Just One of Those Days, but It Got Better
by N Fourbois
Part 6
Nick speaking. Finally, the family was sitting round the kitchen table having tea. Simon looked tired, but it was a healthy tiredness. The fresh air had done him a lot of good. Tired or not, we couldn't stop him talking about what he'd done at camp and I knew it could only be half the story for he never mentioned sex once and knowing his motive for going on the camping weekend, I was certain it had to be, as I said, just half the story. He was excused chores after supper. I didn't mind doing it all myself. I'd do anything for Simon and he did spend the time sorting out his kit and putting his dirty stuff into the washing machine. He sidled up to me and whispered "I'll come and tell you the rest at bedtime."
I have just survived the most excruciatingly boring weekend imaginable. No brother at home, Mum and Dad had decided on a big gardening weekend and all my friends off for the bank holiday doing things with their families. School on Tuesday couldn't come soon enough. I was so sex-starved that I would even have hung out with Aaron Berstead, had he been at home. I could have spent seventy-two hours staring at his bollocks. That would have been more interesting than my actual weekend.
The weekend had given me time to think. I was going through a period of intense horniness. Every attractive boy would turn my head, and some of the not quite so attractive ones too. I was even lusting over our straight guys. The feeling came over me when Simon was around, and Tony and Natt, Mr Timmis just made me melt, and now I was beginning to fancy Eddie Francis, something which was not in the least bit helped by what Simon was to tell me about their camping weekend. I just felt happy that I realised what was happening to me and I countered it by concentrating on my schoolwork. I'm not saying it worked, just that it spared me from having any extra earache from Mum and Dad at home and from my masters at school.
So I was looking forward to an early night and curling up on my bed listening to Simon and the clandestine goings-on at camp.
I said good night to Mum and Dad and went up to get ready for bed. I was lying on my bed dressed in just a pair of boxers leafing through the current issue of GY mag yearning for a paragraph I had not already read, including the adverts and the personal columns, when there was a soft tap at the door. "Come in," I said, thinking it was Mum, but no. The door opened a crack, a blond head of tousled hair, apparently disembodied, made its appearance and sweetly asked if he could come in. "Sure," I answered and a bare chest above blue and white striped pyjama bottoms came through the door. "Your dick's hanging out."
"I know. It's hanging out on purpose. Anyway, you shouldn't be looking. People will start calling you gay."
"But I am gay and I like dick."
"You only like other people's dicks because yours is so small and stubby you can't make it hang out." I just couldn't stop myself from laughing. "Well, aren't you going to hug me? I know you want to."
"More than anything in the world. Come here, baby brother." He climbed up on the bed and we hugged and cuddled.
"Well, you know I wanted to seduce a straight boy?'"
"Yes."
"And you know I had the hots for Eddie Francis after the boxing championships?"
"Yes."
"Well, you'd never guess it in a thousand years, but I had to tent with him."
"Never. How did you swing that, you jammy little dodger?"
"Well, you know… skill," and he huffed on his fingernails and polished them on a lapel that was not there. "He is straight, you know," he said, but then lowered his voice to a whisper, "but he doesn't mind experimenting."
"So what did you get up to together?" Silence. "Si, what did you do?" His head had dropped, his eyes had closed and he was fast asleep. This was the first time I had ever had a lover go to sleep on me.
I went down and told Mum. "When he wakes up, we'll get him back to his own bed."
"It's not a problem. He can stay all night on mine. I'll get the duvet from his bed and cover him up and there's plenty of room left for me to get into bed."
"I don't know. Sometimes I worry and I don't know what to think about you two boys, Nick."
"And do you know, Mum? You might even be right. Good night," and she kissed me on the cheek.
The following morning on the way to the bus stop I got the lowdown on the happenings at camp. "And keep an eye out for Tom Longhope and Jerry Morrison," said Simon. "They're in Year 8 and…" Here he lowered his voice. "… do you know what? They're gay."
"No! How did you find that out?"
"We busted them during the wide game and they weren't even tenting together."
"Sounds as if they were," I giggled.
"Tom was sharing with Jamie Fisher."
"You'll have to point all these boys out to me, Simon. I don't really know who they are."
"Wait till lunchtime. We'll go in early and sit with them on the long tables and then you and Tony can come and sit with us."
We did as instructed. When we went into the dining hall there was Simon holding court, as it were, flanked by Natt and Eddie and, sitting on the opposite side of the long table, three junior boys I had seen around, but didn't really know and who were certainly B grade, if not A. Simon immediately made the introductions and it gave me an inner glow as he not only conveyed the esteem he held me in, but made me feel as if I were the 'godfather' of the school's gay community. And so we met Jamie, Tom and – yes, it just had to be – Jerry, which gave me the giggles and undermined any dignitas that Simon was trying to create. I don't know what Simon had been saying prior to our arrival, but we had to deal with three wide-eyed cuties, tongues metaphorically hanging out, staring at us – no, let's cut out the false modesty – staring at me throughout the meal. All and each contributed to this feeling of excess horniness I was experiencing and I could feel my 2(x)1st s were moist from my arousal.
Finally the first bell reminded us that that we had overstayed our time at lunch. "See ya after school, bro," Simon called out.
"What for?'
"Gym club, dummy."
"Of course, it's Tuesday. After the bank holiday it seems like Monday." Luckily I had my kit. Gym club like games and PE were not to missed as my contact modules with Mr Timmis were numbered.
Over the school year I had got into the habit of speaking to Mr Timmis after lessons and I had now reached the stage where I looked forward to our chats and I think he did, for he would never avoid me or try to get away. I used to make up things to talk about, but now the topics of our conversations came naturally. I think it started when he learned about the relationship between the Crokers and his fiancé Ben. Simon was with me when I went to his office after gym club. "Sir, I'm starting to grow out of my kit and I need some new gym shorts."
"I take it you're not after ordinary white shorts from Sports Direct then?"
"No, sir, I'd like some like yours. They look really professional."
"I've got some catalogues here and if I order them through my professional association, as I did with your comp tops, I can get a reduction." Simon and I looked at one of the booklets."
"I like the look of these."
"I think you'd look great in those, but you would have to dress properly. Comp top. No underpants, not a jockstrap even…" He suddenly stopped. "I'm not sure I should be talking to you like this." He paused. "Not to worry. We're all family after all and I won't be here after the end of term." That last sentence really struck home, but I kept it to myself at the time.
"Can I show this to my parents? I promise I'll give it back tomorrow when we have PE."
"Yes, that's fine, Nick." I'd noticed that. In lessons and in the corridor it was always 'Croker', but at gym club it was 'Nick' or 'Simon'.
"What was it at camp, Si?" I asked as we walked through the hospital grounds on our way to Mum and Dad's office.
"Christian names usually," he replied.
"And that was odd, what he said about us all being family."
"And not being there after the end of term. I could see that hurt you, Nicky."
"Oh, was it that obvious?" We changed the subject and soon arrived at the office.
I didn't think of that conversation any more. I returned the catalogue to Mr Timmis the next day and put an order in for me and Simon. Mum agreed to pay the Sports Direct price and we had to pay the remainder out of our own money. The following Saturday morning I hung out at Tony's place with Chas Bunsen. I still wanted someone to talk to, but I didn't think Chas was the right person. He might have more experience than us, but it was physical experience. As much as I liked Chas and the fact he would always give me a good rogering, he lacked wisdom and I couldn't help thinking of him as a rather amiable and sociable slut. However, one thing did come out in conversation, and that was that 'family' is used more by older queers about people who are gay. It dawned on me that Mr Timmis had made a rather bold and risqué remark. Not that it traumatised me. It was a sign of acceptance towards Simon and me and maybe, and here my thinking was breaking bounds, when the pupil-teacher relationship no longer exists, maybe we would be 'family'.
And so it quickly came round to the next gym club meeting. Our new shorts had arrived, but we couldn't pick them up until the end of the session, but it gave me an excuse to talk to Mr Timmis. I told Simon to wait for me. I had returned to the need to talk to someone. I'd considered Freddie Freeman, the sixth former at gym club I'd done stuff with, but then I'd been the master and he the pupil. I was going to bite the bullet. I knocked on the glass door of Mr Timmis's office. "I've got them here, Nick. There's an invoice made out to your parents inside."
"Thanks for getting them, sir." I hesitated. "Sir, I need to talk to you about something, er… something personal."
"Sit down, Nick," and he closed the glass door of his office.
"It's no secret that Simon and I are gay." I couldn't bring myself to add 'and so are you, sir', but that was the main reason why I chosen to talk to him. "We're both out. But at the moment I feel extremely…" I was trying to find another word, but couldn't. "… extremely… er, horny."
"In what way, Nick?"
"I keep getting erections all the time, more often than I used to, and nearly every boy I see I look at as a… well, I fancy him and want to do stuff with him. Doesn't matter whether he's gay or not and I'm scared I might do something rash."
"Have you talked about this sort of thing in PHSE?"
"Sort of, but very impersonally and not in detail. Like 'this sort of thing can happen, but it won't happen to you and so we don't have to deal with it'. But it is happening to me and I don't know how to deal with it. Even masturbation only works for an hour or so. Then I'm as randy as ever."
"Have you got any friends that can help you with this?"
"Well, yes, but only at weekends and in the holidays, but it's getting through school and trying to keep out of trouble. I don't want to be sent home."
"Has it affected your schoolwork?"
"No, quite the opposite because I am concentrating on it to stop me thinking of the other… Whoops, bad choice of words." I giggled nervously.
Mr Timmis thought for a moment. During the silence I couldn't keep my eyes off the shifting package in his gym shorts. I think he knew it too and was making no effort to make me divert my gaze. "First of all, you have done the sensible thing in coming to talk to someone. You have reached that age where there is a hormone storm raging inside your body. You're no different from other boys of your age except that your storm is raging more violently than in the others. Consider yourself lucky because you are not covered in zits, or even boils as I was at your age. You are good looking." Mr Timmis paused, subconsciously licking his lips when he had said that, and adjusted his crotch. I could feel my pants becoming moist, more than moist, damp, if not actually wet. "You've had no trouble with your voice breaking and your physical development is normal. You've got good attitudes. So many adolescents go round with a chip on their shoulder. You're doing the right thing. You're working hard. You might like to increase your physical activity which you can do this time of year with the long evenings." I smiled in appreciation. The Croker smile was my way of rewarding Mr Timmis. "Of course, if it really worries you, you could go to the doctor and he'll prescribe something akin to putting bromide in soldiers' tea to reduce their sex drive, but I advise against that. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred your body knows what it's doing and I am not in favour of chemical interference."
At that moment there was knock at the door. Through the glass wall I could see it was Mr Somerset, Mr Timmis's colleague. "I'm off home now, Adrian. See you tomorrow," he said through a half open door.
"Good night, Will. Thanks for your help." Mr Timmis stood up. "We'd better finish there."
"Thank you, sir. At least I know I'm not a freak."
"Oh, you're not a freak, Nick Croker." Then he added, almost sotto voce , "Oh no, you are no freak, my boy." Then louder "If you've got any more questions, come and ask them." I thought for a moment.
"Just one. That bromide thing with the soldiers' tea, how did it work?"
"It stopped them getting erections. Good night, Nick."
"Good night, sir."
