Date: Fri, 20 Oct 2000 17:21:22 +0100
From: Chas Bryant <charbry@supanet.com>
Subject: uncle-jules-5

UNCLE JULES - 5


I found, over the next couple of months, that the thought of Gervase was
becoming a monomania. He was driving me crazy. He wouldn't say yes
and he wouldn't say no. Sometimes, as if just larking about, he would
finger my hole through my trousers, but if I came on to him he told me to
cool it. I said to him, "Look, Gervase, if you want to fuck me I don't
mind trying it, but I've never taken it before."

He just laughed and said "I'd rather fuck your dog."

But if I got down and started sulking he tried to cheer me up. I wondered
if it was time to stop talking crap and just go for it, come on strong with
him and just take the consequences. But what if I did and he got mad and
wouldn't talk to me any more? I couldn't stand his coldness or his
distance. If a day went by when I didn't see him I just felt so down.

But then he didn't turn up at school one day and it appeared that he had
some serious viral infection that nobody could pin down. Now I really did
miss him and that empty place next to mine in the history lesson made me
feel like Gervase was dead or something. Luckily I had given him my
mobile number (which he had never used before) and he rang me at home
on the fourth day of his absence. It was the usual thing, larking around,
calling me names, but at least it was good to hear his voice.

He rang me again on the weekend to check up if the team were doing
well, but there was not a peep out of him during the second week so I
rang his house the following Saturday. He had told me not to ring him at
home, but I was desperate for the sound of his voice.

He said hullo like it was goodbye and a really sad occasion.

"You OK Gervase?"

"Sure Chas, I really enjoy being in bed all day. And missing out on
school and all the matches. It's like the happiest days of my life."

A silence. "I really miss you Gervase."

He sounded a little choked when he replied, "I miss you too Chas. I'm all
alone in the house and feeling like a heap of you-know-what."

And he did sound rather desperate - he must be to have admitted that he
missed me with no sarcasm attached to the statement. Suddenly bells
began ringing in my head. I knew where Gervase's house was but I had
never been asked inside. All part of his secretiveness I supposed. He lived
a short bike ride from my house, fifteen minutes tops.

I chanced my arm. "Well if you miss me like I miss you, why don't I
come over and see you. Bring some grapes or something. So long as your
parents don't mind."

Apparently his family had all gone out for the day and wouldn't be back
until later that evening. What absolute fucking bastards I thought, leaving
my beloved Gervase on his own when he was ill.

So we agreed I would cycle over right away and that he'd come down and
open the door when I rang. I set off on my trusty steed and pedalled so
fast I even overtook the slow local bus full of crinklies, some of whom
waved as I flew past like the wind.

I got there in good time, a little sweaty and a little horny at the thought of
seeing my beloved again. It seemed like we had been parted for at least a
year. I left my bike in his drive and rang the bell. Gervase came down
wearing no pyjamas and with a duvet wrapped around him. I had never
seen him looking so dishevelled with his black hair in his eyes and all
over the place and his skin looking yellowish and unhealthy. There were
rings under his eyes. But he still looked like an Indian god, a young
Krishna and the radiance that was his was only slightly dimmed. I
wondered if I dare kiss him as I entered the house, but thought it was
better not.

He tried a wan little smile as he closed the door. "I'll have to get back in
bed Chas, I was told to stay there and I feel cold."

I followed him up the stairs watching his naked feet on the carpet, the
thin bones behind his ankles, the slim calves. On the landing the duvet
slipped off of his shoulder and I wrapped it tight about his neck and felt
how cold he was. I held my hand to his face. "You're freezing."

He looked at me and smiled (his black eyes were as bright and beautiful
as ever) and said, "Your hands feel warm." He even snuggled against my
palm for a while.

He went into his bedroom and I followed him in, shutting the door behind
me. I saw there was a photo of the team on the wall, me and him standing
with our arms around each others shoulders. The same picture I had on
my bedroom wall at home.

"You'd better get back into bed," I said, feeling very loving and
protective, like I was his Mum. He dropped the duvet onto the bed and
got in under it. He was naked except for some skimpy pants and every
bone in his body was clearly articulated through his soft golden skin.
Although cold, he was sweating. I tucked him in and got a towel and
wiped his face. He smiled up at me, one of those dazzling smiles without
a trace of malice that he rarely showed. Heart-melting.

