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. Those so far have been very helpful in that they have given me the encouragement to persevere!
This is a very long tale. It unfolds over a good number of years. What is true, is true: what is not is otherwise. If you have trouble with the English educational system let me know.
Please note: My old e-mail addresses have been hi-jacked. I inadvertently opened an e-mail would looked genuine and something has been planted. My up-dated virus checker hasn't spotted it. Help! The e-mail came from someone 'blackboy...' and was 121K.
ALADDIN'S AWAKENING
By
Joel
CHAPTER 35
Wednesday 6th September 1944 (Cont.)
We were lucky as the train from Ipswich to London was not crowded. We managed to get seats with only one other passenger in the carriage. As the train started to draw out of the station Aunt Della asked if I had enjoyed my stay. What could I say? I said immediately that I thought it was the best holiday I'd ever had, I had learned to sail - or at least not to rock the boat too much, how to swim - without having to be rescued, I had made new friends, I had... I stopped, Aunt Della was smiling.
"You know, Jacko," she said, "I've only known you a fortnight but you have changed over that time and what is more, my boys have changed as well...." She paused and looked towards the window I was sitting next to. She laughed very softly... "...I can tell you this because I think you also know. Lachlan's changed."
She paused and looked across the compartment. The old lady sitting in the corner had settled herself with eyes closed. She looked back at me and smiled broadly.
"I'm supposed to be an authoress and I'm hunting for words. That's it... Lachlan doesn't have that hunted, or perhaps haunted, look now at all. It's been very noticeable to me these last few days."
I nodded, I knew what she meant.
"I have noticed that look on Lachlan's face each time he arrived back home from school," she continued, "And I noticed it especially the day before you came. I can tell you he and Andrew were quite scared about meeting you. We can't blame your Uncle Edward too much, but he does have a way of putting things. You might call it embroidery. But Lachlan's had that look many times since we heard that his father had been killed. Jacko," she looked me straight in the eyes, "I haven't seen that look for at least three days now and I don't think I'll see it again. Have you talked together?"
Talked together? Of course we had. That night we talked about who we were I realised had been a turning point for Lachlan. I also knew that Lachlan had changed. I had an inkling of what his mother meant about the hunted or haunted look. Haunted by the uncertainty of the boy whose whole life had so far been regulated by order, haunted by that unknowingness of the boy who was still seeking to define himself, haunted by the dimly perceived demands of a future life. He had good, close friends at school but in some way the friendship we had built up over only the last few days transcended even these. I knew it and Lachlan knew it. Those faltering sentences I had been able to utter and the way he confessed his unsureness was a beginning. Those words about security and trust. Security and trust. We had demonstrated all that these words meant in the feelings we had for each other in those furious, peaceful, hectic, serene encounters where these contrary passions were expressed and internalised as deep inexpressible understandings. We had shared ourselves, our bodies, our innermost beings in complete mutual trust. I thought of his brother. His adored brother. We had also forged bonds and the bonds between the two brothers were now even stronger through their own explorations. What could I say to Aunt Della about all these thoughts racing in my poor wee brain?
I smiled and thought my best bet was truth varnished. "Yes," I said, "We've talked. I won't tell you everything because that would be breaking the trust between Lachlan and me. We trust each other. I really think Lachlan knows more about himself now, too." I couldn't say more but Aunt Della nodded. I went on. "I think Flea, I mean Andrew, does as well. I know more about me, I'm sure of that. I'm very proud to have been accepted by them. I'm proud that I'll be their real cousin soon, too."
Aunt Della smiled. "I'm glad you'll be their cousin too. I'm not breaking a confidence myself when I say your Uncle has the highest regard for you... ...It was actually his idea I invited you. I think he knew Lachlan needed someone outside his circle to help him resolve things. And as for Flea, as you call him, I must say that is the most appropriate name he's ever been called. But, your presence has also had an effect on him. Perhaps, because he was younger his father's death didn't hit him so hard but he has had to rely so much on Lachlan and that friend of his, Potty, you've come as a breath of fresh air, I would say." She leaned over to me. "Actually, this morning before we came away he said he wouldn't mind if we could all live together.... I dread to think of the chaos and arguments. But Andrew keeps Lachlan in order - somehow, unconsciously he senses when Lachlan is worried and that open heart of his helps Lachlan a lot. It was his idea to have the Red Indian welcome. Lachlan had wondered if they should meet you dressed in their school uniforms. Andrew said he was a po-faced snob and that was the end of that!"
I laughed and said I couldn't have had a better welcome. I put my hand in my jacket pocket and drew out the short clay pipe.
