Remembering Ryan

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 10

I slept in Lucien's bed again last night, after a fish and chip supper eaten sitting on a bench right on the edge of the harbour. We watched several large fish gliding around just below us. Lucien said they were grey mullet. Anyway, they were big dark shapes mingling with shoals of tiny fish darting this way and that. Lucien's very careful what he eats, and by the time we had finished, our plain newsprint wrapping was full of a pile of unwanted chips and thick rather greasy golden batter stuck to fish skin. Lucien's not much taller than I am, and wafer thin, due to his very healthy eating habits; usually. But he's a hairy beast, even on his back. I don't like it much. I'm the opposite, apart from a little down there which I keep under firm control with a pair of scissors. I think David actually wants to be very hairy. Yuk.

Before bed we managed to fit in the shower together and I enjoyed being lathered up and rinsed off by Lucien, with the usual effect on both of us. When he was soaping up my back, with his usual thoroughness, I could feel his hardness poking my bottom. I think he enjoyed that more than I did. With my eyes shut and the feel of his hands all over my body, and my thoughts focused on Felix, as if it were him seeing to me like this, you might imagine how that felt. My sap was definitely rising!

I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth before bed at nine thirty. There was nothing on the television either of us could get interested in. I didn't hear him come back in, but I felt a hand on my bottom gently rubbing me. And then a probing finger and his mouth on the back of my neck. Cheeky sod. And then a hand around the front just to see how effective his gestures were. Very effective as it happens, but not because it was him. It was just the feel of it; the sensation. Lucien thought he was in for something special tonight, what with David et al not coming back to Padstow until later tomorrow. I had other ideas to distract Lucien away from me, and got on with the matter in hand right from the outset. It wasn't what Lucien really wanted, but after a little protestation, he gave in pretty quickly and let me do it for him, and went to sleep not quite deflated in my hand, and my curiosity satisfied again. Wet, warm, and rather sticky, and all arranged in a line of pools up his tummy and chest. Goodness knows how many millions of sperm were swimming around in that lot which I sorted with a damp flannel. So my dear boy David was once just one of those tiny critters that got lucky. That's my David, one in a million. I had two more trips to the ensuite bathroom before I can lie back in peace listening to Lucien's heavy breathing and think about tomorrow, and another meeting with my gorgeous find, Felix.

I'm fascinated, being what I am, in the event . Watching and waiting for it, and when it actually happens, and not just myself but the two others . The power of each contraction, how far it goes, and how many times as it diminishes, ending up with a dribble teased out from base to tip. All this is, fairly obviously, dependent on the situation and the quality of the build-up, and how long ago the last one was. So many things come into play between the brain and the body. Truly amazing.

As for the substance itself, David had no interest in mine, but in common with a lot of boys I've spoken to on the subject, he made an exception for his own. I took a different view of that matter. With him, if I was going to that trouble to please him I insisted on the full experience. That involved two hands in two different places, and my mouth, no holds barred and seeing things through to the bitter end, so to speak. I didn't share David's aversion. He got no further than the just the thought of it, and certainly not the raw reality of fellating me to a glorious finish.

'Oh crikey! [quoting the Crocodile Hunter] Simon, if you think I'm doing that you can think again.' Was his reaction to my tentative enquiry. I was deeply disappointed but I accepted his argument. Neither was he prepared to have a close encounter a couple of inches within me, something else I insisted upon when tending to his needs, drawing the comment…..

'Simon, you really are queer aren't you.'

How perceptive of you David. Three sensory holds on my boy seemed to be the perfect way to go about things. The fact that my dear friend is turning out to be what he appears to be now, a girl lover, is no surprise.

Of course I wouldn't consider any such favours for Lucien, apart from the simplest solution to his problem. I'm not sure either that he would even want that. I think he's essentially quite a moral character, but very interested in experiencing more than one aspect of the sexual landscape. I know in my case nothing would work with a girl if I tried. There would be nothing in it for either of us, so no point in considering it. That's not to say that I could never be good friends with her. I'm sure I could. Maybe I'll marry a girl who is into girls, and we could compare notes over tea in bed. But there wouldn't be much point in that.

