J. H. P. Cash, 367

When I Were Nowt But a Lad 3

Charlie, who shared a study with Dab and me, was completely uninterested in having sex with other boys. He was the source of most of the Mayfair and Penthouse magazines that were passed around our year, and seemed perfectly content with them. He looked upon those of us who did have sex and relationships with each other with an amused tolerance. Indeed, amused tolerance was his usual demeanour at all times. He was a "scholarship boy" from Leeds and went back to a real council house for the holidays! He had a very broad Yorkshire accent which he exaggerated when talking to masters and he was frighteningly clever.

One half-holiday afternoon in our study, Dab brought up the topic of what Kemal and I had been doing in bed together. Charlie said something along the lines of "Yeah, I could hear you over in our half" (his bed was in the other section of North Dorm) and did a rather poor imitation of a posh boy going, "Ooooh, no, no. Please stop!".

Dab said "He's been bumming you, hasn't he?" and Charlie said, "You would know, Dabikins, darling." and gave a love-lorn little moue.

"Did Steve used to do you?" I asked, catching on.

"Did he!? Did him every which way, didn't he?"

"Fuck off, grockle!" Dab said. "Grockle" was the term for the ordinary people who lived in the area around the school and, by extension, anyone outside the school. I imagine that Charlie just laughed.

[Oh, alright, there's some poetic license here - I'm just trying to give a flavour of the conversation, OK?]

Anyway, Dab and I fell to discussing his experience of buggery, which he told me had begun while he was still in the Junior boarding House. I expressed surprise at this and Dab explained that they hadn't "really done it" - Steve was too big and Dab too little.

"But he tried. It hurt too much, though."

I think that I was a little miffed that Dab had never told me about this part of the sex he'd had with Steve. We'd had enough conversations about Steve the previous year.

"Well, it is a bit dirty, I suppose. So I didn't want to tell you" said Dab. "But now Kemal's doing you..."

I asked Dab if he had enjoyed it and he didn't answer but asked me if I had. I think that I said that it still really hurt, but that I was getting used to it. Guiltily, Dab said "It gets so you really like it. Did with me, anyway. Steve said it was the same with him when another boy first did him."

"What, so you really enjoyed it?" I asked. I remember that at this stage I was still very much in two minds about being fucked. I loved having a finger in my arsehole, but allowing Kemal to fuck me was still much more about his pleasure than mine. I once read someone saying how incredibly difficult it is to start smoking - it's really horrible and difficult at first - and yet somehow people persist and eventually become addicted. I think that I feel the same about buggery - fuck knows how one endures enough painful experiences before it starts to become exciting physically.

Anyway, Dab admitted that yes, he got off on being bummed by Steve and that by the end of the previous year they were "doing it nearly every time."

"Could I do you then?" I asked. "I mean, I'm not nearly as big as Steve, I don't suppose..." I don't remember whether Dab looked mopey, but I suppose he must have done, as he usually did when Steve was mentioned. But he said, "Yeah, I suppose. If you like."

I really don't know now why I asked. There wasn't any great urgency in me to fuck another boy. I think that I probably wanted much more just to be physically intimate with Dab again, and thought that suggesting we do something that he'd just said that he liked a lot would do the trick.

That night I slipped into Dab's bed rather than Kemal's and we embraced properly for the first time in about eighteen months or so. With Kemal and the other boys I played with, the sex was obviously fun, but with Dab it was affectionate as well. We kissed a lot and stroked each other a lot. In retrospect I suppose that some of this came from Dab's having been with Steve. He was much more into loving gestures like running his hand through your hair or licking your neck than any of the other 14 year-olds I had sex with. It was lovely just to cuddle and caress with Dab.

Dab mentioned how much easier and more comfortable it was being bummed in the privacy of a bedsit and when I didn't quite understand - the beds were just as narrow in bedsits - he explained about the various possible positions in which one could be bummed. I was intrigued and excited, but we agreed that on our sides, spooning, was the only realistic possibility in a dorm with others awake. God, the finer niceties of public school sex!

As we still lay facing each other I wet my finger in my mouth and reached around to try to push it into Dabs's arsehole. It did slide in after a little effort, but Dab told me to wait and took a little jar out of his bedside locker (they had little sliding doors in the sides, like hospital bedside units do these days). It was Vaseline and Dab whispered that it was what he and Steve had used. Much better than spit, he said. I poked a finger into the jar and started again on Dab's arsehole, while he put some Vaseline on my cock. A little belatedly, Dab then got his towel from where it hung on his locker and tried to put it under us. Vaseline got everywhere anyway. And I can't pretend that anything else went less awkwardly, really. Dab turned away from me and reached back to hold open his arse-cheeks and I moved against him and tried to find his hole with my cock. It kept slipping up into the crack of his arse instead of into his hole. Dab tried to guide me, but my cock was still too slippery. Eventually I understood that I should try to hold my cock at the base and guide it in that way.

