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 The Magic Cap.

By John T. S. Teller.

Part nine.

It's early May, Sunday, and the sun is warm on our backs as Stuart and I cycle along a country lane, away from the heavy traffic. Stuart, in his own inimitable, scheming way, had persuaded me to go cycling with him, just as he'd schemed and persuaded his parents that our spending a day together would be a good precursor to us joining a cycling club.

This part of the lane is twisty, and because it's not safe to ride side-by-side, I've told him to go in front and I'll follow. Because we're on a slight incline, and because he's wearing shorts white ones I can see his strong young legs working to keep a reasonable pace. I can also see the form of his beautiful bum that I know so well by now.

Since the meal at his place, we've made love often. Mostly at my place when Alex was on the noon shift, but also, because we were both feeling extraordinarily randy after an enforced period of abstention, on a couple of occasions, we managed to sneak off at lunchtime and went to a secluded spot on the disused airfield opposite the school, and did it there.

Now, as I watch him, I'm thinking ahead, because I want him again. Stuart is three lengths ahead of me. Suddenly, he stops, turns to me, and points to the river, which is running beside the road.

"I'm hot, Michael. If we can find a secluded place to swim, shall we?"

I grin at him. "I haven't brought my swimming trunks."

He grins back. "Who needs swimming trunks? That's why I said, `secluded'."

I'm by his side now, and I flick him on the ear. "Your middle name should have been `sex', and not Arthur."

He smiles, and then his face becomes serious. He strokes my bare arm. "I don't care how or where, but if we don't find a place soon, I'm going to strip off in the road and make you do me."

This is England, deep in the countryside, in early May, and although we've passed two or three farmhouses in the last half-hour, we haven't seen a single vehicle or a single person. That's because the crops have been sown and all the field work has been done, and now, the farmers will not be in the fields; they'll be mending their machinery or whatever they do in this period before harvesting their crops. That's why everywhere is quiet, and that's why I decide it's safe to find Stuart's `secluded' place.

It's another half-hour before we find it. We're well away from the road, by a part of the river that's deep enough to swim in, and hidden in the middle of a copse of oak and silver birch and conifers. The grass is virgin, and long, which tells me that no cattle use it here. Birds are busy. Another good sign. I place my cycle against one the the trees, and Stuart does the same. I look at him. "Will this do?"

Stuart comes into my arms. The first touch of his lips on mine stirs me deep inside, as it always does whenever we kiss, and his eager mouth as we're sharing a passionate kiss means as much to me as anything else we do... even our most sexual moments. His warm lips are soft and succulent, and each movement speaks to me. Now, they're telling me how much he wants me. Until I met Stuart, I would never have believed that a small boy as young as he is could ever be such a sexual creature. But Stuart is. It oozes from ever pore of his delicate body, and I only have to rub my lips across his to get a raise in my pants. And he knows it, and now he's darting his tongue in and out of my mouth, and I know that he wants me badly. Well, I want him the same, but I push him away.

Stuart looks puzzled. "I thought..."

I put my finger to his lips. "I'm sweating like a stuck pig. Swim first; that afterwards."

As I strip, I watch him discarding his few clothes to reveal the almost girl-like body that I worship with a passion. His waist is slim and curved, and the beautiful globes of his bum are perfection, as is the rest of him. He walks to the water's edge, and looks back at me. I grin at him. He grins back, jumps into the river, and emerges with a look of utter shock on his face, gasping and spluttering and yelling, "It's cold! It's cold! It's bloody freezing!"

After I've stopped laughing, I don't do what Stuart did; I wade into the water, and when I've adjusted to the cold, I begin to swim. Stuart is right, despite the warmth of the day, the water is freezing! We don't stop in long... it's too cold, and then we go back onto the bankside and lie, side by side, naked, holding hands on the sweet smelling grass, looking up at the almost mid-day sun, which, slowly, warms our bodies. When Stuart got out of the water, I noticed that his cock had shrivelled, as had mine, but now, as the sun warms us, the blood begins to flow through our cocks until we're both hard. Stuart has seen mine, and he rolls on top of me, and grinds his own swollen member over mine. I pull him up, and my cock slips between his open thighs, and he clamps it between them, and we kiss. His hair is still wet, and the water runs from it and down onto my face. He breaks the kiss, strokes my face, and stares into my eyes, and I see the look of sexual need come into them. He plants a quick kiss on my lips, and then another half dozen. His tongue is all around my face now, and he asks, "Did you bring any Vaseline?"

