Johnny Come Home
by Rafael Henry
Chapter 7
'Was I asleep?'
'Yes sweetheart. For the last hour, if not longer.' Alex says, giving John a soft peck on the forehead. The skin felt very warm and slightly moist. Alex feels a leg resting on his as the two boys face each other. He touches John's lips. A tongue appears to re-moisten them. Sleep had dried them out.
'How long?'
'At least an hour,' Alex repeats, his fingers pushing into the boy's hair as those eyes close again.
'I was having a nice dream.'
'What about? Can you remember?'
'Kind of. I was running away from you and you were chasing me.'
'Did I catch you?'
'I wanted you to.'
'And did I?'
'Yes.' The boys says, smiling. 'We were in the grass. It was summer time and warm. You caught me and we fell down, you on top of me. You kissed me.'
'Good. I wanted to catch you very badly.'
'You have.' John says.
'You mean……I did?'
'No, I mean you have .'
'And then what happens? Can you remember?'
'Sort of. Before I went to sleep?'
'Is it coming back?' Alex asks, after a pause in the conversation.
'It has come back.' John says with a huge smile.
'Oh dear. Poor you. I thought it might. Mine has come back too.'
The leg moves further over Alex's thigh.
'Can I lie on you?'
Is the Pope Catholic?
The skin on the boys' back feels warm to the touch of Alex's palms as he moves them up to John's neck and then down to just below the boy's cotton-clad bottom. He can feel the warm breath just below his chin. He blows a few breaths into the perfumed hair. It's two hours since his bathing. Since Alex bathed him. As John's mind clears, he remembers more.
'Did it work? I think it did.'
Alex wasn't quite sure what he meant. Which thing worked? There were two things.
'Everything worked John. Perfectly. Do you want to listen? Or would you rather not?'
Alex uses the sound recorder for his music studies, recording his poor playing. He has to record his playing, for what it's worth, for the practical element of the exam. The school provided the basic equipment. Alex had placed it near their pillow. John had agreed that it would be very sexy idea. Alex is into sounds. Sounds of anything. Water flowing, birds in the garden, a kettle coming to the boil; all sorts. In this case it was a boy coming to the boil.
Alex kept gently rubbing John's back as they listened. As the sounds grew more and more urgent, he left his hands, both of them, on the boy's bottom, one hand on each buttock. He thought how nice it would be at this moment to try to separate them, but that wasn't going to be possible. Anyway, this boy's body is sacred to him, and its secrets can only be offered up by its owner, and only at that perfect moment, if ever.
Neither John nor Alex wanted the hands to be still, and they are not. The boy is waking up as he raises his hips and then lowers them again for his comfort.
The sound track was close to ten minutes in length. It began quietly enough but ended very differently. To Alex, there's nothing more erotic than those very particular sounds, especially when the person making them is the beautiful boy in his bed, now.
The small black machine clicks to 'off'. The boys are still.
'Again please.' Asks John. Alex switches the tape on, rewinds and presses 'play'.
The boys listen to those sounds again as John continues to breathe his warmth onto Alex's skin. The sounds are mesmeric as the tempo rises from level to level ending with those deep sighs and long deep breaths we all know so well. There was almost no sound from Alex, too far from the machine to register what he was doing.
He'd told John to lie on his back. As he complied, Alex pressed the button down and switched on the black recorder. He turns back to John who is staring at him, with little idea of what was about to happen. Alex went about the business with his customary and circuitous tactics designed to keep his subject guessing until all doubt had faded. He made John wait for what he's come here for. Was he or wasn't he? Will he or won't he? Alex, please , don't keep teasing the boy like this.
'Was that really me Alex?'
'Oh yes, it was really you. It's nice isn't it?'
'Umm. It was. Did I?'
'Yes you did. You're a clever boy for your age. Do you know that?'
'Where did it go?'
'It just went away; like magic.'
'Where?'
'Away, like peaches and cream.'
'Really?'
'Yes. Your brother Richard? Did he? Or to put it another way, did you? With him?'
'Sometimes, but not any more.'
'Why not?'
'He doesn't like it, not now. Once was enough.'
'What about the other way?'
'I let him and he lets me.'
'Oh, that's a good arrangement then?'
'This is better. I love you. I just want to tell you. Do you mind my saying that?'
'Of course not! Thank you. I love you too.'
The boys kissed for the first time since John's hour-long recovery sleep. It was special; very special. But John has a concern for Alex.
'Have you……..yet?'