When I got outside, I found Simon in the car park, talking to someone in a car. Getting closer, I could see it was Ben, our waiter. "Hi, Ben."
"Hi, Nick. Simon's been telling me you've been trying to seduce my fiancé."
"As if," I grinned.
"C'mon, Nicky, or we'll miss our bus."
"See ya, Ben."
"See ya, guys."
On the way home Simon started to talk to me about Friday. "Nick, you know we've got a non-uniform day?"
"Scrufti day?"
"Mufti day." I gave him a withering look. "Well, we've all agreed, unofficially of course," he whispered, "in Year 9 we've all decided we're not going to wear any underpants." I was ambivalent about scrufti day. "If anyone is found wearing any kind of undergarment, they've got to pay an extra pound to charity." Scrufti day brought with it scrufti attitudes. On the other hand it was a great day for boywatching and if Year 9 boys were not going to wear undies, wow! I might have to make an exception to my dislike. And anyway, it was all for charity and so it must be all right.
Wednesday afternoon we both caught the early bus home. Simon put the kettle on. We went upstairs to take off our school ties, blazers and shoes. Back in the kitchen I said "Simon, why are you staring at me like that?"
"Because your trouser bulge is bigger than I've ever seen it before. You ought to get Mum to buy a bigger pair."
"You shouldn't even be checking me out, you pervert. People will think you're a homosexual and then they'll think I'm one as well."
"Well, we are. So it doesn't matter. Why have you got such a big stiffie anyway?"
"I'm thinking."
"What about?"
"You don't want to know."
"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know."
"I was just wondering what it would be like to inseminate you very deep inside your bottom with a big squirt of my semen."
"Nicky, you know what it would be like. You've done it enough times before and why are you using such posh language?"
"I'm in a posh sort of mood." The kettle boiled. We ignored it.
"Do you want to find out?"
"How long till Mum and Dad get home?" I asked.
"Over an hour and a half."
"What about homework?"
"I haven't got much tonight."
"But you're not in the mood, Si? I can see that by your trousers."
"True, not at the moment, but by the time you've snogged me, gradually taken my clothes off and rubbed some of that cold gel stuff into my bottom, I might be." I went and put my key into the front door lock. "Do you want me to shower first?"
"No," I answered. "I want to take you as you are. We can shower afterwards. Your place or mine?"
"Yours, Nicky. I love that big bed of yours." His po-face finally broke and he started giggling uncontrollably. We left the kettle to cool down and disappeared up to my love nest.
I had a couple of days to think about what I was going to wear to school on Friday. I had plenty of ideas, but considered them too outrageous, even though I was out. On the other hand, if I wanted outrageous, I just had to wait and see what Tony Maltby turned up in, with a little help from his sister, no doubt. I quite fancied dressing as an emo boy, but with my short blond hair that wasn't practicable and it wasn't actually fancy dress day – not that it would worry Tony. I had one fantasy which we had discussed, but not the guts to do it, nor the gear, actually. In the end I was thoroughly unimaginative: Levi cut-offs held up with braces, which I thought quite daring, especially with a thong underneath which allowed quite a good view of my butt cheeks, should anyone be interested, a tight tank top and my rainbow wrist bands. I'm not sure that I gained Mum's total approval as she eyed both Simon and me up at breakfast. Dad just hid behind his newspaper. Simon was wearing his Ronan Parke moleskin trousers in blush and a short sleeve Hawaii shirt. I could tell by the way everything jiggled around inside the moleskins that he had been as good as his word. But then, I shouldn't be looking!
On the way to the bus stop I said to him "So what are you doing about games this afternoon?"
"It's athletics," said Simon. "So it should be quite interesting," and he giggled.
"Whose idea was this, anyway?" I asked, "not to wear undies?"
"Oh, just a group of us," he answered casually, "but since you ask, bro, my natural modesty will not permit me to deny that I happened to be the brains behind it."
"I might have known. Good job you didn't have cricket."
When we arrived at school and crossed the road to the school gates, I thought 'OMG, he's done it.' There was Tony, his hair combed up, in a blouse, tights and a miniskirt, and quite a gathering around him. I'll give the school authorities their due. They completely ignored him and so there was no fuss, no exclusion, no local newspaper reporter. It was the ultimate non-event. I think Tony was a bit disappointed.
After lunch a group of us promenaded round the fields with no other intention than to enjoy the fashion show. On coming out of the bogs I casually said to Simon "Bro, your dick's hanging out."
"Nicky, why don't you piss off? You're always saying that. It's getting to be a bit of an old chestnut." I smiled and held my peace while just then a couple of Year 7s walked past and started giggling. "Wodjoo larfin' at?" said Simon, still bad tempered after bollocking me, but they had gone past, still smirking over their shoulders by then. Then a couple of members of my tutor group walked past.
"Hi, Nick." They pointed and one said "Why's your baby brother flashing his dick?"
"I don't remember yours being as small as that when you were his age."
"And you should know," I replied. "You were always admiring it."
"You were bloody tight with it."
"I didn't even know you were gay."
"Just bi curious."
"If you wanted some, you only had to ask," I said. "You still do," I grinned. We were interrupted by a scream of pain from Simon. At last he'd discovered that he'd forgotten to zip up and with his wearing no undies there was nothing to prevent his dick from flopping out in its bid for freedom. In his panic he had forgotten the age old adage that you should tuck your todger away before applying the zip and he had caught some loose skin. The three of us just stood there killing ourselves with laughter while Simon pulled his zip back down, swiftly tucked his tool away and zipped up.
"At least the blood won't show on those red trousers," said one of my classmates. Simon, typically, looked down to search for the blood that wouldn't be showing. The other two moved on, laughing their heads off. "What a dork!"
"Hey, that's my boyf… er… my brother you're calling a dork," I retorted in mock protest. Whoops! Freudian slip. I put my arm round his shoulder and gave his nipple a gentle rub. "Hey, Si, I'll accept your apology in the spirit it was given.
"But I didn't ap…" He suddenly broke off. "Oh, I see what you mean."
"Exactly." He gave me a big hug and said
"Sorry, Nicky. I'll believe you next time," and the fact he was not wearing any undergear made it a rather special hug. I couldn't wait for us to get home that afternoon.
I shall never forget Year 10. Not only did it form a watershed in my life, but it also passed too quickly with that summer term slipping away even more so. It was the year when boyhood was rapidly coming to a close and manhood was taking over. Year 11 would be a serious affair with public examinations at the end of it. With my adolescence I had been one of the blessed and fortunately it looked as if that was going to be true about Simon as well. I had classmates who considered their puberty a weight on their shoulders, joyless and they were at odds at home and plagued with acne. Often puberty brings with it the zenith of a boy's beauty; likewise he can appear at his ugliest. Considering what Simon and I discovered about ourselves, then latterly what our parents learnt, for whom it must have been a burden, both of us apparently emerged unscathed, richer even, socially, emotionally, intellectually and in personality. Later it occurred to me that there had never been any blame culture within our family. Our parents were never ones to wring their hands and say 'What did we do wrong?'. All four of us acknowledged the future unlikelihood of a normal family life with children, but we were prepared to work on the positives even if it meant achieving a different form of happiness.
As I said, my head was pre-eminently occupied with the rapid passing of the summer term, with one particular thing in mind, the impending loss from my life of Mr Timmis. He had given me so much, not just the physical education he had taught me, including the tacit help with my sexuality, but also as a role model, a support, a like-mind, even an object of lust and imitation, all of which, despite the temptations of the flesh, he dealt with impeccably and professionally. I hope I gave him something in return, if only vocational satisfaction, but I suspect that inwardly he enjoyed the sight of my body. In my periods of introspection I gave thought to the people nearest and dearest to me in my life. I was not dismissing Mum and Dad although there is always the danger of taking them for granted. 'We decided to bring you into this world. Our love is unconditional and we ask nothing of you in return.' Not quite true. Unrequited love would have taken its toll, but there was no doubt in the love Simon and I returned. The people nearest and dearest to me, in reverse order as they say at the end of a contest: Nathan Tranter, Mr Timmis and at the top Simon, my brother, my soul mate, my lover and true boyfriend. What about Tony Maltby you might ask. Best mate, yes; we did stuff together, yes; but his interests lay elsewhere, not least of which was his relationship with his cousin Chas. I was about to say incestuous relationship with Charles Bunsen, but what could be more incestuous than what was thriving between Simon and me? I asked Simon the same question. Slightly different priorities and again in reverse order: Ben, Natt, Eddie the hetero and at the top me.
Fathers' Day was approaching. We didn't celebrate it. Usually Dad would sit hidden behind his newspaper and harrumph that it was an American commercial import and not worth his countenancing. This year was different and it was wholly according to Dad's own concept and organisation. It was going to be Father and Son's Day.
Mum said she needed to take Simon shopping for some clothes. He was growing fast, his school trousers were at half mast showing too much ankle (not to mention speedo tight, but that was my observation, not hers). Dad and I were going out for a 'bonding day', not that he would call it that. Luckily the weather was fine with the sun shining in a cloudless sky. We were going walking and we were both prepared for a day long hike. He told me very little about it and trustingly I sat in the car as we drove north and west into Mid-Wales. The River Severn is the longest river in Great Britain and we were going to climb to its source. We parked the car at the picnic site where the river first meets the road. The first part of the walk was flat, through an area fed by the various tributaries which required accurate map reading to make sure we were heading for the true source. The trail climbed through thick and humid forest until suddenly we were on the cool, treeless, grass covered hills with only sheep for company. Now there was only one unmistakable way to go. This was when Dad began to open up.
"Nick, I wanted this chance to talk to you… about everything and anything, but mainly about you and growing up. You might think that I don't take a lot of interest, that I'm just that silly old bugger that sits behind his newspaper and occasionally harrumphs. It's not that I'm not interested or don't know what's going on. Quite the opposite, in fact. It's because your mother is a super home-maker and I let her get on with what she's good at and proud to do. If you came and did some work experience in the company, you would see me very much in command, but at home your mother's in charge. That's her domain.
"However, you're coming to the time when we as parents, and more particularly me as your father, have to prepare you for being an adult, a male adult." We kept on climbing. The sun was reaching its zenith. The fresh breeze dried the sweat on our brows. "When you came out, of course it was a bit of a shock, but not a surprise. Your mother had her suspicions. Women know about that sort of thing. When Simon came out too, that strangely softened the blow rather than doubling it. In the autumn you're going to be sixteen and that will change things in your life. Not least it will legalise all the things you've been doing illegally. I don't want to dwell on that. I've always been content to harrumph behind my newspaper. You and Simon are entitled to your secrets and your privacy whatever the law might say. And talking about secrets and privacy I can tell you that when I was your age I was not entirely innocent in my relationships with other boys, though it was what they called a 'phase' and since meeting your mother I've never looked back."
"It's just that with Simon and me we don't think it's a phase."
"Quite probably. We've accepted that and only time will tell."
"Dad, you know that I adore Simon, don't you? And not just in a brotherly way, but emotionally, physically and…" I hesitated. "er… sexually, and I know he loves me in the same way."
"As I said, you are entitled to your secrets, but actually keeping them from your mother is an entirely different matter. I won't say we approve, but we try not to disapprove."
"But you must disapprove by the very fact you say you try not to."
"Nick, you are so acute. Let's just say we don't disapprove and leave it at that."
