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You are here: Home > Story Shelf > All Authors > Rafael Henry > I Never Said I Loved You | Part 3 | Rafael Henry

I Never Said I Loved You

by Rafael Henry

Part 3

London.

I went up to help Anders pack up the flat the next weekend. It didn't take long. All Lucien's worldly goods fitted nicely into a small suitcase of mine, including his precious teddy bear. There were a few larger bits that Anders had and wanted to keep so they came too, all loaded into one of the school's two new minibuses. Raif came along for the ride. He wanted to, bless him. Raif's room- mate Jacob wanted to as well but Raif told him firmly that he couldn't come. You should have seen Jacob's face. He just looked down and nodded his head.

'Sorry Jacob, but…….it's a long way and…..well…….you wouldn't like it. You'd get………tired. Sorry Jake.'

Oh poor crestfallen boy! Never mind. You've still got Raif. He's your rock and your defence against the slings and arrows of life here. Gradually you will regain your confidence and become independent, which you must do, and not need Raif's support. I'll keep you here at Herons, but in the other room with another suitable room-mate. Besides, I have another plan for you Raif; and for Lucien.

And what a change in Jacob, indeed a wonder to behold since the introduction of Raif to his everyday life. We are all smiles now, and when the new day dawns, we are up and at 'em. Good news indeed. With an unsettled boy, there's always a reason. Find the cause, and the solution will emerge with any luck. One has to do something, and it's my job to see that it's done.

I've kept a close eye on the Raif/Jacob situation, which has been easy as they are right under my nose here at Herons. I see everything. No door is closed in any of the Houses the boys and girls sleep in. Every boy and girl knows that it's healthy to make friends and touching is positively expressive and often a kindness, especially in Jacob's case. He has needed a hand on his shoulder, fingers run gently through his hair, sitting with in quiet moments, reassurance when doubts rise, and encouragement to accept the hurly burly of life and learn to cope positively. Oh Raif. How could I ever doubt that you would rise to meet the challenge. But what I thought would happen, did. Jacob is such a tactile creature. Side by side, every night, every morning, the intimate spaces two boys occupy, one desperately needing the other. The other comfort giver finding himself wanting. It was just a matter of time.

The question is, how much should I intervene? The relationship between the two boys has become obviously physical. The next stage? Should I prevent this from happening? I could, easily, by separating them. I can send Raif back where he came from. Robin Goodlove I thought had the right answer.

'So long as neither boy is harmed, physically or emotionally. You must talk to them both, together preferably, and tell them you know what they are doing. Take it from there. If there is shame or any kind of coercion, then put a stop to it instantly. If there is enrichment, pleasure too, and spiritual growth, a responsibility to each other to be kind and thoughtful, then monitor and allow. I look back at my early encounters with a good deal of pleasure as it happens. Let them learn about love Rufus, but keep the bedroom door firmly ajar . You will need to see.'

It was like parting a lamb from its mother when the time came to prize Jacob Caslan away from Raif.

I had kept the door firmly ajar.

I had my first talk to Jacob a week after I had moved the thirteen-year-old Raif into Herons to keep his eleven-year-old charge company. Raif has taken his duties towards Jacob seriously as I knew he would. My mind goes back to that moment when my mother told me that I was to 'mind' Andersson on our journeys to and from school in Exeter. A little later we were to reach a state close to ecstasy during our Seven Days, but never close enough for me. I knew what that word 'ecstasy' meant to me, but I'm sure that Andersson wouldn't have. I saw it several times, felt it even, but never dwelled there. Had I suggested it, Anders may well have agreed. I still get breathless thinking about what might have been.

I caught Jacob just as he came through the door at Herons on his own, and took him into my study and sat him down. When that happens, boys know they under some pressure to be truthful.

'So Jacob, are things working out between you and Raif?'

'Yes thanks.' He replies with economy.

'Is that all then? Can you elaborate?'

'He's nice. He makes me feel better.'

'So, he's a comfort to you…….in a way?'

'Oh yes. He feels……he feels good. It feels nice to be with him.'

'Are you sleeping ok? No bad dreams?'

'Just nice dreams.' He replies with a faint smile.

'Not waking up too early, or anything like that?' I continue as I notice Jacob's face flush.

'Anything?'

' Yes Jacob, is there anything you need to tell me; a worry, or anything else?'

'Raif asked me to wake him up in the mornings. He gave me his alarm clock so I can.'

'And he likes that……what you do?'

'Yes.' Says Andersson, deeply flushed now.

Ok, that's a little progress, but I'm not finished yet. One thing I've learnt from my experience interviewing boys in particular, is that they will not volunteer information, but if you tell them they did something, they have much more difficulty denying it. So…….

'Do you mind when Raif puts his arm around you?'

'No. It's nice.'

'When he's in your bed? Is that good too?'

'No. Not in my bed.'

'His bed then?'

'Yes.'

'Is that at night or in the morning Jacob?'

'In the morning…..mostly.'

Ok, I've got it. We talked for around fifteen minutes. At thirteen, Raif needs to be active like almost all boys of that age, and at eleven, Jacob has just begun his exploration. This situation seems to mirror perfectly those Seven Days Andersson and I enjoyed. Who am I to stand in their way?

The four boys who have their home with me at Herons have a strict timetable. I make sure they are all awake by seven and washed by seven thirty, dressed and out of the house by eight, and over to the dining hall for eight fifteen. School starts at a quarter to nine. I wake the boys physically with a shake of the shoulder if they are still asleep. Most will be, or just dozing. Three of the boys sleep in just a tee shirt, and the other one likes his flannel pyjamas, top and bottom. After five minutes, or perhaps a couple of minutes more, I go in to get them out of bed if they are not already out. I'll unceremoniously yank back the duvet. If that's embarrassed them, too bad. There is CCTV in the hallway, but obviously nothing like that anywhere else. I know if a boy, or boys who may have missed out on anything early morning, nips back to Herons at breaktime or after lunch to make up for it. Can't blame them for that.

The washroom is upstairs at Herons, and once the boys are out of bed, and out of their night kit, such as it is on warm nights, they can use one or other of the basins and one of the two separate lavatories. There's an open corner shower too that can accommodate two bodies easily. There might be a little waiting for a basin, a boy standing there waiting his turn, patiently holding his flannel and towel. The impish Charlie appears and stands behind Oliver, his room-mate. Oliver is at one of the basins brushing his teeth. Charlie steps up behind him, puts two hands around his tummy and pokes him between the buttocks, simulating naughtiness. Oliver had pulled his pants down and is peeing copiously into the basin, foreskin stretched back, his penis definitely swollen. The sound of water running made him do it. That would be his excuse. Charlie looks like he's nicely wedged into Oliver now, thrusting for extra effect. Silly boy. He thinks it's highly amusing. That's our Charlie I'm afraid. Small boys think their little pokers are instruments of torture to annoy others like the long-suffering Oliver.

There's another adjacent room with a large bathtub. There's no strict timetable for bathing, but I will monitor things. The boys enjoy their mandatory bathe a couple of times a week, especially in winter time, but as a general rule it's wash basins in the morning, bath tub or shower at night. A check on the laundry basket will tell me if anyone needs speaking to concerning their personal hygiene. Freshly laundered clothes will only be distributed by myself, arranged in one central area. It's a matter of pride how my boys appear at breakfast, not only what others can see, but also what they can't see. Caring is loving in my book. Cleanliness is next to Godliness.

I am always fully dressed before I begin the waking up routine. What Jacob told me about his short journey from his bed to Raif's bed, I already know about. When the boys leave Herons for the dining hall, I check the two rooms. With the duvets drawn back, I go round and straighten the bottom sheets on every bed, something that wouldn't occur to the boys. The domestic staff come in twice a week to change bedlinen, drop off the basket of laundered clothes, and so on. Everything else is down to me and that's how I like it. I straighten the one pillow the boys are allowed and give it a fluff up, and remove anything they have left under it and deposit it into the wicker laundry basket in the hall; or into one of the waste bins if it's disposable. If there's anything to notice during this operation, I will notice. It's amusing what a boy will use when caught short. A sock is quite common, or the that day's pair of pants of course.

Raif has left evidence. In the heat of the moment, it's very hard not to spill. I've seen a maid strip the beds, and put a sheet up to her nose to identify and be sure it is what she thought it was. This is the reality of a boy's bedroom.

At the moment when the boys leave their beds, I like to be present. I can see both rooms from where I'm standing, and I'm largely ignored as an everyday presence they take for granted. I'm seen to be busying myself with trivia. For those that know, it's an obvious ploy to allow me the extraordinarily pleasurable sight of an excited boy as he emerges from his bed, oblivious of his beauty as he goes about his essential business, smooth and creamy skinned, perfumed by recent bed heat, unwashed and untidy, stretching and yawning, firm and lovely, and as naked as the moment when he was born to his mother. I observe as he passes, the slight weight bouncing to the rhythm of his bare footed paces. At the wash basin he stands, undiminished, perhaps unsatisfied this bright morn, or if not, the sensation still lingering, hand aloft as an armpit gets attention from the soapy flannel, sex diminishing like a retreating snake back into its skinny sheath. When will that burning head emerge again? Several times this day perchance, in a daydream perhaps whilst inattentive in a class. Or made to wait until nightfall, and then fulfilment will come once more. Charlie will ask Oliver if he might oblige him, words spoken quietly across the darkened room.

