by Rafael Henry

Chapter 5

When I reached home, there was a postcard propped up by the telephone in the hall by the front door. It was from David. The image was of the usual beach scene, and on the back his message written in his usual spidery handwriting….

Hi Jon. Hope your summer was good? Mine was. See you soon. David [new and improved version of]

New and improved? That's very cryptic isn't it?

I have less than one week of holiday left, with frankly not much to do. All the little bits of school stuff I need have arrived, most of it from M and S, and school uniform specific is ordered from the school shop to be collected next Monday. Poor old Uncle…….more to pay out.

Uncle 'phoned the other night just to say hello to us, but it was more than that…..more like 'I hope you're mentally prepared for a new year of hard work and sound academic achievement' sort of thing. I'll do my best for him, and myself I suppose. He's been incredibly generous to me after a certain member of his family let us down. He didn't have to do it, but he has, and will go on doing it as long as I need him too. He is truly a lovely man, and I am grateful. He'll want me to go into the Law probably, but I'm not going to. I'm sure I shall want to do something creative that will occupy my mind as long as I live hopefully…..something a bit more spiritual than accountancy for example.

Even Bryn's gone now…….back to the Doc's place in Norwich. He's landed on his feet nicely hasn't he? I should say so.

We had a couple of great walks before Bryn left for Norfolk. He's really excited about his job, and meeting the likes of us lot in a classroom. He'll be good though…..the boys will like him, and he'll do the business for them academically too, I know he will. He'll have to. The School doesn't accept failure easily, if at all, especially the failure of a teacher.

I don't know what I'm more nervous about…….the new year, or seeing David again. So often, so they say, the summer holiday can change everything. I've had a couple of texts from him in reply to mine, but they weren't sent straight away…….like a day later, that sort of thing. I daren't 'phone him. No, I'm going to wait until I see him on Sunday. He won't be at Liverpool Street because he lives in Hinckley in Leicestershire. His parents will drive him to Norfolk.

I've made another decision. This is the last of my diaries, at least for a while…probably years. Life is going to get more hectic and diary writing, although great fun to do, is a bit all consuming. I just won't have time. The last entry is going to be next Monday night….after I've seen David. There won't be time for anything Sunday evening, but the Monday we have free to sort ourselves out while the teaching staff have a training day. Then everything starts for real on the Tuesday.

Sunday evening, about seven o'clock.

It's Sunday night and I'm tapping this out in the library, so I lied…..I am writing. I was harbouring this vain hope that they would put David and I together in the same dorm but we've ended up at opposite ends of this bloody great pile. Being realistic, there was never much chance of that…….good thing probably, but assuming things will carry on as before, it makes meeting privately for any length of time extremely difficult. We're all free tomorrow afternoon, so David and I can get out into the city for tea or something…….Jarrolds…….that's a good place. The café bit is huge and we can get a table somewhere out of the way between lunch and tea. It'll be less crowded then.

David said he'd come out. I asked him a few minutes ago. He had an interesting look on his face when I suggested it. I think we're ok because I asked him about the message on the postcard he sent me……..'new and improved'.

'And what was that about David?'

He didn't answer. He just smiled and said……

'Jarrolds tomorrow?'

We found a table right in the corner. I'd sat at the same table with Gerald more than once. There weren't more than half a dozen people in, so we'd timed it right. The waitress was over to us within two minutes and I ordered tea and two pieces of cake. I asked David my first question.

'So….how was Majorca then?'

'Nice. How was Sussex?'

'Quite interesting. How long did you last then?'

I was thinking of the little agreement we made at the end of last term.

'You tell me first.'

I smiled.

'Probably longer than you did.'

'How long then……and don't lie!'

'Ok. Sixteen days. You?'

'Not that long.'

'Oh. I thought you were going to try really hard?'

'I was, but…..'

'But what…….or rather should I say who? Boy……or girl?'

'What do you think.'

