I Never Said I Loved You

by Rafael Henry

Part 4

Back Beach.

There's one thing missing here at the Cabin on Back Beach, Teignmouth. A playmate for Lucien. Andersson and I occupy the big bed in the very slightly larger bedroom, and Lucien is in another small double, also on the first floor. Needless to say Lucien feels a bit left out, so he inveigles himself into our room, more than once now at an awkward moment. I've told him that Anders and I like some quiet time in the bedroom after a light lunch. It's a time for us to reflect on our Seven Days together back in the year 1986. It's now 2000 and quite a lot of water has flowed under the bridge. With Lucien down with us and bereft of his room-mate Jacob, he's rather at a loose end.

We are all sitting with coffees just inside the open French windows that look out onto Back Beach. I can see the sun on the boys' backs as they potter about the boats no doubt thinking up another game they can play, imagining themselves to be sea captains and crew aboard their ships in a gale. You can tell the assertive ones, the leaders, and those that are more comfortable as followers. I know that Lucien, sensitive boy, would follow.

'Lucien, there are several boys out there every day mucking about. They won't mind you joining in with their games. Why don't you give it a try? See that one near the boat with his friend. He looks nice.'

Doesn't he just. If I was Lucien, I'd be out there like a shot. He's looks about Lucien's age, thirteen, maybe. He's an average kind of a boy, at first sight; about five feet at a guess, similar to Lucien. One item of clothing on him. Well-worn, but perfect for the job; mucking about around this sort of environment where a little bit of dirt here and there, and very likely to get on you in the course of your adventures. Come on Lucien, get out there and make a friend. It's gratifying to see these kids not requiring much amusement, but this fellow has lost something; or someone.

His dark hair, creeping around his ears, looks like he last saw the barber's shop some time back in the spring four months ago. With no top on, his torso looks spare and lean. Big hands and feet. Yesterday he had his friend with him, but not today. Yesterday, Lucien made a half-hearted attempt to make contact, but in the absence of immediate acceptance, he gave up and wandered back to us. I've told him that he'll have to be a bit more assertive if he's to get anywhere with these Devon kids. You have to work at it if you going to infiltrate the gang.

We've been here three days now and this is the first time our friend has not had his mate with him, a smallish fair-haired 'not very noticeable' lad as I recall, as they clamber over the boats, skim pebbles that are too rounded to skim properly, and amuse themselves with the variety of ropes, lengths of weedy and wet chain, blocks and tackle, lightweight anchors half buried, and other impedimenta the local boat owners would like you not to interfere with. The boys of Back Beach come out to play intent on getting filthy it seems to me. Good. That's how boys want it. Most disappear around lunchtime and re-appear a couple of hours later, but today this boy is on his own and still in view. I'm wondering why. He looks like an outsider to me, someone with whom I have a natural affinity with. He sits on the side of a small boat, head down, examining a pebble. That's just to make himself look occupied, but his mind is elsewhere. I've seen it enough times with boys. Something has gone wrong. I'm aware that there's a prickling in my eyes as I watch him. How perfectly ridiculous I am. I can't help myself being drawn to boys who look a little down. But my inkling of an idea is gathering conviction.

'Lucien, that boy is on his own right now. Go out and talk to him.'

'I have done. His name is Simon.'

'Oh. So you've met already? Nice name. It suits him. Is he nice?'

Lucien nods in that way which suggests Simon has already made an impression on him.

'Well then?'

'Well, what?'

'He's on his own right now. Why not? If you've already spoken to him, what's the problem?'

Simon is sitting on the edge of the yellow rowing boat about ten yards from our decking. My guess is that he wants to be noticed.

'Is it Jacob then? You know he can't come down here. We did ask him Lu.'

We did ask his people if he could be spared to come down to Teignmouth with us, but his family took him off to Spain for the holidays. Next term he'll be back in harness at Byrom House, and if I've got anything to do with it, at Herons with us again. But holidays are different; an opportunity to make friends with others which will give Lucien a fresh perspective on his established relationships. Besides, I fancy that he'll enjoy a change of scene. He needs to get off his bottom, right now.

'Well are you going to or not?' I repeat, beginning to feel irritated at his reluctance.

Lucien looks at me hard. With half an eye on him, I look outside to see the boy glance in our direction. I'm sure I'm right about this situation. He wants a new friend. A replacement. I'm wondering what happened to the other little boy.

I bought Lucien some new kit for the holiday. It occurs to me that I like being in charge of a boy's wardrobe. I'm a nurturer at heart, so my old friend John told me. I've got Lucien some inexpensive stuff, easily hand-washed and air dried on our makeshift washing line rigged up outside on two poles rammed into the sand. We can drape towels over the rail that surrounds our small area of decking if we need to. No room for a washing machine and drier in this place. It's more like camping.

Lucien looks good in his new kit, but Lucien looks good in anything. It's all he needs here, that and a pair of plastic sandals and a few tee shirts. For going out anywhere, he has some alternative essentials. For knocking around this place, he can still get away with just play shorts and nothing else. Anything to avoid putting on the washing machine. People might look, but he's still a young boy and although there's the evidence for all to see, dibbling about in there, the sight of him isn't going to offend. Not quite yet. People like me will look and notice, but I won't be saying anything; just thinking it. He's at that alluring stage, betwixt and between. No, he has a little time left before we will have to reconsider the situation. Simon? Hmm.

Around our inconveniently small cottage, we wear as little as possible by day and by night, keeping any laundry to an absolute minimum. Bed linen will go to the commercial launderette a few streets away.

