This work fully protected under The United States Copyright Laws ? 17 USC?? 101, 102(a), 302(a). All Rights Reserved. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the Author's consent. (See full statement at the beginning of Chapter One.)
Author's Note: Thanks to all of you who have written to tell how much you're enjoying the story, I hope you stay tuned. For all the readers enjoying the stories here at Nifty, remember that Nifty needs your donations to help them to provide these wonderful stories. How about sending them $5 Bucks, just think of it as buying a hot magazine!
Noblesse Oblige By Henry H. Hilliard with Pete Bruno Book 2 An Indian Summer Chapter 6
When the three boys arrived in Piccadilly there was a note from Aunt Maude inviting them to dinner and then on to a ball to be held in a house across the square. Martin was a little disappointed as he wanted to have fun with just the three of them, but both The Plunger and Stephen were excited at the prospect of a foray into London society.
They were shown to their adjoining rooms and Chilvers was busy hanging up the elaborate wardrobe that The Plunger had managed to bring. "We will be out late tonight, Chilvers, at Aunt Maude's ball. I think we will sleep late."
"I'll make sure you're not disturbed, sir. Mr Knight would you please try on these evening trousers, I think they are too loose and I will have the button moved. Stephen simply dropped his trousers-he was naked underneath-and pulled on the other pair. He had trouble fitting his half-hard cock into them and The Plunger and Martin looked on grinning.
"Allow me sir," said Chilvers and while Stephen held the trousers open Chilvers fed Stephen's cock down the leg.
"The other side, Mr Chilvers"
"I'm sorry sir, I should have remembered," and he set to work on the lad again. At last they were buttoned but bulged obscenely from all the attention he had received and Stephen raised his shirt while Chilvers pulled at the waist, deciding that the button could be moved an inch. Then Stephen dropped the trousers and the servant took them away.
All three thought it was terribly funny and Martin and The Plunger walked over to Stephen and felt his cock and balls. "I can't help it. It's hard all the time," said Stephen. "Archie, Martin and I want you to sleep with us. Will you?"
The Plunger nodded so vigorously his monocle fell out. Stephen was pleased with this response and rubbed The Plunger through his trousers before suddenly saying, "Let's go out!"
They walked the length of Piccadilly and negotiated the Circus and headed up Shaftesbury Avenue towards the theatres. Then Stephen turned down Rupert Street and twisted left then right until they were in a small street of foreign shops somewhere behind Wardour Street, Martin thought.
The shop was down two steps from the street and contained dusty books and some faded watercolours. Martin hoped that they weren't here to indulge in Stephen's passion for literature and he was bored already. However, led by the foreign proprietor, the party passed through to another room that offered far more interesting merchandise.
All three were hard in their trousers but if the man noticed he said nothing. "We'd like three boxes of pr?servatifs, please," began Stephen and the man reached up to a shelf and brought down the box that was familiar to Stephen and Martin. "Grosse for me, please, but my friends with have to be measured."
The man motioned the boys behind a screen and The Plunger and Martin unbuttoned. He didn't produce a tape measure as Martin had feared but simply looked and said "Mittlere I think. If they do not suit, gentlemen, we have the larger sizes in stock.
"I will leave you gentlemen to browse as I hear the bell. I have another customer in the bookshop," he said and was gone.
"This place is amazing," said The Plunger, whose mouth was dry and like the other two was rubbing himself through his trousers. They selected some French scented oils and Stephen tried to interest The Plunger in a dildo. He wasn't keen but saw an unusual ring in a cabinet that must surely have been for one place only and he determined to ask about it. Stephen selected some pictures of French girls-for Christopher, he explained-just as the proprietor came back in.
The Plunger asked about the jewellery and selected the most expensive example and then, blushing even deeper than before, asked how it was worn. The man explained simply, but did not offer to demonstrate and all three boys nodded.
He tuned to Stephen and said, "Sir may be interested in these small leather pieces." He produced an item that, he explained with delicacy, went around the scrotum and fastened also round the shaft of the penis. Stephen was looking at it carefully when Martin said, "We'll take it."
"A wise choice sir, many of the larger members from the Brigade of Guards find them to their liking, sir. The Household Cavalry seem to prefer the silver adornments that the other gentleman has just selected, although the distinction is by no means strict."
