while later I heard furtive footsteps, the door very quietly opened and John poked his head in. He looked round, and of course failed to see me. I was fascinated by what followed. He silently entered the room and closed the door behind him. Then he did something that I have never done; he locked the door. Next he got a book out of one of his panniers and began to thumb through it. Slowly a bulge appeared in the front of his jeans. He lay on his bed reading the book and fondling his cock through his jeans.

By now I was becoming a little worried. If I lost control and appeared, in a locked room, it would be bloody difficult to explain. On the other hand, the longer that I stayed, the worse it was getting. I could feel the sweat forming on my brow. I had never stayed invisible this long before. But now he had his cock out of his jeans and he was jacking himself off. This was the first time that I had ever seen another guy's cock erect. Good God, it seemed to be big enough for him to have used both hands, if he had wanted to. He appeared to be in no rush, he was obviously keeping his climax back to coincide with his reading. By now I could smell his hot cock, and that wasn't helping my predicament one little bit. Fortunately he speeded up and with a series of grunts shot his load. Now watching that was strangely stimulating for me, the way his whole body convulsed and his face screwed up as he sprayed his seed everywhere. One gob of it landed on the back of my hand and it was warm, which somehow surprised me. Fortunately it disappeared from his vision as it landed.

He lay on the bed getting his wind back while I sat, within touching distance, watching the last of his load ooze out of his fast wilting cock. After what seemed to me to be an age, he cleaned himself up, put his cock away, hid the book under his mattress, unlocked the door and left. I waited a few moments, to let him get downstairs, then I materialised. I was almost in a state of shock. I would never have believed that I could have stayed invisible through something like that. In a fit of wild perversion I licked his cum off the back of my hand and tasted it. I was neither revolted nor attracted by it. Curious, I went and retrieved the book. Shit! It was a compendium of gay short stories. That rattled me and my hands were shaking as I replaced it. He was gay! Hey, I might be in with a chance. My mind was still racing as I started the afternoon milking. This is a chore that I do on my own on market days. John decided that he could help. I was again surprised but I limited his assistance to feeding the cows.

The cows are chained up in pairs. As each cow gets milked she is given a load of concentrated food pellets. However to feed her you must walk between the pair and dump the feed into one of the two troughs. A simple task, but what many city folk don't know is; cows have a sense of humour. Now to be fair, I did warn John to watch out for the tails. As you exit, two tails swish and can hit you on the face. If you have ever looked closely at the state of the average cow tail, you will agree that you do not want it wrapped round your face. Unfortunately it slipped my mind to tell him about their other trick. Actually very few do it, but it can catch out the unwary. John walked in to feed his third or fourth cow. He was confident as he pushed between the two animals. The feed went into the trough and he turned to leave. Heeding my warning he paused and the tails missed him. Sadly he made the mistake and paused too early. Instead of being between their hips, he had stopped between their large, soft bellies. The cows now leant against each other efficiently trapping him. He was in no danger, but he couldn't move. The cows cheerfully ignored anything that he did while trying to escape. Fortunately I was on hand to whack them playfully across the ass and make them release him. Good God, he actually looked grateful and I think that I went up another notch in his estimation.

He obviously didn't believe me about the number of cheeses, because when mum returned I caught him checking to make sure that the van was empty. Over dinner mother congratulated me on my practice, taking care to avoid any details, but emphasising the fact that I was more capable than I thought and recommending me to try harder in future. Later that night John began badgering me, asking what she had been on about and what was the wonderful thing that I had done. Finally I made up my mind to give him a fright and I decided to explain things. It wasn't as if he could tell anyone. Well, and be believed, that is.

"I made myself invisible and I kept it up for almost twenty minutes," I said, allowing a little pride to slip in to my voice.

His mouth opened and shut a few times, then he said, "You're pulling my pisser, aren't you?"

Oh God I wished that I was.

"No, as it happens, you were there."

"Where?"

"Right there, where you are now. You came in, locked the door, pulled a book out of your kit, lay on the bed..."

He went bright red.

"I don't believe you!"

I quietly faded from his gaze then returned. Hey, for the first time ever, I just faded out and came back without any effort. How the heck did that happen? But I didn't have time to dwell on that point as John was freaking out.

"Oh God! How long did you stay?" he asked, now turning white.

"I couldn't leave, so I sat there until you did," I said, wondering what other colours he had in his repertoire.

"And you saw everything?"

