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 39
Part 2
Kerslake
So, I missed my run. Needless to say Tom was at the backdoor just after nine o'clock thinking something was wrong as I hadn't met up with him to deliver the last of his papers. We didn't enlighten him that a main reason was extra tiredness through wanton sexual activity but from his knowing looks I guessed he had an inkling. Poor Tom. A lonely bed for him while I had Flea as a willing companion in bed until term started!
However, Tom kindly loaned Flea his brother's bike - with saddle suitably lowered - and the three of us explored Kerslake that morning. We had to go to the garage as Pa wanted some batteries for his ARP torch and Sean was there looking as cheerful as ever. I was greeted effusively and he showed where the jagged cut on his arm had healed very nicely after I'd suggested he got the chemist to look at it. I was the healer incarnate in his eyes and he said he would be boxing on the second Friday in January and hoped I'd be there. Just in case, I thought.
We were just coming out of the cathedral which Flea insisted he wanted to see when we bumped into Elizabeth Tilson. She deigned to recognise me and said she was visiting her father, the Canon, as well as doing some shopping for Miss Pike. I said that Andrew and I were coming over to Ulvescott next week which she barely listened to. At that moment a clergyman appeared and it was her father. What a difference! He was very nice. He wanted to know who we were and when his daughter said I was one of the boys who played the piano at Ulvescott for Mrs Crossley and that I was really a Crossley he smiled and said that Tim Parker was going to have an organ lesson in about ten minutes, why didn't we wait and listen. Elizabeth departed and he then showed us a couple of old tombs of knights who had been on the Crusades. He explained that the sign for this was that their recumbent figures in armour had their legs crossed and this was the way it was denoted. Gosh, these were eight hundred years old and still here!
Just then the organ started. After a few notes the Canon whispered it was a Bach Prelude in E flat, smiled and left. We sat and listened as the cathedral was filled with the wonderful sounds. If that was Tim there were few hesitancies and the music swelled, then stopped. We listened as three times he started and each time the playing sounded more confident. Georgie was right. 'Thass ould Bach' was wonderful. In the end, during a silence where Tim must have been being given instruction we slipped out. Tom said it all sounded marvellous and Flea said Bastable's room-mate Wilkie was having organ lessons at school.
I wanted to know more about his school life having heard bits on holiday but as it wasn't of interest to Tom we left it at that for the moment. The proposed visit to Ulvescott had come about because in my Christmas card from Lachs and Flea there was a note that one of the older masters had found more photographs of Piers Crossley when he was at the school and had given them to the boys to pass on. Ma had 'phoned Mrs Crossley and Flea and I had been invited over for three days from January the second.
We arrived back home in time for lunch. Tom was invited to stay and he did, scoffing away with me knowing he'd get another lunch as soon as he got home!
We told Ma and Pa about our visit to the cathedral and meeting Canon Tilson and the history lesson about the knights. Pa laughed and said they probably had their legs crossed as public lavatories were most likely few and far between in the desert, which got a giggle from us boys and a reproving look from Ma. I quickly went on to say we'd heard Tim Parker being given an organ lesson and how wonderful it sounded. This was the cue for Ma to remind me I hadn't done enough practice and that an hour was needed as soon as lunch had settled.
Luckily, Flea liked music so I played for more than an hour with him sitting contentedly reading a book and commenting, favourably I might add, on my playing. He did say after three of the pieces that Georgie had played them on Boxing Day when the Cameron- Thomsons - as they were now known in the village - had had a Christmas party and a good time was had by all. Cameron! Of course, the kilt I'd worn was the Cameron tartan. As it had come from Mrs Buchanan's uncle and Tom's second name was Cameron it must be a family name there. I said this to Flea but he pointed out there were probably millions and millions of Camerons but we could ask.
That evening Ma and Pa had been invited to a dinner and dance and wanted to know if we minded being left to our own devices. Ma had made soup and there were sausages for supper so we were in our element. After they went off, Pa in dinner jacket and Ma in the blue dress she had worn at the wedding, we boys settled in front of a roaring fire and chatted. I wanted to know more about his school.
"How's your new room-mate?" I asked, "Had a funny name, double-barrelled, like yours now!" I knew a bit of it was Temple as I had seen a headline in the paper recently that Archbishop Temple had died.
"Oh, Titty Temple-Tempest!" laughed Flea, "He's great. We have lots of fun. He's got a flaming temper, though, matches his flaming hair!" I must have looked puzzled. "His hair. It's bright red. Titty goes round saying his mother says it's Titian but Potty said that was only a polite way to say he'd got ginger pubes!" He laughed. "Titty really lost his temper at that and threatened to punch Potty and called him a cunt but Potty gave him a whack with his stick and told him to cool down and apologise. Titty does swear a lot but both Lachs and Potty have told me not to copy him and I don't." He laughed.