We carried on climbing and stopped at the fenced planks which crossed the stream destined to become a mighty river. This makeshift span counted as the first bridge on the River Severn.
First Bridge over the River Severn © N Fourbois
"If you two boys want to sleep together, do so by all means, but don't forget that what happens in the bedroom, remains in the bedroom, especially as Simon's still got nearly two years to go until he's sixteen." I blushed, but Dad made no comment.
The ground ahead of us was flattening out. Reaching the plateau, we could see pools formed in the peat. An old fashioned iron signpost announced the 'Source of the Severn'. "Well, this is it," said Dad. "Not as impressive perhaps as clear water welling up as a spring out of the ground. Five miles over there is the source of the River Wye and they won't meet again until Chepstow. The Wye takes a short cut." We sat down and decided to eat our packed lunch that Mum had made for us.
"So, Nick, how's school going?"
"It's going. Good and bad."
"Let's have the good news first."
"Works going really well and I'm getting good marks."
"I'm pleased to hear that. The bad news?"
"Two things. School exams in a fortnight and because I've got something to prove, I want to do really well."
"And what's that?"
"With our coming out and all that, that I can handle my homosexuality without it affecting my work."
"You're a thoughtful boy, Nicky."
"Daad!"
"Wot?"
"Only Simon calls me Nicky!"
"Sor-ree."
"That's okay. Just don't do it again," and I gave him one of my Croker super-smiles usually reserved for Mr Timmis.
"You said two bad things. What's the other?"
"Mr Timmis is leaving at the end of term. He's got a new job at another school, a bigger one, and he's getting married. He's helped me a hell of a lot this year. I really love my gymnastics."
"Perhaps the new teacher will be just as good."
"Just as good? Maybe, but he won't be the same."
We tidied up after finishing our picnic and made our way down the valley. The sun was still hot, made bearable by the breeze which blew across the treeless grass. Once we were back in the forest the air was still and humid. It was easy to go with the flow and find our way back to the picnic site. We got there just after six. We took our walking boots off and changed into our trainers. Dad tried to phone home, but there was no signal. "Okay," said Dad, "next priority is to find a pub that does grub on a Sunday evening." After we had finished dinner we made our way homewards, arriving just as it was getting dark. Simon ran to greet me and gave me a great big hug.
"He's been wandering around like a bear with a sore head without you here," remarked Mum. We all sat round the kitchen table over cocoa and biscuits before Dad and I went for a shower and got ready for bed. Mum and Simon were impressed at how suntanned we both were with a healthy glow. We talked about how we hadn't met a single person once we'd left the picnic site and eventually, unable to keep my eyes open any longer, I said good night, thanked Dad for a super day and went upstairs.
I must have fallen asleep straightaway for the next thing I knew the alarm was beeping and there was a warm naked body sleeping next to me. I reached across, kissed Simon and gave his balls a playful squeeze. Then I felt the stickiness in his groin. "Simon, you haven't had a wank in my new bed, have you?" He smiled his sweet smile, looked at me with those big, melting sapphire eyes and answered
"No, of course not, Nicky," and he blushed deep red. As he did, I began to grow aware of a cold wet stickiness between my butt cheeks. Now it was slowly dawning on me what had happened. I pulled the duvet back and the undeniable evidence was there on the bedsheet, the wet sticky remains of semen spilt from Simon's loins.
"Simon! You raped me in the middle of the night while I was asleep!"
"That's not really true. You know what you say to me about those times when your brain leaves your head and goes to between your legs? I had one of those moments. I did ask and you did say yes, but you didn't wake up. Probably because I was ever so gentle. And it wasn't in the middle of the night. It was about half an hour ago and I couldn't reach the tissues across your body. You're not angry with me, are you, Nicky? I wouldn't be angry with you, if you did it to me," he pleaded.
"I could never be angry with you, Si." I gave him a reassuring kiss. "But I am cross because I obviously missed out on a really fantastic f**k. Early bus home tonight? It's payback time." At that moment there was a knock on the door and Mum's voice said
"You boys had better get up pretty quickly or you'll be late for school."
As we got out of bed, I had morning wood, but Simon's elephant's trunk was swinging freely between his legs. It occurred to me that I had never seen it looking so big in a flaccid state before. I wasn't cross with Simon, just very, very proud of him.
Oddly enough, although my body felt heavy and tired, mentally, I was as bright as a button. The away day had obviously done a lot of good. On the way to the bus stop I told Simon about some of the things Dad and I had talked about, but not everything. I didn't say anything about our sleeping together; it would still be a risky adventure, at least for Simon. I did tell him that we had gone skinny-dipping in the pool at the Hafren Falls. "Wot, with Dad?"
"Yeah, sure. It's all about this man-bonding thing."
"And you er… saw his willie?"
"Yees."
"And he saw yours?"
"Yees, not much different from Mr Timmis seeing it when we shower at school."
"And what's it like?"
"Pretty much the same as yours and mine, which is logical seeing as he's our father. Must say I do think he wanted to know why I shaved my pubes, but then he probably just put it down to a gay thing."
"And you never know, he might be right," added Simon.
"I must admit when I saw his willie it knocked me out to think that sixteen years ago I had emerged from it and also I did wonder which testicle had produced the sperm that eventually became me."
"Spooky," said Simon. We'd reached the bus stop.
At school we got down to work under the threat of the approaching exams. You can only take so many revision classes. At break Tony said to me "Nick, are you coming back to my place for some PHSE revision after school?"
"Not today, if you don't mind. I still feel knackered after yesterday. I'd rather get home." Of course this answer was true, but it was not the whole truth. Not only was I on a promise from Simon, but do you remember my saying that Year 10 was a watershed in my life? Perhaps a more precise observation would have been that yesterday was the exact date. Dad had made me think. Even sorting through a list of the people around me made me realise that Tony was becoming superfluous to my sexual life. I had learnt as much as I could from him, or to put it another way, our PHSE project was now complete. Simon and I had carte blanche to develop our relationship. Don't get me wrong. I was not about to dump him. Tony and I would continue to be mates at school, do odd things together at weekends and in the holidays, but notice I said 'things' and not 'stuff', and I think we had tacitly both come to this understanding.
However, fortunately or unfortunately, depending on my mood and perspective, there was no decrease in the intensity of my esteem for Mr Timmis. I had to enjoy his company while it was still available, and yet at the same time wean myself off the crush I had on him. The counterpart in Simon was his relationship with Ben.
Exams were now over and we had the results to wait for and the giving back of the papers. That apart, school was more relaxed and we, more correctly I, could look forward to two more PE lessons, two more games sessions and two meetings of gym club. PE lessons were spent in the swimming pool with the advantage of the class dressing in regulation speedos and the disappointment of Mr Timmis not doing so. These periods were time for some retrospection. I stared at Aaron Berstead's balls, and he knew it, I boywatched Tony Maltby, but they were no longer good looking boys, but fair looking young men, youths at best. Their beauty and sexual attraction had peaked at some moment during Year 10, never, at least as far as I was concerned, to return. Aaron's balls were a museum piece, sex with Tony a historical event. Not that the foregoing meant that I could not appreciate an attractive adolescent among my peers when I spotted one, but that was more probably an aesthetic reaction rather than an erotic one. Puberty had changed the shape of their shorts and speedos, some for the better, some for the worse. Full grown genitals could be so inelegant if not carefully and caringly packaged, while others sported bulges where in Year 9 there had been none.
At the end of that week Simon persuaded Dad that we should celebrate his birthday at the Dog & Duck on the Saturday evening with the ulterior motive of finding out when Ben's last weekend at work would be and that date was firmly fixed on the family calendar. At that time of year it was light until ten o'clock and we were able to enjoy a colourful sunset while we were eating our meal. Dad in his typical way was not slow to point out the irony of the family inviting him out for a celebration dinner while he had to foot the bill at the end of it. For appearance's sake, however, it was Mum's card that went into the machine to pay it. Simon and I promised that we would pay when we started earning and Dad questioned whether he would still be alive on that day.
After we had finished our puddings, Simon took his customary 'comfort break' to chat to Ben our waiter. He certainly took longer than usual. I could swear that a tear was running down his cheek when he returned with Ben. One thing you could never accuse Simon of was being a cry baby, even from the earliest days that I was conscious of having a brother. I wondered whether I would be the same when I said goodbye to Mr Timmis. In front of the family Simon booked our table on Ben's last night and said that he and I would be there, "even if our parents can't make it."
Finally we left. Walking to the car, I put my arm round Simon and fingered his nipple through his shirt. I instinctively knew that we would be going to bed in our own rooms that night, but waking up in mine in the morning. Mum and Dad were on coffee and biscuits duty at church and so we would be encouraged to stay at home. I think Mum felt an obligation to keep an eye on us since the 'choirboy in the vestry' incident, which she couldn't do if she was serving coffee. Simon confided to me that it was very satisfying seducing a choirboy because it was one of the clichés of being gay which rarely had any bearing in reality, but in his case did.
I was right. On Sunday morning I woke to find Simon beside me asleep with his arm wrapped round my shoulders. We hadn't made love, well, not at that point, and there was no hurry since Mum and Dad would be at church for two hours or more. Simon still had his pyjama bottoms on, which was one pair of pyjama bottoms more than I had. Typical Simon though, with morning wood sticking out. I resisted all temptation and left it alone.
We got up at eleven and showered. It was another warm summer's day and so we decided to dress accordingly. Oh, by the way, in case you're interested, and I know some of you are, I topped Simon that morning and I shot my load so hard that I expected my spunk to dribble from his throat and into his mouth. Now we've got that out of the way… where was I? Oh, yes, we decided to dress in just our PE shorts and trainers. We were going to kick a football about in the garden, but before we did, I wanted to check something on the net. I wanted to give Mr Timmis a little farewell gift as a sign of my appreciation for his being such a good teacher. I'd found just what I wanted. A pair of cufflinks designed with a double male symbol entwined. "Hey, Si, come and take a look at this." He came into my room and leaned over my shoulder. Despite what we'd done together only an hour ago, his breath on my ear and neck aroused me and inside my thong and very short PE shorts my dick had such little room for manœuvre. I persevered and concentrated, and what's more succeeded, but wondering whether I would ever again be able to wear a clean set of clothes with Simon around. "This is just the thing to give Mr Timmis as a leaving present. How about if you did the same for Ben? Then they'd have a matching pair."
"Is that cool or is that cool?" said Simon. "How much are they?" I pointed at the price on the screen. "You know, Ben's worth every penny of that, and more. Are you ordering, bro?"
"I'm ordering."
"Then get a pair for me," and the naughty little brat nibbled my ear with his lips, licked it and ran his finger round my left nipple before standing up. When Mum and Dad got home from church, we were innocently playing football in the back garden.
At last the final Friday of term came. The cuff links had arrived on Wednesday. The following Sunday evening we would be eating out at the Dog & Duck and saying goodbye to Ben. We rarely went away during the summer holidays as the office staff took their annual leave then and someone had to stay behind to 'look after the shop'. What you never have you never miss and we enjoyed getting away to the sun when there was very little here. One or two things had taken place at school in the meanwhile.
