Omnia Vincit Amor
by Rafael Henry
Chapter 1
The Beginning
I can imagine his interview, this blond haired and to some, rather cute, prospective member of staff aged seventeen, not at all well-qualified with two and a half very moderate passes at A Level, and a premature leaver from his private secondary boarding school under a cloud, a rather dark one too, at his interview with this proprietor of a very minor prep school of ninety six boys, hidden in the middle of the countryside somewhere in the south west of England, and well away from prying eyes, set in ample grounds. It actually went like this…….
'And Michael, if I may, do you think you will enjoy teaching the young?'
'Err, well I haven't actually started yet, but I imagine I will……yes……Sir……when I've qualified. Eventually. Things haven't started too well for me I'm afraid.'
'I wouldn't worry too much about that little detail. And I'm sorry to hear your school career was…..how can I put this……..unfortunately truncated like it was. It's so easily done, thos e things. A momentary lapse is all it takes . Still, with a year in this place under your belt, it will serve you well when you enter higher education. I think it's a matter of getting you a taste for the job. See if you like it?'
The momentary lapse? Easily done? A little slip in the night, or to be more precise, a hand slipped into a slip, a momentary loss of judgement and then a horrible consequence. Michael made an assumption that he should not have made, not in a month of Sundays. He completely mis-judged the boy.
'And which sex do you prefer..….if I may put it that way…….when it comes to teaching ?' asks the Proprietor. Michael was miles away for a moment, the image of that boy , the one in question, his nemesis, flooding back in a golden light.
'Sorry, did you ask which sex I prefer?'
' Not quite Michael. To teach. I meant, would you prefer teaching boys rather than girls?'
'Oh, that's a tricky question, but……….boys I think, as this is a boys' school. I'm used to boys so I might….'
'Good. And do you find this age group interesting?'
'Yes Sir…….I do. It's eight to thirteen I believe.'
Michael thought he'd do better in this situation by offering the answers the man would prefer to hear. Anyway, he did prefer boys that age; as it happens, and the nearer to thirteen the better.
'Quite correct Michael. And if you had charge of one particular age group, which would that be?'
'Oh, another tricky one Sir. Perhaps…….eleven……or twelve year-olds…….Sir? They can do so much more when they get to that age.'
The Head Man nods his approval.
'Indeed they can Michael. Much more. Good choice, and a popular age group. I should say that all our staff here much prefer to be in the company of the male sex, so boys are very much more their thing . What do you think about that Michael? Do you think you might get on well with young men that prefer other young men?' He says, obviously joking?
That's a very odd comment isn't it? And so early on in Michael's important little encounter. Is this guy telling him that all his staff are queer……..or something else . Anyway, Michael needs to give the impression that he can fit in here, so…….
'Well, yes. That seems very reasonable. I think I could fit in quite well.'
'Excellent. Some of our boys, particularly the older ones…….the eleven to thirteen-year-olds especially, often have very individual needs. We adhere, rather, to the Greek model……..literally as you can see over there. Life here is very similar to life in Sparta I like to think. We encourage the boys to do their physical jerks naked, so much healthier, and swimming of course, unless they wish to be clothed. That's their choice. Our boys enjoy freedom Michael, in everything they do. We think that nudity is to admired and encouraged. To be healthy is to be efficient. The boys are proud of their bodies and like them to be seen as they develop. All the body functions are explained and discussed as needed. Importantly, there are no mysteries concerning sexual health here, quite the reverse.'
He points to the quarter life-sized statuette of a boy, naked, and complete with a classical sized penis. You might wonder who sculpted it? Who was the model for it? One of the boys here? The interview proceeds……
'So, how do you think you might contribute to the boys' physical and emotional development Michael, in addition to their academic progress, or in your case, their artistic flowering?'
'I suppose it would depend on the exact nature of their needs Sir. I would certainly try, once I know how they tick……if you see what I mean Sir? Is that a genuine antiquity Sir?' Michael asks, intrigued and gesturing at the figure of the boy.
'No, it was made right here in our excellent Art Department, into which you will be assimilated, and along the traditional Greek principles of sculpture, hence the rather under developed genitals the boy exhibits. Do you like it?'
'Yes I do Sir. It's perfectly life-like.'
'Indeed so, apart from that one detail.'
'One detail Sir?'
He's referring to the under-sized penis. Large penises were not the thing to have been born with, for a good reason. Boys with large cumbersome penises were considered basic and unrefined.
'So, your answer to my last question is interesting. Of course you will have your own needs Michael. It works both ways you see. The boys know that they have a contribution to make too. They have an obligation towards their mentors. One has to exercise great care Michael, but it's entirely possible, we have found, that nurturing a boy who shows an inclination…….a desire to forge a special relationship with one or even two of the masters can be of great benefit to him. A boy's relationship to his teacher is crucial, we believe. There are very few boundaries here Michael……no doors are closed to the masters and their boys…….or between one master and another…….or one boy and another. We are socially, and in other ways, very progressive…….liberal you might say, and with great emphasis on the boys' physical and emotional development. The boys are encouraged to forge close relationships with anyone they choose, regardless of their age. They are free to wear clothes or not, and out of school hours, any kind of clothing they want. The boys are monitored closely by their Supervisor for their general health and diet, their sexual health and well-being, and for their personal cleanliness. A clean, suitably nourished and well-exercised boy will be healthy, virile, and enthused, excited even, with his body and mind. We are all about training, guidance and discipline. The boys expect very regular inspections. How do you feel now Michael?'
'Very encouraged Sir. Quite excited actually.'
'Excellent young man!'
Michael wanted to mention relationships, but didn't. Does the school recognize the existence of emerging sexual feelings that a boy may have for another? Michael thinks, trying hard to be an advanced thinker. But there's more…….
'All the rooms are quite small and private. We recognize, understand and accept that there will inevitably be contact between boys, usually of different ages. It's their right, and we shall not deny them, but at an appropriate time and place. Playfulness, shall we say, is not tolerated in front of other boys. Most of the younger boys are unaware and should remain so until they are ready to explore their feelings and manifest them physically. Boys are encouraged to be very open about their friendships and to discuss them with their Supervisor. We actively encourage each boy, our erastes, to find his eromenos. He will help them with any difficulties they may encounter. Playful activity between the boys is strictly controlled. That's why we need to know about it. We can't have boys fiddling with one another just anywhere, as much as they would like to no doubt. We do move boys from room to room to facilitate relationships. Every boy sleeps in his own bed and naked of course. We do check.'
'Check……..Sir?'
'Yes indeed. Each Supervisor will tour the beds to make sure there are not two occupants.'
'Oh that's very efficient Sir. You mention difficulties of a sexual nature Sir?'
'There may be practical difficulties, a lack of information possibly. The boys concerned may not know how to go about things, or how far that is acceptable, or just how to gain more pleasure and excitement. The boys accept that their Supervisor may need to be involved in their safe, secure, and informed healthy sexual development.'
Bloody hell! What a job Michael has in prospect, albeit virtually unpaid. A bargain arrangement for our Proprietor. My advice, freely available for Michael, is that he should go for it, and as hard as he can, all guns blazing.
