I think we have disclaimed quite enough for one series; if you don’t know the coup by now that’s tough!
The story continues and Patrick’s back at school. Will he find a new friend to replace Brian? Read on and find out!
Feedback is welcome as always; please send your comments to email@example.com and I’ll reply as soon as I can. And a special word to PEJ from Madison, Wisconsin; I did reply to your e-mail, but it bounced back. Twice! Please send from a different e-mail addy if you have one.
HARTSWOOD PRIORY – SNAPSHOT SIX
PATRICK & FRIENDS PART FIVE
Patrick and Gary met frequently for the remainder of the school holiday. They always had sex; that was the whole point. To an extent they enjoyed each other’s company and their sexual exploits were never less than exhilarating, but they weren’t really friends; they had too little in common. And they certainly weren’t boyfriends; there simply wasn’t the commitment to each other that Patrick and Brian had enjoyed. Their meetings served a purpose and that was as far as it went.
Back at school, Patrick was in the throes of settling in again. Now in Lower Fourth, Eagle Dorm, where he and his friends had been housed the previous year, had been swapped for Priestley, on the ground floor of the new accommodation block. He was pleased that there had been no changes of teacher; he was still under the care of all the masters with whom he’d prospered so well the year before. There was no Brian, of course. That was a big loss, but Brian had moved on, there was no use in dwelling on it; it was part of boarding school life.
He wondered if he’d find an older friend this year. Now that he was ‘soiled goods’, to use Brian’s expression, would any of the stars of this year’s Upper Fourth want him? The only comfort was that Lee and Deon were in the same position. By contrast, Simon was still proudly going with Pascal Donnelly, known to everyone as Paz, the Irish boy who had started at the school the same day that Patrick had. Securing Paz as his older friend had proved to be quite a coup; the Irish lad had grown considerably in the last few months and now ranked in prestige alongside the likes of Toby Redman and Robert Shearsby.
Patrick was somewhat surprised to find that Leo’s prediction about the way that Mr. Burman would behave towards him was borne out within the first week. The music master was even more attentive than he had been the year before, and at his very first piano lesson, the man invited him to attend a concert with him at the Royal Albert Hall. This would, of course, involve him spending the night at Mr. Burman’s London flat, as the concert finished too late for them to get back to school at an acceptable hour.
Patrick sadly but firmly declined. He would have loved to attend the concert; he wouldn’t even have minded staying in London overnight, but that was not the whole story and he knew it. Of course, Mr. Burman wouldn’t have forced him to have sex, but the situation was more complicated than that. Leo’s relationship with Mr. Burman had been an open secret. By accepting the invitation he would be inheriting Leo’s mantle of ‘Mr. Burman’s boy’. Everybody would think he was having sex with the man whether he was or not.
Without an older friend on the horizon, even the prospect of having sex with his music teacher was not that unappealing. But he was not going to do it. Leo’s parents couldn’t have cared less. They sent him to boarding school to get him out of the way. They were so busy that they never even attended concerts to hear him perform. So he’d turned to Mr. Burman for support.
That wasn’t the position that he was in. While his mum was alive, his dad had stayed pretty much in the background, but since her death he had done everything he could to make sure that Patrick was settled and happy. Patrick wasn’t at boarding school because his dad wanted to get rid of him; he was there because there was no other choice His dad had shown remarkable understanding in accepting his sexuality; he had even welcomed Brian into their home. Patrick knew how lucky he was. But having sex with one of the teachers was a different matter entirely; his dad would never be able to accept that. He would feel badly let down. He would remove Patrick from Hartswood and send him somewhere else. Patrick felt a strong sense of duty; his mum’s death had been a massive loss for both him and his dad. After all the understanding his dad had shown, letting him down was simply unthinkable.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
The cross-country team had their first training session on the Thursday of the first week. Mr. Thompson was hoping to recruit a few more boys in the weeks ahead, but the core group that he’d established the year before was still together. For their first run they set off quite steadily as they often did. However, when Mr. Thompson allowed them to open up and run as fast as they wanted, Patrick got an unwelcome surprise. Martin Greenhall simply ran away from him; he seemed to be running well enough but he wasn’t able to keep up. It had never happened before and it worried him. The only consolation was that Jamie Barnett couldn’t keep up with Martin either.
