A WARNING. This story is a work of fiction, and none of the characters or places described exist, and therefore bear no relation to anyone alive or dead. The story contains explicit details of a sexual nature and if this might offend you, please do not read it, or if in so doing you will break any law that applies to you wherever you may be.
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A tale of romance by Rafael Henry
I once asked the question, `what's it all about' to a very intelligent man who happened to be my Housemaster at my prep school. We were talking about the cosmos and God and all that kind of thing one evening in his study. He leaned over towards me, his hands on his knees, and asked me very quietly...
`Alfie...do you really want to know?'
He was sitting with a half dozen twelve and thirteen year olds having the usual Sunday evening discussion session. The room fell completely silent while we sorted out in our heads just what he meant by his answer.
For weeks afterwards I thought about what those six words meant to me personally, and I'm still thinking about it still, on and off. I have worked out what it means to me, I think, and it's this. Some things are and should be beyond our understanding, and that faith in the broadest sense is what we need. In the same context, Mr Kelly said that `the magic is still there, even though we know how the trick is done'. I haven't quite worked that one out yet, but I think I have the gist.
Mr Kelly is good like that. He says that everyone can contribution to make the world a better place and we just have to be ourselves, and to know ourselves. Well, I'm not going to argue with that.
Those discussions are one of the best things we do here. The meetings never have an agenda, and just start somewhere by somebody coming up with an idea, or something suggested by a current event, or an issue that affects kids of our age, like health, drugs, sex and so on.
So where's here then?
This place, The Lodge Prep School for Boys, is expensive and we have most things, if not everything. We're told that we are privileged, and it's true of course. I don't feel guilty about that because it's not my fault that I'm here, and nor is it my fault that billions of people on this planet have less, or even nothing. We are taught that we should prepare ourselves to make the lives of others better as and when we can. I think that's fair.
There are two hundred and fifty boys in the school, so they tell us, and twenty four of us board. All but three of us boarders go home at weekends. Two more go to relatives every other weekend, which leaves me here all the time except for holidays, when I go home to Thailand. My parents live in Bangkok and my father works for a multi-national bank. He makes tons of money so I can get educated in the UK. I think the Bank forks out some of it. At home we have a large house near the sea with a couple of annexes which house the servants and their families. We have a pool which anyone can use, including the children of the staff. When I'm home I spend hours with them playing in the pool. They are so much fun to be with and I love them. My parents' attitudes to life are what they call `progressive' which is why I'm here at the Lodge, which is run apparently according to `progressive' principles. This means, so I'm told, that we pupils are free to make choices. One choice we don't have is to opt out. No one opts out here.
There are some strict rules about how we treat each other, and that means boy to boy, and boy to leader, and leader to boy. We don't have teachers. Mr Kelly is my father in the UK, and his wife is my mother. I'm never left on my own unless I choose to be. The Kellys don't have children here, but they have two boys that live elsewhere. I'm not sure of the history of that situation, but my parents told me that they were his, not hers, and from two different women, and that he wasn't married to either of them. He got more interesting to me when I heard that.
I think Mr Kelly is quite religious because...well, I'm not sure really. He's keen on music and got me interested when I first arrived aged seven. He encouraged me to join the Chapel choir which I did, and he always comes to Wednesday and Friday evensong, which is for the boarders and dayboys with a parent, some staff or...anybody else. Quite a few attend regularly. I love it all...the music we sing...the dressing up and the processions and all that stuff.
Basically, I live with the Kellys at weekends. We go on little trips sometimes, or out to the pub for a meal...that sort of thing. At night I sleep in my usual room. Mr Kelly always comes down to see me and settle me down for the night. I know I can talk to him about anything. I know when I started here things were difficult for me. I did my fair share of howling over this and that and he showed me nothing but kindness and understanding. Sometimes I worry that he'll die one day. When he does I will know, and I'll come back from wherever I am to see him, however far away that is. I don't mind seeing a dead person. I've seen a few in the Far East.
He told us one evening that he designed the boarding facility here, more or less. He'd come from a school in Essex, Harlands I think he said. The conditions he found here were pretty dreadful, and the Governors agreed to rebuild some of the accommodation. We have four boys to a room with a curtain between each bed for privacy, which we never use. Each of the six rooms has a big ensuite wetroom with two loos plus bidets, and four washbasins and two shower heads. There's deliberately no privacy...you poo, shower, and wash your bum in public in other words. Nudity is accepted as normal, everyday, healthy and a good thing, and we love it. It doesn't matter if my cock is not as big as the next bloke's or John's got a hard on, or Fred's having trouble on the loo. The other thing is that we are at that age...a bit of a tricky age so they tell us, when all sorts of things are starting to happen. For some, it's happened already. For others, well, they'll just have to wait. I'm in between.
Sunday Talk, as it's called, is a fixture, which takes place after the other boarders have returned to school from their weekend out. The lower three rooms, that's twelve boys, meet with Mr Kelly at six thirty, and the top three rooms, Merlin, Eagle and Falcon [all senior birds, as opposed to Robin, Kingfisher and the naughty Starlings] meet at seven thirty. A huge amount gets covered in those meetings and a lot gets learnt. If ever I ran a House, I would institute something similar. The meetings are separated into two because of the age difference. Some of the issues for the younger boys are different from ours, and some of the things we discuss are not relevant or suitable topics for them. Sex and body issues for example. That crops up regularly.
The thing about Sunday Talk is the fact that it's work...part of our curriculum, and everybody is expected to contribute their ideas on any subject. If there was a silence, it was turned into an opportunity. For example, Mr Kelly mentioned that the Quakers meetings had long periods, possibly, in silence. When someone asked why, there was a long debate about whether silence can be creative. Everybody had to have a minimum of two out of school activities that didn't include sport or music, and be prepared to talk about to the group. Mine are writing a diary, and modelling for Art Club. The first one is almost an obsession, and the second is a chance to bugger all twice a week. But by far the most popular subject for discussion is a thing called Personal Awareness. Buried not far below the surface of this topic is the subject of sex. This is what we all want to know about, not that we're not already having it...we are.
