Waifish

This story was adapted from one of my stories written as Dreamweaver705. In that story, the romance occurred between a man and a younger woman. Here the story is of two men finding each other when most they need someone. All participants are over 18.

*****

It was barely half-past-five and as the sun went down the mercury was falling even faster. The media had been reporting on it all day. The temperature was expected to hit a record low tonight even for this northern clime, possibly as low as forty-five degrees below zero. Everyone was warned to stay off the streets and there was a scramble to help the homeless to shelter.

This was in my thoughts as I walked home from work and I watched everyone rushing to wherever they needed to go, do whatever they needed to do and get inside for the night. People were plugging in their cars, chimneys were puffing away and it was reassuring to think that I would be home soon too. But with that reassurance came a little guilt. There were a lot of people without homes out there. I always wondered what they did at times like this. I had helped out a little and in very small ways. I mean, what's it worth to lead a freezing man to a heated bank machine enclosure to get warm? Nothing to me, everything to him, I guess.

As I walked out of the downtown core toward my residential street, I passed by a large department store's loading dock, and by chance I happened to hear a muffled whimper through my hood and the whipping wind. I stopped, looked around and there huddled down against a garbage dumpster near the loading dock doors was a girl and she was crying.

No, it was not a girl! It was a very feminine boy.

He was young, perhaps twenty. And pretty in that way that boys sometimes are. I'd seen him before. He seemed to live on the streets, or at least he had for the past few months. This was the first time I'd ever seen him alone though. Not only alone now, but cold and miserable too. And my heart went out to him.

I just stood there. He noticed me looking at him and he looked back, trying to dry his eyes and not doing very well.

I started to turn away, thinking I should leave and was immediately ashamed that such should be my first instinct at a time like that. I turned back and held out a hand to the youth.

He was wary at first, but perhaps thinking he'd die in this cold, he took a chance on me. I pulled him to his feet gently and walked him to a nearby café. The place was nearly empty and I gestured to him to take a seat, and keeping my feet, asked what he would like to drink.

"Hot chocolate," he said gratefully. "Please," he added.

"Hot chocolate it is," I said. I went to the counter, got myself a coffee as well and returned to the table with our drinks. "Are you hungry?"

He was. I got him a sandwich and a salad. He devoured it in moments, washing it down with the hot drink. He had barely looked at me before he finished his meal, but now that he was done, he favoured me with a dazzling smile of gratitude and thanked me.

"You're welcome," I said.

Now that he had made eye contact, he seemed unwilling to let go of it. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You helped me. Do you have any idea how many people never turn to look, never slow down, just don't care?"

I thought about it. I answered as honestly as I could. "I don't know. I've walked by lots of people lots of times, including you. I guess I always thought it would just turn out alright. But tonight, getting as cold as it's getting... well, I guess I couldn't leave it to chance. You looked so defeated..."

He nodded.

"By the way," I said, "I'm Brent."

"I'm Tim."

We talked a little while. It turned out he had been living on the streets with another boy, and even though it had been hard, they were doing okay, finding places to sleep, making just enough panhandling to get a meal a day. Tim had left home to be with him when his parents disapproved of them being together. A lot of hard things were said and he didn't feel like he could ever go back there. Tim didn't say what had happened to the other boy, but it was obvious he wasn't around anymore. When he talked about him, you could hear the sadness and the anger. He had sacrificed his family for him and he had abandoned him. He was alone now.

I started to say something and hesitated. Then I decided just to say it. "Look, where are you going to stay tonight? I mean, if you want, you can come back to my place, have a shower, wash your clothes, sleep in a warm place." I could hear how it sounded. A man in his thirties inviting a much younger man back to his place for the night. I was sure he assumed I had ulterior motives, but I honestly acted out of concern. "A bed of your own, I mean. I, um, I don't want you to get the wrong idea... I'm not gay or anything and I'm not trying to..." I stammered on and on. "Look, I just want to help. If you want, you can come back to my place. I won't touch you."

He listened patiently. I am sure he'd had lots of offers of help at a price before. On the street, I suppose everything has its price. I sincerely was not suggesting that he had to pay me in favours. Perhaps my sincerity came across.

