The Nanny

        I stared at Jess in disbelief and sought to marshal the sudden turmoil of my thoughts. Traffic rumbled busily along Connecticut Avenue five stories below us, the noise muffled by distance.

"You want me to do what?" I hissed, unable to believe my ears. I thought momentarily Jess must have enjoyed a glass too many of my Chardonnay.

"Let Barry live here with you for the next year."

"Your younger brother?"

She nodded lazily; we'd been through this, admittedly only scratching the surface, more than once through the evening. I still couldn't believe she was serious.

"A bloody teenager?"

"Come on, Thomas, he's an older teenager. He turns eighteen tomorrow and he gets out of that juvenile detention centre in Richmond next Monday."

"Jess, I love you very much, even though you're a woman." I looked affectionately at her waiting determinedly on the sofa. "But I do not want some juvenile delinquent living in my flat, no matter how old they're going to be in the morning. For heaven's sake, look about you, woman - some of these antiques are priceless and all of them are virtually irreplaceable."

"Barry isn't like that."

I glared at her. "What's he like then, love? Most young lads haven't spend the last year and a half of their lives in a juvenile prison for doing nothing."

"Thomas, the truth is that Barry's been in and out of trouble since he was thirteen. Neither mom nor dad can control him. Most of his trouble's been drugs like this last time. Still, though, he's a good kid - and there's been nothing really serious."

"And you want me to have him dealing drugs out of my flat?" I groaned.

"That boy's going to be doing piss tests and have surprise visits from his probation officer and everything, Thomas. He'll have no chance for any stupidity. He'd have to be super-retarded to go back into that-" Words failed her then.

"And if he does? What happens if he does do something stupid, even if it is totally out of character?"

"They take him away in handcuffs, no questions asked. He goes straight to jail and he'll go in as an adult this time - he'd get years and years for even the smallest offence. Thomas, Barry's a bright boy - he understands his position, he knows the score."

"Jess, look, it isn't just all these things here, all my prised possessions - I'm also gay and open about it. What am I going to do with a straight teenaged boy in my house - even if he isn't a monster?"

"Barry's bi - maybe even gay, for all I know."

My eyebrows rose into my buzzed hairline. "He's what?"

"You two have something in common." She grinned.

I mentally calculated, not that it took the brains of an archbishop to work this one out - the lad was eighteen and had been in a detention centre nearly two years. "Jess, no sixteen year old American in his right mind is going to tell his older sister that he swishes. I doubt very much that a seventeen or eighteen year old would either."

"He didn't tell me he was gay, Thomas."

I was speechless.

"He's cuter than shit, Thomas. Dad'll pay you a thousand a month - plus a ten thousand dollar bonus for helping our family out with this, no questions asked. Honestly, he's as sick about the whole thing as the rest of us - and Barry needs a good role model."

She stepped carefully around me and I was still numb as she rounded the sofa and made for the door. "We'll have him here Monday afternoon - around three o'clock. Honestly, Thomas, you'll love him."

* * *

I was not a happy man throughout the rest of the weekend. In fact, it's fair to say that I was very unhappy indeed. Jess had disappeared without another word and didn't bother getting in touch again. I had no idea what her father's last name was or how to reach the man. Ditto with her mother. It became increasingly obvious that on Monday at three o'clock I was to have a long-term, and unwelcome guest move into my nice, comfortable flat up from DuPont Circle in the American Capital. Either that or I picked up and left for London forthwith. Definitely before Monday at three o'clock in the afternoon.

The trouble was that Jess knew my tastes all too well. She had seen the university students who were often my weekend guests. I had become intrigued by the time I went to bed Saturday night.

An eighteen year old? A bit young perhaps, but still within range. I wondered if he truly was as bright as she had implied. And as cute. I was obviously reputable enough for any lad's father, not that I particularly wished to be in this instance. Which one could it have been that proved my worth - the public school education; the responsible position as Washington Bureau Chief for The Sentinel, old-family money, or perhaps even the growing possibility of a hereditary title as my dear older brother seemed incapable of producing heirs with any of the three women he had so far seen fit to marry. I was forty-four, still fit and reasonably muscled, though I did prefer an hour at piano than one where I grunted and sweated my way through an agonising exercise regimen. And I certainly didn't flame.

I would however call the local constabulary - or the cavalry if need be - at the first indication this young hellion coming into my home was getting even slightly out of hand. Most definitely. Even emphatically. And I would still collect my ten thousand dollar bonus.

