Usual Disclaimer: If you are not of an age to read this because of the laws of your country or district please desist. If you are a bigot or prod-nosed fundamentalist of any persuasion find your monkey-spanking literature elsewhere and keep your predilections and opinions to yourself. Everyone else welcome and comments more than welcome.
This is a very long tale. It unfolds over a good number of years. What is true, is true: what is not is otherwise.
ALADDIN'S AWAKENING
By
Joel
CHAPTER 21
Saturday April 8th 1944
I was wakened by the strange sound of running water. I stared over towards the sink and in the semi-gloom could see a naked body standing there. I surfaced then remembering it was Mike and had instant thoughts of the night before. I watched as he washed himself all over and when he'd finished drying himself he turned and saw me staring at him.
"Hi, Jacko, d'you mind if I put on the light? I need a shave."
"No. What's the time?"
It was still very dark, made even more so by the black-out curtains.
"About seven, but I want to get to confession before things are ready."
Odd, I thought, have a daily wank, toss your friends off and then confess 'cause it's all a sin! I was glad I didn't have to confess, except to my diary!
The light clicked on and Mike came and stood by the bed. I looked sideways at him and surveyed the long, slender cock dangling between his legs.
"Will Jamie and Bernie Gould be there?" I asked.
"I expect so, and Pat Halloran and Vince," he replied.
"Why Vince, he didn't go to Fensham?"
"You don't think he hasn't been busy over the past week, eh? And I expect there will be a few more with bad consciences."
I reached out and ran a finger from the root to the end of his rod. He jerked away.
"Don't do that now, Jacko," he hissed, "I haven't got time. Wait until tonight!"
I nonchalantly slipped my legs out of the bed and lifted my own limp tool and began to pull the foreskin up and down.
"No, Jacko, don't tempt me now! You're a randy little devil at the best of times!" he said with a grin putting out a hand and stroking my face, "Anyway, your face-pack last night has given you a nice complexion! All my sisters and Vince's will fall for you, so watch it!"
I stuck my tongue out at him trying to think what I could do to him in retaliation, but failed. He turned away back to the sink and finished his ablutions. I got back into bed and waited until he was dressed and ready to go.
"I'll see you in church!" he said as he waved and left the room.
I fell asleep again and was rudely woken by Ma banging on the door telling me it was well past nine o'clock and I'd better start getting up and making myself presentable. Why? The wedding wasn't until twelve and it was less than half an hour's walk to the Catholic Church! I did as I was told, washing myself very carefully, especially my face, inspecting it to see no crusty spunk was left on it. I put my pants and shirt on, then thought I'd better check the bed for any incriminating signs. Good, nothing, but as I smoothed out the bottom sheet I found five long, curly, gingery hairs. I must have combed them out of Mike's prick hair when I was playing around last night. I carefully picked them up and put them in an old copy of Just William stories on my shelf. Perhaps, as well as a collection of cousinly come, I might start a collection of hair from around pricks I have known!
Both Pa and I passed Ma's inspection and he was instructed not to light his pipe at the reception until he saw others were smoking. There were a good few people going into the church as we approached and we were directed to the bride's side. I hadn't been in a Catholic church before so I spent some time looking at the various statues and pictures and then looked around for the boys. There was no sign of Mike or Vince. Then the organ started and two soldiers with sergeant's stripes came down the aisle and sat in front seats. The big one must have been Eamonn and the slightly shorter one his best man.
Suddenly everyone stood up and the organ played a march-like tune and up the aisle came a procession led by a boy in a red cassock, and what looked like lace curtains, carrying a big silver cross. He was followed by two others and two priests dressed similarly and then the bride and Dr. O'Brien. It was only when the boys turned when they reached the front that I realised it was Pat Halloran carrying the cross and Mike and Vince with smoky canisters and books. I was too fascinated with those three bobbing around, swinging smoking pots, holding books and ringing bells to take much notice of the actual wedding. I did have a surreptitious look around at one point and glimpsed a row of spotty boys and recognised Bernie from Mike's drawing. The service went on and on but I was quite engrossed with the happenings that the time flew and I was only aware of Pa fidgeting just before the priest gave a long blessing in Latin. No wonder Vince was good at it!
