I'd known Peter for a couple of years or so, I guess, before he came to live in my house.

He first appeared, as a shy young lad of seventeen, on the back row of the planning meeting for the voluntary community action group I was involved with in Reading. His grandparents had brought him along with them - his mum and dad had just split up and they thought he needed something to take his mind off it all. And soon he became a regular member of the group, quiet, hard-working and keen to help out however he could. As he settled in, he soon emerged as something of a joker; there were quite a few lads just a bit older than him in the group, who would often get together for a drink after our meetings, or a game of football at the weekend, and Peter was always in the thick of the fun. Everyone liked him. Me included. You couldn't help it. Not only did he have a likeable personality, he was also pretty good-looking. Not in an obvious in-your-face sense, but in a quiet, understated kind of a way. He was only small (about 5'3") and slightly built, but quite muscular with it. His day job was as an apprentice joiner, and he was pretty strong. His short mousy-coloured hair sported some subtle blond highlights, and his boyish face broke easily into a slightly lop-sided, bashful grin.

In the summer after he first started getting involved, we had a fund-raising barbeque at his grandparents place. It was a blisteringly hot day, and pretty soon all the younger end were donning swim costumes and cooling off in the outdoor pool. Which was when I first really noticed Peter. I was sitting at a table by the pool sipping a cool beer and chatting to some local bigwig, when Peter came running round the corner, pursued by one of the girls from our group with a bucket of water, laughing and joking as ever, and wearing the tightest pair of bright red swim shorts you ever did see. For all his small stature, Peter was really starting to fill out into quite the young stud! Working outdoors much of the time, his skin was developing a healthy bronzed glow, which heightened the muscles of his chest and tight abdomen. His legs were strong and muscled too, and his backside cutely rounded in those tight shorts - the curves accentuated when the water hit its target! When he turned around, laughing at the top of his voice, a thin line of hair led the eye from his navel down towards another nicely rounded packeage in the front of the shorts. Definitely a young lad worth watching!

Shortly after his nineteenth birthday, I heard that Peter had moved into a flat in a rundown part of town with another guy from our group. Apparently his mum had taken up with some new man, and Peter just couldn't get on with him. Martin, just a year or so older than Peter, had always struck me as a bit of an idiot - a joker, like Peter, but without his disarming shyness, and tending towards loud-mouthed and obnoxious. Still the two of them seemed to get on okay.

A few months later, I started a new job back in Reading, having just finished a college course in nearby Bracknell, and began looking for a house to buy close to my work (I'd been staying at my parent's over in Henley). On my salary, to get the kind of house I wanted in a decent neighbourhood, it was obvious I was going to need a lodger to help pay the mortguage. I thought about advertising in the local paper, but this seemed a bit risky; much better to get someone I already knew. What about Peter? I don't quite know where that thought came from: Peter was a good ten years younger than me and, so far as I knew, quite happy where he was, with a mate of his own age. Still, I could always ask. So, next Saturday, as I gave Pete a lift home from the youth club building we'd been helping decorate, I casually slipped it into the conversation.

"By the way, Pete, I'll be buying a house here in town in the next few months and I need a lodger. I don't suppose you'd be interested?"

"Hey, Andy. That'd be really cool. Martin's been getting on my nerves just lately. But I wouldn't want to leave him in the lurch."

"Oh well, give it some thought. It won't be for a while, anyway, so who knows what might happen by then."

And so we left it. A few days later, Peter's grandma phoned me up; "Andy, I hear you offered Peter a place to live?" "Yeah, that's right. Or at least, I just suggested the idea. But I don't think he's too keen." "Oh but Andy, that's just what he needs! That Martin's really no good for him. Peter's so easily led, and he's getting himself into all kinds of debt trying to keep up with him. He doesn't say much, but I know he's really worried. Living with someone like you would be just what he needs." "Well. I don't know about that, but he's a nice lad; I'd be glad to have him if he decides that's what he wants." "Oh it is, I'm sure! Leave it with me!"

