The Boys of S. Bees
by Rafael Henry
Chapter 4
When we came back to North Lodge after our walk around the school grounds, Francesca had made up the bed in the guest room. I had turned back the covers when we left for roll call at breakfast in the Piggery, and hadn't noticed the sheet. It had been replaced by Francesca. There was something else that was different too. In a tiny glass vase, she had arranged a few flowers, including a pink rose in bud, picked from the garden. I just don't know how to feel now. Pierre looks at the posy of blooms and turns towards me and smiles. We all love Francesca. A woman's intuition perhaps, not to mention sensitivity.
We had had a long walk to the extremes of the school grounds after breakfast, talking about what had happened to us in the last few hours, and what we might do to fill the daylight hours until the night comes again. Pierre was so sweet, asking if he might hold my hand for a while. He felt warm and firm in mine. Now well beyond the point where we might be seen, we face each other, arms around our bodies, and we kiss once again. It's gentle and tentative, but ends with questions in our minds. It's a trigger for both of us, like pistols cocked before firing. I slip my hands inside Pierre's little short trousers as the waistband expands easily to let me. The palms of my hands cover the soft fabric that is not his, but Elijah's, but I will go no further because this is not the time or place. Anyway Pierre loves me to start things off 'inside shorts but outside pants' as he puts it, and I agree with him. This is a time to reflect and enjoy the company of someone you love. This is not the time for heat and sweat, and for breathless sex and mess.
There's a skylark high above us, so high that we can only catch the occasional glimpse of the tiny shape that is singing so loudly for us as we lie here, the long dry strands of grass tickling our bare legs and arms. An hour passes like a few moments, and now I know so much more about Pierre, as he will know about me. I feel his hands again, and run my fingers through his hair and kiss his ears. That smell again…….warm skin that encloses such a loving body.
His arms are squeezing me now and it makes me laugh. His face is over mine, the sun behind it, making it a dark shape looming. I let him fall on my chest as my arms surround him again. We shall rest like this for a few minutes, his breath blowing in my ear. He is my beautiful boy. He is mine, and I am his. Love divine, all loves excelling.
There are several boys, perhaps ten, in the pool this afternoon. Everyone gravitates to this place when the sun shines and there's little else to occupy and absorb restless and energetic boys. Of course I know them all, but not all by name. Some have come prepared, with towels laid out on the grass surrounds, and others, the youngest by the look of them, have not thought any preparation necessary. Pierre has joined in their games as I watch from my deck chair. A whistle sounds above the shouts from excited boys, their bodies gleaming, shining in the afternoon light, some clad, others unclad. The boy chasing the other has stopped running, because he knows what the sound of the whistle means. Pierre is underwater now, but when he surfaces a few seconds later, two Sevens catch him and they all laugh. Such innocent joy. All three are underwater now, lithe shapes that twist and turn, and suddenly they splash to the surface and laugh and shout. It's such a far cry from this coming night when Pierre and I will lie together, hold each other, and express our love for each other and finally to sleep and then wake and wonder.
'This is Jasper. He's in my House.' Pierre says, announcing the presence of his swimming pool playmate.
'Hello Jasper.' I respond with a smile. 'Are you having a fun time?'
'Yes.' says the naked blond-haired Jasper, standing there dripping with his hands in front of him hiding his modesty.
'Can we sit here…….with you?' asks Pierre.
The two boys lie side by side on their tummies, hands to their sides, face to face. They talk quietly with the occasional giggle. They are obviously friends. I pretend to read my book……..a commentary on the Shakespeare play, Henry IV Part Two. Better that than one of the other set books……Samson Agonistes. I'm looking down close to my feet where the boys are lying together, their bodies stretching away from me. They have moved slightly, and Jasper's feet are no longer together, his toes touching Pierre's now. It's a silly game they're playing with more giggling. Jasper's feet go further apart, and I'm looking and noticing. It's a bonus indeed. Note to self.
'Pierre…..do you share a room with Jasper?'
Not that that would bother me, but I am going to ask him.
Ten minutes of this tedious lying down business is enough for Jasper and Pierre. Up they get, and dash off to the water. Their dives into the deep end are elegant, barely disturbing the surface, followed by several confident strokes before they stand facing each other and talk for a few moments. They look back at me and I wave, and they wave back. Perhaps the smiling Jasper is curious. He's a handsome boy.
A rather screechy and probably accident-prone little boy, a Seven by the look of him, has tripped and grazed his knee, but there's no blood. He's been brave about it, but it hurt and he cried poor lad. The Scout supervising the pool, I can't remember her name, dealt with him very sympathetically, which I find heart-warming. I think this is a good school for many reasons, and the kindness we are always shown is one of them.
Tonight, Sunday night, I am showering with Pierre before we retire to our bed……yes, our bed. My brother during one of our 'talks' explained the importance of foreplay. Boys in my experience just want to get on with it, at least I always did, but I thought at the time that Edward made a good point about foreplay. After our evening meal in the Piggery [watery scrambled eggs on thin toast with baked beans] Pierre and I actually discussed what we would do in bed for pleasure. I wanted to tell him about foreplay. He thought it sounded fun, and worth trying. I also told Pierre that we had to be a bit more careful and not leave anything vaguely suspicious on the bottom sheet. I hadn't noticed anything untoward in the morning when we left for breakfast, but Francesca had, hence the changed sheet.