The reception was in the parish hall and soon after we had filed in past the bride and groom I was thumped on the back by a very convivial Mike now dressed conventionally in a smart suit.
"Come on," he said very jovially, "You're sitting with the younger end, your mum and dad are with the grown-ups!"
I eyed him up and down. "I liked the lace curtains better!"
He gave me an evil grin and muttered something like "I'll deal with you later!" before turning and walking across the room.
I followed him and found my place was set between Maureen and Vince's sister Eileen. Oh dear! I needn't have worried because Vince, Mike, Bernie and Pat were also there as well as three other sisters of Mike and Vince to keep us in order. Maureen was very inquisitive and kept asking if I liked Mike's drawings. It was as if she knew he had drawn me in the nude. I wondered if I might drop a hint, but I thought better of it.
Pat had a large scratch down the side of his nose which caused everyone else a lot of amusement. I said it was a pity there wasn't St Johns on Monday or I could have practised putting a bandage on it. I got a joyful thump on the knee from Maureen for that and a dig in the side from Eileen. I also got the beginnings of a hard-on. I thought I'd better keep quiet or I might have a real stiffy with any more battering.
The food was good and there seemed to be a realisation that to keep the younger ones occupied they should be given plenty to eat. Mercifully, the speeches didn't go on for long and at four o'clock the ceilidh started. I stood around with the four boys and listened in to their conversation. I found out from Vince he was well enough now to be back at school after the holiday. As he wanted to know what we'd done while he was away we arranged that he would come round when I got home from Ulvescott. I also found out Pat was older than I thought and was in the Fifth Year and nearly sixteen. He wasn't much taller than me whereas Vince was now quite a bit taller.
I saw Mike and Bernie disappear off several times and Vince whispered they were having a drink with Eamonn and his pals. I must confess I followed Mike later out to the side room twice and was given a glass of something sweet and potent each time. Pa and Ma seemed quite merry too and, after a great deal of singing and dancing, somewhere around nine o'clock I was called over to say goodbye as it was time for me and Ma to go home with the great-aunt and uncle and the old lady. Pa said he would see Mike got safely home and we set off. Ma held on to my arm pretty tightly and kept saying she'd had a lovely time. I think she had, seeing the number of times I'd noticed her glass being filled. The great-aunt was a bit squiffy too and kept burbling on about what a lovely couple Kathleen and Eamonn made while the great-uncle trudged silently along beside the old lady hiccupping slightly every so often. I was also feeling a bit light-headed from my visits to the side room.
When we arrived home Ma and the others said they would go straight to bed and Ma said I could wait up for Pa and Mike who wouldn't be long. How wrong could she be! They arrived home just after midnight! Pa missed the front door keyhole several times before I opened it and said in a whisper that Ma had gone to bed.
He put his fingers to his lips, said something like 'Shush' and stumbled up the stairs. Mike stood very unsteadily on the mat so I tugged him in and closed the door.
"Gosh," he mumbled, "That was a good evening'."
He looked around.
"Where am I?" He looked around again. "Good to see you, Jacko! Time for bed!"
I led him to the bottom of the stairs as he was so drunk he could hardly stagger. At least he was quiet. I was wondering how he and Pa had found their way home when the letter-box flap opened and a quiet whistle came through it.
"Are they OK?" a low-pitched voice whispered, "I got them here alright in the end."
I opened the door. It was Pat Halloran.
"Come in," I whispered back, "You'd better help me up the stairs with Mike."
By this time Mike had slumped on the stairs. We took an arm each side and he was just sober enough to walk up without too much disturbance. We got him into the bedroom and laid him on the bed. I shut the door carefully.
"We can't leave him there like that," I said in a businesslike manner, "Can you help me undress him and get him into bed?"
Pat nodded and we started to take his shoes and socks off. He was gently snoring by now and as we undid his jacket, took his tie off and then rolled him to remove his jacket, shirt and vest, he slept on. I looked at Pat and winked then undid the top of Mike's trousers and unbuttoned his flies. Pat lifted him slightly as I pulled off his trousers and pants and he lolled naked on the bed.