There's a silence to allow Michael to absorb the quantity of information he has just received. Then Sir, leaning back benignly, brings matters to a close, for now.
'Good. At this stage I think it would interesting for you to see some of our boys in their various activities. Would you like to see them doing what they do, in the raw, so to speak?'
'Yes, that sounds very interesting Sir. I would like to.'
'Good. I'll organize one of our older and more engaging pupils to show you the ropes. Do feel free to ask him anything you like. The School knows you are here and will treat you quite normally. I'd like you to get a very personal view of this very special place. Nothing shall be hidden from your view. Felix will give you a no-holds-barred insight I'm sure. He is one of our most promising and accomplished boys.'
Sir is on the internal 'phone system, and a couple of minutes later, the boy appears. Sir has selected him as Michael's guide for his outgoing personality, intelligence, and sheer beauty…….a fine example of boyhood indeed, slightly tanned as you would expect from his outdoor life and from all the healthy pursuits the boys indulge in, or are made to indulge in. He's neatly dressed in the attractively informal 'uniform' the boys wear, tailored grey cotton shorts cut unfashionably very high above the knee, 'fitted' in the groin area, grey ankle socks, pale blue polo shirt, navy jumper with pale blue 'V' neck stripe, and traditional Clark's real leather sandals, of course . What else?
The boy stands perfectly straight, about five feet tall, with one leg very slightly forward of the other, hands held behind his back, head held high. He's undoubtedly been taught how to stand properly when presenting himself to a visitor, without standing to attention. It's a matter of deportment. He knows that he's being closely observed and he's enjoying it. When he looks straight at Michael, there's just a faint trace of a smile on his oval and aristocratic face. Michael's eyes travel from head to toe, back again several times whilst Sir watches for Michael's reaction. Sir, pleased with what he's seen thus far, notes how Michael's eyes lingered midway twixt head and toe, and introduces the boy……
'Michael, meet Felix. He will show you all there is to see here, or at least most of it. Felix, be sure to take Mr Warrior anywhere he pleases, no stone unturned. Tell him about your life here. We don't want him getting any surprises do we, if and when he arrives.'
Felix's olive complexion topped by his deep brown neatly trimmed hair, make him something that Michael would look twice at anywhere. Felix, nicely spoken, and twelve and a bit years on this planet, speaks as he looks, slightly clipped with words perfectly enunciated. Michael will no doubt find him a very forthcoming lad who will be all too willing to describe in detail the day-to-day routines set out for the boys, and where they work, play, eat and sleep. Sir opens his study door and Felix leads the way out. Just outside the now closed study door……
'Good morning Sir.' Says Felix by way of a welcome, looking up at Michael who could barely take his eyes off the boy. Oh, those coal dark eyes! See how he turns, and bends to pull up one sock. The cut of those shorts, and that other layer that lies below, caressing and protecting. Oh divine child!
'Good morning Felix.' Michael replies, and by now, dry mouthed.
'I want to show you everything. Will that be alright Sir?' The boy says in a slightly low pitched slightly husky tone, still thankfully prepubescent.
'Great. I would like to see everything.' Responds Michael, as he sees Felix's tongue protrude very slightly between his lips. What was that for?
The smiling Felix leads the way, turning every so often to satisfy himself that Michael is still with him, and paying due attention. Felix is like that……..very particular.
The pair move seamlessly across a courtyard within the lovely old deep red brick edifice, in places up to the first-floor windows, clad in deep green ivy. How lovely the whole place looks. Through the door and up a couple of flights of stairs, uncarpeted. Along the hall, they stop at an open door.
'This is one of the sleeping rooms Sir.'
'Yours?'
'No. Not this one, but I will show you mine. Would you like to see it?'
'Oh yes, I think I would. Is it nice?'
' I think so.'
'Oh, right. So that's good then?'
'Umm.'
Naïve Michael didn't quite get it…….until a few minutes later when he thought back to that moment, as his face flushed a warm pink. Felix is a boy in a boy's world. Frendon.
'The beds are very close together don't you think?' observes Michael.
'Yes they are Sir, but we like it like that. It makes communicating much easier Sir. Next door are the baths and showers. Would you like to see?'
'What do you mean, communicating?'
'It's what we call it Sir. So you can talk quietly after lights out or…….anything.'
'Anything?'
'Yes Sir. Anything.'
Michael thought he knew what that meant. It means him first, and then it will be my turn. It's a good system that's worked for centuries, ever since boys slept in dormitories.
Sometimes boys did it in lessons, quite openly, as others watched, as the master droned on completely unaware that one of his pupils was about to reach his climax. Or perhaps the master did know what the boy was up to at the back of the class?
'Everything alright back there Jones?' The man in the black academic gown enquires with a faint smile.
'Fine thank you Sir.' Jones replies with a smile.
It was a nice one, quite wet too, and all the better for having an appreciative audience.
Michael looks through the open door and sees what you might expect to see…….a row of three lavatories with partitions between them a good foot from the floor and nowhere near the ceiling, but no doors, and a row of wash basins with a long mirror above the whole length of the wall. At the far end of the room was a single large un-enclosed shower head. It all smelled fresh and clean, and not at all like what he had endured when in a similar situation as a twelve-year-old away from home for the first time, learning to forget he had parents. The pair move further along the corridor……..
'So who is in that room?' Michael asks as they pass another door, again, ajar.
'That H Sir. He's my Super. Supervisor to you Sir. H for Henry. He makes sure that we do everything right…….you know, wash ourselves properly and all that. He gets us up in the morning and puts us to bed at night. He does our inspections and our health charts.'
'So what are they….health charts?'
'How much we've grown, how much we weigh and other things like…….'
'Like what?'
'Oh, making sure we have no developmental issues. That sort of thing. He answers all our questions about everything, growing up things…..what happens to boys as they grow up. Puberty things. He's really good. We can talk to him at any time in his study, sometimes after bed time. Sometimes we have awkward worries.'
'Have you had any of those?'
'Yes Sir, from time to time.'
'Can you tell me about those……..one example perhaps?'
'I wasn't sure if I should let another boy be friends with me.'
'Why shouldn't you?'
'When I was quite new, he was older than me. He liked me a lot.'
'And did you like him?'
'Yes Sir. I was a Vee and didn't quite understand things.'
'A Vee?'
'Yes. They are the first and second form boys. Vestals. Nine and ten-year-olds. They're like little princesses here. They get special privileges and everything they want, just about. But they can't be friends with anyone older, like a Cub or a Prince. We'll probably see one around the place.
'What's a Cub?'
'A third and fourth former. Eleven and twelve. They're allowed to snog and stuff. Vestals can't do anything apart from hang around the place and look pretty driving us Princes nuts. They have a lot of power, that lot. They're always showing off their weeny peens, grinning at you. Showing their bottoms. That kind of thing. It's totally unfair.'
'So how do get to be Prince then?'
'Purely a matter of age. Can I call you Michael…….Sir?'
'Of course…….Felix.'
