Love - Existentially
by John Teller
Part 16
Book Six - When Englishmen were boys
Michael Johnson.
It's early May, Sunday, and the sun is warm on our backs as Stuart and I cycle along a country lane away from the heavy traffic. Stuart, in his own inimitable scheming way, has persuaded me to go cycling with him, just as he's schemed and persuaded his parents that our spending a day together would be a good precursor to us joining a cycling club.
This part of the lane is twisty, and because it's not safe to ride side-by-side, I've told him to go in front and I'll follow. Because we're on a slight incline and because he's wearing shorts – white ones – I can see his strong young legs working to keep a reasonable pace. I can also see the form of his beautiful bottom that I know so well by now.
Since the meal at his place, we've made love often. Mostly at my place when Alex was on the noon shift, but also, because we were both feeling extraordinarily randy after an enforced period of abstention, we managed to sneak off at lunchtime and went to a secluded spot on the disused airfield opposite the school, and did it there.
Now, as I watch him, because I want him again, I'm thinking ahead. Stuart is three lengths ahead of me. Suddenly, he stops, turns to me, and points to the river, which is running beside the road. "I'm hot, Michael. If we can find a secluded place to swim, shall we?"
I grin at him. "I haven't brought my swimming trunks."
He grins back. "Who needs swimming trunks? That's why I said 'secluded'."
I'm by his side now and I flick him on the ear. "Your middle name should have been 'sex'."
He smiles, and then his face becomes serious. He strokes my bare arm. "I don't care how or where, but if we don't find a place soon then I'm going to strip off in the road and make you do me."
This is England, deep in the countryside, in early May, and although we've passed two or three farmhouses in the last half-hour, we haven't seen a single vehicle or a single person. That's because the crops have been sown and all the field work has been done, and now the farmers will not be in the fields; they'll be mending their machinery or whatever they do in this period before harvesting their crops. That's why everywhere is quiet, and that's why I decide it's safe to find Stuart's 'secluded place'.
It's another half-hour before we find it. We're well away from the road and by a part of the river that's deep enough to swim in, and hidden in the middle of a copse of oak and silver birch and conifers. The grass is virgin and long, which tells me that no cattle use it here. Birds are busy. Another good sign. I place my cycle against a tree and Stuart does the same. I look at him. "Will this do?"
Stuart comes into my arms. The first touch of his lips on mine stirs me deep inside, as it always does whenever we kiss, and his eager mouth as we're sharing a passionate kiss means as much to me as anything else we do... even our most sexual moments. His warm lips are soft and succulent, and each movement speaks to me. They're now telling me how much he wants me. Until I met Stuart, I would never have believed that a small boy as young as he is could ever be such a sexual creature. But Stuart is. It oozes from every pore of his delicate body, and I only have to rub my lips across his to get a raise in my pants. And he knows it, and now he's darting his tongue in and out of my mouth, and I know that he wants me badly. Well, I want him the same, but I push him away.
Stuart looks puzzled. "I thought..."
I put my finger to his lips. "I'm sweating like a stuck pig. Swim first; that afterwards."
As I strip, I watch him discarding his few clothes to reveal the body that I worship with a passion. His waist is slim and curved, and the beautiful orbs of his bum are perfection, as is the rest of him. He walks to the water's edge and looks back at me. I grin at him. He grins back at me, jumps into the river and with a look of utter shock on his face, he gasps and splutters and yells, "It's cold! It's cold! It's bloody freezing!"
After I've stopped laughing, I don't do what Stuart did; I wade into the water, and when I've adjusted to the cold, I begin to swim. Stuart is right, despite the warmth of the day, the water is freezing!
We don't stay in long... it's too cold, and then we go back onto the bank side and lie down side by side, naked, holding hands on the sweet smelling grass, looking up at the almost mid-day sun, which, slowly, warms our bodies. When Stuart got out of the water, I noticed that his boyhood had shrivelled, as had mine, but now, as the sun warms us, the blood begins to flow, and I'm aware that our thoughts are reflected by the state we're in. Stuart giggles and rolls on top of me. His hair is still wet and the water runs from it and down onto my face when we kiss. He breaks the kiss, strokes my face and stares into my eyes, and I see the lustful need in his. He plants a quick kiss on my lips, and then another half dozen, and then his succulent lips are all over my face and eyes and neck, and he asks, "Did you bring any Vaseline?"
I nod. "Of course. Did you?"
