CHAPTER 6

 

 

William Brownlow alighted from the coach and stretched; trying to ease his tired muscles, which had been tensed for several hours against the swaying, bouncing vehicle. England's rutted, potholed roads didn't make for the most comfortable ride but he had still covered inside a day the distance that Oliver Twist had taken a week to walk in the opposite direction. He collected his bag from the coachman and walked towards the inn; imaginatively named `The Coach and Horses.'

 

The inn had a room waiting for him; he had mailed his reservation two days before travelling. William washed and changed before going downstairs for a dinner of steak and kidney pie, which proved to be rather better than he had expected. He also wrote a short note to the parish beadle to inform the man that he would be calling on him in the morning on a matter of business. The landlord of the inn was kind enough to send a boy to the beadle's home to deliver the note.

 

* * *

 

The following morning William arrived at the workhouse and was shown into a room which acted as an office for the beadle. As well as the two men, an old woman was sitting in the corner knitting; and drinking from a dirty mug.

 

`Would you like me to send her out?' asked Mr Bumble, when William was seated in front of him.

 

`No, I have nothing confidential to discuss with you,' William replied. `I am making enquiries into the background of a boy who was born in this workhouse ten years ago; his name is Oliver Twist.'

 

`That young scoundrel!' exclaimed Mr Bumble. `Got himself into serious trouble no doubt. I always knew that one would come to no good.'

 

`Actually, I find Oliver to be a very agreeable young lad and no trouble whatsoever. I merely wish to find out all I can about the circumstances of his birth; particularly anything you can tell me about the boy's mother.'

 

`I see,' Mr Bumble replied, obviously not seeing at all. `I'll get the parish records.'

 

The beadle left the room and returned a few minutes later with a sheaf of yellowing paper held together by a couple of strands of fraying string.. `This is the record that covers the year in question. Ah, yes, here it is; Oliver Twist, mother: name unknown, died in childbirth. Father: name unknown, declared to be deceased. That's all there is I'm afraid.'

 

`Did she leave any possessions behind?' William asked, worried that he had made his journey in vain.

 

`Not that I know of,' Mr Bumble replied, `but I wasn't actually present at the birth.'

 

`There was a locket,' the old woman spoke for the first time. `A gold locket.'

 

William turned to look at the woman and in doing so missed the glare that the beadle directed at her. `What happened to the locket?' he asked.

 

`The matron has it,' she replied.

 

`Has it?' William queried. `Do you mean she's still got it? Where is the matron?'

 

`The matron is now Mrs Bumble,' interjected the beadle. `I do believe she possesses a gold locket; although I don't know how she came by it; she had it before we were married.'

 

`She took it from the girl after she died,' the old woman said. `Said it was for safekeeping; likely story.'

 

`That's enough from you!' Mr Bumble exclaimed.

 

`I am going to see Mr Grimwig when I leave here,' William said, giving the name of the local solicitor. `I intend to have him prepare a couple of documents regarding Oliver's birth. I would like you and your wife to attend his office at 3 o'clock this afternoon to sign as witnesses. Please bring the locket with you, I wish to see it.'

 

`We'll be there,' the beadle promised.

 

When he left the workhouse William went straight to the office of Mr Grimwig, where he presented a letter of introduction from his own solicitor in London. He described what he wanted and explained that he needed the documents by 3 o'clock. He then returned to the Coach and Horses for a lunch of jugged hare.

 

* * *

 

Just after 3pm that afternoon, there were four people sitting around the desk in Mr Grimwig's office. On one side sat the owner of the office alongside Mr Brownlow; on the other were Mr and Mrs Bumble.

 

William first asked to see the locket. It was the same one that Edwin Leeford had shown him eleven years earlier; the one he had bought for Agnes Fleming to celebrate the upcoming birth of their child. He opened it and saw on one side the initials AF and on the other EL, engraved on the surface. This was what he had come for; the physical evidence that proved Oliver Twist to be the son of Agnes and therefore, of Edwin.

 

`Why did you not come forward with this before?' William asked. `You must have known that it would help identify the boy.'

 

`He was an orphan, there was no one to tell,' Mrs Bumble explained.

 

`That is not the point; there were other family and friends looking for the young lady. If you had advertised the existence of the locket they may have been able to claim the boy and save him from a life in the workhouse. I will not let the matter rest; I fully intend to take it up with the authorities before I leave.'

