The Five
by Rafael Henry
Chapter 3
The other Four arrived as planned, and I saw little of them whilst they were on their various adventures most of which were cooked up the night before. Uncle Quentin took a back seat but was willing to be various quirky background characters in the plots, a role he took on with enthusiasm and inventiveness. Many of their adventures involved the dinghy kept just above the cove, and was the means of reaching, on calm days, the tiny island about a hundred yards off the beach, known as Kirrin Island, borrowing Uncle Quentin's surname. On rare occasions I got involved, along with the dog Timmy, but most of the time I was busy in the garden, stripped down to my shorts.
I had been working for Quentin that summer about a week. I had noticed that he would join me in the garden, sitting in a deck chair with a book. I don't think he did much reading. One particularly warm morning the Five were off somewhere on one of their 'adventurous' jaunts making a general nuisance of themselves probably. I had been directed to weed out the raspberry canes, which involves a good deal of grovelling on your knees as you try to locate the roots of the plant as they run underground and sending up their unwanted prickly shoots. The penny had already dropped as regards Quentin's motives. The garden was a stage on which I had been put as the sole performer. I liked the man who had been very kind to me, and I had no objection to him taking pleasure in watching me at work. One of the first things I did when I arrived for work was to take off my tee shirt in preparation for the warm work ahead. By early August I had a good tan having spent a large proportion of my time out in the open air, as boys would do out of choice. Quentin remarked one morning on the very white patch of my skin just above my shorts when they had slipped down a little…..
'You look lovely this morning darling. What a shame about that frightfully pale skin of yours.'
I looked down to see the offending 'pale' skin that my shorts had hidden from the sun's view….and Uncle Quentin's.
'Oh yes. It's not very nice is it. Would you mind if I……..?' I asked, as if butter wouldn't melt. I think there's a little of the exhibitionist in most of us…….certainly in me. Becoming fully aware of my sexuality was an exciting prospect. I had sensed a feeling of power over Quentin, rather perversely.
'No, that would quite alright'. Quentin agrees. Yes, such a good idea. Even things up. No one is going to see…….apart from Uncle Quentin that is.
I always used sun protection, even back then, when awareness of the potential danger to our health was less at the forefront of sun worshipper's minds. That part of me, unused to exposure to the sun, required particularly careful management. To his credit, I suppose, Quentin never made any attempt to touch me, not then or at any time subsequently. He loved boys……..how they looked, how they behaved, how they thought, and what they liked doing together. I became used to his presence, and totally unaware of being acutely observed as I went about my tasks, which involved all sorts of body movements and positions that must have exposed my most intimate parts for extended periods of time. Weeding requires being on 'all fours' usually with my back to Quentin. I was the 'crouching boy' garden sculpture for him, only an animate one. There was no doubt, although I wasn't consciously admitting it to myself, that I was teasing Quentin. I sincerely hope he enjoyed it. Towards the end of the holidays, one morning a month or so after I had started to work for him, his curiosity got the better of him. We were standing in his living room.
'Darling [he always referred to me as 'darling'], do you ever get…….excited?'
'Yes, sometimes. It depends on what it is really.'
'I mean……..in a certain way…….in that way that boys do.' he says, exaggerating the key words.
'You mean…….?
'Yes, that's exactly what I mean. So……do you?'
'Yes, sometimes, when I'm thinking about it.'
'Would that be….in your bed darling?'
'Yes.'
'And do things happen……for you? Nice things?'
'Yes.'
I knew of course exactly what he was driving at. At this point I'm becoming aroused as I'm aware of what he wants me to do for him, and I touch the front of my shorts. Quentin is becoming positively breathless.
'Would you….for me……now? I imagine you to be rather beautiful in that regard. You must know that I shall never touch you……..rest assured. Do you think you could manage something?'
'I can try…….if you really want me to? Would you mind if I……..I mean…..I might not be able to help it………..if it goes too far. Would that matter?'
'No of course not. Do you think you might manage to……..go that far darling?'
I could but try?
I thought about it for a few moments and decided that discretion was the better part of valour and it wasn't any skin off my nose to please him. I slipped off my shorts, and with nothing underneath to worry about, I folded them carefully, and laid them on the arm of the easy chair Quentin was sitting in. I started with the rather oily sun protection I used, anointing my genitals, and then gently working the solution into the folds. The thought of being observed in this way, and the sensations I was giving myself, soon bears fruit in the form of my hardening penis. I have to admit, in considerable hindsight, that I was aroused by his interest in me, in that way. The skin that covers my now fully excited penis has become interestingly mobile, and I'm ready to proceed. Standing, literally, between the feet of my Master, I make it last for long as I'm able to put off my inevitable climax. Quentin recognizes the signs of a boy who is about to bring forth the fruit of his loins. He leans forward, just as I push my hips forward to assist the propulsion of what little I might produce. I shut my eyes as the moment approaches. With a series of jerking movements, I am overwhelmed by the most extreme pleasure that boys who have just crossed the threshold of puberty can know. I waited for the familiar passage of warmth to flow through the distended tube that I am offering up to Quentin, and gasped in exultation as it reached the livid tip and out into the world.