"You seem like a nice guy," Tim said, a little warily. "Don't you have a family?"

"Yes," I said. "I was married. Divorced now. I have two kids, a girl and a boy, both younger than you. They live with their mom. I get them every second weekend."

In the end, he must have decided I was okay. We went back to my place and I showed him around the apartment. "Bathroom, kitchen-help yourself to anything you want there-living room-I'll crash there tonight-and over there is the bedroom, where you can sleep."

Tim tried not to look obviously relieved that I had not turned into Mister Hyde as soon as I got him into the apartment. Frankly, it had occurred to me to wonder if I could trust him. After all, he was living a desperate life. He might rob me blind. He seemed clear enough, but I didn't know if he was into drugs; he might be looking to raid my medicine cabinets. I dismissed the concern. If I was honest with my-self, I had to admit that since the divorce I had damn little in my possession of any real value and there were no drugs in my house, prescription or otherwise. He could take pretty much anything and I would likely never care.

He took off the thin coat he'd been wearing, left his ragged shoes at the door and sat down nervously on the couch. I turned on the TV for him, and tossed him the remote. "Go ahead."

He enjoyed that. I guess it had been awhile since he watched any television. I made him a cup of tea and he thanked me. The TV had turned out to be a good icebreaker. He was getting more relaxed and comfortable by the moment.

While Tim watched TV, I went into the bedroom and changed the bed sheets, leaving the door open so he could see what I was doing. Then I went to the linen closet and pulled some fresh towels. I set them down by the bathtub.

"Tim?"

He looked away from the TV.

"Feel free to have a bath or a shower if you want," I said. "You can do your laundry down the hall; there's a coin laundry there. My treat."

He laughed and made a mock sniff at his armpit. "Do I smell?"

"Well," I tried to be as diplomatic as I could. "A bit, maybe." In fact, he reeked.

He laughed again at my awkwardness and my honesty. He did not seem embarrassed at all, to my relief. I guess that living on the street entailed getting used to sacrificing a higher standard of personal hygiene.

"Well, I don't have anything to wear while I do laundry."

"I can do it for you. Go ahead, take a bath. You can wear this." I gave him my housecoat for a bathrobe. "Just toss your dirty clothes into the laundry basket; with some of my stuff, it's enough for a full wash load."

Tim nodded, went into the bathroom, closed the door and a moment later returned with the laundry basket. He had started running himself a bath while he was in there. He was practically giddy. He handed me the basket and said thanks. "It's been a long time since I could just take a soak in a hot bath!"

"Oh, there's some bubble bath in the cupboard under the sink if you want."

He looked at me with a quizzical smile and a raised eyebrow. I laughed.

"No, it's not mine. My daughter likes to play in the bubble bath when she stays over."

Tim laughed then, and impulsively leaned up to me and kissed me on the cheek.

"You're a sweet man, Brent," he said and ran off to the bath with a giggle, closing the door behind him. I blushed furiously. I had not been kissed in a long time, and never by a young man. It had been obvious to me from the start that Tim was gay. I had gay co-workers and friends and I wasn't bothered by that at all.

I went and put the laundry on. An hour and a half later it was finished drying and I had folded it all. My clothes were put away and Tim's were sitting in the laundry basket.

Tim was still not out of the bath. I imagined he had turned into a prune by now and I began to worry that something had happened to him in there. It would be just my luck if I decided to help him just so he could cut his wrists in my bathtub or overdose on some drug he might have brought with him. But no, I could hear the splashing of the bathwater every once in a while. He was just enjoying a hot bath, and he refreshed the bath with a little more hot water every once in a while. I reprimanded myself for my prejudices about the homeless.

After a time, I heard the water draining out of the bath. A few minutes later, the door opened and a great cloud of steam billowed out into the living room. Tim was wearing my housecoat.

"I was beginning to think I should call a lifeguard," I said with a smile.

"Oh my God, that was fantastic," he sighed. "I feel so relaxed. And clean."

"That's great."

"And I smell better too," he said, leaning in close to where I was sitting on the couch so I could notice the difference.

