This story contains descriptions of sexual acts involving a man and a MINOR boy, which are an integral part of the story. While the story may appeal to prurient interests, it is intended to have serious literary value. As a friend once said: "Everyone has the right to fantasy. No one has the right to censor an imagination, or dreams." With that in mind, know that this story is not true! The sexual acts described in the story are the result of my imagination. I have not performed these acts, and I do not encourage others to perform them with minors.
The story is not intended to promote illegal acts against minors, but to demonstrate that men and boys can love each other despite the prevalent attitudes of western society. It is my goal to help readers appreciate that love. If the subject of man/boy love offends you, if this material is illegal in your place of residence, or if you are under the legal age for such material, do not read further!
By downloading this story:
"... you implicitly declare and affirm under penalties of perjury that you are not a minor or in the company of a minor and are entitled to have access to material intended for mature, responsible members of society capable of making decisions about the content of documents they wish to read...."
Rights and Restrictions:
The story is copyrighted under my pseudonym, Ganymede. A copy has been placed in the Nifty archives for your enjoyment. Further dissemination is allowed with the provisos that full credit is given to ‘Ganymede.’ The story cannot be placed in archives that require payment for access, or distributed in any form that requires payment, either directly or indirectly. Derivative works, whether using characters, settings, plot, or any other aspect are NOT allowed.
Any similarity to individuals, living or dead, is entirely accidental. Reference is also made to real things and places that have become part of our culture. No implication is intended beyond establishing context. All copyrights and trademarks belong to the holders of such rights.
Contacting the author: If you want to show your appreciation, please send a donation to Nifty.
The Right Honorable Lord Peter Days was exactly four and a half minutes late, but he didn’t exceed the speed limit, not where surveillance cameras were almost as common as tourists. He braked with a squeal and swerved into a convenient gap behind a chauffeured, highly polished black Bentley.
“Blimey; it’s Andrew Telford in person,” he chuckled, taking an undeserved seventh place in the long queue of cars outside Adrian House in Vincent Square.
He waved a dutiful greeting through his open sunroof, still trying to calm down, impossible when he could feast his eyes on Westminster boys; most of them lively thoroughbreds like the barely tamed British stallions under the bonnet of his Aston Martin.
An astute authority after a lifetime of pursuing agile young males, Lord Days scanned their faces with growing desire. He much preferred Anglo to Arab and Asian, but a few brown-skinned boys still caught his eye. He lingered on a dark-eyed child whose India-born father played World Cup soccer. He was very good-looking, but not nearly as delectable as the lanky lad beside him, the blond, blue-eyed heir of Sir Robert Davies. After salivating for a heart-stopping moment, he focused his gaze on a sleek, raven-haired youngster dawdling closer, none other than Martin Telford. He was flawless in white cricket garb, angelic perfection for a pederast like himself. However, he searched for one face in particular, a boy without peer or pedigree. His boy was nothing short of sublime, charming, nimble, and exceedingly handsome; one might even say ‘pretty.’ Lord Days sighed when he saw the curly auburn-head. His boy waved at that very instant, hot and sweaty with a delicate blush on his cheeks, his hair perpetually disheveled like a scruffy Camden kid, or after a shower.
With the weekend to look forward to, Lord Days should have been overjoyed, but he had reason to worry. Ted Sparey, Choirmaster, part-time assistant to the PE instructor, and Rector of St. Margaret’s Church, escorted his protégé. Expecting the worst, he climbed from his platinum DB7 Vantage to extend his hand to the ruddy-faced, prim master.
“Lord Days, if you could spare a moment?” the master began.
It was all Lord Days could do to nod, his attention completely diverted to the delicious youngster standing before him. He was utterly besotted—his boy had an exquisite oval face with a pert snub of a nose, rare Venetian-brown eyes, and kissable Cupid’s bow lips that looked as if someone had applied too much fuchsia lipstick.
Never shy with Lord Days beside him, the boy stayed courteously quiet, but that didn’t stop him from grinning gleefully. Unaware, the master prattled on.
“Our boys usually don’t sing in the Abbey, and they’re always much older, but I took them over for this morning. It’s good for the little ones to hear themselves. Anyway, the Bishop heard your Julian sing. ‘That one belongs at Choir,’ he said….” The master went on and one before he stopped abruptly. “Lord Days?” he enquired pointedly.
Belatedly, Lord Days looked up. Instead of paying attention to a one-sided discussion about a duet to be sung at next Monday’s Evensong, he’d been thinking about more interesting things. Words escaped the usually loquacious Seventh Viscount of Derwent, alumnus of Eton and Cambridge, hereditary peer of the House of Lords, and learned Counsel in the Law of the Honourable Society of Lincoln’s Inn.
“A Choir School boy?” he finally mumbled, humbled that the Bishop would actually say such a thing.
Westminster Abbey Choir School was much smaller than Westminster Under School. It had 33 boys handpicked by an elite committee for their heavenly voices. The boys looked and sang like angels, all perfect trebles, all with white Van Dyck collars framing cherubic faces and bright red surplices shrouding bodies untouched by puberty. With a voyeur’s delight, Lord Days always imagined them naked. Not the fat boys, of course, but the rest with their hairless pink pricks in the upright position, an admirable collection from chubby-thumb nubbin to finger-sized noodle.
“Julian’s ideal, a beautiful boy with a voice to match. He’ll have to apply, of course, but I can tell you the Bishop was very impressed.”
“Of course,” Lord Days responded vaguely, thinking ‘beautiful’ odd; although from personal experience he’d long ago concluded that his under-aged lover had but a single shortcoming.
“As you know, an opportunity like this comes once in a lifetime. He’ll need to practice this weekend.”
“We’re hiking in the Lakes, but I’ll make sure he exercises his voice too,” Lord Days muttered.
He was still thinking about the unexpected complication when he observed Andrew Telford’s complimentary nod and realized he’d not said a word to Julian, not even ‘hello.’ He placed his hand firmly on his boy’s shoulder to confirm that physical possession went with obsession.
Only then, the master glanced from man to boy. An unabashed leer from the lad was the last thing he expected. He’d often observed lustful looks on pubescent boys, almost never on a child who was years from maturing. About then, he noticed the elongated lump in Lord Days’ trousers, and the jigsaw slotted together. When a single man and a pretty, effeminate boy weren’t related, but always together, there was only one explanation.
“I’m green with envy,” he said, thinking, ‘My God, Lord Days is as queer as I am.’
“It’ll likely rain all weekend, but we should be able to get in some hiking.”
“A little drizzle wouldn’t bother me.”
The master couldn’t help smirking at Julian. On cue, the lad smiled back at him, which had the effect of elevating his blood pressure into precarious territory. Try as he could, he couldn’t stop himself from saying more, rather brashly given the circumstances.
“… and certainly not a spunky boy like your Julian.”
“It’s me I’m worried about, not spunky boy,” Lord Days chuckled, his gaze riveted on Julian’s disorderly curls.
“I’m sure he needs plenty of exercise, but I wouldn’t overdo it.”
With twenty years of experience seducing Westminster Under School scholarship boys, and a few scions of gentry thrown in for good measure, repartee came easily to Ted Sparey.
“Just enough to keep him in top form, eh?” Lord Days quipped in return, middle-aged yearning making his heart race.
He gently rubbed Julian’s shoulder, appreciating lithe muscle tone. After four hours of fencing a week and a two-hour private lesson on Saturday morning, Julian had the reflexes of a snake charmer’s cobra, delightfully wiry, yet as strong as a boy could be without lifting weights. With an upward grin, Julian placed his hand over Lord Days’ much larger hand, his thumb stroking gently, seeming innocent, yet very erotic if one knew what to look for. Master Sparey did; and he gawked until he came back to earth.
“He’s an active lad, but you don’t want him too tired. He’ll just want to sleep when you get back to the room.”
He paused to inhale, not believing he’d said that. Then, his eyes went wide as the boy’s little thumb snuggled between two much bigger fingers. Only older boys did something like that!
“I’ve no worry on that score. He’s always excited,” Lord Days bantered, not even a little taken back.
Even without the thumb going in and out, a perceptive pederast would sooner or later ogle Julian’s regulation worsted-wool shorts; and Master Sparey was no exception. He quickly succumbed, all but salivating as he contemplated the convergence of slim boy-thighs. Straightaway, Lord Days spotted his interest. It both annoyed and amused him that another man appraised four-foot-tall Julian like a dog competing for Crufts Best of Breed. The boy was his catamite, after all.
“I’m sure he is….” Sparey salivated, almost slicking his lips.
Honestly, there wasn’t much to see. Julian’s crotch was barely a bump; which was hardly surprising given his age. Not that size mattered— Sparey had long ago decided that a boy’s private parts should be small until puberty started, the later the better. And yet, Julian’s trifling bump struck him as perky, his shorts draped with a trace of a crease. Like a faded signpost, it hinted at the unknown, a journey of discovery, the unveiling the adventure of a lifetime.
“… always excited,” the master gulped, certain there was enough in front that a man had something to play with, or maybe… He finally averted his gaze as the delicious Martin Telford sauntered past.
Martin could beguile a man with a smile, and Ted Sparey surrendered as nature intended. The boy was delightful in class. He was a little conceited, but he had reason to be. Besides, his bubbly bottom more than compensated. Not nearly as skinny as Julian, though a long way from plump, Martin was equally good looking.
Sparey tried to decide which boy he preferred, not noticing that Martin bestowed a teasing smile on Lord Days. Martin’s full crimson lips aroused instant desire, but it was the way his eyes danced over a man that made him utterly irresistible. Then, he smirked right at Julian, a patronizing look that as much as said, ‘I bet you fart a lot after you’ve been in his bed.’
“He’s at that age,” Lord Days remarked coolly, who was at that very moment imagining the possibilities when he and Andrew arranged to get their boys together for a weekend of fun.
Uncertain whether Lord Days referred to the mouth-watering Martin or his own lad, Ted Sparey offered a simpering smile and inspected Julian even closer. Sinewy arms, lightly suntanned, no doubt lingering from the French Riviera, smooth-as-alabaster with not even a freckle; if the boy had a flaw, he couldn’t see it.
“From eight to thirteen, they’re all at that age,” he said, emboldened by his recent encounter with boy-lust.
Not surprisingly, Lord Days agreed with an affectionate smile. Julian was nine, his favorite age. At that very moment, Julian looked up. He gazed into his youthful companion’s liquid-brown eyes, soulful, sensuous, and serious. It was only a few heartbeats, but quite long enough.
About then, his beautiful boy turned his playful watch on the master.
“Mesmerizing,” Sparey sputtered, rather red-faced, but he couldn’t think of a better word. “Julian’s eyes… it’s like looking at a Guido Reni angel. You’ll pardon my foibles, won’t you Lord Days?”
He was close to losing control before he managed to stop staring. It took all of his willpower, and he still couldn’t prevent his eyes from darting back to Julian’s groin. What had been little more than a hint of male was now patently obvious. In an instant, he was certain the fold came from hardness, the kind that belonged to penile erection. Instinctively, his gaze flickered sideways, observing a vastly larger lump beneath Lord Days’ tailored trousers. The bulge was big enough to give a boy cause to walk awkwardly afterwards.
“Well, we all have our foibles, don’t we?” Lord Days said, his thoughts elsewhere.
Somehow, he stayed surprisingly calm as he observed Andrew Telford hug his own little lover. He acknowledged the other man’s distant smile with an equally appreciative smile of his own. Sooner or later, he’d make a call and arrange a meeting with London’s richest pedophile. For good reason, he kept a very low profile, but boys like Julian and Martin needed friends like themselves.
Meanwhile, the master tried hard to remember if he’d seen Julian waddle, a condition customarily observed in public school lads after a bumming. He hadn’t, not since November when the boy started at Westminster. He was a bundle of energy, but there was something about him...
Sparey looked up with a spontaneous smirk. When Julian changed after PE, it was always with his back to the wall. Most boys faced in for privacy. It was only a few who did otherwise; who didn’t care if anyone saw them, occasionally one who had something to hide. An attentive master would have realized the ‘game was afoot,’ but he’d been more interested in catching a glimpse of the lad’s genitalia.
“Well, I won’t keep you longer, Lord Days, but a rainy weekend in the Lakes sounds rather naughty,” he added recklessly, easily imagining what an infatuated boy and an indulgent man might do for entertainment, besides hiking.
Lord Days’ expression remained inscrutably noble. “Naughty? I’m not sure what you mean.”
With a shameless smirk, Julian finally peeped in an unlikely Southampton accent, “I’m never naughty, Sir.”
“Saucy lad!” Sparey laughed indiscreetly, his spot-on assessment, ‘a right little poof;’ but a man couldn’t ask for more.
Lord Days took Julian’s small, sweaty hand to lead him away. Julian paused to wave to Martin Telford, who was just getting into the Bentley after receiving a protracted hug from his benefactor. He barely stifled his giggle until the Aston negotiated a place in the Friday afternoon scuttle of black cabs and red buses. Then, he erupted.
“What’s so funny?” Lord Days demanded, a little perturbed that his secret might be ‘out’ with the master.
“You got a stiffy,” Julian sniggered and pointed.
“Because of you, you little blighter. Never naughty indeed.”
“Master Sparey saw it,” Julian teased, remarkably observant for his age.
Lord Days tried to ignore the brazen boy beside him, something he had to do at least ten times a day.
“Mum says ‘aving a ‘ard one just means everything’s working like it’s ‘sposed to,” Julian added gleefully.
“She’d know. She sees you with one often enough.” He grinned at his boy. “What was all that with your hand?”
Julian giggled back. “Martin says it’s what queer boys do when they’re ‘orny.”
“It’s what we did when I was in school, only we never did it in front of a master.”
“I ain’ worried ‘e seen you wiv a stiff.”
“And why’s that?”
Julian smirked, pulling off his red-striped tie. “ ’airy Fairy, that’s what Martin calls ‘im; ‘e’s the same as you, ‘e is. ‘e’s always got one stickin’ out.”
“Now you’re making it up.”
“Everyone knows ’e likes boys. ‘e pervs on us when we change!”
“I expect he’s just making sure you behave yourselves.”
“Not ‘im! Just the opposite. Lets us muck about, ‘e does, so’s ‘e can look at our bums.”
“Nothing wrong with that. I could look at your bum all day.”
Julian grinned gleefully. “There was a wet spot on ‘is trousers today. Told us ‘e spilled ‘is tea, ‘e did, but it weren’t tea.”
“What was it then?”
“Spunk, silly. ‘e must ‘ave shot loads for it to soak through ‘is trousers.”
Chortling until tears rolled from his eyes, the precocious child swiveled in his seat to hug the spaniel nuzzling his ear. Lord Days envied the dog and affectionately squeezed the nearest bare knee, the way a man caressed a boy when he loved him. He stroked little circles as he exchanged a slightly scarred, bony knee for the delicate sweaty hollow on the underside. He lingered on silk, before casually sliding his hand up the lean smooth thigh. Julian‘s school shorts still gave nothing away. At the best of times, there was scarcely enough to show he was male; almost impossible to tell if his boy was erect. The tips of his fingers grazed the hem and stopped, waiting for permission.
“Can’t say I blame him. Boys your age have nice little bums,” he said hoarsely.
Julian rolled his eyes, yet his small hot hand settled over Lord Days’ much larger hand. He was ‘smitten’—that’s what his mum said. So was Lord Days. After seven months, all it took to seduce the other was a playful hug, a meaningful glance, or as now, a very slight but deliberate push towards Julian‘s groin. Desires that sent men to prison tempted Lord Days. He couldn’t slow his hand if he’d wanted to, although he stopped just short of the prize, his fingertips fondling his boy’s inner thigh, dangerously close to actual contact.
“How was fencing?” he asked to ward off his craving. Julian held up his other hand before laying his thumb on his palm. “Four out of five? That’s very good.”
“Eric Davies beat me by two stupid points, only ‘cos I wasn’t on the ball. I ‘ad a double right before.”
“Tired as Avon, were you?”
Julian shrugged offhandedly. “I’m doing the duet with Eric. Master Sparey likes ‘im,” he muttered.
He was rapidly becoming aroused. Lord Days’ gentle stroking quickened his senses, like curious mice running along his thigh, getting very close, but never quite touching the cheese.
“He’s the blond boy in the middle of the first row?” Lord Days queried, already knowing the answer.
“’e puts the good-lookers in front, that’s what Martin says.”
With Julian occupying the front row next to Martin, apparently Ted Sparey shared Lord Days’ opinion on what constituted good looks.
Julian leaned closer, his pink tongue wantonly licking his lips. “Everyone knows Erica’s ‘is favourite.”
Lord Days’ fingers crept higher, outright molestation not far away. “Erica?” he enquired, feeling a sudden, rush of déjà vu.
“‘e looks like a girl, ‘e does, ‘cause ‘is ‘air’s so long. Fairy’s always touching ‘im,” he sneered like any boy would, although the very idea gave him butterflies.
Instead of pursuing, Lord Days pondered what ‘touching’ involved; it was safer that way. He caressed back and forth from knobby knee to sturdy mid-thigh, entranced by utterly hairless skin, tempted but never venturing under the hem. Half the fun came from teasing a boy. He took his hand away to put the transmission in Auto Shift, shuffling in the traffic that surrounded Victoria Station.
“Should have gone another way,” Julian observed brightly, his woolen shorts now plainly tighter in front. “Cromwell’s way faster than Kensington at this time of day,”
“Rather have you than GPS any day,” Lord Days replied, wishing that he’d had the sense to skirt through Belgravia’s backstreets.
He smiled to himself when Julian pointed out Apsley House. His family’s good fortune began when the first Viscount of Derwent campaigned with the Duke of Wellington, and later drank port with his generals in the library. The warrior ancestry didn’t end there— Lord Days’ grandfather died on the Somme, July 1, 1916; his father was Brigadier of the King’s Royal Hussars; and even Lord Days served in the Royal Marines before he went up to Cambridge.
“Why haven’t you told me about Eric before now?” he inquired after enough time had passed that it seemed harmless.
“You mean ‘im and Sparey?” Julian shrugged. “Dunno really. Cos it’s pervy, I s’pose.”
“Eric doesn’t mind?”
“Oh, ‘e carries on; says it makes ‘im feel funny and all, ‘e does, but ‘e likes it alright. Martin reckons ’e’s a bit of a poof.”
“Sounds like someone else I know.”
“Cos I like you touching me?” Julian suggested, looking coy. Then, he placed Lord Day’s hand on his knee again and began to move it up and down, getting closer to the target.
“Lots of boys like men to touch them,” Lord Days replied.
“Especially on their willies,” Julian added brashly.
“Nothing wrong with copping a feel if a boy’s in the mood.”
“Fairy’s after more than a feel; ‘e’s a bum chaser,” Julian snickered, his boy-bulge finally unmistakable.
“Now you’re making it up.”
“Am not! Everyone knows ‘e likes boys for their bums.” He moved his knees well apart to show his man that he could claim his willy whenever he wanted.
“Nothing wrong with that either,” Lord Days remarked, his face getting hotter.
It fascinated him how Julian behaved. It was as if he’d been programmed at birth, not at all the way that society expected a boy to be. With a sudden jerk, Julian relocated Lord Days’ hand, whose deviant desire bloomed the instant he fondled his boy’s hardness.
“Martin says it’s bums to the wall when Sparey’s ‘anging around,” Julian giggled.
Lord Days ascertained length and thickness, like a little thumb sticking out. “Probably a good idea by the sound of it,” he agreed.
He’d told Julian to turn around for a quite different reason—bum to the wall was essential when a boy engaged in habitual sodomy.
“You like gettin’ it nice and ‘ard, don’ you?”
“Just making sure everything’s working like it’s supposed to.”
Julian laughed and flexed as Lord Days squeezed, groping the firm little boy-bump. There was no allusion of virtue when he was alone with his patron.
As always, playing with his boy’s toy excited him. This time it was enough that he actually considered getting a room at The Lanesborough. He didn’t, of course. It was very expensive and far too public. The other alternative was his town house in Chelsea. It was discrete and just ten minutes away, but he’d have to put up with Ms. Summer hovering like a matronly ewe. Instead, he as he headed towards Harrods and the west of London. He amused himself by stroking Julian’s thigh, coming tantalizingly close to his boy’s bits. Finally, a break in the traffic allowed a brief spurt. He accelerated to 40 mph and, which was still too much—caution prevailed when cameras followed his every move.
Julian was oblivious to the hustle and bustle of Knightsbridge, comfortably embraced by sculpted ivory leather as supple as his bottom. No longer satisfied with just his thigh being fondled, he leaned over and boldly clutched the thick swelling lodged behind Lord Day’s trousers.
“Is ‘e ready to ‘ave fun?” he asked without a care in the world now that he was exploring the familiar lump.
Lord Days quickly relocated his own hand closer to Julian’s scabbed knee, hoping it would slow his mounting desire. However, Julian was intent on mauling his man’s groin, squashing the tender glans with the glee of an immature boy for whom torment was both pastime and calling.
“Do you want me to have an accident?”
Julian shook his unruly mane, but didn’t let go of the plump knob.
“Then, behave young man.”
Lord Days tried to sound serious, but Julian kept giggling. He squeezed even harder, his fingers made strong for their size by holding a foil.
“You’re always playin’ with mine, Peter.”
He’d earned the right to first names on a rainy Sunday evening seven months earlier, the first time he lay on his back with his knees nudging his ears. At the time, he’d thought he’d never enjoy it, but by the following Friday he yearned to be mounted. Just two weeks later, he begged for it.
“Boys’ willies are supposed to be played with. It’s how they get bigger.”
“Mine ought to be ‘uge.”
“True, but I’m glad it’s not.”
“‘ow about you play with mine? If you do, I’ll suck your big ugly fing,” Julian giggled again.
“Someone might see,” Lord Days mumbled, unable to look away from the cars in front for more than a few seconds.
Julian toyed with his belt buckle, grinning, always eager to participate in the games that men and boys played. “You can cop a feel fer a quid, Mister. Two if I take ‘em all the way off,” he offered, eager to act the part of a West End tart.
“You’d flog your bum for a pony, you would.”
“Not bloody likely. I’d need fifty for your lolly lick, and that’d be doin’ it cheap,” Julian rebounded, delighting in the crude Cockney that made his mum angry.
Lord Days chuckled. “Don’t think I’ve got a pound on me.” He took his hand away, pretending to look for a coin, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t trembling; all the while knowing he couldn’t control himself when Julian was sexed up. “I’ll run a tab for the weekend. Okay, open your fly, my dear.”
Far from shy, the boy carelessly flicked back his curls, more Julie than Julian for the moment. Beyond the dark tinted windows, they’d already passed Harrods, the Victoria and Albert Museum fast approaching.
“That V ‘n A’s really boring!” he declared as he fiddled with an obstinate button.
“I hope that doesn’t include what we did behind Aphrodite?”
Next to the Goddess of Love on a cold winter day, a few minutes before closing time, hidden in a musty out-of-the-way corner where no one could see them; they’d kissed in public for the very first time. It was awkward enough with Julian on tiptoes and Lord Days crouching down, but the slightest sound made them cringe. No tongues, just touching their lips like a chaste father and son, but it was enough to get both of them painfully stiff. It was the same day that Julian lost his virginity.
“It’s more fun snoggin’ in bed,” Julian asserted.
“Especially when my favourite boy doesn’t have any clothes on.”
”And Mum’s not listening in.” Julian tugged down his zipper, smirking openly.
“Just your fly,” Lord Days insisted, too much at stake.
“Any more and you owe me two quid, Peter.”
Lord Days swallowed his aristocratic reserve and stared. No matter how many times he watched his boy expose himself, he was always transfixed.
“What are you lookin’ at?” Julian demanded, more naughty than haughty.
“Are those red unders I see?”
“Mum bought ‘em. It’s like what them boys had on at Sainte Maxime… a fong… It’s really sexy...”
“I like my boy to look really sexy!”
“She bought it mostly for you.” Julian’s eyes flickered like a much older boy. “You’ll like it. It’s so tiny it barely covers me bum,” he confided.
“Sounds scrumptious. Should I get us a room?” Lord Days croaked.
He pointed at the next hotel up the road. Overfed Americans and a few supercilious Germans clustered at the Vanderbilt’s entrance, waiting for taxis. None of them would know that Julian wasn’t his son. They needn’t even stay for the night, just an hour or two; long enough to make love and have a cup of tea and a scone.
When Julian didn’t reply, he added, “You’ll have to give me a show later on.”
Julian grinned back at him, eager little fingers pushing his skimpy red briefs out of the way, small thumbs proudly pointing his constant companion through the gap in his shorts. It was standard issue for his age, a little thicker than average, yet scarcely longer than Lord Days’ penis was wide when they placed them together. On a small boy, it was sized just right. It was impeccable, flushed like his cheeks and perfectly straight. Fully extended, there was just enough skin to cover half of the tip—to the untrained eye, it might have been clipped.
“Someone’s got a nice hard willy,” Lord Days muttered.
