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It's been a long time, I've been ill, train crashes, anti-depressants, and a string of bad luck. I fought through it, I wasn't allowed to quit. Neither are you, if you need help, reach out. There are friends in places you never knew, who will always give you a hand up. Be strong.
On with the Story:
Jimmy, we'll go with that name. It was his middle name growing up, and truer than the one that his father had given him before throwing him out of the house, or his mother who had left because she wasn't strong enough to be a mother.
It was like the dice were loaded from the start, I mean, well what else could he do? He could either fight, or quit.
His legs dangled off of the chalky cliffs of beachy head. There was wind, and waves crashing against rocks below him. The famous lighthouse shining its beacon beware, there was nothing but death awaiting here...
He was literally on the precipise, damnation beneath him, or the pittiless reality of Blairite England behind him. 1997, Diana was dead, hope was pretty much crushed out of the people, and ahead of them lay y2k, gulf war, and financial catastrope. He was broke, literally nothing in his accounts, welfare sanctioned on the New Deal, that meant he was living off of kiting his cheque book, and a rather kindly woman behind the cash of his local shop who was happy to turn a blind eye to a rail thin starving Seventeen year old passing bad qheques in exchange for sausages.
Bleak prospects indeed.
His feet kicked a loose bit of chalk from the cliffside, watching it pelt its way down into the darkness. He needed to think, to clear his head. Was this what he wanted? Would it actually resolve anything? Or would it just hurt... and hurt a lot. Would he go immediately, or was there more suffering down there?
He was afraid of pain, he was despite spending years of hell in school trying to deny it, a total wuss.
He adjusted the uncomfortable tie he was wearing, looking about at the slight drizzle that had just started to fall, caressing his face. Coming from the direction of Brighton, bustling and heaving gay mechha that it was in the late nineties. There was life there, and he had lovers. Mark, or Edward as he had changed his name, the musician. Kevin, the enigmatic and broken social services civil servant. Matt... Matt who adamantly declared that he was straight, but his boyfriend was the gay one.
Jimmy smiled, he liked them, each of them. They were characters in his story so far, but nothing would come of those relationships. Every one of them were broken in their own way, and unable or unwilling to step beyond the kisses, fumbles or frolics that made them his exs.
God, where's the love?
It was dead, like he'd be if he ... splat... that'd hurt, and he hated pain.
"Oi, mate," the brummy voice startled him, as he craned his neck around to see who had spoken.
"Oi," The tiny figure in the massive hoodie, ball cap, and crooked grin, was eyeing him. "You got a fag?"
Jimmy blinked, who the hell was this kid, and where the hell did he come from? From the size of him he couldn't have been more than thriteen. Except he was out, in the rain, on top of the cliffs, on a school night. A raging scally wannabe? Trying to look tough, and what, searching for something?
"What?" Jimmy blinked, looking utterly stupid at that moment.
"Fag, dart, smoke?" The scally asked, gesturing with two fingers as if holding an invisible cigarette.
"Oh, I don't... um, I don't smoke, sorry mate." Jimmy patted himself down as if to show that he wasn't carrying anything with him.
"Shit," the mini-chav remarked, looking disappointed. Then he seemed to cock his head to the side, and in the darkness Jimmy could almost make out a flash of curious eyes. "Why're you up here in this shit weather then?"
"Oh," Jimmy shrugged, "You know, just hanging about. What are you up here for?"
Mini-Chav stuck his hands in his pockets and kind of sauntered over, looking over the cliff as he hawked some snot, and shot a rocket off into the pitch black. "Escaping me Grandparents. They're on my case to find a job, or school.. or summin' else that is the bitch of the week. Mind if I sit?"
He flopped onto the grass and scootched himself next to Jimmy, dangling his feet over the edge. "You know I don't think I said me name, it's Dex." A grubby hand was suddenly thrust at Jimmy.
Obligingly Jimmy shook the small hand, noting the yellow index finger that came from someone who smoked too many rollups. "I'm Jimmy, nice to..."
"Yeah," Dex said, not in a hurry to let Jimmy's hand go. It was as if he'd found warmth and like hell was he going to give that up. "I'm not a little kid," he added almost out of the blue.
"What?" Jimmy balked, not sure of what to make of the statement.
"Yeah, I get it all the time. People think I'm twelve, I'm not, I'm twenty four." He gave Jimmy a defiant, challenging look. "I can prove it if ye like."
"That-that's ok," Jimmy said, bemused and peering into the depths of the hoodies cowl he would have bet good money Dex was lying. He couldn't be older than Jimmy was, surely. Though there was a few characteristics on the skinny mouse like face hidden in there. The cigarette burn scar on the forehead, the whisps of a bad teenage moustache fuzz, the eyes that were searching for something...
"So you gonna suck my cock or what?" Dex asked gleefully.
"What?" Jimmy was again broadsided by Dex's off kilter, out of left field candor.
Dex nodded down to the rail hard spike sticking up from his trackies, "Well, I got a feeling you'd be up from something, and I got something. So?" he guided Jimmy's hand over his trackie covered bulge, and wrapped both their hands around it.
Jimmy blinked again, he was sliding his hand up and down a very hard, very aroused bit of chav meat. Everything was a bit of a blur, one minute he was about to... and the next he had someone's cock in his hand, someone who was staring at him with a shit eating grin, and flashing bright eyes.