"Holy Mother, look at the lad on him!" Pat said, "I'd only seen him pissing so I didn't know what it was like fully out."
I laughed. Here was an Irish lad describing Mike's lengthy tool as a lad just as Mike had told me his cousins used that word.
"But he won't be pulling that lad tonight!" I said, pointing at his limp dick.
Pat looked at me and then grinned. "Too drunk for that, eh?"
I grinned back. "Let's get him in before it freezes and falls off," I said.
We struggled a bit but managed to get him under the bedclothes. All through this he was quite oblivious and was now sound asleep. I looked at my watch. It was twelve twenty- five.
"Have you got to get home, it's very late?" I asked, "Why don't you stay the night here now?"
He smiled. "Yeah, why not, our lot will still be drinking at home, if they get there! And no one will miss me."
We both undressed swiftly. We stood bollock naked looking at each other. True, he wasn't much taller than me but he had very clearly defined muscles down his chest and stomach which rippled as he moved. I stood as tall as I could and drew my stomach muscles in but I knew I didn't look like that. We matched each other with our jet black hair but, although he had very sturdy legs, they were very smooth and hairless whereas mine now had a good sprinkling of dark hair. However, both he and I had more or less identical black bushes and the same length cocks. He might be seventeen next month but I was his equal there! Where he did win was with his quite sizeable balls, splaying out and hanging much lower than mine. Also, like Matt the Chopper, the left one swung down much more than the right. I pulled the bedclothes down and pointed.
"You hop in first and I'll sleep on the edge!" I whispered.
He slid into bed and I got in beside him. It was a tight fit with the recumbent Mike taking up at least half the bed. But, no sooner was the light out then we were on our sides facing each other with our hands on each other's pricks.
I felt his rod go hard as I grasped his length. I put my hand under his balls and gathered them in my palm. I smiled to myself as 'Here we go gathering nuts in May' sprang to mind. I cupped my hand under his nuts and squeezed them gently. He breathed out deeply. In response he squeezed my rapidly hardening prong and then felt my bollocks too.
"You like this, do you?" I asked in a whisper.
"Need you ask?" was his terse response.
"Mike does," I added.
"I've heard he does. Bernie told me."
"Haven't you done it with Mike, then?"
"No, I've done it with Bernie but I've only seen Mike's lad. It's big isn't it?"
"Yeah, it's very long, but it's not so thick as my friend Matt's. You know, Chopper Ward."
He sniggered. "I saw that at Fensham. It's huge," he said, drawing out the last word. "He was in with that big Buchanan lad so I don't know what happened."
While we were whispering together our hands were gently massaging each other's cocks at the same time. Things were beginning to happen!
"Wait a moment, Pat," I whispered urgently, "I'm nearly ready to come."
I wriggled away from him, almost falling off the edge of the bed, and retrieved my towel from the chair beside the bed.
"Let's put this between us," I said, pushing the towel down towards the bottom sheet. He held my cock again and began to work it up and down. My buttocks began to twitch as spasms hit me under the balls. I squirted spunk all over him. He gasped at this and gasped even more as he came and showered me with spunk.
"That was good," he whispered when he'd got his breath back, "We both make a lot, don't we? I've got your stuff all up to my throat!" He put an exploring hand on my stomach and chest. "And there's plenty of mine on you too!"
I pulled the towel up and wiped us both and then tucked it down again between us. We fell asleep facing each other, an arm over each other's shoulder.
We must have both woken up at the same time as we both started whispering together.
"Are you OK?" we asked simultaneously.
"Did you like it last night?" Pat carried on asking before I could say anything.
"Yeah, I like it every time," I said giving his shoulder a hug. "What do you think of him?" I asked nodding towards the still sleeping Mike.
"Well he did have a skinful last night, but not so much as Eamonn and his pals!" He paused, and sniggered. "I bet Eamonn didn't get his oats last night. He was as drunk as a fiddler's bitch when we left so he wouldn't know if it was arsehole or breakfast time."
Pat certainly had a ripe command of English. He reminded me very much of cousin Alun.