After the run and a set of eight sprints they headed back to the changing room. Patrick went across to Mr. Thompson.
“Sir,” he said. “I seemed to be struggling a bit today. I couldn’t keep up with Martin at all; I always have before. D’you think something’s wrong?”
“Oh, you mustn’t worry about that,” Mr. Thompson said, smiling warmly. “Martin’s been out training four times a week all through the summer holiday. He’d have done more than that if I’d let him. And he’s a year older than you, remember. He’s getting pretty strong now; I wouldn’t be surprised to see him up with Craig before long.”
“Thanks sir,” Patrick said, suddenly feeling much better again.
“There’s another thing too,” Mr. Thompson said quietly. “Martin isn’t like you; outside class running is the only thing he takes part in. He hasn’t got all the other commitments that you have. It’s much easier for him to fit the training in.”
It all made perfect sense; Patrick guessed that he’d just have to be patient. He certainly wasn’t going to give up; he’d be letting Mr. Thompson down and his dad would be very disappointed. And maybe in a year’s time he’d be running as well as Martin was.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
They were into the second week of term. Patrick had not acquired an older friend, neither had Deon. Lee had though. Lee, definitely the most athletic of the group, had been selected for the school rugby team. He’d be playing hooker, quite the most dangerous position on the pitch, a smaller boy supported and surrounded by bigger ones in the middle of what amounted to a human battering ram. To play in that position you needed to be strong but fairly compact, as brave as a lion, as tough as old boots and slightly mad. Lee qualified on all fronts. He’d become the younger friend of one of his team mates, Adam Hayward, who played alongside him in the front row of the pack.
It seemed an odd choice. Giles had been elegant and cultured; Adam was neither. He was one of the toughest boys in the school, not much over five feet tall but very powerfully built, and one of the few that could be as aggressive as Toby Redman. He wasn’t ugly, but he certainly wouldn’t have been classed as good looking, though Patrick had noted when seeing him in the showers that he did have an impressively large penis. But Lee liked him and that was all that mattered.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Patrick made his way towards the main door onto the playground. He was feeling more nervous than he had in a long time. Something very odd had occurred. The previous day Toby had asked to meet him after supper outside the art room. When he’d got there Toby had taken him into the trunk store for which he had mysteriously acquired a key, and asked him if he would be interested in becoming the younger friend of Justin Armstrong, known as Tigger, another rugby team member and one of Toby’s closest associates, the story being that Justin was too shy to have approached Patrick himself.
Patrick didn’t really know Justin, but he did know that he was the best student in Upper Fourth and one of the group that would be entered for the Public Schools’ Scholarship examinations. Everyone seemed to speak well of him too. That was perfectly good enough; he’d accepted without giving it a second thought. When he told them about it later that evening, his friends in Priestley dorm were much amused by what had happened, but they gave wholehearted approval to his decision to accept Justin’s offer. The consensus was that Justin might not he the best looking boy in Upper Fourth, but his looks were perfectly okay and he was really nice; Patrick should consider himself very lucky to have landed him.
As he approached the door, Toby and Justin were waiting. They were chatting and joking, or at least that’s what it looked like. As he got closer, Toby gave Justin a playful punch on the arm and sauntered off. Justin gave Patrick a nervous grin and turned, heading towards the sports pavilion. Patrick waited for a moment then followed at a discreet distance. He found Justin in their appointed hiding place. The older boy’s lack of experience was readily apparent; he looked as nervous as a kitten. Patrick smiled at him, drawing him into a hug, his arms his hands running down the boy’s back and over his bottom. He wanted to kiss him, but Justin was several inches taller than he was. That, Patrick decided, would have to wait.