"Yes, you do." Tim also looked like a new man. He had made use of one of my razors and his face was shaved clean of its thin scruff. "Oh, by the way, I sorted out something for you to wear to bed if you want."

He straightened up and arched that eyebrow at me again.

I knew he might have thought, 'here's the catch', but it was just the opposite. I definitely felt like I'd be more comfortable if he was more covered up, not less. "I have a t-shirt and a pair of boxers for you if you like, new and fresh out of the box."

"Thanks," Tim said, and flashed me that brilliant smile again.

"No problem."

It was getting on to about ten at night. I made us each another tea. We sat and drank it together with the TV on. We chatted for a while and I think I persuaded him that he should give his family a call and test the water. He wasn't angry anymore, he regretted what he'd said to them and he'd like to go back. I was sure they would likely feel the same, but if not, at least he could say he tried. I told him he'd be okay. He didn't think he'd have the nerve to call home and I suggested that he should just go there. I said I knew from experience that he had a face that would be hard not to take in. Tim laughed at that, and said that he would try that but his parents lived a few counties over and he didn't have the money to make the phone call much less the bus trip. I rolled my eyes and said, "In for a penny, in for a pound," and gave him enough to cover the fare. I was surprised when Tim had a little cry, promised to get on the first bus for home tomorrow morning and told me that I was the nicest person he'd ever met and that he would always remember me. I was touched and embarrassed.

"You've got a full day tomorrow. Why don't you turn in?"

A while later, I lay in the darkness of the living room trying to sleep but reflecting on my evening with Tim. I had really helped him today. This was easy to remember when I listened to the howling wind rattling the living room window, and stared out into the darkness of night through glass frosted by the outside chill. With some satisfaction, I finally fell asleep.

I don't know when I woke up to the sound of the bedroom door creaking open. I came to almost instantly and sat up without hesitation.

"Tim... you okay?"

"Uh-huh," he said. "I'm fine."

He was walking toward the couch.

And he was naked.

"What-? Can I-?"

"Ssshhh." He stopped me from asking by gently setting a soft finger over my lips. "You've done more than enough. I want to do something for you now. If you'll let me."

By the dim light cast from nightlights in the kitchen and hallway, I could see this beautiful angel emerging from the darkness. His body was thin and lithe and hairless except for some fluff about the armpits and genitals.

He dropped to his knees beside the couch. His fingers found their way under the quilt covering me; they were setting my senses on fire. His fingers traipsed across my thigh and found their way in short order to my sudden erection. He began stroking it through my boxers. I groaned with the pleasure, but I was torn by the feeling that I was doing something wrong.

"Tim," I stammered out, "You don't have to do this-"

"I know," he said. "And maybe that's partly why I want to so badly. Will you let me?"

"But I'm not gay."

"You don't have to be gay to enjoy a blowjob."

And that was that. After all, Tim was young but of legal age, and he clearly had no compunctions about it. And I had been alone for so long... The more he stroked, the less I thought and soon I simply yielded to his touch.

He had both hands on me now. He had pushed the quilt to one side and pulled the boxers down around my knees, and before I could fully believe what was happening, he leaned in and took me in his mouth, sucking and licking while at the same time massaging the base of my penis with one hand, my balls with the other. He knew what he was about. In a very short period of time, I could feel the semen boiling up in my balls and burning its way toward release.

"I'm going to come, Tim."

It didn't even give him pause. He only continued, his head now bobbing even faster over my swollen and pulsing penis. The throbbing pleasure in my cock came in waves, and I held back the tide as long as I could, wanting this pleasure to last as long as possible. Finally I could hold it back no longer. With a great groan of joy, I came. I came so hard I wonder I didn't pass out. Tim just kept on going until he could tell I was done and I couldn't take it anymore. Then he straightened up and I heard him swallowing my semen in a great gulp and licking his lips for anything left there. He leaned in toward the couch and lay his head on my belly and fondled my balls with one hand. I put my arm around him. I didn't know what to say. I was still in the warmth of afterglow.

After a few minutes of what I can only think of as cuddling, he straightened up and asked me to come to bed with him in an almost conspiratorial whisper.