"Poor old Kathleen, I bet she's still a virgin this morning! Have you had your oats yet?" he continued without stopping.
I assumed he meant had I had a fuck. "No, not yet, I don't really know any girls."
"I haven't either and I can't wait to have it in," he said with feeling, "I know plenty of girls but they won't. Like his sister Bridget." He stopped a moment as Mike stirred. "I'd better not say too much or he'll get mad."
Mike's stirrings subsided into slight snores.
"You seemed alright last night, didn't you drink anything?" I asked.
"No, I didn't," he replied emphatically, "Can't abide the stuff. Anyway, I don't want to upset my training, I've got a practice fight on Friday and I've got to be fit."
I moved my arm down and ran my hand slowly over Pat's chest and stomach.
"You've got lots of muscles," I said.
"Yeah, I go down the Mayor's gym twice a week. Tuesdays and Fridays. Mike started me off there 'cause I wasn't very big and he said his dad had sent him there 'cause he was bullied." He laughed. "Fridays I do boxing and I've won all my fights so far so I'm not bullied and I like going there, it's great. There's quite a few of your school go there. You know, the Prossers 'cause the Mayor's their uncle, and Billy Clarke and his friend Paul Wright and that Andy Symes. They're all much bigger than me but my muscles are better."
My recollections of the crowd he'd mentioned were that they were all much bigger than him and, except for Billy who seemed quite muscly to me, Pat's muscles were more visible.
"Anyway, you seem OK, you winning that cup!" he said approvingly. "Those girls were most impressed," he went on, giving me a nudge "You'd be well away there! Play your cards right!"
The cup winning had been mentioned at the table the night before and earned me little crows of congratulations from Maureen and Eileen plus more nudges and digs. Play my cards right? I wondered how?
"I don't know about that," I said dubiously and changed the subject. "What about him?" I nudged Pat, indicating Mike, "He's pretty fit, isn't he?"
"Yeah, and he's tough enough. He walloped one of the prefects in the Sixth-Form last year when he found him tormenting some little kid in the Second Year!" he said admiringly. "Mike gave him a real pasting!"
"Doesn't look as if he's capable of that now," I said, "I shouldn't think he's capable of much at the moment."
"No. He and your dad and the others were downing my Uncle Alfred's poteen last night and that's wicked stuff."
"What's that?" I asked mystified.
"Och, he makes it himself. I shouldn't tell you this 'cause it's all illegal but all the auld fellahs make it over there."
By 'over there' I assumed he meant Ireland.
"But he makes it here?"
Pat nodded and then clammed up. I changed the subject again.
"Do you think he could if we helped him?" I asked, nodding towards the still snoring Mike. "Come on, let's put him on his back and you can see what you can do. You want to, don't you?"
An impish grin spread over Pat's face.
"Och, I've wanted to do it for him for ages. I've never plucked up courage. He's a great fellah and he's been ever so good to me. Anyway, it'll give the auld bugger something to think about when he wakes up. My dad usually sleeps through to Sunday lunch after a session with Uncle Alfred!"
We slipped out of bed and went round to Mike's side. I pulled the bed clothes away from him very carefully. He grunted but carried on sleeping. We turned him so he was on his back where he lay with his mouth open and his cock down between his legs. I lifted it up and massaged it a bit. It stayed limp. I laid it up his belly.
"You have a go," I whispered to Pat.
He put a finger and thumb either side of Mike's rod, just under his naked knob, and began giving him a slow wank. Very slowly his cock lengthened and stiffened and Pat continued with his slow, regular motion of the flesh. Both of us now had hard-ons so, as Pat continued on Mike, I looped my fingers round his shaft and soon he was ready to come. He leaned over Mike as his spunk gushed out and it formed a pool on his stomach. He continued pulling Mike's horny rod and after about five minutes Mike gave a series of grunts as several small squirts of come shot up around his navel. He slept on. Pat let go of his cock and moved me to stand in front of him by Mike's side. I was ready to come by then so it didn't take long before I leaned down and a stream of creamy spunk poured over Mike's chest. We stood and watched as Mike's dick slowly went limp again below a triple helping of spunk spread from belly to chest. It was very noticeable that we both made much more stuff than him. I lifted Mike's hand with no resistance from him at all and put it over his cock. He mumbled something but remained resolutely asleep.