During the last week lessons were notional, little annoyances which filled in the rare gaps between the social, sporting and cultural events. Mum and Dad managed to get away to attend Sports Day. They watched Simon win the 100 and 200 metre sprints in his age group and me winning the 1500 metre race. I had already won the 5000m race on Monday when the heats for other events were held. It would have lasted too long for Sports Day itself. They couldn't make the swimming gala as well. Both Simon and me did well in that too, but for the two of us the races became secondary to the excellent opportunities for the boywatcher and you didn't have to be homosexual to be found checking out the other boys in their speedos. Reminiscing I stared at Aaron Berstead's balls and had no difficulty in appreciating why Simon found Eddie Francis so attractive. I cheered Nathan Tranter on in his events even though he wasn't in the same house as Simon and me. Ronan Webster easily won the 'biggest bulge in his shorts' event, not bad for a Year 7 boy, and I am sure the cheers he received were not for any prowess on track or field, but rather for his participation in the 'Behind the Bike Shed Olympics'.
Simon shaved his pubic stubble the next morning in preparation for the swimming gala and nearly made us miss the bus. Just imagine it when I'd finally got to my tutor room. My form tutor, Mr Baxendale, would fix me with a stony stare. The rest of the group would sit up in utter silence anticipating the gratuitous entertainment at my expense. 'Good afternoon, Croker. To what do we owe the late pleasure of your company?' 'Sorry, sir, I missed the bus.' 'And did it happen to leave early this morning, Croker?' 'I can't tell you, sir, because I missed it.' A snigger from certain classmates who thought my answer would be taken as impertinence. It was. 'Croker, in your present situation it might be advisable to show some contrition rather than play to your friends in the gallery. And why, pray, did you miss the bus?' 'I was waiting for my brother, sir.' 'And what was Croker minor doing which was so important that he delayed you, Croker major?' 'He was shaving his pubic hair in preparation for the swimming gala… sir…' at which there would be an explosion from the rest of the class as it dissolved into mirth. Fortunately we did catch the bus… just, but I had seen Mr Baxendale take other boys apart in a similar, very quiet manner and must confess to enjoying their discomfort.
By the way, did I tell you that I had stopped shaving my pubes off completely? No? I was trying my hand at simple topiary. Topiary? That's when you try to train a bush by trimming it into a recognisable shape, usually a bird or an animal. I was trying to shape my pubes into a moustache, like a Hitler moustache, but a bit longer, a rectangle like the one on the star of one of my fave porno movies. It's been taken down now unfortunately. Where was I?
Ah, yes, swimming gala and boywatching. It was fun seeing how the senior boys had developed over the years I had known them. Some were hairy monsters, others were Adonises, few had retained the adolescent beauty that had attracted me to them as a junior. Then there was the potential of the present juniors to be watched and appreciated as they grew. Who were the gayboys of the future among them? They probably didn't even know themselves yet.
Wednesday afternoon was given over to the First XI versus a Staff XI twenty overs cricket match. The school play was on Wednesday and Thursday evenings – we went on Thursday – and finally on Friday Speech Day and the end of term. At tea afterwards I found Simon, then made it my business to search out Mr Timmis in the marquee. I needed Simon for moral support. I felt sad inside, but the events of the past few days had put me in good heart and I was stronger than I expected to be.
"Sir, I just wanted to say goodbye and wish you all the best in your new job." I really meant 'in your new married life', but couldn't bring myself to saying it without sounding rude. "Thank you for all the help you've given me in gym. I loved every minute and I… er, we…" I suddenly remembered Simon. "… we wanted to give you a little farewell gift." I handed him a packet. It consisted of a square greetings card with a bulge for the cufflinks box wrapped cheekily in rainbow paper and tied with pink ribbon. I thought long before choosing the wrapping, but dammit, we knew we were both gay, especially considering the contents. Simon in his perceptive way judged the emotion of the moment and subtly withdrew to the background. He would have his moment with Ben on Sunday.
"Nick, this is such a surprise and so kind of you. I always enjoyed teaching you and you were such a receptive pupil. Thank you for the present. You won't mind if I don't open it here. I don't want it to go missing." I think he thought it could be something embarrassing like a packet of condoms or one of my old jockstraps. He could see my sad face. "Don't be so downhearted, Nicky… sorry, Nick."
"I let the special people in my life call me Nicky. Only Simon calls me that, but I don't mind if you do as well, sir. In fact, I'd really rather like it if you did, sir."
"I'm not your teacher any more. You don't have to call me 'sir' now. As I said, don't be downhearted… er, Nicky." He had hesitated. "We'll meet each other again, I'm sure." We shook hands and I disappeared to prevent myself from dissolving into tears in public. Why did he stroke the palm of my hand?
I'm pleased I had Simon there. He was such support and strength. He still had his farewells to come and I hoped I would be there for him if he needed me.
The following morning, such an uninspiring day, was my personal Friday the 13 th, on a Saturday this time. The day after the end of term always is. This one seemed more of an anticlimax than usual. Even Simon had temporarily lost his bounce and, believe it or not, we didn't even do any stuff together. Our mood even got through to Mum, and lacking her normal understanding, she nagged "I'm not having you two boys mooning around like this for six weeks. You'd better find yourselves something to do." The word 'mooning' might have raised a titter from Simon, but indicatatively didn't on this occasion. Not that she would anyway for she would be at work. Sometimes Mum and Dad found us jobs to do at the office to fill in for staff on holiday, which was always fun and meant we earnt a little extra pocket money. This summer we found this really camp guy working there and because we were out and Jeremy was out, that made it greater fun. But I'm running ahead of myself for we still have Sunday dinner at the Dog & Duck.
Sunday seemed such a long day. Mum and Dad took us to church. It was time we made an appearance. I sat there contentedly boywatching the choirboys, one in particular who had been singing for years, blond hair in loose curls and a wicked smile. He had survived his change of voice and was now in the back row of the choir stalls singing bass. I had no reason to think he was gay, but I lived in hope. I yearned to get my hand inside his cassock, but then I yearned… I knew him slightly from when we joined in with the choirboys' games of football, but he went to a different school.
Simon was a different matter. He was completely hyper. He couldn't keep still and though he paid the choirboys some attention, he wasn't concentrating on anything. In any social situation it is bad enough having to be spoken to by Mum, but this morning he was spoken to twice with the intimation that the evening's dinner could be cancelled as he obviously wasn't able to behave properly in public. Dad then harrumphed and the message got through. Much as I'd have liked to play football with the choirboys after the service, it was made clear that we would be attending coffee and biscuits in the church hall. Gee, thanks a bunch, Si.
While we were talking to some neighbours, I hooked my fingers inside the waistband at the back of Simon's trousers and whispered in his ear, that if he didn't begin to act like a normal human being I would give him a wedgie. That seemed to do the trick.
When we got home, Mum prepared a light snack for us as she did not want to spoil our appetites for the evening. It was decreed that we should take one of our long family country walks in the afternoon since we were evidently in urgent need of debouncing. Funny that, I thought I was okay. I won't deny that I was looking forward to the dinner and was pleased we were going out that afternoon because the time wouldn't drag so. We did return home physically tired, but mentally refreshed. Mum made a pot of tea and we had some cake. Then she suggested we took a short nap before getting ready for the evening. She also subtly made it clear that we should take our naps in our own rooms. Doesn't she realise that we have five days in the week when she isn't there? On the other hand perhaps she did.
I climbed out of the shower and dried myself off. Returning to my room, I could hear voices from downstairs. "No, Simon, you are not going out dressed like that." It roused my curiosity and so I took my towel off my shoulder and wrapped it round my waist, went downstairs and into the kitchen.
"But, Mum, lots of gay people wear Levi's and a tanktop." The 501s had been washed out from dark to pale blue and because he had had them a couple of years, they were tight, and I mean tight, and fitted into every nook and cranny to display his package and pert little butt cheeks. I confess that I liked him dressed that way, but then I adore him and I did understand what Mum was saying.
"And we don't want to sit at dinner with the odour from your armpits wafting across the table and mingling with our food."
"It's all right, Mum. Leave him to me. I'll sort him."
"And apart from being nosy, what did you want, Nick?"
"Moi? Nosy? That's hurt me to the quick, Mum. I was just wondering where my clean socks were."
"Have you tried looking in your clean sock drawer, love?"
"Clean sock drawer, of course. Why didn't I think of that? Come along, Simon."
Eventually Mum, dressed in a long evening dress, and the three male members of the family dressed in jackets and ties, climbed into the car, Simon with a small carrier in his hand, and we drove to the Dog & Duck. Our receptionist, Tracey, had obviously been honing her PR skills. How long had we been coming here and she still couldn't get the name quite right? Finally she booked us in and Ben came to meet and greet. He gave Simon a hug. Not sure it actually gained the 'rents' approval, and it certainly didn't get mine as I didn't get one. We seemed to be the only outsiders. The other diners were hotel guests, the one reason we could rely on the Dog & Duck being open for meals on a Sunday evening. Our table in the large bay window was beautifully decorated. After we'd studied the menu, we gave Ben our order and continued with our drinks. Whenever he came to the table, Simon would smile or wink at him.
We enjoyed our meal and the time came for Simon's customary postprandial wander, carrier in hand, ostensibly towards the gents', but via the kitchen. He seemed to be taking longer than usual. When he eventually returned, it was with Ben, and Ben was not carrying the card reader for the bill with him. "Mr and Mrs Croker," said Ben "could we borrow Nick for a few moments, please?" Naturally my mother wanted to know why, but we were gone before she could ask the question. We went out of the garden door of the hotel and then through the staff entrance to the kitchen. So imagine my surprise when I saw standing there Mr Timmis, dressed in, dare I mention it, tight 501s and a tanktop. My first impulse was to run and hug him, but I took control of myself. In my mind, if not in fact, he was still my gym master from school. His face lit up as well as mine. After the preliminary polite conversation Ben cut to the chase and said "Look, lads, we really want to ask a big favour of you."
"Ben and I have talked this through a lot and we couldn't think of anyone better," said Mr Timmis,
"especially as we didn't want to ask family in order to prevent any squabbling," added Ben. They were already like an old married couple, finishing each other's sentences off. Then in unison, just as if they had rehearsed it, they said
"We'd be honoured and delighted if you would be our pageboys at our wedding." I think we both stood there for ten seconds, mouths open, looking at each other and saying nothing. Ben broke the silence.
"If you agree we shall have to ask for your parents' permission, and then there is a special uniform for pages."
"Think back to the wedding of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge." I thought back to the cute boys in their red and gold tunics and their white tights, or were they breeches? I even remembered the stiffie I was nursing as I sat in front of the television watching the event and wishing I could be there in their place.
"What does a pageboy actually do?" I asked.
"His main responsibility is to bear a cushion with the wedding rings on it," said Ben.
"And we've decided on a church wedding," added Mr Timmis.
Simon and I looked at one another. I knew I wanted to and I was pretty sure he did too. "Can we just have a word outside?" I asked.
"Certainly," said Ben.
"Lest I forget," said Mr Timmis, "I just wanted to thank you, Nick, for that very kind gift of cufflinks and when I saw Simon give Ben a matching pair, I was even more grateful. That's very thoughtful.
We went out of the door into the hotel garden and Simon said "Are you up for it, Nicky?"
"I sure am. How about you?"
"No second thoughts there. Of course I am, and I like the idea of these uniforms," said Simon. "Let's go and ask Mum and Dad."