A lad needed to have acquired the behaviour of a gentleman upon his majority, no matter that the coming of age was that day or the day before. One simply had to draw the line somewhere. By the time I retired Sunday night, I had nearly convinced myself that I was exactly what young Barry needed. A firm hand and no coddling - definitely unlike anything he had yet experienced here in America. After all, it came down to a simple choice for him: me or gaol.

We sat in my living room - Jess' Mum and Dad obviously far from comfortable on the Chippendale sofa, Jess and Barry equally ill at ease perched to either side of them in the matching Queen Annes, and I on the other, seemingly more comfortable Queen Anne facing the four of them. I was undoubtedly the only one who had relaxed into the situation, and probably the only one who wasn't catching the tense mood brought into the flat with Barry's punctual arrival.

The lad was infinitely cuter than shit all right, I had to admire Jess for her eloquence on that point. Tall, slim, with blond curly hair, boyish freckles parading across his gently aquiline nose. He had certainly inherited the finest features of his Anglo-Irish ancestry. But he was as uncomfortable as the rest of his family, and decidedly unhappy with his present set of circumstances. He fancied himself to be a young James Dean but came closer to the altar boy who had spilt holy water while the priest was baptising an otherwise quiet infant.

I was almost convinced this could be a bit of fun.

"You do anything to upset this arrangement - I mean anything, young man-" his father was repeating himself. I could see from the glazed look in the lad's eyes that the words weren't getting past his outer ear, never mind as far as his eardrums. "I'm not going to pay for the lawyer the next time. You're going be up one very muddy creek without a paddle if you screw up again."

I wished the man would stow his pointless lecture and leave. I could imagine what the boy was thinking, and sympathised.

"Listen to your Dad, Barry," his mother chimed in. She was decidedly out of her element. Jess inconspicuously pushed an envelope across the end of the low coffee table and under a Tiffany lamp, causing me a moment's anxiety that she might tip it over. Barry stifled a well-practised yawn and shifted his position again. My sympathies faded slightly at his lack of acting ability. I suspected that, if his parents had wanted young Barry undivided attention, he needed to have dropped his trousers and be grabbing the escritoire beside and slightly behind him, with his father wielding a swishing cane in closer and closer arcs right behind him.

"I expect you to be at the warehouse at eight sharp. If you're just five minutes late, first I'm calling Mr. Reed here to see where you are, then I'm calling your probation officer. You're on a very tight leash this time, Barry. Try not to mess it up again."

Finally, Jess managed to usher both mother and father to the door. I shook hands and winced at the man's idea of manly handshaking.

"This month's rent is on the end table where I was sitting, Thomas," Jess told me in a half whisper, "the bonus too. Don't take any shit off Barry." She smiled as the door closed firmly behind her - and my last hope of rescue, if I had been thinking clearly.

We were alone. I knew that his eyes were on me even before I turned from the now closed outer door. They followed me as I returned to my chair. His face was expressionless as, longing for a nice tall drink, I sat down and faced him.

"What's the real deal?" he asked.

"As far as what?"

"What do I have to do to keep you off my ass?"

I sighed. Americans could be so bloody up-front about some things that it almost amounted to a threat on civility.

"I expect you to behave as a gentleman would. No drugs at all, although that should be obvious. Follow whatever rules and jump whatever hoops the bureaucracy intends putting you through. Definitely don't give them any reason to come into my home with guns blazing." He smiled tightly at that one, we'd seen the drugs people on television news reports quite recently making unsuitable headlines.

"I also expect you to do your fair share of keeping things up around here - I have a maid once a week, but I don't want to see a sink of week-old dishes or toothpaste stains in the lavatory for her to find. Clothes in your hamper - the normal, civilised things you should have already learnt at home." I took a deep breath. "I would also rather not have a gaggle of teenagers under foot when I come back in the evenings, or over the weekends, for that matter."

He nodded. "It could have been worse. Do I call you Mr. Reed?"

"Thomas will do, and bear in mind that it could become worse, unless you keep up your side of the bargain."

"Okay, I can live with a few rules, like it or not. So how did I end up foisted off on you? I mean, we don't know each other and you aren't exactly the Mr. Domination type."

Definitely direct as well as up-front. This could become a most unpleasant year if he remained so abysmally American.