We showered and we managed the foreplay thing, and after I had dried Pierre, and he set off for the bed with his penis leading the way at an interesting and jaunty forty-five degrees angle to his tummy. It's such a pretty little thing when the skin is pulled completely back. In the shower, Pierre told me that the 'wriggle' in the tip was acute this evening and just had to be satisfied. I told him to be patient and all would be well. When I get to the bedside, Pierre is kneeling by the side with his elbows on the edge and his hands together. Pierre is from a Catholic family, and every night he does the same thing apparently. Of course the other boys in his room accept his Christian commitment perfectly and observe some sort of silence……..not perfect, but they make a reasonable effort. When I see him, head bowed, I kneel beside him, leaving a few inches between us. There's silence for a short while before Pierre turns towards me and smiles, his hands still together.
'Did you get through Pierre?' I enquire quietly.
'Of course I did! I always do.' The 'always do' coming as an afterthought.
'Good. So who's getting looked after then?'
'All the people that I love……..and love me. All those people.'
'That's nice. They are very lucky people.'
'Umm. You have to show people that you love them. It's a rule.'
'Is it?'
The smile has gone, and I'm lying some way down on the bed and on my back. The foreplay in the shower has not been forgotten, and is showing. The position that Pierre has managed to get himself into, once I had realized what his intentions were for me, has opened up an opportunity to give him pleasure of a different kind. I'm not nervous about it. What I can see at very close quarters is perfect in my eyes. I glance at the small glass vase containing the simple flower arrangement, and the small but perfect, now opening rosebud.
I'm holding Pierre steady with both hands, fingers spread out and my thumbs pressing gently into the firm muscles. For something I would never have contemplated, this now seems so natural, so obvious and so good.
I'm teasing him with kisses, both sides, before my first touches cause Pierre to shudder. The skin is so smooth as I circle around like some raptor circling in the sky far above our heads, gradually descending in decreasing circles, before the final plunge. I feel Pierre shudder again, several times, as our excitement builds.
We talked about 'consequences' and he knows what to expect, and this time there will be nothing spilt…….nothing to arouse suspicion…..nothing left over for Francesca to see and know about. It has been an astonishing pleasure for both of us….some ten minutes of pure bliss.
But Pierre is not finished, and he is my simple duty now…..the simplest way, and one of the best ways to brings matters to a head. I'm making Pierre wait, but I don't want to frustrate him too long, so when I sense his moment is nigh, I grant him his pleasure. With my head on Pierre's tummy, I can feel the warmth of his skin on my face, and with no warning at all, the milk of human kindness comes forth upon me. A close encounter indeed.
I have no idea how late it is when I wake up to the Bank Holiday Monday morning, the extra day of this long weekend. Somehow Pierre and I are the wrong way around…….my body spooned into his back, with him facing the door in the corner. We have arranged ourselves with him to my right as I'm a left hander, however I am to a degree ambidextrous. I haven't thought about the time, and it's taken me a few seconds to re-orientate my mind to this situation…….feeling my dear sweet sleeping friend as I am hard up against him. Again I notice the scent coming from him and I'm instantly turned on to him. I know he would rather be conscious right now and be aware of what I'm doing to him at this moment. Up on one elbow I look at his sleeping body, the sheet turned down, and I observe the two little egg-shaped forms in the relaxed pocket of loose skin. Carefully I ease my fingers under the perfect forms and notice the weight of them is more than I expected. Cupped now, I begin the gentlest massage, and my eyes move to the smooth intricately shaped sex organ that is at rest beside my hand. From perhaps a little more than an inch in length, it gradually swells. I see almost imperceptibly slight spasms as Pierre's penis fills and stiffens, and within a minute has grown to its full extent, the skinny tip retreating back to reveal the boy's deeply coloured glans. It's miraculous.
There's a knock on the door which is ajar because doors on rooms must never be completely closed. In panic, I glance at the travel clock on the bedside table. Eight thirty five. The voice belongs to Francesca.
'I need to come in boys. You've missed breakfast and roll call. They need to know you're here. Sorry, but I need to speak to you both.'
She looks so typically Italian with her long flowing dark hair and olive skin, and of course the accent to go with it. I quickly cover Pierre with the sheet just as Francesca appears in the doorway. She's smiling of course, as she always is.
'Morning boys. Did you sleep well?' she says in a 'matter of fact' way. I manage the weak reply……..
'Fine thanks Francesca.' as I collapse back on to the pillow making sure Pierre is still covered. I know it's obvious that I am covering his middle bits as Francesca walks purposefully across the floor to pick up a couple of items of our clothing. If she sees anything on a floor, she will pick it up.
'I'll let the Office know that you're still here.' she says, 'and there will be some breakfast things for you in the kitchen in a few minutes, say, at nine o'clock?'
I manage to wake Pierre up and give him the bad news that we have to get up. Neither of us want to, and Pierre, relentlessly priapic, looks tired and disappointed, but there's nothing I can do. I'm disappointed too, because it is our last proper chance to play one, if not two of our games. I had woken up thinking about what we might do, but Francesca's nine o'clock meant nine o'clock.