"He got another whack after the carol service. Potty heard him singing rude words and said he was sacrilegious."
He smirked at me. "You know, 'While shepherds washed their socks at night...."
I nodded, but our version wasn't rude.
"......All seated on a bank,
An Angel of the Lord came down..."
Oh, no, I thought!
"...And taught them how to...." He stuck his tongue out at me. "I didn't say it!"
"We both thought it," I said. "Potty should be here to whack you as well!"
But, Potty and a stick?
"Why does Potty have a stick?" I asked.
Andrew looked puzzled himself, then smiled. "Oh, I probably haven't told you. Potty has a limp. He caught polio when he was about seven and it's left him with a gammy leg."
"But I thought he was a Sergeant?" I remembered an early interaction between Lachs and Flea. "Doesn't he have to march?"
Andrew smiled again. "Yes, he is a Sergeant. He was made Chief Clerk and he doesn't have to go on parade. But he's very smart and he makes sure we're all smart in our House. Potty's great company and he's helped me loads with my work. He's been accepted for Oxford next year so I'm going to miss him."
Yeah, and I bet Lachs would miss the litany of 'Potty says'!
"What's Potty's real name?" I asked.
Flea laughed. "I didn't find out until this year. Everyone, including the masters, calls him Potty. He's really Douglas Potterton, Esquire. I saw it on a letter he had. Official looking one and he said it was from Oxford."
Potty, Titty, Dumpy, they all had nick names! Masters at our school tended to call us by our surnames. It was only last year that Huggy called any of us by our first names. Even I had called out 'Gale' when I asked him the question. I wouldn't have dared to call him Henry!
Flea grinned at me. "Shouldn't tell you this really 'cause it's a secret at the moment but Lachs has been recommended to become an Under Officer this term. Usually you have to be eighteen but Captain Harrison has made a special recommendation. Potty says he deserves it, he's done very well at everything."
"I thought you said it was a secret. 'Potty says', eh?"
"Potty knows everything. He found out it was Anthony Milverton who blabbed to Captain Harrison about the roses for Piers. He got a whack from Potty's stick for that - pretty hard, too. He blubbed after that and told Cartwright, who he fags for, and he gave him a stinger as well and told him to mind his own business in future. Milverton's a real sneak and he never learns."
We chatted on for ages as we both had lots to find out about each other. I learned more about Titty. He had the same problem as cousin Rhys.
"Titty's younger than your cousin Rhys but he's got those bloody awful spots, like him. Poor little fucker...." I silenced him by putting a finger over his lips. He grinned in his elfish manner. "So--oo-ry, shouldn't call him little 'cause he's much taller then me." He grinned again as I put on a stern face. "I know, I know, I'll try." He looked at me, fluttering his lashes winsomely. "You'll forgive me. Potty says...." I stopped the litany. "OK, OK," he said once my fingers left his lips. "I promise. I'll only use those words when really needed - and I only say the other to tease. Anyway, Titty's got spots and with his red hair it spoils his beauty..." Another impish grin, "Potty says!"
I ignored that and told him about the Foster twins and the way one was always picked on. He'd had his cock inked and then he'd been tied to the tree. Flea said they'd had a boy who played up a lot.
"Batty Noyes was always getting into trouble with the beaks. He was also getting some of us jankers as well."
My questioning look made him stop.
"Oh, jankers means we had extra work to do."
I asked about the name.
"Oh, we called him Batty 'cause he was. Quite bats. He used to do daft things like hang a sheet out of the dorm window so it flapped at the window below. Made the youngsters down there shit themselves with fright..." He held up a hand before I had a chance to tell him off. "...'cause they thought it was a ghost. Then he'd put balloons filled with water in people's beds." He looked artfully at me. "Some of them burst so the kids got into trouble because the Matron thought they'd....." He held his hand up again. "....pissed the bed. Some kids do and they can't help it." He nodded his head knowledgably. "Captain Harrison said we weren't to rag anyone who did 'cause boy's plumbing takes time to settle down. Anyway, lads in his dorm corridor got a bit fed up so they blacked his balls with boot polish and painted his thing with blanco we put on our belts." He looked at me mischievously. "Potty says he was the Noyes with the luminous dong!"
He got the last out quickly before I could stop him. We then roared with laughter. Edward Lear reversed!
In the end, laughing and giggling over all the remembered tales, we decided to go up to bed about ten o'clock. We sat up in bed, side by side, drinking mugs of cocoa and still chattering, until, mugs laid aside and the light switched out, we clasped each other tightly.
"You know what you promised," he murmured breathily in my ear as we clung to each other, "Can we wait until we get to Ulvescott?"
"Why?" I asked.
