Upton Abbey
Any resemblance to the PBS series "Downton Abbey" might not be accidental.
My father, the Earl of Upton, had one overriding ambition. He was determined that I should grow up to be gay. He spared no effort to make sure that it would happen and that the heir to his title would be, as he was, a faggot, a shirt-lifter, a pillow-biter, an arse bandit and a fucking cocksucker, as some of the coarser members of his household would say. He longed for a world in which homosexuality was the norm and heterosexuals were in the minority, a world with less bigotry and conflict, with more tolerance and freedom. He was way ahead of his time. He made no secret of his sexual orientation, in fact it was his habit to flaunt it at every opportunity, unlike his own father who'd lived in a more repressive age and had been merely a closet queen. Father, still in his thirties, was painfully good looking, forever being chased by ambitous society women whose efforts went unrewarded. The press loved him, calling him "one of England's stately homos", his picture appearing often in newspapers and magazines, the less tasteful ones making crude puns about "Earl Gay Tea".
He'd married solely in order to produce a male heir, and as far as I know, only ever had sex with his bride for that specific purpose, and the instant she became pregnant with me, he moved to a separate bedroom. When I was two years old, she ran off with an American who had an even bigger fortune than he. I have no memory of her and have never missed her. I don’t image he has, either.
Although by the dawn of the twenty first century many of the British aristocracy had fallen on hard times, the Upton estate, dating back to Tudor times, still had extensive acreage and quite a large staff. Naturally, they were all male. The chambermaids of an earlier era had been replaced by men, called assistant housekeepers, and the cook was a celebrated chef with an all male staff, bribed away from a West End restaurant. The principal qualification for employment at Upton was a taste for sex that mirrored my father’s. Prospective employees were interviewed by Carston the butler, in the privacy of his office and the rumour was that a blow job had to take place to ensure acceptance, though who blew whom is lost to history. Not that it mattered. All the staff were as queer as three-pound notes.
I never attended primary school. My father didn’t want me coming into contact with pretty young girls at an impressionable age. Instead I had a tutor, Mr. Hardwick, recently down from Cambridge with a fancy degree, long wavy hair and a very limp wrist. Hardwick, swishy as he was, never hit up on me, though we did spent an inordinate amount of time talking about sex. He confessed to me that he was a total bottom, and never made advances to anyone, other than inviting them to molest, abuse and thoroughly satisfy him. A prepubescent boy like me, adorable though I was, was safe in his hands.
For a lad of my age I was somewhat sexually sophisticated. I'd always been present those times when the stable staff were trying to get a stallion to cover a mare, and the previous year the head groom had been helping events along by taking hold of the stallions dick and inserting it into her. "Let me do it!" I cried and took hold of the two foot long horse's penis and pushed its tip into her. I received a smattering of applause from the head groom and his staff as the horse thrust it home into her. As a result of my performance my father wanted to know how much I knew about sex. "Hardwick's told me things, and Peter Handcock knows a lot of stuff," I informed him. Peter was the son of one of the grooms. His father, although totally gay, had suffered through a short marriage for long enough to produce a son who became one of my few playmates near my own age, being just a year older than I. They lived above the stables.
"Have you started wanking yet, Richard?" asked my father. I suppose that most eleven year old kids would be embarrassed my a question like that coming from a parent, but I wasn't in the least put off by it. Sex was not a taboo subject in Upton Abbey.
"Not really, Father. I get a hard-on from time to time, but that's about it."
"As I remember, I was wanking at your age, several times a day, and not always with my own dick. Yhe first time you cum, I want you to tell me," he said. "There are many things a man can do with his dick and I doubt if Handcock's son is an encyclopaedia of sexual gratification."
"I will, Father, I promise you."
Bordered by acres of green lawn, Upton Abbey had a small lake which had a wooden jetty from which one could swim. One hot summer's afternoon, Peter and I were swimming, dressed only in our white briefs. I had to admit he looked pretty sexy. After we climbed out of the water, he said, "We should take our underpants off and let them dry." He was looking intently at me as I pulled my briefs down and stepped out of them. He peeled his own off and we spread them out on the hot wooden planks. "You're dick's shrunk, Dick," he said, looking at my little cock. "And so's mine. It's the cold water. I'm gonna make it bigger." He leaned back on one elbow and started stroking his cock with his other hand. In just a few seconds it was stiff, much bigger than my own. "You try it," he said and I duely started to wank my shrunken member. Not much happened.
He watched me for a few seconds then said, "Let me help." He reached across and took over from me. "It feels much nicer when someone else does it, don't you agree?" I did. My first reaction was to resist his efforts, but politeness compelled me to submit. One is not rude to one's servants. Immediately, my cock began to stiffen until it became completely hard. It was much more exciting than when I did it to myself. Peter's dick, now abandoned, still stayed quite stiff and I felt it only proper that I should return the favour he was bestowing on me, noblesse oblige and all that, so I took hold of it and began to wank him, gently at first, until he said, "Faster, faster!" He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, clearly in ecstacy as, with three fingers, I pulled his foreskin back and forth over the little acorn head of his dick. I was fascinated by his reaction, thrilled by the fact that we were allowing each other to touch our most intimate parts, and by the excitement he was showing. He let out several loud groans, the end of his dick swelled up and then I watched, enthralled as three little blobs of white cum splashed on to his chest. I kept on stroking him until he pushed my hand away. "Fuck, that felt good!" he said, smiling at me. "That was the best wank I ever had."
"I enjoyed it too," I said. The gulf between master and servant was rapidly shrinking.
"But you didn't cum. Maybe in a few months you will. It feels fantastic, believe me."
"I still enjoyed wanking you," I said. "I like playing with your dick. Can we do this again soon?"
"Absolutely. Every chance we get."
Thereafter, we spent many happy afternoons by the lake or in the stables, anywhere we could be alone. Making him cum gave me a sense of power that was addictive, and he always did his best to get me aroused, which wasn't hard, but my longed-for orgasm didn't happen for weeks. One afternoon, we were deep in the woods sitting with our backs to a huge oak tree, our pants round our ankles, our underpants round our knees, furiously wanking each other, when I had a sudden urge to take his cock in my mouth. I leaned down and placed my lips round his dick.
"Fuck, that feels good!" he groaned. "You're driving me crazy." I'd never done anything so intimate with another person before, and I was astonished and thrilled by my own daring. I sucked his dick in and out, hoping he would cum in my mouth and the thought of it set my head spinning. His hand was still working on my dick, then suddently it happened. I thought he was going to cum, but it was I who came first. A wonderful thrill ran through the whole of my body, rushing into my dick, my tailbone tingled and my cock pulsed. I let go of Peter's dick and looked down. I didn't see any cum. So that was an orgasm, I thought. It was as good as I'd hoped, but I didn't like the empty feeling afterwards.
"Did you cum?" asked Peter.
"Yes," I said. "But nothing came out of my dick."
"Patience, it won't be long now." He pulled his underpants and pants back up, knowing that for me, for the moment, it was over.
"You can finish me off another time," he said. "And I'll suck yours, too. It felt amazing." We headed back to the big house and I left him and went to find my father. I found him in his study.
"I had my first orgasm today, Father," I blurted.
He turned and gave me a big smile, holding his hand out. "Congratulations, Son," he said, shaking my hand. "You're growing up. Want to tell me about it?"
I wasn't sure that Peter would want me to tell our secrets, but I was eager to share my happiness with someone. I hesitated then said, "Peter Handcock and I were in the woods, playing with each other's dicks, and I started to suck him off."
"Bravo," said Dad. "Did he cum?"
"No, it was I who came. He was wanking me, but having his dick in my mouth was so exciting that I came in just a few seconds. It was a dry ogasm, Father. I didn't shoot any cum."
He put his arms round me and gave me a hug. "I'm proud of you, my boy. Don't tell anyone else, but you should suck him off every chance you get. Let him suck you, too." He kissed me on the cheek, reached his hand down and gave the front of my pants a squeeze. He'd never touched me there before, but I loved my father and I'd let him do whatever he liked to me.