I can smell bacon cooking in the kitchen. Pierre has forced himself into his school shorts, and sans any undies as Francesca had whipped the borrowed ones away to the washer. He looks beautiful as his expectant and unsatisfied little penis strains at the leash. He's blissfully unaware of course, and probably doesn't care anyway. With no top on, hair all over the place, and looking like that , I'm finding my own arousal hard to fight back. He really is so adorable. But there are plans afoot……..
'There's a walk organised for all the boys this morning. It would be good for you two to get out. Meet outside Big School at the main gate at five to ten.' announces Francesca. Oh. So that's what we're doing today!
Rucksacks are a required item for all boys here, and necessary for all the various trips and excursions we go on. Pierre has raided Eliza's knicker drawer again, and for a pair of Games and Recreation shorts and the boy's swimming pants which apart from the colour are almost indistinguishable from our underwear. Pierre can carry the packed lunches and drinks that Francesca has knocked up in a hurry, and as my rucksack is the larger of the two, I'll transport two towels, one large, and the sun protection, a roll of raffia to lie on, and my copy of Samson Agonistes. I can't ignore the slim Milton volume any longer, as tedious as the prospect is, as my first English paper is next Tuesday. Right now I know diddly squat about Samson and his agonies.
Getting our ablutions done with, plus five minutes on the bidet and showering is all a bit of a rush, but we pitch up to join the others near the main gate two minutes before the meeting time at ten o'clock. To the right of the group of about twelve boys is Jasper who steps forward to greet his friend Pierre with a big smile. My goodness he's a fine figure of a boy, tanned legs, and like Pierre, wearing a pair of white Games mini-shorts, the ordinary navy top, and as the weather doesn't look that promising, his duck-egg blue jumper with the dark blue line along the 'V' at the neck. What with the white short socks and white trainers, his gorgeous mop of blond hair, he looks like he's come straight from a fashion shoot. As the two greet each other, I notice that he's a couple of inches taller than Pierre, but has the same slight build as his friend. An odd feeling of unease goes through me. The other boys take no notice of us, but chatter on excitedly, no doubt keen to begin the march through the village of Lympstone, and on to the path that follows most of the railway line from Exeter to the seaside town of Exmouth along the eastern bank of the River Exe. The leader of the group is my smiling Geography Master, Don Timms, a nice fit young bloke that since his arrival this year, has become a big hit with the boys. He has two Sevens either side of him, no doubt keen to appear to the other boys as favourites of his, and hoping to walk all the way there with him . Good luck to them.
You can't walk three abreast on much of the path, so the group has naturally divided itself into four group, the last one being myself, Pierre and Jasper. I'm feeling the odd one out here, but perfectly happy to see Pierre and Jasper re-united and clearly enjoying each other's company. It's obvious that they are used to, and comfortable with each other judging by the amount of surreptitious touching going on. I'm walking behind them, assessing the differences between the two boys. My guess is that Jasper leads in their relationship, and Pierre follows. In their jolly conversation, some of it deliberately inaudible to me, Jasper seems to be taking the initiative. The thought has occurred to me that Pierre might recount some of the more 'interesting' events of the last two days to his friend. At one point, Jasper looks back over his shoulder at me, suggesting that I've been, at the very least, mentioned in their conversation. I imagine that Jasper is curious to know what his friend has been up to.
With rucksacks on every boy's back, there's a limited view of the figures in front of me as the path runs alongside the railway line again about half a mile from Exmouth Station. The view to our right is stunning, looking west across the ever-widening estuary to the village of Starcross and the tiny shape of Isambard Kingdom Brunel's Pumping House that powered the historic Victorian Atmospheric Railway. There's a stiff breeze blowing several colourful sails along merrily. It looks like a north westerly which means any wind on the beach will be off the land and tending to flatten the sea. Good. My plan is to distance ourselves on the beach from the others if I can, and find a spot along the expanse of sand towards the rocky outcrop to the east. It will be nicely sheltered there, but I'll need to square it with Don Timms first. He'll want to keep the whole group together, but as I'm quite senior, he hopefully won't mind us distancing ourselves a tad.
The view over the estuary isn't the only rewarding sight on offer. I'm looking at how differently the two boys walk, Jasper's being a little more forthright, if that's the right word, which fits his personality I suppose. Whatever the subtle differences between them are, they make a stunning addition to the landscape, marching along, their long coltish legs topped by taut white over taut white over pink flesh. I'm aroused by the prospect of discovering later on, on the beach, some more detail about Jasper. Again, that uneasy feeling creeps up in my mind. Has Pierre just used me this weekend? Is it just curiosity on his part? I've fallen for him and frankly I'm jealous of his closeness with Jasper. Watching the two boys together is making me realise just how much I love him, and it's a very odd feeling I'm getting in the pit of my stomach…….a whole mixture of emotions.
