Kenny : Part Two

Kenny stared at me.
“Desi, that’s so nice of you,” he murmured. “But what about the photographs?”
“We’ll go out after dinner to a photo booth and take some,” I explained. “Then I’ll post everything tomorrow.”

Kenny dropped the papers on the coffee table and reached round to hug me hard.
“You do so much for me,” he murmured.
“Well, there’s a bit more,” I said. “I expect it will take about three weeks or so for those forms to be processed, so if you can survive the boredom until then, I’ve booked you a series of driving lessons which should start just when they send you your provisional licence.”

Kenny’s mouth gaped open.
“You’ve booked driving lessons as well?” he repeated.
“I have. Two hours a day, five days, for three weeks. That should be enough for you to take the driving tests. If you need more, okay, I’ll book them for you. Now you’ll have something to do every day, at least for a while.”

Kenny looked confused and shook his head. “But we don’t have a car!” he pointed out.
“One thing at a time,” I told him. “Let’s see how you get on with the lessons and test, and if you pass and get a full license we’ll think about some wheels to go with the license.”

That was only a small part of my plans, but I wasn’t going to tell him yet what I really had in mind. Time enough for that when he’d passed his test.
Kenny clambered onto me in his favorite position and held me tightly.
“How can I ever pay you back for all the nice things you’ve done, and are still doing!” he whispered.

“You pay me back every day,” I told him, “just by being yourself, by being here with me, wearing the things I like to see on you and because you give me such wonderful sexual highs every time we have sex.”
“That’s a two-way thing, Desi,” he said firmly. “I don’t fake my orgasms, you know! Every time I have a climax from you, it blows my mind!”

I hugged him and gave him a kiss.
“Good!” I said. “Then let’s eat and we’ll go and get some photos taken of you.”

The photos were duly produced, the forms sent off and a little more than two weeks later Kenny’s licence arrived in the post. I called the driving school and brought the start date of his lessons forward so that he could start them straight away. Arriving home on the day of his very first lesson, I was greeted by a whirling bundle of arms and energy as soon as I’d stepped into the hall.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Kenny greeted me, hugging me and reaching up to kiss me. “It was great! The instructor said I’m a natural.”

This didn’t surprise me at all. I’d instinctively felt that Kenny would take to driving as a duck takes to water. He led me into the lounge and we sat down as he regaled me with details of his first lesson. I listened patiently as he concluded:- “And he says I probably won’t need so many lessons after all. He says we could book the tests now, because there’s always a wait to get a date, anyway.”

“Excellent!” I said. “I’m so pleased for you. Go ahead and let him book the tests then. But you might as well have all the lessons, it won’t do any harm.”

Kenny nodded. “Whatever you think,” he agreed. He gazed at me for a moment or two. “Desi, I want to do something special for you! Tell me what you’d like me to do for you tonight.”
“Hmmm! Let me think a bit,” I said. “I think we’ll do something special.”

“Okay,” he replied simply. “Anything you like.”
“Something we haven’t done before.”

His eyes went blank for a few seconds and I knew he was remembering all the things that we had done together over the past weeks. Then he chuckled.
“Desi, there isn’t anything that we haven’t done before.”
“Oh yes, there is,” I told him. “I can think of two or three things.”

Again his eyes told me that he was trying to think of some sexual adventure or pleasure that we hadn’t experienced together.
“Oh, Desi. You’re not thinking of a threesome, are you?”

His voice was despondent, and his eyes were now full of worry.
“No,” I said firmly. “Absolutely not! I am not interested in any sex of any kind except with you.”

Kenny looked relieved.
“Well then, you’ve got me,” he said. “I can’t think of anything we can do that we haven’t already tried.”

I gazed at him for a moment.
“Well,” I said, “We’ve never used sex toys.” I paused. “And I have never asked you to fill your pants.”
“Fill? You mean – at the back?”
“Yes.”