Sara's bound to look at the bedsheets tomorrow, so we will be up in good time, and the sounds of mechanical domesticity everywhere in anticipation of a woman's rule re-established. So long as Sara sees plenty of plain tee shirts and knickers drying on the line and clean sheets on the bed, she's happy, according to Lucien. She has no idea, I presume, that Lucien comes onto me like he has done recently. Neither has David, although some of Lucien's beach games might lead one to suspect.

The house has three bedrooms, a large one at the back, and another two much smaller with no views of any interest. Obviously, Sandie was not going to be anywhere near David overnight. Boys and girls will go out to play, especially if they are given the opportunity to be somewhere warm and comfortable, and some guaranteed privacy. In the mood David's in these days, hormones going nuts, he'd have his perky little willy safely docked into Sandie's puffy bits in a heartbeat, the naughty boy. So I'm in with David as before dealing with his frustration, a task I'll never tire of. Seeing to the other guy seems to be my role these days. It's all one way now with David, but that's ok. I really don't mind. At least I still have his body next to mine, with its sometimes rather rank perfume disguised by the even worse strident smell of Lynx, the latest antidote to sweaty boys. David just has to wash that stuff off before I'll get into bed with him. Even then it lingers.

We met the train at Bodmin Parkway Station. On the way back I sat in the back of the car with David and Sandie, the new girlfriend between him and I. I had an immediate insight into why David was attracted to Sandie. Everything about her was compliant and acquiescent. Just like me then. David is quite a forceful character just like his father, so one tends to go along with what he wants. It's easier that way.

'Sandie. You're going to sit between me and Simon.' States David as a fact. You could have asked her where she's like to sit couldn't you David?

Naturally I had a good look at the person who has replaced me, rather hoping I would dislike her for her innocent sin against my humanity, but I can't. She's the nearest thing to a boy that a girl could be, in my limited experience. As she stood there on the platform at Bodmin, looking at the front of her incredibly brief plain white shorts tightly fitting around narrow hips, I was hoping to see the familiar bulge giving us the truth that she was not a girl after all, but a very pretty boy, but there was nothing there. Sandie must indeed be a girl. Looking further up, nothing much again, just two small pointed bulges where in time something more bulbous will develop no doubt. As of this moment I would not be averse to placing my palms on those sensitive little places pressing through her pale pink tee shirt, just out of general interest rather than anything sexual. It always makes David giggle when I do that for him, making his nipples stand up in hard little points. I think that boys like Felix and Ryan, at that age, are quite like girls in some ways. That's why, according to David, older boys at school fancy the nice-looking younger brethren. A convenient substitute for a girl. When I was that age, eleven and twelve, I wasn't about to complain. I mean what's the problem? Just let the poor lad have a fiddle. It can't be much fun banged up like they are and no availability of what they really need. So if we're willing, why not? Quite a few boys did it in return for smiles in corridors and earning a bit of leniency in tricky situations. Half a dozen of the older boys knew who we were; the likely candidates. Boys who would let them have a fiddle somewhere private, and relieve them of their problem, hanky in hand to catch it all, or most of it. Every boy carried a handkerchief in his pocket, changed for a clean one every other day, so it's condition got more and more disgusting until a clean one appeared on the bed, along with freshly laundered pants etc. My own endless orgasms produced nothing significant in my first year, apart from a tiny bead of clear sticky by the summer term, so the sad hanky I carried at least didn't have to mop up my own spermy stuff, and possible that belonging to A. N. Other, but just a bit of occasional blood from a knee or elbow scrape, and the contents of a dripping snotty nose. Us particular boys provided an essential service to the community you might say. Or you might not.

