Blonde Angel – Part One

Usual disclaimers apply, if you don’t like this kind of story, don’t read it. If you are not allowed to view such stories, then don’t. If you want to send me a nasty email about this story, then don’t.

*** MORE IMPORTANT *** I am planning for this to be a series of stories involving M/b, M/b/b, b/f, M/b/f and I apologise if the first one is a little longer leading up to the good stuff, but this is based on reality and I want to set the scene properly. I hope you enjoy the story and if you want me to continue, I actively encourage emails to tell me so. Thanks.

BLONDE ANGEL – Part One


When I lived in the UK I had a bit of a hobby restoring old cars. It was a fun thing to do and it was chill out time for me. I had a good sex life thanks to Squirt and Gaydar and I could always supplement my over active imagination with the stories on Nifty, never dreaming I would ever get the opportunity to actually indulge in a little boy loving of my own. I was happy though and my regular fill of the stories was enough to bring me to a very nice orgasm with the thoughts of a fresh virgin teen in my bed.

One Sunday I was out in the garage, dismantling the rear end of a 1963 Ford Anglia. My house was an old Victorian terrace and I had built a big double garage out the back. The doors of the garaged opened up onto the back alleyway and I always had them open when I worked.

It was early March so it was still quite chilly, but beating old bits of metal kept me warm enough, I was content.

I had a helper whenever I worked. At this time it was my friend’s son Mark. He was 17 and straight as a dye and I never had any intentions of trying to molest him, but he was great fun to be around and he made a super cup of coffee. I paid him a pittance but he loved helping out.

For the record, at the point of this story, My name is Mike and I was 35 years old at the time, average looking guy, reasonable build, always shaved all my body hair and had a very short spiky hairstyle. I have a nice seven inch cock which is also quite thick and chunky. Always gets coo’s when I reveal it so I am happy with my lot. Nobody has ever been aware that I am gay, the circles I work in have never been over friendly in that respect and I have always sought a quieter life.

Mark shouted that coffee was ready so I climbed out from beneath the car, sat on an oil drum in the entrance of the garage. We watched the odd looks as locals walked past seeing the oil covered pair drinking coffee and chomping biscuits. Mark wolf whistled a few girls and we laughed at the horrified look on their faces. One very cute one smiled and blushed at his attention, and I ribbed him that he was `in’ there.

Just as we finished our coffee and I was about to climb under the wreck again, I noticed a young boy walking slowly down the alleyway. He was a very petite thing with short scruffy blonde hair. He seemed to have a bit of an effeminate walk about him and as he got closer he flashed be a little nervous smile, obviously caused by my ridiculously dirty face. I couldn’t help giving him a big silly grin, knowing how ridiculous that would look. He smiled a little more, then nervously turned away and increased his pace. He could have been no older that 11 or 12 and it was only a fleeting thing, but I remember noticing how hot he looked and was the kind of image in my mind when I read most nifty archive stories.

As the day passed, I soon forgot the little blonde angel but I did detect something wrong with Mark. He kept trying to start a conversation, but stopped at the last minute. As we got close to cleaning up time I pushed him a little harder.

`So, come on fella, what’s the matter?’

Mark stuttered, `Oh, it’s nothing’

`Come on!’ I pushed

He pondered for a moment, then he began,’ It’s just that I am not going to be able to work with you on Sundays anymore because my boss is offering us a lot of overtime and it’s double pay. But I am gonna so miss working with you. I hope you’re not too pissed with me mate’

I smiled, `Why would I be pissed? Gimme a break! You would be crazy to give up that extra money!’

Relief spread across Mark’s face and he quite visibly relaxed and the rest of the day was like old times. I was quite gutted that he wouldn’t be helping anymore. Apart from the fact he was good company, he was a great help around the place and when you are fiddling with cars, an extra pair of hands is essential. Never mind though, I would get by. Maybe ask Mark if any of his mates liked to get full of oil instead of relaxing on a Sunday!

