Son of the Cobbler

By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM

Through the snow and snowflakes Thomas struggled, painful step by painful step, his shoes were worn and holes let in the snow which melted against his feet and soaked his socks which were already soaked and so cold they threatened to freeze upon his poor, cold feet. His legs were buried up to above his ankles with every step and the nightfall meant the snow was coming down even harder, he had spent most of the day struggling from his parents' lonely hut to this village, for they were dead, all of them except he, his mother and father, his two aunts and his uncle, his brother and sisters, all dead and only he was left, and he was seven years old, and he had to find a new home, someone to feed him and take him in, become a servant to them, if they had room, a few scraps and a place to sleep on their floor, some rags to wear, that would be enough, if anyone had that much to offer him.

It was a forlorn hope for him, for this was Year of Our Lord 1349 and the land was in the grip of the Black Death which had chewed up the country since last summer and famine had followed for lack of people to tend the fields and flocks, and everyone was clinging to what little stores they had left, but his only hope lay in these few houses and these few stores, if he could but find a patron, a protector, among them, he would live and if not...he would die this night.

His nose felt frozen and so did his ears, his very body was feeling stiff all over as he reached the first house.

His knock on the door resulted in a timid lifting of the curtain and then it dropping and a sudden extinguishment of the candle that lit the window there, making the house seem empty and cold. The message was clear...nothing for him here, go away.

The next house he struggled to was much the same, the window shutters were closed and there was no answer though he battered several times, then a voice inside hollered, "Go away, go away!" He went away.

The third door had a sign above it, some small business, the wind of the blizzard which was beginning was knocking the sign about so much he couldn't read it. He knocked on the door a few times and then, the cold overcame him and he slumped down against the sill, he could go on no more, either this person took him in or in the morning they would find his lifeless body on their doorstep, frozen stiff, they would have him thrown up on the wagon of the corpse collector the next time he came this way. From there, they would take him to the mass graveyard Thomas had heard about where there was a fire kept burning, where the bodies blazed away night and day, just bodies and bones, bodies and bones...and darkness fell.

He felt himself moving, and he was warmer, he had been picked up and was being carried inside by a pair of strong hands, and he opened his eyes and looked up into the concerned face of a strong, handsome looking man. He had been saved. "Easy, child, easy. Here sit by the fire and get warm."

He was placed on a stool and the fire was warm, so warm. The man, large for the times at five foot nine, stooped down and took off his shoes and then his socks, wrung them dry and hung them on a rope he had near the fire, so they would dry.

A bowl was filled from the pot hanging over the fire and it was thrust into his hands, he supped it and it was soup, mostly vegetables but it was warm and filling and he supped at it gratefully, it burned his tongue but that was a glorious feeling to have after so much cold and so little food.

Into his other hand he was given a slice of hard bread, and he dipped it into the soup to soften it and ate it that way, so good to have food, real food.

He ate steadily until it was gone and then, his belly filled, he looked at his benefactor with gratitude. The man was in his latter twenties, with a clean face unmarked by the pockmarks of plague or other illnesses that had marred so many, a few of his countrymen seemed to have this "natural immunity" (Thomas himself seemed to have it) and he was healthy and boisterous and strong and he smiled down at the small lad who was seven but poor food and life up until then gave him the body of a five-year-old in better years. "Thank you so much, sir, I am Thomas of the Westbrook and my family is dead and I am in your debt for your food and shelter." He stopped at that.

"I am Roger the Cobbler and this is my home and my shop. There is little demand for shoes so I am here alone for most of my days and nights, but you are welcome to stay here and share what little I have," he offered, and I realized he felt alone as much as me.

"I would be grateful to share though I have nothing to offer you but my company," Thomas said, trying to keep his weary eyes open, but he ended those words with a long, loud yawn. "I would be, that is, were I not weary with walking, for I came from over two leagues to walk here, and I had no food since yesterday until your good soup and bread, and now I am more than weary."

"If you walked from Westbrook then you have walked very far for a lad of your age, and I understand, come, my bed is small but I will share it with you this night and we can keep each other warm through this cold night though the fire may burn low.

"I am grateful but my clothes, now that I am warm, are wet from the snow as my socks." Thomas demurred.

"Take them off and we can hang them from the fire. I have blankets enough to cover the two of us during the night anyway, we need not sleep in clothes," he offered.

Sleeping nude was common enough though not with strangers but Thomas hoped to not be this man's stranger for long, he decided to comply without comment or bashfulness. Let Roger see him as much as he wanted to.

But Roger was busy with the blankets and Roger was in bed before he looked up and Roger lay down on his pillow and covered Thomas and the boy was asleep before Roger could pull the second blanket over them.

Thomas woke up to find Roger's arms and body all around him, the boy felt so warm and comforted and secure like never before in his life. The boy might have been a penniless ragamuffin knocking on the man's door, but Roger had seen the lad as the very answer to his prayers. They each had something to give each other, the boy realized in a flash of recognition and sighing, he fell asleep again.