"Okay, but let me do the talking. The way you've been stirring Mum up all day you might not get the answer we want. You know you even made Dad harrumph?" Simon giggled at the very idea.
We made our way back into the restaurant. "Mum, Dad," I started. "We've just had a nice surprise."
"What's that?" said Mum.
"Ben and Mr Timmis have just asked us to be their pageboys at their wedding. You don't mind, do you?"
"Oh, that's nice," said Mum, more as an auto-response than with conviction.
"So we can tell them yes, then?" We waited a split second before we sharply made our way back to the kitchen.
"Boys one, Mum nil there, Lucy," said Dad out of our hearing.
"Mmm, you may be right. I'd like to have had time to think about it, Joe, I must admit, but I think if Mr Timmis is involved no harm can come to them. This gay thing is more involved that it seems at first sight."
Back in the kitchen Simon broke the good news. Then Ben said "We'd better go and ask officially." The four of us went through the door that led directly from the kitchen into the restaurant and Ben asked for permission to have us as their pageboys. Not being people to go back on their word Dad, speaking on behalf of Mum as well, graciously said they would be delighted and hoped that the date would be free, something that could easily be settled for us two at least. After that Mr Timmis joined us at table for a drink while Ben attended to his waiting duties. Even though it was his last night, there was work to be done and he wanted to leave his employment with his good reputation intact.
During the conversation Mr Timmis made the point that since we were acting as pageboys and because we knew Ben as Ben and he was no longer our schoolmaster, we were family and should call him Adrian. "After all, you did let me call you Nicky." The double-entendre about being family went over Mum and Dad's head… I think, but it wasn't missed by Simon or me. During the chat we got down to the business of writing down addresses, storing telephone numbers and discussing dates and times. Finally it was the hour for carriages, but not without having a drink with Ben. Even the hotel manager, who was not on duty that night, came to say goodbye to him and thank him for all he had done. He said he hoped the Croker family would continue to patronise the Dog & Duck without Ben. We paid the bill – that meant Simon did the biz with Dad's debit card – and we took our departure, not so tearfully as I'd anticipated. We now had something to focus on and look forward to during the long summer holidays.
The wedding was going to take place on a Friday at St Sebastian's church in our town, not where Mr Timm… I mean Adrian and Ben were moving to. Dad gave his apologies since someone had to 'mind the shop'. He would arrive later, but Mum would attend the wedding and the reception. The reception was going to be held at the Dog & Duck, the hiring and accommodation costs being waived as a leaving present to Ben in appreciation for what he had achieved there. Mum could also act as our chaperone, that is keep an eye on us to see that we behaved ourselves and that Simon didn't go OTT. He and I were booked into the 'Dog' for Thursday and Friday nights. That way the preparations and rehearsals could take place and no one had to worry whether members of the wedding party would be in the right place at the right time. ("You boys don't mind doubling up and sharing, do you? There's a shortage of single rooms." As if…)
Meanwhile there were things to be done. On the Monday following the Sunday at the Dog & Duck we had to go into town to be measured for our uniforms. We were measured by a cute young man, not long out of school I would guess, who looked very smart in his dark blue suit and pink gingham shirt and pale blue tie. I did wonder if he really needed to take my inside leg measurement… twice! – "which side do you dress, sir?" – but he already knew the answer to that question! I ceased to worry when I noticed he had three attempts at measuring Simon's.
"It gave me a stiffie," Simon confided to me in a loud voice as we were leaving the shop.
"You weren't the only one," I replied.
"Wot? You too, Nicky?"
"Not me, the assistant. Anyway, I know how to control myself."
"Nicky! You big fibber."
At long last the day before the wedding arrived. Simon and I had to go to the church for a rehearsal after which we were taken to the Dog & Duck and besides being fed and watered, and at our favourite table may I add, we were entertained as part of the wedding party which consisted not only of the two grooms, but their best men, who were called supporters, – for it seemed illogical and inappropriate to have more than one best man, – four ushers, the grooms' parents and siblings. It was so obvious that the ushers had been selected from their gay friends. Two were so camp, and boyfriends, and two were absolutely straight-acting and couldn't have been more masculine. They were adorable. Adrian's supporter was his brother, Paul, Ben's a friend from university, James. Well before midnight Ben's parents took him home for the grooms supported the superstition that they should not meet on the day of the wedding before arriving at the altar, or in this case at the church door. I didn't know this, but another tradition at a gay wedding is, particularly if they are, as happens in many instances, gay themselves and, furthermore, unattached, for the two supporters to share a room on the night before the wedding.
The following morning we were summoned to breakfast by an alarm call. Although the service was not until midday, there was a lot of preparation to be done. We had been given a timetable and were expected to fit in and be available at the times stated. It was made clear that we had to submit to the services of a dresser and so we were permitted to appear at breakfast unshowered in tee shirt, shorts and trainers. Mum would have had a fit, but we did have quick wash for it had been a hot sticky night in that big bed.
Our dresser introduced himself and sat down to breakfast with us, not that he needed any introduction for Theo was the charming young assistant from the hire shop, dressed down today in jeans, sandals and tee shirt. He explained that he would dress us, but asked if we had ever worn, or even seen 'one of these'. One of these Simon called a thong, but I knew it to be a dance belt, and I popped a boner under the table at the thought of wearing one. "If you're wearing tights you need to wear one of these to prevent inelegance, if you know what I mean, or embarrassing yourselves if you get over excited." We assured him we knew exactly what he meant. After all, I was over excited at that very moment. Simon said in his best telephone speaking manner
"It's all right, Theo. We really are very experienced homosexuals and you can tell it to us as it is." Theo gave me a look. I said
"It's okay. He gets it from our mother."
"Fine, I'll tell it as it is. You'll find one of these in the costume box. It is not a thong or a jockstrap. They tuck your equipment down; a dance belt holds it all up, balls up, dick pointing north, the belt will hold them in place. Also it will help protect you. Some people find the strap up their crack uncomfortable. Some like it. You'll soon get used to it. Enjoy."
"Protect us?"
"How old are you?"
Fourteen and fifteen," answered Simon.
"Okay, you should old enough to understand this. This is a gay wedding and so well over half of the guests will be gay. The grooms, the supporters, the ushers and of course the pageboys form the centre of the show. When the drink gets flowing, even before the drink gets flowing, with the exception of the grooms you are all fair game. With the inhibitions gone, they won't worry whether you're legal or not. You will probably get touched up and groped." Simon giggled. "Your tunics will come down to cover your modesty, but they will flounce up and down and glimpses of your butt cheeks and crotch bulges will be more tempting than a full view."
"Wow! Really?" said Simon. "We get this all the time at school."
"At school you're dealing with casual inquisitive teenagers, Simon," said Theo. "These are hardened, lecherous full-blooded queers with drink inside them."
"Listen to the man, Simon. He knows what he's talking about," I said. "Don't worry too much, Theo. I'll stand by him and cover his back…"
"And my front," giggled Simon.
"… and our mother's there to chaperone us."
"Nick, what does 'chaperone' mean?"
"I'll tell you in a minute."
"Now I'm going to be a bit personal. Nick, you need a shave. You look scruffy for a pageboy. Simon, you could do with one too, but not so urgently. You've just got bumfluff on your top lip. You see from your programme that the hair stylist is coming to your room. Before you get changed. He does make up as well." My stiffie was just about subsiding when, at the mention of make up, I thought of Tony Maltby and I hardened up again. Have you ever worn make up before? School play? Anything like that?"
"That's a bit poofy, isn't it?"
"Do shut up, Simon. We are poofs."
"Sorry, bro, I forgot."
"We'll check it out with the barber."
"Hair stylist," corrected Theo. "Now is there anything else I can help you with?" We couldn't think of anything. "I'll see you in your room at whatever time it says on your sheet. By the way, you get to keep the belt. Hygiene rules, but everything else has to be returned."
"See ya, Theo," we chorused.
The hair stylist arrived at our room at the appointed time. We had just showered and washed our hair and were still in our undies. He introduced himself as Apollo, – we assumed that was his professional name – sat us down at the dressing table and looked at us. Again he was as camp as a row of tents and we took to him immediately. "The 'in' cut at the moment is long on top and a number one on the sides. Simon and I looked at each other.
"I think not," he said.
"Okay, luvvies, I'll tell you what I see. You're a matching pair and I take it you're brothers, not boyfriends."
"Brothers and boyfriends," corrected Simon.
"Ooooh! How bold! I love it," screeched Apollo. "Keep it in the family, duckie. That's what I say. You know, boys, I'm inspired now. I'm going to make you look more beautiful than you are already, and I'm going to make you a matching pair. Trust me."
Apollo had his time cut out to get us ready. Basically, he trimmed round the edges, gave us a perm so that we had curls, gave our blond curls black streaks and combed them up and sprayed them so that they stayed up. "Now we're going to finish this off with the teeniest, weeniest bijou application of cosmetics." He produced another box of tricks. "Sit in front of the mirror and watch and if you don't like it, we'll clean it off and no harm done. Pout." At that he applied some lipstick which made our lips marginally redder than they were already, but made them appear larger, then added some lip gloss, followed by a very faint and pale blue touch of eye make up and lastly… "This might not work, ducky." … long eye lashes that matched our eyebrows.
I looked at Simon. He was absolutely gorgeous. Apollo was just packing the tools of his trade away when there was a knock at the door. It was our dresser Theo with two large flat boxes and two red tunics trimmed with gold on hangers. In a quick salve, ave moment Theo and Apollo exchanged places. "Okay, young gentlemen, you need to take all your clothes off and put the belts on." He handed us a dance belt each from the appropriate box. "I'll wait outside until you are ready."
"No need," I said. "Adrian removed any shyness I might have had when he taught us, and Simon never had any anyway. We are proud of our bodies, especially Simon's dick."
"And Nick's balls," added Simon. "And from the way you measured us the other day, Theo, I don't think you will discover anything new today and at that we both did a striptease in front of Theo who couldn't pretend that he wasn't interested because his stone washed 501s told a different story. To finish off we spun our undies on the end of our fingers and let them fly into his lap.
"Mmm, nice pubes, Nick. I take it you both shave down there. Still, we'd better calm down. We have to get this bit right." We pulled on the belts and made sure everything was sitting right and to Theo's approval. "Now get into a crouching position and stand up. And again. Good. That should make sure that the backstrap is in as comfortable position as possible." Next we put on the shirt, brilliant white cotton with a white cravat and frilly cuffs. Theo arranged the cravats. "Now the most difficult bit, and hopefully this will show whether I got the measurements right. The tights. Start with the feet and slowly pull them over your legs, each leg a little at a time, smoothing out any wrinkles as you go. That's great. Pull them up to halfway between you penis and your navel. Now we have to make sure they fit into every nook and cranny and that your bulge is dead centre and not showing any detail. No, it's not going to work. You are big boys, aren't you?"
"You've got the measurements there," said Simon pushing his luck.
"Excuse me a minute." He stood up, put his hands down the front of his jeans and re-arranged himself. "That's better. I can kneel comfortably now. Try these." He took two white canvas things out of his bag that looked cricket boxes. "Put these cups down the front of your tights."