It seemed strange to ask if he was sure he wanted me to do that. He seemed to have a pretty clear idea of what he wanted and how to get it. As for myself, after a year of celibacy, I was game for anything.

Seconds later we were in the bedroom. There was a little more light in here from the streetlights outside. Tim snuggled down into bed in front of me and smiling invitingly. I hesitated. What was I going to do next? I wasn't gay, after all. It still seemed wrong.

It was like Tim read my mind. As I stood looking down at him on my bed, he extended a long leg off the edge of the bed and touched my knee with his big toe. He slid the toe up my leg, up under the edge of my boxers until his toe pressed gently against my balls. He giggled. "You need to lose those."

With only a slight nervousness in my laugh, I got out of my own night-clothes and knelt on the edge of the bed, looking Tim over head to toe.

His beauty was fey; there was an ethereal wildness to it. His long sandy blond hair, lank and unkempt, covered the entire pillow. His pale white skin shone in the rays from the streetlight streaming through the window. His body was curvy, almost like a girl's, but the delicate tool swelling between his legs proved he was very much a man. His expression was inviting with just the right hint of lewdness. He looked back at me with sparkling eyes and licked his lips subtly.

I had never burned in lust for another man before but my erection was restored surprisingly soon after my massive release of a few minutes ago.

In my experience with women, foreplay had always been of paramount importance, but Tim's inviting expression demanded immediate action. In a way, our whole evening had been a kind of foreplay for both of us. After such a long period without the company of women, spending time with this waifish gay man had proven an un-expected aphrodisiac. What was in it for Tim? I realized that he must have started our association dreading that I would demand sexual favours for giving him shelter, or that I was manoeuvring him into circumstances by which I might rape him. For all he knew, I might have been a white slaver. When the worst did not happen, Tim's anxiety was transformed into anticipation instead. There had been a strange chemistry between us, and we both desired tenderness. We both needed comfort tonight, even if that was all it could ever be. I yielded to Tim's pressure, having no will to resist in any case.

I opened my night table drawer. I was glad I had invested in condoms and lubricant in the off chance I might have an amorous encounter. Before today, I'd never needed these precautions. Tim reached up from the bed and took the square package from my hand. He opened the packet and gestured to me. I was relieved frankly. I had been a little worried that he intended to wear the condom. I may have been attracted to the young man, but I wasn't prepared to lose my anal virginity. I stood up beside the bed and Tim lovingly unrolled the condom along the length of my dick. I shivered at the sensation. Then he reached up for the lube, slathering it on my cock, before pouring some on his fingers. He laid back on the bed, raised his legs in the air to expose his ass and lubricated his anus.

I positioned myself awkwardly, unsure of myself. I had never penetrated a male before and none of the women in my past had ever encouraged me to try anal sex. Tim sensed my discomfort and put a hand on my arm, gently pushing me back. He sat up and turned himself over to lie on his stomach. He reached around behind him and spread his cheeks open. I needed no more invitation. I positioned myself above him and pushed my erection against his asshole. Tim moaned beneath me and I pressed into him. There was a slight pop and I was inside him. We both gasped together.

His tightness surprised me. It had been a year since I'd had sex and I had forgotten the feeling of being inside another human being. It felt so good I could almost forget about the rubber sheath I was wearing. I was supporting myself with my arms and Tim arched his back below me and moaned with mounting pleasure as I pumped into his ass. I lowered myself down so that my belly fit into the small of his back, pushing him down. I lay my cheek against his. We ground together where our bodies joined for several minutes, and I was thankful for the recent blowjob because I knew I would never have lasted this long if I had not already come once. As it was, I was able to endure the pleasure.

After a few minutes thrusting into Tim, I began to feel him push back to meet me. Our movements synchronized and we grunted and moaned in unison, united in pleasure. I whispered in his ear.

"You feel so good."

"So do you, but don't hold back. You won't hurt me."

I was grateful not just for the permission but for the advice. This was my first time after all. I put my hand gently around his waist and raised us both up on our knees. I was not brutal when I pulled back with my cock and rammed it back in deep, but Tim definitely felt it.