"Andrew said I should keep this but I wasn't to start to smoke as he'd heard it stunts your growth. He said he hadn't so he should soon be a bit bigger."
His mother laughed, then looked a bit sad. "Yes, neither of them had a good start, Angus was only five foot five and I'm only just over five feet so they'll both be short."
I said I didn't think that would matter, they were both great characters. I said I'd given them each a pip to remember me by. She smiled again.
"I don't think they'll ever forget you."
To change the subject I said I thought I'd made another friend. Young Georgie. I said I'd never met anyone like him.
Aunt Della's eyes lit up. "Young Georgie is just a remarkable person. His whole family is. Old Mr Catchpole's family has had that farm for generations. You heard the boys talk about Billy?"
Yes I had. The short-dicked, failed fuck, ardent wanker according to his brother, but not in those exact words! The boy who had taught the brothers how to sail.
"Georgie told you he won a scholarship and goes to Grammar School in Ipswich. Billy did too, but there was pressure on him as the next generation to take over the farm. His father is a bit of a dreamer and likes his drink and is happy to work on the farm but doesn't want the responsibility. So Billy didn't go to Grammar School but Angus had taken him sailing as a boy and he loved it and that was his compensation for not going. Then the war came and Billy was called up last year. That means plans for going to the farm institute will have to wait." She laughed. "I think Georgie and Billy are very much like Andrew and Lachlan."
The old lady in the other corner woke up a bit and shuffled out, no doubt to go to the lav. Good job the train was moving as I thought of the song Rhys had serenaded us with. 'Passengers will please refrain from urinating while the train is stationary upon the track. If you need to pass some water, please to ask a passing porter, who will place a basin on the rack'. Mrs Cameron waited until she had departed.
"I said Georgie is a remarkable boy, he's more than that. He's an extraordinary boy."
I nodded and said I was astonished about how well he played the piano. Aunt Della laughed.
"Yes, that's quite a story in itself. Before she was married his mother worked for old Mrs Pretyman at the big house the other end of the village and was always there helping out after that. Young Georgie had gone there on an errand when he was about eight and Mrs Pretyman was playing the piano as he marched into the room in his usual way.
She told me that when she stopped he told her that was a good tune and looked at the grand piano with that intent stare of his." I knew the look. I had been subjected to it when getting out of bed with a semi-hardon. "She just said would he like to learn to play and he said 'Yes' and indicated she should get off the piano stool. She said in an hour he had learned more than she had in her first months of lessons as a girl. And she's been teaching him ever since."
I said he'd mentioned having lessons at school as well. She laughed.
"The more I know of Georgie the more unbelievable he is. When he won the scholarship Mrs Pretyman and the rector told Grandpa Catchpole it was up to him to see the boy went to the Grammar School. I don't suppose you know how country people are nervous about education. They revere it in someone like the rector or the schoolmaster, but the thought is, it's not for them. But Mr Catchpole did make sure Georgie took up his place. Mrs Pretyman knew his mother wouldn't go to the school to see how he was getting on and then Georgie told her he was having extra piano lessons as she'd noticed how fast he was progressing. I said to Mrs Pretyman I would go to the school to find out things and I discussed it with the rector as well.
"I made an appointment with the headmaster who met me in quite a state of amusement. This was soon after Georgie had started at the school so he was not quite eleven and the boys in his class were mainly older, eleven or twelve. The head told me his side of finding Georgie playing the piano in the school hall. Apparently the caretaker had gone to complain this boy was disobedient and was ruining the piano. It happened that the music master, Mr Vickery, was in the corridor at the time so they both went to investigate. The head said Mr Vickery shook his head in disbelief at the quality of Georgie's playing. What came next was the revelation. Georgie stopped, stood up and when the head said he thought he could have extra tuition and Mr Vickery nodded, Georgie said 'Thank you' then turned to Mr Vickery and said 'You play tidy enough yourself" and thanked him too."
Aunt Della went on to say that Mr Vickery had lived in Suffolk long enough and realised this was the highest compliment he could be paid. Then he also realised what had also been strange, Georgie had not been playing the piece in its usual key. Whatever it was was in E flat but Georgie had played it in D. Mr Vickery asked if he had learned it in that key. Georgie said no, then turned and hit the middle A flat on the piano. 'Thass why!" he said in his wonderful accent, he turned to the head and said 'thet ould piano needs a-tuning, Mr Turton'.
I could imagine Georgie. He stood up for himself. "Do I hev to tell you the time a day!" came to mind. But, saying that to the head? Confidence. Playing in a different key? I shook my head. He hadn't told us that part of the story. He was not boastful.