"Knew you'd be up fer it," Dex said, beaming a smile. "I'm not gay or nuffin, just... well... horny as fuck and you're here." He leaned back a bit, to allow Jimmy to fish the hard seven incher from the sweatpant prison, out into the air. "That's it."
Jimmy gripped the bare dick in his hands, squeezing it gently as he stared into the eyes of the complete stranger that was loving the ministrations that were pulling and pushing on his meat. "That good?"
"N-not gay, but not gonna lie, that feels great," Dex sighed blissfully. "I don't kiss..." he said before he launched in and locked his lips on Jimmy's, his insistent cigarette tasting tongue was battering away at Jimmy's lips demanding a way inside.
So much for not kissing, Jimmy thought as Dex's tongue blew past the defenses and took up home trying to find the exact position of his new lover's tonsils. Dex's hands already unhooking and unzipping Jimmy's pants. Wriggling inside to grab the sweaty dick which he levered out and began to pull and twist on with abandon. The mini-chav was a boy possessed, he wanted sex and he was going to have it, he broke the kiss only long enough to drop his head to start sucking Jimmy's dick, inhaling it to the root in no time flat.
"Whoa..." Jimmy exclaimed as expert lips wrapped around his member, and the small mouth was working him in a way only reckless abandon, hopeless horniness, and sheer determination to have cock could accomplish.
Jimmy began to pant as the tongue that had moments ago been in is throat, was now lathering his glans in rapt attention. His grip tightened on the other lads penis, feeling it get harder and harder the more Dex gave him head.
Before he could blink, though, Dex came off of his cock, wiped his lips with the back of his hand and was wiggling his trackies down and off one foot, suddenly his butt was naked, and he clung to Jimmies neck as he slung a leg over and positioned himself over in a way that left no doubt what was about to happen.
"Hey... whoa... shouldn't?" Jimmy began... before he found that Dex's thin ass was rubbing a very hungry hole over the spit lubed dick.
"I ain't gay," Dex reminded him, as he skewered himself on Jimmy, his eyeballs rolling back into his head, and a massive sigh of relief emanating from his mouth. "yessssssssssss."
Jimmy flexed his dick a bit and then it was in. Up his fucking All-chavvy arse. He put a hand over his mouth but Jimmy needn't have worried. He was too startled to shout. Suddenly scared too, this little Scally lad, now resting a moment on the cock planted deep inside his guts.
Well he wanted it.
Jimmy pushed his dick all the way in, no holding back now, ramming it in as hard as he could, fuck feeling that young muscle. The steam rose between them, heat in the drizzle on the edge of that cliff, the rain soaking them, Dex's voice a little whimper, Jimmy's lips back over his mouth, letting him ride the dick he wanted so badly.
Jimmy doesn't go super hard right out of the gates, but he made sure his pubes get nice and smashed up against Dex's balls that were beginning to bounce up and down as he raised his tight, wiry body the length of the cock that was inside of him, He makes sure he can feel it, not just inside of him, but on the outside too.
They start to fuck harder. Jimmy feeling the sides of Dex's upper body from his armpits - warm and hairless as fuck - down to his hips. He props his head up, resting his chin on Dex's shoulder, both of them inside that ridiculously over-sized hood. Tasting the nape of the neck, down to the top of the off-white old t-shirt he was wearing. Jimmy fucking hard enough now that they both can hear the slapping of hips against cheeks. Jimmy fucking loved that sound.
Another squirm, a squeal, from who neither really knew. They were about to hit it, fucking hard there on the edge. It was dangerous, it was wet and raw, it was alive.
The climax came, Jimmy bursting upwards and into Dex, both youths experiencing the mind shuddering, jarring of orgasm one after the other. They were spent as they held on to each other. Dex laughing as he twitched, shaking his head.
"Man, I'm not gay, but holy hell!"
"Yeah you're definitely not gay," Jimmy observed with a laugh, as he stole a last kiss. Dex sliding off of him and looking at the soiled shirt he'd left Jimmy with.
"You got a spot," Dex waved all over the shirt, "Sorta there..." He stood shakilly and pulled up his trackies, looking down at Jimmy his eyes bright and ablaze.
"I think I got a spot everywhere," Jimmy agreed. "You..."
Dex waved it off, "don't think about it, well think about it, just you know what I mean." He zipped his hoodie up and stuck his hands in his pockets. "You looked like you needed that, so I kinda needed that too. Take care man."
Jimmy wanted to say something, felt he owed it to say something. Like, had that mini-Chav just saved his life? What the hell... his mind was whirling.
"Oh," Dex turned back to him, "If I see you again we'll do it again."
Jimmy nodded at the promise, the sex had been fast, fun, and he knew he wanted more... "How old are you?" he asked.
"You'll never know," Dex laughed. "Doesn't matter, ages, names, lies, truths. Alll that matters is that was cool, mate. See ya around!"
Jimmy watched him leave, doing himself back up and getting up from the edge of the cliff, he was alive. It was a gift, he knew that. Time to go back home, try to pull the crap that was his life together and get on with it.
As for if they met again, maybe, who cares? Life, death, love, lust... it's what makes us, breaks us and gives us a reason to keep on.
Christopher P. Lydon