Don Timms is leading the brisk walk, flanked by his two excited acolytes, and Jasper and Pierre wouldn't be doing what they are doing if Mr Timms could see them. Pierre has his left hand settled on Jasper's bottom, and for a few moments he's been wiggling his middle finger between his friend's buttocks. I'm sure it's not the first time he's done that. The boys are putting on a show for my benefit, that's pretty clear, and I can't say I'm not enjoying it. Now Jasper's shoe lace has come undone, so we stop for him to re-tie it. Pierre is looking at me, smiling. I know that look of his. But I have my eyes on his friend, bent double in front of me, with his mini shorts which are cunningly a little see-through, stretched tight across his neat little rump. When Jasper stands up again, he smiles at me. At school we call that kind of behaviour……tarting. I'm told by Freddie that the younger boys will always make the first move on an older boy they would like to be friends with. It's the way of communicating that you are available. I was certainly guilty of tarting many times, when a particular boy took my fancy.
I'm smiling at both of the boys as if to say…….I know exactly what you two are up to, and I'm faintly amused……..in one way, but not in another.
Exmouth has seen better days, and it has a reputation for being rather a poor town heavily reliant on visitors who may be down for the day from Exeter, or for a week's holiday from elsewhere. Devon is universally popular, but more so perhaps with folk from Wales, the West Midlands and the North West. With a chilly breeze and overcast skies, I imagine the beach will not be too busy today. Don has opted for the route to the beach through the town centre, then along Douglas Avenue, and then down to the quiet eastern end of Exmouth beach. There are no distractions there, and he can organise a few games to amuse his boys, but not us please. He's agreed that Pierre, Jasper and I can do our own thing, provided that we check in with him every hour or so. Perfect.
As Pierre and Jasper change into their swimming kit, my curiosity is nicely satisfied with regard to Jasper's anatomy. He's made quite sure I seen it and he has every reason to be proud of it. I'm not going to bathe this morning as the agonized Samson is my priority, so I can observe as and when there's something to observe, like now. Jasper is a circumcised boy with the scar some way down the shaft, which I'm observing is a little longer than it would be at complete rest, no doubt due to the excitement of the moment. So that's the front bit.
Their bodies are an amusing mixture of shades of pink to brown. There are whitish ankles and feet, nicely tanned legs way more than half way up thighs, then a paler bit where the sexy downundie shorts have given way to even shorter Games and Recreational shorts, and finally more white where the sun has not reached fair skin. We're a good hundred yards away from the others, who I notice are changing too, with several white bottoms on view, and a couple of older boys trying to hide their bits, as they should do of course from the curious smaller boys, with their towels. No such modesty from Pierre and Jasper who is taking his time to get himself organised, and as I'm sitting, he's standing almost directly over my head. Pierre's attributes, although modest size-wise, are perfectly formed to my taste. Jasper is a bigger boy, at least he is right now. He's showing off, just for me I'm sure. As he fiddles with his bathing trunks, turning them inside out and back again a few times, he shoots me glances every few seconds just to make sure I've registered, and I certainly have. He's clearly finding the situation interesting, and the fact that I'm taking notice is encouraging him all the more. He's a long way from a full erection, and goodness knows what that would look like, but neither is he flaccid either. When he finally gets himself into his trunks, I'm impressed with the result as the tight trunks impress into his buttocks at the back, and hold his penis vertically, almost up to the waistband, at the front. Nice.
There's something else I haven't mentioned. Last night I asked Pierre about the exact nature of his friendship with Jasper whom he mentioned in passing. It turns out that mutual masturbation was just the start of things for the boys that shared a room with three others and whose beds were adjacent. That rather hints at where Pierre's sexual epicentre might be?
As the two boys venture down the beach, they are no doubt contemplating the ghastly truth that the water is, despite it being calm and almost June, uncomfortably cold. As I expected they don't last long in the water, and within ten minutes they are back up the sandy beach and dripping, hands held together in front of their chests. Pierre has grabbed his towel and puts it around his shoulders, shivering gently. Jasper stands there looking at me with a 'I need help' look on his face.
Pierre smiles as I dry off Jasper with my towel. Standing on the raffia matting, he's already organised his white underpants and ready to step into them. With Jasper's swimming trunks now discarded, I'm gently patting his shoulders and back dry with the towel. I'm leaving his middle until last, and when I get there, he's not entirely in control. With his legs apart, I can easily reach in between, and then around the tightened sack, and finally around his very adequate example of boyhood. He looks down as I carefully, but quickly dry him. It's a beauty and just like the rest of him………and utterly ripe. I have done exactly what he wanted me to do.
I know I've been set up for this. All that giggling and things said behind the palms of hands as we walked the path from Lympstone to Exmouth this morning, and then the glances behind to see if I have noticed. No doubt Pierre has said just enough about our weekend to arouse Jasper's curiosity, and not just his curiosity no doubt. I can just imagine how the conversation went………
'Did you! How long did it take? Who was first? How much? Are you glad you did? Do you think he would? Shall I ask him? No, you ask him. Promise?'
I wish I had set my alarm this morning. As things stand, both Pierre and I have missed out on morning essentials thanks to Francesca's untimely intervention, and thoughts of what might have been were in my head as the boys pulled off their swimming briefs to give me my next glimpse of Jasper and all that potential. I'm standing in the clothes I arrived at the beach in, unlike the boys. Pierre has the large towel wrapped around his shoulders, and I used the smaller one at his request, to dry Jasper off. It's a chilly breeze now, and the cloud cover has thickened making the air decidedly chilly.
