Date: Thu, 15 Dec 2011 09:45:52 -0800 (PST) From: Mike Pendragon Subject: Harrington 10 When I awoke on Saturday morning the first thing I did was reach behind me to tenderly touch my sore ass. It felt like a freight train had plowed through me. I was alone in Teddy's bed. I realized that my cock was soft. "Now there's a first!" I said to myself, and rolled out of bed and had a monstrous piss. My mouth tasted like the bottom of a bird cage, so I brushed my teeth and washed my face, then decided that I would take a bath instead of a shower. Maybe that would soothe my savaged ass. I eased into the hot water and slid down to stretch and allow the warmth to reach my ass lips, which burned slightly. I heard our door close and Teddy stuck his head in the bathroom, looking at me with concern and mirth. "So, did you hear the one about the two whores talking business," he asked rhetorically. "The one says to the other, `Do you smoke after sex?' and the first whore says, `Don't know, I never looked.'" I smiled at him and shook my head. I really didn't need this right now. My whole body ached and my head felt as if it was full of cotton. Teddy sat down on the commode and rubbed his hand across my temple, then the back of my neck, hitting all of the sore spots. He knew me so well -- every muscle, every nerve, what felt good and when. "That was so hot last night,' he said, pausing, waiting for a response. I was silent. "Mikie, you OK?" I shook my head up and down but didn't say anything. I wasn't quite sure what to say. Sure, it was fantastic sex, but I was confused: could I, should I, should we, share with other boys? Until that day under the willow tree, it had been our secret, our fun, our passion. Just the two of us. Now were we playing with other boys, discovering bodies, and sharing other secrets. Being 17, and horny as hell most of the time, it made sense that we would want to do as much as possible with as many as possible. At the same time, I thought this was just between us and that we were settled -- hell, almost married -- and would be together as a couple forever. It was very confusing. "I saw Chad at breakfast," Teddy said. "He wants to talk." "OK," was all I said. "Me, too. But not right now." I slid down into the large tub and when I emerged Teddy was back in our room. He gathered his books and left, the door clicking softly behind him. I drifted off and when I awoke the water was cold and grey. I pulled the plug and dried off, throwing on sweat pants and a hooded sweat shirt and tried to study at my desk. Teddy had one Saturday morning class, then athletics. I didn't have any Saturday school activities -- senior privilege -- but I did have a major paper due in two weeks and it had to be good. But I had a hard time concentrating. My ass was too sore to sit in a hard, wooden desk chair, and my mind was too fuzzy to comprehend anything I was reading. It was hopeless. I went to the dining hall and ate some limp toast and cold cereal. There were only a few boys around, the rest were in classes. Not wanting to study and not having much energy I decided to take a walk. It was a crisp fall morning, still slightly misty as I neared the lake. The air was intoxicating; smells of decaying leaves and final flowers and the scent of water. I walked faster and then broke into a trot, following a well-worn path around the perimeter of the lake. Halfway around, at the top of a slight hill, I paused to catch my breath and felt the need to pee -- three cups of tea at breakfast will do that to you. I pulled my sweat pants down at the edge of the trail and let loose, my golden stream arcing into the plants, steaming in the cool air. God, it felt good and I was half hard by the time I dribbled to a stop, shook off the last drops, and tucked myself in. I felt incredibly alive -- and horny. How could I be horny after last night? Was it possible to have too much sex? Was I becoming a pervert? I thought as I walked and I could feel my cock and balls as they rolled around inside my sweats. Without underwear or a jock the rough material was irritating and arousing the tip of my cock and I was almost hard as I walked along. I reached the highest point of the trail, overlooking the lake, and through the mist burning off from the surface, I could see the spires and towers and buildings of St. Philip's. I suddenly realized that I might never see this view again. Next year I would be at Harvard or Yale or Princeton and some other boy would be standing in this spot. It was my first intimation of mortality. I let the sun warm me, standing there, feeling the kinks and fuzziness