Kenny looked surprised.
“No,” he agreed. “We haven’t done that before. I haven’t done that before.” He gazed at me pensively. “But you have? You like it? If you do – if that’s what you want, it’s no problem.”
“I have done,” I agreed. “I used to like it a lot. But not so much in recent years.”
“As I said, it’s no problem,” Kenny murmured. “Messy, though, I would think,” he added thoughtfully.
“Can be. But that’s not what I have in mind for tonight,” I said.

He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“Oh, it’s a surprise,” I went on. “But we do need a bit of preparation. I want you to put on my favourite pants, the ones with the open fly that are full of piss and cum. I’ll do the same.”

Kenny went to put them on and when he returned I explained what came next.
“When you have to pee next, tell me and I’ll come with you.”
“It won’t be long,” Kenny said. “I’ve already had coffees and teas enough to almost fill my bladder.”
“Good.”

When piss and cum are combined in cotton material it produces a particular fragrance, a heady smell like no other. The pee is there, but there is another smell, hard to describe, but which just tells you, SEX. Depending on which fluid has most recently soaked the cotton, one or other of the two aromas is strongest. I loved that combined fragrance, and Kenny was well aware of it.

In due course he told me that he needed to go, and we both went to the bathroom. Kenny stood in front of the bowl, expecting me to hold his lovely cock as he peed, but I said no, I wanted something else.
“Sit down,” I said, “but leave your pants up.”

He happily obliged, and I felt my own cock stirring as the fly on his cum and piss-stained pants opened briefly, revealing a quick flash of his soft cock. I gently opened his legs and put my hand inside that open fly, grasping his cock and feeling the warmth of it in my hand. I carefully angled it upwards inside the material so that it was pointing up towards the waistband. His rod began to harden and I felt him push forward against my hand.

“No,” I told him. “Not now.”
He looked disappointed.

“Yes, I want it too,” I added softly. Even as I spoke I could feel him hardening until he was at half-mast. Reluctantly I withdrew my hand.
“Keep it pointing up,” I said, “and just let the first little gush wet your pants. After that, stop.”

He nodded, looked down and after a few moments I saw the cotton grow darker as he allowed himself to flow into his pants.
“Okay,” I said.

He nodded and screwed his face up. “Bit hard to stop now,” he muttered.
I told him to change places with me and I sat down myself, Kenny standing in front of me.
“Ooo! Need to go!” he murmured.

I eased his cock through the open fly with one hand and directed it at my own pants.
“Now, you can let go,” I told him.

I’d hardly finished speaking when I felt the gush of pee inside his cock through my palm, and his warm jet of golden shower shot at me and hit my stomach and pants, soaking the material and running down my thighs and balls until they were soaked and I could hear it dripping into the bowl.
Finally the flow stopped.

“Needed that!” Kenny gasped. “I was busting!”
“I can tell,” I remarked dryly. “It was exactly what I wanted.”
“You know,” Kenny began softly, “while we’re in here, I can do the other thing for you, if you want. I could easily fill – ”

“No,” I interrupted him. “Little Kenny, I’ll let you know if I want that.” I thought for a moment. “But I’ll tell you what,” I went on. “Stop using any paper afterwards, and see how we go with that. Maybe I shall be happy with that, or maybe it’ll trigger a desire for more. We’ll see. But just pull up your pants afterwards without using any paper.”

Kenny nodded, smiled, then leaned forward and kissed me gently.
“Whatever makes you happy, Desi.”

We lazed away the afternoon, opening a bottle of wine and enjoying it slowly. Kenny was studying his driving theory manual, - a test on which he would have to pass first before he could take the practical driving test on the road. After his second glass of wine, Kenny withdrew his cock from his pants and looked at me.

“I really want you,” he said. “Come and suck me. Or at least wank me. I want to feel you close to me, want to feel you playing with my cock.”
I shook my head. “No, we’re going to save it for my surprise,” I said firmly.

“So I can’t even do it myself?” he asked, beginning to stroke himself up and down.
“Put it away!” I said in mock severity. “Don’t touch it again unless you have to pee, in which case do what you did before, again.”
“Spoilsport!” grumbled Kenny, but he was smiling as he tucked away his gorgeous flesh inside his pants.

