textfiles/sex/EROTICA/A/adam.txt

                                 ADAM
                                 ----


Chapter 1
---------
    Adam sat  in silence  on the  park bench,  idly watching the ducks
swim aimlessly  around in  circles on the surface of the muddy boating
lake. It  was quite  warm for  February, and  the sun was shining with
such intensity  that he  was forced  to screw  up his eyes against the
glare which was reflected off the water.

    What was he going to do? How could he possibly not know who he was
or where  he came from? If he knew what amnesia was (and he recognised
the word as soon as the doctor used it) how could he not know anything
about himself?  It seemed so strange... to know things you were taught
in school,  mathematical formulae  and historical  facts and  figures,
that Paris  was the  capital of  France and that Margaret Thatcher was
the Prime  Minister, and  yet not  know your  own name or even if your
parents were alive or dead!

    "I'm sorry  I can't  say something which sounds more hopeful," the
doctor had  said, less  than an  hour ago  as Adam had been discharged
from the Infirmary. "I can understand how lost you must feel, but rest
assured that  most amnesics do recover some of their memory if not all
of it."

    Adam smiled  wryly. "And  some never get their memory back at all,
correct?"

    The doctor  nodded. "I'm  afraid so,  but the  percentage is  very
small. Usually  their relatives  identify them  from the newspapers or
through the  police, and  once the patient is back in their home envi-
ronment little day to day things keep jogging their memory."

    Adam wasn't  encouraged. He'd  been in  the hospital  for  over  a
month, ever  since the  police had  found him, dazed and bloody from a
head wound,  wandering through  the streets  late one night. The media
had latched  onto his  case, and for several consecutive days his face
had been on more newspaper covers than Princess Diana's.

    But nothing  had come of it. No-one came forward to claim him, the
police drew  a complete  blank, and,  mysteriously, he  had no form of
identification on him.

    After a  couple of  weeks the  media got  another more interesting
story to keep their readers happy, and Adam's fate was quickly forgot-
ten. Depression set in. Deep, black depression. Luckily he had made at
least one  new friend  in hospital, a young male nurse called Stan who
always had a cheery word to brighten him up.

    "Come on,  sunshine," Stan  had said  one day  as he dispensed his
drugs. "Things could be a lot worse."

    Adam scowled at him. "Really? How?"

    "Well, just look at yourself. You're a good-looking young guy, and
at the risk of making you big-headed I'd even say handsome. You've got
a good  body, even if you have a cracked skull, and I'll bet you won't
be on your own for very long even if no-body turns up from your past."

    The flattery  had made  Adam feel  a bit  better, but not much. He
dreaded the  day when, inevitably, he would have to leave the hospital
and begin  to rebuild his life, but where would he start? He had spent
many sleepless  nights, just  lying in  his bed  and listening  to the
other patients  snoring, wondering  about his predicament. He had very
little money  on him when he was brought in, just a couple of <20>5 notes
and a  bit of  change, no idea where he came from and no idea what his
profession was. His accent was also bland and unplaceable. At least if
he'd had  a Brummie accent he would have known he came from Birmingham
or the midlands.

    It had been Stan who had christened him 'Adam'. After long days in
his bed  he had  felt stale  and unclean,  and would have killed for a
bath. When  the doctor  arrived to  do his rounds Adam asked him if he
could have  a shower, not a poxy bed bath, something to lift his spir-
its and  make him  feel human  again. To  his surprise  the doctor had
agreed, as  long as  there was a nurse on hand in case he needed help.
Stan had been the nurse.

    There were  a couple  of small  private shower  units just off the
ward bathroom  and Stan  followed as  Adam made  his way  to  one  and
stepped inside.  Adam would have closed the door and left Stan to wait
outside, but Stan held the door open and followed him in.

    "Don't I  get any  privacy?" Adam  asked, as he undid his robe and
slipped it off.

    "Sorry," Stan  shrugged. "Doctor's  orders. Anyway you haven't got
anything I haven't already seen."

    Adam hung  his bathrobe  on a  hook and removed his pyjama jacket,
hanging that  on top of the robe. Feeling more than a little self-con-
scious, Adam untied his pyjama pants and let them fall to the floor so
that he  was naked.  He was  aware of Stan's eyes on him as he bent to
pick up his pyjama pants, and after the initial flush of embarrassment
he was  surprised to  find  being  naked  while  someone  watched  was
strangely exciting.

    He was  quite proud  of his body. He had no idea if he'd ever done
anything to  get in  such good  shape (that part of the past was miss-
ing), but  he certainly  liked the way he looked. Long legs, thick and
muscular at  the thighs,  with pert tight buttocks, tapering to a slim
waist and  flat hard stomach; broad back and powerful shoulders. Maybe
he'd at some time played sport professionally? He didn't know.

    He felt  Stan's eyes  burning into  him as he turned on the shower
and stepped  under the  hot steaming  jet. It  felt so good, the water
running over  his smooth  flawless skin, forming rivers which ran into
the curves  and hollows  of his body and seemed to wash away his prob-
lems. He  felt hot  water trickle  into the  deep cleavage of his but-
tocks, swilling over his anus and then down the inside of his legs.

    He reached for the soap and began to work up a lather. Still aware
of Stan  watching him,  Adam began to rub lather across his chest, ca-
ressing the  hard round pectoral muscles and tweaking his nipples gen-
tly. God  that felt  good! His  hands slid down over his belly, to the
dark curly  bush of pubic hair in his crotch and he buried his fingers
in the  wiry hair,  sliding his  right thumb  around the  shaft of his
large uncut cock and cupping his balls in his palm.

    As he smoothed soap along the length of his flaccid cock, his left
hand moved  around to  his behind, parting his hard buttocks, a finger
probing for  the lips of his anus. Stan shuffled his feet nervously as
he watched  Adam, but Adam was oblivious to him now. His prick was re-
acting instinctively,  swelling up to its full seven inches, the fore-
skin peeling back to reveal the throbbing silky purple head.

    Stan cleared  his throat.  "I'll just nip outside for a smoke," he
said, as he disappeared through the door. "Be back in a minute."

