The Persistence of Memory
by Rafael Henry
Chapter 14
'So Duncan, how do you feel about Robbie's sister? She seems very keen to be friends with you.' I tease, very strongly suspecting; knowing even, that Duncan is very similar to me. A boy's boy. So how have I managed to father a child, my beloved Eustace? Or Sis as he is known by most. Actually it's not that hard with a girl if you go about it in what is really a rather unkind way. Just imagine she's not what she is but something else. All rather deceitful I suppose.
'I know she teases me.' He answers, leaning back on the park bench and stretching his legs out. 'You never had a girlfriend? Did you?'
'Yes I did, of sorts.'
'But you never did anything, did you?'
'Yes I did. I wanted to find out what it was like. You know, a bit of kissing. That kind of thing.'
'Not more than that then?'
'Yes, more than that. They don't bite……usually.'
Actually, Anna did bite, in a nice way.
The silence between us continues as we watch the usual Saturday morning activity at the play park. The slide is proving popular this morning. Rosie and her brother Robbie are on the swings, side by side, in front of us. Rosie is wearing her pretty dress this morning when she came round to Morwenna House in our Cornish village, Poverty S. Erth. She looks even prettier now as the wind created by her flying through the air high on the swing like the far-reaching pendulum that it is; not that far off 180 degrees from one extremity to the other. She's showing Duncan her knickers. Poor Rosie is at that 'boy' stage. She desperately wants…… needs a boyfriend to play with. Duncan's looking at her as her dress falls back into place only to get blown up around her waist again. Duncan's still looking.
'I know you've got Robbie. You could give Rosie a bit of your attention couldn't you? It wouldn't hurt you. You can see she's a bit bereft can't you? She's kept her eye on you for ages now. She's a pretty girl don't you think Duncan? In that dress? Lovely legs, just like Robbie's. In fact they are very similar don't you think? I think they are.'
More silence from Duncan. Then……
'What shall I say to her Alex?'
'Ask her how she is. How she's doing generally. Then she will asks you something. That's all you have to do. Go over to the swing and ask her if you can get on it. Say you want to be with her for a few minutes. Go on.'
So Duncan does. I watch him walk over to where the kinders are swinging. He looks a picture too, his shorts filled with two beautifully formed buttocks, the forms emphasized by the two erotic lines that indent the flesh and show forth as a distinctly sexy line of form, and just enough to tell me, their firm muscular structure; and what he's wearing. He subconsciously thinks they're observers watching him; admiring, perhaps lusting after his irresistible hind quarters, so he reaches behind him to tug down with two fingers, the elastic that's got itself awkwardly in between and rubbing. Less tight pants required perhaps? How often do we see sexually aware and self-conscious boys do this? I doubt if it's to put hungry predators off the scent. Duncan does have a personal scent without doubt, that lingers on the air, all around him. Rosie has caught it.
Rosie gives way to him, hopping off her swing, the left hand one of the two, adjusting her dress downwards, and walks over to the bench I'm occupying.
'Hello Rosie. Come and sit down a minute.'
She does as she's told, looking down and wetting her lips with her tongue, and flicking her long hair back with a toss of her head.
'How are you today? That's a nice dress. Is it new?'
'Yes. Dad got it from a charity shop yesterday.'
'Excellent. It's very pretty. You look lovely in it. Duncan likes it too.'
Rosie's head spun round to look at me.
'Did he say that?'
'Yes he remarked on it. He thinks you're a pretty girl.' I lied. 'Why don't you talk to him a bit more?'
'What do you think Robbie would say?'
'Nothing sweetheart. Why should he? There's no reason why you can't talk to him. Good gracious no!'
Duncan got more than he wanted the last time the two of them wandered off into the nearby wooded area. All stunted wind-blown pines and tamarisk bushes. She didn't ask him if she could, but she did. She touched his penis. It responded to the nice feeling he was getting, but then everything went cold. Perhaps this time things would go more to plan for Rosie. Surely it was worth another try with the boy she really wanted so badly. She has a crush on Duncan, that's quite obvious to everyone. When she plays with herself in bed, it's Duncan's fingers doing it for her, not her doing it for herself. She goes through the same scenario over and over again. The walk into the woods holding hands. The looks they give each other, the smiles, and then they stop to kiss, arms around backs.