Truth to tell, I wanted nothing more than to fulfil his wish and go to hold that lovely smooth, hot cock, or take it in my mouth and suck it and lick it until he could hold back no longer and gushed his hot cum over me, or into my mouth. But I was sure that would lessen the effect of my little plan, so I didn’t touch him.

At about 6.30 I told him we were going out.
“For a walk?” he asked.
“Among other things. I want you to wear your loose, black tracksuit bottoms. Tee-shirt, and I suppose a light jacket, because it might be a bit cooler by the time we come home.”
“This is all very intriguing,” Kenny observed.

We both had the same tracksuit, with loose fitting cotton trousers sporting zip pockets. They were quite baggy, and very comfortable. We changed into them, both of us still wearing our favourite pants full of cum and pee. I made sure I had my wallet, -- I was going to need that -- keys and cigarettes, and we set off.

Every time Kenny moved near me it wafted that erotic aroma from his pants into the air. I sniffed appreciatively.
“Do love that smell,” I commented. I was sure other people passing by, or nearby, would also catch whiffs of it, but I didn’t care. They could think what they liked.

I locked up the place and we strolled into the centre, stopping occasionally to window-shop. It was a mild, end-of-summer evening, and as we reached the pedestrian precinct I headed for a wine bar that we’d frequented before.

“Let’s sit outside and have a glass of wine and a ciggy,” I suggested. This passed a comfortable and gentle half hour.
“I’m still trying to work out what this special surprise is,” Kenny remarked at one point.
“You’ll see,” I told him mischievously. “Not long now.”
“Whatever it is, my balls are bursting with cum,” Kenny said. “I’ve wanted sex all afternoon and when I cum, there’s going to be a lot of it.”

I just smiled at him. Eventually, our wine glasses regretfully empty, I decided it was time to move on.
“Don’t know about you,” I ventured casually, “but I’m getting quite hungry.”
“Are we eating out?” he enquired.

I nodded. “Thought we might.”

A few minutes further strolling brought us to a restaurant I’d seen many times but never tried. On the pretext of stopping to look at the menu displayed in the window, I examined the interior through the glass. As I’d thought, it was exactly what I needed. Apart from the tables set in the centre of the room, there were a set of areas around the walls which seemed to be like private booths;- the tables and bench seats partly screened by three-quarter-width decorative trellis panels with a gap at one side for customers and waiters to enter the secluded booth.

The trelliswork had small gaps in the top three feet, which meant that the tables themselves, the seats and the lower half of any customers were hidden from view and quite private. A customer could see out, and catch a waiter’s eye, but no-one could see in and watch a customer eating. The restaurant had several customers, but it wasn’t full.

“Let’s try this place,” I suggested. “It looks nice and the menu is pretty comprehensive.”
“Cool!” Kenny responded. “They have veal and I’ve never tried it. Is it nice?”
“Very,” I assured him.

It took but a minute or two to enter, indicate the booths and be shown to one on the far wall by the Maitre d’, who produced two menus with a flourish and asked if we’d like an aperitif. Kenny selected a vodka tonic and I chose a malt whisky.

I was looking forward to getting started on the main part of my plan, but I waited until we’d studied the menus, chosen our meals – Veal Zurichoisse for Kenny and boned duck with a port wine sauce for me, both preceded by a prawn cocktail starter – placed our orders and I’d selected a bottle of Chateauneuf Du Pape to accompany the meals.

“I like this place,” Kenny remarked. “Nice atmosphere and décor.” He settled back and took a sip of his vodka.

“Secluded,” I commented, and put my hand on his thigh. I’d made sure that Kenny had entered the booth first, so he was sitting in the corner formed by the wall behind him and the solid partition between us and the next booth. Instead of sitting opposite him, with my back to the trellis screen, I sat beside him, a vital part of my plan, so Kenny was on my left. It allowed us both to see out through the trellis into the main area of the restaurant.

