GETTING THERE
Chapter One
When did I become queer? Fuck knows, but it certainly wasn't when that fat old bastard who was shagging my mum was looking for something with a bit of grip and started coming into my room at night. I hated it, I hated him and I hated my mum 'cos she knew what was going on. I put up with it til I was sixteen, then one night I put a knife under my pillow.
He came in about 1.30 in the morning and when he bent over my bed I stuck the bastard in the gut. He started screaming like a whippet in heat and the slag came running in to see what had happened: he was so fucking fat I had hardly reached flesh but she started hitting me and calling me a murderer til I held the knife out at her too. She ran downstairs and phoned the police and an ambulance and by the time they arrived she had her story worked out. The ambulance men came first and tried to deal with "the victim" but the old shit-bag wouldn't lie still to let them help. They kept telling him it was a flesh wound but he was convinced he was dying. They had to stick a needle in his arm to calm him down: they should have used arsenic.
When the cops arrived, slag-features started screaming that I had tried to kill her fiance, that made me laugh out loud for a start. She had never been near a wedding ring, never mind an engagement ring in her life. She told the police that I had been 'Misbehaving' and James had gone into my room 'to calm me down' and I had pulled a knife and tried to murder him, that she had stopped me from finishing him off. The policeman told me to drop the knife, but I held on to it and said, "If you want to know why I stabbed him, take a look at my arse". I pulled my underpants down over my arse and sort of half-turned so they could see the bruising. "Are you accusing this man of interfering with you?" the sergeant asked. "I'm accusing him of fucking me for the past 16 months", I said. The whore started to shout that he had never laid a hand on me, that she would never allow such a thing to happen, lying cow, so I said that she held me down the first time while he raped me, then made me lick her fanny. Fuck her, if she could lie, I could do better.
We were all taken to the station, gutbucket stopping off at the hospital to get told that there was nothing wrong with him that a dressing wouldn't fix, that stitches were not required. I should have sliced his balls off. I was taken to see a police surgeon and played the innocent, trying to tell him what happened but too shy to use bad words to describe it. He confirmed that my sphincter had been subjected to abuse over a period of time. If my mum had been a half decent ride, fatty might have admitted guilt and said she had never touched me, but he denied everything, saying it must have been her. She immediately said that he had been abusing me but she was too frightened to do anything about it. I could believe that, she was frightened she wouldn't know where her next drink or shag was coming from. The result was they both proved themselves such liars that they were charged. Found guilty and sent to prison, her for 2 years, him for 6.
So, I was rid of them and I never lost a minute's sleep. OK, I lied about her, but she was willing to lie and see me get done for attempted murder.
Blood thicker than water? Fuck off.
The downside was, because I had used the knife I was sent to a special care home. I was told that I would be put there for a short time until a suitable foster home could be found, well I wasn't holding my breath for that, not with my record of running away, stealing, vandalism. I soon realised that there was a pecking order in the home, and at the top was a lot better than at the bottom. I couldn't do anything about not being the biggest, but I could make sure I was the toughest, so pretty soon I had things going the way I wanted.
First, I kept my head down a lot and watched, I wanted to see who was in charge; I soon realised that the mean bastard running things was a guy called Ricky who terrorised every kid in the place with the help of a big brain-dead thug called Barney. Ricky made the rules and Barney enforced them while Ricky sat back. One night, when we were being herded through the shower room for our nightly wash I saw Barney standing facing the wall lathering his big flabby body. I was still undressing so I pulled one sock off, slipped a big lump of the hard carbolic soap they gave us into it and swung it above my head bringing it down on the back of Barney's head. The stupid bastard didn't know what happened, he went down like a bag of lead shot. It had happened so quickly, the few other boys in there didn't see a thing. I shouted out for a master, telling him that Barney had slipped on the tiles and banged his head. Barney was put in the infirmary wing for a few days while the nurse watched for signs of concussion, I'm not sure how they hoped to tell the difference.
This left Ricky unprotected and open to attack, so next day I saw him heading in my direction to go upstairs. I raced most of the way up then turned and casually walked downwards, meeting him on the landing.