He released his older friend, grinned and pulled off his polo shirt before helping Justin to remove his. Justin grinned back. He wasn’t classically good looking in the way that Brian had been, but with his short fair hair, slightly uneven teeth and a light dusting of freckles over his nose, in his own way he was very cute, and he had a wonderfully engaging smile. He had a nice body too, Patrick observed, lean and athletic. He held the boy again, running his hand over the front of Justin’s shorts and stroking his penis. Up to that point, Justin’s nervousness had prevented him from becoming aroused, but Patrick’s attentions soon remedied that. The older boy’s penis certainly wasn’t small, Patrick was pleased to note.
He stepped back a fraction, opening the clip at the top of Justin’s shorts and pulled down the zip. They fell to the ground. Justin kicked off his shoes and stepped out of them. Now it was his turn. He was so nervous, his hand seemed to be composed entirely of thumbs, but after a few seconds he achieved his objective, Patrick’s shorts falling around his ankles, the boy’s small penis making an inviting bulge in his white briefs.
Patrick reached forward, pulling down Justin’s underpants. At five inches Justin’s penis was longer than Brian’s, the shiny purple head completely exposed. It was thicker than Brian’s too, though nowhere like as far around as Gary’s. Above it, a few sandy coloured hairs were beginning to appear. Large, low-hanging balls completed the picture, hinting at the large amount of semen that the boy could produce.
“Beautiful cock!” Patrick breathed, his eyes widening.
He knelt down, taking it into his mouth. He sucked it steadily, going further down each time, working his tongue all over it. Justin leant back against the pavilion wall, trying to steady himself. He ruffled the younger lad’s hair, emitting quiet moans of pleasure as Patrick transported him to a world he hadn’t even dreamed of. Sensing the imminence of Justin’s orgasm, Patrick pulled away. He looked up, grinning mischievously.
“Man!” Justin gasped. “That was something else!”
Patrick got to his feet. They stood facing each other. Very gently, Justin lowered Patrick’s briefs. He caught his breath; up close, the boy was even more beautiful than he’d thought. Patrick ran his hands down the back of Justin’s thighs. Their penises touched, sending shockwaves of pleasure through Justin’s body.
“Do you want to bum me?” Patrick whispered.
“Is that okay?” Justin asked nervously.
“Yeah!” Patrick responded, smiling warmly. “I like having it up the bum! You don’t mind that I’ve taken it before, do you?”
“No, but you're mine now, aren’t you?” Justin said.
“Yeah!” Patrick confirmed. “Of course I am!”
He retrieved the KY from the pocket of his shorts, guessing that as it was Justin’s first time he probably wouldn’t have any. He handed it over and got down on all fours. This would be his third time in less than twenty four hours. Toby had bummed him the previous evening, after their little chat, but that was their secret and had to remain that way. Then at half past five that morning Deon had crawled into his bed. Though still the smallest boy in the dorm, Deon was actually the oldest, having reached the age of twelve a few days previously. His penis was noticeably larger than it had been the previous year and he could now ejaculate, not in any great quantity, but ejaculate he certainly did. Although Deon still enjoyed the bottom role, their morning activities always ended the same way. Patrick would lie on his tummy, the pillow under his hips, while Deon lay on top and fucked him.
Justin squeezed some KY onto his fingers and worked it carefully into Patrick’s bottom. He’d known for some time that such things went on; Toby and Robert had been with younger friends for the past year, but he hadn’t been interested back then. But since Easter he had grown prodigiously, and like so many boys of his age, sex had become a constant preoccupation. Frequent masturbation had provided some relief, but knew that having a younger boy to provide for his sexual needs would be so much better. As an established member of the school rugby team he was entitled to have a younger friend, but there was a problem. Although easy going and confident around people he knew well, he was otherwise rather shy, and in this context the problem had been particularly acute. He considered himself an ugly duckling, and found it hard to believe that any of the younger boys that he was attracted to would want an older friend like him.