The last twenty minutes would be set aside for Personal Awareness, and it was more of a question and answer time than discussion. The ethos of the school is such that we can ask questions about anything and expect an answer. Nothing is taboo. At the start of each year we are given a book about moral, social and health issues, approved by the parents. I'm in the State Sector equivalent of Year Eight that we call Fourth Form here. When it comes to sex, our book goes beyond the `where do babies come from' level, and deals with the practicalities that a boy of my age needs to know. I'm talking diseases here, psychological issues to do with relationships and more advanced information like homosexuality and the chemistry of reproduction, when it's safe to enter a relationship, and so on...even things like `what is spunk made of'. Actually you could go a long way through life without knowing what spunk consisted of, or actually needing to know I suppose. Suffice it to say, now we do know, and we're only twelve or thirteen. We are very well informed.
In my year, the last year here, we take a thing called Common Entrance in January. You don't pass or fail this thing, but the school we want to go to assesses our academic potential from how we do in it, and decides whether they want us or not. I did well enough to get accepted to the school my father went to, which is not far from here just outside Windsor. No guesses to exactly where please. I suspect that I went down well at the interview, which was in no small part due to Sunday Talk. Thank you Mr Kelly. I wrote down some of the things they said to at the interview. `We don't want brains in front of screens' was one thing...another was `we want independently minded boys who could escape the dead tyranny of conformity'. I liked that, and that's exactly what they encourage here...just that...don't think about...do it.
It's June now, and hot, and four weeks away from the summer hols, and another eight after that before we start at secondary school. I'll be boarding of course, and I'll be one of about two hundred and fifty new kids, and I have to be prepared to work incredibly hard, but most of all, to be confident enough to be myself. Sex will be on offer, I hope, and I will have to make choices.
Mr Kelly kept me back after the last Sunday Talk. I had started a discussion about relationships with other boys which I had meant as friendships, but he had misinterpreted that as something sexual. Oh shit.
We had an incredible talk for about half an hour about it all. He asked me to be frank about it, so I told him. I won't go into it all here...I can't really. At the start he asked me if I had ever masturbated with another boy here at school. I said I had. At the end he asked me if he could raise that issue, not naming me, at Sunday Talk. I said that was fine. I couldn't help chipping in with what the **** guy had said about the tyranny of conformity. He laughed and patted me on the shoulder, and as he left he said...
`Just try very hard not to hurt anybody, ok?'
I said I would. I know Mr Kelly is not just a teacher. What he does goes way beyond that. Walking back I realised that he hadn't told me not to indulge in mutual masturbation with another boy my age, but not to hurt anyone in the process. My age? The field has been a bit wider than that.
Thailand, or Bangkok in particular is hot in August which is when I'm there as luck would have it. The average temperature in that month is thirty degrees centigrade or eighty six in American money. That's why we spend most of the day in the pool. When I say we, I mean me and a varying number of very playful Thai boys who belong to our servants, but when it comes to having fun, we are all equal in the sight of God as they say. Very true.
In Sunday Talk from time to time, I've described life in Thailand as I've experienced it. They are lovely friendly people, but they have a different attitude to sex than the average European. I have a theory that Mr Kelly thinks I'm influenced by the Thai boys' attitude to sex. I'm sure he's right. Essentially they are hang-up free...rather refreshing I think, and rather fun too. Like all young boys, they find their private parts endlessly amusing, and those of their friends too, and if you happen to be European and the son of the boss...you are a target for their affection, which I'm afraid I found irresistible.
They are like playful dolphins, swimming around, weaving and ducking under the water and suddenly surfacing by your face managing to brush their hands between your legs and buttocks as they emerge. You grab their slippery bodies but they wriggle away only to be replaced by another little body equally elusive. You manage to catch one and you hang on to his lithe body as it tries to escape. Soon it does, but not before you've repaid him in kind. Two more move in for the kill and you let them now because resistance is futile. It's amazing how long those brown skinned smiling faces can stay underwater to inflict such pleasurable pain on your body with little fingers pressing and poking, and mouths and tongues...
Our garden in Bangkok is huge and there are plenty of places to hide in the soft dry grass. We form a standing circle. It's a familiar game when we play with each other in turn. Them they put me in their midst and the five boys surround me. That's ten little hands all over my body as I stand there amid my tormentors. One of them, Pak, who is twelve years old like me, holds my cock which is hard now. I feel for his and I find it hard too. They lay Pak down on the grass and help him raise his legs high by his shoulders. I kneel, more hands on me as I feel fingers in my buttocks...against my hole now...almost in it now, as I look at Paks inviting passage within its mysterious shadow and glistening with his brother's spit. They pour more saliva into Pak's waiting body, and on my own penis, now shining with their own wetness. They've made Pak ready for me. I'm on my elbows now and they carefully guide me into Pak. He receives me with ease because he's well used to such an invasion. He holds my shoulders and encourages me in his own language...do it do it do it he cries. I'm hard into him with short and deeply penetrating thrusts that forces Pak hard into the grass. I feel a finger deep into my bottom...hands on my back and up and down my legs. Pak knows how to please me, gripping and coaxing out my spirit.
Pak is the best, desperate to please and amuse. He is the one who has taught me how to please him. I've come, and now he has to. I know how I will, as my tutor has taught me. I feel where I have just been, his body still open. I feel him far inside. They feel me far inside as Pak responds to my mouth and tongue, and all too soon it's over. Breathless now, I'm kneeling over my little friend as he lies there, eyes wide and black. I have tasted beautiful Pak.
Sex as a group activity is a popular game over there. It's all perfectly normal and an ok thing to do it would seem, unless I just got lucky, and it's all about pleasing the person who should be pleased according to the employment hierarchy. Their parents have probably told them to `look after me', so they do. It's as simple as that. There was an older boy called Dang. He would swim with us on occasions. He was about sixteen at a guess, and had a much bigger cock than the others who were all more or less prepubescent, and one or two very prepubescent. By the look of Dang's deliciously pendulous dick, he was obviously capable of producing spunk. Being a non-starter in that department myself, I was fascinated to know exactly how much he could get, and what it looked like. I discussed the project with Pak one morning. He said he would organize a demonstration just for me, and that he thought Dang would be happy to oblige, and as things turned out, he was.