"Excuse me", I said, "I'm new hear and I'm told that if I want cigarettes or anything I have to get them from you"
"That's right", he said", and if I find you going anywhere else for them I'll make sure you get the beating of your rotten life"
"What like this?" I said as I jabbed my open hand forward and banging his head against the wall and at the same time bringing my knee up into his crutch. He buckled in front of me but I pulled him upright and, grabbing his balls with one hand, I stuck three of my fingers in his mouth and pulled down.
"Listen, Cunt-face, and listen good, I'm in charge of this place from now on, understand?" He mumbled some threat and I pulled harder on his jaw. "Any trouble from you and I'll fuckin' rip the bottom of your face off, you hear me?" I pulled my hand out of his mouth and smacked him a few times on the face, just to mark him enough for people to know he had lost a fight. When Barney came out of the infirmary I pulled him to one side "Take a look at Ricky's face", I said, "From now on you work for me"
"OK", he said.
Shortly after I got there, we had a new guy start on the staff and one night, just before lights-out, he called me to his room. He started to give me the usual shit, asking was I happy, did I have problems. As he talked he put his hand on my knee, so I said, "Yes, I have a problem with filthy perverts trying to get into my pants". He pulled away and tried to back-pedal a bit, saying he was only thinking of my welfare, so I told him to do that during the day, not at night. At that he got a bit stroppy and threatened me with a report or something, so I told him to read my case history.
"You'll see that I knifed a guy for doing what your thinking. I could murder you and claim I was so traumatised that your advances brought it all back, and I'd get off with it." He really backed off then saying I should return to my dormitory and we would say no more about it. By this time I had other ideas. "You want my arse? Well here's the deal. I want cigarettes and I want late nights outside". He refused and I went to bed, but the next night he sent for me again and I knew I had cracked it. We struck a deal where every time he shagged me I would get three packets of cigarettes and be allowed to go 'for a walk'. He pulled out a full packet of cigarettes and said, "Well, no time like the present". He opened his trousers and I just turned my back, dropped my gear and leaned over the desk. He came up behind me and started to rub his cock against my arse "Get some grease or fuck off", I said. He got some Vaseline from the cabinet and greased me up, pushing a finger in while he did it. I just bit my lip and let him carry on. He stuck the end of his cock in and although it had been nearly a year since I had been fucked, I found it easier that I had thought. Soon he was in to the hilt and ramming me. He leaned over me and started to moan and tried to kiss me, but I wasn't having any of that poofy stuff so he just carried on fucking. By this time I was starting to enjoy it, he had a better way of doing it than the fat bastard, which wasn't surprising considering the f.b. was practising on my mum. Anyway, I started to pull on my dick while he pummelled me and soon I was ready to shoot my load. As I did, he got more excited and started to fire his load into me. When he finished, I just pulled myself off him, lifted the cigarettes and left the room. Back in the dormitory, I felt really funny, I was high 'cos I had a good seam for cigs and some free time, but I hadn't expected to feel good about it.
The situation went on for a few months. He worked every third week nightshift, but would volunteer to do more when the chance came up. He would call me into the room, we would do the business then I would get my cigarettes and go out for a few hours. This was the great part. I was doing a bit of burglary and I knew that as long as I wasn't caught red-handed, I had the best alibi in the world, I was locked up in the home at the time the robberies were committed. After a while, he said that if I was keen, he could get me more cigarettes if I wanted, as he knew a few mates who would give me the same deal as I had with him. I agreed, figuring I could sell them to the other kids and pretty soon he had 4 or 5 guys coming round every week he was on duty, sometimes two in the one night. I still didn't complain, I thought I was doing well out of the deal. Then one night after I had been well fucked by an old guy who could hardy hold himself back, he was walking out of the office when I heard him say to the warden, "Thanks Tom, that was great, well worth the 25 pounds. The fucker was selling my arse for 25 pounds a ride and passing me off with a couple of 2 pound packets of cigarettes. I pretended I didn't hear, but instead of going straight out I went back to my locker and took as much of my stuff as I could put in a bag. I moved my bed away from the wall and pulled the skirting off the wall and took the 470 pounds I had hidden there, money I had made from my housebreaking evenings. I slipped into the office while the warden was in the tearoom with his mate and found his jacket. I checked his address from his wallet then took his keys. I left the home and went straight round to his flat and screwed it. I was luckier than I had hoped; I found a box in the wardrobe with over 800 pounds in it so I took the lot, after all, I really had worked my arse off for it. I headed into town, found a safe place to hide for the night then headed for the train station to catch a train for London, stopping only to call the home to tell them that I was running away, I was going to a relative in Inverness because I couldn't take any more sexual harassment from Mr Bennet, the nightshift warden.
