This is a story of Gay erotic fiction, set in 1920's England. If you are underage: or you or your jurisdiction aren't prepared for reading about two adult men in sexual situations than go away, or enter at your own volition, otherwise read on and enjoy. Any association between these characters and any personages living or dead is purely coincidental and unintentional on the part of the author. Dante
Forward: The 1920's were a time of transition for English society. The ancient class structures were breaking down. The advent of World War I had seen the decimation of the men of the upper classes and the movement of men from the lower echelon into the vacuum in the professions. This was also a time when men born to the landed class were realizing that the land could no longer sustain their way of life and more and more of them were moving into professions like the law and medicine.
In that time period it wasn't unusual for an aristocratic man to have a man servant. They would've lived together; the servant would've helped his employer dress and perhaps slept in an adjacent room. This arrangement could've, and likely did, allow for a pair of socially mismatched men to live a rich love life in the midst of society. This is a story based on English society in the interval between two world wars.
My Chauffeur -Part I-
Cecil Beaufort, only grandson and heir of the sixteenth Earl of Castleford, was sleeping lightly in the casualty ward at Royal Surgeons hospital London. He was senior resident in charge and he would, at the end of the month, be leaving a fully qualified physician. His father had died in the Great War and as the heir to his grandfather's Earldom; he could've followed his school mates into a life at the apex of English society. Or at most, entered the military if he felt he needed a profession, but he had chosen to enter university and pursue medicine. He had always been interested in anatomy and had dissected farm animals that were destined for the larder on his grandfather's estates. The Earl, who doted on the boy, had initially objected but had been persuaded after seeing to it he was accepted at Edinburgh and then the Royal Surgeons; the best appointments that a promising doctor could want.
The ward matron sent the orderly on duty to knock on his small office/sleeping room. Cecil was average in height and slightly built. His face was traditionally aristocratic with high cheekbones and a slightly aquiline nose. His blond hair was well pomaded, parted on the left and combed back from his forehead. His eyebrows were slightly reddish and his mustache was copper colored and also well waxed. He was dressed in a tweed suit but had removed the coat that hung on the back of the office door. He jerked awake to the accustomed knock of the orderly and said, "Right" to the orderlies request that he come to the reception area. He splashed water on his face at the small sink and swallowed some of the ice cold water. Pulled on his white surgery jacket and hurried into the small examination room. The attendants were just putting the stretcher down on the table when he took the small clipboard and asked the Sister what the situation was.
"Well, my lord, the policeman said he broke up a fight between him and another man. He has a knife wound in his upper abdomen and it appears a broken arm." She said.
Cecil had begun to exam the patient as the Sister was talking. The man was about his age, dressed like a worker, dirty dungarees and a soiled jacket. The ward sister was busily cutting his clothes off so Cecil examined his head, his auburn hair spilled into his unfocused blue eyes and his creamy complexion was quickly turning pale. Cecil looked over his patient's head, finding no wounds he looked at his abdomen that was revealed under the sister's sharp scissors. The knife wound was in the left upper quadrant about an inch wide, it was oozing blood. He touched the man's abdomen and the man screamed in pain. He also noted the deformed lower right arm that bespoke a fractured radius and ulna.
"Sister have the matron alert the operating theater I'll need to open his abdomen, I believe the knife has nicked his spleen. I'll ring Dr. Morrison for permission." Cecil said as he picked up the phone on the ward desk.
He quickly explained the situation to his attending and was given permission to operate. The patient was slightly more conscious when he had replaced the receiver and he leaned down near him, looking again at the clipboard he said, "Mr. Kingsley, can you hear me?" He continued when the man groggily nodded, "I'm going to have to operate, I think the knife nicked your spleen. Do you have any family we can contact?"
"Nnn..no," the man slurred and fainted again.
"Go ahead and take him to the theater," Cecil said to the attendants who picked up the stretcher and hurried from the room.