'I know what I'd like to think. Am I right?'


I have never seen him look more beautiful than he did at that moment. Of course we're sitting here in our uniform. David's looks new….blazer sleeves just a little too long….shirt collar just a fraction too big…that sort of thing……oh, and new shoes…..square ended jobs……..and new long trousers. He does look slightly different….older I suppose. Strange.

'I think you've grown David….just a fraction.'

'Umm, I have.'

'You seem very certain about that.'

'I am.' he replied, smiling broadly.

He, like me, had just had his hair trimmed. He looked the perfect English schoolboy.

We must have sat there for an hour while I told him about Evert. He wanted me to go first. Every so often he would ask me to elaborate on some point or other, which I did. We're both interested in detail so at times my descriptions of events all got quite exciting.

'Evert…….he sounds really sweet.'

'Oh yes, absolutely…….he was, or rather is.'

'I'm glad you had a nice time. Did you miss me?'

The waitress hadn't much to do…..a girl of about twenty or so at a guess. David observed……

'She keeps looking at us.'

'Do you think she noticed?'


We laughed. Good question……..'did you miss me?'. I think I convinced David that I had missed him, and from what I could gather from him, he missed me too. I had missed him, but his substitute for a few weeks was a reminder to me of what I needed, rather than a replacement. While David is David…nothing can replace him.

I could see he was anxious to tell me about his holiday just as I was excited to hear about it. It turned out that our separate experiences were actually quite similar…..his a familiar one on a beach holiday…….two families staying in the same hotel……youngsters meeting at the pool, playing games on the beach and getting on well. That's all it takes. By the time he had finished telling me about it, we were thinking along similar lines. There were a few moments of silence before David announced……

'I need the loo Jon, sorry.'

'Can you hang on for a couple of minutes David?'

I paid our bill before we went.

By the time we had reached the end of London Street, cutting through to Tombland, and over the crossing opposite the Maid's Head, we had only scratched the surface of everything we wanted to say to each other.

Tuesday morning.

There's no other feeling quite like the first morning of a new school year. For me, it's a mixture of dread and excitement. Breakfast had been noisy, apart from the new ones in their ridiculously stiff new shorts that almost hid their knees, and too scared to chatter, and hair roughly combed into order but nowhere near the standard that their mothers would have wanted. Some will love it, and some will hate it, but none of them were given the choice. All of them will need a friend. They are the last to go up to the serving hatch. I look along the line. There is one in particular. I can immediately recognize the type…….nice looking and good at games……probably clever too. He just has that look about him.

I've had another surprise too. I've had a letter from Bryn. It was only a few lines, but the envelope contained a silver Yale type key.

'Dear Jon, Thought you might need this. Consider it a bolthole ok? It was the Doc's idea but I thought it was a good one, don't you? You will remember what we said won't you. Love Bryn ps Good luck today.'

We had discussed it. I wasn't to recognize Bryn around the school. The fact that we knew each other was our business and no one else's. That's fair enough. He needn't worry, because I know exactly how to behave. Of course David knew about it all too, or rather the bits he needed to know, and I knew I could rely on him.

Morning Assemblies happen in the Cathedral. The whole of the Senior School can fit in, just, as do most of the teaching staff. I'm in my usual place with a view of the Elizabethan musician, Osbert Parsley, posing on his marble tablet attached to the massive round pale stone pillar to the left of me. I can see the back of David's head about ten rows in front of me, and while we wait for the familiar office to begin, I'm thinking about the key I can feel in my pocket. I'm in two minds as to whether to tell David that I've got it. I think Bryn has taken a risk giving it to me, and I'm surprised he did it. I know it's not so he and I can meet privately…….there's no chance of that now he's teaching in this place. That's professional suicide for him if it ever came out, and for me too, come to that. No, the key is for my benefit and whoever I choose to take there I suppose. As soon as I opened the letter with the key in it, I texted Bryn.

Thanks for key. Is the doc there?

