A Boy Named James,

by Jolyon Lewes

Chapter 15

Summer Term, 1965

Summer Term was going to be difficult if James and I had to be seen to keep apart. The Head Boy would be watching and so would other prefects. I wondered if I could keep my promise to James's father to keep the boy out of trouble and away from the malign influence of the few remaining hard boys. It also worried me that James might form a deep friendship with a perfectly nice boy who'd take my place in his affections.

There was nothing to stop me watching James at tennis and cricket as he was in the School's senior team in both sports and spectators were encouraged. Naturally, I took full advantage of this but always arranged to be with other spectators so that I couldn't be accused of sitting alone, gawping at my beautiful boy.

Watching James at cricket was highly enjoyable but watching him at tennis was even better, for two good reasons: tennis courts being quite small, he was never far from his admirers and he was in shorts, not longs and, oh boy, his tennis shorts were so brief they only just covered his bottom.

I often sat with Pete, my trusted friend who knew how much I liked James.

"Ellis grows a little lovelier each day, doesn't he, Jolyon? If I didn't like girls, I'd want a boy like that!"

As well as cricket and tennis, James did a lot of circuit training and his muscles were developing nicely. His arms were slender but his legs and hips were broadening so the shorts he wore were having an increasingly difficult job to contain him. I wondered if his sisters, who'd been shortening his shorts since he was twelve, realised just how much bare bottom poked out, now that he was nearly seventeen.

James and I had a chance to chat when we were in the common room or refectory or chapel but we were careful not to be alone. I yearned for a grope but for sex I had to make do with my Sunday morning assignations with the childlike Jack, who dutifully came to my room after church to be manhandled, snogged and have his tummy smeared with semen.

I wanted to do something special for James's seventeenth birthday, a month after the start of term and a week or so before half term. We dared not meet in my room so hatched a plan with some friends. After school on the day in question James would walk around the cricket field with a couple of his mates and I would do the same walk but in the opposite direction with my trusted friend Pete. On passing, each group would continue walking but next time, suitably close to the pavilion, we would stop to chat and if the coast was clear, James and I would enter the pavilion for twenty minutes of privacy while our friends kept a lookout.

It worked a treat. Predictably, James was in his PE kit so a grope was definitely on the agenda but something else happened as soon as we two were alone. James hardly ever showed emotion but as soon as I'd sat down he muttered 'Oh, my darling!" put his arms around my neck and planted a kiss on my mouth.

I was taken aback - he'd never before done anything like that! Before I had a chance to put my arms around him he pulled back, gave me a lovely smile and asked if I'd got him a birthday present. I pulled a quarter bottle of Lemon Hart rum from my pocket. He said thank you and turned to sit beside me, yanking up on the waistband of his PE shorts, saucily revealing even more bare bottom.

Sitting on the wooden bench made James's wonderful thighs spread nicely, giving me a vast area of fabulously smooth skin to ride my fingers over, which I gleefully did, whilst taking occasional slurps from the bottle, alternating with him. We didn't have long so made swift work of the rum and that meant I could concentrate on the groping. We each had hard-ons, of course, and this time I knew I was going to have to ejaculate.

James knew what was happening and after I'd reached climax he let me keep my hand on his thigh and pushed his own hand hard onto his erection, presumably to quell his excitement.

"Can't wait for half term, Jols. Only ten days to go till we can do more of this. If you want to, that is."

I kissed his cheek. That was another first and was lovely.

"Happy birthday, you little tinker."

"Not so little, Jols, not in any sense." He winked at me sexily. "Time's up. We'd better go."

As Pete and I walked back to the main building he asked me if I'd enjoyed myself.

"What do you think?" I said. "Trouble is, I lost control and now I've got to change my underwear."

The day before half term James told me we'd be going to a two-day tennis tournament near Cambridge and said I should bring my school blazer and straw boater 'to look the part,' and that on the Friday his sister Joan's twenty-first birthday would be marked by a garden party chez Ellis. So of the four full days of half term three would be fully booked with being polite and sociable with others. Still, he and I would at least be sleeping together in his bedroom. I wondered if anything involving more than a gentle grope would be possible.

The Housemaster knew I'd be spending half term with James but there was no reason for the Head Boy to know and anyway he couldn't do anything about it. James and I set off on the last Thursday in May for the last half term I would ever have, seeing as I was leaving school at the end of term.

I was relieved to see that on arrival at home James didn't have to change into little grey shorts; he was, after all, seventeen now. I was also a little disappointed, because if he wore long trousers I'd be denied an almost constant view of those marvellous legs of his. I needn't have worried because I'd be seeing a lot of his legs - after tea he put on his tennis kit and had a game with his mother, which I watched from a chair outside the summer house. Supper that night was informal so he could stay in tennis kit all evening.

