The Observer

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 17

Fairlight Cove. I looked to my left, and saw another man walking in our direction. I didn't recognize him at first. As the figure approached, I realized who it was. It was David, the artist who painted the picture of the Mathew and James in the dunes. He must have been fifty yards away, but I turned over quickly so he wouldn't recognize me. I waited a couple of minutes before I dared look again. The boys are lying face down on large towels, eyes shut, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun. It is definitely David. I give him time to pass by and I look up to see him walking towards the rock, around which lies 'Elliot's Cove'. I watch as he disappears around the rock, where some five minutes earlier our thonged gentleman visitor had gone.

I remember the pain and the pleasure of it all, when David brought the finished painting to Watchbell Street, and to collect his fee for the work. We had touched as we admired the view from my bedroom window. He had kissed me on my cheek, and I had returned it, and liked it. There was fondling and the undoing of things. There was arousal and soft words spoken between us. Holding, we made for the bedroom. We undressed and lay on the bed. He asked me if I would like to try, and I had said I would. I had no idea what it would be like. Discomfort subsided into a new pleasure previously unknown to me. I have not seen him since.

Now I have a strange feeling in my stomach. I recognize it. It's a yearning……a desire for sex. I'm an observer of boys, but not a gay man. Gay sex isn't at the top of my agenda, but every so often it appeals to me. Right now it does. Seeing, and being close to the young male form has brought it, shamefully in these circumstances, to the surface.

The boys want to swim. It's a safe beach, and not guarded of course. Not here. I'm tempted to leave the boys on their own in the water, but I'm not going to do that. I imagine David has followed our gentleman in the thong, perhaps for a reason. Perhaps not.

The boys are in the water about a hundred yards away, and under strict instructions not to go out of their depth. Memories flood my brain and I'm sorely tempted to masturbate. They'll be gone for at least twenty minutes. That gives me plenty of time. It happens with me sometimes…..I just feel the urge to orgasm. I'm not having any regular sex. That's the problem. I think I could come in seconds with those recent images in my head. I hold myself, and the desire rises.

Something catches my eye to the right. It's a figure coming back around the rock from the cove. I recognize it as David returning to our part of the beach. This time I don't attempt to hide. My hand is hidden, and there's moisture already present. I watch the figure approach. He's seen me. There's a wave of a hand. I have no real idea how I will handle things. David stops just a few feet away from me. I look up……..

'Hi Otta. I thought you were ignoring me back there.'

'Sorry. How have you been? It's been a while has it not?'

'Yes. Was that the boy I painted…..the dark haired one?'

He gestures towards James and Elliot who are splashing each other a few yards into the water. The smell of drying seaweed momentarily distracts me. It's on the rock I'm leaning against.

'Yes. He's grown up a bit since then.'

I immediately regretted that observation.

'Yes, I had noticed. And?'

'And, nothing. He's just a kid……as you know.'

'True. What about you then? They seem busy down there. Are you up for a stroll for a while? By the way, I have noticed.'

I don't say anything. I don't think words are necessary. He can see the state I'm in, and I make no attempt to hide it. It's an invitation. I'm excited. I look around….no one. So…….why not? But I have a question…..

'So where does that lead to then?' I ask, pointing to the rocks.


'Round the corner…….the other side of that little headland over there?'

'You don't know?'


'It's a private place for like-minded folk to do things they need…….or want to do.'


'Yes….together…….or on your own if the mood takes you.'

'And have you?'

'Yes I have. I can't say it was amazingly fantastic, but it will do…….for now. Beggars can't be choosers sometimes.'

We both laughed. I can see his point.

'Do you mind if I do something for you? Old times sake and all that.'

'Do what?'

'You look like you've been thinking deep thoughts.'

'I have.'

'Do you want to go on thinking them?'

'I wouldn't mind.'

'Then I could be him …….whoever he is? I'll keep it simple.'

'And efficient?'

'Yes, that too. I'll try not to disappoint you.'

I'm not about to argue with him……and yes, please.

David kneels in the sand in front of me. I get the idea immediately. My knees are raised now, and he shuffles his body into position between my legs. Gently he lifts the waistband of my pants away from my tummy so my penis is exposed. With one hand, he holds the material tight under my balls. I am entirely ready for this.