"Can you help me, please, Theo?" He stood behind me and slipped in the cup. It was a natural reaction I knew from cricket to push your backside back as it went round the bend and as I did, Theo pushed forward thrusting his hard dick against me. Simon saw what was happening and said
"Can you do me as well, Theo?" 'Dirty little sod,' I thought. Once everything was in place to Theo's satisfaction, the waist of the tights was pulled up to our belly buttons over the bottom of our shirts, which reached down to the top of the cups. We put on the shoes, black patent leather slip-ons with silver buckles.
"Just the jackets and we're done." Theo helped us on with them and standing in front of the mirror, we buttoned them up, while Theo made sure the frilly cuffs came out of the arms and were arranged nicely. The jackets were cut away to show a full view of our packages. So much for flouncing up and down and teasing! He looked us up and down. We looked ourselves up and down; we looked each other up and down. I wanted to pop a boner, but couldn't. Everything was held too tightly. I loved the heat emanating from my dick and into my lower abdomen. I desperately wanted to kiss Simon, but that would have smudged the make-up. "No kissing until after the ceremony," said Theo, "and I must say, you two boys look absolutely splendid."
"Where do we put our handkerchiefs?" I asked.
"Inside pocket of the jacket, nicely folded in a square, not scrunched up. Okay, you two, pop along to the green room. You know what a green room is, don't you?"
"The place actors chill out in when they're not on stage."
"That's right, Simon, and ours is painted beige, by the way. You'll be needed for a photo call and then you stay there until you're called to the taxis."
I must say we were extremely flattered the way heads turned when we walked into the green room. Some of the wedding party were already there: Paul, Adrian's brother and supporter with their parents, and the ushers. We were called out onto the lawn for photographs, groups and individuals. I was very proud to have mine taken with Simon and after the official portrait we had one of us holding hands, another with our arms round each other, one of me pretending to kiss his cheek and a couple with us in profile, the better to capture our packages. Immediately the shoot was over, the ushers left for the church.
We were lucky with the weather. The sun was shining, but a breeze made the temperature and humidity bearable, especially for the way we were togged up. The arrival of our limousine was announced. Mr Timmis senior rode shot gun, with Adrian and his mother in the back and us on the fold-down seats facing backwards. Adrian congratulated us on the way we were turned out and joked about what they would say at school if they saw us now. I had to admit that I felt really good in tights. They were me. I thought they would be too hot in summer and I was one of those who enjoyed feeling the strap up my crack. Later Simon said he enjoyed the experience too.
We arrived at St Sebastian's with a quarter of an hour to spare. Ben's party arrived dead on the appointed hour. The grooms looked superb in their matching light grey tailcoats, pinstriped trousers, white frilly shirts and light blue cravats. After a brief greeting the families went inside the church, the procession, consisting of the grooms arm in arm, their supporters and two pageboys, formed and we entered the church to the organ playing Handel's The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba .
The vicar – my gaydar judged him immediately to be family – welcomed everybody and in a preamble explained the purpose of our being gathered together today. There was relief when no answer came to his question "Therefore if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace." There was always the risk of a protest, especially at that late stage. The service proceeded to the vows. "Benedict Gaylord, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honour, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"
Ben answered firmly "I will."
"Adrian Everard, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honour, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"
Adrian answered "I will." After the declaration came the vows themselves. Ben took Adrian's right hand.
"I, Benedict Gaylord, take thee, Adrian Everard, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight my troth." Adrian took Ben's right hand.
"I, Adrian Everard, take thee, Benedict Gaylord, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight my troth."
Now came our part. Simon and I picked up the waiting cushions, proffered them to the supporters who place the rings on them. We presented the rings to the vicar who place them on his prayer book and blessed them. Then in turn the grooms placed one on his husband's fourth finger of the left hand. We returned the cushions and took our seats. The service followed its course, not forgetting that we were also in the party that went to sign the registers, not that we were allowed to because we were under eighteen, but it was of interest if only because we discovered their new names when they signed the register – Adrian Timmis-Dover and Ben Dover-Timmis, and at the end we joined the recession as the grooms left the church to Widor's Toccata . Outside we stood in line as the grooms welcomed their guests and received their congratulations. Ben's brother, Josh, seemed particularly eager to meet us.
After photographs and the general mêlée the grooms and their supporters could finally get away for the short journey to the Dog & Duck. Everybody we met told Simon and me that we had performed superbly and how smart we looked. We both felt on top of the world. Mum said she was very proud of us. Dad had yet to arrive. Adrian and Ben came over to talk to us. Just at that moment Dad arrived and after the usual introductions it was obvious that a 'manœuvre' was under way. Adrian entertained our parents while Ben shepherded us over to a quiet corner of the garden.
"Simon, Nick, you were fantastic and you look so attractive in your page's uniforms."
"Ben, you can feel my balls, if you want to," said Simon.
"No, I can't. I'm a married man now and I intend to stay a married man. But boys, I've got a really big favour to ask you, mega big." We both looked at Ben inquisitively. "Bit of a long story, but I'll try and cut it short. Have you met my brother Josh?"
"He introduced himself when we were leaving the church," I replied. "Simon thought he was a bit tasty."
"And you said 'wow, I wouldn't mind a bit of that."
"I can't deny it. Sorry, we shouldn't be talking about the groom's brother like that."
"Don't be sorry, Nick."
"Any road up, what's this favour?"
"Last Wednesday it was Josh's sixteenth birthday. With all the wedding preparations and that, he didn't really get a fair crack of the whip. He got forgotten about. That's by the way. I asked him what he wanted as a present and do you what he said?"
"No," said Simon, "we weren't there."
"Shut up, plonker, and listen."
"Nicholas, you shouldn't talk to your boyfriend like that."
"I'm not talking to my boyfriend. I'm talking to my goofy little brother." He stood on tiptoe.
"I'm nearly is big as you now."
"Maybe, but your brain and your dick still have some way to go. Sorry, Ben. You were trying to tell us something."
"Yes, Josh, what he said to me was 'Do you know, Ben, the best present I could have, something I've never had before?' 'What's that?' 'Don't tell Mum and Dad, but it's sex with another boy.'"
"What? Haven't you ever had a wank together?" I said.
"Nope. I know he does it because I've heard his bedsprings… and we sleep in different rooms! You see, I've always been lucky from Year 8 upwards. I've always been able to get plenty. Then I met Adrian. Still, it's Josh we're talking about, not me, and the favour I'm going to ask is would you let him sleep in your room tonight and sort him out?"
"A pleasure, Ben," said Simon before I could say anything, but I was almost drooling at the thought.
"Great," I said. "Anything we can do to help."
"Presumably you'll be at the disco?" I nodded. "I'll tell him to come and ask one of you for a dance. Take it from there. We won't be there. After the speeches we'll go and get changed and then we're off on our honeymoon. Hotel at the airport and off tomorrow morning."
"Where are you going, or is it a secret?"
"It's no secret. Gran Canaria in the Canary Islands. It's very family friendly, they say. Then it's back to our new house. I start work on the following Monday and Adrian has his new school at the beginning of September. We've done the move. All we've got to do is go and live there. Must go. Got to circulate among the guests. Eternally grateful to you, not just for the favour, but for being such fantastic pages. If I weren't a married man, I'd be asking you out on a date. And if you ever feel like a dirty weekend, we've got a spare room with a double bed. You can come and stay."
"Stay and come," giggled Simon.
We walked back to where my parents were. Adrian had moved on. Ben caught up with him. "That was a long chat you were having over there," said Mum.
"Just gayboy chat," I said.
"Giving the newly weds a little bit of marital advice," said Simon impertinently.
"Ben needed us to do a job for him while they're on their honeymoon. He said we can go and stay with them in their new home when they've settled in."
"We're just going to have a walk around and talk to the guests," said Simon.
"Don't be too long. We'll be called in for the wedding breakfast in few a minutes," said Mum.
"Why's it called a wedding breakfast when it's halfway through the afternoon?" asked Simon.
"Think of the literal meaning of the word 'breakfast', darling. In the olden days you would take communion as part of the wedding service and you weren't supposed to eat before communion."
"Oh, I never thought of it like that," said Simon. With that we went off to do some boywatching with Josh Dover particularly in our sights, not that we were going to chat him up. It was up to him to approach us.
Our boywatching was cut short by the call to the dining room. School apart, this was the first time we had attended a formal meal. The room was set out with one long table, the 'top table'. "Have they got a special table for bottoms, too?" asked Simon. I gave him a withering look. In the centre were the grooms, on either side their parents, but swapped round, then moving outwards, the supporters and at one end there were seats for us two. Everybody else was seated at round tables of eight. Mum and Dad were at the opposite end of the room and so we couldn't rely on them to tell us the correct things to do. We just had to follow what everyone else did, but boy, were we grateful for having been brought up to eat meals in a restaurant. We knew the correct cutlery to use.
The dinner went on as we now know these dinners do. Wine taking and we had to stand up when the grooms took wine with the pageboys, cutting the cake and then finally the speeches. We were allowed a glass of champagne for the toasts, but I did wonder why people made such a fuss about it. All of the speeches were funny, especially the ones from the grooms' supporters with stories from their earlier lives. We were surprised when various people who had performed duties were given presents in gratitude, and that included us. The boxes were like large pizza boxes. "Are we allowed to open them now?" said Simon.
"Everybody else is," I said.
"Sure," said Adrian, "go ahead." Simon pulled the paper off in one go, while I picked at the string and sellotape. When we saw what was inside, a quick intake of breath and our jaws dropped. We both had the same and the same was compression tracksuits. They must have cost a bomb. We'd already looked them up on the internet and the cost was far more than we could afford. They were in Oxford and Cambridge blue and we couldn't see it at the time, but when we eventually tried them on, we noticed that the design ran so that the pale blue made your eyes automatically look at our crotches and butts standing out from the dark blue. We couldn't have asked for anything better.
The toastmaster banged his gavel for one last time. "Ladies and gentlemen, the grooms will retire." We all stood and clapped as arm in arm they left the dining room. Afterwards some people sat and chatted, others went out into the garden. We appeared to be very popular. A lot of the guests came to talk to us. Some were obviously gay and found us attractive. Theo was right. We were goosed and the dancing hadn't even begun.
After half an hour we were summoned to the front of the hotel where a taxi was waiting. The grooms, now wearing casual clothes, came out of the front door, holding hands, to a shower of confetti. They waved, thanked everyone for coming, blew kisses and said goodbye. Adrian blew a special one to me, Ben one to Simon, and just like Ronan Parke, we caught them and blew them back to applause. They climbed into the cab and were whisked away to their airport hotel.
"Do you think we'll be like that one day, Nicky?"
"I don't know, Si. Maybe they don't allow brothers to marry." On sheer impulse I pulled him in and gave him a long French kiss. I was feeling so horny in those tights and what with seeing Simon in his, I didn't care who was looking, even Mum and Dad. Why should we? It was a gay wedding anyway. I couldn't wait to get upstairs, whether we were going to have a threesome or it was just the two of us. We broke to loud cheers and hearty applause.
"I don't know about you, Si, but I'm dying for a pee and I think with these tights on, I'm going up to our room to do it."
"I'm coming with you, bro."