of last night burn off. Even my ass felt better and I reached around and gently probed my hole from outside of my sweats. "And all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well," I said to myself. Katherine of Whitby? Isn't that what Trumbull said her name was. Trumbull. I never thought of him sexually. He was a master, a teacher. They were beyond the human conditions of horniness and lust, weren't they? I mean, like monks, didn't they take vows of poverty and chastity and purity? But if what Chad had hinted was true, Trumbull liked boys -- or at least looking at boys. And if you wanted to look at boys, Chad was a good choice. Come to think of it, Trumbull wasn't bad looking, either. I guessed he was in his early thirties, about 6'1, strong and handsome in an angular way, straight dark blond hair and wire-rimmed glasses. Sort of a jock but without a jock's attitude. He was absolutely brilliant in the classroom and he made Shakespeare and the Golden Age poets seem alive and funny and fun. Most of my English classes were with old Dr. Ferguson who had been there since Noah built the ark. I loved the Romantics in spite of Ferguson's pedantic classes and I was beginning to appreciate modern English and American writers. But I kept recalling how Trumbull made the seventeenth century seem so alive. I realized I had walked all the way to the main campus and classes were just getting out. Walking back to my dorm, Chad came bounding up and clapped me on the back. "Just got out of Trumbull's class and he wants you and Teach to join us for swimming this evening followed by a late dinner in his house," Chad announced. "See you at 4 by the old carriage house? That's where he keeps his car." Then he bounded off in the other direction. Teddy was back in our room, sitting at his desk, and I told him about Chad's invitation for tonight. "Sure," was all he said. He sounded a little peevish. ""What's wrong?" I asked, walking over and massaging his shoulders. He leaned back into my belly and sighed. "I'm not sure about this Trumbull thing," he said. "My father told me a story before I came to St. Philip's, warning me to keep away from certain masters here, especially old Menendez." I knew exactly who he meant and why Max gave his warning. Senor Menendez was a wiry, hoary old goat who taught Spanish and worked in the archives in the library. He scowled at everyone, said little, and smoked unfiltered cigarettes non-stop. I don't recall ever seeing him without a Pall Mall in his hand or mouth unless he was teaching or in Chapel. He gave everyone the creeps and the rumors about some of his boys -- mostly the New York crowd -- abounded. He used to hang around the locker rooms, especially after track and cross country, which he used to coach before he could no longer breath. He also had arthritis and was essentially semi-retired by the time Teddy and I knew him. Max Harrington loathed him, and told Teddy to stay away. I don't think the old fart was ever accused of inappropriate behavior -- and it was rumored that he was protected by the richest and most-powerful Trustees in the school -- but few of us liked him or wanted to be near him. And Max's story, carefully veiled, hinted at dark sins, a suspicious death, and a cloak and dagger coverup. I shivered as Teddy summarized the tale and it left me with a cold pit in my stomach and a bitter taste in my mouth. "So, you see, as much as I like Chad -- " he turned to me and grinned, "Have you ever seen a bigger dick!? -- I'm not sure I want to know or get involved with Trumbull and Chad if anything IS going on." I sat down next to him and held his face in my hands. "The only thing I know, Theodore Elliot Augustus Carruthers Harrington, is that I love you and would do anything you wanted or asked me to do," I said. "If you want the two of us to play with Chad and other boys, I agree, as long as we are open about it. If you want to play without me, OK, but only if you're honest. If you think it's OK for me to play alone, I'll never do it behind your back. But do know this, Teddy: I love you more than anyone in the world and I would spend the rest of my life with you if you want me to." I kissed him on the lips and hugged him. He hugged me back but not fiercely. We held onto each other for a moment and then he went into the bathroom and closed the door. I made my bed, threw a few clothes into a laundry bag and picked up my book. Teddy changed into his sports gear, gave me a clap on the back and went out for the afternoon games. About 3:45 Teddy came back and changed into shorts. "So we going or not?" he asked. I was