The whole thing lasted…..I don't know……no more than five of minutes I suppose. He teased me to start with. He's clever with his hands, that boy, and the tips of his fingers. By the time he started in earnest, I was some way along the road. Blissful is the word…….and he is extraordinarily skilled. From the moment he started, I knew it would work, he's that good at it. I don't care for the guy….not really, but to know him this way is very very tempting. I can feel myself moving towards the threshold, but he knows that and holds off until……well…..until he thinks I deserve release from my torment. I have to say, he's good…..very good. I think I gave him something to ponder on, at least it felt like it…..and I did thank him. There was nothing left. We sit on the sand together, watching the boys in the water. I don't think they have noticed.

'So who is the other creature then…….blondie boy?'

'Never mind. He's a friend of James'.

'Lucky old James. Do you think he'd like his portrait painted?'


'Ok. Do you want me to disappear? They're on their way back.'

I've managed about ten pages of my book today. Still, the distractions have been enjoyable. It seemed a bit harsh to send David on his way, considering his very recent contribution to my well-being, but go he had to, with the taste of me lingering in his mouth. I would prefer not to do the same for him.

The boys have had fun in the water. It's lovely seeing how much they enjoy each other's company. They are both so beautiful, I could cry. Honestly, I could.

The boys are cold. Despite some vigorous towelling off, the cool English Channel water has sapped the heat from their bodies. Elliot remarks on the effect that cold water has on young boys' genitals……less so in the more robust James' case it has to be said. Elliot studies the blanched and somewhat shrunken head and shaft of his penis. His balls are nowhere to be seen, having sensibly disappeared to the warmer environs of his abdomen no doubt.

'Can we wrap the rug around us?' Elliot enquires, mid shiver.

Good idea.

I didn't see David again that day. He had wandered off to the other side of the beach and was out of sight amongst some rocks. He told me he comes here for casual sex. I told him how dangerous that is. He replied saying that he needs and enjoys sex with men. He's twenty five. He has no partner, so he comes to Fairlight Cove to meet like-minded people. He told me that he can find a different partner here three or four times in any one day if he wants to, either giving in some way, which he can do at least twice, or be on the receiving end, which he can do as much as he likes, so he says. He claims to be very conscious of health and safety. Just as well.

The boys stayed cocooned in their blanket for some little while, James seemingly spooned into Elliot. This morning in bed, James had declined my offer of assistance, probably to save himself for Elliot I suspect. It was unusual for him to do that. Inside the confines of their blanket, there is no movement apart from general shivering. We need to leave here in a half hour at the latest. Their bodies hard against each other will warm them soon enough. Elliot is due home in just over an hour. If they want to enjoy each other, they have the perfect opportunity right now.

'Boys, do you mind if I go for a stroll. I need to stretch my legs.'

I don't get an answer, just a vague shake of James' head.

There are about half the number of bodies on the beach now. By four thirty, most beaches are emptying out. There's no sign of David. I'm dressed in shorts and polo shirt now, so I'm just out for a stroll, and nothing else in case anyone was wondering. When I get back fifteen minutes later, the boys are just where they were, eyes closed and looking warm and relaxed, wrapped in their travel rug. I stand nearby, arranging the rest of the gear for our return.

'You boys need to get dressed now.'

No response.

'Come on. James……I need that rug……now!'

The boys haul themselves to their feet. Elliot looks for his shorts.

'They're here Elliot.' I tell him.

I have them in my hands. Elliot moves towards me, puts his hands on my shoulder, and steps into his shorts. My nose is not far from his nether regions. He's clearly warmed now, and pink, and perfect. James is quickly into his pants so I don't get to see the last of his charming nudity. I will tonight. I grab the rug by two corners. James takes the other two, and together we fold it neatly. Elliot amuses himself by kicking some sand into the wind. His ankles are covered. I watch as he pulls on his tee shirt. He is a total delight.

The reason why Fairlight is so popular with certain people is its inaccessibility. It takes us fifteen minutes to lug all our stuff back up the narrow stony path back to the car, and we are all glad to relax and get the soft top down to let the heat out of the car. I have to say the inconvenience of the hike has been worth it. It's a fifteen minute drive back to Rye, and we deliver Elliot home safely. He looks like he's had a good day out, hair all over the place, and with a few grains of sand still stuck to his face. He presents his mother with that lovely broad smile of his.