Pat turned to me and put a hand on my arm. "I didn't know it was as long as that!" he whispered admiringly. "Wish mine was!"
"So do I!" I responded with feeling, "Mine's growing though."
Pat looked a little sad. "Mine's been like this for ages."
I'd noticed that although it was the same as mine when limp it was definitely longer when erect.
"But yours got much bigger when it went stiff," I said encouragingly, "Matt's looks about the same whether it's down or up but Mike's does get longer! Anyway, he'll wonder how he shot all that!" I whispered in Pat's ear, "There's another thing, we both shoot lots more than him, don't we!"
Pat nodded, then sniggered, as I carefully put the bedclothes back over Mike.
"Never thought I'd do it to him! Don't tell him yet what happened, will you?" He paused. "I hope he won't be annoyed," he said doubtfully.
I shook my head. I was looking forward to seeing Mike's face when he woke up.
Pat started to collect his clothes together.
"What's the time, Jacko?" he asked.
I looked at my watch on the dressing-table.
"Just gone half-six."
"Nobody'll be awake for hours yet, so I'll be off home now."
"Don't you want to stay and have some breakfast?"
"No, thanks, I'd better be going."
He came over to me and put a hand on my arm.
"It's been great, hasn't it?"
I nodded. It had been. Another to add to my growing list.
"Sorry I blacked your eyes in that game. I know I did it, your head hurt my knee! Friends now, eh?" He squeezed my arm.
I gripped his arm. "Best of friends and try to keep your nose out of trouble too in future!"
He laughed, "Have to watch out for that in the boxing!"
He began by putting on his socks, then his pants. He straightened up.
"Hey, Jacko, you'll pass the exam OK won't you?"
"I hope so, I'm going to learn it all up with Matt when we're at Ulvescott next week."
"He'll pass OK, too?"
"He should do and I think Benno will as well 'cause he's pretty bright."
"You know if you pass you get issued with your uniform tunic and beret, don't you?"
"Yes, your dad said that at the last meeting."
"Shall I bring some round for you to try on the Wednesday?"
"And for Matt?"
His grin almost split his face. "Oh, yes!"
"He'll be here!" I said decisively.
"Goodho! What about the other one, Crabbe?"
"I don't know, I don't think so. Perhaps you ought to arrange it with him."
"OK. About half past two for you and Chopper. No one else at home?"
I shook my head. He continued dressing and when he was ready I slipped on my dressing gown and went downstairs with him and saw him out. The house was silent as I went back upstairs and crept into bed beside Mike again. He slept on as I lay awake and thought about the happenings of the last few hours. I didn't drop off to sleep again so got up just before eight o'clock and washed and dressed as quietly as I could. I heard people trundle along the corridor to the lav at intervals but in between the house was quite silent. There was no sign of Ma being around when I went down to the kitchen and she didn't appear until after I'd made a pot of tea and was making some toast under the grill.
"Oh, I thought I heard you up and about," she said as she came into the kitchen. "Is Mike awake?"
"No, he's still asleep."
"What time did he and your father get home?"
"Oh, about midnight, I think," I prevaricated.
"I was well asleep by then and I never heard them. Your father's still dead to the world. What he had to drink last night I dread to think!"
Plenty of Uncle's Alfred's poteen I thought to myself. Better not enlighten Ma.
"Did Mike see him home, then?" she asked.
"They came home together," I replied noncommitally.
"Oh, good, as long as your father didn't make a fool of himself. I don't want Mrs Peters spreading gossip."
"They were very quiet when I let them in."
I ate my toast and retreated to my bedroom. Mike was still comatose so I didn't disturb him. I thought about Pat and how he got fit and decided to go for a run to pass some time. I stripped off and soon was kitted up in shorts, rugger shirt, pullover and plimsolls and went downstairs again. Ma shrugged her shoulders as I sped through the kitchen and out of the back door. I ran for nearly half an hour and just got back as Duncan was delivering the paper. Dare I ask him about Fensham? No, better not!