'No Charlie, I'm too tired. Do it yourself.'

'I can't. I need you .'

'No you don't.'

'I do . I'm desperate. Please ?'

There's a wall between my room and the one Jacob and Raif share. It's not made of brick but of some flimsy plastered construction. Sound travels easily through it. At nine thirty tonight I'm alerted. Quietly I move to my open door, and out into the hallway. Now I can see into the boys' room with the beds arranged either side of the closed curtain window, end on to my line of sight, and some six feet apart. Jacob is out of bed and standing in profile over Raif's bed. Raif stirs and turns his face towards Jacob's extended offering. His face moves closer, and then closer still until he's almost touching; and then that part of Jacob disappears; and stays thus. Jacob, head down, with hands on hips, watches as Raif's hand emerges from the covers to divide the boy's upper thighs and forces fingers through the gap now provided, higher, further now and upwards. Jacob moves his feet wider apart to accommodate the welcome and by now familiar intrusion. Jacob still looks downward, but pushes his hips forward in appreciation. Jacob, released now, whispers words to his new friend. Raif draws back the covers and Jacob accepts Raif's invitation. They lie side by side in the narrow space, faces meeting. I shall withdraw and let them be for now. I have noticed a change in my own body. That's how I am. I'll leave it five minutes and then go back.

Curiosity, and the need to know.

I silently intrude on the boys' privacy, and a view through the bedroom door slightly ajar. It's an intimate moment I'm witnessing, Jacob with knees astride Raif's legs, a bottom wide apart revealing the long shadow as it deepens still more to that circular point of recession, a head lowered, a body supported on elbows, Raif's toes a-twitch. Clever Jacob. Lucky Raif. How and when do they learn this? No doubt far sooner than their mothers thought possible in their wildest imagination. Perhaps they never do this trick for their husbands? It was John, my first proper boyfriend who first showed me how. And then it was Andersson, our Seven Days together, the next beneficiary of John's teaching. Sweet little Andersson, love burning brightly, feelings ever more intense.

Oliver peed in the sink again, this time without Charlie launching himself at his bottom. Remind me to have a word with those boys at some point. We can't have boys pissing in sinks. The other thing? Oh, I'll pretend I didn't see Charlie's little caper.

Robin Goodlove's receiving room. Our daily bread; an evening meeting.

'I hear where you're coming from Rufus. Lucien is too young to be sharing with those Estate workers. It's fine for Andersson, but not Lucien at his age. I'd like him to be with you at Herons I think. That leaves us with the problem of what to do with Jacob. Pairing him up with Raif has worked well. I think from what you say Jacob has grown in confidence and could handle a move. Any suggestions Rufus?'

'Yes Robin, I do have an idea. I'd like him to share with one of the girls. Amy Wills is on her own at The Maltings. There's one boy down there and five girls. I think Amy would be ideal for Jacob. She's a motherly type of girl and would look after him. Then Lucien could come in to Herons and share with Raif?'

So that's the plan. All change. As Social Manipulator-In-Chief, I've got my way with Robin. It will be a new experience for Lucien for sure, sharing a room with Raif who is more or less the same age. I wondering how both boys will take to each other, but time will tell.

Lucien is nominally a junior estate worker, but he can opt into academic learning as and when he feels he wants to without any pressure. He'll just appear, with my carefully orchestrated encouragement, at the back of classes. He won't have to do anything but observe, and as and when his interest is kindled, he can begin to take an active part in lessons and learn. It will be gradual process, or maybe a rapid transition from uneducated boy with scant prospects, to a fully committed learner. You never know?

The best laid plans?

I put the idea to Raif and I got a very unconvincing reaction. When I mentioned that Amy Wills needed company at the Maltings, his ears pricked up. He said that moving Jacob over to the Maltings sharing with Amy 'wasn't fair', and I got 'Can't I go?' I'm amazed. After due consideration, Robin decides that Jacob will stay put and Raif will be the one to move out of Herons and join Amy. I'm not sure about it.

So Jacob stays put with us at Herons and Lucien moves in with him. A thirteen-year-old Lucien with the cuddly eleven-year-old Jacob. How will that work? I've heard a few comments concerning Jacob's qualities and I'm not talking intellectual here; 'blond bombshell' being one of them. That comment came from one of our Leaders. He's one of those boys whose quiet yet persuasive demeanour just invites the hand on flesh. I've no idea what Lucien will make of him. Or what the androgynous Amy Wills, the nearest thing to a boy a girl can get, will make of Raif in her room. But when it comes to this issue, I have to be very careful with my words not to offend. As it happens, I have a very soft spot for Amy, and I'm sure that in my own boyhood, she would have been if not my best mate, at least one of them. The girls here can wear a skirt if they want to, or even a stripy summer dress, but Amy eschews the girly things and wears the boys' uniform, shorts, socks, and possibly pants and all. I thought the rather femmy Jacob would suit her well. But perhaps the 'all-boy' Raif would appeal more, come to think of it. We'll see.

Yes, Amy is interesting. A quiet but able all-rounder, the other girls having a tendency to not include her in things, unkindly. Having the more outgoing Raif close to her could be the making of her by proving her acceptability to one of the most desirable boys in the place, boys and girls alike. Her tomboyish character may well be an asset in this case. After all, she does look like a boy apart from the pony tail. As a regular visitor to the pool [to ensure things are working properly] I've noticed her, nude of course like the others, and distinctive with her narrow hips and at twelve, no chest at all. I've seen her in the aptly and amusingly named 'bare garden', a secluded and very private place behind Robin Goodlove's house for the exclusive use of readers, sunbathers, naked if you choose to be, or just for conversation with friends. I noticed Amy lying flat out in the sun one day, and the larger than normal [I'm sure] prominency between her legs. I think the other girls are wary of her for this reason, being a little different to the norm, in their eyes. But has Raif noticed, and if he has, to what effect? Things might go either way with Raif. He's adaptable if he's anything, and might hit it off with her.

Jo Thomas looks after the eleven girls, and now one boy, at the Maltings. Jo Thomas is as gay as they come, and does all things Physical Education throughout the Byrom community. She always sticks up for Amy to her great credit, saying that she has 'special qualities'. Jo gave me the personal lowdown on Amy which intrigued me. I never knew much about this female fountain of pleasure that makes this girl different, but you live and learn.

Simplicity.

Keep everything simple. That's the key here at Byrom House. All the youngsters accept their everyday nudity just as they do in a family environment at home. It's just how things are here. It's normal life. When Lucien joined us a month ago, he found it a little disconcerting to begin with, as anyone would. The first afternoon at the pool for example. There were already twenty odd bodies on view, most in the water motoring up and down the designated training lanes, and some just larking about in the open spaces, all having undressed at the four sides of the pool, leaving their things on the benches. Lucien, standing just in his pants, looked on undecided as to what to do next.

'You can go in like that Lucien. No one's going to notice.'

And they didn't. But thin white cotton when it's wet, affords no barrier to the eye. A minute later, at the edge of the pool, a small boy, a smiling Henry, hands me the garment he found at the bottom of the pool. Good. Lucien has got the idea or his knickers were lost in translation, or by a mischievous pair of hands determined that this new boy [and interesting] on the block was going to be a joiner, not a refuser.

The balance of Lucien's time as an Assistant Estate Worker and Learner has changed dramatically as I had hoped it would. He now spends most of his time productively in classes, catching up on everything he has missed out on academically.

Socially, he has developed positive relationships with the younger and older boys alike. He's seen as someone new, a little different due to his first language being French, with an attractive personality, amongst other endearing qualities. Having him with me at Herons has enabled me to keep tabs on him with nightly chats about his day, when he can tell me anything and everything. His room-mate here, Jacob Caslan, our very own Simon of Lord of the Flies, has been wonderfully understanding throughout Lucien's induction into Byrom House and all It's Workings. I briefed Jacob fully on what his role would be when Lucien arrived at Herons. He was to make sure Lucien knew what to do and when, like a big brother would, albeit two years younger in this case. Now, a month later, the tables are turned and it's Lucien who sits and combs the younger boy's hair in the morning like something out of a Degas pastel, whilst Jacob presents his hands, fingers outstretched to show Lucien pristine finger nails. All the little things are seen to, things of necessity, things of comfort, things of joy. From my workroom I hear chatter at bedtime, and then quiet. I leave them for an hour. When I peep through the door and into the dim light of the room, I can see Jacob sleeping, mouth open, breathing slow and calm, and a wakeful Lucien, dark eyes peeping over the bedclothes. It's time for us to talk, consolidate progress, hear his daily news, and of course, tell him he's loved; not just by me, but by so many now that have come to know him. I tell him he's loved and needed now, this day, and will be in the coming days and years ahead. He's had a rotten deal in life thus far, and that will change as his heart and soul feels the soothing balm from all of us, collectively, that we can bestow upon him. As he takes in the significance of those words, his eyes open wider and he begins to believe.

Andersson.

I have regular meetings with Andersson; almost everyday in fact. He was naturally concerned for Lucien's well-being, effectively the boy's rescuer, so I was able to put his mind at rest.

'He's fine Anders. Jacob looked after him when he first came to Herons, but I think the boot is on the other foot these days. He's found his feet Anders.'

'Is that all. Just his feet?'

