A Boy Named James,

by Jolyon Lewes

Chapter 17

May 1965 (continued)

On the way home from the tennis tournament Mr Ellis lit his pipe and kept saying how proud he was of James's performance that day. His wife spoke about the Rashleighs and what a nice family they were and how Sarah would make such a good match for James, not only on the tennis court but as a potential wife, remarks that had James glancing at me with a look that said 'over my dead body.'

"Such a lovely evening," said Mrs Ellis, "I think we'll sit in the garden and have some Pimms so you won't need to change, James. In fact, Jolyon thinks it would be a good idea for you to wear those shorts tomorrow."

That got me blushing and James looked at me but instead of daggers I got a sexy wink. What could it mean?

Even at 8.00pm it was so warm in the garden that in my dark-grey school trousers I almost felt jealous of James in his shorts, looking magnificent and no longer self-conscious but relaxed.

I'd spent ten solid hours looking at his fantastic legs and that part of his bottom that was bared by his extraordinary little shorts, especially the latest pair that Linda had starched for him. This he noted when at last we went upstairs to bed.

Lying on his bed with his knees up he said "Jols, you've been looking at me all day but so far you haven't touched me. Do you want that grope you've been waiting for? Be careful, cos I'm a bit tipsy."

Gladly did I accept his invitation and with both hands I stroked his left thigh, one hand at the front and the other at the back. He smiled at me. He must have known how much I wanted him.

"I wanna hug," said James, releasing himself from my hands and standing up. His shorts had long ago lost their starchiness and the hems had somehow climbed even further up his lovely bottom. At the front they were struggling to contain his erection.

"If you wear those shorts all summer you'll end up with a tan-line halfway up your bottom!" I said.

"So is that why you want me to wear them tomorrow?" said James. "You'll be in for more treats if I do, you naughty boy."

The boy was positively flirting with me and I loved it!

We stood facing each other and had a proper hug. In the way he had of calling the shots, it was he who chose when to finish the hug and he did it by kissing my forehead and taking his hands off me. This was wonderful but we'd soon be back at school, obliged to meet only in the company of others, thereby losing the opportunity for gropes and hugs and, of course, kissing and anything else. Young Jack would be a poor substitute for James.

In only a few weeks I'd be leaving school for ever and when would I get to see James again? Clearly, if I wanted sex I had to make hay while the sun was shining, always assuming James was willing and judging by his flirtatious behaviour in his bedroom, he was more than willing.

Monday morning and the sun was shining. James obligingly wore those tiny tennis shorts again, with a pale blue polo shirt. He looked utterly scrumptious. After breakfast his mother informed us that the village had a new vicar whose teenage son enjoyed playing tennis so she'd invited him to come after lunch for a game with James.

"How old is he, Mama?" said James, not looking best pleased.

"Sixteen and his name is Sam."

James addressed me. "You don't want to spend all day in long trousers, Jolyon so I'll lend you some nice blue shorts and you can be ball boy." Once again he was calling the shots.

"Splendid idea, James," said Mrs Ellis. "You have fine legs, Jolyon, so why not show them off? James, take him upstairs now and find something suitable. "

I knew I was blushing. Yet again I was to be forced into shorts and had no doubt they'd be humiliatingly brief. My tummy was in knots as I followed James to his bedroom.

"Why did you look grumpy when your mother mentioned the vicar's son?"

"Because I thought he might be another of those brats like the Rashleigh Runt but at sixteen he might be alright."

The only blue shorts James had were prickly rugby shorts and I said I couldn't possibly wear them.

"I'm glad you said that," he said. "You'd look much cuter in tennis shorts. Here's a clean pair."

Five minutes later I was dressed like James, although the polo shirt was a shade darker than his. I knew what his mother would say when we'd gone downstairs.

"Oh, how sweet - twin brothers again!"

