Remembering Ryan

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 4

Ryan will be rid of his plaster cast this morning. Matron is taking him to the Fracture Clinic at ten and I'll get to see him after school up here in our room. Apparently he'll have a sheet about what to expect his arm to look like, what he can and can't do, and how long it will be before everything is back to normal. He's been encumbered now for five weeks, so he's more than ready to have done with the thing. I'll be rather sorry if truth be known, which is a very selfish notion of mine, I agree. I've enjoyed the caring of this lovely boy; every aspect of it. Obviously things have to move on, but I've done my best for him, although Ryan might argue that I've not done enough for him. One thing in particular that has caused him some anguish.

He's sitting on the edge of his bed showing me his bare arm.

'It looks weird Simon. Sort of withered. All white, and the hairs are darker aren't they? And it's smelly.'

'It will pong a bit Ryan. It's been inside a cast for five weeks. You'd smell if you'd been inside that thing all that time.'

'Can I have a bath? We can skip Chapel can't we?'

No we can't. Chapel attendance is considered mandatory for a number of reasons. I read the information sheet Ryan had been given. Bathing recommended, but nothing much else. No games or any other physical activity that might upset things. There were no specific exercises to do; just a boy's normal activities will be enough to get things back to normal in a few weeks, or less. Satisfying one's sexual urges wasn't mentioned, but that's in the normal exercise category for most boys I would have thought. Ryan hasn't mentioned anything yet, but I know it's in his mind. He's going to try whatever any doctors sheet of no no's says. I know I would. It would be the first thing I did. Five weeks of abstinence? I was eleven when I first asked David for a favour.


'Don't you want to?'

'Of course I do! I thought you didn't want to.'

'Well I do; quite badly actually. When will you?'

'As soon as you can be ready?'

'You've got me ready now. Can't you see?'

David and I hit it off from day one, but it took a bit longer for us to realise that a friendship can mean more than just hanging out together. It's those first touches, accidentally on purpose . The play wrestling stuff, and the noticing how it's affecting the other. That tell-tale bump in your pants. We wonder why does it get like that? Why is it feeling like this? Why am I feeling like this? What if he wasn't here? How would I feel then? When I think about him, and if he wasn't here, why do I feel like crying?

He sitting here in his grey school short trousers, riding high up his thighs, knees apart. He looks me straight in the eye. Then he lies back on the bed giving me that little flash of white. There's a little bump forming. I can see it, and it's making me get one too. He's moving it with his fingers so it's in the right place now. So it can grow.

'I'll miss what you've done for me Simon. Thanks.'

That's nice. It's a little emotional moment for both of us.

'Can I have a hug please?'

Sitting opposite him, I can pull him up by his arms towards me, off his bed, my hands behind him, one lower that it ought to be. I'm sitting now, so I have him between my legs, almost dangling, his arms around my back, his face against mine. This is a good moment. A beautiful moment. I turn my face towards his and plant a gentle kiss on his cheek to distract him from what my hand is doing on his bottom. I can feel the seams of his pants through the material of his shorts. I follow the proud lines as they join between his buttocks, and a little further. This routine was a fixture with David and I. Our foreplay if you like. Playing with each other's bottoms whilst clothed. We could do it in the most unlikely places at school. No one would notice. But clothes could only be removed under certain circumstances, like a changing room or dormitory, and any undoing or touching might well be noticed.

Ryan turns his face to mine and presses his lips against me. It's not a kiss, just a gesture, and enough; for now.

'Will you feel me please?'

He's standing before me as he has done so many times in the last four weeks. With both hands, and looking down, he pulls his shirt up and out of his trousers, holding it all in one hand against his tummy. I undo him and his shorts slide down his thighs, over his knees and down. With my thumbs inside the elasticated waistband, I can now reveal him. The poor little thing has been caught inside, to one side, curved by it's restriction, puckered a little, but now free, it begins to swell and straighten under the direction of Ryan's finger tips.

'There you are. He's free, and so are you Ryan. But don't be in a hurry. Take your time. You've waited this long. Gently does it.'

I have to explain to him. It's been a long time. It might well not be that easy. Not that first time.

We watch as he fiddles and grows until up to the maximum. You have to feel for it. How many times has this happened and it has not happened. All that lovely innocence left unsatisfied.

'Can I try now? Just for a bit?'

'Of course. Just see how it goes.'