Chapter Two
So, there I was in London at the age of sixteen with nearly 1300.00 pounds in my pocket. I was street-wise enough to know that I shouldn't be carrying that about with me so I found a post office, opened an account and put 1,000.00 pounds in it, holding the rest for emergencies.
I found a plastic bag and wrapped most of the money and the bank book in it and pinned it inside my jeans, low enough down so that even in I was frisked it would be unlikely to be found. I then started looking for somewhere to live, looking at cards in shop windows and things. I finally found a grotty little room in Barons Court where I could call home, I was experienced enough to know that I would survive better with a roof over my head than sleeping rough.
I was as aggressive as ever and especially if I had bought some cider or strong lager, I would go looking for a fight. I just had to stand somewhere and eventually someone would look at me: that was enough. "What the fuck are you looking at, you fat bastard" was my usual opening line. Most of the time they would look away then move, but now and again someone would argue back and a fight would start. I didn't give a fuck whether I won or not, and frequently I didn't, taking a good few beatings, but as long as I managed to get a few good punches, or even a boot in I felt better.
Mean time my money was dwindling, I had to start earning. I had seen cards when I was looking for somewhere to stay that advertised 'Young men' for various services, all coded but pretty obvious. I stuck a card in a shop in Kings Cross saying: -
Fit Schoolboy
Looking for Extra Pocket Money
Anything considered.
Call_______________ between 6 and 8 pm.
and stuck the phone number of my bed-sit on it. All it meant was I had to be home for two hours a day, and if it didn't work I could try something else.
That night the phone went non-stop; I arranged to meet 2 guys, one at 9.30, the other at 11.00. I washed myself down, tried to look my age or younger, put a knife inside my sock and set of for my first 'Appointment'. He was OK, some old guy who wanted to suck me off, I didn't need to touch him and he gave me 20.00 pounds. The second was a bit more demanding, he wanted 'The Works' as he called it and expected to get it for 10 pounds. I told him to go fuck himself so he started to negotiate. Finally I agreed to let him fuck me for 30.00 pounds. He was quick if nothing else then tried to rip me off for the money. He started to threaten me with the police, social services etc, but my threat with the knife worked out the stronger argument. He took out his wallet to pay me and I took another 20.00 pounds for the hassle.
Over the next few months I was doing 2-3 men a night, sometimes more if they could arrange a day time appointment, and I was putting most of the money into my bank account. It wasn't always plain sailing, quite a few tried to do more than agreed and a couple tried to recruit me, telling me that they could get me lots of customers for me, would even set me up in a flat if I would work for them, but I had enough of that in the home and I wasn't going back to putting out so someone else could make a profit. Besides I had got to know a couple of rent boys and their stories were enough to convince me I was better on my own.
I didn't work the streets, I avoided using the same areas with my adverts for too long and I was building up a few regulars who had fallen in love with me, (I always told them they were 'special' too) and they were a bit more generous than the others, buying small gifts, taking me for a meal and so on. One of them, he said his name was Geoff, loved me to fuck him hard and beat him up afterwards. I really enjoyed that and I got 50 pounds off him each time.
Over the period I had gone sort of 'Punk' but I soon realised that it was putting punters off so slowly I sort of changed to a skinhead and I found that not only did punters find that a turn-on, I really liked it too. For the first time ever I started to care about my appearance, polishing my boots, ironing my clothes, getting my hair cut every week. I had started putting on a bit of weight, living on chips, burgers and cider as I did, so I started working out a bit in the afternoons. I lay on the bed and did lifting exercises with various bits of furniture to strengthen my arms and did sit-ups and press-ups to get the weight off: I started swimming twice a week too.
One night I went home about 1.30 and found my landlord waiting for me. "I know what you are up to, young man, using my house as a brothel and I won't stand for it". I told him I had never had anyone in my room since I moved in and he couldn't prove a thing; he started on about all the phone calls, some guys were calling outside the time I quoted and other tenants were complaining. He said he wanted me out unless we could come to 'an agreement' he wanted to double my rent 'for the use of the phone' and he wanted to sample the goods I was selling. He was Greek or something, a big guy and not too bad looking, so I sucked him off but he wanted more, he also wanted a free fuck for himself and a few mates any time they wanted it. I told him my speciality was to tie a guy to his bed then sit on his cock and give him the best fuck in his life. He wanted some of that so I tied him to my bed, stuck his socks in his mouth then took his keys, went downstairs and cleaned out his stash. It took me a while to find it, but I knew he would have something the income tax people didn't know about hidden somewhere and I finally found a box with over 2000.00 pounds in a tin box screwed to the underside of a covered stool. I went upstairs and packed my stuff watching him go redder and redder in the face, I though the cunt might have a heart attack or something. He was mumbling trying to tell me that he would get me or something, I went over, grabbed his balls and squeezed and said "Listen, you fat bastard, you will need a good detective to find me, because this little lot will take me back home away from slime like you, and you don't even know where I'm from. And if you go to the cops, I'll confess to exactly how much money I took then you can explain the income tax what it was doing hidden in your flat".
Outside I had to make quick plans, I had told him I was heading north, but whether he would fall for that or not was doubtful. Where I lived made little difference because I always met my customers elsewhere and did the business in their house, their car or in a hotel, but I figured that I should move out of the area just in case. I looked the papers and found a decent place in Leyton in East London and moved my stuff in there. The next day I went back into Central London and removed my advert from the shop I had been using for a few weeks. I found a shop in Soho and put a card in there, wording it differently so that anyone looking for me would not connect the two adverts. This time I was: -
Young Working-Class Lad
New to London
Seeks Good Paying Work
Not afraid of Strenuous Activity
Unfortunately I had lost contact with my regulars, they loved me madly, but they didn't give me their phone numbers. Oh, well, back to scratch, the money I had 'borrowed' from the Greek would tide me over. Pretty soon I was working as much as usual, none the worse for the break in my career.
I started to socialise in the East End, finding good pubs in Leyton, Walthamstow, Hackney and places, and I was meeting more skinheads and getting to know them a bit. By this time I was 17, and I could pass myself for 18. In fact I was aware that I was nearing my sell-by date, that if I were lucky I would have another year working before I would be too old. One night I was in a pub in Walthamstow drinking with some skins, discussing the problems of the world, like the price of beer, the difficulty in getting a good paying job, the unavailability of pussy; the strange thing was, I never thought about finding a girl, I had been having sex with men for over a year, but If asked I would have said I was straight. As far as the guys knew, my name was 'Spike' (a nickname an uncle gave me when I was little) I worked in Central London, usually late shift, and I was a bit of a loner. At about 11.30 a lot of people had left and I was talking to a skin called Nick who had bought me a pint. We talked for a time then he started to ask me questions: simple things, making conversation, about my job and so on. He asked my age and I said, "Eighteen" and he laughed and said "Yea, in a pub, maybe." At chucking out time we left and were walking down Blackhorse Road when he said "I live just round the corner, if you fancy more beer or a coffee or something".
"OK", I said, the last thing I needed to worry about was getting up in the morning. We went up to his flat, a real flat, self-contained with his own toilet and bathroom, not like my place, and settled in the sitting room. He pulled a couple of beers from the fridge, put a record on of some old Ska stuff from the sixties and we sat chatting. Nick was about 30, I thought (Turned out to be 32) and about the same height and build as myself, 5'11", 12 stones). Where my hair was a dirty blonde, Nick's was jet black. Out of the blue he asked me "What age are you, really" "Eighteen" I said "You're a fucking liar, but that's OK, you're too young for me anyway" I didn't really understand what that meant so I asked him what he meant and he said he preferred guys in their early to mid twenties. It still took me a second or two to realise what he meant.
Finally I said, "You mean for sex? Sorry mate, you backed a deuce there, I'm not interested" He looked a little surprised then said "Come on, you never dabbled? Not even when you were drunk?" I was looking at him thinking "This guy wants sex, he doesn't want to pay me, or charge me money just do it for enjoyment". It was something I hadn't thought about: only poofs did that. Strangely, I was a bit turned on by the thought. I had to admit, I only did it for money, but I liked it, I liked the feeling of a dick in my arse and I liked burying my dick inside another guy, but I just considered that a perk of the job. I looked at him and said "Yes, I did it a few times when I was really hard up, when I first came to London and was hungry, but I only did it for the money"
"I see"' said Nick, "And did you ever fuck a guy?" "Yes, if the price was right", I said." How" he asked. "What do you mean, how?" "Well if you were only doing it for the money, how did you get a hard on to fuck him?"
