I'm Nathan and I went through most of my childhood with foster parents. For the life of me I can't understand why they fostered. It sure as hell wasn't because they wanted to love, care for, or nurture a young life into adulthood. But that's a story in itself. After I'd run away from my foster parents for the third time, I was taken back into care and placed in a children's home. It was around then that I started to realise that I was different.
After several moves from one home to another, I ended up at Walden Way. It was a small children's unit housing twelve or so residents. I was 18 and due to leave care. Those kids that were nearing their end of time in care were put into a double room which served to prepare us for moving to a small two bedroomed flat, monitored by the staff at Walden Way. We had to budget for, and buy our own food, as well as cook and do our own laundry. Then, when we were deemed ready, we were moved into the flat. It was a good springboard to prepare us for life on our own.
My social worker found me a position at a small independent flooring supplier and I moved into the flat. I was a whizz at maths, algebra and geometry, so measuring up and calculating square meterage would be a breeze for me. It was a small store with just 9 people working there. There was the manager Brian, deputy manager, 3 salesman, and three lads in the warehouse. Eddie was the warehouse manager. Kurt and Gary were the other two lads in the warehouse. Then there was Jack the estimator. He was responsible for going to customer's houses and measuring up. He was due to retire in 6 months, hence I was taken on to be trained up. I went out with him to learn the ropes, and soon into the job I was trusted and allowed to go out on my own. I mostly covered the calls that were on the outskirts of the county. This meant that I had a certain kind of autonomy and was my own boss to some extent.
Colin was already in residence at the flat when I moved in. He was a skinhead lad that was only briefly at Walden way before he moved into the flat, so I didn't know him very well. He was just turned 18 and only had a short time left before he had to move on. We got on ok but he was lazy when it came to keeping the place clean and tidy. He often brought girls back to the flat although it wasn't really allowed. I made myself scarce when he had a girl over, retreating to my room. Every now and then, if he was particularly stoned and pissed, he would fuck his latest squeeze in the lounge. I could sometimes watch the proceedings through the crack in my door if I didn't close it all the way.
He was lean and muscled and I couldn't take my eyes off him. I watched his pale pert buttocks slamming into many a pussy. I imagined my tongue being up his arse and what he tasted like, or licking his cock and bollocks while he shafted one of the young girls he brought back. Although my experiences had been predominantly with boys up until then, I'd had a few awkward fumbling's with girls too. I just seemed more comfortable with guys, so assumed I must really be gay. Being gay was something you didn't shout about. It was best to stay under the radar. I was straight acting so didn't attract too much attention in that direction. I was definitely sexually frustrated though. I'd had a taste of sex early on but found it difficult to meet other likeminded lads and keep it all secret.
I pretty much kept myself to myself and went about my business. Everything was going reasonably well and I was enjoying the job. One afternoon I was on my way to the last call of the day out in the sticks and I just felt so fucking horny, that I considered parking the van up and going into the woods to have a wank. I probably would have done so if I wasn't pressed for time to get to the job. I decided that after I'd finished the call, I would find a spot on the way back home and go into the woods, strip naked and walk around wanking. I had done it a couple of times before when the urge took me, and found it incredibly liberating.
I pulled up to a large sprawling house, knocked, and was greeted by the sexiest lad I had ever seen. What a vision. I'd put him at no more than 25, tall and broad shouldered. His slim lanky frame was draped with lean, defined flesh and topped with a crown of short curly golden hair. He wore only a pair of boxer briefs and socks. I introduced myself and was ushered in. My eyes were glued to the backside of that stunning example of manhood. I watched his buns squabble for room inside the the cotton briefs that clung tightly to his milky skin.
"I'm Connor." He said half looking back over his shoulder. " My parents had to go out and I'm on my way out too in a bit but my shit brother is home so you can do whatever you need to. When you've finished just give him a shout and he'll see you out." His voice was brash and confident.
"Thanks, I'll be as quick as I can, but it's a large house." I explained,
"It's ok, Brett will still be here, billy no mates has nowhere to go anyway."
