Chris and Nigel

Chapter 3


This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts between the characters in it. Although the characters are young teenagers, nothing written here should be taken as approval of or encouragement for sexual liaisons between people where such liaisons are either illegal, or objectionable for moral reasons. Although this story does not include safe sex practices, it is everyone's own responsibility to themselves and to each other to engage only in PROTECTED SEX. It is a story. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Nothing represented here is based on any fact known to the author.

The story is copyright 1999 by "Its Only Me from Across the Sea". If you copy the story, please leave the credits, and the web address of present, and also the email address of I'd love to receive feedback.


So there I was, crying my heart out, being held by the most beautiful boy in the world, with my whole world having a disaster. Five in the morning, with low dawn sun streaming in through the window, and me wracked with sobs, eyes going puffy, crying helplessly onto the chest of my lover, my friend, my seducer, Nigel. I couldn't stop, and I started to set him off, too. Nigel, so outwardly confident, so serene.

"Stop, please stop," he sniffled. "I hate it when anyone cries, but when you cry I can't bear it."

"(Sob) I'm so scared. (sob) I don't want to be different. (sob) I can't be gay, I've always been disgusted by gays. (sob)"

"Get dressed."

I was almost uncontrollable, it was as though someone very close to me had died. "Can't (sob)!

"Then I'll dress you."


"Yes. NOW!"

We almost fought about it. But I had to do something. I felt just like a little kid, you know, all exhausted with crying. Only dry tears came, and I couldn't catch my breath. "Why? Where are we going?"

"Don't talk, just get dressed and come with me. Quietly."

Well, I managed somehow. I didn't get my socks on right, and my trainer laces knotted together, and I got my tee shirt on back to front. Nigel put it right for me, and kissed my tears, but it didn't make me feel right.

He took me by the hand, and quietly out of the room, down the corridor, past Miss Coker's room, and through the hall. I was dragging back all the way. I must have been really aggravating, but he didn't let it show.

Through the front door, we went into the street. Not warm, yet. Then the smell of the sea came into my nose and calmed me a bit. Fresh air. He was right, that's what I needed. His face was determined, and a bit stern. This was a Nigel I hadn't seen before. Heck I'd only known him a couple of days, but I thought I knew him completely. And he was being very strong and tough and looking after me.

"Right," he said softly, "we're going to go to the beach, and we're going to run."

"I don't run."

"Do now!" And he dragged me by the hand, and we ran.

As we ran, I began to feel the mood changing. I couldn't run and feel sorry for myself, and I couldn't not run and be left behind, so I ran. It wasn't perfect, but it was better. At the beach we kept running to the water's edge, and Nigel stopped short, just a couple of yards from the water.

"Get undressed."


"Get undressed. We're going swimming. Naked. Together."

I was so astounded, I did what he said. He was already naked, and he was beautiful, all velvety, with his beautiful soft cock just thinking of jutting out in front of him. Mine, too. In front of me, I mean, but I wasn't feeling like sex, it was sort of automatic. He grabbed me, and hand in hand he almost ran me into the water. Just past knee deep it tripped us and we fell with two huge splashes. I won't say that the cool water brought me to my senses. That happens in stupid girls' novels. What it did was made me catch my breath, and concentrate on living, nothing else, just living.

I think it was all the adrenaline, but I began to feel better. "I feel stupid," I told him.

"I feel responsible," he said. "I'm not sure I had the right..."

"I'm glad you did, though. I never knew such intense feelings existed. Without your kiss, your touch, I wouldn't feel so, so, so complete. Nigel, I'm sorry. I'm scared, but I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you, I just couldn't help it. Something crept up and got me." And I swam to him, kissed him, swallowed half the Mediterranean, and came up spluttering.

"We have to get back very soon. People are starting to wake up."

We got out of the water, and I looked at him, standing there, proud and naked. That cold water had done its stuff all right. I'd never seen such a small, shrivelled cock, there just above a wrinkled pair of nutmegs! And he must have had the same thought about me, because we both burst into sudden laughter.