That night, after we'd gone to bed, he came into my room. He had on a dressing gown, its belt untied, and I could see his white silk boxers which had the Upton coat of arms embroidered on them, with its Latin motto "manus auxiliabundus" which means "a helping hand". I was wearing just my little white briefs. He sat on the bed beside me. "I imagine it's been quite a day for you, Richard," he said. "I can well remember my first orgasm. I was at boarding school and one of my friends and I were behind the bike shed sneaking a smoke. He started fondling my cock, then unzipped my pants and put his hand in. Naturally, I eagerly returned the favour and the feel of his hard little cock in my hand was thrilling. I came pretty quickly. Ever since then, I've stroked every cock I can put my hands on." My father's never been reticent about his gay past and even when I was much younger, he'd talk quite openly about his adventures with young men. He continued, "So, young Peter Handcock wanked you off! Well, well. How did it feel?"
"His hand on my dick felt amazing, but it was his cock in my mouth that got me really going."
"You're a man after my own heart, son." I lay down across the bed, my legs hanging over the side, my hands behind my head. He looked at me. I know that look. Most of the staff look at me that way from time to time, as though they want to eat me. I smiled up at him.
"I can understand why young Peter wanked you off. You're a very sexy young boy." I that moment I truly did feel sexy. I know how good I look in just my underpants and I've often stood in front of the mirror just looking at myself, my dick stiff inside my briefs. He reached his hand out and cupped my basket. I gave him an encouraging smile. "Your dick's getting big," he said. "Do you have any pubic hair yet? Let's take a look." He could have simply looked at my armpits, but he started to pull my briefs down, and I let him. It felt good, showing myself off like that. My dick came into view, more than half hard. Father ran his hand down my abdomen, his fingers either side of my cock, brushing the few tiny blond hairs there. "You have a beautiful cock," he said, sliding his fingers up my shaft. "A nice big foreskin like mine. You can have a lot of fun with foreskins." He rolled mine back, bent down and inhaled the aroma of my dick. "Mmm," he murmured.
"Can I see yours?" I asked. I'd seen my father's dick on other occasions but never under intimate circumstances like this. He shrugged off his robe and lay back on the bed.
"Help yourself, dear boy," he said then took hold of my dick again. I put my hand in the fly of his boxers and pulled his cock out. It was the first time I'd ever touched it. My heart began to pound. It looked enormous, rigid and moist at the end. He let out a huge sigh of contentment and turned his head to look at me. "I love you so much, Son," he said.
"I love you too, Father," I responded and began to stroke his cock.
"You're good at this. I imagine you've been practicing with young Handcock."
"Every chance I get." He laughed.
"Isn't this wonderful?" he said, "Father and son giving each other a helping hand. My father used to do it to me. He was gay, too. Oh, son, I think I'm gonna cum. Oh, shit! Fuck me!" I'd never heard him using language like that before. Cleary, he was too aroused to care. Then he let out a kind of yelp and several large blobs of cum shot from his dick on to his chest, then more dribbled down my hand on on to his silk underpants. I was overwhelmed with joy. I'd made my father cum! I was laughing as I wiped my hands on his underpants, smearing his jism over the embroidered family crest with its appropriate motto.
"Fantastic, Father. That was a big load. I can't wait until I'm shooting cum too."
"Me, neither, Richard. Do you want me to finish you off?"
"It's okay," I said, thinking he would be feeling empty, just as I did after I came. "I can do it myself. You should go take a shower and wash your cum off."
"Right," he said. "Though maybe I'll just leave it on me. I like the smell of cum."
I smiled. He blew me a kiss and left. With my briefs still round my thighs I began to wank, reliving the moment when the Earl sprayed himself with jism and in less than a minute, I'd cum again, twice in one day. I was pround of myself.
That September, I started at Upton Grammar, a nearby all-boys private school. Although England's class ridden society of yesteryear had now become more egalitarian, most of the boys were from affluent homes, with 'posh' accents, well tailored school uniforms and emaculate underwear. The school hosted a few boarders living on the premises, but I was a day-boy, riding to school and back on my bike, as most of us did. I soon learned that what they say about the British public schools (which, perversely, is what we call private schools in this country) is true, namely that they're hotbeds of homosexual depravity. Well, that my be a bit extreme, because most of the depraved things I've done I did elsewhere, but there was a great deal of mutual masturbation and cocksucking going on, and everyone knew about it. I don't think there was much anal sex, at least not among the junior boys, as the rectum of an eleven year old resists the insertion of anything much bigger than a finger, and it didn't seem like it would be much fun, though in later years, I changed my mind. No one tried to fuck me, though I was regularly groped, fondled and wanked by my classmates and several of the teachers. I didn't discourage them, but I suppose the boys were too inexperienced to take it to the level of anal penetration and the teachers too nervous. Upon reflection, if anyone had blown the whistle on a teacher, my father the Earl, who was on the school board, would have quietly taken care of matters. They may not have known it, but any of my teachers could have groped molested me with impunity. It would probably have resulted in improved grades.
One of the highlights of the week was P.E., before and after which we were required to change into and out of shorts and singlets. I always watched covertly as my classmates undressed. I was secretly thrilled by the strip-shows, until one day, a boy blurted out, "Richard's looking at my penis!" I started to deny it, but another boy jumped in and said, "So am I. It's just like a dick only smaller!" Everyone laughed except the victim, and after that, I didn't care who caught me staring at them. Many of them looked back at me, as I showed off in my white briefs. One evening I asked my dad if I could wear silk boxers with the family coat of arms like he did. He concurred and arranged for the tailoring of half a dozen pairs in my size, which I wore proudly. I was the envy of my class. Unlike the baggy, plaid boxers displayed above low-hanging pants that are worn by many young boys these days, my underpants fitted quite snugly, and if I wasn't wearing trousers you could see the end of my dick up the short leg. My friends would ask to inspect the embroidered crest close up, but I believed that that was just a cover to look at my dick. On several occasions, in secluded locations, I allowed them to try my underpants on, to experience the silky feel, which usually lead to nice wanking and sucking sessions. I truly enjoyed my school years.
When I was twelve, one Sunday afternoon, bored out of my skull, I thought I might take a ride, and wandered into the stable to ask Peter Handcock to tack my horse for me. I could hear familiar grunting noises from one of the stalls, and when I looked in, there was Peter on his knees, in front of the footman, Thomas, whose pants were round his ankles.
"Handcock!" I called, sharply. "What do you think you're doing?"
Peter, dressed in boots, jodhpurs and a white singlet, turned to face me. "Forgive me, sir," he said in a deferential tone. "I was merely sucking Thomas's dick. I was unaware that it might cause offence."
"You can't be sucking the cocks of servants during working hours," I said in a pompous tone. "You'll have to be punished. Is there a horsewhip in here?"
"No, sir," said Peter with a grin, "you'll have to make do with spanking me." Thomas, stood there watching, hands on his hips with his hard cock on display, making no effort to hide it.
"Take your pants down, Handcock, and bend over." He obligingly unzipped his jodhpurs, slid them down to the tops of his boots and bent over. "Underpants, too, man."
"Allow me, sir," said Thomas, stepping forward and pulling Peter's briefs down.
"Thank you, Thomas, but don't think you've got away with anything. You're next." I stood close to Peter, reached underneath him and took hold of his rigid dick and with my other hand, caressed his bum, running my finger over his hole. He shivered with pleasure and then I gave him half a dozen playful slaps on his cute behind.
"Ouch," he cried, playing along. When I finished, he stood up facing us, his cock if anything, even harder.
"Are you a cocksucker, too, Thomas?" I asked.
"No, sir. I'm not a fuckin' queer."
"Well, someone has to finish him off, and if you're unwilling, I suppose I'll have to." I said, exercising the priviledge of my class, dropping to my knees and taking Peter's cock in my hand. "I'll let you watch, so long as you go back to work the instant I've finished." When I started to suck him it was not so much the feel of his dick between my lips that I found exciting, as the knowledge that Thomas was pumping at his own cock as he watched me suck his colleague, seeing my depravity and my apparent submission to a junior servant. I put my hands on Peter's bum and pulled him so that his dick went right to the back of my throat. He thrust away at my face, groaning with pleasure, then I felt the end of his cock swell up as he came in my mouth, four or five big squirts. When he pulled out, I looked up at his handsome face smiling down at me. The taste of him was intoxicating, slightly bitter but nice and creamy. I opened my mouth so that they could both see it was full of cum, then I swallowed. "I never realised that cum would taste so good," I said. "Thank you, Handcock." He pulled up his underpants and jodhpurs. "Time for a second helping, I think," I said. "Come here, Thomas." I shuffled towards him on my knees in the straw as he stepped up to me, his hard cock pointing at my face, his hand still stroking it. I put out my tongue so that it touched the end of his dick, dripping with precum as he wanked away. My big blue eyes were gazing up at him in eager expectation.
