Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and of love. This story may contain erotic and/or sexually explicit behaviour between consenting adults and teens, some of whom may be underage. If it is illegal for you to, or you find this sort of work offensive, don't download or read it!
The people in this story do not use protection because diseases don't exist here. However, in our world they do so please use caution and protection.
This story is protected by copyright. It may not be downloaded or copied other than for your private enjoyment and may not be changed in any way without the expressed written consent of the author. This story may not be put on any pay to view site.
SIMON THE BACKPACKER - Part 32 By 'The Colonel
Come on boys' I said. We ought to be making tracks as well. It's school tomorrow so a nice early night tonight for everyone.'
We dressed and headed back towards our vehicles and had a leisurely drive home, stopping on the way at MacDonalds for burgers and chips for tea.
I guessed it would be useless telling Gary that he and the others should get to sleep early as it was his last night with us (for now) and I guessed he would want to play all night if he could.
When we got home he asked if he could sleep with Simon and Jason and they agreed willingly enough, which meant the twins would get a good night's sleep.
I slept alone for a change, but I didn't sleep well. My mind was wandering and wondering what Uncle Harry's legacy was all about.
I was awoken at around 5 o'clock when a freezing cold Gary pushed himself into my back. He had got up for a pee and the central heating had not yet kicked in.
I was quite pleased because I had become unused to sleeping alone and I was grateful for the company. Grateful, that is, until I realised there would be a price to pay when Gary whispered `I know you won't fuck me, but I still wanted my last session this weekend to be with you'. And thus saying, I felt his cock stirring in the small of my back.
I decided to let him have his wicked way with me and turned on to my back. Before I had even made myself comfortable his little hand was around my cock and I started getting hard immediately. I suddenly realised that I was busting for a pee but his hand was doing such a good job I decided I could put it off for a little while.
Gary leaned over and kissed me and then let go of my cock and started kissing my nipples, then my navel and finally took my doubly hard cock in his mouth and proceeded to give me one of the best blow jobs I have ever had. I think my need to pee made it seem even more erotic, but it meant that as I came I had to shoot out of bed and just about made it to the lavatory before my muscles gave up on holding back the flood tide. Gary appeared at the door and watched me peeing. `It's like Niagara Falls' he said. I had to laugh and had difficulty keeping my aim straight. When I had finished and washed my hands he took me by the cock and led me back to bed.
His cock was still rock hard so I gave it a little squeeze and then took him in my mouth and gave his a very slow and leisurely suck, then licked his cock up and down the length of it, stopping when I reached the base to take his balls, one at a time, into my mouth. When I had worked my way again up to the tip and had taken his knob end back into my mouth the moaning started. It slowly got louder and he started bucking. `Faster, faster' he said several times, but I just kept on at the slow rate, trying to make things last as long as possible and give him a good orgasm.
I know from experience that a slow blow job or hand job usually results in a more intense orgasm, even when self-induced and it certainly seemed to be working on Gary. As he started begging to be allowed to cum the twins appeared in the doorway, having been woken by his moaning and they watched with amusement as I worked on his increasingly spasm-wracked body until eventually I took pity on him and with a little deft tongue work around his piss slit he gave a final shriek, almost a scream, as she shot his copious load into my mouth. One, two, three, four, five, six long, hard spurts into the back of my throat followed by at least a dozen after shocks' before he managed to form the words You bastard', but he said it with a self-satisfied grin on his face.
The boys climbed in as I climbed out and went to shower, then went downstairs to get everything ready for them for school.
I breathed a sigh of relief when Gary finally left as he had been extremely demanding of us all over the weekend. The house emptied as everyone went about their normal routines and I decided to treat myself to another hour in bed and drifted off to sleep, only to be woken by the phone at about 9.30am. It was Uncle Harry's solicitor who told me that the will was to be read the following afternoon at 3pm at their local office on the Isle of Wight. Nobody in the family had thought to let me know about Harry's funeral, so I had missed that but he suggested that I be there for the reading of the will. I said I would attend and went to have a word with the boys in the pub to make sure they could see to the twins as I would probably stay overnight and return home on the Wednesday. Ray said that he had the Tuesday afternoon and all day Wednesday off and said he would stay in the house with Simon and Jason and make sure the boys had clean clothes and a hot meal while I was away.
I returned home and packed a small overnight bag ready for the next day and spent the rest of Monday wondering what it was all about.
Tuesday dawned overcast and when I had seen the boys off to school I made my way down to the New Forest and to Lymington to catch the ferry across to the island.
I checked into a hotel for the night and then made my way to the solicitors' offices in the town of Newport. I was greeted by my cousin Harriet and her husband Cedric who, apparently, had looked after Uncle Harry towards the end and I asked them why they had not contacted me when he fell ill as I could then have at least visited him. But they said they didn't want to worry me. (Didn't want me to get my hands on any of his money or property more likely!)
I also chided them about not telling me of his death or funeral arrangements but they were unrepentant and seemed to really begrudge the fact that he had left me something in his will.
The time eventually came for the will to be read and with several other distant relatives and one or two of Harry's friends we all gathered together in a rather cramped little room in the pub next door.