"Including the title of the book," I added, a tad maliciously. "Oh shit!" he said, trying for green.

I tried to look apologetic and said, "Well, I was practicing at the time. Then you just walked in on me and I couldn't stop you."

"Have you told your mother?"

As if mum needed telling. But to save him further embarrassment I shook my head.

With a look of contempt he asked, "So, what do you want to keep quiet?"

That hurt. Did he think I'd blackmail him? So, to defuse the situation I tried for humour and said, "Who am I going to tell? The cows don't give a damn and I doubt if the hens are interested." . "No, I mean your mother," he sort of snarled. . "As I said, I haven't mentioned it. She knows that boys jack off. She's no fool." . "Yeah, but the book..." . "Look, it is perfectly normal for a boy your age to wank. She also knows that some boys don't fancy girls. To her, it is no big deal," I pointed out.

"What would she say if she found out?"

At this point I gave him what is known as an old fashioned look. There was a long pause and I could almost hear the penny as it rolled along and finally dropped.

"She already knows?"

I nodded.

"And she hasn't chucked me out?"

"You're not very observant, are you?"

"What do ya mean?"

"As you entered the house she told you that you were not allowed to smoke in the house. You tried to make and smoke a joint, but things kept disappearing. However you persevered and eventually you got to smoke it, but it made you very ill. Did you notice that all your stuff is exactly where you left it, on your bedside table?"

He looked round and found that I was right.

"So what?"

"Fancy another joint?" I asked, cheerfully.

He did the green bit again and shook his head.

"Wait a minute, are you saying she made me throw up?" he asked, the disbelief obvious in his voice.

"She taught you not to smoke pot. Do you really think that if she objected to you liking other boys she would have to throw you out?"

"You're making all this up," he stated, confidently.

I faded from view again. Hey this was getting really easy, was mum helping. Nah, she never works that way. John was now looking frightened and I didn't want to scare him, so I came back.

"How the fuck do you do that?"

"I'm a wizard. Well, I'm still learning. To tell the truth I'm not very good. But mum is a witch, and you'd better believe that she knows her trade."

"You're kidding!"

"No I'm not."

Now I was getting a bit pissed off, I had just done my best bit of invisibility ever, and he wasn't impressed. I could feel my dander rising. It wasn't that long since I had had dinner, but what the heck, I tried to teleport from sitting on my bed to sitting on his. Oddly enough it worked first time and even stranger I didn't puke. John, however just about jumped out of his skin. That alarm bell in my mind was getting more insistent and soon I'd have to pay attention to it, but not now I was far too busy impressing him.

"What the fuck..." was all he could manage.

"Teleportation. I moved by thought alone."

"Shit! That's fucking fantastic. You can go anywhere in the world, just by thinking."

Now I began to change colour, favouring red.

"My record is six feet."

"Oh, so it's not much use at all," he said.

"Not exactly. It doesn't matter what is in the six-foot space that I jump. It could be a solid wall, a gap with a drop of several hundred feet. Besides, I should improve my range as I get older."

Now, although it was unintentional, I had arrived on his bed right next to him. I could feel the heat of his body next to mine. I liked it and I sort of, wanted more.

"Can I have a read of your book?" I asked.

"Your mother might object," he pointed out.

"If my mum didn't want me to read it, then it wouldn't be there," I said.

He gave me a funny look but got up and dug out the book. He didn't hand it to me directly he thumbed through it until he found the page that he wanted before he gave it to me.

"That's one of the best bits." He sat down again and I noticed that he was still a bit too close. I said nothing and started reading. He was reading over my shoulder, which brought us closer. Whoever the author was, he was really into descriptive text. His explanation of how a blowjob should be done was both vivid and graphic. In no time at all, I had to stop and sort my cock out as it had got all tangled up in my underwear.

"Yeah, it sure makes you want to shoot, doesn't it?" he said.

I tore my eyes from the book and looked at his crotch. He was in the same state as I was. I decided to take my life in my hands. Well, not exactly. I could always teleport and get a six-foot head start. I reached over and put my hand on his bulging crotch. His only reaction was to place his hand on my groin. I found that my hand was shaking. This was the first time that I had ever touched another guy there. Reading was swiftly becoming impossible, I couldn't concentrate on the words. Then he made a move and I felt the zipper of my jeans shift. His fingers reached inside and, after some fumbling, located my manhood. He was holding it in his hand. Clumsily he managed to get it out into the open. I was on cloud nine; this gorgeous hunk was sitting next to me and holding my cock in his very own hand!