Cecil entered the theater from the sinks where he had scrubbed in and an attendant pulled a sterile gown over Cecil's vest and trousers put a hat on his head and a mask over his mouth and nose. Cecil, and the intern who was assisting, quickly draped the man's abdomen and when the intern who sat at the patient's head and was dropping ether onto a gauze filled screen held over the man's nose and mouth nodded, made an initial incision that lengthened the knife wound. He quickly exposed the spleen that was indeed lacerated and he clamped and removed the injured organ then held out his gloved hand and the assistant slapped the needle holder with the catgut suture into his palm and the intern at the head of the table called off the suture numbers to the Sister so she could write them down. The case proceeded like an exercise in the anatomy lab. Cecil irrigated the blood from the man's abdomen and carefully examined both his large and small intestines for lacerations. Finding none he proceeded to close the abdomen, but inserted a small rubber drain in the wound that would stimulate the patient's body to expel any possible infection which was the gravest danger. The procedure had taken about an hour and the patient's grey color was turning pinker as his body shifted fluid to accommodate the loss of blood. His lips, under the auburn mustache, were pinker and his finger nail beds were less blue also. The attendants took the patient to the post operative ward, after the intern had put his arm in plaster and Cecil pulled off his gown and mask and went back to his office.
When he entered Dickie O'Conner was sitting at the Resident's desk waiting for Cecil to report off the night.
"I hear you've been in theater with a knife wound, how did it go?" Dickie asked.
"Textbook, mate, textbook, the man was lucky the ambulance was nearby, 30 minutes longer and he would've bleed to death. I'm having Baxter type his blood, I'm afraid we'll need to transfuse him. I'll stay and perform the transfusion myself. The ward's full so you'll be busy." Cecil said.
"Thanks old sod," said Dickie, "Still trying to save the poor and afflicted are we? You know I stopped trying to save them my first year of Residency. His types are too plentiful and we'll end up supporting the lot while they hang round the local pub. By all means old man, carry on with your charity case. This time next year I'll be delivering the heirs of your peers and depositing the proceeds."
"Right then," said Cecil, "Mrs. Madden in bed one had a quiet night..." Cecil rattled through report then returned to post operative to see the knife wound.
When he sat down the man's eyes fluttered open for a moment and met the steady grey eyes of Cecil; smiled, mouthed a "thanks" then went back to sleep.
The day Sister brought round the results of Baxter's typing and told Cecil that a man waiting out in the alley matched. Cecil told the sister to bring the man in clean off his arm and setup the transfusion set. Cecil looked over the patient's temperature graph and noted his pulse and respirations were elevated, he still looked very pale and his lips still were tinged with cyanosis. Cecil wrapped the patient's arm in a tourniquet while the sisters setup the tray of needles and syringes and the tramp from the alley was seated in the chair by the bedside. Cecil quickly inserted needles in both men's antecubital vein and proceeded to do a live transfusion from the tramp to the patient. The sister counted the syringes of whole blood and recorded them along with the patient's pulse and temperature. Twelve syringes later, Cecil removed the needles and told the Sister to give the tramp his tot of Rum and a meal, Cecil noted the patient's lips were pink and his complexion was ruddier than before surgery.
"Amazing what a little blood will do isn't it Cecil?"
Cecil turned to see the tall distinguished figure of Dr. Sir Alfred Morrison. "Yes, Sir Alfred, it is. I was afraid he'd lost too much blood to recover. Now, if infection doesn't set in, he should recover given a convalescent period."
"That was good work, my lord, good work indeed. Couldn't have done it better myself. You have the gift of a healing touch, as my old nurse would say; a superstitious Irish woman full of old wives tales and homely remarks." Sir Alfred cleared his throat then looked around to see if the Ward Matron was out of their hearing. "Cecil I need to speak with you in the Attending lounge when you're finished here." He said.
"Of course, Sir, I'll be along momentarily." Cecil replied and wondered what was up. Cecil tucked the sheet around the patient's plastered arm and instructed the ward sister to call him for any elevated temperature and when the patient awakened he could have weak tea or veal broth. He should have all the fluids he could handle. His hand lingered on the brow of the patient noting that it seemed cooler, then nodded to the Sister and went to meet Sir Alfred. Cecil entered the hollowed halls of the Attending Lounge, it reminded him of a rather shabby club lounge with its leather armchairs and sagging sofa. Sir Alfred was sitting at the table that dominated the library alcove writing on a paper. Cecil cleared his throat and Sir Alfred looked up and motioned him to a seat across the table.