I got flustered and mumbled about pretending it was a pussy, but he just grinned. So you don't like a cock in your mouth or arse, he said. "No, I never enjoyed it." "Well, I can take my jeans off then, knowing I won't be turning you on in any way", he said. He stood up and dropped his braces and pulled his jeans off and a fucking big 8 ½" dick flopped at right angles to his body. I actually licked my lips. He walked towards me and swung it right and left in front of my face until I finally grabbed it and clamped my lips round it. He let me suck it for a few minutes, then he pulled out, stood me up and undressed me. He kissed me then, something I had never allowed any man to do and said, "Let's go to bed".
In the bedroom, we jumped onto the bed and started eating each other, ears, noses, necks, nipples and finally cocks. We sucked on each other for ages and then Nick started to finger my arse. When he felt how open it was he pulled his head back looked at me and said, "When, exactly, were you last hungry enough?" "Last night" I said, before getting back to eating his meat. He laughed and said, "Fuck, a rent number, just my luck". He lifted my legs up and leaned forward to kiss me again as his dick rubbed against my arse. "I may be rent", I said, "But I prefer lubrication". He went into the bedside cabinet and pulled out some KY and started to rub it on my arse working it inside. He leaned into me again and I felt his dick-head start to press against me. He pulled back, looked at me and said," "For the last time, what age are you". "Seventeen" I said.
"Oh FUCK" said Nick, "Oh well, it's too late now" and he shoved his dick into my waiting arsehole.
Chapter Three
Nick and I had a great night, fucking, sucking and, a first for me, sleeping together. He had to get up for work in the morning but said I could sleep on and pull the door behind me when I left. My first thought was, I could screw his flat after he left, but I dismissed the idea immediately, I even felt a bit ashamed of myself for thinking it, another first for me, so I got up when he did and we had a coffee together. He asked me if I wanted to meet for a pint again in a few days but I was a working guy, I didn't know when I would have a booking, so I put him off.
Four nights later I was free so I went down the pub for a pint and Nick was there with some mates, some of whom were real rough cases. I went over and offered to buy a pint, but they had just got a round in so I bought myself a cider and joined the company.
"This is Spike, the guy I was telling you about", said Nick. That shook me a bit, what had he told them. I looked at Nick but I got no hint from him so I had to play it by ear. From the jokes and remarks, I guessed that he had told them about our night together, but nothing else. One of them, a guy called Ray, kept looking at me. He was a big bastard, massive arms with a bulldog tattooed on one bicep and a St George flag on the other and I wasn't sure whether I liked it or not. I still wasn't sure whether they were straight, gay or what, and I was keeping my head down on that one. Later in the evening, Nick asked me if I wanted to go back to his place afterwards and I said "Sure, why not" Only later did I realise that a few of the others were going back too. We got into the flat and Nick started eating the face of a guy called Benny, a tough looking little guy with a scar on his chin. Someone fetched beers from the fridge and we all helped ourselves. Nick and Benny were going at it hammer and tongs by this time and the other two, Ray and a guy called Tone, were looking at me and finally Ray said, "Want to go through to the bedroom and give these two a bit of peace?" "Yea, sure", I said and we picked up our beers and went through with Tone following on. The two of them made a grab for me and started undressing me. I wasn't sure if I was into this or not but I didn't want to look a wimp, so I played along. As soon as my trousers were off, Tone started chewing on my dick and Ray went down and started eating my arsehole, it was fucking great. When I was hard, Tone stood up, dropped his pants and turned round, practically backing on to me. I buried my shaft and was fucking him good style with Ray still licking and tonguing me, then he stood up and I felt his dick knocking at my back door. I stopped fucking Tone, pressed back and took his dick all the way, then started fucking Tone again. It took us a few seconds to get into the same rhythm and then we were all moving as one. It didn't take much of that to bring me off and I was shooting into Tone, but Ray was still going, so Tone turned round, licked me clean then pushed my head down on him. After a minute or two, either by design or accident, they both came at the same time, filling me up at both ends.