There was no point in my being embarrassed. She'd seen me in James's little shorts before and I was quite flattered that she liked my legs. At least my bottom wasn't peeping out of the shorts, unlike James's. The next task she set us was refreshing the white lines on the grass court. James filled the lining machine with white gooey stuff and we took it in turns to work it. When that was over it was time for a salad lunch in the kitchen.

Sitting beside James at the table I felt his hand land on my bare thigh just as I was beginning a conversation with the housekeeper. The hand moved slowly to the top of my thigh and gave a gentle squeeze to my rapidly-stiffening willy.

"A touch of CPS for you, Jolyon," said James.

"Come again, dear," said his mother.

"Just a private joke, Mama. What time are we expecting Sam?"

"Two o'clock."

"An hour's time. I can hear the summer house calling." He patted my thigh.

We sat on the bench outside the summer house. "This is the life," said James, "sitting in the sun with you, no parties to go to, just the vicar's son coming round for a quick knock-up."

"I wonder what he's like," said I.

"Probably quite hairy," said James.

"What, like Sarah Rashleigh? She of the hirsute legs?"

"Does hirsute mean hairy? I'd rather you didn't mention her name, Jols, at least not in front of my mother. She wants to do some matchmaking."

"Don't you like Sarah?"

"She scares me. She keeps saying I'm cute and she's so much bigger and stronger than me and more manly, if you see what I mean."

"Yes, I do. At that prize-giving I thought she was going to lift you off your feet and twirl you round. Very scary. Any chance of a grope?"

"Not now, Jols, let's wait till Sam's gone. Back to school tomorrow so this is our last night together. I feel like losing some of my inhibitions. You've got smashing legs, you know but I wish they didn't have those tiny little hairs."

Sam arrived at 2 pm, dressed immaculately for tennis. His shorts, at 4" inside leg, were much longer than ours. He was tall, slim and dark-haired and on his arms and legs grew dark hairs. In that respect he looked older than both James and me but turned out to be only fifteen. He was, however, charming and polite and played some good tennis, while I acted as occasional ball boy, retrieving only those high balls that disappeared into the borders that surrounded, at some distance, the court.

Afterwards James went to bring some lemonade and Sam came up to me for a word.

"James is really good at tennis, isn't he?"

"Yes, he won a tournament yesterday and he's in the school first team."

"I'm new here so it would be nice if I could make friends with a boy my age, like James."

"Well, he and I are at boarding school so he's only here during the holidays but I'm sure he'd like to see you then, for more tennis. He's seventeen, actually, not fifteen."

"Gosh, he doesn't look that old! Why does he wear such tiny shorts? When he bends over to pick up a ball you can see half his bottom!"

"Yes, I know, and so does he. At school he wears slightly longer shorts, for decency's sake but at home he wears shorts he's had for ages because his mother's very thrifty and makes him wear them till they've worn out."

"Poor James, he must get very embarrassed."

"Yes, he does, very much, so don't mention it to him."

James had put the lemonade in the summer house and was walking towards us. As if on cue he had both hands tugging down on the hems at the rear of his shorts. He stopped doing it when he realised we were watching him.

"See what I mean?" I whispered to Sam, whose shorts, I noticed, had suddenly become well-tented. 'He's another one of us,' I thought.

We three sat on the summer house bench, drinking lemonade. The contrast between Sam's slender, hairy thighs and James's hairless and much broader ones was profound. I hoped it wouldn't be too long before I got my hands on the latter pair and I was relieved when Sam said he had to go home. He was still nursing an erection.

"Nice boy," said James, "I wouldn't mind getting to know him."

"I think he's taken to you. He'd be nice company for you during the holidays."

"Absolutely! I like that idea. But now we're alone, Jols, what about a bit of serious groping? I want to get something from my bedroom so stay here."

I found myself getting excited. What did James mean by 'serious groping'? He soon returned, carrying a bottle of wine and something in a brown paper bag.