'Very amusing. They get on well, that's what I'm saying. That's enough isn't it?'

'It would be nice to know that he's ok; you know what it's like. He's thirteen and….'

'Yes I know, and don't be concerned. He's fine. They are fine. Ok?'

'You know that?'

'Of course I know that. I'm not stupid Anders. I need to know everything. You're forgetting. If there's anything they need, it will be provided. Stop worrying.'

'Well I do worry. Any evidence?'

'What sort of evidence?'

'You know. That sort. Remember our Seven Days?'

'Oh. Physical evidence. Yes, plenty.'

'Really? Plenty of evidence or plenty of it .'

'Both. Do you want me to go into details?'

'If you wouldn't mind. Don't forget I rescued Lucien. I have a right to know these things.'

When boys get in the mood, there's not much that will hold them back, so my old friend Paul said about boarding life at Exeter. Even a boy knowing he's about to be discovered doing something naughty will be quite unable to halt proceedings if he's too far along the road. He'll just carry on regardless. Being unprepared for eventualities isn't going to stop them either. They just do it and to hell with it. I already know of Lucien's capabilities from my short stay in London with him and Andersson. Anders was out at the local shop getting something for our dinner and Lucien needed a lie down on the bed which I happened to be already lying on, as there was nowhere else to put myself. Lying on his side closer to me than I would have expected, he looks at me furtively and asks……

'Would you mind if I did?'

I had no objection, just as I had no objection when Anders asked me the same question at the start of our Seven Days together up in my bedroom after lunch. When Lucien takes my hand and draws it closer to the point of interest, I take it back, smiling at him and telling him in the nicest way that I'd love to be a witness to, but not the provider of his pleasure. A few minutes later, sensing that matters were nearing a conclusion, I carefully draw up his tee shirt to nipple height revealing the beauteous flat plane of his tummy; just in time I might add. Goodness me!

'Well don't be concerned as to his development Anders. He's doing just fine, in fact I'm guessing now, but rather well for his age. Anyway, how are things down at the Lodge? Are you coping with the estate boys down there?'

The Lodge is the residence, a basic one, for the four estate workers we have here. One from Bulgaria, a girl from Latvia, one lad from the Ukraine, and one alternative and amusing scruffy character from Chichester.

'You know where I'd rather be Rufus…….don't you?' says Andersson, ruefully.

I know where I would rather Andersson be too; here with me at Herons. We have unfinished business in the bedroom, and having those two boys in the adjoining room is doing my equilibrium no good at all. I feel off-balance and tempted to do things I definitely shouldn't. There are the usual ways of 'making do' when we have no active partner for amusement, but it's no substitute.

Jacob has worked out where Lucien is when his bed is empty after their nominal 'lights out' time. Once or twice Jacob has woken around ten at night to go for a last wee. He sees the other bed empty and naturally wonders where Lucien has got to. Expecting to find him in the loos somewhere, he does not see him there, or anywhere else in the house. He checks the games room…..not there, or anywhere else it seems. He's concerned so he sees lights still on, taps gently on the door to my workroom knowing that usually at that time I'm still up and open to deal with any issue either here at Herons or anywhere else; and at this point his curiosity is satisfied. He pops his head around the door and sees me sitting on the sofa bed with Lucien. It's always a safe time for Lucien and I to talk quietly about anything and everything, and it's important for both of us to communicate in depth like this.

Now Jacob knows that his new friend has been granted access to my room, and not only that, he's sitting on with me in just a tee shirt and I have an arm around him. The question is, what I am to do about Jacob's new-found knowledge. The only answer is to explain to the younger boy that for reasons that are not really his business, his older pal needs private time with me. What Jacob didn't know was the content of my conversation with Lucien and that he, Jacob, was the subject. I know that the two boys have enjoyed each other's company to the extent that they play quite physical games together; little play fights, pretend wrestling, reacting to finger pokes and so on, all as far as I can tell, instigated by Jacob. Lucien thinks that Jacob wants, possibly unconsciously, a closer friendship. The little physical games he wants to play are unsaid requests for Lucien to react more intimately. A little squeeze in the right place will send the message. Then the boys can relax together, enjoy their playful scrapping, and heated by hope and expectation, they might find themselves on the floor, or bed, touching. It hasn't happened yet. Lucien tells me they have had everything else but that.

'He gets out of bed in the morning and he wants to show me. Then he looks at me to see if I approve.'

'And do you?'

'Of course I do. He's lovely.'

'It's pretty clear to me what he wants. Raif is an affectionate boy and Jacob enjoyed that when Jacob shared his room with him here. You could try sticking an arm around him for no particular reason and just sit with him at bedtime. If it's going to happen it will happen quite naturally. Just edge forward and let it all come from him. A bit of advice Lucien; don't put your lips on any part of his flesh. That may well offend him if he's not really ready for anything as intimate as that. Don't worry, you will find out soon enough. He'll find a way to tell you he's ready for you. Just wait for the green light. It will come.'

The following afternoon, Jacob intercepted me near the bear garden. He was just in his games shorts and carrying his white tee shirt. He looked decidedly sweaty and overheated.

'Are you ok Jacob? You look a little warm.'

'Can I talk to you please?'

'Of course. Here? Or at Herons?'

'Can we go back to Herons please?'

Jacob and I walked back to Herons in silence. Once there and upstairs in his room, I sat with him on his bed. He told me how he was feeling about his life here. I hadn't realised that he had had some low points this term. When Lucien's name was mentioned, I realised something else. He felt that although Lucien seemed to like his company, he didn't really want to be his friend, mainly because he was in Lucien's words, 'You're too young for me'.

'That's rubbish Jacob. He thinks you would be offended if he was more friendly than he is. May I suggest something? Show him how you feel. Try a hug. Something like that, by way of thanks for being your friend. That might do it. Tonight, when you are getting ready for bed. That would be a good time. Just do it. It can do no harm at all. Promise? I can come in and chat if you like. Don't be afraid Jacob because that's exactly what Lucien wants you to do. Don't worry, I'll be there if you need me.'

I found Lucien down at the Lodge chatting with Andersson over a lunchtime sandwich. Lucien is spending most of his time now in classes so his contact with Anders is decreasing steadily, hence their meeting at some point in the day when Anders is free for a while. I told Lucien, with Anders present, about my conversation with Jacob. I don't think he had realised the depth of Jacob's feelings, which are possibly more to do with his pubertal overload. My own view is that Lucien is conveniently on hand to help with Jacob's increasingly urgent educational problem. The boys and girls get all this stuff as early as they can possibly take it in, with full parental agreement I might add. Then the appropriate staff member can field informal specific questions thereafter. It's mad what questions one can get asked, for instance one boy asked me if a boy could get pregnant following anal intercourse with a girl! Ok sweetheart, I think we need to start from the beginning again. Another more realistic query came out as 'If a boy swallows his friend's sperm, will it make him sick?' You never know what to expect next in this place, but I do love it here. Never a dull moment. They say a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. That's why we provide all the information these boys and girls need, and keep reinforcing it so we minimise difficulties when misunderstandings occur. Yes, anal intercourse is mentioned which many people would find an unacceptable topic for discussion with the kids the age we deal with them. One or two of our oldest boys could inseminate a girl. So if we couldn't prevent the two of them having sex in the long grass, they both know they can do it safely 'the other way'. It's most likely that a girl will refuse a boy, who may well turn to another boy for their pleasure. If he comes to me for practical advice, I'll provide it, the means, and anything else to make life comfortable and safe for him and his chosen partner. These boys are not anywhere close to being man-sized. It's really very easy for them.

After our chat down at the Lodge with Anders present, Lucien and I left for the Main School and found a convenient bench to continue our conversation. I wanted to know how he was going to approach his rendezvous with Jacob this evening. I don't want him to make a mess of things and have it all end in tears, both dissatisfied and grumpy. I don't count myself as an authority on the subject of making a boy happy, without going further than either he would want or I would consider safe for him. Since my Seven Days with Anders all those years ago, I've acquired a certain amount of knowledge and expertise in the bedroom, and plenty enough to pass on to Lucien, if he doesn't know it already. I don't think he does judging by Anders' knowledge of his history since he found him in Piccadilly Circus that day. On the bench now, with a good half hour before his next class, seems the ideal moment to find out what he does know, and what he might do with Jacob. From the outset, he was keen to get all the advice about gentle love-making I could offer him.

'First of all Lucien, this will be about him, not you. So if you have to wait a while, until another time probably, then you will have to, ok?'

Ok.

'So it's about taking gentle short steps forward, nothing rushed or rough. Get it?'

Got it.

'You have two important tools to use, and those are your hands and your mouth. When I say hands, I mean finger tip touches as well as palms, and when I say mouth, I mean lips and tongue.'

He nods, head down.

