I’m disclaiming again, okay? You know what it means by now.
I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that Snapshot 9 proved to be too long, so it has been split into a two-parter, which means that there will be a total of twelve Snapshots rather than eleven. The bad news is that I’m getting behind with the writing. I was aiming to have everything written and posted before going on vacation in early July, but that is looking increasingly unlikely. Sorry, but I’ll have to ask for your patience on that one.
And finally, thanks to everyone who’s written to me over the last few weeks; the feedback has been most encouraging. We’ve now reached the final part of ‘Patrick & Friends’, so more feedback would be especially welcome. Please send your comments to firstname.lastname@example.org and I’ll reply as soon as I can.
HARTSWOOD PRIORY – SNAPSHOT SEVEN
PATRICK & FRIENDS PART SIX
The summer holidays arrived all too soon. Justin and Patrick said their goodbyes in the only way they knew how, repeating their previous exploits up in the attic. And that was that. Patrick was collected by Grandad Munro and taken to High Wycombe, where he spent his time pottering around trying to keep himself busy. Then he was off to Italy with his dad for another two weeks of sheer joy, the bond between father and son growing stronger by the day.
Alone in his bed, Tom Naylor couldn’t stop himself speculating what it might be like to have Patrick snuggled up next to him. The lad was as beautiful a specimen of boyhood as you could ever see, his mother’s beauty shining from every pore. It was hardly surprising that older boys were attracted to him; men too, he’d noticed some of the looks Patrick got when they were on the beach, especially when the boy was dressed only in his skimpy red Speedo. He longed to have his son there with him, to hug and caress him, to tell him how much he loved him. He concluded sadly that it wouldn’t be a good idea. He couldn’t be sure how Patrick would react; things might get out of hand and that would ruin everything.
Finally they were back at home, and despite his best efforts, Patrick once again found himself with time on his hands. He considered revisiting the toilets by the shopping centre but rejected the idea; that sort of casual sex just wasn’t what he wanted. Until he returned to school, solitary masturbation would have to suffice.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Finally, Patrick was back at Hartswood, and feeling Justin’s loss even more keenly than he had Brian’s. This time there was no prospect of a solution; he was in Upper Fourth, the oldest boys in the school. There were no older friends to be had, and sex with a younger boy simply didn’t interest him. Of his friends in Priestley dorm, Lee, who had grown considerably over the past few months, had made the transition from ‘younger friend’ to ‘older friend’ without so much as batting an eyelid, having hooked himself up with a very cute third year boy, while Simon seemed to be in very much the same position that Patrick was.
That left Deon. Deon would have loved to find a younger friend, but being small and with only average looks his chances of finding one were poor. But sex with Patrick and Simon was an acceptable substitute, so that’s how it was, with Deon dividing his time between the two of them.
It fell a long way short of what Patrick wanted. In class Deon was his closest rival and a boy that in some ways he greatly admired, but over the past year they’d grown apart. Deon’s passion for science had turned into a full-blown obsession; it seemed he could no longer talk about anything else. Worse still, his performance had become mechanical. He wouldn’t kiss or give any other show of affection, which Patrick found intensely irritating. It was as though the Deon he’d met when he first arrived at the school no longer existed. So three times a week he would lie there to be routinely fucked, which was pleasurable enough, but a million miles from the intensity of the love-making that he and Justin had enjoyed. It was all very unsatisfactory, but there was nothing he could do.
Patrick’s participation in the cross-country team also proved a disappointment. On his return to school he had assumed the he and Jamie would continue to vie for the top position. It was not to be. Jamie, though nearly a year younger, was precociously developed, his voice already starting to break and a few dark hairs making an appearance above his penis. Patrick couldn’t get anywhere near him. Worse still, he had also been overtaken by John Mitchell, whom he had previously beaten quite comfortably in every single race. It was a bitter pill to swallow. After training he went to see Mr. Thompson.
“Sir,” he said, “I don’t think I’m running very well. I expected to have trouble keeping up with Jamie; he’s always been good, but now I’ve got John in front of me as well, and I’ve always beaten him quite easily before. What’s going wrong sir?”
“Absolutely nothing as far as I can see,” Mr. Thompson said gently. “You’re running as well as I expected you to. Jamie you know about; John is just Martin all over again. He’s pretty average in class as I’m sure you know, and didn’t show much promise as a runner to begin with, but fair play to the lad, he stuck at it. Suddenly he started to get stronger; you can see how much bigger he’s got. So the training began to work, he got the bit between his teeth and now there’s no stopping him. I’m actually having to limit the amount of running he does so he doesn’t get injured. You can’t train like they do; you’ve got too much else on. What is it, grade 8 piano in November, a big commitment at the Christmas concert after that and Public Schools’ Scholarship exams next term, right?”