Six thirty-five in the morning. It'll soon be time to get up for another day's work for Ralph Mole. Still time to fit one in before waking Rosie in the room next to his. He pushes the bedclothes to one side so he can watch himself come all over his stomach and chest too. It won't be long now as he raises his head wondering how strong this one will be. He hasn't had one for a few days. Too tired.
Here it comes. Yes, it's going to be a strong one. A week since the last. He's tried to edge it, but he can't wait that long. He wants it now . Why wait?
It was this girl he saw. She was so pretty, and willing. She led him into the field. They lay down. Ralph's hand slips under her summer dress and finds what he's looking for. It feels damp there. It's what she wants, badly.
Ralph watches as it all begins to rise inside him. Go on…..go on…….go on! And then, nothing.
The image has faded away. Another image floated into Ralph's consciousness. Garth. He'd seen him sunbathing nude on the terrace behind the Morwenna House when he had been given some work there. He tried not to look but he did, weeding a flower bed as he was. All he had to do was raise his head slightly and there was Garth, on his stomach with legs apart showing his dark mannekunt. He'd had that bitch of a wife of his that way when her curse was on. He looked again and noticed the man was smooth there. No hair where he had tons. The man turned over onto his back, saw him and waved. It was the same with his mannekock; smooth as a baby's bottom. Ralph draws a sharp breath, his face burning now as he raises another weed from the ground with his trowel.
Ralph gathers his breath again, with a new image in his mind's eye. Everything began to work better now, smoother, so much better. Then he came. In the end it was a good one, evidenced by the streaks and puddles of pearly white on his stomach. Lots of it.
Half an hour later Rosie had come too, in the room next to his. Ralph heard her. He looked at his own face, sunburnt from outdoor toil. It would be over in a few seconds. He tried not to listen but he couldn't stop. Just the last few seconds to go. Poor Rosie. It's this period business too. The Curse. What should he tell her?
When Garth looked back, briefly, at Ralph, he knew, just as Garth had given his immediate thoughts away. Both of them knew. Ralph didn't know where to put himself at that moment as he felt his face flush alarmingly. Garth smiles.
'Thanks for coming Ralph.'
'That's ok. Anytime.' He says in that Cornish way of his.
'Do you mean that Ralph?' Asks Garth.
'Yes. Like I said. Anytime that suits you.'
He was referring to the gardening, but there's a certain ambiguity in their conversation, not lost on either man. Then he went to a different part of the garden to do more weeding, and think about what had just happened. He'd been a bit of a star when he was at school nearly sixteen years ago now. He's thirty-two now, older than Garth. Not a star on the games field or in the classroom, but for his good looks, he was voted the handsomest boy in the school three years running. Not that he knew about this achievement as all the voters, ten of them, were all boys.
The park was getting busy now, with new skipping kinders arriving by the minute.
'Does Duncan really think I'm pretty Alex?'
'Yes. By the way, how are things at home without Robbie messing up your bedroom?'
'Still a mess. Dad's very disorganized.'
'Oh. Shall I get Garth to come round?' I said as a joke. 'It won't take him long to sort everything out.'
'Dad would like that. Most of my clothes want chucking out. What will I do? Do Robbie and Duncan share?'
'Yes, in my old room. It's a big bed in there. Plenty of room for two boys with lots of space between them.'
Which is true. Rosie has become my silent friend.
'You have very pretty hair. Who does it for you?'
'No one.'
'Why not let Garth style it for you? He does all of us, including Robbie now. He's brilliant at it.'
More thinking goes on inside Rosie's head.
'Can I stay one night?'
She has pretty eyes too, just like Robbie's. Of course she can stay.
'In theory, yes. I'm not sure Duncan and Robbie would want you in with them though. You'd have to share with me.'
'You don't like girls do you?'
'If you're wondering if I want girlfriends. Not really. That's not to say I don't like girls as people. It's just that I'm not interested in having a long-term girlfriend in the romantic sense. It's just not me Rosie.
'And Duncan? Is he the same?'
'Maybe, but it's a bit soon for him to make decisions like that. He'll find out in due course.'
'When did you find out?'
'Very early Rosie.'
'If I did come, can I sleep with you?'
'Yes of course. I'm a warm body. A bit like a hot water bottle Garth reckons. Would that bother you, being so close to me? I sleep in a single bed sweetheart.'
'No.' She says, looking down at the grass at our feet. She clearly doesn't want me to see her face.