"I've been to the school a couple of times since and there's always a new story. A couple of masters were worried in case he might be bullied because I think also that he had a rough passage in those first few months at school. He is uncompromisingly himself in any case and a bit of a butt because of his strong accent. The head said I wasn't to worry as Georgie soon found guardian angels. In his usual forthright way he'd told two large Fifth Year boys they didn't know how to tie knots which they were practising during break-time for some Scout badge. They were about to thump him but he stood his ground and said they were at the school to learn, grabbed the rope, did the knot and held it up. They learned. That was in his First Year so he's got these guardians in the Sixth Form now and I have the feeling that quite a few of his schoolmates are in awe of him anyway."
I said I would be if he was at my school.
"I think Andrew and he are very good friends," I said, "They get on so well together."
"I'm so glad of that. They are alike in many ways, but Georgie is, of course, so much cleverer than Andrew and they both recognise it, but it makes no difference, though."
True. Their altercations were forthright but friendly. But, as I had noticed, Andrew had met his match! And, I think Lachlan would have to mind his P's and Q's.
I was deposited on the train to Kerslake with strict instructions not to miss the wedding. I thanked her profusely for looking after me so well. She said, with a laugh, I had been more than useful being there. She had had no disturbances of her daily schedule. She had almost finished another book and the short stories she was taking to the publisher this afternoon were all typed up during my stay. True, I'd heard the clack-clack of a typewriter several times when I had gone into the house during the mornings. She said the income from her writing kept body and soul together. I made her laugh when I said I hoped I hadn't had to make her work harder to cope with my body and soul as well. She did comment that the boys had been rather amazed at the amount I ate!
On the train to Kerslake I had time alone to contemplate all that had happened over the past fortnight. In fact thinking about it, this whole summer holiday had been one of great experience for me. Ulvescott, Chester and now at Pinmill: each had defined in some way a new extension to me as a person. I was in some way completely different from the boy who had woken up the first day after term ended. I would be fifteen in five days time. My fifteenth year had passed quickly, or had it? I had learned so much. I had learned I had good friends. I had learned I was able to do much more than I imagined. Each day it seemed I had learned something, not just school-work but more about my life and living. The naive, unthinking child was now growing up, fast. I knew this. I knew I mustn't forget it. Lachlan's doubts and fears about himself. Would I be able to cope with my next few years?
I trudged up from the station on arrival. The house was empty when I got home. There was a note saying that extra work had cropped up at the labs but Ma and Pa should be home by six. I went up to my room and unpacked. My room. My haven.
I carefully unpacked the corn dolly, that wonderful gift from Georgie. I unwrapped from a protecting shirt the frame with that most precious picture of Piers and Miles. The clay pipe I put carefully on the mantelpiece over the boarded-up grate. The family tree I unfolded and carefully flattened out and laid on my dressing-table. My diary had to be brought up to date. I thought of Billy Clarke and his elaborate code to keep Nobbo's eyes from prying. My diary had to carry thoughts and feelings. There were stars and crosses indicating transactions with myself and with my friends and those who weren't exactly friends but exploring and experimenting acquaintances. But what entries could convey those intense moments, especially over the last few days. Neutral commentary was all I could put in writing. But, in my heart resided the content.
Mundane matters had to be dealt with. I was starting my Fifth Year at the school tomorrow. I needed a clean shirt, socks, pants, school tie, blazer, trousers, even the hated school cap. I found Ma had prepared me already. A neat stack of things was there.
I had much to tell them as soon as they arrived home. Ma looked tired.
She had been reading over reports all day, she said, which had to be sent up to the Ministry in London by Friday for a meeting. Pa was leaving the next afternoon to present findings at the meeting, a new important discovery. Of course, they wanted to know about my visit. I said about the Doodlebugs and Pa nodded sagely. He was intrigued that I had actually seen the remains of one and I was cross-questioned about what I'd seen and where it was. My description must have been satisfactory as he disappeared soon after supper and I heard him speaking on the 'phone to, I assumed, Dr O'Brien. I heard him say, 'We need to get our hands on that before some fool melts it down for scrap. Jacko described a complete tail-fin and rocket section. Get Tommy to 'phone his friends...' So, what was important about it?
They commented, of course, on my even more intense tan. I explained that sailing on the river and learning to swim meant hours in the sun. I didn't add that most of this was without benefit of any clothing and my mid regions were as brown as my back and my legs. It would be interesting to hear comments when I was in the changing-room at school. Ma commented she thought I'd grown even more and it was a good job there had been another pair of Chris's old trousers which she hoped would fit me. Sure enough, I was a quarter of an inch taller even after just that fortnight. I hoped that Andrew would soon start to grow more.