He had some medication which I gave him to help bring down his
temperature. I said, "I hope this is not catching!"

"No, the doctor said it wasn't, otherwise I wouldn't have asked you round
here." And he reached out a hand and stroked the back of my forearm.
"So, what's happening at school this week Chas?"

"Fuck all, as far as I am concerned. I just feel numb because you have
been away so long."

"But it's only been two weeks. I think you must be in love Chas." He was
smiling in a dreamy sort of fashion.

I knelt down by the bed and looked into his lovely face. A slow-ticking
clock on his wall gave me a sense of eternity, it was the sound of eternity.
Weird thought! He looked back at me and then began to stroke my cheek
with the back of his hand. I took his hand and pressed my lips to the cool
damp palm.

"Yes," he said, not taking his eyes off my face. "I think it must be love at
last." He put his hands behind his head and gave a long sigh.

I just couldn't help myself any more and I took him in my arms, feeling
the delicate bones of his shoulders in my hands. Our closed lips touched.
It was like some dopey soap on TV, 'Neighbours' or some such shit
where everyone is so good-looking and perfect you could scream.

I said, "Tell me if you want me to stop." I felt so much older than him
and therefore more responsible.

"Don't stop yet, pervo, I'm just getting the hang of it."

He was perfect, the Krishna of the duvet, of the room, of the world. This
was the true goal of meditation, love. I kissed him again and asked if I
could get in with him. He didn't answer, but then again he didn't say no.
He watched my every move as I got undressed and started giggling when
he saw my hard cock bobbing out of my shorts. Then he stopped giggling
and just stared at my body. I slipped into his single bed and he turned to
face me. Christ! This sounds like some awful Mills and Boon novel like
my mother reads, but I can't help it. Only poetry can truly express it. Say,
as Eliot did.

Eyes that last I saw in tears
here in death's dream kingdom
the golden vision reappears
I see the eyes but not the tears.

Something along those lines. And I felt as if Gervase and me were a
poem, a beautiful poem that God was speaking for our ears alone, and yet
the whole world was listening, waiting, breathless.

I can honestly say that sex didn't come into it. Yes, our cocks were hard
and it felt nice as they rubbed against each other, but for me this was
quite a different experience from that with Uncle Jules or Nicky or the
other guys on the Common, or anything else at all. It was like I suddenly
understood. That's what guys tell you about their experiences with drugs,
but this was a drug-free zone, and it was real or super-real, or something.
It's crap really trying to explain it by the use of words, but what else is
there? If I could show you the experience I would do so, and you would
hardly believe it yourself.

Gervase knew. Gervase understood. Gervase shared. He was the
experience. We lay there for more than an hour in each others arms, face
to face, cock to cock, mouth to mouth, hardly speaking at all. And how it
changed him and made him more gorgeous! Never had eyes, mouth, lips,
succulent cheeks, dark hair and smooth forehead looked more lovely.
Never had anything in this world looked more lovely. Sex wasn't the
point of this experience, but sex was of course part of it. As our kisses
became longer and more passionate so our bodies pushed closer into each
other, our hands like the four hands of one being exploring its own most
intimate parts.

His cock and mine were both around the same size, if anything his was
slightly bigger than mine, both uncut. And our cocks too spoke the same
language and nudged and nestled against each other, and this in spite of
the fact that he hadn't yet discarded his shorts . Our cocks and balls were
restless, demanding greater and closer union. We held each other tighter
and tighter, wrapping ourselves around each other, each wet mouth
exploring the others moist warm tongue and teeth. The vision became
more intense, the love bolder.

We both endlessly repeated the lovers' prayer, the lovers' mantra, the
three words of blessing and eternal union, for the lovers' union is eternity
in time, the most piercing seeing of all, unforgettable.

He would be on top of me, then I on top of him, our cocks endlessly
rubbing together. When he lay on top of me my hands would explore his
back, his small arse, his thighs, smoothing and rubbing endlessly as if I
were a metalworker attempting to make the material shine. His bones
were exquisite, the beautiful framework beneath his silken skin, his inner
foundation. The visible ribs were there to be touched and kissed and
licked, running my wet tongue all along and over them. His small nipples
were my especial joy, running my tongue around their hardness and
making him shiver with excitement.