 

Next they turned to the documents. The first was a simple relation of the facts of Oliver's birth; including a description of his mother. The beadle and his wife signed it and Mr Grimwig countersigned as a witness. The second document was provenance for the locket; declaring it to have been the property of the young woman who had given birth to Oliver Twist and to have been in the possession of Mrs Bumble for `safekeeping' since then. Mrs Bumble signed this document and, again, Mr Grimwig witnessed it. Finally William signed another piece of paper and handed to Mrs Bumble. `This is a receipt for the locket,' he said. `I am going to take it with me and return it to its rightful owner; master Oliver Twist.' Mrs Bumble opened her mouth as if to protest but then thought better of it and kept silent.

 

Mr Grimwig stood to show Mr and Mrs Bumble out. When he and Mrs Bumble had left the office the beadle pushed the door to and turned to William, `I hope this little misunderstanding won't deprive me of my parochial office,' he said.

 

'Indeed it will,' replied William. 'You may make up your mind to that, and think yourself well off besides.'

 

'It was all Mrs Bumble. She did like that locket,' said Mr Bumble; first looking round to ascertain that his partner was out of earshot.

 

'That is no excuse,' replied William. 'You are the more guilty of the two, in the eye of the law; for the law supposes that your wife acts under your direction.'

 

'If the law supposes that,' said Mr Bumble, squeezing his hat emphatically in both hands, 'the law is an ass; an idiot. If that's the eye of the law, the law is a bachelor; and the worst I wish the law is, that his eye may be opened by experience – by experience.' The emphasis on the last two words left no doubt as to his feelings on the matter.

 

Having said his piece, the beadle placed his cocked hat firmly on his head and marched out.

 

`Pompous fool!' William said to himself when he had left. He had, of course, no intention of depriving the beadle of his position; but let the man sweat for a bit. He collected the documents, paid the solicitor and returned to the inn for the night; he would travel back to London in the morning.

 

* * *

 

Oliver Twist was bored. It was the evening of the third day that Mr Brownlow had been away and, pleasant though Mrs Bedwin was, she couldn't entertain the boy in the way William did. There was noise from downstairs; the sound of the front door opening and closing; Mrs Bedwin greeting someone; and – yes – Mr Brownlow's voice as well. Oliver dropped the book he was reading and raced down the stairs.

 

William was talking to Mrs Bedwin in the hall, when he heard what sounded like a herd of stampeding elephants; but was in fact, as every parent knows, the noise made by a small boy descending the stairs two at a time. Oliver tore down the hallway and launched himself at William from several feet away; landing squarely on the man's chest and flinging his arms around him. William automatically wrapped his own arms around the boy and they hugged each other tightly.

 

Mrs Bedwin regarded them with a rather enigmatic smile. She understood her employer better than he realised and had a very good idea of what he and the boy got up to together. While she didn't exactly approve; Oliver was so obviously happy that she couldn't really complain either.

 

`It's been a long day, Mrs Bedwin,' William said. `I'll tell Oliver all about my trip and then have an early night.'

 

William carried Oliver up to his room and they sat on the bed. He showed him the documents and explained what they meant; then he handed over the locket. `Your father gave that as a present to your mother,' he said. `She had it with her when she died; it belongs to you now.'

 

There were tears in Oliver's eyes as opened the locket and gazed at his parent's initials engraved inside. He threw his arms around William's neck and said, `Thank you, Sir.'

 

`You don't have to be so formal when we're alone, Oliver,' William told him.

 

`It doesn't seem right to call you by your first name,' replied the boy.

 

`If you want, you can call me Daddy,' William responded. `I'd like that.'

 

`I'm not sure,' Oliver replied hesitantly. `I've never had a daddy. Can I think about it?'

 

`Of course you can. Now, do you want to go to sleep, or would you like to have a little fun first?'

 

A stupid question like that needed no answer; in a few seconds man and boy were naked and lying on the bed. William lay on his back; Oliver knelt above him with a leg either side of his chest worshipping the man's cock. The difference in size between the pair made a sixty-nine impractical; but, with the boy's cute arse sitting invitingly a few inches away, William wet the index finger of his right hand and pushed it slowly into Oliver's anus. He grasped the boy's hard rod between the thumb and two fingers of his left hand and slowly moved the foreskin back and forth across the little glans.