In bed that night my thoughts were still in somewhat of a turmoil. Images of my old friends, my cousins, and now my soon-to-be cousins flooded my ponderings. Lachlan and Andrew had accepted me as I was. They had introduced me as, or, just plainly referred to me, as their cousin. No hesitations, no holding-back, two boys had accepted a third with love and willingness. I had tried to reciprocate. I think I had succeeded.
My thoughts were interspersed with images of those small, golden, lithe young bodies. Of me as 'thet gret dark cousin' offering myself to them. They in return offering themselves. As I lay there in a heated state I had images of Lachlan's lovely cock, looking so over-large for the size of his body. I could felt the thickness of it as I clasped and unclasped my hand imagining it and using my own hard shaft as a model. I thought of the times I had held it in my mouth and those other occasions when he had entered me fully and shed his seed deep in me. I though of my Flea. I could never forget that irrepressible grin, those interactions between the brothers both mental and physical. I thought of that stubby young cock, still not fully grown, but capable of giving its owner and those who shared it such pleasure. More than pleasure, a sharing of entities, a binding of these entities making one whole. I thought of that first time when we three shared each other's seed.
A ritual carried out whenever we three were together, and shed our spunk openly, together. No, not a ritual, that sounded too routine, it was more than that. We were sharing ourselves, showing our love and trust in each other.
My disordered thoughts gradually settled and, thinking firstly of Lachlan and that passion he showed me, I came copiously, willing that he should sense in some way my feelings for him. My second outpouring took much longer, plenty of time to think of all those marvellous ripostes plus those looks of adoration for a beloved elder brother and the total acceptance of that new, great, dark cousin. I lay still. I was too overwhelmed even to clear the pools of cum dotted over my torso. I slept soundly, secure.
Thursday September 7th 1944
School began with a vengeance! I was so late getting up and getting ready I hadn't even got my bike into the sheds as the bell went. I scurried into line and realised that, of course, we had all moved up a notch. Familiar Sixth Form faces were missing, new Perfects were primly on duty for the first time. John Hobbs and, surprise, surprise, Gregory Hall, were booking in the offending late-comers. Chris Payne and Dick Collins were at the front looking a mix between sheepishness and pride. Alec Fry was now Head Boy and Tom Rankin his deputy.
Tim, of course, was playing the piano for our entry for the first assembly of the new term. Again, it wasn't a very cheerful march. The reason was soon revealed. The Head looked appropriately solemn.
"It is always a sad duty when I have to announce the passing of those former members of the school in the course of this war, but others pass away as well. Last term we lost a valued member of staff. At the weekend, young John Pearson died in hospital. He was fifteen last month so his loss is even more regrettable. His mother has given me a note he wrote at the end of last term when he knew he might not survive. 'Please tell all my friends I valued their friendship.' Nine words only, but they sum up the value we all place on true friends." He looked around the hall and must have seen our solemn faces. I glanced at Jim Masters standing next to me, a fellow Cadet of Johnny's. A single tear ran down his cheek. The head went on, slowly, "Two old boys of the school, James Townsend and Phillip Parsons have been reported missing, presumed killed. They were both involved in a parachute drop onto enemy lines. We shall remember them, too." He turned to Tim and nodded. "We will now sing hymn number 17 in the School Hymn Book, Fight the Good Fight," he announced.
As we sang, I just wondered about the fight. What fight? War and illness? This bloody war, the last bloody war. Those two old boys now, then Piers and Miles before. Poor Johnny. He had lost his fight. The doctors, of course, couldn't give him back the kidney he didn't have but they couldn't stop the failure of his other one. I thought of that short time we had spent together enjoying that singular intimacy of boys. Fight the Good Fight? I wondered now for probably the first time in detail. If God was there, why did these things happen? Lay hold on Life! Did I really believe there was a God? I thought of Lachlan and his heartfelt prayer when the rocket bomb went on. Did his prayer help his soon-to-be father? Faint not nor Fear! What about those who might have been killed or made homeless by that bomb? How could I resolve these rather too profound thoughts? Trust, and thy trusting soul shall prove! My trust and value were in those dear friends of mine as well, they would help me to survive.
We were all very quiet when we went to our new form room. The first stream Fifth Year, 5K, room was at the end of the corridor on the second floor. A more secluded room than our previous one. This one had two large storerooms by the side of it so it was quieter. No noise from adjoining classrooms. We wondered who our new form master might be. Mr Campion had been form master of last year's 5K. For once we sat silent, expectant. The usual argy-bargy of entry to a classroom in the morning was not for us today. We had lost a member of our form - a friend of a number of us - so even Cleggy was quiet. He was holding just a whispered conversation with his desk-mate Nobbo. A few other quiet conversations began as we sat. Matt next to me looked particularly solemn. I had greeted him as we went into assembly but we had been silent as we climbed the stairs together afterwards. I hadn't had a chance even to say hello to Tony. He and Roo had their heads together in the row in front of us. Jim Masters sat alone. His pal Johnny Pearson had gone - where? Where? Where?
