J. H. P. Cash, 367

When I Were Nowt But a Lad 5

One half-day afternoon I was sucking off Roger in the Junior showers when he asked if I was still interested in "doing it" with Iain. Because I was on the school swimming team I managed to avoid being involved in all school and most inter-house cricket games. That meant being able to get to the changing rooms well before most of my housemates on half-days in the summer, when most of them would be engaged in over-lengthy cricket matches. If don't know what Roger's excuse was - possibly he had a "Leave Off Games" chit from the Matron on the grounds that too many older boys would be distracted by the sight of him in cricket whites. Anyway, we had the showers to ourselves and I had been allowed the rare treat of sucking the cock of the (allegedly) most beautiful boy in the house. Personally, I fancied Dab and Kemal a lot more than I did Roger, but it was still a bit of an honour.

Asking slightly tangential questions in the middle of sex was one of Roger's endearing little habits. His concentration skills weren't good (it couldn't have been my cock-sucking skills). I looked up from where I knelt in front out him and saw that he was looking a little distracted.

I took my mouth off him and said, "Well, um, yes. I guess. He's nice."

"He is nice. And he likes you."

"Was it true what you told us about making him spunk-up six times in one night?" I asked.

"Oh yes. It was fab. He's so fit. You should ask him to come and get you one night."

"I couldn't do that! It'd be too embarrassing."

"But I told you, you spaz: he fancies you. He won't mind."

"Yeah, but still..."

"Oh, for fuck's sake! I'll ask him for you."

I thought about telling him not to, but then just shrugged and got on with sucking his cock. He soon pulled out and then turned around. Thinking that he wanted me to fuck him I wet a finger in my mouth and started to try to push it into him.

"No. Lick me. Please? I'm all clean." asked Roger, half-turning to give me his best House Tart smile. His arsehole did indeed smell slightly of the carbolic soap provided by the school, so I got him to turn his shower back on and rinse himself again before I rimmed him. He wanked himself off while I licked at his hole, and then, as far as I remember, wanked me off after he'd spunked.

The correct form would have been for Iain to come and "have a little chat" with me soon after Lights Out and arrange to come back and wake me later. So I was a little confused to be shaken awake at about eleven thirty that night by Iain. He was still apparently fully dressed in his uniform.

"Come on" was all that he said.

A little dazed, I walked with him to his bedsit. As far as I knew, this was breaking with convention as well. Usually, as I understood it, you'd wait a few minutes and then follow your older partner. Iain wasn't making much of an effort to be quiet, either, which made my careful barefooted steps seem a little silly.

"Sorry," Iain said when we were in his bedsit. "Couldn't see you before. Roger only spoke to me at Roll Call and then we had a Monitors Meeting with Toodle and by the time I got up here you were asleep. It seemed stupid to wake you up to tell you that I'd wake you up later." "Toodle" was our Housemaster's nickname and Roll Call took place each evening at eight thirty, just before boys started going up to their dorms in staggered waves, by year-group.

"It's okay, isn't it? You do want to?" Iain checked, putting a hand on my shoulder. My eyes were still getting used to the light in the bedsit, but I could see that he was smiling.

I remember feeling suddenly, strangely, very sad. I don't think that I understood that sadness at all at that moment. I just put my arms around Iain, under his blazer, and started crying into his chest.

"Hey, what's up?" asked Iain. "We don't have to do anything. Don't be silly. Hey. Calm down."

I cried harder. Iain hesitantly put his arms around me. I hugged him tighter.

Eventually I managed to say, "It's not that. I do want to. It's just, well, you're so nice."

Iain took me over to sit on the edge of his bed and sat down beside me. I put my arms round him again and he put one arm round my shoulders.

How do "I" come over in these writings? Probably quite confident and light-hearted? Certainly by this stage I had mostly out-grown the homesickness of my first couple of years, and my sense of separateness was somewhat alleviated by having close friends like Dab and Kemal and Charlie. But I still had bouts of sadness about, well, I suppose those things that 13 year-olds have bouts of sadness about, and then being 8,000 miles from my parents and still a little fucked-up by being in classes with boys mostly a year older than me and in Games with boys mostly a year younger. I remember that earlier that term I had gone to see my older brother, who was in the same House and then in the Lower Sixth, feeling unhappy about something - something to do with my parents, I think - and he had said, "Well, what do you expect me to do about it?"

Boarding school provided plenty of distractions from introspection, but it was usually lacking in privacy when you needed it or comfort when you needed that. The affection and comfort that Dab provided was unspoken, just implicit in how he was as a friend and as a partner in sex.

Something about Iain's hand on my shoulder, his smile and the tone of his inquiry about my willingness had really "set me off", as we would have said.

I don't remember if he asked again what the problem was, but I started telling him anyway: all the things I worried about but never talked about to anyone because you were just meant to get through stuff at school. Boarding school particularly.

At some point when I was no longer crying but still pouring it out, he gently disentangled himself from my arms and started undressing. When I stopped talking to look at his chest, he told me to go on.

But I couldn't. I watched him strip naked and was a little surprised when he then put his pyjamas on. I'd seen that he wasn't hard. He put on the bed-head light and switched off the main light. He told me to shove over so that he could get into bed and then pulled me in after him. I don't think that I quite understood what was going on, but Iain had his arm round my shoulders again and that felt good.

I said something like, "I've spoilt it all, haven't I?"

I've no idea what Iain said but he talked quietly for a little while about what I'd come out with. I got drowsy listening to him.

"Feeling better now?" he asked as I relaxed.

"Uh huh." I replied.

"Good." said Iain, starting to unbutton my pyjama top. As I struggled to take it right off, he pulled my pyjama cord and, as I kicked my bottoms down the bed, Iain took his pyjama top off. I moved to undo his bottoms, but he stopped me and said, "Just wank me".

I did, and Iain rolled to prop himself above me on his elbows. I was wanking myself with my left hand. It was very exciting to have this Big Boy looming over me and looking down at me. He came very quickly and his spunk landed all over my tummy. He stayed propped up as I switched to my right hand and wanked myself off. I loved the feel of Iain's spunk on me, and so also came quickly, albeit just a few tiny spurts. Iain lay down on his side and pulled me against him. Usually, with other boys, we'd wipe up after coming, but Iain never bothered much when I was with him. I rather liked falling asleep feeling the stickiness on our tummies.

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 all those who have emailed to say that they are enjoying these memoirs.

Email: spelchek@hushmail.com