"Oh, fuck me!" he grunted in his working-class Merseyside accent. "Suck my fuckin' cock, you fuckin' queer." This insubordinate sneer coming from an uncouth, uneducated minion gave an added thrill and made a welcome change from the snooty accents of my schoolmates. I could see from the corner of my eye that Peter was watching, and I hoped he was enjoying the scene, even though he'd just cum. It wasn't long before Thomas shot a squirt on to my tongue, then I clamped my lips round his dick and sucked the remainder out. He let out a contented sigh. Like Peter's cum, his was delicious and I eagerly swallowed it all, and collapsed on my butt into the straw. Thomas pulled his pants up.
"Thank you, sir," he said, remembering his manners. "Please don't be offended if I say that you did that rather well."
"Thank you, but I still owe you a spanking, Thomas."
"I can hardly fuckin' wait, Master Richard." Neither could I. When they'd gone, I had a delicious wank.
The next morning, I went into my father's dressing room, looking for his valet, Banes. He was there, standing close to the Earl with his hand thrust into the fly of my father's pants.
"What are you doing, Banes?" I asked.
"I wish you'd knock before coming into my personal quarters," said my father. I apologised. "Banes was merely adjusting my clothing, Richard. That's his job."
"I was simply trying to decide whether his Lordship should dress to the left or the right," Banes said, straightfaced.
Yeah, right, I thought. "I have a problem with my underpants, Banes," I announced.
"Oh my God!" said my father in mock horror. "Inform the media, Banes. Heir to earldom has underwear problem, film at eleven!" The valet laughed, politely. I had to smile.
"Two of the pairs in my room are the large size. I think the housekeeper's mixed them up. You must have two small pairs, Father."
"Take a look, Banes," said father and Banes rumaged through a drawer, producing two pairs of small silk boxers. He held them up, showing the crest.
"I shall have a word with housekeeping, my Lord," he said.
"Richard, I think it's time that Banes served as valet to you, too. The additional work load should not be too onerous, right, Banes?" I couldn't imagine exactly what his duties would be, but Banes, although only slightly younger than my father, was a very attractive man, as befitted the personal servant of a gay aristocrat. He could help me dress any time he liked. I wondered what he'd look like in his underwear. Did the household servants have the family crest on their underwear? Probably not, as neither Peter nor Thomas did.
"Quite so, my Lord. It would be my priviledge." Turning to me he asked, "Shall I take these to your room, Master Richard?"
"Thank you, Banes. I'll come with you." In my room, I looked through my underwear drawer for two large pairs but could only find one pair. "I must have the other pair on," I said to the valet.
"Allow me, sir," he said, dropping to his knees and unzipping my pants. I stepped out of them and stood there, letting Banes admire me, as so many men and boys seem eager to do.
"You're correct," he said. "These are large size. I'll give them back to his Lordship." He reached out and pulled them down over my hips. I love the smooth feel of silk sliding down my body. Bane's face was just inches in front of me as my dick came into view. "I have to say, sir, that you have quite a large penis for a twelve year old boy."
"Thank you, Banes. It just appears big because I'm most of the way to getting a hard-on. My dick likes being looked at."
"You should be proud, sir."
"I think, Banes, if we're to share intimacies like this, you can call my by my given name."
"Certainly, Richard."
"Dick. I like Dick."
"Don't we all?" he murmured, taking my boxers from round my ankles. I took my shirt off, leaving just my white singlet covering my upper body.
He looked me up and down. "Might I ask, Master Dick, at the upcoming fancy dress party on halloween, what you intend to come dressed as?"
"I haven't decided. Why are you asking now?"
He stretched the bottom of my singlet down until it reached my thighs. "Because, one could imagine for a moment that this singlet is a dress and you're a llttle girl. I had the idea that you could attend dressed in feminine attire. I believe that many of the guests would enjoy having a young girl at the party. You'd be the only female there. " I was suddently excited. He let go of the hem of my singlet which popped back up to reveal my dick which had suddently become quite rigid.
"Banes, you're a genius! What a splendid idea! I could wear a wig."
"I would say that your hair is long enough."
"And knickers and a bra." I became even more excited. The staff would love me. Although some of them were quite butch, I believed that they would react quite favourably to a transvestite. The thought of a dick inside my knickers would overcome their antipathy to women, I was sure.
"If you wish I can arrange for Branston to take you into town this afternoon to make some purchases." Branston was the chauffeur. "His Lordship is busy at this moment and I'm sure the Rolls is free."
"Excellent suggestion, Banes." He was still gazing at my dick and I could see an erection inside his pants. I couldn't resist the temptation to reach out and run my hand over it and then, of course, I just had to unfasten his pants and let them fall. His hard cock poked out of a pair of my fathers silk boxers.
"Good Lord, Banes, are those the Earl's underpants?"
"I confess they are. I took them out of the laundry hamper. I find that wearing another man's underwear to be extremely stimulating, especially after he's been wearing them and if they have cum stains, so much the better and his underpants always seem to have fresh stains. You're not going to tell him are you?"
"Banes, you rogue! I never knew you were such a pervert."
"It's a job requirement, sir."
"Well, I won't tell my father if you take care of me as you should and right now you should stop looking at my dick and give me a helping hand."
"As you wish," he said, falling to his knees and wrapping his hand round my shaft.
Remembering my manners, I said, "Would you be kind enough to allow me to cum in your mouth?"
He looked up at me, an eager smile on his face."It would be my pleasure, Dick."
"I'll return the favour in due course."
"I'm sure you will, Master Richard."
The Earl's Rolls Royce did not bear the coat of arms on its doors, which would have been a little ostentatious, but we did have a carriage in the stables, drawn by a pair of matched bays, skillfully driven by Branston, which did display the crest. It was only used on special occasions, county fairs, visiting minor royalty etc. Although rather young for the job, being only eighteen, he was a skillful coachman and had won prizes in coach driving competitions, but he'd been hired on the basis of his good looks, like most of the staff at Upton. He obligingly held the door of the Rolls open for me as I climbed in. In my grandfather's day, the chauffeurs at Upton Abbey wore a traditional grey uniform with jodhpurs, but in the modern century, Branston wore a dark suit and a peaked cap. He looked quite elegant. We drove through the village of Upton and on to the nearby town, which was big enough to boast a couple of department stores. Together we looked for something to dress me in, but nothing seemed quite right. After looking at a number of outfits, Branston came up with an excellent idea.
"If you try to look like a woman with tits and everything, given your narrow hips, it's going to look phony. What would you say to dressing as a schoolgirl of your own age, with a plaid skirt and white socks? You would look a lot sexier, even with a flat chest, and if the skirt is short enough, you could let people look up it."
"Brilliant, Branston. You're a genius, but let's keep this a secret between us. I want to spring a surprise at the halloween party."
Half an hour later we were back in the Rolls, the boot loaded with packages. We drove back thrpough the country lanes and just before we reached Upton, I said, "I have to take a pee. Can you pull over?"
"Certainly, sir. I need to pee myself." He pulled off the road beside a gate which led to a field and we left the car, opened the gate and stepped behind the hedge. We pulled our dicks out and started to relieve ourselves. Naturally, I had to look at Branston's dick.
"That's quite a big cock you have there, Branston."
"It's not that big," he said. "It just looks that way because I've started to get a hard-on." He finished peeing and began to shake the drops of with a masturbatory motion.
"I do believe you're wanking," I said with a grin, as my own dick began to stiffen.
"Would that offend you?"
"Not at all. I like watching guys wanking and I like it when they watch me." I did some drop-shaking motion myself and my cock became fully rigid. I turned to face him and he stepped close to me. The tips of our cocks touched, sending a thrill through me, and then I felt his hand take hold of me.
"You're a beautiful boy," he murmured. "I've been wanting to fondle your cock for ages now."
"I'm at your disposal, Branston. Help yourself." I was about to take hold of his cock, but he dropped to his knees and took my dick in his mouth. I unfastened my pants and let them fall. With my shirt bunched up round my waist and my cock poking out of the fly of my boxers, I must have looked quite lewd and I could sense his excitement as he started to suck me, caressing my balls with one hand and running the other over my silk covered bum.
"What if someone sees us through the hedge?" I asked.
He released my dick for long enough to say, "I wouldn't care a bit."