Nothing more was said, until, about 3 months later, I exchanged contracts on a modest little semi-detatched on the edge of town. Next time I saw him, I had a quiet word with Peter.

"You know what I said about you maybe coming to live at my place?" "Yeah?" "Well, I don't know if you're still interested, but I've got a house now, and should be ready to move in in about a month." "Really? Are you serious? That'd be brilliant!"

Somehow I hadn't got to hear, but apparently, for the last few weeks Peter had been living in a caravan at his grandparents' place, having had an almighty bust up with Martin. So it was agreed, as soon as the house was mine, Pete would move in. An ideal solution for us both.

So, on 18th September, having spent a week thoroughly cleaning the place and slapping a coat of paint over the downstairs rooms, we moved in. I had the front bedroom, Peter had the back, and the small box room served as my study. Although we'd been working together on and off on various projects for over a couple of years now, I didn't really know Pete that well, but we soon settled into a really good easy-going relationship, like we'd been mates for years. Or brothers - Bill next door was really surprised one day, a month or so after we moved in, when he heard me refer to Pete as 'the lodger' - he'd assumed he was my kid brother. And, to be honest, I felt a bit that way about him myself; we'd joke around, and basically live our own lives, but I always felt that little bit protective of him. He was a nice kid, but quite young for his age.

Maybe because of this, although I was conscious of Pete's good looks, I never really gave him a second thought in that kind of a way. Not at first, anyway. About the middle of October, we had a really warm spell of weather, after an unseasonably chilly Summer, and Pete took to walking around the house in his boxer shorts. That subtly muscled body I'd admired at the poolside started to be a daily part of my life. I also noticed how one particular pair of boxers allowed his manhood to swing provocatively against the fabric as he walked. Another, tighter pair gaped slightly at the fly when he sat down, revealing a tantalising glimpse of dark hair inside. Being a joiner, he worked up quite a sweat at work, and would always have a bath or shower as soon as he got in. And, I soon realised, he never locked the door. The catch on the bathroom door was slightly awkward, and often didn't fasten properly if left unlocked, so sometimes the door would drift slightly ajar. One day, it had done so and I happened to be going up the stairs just as Pete had got out of the tub, and I was treated to a brief glimpse of his nicely rounded bottom as I hurried to my room. My curiosity began to be aroused!

Just into November, and Peter's car had broken down. I agreed that if he got up early, I'd drop him off at his workplace on my way to my own. 7am, and no sign of Pete; I'd better give him a knock. I was greeted by a muffled "Yeah?", and poked my head round the door.

"Rise and shine, sleepy head" I smiled, taking in the almost childlike quality of his face as he blinked himself awake. "If you want a lift, you've got 20 minutes."

Peter sat up in bed, stretching and yawning. As he did, I couldn't help but noticing that not only was he not wearing anything from the waist up, but, looking down his gracefully arched back, his cute little bum was also naked, the top of his rounded buttocks standing out pale and white against the tan of his back, the dark shadow of the cleft just visible above the mattress.

Pete smiled, "Oh, sure. Thanks. What time is it?" "Just gone seven." My eyes were still lingering on his rear. "Oh sorry, must have forgot to set my alarm; I was a bit tired last night." "Yeah, it was a bit of late night."

Neither of us seemed in any hurry to end the conversation, and we chatted aimlessly for a couple of minutes. Then Pete stretched again, and with a sudden burst of energy, threw back his duvet. Hurriedly, I muttered something about putting the kettle on, and was out the door in a flash; I didn't want to see anything that we both might regret!

A couple of days later, I had the morning off and lay in bed listening to Peter getting ready to leave. Like him, I didn't wear anything in bed, but was slightly more coy about my body - at least when anyone else was in the house. I'll just wait til he's gone, then wander across and get a shower, I thought. Then I heard the front door close, jumped out of bed and headed for the bathroom, not bothering to grab my dressing gown from behind the door. Just as I'd got through the door, lo and behold, Peter dashed out of his room and headed down the stairs, and suddenly, there he was staring me straight in the privates. Blushing, I headed straight on for the bathroom, muttering a hasty "G'morning Pete!" "Morning, big boy, " I heard him grin as he carried on down the stairs and out the front door.