Julian giggled and slowly pressed down with his thumbs, gleefully retracting his foreskin until it disappeared. It was as if he’d turned his chubby protrusion inside out, pink shiny satin replacing velvet, a little crimson bulb perched on top. When he let go, the skin slowly crept back.
“Give it a feel, Peter,” he instructed, inching closer.
Lord Days needed no further invitation. His finger brushed the delicate morsel and gently stroked up and down, his hand all but shaking as he sought self-control.
“You can do it properly, if you want,” Julian offered with a sly smile.
Lord Days easily captured it between his thumb and first finger, not too tightly, exactly the way a young boy liked to be held. It was hot and moist, the skin so soft that he could barely feel it, a membrane of silk enclosing a small bony core. What Julian lacked in size, hardness made up for, and it became even harder as he fingered the loose skin on the end, devotedly rolling it over the fleshy knob until he was rewarded with a soprano squeak from its owner.
“Nothing’s as much fun as wanking a willy, even with this,” he teased, pinching prepuce.
Lord Days was of the opinion that leaving a boy’s foreskin intact was a cardinal sin. Born after the war, he would’ve preferred to see Julian‘s glans exposed like his own, believing like his father after North Africa service that it was more hygienic that way, as well as much better looking. However, times had changed. Somewhere he’d read that less than one in twenty British boys were circumcised. He blamed it on Germans, Mediterranean vacations, and women’s liberation aesthetics.
“Feels good, that does,” Julian sighed.
His head lolled back, his eyes closed to slits. At his age, most boys hadn’t learned how to masturbate, yet he constantly wanted to do it. That was Lord Days’ doing, though it hadn’t been difficult to accomplish the transformation from curious to craving. At night they cuddled in the second-floor drawing room, watching Dr. Who reruns on the telly. All the while, Lord Days fondled his flawlessly shaped Bobby’s helmet. A couple of aching dry climaxes were enough to awaken the boy to the urge that controlled him. After that, it was simply a matter of teaching the nine year old how to masturbate properly.
In no hurry, Lord Days shifted to molesting undersized eggs, tugging gently as if checking for hernias, then rolling them to and fro. Julian tightened his groin muscles, making two inches twitch.
“Could my willy ‘ave some more please, sir?”
“I’m only ‘orny cos of you.”
He urged the boy’s tender knob into the light, amused by the well-stretched opening. The excess skin glided up and down effortlessly, puffy skin ripples bunching up neatly behind the little ruddy bell before forming a collar around it. It was loose for good reason, and easily accomplished. Before Julian went to sleep, Lord Days fitted a little silver ring to keep his foreskin in the pulled-back position.
“Should’ve gone home for you to change out of school clothes,” Lord Days suggested slyly.
“You just want to bum me.”
“More fun than hiking in the rain.”
“Rather, but we’re still goin’ ‘iking.” Julian happily flexed his nerve-filled flesh, tiny swollen veins nearly invisible. “Finish ‘im off, Peter.”
“You can always play with yourself, you know.”
“Rather you do it. You know you want to,” Julian grinned.
“I’ll have to stop when we get to the motorway.”
Lord Days stood firm when Julian’s safety was involved, but it wouldn’t take long for his boy to climax, not when his willy was as hard as rapier steel. A few minutes of expert up and down strokes was ample, even when Julian was distracted by BBC Kids on the car radio. Unfortunately, the motorway wasn’t that far away, two miles at most, but hopefully the traffic was slow.
By the time Cromwell Road became the Great West Road, the juvenile penis resembled a reddened, sore thumb. It was a little larger than when they’d started, still nothing to brag about, not like those lucky lads who sported three inches at Julian’s age.
“So friggin’ good,” Julian huffed, squirming in his seat. Then, he groaned, frightfully close to the end. “Go faster, Peter,” he ordered.
After a dozen brisk strokes, he tightened his fists, straining with his legs out straight, his toes curled up in his shoes, gasping erratically to match a look verging on pain.
“Uh…. Uhhh…. Go more on the end, Peter.”
Lord Days waited for ‘please.’ Only then, with his boy teetering on the edge, did he torment the bulging bulb. With consummate skill and a connoisseur’s hand, he pinched and rubbed the small purple dome with his thumb and forefinger until Julian jerked his hips and arched up, his lithe legs shaking as he tried to force out invisible seed.
“Ohhhhh! Ahhhhhh! Ngggggg!”
Unable to control himself, his narrow hips thrust urgently, grunting out each excruciating dry pulse. When the throbbing ended, Julian slumped back, gasps and giggles intermingled.
“Was that acceptable, my prince?”
“Makes me go ga-ga when you do me knob like that.” He couldn’t stop giggling. “Pretty wanky job otherwise.”
“Bollocks! You liked it.”
“Might’ve,” Julian teased. He examined the rounded head, still engorged with the protective skin pulled all the way back. “Like a little mouth, it is. See!” He grinned, squeezing the minuscule slit with his fingertips so it opened and closed. “’e says fank you, Peter.”
“Sexy boy! Best put it away for a while. I need to watch what I’m doing,” Lord Days muttered, pulling into the high-speed lane of the M4.
No stranger to the aftereffects of orgasm, Julian carefully poked he reddened plaything behind his equally red underpants. He left open his zipper, too tired to close it. Lord Days absently sniffed his fingers, no more than a suggestion, yet instantly recognizable to his veteran nose. It was an odour unlike any other, the slightly sour smell of an uncircumcised boy. If there was any benefit from a boy having a foreskin, that wasn’t it.
Soon, Heathrow was on the left. The sight of jets on the way to exotic destinations made Lord Days gloomy. Majorca, Bermuda, Bali; all the places he wanted to take Julian, but couldn’t, not without taking his mother too. Not that the three of them travelling together presented a problem, because he’d already taken Julian to the Riviera, Paris, and the Loire Valley. Going anywhere with Julian was always fun, but they had more fun when she wasn’t tagging along. Worse still, with nine days remaining, he knew that he had to share the bad news eventually.
Instead of making idle conversation, he watched Julian from the corner of his eye, only temporarily subdued, tuned to BBC Kids for mile after mile until the English countryside replaced London’s suburbs. While his boy dozed, his mind was in overdrive. Less than an hour ago, he’d finished a meeting with Sir Robert Davies, the Lord High Chancellor, Keeper of the Great Seal, member of the Privy Council, and of the Cabinet. He was also Eric’s privileged father. The offer was unexpected—Ambassador to the Republic of Croatia, to be in residence by the following Friday—and Lord Days’ decision, accordingly very rushed, had to be delivered that weekend. It was his most difficult decision.
Lord Days braked hard behind a truck, then finding an opening in the rush of vehicles, sprinted into the sweeping interchange. The Aston Martin departed with a squeal of rubber and its characteristic howl, unsettling a middle-aged woman driver in a Fiat, but giving her twelve-year-old passenger yet another erection. Ahead, an open lane beckoned all the way to Birmingham.
“We’re on the M6,” Julian yawned, observing a sign rush by as he rubbed his eyes.
Lord Days chuckled. “You’ve been asleep for three hours, my boy. We passed the Lancaster turnoff a few minutes ago.”
Julian craned his neck to see the speedometer. “One ‘undred and twenty,” he approved. “We goin’ to do it right off?”
“You know. You goin’ to bum me, or wait till later?”
“I haven’t decided. Heads or tails?”
“Tails, of course,” Julian snickered.
He always chose tails when it came to flipping a coin for his bottom, but there wasn’t a coin to be found in the Aston. After a while, he stretched his legs wide until they splayed like a frog on the dissection table. He smirked at his biggest fan, unashamed and reckless, everything a boy should be if he wanted to live life to the fullest. His stomach gurgled.
“Are you hungry?” Lord Days enquired.
“Rather. You know what I’m really ‘ungry for?”
Lord Days pretended to ponder. “You’ve a craving for fish and chips?”
“Fink of somethin’ with lots of sauce, Peter.”
The treble’s excitement was barely suppressed, enough lust at nine to make a man swear off women.
“Cornish pasty?” Lord Days teased.
“Silly bugger! Not even ‘alf close.” Julian licked his lips.
“I give up.”
“I was finking of….” Julian leaned across and casually dropped his hand onto Lord Days’ crotch. “Willy.”
Lord Days laughed. “You’re insatiable!” Long ago, he’d concluded that they included the word in the dictionary to describe Julian.
“What’s that mean?”
“You can’t get enough cock.”
“So it means I like suckin’ ‘im, or I like you stickin’ ‘im up me bum?”
Lord Days tousled his hair. “Either way works for my favourite boy.”
“And what exactly do you have in mind to relieve your hunger?”
Julian opened his mouth, his lips pushing out a chorister’s ‘doh’ before he giggled.
“Shouldn’t if you’re going to sing on Monday. Don’t want to damage your vocal chords with my big ugly thing.”
“’e ain’t near that big,” Julian chortled.
He massaged the fleshy mound, easily determining what was what. He still didn’t understand the attraction, but since Lord Days befriended him, he’d learned to love what men and boys had in common.
Lord Days laughed. “Quite big enough for your beautiful little bum, my dear.”
“’e fits like we was made for each other,” Julian said, shrewdly not adding that his mother had said that. He glared at the thick banks of clouds looming over the Lakes District. “It’s rainin’ ahead, Peter.”
“The BBC said we might get some sunshine if we’re lucky.”
Rain was predicted all weekend, not the daily deluges typical of Spring, but endless drizzle.
“Mum said we ought to go to Derwent instead,” Julian said, giving the head a playful tweak and wondering if it was worth being persistent.
He loved Derwent Hall, exploring the 13th century fortified house with his mentor, not quite a medieval castle because it didn’t have crenellated towers. However, it did have a tithe barn, a moat with 26 ducks, and a gatehouse with a rusty portcullis that supposedly worked. Derwent Hall also had six shiny suits of armour from the War of the Roses, two score of stuffed African animals shot by Lord Days’ great grandfather, a voluminous library with a not-so-secret passage to the pantry, and ancient wood floors creaking with every step. The only problem was there was no privacy, not even rambling across the vast Capability Brown estate. The National Trust saw to that.
Only in the Adam addition did the public not venture. Life went on in the west wing of the house just as it had two hundred years earlier—they played American poker in the blue and white drawing room in front of a crackling wood fire, and an antediluvian butler brought them tea and cakes on a huge silver platter. By design or good fortune, no one disturbed them in Lord Days’ bed chamber, not even the maid. There, in the safety of night with the only light from flickering candles, they washed each other with lukewarm water from a flowery porcelain basin of the Victorian era, before tumbling wet and naked onto towels carefully spread over the brocaded cover of the canopied bed. Six hundred years old, and used to much heavier loads, but its oak frame complained when man and boy rutted.
“More fun with just the two of us,” Lord Days said.
Julian grinned back at him. He knew what ‘just the two of us’ meant—plenty of what Peter called ‘making love.’ His mum called it ‘being naughty,’ as if there was something wrong with Lord Days bumming him, but she never said that he shouldn’t.
He groped the growing protuberance. It both amused and amazed him that it always stiffened whenever he touched it, like a dog trained to respond only to him. He concentrated on the head for good reason, fingers and thumb squeezing precisely. It was fun making a man lose control, seeing his seed squirt out. It had a texture resembling runny eggs, not something that he liked, but from the outset, Lord Days insisted he swallow. He’d quickly become fond of the taste, bland and slimy, definitely not runny eggs.
Suddenly, he couldn’t help licking his lips. “Can I take ‘im out, Peter?”
“If you do, you’ll start something you can’t finish without making a mess,” Lord Days warned. “Let’s save it for later.”
“So you can make a mess in me bum!” Julian scowled good-naturedly. Then, he smiled. “Promise?”
“Indubitably, my dear. Just wait till we get there.”
“As many times as I want?” he demanded.
“Within reason. I want to get some hiking in,” Lord Days replied. Julian gave a departing squeeze, still up to mischief given his giggle. “You’re oversexed, you are.”
“That’s what Mum said about you this morning.”
Julian nodded gleefully. “She did! We was watching the telly before you came down to breakfast, and one of them ads came on; you know for them pills what men use when they can’t get it up; and she asked if you used them.”
“And what did you tell her?” Lord Days asked guardedly.
“I told ‘er men don’t need no ‘elp if they do boys. That’s when she said you’re oversexed.” Julian snorted with giggles. He clung to his seat when the Aston veered sharply, leaving the motorway for the road to Keswick as the drizzle began.
“Do you have a reservation for Days?” Lord Days enquired, ignoring the giggle lurking behind him.
“How many days?”
“Two nights, for Lord Days.”
“My apologies, sir,” the woman replied, with the tone of people intimidated by titles.
Julian’s mother was the same way, so awed by a lord of the realm that she turned a blind eye when he made love to her son.
He gave a slight nod. “It’s a room with two double beds?” he added, turning to glare at Julian whose infectious giggles were getting louder. He had one thing on his mind, and it wasn’t hiking.
She consulted a thick reservation book, hand-tooled brown leather cover and dog-chewed corners.
“You’re down for Wordsworth,” she declared as if the room was reserved for visiting royalty. “It’s the honeymoon suite. Your assistant, Miss Summer it was, said you wanted the best view of the lake, a fireplace, and a king-size. And she ordered the romantic package for you. Champagne and chocolates.”
Lord Days scowled at Julian, now tugging on his arm. “Unfortunately, she didn’t realize I’d have the lad with me, instead of my fiancée,” he lied.
“I’m afraid we don’t have any rooms left with two beds.”
“It’s not a problem, Da. I’ll sleep on the floor if I get the chocolates,” Julian interjected, grinning impudently.
“You won’t need to do that, son.” Lord Days said, pretending to frown.
He’d planned it this way, but the thought of having Julian as his son always sent a shiver through him. He turned to the woman at the counter.
“There’s a couch?”
“Just two chairs, I’m afraid. It’s a very big bed so there’s no room for a cot.”
“Is it quiet?” he asked guardedly. “Some of the hikers can be noisy. I don’t want to be kept awake all night.”
“It’s our most private room, Sir. Miss Summer insisted that you not be disturbed.”
“That sounds like something she’d say,” Lord Days agreed.
He took the key, all but smirking when he caught his catamite staring at the telltale crease in his Saville Row trousers. Julian grinned back, wondering whether Lord Days would even take off his clothes.
“Do you have recommendations for dinner?” Lord Days asked, still undecided, yet reluctant to drive all the way back to Keswick for something to eat.
“The hotel has an excellent restaurant. We serve four main courses so we can specialize in local foods. Our slow-roasted minted lamb is very tasty. I’m sure your son will love our toffee sponge pudding. Such a good looking lad, he is, and so well behaved,” she added, smiling at Julian.
“Sounds super, but I was thinking of something less formal for tonight. I’d like go for a hike right away. Take advantage of the weather while we can.”
“There’s the Hare and Thistle next door. It’s casual and the food is very good. And you can take your dog,” she added, finally noticing the English spaniel sniffing Julian’s crotch.
“You said we’d do it right off,” Julian complained when Lord Days ushered him through the hotel lobby and into the parking lot.
“It was you who said that. I said I hadn’t decided.”
“You promised. As many times as I want.”
“That I did, but after I’m done with your bum, you won’t feel much like hiking, or anything else for that matter. Besides, we’ll have more time after dinner, all night if you want. Let’s work up an appetite,” Lord Days suggested,
“Right after dinner then?”
“As soon as we get back to the room. Hiking boots and jacket,” he added, opening the Aston’s trunk.
“Rather be takin’ me clothes off, Peter,” Julian grumbled, stooping to take off his shoes.
Lord Days looked around guardedly before he affectionately patted his boy’s little bum, making sure his fingers felt boy-crack.
“Stop it!” Julian grinned. “Three times, Peter.”
“Three it is. Which way, my sex-starved boy?”
Julian finished his shoelaces and stood up. “You pick. Any way feels nice in me bum.”
“I meant which way will we walk.”
Julian grinned and pointed to the bubbling brook.
“A good choice. ‘Through rocky passes, among flowery creeks, And tracks thee dancing down thy water-breaks,’” Lord Days quoted. He bent to unfasten the dog’s leash. “Off you go, Lizzy.”
A bemused Julian sprint after her.
“Tis a pity Wordsworth didn’t have the company of a beautiful boy,” he chuckled to himself.
A muddy track followed the river, winding back and forth, or rushing headlong between ancient stone walls, crossing fields dotted with Herdwick sheep, their spring lambs bleating petulantly. The people who passed them would have thought they were father and son out for a stroll, walking hand in hand once Julian grew tired of chasing the dog. Finally, they turned away from the stream, heading into the coarse grass fells, towards a distant rocky crag shrouded in mist, pursuing a spaniel that was intent on getting lost. She hunted for rabbits, but stopped to smell every pile of sheep droppings. Finally, even the clanking of the brass ring on her collar ended.
“She went that way.” Julian was certain, pointing at a stone wall that ran from the brook straight up the hill until, for no apparent reason, it suddenly turned at right angles.
“The last time I saw her she was over there,” Lord Days said pointing in the opposite direction. “I doubt she could get over the wall. Still, you never know with that dog. She might have found a way through. You’d better make sure. I’ll look this way.”
Julian headed up the hill as the drizzle returned. He was grateful for his anorak (waterproof jacket) and the ungainly hiking boots that replaced his school shoes, dumped in the boot of the Aston along with his Westminster jacket. Thorny thistles scraped at his bare legs until he wished he’d worn jeans. He picked his way among them, diverting around the worst patches. There was no sign of Lizzie even when he was abreast of the wall. The wall was a jumble of huge boulders on the bottom, with neatly stacked fist-size stones on top. It was so high that he had to stand on tip toes and crane his neck to look over. What he saw took his breath away.
A man and a boy having sex, there was no doubt about it, but what they were doing was so out of place that it didn’t make sense. The boy was naked, or so close to being naked that it made no difference. He wore an American-style cap and his hiking boots were still on, the laces of the left one undone. His jeans were tangled around the other foot and his shirt was pushed so far up his back that Julian didn’t see it at first. A navy jacket, like Julian’s, lay on the ground. The man’s dungarees were shoved down to his mud-spattered Wellington boots. His back was covered by a thick, gray Cumbrian sweater, leaving only his lily-white bottom and thighs uncovered.
The boy was bent over, gooseflesh pimpling his arms and legs, his loins pale compared to the rest of him. He grasped his shins and looked upside-down along his belly, back at Julian, but if he saw him there was no sign of it. The man crouched behind him, knees bent like a jockey with one hand on the boy’s rain-spotted back to steady him.
“Put ‘im in,” the boy huffed. “’urry up. It’s startin’ to rain again.”
“Should’ve brought some Vaseline. It’s so cold spit’s not enough.” The man spat, rubbing his hand between them. Then, with both hands on the boy’s hips, he brought them together. “That better, Trev?”
“Still too dry. Put on some more.”
Julian groped urgently at his groin, not believing his eyes. He’d seen himself in the mirror with Lord Days hunched over him, both of them trembling because it was exciting to watch a man and boy copulate, but it was never like this, never a deep-down thrill that made him envious. It was enough to make his head spin. When they separated, the man’s willy looked like the handle of a cricket bat, nearly as long as a Harrow, thick and straight, with the sleeve curled back around the knob on the end. It was ruddy, just like Lord Days’ when he was erect.
After the man applied more saliva, they pressed front and rear back together, positioning carefully before the man gave a firm push with his hips. This time the boy seemed to struggle, almost losing his balance.
“Fuck, it ‘urts,” the boy whimpered. “Better use yer finger for a while.”
“Sorry, Trev. I’m nearly in.”
“’Okay then. Just go slow.”
Julian stuck his hand down the front of his shorts, dragging his skimpy underpants out of the way. “Bloody hell,” he whispered hoarsely as the man thrust again.
His young partner gasped, but he also pushed back. Julian grasped hard, needing to pleasure himself, his chubby boyhood impossibly hard. Equally impossible, the other boy had yet to see him peeking over the wall.
“Better now the head’s through,” the man grunted.
The boy groaned. Then, whimpering softly, he squirmed as it slowly went deeper. As soon as they were properly joined, the thrusting started in earnest. The firm pushes needed for penetration became long, slow insertions. Julian watched in awe as the two bodies moved, wishing that Lord Days was with him to see the expression on the boy’s face. He was no longer holding his breath; instead he was very distracted. He looked as if he might actually faint, yet occasionally whispering words of encouragement.
“Gawd, go slow will you… Ah… Don’t jerk… Ahhh. More like that.”
The drizzle dampened Julian‘s hair, but he didn’t dare put on his hood—it was bright red. He breathed deeply, not understanding why his face burned, knowing only that he had to look over the wall, that he had to keep playing with his willy, no matter what.
“Getting slippery now, Trev,” the man mumbled.
Julian’s heart thumped in his chest, his throat parched as he watched it slide smoothly in, pause momentarily, and leisurely draw back. The stretching part was clearly completed, slimy rectal juices already flowing. It was magical; mysterious too, like a rite from prehistoric times; a man and boy mating with mist rising over the mountains, no sound, nothing more than an occasional muted groan.
All of a sudden, the man began to move faster, his hips pummeling, jerking wildly. The boy writhed before him, grunting when their bodies smacked together. Julian trembled; he knew what the other boy felt, although he’d never done it standing up, and never as hard as that. His fingers alternated between squeezing and rubbing, but it wasn’t enough. He ached deep inside.
The boy whimpered loudly when the man withdrew. Now, it was darker, even bigger than before, and the veins bulged obscenely—it looked like a Celt’s knotty cudgel. The man hurriedly slathered on more saliva. No hesitation this time, no poking or prodding, just a single hard thrust before it disappeared from sight again. Back and forth, all the way in, nearly all the way out, pumping purposefully like a steam-engine at the Kew Bridge Museum, its power no longer held back. No boy was bold after treatment like that—it didn’t matter if he was eight or eighteen.
Suddenly, the boy groaned, “Faster.”
Julian realized what was going to happen. His face burned, his lips parched dry. He churned inside. He mouthed ‘fuck,’ still too young to say it aloud, breathing deeply, no longer disputing whether he wanted to be buggered aggressively, instead of the slow, gentle sex he was used to. It was enough that the other boy did. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Lord Days hugged him from behind, an arm wrapped tightly against his chest, whispering for him to be quiet as he pulled Julian’s hand away and clutched the boy’s clammy crotch, kneading tiny male parts.
“Dirty sod. ‘e’s friggin’ ‘im silly,” Julian whispered nervously, sweating despite the rain beading on his face, Lizzie sniffing his boots, her damp straggly tail swatting his legs.
“Seems to be enjoying it though.”
Julian was enjoying it too, his penis throbbing, impossibly hard. Lord Days skinned it, squashing the fleshy knob between his thumb and first finger, his other fingers scooping up boy-balls, feeling eggs and tiny tubes under wrinkled hot skin.
“Why don’t we do it ‘ard?”
For good reason, Lord Days had always been careful with Julian, never fast jarring strokes like those on the other side of the wall.
“You want to do it like that?” he croaked, possessively cupping his boy’s private parts.
“Might be fun,” Julian murmured, not at all certain, yet very envious of the other boy’s euphoric ride.
He raised his head above the stones just in time to see the boy’s mouth contort as if he was going to scream. Instead, he shuddered, so overcome by ecstasy that he shoved himself back, straining as hard as he could. The man’s bottom clenched repeatedly, muscles bulging in his hairy thighs as the boy bucked and twisted, but still not dislodging it. After a few frantic moments, the boy’s frenzy passed and the man stopped thrusting. He levered him away, making a sound like a farmer’s boot pulled out of mud. Immediately, the boy groaned, sagging on weakened legs, his weight supported by the arm under his belly.
“And you think mine’s big,” Lord Days whispered, both mocking and grudging, still fondling, wondering if Julian was about to orgasm, or maybe he already had—he was trembling.
The man’s massive tool hovered over the lad’s bare back, still fully engorged, its work apparently unfinished. The man gripped it like a club. After a few quick strokes, he stiffened, disgorging his seed in half a dozen copious spurts, more than Julian had ever seen. It squirted over the boy, covering his back with puddles of cream. The final milky dribbles trickled down his bare thighs.
Suddenly, the man glanced sideways. Lord Days had no choice but to let go of his favourite toy as he quickly ducked down, pulling Julian with him. They crouched together, hearts hammering. As luck would have it, there was gap between two boulders, but a spider’s web impeded their view. Lord Days poked it out of the way with a blanched thistle stalk.
Julian peered through the crevice, incredulous as the man smeared it over the boy’s abdomen, from his neck to his bottom, and then rubbing his hand underneath, along the slender brown chest, even reaching down to his crotch. Some had doubtlessly splattered onto the grass, but most of it coated the boy’s naked body like creamy skin lotion. Lord Days had never done that to him, always inside him, meticulously licking up any that managed to escape, as if his seed was too precious to waste.
Disbelief turned to envy as the boy tottered on uncertain feet. He was at least three years older than Julian, noticeably taller and heavier, and much larger in the place where size really counted. Behind his flaccid reproductive organ dangled a pear-shaped pouch, very unlike Julian’s crinkled bump. Without warning, the boy glanced at the wall. Then, he grinned, his fingers wiping wet streaks over his breast, massaging it in.