 

Oliver moaned as he fellated William and felt his prostate and penis being rubbed. This wasn't going to take long; William had three days-worth of cum stored up and Oliver was desperate to taste it. The boy came first; his little cocklet throbbing in the man's hand and his sphincter clamping tight on the probing finger. A few seconds later William followed suit pumping six good ropes of semen into Oliver's mouth. After the first two spurts the boy lifted off and allowed the rest to land on his face. When William was finished Oliver swallowed what was in his mouth and turned to the man with a mischievous grin. William laughed when he saw the boy's cum drenched face, pulled him in for a hug and proceeded to lick the spunk from him. When the last of it was gone they kissed and William said, `Let's get cleaned up and go to sleep.'

 

* * *

 

William was just drifting off to sleep, spooned up behind his young catamite, when he was disturbed by a loud knocking at the front door. Telling Oliver to stay in the bedroom; he donned a dressing gown and a pair of slippers and went down stairs to see who was calling at such a late hour.

 

Mrs Bedwin, who had not yet retired for the night, had already answered the door. There were four men standing in the hallway. One was a former officer of Scotland Yard, who styled himself a private detective, to whom William had entrusted an assignment before he had travelled north. Two of the others were unknown to William but they were both tall, well-built young men. Standing between them, eyes blazing with anger, was Edward Leeford.

 

`What is the meaning of this?' Edward demanded. `You have no right to have me dragged here like some common criminal!'

 

`Let's go into the study, shall we,' William replied calmly. As they went in he asked Mrs Bedwin to bring Oliver down and wait with him in the sitting room.

 

William sat behind his desk; Edward and the detective sat on the other side; and the two burly young men stood behind Edward. The detective spoke first, `I have been following this gentleman as you asked me to,' he said, as if giving evidence in court, `Earlier this evening he visited an establishment in the east end and left with a young boy of approximately eight years of age. He took the boy to another address about a mile away and entered the cellar. I sent my own boy to fetch my assistants and, when they arrived, we broke in; whereupon we found the gentleman, naked and whipping the young lad, who had been tied up. He was in a right state, I can tell you; his back had been flayed from the shoulders to the knees and he was screaming in agony. I took the boy to the infirmary and brought the gentleman here as you requested.'

 

`What have you to say for yourself, Edward?' William asked.

 

`How I choose to spend my leisure time is none of your business,' the other replied.

 

`I rather think the authorities might view the matter somewhat differently. How do you imagine you'll get on in prison when the other inmates find out that you're a vile abuser of children?'

 

`You won't do that,' Edward sneered. `I know what you thought of my father and I'm all that is left of him.'

 

`That's where you're wrong,' William told him. Turning to the detective he said, `Ask Mrs Bedwin to bring the boy in.'

 

When Oliver entered the room, Edward did not immediately recognise him; the boy looked very different from the ragged urchin he had last seen. Seeing the hostile glare the lad was giving him, he took a second look and realised who he was, `You're the boy who enjoyed my little game. If the one tonight had been as accommodating he wouldn't be in the state he is now.'

 

`I did not enjoy it!' Oliver responded furiously. `I hated every minute of it; and I hate you!'

 

Edward then remembered something else that had occurred that night and realisation dawned upon him, `The letter! You can read, you devious little bastard!'

 

`This boy is your half-brother, Edward,' William interrupted, before the row got out of hand. `He is the son of your father and a young lady named Agnes Fleming.'

 

`I was right, he is a bastard!' Edward retorted.

 

`He is more Edwin's son than you could ever be,' William replied softly.

 

`I'm sure my father would be very proud to have a rent boy as a son,' Edward said sarcastically.

 

`He would have more pride in a son born into poverty, who did what was required to survive; than in one with wealth, who took advantage of his position to abuse the other.

 

Edward ignored the slight and asked, `Can you prove who he is?'

 

`Yes, of course I can,' said William. He showed the two documents to him and explained how he had obtained the proof of Oliver's parentage.

 

Edward's shoulders slumped and the fire went out of his eyes; he knew he was beaten. `What do you want from me?' he asked quietly.

