The Opening Moment
This story is set in England in the 1930's. Most of the incidents are true.
I would be pleased to hear from any men who had similar experiences or who went to boy only boarding schools either then or in the period up to the 1960s.
I was very sad when I was taken out of class by my house-master, and told that my mother and her best friend had been killed in a shocking motor accident.
Since my birth I had never been heavily involved with either my mother or my businessman father, so there was no great devastation, but I did feel a sense of loss of something that I should have feelings towards.
My grandmother had been responsible for my up-bringing from birth. When I was seven I was shuffled off to an all boys boarding school. I found much more happiness with my chums and masters, and found that I was able to excel at sports. My great passion was cricket, which at an English school was a natural priority.
Now at twelve I was captain of the junior grade team, and revelling in the adoration of my school chums. Also my house-master was very complimentary of my attitude to both my studies and my sport.
When he informed me about my mother's death, I held my tears for a few moments and then the realisation began to sink in and a flood overcame me and I cuddled up against Mr Wilson. I felt good in his arms.
The funeral was as I realised many years later, a typical English affair, with lots of female relations cuddling me, and offering sympathy. My dear grandmother had died two years previously, and I must say I had greater feeling towards her death than I did for my mother. My mother had been distant from me and had never cuddled me that I could remember. She and my father rarely visited my school for any functions, and when it was vacation time I would be shipped off to organised holiday camps, be they skiing, hiking, or visits to major world cities with a group of, in most cases, totally non-memorable chums. Most came from similar family situations to myself, but instead of accepting their parent's indifference, these little shits, performed like third rate actors. They complained about any minor thing, seeking attention that they craved but was denied from their biological founders.
I had long ago accepted my situation and must thank my grandmother for directing me to accept that I was not part of my parents life-style agenda.
At the funeral and after I noted that my father showed no feelings at all for my mother, but was continuously in the company of the husband of the other woman who had been killed with my mother. At one stage I noticed that he held Mr Akers hand and even squeezed it. He hardly noted that I was present, so I was feeling that it would be great to get away from here and back to my school, where at least I had some friends I could chat with and where my sporting activities gave me the adoration I adored.
Then I noted several older men looking at me and smiling, as my father did at last indicate my presence. A few minutes later Mr Ashcroft came over and started chatting to me. He was nice, not unlike my house master Mr Wilson, but younger. I felt that he was about as old as my father, but much better looking. He asked me about school and soon I was chatting away with him about cricket and rugby, and other matters at school. At last I felt comfortable with someone at the funeral, and my initial thought of quickly returning to school faded.
My father didn't come near me again, and when the after-funeral gathering was breaking up, Mr Ashcroft suggested that I might like to come back to his home. It then dawned on me that it was Thursday evening and there would be little point in going back to school as my grade, with house master Mr Wilson had already left for a visit to Brussels, and there would be no one at school.
I sensed a feeling of niceness about Mr Ashcroft, and he grabbed my arm gently and we proceeded to go to the bedroom I had really rarely slept in at our grand house. There I gathered the small suitcase of clothes I had brought from school with me.
We stopped off on the short drive to this nice man's home and had tea at a very quaint old style tea-house run by a couple of elderly ladies. They fussed about me and I was thrilled when they complimented me upon my manners and knowledge of the finer matters of life. Mr Ashcroft's smile made me feel warm inside. I liked this man.
His house was a nice country cottage, but what surprised me most was that only one room had a bed in it. It was a large double bed and off it was a small bathroom with a bath-tub, an open shower, a toilet and a french bidet. The other rooms were filled with books and there was a special smoking room with comfortable leather chairs in front of an elegant open fireplace. The house had a cosy feel and I immediately felt at ease and comfortable.
We sat and chatted in the smoking room and then as the temperature dropped Mr Ashcroft suggested that we head off to bed.
He asked me if I needed a bath, and after the long day at the funeral, I sincerely felt that it would ease my tired body, so agreed. Suggesting a shower would be best he showed me all the water controls and left me to go downstairs.
Having spent all my educated life in a boys school I didn't hesitate to strip out of my school suit and was soon luxuriating in the flow of warm water over my pre-teen body. I was rather proud of the fact that I now had a few small pubic hairs and that my circumcised cock would quickly become stiff when I was naked. The other boys in my form had looked in awe at my five inches of stiff cock, and Mr Wilson the house master had told me he had better have a chat with me.
Really I had always been a looker at other boys cocks, even when I first started school at seven. It was almost a natural thought for me, so I was keen always to note the cocks on statues and in paintings. I knew I was circumcised as grandmother had told me that this was a family tradition just a few months before her death.
I knew my cock felt good when I touched it and I knew instinctively that when I rubbed my fingers along it the feelings I experienced where tremendous. I really didn't understand anything about girls or sex, but did know that girls had little slits where we had cocks. I also knew that babies came out of these slits but how it all happened was not then in my educated memory.
As I finished my shower my cock was very stiff and Mr Ashcroft came in with a nice warm towel. He looked at me and smiled but I wasn't embarrassed. He was just like Mr Wilson at school, and I felt really comfortable with him.
I had forgotten to pack any pyjamas, and had slept last night in just my singlet as even though I was twelve I did not wear any form of underpants. None of the boys in my grade did. I had enjoyed sleeping in just a singlet, and my cock had been stiff virtually all night.
"Into bed with you, young man," I heard Mr Ashcroft tell me so I put my clean singlet on and jumped into the big double bed.
Mr Ashcroft then proceeded to undress, carefully hanging his coat and trousers on a clothes-horse. When he was down to his singlet and cotton boxer underpants, I noted that the front of these was very full. He turned to me and removed his singlet, and then slipped down his cotton draws. The sight of his big cock made me gasp, and he smiled. It was sticking straight out from his body with a large knob. I was a little surprised to note that he didn't have any hairs around his cock or on his balls, but I wasn't concerned about this as I wasn't really conversant with the mature male anatomy.
He turned and went into the bathroom and the shower.
When he emerged his big cock was much stiffer and without putting any clothes on jumped into bed with me. He moved over and placed his hand across my tiny chest and cuddled me to him. I felt warm and happy with him and quickly snuggled up to his fresh smelling hairless body.
His hand now ran down my back and over my little bums and pushed me towards him. My cock was stiff and touched him and a wonderful feeling flowed through me. Then I felt his cock touching me and pulsating against me. It was slippery as well and felt good. He started to move up and down over me and the slippery feeling from his cock increased. He grabbed my left hand and placed it on his throbbing cock and I felt on top of the world.
My face turned to him and his lips touched mine and we kissed. It was the first time I had felt any glow from a kiss, and soon his tongue was pushing past my moist lips and invading my mouth. I loved it, and so as his tongue retreated I pushed mine into his mouth and he sucked me.
My back was being caressed by his right hand and his fingers where running up and down my arse crack. I felt so good.
His cock was pumping out vast quantities of slippery liquid and it made my cock feel good. His hand now caressed my cock and with the slippery from his cock he rubbed mine generating the most electrifying feeling I had ever felt pass through my body. I humped and thrust and soon my body was violently bucking against him. There was this maddening jolt through me and my cock spasmed with such ferocity I almost passed out. My cock exploded and although I didn't know it at the time, I had had my first wet orgasm.
A minute later I felt Mr Ashcroft's body buck and I was covered in a series of warm spits over my cock and tummy. He hugged me and then kissed me and we fell into a serene sleep still joined together and covered in cum.
Sorry about the slow start, but it was necessary to set the scene for the rest of this tale.
If you enjoy it I would appreciate your comments and suggestions.
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