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 29
Part Two
It seemed to be a nice day, the sun was beginning to rise in an almost cloudless sky. I was happy. I hoped Tom was happy. He had said he liked it here. I knew I did. Musing on this I went into the bathroom and washed carefully and was ready dressed when Tom began to stir. He looked at me and grinned.
"Did you like that last night. Pity you aren't my brother, we could have that every night!"
I sat on the edge of the bed, remembering I'd expressed a similar sentiment to him.
"I thought you already had a brother," I said, "Have you forgotten? Duncan is his name."
"Fool! We've never done anything like that."
"Did you try the other with him?"
I was referring to the fact that he had told me he'd never sucked Dunc and was miffed that Matt had.
He grinned. "Yeah, it gave him a great surprise. I crept in on him Thursday night like I said I would and when he asked me what I wanted I showed him!"
"And...?"
"Nah, he just tossed me off. I think he was rather surprised..."
"Surprised and astonished I would say..."
"He liked it though. I made him pant!"
Funny, as he got out of bed he didn't have a hardon. In fact, he made no effort to grab me or anything. I was dressed anyway but that had never stopped him in the past. My shorts or trousers had been lowered plenty of times now when Tom wanted mutual enjoyment. Anyway, he trundled off into the bathroom and was also washed and dressed when the usual thump at the door announced Bran's arrival and that breakfast would soon be ready.
At breakfast Miss Pike said she and Aunt Mary would be going to church but would we take half-a-dozen eggs to an old lady in the village who was not well. We readily agreed as neither of us were too keen on going to church. Tom had said he was OK when it was Boys' Brigade but he hated long sermons and the vicar at Ulvescott usually droned on for ages - at least that was what Elizabeth had intimated the night before.
So, we set off with Bran accompanying us. He led the way and we were in the lane leading to the village very soon having by-passed the church rather rapidly.
We found the old lady's cottage and she said she was most grateful as she'd fallen and damaged her arm. We commiserated and set off back. We thought we would try to enter the Manor grounds another way and found a second path which led into the thick mass of trees which were a feature of that side of the Manor grounds.
We hadn't gone far when Bran pricked up his ears, gave a low growl and bounded off. We followed as fast as we could and came upon a most peculiar sight. There was a young lad, one of the Scouts obviously, shorts and pants down around his ankles with his hands around the bole tied by his neckerchief and his legs apart tied around the base of the tree with string. His Scout shirt was up round his neck somehow. It was Bernie Foster, the naughty twin. He was sobbing and wriggling against the bark of the tree. It didn't take much to see why. He had been tied to the tree in such a way that his cock and balls were against a hole in the trunk and there must have been insects or something living in the hole which were now aggravating his sensitive parts.
Bran had scared the living daylights out of him too as he had bounded up, sniffed his arse and then licked him down his buttocks and legs. Bernie had tried to scream but only a strangled 'Aaaah' had emerged as he was also gagged with a handkerchief.
Tom nudged me to keep silent and crept up behind the poor lad, put his hand round between Bernie and the tree and felt for his prick.
"Christ!" he exclaimed, "The boy's got a hardon. I bet he's losing his virginity to the tree!"
For Tom to come out with such an announcement was a revelation. I didn't even know he knew the word virginity and for making a statement with such pith and wit was also new. Tom usually dealt with simple ideas and this was something new.
I came up behind him and put my hand in the other side. True. Bernie's skinny dong was fully erect, with foreskin back as well. I gave it a few experimental tugs and then moved down and felt his balls. These were drawn up rather tightly in their sack. I then remembered having noticed that both he and his brother did not have dangly balls, both had rosy red, wrinkled ball sacs just below the base of their dicks.
Bran, not to be outdone, licked his buttocks again making Bernie squirm even more. It was then I heard a scurrying in the undergrowth around trees a bit further along the path.
"Find them, Bran!" I instructed the dog. He looked around and lolloped off about ten yards, the scurrying increased and Bran sat and looked.
As I was looking at this Tom had released Bernie's hands and feet and, finally, as the lad turned away from the tree, his erect dick a very angry red, Tom removed the gag.
"What the hell's going on?" demanded Tom. "Why are you fucking the tree? Is it some sort of substitute for that girl I saw you with in the town? Wouldn't she let you?"
Oh, Tom! You do have another side. Also, he hadn't told me about seeing Bernie. When?
Bernie gaped open-mouthed and held onto his erection before he spoke.
"Those buggers in the other tent got me." He pointed somewhere in the vague distance where Bran was sitting. "My lot left me behind to clear up and keep the fire going. Then Clegg and Barnes crept up and wrestled me down and the five of them carried me here and tied me to the tree." He rubbed at the side of his rampant dick again. "And I think I've been bitten!"
His cock was certainly very red and I noticed there were a few ants on the bark of the tree by the hole. Ugh, imagine having ants crawling over your cock and eating you alive!
"I think we were being watched but Bran's scared them off," I said. "Come on, show us where your tent is and we'll check around."
Bran turned and came back to us and sat, still vigilant.