'It's all about movement Lucien, hands and fingers first which you can take everywhere on Jacob's body, keeping well away from the middle bits until such time as begins to demand or even physically directs you to those bits. As and when he does, don't be in any hurry. At the end of all this, and there will be and end for him almost certainly, you want him to recover feeling loved and cared for, and above all happy that it was you who made him so. So all the way through this beautiful process, however it shall conclude, you are expressing your love for Jacob. So pay attention to the parts of his body he won't associate with sex Lucien; his hair, ears and nose, around his neck. Don't tickle! So be firm enough with your hands. Then move onto his chest and nipples, shoulders and along his arms, and then circles around his tummy. Bring your mouth into play now, with some warm breaths around his face, ears, and then his mouth. If he's getting keen, he'll let you kiss him. If he's reticent to kiss you back, leave it for a bit, and then when he's ready, he can come onto you again. He's quite young Lucien so he'll think he's ready before he actually is. If he pushes your hand lower, resist the temptation to fondle him there. That might come a little later. Before that, massage his bottom. I know he'll adore that. But be careful there, he may not like a very intimate intrusion in that place. Do you know what I mean by that Lucien?'

He nods.

'Ok, fine. Little circles around the centre of his universe Lucien. Imagine you're gently knocking at the door. You're telling him you want to come in. He'll let you know if you're pleasing him and he likes it. Going further will be difficult. You'll need help with that, so best leave it for another time, but make promises. The key is to keep asking him what he likes, and what he doesn't, if anything. Slowly slowly catchy monkey Lucien.'

'What?'

'Never mind. Just keep asking him if he likes what you're doing with him. If he doesn't answer you, then keep doing it because it's probably right for him. He may well get impatient, as you may too, so if he pushes your hand onto what you want to end with, keep him waiting, but not too long. That will just frustrate him. Kiss and run your tongue over his skin, everywhere. He'll love it. Then when he gets the idea of what you can do with your mouth and tongue and how good that feels, then you can go where he wants you to be. The rest is easy, but be very gentle and make him wait as long as you dare. You will know when he needs to finish, and don't stop as he does. Keep going throughout and beyond until he pulls you away. He'll know when he wants you to stop. Lie with him quietly afterwards and touch him if he wants you to. He probably will. Talk to him gently and ask him if he's ok. Tell him how you feel about him. Stroke his face a little. I'm sure what you've done will be new to him, if you get that far, so he'll need reassurance. Tender loving care Lucien. He may ask you to perform for him, and he may want to see to your needs himself. Let him choose exactly how and don't insist on anything. He may not, but I think he will feel that he owes you something and want to see what happens with you. Boys are curious when it comes to sex with an older friend who can do things they can't. He may well want to see for himself. He's bound to be curious. Don't ask him to do the things you did for him. Keep it simple for him. Finish it with a few kisses. Sorry, these things are important if you want to express yourselves properly. This is all between you two boys. I don't need any reports or feedback. Just enjoy yourselves. Ok? You're going to the pool aren't you, beforehand?'

Yes.

'That's good. Use the showers to wash off the chlorine smell. Then you'll both be clean. Tell him to wash properly in the shower. Do you know what I'm talking about when I say properly Lucien? He'll know what you mean.'

Wash properly is a term I use with the boys most evenings. They know which bits I'm referring to, namely front and back. If you don't keep telling them, they won't do it. Charlie is a prime example. Red haired and freckly Cheeky Charlie. He hates any form of cleanliness.

'Show me your hands Charlie.'

He does. Go and wash them again Charlie. How Oliver puts up with him I'll never know. Note to self. Charlie's bath night tonight. Thorough inspection needed.

Both Jacob and Lucien were at the evening swimming session in the pool, not in the roped off training lanes, but in the social swimming area to one side. They were playing splashy games together with lots of smiles, duck diving and chasing and catching going on; Lucien doing most of the chasing, Jacob looking delighted to be caught. I thought, here we go . The boys get out of the pool together, Jacob's slightly tanned body and ash blond hair looking like he's just stepped out of the remote desert island set of 'Lord of The Flies', and Lucien, being Ralph to his Simon. They sat together on chairs back from the edge of the pool to watch and no doubt admire the qualities shown off by the other swimmers. I took a wander around to look at all the different sizes and shapes of bodies on show, but kept a weather eye on my two boys. I noticed that Lucien had said a few quiet words to Jacob who was looking down and smiling, clearly liking what he just heard from his hero. When Jacob stood up to don underpants and shorts, it looked like the wheels had already been put in motion by Lucien, or perhaps thoughts had already entered Jacob's head. The angle of the dangle had changed from the normal to something a lot closer to the horizontal. I'll give them a few minutes, but my betting is that they'll be heading for Herons.

I followed them across House Green, an attractive lawned area on the way to Herons. As they crossed diagonally over the perfectly mown grass, they pass by a Leader I'm friendly with, and whose head turned to watch the boys wander past for a few moments. It is indeed a sight worth watching. His name is Matthew, a musician. He stops me in my tracks.

'Are you free tonight by any chance Rufus? About nine?' He asks. I know what his invitation involves. Either someone else has let him down, or he's feeling more randy than usual and wants a deep and meaningful experience. I don't find him particularly attractive so I can last quite a long time with him, which of course is all to his liking. So it's a no thanks, I have other business to attend to, but thanks for the offer Matthew. Tomorrow night maybe.

Tonight, soon in fact, I intend to be in the vicinity, but not a witness to the progress of Lucien's friendship with his room-mate Jacob. Near enough to know, but no more. It's their business what they do.

Bean bags.

These were Robin Goodlove's idea, our Head Man. He says he got the idea from a very progressive school in Denmark which catered for difficult children. Very few of ours are 'on the spectrum' as I've heard it called, usually wrongly attributed to a merely educationally and emotionally frustrated child. He had beanbags put in all the classrooms and any other areas where the boys and girls could stretch out on them and relax. They had a remarkable calming effect on stress, and also enormous fun to be playful with one another. I have one placed in the corner of the two rooms for the boys at Herons. They can use them for 'down' times, which typically are the periods before they climb into their beds, and definitely post washing or showering. No dirty feet please; or clothes for that matter. Boys enjoy playing on them, especially sans clothes. As they twist and turn, they enjoy the feel of the silvery soft fabric on their bare skin, and another boy's skin on theirs. I suspect that many a joyful encounter begins on one of these large bean bags, or indeed ends on one.

Charlie impudent as ever, is resting his head on Oliver's chest, the palm of his hand on the boy's heaving tummy. They are both still and breathless after their play fighting. It was all good innocent fun, although their bodies might suggest a little more is going on. Those thoughts are still below the surface, but only just, and their minds just behind their bodies. I smile as I watch the boys, their breathing slowing, Oliver's restraining hand on Charlie's wrist, the reality of their evening tiredness beginning to overwhelm them. What I've just seen of Charlie makes me order him to the bathroom. It turns out he forgot his bath time. I can rely on Oliver to keep himself clean but not the little toe-rag Charlie. I'll see to the problem myself this time.

'Use it immediately afterwards Charlie; every time you go for the next week at least. Do you understand what I'm saying Charlie? Now you show me.'

Not perfect but not a bad effort. When he was done, he washed his hands without being told. That's good. Apart from a few giggles mid-way, he's got the idea. Another note to self. Another inspection tomorrow night.

'Oliver doesn't have to.' Charlie complains.

'He should do as well, if he's sensible.'

With my hand on his shoulder, I lead the chastened Charlie back into his room and safely into his bed, watched by the more mature [in every way] Oliver. Back at my desk, I'm enjoying a few thoughts concerning our Cheeky Charlie. Yes, he has a few minor failings, not that they worry me, but he's a loveable cove.

It's funny how some things appear to be catching. The following morning Oliver comes up to me in the bathroom. All the other boys have left the room. Oliver is standing, nude as usual, in front of me holding his hand behind him covering his bottom. There's the familiar scent pervading, which tells me the boys have been using the place. I open a second window and a fresh cool breeze begins to replace the bad air.

'I think I need to do what Charlie has to do.'

'Really? Why? Are you sure Olly?'

'Will you look please?'

Oliver stands with his hands on the edge of the wash basin, leaning forwards with his feet wide apart. I take a look, and indeed what I can see needs attention.

'It's terribly itchy.'

That itchy? I doubt it. A little bit of attention seeking I think, but fair enough, that's fine.

It took me a couple of minutes to do the job, a good job in fact; thorough. When Olly stands and faces me, his hand has shifted; now covering the needy front bit of him, not the needy back bit. After a few seconds, he realises the futility of his pretence and removes the hand, and smiles up at me. Some boys, just at the age Oliver is, just can't help reacting in that way to that kind of stimulus, but I'm surprised it happened so fast.

'Does that feel a bit better now Olly?'

He smiles again and nods. Now we are all happy.

'It's kept up there on the shelf when you need it.' I say, pointing to the large oval bottle with the dark blue dispenser plunger. 'You should be able to manage that yourself if you're careful. And don't forget to wash your hands afterwards.'

Speaking of which, I push up the lever tap and run warm water and soap over my hands. With the boys off to the dining hall for breakfast now, I have a few badly needed minutes to compose myself at my desk. I'm thinking about Lucien and Jacob, last seen making their way over to Herons yesterday afternoon. They would have had a good hour to themselves before Tea. Lucien wanted advice about how to enrich his friendship with Jacob, and I gave it to him. Lucien's position here is very different from the other boys and I regard him as a proxy relative. I could never have said anything like that to one of the boys. Lucien is a sensible boy. He'll interact with Jacob appropriately I'm sure. At some point, soon I hope, I'll get an update from Lucien on how things went with the nubile blondie Jacob. If I can catch up with him this morning, I'll take him to the Bear Garden and we'll talk.