"Soldiers wear them?" asked Stephen.
"Yes sir. They look very fine in them. I'm sure if you went to any of the public houses near the Wellington Barracks, say in Caxton Street, you could see for yourself for a small sum. Our soldiery is disgracefully underpaid, sir."
Their purchases were paid for and securely wrapped; they declined the offer for them to be delivered. They found their way back to Regent Street where Martin brought a 'Bike' jockey's strap for The Plunger and he said he should wear in for sports. In Bond Street they went to Chappell's and bought the latest ragtime music for Douglas. Stephen asked The Plunger to wait outside Asprey's and he took Martin inside. "I want to buy you a watch," he said, "to replace the one that was stolen in Cannes. I've saved up from my allowance. Please let me buy one for you, Mala."
Martin was overcome, but agreed. "His lordship would like to look at some wristlet watches, please." They were taken to the counter where they perused the glittering timepieces. Eventually Martin chose a slim gold one with Asprey's own name on it but the movement was English and made by a company called Wilsdorf & Davis.
"Very elegant sir. You can wear one of these 'Rolex' watches even when you are playing tennis, sir.'
"We would like it engraved, please," said Stephen.
"Very good sir, it will be ready tomorrow afternoon or we can send it. What engraving sir?"
"'M and D' and overlap the script," said Stephen, desperately wanting to kiss Martin, but unable to do so.
All three boys looked very handsome in their evening clothes. The Plunger's monocle glinted and Stephen's hair was brushed to a brilliant lustre. The Plunger augmented his costume with an opera cloak with a chartreuse lining. They took at taxi to Lowndes Square and Kant showed them up to Aunt Maude's drawing room. Stephen went down to dinner with Miss Webster and on his left was Sophia who went down with The Plunger. Martin took in a Miss Foxton who was a plain girl, but a good conversationalist. They were all to go on to the ball in the house across the square and Aunt Maude would chaperone.
Miss Foxton, it seemed, was very fond of sports and spent a good deal of her time in the East End where she volunteered at Toynbee Hall. However instead of it being dreary, she told humorous stories of the inhabitants of Whitechapel and many stories against herself. Martin found himself liking her and promised to visit the Commercial Road to see Toynbee Hall for himself.
Across the table, Miss Webster was laughing shrilly and determined that Stephen should not eat his dinner but rather pay attention to her. When Stephen tried to talk to Sophia, she pulled him back by asking him to pass her the salt or some such thing. Several times her hand slipped beneath the table. Stephen was looking distressed.
Sophia put her hand discreetly under the table and rested it on Stephen's thigh. Stephen looked at her and she whispered, "Don't worry."
Presently Miss Webster, in gales of laughter about nothing at all and again slipped her hand under the table where she felt something unfamiliar. She explored with her index finger and she was just realising that there was another hand in this hitherto sequestered location when she gave a yelp and withdrew her paw. Someone had pinched her quite hard and it wasn't Stephen who had both hands engaged in slicing a peach with his fruit knife. Miss Webster looked daggers at Miss Vane-Gillingham who just pretended to be interested in the particulars of the chandelier at that very moment.
"Thank you," whispered Stephen when at last Miss Webster decided to engage the Major or her right side.
"That's all right, Stephen, we're almost cousins now-once removed- and it was rather exciting down there."
Stephen almost choked on his fruit as Sophia, smiling, said quite loudly so that Miss Webster could hear: "It's quite a peach, Mr Knight."
The battle continued at the ball with Miss Webster trying to monopolise Stephen and virtually compelling him to dance with her. Stephen fought back by confessing he did not know the more difficult dances and Sophia had to try filling up her card with waltzes with Stephen before Stephen found other willing waltzing partners. Miss Webster retaliated by also leaving 'difficult' dances vacant on her card so that she might sit them out in Stephen's company. Stephen launched a faint by suddenly saying he could manage a gavotte just as Miss Webster said she would not dance.
The Plunger also came to his aid and asked Miss Webster for a waltz and that left Stephen free to select another. Martin deserted Miss Foxton, who thought it all a great joke, and asked Miss Webster if she were free just as she was about to mount a charge. At supper she fought back. She asked for some punch and told Stephen she would be waiting outside on the terrace and to bring it to her, if he'd be so kind. She saw Stephen walk in the direction of the refreshments as she slipped out through the doors, but did not hear the click as The Plunger closed the doors, turned the key (it was windy after all) and draw the curtains. When the music started again Stephen was already dancing and Miss Webster was nowhere to be seen until, at last and somewhat wind-blown and still in need of punch, she made her way back into the ballroom via the kitchens.