Now Pierre and Jasper are lying on the raffia matting with the large towel around them. Pierre pats the space between their two bodies, inviting me to join them. When I do, I immediately feel the warmth of the boys either side of me. I'm lying on my right side and Jasper is facing me. His closed hands are together against my chest. As he moves closer to me, my natural response to his signal is to put my right arm around his bare back. It's not a sexual gesture as such.
'Are you cold?'
'Umm.' is the reply, and he moves closer as if to affirm my holding of him.
Pierre's hands have slipped under my shirt and he's touching warm skin. Now he's pulling me onto my back and with some fumbling around my tummy, I suspect that what I'm wearing is about to be loosened. Pierre whispers a few words into my ear, so I turn my head towards Jasper's. I'm just following Pierre's orders as my arms are around the shoulders of the boys, and I'm being directed towards Jasper's mouth. The kisses are brief and little more than touches of lips upon lips, but sweetness itself, as my fingers push through the mop of half-dried hair. Pierre's fingers slip up my thigh and up through the opening of my only remaining defence. As Jasper kisses me again, I feel another invasive hand. The boys are up on their elbows now, and my submission is willing and complete as I take both Pierre in my left hand, and Jasper in my right. It's his that my mind is concentrating on, and in a small corner of my consciousness there is a pang of disloyalty to Pierre. He feels warm and firm as my fingers grip him hard, as I work my hand slowly from root to tip. It's there that I feel my thumb slide over the slippery emission that is escaping now. It's his turn to plant his mouth on mine, and there's an urgency here. I turn my head and press my face hard into the boy's side and smell the sea on his warm skin. Jasper is taking on the responsibility for my pleasure, as Pierre's soft hand caresses and coaxes my body forwards. I'm sure Pierre has planned all this.
The boys wait, as the skilful Jasper delays yet again , and I'm breathless now in hope. What beautiful agony this is, but it will be a miracle if I can hold on. I can't.
It's a simultaneous suspiration from three boys together as now I can let go, and I do.
It's a wonderful release as I feel the flood pass through me, and splash out onto warm flesh and young hands. Jasper says something but I can't hear it clearly.
I had arranged the bath towel around us perfectly, and now my young friends are together. I know now that this is how it should be. This is where their love lies, with each other, at this moment on this beach. I feel their bodies as they play, and when their playing is rudely interrupted, we lie still, arms enclosing. This is their loving, unfulfilled for the time being, and not mine to take from them.
Frankly I didn't have the resolve to stop the boys doing what they had decided to do to me under the bath towel. I have no idea if there were any passers-by while they had their way with me, not that I could have done much about it anyway. I think I was far too gone. I was in seventh heaven throughout the whole experience, and utterly unable to plan for the consequences. As things turned out, both Pierre and Jasper saw to that. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
I heaved the excited Jasper over my body so that he was next to his friend, so that they might resolve their own problems under the bath towel, with me, still gently throbbing, up against Jasper's back with the palm of my hand nicely parked on his buttocks. But no more than two minutes later, with the boys warmed nicely, I heard voices approaching. Looking out from under the towel I saw two Eight boys walking on the sand towards us. I leave the boys resembling a long bundle, wrapped as they are, but thankfully still now. We have visitors.
I look up at the arrivals, dressed in their navy polo shirts and bathing briefs, heads covered with the school regulation soft pale blue cotton sun hats in the chill.
'Mr Timms wants you lot.' says the taller of the two boys, James something I think his name is. 'There's a rounders game starting. You'd better hurry.'
It was around two o'clock when we finally gave up on the weather and formed up for the hike back to S. Bees. As on the outward journey, Pierre, Jasper and I brought up the rear of the column, with Jasper just in front of Pierre and I, which presents me with a good opportunity to talk to Jasper in some detail. I want to know exactly what his friendship with Pierre consists of, when they became friends, and how they amuse themselves out of the classroom. But I need Pierre's permission first……..
'Do you mind if I talk to Jasper?' I ask, turning to Pierre on my left.
'What about?'
'About you two. I'm interested.'
'Do you want me to tell him?'
Pierre leaves my side, and steps forward quickly to catch Jasper up, who then after a very brief conversation with Pierre, falls back to join me. I'm going to start our 'chat' with caution, and sees how things develop?
Jasper is very forthcoming about his friendship with Pierre, so much so that I will need to keep him in check. There are also hints of details that are making me realise that the physical aspect of their relationship is quite sophisticated which is exciting my curiosity, with several references to the 'games' they play. There's so little privacy at S. Bees that I can't imagine any 'games' would not be noticed. But anything of a sexual nature should grow out of an affection and respect for each other, so my questions begin at the beginning.
'So Jasper, what brought you two together?'
'It was the very first day here. You know that talk we all get….on the first evening after Tea?'
Indeed I do know. None of us know what's going to happen or where we will be on that first dreadful night. Jasper continues…….
'When we all sat on the floor to listen to Sir, he was next to me. I remember him looking at me and smiling. I was so scared, and that smile was a massive help. I knew that if I could be friends with this boy, everything would be alright. It was the only thing that made any sense at that moment. I felt so lonely and afraid. I kept wanting to cry. At the end of the talk when we stood up not knowing quite what to do next, he looked at me. He could see how scared I was, and so was he I suppose. I'll never forget what he said to me………'Don't worry, I won't leave you'.