The first time we were alone together was at bedtime. He sat on his bed and invited me to join him.

"You've been waiting for this, Jols, I can tell. Wanna grope?"

"How can you tell?" I said. "It's not as if I've had a stonking great hard-on."

"It's the way you kept looking at your watch, like you were wishing the time away till we could be in my bedroom."

That made me blush. Was I so transparent? I had a nice grope. There was more to James's tennis shorts than to the tiny PE shorts he'd worn in the pavilion but nonetheless his thighs were bare to the very top and his skin, firm, smooth and warm, was a delight to feel. My hard-on quickly materialised. And so did his. This time I didn't lose control.

We readied ourselves for bed and James checked in his wardrobe to make sure his dark-grey, long-trousered suit was there.

"Thank God," he said. "This is what I'll wear for Joan's party tomorrow. The Continental suit with the bloody micro-shorts is here, too. I don't intend to wear it ever again."

As a guest in James's house I'd expect him to call the shots but elsewhere, even at school, he'd usually been the one who took the initiative, as in the first kiss we had, that time in the pavilion. He was always the one who started a groping session, with me the one who gratefully accepted the treat, like an eager puppy. But it wasn't always James who called the shots, not at home where he was still regarded as the baby of the family.

And so it was that Joan persuaded him to wear the Continental suit, 'just one more time, darling, just for my birthday. You'll look so sweet...'

I overheard the conversation and despite his protestations, James conceded defeat. "I'm only doing it for you, Joan," he said, "and I'm never doing it again!"

Till the next time, I thought, as my willy stiffened nicely.

When it was time to change for the party, I put on my school uniform and James stripped to nothing, before putting on the specially high-cut briefs he wore with the micro-shorts. The garment had to be tiny enough not to show below the micro-shorts. Like a thong, all it had a at the rear was a narrow strip of cloth that passed tightly between his buttocks.

"Mama said I've got to wear these pants under my tennis shorts at the tournament, instead of a jockstrap, because the straps at the back showed last night when we were playing tennis and she said it looked vulgar. So, yet more embarrassment for me, Jols."

"Don't you have longer shorts? That would solve the problem."

"Yeah but they're at school. All the ones here at home are ultra-short. My bare bum will probably show a bit but I can't see you objecting to that."

"You know me too well, James," I said, trying not to look lustful.

He took out one of his shirts that had had its tails removed to stop any part of them poking out of the legs of his shorts. Then he put on the micro-shorts and winced as he pulled the braces over his shoulders. After that it was the charcoal-grey knee socks, his shiny black shoes, a tie and last of all the jacket that matched the shorts. His expression was very sullen but he looked simply gorgeous, good enough to eat.

Outside caterers had been employed to prepare and serve the food and drinks for Joan's party and the weather was perfect. Before proceedings began I joined James in the garden with his parents, his sisters and the fiancé of his older sister, Susannah. James was told how sweet he looked and I knew what would happen next. His mother told him to take off his jacket then tightened his braces, causing a squeak of pain as his micro-shorts were forced into his crotch. Red-faced, he put on his jacket and stood looking miserable. Two full inches of his bare bottom were visible to all but no member of his family commented. To them he was still very much the baby of the family but a baby that would soon be drinking wine with everyone else.

There were about twenty guests, all adults and all formally dressed. They all seemed to know James, who moved amongst them, smiling and making small talk. He must have felt mightily humiliated yet was the model of good manners. I felt very proud of him. I knew none of the guests and hung close to James, trying hard not to stare at his beautiful thighs as they glinted in the sunshine.

There was a tall, rather stout young man with a very plummy accent who went up to James and shook his hand vigorously and tousled his hair even more vigorously before engaging him in conversation. James behaved rather coldly, replying in monosyllables and trying to edge away from the man. Was this the man James called CPS, the man I'd seen on the cine film, the man who liked to molest him under the dining table?

"That's CPS," whispered James to me a few minutes later. "I wish he'd stop looking at me like that."

Sure enough, CPS was leering at James in a very blatant sort of way but nobody seemed to notice. The man had huge, hairy hands. The thought of such monstrosities working their way up James's fabulous thighs filled me with disgust.

When James was in a group of ladies all saying how sweet he looked I went to the kitchen to see if I could help the caterers by taking trays of drinks around. The waiter was talking to the chef.

"There's a boy out there in incredible little shorts, not even long enough to cover his bum."

"Yeah, I've seen him," said the chef, "he's sensational! And his legs are out of this world! I wonder how old he is."

"About fourteen, I should think," said the waiter.

I'd love to have seen their faces if I'd told them the boy was seventeen.