    Adam hardly heard. His finger had now located his anus and was in-
serted up  to the  knuckle, gently  moving in  and out  in time to the
rhythmic wanking  of his  right hand.  It felt  so good,  so alive. He
couldn't remember  ever having  wanked himself  before. Surely he must
have? It  seemed so new and exciting that he was shocked by the feroc-
ity of  his sudden  climax. His  knees buckled  and he arched his back
forward as  he came,  thick milky cum shooting in powerful spurts from
his cock,  splattering on  the tiles  of the  shower floor  and  being
washed away by the cascading water.

    By the  time Stan  reappeared Adam had finished his shower and was
standing in the cubicle towelling off, his body red from the hot water
and the rubbing.

    "So how  do I  look?" he asked, tossing his thick blonde hair back
from his forehead, his blue eyes sparkling.

    "Like Adam  in the  Garden of  Eden," Stan  grinned, admiring  the
young man's naked form.

    And that was how he got his new name. Everyone, doctors and nurses
alike, thought  it seemed somehow appropriate, as though no other name
would have  fitted the  good-looking mystery  man quite  as well. Even
Adam himself took to it, but, after all, he had nothing better.

    Eventually the  day he'd been dreading arrived, and he was uncere-
moniously discharged  from hospital, thrown out into the real world to
stand or  fall on  his own  merits. He'd  drifted around the town aim-
lessly for a while, heading no-where in particular, until he had found
himself in  the park,  sitting here  on the  hard bench  watching  the
ducks.

    "I thought  it was  you," a familiar voice said. He glanced to his
left to  find himself gazing at Stan's smiling face. "What are you do-
ing here? Taken a fancy to ducks, have you?"

    "Where else have I to go?" Adam asked, without self-pity.

    "Still no  lodgings, huh?"  Stan sighed,  seating himself  next to
Adam on  the bench.  "What about that church hostel thing the hospital
social worker told you about?"

    Adam shrugged.  "I don't  know," he  said. "I'd just rather not go
there."

    Stan stood  up. "Then  there's only  one other alternative. You'll
have to kip on my couch for a few nights until you get fixed up."

    "Won't your family mind?"

    Stan shook  his head.  "I live alone. I have a small flat, nothing
fancy, but  big enough for me." He smiled again, and Adam realised for
the first  time what  a pleasing smile Stan had. "You're quite welcome
to the couch, if you want it."

    Adam smiled back. "Thanks."

    Stan's flat  was nicer  than he'd  let on.  The lounge  carpet was
thick and  soft, and  the decor was more tasteful than Adam would have
expected from his new friend. The couch was a large 3-seater job, eas-
ily long enough to accommodate Adam's six foot frame.

    Stan spent  the rest of the afternoon settling his guest in, fuss-
ing over the young guy like a mother hen. His next shift at the hospi-
tal wasn't  until six the next morning, so they had plenty of opportu-
nity to  talk, something  they had never really been able to do on the
ward. Stan  was warm and friendly, and, Adam noticed, quite attractive
in a bland, unexciting kind of way. He had dark curly hair and equally
dark eyes, and his complexion was duskily smooth.

    The day  passed quickly.  In the  evening Stan phoned for a pizza,
which they  put away  along with  a bottle  and a  half of sweet white
wine. Adam  couldn't ever remember having had wine before, but he took
an instant liking to it and downed so much of the stuff that he became
a bit merry.

    "Come on,  mate," Stan  muttered at  just after midnight. "I think
it's time we both turned in. You've only just got out of hospital, and
I have to be up at the crack of dawn."

    He brought  a large  bundle of sheets and a couple of pillows from
the bedroom  and expertly  made up Adam's bed on the couch. "There you
go," he  said. "I've a spare toothbrush in the bathroom, the red one's
mine, so  help yourself."  Adam nodded unsteadily. The wine had really
gone to  his head.  "I'll say goodnight then," Stan said. "If you need
anything, just shout, okay?"

    "Okay," Adam replied, "'night!"

    Stan headed  for the  bedroom, glancing  back just  once to  catch
sight of  Adam wrestling  with one  of his  socks. Then  he closed the
door, undressed  quickly, and  slipped naked into his bed. It was late
and it  had been  a long  day, and to say Stan was tired was an under-
statement. He fell asleep almost the instant his head touched the pil-
low.

    He awoke  again with  a start  after what seemed just seconds. The
luminous clock on the bedside cabinet read 3.35 am. Something had bro-
ken his  sleep, some  kind of  noise loud  enough to disturb him. Stan
threw back  the covers  and clambered  out of bed, creeping across the
room and gingerly opening the door.

    The lounge  was in  darkness save for the shaft of moonlight which
was shining in through the large window. Standing in front of the win-
dow, one  hand resting  on the pane and his head leaned on the back of
his hand,  was Adam.  He was  naked, the moonlight causing his skin to
glow an eerie silver, the deep black of the shadows accentuating every
curve and  hollow of his muscular torso. He looked the epitome of sor-
row.

    Stan opened the door wider and quietly crossed the lounge to where
his friend  was standing. He placed his right hand on Adam's shoulder.
"What's wrong?" he asked tenderly.

    Without looking up Adam spoke. "I just feel so lonely," he said.

    Stan squeezed  his shoulder  in a gesture of affection. "You don't
have to be lonely," he said. "I'm here."

    Adam looked up, and in the moonlight Stan thought he saw the glint
of an  odd tear.  "Hold me," Adam said, turning towards Stan and slip-
ping his strong arms around Stan's waist.

    It was  at that  moment that  Stan became aware of his own nudity.
Their bodies  touched, Adam's  large muscular  thigh brushing  against
Stan's leg.  Like a child, Adam laid his head on Stan's shoulder, nuz-
zling his  face against  the nurse's  neck. His  breath was  warm  and
moist.

    Stan pulled him closer, until their stomachs lay flat together. He
could feel  Adam's hard  nipples against  his chest,  and lower,  much
lower, he  could feel the hot softness of Adam's large and magnificent
cock pressing into his own pubic bush. As he held the guy, he wondered
if Adam  even knew or cared that he was getting an erection, his prick
throbbing and pushing against the soft fluttery skin of Adam's belly.

