Lael
by Rafael Henry
Chapter 24
I was glad.
'Are you ok sleepy boy?'
The boy nods his head and smiles.
'No regrets?'
The boy shakes his head, his smile even broader now.
'Good. Sure?'
A reassuring nod of the head.
A few things happened last night, and this morning. Nothing drastic. He won't get pregnant. But it was lovely. Very calm, carefully and quietly talked about before each step, and all very normal for boys like us. Things worked easily because we both wanted it, just as it did with Lael exactly one year ago, almost to the day. It could almost have been Lael, with me, all night in bed together. Then there was one, and then another for him, and finally one for me. Beginners stuff really, apart from those sweet kisses to start things off.
'You're heavy. Do you mind moving off me for mo?'
'Yes I do actually.' He says. 'It's nice here, like this. I like it.'
'For you maybe. I'm feeling a bit squashed.'
'Sorry.'
'I told Freddie we'd take him to showers. That was five minutes ago. Do you want to come? I think you could do with it. You're a bit whiffy Otta.'
'In what way?'
'In a nice way.' I say softly as I take his head in my hands and plant another kiss not so much on his mouth, but in it. Lovely. He does pong a little. Boys for you. He lets me gently ravish his mouth for a few seconds, then in that boyish way, he wipes it all away with the back of his hand, like it's some odious substance to be rid of as soon as it touches you. He looks down at me, smiling.
'You shouldn't do that Jon.'
'Why not?'
'You know why not. It does things.'
Actually, yes I do know why not. It's hasn't been long since, but for Otta, that's long enough. Kissing is the key to unlock the door, or in his case, gently; very gently, ease the door wide open to let me in.
Our happy camper Freddie sleeps in his underpants. Why do that I wonder? Nice though. Robbie like to retain his until I arrived to see to things. It was a game. He'd try to resist my efforts with the intention of letting me win just as he was ready for me. You know he's as hard as a nail underneath, and desperate. I never let him down. He'd 'protect' himself with his hands and I would have to prize them away to reach my goal. That was the game. Of course resistance was futile. He always gave in, and I always won. He was very lucky that I was so accommodating and prepared to fight to give him his daily pleasure. It can get very warm with one's head under a sheet and two blankets, and that's not the half of it.
Freddie slips his tee off his shoulders, and then off come those under things that's hiding an early morning sunrise. No little surprise here but a larger one than I was expecting, the one-eyed snake peaking through the well-fitting ring of skin. These boys have no shame these days, or do they even realise? Freddie takes the white shorts from my hand and slips them over his feet and stands up to finish the job, yanking them up unceremoniously. He doesn't bother to look down at the boyish projection thrusting into the front of his shorts. That's a good sign. He's not in the slightest bit bothered that I'm in close attendance. Why should he? He's amongst friends. Otta just manages to suppress a laugh. Freddie looks down suddenly aware. There's no one else awake in the room, the other three heads buried beneath bedclothes.
'Come on. We'll show you where to go. Otta, take Freddie with you. I'll be there in a minute.'
I draw back the bedclothes to give it an airing. There's the faint whiff of a warm boy's body. I straighten the bottom sheet and feel myself just at the very beginning of arousal as I do it. That's my female side coming out. Doing little tasks like that and enjoying it. I smooth out the sheet where Freddie lay. Why do I find that so sexy? Anyway, our new boy seems at home already. I bet he's surrounded by sisters and he's excited to be with boys for once.
I've joined the other two in the showers. He's a freckly boy, our new boy, as Otta rather bluntly pointed out. He has freckles on his shoulders, his face and just about everywhere else, including there . Freddie's watching me 'do' Otta's back for him, that's to say from his head down to the back of his calves, and all the bits in between. I look at Freddie who seems fascinated by the attention Otta's getting to a part that most boys rarely bother with. I say most boys. Otta, eyes closed and with his hands held under his chin, just lets it happen, but putting it bluntly, he's never going to compete with the exceptional Freddie. Oh Golly.
After breakfast at eight thirty, I'm getting prepared for the coming day, starting at nine, back at the Hut. Otta's sitting beside me on the hard bed we've shared for the first time last night; with all its surprises.
'Did you notice Freddie's thingamy Jon?'
'Yes I did. You couldn't miss it.'
'It's like a big sausage Jon.'
'You shouldn't comment Otta. Some boys are born with slightly larger ones.'
'Not like that surely?'
'Yes, like that. Anyway, no need to be jealous, I think yours is much nicer.'
'It looks like he's…….you know; excited all the time?'
'Probably a curse more than anything. Why? Do you wish you had one like that?'
'Would you rather I did?'
'Certainly not. You're perfect as you are.'
'Does he make more………you know……of that stuff you get?'
'No, not necessarily. It makes no difference, in theory. At least I don't think so. It's probably more to with the size of your niblicks. There's no hurry for you Otta. Boys like that don't get any bigger when they're excited; unlike your good self Otta. You are much nicer dear boy. Just think how you change from one thing to another. Now that's the beauty of it in my opinion.'
The boy smiles, and I'm right. Just watch the transition as he wakes up, and grows, and then bursts forth into flower. It's beautiful.