I felt the slightest of jerks in Kenny’s leg as my fingers trailed up the fabric of the tracksuit until it reached his groin.
“Don’t do that!” he whispered. “I’ll get a hard on, and it’s not fair! I’ve wanted that all afternoon and you wouldn’t, but now you’re teasing me and making me even hornier.”

I let my fingers rove until I could feel his soft cock through the tracksuit. As I expected, it immediately began to harden and I began to rub it gently.
“Desi!” he implored. “Don’t tease me now!”
“I’m not going to,” I told him and removed my hand. I’d seen the waiter approaching with our starters. As he entered the booth and deftly placed the plates in front of us we were both toying with our drinks.

I waited, sure that the wine waiter would appear momentarily, and sure enough he was heading our way. He offered me the taste of the luscious red wine after uncorking it in that efficient and professional way that wine waiters have everywhere, but which you can never seem to emulate at home. I nodded and he quickly poured a half glass for each of us and set the bottle on the table.

Kenny was already tucking into his prawn starter and savouring the Sauce Marie Rose and the buttered brown bread that came with it. I used my right hand to fork some lettuce and prawns and let my left hand rest on Kenny’s thigh again. This time I made a point of gently squeezing his leg and moved my hand so I could grasp his cock properly. I began to gently wank him through his clothes.

He stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth and then continued eating slowly.
His cock became harder inside his clothes until I could feel that it had almost reached its full ramrod state.
“Cruel!” Kenny murmured. “That’s really wicked of you. Nice, but wicked.”

I made sure my movements were very slow and gentle, enough to keep him hard and excited, but not enough to make him cum.

As he finished eating I removed my hand again and glanced down. Sure enough, his cock was visible inside his tracksuit and pants, rigidly standing up and pointing towards the corded and elastic waistband of the tracksuit.
I finished my own starter and sat back.
“Not fair!” Kenny whispered. “Look at me! Now what am I going to do?”
“Nothing,” I replied. He glanced at me but said no more.

Our waiter arrived shortly after and cleared away our plates. We sipped at the wine and I waited. In due course our main meals arrived. Kenny started on his with great relish, making little approving noises at the taste of the veal. I had deliberately ordered the boned duck as I wanted to keep one hand mostly free. I cut up the meat the American way, into bite sized chunks, so I could eat it all with my fork in my right hand and not need to use a knife much at all.

As Kenny continued to enjoy his meal, I gently undid the cord of his tracksuit and pulled at the waistband to give myself some room. Slowly I slid my hand inside the tracksuit, feeling the tip of Kenny’s lovely rod inside his pants and still quite hard. Slowly my fingers moved down towards the open fly and probed inside. His hot flesh jerked as I carefully eased it outside his pants and cupped my hand around it.

Kenny began to breathe faster. I glanced at his face, and his eyes were big and round, but fastened firmly on the gaps in the trellis as he watched for anyone approaching our booth. I knew there would be at least one more interruption before long, so I just gently wanked his hot, hard cock inside his tracksuit, feeling the backs of my fingertips brushing against the warm fabric of his pants, still erotically damp from his earlier pee, as his cock strained in my hand.

“If you do that I shall cum!” Kenny whispered tersely. “I will!”
“We can’t have that!” I murmured, and kept my hand still.
“Don’t move!” Kenny warned me. “Another stroke or two and I won’t be able to stop myself shooting it all out!”

I saw the Maitre d’ heading our way and removed my hand from Kenny’s clothes. The man popped his head around the screen and enquired if everything was alright and did we need anything else?
“No, thank you. We’re coming along nicely,” I said with a straight face.
“Excellent,” said the Maitre d’. “I’ll leave you to finish in peace.”

I heard a slight noise from Kenny, a sort of half cough, half snort. He had continued eating and had almost finished his meal. The Maitre d’ disappeared into the depths of the restaurant.