“We’d best go before they see us,” Lord Days whispered, nudging Julian out of his trance.
Taking Julian’s hand, he scurried away, keeping low. Farther down the hill, they waited for the dog to catch up. The thistles hid her until the very last moment when she bounded out to greet them. However, Lizzie was ignored. So was the drizzle. Man and boy faced each other, still holding hands.
“’e spunked up all over ‘is back, ‘e did,” Julian muttered when he got his breath back.
Lord Days chuckled. “Bit messy if you ask me.”
“You fink?” Julian tittered nervously. “I wouldn’t mind if you did it to me.”
Lord Days barely heard him as he looked around, sidetracked by lust—there was no other word to describe what he felt. The thistles weren’t tall enough to hide them unless they lay down, but there was a copse of trees near the brook. He pulled Julian after him. They scrambled down the bank, ducking low branches, avoiding blackberry thorns. Immediately, instinct took over. Julian perched on a boulder, stretched up on tiptoes, his arms locking around Lord Day’s neck. He pulled their heads together, his eyes dreamily closed, his lips pursed in greedy anticipation.
They kissed, nibbling lips, touching the tips of their tongues, pressing front to front, rubbing man and boy parts through four layers of cloth. Then, Lord Days cupped his boy’s bottom and scooped him off the rock. With Julian’s legs clamped around his middle, they kissed deeply, exploring before the thrust and parry began, finally fencing with wet slippery tongues. Julian was surprisingly good at it, no longer thinking about what he was doing. Entirely shameless, he slid his hand between them and tried to worm his fingers under Lord Days’ belt, heading for where his trousers bulged in front.
“’ow about you do me bum now?” he panted, using all of his boyish charm to get what he wanted.
Lord Days was tempted. He glanced over Julian’s shoulder. No sign of the man and boy they’d watched on the hill; no one would see them; no one went walking in such miserable weather. Mindless passion took over as Julian sucked on his tongue. It was dim-witted even to consider it, but he did—no need to undress, just pull down the rear of Julian’s pants and open his fly. He wouldn’t need to get in very far, just a couple of inches, a quick one to let off steam. They could do it properly back in the room.
They French-kissed repeatedly, their tongues more insistent than ever, ignoring the drizzle as it turned to rain once again. Only when Lord Days licked droplets from Julian’s face did he realize the trees afforded no protection at all.
He stroked Julian’s cheek and sighed. “Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?”
“Least once a day.” Julian sounded bored, but he groped firmly, not easily denied. “Your willy wants to be mates wiv me bum,” he purred.
“We don’t have anything to make you slippery.”
“Spit, like they done it wiv?”
“You’re too small, my dear.” He brushed back the boy’s unruly hair, noting the mischievous look in his eyes. “Out with it.” Julian giggled, making the familiar ‘o’ with his lips. Lord Days chuckled. “I’ve created a monster. Okay, sexy boy. Down you go.”
Julian eased lower until his knees reached the ground. He looked up briefly, his bright eyes flickering, craving what all gay boys desired, even if he was too young to realize it. He circled his tongue around his lips to prepare.
“Best do it before we get soaked,” Lord Days muttered.
Julian brashly pushed Lord Day’s jacket out of the way. Both hands covered the hump in his trousers, nimble fingers massaging. It was already hard. Quickly, he tugged on the zipper, parting the sides of Lord Day’s trousers far enough to expose distended black briefs underneath. He petted it like he petted the dog, scratching roughly under her ears.
“You’ve got a banana stuck in your undies,” Julian teased, already salivating.
His hands trembled when he peeled off the silky layer, dragging Lord Days’ Italian briefs down, hooking them under his big hair-covered pouch to keep them out of the way.
“’e looks like a plum, or a little cricket ball’s got stuck on the end,” he chortled, turning it one way, then the other.
It was properly circumcised, the skin stretched so tightly that Julian was unable to move it very far. It throbbed with every playful caress, standing straight out and bobbing against his forehead, excreting ooze into his tangled damp locks.
“’e won’t take long, not when ‘e’s this stiff,” Julian teased, levering it lower to rub it against his cheek while his heart hammered wildly.
It wasn’t like his delicate, pale pink plaything; it was daunting with its dark bulging veins—man and boy, both male, yet so very different. More than size, or the close-cropped hair around the base, it exuded power in a way that his didn’t. Still, it felt natural for him to hold it; he always got an unsettling shiver when he had both hands wrapped around it.
He leaned in to nuzzle when the slimy crown brushed his nose, and then he smooched along the shaft until bristles scrapped his cheek. Then, with butterflies in his tummy, he went back the way he’d just come, nibbling the blistering skin, feeling a weird yet well-known thrill when he kissed right on the tip and tasted a dewdrop. It drew him like a bee to nectar, and he cleverly used his hand to get more, never realizing that the head and his lips were an identical color.
For a moment, he wondered if the boy on the hill did the same thing. Then, looking coyly up at Lord Days, he licked repeatedly right on the end, one hand toying with the packed purse below.
“Don’t forget you’re singing with Eric on Monday,” Lord Days rasped.
Julian opened wide, his mouth quite small yet effortlessly sliding his lips over the slick head. Like a doorknob, it made his cheeks bulge. He popped it out quickly, took a deep breath, and latched onto it like a hungry baby. His mind whirled as he used his tongue, squirming the tip like a corkscrew to get into the slit. All he could think of was the boy on the hill, bent over and looking back at him upside down, the man pumping fiercely, grunting as he shoved up against him.
By then, the taste had disappeared, but it only encouraged Julian to suck harder. He had a funny trembling feeling all over. He was aware of Lord Day’s fingers fondling his ears, stroking his nearly soaked hair, something being pulled over his head. Lord Days’ jacket surrounded him with eerie green light, chilly rain no longer dripping on his face. Sucking with his lips stretched wide, he was as happy as a queer boy could be. He lived to slurp up and down Lord Day’s massive erection, using his tongue assertively, eagerly licking up excretion, trembling when the broadly flared rim breached his teeth. He went farther each time he bobbed his head, his gag reflex checked by plenty of practice, gradually forcing it back to his throat. With some difficulty, he breathed through his nose, his eyes tightly closed, his thoughts flitting from what he was doing and Lord Days’ satisfied sighs, to the boy on the hill.
“Not too far, sweetie.”
The thing in his mouth so overwhelmed him that he didn’t hear. It was inevitable really, like nature had planned it for boys like him to be content; but this time the urge to worship at the feet of his man was stronger than ever. Sexed up years before most boys realized what real pleasure was, his desire overwhelmed him, enough that his bottom felt itchy, but it did that just from kissing. It was the persistent ache farther in that made him quiver.
A wet nose bumped his leg. He pushed the spaniel away, but it kept coming back, sniffing, collar clanking like a cow bell, poking its snout into his thigh as he sucked ever harder.
“That’s my boy,” Lord Days muttered. “I ought to take that brass ring off Lizzie’s collar….”
He’d trained his boy to want more than mating. He used Julian’s mouth over and over until shameless enthusiasm replaced bodily qualms, and then they’d practiced to build up his skill. It still hurt his throat if they did it too much with it all the way in, so Julian worked on the first couple of inches as if his life depended on it. Then, just as his neck became tired, the thrusting began.
At first, Lord Days barely moved, just enough to exert his masculine role. Julian slobbered over his tool, encouraging him, every bit as aroused as his master. One hand held his head firmly in place, fingers entwined in his hair, a thumb stroking his ear. The other hand rested on his shoulder, keeping him steady as the thrusts became stronger. Soon, it was all he could do not to choke from the urgent stabbing. When the burst ended, Julian lifted away, a silvery thread connecting them. He licked it from his lips and resumed what he’d been doing, licking and sucking and more excited than he could remember, yet still disbelieving what he’d witnessed minutes earlier.
He cupped the huge ball of wrinkled thick skin, rubbing and tugging, so unlike his immature lump. Each egg seemed as big his fist, together filling both of his hands. He was still a little dubious that babies really came from inside them, yet the possibility enthralled him every time that Lord Days’ semen spurted out. He squeezed one, then the other, not realizing that he was strong enough to hurt. Then, closing his eyes, he opened wide, aligned his head and neck, and just once, dared to go all the way down to the root.
“I’m going to spunk any second,” Lord Days said distantly.
His warning went unheeded, also not needed because Julian could feel the increasing stiffness for himself, swelling up in his mouth, the ejaculation about to begin, throbbing like his own untouched part. He groped himself through his shorts and bobbed up and down as fast as he could go. Suddenly, Lord Days strained forward, gripping his head with both hands.
“Yesssss,” he hissed.
Julian gasped when he could, his lips dribbling saliva, feeling the same deep-down thrill that he’d felt every night of the last seven months of his life. He sucked while his lips gnawed on the rim. His cheeks caved in, his tongue rubbing frantically in the tender spot underneath, his fingers fluttering on the rest. Lord Days groaned and jabbed deeper before quickly withdrawing. With the first spurt, Julian jerked back, shuddering spontaneously. He clamped the shaft tightly to stem the flow, and gulped it down like a hot slimy oyster, sucking urgently even as he convulsed fiercely. The next gush escaped through his fingers and splattered gobs over his face, a few stray droplets making polka-dots on his red anorak. He opened wide and the next five squirts, which were far more than usual, filled his mouth. Finally, it twitched as if dying, the last of it dribbling out. Their trembles continued long after Lord Days’ orgasm ended, slowly fading together.
Julian pulled away and looked up for approval, blinking, milky globs on his chin, smears everywhere. Then, he swallowed, getting all of it down this throat before his tongue swiped his lips.
“That’s my boy.”
“Nasty stuff, that is,” Julian responded, but he also grinned back.
Guiltily, Lord Days hoisted him up from the ground, panting and weak from the effort, hazel eyes glazed in the aftermath. He clutched the wobbly small body to his, one hand covering his bottom, the other stroking curls of damp hair from Julian’s shamefully soiled face. He tasted himself when Julian’s tongue pushed into his mouth and danced between his lips—first, a long, hard kiss, then, tender pecks, followed by wet, sloppy smooches almost better than sex.
“Let me do you, sweetheart,” Lord Days muttered.
Julian was perfectly happy with Lord Days fondling his bottom. “Barely touched it and I done it,” he panted.
Lord Days cocked an eyebrow. “You did?”
Julian nodded and licked Lord Days right on the nose. “Couldn’t stop shaking, could I?”
“Sexy boy. That was the best one ever,” Lord Days admitted. He hugged his boy tightly. “Right on the money.”
“You spunked lots more than normal, Peter. Should’ve bummed me.”
He patted Julian’s bottom consolingly before rudely slipping his hand into the loose leg of his shorts, along a slim muscular thigh, finally worming his fingers under Julian’s miniscule briefs. Then, he pressed his fingers into the crevice and poked in the vicinity of the hot little hole. Julian wriggled back, and with surprising ease, got one finger inserted.
“I’ll take care of this after dinner.”
Julian smirked, squeezing down and forcing Lord Days’ finger at least an inch deeper. “Promise?”
“As much as you want.” He gave the tender hole a playful poke. “We ought to head back before we get soaked.”
They started back, walking quickly, again hand in hand, the spaniel bouncing around them, barking as if she couldn’t wait to tell other dogs what she’d witnessed.
“Did you see the size of that boy’s willy?” Julian asked when they stopped to open a gate.
Lord Days detected envy, not surprising considering Julian’s age and much smaller size. “He’s a lot older than you. Anyway, I’d much rather have yours. Short and thick, that’s my favourite kind.”
Julian licked his lips, but the taste had gone. “’e ‘ad a whopper, that man did.”
He’d heard his mum joke with one of her girlfriends at the Frog and Threepence. She’d said that bigger was better. It made sense that size was important for boys too, although Lord Days said otherwise.
“Something that big has to hurt like the devil.”
“Ow! Would it ever,” Julian laughed. “You fink the boy spunked up, then?”
“Hard to tell. He’s got big balls.”
“I didn’t see nuffin’ come out.”
“Either we missed it and he shaves down there, or he’s still having dry ones like you.”
“You fink they seen us, Peter?”
Lord Days shrugged. “Might’ve I suppose. I’m not worried. We won’t see them again.”
Hikers crowded the Hare and Thistle, standing two deep at the bar, but as soon as they entered, Lord Days saw a couple get up from a table in the corner overlooking the river. They’d gone only a few steps before he hastened over to claim it.
“Not exactly what I had in mind, but the view is spectacular,” he said when Julian sat down in front of the window.
Julian looked around, not realizing that he was the ‘view.’ The Hare and Thistle reminded him of the library at Derwent Hall—dark, burled walnut walls, a coffered ceiling stained yellow by smoke, and hunting scenes set in elaborate gold frames. Then, his belly rumbled.
“I’m starvin’, Peter,” he declared.
Lord Days smirked, enraptured by the precocious boy.”What about the sausage you ate earlier?”
“Real food, silly.”
“I thought you were in the mood...” He winked at the boy. “I know I am.”
“You’re always in the mood. You’ll have to wait till we’ve ‘ad dinner. I want dessert too, Peter. It’s the least you can do if you want me to be naughty,” he sniggered. “And a cider,” he added, licking his lascivious lips.
“What would your mum say?”
Julian shrugged coolly. “Dunno, but she won’t know nuffin’ ‘less you tell her.”
“How about a lemon squash now, and if you’re good, you can have a glass of champagne in the room.”
Suddenly, Julian’s eyes shifted sideways, then, back again. After a moment, he glanced over Lord Days’ shoulder. He leaned closer to be heard over the din.
“Don’t look! It’s them,” he whispered.
Lord Days turned instinctively, but he stopped just in time. Julian smirked and hid his face behind the single-page menu, deliberately avoiding looking up.
“’e’s looking right at me. Don’t look,” Julian muttered.
“Who’s looking at you?”
Julian stole another glance and giggled. “’e’s smiling at me, ‘e is.”
“Who is?” demanded an exasperated Lord Days.
“You know…” His eyes darted away. “Them. From the ‘ill…”
“They’re here?” Lord Days asked cautiously.
Julian nodded, his eyes flitting back and forth. “Peter, ’e’s comin’ this way.”
It took a few seconds for the words to sink into Lord Days’ lust-befuddled mind. By then, a boy stood next to the table, smirking down.
“Me uncle and me, we was wonderin’?” he asked, his voice crackling, nervously shifting his stance.
Julian giggled and kept his head down. Lord Days gave the boy a guarded look, who all of a sudden snatched off his cap, squatted next to the spaniel, and patted her back.
“I like yer dog,” he said, sounding rather embarrassed.
“’er name’s Lizzie,” Julian squeaked.
After a moment, the boy looked up and grinned grownup white teeth. “I seen you watchin’ us,” he whispered, fixing his sombre brown eyes on Julian, who immediately looked away. “Cat got yer tongue?” he added, rubbing behind the spaniel’s ears
Julian giggled and glanced sideways, looking for the cavalry. “Maybe,” he muttered
“You got an eyeful, I reckon.”
“I think you’re confusing us with someone else,” Lord Days interjected.
“Don’t ya know it’s rude to perv on people,” the boy sneered.
Julian finally dared to make eye contact again. At the same time, the boy grinned and waved. A man who looked like a farmer backed away from the bar, weaving among the tables, coming towards them.
“Seein’ as we watched you by the creek, I reckon it’s fair,” he added to Julian. “Right hot, a kid yer age doing it.”
“Doin’ what?” Julian asked nervously.
“Havin’ a pash, you was, before you got somethin’ tasty in yer gob,” the boy said, smirking at Lord Days.
Lost for words, Julian gawked back.
“So me uncle and me, we was wonderin’, you know, if you and him’s chums?”
“Chums? I’m not sure what you mean?” Lord Days swallowed.
A moment later, the man loomed over the boy. “You mind if we share your table, guv? The lad’s buggered and I’m done in myself.”
For a moment, Lord Days’ dour expression resembled a Buckingham Palace guard. “Been hiking eh?” he replied with a charitable gesture, hoping that he hadn’t been recognized.
“Trompin’ the fells till the rain started. I’m Pat,” the man added, extending a hand as he sat, grinning. “That’s Trevor down there with your dog.”
“Peter,” Lord Days replied uncomfortably as they shook. “And Julian.”
Trevor got to his feet and took the remaining seat. For a minute, both boys were tongue-tied, lots of shy peeking at each other while the men mumbled inanities about the miserable weather.
“You live ‘round here?” Trevor finally asked. He had Saxon eyes, hair like bristly brown carpet, and an oversized Mick Jagger mouth.
“We’re from London,” Julian said, glancing anxiously at Lord Days.
“Me too. Uncle Pat lives up here, lucky sod. He yer dad, then?” Julian shook his head. “But he’s yer friend, right?” Trevor had a toothy grin.
Julian was worldly enough to realize that ‘friend’ said like that meant more than ‘friend.’ He looked to Lord Days for reassurance.
Enough of the puzzle had slotted together for Lord Days to give a nod of approval.
“Me mum’s ‘is secretary,” Julian mumbled.
“How long you known him then?”
“Um, ‘bout seven months,” Julian replied, still unaware of language complexities. Still, he wondered why Trevor smirked when it wasn’t funny at all.
“You look about nine, am I right?” Pat asked.
“I’m nine and a half,” Julian rebuked, sitting up straight.
“You had fun when you got back, I bet?” Trevor demanded.
“A hot shower for me and the telly for him. How about you?” Lord Days said, trying to appear casual.
“A cup of tea in front of the fire,” Pat replied. “I don’t mind a walk in the drizzle, but you’ll likely find him wanking at the first sign of rain.” He gave Trevor a playful shove. “I must say, you can certainly pick them, Trev,” he said, blatantly examining the younger boy.
“Told you he was worth a squirt, didn’t I?” Trevor said, his smirk still directed at Julian.
“He’s first-rate , alright,” Pat said, his gaze seeming stuck on Julian. Finally, he glanced at Lord Days. “A bit young for it, though.”
“I didn’t realize age was a problem in hiking,” Lord Days replied, remarkably straight-faced.
Pat chuckled, fixing his gaze on Julian again. “Don’t get me wrong, Guv. Trev and I have been tramping the hills for a couple of years now. Started him hiking about the same age as your lad, I did.”
It seemed that neither of the boys got it, but Lord Days smiled. “I’ve always believed the younger they start, the more they enjoy it.”
“My thoughts exactly. There’s nothing as enjoyable as a well trodden path,” Pat agreed.
“So long as it’s yours.”
“Rather. How about our lads order dinner at the bar? Trev, I’ll have a pint of bitter and the mixed grill.”
He dug in his wallet for a twenty pound note while Lord Days did the same.
Julian bounced up, grabbing the money. “Cider and fish and chips? No mushy peas.”
Lord Days met his grin with a nod and a smile. Pat’s eyes finally abandoned Julian as the boys darted away chattering about what they were going to order for themselves.
“He’s your nephew?” Lord Days enquired enviously.
Pat nodded. “His mum remarried four years ago. He’s a nice guy, but Trev has problems with him. His mum thinks it best if he’s out of the way every so often.”
“It looks like they’ve formed a queue of their own,” Lord Days observed, his eyes seldom off Julian for very long.
Pat turned to look at the boys, Julian already talking with the barmaid at the end of the counter. “I’m not surprised. It’s easy to push in when a lad’s that cute.”
“Easy to push in, hard to pull out.”
Pat laughed. “Too true, but that wasn’t what I intended. You do it, right?”
“Might. Whatever ‘it’ is?”
“No need to pretend among friends. How did Trev put it? ‘Sopping wet sausage, and it ain’t from the rain.’” He added a leer.
Lord Days chuckled. “I don’t know how you managed it with just spit.”
“Use lots and it’s not half bad.” Pat lowered his head. “You need to be careful putting it in.”
“It’s slippery enough?”
“Spit’s okay once they’re stretched; if you’re not in there too long.”
“Even with your size?”
“He’s used to it; never complains more than a minute.” Pat glanced about. “How old was he when you started?”
“Just turned nine,” Lord Days confided.
“Lucky devil. You got him at the perfect time.”
“Because he was potty trained?”
“There’s something to be said for that.” Pat chuckled. “At nine, his muscles aren’t that strong, plus the young ones are game to try it in the bum.”
“You make *it* sound like child’s play.”
Pat glanced around. “Easier than anyone here would believe.”
Lord Days smiled just a little. “A dab of grease, a good push, and voilà.”
It hadn’t been quite that easy with Julian, but it hadn’t been difficult either.
“Bet you worried about him being too tight. You did, didn’t you?”
“I expect boys are the reason why they say patience is a virtue.”
Patience was the key to Julian’s virtue. The successful deflowering began as a game played in front of the telly, an hour a night for two weeks. Cuddling on the couch, they watched Doctor Who reruns, with nothing on under the eiderdown. Front to back like mismatched spoons in a drawer, he always had one arm locked around his boy’s skinny waist, keeping him in place. It was too soon for penetration, but he kept his knob pressed against Julian’s portal, occasionally testing the rim.
“Best thing you can do is make him wait till he’s ready.”
“The little bugger wanted to try it even more than I did,” Lord Days reminisced fondly.
“Better a man who knows what to do than a couple of Public School boys bumming each other by trial and error,” Pat chuckled. “That’s how I learned.”
“It sounds like you’ve had lots of experience?”
“I worked in Thailand for five years. Thai boys will do it for sixpence. So are you a regular or a once-a-month?”
“Regular. Rather a lot, I’m afraid.”
Pat laughed. “I thought so. Pretty boys, they’re mostly that way. I’ve never met one who wasn’t a pansy.”
“He hides it rather well, don’t you think?”
Pat guffawed. “You ought to try him with spit. I wager he’ll like slick more than greasy after a couple of minutes.”
Lord Days looked sheepish, realizing that he’d said far more than he should have. “Back to your story.”
“The first time was when Trev came up for the summer. His mum knew I was fond of him; we’ve always been rather close; but what she didn’t know was I was head over heels for him since he was a toddler.”
“He was nine the first time?”
“He still knew what he wanted. The first night he took off his clothes and got into my bed.”
Lord Days kept one eye on the boys. “That does sound like fun.”
“A bit of a cuddle was all. Good clean fun for a couple of days, but once he learned I wouldn’t say no, it was all downhill.”
“There’s a lot more romance in fiction.”
Pat smiled. “Our tickling got a bit rude at times.” He lowered his voice. “One night we were wrestling in bed and he started playing around. Before I could stop him, he’d gobbled the sausage. A minute later, I’m flat on my back, licking his bum.”
“One thing led to another, and before you knew it, you were hiking,” Lord Days quipped.
“When a boy starts young, it’s mostly a matter of the right stimulation.”
He agreed with a nod. In his experience, the sooner a young boy had anal sex the better. It was older boys who made a big fuss about bending over.
“He’s a randy little bugger. He still calls it ‘doing the dirty.”
“’It’s time to be naughty’ is Julian’s favourite saying,” Lord Days said with a chuckle.
“So he’s not shy about being rooted.. I not surprised. He’s got the look, he has”
Lord Days raised an eyebrow. “He’s into it, but he’s not very romantic.”
“Boys his age never are.”
“He pretends he doesn’t like it.”
“Trev was the same way for a while. He was a different boy by the end of the summer. I should’ve spotted it. When his mum came up to pick him up, we had tea at The Fells; that’s a café in Keswick. As soon as he went off to feed the ducks one last time, she asked if anything intimate had happened between us.”
“Be glad she didn’t ask why he’s walking funny,’” Lord Days joked.
Pat laughed. “I was lucky he didn’t fart during lunch, but it wasn’t that. Most boys turn clingy after they’ve been taking it deep for a while.”
“Julian won’t leave me alone.”
“Wait till he’s ten.”
“It gets worse? He’s already wearing me out.”
“When Trev was ten, I was up his bum so often there wasn’t energy for anything else, other than cuddling, of course.”
“I take it you’re not into tasty delights then?”
Pat smiled. “I’ve had more than my share with him over the years.”
“So what did you say to his mum?”
“If I remember correctly, I said we both liked a hug.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“I could tell she was thinking it was more than a hug, though. When she didn’t say anything, I thought I was safe. Then, right out of the blue, she asked if it was normal for boys to have crushes on men. You could’ve heard a pin drop, only she didn’t sound the least bit upset. Trev was always a bit of a poof so I told her he was probably going through Freud’s latency phase.”
“You sound like a doctor,” Lord Days ventured, picking up clues, but doubtful because of the other man’s clothing.
Pat turned away. When he looked back, he nodded warily. “I’m a GP, actually. You might want to keep me in mind. You never know when you might need a doctor, things you don’t want National Health finding out about. It might be difficult if he needs a check-up for sports,” he said vaguely as he extracted a business card.
“We haven’t had the need so far, but thanks for the offer… Doctor Edersy,” Lord Days read before putting the card in his pocket. “What happened with his mum?”