By now I realised that I should be doing the same to him. But getting my hand to do anything so complicated seemed to be beyond my powers. He came to my assistance and got it out for me. Now we were sitting side by side, holding each other's cocks and sharing a dirty book. This was serious stuff. I had never even dreamt of doing anything like this before. His cock felt strange, it was as if it had a life all of its own. It seemed to react directly to my caressing it. Taking my cue from the text, I gently retracted his foreskin and then, just as the book had predicted, I could smell the wonderful aroma of a randy male. I could now see the naked head and a beautiful little glistening jewel of precum sitting in the eye. His cock was quite different from mine. Well it was a lot bigger for starters, but of course he was nearly four years older than me. With his the head was actually larger in diameter than the shaft, while mine was the other way round. The words that I had just read in the book were still running round in my head and I continued to follow their direction. Slowly I bent over him and watched the head of his prick get bigger in my sight. I wasn't sure if I could do the next bit, but I was determined to try. I opened my lips slightly and then I kissed the naked head of his cock.

"Oh God," he gasped.

I took that as encouragement and I now ran my wet lips over the head of his manhood. It had a strange texture, sort of soft on the surface with a hard core. The drop of precum didn't taste of anything much but quickly I noticed that licking the head caused more to ooze out. I was quite happy doing that until his hand touched the back of my head and pushed it down. This drove his weapon deeper into my mouth and he gave a sigh of contentment. With my lips and tongue working in unison I now brought my hands into play. One hand was used to fondle his hairy nuts while the other was put to good use stroking the shaft. I was still following the book's instructions to the letter and I must say that it was working perfectly.

"You'd better stop doing that 'cause I'm gonna shoot," he said.

I was enjoying myself and I didn't want to stop just yet. However the warning was repeated, this time he was slightly more strident. Again I ignored it and I observed that he was now trying to pull me off his cock. But he wasn't trying very hard so I was able to carry on. Then the thought occurred to me; he was no longer in control of himself. If I wanted to make him shoot, there was little he could do to stop me. My self-confident and oh so-with-it friend was going to be milked just like one of our cows. Now I was the one who was calling the shots. I subtly increased the speed of things and I could tell from the way his balls were scrunched up against the base of his prick he was close to the edge.

However I was now the one in a quandary. If I kept things up for just a few more strokes I'd have a mouthful of cum. On the other hand, if I pulled off him I wouldn't have to take it in my mouth, but then his load would go everywhere. Would he respect me or despise me if I let him shoot in my mouth? Of course if I didn't do it now I might never have the courage to do it later. While I was weighing the pros and cons of all this, he took matters out of my hands and had an orgasm. Here the book did not quite describe things correctly. The sensation of having a young man blow his load in your mouth is very difficult to express in print. The way the cock seems to swell just before the first blast. The bucking and heaving as the spasm forces his seed down the shaft, and the abruptness of the arrival in your mouth. All that, coupled with your partner's mind being blown somewhere in the background, does stretch the English language to its descriptive limits. Let us just say that it was a mind shattering experience for both of us. So when it came to the next question, should I swallow it or spit it out, I went for the former. I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.

His stopped pumping his seed out and it sort of became a dribble. In the end I found that I was having to suck the last drops out. I was elated. I had done my first ever blowjob, and it had gone perfectly. I think that I was more proud of that than I was of my teleportation. John still had his hand on my weapon and I suddenly realised that he had been jerking me off the entire time. Of course as soon as I did notice I shot my lot all over his hand. We sat motionless for what seemed like an age; then he spoke, "You didn't really swallow it, did you?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Then he did something that really touched me. He licked all my cum off his hand and I could see him swallow. We tidied ourselves up and looked at each other. Slowly reality kicked in and a look of abject fear crossed his face.

"Your mother is really a witch? And I've just..."

"Look. I have no idea what she is up to. But please believe me, if we were doing anything that she seriously disapproved of, she would have stopped us before we got started."

I don't think he really believed me, but he pretended to. Still, he had gone through a lot in a short time. Yesterday I had been the lowest of the low and today he was almost treating me as a fellow human being. It was progress. But, I had a feeling in my water that mum wasn't quite finished with this lad just yet. Nothing much was said, but we shared his bed that night. It was kinda kinky as we were both naked. I liked it, having someone to cuddle all night long. A couple of times, when I was sure he was a sleep, I felt him up. I'm a little devil really.