Dang, like all those Thai boys has no excess fat on him, and like his younger siblings, all smiles. He used the pool on occasions but nothing like as much as the smaller fry who seemed to spend their life in the thing. One day I was sitting on my own on one of the wicker chairs poolside and Dang appeared. He looked at me and smiled, and I smiled back. He stripped off the little that he had on. Nude now, he could see me admiring the tube like object that hung in a nice curve as it protruded out of his abdomen. He wasn't circumcised as most of the Thai boys are, but the foreskin didn't cover the end bit which was an attractive pinky colour as opposed to the mid brown of the rest of it. In the midde of the pink bit there was an opening like a wide slit and slightly shiny. He looked down at his now slightly enlarging cock, and then at mine, which by chance was also slightly enlarging. I opened my legs a little wider so he could see better. Dang smiled at me again, and then proceeded to gently retract his foreskin until the whole of the bulbous tip was exposed. I couldn't take my eyes off his fantastic cock which by now was more or less erect, but the weight of it meant it stood out at the horizontal. By now, mine was pointing skywards.
We went off down the garden and sat behind the same bush that we often used for sex games with the boys. He lay down and put his hands under his head and waited for me. I lay down next to him and took hold of his cock and started to play with it. I examined it in some detail, squeezed it, felt his balls which were huge and hard. I found that if I squeezed from the base end towards the tip, I could get a clear thick liquid to come out. I played with this stuff I hadn't seen before and smeared it around the tip of his cock. The slit in the end had widened as if it about to talk to me. Dang started this quiet groaning routine so I thought I had better relieve him of his obvious pain.
A couple of minutes later I found out everything that I had wanted to know about spunk, but didn't like to ask.
We were of course in the shade of the big bush, but it was still very warm even though it was still before nine in the morning. I can't remember exactly how many shots of Dang's cum ended up on his tummy and chest, not exactly in pools but in thick strands where it all landed, with gaps in between caused presumably by the diminishing force of the ejaculation, that is to say the first shot went the farthest. I was transfixed. I began to play with Dang's cum with the tips of my fingers, moving it this way and that over the warm dark skin of his lovely flat tummy. I put some of the creamy white substance on my own still rigid penis, and on my tummy and believe or not, my face. Dang sat up, hugely pleased with himself no doubt at my enthusiastic response to his glorious cumming, laid me down on my side and began to give me the most wonderful sensations with his mouth and tongue all around my cock and balls, and with his hand now forced between my buttock cheeks, he found my hole. The combination of what he was doing at the front with his tongue and the feeling of his finger [it might well have been two] way up my bum was excruciatingly pleasant I have to say. Dang had made me come quite quickly, just as I had made him come in his own good time. Five minutes later we swam in the cool water, both well satisfied...and how! You can't beat experience they say, and Dang had more than Pak, whose gallant efforts to please us in the same way couldn't match what Dang had to offer, but he always did his best.
Pak found me later that day. He seemed pleased with himself and it was obvious that he had been informed. I was slightly embarrassed.
Back in England...
No such goings on here on the edge of Windsor Great Park you will be pleased to hear. No, the nocturnal goings-on in Merlin, the name of our room, can't hold a candle to Pak, Dang, Pow and company, but we do our best to please one another.
Another by-product of Thai life is the tailoring industry in Bangkok. Summer at school is shorts time for every boy. We don't go in for the grey pseudo flannel stuff when it comes to summer wear. Grey, yes, and pale grey, but a very nicely constructed garment made from good quality cotton fabric, with pockets each side but no pockets to obstruct the nice clean lines at the back. Last Easter I flew home in my shorts, those ones aforementioned, which on inspection my mother decided needed replacing before I went back. No problem, our local tailor would copy them perfectly, similarly my standard grey long trousers for more formal wear, like Chapel and so on. Our tailor, a very nice small man, asked me if he should copy the cut exactly. I told him that if the cut could be improved on in some way, he should do that. Leave it to me he says, and got out his tape measure. Two days later I went to pick them up from his little shop tucked away in downtown Bangkok. The result was perfection. No baggy bit in the crotch...nicely fitted down there...just an inch or so shorter...and nicely formed around the bottom area. Similarly the long trousers. I stood in front of the mirror, turned around and looked. Very nice, but I would have to be careful what I wore underneath.
I'm not that fussy when it comes to the clothes I wear, but...there are some aspects I do care about. I remember my father getting hot under the collar when my mother referred to my set of underpants as `knickers'.
`Darling...' he says to her loudly, `Do we have to call Alfie's underpants knickers?'
`Well darling, they are the knicker type of boys' pants. It's what they all wear these days.'
Well said mum. I feel quite chuffed.
So what's in a pair of boys' pants then, apart from the obvious? Quite a lot actually, if you happen to a more discerning customer which I think I am. You get the cheap run of the mill stuff, and then you get the nice stuff. My mother, who rightly suspects that my appearance matters to me, makes sure I have something that shows me off nicely...something that has a bit of body to it in terms of the quality of the cotton used in its manufacture, not too brief...something between the old fashioned Y Front and the modern `slip' as I think they're known as, and most important of all...cut in such a way so they `sit' nicely around one's bottom. I've heard from someone I'll mention later, a term I rather like in this particular context...'lines of form'. Now, a line of form, as I understand it, is literally a line that travels around any raised form in the human body, or anything else for that matter, like an apple for example. One's bottom cheeks are forms...important ones to those who notice such things...and those mounds of muscle when observed through well cut cotton shorts are without doubt enhanced by what is worn underneath. Say no more.
The school clothing list, in other words everything we have to have, is quite clear on the matter of underwear. Boys are expected to wear `Plain white briefs', and no less than a dozen of them too. Well that's clear enough. Only white? Yes, and there's a reason for that stipulation...hygiene. I mentioned earlier that the wet rooms were equipped with bidets. Big rule...use them when you need to, because we are not going to have boys running around in dirty knickers thank you. Another rule...you put on fresh ones every day. If you break the rule, we'll know because there's a name in them. So there we are...all nice clean boys, well cared for, and looking very nice in their uniforms. That's another thing. I'm sure that the uniform was one of the reasons my mother chose this school for me. The uniform is distinctive...the blazer is pink...not a sugary pink, and nice darker and subtle pink with grey trim on the sleeves and lapels to match our jumpers. They're nice too, light grey with the same pink in a broad line following the `V' neck. Add a grey shirt, silvery grey tie with diagonal pink stripes, long grey socks plus two rings of pink at the top for those still in shorts, grey worstead trousers for those that are not, and functional black shoes. That's it. For summer, things change. Substitute buckled sandals for black shoes, short grey socks, light grey cotton shorts, grey aertex shirts, no ties, same jumper if needed...ditto blazer.
I flew back from Bangkok in uniform for the start of the summer term. I always do that because the airline staff look after you better if you play the innocent schoolboy card. The cabin staff make a fuss of you. I felt good too in my new summer shorts, with all the other nice things stowed away in my large suitcase in the hold. The school sends a car to meet the overseas boys at Heathrow, so getting back to school is not a stressful operation, barring delays. It's just such a bloody long flight. Anyway, Common Entrance is done and dusted, and this term is just dotting the i's and crossing the t's now...and having fun. They'll be lots of games of this and that, every boy in nice white kit, resplendent against the emerald green of our playing fields, with nothing under our shorts. No, it's a games staff rule. It's a case of going `commando' for games and athletics...but plain navy blue swimming briefs for the pool please, boarders excepted. There's an unwritten rule for them when it comes to using the outdoor pool. Boys may swim au naturel provided it's before breakfast. We have several lady members of staff who use the pool regularly at that time as well as some of the male leaders. That rule doesn't change because they are present.
Mr Kelly stopped me in the playground yesterday.
`Can we have a chat please Alfie. Nothing earth shattering. After school today...say four thirty?'
Nothing earth shattering? It had to be something...some sort of problem.
I had butterflies in my tummy as I knocked on the door to his study.
`Ah, Alfie, come in.'
He beckoned me over to the brown and very worn settee by the window. He sat at one end and I the other.
`Simon Green. Am I right in thinking that you are or were friends with him?'
`Yes sir.' I answered sounding a little surprised to hear his name.
`He's not very happy, Alfie.'
`Isn't he sir?'
I'm fairly sure what's coming at this point, and I'm not going to lie. I have too much respect for Mr Kelly to start lying to him. Anyway you just don't tell lies to Mr Kelly.
`No he's not.'
`Why not sir?' He didn't say anything, but kept looking at me.
`Is it about me sir?'
Oh shit, he knows.
I'll keep this short. Simon is a couple years younger than me. He's always wanted to be friends but I wasn't so keen. It's difficult to have a friend, a proper friend, in a lower year. It's just awkward, that's all. He's nice. I don't have any problem with him, but he just kept finding me around the place and...well, sort of pestering me...wanting to go for walks and stuff. One day I agreed to go onto the school field with him, and we ended up sitting in the grass way over in the corner and crucially, out of sight of anybody else. He just started crying so I put my arm around his shoulders. Then he recovered a bit and lay down, so I lay next to him. Neither of us said anything. He took my hand and put it on his tummy. His shirt had come out of his shorts so it was bare just above his waist. He lay on his back and undid his shorts, the zip and everything. I could see his little penis poking up in his pants. By this time I knew what was going to happen. I began to feel him and he got a nice boner. I undid my shorts so that he could feel inside. I was already hard.
`Is that nice Alfie?' he says looking at me. He looked so sweet lying there.
`Umm. Look...do you like it? Can we do it please?'
I did look, and I did like it, and we did do it.
`Can I do you first please Alfie. I like your willy.'
`Thanks Simon. I like yours too.'
That's it really. Neither of us took long. It's always like that with someone new. The trouble was that it didn't stop there. We met in various places and played the cum game a few more times before I started to avoid him. Mr Kelly had just rejigged the rooms we slept in and I was put next to another boy my age with whom I had always got on well. After a few nights, we started doing it together.
`The problem is Alfie, he doesn't understand why. He thinks he's done something terrible that's offended you. I wouldn't say this to every boy, but I'm going to say it you simply because I know you are essentially kind and caring. He's very hurt Alfie. It's not your fault either. Younger boys can't expect or rely on an older boy's loyalty.'
`It is though, isn't it sir. It is my fault.'
We sat in silence while my resolve not to cry, crumbled. After a minute or so, he handed me a tissue.
`Alfie...can I ask you to talk to Simon? I'm not asking you to be friends again or anything, but just tell him that it's nothing he's done. Now you know how he feels, tell him how you feel about that will you? It would be a kind thing to do. Please consider doing that for me...and for yourself, and Simon?'
I went to find Simon. It took me about five minutes and he was somewhat surprised that I wanted to talk to him. I took him up to our room, Merlin. I knew we wouldn't be disturbed there.
To say I felt bad was an understatement. I honestly don't think he knew why he was there. I don't like unkind treatment of people any more than anyone else, and I know it can't be tolerated in little communities like this, and if it happens it has to exposed and mended.
`I'm sorry Simon.'
It only took those words.
We are friends again, but I had to explain to him that it couldn't be in quite the same way. That can't happen again. Simon understands.
About an hour later I ran into Mr Kelly doing his rounds.
`Everything ok Alfie?'
`Yes thank you sir.' I said with a smile on my face.
He gave me a squeeze on the shoulder as he said it. I looked down and bit my lip.
`It's what makes the world go round Alfie.'
`What does sir?'
`What you just did for Simon.'
I looked up at Mr Kelly.
`And don't be too hard on yourself Alfie. Things get broken, but so long as we do our best to mend them, it's ok don't you think?'
In bed that night I realised that I was going to miss this place.
The weekend visitor...
