by Rafael Henry

Chapter 37

All is revealed.

Otta's up at Holland house doing his volunteering again. He's lucky that the farm income, his inheritance from Granny Amelia, basically keeps him in reasonable style. So he has the freedom to do his fund-raising projects, and helping out at Holland House, quite often overnight these days. I'm terrified he's going to get too embroiled with our very own Apollo, aka Wulff. I can only hope he doesn't give in to the boy's charms. But to be fair, his piano playing, Wulff's that is, has come on in leaps and bounds. Mozart's sonata in C Major sounds about right now, as do some of the other not too difficult pieces. This afternoon I have my meeting with Roger, our erstwhile cleric at the old school who has had enough of guiding the moral ship for so many youngsters in dire need of moral guidance. I'm not sure of what he's planning to do next, but I shall find out later. In my mind I'm geared up for sex with Roger. I don't know where we'll do it, if we do, but I quite fancy the Hut, for old times sake. I may be quite wrong about this meeting, but I got the impression from our chat on the 'phone that it was an open-ended situation; a sort of 'I'd like to after all this time, if you would too'. Now's his chance, and I'm prepared. We knew him at school when he was in his thirties, and pretty fit. Through his running shorts there not much left to the imagination, and certainly more of a challenge than Otta had or has ever been, and Robbie certainly nowhere near.

We met in the garden as planned. He didn't want me ringing the front door bell.

'Would you like to see your old haunt Jon?'

That was invitation enough. Roger had told me years before that he had missed out on what some of us boys were getting up to as youngsters here. I would have let him, but he resisted the urge to do what he'd like to with me. Now he can with impunity.

He unlocked the door to the Hut, we went in, and I could see that things were much as they were, but more dilapidated now, except for the chair that was in the corner, now close to the bed. I remember that chair vividly, and how useful it was, and no doubt Roger was aware of how you get two bodies nicely disposed in it. It's wider that usual and the back slopes nicely. Otta would sit in my lap, either facing me or with his back to me, according to his orders of the day. He always decided how we were to go about things. That was very much part of our games. I would always do his bidding. My personal favourite, which he was very aware of, was supporting the sides of his rump while he worked his way onto me, very gradually, and with minimal discomfort for either of us. It might take five minutes but the time spent was well worth it because I could reach around his middle with both hands and tickle him. The tickling slowly became something else. He would generally lose his erection as he wormed his way down as I provided a bit of upwards pressure into him. I always loved that gradual process of restoration. Gradually his erection would return, flicking this way and that as it came upwards in that delightful gentle curve towards his tummy. I'm sure that his shape and form, the relative shortness of it, made the difference when matters were the other way around. One night he was hitting the spot beautifully, and not completely inserted. I didn't come in the usual way, but white semen poured out of my flaccid penis in one continuous stream. I had no idea what had happened, but it surely had. I did eventually come about ten minutes later, with him frantically shagging me, but I was almost dry. He said when he felt his cock being gripped by my orgasm, the pulsing contractions, he came instantly, collapsing onto me. I think if I had never buggered him like I did, I would have missed out on one of life's great pleasures. Meanwhile, I'm standing here in front of Roger. I think this is it Jon, he wants me.

'You look a bit nervous Jon. Have you any idea why we're here?'

'Yes I do know Sir.' I say, open mouthed.

'Good. Are you alright with it?'

'Yes Sir, perfectly.'

It's a very warm day, luckily. He undresses me, looks and feels. He took his shirt off first, then undid his shorts at the top. I could see the top of his pants. They looked like the ones boys wear. A sort of cream colour. Nice. I found the top of the metal fastener device and lowered it. I can tell he's circumcised by the obvious large bulge pushing out the thin fabric. I let out a long breath. I very gently stroked the back of the rounded bulbous head through the silky cotton fabric with the backs of my fingers. I heard him breath in heavily with some pleasure, and then exhale. I'm sure he's relieved that I willing to play. His shorts fell down to reveal the rest of it. I can see immediately that this is going to be something quite new.