surprised because of our earlier conversation. "What about not getting involved with faculty?" I asked. "I assumed you wouldn't want to risk anything." "Why not?" he said. "Trumbull's hot and I won't object to seeing Chad in the buff again -- although I don't want to pop wood in the pool, either." He wriggled his eyebrows at me and grabbed his crotch, giving his junk a good squeeze. "We could always perform some prophylactic relief before we go, I suppose." I got hard but shook my head. "Chad said they leave at 4, so we'll need to go right now if we want to catch them," I said, grabbing a towel. We wouldn't need swim trunks. "OK, you're loss," he responded, and snapped my ass with his towel. "Tag, you're it," he shouted, running from the room. I ran after him but he had too much of a head start and I caught up with him just as Chad and Trumbull rounded the corner at the same time. "Oh, hi, Dr. Trumbull," I panted. "Thanks for inviting us." "My pleasure. It's Mike, isn't it," and he held out his hand and shook it. He had a strong grip and one of my knuckled popped. "Oh, sorry. Did I hurt you?" "No, I'm fine," I said. "And you must be Theodore, right," he asked, turning to Teddy. "Or should I call you Teach?" "Um, Teach is fine, I guess," Teddy said, returning his strong handshake. "Great, let's go," and he walked over to one of the old carriage house doors and swung it open. Inside gleamed a large antique car. "I thought we'd take the Bentley today," he said, casually. "It's nice enough and I need to get it ready for winter in the next few weeks. I'll back out and you can hop in." He went into the garage and turned on the ignition, the motor starting with a low harrumph, and backed out. He sat on the right driver's side and Chad sprinted forward and opened the left passenger door and folded down the seat so Teddy and I could climb in back. The interior was all polished wood, silver and buff leather. It smelled old and musty and spoke of old money from another era. I was instantly in love with it. He backed out and the tires crunched on the gravel drive as we drove through the portico and out of the side gate of the school to the road. "This is a great car, Dr. Trumbull," I said. "How long have you had it?" "First of all, enough of the Dr. Trumbull bit," he said, catching my eye in the rear view mirror. "When we're off campus, I'm Tom to you three -- but only off campus. Not that I'd mind, but the head says we must demand respect or we'll never earn it." " But to answer your question: this is a 1937 Bentley 4.25 liter Sedanca sedan, previously owned by a southern European industrialist who died during the war. I've had it since I graduated from Yale, a present from my father." "Sweet," I replied and I stroked the leather seat and took a deep breath, inhaling the aromas that only an old car can provide. We rode in silence to the Y and he parked on a side street away from other cars. When we got inside we headed directly to the lockers. We were the only ones there and the place was deathly quiet. "In the mornings, it's a madhouse in here," he said, stripping down and wrapping a towel around his thin waist. He had a nice, tight body -- a swimmer's build -- and his chest was broad and hairy. "But this is the best time to come, when all of the little kids and the old men have taken off for the day. We'll have the place mostly to ourselves for another couple of hours." He turned and walked toward the showers, rinsed off and then into the pool area. Chad was already stripped and his pendulous cock swung widely as he walked to the shower, rinsed, and followed Trumbull. I glanced at Teddy and he whispered, "Seems OK to me. Nice car. Nice body." He stripped and rinsed and walked out. I was alone in the locker room, with a half hard on, suddenly shy and not sure I wanted to do this. I finished stripping and forced myself to stand under the cold water long enough for my cock to subside. As I walked into the pool area I saw Trumbull take a dive off the edge in the deep end, his perfect body arcing into the water without a splash. When he surfaced, he easily stroked to the end, turned and swam back. Chad came up to me and said, "He's an awesome swimmer. Champion at Yale, could have gone to the Olympics, and he keeps in shape by swimming as much as time allows." Chad scratched his crotch and said, "I swam in school before I came to St. Philip's -- and the fact that we don't have a pool almost made me go to Andover -- but I'm glad Trumbull sought me out and got me swimming here almost from the first week. He really wants to start a swim team but the Trustees