Date: Fri, 23 Apr 1999 00:06:09 -0700 (PDT) From: bpell@anon.nymserver.com Subject: Chronicles of St.barnabas chapter8 8. The Ascent of Mt. Riley The flu epidemic lasted two weeks, decimating the classes and sending boys in droves to the tender mercies of Miss F-nema. Ronnie Riley avoided the plague until the very end, suc- cumbing to it just when the infirmary was empty of boys for the first time. By the end of the week he was almost well, so that Miss E., who certainly deserved a rest from all her ministrations, didn't feel uneasy about carrying out her long-standing plan to visit her sister in Boston that weekend. Ordinarily, Mrs. Fox, the ancient housemother, would have filled in for her, but she was laid up in bed with a painful attack of gout, so I nobly offered to look in on the boy at frequent intervals. As I had gained something of a reputa- tion as a Florence Nightingale after the Timmy Tucker affair, my offer was gratefully accepted. It was a free weekend, meaning that the boys were free to go home, if they lived nearby, or to a friend's house if they didn't, leaving after classes on Friday and returning on Sunday in time to sing the morning service. As this was the last free weekend before Lent, we managed to farm out even the undesirables, so there were no boys left at school- except Ronnie. And very few masters: only Percy Plimpton, who had no place to go, and Lemon Joe, who had no desire to go anywhere. Even the Head was off, at some conference or other. It was almost too good to be true. I just hoped that Mrs. Fox's gout kept on paining her, not that she was much of a threat anyway, in her feeble condition. I went down to see Ronnie, padding through the deserted corridors so recently echoing to the voices of jubilant boys, now deathly silent. Ronnie was lying on his side, facing the wall. I sat down on the bed, surprising him, for he had been dozing. "Oh, it's you, sir. I thought it was Miss E." "No such luck, She's gone for the weekend." "She has?" "Yes, and so has everyone else, or nearly so." "How about Foxy?" "She's here. Got the gout again. How are you feeling?" "Pretty good, but it gets pretty boring here." "Want to come up to the dorm ?19 "Yes, sir!" He started to get out of bed, but I pushed him back. "Only if your temperature is normal," I said, shaking down the thermometer on the nightstand and slipping it under his tongue. "Sir, is it true that-" "No talking! And keep it under your tongue." I pretended to take his pulse, but I lost count of the beats, not knowing which were his and which were mine. Then, still playing doctor, I undid his pajama top and thumped his chest. "That's not how you-" "You keep your mouth closed or I'll flip you on your belly and take it the other way!" "Sir!" he mumbled through clenched teeth. "You wouldn't. Anyway, you need the right kind of thermometer." "Oh, wouldn't I!" I said, thinking of Timmy. "And I know just where she keeps the other kind, too. She uses it on Squogs, you know. Or you would know if you had been here as a Squog. So you just keep still, sonny boy, or you'll get the Squog treatment." He flushed, but said no more. I thumped his chest and poked his belly, making him giggle, The tent- pole started to rise. His temperature was normal, so he put on his bathrobe and slippers and came with me to the dorm. It was early, only about seven, and there was a lot of time to kill before bedtime. I didn't want to start anything for a while, so we played games and chatted for a couple of hours. He was a very chatty boy when he was in the mood. He had been dozing all day, and wasn't nearly ready for bed. At about nine o'clock he said, "Sir, can I take a bath in your bathtub?" This was a privilege I sometimes extended to a boy; it was considered a great treat to be allowed to wallow in a real bathtub for a change. I was delighted at Ronnie's asking for this treat now, and ran a nice hot bath while he watched, chewing on the end of his bathrobe cord. When the bath was drawn he said, "Well, I guess I'll get in now." "I'd suggest taking off your pajamas first," I said, making no move to leave. "You have a point there, sir," he said, undoing the cord and slipping off his bathrobe. I watched him as he unbut- toned his pajama shirt and took it off, then pulled the string on the pants, causing them to fall to his ankles. I marveled at the beauty of his body as he bent to step out of them, then gingerly dipped one toe into the water. "Too hot? I'll run a little cold." He stood with his weight on one leg as I adjusted the bath temperature, then placing one hand on my shoulder he stepped in, gradually lowering his body until he was submerged. "Do you want some bubbles?" "Oh, yes, sir." I poured in a capful and ran the water to froth it up. Soon only his head was visible above the cloud of bubbles. I got my camera and flash and took a few shots of him just like that. Then I said, "Show us a bit more of you," and he stuck his knees above the foam, then sat up, and finally, at my bidding, turned over. With a bit of coaxing I got a nice shot in which just the two summits of his bottom showed above the cloud of bubble. Knowing that boys like to be left alone in their baths, I went back and built a small