Bernie looked so grateful. Again I was his saving grace, not quite a guardian angel. He hoiked up his underpants and shorts and tucked in his shirt. His woggle had been placed on the ground near the tree so he picked it up and put his neckerchief on and threaded it through the woggle. He looked more presentable then and did have a wry smile on his face, especially as he saw Bran sitting watching him. I did feel sorry for him. He was always being picked on and I wasn't certain why. Even Tom, in the same class as him, never seemed to have a good word for him. I knew his brother Alan was popular - he had run the line with me for the rugger game against the Catholics - but I wasn't aware of any reasons why Bernie was such a scapegoat. Anyway, the poor lad was now so grateful to us he couldn't stop babbling on about the joys of camping and being in the Scouts. I thought, some joy, ending up with your cock being nibbled by red-hot ants!
We did sit and chat with him for some time by the fire which he was supposed to be tending. At last, we said we had to get back and found the path back into the village. I asked Tom why he and the others didn't like Bernie as I found him friendly and quite talkative when I'd met him on his own. Tom said he didn't really know. He said that he was always thought to be the one who got others into trouble. I snorted and said I knew plenty in his class who got themselves into trouble so I expect he was just a scapegoat for their own inadequacies. That was a phrase I liked - old Campion had used it recently when commenting on Cleggy and one of his misdemeanours.
Tom grunted. "True, we generally blame him if something happens. I suppose sometimes it isn't him."
I retorted that it sounded as if it was rarely him and he, Tom, should know better. He was bigger and more sensible than everyone else so he should set an example.
I was on my high horse, I even threw in a reference to being in the Boys' Brigade and didn't that mean something.
Poor Tom. I think I reduced him to a quivering wreck. But, if he wanted me to take over from his brother then I would be his conscience! He gave me a questioning look and was obviously thinking about what I'd said.
"You're right," he agreed, "I'll make an effort. I like his brother, everyone does, so I'll try to like Bernie."
I shut up after that and we plodded on. As we passed Mrs Fry's house we were hailed by young Sam who wanted to know where we had been. We didn't tell him about finding Bernie in his predicament, just that we had met up with him. He said he was a bit put out because he hadn't been able to join in with the Scout camp. He chattered on at we walked to the Manor and I wondered if he would look nice tied up to a tree with Bran licking his bum and me and Tom seeing if he had an erection! Oh dear, what thoughts I was having! I did wonder though what size erection he had now as Roo had said he was quite well-developed even at that last camp when he came for the first time.
I realised after a minute or so that we were taking a different route back. This led out by what seemed a huge field. We skirted this until we came to a gate.
"Short cut this way," explained Sam as he climbed the gate.
Tom peered into the field. There were a lot of cattle, large ones, munching the grass. A couple looked up and stared bovinely at us. I was also atop the gate by then and didn't drop down into the field.
"I'm not going in there," announced Tom, "They look like bulls."
Sam sniggered. "Don't be frightened, they're OK, they're bullocks."
Tom was still hesitant. Sam enlightened him (and me as well but I wasn't letting on!).
"Them's bullocks, no bollocks! Had 'em cut off. They won't harm you. Good fatteners, they are. My uncle's got quite a few on his farm...." He paused. "...They don't half squeal when old Joe cuts their knackers off - I know, I've seen him do it."
I think we both looked at him aghast. I mentally winced and Tom's face was a picture. Sam sensed our squeamishness.
"It's OK, they're only a few days old when they're done. Old Joe says you never miss what you don't have. Wouldn't want mine cut off though...." He looked at us both and grinned. "...Much better with them, eh?"
Cheeky young sod. Tarring us with his own masturbatory brush! True, though!
Less reluctantly we climbed into the field and were quite ignored by the herd. They were much more interested in their feed. I did notice a couple of lengthy cocks protruding but, true, no sign of any pendulous underhanging bollocks.
"See, I told you, they're harmless once they've lost them, but, you've got to watch it though if a bull's in with the heifers. Keep your eye on the undercarriage is the rule!" was Sam's truly rural remark as we reached another gate which led directly into the Manor path.
I don't know if Tom was convinced. I knew I felt safer once out of the field and Sam's last bit of information might be useful in the future! I think we were both ruminating, bull-like, on this as nothing more was discussed until we reached the kitchen entrance.
As soon as we got in we three were sent upstairs to make ourselves tidy ready for lunch and Tom's first meeting with Lady Bing and her daughter. Sam already looked tidy. He said his aunt had threatened him with fire and brimstone if he didn't behave and why couldn't he stay with us overnight?
I wondered about that. Tom was a bit hesitant. I had told him something about that previous camp as it had been described to me. Anyway I thought Sam was a bit young to be in with us. But then, he'd been in the tent with much older lads. I wasn't sure. In any case, Sam was disappointed in his hopes as at lunch he was told quite firmly that he had plenty of things to do at Mrs Fry's and he was not forgiven for letting the bitch out.
Anyway, I was down in the drawing room in good time and was playing through my repertoire - another nice word, Mrs Tring always used it and it sounded posher than saying 'my pieces' - when I heard people arriving. I then played the Brahms piece as best I could and at the end there was a handclap and an elderly voice said 'Bravo'. It was Lady Bing.
Tom had already been introduced to her and the Duchess, and Lady Bing - very spry and 90 in a few weeks - came over and stood by the piano. I stood up.
"You've improved considerably even since last time," she said, "Come over tomorrow in the morning and you can play to me if you would like. Half eleven, say?"
I said I would like to and I got a grateful smile from her daughter, the Duchess.