The Solicitor began by detailing small bequests to his friends and distant relatives and the came my turn:
To my nephew Robert I leave the property at St Catherine's Point known as The Hermitage' with the adjacent private beach. I make the stipulation that it continue be run along its present lines. Failure to comply with this stipulation will result in the property being sold to the highest bidder and the monies be put in trust for my son, Brian Calverley.'
At this, there was absolute uproar, mainly from Harriet and Cedric who, firstly, knew nothing of the property at St. Catherine's Point, but more importantly did not know of the existence of any son.
After the solicitor regained order he explained to them that Uncle Harry had secretly married eighteen years earlier when he was living in New Zealand and a son was born three years later, but tragically his wife dies in childbirth. Uncle Harry had returned home with his son and put the child with private carers who had raised the boy until the present day. Uncle Harry had visited him regularly and he and the boy had a loving, if spasmodic relationship.
`What sort of property is at St. Catherine's Point?' demanded Harriet.
The solicitor replied that it was a private beach stretching about three-quarters of a mile with cottages and chalets attached like a small holiday camp and was known as `The Hermitage Centre for Naturism'. In other words, Uncle Harry had left me a Nudist Beach with accommodation.
To my niece Harriet' continued the solicitor I leave my house and the furniture contained therein. All other assets, monies et cetera I leave in trust to my son Brian until he is eighteen years old when he will inherit them in full'
`After all we did for him, all we get is the house?' demanded Harriet.
That seems to be the case' said the solicitor and I think there's very little point in contesting the will as it is all very simply explained and the will was only made a couple of weeks ago.'
I will be in touch with each of you in due course' said the solicitor except Mr Robert Calverley who I would like to join me in my office in about half-an-hour.'
I went down to the bar and ordered a stiff drink, followed by another one, followed by a third.
When I met the solicitor (Mr. Makepeace) in his office he explained that he wanted to see me as Uncle Harry had indicated that he would like me to keep an eye on his son for the next few years until he was old enough to take care of himself. He told me that Brian lived with a very caring couple who were very fond of him but that he had no company his own age and had private tuition so he hardly mixed with other teenagers at all. The really tragic part of all this' said Mr. Makepeace is that although Brian is a lovely boy, very handsome, extremely intelligent and very lively, he has been blind from birth.'
I sat in silence taking this all in. `Of course, if you don't want the responsibility...' said Mr. Makepeace.
Oh, please don't get that idea' I said I was just trying to take in the tragedy of it all. I shall be more than pleased to keep an eye on Brian and maybe I might even be able to do more for him, you see I am the guardian of two fifteen-year-old boys already and there might be a possibility that Brian may be able to come and live with us. Of course, I would not dream of taking him away from his present carers if that's where he wants to stay, but if he likes the idea, it may be a real possibility. In any case, I will invite him to come and stay with us for a holiday and let him decide for himself. In the meantime I suppose I ought to go and look at my new property and see what it's all about.'
`Rather you than me' said Mr Makepeace with a smile and I left his office after arranging to meet him the following morning when he would take me to meet Brian and his carers.
I called a taxi and a short while later we pulled up outside a large pair of gates with a smart sign The Hermitage Centre for Naturism' prominently displayed. I rang the bell and a man in shorts who introduced himself as Frank Hasler opened up for me. I introduced myself and told him that I was the new owner of The Hermitage'. Frank told me that he and his wife Edna were the resident managers of The Hermitage and had been so ever since Harry acquired the property some twelve years previously. We went into the main reception area and the whole place seemed to be well run and very well maintained.
We have thirty chalets, each one housing between two and six people and we have twelve cottages for the larger parties, each one housing up to twelve people. At this point a naked woman appeared from the office and he introduced her as his wife Edna. We shook hands and chatted for a while whilst people of all ages and both sexes wandered in and out of reception. You don't seem to be bothered by the nudity' Frank observed.
No' I replied Although we're all male in the house, we often wander around naked' I said.
`Well, you'll notice that there are far more men here than women because a lot of our clientele are gay. When Harry acquired the property it was exclusively gay, but over the years more and more families have started coming, but we all seem to get along together very well.'
`Well, If I bring my mob over for a holiday, you'll have another gay party' I said, making my position clear.
`Well, as long as you all behave yourselves in the public areas and on the beach nobody will hold it against you' he said.
He took me for a guided tour of the centre and it was surprisingly large and well equipped. There was a licensed bar, a cafe/restaurant, a well-equipped games room, a general store for the self-catering holidaymakers and all the equipment you could wish for to have an enjoyable seaside holiday.
I made it plain to Frank that as long as things continued to the same high standard he and Edna would remain in charge and I would only bother them from time to time, mainly for holidays. I said I would be sending in an accountant to look over the books, purely as a formality and to see whether I thought the present tariff needed amending. I emphasised that I was not looking to make a huge profit. As long as the place was ticking over and paying its way I would be happy.
He thanked me for the reassurances and we parted more as friends than anything else.
I got back to my hotel just in time for dinner and turned in for an early night (the sea air had got to me) looking forward to meeting Brian the following day.
The Colonel
I hope you have enjoyed this, the thirty-second chapter of Simon The Backpacker. Please tell your friends if you have, and let me know if you have any suggestions for future storylines.
I thrive on feedback (positive or otherwise) so PLEASE keep in touch. You can reach me at Colcalverley@aol.com
I will reply to all messages.