I think we must have fallen asleep for it had got dark all of a sudden. We smartened each other up in our page uniforms and went downstairs. We made our way to the disco and I took Simon onto the floor. What we hadn't reckoned with was that the UV lights would make our tights and shirts glow in the dark. It wasn't long before Josh Dover came up to us. He danced with me and from that I could tell he was up for it, whatever 'it' turned out to be. He danced with Simon. It was impossible to talk and so if we were to get to know our new friend, we had to go elsewhere, and elsewhere was our room. The nap had refreshed the two of us and so we felt ready for whatever the night was going to bring.
We collected some cold drinks and the three of us made our way up our room. It was a relief to get away from the heat and the noise. "You don't mind if we get changed first, do you, Josh?"
Both of us changed and Josh didn't know where to look, to look away, to look at Simon or to look at me. We made the choice easier for him by making it impossible for him to look away. We showered and I put on tennis shorts (with no undies, but that's just between you and me) and a tee shirt. Simon put on boardies. "So, what time have you got to go home?"
"Not till tomorrow. Ben booked me in with our parents. Our dad's taking me home after breakfast tomorrow." Then Simon spoke up.
"Ben told us you want to get laid… gaylaid."
"Simon! Why don't you tell it as it is?" Josh blushed.
"If it's true, we're your gays… I mean guys."
"You were right the first time, Si," I said.
"It's true," said Josh. "I watch all these gay porn vids on the net and wish it was me taking part in them. Then I thought I'm soon going to be sixteen and legal and Ben's been having all this fun and maybe I should be getting some too. So when he asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I told him half joking I wanted a boy to do stuff with and he took me seriously and said he'd see what he could do and well, here I am."
"So what do you want to do?" asked Simon.
"Anything. I don't care. I've seen it all on the net anyway. Just never done it myself."
"Have you ever done anything with a girl?" I asked. He was silent for a moment.
"Nope. Just not interested. I've always admired Ben with his boyfriends and then he met Adrian and I saw how well they got on together, fell in love and now they're married and I thought that's what I want to do."
"Are you out at home or at school?" I continued.
"Not really. I didn't think I could actually come out if I'd never done stuff with another bloke. Ben knows, of course. Don't know whether my parents know. Think Mum does and Dad suspects I'm gay. They had to change their thinking a lot after Ben came out. They're okay with it now and they like Adrian a lot and said that if Ben really had to marry another man, he couldn't have done better than marrying Adrian. In fact, I think Mum quite fancies him herself."
"So, Josh, you're sure you really want to go through with this?" He nodded. "Are you a top or a bottom?"
"I don't know until I've tried. What are you?"
"We're versatile."
"Nick's really easy to penetrate and ever so gentle when he shags you."
"Simon, please! Family secrets." Actually, I was quite pleased with the way he was building up my reputation as a lover. "Okay, we accept the challenge. What happens in the hotel, stays in the hotel and you won't shout rape afterwards?"
"Promise." We sealed the deal on a hi-five.
"Simon, did you bring any supplies?"
"Of course, Nick. Did you?"
"Of course, Simon. Never attend gay weddings without." By now Josh was looking puzzled.
"Supplies?"
"Jonnies," said Simon, "and lube. Nick and me go raw, but if we do it with anyone else, we always use rubbers."
"Simon, you really are the limit. If you go on like this, we won't have any family secrets left."
"It's all right, Josh," said Simon grinning. "The one really big family secret that he doesn't want anybody in the world to know is that I've got a bigger cock than he has."
"You have not, you big storyteller." At that point I realised that he was winding me up. "Josh, you'd better go and shower and change and come back here when you're ready."
"Don't be too long, though," said Simon. "We're feeling so randy we might have to start without you."
A quarter of an hour later there was a knock on the door and we let Josh Dover in. He was wearing his pyjamas under a dressing gown. His hair was still damp from the shower. In the meantime Simon and I had discussed a couple of ideas about how we were going to perform the dastardly deed on this poor innocent. The funny thing is that Simon can talk the talk all right, but when it comes to walking the walk, he entirely relies on me and puts me in the firing line and so it was me who was delegated to take the lead. "Oh, Nicky, you always know what to do and you are so nearer his age than I am."
"You didn't worry about that with his brother, Si."
"Oh, that was different."
"You're going to be rather warm in all that, Josh," said Simon. "Give me your dressing gown and I'll hang it up for you." I drew the curtains. Josh went and lay on the bed while Simon and I sat in the chairs.
"So, Josh, you're gay, you're out…"
"Well, no. I told you, not officially out like Ben, but I've made no secret of it either."
"… and you've never done stuff with another boy?" He shook his head. "Not even with Ben?"
"No. Ben was very tight once he'd met Adrian and I was probably too young anyway before that."
"And as part of your sixteenth birthday present from Ben you want to lose your cherry?"
"Front or back cherry?" asked Simon.
"I don't know…" he hesitated. "Both really."
"And you want us to do the dirty deed?"
"We've got a way of doing this," I continued. "We always take your back cherry before you lose your front one. It's important that you find out what it's like having a prick inside you before you try to do it to someone else. It makes you more considerate towards your partner." Simon leant over and in a stage whisper said in my ear
"Nicky, you've got a bollock dangling out of your shorts."
"I know, Si," I said, then whispered "It's called ground bait. By the way, Josh, are your parents still here?"
"Yes. As part of the wedding party, they have to stay until the last guest has gone home or gone to bed. It's all right. I left a note on their bed to say where I am and that I'd see them at breakfast."
"We'll get started," I said. "I know it doesn't sound particularly romantic, but this is business. Not that it can't be pleasure as well. Since you have never touched another boy's dick, or his balls, come and hold mine. No, leave my shorts on. Go gold-digging. Put our hand up the leg of my shorts. That's right. Does it feel nice?" He nodded. "Feels good to me, too. Now do the same to Simon. You'll have to pull his boardies down. I don't s'pose he's got anything on underneath."
"Oh yes, I have."
"First time for everything. Have a good play. Don't worry if he goes hard. There'd be more to worry about if he didn't. Just get used to the feel." While that was happening, I stripped naked. "We're not going to wank you off. I expect you've done that enough times at home. I don't suppose you've kissed another boy?"
"Boys don't do that," stated Josh. "Do they?" he asked with less certainty.
"You can ask Ben when he gets back from honeymoon. Come and lean against the wall." I teased his lips with my tongue, then went straight in with a deep French kiss that made me go hard. Simon was watching us all the time. I licked the right hand side of his neck and went in for the branding. I sucked hard on the moist seal between my lips and his throat for about thirty seconds, then broke. "Okay, Simon, your turn. His left hand side." Simon was now naked. He embraced Josh in the middle of the room. By now all Josh's resistance had crumbled. He knew from his porno films what the logical sequence of all this was and he couldn't believe that this was happening to him in real life. His groans showed that we were doing all the right things. Simon stripped him, then got him to lie on the bed on his back with his legs dangling over the side and his feet on the floor. Simon continued his bewitching labio-lingual work on Josh while I knelt between his legs and was licking his balls. I soon stopped for they were hairy and making me gag. (Mental note: shave them for him before the morning session.) That hiatus over, I licked the shaft of his dick, then his glans and finally gave him full head. He was so far gone that it was easy for Simon to put his brand mark on Josh's throat. I could see my love bite had come up nicely red and purple. I just hoped he wasn't a hæmophiliac. I concentrated all my skill and experience to bring him to the edge several times without letting him ejaculate, successfully may I add, until Simon had had enough and it was time to do the dirty deed.
"Normally, Josh, we call this making love," said Simon, "but because it's your first time and we're training you, it will lose its spontaneity and be a bit mechanical."
"Simon's going to go first and be the one that steals your cherry because he's only got a weeny little dick and it will penetrate easily."
"No, I haven't!" I looked at him and raised an eyebrow, but too late he realised he was being wound up. I must say that the lovebite he'd given Josh was coming along nicely. They would test his parents' tolerance at breakfast.
"Are you okay, Josh?" asked Simon. "You don't want a rest?"
"No, I feel great."
"Kneel on the edge of the bed. This will feel cold." He jumped as I applied the K-Y. I took a new pack of condoms from my 'supplies' bag. "Hey, Si, I've never seen this brand before," and I showed Simon and Josh the pack. They both giggled. "Are you ready, Si?"
"Not quite. I've gone limp." He walked up behind Josh and whacked his limp dick along Josh's crevice. "That's it. I'm hard again."
© N Fourbois
I rolled the jonnie slowly over his glans, then his shaft, gave his balls a gentle tweak for good measure, and he slipped his dick slowly into Josh's hole up to his lack of pubic hair and until his balls were pushed up against Josh's butt cheeks and perineum. Not a whimper, so expertly performed was the penetration, like Tom Daley's entry into the water from a ten metre dive, but that was amply compensated for once Simon began pumping away.
Once Simon had come, I was ready to take over. Having seen the signs, I gave my dick a couple of pulls to bring it up to its full hardness, slipped a condom on and pushed in immediately Simon had pulled out. He'd done a good job. Josh was tight, as I expected, but he was a damn good f**k, one of the best casual ones I'd had in ages. I made my balls slap against his butt and if I had a pound for every time he uttered 'OMG', it would be drinks on me for the whole evening. Finally I shot my load, let my dick soften and drop out, knotted the condom and put it in one of the resealable plastic bags I kept for the purpose among my 'supplies', already marked with Josh's and my name and the date. I had another sachet for when he topped me in the morning.
"How was that, Josh?" said Simon as we were all lying on the bed in post-coïtal recovery.
"Great," he answered. "I always thought it would hurt, especially first time."
"Skill," said Simon, huffing on his fingernails and polishing them on the lapel that wasn't there.
"We have had a bit of practice," I responded a little more modestly. "Let's clean up and we'll go to bed. And no hanky-panky. It's been a long day and we've plenty of time for that in the morning and you'll need all your strength, I promise you."
I woke up, wondering where I was. I looked at my watch. Seven-thirty. Saturday. But was it? Hotel. Ah, yes, the morning after. The morning after the wedding, Adrian and Ben's wedding, their mid-week wedding. I felt Simon snuggled up against my back, his stiff dick aligned along my crack. But wait. It didn't feel like Simon. It didn't even feel like Simon's dick. I got some space and I saw, then remembered that Josh had come to bed with us and we'd put him in the middle. I got out of bed. I didn't draw the curtains back, but I did open the windows as wide as possible. The air was foetid: egg, garlic and baked beans all mixed into a homogenous fart gas, yet retaining their own individual flavours. But we hadn't eaten any of those. After a few gasps of country fresh air my brain started to function again. I looked at my sleeping companions and remembered that I had a job to do today. I went into the bathroom, showered and did all the other things I had to do to render myself a hygienic and desirable sexual partner, including a quick enema with the shower nozzle, then gave Simon a shake. "Go and get showered, Si, while you can."
"Nicky, do you think we ought to give him an enema?" I thought for a moment.
"Mmm, why not? He's under training and I've just had one. He might as well learn to do it properly and if he doesn't learn it from us, who's going to teach him? Also, you can rim me before he shags me?"
When Simon was finished in the bathroom, I woke Josh whose immediate reaction was to pull the sheet over his morning wood. "I shouldn't bother. We've seen it all before and we haven't any clothes on, either." He got out of bed and staggered into the bathroom. "Tell us when you've finished. We've got to show you something. How to clean yourself properly. Josh was apprehensive at the idea of squirting water up his bum, but then he'd been apprehensive about having a boy's tongue in his mouth and a prick penetrating his sphincter, but everything had worked out all right. He could trust the Croker brothers, but why hadn't Ben taught him all this?