I rent a garage just outside the citadel, so James and I have a five minute walk back to Watchbell Street. We leave most of the beach kit in the car. James is staying tonight. He'll go home tomorrow morning. He showers first, emerges as he's drying himself, and flops down on my king sized bed. I make a point of looking at him in a complementary way.

'Do you know how lovely you are James?'

He laughs, and pats the mattress beside him.

'You two looked cosy, all wrapped up in your blanket on the beach?

'Did we?'

'Yes you did.'

'Oh, that's nice.'

He smiles sweetly. I know that look of his. He's not telling.

That's funny. It was just like that for me at school. I might start a sexual encounter with a friend, but there was always a protocol. With Michael, it would always be me first. With John, it was always him. It didn't matter at all really, provided we both came successfully. In those days, it was always by hand, and nil by mouth as they say.

I showered and came out sporting a swollen penis. I had been turning the events, and sights it has to be said, over in my mind as I stood under the caressing warm water. Drying myself, I walk to the end of the bed. James has drawn up his legs and is giving me an unobstructed view of his anatomy.

'Do you have to James?'

'Sorry. Don't you like it then?' he quietly enquires, with that funny look of his.

'Did I say that?'

His answer is to put his knees a little further apart. Teasy boy. I don't think it is in any way an invitation. Anyway, I have a table booked at the George in an hour. I sit on the bed next to James. He has that faraway look on his face that boys get when they are in that sort of a mood. He may well have been fiddling while I was showering, but his hands are safely supporting his head. My guess is that if he gave Elliot a little pleasure wrapped as they were in the blanket, there was none offered by Elliot. It's obvious what he wants to do now, and soon. He knows that I'm never going to interfere or prejudice his relationship with Mathew. I'm very strong minded on an issue like that, but….

'Do you need some help by any chance James?'

'Yes please.' he says, nodding, his expression telling me he is in another place.

I lie next to him and play with his hair, stroke his arms, play with his hardening nipples, and move down to his delicious tummy. Then I gently play around his inner thigh, and then go where he likes me best. Everything is now fully operational in the genital department. His balls feel compact and full of life…….potential life indeed. I'm going to be patient. He's active with his right hand now, and I know that in time he will ejaculate his warm seed onto his chest. He can take as long as he wants…..the longer the better as far as I'm concerned. I watch and wait for the inevitable. As is his desire, and at the last, he grips me hard……..and there it is, formed in two separate pools.

James turns towards me. I'm not sure what's been going on in that sweet head of his, but there's a tear in his eye. Now there's one in his other eye. They enlarge, and form a tiny trickle down the side of his nose and off the left cheek. I'm in the process, as is normal after one of these pleasurable events, of drying his beautiful tummy. I start gently with a tissue from the box. I find I need another. That's a first. I fold both together and place the little package on the bedside table, but I'm worried about those little tears.

'Do you want to tell me James?'

He nods.

'Is it about Mathew?'

That was a guess. It's strange how one can sometimes sense where a problem may lie. He nods again, expressionless. I wait for James to tell me in his own time. More tears appear, and I wipe them gently away. I feel tears forming in my own eyes. I can't bear to see him distressed. Then…….

'He doesn't love me…not any more. I know he doesn't. It's not the same. He just wants sex. He doesn't need me ……not anymore.'

'You don't know that James. He's had a lot on his plate recently. Give him a chance.'

It was a difficult evening. He was quiet over our meal at the George, and took himself off to bed as soon as we got back to Watchbell Street…..not my bed, but the one next to my bedroom he shares with Mathew……when he's here that is. Mathew has noticeably made himself scarce recently, making various excuses about seeing a friend here, there and everywhere it seemed. I don't think the three of us have been to the beach more than twice this holiday. I have to admit that I could see this coming. James has suspected there's a girl involved somewhere. I think he's right. Mathew is due back in Rye this Wednesday, the night before James' results are published. Not another huge row…….please.

The next morning James comes into my bedroom early……..about six thirty. He's wearing a loose grey tee shirt. Grey suits James with his dark brown hair. I look down to see that he's put pants on too…..nice and roomy knicker type briefs. He knows I like him in them. He walks around the bed and climbs in next to me. He needs a long cuddle. He doesn't need or want anything sexual. He's quite often like that. No, he just needs my love, which I have in abundance to give him. I gently kiss his cheek and hold him. I won't ask him anything. If he wants to talk, he will in his own time. I love the warmth of his body, the firmness of his back, and the sweet smell of his hair. I just tell him that I love him, and that will never change. I'm careful that our middles do not make contact, but I can't control how I feel. Nor can I control James. He deliberately moves against me. He knows my body. He can feel me. I look into his face. He's smiling….

'You're a wicked old man Otta.'

'You know I can't help it. Not since I saw that little boy on the train four years ago.'

'Was I nice?'

'If you weren't, you wouldn't be here now.'

'What was I like?'

'You know what you were like. I've told you enough times.'

'Tell me again.'

I told James again. Yet again. I reminded him how we met, and what he did exactly, and what I did, exactly, and all the times we were together after that.

'What did you like best about me Otta….you know…..on the train?'

I don't want to answer that one, at least not entirely truthfully.

'Hmm. Let me see now. I loved that deep pink blazer of yours…….and your pretty face of course. You had just had your hair trimmed. I remember how neatly it went around your ears. You have lovely neat ears. I notice those details.'

'They stick out don't they?'

'No they don't!'

'They do….a bit. What else then? There must be something else you liked about me.'

'Do I have to?'

'Yes you do! Go on?'

'You had beautiful legs if you must know. I couldn't see your arms. Good hands, and a lovely mouth…beautiful lips….and a very sweet voice too.'

'Tell me about my legs. I was in short trousers then wasn't I?'

'You were.'

'What could you see?'

'Your nice legs.'

'How much of them?'

'Quite a lot actually.'

'Right to the top?'

'That depends on how you were sitting. You moved around quite a bit. Every now and again……..'


'Every now and again………well, you know perfectly well. Boys in short trousers should keep their knees together. Of course you didn't realise. I shouldn't have noticed.'

'Was I wearing any pants?'

'Yes you were.'

'What were they like?'

'White, and…….not very well fitting. Maybe your mother thought you were bigger than you were.

'Probably. Everything she got for me was a bit too big, including those probably. Could you see anything?'

'Not much. A little skinny thing maybe? Not much at all. A very sweet little thing it was too.'

We laughed.

'Like a little spear?'

'Yes, coming to a point at the end.'

'You saw it in the loos didn't you?'

'Yes. You said you needed some help in there, so I helped you.'

'You're very good at helping me.'

'I know. Do you help Elliot?'

'Yes, with his maths.'

'Anything else?'

'It's his fault. He keeps on at me. When I explain a problem, he leans against me……sort of breathing on me. He wants to stop and….'

'And what?'



'Yes. I asked him what he wanted to do. He smiled and looked down at his willy. Then he took hold of my hand and put it on it.'


'Yes, it . It was obvious what he wanted me to do. We always did the maths work in his bedroom. That's where he does his homework. We'd be up there for about an hour before he had his tea. We had plenty of time. It didn't take very long. I'd sit on the edge of his bed and he'd stand in front of me while I undid his school trousers. Then I would get his willy out of his pants. I'd pull the front down so it would pop out. Then I would start tickling him. We would both lie down together and I'd rub him up until he was finished. We'd stay like that afterwards for a while. His mother never disturbed us. It was nice. I didn't mind doing it for him. I like him.'

'So he never offers?'

'No. He loses interest afterwards.'

'How selfish. Do you want him to?'

'No, not really. I think it would be disloyal to Mathew.'

'Goodness. That's very high minded of you. I suspect he asked you while you were both wrapped up in the rug on the beach. Am I right?'

'Yes. How did you know?'

'Things you leave behind James. I assumed it came from Elliot?'

No answer. I go on…….

'And Mr Sendall? I don't suppose he ever needed help?'

'I've told you about him already. He was really kind to me.'

'You told me you went to his room sometimes. Would you mind my asking exactly what happened in there?'