"That doesn't look like that hot thing you put inside me last night"

"Nor does yours from the night before!" he replied, looking into my eyes. "Chris, I love you. It's that simple. If that means I'm gay, so be it. I don't think I am anything with a label, I just know I love you. If you love me, that doesn't mean you are gay either. We can be what we want to be. Can we just be lovers?"

And I kissed him, full on the lips, in front of anyone who might have been watching, standing with him naked on the beach in front of all the posh hotels, with their thousands of windows. And do you know? I didn't care who saw.

We managed to drag our clothes onto our wet bodies, socks full of sand. And we walked slowly together, just us, alone in the whole world, back to the school trip, to the world.

It wasn't so easy to creep in as it had been to creep out. People were stirring, toilets were flushing. It was almost seven o'clock. Miss Coker was awake. And an awake Miss Coker meant trouble with a capital 'T' if she caught us coming in.

Her doorknob moved as we went past it. I swear it moved. And we rushed the last 10 yards to our room, and toppled inside.

"I love you, Chris," and Nigel kissed my ear, kissed my lips and held me close to him. "I love you."

"I love you, Nigel. I never knew I could feel this way about anyone or anything. It's confusing, and wonderful. I'm sorry."

And we headed for breakfast

"Hi Nigel, Hi Chris, come and sit over here," Carol called. "We're doing museums today, and I'm hoping you guys will be in my group. It'll be really boring, and I want some good company. Besides, Nigel never bought the ice cream yesterday!"

"Hi Carol, just let us get some juice and we'll join you," I called back. I was beginning to get my brain round the whole thing, at last, and light was appearing at the end of my tunnel.

I got back to the table first, and sat down opposite my girlfriend. "Are you all right, Chris?"

"Sure, Carol. For the first time for ages, I really feel good."

"But your eyes. You've been crying."

"Shh. I don't want anyone to know."

"What is it? Has someone been horrid to you? I'll give them a hard time if they have!"

Nigel had arrived. Oh no, what was going to happen? What was going to...?

Quietly, "He's just been a bit homesick, suddenly." Nigel confided, "He's OK now, but he needed to get it out of his system. Don't let anyone know. It's embarrassing, and Chris made me promise not to tell anyone, even you."

Carol came round the table and hugged me. Complicated, or what? And I hugged her back, and kissed her for it. And I squeezed Nigel's hand under the table as soon as I got a hand free. And I began to have that special feeling about Carol as well as about Nigel. This was going to be a difficult day. This was going to be a difficult life.

Breakfast was a bit of a silent affair. Nigel wanting to do nothing to set me off again, and Carol worried about me, and whether I was OK. And both of them squeezing one of my knees every so often. No-one could be treated like this and be unaffected by it. It began to get to two muscles, and one was my laugh muscle. The other? Well, what do you think?

"OK guys," I nearly giggled it. "I'm OK now. Honest. I think knowing that you care has had a lot to do with it." I was careful not to look at either when I said that - I would have creased up. I mean, what if they had both been squeezing the same knee?

"Are you taking the piss?"

"Language, Carol!" I'd never heard her use what my Mum always called 'strong language' before. Come to that, I was beginning to suspect that there were facets to Carol that I had never seen before, and some facets that I was quite interested in seeing.

"Even so, I think you are laughing at me, or at Nigel, or at both of us."

"Well, a bit, I suppose. I just had a bit of a rough time when I woke up, sort of missing things I was used to, and you've clucked round me like a pair of mother hens. I mean, it's fine, but I'm not used to it."

I wasn't. I don't have any brothers or sisters, and my Mum isn't the kind to fuss. I guess she loves me all right, and so does my Dad, but the house is kind of 'functional', without much that's 'soft' about it. You know: furniture that does the job, walls with bland paint, no pictures, not many ornaments, no soft cushions. Functional, easy to keep clean, everything in its place. I was treated a bit like that - fine so long as I was 'in my place', and loved, but without much outward show of affection.

Looking back now, though I didn't realise it then, I was so starved of affection that I think that was what upset me that morning. Not that I hadn't had much affection, but that I was being given it now, and in spades.

And then I broke into giggles, and I still can't explain why!

"Come on, Carol, let's leave the giggling idiot here and go and see what's been organised for us." And they vanished to the noticeboards. It was good, I thought, that my two special friends got on so well.

Breakfast over, we got our stuff together, and went to wait for the coach. As it happened, none of the three of us was destined to sit together, and we were bundled unceremoniously onto the coach, and emptied out at the museum. It was actually a pretty good museum, all about French Rural Life with houses, and farm implements, and people all dressed up in clothes of the period, and doing period things. And most important, there was an ice cream shop.

"There you are, Chris." Nigel was waving. "I've got an ice cream for you, and one for Carol, but I can't see her. Any ideas where she is?"

"Somewhere over by that barn, I think."

"Go and take her ice cream over to her then."


"Do you mean, 'won't you be jealous?'"

"Well, yes, in a way."

"Chris, I love you, but I don't want to control you, or to make life difficult for you. I like Carol. I know you like her, and she's been your friend for ages, ever since I've known you and loved you. I'm genuinely OK about it."


"The ice cream's melting. At least take that to her before it melts." And he laughed.

And I did. And I kissed her before I gave it to her. Just a light brush on the cheek. And it felt good, well more than good. Not like Nigel. Different, but good. "Carol?"

"Mmm hmm?"

"Nothing." Whatever I had been about to say, my nerve failed before I could say a word.


"Well, thanks for caring about me. It meant a lot to me, this morning." It did. I was only just beginning to realise how much both these people meant to me. Carol, the girl who had been my girlfriend for ever, and Nigel who had become my boyfriend all in a rush, and who was my lover. And I kissed her again, hard, through the ice cream, and pulled her against me, so hard that breathing became a serious concern!

When I'd kissed Carol before... before.... before Nigel, it had always been a sort of experimental 'this is what we do, and it's called kissing' kind of thing. This was different. It was almost like kissing Nigel. As good, but different. As strong, but different. She was more yielding, but as fiery. As strong, but softer. As beautiful, but feminine in a tomboyish sort of way.

"Ohh!" She gasped as we broke. "You feel different, more... less... but... DO IT AGAIN!"

And we did.

"Christopher Jenkins! Caroline Anderson! This is not the place! Nor is it the time! You will come here at once!" Miss Coker in her most dragon like, Trunchbull like manner. "Now then young sir and young madam, now then, just what do you think you are doing? Mm?"

This was not a question to answer. First, it was pretty obvious what we were doing, and second you do not answer Miss Coker when she is giving you a bollocking.

"Your parents trust us to bring you home safely, to care for your moral well-being, to ensure that you set an example to others, and to represent England and the School when abroad. What do you have to say to that? Mm?"

Oh good grief! What can you say to that 'Please Miss Coker, I have a boyfriend who is my lover, and I've just discovered exactly how much I love my girlfriend too'? I think not! "Yes, Miss Coker, Sorry Miss Coker"


"He's my boyfriend, Miss Coker."

"That doesn't come into it!"

"And I love him," Carol interrupted. "And I want to kiss him and hold him."

"Carol, be quiet!" I was horrified. I certainly wasn't used to having my private life aired in public, I didn't want Miss Coker to get really upset with her, and I didn't want Nigel to get upset, and I wasn't ready to hear it, well not in this way, and, and, and...

"Carol, be quiet!" Miss Coker was incandescent, Carol was stunned, and dissolved into tears. I was horrified, and stood there like a gibbering idiot. Looking first at Miss Coker, then at Carol.

At fourteen you just can't resist a teacher. You certainly can't resist a teacher in a rage. If you do, life just gets worse. In her defiance, and she was beautiful in her defiance, Carol just about registered that she was at the point of wrecking everything. She shut up. Suddenly.