After morning break I found Lucien. He was free until lunch. The Righteous Brothers passed by, looking doubtful as usual.

'So, how were things after I left you yesterday afternoon Lucien?'

'Fine thanks. Jacob and I went to our room to…….you know, to relax after our swim. It was Jacob who broke the ice.' He says, knowing exactly what my question was about.

'How?'

'He came and sat next to me on my bed. He just looked at me. He's beautiful.'

'Did you tell him that?'

'In a way I did. When he laid his head against my arm, I put it around him. He's lovely.'

In a way? What way? A pause while I waited for further news, but nothing came out of Lucien's pretty mouth. He has the most beautifully formed top lip, amongst other things.

'So, are you two in deeper water now?'

'I think so.'

'You just think? Not know?'

'Yes.'

'So has he let you in to his secret?'

'Yes, sort of, but we had a problem.'

Oh dear, that's my fault. I think I had prepared Lucien well for most aspects of his close encounter with Jacob, but one practical issue I had neglected. I'm constantly amazed how sophisticated boys can be these days, what with all the information they have to hand. There is very little about sex they don't know about, or prepared to try for themselves. It would have been unheard of when I was their age, sadly, our Seven Days being good example. For boys who want to experiment, it's easy as they are physically smaller. Smooth and silky little mice, they can get into spaces very easily where bigger animals would have problems with.

Our Seven Days together. Anders is lying there, ready for me it would appear. In position. A closed door ready for me to walk through, if it will open. He's watching as I kneel over him, my silky smooth weapon poised between my fingers.

I'm furious with Charlie and Oliver. They should have known better than to follow Lucien and Jacob to Herons and then, after things got moving in the bedroom, poke their silly heads around the door. I bet it was Charlie's idea. He's quite a small boy for his age, and naughty with it. I have visions of putting him over my knee! Well, perhaps that would not be advisable in these days of enlightenment. Anyway his untimely presence put the brakes on what might have been Jacob and Lucien's big moment. Apparently all four of them had their collective moments which would have been a nice consolation prize for Lucien. That's a first then. When Lucien described the scene I'm sure my jaw had dropped in astonishment. It was all on Jacob's bed, this little love-in between the four boys.

Lucien has qualified for the first Report in his educational life as far as I knew. Something he can show to his mother. I know that he's an able boy, and it's my mission to see he gets the opportunity to achieve at least something that will be of use in his future. English he's struggling with, but that's to be expected. Numeracy has not been a mystery, nor will his native foreign language, French, the only one taught here, apart from putting it on paper. That leaves a few other subjects that he'll catch up in due course fairly easily. To do all this he joins the younger boys which they like. They see him as a loveable novelty. It's wonderful how understanding boys can be when they can see a good reason for things.

With the long summer vacation looming in a couple of weeks, Andersson, Lucien and I have decided that Lucien should go home to Tottenham and see how it goes with mum and his siblings, with his school report in his hand. Maybe the sight of that will open mum's eyes to the possibilities for her son. Then, if mum agrees, he can come down by train to Teignmouth and join Anders and I. Since Anders has been here working on the estate I've seen precious little of him. He's been to the daily keep fit Leader's evening swimming sessions a couple of times, the first time in a borrowed swimsuit from one of the boys. The second time he acceded to the norm and wore nothing. I knew he was going to turn up, so I kept my eye on the others to gauge a reaction from them. A new boy in all his majesty. The Righteous Brothers were in attendance, clad in the most uninspiring swimming shorts you can imagine. I sometimes wonder if either of those po-faced dicks actually have dicks. They certainly don't have any balls, in the other sense of that word. If they have, you wouldn't know. Swimming kit is on the clothing list for all the boys and girls, but it's seldom needed, apart from official trips to the nearby beaches when a moment of public nudity might spell disaster for the School's reputation. For the boys, the speedo style is required, as it is in all the Continental public pools. A good rule in my view, literally in my view, and I might add in the view of the tedious Righteous Brothers too, as they take an extended glance at the handsome newcomer, Andesson Van Herrin, who looks very well in his borrowed swimming knickers. The Brothers, whose nickname even amused the usually very straight Robin Goodlove, teach History and Maths, and are generally disapproving of the 'Openness' which mercifully prevails here. Most of us wonder why they are here in this' bed of iniquity' as they call it. Needless to say Robin tolerates their attitudes according to his policy of 'inclusion'. What a laugh. I guess he's right though.

Openness.

That's the key to the success of this establishment I'm sure, and the fact that it exists here in the way it does is a tribute to Robin Goodlove's leadership. That concept pervades everything. So if you've a problem understanding, then ask and you shall receive until there is understanding, however long that takes. If you feel you need something, then discuss it with those that may provide for your needs. And so on.

The Righteous Brothers .

I've altered my opinion on these two, just slightly. Not everything goes right for our boys and girls. Bad news comes in the form of a telephone call to the Office, to be carefully and sensitively relayed to the boy or girl, or by a letter. These matters are not secrets and bad news is to be shared and the person concerned, distressed, supported by those around them. News is rarely bad enough to remove the boy for any significant length of time. When Jacob had a letter from home that upset him, Lucien was there for him. He told me and I spoke to Jacob. The news was indeed upsetting but wasn't going to change the boy's life. A dog is not a human after all, but yes, worse than a hamster I suppose when it dies. Lucien, despite not having much of an example at home to follow, did our Jacob proud. He was soon smiling again. And kindness wasn't exclusive to Lucien either. One of the 'R' Brothers had taken poor Jacob in his time of trouble into what pretends to be the School Meeting House, which is just a small room serving as a sanctuary for any boy, girl or Leader to take refuge in times of personal need or for any other legitimate reason. In this place one can communicate with 'The Spirit', a proxy God I suppose, and Robin's home for spiritual enlightenment, Unitarianism. This offshoot from Presbyterianism was a good choice of Robin Goodlove's as it is all-encompassing and, here's the word, inclusive . Inclusivity is good. I agree. It means that this quasi religion welcomes all denominations so any boy or girl that enters these portals is included, whatever their religion, or none. Born into the Anglican Church, I'm sticking to that, and if I was born again, I think I'd opt for Catholicism, and I'd be fine here hopefully. The Brothers can be seen at every Sunday meeting, and I'll give the Brothers that, they do care. I'm sure that the totally lovely Jacob appreciated that loving gesture they received in the Meeting House. I once asked the Brothers why they were teachers. I got an amusing answer….

'We are teachers so I can protect children from their parents Rufus.'

Nice one. I remember my old friend and erstwhile sexual techniques instructor, John, and his memory of the answer he got from the same question he asked of one of his teachers. 'To teach is to love.' There's plenty of that around this place. None of Robin's Leaders are married, although a few are in permanent relationships, all same-sex. So the Brothers aren't so bad after all, but I still couldn't contemplate waking up between them in their big double bed. Sorry, but it's a big 'no thanks', in the unlikely event they should ever ask.

The other matter that endeared me to the Brothers was their support for my my ideas concerning a specific uniform for the summer term only. The idea of adopting a simple style was adopted, and from now on the boys and girls would wear the same lightweight pale beige cotton shorts with no pockets, elasticated waistband, and white tee shirt, short white socks and open leather sandals. Hairstyles optional as always. Winter kit of grey shorts, polo shirts etc. was all put away in favour of the new 'see all' warm weather outfits. See all? Oh yes. Boys fiddle with themselves constantly it seems, especially the youngest, and now they will have to fiddle with their hands inside their shorts and not through their pockets. Watching our troopers parading around the place is indeed a joy to behold. Just visualize the ash blond Jacob in his new summer kit arm in arm with Lucien, on their way to sunbathe naked in the Bare Garden. It's worth remembering that the boys and girls spend just five hours in classes and curricular activities out of twenty four. That leaves nineteen left, say eight asleep of those, but the rest?

With regard to our personal relationships, our mantra, Openness applies, and when I say 'our', I mean all of us including the Leaders and Managers. There's no point in hiding our sexuality or preferences. Honesty is a quality considered to be of the highest value here. No one will ask you anything very personal, which would be considered offensively nosey. So there's great virtue in openness with one another, and at the same time, one's privacy must be respected, and is. It's all about gain, not pain.

He had never mentioned it, but after leaving school Anders had acquired a City and Guilds qualification in Horticulture, which qualifies him perfectly for his role here, and he's certainly enjoying doing something that he feels worthy of his time and effort. The only real way of getting private time with him is to whisk him off to the local pub in the village, the King's Head, for a couple of drinks. I've found that he's still the good friend he was all those years ago which culminated in our Seven Days together. Better than a good friend. I don't drink beer, too filling, and neither does Anders for the same reason. A couple of scotches is fine for both of us, and after those two that first evening, we both wanted to catch up on matters non-conversational.

It seems that neither of us has lost the desire for each other's bodies. He's obviously a mature physique these days as I am, but we can reminisce easily enough. From what he says, the pendulum swings both ways for him, enabling him to satisfy the desires of both men and women, whereas mine stays strictly to the male side of the arc. I told him that he still does it for me, and he said he would be happy if I did it for him, should I feel the need.

Who's on top?

On this issue of who goes on top, me or Anders, there was never any doubt when we were kids, that it would be me. We never discussed it; it was just a natural given. A fact. We would have wanted it that way, and I still do. Two boys, fully aroused and ready for action, him with his hands behind thighs and pulling legs as far back as legs can go and showing me the door to heaven, me poised but not really knowing what to do, and importantly, how to make it happen.