 

At that moment, with his normal arrogant sneer replaced by a rather sad countenance, William finally saw a vague resemblance between the young man and his father and half-brother. `You were partly right. Due to the esteem in which I held your father, I have no wish to see you go to prison; but you are wrong if you think I lack the will to see it happen. You will sign over half of your father's fortune to Oliver and leave the country for good. I believe your uncle has a sugar plantation in Jamaica; you can go there.'

 

There was a brief pause and then Edward acquiesced, albeit reluctantly. They arranged to meet the following afternoon at William's solicitor's office, where Edward would sign the necessary papers. Their business being concluded, Mrs Bedwin showed the visitors to the door.

 

* * *

 

When they had retired to William's bedroom, Oliver leaned against him, laying his head on the man's chest and said, `I never want to see that horrible man again; even if he is my brother.'

 

`Don't worry, you won't have to,' William replied.

 

`Seeing him tonight has made me feel sore again,' Oliver said, with a glint in his eye. `Will you kiss me better?'

 

`Where are you hurting?'

 

`Everywhere!' the boy responded, with a giggle.

 

They divested themselves of their clothing in seconds; Oliver lay on his back and William climbed on top resting on his arms and knees to keep his weight off the boy. He started to kiss the lad's beautiful face; his forehead, each eyelid, the tip of his nose; each cheek and the tip of his chin. He pressed his lips to Oliver's mouth and pushed his tongue against the boy's lips which parted to allow it entry. Their tongues rubbed together as they kissed passionately. When William eventually broke the kiss he moved to Oliver's left ear and licked, nibbled and sucked on its lobe. He worked around the boy's neck and repeated the action on his right ear.

 

Moving down to his chest, William continued to kiss and lick the boy. He paid special attention to Oliver's nipples; pleased that the bruises had faded. He ran his tongue around each in turn before sucking the erect nubs into his mouth; causing the boy to moan with pleasure. He continued down, across Oliver's stomach, pausing to tongue his little `innie' navel. Below this the boy's hard penis lay against his belly waiting for the same attention. William, however, bypassed it; instead licking his groin and kissing down the inner thigh of his right leg. Oliver groaned in frustration and the man smiled to himself.

 

When he reached the end of the right leg, William sat up and raised the boy's foot to his face. He kissed and licked the top of the foot before sucking each toe individually and running his tongue between them. Oliver giggled as it tickled; but it felt good as well. Putting the right leg down, William raised the left and gave its foot and toes the same treatment, before laying it back down and working his way up towards his main goal. After running his tongue up the smooth, unblemished skin of Oliver's left inner thigh, William took the boy's scrotum and both his little nuts into his mouth and sucked on them; then he sat up and told him to turn over.

 

William now gave Oliver's back the same attention as he had the front; starting at the nape of the boy's neck and kissing his shoulder blades and running his tongue up and down his vertebrae. When he reached his cute bottom he saw that the marks from the caning, while still visible, were less vivid and would soon have disappeared completely. William picked up a pillow from the top of the bed and sipped it under the boy's middle, raising his arse for better access. He kissed and caressed Oliver's buttocks before taking one in each hand and spreading them to reveal his most intimate part.

 

William ran his tongue across the boy's perineum and up the crack of his arse. Oliver moaned again, this was something new for him and he loved it. William licked around the boy's anus, stimulating the sensitive nerve endings and driving him mad with lust. He put his lips over Oliver's pucker and sucked, then tried to push his tongue into his hole. He kept working at it, probing with his tongue and occasionally sucking at the small orifice, gradually loosening the lad's defences. At last the mouth won the battle; the boy's anus relaxed and opened and William was able to push his tongue into the warm hole. Oliver was squirming now, trying to get more of the tongue inside him; he was practically purring with pleasure. As he squirmed he rubbed his cocklet against the pillow and this pushed him over the edge. Just as William pulled his aching tongue out of the boy, Oliver orgasmed; the feeling was so intense that he actually lost consciousness for a few seconds.

 

When he came to, Oliver found that he was lying on his back again and William was sitting next to him, caressing his body. `That was amazing; the best feeling ever,' he told him. `Thank you.'

 

William leaned over, kissed his young lover and said, `You're welcome.'

 

`Do you want to put it in me now?' Oliver asked.

 

`Are you sure you want me to?' William responded. He knew that Oliver had been fucked before but each time it had been a much smaller cock than his. The last thing he wanted was to hurt the boy.