The next morning I noticed that his bed was quite a bit wider and mine had got narrower in the night. Mum said nothing at breakfast about our little romp. John looked as guilty as hell throughout the meal while I tried to act normal. With the morning chores done I had the rest of the day free and suggested that John and I go to the beach. He agreed and we got together a picnic lunch and packed our swimming things. Everything was going just great until mum made an 'oh so casual' remark.

"Take care on the road dear," she said, as we went out the door.

John didn't bat an eyelid, but I almost shat myself. I was ultra cautious all the way to the beach. The road is fairly narrow and shared by both pedestrians and motor traffic. I made sure we were both well onto the grass verge whenever I heard the sound of a car engine. Naturally we got there safely and John now thought I was a worrywart. However we had a happy day on the beach. Unfortunately it was rather crowded and the nearest we got to sex was a few quick gropes when we were in the sea. However these did hold the promise of better things to come when we got home and were alone. Of course by the time we were going home mum's warning had faded completely from my mind. Being in love does that to a young lad.

Fortunately my own precog kicked in, albeit at the very last moment. The sound of the oncoming motorbike was already loud in our ears when I realised that disaster was just about to strike. I turned and pushed John as hard as I could, causing him almost to fly into the hedge. Now Newton's third law of motion states, 'For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction'. So while John ended up safely in the hedge, even though it was a hawthorn bush, I went in the opposite direction and found myself in the road.

Had I done nothing the motorbike would have hit both of us. It was totally out of control and was actually travelling sideways as it rounded the corner. I now had just a fraction of a second to act. To my dying day I'll remember the look of horror on the rider's face as he bore down on me. Just before we hit I teleported, only a few feet, but clear of the bike. Sadly the bike, rider and a tree a bit behind me all came together in a god-awful crash. The noise was unbelievable, but it was the silence that followed which was really frightening.

I ran towards the wreckage trying to estimate the damage as I went. The tree was just fine, the bike was a write-off and the rider was alive, but only in the technical sense that it would have been illegal to bury him just yet. A strange calmness came over me. In my mind a checklist appeared and I began to work my way down it. He was breathing. Good. His airways were clear. Good. There was a pretty little red fountain dancing from a deep wound on the inside of his upper left thigh. Good and bad. He still had a pulse, but he had opened his femoral artery and he was losing blood like crazy. I stuck my hands in his left groin and with my thumbs put pressure on the artery just where it crosses the bone, successfully shutting off the blood supply and stopping the fountain. Now I could concentrate on healing the artery. By now my whole world was closing down to just me and my patient. I tried my precog on him, but all I could see was grey, a very dark grey, not good at all. Somewhere in the background John was struggling to free himself from the hedge and others were arriving. The last thing that I needed at the moment was anyone interfering. John reached me first and asked if he could help.

"Yes. Keep everyone back. Don't let anyone get between him and me. We haven't much time and I mustn't be interrupted," I growled.

Some part of my mind was amazed that John did what I told him without question. But most of my attention was taken with the perilous state of my patient. Despite my prompt action he had lost a lot of blood and he was already going into shock. In other words, all his blood vessels were dilating and his blood pressure was dropping. If I didn't get some fluid into his circulatory system he wouldn't make it. I had managed to get the artery closed and now I could release the pressure. I started checking blood groups. My patient was group A, bugger it. That meant I was no use as a donor as I'm group B. John turned out to be group A, handy that. As fast as I dared I pinched a unit of blood from John. With luck he should never even miss it. Sadly it wasn't nearly enough as my patient was still losing blood from internal injuries. Working as quickly as I could I closed the internal leaks, but I was not quite fast enough, his BP was still falling. Shit! I was going to have to make John really ill. But by now a small crowd had gathered and, despite John's best efforts, one man was insisting on helping. It appeared that he had some training in first aid and he thought that he knew more than me. I checked his blood group and Lady Luck smiled on me. He was group O, a universal donor! Oh yes he could help, you bet he could help.

John now interrupted to tell me about the guy demanding to take over. I whispered to John to get ready in case he fainted. Then I calmly stole about two units of his blood by teleporting it from him to my patient, but a bit faster than what is normally recommended. The effect was much better than I had hoped. The interfering man fainted into John's arms and my patient's BP at last began to rise. After that it was just clean up work. His femur had a clean break in it but mending bones is really child's play. Now that I was no longer inundated with work I took the time to surreptitiously teleport a bottle of mineral water from the fridge at home and slip it to John telling him to give it to his patient when he came round. I also noticed that John had a crafty swig from the bottle. Not surprising, as they would both be a bit dehydrated as their bodies were trying to make up the blood loss.