The food at lunch was better than OK. It was roast goose - I'd never had that before and I tucked in mightily. So did Sam and Tom. Young Sam sat between me and Tom and he was a bloody fidget. Twice, whether deliberately or not, he put his hand on my leg just where my shorts rode up a bit. As I had one of the Land Army girls on the other side who also seemed to knock my other leg rather more than necessary I had the makings of a hardon and I couldn't move to adjust it.
Luckily it did go down before lunch finished. Tom, Sam and I were able to get away quite quickly as Lady Bing needed a slight rest, as she'd had two helpings as well, before going back home. Sam followed us up the stairs and I asked him if he didn't have to go back to Mrs Fry's.
"She'll be talking to Mrs Crossley and Miss Pike for ages so can I come and talk to you?"
As neither of us said anything he followed us into the bedroom.
"Are you sharing?" he asked as he had spotted our pyjamas, unused, neatly folded on the two pillows.
Tom looked down on him from his greater height.
"Of course. Why are you asking?"
"Humph, 'cause when Tony and that other boy were here they did as well."
"Well," said Tom, "And why shouldn't they?"
He looked up at Tom, all innocence and grinned.
"I bet you like sharing, it's much nicer and it's handy, isn't it?"
"Handy? What for?"
Oh, Tom, you are getting into deep water here. The little tyke smiled up at Tom again.
"Well, you don't have to creep into the next room do you, like I had to when I stayed at my cousin's!"
Little bastard. He'd got our number. And...., his cousin was Big Jim Chater! Eighteen and possessor of.....!
Before Tom could say anything else I chipped in.
"Would your cousin be Jim Chater?" I asked.
"No, not that cousin, his younger brother, Josh!"
"I didn't know he's got a brother, he doesn't go to our school."
"No, he goes to a Public School. His father said he needed a bit of discipline."
"How old is he?" I asked, curious.
"Older than me, I think he's fifteen and a bit. He's fun..., well, so's Jim, but my Aunt won't have Josh staying with her at the same time as me 'cos she say's he's a bad influence on me."
"Why's that?" I asked, even more curious, knowing that Big Jim had demonstrated something pretty large and....
"Humph," he sniggered, "She caught us with no clothes on when I was ten and we were having a look at each other...." He stopped and looked at Tom. "He had lots of hair round his thing then and it's ever so big now. Not as big as Jim's though!"
Then, still looking straight at Tom, who was looking at him intently with all these revelations.
"What about you? Have you got a big one like Jim 'cos he was at school with your brother last year 'cos he's got a picture of the Rugby team and there's a Buchanan in that. He's got that on his bedroom wall."
Tom was actually going red. Tom was blushing. Tom was going to get his leg pulled! If not his prick!! I laughed.
"Course he's got a big one! Haven't you Tom! Hangs down the leg of his shorts so I bet he's got Duncan's old jockstrap on, eh, Tom?"
Tom went ever redder. The little tyke wasn't finished.
"Can I have a look? I've seen Jim's and Josh's plenty of times."
The direct approach. The lad had a way with him.
"Go on, Tom," I urged, giggling inside and outside, "Show him. Give the lad a treat!"
Tom shot me a venomous stare.
"Keep your mouth shut, Thomson!" he said, quite harshly. Tom had never called me by my surname before. Tom was annoyed, but, I knew he was also intrigued.
I smiled at him. "Come on, Tom, we'll both show him and we can compare his as well."
With that the little tyke dropped his shorts and pulled down his underpants and showed a sturdy four or so inches sticking straight up with a pair of small balls in a loose sack hanging below. Tom stared as Sam then reached down and swiftly pulled his foreskin down so his rosy pink knob was fully exposed.
"Come on, Tom, there's mine. What about yours?" he said brightly in his young adolescent alto.
Tom gave me another fiendish look but all I did was the same as Sam. The belt on my shorts snapped undone, I opened the fly, wriggled and they hit the floor.
I had on my precious jockstrap so that was quickly lowered and my five and a half plus inches of stiff boymeat was on view. Sam took a good look and then turned to Tom.
"Last one!"
Tom cast his eyes heavenwards then very slowly undid his belt, lowered his shorts and exposed his equipment all snug in Dunc's jockstrap. He hooked his fingers in the waistband and as he lowered the band and pouch his own hardy young prick rose into its fully erect state.
"Gosh!" exclaimed young Sam as he cast his eyes from one erection to the other. He pointed at mine. "You're bigger than Josh but not so big as Jim." He eyed Tom's shorter but fleshier offering. "And yours is much fatter, ain't it?"
Honour was served. In fact Tom evened all up.
"Yours isn't bad, for a kid," he said dismissively, "Now I know why you wanted to stay with us. Cock inspection, eh? And to make sure we weren't bullocks!"
Both Sam and I giggled and Sam took a step or two closer to Tom who was a good eight or more inches taller.
"No, you ain't!" he said decisively, "But what about this?" He bent down a little and clamped his lips round Tom's erection, catching hold of the base of it and pulling down, which must have wrenched Tom's rather tight foreskin back off his fleshy knob. His head bobbed up and down a few times and Tom was instantly making strange noises.
Then suddenly he caught hold of Sam's head, leaned back, went 'AAAAAAAAH', and held Sam's head tight stopping him moving. Tom's buttocks were jerking violently
He let go and Sam withdrew and caught two final squirts of Tom's spunk between the eyes as Tom's prick, now free, waved wildly in front of him. Sam had a small rivulet of spunk running down the side of his nose and there was a coating of cum on his lips when he opened his mouth, smiling broadly. He looked up at Tom, who was standing there eyes tightly shut still twitching slightly and with a small string of pearly come hanging now from his piss-slit. Sam swallowed noisily.