He kissed me once, lightly, and then I kissed him back, his penis hard into my tummy, mine not touching his. I do not measure up to him in any way. I felt his penis very gently and then gripped it hard, squeezing him. I felt the tip of it. It was slimy and wet all around the coronal ridge. I gripped his balls. They felt hard and very large. I felt the tip of his penis again. More wet. This is good. This is very good. He took my hand and led me to the edge of the bed. He sat down and gestured for me to kneel between his legs. I knew what he would like me to do. Ok, I will.

I gave him the tongue treatment exactly like Lael had taught me, but there's no way I'm going to get all that in my mouth. Best not to even attempt it. After a couple of minutes he took my head in his hands and stopped me. I looked up, rather disappointed. I thought I was doing well enough.

'Is that no good Roger?'

'Perfect young man. In fact, far too good.'

We did it in the chair, with my back against his chest, legs wide apart either side of his. Initially it wasn't an easy ride by any means, but after a good five minutes my bottom came to rest on his thighs. I was still flaccid and worried he would be disappointed with me. I had never felt so full of someone as I did then. Then he began to work whilst playing with me at the front, fondling my limp penis and playing with my balls. It must have been twenty minutes, on and off, then on again he goes, then a pause, and then more gentle thrusts as my penis flops this way and that.

I can feel a sort of floating sensation, the whole of my body seems to be floating in a tingling kind of calm. I can't feel much now, just this swimming in darkness sensation, like I'm starting to fly upwards. Then it starts in my tummy, then in the tops of my legs, and even in my finger tips. I'm gripping Roger's thighs and bouncing on him. I know I'm doing as much to him now as he is to me.

Lael tried to teach me how to use my bottom properly to encourage a partner. I never really got the hang of it, but I'm certainly trying right now, gyrating my hips and tensing the muscles in my bottom. I hope it's working because I can see a limit to my endurance here.

He's playing with again now, tickling and rubbing. I know I can't stop him, even though I want to now. It's all gone too far. I'm scared about what's going on inside me.

And then he stops as I lie back, hard on him, my head to the side of his face. He's breathing hard too and I can feel the sweat on our skin. Slippery. Breathing slows as his arms enclose me.

'You came Jon.'

'Did I?'

'Oh yes. Didn't you realise?'


'I think you were far, far away Jon. Anyway you have. I watched you. It was very beautiful.'

I felt my tummy with my fingers. Roger gathered some up to. A nice pool. Several in fact. Warm to the touch.

'Don't boys lick their fingers afterwards Jon? That's not unusual surely?'

Lael always did this for himself and for me. He said it was a good to get used to receiving sperm in your mouth and come to enjoy it. I was embarrassed to do it in front of Roger.

'Here. It's yours.' He says offering his three finger tips.

I took his hand in mine.

'Where's yours?'

'Where I want to keep it for a while, safely warm and tucked up.'

Roger wanted to stay inside me for a long time after he'd come. He wanted to keep his sperm in me for as long as possible. It was a lovely way of relaxing, intimately connected like that, all sealed inside me.

'Blanket over us?'

'Yes please. Can we talk now? You said you wanted to get a few things off your chest. About the past?'

'Yes I'd like to do that, but right now you're on my chest. I think that's all best said in bed Jon. Is that ok with you? There's quite a lot to tell.'

We lay in the bed in knew well. It didn't feel any different as I played with Roger's ample bits. I've never handled anything of this kind of mass or weight before, that's for sure. No wonder a boy's slim pointer can slip in and out of another boy's elastic bottom with such ease. A little bit of saliva and in you come, sunshine. What took Roger a long time to get in, takes little time to extract, now half the size it plops out, like a big bendy Cumberland sausage, shining with his seed.

I'm feeling good right now, like I've done something right. I'm feeling tired too. I'd like to lie down with Roger, nice and warm under a blanket, shut my eyes, play with his bits for hours, and listen to the story he has promised to tell me. I'm queer and loving it.

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