The sound of a heavy tread in the corridor meant only one person. Huggy. He swept in, gown billowing as usual. He stood behind the teacher's raised desk and surveyed us.
"I know how you feel. A friend of mine at school did not come back one term. We remembered him though. Whether he was a good friend, a friend or just an acquaintance, his presence had left something with each of us. You will each remember Johnny in some way. That is good, but we have to pass on to new things ourselves. I am sure Johnny knew that when he said he valued your friendship. We all have to come to terms and to grips with these things that happen. We move on, memories remain."
Huggy had spoken quietly. He had said so plainly what I had tried to think. I would remember Johnny, but I had to survive, to move on.
After this solemn moment we had to be organised. Our examination year. Eleven subjects to be fitted in. English Language, English Literature, French, Latin, Biology, Physics, Chemistry, Mathematics and Further Mathematics, History, Geography.
We would not be taking Woodwork and Technical Drawing, lack of materials, plus there was no one to teach them. We scanned the list for the names of our teachers. All familiar, but who would replace the Reverend Mr Campion? Mrs Sybil Riley! Old Mother Riley! The reputed scourge of lower forms! We had never had her but I had heard reports of the whirlwind and the still small voice of terror.
Organisation took up until break-time. As soon as we got into the corridor Tony collared me.
"Hello, cousin, always thought there was something wrong with you and now I know, you're a Crossley!" He said all this with a grin on his face. It was almost what Pa had said! "That photo is so like you, isn't it!"
I nodded and asked him if he had heard the full story. He shook his head.
"Your uncle sent dad a letter but the rest of us were at gran's so I only saw it on Monday when we came back and no one was in at yours when I came round on Tuesday."
I explained I had only got back yesterday but I would tell him the full story if he liked after school.
He grinned. "No, I've got an invite for you to come to tea on Saturday as we all want to hear it. Kats will be there as well, she doesn't go back to school until next Tuesday and she's dying to see you!"
OK, four o'clock it was to be. Oh, Kats was to be there too! And......?
Then the whirlwind struck. We were back in the form room after break. Timetable. English Literature.
A small, white-haired tornado entered the room, her gown floating behind her as she rushed in. She threw a large, heavy brief-case on the desk, then stood and surveyed us.
"Unh, 5K?" She pondered. "Had you for two lessons last year. Mr Campion away, wasn't it? Twelfth Night, eh? Moved on since then." We gawped. The questions were left unanswered She looked around. "Ah, George Clegg, again. I hope your father will be back soon. He was my GP and I can't stand that fellow I've got now!" No time for any comment from Cleggy, her tone had been slightly acid on the 'again'. Cleggy had better watch out, her steely eye was upon him! Her gaze went round. "Yes, Edward Carter, I need to talk to your father about my rates! Ah, Benjamin!" She looked at Benno. "Please tell your mother I will not be able to help at the Forces Canteen on Thursday mornings as I have the pleasure of teaching her son at that time. My time elsewhere is sadly diminishing now I am employed here more hours." Her gaze went round further. "And where is Thomas Buchanan? Away? His father was always helpful when my car went its own way."
A hand shot up.
"Well?" she enquired.
"Please, Miss," came the helpful voice of Johnny Wills in the front row.
The tornado marched up and stood in front of him.
"Miss! M.i.s.s!" The second of these spaced out and rising to a crescendo. "I am not Miss. You will address me as Mrs Riley." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Now, tell me what you wanted to say."
Poor Johnny. I could see his ears going red. "Please, Mi...ssus Riley, Tom Buchanan is in 5S."
She smiled. She said thank you. The wind had dropped. In fact, she then took us through the first scene of a Midsummer Night's Dream picking Johnny Reed and Johnny Wills as the Duke of Athens and Hippolyta. Then Tim Parker and me were picked to read Lysander and Demetrius with gravelly-voiced Danny Ross as Hermia. She explained carefully and in detail all that was going on and that this opening was the most difficult part of the play. I enjoyed it and I could see Tony and others were enjoying it too, Danny, though, didn't look too pleased having to read a female part!. At the end of the lesson she said we would know the play very well by the time the examinations came and thanked us for our concentration and participation. I suppose at some time I should broadcast some of Rhys's interpretations!