fire in the fireplace. I made some cocoa on my hot-plate, turned down the bedcovers, and peeked in at the boy. He was half asleep in the tub. I ran a bit more hot water in the tub, took the soap and a washcloth, and started in on his cars, neck and back. Then he lay back while I began at the other end: toes, calves, ankles, knees, and thighs. Ah, such lovely thighs! "Now for the middle," I said. "Raise up on your knees." He did so, and I soaped his bottom and his cock and balls until he was richly lathered fore and aft. "I always save the best for last," I said, as I went to work with both hands, one hand soaping his balls and prick, which by now was stiff, the other working in between his soapy buttocks. I rubbed some soap against his anus, and then slid my soapy hand back and forth between his legs. "There. I guess you're reasonably clean now," I said. "Yes, sir, I don't think you missed anywhere." I rinsed him off, and when he was out of the tub I took a huge towel and wrapped it around him. "Let's go in by the fire," I said. "You can dry off there." He stood in front of the fire, toasting first his front and then his backside, lazily drying himself at the same time. I took a few more pictures with flash; then deciding I wanted the firelight effect, I posed him sitting nude on the rug before the fire, legs curled under him, gazing into the fire. I put the camera on a tripod and took a time exposure. I have the picture before me as I write. He drank his hot cocoa, still sitting naked on the rug. I sat behind him on the ottoman and dried his hair until it was silky and golden. I kissed his neck, drinking in the sweet smell of soap and boy. He leaned back and let his head nestle into my lap. I played with his hair, his neck, and his nipples. His nipples were enlarged, as often happens in pubescent boys; he liked having them stroked. When he had first noticed their enlargement, earlier in the year, he had come to me in a panic, fearing that he was "growing tits." But when I assured him it was normal, he took pride in his "titties" and never failed to become aroused when I played with them. The scene was idyllic, just me and the nude boy in front of the fire, but it was difficult for me to accomplish my aims there; I had to maneuver him into bed. Finally he gave a long slow yawn and I said, "Bedtime," raising him to his feet and herding him toward the door to the bedroom. "Where are we going?" he asked. "To bed, of course. Isn't that where one usually goes when one is tired?" He said nothing at first, just looking at me. Then he said, "What about my pajamas?" "You won't be needing them," I said, slipping my arm around his waist. He gave me a long, slow look, then allowed me to lead him into the bedroom. He looked at the bed, with the covers turned down, and said, "Am I to sleep here... all night?" "Umm-hmm. Unless, of course, you'd rather go back to that hard little bed in the infirmary." "Nope, I guess not, but-" "Of course you can always change your mind later on." "Yes, sir." He gave me another look, and this time he let me know with his eyes that whatever doubt or confusion had previously existed as to my intentions no longer lingered; he knew just what to expect. I watched his nude body as he slipped under the covers and moved neatly over to the far side of the bed. It was the side I needed to be on, to be near my lubricants. "Do you mind sleeping on this side of the bed?" I asked. "I'm left-handed or something." He moved over, then lay with his hands behind his head, looking at me, as I quickly undressed. He said nothing, not even when my rigid cock sprang out of my shorts. He was ready for it. I locked the door, flicked out the lights, and got into bed beside him. I ran my hands over his silky skin and drew him against me. We embraced and kissed in the dark. I slipped one leg between his thighs and pulled him closer, stroking his back and buttocks. He tightened up when my finger touched his hole, so I gave that up for the time being. I let my fingers graze lightly up and down his back while I kissed him passionately. Then, moving down, I licked his firm little nipples, kissed his soft stomach all over, and, cupping his round behind in one hand, took his hard prick between my lips, first nibbling on the tender tip, then licking the under- side, and finally allowing the whole shaft to enter my mouth. I made my mouth as tight as possible, t6 give him the sensation of tight penetration, and worked his rod in and out, tickling his balls with my free hand. By this time he was writhing and twisting on the bed. His passion was rising quickly, but I didn't want him to reach his climax yet, so I turned him over, spread his legs apart, and pushed my tongue down against his hole. He gave a little shiver as my tongue rimmed his small hole, which still tasted of soap from his bath. Then I worked my tongue into the tiny opening, pushing it in and out. He arched his bottom so I could get further in. He really loved it, the little devil, so I grabbed him hard and drove in as far as I could. Then I paused, sitting up and stroking his buttocks, while reaching towards the nightstand. He heard me unscrewing the jar of Vaseline and said, "What are you