The most perilous part of the evening was the walk across Lowndes Square. Miss Webster was having stability problems again and felt she must hold on to Stephen's strong arm. She held on like a limpet as they crunched along the grave walk beneath the elms. She stumbled and put her arm around Stephen's waist. "Oh Miss Webster, if you continue to hold me like that I might just have to make violent love to you," said Stephen.
"Oh Mr Knight, a gentleman shouldn't say things like that to a lady, what would your Aunt Maude say?"
"You're right, Miss Webster, I forgot, I'm not a gentleman. I do apologise. Miss Foxton!" he called back, "Miss Foxton, will you take Miss Webster's arm, I appear to have forgot my London manners and do not wish to embarrass the young lady further." And with that he unhooked Miss Webster and coupled her to Miss Foxton while he took Aunt Maude's arm for the remainder of the journey.
At Branksome House the boys undressed in Martin's room and Martin climbed into bed and sat up as Stephen inspected The Plunger as if he expected him to have changed since they last met. Archie just stood there as Stephen moved about him. He felt his muscles and eagerly commented to Martin how strong The Plunger's biceps where becoming and how firm his chest now was. He licked The Plunger's shoulders and ran his fingers through his hair. "Tomorrow morning we are going to bathe you Archie and I want to wash that ginger hair -I love it. He put his heavy arm around The Plunger's neck and turned to Martin. "Has he been sucking you right, Mala?"
"Yes, he has. And I have been sucking him-usually on a Wednesday after games and on Sundays. We always have Eton mess for pudding on Sundays," he added knowing that Stephen had to have this kind of detail.
"Has it been good for you Plunger?" said Stephen turning to him, intent on his answer.
"Yes it has," replied The Plunger, knowing he wasn't referring to the Sunday pudding and feeling a bit frightened. Stephen kissed him and grasped his cock. "Have you kept yourself clean down there for me, Plunger?" he said softly.
"I think so."
"Think so? I'd better get some soap and make sure." He went over to the washstand and brought back a soapy cloth, which he used to gently clean The Plunger's person. "That's a beautiful ginger crack, Plunger." He licked it.
"Now," he said brightly, his mood changing, "let's try on our jewellery."
The purchases were retrieved and The Plunger was permitted to kneel before Stephen and fit the leather strap. One part tightly went around the base of his cock; it would maintain his erection. The second part went around his scrotum, further distending his balls.
"How does it look Mala?"
"Wonderful, I'm so hard just looking at you."
"Let me see," said Stephen, walking over to the bed. Martin pulled back the blankets to show him. Stephen then stood in the middle of the room with his hands on hip hips while he was admired.
"Miss Webster is missing the show," said Martin.
"Now yours, Archie," said Stephen. "I'll put it on."
"Don't hurt me, Stephen," cried The Plunger.
"Of course not," said Stephen tenderly and kissed him.
There was some debate about whether it was to be worn around just the cock or the balls as well. Arguments were advanced for both contentions. When The Plunger put it on his cock it looked good, but quickly slid off because it was too big.
Then Stephen worked his balls through it one at a time, while The Plunger looked down in alarm. Both tried to slide his penis through the ring but he was too hard to bend. Stephen kissed and licked the ginger cock and applied oil, but he was still too hard. "I should have got one like yours Stephen," he wailed. "Let me do it, you're getting me too excited. I'll wait till it goes down."
"Good idea," said Stephen, "but I want to put it on you when you're not so hard."
The Plunger went onto the next room and thought about gerunds and Latin homework.
Stephen ginned at Martin and swaggered over in his leather straps and kissed him. "I want Plunger to enjoy his night with us"
"Don't scare him too much," said Martin, "he's very susceptible."
The Plunger returned several minutes later, still muttering Latin declensions, but flaccid. Stephen knelt down and very gently managed to thread his penis through the ring and it now sat back behind his balls.