No. Away for month

This afternoon? 4.30?

Ok. 79 upper st giles. Just before big church on right. Red door. Ring bell

Bryn looked exhausted. I rang the bell having found the house quite easily. It's a fifteen minute walk. He showed me into the kitchen and put the kettle on. He hadn't said a word up to that point.

'You look knackered Bryn. Are you ok?'

'I'm ok thanks. I've just got in.'

'Sorry. So how did it go then?'

'Fine. Just bloody exhausting, that's all……you know…….getting everything up and running. It's going to be tons of work. You lot are going to be a challenge. Still, that's the job isn't it? At least I've got one.'

I stood next to him beside the kettle which was noisily working its way up to boiling point. He looked sideways at me and smiled. I told him…..

'You'll get to like us eventually.'

'I know I will, and I know it will be hard to start with, but I'm going to make it work. I have to. The Doc's been incredibly helpful. We've got on really well.'

'Where is he then?'

'Down in London. He said I needed to be left alone to cope for myself, and he's right. It's my job and I'm going to do it my way. By the way, I'm seeing David tomorrow. Did he tell you?'


I must have looked weird because Bryn instantly replied….

'He's in my English set, you daft idiot! I've seen his name on my set lists.'


I noted with interest my reaction to his subtle joke. Silly me. I must be more fond of David than I think I am. I went on….

'Anyway, thanks for the key.'

'No problem. Come up any time you want so long as it's your normal free time, but I don't need to tell you that do I?'

'No you don't.'

'And I'll let you know when the Doc's around, although I'm sure he'd like to see you. He's interested in your progress, in the literary field that is…….and use my room if you want. Don't worry, they're no hidden cameras……at least none that I know of. Mind you, there might be a microphone under the bed.'

We both laughed at that disgraceful suggestion.

'What, one of those motion activated ones? Can I come here with David?'

A slight pause……..

'Yes of course, but I'm taking a slight risk….. more than a slight risk actually.'

He was right. I gave him back the key. It was my decision, and I'm not about to let Bryn's kindness end his career before it has started.

That was two weeks ago. I've not seen Bryn to speak to since, and we're all up to our necks in work. I go to bed and I'm asleep in seconds, and when I wake up, there's no time for anything……not even that . The situation with David hasn't changed, at least not from my angle, but I've had no opportunity to be alone with him for any length of time. One good thing……Uncle has invited me to Broad View next weekend and I've asked David to come with me. Uncle likes him so it should be nice. David wants to tell him about Bryn too…….how much he enjoys being taught by him. That'll be good news for Bryn. Uncle is Chair of the Board of Governors.

I've been thinking about how to end all this. It has to end as I'm just too busy to do my diary justice……to give it the time and thought that it deserves. Some, or many, may well think that what I talk about deserves no time at all and such things should never see the light of day. But that's what we do isn't it…….us teenagers? I think that even at our tender age we are entitled to live and love like anyone else. The fact is that I'm quite intensely fond of another boy slightly younger than me. That's a fact, and as far as I know, that's not a crime. It's also a fact that we both enjoy a physical relationship…….a sexual relationship no less. I have taken care thus far not to describe events in detail, but to imply in my text that they happened, which of course they did. That scenario requires care and thought if we are not to do damage to ourselves and others.

Gerald taught me how to make love in a tender and loving way I sincerely hope, a boy with another boy, and I was a willing pupil.

It was my fault that it ever started two years ago in that swimming pool changing cubicle. I offered him something that he couldn't resist, poor lad, so he gave in and I had my way with him. I was eleven and he was sixteen. We both thought it very nice so we went on from there, and then one day it was all over. Fair enough. Naturally the Authorities couldn't tolerate such things and a foot was put down with a loud clump and that was it. But two boys more or less the same age…….that's slightly different……..still not acceptable as far as they are concerned, but different. How to resolve all this…..that's my problem.

