Harry and Me

by c m

At first sight, most people think we're twins. I guess we do look pretty much alike with the blond hair and green eyes – but we're not. What we are is best friends. I've pretty much grown up with Harry; his Mum and mine met at ante-natal classes and it turned out that they only lived about five minutes away from us. And we were born on the same day – so maybe it's natural for people to assume we're twins. We've always gone to the same schools – and Harry and I always get invited on each other's family summer holiday, which is very cool as it means that we get to have four weeks each of sun and sand rather than just the two weeks that our individual families take.

And we have sleepovers too. And we've always shared a bath when he stays the night. Have done since the age of about four, so there's not much I don't know about Harry. Or that he doesn't know about me. Last time he stayed over, and now that we're just shy of thirteen, Mum asked if we were still comfortable bathing together. Harry just looked at me and smiled. I smiled right back.

"Sure, Mum – there's nothing we've got that the other hasn't seen a hundred times before."

"OK, Tim, just thought I'd ask."

Tim. Yup, that's me. Tim Meredith, or to be precise, Timothy Nathan Wakefield Meredith as it says on my birth certificate. I know, I know, 'Wakefield' – apparently it's a family name. Harry thinks it's hilarious – but I think he's just jealous that I have two middle names to his one. Henry James Young – but everyone calls him Harry. And how boring is 'James' as a middle name?

And as for us not having anything the other hasn't seen before, that's definitely true. And nothing that we haven't touched either. Harry and I have been messing about together for a couple of years now. Just curiosity at first – you know how it is. We're pretty identical down there too – although Harry started to hit puberty a few months before me. I was so jealous at the time as his cock got bigger and darker and his balls started to swell – and he acquired a few wisps of hair in his groin while I was still hairless…and I looked like a small pencil when I was hard.

Not that Harry made fun of me. "You'll soon catch up, Tim," was all he said.

And I have. We are now both the proud possessors of five inch stiffies when we're hard – and Harry says we'll get bigger. And we've discovered the joys of ejaculation when we masturbate each other instead of the sort of slightly fizzy sensation which was all we got until about a year ago.

We don't kiss or anything – we're not boyfriends – though we are entirely uninhibited about exploring sex stuff with each other. But more of that later.

I should also tell you that I have a sister – and so does Harry. Another way in which we're similar. They are both older than us and although they know each other, they're not really friends – I mean, they don't dislike each other but they are just…different. Ruth – that's my sister – is OK I suppose, but Harry's sister Chloe is really nice. She's seventeen and blonde like Harry…and very pretty. She's also fun. When Harry is on holiday with my family, Ruth pretty much just ignores him, but when I'm with Harry's family, Chloe is really nice to me. She even joins in when we play French cricket on the beach.

And talking of cricket, that's another thing Harry and I have in common. We both love cricket and we both play for the school team. Harry's mainly a batsman and I'm mainly a bowler – which is good because it means that we are both happy just to do our thing at practice; he's in no hurry to bowl and I'm in no hurry to bat. Not that we don't both take our turn at both, but it's not like a lot of the other boys who only seem to want to bat.

Harry's Dad plays cricket too. He plays for the local village cricket team. He's a batsman like Harry – and a good one. We sometimes go down to watch on a Sunday afternoon and I usually end up bowling in the nets to some of the other guys on the team. It's great when I get them out – although they don't seem to enjoy being dismissed by a (nearly) thirteen-year old. One of the team's opening bowlers, Paul – who's eighteen – often comes over and gives me some coaching if I'm down there. I like Paul and he's always friendly as well as being a good cricketer. He reckons that in a year or so I'll be playing alongside him – and maybe get invited onto the annual tour too, which sounds like fun.


As I said, Harry and I are at the same school – a private Prep school where we're both boarders. We're both hoping to go on to the same Public school, and we are doing the entrance exam at the end of next term – except that Harry is in the scholarship form whereas I'm doing ordinary Common Entrance. It's sickening really – Harry being so clever as well as being a good sportsman, and, I have to admit being pretty good-looking too. Not that I fancy him or anything.