It takes time for my orgasm to completely subside, by which time Quentin has sunk back into his chair, the top of my index finger glistening with my own moisture, his eyes wide and his breath quickened. Whatever I have done, I have done it well and true. With him at least, that performance was never repeated. Thinking about it now, years later, I smile, but I am not aroused in the slightest at the memory.
At the end of the holidays, Quentin gave me a book, inscribed within…….'With thanks………Quentin.' It always makes me smile when I turn the first blank page and see his succinct words of gratitude written in turquoise ink. It was a copy of John Betjeman's collected reflections and descriptions……….'Cornwall'. I shall never regret giving that good man who just liked boys, something to remember me by. No harm was done.
For the purposes of their fantasy adventures, The Five had renamed Treboys, to Kirrin Cottage. Quentin would always release me from duties if I was required by the Five to perform some function, which was usually rowing them out to Kirrin Island. I was experienced at handling all sorts of boats, so a twelve foot clinker built skiff posed no problem at all. I would be towards the bow end with an oar in each hand, legs apart to give me good purchase, as the others took up places in front of me at the stern, except Dick who always like to be crouched up at the bow with his head over the sharp end looking down at the water as we cut through it. Julian would smile at the view he was afforded up my brief shorts, my private parts on view no doubt, as I never wore those stupid underpants on non-school days. I didn't realise at the time that I was so visible. Julian told me later. George, according to Julian, was very interested in what I had to offer too, making no pretence about having a good look. Dick couldn't see my unintended display, and wanted to know where the mackerel were hiding, and Anne just looked embarrassed whilst gently patting Timmy who no doubt was wondering what on earth we are up to this time. And so it all went on.
Those days would end with a sea bathe at the cove, sometimes as late as eight in the evening, an activity that relieved the need for too much washing. Salt water acts as an effective antiseptic for a group of young and very gay, in all its meanings, campers!
Sleeping arrangements varied, apparently, quite randomly. When I was 'sleeping over' in the tent my default position would naturally be next to Julian. Had I been adjacent to the very lovely Dick with the very lovely smooth and Classical sculptured dick, I'm sure I would have been indiscreet, which may have upset him. I never put it to the test. I'm sure the dutiful Anne would not have accepted my body next to hers. The complication was George who is as we know, a girl by gender, but a boy in spirit. Normally, Julian was between me and George. Then Anne, whose 'mothers and fathers' arrangement with Dick was unmovable, had the solution to the problem.
'Why can't George go between Julian and Alf? Then George won't feel left out.'
'Why can't George go in with Anne?' argues Julian, anxious to keep our arrangement intact.
'Because Dick and I are trying to make a baby. He's my pretend husband. We are going to have six children. Aren't we Dick. That's why.'
What? Dick didn't look quite so keen.
Silence reigns as Anne's jaw is set in defiance of any suggestion that Dick be separated from her. Meanwhile Dick is looking sheepish, to say the least.
'Is this true Dick? Since when could you make a baby? You don't even get any. Anyway, she's your cousin. You can't fuck your cousin. It's rude.' points out Julian, in that 'so Julian' way of his. But Dick argues his case…….
'That doesn't matter. You can marry your cousin……so there! What is fucking….exactly?' asks Dick, playing the innocent.
Of course the grinning Dick knows exactly what fucking is.
Just to make the point, Julian had confirmed at the last time of asking, that Dick had no need of a hanky under the pillow.
The net result was the presence of George between Julian and me. It was a bit of a squeeze, but in reality worked very well. I liked George for several reasons. She didn't fit the mould, rather like me. I had some good chats with her when the others were off on some pretext, and didn't want Timmy the dog with them. She would always stay with her beloved Timmy, and I would opt to stay with her too. I liked her feistiness and intense loyalty to her not particularly attractive animal, and I found her confused sexuality both curious and endearing. In short we had something in common. She certainly looked more than a little boyish. Even at my tender age of twelve I knew that could be significant. I thought that she would much prefer to have her hand in Anne's knickers than mine, in the unlikely event that I was wearing any……..shorts then. One afternoon at the cove, she explained………
'It's not that I don't like girls…….I do. Girls at school are always talking about boys, and I can join in with that. I like boys too. It's just that I want to do what boys do……boys things. You know, swim and climb rocks and stuff.'