Robbie is trying to teach a brown-haired boy how to use the zip wire properly but the boy is not quite tall enough. He needs another year of growth. The boy grabs the handle standing on the platform and launches himself forwards, but he doesn't make the platform at far end of the wire as Robbie catches him around his waist and pushes his bottom upwards far enough for him to stand securely on it, still holding the handle. The boy is visibly thrilled. Good boy Robbie. That's kindness for you. Duncan has lost interest and walks back to our bench. Rosie moves to her left to leave Duncan a space between us. He sits down, his hands on his bare brown knees.
'Look, I think I'm going to wander back to the house.' I say to them both. You two stay here with Robbie.'
'Can I come?' Asks Duncan quietly.
'And me?' Chips in Rosie.
I look at them both.
'Perhaps Rosie could help you tidy your bedroom Duncan?'
'Ok.'
His 'ok' lacked conviction.
I made them a fruit squash drink each, which they drank at the kitchen table. Garth was emptying the washing machine making a pile of clothes on the back of one of the large Windsor style chairs.
'I'm going down to your place in a few minutes Rosie. Your father needs a little help with sorting out the place. I'm doing a charity shop run tomorrow. I'll be donating some of mine and Duncan's father's odds and sods from here so I can take what you and Robbie have grown out at the same time. We'll be busy for a couple of hours so best stay up here until lunchtime. Ok?'
Garth gave the kinders a good hard look so there's no doubt about where they'll be staying, or to put it another way, where they will not be going. I imagine that if a healthy man has not had sex for months, he will consider an offer of an hour of silky intimacy, even with someone of his own sex. Should that occur this morning, it would be the first time for Ralph Mole since his schooldays and lunchtime mutual masturbation sessions at the far end of the playing fields. And then with the onset of puberty came, predictably, the girls who were no doubt, all over him.
Garth likes the texture of silk when it comes to pyjamas. Some of my earliest memories are of me sitting in front of the telly with a towel wrapped around my shoulders, otherwise nude, after my bath, with him in what I called his 'silkies', with my bare bottom plonked in his lap with his arms tight around me drawing me into him. I could feel his love pouring out of him into me, my eyes tight shut as I enjoyed the feeling it gave me. Being loved. Yes, being loved in tight arms. Secure. My father was always far more distant, and not very physical with his partner, Garth, who is his junior by twelve years. My father has always accepted that a much younger man needs a little leeway when it comes to sex. Garth, with his bleached blond hair, has occasionally strayed, always by kind permission of my father, provided he got a full report, but the relationship works for all of us. I have no idea what Ralph and he will get up to along the road at Tregenna Cottage this morning; something or nothing, but it won't matter either way. If it makes Ralph a bit happier, then so be it.
Duncan and Rosie emerged from the bedroom after about half an hour, announcing with rather pink faces, that the bedroom had been tidied, and a few bits had been put in a pile to be taken to the charity shop in Truro which did a roaring trade, interestingly, emphasizing the truth that much of the local population were experiencing hard times, financially. Most of the items belonged to Robbie which, when seen by Garth, will get replaced with no expense to Ralph. Out with the old and unfashionable, and in with new and up to date stuff that boys want to be seen in.
I gave Duncan a hard questioning look but got nothing back. I knew perfectly well what Rosie wanted from him. I'm a very gay eighteen-year-old, nearly, and yet I can find Rosie very attractive with her beautiful long light brown hair and flat chest which she hates. I think gay boys can get on famously with girls, who find us non-threatening and easy to be friends with because we are not after sticking our kinderkocks into their front bottoms. Back ones? Well, maybe. I also know if I ask her questions, I'll get answers.
'So you got the boys' room sorted then?'
'Umm.'
'Successfully?' I asked, as the conversation descends into riddles.
'What does that mean Alex?'
'I mean…….did you get done what you wanted to get done?'
'Sort of.'
'Oh, aren't you going to tell me? How far you got with the job? Did you two get finished?'
'Almost.'
'Oh dear. Maybe next time. I hope Duncan helped you?'
'He's not into it.'
'But you got somewhere I hope?'
'Yes.'
'Well that's better than nothing sweetheart. Isn't it?'
'Yes.' Rosie nods. 'Did you mean it Alex? I can stay one night?'
'Yes I meant it. But you'll have to share with me I'm afraid. We can't have you sleeping with your brother darling.' I said with my special disapproving look.
'I have before; when we had to share on holiday.' Rosie replies, brightly.
'Well that was then. Not now, not at your age. So what did you get done then?'