By the time Anders and I had made it back to base in Herons, the kids were all safely in the land of nod, and we could proceed to my bedroom and continue our conversation. He slept with me until the agreed alarm call at five the next morning when he decamped back to the Lodge, having not been missed. If Anders upped and told me one day that he was going back to his old and thoroughly unsuitable life up in London, I would be devastated. And the big news is that he's agreed to come with me to the house in Teignmouth for part of the summer holiday. We'll have three weeks there before he has to return to work at Byrom House, according to his employment contract. By the end of our time together on holiday in Teignmouth, we will both know more of what we want to do; something permanent, something occasional, or nothing. Whatever happens, he will always be my little boy. I do love him. There's something that will recur in our nocturnal talks together. In bed Anders wants to be held, just as much as I want to hold him. There's such comfort to be had in each other's arms. I can't help wanting to remember our past together; those brief Seven Days fourteen years ago.

Reminiscence.

'Sweet boy. That's what you called me.' Says Anders, arms together in front of his chest, smiling in the half light.

'Did I?' I answer, pretending I couldn't remember.

'That's what you said .'

'Oh, what a memory. Ok. I suppose you must have been then.' I say, holding him a little tighter and drawing him so close to me now that I can feel his mood.'

'Do you remember teaching me how to kiss? That was our first night together.' he says, touching my lips with the tip of a finger.

'I do. You got quite good at it as I recall. Eventually.'

'Cheeky. I couldn't believe it when there was just one bed in your room. I thought I'd be sleeping somewhere else.'

'My mother assumed that two boys could share a bed and sleep without any distractions. In her naivety she had no idea what boys want from each other.'

'Need, in your case.'

'I needed you Anders. You can't imagine how badly. You were the epitome of beauty in my eyes; the pure embodiment of the perfect boy; that fairest of fair hair curling around your ears, lovely straight back and long legs, and…….all the rest of your lovely body; and mind of course.'

'Yeah, especially my mind? You haven't mentioned my special bit. Sub-standard was it? I seem to remember you liked it at the time; walking side by side with your hand on it. I have a very clear memory of those moments Rufus. It gave me the tingles. That naughty hand of yours creeping inside my shorts. What is it about then Roo? Might you explain?'

'At least it was at the back, not the front. Anyway I thought I had explained at the time.'

'Actions speak louder than words do they? I suppose at the age we were, some things we would never have thought of; or thought possible.'

'And now?'

'All things become possibilities I suppose.'

'Do you think so Anders?'

'Yes I do. And talking of which, exactly how many bottoms have you scrutinized since?'

'One or two. I had a friend at Exeter; John. I mentioned him to you at the time. He was a little older than me, just as I am a couple of years older than you Anders. I was fourteen and he was fifteen at the time. We thought we'd give it a try.'

'And?'

'And, yes, fine thanks.' I say with a chuckle, like there was nothing to it.

'Anyone since then; like in this place?'

'One. Just the one. Some boys, I mean men, sorry, don't like it.'

'Not one of your Righteous Brothers I hope?'

'You're joking. They wouldn't know what to do with it. Anyway, they're too busy communing with each other. I can't imagine the sins they don't commit in the privacy of their own quarters. A whole heavenly host of them probably.'

'It? How is it ; for you?'

'Come a little closer and find out Anders.'

'Like the old days then?'

'Why not? I miss your silky little worm Anders. '

'As the weapon emerges from its sheath, like a watery sun, glittering, rising in the early morning like a spring shoot?'

'Shoot? I assume things have changed in the meantime. Do you remember Anders? We were at the end of our garden in the shade of the apple tree just in our dinky little knicks?'

'When I made you kneel in front of me in the long grass? That morning in bed, you had just kissed me like never before.'

'The stiff little worm I popped out from it's skinny hiding place? Yes, I do remember. How could I forget that moment of truth. Being different from you, I didn't know you could do that little trick with it. Quite a revelation.'

'It was the truth wasn't it. I think we both knew by that time.'

'Yes, we knew. Everything so soft and smooth, like silk. There was only one thing to do with it Anders.'

'Two things as I recall.'

'Indeed. The perfect combination in my book, and yours too I believe. I think my mother had worked us out by that time.'

'Yes. When two giggling boys run up to the bedroom in that state, it's pretty obvious isn't it?'

'Absolutely. I'm afraid some of the words I meant to say never got out of my mouth Anders.'

'Your mouth was far too busy at the time, so you have the perfect excuse Rufus. Anyway, actions speak louder than words. I'm sure I preferred your sweet lips to sweet nothings at that moment. I had never felt anything like that before.'

'Or since Anders?'

'Have you realised that I've had a foot in both camps Rufus?'

'Both teams?'

'Yes. But girls can't do what boys can do. I guess I can get it both ways. We got close didn't we?'

'I'm not sure if you had that in mind Anders? Were you aware of the possibility back then?'

'You mean back there ?'

'Yes. It was in my mind but I couldn't ask you for that, not then, even if you wanted me.'

'I did want you Rufus. But now is different isn't it. No holds barred?'

'We've got two boys asleep next door. Lucien's head is just a few inches away through this wall. He can probably hear us talking if he's awake, which he wasn't then.'

'When did you last check?'

'More than half an hour ago, but under the circumstances I might have a second look. They were all snoozing nicely then. Care to join me?'

Talking of silky little worms. It's late June and hot in the house. Even a summer duvet is too much. True to form, Charlie has a tight and constricted hard-on lying on his side with his hand between his thighs. That must be uncomfortable with the skin stretched like that. Oliver is on his back, knees raised and showing us his all, rosy and spotless. In the second room, Lucien is on his side partially covered with a flaccid and rather replete looking penis in repose on the mattress. Jacob's charming but skinny morsel lies buried beneath him on the opposite side from one of the most delectable bottoms on the planet. What lies hidden [almost] between those sculpted mounds may still be a mystery to us all. As Anders and I pause to admire, I feel his hand gently enclose my sex. I feel his hand grip me harder, and then harder still as my heart beats faster. I think both he and I have made up our minds. I touch him too, and despite the intervening years, it feels fresh and right. We turn towards each other and I kiss him, his arms tight around me, mine around him, our covered sexes side by side. We are unaware of a pair of watching eyes.

Morning.

I manage to get Andersson packed off to the Lodge before the boys need the bathroom and loos, an event I enjoy supervising. If I don't keep an eye on Charlie, he's bound to flick his flannel at someone, usually the long-suffering Oliver, or splash water from the basin. The loos were busy so new arrival and needy Oliver sees fit to pee in the sink again, with his not quite flaccid willy flopped over the edge, he on tip-toes. It didn't work too well. Seeing me in the doorway made matters worse. Never mind. I'm thinking of separating him and Charlie.

Last night was unfortunate. Our little preamble in Lucien's and Jacob's room was witnessed. With Anders and I almost naked on our final check around the two boys' rooms, and with Anders locked onto my mouth and his hand buried deep in my pants, we had last seen Jacob lying on his tummy. The next thing Anders sees is Jacob's eyes fixed on us, not six feet away. Anders beats a quick retreat to my room and I kneel over Jacob's bed. He's on his side partially covered.

'I can't sleep Rufus. It's too hot in here.' Jacob says in a whisper.

'You'll have to try sweetheart. Shall I stay with you for a while?'

'I still can't. Can I go in with Lulu?'

'Lulu?'

'Lucien. That's what I call him now.'

'Oh. Is that what you do then? Go in with him? Do you do that every night Jake?'

'Yes, if he's asleep. He doesn't mind.'

'So when he wakes up he finds you next to him?'

'Yes. He likes me with him.'

'Does he? How do you know that?'

I get watery smile as he swings his legs off the bed and onto the bare boards. I lift up Lucien's duvet and Jacob is in, neatly esconced against Lulu's back. Jacob has seen things concerning his guardian that he shouldn't have. Oh well, what is done, is done. I'll have to have a word with him at some point, and soon.

The night passes without further incident. It was wonderful having Anders close to me once again, bringing back all those memories. At six exactly I woke him, and ten minutes later he was dressed and on his way to the Lodge. Awake after Anders departure, I heard movement in Jacob's room. Five minutes before I'm due to wake him and Lucien, and prize them out of bed, I make a few noises outside their room, just in case. There's movement in there. When I go in, the boys are in their own beds, awake and under duvets. Lucien is the first out of bed while I stand there waiting, as I always do for my curiosity and pleasure. Lucien is twixt one thing and another, but Jacob looks like he's missed out and wanting, and in my book, eleven-year-old perfection. In another year, perhaps a little more, he'll be different. From now on, where I go, Jacob goes. He's something very special.

I keep watch, as ever, as the boys dress. I catch Charlie as he dons underwear. Albeit a small example at half the length of a six-inch ruler at the most, but nicely curved and upturned, he looks livid and painfully tight. I'm going to refer him to our Doc.