"Fuck me!" he said with feeling, "You don't half fire a wad. Lots more than Josh and about the same as Jim."
Praise indeed! But he also had a command of vocabulary as well. And I was still standing there - spare prick and all that. But, Sam wasn't finished and Tom hadn't said a word.
Sam turned from Tom. "Your turn," he said to me and still with cum round his chops and down the side of his nose his lips were soon firmly fixed on my ever eager member. My foreskin was rapidly retracted and the suctioning began. I was in as horny a state as Tom so it wasn't long before the familiar twitches began and I was holding on to Sam's head and filling his gills. He took one full squirt and then, with what must have been a practised hand, caught hold of my shaft as his mouth came away and the rest of my load joined Tom's on his face. What surprised the little bugger was how much. The Thomson spunk factory was working overtime for the War effort! It was also the force behind it. He blinked several times as five hefty squirts hit him four square and splattered all over his face. I was taking very deep breaths as the final paroxysms between my legs died down. I looked down at young Sam whose eyes were now wide open in wonderment. Both of us had scored a signal victory. I knew we'd beaten his cousins.
"Fuck me!" he repeated as he swallowed again. "I've never seen so much!"
I wasn't finished. "Come here!" I ordered him. He stood up. He came nearer me. "Turn round." He did so. I reached down for his own erect rod. I nodded to Tom who took the hint, picked up my towel from the chair by the bed and chucked it onto the floor. Young Sam then had the fastest wank I could muster. He squirmed and tried to stop me. I caught his flailing arms with my other arm and pinned him to me as my fist fairly flew as I gripped his shaft as tight as I dare. Tom grinned as the youngster wriggled and twitched.
"Oh, please, please!.., please!...," he was almost shouting out. Tom came over to him and clamped a hand over his mouth and with the other hand smeared the accumulated cum all over his face and forehead. He then put a finger to his lips and took his hand away from Sam's mouth. Sam took the hint and only made gurgling noises for the few seconds before, he too, let loose a substantial load. I didn't stop wanking him and he was squirming even more as the fourth and concluding spurt jetted out. I kept going for a few seconds more but I knew he was going to holler so stopped suddenly and he collapsed back on me.
"Fuck me!" he exclaimed for the third time, "That was great, thanks!" He squirmed out of my grasp. "God, you two, you don't half make it."
We did, too. His coated face was evidence and the pair of us burst out laughing at the cream-faced loon. Shakespeare does come (pun!) in useful sometimes! Tom was staring at the evidence of our endeavours on Sam's face and, at last, the facade cracked. Tom just laughed.
"Christ, Sam!" he said, very jovially for usually straight-faced Tom, "Go and look at yourself in the bathroom mirror!"
The lad pulled up his pants and shorts and scuttled into the bathroom and there was an almost immediate roar of laughter. We heard the sound of running water and we both pulled up our jockstraps and shorts before a clean-faced loon came back into the bedroom soon after.
"Wish I could stay with you," he said as soon as he came into the room, "Could tell you some of the things Josh has told me."
"Probably know them," said Tom, again taking an unaccustomed role, "Don't forget we're not much younger than your cousin."
Sam sniggered. "Bet you don't know half what goes on at that school he's at. It's ever so strict too, he gets walloped a lot. I'll tell you if you want to know....."
Tom held up a hand. "...And we don't want to, do we Jacko?"
I could only nod agreement. I was curious, but there was something a bit too forward about Sam.
There was a single ring on the bell.
"Come on, Sam," I said, "I bet that's your aunt ready to go. We'll come down and see you off and we'll probably see you before we go back on Wednesday."
Mrs Fry, Lady Bing and the Duchess were all ready to go when we got down the stairs. We renewed our promise to be at Ashburn House in the morning. Sam made a face as he obviously wanted to stay but Mrs Fry was saying about all the jobs she had for him to do in the morning.
After a light supper we mooched around the books in the Library and by half-past eight I was ready for bed. At least, ready to go to the bedroom. Tom didn't need any urging either.
We were soon washed, undressed and lying side by side in the double bed. My hand went straight to his cock which was, surprise, surprise, half erect already.
But, we just lay for a while and chatted. I said he must think Ulvescott to be a strange place, dogs fucking, Germans wanking, Scouts shagging trees, cattle with no bollocks and lads sucking cocks unbidden. We both had a great fit of the giggles and, heaving with laughter, started to pull on each other's pricks.
Luckily, as usual, I'd put my towel between us because we both came plenty and, after mopping up, both fell fast asleep.
Whit Monday
I was awake bright and early. Tom was still asleep as I levered myself out of bed and went and had a slash and washed. I smelt of stale cum and also my sweat was beginning to smell different as well so made I certain I was clean as I didn't want to stink going to Ashwell House.
Bran thumped on the door so I let him in and he woke Tom by standing, paws on the bed, looming over him and panting in his ear. Tom woke with a start and I thought he might be scared with the huge dog's head looking down on him. But no, Tom put his arms up and round Bran's neck. Bran had another friend.
While Tom was getting up I went down and practised a bit just to make sure I remembered the awkward fingering in a couple of pieces. Tom came down and stood behind me.
"You play very well," he said, "I wish I could do something like that."