"I think Piers would want us to," was his only response.
I couldn't get him to say anything more. In fact I was immediately distracted as he launched himself downwards in the bed and found my ever-ready prick with his open mouth. When I tried to move down to him he stopped me and made me lie still until he had completed his loving task. Whether he had practised since those times in the summer I didn't know but he made my whole body and being vibrate with the fervour of his love- making. It was true love-making - not just a casual encounter between two horny teenagers. I felt he wanted me, and needed me, and desired me in a way I had rarely felt before, perhaps only in such intensity with Lachs and Matt and Tom. I was truly exhausted when I, at last, came. Flea knew that and oh so tenderly embraced me and shared my seed with me, our tongues touching, caressing, our breathing becoming as one in synchrony. We lay together for so long we both fell asleep. His own release was to occur much, much later, well after we had been slightly aroused by the sounds of my parents returning. Sometime, I guess about 2 a.m. I reciprocated as best I could. His soft moans of delight only served to increase my desire to make this an experience he would remember with love and affection as an act between two dear, dear friends.
I woke again about five o'clock. It was pitch dark in the room so I crept out of bed and pulled the blackout curtains back. It was still dark outside but there was just enough light to see the curled-up figure of Andrew in the bed. I got back in and gently enfolded him in my arms. He made a contented mewing sound as he nestled against my shoulder. I fell soundly asleep again.
A gentle nip on my shoulder woke me again.
"Come on lazy-bones," Flea whispered, "It's gone seven o'clock and we're going for a run."
Somehow he'd disentangled himself from my arms and was already dressed in shorts, rugger shirt and a pullover on top.
"Looks chilly outside so you'd better get something warm on and get a move on when we're out there."
He dangled my jockstrap over my face.
"I didn't pinch this to wear - still a bit too big. Come on, out!"
I thought back to Georgie and the 'gret dumb beasts'. This dumb beast almost fell out of bed and clothes were handed over in quick succession. I dressed and slipped my plimsolls on and was ready. If I thought I kept up a steady pace as I ran then Andrew was at least my equal. We ran side by side steadily through the dawning light and every now and then I pointed out a landmark. One, of course was the fateful driveway in Cathedral Drive where I'd discovered the forlorn Henry Gale. That was a tale still to be recounted - not while running. Tom had only just started his paper round when we found him. That was finished in record time with three of us. He said he had a busy day as he had a big Boys' Brigade parade that morning and he and his mother had been invited out to tea at the Minister's.
Andrew and I spent the rest of Sunday indoors. It was pretty miserable outside as it began to snow a bit so I got the steam engine up and running which fascinated him. There were various devices, including the weird and wonderful Meccano constructions that Mike had made, which could be run from it. Andrew said the only thing missing was a threshing machine and a load of rabbits like on Mr Catchpole's farm. That set us reminiscing about the summer holidays, plus another bit of news.
"You know that Peggy Finch," he said.
I remembered Georgie's revelation that she was expecting, too. I nodded.
"She had a baby," he said, "A boy. She calls it Johnnie." He giggled.
"One of the boys in the village told Lachs she called it that 'cause it escaped through a hole in one!"
He looked at me in case I needed any explanation. No. Rubber johnnies or French letters were mentioned more and more frequently in the conversations of us growing boys. Perhaps, not in mine, but I listened in to plenty of increasingly bawdy exchanges -especially those of the rougher element in 5S. Not really rougher, even the boot-wearing Cadets were good lads, but, perhaps, earthier. If one was to believe all that one heard there were increasing connections between some lads and especially the girls of the High School, or even better, the Holy Ursuline Convent. Girls from there - which incidentally had educated, or currently educated, Mike's and Ginger Hare's sisters - were deemed to be exceptionally hot and raring for 'it'. The ultimate for these girls, so we were led to believe, was to be in the arms of a member of the First XV Rugby team. Ugh, Fatty Prosser in the front row would, I should think, put any girl off. In any case, since he got belted in the balls at the boxing match I wondered if he would be in need of a rubber johnnie!
I laughed and then confessed my experiment with Chris's specimen. I then found he'd never seen one so an entertaining five minutes was spent with my description also of the one given to me by Gareth and recounting the joint efforts of Matt and myself in trying that one out.
When we'd giggled through that Flea laughed.
"The people in the village though call the kid Sailor. Georgie said he wrote to his brother to tell him the news and said the kid had brown eyes to let him know it wasn't his 'cause all his family had blue eyes and so did Peggy." Flea hesitated. "Would that be true?"
I said I thought it was. It had been mentioned in Biology. Both Ma and Pa had blue eyes and so did I. I remembered Georgie's clear blue eyes. There was something about brown eyes being dominant and if Georgie had said that in the letter I guessed, knowing Georgie, he would be right.
