Remembering Ryan

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 3

It's amazing how tactile human flesh is, especially when your hands are on a body like Ryan's. Oh lordy.

Life conjures up all sorts of difficulties when your arm is in plaster beyond the elbow, and in a sling. Still, we've avoided disaster so far and kept everything dry. But the bathing process is not entirely straightforward.

'Probably best if you kneel Ryan.'

'Like this?'

'Perfect. How much can you do for yourself?'

'Nothing really. Please will you do it?'

'Some bits I can't touch sweetheart.'

Damn. Sweetheart? Saying that might prove to be an error of judgement. A slip of the tongue. But undaunted, Ryan argues…..

'Why not? What bits?'

'Those bits.' I say, pointing towards his mid-parts. 'You've got one good arm with a hand on the end of it. You can do that bit.'

'But you can do the rest can't you? My back and everything else? I can't reach my feet either. Will you wash my hair please?'

We've already set the precedence for everything else with the managing of the antiseptic and soothing Sudocrem, so there's no difficulty with that part.

He's resting his arm on the edge of the bath as I soap up his back, a far pleasanter experience for both of us without the use of a flannel. One hand on Ryan's tummy, low down, and the other working up and down the boy's back parts, right down to the upper thighs. All this inevitably means another visit to Ryan's rump. It would appear that when I leave it after a swift re-visitation, he objects. So I go back and linger a little longer in the margins of propriety, and frankly, the inappropriate elsewhere . Neither of us have words, but I'm noticing something that says far more than words, and I'm bound not to go there. Just like my friend David, the front is directly linked to the back, which anatomically speaking, it is.

He's lying in the water that barely covers him, and on his back now, with a certain part of him pointing north, more or less unsheathed, and breaking the surface of the bubbly water noticeably perky, and the boy's 'good' hand around it.

'You ok down there Ryan?'

'It's like there's a wriggly worm inside it trying to get out. I don't like it like this.'

'Oh dear. That's annoying. Can't you…….before you go to sleep? Or in the morning?'

'No. It's no good.' He says lifting his good arm away from his body.

By his age most boys are ridding themselves of that annoying wriggly sensation on a regular basis. I've never been unable like Ryan is after his little accident, and it must be extremely frustrating not be able to satisfy such a deep and urgent desire for relief. For a moment I imagined an alternative letter of instruction from his people…..

Ryan may have other personal and intimate needs that will need attention from his pupil-carer. These should be met as soon as is practical as the need arises.

With his knees bent and apart as far as the bath allows, I attend to Ryan's slim lower legs, mid inner and outer thighs, right to the top.

'Please will you do it?'

I had put the small bar of soap into Ryan's hand.

'No Ryan, I can't. You know that.'

With my hands under his arms, I manage to haul the boy out of the bath and dry him with a medium sized cream-coloured towel from the nearby rail. It feels like one of those towels we have at home, thick and soft. That annoying worm is still wriggling inside it seems. What a beautiful picture he paints at this moment, and what a wonderful conclusion would normally await him, if that were at all possible. That little tickle would fade, that itch satisfied, the intense wave of pleasure swept over the mind and body, and gone now; the glow persisting as the boy passes into much needed sleep. How long would it take me? Two minutes? No, make it last much longer than that until I finally take pity on this sweet boy and let him have what he needs. Cruel me.

'How is it going with Ryan then?' asks David, sitting next to me at the lunch table.

'Alright. A bit tricky with his arm out of action as you can imagine.'

'I can imagine. I suppose you have to do everything for him?'

'Yes, pretty much. I'm fine with all that stuff. Had to do it on a regular basis for my little brother. I mean, you wouldn't want Matron doing that for you would you?'

'Hell no. What a thought. Doesn't bear thinking about. What exactly do you do for him Simon? Or putting it another way, what do you not do for him?'

I laughed and told him.

'Shit, that's awkward isn't it? Poor lad. Why won't you? You do everything else for him. So if he asked you point blank, you wouldn't comply?'


'One other question. When you're dealing with irritated rear parts, how far do you go?'

'As far as I need to.'

'And how far is that?'

'Far enough, as the situation requires.'

'And how does all this affect you Simon?'

'Deeply David.'


'Of course.'

'So it's ok for you then, when the light's out and he can't see what you're doing? I'm sure I couldn't keep the right side of things in that situation.'

'Ah, but you don't have my strict moral code David.'

'Bollocks. And he hasn't noticed? That would be too cruel if he has.'

'He may have done. This morning. I lost it a bit. It was hot in the room so I pulled the covers off me. I'd checked first and he seemed fast asleep at that point. I'm not sure but I think he may have woken up.'

'You weren't covered up?'


