Date: Sun, 30 Nov 2008 17:09:51 -0800 (PST)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Christmas,  London 1942 3

Christmas, London 1942- Part 3

by Bald Hairy Man

This is a story about gay men and gay sex. If you don't like that DON'T
read it. You have been warned. It is intended for adults to read, not for
minors. It is a fantasy, not a sex manual.  No effort to portray safe sex
practices has been made.  If you have any comments send them to
bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com.

Templeton was chatting with a Etienne and Louis. Actually they were talking
and fondling together. Templeton volunteered that he'd love to fuck
someone.  Much to my surprise, both Etienne and Louis were willing as was
Johnnie, who was close enough to over hear.  Etienne, the smallest of the
men got the prize. He got on his hands and knees. Johnnie was a
disappointed loser, but he found some lubricant and covered Templeton's
dick and Etienne's ass hole with it.

Johnnie had thick fingers and he lubricated the inside of Etienne's ass so
the French man was already fucked by the time Templeton was in
position. Templeton got Etienne's legs on his shoulders then eased his huge
member into the diminutive man's behind. It was oddly like one of those
Keystone Cops situations. The cock seemed bigger than the man. Templeton
kept on pushing deeper and one half expected to see his cock emerging from
Etienne's mouth.  Remarkably it fit, and even more remarkably, Etienne
loved it.

I thought watching a man shoving his cock into another man's ass would be
distasteful or ugly. The obvious enjoyment of the two men made it
arousing. I had some understanding of what Templeton was feeling, but no
idea what Etienne felt. It seemed that the crudity of the action was
unrelated to the passion and pleasure they felt. It had to hurt, I thought,
but whatever Etienne felt, it wasn't pain. While it looked as if Templeton
was committing assault with a blunt instrument, something else was going
on.

For the first dozen thrusts, Etienne seemed tense, then he relaxed. He
began to undulate his hips to maneuver the invader into unexplored recesses
of his body. I began to see them as a single sexual being. Templeton
adjusted his trusts to better respond to Etienne's hip movements. Once and
a while he'd shove hard, or from another angle. This kept the French man
off balance a little. It was almost a ballet.

I found myself staring at Etienne's hole. Certainly the ass is a man's
least attractive physical feature. Templeton was playful and he toyed with
Etienne's hole. At first it firmly shut between each penetration, but later
it remained slightly open. If Templeton took too much time between thrusts,
it would open as if to invite the monster back into his body. Several times
I saw Etienne's hole almost kiss, or caress Templeton's bloated cock
head. It struck me as being intimate and almost beautiful.

They climaxed and the rest of were aroused so we returned to conversation
or sex.

I had seen the Wizard of Oz with my granddaughter before they left for
Canada. She was frightened by the witch, but greatly relived when the vile
woman melted. My grand daughter was an outgoing girl and you could almost
see her mind doing battle with the witch. My daughter told me she wanted a
bucket of water by her bed that night.

I had been amused by the motion picture, but since then had been thinking
about it as I went about my daily tasks in London. Whether it was the
Wizard of Oz, or Through the Looking Glass, it now seemed easy enough to be
transported to another world in a split second. I had been a resident of
the greatest city in the world, the capital of a great Empire. Now it was
being reduced to rubble, and I was trying to save fragments of our
past. Who would have thought all the great works of Wren could vanish.  It
was just a matter of time before St. Paul's would be bombed and burned.

In the same way I had lived a life of total conventionality. Indeed I never
rose to the top tier of the profession because of my
conventionality. Lutyens could create the bold design. I could only draw
it. My sexual life probably did not even rise to the level of
convention. It was all but non existent. Now I was in the basement of my
house, surrounded by fornicating naked,

I found myself with Wally, the horse hung organist of a bombed out church,
talking about man sex. "Templeton said you discovered sex in the School for
Choristers.  Was it a shock? Did they molest you?"

"We boys played amongst ourselves of course. That was all part of being
curious and bored boys," Wally said. "I know several masters lusted after
the pretty boys, but I wasn't one of those boys. I was rather big and
ungainly. I matured early.  FortunatlyI had a knack for playing the organ
and piano, so I stayed on as a back up rehearsal organist and a bass
baritone if that was needed."