That night in bed we repeated our encounter of the night before except that this time we both came copiously twice before dropping off to sleep. I was the one that night that mewed with pleasure as Flea so expertly drew my boiling-up spunk from deep within me that second time. I was too weak after the first time to make any other noise. When that act was completed Flea gave me back a goodly proportion of my load as we pressed our tongues together and we were satiated and slept the sleep of the well-content.
Monday morning. New Year's Day! Pa was home and Flea and I helped him set up the small box-room as a writing den for Ma. He said it was just the place for her to hibernate and he would be pleased as she complained about all the smoke from his pipe in the study.
That afternoon Tom came round and while Pa and Ma retired to their respective dens us three boys repaired to my bedroom and giggled through happenings such as the Christmas lunch, Tom and my contribution's to Nobby and Cleggy's collection, the finding of Henry Gale and several titbits from life at Flea's school.
After Tom went we packed ready to go to Ulvescott the next day. That evening Flea brought down the photographs the master had given him. After supper he laid them out on the dining room table. There were ten of them. Seven were of groups and three of him either alone or with another boy. The master had written on the back of each who were in the groups. It was odd but I knew where to look in each photo to find Piers. I didn't tell the others but I tested myself on the last two, a rugger team and a boxing team.
I looked each time directly at where he was standing. Uncanny! One, of himself and Miles Buchan, taken close-up with just head and shoulders of each, could have been a photo of me, perhaps in a year's time. Ma kept looking from it to me.
We were early to bed and kept our interaction to one slowly-attained tremendous orgasm each. Flea made the point of calling me Pierre as he came.
Flea insisted we went for a run even though we had to be at the bus station by half past nine. I made him run just that little bit faster though. My longer legs helped. I did relent though as we found Tom and helped him finish his round. He said he was going to see Nobbo and the others and I reminded him not to waste too much time and get his homework done! I didn't say I still had most of mine still to do.
Well, well, well, who should be waiting for the bus but Tim Parker! He said he'd been invited to go and see Lady Bing for more playing and instruction about operas and singing and accommodation had been arranged for him in the village. We said we had heard him at the Cathedral and he said he was enjoying his lessons. He said that Canon Tilson was paying for his lessons there because of the way his piano playing at the memorial service had been so favourably commented on.
Of course, on arrival at the gates of the Manor Bran was waiting. Another friend was introduced and we were led very sedately to the kitchen door where Mrs Brown was waiting to welcome us as the ladies were out with the chickens. I think Flea was suitably impressed with the size of the Manor and he certainly liked our bedroom. Before he had a chance to inspect all the photos I showed him the Horsebox and he just stood and giggled. I said when he met my friend Tony he would realise the room just matched him!
Quite spontaneously Flea remarked that he thought the Manor was a happy place. Certainly, Bran made him feel welcome, because as soon as we had unpacked we went for a walk round the now-cultivated grounds. I was a bit unsure of how Andrew might react on meeting Hans or Herr Vogel because of the loss of his father. Only Hans was in the barn and the greeting was very warm. Both fair-haired, one a giant to the other, but they shook hands with smiles on their faces. I thought again. What are enemies?
In fact, although I didn't know it Flea was doing German as well as French at school and, although, not fluent, he could converse simply. I though we could tease Tom by speaking in German together at home! Also, Ma could help him before he went back to school.
Lunch was ready when we got back and Mrs Crossley and Miss Pike were both there. Another warm welcome for Andrew. There was plenty to talk about but the ladies were having another crisis in the chicken runs and had to be off. We wandered around again after lunch then went to the bedroom where Flea perused the pictures very carefully. He said he recognised all the bits of the school in the backgrounds. He said neither he nor Lachs had taken up rowing as they didn't feel big enough but Lawson and Cartwright were in the rowing squad.
I found that Lawson and Lachs were now quite pally since the thugs had departed ignominiously and, so Flea said, quite a few of the Remove had recovered some sense - possibly in their big toes as that was the size of the brain of most, though from the boasts of some of them their brains were more likely in their balls. He said Wilkie was helping him with his work too and he wasn't such a know-all now. I said it must be funny living all the time with so many other boys. Flea said they were all so used to it they never thought about it except when you had problems with someone like the thugs. Generally, the older lads seemed to keep an eye on the younger ones especially if they were assigned as fags. He laughed and said Cartwright got the thin edge of the wedge as he had sneaky Milverton. He said the Remove lads were rather resentful because, although some of them were getting on for eighteen, they didn't qualify for fags like the Sixth-Formers, so they tended to take it out on the younger ones. This was the basis for Lawson's attack on Lachs, but that was now all in the past.