The boy woke up to find Roger preparing a rare feast, a small portion of ham was roasting over the fire. This was a prize in these famished times, Thomas realized Roger must have been flush with money before the Plague to have these provisions at this time. Or he had stores which he was using (modestly) to feed them both this morning.

Dressed as yet only in their loin wraps which were worn under outer clothing, they split the piece of ham, and had that with some bread and more of the soup, it was common to fix such a pot of food and to eat it for every meal until it was all used up. But the boy ended with a full stomach again and Roger said, "Now, my dear young Thomas, what shall we do this morning?"

Roger was sitting on the chair he kept for the customers while Thomas sat on the stool. The fire, which Roger had built up from the embers of the night before, made dancing arcs of light on his muscles in the dimly lit room, for the outside was still in a blizzard and the daylight was dim and poorly lit. There would be no customers for the cobbler today.

So in response to Roger's question, Thomas smiled and stood, took off his loin wrap and stood nude before the man, his little prod stiff as a board and said, "I know a fun game we can play if you would like." Without waiting for an answer, he got back into the bed, atop the covers which Roger had carefully arranged neatly and lay on his back, and waited.

Roger looked at the boy with his small peter sticking up for about five seconds, transfixed, and then he jerked to his feet, ripped off his loin wrap with a rapid, almost fierce motion, and nearly ran for the bed and piled atop the boy who giggled as the man quickly crawled atop him and began to kiss him ardently and quickly, over and over again. The kisses were warm and frantic and hungry and rushed, landing all over his face and his upper body. Thomas held the man's head without trying to control it, and laughed as the man's kisses tickled him more than anything else. When the kisses worked their way down to his little pecker and Roger's lips closed on Thomas' small dong, Thomas gasped and moaned, for the pleasure that his mouth wrought upon him was unlike anything he had expected. Thomas, despite his aggressive actions (which were borne in part from his need to be adopted by this man into his home) had thought only to have a game of pumping each other's willies with their hands, it was all he had ever done, and the lips were a novel and exotic experience for him, and he groaned and gasped as the man worked his lips up and down in an excessive need to draw all of Thomas' body into his own by some manner.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, pray, surcease, dear Roger, give me a moment, pray!" Thomas begged the man. Roger, his eyes glazed looked up, confused. "I wish to give you the joy you give me, let me turn so I may reach your own manhood and repay you in this same manner."

Understanding now, Roger smiled, and said, "Of a certainty, dearest Thomas, I was not certain you were ready for such a thing but if you are certain, I readily accept."

Roger's bed was rather small, roomy enough for one but small for two, but Roger turned onto his side and Thomas was then able to scramble around on the bed and soon they were head-to-crotch and Thomas was eagerly providing his new mentor with every ounce of the energy and vigor that the meal and rest had provided him. He had the man's actions on his own member to guide him in how to proceed, and he did a creditable job, and Roger was groaning as much as his young protégé, for both were in rapt ecstasy and delight for they each had a basic desire for the other that was more than mere lust, and that added to their energy and need and boiled into a mixture that had both man and boy in an urgent ecstasy that sent both into a frenzy of nursing the other's dongs and their own bodies into a fiery maelstrom of sexual furor that soon burst forth through into completion through orgasm.

Thomas hit it first as he shook with the boyish quivering that was the young outward display of climax. "Ohhhh, ohhhh, ohhhh, ohhhh, OHHHHHH, OHHHHH, OHHHHH, OHHHH, OHHHHHHHHHHHHH, OHHHHH, ohhhh, ohhhhh, ohhhhhh, ohhhhhh!" he groaned, his young orgasm shaking him like a rag shakes in a windstorm.

When done, he was silent again, having held on valiantly to Roger's dong all the time he was climaxing, and when he caught his breath, he resumed his oral assault upon Roger's hard branding iron of manhood and he milked it speedily and in less than a minute of his resuming, Roger was writhing with his own impending climax.

"Oh, oh, Thomas, I am near, I am near, my delight is about to expend itself, choose, my little one, do you wish to pull away, if so, I shall not complain!"

"Nu-uh!" was all Thomas said while continuing his ministrations.

"Very well, AHHHHHH!, I am lost and can withhold myself no more!" Roger gasped, "For good or ill, here it is! AHHHH-AHHHHH, GUH-HUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Roger's discharge of his semen was a heavy rush of long-withheld richness, for he was a man who rarely took himself in his own hand, finding it a pitiful and miserable way to pleasure himself, and the pleasures of the few whores in the village were of no value to him. So he had been long frustrated and now he had this boy in his bed, a willing, charming, delightful boy, who wanted him as much as he wanted the boy, and truly this was for him a wish come true, and all of that was in his expulsion of his orgasmic flow.

The powerful jets of white joy were for Thomas like a washing away of one life and the beginning of another, and he drank of this strongly flavored, creamy, slippery life-giving liquid and felt in it the power of a new joy and new strength and he gulped anew and kept every droplet of this copious creamy goo from escaping his lips and all of it ended up inside of him, making him in this way a part of Roger's very self.