“Sir,” Patrick acknowledged.
“You can’t be a star at everything!” Mr. Thompson continued, smiling warmly. “But you’re still a very valuable member of the team. And what makes you especially valuable is your temperament, the bigger the occasion the better you run, you proved that last season. Every team needs runners that can do that.” He paused for a couple of seconds, allowing time for his words to sink in. “You’re not thinking of giving up, are you?” he asked finally.
“No sir,” Patrick said, feeling rather embarrassed at having made such a fuss.
“Great!” Mr. Thompson said, still smiling. “Just keep training like you are doing, and get stuck into the races like you always have. I’ll be more than happy with that.”
“Thanks sir,” Patrick said.
He strolled back to Priestley dorm feeling suitably chastened. He was being stupid, wanting to be the star at everything he did; nobody could do that. He should have been pleased that Jamie and John were running so well; with himself and a few of the other boys to back them up, the team would have another good season.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
It was late September, Patrick made his way along to his weekly piano lesson. His grade 8 examination was just a few weeks away. Mr. Burman was in an especially good mood and the lesson went to perfection; everything was on course. Finally the lesson concluded.
“Patrick,” Mr. Burman said quietly. “I have something to ask you. In just over two weeks time Keith Jarrett is giving a concert at the Queen Elizabeth Hall. I have managed to acquire three tickets. Knowing how much you admire his playing, I wondered if you might like to go. Let me say that the man is a classically trained virtuoso and I’m greatly looking forward to seeing him myself. And let me reassure you, Peter will be there as well, so as far as you’re concerned absolutely nothing will happen.”
Patrick hesitated for the briefest of moments. The opportunity to see his hero playing live was simply too good to miss, and in any case, he no longer cared that much what his friends thought, or even what they said.
“Thanks, sir!” he replied, smiling. “I’d love to go.”
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Mr. Burman arrived at his London flat in the company of two smiling, happy boys. Once inside, he showed the lads to the guest room, then when they’d settled in, he and Peter disappeared into the master bedroom, leaving Patrick in the lounge room watching the television. After some minutes Patrick headed to the bathroom. He passed Mr. Burman’s room. By the sounds they were making it appeared that Peter and Mr. Burman were having a very good time indeed. There was a passion and intensity there that reminded him of the times that he and Justin had spent together. He became fully erect just thinking about it.
The concert was nothing short of stupendous. Jarrett’s incredible technique, his wonderful sense of rhythm and the lyricism of his improvisations were all simply breathtaking. Patrick left the hall feeling as though he was walking on air. They returned by taxi to Mr. Burman’s flat. Patrick went to the guest room and immediately began to prepare for bed. He was surprised to find Peter joining him, but it was of little concern. Maybe Peter and Mr. Burman didn’t actually sleep together, he reasoned. Ablutions performed, he got into bed. A couple of minutes later he was even more surprised to find Peter sliding in next to him.
“I thought you’d be sleeping with Mr. Burman,” he said.
“Oh, I will be later,” Peter replied casually. “I just thought you might like a bit of company. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, of course not,” Patrick said, grinning. “If I was back at school I’d probably be in bed with Deon.”
“And I’d probably be in bed with Alex,” Peter said brightly. “Bloody good concert, wasn’t it?”
“Fantastic,” Patrick readily agreed. “I knew he was good from listening to the records, but he’s so much better live.”
They snuggled up close, carefully removing each other’s underpants. Moments later they were kissing passionately. Patrick reached down. Peter had turned thirteen a couple of weeks earlier, his medium-thick four and a half inch penis adorned by a little crop of dark pubic hair. Patrick fondled it eagerly. He wanted it; he wanted it all. Peter returned the favour; the touch of his fingers making Patrick tingle all over.
“Nice!” Peter whispered. “Can you cum?”
“Yeah,” Patrick confirmed. “You do this much better than Deon does.”
“Really?” Peter asked. “So what does he do then?”
“We just mess about for a bit then he bums me,” Patrick said. “He won’t kiss or anything.”
“That’s not much good,” Peter said dismissively. “I can’t say I’m surprised; he’s weird. Nice dick though. I’m lucky; Alex is okay, but it is strange in a way. You know Alex is going with Ian, the kid in Lower Fourth that Toby used to go with, well Alex is bumming him now. And I’m with Mr. Burman, and he’s bumming me. So what d’you think we get up to when we’re in bed together?”
“Dunno,” Patrick said, smiling. “You’ll have to tell me.”
“He always wants me to bum him,” Peter declared, “the exact opposite of what you’d probably think. I love it; it means I get the best of both worlds.”