We went down early before dinner in the evening as I wanted to play the grand piano. Lizzie Tilson and Miriam were at dinner that evening so I made a point of saying how kind her father was in showing us the monuments. She didn't quite sniff her displeasure at having scruffy snot-nosed youngsters in the Cathedral but we got the impression that was her opinion of us. She did prick up her ears when I imparted the knowledge that Julia Ward was now engaged.
After the two girls had gone when dinner was over Flea showed Mrs Crossley and Miss Pike the pictures and I gave Mrs Crossley the medal. She immediately gave it back to me and said I was to keep it. After Flea had said that the master had said Mrs Crossley could keep the photographs she picked up the one of Piers and Miles and handed it to me with a smile and no comment.. I was overwhelmed. As soon as I had seen the photograph I wished it could be mine. I would treasure that. I told Mrs Crossley that and I could see she was close to tears.
We snuggled up close in bed that night and recounted all the happenings of the day. We just fell asleep. Neither of us needed anything else to complete such a day. Ordinary, maybe, but so satisfying.
The weather was not very good so we spent the day with Hans in the barn in the morning and exploring the African artefacts and Piers' belongings in the afternoon.
Andrew had all things planned for bed that night. I had finished all my ablutions long before Andrew came through from the bedroom into the bathroom. Because of the General's engineering skills the Manor was warm as toast even on a cold winter's night and young Flea wandered in quite in the nude. No goose-bumps, blue extremities or shivers, just a less than golden body I'd remembered from the summer, his tan, like mine, had faded somewhat. I was also in the altogether and was just combing my unruly hair to make myself look presentable in bed when he padded in.
"Won't be long," he announced, "You'll find things organised in there."
What was this? A military operation? A full-blown skirmish against the foe? I finished combing and, as he got into the bath of hot water I had so carefully topped up for him, I sauntered into the bedroom. Things were ready. There were four strips of towel folded on a chair by the bedside. Also, there was the jar of Vaseline I remembered having seen last in October in the boathouse. I got into bed and snuggled down. I hoped this wasn't going to be a military engagement, a carefully planned enterprise down to the last dotted crotchet - Oh, Jacko, a new idiom I'd just made up - what did I actually mean? Crossed t's and dotted i's, I assumed. My mind was in a whirl. I wanted to be with Flea. I wanted him in bed with me and whatever would happen, I hoped, would just happen. I waited and waited, he was taking an age in there. I was getting restless. At last I heard the light switch click off and he was by the bed.
"Took a little longer," he apologised.
He climbed into bed and I reached out and switched the overhead light off. It was very, very dark. We turned to each other. Two warm bodies embraced, I hugged him tight and he responded in kind. He grazed my cheek with the tip of his tongue. That simple act sent shivers up and down my spine and my half-ready cock took another lurch upwards to total hardness. The tongue tip traced a pattern across my lips and down my chin. My head jolted back. I let go of him as I almost went rigid all over with the feelings as the tongue meandered under my chin. My hips jerked with the intensity of the nervous jolts in my spine. Each nipple was explored, the light touch roving in no set design round, under, over, setting off even more incredible vibrations all over me. My thighs shuddered as the tongue moved back upwards until it pressed between my lips. I was lost in time. That tongue entered my mouth and explored the whole cavity of my mouth. I don't know if I even breathed as my toes beat against the covers and Andrew crawled on top of me. His arms were round my neck as he removed his tongue and his head moved until his mouth was by my right ear. The tongue flicked at my lobe.
"Roll me over on me back and lie on top of me, please. Slowly, please."
He had things planned so well. As we turned I felt him put a hand out and retrieve pieces of towel. The bed was wide enough for him to position the towel where the base of his spine and legs would be. When he was settled with me arched over him he whispered again.
"Get me ready. I want you so badly, but not yet."
It was my turn to feel for the chair. I located the jar and the cap was almost off, ready. I dipped my two first fingers in and then smeared the thick jelly under me around that tight young pucker. He sighed and opened his legs very wide and encircled my shoulders with his arms as best he could..
"Don't do anything yet," he whispered, "Just lie on top of me."
I lowered myself but made sure I wasn't crushing him. I supported most of my weight with my forearms and knees on the bed. Our bodies pressed together, groin to groin. I could feel his own hardness side by side with my lengthier shaft.
"Lachs told me how wonderful it was with you that weekend," he whispered in my ear, "Even more than in the summer. He said you made him so happy. He said we would do it just once more but we were to wait." He brushed my earlobe with his tongue. "We waited. I fucked Lachs on Christmas Eve and then he fucked me early Christmas morning. We said they were the best Christmas presents we had ever had." He snickered very softly. "Lachs has grown since the summer," he went on, "Down there." Crumbs, I thought. That over six inches of young man meat was very impressive then. "He's got thicker," explained Flea, "He was worried in case it hurt me but it didn't." He touched my lobe again. "It was so wonderful I held him in me for as long as he could stand it." His head moved under me and his lips searched for mine. "I want you in me when we're ready," he murmured.