The reality was somewhat different. Although he didn’t have Robert’s chiselled good looks or Toby’s somewhat raffish ‘bad boy’ appearance, he was by no means ugly, his recently acquired height and strong, athletic physique more than compensating for any deficiencies in the facial department. Moreover, once the ice had been broken, his warm, generous nature came shining through. And shine through it had, so here he was, about to fulfil his wildest fantasy with one of the most beautiful boys in the entire school.
He removed his fingers from Patrick’s rectum, squeezed out a little more KY and smeared it over his penis. He crawled in close, guiding it onto Patrick’s sphincter. He pushed hard. Patrick relaxed, allowing Justin to penetrate him. He gasped almost inaudibly, the sharp, stabbing pain reminding him that Justin’s penis was considerably larger than either Toby’s or Deon’s. Moments later the pain was forgotten, overtaken by the unbelievable tingling sensation of the older boy thrusting over his prostate, to be followed by that wonderful full feeling as Justin drove his penis fully home, his tummy pressed tight against Patrick’s bottom.
After the briefest of pauses, Justin’s instincts took over, first pulling well back then thrusting right in again. He was consumed by lust, fucking the boy like only a good athlete could, spurred on by Patrick’s exquisite beauty, spurred on too by the boy’s quiet moans and whimpers.
“Play with my cock!” Patrick pleaded.
Justin responded eagerly, running his fingers over Patrick’s hard little prong. It was all it took. Patrick bucked wildly, moaning out loud as his boyhood came to life in Justin’s hand. Justin’s orgasm followed within seconds, the muscle spasms surging through him. His penis jerked violently, volleys of semen flooding into Patrick’s bottom in the longest, most powerful ejaculation of his young life.
He bent forward, his heart pounding against Patrick’s spine. He felt dizzy, physically drained but on the biggest emotional high he had ever known. Nothing could have prepared him for the intensity of being so intimately connected to another boy, or the truly mind-blowing sensation of pumping his semen into the lad’s rectum. Patrick was so perfect; with him by his side he could move mountains. His breathing slowly returned to normal. He carefully withdrew. Patrick turned to face him.
“Are you okay?” Justin asked gently.
“Yeah!” Patrick responded, his blue eyes sparkling. “That was fantastic!”
He threw his arms around Justin’s neck, pulling his older friend into a sensuous, passionate kiss.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Half term had come and gone. Since he’d met Justin, Patrick’s life had seemed almost ideal. It was strange, he reflected; Brian and Justin were so different and yet he loved them both. While Brian had been sensitive and vulnerable, a vulnerability he liked to hide beneath an overly brash exterior, Justin was easy going, seeming to take life in his stride. He smiled almost all the time; he laughed a great deal too, always seeing the humour in any situation. And, of course, he made Patrick laugh. A natural raconteur, his humorous accounts of things that happened around the school kept Patrick endlessly amused. Simply being with him was fun; having sex was the icing on the cake.
The problem with Mr. Burman had resolved itself too, though in a most surprising way; the music master had taken up with Peter Cranham, one of Patrick’s contemporaries. This was odd for the reason that Peter wasn’t a musician; he didn’t play an instrument and couldn’t sing a note. How they had hooked up together Patrick couldn’t imagine, but Peter was now busily engaged in starting a music appreciation society and seemed to have appointed himself as Mr. Burman’s personal assistant. Patrick wasn’t in the least sorry about it. Although Mr. Burman taught him as well as he ever had, he’d ceased fussing over him. Things had returned to the way they were when Leo was at the school. Of course, Peter now got the invitations to the concerts that Patrick would have dearly loved to attend, but he considered this a small price to pay.
And to complete the picture, Deon had acquired an older friend, Teddy Larsen, who had joined the school a few weeks earlier in Upper Fourth. Blond, somewhat skinny and generally considered an odd-ball, Teddy was even more obsessed with science and computers than Deon. The two had become pretty well inseparable; when they weren’t having sex they would spend hours discussing the most obscure topics. Patrick couldn’t make head nor tail of any of it.
Patrick headed down to the sports pavilion for their Sunday morning training run. Despite his misgivings earlier in the term, his running was going surprisingly well. Before half term they had taken part in a trophy race involving schools from all over South East England. With Craig winning the race, Martin fourth, Jamie fourteenth, himself seventeenth, and John Mitchell and Mark Anderson both making the top fifty, they had finished third out of nearly twenty schools, a more than respectable performance.
Then just the previous day they had run in the annual Ashdown Relays, a type of race that they’d never experienced before. With Patrick running first, followed by Martin, Jamie and Craig, they had secured second place, with Craig putting in a characteristic sprint finish to snatch the silver medals in the last fifty yards. Considering their lack of experience, their second team had performed well too, narrowly missing out on the ‘B’ team prize. But for Patrick, the best part of all was that his dad had been there to support them. That had made the day very special indeed.
Throughout their training run the spirit was extremely high. On such a pleasant November morning, running confidently through the woods and the fields was a joy; it didn’t seem like work at all. After running for twenty five minutes they returned to the pavilion and headed for the showers. Feeling refreshed, Patrick wandered back into the changing room and began to get dressed.
“I’m going to Mr. Thompson’s flat afterwards,” Martin said quietly. “They’re showing yesterday’s international cross-country races on the telly; we’re going to watch them. You can come with me if you want.”
“Thanks,” Patrick responded.
He didn’t give the matter much thought; on Sundays he always had plenty of time, and this seemed as good a way of filling an hour as any. Mr. Thompson occupied a flat in the gatehouse at the bottom of the drive. He’d been aware that Martin went round there sometimes but hadn’t thought much about that either. It was like Mr. Thompson had told him; Martin wasn’t an outstanding student and running seemed to be his only interest, his one chance to shine. He was something of a loner too, so it really wasn’t surprising that he spent time with the cross-country master. They strolled the short distance to the gatehouse, climbed the stairs and rang the bell.
“Hi lads,” Mr. Thompson said, smiling warmly. “Come in; the races will be on in five minutes.”
He fixed them both a drink of orange squash. The three of them settled themselves on the sofa, Martin in the middle with Patrick and Mr. Thompson on either side. The women’s race was shown first. Patrick sat watching intently, with Mr. Thompson contributing a few words to explain who the leading runners were. The race reached its climax, victory going to a Kenyan athlete, with British runners in second and third.
As the remaining runners trailed home, Patrick became aware that Martin was feeling his right leg. He was about the push the hand away, concerned that Mr. Thompson might see what was happening, but before he could do so, Martin moved his hand directly onto his crotch. Instinctively, Patrick glanced to his right. He was horrified. Martin’s shorts and underpants were around his knees, he was fully erect and Mr. Thompson was stroking his thighs. Mr. Thompson, though still fully dressed, was sporting a large erection which made a very obvious bulge in the tennis shorts he was wearing.
He couldn’t take it in. He’d known that Martin liked sex from seeing him with Ashton a few months earlier, but he’d no idea that this was why he visited Mr. Thompson’s flat so frequently. It had never occurred to him that Mr. Thompson might have the same sort of interests that Mr. Burman did; it just didn’t seem possible. And what were they going to do? He panicked.
“Stop it!” he snapped, his voice almost choking.
“Martin, pull your shorts up,” Mr. Thompson said, his voice exuding an air of quiet authority.
Martin complied without uttering a word. Moments later they were watching the start of the men’s race as though nothing had happened.
As soon as the race was over, Patrick made his excuses and left, leaving Martin behind. There had been no explanation, no apology, not a word. He was distraught. Why hadn’t Martin warned him, he wondered? It was the sheer unexpectedness of it that had distressed him, but had he over-reacted? Mr. Thompson was the best teacher he had ever had; he of all people would surely not have turned into a sex-crazed monster, and after all nothing had actually happened, so why had he acted like a big baby?
It was all very upsetting. He couldn’t tell his dorm mates; Lee just couldn’t be trusted not to repeat it. That left Justin, and he wouldn’t be seeing him until the late afternoon. Until then he would just have to bottle it up and get on with his day as best he could.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
As soon as Patrick arrived in the attic, Justin knew something was wrong. He sat with his arm around Patrick’s shoulder as his young friend recounted the events that occurred at Mr. Thompson’s flat. For once Justin wasn’t smiling.