The next day I show him the small tube of cream, and with it, a sheet of instructions from the doctor, and a fact sheet describing his not uncommon problem and its treatment. He has somehow to work this white substance through the front of the prepuce and work it down around the glans. It's likely that his penis has grown recently exacerbating his difficulty. I personally think the bulbous nature of the glans is part of the problem. Needless to say he's incapable of such a procedure himself, and with pleading face, it appears that it's all down to me. I'm more than happy to help poor Charlie in his distress. Every time Charlie gets an erection these days, he's uncomfortable, so he tells. That's no good to him. Oliver watches the operation conducted on the bed with some interest. I don't suppose he wants his friend out of action for too long. In the doc's note it says…..treatment is more difficult if the penis becomes erect. Ok sir, we'll just have to do our best in the circumstances.

Oliver insisted that he had had a similar difficulty some years before.

'They snipped a bit off the end.' He tells us proudly, showing us exactly where. Thanks Olly. Charlie looks horrified.

Music.

At my primary school, the headteacher played classical music as we entered Morning Assembly. From that experience, simple as it was, sprung my love of music and my belief that it belongs to everyone, and should be known by everyone. What better time and place to begin than the bedroom, morning and evening. Music to me is synonymous with love and lovemaking. So much of a boy's loving is unreported, going on inside the body, in the mind. They are often quite unaware of how much they love, or who even, and not just associated with family, but also within the family of their friends. Music is for lovers.

I keep a cassette player in the small hallway outside the boys' bedrooms, and a collection of non-frenetic sounds that will send the boys into relaxed mode, hopefully, and gradually, very gradually infiltrate their heads with this form of culture. So it's a two-fold plan to enrich the little darlings experience here in some small way, and give me the pleasure of knowing that I'm making a contribution. So there's organ music, Chopin, a selection of choral works performed by various men and boys' choirs [no women or girls you ask?], and some easy listening orchestral works. You don't get much reaction to it as a rule, but occasionally a boy might enquire as to what a particular piece was. One morning the very sweet Jacob, almost five feet tall now, asked me who was singing a piece from Faure's Requiem in D, whilst clutching his penis obviously needing a pee, and massaging his foreskin to and fro over an emerging glans. I told him that it was a boy soloist from an Oxford College Choir. What's his name? I told him. He looked down, still playing with himself absent-mindedly, clearly thinking about the name of the boy; Otta. Having thought for a few moments he looked back at me…..

'I wish I could do that.'

'You can if you want to.'

I can see Jacob in the choir stalls, all robed up, looking angelic, attracting a few glances.

Punishment and retribution for sins committed.

We don't believe in any of those things here. I think innate evil is very rare in boys and girls, and most wrong doing is quite benign and best dealt with understanding and patience, and in my case, a dose of the poetry of John Donne. The lights in both of the boys' rooms, when they are needed during the darker months, go out at nine thirty latest, and that's when conversation stops, in theory. Charlie was the last one to ignore the rule. He's a persistent offender and I've had enough this time so I yank him out of his bed and sit him on the nursing chair next to my desk in my office. He isn't best pleased with me as he sits back with his feet on the front edge of the chair with his knees wide apart giving me sight of his bare bottom, which is his small gesture of defiance…..to present his bottom to me in that rude way. He looks at me and I look back at him. He thinks he's embarrassing me but he certainly isn't. I open the drawer of my desk and extract a second-hand copy of John Donne poetry bought from the newly established book sellers, Amazon, for a fiver. I hand it to him and tell him to read the first poem out loud. When he's done that [pardon the pun], I tell him he has to read more of it silently to himself. Meanwhile I get on with some paperwork. I know he's tired and a little cross with life in general. Ten minutes later I hear the book fall to the floor and Charlie has succumbed to sleep as expected. He's slightly built, barely four feet six in height, so I can carry him back to bed. Job done. He's had the steroid treatment now for two weeks and he looks far more comfortable now. I'll check him tomorrow morning.

My friend John's sanction experience at Exeter was a bit different, suffering corporal punishment which in those days was administered with a cane on his bare bottom on several occasions for the same misdemeanour in the dormitory, persistent talking after 'lights out', possibly for the sexual pleasure of the man empowered to do it. John spoke of senior boys trying it on too. Officially they had no authority to do it, but one or two did, according to John. He told me that one of them, after his beating, took hold of him and hugged him tearfully in an act of remorse for what he had perpetrated on an innocent eleven-year-old boy. John happened to like this youth, and as he stood before him, allowed him to take a further liberty with him. And so began a rather reckless affair that lasted a month or so before the boy tired of him and transferred his affection to another equalling qualified candidate. It was John's first experience of love and subsequent disappointment. It was John who later introduced me to sex with him and another boy, and convinced me of what I already thought, that I wanted boys for fun and friendship, not girls, and that it was just as possible to rub oneself inside a boy as it was a girl. Just a different place.

Such internal rubbing amongst the boys is unknown here at Byrom House. It certainly isn't amongst the Leaders. I have had an occasional involvement with one of the Music Leaders, Matthew, which is why I keep an appropriate product handy just in case I get the call, in fact two of them as their useful properties don't last forever. One I keep on the shelf in the boys' bathroom. Once or twice a boy has pointed at it with a question…..

'What's that for Rufus?'

'To stop you getting a sore bottom Oliver.' I say jokingly, and immediately regretting it.

He looks at me, obviously considering what I've told him. Then he looks away as some sort of truth dawns on him. Then he looks back at me, which is what I'm expecting.

'How do you…….do it?'

'The next time you have a sore bottom probably because you haven't washed properly, I'll tell you. And by the way, the basin is for washing in, not peeing in.'

I get a charming guilty smile from Oliver. Actually I don't really object. Saves time I suppose, and water. I do love these creatures and their bad habits.

I know it was a full tube when I put it there. Today, two days after Oliver's question in the bathroom, I picked it up for no particular reason and it felt noticeably lighter. There is quite definitely less in the container than there was. I just hope that Oliver hasn't shared the information with Charlie.

Food for the Soul.

Much of what Robin Goodlove believes in, our Owner and Principal, I agree with. I'm not particularly religious, but I do believe, like him, that our boys should not be denied the chance to rub shoulders with those that do have religious beliefs of all kinds. Being the owner of an ageing Land Rover Defender, I can transport half a dozen boys and girls to church services on a Sunday, which I am happy to do. My good friend Paul, our curriculum chief, usually joins me in this safari around Exeter and District, trying out the different faiths.

Awkward questions.

From time to time we get awkward questions asked. There is a forum for these, being one weekly class for all boys and girls, Responsibility and Health, which is run by Paul and encompasses a wide variety of issues, sexual health and awareness thereof being just one of them. This issue crops up elsewhere in the curriculum and in social settings too. I get questions from the boys in Herons, usually Charlie who thinks he can put me on the spot one more time. This is his latest query….

'How do girls and boys have sex Rufus?' He asks as if butter wouldn't melt. He knows how they do perfectly well but he just wants to ask. Ok.

'Thank you Charlie for that question. But haven't you had an answer in your Health and Responsibility classes Charlie?'

'Yes, but not a proper answer. Not exactly how they do it. How do boys do it together. They can can't they?'

I can't answer that without taking advice. There's a staff meeting tonight. I'll mention it.

Robin Goodlove did his best to answer my question in the meeting.

'We have a policy of openness with the girls and boys here. The parents have consented to our policy which includes issues like the one raised by Rufus. We just have to tell them what's what within a framework of truth, respect and love; and what is lawful.'

A couple of hours later, my friend Paul collars me after the Tea meal has ended. So, we go back to Charlie's question.

'Just tell him the truth Rufus, all matter of fact, and have someone else there too, like his room-mate. That's Oliver isn't it?'

I go into Charlie and Oliver's room after all the bedtime procedures are complete, sit them down on the edge of Charlie's bed, with me sitting opposite the boys on Oliver's bed. They're dressed as usual, ready for bed in just a tee shirt, their bare legs just touching, their feet flat on the pale grey painted floor boards, hands folded against tummies.

'Oliver, you're here because Charlie has a question about something he doesn't fully understand [he claims], and we thought it best to deal with this if you were here as well, so you're informed too.' And a witness.

'Sex is something that can happen when two people, a girl and a boy, or a boy and another boy, or indeed two girls find that their friendship has developed so far that they are attracted to each other in a physical way. This may lead to touching one another in ways that give them pleasure and excitement. They may kiss and touch each other's sexual parts, that is to say, those parts you will find between your legs and other parts of the body. You will know what those are Charlie. Don't pretend that you don't.'

Charlie smirks, whilst Oliver looks very engaged.

'Foreplay Charlie. What's that in this context?'

'It's when two people start playing with each other; kissing and touching.'

'Yes, telling in words how they feel about each other too; maybe?'

'Yes, that too, but not so much of that. More the other stuff I think.'

Well done Charlie. I can just see how it's going to go for you; or not.

'So why don't you tell us what you know Charlie? Then we can put you right if necessary.'

'The boy's willy gets stiff and he tries to get it inside the girl's slippery bits. She might let him or not. She might only want to kiss his willy. Then his sperm will come. She might not like that. That's what the boy will want. Isn't it Olly? That's the best bit. When your sperm comes. Boys like it when that happens. Don't they Olly.'

Oliver looks hunted, and pink. And I don't think Charlie has been listening very well in class. Anyway Charlie, proceed please…….

'If a boy only has another boy to play with, he has to do it a different way I think. The boy has to pretend he's a girl and let his friend do it to him somewhere else. But that's very tricky. It's very tricky to actually……'

'Actually……..what Charlie?'