We locked lips and gently touched our tongues together. It was amazing. Those gentle nuzzles were even more arousing than those violent tongue-fucks I'd experienced before with either Lachs or Flea. I was past thinking about anything except those feelings flowing between us. I wanted just these tender moments to last for ever but knew underneath we both wanted much more to bring us to some cataclysmic culmination of trust and love between us. Very slowly I withdrew my right arm and felt down between us. I held myself up a bit to allow access. I ran my fingers down either side of that short, rampant tube of flesh solidly upright against mine on his belly. He gasped and his tongue touching began to get more urgent. I caressed his balls, already hard young nuts drawn up on either side of the base of his prick. I moved down and pressed on that sensitive area between his balls and his hole. His wide apart legs now lifted and crossed over the small of my back.
As my forefinger explored the area around his hole so we began to tongue-fuck in earnest. His hot breath poured into my open mouth and I blew back as we shared even the same air. I pressed and my finger tip entered him. There was no change in his breathing but his tongue was now like a mad sticky animal darting in and out of my mouth.
As slowly as I could I pushed further in, then withdrew and two fingers entered him. This time his breathing did change, his head rocking from side to side, his tongue vainly trying to find my still open mouth. He was in a frenzy already and I had hardly started. I stayed still with both fingers well inside him until that initial frenzy subsided a bit. Slowly I pushed, then withdrew a bit feeling his ring becoming even more relaxed. I was ready to enter him properly.
"Please, Pierre," he whispered, "I need you."
That was the signal I needed. Strangely, just at that moment, a seemingly warm breeze blew over my naked back. My positioned cock touched his hole as I withdrew my fingers. His tongue stopped its movement and I arched up away from him as I slowly sank into him, inch by inch. We had both stopped breathing and as my furry bush touched his balls we both took a deep breath. I was his and he was mine.
We lay quite still for a long time. I could felt my shaft held tight by him pulsing with every heartbeat. Our hearts must have been in synchrony because I knew that somehow he was compressing its length inside him with the same incessant rhythm.
"Wonderful, wonderful," he sighed," "Fuck me now."
Up till then was another moment I wanted to last for ever. Now on that order, nay, on that loving request, I pulled myself back and pushed myself forward a tenth of an inch by tenth of an inch, a quarter of an inch by a quarter of an inch, an inch by an inch, until my steel-like rod was moving, slowly, inexorably, like that piston I'd seen on the steam engine at Georgie's grandfather's farm. That simile somehow stuck in my almost addled brain as the power surged in my groin and forced its way into Andrew as far as it could go. I don't think my prick had ever been so hard, nor felt so long and thick. I filled him at the completion of every unrestrained thrust with everything I had. As my relentless thrusts continued as slowly as I dared without breaking the pattern so our breathing as well as our heartbeats synchronised. Somewhere, sometime, Andrew gave an unholy gasp and I felt his boy seed spray between us. A warm rain of his now so creamy cum. I held onto not climaxing as long as I could. I tried to let my mind wander but, because of the time, the place, the occasion, whatever I thought about slipped into the background and that mighty feeling of oneness of two souls in accord just came to the fore. Once too often it came to the fore and I came. Deep and ever deeper thrusts carried my gift to Andrew as far into his being as it could possibly go. We collapsed together, mouths open, breathing each other's air again in complete unity.
I couldn't withdraw. Neither of us wanted me to withdraw so three times we came, twice more I helped him pour out his wonderful semen, twice more I flooded his channel with so much of my spunk I wondered how he could contain it. He didn't. Even after my first tremendous outpouring there was a considerable leakage onto the towels bunched under his rump. By the third occasion he was so slippery I think I only shot in the end as his muscles massaged my still rock-hard prick with their vice-like grip. We must have been locked together from start to finish for more than two hours. But at no time did we labour at the task. We were both glowing rather than perspiring freely even at the end. All our energy was concentrated in making sure both had complete and utter satisfaction. Both of us were drained, of spunk, of energy, of everything but complete happiness with each other.
I was still hard as I withdrew. There was a strange squelching and plopping noise as my prick finally came away from him. I must have produced as much spunk as Nobbo and Cleggy's combined wank warriors on one of their best days! We both giggled.
Having sex together was so enjoyable and also had its funny side. I whispered I'd never felt so marvellous. I felt his head nod against mine. He was speechlessly happy. I slid out of bed, almost staggering weakly as I moved to the bathroom. I washed my oh-so-tender cock and my belly, stomach and chest, sticky with Flea's partially dried cum, and, on return, mopped Flea's own torso with a spare piece of towel and tucked the other pieces in the bed between his legs to stop signs of seepage. We kissed for a moment and then snuggled together and slept. Before he dropped off he nuzzled my cheek and whispered, "Thanks".