I thought about it. I wouldn't care either. In fact I'd be thrilled, and if word got back to my father, he'd be thrilled, too. Then I heard footsteps and a couple of hikers marched past on the road. They were momentarily visible through the hedge, so I suppose we were visible to them. The thought of being seen with my cock in my chauffeur's mouth sent me over the top and I suddenly came, flooding his mouth with cum. He milked me with his lips until I pulled out, tucked my cock back in my underpants and pulled my pants up. The hikers marched on, unaware of the show they had just missed.
"Thank you, Branston. You're very good at your job."
"My priviledge, Master Richard," he said, putting his cock away, smiling broadly.
Back at the abbey, I took my purchases up to my bedroom and unwrapped them. I undressed down to my underpants and looked at myself in the mirror. Although it hadn't been long since I'd cum in Branston's mouth, my customary randiness had returned in full force and my cock was hard in my boxers. I always got hard seeing myself in my underwear. I slid them off and pulled my singlet over my head. I put my hands on my hips and thrust my loins forwards in a provocative pose, then turned sideways to enjoy the sight of my dick pointing upwards. It had become quite large, more the dick of a young man than a littly boy. I took the white knickers we'd bought and drew them up over my thighs and covered my cock. I looked even sexier than when I was naked. I put on the little see-through training bra, then the white blouse and plaid skirt. White ankle socks completed the picture. I tied my long hair back in a pony tail. I didn't need a wig. In the mirror stood a little schoolgirl. On the night, I'd apply just a touch of mascara, but for the moment, I looked quite perfect. I lifted my skirt and looked at my knickers concealing my hard cock. For a moment I wanted to wank again, but then I undressed and stowed everything away.
The halloween party had started and was well underway when I made my entrance. As I walked slowly down the wide staircase, the buzz of conversation diminished and then died away as everyone turned to look up at me. The room was completely silent when I reached the landing half way down. I paused, letting them all gaze at me and then I lifted up my skirt under my chin and showed off my white knickers. For a second nothing happened and then I heard one of the footmen say, "By God, it's young Richard." Immediately a thunderous burst of applause filled the room. I held the pose for several seconds, and as the clapping died away, I dropped my skirt and continued down the stairs. At the bottom, my father greeted me.
"Magnificent!" he said, gripping my hand. "Absolutely splendid. You're the star of the show. Well done, my boy, I'm proud of you." The assembly parted before me as I walked across the ballroom to the piano in the corner, Roman centurions and Napoleons stepping aside, cowboys and ugly witches making way for me. I sat down and played a few chords. Silence fell again as I began to sing: "You make me feel like a natural woman." I finished to another burst of enthusiastic applause. I stood, bowed and walked over the where the punchbowl sat on a sideboard and helped myself to a glass of the sickly-sweet drink. The servants, of course, were not participating in the party, but the footmen and Carston the butler witnessed my triumph and word would spread below stairs in a flash.
After a few minutes, a late-arriving guest was ushered in by Carston. He was a local magistrate by the name of Bellamy, looking ridiculous as a furry rabbit, and he had his son Charles in tow. I recognised Charles from Upton Grammar. He was a couple of years ahead of me and for a while I'd had a bit of a crush on him, until other sexual encounters distracted me. Dressed in a dark blazer and grey slacks, he looked most attractive. Carston pointed him at the punch bowl and he headed towards me.
"Don't drink the punch," I said in a little girl's voice. "It's awful."
"Hello," he said.
"I'm Richard's sister," I said.
"I've never seen you before," he replied, puzzled, clearly fooled by my outfit.
"Oh, I'm just down from boarding school, only for the evening."
"You're not in fancy dress."
"No. I was going to come as Cleopatra, but I was ironing my dress and set it on fire. This is all I have to wear. Would you like some champagne?"
"I don't think they'll let us drink alcohol."
"They won't know. I have a bottle stashed in the library. Come with me." We ducked into the library and I closed the door behind us. I produced a bottle from a bookshelf where I'd hidden it, pulled the cork, took a swig and handed him the bottle.
He upended it and took a long drink, then said, "You're very pretty. You look just like your brother."
"Is my brother pretty, then?"
"Handsome would be a better word. He's a popular boy." I took the bottle from his and and put it down on a table. "So I've heard," I said with a knowing look. My reputation as a dick wanker and cocksucker had spread through the school, so the implication of my remark was clear. "I understand a lot of boys like him." I leaned in close and murmured in his ear, "Did you know he has a big cock?" He looked somewhat shocked. "Oh yes," I added, "I've seen it, lots of times. He likes to show it off."
His eyebrows went up. "To you? To his sister?"
I smiled, enigmatically. "He shows it to everyone he can." I dropped my voice to a whisper. "Do you have a big cock?" My hand went down to the front of his pants and I groped him. For a second he pulled away, but then relaxed and let me fondle him. "Oh, you do, you naughty boy, it is big. I think you're getting hard-on. My brother would be excited if he knew."
"Is he here tonight? I haven't seen him."
"Oh, yes, you'll meet him in just a moment." I took hold of his hand and placed it on my thigh, then gave him a kiss on the cheek. As I expected, his hand slid up until it reached the edge of my panties and then his eyes went big as he realised what was inside them, and he jerked his hand away.
"It's you! Richard, you fucker, it's you, dressed as a girl!"
I laughed. "Yes, it's me. I hope you're not too angry at me." He looked at me, then down at my hand which still cupped his basket.
"I suppose not," he said. "You do look very sexy."
"I've been wanting to touch your cock for about a year now," I said, unzipping his fly and putting my hand inside. I could feel the pouch of his briefs, his dick now as stiff as my own. "Lot of boys at school think you're hot, Bellamy. I'm one of them."
"You have quite a reputation yourself, Richard," he said, "They say you like to show off your underpants in the Gym."
"You missed it earlier when I came downstairs and did this in front of everyone." I pulled my hand out of his pants and lifted my skirt. His mouth fell open as he looked at my knickers, my cock making them bulge at the front.
"Wow," he said. "I bet they liked that. You look so sexy." He reached out and stroked the front of my knickers where a wet patch showed where the end of my dick was. I knew I had him where I wanted him. I stepped back, letting my skirt fall.
"Let's go upstairs to my room. Then you can look at my knickers as much as you want. I'll even let you try them on, and my underpants, too." I took him by the hand and led him up the back stairs to my room. Closing the door behind us, I put my arms round him and said, "Have you ever kissed a girl?"
"Yes, I have."
"Right now, I'm a girl, and I've never been kissed. Do it to me, Charles." His lips touched mine and I opened my mouth to let his tongue in. My first kiss was more thrilling than I could have imagined. He ground his hips against mine and I could feel his hard cock pushing against me. As soon as we broke apart, I unfastened the top of his pants and pulled his zipper down. His pants fell, revealing a pair of blinding white cotton briefs. He stepped out of his pants and let me unbutton his shirt. I stood back as he shrugged it off his shoulders and stood there in his singlet and briefs, a vision of provocative sexiness that set my pulse pounding. "You're fucking gorgeous, Bellamy," I said, unfastening my skirt and letting it fall. He stared at me, looking at my little bra visible through my cotton blouse, and eyeing my knickers hungrily. I smiled. "I know you want to try them on, don't you?"
He blushed. "Must I?" he asked.
His reluctance was faked because he offered no resitance as I pulled his briefs down. His cock was gorgeous and I longed to suck it right there and then, but I didn't want to get ahead of my self.
"Take my knickers off." I commanded. My excitement mounted as he slid them down my hips and my cock sprang out.
"Your sister was right," he grinned, "you do have a big cock. I like it. No wonder you're always showing it off."
"Have you ever sucked a dick?"
"No, not yet."
"I have. Lots of times. I love it. You should try it, but first, let me see what you look like in my knickers." I held them open for him to step into. I was sorry to see his dick disappear inside them, but it was well worth it. His briefs had made hime look sexy, but the knickers took it over the top. I almost came, right there and then. I stood back to admire him. He was staring at me in a way that made me want to be naked so I took off my blouse and unfastened my bra. We stood, admiring each other, dicks erect, faces flushed.
"I want to see how you look in those famous underpants the whole school is talking about," he said. I produced a pair from my dresser drawer and pulled them on. "Fabulous! I can why you're so popular. I could look at you all day long. Can I try them on?"
"I thought you'd never ask. Take them off me, you sexy fucker." He pulled them down my legs and then took the knickers off. In my boxers with his dick sticking out of the fly, he was a dream come true. He looked at himself in the mirror.