A couple of boys got interested in me in my first year. One very sporty boy, blond and as handsome as you like, the other a musician who played the organ, quite badly it was generally thought. The first one asked the question very politely one afternoon in the changing room after rugger practice. I'd just come out of the shower and my clothes hung on a hook near his. He'd showered just before me and was still not dressed, apart from his underpants. I stood still, looking down while he handled me very gently. I responded in the manner that pleased him and me, as I pressed my fingers against his erection, still in his pants. A rather large object as I recall. By this time I was looking the business, so he said, as he lowered his briefs. We were on our own down there in the bowels of the old building. It was job done soon after, for him, not me. Thereafter he made appointments to meet me in other places and at other times. We had nice chats afterwards about this and that. Henry. That was his name. The other was charming too and took me, illegally, to the cinema a couple of times on games afternoons. He was much more interested in my pleasure than Henry, and less in his own immediate satisfaction. Tim seemed genuinely fond of me and got very close to kissing me on my mouth several times, but I didn't want that. His thing was to bring me, and probably other boys too, to a slow but sure climax in the next cinema seat to his. Then he would see to himself, the ubiquitous white hanky at the ready, monographed. Very posh. He invited me out for tea with his parents a couple of times. Why would a boy invite another five years his junior to meet his parents? What must they have thought? That must have taken some courage. Not long before he left the school, I finally did it for him . A bit of an anti-climax, if I can put it that way. A damp squib. Yes he did come, but with a dribble out of a thick and not very hard sausage shaped object. So that was it. The sporty boy was very different. His was rock hard with a slight upwards curve and if his pants hadn't been placed in harms way, goodness knows how far it would have gone. To Henry I was a female substitute I'm sure. I fitted that bill nicely. For Tim I was a boy brimming with everything he desired. I was one person but perceived to be quite different by two other people. It took me a while to work out exactly what each of them wanted from me. I gave it to them and was perfectly happy to do so. I'm sure they were very grateful, bless 'em.

What older boys are attracted to in younger boys differs, I think, on whether they tend to be latent homosexuals or not. Tim was I'm sure. Once I talked to him about why he fancied me. There were two or three boys my age I 'liked'. I told Tim that it was a face that took my fancy first, then hopefully the boy's figure would be interesting too, his bottom in particular. Yes, face first, and then his bum which shouldn't be too full, or worse, nothing much at all, but just enough to be inviting, and preferably clad tightly enough in grey worsted to see evidence of what he wore underneath. What lay slumbering inside his knickers wasn't of any consequence at all, neither in the early stages nor at any time thereafter, should that ever become relevant. Whatever shape, size, or other features it had were never going to matter. One lovely blond boy, very sporty and a little younger than me and who occupied my thoughts for a while, had a tiny circumcised penis, and I mean tiny . I never saw it erect sadly, but it wouldn't have put me off him for one second had his mini peen not expanded much. Not when you're in love with everything about him. But he was so essentially non-sexual, I doubt if it ever got hard anyway. I think it was my third year when I was put in the bed next to his for a term. I was thrilled at the prospect of colluding sexually with him for a term at least, but despite my very mildly erotic suggestions, I got nowhere with him. Fair enough, there was no earthly reason why he should want to, and the last thing you do is foist yourself on anybody. Thereby lies deep sadness. But my private thoughts of tweaking his mini rock-hard erection to a delicious wriggling orgasm, haunted me for months. I'm pretty certain that he never masturbated, unlike the boy in the bed the other side of me who did it quite openly with a fantastic and lengthy sigh when he came into his hanky. That's something many boys see no reason to hide. It's normal for us. That's what most of us did each and every day.