I was first awake. I thought back to what had happened. I'd had wonderful sex, just like that with friends like Matt and Tom, but never with the intensity of that last and final encounter with Lachs nor with that last and final encounter with dear Flea last night. Both of those were something special and I knew I would never experience anything like that again. It was my turn to give myself to Andrew in repayment. Again, I was groping for words. Repayment seemed so facile and almost mercenary in meaning. I wanted Flea to feel as I did the night before, pouring my whole heart and soul with my gift of life's seed. I knew boys could never have the result of such union as other loving couples such as Mike's sister, Kathleen, and Eamonn could have, but I knew our union would bear the fruit of a lifelong friendship which no one could destroy. I knew that was true for Lachs and me. I knew that after our next coupling it would be true for Flea and me. I vowed it would be true.
I crept out of bed. I needed to pee so I did that as quietly as I could in the gloom of the dark bathroom. I came back and pulled the thick curtains at the window.
It had snowed heavily in the night. The scene was magical. A white, unbroken carpet stretched out from the terrace. I sat on the window-seat and looked out. I felt the warmth of the radiator under the window. I remembered that warm breeze. Was it the warm air from above the radiator wafting across the room?
The slight lightening of the room with the noise of the curtain runners must have roused Flea.
"Jacko!" he called softly, "Where are you?"
He sat up in the bed and saw me sitting by the window.
"Come back, please."
I went back to the bed and got in beside him. We hugged each other while he whispered such words of thanks I felt very moved. Each time I tried to tell him how much I felt in agreement with him he hushed me by putting a finger on my lips and continued to murmur what feelings of harmony and friendship he had. I kissed his forehead but then he startled me.
"Piers was with us last night," he said, very matter-of-factly, "He was with us, I felt he was here. He's our friend. He's content."
I was flabbergasted. What did he mean? Strange words to use. I remembered the warm breeze again.
"I know," I said. There was nothing more to say.
We stirred our stumps well in time for breakfast. Flea's piece of towel was saturated with my almost dried spunk. He carefully rolled it in a old piece of newspaper from the bottom of his bag. He asked if I knew where the boiler was. I nodded and grinned. Some things repeat! He also said I wasn't to worry, there was more towel!
If we hadn't been up and about Bran would have woken us. His thumps at the door made Andrew look a bit alarmed as we were both still nude having washed but not dressed. I let Bran in. He gave both of us what could only be called a disdainful look
A 'boys in the nude, bet I know what they've been doing' look. I was certain that dog could think! At least, I knew something about him, too. Him and Mrs Fry's Sally. Naughty dog! He came up to me first and I stroked his head and guided him over to Andrew who, being much shorter than me, didn't seem much taller than Bran when the dog sat on his haunches.
"I like your friend Jacko, Bran," he said to the dog. "He's my new cousin, now. And I'm Piers' friend, too..."
Strange, Bran looked straight at Andrew's eyes and gave a slight 'woof'. He then leaned his head forward and licked Andrew's arm very, very gently. They were friends, too.
We dressed and went downstairs. Mrs Brown and Dora were already in the kitchen having tramped in the snow from the village. The ladies had made an early sortie to the chicken houses to see they were warm and OK after the snowfall. Mrs Crossley came in first, shaking off the snow from her galoshes in the vestibule and calling out that all was well but Miss Pike was sorting out the jobs with the girls.
We had breakfast with Mrs Crossley who said she didn't want Hans to be in the cold barn all day and he could come and do some jobs in the Manor. She wanted furniture moved in all the unused bedrooms so Mrs Brown and other ladies of the village could have a good clean up. She also said she had a list of things that needed doing which the helpful German POW who had done the roof gutter had listed as jobs to be done indoors. There were several cases of loose windows, plaster needing replacing, wood surrounds to be repaired and so on. She also said lots of woodwork needed re-staining and some needed polishing but she had no more of these things and she wondered where she could get them during this War.
I had an idea. If the garage man had bikes from before the War I wondered if George Abbott's father had pre-War stock still in his hardware store? I suggested this and Mrs Crossley visibly brightened. So, at nine o'clock, knowing that George now worked for his father, I used the telephone and he answered as he was in the office in the shop. I announced who I was and said as succinctly as possible, as time on the telephone costs money, that I was staying with Mrs Crossley at Ulvescott Manor and did they have the following items in stock. I read out the list Mrs Crossley had prepared and he, the young businessman, said he would check and ring back. At ten to ten he 'phoned back and said his father had all the items except for the amount of sugar soap needed, but he thought he knew where he could get some more, and everything would be put on the two o'clock bus to Ulvescott for collection.
