Date: Sun, 30 Jul 2017 07:34:34 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Fourteen again Chapter 65 Fourteen again by badboi666 =============================================================================== This story is - guess what! - fantasy. If sex with boys isn't your thing, go away. If, as is much more likely, you've come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about sex with a 14-year-old then make yourself comfortable - you're in the right place. Remember the three things: 1 Cum 2 Wipe 3 Donate =============================================================================== Chapter 65 We left Taunton behind after breakfast and headed for Glastonbury. It was only 22 miles along the A361, and when we got to the Tor it was still only just after 10 o'clock. Despite that it was already scorching - touching 80 degrees, I reckoned. This was where all the magic was supposed to be centred. It was certainly an impressive sight. Ace locked the bike and we walked up to the top. You could see for ever up there, it seemed. It was a good place to lie on the grass and think about what was about to happen. Today was 30 August. In a mere five days time something so vital would happen for Ace, and King, and all the other gay men (it was the real me thinking, so "gay" was the word in my mind) I knew, and the millions I didn't know. In 5 days time, on 4 September 1957, the Wolfenden Report on Homosexuality would be published. A tiny crack would appear in the impenetrable wall of hostility towards queers, as Ace and everyone like us called themselves. It would take another two generations for the door to disappear, but we - they - were on the threshold. And none of them had the faintest idea. I remembered my dream idea of a few days ago. This magical place where, according to popular belief, all kinds of inexplicable things took place, would be an ideal place for me to have my dream. Ace and I sat down, leaning against St. Michael's Tower at the top of the Tor. It was windless. I told Ace that I felt sleepy. "Me too," he said, "we've had some busy nights. You need your rest." I closed my eyes and let the sound of the summer day fill my mind. Ace slept too, or at least I heard rhythmic breathing. Maybe it was the earth breathing: it was Camelot, after all. When I awoke I realized that I had indeed been sleeping, and sleeping for about three hours to judge by the sun. Luckily I'd been in the shade or I'd have been burnt badly. Ace was nowhere to be seen. He couldn't be far off though. I stretched and prepared to tell him about my dream. An hour later I was getting really worried, and I went back down to where he'd left the bike. It was gone. Panic began to grip me. What could possibly have made him just go without telling me? Was the fairy's gift anything to do with it? Tomorrow was my last day - had it suddenly become 2017, or 2042, while I was asleep? How could I tell? I could hardly ask one of the people milling around in the car park what year it was. Slow down, Peter, you're not 14 remember; think. Do their clothes look 1957? Yes, thank God for that - small boys in shorts and sandals, men in jackets and ties. So here was here and now was now. Ace must have taken the bike into Glastonbury to get something to eat. Coming to this conclusion made me notice how hungry I was: the large breakfast had been several hours ago. I approached a man. "What time is it, please?" "Half past two, sonny," he said. Six hours since breakfast ... then a roar - it got nearer and at last Ace appeared in a cloud of dust. I rushed over to him and threw myself at him, burying my face in his chest and sobbing with relief. "Hey, don't get all excited, what's the matter/" "You went, and I thought ... oh, I don't know what I thought ... I thought I'd lost you." "You daftie," he said, ruffling my hair as though nothing had happened, "didn't you see my note? You were asleep so I went to get something for our lunch, and I left you a note." When we got back up to the top Ace pointed out a large stone only a foot away from where I'd been sleeping. "Look," he said, "clear as anything." And so it was. Sticking out from under the stone was a note. 'Gone into G for grub' it said 'don't leave without me! xx' "Oh Ace, I've been so fucking silly," I said, "but I've had the weirdest dream. Let's eat and I'll tell you about it." The food was a perfect summer picnic. Ace had found somewhere that sold beautiful cold meat slices, and he'd bought a proper crusty loaf and some butter and cheese. He'd even bought a knife. He'd been to an off-licence and come away with three pints of bitter in a sealed bottle. Perfect! As we ate I began my story. How much detail should I give? Do I mention Leo Abse and Boofy Gore (and William), both essential parts of the story? Stonewall? No, better to paint the picture of where we got to, rather than how we got there. After all, the end is more important than the means. "Ace, I dreamed I was standing here, on Glastonbury Tor, on a hot sunny day like this. You came up the hill with another man beside you - I didn't know who he was. Lots of other people came up behind you, men and women, all wearing their best clothes. It was some kind of parade, I think. Then there was a vicar who suddenly appeared and he was marrying you and this other man. Everybody cheered. Nobody was paying any attention to me - I think I must have been invisible. You were an old man suddenly, about 90, and so was the man beside you. You were both very happy. Then there wasn't anybody there at all, just me. I was crying. Then you were beside me again - you, just like you are now - the Ace I love, and you put your arms round me. Then I was an old, old man and I was putting my arms round you and we were both crying and I was saying ssh! ssh! it's going to be all right, just give it time. And then I woke up. And Ace, it seemed so incredibly real. I think this place really is special, and that I saw what was actually going to happen when we're old men. Men will marry and no-one will give a toss." Ace snorted. "And pigs might fly, Jack." Give it time, I thought bitterly. The struggle will be long and hard, but in five days time a crack will appear ... There wasn't anything I could add. I desperately wanted to tell Ace how things changed for the better in the next 50 or so years, but of course it was impossible. I knew, and if he lived long enough he would know. I wondered if he would remember my telling him about my dream on Glastonbury Tor all those years ago. I shook myself - too much agonizing over things I could do nothing about. The meat and cheese were long gone, as was most of the loaf. I broke the last bits and threw them about for any birds brave enough to come close. The beer was finished (two pints for Ace and one for me). Gay rights might be about to start the very long and tortuous process, but some things would go decidedly backwards in the next 50 years, and the quality and availability of decent local beer was one of them. We leant back against the Tower, replete and happy. It would have been nice to think that we would spend years together like this. After a while I roused myself and said, "Come on, Ace, race you down." We reached the bike together. For the first time I took the trouble to look at it properly. "Peter knew what this was," I said, "Triumph something?" "Thunderbird. It's pretty much the best bike there is - well, the best we could afford. King and I spent ages looking around, and this is what we chose. D'you like it? I mean, is it good to ride pillion? We've never done it." I explained that it was the most exhilarating thing I'd done, but I couldn't compare it to riding anything else because his was only the second bike I'd been on, and I hadn't paid any attention to Bill's. Ace was dismissive. "Bill's is an old heap. This is class, my boy." It was a throw-away expression, but the words 'my boy' really made me glow. "Come on then. Stonehenge?" I nodded happily, all introspection gone for the time being. There wasn't a lot of the present left, and I wasn't going to waste any more of it. Half an hour later, we were there. Modern readers, accustomed to the appalling things that Authority has done at Stonehenge over the years, will be startled to know that in 1957 it was possible to park, to walk to the stones, to climb on the stones if you were a child (or an adult, for all I knew, but I'd only ever been a child at Stonehenge) and generally to enjoy yourself without restriction. It wasn't just the beer that was going to go downhill. The real me had been there and done these things a few years before 1957, and nothing had yet changed. I was glad that Ace was sharing this with me. We walked into the big circle and, like everybody else, we stood in wonder at how our megalithic forebears had actually built the thing. "I don't know about you," said Ace thoughtfully, "but this place seems more mysterious to me than Glastonbury did. There you saw something about the future; here I feel the past reaching out to tell me things." "Oh Ace," I said, hugging him, "that's what I love about you. I never know what you're going to say next. What does the past tell you?" "I'm not sure," he said, "but it's not frightening. I don't feel spooky. In fact just the opposite - I feel really calm, almost as though inside this circle nothing outside still matters. In here we're in a magic place where we're the only living things apart from the spirits of the past. Blimey, listen to me. I don't normally talk like this." "Ace," I said gently, "this isn't a normal place; I feel comfortable here too. Let's stay here for a while." He nodded. It was immensely still. Suddenly I sat bolt upright. "What's the matter?" asked Ace. "Nothing - I've just had a brilliant idea. Let's sleep here, in the circle. If it's really magic maybe something will happen." Ace grinned. "Doubt it, but I think we should give it a try." He looked at his watch. "It's half past four. If we go now we should be able to buy a sleeping bag in Amesbury - it's only a couple of miles." We were in luck. There was an outdoor shop still open ("You're lucky, young sirs, we close in a few minutes, but take your time, there's no hurry") and Ace found a large double sleeping bag and a blow-up mattress. I insisted on paying, and on having a pump as well. When we got out of the shop it dawned on us that we were going to have some difficulty getting the stuff back to Stonehenge, so Ace knocked on the shop door. "Thanks for opening again. Can you sell me a couple of straps so that we can get the stuff home?" The shopkeeper smiled when he saw me and the bike, and worked out what the problem was. "I have just the thing," he said, and five minutes later I was trussed inside a large contraption of mattress and bag. Thank goodness we had only a