"Your parents…"

"They didn't want me," he growled. "They never have. I know the story."

"Not quite. Your sister volunteered me to your father as being a good and trustworthy example and volunteered ten thousand of his dollars to me as a suitable reward."

He grimaced. "That figures. Money. The bastard's always thought he could buy anything he wanted - including me." He studied me again, more carefully this time, sizing me up in comparison to our plush surroundings. "You really that hard up for cash you're willing to take me on, especially with the kind of baggage you know I'm carrying?"

"No, but an extra ten thousand I don't have to report to either Inland Revenue or your IRS is always welcome." I permitted that to linger openly between us for a moment. "This baggage you're carrying - why do you?"

"You mean why did I get my ass into hot water over and over like somebody stupider than shit?" I nodded.

He snorted. "Maybe Dad's shrink is right and I just wanted more and more attention. Having one big-ass cop holding me by the arms when dearest Mommy opened the door certainly got me some in the beginning. Not the right kind, of course, but that isn't in the shrink-manual, now is it? Maybe I blew my gaskets more than most guys my age. Maybe I just got in a rut and couldn't figure out how to get out of it. I don't know, I never gave it much thought before."

"But you're out of most of it now and I hope I can help you stay out of it. Within reason, that is."

He folded his arms over his chest, not protectively, and not provocatively either. "So, you're like my nanny through this year while I'm on probation?"

"I hope you don't need me changing your nappies."

He laughed and then grinned at me. "I think I'm going to like you, Tom. You're an all right guy." Then the grin turned to a frown. "So, what made you decide to take me under your wing - other than the money, I mean?"

"Jess said you were bi or gay and-"

His eyebrows hid under his hairline as he stared at me in complete and total shock. At that moment, I was forced to suspect I had been lied to, the shock was too genuine to be playacting.

"She what?" he croaked in a strangled voice. His face was white as a sheet, his eyes bulged to match the veins on his neck. The arms weren't folded in a relaxed fashion any more. "I never!" he squeaked and I was now quite sure I had been lied to. No teenager could act this well, not with this kind of mingled shock, fear and embarrassment.

There was a very long and pregnant pause in the living room of my flat; neither one of us knew what to say or do next. Barry finally pushed himself off the Queen Anne and turned toward the door.

"If me being gay was why you decided to let me bunk here, does that mean you are?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"I'm gay," I admitted. "But that isn't the reason I agreed."

His whole body shuddered. "Am I going to have to - to have sex with you to stay here? Is that part of the deal? You get me and I get no trouble from my probation officer?"

I stood awkwardly and took a step toward him before I realised that was exactly what he was probably most afraid of.

"Barry, what you do in bed - or in an alleyway for that matter - doesn't have to involve me. It's probably better if it doesn't involve me. As I said, that wasn't the reason I agreed to your staying here."

He turned and studied me, keeping the recently vacated chair between us. "You aren't going to want - you aren't going to touch me as part of our deal, as part of their deal?"

"What you do and with whom is your business, young man," I told him resolutely. "I only said that I didn't want the place over-run with teenagers when I come home at night." I had never forced sex on anyone and wasn't about to start with him - even if I did have him by the bullocks, given the situation. "I would, however, suggest you card any bird before you get going - that is the right terminology, isn't it?" He nodded and I forced myself to smile before continuing. "I suspect even the whisper of statutory rape would do nasty things to your newly won freedom."

"Shit! I'll never get a chance to pop a nut in a girl - not for at least the next year." He balled up a fist and hit the delicate chair frame, I winced. "The only fucking freedom I have is what you let me have here."

"Why's that?"

"Probation's going to stay on my ass. They're going to call at eight-ten every single morning to make sure I'm at work. They'll make surprise calls during the day just to make sure I'm towing the line. I've got to be back in this apartment by six-thirty unless I'm working overtime and can prove it. Don't get me wrong, it's a great apartment, what I've seen of it, but I don't go back out." He snorted and turned back to me, shaking his head. "It's prison all over again - just nicer."

"How're they going to know?" I mumbled, slightly taken aback by his outburst.

"You didn't notice my cute little anklet when I was sitting over there?" I shook my head. "Electronic surveillance. They're going to know where I am every minute of my life this next year with that beeping beauty. I go anywhere I'm not supposed to be, I'm a fucked duck; I go back to prison - this time as an adult, serving twenty years of adult time."