'Some of us are Sub-Princes. Still pre-pubes really.'
'And you're not one of them?'
'No. I'm a fully-fledged Prince. A Virile, sometimes known by the others as a Fertile, for obvious reasons. We're allowed to snog and suck, but only with Cubs and Elders. Some of us, not all by any means, are capable , Mike.'
'How capable?'
'Pretty decently capable I'd say.'
'Speaking for yourself here, are we?'
'Yes. Have you got a pound on you? I'm a bit skint these days. I'm more than happy to show you for a quid?'
'Possibly, a bit later if that's ok?'
'Absolutely fine Mike. We'd need to do it in one of the lavs.'
'Right, I'll bear that in mind Felix.' Says Mike, wide eyed, and thinking this might be just the place for him. Mike, of course, assumes Felix is just jesting. He'd be wrong. Felix never jokes about sex.
The tour continues. The two of them wend their way across a neat square of emerald green grass over to the Gym Block that also houses an indoor swimming pool.
'You're in luck this morning Mike. Swimming Groups. Tuesdays is the Vees' day. I'll take you down there now.'
There were about twelve Vees [Vestals, all the boys aged between ten and eleven] lined up against the wall, waiting, in their natural state, obviously. Felix takes Mike in, as all the boys stand waiting, all as smooth as eggs, unsmiling and curious as to who this new person might be.
Most of the boys look away as they lean against the wall, apart from one. A tousled fair-haired little tyke. A charming little piece of work indeed, perfectly crafted by nature with all the right bits in the right places, and in perfect working order by the looks of things. From Mikes memory, there's usually one.
'Do you know him Felix? That one just over there?' He wispers.
'Oh yes. His name is Oscar. One of the naughty ones. My guess is that he can't wait to become a Cub and start snogging everyone in sight.'
'Including you?'
'Umm. He's pretty isn't he? Unless of course you don't…….'
'Oh I wouldn't say that Felix.'
'Good. If you do come; I mean, get the job, do you think he'd make you a Super?'
'He might.'
'Would you want to be?'
'I'd give it a go.'
The twelve boys continue to wait patiently, a couple absentmindedly fiddling with overhanging foreskins, pulling the loose skin forwards alarmingly, and another watching them fiddle, his penis definitely not completely flaccid, arching in an enticingly forwards direction. A rather lovely sight. Then a voice from the door issues the command and they file away silently, feet through the footbath first, pure white bottoms wiggling, towards the heated indoor pool, and essential exercise. Moments later, another dozen boys file in apre-swim to take their place, shining wet, slippery bodies. They hardly notice Mike and Felix, anyway it's not their place to wonder, but accept, as they disappear through a gap in the wall to be showered with cold water. They re-appear, one by one to re-gather before their drying run, several laps of the grassy quadrangle before arriving back where they started, and down into a basement changing room to dress. Towels harbour germs.
As they leave, Michael Warrior hears a low wolf-whistle, and when he looks around to hopefully see the source of such an unexpected response, he sees all the boys' eyes following him, and one boy in particular, smiling.
'Shall we look in the Gymnasium now Mike? By the sound of those pipy voices there might be some Cubs in there.'
Gosh, yes please. Another dozen of the little beauties, almost naked as nature fully intended them to be, bless their cotton knicks. They're all in their white pants, some doing floor exercises, one climbing a rope, another two on the wall bars, a line of four more vaulting the 'horse', under supervision of a track suited Supervisor. They all look rather hot and bothered.
'Seen enough? Asks Felix, smiling.
'I think so.' Says Mike, open mouthed at this spectacle. Two boys are sitting close to their feet, facing them, cross legged on the floor, knees wide apart, with BMI's clearly well within the permitted range, their eyes fixed on him. Michael barely hears what Felix says next……
'I need to go somewhere Mike. Do you want to stay here, or come with me? I'll be back in ten minutes. I couldn't go this morning.'
'Go where?' He replies. He hadn't been listening.
'I've got a sub coming. I need the loo, in your language.'
'Oh.'
'You can come too. Then I won't lose you. You can get very distracted around here. Could be nasty. These Cubs don't take any prisoners. They'd have you for lunch and dinner if I wasn't with you. You'd better come with me. Then you can experience the dungeons.'
Felix is referring to the lavatory and wash basin arrangements for Felix's sleeping area, known as the Cubes, partitioned areas for two single beds.
'You don't mind do you? You may as well get to see all the gory stuff. You don't want any nasty surprises when you get here do you?'
'Er, no I suppose not.' Michael says, wondering what he's let himself in for. Little does he know……yet.
'Good. Come on then. Would you like me to hold your hand? Actually I'd quite like to. No one will see us. Would you mind terribly if I did?'
Michael is chuffed at this gesture from Felix. Rather sweet he thought, and the boy's hand felt beautifully soft and warm, a real comfort, as he looked around to make sure no one was looking. It was years since anyone had taken his hand like his mummy insisted she did. No, this does feel good. Really good. Then he felt he had to let it go. Good grief, he was here on interview, not a romantic stroll with a boyfriend on a deserted beach. There was something else going on though, not just in his head, but with his body. It was the feel of the boy's hand in his. That look on the boy's face when he asked him. So sweet. And now he has agreed to accompany the boy to the lavatory. The thing is, he wants to go with him now. Felix is up to his old tricks here. When he was a Vestal, he once seduced a Fertile, very successfully as it happened, and it did happen for both of them, a case of wet and dry, but sex is sex isn't it? Something not be spurned when offered. I should say not!
There are four sit-down loos in the Dungeon, each one with a partition between for privacy, the partition being roughly four feet high, and a good foot off the wall, so the person next door can't see your head as you huff and puff towards a satisfying conclusion, as Felix is doing right now. There's no door so Michael is obliged to see and hear all. All this is of course familiar to us all, and when all is done for Felix, after several grunts of satisfaction, he stands not quite straight, toilet tissue in hand, and hands it to Michael.
'You're not asking me to do that are you Felix?'
'Would you? I'd like that.'
He's changed a baby's nappy before so why should this be any different. No one minds their own, but someone else's? Really?
Felix turns round, his hands now on the loo seat. In a few moments it will be all over for warm-faced, hot faced even, Michael Warrior.
So there it is and nothing unpleasant in view, just two beautifully formed buttocks held apart for Michael's attention, right apart. It's a perfectly natural sight, this one, just another part of the human body. Doctors look at them all the time. So Michael does the business for Felix, thoroughly. He looks at the back of the boy's thighs. What a pretty line that is where the buttocks join the thighs. The gluteal crease. And the anus itself, as the flesh gently turns inwards and darkens. Not so bad really? With the toilet tissue gone the way of all toilet tissue, he touches the boy, just lightly, with the tip of one finger, right there . That was naughty Michael.
'Wasn't so bad was it Mike?' Asks Felix, turning around and smiling, recognizing the significance of that illicit contact , albeit momentary.
'You'll make the perfect Supervisor. You would, really. Now the next bit Mike. You may as well learn all the ropes.'