Now we were both warmer I pulled the duvet back from him and he lay
there under my hands and gaze, hands behind his head so that his whole
body was a love-offering, his black hair framing his lovely face, staring at
me as if to discover my original self. The beautiful Krishna, the living
god, the divine vision; ultimate reality. This was the All, nothing could be
added and nothing taken away; and it was for all time. He was damp now
and his hair was wet.

"Are you all right darling? I don't want you to get cold."

He smiled as I leant forward and kissed him. "I'm OK, sicko. Just perv
me a little bit more."

"May I?" I modestly and politely asked, indicating his brief briefs which
had stayed on all this time. They too were damp and his hard cock filled
the material which was so silky it felt like flesh.

"Like I said, perv me some more."

I bent over him and licked his hardon through the tight silk. His thighs
were slightly trembling. His legs were crossed at his ankles, his thighs
together, the cock and balls displayed against the delicious curves of belly
and thigh. I put my tongue in his navel, I worshipped his flesh with every
sensory organ. Then I straddled him on my knees, lifted his back with one
hand and with the other drew down his pants. He lay there watching
everything I did. It was like a religious ceremony. He lifted his legs
behind me and I took his pants off and then put them to my face,
breathing in his very own incense, more sensuous than the costliest
unguents of the east, finer than sandalwood, more delicious than myrrh.

He smiled and watched and said, "Oh sicko pervy baby, you're the best."

I only hoped he had no other to compare me with!

I dropped his pants beside the bed and, still straddling his slim body,
looked down at all his perfection. Both our cocks were at 12 o clock, stiff
as sticks and self-vibrating. I lowered myself slowly down upon him until
cock was against cock, tight balls against tight balls. Only now did he
close his eyes, the better to savour these sweet sensations. To me this was
spiritual as well as physical ecstacy, the veil drawn back, observing the
living God in all his glory. And if anyone thinks that's blasphemous,
tough shit!

Parted lips and open mouth, half open mouth in ecstacy. Eyelids
sensuously closed with long black lashes against the ivory cheeks.
Kissing his closed eyelids, his forehead, his nose, his smooth chin, the
soft warm moist curve of his neck. Nibbling at his tender ear as sheathed
cock slides against sheathed cock, on top and under and side by side.
Feeling it start to cum, the chakras churning. Feeling the life-giving
energy ascending from the toes to the feet to the ankles to the calves; up
through the calves, his and mine, on up through the throbbing eager
thighs and flooding the crotch with sweetness, so much sweetness.

Needing now to release that aching sweetness, his need as well as mine,
inseperably now joined as the one original being fecundating itself, image
of the ancient Egyptian god who made the world. Pushing pushing
pushing, near to gushing. His hands and fingers grasped tightly against
my buns, pulling my genitalia closer to his as though to completely merge
us like Siamese twins joined at that especial place. Hurting now, hurting
with love; groaning, of course, as though in pain. Soothing each others
pain, bringing tender relief to that hurting wound.

We could hold it no longer. He came first, gripping on to me like a
drowning man, wetting my cock and his; and his spasms released me too
and we were wet with each other, panting open mouth to open mouth.
Pushing pushing still to eject every last seed of life from our bodies that
they might mingle in his belly's pool. His seed and mine now swimming
side by side and attempting to penetrate each other, all those teeming
soon to be dying millions. We had created and we had given birth, male
and female in one.

He was laughing and sweating as I lay beside him now, our wet bellies
together. Still with closed eyes he felt my face as would a blind man and
whispered "Oh pervy sicko baby, that was great."

"Yeah," I agreed. "That just about sums it up."

We slept for a while and then he said I would have to go before his family
returned. It was just beginning to get dark as I left him, his eyes glowing
in the twilight of his room, that cave of love.

I jumped on my bike and nosed my way into the rush-hour traffic.
Everything about me bore the living marks of eternity, the smoke, the
fumes, the noise, the air, the sky dripping red blood everywhere, the
crows flapping homeward serenely above the bustle, cawing - as crows
do! All this, and me, and him; all this was one thing, just the one beating
heart and the throb of that heartbeat was everywhere.

I felt as if that ecstacy would never end. And in a way - its own
unobvious, semi-hidden way - it never has. And now I know, or seem to
know (nothing is entirely certain!) that it never will.


Any comments welcome at charbry@supanet.com