''Play cricket on the green, and ride your bike across the stream?' I said, laughing. It was, to the uninitiated, a line from the 'I'm a boy' song by the Who.
'Yeah! Cut myself and see my blood.' She responds with enthusiasm.
'And come home all covered in mud I suppose?' I continued.
'Oh. So you like that Who song too? I think you're sweet Alf. Do you mind my saying that?'
I could see tears forming. She has very pretty dark brown eyes. I put one arm around her shoulder….and then two. She kissed me. Although our mouths touched, I didn't kiss her back…..not really. Then…….
'You do it with Julian don't you?' she says in a half accusing tone. Nothing much is a secret between us……not when you all sleep in the same tent.
'Yes, sometimes.'
'Have you done things with girls?'
'No.'
'Don't you want to?'
'No, not really George. Have you done anything with a boy?'
'No, but I wouldn't mind…….if the boy was a proper friend. Someone I knew.'
'Like me?' I said, jokingly.
'Yes, like you I suppose.'
She looked away, and began to bite her bottom lip. I wanted to make her feel better. That's perfectly true, I did.
'Well……I'm here…..if you want to……as long as I don't have to do anything?'
'No. I'll do everything. But you have to shut your eyes. You could pretend I'm Julian.'
Crikey! Women's intuition. As it happens, I'm curious to know how it would feel with a girl……how well they would do it. After all, a hand is a hand isn't it?
I lay back in the grass, and as instructed, I closed my eyes and let my thoughts wander. She rolled me onto my front for starters, and with my shorts down to my knees, I felt her hands and fingers up and down my back and legs, and in between my upper thighs, finally having my bottom examined in some detail, parting the cheeks to get a proper look presumably. Satisfied, she rolled me over onto my back to check that she had achieved her aim. Neither Julian or I are beginners when it comes to pleasant foreplay before the inevitable, but George had definite potential. It all felt very nice indeed, despite the fact that it was a girl doing it. You just need a little imagination.
'What exactly do I do now Alf?'
I showed her exactly how it worked for me. I'm twelve years old remember. Just about anything is going to work. Girl or boy, a few deft touches is pretty much bound to bring about a result.
Indeed things were going swimmingly, with less than a minute to go probably, when she asked if she could 'kiss it'. She didn't wait for the answer. I knew that this was something that would remain a secret between us. I never told Julian, but as I felt her lips tentatively enclose my extremity, I yearned for Julian to do the same thing. I was shocked at the appearance of that thought in my mind. Just moments before my climax, with her tongue still gently moving around the underside of my penis, she stopped that particularly pleasurable activity. I don't remember feeling disappointed or angry that that pleasure had been denied me. She had left me right on the edge, and the moment had passed.
One morning on one of my rare sleep-overs in the tent, I witnessed Dick and Anne playing 'mothers and fathers'. George was sleeping between me and Julian which meant both of us boys had 'gone without' the previous night. Neither had we managed to sneak off for half an hour the day before to do it together elsewhere in private. I had woken to a rustling sound about four feet away from me to my left. Dick was in the process of getting on top of Anne. This was slightly alarming evidence of the new game they played together. I thought they were joking when Anne announced, as part of their fantasy, that they were 'trying for a baby'. She'd obviously heard that phrase somewhere. Although they were covered with a sheet and one blanket, you could tell pretty much what was going on. Dick was now in position over Anne as I watched spellbound at this erotic scene being acted out right next to me. Dick took a few seconds to position himself for maximum effect, whatever that was, and then began a slow rhythmic motion over Anne's lower abdomen. I could see her arms and hands adjusting Dick's position over her, no doubt to get Dick's little dick exactly where she wanted it. Dick's 'rubbing' went on for some minutes, with him desperately trying to reach his climax, whilst Anne appeared to have the boy's buttocks in her hands. Eventually, the two bodies were still, Dick having come off Anne and was lying on his side next to her. Something may or may not have happened. Later, I told Julian what his younger brother had been up to. I thought he ought to know. That night Julian reported back to me.
'They've got this game they play together. It's quite innocent really, but it involves Dick rubbing himself up against Anne. It's just a fun game they've invented.'
'Really?'
'Yes. They pretend they're married. They know about how babies are made. They are just simulating sex.'
'What if……….?' I tentatively enquire.
'Well he's not………is he?'
'No. She's got her legs straight out and together. They couldn't be.'
'Good. Anyway, even if they were, he can't get anything.'
'Are you sure?'
'Yes, perfectly sure!'
So there you are. Julian knows exactly what Dick is capable of. Brothers will share personal details……especially that kind.