    Stan let his hand slide slowly down Adam's back, his fingers glid-
ing over  the smooth  flesh. His  first finger traced a line along the
furrow caused  by Adam's  spine, and  Adam flinched  just a shade, his
hips jutting forward so that their cocks rubbed together. Stan allowed
his hand  to continue  on its  downward path  until it  came  to  rest
lightly on Adam's tight hard buttocks.

    Pressed together,  Stan could  feel that Adam was beginning to re-
spond. The  huge prick  was growing bigger, swelling to its full size,
throbbing against  Stan's thigh.  Encouraged, Stan  slid his hand into
the cleavage  of Adam's  buttocks, his  fingers exploring,  searching,
then finding  the rough  tight lips  of Adam's  anus, which he stroked
lovingly. For  Adam it  was an  experience he had never known the like
of. The warmth of another human body next to his, the pure pleasure of
being touched  as intimately  as Stan was touching him at that moment.
Somewhere, deep  in his mind, he was vaguely aware that what they were
doing was  "not right"  to the  majority of people, but frankly he did
not give a fuck.

    Stan was  caressing his buttocks, taking care to rub his anus gen-
tly. Adam's  prick was  now fully erect, as was his lover's, two thick
hard rods rubbing against each other. Adam felt Stan let go of his em-
brace slightly,  then felt  the warm  wetness of  Stan's mouth  on his
smooth, hairless chest, licking the nipples, nipping them lightly with
his teeth.  Stan's tongue  traced a silvery line of saliva down Adam's
body, taking  a slight  pause while  he licked  at the  hollow of  his
navel, then  continuing on it's path towards the most sensitive of re-
gions. Adam gasped as Stan kissed the tip of his dick, then closed his
eyes and allowed the sensations to flow over him as Stan took his full
seven inches into his mouth.

    He was  a master of cock-sucking, his tongue working marvels which
drove Adam  into fits  of ecstasy.  Stan ran his hot tongue around the
swollen silky  glans, curling it behind the fleshed back rim of Adam's
foreskin, exploring the dark little piss-hole which was already drool-
ing salty pre-cum which mingled with Stan's saliva. Stan took the hard
cock deep  into his throat, pulling on Adam's buttocks and pushing his
face deep  into the boy's pubic hair. The wrinkled sac of Adam's scro-
tum nestled  in the  cleft of  Stan's chin,  and he  became aware of a
change in it's form, a tightening, the flesh drawing in to enclose the
large heavy balls, and he knew Adam's climax was near.

    Stan worked  harder, drawing  the long  shaft of his lover's prick
almost out  of his  mouth completely, then closing down on it quickly,
tickling the  thick veined  underside with his tongue. The boy was now
breathing heavily,  almost gasping, until, with a groan that the whole
town must  have heard, Adam came. Spunk, thick and warm and salty, be-
gan to spurt from the head of his dick, filling Stan's mouth and slid-
ing down the back of his throat in a river of cum. Adam grabbed Stan's
hair and  rammed his  cock into  his mouth  with force, almost causing
Stan to  gag and  choke. And then the climax was over. Adam dropped to
his knees  in front  of Stan,  exhausted, shattered  by what had taken
place. He  sagged forward,  into Stan's arms. Stan's erection stood up
almost vertically from the forest of curls at his crotch.

    "Why did  you do  that?" Adam gasped, genuinely shocked by the fe-
rocity of their passion.

    Stan smiled. "Because I wanted to. I've wanted to make love to you
ever since  that day  in the  shower." Stan  leaned forward and kissed
Adam on  the lips.  He was pleased to feel the pressure as Adam kissed
back. "Stay  here with  me," Stan  said. "Let  me take care of you, at
least for a while."

    Adam smiled.  "At least  for tonight,"  he said, slipping his hand
between Stan's  hairy thighs  and caressing his erect prick. "What you
just did was incredible... I don't think anyone's ever done that to me
before. I can't remember, anyway, so I guess it's the same thing."

    He began  to pull slowly on Stan's cock, teasing the foreskin back
over the  wet head then allowing it to retract again. "Don't be angry,
but I  don't know  if I could do the same to you... not yet, at least,
but maybe soon..."

    Stan smiled. "That's okay," he said, closing his eyes and enjoying
the feel of Adam's strong grip as he wanked him slowly. "Just keep do-
ing what you're doing and I'll be happy enough."

    Stan didn't  take long  to come.  Like Adam he was highly excited,
and it  was mere  moments before  his cock  exploded in  a fountain of
spunk, covering  Adam's hand  and dripping  in thick  goblets onto the
carpet. Then  they lay  together, in each other's arms on the couch in
the moonlight.

    "Stay with  me," Stan  repeated. "Stay  here forever. Put the past
behind you. We can be happy, I know it."

    Adam sighed.  "I'll stay for a while, but I have to know who I am,
where I  come from."  He kissed  Stan tenderly. "I'll stay until I can
please you just like you've pleased me, but then I have to go."

    Stan remained silent. Eventually they slept, and before long morn-
ing had  come with  a vengeance. Stan left Adam asleep on the couch as
he washed,  dressed and got his things together ready for his shift at
the hospital.  Taking one  last lingering look at the blonde Adonis on
the couch, he let himself out of the flat and went to work.

    Two hours  later Adam  sat at the kitchen table, a blanket wrapped
round him,  and studied  the contents  of the  battered leather wallet
which belonged  to him.  Eleven pounds and seventy-three pence, a dog-
eared bus ticket, and a crumpled piece of paper on which was written a
number... a phone number! Adam's heart leaped.

    Why hadn't the police or hospital staff noticed this? It seemed so
obvious. He  picked up  the paper  and walked  across to Stan's phone,
lifted the receiver and dialled the number. Nothing. Only the constant
tone that told him the number was unobtainable.

    Replacing the  receiver, he  picked up  the  telephone  directory,
turned to  the front  and started  searching. After  a few  seconds he
found it... 091, the area code for Newcastle-Upon-Tyne. At last he had
a starting point. It was not much to work from, but it was a start!

    He sat for a long time, staring at the phone number, wondering and
fantasizing about  it. He  did some  serious thinking that day, and he
made up his mind. He would stay with Stan for as long as he had agreed
to, but  no longer. He had to find out the truth about himself, he had
to. He really had no alternative.