Well, I can tell you, this little encounter gave me something to think about as I lathered myself down, which proved quite stimulating, if you get my drift!

Well, by now, I was starting to see my young lodger in quite a different light. When I began decorating my bedroom, I slept a few nights in the study, the door of which was directly opposite the bathroom. One night, I'd gone to bed pretty late, and must have disturbed Pete on the way, because just as I got into bed, I heard him get up and head for the loo. My curiosity was aroused. I knew he slept in the buff - had he stopped to cover himself up? Quickly and quietly I eased the door open a crack, and waited for the bathroom door to open, then peered out to see what I could see. For a moment, Peter's short frame was silouhetted against the light from the bathroom door. I could just make out that he was naked, but the details were not really visible. Then the light went out and I blinked through the darkness to try and make out something more; was that the shadow of his hand in front of him, or something more intimate? Frustratingly, I really couldn't tell. But it certainly gave my mind something to play with as I crept back beneath the covers - and my hand as well!

After this, getting a good look at Peter's willy became almost an obsession with me. Everytime he was in the shower, I'd find excuses to go past up to my room or linger on the stairs, dusting the handrail, in the hope of catching a glimpse through the crack of the door. Whenever Peter came out of his room in the morning, I'd just happen to be coming out of mine, or heading up the stairs, in the hope that he hadn't dressed yet. But somehow it never worked out.

Then, just before Christmas, I got my wish, but totally by accident. I came home from work about 4pm - a full hour and a half before Peter's knocking off time. I was bursting for the loo, and ran straight upstairs and into the bathroom. As I burst through the door, I realised someone was in the bathtub. Of course, it was Pete!

"Oh, sorry!" I blurted, backing hastily out and shutting the door. "That's okay," he called. "Did you want the loo?" "Yeah, but never mind, I can wait." "No, don't worry; if you like I'll pull the curtain across and you can come on in. As long as it's not a number two!" He laughed. I hesitated a moment, but I really was close to wetting myself. "Okay then. If you're sure." "No probs!"

I heard the sound of the shower curtain pulling across, opened the door and headed for the loo. As I unzipped my jeans, I could feel my manhood stiffening slightly at the thought of taking a leak so close to the object of my growing desire. Down boy! I told myself, or you'll never be able to pee! Even though I knew Pete couldn't see anything from behind his curtain, I was careful to stand at an angle so my back was firmly towards him. The urine hitting the water in the bowl sounded like the roar of a waterfall. It seemed to take forever, then a quick shake, zip up and quickly rinse my hands... As I turned, to my amazement, the curtain swished back, and Peter's smiling face peered round.

"That was a piss and a half!" he grinned. "You gonna cook tea, or shall I?"

I'm not sure what I answered, but, as Pete leaned back in the bath my eyes were irresistably drawn down his chest, along the thin line of hair on his belly to the circle of dark curly fuzz below and, through the thin film of soap bubbles, I could just make out the pinkish shape of his youthful cock, not that big, but enticing nonetheless. I guess he can't have missed the direction of my gaze, for he shifted slightly, picking up his soap and flannel and began washing his leg, obscuring my view.

His smile seemed slightly nervous as he said "You just caught me playing with the soap!"

I wasn't quite sure how to take this, and was suddenly aware of the bulge that must be geting visible in my jeans, so just mumbled something and left the room. Well, I breathed, at last! Now I wonder how I can get a proper look!

The inspiration came a day or two later. Somehow we got to talking about keeping fit; hard for me to believe, but Peter reckoned h'd not been getting any exercise outside of work for ages and was getting flabby. I KNEW I was!