“She looked me straight in the eye and asked if it meant he was going to be queer. I don’t know what she expected me to say, but I told her he was likely headed that way. Then, when we were leaving, she said Trevor was lucky that I wasn’t married.”
“It sounds as if she knew something was going on.”
“I expect Trev said something he shouldn’t have on one of his phone calls and she’d realized I was up to no good. Apparently, she didn’t mind because she didn’t stop him from visiting me over Christmas. Now, he comes up by train every couple of weeks. All he wants to do is have sex.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“He’s always horny, and he’s still got a year or so before he starts puberty,” Pat joked.
“He’s a big boy.”
“Rather. It runs in the family.” He lowered his head as the boys headed back to the table. “I say, your Julian is an absolute darling,” he confided, staring at Julian. “Italian, is he?”
Julian wore a red and white Formula One jacket, with logos for Ferrari, Pirelli tires, and Fina oil, but more than his clothes, he epitomized classic Venetian beauty; unruly reddish-brown hair, perfect full lips, and sensuous eyes that were the colour of coffee with a hint of jade.
“His dad was a sailor. His mum met him at a bar in Southampton.”
“A night of drunken debauchery?”
“Something like that. They never got married, needless to say.”
“It’s a pity boy marriage isn’t legal.” Pat said it so quietly that Lord Days thought he was mistaken.
“What’s boy marriage?” Julian asked when he sat down.
“A man and a boy could marry if they wanted,” Pat explained, keeping his voice low.
It took a moment to sink in. “Boys can’t marry men. Not even Catholics do that,” Julian giggled. Trevor chortled beside him.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and boy in holy matrimony...” Pat whispered.
He glanced from Julian to Lord Days, and back again. They sat close together, like a loving father and son. When they touched, it was genuinely affectionate.
“It’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” Lord Days remarked, lightly stroking Julian’s hand.
His boy had skinny wrists with almost translucent skin, small hands with long thin fingers, almost too delicate, yet one could sense the wiry strength in those unblemished forearms. With his light almond skin, he’d tan in a day.
“You could share the same bed, no questions asked. Do whatever you wanted in public,” Pat added with a smirk.
Touching a boy like that was risqué, and especially risky when other people could see. Still, he couldn’t stop staring at Julian, who was far more striking than the naked ‘bronze-faced and tow-headed boys’ of his dreams. On the misty fell, a hundred paces away, he’d been awed by the boy’s flawless body. Up close, he was breathtaking.
“Peter says I like ‘iking too much as it is,” Julian sniggered, smirking at Trevor. It was clear who’d figured out what ‘hiking’ really meant.
Pat laughed. “My kind of boy.”
Yet even as the words left his mouth, he couldn’t help thinking that with such an angelic face, Julian would never engage in the sort of things that a man really wanted. But he did; he definitely had the look.
“No such thing as too much hiking, even at your age,” Trevor mocked.
“I’d be hiking day and night if this one had a say in it,” Lord Days chuckled. He tousled Julian’s hair and lowered his voice. “Will you marry me, dear boy?”
“Be super, that would,” Julian said, looking gleefully at Lord Days, shyness abandoned.
Trevor leaned in. “I got a stiffy just thinkin’ about my weddin’ night,” he whispered brazenly.
Pat winked and moved his chair closer. The smile on Trevor’s face was more than enough to know something was going on underneath the hand-hewn oak table.
“Tell us how you met your hiking chum, Peter?”
Lord Days expected the question would come up eventually. Before he could reply Julian chimed in, completely at ease.
“’e placed an advertisement in the Times, ‘e did.”
“You advertised for a boy?” Pat pretended surprise.
“Wanted, sexy little poof. Must be willin’ to push in the truck,” Trevor joked.
Lord Days spluttered, nearly choking on peanuts that the boys had brought back from the bar.
Julian frowned. ‘Poof’ he’d learned from Martin Telford because he called Eric that, but he wasn’t sure what ‘truck’ had to do with it.
“It was an office assistant, ‘e wanted. It didn’t pay near what Mum wanted, but ‘e ‘ad a flat.”
“I needed a live-in because I do a lot of work at home,” Lord Days explained.
“Anyway me mum called ‘im cos she ‘ated ‘er job at the bank. ‘e wanted ‘er to come over right away, but she couldn’t get a sitter, so I went wiv ‘er.”
“Seeing Julian in my parlour was the last thing I expected,” Lord Days added wistfully.
“Love at first sight?” Pat suggested, moving his seat closer to Trevor’s.
“Something like that,” Lord Days added as a shiver went through him. At the time, he’d thought Julian belonged in a Venetian palazzo; he even wore a blue and white-striped gondola shirt. “The interview was almost entirely about him.”
“I can see why,” Pat said approvingly.
He rested one arm over Trevor‘s shoulder, casually rubbing the dyed-punk bristles on the nape of his neck. Trevor leaned against him, pretending to be tired, exchanging lecherous leers with Julian. To anyone else, they were two fathers and their sons waiting for dinner. By the time it arrived, the conversation ad drifted from the dog breeds for hunting to smelly French cheese. From Pat’s sly smiles, Lord Days was certain there were two sets of fingers fondling privates, but the table hid what they were doing. For a moment, he envied them—they actually looked like father and son.
After putting out the ‘do not disturb’ sign to make certain they wouldn’t be disturbed, Lord Days closed and locked the door. Julian dropped his Formula One jacket over the frumpy Victorian chair in the corner, ambled over to the television and turned it on. He switched through the channels.
“Nuffin’ on,” he complained, turning to find that Lord Days was standing right behind him.
“Except your clothes, my dear.”
“On the telly, silly.” Julian laughed and jumped out of reach. He bounced onto the king-size bed before lying back, his arms behind his head. “You take ‘em off, then.”
Lord Days stepped closer. “I thought you were going to give me a strip show.”
Julian sprang off the bed and skipped away. He’d exchanged his damp school clothes for a pale blue tee shirt and jeans when they returned from hiking. Giggling, he slid the tee shirt up, then over his head and off while he danced about like a Chippendiddy. He tossed it across the room and posed, proud of his body, yet scarcely understanding why he wanted Lord Days to look at him.
“You’re beautiful,” Lord Days admired. There was something about a bare-chested boy in blue jeans from Paris that made his heart race.
“You always say it funny, Peter, like I’m a girl or sumfin’.” He shifted from one foot to the other, awkward in the lingering silence, aware of eyes, like butterflies flickering over him.
“I don’t mean to. You’re an exceedingly handsome boy.” Lord Days sounded wistful; he couldn’t help it. He winked lewdly. “And we both know what seeing a handsome boy does to a man who loves boys.”
“Do you fink I’m sexier like this, or…. this?” Julian said teasingly, pushing his jeans down a few inches. His lower belly was a taut, tapering ‘v.’ He looked shamelessly at Lord Days as he lifted his arms over his head, stretching back. His chest was almond pale with pink nipples, each rib sticking out like a malnourished gypsy kid.
“Definitely sexier like that.”
“Perv! Me mum warned me about men like you.”
“Can’t help it, can I? You’re… gorgeous,” Lord Days sighed, still staring. Julian’s belly rippled with juvenile muscle, firm yet soft, a work of art with golden proportions centered on a small belly button. Below his waist, faint blue veins, like a gothic tracery disappeared under his pants
Julian strutted across the room and stopped before the mirror. He flexed his arms and turned around. “You really fink I’m sexy, Peter?” he teased.
“Very sexy, especially when you take your clothes off like that. Do you strip like that in front of Sparey?”
Julian snorted. “Eric does when Fairy’s watchin’. ‘e dances around with ‘is willy ‘anging out. Dirty sod!”
“Really? I can’t imagine why he’d do that!”
“’e wants ‘im to see ‘is willy, of course. You want to see mine, then?”
“Actually, I want to see your red knickers.”
Julian giggled and pranced back to the mirror, swiveling his hips while he fumbled in front undoing buttons. With a shake and a brassy squirm, his jeans slid down his thighs as he spun around.
Lord Days gawked at the skimpy red briefs, covering no more than Julian’s crack and half of each cheek. However, there wasn’t time to take in the sight before Julian turned around. An even smaller patch scarcely hid the boy-bump in front, the two triangles connected by thin black elastic cords secured by plastic clasps shaped like boats—a bikini for boys on the French Riviera.
Julian glanced down and grinned. “Mum was certain you’d like ‘em. She ordered ‘em on the internet so I’d look more I-talian.”
“I love them,” Lord Days sighed. “Turn around again, sweetie.”
Julian had a beautiful bottom. Even his mum said so—she called it ‘luscious.’ It was small and round so it looked plump, but it was firm with gluteus muscle, not flabby like a fat boy. He waited for Lord Days to feast his eyes—he enjoyed being admired, especially back there. Then, he reached back and hauled up the waistband so the flimsy cloth pulled in, splitting his bubbly buttocks into two perfect bare globes.
Lord Days gulped. “Much better than boring white undies.”
Julian turned around; his hands on his hips, his little boy-bump already a noticeably bigger bulge. Lord Days licked his lips and watched the shape change until it pointed up. Like a bow firing an arrow, Julian arched back, presenting himself, because he was fully aware of the effect it had on Lord Days. He beamed like bright morning sunshine, excited and nervous--he knew that most boys would never do what he did.
“Beautiful,” Lord Days salivated.
With his jeans bunched up at his knees, Julian waddled over to the bed and flopped back, his legs hiked up to his chest.
“What happened to the strip show?”
Julian giggled. “It’s over. You ‘ave to finish undressin’me.” He wagged his feet.
Obediently, Lord Days took off the little hiking boots. They clumped to the floor, followed in short order by school socks and French-fashion jeans, until all that remained was a red rag to a bull. The spaniel jumped onto the bed and settled next to Julian, ready to be petted.
“Your mum knew what she was doing when she bought these.”
Julian looked down, scratching a floppy dog ear. ”You like ‘em more’n whities, don’t you?” he teased.
Lord Days inhaled and fingered fascinating red Lycra. “What’s not to like? You’re practically naked.”
Julian had a roguish smile. He lowered his voice and said as seductively as any boy could at his age, “You can take ‘em off when you want, Peter.”
Lord Days’ hands trembled as he pulled at the clasps, releasing the cords. He lifted back the inadequate covering, exposing the boy’s meager maleness. Without a care in the world, Julian lay back on the bed, one hand stroking Lizzie’s snout, fascinated by whiskers and a cold wet nose. His other hand casually tweaked his nipples, offering his modest thumb for inspection; and grinning, because anticipation was part of the fun.
His expression reminded Lord Days of their first time in the rainy Cotswolds, their first weekend away. After checking into a farmhouse bed and breakfast, they undressed and hurriedly got into bed, both giggling uneasily while Lord Days got him ready for sex. They’d actually done it a dozen times by then, but it was still very new. Even after a half hour of foreplay, Julian was still uncomfortably tight. Putting it in hurt, but they copulated twice before dinner, and again afterwards.
It was the third time that did it, or maybe it was dinner—baked lamb chops and minty sauce, but from then on, Julian couldn’t wait to do it again. His bottom, having been stretched beyond its elastic limit, stayed loose compared to before. That was important, but the best part was it wasn’t nearly as sore when Lord Days reinserted.
“You ‘ave to suck ‘im till I tell you to stop,” Julian directed, pointing and giggling at the same time, knowing that he was the only person who could tell Lord Days what to do.
Lord Days knelt on the end of the bed and leaned low. He licked his lips, contemplating a reproductive organ without equal, so stiff that it pointed up Julian’s belly without touching. Skin veiled the tiny plum head, but there was no other flaw, not even a freckle.
He stroked with the tips of his fingers, barely touching. “It’ll break off if I’m not careful.”
“Don’t be silly, Peter! Do my balls first,” Julian murmured, moving his slender thighs wide apart, still fondling the spaniel’s ears.
Everything about him radiated temptation. Lord Days’ tongue extended, licking over delicate boy-wrinkles before smooching the taut little scrotum, spreading hot slippery saliva over the flattened lump until the skin loosened enough to draw one tiny egg, then the other, through his lips. Julian tensed as teeth nipped. He lifted his hips off the bed, sighed, and slowly melted again.
“Ow, that’s nice.” And then he grinned, obscenely for one so young.
When Lord Days glanced up again, Julian had his eyes closed in intense concentration. He breathed deeply, giddy with delight, lean little belly stretched out, his chest rising and falling, his conspicuous boyhood shiny-wet and flicking sporadically. Lord Days concaved his cheeks, collecting saliva before slaving the tender, blistering flesh, kneading the tiny knob with his lips and tongue. Julian gave a delicious, contented whimper, a sure sign he was highly aroused. Lord Days moved lower, again sucking hard on the baby-soft pouch, inhaling both precious pearls behind his teeth, opening wide and pulling the little soldier in too, taking in everything ‘boy’ and sealing his lips on the petite pale pubis. Julian grinned doubly after that.
After a few mindless minutes, his fingers turned to fondling the gap between Julian’s firm cheeks, now slick with spit. He allowed even more to dribble down, reveling in lush hot flesh, dabbling in the hole in the boy’s narrow crack, not yet ready to insert himself, but lovingly preparing the way.
Too soon, Julian whispered, “You can do me bum if you want, Peter.”
Lord Days emptied his mouth of squirming boy and Julian promptly lifted his knees to his shoulders, assuming the catamite’s favorite position. Infatuated, he leaned over his youthful lover, pressing him into the bed properly. Man and boy were positioned for sodomy, no different than sea captains and cabin boys, knights and their squires, priests and acolytes, merchants and indentured apprentices, lords of the realm and their princes—it happened a lot in the days of yore. He breathed deep at the sight. It was always the same with his boy on his back, his hole opened up, ruddy and ready for him.
“Right then; if that’s what you want. Pull those cheeks apart so I can get you loosened up.”
Julian happily held his buttocks wide apart, grinning between knobby knees as Lord Days stared. No matter how many times, he was always enthralled. The opening was small as might be expected for a boy of Julian’s age, but a dusky band nearly two inches wide dispelled any doubt that he was sexually active. In fact, after seven glorious months, it showed the effects of excess. Intercourse had eliminated the delicate wrinkles long ago, leaving a creased crimson lip at the opening. It was Lord Days’ doing, although he wasn’t entirely to blame. His first finger extended, thickly coated with spit, and he pressed into the pucker. It was hot and moist, and easily entered. With a deft twist and a firm push, his finger sunk to the knuckle. Julian clutched his legs with one arm while he continued to pet the spaniel with the other.
Lord Days cautiously rotated his finger in 59 pounds of trembling boy. Then, he poked it up, like a hook in a fish, stuck fast inside the temporarily tight rectum, but pressing precisely on the right spot. The immediate response, a long breathy growl, became a low groan as if he’d released some kind of pressure from the immature gland. In an instant, Julian entered Nirvana—a demanding desire to be filled matched by feeling unnaturally empty at his core. He’d been that way for months, although he couldn’t remember when it had happened. As Lord Days gently prodded, his little warrior wilted and slowly shrank back, all but merging into the pouch underneath, no more than fleshy folds over two tiny marbles.
Lord Days probed skillfully, the sleek walls deliciously firm, the muscles inside remarkably strong as they squeezed and relaxed, pulling him deeper. He slid his finger out and rubbed over the little orifice, the outer muscle already spongy and utterly helpless. It was strange how it did that, as if it knew what it wanted and couldn’t relax fast enough.
He drooled more spit on his fingers and Julian’s hole before easing inside again, this time with a second finger pressed alongside. Julian gasped, his teeth gritted against the passing discomfort. Now, he felt vulnerable, the wedge driving straight into him, each joint jolting him like a bump in the road, getting thicker, steadily stretching him wider, so wide that it seemed something inside might tear, but it didn’t. Soon, Lord Days’ fingers were appropriately seated, as deep as they could go. Then, they waited until a pleasant, full feeling took over.
“Wicked,” Julian sighed, so absorbed by the sensation that he wondered whether he could survive without it.
He started to squeeze again, eyes dreamily closed, tightening himself each time before pushing out from inside, belly and bowels working in tandem, although Lord Days had never taught him to do that, at least not with his fingers. Lord Days kissed his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his eyes, and his gorgeous red lips, lingering there for their tongues to play together. All the while, two fingers smoothly sawed in and out, side to side, rotating, enlarging, always attuned to the slightest discomfort. However, that part of Julian’s body had become amazingly pliant. Like worn out elastic, inner muscle quickly gave way to stretchy flesh, the opening now fully dilated.
Finally, Lord Days stepped back from the bed and hurriedly stripped, shedding his clothes on the floor, enjoying Julian’s fascination. Like any young boy, he stared, blatantly fascinated by an adult male. He’d seen Lord Days naked almost every night for seven months, but it still excited him. He lay quietly, one hand stroking the dog, his other hand gently fondling the floppy worm drooping across his little pale mound, aware that he needed to get it hard and hot and ready to play. Usually, just seeing Lord Days undress was enough.
He was primed for bed-games before Lord Days straddled him again, his British-steel cannon pointed right at the oversexed child. Julian grinned and drew back his knees, placing little boy feet on either side of the shaft, pressing his heels on the base, the plum head reaching an inch past his toes.
“’e’s big enough for a ‘orse, ‘e is,” he whispered.
At times, he was jealous, which was only to be expected when his own throbbing member was the size of his thumb, but he still loved looking at Lord Days. Silently, he lifted his feet and moved his legs wide apart, and they came together, their warm bare bodies connecting belly to belly the way nature intended. They began lovingly caressing each other, adult hands pawing smooth hairless skin, the boy entranced by clipped coarse bristles below, so different to the soft fur on a man’s chest. Then, Lord Days lifted up and they touched each other’s sexual parts, and they grinned because the contrast between them was never more obvious than it was at that moment—the boy-part unyielding yet completely defenseless, no more than a toy in a grown man’s hand, the other a truncheon too big for Julian’s fist, ready to overcome anything that dared to get in its way.
Lord Days dutifully shuffled closer until he faced the weighty Queen Victoria headboard, his hugely extended shaft hovering in front of Julian’s face, expecting a kiss if not more. Julian licked it right on the tip, relishing the tangy taste with a smack of his lips, and then he grinned and shook his head, kept shaking it even though Lord Days scowled, until finally, they both started to laugh. Then, still shy about what he wanted, he mouthed two words, the unmistakable affirmation of why men bedded boys.
Lord Days smiled, thinking there was nothing as erotic as a willing young boy. “Your wish is my command, my prince.”
“Can you bum me standin’ up like Pat done wiv Trev?” Julian added, just a little embarrassed.
Normal boys wouldn’t say that, but a normal boy didn’t have an anus shaped like a funnel. He’d seen it in the mirror, finally learning that he was different back there compared to his friends. After that, he was careful that none of them saw it.
“We’ll do it any way you want, lover boy, just as soon as you’re ready.”
Lord Days dismounted and hurried over to his suitcase. An unopened bottle of Spice French Silk was in the front pocket. He took it out of the box on the way back, stopping only to pick up the bottle of champagne and one of the glasses. Then, he knelt on the bed and handed over the lubricant.
Julian flipped off the cap and squeezed a big puddle onto Lord Days’ fingers. Then, putting the bottle next to the pillow, he brought his knees back to his ears, reached down, and spread his buttocks to expose the one place that had to be slippery.
“Beautiful, my beautiful boy,” Lord Days sighed, utterly infatuated.
Julian was fully aware what he wanted. “You’re in love wiv my bum-hole, you are.”
It winked at Lord Days as he stared at that special boy place. It was shadowed in mystery around the tiny pouty lip, as if an artist used watercolours to shroud its enigmatic purpose, blending yellow ochre and burnt sienna, and a tint of violet. Every time he looked at it, before and after. Over the months, he’d seen it change, the first time trading pink, virgin wrinkles for a gaping crimson mouth, never to be the same again. The bruises were there the next morning.
“Head over heels, actually,” he admitted.
When he finished later that night, it would be magenta and shiny wet, stretched wide enough he’d be able to look into his boy’s body and see where he’d been, his creamy calling card left within.
“’ead over ‘eels,” Julian snickered. “You sound like a right perv, you do.”
Endearingly submissive and very used to foreplay, but he still shivered when a lubricated forefinger slid in and began to move about. It felt slick, thick and long, and so very strong; and it reached way up inside him, so unlike his own finger that barely got past the muscle.
His erection faded again, slowly shrinking back to a worm. He pulled his cheeks even farther apart, offering himself. Two wary fingers replaced one bold finger, not reaching as far, but much thicker, a delicious, essential part of their love. He did what a boy needed to do; he pushed out, sighing as Lord Days’ paired fingers glided in and out. It was a teasing, tantalizing taste of things to come. The more Lord Days stretched his anus, the more he fidgeted, nervous quivers beginning inside him. It felt strange, as if another inch or just a little harder would make all the difference.
“Nice and loose, just the way I like,” Lord Days remarked when he extricated his fingers from the hot little body. He squeezed more shiny gel from the tube.
“Use lots, Peter.”
“Who’s bumming this boy?” Lord Days grinned, glancing down to check on his progress.
The pucker, what was left of it after seven glorious months, had now disappeared completely, his young lover switched to ‘entry mode,’ glistening and ruddy and more than a little bit open.
Julian burst into giggles. “You are, but I want it nice ‘n slippery, Sir.”
Lord Days added even more lubricant and then his fingers explored, no longer trying to widen his boy. Slightly deeper and harder, and Julian would’ve peed on the bed. Instead, his heart almost stopped. He shuddered, straining as hard as he could to increase the pressure on his special spot, like a button that had to be pushed again and again. In and out, then right and left, finally up and down like a lever, massaging his rectum until he could barely stand it, but Lord Days knew better. He kept his catamite right on the edge, hovering between pleasure and something that promised pain, but never quite got there.
“Feels good, that does,” Julian huffed, wanting it over, but at the same time wanting it to last forever.
Julian wanted to say ‘not even close,’ but he wasn’t ready to talk about how it made him feel, not even with Peter. He was as bold and brave as any boy his age, but having sex changed him. The need to be spitted consumed his willpower, his desire more demanding than any boy could withstand, but it took something from him. It made him unsure of himself.
“Is that enough, or should I squirt some inside as well?” Lord Days suggested gleefully after a third dose of gel.
He’d done that a couple of times—it got very messy, and the following morning it was sure to send Julian running to the bathroom.
“Don’t you dare.”
Julian’s squeak was music to his ears as his fingers corkscrewed, boring deep, perfectly aligned. Then, thrusting firmly into Julian’s core, he watched his boy writhe, his sweet lips twisted in grimace as his body adjusted. After less than a minute, he withdrew and hurriedly applied more gel before he shoved in one finger. He held it there, pressing up. Julian groaned when he hit the right spot. He rubbed hard and watched his boy’s face contort again. Julian’s hips lifted up, straining every slim muscle as he raced to the peak. He loved to see his boy trembling.
There was no answer, which wasn’t at all surprising with Julian groaning very loudly. Sometimes he shrieked when the spasms began. Lord Days’ finger felt wonderful, almost like he was being buggered, but it was thinner and not nearly as hot. He started to twitch, straining down, throbbing inside as Lord Days rubbed quickly.
“Gawd,” he whispered, nodding urgently. “Peter… Peter…. Please… Ohhhh. Oh Gawd. Ohhhh.”
Suddenly, he stopped petting the dog, rammed his fist in his mouth, and shuddered in dry, agonizing ecstasy for several seconds, his rectal muscles frantically squeezing Lord Days’ finger. Not unexpectedly, he lost control of his bladder. Lord Days grabbed for the towel, but like the boy’s orgasm, it was already over. Julian slumped back, the finger withdrawn, his heart slowing down, heat fading—it always ended too quickly. He closed his eyes, suddenly groggy, trying to separate the good feelings from the unpleasant sensation of having to sit on the toilet.
Lord Days wiped up the chardonnay puddle on Julian’s belly and pushed the towel under his buttocks. Then, he playfully tugged on the boy’s shriveled member, his need now in control.
“Put some on me, Sweetheart.”
Julian giggled, suddenly very aware that two of Lord Days’ fingers were deeply embedded again, not at all sure when that had happened, but they felt like they were part of him, like they’d always been there. Hurriedly, he slathered lubricant over the tumescent shaft and brought his legs up to his chest again in the manner of all pretty boys since the Greeks. This time, his hands shook when he parted his cheeks. When Lord Days’ fingers slid free, a burning, blunt bell immediately took their place. It bulged into his crack, slippery yet sturdy, completely plugging the gaping sex-hole.
Lord Days crooned the counsel that men gave boys before penetration. Like Hadrian’s Antinous, Julian closed his eyes. One might’ve thought he was completely at ease, but it was always the same: heady excitement, a compulsive desire deep inside, the need to be skewered overpowering self-protection, but it still took all of his concentration to make his body submit, to stop his opening from tightening up.
“Are you ready?”