Chapter 2
---------
    Adam awoke  suddenly from a dreamless sleep. The room was in dark-
ness and  a total,  overwhelming silence  which was broken only by the
distant rumble  of traffic on the ring-road a few streets away. He lay
there for  a while, eyes closed, listening to the night sounds and the
deep rhythmic breathing of the man next to him.

    At some point in the night Stan had rolled over and was now facing
away from him. Adam snuggled close to his sleeping lover, slipping his
arm round  Stan's waist  and pressing  himself up tight against Stan's
back. He  could feel the smooth warmth of Stan's bare skin against his
chest and  stomach, and  the clammy  warmth of Stan's buttocks against
his already  erect penis.  Adam adjusted his position slightly so that
his cock  was nestled  in the cleavage of Stan's arse. God, it felt so
good! Stan  had taught him a lot in the two and a half weeks he'd been
staying with  him, and  had shown  him just  how pleasant it was to be
close to someone, both in a physical and an emotional sense.

    Adam ran  his hand lightly over Stan's stomach, and playfully fin-
gered his navel. Stan was quite hairy, almost the complete opposite of
Adam. His  legs and  belly were covered by a liberal mat of dark hair,
although his chest was bare save for around the nipples. Adam had very
little hair  on his muscular frame. His pubic bush was quite thick and
the hair in his armpits, but apart from that his body was smooth, with
just the  finest down  covering his long legs. Stan had once commented
that Adam  had the  body of  a teenage  athlete, hard and muscular yet
supple and  youthful. It was difficult to put an age to him. Stan, who
was almost 32, said he would estimate Adam's age at between 18 and 22,
but there was no way of telling.

    Nuzzling his face against the back of Stan's neck, Adam kissed his
shoulder. He  moved his  hand lower over Stan's stomach, down into his
crotch. Taking  Stan's limp cock in his hand, Adam caressed it gently,
peeling back  the ample foreskin and rubbing the head between his fin-
ger and thumb. Stan moaned in his sleep.

    Adam smiled  to himself as he felt Stan's cock react to the stimu-
lation, the  shaft swelling and growing, blood flowing rapidly, stiff-
ening it  to its full six and a half inches. Stan moaned again, drift-
ing slowly towards full consciousness as Adam played lovingly with his
dick.

    Stan rolled  onto his  back, and  as he  did Adam  threw back  the
sheets, leaving  them both naked in the darkness. Adam knelt at Stan's
side and lowered his head to Stan's groin. He couldn't see his lover's
prick in  the dark  of the  bedroom, but  he could  feel the  radiated
warmth of  Stan's crotch  on his face and smell the heady, musky aroma
of his erection. Adam opened his lips, stuck out his tongue and licked
the bulbous  head of  Stan's penis.  Since the first night he'd stayed
with Stan, the night when Stan had blown his mind by blowing his cock,
Adam had  developed a liking for the taste of cock, for the feel of it
in his  mouth, and the strong smell of maleness you got when your face
was pressed into someone's pubic bush.

    Adam ran  his tongue  along the  thick vein  on the  underside  of
Stan's tool,  down as  far as  his balls and then back up to the silky
glans. As he did, he slid his hand between Stan's thighs and under his
buttocks, feeling for Stan's anus and slipping his finger in as far as
the knuckle. Stan moaned as Adam finger fucked him, in and out, deeper
and deeper.  Adam opened  his mouth  and took Stan's prick between his
lips, tasting  the salty dew of pre-cum which glistened at the tip. He
drew his  mouth along  the length  of Stan's cock, his tongue brushing
the shaft  as Stan  arched his  back off  the bed and thrust his organ
deeper in Adam's mouth.

    As he  ate Stan's  cock, Adam  reached down  between his own legs,
grasping his already wet penis and wanking himself quickly. He knew he
was near  to climax.  Releasing Stan's cock from his mouth, Adam swung
around, gently  took hold  of Stan's  head and  pressed his prick onto
Stan's lips.  Stan opened  his mouth,  but wasn't quite in time. Thick
milky spunk spurted from Adam's swollen dick onto Stan's face, running
over his  lips and  dribbling down his chin. Stan's tongue flicked out
as he  tried to  lick a  few tasty  gobbets of  cum from his lips, but
Adam's thrusting cock was in full spout, jet after jet of semen shoot-
ing into  his face.  Stan had  never known any guy cum as much as Adam
did. Eventually  his orgasm  subsided, and  he eased back, putting his
face next to Stan's and licking his own cum off.

    When Adam  had cleared away the last drop of his spunk from Stan's
chin he  resumed his  original position  and once  more gobbled Stan's
cock, quicker  this time, with added urgency. His own cock was wilting
quickly, and he was eager to snuggle up next to Stan in that warm won-
derful feeling which follows a good fuck. He sucked on the thick prick
in his  mouth, willing it to shoot. And within moments it did, pumping
spunk down  the back  of Adam's  throat in  one powerful constant jet.
Adam swallowed  the cum, savouring the saltiness of it, sucking Stan's
cock until every drop was extracted.

    Later they  lay in  each other's  arms, Stan  in a doze while Adam
stared up  at the ceiling. The bedroom was getting lighter as dawn ap-
proached, and he knew that soon Stan would get up and dressed and head
off to  the hospital.  That was when he would make his move. It wasn't
going to  be easy to leave Stan, in fact it would be hard to leave the
loving safety  he'd known  for the last couple of weeks, but he had to
do it. He'd never rest until he found out the truth about himself, and
he couldn't do that stuck here in Brighton. He had to go to Newcastle-
Upon-Tyne. The  phone number written on the crumpled piece of paper in
his wallet  must have meant something at some time; it was just a case
of finding out what.

    By 10.00  am Adam  was standing  at the  side of the A23 holding a
piece of  card on  which he'd written "London" in thick black letters.
He had  no alternative but to hitch-hike. With <20>11.73 in his pocket he
had to  save money  wherever he  could. No doubt Stan would have given
him some  cash if he'd asked, but pride wouldn't allow him to. And be-
sides, he knew that leaving would have been so much harder if Stan had
been home.  That was  why he'd  waited until  Stan was  at work before
sneaking out. He'd left him a letter on the kitchen table, in which he
tried to  explain everything,  how he felt and why he'd decided to go,
but even so he knew Stan would be a little hurt.