'Will you help me?'

He said there had been signs before he broke his arm. Growing up stuff. I recognized those signs, and very soon after that, things get going. Then when it starts for real, it can be quite dramatic. David was before me as he was in most things. A faster runner, higher in the weekly Form Order, second to my seventh, taller by a couple of inches, and dare I say it, a bit longer in the boy-bits stakes.

One morning David told me what had happened. It was all quite sudden; almost overnight. And then, a few weeks alter I had a story to tell David.

The bottom sheet felt cold and wet one morning, half way down. It had to be something to do with my penis. I still had a lively erection, and gradually a vivid waking dream reappeared in my memory. It was David. We had been playing one of our sexual games together. I was terrified and excited at the same time. In one way I was frightened to tell mum, but in another I wanted to. So I did. She hugged me and explained.

With Ryan's feet further apart I can help him with my hands as I stroke his inner thigh with my palm, my other hand behind him. He's very close to me, and as I look down to see how things are going, it looks encouraging. He's becoming a little breathless now as he works the skin up and down in a steady rhythm, the head completely free now.

'How does that feel Ryan?' I ask quietly.

'Good.' Is the answer. 'But it won't come. I know it won't.'

'It will Ryan. It will. A little at a time, and as often as you want. It will come. I promise.'

Of course once the negative ideas embed, nothing is going to happen. We don't want that.

'Can I try in the bath?'

Absolutely we can.

Although Ryan's arm must be tender and a little weak, he can do much more for himself now as I watch the flow of Ryan's urine into the lavatory bowl. But not everything. Actually he could that too, but so long as he's here with me, that task I will keep for myself, much to Ryan's liking. The message posted at the back will be gratefully received at the front. Ryan's like that. Responsive to certain stimuli. Most stimuli in fact. Not only physical things but in other ways too.

The bath tub was never going to be the right place for Ryan to recover his poise. There's only one place for that. I gave him a five-minute start in the bathroom. When I went in he'd finished and was ready for the usual treatment that he could now, in theory, do for himself, but I have other ideas. He's in one of those quiet moods when he looks at you with those appealing eyes, a weak smile, and wanting attention. I can always tell.

He's naked now as he prepares to lie on his bed. I love his body. All of it.

Ryan pulls his legs towards him, his hands behind his knees, as close to his chest as they will go. I'm ready, sitting as I am beside him holding the small grey tub.

'You ok?'

'Uhuh.' Ryan replies.

I dip into the thick white mass and extract a moderate amount on the pad of my middle finger. Ryan looks at my hand and then lays his head sideways on the pillow. There's a sigh from him as I touch him gently. He knows the routine by now well enough. I'll be about five minutes, or, if matters progress well, much longer. We will have to see.

First the rotating motion, lightly around the margin, in slow circles gradually spirally in from the outside to the centre point. Two minutes of this, and it always has the same effect on Ryan. His penis will quickly swell and become twitchily hard. The flesh at the centre point is harder, muscular and resistant. But the muscle, tightened now, will like the sensitizing attention it is receiving, and gradually relax and welcome the invader in.

'You can let your legs go now Ryan.'

He does, and the soles of his feet find the firm surface of a boarding school mattress once more, knees wide apart.

The swelling has begun, in harmony with everything else. All the systems are synchronized, ready to respond, tuned now to pleasure, and in due course, to provide everything for the boy in the way that they should. It's a sexual re-set for Ryan. To begin again, but kept on the brink, then a final release. We'll see. Perhaps, or perhaps not.

I read that it won't work for everybody. It does for me, and for David. For Ryan? Maybe. I think it probably will.

Ryan's using his hand now, three fingers and his thumb to be precise. The swelling is complete, exposed, raw and hot to the touch; and waiting.

I'm there for him too, in touch with what might be the ultimate trigger, there inside him, being made ready, woken up to the possibility, to gradually creep up on the boy's sexual consciousness and then explode in rapid pulses of pleasure, pumping joyfully.

'What happened Simon?' Asks David, as I feel the moisture on my tummy.

'I don't know. I'm not sure.'

'But it did happen……..didn't it?'

'Oh yes, it did .'

I'll never forget those moments of pure joy. It was not so much the feeling, but the person who brought it about. My real partner. The realisation that I was indeed, in love with David.

Talk about this story on our forum

Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.

[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]

* Some browsers may require a right click instead