'Bloody hell. And?'

'What do you think happened?'

'One of your specials?'

'Yes. When I looked sideways at him, his eyes were open.'

'His eyes were opened you mean? He's probably never seen it before.'

'No, probably not.'

'How far did you get it this time?'

I pointed to my face. David laughs.

'And he saw that ?'

'Yes I think so.' I say smiling. 'But it was quite dark.'

David shakes his head.

'Can I help? Just to circumvent your ridiculous moral code?'

'Certainly not. I'm not having my responsibility corrupted by the likes of you David. Not after what you didn't do to me.'

'What exactly? That's not how I remember it. We were younger than Ryan is now. Are you saying that we went too far?'

'Not far enough old boy.'

'I could sneak into your room one evening Simon. Or in the morning and sort Ryan out?'

'Perish the thought.'

What's he like in the morning anyway? A bit woody perchance?'

'What do you think David. Just like the rest of us, unless of course? From little acorns David.'

'Really? I'm surprised.'

'Don't be. It's real. A marvel of the human body, as you well know.'

'Cheeky bugger.'

I have very fond memories of our early encounters, David and I. Invited for a week in the holidays and him sneaking into my bed that first night. At last, a chance to do what we had wanted to do for weeks at school, and couldn't. Those powerful dry orgasms, our bodies desperately trying to ejaculate tons of semen, but failing miserably. And then the kissing on the mouth, the feel of a wet tongue on bare flesh and how it tickles. Then the dares. David wasn't the first to gently enquire of me.

It was his elder brother Hugh. We'd been down to the beach that day. I an't remember why we were on our own. He said needed help of a delicate nature. I had never been asked such a direct question like that, but after a little thought, I smiled at him and agreed. On our short stroll Hugh had touched me, not in a sexual way of course, but those little touches on the arm, the lower back, gave me cause to ponder. One might learn much from an older boy.

Ryan's been with us for a week now and settled in nicely. The other boys, as they do, have accepted him into our tightly knit society and some give him a ruffle of his hair as he passes which he seems to enjoy. In the mornings I can leave him in his private bathroom to get on with things, and then go in ten minutes later having done my thing in the boys' washroom to see to any needs he may have. He's usually still sitting there waiting for me.

'Ok Ryan?'

He nods, leaning forwards, his arms still resting on his legs. I do the usual making quite sure of everything. There, on careful inspection, all's sorted.

Lying naked on his back he hands me the grey tub. Prizing off the lid, I scoop up another dollop as he makes himself available.

'Ready?' I ask, as he inspects my laden finger. He nods. I look down to observe the little crease lines where the tops of his thighs meet the two buttocks. The gluteal fold. I love that little meeting place of the muscles, especially seen from underneath, as I am now. What is in between awaits me. In the past days I have become bolder. I do my work well as Ryan lays his head down, turned to one side. I may take five minutes, or even ten. Perhaps even longer. I can hear his breathing quicken, with several deep breaths as his body relaxes and accepts the gentle and very gradual intrusion. After a gentle massage of the margins, the tight ring relaxes and eagerly awaits the visitor. This is something Ryan derives deep pleasure from because he has told me how good it feels for him, and slowly it shows in another way. He tries with his 'wrong' hand but it's never going to work for him, poor boy. The breathing noises increase as he withdraws his hand in frustration. I'm the only one who can do anything for him, and I am, the way I want to. We don't need David.

David had gone into the town with his mother that morning, Hugh asked me if I like to walk with him to the beach, no more than a five minute stroll. I like Hugh; hairy Hugh. All blond hair everywhere, except his chest. I think he's seventeen. I knew as soon as I arrived at the house to stay with my friend. I knew straight away that Hugh liked me. You can tell. I smiled at him and he smiles back. I knew that if I waited long enough he'd do something. While we walked he started doing it; his hand on my bottom. I had light touches on my arm a few times already. Bottoms are sexual parts, at least they are to me. Hugh desires me in a sexual way. I certainly don't mind that. It will be different with David. I'm flattered. I was in my lightweight shorts. His hand feels warm and firm as it moves over me, feeling for the seams of my underpants. And then up my back under my tee shirt, and down to what he likes best…….and what I like best. We walked back to the house. It took about ten minutes. He took me up to his room. David had to be out of course, which he was. Hugh asked me if I would mind if he played with me. Played with me? I said I didn't mind. Then he started. He felt inside my shorts and pants. He said I was very responsive. I know I am, like David is with me. We took all our clothes of and then I saw him. I'd never seen anything like that before. I touched it. Then I put my hand around it and gripped it tight. It felt hot and very hard. Then his balls. Again, tight and hard. Then he asked me to do it for him. I did, with a complete fist. At the end he kissed me on my mouth. It was everywhere, all over him, his sticky. Then I left him alone because he looked a little sad. I thought he was going to cry so I left him alone. I think it was my fault. I can remember it so well, even now, that moment when he told me to stop, but it was too late and it all came out. I have never told David about me and his big brother Hugh.