"I love them. Just look at me. I'm just as sexy as you are." I was speechless, struck dumb by pure lust. He was hotter than Peter Handcock, lewder than Thomas or any of the other servants, and just as eager as the horniest of my class mates. I couldn't possibly ignore what he clearly desired and what I wanted so much myself and so, inevitably, my arms went round his hips and I pulled his cock into my waiting mouth. I could have sucked him all night, but he was only able to last a few seconds before the gave me a delicious mouthful of warm, creamy cum.
A few minutes later, he was back in his own clothes and I was a little girl again, and we sneaked back into the party, feeling very pleased with ourselves. The evening ended with me playing "I enjoy being a girl" and the whole event was judged a huge success.
The months went by with many more sexual encouters with the staff, for example in the tool shed with one of the under-gardeners whom I caught pushing the handle of a trowel up his arse; in the scullery with a sous chef who wanted to wrap my dick in raw liver to simulate the feel of a vagina; in the back of a van with a visiting chimney sweep's assistant, and one memorable afternon when a window cleaner watched from the top of his ladder as I undressed 'unaware' that he was there, until I slid the sash up and helped him climb in. They all wanted to suck me off, but I often insisted on doing the sucking. It was nice to come in a man's mouth, but much more thrilling to have him cum in mine. I was becoming an addict. At school, the problem was not so much finding a willing partner as I was practically beating them off with a stick, it was finding a suitable moment and a secluded place. 'The bogs' as we called the toilets, were frequently used for sexual assignations, and not just by me. Looking below the door of a stall, one could often see two pairs of feet, and hear the heavy breathing of young boys in heat. The staff must have been aware of it, especially when two boys would simultaneously raise their hands in class and ask for permission go to the bathroom, while the rest of us smirked. It was a way of keeping track of who was wanking with whom. I'd developed quite a reputation which pleased me no end. I was now thirteen years old, far more sexually experience than my contemporaries, and eager to teach them all I'd learned about gay sex.
One morning I woke as Banes came into my room with my morning coffee. He opened the curtains. I lay there in my boxers with my customary hard on protruding from the front. I hate to wear pajamas as they seem so middle class.
"Good morning,” he said. “I pleased to say that your father arrived last night after you’d gone to bed. He didn’t want me to wake you.”The Earl had been spending long periods away from home, sitting in the House of Lords and I felt guilty that I'd been so busy doing depraved thing with my schoolfriends and the staff that I'd hardly missed him.
“Is he awake yet?”
"He is, Master Dick. I've just taken his coffee to him. He was having his morning wank." I jumped out of bed and not bothering to dress, went out into the corridor and headed towards his room. Thomas the footman was at the top of the stairs.
He looked at me. "Oh, my!" he said in his coarse manner. "The future earl's got a hard-on." Although neatly dressed in a suit (footman's liveries at Upton Abbey having been discarded decades ago), his Liverpool accent betrayed his low-class origins. I pretended to ignore him, even though I liked showing myself off in underwear and walked past him. "Nice bum. I'd really like to fuck that." This sort of remark would normally be intolerable coming from a servant, but the fact that I was guilty of having sucked his cock had emboldened him. This was no time to be in a confrontation with a employee, so I merely said, "Careful, Thomas, remember that I owe you a spanking," and walked on, knocked on my father's door and went in. He was sitting up in bed, naked, a laptop open on his thighs and his cock in his hand, pumping away.
"Good morning, Father. Sorry to interrupt."
"Good morning, Richard. Come and look at this." I climbed on to the bed and lay beside him and looked at the screen. It was a video of two men having anal sex. To be honest, the one with the cock up his arse, was only a teenager, probably about sixteen, wearing just a singlet and a rapt expression of intense enjoyment on his face and he was sitting on the cock of the older man, with his back to him. The older man was in an armchair, and the younger supported himself with his arms on the chair and his feet on the man's thighs. As the man lunged up and down, his unbelievably large cock going all the way in and then almost all the way out again, the boy's own body movement caused his own cock, pretty impressive in itself, to swing up and down through a large arc in an inviting way. I wondered why the older man didn't have the good manners to reach round and give the boy a helping hand but perhaps he didn't want the lad to cum too soon.
"What a beautiful sight!" said my father, his hand still stroking his dick.
"Surely that must hurt," I said.
"Not necessarily. One has to do a certain amount of preparation to be able to take a big dick like that all the way up one's arse. One needs be stretched."
"Would that hurt?" I asked, thinking about Thomas and his desire to insert his cock into me. Although Thomas's cock, so familiar to me, wasn't as big as the guy in the video, it was hard to imagine it being shoved up my bum.
"Not if one progresses gradually." He reached for the bell pull and gave it a yank. We continued to watch the sexy lad being royally fucked until the video faded out. "I was hoping for the cum-shot," my father said. Banes knocked and came into the room. Father abandoned his wank.
"Banes, would you be good enough to let Richard borrow some of my butt plugs, the smaller ones for now, I think."
"I'm afraid you only have the medium and large size, my Lord."
"Then talk to Patchmore." Patchmore was the cook. "Get some suitably sized carrots until you can buy some sex toys appropriate for a thirteen year old boy."
"Leave it in my hands, my Lord," said Banes, bowing out.
"Talking of cum-shots, Richard, take a look at this." He opened a new video clip which showed a close up of some guy, the elastic waistband of his briefs hooked under his balls, wanking a long, slender dick just inches in front of the camera.
"What's so special about this?" I asked. I'd watched plenty of videos of guys having a wank.
"Just wait." After a short while, the guy took his hand away and just stood there, a glimmer of moisture on the end of his dick. Every few seconds, his dick would jerk up as he squeezed his arse muscle. Suddenly it jerked several times and a long stream of white cum flowed from the end. It didn't shoot out, just dribbled down in a long string. He still didn't touch his cock. Then another long string, then a third. We could hear him groaning. Then his hand came into view and he milked another three drops of cum. Altogether it was an impressive load.
"Holy shit!" I said. "How does he do that. He didn't even touch his cock!"
"All you need is to be sufficiently aroused. I imagine that being in front of the camera, knowing the whole world would eventually see him cum, aroused him sufficiently to trigger his orgasm. You know, I think I could do that. I love being watched when I cum, just like you, Son."
"And you know I'd like to watch," I said. "Go for it, Father."
He sat up, put the laptop to one side, then straddled my chest, his still hard cock directly above my mouth. "Give it a little suck, just to get me going." I lifted my head up, took hold of his dick, inserted it where it belonged and ran my tongue under his foreskin. "Where did you learn to do that?" he asked, his voice hoarse with lust. "My God! You're a wonderful cocksucker. You're a fucking expert!" It wasn't often that the earl used four letter words. "Okay, that's enough. I'm right on the edge." I laid my head back down and waited. A drop of precum fell from the end of his dick on to my cheek. I scooped it with my finger and sucked it. It was slightlly bitter but not unpleasant. Then his cock twitched and I knew it was going to happen. A few seconds later, another twitch and then, just as in the video, cum poured from the end of his dick. I opened my mouth as wide as I could and most of it went in. There was a short pause, his dick pulse again and another stream of fell on to my tongue, then a third. Then he took his cock in his hand and vigourously pumped the last few drops out, then rolled off me and collapsed beside me.
"Fuck me!" he said. "That was awesome. Having you staring at my dick from inches away got me so turned on. I couldn't have done that alone. Thank you, Son."
"I should thank you, Father," I mumbled through the cum in my mouth. It was completely full. I'd never had the prividledge to have a load this big before. He looked over at me as I swallowed and swirled my tongue round my mouth to get all of it. We lay there, not speaking, father and son, bonded as never before.
After a few minutes, he looked down at my still stiff cock sticking up out the the fly of my boxers. "Start with your finger," he said. I assumed we'd returned to the subject of stretching my arse. "Then maybe a carrot. Carrots are good because they're tapered. You can push it in until it starts to hurt, then stop. Keep practicing until you can push the butt plug in there with no pain and remember to use lots of lube. Banes will give you some. If you prepare properly, your first fuck should be a painless and enjoyable experience and if you're like me you'll grow to love being fucked." I was definitely like him.
"I was on the landing earlier, and Thomas remarked that he'd like to fuck my arse."