The temperature in the garden was rising, as was the humidity. Men were fingering their collars and ladies were seeking the shade of the trees. I'd had quite a lot of wine and was feeling a a bit tipsy. I joined James, giving him a full glass of wine from my tray and taking his empty one.

"Thanks, Jols. Oh God, here comes CPS."

"Dear boys," said the booming voice, " you look like good friends. Is this the boy from school you told me about, James?"


"My name's Jolyon Lewes, sir," I said, offering my right hand.

A second later I had touched the hand that had so rudely and so often caressed the glorious flesh of the thighs of the boy I loved. I tried to make conversation but CPS liked to do all the talking, so I just listened.

After a couple of minutes CPS stood back and looked James up and down. "Such a fine-looking boy, isn't he, Jolyon?"

The wine had given me courage. "Yes he is, sir and he is my best friend."

"Well, I envy you!" Then he addressed James. "Dear boy, it's so warm. What a sensible idea to wear shorts this afternoon."

"It wasn't his idea," I said, to save James from saying it himself.

CPS burst into laughter, very loud laughter that had people looking at us. They'd have seen James frantically pulling with his free hand on the hems of his micro-shorts, action which merely served to emphasise the bareness of his lovely thighs.

At last it was all over and the guests departed. The caterers cleared everything up and left. It was nearly six o'clock. James and I loosened our collars.

"The grown-ups are off to the pub," said James. "They wanted us to go but the thought of wearing this bloody suit in full view of strangers is too much so I said we'd stay here. Okay with you?"

"Of course. If you can bear to wear it just a bit longer we could go to the summer house. I managed to hide some wine there."

"You'd do anything to get a grope, Jols," said James, smiling sincerely for the first time in hours. "First I've got to loosen my bloody braces. I've been in agony. Hold my jacket, please."

"I've had a lot to drink," said a jacketless James, as we walked to the summer house.

"So've I," I said, wondering if our state of mild intoxication might lead to the erosion of inhibitions. To some extent it did.

"It's a pity you weren't in shorts," said James. "Cos if you were, that foul CPS would have seen your fantastic legs and you might have had him groping you instead of me."

"Christ! Did he grope you today? "

"Yeah but not in the usual way. Come behind the summer house and I'll show you."

This sounded intriguing.

There was a wooden ladder leaning against the back wall of the summer house. James approached it and began to climb it but then stepped down and stood on the grass.

"To get the full effect I'd better tighten the braces again," he said. "Would you do the honours?"

I did the honours.

"Tighter, please, it's not hurting enough yet."

I made the braces as tight as I could and James winced in pain. Then he put on his jacket and spoke.

"You know the trellis by the French windows, the one with climbing roses? Well, a branch had come off the top of the trellis and my father asked me to cut it off so it wouldn't fall down and strangle one of the ladies so I had to go up a step ladder with some secateurs."

James climbed five rungs up the ladder. I said I expect there were several people watching him.

"Yeah and one of them was CPS. Someone said the step ladder looked a bit wobbly so CPS said he'd hold me to stop me falling. You can guess where he put his hands.

"On your thighs?"

"No, on my bum! You try it. Put your hands on my bum to stop me falling off."

I reached up and put my hands on that part of his bottom covered by his micro-shorts. With the braces so tight and him up the ladder, there was a lot of bare bottom on display.

"No, Jols, he didn't do that - he put his bloody hands inside my shorts. Try it."

So I pushed my hands inside his shorts which were so capacious I could easily get both hands in. Now I was clasping the crown of each glorious buttock. His skin was warm and smooth.

"That's it, Jols, That's what he did and it was really horrible. Those huge, hairy hands on my bare bottom - and with people watching! You can take your hands out now, I'm coming down."

In the summer house, braces now loosened again, James poured us each a glass of wine.

"I wanna get out of this suit as soon as possible but I've got another experiment for you first. Now you can act the part of the Rashleigh Runt. You sit on the bench and I'll stand on it. Then imagine you're a little kid who wants to slide his fingers inside my shorts and see how far you can get them."

I did as instructed and my fingers slid easily inside James's shorts to tickle his bottom and then at the front, to feel his strange little briefs and the package they contained. I gave a little squeeze and then withdrew. James stepped off the bench, drank some wine and sat beside me.

"Did you enjoy that?" he asked.

"No, not really. It felt like I was torturing you by simulating some of the horrible things that happen to you."

"I thought as much, Jols. You haven't even got a hard-on. Look, the grown-ups won't be back for a while. This is the last time I'll ever have to wear these bloody micro-shorts and I want to celebrate. A bit more wine and then you can give me a proper grope and we'll both get hard-ons."

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