So, by the time the ambulance arrived, my patient was just about conscious and only had a gaping wound on his thigh as a souvenir of his stupidity. I checked his memory and made sure that the image of me directly in front of him was intact. I didn't want him to forget what can happen when you go too fast on a motorbike. Then I stepped back and let the paramedics take over.

They asked me what was wrong with the guy who had fainted and naughtily I said that he probably couldn't stand the sight of so much blood. But when I had a chance I thanked him most sincerely for his help. On the way home John asked me why the guy had fainted and this time I told the truth. That was the point that John really changed his opinion of me.

"You STOLE his blood?" he asked, incredulously.

"I had little choice. My patient was dying unless he got something in his veins. Besides, the man was getting in the way. So I killed two birds with the one stone. Not the least bit ethical I'll admit. But 'needs must, when the devil drives' as the saying goes."

"You're totally ruthless."

"True. But without that guy's help my patient would have died. I really was most grateful to him, and you too for that matter."

"Me? Apart from keeping the crowd back, what did I do?"

I looked at him with a slightly guilty smile on my face and gradually he worked it out.

"You stole some from me too?"

"Yup. I'd have used my own, but I'm the wrong group and my blood would have made him very sick indeed."

"God!" exclaimed John, and there was a long silence after that as we made our way home.

When we got there mum wasn't home, instead there was a note telling us she was visiting friends and would be back in time for the milking. I insisted that John drink some more to make up his fluid volume and I was getting him some orange juice out the fridge when he groped me. One thing led to another and soon we were up in our room. My bed was now just about child sized while his had grown into a double bed. This time he noticed the change.

"What's going on with the beds?" he asked.

"Mine isn't being used so it's on its way out and yours is growing so it can take both of us," I replied.

"Your mother's handiwork?"

"No. The house does all that sort of thing on its own," I said, and he just rolled his eyes.

Then he picked me up, threw me onto his bed and said, "Get naked."

So, I teleported my clothes from my body to my old bed. This left me instantly naked, which made his eyes pop if nothing else. He took a bit longer to strip but soon joined me. We cuddled for a while then he whispered in my ear, "I want to fuck you."

This caused a weird and wonderful thrill to run through me. I had imagined being fucked but this was the first time I had a face to put on the person who would be doing the fucking. The thought of being under John's big and powerful body worked like an aphrodisiac, I got really horny. But I played coy and asked, "What brought this on?"

"Oh, I've wanted to fuck you from the first time that I saw you. But then it was different. You looked so weak and helpless. I just wanted to take advantage of you because you wouldn't be able to stop me. Of course now I know better. You scare the living shit outa me, but I still want to fuck you."

Not quite the answer that I had been fishing for, but it would have to do. Then a thought occurred to me and I asked him, "How many guys have you fucked so far?"

He blushed and rather shamefacedly acknowledged his virginity. Since his experience seemed to be about as negligible as mine I could foresee the odd problem looming on the horizon. However he pulled out his little book again and together we read the remainder of the story. Like the first part it contained detailed instructions of how to go about butt fucking a guy. I teleported some suitable lubricant from mother's supply room and using it John began to finger me.

It felt peculiar to have something moving inside me, but it was quite pleasant. Encouraged by this he got a second finger inside me and things went a bit faster. I thought that three fingers would be enough but he insisted on four and that made me feel really full back there. About here we got into a head-to-toe position and that gave me something to play with while he fingered me. I had to promise not to make him cum in my mouth before he would let me start sucking his cock. He was quite determined to fuck me.

Actually he almost made me shoot my load, just by finger fucking me. But eventually he decided that I was ready for his weapon and he let me grease it up for him. Then I was placed on my hands and knees before him. I put my head down and my bum up in an inviting position as he parted my nether cheeks. His cock head felt hot and hard as it pushed its way between my buns. It took him a couple of tries to centre on my ring, then he pushed, but nothing much happened.

"Push a bit harder," I suggested.

"I might hurt you."

"Do it!" I ordered.