Mr Kelly always tells us that he's made as many mistakes as anybody on the planet. He says we're all human and we fail on a regular basis, but as long as we try to learn from our mistakes, then that's ok. He sometimes looks like he's sad about something. It worries me when he looks like that.
I think it's a mark of a successful teacher when his former pupils want to see him years later. I've boarded here since I was six years old, and there's been a trickle of weekend visitors all that time. I remember one called Olaf. He was nice...and another called Tim. He spent the weekend playing the guitar. Amazing! It's Friday and all the boys have gone to wherever they go, the lucky bastards. It's times like this that it gets to me a bit.
I saw him at the five thirty Evensong service at Chapel. It's mostly parents and one or two staff that come to, otherwise there wouldn't be anyone there apart from the choir that is, and our lady Chaplain. She's really nice. Mr Brown who is the Director of Music, runs the choir. There are sixteen of us, plus another six or so probationers. They look incredibly small as they troop in and sit in front of us fully qualified bods in our black cassocks and nicely ironed surplices, looking like butter wouldn't melt. If only they knew the half of it. Well actually, they probably do. Mr Kelly never misses the two `shows' we put on each week. I have to say that I enjoy it...the singing...even the music, especially the psalms...well all of it really. There are six leaders, teachers who sing the base and tenor parts, but we don't practice with them in the week, just the forty minutes before each service. He was sitting next to Mr Kelly. Although we're told not to look at the congregation, you always notice someone new.
I go up to the Kelly's flat for tea after the service, and sit around for a while before we have dinner. It's usually spag bol or something like that, after an hour in the pub. They have a camper van thing that we go in. Immediately after the service we meet in the vestry and have a prayer which I like...thankful that we got it right this time, more or less. I still feel bad about how I treated Simon.
I knocked on the door first, and opened it as I always did. From the hallway I could see a figure standing by the window looking out. It was the person who was with Mr Kelly in Chapel. He heard me and turned round...
`Hi. You must be Alfie? I'm Max.'
Do you ever get that weird feeling like your stomach turns over? I do, and I just got it then...when he spoke to me.
`Oh hi...yes, I'm Alfie.'
I moved into the centre of the room as he walked towards me, and he put his hand out as if to shake mine. I put mine out and got that feeling again as we shook hands. I left my hand in his until he let it go a few seconds later.
`Are you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost.'
I think it was the Chapel service that had got me going a bit about Simon, and I wasn't quite in the right frame of mind to meet someone new. He asked me if I was interested in a walk around the school grounds because it looked `rather splendid' as he put it. I felt like some fresh air so I said yes.
As we walked, the conversation was a bit obvious, but I could tell he wanted a proper talk.
`So, it's a bit rough for you being left on your own most weeks isn't it? Your parents are in Thailand aren't they?'
`Yes, but I don't mind really. Mr and Mrs Kelly are really kind. I'm with them most of the time when I would have been on my own, and they take me out loads. I have all my meals with them.'
He told me that he had just done his A levels and left school. They didn't have to stay until the end of term once their exams had finished, apart from a couple of days they had to be there...Sport and Speech Days...that sort of thing We walked up to the outdoor pool. The double doors were open, and the water looked beautifully clear and was reflecting bright shapes on the surface. There was one leaf floating in the middle.
`That looks nice...do you swim Alfie?'
`Yes, everyone does. I often swim before breakfast to do lengths and stuff.'
`Is it open tomorrow morning do you think?'
`Yea. It's always open, but we're not allowed to use it on our own.'
`That makes sense. How about tomorrow morning then? What's that building over there?'
`That's our sports hall. It's only small but there's loads you can do in there. Do you want to see?'
Nothing gets locked up until the evening when the caretaker goes round securing everything. We walked in to that familiar slight odour of sporty places and sweaty socks.
`It's nice...not that big though.'
`No. It's years old, but it's big enough for badminton and five-a-side football.'
Max wandered over to the corner where there was a recessed area that contained various sorts of balls...soccer, soft rugby practice balls, and a couple of those really heavy ones called medicine balls. I always wondered why they're called that. I looked at him as he walked, and got that weird tummy feeling again. He looks nice in his shorts. I watched as he bent down to pick up a ball...one of the rugby practice balls. I had that feeling again, like nerves you get before an exam or something?
`Do you fancy throwing a ball about for a bit?' Max asked.
`Outside...on the field?'
`Yea. Good idea.'
As we walked towards an open space, we talked. I had questions for Max.
`So, were you one of Mr Kelly's students then?'
`No. Why did you think that?'
`Because he gets former pupils visiting sometimes. I just thought...'
`No. He's a friend of my mother's. We live in Norfolk...near Blakeney. He's my brother's father. Can you not spread it around if I tell you?'
`No of course I won't.'
`He got my mother pregnant...when I was twelve. I don't know who my father is, or was. She had no husband and she wanted another child. They were good friends so...well you imagine can't you? He had a year off from the school he taught at to paint. He's an artist as you know. He and my mother met somewhere and started coming round regularly...you know, staying the night and stuff. I used to go running with him early in the mornings. He was obviously a man and I was a boy, but we were friends...real friends. I still see him from time to time. That's why I'm here. He helped me a lot when things weren't easy. It was all very special.'
I tried to think of another question, but I was trying to take in what he had told me. To be honest, I was a bit shocked. Then he says...
`He likes you. He says you're one of his special boys...a `quality boy' as he puts it. I think he's right too.'
`How can you say that? That's silly. I've only known you ten minutes?'
`It doesn't take that long Alfie. Come on. I put the ball in the air and we both try to get it ok? Whoever gets it has to evade the other person who tries to catch him. Ready?'
`What happens when he gets caught?'
`He has to surrender the ball and chase the other player. Are you up for it?'
I smiled and nodded.
`Good. My kick first.'
He lifted the ball high into the air towards me. I ran a few metres to my left and caught the oval object cleanly. Max began to run towards me.
After ten minutes of that, I'd almost had enough. I held the ball up.
`I'm knackered Max. One more go?'
`Go on then.'