My cock nearly wilted because of the messing about and because of the way my foreskin was pushed back once I did manage to enter Dab. But Dab was encouraging, and when I asked if it hurt at all he said that no, it was great. I kept slipping out at first but Dab tucked his knees up a bit and I finally got going. I still found the tightness pushing my foreskin right back a little disconcerting and, although very excited, decided that I wasn't going to be able to come in Dab. I withdrew and snuggled down to suck Dab's cock while wanking myself off with a slippery hand on a slippery cock.

A few nights later I asked Kemal if I could fuck him for a change and he explained that Tom bummed him and he bummed me and I should get a boy in the Junior Dorm if I wanted to bum someone. When I protested that Dab had let me bum him I don't think he came up with a very convincing response. I never did get to fuck Kemal. By the following year he considered himself a Bug Boy and stuck mainly to having sex with younger boys.

In the summer term of that year Dab had put Steve far enough behind him to be developing attractions to several older boys. I got to fuck him very occasionally (and got a little better at it) but he wasn't interested in fucking me. Now when a Senior boy came to chat to him after Lights Out, Dab was more flirty and giggly. And for the first time that I remember I actually started thinking of older boys as potential sex partners. I'd sucked Mike's cock that night in the Junior house, but I'd never really looked at older boys in quite that way. Well, not consciously anyway. Come to think of it, there were some boys in the school swimming team (of which I was a member, having grown up swimming every day) that I admired a lot. I suppose that I had little crushes on them, but they were not consciously sexual. Until that summer, anyway.

The House had two changing rooms in a new block built behind the old house and connected by a long corridor. Each changing room had its own bathroom with four baths along one wall and five shower-heads along the opposite wall. There were separate bogs as well. But between the Senior and Junior changing rooms there was a "Drying Room". This was a narrow room lined with hot water pipes from floor to ceiling in which we hung wet Games kit to dry. It was also a good place to go to dry yourself after a shower on a cold day as it was, of course, lovely and warm (if a little smelly - in a good way, kind-of). Thus naked Senior and Junior boys were able to come into contact with each other. Usually boys had towels wrapped round their middles, but that depended on exactly who was in the Drying Room and, of course, you'd have to take your towel off to dry yourself with it. Sometimes several boys would just be lingering and talking, with others nipping in and out just to dry off. Sometimes there was an obvious opportunity to flirt. And sometimes, say on half-holiday afternoons when the changing rooms were quiet, it was possible to have sex there.

I remember that summer term returning late from a fell-walking outing one half-holiday and ending up in the Drying Room with Dab, Roger (another boy in our year) and two Senior boys. I can remember the name of one of the Senior boys - Iain, but let's call the other one, um, David. Roger was bit of a House Tart (and I don't mean that in any way judgementally) - traditionally willowy, blond-haired and blue-eyed and a bit thick (he was the only boy in my year to fail all his 'O' Levels). He was leaning against the one wall without pipes his towel round his neck, flirting with Iain. Dab was flirting with David. I decided to get out of the way and went back to the Junior changing room. Dab followed me and said "Where are you going? Can't you see that Iain fancies you? He keeps looking at you." I had thought that that was because he wanted me to leave so that the four of them could get on with it.

"No, silly. Come back. He's had Roger loads of times. I think he wants you."

As we went back to the Drying Room, however, David and Iain came out and went into the Senior changing room. I'd like to imagine that there was a backward glance, but I don't think that there was. Back in the Drying Room Roger confirmed that Iain had said that he fancied me. He told us that earlier in the year he had spent a whole night in Iain's bedsit trying to make him spunk up as many times as he could in one night. He claimed six cums and when Dab and I expressed disbelief, he said, "Honest. It was. We slept a bit between spunks, but the last time was just before the kid on Early Call came in. Iain was on Parade Duty. "House Parade" was the early morning punishment given by monitors - it meant getting up about a half-hour earlier than usual and doing some housekeeping tasks around the House. A different monitor supervised the detail each day. Dab asked if Iain had actually made any spunk that last time and Roger grinned, "Not much, but enough to taste."

I was now led into hoping that Iain would perhaps come to chat with me after Lights Out and arrange for us to meet later in his bedsit.

I started writing my sexual memoirs at the request of an online undergraduate friend who had been to an all-boys private day school at which there was little sex between the boys. He was keen to hear about "what went on at boarding school".

Thanks to those who have emailed to say that they have enjoyed reading the first couple of chapters.

Email: spelchek@hushmail.com