I continued on the last few morsels of my own meal and my left hand went back inside Kenny’s tracksuit. As I’d half expected, whether because I hadn’t touched him for a bit, or because the Maitre d’ had appeared I wasn’t sure, but his gorgeous rod had lost some of its hardness and was lying against his pants, hot, firm and engorged. I grasped him again gently and slowly slid my hand down towards the base of his cock, feeling the soft foreskin slide back until his helmet was nestling against the edge of my hand.

I reversed the movement, closing his skin over the helmet, and then back again, a very, very slow stroking that I could feel was bringing him back to full erection. His helmet grew larger and more engorged as the edge of my hand brushed against it with each stroke. Kenny’s eyes were closed and he was leaning back against the seat. He pushed his hips forward as I stroked him.

“Oh that is so nice!” Kenny murmured. “But you’re a rotten sod for doing that here, now, when I shall have to wait till we’re home to cum.”
I spied a waiter approaching and removed my hand once more.
“You keep bringing me right to the edge, you sod!” Kenny whispered. “You rotten tease!”

The waiter enquired if we wished to see the dessert trolley but I told him we’d decline for the moment as we wished to enjoy the wine, and we’d signal him when we were ready for dessert. He gave a perfunctory little half bow and moved away.
Now there should be, I’d estimated, a period when we should remain undisturbed.
It was time for the main part of my little surprise.

Slipping my hand once more inside Kenny’s tracksuit trousers I took his cock in my hand again and began to stroke him up and down.
“I warned you,” Kenny murmured, his eyes closing in pleasure again, “that I would have to cum if you did that. Please stop. We’re in a public restaurant, and if someone sees we’re going to be arrested.”
“They won’t see,” I assured him.
“I’ve never cum in a public place,” Kenny murmured. “The thought of it is exciting.”

And then he opened his eyes wide and turned his head to look at me.
“That’s your surprise, isn’t it?” he gasped. “You wanted to have some sex in front of other people.”
“Well, not in front of them,” I corrected, “but with other people nearby.”

His cock was now ramrod hard again, and our conversation about, or the thought of, a public area made his member even harder, hotter and more rigid in my hand than I thought he’d ever been. He pushed his hips forward again against my hand.
“I can’t cum here!” he gasped softly. “It’ll show as a wet patch on my clothes! Everybody will see when we leave.”
“Yes they will,” I agreed, and I felt his cock twitch strongly. “So what? You dropped some wine, gravy, whatever, on your clothes.”

I could feel his cock quivering and I knew it would be only moments more before he lost control.
“Nobody will know,” I continued carefully, “that I have wanked you off into your clothes and the wet mark is where you have shot your load of wonderful hot, sticky, creamy, spunk all over your pants and inside your tracksuit.”

His cock was like a steel rod in my hand and I hoped my carefully chosen words would be enough to make him cum. I felt the quivering in its entire length as I slid his foreskin up as far as it would go to the base of his helmet. He was much too big and engorged for it to pass over and enclose it, and I paused there for a second or two.

“Just hold it back and wait as long as you can,” I finished. I slid my hand down to the base of his cock once more and then wanked him much faster for a couple of strokes, finishing with my fingertip tracing a line up and down the back of his cock, following the vein.
Kenny pressed back hard against the seatback, his hips pressed forward against my hand, his eyes closed and his breath gasping.

“Can’t wait…!” he gasped and then he released himself and I felt his spunk gush forth, over the edge of my hand, running down my fingers and lubricating them as I wanked him faster again.

Kenny let out little gasps of “Uh! Uh!” as his cock spasmed and he shot his cream out in huge bursts. I could feel the warm cum resting on the top of his pants where he’d shot first. His cock quivered and jerked in my hand, so hot and hard, slippery with the cum he was still shooting out.

He gasped and gasped as his cock spasmed again and again. It felt as if there were gallons of his hot white spunk shooting from the huge end of his cock. It went on and on, and I couldn’t believe how much cum he was spurting.
The feel of his cock, the warm stickiness of his cum, the obvious ecstasy he was in as he shot spunk everywhere inside his clothes, the feel of those damp, warm, pants full of piss that were now receiving yet another soaking with Kenny’s precious and special hot cream, made me hard and I felt my own cock straining for release now inside my own pants.