"Cecil, I want to commend you again on the handling of that knife wound, you saved that man's life." He paused and looked at the document before him.
"Thank you Sir Alfred." Cecil replied worried now that he was somehow in trouble.
"Cecil at the end of the month you'll be finished here, what are your plans afterward?"
"Well, Sir, I'd planned on taking a holiday then looking around for a practice I could join. My Grandfather is anxious I learn what I need to know to succeed him." Cecil paused.
"The House of Lords: good heavens man, forgive me, what a waste. You are a healer, a Physician like no other I've trained. Cecil, what I'm about to tell you cannot leave this room. We normally do not consider our Residents for positions here at Royal Surgeons, but the attending staff and the board of governors would like to see you in a position here. We have a chair in surgery that is going to be empty at the end of this term. I and most of my colleagues would like to see you in it."
Cecil was floored; it was an honor almost unheard of for a newly qualified Physician. Most of the Attendings had many years of practice behind them. Cecil smelled his Grandfather's hand. "Sir Alfred, this is an unexpected honor. I am of course very grateful, I should have to take this very seriously," Cecil paused then looked at Sir Alfred and said in a very dry voice, "and ask my Grandfather, about it."
Sir Alfred smiled then said, "Cecil, I think I understand you. Your Grandfather had absolutely nothing to do with this offer. You have obtained this through your own merits. Believe me no social connection could make me agree to approach you with this, and I'm afraid I'm rather disappointed you would consider me so shallow. No you should consider this a word to encourage you to submit your name for the chair." Sir Alfred pushed the paper he had been working on toward Cecil.
Cecil picked up the paper and read the recommendation signed by every one of his Attending Physicians during his tenure here. He was humbled and gratified. He cleared his throat then looked at Sir Alfred and said, "Sir Alfred, please forgive me but my Grandfather is well known for engineering things in my favor, I never intended..."
"My boy I understand completely. Please consider this seriously. I'm afraid you will have to submit your name by the end of the week to be considered. Now I really must go make rounds with the house staff. Send a note to the Governors offices if you want your name considered." Sir Alfred stood up and then squeezed Cecil's shoulder, "Consider it Cecil." Then he left Cecil sitting lost in thought.
Cecil returned to Post Operative and sat by the patient's bedside and looked over his chart again. The chart said, Bill Kingsley, he was indeed the same age as Cecil. He is listed as living in the East End, apparently a common laborer. Cecil looked at the sleeping man; his auburn hair was tumbled into his eyes. Cecil felt something stir within himself; the chart said the temperature was elevated that was dangerous. It said he was a veteran of the war; Cecil himself had served only briefly before the war ended and he entered university. The patient's eyes opened briefly and he smiled at Cecil then he fell asleep again.
The Ward Matron found Cecil asleep in the chair beside Kingsley, she touched his shoulder and he jumped awake.
"My lord, his temperature is the same, you should go home. You promised me last time you wouldn't do this again; now go home, I'll send the orderly round to your rooms if there is a change." She smiled and Cecil stretched and yawned.
"Thank you Sister, I'll be in my rooms. I'm on duty again tonight I'll see him then." Cecil said and left the ward. He left the hospital and went across the lane to the Residents' hall and up to his rooms. He hurriedly wrote out a note to the Govenors to ask that his name be considered for the soon to be empty chair then he rang for the doorman and gave him the note and retired.
The next night, Cecil was called by the Ward Matron to see Kingsley who had awakened and wished to thank the doctor. Cecil sat beside the bed and the Sister pulled the curtain round the bed.
Kingsley was sitting up propped on pillows with his hair neatly combed. "I just wanted to thank you; the Sister there told me you saved my life." He said and extended his left hand to be shaken.
Cecil took his hand and gave it a firm shake then said, "Not at all, that's what I'm here for. You had a close call though, that's for sure. What was the fight about?" The patient blushed and ducked his head, "Had my hands where they shouldn't have been, sir." He mumbled. Cecil chuckled then said, "Well I hope that's the end of it."