Sara turns her head around for the umpteenth time to make sure all is well in the back of the car as we motor past Wadebridge, and then through the nightmarish narrow pass through St. Issy, trying not to tear the side of the car off as you pass within an inch of sheer and unyielding Cornish granite, and up the hill with the old railway bridge along the Camel estuary down to our right, and finally negotiating the sharp left turn by the old railway station and into the crowded harbour area. I hate that last bit around the busy harbour as we wait for the aimless wandering crowd to become aware of our presence and get out of the way. Two boys are crabbing, kneeling precariously at the edge, dangling lines and presenting their cute bottoms, thinly clad, underwear nicely evident. It's one of the delights of Padstow, and other places, the crabbing community, kneeling, bottoms up. There's another boy standing nearby who doesn't notice us. It's Felix. My tummy does a flip as we pass no more than six feet from him. He's no doubt at a loose end watching the boys as one of them pulls up his line baited with a fragment of bacon rind, with a tiny crustacean attached to be kept in a plastic bucket for a half hour before being reunited with his mates in the murky depths of Padstow harbour. I know I will never know Felix properly. He'll be just another holiday memory to cherish, and cherish it I certainly will. That thought very oddly brings tiny beads of moisture to my eyes, but not enough to wipe away.

It's a tight fit for three bodies in the back of the car, so Sandie's bare leg has been against my bare leg all the way from Bodmin. It's been a pleasant feeling despite the fact that she's female. Her bare arm too, against mine. So soft and warm. Her hands are held together at the top of her legs, as if protecting her innocence. Her face is pink, unused to being the filling in this all-male sandwich, but liking it I suspect. Maybe she's harbouring thoughts of escaping her watchful chaperone so she might experience a little of a boy's charms, unseen by others, more than likely for the first time in her life. I imagine that most girls her age have never felt a boy's penis, not that I'd know about that. But I bet she's thought about it, what it would feel like, soft and then hard to her touch. Her mother would have given her a lecture on sex. Situations that could prove to be tricky; tempting her to go further than is wise. Nothing below the waist darling. Remember that……absolutely nothing below the waist darling. Promise? Yes mum, I promise. So sweet.

One thing has become abundantly clear to me. David's mother, Sara, has no intention of allowing her friend's daughter any time alone with David, by day, and more crucially, by night. No doubt she has given assurances and made promises to Sandie's mother. Under no circumstances should the boy and girl be left alone together. Sandie has been told too, in no uncertain terms, the dangers of allowing boys to go further than they ought. David is mature enough now to create situations that might have dire consequences, as I well know. I know what David is capable of these days. Plenty.

David wanted to show Sandie the town in all it's dubious glories. I went down the hill with them, but left them at the harbour, saying I would see them back at Fentonluna by tea time. I found Felix still in the same place, watching Rex fishing. I'm desperate for just a little more time with him. When I caught up with him, he was keen to meet the next morning. Very keen. He explained exactly where he lived, and an arrangement was made for ten in the morning; sharp. We had unfinished business.

Felix lives in a small stone cottage at the town end of Treverbyn Road. Both his parents were out at work so we could go straight up to Felix's room. There were no preliminaries, no 'how are you's', no words really. He made straight for the stairs up to his room and I followed with my eyes fixed on his beautiful bottom in semi-transparent white sporty shorts moving sexily as he mounted the stairs. He stopped at the top and turned towards me. I stopped and smiled at him.

We sat together on the edge of his single bed looking at each other. When I touched his shoulder he closed the gap between us, his mouth open with shining lips. I put my face closer to his, my tongue moistening my mouth. Then closer still, our faces almost touching.

'No time to waste…….is there?' I said quietly.

'No. I was thinking about you all night.' Was Felix's reply.

'Thanks. That's so sweet of you. You really are… know…….. very nice.'

'Can we do it please?'

'I hope so. Anyway we can try can't we? I was thinking of you too Felix.'

The first kiss was sweet, our hands on each other's shoulders. The second one, after a very brief rest, was far more urgent, hands now around necks. We both just wanted to get on with what we desired from each other.

Will it be him first and then me? Just like those early school encounters when those basic instincts come calling and are answered with gentle hands and unsaid words of love. Simple sex with another boy. Nothing fancy. Ever since I became capable, I've not gone without it for very long. Some boys appear to have no interest at all; others are very different. We all have a choice.

What pretty eyes he has as we stand together, both undressed by the other, and close in every way now. Touching. Such beauty in my arms, gently held. We still have time together. There's plenty of time. More than an hour, perhaps more.