'No, and it doesn't matter. We've work to get done. That's why you're here. Remember?'
'It does matter. To me it does.'
'That's kind of you John, but this is about you, not me. This is your day.'
'So it's part of my day isn't it? It's not fair on you, or me. I want to.'
'So if you did, how?'
'Can I whisper it in your ear?'
Those words in Alex's ear. Leave it up to me, the boy whispers. My way. Let me try…… please let me try. My way.
So what happened in the bath? When Alex bathed Johnny? Something has given John that idea. He said that the bidet doesn't do the job properly. A partial solution but not a complete one.
The boy, lying on his back with his knees raised, looks up at Alex.
'Is that alright John? I'll be very gentle.'
The boy nods and looks down and focuses his attention on what is peacefully at rest, sideways on his abdomen, unsheathed. He knows what will happen as Alex begins his gentle intrusion. John knows it will be the most delicious of sensations for his pleasure.
John watches. What was a rest a few moments ago, is no longer at rest, but growing more expectant and demanding. But this won't be like Richard when the two boys played their silly game playing mums and dads when they make babies. He caught a glimpse of Alex just now, naked, and he's not like Richard is, all smooth and slippery like an eel wriggling inside him. It would be a very different wriggling eel, this one.
The boy closes his eyes, breathing deeply. Long deep breaths. Alex keeps what they need in his bedside table, the drawer from where he'd got the small black recorder from.
'We need to oil the wheels John.'
'Will you do it?'
'Yes of course. Are you sure?'
'Yes.'
John doesn't lack perseverance. He's that kind of a boy who, when he's made his mind up that he's going to get something he wants, he usually gets it. Neither does Alex lack commitment to this particular cause. His arousal is complete, and given his earlier and admirable self-control, he's unlikely to lose what he's achieved, just as John won't. The 'oiling of the wheels' was a new experience for him and an exciting one to say the least, and it's showing in a way that boys like in a boy. What Alex liked when he lay down with Simon Perret that afternoon. What Simon saw in him too. The imminence of sexual pleasure.
John had made the decision to try it this way, more or less sitting on top of Alex with his knees either side of Alex's body so he could control things 'his end', so to speak. It's a matter of positioning himself exactly right, helped by Alex who shifted his hips a little further forward, so he could ease the boy back as matters progressed. If they did. Alex was worried that he would lose impetus as John struggled. But while he can gaze at John's delicious penis, upright and skinned, he was never going to go soft on his lover.
There's a look of determined concentration on the boy's face as he looks down at Alex's firm tummy, his mouth open, breathing hard as he strives for a perfect alignment that will signal the beginning of fruitful sexual intercourse between a boy of thirteen and his sixteen-year-old lover. They would listen to the recording later, and what a post-coital entertainment that will be.
The sounds of exhaled breath, and all the other sounds that signal effort, the frustration and then finally, success. The boys look at each other. A few drops dribble down Alex's temple into his left ear as he takes an even firmer grip on the boy's hips. He raises his knees as John leans forward. Yes, this is perfect.
'Are you ok John?' Asks Alex, worried that they've gone too far with this.
'Yeah.' Responds the boy breathlessly, his hair fallen down over his face, his hands pushing down on Alex's shoulders, pinning him to the bed.
' You do it now. Please.' The boy demands, his breathing longer and deeper and louder. The sounds of heavy breath everywhere.
Quintus Beer had shown him things he knew he shouldn't have done. Boys doing it like this, and other ways too. That's what Alex and Quintus would do after they moved in together. Maybe they would be married one day? But then Quintus left. Just like that, he was gone. Not even a note of explanation. He must have known he was going.
Alex finished off with a series of penetrating strokes that reached as far into John as he could physically go, at least that's what it felt like to John as his head jolted forwards again and again. He was sure he would have scratches on his buttocks, not that he would mind those battle scars. What blissful pain it is.
'Will you carry me please?' Asks John in that low quiet velvety voice of his, midway between boy and youth.
'That would be nice.' Says Alex, his soothing hands still on John's body. And convenient too.
With John's narrow light build and relatively narrow frame, the task of carrying him into the bathroom was doable, but Alex needed all his strength to lift the boy from the bed and get him sat on the bidet for five minutes or so. Sex can inevitably be messy, as Alex learned on his emotional travels, so the boy's short journey meant a hand under his bottom, and to be more specific, one finger acting as a cork, just in case.
John looks up at Alex who is taking a deep breath from the effort of carrying the six stone body.