Max caught the ball nicely and waited for my attack. It took me several lunges before I nailed my man with a tackle around Max's waist, sliding lower around his knees to bring him to the ground. We lay there panting. I had my arm around Max's tummy, and then relaxed my grip on him.
`You're quite good at this Alfie.'
`Yes you are. Are we allowed to continue our game in the pool then?'
`Yea...but watch out, I'm better in the water.'
On the way to pool, the sweat glistening on our skin, Max told me about his school, prompted by my announcement that I was heading for E**n next term. Having spent seven years boarding, the fact that neither of us had swimming trunks with us was not an issue, especially as the campus was deserted. I looked at the clock on the main school building...seven o'clock. We had half an hour.
I was encouraged to see that Max's choice of underwear was similar to mine. I already had a good idea that it was, at least in terms of style. What with duck diving, twisting and turning and the like, those items soon found their way to bottom of the pool. By seven fifteen we'd had enough.
`Whose getting those then?' Max asks, pointing at the shapes lying on the bottom.
`I will.' I volunteered.
I was just a metre from Max. With my back to him, my duck dive was neat...straight legs and jack knifed body, and my momentum took me down deep enough to retrieve the articles of clothing.
`That was a neat dive. Would you like to do that again for me?'
I duly obliged, in as slow a motion as I could manage. I surfaced to face him.
`How was it that time Max?'
I laughed. I think `not bad' meant that my subliminal message had been received.
Max wrung out our pants.
`What shall we do with these Alfie?'
`Take them back to Merlin I suppose. Stick'em down the laundry chute.'
`Merlin? What's that?'
`Where I sleep. All the rooms are named after birds. Mine's called Merlin. Do you want to see? It's on the way back to the flat. Come on, I'll show you where it all happens.'
`I'm not sure I want to know about that, if it's anything like what we got up to at your age.'
`So where are you going tonight Max?'
`Dunno. Wherever I get put I suppose. I'm not in the flat though.'
`So where then?'
`The guest room I think he said.'
`That's in Swallows, That's our building. It's a little room at the end with its own bathroom.'
I know all this sounds trivial and dull, but when you first meet someone that you know you're going like, that's what happens I think. You both sort of beat around the bush, so to speak, until something happens that sparks you both off. I think Max has taken to me, at least I hope so. I'm getting encouraging vibes from him...just odd things he's said, and it sounds like Mr Kelly has put in a good word. By the way, Max reminds me bit of Dang. In what way you ask? Have a guess.
I showed Max our room in Swallows. He thought the wet room was fantastic. It is fantastic.
`Nice beds too Alfie. Better than the ones we had to put up with in Norfolk. Don't you find the communal ablutions a bit embarrassing?'
`No. Everybody does it don't they? We just do it together. I quite like it actually. It creates a bond between us so we're told. I believe that.'
We carried on up to the flat where there was a note pinned to the front door.
Gone to pub. Dinner 8.30 sharp. Spag bol
Max read the note and then looked at his watch, and then me.
`Shall we get the chlorine off us then? We've got half an hour.'
I wanted to ask Max because I needed to know and I thought it was worth the risk.
`Are we getting on ok?'
`Yes, we're getting on fine...aren't we? What are you getting at Alfie? Go on, be honest please.'
We stopped to look at each other.
`Well, what I really mean is...are we friends?'
`Yes, if you want to be. I do.'
`Do you really?'
`Yes, really. You're not upset about anything are you?'
`No, I'm just happy that's all.'
`So that's how you look when you're happy is it?'
`I suppose so.' I said trying my best to smile.
`So what do I have to do to convince you then? How about I scrub your back for you? Would that do?'
Head down, I nodded. I had that feeling again.
`Come on then.'
Being away from your family for such long periods of time isn't easy. Things get you down...silly things that build up in your head. Sometimes at night I just start crying for no reason. I almost did then with Max. I wish I had now, and shown him how I really feel.
I think it's the lack of anything physical, like an arm around you...anything like that. It's the need we all have to be held close to someone, so we feel like we belong. I want someone to belong to, here and now. I can't wait until I go home. It's just too long a time to wait. I want love here and now. I want to love and be loved.
I have sex here of course. Everybody knows that boys banged up in a boarding school have sex with each other, or the majority of the boys do. You don't have to be one of the better looking ones either...the attractive ones. You know the type...nice fair hair [like I have as it happens], nicely sculpted facial features, nice bum and so on. Yes, a nice bum is definitely an asset. It gets looked at, and there are ways of making sure it does. I've seen to that, or rather our Bangkok tailor has, and one or two of the boys have noticed.
`Are those shorts from the school shop?'
Well, it's not too big a fib is it?
The most convenient sex is with the boy in the next bed. There are no arrangements to be made, no places to find, no nipping off to the loos and all that stuff. No, if you're lucky, you'll find yourself next to someone who wants or needs a regular cum, and has other natural assets too. I've had mutual cums with every one of the boys I've been put next to, bar one I think, but they have varied in quality it has to be said, but they've all been nice kids but not necessarily friends...just a cummy buddie. It doesn't even require conversation, in fact you can't have a conversation because the others will hear you. Either you or he will give the signal, and then you get on with it. It sounds a bit cold but it's how it is. If all else fails, it DIY, but I know what I'd rather have. My current neighbour, Jamie, is quite cute really. He's my age but you wouldn't think so. He looks about nine, but he's almost thirteen. He's pretty quick too, which is not a bad thing. I like to take a bit longer. He doesn't want his bottom touched which is a bore. Consequently he won't touch mine which is even more annoying, still, needs must. I can't complain.
I've seen Max's bottom. No hair at all which surprised me. Dang has hair there and Max is a bit older. Something else too. Max has no hair at the front either. What's that about? Otherwise he looks great, but not as big as Dang, but I suspect as Thai boys go, Dang is an exception with that great sausage object of his. Some of the Thai kids are tiny down there, but almost all of them have lovely bottoms which they don't mind showing you. Their favourite trick is to turn away from you, and then look back smiling broadly, and pat their pert little bums as if to say, come and get it as and when you like, preferably now. Naughty boys. Then that little phase ends, and they suddenly look grown up and they're off with the girls...or boys.