When all had been completed, Josh sighed a sigh of relief and waited to die another day. "Okay, Josh, this is the plan. You need your bollocks shaving. We'll do that for you. You can't expect people to lick or suck hairy balls. It'll make them throw up like I nearly did. Simon is going to be what they call in a horse stud the teaser. Put some underwear on. Then you're going to snog him and give him a BJ. After that he'll rim me until we're ready to get down to the real thing. You're going to shag my arse so hard that I scream, you shoot your load and have then lost your front cherry. Any questions?"
I had to go and put a slip on because I was getting so horny watching Josh working on Simon, and he was good. "Try and keep his dick in your mouth, Josh, and when he shoots his load, keep it all in your mouth. There won't be very much because his tiny balls can't produce much." Simon made funny noises as he tried to protest, but we'd always been taught not to speak with our mouths full, and so I got away with that remark. It wasn't long before Simon came, I'm glad to say, because I was really hard and raring to go. "Now give him a kiss to say thank you," and as he did the transfer of semen took place.
I dropped my slip, Simon buried his tongue in my crack until I yelled out "Shit! Can't you give me the real thing?" He lubed me up and I rolled the rubber – sorry, the silicon – over Josh's throbbing cock, then assumed the position. What is it about taking a boy's virginity? The thrill of the occasion adds to the thrill of the act. Josh and I were on such a high and, if I hadn't known, I couldn't have told that he was a first-timer. Or had he been telling fibs? So good was he that he gave me a prostate orgasm. Simon didn't do that very often. After he had shot his load, I said "Josh, keep it in there for as long as you can," but it quickly went limp and flopped out. "Hold on a minute." Before he could do anything, I slipped the condom off and knotted it. "That goes in my Hall of Fame. I have got a collection of every condom used when I've taken someone's virginity."
"Including last night's?"
"No, remember? It was Simon that took your back cherry? You were already broken in when I did you. Deflowered is the technical term. That's what Stephen Fry called it in his book about when he was at school."
I looked at my watch. It had gone nine. Where had those ninety minutes disappeared to? I was feeling on top of the world. "So, Josh, how do you feel now that you're a real homosexual?" asked Simon.
"Great, phat. That was awesome. When can we do it again?"
"Not today," I replied. "It's now time for you to find yourself a cute little boyfriend. Pity you don't go to our school. We'd soon find you one."
We got dressed and went down to breakfast. Both Simon and I noticed he was hobbling a bit and we silently awarded ourselves bonus points for performing a good job on his butt. On the stairs Josh stopped, turned to us and said in a very serious tone "Nick, Simon, I don't think there is any real difference in the size of your dicks, either of you." Simon looked at me, I looked at Simon and we both looked at Josh, seriously at first, but we couldn't maintain it and we burst out laughing.
"It's all right, Josh. Family joke. Forget it." Then I whispered in his ear "Just be a bit sensitive about it when Simon's around because he's got this hang up. You see, he really has got a smaller dick than me."
"Hey, Nick, I heard that."
Mr and Mrs Dover were already down and we went across to their table. "Ah, our two cute little pages," said Mrs Dover. "Good morning, boys. Simon and Nick, isn't it?" Mr Dover looked up from his paper. She started to say "OMG, Josh, what on earth…" but Mr Dover gave her a sharp dig in the ribs with his elbow before she could get out 'have you done to your neck?'
"Remember, Eileen, you were young once, dear," and she gave a little giggle as her eyes glazed. Obviously she was reminiscing.
"Come and join us, Simon and Nick. You collect whatever food you want from the buffet."
We enjoyed our breakfast with the Dover family. They talked about Ben and Josh, then went on to say how it was a shock to learn that their two sons were gay. They got used to the idea and they liked Adrian very much and welcomed him as a member of the family. But to rewind the tape a little, this conversation did cause a little, unpredicted hiatus.
When Eileen Dover said 'It was a bit of a shock to learn that Ben and Josh were gay', Josh froze for a few seconds just as he was dipping his soldiers into his boiled egg, unfroze and without thinking said
"But I haven't come out yet," 'yet' being the give away word.
"But you are, dear, aren't you?"
"Did Ben tell you?"
"No. Does he know?"
"Oh, yes. He knows. So how did you find out?"
"When I was dusting your desk, I moved the computer mouse and you must have left the computer on 'sleep'. Well, all I can say as a woman is that you must have very good taste in men." Josh's face was crimson. "Simon and Nick, it's no big deal, is it?"
"No, of course not," said Simon in his important tone of voice, the one he usually keeps for reserving tables at restaurants. "I'm out and… I shouldn't really be saying this, but it's a compliment really…" He reduced his voice to that famous stage whisper. "Nick is out too and he really is much gayer than I know how to be." I looked at Simon and those great big affectionate sapphire eyes and everyone present could sense the genuine love that was flowing in huge quantities between us. I pulled him in into a hug and kissed him on the forehead. Everybody laughed and applauded.
The tension of the moment was broken by the arrival of Mr and Mrs Timmis, père et mère , accompanied by Timmis junior, Adrian's brother Paul. The extended family came and sat down at our extended table. After the usual greetings and the hurly burly of fetching food from the buffet the conversation struck up again. Eileen as usual was doing most of the talking. "We were just talking about what it was like having gay sons." I was only half listening because I was thinking how similar Paul looked to his brother Adrian, another hunk, but my fantasies were utterly destroyed when Eileen said "Are you gay, Paul?"
"Me, Eileen? No way. I've got a girlfriend. Someone's got to pass on the family DNA." She squeezed his hand.
"I wish you every happiness, my dear."
I felt some vibrations in my groin. I took my smartphone out of my pocket and looked at the caller ID. "Excuse me," I said. "Our orders." I walked over towards the buffet, phone in one hand, glass in the other. When I came back, I said "Simon, Mum'll be here in her lunch hour to pick us up. We've got to be in reception with all our kit at twelve."
We were not rushed, but we did need to pack. Also, Theo would be here to collect our pageboy's uniforms sometime during the morning. After breakfast we excused ourselves. The Timmises and the Dovers said they would see us before we left and that they'd like to take a photo of us. Simon said "I know what, Nicky. Let's put our new tracksuits on. That'll show how much we like them."
"Then Adrian and Ben will get to see us in them as well," I added.
The biz all done, the farewells over, Simon and I sat in the foyer, waiting for Mum's taxi service. It was all such an anticlimax. Still a month before we went back to school and nothing exciting in prospect. We started reminiscing about the year, how last August both we and life appeared to be 'normal' and then it all happened. "You know, Si, it all started because I was absentmindedly staring at Aaron Berstead's balls in the PE lesson and I was all embarrassed about being busted. Do you know something, Si? I wouldn't give them a second look now and if I want to look at some kid's package, I just do it, and if he says something, well, that's a new friend made."
"It started for me when I finally admitted to myself that I was gay and do you remember when we came out?"
"Over the tea table, wasn't it?"
"That's right, and I only came out because you did. Do you know what, Nicky? I'm glad I did. It's been great fun and I've felt ever so happy and at peace with myself since doing it."
"So have I. Simon, have I ever told you how much I adore you?"
"Once or twice maybe, but you might be lying."
"Oh no, my darling baby brother. Not about that."
"Have I ever said how much I love you, Nicky?"
"Once or twice maybe, but every day your eyes tell me and every time you call me Nicky you tell me. That's why I don't like anyone else calling me that. Except Adrian, but that's because when he was Mr Timmis I was in love with him too. Unrequited love, Shakespeare calls it."
"Are you still?"
"In a way, but that's a different kind of love. Now I think he loves me, but again it's a different kind of love from the one he has for Ben."
"What else had happened?"
"The Ronan Parke concert. I wouldn't mind getting him into bed. The choirboy incident."
"I wouldn't mind going to bed with him," said Simon
"What else?"
"For me it was taking Eddie, especially as he used to be homophobic and called me gay. That camp was fantastic. You should have been there.
"I wanted to be, but I wasn't allowed to. Remember?"
"Do you still fancy Nathan?"
"Yes."
"Tony?"
"Not really. We'll have to re-assess our relationship when we get back to school. We've made no plans to meet during the holidays."
"You know, Nicky, I don't mind if you want to do stuff with Natt."
"And I don't mind if you want to do stuff with Eddie."
At that moment a car drew up outside the hotel lobby. We picked up our kit and put it into the boot. "Hi, Mum. What's for dinner tonight?" We climbed into the back seats together and she drove us home.
Epilogue
by
Nicholas Croker
Year 10 turned out to be a tremendous year for me, probably determining the course of my life. That bad day last autumn was supposed to be a 'Vignette' of some two thousand words dealing with just the confrontation between me and Aaron Berstead. The vignette grew into a 'Vinaigrette' of novel proportions. At the time I had no conception of the eventual ramifications of that incident. It certainly enabled me to know myself and therefore admit to myself that I was gay, and coming out set me (and probably Simon too) on the path of happiness in life.
My relationship with Simon, although complicated, was deep, strong and genuine, supported by the knowledge that later in life, come what may, we would always remain brothers. Our ultimate fidelity was to ourselves and our family and that would override all else. However, our relationship was not exclusive. Losing Adrian left a vacuum which was not filled by his successor at school. Despite that, Simon's love of gymnastics and mine grew from the seed sown by Adrian. We knew we would never progress to the heights of the sport because we had started too late in life, but we were amateurs in every sense of the word. We did visit Adrian and Ben in their marital home, but fortunately we were sensible enough to understand that life had moved on and we remembered Dad's wise words, namely to accept whether a person had come into our lives for a reason or for a season, but obviously not for a lifetime.
However, the vacuum was filled; Simon and I had been brought up to share, and that was what we did. My love – or was it lust? – for Nathan Tranter grew and flourished and Simon brought Eddie Francis into his relationships as well as Nathan. It was a complicated set up, for Eddie would never allow himself to be labelled as gay, but would on a good day settle for bi, and he never became an evangelist. He was a dark horse who had other irons in the fire. (Forgive the mixed metaphor.) In fact I think that while much of his homosexual activity was confined to our group of four, there was one notable exception which he was reluctant to share with us, and that exception owes its origin to the wide game played that night at the Years 8 and 9 camp over the early May bank holiday, when he took it upon himself to 'punish' Charlie Ransom. We all have to accept the evil within us and that, along with his boxing, was how he sublimated his wicked streak.
Simon on the other hand was an evangelist. He actively sought out the gayboys at school and brought them into the 'family'. Also, he would not accept the maxim that boys could not be 'converted' to homosexuality, his belief fed by the fact that many boys went through a 'gay phase' during puberty. How it did not earn him a smacking I do not know, but who could lay a violent hand on such a charmer as Simon?
As previously stated, I by default became the 'godfather' of the school's gay community which meant that my advice was frequently sought and it allowed me to build chaste (and sometimes not so chaste) relationships with some of the prettiest boys in the school. Occasionally such encounters involving Simon, Nathan, Eddie and / or me, would develop into little adventures suitable to becoming 'vignettes' which I shall write up in the hope that they will not develop into another 'vinaigrette'.
I trust you enjoyed hearing about our pivotal year as much as I have relating it.
Love
Nick
© N Fourbois 2015
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