"Thomas is getting a bit above his station, though he does have his attractions. He's what I like to call 'a bit of rough'. He's buggered me a few times, quite savagely. If he could tone it down a bit, he might be quite suitable to break you in, as it were." I thought about it, about what it would feel like to be shagged up the arse, sexually molested, assaulted by a rough lout like Thomas, what it would feel like with his cock inside me while he verbally abused me, and the thought made me realise that I had to have a wank, right at that moment. It wouldn't have done for me to wank in front of my father just after he'd cum in such a spectacular fashion, so I thanked him for his jism and hurried back to my own room. Minutes later, I dropped my silk boxers, thoroughly soaked in my cum, into the laundry hamper in my bathroom. Perhaps Banes would like to wear them, though they might be a bit small.
In the autumn term at Upton Grammar, we played rugby. Unlike cricket which is mindlessly boring or field and track which is too much like hard work, I enjoyed rugby, not for the joy of competition but because, in the scrum, I would be crouched with my head between the bums of two other boys, my hands on their hips, with a couple of other boys pushing me from behind, all of which allowed for the occasional grope. The smell of fresh sweat from horny boys was intoxicating.
One afternoon, after rugby, instead of enjoying the thrill of undressing and showering with my team, comparing cock sizes, peeing on each other and admiring each other's underwear, I decided to cycle straight home. The phys-ed teacher, seeing me leave, looked disappointed. My father had mentioned something about a photo shoot at the Abbey which I didn't want to miss. When I arrived, still muddy and sweaty from my game, instead of a camera crew, I found only a single female reporter and her photographer, a young man with nice blue eyes, taking pictures of the ballroom, library and staircase. Carston told me that they were merely doing an article for a town-and-country style magazine. Disappointed in not being interviewed for television, I went upstairs to take a shower. As I stepped out of the shower stall, now nice and pink and clean, I heard my father vloice saying, "This is my son's bedroom." I came out of my bathroom, a towel wrapped round my head but otherwise entirely naked. My father was showing the photographer the antique furniture. "This is my son, Richard." He held out his hand and I shook it. My father had no problem showing off his stark naked son to a stranger, in fact I'm sure he revelled in it.
"Where's your lady friend?" I asked, not wishing to be seen in the nude by a woman, although showing off in front of a guy was never a problem.
"She left," my father said. "I've invited this gentleman to dinner. Branston can drive him to the station afterwards."
At that moment, Carston stuck his head in the door. "Telephone, my Lord."
"I'll take it in the library," said my father, and exited.
The photographer looked at me as I stood there, towel in hand, not bothering to cover myself up. He had that look of hunger that I know so well. "Come and see the view," I said, turning to the window. I sensed the flash going off and looked back over my shoulder, smiling. "Did you take a picture of my bum?"
"I did. Come and see." He showed me the picture on the display screen and I have to confess, back lit by the sunlight coming in the window, I looked as though I was surrounded by a halo of light, like a little angel. "Nice bum," he said, standing close behind me as we looked out of the window, his hand on my bum, his loins pressed against my hip so I could feel his hard-on, then his other hand went round my waist, fingering my belly button then sliding down to tickle my pubic hair and finally taking hold of my cock. I stepped away from him and spun round, proud to show him my naked body.
"A lot of people like my bum. Take some more pictures of me, if you like." Here was a heaven sent opportunity for me to show off, not just to him but to whomever would get to see his pictures. He clicked away as I posed lewdly. My cock was rigid. He moved in for some close ups of my dick. "Are you going to publish these in your magazine?"
He laughed. "No, they'd lock me up. I just want to keep them for my personal use. How about you lie down on the bed? Yes like that, okay, now open your legs." All the while his camera was flashing away. "Perfect, now roll on to your face and push your bum up in the air. Now, lie back again, hands behind your head. One more, that's it. You've got a nice little hard-on there." Not so little, I thought, my cock is now almost full sized.
I jumped off the bed. "I have something you're gonna like," I said, opening my underwear drawer, taking out a pair of silk boxers and holding them up so he could see the coat of arms.
"Priceless!" he said. "Put them on and let me take a few more shots." I pulled them up over my rigid cock and stood sideways to make my erection more obvious. Then I turned my back to him and pulled them down below my buttocks, bending forward invitingly. Then I faced him and pulled my dick from the fly as he knelt down for another close up.
"Are you going to show these pictures to your friends?" I asked.
"A select few, if you don't mind."
"Not at all, in fact you can put them on the internet as long as I can remain anonymous. I'd love to have the world see me like this." I lay down again on my bed, my legs hanging over the end, took my dick out of my underpants and began to seriously wank. His camera was firing away as fast as he could click it. "Here we go!" I called as I felt my orgasm building. I lifted my hips and I shot my load all over my chest, one blob landing on my chin. I smiled at him as I licked my lower lip and my hand. "Did you get that?"
"The perfect cum-shot," he said, showing me the screen. He'd caught the exact moment when an arc of cum was leaving my dick, arching towards my waiting mouth. This picture was going to get a lot of attention on the internet, assuming he could manage it without being arrested. I supposed a picture of a thirteen year old boy cumming on himself amounted to child pornography, but then I like the idea of myself as a porn-star. I pulled my underpants off, wiped my chest with them and gave them to him "To remember me by," I said.
When I did finally see his pictures of me on the internet, I could see from the eager smile on my face that the world would know how much I had thoroughly enjoyed myself.
Peter Handcock and I decided to go sailing. It was a Sunday afternoon and most of the servants were enjoying their day off. We walked down to the lake, where a sailing dinghy was tied up to the jetty. We were wearing short and singlets, our feet bare. Sitting beside the boat we found Thomas, dressed in a T shirt and brown corduroy trousers with sneakers on his feet. It would have been impolite not to invite him, so we all climbed into the boat, rigged the mast, hoisted the sail and headed out, myself at the helm. We decided to tack down the long lake, against the wind, to the small island at the far end. Peter and Thomas sat one on each side of the boat, and I kept switching sides every time we tacked. My shorts were not much longer than the boxers I was wearing underneath, so I sat with my legs apart, knowing that my friends would be able to see my cock up the leg. Peter also spread his legs invitingly. All this did not go unnoticed by Thomas, who eyed us lewdly. As we approached the island, I said to Thomas, "You'd better take your sneakers off and roll your pants up or you'll get wet when we land."
He pulled his footwear off and said, "Might as well take my pants off altogether." Now he looked even more attractive in his white trunks. The boat grounded at the island and we stepped over the side and pulled it up on to dry land and I picked up the blanket, the sun tan oil and a package of sandwiches I had brought. We found a grassy clearing in the trees and spread the blanket, Peter and I took our shorts and singlets off, and we all sat down. As always, when I undress in the presence of other males, I was getting a hard-on. The sexual tension mounted as we all looked at each other, a young man of twenty or so, and two boys, thirteen and fourteen, all in their underpants, all eager to arouse each other and be aroused, as evidenced by the erections scarcely hidden under cotton and silk.
"Doesn't he look fuckin' gorgeous, Peter," said Thomas. "I could really fuck him." Perhaps this was the moment I had been practicing for, pushing butt plugs and vibrators up my arse, until it no longer hurt. I knew I was ready and a man like Thomas, crude though he was, could be the perfect aggressor to my submissive body. He lay back, lifted his hips and slid his trunks down over his legs and took them off,then removed his T shirt. I'd never seen him totally naked before, and my pulse began to quicken. His cock was larger than average, bigger than my fathers, or Banes'. I decided to draw the game out.
"Would you like to fuck me, too?" I asked Peter. "Take your briefs off and let me see your dick." He obliged, showing his cock, beautifully proportioned, though not as big as Thomas's. "Which of you get's to take my virginity?" Peter looked a little dubious as I imagine he'd never fucked a bloke before, but Thomas was raring to go. "I've decided. I shall suck Peter's cock while Thomas fucks me, doggy style." Peter looked relieved. I stood and tantalisingly lowered my underpants then let them fall and displayed my naked body for them. Thomas was licking his lips. I picked up the sun tan oil and gave it to him. "Put some of that on your cock," I said, kneeling down with my arse presented to him, like a young chimpanzee offering himself to the alpha male. Peter knelt in front of me and I took his cock, so familiar to me, into my mouth. I felt Thomas place his hands on my hips, the tip of his cock touching my hole. I bore down, as though I was taking a shit, opening my rectum for him. This was the moment I had been waiting for and thinking about since the talk I'd had with my father, the moment that I'd discover that a dick was immensely more exciting than a dildo. He thrust it in. I had prepared myself well. It didn't hurt a bit as the head of his cock pushed past my sphincter. Then the paused and with two more lunges, pushed it all the way home. Having one cock up my arse and one in my mouth was heaven. This was about as depraved as I could get. I was being ravished by two lowly servants. They could do whatever they wanted with me. Thomas was pumping away, his hips slamming against my buttocks with a slapping noise, grunting and groaning and best of all, verbally abusing me.
