Johnny Come Home

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 15

Anna's pregnancy has not been an easy one, but she told me last Thursday that she thought the worst was over regarding the sickness. The noise of her trying to throw up nothing several times a day was distressing. The last thing on her mind was any form of sex, understandably. I had kept Adrean going in that department for more than a month with my oral skills but Anna had something to tell me.

'I know he's very grateful Alex, but……..'

'But what Anna?'

'For a man, there's the other thing he really needs.'

'The other thing?'

'Yes. Would you let him have sex with you?'

'You mean…….?'

'Yes. Have you ever had an experience like that before Alex?'

'Err, no, not really.' I half-lied. Johnny and I had 'experimented', shall we say.

'Well you'd be doing me a great favour if you would be prepared to try it with him? If it doesn't work for either of you, it's no biggy.'

Bloody hell! I wasn't expecting that. I've had a couple of boys interested in me 'back there', leaving their calling cards between my buttocks, but nowhere near the full monty. Come to think of it, it was extraordinarily pleasurable, the sensation of a couple of squirts, to put it crudely, of warm wetness between one's cheeks that you could carry about with you for the rest of the day, safe in one's pants, to remember the occasion by. Anyway, enough of that stuff .

Supper was a quiet affair tonight. Anna packed the boys off to bed early and after a half hour of TV, we went up too. It is to be a trial run. By the time Adrean had undressed me, I was nicely upright and tingling with anticipation. Adrean was in the same state as me. They always kept two or three tubes of lubricant in handy places so one didn't have to think too hard where they were if needed in a hurry. Anna had asked me how I might prefer to be 'satisfied', her word not mine; and certainly not the word I would have used. It appears that it's Aderean who needs extreme satisfaction. What I've done for him hasn't been enough it seems.

'Did Toby do you last night Alex?'

'Yeah.'

'Was he rough with you?'

'Yeah! It was great.'

'Did it hurt?'

'Yeah, a bit.'

'Did he come?'

'Yeah.'

'How did you know he did?'

'You just know.'

'How?'

'How do you think, dumbo.'

Hmm. Not very romantic day dream. Adrean would never treat anyone like that.

Anna had spread a dark blue towel out on the bed, our side. I am to be on my back so I can see Adrean. Anna was stroking my arm as Adrean applied the clear gel, a delightful process I have to say, as I lay back looking up at the ceiling and enjoying every moment of Adrean's attention to the inside of my rear end. He's stopped now and as I look forward Adrean is anointing himself. Goodness knows how he's going to get that bulbous thing inside me, but science tells me that it's entirely possible. Quintus eat your heart out. I'm ready for anything.

I'm not going to go into a long description here because it's all pretty obvious what happens. Did it work? Yes it did. I got 'done' comprehensively, and after the initial discomfort, my body accepted its fate and took what was coming to it. I had read that some boys can orgasm during sex, due to the rubbing action of the penis on their prostate gland. In an ideal world. I did get some good internal vibes as Adrean satisfied himself rather selfishly, but I accepted my role with equanimity. What a good boy I am.

It's not hard to know when a boy is going to come. They give you their unique set of sounds. Gosh, that is so sexy. The sounds they make. Adrean somehow managed to dribble on my face as he worked his way in increments, into me. Now I know where 'little' Johnny gets it from. Not so little these days. That's what I noticed about him from the start, how he was packed into those fitted Levi trousers.

With my arms around his shoulders and my legs wrapped around his back, I pulled Adrean tight against me as he let go with several last and final deep thrusts, the last one pushed as hard into me as he could get, and held still for several seconds as he pulsed away. Oh Quintus! Fill me, fill me up!

What goes up, tends to comes down, especially when you start walking to the bathroom. There was a spot of sticky on my tummy when Adrean got off me, but I hadn't come. Anna put her finger in it as I watched. I looked at her face, her eyebrows raised. Is that a question? Are you offering? Yes please, if you wouldn't mind. She's always gentle with me, and can do it far better than the average boy. Adrean had left the room and by the time he came back, I was done, another way. A very simple but nice way. So as I close my eyes, all is well in my world.