Max doesn't want to be late for supper with the Kelly's, and it would be very discourteous of us if we were. The showering had to be a swift affair. There are two heads next to each other which I got going while Max got undressed, laying his clothes on my bed. He got under the generous cascade of warm water as I whipped off my shorts and joined him. I like the sound of the slapping sound of the water off bodies as it hits the floor.
`So, do you want me to do your back Alfie?'
I wasn't about to say no. The sensation of his hands all over my shoulders and back...well you can imagine. He avoided my bottom completely. I had visions of him straying lower, even in between to make a thorough job of it, but no, it didn't happen. I turned towards him to wash my front. He was carefully rinsing the head of his penis with the skin pulled back.
I was facing him as he dried my hair. Just for a moment I imagined love, and this was it. I edged closer so that our bodies almost touched. I was becoming breathless and I'm sure he knows now. The movement of his hands on my head stopped and I waited. He dropped the towel and his hands are on my shoulders now. I'm moving closer so that we touch. His hands are on my back and mine enclose him too. I lay my face against his chest. I can feel his heartbeat.
Please don't let me go Max...don't let me go.
Dinner at the Kelly's...
They were late back from the pub which in the event was probably a good thing as far as Max and I are concerned. We were there by eight twenty five, and I opened the front door of the flat which is up on the first floor of the Main Building. It's never locked. As they obviously weren't back, we wandered around in the sitting room and ended up together looking out from the large window that overlooks the field where we had played the touch rugby game. Max is looking thoughtful as I glance sideways at him without him seeing me, and I'm trying to guess his thoughts. We've taken a step into the unknown which I am so excited about, but is he? A few minutes ago we touched each other...not sexually, but the way humans do when they want to tell a person they've started to care. I can't be sure but I think Max wants me. There's no doubt about how I'm feeling. I desperately want him to be my friend, despite his age, and I want him to love me too, and not just in a platonic way either. Everything about him is turning me on. His body is to die for, and I've seen all of it already. Dang is bigger in that department, but I don't care about that. Anyway, I don't want him to be that big frankly, not with what I have in mind. One thing I know is that I have to be careful with him. He seems to be quite a sensitive bunny, so I don't want to come onto him too strong and frighten him off. I know I'm ready for it, and I want it.
`Sorry boys, dinner is going to be terribly late. Raf darling, can you find them something to drink please.'
They were both in the kitchen, and I always offered to help. I'd almost reached the door of the kitchen when I heard Mrs Kelly talking, so I stopped and held my breath, and listened. They were talking in lowered voices, but I could hear quite clearly...
`Well, the boys seem to be getting on well. That was a very good idea of yours Raf. Do you think it's ok to throw them together or keep them apart tonight?'
`Max is old enough to make his own decisions, and Alfie's a bright boy. I know him well enough by now. I think a guided and safe relationship would be good for him. I don't want him thrown to the lions at E*** because he lacks experience of handling relationships. Don't forget that Max was exactly that age, and he thrived on the responsibility of it all. There's no reason why Max can't offer some support for Alfie. I think both of them are ready. Let them get on with it if they both want to. I think it's probably more a question of how far Max will go, not the other way round. Alfie has been active for quite a long time.
True. I retreated back into the sitting room barely allowing myself to believe what I had just heard. Has all this been arranged specially for my benefit, or what?
Dinner was quiet. Mrs Kelly tried to keep the conversation moving, but both Max and I were a tad preoccupied to put it mildly. All I wanted to do was to be with him, and I had to find out if Max was here from his own choice or had been invited down, not that it mattered really. All that matters right now is that he's here.
I hope they didn't notice, but I'm not sure that I care if they did. I kept looking at Max over dinner. He tried not to look at me too much, but when our eyes met I looked away quickly. He's very handsome! When Mrs Kelly asked him how we were getting on, he blushed massively. Poor Max. I've never suffered from that affliction.
He's sitting opposite me winding his spaghetti around his fork trying not to get tomato sauce over his nice tee shirt. I'm watching him to see how good he is at that skill. Not bad...not bad at all. Then Mr Kelly wanted to know how things are up in Norfolk.
`How's Linda and that brother of yours?'
`They're fine thanks. Michael loved your birthday present.'
`Good. How's the new job going then?'
`Ok so far I think. At least she can have a bit more influence over how the place is run. Do you think you'll be back in the holidays?'
I'm getting hints about Max's life, but there's a lot more to find out about, and I actually want to know.
It was quite late when we had finished dinner, about nine thirty. I think Mrs Kelly had had enough because she said...
`I'll just stack the dish washer. You boys needn't wait. You both must be tired.'
Ok, that's fairly clear. Then...
`Do you mind not using the guest room Max. There's something up with the loo...keeps dripping apparently so Benson has turned the water off. Alfie, can you make sure Max has everything. Max, is it ok if you use one of the boys' beds? Choose any one...the sheets are changed on Saturdays. Sorry about that...it'll give you two a chance to chat. Is all that ok with you Max, or...?'
Max quickly said it was. Clearly Mrs Kelly wanted it that way...more convenient and practical.
Max opted for Jamie's bed. He pulled the covers back to inspect.
`Who is the usual occupant Alfie?'
`Is he nice?'
`Yes, ok. Do you want to see his photo? If you look behind the cupboard door you'll see all four of us.'
Max opened the door of the large built in cupboard where all our clothes are kept. Pinned up on the inside of the door was the group photo of us. Each room had the same.
`Umm. That's a nice one of you. Who's that?'
I thought he might pick that one out and he did. Max obviously has excellent judgement. Then he started inspecting the various piles of clothing, without touching.
`Those are Jamie's things.'
Max picked up the top pair, looked at the label and nodded his approval.
`Very tasteful. Are these yours?' he asked, with his hand on the next door pile.
`Uhuh. How did you know?'
`Oh, just intuition.'
`Do you sleep in them then? You all seem to have tons.'