"Of course. Did you?"

"Buckets of it."

I chuckle, and rise, push him off me onto his back, and lean on my elbow by the side of him and look at the whole of the beautiful creature beside me. His eyes follow my hand as I stroke every soft curve of his compliant, supple body; the body I adore, and which is the centre of my universe, and my voice is almost hoarse when I say, "I love you, Stuart Begbie. You're the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes on."

Stuart doesn't speak. Instead, his hand comes behind my head and I feel the steady pressure as he pulls me to him. I'm looking down into the fabulous blue eyes; the hypnotic eyes that enchant me, and I see the love pouring out of them and into my own, and when the pressure of his hand is renewed, our lips come together in a kiss of pure, unadulterated love. Soft, searching lips caress my own, and then the darting tongue flicks in and out of my mouth, and there's an urgency in that darting tongue that tells me how much he needs me. And then I catch it, and suck it, and he whimpers, and I feel his whole body rising from the soft grass.

I break the kiss, desperate to please my lover; to bring him to the height of ecstasy; to relieve him of his aching need. His neck is soft as I my lips caress it; both nipples are erect as I nibble on them; his slender waist rises, trembling, as I kiss it, and then his swollen cock pulsates as I suckle on it to bring him that relief, and when it happens, he jerks and shudders and spasms and ejects his boyish spunk deep into my mouth; and when it's over, I still suck on it until I know there's not a drop of his juices left.

Only then do I go back up and look at the contented face of the young man I love. Both hands come up to my face, and his fingernails scrape gently over my cheeks as he stares into my eyes. Words would be an intrusion into what is happening now, and neither of us speaks. For a long time, we stay like this, and then I see the mistiness in his eyes, and the first tear of love appears. It trickles from the corner of his left eye and down the side of his face... and then another one from the right one. And then the flood of tears; and the deep, heart-wrenching sobs that are his spirit crying for my love.

I smile at him, and softly, I tell him, "I love you. I love you. I love you."

The words break the spell, and he smiles. His spirit, satisfied with my declaration, retreats back into the security of his small heart, and at that very moment, I vow to myself that I will never harm the wonderful, precious creature beneath me.

From the sublime, to mischievous ridiculousness. Stuart's face changes in an instant. "Get the Vaseline, Lover Boy! I want you inside me."

I grin, and then I giggle, not only at his words, but because I know what I know will happen next. I get up and go the saddlebag on my bike, and root out the large tub of Vaseline. I show it to Stuart. The astonishment on his face is worth a fortune.

"My God! How long are you intending to fuck me?!"

His amusing words reduce me to tears. Only when I manage to stop laughing do I tell him that it's not my fault. "I asked Alex to get some in. He did the Co-Op shopping, and came back with this. I cursed him, but he just laughed. He said half was for you. Something about stopping nappy-rash on your little... pinkler?"

Now it's Stuart's turn to break down with laughter. When he controls himself, and reduces his amusement to giggles, he says, "When I was at your house. The first time I came. On the Sunday. When he dried me. He saw my cock, and called it my `little pinkler'."

We're still giggling when I apply Alex's Vaseline to Stuart's bum, and over my semi-hard cock. After a few attempts, we give up. The situation has amused us too much, and every time I try to push into Stuart, and don't succeed because I can't get a real hard-on, we both break into giggles.