Stuart grins. "Buckets of it."
I chuckle and push him off me onto his back and then lean on my elbow by the side of him and look at the entireness of the beautiful creature beside me. His eyes follow my hand and fingers as I stroke every soft curve of his compliant, supple body: his adorable countenance; his beautiful ears; the slender neck that leads to fragile shoulders and slim arms and almost hairless armpits; his breast and the two nipples that are swollen because he's aroused. I trace my fingers down to his inverted, perfect navel; follow the twin valleys of his lower abdomen to the sweetmeat that is fully erect and throbbing; and when he parts his legs to allow me access, because his ballsac is now relaxed, I fondle the two organs that produce the boy-nectar that has become like a love-potion to me. And then my lust becomes too much to bear and fingers are no longer enough to savour My Beauty.
Lips and tongue now... savouring nebulous inner thighs and down to beautiful boy knees and further down to the two petit feet with those perfect toes, which I dwell on for quite a while... kissing and sucking each one in turn before I devour all five toes and suck on them. Right foot... and then the left one. Then I twist his feet, a signal that he should turn over. He complies, willingly, and rests his head on his arms.
My journey upwards is just as lustful and sexual and sensual as I raise myself up and straddle My Beauty. Firm hands now, massaging the suppleness of his perfect being. Thighs that I can span easily, and then the two orbs of enchantment that drive me crazy because I adore them so much. I want to divide them and delve intoWonderland, but I resist and concentrate on his inverted and curvaceous waist. Two hands spread wide and they encircle his midriff, and my fingers even curl under his tummy because he's so elfin-like. Higher, and I marvel at the delicate bone structure of the creature I now love with an overwhelming passion, and then I lean down and suck on his earlobes. He whimpers. I kiss his cheek and begin my journey downwards.
Wonderland. When I prise it apart and gaze upon the pink and puckered morsel that is twitching with desire, I bury my head within those orbs and devour the succulent confection with tongue and hungry lips. Stuart writhes and moans and draws his knees under him... and I am in a lost, lustful world of my own. Wonderland... the nadir of my carnal desires. So, too, is my beautiful boy, and when I reach under him and grasp his throbbing hardness, he bucks into my hand and shudders and shakes and whimpers his way to Nirvana.
It has been beautiful.
He is on his back, recovered after I spent quite a while savouring the part of him that excites me most when we are in lustful-mode, before I went up to look at the other part of him that drives me crazy – his beautiful face, staring up at me, misty-eyed and smiling. I smile back at him, at the centre of my universe, and my voice is hoarse when I say, "I love you, Stuart Begbie. You're the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes on."
Stuart doesn't speak. Instead, his hand comes behind my head and I feel the steady pressure as he pulls me to him. I'm looking down into the fabulous blue eyes; the hypnotic eyes that enchant me, and I see the love pouring out of them and into my own, and when the pressure of his hand is renewed, our lips come together in a kiss of pure, unadulterated love. Soft, searching lips caress my own, and then the darting tongue flicks in and out of my mouth, and there's urgency in that darting tongue that tells me how much he needs me. And then I catch it, and suck it, and he whimpers, and I feel his whole body rising from the soft grass. He is ready again.
I break the kiss, desperate to please my lover; to bring him to the height of ecstasy; to relieve him of his aching need... and mine
His neck is soft as my lips caress it; both nipples are erect as I nibble on them; his slender waist rises, trembling, as I kiss it, and then I take him to bring him his relief, and when it happens, he jerks and shudders and spasms and ejects the essence of what he is into my willing mouth, and I devour his lust greedily like a bear devours honey... and when it's over, I make sure not a drop is wasted. Only then do I go back up and look at the contented face of the young man I love. Both hands come up to my face and his fingernails scrape gently over my cheeks as he stares into my eyes. Words would be an intrusion into what is happening now, and neither of us speaks. For a long time we stay like this, and then I see the mistiness in his eyes... and the first tear of love appears. It trickles from the corner of his left eye and down the side of his face... and then another one from the right one. And then the flood of tears... and the deep, heart-wrenching sobs that are his spirit crying for my love.
I smile at him, and softly I tell him, "I love you. I love you. I love you."
The words break the spell, and he smiles through his tears. His overloaded spirit, satisfied with my declaration, retreats back into the security of his small heart, and at that very moment I vow to myself that I will never harm the wonderful, precious creature beneath me.