With his knicks, as they call them here, and shorts around his ankles, Felix dispenses a small amount of the moisturizer onto his middle finger, from the container on the shelf above the wash basin. Looking into the mirror, he pushes out his bottom, reaches around, and takes aim at his anal region, misses a tiny bit, but on the next forage north, he's bang on, and around and in it goes, the thick white solution, and not just around that sensitive area full of nerve endings, but through the security sphincter and a little distance beyond. He decides a little more is needed to clean the area completely, then withdraws his finger and rinses it most efficiently under the tap, with soap from the dispenser, a very slightly discoloured residue disappearing. A drying wipe with a tissue from the box and he's done once again, this being a routine every boy practices, every time, post BM. It's the rule. A very major rule in this place. Michael looks on, impressed.
'Gosh, that's terrific Felix. Feel better?'
'One hundred percent Mike. I wouldn't miss it. Do you?'
'No, but I'm sure I will from now on. I've never thought of it. Lovely flat tummy by the way.'
'Thank you. Not much choice in this place. They keep us fit.'
'Do your parents know you all have to go through that routine of bottom cleansing?'
'Oh yes. You see that dark grey bar of soap over there? If what we have to do doesn't work for some reason, we have to make good with that. That stuff works wonders. I think it has some fine grit in it, and a mild bleach so I understand. Fantastic stuff for eliminating stains. Artists use it for hand cleaning and so on. Farty uses it. Arty Farty.'
The boy pulls up his knicks and shorts, the uncircumcised head of his penis the last thing to disappear into what looks like a very fine white towelling kind of fabric, heavily seamed around the leg openings with most likely no uncomfortably indenting elastic within, to achieve, when shorts are on, the most noticeable visible panty line. Very fetching indeed. Extremely so! Felix looks at me, eyebrows raised.
'That must have felt nice Felix?' Mike suggests, eliciting nothing more than a smile.
'Would you like me to show you the Cubes now?'
'Not before you can explain those marks on your rear end?'
'Oh those . I had a choice a couple of days ago. An indiscretion I'm afraid. Either a hundred lines or a short sharp shock. I chose the latter. I really don't mind. It hurts for a couple of minutes but it saves an hour of mindless writing…….. and a few sheets of paper. Far better for the environment.'
'Pants down?'
'Is the Pope Catholic? Of course! It wouldn't be a proper English schoolboy beating without pants down would it?'
I suppose not, come to think of it.
'You have to accept any punishment meted out to you, and be thankful. Or try to be. And then say you 'thank you'. That's the form here Mike.'
Enduring a degree of pain at school was always part and parcel of life. Take the game of rugger for example? Nothing but pain……and cold……and wet……..and feeling for a boy's balls when you tackle them. And when you both fall the ground in a satisfying heap, both joined, you don't let go. I wonder if they ever realised that's what we were doing?
Along the corridor Michael turns towards a range of fitted cupboards set into the wall.
'What's that cupboard for?' Michael asks, pointing to a half open door.
'That's for all our clothes. Would you like to see? No stone unturned?' Felix says with a smile.
The small room smells nice, all things clean, ironed and tickety boo. There are several small piles. The willing, eager almost, boy points to a one pile and picks out one item and hands it to Michael.
'What do I do with these?' says Michael, thrilled to be handling the most intimate of boys' apparel. He stretches the waistband and looks, and thinks how well they would enhance the figure of any Vestal.
'Whatever you want. The school provides everything. We don't bring anything of our own. It's just different sizes of the same thing. Our Super tells us what size we are. We get given them each day from our size pile. I'm in the ten-year-olds to eleven-year-olds pile.' He explains.
'But you're twelve aren't you?'
'Yes, but he says I look best in these. So that's it. Same with the shorts. I feel restricted most of the time. You just don't argue. The Super always knows best.'
They move on down the corridor into another space; a row of cubicles about eight feet by eight. There are two beds in each one, with a narrow space in between, less than two feet, and a similar space as Mike remembers from his own school of recent experience.
'Oh, this is my litter. My CP sleeps next door; here.' He says, gently patting the bed.
'CP? Good grief. What's that?'
'You mean who is that. Don't worry, it's not that other thing. He's my Considerate Partner. Peter. We're in love…….sort of. Would you like to meet him? You'll like him; I hope. He'll be about after lunch when we have our Rest Time.'
'I would, if that's not too much of an inconvenience?'
'Not at all.'
Rest time
'Mike, this is Peter. Say hello Peter?'
'Hello Mike. How are you?'
'I'm very well, thank you Peter. You look well yourself.' Michael Warrior says to sweet little Peter, a very young-looking Cub, as he stands there in his shorts, hands held together in front of them. He has particularly lovely slim legs, albeit bony knees probably due to a recent growth spurt. His arms too, slim and lightly tanned like all the rest of the boys. Enough of the sun to look and be healthy, but not too much. A deep tan is considered very common and thoroughly crass. As for his face, well, Felix thinks he's rather beautiful, in common with all the Supervisors who know the difference between the ordinary and the special.
'Thank you.' Peter says, shooting a glance sideways at Felix, his face reddening perceptibly. Romance is quite new for Peter and just the thought, the mere suggestion of naughtiness with Felix makes him blush. But for him now, Felix is the best thing in the whole world. Felix makes him feel good about himself, wanted, needed in fact. Peter would like to give Felix anything he desires, and does.
'So what happens now Felix…….and Peter?'
'We rest on our beds until Afternoon School. We can read; or snooze if we want to, or………'
'Or what?'
'Peter is my CP Mike. Remember, I explained?'
'Of course you did. So…….'
'Oh yes. We might want to cuddle up on one bed. You could rest on the other one; if you want to?'
Again, is the Pope Catholic?'
'Wouldn't you or Peter find that a bit awkward. Someone else in your Cube; and so close?'
'Not in the slightest, would we Peter?'
Peter looks down, his face even redder now.
'No.' Peter says quietly, glancing up shyly at Mike. In fact there's nothing the boys would enjoy more than an audience.
'We have to undress Mike. It's the rule. Not completely, so you'll be alright to stay. We'd hate to embarrass you, wouldn't we Peter?'
Peter looks down, even redder now, his hands held against the front of his shorts. He's one of those ultra-responsive boys who become aroused by nothing much, and then the effects linger……and linger. The thought of another Rest Time always does it, awkwardly during lunch, as he plunges his fork into a rolled falafel on a bed of undressed salad. The thought of lying there next to Felix, and doing his friend's bidding.
Every day Felix feels the need to behave considerately towards his CP. That's only fair, and anyway, he feels a deep affection for Peter. And why wouldn't he? He's beautiful, and just that interestingly bit younger than he. That's nice isn't it? They applied for CP status last term and it was granted, so now they can share a Cube together, and all those consequential pleasures, like cuddling and the occasional snog. And more. How sweet.