'Can I lie on you please?' Felix asks.

I remembered our walk to Stepper Point and Felix's request.

'That boy Ryan you talked about. Can I pretend to be him? Just for a while. Now?'

I turned my head and blew a little puff into his ear. That made him wriggle and giggle. Yes Felix, if you insist, you may be Ryan.

Felix is on his knees either side of my chest as I lie here on his single bed. It's an old one with a dark oak headboard, a cheap one probably from granny's house or from the used furniture shop down the road, and squeaky springs like our school beds. He's looking down at me, open mouthed and about to dribble onto my face if he's not careful. Oh, those eyes and hair. I can feel it in my fingers as I hold his head in my hands, the desire to kiss him deeply overwhelming me. We are both concentrating on one other thing. Where his body is in relation to mine.

David and I tried it as an advance on the other stuff we had done. It's a sort of half-way house, prior to plucking up the courage to do the real thing. We'd had this discussion about virginity; how you lose it if you are two boys together. It took a while the first time, but if one was sufficiently worked up before hand with our other games, it was possible. Not only that, but it was incredibly good too. We decided that doing it this way did not compromise our virginity.

'Put your hands on my shoulders Felix. Yes, like that. Now move forwards until I say stop. You should be able to feel exactly where I am. Work your way forwards until you feel yourself in the right place.'


'Almost. Go back a bit.'

'Like this?' He asks. Goodness, this is perfection .

'Yes, that's exactly right. Can you feel it?' Now Felix has dribbled very slightly, not that I mind because I can feel him perfectly placed. Now, if he can master the fore and aft motion we might just get there. I'll give it ten minutes. If it's a no-go, we can do something else. Something that in my experience never fails with a boy who is willing success.

I've denied myself for thirty-six hours. Not a record for me, but in the scheme of things, a long time. Add to that the intense excitement of playing with a new partner whose capabilities I have yet to witness. Then there's the visual element; looking at a beautiful body poised over me, whose rhythmic movements and the very centre of his open buttocks are acting with tingling efficacy on the nerve endings of the underside of the head of my penis. I hadn't realised but he has a small amount of pubic hair, almost invisible due to his naturally fair colouring. And something else. A tiny dribble. This is just too much. He's rocking beautifully.

'Can you keep going Felix?'

I put my hand on him. There was just enough of it to make a difference, what I had done with it, and where I had put it.

With my hands on his hips now, I can control him perfectly, now he is the conduit, the pipeline through which my pleasure, all things being equal, will flow. Two different parts of two bodies combined to create the event. Just a few more seconds Felix. That's all I need from you Felix.

I always know when the end is nigh. That point of no return when you can relax in the certain knowledge that fulfilment is just around the corner.

I told him that it was imminent so he keeps his movements going, pressing down on me all the harder, all the better. There's a depth of understanding in what he's doing, this wonderful lover, Felix.

I move his hips just one more time to make the contact ever more effective. Just one more time, just one more thrust forwards Simon. My perfect boy who could be Ryan, who is Felix.

I can see the face looking down at me, mouth open as look up. It takes a few seconds before we can both smile, his movements slower now because he knows what has happened, relishing the difference between then and now, skin on sliding skin, perfectly placed, promising everything, poised.

Perched above me, I can kiss my lovely boy, while he moves himself in sundry ways.

I am at the open door now, just where he needs me, it would seem by his manipulations. This is a surprise, but a welcome one. This indicates an intent, intuition, a wish, more than a reality. Despite the slippery pole and his welcoming gesture, it will take more than this to go forwards into the unknown.

And then comes the resting, the reflection, the glowing, the heat from two bodies given off as hands and faces come together.

'You're a clever boy Felix. Do you know that?' I whisper.

'No. Am I?'

'Yes you are. And I can be clever too.'


I had sacrificed a pair of pants to the cause and then rolled him onto his back and kissed him on his tummy. That made him draw up his legs, feet almost together like a baby does, knees wide apart.