From the sublime to mischievous ridiculousness. Stuart's face changes in an instant. "Get the Vaseline, Lover Boy!"
I grin, and then I giggle, not only at his words, but because I know what will happen next. I get up and go the saddlebag on my bike and root out the large tub of Vaseline. I show it to Stuart.
The astonishment on his face is worth a fortune when he declares. "My God! How long are you intending to stay here?!"
His amusing words reduce me to tears, and only when I manage to stop laughing do I tell him that it's not my fault. "I asked Alex to get some in. He did the Co-op shopping, and came back with this. I cursed him, but he just laughed. He said half was for you. Something about stopping nappy-rash on your little... pinkler?"
Now it's Stuart's turn to break down with laughter. When he controls himself and reduces his amusement to giggles, he says, "When I was at your house. The first time I came. On the Sunday... when he dried me... he saw me naked and called it my 'little pinkler'."
I laugh with him, and then dip my finger into the jar and tell him, "Roll over Lover Boy! This is expensive stuff, so best we use it!"
He grins and goes onto his hands and knees and pulls his buttocks apart so I can apply the lubricant, and within a few moments we're coupled and nothing else matters except the glorious, sensational feelings that are like an opiate to us both, and when the final, joyous moment overwhelms us, the love and lust combined are beyond comprehension.
Still naked, we're laying side-by-side on the grass, but now we're eating our sandwiches. Stuart wants to know what I've got on mine, and when I tell him I have marmalade, he offers to swap me for one of his cheese ones. I tell him that I'm surprised he hasn't got 'foydee grass'. He giggles at that remark and says that he expected me to bring pig's trotters. The fact that we're amusing ourselves now and not dwelling on Alex's balls-up with the Vaseline sort of brings us both down to earth, and when we've shared half my bottle of water, Stuart turns onto his side and points to his bum. "Stop playing silly buggers now Michael, and play proper buggers again!"
I snuggle up behind him. He curls up into a ball, and then it becomes self-service. This is one of our newly discovered ways of doing things where all I have to do is wrap my arms around my boy and fondle him while he reaches behind him and directs operations. And the reason this is so special is that Stuart has found a new friend. There is a place within him that, when stimulated, is capable of taking him to new heights of his lustful desires, and I have become a simple tool of pleasure for these moments. Not that I'm complaining. Stuart's pleasures are my pleasures, and to be used at times is both novel and rewarding. Familiarity brings compatibility, and we both know how to pace ourselves to each give the other maximum pleasure. On this occasion, thirty minutes of compatibility, and only when Stuart has used me to create a number of his small, semi-climaxes do we return to our face-to-face loving mode.
Kisses, chuckles, giggles, more kisses, and then he says as he stares into my eyes, "You haven't lost your appetite for me, have you?"
I shake my head. "No. I've been enjoying pleasing you."
Stuart gives me a lovely smile. "That's why I love you. You're so unselfish."
(Fun time!)
I scowl at him. "I am not unselfish! I have been happily and selfishly devouring you in my own way! Don't you get above your station, Young Master Magic Cap! I will be the judge of what pleases me and what does not! While you were busy using me to play with yourself, I was looking at the back of your head and I was thinking that you needed a haircut."
Stuart's sparkling amused eyes glare at me. "I do not need a haircut! I had one last weekend. I think you're losing your virility. When I first met you properly, I wondered how long it would be before I wore you out."
I return his look with a wide-eyed stare. "You... you... a stick of an insect wearing out the Champion of All-England! My God! If I set my mind to it I would have you on your knees begging me for mercy because you would be so worn out and sore!"
Stuart's eyes are also wide when he says, "Rubbish! You didn't know what it was for before you met me!" Then he giggles evilly. "You thought it was for peeing out of. It took a real man, or in this case, a real boy to show you what you're supposed to do with it. I even had to dive off the top stage to make you get a little bit excited that way. It took a Boy God to cast a sexy spell on you, and then you could only buy me biscuits afterwards. Even when I presented myself on a plate in the cinema, all you could think about was a tub of ice cream. And there was me soiling my pants while you were thinking of ice cream. Did you, for one single moment consider that you could have had a free tub of it!"
I giggle. "A tub of it! Don't make me laugh! I've had larger doses of Castor Oil. And with you, I have to keep banging the damned bottom of the bottle to get even a small dose out of you! It's like trying to get HP Sauce out of a bottle when it's freezing cold."