The same economy of dress applies to Simon too, if this morning is anything to go by. Lucien's potential new mate. He bends down to pick up another pebble to examine. Another mother, father or carer who doesn't want extra washing of an evening. The boy picks up another pebble and aims it over one of the small boats. It hits the water some twenty yards beyond. Not bad. Nice action as his body twists, arm extended, other arm drawn back, and then pebble launched skywards. No, he's nearer fourteen. I glance at Lucien. He's thinking about it. Well, I can't make him.

I think Simon is getting bolder, and probably frustrated that he's getting no response from us as we continue to observe him through our open windows. It's very obvious to me that he wants to make contact. Well, if Lucien won't do it, I will. I shall walk out there and engage with him forthwith. The boy needs to be given some hope and expectation, now.

'Hello.' I say, walking up to the boy with coffee mug in my hand, all calm and relaxed, not showing any of the anxiety I'm feeling, and feigning disinterest. Nonchalant you might say.

The boy looks up with half a smile. He's about six feet away from me. Brown eyes. Good teeth too. Perhaps just a hint of the Celtic in his colouring? Welsh blood perhaps. Musical? Hang on a minute Rufus. You're getting ahead of yourself now. He stands up. Don't look Rufus. Don't look down.

I did look down. The boy looks down too, at me. Then up into my face. Four feet between us now. I cannot look down again. Once was one time too many. Without words, our expressions tell us what the other is thinking. How fascinating are these first encounters with people.

'On your own this morning? No friend to play with?' I ask cheekily.

The boy nods and then looks down, still fiddling with the pebble. He's a sweet boy. I can tell. Lovely eyes. Believe me, I can tell. I've seen plenty like him.

'He's gone home now.'

'Oh. That's a shame. There's someone in there [I gesture towards our open doors] that needs someone to play with. I think you've already met Lucien haven't you?'

The boy looks towards the cottage, trying to see into the interior darkness from the bright sunlight that glows off his shoulders, and the tiny hairs on his arms. He looks up into my face, as if seeking answers. I have the answer.

Sweet face, freckled and browned by late late July sun. Come on Lucien. For heaven's sake!


Andersson and I kept a close watch on the show going on outside our doors. When Lucien eventually went out to meet Simon, the boy greeted him in that lovely shy but welcoming attitude that some boys can put on when they know they've got what they think they want. They soon found things to do on the beach, straying fifty yards or so away from base. Then they both appeared at our door.

'Can we go round to the main beach please. The tides out now. It's perfectly safe to walk round the Point.'

Fine, but we'll follow at a discrete distance. The question is in my mind, what sort of friend will Simon be? It's very hard to tell. A nice one; please, for Lucien's sake. But time will tell. We watch them round the headland, the big carpark above them, towards the main town beach. I think they are into their bonding process already. Simon has his arm around Lulu's shoulder, his around Simon's waist. Quick work. Two boys like they are will attract some attention no doubt, and so they should. Just like the old days eh?

My friend John and I were adept at attracting attention to ourselves on Teignmouth beach, and on the Promenade, frequented by families, holiday makers, various other sorts, and maybe the interested voyeur or two. It's a simple trick, nothing up top so your tanned and hairless chest is on view, and nothing under your summer shorts made from gossamer thin material. Parade up and down for a while, stand leaning against the railings overlooking the beach, then turn around to face the people wandering by. Nine times out of ten, someone will pause to admire the view.

Down on the beach our behaviour could be worse. It doesn't take much to get us excited lying next to each other on the warm sand of Teignmouth beach, chatting and telling interesting stories. Time to abandon the towels and have a stroll up and down the beach. Very naughty boys! I'm sure we would have attracted offers, but it was just a fun game to play, finished off nicely by a very pleasant session together, right there on the beach. I think that people could work out what we were doing partially hidden under a beach towel, but they couldn't actually see, so we never had any bother. The results of our playfulness made curious and artistic patterns on the sand. John made the decisions as to where we would park ourselves on our beach trips together, very often strategically near a family group, provided it included a boy or two. I remember one occasion in particular. There was a mum and one boy, aged around……sorry I can't remember. It was a hot day, a bathe in the sea very necessary. Twenty minutes later we were in our customary position, lying close together on our tummies a few yards to one side of the group of two. The boy had just returned from his bathe and had been deprived of his swimming briefs and partially wrapped in a towel, the front of the boy still visible. Five yards away from us, we had a great view of a deliciously plump penis, his crown prominent under its protective skinny bit, something neither I not John had. The boy has noticed us looking in his direction, but it clearly doesn't bother him being acutely observed, and commented on.

'Do you wish you had that?' John says.

'Had what?'

'That extra bit on the end. Are you sorry you don't have one?'

'You don't miss what you've never had John. Do you?'

Like me, he doesn't either.

The boy lies down under a towel, mostly covered unfortunately. But it wasn't the last time I would be treated to the entire apparition. The boy lies facing us as we begin to indulge ourselves. He'd be too young to recognize our activity. Ten minutes on and John is getting pretty heated and so am I. Then it happens. The boy quite deliberately [I thought at the time] moves the towel away from that part of his body. Mum doesn't notice and keeps reading her woman's magazine. John is facing me, his hand busy with himself, but I have the perfect view of the boy. Very very gradually the boy's penis begins to swell. My activity, now inspired, quickens as I watch him slowly achieve his erection, and what a beauty it is. As the boy touches himself, albeit briefly, I have his message, and it's abundantly clear that he knows exactly what we are up to. That was as good a visual aid as they could be, and more than enough for me. Five minutes later, when John was back with us, I told him what I had just seen. He was furious to have missed it. And that's not the end of the story. The following school term I saw the boy in his brand new school uniform on the playground during the very first lunch break. I managed to work my way close to him as he stood against the stone playground wall. He looked sideways at me and smiled. I'm convinced he recognized me. Boys don't smile like that for much older boys for no reason. Obviously we could never be friends, and besides, he had his own to play with. Two weeks after that event, John takes my virginity, as he called it.