"Look at yourself, Plunger," he said turning him to the looking glass, "all those guardsmen will want to suck that ginger cock." The Plunger was certainly beaming and Stephen reached around and grabbed a handful of The Plunger's red bush and nipped his pale cheeks with his teeth. He then bent The Plunger over and spread his cheeks and tongued him some more.
When the Plunger turned around again the ring was half off, his balls, having a mind of their own had worked their way to liberty. They both laughed and Stephen unstrapped himself, saying it was beginning to chafe. The Plunger knelt down and licked the enflamed skin. "Come on, let's get into bed with Martin," said Stephen, "What would you like to do?"
"Will you fuck me Stephen?"
"No Archie, that's something special between Mala and me, and I would hurt you too much. Would you like me suck your cock?"
"Could I suck your cock first?"
"Of course. Come and help, Mala."
Martin got behind The Plunger and could taste where Stephen had been. The Plunger stretched Stephen's foreskin with his teeth then set to work licking the length of Stephen's cock before taking it in his mouth and applying the suction he was famous for. Stephen closed his eyes and moaned and The Plunger felt pleased. When the cock was wet and slippery, The Plunger used his hands, occasionally splitting and sucking when he thought Stephen was getting too dry, but his beautiful loose skin glided backwards and forwards under his hands. Stephen moaned louder.
"Come on Stephen, spill for me! Spill from those big balls! I want your seed all over my face. Come on stud!" cried The Plunger excitedly as he increased his pace. Martin moved into place and pulled on Stephen's balls. "Pull them harder, Martin, make him moan."
Stephen did spill and grabbed his own cock and finished himself off. When he opened his eyes The Plunger's face was a mess, but he was smiling blissfully. Martin moved in and licked him clean.
"Can I see you fuck Martin now?" asked The Plunger, still excited.
"Would that be all right, Mala?"
Martin's reply was just to kiss him and to get up on his hands and knees. Stephen kissed and licked his buttocks and invited The Plunger to do the same. He then gently applied the oil and used his fingers. The Plunger was stroking his cock at the erotic sight. Stephen then gently entered Martin and slowly bottomed out.
"Does that hurt, Martin? He must hurt you," said The Plunger, getting close to Martin.
"No, it only hurts a bit at first. He's careful and it feels good now."
Stephen gave Martin a good fucking and provided a fine show for The Plunger. When he was driving in deep, with each thrust he nudged Martin's skull on the bed head in an undignified manner. He motioned The Plunger over and he stood with his long legs straddling Martin but gave his cock to Stephen who pleasured him as best he could, his nose sometimes right down in the ginger pubic bush. Martin spilled on the bed and Stephen spilled in Martin. Stephen concentrated more on The Plunger and pulled him in closer with one hand, inserting a digit up his rectum. The Plunger offered up his seed to Stephen who swallowed it all.
The bed was such a mess that they repaired to Stephen's room in their dressing gowns, stopping at the bathroom to clean up. In Stephen's bed, with the door locked, they snugged down, a tangle of arms and legs, Stephen with his nose in the ginger hair and Martin with his head on the black silky patch of chest hair, triangular in shape.
The next day they went down to a late breakfast in the smaller dining room and Martin showed Stephen how to write a 'bread and butter' letter thanking a hostess. This was sent off to Lowndes Square. Lord Delvees was telephoned. He was not free for lunch but would meet the boys in Boodles at five.
Martin went through the baize door and descended to the kitchen. The staff all stood. He thanked them for their efforts in opening up the house and then sought out Chilvers who was in the silver room.
"Chilvers, where should I take Mr Knight and Mr Craigth for dinner tonight? We want to see a show."
"Might I suggest Kettner's sir, it's in Romilly Street, quite close to Shaftsbury Avenue. And sir, may I remind you it is not inexpensive."
"Thank you Chilvers. Could you arrange a table for 7:30?"
The boys spent the morning at the National Gallery and met Sophia for lunch in the palm court of the Hotel Cecil in the Strand. Stephen had on his grey suit and a soft hat and Archie had on a navy blue one with a bowler hat and he carried a very handsome stick with a silver knob. Sophia was unchaperoned. They had very jolly meal and many laughs were had at the expense of Miss Webster. Miss Foxton had asked to be remembered to Martin and she hoped he might come to the East End one day.
All four then went to Madam Taussaud's to see the new effigy of Dr Crippen and found plenty of likenesses of friends and enemies in the Chamber of Horrors.