Michael Warrior watches as the two boys help each other out of the clothes, except for those delicious looking knicks all the boys wear, all identical apart from the size, and all controlled by the boys' Supervisor. Ditto for the boys' grey cotton shorts, which leave little to the imagination, rather flat restricted pockets each side you could hardly get five fingers into, with elasticated waistbands for simple and convenient access. It all works so well, even in winter time, with the soft grey jumpers over the top. No blazers or ties, long trousers and hard black shoes in this place. No Sir. Everything so easy to slip into, and out of . So quick and easy.
Mike lay on his side, fully clothed of course, pretending not to watch the two lovebirds join together in their mutual appreciation of each other's human qualities. Hands around backs and then heads. Hands around white clad bottoms, finger tips under seams, mouths joined in prolonged snogs that eventually ended with backs of hands to wipe away the excess. Then the hands disappeared between the boys, and then both boys disappeared under the lightweight summer duvet, blue with white gulls flying about all over the place. Time to turn over Mike, and look the other way.
An hour later Michael Warrior awakes to find himself alone. He looks at his watch. One forty-five. He's scheduled to return to the Office to see the Principal at two thirty, and be informed of his decision. Felix's bed has been tidied, the pillow neatly arranged, and with a paper note laid upon it. There's also something on the floor beside the bed. He leans down to touch it.
Written in pencil, the note ran……..
It's outdoor swimming this afternoon Mike. Ask someone where the pool is. I'll be there. FX.
FX? What's the X for? Love Felix? An odd thing to put at the end of the note to someone you've just met. Just good manners I suppose. A friendly way to sign off, or a slip of the pen? Or none of the above.
Mike knew the way out of the building, the same way Felix had led him into it. He immediately met a boy coming round the corner of the dark brick edifice, almost bumping into him.
'Excuse me.' Mike says urgently. The boy stops in his tracks. He has to be a first year, a Vestal, and looks like one. The boy looks up at Mike, with a smile, expecting a question.
'You don't happen to know where the outdoor pool is do you?'
Of course he does know, and escorts Mike there. There's no fence around the pool and there's plenty of noise coming from it.
'Thank you. Do you have a name?'
'Yes Sir. It's Edward Hymnal Sir.' Something that amused Michael Warrior, the boy's surname. The good old New English Hymnal. Something Mike knew all about, once. And, Easy Anthems for Choirs too. And all the rest of it. All the mumbo jumbo. Oh Lord open thou our lips. And our mouths shall show forth our praise.
Mike puts out a hand, he knew not quite why, to shake the boy's hand by way of thanking him for going the extra mile with him. The boy duly offers his own hand out and the two hands meet. The boy's hand feels soft and warm. The boy smiles as if he's just received a compliment. That's what the boys learn to do here; to go the extra mile for a friend, or anyone. Edward Hymnal indeed. How funny.
Michael Warrior watches the Vestal Virgin walk away from him, and admires what he sees. They can't all be like that, surely? That pretty.
The answer to that question is that most of them are.
There are around a dozen boys in the pool, doing what boys do in that environment, so no description needed. None of them possess swimming kit so that's a given too. It's clearly an all-age session just for fun and games, with one adult sitting on the edge in the far corner, obviously supervising the group of lively youngsters chasing, being chased, caught and dunked, splashing one another, or merely chatting in a less choppy part of the pool. The afternoon sun is out and the scene is lit in a glorious ochre light reflecting off the wet bodies. Felix is in the middle of all this, with Peter. The man in the corner notices Mike and smiles. He knows who he is. He's here for the job. The job his friend has just left vacant. There was a notice put up yesterday about the interview today. The candidate's name; Michael Warrior. The man speaks to a boy who is sitting with him, like he's been told to, or perhaps just wants to sit next to him. The boy walks towards Mike who is not sure what to do next.
'Do you want to come in the pool?'
'Thanks, but I can't. I have to see someone in a few minutes.'
'Will you come over and speak to Mr Raphael please?'
Michael walks around the pool passing two boys on the grassy surround lying on their tummies facing each other. He glances down at the two white bottoms, and then away quickly. He breaths in deeply.
'Hello there. Mr Warrior I presume?'
'Yes.'
'Raphael. How have you got on today?'
'Pretty well; I think.'
'Excellent. Time for a paddle then?'
'I can't I'm afraid. I have to see Mr Sewell in a few minutes.'
'You don't need to. Felix has seen him. It's just me you need to deal with. In the mainstream, which we are definitely not, I'm the equivalent of a Deputy Head. We have all we need now. After this bit of jollity, we'll have a talk. Ok? So now you are free to do whatever. The boys have noticed you by the way. I'm minded to think they approve of you.'
Poor old Michael doesn't have much choice in this matter. Raphael recognized Mike's probable embarrassment in this situation. He can't get in the pool dressed, obviously. In his pants…….maybe? No. He's going to have to get naked like the rest of them.
'Just do it , as they say Michael. The boys won't even look at you. They won't notice.'
Bollocks. They did look at Michael, as they would do. Of course they would look. All boys' eyes go straight to the heart of the matter when it comes to male nudity. They want to know, so when it comes to the underpants off moment, Michael turned away from the twelve set of curious eyes. They are all looking, as the pool became eerily quiet. There's nothing else for it but to turn and face the music, and bare all. There's nothing remarkable about Michael Warrior's all , but the boys need to know. Big cock? Little cock? Just let us see it . After all we don't get too many handsome devils like him to look at, just another annual intake of teeny widdlers littering up the place.
Silence, as Michael makes his way to the edge of the pool, and stands poised, to Raphael's side, his toes curled over the curved edging lip of the pool. The boys move aside to leave two or three yards of unoccupied water, now almost a flat calm.
Mike is a good swimmer. His entry is clean and tidy, his freestyle stroke economic and stylish as eight strokes take him to the far end, a tumble turn sets him in the opposite direction before two hands arrive close to the admiring Raphael. The head is out of the water, and after a shake of blond hair sending droplets of water everywhere, he turns to see the smiling boys. They keep looking, before finally resuming their playfulness, no doubt impressed with what Michael Warrior has shown them. They ought to be.
Mike didn't use the steps to get out of the pool, but hauled himself out the big boy way, and sat himself down next to Raphael.
'They liked that Mike! Very impressive I must say. Felix is over there with Peter. Why don't you go and see him. You could give him a thank you.'
'Why?'
'He gave you a glowing report. We're quite democratic in this place. We like to know what the boys think. It might not alter decisions, but it's good to know what they think too. You'll get a contract and all the other guff in about three days.'
'Does that mean………..?'
'It certainly does . Now go and say your thank you's to that clever little Prince over there.'
Mike slips back into the pool, and with seemingly no effort at all, he glides towards the four boys gathered together in the middle of the pool. The group parts to allow him access to a smiling Felix, his hair all flattened and shiny-smooth by recent submersion, drips coming off his chin. The group re-forms around Mike, our handsome youth.
In less than half a minute Michael emerges, none the worse for his ordeal. He had felt hands on his body, and one dangerously close to his untouchables. It wasn't Felix's hand. He was sure of that. It might have been anyone's. He's felt a hand brush against his bottom too, accidentally.
This time, Mike uses the steps to leave the pool, the little anxious virgin sitting next to Raphael, watching carefully, now looking less anxious as Raphael's hand smooths his shoulder. He likes that, inclining his head towards His Master's body.