Sunday night

We are back from Broad View now. David and I caught the train from Thorpe Station after Games on Saturday, and walked up through the garden to the house. It's just a five minute stroll. Neither of us had showered after our game so we both had dried mud on our knees. I could feel it catching on my trouser legs. We were put in the room we had before….the big one that faces the garden. Adjoining it is a bathroom containing a huge old fashioned bath with massive brass taps……..room enough for two boys our size. The enamel had long since failed with countless scrubbings with abrasive cleaning agents I would imagine so our skin stuck slightly on the surface despite the lubricating hot water, and the white finish had changed to a tan colour in a broad line under the mixer tap right down to the large plug hole. Neither of us wanted our back against the tap so David sat between my legs and leant back against my chest…..my feet just touching the end of the bath, and my arms around his middle…….the palms of my hands resting on his tummy.

A few words of explanation at this point.

I'm going to do what I haven't done thus far……. to describe events which inevitably contain very explicit detail concerning two boys who wish to, and do make love to each other. I doubt if many people would want to be privy to situations like that, and would be offended by such descriptions. I would say that there's nothing brutal, unkind, non-consensual, dirty, unfeeling, insincere or immoral in my own view, about what happened. As I sit here in a corner of the House library writing this, David and I are still friends who have recently expressed their affection for one another in ways of our choosing. That's it really. Consider the fact that sex, and exactly how we go about it, is important to David and I. We enjoy it fully and wonderfully and with everything that goes with it….sometimes even a little pain. Why should I not describe how we feel?

Uncle would be back on the last London train. Mrs Cutforth, his housekeeper, had showed us to our room and told us that dinner would be at seven thirty. We wouldn't see uncle until breakfast the following morning at nine. We would go with him to morning service at Braydeston Church at ten thirty.

'Is it ok if we use the bath please? I've still got mud on me from games.'

We watched as the door closed quietly behind the elderly lady who has been unswervingly loyal and kept Uncle's Edwardian house so well for him this last thirty years. David was standing near the window with half an eye on the garden….the fingers of his left hand just resting on a glazing bar of the heavy sash window. I sat on the edge of the large double bed. I looked at my watch. It was just after five thirty.

'I'm going to run a bath David.'

It felt odd saying the words as my mouth was quite dry, and they seemed to echo around my head. It was if I was somewhere else……standing in a corner of the room watching me say my own words. David turned and walked towards me. He stood still in front of me with his head slightly down and his arms hanging loosely beside him. I could see his top teeth over his lower lip.

'Are you ok David?'

No answer, save a nod of his head. He wasn't looking at me.

'It's been ages hasn't it.'

Another nod.

'Do you want to?'

Another nod.

Gerald would undress me ritually. I loved that gradual process culminating in the removal of the last item of clothing, fashioned in a style which I had insisted my mother provide for me because he much preferred them, and were like his. Some things are not for me. Right at the start of the undressing me process, it was quite obvious what would eventually be revealed……..my penis………circumcised and slim and reasonably handsome in other ways. I'm eleven years old when he first succumbed to my boyish charms. I couldn't come productively then, but by the time our relationship ended, or rather was ended , I could……just about…….that clear and rather runny watery stuff most boys start with, that lacks one or two of the various ingredients it will eventually contain so that one day another human being will result from it. Clever stuff eh? I can now, properly, being fourteen years old, produce a reasonable quantity of nice creamy whitish stuff. When I say I couldn't come, of course I could orgasm very easily, but nothing came out save a tiny sticky bead of totally clear viscous stuff that would extrude into a long thin string when touched with the tip of a finger. Comparison studies were common in Dorm 1 and several colleagues of mine were at the same stage, or more advanced in one case. There were two boys who produced nothing at all, to their great chagrin. I happen to know that all was well a year or so later, bless their little cotton socks.