“Cool!” Patrick breathed, somewhat taken aback by Peter’s openness.
They kissed again then Peter snaked around, taking them into a wonderfully stimulating sixty nine. Patrick was in ecstasy, moaning almost inaudibly as he sucked on Peter’s boyhood; reflecting that he hadn’t had sex as good as this since Justin’s departure. They moved apart.
“Get on all fours,” Peter whispered.
Patrick readily complied. Peter moved around behind, bending low, swiping his tongue over Patrick’s anus. Patrick gasped with delight, overwhelmed by this new and pleasurable sensation. Peter swiped again then darted his tongue right onto Patrick’s rosebud. Patrick gurgled, his pleasure sensors on overload. Peter continued eagerly, his tongue swiping and probing. Finally he pushed as hard as he could, his lips locked to Patrick’s bottom, his thrusting tongue forcing its way right inside. Patrick was almost delirious, the pleasure beyond his wildest imaginings.
After a few seconds, Peter carefully withdrew, his tongue quickly replaced by a well-lubed finger pushed into Patrick’s warm, tight tunnel. He worked it in and out then inserted a second finger, gently twisting the two fingers around to loosen the ring of muscle. There was no more to be done. He allowed his fingers to be slowly expelled.
“Come on man! Bum me!” Patrick moaned. “Do it man!”
“Lie on your tummy,” Peter whispered. “Put the pillow under your hips.”
While Patrick got into position, Peter smeared lubricant over his penis. He looked down at the inviting sight that confronted him.
“You’ve got a beautiful bum!” he commented.
He gently lowered himself, guiding his boyhood onto Patrick’s waiting entrance. With one hard thrust he penetrated him. Patrick emitted a sigh of satisfaction; being lovingly and eagerly fucked was for him the best feeling possible.
Peter settled himself onto Patrick’s back, his nose buried in the boy’s thick blond hair.
“Is that good?” he breathed.
“Yeah!” Patrick readily confirmed.
“So what d’you want now?”
Peter set to work, fucking the boy with long, powerful thrusts. He held Patrick’s upper arms, nuzzled his neck, licked his ears, all the things that Deon never did. Patrick was almost delirious with pleasure, moaning incoherently; he’d almost forgotten how good this could be, the passion and intensity of Peter’s lovemaking everything he could have wanted. He tried to remain relaxed, but Peter’s thrusts were making him rub against the pillow. The result was inevitable. He shuddered uncontrollably; little jets of fluid squirted onto the pillow leaving his tummy wet and sticky.
“You’ve cum!” Peter declared in obvious excitement. “You’ve spunked on the pillow! Oh yes! Yes! Yes! Ohhhhhhh!!!”
His penis swelled and pulsed, several wads of warm, gooey semen spurting into Patrick’s bottom. He lay perfectly still for around half a minute then carefully withdrew. He gave Patrick an affectionate peck on the cheek.
“Bye,” he whispered. “Sleep well; I’ll see you in the morning.”
A moment later he was gone.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Peter headed for the master bedroom glowing with satisfaction. His first time with Patrick had gone far better than he’d dared to hope. They’d never been friends; Patrick had always seemed wary of him, but tonight had been nothing short of sensational. Patrick was so affectionate, so tactile, responding so positively to every stimulus that he’d been given, his reaction to having a tongue up his bottom quite electrifying. Sex with Alex was always good, but it didn’t come close to this latest experience. Before long, he and Patrick would do that again. He slipped into bed alongside his mentor.
“So how was that?” Mr. Burman enquired. “Did you have a nice time?”
“Very nice, thank you,” Peter responded. “Patrick’s so affectionate and . . .”
“And you like affection, don’t you Peter?” Mr. Burman interrupted, wrapping his arm around the boy’s shoulder, his tongue prodding at Peter’s ear.”
“Oh yes, sir!” Peter agreed eagerly.
“Sorry,” Mr. Burman said, “I interrupted you. You said Patrick is so affectionate and . . .”
“And he’s got a beautiful bum, sir!” Peter breathed. “Well actually, he’s pretty beautiful all over.”
“He is, isn’t he?” Mr. Burman cooed. “And did you put your penis into his beautiful little bottom?”
“And?” Mr. Burman enquired.
“He loved it!” Peter responded with obvious enthusiasm. “He couldn’t get enough of it; he spunked while I was bumming him!”
“You’re a very lucky boy, aren’t you Peter?” Mr. Burman teased.
“Yes sir,” Peter readily agreed.
“So what d’you want now?” the man enquired.
“I want your cock up my bum, sir!” Peter informed him.
“And that you shall have,” Mr. Burman whispered.