I said I didn't play as well as Tim Parker but Tom said it didn't matter 'cause I was OK.
We gave ourselves plenty of time to get to Ashburn House and set off on our bikes, with Bran loping along beside or just in front. He seemed to know our destination! We didn't see any sign of the Scouts and thought it prudent to go on the road rather than try the path through the estate copse in case we were set upon.
On arrival we were let in by the elderly maid. Tom was impressed with the hugeness of the place and nearly forgot to hand over the box of eggs to the Duchess who looked very pleased at receiving them. Lady Bing was already sitting in the music room and there was a huge grand piano there.
"Come in, come in," she called, "Agnes will bring in some tea and sandwiches in a moment."
I looked at the piano. Lady Bing smiled. "It's a Bosendorfer, my husband bought it for me in Berlin. Play me that Brahm's lullaby you played last night."
The lid was already open and I didn't need my music for that piece. I sat on the stool and played. It was a new experience. I had never heard such a rich tone, I was captivated. I think it even made me play better. As soon as I finished that piece I went on straight away and played about six pieces I knew off by heart. I was entranced by the wonderful, sonorous sound, I wanted to play all day.
When I finished I turned on the stool but I didn't have a chance to say anything.
"You liked that, didn't you?" Lady Bing said, "I could hear you liked the piano. You must play some more as soon as you've had some tea."
While I had been playing, Agnes, the elderly maid, had wheeled in a trolley with a silver teapot, milk jug and sugar basin and good hefty tea-cups. There was a plate of sandwiches as well.
"Can't abide those namby-pamby tea-cups some people have," Lady Bing announced, "I like a good amount! I like a good sandwich as well, crusts and all!"
The Duchess grinned - she had heard it before.
Over tea and sandwiches Lady Bing told us more about her life and how she used to sing in opera and then gave more and more solo recitals until her voice gave out. I told her about my friend Tim Parker and his cellist brother and she said they should come and visit her as well as she missed music-making because of the War now she just listened to the wireless. While she was talking her daughter went out and came back with a pile of music.
"You might as well have this," she said, "There is plenty more you can have once you've learned all this."
There were about a dozen books, mainly of collections of various composers, some I'd never heard of. Tom was getting on famously with Lady Bing. For some reason he knew quite a bit about the geography of Germany and was fascinated by her tales of life there in the late 1800's. Then he looked quite startled as she addressed me in her impeccable German.
"Have you decided what you will study when you go to University?" she asked, "I remember you are very good at languages as well. What will it be, Music or Languages?"
I replied in German and said I had time to choose as I wasn't yet fifteen but I thought either Languages or Mathematics. She nodded. Tom hadn't a clue what we had been discussing so I told him and he seemed relieved - he probably thought we were a couple of German spies discussing the troop movements we had observed when we cycled over on Saturday - numerous trucks carrying lots of soldiers.
I then played three more pieces and both Lady Bing and her daughter thanked me very much and we were both invited to come to Ashburn at any time. I said how much I'd enjoyed the piano. It was the best one I'd ever played. The Duchess whispered that I mustn't tell Mrs Crossley that.
On the way back Tom said he wished he could speak languages as well as I could. I hoped he wasn't feeling a bit blue about things and I said he had plenty to be proud of. Anyway, we saw no sign of the Scouts and arrived back where Dora plied us with a plate of cold chicken and hunks of bread.
I suggested we went and looked for Hans and Herr Vogel in the afternoon. Tom was a bit apprehensive. He wondered if Hans realised he had been watched on Saturday afternoon. I said we wouldn't mention it and, anyway, as all the boys we knew did it why shouldn't he.
We sauntered round to the wood-cutting barn with Bran leading the way. We could hear the sound of wood being chopped and a deep voice singing a sort of folk song. I peeped round the door and there was only Hans, no Herr Vogel. He saw me and stopped singing and called out a greeting in German.
"Hello, Hans," I replied, also in German, "I've brought my friend Tom to meet you."
Hans smiled. Gosh, he had a nice smile and he looked very nice too. He had taken off his shirt to be more comfortable while working and as he stood up he flexed the muscles of his chest and upper arms. His blond hair had been cut even shorter than when I'd seen him on the previous visit.
Tom came in behind me and I turned to see him looking intently at Hans.
Hans surprised me. He said, in good English, "Hello, Tom", and held out a huge hand. Tom shook his hand and said he was pleased to meet him. Hans nodded and said "Yes".
I asked Hans, in German, who had been teaching him English. He grinned and said Herr Vogel. Apparently, Herr Vogel could speak English very well but had never let on to me or the others. I wasn't to tell him I knew and, anyway, he was suffering from toothache and wouldn't be around for a few days. I said we would miss him as we were going back on Wednesday.
Hans then said the Scouts had been creeping around that morning and he had chased off a couple who had stared at him through the window. I said they were probably looking for us. I told him a bit about finding Bernie, I did mention they'd tied him naked to the tree but not that we found him with a hardon and ant-chewed dick. He laughed and said when he was a young kid in their youth group in Germany he'd been made to run naked through the forest because he'd upset the leader about something and most of his group had been made to do the same thing by the time they'd finished the camp. He grinned and said they thought the leader liked to see naked boys so they deliberately showed off their 'Schwanzes' at every opportunity to give him a thrill. I got the meaning of that word straight away and as I nodded and smiled he grinned.