Gerald taught me how to pleasure him with my mouth and tongue, as he would me. I was always first, and then it was his turn. His penis was no longer than mine, but considerably thicker, and amazingly hard when I squeezed it, which I loved to do…. really hard…….and his balls too. I would squeeze his balls as heard as he could bear. From the beginning I noticed that the Cowpers fluid he produced in abundance tasted different from his semen, which he also produced in what seemed to me, buckets. When I had satisfied him completely…..when his orgasm had eventually subsided……..and I wouldn't leave him unattended until it had…….I would cover my still hard cock in a mixture of my saliva and his spunk……..an invitation he always relished. More often than not, I would come again, usually more intensely, and occasionally if we had time, for a third helping.

Gerald always said that it was my bottom that older boys looked at. At that time I had no idea it was so attractive, but apparently it was the talk of the senior studies, as they 'checked out' the latest crop of new boys. These are the days of no back pockets in our grey shorts, and firm and fully formed buttocks are nicely shown off when hands are in pockets, thus stretching the fabric nicely over the area in question. A couple of times I let him try to fuck me properly, but there was no way in the world that was going to work. I was too small and inexperienced, and he was too big, or too thick to be more specific. There was no way I was going to get that thing, gel or no gel, inside my cute little pink bud of an anus. Not that I didn't want it in me, I most certainly did. Right from our first year, we'd had whole class sessions with the School Nurse, and one or two 'extra' ones specifically for us boarders I might add. School nurses don't beat about the bush these days when it comes to matters personal. I remember her going on about foreskins. It didn't affect me as I'm circumcised, as was Gerald. 'Don't force it back' she said…….'Anything that hurts is doing damage' she went on…..'including anything you might do to your bottoms'.

'Like what Miss?'

'Like courgettes…carrots….bottles……..you name it. You'd be amazed what hospitals have to extract from boys' bottoms.' Even I was surprised at that revelation. A bottle for heaven's sake? Good grief. What's wrong with the proper thing? Answer….nothing at all my boy, if you can get it. Actually, having said that, a courgette works quite well, and the bigger the better.

Gerald and I settled for fingers in that region….one, and then latterly two, whilst doing the other thing orally. In fact, near the end of it all, I think we were close to achieving anal sex. One particular pleasure was the being rocked about on all fours as Gerald masturbated to a finish with him kneeling behind me, and his warm viscous cum forcing its way into my anus which I held as open and receptive as I could for him……..a quite delicious sensation indeed. It was like a warm tickle. Another couple of weeks might have seen me filled to overflowing, with Gerald lying on me and up me to the hilt as it were. There was nothing I wanted more. He was much less interested in me going into him, although I did offer.

Here at Uncle's place, David stands before me who is, in my book, as perfect a boy as I'm likely to experience sexually……ever. He looks uncomfortable and constricted by his brief but quite loose fitting underwear, so before I let him remove any clothing, I make him more comfortable. It's the first time I've felt him this way for weeks. He's very hard and I have the distinct impression he's grown slightly….certainly his balls I can feel through the silky cotton material feel more substantial. I haven't touched his skin, and I have always taken the utmost care of him there.

David had asked the nurse about his foreskin because he was worried that it wouldn't retract properly. She had rightly impressed upon him not to force it in any way. In some cases it never retracts, and never actually needs to. According to a parenting site we visited, it can be fully retractable from ages ranging from as young as three up to sixteen as an average. But it hadn't stopped David performing what Gerald could not. David is not a big boy in the willy department, but he's completely adequate and very beautiful, but I doubt if he'll ever be a rival to some of those show offs on the net. No, for me, he's just perfect and is more than willing to satisfy my inner itching. Our nurse who meets us, as I've said, periodically in small groups for Health Awareness, is a fount of all knowledge and is happy to share. In one of our sessions, a boy asked her what a prostate gland was for. She told us all about it. I hadn't got a clue what an interesting little organ that could be, and not only that, but how to find it.