Peter lay on his left side while Mr. Burman, lying spooned up behind him, expertly conducted the necessary preparations. Finally the man’s fingers slowly withdrew. Peter cocked up his right leg. A moment later the head of the man’s thick seven-inch penis was pressed against his sphincter. With one thrust Mr. Burman penetrated him. Peter gasped; despite nearly a year as Mr. Burman’s boy, taking so large a penis was still a momentary shock.
He relaxed almost immediately, Mr. Burman pushing deeper and deeper until the lad was completely impaled. This would be extra special, he reflected; with Peter having ejaculated only a few minutes earlier there was no possibility of over-stimulating the boy; he could fuck him as hard and as long as he liked, and so he did, remorselessly thrusting his penis deep into Peter’s rectum. On it went, Peter moaning deliriously, lost in a heady mixture of pain and pleasure, five minutes turning into ten and ten into twelve.
It was time to end it. Mr. Burman increased his thrusting, fucking the boy harder and faster. In less than a minute his shuddering climax overtook him, volley after volley of thick, creamy semen flooding into Peter’s bottom, the perfect end to a quite extraordinary day. He nuzzled Peter’s neck.
“Goodnight, dear boy,” he whispered.
Within seconds, both he and Peter were sound asleep, the man’s penis still embedded in the boy’s bottom.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
The following morning Patrick slept in later than usual. By the time he emerged from the guest room Peter and Mr. Burman were already fully dressed, Peter sitting on the sofa reading the paper while Mr. Burman bustled about.
“Come on, sleepy head!” Mr Burman admonished. “I need to get you boys back to school.”
They sat down to breakfast.
“What will you tell your friends when you get back?” Mr. Burman enquired. “They will ask, you know.”
“I’ll tell them that absolutely nothing happened between you and me.” Patrick said confidently. “I will also tell them that Peter and I slept in the guest room, me in one bed, Peter in the other and that I wouldn’t know if anything happened after I went to sleep, and I wouldn’t tell them if I did.”
“Excellent,” Mr. Burman said approvingly. “He should join your father in the diplomatic service, shouldn’t he Peter?”
“The diplomatic service is a ready-made home for accomplished liars,” Mr. Burman added, by way of explanation.
When they got back to school, Patrick went straight to his dorm. He was not surprised to find Lee and Simon waiting for him.
“Tell us what happened then,” Lee said eagerly.
“What d’you mean, what happened?” Patrick asked.
“You know, Burman,” Lee said. “Did he try to have sex with you?”
“Definitely not,” Patrick said calmly.
“But he must have been having sex with Peter,” Lee insisted. “Come on, tell us man!”
Patrick took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what happened,” he said calmly. “Peter and I were sleeping in the guest room. There are twin beds in there; Peter was in one, I was in the other. It was late when we got back from the concert. We were both tired; we went straight to bed. I went out like a light. If anything happened while I was asleep I wouldn’t know about it, and to be honest, I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”
“So Peter was still in the other bed when you woke up in the morning?” Lee queried.
“No,” Patrick responded calmly. “I didn’t wake up till quarter to eight. Peter was already up and dressed by that time.”
Over the next fifteen minutes Lee and Simon prodded and poked, but Patrick was not to me moved, stonewalling perfectly. Eventually they gave up. It was a small victory, Patrick noted, but in time it could prove an important one.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
In the weeks that followed, Peter and Patrick got to know each other a great deal better. They both spent a considerable amount of time in the music area, but previously they had scarcely acknowledged each other. Now the ice had been broken, they began to talk, and soon became friends. Peter, without even a hint of embarrassment, told Patrick exactly how and why he had become Mr. Burman’s boy. The ‘how’, involving the scheming Toby Redman, was a quite remarkable story, but Patrick knew it was true; Toby did have a key to the trunk store, just as Peter had said. The ‘why’ was simply sad; Peter was an accident, an unwanted child. Patrick had never been unwanted; he couldn’t even imagine what it must feel like. In that respect Peter was in much the same position that Leo had been; his parents didn’t care either.
Patrick was very grateful that he hadn’t had to go through that. His dad was his most dedicated supporter; whenever he was performing in something important, concert or cross-country race, his dad made every effort to be there. He was also grateful for Peter’s honesty; it all made sense now. And even though Peter wasn’t a musician, he was a keen supporter and took an active interest Patrick’s progress in much the same way that Justin had done, Their friendship was sealed when Peter acquired a key to the music store room, which allowed them the privacy to engage in some of the intimate activities they had enjoyed at Mr. Burman’s flat.