Matt cycled home with me after school. He said he wondered how we would get on with Mrs Riley but she was OK so far. A bit of wit from Matt came when he said he thought that girl's name was Hernia! Of course, he wanted to know how I had got on in Suffolk. I said I was getting two more horny cousins and he would meet them at the wedding. He said he had received an invitation and was looking forward to it. Of course, worries came out, a) what should he wear, b) what sort of present should he take, c) would the boys like him. I said I was wearing my school uniform and I had no idea about presents, perhaps he should ask his sister, Julia, and I repeated that the boys were a horny pair and once I said that, two horny boys had to relieve their own horniness. He'd lost a bit of his tan over the last fortnight but he commented that I would look quite good in an African bazaar, perhaps not quite dark enough, but in a dim light.... Matt had an improving sense of humour.
Of course that single encounter with Matt wasn't sufficient for this horny boy. Again, that evening, I thought back to the wonderful holiday experiences I'd had with all my friends or relations. Twice more my spunk spurted, twice more I had to mop myself before settling to sleep, my thoughts jangling by imagining I could hear engine noises and also by thinking of Johnny Pearson.
I was determined to keep fit so, much to Ma's amusement, had said the night before I would keep up my runs. Also, I was going to try to use the weights every day as well. I had done sixty lifts last night just before getting into bed and I think that set me up for the two intense wanks I then had. One pair of running shorts I'd taken with me to Suffolk were no better than a cleaning cloth now according to Ma. I grimaced and said sailing was a mucky occupation, sliding about all over the place in the boat, but there was at least another pair of Chris's which would fit me. Ma had also sorted out a pair of rugger shorts which were too small for me. She said they would probably do for Roo's young brother. She also said I should look clean and tidy going to tea at the Marchams on Saturday. Oh, Ma, please, I am growing up!
So running I went and saw Tom for the first time since returning as I helped him with the last road of his paper-round. He wanted to know all the news and I said I would tell him after school. I also wanted to find out what he'd been doing with Nobbo and his cousin Hal.
I had to get used to the new timetable for the year. Luckily Ma had asked to see it and had pointed out I'd got PT this morning so would need to take my kit. So, Maths with Huggy first, further trigonometry, then a double dose of PT. By the time we came out of that the whole lot of us were knackered! Rabbity must have read a new book on boy torture during the summer holidays as he didn't let up for a moment. Doesn't he realise for the average fifteen-year-old, interested in no other exercise than arm movements at one's leisure, that jumping over boxes, hanging from wall-bars, vaulting over horses, trying to climb ropes, doing press-ups and generally rushing around like blue-arsed flies is just too much of a bad thing. He did give us the last fifteen minutes to shower and get dressed. A more sorry lot of beaten warriors could not have been imagined. We filed into the changing-room, stripped and waited for the hot water to run. Tepid was the best it would do but that was better than nothing. I did get a few comments about being so tanned. 'Chocolate arse' was one epithet conjured up by Tony. "Kept your cock out of the sun, I see!" shouted out Danny Ross. Cheeky bugger. Checking me out and... I had a look at him too, and.... I'm sure I beat him! And...... He's almost a year older than me!
What I was now realising in some detail was the growth rate of my fellow creatures. We looked more or less the same as we'd always been, I mean facially, but bodies were changing rapidly. I hadn't seen Nobbo for about five weeks. I realised he was quite a bean- pole now. He was by far the tallest, though the youngest, in the class. Even I was over- shooting quite a few. Bodies were filling out and really, as I hadn't seen the majority of my class-mates in the nude since the few PT lessons we'd had after Easter, the most noticeable aspect of growing up was hairiness. Jim Masters had sprouted a fine layer of black hair on his legs. I noticed that when Ned Carter raised his arms under the down-pouring shower he had quite abundant tufts in his armpits. Bushes around pricks were more luxuriant for almost all those I had a peek at. I noted Cleggy's tool had got longer I was sure... Oh, crumbs, I'd better dry myself off quickly or my tool would be lengthening as well!
We all lolled around after lunch, exchanging gossip. Most had done nothing over the holiday period. There had been Cadet camps and Boys' Brigade or Scout camps, but that was all. I didn't boast of all my travels and experiences, I just listened.
I went off to find Tom. He was with Martin Bates and Geoffrey Wells, fellow Boys' Brigade stalwarts. I wondered where Chris Noonan was, another BB member, as I could have told them all about Romeo and Juliet and the bawdy hand. I thought I hadn't better - just in case they didn't think it funny. Geoffrey's father was the Methodist minister so he might not have taken it on board. Chris was a friend of his. But, I knew Geoff was a wanker as Nobbo had told me about him. And...., so was Chris, as he lived next door to Andy Symes and Andy had told Matt about the size of his prick! All very complicated. What I was also coming to realise was the inter-relationship between all us boys. A had wanked B who had wanked C and so on! All very complex and mathematical!