"You fuckin' slut!" he was saying. "You little faggot! You're a whore, you queer little shit. You love my big hard cock up your arse, don't you." I took my mouth off Peter's cock for long enough to say, "I do! I love it! Fuck me harder, you brute!" He was shoving his dick into me as hard and as fast as he could.
"The heir to the Earl of Upton!" he sneered contemptously, "The Earl of up-arse, more like. You fuckin' posh cocksucker, you love being fucked." I pushed my bum back against him, bearing down to open my sphincter as much as I could so he could fuck me deeper, but he was already all the way in. The feeling of being filled by his cock was making my heart pound and I could feel my stiff dick swaying underneath me. I thought about asking Peter to crawl under me so we could sixty nine, but if he put my cock in his mouth, I'd cum right away and I wanted to continue to enjoy Thomas's nice big cock up my arse. Of all the thrills of my young life, nothing was quite so intoxication as being fucked. I was almost swooning with ecstacy as his cock seemed to fill my entire body. I surrendered to his domination with total willingness, loving the humiliation, and at that moment, I knew that I would spend the rest of my life wanting men like Thomas, men from any station in life, to satisfy their lust with me.
Then Peter started groaning. "Oh, Jesus, I'm gonna cum," and I felt the head of his dick swell up, then pulse as he filled my mouth with cum. As always, the thrill of having a man spend in my mouth was bringing me close to orgasm and at the same time, Thomas's thrusts grew even harder and faster. With a loud cry and one final brutal lunge, I felt him come inside me and this send me over the top, sending long ropes of jism pumping from the end of my cock, as it hung below me, untouched by hand or mouth. After two or three more thrusts, Thomas pulled his cock out of me and I released Peter's cock from between my lips.
We all collapsed on the blanket, the wet spot under my bum. I was supremely happy. Thomas took a napkin from the package of sandwiches and wiped his cock. "Let's eat," he said, "then we can go for a swim. After that . . ?" He looked at me enquiringly.
"Who knows?" I said with a smile.
A couple of years went by, hot lazy summers, with long hours spent lying in the hayfields, listening to the buzz of insects as various staff members and I stroked and sucked each other’s cocks. The winters were not so good, many outdoor venues being unsuitable, but I could often be found hiding in the school basement behind a big iron boiler, the warmth contrasting with the coolness of a hand on my dick, or in the back row of the local cinema, using the cover of darkness to fondle a friend's cock. By now, Thomas was not the only man fucking me. The choirmaster at Upton's church, even though I declined his invitation to sing, showed me the view from the bell tower, then pulled my pants and underpants down, bent me over the parapet and gave me a royal buggering in full view of several villagers, although they couldn't actually see us below the waist. A local farmer taught me to drive his tractor as I sat in his lap, his rock hard cock vibrating against my bum in time with the engine. When the fields were mowed and the hay piled into stacks, they made good places to hide while I learned how good it felt to have a tongue up my arse, or better yet, to tongue another man, my head buried between his thighs. These men always remarked how nice and clean my bum tasted and I told them that every morning in the shower, I'd finger-fuck myself with a well soaped finger, not just for a few thrusts, but for a couple of minutes because it felt so nice. The smell of decaying hay is very like the smell of stale cum, and ever since, whenever that particular odour assails me, I get a hard on.
I was now fifteen years old, no longer a cute little boy, more of a young man with a dick I could be proud of, and happily, other men’s interest in me did not diminish, as can happen to pubescent boys. I was so popular at school that I could select my sex partners from among many eager contenders, not least among them, the school’s phys. ed. coach. An ex-marine of althletic build, he liked to shower with the boys, showing off his oversized cock. I would linger after the other boys had left, standing in the shower while he peed on me, then let me suck him off until he was stiff enough to push his cock, slick with soap, up my eager bum. It was a bit of a risk, being fucked in such a public space, but I doubted that anyone would report if if we were discovered. More likely they would want to join in. And my music teacher liked to run his hand up the inside of my thigh as I stood beside him at the piano. He would play chord progressions with one hand, fondling my cock with the other until I’d cum in my pants, much to the delight of Banes, who liked to sniff the still-wet underpants that he fished out of the hamper after I got home. My housemaster would single me out at every opportunity to discipline me in his study, but once the door was closed, he'd hand me a cane, bare his buttocks and bend over a chair and I'd swipe the cane theatrically in the air, making a frightening swishing noise, and give him six of the best as he abjectly apologised for an imaginary transgression.
At about seven o’clock one evening, I was downstairs in the kitchen looking for something to eat. We didn’t dine until eight and I was getting hungry. Patchmore the cook was snapping the thick ends off asparagus spears and dropping the tips into a pot of boiling water. He was too preoccupied to see me. I slipped into the pantry, thinking a chunk of cheese would hold me until dinner. I saw a figure partly concealed behind some shelving and when I looked closer I saw it was Carston, his back to me, his elbow moving rythmically.
“What’s going on, Carston?”
He turned towards me and I could see that he was masturbating, with a silver sauce boat angled in front of his dick ready to catch his emissions.
“His Lordship asked me to cum in the hollandaise sauce,” he said, to my astonishment. “The bishop has been invited to dinner and your father thought it would be amusing to play a trick on him.” The bishop, a fat, ugly man, was in the habit of inviting himself for dinner a couple of times each year in the hope of hitting my father up for a donation to the Catholic church. He was never successful. “I was going to warn you to avoid the hollandaise, Master Richard.”
“No need, Carston, I’m sure your cum is quite delicious.”
“Thank you. His Lordship would agree.” Carston had been the butler at Upton from as far back as my grandfather’s day and was now getting quite old. Most of our staff were laid off with generous severance pay when they passed the age that pleased my father, but his butler was too valuable to let go. “I’m afraid I’ve lost my erection. I’ll have to start over.”
“You need a helping hand. Allow me.” I reached out and quickly got him hard again, wanking his cock vigourously and very soon he fired several generous spurts of cum into the sauce boat, not a bad load for a man of his age. “Thank you, Master Richard, that was a great help.” He stirred it with a silver spoon. I put a finger in it and licked it.
“How does it taste?” he asked. "Your father, a good judge of fine cum, would say it was quite refreshing, though a little pretentious, with a hint of autumnal decadence.” This was the nearest Carston would ever come to actual humour. I rolled it round my mouth.
“I’d agree with my father. Does Patchmore know about this?”
“Oh, no, he’d be mortified, although he does like to pee in his beer. He says it improves the flavour.” I quite forgot about the cheese and left to change for dinner. The days when full evening dress was worn for dinner were decades past, but when we had guests, I was required to wear a tie and jacket. I sat in the dining room with my father waiting for the bishop to arrive. He was always late. Carson stood behind my father, a napkin over his arm. We were just about to begin without him when the door opened and Carston announced, “His Grace, the Bishop.” We stood as he entered.
“Good evening, Bishop,” said my father. "A dry sherry?"
“Good evening, Upton, I believe I will.” he replied and Carston held our chairs as we sat down and exchanged a few polite pleasantries. The butler than served us soup from a tureen and left to bring the main course.
“My gamekeeper managed to bag a brace of pheasant yesterday, which my cook has roasted. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
“I’m sure I shall,” said the bishop, slurping his soup. He turned to me.
“And what will you be when you grow up?” he asked, patronisingly.
“Gay!” my father interjected.
“I’m not amused, Upton.”
“I wasn’t joking, your Grace.”
“You can’t be in favour of homosexuality. It’s against the teaching of the church.” At that moment Carston returned with a large tray on which stood dishes of vegetables and pheasant, already carved. He proceeded to serve us.
“What?” said my father. “You can’t be serious. When I was my son’s age I’d already been buggered half a dozen times by the local vicar. His teaching was extensive and I learned a lot from him. You can hardly say he was against homosexuality. He was an advocate, at least to me.”
“Your vicar is Anglican. The Catholic diocese cannot be responsible if the Church of England’s clergy molest their congregations.”