It's annoying that we have to do exams at the end of the summer term, because it's the cricket term too, but I'm looking forward to going to my next school. I just hope that Harry and I both make it there.

Oh yes, and there's one other thing we both enjoy. We like drama – acting. We've both been in the school play for the last two years – I got to play the lead last time and Harry had to play the part of a girl – which was hilarious. We called him 'Henrietta' for weeks afterwards until he started getting a bit grumpy about it. The best bit was watching Harry put on his make-up for the play; well, actually, he didn't put it on, Mrs. Smith, the wife of our drama teacher did it for him. It was a bit odd in some ways because by the time he had his blue eye-shadow and bright red lipstick on, he didn't really look like Harry at all - but I suppose that's the point.

Anyway, school starts again in a week's time, so Harry and I are trying to make the most of the time we have left before term starts to fool around with each other as often as possible - doing it at school is too risky, we nearly got caught last term – and I've been invited round to his place for a sleepover tonight which means we're off to a good start.

Six weeks later

So here I am, three weeks away from my exams, and you know what? I feel OK. Weird but true. It's been a good term so far; we've won all six cricket matches we've played; all the teachers seem to think that I'll have no problem with CE; the weather's been lovely and Harry and I have even managed the occasional…get together. Only a wank but that's better than nothing – even though what we really both want to do is to suck each other. Did I mention that we do that? Maybe I didn't, anyway, we do. I remember the first time Harry suggested it about six months ago – I wasn't sure I wanted to have his dick in my mouth, but I was curious and he did offer to do it to me first. And when he did, oh wow…I mean, why should it be SO much better than a hand? But it was, and of course I had no hesitation in doing it back to him. Like I said, we have no problem in exploring this sort of thing with each other.

We both had our thirteenth birthdays last week. It sucks having your birthday at school, but at least there's the two of us – and the school did produce a chocolate birthday cake at tea-time which was nice.

Right now I'm sitting in the changing rooms getting ready for a match against our big local rivals. Harry is sitting on the bench opposite me, tying his shoe laces. He got a fifty in the last game – and he's desperate to make a hundred before the end of term. I feel a bit awkward about that; I mean, I'd love for him to do it, but my one aim in life is to bowl the opposition out for less than a hundred in total. The only answer is for us to bat first and for Harry to get his ton – if he does it the school will give him a new bat – and then for me to bowl the bastards out for less than a hundred anyway. Seems a bit unfair when you think about it; even if I took all ten wickets (which is much less likely than scoring a hundred) I don't think I get given anything. I look up and see that Harry is ready.

"Come on, Harry, let's go give them hell."

And we do. Harry gets his hundred - and a new bat. I take six wickets – and get a mention at Assembly the next day. It's definitely a batsman's world.

Another six weeks later

Term's over. Exams are done. Results are through. I've got my place and Harry is, officially, a scholar. We'll both be at the same Public school. We celebrated by sucking each other off at the same time – it was the first time we'd tried that and it felt great.

Anyway, the good news is that I've been invited (as usual) to go on holiday with him and this year his family is taking a gite in the south of France. We leave in three days' time and I've been busy (with Mum's help) packing a bag. T-shirts, shorts, swimmers, sun-cream ('Promise me you'll wear it – I don't want you burning') and a jumper ('The evenings can get quite chilly') seem to form the bulk of it. We're catching a flight to Nice followed by about an hour's drive, apparently. I can't wait.

I like flying. Well, the actual flying bit. I'm not so keen on the whole checking in and waiting at the airport bit beforehand – but when the day came Harry and I played games against each other on our iPads so the time seemed to pass quite quickly. We both wanted a window seat, but Harry's Dad told him that it would be polite to let his guest have the choice. Harry just raised an eyebrow, but once on the plane, as we approached the row with our seats in it, he bowed deeply to me and said,

"I've reserved the window seat for you, sir."

