Arron Melrose

To help set the scene it might be useful to read 'The Birthday Party' first. Arron Melrose wants to take the world and the men in it by storm.

At 17 years old, Arron Melrose was just about 1.77m tall without his socks on and though not as muscular as his wishes and exercise regime might make him, he knew that his deep voice and his natural confidence gave him an air beyond his years. Lately, it had drawn his classmate, Tim Dale to him. Tim it seemed had what Arron came to know is a ‘daddy complex,’ as during their energetic fucking sessions, things began to evolve into new discoveries. These were a revelation to both of them and once Arron had finally stopped laughing at poor Tim for calling him ‘Daddy,’  he took to the role with commanding enthusiasm .

 Clad in a heavy RAF surplus great coat despite the July heat, Arron made his way to the Wheatcliffe Hospice shop to buy the bright purple 3 piece suite upon which he had set his heart. Just to be sure, he checked the maroon lining and the tailor’s label before parting with £25.

Manny Gould’s establishment may have been deftly poised in a back street between Skelthorpe’s parish church and the town’s red light district, but his tailoring business  was a place of distinguished resort in its own right. Arron hovered politely as the elderly proprietor danced  attendance upon a prosperous looking man whom Arron vaguely recognized as being a business associate of his rich uncle. Ever since Arron had first entered Mr. Gould’s shop with his uncle Walter ten years earlier, it had seemed Tardis like.- Much bigger on the inside, than it appeared to be on the outside. Over the years, the calm atmosphere of the place, all wood paneling and hanging suits, had not changed. Even that particular smell of polish and dust remained the same.  

The young man apparently opening and closing display draws of shirts and ties, but reserving his closest attention for Arron, however, was new. About 22 and a very nice arse thought Arron.

“Ah,” said Manny noticing Arron for the first time. “Samuel my boy, take Mr. Melrose into the back kitchen and give him a cup of coffee, please.”

Placing the large plastic bag containing his bright purple 3 piece suit carefully across two chairs, Arron followed the young man into parts of the premises he had not seen before.

“Grandfather’s work room,” said Samuel, following the other’s glance as they passed a wide open door. “There’s only him now that uncle Elwyn has died.”
“I’m so sorry.” The words were spoken softly and sincerely. Arron called to mind a kindly but distant man who had given him his first silk handkerchief, what must have been ten years ago now.

“So am I, Mr. Melrose, Grandfather has forlorn hopes of me taking over,- once I have found a nice Jewish girl to marry of course. It’s a pity you don’t qualify,” added Samuel with a wan smile.

“Not on either count, I’m afraid Samuel. My name is Arron by the way. If we become friends, you can call me Arron.”

“You have the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen, Arron Melrose.”

They drew together and kissed as Samuel led them into a small kitchen and Arron’s hands stroked Samuel’s arse.

Suddenly, Samuel’s entire body went ridged. He pushed Arron aside, as if struck by lightening as he remembered seeing a young boy and his father, or was it his uncle, in this very shop a few years ago. As best he could, Samuel did a quick calculation. In that same instant, Arron saw the conclusion in the other’s features.

“How old are you,” demanded Samuel.

“Sixteen” came the insistent reply. What bravado there had been,  gone for the moment.  

“I was sixteen last week, honest.”

“Well I don’t believe you,” snapped Samuel. “ After you have concluded your business here come back next year; Better yet, don’t come back at all. You cock teasing slut.”

Arron was as angry as he was  upset. He wanted the earth to open up beneath him. He had never been called a cock teasing slut by anyone before in his life, not seriously anyway. A heavy silence fell as the two drank their coffee. They stared at each other, one bitter at being thought a cock teasing slut. The other, regretting his hasty words. A slight smile later and the two were kissing, even more passionately than before. Another, very deliberate fluttering of his eye lashes and those deep brown eyes, beneath black eyebrows that arched at him brazenly, had the usually cautious Samuel  entranced. He didn’t quite know how it happened, but here he was captivated by a handsome boy, six years his junior.  He heard Arron say, “drop ‘em,” in a voice that made him shudder with desire, and did just that. This was not usually how Samuel conducted his sex life: not even with casual encounters like this. He made no protest as Arron in one move flipped him round and pushed him across the small kitchen table.

“Great arse,” said his suitor, with a low whistle of admiration.

“Thanks, glad you like..” But before Samuel could finish what he intended would be a way of asserting some modicum of control over the situation he groaned and simpered in submission as he felt the younger man’s tongue thrust between his parted arse cheeks. He tried to check his sounds of delight as the rimming became punctuated by painful but welcome bites on his arse. When slaps joined the symphony of pain, he became certain that the slaps on his rear would surely alert his grandfather. But with Arron now leaning across his back and telling him what a gem his bum was, Samuel was past caring. He had wanted to fuck the handsome boy the moment Arron entered the shop. Yet here Samuel was, with a hungry, determined cock forcing its way into his wonton hole as if both of their lives depended upon it. He winced as Arron’s manhood thrust into him. He wanted more and knew he need say nothing. His moans were enough and sure enough, more came as Arron shagged him quickly, relentlessly. The pair moaned in unison as cum shot deep into Samuel.  

 Ten minutes later, Manny’s prosperous customer had left and the tailor was examining the purple suit, having commented approvingly on the way a mere charity shop had so expertly packed one of the rarest,- and in Manny’s view, most eccentric, of his creations. As Arron had done, the old man examined the label, just to be sure. Then, he checked his records.

“I made this for old Joe Bygrove last month and he went and died, poor chap. I thought they might have cremated him in it.
“But I’m glad they didn’t.” He smiled and nodded approvingly  at Arron, silently pleased that his skills were appreciated by one so young. “Now then young Arron, you go with my Samuel, he will take very careful measurements and I shall have the adjustments done in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

“you are very lucky my grandfather is going to all this trouble for you,” hissed Samuel as he led the way to a small cubicle.“ Usually this sort of work has to wait a day, or two before grandfather has time to do it. He is doing you a favour, Mr. Melrose.”

“I know,” The words were hardly above a whisper and although the two were in the confines of a changing cubicle, Arron was too ashamed to look Samuel in the face. Worse still, he wanted to kick the living daylights out of Samuel for calling him a slut and doubting his honesty. And on balance he reckoned he could do it too, even though he had never beaten up anyone before in his life. In the cramped confines of the changing cubicle, he was constantly only inches from Samuel’s crotch and bum. Hardly fifteen minutes ago he had fucked the arrogant, handsome man. Now,  he wanted to do it again. This only added to his frustration and anger at being so unjustly traduced. A while back he had seen what claimed to be a revenge fuck online.  Keeping his newly stirring cock from becoming too obvious to the coldly attentive Samuel, only added  to Arron’s discomfort.

‘Bollocks,’ chided the more usual self in Arron’s head. Samuel would make good wanking material tonight.

An hour later, his confidence restored to its usual levels by a new silk shirt and tie beneath the purple 3 piece suit, all paid for thanks to the indulgence of a parental credit card, Arron took  his courteous leave of Mr. Gould. He was a well brought up young man, after all. To Samuel who accompanied him to the door Arron whispered, “I am not a liar; and by the way, if anyone was a slut today, it was you.”