They both pulled up their trousers, said something about thanking Nick for them, as they had work in the morning and left. I just sat there unsure what to do, but soon I heard Benny being shown out and Nick came into the room. "Still here? I thought you left with the rest," he said.
"I just hung on to say 'Thanks' for the beer, I guess that puts us even for me entertaining your friends for you."
Nick looked really angry. "Did I ask you to do anything? Did anybody hold you down? What's your problem?" "Nothing, I just thought when you asked me back it would be you and I on our own"
"Well you thought wrong. We had already decided we were coming back here before you arrived, and I had already decided I was giving one to Benny, what you did was up to you. We are all mates, we fuck each other sometimes, other times we have a beer together, it's how we are. If you are expecting some sort of relationship, I'm telling you now, I don't go out with rent boys. Let me know when you retire, I'll think about it then".
I grabbed my jacket and stood to leave, I should have robbed the bastard when I had the chance. As I got to the door he asked "A few of us are going to the football on Saturday, Want to come? It should be a laugh" I looked at him and said, "Are you joking?" "No, seriously, it will be a good day, just because I don want to have an affair with you, doesn't mean I don't want you around, come with us, enjoy yourself." "I'll think about it", I said and left.
Saturdays are always quiet for me, most punters are married men and they do the good husband bit trailing behind a shopping trolley on Saturdays, so I went down the pub early and found Nick and the others along with about 10 other guys. I was quickly introduced, immediately forgot half the names and someone stuck a pint in front of me.
Ray came over and said "I don't know what you're carrying, but we don't allow knives or razors in our lot, it's harder to plead self defence with them on you." He saw by my eyes that I had no idea what he was talking about. I still carried a knife when I met a punter, but not any other time. "Nick, for fuck sake didn't you tell him anything? He's come empty handed." Someone came over and slapped a sap in my hand, a long narrow leather bag half filled with sand; another stuck a cricket stump down the back of my trousers. "Were going to see Millwall play Newcastle at home and there will be trouble, just stick with us, keep your mouth shut and you'll be OK", said Nick.
We drank up and headed to the park, had a few more pints before going in and Nick pointed to a spot near a toilet and said, "Any trouble, we split up wait ten minutes and meet up there." Everything was going OK; the game was going in Millwall's favour then at about 30 minutes to go some guy in a suit decides to have a piss. He picked up a beer can and tried to piss in it, but he was a bit drunk and he splashed right down Ray's leg. Ray grabbed him by the lapels so hard one of them tore, and the guy swung a fist at him. Ray brought his knee up into the guy's nuts and he dropped like a bag of wet shit. Immediately Ray kicked him in the face while Nick sunk his boot into the guy's ribs and shouted, "Scatter" I couldn't resist it, I stomped on his gut and spat on him then ran with the rest.
We regrouped and watched the rest of the game then went to a pub and had a pint with a large crowd of Millwall supporters when someone came in and said there was a crowd of Newcastle supporters waiting down the road. Everybody pitched out of the pub and ran shouting and hooting towards the Newcastle supporters and I ran in the thick of them. I pulled the cricket stump from my belt and when we reached them I just lashed out at every black and white scarf I saw. I caught one guy across the back of his head and I swear I heard the fucker crack. It was fucking great; I had never felt such a rush in my life, punching, kicking buzzing like a machine. A big guy with long hair grabbed me and tried to head butt me, but I swerved, drew the sap and caught him behind the ear. He stopped, looked stunned, so I cracked him again. Finally Nick grabbed me from behind (I even took a swing at him) and dragged me away just as the cops were charging down the street. We ran to the underground and got a tube home. I had a cut above my eye and Nick took me back to his place to clean it up. He told me I was in for a black eye in the morning, and when he took a close look I stared into his face and grabbed his packet "I don't care what you want, if I don't get a shag tonight, I'm going to rape the first dog I see on the way home". He just laughed, pulled me into the bedroom and pulled me onto the bed. We fumbled with each other's clothing til we were naked. He grabbed at my arse, but I pulled back "Hang on a minute", I said, "Are we mates," "Yea, of course" he laughed. "Well, I seem to remember you telling me that you and your mates shag each other, I reckon it's my turn" He just grinned, slapped my arse then lifted his legs to let me in. I was still high from the afternoon and I shagged him like someone was standing over me with a stopwatch. I climaxed and lay back but before I could catch my breath he had me on my face and he was ramming my arse. We went at it like pile drivers all night and I left in the morning.