It was all planned, the necessary materials, the time and the place; John's house, and parents guaranteed to be elsewhere for hours. After showering, we had decided on a half-hour of foreplay, but in the event it was less. We were both very keen to get on with things. I rolled the Durex condom onto John's penis, right up to his small bush of hair. I lay down on John's bed as he held back my legs and anointed my bottom, inside and out, according to the advice we had read up on weeks before.

I'm sure that first time experiences vary hugely; painful, easy as you like, ecstatic, tearful and so on, but as for mine I can say it was a hill I wanted to climb, and I did. The view from the top was of a bright dawning, as my sun rose above the distant horizon. John was ecstatic. This was for him more than it was for me, so I was thrilled that it had worked well for him, and thrillingly noisy. Hopefully the neighbours didn't hear us. We had at the last moment rejected the Durex as off-putting. Neither of us had had sex with anyone else so it seemed safe enough. I had the 'no entry' sign up for a short while until something inside me took it down and John could drive his car all the way up my internal highway; until he could go no further. Gradually my body accommodated this major intrusion, and got to enjoy this totally new sensation, and if I'm honest a scary one. From the pale little worm that it is, willy slowly begins to respond, and by the time John had arrived at the top of his hill, I could have gone on for hours. But as the recipient of John's considerable largesse, [I already knew his capacity] I had the problem.

'Where does it all go John?' I ask, lying there, still hard and expectant.

'Inside you. Where do you think it goes?'

'Does it stay there? For how long?'

Good question. Answer; not that long. Ok, not too much information, please. Suffice it to say I had the same experience walking home that a certain celebrated pundit, actor and author had, described to my great excitement in his book, Moab, namely a cold dripping sensation down the legs. Once home, I managed to dispose of a new pair of underpants, my favourite sadly, [and John's] and the evidence of my misdeeds under the all the refuse at the very bottom of the kitchen bin before my sins could ever be discovered. I went to bed that night with the events of the afternoon whizzing around my head until, eventually, sleep mercifully overtook my overheated mind and body. A couple of days later John asked me if I'd like to do to him, what he did to me. I told him I was very happy to look up into his lovely face as his body bore into mine.

Lucien and Simon have been paddling, and then gone in a little deeper, and got so wet that if they swam it would make no difference. They presented themselves back at The Cabin, dripping wet.

'Come in boys. You can't walk about in here like that. Boys, would you like some dry things? Do you live near here Simon? Is home close to here?'

Simon shakes his head. In fact he lives eight houses away next to the pub called the Ship Inn. Do you want to go home and change? No. Would you like to borrow a spare pair of Lucien's shorts? He has several pairs? He looks at a nodding Lucien, so it's a yes please. I go and find spares for Lucien and Simon. The boys can change in here. We're all blokes here. They can get on with it. I hand Simon a small towel which he does nothing with. Then, as cool as you like, he changes into the dry shorts. No back turning, no attempt to hide his modesty either. And so there it is. Well done Simon. I see Simon glance at Lucien's naked body. And then again. Progress indeed for Little and considerably Larger.


Living in such a small place means few secrets are hid. Anyway there's usually little point in keeping a secret from someone you love. Love comes, to my mind at least, in different forms. There's the love I have for Lucien. That's one thing. Then there's another kind of loving I reserve for Andersson. The ways, or one way in particular, that I express my love for him cannot be hidden from Lucien. Not in this place. Then came the comment that stopped me in my tracks.

'I can hear you two.' He says over breakfast one morning at the Cabin. But it's not a complaint. There's a wry smile in there.

We've been here just a few days now. It's an issue I hadn't really thought about, but he's right. At Byrom House, Andersson and I had not progressed from reliving our Seven Days together. Living in close proximity to four young boys, you can't make suggestive noises all night. If you want to do something, do it very quietly or preferably when you're the only ones in the house, assuming it's two of you. Here at the Cabin we can do what we like, but it's a very small place, wooden construction and sound travels easily through the walls. Even mild sexual activity rocks the boat, metaphorically speaking, and to some extent, literally. In old houses, a lot of things are a bit squeaky and it's not just the beds. I'm very aware of the likelyhood of embarrassing Lucien when things get a bit hot between Anders and I. But I'm in no mood to compromise. Anyway I know when Lucien is having a play. I can hear him every morning gently moving his bow across the strings, and a little later, not so gently.

'I'm sorry Lu. You're right. We shouldn't. We won't. Not when you…...'

'I didn't mean that! You should.'

'But we don't want to upset you Lucien?'

'No it doesn't upset me. It won't.' He says, looking down.

'Well what then?'

'It makes me feel….a bit weird, that's all. I want you to enjoy being here. You're both so kind to me. I want you to be together. Really I do. I love it when you're together, properly, like at night and everything. I'm proud of you. I want you to be happy. Are you?'

Goodness me. When? Yes, there have been a few 'whens' already. I have a very clear memory of that first time I gave Anders the pleasure during our Seven Days fourteen years ago, watching his face, watching his twitching feet, his rolling eyes, a couple of tears too, until the drops of dew fall onto my tongue. Such sweet pleasure for him, and me. The quiet bedroom in the warm afternoon, curtains closed, warm skins touching, words whispered, bodies temporarily satisfied, minds ablaze, mists of puppy love swirling around the room.