"I know!" I said, "There's a new gym just opened down the road; they're advertising half-price membership. Why don't we both go down after Christmas and see about joining?" "Brilliant!" he enthused, "Me and my brother used to work out a bit when we went to the caravan with mum and dad, but I haven't done anything for ages. That'd be cool!"

Not half! I thought. The idea of watching Pete flex his muscles in the weights room was appealing enough, but, of course, gyms also meant showers - and those who train together, shower together! An approving tingle stirred between my legs.

"Okay; it's a deal!"

Next day, Pete left to stay with his dad in Newbury for Christmas. Remembering the afternoon in the bathroom, I handed him a small parcel as he left; inside was a rubber duck!

I had to work most of Christmas, but Pete had the whole week off, and it was January 1st before he came back.

"How was your Christmas?" I asked, as we settled down in front of the telly. "Okay, I guess, "he said "We all went over to my gran's for lunch." He broke into a sheepish grin. "And you," he said, throwing a cushion at me, "I could kill you!" "What have I done?" I asked, genuinely perplexed. "That flipping duck!" he said. "I could have died." "What d'you mean?" ""We always take our presents to grans and open them all together after dinner. Kind of a family tradition." It began to dawn on me, as I remembered the message I'd written on the gift tag - "Thought you needed something else to play with in the bath!" "Good job you'd added '..other than the soap!'" He chuckled. "Prat!"

Before Pete had gone home, we'd agreed that we'd start decorating his room when he got back, so at the weekend, we needed to clear all the stuff out.

"But where do we put it all?" he asked. "Well," I said, an idea taking shape in my head. "You could pile all the junk in my room and sleep on the sofa bed in the study. But there's not a lot of room, and I need to get in to use the computer. Or you could put most of it in the study, and sleep in the spare bed in my room. It's up to you, I'm easy either way." "Okay," he said, "In that case, I'll take the bed. Give us a hand to shift the drawers."

That night, we both headed up to bed at the same time. Pete went to the bathroom on the way up, then I followed. As I went into the bedroom, he was still fully clothed, sorting out some of his gear ready for the morning. I started to undress, folding my clothes carefully over the arm of the chair in the corner between our two beds, which were in opposite corners of the room. There were butterflies in my stomach as I wondered what we were both going to wear in bed. Would Pete show some modesty for once and keep on his boxers? Had I the nerve to take off my own underwear, despite the dawning sense of excitement in my groin? As I folded my jeans, Pete started taking his shirt off and placed it on the other arm of the chair. I took a deep breath, Oh well, I thought, maybe if I go first...? I moved over to my corner of the room, turned to face the bed and quickly whipped off my shorts, throwing them onto the chair as I rapidly leaped under the covers. As I looked up to see Peter taking off his own trousers, I could feel my growing semi against my legs. Well, would he follow my lead? Probably at best he'd sit on the edge of the bed and slip them off so I couldn't see anything. Then to my amazement, still standing directly in front of the chair, Pete slipped down his boxers, kicked them off and bent to pick them up. I got a full view of his muscular, perfectly rounded butt, the crack opening slightly as he bent, to reveal a faint fuzz of hair, with just a glimse of his pinkish-brown ball-sack hanging quite low between his legs. My dick was rapidly approaching its full 7½ inches! Now he'll sidle across to the bed and get in, I decided. But, no, to my utter delight Pete quite slowly and deliberately turned to face me and I got the full benefit of his youthful manhood - getting in practice for tomorrow evening at the gym, I mused. Though no monster, it was larger than it had seemed that day in the bath, the contours of the bell-like head clearly outlined through the skin of the enveloping flap, and curved gracefully down, slightly proud of his ample balls, encircled by quite a full thatch of mousy brown hair.