'Get Felix to show you my rooms Mike. We can talk our way through everything; how this place works for the boys; and now for you, hopefully, should you decide you want to work here? When I've explained everything?'
Mike stayed with the dozen boys, and Raphael, while they all dressed after their frolics in the pool, Felix keeping a weather eye on Michael. The boys filtered away according to their dressing speed, most in a group with Raphael, all gathered around him chattering happily. They seem very much at home, their nudity coming very naturally to them. I mean, who actually cares about the slight differences there are to be seen in human bodies? Why would you?
And then, up in Raphael's study
'So what kind of impression have we made on you Michael?' Asks Raphael, leaning back in his black leather swivel chair behind a medium sized kneehole desk.
'I can't say it hasn't been interesting. It's certainly not quite what I was expecting, but is a very attractive proposition.'
'Why?'
'Err…….well, that's hard to quantify; precisely.'
Raphael laughs.
'That's the sort of answer I would have given Mike. I take it you have no objection to all the nudity stuff; and the kind of clothing the boys have to wear?'
'Not at all.'
'And the various personal routines the boys have to perform for themselves? I assume Felix went over all that?'
'Yes he did, very thoroughly in fact. It all makes perfect sense.'
'The inspections? Not too intrusive? You will have to do those, assuming you feel you can take on the role of a Supervisor…….after a probationary period?'
'I'm not sure what they are Sir.'
'Six boys Michael. Every night before bedtime. So that's two boys in each Cube, making six for you to look after. And all their bedtime routines too. Cast your eyes over this sheet. It's all there.'
Michael looks down the check list, swallows a couple of times and hands the printed sheet of A4 paper back.
'You are the boys' surrogate mummy. A proxy parent. You will do the kind of things they would do. I accept that there are some intimate tasks involved, but the boys will expect it from you. Each boy will have different needs and the occasional concerns about something. It's quite normal for them, and our curriculum and all our routines and requirements have been passed as appropriate and reasonable by all the parents and guardians, so don't worry on that score. Happy with that?'
'Yes, very happy Sir. I'm quite certain I can manage all those things.'
'Excellent. Might we expect your answer very shortly after you receive your offer?'
Yes, within a couple of days, Michael assures him.
'One other thing Michael. The boys traditionally learn to use a unique vocabulary here that might sound odd to some, alarming even, to a newcomer. It's never been written down formally for reasons that are obvious when you read my own compilation I've prepared here.'
He hands Michael another sheet, the text, a veritable dictionary, running over one page onto the reverse.
Michael Warrior looks at the long list, his tummy fluttering wildly.
TWIG To twig something. To understand it.
TWIG a young boy's infantile penis, erect. As in, 'Did you see that boy's twig just then?'
CP A Considerate Partner. For example, A Virile coupled with a Fertile, or two Fertiles, or a Fertile with a Cub, the most age-extreme permitted [Felix and Peter].
PC A private solo orgasm. As in, 'You look flushed Peter. Have you just had a PC?'
MC — A 'mutual' orgasm. As in 'I had a fantastic MC just now.' 'Oh who was it?'
BM Body mass index. Above a certain score, remedial action is required. Applies usually only to Vestals, the 'new' brethren.
A Frenchie — 1. A durex condom 2. A kiss involving tongues.
A Porker, or Piggy — A boy whose BMI is above what is tolerated, a term only used by staff members, not the boys.
A Milk Maid — A boy, by mutual agreement, who is allowed to 'milk' a Virile or a Fertile.
A Downunder — An anal grope.
A Princess — Slang for an attractive nine or ten-year-old boy.
A Prince. An older boy, who might also be tested and found to be fertile.
A Maiden — A shy Princess, often with an unusually small penis.
A Pretty Maid — As above, but with a normal sized penis.
A Wank — Usually a private process of achieving a solo orgasm. Strictly forbidden amongst the younger boys.
A Wanker — A less popular Supervisor.
A Check — One of the regular physical inspections all boys undergo.
Indecent — Something deemed to be unfair.
Child Pornography — Unknown and non-existent in this environment. Considered abhorrent.
Kinders. A term covering all learners in this environment.
A Rub Up — Providing an orgasm for a friend, as in 'Do you need a rub up?'.
A SID — Self-abuse resulting in a discharge of semen.
An AID. Nappy pants used to discourage or prevent self-abuse after lights out. Easy to undo, and then re-attach the tapes afterwards.
A Slasher — A bed wetter. Rare.
A Super — A well-endowed boy. And short for a Supervisor.
A King — Seen to be an ejaculator of unusually large volume.
A Spoonful — Approaching 5 ml of semen collected in a plastic medicine spoon. As in, 'how much does he get?' Almost an unheard of quantity, but there are apocryphal stories about certain members of staff.
Stuff. Semen, immature or otherwise.
BH — Anus.
A Trunch — An erect penis.
A Dome — A circumcised boy.
A Skinny — An 'intact' boy.
A Short Skinny — A boy with a short foreskin with protruding dome.
A Long Skinny — Self-explanatory. Plenty left over.
A Queer boy — A member of the school choir.
Pills, plums, eggs, berries, nuts [younger boys]. Testicles of any proportion.
Twig and berries — Immature sexual parts.
An Itch — An urgent desire to masturbate
A Bonger — An erection, spontaneous, or other.
A Length — As above. As in, 'I could give him a length.'
The Creeps — Anal itching. A 'Reportable Symptom'.
A Do — A bowel movement [BM], as in 'I need a do.'
A Bad Do — A loose BM, probably indicating an upset tummy, or over-zealous sex.
A Wet — A nocturnal emission. As in 'Sir, I've had a wet', or 'I'm going to wet!' Considered a healthy sign.
A Wet — [2nd meaning] A boy capable of producing a measurable volume of semen. As in, 'I've heard he's a wet now.'
AC — Anal cleansing fluid, used after every BM. As in 'I've run out of AC.'
A Baddy — A graze or other minor injury.
A Cracker — A boy with an attractive pair of buttocks, usually. And other parts.
Knicks — Boys' bespoke underpants unique to the school, and loved by boys and staff alike. Often stolen.
A Tight — A boy who doesn't understand anything about sex.
A Silk — A skinny boy with a low BMI.
A Silky — A piece of material, eg. handkerchief, used in conjunction with a thumb, for self-comforting purposes.
The Dodger — The finger used to cleanse the anus, and higher, of any remaining faeces after a BM. Mandatory routine; or used recreationally for pleasure. Complimentary to masturbation.
Dodging — Any finger, or fingers used for self-pleasuring or another, of the anus and higher. Cubs and above; except for Vestal Inspections.
Cubs. Third and fourth Formers.
Big Jobs — A full bowel movement [BM] essential before anal play.
A Puddle — A wet patch immediately following a Wet. To be reported. Mandatory. Sheet to be changed.
A Doodle — A gentle feeling of a boy's genital area. Common practice amongst Cubs.
A Jam[tart]. A flirt. Typical Vestal behaviour, to be discouraged.