Slowly the spurts from Kenny’s rod subsided and I relished the wet, warm feel of his cock, and my hand sharing the sticky spunk that had soaked the outside of his pants and the inside of his tracksuit.

Kenny slowly relaxed back into his seat and opened his eyes. I gently wiped my hand over his pants, spreading his cum over as much of them as I could. Then I twisted my wrist and wiped the inside front of his tracksuit, leaving the last traces of his wet cream there and drying most of my hand at the same time. His cock twitched as I brushed against it and he grabbed my hand through his clothes to stop me. His hands were trembling, and his legs, almost his whole body was quivering.

“Desi,” Kenny said softly and firmly, “I will never, never, be able to have an orgasm like that again. I just know it.”
“You were full,” I agreed quietly. “You shot out a hell of a lot of spunk.”

My fingertips found a pool of cum lying on his pants and I scooped up as much as I could. Sliding my hand from his clothes I brought my fingers to my lips and sucked the cum from them.
“As tasty as always,” I commented. I took his right hand and placed it over my cock.

“Feeling your cum and hot cock has made me horny,” I murmured.
“Then you deserve the same pleasure,” Kenny whispered back.

He undid my tracksuit cord and slipped his right hand inside the waistband. His gentle fingers probed into my pants and withdrew my hard cock, just as I had done with him. He began to stroke me, his cool fingers running up and down my length, teasing round the tip, his thumb brushing across the opening where, I knew, there would very soon be my own jet of cum shooting forth.

But then Kenny reached across with his left hand and pulled down the waist of the tracksuit, forcing it down towards my thighs. My hard cock was now completely free of my clothes and standing straight up in the air. If anyone had looked round the screen at that moment they would have seen exactly what was going on – my rod standing straight up and ready to cum, and Kenny’s hand grasping it and stroking my cock up and down.

Kenny squirmed down sideways to bend over my lap and, unbelievably, opened his mouth to take my rod inside. He began to suck me hard and I felt my cock straining upwards to push between his soft lips. His fingers and thumb continued to stroke me at the base of my rod as his tongue and lips licked and sucked as if he wanted to pull my cock off my body.

My eyes were glued to the restaurant as I watched through the screen in case anyone was approaching us.
Then, incredibly, Kenny used his left hand to wave across the gaps in the screen. Our waiter, hovering near another table of diners, caught the movement and gave a slight nod.

“What the hell are you doing!” I whispered urgently.

I knew I was close, and the last thing I wanted was anyone near us, yet Kenny had just signalled the waiter to come to our booth.

I saw him leave the other table and start towards us. Kenny gave a huge suck on my cock and flicked his tongue across my helmet. I felt the quiver in my balls and knew I was going to cum in a few seconds.
Kenny straightened up and gave my rod a couple of last massive strokes. I felt the cum start its journey from my balls, just as the waiter reached our booth. Kenny very quickly released my cock and pulled my tracksuit back up.

He’d managed to time it perfectly.
The waiter appeared in the entrance to the booth just as my first spasm shot my cum out, all over my pants and inside the tracksuit. My cock twitched and jerked as my hot spunk splashed over me. I felt it landing on my pants, trickling down to my thighs and running towards my balls.
“Are you ready for dessert?” the waiter enquired.

It was incredibly erotic to have the waiter standing a few feet away as my rod released its load of hot cream. I was trying not to gasp with each spasm. Whether the waiter noticed my cock jerking and twitching beneath my clothes I had no idea, but I couldn’t stop it if I’d wanted to, and the knowledge that I was shooting cum with someone standing nearby added to the exhilaration of my orgasm.
“Yes please,” Kenny replied with a smile.

The waiter vanished from the entrance and Kenny immediately grabbed my cock through my clothes and stroked me again. This produced several more gushes of hot cum, and my cock, thighs and balls now felt sopping wet with my warm cream.
I leaned back and finally opened my mouth to gasp for breath.