David has never given me a prostate orgasm, but I reckon I've got close to how it feels, especially if I masturbate at the same time as he fucks me for all he's worth, and then I stop shortly before I know I'm going to come. If I lie on my back with a pillow under my hips, David can easily come inside me. His penis is quite slim, and with the gel, he slips in as easy as you like with no discomfort to him or me. The trouble is that he comes like a rocket that way, and before I can get much of the benefit of his glorious thrusting while with my other hand I probe his little bud for him. Latterly, on those rare occasions when we have the opportunity for the real thing, he comes in my mouth first, so when he fucks me for real, he'll take much longer to orgasm a second time. It's just being practical isn't it? I remember that stage myself about two years ago. The urge to orgasm is overwhelming. I've done it in a lesson tons of times, often in maths for some reason. Don't ask me why maths lessons seemed to have that effect on me. Suffice it to say, they did. Mathematics often fails to hold my interest. That must be it.

The boy next to you looks sideways, but just goes on solving his quadratic equations. He's probably already has his feeling that morning, although many boys just aren't interested because they have no need. Are they lucky, or unlucky one wonders?

The boy who asked Nurse the question about the prostate gland wasn't entirely satisfied with her answer.

'So…..what happens when it's stimulated then?'

'The man can have an orgasm.'

Silence for a few seconds. Still not satisfied, the boy continues his questioning……..

'Is that what gay men do then? Do they give the other man an orgasm by putting his willy in his friend's bottom?'

'Some gay men do, yes, but not all. Many gay men don't want to have that kind of sex. I should tell you again that anal sex can be dangerous for various reasons.'

'What then?'

Five minutes later, the poor woman had had enough, and managed to change the subject. I'm sure the boy was 'on the wind' as they say. It was as much as the rest of us do to not to laugh out loud, not at the content, but at Nurse's predicament.

There's not a boy at secondary school these days who's not aware of the various ways to enjoy sex…….man on woman, man on man, woman on woman, and of course boy on boy. It's that simple sadly.

David stands before me, naked now save for his loosely fitting white pants….loose enough to allow his erection to shape forwards at an inviting angle. David's body has lost just a little of his Mediterranean tan, and as I lift the waistband….the word 'autograph' somehow woven into the elastic……over the protruding form, and secure it under the compact ball sac beneath, I can see David's penis is larger than the last time I saw it in its present state. There's been a change. It's more mature…..generally a more serious object. The corona is more defined and a shade lighter than the surrounding skin as its ridge presses into the thin tissue of the stretched prepuce that covers it.

'Look Jon…..watch this.'

David holds his shaft at the base with his left hand, and with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, he slowly slides the flimsy glove of tissue over the deep mauvish pink of the glans to reveal its entirety.

'Oh wow! When did that happen David?'

'On holiday when……'

'When what David?'

'By Glen's pool.'

'Glen's pool? Is that the boy you met?'

'Yes. They had a pool at their apartment. His family invited me up there to swim and…..'

'And what?'

'And sunbath and stuff.'

'Right. So that's where you played the foreskins game is it?'

'No….well once we did. We were lying on our towels after a swim and Glen's got big. I could see it. When it did, he pulled the skin down. I said I couldn't do that with mine.'

'So how could you see his then?'

'We always ran around with no clothes on. They all did……except on the beach.'


'Yes…..his sister too, and his mum and dad. Glen said he wanted to see mine, and why wouldn't the skin go back, so when I tried to pull it back….it did, just like that.'

'So was it sore then?'

'No, not really……a bit pink maybe. Glen's father is a doctor and he looked at it for me. He said it was fine. He asked me if I masturbated a lot. I think he knew because he smiled and patted me on the shoulder and told me to go easy on it for a couple of days. I couldn't think of anything to say. Glen laughed.'

'Oh, poor you. So did you?'


'Go easy with it?'

'No, not really.'

'Was that Glen's fault then?'

'Mainly. He said saliva would be good for it.'

Now, that was funny.