'What are you going to do Simon?'

'To kiss you everywhere my sweet boy.'

'Would Ryan like that?'

'I think he would, but I haven't asked him yet.'

'You would stop if it tickles wouldn't you?'

'Of course. But it won't tickle I promise.'

The boy nods his head.

Does Sandie know about this? What would her mother say if she knew! I'm told that girls do it for boys, so why can't boys do it for boys too? When Felix realises my intentions, he might recoil in horror at such depraved behaviour. But he might not. My tongue excites him from nipples to navel. That's the track I'm following. And where to go from there Felix? Have you worked it out yet? Are you going to stop me in my tracks? I doubt it.

There's no better way to get to know a boy's body, and exactly what it will do for him, and me. Will he or won't he? Furthermore, can he or can't he?

If he lets me, this will be the first time for Felix, a little love letter from me.

I like Sandie, David's first proper girlfriend. There's a boyish femininity about her I find very endearing, and despite my deep disinterest in girls, interesting, almost in a sexual way. I'm absolutely certain David wants a considerably greater degree of intimacy with her than he's ever likely to get with her chaperone surrounding Sandie with a steel cloak of security. She's very pretty, undoubtedly, with her short-cropped hair and green eyes, shapely mouth, and whatever else an average boy like David might like in a girl. This is the third day at the beach, this time Treyarnon with its fantastic rock pools, more like a swimming pool really. The closest they've got to anything vaguely sexual is holding hands. Sara oversees Sandie's changing into her bikini, all done behind a large beach towel, and the application of sun protection as the girl lies flat as Sara smooths the white cream all over her, yes, bare chest. I suppose her theory is that there's nothing to hide there, but by the time she's run her hands over Sandie's mounds that one day will become horrifying mountains, there is something to see. David's do the same, as do mine, but not quite like that. I'm wondering if Sara enjoyed doing this rather intimate process? I think she did, and I'm sure Sandie did, judging by her face, eyes closed and mouth open. Her hands too, clenched and then unclenched, fingers spread out, digging into the soft warm sand. Oh yes, deep inside there, she's more than capable of a response to David's feelings, with feelings of her own. Perhaps a girl would be far more sensitive, far better at arousing another girl than the average teenaged boy would be, just as a boy knows exactly how to arouse his male chum and take him gently, or otherwise, to the dizzy heights.

'Not even a kiss then David?'

'Just one when we got behind that big rock over there out of sight of my bloody mother for once.'

'That's her job David. To keep you two apart. What was that like?'

'Ok. Quite warm actually.'

'No touching then?'

'I got my hand around her back.'

'And Sandie?'

'Around mine, Maybe a bit lower.'

'Not the only one that likes your bum then David. So was that it?'

'Not quite. We had another kiss. A better one. A bit more touching this time. Bottoms. And our middles.'

'What did that do for you?'

'Got me started a bit.'

'Well, that's progress isn't it?'

'About as near as I going to get. I'm feeling as randy as hell Simon. It's painful. It really is.'

'Oh you poor boy.' I said, gleefully. Actually I can sympathize.

'Don't wander off with Sandie like that again darling. Promise? We're having such a lovely day. It would be a shame to spoil things, wouldn't it darling.'

They been gone about twenty minutes, and out of mummy's sight all that time. I had to gulp somewhat when David and Sandie strolled back. Maybe David got his girl behind one of those massive rock formations while I played sand games all on my own. David was in his smart new Speedo style swimming trunks, and just as well. That's the thing about being a boy, you can't hide it.

I looked at Sandie sitting up with her hands behind her knees. Such an interesting face. I had to smile. David is very aware of what he might be missing and looks rather crossly out to sea, whereas Sandie might quite like it, not too much and not too far, but neither of them are going to get it. Not with mum in close proximity. It's all rather amusing.

I rather feel for both of them. I know one thing. David's lack of success will rebound on me tonight. Every cloud and all that? I shall just have to metamorphose into Sandie won't I? And anyway, I bet I can do a far better job than she would.

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