After tea, the boys made their way down to St James where Boodle's club was housed in a brick building with twin porticos and a bay window over the street and with a great arched widow on the floor above it. Stephen was very nervous about going in but Martin took such things in his stride. The Plunger's face was a frozen mask. Lord Martin was expected and was shown into the Strangers' Room where Lord Delvees was talking to the Home Secretary, Mr Churchill. Mr Churchill was complaining about the suffragettes and the impossible situation he found himself in with these lawbreakers.
When introduced, Churchill already knew Archie's father, a supporter of his party, and he commiserated with Martin on the loss of his father, who like Lord Delvees, was a Tory peer. He spoke for a few moments to Stephen and recommended India or South Africa as places Stephen might like to try for adventure and the outdoor life.
When alone with his godfather, Martin and Stephen spoke of the financial changes they were making at Croome and of Stephen's adoption, which he had encouraged. Stephen frankly asked him if he could help with the problem of the management of the estate since he and Martin were at school. Lord Delvees said he would see if he knew of anyone.
He began to talk in a low voice and the boys pulled their chairs in closer: "There's a general election coming up and some people in my own party are taking ruthless measures against Mr Asquith and Mr Lloyd George. They'd like to get something on Mr Churchill. I'm telling you this, boys, because I want you to be careful. After what happened to my grandson?
"Custard?" interrupted The Plunger, "Why, what has happened to him?"
"You didn't tell Mr Craigth?"
The boys shook their heads.
"?Well, Mr Craigth, he was caught in a compromising position-in flagrante delicto I believe the expression is, and there was a question of the police being brought in and a blackmail attempt on me. It was unsuccessful. And now the Duke of Westminster has gone to the King to denounce his own brother-in-law, Lord Beauchamp, who is my political colleague. He will have to resign and go abroad. He has a wife too. The King said, gentlemen, "I thought men like that shot themselves." I was frankly disgusted. I'm telling you this because I want you to be careful. Your father is a prominent Liberal, Craigth; Martin you come from an old family and will be in the Lords yourself one day. Mr Knight, you can see why I was anxious to bring you inside the family. Perhaps the danger is greater when you are older, but it would be remiss of me not to warn you. Perhaps it's best if you don't say anything to 'Custard' when you are back at school. I expect the boy will be returning."
The boys were much sobered when they found themselves on the street. "We do have to be very, very careful," said Martin, contemplating a trial like Oscar Wilde's, which was still talked about in hushed tones as if it were just yesterday.
"There is the risk of blackmail," said The Plunger contemplating his own position with respect to his father's.
"Not to mention gaol; it could be two years hard," said Stephen "and it would only need a hotel servant or a sailor?or a soldier!... to be in hot water with the police and they would turn us in to try and save themselves. And here we were going to pick up guardsmen! Perhaps we'd better not."
"Yes, we'd better not," said Martin.
"No, we'd better not," agreed The Plunger, disappointed, "after all that good advice. Unless it was really safe that is."
"Could it be made safe, Derby?" asked Martin.
Stephen's eyes were shining. "I could make it pretty safe. Leave it to me you fellows. I have my new strap to wear! I'll see you later." And with that he turned around and ran towards St James Park.
Stephen returned in time to dress and they walked to Kettner's where Lord Martin Poole and his party were shown to a good table where they could see all the fashionable people. They waved discreetly to Mr Churchill who was dining with Asquith and some ladies. Churchill spoke to Asquith who looked in the direction of the boys' table. He rose and walked across. The boys rose.
"Lord Martin, how do you do? I saw you at your poor father's funeral and I'm glad to see you again under more delightful circumstances."
"Thank you, Prime Minister. Yes, it is wonderful here. It is my first time."
"And you, Mr Craigth, hullo," he said shaking hands. I'll have to think about finding a safe seat for you one day. I'll tell your father I saw you here."
"I rather you didn't sir. I'm still at school and?"
"Well maybe I didn't see you after all. And Mr Knight, is it? How d'you do?"
"How d'you do Mr Asquith?" replied Stephen with a firm handshake and a radiant smile.
"Will you young gentlemen join us at our table for your coffee after you have eaten? My wife would love to meet you. We are starved of young people and our own Elizabeth and Anthony are too young for really intellectual discussions although my wife tries and prophesises Anthony will be a great artist one day."