The following summer, things had moved on. Anyway, more of that later.
At the end of that summer, last summer in fact, the Five packed everything up, and the following morning Quentin and I saw them off from Wadebridge station. I had the job of sorting out the tent and packing it away in one of the musty-smelling spare rooms at Treboys, plus all the extra kit that went with it. It took me the whole of one day, once the various cooking pans had been scoured out as best I could. That job seemed to take forever.
The previous afternoon, the last of their holiday, Julian and I had walked the coast path. Anne and Dick were left at base camp sorting out our supper. Julian was so sweet, wanting to hold hands as we walked along. It was our moment to say goodbye the way we wanted to. With George wedged between us at night, we hadn't managed much boy sex, so we were both anxious to get on with it. We found a spot off the path that we had used before. We said a lot of nice things to each other which made both of us cry several times. We saved the sex until the very end. We used hands because we wanted to be looking at each other when it happened. Julian asked me if I was ready, because he was. I said I was. It was the deepest kiss we had ever had, and lasted throughout our almost simultaneous orgasms, mine arriving bang on cue, as usual, moments after his. I would usually, if I could, hold off until after he had had his moments….in the plural. With him it tended to last quite a while, the lucky boy. I could feel his tears mixing with mine. It was simple love-making, but immeasurably beautiful. We hadn't undressed properly, and there were consequences from Julian which somehow managed to manifest itself on my shorts, but had disappeared by the time we arrived back at Treboys……more or less. Julian thought it funny, but I didn't care. I didn't do it, he did. I regarded it as a badge of honour, but I had come to the conclusion that my beloved X-rated shorts had seen their last summer! I loved those things and it was wrench to throw them in the bin, finally. I felt very sexy in them. Whenever I put them on, sex tended to come to mind, which in normal circumstances I would have to provide myself. I would sometimes stand in front of the mirror in my bedroom and do it almost touching the glass pretending there were two of us about to come simultaneously. I can't imagine I was the only boy that ever did that…..was I? Afterwards, cleaning up the glass, the guilt was palpable, but it soon passed.
Quentin and I drove back from Wadebridge station to Treboys in silence. I was surprised how sad I felt. The five weeks they had been at the Cottage seemed to have gone like a puff of smoke in the wind. I tried to imagine the long winter without seeing Julian, and wondering if he felt the same way about me as I felt about him. When we reached Treboys, I was in no state to go home. Quentin could see how upset I was.
'Are you feeling very sad Alf?'
I couldn't answer his question. I didn't need to, as I stood by the kitchen window letting it all out. Quentin could see my answer for himself. The fact was that I was desperately in love….and hurting at that moment.
That afternoon I busied myself putting the sheets and pillow cases through the washing machine, pus some other bits and pieces that the Five had left behind. There were a couple of pairs of short socks they wore with their sandals, and two pairs of underpants that the scatter-brained Dick had left tangled up in one of the sheets, no doubt mislaid as a result of 'trying for a baby'. The weather was fine, so it all got pegged out on the line next to the vegetable patch. Dick's knickers were the last items in my hands, as Quentin joined me in the sunshine.
'Cute, don't you think……like him?'
'Yes…..he's sweet.' I said rather pathetically, as I reached up to peg the flimsy little briefs on to the sagging line. Then I thought about how true that is about Dick. That's exactly how I would describe him. No wonder Anne doted on him, and wanted him near her as often as possible.
'And quite different to Julian?' says Quentin.
'Yes, quite different.'
'Would you like to talk about it?'
I thought this question would come eventually. Actually, I did want to talk about it. I had no illusions with regard to Quentin. He made no secret of his liking for boys, but at the same time I trusted and liked him. He wanted to know everything about how the Five's relationships with each other had progressed this year…….and with me too. I found myself excited to tell him.
'There's no need to hold back Alf. Very little shocks me these days, and I do know.'
'But some of it is rather personal……..rather intimate?'
'You can tell me anything Alf…….in fact everything…….if you have no objection?'
I didn't, and I found myself wanting to describe my relationship with Julian and the others to Quentin. I wanted him to know.
It took me some time, maybe the best part of an hour to go through everything from start to finish, emphasizing that the sexual side of our friendship was just the natural result of something much deeper and heartfelt. We sat together on a rather tired sofa. Parts of my story were highly erotic, which was my intention, and true of course. It was inevitable that I for one became aroused. I wanted him to enjoy my story. He had been more than kind to me.
The afternoon ended when Quentin announced that next year would be the last that the Five would camp at Treboys. They were all growing up fast, and reality was superseding the youngsters' imagination. Their adventures would slowly dissolve into half-remembered fantasies, to be replaced by other more immediate priorities no doubt.
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