I explained this to Tom saying the kids waved their cocks at the leader. He laughed and said it was a bit like Fred Cross in their class who sat at the back of the form in the Third Year and would get his cock out and waggle it when Campion or old Jenkins wasn't looking. I had to translate this for Hans who smiled and said all boys were the same.
Of course, I had to tell Hans about Tom's discovery of ex-Sergeant Higg's cache in the cellar. He said he wasn't surprised as Higgs was always snooping around down there. I learned a new phrase when he referred to Higgs as 'ein Arsch mit Ohren' - most descriptive!
After we left Hans Tom said he wondered what else the German boys did.
"Same as us," I said, "As he said, all boys are the same and he certainly does, you saw!"
That night, after supper with Aunt Mary, Miss Pike and two of the Land Girls, while we were getting ready for bed he said he was glad we hadn't met up with that young Sam again. He thought he was dangerous. He agreed he'd liked what had happened but he said in some ways he was shocked. Then he seemed to go very quiet as he finished undressing and we got into bed. I had already put my towel in the middle of the bed, just in case!
No sooner was I in bed before Tom grabbed me, almost roughly, and entwined himself around me. The immediate effect on me was to give me a raging hardon. Then he started to mumble, gradually getting louder.
"I want to be fucked, fuck me please..., fuck me please!"
As he was saying this he was turning me up and over him and his legs were raised up round my waist. He was getting more and more frenzied.
"Fuck me, fuck me, come on I want to be fucked, please, oh please, Piers, I want to be fucked! Now!"
With that he reached down, grasped my cock and forced it against his hole. I was doubly startled, by that action, but much more by his request. I was Piers!
Tom was having another of those strange moments. But this time he was the one on the receiving end. My end! My end was forcibly thrust into his hole. I was helpless. Tom was much stronger than me and his grip on my cock was strong. I thought it must be hurting him dreadfully to do this with no preparation but I felt my rod go in quite easily. It probably hurt me more as my foreskin was roughly jerked back
Tom's hips were now working overtime too. He jerked back and forth and I pushed and my shaft was buried completely. I moved my hips back and forth trying to keep up with Tom and soon my pubes were battering against him with my length going in and out about four inches or so on each cycle.
At the same time he was chewing my lips, my ears, licking my chin and down onto my chest and moaning in a low voice, "Oh fuck me, fuck me, please Piers, fuck me, I want it.., I want it!"
Tom got it. My randiness level couldn't have been higher. We fucked vigorously for about five minutes, or even longer, with Tom keeping up the tempo with his hip movements and his moans, entreaties, lickings and suckings until I couldn't help it, I came. I came so copiously I could hear the slurpings as my prick became bathed in my own spunk but Tom was relentless, he wanted more. I was clasped tight around the shoulders as his hips went into overdrive.
I was still rigid, the action of his tight canal around my engorged prick was sufficient to maintain my hardon. I was the 'prick of steel' of the song - 'round and round went the fucking great wheel, in and out went the prick of steel' - I was gasping as my orgasm had been quite tremendous but I was being raised to another, even more stupendous. Ten or fifteen minutes must have passed, we were both sweating so much it was dripping off my chest onto him and his face was flushed and his arms, though still tightly laced round me were wet and sticky. What happened next was colossal! I shot another load and in so doing rammed my cock so far in I banged my poor drawn-up balls against him. The pain was immense, but the pain was also so, so enjoyable. My balls emptied completely and Tom, with a great squeeze of his legs, stopped, forcing his hips against me.
We rolled over, his arms and legs still round me and with my cock still fully inserted and we just fell asleep, completely and utterly exhausted.
Sometime in the night I must have finally deflated and extricated myself from his grasp. I went as silently as possible into the bathroom and washed myself. Back in bed Tom snored on and I soon went off to sleep again. I awoke a bit later in a tangle of bedclothes clinging to his back as he had turned away from me. I reached down and his cock was fully erect. I just held it and went to sleep again.
I was hot and sweaty when I woke next morning still against Tom's back with him snoring peacefully. My knee was against his crack and I felt down and, Oh Lord, there was masses of sticky come still oozing from his crack. Luckily the towel was between the outflow and the bedsheets.
Then came the memory of the fierceness of Tom's demands and also him calling me Piers. Would he remember that? I wasn't going to revive that memory for him if he didn't mention it. It was something for my private diary and my private thoughts.
I crept out of bed and ran the bath and got in and luxuriated in the warmth. I washed very carefully, erasing all my sweatiness. I was out, dried, dressed, hair combed, before Tom started to emerge from his cocoon of sleep. He was bleary eyed. As he turned in the bed I saw, from the movement under the bedclothes, he was feeling his crack. I was standing by the bed watching him as he drew out a rather sticky hand.
He smile up at me. "That was wonderful, Jacko, what did you do?"
What a peculiar question!
"I did what you asked me to do... Twice!" I added.
"Would you help me now?" he asked, pushing down the bedclothes and exposing his thick erection.
I got on the bed, straddling his legs and tossed him off as he lay there, eyes closed, mouth open, enjoying every moment. He grunted and four thick streams of his boy cream spurted out over his belly and chest. He was satisfied. I let go and he lay there savouring the moment.
"Thanks, Jacko, that was great!" he murmured. His eyes snapped open. "And I'm bloody hungry, is it time for breakfast?"
"I hope you'll wash yourself first you stinky hound," I said pompously.