A Mouth — A boy known to have fellated another.
Musician — A boy willing to fellate. [Only Viriles and Fertiles]. A practice not confined to boys in the school or S. Mary's church choir.
A Fresh — A Vestal 'maiden' who has made his first sexual contact. Punishable.
The Stick — A cane used to beat a boy. As in 'I've just had the stick'. Corporal punishment no longer permitted due to new EEC rules concerning Human Rights.
A Lolly — A boy willing to fellate another.
Stores — The room where all the boy's and Supervisors clothes are kept.
A Swallow. Any boy willing to ingest semen that is not his own.
A Dove — An attractive Maiden of gentle and attractive character.
A Cave, or Dungeon — A private lavatory.
The Pits — Latrines generally.
Smog — Underarm odour, or elsewhere, eg. the groin area. Unknown.
Fluff. Pubic hair, generally.
Bum fluff — Hair around the anus. Unknown.
Wires — More developed pubic hair. Unknown.
Whispies. First pubic hair.
Whispers. Rumours of a sexual relationship
A Rocket — An unusually strong projectile ejaculation, as in 'I had a rocket this morning.' Apocryphal.
Boycave — A boy's rectum, higher and beyond the anus.
In the Mood — Desirous of sexual gratification, in any form.
A Snog — A prolonged kiss.
Tickles. An orgasmic sensation. As in, 'He gave me the tickles.'
Tongue tickling — Activity on and around that part of the penis called the frenulum. Very sought after.
A Wet Snog — One with tongues involved.
Snogging — The act of kissing, with or without tongues involved.
A Snake Snog — With tongues tangled.
A Rip — Passing wind. As in 'Have you just ripped?'
A Bud — An anus unused by anyone else, or thought to be.
A Bud Tickle — Gentle friction applied around and at the anal threshold.
Flower Boy — A Vestal who is suspected of having some sort of sexual contact with an older boy. Forbidden.
A Pash, or Crush — A deep desire to know a particular boy better, probably sexually.
To Water — To pass water.
A Sub[marine] — The normal firm product of a BM.
A Kinderkum — An unproductive dry orgasm, typical of a Princess or immature Cub.
BP — Child pornography involving pre-pubescent boys and girls. Unknown in this environment, and considered abhorrent.
Boy Chogging — Same sex intercourse.
A good Chog — Successful and enjoyable penetrative sex between two consenting boys.
A Chog — The name for a boy's human possession with whom he has regular sex, as in 'Peter is my Chog'.
Pod. A boy's anus, derived from the Latin, podex.
A Vestal — A First or Second Former. Any kind of sexual activity is forbidden, including self-abuse.
Milk — What a Virile or a Fertile can produce at the moment of a sexual peak. Normally a thinner, watery product.
Cream — More mature semen.
A Dribbler — Derogatory term for a younger boy, eg, a Cub, inferring his lack of semen volume, or any, at orgasm. Rarely used.
Sticky — Pre-ejaculatory fluid.
Stuff — Semen of any consistency or maturity.
Taste — A willingness to ingest another boy's semen, or EF. [Ejaculatory fluid].
Tossed off — Having been masturbated to orgasm. Only permitted between Cubs and above.
CH — Embryonic 'fluff' around the anal region.
Boy cunt — Anus. If heard, punishable. Considered crude and disrespectful. Rare.
A Cunt — An unpopular member of the ancillary staff.
A Slipper — A smooth 'skinny' penis belonging to the youngest boys.
On bone — Erect.
The Horn — An erection, as in 'I've got the horn.'
A Noisy — A boy unable to keep quiet during sexual activity, particularly at the moments of orgasm.
The Gloom — Feelings of regret following solo masturbation. A guilty feeling. Rare after mutual masturbation.
Buns — Buttocks. As in, 'He's got a nice pair of buns'.
Panties — A term sometimes used by an effeminate younger boy, or in fact any boy. Also used by Supervisors.
A Solo — Solitary masturbation, forbidden at any time for First and Second Year boys. As in, 'did you have to go solo last night?'
A VA. Visual Aid, eg. a naughty gay magazine, occasionally found and confiscated by Supervisors, and never returned. These are sometimes destroyed. Other material featuring nude or non-nude teens, or younger.
A Soggy — A Virile or Fertile's tissue or handkerchief, used post orgasm. Punishable if found. Sometimes crudely referred to as a
cum rag. An Up — An erection. As in, 'Have you got an up Jack?'
On Jack — Having an erect penis.
A Bunny — A term for a boy with particularly full and attractive buttocks.
A VPL. Visible Panty Line. The seams of leg openings in brief underwear visible through the boys' short trousers. Seen everywhere here and universally admired. Rarely seen now on boys [other than at Frendon].
Tights — As above, or a term for brief underwear. As in, 'Have you seen my tights John?'
Celibates — All Supervisors, and First and Second-Year boys [Vestals].
An Active — Boys known to be sexually active with an approved Considerate Partner [CP].
Marrieds — Two boys in a longer term relationship; lasting in excess of one month.
Marriage — An informal arrangement between two boys, occasionally three, for a special reason.
Cubes — Partitioned spaces that contain two single beds, or Litters, with a small space in between.
A Litter — A single bed, iron head and foot, simple wire springs, with mattress over, usually sunk in the middle.
A Widdler — A First Year boy [Vestal], implying a small immature penis, pretty but of no practical use other than natural functions.
A Tartan — A plaid travel blanket from home, laid as a top cover on a litter, for extra winter warmth.
Inside job — An anal intrusion of any kind. As in, 'Did you get an inside job?'
A Grapple — A snogging session. Only Cubs and above.
Pool ringing — Three or four boys forming a ring around another boy for reasons of intimacy.
A Top — The boy on top, facing his partner, or not. Riding. Penetrative sex with a boy arranged to mhis advantage above the other, either facing or otherwise.
An Underdog — The boy underneath, to facilitate the sexual fulfilment of a Top.
Sideways — A sexual position, legs bent and on their sides.
Tooling — Fellating.
A nappy — Diaper.
A Test — Sperm count and mobility test. Frequent for Fertiles. Data logged, but kept private. Rare.
Slap — Water based lubricant, generally available after instructional consultation with the individuals concerned.
Snapper — Over-zealous Supervisor with camera. A term only used by the boys.
The San — Short for Sanatorium. A separate room reserved for the unwell or infectious.
A Hunk — An attractive Member of Staff.
Peaches — Buttocks.
Peaches and cream — Imagined intercrural sex. As in, 'I let Michael have peaches and cream.'
All the way — Sexual intercourse. As in, 'Did you go all the way with him? [Or her].'
Buzzers — Vibrators for different functions, including taking voluntary semen samples [Viriles and Fertiles only].
A Bint — An attractive Vestal.
Sweetener. Semen, more or less mature.
Sweet stuff — Semen.
Inspection — A physical wellbeing check undergone by all boys and carried out by Supervisors at least once a term.
A Virile — A pubescent boy beginning to explore his sexual potential. Probably also a
Wet .