doing?" Instead of answering, I scooped some out and showed it to him. "What is it?" "Just Vaseline." I tried to sound casual. "What for?" He was up on his elbows now, his back arched inward, accentuating the mounds of his bottom. "To lubricate your behind," I said. "I didn't know you were going to do that!" "Of course, silly, what did you expect?" "I don't know." Boys are hard to figure out sometimes. I would have thought it would be obvious that I intended to fuck him. One never knew about kids. "You can always change your mind and go back to the infirmary," I said. "No, sir, I'll stay." "Good. Airight, then." And I parted his cheeks and pushed the fingerload of Vaseline against his rosebud. I worked it around the opening until it was nice and slippery, but when I tried to push my finger in he tightened up and gasped. It was not going to be easy. "Roll over on your side. No, the other way. That's it." I pulled his bottom back against my cock, which slid in be- tween his well-lubricated buttocks and came to rest against his anus. I pushed a bit. He pulled away. I tried again. Again he resisted. "Ronnie," I said, "try to relax." "Sir, I can't help it. I'm sore back there. Miss E. gave me a big enema this morning." Curses on Miss E. But come to think of it, he certainly hadn't complained about my tongue. Maybe he was just being coy. Maybe he just didn't want to get fucked. One never knew about boys. They had strange prejudices sometimes. "It won't hurt, once I get it in," I said. "Just try to relax." I pushed against him again. "Please, sir, do you have to do that tonight?" "Yes!" "I mean, it's been a great evening so far, and, well, isn't there something else we could do instead?" I thought for a bit. There really was only one other thing, but I wanted him to suggest it. "Like?" "Like what you were doing to me before. I could do it to YOU." "Oh, come on, Ronnie, stop mincing words. What is it you are suggesting." "I could suck you." "Would you like to?" "I'd rather do that than the other." "Mincing words again. You really don't want me to fuck you, do you? It's no big deal you know, being fucked. Lots of boys get tucked all the time, and like it. There are probably thousands of boys all over the world getting fucked right at this minute. Did you ever think of that?" "No, sir, I never did." "You know that if I don't fuck you tonight it's just putting it off." "Let's put it off, then, sir. We could do the other thing." Well, I thought it would be very nice being sucked off by Ronnie. His bottom could wait until tomorrow. It wasn't quite as good as getting into his behind, but it was a very good substitute. Besides, I didn't want to spoil the evening by forcing him. "Okay," I said. I went into the bathroom and washed off my cock, which had meanwhile gotten limp. When I retur- ned to the bedroom he was lying on his back with his arms behind his head. I slid into bed next to him and pulled him close to me, caressing his nude body. The warmth of his soft skin soon rekindled my fire, and within a few minutes I was rampant. I sat him up and bent him forward, drawing his head down toward my cock. He opened his lips and took my cock right in. He was awkward at first, and I gave him a few instructions which he did his best to follow. I played with his hair with my right hand, while my left stroked his back and buttocks. When I had him on the right track I maneuvered into position so I could suck him too. It had occurred to me that he could learn the tricks faster by imitation than by lecture. I took his cock into my mouth again and showed him how to use his tongue, how to vary the tempo, how to do short strokes and long ones. He did pretty well for a beginner. I kept on stroking his behind while we worked away on each other's cocks. I was getting there quite quickly, but as a matter of fact he beat me: suddenly, with almost no warning, he started spurting into my mouth. I drove my finger into his behind and milked his juice, swallowing his boyish come as he spurted into my mouth, his loins jerking with the release of his love-juice. During his orgasm he had slowed up his efforts on my organ, allowing my juice to recede somewhat. Now I urged him on, sitting up to direct the final steps, stroking his back with one hand, I held his head down with the other, running my fingers through his soft hair as his mouth worked up and down. The sight of my own cock plunging in and out of his boyish mouth, feeling the slippery heat inside, soon brought me to a climax. I grasped his head to hold it firmly but gently in place as I felt my juice rising and overflowing. I pumped my warm milk into the child's mouth. He took the first spurt alright, but then he gagged and began choking. I guess it was just too much for him. To his credit, he did not spit out my cock, however, but kept it in his mouth until I was milked dry. Then he sat up, wiped off his mouth, and said, "I guess I'm not much good at it." "You're great," I said, "just great." "I'll do better next time," he said, flopping down wearily beside me. "It wasn't so bad, then?" "Well, sir, to tell you the truth, I didn't like it all that much, but I liked your doing it to me, and after all it's only fair to return the