    Adam was  still thinking about Stan when a large articulated lorry
squealed to  a halt a couple of hundred yards from where he was stand-
ing. Picking  up the  ruck-sack containing his few meagre possessions,
Adam walked down to where the truck waited, engine throbbing, the pas-
senger door slightly ajar.

    "Going anywhere near London?" he asked the driver as he bobbed his
head inside the cab.

    The guy  behind the  wheel was  about 40, a large fellow, slightly
over-weight but  not grossly fat. His hair was in dire need of cutting
and hung in greasy strands over his forehead.

    "Sure, son," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "Hop in. I'll take
you all the way."

    There was  something about the guy which made Adam nervous, but he
was desperate  for the  ride so, pushing his doubts to the back of his
mind, he  clambered into the cab and pulled the door closed. The truck
began to  move almost before he was in, as though the driver feared he
might change his mind.

    "My name's Billy," the driver said. "What's yours?"

    "Adam," Adam replied.

    The guy  was wearing  jeans and  a dirty  white T-shirt,  and Adam
couldn't help  noticing that  Billy's fly was undone. "Fuckin' hot to-
day, ain't it?" Billy muttered, scratching his crotch absent-mindedly.

    Adam grunted  and half-smiled.  He didn't like the guy, but didn't
want to lose his lift, so he decided to play it cool and keep the con-
versation down  if at  all possible. They rode on for the best part of
half an  hour, Billy  chattering away,  almost every  other word being
"fuck" or  some derivation.  Adam kept quiet and just smiled occasion-
ally.

    At a  point in the road just before the A23 grew up and became the
M23, Billy  spun the wheel and turned the truck into a lay-by, cutting
the engine and turning towards his passenger.

    "Well?" he asked.

    Adam frowned. "Well, what?"

    Billy looked  annoyed. "Well, aren't you gonna pay for the fuckin'
ride?"

    "I'm sorry,"  Adam shrugged,  "but I've no money. That's why I was
hitching in the first place."

    "Fuckin' 'ell," Billy spat. "I don't want fuckin' money, arsehole.
I meant pay for the ride the usual fuckin' way"

    "What way's  that?" Adam  asked, although  he already  had a  good
idea.

    Billy shot him a look which plainly showed he thought Adam was de-
liberately stalling,  then, without  a word,  he slid  his hand across
Adam's muscular  thigh and  squeezed the  bulge in  his crotch. "Feels
good," Billy said, grinning. "Got a big dick, have you?"

    Adam attempted  a smile, but failed. "I never had any complaints,"
he muttered,  trying to  keep his voice steady. Billy removed his hand
from Adam's crotch and leered knowingly.

    "Why don't  we get  up in the sleeping quarters back there?" Billy
said, with  a nod  to indicate  a section  of the cab behind the seats
which was  separated by a curtain. "You can show me what a big boy you
are, and  then we  can work  out how you're going to pay me for giving
you a lift."

    Adam looked  at Billy carefully. He was hardly Tom Cruise, in fact
he looked  more like Danny de Vito, except that he must have been well
over six  foot tall and probably weighed in at around 16 stone. Had he
any choice  in the matter Adam would never have chosen Billy as a sex-
ual partner,  but the  way things were shaping up Adam didn't have any
choice.

    "Okay," Adam  said, attempting to feign innocence. "As long as you
understand that I've never done anything like this before."

    Billy's grin widened, which made Adam's stomach churn for some in-
explicable reason.  "That's okay be me," he said. "A nice fuckin' vir-
gin lad. Ain't that a fuckin' treat?"

    Billy cut the engine and parted the curtains behind the seats. The
sleeping quarters were just as Adam would have imagined them: one long
bunk spread  on which  were sheets  that had  turned cream with age, a
couple of  pillows, and  a tiny unit on which Billy had placed a tran-
sistor radio  and a  couple of  small plastic boxes containing various
sorts of food.

    But it  was the walls of the cab which surprised Adam most. He as-
sumed that  most macho  lorry drivers  would have  a few lurid pin-ups
around for  the purpose  of masturbatory aids on long nights away from
home, but  Billy's cab was literally plastered from wall to wall. Full
frontals of  busty girls, some blonde, some brunette, a few with flam-
ing red  hair, some  acting coy,  some brazenly  fingering themselves,
large tits, small tits, and every size in between.

    Strange, Adam  thought, as  he scrambled  up onto  the  bunk.  Why
should Billy choose to cover his walls with female nudes, and yet pick
up guys on the road for sex? To keep up the macho image, perhaps?

    Billy followed Adam into the sleeping quarters and pulled the cur-
tains closed  behind him.  Adam noticed  that he was already getting a
hard-on; his  cock was  pushing against  his underpants  which in turn
were bulging  out through  his open  fly, making  him look ludicrously
like a deformed rhinoceros. Adam resisted the temptation to laugh.

    "I must  say I  do like the fuckin' way you fill out those jeans,"
Billy said,  sitting on the edge of the bunk and running his hand over
Adam's thigh.  His other hand was playing with the "rhino horn" in his
crotch. Adam  lay on  his back,  arms at his side, feeling a bit silly
and wondering what he should do.

    "Let's see what you've got in there," Billy muttered, reaching for
the zip on Adam's jeans and tugging it roughly.

    Adam's jeans were tight, making it a little difficult for Billy to
open them  as quickly  as he  would have  liked, but  after a  certain
amount of  fumbling and quite a lot of cursing, he managed to peel the
denims down  Adam's muscular  thighs, quickly  followed by  the  small
white cotton  briefs Stan  had bought  for him one day while they were
shopping.

    Adam lay there motionless, his jeans down around his knees and his
T-shirt shoved  up around  his chest,  while Billy ogled his genitals.
"Oh, fuckin'  'ell, son," he muttered, gazing in wonder at Adam's limp
uncut cock. "That's fuckin' lovely."

    Billy reached out and grasped Adam's thick warm prick, peeling the
foreskin back  to reveal  the silky pink head. Billy squeezed his fist
around the  limp shaft, causing Adam to grimace and gasp with pain. As
though spurred  on by  the expression  of hurt  on Adam's face, he re-
leased the  boy's penis  and slid  his hand  down around  his scrotum,
feeling Adam's  large heavy  balls through  the wrinkly  skin with his
finger and thumb.

