Chapter 42

So, I had a long conversation with Ciaran via e-mail. Setting out what I wanted to do, and what I expected him to do with regard a trial partnership. There was no point in putting anything down on paper.

A signed contract is all well and good in a court of law, but when it comes down to a couple of teenagers selling their bodies for sex, well, I’d hate that to become public knowledge, especially in a court of law.

I provided Ciaran with all the information he needed, especially the all important, “safety photo”. Ciaran was slightly built, athletic even, (and rather gorgeous, ) but he was no match for a psycho intent on doing him harm.

Of course, if we were to indulge in threesomes, then at least I would be there to protect him to some degree.

But safety, both his and mine, remained my prime concern. I was gratified that he was happy with all my recommendations and requirements. I got the impression that he was just really eager to get going and to get his first paying cock up his arse. Well, that first cock was going to be mine and I was certainly not going to be paying.

However, it occurred to me that Ciaran would almost certainly have his school uniform and Arthur would pay handsomely to get his hands on young fresh Ciaran. So maybe, that first paying cock ought to be Arthur’s. After I had “road tested” Ciaran myself, an odious task, but someone has to do it, I’d broach the subject to Ciaran. If he was amenable, and why wouldn’t he be, then I’d pitch the idea to Arthur. I’m sure Arthur would jump at the chance to have us both. Of course, the fee would have to reflect the special nature of the liaison, say £500 for the two of us. Yes, I was beginning to see the financial benefits of taking young Ciaran on board.

The timing of our proposed liaison was problematic, I wasn’t too keen on missing any of my studies. But the lure of Ciaran’s beautiful, virginal body was powerfully persuasive. So powerful in fact, that I planned to skip afternoon college and visit him at his home at midday. All the information I needed was in his e-mails. I decided to attend morning classes, maths, biology and Spanish, then skip out at lunch break. So, two days later, at lunchtime I was exiting my Uber a hundred yards from Ciaran’s house. As agreed in our e-mail, Ciaran had kept in contact by text, that it was safe to proceed. And so, at twenty past one, on that Monday morning, I rang the doorbell of number eighty six, Ruxley Avenue.

What greeted me when the door opened, was a sight that made me instantly erect. Ciaran was shorter than I was expecting, but no less beddable.

Wavy blond hair, eyes of the deepest, sexiest blue and a perfect white smile. He was dressed in just a pair of brief swim shorts

His first words might well have been mine.

‘Oh fuck, you’re gorgeous!’ He grabbed my arm and yanked me inside. As soon as the door was closed behind us, he kissed me. Or rather, we kissed, because I was on him like a shot and pressing my mouth on his, and snogging him hard against the hallway wall. As I ground my open mouth on his, I pressed my straining cock against his flat stomach. My hands roamed his tight young body, and he did the same to me. Through the sudden tremendous rush of arousal, I realised that this wasn’t what I wanted our first coupling to be. A frenzied, animal shagging in the hallway, was not what I had in mind. Fighting against all my carnal instincts and strong lustful urges, I managed to pull away.

‘Wait, Ciaran, wait. Not here, not in the hallway. Your bedroom, let’s go to your bedroom.’

Ciaran just stared at me. ‘Stuff the bedroom, I wanna fuck now.’

To underline his feelings on the matter, he dropped to his knees and began to unzip me. It was all I could do to resist him, it took immense strength and willpower to stand back.

‘Come on Ciaran, not here. Your bedroom.’ He looked genuinely pissed off, but he did as I asked and led me upstairs. His bedroom was typical teenage lad.The obligatory games console, with a ridiculously large TV. Huge pictures of various Superheroes adorned all the walls. Action figures and models of his favourites were dotted everywhere. Predictably, his bed quilt was of a Superhero, Captain America. There was a common theme running throughout ... all male, rippling muscles and tight costumes. This was clearly a shrine to the homoerotic. I was so enthralled by the super testosterone of the room, that I almost didn’t hear the sound of his shorts going down.