'Are we real friends now?'

'Yes of course.'


'Yes, forever.'

Noises off.

Do we need to talk about all this Lucien? We can make time this morning? Is Simon coming round today? We need to do some grocery shopping this morning. Simon can come with us if he wants to.

Lucien and Simon have known each other for three days. On holiday, friendships can be very short before the inevitable parting of the ways. You don't waste precious time. Simon's parent both have jobs he tells us, not big jobs, but jobs that require early starts. Yesterday morning Simon was sitting on the same boat outside our back door by seven thirty waiting for his new friend to appear. Same shorts, baggy tee mostly covering them, feet in worn white trainers today, same old pebbles to play with. Lucien is still in bed, probably asleep. I'm standing here wearing nix, holding two mugs of tea, looking forward to rousing Anders into early morning quiet activity. I've had a half hour to think about touching Anders and it's showing. The boy outside glances in my direction and I quickly move sideways out of his line of sight. I put the mugs down on the window ledge, grab the towel and fasten it around me. It's just about long enough, but it doesn't hide my thoughts. Oh well. I open the unlocked doors outwards…….

'Morning.' I say brightly. 'You can come in if you want. Lucien is still upstairs. I'm sure he'd like to see you.'

The boy didn't need a second invitation. He smiles, stands, and moves towards the house. Just as he reaches the threshold, he stops close to me. I have a few moments to examine his face. Those dark brown eyes that go naturally with his olive complexion, the hair that falls each side of his head; and the mouth. The boy swallows as he looks back at me, upwards to a degree. There's just a hint of a question in those eyes and in that mouth.

'It's fine Simon, come in if you want to. Do you?'

He nods without any expression, mouth open now. I can see how attractive he must be to Lucien.

The boy walks in. Different very fitted yellow shorts this morning. Nicely ironed tee shirt. Brown legs.

'Up the stairs and turn right. His door is right in front of you. Go straight in. He's probably still asleep. There's not a lot of room in there so you'll have to sit on his bed. He'll be pleased to see you.' I say, smiling encouragingly. He will be pleased to see him.

A broad and liberal education at Byrom House starts from the very beginning of the boys and girls time there. It has to for reasons I've referred to earlier. The health of our boys and girls is paramount. Lucien arrived late at the school, but he's spent enough time with Andersson to know all the sexual health stuff and the last thing he is, is naïve. We're going shopping later at the Tesco supermarket, not so super, which is a five minute drive in the Land Rover. I'll write a list of items for him to find and then we'll join forces at the checkout. The items I want him to collect in his basket he will find on the shelves stocked with all those medicinal products; from aspirin to condoms. Simon can help him. I'm sure he'll know what they're for, but in the event that he's not entire conversant, I'll will explain.

It's a small Tesco by Tesco's standards, with an inconvenient carpark. The Land Rover has six seats, ideal for ferrying boys around at Byroms. Back at the Cabin, our purchases are unloaded from the carriers onto the table in the kitchen cum everything. Simon looks on. I pick out from the various packs of food and the small items bound for the bathroom, and hand them to Lucien.

'Those can all go in the cabinet in the cloakroom upstairs please.'

'What's this one?'

Did I say, not naïve? I suppose it was a kind of trap I'd set; to see if he knew. He obviously doesn't. I'll talk to Anders about it.

It was nine o'clock before Lucien and Simon appeared downstairs. That means they were up there together for a good hour and a quarter doing whatever they were doing. I had a listen at one stage but heard nothing. Literally nothing. No conversation. Nothing for a good five minutes. When they appeared, they seemed completely relaxed and all looked normal. Then Simon said he needed to go home. I need a word with Lucien.

'What's happened Lu? That was a bit sudden wasn't it, Simon leaving like that? Has something upset him?'

'No. He just left after he……well he just got up and went. He said he was sorry. He thinks I'm a baby.'

'Why on earth would he think that?'

'Because I'm not very advanced.'

After a few more questions, I think I get the problem. Lucien invited him into bed with him by pulling the duvet off. Simon could see his body. Lucien, for his age, looks very young. Simon was scared that he would be seen as some sort of abuser. I know that he's way ahead of Lucien in the maturity stakes, physically speaking. I've seen him. But certainly not in any other way, so Simon has got this very wrong. Some boys are petrified of befriending younger boys because others tend to think there such a friendship is sexually motivated. It turns out that Simon is fourteen. Not much older than Lucien. That's fine in my book. Anyway, Simon has gone. We need him back now.

'This is what you do right now Lu. Go and find him. Bring him back here and I'll talk to him'.

Simon was there again this morning, pebble gazing outside our door. Yesterday when Lucien persuaded him to come back, I had a few words and assured him that there was every reason in the world why they could and should be friends. A few minutes later I witnessed something that moved me. I saw Simon's hand touch Lucien's; just momentarily, lightly, but touch they did. For goodness sake boys, get on with it, please !

The new items are in the medicine cabinet in the cloakroom upstairs. No need to explain the purpose of item number one, a packet of three little rubber boots. A boy [or girl] of eight knows what they are for, at least they will at Byrom House. Their first sight of a Durex will be the thing rolled onto a carrot, a large carrot just for fun and make the boys feel inadequate. The other item, the clear gel like substance in a tube with the hexagonal blue cap is trickier to explain and I've no doubt that Lucien had no idea of what you might do with it.