He nodded and tried hard to relax as the pressure increased, steadily demanding entry. Already weakened, the muscle yielded without much of a struggle. He gasped a soft whiny sigh when the head forced his hole to stretch a fraction more than it wanted. They felt it slide in, the hard hot thickness slowly sheathed by slimy, even hotter boy-flesh. Then, with Julian rolled up, his back almost entirely off the bed, they stopped pushing. A band of resilient inner muscle gripped behind the intruding head, but it didn’t last long once his hole was breached.
“Itsssin,” Julian hissed, trembling uncontrollably
He was awed as much from the feeling as the realization that his body was joined with Lord Days; anxious too, because he was old enough to know it was ‘queer’ for two males to do that.
“So tight,” Lord Days muttered, delighted that he’d managed again to get inside without even a whimper.
He squeezed against his under-aged lover, and Julian relaxed even more, recklessly rejecting aggressive impulses, consciously loosening what wanted to tighten, blue eyes meeting doe-brown eyes, both sharing the wonder of belonging to each other. They worked together, the timeless rhythm of men and boys making love, one squeezing persistently, the other deliberately slackening, both intent on what needed to happen.
Lord Days focused on giving his boy pleasure, barely moving for a minute, then withdrawing completely to rub the oozing head in Julian’s cleft before reinserting, expertly working both rims, not penetrating deeply but teasing. It was a trick he’d learned in Spain twenty years earlier. It took patience to loosen a boy’s anus like that, but there was no better way. Even when it was easy to put in, he adhered to habit—a boy always enjoyed intercourse when it was done like that at the start.
Then, without any warning, he simply kept pushing, deeper and deeper into the slick little tunnel. Julian gasped as it expanded inside him, getting progressively bigger and tighter until there was no room left. It hadn’t hurt for six months, but he still gasped, more in shock that it was actually possible to have something that big slide inside him in a single smooth motion. His eyes wavered nervously downward, expecting to see his belly bulging out near his navel. He felt like he was going to burst—there was no other way to describe it.
Lord Days grasped Julian’s hips and slowly pulled him closer, turning his pelvis to force in the last inch, knowing he’d wince—a boy always did when a man’s cock reached the bend in his colon. Gently but firmly, he impaled the rapscallion, Julian’s impish grin exchanged for a grimace, but it had to be done. When he glanced down he saw only trimmed pubic hair and a glimpse of his boy’s traumatized ring, all but forced inside.
“My beautiful sexy boy feels so good,” he sighed.
“Bit bloody big,” Julian whined, complaining because boys were supposed to. The socially unacceptable alternative was to admit it felt good for him too.
Lord Days brushed a wisp of curly hair from Julian’s forehead. Already dangerously close to losing control, he slowly drew back until it popped out. Then, he scooted down the bed and swiftly inserted his forefinger. While he poked and prodded to keep the hole open, his lips roamed about, kissing Julian on the tip of his nose, sucking red blotches on his slender neck, licking little ears and smooth cheeks, and a sweet sensuous mouth that existed only for him to devour it. And that beautiful flat belly, so firm from fencing, like a little Olympic athlete with taut muscles underneath, yet as soft as a baby to touch, his neatly tied navel inviting any number of nibbling kisses, pecking at pinprick nipples until giggles ensued.
With his abdominal worship completed and unable to wait any longer, he engulfed the sweaty, spongy thing that made Julian male. With the foreskin retracted, it was perfectly formed. Still pitifully small, like the pouch underneath, yet it was sized right for Julian’s body. With his finger buried inside his young lover, he quickly returned it to stiffness. He followed up with lots of sloppy smooches and loving licks, all the while his fingertips chafed along Julian’s vulnerable crack, constantly caressing his anus.
“You want to be naughty?” Lord Days suggested, shoving the jealous spaniel out of the way.
“I won’t tell Mum if we do,” Julian whispered back, stroking his master’s massive erection, getting it ready for proper penetration.
They leered at each other as Lord Days knelt over him. Lovingly, he guided Julian’s legs to assume the position again, bony heels pinned close to his ears, little bum lifted up. It was somewhat uncomfortable, but it was entirely natural to start making love with a boy on his back. He poked with his cock until he located the entrance, pressing in firmly. It was the way a man entered a boy when he was no longer virgin. Julian’s eyes opened wide, throbbing hard flesh depressing the fissure between his slick cheeks until his opening gave way. He groaned as it pushed into him, accepting just the plump swollen head before his muscle clamped down. He pushed back, straining down the way he’d been trained, convincing his bottom to swallow another thick inch. They paused, both gasping, then grinning as they realized their bodies were properly joined in the middle.
“You feel so good, Peter,” Julian muttered, his skinny arms wrapping around Lord Days’ neck, pulling him down.
It was testament more to desire rather than Lord Days’ athletic ability that their lips could meet. It was a long wet kiss. When their lips finally parted, it felt even better.
“Ready,” Lord Days breathed in his ear.
Julian nodded, tensing in fleeting discomfort as Lord Days forced in the rest of it, holding his breath until it stopped at the bend—inseparable now, man and boy pressed tightly together. It was awfully big, testing Julian’s slim body and stretching his bowels to the limit, yet always fitting inside him as if it was meant to be there. It was just the last inch that made him feel uncomfortable. The pressure was overwhelming, but not really hurting once it was in.
“Yesssss,” he hissed.
The pressure deepened as Lord Days cautiously advanced into the colon, watching for clenched little fists, the first sign of distress.
“Ohhhh…. Peter…. Don’t move…. “
“No…. it’s good… just big…” Julian panted, happy now that he had Peter inside him, but he ached all through his belly.
“My little lover boy likes being buggered, doesn’t he?” Lord Days rasped, fully embedded in twitching, tormenting flesh, hoping he would last long enough to satisfy both of them.
It was torture for over a minute until his boy’s body gave up the struggle, until Julian was keen on the feeling. Despite the ache, being penetrated satisfied him in a way that amazed him. There was nothing even remotely like being ‘buggered.’ The thing buried in his bowels was hot and hard, and so very manly. And he liked being called ‘my little lover boy,’ because he was. Pinned underneath, there was no doubt who he belonged to. He liked looking up at Lord Days’ broad hairy chest, and his even hairier armpits; but most of all he liked that he couldn’t stop what was happening, even if he wanted to.
Another minute ticked past before he timidly felt between them, his shriveled boy-worm, his scrunched-up balls, the thick hot shaft that disappeared into his bottom. He felt very proud.
“Peter, what if Eric did this with Master Sparey?”
“You think he’d like it?”
“Dunno really. Martin reckons ‘e’s a poof.”
“Martin would know,” Lord Days quipped, almost letting the cat out of the bag.
Julian would soon find out that he wasn’t the only Westminster boy who was loved by a man, or two in Martin’s case. However, while Martin’s innocence was most definitely sullied, he was still virgin, and would be for three more months. The last time Lord Days had lunched with Andrew and Mark they’d told him that they’d decided to deflower their darling the day he turned nine.
Yet another minute passed before Julian whispered, “Bum me.” Lord Days merely smiled devotedly so he added, “Please… Sir.”
It sounded like begging, and it was, though he would never admit it. instead, he cautiously wriggled his hips and squeezed up against Lord Days’ bristly crotch, shamelessly feeling it slide deeper, bulging inside his body. He reached the point of no return, shuddering erratically as his rectum reconfigured, trying not to pee from the incredible compression right on his bladder. He groaned and pushed even harder, getting it in all the way. In an instant, the ache returned with a vengeance. Somewhere deep inside something throbbed. It made him whimper.
Lord Days withdrew instinctively, not all the way, just enough that the pressure diminished. A moment later, he pushed in again, smoothly, powerfully, watching Julian’s wide-eyed rapture. He was directly on mark and his boy shuddered again. It was hard to get it past that spot without a few tears. Patience was the trick. He lingered a moment or two, deeply embedded, the weakened muscle gripping when he began to pull back. With a lifetime of experience, he knew what boys liked.
“How’s that?” he crooned close to Julian’s ear.
“Uh…. Could… I… have…. some… more…. Please? Please….”
He initiated an unpredictable rhythm of thrust and parry timed to each muffled gasp. He moved confidently, yet cautiously, listening for the sounds that boys always made when orgasm was imminent, worried that he might not last long enough.
After only sixteen good strokes, Julian groaned. “Gotta pee, Peter.”
He was still unable to separate the sensations. At the same time, he didn’t feel like a boy any longer. Lord Days tried to slow down—now timing was everything, but his hips moved involuntarily. Not mechanically, but as a man whose only goal was to make love to a quivering little boy, his scrawny legs splayed wide.
“Peter… he’s… so big… So good… Oh…. Ah… Ah… Ohhhh.”
He gripped Julian’s shoulder to prevent him from writhing, his forearm supporting Julian’s head, his elbow taking most of his weight. His other hand maintained access to a huge hole unnaturally slimy, excess lubricant accumulating around the opening, drooling down the boy’s crack, making dark smears on the sheets where the towel had been pushed away. His shaved balls bounced back and forth as his adult loins collided with his boy’s uplifted buttocks, slippery flesh slapping wetly.
“So good,” he agreed with a needy groan. “Best little bum in all England.”
Julian struggled, trying to move with him. He ached all over, but especially down there. He couldn’t stop wriggling.
“Yes… Yes…. Ah…. Ah… Spunk in me, Peter… peeing… I… ohhhhh….”
Lord Days felt the tube become tighter, as much his doing as Julian’s, requiring more effort for his engorged shaft to punch through the overheated passageway, both of them grunting with every frantic lunge. Then, finally overcome by the urge to procreate, he shoved deep inside. The tremors rushed through him, his hips jerking forcefully—a half-dozen impressive squirts. With nothing to hold it back, his white hot seed flooded Julian’s colon yet again. He kept thrusting to get it all out, much too quickly slowing down to a dribble.
“Don’t… don’tstop…. Peter….”
For a few wonderful moments, Julian’s heels pummeled Lord Days’ thighs as he humped underneath, doing whatever he could to keep it moving inside him. It was different now, mushy and hot, his master’s thickness sliding so easily that it could plop out if they weren’t careful. Then, Lord Days’ thrusting began to pick up again. In a rush, Julian peaked. He squealed as his own surge began, his much smaller body bucking wildly.
“More…. More…. More….” Julian begged, nodding his head.
Lord Days managed four quick jabs before he had to slow down. His maleness was fading, no longer as stiff yet he still managed to plunge deep into the little rectum. Each rut expelled fluids onto the sheets as Julian’s bottom gurgled and slurped, soiled semen spattering between them.
“Do me bum, Peter…”
Julian had been there so often that he knew exactly what to expect. If he didn’t climax it wasn’t the end of the world, but he was still frantic. His hands grasped Lord Days’ arms, slender fingers raking like claws, the thing still throbbing inside him, still moving but not stabbing, not nearly as demanding as it had been a few moments earlier. It sucked back and forth lazily, squelching loudly. He strained against it, using every muscle inside him to increase the pressure, becoming increasingly distracted until he suddenly reached the frenzied ecstasy that boys experienced when nothing came out, quaking uncontrollably as his sphincter repeatedly cramped.
“Ahhh! Ahhh… Peter… Oh Ohhh… Ohhhhh.”
“That’s it. Let it out …. Sexy boy…. Such a good sexy boy… my darling, beautiful boy. I love you, Julian.”
Lord Days grasped Julian tightly until he regained his breath, until reason returned, until the ‘shakes’ disappeared. His lust was quenched, yet he lingered inside the boy’s pulverized bowels, hoping it hadn’t ended. Squishy boy-flesh seethed around him, little lithe legs still clamped around his middle, little weakened arms locked around his neck to keep them together. He brushed back disheveled hair and stroked Julian’s face, mesmeric eyes lidded in sleepy satisfaction, both wanting more, but too tired to do it right away.
“You didn’t waste no time gettin’ off,” Julian chided.
“Sorry. You felt so good I couldn’t help spunking. Bad timing on my part.”
“Me bum’s all sloppy now, thanks to you.”
He could feel it slowly recede, still part of him yet shrinking back, the fleshy fullness fading until he was barely aware of it, so loose that it felt mushy inside him, slimy juices leaking out. A first rate bumming, but a boy could never say so.
However, Lord Days delighted in the heady smell of sex. “You want me to clean you up, Sweetheart?”
“Dunno. If you want,” Julian murmured reluctantly.
He liked being licked afterwards. As far as he knew, it was nothing special. Just part of making love with a man. It felt nice, and it was fun, but it meant taking it out and turning over. He liked having it in even more. In fact, he relished the gooey feeling in his bottom.
“You promised we was goin’ to do it standin’ up.”
“Maybe I’m not done with your bum for tonight.”
Lord Days grinned down at Julian. His boy’s immaculate beauty fascinated him, a gentle rounded jaw and fragile cheeks, perfect symmetry, an expanse of forehead that begged kisses as much as his wonderful lips, not a single flaw, not even a freckle dared spoil the oval.
A gurgle escaped, musky-sweet. “That’s your fault, that is. Made me all spunky inside, you did.”
“You like having it in you.”
“Still messy, ain’t it?” Julian rebuked.
He was used to it oozing out afterwards, unable to stop it no matter how much he tried. He was old enough to know he’d been used like a girl, so he’d never say so, but he wanted all of Lord Days’ sperm to stay in his body. The amazing thing was that it didn’t bother him, not like it would other boys.
“Supposed to be messy. The more spunk the better, I say. Shows how much I love you, it does.”
Julian rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in his belly. Tenderly, Lord Days extricated himself. It slid out with a splatter. He plugged the yawning hole just in time, pressing his fingers into the reddened crevice to prevent a trickle of liquid. He rolled his boy onto his side and curled up behind him, rearranging them like spoons in a butler’s pantry.
“How was it? Did you like it?” He nibbled a delicate whorl of an ear, gently stroking a soft, small flank, sweaty hot.
“Brilliant,” Julian admitted with an unguarded giggle. He moved his head away. “Tickles,”
“You’re an amazing boy; you know that, don’t you?”
Julian reached between them, pressing Lord Days’ slimy sex into his equally slimy furrow. “’e did a good job. Made me feel all wonky, ‘e did.”
“Takes practice, that’s all.”
“Let’s practice some more.”
“Sexy boy. I can’t believe you’re still horny.”
Julian grinned. He’d been told why, but it didn’t stop him from wishing that his man didn’t have to rest for a while. “You fink Trev and Pat done it already, Peter?”
“Not unless they stopped on the way back.”
“Lots of room in a Range Rover,” Julian murmured.
“You want me to trade in the Aston?”
“Don’t be silly.”
He grasped Lord Days’ hand, dragging it down to cup his shriveled-up privates. He liked being held afterwards, powerful fingers cradling his tiny eggs, feeling so tired, a dull ache in his bottom and belly. Knowing Lord Days loved him was the best part, even if it meant he was queer, not at all interested in women, just boys like himself.
He guided Lord Days’ hand, ensuring a finger gently stroked what used to be steely. It felt as worn out as its young master, although it hadn’t done anything. He felt his foreskin being repositioned, fingertips pinching right on the tip, gently rolling the exposed tender ball, feathery touches guaranteed to have the desired effect. It took only seconds for his floppy boy-part to shrug off its stupor and stiffen.
“Your thumb’s bigger than me willy.”
Compared to Lord Days’ thumb, his ‘willy’ was shorter by a thumbnail, but the difference wasn’t worth mentioning, not when Lord Days’ erect penis was as big as his forearm. He felt behind him, encountering bristles and a man’s flaccid organ. He squirmed, rubbing it along his crack.
“And what are you up to, my prince?”
Julian giggled and squashed the knob against his hole. “Do me again, Peter.”
Lord Days hugged him, his hand cupping tightly. “In a while.”
“You’ll be sore in the morning.”
“Three times, you promised.”
“I will if you’re still awake.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time you done it wivout wakin’ me up,” Julian teased.
Sometimes when Lord Days entered him in the middle of the night, he was awake, but usually not, not even knowing unless Lord Days told him the next morning.
“Nothing wrong with it, if you don’t mind sloppy seconds,” Lord Days joked.
A boy loosened up after sex; his sphincter relaxed, and he was slippery inside so there was nothing to stop a man from putting it in—delightfully clandestine sex. Sex in the middle of the night was unforgettable, pumping leisurely deep inside a sleeping boy’s body, reaching right into his core while he dreamed.
He took a bottomless breath. “Julian, there’s something we need to talk about. I was going to tell you on the way up here, but you fell asleep. I was late today because Her Majesty has asked me to be her Ambassador to the Republic of Croatia. If I accept, I’ll have to leave soon.”
Julian barely moved, holding his breath as if he knew what Lord Days was going to say next. Finally, he looked over his shoulder. “’ow soon?”
“I have to be in residence in a week.”
“Mum better start packing.” He giggled nervously.
“She’s not coming. I need her in London, Sweetie. Someone has to take care of things here. The thing is, I need you to help her. I’ll come home as often as I can.”
“Mum and me don’t mind livin’ someplace else.”
“I promise I’ll be good,” Julian pleaded, already sinking.
“You’re always good. I’d love for you to come with me, but I just don’t see how you can.”
“Why don’t you need Mum?” His bottom lip pushed out, ready to cry.
“I need her here. I’ll have a staff in Croatia.”
“She can stay in London and we’ll go by ourselves.”
“It wouldn’t look right, me taking you by yourself. It would be different if you were my son, but you’re not.”
“Mum wouldn’t mind if I went wiv you.”
“I don’t know about that. She loves you very much.”
“She says you ought to ‘dopt me ‘cause we spend so much time together.”
“I wish I could,” Lord Days said emptily.
Suddenly, Julian frowned. “If you married Mum, you’d be my dad.” He’d never mentioned it before, but he thought about it often.
“I’d rather marry you,” Lord Days quipped, realizing that was exactly what he wanted to do.
“That’s what Pat was goin’ on about.”
“Unfortunately, boy marriage isn’t allowed, even for Catholics.”
Julian didn’t smile. “Why don’t you ‘dopt me then?”
He hugged Julian and kissed the top of his head. “I rather like that idea.”
“A little bit or a lot?” Julian teased, raising up to poke Lord Days in the chest.
“Climb on top, lover boy, and I’ll show you how much.”
He’d been joking, but Julian clambered over him, giggling and pushing and shoving until he gave up and rolled onto his back. Julian kneeled over him, mostly sitting on his belly, his buttocks so wide apart that he couldn’t stop the dribble out of his bottom. It dripped onto Lord Days’ belly, a little viscous puddle, murky not white.
“It’s only from us, Sweetheart.”
Julian wrinkled his nose although it smelled more musky than bad, wriggling back before he crouched down. It positioned him perfectly, like a jockey astride a thoroughbred at the start of a race. He stretched his head up and they kissed while four eager hands tried to insert it again.
“’e’s all slimy, ain’t ‘e? Like that eel we caught at Stratford last month,” Julian chortled.
“That’s you who’s all slimy back there,” Lord Days rejoined. “Stop squeezing it closed.”
“I’m not! Want to ride the ‘orsey, don’t I? ”
“Am I anywhere close to your bum hole?”
“Go down a bit, Peter. You ought to know if ‘e’s in the right spot. You’ve ‘ad enough practice.”
“That’s me balls, silly!”
“You’re really slippery,” Lord Days mused, massaging his knob in a frictionless fissure, more oozing out. He rubbed across the hole, deliberately pressing the head inward, making Julian tremble.
“Cos of you spunking up so much. ‘e’d go right in, ‘cept ‘e’s not ‘ard enough.”
“It wouldn’t be a problem if you stopped wriggling about.”
“Am not!” Julian sniggered. “I can’t ‘elp it if your big ugly thing’s too tired to do it.”
Lord Days positioned the head so it couldn’t escape and forced it in. The opening, already weakened, gulped the glans, clutching behind the rim, but it was too limp to get more through unless Lord Days kept pushing it in with his fingers.
“Ow, take it out,” Julian guffawed. “I changed me mind.”
Lord Days laughed with him and stuffed in more. “Too late, my boy. I’m going to bum you before you fall asleep on me.”
“I love you.”
“If you love me so much, why don’t you ‘dopt me, Peter?”
“I wish I could. You’re everything I ever dreamed about. I’d love to have you for my son.”
“And I want you for me dad, so there ain’t no excuse, is there?”
“If only I could. You feel so good.”
Lord Days crammed more of himself into the welcoming, wet heat, grateful that penetration was always easier the second time, but he still wished he were harder. Just a little stiffer and he’d be able to slide in properly.
Julian lay with his head on Lord Days’ shoulder. He loved the feeling of Lord Days’ arms wrapped around him, his manhood being stuffed inelegantly into his bottom. It wasn’t overly big at the moment, and not even close to halfway, but it was enough for him to feel good. Satisfied, he licked bare skin and inhaled deeply.
“Did you do this when you were a boy then?” he murmured.
“Like it, did you?”
“What do you think?” Lord Days pulled Julian down and kissed him on the forehead. Then, they played tongue tag for a while. Wet noses were ‘kills’.
After a prolonged duel, Julian sat up, grinning, proudly impaled, his insides satisfyingly stretched—it was much bigger now. He wiped spit from his mouth. “So you liked being bummed as a kid?”
“Most boys do. They just don’t admit it.”
“Meanin’ you liked it. So did you like it a little bit or a lot, Peter?” he demanded, full of mischief.
He lifted up until it almost pulled out, stopping with the head plugged inside him. It felt big, like a ping-pong ball was tugging against his anus. He tightened on it, relaxed, and then eased down again, taking his time and completely in charge. It still wasn’t hard enough; it kept bending and wobbling around, hardly the unyielding stake he was used to. However, he could feel it thickening, reaching up into his rectum, the start of the packed-full sensation he’d come to enjoy.
“About like you, I expect.”
“Yeah, you liked it alright!” Julian snickered, now squeezing his inner muscles the way he’d been taught. “Bet that feels good. It does, don’t it? Mum says that’s why you’re always doin’ the naughty wiv me, cos you got bummed a lot when you was a boy.”
“Might have been.”
“You were! Bet ‘e liked doin’ you too.”
“Who wouldn’t like doing it when a boy’s bum feels as nice as yours.”
“All spunky you mean.” He couldn’t help smirking at his much older lover. Lord Days merely winked. He sank back very slowly. “Feels like ’e’s getting really big now.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
“’cos you want to…. fuck me.” It was only a whisper as he lifted up with his haunches.
Lord Days pretended to be shocked, which made Julian giggle, allowing the now-engorged glans to exit with a noisy slurp. He reached behind, grasping the slippery shaft. Positioning the tip, he pushed back wantonly, wanting it back inside him more than ever before.
“Rather. Except I prefer to think of it as making love to the most beautiful boy in the world.”
Any man would be awed, as much by the blithe little boy crouched above him, as the delicious sensation they shared. Just the knob was inside his boy’s body. It was hot and squishy, and so slippery that the slightest push would send his manhood slithering back where it belonged.
“I love you so much,” he murmured
Utterly content, Julian leaned down. He was ready for a cuddle. Lord Days stroked his flanks, feeling each indented rib, his thumbs rubbing miniature nipples into dots. Further penetration was inescapable. It had to happen eventually. After a while, Julian wriggled his hips. His sphincter was so loose that the massive penis promptly slid deeper. It delighted both of them how easy it was.
Julian could feel it pass through, still stretching him yet not like before. Not even a twinge, just thick hot flesh taking over his body. Still wriggling, he wet his lips, settling lower to smother Lord Days’ chest with careless kisses. It was in as far as it could go when he was on top, nearly three quarters of the shaft hidden from sight before he backed off. He didn’t stop until he was crouching above, the reddened glans kissing his dilated opening. He did it very slowly, sometimes scarcely moving, relishing the sensation that spread out from his ravished hole. It didn’t hurt in the slightest.
Then, Lord Days gave a tentative thrust, firmly holding his boy’s skinny hips to keep him immobile as he forced in two more inches. He bottomed out and stayed deeply buried, slippery fluids seeping out, relishing the extra pressure from Julian’s colon right on the end, enough heat to melt human flesh. He lived for Julian’s breathy groans. Nothing was better than to feel him shuddering, little muscles doing their utmost to hold him tightly. Then, he slowly pulled out again, only the head left inside.
Julian gasped ‘fuck.’ He breathed deeply. “Ow, that ‘urt.”
“Liar. You loved it.”
He smiled weakly, already missing the fluttering under his spine, somewhere back behind his belly. It was all so confusing. He could feel it, but he couldn’t. All he knew was he needed it back. He felt empty without the last two inches.
“I wish you could ‘dopt me, Peter.”
“I wish I could too, sweetie. It takes months, even years to adopt someone, you know.”
“Martin Telford’s adopted. ‘e’s got two dads and no mum.”
“I know,” Lord Days said. It was as good a time as any. “Andrew and Mark are gay, and Martin too, of course.”
“I fought ‘e might be. ‘e does this then?” He tightened his anus so there was no doubt what ‘this’ was.
“Not yet. He will when he turns nine. On his birthday, actually.”
“They both going to do ‘im, aren’t they?”
“Andrew will do it first, I expect.”
“’cos ‘e’s rich?”
“Mark’s bigger, so it makes sense for him to go second. Don’t tell Martin; it’s supposed to be a surprise.”
“I won’t. Go in again, Peter.”
Julian held perfectly still as his lover slid in, absorbing manly charisma, enchanted by the fullness and heat flowing between them. The sensation of something changing inside him became overpowering. Euphoria was taking over, each careful thrust reinforcing desire until he was no longer uncertain about what Peter did to him. Now, he looked forward to that funny weak feeling that came after his body adjusted.
Lord Days pressed gently, firmly, penetrating far enough that his boy was happy. Julian sighed, wondering if girls felt the same way, whether they had a persistent need behind their bellies.
“What if Dumbledore ‘ad a spell to turn boys into girls?” he whispered, always ready to pretend that he attended Hogwarts instead of Westminster Under School. “Then, you could marry me, Peter.”
“He’d better not use it on you. I’d never do this with a girl.”
Julian grinned, using his muscles.
“Not too much, Sweetie.”
“’e could turn me into a boy again after we was married.”
“That’d work. Only I rather like the idea of you in a white tuxedo.”
“I wouldn’t mind wearin’ a wedding dress if I ‘ad to.”
“Boy or girl, you’d be gorgeous either way.”
Forsaking caution, Julian squeezed, slowly increasing the pressure inside his bowels.
“Ah… Oh my…”
“That’s what you get wiv a boy, Peter.”
“Better be careful if you want me to last.”
“What was ‘e like then, the man what done you?”
“He wasn’t a man. He was seventeen.”
Julian smirked. Seventeen was nearly a man, likely full-grown where it counted. “’ow old was you?”
“Ten. At least I was when we started. Our fathers were friends. He taught me how to play cricket. He was on Westminster’s First Eleven. He took me to watch the Ashes one year. Quite a game, that was. “
“I bet you done it in the lav when they stopped for tea,” Julian snorted.
“Much too crowded, but I did see his willy when we peed.”
“Was it big?”
Lord Days smiled and reached around Julian’s bottom, completely captivated, his fingers caressing the furrow, feeling himself fill the centre. “You’re so soft.”
“You ain’t no more.” Julian smirked, his weakened muscles still struggling to accept an erection that forced his buttocks apart. “So was he big, Peter?”
“At the time, I thought he was huge.”
“As big as Pat, or like you?” Julian sniggered, lifting up again.
“It was rather long, that I do remember.”
Julian knelt astride, slim thighs splayed wide, his heels wedged under Lord Days’ thighs for leverage, consciously pushing back until trimmed hair spiked his bottom. Disobedient auburn curls framed his androgynous face, so unlike the nine-year-old rascal who defied commonsense and challenged older boys to fence.
“Did ‘e ‘ave a skinny one then?” he demanded, almost giggling.
“It was wide enough to keep me happy.”
For the moment, Julian was content, wanting only to feel his lover buried inside him. Being joined was more fun than anything he could think of, although no one would ever believe it. Happy all over, he leaned down again and kissed Lord Days’ shoulders, nearly ready to whisper what he needed.
“Sounds like you liked it a lot,” he teased.
“I expect I liked it as much as you do, though it hurt sometimes.”
He sat up, the shaft bending back as he leaned against Lord Days’ thighs, his wobbly prick dangling down. “Means you didn’t do it enough!”
Lord Days said that whenever he complained, which wasn’t often. He wondered how his mum knew his bottom got tighter when he missed sleeping in Lord Days’ bed for a night. He hadn’t told Peter, but she teased him when the sleeping arrangements weren’t to his liking.
“We wanted to do it, but, there weren’t many opportunities to be by ourselves. The best part was the summer before he went up to Oxford. I was eleven. We spent the weekends together.”
Lord Days caressed Julian’s shoulders and gently repositioned him. Kissing and ‘riding the horsey’ was always a struggle, but somehow they were able to press mouth to mouth. They kissed until it throbbed between them. By then, Lord Days’ unbendable stake was all but hidden from sight. Man and boy properly mated, joined the way that nature intended, the small sphincter muscle clutching the male part possessively, other much stronger muscles trying to force in the last little bit.
“Bit more,” Julian murmured back.
By then, his anus felt like a ring clamped around the base of Lord Days’ erection. Farther in, his rectum was grasping and very alive. Lord Days pushed deeper, straining until his member was sheathed to the hilt, flexing firmly with the end lodged in Julian’s colon.
Julian managed a smile. “Fink ‘e’s pokin’ my tummy. ‘e does feel good but.”
“Nothing wrong with a good poke,” he said menacingly, knowing full well what to expect when he tickled Julian’s armpits.
“That’s enough of that, Peter!”
“You feel so good when you giggle,” he teased, easing back. Then, he squeezed against Julian, driving relentlessly into the slippery heat, appreciating why countless generations of English aristocrats had a fondness for boys, the younger the better.
“You’re stretchin’ me bum somethin’ awful, Peter.”
“Does it hurt?” Lord Days withdrew most of the way.
“It’s okay. Bit sore, that’s all.”
Lord Days slyly reached for Julian’s armpits again, but the nimble boy jerked back.
“You’re no fun.”
“It’s more fun bein’ naughty,” Julian rebuked, not at all sure why part of him felt so hungry. He couldn’t stop doing it, sore or not.
“No need to hurry. We’ve got all night, Sweetie.”
“Doin’ it slow is the best way of all,” Julian agreed, almost purring. “Bit deeper please, Peter.”
“You’re an oversexed little monkey, you are.”
With his hands on Julian’s bony hips, he pulled them together, nudging the end of the little rectum. It fascinated him how his boy’s penis could stay so small. It made him look sexless.
“Cos of you, I am. So ’e bummed you a lot that summer?” he teased even as he felt himself grow weaker inside. Funny how that happened—it was as if the thing inside him sucked out his energy.
“Almost nonstop when we were alone. There was one time in Scotland on his family’s estate. Every day we went hiking on the moor. We’d stop every hour or so.”
“So he could do you.” Julian smirked. The idea of doing it outdoors appealed to him much more than reality of the thistles, thorns, and cold drizzle of that afternoon. “Keep playin’ with me willy, please Peter.”
Lord Days chuckled, gently caressing fingers shifting from almost-empty pouch to droopy boy-morsel.
“Either that or I’d suck him. There was one afternoon I remember. A farmer surprised us just as he pulled out. I could barely walk afterwards; you know how it is when I pull out of you; but you should’ve seen me run. Not a stitch on either of us. Bloody gorse everywhere.”
“You was dribblin’ spunk too, I bet,” Julian giggled.
“It was the fifth time so he didn’t have much left.”
Julian didn’t believe five times in an afternoon was possible, but he didn’t say so. He burrowed his nose into Lord Day’s shoulder, anxious for what came next now that the tightening tremors were over.
“What was ‘e like then?”
“A bit snooty sometimes. My mum said he was compensating because his family originally made their money in coal. They came from Cornwall. He was always very nice to me, of course. You’ve met him. Quite often, actually.”
Julian lifted his head, insatiably curious. “That’s ‘im in the library?”
Lord Days kept a photo on the mantelpiece in the library, a pretty, flaxen-haired boy with a cricket bat slung over his shoulder, a gangly brown-haired teenager standing behind him, looking down, both in whites and wearing pads.
“I thought he was very good looking.”
Julian could tell from the photo that they shared secrets; Lord Days looked at him the same way.
“Who was ‘e? Out wiv it, Peter.”
“You have to promise you won’t tell a soul. Not a word, especially to anyone at school.”
“God’s ‘onour,” Julian sighed as his lover eased back. “Feels nice, Peter.”
“You’ve got a beautiful little bum. Juicy and not too tight, just the way a boy’s bum should be.”
Julian pushed back and Lord Days swiveled his hips to meet him, expertly satisfying both of them. His organ moved easily in and out, relishing breathy wheezes from the youngster on top and the squelchy sounds from between them. When he stopped, Julian squeezed on him, but not tightly, not like he’d been able to do earlier.
“Now tell me who bummed you?”
Lord Days hugged him and whispered, “Eric’s father.”
Julian frowned, suddenly lifting up, not believing. “Sir Robert done you?”
“He wasn’t Sir Robert back then.”
Quivering with the lust of a much older boy, he pushed back firmly, not stopping until he was properly seated on Lord Days’ groin, his lithe thighs spread wide apart. He glanced down, marveling at the contrast between his skinny smooth belly and Lord Days hairy front, the adult phallus completely hidden, his tiny penis brushing the closely clipped crotch.
“You’re makin’ it up.”
“I’m not. He bummed me every chance he had.”
“You must of ‘ad a big ‘ole?”
“I expect it was the same as yours, sexy boy.”
Julian wriggled around on Lord Days’ erection to show how big his rectum had become.
He grinned. “Liked it, din’t you?” It was strange how his penis wouldn’t get hard, not even when Lord Days played with it.
“Rather. I couldn’t get enough of his willy that summer.”
“So it fit once you got used to ‘im?”
“I used to think we were made for each other. By the end of the summer, it didn’t hurt even when it went in all the way.”
“Makes sense. Eric’s looks big, but it’s really skinny,” Julian mused. ‘e’s got a spaghetti dick.”
“A noodle sounds just like his fathers’.”
He reached behind and fiddled between them, and then from in front, exploring the shaft and where it went in. He couldn’t help smirking.
“’e feels like an eel right up inside me, Peter.” He breathed deeply, doing his best to draw it higher.
“Rather messy tonight.”
Slimy sex juice covered both sets of balls, slick flesh sucking and smacking if either of them moved. Lord Days gleefully bounced the little boy up and down, his shaft almost coming out before he stopped.
“’ow did you like it best, Peter? On your back, or bum up?” Julian couldn’t stop giggling.
“We were always outside, so I usually got down on my hands and knees.”
“And ‘e knelt behind you, doggy style, like you do wiv me in the bathtub.”
”For a couple of years I didn’t know there was any other way.”
“Is that why you like doin’ me from behind?”
“Actually, I like holding your hips while you wriggle about.”
“Can’t help it, can I? Bet you liked doggy, ‘avin’ ‘is dong right up your bum.”
“As much as you do.”
Julian’s giggle turned into a squeal as Lord Days lifted him up and dropped him back down, jerking his hips as hard as he could. He helped by pushing down firmly to drive it into him. It went deep, even deeper than lying face down with a pillow under his pelvis.
“Ow, that’s nice.”
After a few frantic moments, Lord Days hoisted him away. Julian squirmed as it surged out back, unplugging his colon. He couldn’t help glaring down.
“Sorry, Sweetie. I didn’t mean to do it as hard as that.”
“Kiddin’. You want to do it ‘ow Pat and Trev done it?”
“Might be fun.”
“I like having you on top.”
Lord Days stroked Julian‘s sides, from his armpits down to his waist, stopping when his thumbs caught the boy’s narrow hips. He lifted him up, but this time he held him there, his bulging knob just inside the stretched opening. Julian’s eyes met his. Slowly, he pressed his boy’s hips lower, easing him down his shaft until he was fully impaled again, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it before.
“I like you having on top. This way I can watch you go crazy.”
Julian rolled his eyes.
“You get all silly when you’re ready to have one; like you’re having a fit.”
“So do you. You go all dopey when you’re spunking up. What I meant was why are you frowning?”
“Oh, nothing really. I was just thinking… Rob’s the Lord Chancellor.”
“He presides over the Court of Chancery.”
“That’s worth rememberin’?” Julian smirked, his thighs tensing. He couldn’t stop trembling with it pushed all the way in.
With the shock over, he enjoyed the sensation, his buttocks squeezing, retaining the pressure for as long as he could. Lord Days squeezed back, impossible to be any deeper in his boy. “I think you’re ready for another innings, my dear.”
“What are you waitin’ for, Peter?”
“Do you really want to do it standing up?”
“You promised we’d do it ‘ow they done it.”
“I’ll have to call Sir Robert tonight.”
“What about Sir Robert?”
“The legal term, if I remember, is parens patriœ.”
“Nothing for you to worry about.” Lord Days smiled and swatted the side of Julian’s bottom, no more than a love pat between man and boy. “Anything else, my prince?”
“You always do it too gentle. Me bum wants it ‘arder,” Julian giggled.
Lord Days held Julian’s hips and thrust up his pelvis. He scarcely heard the boy gasp before he did it again. “Wants it harder, does it?”
“That’s not ’ard,” Julian disputed, smiling back, mesmerizing his lover with alluring made-in-Italy doe-eyes.
“You’re sex mad, you are. Okay then, hard and standing up it is, but you better not want a third one tonight. I’ll tell your mum if you do.”
Julian held on tightly as Lord Days started to get up. It almost escaped, but he locked his legs around Lord Days’ middle. He settled lower, pushing it back in, and then he hung there, eyes closed, disbelieving. They’d never done it like that before. It felt different, not at all like ‘doggy’, or sitting down on it, or Lord Days lying carefully on top of him, or their favorite position, on his back with his knees next to his ears.
He relaxed his grip until it almost supported his weight—like the handle of a cricket bat, it pushed straight up his colon.
“Blimey!” he gasped.
“Really in there, what?”
Julian nodded, very distracted, aching inside, squirming on the end of the flared, throbbing stake. Lord Days lifted him up and dropped him down, thrusting at the same time, driving all the way into him.
“Oh! Peter! Ow…”
“You wanted it hard,” Lord Days teased, lifting his boy up, both unable to move or it’d come out.
“Put ‘im back in.”
He eased Julian down until he was fully impaled again.
“Cor…didn’t know it would be like that,” Julian panted, clinging on for dear life.
“Want me to stop?”
“Gawd no! ‘e’s way up me, Peter.”
“Deeper than doggy?”
Julian managed a faint nod, more bewildered than ever.
Lord Days carried him around the room, bouncing with every step, both trembling, finally resting next to the antique armoire, gloomy dark walnut with elaborate carving, intricate patterns of mother-of-pearl separating each Lakes Country scene. Side on, the dressing mirror reflected their union.
“Oughta do me right ‘ere,” Julian snickered.
They watched a man pushing and pulling, a smooth-skinned little boy twitching, his fourth orgasm of the evening not far away. Then, Lord Days stepped closer, lifting Julian’s lithe leg out of the way, the mirror revealing intimate, scarcely believable detail.
“Nice view what?”
Julian giggled, hanging from Lord Days’ neck, fascinated. He’d never seen it so close, sliding in until all he could see was Lord Days’ ruddy, wrinkled-up balls.
“Ought to ‘ave us painted, Peter. The Seventh Viscount of Derwent bummin’ ‘is favourite boy,” Julian taunted, emboldened by the preoccupied little boy looking back at him.
“Hang it in the hall, what?”
Julian glanced down. Lord Days’ crimson gnarled pole stretched his hole to a thin red ribbon, splitting his glistening tiny bald globes, spunk dribbling out, squelching in, sucking out.
“Big ugly thing goes in easy, don’t ‘e?”
“When a boy’s done it as often as you have, it’s supposed to be loose,” Lord Days huffed , besotted by the boy.
“’e’s really makin’ a mess of me bum.”
“Sexy boy; that’s what happens when a man and a boy make love.”
“I’ll be poopin’ mushy peas tomorrow,” Julian grumbled, not that he minded. A really good bumming was worth a bout of diarrhea.
“Either mushy peas or pellets.”
“It’s the price what a boy pays for bein’ bummed; that’s what Mum says.”
Lord Days hugged him, resting for a while, taking off the edge as he stared at the mirror. Unbelievable, really, Julian’s slender naked body speared to the hilt and from the look on his face, clearly enjoying it.
“You’re better than a dozen West End rent-boys,” he teased.
He could see the opening where his maleness entered, no sign of an anus where his spiky pubic hair was flattened against Julian’s bottom. He withdrew until he could see a shiny, angry-red hole.
“Don’t tell no one, Peter, ” Julian cooed coyly, “but I’m one of them boys what likes bein’ fucked.”
“The best part is you love me and I love you. ”
“ ‘avin’ yer big ugly thing in my bum is the best part.”
“And I like putting it in your bum. Give me a kiss, sexy boy.”
They kissed like they did every time they had sex, pushing it in all the way, not moving down there, but wriggling their warm wet tongues instead. Julian slumped lower, his head tilted right back, his arms barely keeping him in place as his middle-aged lover sucked out his breath—had he been standing, his knees would have weakened. A minute passed, perhaps two, before their lips parted.
“Stuff’s runnin’ out, Peter.” Julian could feel it. That almost never happened until Lord Days pulled out.
“You’re full of spunk. Lots and lots of spunk. Just the way a boy should be,” Lord Days muttered.
He lifted Julian’s leg even higher, gazing between them, never happier, his manhood triumphant, fully sheathed by his catamite. In, out, slowing down, picking up speed and ramming deep, almost pulling free—he could even see the head spreading the hole from inside. Julian’s little ring almost turned inside out when that happened. He was barely a boy, his little sex organs unused and withered, not really male for as long as it lasted. He twisted and turned, making that erratic whiny sound that boys make on the brink, when they’re overwhelmed by desires that would shock their parents.
“Do it… faster… Yeah… like that. Ohhhh…. Ahhhh… Uhhhhh… Peeeteerrr….”
Lord Days chuckled. “Hold tight, Sweetie.”
“Oh! Oh! Oh Peter… Peter… Oh Gawd!” Julian was ecstatic, no longer caring if anyone heard him.
“Should’ve done it this way ages ago.”
“Do it there! Oh… Yes… Peter… Peter… There…. Ah… Ahhhh… Ahhhh.”
“Not so loud.”
“Oh Gawd! ‘arder! Do it ‘arder, Peter!”
Lord Days thrust deeply, holding Julian under the arms, raising and dropping him every few seconds while bucking his pelvis at a much faster rate, both man and boy grunting together, both incredulous that such mercilessly stabbing felt better than doing it slowly. It was so different to the way they’d always made love.
“Incredible, really,” Lord Days gasped. His phallus throbbed mercilessly, impossibly hard.
Only once it slipped out. Then, he brandished his obscenely large weapon against Julian’s slippery buttocks until he begged. Of course, he relented, but only after he tormented Julian by rubbing his hot swollen glns against the dilated hole. Together, they watched the scarlet shaft slide in and jerk back. He was more careful after that, but it didn’t stop him from pummeling the little bottom until it was covered with creamy slime. Then, when they were both very close, he delayed yet again, intending to relish the final moments. His member expanded, veins bulging. Only then, he decided he wasn’t ready to end the night. He stopped deeply embedded, squeezing his inner muscles to hold back the impending explosion.
“‘e looks like ‘agrid doin’ a ‘ouse dwarf,” Julian snickered when he got his breath back, gazing at the mirror now spotted with mucus and splatters of semen.
“Or Harry when he was little.”
“’arry done it with Snape, don’ you reckon?”
“Now and then. I expect Snape bummed Draco most of the time.”
“Cos they’re like us?”
“Young Malfoy was a pansy.”
“Like me. ‘e needed a man like you.”
It was too close for comfort.
“How about Harry doing it with Hagrid? Now, that’d be worth paying money to see.”
“You ever goin’ to finish bummin’ me?” Julian teased .
Lord Days rapidly pumped against Julian’s tiny bottom, slapping wet slippery flesh. For a while, it seemed as if his effort was wasted, as if the urgency has passed, but without more warning than a muffled whimper, Julian’s thighs clamped tightly and spasms blasted though him, one contraction after the other. Cheated of release, his frenzied shudders were like a seizure that wouldn’t end. He writhed, naked and slick with sweat, his mouth wide open, but not uttering a sound as each thrust slammed into him. He seemed in agony, but he wasn’t. It was enough to bring Lord Days to the peak only moments later.
He squirted a gob deep inside before Julian lurched again, up and down as hard as he could, a queer boy’s attempt to prolong pleasure before it ended. His erection jerked free and the next three shots sprayed Julian’s crack. Lord Days’ hands slathered through it, spreading it over Julian’s little bottom as he tried desperately to reinsert his quaking organ. The last of it drooled into his young lover’s throbbing tight tube, just a few droplets joining what was already inside him.
“Was that hard enough?” Lord Days gasped, his passion fading fast.
“You… call that… ‘ard...” Julian gasped. He smiled weakly. “Thanks to your big ugly thing, me bum’s a real mess now.”
“Nothing wrong with a boy having a spunky bum,” Lord Days agreed vaguely.
He cupped one slimy buttock in each hand, his fingers slipping through Julian’s crack, massaging around his shaft, scraping the warm fluids up to cover Julian’s back, like he’d seen Pat do, anointing his boy with his seed. It seemed strange that he’d never staked his claim like that.
“Proves you love me, that does,” Julian smirked, trying to see over his shoulder.
“I do love you, especially when you’re all spunky inside.”
“And outside too. It’s nice ‘aving your stuff on me.”
Lord Days clutched Julian to him as the thrill waned, waiting for the inevitable expulsion. It came slowly, exhausted boy-muscles closing up, inevitably pushing his spongy knob back until it plopped out, scattering beige beads on the sheepskin rug. Only then, his thoughts returned to what he’d been thinking about earlier. He grinned as he carried Julian back to the bed. He spread out the towel before lowering Julian onto it. Then, he opened the champagne.
“I think we’ve got a reason to celebrate,” he said filling the glass.
“’cos we cummed at the same time?” Julian grinned cheekily.
He touched his tender gaping hole and inspected his fingers, rubbing his thumb through cream-colored muck, sniffing the slick mucus that oozed from inside him. He wiped it off on the towel.
“We did, but I wasn’t thinking of that. Remember when I said ‘parens patriœ’?”
Julian shrugged sleepily, took a sip of champagne, smacked his lips, and handed the glass back. His bottom burned and it itched just inside him, but he resisted scratching. Like the urge to poop, it sometimes went away by itself.
“It means Her Majesty’s protector of the interests of all minor subjects,” Lord Days explained.
Julian nodded as if he understood, wondering if it was Cornish miners that Lord Days was talking about, not at all sure if he needed to use the bathroom, but it was getting quite damp under his bottom.
“I’m really full of your babies now,” he announced with a grin.
“Then, we better get married right away or your mum will be angry.”
Julian giggled. “Okay.”
“The important thing about ‘parens patriœ’ is the exercise of guardianship devolves upon the Court of Chancery,” Lord Days went on.
Julian nodded doubtfully as Lord Days went over to the seat where his jacket lay over the armrest. He took out his cell phone and a little silver ring before came back to the bed. He handed over the ring before he punched in numbers.
“Peter Days for Sir Robert?”
Then, he waited, his hand over the phone, bemused as Julian pressed the ring against the top of his penis, pushing back his foreskin and exposing his little helmet. He relocated what little excess skin there was to the other side of the ring before he glanced up.
“How’s my sexy boy?” Lord Days whispered.
“Really stretched me bum ‘ole, you did Peter.”
Julian rolled back, bringing his knees to his shoulders, holding his cheeks apart. His hole was puffy, still opened up, showing crimson inside. It gurgled when he tightened, enough that he quickly dabbed a handful of towel between his buttocks.
“It is rather big, isn’t it?”
Julian inspected the soiled towel, made a wry face, and crumpled it before dabbing it between his buttocks again. “Messy stuff spunk.”
“Not going to hurt you, but if you were a girl, we’d have a problem in nine months.”
“Why are you callin’ Eric’s dad?”
“He’s the Lord Chancellor, the paramount guardian. You need to use the toilet?”
“Don’t fink so…. Can we snog for a while, Peter?”
“Let me finish this phone call, Honey. Rob? It’s Peter. How are you?”
Julian put the towel aside and lay down, his hand wedged in his crack, one fingertip protruding into the gaping hole, hoping that Lord Days wouldn’t talk for too long.
“I’ve decided not to accept the position,” Lord Days intoned, watching Julian with fatherly devotion. “I’ve had a chance to think it through. It’s a bit complicated…. Rather. Yes, there’s a problem. Yes, it involves Julian…. I know I can’t take him with me… Yes, he’s very charming…. Dirty sod! So is Martin…. But yes, of course we do. I love him a great deal, Rob. He’s the reason I’m turning it down…”
“Peter, do it again if I fall asleep; if you want,” Julian offered. He yawned, suddenly sleepy.
Lord Days beamed. “You heard him? Um… No…. Not bloody likely… Just finished…. Twice. You haven’t changed…. I haven’t forgotten. Just the same… Listen, I do have a thought that might change the situation…. Not that. I’d like to adopt him… Yes, he’s like your Eric in that respect… I agree, and I’d like nothing better, but I’m afraid he already has an admirer….Ted Sparey… Really? Then, I have a proposition…”
Julian was already dreaming when Lord Days got into bed again. His dream had something to do with Lord Days going away, but he’d never remember. He was in the tithe barn at Derwent Hall, kneeling on a hay bale, doggy style so Lord Days could lick his behind and not get his wizard robe dirty. Then, Lord Days undressed and carried him to a great pile of straw, and there was a white owl, like Harry’s, perched in the rafters overhead, watching Lord Days penetrate him. He was sure he could feel it slide in and out, getting faster and faster until it finally stopped. The best part was it stayed there afterwards.
“Why do I ‘ave to see the doctor?” Julian demanded for the eighth time since leaving the hotel.
Lord Days took a deep breath. “I want to make sure you’re alright, that’s all.”
“I am alright!”
“You said your bum hurt this morning.”
“It’s just sore from your big ugly thing,” Julian whispered with a defiant scowl.
He barely remembered being woken up in the middle of the night, drifting in and out of sleep as his bottom was ravished. The funny thing was he was sure it was more than one time.
Reluctantly, he followed Lord Days up the stone stairs and into the small parlour that served as a waiting room. While Lord Days spoke to the receptionist, he slouched against the window sill, moodily ignoring the view of Derwent Water, sparking water surrounded by towering mountains. The view was almost identical to the picture on the front of his box of coloured pencils.
Lord Days came over. “I’m glad I called for an appointment. He’ll see us right away.” He took Julian’s hand, lowered his head, and added, “There’s no need to worry, my brave sexy boy.”
Julian grumbled under his breath as they went down the corridor. The examination room had once been a maid’s bedroom, the tiny window curtained against prying eyes. With only a chair and a stool, Lord Days sat down with Julian perched on his knee.
“I spoke to your mum last night,” Lord Days began, unable to hold back his excitement a moment longer.
However, Julian shrugged sullenly. “You told ‘er I didn’t want you leavin’ me ‘ere, didn’t you?”
“We talked about it. She said I ought to adopt you and take you with me.”
“Told you, didn’t I? Do I ‘ave to get a shot?”
“Yes, you did.” Lord Days smiled and stroked Julian’s girly curls from his forehead. “And no, you don’t, not as far as I know anyway. She wanted to know if you were having a good time. I told her you were exhausted. She guessed it wasn’t from hiking.”
Julian scowled again, trying hard to be angry. Instead, he blinked away tears and murmured, “I love you, Peter.”
“I love you too.” Lord Days would have said more, but the doctor knocked before entering.
Pat discreetly locked the door behind him, placed a folder on the table, and sat on the stool. He feasted his eyes. Julian was at that age when boys wore shorts. He had thin, well-muscled legs, knobby knees, and slim baby-smooth thighs that challenged his self-control.
“Everything okay I hope?” he asked.
Julian exchanged his puckered brow for a rueful smile, amused that this man in a white, crisp smock was the same man he’d observed on the hill dressed in Cumbrian sweater and Wellington boots.
“He needs a proper going over, Pat. Not just the matter we talked about on the phone. It’s a good chance for him to have a proper checkup. Make sure everything’s in good working order,” Lord Days replied obscurely.
Pat winked at Julian, who gave a shy smile. “Don’t know why it wouldn’t be. Little boys stretch rather easily. Of course, that depends on how often you shag him. He’s such a sexy lad, I’d be surprised if his bum wasn’t constantly sore.”
Julian reddened on cue. Lord Days merely smiled.
Pat chuckled. “That answers that, I’d say. Well then, get him naked while I start the paperwork.” Pat opened the folder and took out a sheaf of forms: National Health Form D for emotional health of a child five to ten, Form IHA-C initial health assessment of a child, three consent forms….
“Full name and date of birth?” he began.
Lord Days always delighted in undressing Julian. Under normal conditions, he would have savoured his boy’s immature body like an exceptional port, taking his time and relishing the flavours with every item removed: windbreaker jacket, mud-smeared boots, sky-blue London Zoo tee shirt, American style khaki shorts with surplus pockets; but he’d never stripped his boy in front of someone else, not even his mother. Needless to say, he became aroused, instantly and painfully erect. He fumbled with reluctant buttons and quickly gave up on undoing knotted shoelaces with little feet still inside.
Being nearly naked in front of an almost-stranger affected Julian too. He was nervous and excited at the very same time, his trembling made worse by it being a little chilly in the room and the unsettling realization that his face had become very hot.
“Very nice,” Pat observed, glancing up all of a sudden. “What happened to your knee?”
“Fell off me bike, didn’t I?”
“Hyde Park last Sunday. He was going too fast,” Lord Days said, not adding why they were racing.
“There was blood everywhere,” Julian said proudly, although he’s cried at the time.
“No broken bones?” Pat teased.
“Luckily, he landed on his head.” Lord Days smiled at his boy, who frowned back, ego still very much intact.
Pat looked Julian up and down. “Those may be the sexiest underpants I’ve ever seen, but they have to come off, I’m afraid. He can keep his socks.”
With that, Lord Days finished the undressing show, a quick jerk on the red boy-bikini, taking it all the way down to Julian’s feet.
“Looks like someone’s willy is ready to have fun,” Pat teased, licking his lips and sounding not at all like a doctor.
Julian shuffled his feet, kicking off his briefs, not looking down, a certain part of him already sticking out rudely. He could feel their eyes on him, fixed on his boyhood, the swollen button-head peeking through its collar like a frightened fawn.
“He tends to get a bit red sometimes,” Lord Days admitted guiltily. He’d paid homage again after a hearty breakfast of grilled sausage and two eggs.
“He looks like a healthy young boy to me. Once a lad discovers what his willy’s for, it doesn’t take long for it to look like his,” Pat joked. He put down his pen, Form D uncompleted, and leaned closer. “He’s rather loose on the end,” he observed as if something was wrong.
“I use a ring to keep it pushed back at night.”
“Good for you. Much better for him than chopping it off.” Then, he winked. “I’d say it gets plenty of exercise.”
“He’s addicted to wanking,” Lord Days quipped.
“Am not!” Julian retorted.
“Don’t know why not. That’s a nice willy you’ve got, young man. Just right for wanking. Six centimeters at a guess?”
Lord Days, who was of the Imperial school confirmed, “Two and a half inches exactly.”
“Something that big ought to be wanked as often as he’s on the compter.”
Lord Days laughed. “It’s still too tender, but I’m sure it won’t be much longer.”
“Turn around please, Julian.”
Julian looked warily at Lord Days, who nodded. Cautiously, he turned, stopping with his back to the doctor. He felt their eyes on him.
“I’ve never been partial to boys with pinched bums. Give me a nice round bottom any day,” Pat remarked, all but salivating.
Lord Days smiled. “Especially a small bum, eh?”
“The smaller the better. Very nice indeed. When was the last time?”
“Before we got up.”
Pat leaned closer, carefully parted Julian’s buttocks, blew gently, and frowned. “Seven months you said last night.”
“Nothing really. You’ve bummed him a lot more than I expected, that’s all,” he observed bluntly.
“’ow can you tell?” Julian squeaked.
“After a boy’s been with a man, there are signs afterwards.”
“There ain’t no signs cos I pooped out ‘is mess this mornin’.”
“For starters, you’re red in the crack. That’s inflammation from his penis rubbing against your bottom.”
”’s always like that,” Julian grumbled, giving Lord Days a sour look.
“Trev calls it cock burn. It’s normal for a boy’s bum to be a bit raw for a while.”
“It don’t stay ‘ot for long, just till it gets tight again.”
“After it tightens up, does it feel sore around your hole?”
Julian glanced at Lord Days, who nodded for both of them.
“That’s normal too. A little boy can have sex quite easily because his muscles aren’t very strong, but his anus still gets stretched.”
“’cos ‘is thing’s so big?”
“If you do it once or twice a week, no one can tell the difference after a couple of days, but if you do it every day the insides of your buttocks become darker,” Pat explained.
“So mine’s dark?”
“Rather,” he said, lightly touching Julian’s anus.
What should’ve been tightly puckered was actually furrowed, tiny wrinkles that had turned into puffy ripples, some quite pink and easily mistaken for hemorrhoids if a person didn’t know better.
“Would you bend over the examination table, please?”
“It’s okay, Sweetie,” Lord Days said, adding a gentle push.
Julian awkwardly stepped closer. The edge of the table pressed into his hips. He leaned forward, placing his front on the sheet. Pat rolled his chair closer and placed his hands on Julian’s bottom, parting his cheeks wide to examine more closely.
“A little bit,” Julian admitted, ruefully wishing they’d gone for another walk after breakfast instead of a visit to the doctor.
“You know it’s a crime for me not to report this?” Pat said, opening him up with his thumbs on either cheek and testing the smooth red funnel with a carefully placed fingertip.
Lord Days’ face flushed. “I thought….”
“After what you saw on the fells yesterday, I’m the last person you need to worry about. You ought to see Trev’s bum; just like this only bigger. His hole looks like a Pakistani’s,” Pat chuckled. “This morning, eh?”
“About seven, before we went for a walk before breakfast.”
“He’s rather relaxed for a couple of hours,” he said, leaning back so the Lord Days could see his boy’s enlarged anus.
“Is it a problem?”
“He ought to be tighter by now. There’s a slight chance the sphincter function is permanently impaired when a boy starts so young. Most times, it’s just slow to close up if he’s done it too much.”
“I err… after dinner we did it twice… it went longer than normal…harder too… I might’ve been too rough with him. Plus during the night... a couple of times,” Lord Days admitted, guilt departed long ago.
“Knew you would,” Julian sniggered.
“If he’s already stretched, a good bumming while he’s asleep is not going to hurt him.”
“I’m not doing it too much, then?”
“If he wants you to, there’s no such thing as too much.”
“’e means ‘iking, Peter,” Julian guffawed.
“Assuming there’s no permanent damage, the worst thing is he might leak afterwards,” Pat chuckled. Julian blushed and looked sideways at Lord Days. “Messy sometimes, is it?”
“’is stuff runs out in me underpants.”
“He’s rather loose sometimes.”
Pat glanced at Lord Days. “So long as he’s closed up by morning tea, I wouldn’t worry too much. It won’t hurt a boy his age to be dilated for a while.”
“What’s that mean?” Julian muttered.
“Once a boy starts having sex his bum-hole gets stretched; quite a lot when he’s as small as you. And the more he does it, the longer it stays open. It gets especially big if his partner’s well endowed.”
“Well and down, now that really ‘elps.”
“Well-endowed; it means he’s got a big cock.”
“That’s not ‘im!” Julian mocked. “Tiny little thing, ‘e ‘as! Don’t ‘ardly feel it,” he added, looking back over his shoulder.
“I might be wrong about those bruises. When a boy’s as cocky as he is, it usually means he’s not getting rooted often enough.”
Lord Days laughed. “And I thought it was because we were doing it too much.”
“A sexy boy like him should be bummed at least twice a day.”
“I’ll try my best, Doctor.”
“Just be careful. I wouldn’t want the school nurse to see his bottom. They’re trained to spot abuse nowadays.” Pat opened the drawer in the desk and removed a tube of KY. “I’ll need to have a feel around inside his rectum, I’m afraid. It’s the only way to check the condition without using a vaginal scope, and I don’t think he’d like me to do that,” he explained.
Lord Days smirked. “Be my guest. Maybe it’ll teach him some manners.”
Julian would have pulled away, but Lord Days gripped his shoulders.
“I’m sure you know how to relax back here,” Pat instructed as he poked his slippery forefinger at Julian’s clenched opening.
He rotated his wrist, expertly twisting his finger like a corkscrew until it was halfway in. It wasn’t long before Julian gave up the battle.
“That’s better. His anus stretches easily, but nothing of the ordinary, considering. Not hurting is it, Julian?”
Julian shook his head, giving Lord Days another contemptuous look.
“I left the dog in the car. Maybe I ought to check on her,” Lord Days chuckled.
“Don’t you dare.” Julian growled.
The expression on his young lover amused him, but it excited him too. Julian was naked except for soccer socks, with another man’s finger inserted between his firm little buttocks. Lord Days leaned into the examination table, his penis growing quickly as Pat eased his finger all the way in, stopping when he could go no farther. Julian wriggled uncomfortably.
“Walls feel smooth and flexible. No hemorrhoids. Everything’s a bit loose, but that’s to be expected when a lad’s sexually active. Now, where’s that prostate?”
Smirking at Lord Days, he purposefully prodded the immature love-gland.
“Tender eh? It always fascinates me how something so small can make a boy feel so good. Trev’s the same way. It’s nice and firm underneath though. How does that feel?
“Uuh… ahhhh… okay I guess.”
Julian gasped. “Ow. Please… don’t! Make him stop, Peter. Ahhhh… Please.”
“He’s responsive. See how he’s pushing back. He’s had plenty of orgasms when you’re in him, I bet?”
“Just about every time. Usually more than one.”
“I’m not surprised. He’s very sensitive.“ Pat carefully moved his finger back and forth, testing the limits of Julian’s rectum. “Of course, most boys are at his age. It’s a good reason to bum a boy while he’s young, plus his muscles aren’t very strong. It more than makes up for him being smaller.”
“Plenty of energy too,” Lord Days quipped.
“I want you to squeeze as hard as you can, Julian. That’s right; tighten up inside. Excellent sphincter tone. Any problems I need to know about?”
“None that I can think of,” Lord Days replied, swallowing and licking dry lips.
“He’s already much looser,” Pat observed, expertly diddling Julian’s gland until the boy wriggled back. “He definitely enjoys being bummed, I’d say. Has he started asking for it harder?”
Lord Days nodded.
“They all do, some sooner, some later. I think Julian’s big enough that you could if you wanted. A proper bumming wouldn’t hurt him. Not every time, of course, but every so often, say once or twice a week.”
“I worry I’m doing it too hard as it is.”
“You’d be surprised how much force a young boy can take and still enjoy it. Just don’t go in too deep.”
He withdrew his finger as Julian tensed suddenly, manipulating the quivering anus instead, although he was sorely tempted to add another finger and try for a climax.
“Best go right to the horse’s mouth. Julian, does it still hurt when he goes in all the way?” He pushed his finger back into Lord Days’ protégé.
Julian shook his head again, and then shrugged off the lie. It was very confusing having another man’s finger buried inside him, even if he was a doctor. He shifted awkwardly as the finger moved around again. It was different than Peter’s finger, not nearly as nice, but it still knew exactly where to press.
“Sometimes it’s sore when ‘e tries to make a baby inside me,” he said nervously.
The doctor winked at Lord Days. “It has to go in a long way to do that.”
“You and Trev try to make a baby too?”
“We did when Trev was your age. Most boys like to pretend when the man’s penis goes in deep.”
“It’s sore when ‘e does it.”
“The soreness comes from your colon being stressed.”
“It hurts when ‘e bottoms out, just the first time or two. Then, it kind of throbs, but it goes away after a while.”
“That’s a bend where your rectum ends and the colon takes over. It can be painful getting it past that point.”
“Why’s it ‘urt but?”
“His penis straightens out your colon when it goes in that far, that’s all.
“It won’t ‘urt me, will it?”
“It won’t hurt you if he’s careful. He needs to do it gently and take his time until you’re used to it. Is there any bleeding afterwards? A lot of boys do when they have sex with a man.”
“There hasn’t been more than a few spots since the first month,” Lord Days replied. “Usually, it’s after I’ve been away for a few days. I make a point of getting him ready.”
“Lots of foreplay beforehand is the best thing you can do for a boy his age, even when he’s as loose as he is.” Pat nodded, gently sawing his finger in and out. “Squeeze down again, Julian. Harder. Try to push it out. Okay, that’s enough.” He nodded at Lord Days. “He’s exactly where he should be. There’s plenty of room in his rectum and his anus is just right.”
“Not too loose, is it?”
“Better loose than tight for a boy like him. The important thing is he has plenty of sphincter pressure. You’ve broken him in very nicely. Best to keep him loosened up like this now he’s used to it.”
“I’ve been thinking I should get him something for when we’re not having sex?”
“He ought to use a dildo if you’re going to be apart for more than a day or two. Not too big, about the thickness of a candle ought to do it.”
“It’s okay then, wiv a candle, I mean?”
“A candle’s what Trev uses back in London. It’s easy to hide and the wax won’t hurt you so long as it’s clean.”
“So I should do me bum wiv one when ‘e’s away?”
“Boys tend to leave them in too long so more than 15 minutes a night. Regular exercise is the trick.” He withdrew his finger slowly. Milky slime covered it. He winked at Lord Days and wiped it off on a paper towel. “Do you mind if I ask how often?”
“We generally do it every night when we’re home, right before he goes to sleep. When we’re away, a couple of times a day if we can fit it in.”
“No wonder inserting my finger was so easy,” Pat quipped. “Once a day is much better for him than rooting like rabbits every couple of weeks like Trev and I do. I wouldn’t worry about being too rough with him. He’s big enough that you could probably do it quite hard and not hurt him.” He dabbed the paper towel into Julian’s crack. “You like being bummed, Sport?”
“Messy sometimes though, isn’t it? Turn around and let’s see the rest of you. There’s nothing wrong with his blood pressure. Trev likes to roll up a bit of toilet paper. He sticks it up himself afterwards.”
“So ‘e don’t mess ‘is undies,” Julian muttered, looking down as the doctor stroked his stubby erection.
“What makes it messy back there, do you think?”
“’is spunk, mostly.” Julian stole a glance at Lord Days’ crotch and smirked. “And the stuff ‘e uses to make me bum slippery, I s’pose. There’s other stuff too. Really slimy it is…”
“That’s mucus from inside you. It’s there to lubricate the intestinal track. Quite normal for it to come out during sex. Men and boys having sex is fun, but it can be rather gross.”
Julian grinned at Lord Days as the doctor pulled back his foreskin.
“The thing is, Julian, when a boy has sex with a man, he has to be very careful, especially with all the fuss on the tellie about child abuse.“
“I know to keep me mouth shut, Sir.”
“I’m sure you do. Trev had lots of questions when he was your age.”
Julian nodded and chewed on his bottom lip. “Means I’m queer, don’ it? If I like bein’ bummed ‘n all?”
“At your age, it’s hard to be sure, but if you enjoy doing it, that’s usually a sign you won’t like girls in a couple of years.”
“Me mum says that too.”
“Not to worry; you’ll have more fun with Peter.” The doctor gave his penis a playful squeeze. “I want you to sit on the table.”
Julian climbed into position, awkwardly looking at Lord Days as the doctor prodded his lower belly.
“If you have more questions I’d be happy to answer them. No need to be embarrassed with me.”
“Peter says lots of boys are queer,” Julian began doubtfully.
“He’s right. Many are.”
“All my friends tell homo jokes.”
“Boys can be cruel. The best thing is not tell them, or pretend you like girls to cover it up. Legs apart like you’re riding the horsey,” Pat joked. “Do you know any boys at school who might be gay?”
“Eric,” Julian replied without hesitating, not even glancing down as the doctor’s fingers inspected his penis, again pulling the foreskin right back.
“How can you tell?”
“Um… cos ’e’s like me.” Julian giggled. “Only ’e fancies a teacher.”
Pat raised an eyebrow, openly fondling the very-erect little organ. Julian looked down.
“Don’t mind me; I’m just checking the plumbing. What about Eric makes you think he’s that way?”
“Eric’s always carryin’ on. Shows ‘im ‘is willy, ‘e does.”
“If he’s your age and he’s already doing that, he’s probably gay. Sexy boy, is he?”
“Master Sparey finks so,” Julian snickered, nervous even though he was used to being masturbated.
“He’s a good looking lad,” Lord Days added. “Tall for his age and a bit effeminate, but he’s a real little charmer.”
“Gives ‘im the eye, Master Sparey does. ‘e’s always touchin’ ‘im. I don’t fink e’s bummed ‘im though.”
“He sounds like my kind of teacher. Anyone else?”
“Martin. ‘e jokes about bumming; ‘e does, but ‘e lives wiv two men what adopted ‘im. Peter says they’re both going to do him when he turns nine.”
“He’ll be a busy boy by the sound of it. You don’t mind me rubbing your penis, do you Julian?”
Julian pretended he hadn’t heard, now more self-conscious than nervous because both Pat and Lord Days stared at his middle, the doctor’s hand steadily moving up and down, his penis confidently held between a finger and thumb.
“Does he always get this stiff?”
Lord Days chuckled. “He leaves bruises on me when he wakes up in the morning.”
“Lucky lad. Do you think Eric’ll like getting bummed?” Pat asked as he retracted Julian’s foreskin again and inspected the head, squeezing gently.
“Dunno. ‘e might. Peter says most boys like bein’ bummed, but they don’t like to admit it.”
“Very true. There’s nothing wrong with it, you know. Boys have been bummed since time began. It doesn’t hurt them, not really. Most boys enjoy it after the first couple of times.”
“ Especially if he likes the man what’s doin’ it.” He smirked at Lord Days.
“Men and boys making love is nothing to be ashamed about. Still it’s best to be careful. Silly to tell anyone, really.”
“Me mum said people ought to mind their own business.”
Pat glanced up. “She’s right about that.”
“She told me I can be naughty wiv Peter if I want, so long as I don’ stay up too late, but I’m not to tell no one cos’ it’s none of their business.”
Lord Days and Pat exchanged knowing glances.
“I take it you like being naughty with him?” Pat inquired with a smirk.
“What’s not to like?”
“Are you sure he’s not making spunk?” Pat laughed, tugging gently on Julian’s scrotum, his tiny testes like beans rolling about in the velvet pouch dangling under his lever-like penis.
“Peter says boys don’t ‘ave it till they’re 12. Why you doin’ that for?” Julian demanded as the doctor picked up calipers with a ruler attached.
“I’m just making checking the size of your testicles. What’s it say on the ruler?”
Julian looked down. “Ten. ‘ow big are Trev’s?”
“Twenty five the last time I measured then. It’s been years since his testicles were as small as yours. You’re a bit on the tiny side, but not to worry. One thing’s certain, he won’t be starting puberty any time soon,“ he said to Lord Days before turning back to Julian, who looked distraught. “Doesn’t hurt, does it?”
“No sir. Feels nice… sort of.” Julian blushed.
“Just make sure you wear a cup playing sports. You don’t want them hurt even when they’re this small.”
Julian grinned at Lord Days. “’e’s more worried about me willy getting’ cut off when I’m fencing.”
“Be a pity that would. You’ve got the nicest willy I’ve seen in ages. Deep breath and cough. And again. Good boy! How about you? Do you like being bummed?”
“It’s okay, except me bum itches after. Why’s it do that?”
“You use a water-based lube, I assume?” Pat asked Lord Days, who promptly confirmed with a nod. “It might be his semen. It can irritate your rectum if it’s left in too long.”
“Having my spunk in your bum might make it itchy,” Lord Days explained.
“Usually it’s not a problem,” Pat added. “Of course, a lot of it will mess up your bowel movements.”
“No shit,” Julian snickered.
“Rather the opposite, but it sounds like you’re used to that part of it,” Pat chuckled. “All quite normal for a sexy boy like you. Try getting his spunk out as soon as you can. A good poop afterwards, and then rinse out your bum with warm water; that should stop the itch.”
“That’ll be your job, Peter,” Julian giggled.
“I don’t mean give him an enema. It’s a bad habit for a boy to get into,” Pat explained. “Get a douche kit; any chemist will have them. You want the squeeze kind with a long rubber nozzle. In and rinse out.” He turned to Julian. “I want you to be honest with me. Sometimes a man’s willy can hurt a boy…”
Julian nodded, glancing at Lord Days, still uncomfortable about sharing their secret.
“Most people think it’s always painful for a boy, but it’s not. The first few times, those are almost always bad…”
“Cos it’s so tight?”
“That’s most of it. It takes a while for a boy to get used to it, but after that...”
”It goes in like a ‘ot knife through butter,” Julian finished, smiling at Lord Days.
“Do you like it now?” Pat asked.
“It’s okay, I suppose,” Julian murmured, still unable to say it was fun, or that it made him shaky all over.
“So it doesn’t hurt?”
“When ‘e’s in really deep, it sort of ‘urts like I told you, but it goes away quickly,” Julian admitted, with a quick glance at Lord Days.
“Sounds like you’re over the worst of it. You were lucky you were bummed when you were. A lot of boys wait till their teens to find out what’s it’s like, so it hurts them a lot more.”
“’ow old was Trev?”
“He’d just turned nine. You think that’s too young?”
Julian shrugged. “I'm nine . If a boy wants to do it, why not?”
“People don’t want to talk about it, but there are plenty of boys your age who love being bummed.”
“Me mum says for some boys it’s like ducks to water, right Peter?” Julian snickered.
“It was for you,” Lord Days chuckled.
Pat looked Julian over. “Fencing you said at dinner? It keeps him fit, doesn’t it?” he observed, squeezing Julian’s slim firm thigh.
“I practice three times a week.”
“Good for you! Too many fat boys nowadays. It’s not much fun in bed when a lad’s overweight.”
“Mum says it’s too many sweets,” Julian parroted.
“Bad diet all round and not enough exercise. A boy needs to take care of his body.”
“Especially when he’s being bummed on a regular basis,” Lord Days added.
“About his itch, I want you to add a quarter teaspoon of Epsom salts to the douche.”
“What kind of salt?” Julian demanded.
“Peter knows,” Pat laughed. “And put some zinc oxide or hydrocortisone on his anus afterwards if it still bothers him. Okay, now bend over and touch your toes, or as Trev says, ‘assume the position.’”
Pat playfully swatted Julian’s rump. “Don’t worry. I’m done with your cute little bum for today, though I doubt Peter is.”