'I bet he did. You were a lucky boy then. So what's the other thing then? You told me there were two things when we had tea in Jarrolds? We've had the foreskin news. What's the other thing?'

I of course, had my suspicions. Then David asked…..

'Can we have our bath now?'

I'd filled it about one third full. The water was beautifully hot and we had to wait a bit before we could get in. I went first. My feet were near the tap end. David stepped in and sat himself down between my legs and leant back onto my chest with his head under my chin. We were both hard within two minutes, my cock, very perky, wedged between his bottom cheeks. David was playing with his, moving his foreskin up and down without revealing the head properly. I manged to wriggle my hand under him and found his anus with the tip of one finger. He instantly reacted to the sensation. Using the half worn bar of soap, I lubricated the still tightly closed orifice and penetrated him a centimetre or so…….far enough for now. David emitted one of his incredibly sexy little exhalations of his sweet breath that he always gave me when I touched one of his sweet spots. I began kissing his neck as he began to masturbate slowly. I know he adores being kissed around his neck, and of course other places too. I felt his firm balls neatly enclosed in the soft pouch, and like the boy's penis, I imagined they too had matured slightly.

'You are watching aren't you Jon?'

'Yes, I am watching David. You'd better warn me though.'

He didn't as it happened because he was far too involved to remember to tell me that he was about to come. Anyway, I didn't miss the great event…….the first time I had seen him ejaculate real semen. It wasn't very much…..one little squirt of the clear watery sort that most boys start with, including myself, followed by a dribble onto his thumb. I had held his balls throughout and as I felt them churning away in my fingers, it happened for him. The kind of noises he makes during orgasm I have mistaken for crying, but he's not. His body is quite mobile and I hold him tight during those lovely moments, and then when the feeling subsides gradually, I let him go. He's breathless as he turns over to face me…….

'Did you see?'

'Yes I did see. You're a beautiful and very clever boy.'

'Was I beautiful before?'

'Yes you were just as beautiful……just a little different now that's all.'

He gave me a lovely smile.

'Are you pleased then?'

'Yes of course I am…..pleased for you too.'

'So I am then?'

'Am what?'

'New and improved?'

'Yes David, you are indeed new and improved, but I sincerely hope that the real 'you' will never change.'

Lying in bed, David gave me a blow by blow account of his holiday which was inevitably dominated by his little romance with Glen, as mine was with Evert. Needless to say, I had to return the compliment with the slower burning events with my sweet French boy. I think he thought I would be hurt by his admission that Glen was the first to witness this latest aspect of growing up, but I wasn't hurt in the slightest.

'Of course it doesn't matter David.'

These were tender moments between us that had nothing to do with sex….just being together, warm and naked under the sheet, but David is a sensitive soul and is well aware of my urgency.

'Can we try again? I want to.'

I keep some essentials in my tuck box at the House. I keep it hidden inside a small box, thus minimizing the chance of it being seen by those at school that shouldn't, and must not. That would never do. Tesco's have a do-it-yourself style checkout in the city, so it wasn't difficult to sneak that item in amongst a few other things. I had brought it with me on the off chance, and we had an hour before dinner.

I wanted to see his face, so he lay on his back on the floor, his hips supported by a pillow covered in a towel. David has a supple body and with his knees held right back and wide apart, I had good access to his anus which I filled with the furtively acquired lubricant and a fair amount of my saliva. With that and a liberal coating on my penis, we were ready.

I was more ready than I thought. It must have been about two minutes of gradual penetration, and things were going well…..too well. I must have been half way inside my lover's bottom when I realised that I was out of control. The sheer pleasure and the immediacy of the situation was too much to bear, and I had come…just like that, but we had succeeded, more or less. He had received me. We lay on the floor together afterwards, and neither of us spoke. It became obvious that he needed to get back in the bath.….the second time within an hour.

Talk about this story on our forum

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

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

* Some browsers may require a right click instead