Please, if you're ever fucking a guy for the first time, don't EVER do anything as silly as that. He took me at my word and shoved. This got the very large head of his prick and half the shaft inside me in one vicious thrust. When the echoes of my screams had died down he asked, "Was that too hard?"

He pulled back a bit and everything went on hold for about a minute while I decided if I was going to live or not. A quick bit of internal diagnostics told me that there was no real damage and I soothed my own pain quickly. I desperately wanted him to pull the damned thing out of me, but like him with the joint, my macho self-image wouldn't let me give up. Then he twitched his cock. Feeling it flex inside me was really exciting so I overcame my fear and allowed him to try pushing gently. This time it worked and he slid slowly into me causing no further pain. The problem was the oversized head; once it was in me the rest was easy. As he pushed I could feel the head of it moving up inside me, opening me up. The shaft was far longer than his fingers and now he was well into virgin territory. As the head rode over my prostate I suddenly knew why boys like to be fucked. Tentatively I put my hand on my stomach and I could just feel him moving inside me. After what seemed like a lifetime his bush began to tickle my buns. At last, I thought, it is all in. But he just pulled my buns further apart and slid a little more into me.

God was I full back there. I felt like I was liable to explode at any second. He stopped again and this time I twitched my bum causing his cock to buck within my depths. It felt strange, but kinda nice, so I did it again, and again. Then he started to fuck me. The book had advised that he take a firm grip on me and he got a good hold on my hips before he pulled back, almost all the way. I was actually dreading the head of it being pulled through my ring, but he stopped just in time. He pushed it right back in to the hilt and drove the breath from my body.

I now realised that I had given over to him the lower half of my body to do with as he pleased. And running his manhood in and out of me appeared to give him great pleasure. He kept whispering in my ear how lovely and tight I was. Considering the size of the weapon he was using on me I doubted if this condition would last very long. From my perspective he was very large indeed. What he had shoved into me was much bigger than anything else that had been in there before.

The large head of his cock was now being repeatedly run over my prostate and this was administering a none too gentle massage to that organ. This unusual, but very erotic, sensation was now having an effect on me. To put it mildly it was driving me out of my skull. If something didn't happen soon I was liable to die from sheer pleasure. Suddenly he began to go faster and his grip on me tightened. It was clearly obvious that he was about to have his orgasm. Then a line from the book appeared in my mind; 'A simultaneous orgasm enhances the pleasure of both participants'. With this in mind I reached for my cock and began to jack myself off in time to his thrusts. I think that I was about one stroke ahead of him when I shot. Then I could feel his manhood erupt in my guts, spraying his seed inside my belly.

At that precise point a spell ended and things changed. For what at first seemed to be only a moment we were one single entity. But somehow the moment didn't quite end, it sort of, hung on. It persisted even as our bodies parted and we sank onto the bed. Slowly we separated and sat up. But, we didn't really separate, we only 'physically' separated; somewhere, on a euphoric cloud, we were still connected. It was wonderful, glorious, brilliant, I ran out of superlatives.

Wait a bloody minute! A SPELL ENDED? What the fuck was going on here?

Spells are funny that way, you don't really notice them when they are working, but when they stop, it is quite apparent that you've been under one. Now that damned alarm bell had become unbearable and without the spell to distract me I had to pay attention to it. It had begun ringing when he passed out right after he drank the herbal remedy. I'm not too great on remedies, but passing out abruptly, no, that was not a normal side effect. Hypnotics, ones that make you sleep, will do it, but not that fast. They usually take about twenty minutes to kick in. But wait; there was something that did have this exact effect... Suddenly I remembered, a philtre, that mother of mine had given him a philtre. No, even worse than that, she had made ME give him a philtre and she had cast a spell on me! I was suddenly blazing mad and I wanted to talk to mother right now.

My wish was granted instantly and I was no longer sitting on his bed; instead I was sitting in the passenger's seat of the van right beside mum. I realised that I had teleported, but I was in too much of a rage to get excited about it.

"My, my. Now that was really remarkable. At least thirty miles, into a moving target and you were spot on," mum said, sounding impressed.

"It was a philtre. You made me give him a bloody love potion! So when he woke up the first person he laid his eyes on he fell hopelessly in love with," I screamed, totally ignoring her.

Unfazed she smiled. "Actually there is no such thing as a love potion. It just isn't possible to make two people fall in love. But I did cast a little spell on you. It wasn't much, it just made you a bit more naïve than usual, and a little too trusting."