Shortly after half term Patrick attended two more concerts with Peter and Mr. Burman, the pattern of events that had taken place on the occasion of the Keith Jarrett concert being repeated each time. After the first of these, he was questioned again when he returned to school, though less vigorously than after his initial outing. He stonewalled again. Lee and Simon gave up after barely five minutes. After the second one they didn’t even bother. The stage, Patrick decided, was now set.
Since his first visit to the London flat, his feelings towards Mr. Burman had changed quite considerably. While he wouldn’t have dreamed of usurping Peter’s position, he had developed a fascination with the idea of having sex with the man, even if only occasionally. He even had a recurring fantasy of having sex with both Peter and Mr. Burman. He felt certain that Mr. Burman still wanted to have sex with him, and for him to do so would be a small show of appreciation for the help the man had given him. So as long as Peter was in agreement, the next London concert would provide the perfect opportunity.
The benefit of the present situation was that he wouldn’t be letting his dad down, because his dad would never, ever know. None of the people actually present would ever breathe a word of it; it simply wasn’t in there interests to do so, and his stonewalling tactics following the earlier concerts had shunted the school’s potential rumour-mongers neatly into a siding; they no longer even questioned him.
He found Peter down in the music area, preparing material for the next music appreciation society meeting. Very nervously he sketched out his idea. Peter agreed without hesitation; having sex with Patrick and Mr. Burman at the same time was simply too good an opportunity to miss. And it would be their secret, the three of them, and they’d all make sure it stayed that way. They weren’t going to warn Mr. Burman in advance though; that, they determined, would spoil the fun. This was to be Mr. Burman’s Christmas Surprise.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
It was early December when the trio set off to London for the final concert of the term, a performance of Handel’s Messiah at the Royal Albert Hall. Initially, there was no hint that anything would be any different from their previous visits, and Mr. Burman was not going to do anything to change things. He was already very happy. The blossoming friendship between his two charges was quite unexpected, and had brought considerable benefits to both of them.
Early in the term, Patrick had seemed lost, clearly missing the love and affection that the delightful Justin Armstrong had given him. Justin, he reflected, though no musician, was one of the nicest, most generous spirited boys you could ever meet, a boy you simply couldn’t help but like; he didn’t have an unpleasant bone in his entire body. Rugby player, cricketer and an outstanding student, he was a credit to the school, his parents and himself; he’d been perfect for Patrick. But now Patrick had Peter, and all was well again. Peter, meanwhile, had a new spring in his step, a greater purpose in life, applying himself to his studies even more conscientiously. It could hardly have worked out better, musician and music lover in perfect unison.
They arrived at the flat. Everything proceeded as usual. They attended the concert, going on to a nearby restaurant for dinner. The two boys gave no hint that anything out of the ordinary was going to happen. They returned to the flat. Mr. Burman bustled into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Returning to the lounge room, he was surprised to find the two boys ensconced on the sofa, kissing passionately. It was a delightful sight; he couldn’t take his eyes off them. Of course, he told himself, that was undoubtedly as much as he’d get to see; even so, it was an image that would remain with him for a very long time.
The boys’ lips parted. Peter turned and smiled at him then both boys got up, walking arm in arm towards the door.
“Come on, sir!” Peter said, gesturing for the man to follow them.
Mr. Burman obeyed, following behind as though on an invisible piece of string. But they didn’t go into the guest room; they went into the master bedroom, his room! He followed them in. He found them undressing each other. He was incredulous. These two delightful boys were here in his room, carrying on without a hint of embarrassment as though he wasn’t even there! This was quite extraordinary! Watching two beautiful young boys having sex had been one of his abiding fantasises, but it had been many years since it had last been realised. But it was being realised now, right here in his bedroom, the two lads now dressed only in their white underpants. A moment later those were gone too. It was a dream come true, two gorgeous boys, in all their naked glory, right here in his bedroom. They got onto the bed, lying back and smiling at him. They looked so happy.
“D’you like it, sir?” Peter asked.
“I like it very much, thank you,” he responded.
“Of course, nothing has actually happened,” Patrick said, grinning mischievously, “Just like nothing ever does happen when I come here. The boys at school have got so bored with hearing me say it they don’t even ask me any more.”
Mr. Burman was astounded. He’d known from quite early on that Patrick was very bright; to find that the boy could also be extremely devious when the situation warranted it was a total surprise. These two delightful little monkeys must have been planning this for weeks, he surmised. He could hardly wait to find out what else they had in store for him. And, of course, the boy was quite right. Word of whatever went on would never go outside the door; not even his colleagues Jim Cooper and Mike Thompson would get to hear of it.