I think she wanted to tell me, in view of my offer to let her stay one night at Morwenna House and give her father a bit of space. She was about to deny me a running commentary of her tangle with poor old Duncan, but I did extract from her, in the end, the truth. He's such a sweet boy with her, and everybody. He'd give her the opportunity she so desires. So here's a brief resume; taken from her words……..
The girl, facing the anxious looking boy, lifts up her summer dress up to her neck to reveal her white knickers and bare and rather flat chest, that is if you ignore the awkwardly tender dark pink bumps either side. She smiles at the boy who is looking her up and down. She undoes the fastening at the front of his new beige Gap Kids shorts. He's not going to stop her. She pulls the garment down his legs and sees his cute kinderkock nestled quietly to one side, the delicately sculpted form, the head of which presses though the thin material like they do, the coronal ridge very prominent. With the palm of her hand, four fingers together, she presses against it, moving her fingers from side to side. And then lower so his kinderballe are cupped, so to speak, in her fingers. She takes one of his hands, spreads his fingers appropriately and places them against the front of her knickers. He thinks they look like a pair of his, or very similar. She moves the boy's fingers in the way that she moves her own when she masturbates. He quickly gets the idea as she draws another deep breath. She notices an encouraging change in Duncan. He's responding. The object of her desiring has moved from the snoozing horizontal towards the vertical, all on its own, perhaps with a little help from her too. Both kinders need more air so the breathing becomes a little faster, and deeper, and unbeknownst to them, more audible. Duncan, with his free hand feels the girl's chest, finally daring out of curiosity more than a sexual interest, her hardened nipples as they stand up firm and ultra-sensitive as they are now. He likes the feel of them as they are quite unlike his own. The girl moves her face so close to his that her lips touch his, and begin to press together. It was her tongue he can feel now that really put him off. A girl's tongue in his mouth? No.
'So he just pulled away at that point?'
'Yes. He didn't like it. I asked him if he thought there was anything wrong with me. He got a bit upset and said no there wasn't anything wrong with me.'
'Well you'll just have to accept the only thing wrong with you darling is that you're a girl, and that's not your fault is it.'
'No. But I like him Alex. I like him a lot.'
'I know you do, and he likes you, very much as it happens. You can be friends darling, best friends if you want to be. But this other thing you would like isn't going to happen by the looks of it. Is it?'
'No. At least not yet.'
'It may never happen. He's obviously not ready. He may never be.'
'But he does it with Robbie. He told me.'
'Maybe he does, I don't know. Just be friends ok?'
'When I come for the night. Will I feel you next to me?'
'You will Rosie. I'll be right next to you.'
'Can I have a hug please? Now?'
There were tears in her eyes that just got bigger and began to roll in tiny rivers down her cheeks. Such sweet disappointment. She had her hug that lasted long enough to see her through this little teenage crisis. The boy she likes that finds he can't, rather than won't, further her sexual education and experience. Never mind sweet kinder, there's plenty of time left for you. There's a boy out there, for sure, meant for you.
'So which night will I be coming?' Rosie, suitably recovered from her trauma, asks in that charmingly innocent way of hers.
'I'll ask Garth. It's a question of what he's up to.'
'How did it go with Ralph yesterday Garth?'
'Ok thanks. I got quite a welcoming vibe from him.'
'No action then?' I joked.
'No! He's a straight guy Alex, not that that's necessarily an insurmountable hurdle. I'm sure he could do with some relief if we had a night on our own in that poky little cottage of his. Sadly he probably doesn't want his tiny mind blown by yours truly. Maybe if I went in fancy dress looking like a Truro tart?'
'Well that's not his fault is it.' Was my minor rebuke of Garth. He would do well to remember the predicament he was in a few years ago before my dad rescued him from being shagged senseless by a bishop and all his clergy, pretty boy that he was, and still is I suppose. So my dad got to shag him instead; with the added bonus of the offer of a secure roof over his head. And just in case you're wondering, no I haven't had relations with Garth. Not now, or ever. He's way too mincy for my taste. Having said that, there's not much he doesn't know about me.