Done, they sighed and the warmth of the fire soothed them and the blizzard was less of a threat than it was a concealing cloak that kept them private throughout the day.

Roger showed Thomas his rather well-stocked larder of food and his store of fine leathers and other items for the making of shoes. "I am the younger child of a nobleman and since I did not wish to marry into another family and become an idle retainer, I chose to learn the trade of a cobbler and my father gifted me the money to buy all this and I came here and set up this shop only last spring before the plague came and none knew what was in all the boxes I brought here for I kept it all secret and unloaded in the deep of night with men from out of town. So none know I am any but a poor cobbler suffering as much as they and that is my protection and now it is yours as well."

"If you permit me, I will stay with you and become a cobbler, too."

Roger smiled, "I shall be happy to teach you all that I have learned."

"In every way, I hope." Thomas smiled and looked at the bed.

"I promise."

Roger was gentle and slowly stretched Thomas' anus using plenty of goose grease, but there came a time when he was ready to enter the boy's ass.

They started this after breakfast when a new storm had entered on the tails of the old and the town moaned under the new travails it was facing, and Thomas lay on the bed with Roger atop him with his cock fully greased and Thomas gently wrapped his legs around the man's slim waist and his arms around Roger's broad, powerful chest.

"Are you ready, my beloved?" Roger asked him.

"I am ready, my dearest heart," Thomas answered.

Roger gently pushed his cock up against the small but dilated sphincter and pushed against it. There was only the smallest resistance as he pressed his glans into the orifice and his shaft followed as easily as could be expected with such a small child. Thomas was so trusting of his adult lover by this time that he had no problems borne of reluctance or fear, he trusted Roger utterly. Roger was well imbedded when he stopped and he panted, said, "Now I should rest here a moment...."

"No!" Thomas interjected. "I can wait no more, please, my love, I am ready, proceed, I shall tell you if it hurts!"

"Very well," Roger began to move slowly, but Thomas only moaned in his pleasure and his movements were for joy not for discomfort. He held Roger tighter and began to move to help the man thrust into him deeper and smoother, and they moaned together, their bodies in synchronization and their joys in harmony and their souls interlinked, two hearts becoming one, a marriage in a way that mere words and ceremony cannot match or hard laws and penalties can ever tarnish. Love is love and the forms of it are irrelevant and immaterial, it is and it will always be, and once it exists, it is divine.

That spirit flowed into them and they fed upon it and their bodies moved faster and their voices gave voice to their delight in the mundane way that is all the larynx can provide.

"Uhhhh, uhhhh, uhhhh,, uhhhh, uhhhh, uhhhhh!' Roger grunted as he pummeled at Thomas' ass.

"Ahhhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh!" Thomas groaned as he was dashed with every thrust and his entire body shook from the impacts.

"Huh-uh, huh-uh, huh-uh, huh-uh, huh-uh!" Roger began to jab into Thomas even harder as his climax climbed upwards inside of him.

Ah-huh, ah-huh, ah-huh, ah-huh, ah-huh, ah-huh!' Thomas was jolted from the shocks of this harder assault upon his bowels, but it was good, so good, for that hard cock was brushing his prostate with every thrust, and these imperious jams into him were making him glow just as much as they were pleasing the cock's master with every jab.

Roger was climbing the mountain of ecstasy with every movement and he gasped as he moved, "Oh, oh, Thomas, I am near, my love, how do you feel?"

"I am near as well, I am waiting to join you," Thomas admitted.

"I am honored, for you need wait no more, for I am here, I am...HERE! AHHH-AHHHH-AHHHH!"

"UHHH-UHHH-UHHHH!" Thomas echoed him in concert.

"AHHH-HAHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGG!"

"UHHH-HUHHHHHHHHHHNNNNNNNNNNN!"

Man and boy, they both arced in their ecstasy and as Roger burst his hot load into Thomas' warm bowels, Thomas shook and shivered and for the first time in his life, his small dick squirted a small amount of clear liquid out to splatter against Roger's stomach in return as both of them were lost in the majestic oblivion of total joy that blots out everything but itself, both space and time are meaningless and the cosmos quits turning for those few precious seconds of time, and man and God are one and the same once again since the time before the human was spun off to become his own soul and to live his own life.

This was only the start for these two. Roger taught Thomas the craft of cobbling and the boy showed an amazing talent for the craft for one so young. Roger himself had been taught by master craftsmen and his shoes were made for the most noble of men and were of the highest quality and style. Between Roger's fine leather stock and knowledge, and Thomas' rare gift, when the plague passed and the town revived and came back to life with spring and summer, they found the small shop was laden with the many beautiful shoes of a quality that they had never seen in such a humble shop before. None could believe that this was the work of one man and a boy and they felt it must have been magical and as storytellers do, they began to come up with their own tales of how this had happened, and so was born the tale of: