A story that combines the circles of the upper class and the pop world, and how one boy learned all he needed to know to enjoy his future.



Kalvin Hutchkinson hurried down Belgrave Place, turned into Eaton Square, ran up the steps to his front door and let himself in. Once inside the outer hall which doubled as a cloakroom, he kicked off his brown leather Charles Tyrwhitt casual shoes, lifted them with his foot, one at a time, into the shoe rack, took off his Higgs black leather overcoat, damp from the light summer rain, and hung it on its hanger on a coathook on the wall. He opened the inner door and walked in barefoot, pulling his white t-shirt off and throwing it in a corner before closing the door and standing in front of the small gilt framed mirror that hung just inside and surveying his teenage chest and grinning face.

"He spoke to me, Darren Pointer actually spoke to me!" he said.

Darren Pointer, bass guitarist in the punk group `Hardcore' had long been Kalvin's masturbatory fantasy. His long straight black hair, combed down over the right eye of his babyish face in the `Emo' style had identified him immediately to Kalvin at the Dolce & Gabbana section of Selfridges menswear department, when they had both gone to lift the same pair of designer jeans from a shelf.

"Darren? Darren Pointer?" Kalvin had dumbly said as he recognised his dreamstar.

"Yeah! That's me!" Darren had replied, offering a hand for Kalvin to shake. "Who are you?" he'd smiled in a very friendly manner, polite, not like his wild onstage persona at all.

"K-Kalvin, Kalvin Hutchkinson!" Kalvin had stuttered as the rocker had taken his rather sweaty hand in a very firm grip.

"Not Sir Robert Hutchkinson's lad?" he asked surprisedly. The tone and degree of interest put him way above the tough arrogance Kalvin had assumed he would have in real life.

"Y-yes!" Kalvin managed, astounded that the guy who got him hard just by walking out on stage had even heard of his father.

"Hey! Small world! He did my Dad's heart operation last year. Glad to meet you! He said he had a son!" Darren shook Kalvin's hand even harder. "Did a great job. The old man chases me all over the house now, when I annoy him!" Darren quipped.

Kalvin was too stunned to speak. And too embarrassed, because his erection was pushing his black satin-finish Ted Baker trousers out, betraying his attraction to the young man.

"Hey! Did you want these?" Darren asked, lifting the jeans they both were holding from the shelf.

"Er, no. You were before me, anyway." Kalvin said, releasing his grip on the designer faded blue denims.

"No, you have them, I insist!" Darren said, pushing them towards Kalvin.

"N-no -- er -- they're not my size!" Kalvin stuttered, hiding his groin in a collection of sweatshirts hanging from a circular rack.

"Right!" laughed Darren. "It's alright them hanging from your hip, but falling round your ankles is something else!"

"Er -- yeah! Hahahaha!" Kalvin was sweating crazily now.

"If you aren't having them, then I will. They're just what I want for the Albert Hall gig next week. Thanks, Kalvin." Darren said, releasing the grip he still had on Kalvin's hand - but only allowing it to slide slowly through his fingers.

"You are coming, aren't you?" Darren said just as Kalvin expected him to turn and go.

"What?? Oh -- er, no. I haven't got tickets." he said, frightened for a split second that Darren sensed how close he actually was to losing it in his pants.

"I'll see that you get some, for you and your girlfriend. Dad's got your Father's address somewhere." Darren said as he started to walk away.

"I haven't got a -" Kalvin started to say, loud enough for Darren to hear as the distance between them grew. `Fuck! Totally the wrong thing to say!' he thought, but as he watched, Darren Pointer turned his head back towards him, smiling. And winked.

Kalvin had pushed his satin-finish trousers down to his ankles and his pants to his thighs as he remembered their meeting, and was rubbing his left nipple with his fingers as his right hand worked his rock hard cock furiously recalling that smile and wink.


Kalvin jumped out of his skin as he turned to see Mr. Jackson, their butler, standing in the front room doorway.

"I think it would be prudent for you to retire to your room to do that, Master Kalvin." Jackson said, calmly and quietly as befitted his station.

"Ohmygod!" Kalvin shrieked, hurriedly pulling up his trousers and pants in one lift.

"Quickly, Sir. I've polished the parquet floor already this morning, you know." Jackson said.

Kalvin rushed up the stairs, still holding his trousers and pants in his hand and collapsed, red with embarrassment, on the settee in his large private room.

"Oh my God! Jackson saw me wanking off!" he said to himself, as the total horror of the situation hit him. Memories of Darren Pointer had flown from his mind. `I didn't even know he was here today, everyone should be out.' he thought.

True, Mr. Jackson had planned to visit a friend in Brighton for a couple of days, but Kalvin wasn't to know that this friend had called off the visit at the last minute.

Three or four minutes later, a gentle knock at Kalvin's door announced Mr. Jackson's arrival.

"May I come in, Sir?" he called through the door, instead of just waiting to be told to enter.

"Yes, of course Mr. Jackson, come in." Kalvin called out. He had adjusted his trousers now, although he was still bare-chested.

"Sir." Jackson said as he opened the door, walked in and closed it behind him. He was carrying Kalvin's t-shirt, neatly folded, as it remained when he opened Kalvin's laundry basket and laid it gently on top of the jumble of sixteen year old's clothes inside.

"Sir, may I speak freely?" Jackson asked when he stood in front of Kalvin.

"Yes, you know you can." Kalvin replied, knowing what was to come. "I think I can guess what you have to say." he added, guiltily.

"I doubt it, Sir. May I sit down?"

"Of course you may, Mr. Jackson." Kalvin's father had insisted on him addressing their butler `Mister' before his name when he hired him, three months after Kalvin's Mother's death, four years ago. `Politeness begs respect.' he had said.

Jackson, still a sprightly man although in his late fifties, drew up his trouser legs by the crease and sat next to Kalvin.

"Master Kalvin," he began, "I'm sure I don't need to mention the unsuitability of the location of what you were doing earlier."

"No." mumbled Kalvin.

"I think I should mention that before I came into the employ of your father, I occupied the same position with two other families. Both had young sons who progressed through puberty whilst I was their, er, Pedagogue."

"What's that? Pedawhat?" Kalvin asked, turning to the butler.

"Pedagogue, Sir. A person who cares for and teaches children through their, er, difficult years."

"Oh." Kalvin said, a little wiser.

"You were twelve years old when I came here, and I assumed you had learnt the ways of the world from your father, he being in the medical profession, or perhaps friends of your peer group."

"You mean the facts of life? Yes, Dad had that talk with me years ago." Kalvin said. "I know all that stuff!" he sniggered.

"But you haven't had anybody guide you through the stages of your body's growth, or your mental desires, have you Master Kalvin?"

"Mental desires, Mr. Jackson?" Kalvin said, not entirely grasping the butler's meaning.

"Fantasies, I expect you call them these days, Sir." Jackson said.

"Oh, girls and that!" Kalvin said, hoping to hide his secret from the butler.

"Not exactly, in your case, Sir." Jackson said, making a point of surveying the posters of `Hardcore' and Darren Pointer over Kalvin's bed. Kalvin blushed.

"You've never mentioned any young ladies names, but as you mentioned that young man's name in the hallway earlier, and that combined with these (waving a hand at the posters) and the effect Mr. Pointer obviously had over you, well, it doesn't take a professor to add two and two, does it, Sir."

Kalvin hung his head in embarrassment and shame. "I suppose not." he said sadly.

"I hope I don't need to remind you that I hold a strong sense of confidentiality, Sir." Jackson said. Certainly he had never told Kalvin's father of his son's misdeeds, instead relying on the honesty and responsibility he'd taught the young teenager to respect, allowing him to own up to his actions and face the repercussions like a man. Kalvin knew he could trust him.

"In fact, Sir, the gentleman friend I was intending to spend a few days with this week and I have been pursuing a relationship for nearly thirty years now, but he seems to have temporarily found a younger man - for the time being. I'm sure that when that situation passes, as they usually do, he will reopen the invitation for me to visit him again."

"You're -- gay?" Kalvin gasped as he span round on the chair to look at the man.

"No Sir, homosexual." Jackson replied calmly. "The term `gay' implies overexuberant happiness, while I'm merely - content with my sexuality."

Kalvin's jaw sagged open. He would never have guessed in a million years that Mr. Jackson, who had served them for four years now with superb efficiency, had a male lover.

"What are you trying to say, Mr. Jackson?" he eventually managed to utter.

"That you may be innocent of many things you need to know as you near maturity, Sir." Jackson said. "And that it should be my intention to teach you as much as you are prepared to learn."

"How are you going to teach me?" Kalvin asked, anxious on a different account now.

"Well, Sir, that's the difficulty. The boys I taught before were eight and nine when I started with them -"

"And are they both gay too, now?" Kalvin interrupted.

Jackson laughed. "No Sir. Master Peter did have a boyfriend for a while, in his teens, but that was just a phase and both are mature married young men now, and Master Ian has two children!"

"So what did you teach them, and how?" Kalvin asked, intrigued now.

"Initially, Sir, to respect their bodies and those of their partners, when they became old enough to get partners. Then, how God and evolution has provided them with organs of procreation that would give them pleasures beyond their imagination throughout their lives."

Kalvin jumped several stages ahead. "You taught them how to wank?" he asked excitedly.

"Eventually, Sir, masturbation and self-control came under the aegis of my instruction, yes." Mr. Jackson replied, maintaining his dignity.

"You wanked them off?" Kalvin asked, incredulously.

"It was a necessary part of my instruction that self-pleasure should not become a debilitating habit, and that a shared pleasure was often an enhanced one, Sir."


"That was their reaction the first time, Sir!"

"Well I know all about doing that, what do you think you could teach me?" Kalvin asked after a few seconds thinking, wondering where all this was leading.

"Without appearing to be presumptuous, Sir, do you really think you know everything about masturbation? How many people have you practiced it with, for instance, and which do you find the best method?"

"Who? Only by myself, of course. It's too rude to do with anyone else present!" This was a lie, of course. He remembered Simon, who he was friends with at school until...


Simon Martens, a somewhat freckly child, had showed Kalvin what to do with his penis when it got hard in the school lavatory one cold winter's morning. "Rub it like this!" the grandson of a nouveau riche family (who had made quick money in the post-war housing construction business -`Martens homes for luxury you can afford!') had told him, "And when you feel tingly all over, this white stuff shoots out, and you feel -- well, it's wonderful!"

The two boys had stood side by side, rubbing furiously, but when Kalvin felt the `tingly' feeling he was scared and stopped, but Simon had squirted a little jet of white into the bowl and sighed "Yes! That's it! It's fantastic!"

"Do it for me!" the youthful Kalvin had asked him enthusiastically, and the boy had, but the next time Kalvin had asked him "Ewww! No! Do it yourself!" had been the reply. After Kalvin had asked him to do it for him again a couple of times, young Martens had avoided him for the rest of the school year, and had moved to a boarding school by the following one.

Kalvin had tried again when he got home, but when his own jet of `white stuff' had come it shot so far it stained the wallpaper in their bathroom, so he had to say that the wet soap had jumped from his hand and he'd ruined the paper trying to rub the mark out. His father had listened to the excuse with one eyebrow raised, which Kalvin knew meant `I don't really believe you, but the answer will do'. Ever since then he had taken more careful aim when he --


"Not at all, Sir. So long as you have the full agreement of, and are sure of the confidentiality of your friend, there are countless boys you can, er, that is, could have done it with."

Kalvin began to realise that his education was sadly lacking in some aspects.

"Many of them have different techniques, and quite a few will, er, would have been willing to demonstrate their particular favourite on you, in exchange for your showing them something new." Jackson looked over at the astonished teenager and added "Or you could have practised together what you knew already." with a wry smile.

He saw in Kalvin's eyes the look of lost opportunity, and knew straight away what to do about it.

"Sir, if you will permit me, close your eyes. Whatever happens, sit back, keep them closed and keep your hands and arms still."

Not knowing what to do, Kalvin complied with the request. Until he felt his trousers being unzipped.

"Mr. Jackson!"

"No, Sir, not Mr. Jackson. That young Mr. Pointer perhaps?"

Kalvin closed his eyes again as he felt fingers enter his underpants, coaxing his penis out through the front opening.

"Darren!" he whispered as the fingers became a palm, wrapping round his growing erection.

The effect of a different hand and a different action, all new experiences for Kalvin, were that within thirty seconds he was shooting harder than he had in his life before. After four shots, he felt something else -- something warm, and damp -- no, wet - surrounding his erection and descending on it. His head shot forwards, and his eyes open.

"Jacks -" he started, then remembered the instruction, and a dream he didn't want to break, closed his eyes again and tilted his head back.

"Darren!" he sighed when, as if he hadn't climaxed already, his pelvic muscles cramped in contraction again once, twice...four more times.


Kalvin opened his eyes again as the glow in his body subdued, in time to see Mr. Jackson regaining an upright posture on the settee.

"Jackson, I'm gobsmacked!" he said.

"No, Sir, you're astounded." the butler corrected him. "Now if you'll excuse me, it looks as though I have to take your trousers to the dry cleaners, Sir. If you would care to change, I'll wash your underwear as well, and yesterday's clothes from your basket."

Kalvin looked down and saw three lines of ejaculate on his trouser leg.

"Where's the rest gone?" he asked, confused.

Mr Jackson stood up, licked his lips and said "Disposed of, Sir. Shall I lay you out some fresh clothing?"

"Er -- yes, please." Kalvin said, not believing his understanding of the last statement. "Er -- I'll take a bath first, I think I need to relax."

"Very good, Sir." the butler said. "Will there be anything else, Sir?"

"No, thank you." Kalvin said, stepping out of his trousers and walking towards his bathroom. Once inside, he slipped the white and grey patterned underpants off and opened the door to throw them at his laundry basket. He looked over at the butler, who was choosing a pair of trousers from the rack in his walk-in wardrobe.

"Mr. Jackson!" he called out, and as the immaculately dressed servant turned he asked "Did you really swallow my -"

"Indeed, Sir." Mr. Jackson replied politely.

"Wow!" Kalvin gasped as he turned back into the bathroom.

Mr. Jackson just smiled to himself.