I imagine all boys have a play in the bath tub from time to time. He must have been just outside the unlocked bathroom door that evening. I've always found the warm caressing water erection inducing, and a twelve-year-old hard kinderkock needs a little looking after does it not? I was hard at it and nine-tenths of the way there when he poked his head around the door giving him the perfect view. I noticed his presence in the corner of my eye but it was far too late to stop. I always liked to watch my kinderkum emerge into the world, so with my head raised to witness yet another, yet totally new and fresh and vibrant, burst of life from the tip of my best friend, I came. In a way I'm very glad Garth saw it all. He'd nurtured me all those years so it's was right his mind had been put at rest on that issue; is the boy alright on the sperm front? The giggling boys were right, it does float, being far less dense than water as I move my hand underneath the blobs and try to catch some in the palm of my hand. I wondered how it might feel to bathe in a bath of semen? Not very nice really. Far better to experience it in smaller and more manageable quantities.
It's going to be Wednesday night for Garth's night playing away with Ralph, unbeknownst to his son and daughter of course. So Rosie will come here straight after the school day and play with the boys until dinner time, a promised casserole, courtesy of Garth's culinary skills, German style with spicy sausage and loads of cabbage, to fill our hungry kinder tummies. Garth will announce before the meal that he has a stayover in Truro. My dad, Sean, will know all about it.
My father never watches the TV with us, preferring to 'work' in his study until his early bedtime in their bedroom the opposite side of the double fronted stone building that is Morwenna House. So I'm on the smaller of the two sofas in the drawing room, with the two boys in the other, all of us in our night time kit. The pick of the entertainment is a two-hour episode of 'Morse', a very good detective series. With an hour to go before any denouement is apparent, the boys ask if they can go up to bed. They've been getting a bit restless for the last half hour so I guessed that was coming. Fine, they are free to go when they want to. Rosie, in her large tee shirt that's more like a dress has been patiently wading through the 'Morse' episode, her feet on the edge of the sofa with her hands around her lower legs, knees together. With the boys gone up, she immediately begins to relax, her head now leaning against my shoulder, her body slumped sideways with her feet against the end of the sofa, her hands together on my upper thigh. She getting closer and it's rather too obvious.
'I'm eighteen Rosie. That makes me an adult in the eyes of the law. You are fourteen. There are things that adults can't do with girls your age. Do you get that?'
'But your birthday isn't until Sunday.' She corrects me. 'So you're seventeen still. You're not an adult yet .'
'Ok, no I'm not.'
'We can cuddle can't we?'
'Yes, we can do that. But no more.'
'Have you ever been with a girl?' She asks, out of the blue.
'No. But I have with a very kind woman. It was all a bit odd really. Not quite what I expected.'
'Was it nice?'
'I suppose it was. It all ended up with Sis appearing nine months later.'
'Will we ever see him?'
'Maybe. One day.'
'Can we go up now?'
'Yes. You will have to be a good girl otherwise I'll kick you out. You'll have to sleep on the floor.'
'Ok. But you said we could cuddle.'
'Yes, just for a minute or two.'
'Can we be naked?'
'I always am. Would that bother you?'
'No.'
I closed the bedroom door. The dim bedside light was already on. Rosie had pulled the extra large tee shirt up and over her head, folded it, and was in the process of removing her knickers. I've not modelled a girl as yet but when I looked at her standing with her back to me, I thought I might have missed a trick. The buttocks of a boy, quite narrow but full and rather lovely, in fact extraordinarily similar to her brother in that respect. Robbie. She looked back at me as I undressed down to nothing. She inspected me with her eyes, with an obvious focus, open mouthed as she sat on the edge of the bed with her legs apart. I looked at her. At the very top of her lips and inbetween, and I'm not talking about her mouth here, I recognized the female version of a boy's penis emerging from the top between the two folds, I thought in my non-expert way, unusually prominent, not that I've seen any other than Anna's, Johnny's mother, who was the same. Anna asked me to do something that I had done to boys, including her son Johnny. I had been taught well by a lovely older lad at S. Endellion, who in addition to his tuition in this most fulfilling and rewarding skill, unloaded some of his own experiences as we lay together in the long warm dry grass. But this was an entirely different matter. It was like an infant boy's penis, a good deal smaller than baby Sis's, complete with a slippery piece of skin that enclosed the tiny hard organ, a bit like the male uncircumcised prepuce. I could get the whole thing in between my lips and tickle the underside with my tongue, a process I actually enjoyed as it was so close to bringing a boy to a longed for orgasm, ecstatically. According to Anna, I serviced her as well as anyone had, which meant her husband, who was safely out of sight directing operations down at the Perkins diesel factory at three thirty on that Thursday afternoon. I'm sure some bored housewives construct fantasies of an afternoon alone in bed surrounding attended by a sixteen year old schoolboy in his snazzy uniform, dreaming of getting her hands inside his pants prior to getting the rest of him inside her. Quite a nice fantasy I'd say.