Still naked, were lying side-by-side on the grass, but now, we're eating our sandwiches. Stuart wants to know what I've got on mine, and when I tell him I have marmalade, he offers to swap me one of his cheese ones. I tell him that I'm surprised he hasn't got `foydee grass'. He giggles at that remark, and says that he expected me to bring pig's trotters. The fact that we're amusing ourselves now, and not dwelling on Alex's balls-up with the Vaseline, sort of brings us both down to earth, and when we've shared half my bottle of water, Stuart turns onto his front, and points to his bum.

"Stop playing silly buggers now, and play proper buggers, Michael! I want you in here!"

The sight of the cute bum soon brings me to my senses, and I caress it softly. He's got a perfect little bum, like a peach, and his small buttocks, now he's lying on his front, stand proud of his body. I stroke my hand down from his shoulders to the back of his tender thighs, and my cock rises to its full size. I roll him on his side, and snuggle up behind him, and then I slide my swollen cock along the length of his crevice. He moans, and curls up into a ball, and then pulls himself open for me. I feel for the opening, and my swollen knob slips past his ring, and I push until I find the magic spot. He moves his hands, and I can see, now that I'm where he wants me to be, that he's wanking himself off.

I grip his hips and begin the movements. I can tell by the sounds he's making just how effective my efforts are, and I adore doing it to him, especially because I can see my cock moving between his beautiful bum cheeks. It's difficult not to plunge deep into him and climax myself, but by now I've learned how to control my needs. I stop, and gather my senses before I begin again. The position we're in is comfortable, and I'm finding it easy to fuck my lover without too much effort on my part. Also, because I'm not over him and having to support myself, I can push his body on and off my cock at will. And then it happens, and I feel him shudder as he squeals as he climaxes, and when the lust has left him, he pulls off me, and rolls onto his back.

He looks at me. "You haven't come yet, have you?"

I shake my head. "No. Not yet. I've been enjoying pleasing you."

Stuart gives me a lovely smile. "Good. Let me clean you up, and then I want to suck you off, on top of me, so I can get at you properly."

He gets up, and goes to his own saddlebag, and takes out a cloth; wets it in the river, and then cleans me up.

I'm over him now, my knees straddling his chest, my hands supporting me way over his head. I can see what he's doing as I look down between my legs. Both his hands are around the base of my cock, and he's playing with, and examining my swollen knob, which has long since escaped from its foreskin. He pulls it in and out of his mouth, and kisses the wet tip, and then rubs it over his eyes and forehead and nose and cheeks, and tries to get his tongue deep into my urethra. He takes me in his mouth again. I watch it slip further into his mouth. It's not only extremely sexy, but also fascinating to see him wanting more of me inside him. He gags, pushes me out slightly, and pulls again. He gags again, and I can see his mouth trying to adjust. He does this a number of times, and then I know without doubt that I'm in to his throat; and now he's not gagging. My little wonder-boy must have been rehearsing this in his fantasies, and now he's trying to turn it into reality. We have had some previous practice at it, and every time Stuart sucks me off, he's been trying to get me deeper into his throat.  

The fingers that are around my balls creep up to find my hole, which, because of my position, is now available; and I feel one finger slide into my ring. I let him do the pulling and pushing so as not to break the rhythm. The finger in my hole begins to play with my rectum, and the length of the stroke of my cock gets longer. He knows when I'm coming as I begin to moan and tremble, and he pulls me deep into his throat as my spunk shoots out of my cock, and I can see him trying to swallow each spurt as it hits his tonsils. There's too much, and he has to push me out to take it all, and even then quite a lot escapes and runs from the corners of his lips and down the sides of his face. When the climax has ended, I try to pull out of him, but he won't let me, and I realise that he's so sexually aroused that he wants more.

Normally, I take time out to rest between climaxing, but I realise this is one of those rare times when that won't happen. And Stuart begins again. His finger works its way a little deeper into my rectum, probably up to his second knuckle. Then he pulls it out, and I watch him dip it into the tub of Vaseline. The finger slips in easily now, in fact, I'm reckoning he has two fingers in me now, because I can feel my ring being stretched. But it's not hurting. And then he begins to finger-fuck me as well as sucking me. Stuart knows I'm enjoying it, because I'm making the noises he usually makes when I'm fucking him, and he renews his efforts. At this stage, he becomes frenzied, and his finger-fucking and sucking becomes disjointed, and I'm finding that even more stimulating and animalistic, and I begin to plunge into him, trying to force my cock deeper into his throat, and when I feel the intense feelings rising again, I force myself into him and ejaculate as deep as I can. I'm absolutely amazed that Stuart has taken most of my seven inches, and I know that he's finally deep throated me. The passions recede, he takes his fingers out of my bum, and I roll over onto my side, and lie panting beside him.

I look at him. My spunk is all over his face, and running from his mouth, and his eyes are wild, and he's looking at me in a strange way: almost sub-human, and for the first time since we met, I realise what a sexually deviant creature he is. I'm not thinking badly of him, I'm just amazed that this beautiful, small boy is like that. He's certainly a far cry from the demure young man who collected his Magic Cap.

I wipe a finger over his cheek, and smear some of my juices around it. "You wanted that, didn't you?"

He nods. "I've been dreaming of this moment ever since I laid eyes on you. I worship you. I'm your slave who was born to please you. I belong to you... if you'll have me."

I pick up the cloth that Stuart used to clean me, go to the river, and wash it thoroughly, return to my lover, who is watching me intently, and gently wash his face. When he's clean, I smile into his eyes. "Of course I'll have you. Any way you want. But you don't have to be my slave."

Stuart grabs my hand, and brings it to his lips, and kisses it over and over again. "I love you. I want to be your slave. I like being your slave." Then he looks into my eyes. "I want you to dominate me. That's what I am, Michael. I don't have any illusions about what I am. I'm the girly one, and that's why I like you inside me. Do you mind me being that?"

I push him onto his back and lean over him, lower my lips to his, and kiss him tenderly while he's stroking my cheeks. I pull away. "No, I don't mind at all." And then I smile at him. "Either of us could choose to be the girly one, but I didn't think it was going to be me."

My smile is all it takes to bring Stuart out of this deep moment.

He grins. "Good. Then that's that settled. I wanted to get that out of the way so we could get on with it."

"It?"

"Us. Me and you. Lovers as well as friends. Do you want more sex?"

I shake my head. "No. I reckon we should have a quick dip, and then you can accompany Michael on his cycle."

My joke makes him laugh, and he springs up and leaps into the river. The sight of his naked, slim, beautiful body as he leaps through the air is something I know I will never forget as long as I live. He's standing waist deep now, arms out, waiting for me. I leap into the cold water, and go to him and sweep him into my arms. We come together, his arms around my neck, and we stare into each other's eyes. He licks a cheeky tongue out at me.

"You shouldn't have picked up my Magic Cap."

I pull a face, and lick my tongue out at him. "That bloody cap! God knows where it's going to lead us!"

Stuart grins. "To Paradise... and beyond... if we're clever."

----------

Sunday June 3rd.

I've had my body bath, dressed, and am combing my hair when Alex comes out of the kitchen, naked. He's had a body bath, and he's towelling his hair. Unlike me, he's not shy. Everything there is to see of him is available to me. He's two inches bigger than me six foot tall and he has a fine body; muscular, and it oozes strength. Down the side of his right shoulder are a number of blue, patchy scars. I know they are on his back, too. They're mementos of him being buried on the coal face when one of the timber packs gave way. He escaped with his life that day...just. And he's hard as nails. Within two days, he was back on the coalface, hewing out his stint. He looks at me, and grins.

"You look dead cute, Kiddo. Lover Boy's pinkler will be pleased."

"Don't be so bloody disgusting, you bloody animal! Leave him alone!"

Alex giggles from under his towel. "Lover Boy likes me calling it that. It makes him snigger. He's got a better sense of humour than you. Have you fastened Judy in the kennel?"

"No, I've put her on the chain. It's too hot to be locked in the kennel, you cruel sod."

"That's what I meant, you bloody idiot! Anyway, will there be a lot of posh talent at this do?"