"Gosh, Jacko, you are keen!", he said, handing me the paper, "Can't see tired Tom doing it! I've got to go and get the lazy tyke up now as we've got a special church parade today!"
He pedalled off and I went back in to find Ma in deep conversation with the aged relative. Back in my room I changed again and then gathered up Mike's clothes from the floor and put them tidily on a chair. I was just getting some things ready to take to Ulvescott when there were definite signs of Mike surfacing. I went over and stood by him. I poked him gently in the ribs and he grunted. I was going to have some fun now.
"Wake up, Mike, what on earth have you been doing?"
"Wassat," he grunted, "Wassat, what you say?"
A rather red tinged eye opened and fixed on me, at first unsteadily, then he focussed.
"Oh, Holy Mother of God, Jacko, my head!"
"What's the matter?"
He drew out the hand I'd placed strategically over his cock. In doing so he dragged it through the copious pools of spunk. He placed the hand on his forehead and deposited a gobbet of gooey come.
"What the hell!" he expostulated, "My head aches but what's this?"
I stripped the bedclothes back exposing the congealing semen spread all over his torso.
"Goodness, Mike, you have been busy," I said ingenuously, "Have you done this while I've been having breakfast and going for a run?"
"No, I haven't!" he responded testily, sitting up a bit and peering down, "Oh Jesus, my head and look at that!"
"You must have had a wet dream," I said, "All that drink you had last night's made lots of stuff 'cause that's much more than you usually make, isn't it?"
He flopped back and viewed me now with wide open eyes.
"How did I get to bed last night?" he demanded, "I don't remember a thing."
"You and Pa came home together and I put you to bed."
"Did you undress me?"
"Yeah, quite easily, we just rolled you around."
"We? You and your dad?"
I shook my head. Unfortunately without thinking I'd let the cat out of the bag. I'd better tell the truth.
"No, actually Pat Halloran followed you here to see you and Pa were OK.
He stayed the night, but he's gone home now."
"And?" Mike demanded, pointing at his stomach, "This?"
"All three of us," I confessed, "You were dead out this morning so I suggested Pat should experiment on you. I did him the same time he was doing you but he came first so that's all his there." I pointed at his stomach. "You took ages and you only grunted when it shot out. Then Pat did it to me so that's mine up there and that's why there's lots on you."
"Oh," he whistled softly, "You cunning sods. Wait till I feel better and I'll have you and I'll get that Pat Halloran and grind his little bollocks into mincemeat."
"He's got bigger bollocks than you!" I retorted brightly, "And we both shoot lots more than you!"
"Cheeky tyke! You won't be shooting anything when I've finished with you!"
"You and whose army?"
His face crumpled into his familiar smile.
"Oh, come on Jacko, I don't mean it. You two enjoyed it didn't you? And I suppose I did even though I was asleep."
He sat up in the bed and surveyed the fast drying streaks of pearly spunk.
"Where's your towel?" he asked, then grinned at me. "If it's not too damp! I suppose you and Pat last night...?"
"I guess there'll be a dry corner somewhere."
"You're a boastful tyke as well!" he said pursing his lips.
I went to the other side of the bed to get it and handed it to him. He rubbed it all over his torso and then his forehead.
"It'll do your skin good," I said, mimicking his statement to me after liberally plastering my face with come the first night.
"Pah," he replied and flicked at me with the towel. "You and Pat Halloran," he mused, "He blacked your eyes for you, didn't he?"
"Yes, but that was an accident and we're great pals now! I like him ever so much and he thinks you're great, too."
Mike levered himself out of bed and walked somewhat unsteadily to the sink which he filled with cold water. He splashed his face and chest liberally and held out a hand. I passed another towel to him.
"That's a bit better," he murmured, then began the process again.
"He said you sent him to the gym and that's why he's got all those muscles. And he does boxing as well."
Mike straightened up and wiped himself dry again.
"Yeah, I know all about young Pat. He's a good lad except he can't leave it alone so Bernie says." He turned and looked at me and grimaced. "Like the rest of us!"