    "Bet them  balls hold  a lot  of fuckin'  spunk, eh?"  he  grinned
sleazily. Then,  without warning,  he squeezed  Adam's  left  testicle
hard.

    Adam cried  out with pain and shock. "Shit! What're you doing?" he
gasped.

    "Don't be such a fuckin' baby," Billy spat with disgust. "I didn't
hurt you that much!"

    Adam was  angry. "Oh,  no?" he said, starting to get up. "Well you
aren't going to get a second chance. I'm not into that kind of stuff."

    He bent  forward to  pull up  his jeans, taking his eyes off Billy
for just the briefest moment. And at that precise moment Billy let fly
with a  right hook with caught Adam square on the chin and knocked him
back onto the bunk. Then he slammed his massive fist into Adam's face,
bursting his lip and loosening a tooth. Dazed, Adam sank onto his back
again, tasting blood in his mouth, his mind swimming.

    "No little  fucker is  gonna get  away without  payin' his  dues,"
Billy said,  grabbing Adam  roughly and pulling him half off the bunk.
He was amazingly strong.

    Adam felt  himself being half-lifted, half-turned until he was ly-
ing on  his stomach  on the bunk, his legs hanging off the end and his
bare behind up in the air. He knew what was happening, and in his daze
tried to  get up  again. Billy  grabbed a  handful of blonde hair, and
smashed Adam's head into the metal wall at the back of the bunk.

    Billy pinned  Adam down, holding his arms by the wrists behind his
back so  that he couldn't move, and, with his free hand, he unfastened
his own  jeans and pushed them down. His dirty white underpants bulged
obscenely, and it was perhaps a good thing that Adam couldn't see what
he was  about to feel. Like the rest of him, Billy's cock was massive,
fully eight  inches when  erect, as  it was  as he pushed his Y-fronts
down and  released it  from it's  restriction. He stroked it lovingly,
nuzzling the  fat dick-head  up against  the warm  cleavage of  Adam's
arse.

    When he'd been staying with Stan they'd talked about anal sex, but
Adam hadn't  been quite  ready.  His  sexual  awareness  was  building
slowly, and  they'd spent  their time  making love orally. Billy obvi-
ously was  not prepared  for anything  but a good hard fuck, and as he
held the  boy down  he thrust  with his hips, Adam's anus resisting at
first, then  yielding to the terrific pressure from Billy's huge dick.
The anus lips gave way and Billy's swollen cock slipped in a fraction.
Adam let out a cry of pain and gritted his teeth. Undaunted, the lorry
driver thrust  again, slamming  his cock  deeper, then  again,  deeper
still. Adam  felt like  his arse  was on  fire. Hot  burning pain shot
through his guts and made the pain from his busted lip seem insignifi-
cant.

    Billy's cock  filled Adam, and under different circumstances could
have been  quite pleasant.  But Billy  was vicious in his love-making,
ramming his  prick up the boy without heed to the pain he was causing,
intent only  on his  own gratification.  He thrust  and  thrust,  cock
throbbing and eager, his fat hairy balls crashing against Adam's upper
thighs. How long it went on Adam was unaware. Mercifully his mind shut
off, leaving Billy to grunt and thrust to his heart's content.

    When Billy  came it was explosive. His cock burst inside Adam in a
fountain of  cum, thick  and milky  and hot,  and as he climaxed Billy
slapped Adam's  buttocks like  a rider would to a horse. Still he con-
tinued the fuck Adam, even as his dick started to wilt and soften, un-
til, at last, he could no longer keep it in and had to withdraw.

    "Now get yourself together and fuck off outta my cab!" he shouted,
pulling up  his jeans  and dirty underpants. Adam was only barely con-
scious.

    "I said  fuck off  outta my  cab," Billy repeated when Adam didn't
move.

    Roughly, he grabbed at Adam's jeans and briefs and yanked them up,
not bothering  to fasten them. Then he man-handled him to the front of
the cab,  opened the passenger door and pushed the dazed kid out. Adam
let with a sickening thud on the asphalt of the lay-by.

    Adam lay  there for  a while,  eyes closed  and head  spinning. He
heard the sound of the lorry's engine starting up, then got a blast of
fumes as  Billy pulled  back into  the stream  of traffic on the road.
Aware of his condition, Adam somehow fought to stand up and managed to
stagger to  the shelter of the trees at the roadside, his ruck-sack in
hand. The shade of the trees was cool in the hot midday June sun. Adam
collapsed in  a heap  at the foot of a large oak, and at last his mind
gave up the ghost. He drifted off into unconsciousness...

    Greg watched  the birds flutter and flap as he approached, tractor
engine chugging  away as  he turned  the soil in the big field. To his
left the  A23 ran  like a  sleek black river, just visible through the
thick tangle of trees and bushes.

    Several times  as he  ploughed back  and forth  he thought  he saw
something white  in the greenery, but just as quickly it was hidden by
the foliage  again so he shrugged it off. But the closer he got to the
road, the  more he  was convinced there was something... or someone...
in the bushes.

    "Probably that tramp," he muttered. "Dirty old bugger!"

    As he  passed, he  stopped the tractor, put the gears into neutral
and climbed  down. The bushes were thick, but he was certain there was
someone there. He could definitely see something white, some clothing,
but whoever  was wearing  it seemed  to be  lying down. It must be the
tramp.

    "Come outta there," he called from a safe distance. "I know you're
hiding."

    No reply.  "Come on,  I ain't  got all day to mess around with the
likes of  you," he  yelled, glancing  at his watch. It was late after-
noon, and  already the sun had begun to dip down in the deep cloudless
blue of  the western  sky. When  no response  came Greg gingerly edged
forward, picking  up a length of branch which had broken off and using
it to  part the  bushes. The  contrast between the bright sunlight and
the dim shade made it hard for Greg to see, but he could just make out
a vague  figure lying  face down on the ground. The guy wasn't moving,
and, judging  from the  whiteness of  the T-shirt, it certainly wasn't
Old Alf, the tramp.

    "Hello?" Greg  asked, not  really expecting  a reply. "Are you al-
right?"