They chatted for about an hour that night and then every time Cecil made rounds on him after that. Cecil slowly learned that Kingsley had served as driver for Colonel Sir Edward Nicely during the war and had been mentioned in dispatches during the same battle of the Somme that had claimed his own father. In spite of the wide social distinctions between them, they found a common ground in their war experiences. Kingsley learned from one of the Sister's that Cecil's father had died in the war and when he asked who he was, was able to tell Cecil that he had met his father once at a command conference. Cecil learned that Kingsley worked for a construction company as a laborer but had probably lost his position as he'd been out too long. Kingsley's recovery was slow but sure, twice a day Cecil came through and checked the wound, and every time he bared Kingsley's abdomen and saw that swath of ivory skin taunt over his rippled stomach and the trail of copper hair that surrounded his navel and then dived under the turned back sheets, he felt his manhood stir and was glad of the Prince Albert frock coat they wore on rounds.
Cecil had always known he was different from his friends. When he was away at school as a teen he had tossed others off and had himself been tossed off. Unlike most of his friends though, he had also enjoyed "lifting the shirt" of one of his schoolmates who liked to be buggered. During his time at public school he had explored sex with the other boys and had come to realize when the others had started to develop an interest in girls, that he didn't share that interest. In fact he wasn't interested in girls, in that way, at all. He knew that someday it was expected he marry and produce another Earl of Castleford but he had always managed to put that day off and out of his mind. Now after eight long years of dedicating all his time and energy to his studies, this lower class working man's tight abdomen caused him to think about what was staying hidden under the sheet. He also thought Kingsley noticed his interest and thought he detected a stirring in that sheet. He spent odd moments dreaming about Kingsley's wonderful hair and muscular frame knowing that there wasn't any possibility that anything could come of it.
After three weeks of convalescence and the day before Cecil was due to finish his Residency, Kingsley was ready for discharge. Cecil came round and found the Ward Matron arguing with the patient.
"You cannot go home alone; you will have to have continued care sir." She said.
"Well I ruddy well will have to go it alone as I've got no one to care for me haven't I Sister." Kingsley said.
Cecil stopped at the bedside at that point and interrupted. "What's this Kingsley? Haven't you someone at home who can look after you?"
"No sir, I haven't. My parents are dead and my only sister lives in Birmingham with a husband and five children, she's no time for the likes of me. I told the Sister here I could take care of myself. Haven't I watched her change the dressing twice a day for weeks? Didn't I do dressing changes in the War? I can manage this sir." Kingsley said.
"It isn't a matter of your ability, Kingsley. I hadn't realized you didn't have anyone at home. Where do you live?" Cecil asked.
"I've got a room in the East End, if the land lady hasn't given it up. I sent round the rents for the month but you never know." Kingsley said and sighed. Cecil thought for a moment the vaguest sketch of an idea forming then said, "Kingsley I'm going off duty in an hour, I'll come round and pick you up and take you to your rooms and we'll see if you still have a place to stay. If not we'll see what we can arrange."
Kingsley blushed then said, "Cor, sir but you can't be going over to my digs, they're hardly respectable."
"No arguments, Kingsley, I didn't bring you through this bit only to have you pop open like a bad pudding when you try to lift a hod of bricks. I'll be back around in an hour." Cecil said and walked off.
He heard the Sister say as he passed out of ear shot, "There, you see, I told you. You should be grateful you sod that his lordship has taken one of his fancies to you. Now I won't tolerate any ill temper..."
As usual Cecil was detained with cases he was particularly interested in and it was late when he went back around to collect Kingsley. He found him still in bed clothes. "Well Kingsley, sorry about the delay, we'll need to get you dressed." Cecil said, looking around for a Sister and eyed the man's clothes. They were clean and relatively new, probably taken from another patient who hadn't made it out of casualty. The Sisters kept a stock of various men's clothes for just such contingencies. I'll give you a hand; that plaster will be hard for you to manage alone. Kingsley sat up on the bedside and dangled his bare legs to the floor, the sheet only covering his lap. Cecil took the shirt and took his bandage scissors from his pocket and cut off the sleeve to accommodate the plaster then helped the man into it. Cecil noted the way his muscular shoulders turned into the mounds of his pectorals and the glint of copper hair peeking from his axillae. His chest tightened as his hand brushed across the firm muscles as he buttoned the shirt. He turned and picked up the man's trousers and puddled them on the floor at his feet. He noted the copper hair that covered his calves and the firm muscles there also. Kingsley tucked his feet into the pants legs and Cecil squatted down and gathered up the waist of the pants and pulled them up his legs, his thumbs parting the copper hair as they moved up his body. Kingsley stood up and Cecil found himself staring at his semi erect penis, surrounded by copper hair. The foreskin was just drawing back from the head. Cecil's breath caught as he admired the splendid manhood.