"He changed after he woke up. All the surliness was gone and he didn't despise me anymore," I growled.

"Some people should be friends, but because of circumstances they can't. One, or both of them have some, well, let's call them inhibitions, which stop them becoming friends. Now there are potions that can erase such inhibitions and if one of these potions were to be given to a person..."

"By the other party." I said, finishing her sentence for her.

"Why, then they could become very good friends indeed," she concluded, stopping at some traffic lights.

I was dimly aware that some folks outside the van were watching us argue as we waited at the lights but I was too steamed up to pay them much attention.

"And the book. I'll bet you gave him the book too!" I shouted.

As we pulled away from the lights she turned her attention from the road and favoured me with a look. It was that look she uses when I miss seeing something that is totally obvious, even to an idiot. Then the awful truth dawned on me, and it was far worse that I could ever have imagined.

"No!" I said. "You didn't just give him the book, you wrote the bloody thing too."

"It is a parent's job to educate their children," she said, sweetly.

Now that took the wind right out of my sails, but I still had enough momentum for one last gripe, "And you blocked my precog. It's never been that dead before."

"Ah, now there I'm totally innocent. If your knowledge of the future would influence your actions and thus alter the future, you are automatically blocked. You should know that by now."

She was right of course, and now I was totally deflated, but I still didn't know her reasons, "But why him? Why John?"

"How did you get here just now? Did you teleport? No you couldn't have as you can't move more than six feet and your bedroom to here is a lot further than that."

I could feel my lower jaw dropping, but there was bugger all that I could do to stop it.

"So a massive teleport, and you are not even looking the least bit green. Then there was the staying invisible for twenty minutes, a new record for you. And a healing session that would have taxed even my abilities. Pray tell me, exactly when did all these new found abilities first appear?"

"Right after John arrived," I muttered.

"Precisely."

"He's a wizard?"

'No, don't be silly. Remember your basic chemistry? What was the definition of a catalyst?

"A substance that accelerates a chemical reaction without itself being affected," I said, quoting from memory.

"Yes, and the magical equivalent of a catalyst is a familiar. People used to think that familiars were demons disguised as animals, but they're not, they're just animals. The familiar in itself is not a magical being, but it can enhance the abilities of any magical person it bonds with."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Great Aunt Aggie had one, a cat, and it lived with her until she died at the age of ninety-two," I said. It was an old story that I had heard at least a thousand times before.

"And she was the most powerful witch our family has ever had. But most of that power came from her familiar. As you said, in her case it was a cat, it can be a bird, or a toad, but on very rare occasions it can be a human. Then the term is a facilitator, rather than a familiar. In your case, it is John. Without him you'll just be a wizard, but with him..."

"A star wizard?" I asked, sarcastically.

"No, with the improvements so far, I'd say a five star wizard. You have just bonded with him, so like Aunt Aggie and her cat, it should last a long time."

I sat there, totally stunned as we drove along. I had been barely making the passing grade as a wizard and now she had me down as an all time great. I was too shocked even to be angry. But she was quite right I had bonded with John. He wasn't close by and I was uncomfortable. I needed to be with him.

"So you see, when John came along and I realised his potential, I couldn't risk some silly little feelings of his, or yours, getting in the way. As he told you, you're ruthless, you inherited it from me," she said, glancing in the rear view mirror.

"What..." I began, but then she cut me off.

"I think it is time you went back home, he'll be missing you just as much as you are missing him. Besides the policeman in the car behind us is signalling me to stop and you'd better not be in that seat when he does."

"Why not? I'm your son."

"Yes dear, but you haven't a stitch of clothing on, and he might not understand."

With a squawk of dismay I went directly back to John.

"Where the Hell did you disappear to? One second you were sitting next to me. Then you went pure white, screamed something about that 'damned mother of yours with a filter or something', you vanished for ages and reappeared muttering something about policemen. You worry me, you do," he said, with some feeling.

I took a deep breath and calmed down, then I slowly and carefully explained everything to him. He looked as if he was going to have a fit when I told him the bit about the book. But he seemed to cheer up when he realised that mum actually approved of him.

"So," I concluded, "We've bonded. We're an item."

"For how long?" he asked.

"The rest of our lives," I replied, with a smile.

Then I slipped my arm round him and said, "It'll take mum ages to get away from that policeman and drive home. I think we've just about got enough time for an encore before the cows need milking, if you're up to it."

And fortunately, he was.

THE END