'How exactly Rufus? What does it feel like?'

Later dear boy, later. We need to explain. After our light lunch together perhaps? Then, in the quiet of the bedroom.

Andersson said we should give Lu a practical demonstration.

'After all, he ought to be shown exactly how shouldn't he? He can come up with us after lunch for our nap time can't he? There's nothing sexual about it is there? We'd just be showing him.'

Really? I'm not at all sure that's true?

With Anders lying beside me in playful mood, he wants the story told according to my vivid imagination whilst taking him to those dizzy heights yet again…..

We can see Lucien naked and excited at the prospect of his tutorial. With a bead of the gel on my fingertip, and with Lu lying on his back, knees raised sufficiently, wide enough apart, I can now excite Lucien's anal margin, something that Andersson can particularly relate to it seems. That brings a smile to my face, and to Lucien's. From here, assisted by another helping from the tube, I continue to rotate my fingertip around the boy's margins just gently pushing against the tightly closed door. Gradually I feel the closed ring ease a little, and then ease a little more until I'm able to delve just inside, my fingertip compressed inside the firm ring. Insertion is almost complete now, painlessly achieved as the boy's sphincter relaxes and allows me to glide ever further into the dark void. I kiss the boy's hardened nipples, my tongue describing tiny circles around the raised domes for his and my own pleasure. Further I go, to feel for what I know is there. My mouth is full now with the boy, the small shining dome exposed now for my delight, hard, pink and excited, on the brink, soon to be fulfilled.

How Anders loves my stories! He's so easily led into my imaginary and very naughty world of love. He never fails me, usually before I've finished my tale. But the best is yet to come, and he knows it.

A fantasy comes to a conclusion before Lucien joins us for some quiet time.

Lying between us, naked as nature intended, we can see what we know already, that Lucien is quite correct. He's a tad immature for his age, hence Simon's reticence maybe, thinking he shouldn't touch a boy so under developed, but nonetheless adorable. Two lubricated surfaces can slide together in the most satisfactory way, a very pleasurable for Lucien. How incredibly well it works. See what happens? How good that feels? That's not the only place Lucien. Would you like to try?

'How far can I go Rufus?'

'As far as you want Lulu. As far as you want to. There's just one more thing to show you.'

Practical advice, and some notes of caution, and some very serious words about staying safe in a world where people who may pretend to be your friend but may not tell you the truth about themselves, and where people are dying from ignorance. I show Lucien the pink coloured prophylactic device.

'Will you show me?'

'Anders? Would you care to be the guinea pig?'

Anders agrees. It will be good practice for the boy. Anders, his hands held behind his head, smiles and approves. Nice job.

Now stop Lucien; now .

'Can I try?'

'I'm not sure if it will work for you Lucien.'

It's a loose fit but it does work. I'm pleasantly surprised. One size fits all I guess, even Lucien it seems. He works the sheath up the slim shaft a little tighter. The boy's head lies buried in the pillow, puffs of air pushed hard into it. He turns towards us.

'Can I?' He asks in that delicious velvety treble voice.

It's the lightest touch of my lips on the boy's forehead, warm and moist. Anders and I watch the boy's face as we lie beside him in all his glowing beauty. The changes of expression, the expectation, and then the sudden sharp intakes of air. All is quiet as we watch. The boy's head moves and we see him smile.

'Ok Lulu?' I quietly enquire. He nods.

I squeeze his hand, and feel him reciprocate with a squeeze of his own on mine. Now he knows more.

An apology is required.

We watched Simon and Lucien play all that day on Back beach, with me racked with guilt. I had never, before or since, played such games with someone so much younger than I. Tonight after our supper together we plan to bring Lu up to our room and make our apologies. They will be sincerely meant. Lucien is not an official member of Byrom House School, so I suppose that makes a small difference to how Robin Goodlove might look upon our evil deed, if he knew about it, which in all probability he won't. I've watched a boy invade his own most intimate parts, something he not have had witnesses to, which is shameful, and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it because of the pleasure it gave a boy I love, and for the intense sexual pleasure it gave me. I have to admit to myself that this is what I want and can never have. I'm truly shocked at my lack of judgement and what I appear to be capable of. But this is not the final sin. As I make love to Andersson tonight, I fear my thoughts will not be entirely confined to him, but another, sleeping in the next room. Those shameful thoughts dwell within every day. So our new friend Simon shall be my proxy?

Ten days into August.

We are ten days into our stay at the Cabin, Back Beach, Teignmouth. Andersson and I are happy here with our life, and Lucien has the admirable Simon for his playmate. Since the doubts of a week ago, the two of them spend almost all day and every day together, which incidentally begins quite early when Simon appears at our back door, usually around seven thirty. It's me that lets him in, with a towel wrapped around me. Simon knows the drill by now. It's straight upstairs to Lucien's room. He'll find him in bed, probably still asleep. He can climb in beside him and start the waking up process. I had no idea what that process was, although if it was me doing it, I would know exactly how I would go about it. The same method I use to wake Anders up. And then tea. The taste of honey followed by the taste of India you might say.

Another slight concern for me. I'm getting fond of Simon. No surprise there I suppose. I'm a sucker for them. He's a nice boy, which I know sounds stupid. Nice. I do try to avoid that word, but it seems so appropriate in Simon's case. Other words for him? Attractive, but that's not a word to use in the wrong company. It suggests one 'fancies' him. Another poor choice of word. At my age, twenty eight, you don't use that word in the context of a thirteen-year-old nice looking boy do you? One thing I do know is the fact that Lucien does fancy Simon. Nine o'clock is their time to come down to some form of breakfast, usually cut up fruit, and a bowl of cereal and cold milk. Anders and I wait for them. We are dressed in not much, certainly no underpants as we rather like that 'look' as we wander about the Cabin and our immediate surroundings. I'm sure our neighbours have noticed by now. The weather has been brilliant so far, but things in this country can change dramatically, especially in the south west of England.