    Still no  answer. Casting  caution to  the wind, Greg stepped for-
ward, pushing  the bushes  aside with his body, and clambered into the
shadows. The figure was a young guy, tall and blonde, and from the way
he was lying Greg could just see his handsome face. There was blood on
his mouth  and chin,  and angry red bruises on his cheek and forehead.
The guy had obviously been beaten up.

    Greg knelt  down beside  the prone  body, and as he did he noticed
for the first time that the boy's jeans were open. With a flush of ex-
citement (which  made him feel slightly guilty because of the state of
the guy)  he saw  that the  denim was loose and baggy across the boy's
behind which  was only covered by a skimpy pair of white briefs empha-
sising the  upper half  of his  firm round buttocks. Greg tried not to
think about that.

    Gently he  turned the  boy over onto his back, once again glancing
down towards  the lower  half of  his torso. The boy's fly gaped wide,
and as  he peered Greg could just make out the thick tufts of wiry pu-
bic hair  inside. Feeling  like a  voyeur, and embarrassed in case the
boy woke up, Greg quickly zipped up the young man's fly and lifted him
into a sitting position, supported against Greg's body.

    The boy's  eyes opened,  startlingly blue and clear. "Where am I?"
he asked. "Who are you?"

    "I found  you here in the bushes," Greg said, genuinely concerned.
"Did someone beat you up?"

    Suddenly it came back to Adam: the lift with the lorry driver, the
assault, the  feeling of  helplessness and fear. He made an attempt to
stand up  and almost  collapsed. "I've  got to  go," he  said, tasting
blood in his mouth. "I've got to find somewhere to clean up."

    "You're in  no fit  state to  go anywhere  on your own like that,"
Greg said,  catching him  as he  swayed. "I know a place where you can
rest and wash up. It ain't much, but it's quiet and you can stay until
you feel better."

    Greg helped  the boy  towards the tractor in the field, its engine
still ticking over noisily. "My name's Greg by the way, what's yours?"
    "My name's Adam."

    Twenty minutes later Greg stopped the tractor outside a large ram-
bling wooden  building. It  looked like  an over-sized  shed, and Adam
knew instinctively that it certainly wasn't used on a daily basis, the
slightly run-down appearance and missing boards told him that much.

    "What is this place?" he asked as Greg helped him down.

    "It used  to be  where the farmer stored the grain and animal feed
over winter,"  Greg muttered,  pushing open a creaky wooden door. "But
now he's  got a new one nearer the farm-house, so it don't get used at
all now.  But it's  dry, and  there's water  from a  stand-pipe, so  I
reckon it'd  do for  you to  rest up  a bit until you feel like moving
on." They  stepped through  the door into a small 'hut' built onto the
side of  the huge  building. Surprisingly,  it wasn't  as dirty or de-
crepit as  Adam expected. There was a stand-pipe in one corner with an
empty aluminium  bucket beneath  it, several  cupboards which reminded
Adam of  a garden shed, a few big brown jackets hanging up which, pre-
sumably, the  workers wore, and in the far corner Adam noticed a small
fold-away bed.

    "Sit down on the bed," Greg said, nodding towards the corner.

    Adam shook  his head.  "Not until  I've cleaned  up a bit." He re-
garded Greg shrewdly. "Did you fasten my jeans?"

    Greg blushed slightly. "Er.. yes."

    Adam lowered  his eyes. "Thanks," he said, lamely. There was a mo-
ment of  mutual embarrassment  as they  regarded each other carefully,
Adam wondering just how much Greg had seen and Greg wondering how much
Adam had suffered.

    After a  moment Greg  looked out  through the dirty windows of the
hut at  the lowering  sun. "I  have to  get back with the tractor," he
said. "Stay  here for a while. I'll come back later with some food and
we can talk. There's a couple of clean cloths you can use as towels if
you want to wash."

    "Okay," Adam said, as Greg disappeared out of the door.

    Outside, Greg  was just about to climb up onto the tractor when he
realised he  hadn't mentioned  the oil  lamp to Adam. It might well be
after sunset  when he  returned, and  he didn't  want to leave the guy
sitting in the dark when there was adequate lighting.

    Turning back,  he threw  open the  door of the hut and took a step
inside. Adam  was just  stepping out of his jeans, the white cotton of
his briefs  stretched tight  across his  perfect buttocks.  He  looked
round as Greg re-entered, but he made no attempt to cover himself.

    "I just wanted to say that there's an oil lamp and some matches in
that first  cupboard there," he said, pointing. "It might be dark when
I get back."

    "Right," Adam smiled. "Thanks."

    Greg closed  the door,  pausing for  just a  moment  then  peeking
through the murky glass of the hut's small window. As he watched, Adam
slipped his  briefs down his muscular legs, exposing his behind in all
its magnificent  glory. Greg's heart thumped in his chest, and between
his legs  he felt  the familiar  twitching of  his cock.  Rubbing  his
crotch gently, Greg clambered back up on the tractor and drove off.

    He returned  at eight-thirty  that night. The sun was just dipping
over the  far horizon, turning the sky a deep purple red. As he walked
he thought  about the sight of Adam, half-naked through the hut's win-
dow. If he was lucky....

    As he  opened the  door Adam was seated on the fold-away bed, legs
crossed at  the ankles  as he leaned back against the wall. Out of the
corner of his eye Greg noticed a pair of briefs, still wet, hanging on
one of the coat-hooks.

    "Hi," he  said, handing  Adam a  plastic container. "I brought you
some food."

    Adam took  it gratefully,  wolfing down  the sandwiches and apples
the container held. As Adam ate they chatted, or at least Greg chatted
and Adam  listened. It  seemed to  Adam that  Greg knew just what he'd
been through,  almost as if there was some kind of telepathic link be-
tween them.  As though Greg had been waiting for a long time for some-
one like Adam.

    "You know,"  Adam said,  finishing off  his apple. " I wasn't just
beaten up."

    Greg looked  down at  the floor.  "I'd assumed more than that hap-
pened because of the way your jeans were unfastened."

    Adam started to talk, and this time it was Greg who stayed silent.
Adam told him everything, from the early days in hospital, about Stan,
and about  the assault.  Greg looked  at him with soft brown eyes, his
innocent young face filled with sympathy, and Adam knew they were kin-
dred spirits.