The rest of that afternoon was a blur. Carol and I were separated, and given a very stern warning about 'behaviour in public places' and some other stuff that seemed important to Miss Coker, and we had to agree to behave 'correctly', whatever that meant. Actually we found out what it meant soon enough. Because we were to be separated for the whole of that evening, too. Carol was given a punishment essay to write; 'Morals and Today's Morality'. Utter crap, or course. I mean, she was the most moral person I knew. She had only kissed me, she hadn't done anything else, but I suppose it was the rudeness that Miss Coker was punishing her for.

Truth to tell, I felt disloyal to Nigel for kissing Carol and finding out that I loved her, and disloyal to Carol for loving Nigel, and was a bit grumpy with everyone. Supper passed. I think it was nice food, but it could have been sawdust for tall the notice I took of it. Time passed. I felt alone, and went to my room, well Nigel's and my room, and lay down on my bed for a think.

Well thinking wasn't much use. I could see only two ways forward. Hurt Nigel, who had taught me how to love, and stay with Carol, and never enjoy that boy-closeness again; Hurt Carol by leaving her for Nigel, and not explaining to her why we weren't together because I daren't explain, and never feel that warm, yielding softness again. Shit, shit shit, shit!

Very quietly, the door opened, and Nigel came into the room, knelt on the floor beside me, and stroked my hair out of my eyes. Wordlessly for a while, he knelt there just stroking my hair. It didn't help things fall into place, but it felt good, and it made me feel I could cope. "I love you," I breathed towards him.

"You are my beautiful boyfriend," he said. "I will always love you. Always." A long pause. "Chris?"


"Because I love you, I have something to say to you that's important. Please listen, and don't interrupt until I finish."


"It's a bit of a speech, and it may come out all wrong. I've been thinking about it since Coker yelled at you both, and I saw the light in both your eyes as you kissed, and I just know that you love each other. I always knew it, but neither of you realised that you did. It was just obvious if you knew what you were looking at, especially because I loved you then. Anyway," and the words all tumbled out in a rush, "anyway, if you want to be with Carol, because I love you, I'm happy to give you to her, and never to stand between you. I don't want to lose you, but I want you to be happy." And he never stopped stroking my hair while he was speaking, but he tensed up almost as though he was afraid something would hit him or hurt him.

"Ohhh!" I couldn't think, and I didn't think. I acted on pure instinct, and I have no idea whether it was a good decision, or a bad decision, but it was made. "Nigel, I love you, and I can't help loving you, and you've showed me so much of what real love is, and I want to be with you, and you may be a boy, and it may be scary, but I love you and I want you and I need to hold you so much."

It was his turn to cry. We seemed to be doing a lot of that, I thought as I got off the bed, and knelt down beside him, and gently turned him towards me and kissed him softly on the cheeks, and then placed my lips so carefully on his mouth, and held him so safely as I started to explore his teeth and lips with my tongue. As I kissed him, as I held him, as I stroked his hair, as I stroked the beautiful silver-gold hair away from his forehead, I found that he wasn't crying, wasn't trembling anymore, and was just being there, passively being there, and I could tell that he was almost exhausted with worry. Does love always have to hurt, I wondered?

"Oh, Chris... "

My turn: "Shh."



"But..." softer now

"I love you." And I kissed him so fiercely that the stars flashed again, and I felt my heart trying to escape from my chest, and my breathing kind of gave up. And he kissed me back, gently at first, and then hard, and then urgently, and then his hands pressed me into him so close that I felt we were one body. "And I'm going to show you how much I love you."