Ryan's standing in front of me as I pull up his pants, adjust things a little, turn him around, and then back again. He's still pointing forwards and north inside the loose white cotton fabric. I think he's getting used to our routine now. The dressing and undressing. The intimate stuff. I've loved looking out for him in these ways, and all the other ways too. He's such a sweet boy. The plaster cast comes off in one week from today. Then he'll be free.

I love waking him in the mornings and seeing that first smile of the day. He knows I cry easily. Too easily David says. I take the covers off him and look at him. He can't do anything with his good arm like that, but he tries with the other one. Fiddles a bit. I pull his legs over the side of the bed so his feet are on the floor. Then I take his tee shirt off. He puts his arms up so I can slip the thing up and over his head. Then he looks down just to check it is still there and doing what it always does each morning, his little balls squished between his legs and the thing sticking straight up. It'll be a few minutes before he can even pee successfully.

I heard the piano playing along the hallway. I walked along to the door and listened. It was a slow rather melancholic tune. Hugh was in the same pair of pale green shorts that came right up his quite hairy legs with a dusting of very pale hairs that reflected the light from the window onto the garden. David had told me his brother studied music at Manchester. Some sort of music school. Hugh was sitting at the far end of a duet-friendly piano stool. I went in and sat on the spare bit of stool next to him. He just went on playing pretending he hadn't noticed me. The music sounded sad. I think he must be too. It's my fault. I've made him sad. I'm sure this is all about what happened earlier. He thinks he made me do something I didn't want to do. He didn't. I wanted to do it. I want to again. Although David and I play nicely together, and have done for a couple of years, this is something different. Very different. David said that Hugh has a steady girlfriend, but despite that mild inconvenience, I can still get him to play with me.

I'm leaning my head against his shoulder so now he stops playing.

'Don't stop. It's nice. What is it?'

'A litany for All Souls. Schubert. You wouldn't know it.'

'I know what I like.'

'What's that then?'

'This. What you're playing. It sounds sad. Are you?'

'A bit.'

'Can we go upstairs please?'

Hugh turns round and looks at me in that expressionless way boys can look when they're not sure about something.

'What, now?'

'Yes, now. That was almost an hour ago.'

He was just behind me on the stairs with his hand on my bottom. It gave me that queer wriggly feeling inside me. I stopped at the top, enjoying the feeling from his hand. I put my hand own hand behind me and felt for him. He's bigger. So am I.

He's sitting on the edge of his bed with me standing in front of him. I've taken my shorts down so I'm in my pants now, willy sticking out in them.

'What's her name; your girlfriend?'

'Jo. Short for Joanna.'

'Do you have sex together?'

'Sort of.'

'What sort?'

'None of your business.'

'So you don't then?'

Hugh leans forward and with his hands either side, gently, slowly, lowers my pants just below my bottom. I look down. The skin has come back and the head of willy is poking through. He puts his hand underneath and gently grips me. It feels very very good.

'Do you want to know then?'


'It's the best thing; what she does.'

'Is it?'

'Yes. Do you want me to show you?'

He leans forward and kisses me. Not on my mouth. Somewhere else. The wriggly feeling goes on deep in me. Then I feel his tongue, and his tight mouth, everywhere. Up and down, and around, and around, in even. The skin has gone back as far as it will go now. The wriggling is almost unbearable. His hand has gone between my legs too, right through and up. That makes me catch my breath. The wriggling changes direction inside me. He takes his hand away, and then a few moments later it comes back. The kissing goes on, but something else distracts me. I stood there wondering how far he would go. How far he could go. David and I had never dared to try it. Not this, the kissing, or that other thing.

When Hugh stands up to take his things off, there's no extra skin on his, just the bare hard thing poking up. There's some hair around it, and above.

'Don't do it if you don't want to.' He says quietly.

'I do want to.' I reply, looking up at him. I'm on my knees between his legs.

'Ok then.'

I do what he had shown me. How to give a boy the best feeling in the world, not that I can do it that well. He stopped me and began to rub himself up for a couple of minutes. The he told me start again. Then a bit more rubbing. I could tell he was getting much more excited. I pushed his hand away and began to kiss him again, just the way he had kissed me, up and down, around and around and as far down as I could go. I know the best places, where it works best. He has his hands on my head now, my ears in his fingers, the back of my neck. It's working now, this magic trick is working!

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