With all my final exams over and done with, we no longer have to attend any classes although the term doesn't end for a while yet, so I have officially left school now. But with Johnny still there for another three weeks, I still have an interest. When John's term, and the school year ends, I shall finally leave for Truro. That's going to be difficult for all of us. John knows what's coming, but I'm making a contingency plan for him. Something, or somebody, for him to focus on rather than me, and all packaged up in the shape and form of Peregrine Merciful. Fancy that, a real live choir boy at one's disposal! In my dreams I once wondered if the boys wore clothes under all those robes, all that clobber, and Perry assured me that they did, usually. The possible exception was in hot weather when shirt and ties were abandoned and trousers, most of the boys in short ones. That made the boys in the front row vulnerable to their elders and betters in the row behind them. I'm still not sure if he was joking or not. He must have been surely? Just imagine hitting a top C feeling a hand go up behind you. Could it ever have happened? Aware of the reputation of the C of E, it probably has. I just hope the boy concerned wasn't put off, the sweet little lark.

Talking of which, I went to hear Perry sing yesterday, and persuaded John to come with me. I think he quite enjoyed the experience as we sat a safe distance from the action, and just listened. I pointed out our new friend amongst the other boys in their red cassocks and white surplices. Very pretty.

'What do you think of Perry?' I asked as we walked home.

'What do I think about him?'

'Yes. Do you like him?'

'He's ok I suppose.'

'Go on. What do really think about him?'

'He's quite nice.' He says, smiling and flushing noticeably.

'Well then, that's good.'

'Better when he takes his glasses off.'

'That's not fair. He can't help having to wear glasses can he?'

'No. But he's better without them.'

'You mean better looking?'

'I suppose so.'

'So do you think he's nice looking. Be honest.'

'Yes he is. But as you tell me, looks aren't the most important thing.'

'No, it's the person inside. Like you for instance. You're very beautiful inside.'

'But not outside?'

'Outside too. I won't stop loving you when I go to Truro.'

'Won't you?'

'No. But you know I have to go.'

'You won't ever come back?'

'I might, but it won't be like it has been. It will be different. Perry likes you. Did you know that? And he's almost your age. I'll come into school a couple of times in the next three weeks but I can help your mum at home a lot more now. She's not been very well with the baby, as you know. How do you feel about having a little brother or sister?'

'Ok.'

'You can help Anna. I hope you will? Be a big strong boy for her. Be helpful.'

'What? And change nappies?'

'Yes. It'll be good for you. I do love you.'

'You too. You will come back won't you?'

'Yes I will. But I need to know you can move on from where we've been for a while now. You must.'

'I know. Shall I try with Perry?'

'I think that's a great idea John. You can have lots of fun with him if you play it right. From what you've said, it might be the right time to change your position too. Some say it's better to give than to receive. I suspect Perry would approve of that. I'm of the opinion that he thinks you've got something he needs. You're going to have plenty to give John.' I said, patting him on the bottom.

I left my hand there, feeling the robust seams of his underpants through his trousers with thankfully no back pockets. That's a new thing with boys' trousers now. No back pockets. A jolly good thing, that is. So now one can ponder both cheeks with no interference.

'That one over there, talking to the dark-haired boy. I reckon it's boxer shorts damn his ignorant mummy.' 'I have to disagree Tony. Briefs. I'll go up to him and drop this notebook in front of him and then request he picks it up. He'll have to bend down to pick it up.' The very junior boy with the fulsome bottom did as he was asked; and I was proved right. 'You are perfectly correct Alex. Quite lovely. Next question. Plain or patterned?' 'That's a question I might be able to answer Tony. I know him. Hang on a tick and I'll ask him.'

'Hello Simon. A friend of mine wants to know something.' 'Oh. What?' The boy asks, looking a tad perplexed. 'He's curious as to what colour the underpants you're wearing are? Are you prepared to divulge?' The boy smiles and thinks for a few seconds. 'Err, pale blue I think. Maybe pink ones?' 'You're not sure?' 'No. White maybe. Does it matter?' 'Yes, it does to him. It's an important detail. He wants to know.' 'Ok. Changing rooms?'

Answer, just plain old white. Just as it should be. Such were the junior boys at S. Endellions; amenable to any question. Many minor sexual encounters took place in the changing room corners. Simon Perret, who thus far had not shown any evidence that he 'liked' Alex, presented himself in that quiet corner, duly undoing his grey short trousers and lowering them sufficiently for inspection, his dinky winkie waking up at the prospect of doing so. 'Perfect Simon. I'll tell Tony Maggs. One other thing Si. Roundhead or Cavilier?' Simon duly answered in a way that left no doubt as to the answer. Like most boys these days, he's an uncut Cavilier.

Meanwhile back to the present……

'One last question John, regarding Perry. What do you like best about him?'

'Inside or outside?'

'Outside.'

'Do I have to answer that?' John asks, looking up at me, all smiles.

'Yes you do .'

'Oh, I think he has nice eyes; and mouth too.'