Don't worry, I won't leave you.
We were in different rooms to start with, but whenever we could meet, we did, like at meal times and breaks.'
'So what was it about Pierre you liked?'
'Everything. He was just so nice and kind. And…..'
'And…what Jasper? What else?'
'You know what, don't you? I know you do.' he says smiling broadly.
'I probably do know Jasper, but can't you tell me yourself?'
'We talked about lots of things when we were allowed to walk around the grounds alone. Then one afternoon Pierre asked me if I liked how he looked, because he liked how I looked. He said if I had another best friend he would be very jealous. I told him I liked how he looked very much. Then he said I was very good looking, and of course I said I thought he was too. He asked me how he could thank me for being his friend, and I said it should be me thanking him. It was then that our hands touched. He immediately said he was sorry, but I asked him why he was sorry. He had done something nice. Our hands touched again, and then he held mine…..both of my hands in his. I could see he was almost crying. When I saw that it set me off too. We lay down on the grass and howled our eyes out for five minutes. It seemed to release all the tension from that first week at school. Everybody had been kind, but it was still an awful shock to be away from home at night. When we had finished crying, he put his arm right around my shoulder and back. I put mine around him. In the days and weeks later, on our walks, knowing we were out of sight, the same thing happened. Then one evening he asked me if I would be upset if he kissed me, because he wanted to. I told him I wanted to kiss him too. It seemed so silly and girly, but we kissed and kissed and kissed. It was beautiful. A few days later he told me that he loved me…….and something else too.
'What was that Jasper?'
'He told me again that he would never leave me…….not in his mind. He said that we might be physically separated, but not in our minds. It was a beautiful thing for anyone to say to their friend.'
Indeed so. And then there's more………
'So you had found a way to express your affection for each other……by putting your lips on his?'
'Yes, we did that whenever we could. We both liked it, and the feel of each other's hands on our bodies. We both noticed that things happened to our bodies when we held each other. We liked that feeling. It affected us in other ways too. One afternoon he asked me if I did it in bed at night. I wanted to tell him that I did, but I was embarrassed to admit it. Most of the boys were doing it quite openly. Then he laughed and told me he did it every night. That broke that particular bit of ice. When I looked down at the front of his shorts, I knew how he was feeling. I had been hiding it the best I could up to that point. I didn't understand much about sex. We started talking about it, and then a couple of weeks later we began experimenting with each other, doing stuff we wanted to do. At first he asked me to feel his bottom. I had told him I thought it was a very nice one. He asked me to feel inside his shorts, but outside his pants, and then actually inside his pants. It was very easy with our new uniform which was quite loose. When his hand slipped inside my shorts, it was the best feeling I had ever had…..and he said it was the best thing he'd ever felt. That made us laugh. He took my hand and guided it inside his pants. His felt wonderful too….so hard and warm. Then we looked at both of them together, side by side, like boys do behind the bushes. He was annoyed that mine looked bigger than his. I told him that his would work just as well as mine does. He wanted to know how I did it, and was it the same way he did it. I showed him, and he showed me how he wanted me to do it for him. Of course I did it for him, and then he did mine. It has never interfered with how we feel about each other and how thankful we both are that we have come together. One day we will live together all the time. One day we will.'
He may be right, and I hope he is. One thing I know now is that I have no right to interfere with this friendship. But I need to know why Pierre ever agreed to spend this weekend with me?
'To say thank you for being his Sunday Brother. He loves going on the coach to Exeter with you. Going there means a lot to him. He's a Catholic, remember?'
'Is that the only reason?'
'No. He loves you……..in his own way. He wants to please you and…..'
'And?'
'You know. All the other stuff. He's really into it.'
'And you too?'
'Yes. We've learnt stuff……you know, found out a few things…….things boys can do together. But it's difficult round here. You know…..there's nowhere to go.'
This has to be an unusual situation…..two kids their age conducting, or trying to conduct an active love-life. Frankly I am amazed at what Jasper has been telling me, albeit in slightly veiled terms, what they are up to in bed, or more likely at the far end of the playing fields.
I can't say that I'm not interested in what Jasper has been hinting at, and my mind is racing forwards an hour to the possibilities. Meanwhile as the path widens, Pierre can rejoin Jasper and I, who has been walking a few yards in front of us. Now the two boys are sharing a few thoughts that I'm not privy to. I imagine that Pierre would like to know what we've been talking about for the last ten minutes, and it looks like Jasper is telling him, judging by the giggling going on between them, but I'm deliberately keeping well out of it. If I know Pierre, he's hatching a plan.
Now I have the boys either side of me. There's fifty yards now between us and the main group led by Don Timms with his pretty little acolytes surrounding him. With the others at a safe distance ahead, and when my boys put arms around my middle, I respond likewise. It's when Pierre's hand drops a little lower than the waistband of my shorts, followed by Jasper's, and then lower still, I know something is going on. For me it's a delicious sensation feeling the two sets of buttocks moving together on my palms as we walk. I'm sensing foreplay at work here.
Our Scout at North Lodge is the lovely young Italian woman, Francesca, and I know her working hours are seven in the morning until four in the pm. I'm estimating our arrival back at the School to be about four o'clock. Good timing. I'm looking at Jasper as I put the idea to the boys………
'Pierre has to collect a few things from North Lodge before he goes back to his House. You boys don't need to report back until six. Jasper, would you like to come with us, or make your own way back?'