Kingsley, coughed then said as he pulled the trousers up one handed, "Thanks, mate, I can take it from here."
Cecil blushed and stood up and started filling out the paperwork to get Kingsley out of there. In silence he led Kingsley out of the ward to where his Bentley roadster was parked.
They were soon moving through the early evening traffic Cecil steering to Kingsley's instructions. About an hour later they pulled up in front of a rather tired looking shop front. Kingsley opened his door and went to grab his small sack of belongings, Cecil grabbed the bag first smiled and said, "Already anxious to overdo? Really Kingsley I should have kept you in another week."
Kingsley laughed, "Thanks no; I'm about fed up with the Sister's mothering me, Sir, my room's upstairs."
Cecil followed Kingsley up two flights of creaking stairs to a small door under the eaves, the key opened the door and they entered what Cecil would have termed a windowless closet. The room was just big enough for a camp bed with a small chest beside it.
"I see the old bird hasn't given up my lease, my stuff is still here." He said as he opened a drawer of the chest. The dust on the top had alerted Cecil, he disturbed it as he picked up a small photograph framed in cheap card stock. He squinted in the dim light to see a young man in uniform, obviously taken during the war. "Who's this Kingsley, a brother?"
"Here, I'll take that," he replied as he took the photo from Cecil, "that's my best mate Tom, or he was my best mate."
"Sorry I didn't mean to pry." Cecil said as he watched Kingsley's expression soften as he looked at the photo.
"He died in the war; a shell hit the ambulance he was driving. Bloody waste of a good mate!" he sighed and sat the picture down.
"Kingsley," Cecil said quietly, "how would you like to work for me?"
"Me, sir, what kind of work could I do for you? I'm nothing but an out of work laborer." Kingsley said and looked into the grey eyes.
"I talked to Sir Edward Nicely, he tells me you were a first rate orderly and driver. I'm in need of a valet who can also double as my Chauffeur. Next week I'm fully qualified and will need a man servant." Cecil said looking into Kingsley periwinkle eyes. "It'll fetch you around 50 pounds a year plus room, board, and uniforms."
"But you don't know much about me, sir. I don't think I can, I'm not trained and besides you don't know all about the fight...I mean." Kingsley started then stopped.
"Kingsley, I think I know you well enough to trust you in my home. You'd have no reason to steal there. As far as training, your duties would be similar to what you performed for Sir Edward as orderly. Drive me to the Hospital and my Surgery, care for my shoes and lay out my clothes." Cecil said and smiled at him.
"It wasn't stealing, sir. I was..snogging where I oughtn't have." He answered and looked at the photograph again.
"Now Kingsley, a man who gets in trouble stepping out with another's girl, that's understandable. Again it won't happen again I'm sure." Cecil said at a loss now, he was beginning to think there really was something amiss.
"It...weren't..."Kingsley mumbled and turned away from Cecil.
"What's that Kingsley?" Cecil said straining to hear.
Kingsley turned abruptly and said clearly in a tone tinged with sadness, "It weren't a girl, sir. The bloke who stuck me, caught me buggering his best mate. I'm sorry," he paused then continued, "you see now why I can't take the position you offered. It wouldn't be right of me to repay your kindness with this mess." He turned again away from Cecil as he finished, expecting him to leave.
Cecil stood transfixed his thoughts flooding with the possibilities, he placed a hand on Kingsley's shoulder and whispered, "I understand, I..."
Kingsley turned and looked into Cecil's eyes, he could see the confession on his face. He leaned toward Cecil and their lips met.