* * *

I served roast beef with mashed potatoes and asparagus for our first dinner together. It was as Yank as I was going to make my food but I did think the poor lad might like something that wasn't especially institutional. He eyed the wine in my glass wistfully but I didn't offer and he didn't ask. Americans think it quite all right that a person vote - or be killed in a military action - at age eighteen. They refuse, however, to accept that person is adult enough to drink wine with their dinner in their own home. I had no desire to break American law - especially with this lad, no matter how ridiculous I thought the premise behind the rule.

He stood in the kitchen doorway after dinner and watched me rinse the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. He chuckled and I turned to face him.

"You know what's funny?" I shook my head. We hadn't talked much through the meal, but I knew it would come out eventually. "You're going to be watching my butt around here, no matter what I've got covering it, and no one can say a thing about it because my Dad agreed to it and is paying you. You're going to be checking out my basket too, I imagine."

"Barry, I'm fully capable of ignoring your body," I growled, permitting myself to become offended. "I'm certainly no sex fiend, and I'm certainly not into petulant little boys who don't know me one way or the other."

"Hang on. I'm going to be thinking you're checking me out - even if you aren't. That isn't what's funny, anyway."

"So what is?" I asked, drying my hands and then carefully smoothing the dishcloth back across its rail.

"My cellmate in Richmond, in the detention block, he wanted my ass more than anything in the world. He was a real big dude and looked like one of those pro wrestlers, and he had a horse cock to go with his size too. I don't know how I managed to keep him out of my throat and my butt this past year."

"He was that obvious?"

Barry laughed. "That bastard was bad, Tom. Real bad. I had to shower while he chowed down to keep my cherry mine. I gave up breakfast to keep my butt clean and all mine. I had to let him play with my ass most nights while I jacked him off, though. I almost got to the point I didn't care - I was almost to the point of letting him pork me. Almost. But in the end I guess he didn't have the nerve to force me, no matter what his size and stuff."

"What stopped you? I mean, you said that you almost let him, why didn't you?"

"The main thing was AIDS, man. I know I'm going to die like everybody else, but I want to be a lot older than I am now and I want to go quick when it's time. They don't pass out raincoats in detention centres. Then, there was the fact that everybody in that place - all five hundred of those guys - would know he was porking me." He looked down at his hands. "But I was almost past both of those things when Dad's lawyer promised to get me out. I just wasn't about to be that guy's fuck toy if I could get out and have a chance to live normal."

"So, you think you're in something of the same situation with me?"

"You're a lot nicer than he was." He chuckled. "Better looking too."

"Thank you, I think." I didn't know if he was finally relaxing or if he was moving himself toward a decision that involved me, my bed, and an honest appraisal of himself. I grinned and hoped I managed to strike just the right poise between lack of interest and being a satyr. "You know which bedroom is mine. You're the only person who can put you there."

His face went blank. "Yeah - me deciding I'm gay, after all."

He pivoted and disappeared back into the flat. Moments later I heard the shower running, and sighed. It was going to be a difficult year if things carried on in this vein. I went to my office and buried myself in the economic news of the day for my next news column.

Barry had left for work when I woke the next morning, but he'd left half a pot of strong, hot coffee and cleaned up any mess in the kitchen after himself. I smiled: the lad had learnt the rudiments of being a gentleman after all. It was just no one had helped him to put what he learnt to use. Now we just had to see how long he could keep it up for.

* * *

The bare-chested lad was pacing my living room when I let myself quietly into the flat that evening. He had heard me enter, I had no doubt of that. But he still paced, showing no external reaction to my presence, his eyes nervously travelling over the paintings hung on walls and other bits and pieces in glass cabinets, or on the shelves, over the tables and escritoire. He was taking in everything. Like a man slightly out of his depth trying to come to terms with something. Like a man awaiting his executioner's pleasure.

"Things go well at work?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I guess," was all he said, and continued his pacing. His eyes never stopped moving from one antique to another, one work of art to the next, gauging them all. I almost felt as if he was putting a value on each item, working out what he could get from a fence for this piece, or that. I knew I was being unfair, but couldn't stop myself.

Instead, I went to the kitchen and poured a stiff whiskey. I supposed I would need its medicinal effects before our little plateau was played out.