On the bed the two boys were kissing passionately, their hands roaming everywhere. It was, Mr. Burman considered, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He began to undress, clothes seeming so completely inappropriate when confronted with such a scene. He stripped to his jockey shorts. In front of him, the passionate kissing had been transformed into an equally enthusiastic sixty-nine. He was well aware of Peter’s oral talents, but it seemed that Patrick’s were equally well-developed. He hadn’t seen anything like this since he’d been at school himself.
He was slightly puzzled though; if Peter intended to fuck his friend, why wasn’t he beginning the preparation now? But obvious as it seemed to him, Peter made no move. After a further couple of minutes the boys separated. Patrick got onto all fours, knees well forward, head and shoulders down on the mattress. Mr. Burman pulled off his shorts, watching eagerly as Peter moved around, kneeling behind Patrick, the tube KY in hand, but to his surprise Peter simply sat back on his heels, dumping the tube on the bed. He simply couldn’t understand what the boy was doing.
Peter flexed his jaw muscles, licked his lips and leaned forwards. Mr. Burman’s jaw dropped. Surely, he thought, he wasn’t going to . . . ? But he was, his tongue lapping eagerly at Patrick’s anus. Mr. Burman thought he might faint. He’d heard of it, he might even have read about it, but he’d never seen it; he’d certainly never done it, never even contemplated doing it. But Peter Cranham, the thirteen year old son of a senior British diplomat, was doing it to one of his school fellows right here in his bedroom! It was quite incredible, and if that wasn’t enough, Patrick’s reaction was even more astonishing; the boy was moaning and gurgling, practically begging for more.
Patrick emitted a louder moan. Mr. Burman blinked, convinced that his eyes must have deceived him, but a second inspection confirmed what he’d already seen, Peter had pushed his tongue right into Patrick’s bottom. Mr. Burman had never been totally sure that such as thing was even possible, but it clearly was; the evidence was there in front of him. A few seconds later Peter withdrew his tongue and swung his body back to the upright position. Giving Mr. Burman a cheeky grin, he calmly squeezed lubricant onto his fingers.
His preparations completed, he got up on his knees, shuffling in close, his penis aimed directly at Patrick’s sphincter. Had they been on their own, this wasn’t a position they would have chosen, but for these purposes it was ideal. For one thing it would allow Mr. Burman an excellent view, but even more important, as long as neither of them touched the boy’s penis, it was unlikely that Patrick would ejaculate. He penetrated the boy immediately, his penis spearing into Patrick’s bottom. A few moments later he was eagerly fucking him.
Mr. Burman was mesmerised. Never in his wildest dreams could he have envisaged that these boys would provide him with such a show. It had been more than twenty years since he’d seen two boys having anal sex, and that had been a seventeen year old with an admittedly rather cute fourteen year old; it didn’t compare with what he was seeing here. Everything about it was exquisite, right down to Patrick’s quiet moans and whimpers, a clear indication of how much the boy loved what Peter was doing. They could not have given him a greater privilege.
Peter’s breathing became ragged and uneven, his body covered in a sheen of perspiration. He thrust in one final time.
“Nng!” he gasped. “Nnng! Nnng!! Aaaaarrrggghhh!!!!”
His penis jerked into action, several jets of semen spurting deep into Patrick’s rectum. He held his position for several seconds then slowly withdrew, sinking back onto his heels. Patrick stayed exactly where he was. Mr. Burman too remained motionless, sitting transfixed by the side of the bed. It had been the most beautiful, remarkable thing he’d ever seen. Finally Peter spoke.
“Okay Patrick,” he said quietly. “Are you ready to have your bum stretched?”
“Yes,” Patrick answered.
“And is that what you want?”
Mr. Burman heard the words perfectly, but his brain couldn’t process them. Peter slipped off the bed and stood next to him, his hand on his mentor’s shoulder.
“They you are, sir,” he said warmly. “He’s all yours.”
The man looked up at him disbelievingly.
“It’s okay,” Peter confirmed brightly. “People do change their minds, you know. It’s your Christmas surprise.”
The realisation dawned, not like Christmas, but the brightest of summer days. Patrick, beautiful Patrick, whom he had desired for so long, the wonderful young musician that he had given up hope of ever connecting with physically, had finally changed his mind. He climbed onto the bed. It appeared that the boy was expecting to be fucked right there, but that would never do; it was too crude, too impersonal. Patrick deserved far better than that. He lay down, rolling onto his side to face the boy.
“Lie down,” he said softly.
Patrick flopped down next to him. He wrapped his arms around the lad’s back, the touch of his skin a total delight.
“You’ve made me wait a long time for this,” he said gently.
“Sorry, sir,” Patrick responded. “I guess I just didn’t feel right about it before.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Mr. Burman said soothingly, licking Patrick’s nose. “If you had accepted my first invitation I would never have met Peter and both he and I would have missed out on a great deal. So what about now?”