He jumped out of bed, swatted my backside and ran into the bathroom. I didn't follow as I wanted to check up on things. I opened the cupboard and found the diaries. I turned to the addresses at the back of each. Ah, 'Miles Buchan'! I thought that was near enough. I flicked through the second diary. There it was. During the summer holiday M was here with Piers. August the eighth the entry read, 'M very insistent'. Next day, 'M v. insistent'. August the tenth. 'M satisfied xxx'. I think that mystery was solved! But how could Tom have known? His name was Buchanan, Miles was Buchan. I put the diaries back in the cupboard and went over to the photos arrayed on the wall. There was Miles, large as life and very handsome, hair slicked down, broad-chested, in the rowing team. Who was he? Was he still alive? He looked the same age as Piers, about seventeen. I deduced he had wanted Piers to fuck him and Piers had obliged. Tom had wanted to be fucked and I had obliged, but he had called me Piers! Oh, Tom, and you couldn't remember! And I knew I couldn't confront you with this, plus the previous occurrence when you acted out being Gordon Thomas! What was I to do?
Tom came out of the bathroom looking all clean, his short fat prick swinging as he walked in.
"Gosh, Jacko," he said, "I'm a bit sore. What did you do?"
He was rubbing his backside when saying this.
"Only what you asked me to do," I replied, rather prissily. "You wanted it badly and you had my full attention. Twice!"
"God!" he said, "I don't really remember. I must have had too much of that wine at dinner last night!"
I didn't say anything as both of us had only had one glass apiece so I didn't think that was the reason. I wondered who I could ask? I wanted to know more about Gordon Thomas and Miles Buchan as well.
Breakfast came and so did Tony and Roo looking as if a good wash wouldn't do them any harm. They were in rude, good health and scoffed two eggs and several slices of bread apiece. We asked how the Scout camp had gone. The answer was a monosyllabic, 'OK' - or is that two syllables? When asked what the others were doing for breakfast the answer was they'd had it. So this was extra! Anyway, they were going back today as Mr Marcham was arranging for the tents to be fetched and they were going on the back of the lorry. We didn't enlighten them we were staying one more day! We didn't ask about Bernie as Dora was bustling in and out. That would have to wait. Also, I wanted to find out if Tony knew anything about Piers' friends. But we did tell them about the contraband in the cellar and Tony said someone had seen a policeman cycling down the path to the village and wondered why. Anyway, just after nine o'clock they went off and said they'd see us at school on Thursday.
Aunt Mary asked us if we would go to the village Post Office with a batch of letters for her. We set off, Bran in tow, and just as we got to Mrs Fry's there was Sam in the driveway swinging a dog lead.
"Hi," he said, "Just seen Tony and his mob going off in that old van." He peered at us and saw Bran. "I'm supposed to take Sally for a walk but I was told not to let Bran see her." He spotted the letters. "Can I come with you?"
Tom took the initiative - he was carrying the letters - and said he could.
I knew I was curious about Josh and Tom showed he was as well. We hadn't gone far, with Sam walking beside Tom, when I heard Tom ask him a question.
"Why did Dick Chater's brother not come to our school?"
Sam sniggered. "He got into trouble with his dad. He wrecked something or other - he's always wrecking things - so his dad sent him to this school. Josh says all the boys have done something. Nothing illegal, just upset their family."
"Sounds odd," said Tom, "What happens there?"
I was all ears and moved up to walk on the other side of Sam.
"Huh, Josh says they're ever so strict. The masters wallop them for all sorts of reasons. Worst of all is if a master puts you on 'RS' for the Head Master."
"Puts them on 'arse'?" queried Tom.
Sam sniggered again. "Not 'arse', 'R...S', means 'Rugger Shorts Only'."
"What's that mean?"
By this time we had reached the village Post Office so further elucidation was postponed while Tom and I went in leaving Bran outside with Sam. I bought the necessary stamps with the money that Mrs Crossley had given me and as Tom and I licked and stuck the stamps on I noted one was to 'Mrs Mildred Buchan'.
Josh was bursting to continue his tale as soon as we emerged and had put the letters into the pillar box.
"You want to know what 'Rugger Shorts Only' means, eh?" he asked as the last letter plopped into the box.
"Of course," I said and we set off back towards Mrs Fry's.
"Well," said Sam portentously, "When you've done something really horrendous you have to report to the Headmaster's room before school starts just wearing a rugger shirt and shorts. No underpants. Josh told me he's had to do it twice but their cubby-boss has had at least five lots."
"What d'you mean, 'cubby-boss'?" asked Tom before I had a chance to ask the same thing.
"Well," said Sam resignedly, "All the dormitories are partitioned off into cubicles, they're the 'cubbies'. Each one has four boys in them, three younger ones and an older one. The older boy is in charge of the cubicle and he's the 'cubby-boss'."
Sam looked up at Tom slyly.
"Josh said one of the masters said for the war effort they ought to call them 'cockpits'. Josh said they call them 'fuck-pits'. Anyway, Josh's cubby-boss is a boy called Osborne." He looked at me. "He lives just outside Kerslake, big house..., his father is Major Osborne. Have you heard of him?"
I hadn't but Tom had. "Yeah, and his grandfather must be Colonel Osborne and he's the Chairman of Governors of our school."
Oh, so the old boy who wanted to see us out of those uniforms and liked boys with plenty of spunk was this lad's granddad!