"I couldn't get you out of my mind all day today," he told me as soon as I returned to the living room, continuing his pacing. "You kept plugging me every time I let my mind wander. You or that arsehole in Richmond. I had a hard-on all day - and it kept drooling. Shit! My shorts were wet by the time I got back here."

I stared at him in amazement, remembering at the last moment to snap my mouth shut, and wishing I'd already finished the whiskey in my hand and was sipping at a second one. "Are you suggesting you want something to happen?" I managed to croak.

Barry snorted. "I don't think I'm ready to take a dick up the ass, if that's what you mean. I am just horny as shit. I jacked off in the shower last night and, later in bed, and it still stayed hard. I'm not going to see a girl that way for a year at least." He stopped and faced me. "I'm horny, Tom, that's all there is to it. And the thing that's turned me on is ... Look, I'll try whatever feels comfortable - as long as it's with you."

"Me?" I swallowed the remains of my neat whiskey, nearly choked on it, and then just stared at him.

He chuckled, then coloured, looked down at his hands and then back up at me. "You're a good looking man, Tom Reed. You're comfortable to be around, I could tell that from the moment everyone else left yesterday. You're pretty nice to talk too and all that. If I'm going to go gay, I can't do much better than learn with you. Right now, though, I'm just horny and need some pretty urgent relief. Either way things end up, I figure you'll keep quiet about it. Hell, my sister thinks that I'm gay anyway, and one of these days she's going to let that slip to my dad, and it won't matter a butt-fuck what I say then."

"Do you know what you're suggesting?" I asked, strangling on the words.

"You suck dick, don't you?" I nodded, apprehensive. "I can do that back - you know, to keep things even between us. This one time, at least." He snorted. "I'm just not going to swallow your load, man - I don't think I'm ready to be that gay yet."

I sat on the edge of my bed, my boxers barely covering my tumescence. Barry had calmly toed his sneakers off and stood before me, a bulge definitely snaking across his jeans and a long way towards his hip.

He shivered and then grinned tightly. "I didn't know taking my clothes off would be this hard; I never had any problems with a woman. Once I got away from that ape pawing my ass all the time I thought it would be easy, find someone you like and make up for all the bad times. I didn't think it'd be another man though."

"Want me to help?" I leant forward and unbuttoned his jeans with an expert touch which belied my own nervousness. When he didn't pull away, my fingers moved quickly down the front of his trousers releasing the buttons of his straining fly. I peeled the denim lapels back and found he wasn't wearing smalls. Tight abs slipped beneath tight dark curls. My fingers moved along his hips to find the mounds of his backside, pushing the denim down as I inched closer to him. He flinched slightly as I squeezed his cheeks but didn't pull away.

"You don't wear y-fronts," I mused as we moved closer to one another across the bed.

"Underwear, you mean?" I nodded. "I took them off when I got home. For you."

I eased the last portions of his jeans off the strong hips and down his legs - and tried to avoid looking at his most salient feature as it sprang out between us. I wanted to see all of him in his naked glory at one time. "Step out of them," I told him when I had the denim to his ankles.

The bloody anklet from probation was a bitch. It was a chore to get his jeans over the dull steel ring that held his ankle snugly. Eventually he managed it, hopping slightly from side to side to regain his balance, flaunting his manhood in my face.

I sat back when he was completely nude, and smiled. Long legs, seven inches or so of trimmed American prime, tight abs, and a hairless smooth chest. Blond curls framing a heart-shaped face. Freckles nearly hidden on flushed skin. Blue eyes watching me. Adonis would have withdrawn in shame.

"I look okay?"

"Quite nice."

"Yeah? Only quite nice?" He smiled when I met his gaze. I nodded and touched the wide knob of his hard dick gently with my fingertips. He shivered. "Your lips would feel better, Tom."

"Lie down then - here, next to me. You might as well be comfortable while we try this one out." I waited impatiently as he sat down at the head of the bed and scooted his bum to the centre.

There was still a certain innocent hesitation in each of his movements, but also a certain pride in himself, barely hidden. He lay out with his legs slightly open, his abs tensed to keep the mast tall and proud. Then he wiggled his arse and grinned at me as my eyes hungrily watched the graceful movement of his dick. "I guess I'm ready when you are."

My hand closed on his knee and I smiled back. "Last chance to back out."

"To back out?" I nodded, but he shook his head slowly, smiling that same serene, innocent smile that wasn't quite as innocent as he wanted it to seem. But then, who could be innocent with so much American prime standing straight up and begging for attention. "No way. I haven't had decent sex in nearly two years - and the last one was a fumbled quickie in the back-seat of a rinkey-dink small car. I want to enjoy every moment of this."

I had to strain to keep my hand under control as it moved slowly up his thigh, caressing his leg hair and revelling in the young, firm flesh. The fingers of that hand cupped his balls tenderly, feeling them shift in their sac as I leant up and over him and nuzzled at his closest nipple with my lips and tongue.

"Holy shit!" he yelped as his pole jerked against my hand. "I didn't know my tits connected directly to my cock."

I winked at him. "Your nipples and your prostate both do, Barry. So do your arselips."

"In my ass?"

I nodded.

"Keep convincing me and I might decide to find out what that feels like too. Do me, Tom. I'm a quick study."

I licked, then nibbled the first nipple before moving across his chest to the other one. My free hand travelled the same, soft route up and my fingers tweaked at his nipple. My other hand tugged at his balls, fingertips spreading downwards to caress the virgin pucker of his arse.

He moaned. His whole body quivered underneath me. One hand covered the crown of my head, fingers splaying across my skull and through my hair, the other went to my hip, moving under the waist band of my smalls to find my dick. I licked my way down across his ribs and onto the bunched muscles of his abs, rimmed his navel with the very tip of my tongue, and found the base of his mast. My lips climbed it, my tongue explored each ridge and valley until my mouth was poised on the mesa of his engorged knob.

"I'm close," he moaned as my tongue spread out over the underside of his purple crown and my lips began their all encompassing descent. "Jesus!"

My lips closed tightly around him as they moved down his shaft, my tongue a chute guiding his meat into my throat, lubricating it and pleasuring it at one and the same time. He grabbed my head with both hands and pulled me on him, moaned, and his bum ground against the bedspread. I pulled back slightly and he followed me up, humped into my throat in one smooth stroke. "Stick your finger in my hole!" he hissed.

I obliged, one hand pushing the first finger gently through the tight grip of his arse as the other hand roamed and explored the godlike smoothness of his chest.

"More! Give me another one." I quickly had two fingers massaging his love gland and he humped my face with short, hard thrusts. "I'm real close," he groaned through clinched teeth. I tweaked one nipple then the other, gently at first, then pulling harder and harder at them.

Below us, the last of the evening rush hour honked its way along Connecticut Avenue as Barry surrendered his dick to me on my bed.

I felt his helmet swell against my tonsils and pulled off him, slowly wanking his shaft with my lips as he erupted. His body jerked and a volley of jizz splattered across the side of my cheek as I moved down to his nuts and tongued them; he jerked again and splattered his chest in a long thick line of cream. He gripped my shoulder and I felt his nails press hard into my skin, then relax, grip hard and relax once more. I continued to massage his prostate with two fingers. "That was awesome," he mumbled as I pulled away from his ball sack and the spasms subsided. He propped himself up on both elbows watching me, his face slack after the power of his release. I grinned at him from behind his sticky but still hard mast.

"You've still got your fingers in my ass, don't you?" he asked lazily.

I nodded.

He collapsed on the bed and stared at the ceiling, throwing his arms above him and gripping the wooden headboard. "Shit!" he sighed. "Put a rubber on that dick of yours and show me what the real thing feels like."

Almost in a dream I half-crawled, half-scrambled across the bed to my night table and found a packet. Ripping it open and taking the condom out, I quickly rolled it over my quivering crown and down the shaft, pulling the skin back ahead of the plastic. He rolled onto his side and watched me, head resting in the palm of one hand, the other massaging his rampant dick.

"That thing's pretty big, Tom," he mumbled, and smiled appreciatively.

"We don't have to do anything," I answered and prayed he wouldn't take the escape I was offering.

"You got lube? Because I don't think my cherry ass is going to take that all - not without being ripped to shreds."

I nodded and reached back into the night table for the tube.

"Just make sure you grease it up real good, Tom. And me too, make it even easier. And go real slow."

Barry still sported that beautiful erection when I turned back at him. He fell back on the bed once more and lifted his legs towards the ceiling, baring his firm, round cheeks and waiting hole, watching me as I approached.

"I'm no bitch, so I'm not going to do this doggy-style," he explained as I climbed onto the bed. "Besides, I want to watch the action, I want to see me getting plugged."