They emerged into feeble sun and a brisk wind off the lake, skirting puddles together.
“You promised no shots, Peter,” Julian said, ruefully rubbing his shoulder.
“Sorry, dear boy. I didn’t know, did I?”
Lord Days clutched an oversized manila envelope in one hand and Julian’s hand with the other to run across the busiest street in Keswick. Dozens of Saturday morning shoppers’ cars streamed past before there was a break. They squeezed through a horde of tourists waiting outside McBlain’s Lakes District Bus Tours to get to the Aston, not a moment too soon as a policewoman checked the meter. She waved good-naturedly and moved on, her ticket book at the ready.
“Do we ‘ave to go back to London now the sun’s come out?” Julian grumbled.
Lord Days opened the car door on the passenger side, keeping one hand on the spaniel’s collar as Julian got in. He made sure that Julian’s seatbelt was securely fastened despite the dog licking both of them.
“It’s only a temporary reprieve from the drizzle, plus the Queen’s business calls,” he explained after he started the engine.
Julian stopped hugging the dog and wiped drool on his shorts. “You accepted, din’t you?”
“Subject to some pre-conditions that Sir Robert and I need to work out this evening. He’s bringing Eric with him so you’ll have someone to play Angry Birds with.”
“Rather stay ‘ere and play wiv your big ugly thing, wouldn’t I?”
He blinked tears and chafed at his crotch as the Aston launched into a gap in the traffic.
“I can’t believe you’re still hard.”
“Course it’s ‘ard, silly. Can’t ‘elp it, can I? You ‘ad one too.”
“Soon as I saw those red unders. Pat thought they were sexy too.’
“’e ‘ad a stiffy?” He hadn’t been sure because of the medical smock.
“He would’ve bummed you in a jiffy if I wasn’t there.”
“Dirty sod!” Julian ruffled the spaniel’s ears, still rubbing his boy-bump. “You liked it when ‘e stuck ‘is finger up me bum.”
“Might’ve, but not as much as you did. The important thing is he gave you a clean bill of health so you won’t need to see a doctor in London.”
Lord Days concentrated on driving out of Keswick, stealing peeks, his boy impulsively kneading his groin, but he wasn’t masturbating, just rubbing on habit. They listened to Saturday morning talk shows on the BBC, halfway to the motorway before they talked again.
“What Pat said, you know ‘bout me using a candle. I’ll use one while you’re gone…” Julian paused. “Mummy gave me one that time you went to Brussels wivout me.”
“’For when the sleepin’ ‘rangements weren’t to my likin’, that’s what she said.”
Lord Days had to laugh. When he got his breath back he turned down the radio. “Trust me; the sleeping arrangements won’t be a problem.”
He promptly turned off the road and into a parking area overlooking the lake far below.
“We need to talk for a moment,” he began.
“At least you won’t ‘ave to worry about me bum being too loose.”
“Pat took a load off my shoulders when he said it’s normal for a boy who does it as much as you do.”
“I don’t fink last night ‘elped,” Julian giggled. “It was fun but, wasn’t it Peter?”
“The best part was watching it go in and out.”
“You liked doin’ it ‘arder too; admit it.”
“I did, but we’ll keep it for special occasions.” Lord Days took a deep breath. “I love you Julian. I know I say it all the time, but I really do mean it.”
“I don’ want you to go away. I don’ want to use some dumb candle, Peter,” Julian muttered.
Realizing it was going to take a lot longer than he’d imagined, Lord Days put the Aston in ‘park’ and turned off the motor.
“Julian, Honey, remember at dinner when we were talking about boys and men getting married? Let’s pretend for a moment, okay? If we could get married, would you like to be Julian Days?”
“Would it be like what Pat said? Sharing the same bed and bein’ naughty and all like we was ‘usband and wife.”
“If we wanted.”
Julian grinned. “Rather you ‘dopted me. And we wouldn’t ‘ave to pretend neither.”
“But if we did pretend, would you like to get married?”
He hesitated, not at all sure he wasn’t being make fun of, so he shrugged ambivalently.
“You ‘ave to ask me properly, Peter, like they do on the telly” Julian said saucily.
Lord Days chuckled. “You realize that if I do, and you say yes, we’ll be engaged”
“So stop muckin’ about and ask me.”
Lord Days promptly cleared his throat. “Julian, dearest, most beautiful, most wonderful boy in the world; will you do me the great honour of becoming my…” He almost said ‘wife’, but it didn’t sound right. “… my boy?”
Julian’s expression was somewhere between deadly serious and nine-year-old mocking. “Yes Peter.”
“What if we weren’t pretending and we really could get married?”
“If it means I’ll be the Eighth Viscount of Derwent?”
“I’ll adopt you for that. But you mean it, right?” Lord Days asked nervously.
Julian beamed brightly. “There’s probably worse things than bein’ married to you.” He hesitated until Lord Days scowled. “Yes, Peter. Yes. Yes. Yes,” he giggled.
“All we need now is a ring.”
Just then, the spaniel tried to scramble into Julian’s seat, wanting attention. Lord Days pushed her back where she belonged.
“I think I know just the thing,” he muttered. He unfastened Lizzie’s collar and removed the brass ring. “Perfect!” he declared.
Of course, he would’ve much preferred 24 carat gold studded with brilliant diamonds, but the color was right, and the ring did have a battered antique look, like a family heirloom or something a pirate might use on a cabin boy.
“For a gorilla’s finger maybe.” Julian snickered, holding out his hand.
“Not going on your finger, is it?”
“Take your pants down,” Lord Days ordered, polishing the ring on his trousers.
“You goin’ to play wiv ‘im while we’re on the motorway?”
“Very likely if the traffic’s not too heavy, but this’ll be on your willy.” He held it out.
“It’s too big for me willy, silly,” Julian giggled, disbelieving but opening his fly anyway.
He unfastened the button and hurriedly shoved down his shorts and red briefs, all the way to his ankles, furtively looking out the side window at a grocery truck rumbling past.
“We’ll be engaged after this, my dear,” Lord Days muttered as he leaned over.
The ring dropped down Julian’s shaft—even at the much wider base it was still loose. Julian was about to say so when Lord Days squashed his scrotum.
“There! It’s snug enough that it won’t be coming off any time soon,” Lord Days pointed out after he poked the first testicle through.
Julian hadn’t expected that and couldn’t stop giggling, wriggling in his seat and not really helping. It was an awkward position and it didn’t help matters that his penis was stubbornly erect. The other little boy-egg kept escaping, Lord Days trying to push it under the thick band without squeezing too hard.
“Stop messin’ about and do it, Peter.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. We might have to wait until your willy goes down. Keep your knees apart, there’s a good boy. Now, stay still for a moment.”
He’d never used as much force on his boy’s tender parts. Finally, the reluctant testicle popped under the ring to join its mate.
Lord Days quickly lifted his hand and they looked together, both feeling strange.
“I’m your boy now. I love you so much, Peter,” Julian whispered in awe.
“I love you, Julian,” Lord Days said affectionately, carefully rearranging Julian’s silky pouch so it hung neatly through the ring.
“The ring’s really nice, Peter.”
“It looks very sexy.’
Julian lightly stroked his scrotum. “My balls feel all tingly.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Lord Days smiled.
“My willy feels funny.” He touched his penis, tiny veins starting to show under the delicate skin. “It’s getting really hard.”
“Supposed to.” Lord Days took quick breaths, staring down, wondering why he’d never thought to do it before.
“It’s getting darker.”
“Really sexy.” Lord Days licked his lips.
“Can I show Mum when we get home?”
“If you must. No one else though, not unless I say it’s alright.”
“I know it’s a game, but I want to be Julian Days,” Julian muttered, looking up nervously.
“As my son, or my boy-wife?”
“Both,” he said shyly. “If I’m your boy-wife, we ‘ave to sleep together every night, don’ we Peter?”
“Would you like that?”
“You’d never leave me alone if we did,” Julian snickered.
“You poor little bum will be sore.”
“From your big ugly thing,” Julian finished. “Can we kiss, Peter?”
“If you must…” Lord Days pretended reluctance.
He leaned over to meet Julian’s puckered lips, both searching each other’s eyes. They kissed lovingly, repeating their very first kiss in Lord Days' library. It was chaste, just brushing lips, with their arms wrapped tightly around the other. But it lasted much longer than it had in the library, and the hug was much harder, and Lord Days’ hand found its way onto Julian’s treasure. The little boy-toy was bloated, throbbing as Julian’s heat beat faster.
“It’s not hurting, is it?” he asked, stroking with feathery fingers.
“It’s only cos ‘e’s so ‘ard, but it’s nice…. It means I’m your boy now,” Julian declared boldly.
“You’ve been my boy since the first day we met.”
“You fink ‘agrid put one on ‘arry to make ‘im ‘is wizard-boy?”
“More than likely,” Lord Days breathed deeply, lust blossoming quickly.
Suddenly, he wanted to make Julian his boy in the way of all men who loved boys more than women. The longer he stared at the thick brassy ring and Julian’s engorged purple penis, the more desperate he became.
“Take off your pants,” he rasped.
“You goin’ to bum me, aren’t you?” Julian giggled as he bent to undress.
“We haven’t shagged in the Aston.”
Julian giggled. “We ‘aven’t, ‘ave we?
They’d snogged in the Aston, and played willy games, but they hadn’t had anal sex. They’d come close just twice. The closest was in the woods a mile from Derwent House. Instead, it was the first time they copulated outside. The other time, Lord Days had parked no more than two hundred yards from Brighton Pier, watching the waves from a wild winter wind. It was bitterly cold, even with the motor running and the heater turned on.
“Best leave your pants on in case we have to get dressed in a hurry.”
Julian pulled off his hiking boots, but left on his socks, his shorts and red briefs bunched at his ankles. When he looked up again, Lord Days had opened the front of his trousers, his man-sized member protruding.
“’e’s a whopper, ‘e is,” Julian teased, reaching over. “Like drivin’ a truck, Peter,” he giggled, levering Lord Days’ erection back and forth between the gears, making little-boy motor noises.
As much as its sheer size, he liked that the skin was tight and hot, and silky soft at the same time. The crimson head was swollen and the slit on the tip gaped like a mouth, already excreting slime. Huge and angry looking, it was definitely something a boy should be wary of, if not afraid, but he wasn’t. He needed to mate with it—it was only to be expected after seven months.
“’e’s ready for boy-bum, ‘e is,” he added, smirking, his trembling revealing his desire as much as the gooseflesh that covered him.
“You better get over here, then.”
Julian beamed as Lord Days hoisted 59 pounds of grinning half-naked boy from his seat, over the console, and into his lap, turning him side on in the process. Sitting that way, with his back against the driver’s door, Julian could stretch out his legs. He wiggled about so he could feel his man’s thick burning-hot shaft under his bare bottom. It pressed into his crack, making him shiver, happy all over.
“Lift up your bum, beautiful boy,” Lord Days said huskily. He emptied his mouth of saliva, all over his fingers.
“We’re usin’ spit like what they done?” Julian asked, eager to try it.
His little swollen penis definitely liked the idea--it pulsed wildly. He placed one hand on Lord Days’ thigh and wrapped an arm around his shoulders to raise up. He could feel Lord Days’ fingers poking at his anus, transferring spit, going back and forth from boy to man until slipperiness covered the essential places.
“I’ll stop if it hurts, but Pat said you should be okay with it.”
Julian gazed down, completely entranced, not caring that his juvenile sexual parts were mostly avoided, because that’s what happened when men and boys joined their bodies together. He nodded nervously.
“We just need to be careful,” Lord Days muttered, still unconvinced even though Julian felt very slippery underneath.
Excitement came in waves as his fingers explored, massaging playfully, dabbling at his boy’s tender sex-hole, dipping a fingertip inside. Then, adding more saliva, pressing his cheeks apart, his finger teasing the tiny opening, rubbing around the sensitive rim, penetrating a little deeper with each poke, lovingly opening him up.
From the outset, Julian had enjoyed this part of it. Being touched there was naughty. It always ignited something inside him, made him tremble all over.
“Go up,” he sighed, suddenly wanting what most boys never did.
Then, two fingers forced through, pushing two inches inside him, and he sighed and closed his eyes and hugged Lord Days’ neck as hard as he could. He should’ve been used to the ache, but he wasn’t, not really. Without warning, the fingers came out again, expertly pulling through his tender boy-hole. Lord Days drooled more saliva before sliding them in, then out again and in again until the soreness vanished. Back and forth, twisting and flexing apart like scissors, performing that time-honoured ritual of pederasts everywhere. It seemed like it took forever, but in less than a minute he felt Lord Days’ penis prod into his anus.
“Deep breath and relax, Sweetie.”
Julian took a very deep breath and relaxed as much as he could. He felt Lord Days pressing up, his solid manhood separating his buttocks, the head going in a little way, but not penetrating, just making his opening stretch even farther.
“Go in, Peter,” he murmured, trying hard not to stutter, even harder not to shudder.
It didn’t help that even the slightest pressure down there made him tremble. Wearing the brass ring excited him even more, his swollen penis standing up, straight and purple with prominent veins, not able to wilt even a little bit. It also forced his boy-eggs into a dark little ball, but it was more than that. It was what the ring signified.
“I ‘m going to fill your bum with spunk,” Lord Days growled, hugging his boy tightly.
Julian grinned like a West End tart. He could help but be proud, knowing he was making his lover incredibly happy. It was going to be rushed, but it was still the second most important time in his life.
“I love you, Peter. I love you so much,” he whispered, instinctively reaching for the spaniel’s shaggy ears.
He could feel it now, hot and hard, and bulging into his crack, impossible for a boy not to feel strange, his body all but melting around it, not only where Peter’s willy filled his hole, but inside his bum too. He closed his eyes and concentrated, fondling Lizzie and trying to relax at the same time.
“I love you too, darling boy.”
He clutched Lizzie’s ear and pushed down from inside, straining his belly muscles as hard as he could, no longer afraid of hurting himself, wanting to give Peter the opening he needed. He felt his anus widen, the rim of his lover’s penis ready to breech him, still rubbing circles ever so gently, teasing where man and boy coupled.
“Peter, stop being silly!’
“Put it in properly!”
“Pat said to go slow.”
“Do it, Peter. I want your willy up me bum. I don’t care if it ‘urts.”
“Maybe I do.”
“I want you to spunk in me, Peter.”
A fierce need grew inside Julian and he tried to force himself down, but he couldn’t. Peter’s left hand was between them, and his other hand was clamped in his armpit, keeping him steady, preventing the penetration they both wanted. Then, Peter’s hand moved away to cup his boy’s throbbing sex. It happened in a wonderful moment; a single jab and Julian was properly skewered.
“Urgh!” Julian grunted, as much shocked as hurting, but happier than he’d ever been.
About then, Lizzie stuck her head between Julian’s slender thighs, her snout just inches from where man and boy joined. Peter’s hand moved away to let her sniff, wet spaniel nose brushing purple boy-cock and knobby boy-balls, and lower still, where the man’s penis went in.
“She just curious. Do you want me to start?”
Julian shook his head, disobedient curls bouncing. “Go deeper first, Peter.”
“Deeper,” Peter murmured.
He wasn’t at all sure that he wanted to go deeper. It was enough that the thickest part was safely beyond Julian’s strangling sphincter. He was utterly content to stay right where he was for the rest of the day, spend the rest of his life with an androgynous boy. Still, he pressed on, relentlessly sliding his unyielding tool through the muscle’s firm grip and into Julian’s welcoming if very small body.
“Oh Peter,” Julian sighed lustily.
Peter groaned in response, awed into silence. He had his boy where he wanted him, perched above him, his upward prick firmly planted in Julian’s body, his little bum halfway penetrated, yet more than deep enough to consummate marriage.
“How’s that?” He was grimly aware that he wouldn’t last long—the sensations were simply overwhelming, yet he flexed ever so gently inside his young lover, reestablishing possession.
“It’s really, really nice,” Julian murmured, admitting the truth of it for the first time in his life.
It was nice, incredibly nice, and thrilling too, that he could actually be part of Peter. He had Peter’s huge willy buried inside him. It stretched him wide, and it hurt, not in a bad way, but in a wonderful ‘full’ way. The spasms came in waves, some almost overpowering, but he kept rubbing droopy spaniel’ ears, and the spaniel kept sniffing down there.
“Silly Lizzie,” he muttered. She’d witnessed their rutting almost every time, but never that close.
“We’re making love, Peter” Julian whispered.
It should’ve been an unsettling realization for an nine-year-old boy, but he gazed down, watching Peter’s much bigger hand, fingers gently tugging on his tiny puffy pouch, rolling his two small eggs, rubbing the delicate coiling tubes between them.
“Yes we are.”
The little brass ring contained his boyhood, everything that now belonged to Peter. The rest of him belonged to Peter too, having his lover’s penis wedged inside him proved that. He exhaled, confident and proud, and trembling as Peter embraced him, stroking fingers like fluttering butterflies. He relished his lover’s tender caress, barely touching.
“I’m glad I’m your boy, Peter.”
“So am I.”
Peter’s penis filled his rectum and made him shudder. It was deep enough that his body responded as nature intended, his hips instinctively rotating to find the right place, pushing down slightly. Peter’s penis pressed into his special place and stayed there, both man and boy breathing deeply, Peter’s fingers jiggling, playing with little-boy gonads exactly the way a little boy liked to be played with.
“I’m not going to last,” Peter whispered.
“Do me,” Julian demanded, breathing in quick gasps, increasingly distracted until he was barely able to pet Lizzie, yet eager for more than caresses.
They hadn’t counted beyond the first week—they’d mated too often once the pain went away. After seven months it had to number in the hundreds, a blur of passion, but this time was different.
“I love you,” they said together, and then they giggled like husband and wife on their wedding night.
As if realizing the importance of the moment, they managed to push the spaniel away.
“You feel so good, Peter.”
“So do you, Julian.”
“Now you’re in, you ‘ave to bum me.”
“Be honest, my darling, do you like being bummed?”
“What do you fink?” Julian grinned cheekily. He tried to go up and down, but Peter held him too tightly.
“I think you like it.”
Peter flexed gently inside him, hoping he was in the right spot. His sex organ throbbed, the little bottom seated on his crotch sank even lower, forcing skinny thighs wide apart, dangerously close to the end.
“Ohhh Peter….Peter…. Oh.”
“You’re crying?” Peter desperately hugged his boy.
“Can’t ‘elp it, can I?”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Don’t ever stop… please don’t stop. Peter.”
It grew hotter and wetter between them until Peter shuddered suddenly, his pelvis pumping violently, spewing semen into Julian as he reared up. Julian reacted by shoving himself down and forcing Peter’s massive cock deep into his rectum. It squirted in gushes, sending sperm surging up to his colon as boy-chardonnay leaked over his belly. Both man and boy grunted, getting every spurt out, but it was still over much too quickly.
“I’m full of your spunk, Peter,” Julian teased, smiling proudly, feeling his bowels gurgle as he played lusty games with Peter’s softening penis.
“Yes, you are. I love you, Julian.”
Curiousity finally got the better of the inquisitive spaniel. Peter fondled her head as she sniffed again at their glistening union.
“What do you think, Lizzie girl? Rather sexy, eh?”
“You done it too fast,” Julian declared, using the bottom of his London Zoo tee-shirt to wipe up his pee before it dribbled onto the seat.
“I’ll make up for it tonight, I promise.”
With his penis still planted inside his boy, Peter was unreservedly happy. He kissed Julian’s left ear, exploring the whorl with the tip of his tongue, sucking on the delicate little lobe.
“You have such beautiful little ears,” he said humbly. “So perfect.”
He nibbled contentedly on Julian’s ear, nuzzling auburn curls out of the way, lovingly stroking the boy’s small, yet very swollen sex.
“Finish ‘im off, Peter.”
“I will in a minute, Sweetheart.”
Having realized the fun was over for the time being, the spaniel made herself comfortable on the rear seat, her nose buried in her rear.
“Lizzie’s ‘ad a good sniff,” Julian giggled.
“Rather. She must like how you smell.”
“It was your big ‘airy fing she was smellin’, Peter.”
Rain droplets covered the windscreen, blurring the expansive view. In the distance, hazy coils of cloud swirled over the hills, more rain on the way, yet a few silvery rays of sun made it through.
“Like ‘ogwarts, it is.”
“It’s magical. I love you, you know.”
“I love you too, Peter. It was fun, wasn’t it?”
“You like being bummed in the Aston?”
Julian tightened inside, holding his man’s penis captive, the head still beyond his sphincter but no longer stretching him, more like a plug. It made Peter sigh.
“What’s not to like? I bet they’ll do Martin in the Bentley,” Julian snickered, relaxing the pressure.
“Not for his first time though.”
“’cos they’ll do ‘im in ‘is bed like you done wiv me, least till ‘is ‘ole’s bigger,” he grinned, clamping down again, wishing it could go on forever.
Peter dreamily combed the nape of his boy’s thin neck, silky locks long enough to reach his shoulders as he straightened out curls and tickled ears. He could smell American-kid-shampoo that Julian’s mother bought at Marks and Spencer, and there was ‘dog’ too. Mostly, he smelled what he called ‘wet puppy,’ which was really ‘little boy’ scent after rain. It was pure aphrodisiac for a pederast. He inhaled again and again, smothering Julian’s head with kisses.
It was as good a time as any.
“You think Eric wants Sparey to bum him?” he asked directly.
Julian smiled. “I reckon if ‘e got the chance, ‘e do it in a flash. ‘e copped a stiffy when ‘e was carryin’ on yesterday.”
“What happened yesterday?”
“Like I told you, ’e was dancin’ around naked while Sparey was watchin’ us changin’ for sports.”
It had been funny at the time, Eric’s skinny willy sticking up, bouncing on his lily-white belly as he pranced about, completely unashamed as the man leered at bare boy-bum.
“You said something about him touching Eric.”
“Dunno really. I didn’t see much…”
Julian knew he shouldn’t be watching, although Eric was funny, frolicking stark naked in front of the master. He turned away, but he still caught glimpses, his best friend getting closer and closer to the master until they were face to face. Then, Eric giggled, still doing his silly dance, but not moving nearly as much. It ended after a minute, a girlish squeal as he jumped back, his face scarlet.
“At fencin’ ’e told me Fairy wanked ‘im,” Julian confided, still unsure because the likelihood of any master doing that to a boy in front of his mates was doubtful at best.
“ ‘e said it weren’t the first time, Peter. Lots and lots, that’s what ‘e said.”
“I reckon ‘e’s not makin’ it up. Martin's sure 'e saw Sparey playin’ wiv ‘im at choir practice once.”
“It sounds as if Eric really likes him.”
“What ‘e really likes is getting ‘is willy wanked.”
“Like you, is he?” Peter teased
Julian grinned. “Uh uh. What I really like… is getting bummed.”
“Good, because once you’re my boy-wife, you’re going to get bummed a lot,” Peter chuckled, tickling Julian’s bare tummy as his fingers headed for willy.
It was bad timing on his part. His penis plopped from Julian’s rear.
“Oops! So much for sloppy seconds.”
“So you can play wiv your favourite toy instead.”
Julian moved his knees apart and Peter reached down, the little scrotum no longer as dark now that Julian’s willy had wilted. He fingered the silky pouch, tiny boy testes trying to escape past the ring. With a grin, he captured the delicate eggs between his first finger and thumb, rubbing them firmly. After seven long months of waiting for the right opportunity, it was time to introduce Julian to serious ball-play.
Julian squirmed, writhed, and wriggled, unable to stop Peter from squeezing his testicles. It was even better than wanking, a delicious, captivating torture that got better and better until he had to grab Peter’s hand.
“Bum me again, Peter. Properly.” He meant longer than a minute or two.
“I’d love to, Sweetheart, but your head will be bumping the roof.”
“If you haven’t noticed, it’s drizzling again.”
Julian grinned. “Rain didn’t stop you yesterday.”
Peter felt a dribble and looked down to watch a viscous blob of semen drip from his balls. There were wet streaks on the seat too. He pulled down Julian’s sky-blue tee shirt, wiping between them, making wet tell-tale smears on the London Zoo elephant.
“We need to get on our way, my dear. I’ll make up for it the next time.”
“Tonight, in our bed.”
Julian beamed. “Like ‘usband and wife, like what Pat said. What do you think Mum’ll say when I tell her we’re gettin’ married?”
Peter stroked his cheek devotedly, no longer playing along. “She’ll be flabbergasted, I expect.”
“She’ll probably think I’m ‘avin’ your baby,” Julian giggled as Peer turned his head and looked into his eyes.
“I love you, Julian. I know you think I’m silly saying it all the time, but I can’t help it.”
“You are silly, Peter.”
He turned to kiss. Just a peck on the lips, but they stayed cheek to cheek, hugging closely.
“We can’t kiss like this, Peter.”
“Tonight, my love.”
“I love you too,” Julian sniffed, blinking tears from puppy-dog eyes.
“Now you’re being silly.”
“Can’t ‘elp it, can I? I wish we really could get married.”
End of Part One