There are smiles and nods of heads at my suggestion, and then a silence with just the sound of feet on gravel, and the strong breeze through the bramble bushes either side of us. The tide has risen on the Exe, which looks grey now, with small white waves whipped up by the brisk north westerly. The silence lasts a full two minutes before Pierre quietly asks………
'Can we still use the guest room shower? We're all salty.'
Sea bathing in England does leave a salty residue on the skin and in the hair. There's the shower in the ensuite bathroom accessed from the guest room. It will be my last chance in all probability to see my boys as I'd like to see them together…….au naturel. I know that sharing my bed in the future with Pierre is no longer a possibility, and I have to accept that any attempt on my part to establish a long-term relationship with him is out of the question. It wouldn't be fair on Jasper. Their relationship is very special, and I'm not the kind of person who would want to mess that up. Life can be complicated enough without adding more difficulties and choices that would have to be made. No, I shall enjoy the moment and leave the stage gracefully.
The boys are walking just in front of me as we approach North Lodge. The little Fiat 500 car that Francesca drives is not in front of the house which tells me she's already left, and there are no other cars there either. Great.
The boys insist that I should undress with them before we all use the shower. Pierre make a very sexy meal of it, and when they are naked, they strip me off. Inevitably, comparisons are made……..modest [if I'm honest], followed by somewhat larger, with me surpassing Jasper by a short head. In my early years at S. Bees I've seen plenty of young boys' erect penises, and thinking back as I am for a moment here, I'm amazed at how little boys often have very long willies. I remember an otherwise handsome Swiss boy who was embarrassed by the small size of his dick. He said that Swiss boys all have small penises. Can that be true? I doubt it. Apparently it is true.
The boys squeezed themselves into the shower cubicle and began what I realize is the start of their performance, insisting that I should be the audience. As performances go, it's rather good, with the boys all lathered up, literally and metaphorically, and my view is through a clear glass door. Following rather basic body and hair rinsing, there's kissing with hands behind heads, general waggling of elongated penises, and palms feeling chests, tummies, bottoms and upper thighs, and other erogenous zones. When Jasper turns Pierre around, the palms of his hands are on the white tiled wall. Jasper turns towards me, with a grin on his face, and his hand between Pierre's legs. Slowly he moves his fingers between Pierre's buttocks. Pierre helps by pulling his buttocks further apart. With his penis in hand, fully erect, Jasper places it between Pierre's bottom cheeks and begins to feign penetration. Now I get it.
As on the beach, I dry each boy in turn, and in the same way. Their ardour cooled, hopefully only temporarily, it's a chance to admire them once more like this. They paint a wonderful picture as they sit together on the end of the bed, knees wide apart, and I am invited to taste their bodies. Kneeling before my boy-gods, that's what I am doing, as my tongue feels smooth flesh, my tongue and lips discovery the sexual forms of a boy. Why didn't Nigel ever want me to do this for him?
The boys are lying back on the bed now, side by side, their feet still planted on the floor……..but not now. There's another invitation, and it's from Pierre. This is perfect flesh, this is truly erotic flesh teased by flicking tongues wetted by saliva, probed into flesh, soon to be parted flesh, widened in anticipation…….a body prepared for sex.
Of course I want to assist. With Jasper lying full length on his back on the firm double bed, and Pierre's back against his lover's chest, knees apart and legs raised, I can prepare the sweet boy, and I do so with the greatest of pleasure. His erection has subsided, mostly, but as I begin the anointment service, kneeling at the end of the bed and carefully covering the smooth external skin around the anus with one finger tip, I notice he's recovering his poise in small incremental jumps. It's an interesting sight as the pretty little organ gathers pace until, as I ease past the slowly relaxing muscle a half inch or so, it's fully developed as his foreskin slips back quite naturally. I'm mindful of the patient Jasper, who is hard and eager to begin the task at hand. I lean forward and run my tongue along Pierre's stiff shaft until I can tease the underside of my sweetheart's glans………and now is the time.
With Pierre on his knees and astride Jasper, he carefully lowers his body onto Jasper's lubricated penis, which I am holding in readiness. Again, Pierre's erection subsides as he makes the first tentative attempts to dock onto Jasper.
Pierre was always in control of the process, and when it's complete, and the boy lies back on Jasper's chest again, there's nothing of the buried penis to be seen. With Jasper's raised legs, I can easily reach and fondle the boy's balls, hard and tightened now in anticipation, and then sliding my finger gently along the perineal raphe down and just into the anus. Jasper's hips begin to move in an ever-increasing rhythmic and penetrative bucking. I watch as Pierre's erection immediately returns, bouncing off his tummy as his hands grip Jasper's sides. This cannot last long………not like this. There's noise too…….lots of it, and I would defy any boy to hold off his climax for long.
Both boys are breathing hard, and I think Pierre is almost crying with the intensity of Jasper's thrusts, and the full length of his cock, jerking his partner's body back and forth. I can barely breathe watching this. Surely the end is coming soon?