I replied, "Thank you my good man, have twenty pence for your trouble."

It was very funny, and we both laughed – as did a couple of the other passengers who overheard.

When they brought the refreshment trolley down the aisle, Harry and I both had a Coke – and the steward slipped us each an extra bag of peanuts with a little wink.

It was a lovely day, and you could see all the fields and rivers passing below us as we flew overhead. After an hour I swapped places with Harry so that he could see out of the window. We landed at Nice on time, and when we got to the car rental place there was a silver-coloured Renault waiting for us. The journey to the gite took us through some lovely countryside, and we were all grateful for the air-conditioning in the car as the temperature gauge said it was 26 degrees outside.

The gite itself was in the grounds of a rather grand farmhouse. The owners - Monsieur and Madame Ferrancourt - met us and showed us round. They seemed very nice, and had put a basket of local groceries in the kitchen ready for us. I was really pleased to find that the gite had its own pool too - and Harry and I wasted no time in going to unpack to find our swimming costumes.

As Harry unpacked his case, he came across a bag that he didn't recognise. He unzipped it and saw that it was full of make-up.

"Oh no, I think Mum's packed Chloe's make-up bag instead of my wash bag," he said, and hurried off to find his mother.

I was pulling my swimmers up when they both came back into the room.

"Oh sorry, Tim, didn't mean to intrude", said his Mum.

"That's OK, we just thought we'd go swimming – if that's OK?"."

"That's an excellent idea, Tim. Now, did I really pack the wrong bag?" She rummaged around and then shook her head. "Well, it looks as though that's exactly what I've done." She turned to Harry, "I'm so sorry, love, we'll get you some replacement things in the village tomorrow. Perhaps you can share some of Tim's stuff in the meantime?" She looked at me.

"Of course, Mrs. Young, that's fine. I've got lots of everything – and I think I might even have a spare toothbrush. Dad gave me one of those little collapsible ones from the last time he flew back from America."

"That would be wonderful. And sorry again, Harry."

"That's OK Mum – it's just nice to be here. And at least you didn't forget my swimmers."

His mother left and headed back to the kitchen, and Harry stripped off and wriggled into his trunks. We each grabbed a towel and then ran downstairs and out through the patio doors. The pool looked cool and inviting, and we dived straight in. We both surfaced beside one another, shaking the water from our hair and eyes. The water was pleasantly refreshing and we splashed around, ducking each other and generally having fun. We raced each other too; I beat Harry at freestyle but he beat me at breast-stroke. Once we'd burned off some energy we hauled ourselves out of the pool and lay on our towels on the scrubby grass that surrounded the pool to dry off - and about twenty minutes later Harry's Mum appeared with some lemonade for us both.

"Make sure you both put on plenty of suncream. You'll burn in no time in this heat."

I took the top off the bottle of sunscreen and rubbed some over my chest and arms and legs. Then I threw the tube to Harry.

"You'll have to do my back,." I turned over and felt the cool wetness as Harry squeezed a blob of cream onto my back and then started to rub it in. It felt nice. His hands were soft and gentle on my skin, and he took his time to rub it all in thoroughly. Once finished, he jabbed me on my bum:

"Your turn," he said. I returned the favour, enjoying the feel of his skin, all slippery under my hands. I found myself wondering what it would feel like to be rubbing cream into his cock, and I felt myself start to harden at the thought. I hastily put the idea from my mind before my arousal could become too obvious. And I wondered where that thought had come from…I mean, we were friends and sex buddies – but nothing more.


Dinner than night was chicken with vegetables that had come from the farm. It was delicious – and Mr. and Mrs. Young also let Harry and me have a glass of the local red wine as a treat. That and the swimming, and the sun, and the journey meant that were both pretty tired, and we headed for bed in good time. We showered and discovered that, despite the suncream, we had both gone a little pink – and that, in turn, had given us the makings of a white patch where our costumes had been. As we looked at the contrast between where we'd started to tan and where we'd been covered up, Harry turned to me;

"Have you ever sunbathed naked, Tim? It might be cool to have an all-over tan."