'Why did you do that just now?'
'Do what sweetheart?'
'With your hand?'
'Oh don't worry about that. I'll tell you later.'
Alex ran a basin of warm water for his hands first and then to wash his circumcised penis, an object he didn't consider to be a thing of any particular beauty. But it had done the job as far as he and Johnny are concerned. And how. He managed to get all his bits over the edge of the basin, necessary as some of his semen had managed to find its way elsewhere too. He cupped the water in one hand and poured the water into the other, his testicles in between the two.
By the time John was off the bidet, and had a small quantity of thick white soothing cream they use on babies bottoms to alleviate nappy rash, inserted and then gently worked into his anus, John was hard again, and possibly in need. It had been more than an hour since. For a boy of thirteen in the throes of his burgeoning sexuality, that's quite a long time to wait for second helpings.
'Can we go back to bed Alex?'
'Of course. I assumed you would want to.'
'Why?'
'I just thought you might want to. I do.'
'Will you rub me up please?' The boy asks, holding his penis.
Alex and John kissed again. Alex had already started the process of 'rubbing up' his friend. From the first moment that Alex had set his eye on John, he suspected more than one thing. It was the way he had caught his eye, the first glances, the rather stilted first conversation, and the way he wore his clothes to show himself off. Sitting next to him in the library with a hand in his pocket, fiddling, he had judged John to be well endowed. And he is. It would be a case of using all four fingers and a thumb, rather than the two fingers and a thumb he had used on the diminutive Simon Perret, and just a spot of sticky at the end of it all. He'd experienced several uncircumcised boys and noticed that foreskins varied in length, especially when their penises were fully 'up'. Boys had told him that a little saliva helped when they felt the need to come. He could understand why.
It didn't take long for Alex to make Johnny come for the second time that morning. They both watched, John's head up from the pillow to see his own show. Just one little arced streak that landed neatly on his tummy, and then the rest, more of a dribble than anything more dramatic, most of it on Alex's thumb, but simply dealt with. Alex rewound the small black tape recording machine to the very beginning. It had proved an inspiration. John's eyes were already closed, his breathing regular and smooth. Alex passed his hands over the boy's body. He felt his eyes filling, gave them a wipe with the back of his free hand, and closed them. It was like a huge wave, the feeling he had. Like falling into a vast pool of light, his body weightless. He thought that's what love feels like.
Alex often thought about Simon Perret, the little and so obviously attractive scum bag, what with his white blond locks, pink lips and blue eyes. Surely he'd like his bottom touched, as much as Alex longed to touch it, thoroughly inappropriately of course. When he did try, out there in the July sun-soaked landscape, he got short shrift.
'Get off, queer!'
Alright, they orgasmed together which was very satisfactory, exactly together in fact, not that Simon was in the least bit bothered about Alex's outcome, or if he had one at all. When it was over, it was over. That utterly selfish boy, so lovable with that wiggling bottom of his, mincing its way to morning showers, towel not around his waist but around his shoulders so we can all see and admire…...and desire. And so very different to Johnny. Like chalk and cheese. You couldn't describe Johnny as a pretty boy. Attractive? Oh yes.
Alex looked at the small travel clock on top of the bedside cabinet. Eleven minutes past ten.
Garth had been in the kitchen next door to Alex's accommodation, separated from the room by the rather meagre plywood door, and now dressed in shorts and tee shirt, flip-flops on his feet. He had heard no more sounds, not now, from next door and assumed the boys were snoozing or perhaps in the garden already. Perhaps he should knock? They must be hungry by now. There again, perhaps he shouldn't. He paused in thought for a few seconds with his ear to the door, holding the tea towel he'd used to dry the two tea mugs. No sound this time. He decided not to tell Sean what he'd heard through the door and from the bed. There was no point. Why would a father want to know, or even less, need to know what his son and his friend were doing? It was sex. There was no doubt about that, and by the sound of things, it had gone to plan. He'd never been a father or was never going to be. He was now the live-in lover of Alex's father. That's enough isn't it? Yes, as much as he admired Alex, in so many ways, he should let sleeping dogs lie.
Garth made his way up to the bedroom. Sean was lying on his side, probably faking sleep. He often played that little game, hoping, or rather assuming he would shortly feel Garth's hands on his body.
'How are you feeling this morning my darling young one?' He asks, his hand gently stroking a bare shoulder. Already, back in an explosive mood, he opens his crystal blue eyes.
On his back now, the expressionless mask turns to a smile.
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