"I was always a leader of men in some ways and I could keep the younger
boys in line.  I was firm, but understanding, something some of the masters
couldn't understand. I discovered sex with the Sextant, Eustace
Maddinley. He was a surly man that haunted the halls and tried to see how
unhelpful he could be. One day I had to fetch him from his rooms above the
carriage house of the rectory. I found him with his cock hanging out
wanking."

"That must have been a shock?" I said.

"A shock at first, but then an opportunity," Wally continued. "I had never
seen a adult cock before, and Eustace's had a long white snake. I just
leaned over and sucked it. I had some experience with the boys, so I was
pretty skilled at that. Eustace rewarded my effort with a mouthful of
Sextant seed. Eustace became a nicer man after that.  I dropped by to see
him regularly. His bad temper was due to sexual frustration, not his
personality."

"You seduced him?"

"Not really. It wasn't a love affair.  It was just two blokes helping each
other out. I had thought he was an elderly man, but he was
forty-five. Oddly he was better looking naked than dressed. Eustace had
lost his good looks in the War. It was a head injury and there was brain
injury too. I think he remembered when he was handsome and desirable. I
grew to like him.  If I sucked him off, he be good for a day. When I fucked
him his good humor would last almost a week."

"You fucked even then?"

"My pecker was full grown by the time I was 14. Eustace screwed me a few
times.  His cock was long and thin. It fit easily," Wally said. "It was
only fair that I got to fuck him. Mine wasn't easy, but after you've had
you brains partially blown out by a Boche bullet, my cock wasn't that
bad. He whimpered a little, but he soon was moaning in pleasure."

"We also had one very shy under master named Lloyd Edwards. He was a
perfect Welsh tenor, a beautiful voice.  He was from some god forsaken
valley in Wales and was at the school due to his ability rather than social
connections.  Needless to say the other Masters only tolerated him." I knew
the school was stylish and was familiar enough with the curse of England,
snobbery.

"Lloyd was good with the boys, and I recognize the same sort of need in him
that I saw in Eustace," Wally continued. "We were discussing a troubled
boy, when I left I put my arm around his shoulder. He jumped a little, but
I kept on talking and he put his arm around me. He said he was a bit on
edge. I told him I had a solution for that.  Well one thing led to
another. Eventually I introduced him to Eustace and they hit it off."

"Was that love?"

"It may well have been," Wally replied. "Lloyd had done nothing sexual in
his life except for a guilt filled wank once and a while. He had 35 years
of pent up needs. Eustace and I took care of that.  He liked to suck, he
liked to fuck and he liked to be fucked. His cock was as long as mine, but
with a bigger head and a thinner shaft.  It met Eustace's needs perfectly."

"Did it meet your needs?"

Wally nodded. "When I went off to University I found a replacement for me
among the boys. Christopher Smith-Thomson was only 14. He was fully mature,
and nice boy marred only by the sex drive of a bull elephant. I discovered
he was directing his energies toward some of the younger boys.  That wasn't
good, so I introduced him to my friends."

"Did that turn out well?" I asked.

"Exceptionally well. I later discovered Christopher's aggressive tendencies
were due to his nasty and demanding father. He wanted a father's
love. Eustace and Lloyd provided that, love and guidance too. Christopher
had a horse cock. It looked monstrous on such a slip of a boy. He liked to
top. By then both Eustace and Lloyd were accustomed to big meat and they
took it well, as did I for that matter. I got him to take Lloyd's cock.  I
appealed to his sense of fair play."

"When Lloyd shot his seed deep into Christopher's rectum, Christopher's
life changed. He was complete. Lloyd pulled out his still drooling cock and
I saw that wasn't enough for Christoper. I got Eustace to screw him. I
screwed him next and by the time I made my deposit, Lloyd was ready for a
second session. Christoper loved it and he loved them."

"He wanted acceptance from an adult male?" I asked. "Does the story have a
happy ending?"

"It does as far as I know. Christoper's father died and left him a wealthy
man. He's married now and had several children, but Eustace is his
gardener. Lloyd is still teaching in London as far as I know. Christoper
visits London often." Wally said. As he talked Wally had been stroking my
cock.  I had the sudden realization I was too far gone and I was going to
shoot. We were both covered with sperm.  That didn't bother Wally at all
and seemed to inspire Jan. he came over and licked the quivering globs of
seed from Wally's hairy chest and gut.

It was getting late and we all fell asleep.