'You go on the outside Rosie. I'll go against the wall.' I told her. Rosie will do what she's told in this situation.
With my head almost touching the wall, I can hear what goes on in the boys' room. There's no sound. We were fifteen minutes later going up so there's a good chance they're asleep now. And with this bed being three foot six wide, there's enough room for Rosie and I to lie in relative comfort. I'm on my side facing Rosie who has her eyes wide open and breathing slightly faster than one might expect. I drew a deep breath.
'Quick cuddle? If you want to?' I whispered.
She responds immediately and moments later she's in my arms, the sweet girl, and one leg over my thigh. The skin on her back feels smooth and warm, just as Robbie's felt. It could easily be him, but with one important difference. He's interesting and she is less so.
I turn her over and remind her of the terms under which she must behave. I have no interest in being indiscrete with her, imagining how complicated that would make things for everybody. I can't risk any sort of encouragement, but despite that, I have stiffened, fully. It's the notion of any kind of sex that excites boys, and I'm one of them. Rosie must not know.
I don't remember falling asleep of course. One never does. But I have a vivid memory of waking up.
There are two hands on my back, gently rubbing, no doubt an activity intended to gently bring me into consciousness. I want it to go on. I can feel warm breath on my back. My erection is almost painful, but out of sight, safely enclosed in both my hands. I've no idea how long this has been going on. The hands move to my shoulders and then down my arm to my hand, feeling the fingers in an attempt to prize the hand away. This is exquisite! I'm not going to give a clue that I'm awake now. I feel pressure on my pelvis, a sort of tugging, an attempt to make me lie on my back. Should I resist? If I don't my sexual excitement will be in plain sight and I shall lose control of this very delightful situation. So I keep resisting. Now there's pressure on my shoulder, a pulling, an irresistible pulling . I can't look. There's no way I can open my eyes and look. There's more pulling and more resistance from me.
But there comes a time when all sense and logic disappears out of the proverbial window isn't there? You know what you should do, or should not do, but you can't. You weaken because the prospects are so wonderful and one starts doing things one should not do. How many of us have fallen when sex rears it's pretty head? Plenty.
I give in to the pressure exerted on my body and turn onto my back. Just don't look Alex. If you haven't actually seen , then in a way it isn't happening. In a way it's excusable. If you didn't see it, it didn't happen. But I know it will happen soon. Something I crave for but cannot have. Open your eyes Alex and you'll see your tormentor and the giver of the deepest pleasure you can imagine.
Thinking back about this incident, the hands didn't feel quite right. Too big perhaps? Too strong? There was something not quite right. Have you guessed?
At some point in the night they must have swapped over, Rosie and Robbie. I'm sure they had planned it. They must have.
I opened my eyes and looked straight into Robbie's. He meant business alright as he climbed onto my outstretched body, his handsome kinderkock bolt upright and looking game for playtime, the prepuce stretched tight, the kockhead just protruding. Shades of Johnny here. He hauls himself over my tummy, and onto his knees that are either side of me now, and lowers himself into a position I know well, or did know well. This is no time to ask him for an explanation simply because the explanation was rather obvious. Rosie wanted Duncan, poor lad, and Robbie wants me, thinking I will want him. I do, of course, this gorgeous morsel of a boy. Of course I want him. I always have ever since I saw him open his legs, accidentally of course, on his bike at the park. The little bump inside the flash of white. I wanted him then and I want him now, badly. And here he is trying to guide me into a deep and dark part of him into which I can't possibly venture. Such is this sweet boy's naivete. Thinking all he has to do is to sit on top of me and we'll make mad passionate love together. He must have read about it somewhere or sneaked a few seconds in the company of one of those magazines about boys and their antics together.
'What are you trying to do Robbie?' I ask quietly, with a benign smile, as he continues to bring my penis into direct contact with his eager rear end.
'I'm not sure that's going to work sweetheart.'
I'm trying not to laugh as he tries again, failing. There's no way matey.
'I'm afraid that's not how you do it darling boy.'
'How then?' He asks, in that lovely treble voice, just a little husky. Boys' voices are so sexy at this stage. Just a little way off puberty, but promising all those riches to come.
How then, he asks.
Where shall I start?
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