I was musing on all this when Roo came up. He said Tony had told him I'd found out I was related to him. I don't think Roo really grasped that it was only through marriage. Tony was Mrs Crossley's great-nephew because his father was her sister's son. I was related to the Crossley family itself. I scribbled it out on the last page in my rough note-book and the diagram, I hoped, made it clearer for him. Two or three others came over to see what we were talking about but family relationships were not interesting to them. In the end, as I was also getting bored with it all, I said to Roo I had some rugger shorts which were too small for me, would his brother like them? As I couldn't take them round this Saturday perhaps I could bring them the next Saturday at half-past one and he was sure Kanga would be grateful. Bring them round? Seemed odd. I could have given them to him at school. But, no, he was insistent I should deliver them in person and reiterated the time.
Tom was waiting at the bike-sheds after school and said we had better get going before anyone else tagged on. Another most insistent person! We ended up at his house as he wanted to show me a photo of Duncan taken during his first fortnight of training. It looked just like Duncan, except his hair was almost non-existent. And his battle-dress uniform. It looked at least two sizes too big. But Tom was so pleased about his brother and I had to hear the contents of his last letter which seemed to consist entirely of descriptions of marching up and down. He could have learned how to do that in Henry Gale's mob!
In the end, after I had gauged that even Tom had exhausted any interest of his own in Dunc's marching capabilities, I ventured to ask about Tom's holiday time. I then got a diatribe on how good Nobbo and Hal were. They had spent a fortnight at BB camp. Nothing was forthcoming about that at the moment. But, when they weren't there they had gone out almost every day. Tom on his magnificent new machine, they trailing, obviously, on older, less pristine examples of the bicycle-makers trade. However, Tom had led them into all sorts of far-off places. None so good as the old Abbey, I thought. I was wrong. Tom then divulged, that, as Nobbo had told me, dear Hal was a wank-devotee. Tom laughed and said that whenever they stopped to take a breather Hal could spot an old barn, a derelict building or a group of trees. Most of the time he did it to wind poor old Nobbo up but, Tom said, they did have a couple of wanks apiece most days. Plausibly, he said it was to relieve Nobbo's anxieties as the kid would have kept him awake half the night pleading to be tossed off. Tom, Tom, someone is pulling my leg! You've never said no to a hand on your cock and, having two willing helpers, even better! At least he had one willing helper today and wanted to know how I got so sun-tanned. He was even more impressed when I told him I had learned to sail and to swim.
I spent nearly two hours doing Huggy's maths homework. I knew I would have a worried Matt on my tail very soon. Who the hell Apollonius was was nobody's business, some ancient Greek who should have had his balls cut off at birth, I thought, as I looked at his bloody theorem. How the hell did he devise such a mind-bending piece of work? Just getting one's tongue round the business of 'in any triangle, the sum of the squares on two sides is equal to twice the square on half the third side'... and so on, and on, and on. Oh Lord, I then realised it was an extension of Pythagoras. Oh, it then got more interesting. I then tried for obtuse angles. Yes! I did the five examples Huggy had given, then attempted another five or so, even one which involved proving a triangle as part of a tetrahedron. When I went down for something to eat about nine o'clock Pa had just arrived back from London looking tired. However, he asked what I had been doing. I fetched my maths book and showed him. He took ages checking over the original proof in the book and said he couldn't find any fault in my work when he looked at that. I think he was pleased. I heard him talking to Ma later and saying how much more bomb damage he'd noticed while in London and it had been arranged that their next meeting was to be held in Cambridge instead. Otherwise, all had gone well, the report on the discoveries had been accepted with instructions to take the work further.
Bombs and damage. Images I'd only seen in the newspaper before this last visit to London. I lay in bed that night hoping the war would stop soon. I was so worked up about things I just didn't want any relief. Just to get to sleep.
I was all spruced up and inspected by Ma before setting out for Tony's in the afternoon. I'd been friends with him for all these years, spent a lot of time at his house, and now, I had to go all neat and tidy. Of course, mustn't let the Crossley side down.
Nobody bothered! I could have been wearing Lachlan's torn shorts, if they had fitted me except my cock would have dangled, and I would have been just as welcome.
Everybody was in such a happy mood. Tickled pink, as Mrs Marcham said, welcome aboard!. Mr Marcham had a copy of the tentative tree and said it was amazing how two sisters could have married so many miles apart and unknowing descendants of both had met and married. And..., I was the result!