I told Lucien we like to see as much of him as possible in the morning, so he appears, if it's warm enough, devoid of any clothing, sometimes still feeling the tingling; almost upright and glowing. One has to marvel at the young human body and all its wonders.

'Stand there a moment Lulu. Do you realise how beautiful you are?'

He smiles, looks down, and then up at Anders and I again. Lovely. Simon, less confident, or just not wanting to show off, appears in his worn and tight-fitting satin type sporty shorts. He doesn't realise that he's sending more erotic messages clothed than he would nude. Well, perhaps not. He's a ten on that scale as his boyhood struggles to escape the confines of that horrible man-made material. I think I'm going to ban those shorts from this house. There's just one little problem with Simon. When are you going to completely relax and enjoy?

This morning I made a joke of it, but I think he got the drift.

'I thought that…….' His lovely velvety lower range treble voice tails off. I take a guess at what he's thinking. We would approve.

'No really Simon. We want you to relax and feel at home here. Lucien wants that too. It would make us all very happy if you would. Be like us. Why worry?'

'Are you sure? Shall I now?'

Yes of course you can. Now. And about those vile shorts of yours.

'You could tell your mother you lost them in the sea or something like that? We have plenty of spares while you're here with us. At the end of the holidays, we could find them again. Right now you don't need anything. Try to be a brave boy. By the way Simon, we love having you with us. Thank you.'

Well done Simon. What a brave boy. Now that is worth a second look, and a third. Both Andersson and I try not to stare at our new star, but it's a hard ask. He's sitting on one of the wooden kitchen chairs with his legs together, modestly, but then they gradually move apart. Lucien moves from his chair so he's standing behind his friend, appreciating Simon's bravery. His hands are on Simon's shoulders. Then he rests his head on top of Simon's out of affection for his friend. Hands move around the boy's tummy now, and then across his chest. Anders and I try very hard not to observe these goings on, towels wrapped around our middles, but I for one can't resist peeks. I know exactly what Lucien is up to here, the cunning little rascal. I only hope Simon won't panic when he realises what's happening and run away.

There's nothing Simon can do about it. Girls can hide it naturally, but boys can't. If he was ten years older, I would definitely persuade him to join me upstairs.

'Why don't take Simon upstairs and show him one of your new books Lucien. You've finished the Philosopher's Stone haven't you?'

Simon, prompted by Lucien, has to get up from the chair to respond to my request, which was meant to sound like an order. That's better. Now we can all see who and what we are, and relax.

Seeing the two boys together, and very unfairly making comparisons, it's almost comical. One, perky, pointy, and tending to the horizontal. The other, hung to perfection and standing almost at the vertical above two large hanging egg shaped forms no doubt in full teenaged production. If I saw that at Herons, I'd be checking his bottom sheet on a daily basis. Boys seem incapable of thinking more than a few seconds into the future and are invariably careless. But I am perfectly reconciled to their imperfections.

That evening, Simon on his way home and curious as ever, I ask Lu how things are going with Simon. I've found graphic descriptions of a person's sex life almost as good as the real thing, just as Anders relishes my imagined erotic tales. My little fantasy concerning Lulu the other night induced a lightning fast response from Anders, just to prove my point I think. So I catch Lu after lunch as his mate Simon has gone home, no doubt temporarily. Lu can join Anders and I for our book reading session lying on our bed.

Lu is lying on his side, hands up under his chin, knees bent a tad, and expecting a grilling from Anders and I. He's slipped off the shorts because he knows that no one lies on this bed with clothes on. I put my arms around his shoulders and draw him close enough to me so I can smell the skin of his neck, while Anders who is lying against his back, strokes his back.

'So sweetheart, just to let you know that we are thrilled that you've met Simon. He's really is a lovely boy. How's life then?' I ask. Lucien knows that look of mine. It means I need to be told everything .

'Good, thanks. He's nice.' That word again.

'Ok. Does he wake you up in the mornings? Or does he just sit there on the edge of the bed waiting patiently?'

'Yes, usually, and no, he gets in with me.'

'What, with his clothes on?'

'No. He takes them off.'

'And then you wake up do you?'

'He wakes me up.'

'And how does he do that?'


'Does he do that in a nice way?' I persist.


'What, with his hands on your shoulders? Give you a shake?'

'Kind of. He asked me what he should do.'

'And what's that Lu?'

'Do I have to say?'

'No, not if you don't want to. I just want to know that you're happy to have him with you, that's all. Is he happy to be with you, do you think?'

'Yes, I know he is. He's told me. He cried; just a little; once.'

'That's very sweet. I hope you were kind to him?'

'Of course I was. I………'

'What did you do?'

'I kissed him; just on his forehead. He made me cry too. Then……'

'Then, what Lucien?'

'We cuddled together for ages. He said it felt good when we touched each other. He said he was scared to do anything. You know, sexy stuff. He was scared that I wouldn't want him to do anything like that and I'd be angry with him. I said he could do anything he wanted. We kissed again for ages. We made our mouths sore.' He says, giggling.

Ah, that explains it.

'And what else happened when you were kissing him. Anything?'