He pulled the plug and then turned the hot tap on.
"Bernie Doyle lives next door to him and he's known him for years. He helps him with his homework... and other things!"
He turned the hot tap off.
"In fact, Bernie told me that after Pat had the instruction from the curate he asked Bernie what he meant 'cause he hadn't a clue what it was all about and the other lad who was in with him was in the same boat. Bernie said he told him in words of one syllable and then Pat wanted him to show him so he did, but Pat couldn't. Bernie said Pat rushed in all cock-a- hoop some months later 'cause he'd found he could do it and tells Bernie how grateful he was for having it properly explained and so was the other kid."
He dipped his hands into the hot water and quickly removed them, turning the cold tap on briefly before picking up the soap. He turned again to face me.
"I'll tell you something else but you mustn't pass this on. You see, there was a frightful hooha a couple of years ago when Pat was in the Third Year 'cause one of the Brothers caught him tossing himself off in the showers after PT and some of the other lads were watching. He nearly got expelled but Brother Jamieson stopped that because of Al the Stal and he was just given a good telling off and nothing more was said about it."
"What do mean, 'because of Al the Stal'?" I asked.
Mike laughed. "Oh, Al the Stal, that's Alfredo Cametto, you know, he's the son of the people who owned that Italian ice-cream shop in the city that's shut down now."
I nodded. I knew the shop well, but it closed shortly after the war started.
"Alfie isn't quite all there." He made wriggling movements against his head with a forefinger. "You know, a bit daft, so he got stuck in the Fourth Year for years. In fact he left last year when he must have been well over eighteen and he was still in that form. He's quite harmless but he was always in the bogs tossing himself off with prefects telling him to stop, so they couldn't say anything about Pat when he was caught."
"What do you mean by 'Stal'?" I persisted.
Mike snorted and bent his head to me and said through gritted teeth, "The prefects always called him the Italian Stallion because he had a big thick prick and was always at it and that shortened to Al the Stal, simple, eh?"
"Simple like him," I retorted, "But he wasn't short like his name, eh?"
Mike extended a soapy hand and missed my ear by inches.
"Don't interrupt my story or I won't tell you," he admonished, "Do you want to hear about Pat?"
"Yes, of course, but I wanted to know what you meant."
"OK, well, Pat told Bernie a few days later that some of the boys were threatening him. I was round at Bernie's soon after that and Pat came in and Bernie got him to tell me what had happened. We think he did it as sheer bravado 'cause although Pat's older he was smaller than most of the lads in his class at the time so he was just showing them he was as good, or better, than them. He said that some of them were pinching and punching him and saying they would send a letter to his dad and, of course, he was dead scared that his dad would find out. I told him I'd been bullied and my dad had sent me to the gym so I said he should go too and he'd soon learn to stop the bullying so I took him next time I went. He still goes even though I don't."
I nodded, "Yeah, he says he goes twice a week and he's not bullied now 'cause he's good at boxing... ...He told me you beat up some prefect who was bullying a kid last year."
Mike shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the sink.
"The bastard was twisting the poor little bugger's arm for no reason so I whopped him one. He had a sore jaw for a few days I guess, but I don't think he'll do it again."
I watched as Mike carefully washed all down his front, soaping himself liberally.
"Pat's keen on my sister Bridget. He takes her to the pictures sometimes. She's older than he is but she says he's good fun but can't keep his hands to himself!"
"Sounds like he keeps his hands to himself pretty regular," I said.
Mike laughed. "Oh, no doubt! Bernie says he told him once he had to confess to twenty-six times one week!" He turned and winked. "Even the Mighty M O'Brien has never reached that level!"
I thought to myself nor had I, last week's seventeen was my record, so far!
To be continued:
Previous stories of mine have been published on Nifty.
Spying on My Brothers: (45k: Incest Section: Apr 15 2000)
Easter Rugger Tours (Dir: HS Section: Jun 10 2000)
Jordan's Story (84k: HS Section: Jul 23 2000)
Flip's Tale (Dir: HS Section: Apr 17 2002)
Taming the 'Phobes (Dir: HS; Military: August 04 2002)