'To get it inside the boy. Is that right? Boys can have sex together like a girl and a boy……can't they? Otherwise it wouldn't be fair would it? But two boys can't make a baby because his sperm goes in and then comes out again, whereas in a girl it just stays inside her. Anyway boys can't have babies. But they can put their sperm into each other, and not by kissing every time. Girls face you when they do it with a boy, but a boy doesn't do that with his friend. The boy has to be on his tummy with his friend on his back. That's the only way…….I think. Boys are born with willies that can fit into another boy's bottom. That's the idea of it. Boy's bottoms can do more than one thing. That's why we have shaped like that. If a boy doesn't want a girl, he can do it with a boy instead. Maybe he can be on his back with his friend on top of him. When they fit together, the boy rubs the inside of his friend until his sperm comes. Then that's it. They've had sex.'

'What about the other boy Charlie? He hasn't had sex has he?' chimes in Oliver.

'No, not really. Not until his sperm comes out. Then he has had sex. Hasn't he? They can swap around then. Then the other guy can have a go until his sperm comes out. Then they can kiss again, but not until then.'

Golly, this is complicated. It's crystal clear that Charlie's misconceptions need clarifying.

At the age of twelve I was aware that my schoolfriend John liked me. Any boy knows when another has 'taken' to him. I was chuffed that he had for one simple reason. I liked him. I liked how he looked for starters, and I was particularly attracted to his air of authority. That kind of prefect material whom you looked up to. He always gave me the impression that he was in charge, but in a benign way; a kindly way. I'd noticed him running around the four forty running track in his athletics kit, and had one of those funny tummy moments. I very quickly began to think about him after bedtime, those minutes when a boy's hands goes 'downstairs' for five minutes of pleasure, or in his case, as little as one minute, or even less. I had never seen him nude, not quite, but the next weekend when to my huge delight I got invited to his house for 'tea', I did for the first time. He was, as I had hoped he would, about to gently introduce me to our mutual pleasure. We found ourselves sitting on his bed after a walk in the local park.

'Would you like me to read you a story Rufus?' He asks.

'Ok.' I say. 'What's it about?'

'You might not like it. It's about sex. Would that upset you?'

No, it certainly would not John.

There was a famous [to us at least] story known as 'The Passionate Mother', which had been transcribed many times no doubt and passed around schools for girl's and boys' enjoyment and education alike. This story was slightly different, but along the same lines entitled 'The Passionate Brother'. One of two friends has an older brother who seduces the younger friend of his brother. It's simpler than it sounds. The test was to see if I responded to the rather childishly erotic tale in the way John wanted me to; and thought I would. At the end of the story, you have to stand up and be checked for the expected reaction. It's summer time so I'm not wearing anything more than my usual lightweight summer shorts and my favourite and sexiest cotton undies.

'Do I have to John?' I say, knowing full well that I will have to.

'Yes you do! Go on, stand up.'

Well, that told him what he wanted to know.

'Do you mind if I look Rufus?' He says with his fingers on the waistband of my shorts. I shake my head, open mouthed and speechless, and very excited. He slowly lowers my shorts down to my upper thighs. And then my pants. Out pops Percy, all four inches of him, perfectly erect, the slim helmet headed mast that it is, and more than ready for action. John sat there and looked.

He stood up, and then ushered me towards the edge of his bed and sat down on the bed, his hands either side of my bare hips while I stood in front of him. I looked at him to see how he had reacted to the story which I thought the most interesting thing I had ever heard without a shadow of a doubt. When he lowered the front of his shorts, I could see his now. In my bedtime reveries I had tried to imagine with some difficulty as I had no resources, what an older boy might look like compared to my meagre offering. We both looked at John's. We are similarly 'doctored', with barely a pubic hair on view on either of us. He's fourteen. Anyway, that didn't matter. With our shorts and pants around our knees, my education began. We were certainly reading off the same page here. He taught me to kiss a boy properly whilst some very pleasant fondling continued apace, him on me. He pulled my face down to meet his, let me go again to leave me standing in front of him, my hands on his lovely shoulders, perfectly placed for what was to come next. When his kisses were no longer confined to my mouth, I thought I was about to faint, the pleasure was so intense. It sounds cliched, but that's exactly how it was. A sexual climax wasn't a new thing to me. I'd discovered that way of spending time in one's own company nicely, some time before, although I can't remember exactly how I had. This was an entirely new thing, a glorious combination of mouth, lips, tongue in all the right places, and the fingers and thumb of one hand as we both watch for any result from the other. It's important, he said afterwards, to know what a boy can do. He seemed very pleased that I could do that too, albeit minimally, but just enough to tickle John's fancy. During our playtime I had noted his interest in another intimate part of me which worried me slightly. He noticed my reticence. We are lying on the bed together, him up on his elbow, other hand free to do what it will, me on my back wondering what will happen next.

'You don't like that do you?' He says sounding disappointed. I answered him honestly.

'I do but……it might be……'

'Ok, I understand Rufus. Don't worry. It'll be fine. Next time? I'll show you what to do.'

It only remained to put John out of his misery, which I did with my fist, according to him, 'bloody well'. At least I can do something right. You could multiply what I had achieved by ten. I went home with my head spinning with success. Does it really feel like that?

The next time was two days later. With the house to ourselves again, he marched me off to the bathroom to perform an act of cleansing that induced the most delicious sensation within my bodily core I had yet experienced, climax excepted, in my life thus far; giving me an upwardly mobile erection as hard as they get. Now, suitably endowed with the necessary, I was to be introduced to John's next trick, and the pleasures that involved. But my virginity remained intact for another month. There was never a moment when John did not treat me with the utmost respect, although neither he nor I would consider ourselves in love. This was different. My first love was, and is centred on the most beautiful, wonderful, Andersson.

What Charlie and Oliver got was essentially an erotic story as they sat opposite me on Charlie's bed listening to my educational presentation. In these situations, I am very careful to make the story factual and never personalized in any way. But the effect is really the same. With Charlie and Oliver's imagination racing ahead, I can observe with great pleasure the effect it has had on both of these handsome open-mouthed creatures. The hands that covered the lower part of their tummies have slipped lower. It only remains to order them into their beds, and hope they stay there.

A half hour later, curiosity got the better of me and I wandered around the corner to Charlie and Oliver's room. They were both in their beds, covered up, lying on their sides but still awake. When I looked into Lucien and Jacob's room, they were both still reading. Back in Charlie and Oliver's room….

'Everything alright in here?' I quietly enquire. Oliver replies…..

'Ok thanks Rufus. But I had to tell Charlie off earlier. Being a nuisance again. I think he's better now. It doesn't hurt him.'

I had to chuckle. The good news, if not for Oliver, the object of Charlie's lustful thoughts, is that his problem seems to have resolved at last. I thought it had at my last check when everything slipped very nicely to and fro, with the aid of that magic 'slippery stuff' as Charlie calls it.

The Cabin.

My parents had given me the exclusive use of the very small property they owned, in addition to their main residence, on Back Beach, Teignmouth, which they in their turn had inherited from my mother's parents. It was used by family and friends for years until they decided that I needed a place I could call my own. It's three doors from the public slipway with various small boats in front and the motor ferryboat moored a few yards offshore when not required to take folk across the short but treacherous tidal water to the pretty village of Shaldon on the other side of the Teign river. From Shaldon it's a shortish stroll with swimming kit through the tunnel dug through the cliff known as the Ness, and onto a long stretch of reddish purplish shingle, some sand at low tide, normally relatively uncluttered with beachgoers. At the far end it's accepted that clothing is optional, but you're looking at a good half hour walk to get there, well spent if you're in the mood to make a new casual acquaintance. My mother warned me not to go there having heard rumours, but in my early teens and curious, I ignored her and went a few times just to have a look. Once or twice I managed to inveigle myself into a family group and make friends with a boy who looked interesting. On both occasions I and the boy starved of romance it seemed, had a wander out of sight of mum and dad for a few minutes of fun, he allowing me to find out what he was about, him to find out what I was, and if our interests were mutual we would duly spill a little seed onto warm pebbles, our sweet sins to washed away on the next tide. Anyway, that's by the bye.

The Cabin on Back beach has two small upstairs bedrooms, another room above that on the second floor, but they are all not much more than cupboards really, but it meant mum and dad can sleep in one large double bed, whilst the kids and guests could cram in the other two, all meeting in the kitchen cum dining room cum sitting area facing north onto Back Beach. In one corner of the living area stands a large quadrant shaped shower tray with a curved shower curtain rail from which hung a rather nasty plastic curtain which could be drawn across for privacy. I removed that unwholesome curtain. Two French windows open out onto a shaded timber decked area where we can enjoy a coffee and admire the views across to Shaldon and up river. Plenty of local children inhabit Back Beach with its rather coarse mixture of sands, playing on the boats and unprepared for water activities with shirts off, shorts rolled up, waistbands rolled down, hitched up as high as they would allow for paddling; or better still, just in their underwear. Thus in warm weather it was an enjoyable place to while away a summers day with a good book, with a possible ferry ride to Shaldon with all its delights always an optional extra. Having Lucien and Andersson with me at the start of the summer hols was in my book, perfect. My intention is to relive our Seven Days of boyhood naughtiness, and more. What we thought of but could not achieve then is now not only a possibility but something of a certainty.

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