Next day I had a call from a guy I had seen a few times asking me to meet him at 9 o'clock, he wanted to meet me and take me back to his house, his wife was away for the week. "Going home with you costs extra", I said. "How much?" he asked. Well, for what you're into (Eating my dirty arse then sucking me off) its 50 pounds, 100 pounds if you want me to stay the night"
He thought for a moment then said "OK". I was just about to make arrangements when I thought 'I can't fucking be arsed with this' "Why don't you just fuck off you dirty old pervert, you turn my stomach, you haven't got enough money to pay me for what you want", and slammed the phone down.
On the Tuesday night I went into the pub and Nick was sitting with two older guys. "What you up to?" he asked
"Nothing much, I said, "Looking for a job". He just raised one eyebrow and smiled.
Chapter Four
The other guys left and Nick came over to me, I offered him a pint but he refused saying I would have to hang on to my money if I wasn't earning. That riled me a bit but I let it go. "So, what made you give up the work?" he asked. "Suddenly I didn't have the stomach for it," I said, "And besides, I know I don't have long before they want fresher meat, I'm just getting out before I start street-walking around Kings Cross fighting off pimps".
"Good move," said Nick, "But what you going to do with yourself" "What do you mean?" I asked. "Well, you can't live on fresh air, you have rent to pay, and you need to eat." I got angry, did he think I was going to be asking for hand-outs? "I'll manage," I said. "I've got about 800 pounds in the post office and over 7000 pounds in building societies, so I don't need fuck all off anybody"
"Hold on, smart-arse, don't lose your temper with me, I know you can fight but I'll still smack your arse if you talk to me like that," he said, "I was only asking what type of job you were going to look for. There's no point in you taking some shit job you hate, you'll stick it about two weeks and you'll be back on the game".
I had to be honest and admit that I hadn't really thought about it, but what he said made sense. "Do you have any interests? Anything you would like to do?" I couldn't think of a fucking thing. "Ever do anything mechanical? Tinker with cars or anything?" My eyes lit up, "Yes, when I was about eight or nine, my mum had this guy staying with her, one of the nicer ones, and he had an old car. He was always doing something to it and he would get me to help, explaining what went where and what it did, I liked that a lot."
"OK, my boss must be about ready to start a new apprentice, the last one passed his exams two months ago and left. We mainly do bikes, but you would learn everything, the money is shit to start with and the work is hard, but you'll learn well and have a good trade in three years if you can learn to control that temper and mind your lip. If you want I'll have a word with him tomorrow"
"Yea," I said, "That would be good, I'd like that."
"Good, that's settled," he said "Now how about breaking into one of those bank accounts and buying me a pint."
A couple of drinks later he said "Fancy a fuck tonight?" "Too right I do," I said laughing. "Good, 'cos there is a really good looking guy at the bar keeps looking at you, if we play our cards right, we both can have him."
Being Mr Discretion, I turned right round and looked at the guy who immediately stuck his head into his pint. "Well done, prick, why don't you just frighten him right off". About ten minutes later the guy went into the toilet and Nick followed. The guy came out first and when Nick came out he spoke to the guy and brought him over to the table. "Spike, this is Chris, he's new to the area so I invited him to join us." I shook his hand and gave him a half smile. "I was telling Chris how much you fancy him," Nick said as I choked on my drink. "But I explained to him how we're an affair and we don't cheat behind each other's back and the only time we go with anyone else is when we have a threesome." By this time I was trying to light a cigarette to stop myself from laughing. "Finally I said, "That's the way it is, Chris, so, what do you think?"
"Well, I don't know," he said, I've never done a threesome before" "Double the fun," I said, "Let's go.