I thought that Pierre had ejaculated more or less at the same time that Jasper has inside him. He hasn't……..but a long string of clear viscous matter has emerged from Pierre's silky and very beautiful penis. Jasper has indeed finished and is breathing hard at the beginning of his recovery. The boys are still coupled, and as Jasper carefully withdraws, he's still as hard as a bone. He lies by Pierre's side, squeezing the length of his penis dry, and into the tissue I've provided for him. I'm checking Pierre for any leakage and there is some, a trickle as it wends its way down the perineum and onto the towel I had placed under Jasper to protect the sheet and avoid awkward questions from Francesca. This is a first for me, and I'm shocked and excited beyond my imagination. I'm utterly ready for sex. I look at Pierre and his face is pink, sweaty and expressionless, but I'm going to have him now.
He's on his back and I position myself over him and between his legs which are raised and wide apart. I know he hasn't come……not properly. Jasper is aware too and wants to help. He can by gently masturbating his friend as I do what I need to do. I want this to be a good memory for Pierre and I, perhaps a talking point for those times at the back of the old coach to Exeter, assuming he still wants me as his Sunday Brother.
What with my own natural lubrication, the remains of Jaspers pre-ejaculate, and more of the gel, it's a very easy entry despite my slightly superior dimensions compared with Jasper. Pierre gives me a very satisfied exhalation of breath as I fill him completely, pushing into him as hard as I can. A strange desire to dominate comes over me, but I quickly control it. It's not something I should be thinking about.
Supported on my arms and above Pierre, I can watch progress as I work back and forth into Pierre. I'm adding and subtracting numbers in my head to distract my mind and delay the orgasm that is surely coming, but not, please, before Pierre's.
Pierre suddenly pushes Jasper's hand away. I know why. Pierre wants it from me. All eyes are on Pierre's silky length, waiting. Pierre turns his head to one side, breathing noisily. It's about to happen now, surely?
What a beautiful sight it is, most in one violent contraction, and the rest in mini spasms, followed by a sweet little dribble, and all of it in separate puddles as his pale penis finally settles onto his sun-browned tummy. I had almost forgotten about my pleasure which had happened of course moments after Pierre's contractions and thrilling ejaculation. One final thrust into the boy brings me to a finish as well, my body rigid and fully buried, as I feel my sperm rush through me and into the warmth of the blessed Pierre. It is long lasting and bliss indeed. It will be quite impossible to ever forget these moments.
We three boys are lying together, much as we were on the beach three hours ago. Thankfully there is no evidence to alarm Francesca, thanks to Jasper's tongue and mine to a lesser extent, and a second use of the shower this afternoon. There was much giggling as our tongues tickled Pierre's tummy, poking the tips into his curious but delightful little 'innie'. I would have been very uncertain about tasting any boy's semen, but not in Pierre's case. It seems appropriate somehow. I have no idea if I'll ever do such a thing again, but after everything else, it feels like a final thanksgiving, and a loving closure…….for surely that's what it is.
I've insisted that the boys get dressed properly just in case someone turns up early or unexpectedly. There might be three boys together in a room, not particularly suspicious in itself, and we'll have clothes on. Unless we get caught out at a critical moment, being dressed doesn't prevent basic sexual activity, not that I'm expecting any more. I happen to find the boys just as attractive in clothes as I do out of them……….mostly. Having the sleepy Pierre and Jasper either side of me on the bed with my arms around both of them just in their knickers and polo shirts is a joy. Despite my insistence, we didn't quite get into our shorts. Never mind, because this is bliss too.
It's a good half hour since you know what happened, and Pierre, despite his very relaxed and sleepy state is complaining. I know exactly what turns this boy on and I've had the palm of my hand on his soft fabric-covered bottom for a good ten minutes now, and most of that time he's been wriggling about. I can't see the front of his pants but it's a fair bet that he's fully recovered, and as he adjusts his position slightly, he's making me aware of it. Both boys have their heads against the side of my chest, with Pierre's hand on my tummy.
A glance at the bedside clock tells me we have about forty minutes before the boys need to report back to their House. Pierre sees me and has a question…..
'How long have we got?'
'About half an hour.' I reply, whispering in his ear. Pierre is fiddling in his pants.
'You're not serious…….are you?'
He smiles and I know he is serious.
I have my arm around Jasper and I'm liking it, and by the looks of things, so is he. I have a few words for him……
'I think Pierre wants you.'
With me playing piggy-in-the-middle, Jasper needs to haul himself over me to attend to his friend. I can assist of course, and as he lies next to Pierre in the space I've made for him, the two boys kiss gently. What I think will happen next will be a fitting end.
I notice Pierre's beautiful hands, as I watch them caress Jasper's shoulders. My hands are elsewhere on Jasper's body, as one boy brings another to orgasm in a way that will leave no trace. Nothing, please , on that navy blue polo shirt! That would never do…….it's so obvious.
Pierre's sexual suspiration is erotic enough, but as his sighs ebb away, Jasper is there to join his mouth with his friend's and share in the boy's pleasure. Not a trace please, and as Jasper lies back, there is none, and when Pierre completes his work, there still is none. These are indeed clever boys. As for me, I'm left with the sights and sounds of two boys in love with each other's minds and bodies, when sexual fulfilment is the perfect expression of their feelings for each other. There's nothing I need at this moment more than this.
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