“He didn’t molest me, bishop. I invited him.” His Grace looked shocked. Carston placed dinner plates before us and served slices of pheasant, roasted potatoes, peas and asparagus.
“Hollandaise sauce, your Grace?”
“Yes please, Carston. A little more I think. Thank you.” I was having a hard time keeping a straight face. The bishop tasted a slice of meat. “Quite delicious.” Then we watched, fascinated, as he speared a couple of asparagus tips with his fork, brought them to his mouth and popped them in.
“How is the sauce?” asked my father.
“Perfect. You must give me the recipe.”
“I’ll have the cook email it to you. Leave the sauce boat on the table, Carston, so his Grace can help himself to more if he wishes.” Carston bowed out, a faint smile on his face.
"A Urologist," I said. "You were asking what I wanted to be when I grew up. A urologist."
"And why is that?"
"It's a part of the male anatomy I like to focus on." My father smiled. "I could specialize in erectile disfunction and perhaps discover new ways to overcome it." The bishop was unsure how to react, suspecting that I might be joking and there was a moment of silence as he took another forkful of sauce-laden asparagus.
“Tell me, bishop," said my father, "why is it that we never seem to hear of choirgirls being molested?”
“Most choirs are made up of boys, because of their sweet, unbroken voices.”
“And their sweet . . .” My father muttered something inaudible, popped a potato in his mouth, then added, “Given your church’s record of behaviour towards young boys, you’re hardly in a position to preach against homosexuality. You forbid priests to marry, provide them with a ready supply of darling little boys, then expect them to behave themselves and preach against gay sex. Whom are you kidding?” My father's English grammar was always faultless.
The bishop wisely changed the subject, mopping up the last of he hollandaise with a piece of bread. He finished his meal as quickly as was decent, declined the dessert, made his excuses and left.
“What a pomous ass!” said my father. “You didn’t have much to say for yourself.”
“Not to that condescending prick. Anyway, I was too busy enjoying the hollandaise."
"Quite so. Let's have a glass of port before we retire."
Later, my father and I mounted the stairs and walked to his bedroom and paused outside the door. "Do you know what the date is?" he asked me.
I thought for a moment, then exclaimed, "My gosh! I'd forgotten that tomorrow's my birthday."
"At midnight, you'll be sixteen, the age of consent, and to celebrate, I'd like it very much if you would sleep in my bed tonight. By the way, did you know that in the nineteenth century, the age of consent was ten? But not for homosexual acts. We were illegal back then. We would both have been hanged for what we consider is perfectly normal behaviour."
"I'd be delighted." We went into his bedroom where Banes was laying out Father's clothes for the morning.
"Banes, would you bring a dressing gown for my son? Thank you." Banes departed on his errand and my father and I started to undress each other. He was still a young man, in his thirties, quite slender and well muscled, and being allowed to undress him was getting me excited. When we stood admiring each other in our silk boxers, cocks erect, I felt proud to be his son. Banes came in with my robe, gave us a lustful look, bade us goodnight and left. He'd have to wank his own dick tonight. Father and I pulled each others underpants down, a thing we both love to do, went into his bathroom and got into the shower. Before he turned the water on, he knelt in front of me and asked me to pee on his face. He opened his mouth and swallowed some of it, with obvious relish.
"What's it taste like?" I asked him.
"Not bad. Better if you'd drunk a lot of acidic stuff, like coke or fruit juice, to cut the alkalinity, it would have been sweeter. That's why I won't ask you to drink mine. You can do that another time when it'll taste milder. For the moments, just let me pee on your cock." His hot piss splashing on to my dick was a novel and exciting experience, a whole new world of perversion to explore. Then, feeling my father's hands on my body as he soaped me all over was delicious, but not as nice as the thrill of spreading suds all over him, finishing up with his bum and hard cock, which I washed vigourously. "Push a soapy finger in me, son," he said, doing the same to me. It felt like a prelude to a great buggery session and we finger-fucked each other for several long minutes. Then we toweled off and came back into the bedroom and stood in front of his dressing mirror and admired ourselves. "Look at us," he said. "Two hot gay guys with big hard dicks. Yours is fully grown, now, just a big as mine."
"Is it as beautiful?"
"It is, and as tasty, I imagine." He pushed me back on to the bed and fell on top of me, his head towards my feet and in an instant we had each other's cocks in our mouths, slurping away, each trying to outdo the other with our cocksucking skills. After a while I was unable to resist the urge to slide lower down and put my head between his legs and lick his arsehole. I pushed my tongue in as far as it would go and I shivered as I felt him do the same to me. His clean body left no taste, but I wondered what it would be like to rim him just after he'd been horse riding, for example, allowing the heady aroma of his sweat to overwhelm me. The thought almost made me cum, and sensing it, he rolled off me and lay on his back, getting his breath back, his dick pointing at the ceiling, bobbing gently in time with his pulse. Sucking a dick involves breathing through one's nose, and is often described as a 'breathless' experience.
"I know you're being buggered on a regular basis," he said, "Young Thomas, that uncouth lout, tells me all about it. It's part of his humiliation routine, describing us both you as a cocksucking sluts, which I happen to enjoy, so I'm up to speed. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all, father, I have no secrets from you."
"So I take it you've never actuall fucked anyone."
"Not yet. I've always been on the receiving end."
"Then tonight, I insist that you fuck me. I want that gorgeous cock of yours as far as it will go up my arse. You're going to like it, I know."
"As you wish, father."
"Just lie there on your back and let me do all the work." He took a tube of lube from the bedside table and spread it all over my dick, then straddled me. "Ready?" I nodded and he took hold of my dick, placed the tip against his hole, then let his full weight fall on me. I felt my foreskin roll back as my cock went all the way into him, right up to the hilt, and he let out a huge sigh of satisfaction. I had never felt anything like it, my whole dick encased in warm flesh, infinitely better than when, in the scullery, it had been wrapped in raw liver. This was my father's warm, living body, and I was giving pleasure equal to or better than my own, penetrating his bowels, and thrusting my hips up. He threw his head back, his eyes closed as I tweaked his nipples. They became instantly hard. "Oh, fuck me, fuck me, son!" he groaned hoarsely. "Ram your dick up my arse! Oh, I love it, I love it! Cum inside me, you darling boy!" His body was bouncing up and down, my dick almost coming free, then plunging back into him. "I'm a fucking slut, Richard! I'm a dirty whore, so just keep fucking me as hard as you can. God, I love your cock. I love you!" I could feel my orgasm just seconds away, so I took hold of his dick, pointed it at my face and started to wank him. My timing was perfect. Just as I felt my own cum rushing along the length of my dick and into his arse, the end of his cock swelled and he shot his load, the first spurt landing on my nose and cheek, the the second and third into my open, waiting mouth. The fourth and fifth landed on my chest and the last few drops dribbled on to my hand. It was an enormous volume of cum, more than I'd ever seen before. As all this was happening, my own cum was filling him up and he continued to lift up and down, squeezing his arse on the upstroke to milk me, then relaxing on the down stroke, until I was empty.
"Stop," I said. "I'm spent." He collapsed on top of me and I lay there, bearing his weight, supremely happy that once again I'd made my father cum. Finally, he rolled off me and lay on his back, panting.
"Thank you, son, that was about the best fuck I've ever had. Thomas is going to have to get in line from now on. That was your last illegal act. From now on, you can suck and fuck anyone who's willing, any time, and the State will allow it. Indeed, they'll applaud it. The whole world is going to love you."
"It's you I should thank, for teaching me about life, the unorthodox things I might otherwise have missed."
"My arse feels so good, skillfully served. How are you feeling? Ready for sleep?"
"I'm not sleepy, father."
"Let's take a walk before the evening gets too chilly." We pulled on our underpants, robes and slippers and went down the grand staircase, through the main hall, the portraits of his ancestors looking down at us, and out of the imposing front door of Upton Abbey. We walked a little way out on the great tree-lined lawn which stretched all the way down to the lake, with its island where I had so thrillingly lost my virginity. We turned and looked back at the house, silhouetted against the faint glow still in the Western sky. I suddenly realised how deeply I loved my father, flawed though he was. I was happy, happier than I'd ever been, feeling that life was wonderful and knowing that many exciting adventures were waiting for me. He put his arm round my shoulder, and I knew that he was happy too.
He had achieved his ambition. I had grown up to be utterly, irretrievably . . . . .gay!
The End.
For the rest of my stories, email me at tonywill9999@yahoo.com. All emails will be answered.