“That was incredibly risky!” I gasped in a whisper.
“But very enjoyable!” Kenny grinned. He slid his hand inside my tracksuit again and massaged my cum over the front of my pants and onto my cock and thighs.
“You obviously enjoyed it!” He withdrew his hand and licked some cum from it.
“A starter before dessert,” he said and chuckled.

The waiter was returning with the dessert trolley. I selected profiteroles and Kenny opted for a mango flan. When they were served and we were alone again, Kenny selected two slices of mango with his fingertips. Before I knew it, or could say a word, he had inserted his hand into my clothes and gently squashed the mango over my cock.
“I’ll save those for later,” he said, and giggled.

Not to be outdone, I smeared some chocolate sauce on my fingers and wiped that over his cock in turn. As I slid my hand into his clothes, I caught that heady aroma that I loved so much, coming from his wet pants. Warm cum, piss, Kenny’s own special smell, his pheremones, they all combined to make me want more of him, but I knew I would have to recover for a while.

As if to cement the bond that this handsome, sexy and virile young man had with me, Kenny murmured “I can smell you. It’s gorgeous! Want to wank you again and fuck you!”
“Not now, and definitely not here!” I answered firmly.

Somehow we managed to turn our thoughts away from enjoying each others’ bodies and finished our desserts.
“That,” Kenny said as he spooned up the last of his flan, “was certainly something we haven’t done before and definitely a big surprise. Are we going to do it again, sometime?”
“Don’t know,” I answered him. “Not sure if we could get away with it again.”

He nodded. “It was fantastic!” he said. “Unbelievable evening. And the food was excellent, too.”
I agreed with him, but thought privately that it was probably much too dangerous to try having sex in the restaurant again. It would have to be this one, because of the layout of the booths and screens which gave the necessary privacy. I’d enjoyed it, and he was right, the whole episode had been unbelievably erotic and sexually satisfying, but if we ever were going to repeat it, there would have to be several months wait before we tried it again.

The waiter re-appeared and offered us coffee and we both chose an Irish coffee with whisky. We dawdled over them and just sat and enjoyed each other’s company. Finally, however, it was time to leave. I could still feel the wetness of all my cum inside my tracksuit, and no doubt Kenny could feel his too. As we stood and exited the booth I glanced down, and sure enough there was a large dark patch on the front of my tracksuit, wet from my gushes of spunk.

I glanced at Kenny’s and his were the same. I paid the bill, putting cash on the small tray the waiter had placed on the table and leaving a handsome tip, not only because the meal and service had been excellent, but I thought if he had noticed anything, the tip might help to keep his mouth shut.

We strolled slowly towards home in the faint evening light, with occasional pools of illumination from the few streetlights that were already glowing, crossing the pedestrian precinct and window-shopping again, this time on the opposite side of the square. Glancing ahead, I noticed a bundle of rags lying in a shop doorway. Except, as we got closer, it wasn’t just a bundle of rags;- it was somebody lying there.

“Look,” I said to Kenny. “Somebody you knew?”
I’d said it jokingly, but Kenny took me seriously.
“It could be,” he said slowly. “Should we take a look?”
“If you want to,” I said dubiously. I didn’t really want Kenny to renew any of his old homeless, druggie, rentboy acquaintances.

We approached the shop and I could see that it was indeed a figure lying, curled up in a foetal position on the cold stone entrance to the shop. His head was tucked into his chest, presumably in an effort to keep warmer. It was noticeably cooler, not to say chilly, in the evenings now, and this figure was wearing what looked like some sort of old military greatcoat, tattered, torn and stained. The figure appeared to be asleep. He wasn’t dead because I could see his chest moving as he breathed.
“It’s a homeless vagrant,” I said to Kenny. “Leave him. Let’s go.”

But Kenny had bent down closer to the figure.
“He looks familiar,” Kenny murmured. “Sure I’ve seen this coat before somewhere.”