'Yes. He got like you and Anders do sometimes. I've seen you. You didn't know I'd seen you. When you were in the shower with Andersson. He was like you Rufus. Just like you.'

Ah, circumcised and huge . Sorry, only joking. In actual fact I'm pretty ordinary.

'Was that scary then?'

'No. A little scary the first time, but after that he let me do it and it was fine then.'

'Did that work out ok? You've not seen that before; not with Jacob?'

'No, not with Jacob. He wanted to but he couldn't. He'd get cross because I could; a bit.'

'Has Simon seen you?'


'And those things I showed you and told you about. Have you shown Simon?'


I stopped my interrogation at that point. Lucien has told me all I need to know; so far as it goes. Well done Simon!

There was a tap on the French windows and Simon is back. Excellent. That's this afternoon taken care of for Lucien. They'll be gone for a few more hours. As I turn towards Andersson, I know what he wants for the next half hour at least. I want the same thing. I feel inspired.

Six days into our stay here in Teignmouth, I feel the need to change our bottom bed sheets and put all the other whites through the machine, rather than flogging over to the Launderette. It's breezy this afternoon and everything will dry quickly. Simon's been over early as usual to rouse his friend. Either one of them, or both, left the bed not more than ten minutes ago, appearing downstairs expecting some fruit juice and bread and marmalade as usual.

I drop our laundry on the floor by Lucien's bed. His duvet has been pulled back to air the bottom sheet properly. Having been told on many occasions to do this every morning, Lu has got the idea now.

Pillow cases first. Just as I pull the bottom sheet loose from the protective mattress cover I recognize the evidence. I'm looking at the sheet, stretched out over the mattress cover. It's a little higher than halfway down the bed. It's not where you would expect to find it, in the centre. This is spreading out towards the edge of the bed at a forty five degree angle. I touch one of the patches. It feels cold to my touch. It's recent. Lucien is not responsible. That's just not possible. I pull the sheet off the bed and gather it up leaving the translucent patches to the outside of the bundle of linen. No need for you to know what I did next. Then I go to the cupboard in the upstairs cloakroom, still with the bundle in my arms. Nothing appears to have been moved in there. Not yet anyway. I pass Andersson coming up the stairs. I show him. He looks for a few moments and then back at me.

'Goodness. That looks suspiciously like a successful coming together for Lucien and Simon. Is this cause for some celebration do you think?'

'Yes I do.'

I'm holding the bundle between my face and his. Then I drop the bundle of white linen and Anders and I enjoy a long and very sloppy kiss. One of those spur-of-the-moment things. I have my hands over his bottom and I'm being a bit naughty with it, according to his preference. Anders has the most fabulous bottom and frankly I will never have enough of it. He knows that, and is wonderfully kind, compliant, and I hope this very afternoon, will be accepting of all that I'm capable of giving.

I'm thinking about our Seven Days together fourteen years ago. Two young boy lovers in bed, on the beach, in the cool water, in the bath, making little boy love together most of the time in one way or another; non-sexually of course! But on the Eighth Day, we promised each other that we will make big boy love.

Caring, and further education.

I was about to leave our bedroom to make early morning tea. Both Anders and I had heard a coughing noise from the bedroom next door. As I was leaving the room, Lucien rushed past me and ran into the small cloakroom holding his hand over his mouth. I stopped, obviously, to see what was wrong. Something was. Lucien, his head over the basin, hurried fills his water glass, brings it up to his mouth and hurriedly drinks half of it. Then with both hands he splashes his face with water, still running from the tap. He hears me behind him and turns looking slightly panic stricken.

'What on earth is the matter Lucien? Is Simon here?'

He nods, his hair wet at the front, mouth open, tongue running along his lips.

'What's happened darling?' I say, grabbing him by the shoulders. I look down and see that he's hard, drawn back and there are visible traces.

It doesn't take me long to guess. The game he's been playing didn't quite work out the way it should have done. He and I are staring at each other. I still have him by the shoulders.

'Are you ok?'

He nods.

'Are you sure?'

He nods again.

'When Simon goes home, we'll talk about this. Ok?'

He nods again. I let him go, and he walks back into his bedroom. I know I need to look. Passing the half open door, I see Lucien on the bed, no covering, spooned into Simon's back. Back with Andersson in our bed….

'Did you hear that coughing Anders?'

'Yes. Sounded like Lu.'

'What did it sound like to you? Normal coughing?'

'No. It sounded like something he swallowed went down the wrong way. Is he ok?'

I told Anders what I was thinking.

'Oh dear. Do you think we should sort that out? He must be having technical difficulties. Don't you deal with those matters at Byrom House?'

'Not exactly, but I'm sure it happens everyday. Any suggestions?'

Simon went home around five this afternoon. They'd had a great day on the Town beach with some of the other boys and girls who hang out on Back beach. I showered with him before dinner, and got him, on his knees, to wipe up all the residual sand out of the shower tray that came off his body hair and feet. I have no idea how they get that stuff absolutely everywhere . Our Lulu is tired and I sent him to bed around eight thirty. At nine I went up to say goodnight in the usual way. I kneel by his bed, run my fingers through his hair and kiss him on the forehead. He loves that. It's the best smile of the day.

'Sleep well my darling.' Final words usually but not tonight.

'Sweetheart, I know there was a problem this morning. That's true isn't it?'


'Had Simon asked you to do something you weren't happy about?'

'No. I wanted to. He's my friend. I want him to be happy.'

'Are you absolutely sure he's not asking you to do things you're not comfortable with? Like this morning? Did he ask you to do something for him?'

'No. I wanted to.'

At least I know now. I was right.