“And Martin never said anything to you about what was going to happen?” he asked gently.
“No, nothing,” Patrick confirmed.
“He’s an imbecile,” Justin said. “And I don’t imagine Mr. Thompson was too pleased. I’d no idea he and Martin were having sex; I don’t think anyone did.”
“You don’t think I’m being a baby, do you?” Patrick asked.
“No, I don’t,” Justin replied firmly. “They’re lucky you didn’t freak out completely, go and tell Mr. Halford or something. I know Mr. Halford’s not here on a Sunday but you know what I mean.” He paused for a second. “You don’t want to get Mr. Thompson in trouble, do you?”
“No,” Patrick said, shaking his head. “Mr. Thompson’s great. And he stopped it as soon as I said.”
Justin took a deep breath. “I’m going to have to tell Toby,” he said. “He’ll know what to do. Is that okay?”
Patrick nodded. “So what’s going to happen?”
“Not sure exactly,” Justin said. “But the main thing is you’re not in any trouble, and as long as we can keep it quiet, Mr Thompson won’t be either. Rob will have to sort Martin out; he’s in charge. The main thing is to make sure he doesn’t do anything like that again. Is that all right?”
“Thanks,” Patrick said, giving Justin a weak smile.
Justin gave his younger friend a delicate, soothing kiss. Patrick relaxed immediately; thanks to Justin he felt so much better. It was going to be okay.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
The four boys assembled in the practice room for their first rehearsal. It had been a little over two weeks since Paul had given Patrick the album featuring the solo he wished to sing at the Christmas concert, Carole King’s ‘You Got a Friend’. A good, though not outstanding student, Paul Barnes was the school’s best chorister. He had a beautiful, as yet unbroken singing voice, clear and strong. He had asked Mr. Burman if he could perform the song at the forthcoming concert. Mr. Burman had given his permission, but left Paul to organise his own rehearsals, promising to include the song in the concert programme if, and only if, the performance was good enough.
Patrick fell in love with the song the very first time he heard it, the haunting, soulful melody, the wonderfully evocative lyrics and beautiful piano accompaniment. He could have asked for Mr. Burman’s assistance in transcribing the piano part, but it was a measure of the progress he’d made that he didn’t need to. Harmonically, it was more straightforward than ‘Round Midnight’ so beginning with the basic chord structure then adding the various embellishments, he had gradually pieced it together, sketching it down on manuscript paper. The task completed, he’d practised it until he could play it perfectly.
And now they were ready. Paul would sing the verses solo, joined for the chorus by fellow choristers Mark Anderson and Dominic Lees. Patrick played through the introduction and Paul began to sing. He was singing the words and the tune, Patrick noted, but the timing was all wrong, making his performance sound wooden and lifeless. They came to the chorus. Mark and Dominic were nervous and hesitant; they weren’t used to singing without a conductor and their part written out in front of them.
Patrick quickly realised that although it was Paul’s solo, he was the one who would have to take charge. He was the musician, and after all the work he’d put in, he knew the song better than any of them. He’d seen Mr. Burman in operation too, so he knew what to do. Over the next half an hour, they took the song to pieces, working on it line by line. At first, Paul was reluctant to do as Patrick asked.
“If I sing it like that,” he protested, “”I’ll have to breathe in the middle of the phrase.”
Patrick was not to be swayed. “This isn’t classical music,” he countered. “Breathe where you need to.”
Paul shrugged and complied. Finally they set to work to the chorus. On the verses, where Paul was singing solo, there was some room for flexibility in the timing. Here there was none; all three boys had to sing it exactly the same way. It took several attempts before they mastered it. Finally, Patrick was happy; all they had to do now was remember it.
“Okay,” he said, “let’s take it from the top.”