Stuart is gurgling with laughter now, but he hasn't quite given up the battle, and he retorts, "Well maybe it is, but you seem to enjoy banging the bottom of the bottle. And you make sure you lick the damned spoon clean before you go back to being frigid. That's when you drink directly out of the bottle." Then that evil grin again, and this time when he speaks, he adopts his special whining voice when he says, "Talking about drinking out of bottles and banging the bottoms of them, you wouldn't like to do your lovely Diving Expert a special favour, would you?"
"And what favour would that be?"
He giggles. "The bottle is empty. I think it needs filling up. But I think you might have to really bang the bottom of it before you can do that. I think there might be an airlock inside it." Then he grins. "That's if you're capable of filling bottles now. Properly, I mean."
The bottle is filled and we're relaxing on our backs, still chuckling occasionally at what has just happened. I didn't spare his feelings one bit as I filled the bottle, but there was nothing I did that wasn't welcomed by Stuart. In fact, whatever I achieved, he wanted more. He insisted! That's why I have nothing left to give him. It took three of my own uninterrupted and continuous efforts and conclusions before I finally gave in to nature's warning that enough was enough. I look at him. His laughing eyes are wild, and he's looking at me in a strange way: almost sub-human, and for the first time since we met, I realise what a sexually deviant creature he is. I'm not thinking badly of him, I'm just amazed that this beautiful, small boy is like that. He's certainly a far cry from the demure young man who collected his Magic Cap. I look right into his eyes and try to get inside him when I say, "You wanted that, didn't you?"
He nods. "I've been dreaming that this would happen ever since I laid eyes on you. I worship you. I'm your slave who was born to please you. I belong to you... if you'll have me."
I smile into his eyes. "Of course I'll have you. Any way you want. But you don't have to be my slave."
Stuart grabs my hand and brings it to his lips, and kisses it over and over again. "I love you. I want to be your slave. I like being your slave." Then he looks into my eyes. "I want you to dominate me. That's what I am, Michael. I want always to be your boy, but I don't have any illusions about what I am. I'm the girly one, and that's why I like you inside me. Do you mind me being that?"
I push him onto his back and lean over him, lower my lips to his, and kiss him tenderly while he's stroking my cheeks. I pull away. "No, I don't mind at all." And then I smile at him. "Either of us could choose to be the girly one, and I knew it wasn't going to be me."
My smile is all it takes to bring Stuart out of this deep moment. He grins. "Good. Then that's that settled. I wanted to get that out of the way so we could get on with it."
"It?"
"Us. Me and you... completely compatible lovers as well as being special friends who love each other without reservation. It's the ultimate place to be for people like us. What we've just done... I want to stay in this place forever and never stop doing what we've just done, and after each time we've done it, I want to sink into your arms and lose myself in your love. Can you possibly understand how much I love you Michael?"
I smile at him. "Yes. And do you know how I can understand how much you love me? Because my own love for you has no boundaries... no limits... no fancy names... just two words describe it... True love. I love you Stuart Begbie.
Stuart smiles and nods. "I know you do, and the boy you love, loves Michael Johnson... Champion of All-England, not only at athletics, but the champion of boys like me whose only wish is to be loved by someone like you."
I smile at my boy, and then say, "I reckon we should have a quick dip, and then you can accompany Michael on his cycle back to your home before they send the cops looking for us. They'll be thinking we might have got into trouble doing something we shouldn't have been doing."
My joke makes him laugh, and he springs up and leaps into the river. The sight of his naked, slim, beautiful body as he leaps through the air is something I know I will never forget as long as I live. He's standing waist deep now, arms out, waiting for me. I leap into the cold water and go to him and sweep him into my arms. We come together, his arms around my neck, and we stare into each other's eyes. He licks a cheeky tongue out at me. "You shouldn't have picked up my Magic Cap."
I pull a face at him. "That bloody cap! God knows where it's going to lead us!"
Stuart grins. "To Paradise... and beyond... if we're clever."
Sunday June 3rd. The day of the Lord Lieutenant's garden party.
I've had my body bath, dressed, and am combing my hair when Alex comes out of the kitchen, naked. He's had a body bath using the same warm water I used, and he's towelling his hair. Unlike me, he's not shy. Everything there is to see of him is available to me. He's two inches bigger than me – six feet tall – and he has a fine body; muscular, and it oozes strength. Down the side of his right shoulder are a number of blue, patchy scars. I know he has some on his back, too. They're mementos of him being buried on the coal face when one of the timber packs gave way. He escaped with his life that day...just. And he's as hard as nails. Within two days he was back on the coalface, hewing out his stint. He looks at me, and grins. "You look dead cute, Kiddo. Lover Boy's pinkler will be pleased."