At ten o'clock, clad in overcoats and galoshes from the pile in the vestibule, Flea and I went to find Hans who was trying to keep warm by sawing up more logs in the barn. We filled a wheelbarrow with logs and took them down to the boiler house in the basement. I nudged Flea. He nodded and disappeared. A while later when I was translating Mrs Crossley's instructions about furniture moving to a much warmer Hans he came into the kitchen with a grin on his face. The warmth of Ulvescott Manor would be added to by several portions of boy cream of the very best quality.
First we changed into the rugger shirts and shorts we had brought in case we went for a run as Mrs Crossley said we would get pretty dirty, then we collected Hans and the list of tasks and went to the first of the bedrooms where Andrew and I helped shift the lighter furniture while he concentrated on heavier stuff. Some things were even too massive for him to move, and we found there was plenty of dust to be cleared! At half past twelve we washed hands and faces and went down to lunch. Hans sat and had lunch with us boys in the alcove off the kitchen. Dora was funny. She was rather wary of Hans - his size, perhaps, then his Germanness - but she kept coming in with more pieces of cold chicken for him. I nudged Flea and whispered that she probably fancied him. Hans cocked an ear at this. I said, in German, 'She likes you'. Andrew, rudely, made a kissing sound. Hans blushed. We two boys laughed, and so did Hans.
After lunch we helped Hans again as there were the rest of the rooms to do. I was rolling up a rug when I heard a squawk from Flea who found himself lifted up and perched on the edge of a tall wardrobe. Next thing I knew, big as I was, I was effortlessly lifted up, held above Hans' head and deposited on the top of the twin wardrobe the other side of the window space.
Hans stood back. He looked from one to the other of us, grinned and beat his chest like Tarzan.
"I am in love with me!" he said in heavily accented English, and beat his chest again.
We both laughed, me with the extra knowledge of how Hans expressed his love with himself!
It took a bit of pleading with him for Hans to get us down. We could have jumped, I suppose, but he put us up there, he could get us down. When he did so we both got a hearty smack on the backside with an imprecation which I think was in his dialect - it sounded like 'Jugend-hund' - young hound. After that it was catch-as-catch-can. We kept teasing him and he caught us and each time smacked us. We were laughing so much we didn't hear Mrs Crossley come into the room. She was laughing too.
"Bran is jumping up and down downstairs. He wants to know what is happening up here." She surveyed the room which was now according to her instructions. She nodded. "I've had a look at the others. Very good. Tea at four o'clock, but clean yourselves up before then." She went up to Hans, patted him on the arm. "Thanks." He bowed, a contented smile on his face.
She went and both Andrew and I jumped on Hans and tried to wrestle him to the floor. We were like a small Flea and big flea though. He was much too strong for us. Then Bran came bounding in and, traitor, he started to help Hans by nudging us with his head and swiping at us with his front paws.
"Mein freund," announced Hans and sat on the floor to be stood over by Bran who proceeded to lick his face with his rough tongue.
By now it was close on half past three. I led the way to our bathroom and the three of us stripped, quite unselfconsciously, as the bath-tub filled with water. Hans stood by the bath as us two younger ones wallowed in the water. He soaped our backs and explained he had two young brothers he had to make sure bathed when he was at home before....
He shrugged his shoulders.... They had been ten and twelve to his seventeen. He looked rather sad when he said he didn't know how they were now. He handed us towels as we got out of the bath. Flea turned to him, and still wet, hugged him round the waist and said he was sorry. I translated that and I saw two tears form in Hans eyes and slowly run down his cheeks. I put out a hand and held his and motioned him to the bath. He said he felt better now and we soaped him much to his amusement. Our amusement occurred when he stepped out of the bath. His massive prick was almost erect. He smiled and wrapped a towel round himself. He grinned as two much younger boys then started to get erect too. He shook his head. "Knaben!"
Of course, nothing further happened. We dressed fully while Hans finished drying himself and slipping his trousers and shirt on. Our next job was to check whether the goods had arrived from Abbott's of Kerslake. Downstairs Mrs Crossley said the lady at the Post Office had 'phoned to said three boxes of things had been left there by the bus-driver. Flea and I took the wheel barrow and, accompanied by Bran, our friend again, set off for the village. We managed two boxes on the barrow but said we would return in the morning for the third and biggest box.
Mrs Crossley was so pleased with all the materials she spent the evening with Miss Pike mapping out the jobs that Hans, with Herr Vogel, when he returned form helping out at Ashburn House, and the other POW who the sergeant-in-charge had said could be spared next week, could start doing on Friday.
We contented ourselves that night in bed with recounting the events of the day, recollections of how we had felt the night before, one hand-assisted release for each, a close hug and a very sound sleep.
To be Continued:....