'Ok. Anything else?'

'He has a sweet little……….'

'Little……….what?'

'You know. One of those.'

'And does it do anything?'

'I don't know. Not yet.'

We both laughed. I've had sight of what John is referring to concerning Perry's anatomy and I think it will come up with the goods very nicely, in due time. Another six months, or less probably?

I'd done some shopping for Anna, who seems to have bulged a little more in recent days. She's been for a second ultrasound exam and a boy is confirmed. Just the one. No twins in there; or worse. I've also taken on the ironing, her stuff included. Anna said not to iron the boys' 'smalls', but I do. Always, and then fold them the way I like to, all neat and tidy for the shelf in the cupboard. I'm a right little house maid. Every now and then, when holding the boys' things, I reflect on my love for both of them, John and Richard, and have a surreptitious weep, a sort of pre-grief trial for when I leave them. Sex with John has been very necessary for both of us, not some ill-advised add-on. Besides it's been hugely enjoyable, with no bad effects. So what's the problem? There was and is no problem. I'm as gay as a horse, and he is too, most likely. He wanted it from the beginning and I did too. But he's gradually changing from a boy who loves being underneath to the one who is on top, giving it his all as he ejaculates his watery seed between my bottom cheeks. Maybe a girl will come along and turn his head, but I doubt it. No, he's a boy's boy, this one. I wanted to be a man's boy but that didn't quite work out. Quintus . I wonder where he is now?

I made my way down to the bottom corner of the school playing field to that out of sight spot John, Perry and I found so convenient a couple of weeks ago. John had told me this morning he was going to meet Perry down there after their lunch. When I arrived, they were sitting a yard apart and playing with straws of dry grass, tickling each other's faces. I got the impression that I wasn't wanted, so I duly made some fatuous apology and left them. I'm sure they're at that charming wooing stage boy's go in for when they have feelings for another, rather than just lustful ambitions. Two rather pink faced boys wanting each other for a bit more than a friendly chat. Tonight I will find out what transpired, hopefully, if anything did. At least my plan to divert John away from me just might be working. Tomorrow I shall start sorting myself out for my departing this particular stage of my life. Yes, I'm sad. I'm not usually susceptible to weeping but in the last few days I have succumbed rather. And why not. Better to have loved and lost my beautiful boy, than not to have loved him at all.

'So how did it go with Perry today?'

'Alright thanks Alex.'

'Just, alright?'

'Yes. Quite good actually.'

'How good?'

'Very good.'

'And?'

'That's it. Very good.'

'Meany. Go on, tell all.'

'He's my new friend now.'

'So I'm history then?'

'No of course not. I'll always love you.'

'Me too. Some things never change. Will never change,'

'No.'

'No first kisses then?'

'With you?'

'No silly, with Peregrine Merciful.'

'Maybe.'

'Oh good. Lots?'

'A few.'

'Proper ones?'

'Yes.'

'And any reaction?'

'Me; or him?'

'Both.'

'Me.'

'What about him? Could you tell?'

'There were some boys playing nearby.'

'Oh bad luck. Will there be a next time?'

'Tomorrow. I'm meeting him again tomorrow.'

'Ask him back for tea or something?'

Goodbyes are never easy for me. My last night, a Saturday, was quiet, Anna and Adrean being invited out for dinner and very conveniently on purpose, meant a stay overnight at their friends house. So John and I had the big bed to ourselves for the night. I suppose there should have been some bedroom fireworks, both of us having multiple orgasms. It wasn't like that at all. Tender is the night, with much reflection and a sprinkling of weeping from both of us. In the end we did it in a chair, a method whereby he sits in my lap so I can get at his front bits. We both like it that way and it caters for us both coming more or less at the same time. I was deep between, rather than in, for ages while I played with him. His poor old balls have been working overtime recently, but they never disappoint, the lovely big ovals that they are, producing sperm these days like it's going out of fashion. John is quite a bit shorter than I am, so I can get a view of what's happening over his shoulder. He loves me to watch and I love watching. We were nicely co-ordinated this time, and within a few seconds of each other. A fitting finale indeed.

I took John into the bathroom, ran the hot tap until the water was warm and standing behind him, both of us observing this ritual in the big mirror above the wash basin, gently bathing him with his own face flannel all around his nether regions and tummy and chest. I find tending to this boy unbearably erotic. I have no idea what I'm going to do without him. By the time he was smelling like a rose again, and facing me, kissing my lips like he does, we were wanting again. Fifteen minutes is long enough in between love making to want to make love again.