 

Oliver nodded, `Yes,' he replied, `I want you to fuck me.'

 

William picked up a bottle of oil from the side of the bed and told Oliver to turn over again. He oiled up the index finger of his right hand and pushed it into the boy; he followed this with two fingers. Then, when he added a third, he heard Oliver gasp, `Are you alright?' he asked.

 

`Yes, I'm fine,' the boy replied, looking back over his shoulder with a smile.

 

William continued to push the three fingers in and out of Oliver's hole, twisting them at the same time, as tried to stretch the lad as much as he could in preparation for what was to come. Eventually, when felt that he had done all that was possible, he oiled up his eight, hard inches and lay on his back next to Oliver. `Squat over me and lower yourself onto my cock. That way you'll be in control and gravity will help,' he said.

 

Oliver did as he had been told; he squatted, facing William and pressed the man's cockhead to his anus, as William held it in place; then lowered himself until the head popped through his ring. He immediately felt a burning pain and stopped until it had receded. Gradually he lowered himself in stages, taking more and more of William's cock into his chute; stopping every so often to let the pain reduce. At last he felt his buttocks pressed against the man's body. `I think I can feel it coming out of my throat,' he joked, with a certain amount pride in his voice.

 

They remained in that position for fully five minutes to allow Oliver to get used to the feeling of eight inches of thick cock in his arse. As they waited William played with the boy's little rod, which had gone limp while he had impaled himself; it returned to a fully hard state almost immediately. When he was happy that there was no more pain Oliver began to move up and down on William's shaft and straight away he knew that he was going to enjoy this. He started slowly but then speeded up, moaning as he did so.

 

After several minutes Oliver started to find this position tiring, so William put an arm around him and, without removing his cock, turned them so that the boy was now on his back with the man on his knees before him. Oliver bent his knees and placed his feet against William's chest and the man started to thrust his cock in and out. William had already climaxed once that evening, so he knew he would be able to keep going for a considerable time. He experimented with different depths and angles until he heard the boy gasp and knew that he'd found his prostate gland. He continued like that, his cockhead rubbing over Oliver's gland with every motion and the boy was soon moaning in ecstasy and pushing back, matching the man's movements. It was too much for Oliver and he soon had another dry orgasm.

 

William pulled out and turned Oliver around onto his hands and knees. He pushed back in and started to fuck again but harder and faster this time; he knew that his own climax wasn't far off now. Oliver was in heaven; although there was some pain, it wasn't the sharp, burning pain he had experienced when he had first been penetrated. This pain was a deep, throbbing ache and he found that it caused him more pleasure than discomfort. He felt William reach around and fondle his genitals, causing his penis to erect once again. With this stimulation and the pounding of his arse, it didn't take long for him to have a third dry cum; his fourth of the evening. As he came, his rectal muscles spasmed; this time it was enough to push William over the edge as well and he emptied his balls into Oliver's arse for the first time; but not, he was sure, the last.

 

Oliver collapsed onto the bed and William slumped on top of him; taking care to support his weight so as not to crush the boy. When his cock softened, he pulled out and Oliver sighed in disappointment as he felt an emptiness in his bowels. William sat up and watched as a rivulet of cum dribbled out of the boy's hole. He leaned in and removed the excess spunk with his tongue, before placing his lips over the boy's anus and sucking out a mixture of cum and anal fluid. Man and boy then kissed, sharing the taste of their lovemaking.

 

The two of them lay together in post-orgasmic bliss; William on his back and Oliver, face down, on top with his face buried in the man's neck. William had one hand on the boy's back while the other rested on his buttocks, caressing them idly. He could feel the rise and fall of Oliver's chest with each breath he took and the rapid beating of his heart. Finally William was able to articulate his emotions; the words he had been unable to say to Edwin all those years ago, he was now able to speak to his son.

 

`I love you, Oliver,' he whispered into the boy's ear.

 

There was a pause and he felt Oliver take a deeper breath and then release it with a contented sigh before he replied.

 

`I love you too, Daddy.'

 

 

The End.

 

 

Or at least it's the end for now. I'm going to leave Oliver in a happy place for a while but hopefully he'll be back for further adventures at some time in the future.

 

 

Constructive comments welcome at hughcox69@gmail.com Flames will be ignored.

 

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