'No, not really. I thought he was wonderful… handsome. I'd be nervous before he took us for PE. I think it was the anticipation of seeing him in his kit…..those shorts he wore. He looked fantastic. I just had this huge admiration for anything he did. I had a major crush on him, like a little girl has for an older girl. It was sex too. I would think about him in bed and…..well, you know what boys do in bed. I'd do it two or three times sometimes. I knew he was looking at me all the time. I hoped he felt the same way about me as I felt about him. Then one morning I woke up really early, so I left the dorm on tip-toe. It wasn't even light. I went along the corridor to where his room was. The door was ajar. I pushed it open. He was asleep with his back to me. I walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. That must have disturbed him. He turned over and looked at me. He stared at me as if he couldn't believe I was actually there. I asked him if I could come in with him. He nodded. I don't think he could ever have got any words out. I stood up and undid my pyjama top and took it off. Then I undid the bottoms which fell straight down on to the carpeted floor. He got up on his elbows and just stared at me. I didn't move. I just stood there. I watched his eyes. He was watching me……looking at me…….there. It was so sexy being looked at by him. I realised then that that was what I wanted and made me feel so sexy. It was him looking at me like that. Of course he knew he couldn't touch a boy. I don't even know that he wanted to anyway. I wanted him so badly. Then he drew back the bed covers, and I saw his penis. It was sticking straight out. He slept naked in bed. It was all so ridiculous really. He put his arms around me and started to kiss me all over. All round my neck and shoulders, and then my mouth. I started that. It was my fault. I kept feeling his tummy. It felt hard. Then I went lower and touched his penis. I remember his saying 'oh, oh' over and over again. He didn't try to stop me. We lay against each other for a while. Then very quietly, almost as if he didn't want me to hear him, he whispered 'please….please…'. I knew what he meant. When I started he didn't try to stop me. I was determined to make him feel good. Near the end, he pushed the covers back so he could see everything. I was using my whole fist. I'd never seen it come before. We'd had a lesson about it so I knew what happened. We used to talk about it after lights out……what it would be like, and when we might start getting some. None of us could. It was a shock when it happened. I had it all over my hand. I had no idea what to do with it, so I wiped it all onto my tummy. I just wanted it there. That way it wouldn't be wasted. I wanted it on me. He just watched me do it. I remember him smiling. I looked at his penis. It was still hard. He squeezed more out of it onto his fingers. My penis had some of his goo on it. I pulled the skin right back and he put more on it…right on the tip, so the skin would slide up and down easily. It felt so sensitive.'

James went quiet for a while, as well he might. I wanted to know how many nocturnal visits he had made to Mr Sendall's private quarters.

'I don't know…..maybe ten times. Once or twice I was the only boy left in the House as all the others had an exeat for the weekend. Anyway, I had to be there to sing the Sunday services. On the Saturday, he would take me out somewhere. One day we went to Bosham. We sat in the church for a while. There was no one else in there. We sat at the back and he put his arm round me. I remember how warm it felt. Apart from my mother, it was the first time I felt that someone loved me. I looked at him and he had tears running down his face. He could see I looked worried. I'll never forget what he said. He said 'My darling, these are my tears of sorrow. I'm sorry.' I didn't know what he meant, but it made me cry too. After that we drove in his old Mini to West Wittering. There are wonderful sand dunes there. We lay in a little hollow and he kissed me lots of times. I remember how good it felt. It made me feel sexy when he did that. I could see his was too. He asked me if I wanted to show him. I did want to. I held it for him. He didn't touch it. He told me how beautiful I was. I said that he was too. I lay next to him and felt him. I asked him if he wanted me to. He said he did if I didn't mind. We lay on our sides with me behind him so it would all go into the sand. It did. We could see the Isle of Wight in the distance, and boats going along. We just lay there and stared at everything. The last time I was in his bed was two nights before I left the school. We didn't do anything. He just held me in his arms for ages. It was the second time I saw him cry. I told him that after I had left the school, I would write a letter to him. About two months later I did, when I knew he would be back in Chichester. I knew the danger I had put him in. I wanted to say it was my fault. He was never to blame for what happened. I started it. I asked him to keep the letter. I never heard anything. That's it really. I don't regret anything……any of it…….. nothing.'

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