I'm so susceptible. I love the boy's moody expressions and brooding good looks. I never imagined he knew so much. It seems that for me, when a door closes, another will open, leaving me free to love again. He's so different to Lael, and the selfish but very lovable Robby. It's the way he fixes you with his eyes, dark and questioning. Yes, there's always a question in those eyes of his, and a certain determination to make things work. To me, Otta's potential is unlimited. But then I'm seeing him in a golden light; the light of the coming day. Not that I'll see much of him until our happy campers finish late this afternoon. He'll be busy helping out with the music courses going on, and I will be at the pool all day seeing more of Freddie Smith clad in just his streamlined swimming togs leaving little to the imagination.
This morning Otta came with me to rouse Freddie Smith from his bed, whom we now know as 'Dickie', to the surprise and consternation of Otta, when he compared himself to our new boy on the block. Like most boys, Otta multiplies in volume by a factor of six, at least, when aroused, whereas Freddie might make something only slightly enlarged from an 'at rest' state. Odd that. Curious, I looked it up in the library one day. It's all to do with the erectile tissue you are born with. It contracts neatly into a small volume when the penis is flaccid, but a few hardly contract at all, thus their flaccid penis is much larger, but more or less the same when blood fills the cavities to make the boy's penis more rigid. Hardness. That's another thing I've noticed. Lael was firm, you might say, but Otta is genuinely hard . With a very slight curve upperwards, almost vertical when he's standing. Before you say it, I know, I am one lucky boy; so far.
With towels around us after our shower, we walked Freddie back to his room, he to get dressed for breakfast and Otta and I to stroll back to the Hut. The other boys in his room were just getting up, sleepy eyed, and in various stages of undress preparing themselves for the showers. It would have looked a bit odd if we had hung around at that point so we left Freddie there as the three boys wrapped in towels wandered past us looking curious as to why Freddie had been so quick off the mark.
Back in the Hut, we had some time to reflect on the coming day, me in the deep armchair in the corner opposite the bed, and Otta sprawled and relaxed in my lap. Last night Otta admitted that he'd had sight of The Beginners Guide. Robbie had shown him some time before. He knew where I had hidden it, alongside the bag of Otta's clothes and another necessary item that Robbie and I needed. He said that Robbie and he had 'not done anything', and I believed him. They had just looked at the book a few times. On one of the last pages, the book illustrated two figures in a chair just like the one in the hut. Robbie suggested it, and I was more than willing to try it out. After a few adjustments, we got it to work nicely. Our little system meant simultaneous pleasure was easy to achieve rather than one partner being used as some sort of vehicle for the other. Right now, Otta is not dead centre, but off-centre enough to turn his face towards mine and give me one of those smiles of his. I know exactly what he's angling for.
'There isn't time Otta. Look, it's gone half past eight.'
'There is for me.' He says putting on that silly pleading face.
Ok then.
I centre him on my lap and lift him where it's comfortable for me, his legs spread either side of mine. There are two clips to unhook, something to slide down, and a gathered waistband to lift up and carefully over, and there he is, the source rather than the fountain of a boy's pleasure. He's got ten minutes of my undivided attention. He feels warm and soft down there as I gently feel all the parts he wants me to, and with my other hand actively underneath him. That seems to do it for Otta. Just like Lael, it's the very centre of his sexual being. Crumbs, how that suits my needs too. But right now, we need to get straight on with this. None of those lovely teasing kisses we are getting used to now, no frilly little tickles that he loves, just the bare bone of the matter.
I can see nicely over Otta's shoulder as he squirms away in my lap, the boy's legs wider apart now, knees raised. I know he can feel me firm underneath his bottom. He pushes himself a little higher to get a little more stimulation from my body, and within the next minutes, amid some noisy breathing, his tiny internal pump gets ready to do it's job once more. It's been ridiculously quick this time. Two finger tips applying light pressure between on his perineum tell me his ejaculation has begun. Five or six times the muscle contracts, his head knocking back against my chin as the clear bead of viscous liquid forms; and then a little more as the bead becomes a tiny trickle. I'm in complete control. I remember that early phase myself, and how powerful it can be. Such beautiful moments they are as I contemplate the miracle of human relationships in these quiet moments; how they form so often by chance, how they develop and express themselves in a physical manifestation like this, albeit a rather selfish one in this case; one sided you might say, but brightly lit all the same.
He needs five minutes to get normal again, to feel in control; to feel right. I'm holding him tight here, and watching his body relax. Extraordinary.
I'm putting Otta 'back together' as he stands before me, like a boy being made ready for his school day by a doting mum. This is a working day, twenty or so of us in our usual school uniform so we can be easily recognized as official helpers in the week's events. I look at the result. The boy looks down at me, standing as I'm sitting. That brooding expression again, the head turned slightly sideways, sizing up his prey. He knows that all his demands will be met.
'You'll do.' I say, patting his hips as he turns to rest in my lap again, sideways this time, one arm around my neck, my right hand pushed between his thighs and as high as I can go.
It's a gentle recovery for Otta, a slow one, and important to spend this time with him soon after the event, the recovery period a boy always needs if he can get it. Otta is limp in my arms, turned towards me again, dressed for the day ahead, the intense pleasure over now, and just that persistent tingling left to savour. We need to sit still and silent for ten minutes. As for me? Well, I'm happy to wait. This day, we both have work to do.
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