As they began, Justin slipped into the practice room, something he often did, sitting inconspicuously in the corner furthest from the piano. This was not merely a gesture of support for Patrick; it was useful for him too. For all that he seemed to take things in his stride, he was under considerable pressure. He had set his heart on going to Sherborne School, not too far from where they lived, but the fees were very high. His father’s position as a senior Anglican cleric meant that they lived very comfortably but were certainly not rich. Unless he won a scholarship it was doubtful if his parents would be able to send him there. He was working extremely hard to make sure that he didn’t miss out.
It didn’t much matter what Patrick was playing; sitting here like this, quite often with his eyes closed, just losing himself in the music, had proved to be the perfect way for him to relax. But this evening was something special; he was spellbound. The boys came to the final chorus.
Just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I’ll come running
To see you again
Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you have to do is call
And I’ll be there, yes I will
You got a friend.
As they finished, Justin wiped away a tear, reckoning that it was probably the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. But it wasn’t just the singing; it was the words. That was exactly how he felt about Patrick.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
They practised the song several more times, but finally the day of judgement was upon them. The concert was two weeks away and the programme had to be finalised. Mr. Burman bustled into the practice room and sat down.
“Right, gentlemen,” he said in his usual authoritative manner. “Let’s hear what you have for me.”
The boys settled themselves. Patrick played confidently through the introduction and they were away. Mr. Burman was most impressed. Usually when the boys were left to their own devices, their performance fell well short of what he was looking for, but this was exceptional; they had passed the test with flying colours. As the performance ended he stood up and walked over to them
“Well done!” he said, smiling warmly. “That was excellent. I’ll be very happy to include that in the concert; I’d like you to close the first half.”
“It’s Patrick you should be congratulating,” Paul said modestly. “He knocked us into shape; we couldn’t have done it without him. I didn’t even realise I wasn’t singing it right.”
“He drilled us with a pitchfork, sir,” Mark added. “He was even tougher than you are!”
“Hmmm,” Mr. Burman said, nodding sagely, a note of mock seriousness in his voice. “So that’s who’s been teaching you to breathe in the middle of phrases.”
“Patrick said this wasn’t classical music,” Paul explained.
“And he was quite right, wasn’t he?” the man responded, his eyes twinkling.
Inwardly, Mr. Burman was glowing. He might have declined to become ‘his boy’ in the way that Leo had been, but Patrick was still very much his protégé. He had invested a great deal of time and effort in the boy’s musical education and the lad was doing him proud.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
The Christmas concert was a triumph and Paul Barnes was its star performer. By tradition, while the summer concert was a showcase for the school’s instrumental music, the Christmas concert was largely vocal, concluding with a selection of Christmas carols. So Patrick played one piano solo, an Arabesque by Debussy; the rest of his evening was taken up with his duties as accompanist. But it was his role in ‘You got a Friend’ that gave him the greatest satisfaction. Not only had he worked out his piano part completely unaided, he’d honed the boys’ performance from very rough beginnings up to the level that Mr. Burman demanded.
Over the next term Patrick’s career at Hartswood continued on its course. Academically, he remained one of the stars, vying with Deon for top spot in almost every subject, he would certainly be put forward for a scholarship when the time came. He passed Grade 7 piano with distinction and would attempt grade 8 in the autumn. And he continued to run well, not a star performer, but a very useful member of the team, his collection of team medals having grown to four, including bronze at the annual prep schools championships where he had produced his best ever performance.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
It was the Easter holiday. Justin had spent three wonderful days at Patrick’s house, including the younger boy’s twelfth birthday, but Justin had returned home and his dad was back at work, leaving Patrick at something of a loose end. He was puzzled; he’d expected Gary to call, but he hadn’t. He picked up the phone and dialled. The call was picked up promptly; he was pleased to hear Gary’s voice at the other end.
“Hi Gary!” he said brightly. “It’s Patrick. How are you doing?”
“Yeah, pretty good!”
“Fancy coming round?” Patrick enquired.
“Sorry, Patrick,” Gary said, clearly squirming. Er, look, the thing is I’ve met this boy, goes to my school. He’s just thirteen, name’s Stephen, really sexy. He has the house to himself all day. Er, well . .”