"No, never – I guess you'd have to put plenty of cream on your dangly bits. Getting those burned would be dead painful."

Harry giggled. "I guess so." He paused. "Ummm…you up for a bit of fun later?"

I nodded. "You bet. 'Up' will be the word," I grinned, "our first overseas session."

In the bedroom, we waited until we heard the sounds of his parents going to bed, and then Harry took off his briefs and lay on the bed. We always took it in turns to go first - and tonight it was his turn. He was already stiff by the time I took hold of him as I knelt between his legs. I eased back his foreskin exposing the moist, pink head and lowered my mouth onto it, letting my lips slide down the velvety hard shaft. Harry sighed. It didn't take long before he indicated that he was about to cum. I pulled off him and took hold of him with my hand instead. A couple of quick strokes later and the seed was spitting from the tip of his cock.

"Mmm…very good. Your turn."

I swapped places with him and Harry took me in his mouth. I was so ready I climaxed much sooner than I wanted to, and when I came some of it went over Harry's hand. I saw him look at it and then, to my surprise, tentatively lick at it with his tongue.

"Wow. What does it taste like? Is it OK?"

"Yeah…yeah actually it's fine. "

"You've never done that before…"

"No…I was just…curious." He blushed. "Well, actually, I tasted my own a few days ago for the first time and that was OK...and I wondered if you tasted the same."

"And do I?"

"No…not quite. A bit different. Why don't you try it?"

I looked at him and slowly brought my hand up to my mouth. I licked one of the blobs of cum on it. Harry was right – it tasted…OK. Sort of salty, but OK.

"You'll have to try mine next time."

"Humm…I'm not sure about that. But you're right. It's not as disgusting as I thought it'd be."

The next morning, Mr. Young went into the village and brought back bread and croissants for breakfast. They tasted so much better than the ones we got in England, and there were some fresh apricots from the farm as well - which were yummy. Once we'd finished, Mark's parents asked if we'd be OK on our own if they went off into town to pick up some supplies – including replacing the contents of Harry's missing washbag."

"We'll be fine, Mum," said Harry, "see you later."

Once they'd gone, Harry and I went upstairs and back to our bedroom to put on our swimmers. We both fancied spending most of the morning in the pool. Harry even suggested skinny-dipping and making a start on an all-over tan, but I was a bit worried that the owners of the farmhouse might see.

Harry opened the drawer of the chest with our stuff in and threw me my costume – and then took out his sister's make-up bag.

"What do you suppose she keeps in it?" he asked.

"Why don't we take a look," I suggested.

Harry smiled and tipped the contents out onto the bed. There was foundation, eyeliner, mascara, nail polish…and eyeshadow - in the same blue that Harry had worn for the play - and lipstick. He turned it upside down to read the label.

"Crimson blush," he announced.

"Why don't we try it on?" I suggested. "Let's see if we can get you looking like you did for the play!"

"Cool! Why not…we've got plenty of time before Mum and Dad are back…and I'm sure Chloe wouldn't mind. And there's make-up remover in here as well."

We were both giggling as we pulled the lid off the eye-shadow. There were some brushes in the bag as well.

"How did Mrs. Smith do it?" I asked.

"Well, sort of like this," said Harry. He took the brush, closed one eyelid, and painted some of the colour on top of it. "But you need to do it – I can't see what I'm doing with my eyes closed."

He gave me the brush and I took my time. When I'd finished, I have to say it looked pretty good. Better than in the play really – but maybe that was because when you have make-up on for a play, it's put on in bucket-loads because of the effect of the lighting, and I'd just put on a light covering. Harry looked at himself in the mirror.