'Ok. It didn't go how you thought it would. Is that it?'

'Not really. I wasn't sure how. I wasn't expecting it.'

'Is that the first time?'

'Yes, with Simon. But he's older than Jacob. Jacob doesn't……..'

Just ask the right questions and you'll get the answers.

'Will you show me? Do you do it with Andersson?'

I get it. But what to do now. I am about to get into very deep water. But our boy is in need of some driver education. But how to deliver? That's the question. Demonstrate on him, now? And then him on me, just to see if he's getting it right? This is, in my view, the most vital skill short of giving your bloke a prostate orgasm; something I've certainly never achieved either way. Not yet anyway, but the way things are going with Andersson, all things are possible. We're not quite there yet, but close.

Anyway, to deal with Lu's last question…..

'Yes Lucien. It's usually something your partner enjoys very much.

'Do you like it?'

'I do, just as much as Andersson does. It's another way, a good way, of showing how much we love each other.'

'Do you tell him that you love him?'

'Yes I do. It's important. But you have to know Lucien that things people do in private, the things we have been talking about are just a few of the things that really matter to people who love each other. There are hundreds of other things just as important if not more so that we need to do. Most of them little things that tell your partner that you love them.'

But does he tell me? Has he ever told me?

But you have to know the best ways to do things like that. Older boys aren't the same as younger boys like Jacob. You didn't like what happened did you?'

The first time. The evidence on the bottom sheet? Jacob? This is all making sense now. Perhaps he wasn't expecting it to work quite as well as it did, or quite so fast. So welcome to world of puberty and beyond Lulu! Then there's the taste and the texture. Simon is well into that stage, and very obviously quite a big boy. It's always going to be a surprise. It went further than he could cope with, poor Lucien. He had no real idea, apart from what Simon had spilt on the sheet. No real idea until now. If he hasn't been completely put off, he'll be fine with a little advice from his elders.

I remember the first time with John. It was a shock. The reality took me by complete surprise. The taste like no other, the texture like no other, the warmth of it. The idea of it. I learnt the tricks from John, and I learnt them well. But what do we dare do for Lucien?

There are ways of explaining things. There's the biology for a start. Where the nerve endings are, what to concentrate on, which bits to use, lips, tongue and so on, and a hand too. Combine all those tools in the right way and you have a satisfied partner. Lucien knows what to expect now, and exactly how it all happens, and what it is, and how to deal with it. It's the old adage; practice makes perfect. Andersson is in a very different position to me at Byrom House. There are things he can do that I can't, as much as I would have liked to. Lucky boy. Lucky boys.

So all's well with up-dated Lucien, and consequently with Simon too. There are pleasant noises off in the mornings. Noises both sides of the dividing wall. There are things I can't do, as I've mentioned, that are beyond the limits with regard to Lucien, as much as my baser instincts tell me I'd like to. I've had that experience with Andersson during those Seven Days, the tongue on soft peachy skin, the fingers through silky hair, the endless kisses on his sweet mouth, and all the words of love I gave him. But there are some things I can do with Lucien. The Ferryman can take us to Shaldon where we can wander at will, feel his hand in mine, feel his body against mine, hear his breath, hear his words, touch his face, listen to his thoughts and fears, and just be with him. We can walk through the tunnel and onto the Secret Beach, and he can sit in my lap for his comfort, a controlling palm underneath. Such a simple pleasure.

'Keep still please Lulu.'


'You know why.'

This is not a sin, and no one will see us here.

Andersson knows, and he always knows when it's my time for Lucien. Just the two of us, alone. Lucien knows when it's my time for Anders. Three weeks have gone by now. Two more left here in Teignmouth. Alas, tempus fugit. Then Byrom House School calls again. There will be Jacob, and the others. Charlie and Oliver too. Good boys really. How much love is there in this world? Plenty at Byrom House for sure. Andersson will be with us too, or so he assures me. It would be hard to be without him now.

One day fourteen years ago, on the train to school, Andersson gave me his sign. I'm wondering if he remembers.

'Yes Anders, on the train to Exeter. That first morning when you put your feet up on the seat. That was your signal was it not?' I ask, eyebrows raised. He knows it was.

'Fancy you remembering that. All those years ago.' He says with a wry smile,

'Is this a signal Rufus?'

Everything is there, an invitation delivered with his body, open now for my imminent pleasure, and his. I rest my hands on his knees.

Come on Rufus. He needs you now.

'It was quite memorable as well you know. A first view of a distant landscape you might say? You sat there with your knees wide apart.

'Like this?'

Was that supposed to mean something? All that bare thigh going all the way as I recall.'

'Where to? A snow-white heaven?'

'Absolutely. I almost passed out.'

'It worked didn't it?'

Oh yes. A white cloud, soft and silky, full of promise. Beautiful thoughts as I enter the gates of heaven. Andersson gives me a deep sigh. And then another, louder this time. Lucien will have heard. We kiss again. He grips my thighs. That's the signal. Perhaps it will come to pass this time, our sexual holy grail. I'll try, that's for sure. I'll try very hard.

'And……do you remember our Seven Days Andersson? Perhaps today is our Eighth Day? Do you think we are we ready now?'

Anders laughs. He says he's been ready for quite a while. Years in fact. His head rests to one side of the pillow, mouth open, heart beating faster now, eyes closed, images forming…….

'Yes, I'm ready Roo. And do you know what Rufus? I've been trying to remember for ages if I ever told you.'

'Told me?'

'I'm sorry. I never told you that I loved you.'

This story concludes, but their story will continue…….

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