couple of miles to go. Ace thanked the man and promised we wouldn't disturb him again. "What about food?" I asked from inside my burden. "Oh fuck!" said Ace, "I forgot about that. You stay here with the bike and I'll walk till I find somewhere. OK?" I didn't have much choice about it, so I agreed. "Don't be long though, I'm boiling in here." He leant close and whispered in my ear. I grinned and nodded. I had to agree that we would both be boiling in a few hours Ace was back within 15 minutes. Luckily whatever he had bought went in the panniers on either side. He helped me back on, and we rode back to Stonehenge at a very sedate 40 mph. More than that and I'd have been blown off. When we got there the place was almost deserted - only two other parties were there. "Let's wait here with the bike until they've gone," said Ace, "we don't want to be turfed out." An old couple came slowly back and got into an ancient pre-war Hillman. The other group - Mum, Dad and two kids - were soon back, the children full of excitement about the stones and the stories their father was still telling them about the giants who had built them. When they were safely away Ace and I walked back to the circle, me still strapped in like a bloody camel. Ace undid me and we spread the bedding out. I pumped up the mattress while Ace sorted out the food. "When do you want to eat?" he asked, "it's six now, and it won't be dark until about nine." I thought a moment and said that it would be romantic to eat just while it was getting dark. Ace chuckled, "Yeah, I can see where you're going." "I hope you'll be coming with me," I said softly. He put down what was in his hands and took me in his arms. "Jack, I'll be with you every single day for the rest of my life," he said. "I've never felt like this before, and I think I'll explode if I feel it any stronger. You've turned my whole life on its head, and I've never been so happy before." He held me tight, and I could feel waves of his love crashing over me. I wanted so much for him to make love to me there and then, and for it to last for ever. The moment passed, as they do, and I knew that the short time I had left must be made the most intense hours of my life. I had so much to give this man, and so few ways of giving. There was something I had to do now though. "Ace, I want you to have the money I brought with me. It'll be safer with you." (I had no idea what would happen to my clothes and kit after the fairy's month was over.) "I can't take it," he said. "Of course you can, Ace, remember that 'with all my worldly goods' stuff? What's mine is ours, so please take it." He smiled. "OK, but it's yours to spend." "No," I said gently, "it's ours to spend." We placed the mattress at the foot of the largest trilithon, facing what would have been the altar. The sleeping bag was big enough for what we needed. The picnic was set out. We waited quietly, each of drinking in the nearness of the other. Neither of us spoke for ages: neither of us needed to. After a while I took his hand and stroked it. I heard him sigh. I looked over and saw his face was wet with tears. I kissed them away. "Oh Ace, Ace, I love you so much," I murmured. He took me in his arms and we kissed passionately, heedless of the spirits of the ancients. When our kiss was done the sun had almost set. It was time to eat. Amesbury had done us proud. Ace had found a Melton Mowbray pie and a chunk of Stilton. He had added another crusty loaf and a bottle of red wine. I looked at the bottle doubtfully. "Don't worry," he said, producing a Swiss Army knife with a corkscrew, "we're all set." It's curious, and has been widely remarked in literature, that a meal eaten al fresco with friends tasted immeasurably finer than the same meal set out on a table. There was nothing left, apart from the last bit of the loaf and a tiny amount of wine. "Don't finish it," I said, "leave some for the spirits. I got up and took the crust and the bottle to where the altar would have been. I put the bread down and poured the last drops of wine onto the ground, bowing before leaving. Ace laughed. "I didn't think you were superstitious." "Oh indeed I am," I said, "I'm incredibly ancient too, don't forget." "Who are you really, Jack?" he murmured when I was back in his arms leaning against the still warm stone. "You know exactly who I am," I whispered," I am a gorgeous sexy boy who is the centre of your universe. I am the gorgeous sexy boy you're going to take to bed and bring to the highest peak of frenzied ecstasy. I am -" I could say no more because Ace's lips were on mine, crushing any further speech. We broke apart only for the few seconds it took to strip off and throw our clothes to one side. Naked we embraced again, our mouths greedy for each other. He pushed me down onto the sleeping bag and made love to me with an urgency that neither of us had experienced with each other before. He lasted less than a minute, as did I. As we panted, still coupled, he said, "Right, gorgeous sexy boy, that was only for starters." I smiled and reached up to kiss his lips. "Good." We made love three more times that night in the middle of Stonehenge. =============================================================================== badboi666@btinternet.com is where you should sent comments and suggestions. Make sure you drop something Nifty's way at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html