"Don't be so bloody disgusting, you bloody animal! Leave him alone!"
Alex giggles from under his towel. "Lover Boy likes me calling it that. It makes him snigger. He's got a better sense of humour than you. Have you fastened Judy in the kennel?"
"No, I've put her on the chain. It's too hot to be locked in the kennel, you cruel sod. And I've filled the bowl with water."
"That's what I meant, you bloody idiot! Anyway, will there be a lot of posh talent at this do?"
"The only one I know is the Lord Lieutenant's daughter. I haven't seen her, but Stuart says she's hot. He says she'll love your black eyes."
"Great stuff. That's me fixed up then. I'll get Lover Boy to introduce me."
"Stop calling him that! I've told you before about it!"
Alex ignores me and lowers the wooden-slat clothes dryer down from the ceiling, drapes the towel over it, winds it back up again, and ties the cords to the hook. "Right, I'll go and get dressed. Its half past eleven and Mr Bourne will be here in half an hour."
While Alex is upstairs, I sit in Dada's chair and look around the room. Nothing has changed since Dada died. His wooden leg is propped up by the side of the china cabinet. Alex put it there the day after Dada's funeral. When I asked him why he'd done it, he said it was to remind us of what Dada used to say – 'Get on with your bloody lives or I'll kick you down the High Street with this bloody leg.' The thought makes my eyes misty, but it also brings a smile to my face, and I sit and tell Dada what's going on and how we're invited to the Lord Lieutenant's garden party this afternoon.
Alex comes down the stairs, still combing his dark hair. He slicks it back and then looks at himself in the bevelled mirror above the empty fireplace. He's wearing dark blue slacks and a blue check shirt, open at the collar. When he turns, I can see the hairs on his chest showing in the cleavage because he's deliberately undone two buttons instead of just one. Even I have to admit that he's a handsome bastard, and he'll look even better when he puts his black shoes on that were polished to a high gloss last night.
There's a knock on the front door and I go to answer it. It's Mr Bourne, and he's smiling at me when he asks, "Are you ready, Michael?"
"Yes. I'll get Alex and we'll come out to you." I look at the Armstrong Siddeley parked in front of the house, and wave to Mrs Bourne, who waves back to me. I get Alex, who ushers me out and then locks the door. We both get into the back of the car.
"Carry on Jeeves."
Alex's comment makes us all laugh and I wonder how the posh people at the garden party will take to him. They've got two chances with Alex: take him or leave him, because he doesn't give a shit for anything or anyone, and just as he's made fun of Mr Bourne, he'll do the same to the Lord Lieutenant if the chance arises. Stuart worships his sense of humour, and he and Alex get on like a house on fire. He even calls Stuart 'Lover Boy' to his face, and Stuart never complains. In fact, I think Stuart is pleased with the familiar term of address.
I stare through the side window at the countryside flashing past us and think about what's happening. Life is becoming crazy, and it's all because of one person: Stuart Begbie... and that bloody Magic Cap. From the mundane to the sublime; ever since it landed by my feet and I was hooked by his gorgeous blue eyes. He's waiting for me now. I can smell him. Yes, actually smell him! He always covers himself with lavender perfume before we meet. It's not a heady smell; it's a sort of background smell that compliments his girlishness. Yes, his girlishness. We all try to smell better to a degree. I've stopped using carbolic soap and now use a proprietary brand of soap that doesn't smell as if I'm in a hospital. But Stuart applies lavender perfume to every area of his body that he knows my lips go to; even to those places he describes as: My most private parts that are for your eyes, and lips, and something else, only.
And in a very short time I'll be able to feast my eyes on my Lavender Boy. Or should that be my Lavender Girl? I smile inwardly. I'm at ease with it. We two know; the rest of the world won't; and that's fine with us both. Our business is nobody else's business. Except for Alex and Mr Bourne, of course. But even they are not privy to the inner workings of the Champion of All-England and the lavender scented Boy with the Magic Cap.
I'm becoming nervous again. I hope I'll have Dada's strength in me to face 'them' this afternoon. It matters to Stuart; it matters to Alex and Mr Bourne; and I want so much not to let them down.
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