A Cock. A male chicken. Also slang for a boy's penis. Considered crude and vulgar, thus never used.
A Wanting — A less attractive boy seeking sex with another.
A Wanted — A desirable boy.
Hunting — Actively seeking casual sex.
Hunted — Asked, and agreeing to a one-off mutual masturbation session. As in 'I got hunted yesterday.'
A Dry — A boy who hitherto, has not produced semen at orgasm.
Magic — An orgasmic sensation. As in 'I could do with some magic right now.'
Muck box. A very private space in the form of a wooden lockable box within which any kind of personal item can be securely kept.
MM — Mutual masturbation. As in 'Do you fancy a quick MM?'
Raphael looks at Michael, the open-mouthed candidate for employment.
'So? What do make of that then Michael?'
'It's certainly quite a long list. Some of the words suggest……..'
'Yes they do. The thing is Michael, we have to know what's going on, so we have our ways of monitoring everything. The inspections are necessary . Boys will be boys Mike. Think back to when you were twelve or thirteen. You had certain thoughts and feeling no doubt?'
Mike nods.
'What ways……Sir? The monitoring thing?'
'Quite. We think those feelings should be not be supressed but allowed to develop and flourish which, in our opinion, give our boys a far greater chance of making more successful long-term relationships in the future. Better marriages for example. Better gay friendships too, if that's the way they decide to go. Not all the boys take advantage of these kinds of freedoms, around twenty five percent. One in four. So it's not some kind of pre-pube whore house going on here I can assure you. But things can happen naturally and that's fine. Before you go, I do have a question to ask you.'
Michael looks hunted. It's a question he's been expecting at some point, and he's been dreading the moment he has to respond to it, in all honesty. He knows at some point he's going to have to face it. So here goes……
'According to the letter from your school, there was an incident right at the very end of your school career which, if it were I, I might regret rather. Would you like to tell me about that? If you would rather not discuss it, that's fine, but it would be most helpful, in this situation , if you did? We need to know everything Michael, so there's no need to fear. Be honest with us and there's nothing to fear, I can assure you.'
Michael goes cold. Does he have a choice? Not really. Raphael settles back to listen to Michael Warrior's sorry tale. This is how Michael wanted it to go…… ut it didn't quite work out that way. This is how Michael thought it would go. He was wrong.
An hour after lights out. The sleeping boy in the next bed. The back of the pretty head of fair maiden hair on the pillow. No sound from the boy. The hand that crept under the covers. The undone pyjamas. The warm soft bare skin. The tiny flaccid circumcised penis that gradually grew larger and larger within his fingers. The boy who has turned onto his back now, perhaps wakeful? Perhaps not. And then the stimulation begins, towards the ultimate goal. To grant the fifteen-year-old boy, who looks more like twelve if truth be told, a pleasure of the flesh, long lasting and powerful. But make this last Michael. Not so fast. Feel the boy, caress and stroke the boy. Make his unconscious mind wait. And then, the pleasure all the greater for both of you.
He was the House team's scrum half to Micheal's fly half, so they were colleagues in that sense, and friends too without it actually being said they were.
The boy's penis couldn't measure more than three inches at most. Michael had wondered about that aspect. He had never had sight of it, such were the efforts the boy had gone to, to keep that secret from the public gaze. No one really knew. He always kept his back to other boys when changing, or dressing in the morning.
The tiny organ had felt hard all right, so no problem there, as he began again, slowly. But impatience grew as his own desire rose to grant himself the same pleasure. How long could he wait?
Not long Michael. Not long now as the tummy contracted inwards. His always did that, just before. There it goes again. Surely any moment now. Surely?
He felt it on his thumb, the wetness. Not much, in fact you'd hardly call it any kind of real wetness, but it's there alright. A shining thumb in the quarter light from the hallway. He had made Simon come in his hand.
There was just enough there to know more about the boy he loved, as the shining liquid disappears onto Michael's tongue. Yes, there is a taste to it, definitely. That familiar dry taste, metallic almost, with an element of sweetness there. Not everybody's cup of tea.
And then his own pleasure, inspired by that very recent and what is to be, a truly catastrophic event.
'I'm so sorry Michael. You took such a risk. Whatever possessed you? He'd not given you any encouragement had he?'
'No, not really. We hadn't really been friends on account of his age. I was seventeen. I think he knew how I felt about him. In a moment of………I'd put my fingers through his hair. He just smiled and told me I was getting fresh with him. He didn't complain. At the beginning of the term I'd been moved into that room because the boys were considered to have a poor attitude towards everything. If I was there, it would discourage them from some sort of rebellion against the House authority, or at least be there to dampen things down. Put a few fires out. They were at that age of general dissent with anything. Troublesome individuals. I couldn't help myself. I loved him so much. Not any of the others, just him. He was such an attractive boy in so many ways. The next day my life changed.'
'I really am so sorry Michael.'
'I couldn't even apologize to him, because I wasn't allowed to see anyone that night; and last of all him. That last night I slept in the san, away from everybody else. I had been isolated. Everything had gone. Just like that; finished. Over.'
'Would you like to stay here tonight? You'd be very welcome. You don't have to see anyone else now and I can run you down to the station tomorrow morning?'
'That's very kind but……….'
'Think about it. There would be one advantage to staying over. You could see how the evenings work here. It's quite social with the boys and they would see you more informally. I can read these boys like a book. They like you. Did you notice their reaction at the pool this afternoon? I did. You could come on my rounds and talk to them. After all, that's what you will be doing shortly. It would be a very positive introduction to the nightlife here. I think you're going to like it. I just have that feeling. Do you ever get that feeling? It's a very good feeling. That you've come to the right place?'
I don't think Raphael could have been clearer, do you?
Michael drew another deep breath as his tummy did another flip. He's more than excited. To be with these boys night after night, day after day, joining with them in all that they do. But now the rules of the game…….
'There are of course restrictions. Things that are taboo for all the boys, and us. Some of the freedoms the boys can enjoy, if they wish, are not our freedoms. There are many moments when you want to put a boy on your lap, put your arms around him and enjoy the weight of his body against yours. To touch his flesh and tell him how much you care. But you also know that you can't. The boys are untouchable Michael. They are like small pieces of fragile glass. Their minds and bodies are undeveloped and vulnerable and to be nurtured at all costs. They are at the same time like a flower bud preparing to open into bloom and astonish us with their beauty. A miracle in fact. They are all miracles. But……….there are other ways Michael, to enjoy them. They are there for us, whenever we want them, whenever we need them, but they are not there. Not in that live flesh that we know and love. A paradox you might say, and you'd be right. They are but they're not. We know what they do in their daily lives Michael. By day and by night. We have watchful eyes everywhere. We can see what they do, and when they do it, how they do it, and as they do it. Even what they say to each other. We see everything Michael, just as it happens.'
'Do you? How?' Michael asks, his heart beating faster now.
'So, what about it then? My offer?' Raphael asks, but he already knows the answer he'll get from the attractive Michael Warrior. He knows enough about Michael now to know the answer. And Michael also knows enough now, to know exactly what he's about to say.
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