"The only one I know is the Lord Lieutenant's daughter, and I haven't seen her, but Stuart says she's hot. He says she'll love your black eyes."

"Great stuff. That's me fixed up then. I'll get Lover Boy to introduce me."

"Stop calling him that! I've told you before about it!"

Alex ignores me, and lowers the wooden-slat clothes dryer down from the ceiling, drapes the towel over it, winds it back up again, and ties the cords to the hook. "Right, I'll go and get dressed. Its half past eleven and Mr Bourne will be here in half an hour."

While Alex is upstairs, I sit in Dada's chair and look around the room. Nothing has changed since Dada died. His wooden leg is propped up by the side of the china cabinet. Alex put it there the day after Dada's funeral. When I asked him why he'd done it, he said it was to remind us of what Dada used to say `Get on with your bloody lives, or I'll kick you down the High Street with this bloody leg.' The thought makes my eyes misty, but it also brings a smile to my face, and I sit and tell Dada what's going on, and how we're invited to the Lord Lieutenant's garden party this afternoon.

Alex comes down the stairs, still combing his dark hair. He slicks it back, and then looks at himself in the bevelled mirror above the empty fireplace. He's wearing dark blue slacks and a blue check shirt, open at the collar. When he turns, I can see the hairs on his chest showing in the cleavage because he's deliberately undone two buttons instead of just one. Even I have to admit that he's a handsome bastard, and he'll look even better when he puts his black shoes on that were polished to a high gloss last night.

There's a knock on the front door, and I go to answer it. It's Mr Bourne, and he's smiling at me.

"Are you ready, Michael?"

"Yes. I'll get Alex, and we'll come out to you." I look at the Armstrong Siddeley parked in front of the house, and wave to Mrs Bourne, who waves back to me. I get Alex, who ushers me out, and locks the door. We both get into the back of the car.

"Carry on, Jeeves."

Alex's comment makes us all laugh, and I wonder how the posh people at the garden party will take to him. They've got two chances with Alex: take him or leave him, because he doesn't give a shit for anything or anyone, and just as he's made fun of Mr Bourne, he'll do the same to the Lord Lieutenant if the chance arises. Stuart worships his sense of humour, and he and Alex get on like a house on fire. He even calls Stuart `Lover Boy' to his face, and Stuart never complains. In fact, I think Stuart is pleased with the familiar term of address.

I stare through the side window at the countryside flashing past us, and think about what's happening. Life is becoming crazy, and it's all because of one person: Stuart Arthur Begbie... and that bloody Magic Cap. From the mundane to the sublime; ever since it landed by my feet, and I was hooked by his gorgeous blue eyes. He's waiting for me now. I can smell him. Yes, actually smell him! He always covers himself with lavender perfume before we meet. It's not a heady smell; it's a sort of background smell that compliments his girlishness. Yes, his girlishness. We all try to smell better to a degree. I've stopped using carbolic soap, and now use a proprietary brand of soap that doesn't smell as if I'm in a hospital. But Stuart applies lavender perfume to every area of his body that he knows my lips will seek out; even up his gorgeous, puckered anus that fascinates me when I kiss and suck it. When I first saw it, I was amazed that it was so clean and fresh and pink. I don't know how he does it. Mine is stained brown. But Stuart's isn't. When it's dilating with pleasure, the pink leads to a deep crimson within him. A lavender scented pink leading to a lavender scented deep crimson house of sexual pleasures.

His lavender scented bum is like the rest of him, completely gorgeous, and in a very short time, I'll be able to feast my eyes on my Lavender Boy. Or should that be my `Lavender Girl'? I smile inwardly. Ever since Stuart laid that one to rest, I'm at ease with it. We two know; the rest of the world won't; and that's fine. I hope I will have Dada's strength in me to face `them' this afternoon. It matters to Stuart; it matters to the Bournes; and I want so much not to let them down.

To be continued...

Other stories on Nifty by John Teller/The Storyteller can be found here.