We were up early and got to the truck early.  It was another clear, cool
day with a bright blue shy and only a few whips of smoke.  As I slept I
must have thought about the coming days work. I had a plan. As it turned
out, Angus had a similar plan. We merged them and we got a great deal
done. Templeton rang up a friend at the national gallery and they sent
someone over to help with the Rubens. The painting had been in the
collection of a minor nobleman who gave it to the church when Rubens was un
stylish and he married a Presbyterian women who didn't like papist
paintings.

It wasn't that large, but it sat in the middle of a large altarpiece. The
carving of the Altarpiece wasn't by Gibbons, but it was quite good none the
less. It was later Georgian, but the carver obviously understood the
painting.  The carving was lush, but not overwhelming. Our first thought
had been to save just the painting, but I decided we should try to save the
framing altar piece too.

We had a good plan of attack and went at it with vigor. Two people arrived
form the National Gallery. A rather sour older woman was in charge. She was
accompanied by a cheerful younger man. It was a surprise to see a young
man, but I noticed his left arm was deformed. The battle ax was Dr. Smythe.
The younger man was Dr. Evan Jones. Smythe's specialty was pre Renaissance
Italian Primitives and she couldn't have had less interest in Rubens. Jones
was normal. Fortunately Smythe said it was cold and left.  All London was
cold and largely unheated.  It struck me as a poor excuse, but we were well
rid of her.

Jones was a find. He was new to the gallery and did most of his work
hanging paintings. Actually most of his work was taking down paintings and
crating them so they could be sent to safely in the country. We couldn't
have found a better man.  He also knew how Gibbons' assembled his carvings
and where they normally would be attached together.  He took Jan and Louis
to take apart part of the choir stalls.

Johnnie, Pavel, Louis and Dan were with Angus shoring up the roof
girders. The made much better speed than I had thought. When that was done,
it would be safe enough to get the Rubens.  We took the triangular pediment
off the top of the altarpiece, when we did smoke began to rise from the
rear.  We quickly pulled the entire altarpiece away from the wall.
Remarkably it came off in once piece. As we did the wood blocking behind it
all but exploded into flame.

Apparently a cinder from the fire had been smoldering since the bombing.
When it got oxygen it ignited. We had a frantic five minutes as we pulled
all the burning pieces of wood off the rear of the Altarpiece. I don't know
how we escaped getting burned. Jones was a marvel. He got the burning board
that backed the painting off before the fire damaged the Rubens. He did it
with a screwdriver and with only one arm. We quickly detached the painting
from the altarpiece. We had a whisk broom and brushed away the soot.  It
was a dramatic interpretation of the Crucifixion. The painting was about
three by four feet and appeared to be in good condition.

"What's this picture on the back?" Johnny asked. We looked at the
back. There was a second Rubens painted there.

"My God!" Jones exclaimed. "It's a oil sketch for the nymphs and Tritons in
the Louvre." I vaguely recalled the paintings celebrating the wedding of
Henry IV and Catherine De Medici. This was a spirited composition of nude
sea nymphs and Tritons who greeted the couple.

"This changes everything," Jones said. "Rubens ran a large studio, so
assistants did much of the work. Rubens himself did the sketches.  This
means the painting is a Rubens by Rubens himself. Very rare and important."

"If we were to sell it could we rebuild the church with the proceeds?"
Templeton asked.  He was a vestryman and a painting this valuable might
well change the future of the church.

"I rather think so," Jones said. He went off to find a phone so he could
ring up the Gallery.  We completed disassembling the Altarpiece and putting
out the remaining fires. At some point the fire would have broken out and
the Rubens would have been lost. We were just in time.

This entire episode turned out to be a sensation. Britain was exited by any
event that was not a disaster at this point in the war. "Rare Rubens
Rescued from Ruins," was the best of the headlines. "From Ashes, Beauty"
was another. "Salvage Team finds Masterpiece," was my favorite.

It was good for our team too. Retired gentlemen playing soldier in the Home
Guard, or as Air Raid Wardens were the subject of jokes as were the
refugees who had found safety here. We were referred to as a rag tag group
of retirees and refugees who were doing their bit for Britain. Manual labor
was difficult for these men, and this discovery made it more than
acceptable.

The next day the papers were there taking pictures of us saving the
Grinling Gibbons carvings.  The painting was at the National Gallery. We
were the heroes of the moment. I sent the clippings to my family in
Canada. My grand children were most excited.

The night we discovered the Rubens sketch, Angus suggested I ask Jones to
join us at dinner at my house.  "I think he'd make a good addition to our
group," he said.