“I’m ready now, sir,” Patrick confirmed.
Mr. Burman drew the boy into a long, passionate kiss. Patrick had been concerned about this part; would the man be all scratchy? What would he smell like? His fears were overcome in an instant; Mr. Burman’s face wasn’t scratchy at all, and his aroma was similar to Justin’s but richer and stronger. He melted into the man’s arms, eagerly returning his affection. Mr. Burman was transported to heaven; Patrick kissed beautifully, exquisitely, with style, grace and enthusiasm, the same way that he did everything, his individuality shining through in every nuance. It could not have been better.
They pulled apart, smiling at each other. Mr Burman rolled Patrick onto his back, licking his way down the boy’s slender body until he arrived at his ultimate prize. He slid his lips over Patrick’s slim four inch penis, pushing his way slowly down until he had it completely in his mouth. He sucked it lovingly, the taste and texture of it total perfection, his fingers gently caressing the boy’s testicles and massaging his perineum. Patrick moaned with pleasure, writhing involuntarily, his teacher’s ministrations driving him almost insane. Even Justin hadn’t stimulated him the way Mr. Burman was doing.
It was time for the favour to be returned. Patrick settled his head on Mr. Burman’s tummy, holding the base of the man’s thick seven inch penis. He licked the large shiny head then opened his mouth, sliding his lips right over it, steadily working his way down until he’d gone as far as he could. He began to suck, quite slowly at first but gradually building up to a strong, steady rhythm, his tongue being used to maximum effect. Mr. Burman almost exploded. No boy had ever sucked him like this, the flicks of Patrick’s tongue over the head and into the opening sending bolts of electricity right through him.
“Patrick! Patrick! He gasped. “Ooh! You’d . . . you’d better stop!”
Patrick let him go and flopped down alongside him, a broad grin on his face.
“Was that okay sir?” he enquired.
“That was more than okay!” Mr. Burman confirmed, still gasping for breath.
“Justin used to love being sucked like that,” Patrick informed him.
“I bet he did!” Mr. Burman said. “But didn’t he cum?”
“He did sometimes,” Patrick said casually, “but I usually managed to stop in time. I didn’t mind; I loved having his spunk in my mouth. So what d’you want now, sir?”
“Get on all fours,” Mr. Burman whispered.
Patrick readily complied. Mr. Burman moved around behind, exactly where Peter had been, Peter, still delightfully naked, now occupying the same vantage point that he had enjoyed. He swallowed hard. He’d never even dreamed of doing this, but watching Peter and seeing Patrick’s reaction had changed everything, and the boys had both taken a bath before they went to the concert so there was no excuse. He leant forward, swiping his tongue over Patrick’s anus, the boy emitting a quiet moan. He savoured it, running his tongue across his top teeth; it tasted of Patrick. He did it again. It was definitely Patrick, but more; it was Patrick’s inner being, the boy’s innermost core. He dived right in, pressing his tongue against the boy’s sphincter. It yielded. He pushed inside.
“Ohh, sir!” Patrick gasped, quite unprepared for this latest delight.
Mr. Burman encountered Peter’s semen, warm and tangy on his tongue. He pushed in deeper. He found more, licking it eagerly, driving Patrick into near-delirium. He finally withdrew; there was only one thing left. He applied lubricant to both Patrick and himself then pulled a pillow into the middle of the bed, covering it with an old towel.
“Lie down,” he said quietly.
Patrick flopped onto his tummy; somehow he’d expected it to be like this. Very gently, Mr. Burman got down on top of him, the man’s penis prodding at his sphincter. There was an explosion of pain. Patrick cried out, quite unable to stop himself. Mr. Burman held his position, Very slowly Patrick relaxed. Mr. Burman pushed further in, encountering the boy’s prostate.
“Ohhhh!!” Patrick moaned.
Mr. Burman continued to push until he was fully inside, his tummy pressed tight against Patrick’s bottom.
“Is that all right?” he enquired gently.
“Yes sir,” Patrick confirmed.
“So are you ready?”
“Yes, please sir,” Patrick said. “I want you to bum me.”
Mr. Burman carefully lowered himself, resting on his forearms so that Patrick would not have to take his full weight. He set to the task, a joy he thought he’d never have, fucking one of the most beautiful, sexy boys he’d ever encountered. He’s have loved to make it last, but that would leave the boy far too sore. One day Patrick might be ready for one of his fifteen minute specials, but now was not the time. In any case, he was in such a state of excitement that he wasn’t sure he could have managed it. He fucked eagerly, burying his face is boy’s hair, nuzzling his neck, licking his left ear; it was all quite wonderful.