So it was not quite the finale then. It left me with the pleasantest task to complete the evening's proceedings. My tongue traces the magic trail from nipples all the way south, via his nave, to where it tingles unbearably for sweet Johnny. It'll take a while but it's worth all the time it takes. There's no need for another trip to the bathroom this time, and five minutes later, my boy is sleeping in my arms. He can't feel me touch his lips with mine. He doesn't know how I study his face, how Iong his eye lashes are, how deep is the blue of his eyes, the little pink patches on his cheeks, the tiny hairs on his top lip. All those things that make me marvel at the beauty of this human being, all that's within it and without. The things I can see about him. The things I know about him. What we have both been given to share with each other in love. Sleep in peace my lovely, for tomorrow will come.

I thought I had heard the bedroom door open. As I force my eyes open after eight hours of good sleep, there are shafts of light slicing through the curtains and casting a golden light onto Johnny's face. He's taking long deep breaths as he sleeps on, a limp hand just under his chin. I can guess where the other one is and when I carefully lift the covers to look at his naked body, I'm right. That's worth a smile. I wonder what's going on in that brain of his right now? Something interesting by the look of him. And he hasn't heard what I heard. Richard is with us.

'I love you.' He says, as he wriggles himself tight into me, his hands held together under his chin. He's physically very different to John, and in character too. Quite different.

'I love you too.' I say quietly. I say it because I do love him, but in that kindly way one does have love for this brother and best friend. A very different kind of love. But next to me, in contact with skin, is a naked boy. It's quite impossible not to be affected by this fact. It just happens. As the song goes, it's all too beautiful. He knows it's happened but it doesn't mean anything else has to happen. Of course it won't. It never has, and never will. Nothing. It's happened to him now. He's such a pretty boy, there, and everywhere.

'I'm turning over now.' I say to him as he looks into my eyes.

'Can I stay here?'

'Yes. Are you alright?'

He nods and closes his eyes. I look at John again as he exhales a long breath with its early morning sweetness. I washed his hair last night so it too smells sweet this morning. There's early morning lust in the bed. Love and lust combined which makes for a heady cocktail. Richard moves again, tighter now as he touches my back, a warm palm on my warm skin. And then there are noises downstairs.

Adrean is preparing to leave for work. It's Anna, the mother figure, who will come upstairs and find us.

In due course she will give birth to a new brother for John and Richard the Lionheart. The Fearless one. The baby is growing inside her, day by day, growing in every way. She places her palm on her bulging stomach, where the baby is growing, her navel enlarged and protruding. I stare at the large bump and the two small breasts above, the nipples the colour of a nut, hard looking, which will one day give out food for the infant boy. The boy will suck for his survival. The giver of life. Who made this thing? Who brought all this about? Into being ? Where and how will our lives end? This strange circle of our lives.

I look at the dark triangle of her pubic hair, and then her sexual parts between her legs. She's next to her son John now. Those Thursdays when I put my penis in her, and my sperm entered her body more than once. Several times in fact. A sixteen-year-old boy won't make a baby. Liquid life you might say. Adrean used a rubber boot, as he calls those things he leaves lying on the floor all cold and used, the end bit full of his milky cloudy sperm. It went all over my thumb once, that stuff of life, wasted that time, milky and warm on the tongue. The tang of it, the familiar perfume given off. A man and a boy on heat. And now it's in Anna body, metamorphosed, and growing day by day.

John started to cry. I put my hand on his back by way of comfort. I've always enjoyed stroking John's back, warm and firm as it is. He's clinging on to his mother as I go on with my comforting, avoiding going too low. This is not the right moment for fingers between the buttocks, and beyond. Normally John would welcome such an intrusion, but right now he's deeply troubled. It's about the change in his life that is about to happen. No amount of mental preparation can mitigate against shocks, like one's parents separating. Everything you thought was stable suddenly crumbles into a pile of dust. We need to feel secure. When we think we're not, then instability can quickly, if not instantly, set in. There's a bond between John and I which I truly believe in. I know he does too, so that knowledge shall sustain us. In the meantime there is pain to endure, but hopefully short time pain which will pass, so we can both remember the happy times together, and they were plenty of those.

In my experience there are different kinds of crying. Drop, drop slow tears. And there's what John is doing now, those shoulder heaving cries for help, shouts almost, uncontrollable sobs that will go on for minutes until the pain temporarily eases, before the next round begins.

Anna is crying too, for her beloved son. If you are anywhere near, or ever been in such a situation, then you will be crying too. Impending loss. Sadly, a necessary loss.

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