The meal was superb and Stephen watched Martin and The Plunger carefully as usual to make sure his actions were as correct.
They did have the waiter take their coffee to the other table and three chairs were produced. The boys were introduced to Mrs Churchill and to Margot Asquith. Mrs Asquith found Stephen charming company and was impressed by his reading. They had both read Howards End and Stephen had the courage to recommend a thriller called The Phantom of the Opera. "It is by a Frenchman called Leroux, but I have only read it in English, Mrs Asquith."
Her conversation was sharp, witty and probing and she concentrated her dark eyes and pointed nose on her interlocutor. "You're doing Scott? Have you read the book on Sir Walter by my friend George Wyndham?" Stephen had. "And if you are so interested in cricket and football, you should talk to our dear friend Alfred Lyttleton who was a champion in both sports before you were born, Mr Knight."
The boys reluctantly departed for the theatre, Stephen not daring to ask Martin how much the bill was but very pleased that Mrs Asquith said he must come to Cavendish Square when she next had an evening for some young writers.
They had tickets for The Chocolate Soldier at the Lyric which they thought was tremendously good, the scenes of our hero hiding behind the bed curtains reminding them all of real-life farces.
Stephen's surprise was revealed when he hailed a taxi, which took them in the direction of the Houses of Parliament. In Toothill Street, at the rear of the Abbey, the driver was stopped and the boys got out. Stephen led them to a room above an empty shop and fumbled for a key in the gloom. A lamp was lit and it revealed a rather squalid bed-sitting room with horrible wallpaper showing great, green patches of damp and some dilapidated furniture, including a large brass bed.
"This is hardly romantic, Derbs," said Martin.
"Not, even Mother could do anythng with this hole. It's nearly as bad as school," said The Plunger.
"That's just the point," explained Stephen, "if we pick up any soldiers we don't want them to know anything about us. This place is anonymous." He was terribly excited.
There was a large cupboard or what may have been a larder in one wall. He opened the door and hauled out a suitcase. The other two gathered around as he opened it to reveal clothing. "Here, get all your finery off and put these on," he said distributing garments.
It was like fancy dress. Stephen had purchased three wardrobes of clothes that approximately fitted. Martin was fearful of bugs, but they were not workmen's clothes but those of a clerks or tradesmen and they were clean. The pants were a bit short on The Plunger and the jacket was too tight to button on Stephen and the boots pinched. The Plunger liked his tie, however. Their own clothes they squashed, to The Plunger's distress, into the suitcase and Stephen removed their money, watches (The Plunger noticing Martin's new wristlet watch and mentally revising his earlier views on their propriety) monocles and other valuables and shut them into the case which he returned to the cupboard, locking its door and pocketing the key. He distributed smaller sums to each of them and made final adjustments to lapels and caps and to The Plungers battered bowler.
"I wonder what the Prime Minister would think of us if he could see us now?" giggled Martin.
With Stephen in command they marched in the direction of Caxton Street where a lighted doorway and warm and sickly smells advertised a pub. They found a corner and Martin begged to be allowed to buy the first round. The publican replied, "Very good, sir," in a way that told Martin that his attempt at rough speech had been an utter failure.
The Plunger looked at his pint as if it were arsenic but through mental gymnastics put the whole affair down to play-acting and he took a sip, noting that it was inferior to Caledonian Ale.
It was easier than they thought. The publican nodded his head in their direction and a soldier walked over.
"Evenin' gents. On the tiles tonight?" He was in his twenties and was dark with a small moustache. He was quite good-looking and swaggered like a soldier. He was Irish thought Martin, perhaps from Belfast. "Would you like to join my mates for a drink?"
"Bring them over here and we'll buy you one," said Stephen.
He returned with his two companions. They were in the Irish Guards they said. The second one was also nice-looking and about 25. His hair was light brown and curled tightly exposing a strong neck. He looked like he had well developed arms and legs as well. The third one was 18, he said, but looked younger. He had a pinched, pale, Celtic face and blue eyes that looked frightened. Martin felt sorry for him at once. He had none of the swagger of the older two.
Another two rounds of drinks were purchased. Martin had completely forgotten the false names they were to use; was his supposed to be 'Fred'? The Plunger had called Stephen 'Fred' just now when he was supposed to be 'Albert' of was it 'Alfred'?