Patrick was in total ecstasy; although still quite painful, the sheer passion and intensity of the fucking that Mr. Burman was giving him far exceeded any of his previous experiences. This was what he’d expected it to be like; this was why he was here, and it had not disappointed. His body was gripped by wild convulsions, his fingers clawing at the mattress.
“Oh!” he gasped. “Oh sir!!”
His penis sprang into life, volleys of watery fluid squirting onto the towel. Mr. Burman was overwhelmed. One final thrust and his orgasm was upon him, his penis pumping semen over and over into Patrick’s bottom.
It was finally over. It had been the most extraordinary hour of Mr. Burman’s entire life; he could scarcely believe it had all happened. If he had to select an hour of his life to live a second time, it would have to be this one. He carefully withdrew. Peter was still sitting where he’d been before.
“I think you enjoyed that, sir,” he said brightly.
Mr. Burman didn’t respond; he couldn’t think of anything to say, except that as an understatement Peter’s last comment would take quite some beating. Very gingerly, Patrick got onto his knees, semen seeping from his anus and trickling down his legs.
“I need the bathroom,” he said quietly.
He got off the bed and made his way out, walking somewhat awkwardly.
“Go and make sure he’s okay,” Mr. Burman whispered.
Peter grinned and nodded, gathering up Patrick’s clothes and taking them to the guest room. He tapped on the bathroom door.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m a bit sore,” Patrick answered. “Well, a lot sore actually, but it’s no problem; I’ll be fine in the morning.”
“Great,” Peter said brightly. “I’ve taken your clothes and left them on your bed.”
He returned to Mr. Burman’s room to convey the good news.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Somewhat reluctantly, Patrick opened an eye. Peter was kneeling by the bed, smiling at him.
“What’s the time?” Patrick asked suspiciously.
“Twenty past seven,” Peter informed him. “The Lord and Master would like to know how you’re feeling this morning.”
“Tell the Lord and Master that I am a little sore,” Patrick instructed in a mock serious tone, “but otherwise fit and well.” He paused for a second. “Man, that was the best fuck ever!” he added quietly, talking normally again. “I’ll be ready for a repeat performance any time he wants. Well, not right now, but you know what I mean. Anyway, I’m okay; a bit sore but I’ll still be able to go running when we get back.”
“I thought you were enjoying it!” Peter said, giggling. “Are you doing much over the Christmas hols?”
“Not that much,” Patrick said stretching. “I’ll be spending a few days with the grandparents till dad finishes work, then they’ll come to us for Christmas day. Boxing Day we go to see my other gran, that’s my dad’s mum. I’ll have some work to do, of course. That’s about it.”
“Don’t you like your other gran much?” Peter asked, picking up the irritation in Patrick’s voice.
“No, she’s an old bat!” Patrick confirmed. “Dad left home as soon as he finished university just to get away from her. She’s always nagging him to do this or do that or he ought to make me get my hair cut or something; she never does anything but criticise. Anyway, we go along and behave ourselves for a few hours. Why are you asking?”
“You could come and stay with us for a couple of days if you want,” Peter said. “We live by Clapham Common; it’s not far, just the other side of the river; we drive right past it. Then we could come here if you want. I quite often do that in the holidays.”
“Won’t you have to ask?” Patrick enquired.
“Not really,” Peter said casually, “just tell them you’re coming. Mum and dad will be home this Christmas; the house will be pretty much like a railway station anyway, people coming and going; one more or less won’t make much difference. And I’ve got a put-me-up in my room so nobody will think anything of it, not that you’ll have to use it, of course. We’ve even got a piano you can practise on.”
“Sounds great,” Patrick said. “I’ll ask dad; it should be okay.”
“You live in Guildford, don’t you?” Peter said. “Just get a train to Clapham Junction; I’ll meet you there.”
“Cool,” Patrick said, smiling.
“Well, I’ll let you make the announcement on that one,” Peter said, grinning mischievously, “let the Lord and Master know about the little bonus he’ll be getting. Anyway, must be getting along!”
He stood up and left the room.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Breakfast was a joyful affair, everyone in excellent spirits. It was time to leave.
“These are the concerts we’ll be going to next term,” Peter commented, indicating a 1974 calendar, the relevant dates marked in red.
“I’m very much looking forward to that one,” Mr. Burman added, pointing to the first of them, “welcoming you boys here again.”
“Oh, I think you’ll be seeing us before that,” Patrick said casually, giving his teacher a big smile. “I’ll be staying at Peter’s house for a couple of days over the Christmas hols; we thought we might come and see you then.”
Mr. Burman straightened his bow tie, smiling contentedly. His Christmas surprise was to be followed by a New Year bonus. How could life possibly be any sweeter?