With that he was bounding up the stairs two at a time, and I got another spectacular view of his delightful rear end. I was glad that he disappeared into his room, saving me the awkwardness of having to conceal my blossoming member. It was hard to concentrate on the task at hand, but I managed to get through the ground floor and made a start on measuring the stairs. Half way up I heard Connor's door open. He emerged wearing a towel and disappeared into the bathroom. He called out.
"You can measure my room while I'm in the shower mate."
"No worries." I confirmed.
I decided to measure his room straight away so that I would be done by the time he finished his shower. As I opened the door, the smell punched me in the nose. His adolescent pit reeked. It's difficult to describe the aroma. It had notes of cheesy socks, sweaty bollocks, testosterone, sex, and funky festering underwear. I found the odorous onslaught intoxicating. Its effect on my cock was almost instantaneous. There was hardly a square inch of floor to be seen. Cd's, DVD's, dirty underwear, socks, clothes and sneakers all conspired to conceal the floor. I was already so horned up and the sight of his rear end and the buffet of footwear, boxers and socks, was too good a chance to pass up. I cast caution to the wind and decided to release some tension before Connor finished his shower.
It was going to be a sniff feast. For appetiser, I grabbed a stinky sock with one hand and fished my cock from my trackie bottoms with the other. It was heaven. I wanked furiously, sniffing and breathing in copious amounts of the young man's essence. Next on the menu, main course, was a nice battered pair of Vans sneakers. I dropped the sock and picked up a sneaker. I slid my cock inside and fucked it. The course innards scratched my helmet as I pushed inside and my foreskin pulled back. I wouldn't last long at this rate but I wanted to save room for dessert.
It came in the form of a well worn pair of boxer briefs. To my delight, the pair he had been wearing moments earlier. They were ever so slightly warm. and a quick inspection, told me that they must have been worn for days. There was a feint dark smudge where the material had been in close contact with his buttcrack. It had picked up the distinct funky smell of his arse. I revelled in the intimacy as I held them to my face. My climax was imminent. I convulsed in orgasm and shot wads of my muck into his trainer. Fear, guilt and self loathing paid me a visit and told me to get out of there as quickly as possible.
I cleaned my dick with a sock and inadvertently shoved the boxer briefs I was holding in my jacket pocket. I measured up quickly, then left. I hadn't been back on the stairs for more than a few minutes when Connor came out of the shower. "That was a fucking close call." I thought to myself. After I'd finished measuring the stairs and main bedrooms, there was only Brett's room to do. I knocked on his door lightly.
"Yeah, its open mate, come in." Brett declared.
You could have knocked me down with a feather, because sitting in a high backed executive style chair was a lad dressed in a tracksuit and trainers, baseball cap and the obligatory Nike TN's. And just to confirm his scally status, his trackie bottoms were tucked into skater socks. All the hallmarks of a chav or scally lad. Cropped hair made his stern face all the more intimidating. His eyes were narrow, as if he was permanently squinting and a strip of light brown hair on his upper lip attempted to pass itself off as a moustache.
By contrast, and not what you would expect at all, his room was immaculate. Everything was just so. He turned his scowling face to meet me.
"Is it ok to measure up?" I asked.
"Sure." He replied in a gruff voice.
His room was a bit of an awkward shape so it took me a few minutes to sketch it out and measure. I could feel his eyes on me all the time. He'd swivelled his chair round to face the centre of the room. I daren't look at him until I had to ask if the carpet was going all the way into the fitted wardrobes. He said they were. The clothes inside were almost regimental. Neatly folded T-shirts, masses of polo shirts and tracksuits hung like trophies. There must have been 30 pairs of trainers, arranged in perfect rows on two shelves at the bottom. My face was unavoidably close to them as I measured inside the wardrobe. I was like a kid in a candy shop and could easily have brewed another hardon. Fortunately, I'd just cum so I managed to keep a lid on it.
Brett wasn't only different to his brother in the state of their rooms, he was noticeably shorter. He must have been 19 or 20. He was a hard lad by the look of him. Short dark hair the colour of soot and closely cropped added to his harsh mean kind of appearance. Muscled and a little thicker set, not so bony as Connor. His eyes burned into me, as I told him I'd finished and we made our way to the front door. I was glad to get out of there. I'd been far too careless and very nearly got caught. There wasn't time to go back to the store, it was later than I thought, so I made my way home.