My finger found his pucker once more and slipped back into his hole. He grabbed at his meat and stroked it slowly and rhythmically as I greased his entrance.

"I guess I'm ready," he mumbled watching me. "Where do you want my legs to go?"

"On my shoulders, lover boy." I leant into him, pushing his legs across his chest so that his arse cheeks lifted off the bed, exposing the slippery hole for my probing while I tongued one hard nipple and then the other. He slipped his legs round me and then crossed them at the ankles over my back as I hugged my body to his. His bum rose further from the bed in search of me and I guided my pole to his entrance.

"Relax, Barry," I told him as my helmet settled against the pucker of muscle.

"You just take it slow and easy. This is my first time and I want it to be as good and easy as it's ever going to get."

He watched me as I began to push my eight inches of John Bull against and into him. He raised his head and crunched up his body to watch my abdomen push forward. He pushed his dick to one side and held it down to watch our coupling better. Biting his lower lip as my helmet pushed into him, his eyes remained open and his attention focused on his arse.

I stopped as soon as the head was past his tight little sphincter.

"Why'd you quit?" he asked, looking up into my eyes.

"I thought you might like a minute or so to adjust to me being in you."

Both his hands grabbed at my backside and then gripped my arsecheeks, pulling me forward. "It doesn't hurt. It just feels full. Give me the whole thing." He pulled me into him, watching our growing connection the whole time as my dick disappeared into the tightness of his lovechute.

He ground his arse against me when I was fully immersed inside him, and grinned.

"I like the way your pubes tickle me down there."

He pulled his hand back across his dick and stroked it back from half mast into a full erection, flexing the muscles in his love canal tentatively along the length of my mast, massaging me as he stroked himself.

"Yeah. This is what it's all about." He grinned. "So - what're you waiting for? You're all the way into my tight little ass, Tom, go ahead and fuck me good."

I didn't need a second invitation, but still, I took it slow - long strokes that kept his eyes round at the sensations they caused in his arse. He quickly learnt the best way to tighten his muscles on me as I retreated and open up again as I slipped the full length back in to the hilt. His hand constantly stroked his own dick in time with my movement in him, and I could feel the tightness of his ball sack with each full thrust banging like a leather tennis ball against my abdomen. His other hand rose slowly along my flank and across the back of my neck. He pulled my face down to his.

"If you're going to fuck me, you've got to kiss me," he mumbled as he raised his head to find my lips and parted them with his tongue. He pulled on his pole and I slowly ploughed his arse. Then I felt the splash of jizz against and across my chest as he held my lips to his. I could go on like this forever, I thought blissfully. Not one of my university students had been as openly giving as this young felon. "Fuck my ass!" he growled as I pulled back. "Jesus!"

Both hands grasped at my backside again and racked up my back in sharp curves as I ploughed him. His dick was still hard and jerked from side to side as my balls pressed against his backside.

"I'm close, Tom. Come with me."

I looked down between our sweating bodies and saw his nuts were riding high on his shaft again, even as his hands rode my backside. I knew I could enjoy this lad's tight body forever. His arse muscles stayed tight, gripping me.

My balls tightened and my thrusts became short and fast.

He came again, his first powerful volley hitting me on the chin, the second splattering up across my chest. God! His balls were certainly full, I thought irreverently and then his arse spasmed and I lost it. I pushed into him as deep as I could and erupted harder than Vesuvius.

He pulled me against him as I shuddered, eyes closed, mouth open, revelling in the sensations of a virgin arse milking me dry. Then I collapsed across his damp, sticky chest, my breath coming in ragged gulps, my dick still twitching and throbbing inside him.

"Did you like it?" I asked when I finally gathered enough air to talk. I nibbled at his ear and wondered if I'd even have enough energy to roll off him.

He chuckled contentedly, his fingertips tracing circles across my back and down to the cheeks of my arse.

"Another couple of bouts tonight and I think I'll have enough information to make that decision, nanny dearest."

"Nanny?" I pushed myself up so I could look into his face.

"Kiss me, nanny." He pulled my face back to meet his and we kissed with an abandon I hadn't felt in years.

I pulled away and looked into his eyes. "Nanny?" I asked again.

"Sure," he said, with that same caressing tone in his voice that made me feel more than just sexual attraction for him. "Because I hear that nannies teach their charges how to do things right."

It's going to be a long year, I thought. And a very good one too.