And I stood him up, and held him, and then started slowly, so slowly to undress him. I started with his trainers, unlacing and removing first the left, then the right, nuzzling him just where his cock was starting to grow into life. I moved to his sweatshirt, and eased it over his head, and extracted each arm from the sleeves, and as the arm came free, I kissed it from fingertips to the elbow, and nibbled each earlobe for good measure. I moved to his waist. No jeans today, but joggers, those baggy things with elastic waist and a tied cord, and elastic ankle cuffs. I undid the cord, and pulled them down, avoiding his cock, now straining to get free, and eased each foot free, taking his socks off one by one. And as each foot was free, I bent my head to it and kissed it, and then moved up his ankle, each ankle to his calf, and to his knee, and above the knee towards his briefs. And I turned him round, and kissed his back, and each leg, and the back of his neck and the back of his knees, and only then reached round to the front to release his rock hard cock from the waistband and lower those briefs, but I didn't touch it. I was careful not to touch it. And I kissed each buttock, each perfect buttock, as I lowered the briefs, and helped him to step out of them. And as I kissed his body, while he was standing there, I escaped from my own clothes, and was behind him, naked, erect and proud, my cockhead clearly outlined through my foreskin, still without touching his cock with any part of me, or any part of him with my cock. And I kissed him all over his back, hat beautiful, strong back, and down his spine, and down the cleft between his buttocks, and he eased his legs apart instinctively as he felt my tongue flicking between them, but that wasn't what I had in mind.

I moved round to his right, and kissed my way round his right buttock to his hip, and then round to see his cock. It was awesome, standing there, wisps of hair at the base, with his balls hanging there just below held in his young, almost hairless, smooth shiny ballsack. And I looked at his cock standing so proud, moist at the tip with precum, foreskin tight over it, cockhead so large inside it that it almost looked like a Braille book. And I wanted to read that book! Kneeling in front of him, I kissed to the left and the right, and kissed those little creases at the top of his thighs, and heard him whimper just quietly with the feelings I was giving him. So slowly, so gently, and as though he was made of porcelain, took the shaft of his velvet smooth cock between the tips of the fingers of each hand, and slid the shaft skin down to the base, making his beautiful foreskin open and withdraw down pulled by the skin of the shaft, giving his cockhead freedom. And I looked at he beautiful, pink, shiny head, with its rim, and tiny slit at the tip weeping with precum, at the little arrow of skin almost joining his foreskin to the head, and at the beautiful colour contrast between the inside of his foreskin and the shaft skin, and I moved forward to kiss his cock, not the head, but the inside of his foreskin where it was stretched down the shaft, and licked up to the arrow of skin, and licked the droplets of precum, sweet and salt at the same time, and slippery and sticky and almost like honey. And he whimpered, and put his hands on my head, and I heard him calling my name quietly and far off.

"Shh, no words, just feelings."

And I sat him down on the bed, and lowered him back, with his head on the pillow, and took his beautiful cock into my mouth, and the shaft between my fingers, and sucked, and licked, and squeezed and fondled, all the while hearing him whimper with every move I made. Then I put my finger down to the tip of my own cock, and rubbed my own precum all over it, and moved his legs apart. I had never seen anyone's anus before, and I didn't know what to expect, but it was beautiful, wrinkled with just the smallest pink hole, right there, in the middle of the wrinkles, and the colour just different from the rest of his wonderful things and buttocks. I put my finger, my index finger, gently onto the wrinkles, then moved it in a slow circle to the pink hole. As I touched it I heard him breath "push, please push", and I pushed my finger, so slowly, so carefully inside where it was hot, and velvet and smooth, and as I did his back arched upwards pushing his cock into my mouth. And deep inside I touched that secret spot, and a gush of precum filled my mouth and I heard him moan, and then, as I worked with my finger deep inside my lover, and sucked his cock with my mouth, and licked his cockhead with my tongue, and massaged his balls with my other hand, I heard him cry out, high pitched, as he bucked and reared in my mouth and coated the back of my throat with his seed. And I though he'd never stop, and I never wanted him to stop, and I sucked so hard that he cried out again and again, and had to push me off him as I sucked so dry I thought his balls would come out through his cock into my mouth.

"I love you, Nigel." And I kissed him, and passed the taste of his cum to him, and held him. And this time no-one wept.

And I stroked his hair as he fell into a doze with a wonderful smile on his face. And, do you know, his cock was still hard, and I just brushed it with my lips as I snuggled up behind him, pressed up with my cock between his thighs, so near to bursting, yet comfortable with it.

Of course, I still had to deal with all my feelings, but that is for another day.