Cecil felt Kingsley's manhood rise up hard against his own as they explored each others mouths with their tongues. Cecil's hand strayed up his firm back and then tangled into the auburn hair he'd been dreaming of for weeks. Kingsley's good hand was on Cecil's backside and was kneading his bum, his senses reeling from the cologne Cecil wore and the feel of the well tailored suit. Kingsley had had many men but never an Aristocrat like Cecil.
Cecil could feel the hard muscles again and the strong arms that were locked around him, he reached down and loosened the trousers he had so recently put on him and then reached in and felt the hard tube of flesh, when he fished it out the flies and gripped it and started a slow wank on it, Kingsley broke their kiss and moaned. Cecil smiled and sat on the bed he watched as his hand made the foreskin bunch up behind the head then snap forward and cover it each time he could sense the sigh escape from Kingsley, then he leaned forward and slowly took the man's cock into his mouth. Kingsley slid his hips forward and Cecil's nose was buried in the fragrant coppery pubic bush that fanned out from the base of his cock and trailed up to his navel. He tasted pungent and manly and Cecil's own cock was aching. His hand slipped around Kingsley's bollocks and he squeezed gently, his finger traced behind the egg sized balls and followed the hard ridge of Kingsley's erection. Cecil started matching Kingsley's rhythm stroke for stroke when he thrust forward Cecil swallowed his manhood and when he pulled back Cecil licked the Corona of his cock.
"Ah I'm gonna cum." Kingsley whispered, and thrust forward one last time and held Cecil's head in place.
Cecil felt Kingsley's cock get harder and then felt the first rush of semen as it flooded into his waiting mouth and throat. He almost joined Kingsley in an orgasm but managed to control himself. When the rush passed, Kingsley slowly withdrew from his mouth and Cecil watched with regret as the foreskin once again demurely covered the flaring purple head. Kingsley sat down beside him and leaned in and kissed him again while with his good hand he fumbled at Cecil's flies, Cecil finally helped him and let his smaller circumcised cock out. Kingsley's hand fondled it and looked down.
"Here now, you're no Jew." He said quietly.
"No, but all the men in my family were circumcised; a roundhead is what I was called at school. The medical thought at the time was it prevented masturbation." Kingsley looked puzzled, "You know, tossing off." Cecil said and smiled.
"Did it work?" Kingsley said, and let his fingers run through the pale gold hair at the base of Cecil's cock.
"Good Lord, no." Cecil laughed, then moaned quietly as Kingsley wanked him.
"You want to bugger me?" Kingsley asked.
"Too right, I do." Cecil said.
Kingsley laughed softly then stood up. With his good hand he popped the button of his trousers and they slid down his legs. Cecil caught a glimpse of his flaccid cock now mostly hidden by his bush, as he turned and bent over the chest bracing his legs apart and rolling his hips up. Cecil thought he had never seen a better bum in his life, even the captain of the cricket team at school hadn't been that beautiful. His dick throbbed as it slid through Kingsley's crack and the hair there prickled his head. Kingsley handed Cecil a small bottle of olive oil and Cecil spread it on himself and on Kingsley's tight hole. He positioned his cock and slowly pushed forward into the man's tight sleeve. Both men moaned softly as Cecil penetrated the tight ring. Cecil was in paradise, Kingsley's tight hole clenched each time he pulled back and Kingsley pushed back each time Cecil thrust in. Cecil was soon leaning forward over Kingsley with his nose in his hair and then he let his lips touch his neck and slid over to his ear. He let one of his hands stray around to Kingsley's cock only to find it hard again and he started slowly wanking him as he picked up his thrusts. Kingsley was moaning with him and leaning back to meet his thrusts when Cecil came, he sighed and blasted several loads deep into the man, lost in the fever of the sex and release of his pent up frustration. Kingsley's hand gripped Cecil's now slack hand around his rigid cock and finished himself off and leaned his head back over Cecil's shoulder as he fired another load onto the front of the chest and moaned.
They stood like that for a moment locked in the afterglow, Cecil ran his hands up Kingsley's chest and felt again the hard muscles put on by carrying bricks up scaffolding.
"That was wonderful, Sir. I hope we can do it again." Kingsley said as he sighed again.
"We can, especially if you came to work for me." Cecil said and once again buried his nose in the auburn hair that smelled of hospital soap.
To be continued....