“I think you like him a lot,” Patrick said, helping him out.
“Yeah,” Gary agreed. “Yeah, I do.”
“Well, look after him,” Patrick said, smiling. “You could both come round one day if you want. Just give us a call if you fancy it.”
“I’d love to,” Gary said, sounding very uneasy again, “but Stephen’s very shy, you know. I’ll have to see.”
After a few closing pleasantries the conversation was over. Patrick flopped down on the sofa. They wouldn’t come; he could tell. It was disappointing, but he wasn’t going to get worked up about it; Gary was only doing what he’d have done. So that was it, there’d be no more sex till he got back to school.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
The holidays over, Patrick threw himself back into his life at Hartswood. He was busier than ever. Even though the cross-country team didn’t race in the summer they continued to train; he had end of year examinations to negotiate and the summer concert to prepare for. But the best part of all was that he had Justin. They had grown very close over their time together. Justin always made him feel special in a way that not even Brian had managed.
He followed his older friend up to the attic. They were going to have sex, but that was no longer an end in itself; it was a way of expressing their feelings for each other, taking the experience to a far higher level. Today would be even more special than usual. Justin had received the letter he’d been waiting for. All his hard work had been rewarded; he’d won a scholarship to Sherborne. So this was an occasion for joy and congratulations. It was though tinged with sadness, the arrival of the letter reminding them both that in just a few short weeks Justin would move on exactly as Brian had done.
He flopped down next to Justin, who was already seated on the attic floor, and smiled up at him. They kissed passionately. Before meeting Patrick, Justin had never considered kissing a boy, but Patrick was so affectionate and the sensations so exquisite that it had become an essential part of their sexual foreplay. Though Justin was totally uncertain of his longer-term sexual preferences, as far as Patrick was concerned, he was hopelessly and completely in love; in his eyes no younger friend could have been more perfect.
Slowly and sensuously they undressed each other until, apart from their socks, they were both completely and gloriously naked, Justin’s penis, now at least half an inch longer and somewhat thicker than it had been at their first meeting, the pubic hair now filled out into a small but respectable crop. More kissing followed, the two of them stretched out on the attic floor. Their lips parted. Patrick grinned mischievously before twisting himself right round, sucking eagerly on his older friend’s boyhood. Justin pulled him in close, completing the inevitable sixty-nine. As he sucked, he squeezed KY onto his fingers. Slipping his hand between Patrick’s legs, he inserted first one, then two fingers into his young friend’s bottom. They were both close to orgasm; it was time.
They moved apart, Justin resuming his previous position, sitting in a slightly slumped position, knees a little apart, his shoulders resting on the attic wall. Patrick crouched over him, his back to the older boy, slowly lowering himself onto Justin’s penis, pushing further and further down until he was fully impaled. He melted into his friend’s arms, pulling his knees up so that his feet rested flat on the floor. Justin sighed contentedly. They had discovered it almost by accident a few weeks earlier, but this had become his favourite position, burying his nose in Patrick’s hair, licking the boy’s ears, tweaking his nipples, fondling his genitals while all the time thrusting his penis into the lad’s bottom. It was Patrick’s favourite too; he loved the closeness of it, Justin’s arms gently holding him, the boy’s masculine aroma filling his nostrils.
As usual, Patrick’s orgasm was first to strike. He shuddered from head to toe, but there was something different, the tingling in his penis far more intense than it had ever been. Totally without warning, three watery jets spurted forth, arcing through the air before landing as pearlescent drops on his tummy.
“Oh, man!” Justin gasped. “Oh yeah! You’ve done it!”
He was totally enraptured, increasing the pace of his thrusts without even thinking about it. His own orgasm followed within seconds, copious amounts of thick, creamy fluid filling Patrick’s bottom. For fully two minutes they remained where they were, both completely at peace and deliriously happy. It had been perfect. Finally Patrick eased himself off Justin’s softening penis. He turned to face him.
“I love you!” he whispered, before engaging his friend in another wonderful, passionate kiss.