`Sometimes. It depends.'
`The weather...what mood I'm in...that sort of thing.'
`So what mood are you in now? A keep them on mood, or a take them off mood?'
`Same mood as you I hope.'
He didn't rise to that. We completed all the necessary in the wet room. We both had the one article of clothing left on when we got into bed, me in mine and Max in Jamie's. There's roughly three metres between us. I asked Max if we could talk for a while.
`Yes of course. I've got loads to ask you.'
`Go on then.'
`Ok. So what's it like in Thailand then?'
I gave him a potted history of why we were there, where we lived, and what we did day to day. He liked my description of the various Thai boys and their antics, leaving out the gory details, at least for now. I thought a portrait of Pak in words might be an interesting topic if the conversation got a bit more intimate.
`So you're the little rich kid out there then?'
`Yes, in a word. We employ people who appreciate us, and we're very responsible employers. We aren't out there to exploit the locals. They're lovely people, my minnows.'
`Minnows? Who are they?'
`Yes. I call them minnows...little fish that swim around our pool nibbling at bits of you, like minnows do. It's lovely fun.'
`Sounds like it. Are they the kids of the people that work for your parents?'
Max wanted more detail, like ages, what they looked like, which one's I liked and so on. I laid it on thick. Eventually his curiosity got the better of him.
`So does anything happen then...if you know what I mean?'
`Oh yea...loads happens.'
I focussed on Pak. He's such a sweet boy, you would love him...his beautiful wriggly little brown body that would cling to me and not let go of me whatever I did to him. He is one of majority...circumcised. I only had to smile at him and he was all over me, poking me quite deliberately with his nail hard little willie...all three inches of it, bless him. I had some blissful times with Pak, and always ending the same way...happily. It was from him that I learnt his very particular skill to good effect. Thus far, I have not failed, but with the lovely little [and big] Thai boys...you're not going to fail. There are no unhappy endings.
Max had clearly been struck by the little photo of Jamie's face.
`So what about Jamie then? Any joy?'
`In what way Max?' I wasn't about to make it easy for him. I want him to spell it out...to admit his interest.
`In that way Alfie. He's not the equivalent of Pak here is he?'
`No, but he's not averse on occasions.'
We had put the light out so it was almost pitch black in the room. Max was lying on his side when I last saw him. I'm lying on my back and with thoughts of the beautiful Jamie in my head, I was ready to go for it. To be honest I was hoping Max would have me if he would get in with me. These beds are not very wide, but it is possible. But I've decided I'm going to give Max a bit of a treat. I'm going to give him a slightly enhanced version of what Jamie likes. It's not every night by any means...perhaps every third night he might ask me for it. I usually know in advance when Jamie wants me, so I'm ready for his little whispered request...
`Alfie. Are you awake?'
`No. I'm asleep Jamie.'
`Oh.' Silence reigns.
`You're not asleep are you?'
`No Jamie, I'm not asleep. What do you want?' As if I didn't know.
`Ok. You'll have to wait a minute. Don't do anything yet.'
I need a pee first. We don't have those urinal things so I sit on one of the two proper lavatory bowls. I have trouble fitting my half hard penis into the bowl so I have to bend it down and hold it to keep it off the white porcelain. It turns out to be more than a pee, so when all that's over, I transfer to the adjacent bidet. The temperature is set so all I have to do is to turn the tap on to the desired pressure. My preference is for a maximum effect which is one of the most pleasurable sensations I know of, apart from actual sex. I position myself so that the opening in my bottom takes the full force of the wide and hard stream of warm water. It's never hot water, just a nice warm temperature that cannot harm the delicate tissue of a boy's anus. I get it just right and my cock rises as the pleasant sensation up my bum transfers its thoughts to my cock. I loosen the skin over the head to reveal it fully. Now I'm ready to see to pretty little Jamie.
With Jamie it's simple. It's a matter of three fingers and a thumb. He couldn't wait so he's half way there as I draw back his covers to reveal his lovely flat tummy and tight little scrotum. His balls are barely evident. I wonder when this boy is going to grow up. I move his hand away, and take his little cock the way he wants me to and I begin quite slowly. He's further on than I thought and I'm in danger of irritating him so I go faster. This is the optimum speed for Jamie, but I will always know when he's going to come.
Jamie's tummy rises and falls and his breathing is irregular as I run my fingers through his ash blond hair. I blow little puffs of air into his ears. I slow the strokes on his cock and keep him hanging there, but that's enough now Alfie...let him come now, so I do, and he does with his usual sighs of pleasure.
I stay with Jamie for another five minutes and feel his body...his face...his ears because I love his ears...and I gently touch his mouth. I'm almost there myself now. He grips my balls tighter now, and as I feel the pressure mounting inside me, the intensity of feeling overwhelms me.
Now I'm wondering how Max is.
`Max...are you ok?' No answer.
I'm on my back, and I'm feeling with the ends of my fingers the tiny puddle of wetness that I have just produced. I didn't mean to come, but I have.
`Max...are you ok?'
`Yes thanks. I've had a bit of an accident Alfie. Can you get something please.'
`Have you? Oh dear. Hang on a minute.' I say, in a concerned tone of voice, as I think to myself...excuse me Max, that was no accident.
The light is minimal but I find the door to our clothes cupboard is ajar, and as I open it I feel for what I know is on that middle shelf, and towards the centre. There, these will do nicely.
I can just make out Max's bed and he's uncovered himself so that the tops of his thighs are exposed above the area of white cotton material straining across his legs, and all of his tummy and chest.
`Can I do it please?'
It's not an unpleasant task, at least I don't think so. The material I'm using is nicely absorbent and I get the job done reasonably efficiently. I run my hand over Max's tummy to check that I haven't missed any. No, all is dry now, warm, smooth and firm. Ah...tummy button...better check that. I find a little residue there and I deftly, and with one finger, remove it. I don't think Max saw.
I know who they belong to...what I've just used on Max's tummy, which he now has in his hand because there will be a bit more to deal with no doubt. He turns on his side as I leave him for my bed.
The end of chapter one