I was very polite and asked how Tony's gran was. Kats made a face and Tony had a fixed smile. I don't think the visit and stay was a great success. I also noticed that Kats went out of her way to be nice to me. Passing plates at tea. Asking about my holiday, and so on. Tony sat with a smug look. What had he been saying? Anyway it wasn't an ordeal - they weren't worried if I had a better claim on Ulvescott Manor as Lizzie Tilson wanted to know. Ulvescott was only mentioned in passing, when I said how I had stayed there with Tim Parker and his playing to Lady Bing. Mr Marcham said he had been to the memorial service and had heard the brothers play and had been very impressed. I said my goodbyes about seven and went home and had some more to eat at supper time. I also lifted my weights sixty-five times watching in the mirror. My cock also lifted on its own accord on lifts sixty- one to sixty-five, so, I just had to make it lie down, twice.
Sunday it was peeing with rain as I set out on my run. I started a bit later than usual and helped poor, wet Tom with about half his paper-round. He'd got a Boys' Brigade parade at eleven o'clock and because so many senior members had been called up he was now a king-pin in parade duties. Hal had been persuaded to join as well and he was having drumming lessons from Nobbo. Paradiddling to their hearts' content I thought.
I spent the day practising the piano, being cross-questioned about Mrs Cameron and the boys in French and in German, doing Mrs Riley's homework and listening to a concert on my wireless in the evening. Oh, and sixty-five lifts of the weights again and two wanks to calm down.
Tomorrow night I must do some counting up as Tuesday will be the anniversary of that greatest day in my life so far. The day I found I could squirt spunk!!!!!!!!
Up bright and early. Even the weather wasn't too bad. Ran, mooched around after breakfast so a frantic dash to get to school on time. As I thought, Matt was hovering. And so were a couple of others. Help! Maths! Help!
I and Dave Morgan were thus in demand at break-time. Matt was still dubious about seeing when two lines are the same length. I said as the work didn't have to be in until Wednesday he could come round on Tuesday after school and we would look at it again. Gosh, Huggy must have put the fear of God into us as most people had had a go at the work at the weekend instead of leaving it until Tuesday evening. Wet day Sunday and you can't wank non-stop - unless your name is Hal! Maths second best thing! Bah!!
Busy evening, Mrs Tring and a piano lesson. I told her about Tim's visit to see Lady Bing and my meeting young Georgie. She smiled and said if I practised I could do quite well, too. St John's was fine. Another boxing match on Friday night the twenty-second. Pat was to be up against some lad from out of town so didn't know how he would do. What a sport! Knocking the sweet Jesus out of each other. He said his friend at the garage had taken my advice and the chemist had told him if he hadn't been in to have his arm cleaned up he would probably have had blood poisoning. Most gratifying to know I had given sound advice. I wondered how his mate's dick was? Had that healed or was he still fraying at the edges? Oh Gawd! Paraphrase!
As soon as I went up to my bedroom after getting home and having some cocoa and a bun I got my diaries out and started to tot up my scores. I hoped I had been accurate - there were a couple of dates I had either put the crosses in later or wasn't sure but, my total cums of any kind for the year worked out as six hundred and fifteen and nothing so far for today! Not quite two a day, but when I looked at my monthly totals I could see that for the first six months I had been fairly constant in the forties. Whoosh, either spring had come with a vengeance, or something inside me was on the rampage, or my horny friends had helped me more, but in April and May I hit seventy per month! Then a slight drop, averaging in the fifties for the past three months. Slight drop? I had experienced some of my most intense climaxes during that time and especially over the past month.
I looked in the top drawer of my dressing-table because I had put the piece of paper which detailed Piers' wanking totals in there. I laughed when I looked at his totals, 1915, eight hundred and fifty-eight, 1916, nine hundred and twelve, 1917, eight hundred and ninety. Crumbs, that was one thing Piers was better at than me. He was well in advance of me when it came to...., came to what? Coming! My total was puny compared with his. But then in 1915 he was older than me. Would I increase my rate when I was 15, 16, 17? I wondered what Matt's total might be? Huh, and as for Pat Halloran, even if he only averaged twenty a week that would be more than a thousand a year! I knew Matt wasn't keeping a diary but, Tony was. I would have to ask him his score!!
I looked at my other symbols. So, I had experienced mutual release of our seed with at least thirty-one other boys. But, so much more importantly within that assemblage of mainly single encounters was the small group with whom I had shared much greater intimacies. These few were the ones I would remember with love and gratitude. And, so to bed and the final two wanks of my first year of full awareness of my sexual feelings and expression. I suppose I had been like young Aladdin over this past year, awakening to the pleasures and powers of my own magic lamp!
To be continued:.............