The next few weeks I worked alone in the garage and it was still good fun. I missed the banter but I had the radio playing in the background and I treated the Ford Anglia to some of my awful renditions of the latest songs. The work was coming on well. Once or twice I was treated to little glimpses of the little scruffy haired youth walking or cycling past as I worked and each time he passed I got the same hint of an embarrassed smile and then he was gone. I must admit, I saw his face a few times as I read and wanked over nifty stories.

When July came, it was unusually warm in England and I was working in cut-off jeans and T-shirt and was busy under the car fitting new brake lines. Bits of crap had been falling in my eyes all afternoon and I was getting more and more frustrated. I was expecting a work colleague to pop in with some documents I needed for the following morning and when I saw the shadow of a pair of legs next to car, I assumed he had arrived. It was perfect timing as I had left the spanner I needed on the front of the car and I didn’t want to climb out for the millionth time today to get it.

`Pass me that 13mm spanner off the radiator will you Paul?’ I shouted.

I sensed the shuffling off feet round to the front of the car and I reached out as I saw the glint of the spanner appear to my left.

`How did you know my name was Paul?’ a high pitched voice said from somewhere in the garage.

I knew this voice wasn’t my friend and confusion took over so I scramble out from the car towards the shadow of the legs and as I got to my knees, I was almost face to face with the blonde kid from the alleyway!

The obvious shocked look on my face seemed to suddenly unnerve him so I immediately relaxed my face and gave a big smile

`Err thanks for the spanner …… er ….. Paul! I didn’t actually know your name, but I am waiting for my friend who is also a Paul’

He smiled and nodded at this response and for a kid, who had always seemed so nervous, he asked very casually, `Where is your friend that usually helps you?’

I told him that Mark had to work now on a Sunday so I was now on my own, `Unless of course, you can fix cars too’ I added jokingly

`Well I would like to learn’ he added quickly. His voice was not as camp as I would have imagined but it was definitely a little more feminine than any boys his age.

My mind was instantly in a spin with all of the nifty stories I have ever read leaping to the fore.

I went to kitchen and brought us out a couple of cans of coke and chatted with my new `friend’ I discovered that he lived with his mother and sister and his father left a few weeks earlier. He always helped his Dad in the garage when he was fixing his motorbike and I think he just missed an older guy’s attention. I was shocked to discover he was actually nearly fourteen years old but just very short and young looking. Apparently he got teased a lot at school for it. I suspected he also got teased for his camp walk and girly voice too but I didn’t ask, mainly because those were two things that drove me wild about him. Several times, I had to discreetly adjust my cock which I could feel swelling as I heard his sweet sexy voice telling me about his life.

I decided I would not be the predator but be a friend and told little Paul that if his mother agreed, he could come and help me on a Sunday, but it would be lots of dirty work but I would give him 25 Pounds a day. Paul thanked me ever so politely and then for the first time, beamed his beautiful little smile at me showing his perfect little smile. My heart skipped and immediately I could hear the predator in me wake up. Not just a little. I heard it growl.

As he left, he skipped down the alleyway and I watched his tiny lean body with lust in my eye, I would have to control myself like never before.

The next Sunday, as arranged, Paul arrived at my door in a set of blue overalls which his father must have bought him. His squeaky clean complexion and tousled hair were a stark contrast to the grubby material of his clothes and I had prepared myself all week and was determined to behave myself with this innocent young man (angel – oh my God).

We got straight to work on the car, today we were finishing all the braking system, and Paul was very efficient in finding the tools I consistently lost around the place. He was just as chatty, if not more, as Mike and our topics covered everything from school work to TV and to video games. In short, he was excellent company and I purposely avoided the topic of anything sexual. He was a perfect helper and his cute voice made me feel very happy indeed. As the sun rose in the day, I was roasting in my shorts and T-shirt and I could see Paul was sweltering in his overalls so I went in the house and found a set of my nephew’s shorts and t shirts. My nephew was 11 but these fit Paul just fine, but despite the fact I had helped him, it was now going to make my life hell. The shorts showed off his little bubble butt to perfection and with the sweat, the white T-shirt kept sticking to his chest and I could see the dark outline of his nipples clearly through the material.