"What makes you think that?"

"Just think of it as a new form of Radar," he said. I asked him to join us.
Jones accepted. Angus was right, Jones was well suited for our group. I was
Gussy to the group.  Dr. Jones quickly became Evan. He loved my house and
the warm basement.  I had no particular vision of what he actually looked
like, since he was enshrouded in a heavy wool over coat, tweed suit add
vest as well as miscellaneous scarves and gloves.

Naked, he was beautiful.  He was young, in his late twenties or early
thirties, slim and well built. He had curly blond hair and a muscular
body. His chest was covered in blond hair and a trail of hair connected it
to the bush. He had pale ivory skin with pink nipples and pink
genitals. His bad arm was normal to the elbow, but the rest was
undersized. He had the hand of the six or seven year old.

I would have thought he would be uncomfortable with the older and much less
attractive men who made up our group. That wasn't the case. Not only was he
at ease being nude as we bathed, he was partially erect most of the time.
That didn't bother him and it surely didn't bother the rest of us. Pavel
was the shyest man in our group and he hit it off with Evan. Pavel was a
solid man of fifty or so. He struck me as sad. I guessed he was dwelling on
the situation of his family in Prague.  He spoke German and Czech. Since
the rest of us could speak only English and French, Pavel was left out.

Evan spoke English, French and German. When he was with Evan Pavel smiled
and he immediately became a more attractive man. I had thought Pavel was an
all potatoes and no meat man, but inspired by Evan Pavel's cock made an
appearance.  He was only half hard but it would be massive a full
erection. Apparently I was the only man in the group who didn't recognize
Evan's sexual inclinations.

Jan was discretely sucking Templeton in a corner of the room. Evan noticed
that and fondled Pavel's cock.  Angus joined them and the young man dropped
to the floor and sucked both of the older men. When he switched from
sucking Pavel to Angus, I saw Pavel was well endowed indeed.

I smiled to myself that I was thinking about a man's genital endowment. In
my heart of hearts I realized this was an aspect of my life that was always
there, but I had suppressed it so completely I could convince myself it was
merely a passing fancy. Not that I admitted I had these thoughts. I felt
liberated and freed.

I was very hard now. Etienne saw that and came over to me. He sucked me for
a little while then got in his hands and knees. I knew what to do. I got my
saliva lubricated member at his hole and pushed. He didn't open for me. I
spit on my hand and coated my knob again and pushed a second time.  This
time my knob popped through his sphincter. A second later my cock was in
his warm and welcoming hole.

I wasn't use to either warm or welcoming. I was a little afraid that
Etienne would be disappointed in my cock after taking Templeton monster,
but that didn't seem to be a problem. I had never fucked a responsive
person before.  It was a shock and a pleasure. While I was fully aware that
my cock gave pleasure to me, I had never used it to give pleasure to
another. Etienne loved it.  I slowly slid in in and out of his ass,
enjoying every inch of his hole. He relaxed when I pushed in, then
tightened as a pulled out.  He caressed my member with his ass. It was
lovely.

"Go slow," he said in French. "I want it to last."

I took my time. It only got better.  When I got close shooting, I slowed
down and postponed my ejaculation. Etienne climaxed first.  I felt his body
twitch and shiver and the orgasm gathered speed. Remarkably, my first
ejaculation was a second after his. He moaned.

When I pulled out I was still drooling sperm. I felt like a new man. Angus
had been watching. He smiled. I took a shower and discovered I was still
excited. I wanted to do it again. The room was awash in warmth and sex. It
was quiet with only the sound of breathing and distant bomb blasts. Evan
came over to me.

"This house is a marvel," he said.  "To feel both safe and warm seems
remarkable. I have a room in Bloomsbury.  The building next door was
bombed.  My room provides shelter from the rain and light winds, but little
else." As we talked my cock got excited. I was embarrassed until I saw Evan
was in the same state. Evan stroked it.

"I watched you with the Frenchman. It looked like fun," he whispered. "It
looks like you are ready to go again. I was thinking I might take a seat on
it?  I hate to sound forward, but I get excited by a man with a big knob."

I got on the bed and he straddled me. Angus appeared with some oil. He
coated my cock and worked some into Evan's ass. The young man sat back on
my cock. He bounced on my cock head for a while, then he took the plunge. I
popped into his ass. He winced a little and waited a few seconds, then he
impaled himself.