don't want to spend the money for a pool. They think we should swim in the lake; that's why it's there." He put his towel on a hook and walked confidently over to the lane next to Trumbull, and dove in -- not as gracefully, but still a decent dive, and he swam vigorously. Teddy did a cannonball into the lane closest to me, soaking me and my towel, then surfaced and stuck out his tongue and swam a strong stroke in time with the others. I shivered and stood against the wall. I hated the water and I wasn't a strong swimmer, so I merely watched the others while they did laps. Trumbull was the first to finish and he hoisted himself out of the water and came over to me, dripping wet, gloriously naked, and quite comfortable being in his realm. "No swimming?" he asked, drying his hair and briskly wiping himself down. It was my first closeup view of his body and he was, indeed, beautiful. His cock was probably average size but perfectly formed and in proportion to the rest of his torso. He was hairy in a masculine way, not a gorilla and not a smooth youth. I guess I would describe him as athletic and robust. He caught me staring at his crotch and asked, "Not a strong swimmer? I stammered, "Well, no actually, I'm not. I just never spent much time around the water and nobody ever really taught me. So I just like being here and watching you guys." "Fair enough," he answered. "It's not for everyone. You're not afraid of the water, are you?" "Well, I prefer water that's warm and running, like a shower, but I don't think I'm afraid," I said. "I guess I don't have enough experience to decide that." He wrapped his towel around his waist as Chad and Teddy walked over, having finished their laps. "Usually, Chad and I swim longer," he said. "But I've invited all of you to dinner tonight -- I'm cooking -- so let's cut this a little short, shall we, and hit the steam room." He walked to the locker room door and disappeared. Teddy and I Iooked at each other and then at Chad, who simply mouthed, "It's OK," and followed Trumbull. Shrugging his shoulders, Teddy grabbed his towel and went in, completely comfortable being naked. I, on the other hand, was getting hard again and wasn't sure this was a good idea. When I got to the locker room, it was empty and I had no idea where they were. Then a hiss of steam from around the corner provided the clue I needed and I pulled open the heavy metal and glass door. A wall of steam hit me in the face and I coughed from the sudden moisture in my lungs. I couldn't see a thing, but as my eyes adjusted I saw Chad, Teddy and Trumbull siting on a long tiled bench running along the back wall. Trumbull edged closer to Chad and patted the small seat beside him. It was a tight fit and my legs brushed up against and stayed squeezed against his as I settled in. They were all naked but I still had a towel wrapped around my waist, which was instantly soaked by the condensed steam on the bench. It was hot in there and when the steamed suddenly erupted from the wall near my feet, I jumped and moved closer to Trumbull. Sweat poured off me and I felt short of breath. Teddy yawned and stretched his feet out and I glanced over to see his beautiful naked form in the half light, his cock sticking straight up even though he wasn't hard. Chad was hunched over but sat up and leaned back and his huge prong and balls hung low between his legs, dripping sweat from the tip. Trumbull was seated squarely upright, his back against the tile wall, his feet planted firmly in front of him. His towel was discretely placed on his crotch, balled up in his hands. I was not comfortable. I tried to move to my left, away from Trumbull, but I was wedged against the corner wall, which was hotter than the back wall. It must be where the steam pipes enter, I thought, as sweat dripped from my brow into my eyes. It stung and I tried to wipe it out with my wrist, which only added more sweat. I needed a towel, but I was sitting on it, and I was half hard, and I didn't want to stand up to unwrap myself. Another gush of sweat ran into my eyes and I couldn't stand it. Hard on or not, I needed to wipe my face. I tried to scrunch around and slide the towel from under me, but it was no use. I was tangled. Standing up was the only way. Turning slightly away from Trumbull, I stood and began unwinding the towel when a new blast of steam hissed out of the hole in the wall. It was the last thing I remember. I came to in the locker room, lying on a cold metal bench, a towel under my head and Teddy squatting beside me. "How ya doin', champ?" he asked. "You OK? You're not going to hurl or anything, are