"I like it! Now…what about some lipstick?" Harry twisted the base of the tube and then put the red creamy stick against his top lip. The first attempt was not a success, and I went down to the kitchen to get some paper towels. When we'd wiped it off, he tried again – and this time it looked much better. Then he did his bottom lip. The effect was…amazing. When he'd been made up for the play, he didn't look like Harry any more. This time, he looked…like Harry…but a Harry that made me tingle in a way that was completely unexpected.

"Come on, I'll do you now."

I closed one eye and felt the brush moving across my eyelid. Harry's face was inches from mine, the tip of his tongue poking pinkly out of his mouth between his lips. That's a habit of his when he concentrating on something. It's quite cute.

"Now the other one."

I closed the other eye and felt the same soft brushing.

"And now the lipstick."

I took a moment as he found the tube to look at myself in the mirror. I thought it looked pretty cool. And then Harry was moving the lipstick over my lips. Over his shoulder in the mirror, I could see my lips changing to a cherry red as he drew the waxy stick across them. And then he was done. He put the lipstick down and came and stood beside me, his face beside mine, an arm over my shoulder, and we looked at ourselves in the mirror. We truly could have been twins.

Harry turned towards me, his face almost touching mine.

And then he kissed me. Just once. Red lips to red lips. He pulled back, looking straight into my eyes.

"I don't know why putting on this make-up should have made me bold enough to do that…but I've wanted to for a long time, Tim. I hope you don't mind."

The kiss had turned the tingle I had felt when I saw Harry with the eye-shadow and lipstick on into a tremble that had started to make me shake.

"Are you OK, Tim…you're shaking."

By way of answer I pulled him to me and kissed him back, urgently. I flicked his lips with my tongue – and my slight disgust at the taste of the lipstick lasted only as long as it took for him to open his mouth and suck my tongue inside.

And then we were staggering back onto the bed, pulling off our clothes and landing naked on top of one another. As it happened, we landed head to toe – and Harry's cock was conveniently placed just inches from my mouth. I closed my lips round it – and felt Harry doing the same to me. This time when I came Harry just swallowed the lot. And when he came… well…what the heck…I did the same for him. When we came up for air, our faces were smudged with lipstick – and we both had bright red rings around our cocks. We noticed at the same time and Harry started laughing – which set me off.

I went and got the rest of the paper towels I'd brought up earlier, and we wiped the worst of it off. The we lay on the bed face to face.

"I've been wanting to tell you that I fancy the pants off you for nearly a year now, Tim. Guess I don't need to tell you that now. Do you suppose that makes me gay?"

"I don't know what it means for either of us, Harry, but I know that I love doing what we just did."

"So you'd be happy to…keep doing it?"

"Oh yes, Harry. Definitely."

He just smiled. "Looks like it's going to be a great holiday. Come on, let's go clean up properly before the rents get back."

We went and washed the make-up off our faces – and our cocks – and then put on our swimmers and headed for the pool. And that's where Mr. and Mrs. Young found us on their return.

"Have fun while we were away, boys?" asked Mrs. Young.

I looked at Harry and smiled. "Oh yes, Mrs. Young, we had a lot of fun."

Voting

This story is part of the 2017 story challenge "Inspired by a Picture: Crimson". The other stories may be found at the challenge home page. Please read them, too. The voting period of 22 July to 13 August 2017 is when the voting is open. This story may be rated, below, against a set of criteria, and may be rated against other stories on the challenge home page.

The challenge was to write a story inspired by this picture:

Crimson
Please rate Harry and Me with the impressions it left you with

Either while reading this story, or afterwards, I found it to be/had/made me (Tick all that apply)

Romantic
Erotic
Sweet
Gentle
Surprising
Realistic
Inspiring
An emotional read
Written with rhythm and pace
Thought provoking
Technically well written
Written with good use of grammar and syntax (this does not mean pedantic use)
Easy to read
It invited me in
I could not put it down
Uplifting
It felt like it was about me. I know it wasn't, but it felt like it
Not just prose, but almost a 'tone poem'
There could be spelling/grammar/punctuation improvements
Interpreted the picture well
Referred to the makeup the boys in the picture are wearing


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