"Goodnight, Andy," He smiled as he circled round and crawled under the covers. "G'night Pete, " I replied, my right hand gently massaging my now almost fully erect manhood, holding it down between my legs to avoid creating too obvious a tent in the covers. I shifted my position and switched off the lamp beside my bed. Somehow, I couldn't see myself getting much sleep tonight, as I listened to the gentle breathing of the gorgeous young guy just a couple of yards across the room. I heard him shifing position, "You tired, Andy?" he asked. "Not really," I replied. "Me neither. It's tomorrow we go to the gym, isn't it?" "Yup. We're booked in for 7 o'clock." "Right. I'd probably best meet you there straight from work." "Sure, no problem. D'you want me to bring your gear with me, save you taking it all to work with you?" "Cheers, mate. I'll leave my bag on the bed." "Don't forget your towel and stuff," I reminded him. (No, definitely don't forget that!) "I won't. I wonder if they have a sauna? That was always the best bit when we went at the caravan." "Yeah, they have. The guy showed me when I went to book." "Oh, great. It's not a mixed one, is it?" "Nah, it's in the men's changing room." "That's okay then. They were mixed at the caravan. But I s'pose that didn't matter there."

I didn't mention, did I, that Peter's family caravan was at a Naturist Club? The thought of him frolicking in the buff with all those other naked folk brought my cock jerking to attention.

"By the way, " I said, "I've always wondered, At those Clubs, do you do EVERYTHING naked, or what?" "No," he chuckled, "People always think that. But it's not like in the Carry On films. They don't confiscate your clothes at the gate! You can keep your clothes on all the time if you want - tho' if you never stripped off folk'd start getting a bit suspicious that you're just there to perve on them. Mostly people just strip off in the pool and that. Tho' some of the old geezers wander round in the buff all day. Not a pretty sight!" "Oh, that's all right then. I've been on a few nudist beaches and I don't have a problem with that. Seems pretty natural to take you gear off when you're in and out the water. But the idea of cooking and eating in the nude does NOT appeal - not very hygenic, for one thing!" Simon laughed, "You're right! When we went to France, there was a supermarket on the site, and half the folk went round there starkers. I mean to say, you never knew what might get in your sausages!" We both laughed. I found this talk quite a turn on, and was gently rubbing away at myself under the covers as we talked. "Mostly I only ever stripped off in the pool. Or sunbathing as well. But always by the pool, then if things got too exciting you could always dive in and cool off - you know what I mean?" "I have an idea!" I mused, wondering if perhaps Pete was as 'excited' as me at this very moment. "Did that happen often?" "Not that much, though it's a bit of an effort sometimes keeping everything under control. Particularly when you go somewhere different and see new people. Somehow if you've seen it all every weekend for years it's not such a turn on. But I remember the very first time me and Michael decided to go for it. We'd dared each other, but we were so nervous; it took us forever to take off our trunks. Then we had to spend about an hour in the pool before we could get out - you know? But after that it wasn't so hard (if you'll pardon the expression!). And even if things did get a bit ..er .. out of hand, nobody took much notice; these things happen. Just as long as you don't rub it in people's faces!" "I should hope not!" We both snorted like schoolboys. "Not very British!" "Definitely not cricket!" "Now there's a painful thought! Some of the lads used to play tennis in the nude, but they were never as good as the ones who kept their shorts on. I only tried it once, when it was raining, and I soon realised why!" "New balls please!" "Exactly! Ah well, I s'pose we'd better get some sleep" "I guess, g'night now!" "Sweet dreams!"

He had to be taking the mick! All that talk had certainly given me plenty to dream about, but at that moment sleep was the last thing on my mind. The raging in my groin just wasn't going to give up it seemed. Fortunately, soon the sound of heavy breathing told me that Peter had drifted off to sleep, and, as quietly and steadily as I could, I went to work at bringing myself some relief. Actually, it was quite an erotic experience, stroking long and slow while listening to my roommate's breathing for any signs that might suggest he was wise to my little game. When I eventually came, in a series of long depth-quivering squirts, I wished I hadn't been so scrupulous about tidying my undies away: now I'd have to scrub down the mattress in the morning!