"Some chilled white wine and I even remembered the corkscrew," he said, smiling broadly. "Now let's have a grope!

"What's in the bag?"

"Wait and see!"

My willy was rigid before we'd even sat down and James's followed suit before I'd completed one stroke of his left thigh.

"My turn," he demanded, yet again calling the shots. He put his hand on my right knee and gently moved it up my thigh. "My shorts really suit you, you sexy thing!"

"This is going to get exciting," I said, feeling the first signs of breathlessness as he repeated the process..

"Yeah, time to take our shorts off. We don't want to mess them up."

He stood up and with some difficulty, pulled off his very tight shorts.

"Come on, get 'em off!" he said.

"But I thought you didn't like mutual wanking," I said.

"I don't, so we'll keep our briefs on and won't have to touch each other's things. We can just do some groping and let nature take its course."

"But we might mess our briefs."

"Yeah, that's the plan! I've got spares in my bag and little towels for mopping up operations. Now get 'em off! "

With no shorts on, our bottoms were entirely bare, owing to the thong-like form of the tiny briefs. We stood facing each other, arms around each other's waist, our pelvises thrusting. Then James moved his hands onto my bottom and aided the thrusting movements. The feel of his hands on my buttocks was out of this world.

"Grab my bum!" he cried, so I put my hands on the firm, silky-smooth and substantial mounds that were his glorious buttocks and pulled him towards me.

"Oh, I like it!" he grunted.

I knew I was close to spurting but managed to hold off a little longer to prolong the exquisite feeling of clutching the bottom I'd so long lusted after. I doubt whether James had ever lusted after my bottom but his hands felt wonderful as he drew my loins against his.

We reached climax simultaneously. The thrusting eased and we just held each other. Then James kissed my forehead and we let go of each other.

"Let's get these filthy things off ," said James, easing his sticky briefs slowly down his thighs. "No peeping!"

We turned away from each other to mop up the semen with the little towels and then James handed me a clean pair of tiny briefs.

"What about you?" I asked.

"You've got the last clean pair. I'll go commando." His shorts were so tight he was able to keep his balls and now flaccid willy well contained. Now each back in tennis shorts we sat next to each other and drank wine.

"Yours are the only hands I want touching my body," said James

"What, not CPS's or Sarah's?" I said, mainly in jest.

"Certainly not Sarah's! I'd rather have the Runt's! If he wasn't so vile he'd be quite cute."

I put my free hand on James's thigh. "I'd better get some more practice then."

"You can get some later, at bedtime but nothing like we've just done cos my parents might hear."

"We won't be able to do it at school, either," I said sadly.

"There will be times, Jols, don't you worry."

From that moment when James and I looked at each other the look tended to linger. We looked deeply into each other's eyes, even if people might notice. It was the look of love and we never needed to say the word love, as our feelings were implicit in the affectionate looks we exchanged.

For the rest of the day, with James in those ridiculous little tennis shorts, knowing that he had on no underwear made me desire him even more. He had that look of vulnerability, just as at the prize-giving and at Joan's birthday party. I wondered if Sam had had similar thoughts; maybe he'd be thinking of James during his next wank.

At bedtime I was permitted another groping session but we did it quietly and it was nothing like the activity we'd so enjoyed in the summer house. Nonetheless, it was lovely and we spent ages just looking wordlessly at each other.

Next day James was in grey cord shorts until it was time for us to change into school uniform for the train back to school. Even though I wasn't allowed to have James in my room I knew I'd have endless opportunities to admire his beautiful body, albeit at a distance, mainly on the tennis courts.

But how were we to meet after the school holidays began Where would I be after September?.What if I once again failed to make it to university? So many imponderables. I'd just have to make the most of the few weeks left of the summer term. I knew we loved each other and that he'd said mine were the only hands he wanted touching his body. It was the best feeling in the world.

Talk about this story on our forum

Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.

[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]

* Some browsers may require a right click instead