favor." "Very nicely put," I said; I drew him close to me, put my arm around him, and kissed him. We both drifted off to sleep. I soon woke up, however, to find that he had shifted his position so that his back was toward me, his pretty, virginal bottom up against my groin, as if to say, "Fuck me, please, sir." I cupped his cock and balls in my hand and pretty soon his cock got hard. He gave a long, deep sigh in his sleep. I pressed my cock between his buttocks, which were still well-lubricated from my prior attempt at penetration. I pressed against his little hole, but when I pushed too hard he pulled away. I pulled him back toward me again very gently, letting my shaft sink deeper between his warm buttocks; but if I tried to push into his pucker, he pulled away again, so I stopped trying to penetrate his bottom, and contented myself with slowly sliding my shaft in and out between his well-lubricated buttocks, holding him tight around the waist and fondling his little jewels as I fucked his cheeks. Having had an orgasm so recently, I.did not feel my juice rise as I had hoped it would. Soon my strokes grew slower and slower as I became tired. I paused, the tip of my shaft resting against his pucker. I dozed off with my cock nestled between his warm buttocks. Again my sleep was interrupted, this time by dreams. Stirring into consciousness, I found myself in the same position, my rod still lodged between his warm cheeks. Somewhat refreshed from my nap, I began working in and out again. Now and then he moved a little in his sleep, and it took only a few of these small movements to bring my juice up. I pushed in as far as I dared and pumped my hot juice right up against his virgin bud. After spending copiously between the boy's warm but- tock cheeks, I wiped him off, took him in my arms, and drifted off once again. This time I didn't wake until the warm shafts of the morning sun falling on my face through the slats of the venetian blinds brought me into conscious- ness. Ronnie was still in my arms, his head nestled against my shoulder. I buried my nose in his hair, drinking in the special smell of boy-hair which is unlike anything in the world. With every exhalation his warm breath tickled my chest. His bare belly moved in and out against mine. I nibbled on his ear and ran my hands down his back over his bare buttocks. I wanted to fuck him so badly! I decided to do a little investigating while he was still asleep. Reaching for the Vaseline, I scooped some out and, separating his soft pliant buttocks, worked some down in between them. After lubricating the passage, I worked my finger in a little way. He was very tight. I stopped, then pushed a little further, until I got in up to the knuckle. I left it there until he relaxed a bit, then started pushing it further up. He muttered some- thing. I withdrew part-way just as he woke up. "Bad dream?" I asked. "Yes. Miss E. was up to her tricks." "Just me, up to mine," I said, giving my finger a little wiggle. Realizing suddenly that there was indeed something in his bottom he immediately tightened up. I wondered how Miss E. ever managed to get the nozzle in! I made no motion to remove my finger, but left it there in his bottom as he hovered between sleep and wakefulness, now and then flexing his sphincter muscles as if to determine whether or not it was still there. Then he reached down for my cock. Finding it hard and raring to go, he sat up, causing my finger to slip out of his bottom. I noticed his cock was stiff, but wasn't sure whether this was from excitement or a full bladder. I got up to pee, and he followed me into the bathroom. Our streams crossed in the bowl. Then we got back into bed. I was still rather sleepy, but Ronnie was in a playful mood. I lay down on my back and he sat on my stomach. I loved the feeling of his warm body on mine. I pulled him up so that he was sitting on my chest, then he inched his cock, now hard again, right up to my chin. I took it in my mouth and toyed with it for a while. Then I turned him around and had him kneel with his cock over my face. Slowly he lowered it into my mouth. When he was well-positioned to be sucked (and, incidentally, to having his ass played with) I suggested that he could suck me at the same time. It was rather a difficult maneuver, but we managed it fairly well. Soon he was sucking away on my cock, while his own was pumping in and out of my mouth and my fingers were roaming freely over his nicely exposed behind. I wrapped my legs around his head and pumped my cock in and out of his warm mouth. At the same time as he pumped his cock into my mouth I worked a Vaselined finger into his out-thrust asshole. My digital massage of his rectal canal had the desired effect: soon he was spurting into my mouth again, and before long I was also coming in his. This time he swallowed every drop. In the shower together, soaping each other all over, we were in fine spirits, so much so that the noise of the shower almost drowned out the sound of the rising bell. I got Ronnie back to the inf irmary on the double. I hadjust tucked him in when Sarah, the kitchen maid, came in with his breakfast tray. "And how are we this morning, duck?" she asked. "Starved!" said the boy.