We finished our pints and walked back to Nick's and when we got in I opened some beers. This Chris guy was still a bit edgy, so Nick rolled a joint and let him have most of it, which calmed him down a bit. I made the first move, trying to get him horny, but he was still, a bit uptight, so Nick came over and took my dick out and started sucking on it. That got him going a bit and I was able to get his dick out and play with it. We all got undressed and went to bed and I soon had him on his face fingering his arse. He was tense, and he said "I haven't done this much, do you have any poppers?" Nick went to the fridge and got a bottle, opened it and stuck it under the guy's nose. I have never seen anyone react to poppers like him, he was like a man possessed, sucking on Nick, ramming his arse against my dick, moaning and, every few minutes, asking for more poppers. He kept telling me to go faster, harder, give him more. He already had everything I had, but Nick came behind us and put his hand on my cock. Soon he was sticking three of his fingers in with my dick and the guy was going fucking mental. Nick signalled to me to go on my back and get him sitting on me so I managed to pull him onto his side, then get him on top of me without having to pull out. Nick swivelled him so he was facing me then Nick got behind and put his dick against mine. The next time I pushed forward, Nick pushed too and we were both in. By this time the poppers were in his hand and he just sniffed permanently as we double fucked him. He was pleading, begging; he didn't know where he was, but he wanted more of everything. I was ready to shoot anytime but Nick was telling me to hold back, hold back. When I couldn't hold any more we both came at the same time, the hottest feeling I ever had. When we stopped, Chris was still moaning as if he hadn't even noticed we were finished, riding our dicks and pulling on his own. Suddenly my dick felt warm and wet. Nick looked at me and winked, the fucker was pissing in the guys arse. That did it; Chris dropped the poppers from his nose and shot a wad all over me.
When he calmed down, we both withdrew and Nick told him to go to the toilet. We could hear him squirting and Nick's piss hitting the side of the pan and we both started to laugh. When he came out of the toilet he was trying to be Mr Prim again, saying he had to leave. We let him go, then we got up and had another beer. Half an hour later we were back in bed and I was getting royally fucked. I kept thinking what it would be like to get pissed in and decided one day I would ask him to do it to me.
Two weeks later I started my job as an apprentice mechanic, and I quickly found out that Nick hadn't lied, the wages were crap and the work was hard, but I really did like it. A couple of times over the next few months I would get fired up about something, but Nick was always there to slap me down before things got serious. Six months later the lease ran out on Nick's flat and he had to look for something else and he had decided to buy something. The only one that he liked was a two bedroom and was a good bit more expensive than he anticipated, so I suggested that since I was spending about 4 nights a week at his place anyway it would make sense if we bought something together. I was paying rent on a grotty flat I hardly used, and although I wouldn't be able to pay half the mortgage initially, I could put a good lump towards the deposit.
We talked about it for a few days; Nick didn't want to get into any lovey-dovey gay marriage and neither did I, but as I pointed out we could have our own bedrooms and do our own thing. Finally it was agreed and we went to a lawyer and drew up a proper agreement about who paid what, who owned what etc and went ahead. Nick had told me before that he was proud of the fact I had saved so much money, and not stuck it in my arm like some. I have never told him that it didn't all come from working; I don't think he needs to know that.
We finally moved in and had a great skinhead house warming, eighteen horney guys there and more fucking than we thought possible. I got to fuck Benny, the guy with the scar and I realised why Nick had been so keen that night, this was the hottest, most talented fuck I had ever come across, he could do things with his arse muscles that you wouldn't believe, you just need to put your cock inside him and his arse does the rest. As it was a holiday weekend, the party went on from Friday night til Monday afternoon, I don't think there was anybody there I didn't either fuck or get fucked by or at least suck.
So far it has worked well, over the past six years we have had some great times, and a few really rough ones, including some stand-up fights with smashed furniture, but all in all it has been good. We still go about with the crowd, and been involved in some great fights. We go out together sometimes, other times on our own. Sometimes one of us picks someone up and brings him home. If we want to share we involve the other, if not we go straight to our own bedroom and shut the door: if there is no one else then we sleep together and the sex is still as good as ever, which reminds me, I never did get him to piss in me: we never saw Chris again either. It is not a marriage, its not an affair, but it's a relationship that works for us very well. Nick pointed out to me recently that I am now at an age that he really fancies, I pointed out to him that he's almost at an age where I start charging.
So, to go back to my original question, when did I become queer, and the answer is I don't know, but I'm fucking glad it happened.