That first Sunday was indeed complete torture, but as the weeks went by, I managed to control myself more and mostly managed to keep my cock restrained and invisible.

After Paul had been working with me for about 5 weeks, I had been invited to a wedding on the Saturday night. I got unbelievable drunk and when I got home, somehow I managed to strip myself and get to bed but completely slept through my alarm. I was awoken by the sound of a little fist rapping at my door. I jumped out of bed, morning wood in place, grabbed my shorts (couldn’t find the underwear) and ran to answer the door. He was stood there, huge grin on his face (which seemed to be a permanent fixture since he had been helping me), vest shirt and close fitting blue cotton shorts (grrrrowl).

I ushered Paul into the kitchen to make me a lot of coffee and I grabbed an old shirt off the laundry pile and joined Paul in the kitchen. I drank three cups of coffee, munched some painkillers and within half an hour, Paul dragged me out to the garage and work began.

Only as I lay on the floor to begin grinding at the rusty sills did I remember that I still hadn’t put any underwear on. But since this meant going all the way back upstairs, I decided to stay commando for the day.

My chats with Paul were a little less today, mainly because my head felt like it had been through a blender but also because the grinder made such a racket. As I was grinding, Paul would squat by my feet to watch me work, only moving from this position when I asked him to pass me a hammer or some other tool. However, at one point, when I was twisted to reach an awkward position, I noticed him, from the corner of my eye, shift himself to what seemed like an unusual position. I half thought that it was unusual to move there because his view of my working wouldn’t have been as good. When I repositioned again, Paul moved too. Then a third time. My mind started working on this, and then I realised. With my baggy shorts and my twisted position, I could feel a breeze hitting my balls. If a breeze was hitting them, Paul must be looking up my trouser leg! He was eyeing me up!

I couldn´t take any chances or jump to any conclusions on this so I decided to test the theory a little, so I asked him to go and make a coffee as I pretended to be concentrating under the car. As he stood up, without turning my head, I peered at the front of his shorts and there definitely seemed to be a swollen lump, much more than usual. Was this kid getting off on me? I certainly hoped so.

Before Paul came back, I repositioned myself to give maximum exposure up the baggy leg of my shorts, I even positioned my semi hard cock so it was clearly visible in the gap (When this hottie was around, I always sported a semi). When he arrived with the drinks he went straight back to his viewing position and clearly heard a gasp as spotted my tool so blatantly on show.

`You OK there Champ’ I called

He stuttered a reply, `Err yeah yeah, just scolded myself with the coffee’

I smirked to myself as I continued the section with the metal grinder for a few more minutes, every so often, stealing a glance at his pretty face, with his mouth open catching flies a he stared at my cock which I could feel twitching every few seconds. I had to concentrate hard on not letting it grow to fully erect, but to just be at a nice plump stage.

As I clambered out from beneath the car, Paul quickly turned away from me, quite obviously hiding his own erection, and made his way to our seats by the garage door. As I looked at him, his face was flushed with the excitement of the situation and maybe confused. I still didn’t know how much he knew about his own sexuality and whether it was just fascination of seeing an adult cock or genuine horniness. Whatever it was, I was going to be careful, I didn’t fancy any form of prison sentence!

It was still in the throws of an unusually hot English summer and as we finished our drinks, the temperature in the garage was getting more than a little too hot and I suggested we clean up in the garage and finish early for the day. Paul was sweating like a pig too and readily agreed. As we stood up from our seats on the old oil drums, my boot had snagged on the bottom of the drum and as I moved forward, it pulled the drum, tipping it over. The top of the drum split sending 10 litres of old black oil gushing across the floor. As I turned to try and stand the drum up, I lost traction and fell with a crash on my chest in the slimy filthy mess. When Paul saw what was happening, he came across to try and help, but in his haste, landed in a pile next to me on his back. As we both sat up, we were pretty much covered from head to toe, in foul smelling waste oil. We were a pathetic sight and as we looked at each other, we completely fell apart laughing.

The next hour was spent scooping up the oil, soaking the floor in a degreaser and using rags to clear as much of the oil off our clothes as we could.