Brian, the young one, had only been in the Irish Guards a few months. Ian, the one with the curly hair, was his cousin and he and Declan had been in for three years.
"You'd be toffs, am I not roight?" said Brian.
"Well, yes, I suppose we could be," admitted Martin,
"Well, I taught so. Dat's because you're too clean. Declan said we'd be meetin' toffs tonight. Tis my very first time."
Martin felt embarrassed and was further shamed by The Plunger's attempt at a South London accent, which would certainly have not got him a part for anything at the Lyric Theatre, he thought.
Presently Declan said, "It's time we'd be goin'." And the six of them poured out into the street for the few steps back to the room. Cousin Ian had his arm about The Plunger's shoulder and Stephen had his about Declan's neck and was still talking animatedly to him. Brian saw Martin looking and said, "Tis all right, put your arm around my shoulder, I don't mind. Tis nice."
The room looked even more sordid under the lamplight when they had climbed the stairs. "Do you boys like to kiss? Some don't tink it's nice. Do you want to kiss us?" said Declan. Kisses were exchanged and Declan, at close quarters was very exciting.
"Before we start it will be a pound each. Is that understood? It would have been 25 bob if you'd gone through our sergeant; he keeps a crown apiece."
"There'll be an extra half if you wear these," said Stephen producing the box of pr?servatifs.
"Suit yourself. Don't feel right, but your choice."
The six of them undressed. Stephen and The Plunger took Declan's clothes off first. His chest was hairy and Stephen made sure that Martin felt it. Martin ran his finger through the hair and then slid it down under his trousers to feel his bush and the top of his cock. Declan was surprised at his forwardness. The Plunger undid Declan's trousers and removed his long underwear. He had a big uncut cock hidden in a lot of dark hair. His balls were also partly obscured but they too seemed large. Ian was next. He was hairless on his body apart from his armpits, which were inspected, and his curly brown bush, which was home to a white cock that was already on its way to being hard. He was wearing a strap similar to Stephen's and it emphasised his erection. Stephen gave it a tug to help it along.
Martin undressed without thinking and when he turned around he saw that young Brian was also naked. He was attractive and well proportioned, but his skin was pale like his face. He didn't seem very excited.
The Plunger had the help of the others to disrobe and his sizable ginger cock was admired. "Dat could be an Oirish cock," laughed Ian.
"Show him your best side," said Declan and Ian bent over. His crack was hairless and the boys wondered if he shaved it. Declan spread his cheeks and his hole was already gaping. "You wouldn't be his first, boys," said Declan and Ian laughed and reddened.
Lastly Stephen was stripped of his old clothes. There were gasps when his cock in its leather collar flopped out and the three soldiers all vied to touch it. They ran their hands over his body and Martin felt a twinge of jealousy.
"I tink I could take dat," said Ian and promptly bent over on the bed. Declan came over and spat in his hole and invited The Plunger to do the same. Stephen produced a bottle of the scented oil, which was passed round for sampling, all applying some to their own members, and some drops were poured into Ian's red maw. Stephen stroked himself to full erection and was just moving towards Ian when Declan got down on his knees and added a few more strokes for hardness and sucked it into his mouth for lubrication. He then held Ian down by the shoulders as Stephen entered his mate very slowly but still causing Ian to curse and thrash.
"Now dere's a sight!" exclaimed Declan. "Are you all right dere, Ian?" Ian's groans were taken as an affirmative. The Plunger put his hands on Stephen's buttocks and assisted unnecessarily but pleasantly, pushing him into Ian.
"Over here, Ginger," cried Declan to The Plunger. He held out his cock and The Plunger dropped to his knees to suck it. The favour was returned and then The Plunger was taken to the bed-only one side being utilised at the moment-and Declan contrived positions so that they might each pleasure the other.
That left Martin and Brian sitting naked on top of each other in the armchair. "You don't have to do anything if you don't want to," said Martin.
"Tanks," said Brian. "I'm not very used to this, I'm sorry."
"That's all right, but why did you come?"
"It's da money," and he launched into his sad story. Apparently he had a sweetheart who was fifteen and with child. She was a Catholic and he was a Protestant and her father threw her out of the house. He'd come to England a few months ago and joined the Guards with his cousin.
"Where is Kate now?" asked Martin.
"The priest at Christ Church in Brixton Road has found her somewhere she can stay until she has the baby and it can be adopted. He won't marry us because I'm a Protestant and she's only fifteen."
"But surely he would prevent a girl with child marrying?"
"He said he wouldn't marry us, and unless we're married my army pay can't go to her. So here I am," he finished, with tears in his eyes. Martin put his arm around him and they continued to look at the heaving sight on the bed. Stephen was really ploughing Ian hard and working up a sweat. Ian looked almost unconscious and Martin wondered if that's what he looked like under his lover. Declan was now masturbating The Plunger with fury as he was getting his hairy chest rubbed.
Martin stroked his cock and Brian was also hard. They exchanged smiles and, by agreement, swapped hands and pleasured each other.
The Plunger had spent but Declan kept stoking him, even though The Plunger complained that it was painful. He tried to push him off and was unsuccessful at first, but he was a strong boy and at last succeeded in getting Declan to let go. Declan then forced his cock down The Plunger throat and was fucking his face just as Stephen spilled into Ian. Ian revived and arose from his semi-prone position. He had spilled twice down the side of the bed. There was a puddle on the floor. Stephen took off the pr?servatif and inspected its contents before tying it off and disposing of it.
"I want to fuck you," said Declan, pulling off the gagging Plunger.
"Alright," said Stephen who looked at Martin first, "but you must wear this."
Reluctantly he slid it on the rubber device. Stephen oiled his crack and hole and poured some on to Declan's sheathed cock. He tried to open himself with a finger. Declan pushed his hand away in his eagerness. Stephen leant over the bed where Ian had lately been and parted his cheeks. Declan's hairy cock pushed straight in and Stephen yelled in pain. "He's singin' an Oirish lullaby, Ian," he said. Declan kept pressing and Stephen continued to bellow. Martin leapt up from the chair, tumbling Brian to the floor, and lunged at Declan.
"You're hurting him. Stop it or I'll kill you."
Declan looked surprised. "What with? Look, you toffs pay for rough treatment that's what I'm giving you. You want soldier loving or not?"
"I'm all right Martin, honestly. Declan, if you want to be paid, I want to enjoy it. Take it slowly and I'll give you half a crown."
The mention of money changed matters entirely and Declan apologised saying he'd mistaken the gentlemen for another party. He even lifted Stephen to his feet and kissed him, stroking his cock saying it was the finest he'd ever seen. He sucked on it and added, "or tasted."
They resumed their former position and Declan took it with admirable caution and both seemed to be enjoying it. Martin began to relax and went back to the armchair quite puzzled; he could not make Declan out; he could see he was fine looking, but what was underneath was a mystery.
Declan gave Stephen a good fucking and at Ian's urging pulled out, discarding the pr?servatif and finished himself of on Stephen's back. It was an exciting sight and Martin and Brian had both spent in their hands. Stephen arose, all smiles, and kissed Declan.
The soldiers dressed and the money and the gratuities were settled up and they left without ceremony. The three naked boys fell onto the old bed, Stephen in the centre with his big arms around each of the others.
"Well, that was an adventure!" exclaimed The Plunger.
"You didn't enjoy it, Mala?" asked Stephen.
"I'm not sure. I feel a bit squeamish about it all."
"Don't worry about Declan, he enjoyed it. Don't let the money fool you. I'll bet he's at it with the soldiers in their barracks as often as he can. You felt sorry for the young one, didn't you?"
"I did," admitted Martin.
"Would you two mind sucking me; I feel that I've got to get another one out, but don't touch my arse, it's rather tender."
It was half past three when the boys awoke. They dressed in their evening clothes, checking their pockets, and left the unsuccessful disguises behind. The room had been taken for a week, but they weren't coming back so they left they key. Stephen made sure that no one was lurking to rob them when they emerged into the quite street. They found a cab in Broad Sanctuary and it took them home.
The following day Martin sent a servant to the Catholic parish priest at Brixton with an envelope addressed to "Miss Kate-late of Ireland." In it were two five pound notes.
To be continued?
Thanks for reading. If you have any comments or questions, Henry and I would love to hear from you.
Just send them to farmboy5674@yahoo.com and please put NOB Nifty in the subject line.