you?" I closed my eyes as a wave of nausea rolled over me and I thought for a moment that I would, indeed, puke all over myself and him. I swallowed and took a deep breath, holding it for a moment. The oxygen felt good and my head cleared and the nausea ceased. "No, I'm fine," I said without opening my eyes. "I'm really thirsty, though." "Chad's finding some ice water and Trumbell's bringing the car to the back door," he said. "Don't worry, we'll have you out of here in a jiffy." Chad padded up with a glass of ice water and a cold wash cloth, which he placed on my forehead. It felt good and I felt my body returning to normal. "What happened?" I asked from under the wash cloth. "I don't remember anything." "You fainted, dummy," Teddy said, giving my bicep a quick punch. Ow! "We'd only been in there a few minutes when you suddenly stood up like you were being launched by a rocket and you fell on top of Trumbull, landing face-first in his lap. Then you slid to the floor like some sort of jelly fish or something." Oh my God! My face was in Trumbull's crotch? And I was naked? And he was naked? A wave of nausea rolled over me again and I tore the wash cloth off my face. "I need air. I need water. I want out of here," I said. I tried to stand up but Teddy held me down. "Whoa there, champ. Take it easy. Here, have a sip of water and try to sit up without getting dizzy," he said, easing me upright. Chad handed me the water and I took a tentative sip. It tasted slightly metallic but it was wonderfully cold. I took another sip then drained the entire glass, feeling much better. It was only then that I realized that I was still naked and they were already dressed. I looked down, worried that I might be hard again, but my cock lay limp across my balls as if it had never been hard in my entire life. I suddenly shivered and said, "I should get dressed." Teddy helped me up and when I gained my balance I dressed and waited for Trumbull to return. We drove home in silence and they dropped me off at my dorm. Teddy helped me inside and tucked me into bed. "I'm going to have dinner with Chad and Trumbull but you should probably stay here," he advised. "No use hurling chunks at the dinner table, know what I mean?" I shook my head in acknowledgement, at once relieved and disappointed. As he turned to go, I asked, "Teddy, did I embarrass you today?" I felt on the verge of tears for some reason and I pulled the blanket closer. He turned back and sat on the side of my bed, caressing my head and looked into my eyes. "No, you didn't embarrass me at all. We were all worried that you'd be all right. The one to be embarrassed was Trumbull. When you nosed-dived into his crotch he jumped up, too, and his cock was as hard as steel. And it isn't small -- maybe not as long as Chad's -- but he's packing some serious weaponry down there. Too bad you missed it." He smiled and ruffled my still-damp hair. "Get some sleep. We'll talk when I get back." He walked away and quietly closed the door; I drifted off. I had some weird dreams but couldn't remember any of them when I heard Teddy return. I didn't know what time it was and I didn't care. I was ravenously hungry and I smelled food. I sat up and Teddy came over to sit on my bed. "Feeling OK?" he asked. "Yeah, much better," I said. "What's that wonderful smell?" "You missed a great meal, Mikie," he said. "Trumbull is an awesome cook. He insisted I bring back a plate for you. Beef Wellington, roasted potatoes, green beans almondine, and fresh bread. We had chocolate mousse for dessert but I couldn't carry that, too. Trumbull said he'd make one just for you when you're feeling better." He picked up a napkin-covered plate, a knife and fork, and placed it on my desk. "Monseigneur, your meal is served," he said, pulling back my covers and escorting me to the desk. It was delicious, perhaps one of the best meals I ever ate at St. Philip's. By the time I finished, I was sleepy again. We jerked off that night -- which we did most often if we were tired or too busy for more aggressive forms of sex -- just sitting across from each other in our chairs, watching the other stroke, peak, slow down, stroke, peak again and finally spray our cum. We had experienced two intense days so it was good to simply be alone together, sharing our own special boyhood time. I loved watching Teddy play with his cock and I tried to match his rhythms on my own cock as we stroked. We almost always came at the same time, as if we were somehow connected or one body, and then we'd mop up and go to sleep in our own beds. I wish it could have lasted that way forever.