    "I used  to have a friend like Stan," Greg said, brushing his long
curly dark  hair back  from his forehead. "But he moved overseas, Ger-
many I think."

    "Stan was good to me," Adam murmured, absent-mindedly stroking his
own leg. "So gentle."

    "You know,  it doesn't have to hurt," Greg said, smiling tenderly.
"It can be quite exciting."

    Adam gazed into his eyes. "Show me."

    Greg stood  up and with one swift fluid movement raised his sweat-
shirt up  over his head and off. In the rapidly fading light, Adam saw
that Greg's body was as smooth and hairless as his own, his large pink
nipples standing  out erect  from his unblemished chest. Quickly, Greg
kicked off his sneakers and peeled the zip of his jeans down, hesitat-
ing for  just a  moment before  pushing his baggy pale blue jeans down
around his  ankles to  reveal a  small pair  of light blue pants whose
pouch strained  to contain  his throbbing  manhood and  Adam smelt the
musky man-smell  he had  savoured so  much from  Stan. He  peeled them
slowly down,  stepped out  of them,  and stood  before Adam naked. His
large semi  erect cock  standing out from his crotch obscenely. Naked,
he looked younger than his years.

    Adam began  to undress,  removing his T-shirt as Greg stepped for-
ward and  put his  hands on  Adam's thighs.  The denim of Adam's jeans
stretched tight  across his  powerful legs,  and Greg  moved his hands
slowly upwards,  to his crotch, as he felt for the zipper and eased it
down, releasing  Adam's already  swelling penis.  He pulled  at Adam's
jeans, drawing  them down  his legs  and off over his bare feet. Then,
casting them  to one side, Greg dropped to his knees in front of where
Adam sat  on the camp bed and lowered his lips to Adam's stomach. Greg
kissed the  soft, ticklish  flesh of  his underbelly, then, surprising
Adam, he  brought his mouth upwards towards Adam's chest, his warm wet
tongue eager  to search  out Adam's nipples, finding them, licking and
teasing them.

    Adam stroked Greg's hair, raising the boy's head up so their faces
were level enough to kiss. Adam pulled Greg to him, pressing his mouth
against Greg's  soft full  lips. Their tongues danced together wildly,
saliva mingling,  and as  they kissed  Adam ran  his hand  down Greg's
chest and  belly and  into his  groin. He grasped his cock, pulling on
the thick hard shaft as he pressed his lips harder against Greg's.

    Encouraging Greg  to stand up, Adam ran his tongue down the length
of Greg's  young body, down into the thick forest of curls between his
legs, licking  at the  long warm  shaft of  Greg's prick,  tasting the
juices that  oozed wetly  at the  tip. He parted his lips and took the
whole of Greg's erection in his mouth, stroking its underside with his
tongue, smelling the muskiness of the boy's crotch.

    Greg placed  his hands  against Adam's  head and,  easing his hips
back and  forth, began  to slide  his dick in and out of Adam's mouth,
fucking his  face eagerly.  Adam relished  the taste  of the  hot hard
cock, the  faint aroma  of urine,  the saltiness  of pre-cum.  He  had
learned from his experiences with Stan that he had only one preference
sexually; the warm body of another male next to his.

    Drawing his  prick out  of Adam's  mouth, Greg eased him back onto
the bed,  and kneeling  between his  legs, lowered  his face to Adam's
crotch. He licked at Adam's dick, wetting the thick hard shaft, paying
particular attention to the silky cock-head. Saliva ran down the shaft
into Adam's pubic bush.

    Straddling Adam,  Greg held  Adam's dick vertical so that the head
was nuzzled  against the  lips of  his anus, and, closing his eyes, he
gently lowered  his body, impaling himself on Adam's massive organ. He
felt the swollen head penetrate him, then a little of the thick shaft,
then more.  The feeling  of being  filled, like  wanting to  go to the
bathroom yet  somehow excitingly  different, overcame him. He was full
of Adam's cock... they were united.

    He began to ride him like a horse, up and down, harder and harder,
his bare  buttocks crashing  against Adam's hips as he bounced around.
Adam groaned  out loud, gasping with unknown pleasure at the sensation
of Greg's  tight arsehole  around his  tool. Greg's  dick swung around
crazily as  they fucked,  and Adam  grabbed it, pulling the shaft hard
which was  wet with  pre-cum, wanking  it as  Greg blindly rose up and
down on his cock.

    They came  at almost  the same second, Greg's dick spewing a thick
jet of  warm spunk  onto Adam's  belly as  Adam's cock  erupted inside
Greg's anus, each of them wild with passion, dicks spurting, cum pump-
ing out  endlessly. When  their orgasms  faded, Greg climbed off Adam,
and sank next to him on the camp bed. They kissed, then slept awhile.

    They made love again later, by the glow of the oil lamp, two naked
young lovers  unashamed of  their sexuality.  At a  little before mid-
night, Greg got up and pulled on his clothes, Adam watching sadly.

    "Do you have to go?" he asked. "Can't you stay all night?"

    Greg smiled and stuck his head into his sweatshirt. "I told you, I
live with my parents. They'd be worried if I didn't go home."

    "Will I see you tomorrow?"

    Greg shrugged.  "I can only come round after work, say about seven
o'clock."

    Adam shook  his head.  "I have to get to Newcastle," he said. "I'm
gonna have  to make  an early  start, so I'll most likely be gone when
you finish work."

    Greg leaned  forward and kissed him. "Then I'll say 'bye now. Take
care." Adam  watched him  slip out  of the  door, pausing  a second to
glance back just for a moment. Then he was gone.

    Adam spent  the night sleeping fitfully, dreaming bad dreams about
rape and  pain and  violence. When the morning came he dressed quickly
and left,  making his  way through the fields quickly until at last he
reached the A23.

    It wasn't  long before  a car  stopped, a large blue Granada which
screeched to  a halt  a little  along the  road from  him. At first he
wasn't sure  he was  being picked up, but when the passenger door flew
open he  knew he'd  struck lucky.  He ran  down the  hard shoulder and
leaped into the plush interior.

    The driver  was about  45, but  youngish looking  with silver-grey
hair and  a warm  smile, and  suddenly Adam knew he was going to enjoy
this lift...