Sam nodded sagely. "Well, this Ozzie, they call him, is a bit thick and is always in trouble. Josh said they both got RS the same day. It was Josh's second but this lad's fifth or sixth. You see, what happens is, you get marched in by two Prefects who bend you over a chair, pull your shorts down and you get the cane on your bare bum. Josh says the Head has a whole lot of canes from thin to thick and they don't half hurt."
I winced. Our Head Beak administered the cane rarely. In fact, I couldn't think of anyone in our form who'd had it. Sam was in full flow.
"Josh said he and Ozzie were waiting outside and two of the biggest Prefects came along the corridor and told Ozzie to follow them. They knocked on the door and went in and Josh said he nearly shat himself 'cause he realised Ozzie was getting six as he shouted 'Ow' for the first four, then he shouted 'Oh, fuck!' for the last two. Josh said all went quiet then he heard two more whacks with Ozzie just shouting out, then the door opened and Ozzie came out clutching his bum and weeping and he's a big lad.
Josh said he was just going up to him when the door opened again and a Prefect beckoned him in. Then he said the two Prefects grabbed him and hauled him over the chair and one pulled his shorts down. He said he was petrified as he could hear the Head swishing a cane through the air. 'Well Master Chater', he said, 'We meet for a second time. Last time three, this time four. I hope you won't copy your friend Master Osborne who only deserved six but got two extra for improper language.' He said the next few seconds were the worst he's ever experienced and he said he wasn't going to get into trouble again."
"What happened then," enquired Tom, who like me, was mightily impressed by the saga.
"Oh, he said the Prefects bundled him out and one thumped him on the back and said he was a brave kid not to have yelled out. Then he went to look for Ozzie. He said he found him lying on his bed with his shorts off and eight red weals in line down his bum. They compared their war wounds and he said he had four in line on his. Ozzie told him the Head had said 'like father, like son'. Apparently his dad had gone to the same school and the Head had given him a three, four and then a six years before. He said Ozzie should try to remember that it was his fault if he got punished and even more he should remember to moderate his language. Josh said Ozzie wanted to know what moderate meant. He's thick!"
By this time we had not only reached Mrs Fry's but were starting on the path back to the Manor and I wanted to ask Sam more questions about Josh and the school. I turned to Tom and winked and changed direction onto the path that led round to the stables and barns. There was a handy seat there so I plonked myself down as Josh was elaborating on Ozzie's thickness.
"You said on Sunday Josh told you other things."
Sam looked around. No one, of course, was in sight except us three chickens!
He grinned. "Yeah, lots. They don't call them fuck-pits for nothing."
He looked at Tom who regarded him silently. "Yeah, Josh says Ozzie likes to be sucked. That's what Josh taught me. What I did to you." Tom returned the look with an aloof stare. Sam turned to me. "Josh says they try to wear them out. They have rugger three afternoons and on Saturdays, then there's Cadets two other afternoons. That's 'cause most of them go into the Army when they leave school. Josh says he thinks all the exercise just makes them horny 'cause they all wank and suck each other every night."
"Just like Big Jim and you lot at last summer's camp," I said.
Sam's mouth opened, then shut. He looked at me with half-closed eyes. "How did you know that?" he asked.
I smiled. "I have friends who told me."
He laughed. "Thought so. I bet Tony told you."
I nodded. "So when did Josh teach you other stuff and tell you all about the school?"
"Oh, he'd told me about the school before but I went and stayed at the farm at Christmas and we had to share." He giggled. "That's when I learned more!"
Tom was still silent. Sam stood up.
"I'd better go 'cause Auntie'll be mad if I don't take Sally out. Bran'll stay here with you?"
I nodded.
"See you sometime," he said and ran off.
Tom let out a deep breath.
"I wouldn't like that school," was his only comment as we both lumbered up and went in search of a mid-morning cup in the Manor kitchen.
I had a plan and luckily Mrs Crossley was in the hallway when we went through. I had read The Thirty-nine Steps last year and it gave me an idea.
"Is that Mrs Buchan any relation of John Buchan who wrote Thirty-Nine Steps?" I asked her cannily. "It's ever such a good book," I added to make things sound more convincing.
Mrs Crossley looked at me quizzically. "I don't know, I'll ask her. It wouldn't be her husband anyway would it? He was something in the City, died a couple of years ago. She's a very old friend. Her son was at school with Piers and was a great friend of his. They were in the same regiment and Miles got killed about three weeks before Piers. A dreadful waste. I liked him very much."
I hoped I hadn't upset Mrs Crossley by reminding her of both Miles and Piers, but she smiled.
"They died for a cause and I hope you boys won't have to join up this time. Tom told me his brother has been called up and is going for basic training next month. This war can't go on too long, I hope, at least we seem to be making some progress in Italy."
I murmured that we had been lucky with the Air-Raid sirens going very rarely now. Mrs Crossley changed the subject and asked me to make sure I played this evening before dinner.
Tom and I didn't do much the rest of the day. We saw Hans and I had a chat with him. We explored further over on the estate and found where the adjoining fields which didn't have the herd in were all under cultivation. Before dinner I played for nearly three- quarters of an hour and really enjoyed myself. That evening we had more of the goose and an apple pie, plenty to eat. So to bed and two quite lengthy suck and wank sessions, a la Ozzie, no doubt. But, no strangeness tonight on Tom's part! And, I'd found out something about Miles!
To be continued: