Ogedei's Boy Chapter Two by Ant-Boy@Hotmail.co.uk
"We all learn by experience -- but some of us have to go to summer school" -- Peter de Vries
I woke in the dusk with a start to discover the house boy, now dressed once again in his brilliant white shirts and shorts tentatively pushing at my bare shoulder. `Your Aunt says dinner in 30 minutes.'
She must have looked in, seen me asleep and sent the boy to wake me. I glanced down with a start to see, thankfully, the sheet had only slid down to my waist. To my amazement I could feel a half erection just hidden from sight by the sheet, my cock felt sore and my balls slightly bruised, even so, it felt like it wanted to play and seeing the house boy standing beside me , his groin in line with my face, didn't help.
I looked up at his grin, `Thanks. Tell her I'll be along in a moment will you please. I better get dressed first.'
That grin spread even further round his face at my last remark and he nodded and left the room, his bare feet padding against the wooded floor boards. I'd never really paid much attention to the staff before, they were just there. I certainly don't think it could be said I abused them, Aunt and Uncle were always telling me I was too soft. It just didn't seem right to me to ring a bell and expect someone to appear before me like a genie from a bottle when all I wanted was a clean shirt or a cold drink, something I was quite capable of obtaining for myself. Even so, after my experiences this afternoon I knew I'd be watching them more closely. Why was it though that floating around somewhere in the back of my mind was the thought it might be exciting to swap positions with them? Why should I even consider becoming a servant to someone else? That was not the way my future was planned, well not by me anyway.
That last thought cured my cock of any ideas it may have been considering and I jumped up and after a quick wipe down pulled on a clean set of clothes before making my way to the dining room just in time for dinner. The conversation that followed almost had me groaning in dismay, my dear relatives had decided as I was returning to England in another week they should spend more time with me and intended to take me away with them at the weekend on what seemed to me an eternal round of bridge, alcohol and gossip, none of which had the slightest interest to a fourteen year old boy, It didn't help matters that the house boy took every opportunity to brush his bare thigh against my body each time he served me and when the cook came in as usual after we'd eaten to check everything was up to standard and to obtain instructions for the morrow he looked me straight in the face when asking if everything was all right.
I had to make some lame excuse to remain seated after we'd eaten until they left the room and I was able, with some difficulty, to adjust my dress to a more comfortable and less obvious state. If I'd thought that meal was a problem the next few days were hell. My relatives seemed set on making sure I wasn't left alone at any time, there always seemed to be one or the other somewhere about the house, I could have cried with frustration. The staff seemed to think it all a big joke, at any rate they did in my imagination. The garden boys took to working with their shirts off, the cook was always asking if there was anything the young Master would like from him before he returned to his school and the houseboy always seemed to place his hand right over my morning erection when he brought my breakfast tray in.
At night it got even worse; I'd have a wank in the shower before bed, and then still be unable to sleep, tossing and turning under the thin sheet, obtaining no satisfaction from the fan turning with a hum above my bed. Being grateful at least I'd not be disturbed as had often happened in earlier years I'd push the sheet back and jack off again, playing through my mind the scene I'd come across the other day and its conclusion with me. At times I'd imagine it was my body bent over the table and my arsehole being violated and my mouth used to suck on a cock, somehow that idea always managed to get me off and then sometime, to sleep.
That could be worse; all I could dream off was rooms full of naked coloured bodies and glimpses somewhere between them of a small sun kissed white body I took to be mine.
However much I twisted and turned it never seemed possible to see the face to make sure and was never able to see exactly what was happening to that white body through the forest of black and brown limbs.
Then, in the last couple of nights something changed. In my dream I'd be looking up at the face of our cook towering above me and somehow it would morph into Paul from school.
Where did that come from? On my return to school for the next year I'd be moving up a class of course, into the senior section, and there would be a new Head Boy from the final year. Everyone knew it would be Paul, not because he was the son of some African Ambassador but because he did well academically and was already captain of the athletic and swim teams. Now I was about to turn sixteen he would also be my captain as well as Head Boy. I'd never had reason to see him fully undressed, in fact not really thought much about him before now. As Head Boy he'd be authorised to apply physical punishment, my school believed in the old adage of spare the rod and spoil the boy and we could get punished for quite minor infringements so I was quite used to that, just not sure why it was almost the first thing that came to mind when I considered him.
He wasn't really black, especially against some of the lads in my class, more of a milk chocolate colour I thought. A good six foot tall with tight black curled hair and a body you'd not consider suitable for athletics unless you were aware his forte was endurance rather than speed, as was his swimming. That gave me pause for thought, we'd be in the same cross- country team now, I was sure I'd find myself picked for the school senior team as I'd been top of the junior section. Swimming I was not so sure about but the thought of seeing him during and after cross country was enough, thinking about his fit mature body clothed in running gear, the sweat running down his back, the legs splashed with mud, his breath gasping, I was gasping myself, for some reason lying before him, my erection straining against my jock strap, wanting to touch him, have him touch me, straining with more than just my cock.
It always seemed to stop there and I'd wake to discover, unsurprisingly, my morning wood begging for attention, usually as my breakfast tray arrived accompanied by that cheeky grin.
When my last weekend came round I almost snapped at my Aunt and Uncle when they suggested for the umpteenth time I might like to accompany them on their overnight visit to friends. The fact none of the house staff would be around, they always had the Saturday night off, was a blow but going with them would have made it worse. At least I would be able to indulge myself in peace. I promised them I was more than happy to spend my last weekend of freedom as I described it, alone, after all, I had done so for most of my visit and was quite capable of feeding myself from the fridge. They would be back of course Sunday night and take me to the airport on the Monday.
Finally, just when I thought I would have a tantrum, they gave up and drove off, leaving me with 24 hours of blessed solitude to do what I wanted in peace. What I wanted was a long hard wank, followed shortly after by another. I knew now how much better that would be with company but at least I'd be able to take my time in the open, rather than a quickie in the shower as had been the case recently. I certainly didn't want to rush things; also, I'd had an idea of something new I wanted to try out.
Striping off in my bedroom to my old thin tight sports shorts I collected a couple of bottles of weak local beer from the fridge, and made my way into the darkening garden accompanied by chirps and faint clicking from the shrubbery as the night insects began to stir. It was a glorious night for play, warm enough to lie around outside in comfort with sweating but still too early in the season season for mosquitoes and other biting insects. I felt free to do anything that came to mind, the warm sweet smelling air round my body, the knowledge this would be the last time I could indulge myself so openly for ages, I just wanted to prolong my play for the longest possible time.
I kept my shorts on, they were really a little too tight but I liked the feeling of constriction they gave to my cock and balls, quite different to a jockstrap, they were being squashed rather than just supported and I'd come to realise lately that I liked the discomfort, likewise the mild pain from my slowly filling bladder. Piss play was another thing I'd really only just skirted round previously, I got enjoyment for some reason when I pissed over my hands in the shower and wiped them over my body before a wank. Now I wanted to piss myself in the open, to feel it running down my legs, then maybe I should get punished.
I had no idea where that thought came from, it just seemed to jump into my head as I walked slowly back and forth in the garden drinking one, then two bottles of beer, my bare feet enjoying the feel of the grass under them, my bladder becoming more painful to the extent I had to use one hand from time to time to squeeze my cock in order to hold back what wanted to flow. That idea of punishment had come from somewhere in my dreams but I couldn't think about that now, my bladder was too full, I just couldn't hold it any longer, it was taking both my hands and clenched arse to stop the flow and even then I could feel a wet patch slowly growing at my groin.
Leaning back against a large tree trunk I closed my eyes, relaxed my clenched muscles, and slowly removed my hands. Even so the flow was slow to start, a combination of tight shorts, the tip of my cock being caught in the waistband and holding back for so long. I groaned aloud.
`You want a hand Master?'
Opening my eyes with a shock I could just make out in the moonlight the two garden boys standing before me, it was more their white teeth grinning and the reflection of moonlight in their eyes than anything else that showed me where they stood until my eyes accustomed themselves. They were almost as naked as myself, each just wearing dull coloured shorts and holding bottles of beer as I had earlier myself.
`You've got the night off,' I half spluttered, sighing at the same time when my bladder finally let go properly and gushed joyfully in release, I just couldn't have held it any longer. Part of the jet splashed halfway up my chest due to my cock head being caught in the waistband, then flowed back down to join the rest as it quickly soaked my shorts, cock and balls, then ran, that should be flowed, down my legs to soak my feet, then turn the dry dust under my tree into a thin mud seeping through my toes.
My body temperature increased by several degrees as I felt myself blush all over, thankful that I couldn't be seen where I stood in the shadows but they must be able to see I'd just wet myself.
Town no good tonight. Back to see you Master, cook here soon also,' as he spoke his hand stretched out to feel between my legs before I had a chance to move. Master got wet then?'
he removed his hand and wiped it across his face making sure I could see his actions. `You want get more wet?'
Daringly I reached out myself to feel between his legs, his shorts were dry but I easily felt a warm semi-erect cock through the thin material, he wasn't wearing underclothes, and slipping my hands up to his waist I slowly pushed down, sliding his shorts down his thighs' used one hand to move his cock out of the way, then pulled his shorts right down to the ground.
Somehow, while I'd been so occupied, the other boy had also lost his clothing and his hands had divested my body of the tight wet piece of thin cotton that had been covering my groin.
Standing before me in the pale moonlight were the two garden boys I'd seen round and about all of my holiday, and for at least the past couple of summers, but I'd never seen them or looked at them in this sense before.
Naked, as was I, only a few inches apart you could feel the shared warmth from our bodies, smell the faint musky sexual pheromones filling the air between us, though it was some years before I became aware of just what that scent consisted of. My hands had moved, one each, to cup and fondle their balls almost of their own accord. I had no intention of being led through this unforeseen meeting as I had the other afternoon.
Where the idea came from I've no idea but not allowing myself time to think I took the half step that brought my body into contact with the nearest boy and placing my hands round his naked buttocks pulled his face level with my own and brought my mouth down to his for a kiss.
Now it was my turn to be surprised, his mouth opened and his tongue slid between my opened teeth to twine itself round my own. I'd never kissed anyone apart from a polite touch on the cheek to my Aunt or grandmother, I didn't like them kissing me back much either, but this was different. It just felt right. This was what it meant in my school books when the literature talked about kissing. Not soppy lips to lips as I'd heard some of my compatriots'
boast of doing with their girlfriends; this was proper kissing, real contact between persons.
When we had to break in order to breath I took the opportunity of turning my head and had my mouth attacked once again, this time by the other boy. I couldn't get enough, paying no attention as we made our way from under the trees to the lawn and knelt, and then lay down.
I was too enthralled by this new experience, the mild taste of corn they must have eaten for dinner and beer they'd obviously been drinking, and something else I couldn't put my mind to. In later years I realised what I'd been so lucky to find with my first real kiss, it was young fresh breath. Whatever it was, right then all I knew was the boy's mouths both tasted nice and I enjoyed kissing them, rubbing my tongue across their teeth, and being kissed back.
It entered my mind suddenly that there were more hands roaming over my body than could possibly belong to the garden boys so raising my head slightly and opening my eyes I looked around to see, with a start, I seemed to be surrounded, so it seemed in the poor light, by half the coloured male population from the nearest village. It occurred to me that maybe I should resist; possibly make some comment of indignation, but the feelings running up and down my body, the hands pushing me back down on the grass, others introducing my body to its erogenous zones, they made the decision for me and I lay back and surrendered myself to the night and whatever it might bring.